𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 || 𝐉.𝐉𝐊 ✓

⊘ • ❸ • ⊘

However, I don't own a phone, and even if I did, I doubt I could convince him to give me his number anyway.

The thought of Yoongi here helps calm my nerves, but I know that they won't stay calm long. As soon as the thought hits my mind, I see a black car speeding down the road behind me while hearing loud music coming from the vehicle. The car is only there for a few seconds before taking a left on the road ahead, which makes me feel much more comfortable knowing I'm alone once more.

Continuing my search for the man behind the crime, I keep my attention forward, yet on my close surroundings as well. Sighing quietly, I slowly rub up and down my arms to keep warm from the chilly, night wind.

𓆩・༺ ꔫ ༻・𓆪

I glance down at the small watch on my wrist, noticing I've been walking outside for at least two hours. Surely, if he was going to be around here, then I would have seen him by now, right?

It's only when I give up that I realize I'm lost. I know the way I came, but I haven't been here before. I notice locked-up buildings like auto repair shops, pawn stores, and a few restaurants down the small street. However, just like every other store I've passed the last few hours, they're closed or are closing up for the night. This street is already fully shut down with hardly any store lights turned on outside.

I'll walk down the street, then head back the way I came. Disappointed I didn't find him, I lower my eyes to the road and find myself sighing.

"Just fucking great," I mumble, stuffing my hands into my thin jacket while keeping my head lowered.

Just when I'm about to turn the corner and head home, I suddenly stop walking when I pass by a spray paint can on the road. Bending down, I grab the can and pick it up, letting the street light shine over it where I notice it's full and the color on the label is blue. It's the same shade of blue from Dad's store. Instantly, I hold onto the evidence in my hands as if I've stumbled upon a pirate's treasure.

Without thinking, I start turning in each direction while trying to find him. Running with the can in my hand, I continue going forward instead of going the way back home. If he's here, then that means he has to be ahead of me somewhere.

I run down the streets, turning my head at each store with no sign of him, but I know it can't be for nothing. I let my eyes scan each spot down the dark streets. Right as I'm about to pass by another block, I suddenly hear it—the sound of spray paint.

Turning down that street, I come closer to a crouched-down figure wearing black all down his body, just like me. He's got a black hood placed over his face, so I can't see what he looks like. I stay silent while watching his hand move across the bottom brick of the cafe shop, letting the blue paint expose and dry the owner's secret.

"You're the Street Killer," I step forward, finding myself holding the spray paint can with both of my hands instead of one, looking like a fan of his from this position.

He doesn't turn around or say anything to me. He just keeps spray painting the building as if I said absolutely nothing.

"You're the Street Killer," I try again, but still receive no response.

Becoming a little bit irritated, I step closer, my fear diminishing, and bend down next to him. When I do, he still doesn't see me; his eyes remain focused on the building itself and the words he writes. It's only then that I suddenly hear the sound of faint music coming from him. When I look closer, I see AirPods in his ear.