izvini
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“Why are you telling me this?”
"Because you think you can just play with him like that, that you can use him, but Hannie, understand that he's not Bin or Chan. Minho's patience is not rubbery. And someday he will break down and then no one will be able to save you, not me, not Hyunjin, not Chris, not even Changbin will help you."
“What if…” Jisung pauses, twirling his cigarette between his fingers. The ash falls onto his lap, and he does not know what to say next. The blood thickens in his veins, and his thoughts gather like ash in his lungs. "What If I kill him first?"
"You ought to have done that when I handed you the weapon," Seungmin remarks, rising from his seat. He circles the table, halting beside it, crouches down to gaze into Han's eyes, and therein Han sees himself — and the slender chain about his neck tightens, for all this time, it has not been he who drew it taut, but others.