People who know Oh Sehun know him as a photographer. 135 film as paycheck. 135 film as the blank pages of his autobiography. 135 film as some kind of romantic notion of human fragility condensed into the extra-extra-small screen.
People who know Sehun better—people who really know Sehun, the corpses bloating along Tokyo Bay and the wide eyes with brains rolling down the walls behind and the men trying to claw their way out of a coffin nailed in with titanium rods—know that Sehun isn’t a photographer. Oh Sehun is a killer, fresh meat in the business but deadliest heavyweight south side of Seoul, or when Kai wrecks his leg skiing, north side of Seoul too. There are no complications to him. He strangles, stabs, shoots.
“I decided that I would never quit to fight in everything I do. If I do one thing, I do it wholeheartedly, even if people keep telling me it’s impossible, I would never want to believe them and I would have faith in myself instead.”
countdown to zitao’s birthday: day N°52
I’m late on this, but thank you ;u;