𝑵𝑬𝑴𝑬𝑺𝑰𝑺𝑴 (𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯)

L

the strangely normal boy compensated with looks.

looks that he preferred to hide. the stares he earned from strangers and fellow classmates were out of envy or desire, but he didn't understand that. every glare and stare appeared to distress him, further pushing him into the hole of naivety.

in some cases being naive is innocent and adorable, other times it's dangerous and quite harmful to said person. the line between doe eyed innocence and unhealthily warped look on yourself was prominent.

his classmates stare with curiosity, and he takes it the wrong way. the same routine every morning. goo kisses him awake, he lazily gets ready, and gun drives him to school(gun refuses to let him drive himself), walk to class, and overthink throughout the entire class. it was a terrible way to live, but it was slowly getting better. having goo and gun helped, despite them being busy quite a lot.

the two had suggested a job, to which the boy agreed. it was a job much like theirs, debt collection for the chairman. mostly solo, since they didn't want to be brutal in front of their poor boyfriend if they didn't have to.

maybe this was a bad idea, but their little boyfriend was always stressed, and always wanting to fight. mix the two together and you get stress relief at its finest. at least that's what goo said, and he's neverrrrr wrong.
•
the chairman had called <name> in for a job. it had something to do with a powerful media company named mcn. [i can't remember what it's called. my bad.]

he was given a black pin for his suit collar, and sent off in and expensive car.

the building was huge in height. it was a little intimidating, but <name> could handle it.

the president of this company had gotten loaned money from hnh group, and his time was due. the president had put it off so long that he was in more debt than before.

it was a pathetic sight to see. the bald headed president of this company was knelt on the ground, cuts and gashes spread across the top of his head. that wasn't nearly as bad as his face, which had been beaten to an recognizable mass of barely moving muscle. a bat, dripping a dark crimson liquid, was being held loosely by a bandaged hand.

the president would continue to substitute as baseball practice until the boy got what he wanted, and what he unfortunately didn't have. this hell was going to last forever, and the boy swung the bat back like he was going to swing right back full force, but dropped his grip to let it sit on his shoulder. he checked the phone in his back pocket, and proceeded to turn around and walk back out the door he came from. like any of this had never happened.