my name is min yoongi , and i smoke to die .

yoongi's mornings typically started out with a cigarette and cup of black coffee.

he'd walk out onto the little balcony in the back of his apartment and drink his coffee first before lighting the cigarette and letting the smoke disperse with the polluted city air.

the city always looked so alive. and yoongi always felt so dead.

funny how in literal terms, yoongi was the one who was actually alive.

and this morning, he pulled out his crimson red lighter, switched it on, and lit fire to the cigarette as he had done many times before.

a perfect cylindrical roll of poison and nicotine, now burning up so the poison would enter his lungs as air.

he breathed in the gas, and breathed it back out. cigarette smoke curled up above his head and slowly disappeared.

"that stuff could kill you, you know."

yoongi turned around to where the voice came from.

usually he was alone on the balconies. who else would want to be outside, breathing in gasoline and chemicals from the city?

another man about his age stood on the balcony beside his.

a single sheet of glass, four feet tall, separated the two.

"the cigarette. smoking. it'll kill you."

"i know."

"then why do you do it?"

when yoongi didn't answer, he pulled out his hand from his pocket.

"nice to meet you. i'm park jimin, i just moved in."

yoongi shook his hand gently.

"i'm min yoongi, and hate to be so dark on our first encounter but," he paused and smiled. "i smoke to die."