PISTOLS AND SKIRTS → yoonmin

The rain falls in crazy chaotic drops, the gusting wind carrying them in wild vortices one moment and in diagonal sheets the next. It runs down Jimin's face, washing off the sweat and dirt that clung onto his skin.

The pink haired male could feel his heartbeat pounding over the unforgiving rain, the only sign that told him that he was still alive. That he was still human.

#23 - infection