How To Get Away With Murder | Changsung ● Binsung

Talk Show Host

"I'll be waiting, with a gun and a pack of sandwiches and nothing"

News, Changbin hated the fucking news. Whether it was on TV, transcribed in a newspaper, or merely passed along word by mouth, he despised it. A depressing story of a mother gone mad, taking her own children's lives or of an astray car going a few kilometres too fast down the wrong lane, a collision only inevitable, would only exacerbate Changbin's already melancholic view of life. So he often opted to be unknowing of the world's current events, not a particularly wise decision, but a decision nonetheless. This past week though, the news had become Changbin's life. He lived and breathed it. It was the first thing on his mind when he woke up and the last thing on his mind when he went to sleep. Quick glances at his phone, hour long TV news programs and uncomfortable fifteen minute train rides, spent squashed between two overweight men, trying to watch the small screen of his laptop, had become Changbin's life. He was up to date on everything and anything that had happened in the past week, the amount of car crashes, the amount of robberies, the amount of drug-fueled rages and most importantly the amount of murders.

You see, Changbin had become sure, undoubtedly sure, that he would hear his or the blue-haired boy's name leave one of the many news presenters' and talk show hosts' lips he would spend hours listening to. That the mention of a pink suitcase being found in a lake, a horrendous secret waiting within, would only arise in a matter of time. Every day he woke up with a feeling of dread eating away at him, waiting for the inevitable discovery of the body and hence the inevitable end of his life, but, despite Changbin's unequivocal point of view, that day hadn't come, and so he was only left with the face of a dead man lurking in his dreams at night and his own self-ridden guilt. A guilt he wanted to share with someone else, a friend, but he couldn't. He hadn't seen Jisung over the past week, they hadn't run into each other in the hall and Jisung hadn't knocked on his door and Changbin didn't dare knock on Jisung's. He hadn't seen him since they returned that fateful night, his last glimpse of him, a mischievous wink and an elusive smile before a flash of blue hair disappeared into the dark abyss of an apartment. Changbin should of gotten his phone number, but lamentably, Changbin was the archetype of an invertebrate. He was starting to think he dreamt it all up, some sick, twisted nightmare, better described as a dream, the blue-haired boy nothing but a figment of his imagination. He wished he could share it with Chan but going up to his best friend and saying 'hey, so I think I may or may not have helped my neighbour hide the body of a man he killed last Friday. I need some help figuring out if it actually happened or if I'm just going batshit crazy, can you please help me?" didn't seem like the best idea. So alas, Changbin was stuck dealing with it alone.

Chan wasn't stupid though, he could tell that something was bothering Changbin. His constant fiddling and jitteriness paired with the look of unwavering worry in his eyes were blatant signs that something was wrong. So today, as they both sat in the university's library studying, Chan decided that it was about time he questioned Changbin on his recent abnormal manner.

"Are you okay, you've been acting strange lately?"

Changbin's head shot up from his textbook, a confused expression present on his face. "I have?"

Chan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, don't play stupid with me, I know you. I know when something's bothering you, it's written on your face."

Changbin let out a small laugh. "No seriously, I'm alright, just tired."

"If you don't want to tell me that's alright, I just want to know your okay. I know how you can get."