albinism | bl | lookism

Act 0

Albinism: the congenital absence of pigmentation in the eyes and skin and hair.

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|Ep.2 ( original )|
|Ep. 0|

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"Hey, look at that foreigner."

"Gosh, he's hot!"

"He's so cute!"

"I wanna get his number!"

"Is his hair dyed?"

"It looks natural though!"

"Is he wearing contacts?"

"It's a shame he's short, though."

He ignored the whispers around him, especially the height comment. There was no reason for him to listen in. He had just finished texting his mom about arriving in Korea... but he couldn't help and sigh. Even though the bus stop was quite a distance away from the airport, he didn't mind walking.

He used this chance to take in the scenery and he had to admit; the place buzzed with life. The only thing he had on him was an average-sized backpack that he had gotten on his birthday two years ago. Inside of it was seven pairs of no-name clothes, his necessaries for hygiene, sandals, a laptop and five pairs of socks.

Honestly, he didn't have much. He didn't have enough money to buy extras at the moment, anyway.

"Fight! Fight!"

"What's going on?"

"OMG!"

"Someone! Call the police!"

Intrigued by the distressed tone, he sprinted to where the crowd gathered. By the time he got there, he found a tall guy wearing a white cap and shirt and black pants. He was beating the crap out of a poor chubby guy. Why was he beating that guy up anyway? It didn't seem like he'd done anything bad.

Sure, his haircut and face looked unnerving since he looked like a certain someone from North Korea; but the fact that he was getting beat up when he didn't look like someone that can fight at all infuriated him. But, the foreigner warily thought, sweat sliding down from his forehead. That guy's huge. And his punches look like it could throw me into a coma!

He slapped himself, hard, and slid out one wooden tonfa from each sleeve; gripping the wooden handle tightly. His backpack made a noise when he prepared himself and before the huge guy could land another punch, he blocked it with his tonfa. His free arm went under and jabbed him on the side. The huge guy fell to his knees, coughing.

... shit, I'm dead meat. He inwardly bawled in despair. I'm gonna die. Stupid self! Why did I have to intervene?! I just landed not too long ago and I found myself in a fight! He gulped and wondered if he should bolt out of there.

He turned and faced the chubby guy. "Hey," he said, sliding his tonfa back in his sleeves.

He grabbed the chubby guy's wrist and yelled, "Run!" And bolted out of there.

Zack Lee, the person beating the crap out of Daniel Park, the chubby guy, glared at the crowd around him. "The fuck are you guys looking at?! Scram!!!" Almost instantly, the crowd dispersed and returned to their daily lives. Zack grabbed his side and winced when he did. Fuck! That kid's hit bruised my side. "Zack! What did I tell you? I told you I didn't want you fighting, remember?"