Surface
The clock is sluggishly pushing it's way towards midnight. Taemin's fingers press onto his eyelids, a poor attempt at forcing moisture into his eyes. It's never worked for him before, but it's a habit he continues night after sleepless night. Insomnia blots at Taemin's eyes and he spends more time trying to find relief for them than getting anything productive done.
The two page essay open on the computer before him is supposed to be six pages. He creaks his eyes open tiredly to view the blurring words. When they don't make any sense to him, he groans and finally closes the document out.
He lies his forehead against his desk, barely gazing up at the screen of his laptop to see what he's doing. He knows the way to the news site so well that it hardly takes effort. His heart leaps when he sees the latest article - an update on the story he's been following so closely - and he plays the video.
Now, he can rest his eyes. He listens to the anchor woman's familiar solemn tone as she informs the world that Seoul's latest serial killer has struck again.
He is far from the only person obsessed with this news that's quickly sweeping through Korea as a nation. Every other morning, there's a new body and zero evidence. At his college, a club with the purpose of studying the story has even been formed. He'd be quite keen on joining in if he had the time.
Horrible as it is, the story is exciting, whether you're open enough to admit that or not. If Taemin had more friends to talk to, he would tell them proudly how his pulse quickens and skin tingles when he only thinks of the case. The unthinkable is reality, anything is possible. It's that type of feeling.
The latest victim is as random as any other. Taemin listens to a description of a woman in her forties that was found in an upper-class suburb. He listens again, and again. The clock strikes 1, 2, 3...
Taemin doesn't pay much attention in classes. He rests his eyes, thinking there isn't much better to do. As long as he keeps the pace he's at, he'll finish that paper in time for it's deadline next week, just as he's met all of his deadlines this week.
He must have got some sleep last night after all. He woke up in his bed, and even if he is resting his eyes a bit, he feels alert. It helps at lunch time when he chugs a can of coffee. It helps so much that when he's done with classes, the first thing he does outside of school is find another vending machine so that he can buy more coffee.
After he's pulled his can out, he notices that someone is behind him when he almost backs into them. When he turns to apologize, he's frozen with fear. It's just an average young man standing there, but there's something striking and foreboding about him.
Taemin's pulse quickens and his skin tingles.
The man moves by him as if he isn't there, putting money in the machine and pressing the button for the same coffee that Taemin has. It flashes the words 'sold out' at him, and his already frowning face turns frownier.
"Take.. take mine." Taemin says, thrusting his can forward.
The man looks down at it, confusion covering previously stoic features. "I couldn't," he says politely.
"It's fine," Taemin insists.
After a long moment of hesitation, the man asks, "... Shall we share?" An awkward smile breaks across his face, seeming out of place. A smile doesn't belong on that face. Taemin just knows it. Why? His smell.. maybe his smell.. isn't his smell like death?
"... Okay."
The man makes a sound like the beginning of a laugh as he takes the can from Taemin. Pulling the tab open, he introduces himself. "I'm Lee Jinki."
There's something about him. He smells like death. There's something about him.
Taemin's dry eyes are itching as he stares at the fourth page of his essay. He leans back in his chair and shuts his eyes, pressing his fingers against his eyelids. After a moment, he gives up on his essay and returns to his news site.
They identified the victim from this morning as some guy named Lee Jinki, but for the first time they didn't release a physical description.
Random again, a stranger again. Taemin wonders what he looked like...
His pulse quickens, his skin tingles.
The two page essay open on the computer before him is supposed to be six pages. He creaks his eyes open tiredly to view the blurring words. When they don't make any sense to him, he groans and finally closes the document out.
He lies his forehead against his desk, barely gazing up at the screen of his laptop to see what he's doing. He knows the way to the news site so well that it hardly takes effort. His heart leaps when he sees the latest article - an update on the story he's been following so closely - and he plays the video.
Now, he can rest his eyes. He listens to the anchor woman's familiar solemn tone as she informs the world that Seoul's latest serial killer has struck again.
He is far from the only person obsessed with this news that's quickly sweeping through Korea as a nation. Every other morning, there's a new body and zero evidence. At his college, a club with the purpose of studying the story has even been formed. He'd be quite keen on joining in if he had the time.
Horrible as it is, the story is exciting, whether you're open enough to admit that or not. If Taemin had more friends to talk to, he would tell them proudly how his pulse quickens and skin tingles when he only thinks of the case. The unthinkable is reality, anything is possible. It's that type of feeling.
The latest victim is as random as any other. Taemin listens to a description of a woman in her forties that was found in an upper-class suburb. He listens again, and again. The clock strikes 1, 2, 3...
Taemin doesn't pay much attention in classes. He rests his eyes, thinking there isn't much better to do. As long as he keeps the pace he's at, he'll finish that paper in time for it's deadline next week, just as he's met all of his deadlines this week.
He must have got some sleep last night after all. He woke up in his bed, and even if he is resting his eyes a bit, he feels alert. It helps at lunch time when he chugs a can of coffee. It helps so much that when he's done with classes, the first thing he does outside of school is find another vending machine so that he can buy more coffee.
After he's pulled his can out, he notices that someone is behind him when he almost backs into them. When he turns to apologize, he's frozen with fear. It's just an average young man standing there, but there's something striking and foreboding about him.
Taemin's pulse quickens and his skin tingles.
The man moves by him as if he isn't there, putting money in the machine and pressing the button for the same coffee that Taemin has. It flashes the words 'sold out' at him, and his already frowning face turns frownier.
"Take.. take mine." Taemin says, thrusting his can forward.
The man looks down at it, confusion covering previously stoic features. "I couldn't," he says politely.
"It's fine," Taemin insists.
After a long moment of hesitation, the man asks, "... Shall we share?" An awkward smile breaks across his face, seeming out of place. A smile doesn't belong on that face. Taemin just knows it. Why? His smell.. maybe his smell.. isn't his smell like death?
"... Okay."
The man makes a sound like the beginning of a laugh as he takes the can from Taemin. Pulling the tab open, he introduces himself. "I'm Lee Jinki."
There's something about him. He smells like death. There's something about him.
Taemin's dry eyes are itching as he stares at the fourth page of his essay. He leans back in his chair and shuts his eyes, pressing his fingers against his eyelids. After a moment, he gives up on his essay and returns to his news site.
They identified the victim from this morning as some guy named Lee Jinki, but for the first time they didn't release a physical description.
Random again, a stranger again. Taemin wonders what he looked like...
His pulse quickens, his skin tingles.