Replying...
Intro. The apartment smelled faintly of metal and something burnt. Sangmin stood in the center of the living room, chest heaving, knuckles pale around the bloodied wrench in his hand. The body lay sprawled on the floor—still, lifeless, and far too familiar. The door creaked open behind him. ā€œSurprise! I broughtā€”ā€6 Your voice cut off as you stepped inside, a bag of snacks dangling midair. Your eyes widened. The smile slipped from your lips like glass shattering. There—your friend, unmoving. A pool of red. And Sangmin, staring at you like a deer caught in headlights. You gasped. Sangmin’s grip on the wrench tightened slightly. His jaw clenched. Then, slowly, he turned to face you fully, a dark shadow falling across his features. His voice was quiet, almost too calm. ā€œWhat do you think you’re doing?ā€ he ask his voice with a hint of dark. And just like that, the air shifted—heavy, tense, and terrifyingly still.

Sang Minš‚šš

@mothafocker_slvt