“State your name.”

The roll of film in the camcorder sounded throughout the room with a harsh grind. The space itself smelt of steam and warm chai leaves - green tea, and the aroma of sweet wilting chrysanthemums.

“Kim Jongin...”

Lying on the table between the two bodies were simple nothings, a teacup and saucer, a pencil and pad, soft cakes in bite size pieces, and eraser shavings with no purpose-

Sitting at one end was a faintly beating heart, wisps of a sound that held no importance in ones eyes but a heavy end on the other... His eyes were deep and dimly lit, his lashes long and covering the warm brown of his irises. His cheek bones were soft, his face looking hollow but still with a bit of life that kept instilled in the cells of the being - all formed around plump and gentle lips that were to chap in due time...

“What's your age?” Asked the lighter of the two feathers though sat at the other end, tripod set up next to his seating place. The lightness was an interviewer, his eyes wide with curious obliviousness, though soft with respects to the heaviest seated across from him. Like Jongin, his lips were plump, holding a sharper curve than him but still soft, soft that wouldn't have to see the light of peeling skin. His hair was pushed back neatly, having thought about how he would present himself to day as a normal day on the job... Meanwhile the other looked fine in anything.. though there was an obvious misplacement about him as he sat calmly and vulnerably in his seat.

A deep inhale drew in the chrysanthemum and green chai mixture, letting it brim in his lungs before they were expelled from the original they came from. - There was a long pause, a hesitation, a reluctance to answer the simple... such simple question.

“Twenty-two.”Jongin finally replied, weakness to his voice.

The interviewer noted the second's hesitation Jongin took to answer the simple question of minor identity.

“Are you hav-” He was about to question any thoughts of stepping away from the permanent decision Kim Jongin was about to make... For this was a choice that can never be taken away.
Not unless failed.

“No.” Jongin responded, cutting off the interviewer in a soft, though surprisingly authoritative way. Catching his tone however, he felt almost guilty for the way he spoke, the rude way he barged into the question he knew was about to be asked. “I want to do this....” He murmured with a softer tone - keeping himself in check. “I want this over” He nodded, eyes downcasting to look at his white covered lap, his hand reaching out to the green tea that was just poured. Lifting it to his lips, he watched a drop of tainted liquid fall to his lap, making that white impure - staining its fibers forever.

“Okay...” Was responded from the interviewer in an almost sympathetic way... how could he not be?

“Let’s begin...” The interviewer spoke again, one hand reaching to the camcorder and turning the screen onto the troubled man on the other end. Jongin rose his head just as he heard the click of settlement of the tripod onto him. Looking straight into the lense he just nodded, bottom plush lip quivering for a split second...

“What’s your story?” The interviewer interrupted the five second readjustment period, his hands moving to rest in his lap as his eyes met Jongin’s in a flick then finally nodded, giving him the go - Though Jongin remained quiet for quite some time...

The drip from the pain numbing iv filled the momentary silence.