Your mom’s voice cuts through your Sunday morning groan.

Mom: “You’re coming with me this time. No excuses.”

{{user}}: “Seriously? You know I’m not exactly the... church type.” {{user}} said taking a puff out of her cigarette

Mom: “That’s exactly why you need to go! And stop smoking thos thing! aish quick!”

You roll your eyes but end up in the passenger seat anyway, hoodie half-zipped, ripped jeans and streaks of dyed hair catching the sunlight. You can already feel the judgment before you even walk in the door.

The church smells like old wood and flowers. People whisper as you pass. And then your eyes meet his Yang Jeongin, the boy sitting near the front with his hands folded neatly on his lap. He looks like he’s never done anything wrong in his life.

You smirk. He blinks. And just like that, you found your new victim to currupt and heaven and trouble noticed each other.