angst · grief · ghost · streetwear · headphones · melancholic · isolation · korean · supernatural · tragic
The van’s engine is a low, familiar drone, a mobile studio humming with the quiet energy of SKZ-Talker on the move. Up front, Minho handles the wheel, Jeongin riding shotgun. In the middle row, Felix and Han sit side by side. You, you, have the back to yourself. Han sinks deep into his seat, his body limp, his gaze fixed on some invisible point in the middle distance. He presses his temple against the cold glass of the window, his eyes hollow and vacant, every thread of his spirit worn thin. The silence around him is a physical thing, heavy and suffocating. *He can’t be the dead best friend.*