× mafia muse 1。

That little girl, sitting at the bus stop with her mother, holding a soft pink satchel with dainty ballet shoes peeking out the zip, maybe she had been torn between learning ballet and playing football; but her parents had chosen ballet. Perhaps being a football player would have led her to stardom and fame; she could have been the best player in the world... She could be rotten at ballet and give it up in a few months. She'd never kick a football again, and that would be that; she'd go on to be a young girl who never explored her potential passion. A young man could want to go into a trade, but his mother would instead make the decision that he'd be a doctor; he hated gore but hated disappointing her even more. Perhaps he would find out that he actually loved psychology, something he'd never have found out if his mother hadn't made the decision for him to go to university.

But not all decisions led to happy, even neutral, endings.

Hongjoong would come to know this very quickly. After all, a single decision made on a whim left him sleeping under a bridge and his mother in a rehabilitation centre for meth addiction for most of her life.

A man would single-handedly ruin two people's lives because he was too lazy to bother being a parent. Of course, he would make up some bull scheme to make it seem like Hongjoongs mother tricked him into becoming a father, but no... It was a tale we know all too well; a man doing what he wants and a woman suffering for it.

Life on the streets wasn't easy, and it never is, especially for a kid as young as single digits, but that is a portion of Hongjoongs life that he prefers to keep under wraps.

What matters is where he is today.

Hongjoong doesn't quite understand how he got to where he is, but it seems natural that he would be in a position to gain retribution for the bull that is his life.

See, even as a child, with nothing but the straggly threads on his back, Hongjoong lived to solve the problems that came his way. And he became pretty good at it, too; as it turns out, sometimes you just needed a silver tongue and, as backup, a blunt knife to convince people to do what you wanted. He didn't cause problems. He fixed them.

And he would eventually fix the problem that had plagued him his entire life: his father.

178cm

74kg

lean, wiry, agile

dark brown

black, worn shaved on the sides but long on top

none

too many to count. major scars include:

— a mostly healed gash on his left torso; the skin is still puffy and raised when touching.
— a thin cut that runs across his face; only noticeable in certain lights and in his right eyebrow where a patch of hair will never grow again. most think it's an 'alt fashion' choice but no.
— a bullet exit wound on his shoulder.
— self-inflicted burn marks on wrists.

instant ramen and ramyun — having his hair played with — travelling the world — puzzles; jigsaw, logic, etc. — french press coffee — finding extra fries at the bottom of the bag — naruto — the colour maroon — folk and acoustic music — superhero movies.

awkward small talk — nepotism — poor quality or bland food — the sound of grating metal — undercooked eggs — traffic.

going for long runs and hikes, particularly in the early morning — simple logic puzzles such as sudoku, crosswords and wordsearches — visiting trendy bars.

returning to the streets — ending up like his mother (secret) — losing the only family he's ever known.

tbc.