죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어 죽어
People like that— they’re so stereotypical, they expect you to just grin and bear it.
But I’ve just about hit my limit with this guy.
(𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴)
I’ll let him drink as much as he wants, one day . . . then, he’ll get what he deserves— I’ll make sure of it.
Jong-u bites his inner cheek, before reining in his criticisms and moving back to the stove— one last complaint slipping out in a quiet grumble, “And trying to scare someone out of it isn’t very mature, either. . .”
The sound of long-legged steps actually caused a wave of paranoia to creep up Jong-u’s neck— turning to the one nocturnal resident with a jolt —and visibly struggling to decide whether to look them in the eye or not.
But the man in room 303 still can’t quite manage it.
Taking another deep sigh, laying his bag onto the table, soon after he sat down he placed one leg over the other, his hair still soaked.
He didnt say anything but Ji-hae's face showed it all, he was glaring at Jong-woo.
The kind who belonged here.
“Ahjussi.” He starts by approaching a few steps, sighing through gritted teeth as he meets the stranger’s gaze.
“You can’t treat a shared space like this.”