Jongdae stubs the knife onto his arms, like playing the violin. Only there’s no strings or wood. It’s just the knife, on his arm. The knife touches his arm, and he could feel the cold metal on his skin. His eyes are trained on it and he doesn’t even blink when it finally pierces his skin, much less flinch when blood drips from his arm.

He blinks his eyes a few times before everything settles down. He can’t hear the blood in his ears or the sound of his heartbeat anymore, and his eyes train on the mirror in front of him. His lips are the palest he’s ever seen, with ghost eyes sunk into his skull.

He looks like a zombie, Jongdae concludes. He walks out of the bathroom, blood clotted with a tissue and pulls on a long sleeved shirt. Even if he dressed like an emo and looks like a ghost, it was undeniable he was handsome. But what kept everyone away were wounds.

Although he would hide it, just a slight tug of the shirt would reveal various self-inflicted wounds all over his body, and on his back a scar the embedded itself on his skin. The crowd avoidshim as he walks through campus.