Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The world ends with Kim Doyoung’s death.

At least, that’s how it feels for Jaehyun. Here he is, smoking his fifth cigarette in some moldy alleyway in a sketchy neighborhood while his best friend is buried six feet under.

Gone. Departed. No more.

There’s about a million adjectives Jaehyun can use, but at the end of the day, the best way to explain Doyoung is just dead.

Footsteps echo behind him. Jaehyun doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is. Only one person walks like that, with long strides and surprisingly nimble footsteps. Despite his tall build, Johnny is surprisingly graceful when he wants to be.

“Thought I’d find you here,” Johnny says, clamping a hand down on Jaehyun’s shoulder. “I feel like there’s no where else you disappear to anymore.”

Wryly, Jaehyun chuckles and flicks his wrist to toss out the cigarette—kisses of death, Doyoung used to always scold. “Do you know about hyung’s parents?” Jaehyun says.

“No?” The confusion is evident in Johnny’s deep voice. “He never talked about his family that much.”

Jaehyun snorts. “Yeah, because they didn’t matter. The mother ran away and the father shot up his veins until he was gone. That’s why hyung was brought into my house.”

He fixes his gaze on the decrepit white house across the street. This neighborhood didn’t used to be sketchy. If anything, it had been quite refined and elegant back in the day. Wealthy CEOs and celebrities owned vacation homes in this particular district and the paparazzi were always present.

Up until seven years ago, that is. When Jaehyun shot his father in the head.

Johnny lets out a long sigh. “Jae, you can’t keep doing this. Dons is gone.”

“Why,” Jaehyun speaks through gritted teeth. “Does everyone feel the need to keep reminding me? I know he’s dead, hyung. I heard his screams.”

I can never forget those screams.

The hand on his shoulder tightens its grip. “Jae, let’s go back. There’s no point in being here.”

Jaehyun doesn’t bother fighting.

“Password?”

“Mark. We don’t have a fucking password.”

“Password?”

“This is ridiculous. You clearly know who we are, you little brat.”

“Password? Last chance.”

“Absolutely fully capable Mark Lee,” Jaehyun says at last, unable to resist smiling at Johnny’s exasperated expression.

The door swings open. “Oh, it’s you two,” Mark waves cheerfully. The bandages around his left arm look freshly applied. “Come on in!”

Johnny immediately grabs Mark in a headlock. “Password, huh? Next time I’ll kick the door open,” he teases, ruffling Mark’s hair as viciously as possible.

“Ow, ow!” Mark yelps, struggling to free himself to no avail. “Jaehyun-hyung, help! I’m being abused!”

Jaehyun dismissively waves a hand as he steps into the foyer. “You’re a genius; get yourself out.”

Ignoring the squabbling behind him, Jaehyun makes his way down the hall. Without even sparing a glance at Yuta and Sicheng making out on the living room couch, he enters the kitchen and grabs the first bottle of gin he sees.

“You know that’s not healthy,” Kun comments disapprovingly. It’s his turn to cook today, and he’s preparing some kind of Chinese stew that smells nice. “I’d hide the alcohol, but I know you’d find it in no time. Or kill me.”

“How clever of you,” Jaehyun remarks dryly. He gulps down a sizable portion of the bottle before setting it back down. “But just for you, I’ll keep it down tonight. Can’t get too fucked for a mission,” he adds with a twisted smile.

Kun shoots him a wary look out of the corner of his eye. “Jaehyun…” Kun begins to say, then thinks better of it and shakes his head. “As long as you think you’re ready,” he sighs.

Jaehyun’s fingers itch to grab at the bottle of gin again, but instead he manages to plaster a fake smile on his face. Kun definitely knows it’s fake, but Jaehyun doesn’t care. “I’m fine,” he says with a tone of finality.

He’s not, but he’s gotten good at pretending to be so.

Yuta moans in happiness as he finishes the rest of his stew. “Oh my god Kun, you’re a godsend,” he exclaims.

“Didn’t you say that about me last night?” Sicheng comments flippantly, effectively causing Yuta to choke.

“We have a minor at the table!” Johnny shouts indignantly.

Mark’s head shoots up. “I’m nineteen!” He snaps defensively.

“You’re still a baby,” Ten coos, reaching out to pinch Mark’s persisting round cheeks.

Jaehyun, meanwhile, calmly ignores the fuss and stands up. “Dinner was great. Thanks, Kun-hyung,” he smiles briefly as he picks up his bowl.

“Put the bowl down,” Kun says without raising his eyes. “Ten’s already said he’ll do the dishes tonight. You go plan your mission or whatever.”

Pretending not to notice the edge to Kun’s voice, Jaehyun signals for Sicheng, Yuta, Mark, and Johnny to follow him. The four head upstairs to Jaehyun’s room, where the mood immediately becomes somber upon entrance.

Three months ago, Jaehyun used to share this room with Doyoung. Now, it’s just him. Doyoung’s bed is still neatly made and untouched from his last morning, and the closet is still full of his clothes. Even his bunny plushie still rests against his pillow. When he died, Jaehyun forbid anyone from moving any of Doyoung’s stuff. No one’s even dared to walk on that half of the room.

“Alright,” Jaehyun seats himself on his bed. The others sit cross-legged on the floor in front of him, gazing up at him expectantly.

“We already know the drill. Sicheng’s in charge of the initial distraction, and then Yuta takes the first shot. The rest of us sneak in, and then Johnny and Mark keep watch while I do my job,” Jaehyun recites emotionlessly.

A lifetime of these operations makes it a little less exciting and more mundane each time. Every time he gets a request, it’s not even remotely thrilling. It feels like another day at the office, which is ridiculous because Jaehyun’s never worked at an office a single day of his life.

Mark cautiously raises his bandaged arm up. He’d gotten into a scuffle when an older man had tried to mug him late one night. Mark obviously escaped, but not without a few scratches. “Hyung, are you sure you can handle this?” He asks quietly, like he’s afraid he’s going to get scolded for saying the wrong thing.

Normally, Jaehyun would have snapped. He’s so sick and tired of everyone asking him how he feels—his best friend’s dead and the only thing people can talk about are his feelings?—but Mark is different. He’s young and still naïve surprisingly gentle, and Jaehyun has a fondness for him he’d never admit.

“I’m fine, Markie,” he feigns a smile. Lately, he’s been doing that an awful lot. “It’s been almost three months. It’s okay.”

Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t believe a word that comes out of his mouth. Johnny, Sicheng, and Yuta don’t seem to, either, but Mark appears visibly relieved. Let him stay a child just a little longer, even if the rest of his life has been fucked up beyond repair.

“Okay!” He grins, sticking his thumb up encouragingly. “Then let’s do well tomorrow, hyung!”

Jaehyun fakes another smile. “It’ll all be fine,” he says.

Again, he doesn’t believe himself.

“Hey,” Doyoung prods Jaehyun in the temple.

Jaehyun grumbles in annoyance, rolling over on his side to try and drift back asleep. “Get out of my room, Dons,” he mutters.

“First of all, it’s hyung to you,” Doyoung reprimands, flicking Jaehyun on the back of the head. “And secondly, I actually have something I need to ask. Like, it’s serious.”

“What?” Jaehyun yawns uninterestedly.

There’s a pregnant pause before Doyoung speaks up again. “Don’t you ever think about having a different life?”

“The fuck are you on about?”

“Hear me out. Don’t you wish you could have born into different circumstances? Jae, do you really want this life? Is this really what you asked for?”

A cold fist curls around Jaehyun’s heart, freezing the blood in his veins to ice. “Of course I didn’t fucking ask for this,” he snaps. “But there’s nothing I can do, is there? This is the life I’ve been given. Wishing for a different one won’t change anything.”

“Jae,” Doyoung sighs, and Jaehyun can imagine the way he bites down his lower lip in frustration. “It’s not too late. Despite what you may think, it really isn’t. There’s always enough time for change.”

Jaehyun rolls over to face his best friend. Recently, Doyoung dyed his hair to a strange dark purple. It works on him, but Jaehyun personally doesn’t think it matches his character at all. Besides, why would a hitman have dyed hair? That’s just asking for unwanted attention.

“There’s not enough time,” Jaehyun says. “I ran out of time fifteen years ago.”

“You’re twenty years old!” Doyoung points out. “You have so much time left.”

Jaehyun laughs mirthlessly. “I could be in a coffin by tomorrow, Dons. Just like my family. Just like that bastard.”

“And the thing is,” he continues. “I wouldn’t even mind.”

After Jaehyun shot his father and Doyoung killed all the guards, the two of them relocated to an isolated little house just by the forest. At first it was a little shitty and rundown, but the two of them managed to transform it into a proper living space. But it was too big for them, which is why they recruited Sicheng and Kun, two Chinese assassins. Or at least, Sicheng still took up the gun. Kun gave it up years ago, but he still stayed with them and helped out when needed. Then came Yuta, who’d left Japan to escape his old group. He’d fallen for Sicheng head over heels, and since then he’s been a vital member of the squad.

Then there was Mark. Jaehyun vividly remembers everything about their first meeting like it happened yesterday. He was twenty-one at the time and had been retrieving water from the well when there was a rustle to his right. He’d looked over to find a skinny, wide-eyed adolescent boy with dirt smudges on his face. Help, the boys had said. Help me.

Naturally, Jaehyun took the boy back inside, where he was immediately fussed over by Kun. The boy’s name was Mark, and he’d just fled from a place he’d been held captive at for ten years. He didn’t know the name of the place or the people keeping him, but he'd had a lifetime of scars and brutal training and guns. Trained to be the master assassin, he’d been told, and now he’d finally found his way out.

Jaehyun took him in without a second thought. He saw himself in this small, frightened, but battle trained boy. He had to protect him.

Last to come were Johnny and Ten. They’d arrived three years ago, telling Jaehyun they were a married couple who secretly worked as hitmen. They wanted to join him, they’d said. They had no other choice.

The house wasn’t too big, but it was enough for a group of young, clever criminals. The couples each had their own rooms while Kun had one to himself and Mark slept on the couch. Jaehyun used to room with Doyoung, but that’s obviously been changed.

Jaehyun didn’t like people. He only tolerated Doyoung because they’d been together since they were little—who was he kidding, Jaehyun fiercely loved Doyoung more than anyone—and initially only let the others into his life out of necessity. But he did care for all of them more than he’d ever say out loud. He liked Kun’s cooking, Sicheng and Yuta’s lovey-dovey antics, Johnny’s reliability, Ten’s energy, and Mark’s spirit. But Doyoung was always the most important person in his life. Despite being a year younger than Doyoung, Jaehyun took it upon himself at a young age to protect him. They were best friends, and that’s what best friends did. Jaehyun loved him like a real brother, because Doyoung was the closest thing to family Jaehyun had.

Too bad Jaehyun couldn’t protect him forever. Because Doyoung was the one in the coffin while Jaehyun was still alive, waiting for the time to tick away until he too was dead.

"You're pretty unsubtle, you know," Jaehyun remarks between sips of his iced coffee. "I bet she knows you've been staring at her this whole time. Actually, she definitely knows. I'd be pretty creeped out if some bunny boy wouldn't stop staring at me."

Doyoung pretends to stab Jaehyun with his fork. "Shut the fuck up and die," he deadpans. Then, with another nervous glance over at the pretty barista, Doyoung mumbles, "But is it really that creepy?"

Jaehyun shrugs. "A little, but don't worry. She seems to be paying more attention to that dude," he says, gesturing to a tall man with dyed platinum blonde hair and wide shoulders. Currently, the barista is laughing at something he says and is slapping him playfully on the shoulder.

"Sehun-ssi?" Doyoung snorts dismissively. "Nah, he's her best friend. She calls him hyung and everything."

Jaehyun raises an amused brow. "Oh? And how would you know so much about someone when this is supposedly your first ever visit to this café?" He teases.

Immediately, Doyoung flushes in embarrassment. "Okay," he grumbles. "So maybe I've been here a few times. Many times, in fact. But she never remembers my name, so it's not like she even notices me, anyway."

"I don't know man, I'd remember a creepy bunny man."

Suddenly, Jaehyun realizes that his teasing isn't affecting Doyoung like it normally does. Doyoung tends to spring into fight mode when made fun of, but now he just looks sad. As he forlornly glances back over to the counter, Jaehyun knows the truth. 

Doyoung doesn't just find the barista pretty. He  likes her. Really likes her.

"Dons," Jaehyun says quietly. "You know it's not safe. Not for you, and especially not for her."

"I know," Doyoung snaps. He must have been more harsh than he'd intended, because he winces right after the words leave his mouth. "Sorry. It's just...I wish I could be more normal, you know? Aren't most twenty-two year olds finishing up university or something? Don't they date and meet people all the time?"

"You're pretty sexually active," Jaehyun tries to supply helpfully.

Doyoung rolls his eyes. "There hasn't been anyone since..." he trails off, and the way his eyes flicker back over to the pretty barista with the wide forehead says all.

Jaehyun examines her more closely. She seems really sweet, he thinks. The best friend--Sehun, was that his name?--appears to be very protective of her, but they have a brother-sister relationship more than anything. She laughs loudly and keeps punching Sehun every now and then. Every time a customer comes up, they always end up smiling with the way she chats to them. 

He can see why Doyoung likes her. She's bright and attracts people naturally.

But unfortunately, Jaehyun and Doyoung both know that looking for love isn't an option. Not in their field of work.

So Doyoung keeps stealing glances over at the pretty barista, and not for the first time, Jaehyun wishes he could help his best friend.

He wakes up to the sound of a knock on the door. Over the years, Jaehyun’s been able to pick up on who’s there by the way they knock. Ten and Yuta flat out refuse to knock, while Johnny’s is stern and loud and always in threes. Kun is much gentler but more repetitive, and Sicheng is probably the most polite with his single knock.

Mark, however, has always sounded hesitant. Perhaps it’s just because he’s young and surrounded by men considerably older than him, but Jaehyun suspects it’s also because Mark fears something from his past. He doesn’t know what happened at the place Mark was held, but he suspects it wasn’t anything good.

“Come in,” Jaehyun says, checking his phone for the time. His lock screen of him and Doyoung smiling mocks him.

Mark quietly enters and slinks over to Jaehyun’s bed. “Hi, hyung. Sorry to bother you, but I can’t sleep,” he mumbles under his breath, picking at the hem of his oversized shirt.

Jaehyun merely gestures for Mark to sit on the bed. “Nervous for tomorrow?”

“Not really,” Mark shrugs. “I mean, it’s nothing new to what we’ve always done. But I…I miss him, hyung. Not as much as you, but I really miss him.”

The familiar chill runs down Jaehyun’s spine. He wants to scream at the mention of Doyoung. He doesn’t want to hear any more about his dead best friend, because Jaehyun’s fine, goddammit. He can’t deal with this any more. He wants to tell Mark to get the fuck out of his room and never mention Doyoung again.

Instead, he sighs, and pats the teenager on the back. “I know. He was a great person,” Jaehyun murmurs.

Mark sniffles. “It’s not fair,” he whispers. “Why did it have to be Doyoung-hyung? Why did it have to be any of us? Why do we have to do this?”

Kid, I’ve been asking myself that same question for twenty years now and I still don’t have any answers.

“It’s okay, Mark. You’re allowed to be sad.” The words taste bitter and like a lie, but Jaehyun doesn’t want to make Mark suffer any more. “I miss him, too. So much. But there’s nothing I can do about it. What happened happened. I’m sure Doyoung-hyung’s still watching over all of us, and especially you.”

It doesn’t matter if it’s a lie, because the way Mark wipes his tears away and smiles weakly make it all okay. Mark is only nineteen, and Jaehyun will preserve whatever’s left of his innocence for as long as he can.

“Sometimes I dream about hyung,” Mark says quietly. “I have dreams where I’ll wake up up on the couch because he’s singing in the kitchen. And I keep on thinking they’re real, but then I wake up and they’re not. He’s still gone.” With an inquisitive gaze, he goes on to say, “Do you dream about him, too?”

“No,” Jaehyun sighs tiredly, a headache already beginning at his temples. “I don’t. And it’s late, Mark. You should go back downstairs and get some sleep.”

As a second thought, he adds, “Or you can stay here and sleep, too. I’ll even cuddle if it makes you feel better.”

Needless to say, Mark falls asleep with his face buried in Jaehyun’s chest. Jaehyun, however, doesn’t sleep at all. He’s too afraid of dreaming.

The day after Doyoung died, Jaehyun went to the closest bar and drank himself into oblivion. Johnny once told him that people didn’t actually completely change once they got drunk, but that alcohol only amplified whatever mood they were currently feeling. Jaehyun didn’t know much about the science behind booze, but he did know that he felt shitty and sad and felt even shittier and sadder five glasses of tequila in.

He also remembers a man that night. A short, skinny man with large eyes and pink hair. A man who looked far too soft and innocent to be at some crappy bar. He’d been with friends, but his gaze had been transfixed on Jaehyun the whole night, staring in awe like he’d never seen anything so beautiful. Eventually, the man made his way over to Jaehyun’s side at the counter and timidly asked if he could buy him a drink. Jaehyun rejected the offer, but then the man tried again and damn if he wasn’t cute. He reminded Jaehyun of a little kitten with the way he stammered and shook nervously. Finally, Jaehyun decided to give in. He gripped the man by the nape of his neck and brought him down to a kiss.

He remembers thrusting into the man long into the night, in some apartment that smelled like paint. He remembers the way the man squirmed nervously and admitted that it was his first time, which made Jaehyun feel even shittier. He wasn’t good enough to be anyone’s first time, and especially not this sweet man’s. He was poison and evil and everything bad about the world, but at that moment in time, it didn't matter. He’d defiled the man anyway, tearing him apart in every place possible. The skinny man fell asleep with bruises flowering across his chest and neck and back, and Jaehyun had felt so spent he’d dozed off next to him.

And then he dreamed of the screams, which jolted him awake. When he saw the beautiful man peacefully asleep next to him, the guilt hit Jaehyun. Hard. He took his clothes and left without a word. He didn't even know his name.

The screams haunt him every night. He’s tried every method possible—meditation, mindfulness, herbal drinks, white noise machines—but no matter how easy it is to fall asleep, he’ll hear the screams. The sound of Doyoung’s voice as he’s being shot never fails to remind Jaehyun of his death.

Every night Jaehyun goes to bed hoping he’ll sleep dreamlessly, and every night he sits awake in fear of hearing the screams.

Chapter Text

“Holy shit,” Doyoung breathes out, his eyes as large as twin moons as he takes in the sight in front of him. “What have you done, Yoonoh? What have you done?”

Coolly, Jaehyun lifts and lowers a shoulder, busy examining the still wispy barrel of his pistol. “I did what I had to,” he replies. “And now you’re going to help me get the fuck out of here for good.”

Doyoung pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “You’re unbelievable, Jung Yoonoh,” he mutters in resignation.

Jaehyun shoots him a glare. “That,” he says coldly. “Is not my name.”

Despite being a year younger and barely eighteen, Jaehyun is terrifying when he has that look on his face. Doyoung’s become well-acquainted with that icy, threatening glower, but it’s never been directed at him. Now that it is, Doyoung thinks he knows why Jaehyun was hit so often.

“Alright,” Doyoung sighs. “Let’s get this over with. Where do we hide the body?”

“Hide?” Jaehyun tilts his head with a wicked smirk. Without even glancing down, he kicks the still bleeding body of his father. “Who said anything about hiding this piece of shit?”

The implication behind his words dawns on Doyoung. With another long sigh, Doyoung bends down to pull the dead man’s gun out of his holster. “Alright. I guess I’m on cleanup duty,” he salutes weakly.

The first guard to open the door gets shot square in the chest.

Johnny doesn’t look surprised to find Jaehyun sitting in the kitchen at six in the morning, nursing a cup of cold coffee. The taller man simply nods in acknowledgment as he pours water into the kettle. “No sleep again, huh?” He remarks.

“None,” Jaehyun responds, wincing at how dead his voice sounds. As dead as Doyoung, he thinks wryly to himself. The joke is so distasteful he can’t help but find it funny. “I let Mark crash with me and he snores like hell.”

“Mmm, right,” Johnny hums.

Jaehyun hates that specific hum. Johnny only ever hums when he’s with Ten or not buying whatever bullshit’s just been thrown at him, and Ten isn’t here right now.

Groaning, Jaehyun gets up and dumps his cold coffee down the sink. “What’s the point of going to sleep when you’re just gonna wake up again because of your dead best friend’s screams?” He points out flatly.

“I get it,” Johnny says. “You’re still grieving. That’s perfectly normal.”

“I’m not fucking grieving,” Jaehyun mutters in response, but the words sound unconvincing even to his own ears.

“I just…”

Johnny raises a brow, motioning for Jaehyun to continue. “You just what, Jae?”

Swallowing down whatever pride he has left, Jaehyun hoarsely whispers, “I’m too scared to dream.”

Because to dream means reliving the last day. Dreaming means he has to go all the way back to that job that went wrong and they ended up getting ambushed. When he managed to get Yuta, Sicheng, and Mark all out safely while he, Johnny, and Doyoung stayed behind. When Jaehyun turned his back for a single second and then he heard a scream. An unnaturally loud, piercing, banshee-like scream that froze every vein in Jaehyun’s body.

When he turned around, Doyoung was bleeding out on the floor. He’d tried rushing over to help, but then Johnny grabbed him by the arm and forced him to run in the opposite direction, insisting that Doyoung was gone already. And Jaehyun let himself be dragged away, because he knew there was only one thing a scream like that could mean.

“Hey,” Johnny’s voice brings Jaehyun back to the present. The taller man smiles at him softly, his eyes encouraging and supportive. “You’re okay, Jaehyun. Even if you don’t feel like it, you are going to be okay.”

Jaehyun can’t quite meet Johnny’s gaze. “I don’t know,” he replies. “I think I’m too fucked up to get better.”

Mark’s still sleeping soundly when Jaehyun reenters his room to change. It’s bizarre to think of anything being innocent in this lifestyle, but when Mark hugs his pillow to his chest and snores lightly, he looks so childlike and pure it hits Jaehyun like a bullet to the chest.

By the time Jaehyun finishes pulling his dark shirt over his head, Mark has just woken up. “Hey,” Jaehyun smiles briefly. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah,” Mark yawns. “Thanks for letting me crash, hyung. Your bed’s so much nicer than the couch.”

Jaehyun merely rolls his eyes. “Don’t get used to it, kid. You’re back to the couch tonight,” he teases.

Neither of them mention the blatant elephant in the room that comes in the form of Doyoung’s empty, untouched bed.

“Anyway,” Jaehyun clears his throat. “We’re heading out this evening. Make sure you’ve eaten dinner and have everything ready before six.”

“Sweet,” Mark salutes. “Oh, but I think Ten confiscated my knives last night. Said something about how he doesn’t like seeing me carry them while I’m still a baby. But I’m nineteen, so I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

Jaehyun laughs, fondly reaching over to ruffle Mark’s dark hair. “You’re a fucking fetus, kid. Ten has every right to take your toys away from you.”

Mark pouts, which Jaehyun takes as a sign of defeat. He’s about to head out when suddenly, Mark calls his name.

“Hey, hyung?” Mark says quietly. “Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah?” Jaehyun glances over his shoulder. “What’s up?”

Mark clasps his hands together in his lap. “I actually didn’t sleep very well,” he confesses quietly. “I had a nightmare, and it was bad. It was about the people who took me. I guess you can relate, right?”

Oh, Mark, Jaehyun thinks sadly. You’re far too young for all this shit in your life.

He says, “I know. And don’t worry; the nightmares stop after a while.”

“But they don’t,” Mark interrupts with an insistent shake of his head. “They don’t go away, hyung. They haven’t gone away after four years, and I know you still have nightmares too. I hear you pacing around a lot when you think everyone’s asleep.”

Jaehyun’s blood runs cold. Mark knows. He’s known this whole time. And even worse than that, he has the same problem as Jaehyun. How has he been having nightmares for so long without anyone knowing? How has he stayed sane all this time?

Jaehyun feels the urge to cry, but he forces it down. Shoves it six feet deep in the earth and leaves the unshed tears a secret.

“It’s going to be okay, Mark,” he says, echoing Johnny’s words from earlier. But what does Johnny, who’s never gone through the same trauma, know about recovery? “We’re all going to be okay.”

“Can I get a name for that order?”

Doyoung tries his best to not visibly wilt when the pretty barista once again doesn’t know his name. It’s perfectly normal, he knows, because she must get so many customers every day. But he can’t help but wish she would at least remember him one of these days.

“Doyoung,” he says, hoping it rings some kind of bell in her mind.

The barista—Sejeong, her name tag reads—nods as she scribbles his name down on his cup. “Be ready soon,” she smiles, already turning around to go make his drink.

Doyoung selects a seat at the counter and pretends to be occupied with his phone, well aware of the pair of eyes fixated on him. It’s that guy who’s always with Sejeong—Friend? Boyfriend? Fiancé? Something?—even though he clearly doesn’t actually work at the café. But every time Doyoung’s come in, he’s seen the tall guy with broad shoulders sitting behind the counter, talking animatedly with Sejeong. Doyoung would be lying if he said he weren’t a little intimidated by him, especially when he doesn’t even know what this guy’s relation is to Sejeong.

“Here you go, Doyoung-ssi,” Sejeong’s voice rings out as a cup is placed in front of him. Instead of leaving, she leans over the counter and smiles with all her teeth showing, her eyes curving into crescent moons.

Doyoung’s breath catches in his throat.

“I feel like I see you here a lot lately,” she comments. “Are you new to the neighborhood?”

“Uh, no. I just discovered this place on the way to work one day,” Doyoung clumsily trips over his words. “I like it a lot. Very nice coffee. All the flowers are a nice touch, too.”

He can see Sejeong’s friend hiding a laugh behind a large hand, and Doyoung is not amused.

“Good to hear, considering I run this place,” Sejeong grins. “I’ll tell the owner your nice feedback,” she adds with a wink.

“That’s cheesy as hell, Sejeongie!” The guy calls from behind her.

“You can shut up, hyung,” she replies smoothly, playfully punching his shoulder. “You’re not exactly smooth, either.”

And now Doyoung officially can’t take any more of this. Hastily, he snatches his coffee cup and clears his throat, says, “Well, I have to go right about now. I’ll see you tomorrow—or maybe not tomorrow but, uh, sometime soon. Alright. I’ll get going now.”

He runs out with flushed cheeks, vaguely aware of Sejeong and her friend’s amused laughs.

Kun’s giving him that look again, and Jaehyun’s just about had enough.

“Why,” he mutters through gritted teeth, “is everyone making that face to me today?”

“Oh, me? I’m not doing anything,” Kun shrugs. “Unless, of course, you’re just super on edge and feeling confrontational. Maybe that’s why you think the whole world’s out to get you.”

If anyone besides maybe Mark dared speak to him like that, Jaehyun would have taken his pistol out and whipped him across the face. But this was Kun, who, despite his calm and motherly demeanor, didn’t take shit from anyone. Suppressing an exasperated sigh, Jaehyun collapses down on his seat next to Yuta and starts digging into his plate of toast.

“So what’s the mission again?” Kun asks, smoothly changing the subject. He doesn’t go out on active jobs anymore, but he still likes to stay informed about the status of his beloved friends.

“Yang Hyunsuk,” Yuta says through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “This guy who goes by LSM order us to take a hit on him. Something about unpaid and long overdue debt, I think.”

Sicheng nods. “This Yang guy runs an all-boys private school, but apparently he only got the money to open it through LSM. It’s been like ten years and Yang still hasn’t returned millions of won. So LSM got tired of waiting.”

Kun raises a brow. “A bit extreme to take a hit, isn’t it?” He remarks with a small frown. “Couldn’t this LSM guy just take over the school? He could definitely win any court case considering Yang’s held accountable for the debt.”

“People go to extremes all the time,” Jaehyun shrugs. “If LSM wants to take a hit, then so be it. Yang sounds like a piece of shit anyway.”

“Extremes, huh?” Kun mutters under his breath. “You’re one to talk.”

Jaehyun very pointedly ignores Kun’s snarky statement and focuses on spreading butter over his toast.

“Anyway,” Johnny clears his throat upon noticing the tension in the air. “The security at the school is supposed to be really strong, so we’re getting Ten here to hack into the cameras first. Taking out the actual guards won’t be an issue, and then Jae knows what he’s doing. Mark and I are on cleanup duty.”

Alright. I guess I’m on cleanup duty.

Jaehyun tightens his grip on his fork.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were going,” Kun blinks at Ten, who’s currently preening against Johnny’s side.

“Nah,” Ten shakes his head. “Sicheng snuck in and planted a bug in the school a few days ago. I can break into the system from here.”

“I see,” Kun purses his lips. Jaehyun knows what that expression means—Kun’s worried, but he’s trying his best to be supportive. Even after all these years, he still makes that face before every mission.

Sighing, Jaehyun sets his utensils down and says, “Hyung, we’ll be okay. It’s nothing new. We’ll even be back for breakfast, okay?”

Kun doesn’t look any less worried, but at least he gives Jaehyun a small nod.

Someone’s fingers tap on Doyoung’s shoulder. Automatically, his body tenses up and his hands curl into fists, reflexes trained to strike back. But then he remembers he’s in a public café where enemies are hardly likely to strike, and it would be entirely inappropriate to backhand some innocent person across the face. So Doyoung looks up and comes face to face with the unfairly handsome man the pretty barista always seems to be with.

“Hi, you’re Doyoung, right?” The handsome man greets awkwardly. He’s very tall and broad-shouldered, with eyes that curl into crescents when he smiles. Most of the times Doyoung’s seen him, he looks serious unless the pretty barista is talking to him.

“Um, yes?” Doyoung replies, unsure of what exactly is going on. “Can I help you?”

The man scratches the back of his neck, a sheepish smile playing across his lips. “My name is Oh Sehun. And I’m not dating Sejeongie, just to let you know.”

If Doyoung had been drinking his coffee, he would have spat it all across Oh Sehun’s face in shock. “What the fuck,” he blurts out in a panic. “Sorry, uh, what? What are you talking about, Sehun-ssi?”

“Hyung is fine,” Sehun waves dismissively. “And I just thought I’d let you know that Sejeong and I aren’t a thing. Well, we’re best friends, but we’re not dating. Just to let you know.”

Upon noticing Doyoung’s incredulous expression, Sehun chuckles a little and says, “Sejeongie’s a little oblivious sometimes, but I’m not. I’ve seen you come in every week whenever it’s her shift, and how you look sad when she doesn’t remember your name. I’ve also noticed how you keep running away whenever you see me talking to her, so I put two and two together. Well I just thought you’d like to know that Sejeong doesn’t see me as any more than an older brother, and that I approve of you so far because you seem like a nice guy. So grow a pair, why don’t you?”

Nice guy, huh? Doyoung wants to laugh at that. How can he be a nice guy if he kills someone every other week? When the first time he held a gun was when he was ten, and he was only twelve when he first took a man’s life?

But Sehun is clearly making an effort to reach out, and Sejeong the pretty barista is awfully close to him. They must be very protective of each other, so it’s nice that Doyoung’s gotten the stamp of approval from the best friend already.

“Thanks, Sehun-hyung,” Doyoung grins. “I really appreciate that.”

“A proper thank you would be for you to go up right now and order another drink,” Sehun replies, pulling Doyoung up by the arm and shoving him towards the counter. “Sejeongie’s break just ended, so she should be back at the register like now.”

Doyoung laughs. “Okay, I get it,” he grins.

He’s about to make his way over to the counter when his phone buzzes. Frowning at the ever so perfect timing, Doyoung fishes it out of his pocket and is about to type a scathing reply to whomever’s texted him. Then he sees Jaehyun’s name flash across the screen and one word.

Cleanup.

Sighing, Doyoung shoots a forlorn look over to Sejeong and grips his phone tightly in his hand. “I’m sorry,” he says to Sehun. “Something’s just come up. But I swear I’ll be back.”

Sehun merely smiles. “I’ll let you off this one time.”

As Doyoung paces down the sidewalk to fix whatever problem Jaehyun’s gotten himself into this time, the reality of the situation suddenly dawns on him. He was just about to make a move on a girl. Maybe not the biggest problem in the world, but he knew he couldn’t drag her into his life. Not when he could die at any second.

You’re an idiot, he scolds himself, quickening his steps. You’re an idiot, and you can’t do whatever this is you want to do. Don’t risk her life or yours.

But deep inside, he knows he’ll go back tomorrow.

Jaehyun’s gotten so used to this same old routine that nothing strikes him as odd until the last possible second.

For one thing, it was awfully easy for Ten to hack into the security system. Meaning, there was no security system at all. LSM mentioned that Yang Hyunsuk had organized, high level technology implemented across the school to keep watch over the grounds. Ten, however, reported on the earpieces that the cameras were all standard ones, and that there certainly weren’t any lasers or fancy devices, no matter how hard he searched for them.

That’s when Jaehyun started to feel suspicious, but then Yuta and Johnny wave it off, saying that it’s a good thing Ten didn’t find anything. So they went ahead with the plan by sending Yuta and Sicheng out to distract and deal with the guards.

Except, there were no guards. Campus security was practically nonexistent.

“Maybe they’re slacking off,” Sicheng suggested, shrugging nonchalantly. “You guys head in. We’ll do some patrolling, so call us if you need backup.”

Jaehyun thought twice about it, but then decided that Sicheng was probably right and went on with the procedure.

Usually, Jaehyun, Johnny, and Mark were in charge of the actual break in. Jaehyun would sneak his way into the room of the target, while Johnny and Mark stood guard and performed cleanup. Mark, who’d been trained by the people who’d captured him to be able to pick any lock, would usually have to unlock the doors. Today, however, the door swung open easily without any prompting.

The three exchange confused looks, but Johnny waves for Jaehyun to go in and do the job. So Jaehyun did just that.

He found a middle aged man sitting at a desk, surprise all over his face. Yang Hyunsuk looked just as oily as he did in the pictures Jaehyun had been sent, but something was wrong. He certainly didn’t look like someone Jaehyun would like, but he didn’t seem evil, either. Yang looked fairly normal, if anything—the opposite of what Jaehyun expected out of a money launderer.

“What’s going on?” Yang demands shakily, lifting his hands up in the air when he saw Jaehyun’s revolver. “Who are you?”

“A certain LSM sent me here,” Jaehyun comments casually, taking a few strides forward until he was right in Yang’s face. “I heard you haven’t been paying your debts? How irresponsible,” he tsks, enjoying the way Yang squirms in his seat.

“LSM?” Yang echoes, furrowing his brow in confusion. “You mean Sooman-ssi? What are you talking about? What debt?”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes and makes a show of pressing his revolver down on the desk. “That’s not really my business. But I have been instructed to kill you, so do you want to confess everything first before you go?”

“Wait!” Yang clasps his hands together like he’s praying. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I paid off all my debt years ago! Sooman-ssi must be mistaken. Please believe me!”

Having grown quite bored and deciding that enough was enough, Jaehyun presses the barrel of his gun against Yang’s forehead. “Sorry, but it’s none of my business,” he smirks.

Yang’s blood splatters across the walls.

Jaehyun wipes his gloves clean and is about to head out when he notices something on Yang’s desk. On top of a stack of papers lies a black envelope with a red seal and a name written on it in bright red ink.

Jung Yoonoh

Like his hands have a mind of their hand, Jaehyun finds himself reaching for the envelope and breaking open the seal. Inside rests a simple index card, but the words cause time to stop.

Thank you for your cooperation.

The next day, after doing cleanup for Jaehyun once again, Doyoung confidently strides into the café, ready to finally speak to Sejeong the pretty barista. He’s got this. Totally. He’s picked up plenty of people at bars before; it shouldn’t be hard to charm his way to Sejeong’s heart.

The second he steps inside, he immediately wants to turn back around. Because instead of best friend Sehun sitting behind the counter, there’s an unfamiliar man. He has wide shoulders like Sehun, but has much darker hair and looks a few years older. And currently, he’s speaking animatedly to Sejeong as she smiles at him.

Of course, Doyoung thinks. Of course he’s not the only one who’s been transfixed by her. She’s charismatic and warm, so naturally people are amazed by her.

“I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you,” Sehun’s voice chimes in right behind him, causing Doyoung to jump. “Junghyun-hyung’s her ex,” he explains sagely, patting Doyoung sympathetically on the shoulder.

Doyoung just side-eyes him. “Is that supposed to be encouraging?” He groans.

“I mean, it’s not like they’re dating now,” Sehun shrugs. “They broke up like, a year ago. He had to transfer to Jeonju for his job, and she wasn’t willing to completely uproot and leave the café behind since her family’s been running it for generations. And they agreed that long distance was a little too much, so they decided to call it quits. Hyung visits every time he’s in Seoul, but they’re definitely not getting back together any time soon.”

Now that Doyoung looks a little closer, he has to admit that the way Sejeong smiles at this Junghyun is the same way she smiles at Sehun. They even seem to have the same dynamic together, so Doyoung supposes Sehun’s right.

“Hey, Sehun-hyung?” Doyoung says cautiously. “Why are you being so nice? How do you know I’m not just some creep?”

Sehun takes a moment to think, his face devoid of emotion. Finally he just shrugs again, says, “Like I said, you seem nice. There’ve been plenty of creeps around here, but you don’t strike me as one.”

“And anyway,” he adds with a secretive smile. “Sejeongie may not remember your name, but she did tell me she thinks you’re cute. So why not?”

“Is it just me,” Kun quirks a brow. “Or did you get back awfully early today?”

Yuta shrugs. “Yeah, I guess we did. But what’s so bad about that? It was an easy job and we finished nice and quickly.”

Sicheng rolls his eyes and elbows his boyfriend in the ribs, causing the latter to choke on his mouthful of chicken. “Idiot,” he mumbles. “It’s weird because LSM said a bunch of stuff about the high security, but that was an absolute joke. The two of us didn’t even need to be there.”

Kun’s frown deepens. “Then what about the actual hit? Was it easy?”

All eyes turn to Jaehyun, who hasn’t even touched his chopsticks the whole meal. He’s staring off pensively at nothing, fists clenched in his lap.

“Jae?” Johnny lightly shoves him. “You good?”

Blinking, Jaehyun slowly loosens his fingers and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, the hit wasn’t bad at all. Yang didn’t put up any fight at all,” he mumbles.

“Okay,” Kun throws his hands up in the air. “Am I the only one who finds this whole thing suspicious as hell? You get asked by some dude to make a hit, but the job is nothing like what you were warned? That’s a code red if I’ve ever heard one.”

Ten shrugs. “I mean, I thought the whole thing was pretty weird too, but maybe we’re overthinking things. Just be glad the job is done and now we don’t have to worry about Yang or LSM ever again,” he points out.

Kun looks like he wants to protest, but Jaehyun’s had enough. “It’s done and over with,” he states firmly. “Forget about it and move on.”

He ignores the feeling of the envelope in his pocket, the name he shed years ago burning against his leg.

Jung Jaehyun: Where the hell are you?

Wistfully, Doyoung sneaks one last glance at Sejeong before heading out of the café. Another day then, he thinks to himself.

The next morning, after another night of no sleep, Jaehyun decides that perhaps he should try a healthier coping method than smoking his lungs black. So, without telling anyone, he shrugs on his jacket and heads out for some fresh air.

It’s been a while since he went out like this by himself. For the first few weeks after Doyoung’s death, Johnny and Kun wouldn’t let him out of their sights for fear of what may happen. Which made sense, because not even Jaehyun trusts himself. But today, he swears, will be simple. He’ll take a nice walk along the Han River, get a light breakfast despite having no appetite these days, and head back to hang out with Mark. It’ll all be easy. No thinking of LSM or Yang or Doyoung.

(The screams still plague him every time he closes his eyes, but it’s getting better. At least, he thinks so.)

About an hour later, Jaehyun starts feeling a little hungry. He searches the streets for some kind of breakfast place, and then he sees it.

Star Blossom.

The next thing he knows, his feet have brought him over to the charming little café with flowers decorating almost every inch. There’s no doubt in his mind that this is it—this is the place Doyoung frequented because of the pretty barista.

It’s been what, four years since Jaehyun came here with him? After that one time they ate lunch, Doyoung never mentioned the girl again so Jaehyun assumed that it hadn’t worked out. Either Doyoung gave up because he knew he couldn’t be in a relationship with his profession, or the girl rejected him. That would explain why Doyoung was so moody for several months after that day.

“You going in?” A gruff, low voice interrupts his thoughts.

A tall, broad-shouldered man who looks to be a couple years older than Jaehyun raises a brow at him. Resisting the temptation to slap that expression off his face, Jaehyun tiredly nods and pulls the door open. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “Didn’t mean to block the way.”

The inside is exactly as he remembers. Flowerpots on every table, artwork displayed on the walls, and music from singers with wispy voices echoing throughout the room. Star Blossom looks the same a just about any locally run café, but Jaehyun sees why Doyoung liked it here. Other than the pretty barista, of course, the place makes him feel at peace. And with Jaehyun, it’s so hard to find solace.

“You gonna order anything?” The low voice says, once again breaking Jaehyun out of his trance.

The broad-shouldered guy’s now standing behind the register, wearing an apron that’s definitely too small for his frame. He stares at Jaehyun expectantly with unnerving eyes—it’s like the guy’s analyzing every bit of him from head to toe, and the worst part is that it seems like he sees through everything.

Awkwardly, Jaehyun clears his throat and approaches the counter. “Just a black coffee, please,” he says quietly. Squinting at the name tag on the guy’s apron, Jaehyun adds an unsure “Sejeong?”

“Huh?” The guy blinks and glances down at the tag. “Oh, I’m not Sejeong. I’m just helping out today because she’s on maternity leave. My name’s Sehun.”

The name sounds familiar, and now that Jaehyun thinks about it, so does this guy. With a jolt, he recognizes him as the guy the pretty barista had been talking to. And if he also remembers correctly, the pretty barista’s name had been Sejeong.

Maternity leave?

As Sehun busies himself with the machines, Jaehyun smiles wryly to himself. Good thing Doyoung’s not alive to see this.

“Here you go,” Sehun says, handing over a warm cup. “Have a nice day.”

As Jaehyun goes to find a seat, he’s completely unaware of Sehun’s solemn eyes boring into the back of his head.

The moment he sits down, he checks his phone to find a text from Johnny.

Johnny Seo: Come back now. There’s a problem.

There’s a problem, indeed.

Jaehyun rushes back home expecting something seriously bad. Something among the lines of one of the couples getting into a really rough fight, or maybe Mark breaking a bone.

Instead, he finds something inexplicably worse. When he bursts into the living room, he finds all of his roommates staring at him. He’s about to ask what the hell is going on, and then he sees it. Or him, per se.

A guy with pink hair and doe-like eyes sits on a chair, his expression soft and shy. He’s fidgeting with his bony hands while his legs bounce up and down nervously. And when he meets eyes with Jaehyun, a blush that matches his hair forms on his face.

“Hi, Jaehyun,” he whispers softly, so quietly Jaehyun almost doesn’t catch it.

His voice is gentle, but all it does is bring Jaehyun back to The Worst Night. When he drank glass after glass until he didn’t even know himself anymore. And the worst thing he did that night was take advantage of the poor soul who stared at him so innocently. When he bruised every inch of porcelain skin with angry marks and fucked the smaller man into oblivion.

Jaehyun doesn’t want to remember any of that.

So, very calmly, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He exhales and says in a steady voice, “Get the fuck out of here.”

“It’s been what, a month and you still haven’t made a move?” Sehun sighs dramatically, shaking his head in disappointment at the younger man. “So sad. At this rate, Sejeongie really never will remember your name. Is that how you want to die, huh?”

Doyoung rolls his eyes. “I don’t know, hyung. It’s pretty nerve-wracking when it seems like all the guys she hangs out with are so much hotter than me.”

To prove his point, he gestures over to where an angelic, bright-eyed boy occupies Sejeong’s attention. Doyoung’s seen him around a few times before, and the guy seems to be pretty good friends with Sejeong.

“Again with that?” Sehun tsks. “Look man, Eunwoo’s literally just her friend. And honestly, they don’t even look like a couple at all. I’m pretty sure he’s gay, actually, so there’s that.”

Sehun leans closer with a knowing gleam in his eyes. “Besides,” he smirks. “I don’t buy your bullshit. You’re just using all her guy friend as an excuse because you’re too chicken to actually do anything. Admit it, you fool.”

Doyoung glares. He misses the days when Sehun seemed cold and untouchable and only spoke to Sejeong. Who knew such a brooding exterior hid a goofy and infuriating kid underneath.

“Dude, isn’t it weird for you to be so involved with your best friend’s love life?” Doyoung points out defensively. “I don’t even ask my best friend anything unless he tells me, and we’ve literally been through thick and thin together.”

Sehun impassively lifts and lowers a shoulder. “I mean, I’m just trying to help out. Like I said, she doesn’t remember your name but she did say you’re cute. Of course I’d jump on this opportunity when my own love life doesn’t exist,” he explains.

Maybe it’s just because he’s been around Jaehyun for so long, but Doyoung is sure he hears a slight edge to Sehun’s voice behind the neutral tone when he mentioned his love life. A bad breakup, possibly, Doyoung guesses. Or perhaps an unrequited crush.

“Anyway,” Sehun shoves Doyoung’s shoulder. “You’d better step it up soon, kid. I know plenty of other guys and girls who like her too, so be grateful I’m even helping you of all people.”

Quietly, he adds, “Besides, if there’s anything I’ve learned about love and all that shit, it’s that it’s not good to hesitate too much.”

It suddenly occurs to Doyoung that Sehun is right. What is love if it’s not about taking risks? Would he rather live life safely, or spend the rest of his days not knowing whether the beautiful girl with the perfect smile would have said yes?

So he slowly stands up and approaches the counter, Sejeong busy making a drink.

You’re stupid, Doyoung chastises himself. You’re stupid and idiotic and dumb, and this is clearly a bad idea. Turn around right now before you do anything stupid, Kim Doyoung, because you’re gonna regret your decision. Don’t you even fucking dare think about—

Suddenly, Sejeong whirls around. “Oh, hi,” she grins. “You’re Doyoung, right? I was wondering when you’d come back.”

She has a beautiful smile—one that takes over every inch of face from her eyes like crescent moons to her exposed white teeth. Maybe the reason why her flowers are so vibrant is because her smile is the sun.

And Doyoung knows he’s a dead man.

Chapter Text

“Go talk to him.”

Taeyong jumps. “What?” He splutters.

Taeil rolls his eyes. “Go talk to the guy you’ve been staring at all night,” he replies dryly.”

“It hasn’t been all night,” Taeyong mumbles pathetically.

“Right,” Jungwoo teases with a shit-eating grin. The way he raises a brow over his beer bottle is entirely too sassy for Taeyong to deal with. “Hate to break it to you, hyung, but looking over every five seconds definitely counts as all night.”

Taeyong sneaks another glance over to the man sitting at the counter. He hasn’t stood up yet, but Taeyong can tell that he’s tall. The guy has fair skin even in the murky lights of the bar, while his hair is jet black and parted to the side. He has a face that should look gentle with it’s soft edges, but he looks so dark and moody. Judging by the way he’s downing straight vodka, Taeyong’s guessing he’s not very happy right now.

“He doesn’t look like he wants to be bothered,” Taeyong shakes his head.

“Trying won’t hurt,” Taeil points out. “Tae, just do it. Keep it simple, like offering to buy him a drink or asking to sit next to him. If he snaps, just come back. But you may as well give it a shot.”

Jungwoo nods in agreement. “He really is hot,” the youngest man sighs dreamily. “Not Xuxi hot, but pretty hot.”

Taeyong squirms nervously in his seat. “I don’t know…”

“Do it!” Taeil and Jungwoo bang their drinks down in unison.

Raising his hands in surrender, Taeyong cracks a smile and says, “Alright, I’ll give it a shot. But be prepared to buy me ice cream once I get rejected.”

Jaehyun drags Kun and Johnny into the kitchen. “Alright,” he snaps through gritted teeth. “Tell me everything from the beginning. Where the fuck did you find this guy?”

Johnny raises his hands up defensively. “Technically, he found us. We heard a knock on the door and thought it was you, but it turned out be Taeyong.”

Taeyong. So that’s his name. Jaehyun vaguely remembers hearing it once before in a drunken haze, but he must have buried that memory too deep in the ground.

“And you just let him in?”

“He said he just found the place accidentally” Kun cuts in, his expression stony and unreadable. “I didn’t get a lot of what he said, but the gist of it is that he doesn’t have anywhere to go. When Mark opened the door, he asked if Jaehyun had sent you, and something seemed to just light up on the guy’s face. I wasn’t sure if he actually knew you or not, but I guess you do.”

Jaehyun very seriously considers ripping his hair out. “Why the fuck is he here? Why does he remember me?” He mutters, pacing anxiously across the kitchen tiles.

“The better question is how does he even know you?” Kun points out dryly with an all too knowing look in his eye. “One night stand, I’m assuming? That’s the only way you ever meet people.”

“Shut up,” Jaehyun snaps. Right now, the last thing he needs to be reminded of is his previous encounter with the pretty man. “Hyung, if he stumbled upon us by chance, then how easy would it be for someone who’s actually looking for us?”

Immediately, his mind goes to the letter he’d burnt at some odd hour in the morning.

Kun drags a hand through his hair out of agitation. “Like hell if I know, Jae. That’s why I don’t know what to do.”

“Um,” Johnny cautiously raises a hand. “If you don’t mind me cutting in, I’d like to point out that I don’t think Taeyong’s a bad guy. Look at him—he’s not built like a fighter and when we found him he seemed pretty weak and innocent.”

“He could just be the world’s best actor,” Kun retorts.

As the two argue, Jaehyun closes his eyes and presses his fingers to his temple. Just when he thought life couldn’t get any worse, his one night stand from the day after The Worst Day just had to show up out of nowhere. Jaehyun wants nothing more than to kick Taeyong out, his wide eyes and fluffy pink hair to be damned. But he can’t. Because deep down, he knows that Taeyong is innocent.

Still, the question remains as to how Taeyong found him. Why did he find him? The universe must be laughing at Jaehyun right now, wondering how much more they could throw at him.

“Let’s hear him out,” Jaehyun says, silencing Kun and Johnny.

The two peer at him with shock all over their faces. “You sure?” Johnny asks slowly, eyeing Jaehyun warily.

No. “Whatever.”

(A list of people in Jaehyun's life who could see right through him:

1. Qian Kun

2. Johnny Seo)

“Hi,” Taeyong breathes.

The man’s gaze flickers over to him briefly before returning to his drink.

Definitely mad, Taeyong internally grimaces.

Still, he’d like to believe he’s a brave man, so he persists. “Can I, uh, buy you a drink?”

“I’m sorry,” the man interrupts, eyes still not leaving his glass. “But it’s not a good time right now.”

“Oh,” Taeyong wilts. “Oh. I see.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he says, “Then can I sit here?”

The man shrugs, but Taeyong sees the way his shoulders stiffen. Still, he didn’t explicitly say no, so Taeyong will take that as a hopeful sign.

After several minutes of silence, Taeyong peeks over at the man again. Now that he’s up close, the guy doesn’t look quite so stormy. He just looks sad, like he’s lost something he can’t get back.

There’s some kind of poetic beauty to his face. Soft yet angled with sorrow, pale like snow and just as frigid. Taeyong pushes down the urge to sketch his face right there and then, but who else in this world could look as beautiful?

Feeling a sudden surge of confidence, Taeyong asks, “What’s your name?”

Again, the man briefly side-eyes him before looking away. “Jaehyun,” he murmurs quietly.

Jaehyun. Not quite what Taeyong expected, but he likes it. “I’m Taeyong,” he smiles.

Jaehyun nods. “That’s great,” he mumbles.

Another wave of bravery hitting him, Taeyong scoots the slightest bit closer. “So what are you upset about?”

That was clearly the wrong thing to say, because the next thing he knows, Jaehyun’s facing him with a full glare. “Nosy, aren’t you?” Jaehyun snaps.

He’s clearly trying to sound angry, but the malice in his voice is watered down by weariness. A broken man, Taeyong realizes.

Now feeling guilty for bothering Jaehyun, Taeyong awkwardly clears his throat and moves to get up. “I’m sorry,” he bows his head. “I won’t bother you anymore.”

When he lifts his head, Jaehyun’s staring right at him, eyes no longer upset. Still broken, definitely, but less weary and more alive. Like he sees some possibility that’s never been there before.

“You offered me a drink?” Jaehyun asks quietly, already averting his gaze back to the counter. “You gonna follow through with that?”

Without warning, Jaehyun slams his gun down on the coffee table. Cruel satisfaction courses through his veins when Taeyong jumps, flinching at the harsh sound.

You don’t belong here, so get the hell out as fast as you can, Jaehyun thinks wryly.

“Alright,” he drawls. “You’re going to explain exactly who you are and how you found us, and after that I’ll decide what to do with you.”

Taeyong blinks. “Decide what to do with me?” He repeats slowly.

Jaehyun’s glare is answer enough.

“Okay,” Taeyong flinches again, posture sagging as he recoils. “Um. My name is Lee Taeyong. I’m twenty-seven years old I, uh, am an artist, but that hasn’t been going so well recently.”

“I…” he trails off, eyes nervously flickering over to Jaehyun, who remains stone-faced. “I came here by accident, I promise. I don’t have a home right now, so I’ve been camping out wherever I can.”

“I swear I found this place by accident!” Taeyong insists. “I camped out around here last night, and when I woke up I heard a lot of noise coming from over here. And, well, I guess here I am now.”

Yuta lifts a brow. “But how do you know Jae?”

Quick as lightning, Sicheng elbows him in the ribs, hissing something in Mandarin along the lines of dumbass. Yuta doubles over in pain, but not his mouth falls open in realization.

“Oh,” he coughs, clutching his chest. “I see. I see.”

Mark tilts his head. “What’s up?”

“Never you mind,” Ten frantically ruffles the teenager’s hair. “They’re just school friends, that’s all.”

“Jaehyun-hyung never went to school,” Mark deadpans.

Ten throws his hands up. “It’s a euphemism, you fetus!”

“Okay,” Kun interrupts with a meaningful look. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s get back the the point. Is Taeyong-hyung staying?”

“Absolutely not,” Jaehyun says. “I’ll allow it for one night, but he’d better be out by tomorrow.”

Taeyong opens his mouth to respond, but Jaehyun isn’t having nay of it. “For your own safe, you’d better go,” he states firmly, glowering at the pretty man.

“Jae,” Yuta places a tentative hand on Jaehyun’s shoulder, which the latter immediately shakes off. “Jae, he said he has nowhere else to go, and clearly he’s not a threat.”

“How can you be sure?” Jaehyun snaps. “Anyone can say anything, and lying isn’t that hard.”

Meekly, Taeyong raises an arm. “I promise I won’t cause any trouble,” he mumbles.

“And I don’t trust people,” Jaehyun replies without even looking at him. I don’t hate you. I just can’t let you get involved. Believe me.

Normally, Jaehyun wouldn’t care if he were being a dick. After all the shit he’s gone through in his twenty-five years, he thinks he’s allowed to be the opposite of nice. But he can’t drag this innocent person into the shitshow he calls his life. Taeyong should go back to his own world and not get caught up any further in this bloody hell of gunshots and murder.

“Hate to say this, but I actually agree with Jaehyun,” Johnny speaks up. “We barely have enough room to sleep, and the couch is already taken up by Mark. Finding a long term solution would be difficult. Unless…” he trails off, an uneasy look on his face.

Jaehyun already knows where he’s going with this. “No,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “That’s not happening.”

“Jae, it’s an open bed,” Johnny sighs in exasperation, already knowing he’s lost the battle.

Kun, however, has considerably less regard for his life as he says, “Just give him the damn bed, Jae. No one’s using it.”

Jaehyun’s jaw locks. “That’s not the point.”

“Then what is, Jaehyun?” Kun pushes on, his expression stony and determined. He doesn’t so much care about Taeyong’s well-being as he does getting to the bottom of whatever’s wrong with with Jaehyun. “Doyoung doesn’t need a bed anymore, and we have someone who does. What’s the worst that’s gonna happen if—“

“Because then it becomes real!”

The whole room falls silent. Ten, Yuta, and Sicheng exchange nervous glances while Mark’s eyes widen to the size of plates. Johnny bites his lip. Kun merely looks sorrowful.

Taeyong keeps quiet, but Jaehyun can see the curiosity in his doe-like eyes. Genuine curiosity and concern—exactly like that night at the bar.

He doesn’t even realize his fingers have curled into fists he feels blood under his nails and a slight stinging in his palms. With a long sigh, Jaehyun relaxes his hands and locks eyes with Taeyong, who jumps when he realizes he’s the object of Jaehyun’s attention.

“Room with Kun-hyung tonight,” Jaehyun says quietly. “I’ll figure the rest out tomorrow.”

Taeyong yelps when his back collides with the wall of his apartment. “Ow,” he whimpers, both at the pain in his back and the feeling of Jaehyun’s teeth on his neck.

“Sorry,” the taller man mutters, squeezing Taeyong’s waist even harder.

Jaehyun’s rough, and everywhere he touches Taeyong leaves a burning pain. But Taeyong would be a liar if he said he didn’t enjoy it. He likes the feeling of having someone lose control over him, like he’s needed.

Calloused fingers sneak up under his shirt, pushing the fabric higher and higher until it’s gone. Taeyong responds by doing the same to Jaehyun’s shirt, marveling  at the toned chest in front of him. Everything about Jaehyun makes him feel small and delicate like a paper doll.

When Taeyong’s frame painfully hits the wall again, remorse flashes across Jaehyun’s face. “C’mon,” he murmurs against Taeyong’s jaw. “Where’s the bedroom?”

Jaehyun can’t sleep.

It’s nothing new, but this time he’s got a lot more thoughts running through his head. Somehow, the memories of Doyoung’s death are pushed all the way to the back while other, more current issues take center stage.

Why did LSM say Yang had debt, when clearly the debt had all been paid off? What would happen to all the boys in the school when their innocent headmaster was found dead?

Why did Taeyong have to find him again?

Sighing, Jaehyun rolls onto his side and stares at the empty other half of the room. Despite his occupation, Jaehyun’s a rational man. He doesn’t do anything without clearly planning out the steps beforehand. When he killed his father, he only did so after years of careful thinking. When Johnny and Ten first showed up, Jaehyun let them in but observed them for months before deciding they were trustworthy.

And when Doyoung died, he knew from the start that nothing would change that. Dead people don’t just come back, no matter how much Jaehyun wishes his best friend could. Keeping Doyoung’s side of the room untouched didn’t bring him back, and it certainly didn’t fool Jaehyun into thinking his former roommate were there. He was living in denial but couldn’t bring himself to care, because this pathetic, desperate attempt to cling to the past helped ease the pain.

Just as he thinks he’s finally dozing off, the sound of the door creaking open and light spilling into the room jolts him back awake. Jaehyun throws the covers off his head, snaps, “Why the hell are you coming in without knocking first?”

Then he sees Taeyong, clad in an oversized shirt and clutching his chest in shock. Judging by the terrified and surprised expression in his eyes, the guy must’ve come in by mistake. Jaehyun regrets the yelling, but only slightly.

“I’m sorry,” Taeyong apologizes hastily. “Mark’s brushing his teeth in the bathroom downstairs and he said there was one upstairs, but I didn’t know which door it’d be so I just chose one at random. I’m sorry for being so careless.”

Jaehyun can feel the beginnings of yet another headache at his temples. Suppressing a sigh, he waves a hand at Taeyong and says, “It’s fine. I guess I’m sorry for snapping at you. I just can’t sleep, and I’m an ass when that happens.”

“More of an ass than usual?” Taeyong says mischeivously, then immediately clamps his hands over his mouth. “I wasn’t supposed to say that out loud,” he mumbles, voice muffled through his fingers.

If it were Doyoung or Johnny or Kun making that comment, Jaehyun would’ve rolled his eyes and made a sarcastic comment in return. But this is soft, pure Taeyong who doesn’t belong in this world, and Jaehyun doesn’t have the strength to snark him.

“It’s alright,” he replies. “I know I’m a shitty person.”

Taeyong blushes faintly, rocking back and forth on his heels. This would be the appropriate point in time for him to retreat and find the bathroom, but then he does something unexpected. He comes closer.

“You said you can’t sleep?” Taeyong asks quietly. “What’s wrong? Is something bothering you?”

You, actually, among other things.

“It’s nothing,” Jaehyun shrugs as neutrally as possible. “My job is stressful, and I’ve always been an insomniac.”

Taeyong frowns. He looks cute when he does that, like a puppy who isn’t receiving enough attention from its owner. “Johnny-ssi and Kun-ssi don’t seem to buy your bullshit, and I don’t either,” Taeyong declares, lifting his chin.

It suddenly strikes Jaehyun that maybe Taeyong isn’t so innocent after all. He’s shy and awkward and fragile-looking, but he’s certainly blunt. Jaehyun thinks back to the night after Doyoung died, when Taeyong approached him first and tries again after Jaehyun initially rejected him. And he only found them again because he sought Jaehyun out first. Taeyong is brave, which makes him a fool. And Jaehyun doesn’t have the patience for that.

“Yeah?” His lips curl up in a snarl. “You think you know me so well, huh? Tell me something, then.”

Taeyong swallows, fingers tightening around the hem of his large shirt. “You’re obviously sad about something. And judging by the way there’s an empty bed right there,” he jerks his chin over to Doyoung’s side of the room, “I’m guessing it has to do with whoever used to sleep there, right? Someone so important you won’t let anyone touch his stuff, because you’re too afraid of what that means? Is that why you were so sad that time at the bar? Why you seemed so angry and then left so quickly?”

“And,” he continues before Jaehyun can speak up. “You’ve probably had some kind of childhood trauma, because you’re literally the poster child for someone with daddy issues. So tell me, how accurate was that?”

Without warning, Jaehyun blindly grabs at the first object his hands find and hurls it at Taeyong’s head. The short man manages to duck just in time, eyes widening in terror as he takes in the heavy watch that now lay in pieces after hitting the wall.

Jaehyun bares his teeth in a growl. “Congratulations, Lee Taeyong,” he hisses. “You’re pretty perceptive for a pathetic virgin I fucked out of pity. If you followed me here expecting more of that, I’d suggest you whore yourself out to someone else.”

Taeyong blanches. “That…” he trails off, blinking away tears. “Was really unnecessary, Jaehyun.”

The way Taeyong’s voice wobbles when he speaks just fuels Jaehyun on even more. “If you think I’m that cruel, then you’re welcome to get the hell out,” he states firmly. “Otherwise, get used to it.”

Silently, Taeyong bends down to pick up the fragments of the shattered watch. Shakily, he approaches Jaehyun and places the pieces on the bedside table. “I,” he pauses. “I hope you realize you’re mostly being cruel to yourself.”

He walks out without another word, leaving Jaehyun to stare at the remains of his father’s watch.

(The abridged series of events of the story behind the watch:

1. Jaehyun's father struck him across the face.

2.  Jaehyun's father locked his fingers around his throat.

3. Jaehyun's father kicked him down to the cold tiles.

4. Jaehyun's father loved that watch more than he loved his own son.

5. The day after his eighteenth birthday, Jaehyun shot his father in the head. He shot the watch too for good measure, then kept it as a souvenir.)

The next morning, Kun grabs Jaehyun’s wrist just as the latter’s about to walk out the door. “So,” Kun flashes a fake smile. “Are you ready to explain yourself, or will you just run away again like you always do?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jaehyun responds emotionlessly. It’s way too fucking early in the morning for him to care, and naturally he didn’t sleep at all the night before.

“Jung Jaehyun,” Kun sighs heavily. He has, Jaehyun muses, a kind-looking face.  Youthful—so much so that he kind of looks younger than Sicheng. Too bad he’s also a stubborn bitch.

“Look,” he sighs again. “I’m not your enemy, Jaehyun. Despite what you may think, I’m your friend. I want you to be happy—don’t give me that look, Jae. I’m being completely serious.”

“So when this random guy shows up out of nowhere—a guy you’ve clearly fucked—and you’re showing this extreme adverse reaction, and the fact that I very clearly heard you and said guy shouting at each other last night, it all makes me worry.”

For the first time in a while, guilt strikes Jaehyun in the heart. “You don’t have to worry about me,” he mutters, lowering his head to evade Kun’s knowing stare.

“You know why I worry about you so much?” Kun remarks. He crosses his arms, says, “It’s not just because of Taeyong-ssi. It’s about you still not being over Doyoung—which is completely understandable—but being unable to accept  that you can’t move on. And I know you’ve heard this a thousand times already from the others, but I’m telling you for the last time that you need to get help.”

The headache creeps back. “I know,” Jaehyun says. “I know.”

The problem is, he doesn’t know where to start.

Exhaling, he says, “Tell Taeyong-hyung he can stay for as long as he needs. And that I’m sorry.”

“Sure,” Kun replies warily. “I’ll tell him he can stay, but you’ll have to apologize for yourself.”

“And Jaehyun,” he adds just as Jaehyun’s stepped one foot outside the door. “Don’t bottle things up, okay? You’ll just end up like me.”

(The Curious Case of Qian Kun:

1. His family hails from Fujian, China.

2. He flips very easily from doting mother to sarcastic smartass to begging-to-be-punched-in-the-face motherfucker.

3. He fled China at the age of twenty-two. Why? No clue. He never said.

4. Since arriving in Korea, he’s put down the gun. He doesn’t even like looking at the things anymore, which sucks for him considering everyone in the house carries at least two at all times.

5. He has an especially soft spot for Sicheng, affectionately nicknaming him “Winwin”.

6. He does not take any shit from anyone, especially not Jaehyun.

7. When he first showed up at the house, he could only say one word to explain why he was there.

8. That word was “Beijing”.)

“Back already?”

“It would appear so,” Jaehyun replies tiredly, practically slumping against the counter. “Black coffee, please?”

Sehun merely nods in response, humming some tune to himself as he rings up the order and starts making the drink. Business at Star Blossom is slow today, with only a handful of college kids sitting with their noses buried in textbooks or laptops. With his messy hair, dark eye bags, and constant feeling of being dead to the world, Jaehyun thinks he fits right in with the students.

“Here,” Sehun says, placing a hot cup in front of Jaehyun. “As black as can be.”

Jaehyun lets out some unintelligible noise of appreciation, slumping even further down on the counter. “Thanks.”

Sehun eyes him strangely. “Dude,” he says. “You look like you’ve just been steamrolled by a truck. Twice.”

“Are you allowed to talk to your customers like that?” Jaehyun retorts dryly, not even caring about the comment at all. It’s actually kind of funny, now that he thinks about it, because that’s honestly how he feels.

“Technically I don’t work here,” Sehun shrugs. “I’m just a kind best friend who dropped my own job for a few months so I could help out. I can say whatever I want, but she can’t fire me even if she hates me because she loves me too much. Win-win situation.”

Jaehyun can’t help but crack a smile. “Sounds like you’re a great best friend,” he chuckles.

“The fucking best,” Sehun deadpans.

Just then, the ringing of the door bells signal the entrance of another customer. Sehun hurries back to the register to tend to them while Jaehyun presses his temple against the hot cup and closes his eyes. It’s strange and perhaps a little twisted, but for some reason, the fact that this is a place Doyoung frequented makes Jaehyun feel at peace. Like he can finally sleep again.

He can’t even look at Doyoung’s side of the room without hearing the screams, and the house they used to live in only brings back worse memories. But here, at this pretty little café with flowers on every table, Jaehyun can breathe.

But even when he doesn’t hear the screams, his mind still wanders too much.

Who is LSM?

Why was Yang killed?

What happened in Beijing?

Why did Taeyong want to find him?

“So,” Sehun’s voice breaks Jaehyun out of his reverie. “Why do you look like you’ve been streamrolled, anyway? You looked pretty bad yesterday, too, but not this bad.”

Jaehyun decides that he rather likes Sehun after all. “You’re awfully nosy for someone I met yesterday,” he remarks. Then, after a moment’s pause, he continues, says, “There’s just been a lot going on these days, and I feel lost because someone who used to always be there is gone now.”

He surprises himself with how much he revealed. Jaehyun wasn’t stupid; he knew he needed help, but he’d never known how to do so. But telling this stranger about the basics felt therapeutic, even though he knew it wouldn’t be enough in the long run.

Still, it’s a start.

“Gone, you say?” Sehun muses. “How so?”

“He…” Jaehyun trails off, trying to come up with a way to explain Doyoung without Sehun immediately calling the cops. “He left, and it’s my fault. And I beat myself up for it every day.”

Sehun hums as he taps his fingers against the countertop. “Boyfriend?”

Jaehyun laughs weakly. “Hell no. Pretty much brothers,” he corrects, thinking of all the times he and Doyoung had been mistaken for boyfriends.

“So what’d you do to drive him away?” Sehun quirks up a brow.

Where do I even begin? “First it was a lapse in judgment, and then it was an accident,” he says. “Then the next thing I knew, he was gone.”

Sehun goes quiet. There’s still something about him that Jaehyun can’t quite pinpoint. He seemed quiet and gruff at first, but then he seemed more outgoing and somewhat childish. Now, he’s just solemnly studying the countertop after he’d succeeded in getting Jaehyun to spill his story.

It’s like Sehun knows something he doesn’t.

“I had a fiancé” Sehun says quietly, tracing lines on the wooden surface. “Then I lost him. So I guess I don’t know exactly what happened to you, but I get how you feel.”

Only then does Jaehyun notice the silver band on Sehun’s left fourth finger as he traces lines—no, not lines. Characters. A name.

And suddenly, everything feels too overwhelming and too fast and Jaehyun. Can’t. Breathe. His fingers itch to grab a cigarette or a gun or a knife or whatever they had can find, but his pockets are empty and he has nothing but a letter with his name and a broken watch hidden underneath his bed.

So he grips the first thing he can reach, and maybe he holds on too hard because the next thing he knows, the coffee cup caves in and hot liquid spills over his bare hand.

“Jesus!” Sehun jumps up in shock. “Oh shit, let me help you with that.”

He sprints back to the register and pulls out a roll of paper towels, which he throws unceremoniously at Jaehyun before dashing to the kitchen and returning with a bag of ice and a first aid kit. “What the hell happened? Are you alright?” Sehun demands as he simultaneously wipes up the coffee and Jaehyun’s burnt hand.

Jaehyun opens his mouth to speak, but his lungs have no air.

“Okay, okay,” Sehun sighs. He does the rest of the job in silence, meticulously wrapping Jaehyun’s hand in a bandage and pressing the ice pack down on it. “You may want to go to a hospital, but I don’t think the burn is that bad. Just ice and wrap it, okay?”

“Yeah,” Jaehyun chokes out.

Sehun shoots him one last concerned glance before sighing and patting him on the shoulder. “I think you should go home, man. You need some sleep.”

At last, the weight on his chest disappears and Jaehyun can breathe again. “Sleep is the least of my worries,” he jokes.

“No shit,” Sehun replies grimly.

The second Kun sees it, he’s onto him like a wolf. “What the fuck have you done?” He glares. “You go out unsupervised for an hour, and then you come back with a burnt hand? What the fuck, Jae?”

Jaehyun waves it off. “I know, I know. But can I talk to Taeyong?”

Kun raises an unimpressed brow. Still, he opens his bedroom door all the way and gestures for him to come in. “Go ahead. I’ll leave you two alone, but I expect a full explanation by dinner.”

Because he never had another roommate, Kun has the smallest room. There’s barely enough room for the single bed, a dresser, and a closet, but a pile of blankets are folded neatly on the floor. Jaehyun guesses that Kun did the noble act of giving up his bed for Taeyong and choosing to sleep on the floor. Which is most definitely what happened, since Taeyong is currently perched on the bed and staring at him with wide eyes.

“Jaehyun?” He blinks in surprise.

Awkwardly, Jaehyun leans against Kun’s dresser and tries for a smile, but it most likely comes out as a grimace instead. “Hey,” he greets. “Kun told you the news?”

“Yeah,” Taeyong nods slowly. His gaze drops down to the tan bandage wrapped around Jaehyun’s hand. “What happened? Are you hurt?” He yelps, immediately reaching out to inspect the damage.

Reflexively, Jaehyun jerks his arm away. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “I’m not used to people touching me.”

“Oh,” Taeyong just nods. “Oh.”

The tension in the air is so thick Jaehyun almost can’t breathe again. “Look,” he speaks up. “We didn’t start off right, and I’m sorry about last night. If I’ve scared you or made you feel hurt, that’s all my fault.”

“Things haven’t been going well recently,” Jaehyun admits. “It’s like…it’s like all this shit is being thrown at me and I don’t have time to make sense of any of it. I lost someone who meant a lot to me, and even before that happened my life’s always been pretty fucked.”

“I’m not a great person. In all honesty, I’m a piece of shit. But I don’t want it to affect the people in my life, so I’m trying to make them not worry. Evidently I’ve been doing a shit job of that, too, but I’m trying.”

“So, yeah. I’m sorry for the things I said last night. I’m sorry for being cruel—both the first time we met and yesterday. I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“If you want to leave, you can. But you’re welcome to stay, too. And if you do, I’d like to start over. So forget that time at the bar and everything I did yesterday. Just pretend it never happened.”

Taeyong tilts his head. Not for the first time, Jaehyun marvels at how large and pure his eyes are—childlike in their innocence, but very much mature in their solemnity.

“Okay,” Taeyong says. A small, mischievous smile plays at his lips as he says, “But before we forget about it, I just wanted to say that it was a good night. Minus the angst, of course. I had a good time.”

Jaehyun’s breath hitches in his throat. “Yeah?”

Taeyong reaches for his hand again, and this time Jaehyun lets him run his fingers over the coarse bandage. “Yeah,” Taeyong affirms.

Jaehyun can’t breathe.

“So then what happened?”

“Nothing, hyung. He was gone when I woke up, and I couldn’t find a note or anything. I guess that was it.”

“Damn. That’s rough.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not upset, are you?”

“I mean, a little. But it’s understandable. He seemed pretty upset about it last night, so I think I was just a…temporary distraction. But it’s all good, I swear.”

“Taeyong…”

“What, hyung?”

“You sure you weren’t just using him as a distraction, too?”

“Hyung…”

“I’m serious. Have you even finished packing everything yet?”

“It’s not like I have a lot to pack, anyway.”

“Yong. You know you could always stay with me after you’re evicted.”

“I’ll be fine, Taeil-hyung. I’ll find a way to make things work.”

“If you say so. Just remember that you’ve got me if anything goes wrong. And don’t mope over this boy for too long—I know you’re moping, Lee Taeyong. You probably won’t ever see him again, anyway, so take it as a good sign.”

“Sure, sure.”

(What Taeil didn’t and still doesn't know:

1. That was not the last time Taeyong saw Jaehyun.

2. Or the first.)

Chapter Text

One morning a few weeks later, Jaehyun gets up bright and early—or, more accurately, he stared at the ceiling for hours before giving up and deciding sleep wasn’t going to happen—and heads for the bathroom. As usual, he feels like shit, and instead of killing his lungs even more he thinks maybe a shower would help him feel better.

Wearily, he strips off his shirt and throws it on the floor. He’s about to slide his pants off too when suddenly, the shower curtain flies open.

“Fuck!” Jaehyun shouts, jumping a foot in the air.

Ten waves from his seat in the bathtub. “Morning, Jae. I like your pecs.”

This, Jaehyun decides, is too much bullshit for six in the morning. “What the fuck are you doing? How long have you just been sitting here like a creep?”

“My husband,” Ten sighs with a shake of his head. “Was being stubborn last night. So I took matters into my own hands and left.”

“‘Stubborn’?” Jaehyun repeats incredulously.

Dramatically, Ten stands up and steps out of the tub. “Nothing you need to worried about. Married couple business is too much for your single ass to understand.” He reaches out and pokes Jaehyun’s bare chest. “Damn, these pecs are really nice. Johnny could never.”

Very slowly, Jaehyun closes his eyes and counts to five. Don’t get him wrong, he likes Ten a lot, but Ten’s bright and outgoing personality doesn’t always go well with Jaehyun’s gloomier countenance. Sometimes it can pick him up and make him feel better, but right now, when Jaehyun is, as per usual, dead to the world, he can’t deal with this kind of bullshit.

Then again, it’s Ten. This kind of bullshit is considered normal.

“So,” Ten gives Jaehyun’s chest one last appreciative poke. “What’s up with you these days? I know you don’t respect me as much as you respect Johnny or Kun, but you can tell me anything. I won’t snitch.”

Jaehyun blinks. “That…” he trails off, “is really nice of you, hyung.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ten flicks his wrist dismissively. “I know, I’m a fucking saint. So come on, Jae. Spill. My idiot husband won’t hear a thing.”

Slowly, Jaehyun turns his back on Ten and locks eyes with his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He’s never quite been built broad, but also not narrow. Pale scars litter his torso and chest—knives and bullets both—and there’s an invisible handprint on his neck from the time his father picked him up by the throat and threw him against a desk. He’s always had persisting baby fat rounding out the edges of his face, but these days he’s all sharp corners.

What happened to me, he wonders as he stares into his haunted eyes.

You did, his reflection speaks back.

And Jaehyun doesn’t want to live like this anymore. He can’t. He wants to be better—he wants it so, so badly.

So he clears his throat and, with only a little hesitation, says, “There’s something I need you to do.”

(One and a half years prior:

“I don’t trust them,” Jaehyun hisses the moment the door to their shared room closes, blocking out any wandering ears.

Doyoung rolls his eyes. “You think I do, either?”

“Nope,” Jaehyun reflexively grips the gun at his belt. “So remind me again why we just let them in?”

“Because Kun seems to trust them?”

“And why does Kun get to make all the decisions around here?”

“Because we’re both afraid of him?”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t fucking lie to yourself, Jae.”

“Shut up, Dons.”

“Anyway,” Jaehyun groans, slumping over on his bed. “Whatever Kun thinks, he’s wrong. I don’t trust them at all. The shorter one obviously isn’t a hitman—he keeps eyeing me nervously and twitching whenever he sees a weapon. I don’t know about the other, but this doesn’t feel right. Their story sounds like complete bullshit”

“It does,” Doyoung agrees. Gingerly, he takes a seat next to Jaehyun and half-heartedly pats his best friend’s back. “But that’s exactly why I’m trusting Kun on this. He knows what he’s doing.”

“So do we,” Jaehyun retorts, but he can’t even force any bite into his voice when he knows Doyoung’s right.

The two of them have been through hell and back, but Kun’s gone through worse. At least, they think he has. To this day, Kun still hasn’t opened up much about his life in China. To be so adamantly tight-lipped about whatever happened that made him run—“Beijing”, as he always says—but also so fearless as Kun…something wicked must have occurred, indeed.

Doyoung sighs sympathetically. “Yeah, I know. But if Kun can find a reason to trust them, I think it’s worth giving Johnny and Ten a shot.”

“Plus,” he adds, voice lilting with amusement. “If you decide you don’t trust them after all, we could always slit their throats in their sleep.”)

As it turns out, Ten’s not the only one to see him half naked that day.

Just as he’s finished toweling off and pulled his running pants on, the door to the bathroom opens. Jaehyun’s facing away from it, but he has a feeling he knows just who the intruder is.

No one else would squeak upon seeing him shirtless, after all.

“I’m sorry,” Taeyong (cutely) pokes his head back inside. “I should’ve realized you were in here because the door was closed. I won’t do this again, I promise I’ll be more careful next time.”

Jaehyun ducks his head down to hide his barely-there smile. “Don’t worry,” he says. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Right,” Taeyong flushes, opening the door all the way. Even after living at the house for a few weeks, he still seems shy around Jaehyun. “Right. We’re all just a bunch of bros here. Right.”

“Not really,” Jaehyun muses. “In case you haven’t realized, there’s two couples in this house.”

Taeyong blinks. “Oh. Right.”

Briefly, Jaehyun makes eye contact with the newest addition. Taeyong really does have large eyes. He could probably pass for mixed with eyes like that.

Taeyong takes a step forward. “You have a tattoo?” He asks, gesturing to the black ink on Jaehyun’s rib cage.

A fist squeezes at Jaehyun’s heart, drawing droplets of blood.

Don’t.

In one swift motion, he plucks his shirt from the counter and pulls it on, covering his inked skin. “From ages away,” he smiles stiffly. “I should’ve gotten rid of it years ago, but it’s hard to find time.”

“To find motivation, you mean?” Taeyong comments quietly, observing Jaehyun with those round eyes.

It leaves a bitter taste in Jaehyun’s mouth when this man who only entered his life a few weeks ago can already see right through him. “Right,” he mutters. “Right.”

Taeyong looks like he wants to say more, but then someone clears his throat.

“If you’re not too busy flirting,” Yuta drawls, “I’d like to take a piss, please.”

While Taeyong blushes at the word “flirting”, Jaehyun takes that opportunity to book it right out of there.

(The story of the tattoo:

It was perhaps one of the biggest mistakes of his life.)

Above all things, there are three basic necessities Jaehyun requires in order to make his life somewhat tolerable. This first is coffee, because, as a gloomy, twisted, angry, insomniac hitman, Jaehyun needs coffee to function like a normal human. The second necessity is someone normal enough to make him feel calm and just a little normal. That someone used to be Doyoung, but obviously he can’t be here right now. Among the squad members, Jaehyun supposes he’s closest to Kun, but Kun is too much of a snarky smartass to be normal. So instead, Jaehyun settles for not-actual-barista-just-a-kind-best-friend Sehun, whom he met less than a month ago. But Jaehyun’s always been good at settling for whatever he can get, so Sehun will have to do.

The third need is privacy. This is perhaps the most essential of all things, as Jaehyun is someone who gets extreme mood swings and more often than not, he’s not happy. And when he’s not happy, he’s too afraid to be around people because he’s not sure what he could do to them. He doesn’t care if Ten and Taeyong ogle his bare chest, but there’s one specific boundary no one’s allowed to cross: Jaehyun’s room. The door is closed at all times, and even if Jaehyun’s in there’s no guarantee he’ll answer. One of the first rules of the house is to never open Jaehyun’s door without verbal confirmation first, and no one dares break it.

Well, no one except Mark, that is. It’s not like Jaehyun ever protests to him, anyway.

“I believe you have a very comfortable couch downstairs,” Jaehyun remarks with no real acidity to his voice.

Mark lazily waves a hand from where he’s taking a catnap on top of Jaehyun’s covers. “Johnny-hyung woke me up because he was banging pots and pans together, but I was too tired to join him. So I came up here to get some sleep,” he explains through a yawn.

“I see,” Jaehyun chuckles. “Be glad you’re my favorite, Mark Lee. Otherwise I would’ve sent your ass down the well and left you there to rot.”

“No offense, hyung, but I think I can take you on in a fight.”

“Sure. Tell me when you’re done with puberty first, though.

“I’m nineteen!”

“And I’m twenty-five,” Jaehyun retorts back with a smirk. “I’ve got six years of wisdom you’ll never catch up on.”

Mark pouts, which only spurs Jaehyun on even more. “Do most nineteen year olds pout like that? You look about three,” he teases.

“Hey!” Mark swipes out at Jaehyun’s leg with the back of his hand, barely grazing the fabric of his pants. “You know how much it sucks to live with a bunch of old men? Y’all are so out of touch you don’t even know what memes are!”

“Mmhmm,” Jaehyun flicks Mark’s forehead. “And you’re so young you don’t know how to respect your elders.”

Mark breaks out into a wide smile. “You don’t deserve any respect, Jaehyun,” he sticks his tongue out.

Rolling his eyes in amusement, Jaehyun merely flicks Mark’s forehead again. “Go ask Kun to pour you a glass of milk, you fucking fetus.”

Even through the haze of darkness and uncertainty surrounding their lives, Mark remains one of the few bright spots. He’s been through too much for his young age, but somehow he’s still cheerful. Jaehyun knows about the nightmares, but he also knows that Mark has been handling them a lot better than Jaehyun ever could. Mark is young but strong, and he’s come out unscathed for the most part.

If there’s one thing in the world Jaehyun wishes for, it’s Mark’s happiness. Even if he were offered Doyoung back, Jaehyun knows he would choose Mark.

(A slight confession:

At least, he thinks he would choose Mark.)

(Two years prior:

Gently, Kun drapes a blanket over the shivering teenager’s shoulders. “It’s alright,” he coos, leaving Sassy Kun and entering Mother Kun. “Shh, it’s alright. Tell us what happened.”

The boy takes in a deep breath. The mug of tea in front of him has long gone cold, and he hasn’t moved an inch since he sat down. Jaehyun found him outside not fifteen minutes ago, clinging to edge of the well and begging for help. The terror in the young boy’s eyes was all it took for Jaehyun to cradle the kid in his arms with a gentleness he didn’t even know he possessed and take him inside.

“Your name would be good place to start,” Sicheng suggests.

The teenager swallows, nods, and says, “Okay. My name is Lee Minhyung.”

“How old are you, Minhyung?” Kun continues, rubbing his back in encouragement.

“Just turned seventeen,” Minhyung responds. Then he pauses. “At least, I think my birthday’s in August. I don’t know if it’s my real one or if they gave me a fake.”

Jaehyun frowns. “A fake?” He repeats slowly. “What does that mean?”

And like that, the dam keeping in all of Minhyung’s emotions breaks. “I’m originally from Canada,” he rushes through his words like he’s eager to leave them behind and never speak them again. “Then when I was four, my whole family got killed during the night. This man came over to me and told me he would take care of me, and then he must’ve chloroformed me or something because I woke up in Korea. He took me to some academy with a bunch of other kids my age, and we were trained to fight since that day. I only managed to escape three days ago because my friends and I figured out an escape route, but I don’t know if he’s still after me or not.”

“Hold on,” Doyoung holds a hand up. “You said you and your friends figured out an escape? Do you know where they are right now?”

Minhyung lowers his head. “Renjun was the first. Then Yerim and Jeno at the same time. Donghyuck almost made it, but he pushed me out and closed the grate back over his head to give me time.”

The room falls silent.

Distantly, Jaehyun registers the feeling of nails digging into his arms, and then he realizes that he’s gripping himself so hard he’s starting to draw blood. This, he thinks, is not fair. This is not fucking fair.

“We’ve been plotting this breakout for three years now,” Minhyung whispers hoarsely. “They were always smarter than me, and I thought they’d make it. I didn’t expect to watch them die.”

Jaehyun. Can’t. Breathe.

“I’m sorry about your friends,” Kun says gently, continuing his ministrations of rubbing the teenager’s back. “I wish they’d made it, too. But what’s important is that you’re alive. You’re going to be alright, Minhyung.”

Minhyung suddenly jerks his head up. “Oh,” he starts, then hesitates for what feels the tenth time in two minutes. “That’s not my name. I mean, they gave that name to me when I woke up, but I know that’s not my name. I remember what my parents used to call me.”

Jaehyun feels Doyoung’s sharp eyes sneak a glance at him. Doyoung’s concerned, and he has good reason to be. Jaehyun already has a hard enough time dealing with his own demons, but now that there’s someone who’s gone through such similar trials? Doyoung doesn’t know if or how Jaehyun will handle it.

“What’s your real name, then?” Jaehyun asks quietly.

The boy carves lines with his nails into the wooden surface of the table. “My name,” he says, “is Mark.”)

“Well, well, well,” Yuta announces loudly. He flops onto the couch next to Jaehyun, throwing an arm around his shoulder for good measure. “So that’s why you let him stay, huh?”

“Fuck off,” is all Jaehyun says in response, not even lifting his gaze away from his book.

Sicheng, who’d been sitting on the armchair while using his phone, perks up in interest. “What’s going on?” He wonders, raising a brow at his boyfriend.

Yuta blows him a kiss, to which the more down to earth—tsundere, as Yuta affectionately calls him—member of the relationship rolls his eyes. “Jaehyun here has a thing with our newcomer,” Yuta grins.

“No way,” Sicheng’s jaw drops. “I mean, we all know how you two met, but seriously? I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Excuse me?” Jaehyun snaps his book shut. “Have you been gossiping about me?”

“Nah. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out you and Taeyong fucked.”

Sicheng sighs. “Don’t be so crude all the time, Yuta.”

Jaehyun already knows he’ll get a headache from this. In that case, he figures, he may as well just lean in an get it all over with.

“How observant,” he scowls. “What gave that away, huh?”

Yuta jumps in without any hesitation. “Well first there was Taeyong’s reaction when he heard your name, and of course your reaction when you saw him. And then the fact that you actually let him stay, proving that you, just like my dear Sicheng, are the biggest fucking tsundere alive—“

“Objection,” Sicheng mutters under his breath.

“—and also, that sexual tension is so thick it can’t even be cut with one of Mark’s knives. So yeah, that all gave it away,” Yuta finishes with an extremely proud expression on his face.

“You’re an idiot,” Sicheng deadpans.

By this point, Jaehyun’s head is already throbbing. Not only has Yuta just called him out on all his bullshit, but it’s still only ten in the morning and he hasn’t had any coffee and really he wants death to come right about now.

“Alright,” he decides, shaking Yuta’s arm off and standing up. “I think I’ve had enough. I’m going out.”

Before Yuta can throw another smart remark, Jaehyun tosses his book right into Yuta’s abdomen and leaves without looking back.

“Idiot,” Sicheng repeats, giving Yuta an unimpressed look.

“Shut up,” Yuta pouts.

After a few seconds of silence, Sicheng sighs and gets up, making his way over to his boyfriend on the couch. Leaning down, he presses a kiss to Yuta’s lips and murmurs, “It’s not like you’re wrong, though.”

Yuta grins and pulls Sicheng down by the collar. “I’m always right,” he agrees gleefully.

Safe to say, Sicheng is far too preoccupied with Yuta’s mouth to make a snarky comment in return.

(Three years prior:

Doyoung slaps a manila folder down on the table. “So. Yakuza, huh?”

Yuta jumps in his seat. “Um,” he laughs nervously. “How’d you figure that out?”

Unimpressed, Jaehyun flips open the folder and deals out the photos inside like a deck of cards. “Here you are with a known member in Tokyo,” he remarks. “This is you with yet another known member in Hokkaido,” Jaehyun lifts a brow. “And perhaps the most incriminating one is you pictured with the boss in Indonesia. That answers the question for you?”

To his credit, Yuta doesn’t seem the least bit surprised that Jaehyun and Doyoung figured him out. If anything, he’s already resigned to his fate and just feels embarrassed that he’s been called out so soon.

“Okay, okay,” he smiles sheepishly. “Yeah, Yakuza. Ex-Yakuza, to be more accurate.”

“So why’d you leave, then?” Jaehyun demands.

Yuta pauses. “I…” He swallows. “I couldn’t do it anymore. My job was all I’ve ever known, but then it started to weigh down on me. I just couldn’t handle it, you know? But the boss has always liked me, so he let me go. Even helped me with immigration and green cards and all that shit. Saved my life, really.”

“Uh huh,” Doyoung nods skeptically. “Then why join a hitmen squad? That’s pretty similar to your previous line of work.

“Well,” Yuta’s smile transforms from sheepish to somber. “I tried living normally for a while. I got a job at this restaurant and everything, but it didn’t take long for me to realize that it didn’t work. It’s never going to work, because you can’t just kick old habits.This is all I’ve ever known, and I can’t move on. So I figured I’d just lean right back on in.”

Jaehyun and Doyoung exchange glances.

“Well, shit,” they say in unison.)

“Let me guess,” Sehun raises a brow. “A black coffee as black as can be?”

“How’d you know?” Jaehyun laughs weakly. He’d all but skipped the register and went straight to closest seat on the counter and banged his head down on the surface.

“Lucky guess,” Sehun deadpans as he fiddles with the machines. “You literally fit all the stereotypes for a moody, brooding bad boy so I figured you’d drink it straight black.”

Jaehyun can’t even find the energy to dignify Sehun with a response. “Thanks,” is all he can muster when Sehun slides a mug over to him. “Am I still banned from paper cups?”

“Oh yes. Can’t risk any more burnt hands or else Sejeong may really fire me.”

Over the past few weeks, Jaehyun has learned which times and days are the slowest at Star Blossom. Sehun also disclosed his work schedule, so whenever Jaehyun needs a break from his own world, he takes a walk over to talk to the sassy not-barista. Today isn’t the slowest Jaehyun’s seen the café, but it’s slow enough that Sehun can afford to hang out with Jaehyun instead of man the register.

“When’s your friend off her leave?” Jaehyun asks in an attempt to make conversation.

Sehun wrinkles his nose. “She was supposed to be back in a few months, but her husband’s convinced her to take some more time off. It’s understandable though—it doesn’t sound easy to be a mom. Plus he’s been panicking like all first time fathers, and while it’s been funny to watch him run around with no idea what he’s doing, it’s probably better for him to have his way for now.”

“Sounds like a great husband.”

“Mmhmm,” there’s a small, barely detectable glint in Sehun’s eye. “Yeah, he’s cool and all, but I’m still the most important person in Sejeongie’s life. Well, maybe Mina’s more important, but I’m certainly higher on the list than he could ever be.”

In a way, Sehun reminds Jaehyun of a less extroverted but equally fun Ten. Sehun’s comfortable with both showboating and self-deprecation, and even when they’d first met he already showed a high level of comfort around Jaehyun. It’s nice to have someone to talk to who isn’t wrapped up in the lives of kidnapped boys and former Yakuza members. Sehun is normal, and Jaehyun likes him for that.

Maybe if they’d met under different circumstances, Jaehyun would’ve considered hitting on him. Had it been Sehun at the bar that night instead of Taeyong, Jaehyun thinks his life could have turned out slightly less complicated. But he cherishes these brief periods of normalcy too much, and even though Sehun hasn’t said anything, Jaehyun knows that there’s already someone else in his life.

“Hey,” Sehun pokes Jaehyun on the shoulder. “This may come as a surprise, but you don’t seem half as dead as you usually do today. I know you look dead of course, but you have a different vibe today.”

Huh. “How so?” Jaehyun inquires.

Sehun just shrugs. “I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s like you’re at peace with something that’s been bothering you for a while. I won’t pry, but I hope everything’s going alright for you and I’m not just imagining all this.”

The annoyed cough of a customer at the register interrupts the conversation. “I’ll be back!” Sehun promises as he waltzes over to tend to a middle aged woman in a two-piece suit. “Don’t you dare leave before I get something juicy out you, Jung Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun can only chuckle in response.

(Four years prior:

Dong Sicheng’s Korean isn’t great. He can say a few basic phrases, but the majority of the time Jaehyun and Doyoung need Kun to be present and serve as a translator.

“He says it all started when he got roped into this gang. First they just did normal street fight things,” Kun explains. “Then, when they needed money, they took on paid assassinations.”

Sicheng patiently waits for Kun to finish speaking before saying something else in quick Mandarin.

“But then half the team got caught, so he fled the country. Heard about us through the net,” Kun says.

Doyoung lifts an impressed brow. “Goddamn,” he whistles lowly. “That’s a lot for someone so young.”

“I’m the same age as him,” Jaehyun adds in lamely.

It’s been a long, long time since Jaehyun last knew someone his own age. He grew up surrounded by Doyoung and his father and more recently Kun, and he’s gotten used to being the youngest. But even though he and Sicheng are the same age, there’s a certain grace and composure to Sicheng’s voice and body language. He’s built like a dancer with wiry muscles and a slender build, but everything about the way he moves with calculated fluidity lets Jaehyun know just how capable he really is.

Jaehyun, on the other hand, is all anger and despair. He walks like he not just the Earth but all the other plants and moons and stars on his shoulders, and half the time his mind and lungs are so murky he can’t find a way to think or breathe. Sicheng represents who Jaehyun wants to be, but he isn’t jealous of the newcomer.

“I like him,” he decides.)

“So,” Sehun wipes his hands on the front of his—or, more accurately, Sejeong’s—dark green apron. “I feel like we’ve reached a point in our friendship where we can be totally honest with each other.”

“We’ve known each other for less than a month.”

“And that’s good enough,” Sehun hums. Occasionally, he twists at the ring around his fourth finger. “So tell me then; what’s actually up with you? At first I thought you were some angsty twenty-something year old having an early midlife crisis, but it’s gotten concerning. I’m just gonna ask you this once but be honest with me: Are you okay?”

Jaehyun would be lying if he said Sehun caught him off guard. He’s seen this coming for weeks now—ever since he committed to befriending the other man, Jaehyun knew it would eventually come to this. Sehun is far too straightforward and observant to not realize that Jaehyun’s fucked up, and the skirting around difficult topics was just the calm before the storm.

And usually it would be easy to lie, but for some reason, Jaehyun’s found that it’s getting harder and harder for him to lie now.

I want to be better, he’d decided. So he had to actually do so.

“I’m not okay,” he confesses, and like that it feels like one of the planets have left his shoulders. “I haven’t been okay for a long time, hyung.”

Sehun merely nods, gesturing for him to continue.

“I told you a little about my best friend,” Jaehyun continues, raking his mind for the best way to tell his story. “I guess you probably already figured out that he died, right?”

Sehun nods again.

Jaehyun lets out a tired laugh. “When Doyoung died, I lost the most important person in my life. He’s been with me since we were children, and even when I was shitty and did terrible things, he never let me out of his sight. He was similar enough that he understood me, but also much more mature. One of our friends once said that Doyoung was like this guardian angel of sorts, and I think that’s the best way to describe our relationship.”

“But I don’t think I ever realized how important he was until I saw him die. Like that saying about how you never know what you have until you’ve lost it? That’s Doyoung for me. I guess I’d always assumed he’d be right by my side, fighting my battles with me that I never questioned what would happened if he were to just disappear.”

“I’ve never seen myself as someone with a lot of ambition, but Doyoung was different. He wanted so much out of his life. He wanted to find love and start a family, but instead he was too busy cleaning up after all my messes. As if he were an older brother who could never leave home because he had a younger brother to look after. I held him back so much and he never complained, but I knew that he wanted more. I knew he did, yet I held onto him and now he’ll never get what he wanted.”

Somehow, talking about Doyoung in this flowery café feels alright. Jaehyun remembers every detail about the first and only time they came here together—the gardenias on their table, the pretty barista’s smile, the taste of his beignet—and it’s almost as if he’s still with him right now. If he closes his eyes, he could imagine that it’s Doyoung and not Sehun leaning over the counter in front of him.

But then he opens his eyes again, and it’s Sehun facing him. Dreams can only take Jaehyun so far.

“I,” he takes a moment to shake his head and scoff at himself. “We lived together, and after he died, I haven’t even walked on his side of the room. I haven’t let anyone touch any of his stuff. I’m pretty sure his bed is still made from that morning before he died. I can’t even look at his side without feeling like I can’t breathe. Is that normal?”

Sehun, he remembers, has lost someone too. A fiancé. He out of all people would understand.

“I think,” Sehun says heavily, no longer fidgeting with his ring. “I think your reaction is perfectly normal, Jaehyun. Grief is, well, tricky. It’s not something you can overcome easily, and sometimes even when you think it’s gone, it comes back.”

He swallows. “After my fiancé…well, it’s been tough. It’s been years now, but I don’t see an end in sight. Sometimes I think I hear his voice or see him on the street, but then I look twice and realize he’s not there and never will be there again. It’s brutal, and I want to be able to move on. I know it’s what hyung would want, and I know I can’t live like this forever. Sejeong coaxed me into getting therapy, which helped. And then it didn’t, so I tried again with a different therapist. I shuffled through maybe ten before I stopped.”

Jaehyun stares down at his mug. “Did it work?”

“Depends,” Sehun shrugs, voice neutral. “Did I stop crying every night when I went to bed without him? Yeah. Did I go back to my job after almost quitting? Yeah. But did I stop thinking about him and feeling sad? Sometimes. Healing takes a long time, and it’s been five years but I don’t know where I am in the process.”

Suddenly, Jaehyun feels very, very small. Doyoung died four months ago, and he already saw no end in sight to the darkness. Sehun’s been in his position for five years. Would either of them ever find a way out?

“But anyway,” Sehun clasps his hands together and smiles just a little. He’s not too much older than Jaehyun, but everything about his composed posture and mischievous yet knowing eyes makes him look so much wiser. Loss, Jaehyun thinks, tends to do that to people.

“You’ve still gotta start somewhere, Jaehyun. I don’t know much about your life, but I can tell that you’re trying.”

An unreadable flicker crosses his face as he says, “And I think your friend Doyoung knows that, too.”

(Five years prior:

“So why did you come find us?” Doyoung questions, voice laced with curiosity. “We’re not exactly well-known or easy to find, yet here you are. How’d you even know about us if you’re from China?”

Kun studies the green mug in his hands. It’s one of Jaehyun’s old ones from about ten years ago, and the handle is gone after being completely broken off during a fight with his father. There’s a noticeably large chip on one part of the rim, but judging by the way Kun puts his lips directly to the jagged edges, he doesn’t care.

Indifferent? Jaehyun guesses. Or maybe just stupid.

Finally, Kun raises his head and, with a joyless smile, says, “Beijing.”

Doyoung and Jaehyun exchange glances. “What?” Jaehyun narrows his eyes in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kun’s smile turns into a grimace. “Beijing,” he repeats softly, pausing to take another sip out of the damaged mug, “is why I had to run.”)

When Jaehyun returns, Ten’s waiting for him at the entrance with a grim expression.

“Success?” Jaehyun asks.

Ten replies with a wordless shake of his head. He grips Jaehyun’s arm and drags him over to the living room, avoiding the crowded kitchen. “Not good news,” Ten confirms.

Jaehyun’s lungs threaten to cave in. “Tell me.”

“Well,” Ten sighs. “Disclaimer: I didn’t find much. I did some digging on this LSM, and I still can’t find his name but it appears that this was his first time hiring a hitman. I don’t know if it was just a coincidence or whatever that he found you, but it sounds shady to me.”

“And what about Yang?”

Ten’s grimace deepens. “Ah, yes. Our dear latest target. I searched his bank statements, and it turns that that he told you the truth. He paid off all his debt years ago—but it was to a lot of different people, and none of them have the initials LSM. Either our employer lied to us about his name, or Yang had some other debt he didn’t pay off. But if you ask me, it doesn’t make any sense why Yang would lie and only pay off some of his investors.”

“So I killed an innocent man?” Jaehyun states blankly.

“Well, Yang was a slimy dude, but yes, Jae,” Ten touches his shoulder sympathetically. “I’m sorry.”

Killing people is Jaehyun’s job. He learned to shoot a gun when he was seven, and the first time he had blood on his hands was when he was ten. He shot his own fucking father, for Christ’s sake. He doesn’t even know how many jobs he’s done or how many people he’s taken out, but all those people were bad.

Or, he realizes with horror, he was told those people were all bad. What if they weren’t? How many innocent lives did he take just because someone told him to do so? What has he done?

Unconsciously, his hands grab at a cigarette in his pocket and he lights it up right on the spot. Ten flinches at the pervasive smoke, but he doesn’t say anything to make Jaehyun stop.

“Dinner’s ready!” Taeyong enters the room, then immediately backtracks a few steps at the sight of Jaehyun and Ten’s stony countenances. “Um, is everything alright?”

Ten is the first to recover. “We’re fine, Taeyong,” he plasters a fake smile on his face. “Jaehyun’s had a rough day, so I hope you don’t mind his smoking.”

Taeyong inches forward until he reaches the couch. “Are you okay?” He asks with wide, concerned eyes that make Jaehyun take another, longer drag of his cigarette.

Sensing the tension in the air, Ten quickly excuses himself and makes a bolt for the dining room. Taeyong, instead of trailing after him, takes a seat next to Jaehyun.

“We should really stop meeting like this,” he teases softly. “I feel like every time I see you you’re thinking way too hard about something.”

Jaehyun can’t even look at him, so he turns away. “Welcome to my shitty life,” he jokes half-heartedly.

Taeyong giggles. Unexpectedly, he loops his arms around Jaehyun’s upper body and rests his cheek against the still man’s back. “Sorry if this is too forward,” Taeyong murmurs. “But you just really look like you need a hug right now. So I’ll shut up and let you brood in peace.”

If he couldn’t breathe earlier, then Jaehyun can’t even open his mouth right now. Taeyong’s fingers are laced together over the center of his chest, and when he speaks Jaehyun can feel the vibrations on his back. It’s not exactly flirty, but intimate. Like Taeyong’s trying to warm him up and keep him safe. Like he truly cares.

When was the last time someone held Jaehyun like this? His father never held him unless to keep him still as he struck him with his fists. Doyoung wasn’t particularly good at physical affection. None of the other squad members dared approach him. Every nerve in his body screams for him to reject Taeyong’s touch, because he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve this beautiful man’s comfort. He doesn’t deserve anything.

He takes another inhale, then lets the cigarette fall to the hardwood floor where it flickers and dies.

Chapter Text

No matter what he’s doing, Kun is always calculated and prepared. His hands never shake, nor do his eyes quiver. Kun isn’t exactly confident, per se, but he’s steady. Which is good, because in a life of such chaos, a little bit of steadiness is needed.

So right now, when nothing’s making sense and Jaehyun can’t fucking sleep, he needs someone to talk to. And since Doyoung’s no longer an option, it has to be Kun.

“You want to get coffee?” Kun raises a skeptical brow.

Jaehyun wishes the floor could just swallow him up right about now. “Yes,” he says through gritted teeth. “I’d like to get coffee with you because there’s something I need to talk about.”

Seeming to understand the underlying message, Kun nods, and opens his door all the way. “Just let me brush my teeth first. You can talk to Taeyong-hyung in the meantime.”

Without waiting for a response, Kun slips past him into the hallway and Jaehyun finds himself once again alone with soft, pink-haired Lee Taeyong.

“Hi,” Taeyong waves awkwardly from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the bed. It’s been about two weeks since he hugged Jaehyun in the living room, and nothing quite so eventful has happened since then. Sometimes Jaehyun thinks Taeyang lingers a little too long beside him, but Taeyong is kind and quiet and respects boundaries—well, for the most part he does, and on the few times he doesn’t Jaehyun hasn’t particularly minded—so Jaehyun rather likes his presence.

Of course, those are words he’d never say out loud.

“You look tired,” Taeyong remarks, brow furrowed in concern.

Jaehyun stifles back a laugh. “Makes sense, considering I don’t sleep,” he replies dryly.

Suddenly, he remembers something. Jaehyun narrows his eyes and says, “Don’t you think that hair’s a little too much?”

“Huh?” Taeyong blinks, a hand rising to touch the ends of the candy-pink strands.

“It doesn’t matter as much because you’re not out on the job, but it’s still a bit inconspicuous,” Jaehyun continues. “It’s alright if you dye your hair, but a more natural color would be better. We don’t need anybody reporting a pink-haired man entering a house by the forest, you know.”

Slowly, Taeyong nods. “Oh,” he murmurs. “Okay. I understand.”

At that moment, Jaehyun hears the opening of a door down the hall and Kun’s familiar whistling. With a strained smile, he bows his head and mutters a quick goodbye before ducking out.

Kun’s giving him that look again. “Did I come out too soon?” He grins slyly. Occasionally, whenever he truly feels like it, Kun has the ability to be a complete and utter snake.

“Shut up.”

(What Jaehyun’s wants to say but can’t:

When Doyoung died, his hair was purple.)

“Not bad,” Kun remarks. He takes another sip of his coffee and nods appreciatively. “Damn, this is so much better than whatever shit Johnny’s been making.”

“Yeah,” Jaehyun cracks a small smile. “You say that like it’s hard.”

Kun chuckles and throws a napkin at him. “Like you’re any better.”

It’s been a while since they last did this. Kun’s not antisocial, but he’s always preferred the comfort of their house. Jaehyun’s spent a lot of one-on-one time with him in the kitchen, but they’ve rarely ever gone out with just the two of them.

Usually, Doyoung tagged along.

Kun takes one more sip before he sighs and says, “Alright Jae, spill. What’s going on with you?”

“A lot,” Jaehyun says in a lame attempt at a joke.

“Jaehyun,” Kun purses his lips in concern. “I smelled your cigarette in the living room a few weeks ago, and then you voluntarily talked to Taeyong-hyung today. According to Ten, you even let Taeyong hug you once. Those are all red flags if I’ve ever seen one.”

Absently, Jaehyun runs his fingers across the burn scar on his hand. It had healed within a few days after the incident, but the striking mark across his pale skin wasn’t going to fade anytime soon.

“Dons brought me here once,” Jaehyun says. It’s not what Kun wants to hear, but it’s the only way he knows to start the story. “He had a crush on one of the baristas. I don’t think anything ever happened, though.”

Kun blinks in confusion, but he gestures for Jaehyun to continue anyway.

“That was years ago. The day Taeyong showed up, I went to take a walk by the Han and found myself here. Then I came back the next day, and the next thing I knew I was talking to a complete stranger like he was a therapist.”

“That…” Kun trails off. “I mean, that’s good, Jae. You do need to start letting things off your chest.”

“But that’s the problem,” Jaehyun smiles ruefully. “It’s so easy for me to tell some random guy how I’m doing, but then I just tensed up. It felt like I couldn’t breathe, and, well, I spilled my coffee and got that burn.”

Kun opens his mouth to say something, but suddenly his eyes widen and his whole body stiffens as he stares at something beyond Jaehyun’s shoulder.

Confused, Jaehyun moves to turn around. This is the first time in years he’s seen Kun look scared, and if Kun’s afraid then whatever it is can’t be good.

But when he looks behind himself, he only sees Sehun, descending a flight of stairs behind the counter.

“Hyung!” He calls, completely unaware of Kun’s darkening expression.

Sehun glances around the café until he spots Jaehyun. With a smile, he makes his way over to their table. “Hey,” he greets. “Haven’t seen you in a while. How’s everything going?”

“Could be better,” Jaehyun shrugs. “Where’d you come from, anyway? I thought you’d be working when we came in.”

Only then does Sehun notice the other person present at the table. He gives the still stone-faced Kun a quick nod of acknowledgment before turning back to Jaehyun. “I live upstairs, actually. My friend used to room with me, but then she moved out and let me have the apartment to myself.”

“Ah. Your friend who owns this place?”

“The one and only Kim Sejeong,” Sehun remarks with a fond shake of his head. “Anyway. I gotta head out, but enjoy your coffee. My barista skills are ass compared to Junmyeon-hyung’s.”

“That would explain the difference in quality,” Jaehyun grins.

Sehun very kindly flips him off as he exits.

The second Sehun is gone, Kun snaps out of his trance. “What the fuck was that,” he demands.

“Huh?” Jaehyun frowns. “What the fuck was what?”

“You’re so casual with that dude,” Kun points out with a raised brow. “Is he the one you’ve been talking to?”

“Perceptive as usual,” Jaehyun confirms.

A flicker of unease passes through Kun’s eyes. He purses his lips and says, “It’s not like you to be so…comfortable with someone. I haven’t seen you look relaxed talking to someone since, well, Doyoung.”

Strangely, the mention of Doyoung doesn’t hurt as much anymore. It still makes his chest feel constricted, but not enough to stop him from breathing.

“I guess,” Jaehyun shrugs, keeping his tone as even as possible. “I don’t know what it is, but Sehun-hyung makes me feel relaxed. Obviously I haven’t told him everything, but he seems to get it, in a way.”

“Uh huh,” Kun’s lips thin into a line. He looks as if he wants to say something else, but then doubt flashes across his face and he sighs. “Just be careful, Jae. I don’t want you or this Sehun to get hurt.”

Jaehyun raises a brow. “How would he get hurt?”

“Have you forgotten about your job?” Kun replies dryly. “I mean, isn’t that why you didn’t want Taeyong-hyung getting involved at first? Because you always talk about how you can’t just drag innocent people into your, quote, ‘shitty life’?”

It suddenly dawns on Jaehyun that Kun isn’t telling the full story. Kun is a naturally caring person, but he doesn’t particularly tend to show empathy for random strangers. And then there was that way his eyes widened when Sehun came down the stairs…

Kun coughs awkwardly. “Okay, whatever. Suit yourself, Jaehyun. I trust you to make the right decisions,” he mumbles, sounding every bit as unconvincing as he looks.

“Right,” Jaehyun narrows his eyes, making a mental note to talk to Sehun next time. “Thanks, hyung.”

(A small sliver of Kun’s past:

Kun nearly drops his gun in shock when the small man sighs and, without turning around, says, “So is it me or him?”)

“Hey,” Johnny shoves Jaehyun unceremoniously across the couch. “Ten says we got a new job.”

Immediately, Jaehyun’s head snaps away from the TV. “Yeah?” He leans closer to Johnny. “What is it?”

Johnny shrugs. “Sounds pretty elementary. Some man named Lee wants us to take out this guy who owns a music store. Park Jinyoung—the target—seems pretty lowkey, but apparently there’s been a shit ton of corruption behind the scenes regarding his workers and where he’s been getting his supplies. Some weird connection to Japan, apparently.”

“Huh,” Jaehyun sags back against the couch. “That’s pretty lame. When is this happening?”

“Couple days,” Johnny grins with amusement. “Should be an easy day at the office,” he jokes.

The two sit in amicable silence for some time, half-paying attention to the action-packed drama on the television. In the background, Yuta, the cook of the day, shouts something to Ten, who replies back with a sassy tone. Jaehyun guesses that if Yuta’s in the kitchen, so is Sicheng to torment him. Kun disappeared upstairs the second they got back, and Taeyong is nowhere to be seen.

That is, he was nowhere to be seen until he chooses that exact moment to step into the living room, fidgeting with a small box in his hands.

“Oh, hey!” Johnny calls in greeting. He and Ten were the quickest to warm up to the newcomer, and Taeyong seems the most comfortable around them.

Taeyong returns his greeting before he clears his throat and says, “Jaehyun, can I ask you for a favor?”

Caught off guard, all Jaehyun can muster is a confused, “Huh?”

“I, well…” Taeyong trails off as he holds out the box so Jaehyun can see. Black hair dye. “I don’t actually know how to do this. My friend Taeil dyed my hair for me last time because he works at a salon, but I’m worried I’ll mess up without him so I was wondering if you could help me.”

Jaehyun purposefully ignores looking at Johnny—he doesn’t have to see his friend’s face to know there’s a shit-eating grin on it right now—and furrows his brow. “Where’d you even get this?” He asks, avoiding the real question for as long as he can.

“Sicheng told me he was going out today and asked if I needed anything, so I told him I wanted to dye my hair back to black,” Taeyong explains patiently.

“Can't Sicheng help?”

Johnny snorts. “Don’t be rude, Jae. Sicheng’s probably too busy sucking face with Yuta to help anyone right now.”

Jaehyun very nearly makes a retort as to why Johnny isn’t offering his own assistance, but Taeyong’s hopeful expression sews his mouth shut. Oh what the hell, he thinks. Considering he was the one who told Taeyong to dye his hair in the first place, he supposes this is part of the price.

“Okay,” he agrees, much to both Johnny and Taeyong’s shock. Jaehyun stands up before he can take back his words and gestures for Taeyong to follow him upstairs. “But if I fuck up your scalp it’s not my fault.”

Taeyong smiles. “Right.”

(A small sliver of Taeyong’s past:

“Fate?” Taeil raises a brow. He pauses his brush strokes with only half of Taeyong’s hair covered in dye. “I mean, I guess I believe in it. Like there’s some things that have happened in my life where, looking back on them, I think everything happened for a reason. But where’s this coming from, Yongie?”

Taeyong stares down at his feet with a light blush on his cheeks. “There’s this guy I keep seeing everywhere, and I thought I’d only ever see him once but then he keeps showing up in random places right when I'm there too. Isn’t that fate, hyung?”

Taeil just shakes his head. Taeyong has always been a hopeless romantic, and if all it took was seeing some stranger a few times, then he truly was doomed. “I think you’re better off falling in love the normal way,” Taeil jokes.

“Seoul’s not that small, hyung,” Taeyong points out. “There’s like ten million of us. So what are the odds of me seeing this one guy over and over?”

“You’ve probably seen plenty of people over and over, but you’ve just never noticed because you didn’t find them cute,” Taeil shrugs.

“But hey,” Taeil adds as an afterthought as he continues to apply the pink dye. “If you see this guy again, then why don’t you see if it’s actually fate by going up and talking to him?”)

Way back when Doyoung dyed his hair purple, he’d done the whole job by himself while Jaehyun played darts with Sicheng in some bar. Naturally, Jaehyun mocked Doyoung to hell and back with his particular color choice, but he’d be lying if he said that Doyoung’s hair job didn’t pique his curiosity.

Of course, Jaehyun never expected that months later, he’d be dying someone else’s hair. The hair of someone he once fucked, to be more exact. Someone who’d wriggled his way into their lives and somehow managed to stay.

“That feels nice,” Taeyong remarks, giggling as Jaehyun’s hands run through his wet hair. “You could always go into hairdressing if this whole hitman thing doesn’t work out.”

That, Jaehyun thinks, is rather bold by Taeyong standards. “Thanks, but I don’t think that’ll happen anytime soon,” he responds dryly.

He turns off the tap and offers Taeyong a towel to dry his hair with. “Also,” Jaehyun adds, guilt creeping in when he sees how Taeyong glances forlornly at his pink hair in the mirror. “You didn’t actually have to dye your hair, you know. I wasn’t in a great mood this morning, and I tend to say stuff I don't actually mean when I'm pissed off.”

“You’re never really in a great mood anyway, so I figured me dying my hair would be one less thing for you to worry about,” Taeyong shrugs flippantly. “And besides, I think my scalp needs to breathe. Taeil-hyung—my friend who owns the salon—has been using me as a test subject for different hair colors, and it’s been a while since I’ve gone back to black.”

“Yeah?” Jaehyun tries to imagine Taeyong with hair in all colors of the rainbow. “What’d he put you through?”

Taeyong laughs softly. “First it was white, then this really pale purple. Then he made me go green for a few days, then it was red. I had to be blonde for a solid six months before the pink happened. So it’s about time for the black to make a comeback.”

“So is that why your hair’s so thin?” Jaehyun smirks.

“Hey!” Taeyong pouts. “Stop making fun of me and help me already!”

“Right, right,” Jaehyun chuckles.

As he applies the dye to Taeyong’s pink hair, the atmosphere in the bathroom is silent but not awkward. Taeyong and Sehun are extremely different, but Jaehyun likes both of their company. They help him feel at ease and normal. Occasionally, Taeyong hums some pop tune to himself, wide eyes curiously following Jaehyun’s movements in the mirror.

“You’re not so cold anymore,” Taeyong says quietly. “Did something good happen?”

Jaehyun halts in his movements. That’s a good question. Did something good happen to him? He doesn’t remember anything particularly groundbreaking happening in the past few days, and he’s still a moping insomniac. But now that he thinks about it, he has been feeling a bit more relaxed lately. Maybe it’s because he’s finally getting used to all of the changes in his life. Maybe he’s starting to move on.

Whatever it is, he doesn’t mind it.

“I guess,” he replies. “There’s this…friend I’ve been talking to for a while now, and it’s helped a bit. It’s not a perfect situation and definitely not a final solution, but I feel better after seeing him.”

Taeyong tilts his head. “Kun told me you’ve been acting different lately. Says you’re more open now. Even Ten thinks you’re nicer, too,” he remarks.

“Oh really?” Jaehyun hides his smile. He thinks he’s covered all of Taeyong’s hair with the dye now, so sets the brush down and checks the box for instructions. “I always had a feeling they were talking about me behind my back.”

“Only good things, of course,” Taeyong teases.

They sit in silence for another few minutes, with Jaehyun busy wiping any stray dye off Taeyong’s forehead. Surprisingly, it doesn’t feel awkward to be alone with Taeyong anymore. Perhaps Jaehyun really did has gotten used to all the changes in his life.

“Tell me about yourself.”

Never mind.

Jaehyun flinches back. “What?” He blinks.

Taeyong’s staring at him with those large eyes. “Tell me about yourself,” he repeats in his soft voice. “I feel like I’ve learned some stuff about the others, but I don’t know anything about you.”

In the back of his mind, Jaehyun thinks back to the night he and Taeyong traded harsh words and a broken watch was thrown at the wall. “I think you’ve already figured out what you need to know about me,” he says, making it clear that he does not, under any circumstances, want to talk about his past.

He’s about to open the door and leave right there and then when a voice that sounds an awful lot like one of his friend’s echoes in his mind.

Be better, Sehun chides. And with Taeyong looking at him like that, there’s really no escape.

With a sigh, Jaehyun drops down on the edge of the bathtub and curls his hands into fists. “When I was five,” he pauses to take a deep breath. “When I was five, I woke up to sound of my father shooting my mother. Then he went into my sister’s room and shot her, and after her he took my brother, too.”

The words have an immediate effect on Taeyong, who blanches and recoils back  in fear.

Jaehyun laughs mirthlessly. “Yeah, that’s how most people react. It’s not pretty, but it’s my life.”

“Go on,” Taeyong whispers, like he’s afraid to hear the rest but dying from curiosity.

“I thought I would be next,” Jaehyun tightens his fists. “I was so sure of it. But then he came into my room, and all he said was, ‘That’s what happens to the weak’. Then he told me to go down because breakfast was ready, and the rest of the day passed like nothing had happened.”

“I don’t know how he did it, but he managed to cover up all three deaths. But before the police came to take statements, he pinned me to the wall by the throat and told me that if I ever told anyone, he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot me, too. I was only five, so I was scared shitless and did everything he told me to.”

“A year later, he came home with this boy around my age. He told me that this was my new brother, and that it was up to us to keep each other in line. From that point on, whenever he wanted me to behave, he’d threaten to kill Doyoung.”

Taeyong curls his knees to his chest from where he’s perched on the closed toilet seat. “The Doyoung you lost?” He asks quietly.

“The one and only,” Jaehyun can’t help the barely-there smile that makes its way to his lips. “I learned that my actions had consequences not just for myself, but for Doyoung, too. So for the next thirteen years, I let my father do whatever he wanted.”

“He made good money out of being a hitman, and we lived in this big house with guards around every corner. I used to think that the guards were there to keep people out, but as I got older I realized that the guards were supposed to keep me in. I don’t think my father actually gave a shit about Doyoung except to use him as leverage against me, but he definitely did everything in his power to make sure I wouldn’t run.”

“So how did you get out?” Taeyong interrupts.

Jaehyun can’t quite look him in the eye. “I’m getting there,” he answers.

“I think I was maybe six when I first shot a gun. My tenth birthday present was to kill a man, and when I was thirteen my father was already sending me out on solo missions. Doyoung was just as well-trained, but he’d always been more resistant. He didn’t want to kill, but he did so to survive because he knew he didn't have a choice.”

“I did everything my father wanted, until I decided I didn’t care anymore. I always hated him, but as I got older I realized that I was just as capable as he was. So the day after my eighteenth birthday, I went into his office,” Jaehyun lifts his head up to lock eyes with Taeyong as he says, “and I shot him point blank in the head.”

Taeyong stills.

“Doyoung and I killed all the guards and ran away. We crashed in shitty motels for a bit, keeping a low profile while the authorities investigated. They definitely suspected us, but in the end the case was determined to be a breaking and entering case as well as kidnapping. But the police had better things to do than search for two teenagers, so they eventually dropped us and moved on. Doyoung and I made our way here, and then the rest of the house came into our lives one by one.”

“The thing is,” Jaehyun continues, ignoring the frightened look on Taeyong’s face. “I hated my father. He killed our family and forced me to go through hell, and he dragged in another innocent boy, too. He beat me senseless every other day if I were lucky, and even when I got out I couldn’t avoid being fucked up in every way possible.”

“But you know what I hate him the most for?” Jaehyun loosens his fists and studies his pale fingers. “It wasn’t for killing my mother and siblings, or for beating me and turning me into whatever I’ve become. It’s for taking my name away.”

“Taking your name away?” Taeyong echoes in confusion. The dye has long since dried, and he looks even more doe-like with jet black hair. “What does that mean?”

Jaehyun doesn’t respond for several minutes. “My mother was the one who named me Jaehyun,” he says. “When he killed her, my father changed it to Yoonoh. Strip away a kid’s name; you take his identity, too. So before I shot him, I made him say my real name one last time to make sure he didn’t forget who I really am.”

“Not exactly what you were expecting when you asked about me, huh?” Jaehyun can’t even find the strength to laugh anymore.

“Jaehyun,” Taeyong swallows, completely at a loss for words

This is what you got yourself into when you approached me at the bar. When you found me again. This is one of countless horrible stories, and it’s nothing you expected. So if you’re smart, Lee Taeyong, you’d run. Leave and never look back. Don’t even think of me ever again, because I’m not worth it. Just go.

But then Taeyong swallows again and like that, his resolve is back. Not so speechless anymore, but more determined.

He leans over and places his hand over Jaehyun’s. “You didn’t have to tell me everything if it hurt too much,” he murmurs.

I wanted to. “It’s okay,” Jaehyun shrugs.

Taeyong dips his head down and presses a delicate kiss to Jaehyun’s cheek. It’s soft and barely there, but just enough.

“Thank you for trusting me,” Taeyong whispers.

(What they both know but won’t say out loud:

Taeyong is scared to hell and back, but for Jaehyun’s sake, he’s trying his best to stay calm.)

“Whoa!” Yuta blinks rapidly as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing. “You look adorable!”

Taeyong pouts. “I’m twenty-seven; that’s too old to be adorable.”

“Yeah, well you look younger than me, so it doesn’t matter that you’re twenty-seven!” Mark shouts from across the table.

Johnny doesn’t hesitate to smack Mark upside the head. “Respect your elders!” He chides, adding another smack for good measure.

“What the hell, hyung?” Mark splutters.

Without missing a beat, Ten adds another smack to Mark’s head. “How dare you speak to my husband like that!”

“Settle down, settle down,” Sicheng mutters under his breath as he passes the green beans to Kun. “Mark can’t afford to lose any more braincells that he already has,” Sicheng adds dryly.

Mark throws his chopsticks up in exasperation. “When did this become an everyone versus Mark event?” He demands.

“Quiet, fetus,” Jaehyun jokes. “And it started when you insulted a man eight years your senior by saying you looks younger than you.”

“But he does!”

Ten and Johnny both whack the back of his head in sync.

“But in all seriousness, you look great,” Kun smiles encouragingly. “The pink was nice and all, but nothing can beat black hair. Jaehyun did a good job.”

Jaehyun pretends to not notice Taeyong’s blush at the mention of the former’s name.

“So why’d you dye it again?” Yuta inquires between spoonfuls of rice.

“I received a helpful suggestion,” is all Taeyong says. “It felt pretty out of place to have pink hair when all of you have black.”

Jaehyun nearly chokes on his rice, because he swears someone’s foot just ran over his right one. And considering Taeyong’s sitting to his right…

“Sounds like a Jaehyun thing to say,” Kun comments with a subtle wink Jaehyun’s way.

One day, Jaehyun truly will kill Qian Kun. It’s only a matter of when at this point.

“He’s always had a thing for dark hair,” Ten muses.

“And now I’m leaving,” Jaehyun announces as he forcefully sets down his bowl and chopsticks. “Goodbye all. I’ll see every single one of you fuckers in hell.”

“How can you say that when we all know Sicheng’s an angel?” Yuta shouts indignantly.

Sicheng merely rolls his eyes. “I don’t think any of us are gonna make it to heaven.”

Sehun snorts. “You sure won’t be making it to heaven. Hell suits your emo ass much better,” he remarks as he leans over the counter with his chin resting on his hand.

“Thanks for the encouragement, hyung,” Jaehyun throws a napkin at the fake barista, which Sehun swiftly dodges. “I’ll be waiting to throw coffee in your face when you get there, too.”

“Duly noted,” Sehun dips his head in acknowledgment.

He’s still wearing the ring, Jaehyun notices. At first glance, it looked like a simple silver band, but now that he looks a little closer, there are delicate gold engravings on the surface. There’s no diamond or stone as expected of most engagement rings, but it’s still beautiful in its simplicity.

Actually, it’s not an engagement ring, Jaehyun suddenly realizes. It’s a wedding ring.

A sad smile tug’s at Sehun’s lips when he notices Jaehyun’s lingering eyes. “He always thought diamonds were too gaudy and didn’t see the point to getting a different ring once we got married, so he gave me this one. I didn’t mind, because they mean the same thing anyway,” he explains quietly.

“What’s his name?” Jaehyun asks curiously. He’s only ever heard Sehun refer to fiancé as hyung, and now that he thinks about it, he really doesn’t know anything about the man at all.

Sehun studies his ring. “Lu Han,” he replies.

That name doesn't quite sound Korean. “Chinese?” Jaehyun guesses.

“Yeah,” Sehun nods. “He’d spend his summers here though, so I’ve known him since I was a kid.”

Jaehyun isn’t one to pry, but something tells him that Sehun wouldn’t mind. So he goes for it.

“What was he like?”

Sehun glances down at his watch. “My shift’s over,” he says, taking off Sejeong’s apron and tossing it somewhere below the counter. “Come up to my place?”

The apartment above the café isn’t big by any means, but it’s sizable for only a single occupant. Sehun doesn’t seem to be one for extravagant decorations, but  the few artistic posters and hanging lights are tastefully done.

A small bookshelf in the living room catches Jaehyun’s eye. It’s a single ledge hanging from the wall, with an assortment of objects resting on it. There’s an uncompleted Rubik’s cube next to a red scarf and a few framed photographs of Sehun with another man.

Lu Han.

He’s considerably smaller than Sehun, but in their pictures, Sehun looks completely whipped with the adoring way he stares at his fiancé. In a way, Lu Han reminds Jaehyun of Taeyong—both slender and beautiful with doe-like eyes, but Lu Han seems softer with fewer sharp angles to his face. He and Sehun looked good together.

“One of my therapists told me that I shouldn’t look at so many things that remind me of him, so I packed all his things and left them in the closet. But I cheated a little and kept this shelf anyway,” Sehun remarks, coming up next to Jaehyun and plucking the Rubik’s cube off the shelf. “His family told me they could arrange to have him buried in Seoul if I wanted, but I couldn’t do that to them. I could barely go to the funeral; maybe it’s better I don’t have a grave to visit.”

Jaehyun’s tempted to ask how Lu Han died, but he has a feeling Sehun will get there eventually. So instead, he says, “How’d you first meet?”

Sehun carefully twists the Rubik’s cube around, studying the colors intently. “Like I said, he’d spend his summers in Seoul. Rich family, and his mom was best friends with mine during university. He was four years older than me, but he didn’t know anyone else so he played with me and Sejeong when we were young.”

“Four years?” Jaehyun demands incredulously, taking another look at Lu Han and Sehun’s photographs. “He looks so young.”

“Yeah,” Sehun cracks a smile. “I used to tell him he was an eternal twelve year old, and that we couldn’t kiss in public or else the police would arrest me. He always punched me for that.”

“Anyway,” he continues. “I had this huge crush on him when we were little, and as I got older I got bolder. It’s a long story, but I guess you could say I eventually won him over when I was eighteen. We got engaged a few months before he died.”

“It’s weird, because I spent my whole life being in love with him. I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with him too, but shit happened.”

This is it, Jaehyun thinks dimly. This is the moment of truth.

“How did he die?” He asks.

Sehun twists the cube one last time and is greeted with a completed puzzle. “We went to Beijing one summer to visit his family. They didn’t have enough space in their house though, so hyung and I stayed in this hotel. One day I went down to the lobby to ask the front desk for something. I was gone for maybe fifteen minutes, but when I got back he was lying in his blood.”

“Shot in the head,” Sehun murmurs. He’s so quiet and distant it’s as if he forgot about Jaehyun’s presence entirely. “I knew the second I saw him that he was already gone, but all I could do was scream and cry and hold him. I guess I screamed so much that the other guests heard me, and the next thing I knew I was getting dragged away from his body.”

“At first the police thought I’d killed him, but then they checked the hotel cameras and saw that while I was down at the lobby, Lu Han had quickly stepped out of his room and walked back in. The official ruling was suicide, but they couldn’t explain why they couldn’t find a gun.”

Chills run down Jaehyun’s spine. “You don’t think it was a suicide?”

Sehun shakes his head insistently. “There weren’t any signs of him having suicidal tendencies, and he didn’t leave a note, either. And what about the gun? How could he shoot himself and dispose of the gun? No one else was caught entering the room, either. None of the facts add up to suicide.”

His fingers clench around the Rubik’s cube. “Why would anyone want Lu Han dead? He never did anything wrong—he was perfect, and just like that he was gone.”

Jaehyun can’t find anything to say.

“We could have been happy,” Sehun sighs. He sets the cube back down on the shelf and traces his fingers along the picture frames. “We were gonna get married and had this whole life plan of two kids and two homes in Seoul and Beijing, but then some motherfucker took Lu Han away from all that. Why the fuck did they do that?”

A single tear slides down Sehun’s cheek, but he doesn’t seem to care. “I have these dreams sometimes where I’m back at the hotel and I’m running back up to our room so I can save him, but every time I open the door he’s already dead. It’s been five years and the dreams haven’t stopped, and I don’t know if they ever will.”

“So fuck whoever killed him. Fuck them to hell and back. I want whoever killed him to rot in hell, and that’s more than they deserve.”

Loss is a difficult thing.

Jaehyun is well versed in loss. His entire family was killed, and then Jaehyun himself got rid of his own father. He lost Doyoung six months ago, and he lost any chance of a future the moment his father took a gun to his mother and siblings.

He’s learned to move on. For months after the slaughter of his family, he couldn’t even walk past their rooms without feeling the urge to break down. And then one day, he felt numb. It didn’t matter anymore what happened to them, because the bottom line was that they were gone. He had no remorse when he shot his father, only vicious satisfaction in his blood. As for Doyoung…well that’s a work in progress, but he thinks he’s starting to get there.

But what Sehun went through? Jaehyun doesn’t have a fucking clue.

He doesn’t know what it’s like to be in love. His childhood was isolated to just his monster of a father and Doyoung, and his entire adult life has been him closing himself off from anybody and everybody. Sometimes he looks at Johnny and Ten or Sicheng and Yuta and thinks that it must be nice to love someone, but he can’t do it himself. Love is a risk he can’t—won’t—take.

Hell, Jaehyun didn’t even see Doyoung die. He heard the screams, sure, but Johnny dragged him out of there so fast he didn’t have time to go back. Johnny managed to get the body back after pulling a stunned Jaehyun to safety, but the funeral was close-casket because Jaehyun couldn’t bear to look at his dead best friend.

Sehun found Lu Han in a pool of blood, and Sehun had a real future that was stolen away from him with a single pull of a trigger.

That’s the thing about love. A whole lifetime of loving someone, and then it can be gone in a flash. Yet another reason why Jaehyun can’t take the risk.

Love has never ended well, after all.

“What the fuck.”

Yuta waves sadly from where he’s currently crushed on the floor beneath Mark’s weight. “What’s up, Jae?”

“What the fuck,” Jaehyun repeats in a deadpan.

“Ignore them,” Sicheng sighs, clapping a hand down on Jaehyun’s shoulder. “I went out for a run and came back to find my stupid boyfriend and the fetus boxing in the living room. I think Mark was the one who knocked over the lamp.”

Jaehyun glances over to where a—luckily still alive—lamp rests upside-down on the carpet. “I see,” he nods slowly.

“It wasn’t me!” Mark yells, hopping off Yuta and clutching Jaehyun’s arms to beg for mercy. “Yuta threw a punch so I dodged, and then he hit the lamp instead!”

“Stop outing me,” Yuta mutters under his breath, still on the floor.

“You outed yourself the second you laid eyes on Sicheng,” Jaehyun jokes, lightly prodding Yuta in the ribs with his foot as he steps over him. “And if that lamp is broken I’ll rat you out Kun.”

Sicheng laughs as he follows Jaehyun out of the living room and into the kitchen. “Need a hand?” He offers.

“That’d be great,” Jaehyun nods appreciatively. It’s his turn to cook tonight, and while he’s not nearly as bad as Ten, he’s still no Kun.

When he enters the kitchen, however, he freezes in his tracks. Because there are already eight plates of pasta on the counter and a small, newly black haired man sprinkling cheese over them.

“Hi,” Taeyong waves.

Jaehyun blinks. “Um. Isn’t it my turn to cook?” Is all he can manage to say, like the dumbass he truly is.

Taeyong merely winks. He picks up two plates to bring them over to the table, and as he passes by he purposefully brushes his elbow against Jaehyun’s arm. “Just think of it as a thank you for helping me yesterday,” he explains softly.

Sicheng smirks when Taeyong’s back is turned. “You know we all have a bet on you two, right?”

The beginnings of a headache stab at Jaehyun’s temples. “I’m gonna kill you,” he hisses out of the corner of his mouth.

Sicheng snorts.

Ten springs up from the couch in anger. “How can she choose him?” He demands incredulously, throwing his arms up in frustration.

“What a jerk,” Yuta sniffles into his sleeve.

“When will the second male lead win?” Johnny laments, shaking his head sadly at the TV.

Jaehyun stares skeptically at the three of them. “You’re idiots,” he declares.

“The sad truth,” Sicheng agrees.

“I need friends my own age,” Mark muses, only to get flicked on the temple by Jaehyun.

“I need different friends, period,” Jaehyun announces, getting up and wandering into the kitchen to grab a drink.

Taeyong is bent over the sink, diligently scrubbing at dishes all by himself. A pang of guilt hits Jaehyun, well aware of how much work Taeyong was voluntarily putting in.

“Here,” Jaehyun says, stepping up next to him at the counter. “I’ve got this.”

Startled, Taeyong nearly drops the plate in hand. “Oh,” he blinks. “It’s fine, I can handle this.”

But Jaehyun doesn’t take that for answer. He takes the plate out of Taeyong’s grip and gently pushes him to the side, saying, “It’s not fair for you to do so much.”

Taeyong still seems reluctant to leave, so Jaehyun decides to compromise and says, “Keep me company, then?”

Maybe it’s just a figment of his imagination, but Jaehyun swears he sees Taeyong blush as he murmurs, “Okay,” and leans against the counter.

Like the time they dyed Taeyong’s hair, the two stand in silence for some time with Jaehyun concentrating on the dishes and Taeyong humming to himself. Jaehyun can hear the sound of Yuta, Ten, and Johnny groaning over the drama while Mark and Sicheng egg them on. Kun sprinted upstairs to claim first shower, and it’s strange but it all feels so domestic. Like they’re normal roommates and not criminals.

Well, all but one of them are criminals.

Jaehyun watches as water runs through soap suds on a cup. “Tell me about yourself,” he says, the same way Taeyong asked him the day before.

“Huh?” Taeyong’s head snaps up in shock.

It’s hard not smile when Taeyong looks so pure and cute. “I already spilled my entire life trauma out to you, so I think it’s only fair that you return the favor,” Jaehyun replies. And for what feels like the first time, he smiles at Taeyong without hiding.

“Oh,” Taeyong whispers, taking a step forward as if he were in a trance. “I’m not that interesting, really.”

Jaehyun shrugs. “Anything’s fine. Just say whatever.”

Taeyong gnaws on his lower lip in thought. “Well,” he begins slowly. “I’m an artist—well, at least I’d like to think I am. ”

That’s new, and not at all what Jaehyun expected. “You paint?”

“Yeah. Honestly I like doing charcoal sketches much better, but I’m okay at painting too.”

Taeyong hesitates, then says, “So I majored in art when I was in college, and I had all these big dreams about becoming a famous artist. And then reality hit me right in the face when I realized that there weren’t a lot of job opportunities for artists, and that my competitors were always better than me. I never received formal training except in college, so they were all years ahead of me. I must’ve been told twenty times that my technique was too unrefined to ever get a job before I gave up.”

Jaehyun almost says something along the lines of I’m sure you’re great, but then he remembers that things like that are hardly ever helpful. So he keeps his mouth shut and gestures for Taeyong to continue.

“For a while I managed to pick up some odd jobs to pay the bills, but then it wasn’t working out anymore and I missed rent over and over again. My landlord liked me so she was lenient for almost a year, but then she eventually had to evict me. I crashed at my friend Taeil’s for a few days, but it’s not like he has a lot of money either so I felt like a burden to him. I told him I’d found somewhere else and ran off, and, well…by some luck I ended up here,” Taeyong finishes with a bittersweet smile.

“Your parents couldn’t help?” Jaehyun asks. He has a feeling that he’s pushing it a bit, and judging by the pained grimace on Taeyong’s face, parents are definitely a sore subject.

Taeyong lets out a sigh. “I haven’t spoken to them in six years,” he admits ruefully. “They were already pissed that I’d majored in art, and then I came out to them. I guess that was the final straw, because the next thing I knew they’d cut me out of their wills and blocked me from ever contacting them.”

“Oh,” Jaehyun pauses awkwardly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. They’re just your usual shitty homophobic parents. It's not like they're murderers,” Taeyong jokes, then seems to realize his mistake. “Oops,” he winces, holding his hands up in apology.

It’s distasteful and morbid and definitely wrong, but Jaehyun can’t help but laugh. He nearly drops a stack of dishes when his body doubles over in laughter, and he can even feel the beginnings of tears prick his eyes. Taeyong eyes him warily at first, but then he too starts giggling and the sound is so light and sweet and out of place but at the same time it feels just right.

Sometimes, when the world is so fucked up and there’s no visible light at the end of the tunnel, all that’s left to do is laugh.

When they’ve calmed down, Taeyong rests his hand over Jaehyun’s—he’s not so shy anymore when he reaches out—and murmurs in a tender voice, “For what it’s worth, I think you turned out alright.”

“Yeah?” Jaehyun stares at their hands and, without giving it a second thought, turns his palm upwards and laces their fingers together. “Even though I’ve clearly got daddy issues and anger management problems? And the fact that I’m a murderer?”

Taeyong laughs again. “Well that’s all true. But I still think you’re okay.”

It’s odd, but for once, Jaehyun can breathe freely.

Chapter Text

“Where are you going?”

One hand still on the doorknob, Jaehyun whirls around to find himself face to face with Taeyong, the skinny man watching him curiously with those large eyes.

Jaehyun manages to crack a smile. “Morning,” he says in greeting. “I’m just off to get some coffee. Didn’t think anyone else would be awake right now. What are you doing up?”

“Kun snores a lot, but I’m worried about telling him that so I’ve just been dealing with it,” Taeyong admits, biting at the nail on his index finger. With a small smile he adds, “Can you keep a secret?”

“Huh?” Jaehyun blinks, not sure where this conversation is going. “Um, yeah?”

Taeyong’s grin is mischievous and impish, and it’s a look Jaehyun hasn’t seen on him before but he decides he rather likes. “At first I could sleep through his snoring, but after a few weeks I couldn’t take it anymore. I’ve been sneaking down to sleep in the kitchen after he falls asleep, then I go back up before he wakes up. Which is why I’m awake now, actually,” he explains, pressing a finger to his lips to swear Jaehyun to secrecy.

Jaehyun stifles back a laugh, well aware that Mark’s a light sleeper and he’s in the living room. “You’re trickier than I originally thought,” he remarks in amusement.

This early in the morning, Taeyong looks especially soft. He’s wearing some sweatshirt that’s clearly too big for him and plaid pajama pants, and his black hair is cutely sticking all over the place. Like they have a will of their own, Jaehyun’s hands nearly come up to touch Taeyong’s sleep-swollen cheeks, only for his conscience to take over and slap his hands away.

But oh, it’s tempting.

“Join me?” He blurts out, instinct taking over and sense to be damned.

Taeyong’s expression brightens like the sun’s just come up. “Really?”

Jaehyun responds by offering a hand.

Sehun isn’t working this shift. Instead, it’s a man even taller than him, with elfish ears that stick out and a mop of brown hair pushed back.

“Hey,” the guy—Chanyeol, according to his name tag—greets with a wide, friendly smile. “You’re Sehun’s friend, right?”

A short man who coincidentally sits on the same stool at the counter as Jaehyun usually does, reaches out to swat Chanyeol on the shoulder. “You sound creepy, Yeollie,” he laughs.

Chanyeol shrugs sheepishly. “Sorry, that was a bit creepy,” he admits. “Anyway. What can I get for you?”

“Just a black coffee for me,” Jaehyun replies. “What do you want, hyung?”

Taeyong perks up as he stares at the pastry display cabinet. “Chocolate cupcake, please,” he says shyly.

“Gotcha,” Chanyeol nods, ringing up the order. “Now that wasn’t so bad was it, Baekhyun?”

The short man fondly shakes his head.

After getting their orders, Jaehyun and Taeyong take seats on the other side of the counter, leaving Chanyeol and Baekhyun to flirt in peace. Taeyong seems to have a sweet tooth, what with the way he happily munches on his cupcake.

“So,” Jaehyun says through a sip of coffee. “How long have you been sleeping in the kitchen?”

“Not too long. Just a couple months,” Taeyong answers. “It’s not that bad, really. Beats having to hear Kun snore for hours on end.”

Jaehyun purses his lips in concern. The thought of soft, slender Taeyong spending cold nights on the kitchen floor doesn’t sit well with him. “You could…” Jaehyun hesitates, words caught in his throat.

Be better.

It’s not Sehun’s voice in his head this time. It’s his own.

“If you want, you could take Doyoung’s bed.”

Comically, Taeyong’s jaw falls and he drops his cupcake back onto its plate. “Oh?” He splutters, already big eyes widening even further. “A-Are you sure? Like I said, it’s really not a big deal and I can handle sleeping in the kitchen. You don’t need to push any boundaries just for me, seriously—”

“It’s okay,” Jaehyun interrupts, hiding his grin behind his mug. “It’s alright, honestly. I’m fine now.”

In truth, he doesn’t know if he’s as fine as he claims to be. Seven months after The Worst Day, it still hurts to think about Doyoung. Like a constant bruise on his chest that won’t quite fade away just yet, but it’s started to shrink with each day that passes. It’s slow and torturous and feels like it’ll never end, but Jaehyun thinks it’s okay. He’s okay.

Taeyong ducks his head down in a weak attempt to hide his blush. “That’s really sweet of you, Jaehyun. Thank you,” he murmurs.

“You can move in when we get back. I can help—oh shit, actually I can’t,” Jaehyun groans. “We’ve got a job tonight, so I’m supposed to prep with the others. Sorry, hyung.”

He doesn’t miss the way Taeyong winces at the mention of the job.

“I’m still not used to that, after all this time,” Taeyong admits. “Like I know what you all do, but actually knowing that you’re out risking your lives…it’s scary.”

Jaehyun smiles apologetically. “I know, and I’m sorry. We’re fucked up people, hyung, and there’s a good reason why I didn’t want you to get involved at first.”

And I still don’t. You should’ve ran the other way when I threw that watch at your head. You should run now.

“Thanks so much, hyung!” A woman’s voice coming from the direction of the stairs breaks him out of his reverie.

Jaehyun turns his head to see a slim woman run down the stairs, her heels clacking on every step. “Have fun!” She calls over her shoulder. “And don’t give her too many sweets!”

“Stop doubting me!” Sehun’s voice shouts down the stairs as the man himself emerges from the top, an infant in his arms.

The woman sticks her tongue out in response. She waves to Chanyeol and Baekhyun before rushing out the café.

In the back of his mind, Jaehyun notices that the woman seems rather familiar, but he’s more distracted by the sight of his friend approaching the counter.

“Hey,” Sehun grins, leaning against the counter in front of Jaehyun and Taeyong. “Sorry you had to see that, but I’m being forced to babysit my goddaughter today,” he sighs dramatically.

The infant in his arms pouts in response.

Jaehyun’s never particularly liked kids, but Mina’s rather adorable—and actually adorable, not oh-she’s-actually-ugly-as-hell-but-I-have-to-say-she’s-adorable-so-I-don’t-get-dirty-looks adorable. She seems to like Sehun a lot too, what with the way she’s clutching his shirt with her little fist.

“Was that your friend earlier? Sejeong, right?” Jaehyun asks, only slightly distracted by the way the little girl stares at him. Good god, those eyes are practically twinkling and it's fucking adorable.

“Indeed. Meet Mina: the one year old demon,” Sehun announces grandly.

Jaehyun nearly reaches a hand out to touch the side of the infant’s face, but he resists at the last second. It’s rather rude to just grab at a baby without permission, and Sehun seems pretty protective of Mina. Besides, Jaehyun’s never been good with kids anyway, and everything he touches ends up breaking. It’s better for him to not even try.

Taeyong, on the other hand, has none of the same inhibitions.

“Oh my god,” he coos, eyes practically sparkling with excitement—and no, Jaehyun does not find that cute. Not at all.

Taeyong leans closer and smiles at Mina. “Hi there, cutie,” he hums sweetly. “You’re just so adorable, aren’t you?”

Surprisingly, Sehun just laughs and rests Mina on the counter in an invitation for Taeyong to play with her. “She’s a demon, but also a cute one. Go for it,” Sehun says, completely disregarding the fact that Taeyong is a stranger and he should probably be watching over his goddaughter more carefully.

As Taeyong continues cooing over the infant and waves her hands around, Sehun turns his attention to Jaehyun. His expression isn’t quite readable, but Jaehyun doesn’t think he’s annoyed, which is a good sign. After all, the last time the two met, Sehun confessed about the death of his fiancé. Things should be more tense, but luckily the older man doesn't seem too bothered by anything.

“You haven’t come by in a while,” Sehun remarks, briefly glancing over to make sure Mina’s okay. “Busy job?”

There’s a certain edge to the way he says the word “job” that causes the warning bells to go off in Jaehyun’s head. Sehun’s always seemed to know more than he lets on, but now more than ever. Something isn’t quite right, and Jaehyun can’t put his finger on why.

But he likes Sehun, so he shoves his worries down in a ditch. “Got sick of your shitty barista skills,” Jaehyun shoots out lightheartedly. “Sorry, but this dude here makes a mean black coffee. Can’t say the same for you.”

“Don’t inflate Chanyeol-hyung’s ego any more than it already is,” Sehun retorts smoothly. And like that, their usual easygoing tempo is back.

“Who’s your friend?” Sehun tilts his head in Taeyong’s direction, the latter still absorbed in Mina.

Jaehyun coughs awkwardly. “One of my roommates. Don’t worry, he’s not shady.”

“I see,” Sehun nods.

Currently, Taeyong’s playing peekaboo with Mina, who reacts with high pitched giggles and incoherent squeaks. She really is adorable, Jaehyun thinks with a smile, and so is the man entertaining her.

Stop, a voice that unmistakably belongs to Kun scolds.

After a few minutes, Sehun checks his watch and sighs. He hoists Mina up from the counter and throws Taeyong an apologetic glance. “Sorry, but I’m supposed to take her out for some fresh air right now. Mother’s orders,” Sehun explains.

Taeyong deflates just a little, but he blows one last kiss Mina’s way. “She’s so cute,” he sighs forlornly once Sehun disappears out the door with the infant in his arms.

“Yeah,” Jaehyun finds himself agreeing. It’s hard not to agree with Taeyong.

Stop, Kun warns again.

Be better, Jaehyun retorts.

“So you went on a date?”

Jaehyun throws the remote at Sicheng’s head, which the bastard dodges with ease. “It wasn’t a date,” Jaehyun glares.

“Sounds like a date to me,” Yuta pipes up from where he’s relaxing with his head in his boyfriend’s lap. “Getting coffee is definitely a euphemism for a first date.”

“I’m going to murder you,” Jaehyun deadpans.

“Try me, you bitch.”

“Well you’re Sicheng’s bitch.”

Yuta lifts his head in indignation, ready to fight. Then he pauses as his face contorts in what Jaehyun assumes is his thinking face--can Yuta actually think, though?-- and shrugs. “Yeah, I am,” Yuta agrees, nestling down again on Sicheng’s legs.

Sicheng doesn’t even bat an eye as he continues scrolling through his phone. “Thanks, honey,” he remarks smoothly.

“Anytime, sugar.”

“And I’ve had enough,” Jaehyun decides, this time tossing a pillow the couple’s way. But of course Sicheng’s graceful as fuck and Yuta’s probably a fucking ninja, so they both evade the missile.

Feeling rather tired, Jaehyun figures he may as well try to take a nap. He’s got nothing else he needs to do until the job later that night, and it’s not like he’ll necessarily fall asleep anyway. If anyone needs him, it won’t be hard to wake him up.

As he passes by Ten and Johnny’s room, he notices the door open halfway. That in itself is strange, because back when the couple first moved in, the other occupants of the house declared that they must keep their door closed at all times in the case of any indecent activity poor Mark’s eyes could possibly be scarred by. Assuming that they must have forgotten to close the door behind them when they left, Jaehyun moves to shut it.

His fingers have only just touched the doorknob when he hears voices coming from inside the room. Agitated, upset voices that most definitely belong to Ten and Johnny. So not only did they forget to close the door, but now they’re arguing? That’s about as un-Ten and Johnny as it gets.

“You’ve got to stop,” Ten’s voice hisses in a manner completely unlike his usual cheerful demeanor.

Jaehyun freezes.

“Ten,” Johnny sighs wearily. “You know I can’t just stop like that. It’s my job.”

“Fuck the job!” Ten snaps, and it’s about the angriest Jaehyun’s ever heard the man sound. “Maybe your stupid job is your first priority, but your safety is mine. I can’t keep watching you do this to yourself.”

“I’m telling you I’m fine, okay? You don’t need to worry so much.”

Someone—presumably Ten—stomps his foot on the floor. “Don’t hit me with that bullshit, Johnny Seo. How can I not worry every time I see you charge out on a job like that? I don’t have a good feeling about this, and I think it’s about time you take a step back and think about yourself for once.”

“I’m fine,” Johnny declares with a note of finality. “I’m perfectly capable of handling things, Ten. You should know that if I’ve survived this long.”

“Just because you’re still alive now doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll be okay by tomorrow!”

A long, tension-filled pause strikes the air. Jaehyun itches to shove the door open and demand to know what’s going on, but he can’t move—can’t breathe—as he listens to the couple stand in silence.

Finally, the sound of Johnny’s tired sigh breaks the moment. “I’m sorry, Ten,” he says. “Tonight’s the last time, okay? I promise.”

Jaehyun hears the sound of rustling clothes and sniffles, which he imagines must be Johnny wrapping his arms around Ten’s smaller frame as the latter cries.

“I can’t lose you,” Ten whispers, voice muffled.

Johnny doesn’t say anything in return.

Stricken, Jaehyun mechanically removes his hand from the doorknob and soundlessly shuffles down the hall, not entirely sure of what he just heard.

In truth, he doesn’t think he wants to know, either.

(Something Jaehyun doesn’t know:

“Wait,” Johnny scrabbles desperately at Doyoung’s jacket. “You can’t do this, man.”

Doyoung merely flicks Johnny’s hands off of him, sneering down at him with disdain. “Watch me,” he snaps coldly.

Johnny drags a hand through his hair in frustration, face twisted in panic. “Doyoung, please. Don’t tell Jaehyun. I’ll be out by the morning if you want, but don’t let Jae know.”

“Why would I protect you?” Doyoung scoffs. “We didn’t trust you when you first appeared, and I don’t see what you’ve done to earn my trust since you’ve been here. Jaehyun doesn’t like you, and neither do I.”

“Fine,” Johnny wilts in defeat. “Go ahead and tell him, then. I can’t stop you. Just…just keep Ten out of this, okay? I don’t need him getting hurt because of me.”

Doyoung studies the other man with an unreadable expression. Slowly, he repeatedly curls and uncurls his hands into fists, jaw locking as he thinks.

Finally, he lifts his chin and glares at Johnny with narrowed eyes. “How about we make a deal?”)

There’s someone sitting on the bed.

Doyoung’s bed.

Automatically, Jaehyun freezes mid-step and reaches for the knife that’s always at his belt. The alarms go off in his head, shrieking Intruder at the sight of a hunched over figure perched on covers that haven’t been touched in half a year.

And then the figure stirs and shifts, and Jaehyun’s met with a familiar face.

Oh.

Now he remembers.

“You okay?” Taeyong peers cautiously at Jaehyun’s hand, which is currently gripped around the hilt of his knife.

Hastily, Jaehyun lets go of the weapon and rapidly shakes his head. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry,” he mutters. “I forgot you were moving in here.”

Immediately, Taeyong jumps off the bed. “Oh, if you’re still not comfortable then it’s okay. I can get used to Kun, so don’t push yourself too much,” he insists.

Jaehyun closes his eyes. “No, it’s alright,” he breathes out. “I’m just not used to having someone else in here. It’s…been a while.”

Taeyong regards him curiously. Lately, it’s an expression Jaehyun’s become used  to. Every time Taeyong looks at him, it’s like there are millions upon millions of question in his doe-like eyes—like he wants to know so much but doesn’t know where or how to start.

But here’s the thing: Taeyong always manages to get answers, anyway.

“Jaehyun,” he says. “Can I ask you something?”

Is it just Jaehyun, or are there hammers pounding against his skull? “Depends,” he replies.

Taeyong sits back down on Doyoung’s bed. “Why do you still kill people? After all the trauma in your past, why are you still doing something that clearly makes you unhappy?”

A bitter taste enters Jaehyun’s mouth. “Why do you still draw after people told you you’re shit?” He retorts.

Perhaps that was a bit too harsh, judging by the way Taeyong flinches. Shame washes over Jaehyun as he realizes just how unnecessary his words were.

It’s not like Taeyong asked some taboo question. In fact, it’s a perfectly reasonable thing to wonder, and Jaehyun can’t blame him for being curious. But it’s a question he’s never been faced with before, and he’s worried it’ll hurt too much to answer.

Be better.

Surprising even himself, Jaehyun crosses the room and drops down next to Taeyong. The fact that its Doyoung’s bed barely even registers in his mind as he thinks of the right words to say.

“You’re right,” he admits. “My life has been shit. It’s still shit, actually, and I don’t see that ever changing.”

“But I don’t know anything else. Maybe I could’ve escaped when I was eighteen, but that bridge has long since been burnt. Doyoung didn’t want to keep doing this and I knew he didn’t, but I didn’t listen.”

With a short, bitter laugh, he adds, “If I’d just listened, he’d still be alive.”

Taeyong bites his lip, and Jaehyun knows what that looks means and what’s coming next.

“Can I ask—”

“About Doyoung?” Jaehyun interrupts with a sad, knowing smile. “You want to know what happened to him, right?”

Taeyong ducks his head in response.

Truthfully, Jaehyun would rather die than have to live through retelling Doyoung’s death one more time. But it’s okay, he tells himself. It’s Taeyong. Kind, gentle Taeyong.

In one fluid motion, he falls down his back, lacing his fingers behind his head as a pillow. “Well,” he exhales, staring up at the ceiling. Once upon a time in a different house, seven year old Doyoung drew a picture of his dead parents and taped it up to his ceiling so he could see them before he went to bed. Once Jaehyun’s father found out, he ripped the paper off and struck Doyoung five times across the face, then Jaehyun ten for letting it happen.

Funnily enough, that was the last time Doyoung was hit. Jaehyun made sure of it.

(The three minutes that made The Worst Day the worst:

“Down, Sicheng!” Jaehyun barks, practically dragging the other man by the scruff of his neck.

A bullet flies in to the wall, inches away from Sicheng's head.

“Thanks,” Sicheng mutters quickly out of the corner of his mouth.

Jaehyun shoots down the man whose shot missed. “Thank me by getting the fuck out of here,” he snaps.

Sicheng doesn’t need to be told twice. He sprints over to the nearest window and deftly sends a bullet through the glass to shatter it, then somersaults out. Yuta and Mark follow suit.

“Nice,” Doyoung flashes a quick grin before nonchalantly taking out another guard.

“How many are left?” Jaehyun demands, swiftly turning to check in every direction.

Johnny peers over his shoulder. “I think that’s the last of them,” he lowers his gun, exhaling in relief. “C’mon, let’s follow the others.”

“Right,” Jaehyun nods, also lowering his pistol. He turns his back to his friends as he strides towards the broken window. “Yeah, let’s get the fuck out of here.”

And then he hears it.

The sound of a bullet being fired.

A piercing, banshee-like scream.

An omen of death.

Doyoung.

Jaehyun spins around to see his best friend, but Johnny’s tall frame is blocking the way. Quick as a flash, Johnny shoots the unaccounted for villain down and grabs Jaehyun’s arm with an iron fist. The next thing Jaehyun knows, Johnny’s dragging him by the arm as he hisses, “Let’s go.”

Go?

“Wait!” Jaehyun struggles desperately, but Johnny’s grip is unbreakable. “We need to get Doyoung!” He screeches, clawing to get out of the stronger man’s hold.

“Jae, it’s too late,” Johnny barks back, effortlessly hauling Jaehyun through the window and shoving him down on the ground. “If we don’t get the fuck out right now, we’ll get caught in another ambush and we’ll end up dead like him.”

“No!” Jaehyun scrabbles uselessly at the window frame as Johnny hoists him on his shoulder. “He’s not dead. He’s not dead. He’s not fucking dead!”

Doyoung, his best friend. Doyoung, the only consistent part of his life. Doyoung, the one person Jaehyun can say he loves. The best part of his life.

Dead.

Without another word, Johnny drags him away from the building.

“He can’t be dead,” Jaehyun whispers hoarsely, eyes never leaving the gray walls.

But he’s not stupid.)

“It’s my fault,” Jaehyun groans, twisting at his hair in frustration. “I let my guard down, and then he got shot. If it weren’t for me, he’d still be alive.”

At some point, Taeyong also leaned back until he too rested down on the bed, arms and shoulders pressed against Jaehyun’s. “It’s not your fault,” Taeyong murmurs gently.

“And I’m not just saying that to make you feel better,” he adds right as Jaehyun opens his mouth to counter. “Look, you couldn’t have known you were about to be ambushed, yet you still managed to get three others to safety. You thought you were safe, so you turned away. What happened to Doyoung is terrible, but you couldn’t have stopped it even if you tried.”

For months, Jaehyun spent his nights tossing and turning restlessly, mind overwhelmed with what ifs and missed opportunities.

What if he’d been smarter.

What if he’d been stronger.

What if he hadn’t turned around.

What if it had been him instead?

Yet right now, his mind can’t even come up with the same painful hypotheticals. He just wants to sleep.

Something soft and silky nestles up against his cheek. Jaehyun thinks it may be Taeyong’s hair, but he can’t be sure. Doesn’t even want to look.

Instead, he closes his eyes and breathes in a lungful of air.

You did everything you could.

He breathes out.

(Some quotes from Jaehyun’s father:

“Don’t you ever take a bullet for another man. If they can’t see it coming, they deserve it.”

“You wouldn’t want Doyoung to die for you now, would you?”

“Remember that, Yoonoh.”)

“I have a confession to make.”

Jaehyun blinks, shifting his head to glance over to the man next to him. Taeyong’s staring up at the ceiling, a small, gentle smile gracing his lips. Like he has a secret.

Not for the first time, Jaehyun thinks he’s beautiful.

“You remember that time I came up to you at the bar?” Taeyong begins.

Jaehyun snorts. “How am I supposed to forget?”

“Yeah,” Taeyong laughs lightly. “Quite a night.”

That's certainly one way to put it.

He licks his lips nervously, then says, “But that wasn’t the first time I saw you.”

Jaehyun’s so distracted by the slopes and angles of Taeyong’s profile that he almost misses the words. But once they settle in, his body jumps on high alert, tensed up and ready to run.

“What?” He demands, lifting himself up by his elbows.

Other than the light dusting of pink on his cheeks, Taeyong doesn’t look the least bit concerned. “I think it must have been what, five years ago now? I was still in college and I used to go café-hopping with my friend Taeil-hyung. One day we ended up at this place with flowers on the walls and tables, and then I saw these two men sitting together. One of them was so handsome I thought he had to be from one of my art history books.”

“I didn’t think much of it at first,” Taeyong continues, still smiling up at the ceiling. “I thought that would be the only time I ever saw him, because out of the nearly ten million people in Seoul, what were the odds I’d find him again?”

“And then I passed him by on the sidewalk one day, and I couldn’t believe my eyes at first. But he looked sad about something, and I didn’t even know him, so I didn’t say anything.”

“Then I saw him for a third time, then a fourth, then a fifth. I think it may have been the seventh time when I walked in on him kissing a girl in the bathroom of some shady bar. And the ninth time I saw him was six months ago. That was when I finally went up to him.”

Jaehyun. Can’t. Breathe.

“My friends always made fun of me, calling me a hopeless romantic and all that,” Taeyong muses. At last, he rolls over onto his side until the space between him and Jaehyun barely exists. “But I thought that if I kept on seeing you, wouldn’t that be fate?”

"And funnily enough," he adds softly. "The man I got to know turned out to be better than fate."

Slowly, Taeyong leans even closer until Jaehyun can count every individual lash on his wide eyes. He feels like his lungs have been stolen as he lies motionlessly on the bed of his dead best friend, and he can’t. Fucking. Breathe.

Taeyong’s lips have barely brushed his when suddenly, a spike of air hits Jaehyun’s chest, physically knocking him back. It’s too fast and too sudden and there’s already so much shit going on in his life, and he can’t do this. Not to himself, and not to Taeyong.

Taeyong, who has faith in stupid, cruel things like fate. Who thinks love can do more than hurt. Taeyong who still believes in good when he’s lying next to someone who kills for a living.

Jaehyun can’t ruin another person.

So he runs and doesn’t look back.

“Back so soon?”

Jaehyun barely registers Chanyeol’s greeting as he makes a beeline for the set of stairs by the counter. He nearly collides into a man holding a small child, but doesn’t stop for any more than a quick, half-hearted apology as he dashes up two steps at a time.

“Hyung!” He shouts, pounding on the door like a madman. “Sehun-hyung!”

The door swings open to reveal a confused and absolutely bewildered Sehun, jam on his white shirt and marker stains all over his arms. “Jaehyun?” He blinks, reeling back as Jaehyun barges into the apartment. “Jaehyun, what’s wrong?”

The ground collapses beneath Jaehyun’s feet, causing him to crash down on his knees, gripping his forehead in desperation to make it fucking stop.

“Dude,” Sehun yelps in concern, dropping down next to him and awkwardly rubbing his back. “Dude, what happened to you?”

Truth be told, Jaehyun isn’t quite sure how to explain. How can he explain, when Sehun couldn’t ever possibly begin to understand? When Jaehyun himself barely understands what the hell is going on.

With a sigh, Sehun hoists Jaehyun up by the shoulders and struggles to drag him over to the couch. “Mina’s dad just picked her up and now I have to deal with you. Why the fuck are you so heavy,” he grumbles under his breath as he successfully pushes Jaehyun against the cushions.

“Anyway,” Sehun sighs. “That’s not what’s important. What’s going on, Jaehyun?”

The throbbing in his head doesn’t go away, but Sehun’s voice helps subdue it a bit. In the back of his mind, Jaehyun feels guilty for always dumping his problems out to Sehun, but he’s beyond any notion of keeping it together.

“Sorry,” he musters out, slowly removing his hands from his face. He studies a coaster on the coffee table—it’s white with a pretty doe painted on the surface—and lets out a sigh. “I, well…things have just really gone to shit recently.”

“More so than usual?” Sehun remarks dryly, standing before Jaehyun with his arms crossed over his chest.

Jaehyun manages a laugh, even though it comes out twisted and choked. “Yeah,” he agrees. “More shit than ever.”

Sehun peers at him with an unreadable expression, eyes narrowed in thought. Like he’s a parent about to scold a troublesome child. He opens his mouth as if to say something, then hesitates and closes it. Then, after another second’s thought, Sehun shakes his head and says, “You know who you remind me of, Jung Jaehyun?”

That was certainly not what Jaehyun was expecting. “No?” He tilts his head in confusion.

“Lu Han,” Sehun states matter-of-factly.

Now that was most definitely unexpected. “What?” Jaehyun blinks.

Gingerly, Sehun takes a seat on the coffee table so he’s facing his visitor. “Obviously hyung was a hell of a lot prettier than you and your emo ass, but sometimes I think that if I just close my eyes, I could almost believe that I’m talking to him instead of you."

Before Jaehyun can interrupt, Sehun holds up a hand to stop him. “Remember how I said I don’t think it was a suicide,” Sehun says, waiting for Jaehyun to give a nod before continuing. “If you were to ask me right now, I’d still say it wasn’t. But if you ask me a second time, I would say that I don’t know.”

The headache starts creeping back in. “What does that mean?”

Sehun purposefully averts his gaze. “The last time I saw him alive,” he begins heavily, “he suddenly kissed me before I left the hotel room. Literally grabbed me by the collar and kissed the fucking daylights out of me. Then when he was done, he just stood there staring at me. I asked him what was wrong, and all he said was that he loved me.”

“I guess I wrote that off as him being in a weird mood, so I told him I loved him back and left. Fifteen minutes later, he had a bullet in his head.”

“But still,” Sehun continues. “The way it all went down…I don’t know how or why, but I felt like Lu Han knew something I didn’t. He wouldn’t have just kissed me like that randomly, that’s for sure. Maybe I’m wrong, but it felt like a goodbye of sorts.”

“So maybe it was a suicide after all. Because when I think about it, Lu Han seemed to have known that that would be the last time he saw me.”

The throbbing in Jaehyun’s head disappears, instead replaced by icy waves traveling through his body from head to toe. “How can you live with that?” He whispers, voice cracking through each syllable. “Doesn’t it kill you, not knowing the truth?”

Sehun shrugs. “Of course it does,” he admits. “But what can I do? That was five and a half years ago, Jaehyun. I can’t just jump into a time machine and find out what really happened. The coroner’s report says its a suicide, and that’s what I have to say when people ask where my husband is.”

He lifts his left hand up, the ring gleaming on his fourth finger. “Chanyeol-hyung once suggested that I stop wearing this, and I would’ve throttled him had Sejeong not held me back. I know what my friends think every time they see me wearing this—they feel sorry, but they also want to tell me to let him go—and I’ve stopped caring. I can’t care anymore, Jaehyun. Not when I feel so numb inside every single day.”

“I used to lie to my therapists all the time. Tell them I’m okay and moving on, or that I’ve cleared all his stuff away when that,” Sehun jerks his chin over the shelf of Lu Han’s memories, “is right there. I lie to myself a lot too, trying to act like I’m alright and not rattled to the fucking bone. The worst part is that lying worked for a while, but you know what stopped that?”

Jaehyun already has a guess, and it’s not one that he likes.

“Me,” he responds quietly.

Sehun nods grimly. “You remind me a lot of myself, Jae, but even worse, you remind me of him. That first day you came in, you had this look on your face I’d seen before. That one where you’re already half dead and know it, but you’ve got to keep a strong front on so people don’t worry. You were so obviously hiding something, and I wanted to talk to you because secrets are fucking dangerous. I know they are, because secrets killed Lu Han.”

“Since day one, you’ve made it explicitly clear that your life sucks. And I don’t doubt that, because whatever happened to you had to have been especially shitty to make you this broken. But Jaehyun,” Sehun leans forward, locking eyes with an intense stare. “You’re not doing yourself any favors by accepting defeat. You want to be better? Then you need to do more than tell half-truths and feel sorry for yourself.”

Completely at a loss for words, Jaehyun can only watch as Sehun pushes himself off the table and makes his way over to the shelf on the wall, shoulders slouched with burden. He picks up one of the picture frames—one of Lu Han grinning at the camera while Sehun secretly stares at him with tender eyes—and grips it so hard his knuckles whiten.

“This is the life we could’ve had,” he murmurs. “The life I wanted more than anything.”

With a sad smile, he meets Jaehyun’s stony gaze and says, “But that life isn’t real.”

Not for the first time that day, the world spins overwhelmingly quickly and everything rushes to his head all at once. But Jaehyun doesn’t want to run anymore.

“There’s someone who has feelings for me,” he says. “And I like him, too. At least, I think I do.”

Sehun raises a brow. “You think?” He parrots back skeptically.

“It’s not that complicated,” Jaehyun admits. “It’s easy being kind to him, because he’s so warm. He makes me feel comfortable talking about myself, when I can’t even begin to tell anyone else. I want to tell him things, because it’s so easy with him.”

“But at the same time, I’m too much of a coward to get any closer.”

“Let me guess: You think you’re unworthy of love because of everything that’s happened to you, and you’re too afraid of breaking him?” Sehun remarks.

Oddly enough, hearing those words lifts a weight off Jaehyun’s chest. “See?” He offers a small, broken smile. “It’s not that complicated.”

“So why am I so afraid?”

(Another quote from Jaehyun’s father:

“Love is the worst fucking thing to ever happen to mankind.”)

“Yo.”

Jaehyun very nearly trips over thin air. “What the fuck?” He screeches.

Sicheng waves. “Kun-ge said you might be here,” he replies flippantly, raising a brow at his friend. “Mind telling us what’s going on?” He gestures to Mark, who’s apparently been standing next to him the whole time but Jaehyun didn’t notice until now.

Leave it to Sicheng to be as straight to the point and no nonsense as ever. Chuckling lightly, Jaehyun throws one arm around Sicheng’s shoulder and the other around Mark’s and says, “Don’t worry about it, I’m okay now.”

Mark pouts. “Hyung, why do you always lie?” he mumbles. “You can trust us, you know.”

Again, Jaehyun almost trips over nothing. He knows that the older squad members don’t always buy his bullshit, but he never realized that Mark was aware of it, too. Just how transparent was he, that even the most optimistic member could be brought down by his shifting moods?

Sicheng seems to pick up on Jaehyun’s unease. Sighing, he claps a hand down on Mark’s head and demands more than says, “Run ahead, Mark.”

“Huh?” Mark jerks his head up, gaze bewildered. “What, why?”

“Go,” Sicheng commands authoritatively. “Run back home and tell the others that we found him and everything’s okay. We still have that job tonight, and it’s better to make sure everyone else is prepared and not worried over Jae’s whereabouts.”

Mark frowns in displeasure, but then he nods in defeat. Unexpectedly, he throws his arms around Jaehyun’s shoulders and hugs him tight, squeezing him for good measure.

“Talk to me later, hyung,” he whispers before jogging off down the sidewalk.

Sicheng watches him fondly, any signs of strictness erased from his face. “That kid doesn’t deserve this life,” he comments forlornly.

“Yeah,” Jaehyun agrees.

The two walk back to the house in silence, Sicheng a few steps ahead. The silence is so thick that Jaehyun distracts himself by attempting to make his steps fall in and out of sync with Sicheng’s, then by studying the other man’s back.

“The kid’s not wrong, though,” Sicheng speaks up without even turning around, jolting Jaehyun’s concentration out of focus. “You don’t need to lie to us so much, Jaehyun.”

Instead of anger or denial rushing through his blood, Jaehyun only feels resignation. “I know,” he admits.

Sicheng pauses briefly to cast a narrow-eyed glance over his way. “Then stop,” he deadpans. “Stop hiding all the time. We all care about you, so stop feeling like you can’t tell us when you’re not alright. Because you’ve been getting worse and worse at shielding your emotions, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’re far from okay.”

Jaehyun keeps his eyes on his shoes. “How’s Taeyong-hyung?” He changes the subject.

“He’s fine,” Sicheng side eyes him again. “Didn’t tell us what happened, but from I understand he’s your new roommate? You let him in, and now he’s done something to scare you away again?”

A pang of guilt hits him in the chest. “It’s not his fault,” Jaehyun murmurs. “I wasn’t in the right state of mind, but I swear I’m okay now. I’ll talk to him when we get back.”

“No you won’t,” Sicheng clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “In case you’ve forgotten, we have a job in less than an hour. Besides, I think Taeyong-hyung already fell asleep, so unless you want to be that shitty person who wakes him up, I’d suggest you talk to him in the morning.”

“Besides,” he adds as an afterthought. “I don’t think he’s mad at you. He seemed a little sad, but mostly worried. You’ll be fine.”

Hearing words of encouragement from the usually reserved Sicheng greatly reassures Jaehyun’s guilty conscience. “Thanks, Sicheng,” he says. And he means it.

Sicheng turns his head the other way, but Jaehyun still catches the smug smile on his lips. “I’m always here for you,” Sicheng says.

(Spoiler:

Not for much longer.)

Sure enough, Taeyong is fast asleep when Jaehyun sneaks into their shared room. He thought it would be jarring to have someone else in Doyoung’s bed after months of it being untouched, but instead it’s rather comforting to see Taeyong tucked into the covers, blanket all the way up to his chin.

Jaehyun quietly pulls his black shirt and track pants—typical clothes for jobs—out of the closet, sneaking glances over every now and then to make sure that Taeyong isn’t roused. He manages to change and slip his guns and knives into their holsters and sheathes without waking the new roommate, and he’s about to slip out when suddenly, on an impulse, he bends down to press a kiss to Taeyong’s temple.

It’s brief and quick as a flash, but Jaehyun hopes it’s enough.

The plea is barely out of Park Jinyoung’s mouth when Jaehyun sends a bullet through his heart.

Johnny whistles lowly. “Well that was uneventful,” he remarks, slackening his grip on his gun. “Rather unlike you to cut to the chase so quickly, Jae,”

Jaehyun merely shrugs, not wanting to admit that he’s been itching to get this job done so he can go back home to his room and see Taeyong. “This job is getting boring,” he says instead. “We go taunt the target, they deny everything and beg for their life, then we kill them anyway. Figured I’d skip the second part and just cut to the chase.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” Johnny lifts his arms in defense. “I’m glad you finished quickly, actually. I’m pretty tired after looking for you for an hour.”

Hesitantly, Jaehyun places his gun back in its holster. “I’m sorry for making everyone worry. Really, I am.”

A flash of some unreadable emotion crosses Johnny’s face. “Hey, Jae?” He steps forward. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

Johnny opens his mouth, then suddenly blanches. “Jaehyun,” he says slowly, raising a finger to point at something on the wall. “What’s that?”

Dread fills his stomach as he whirls around to face whatever Johnny’s point out.

Park Jinyoung’s office is cluttered and messy, and every inch of the walls is covered in posters and picture frames. Most of them consist of random celebrities, but the poster of some idol right behind Park Jinyoung’s desk has something scribbled on it in bright red lettering.

Jung Yoonoh

Next time, check to make sure nobody followed you.

At that moment, Mark bursts into the office, flushed and out of breath. “Hyungs!” He shouts, eyes wide with fear. “Sicheng and Yuta are being bombarded!”

Sure enough, the sound of a gunshot echoes from the next room.

Since the age of five, Jaehyun’s been trained to be an assassin.

He threw knives by age six. Shot his first gun by seven. Killed a man by ten. Murdered his father by eighteen.

In short, he knows exactly how to fight and react and kill. The second the words fly out of Mark’s mouth, Jaehyun’s body moves on its own as he sprints out the office and down the hall to the main shop—the last place he remembers Sicheng and Yuta to be.

Blood splatters across the walls as Sicheng takes out a man with his face covered by ski mask. Several bodies already lay on the floor in pools of blood, but luckily neither Sicheng nor Yuta appear to be gravely hurt.

Yuta, however, looks worse for wear as he kneels on the floor, clutching his right thigh. His hand is covered in blood from his bullet wound, and judging by the twisted set to his mouth, he needs to get out of here, fast.

“Down, Jae!” Yuta barks through gritted teeth.

Instinctively, Jaehyun ducks down as Yuta raises his gun, shooting someone who’d managed to sneak up behind Jaehyun undetected.

“How many?” Jaehyun shouts, quickly surveying the shop before dashing over to hide behind the register.

“Not too many,” Yuta hisses through the pain. “The first bastard got me, but Mark took care of him. Just hurry up so we can get the hell out of here.”

Jaehyun doesn’t need to be told twice.

The next few minutes pass in a blur, with more and more men in ski masks flooding through the door and windows. Jaehyun gets lost in the flurry of bullets, shooting one man down before quickly gunning the next. At some point he thinks he sees Mark and Johnny through all the chaos, stabbing and shooting into as many intruders as possible.

One man singles him out and approaches him with quick steps. Jaehyun cocks his gun, but horror fills his gut as he pulls the trigger and is greeted with an empty click. Swearing loudly, he fumbles around his pockets to try and find more ammunition, already knowing that he doesn’t have time to refill even if there were any.

“About damn time, Yoonoh,” the masked man sneers, reaching out and forcefully grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.

Desperately, Jaehyun lifts his gun up and strikes down on the man’s wrist, effectively releasing himself from his hold. “Fuck you,” he spits. “That’s not my fucking name, either.”

The man merely cackles. “That’s what you tell yourself, huh?”

Jaehyun freezes with a hand on the hilt of his knife. His veins freeze to ice as the man continues to laugh, the cruelty of the sound twisting into his chest with every passing second.

Who is he, and what does he know?

Before Jaehyun can even move, the man’s eyes suddenly widen and he falls to the side, the point of a knife sticking through his chest as Mark appears from behind the fallen body.

“Hey, hyung,” Mark holds out a hand. “It’s over. We should run now before any more get here.”

Still shaken to his core, Jaehyun barely registers the boy’s hand and unsteadily rises to his feet on his own.

Yoonoh.

It’s nearing on eight years since Jaehyun killed his demon, but apparently he didn’t erase his whole past when he pulled the trigger.

Yoonoh

His father’s voice echoes through his mind, taunting him with a wicked laugh.

You can’t run, Yoonoh.

“Hyung!” Mark waves a hand in front of Jaehyun’s face. “Hyung, we have to go. Come on.”

“Yes,” Jaehyun nods breathlessly. He shakes his head a few times, forcing that damned voice out until it’s just a whisper. “Yeah, let’s go.”

And then he hears it.

The sound of a bullet being fired.

A piercing, banshee-like scream.

An omen of death.

Slowly, he turns around, already expecting the worst. A scream like that can only mean one thing. He’s not stupid.

But all the knowledge in the world can’t prepare him for the sight of Yuta with tears streaming down his face as he clutches a lifeless, blood-stained body.

Sicheng.

Chapter Text

2000

“He’s scary,” Sejeong whispers, doing her best to hide behind her best friend.

Sehun swallows, but he vows to be tough and make her feel less afraid. “I’m sure he’s nice,” he reasons. “Come on, let’s go talk to him.”

Sejeong pouts, her grip on the back of his shirt tightening. “He’s tall and scary,” she points out.

She’s not lying. Sehun is scrawny and of average height for a six year old, while Sejeong’s still a tiny four year old. Lu Han, however, is ten, and he’s tall and long-legged and looks so big as he concentrates on juggling a football. He’s wearing some red jersey with the number seven on the back, and even though it’s loose and baggy he’s not swimming in the fabric. Lu Han looks so old and mature, and Sehun understands why Sejeong is afraid.

“He probably doesn’t want to hang out with us because we’re too little,” Sejeong adds nervously.

Sehun gulps again, but musters out a smile anyway. “You wait here and I’ll go talk to him first then, okay?” He holds out his pinky, says, “And if he’s actually mean, then I promise we don’t have to hang out with him again. Deal?”

Gleefully, Sejeong links her pinky through his. “Deal!”

With one last reassuring grin, Sehun turns to face his target and immediately feels overwhelmed with a sense of dread. Sending a quick prayer through his thoughts, he shakily steps forward before he loses his bravery.

Lu Han is so absorbed in his juggling that he doesn’t notice the presence of the other boy behind him. Sehun bites his lip, wondering if he made the right decision after all.

It’s not too late to turn back.

But then Sejeongie will think I’m a loser.

Who cares what she thinks; she’s four!

But she’s your best friend.

Well—

The next thing Sehun knows, a football collides with his face.

“Oh my god!” A voice that he thinks belongs to Lu Han’s yelps. Hands grip onto his shoulders and pull him up—huh, when did he even fall to the ground in the first place?—while shaking him desperately.

“I’m so sorry, Sehun. Please don’t tell my mom or else she’ll kill me. Are you okay? Blink twice if you can hear me!” Lu Han rambles in accented Korean, already big eyes even wider in anxiety.

Sehun, however, is distracted by a tuft of black hair that’s sticking straight up. It makes Lu Han look kinda funny; like a unicorn or something.

“Your hair,” Sehun giggles deliriously.

Lu Han stares at him in bemusement. “What?”

His voice is much higher than expected, and that makes him seem less intimidating. Without thinking twice, Sehun reaches up and tugs on that one tuft. “Your hair is so funny,” he comments whimsically.

Sejeong, who at some point appeared by his side, just sighs. “Hyung is crazy,” she very solemnly tells Lu Han.

“Yeahhhhh,” Lu Han nods slowly. “I figured.”

2001

Lu Han grimaces. “Sehun, don’t you dare do this,” he warns, voice low and threatening.

Sejeong rapidly nods her head in agreement. “You’ll get hurt, hyung!” She shouts, her little hands cupped around her mouth.

From where he is up in the tree, Sehun turns around to stick his tongue out. “You can’t stop me!” He calls down before continuing to scale up the branches.

Lu Han lets out a loud groan. “I swear to god, Oh Sehun, if you’re not down right now I’ll kill you! And I’ll already be dead because your mom’s gonna kill me!”

“So what?” Sehun shoots back sassily.

Lu Han responds with something in Chinese that Sehun doesn’t think he wants to understand, judging by the malice in the older boy’s voice.

In all honesty, he’s not too sure how they ended up in this current position. It’s Lu Han’s last day in Seoul before heading back to Beijing for school, and the three of them went to the park together with Sejeong’s parents. One minute they’d been munching on sandwiches, and then Lu Han made some wayward comment about finding it super cool when people could climb trees. And because Sehun wasn’t exactly the most careful person in the world, he immediately puffed up his chest at the thought of impressing his Lu Han-hyung and scurried off to scale the nearest tree.

Truth be told, Sehun’s not the biggest fan of heights. He’s climbed a tree maybe twice in his life, and Sejeong’s much more athletic and naturally strong than he is. Still, none of that stops him from trying to appear tough.

“Hyung!” Sejeong yells. “You’re doing it wrong! Come down before you fall!”

Bristling at the thought of being critiqued by a younger girl, Sehun boldly reaches for the next branch and hoists himself up—only for his sweaty palms to slip and grasp at nothing.

When he opens his eyes, he’s flat on his back while Lu Han frantically shakes him, eyes brimming with tears.

“You idiot!” Lu Han screams, voice trembling despite the shrillness. “You little brat! I told you not to climb, and you did anyway—you scared me so much, Sehun!”

Dreamily, Sehun wonders if this—Lu Han doting on him following a near death experience—is heaven.

Sejeong, on the other hand, doesn’t seem quite as impressed. “It wasn’t that high up,” she points out.

And that’s when Sehun knows that whatever this is, it sure as hell isn’t heaven. “Hey!” He shouts indignantly, shooting her a glare. “You sounded worried, too!”

“Only because you’re stupid!”

“Alright, settle down,” Lu Han chastises, patting both kids on the tops of their heads. His voice still shakes though, and Sehun doesn’t miss the subtle way Lu Han blinks his tears away.

“You really did scare me though, Sehunnie. Next time you’d better listen to me, okay?” Lu Han remarks sternly.

Ignoring Sejeong’s judgmental stare, Sehun gives Lu Han a weak thumbs up. “Anything for you, hyung,” he responds.

Sejeong shakes her head. “Embarassing,” she mutters under her breath.

Sehun aims a kick at her shin.

2002

“Have you ever kissed someone?”

Lu Han doesn’t even flinch. “That’s none of your business, brat,” he says, keeping his eyes locked on the TV.

Sehun frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He demands indignantly, springing up out of his seat.

“You’re blocking the screen,” Sejeong complains, throwing a piece of popcorn at his head.

“I wanna know!” Sehun shouts. He points an accusing finger at Lu Han, declares, “I’m old enough to know about kissing!”

Lu Han laughs. “You’re only eight, Sehunnie. You don’t even know what a girl is.”

Sehun raises an unimpressed brow and redirects his pointed finger to Sejeong, who remains unbothered as she happily munches on popcorn and watches the show.

And besides, Sehun thinks to himself. Who said anything about a girl? Sehun prefers the way Lu Han looks to any girl he’s ever seen.

Lu Han just rolls his eyes and swats Sehun back down. “Trust me, brat. You’re way too young.”

Grumbling to himself, Sehun petulantly crosses his arms and frowns. “Such a bully,” he sniffs.

“You’ll grow up eventually, kid,” Lu Han shoots back.

Secretly, Sehun thinks that it wouldn’t be too bad to kiss Lu Han. Maybe even on his first.

Yeah, he’d really like that.

“Hyung, why are you smiling?” Sejeong asks, tilting her head in curiosity to inspect her friend’s giddy smile.

“You’re too young to understand, Sejeongie,” Sehun responds dreamily, head in the clouds as he imagines what it would be like to kiss Lu Han.

Sejeong frowns, then shrugs and returns her attention to her popcorn.

2005

Hey Sehun! (and Sejeong too because I know she’s probably there)

Sorry for the late notice, but I won’t be coming to Korea this summer. High school entrance exams are coming up and I gotta study hard. It sucks, but I need to do well.

We should definitely keep in touch though! I can’t promise constant letters or phone calls because I’ll be buried in piles of textbooks, but I’ll try to reply.

Pray for me, man. If I die this summer, you’ll know why.

-Lu Han

True to his word, Lu Han’s mother comes to Korea alone that summer. Sehun writes a letter every day, telling Lu Han about all the misadventures he and Sejeong get into. He spills his heart into those letters, babbling on and on about the pet fish he and Sejeong win at a festival, his best time at running a mile, the new pastry shop that opened up across the street, the fight he and his second best friend Jongin got into over something they don’t even remember…

Every Saturday, he gathers the week’s worth of letters together—sometimes Sejeong chips in too—and mails them in one large envelope. He checks the mailbox daily, excited to hear about Lu Han’s summer. At night, Sehun’s dreams are consumed with scenes of Beijing. He wants to taste the Peking duck Lu Han always talks about and visit the palaces and Great Wall. Most of all, he just wants to be with Lu Han.

Oddly enough, Sehun never gets a single reply.

2006

Lu Han doesn’t come the next summer, either. But this time, he doesn’t even bother telling them in advance.

2008

Dear Lu Han,

Lu Han-hyung

Lu Han,

Hi…

Hello, hyung,

I know it’s been  four years  a while since you last came back, but I thought I might as well ask what your summer plans are for next year. High school doesn’t sound like much fun, so I get if you’re stressed and all and don’t have time to visit.

Sejeongie and I are doing alright. It’s crazy to think that I’m about to start high school. I don’t feel ready at all, and it’ll be weird to be there while Sejeong’s still in her second year of middle school. I’m gonna miss seeing her every day, but luckily I still have friends. Jongin, Soojung, and Jinri are nervous too, so Taemin-hyung offered to show us around on the first day.

Any tips for high school?  How’s Beijing? My mom says that we might go one year to visit you guys  instead of you coming here all the time,  but it doesn’t sound like that’ll happen for a while.  Maybe I’ll apply to a university there!

Anyway. I’ve been thinking about you a lot, and I hope you’ll visit again next summer.  I miss you, hyung.

Love Sincerely Yours truly From I love you  Sehun

P.S. I heard about United’s Champions League victory. You must be happy, so congratulations!

2009

“Extra pillows are in the closet,” Sehun says, plopping down the two heavy duffel dugs on top of his bed.

Lu Han nods wearily. “Yeah,” he murmurs quietly. “I remember.”

“Really?” Sehun laughs, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “You haven’t been here in years.”

Cruel satisfaction courses through his veins at the way Lu Han flinches. Sehun knows it’s unfair, but he can’t help but want to hit Lu Han everywhere it hurts after hearing nothing for three years.

“Sehun,” Lu Han sighs, tiredly dragging a hand through his hair. “Can we not do this right now? I just want this to be a nice summer.”

Since he was six, Lu Han has always been the prettiest person in Sehun’s eyes. But perhaps distance truly does make the heart grow fonder, because now Lu Han is downright beautiful—more than ever before. He’s definitely skinnier, which must be because of stress. But his cheeks are still soft and his eyes still large, and now his hair is dyed a light brown that makes him look even more deer-like than ever. Age has worn away the childish innocence in his expression, as he’s now stony-faced and world-weary. In two years, he’s matured from a fawn to beautiful doe.

Still. Sehun is angry, and he’s not willing to change that until he gets some answers.

Letting out a harsh laugh, he snaps, “A nice summer, huh? You mean like the past three where I wrote so many fucking letters and got nothing in response?”

Lu Han doesn’t flinch this time, and that only spurs Sehun on even more. He shot up in height over the past year, and now he stands several inches taller than Lu Han. Somehow, the older man doesn’t seem quite so untouchable anymore.

Sehun takes a step closer, and Lu Han instinctively moves back. “Do you even know how stupid I felt?” Sehun demands. “I sent you so many letters, and you didn’t even bother sending anything back even though you were the one who suggested it in the first place. I knew I was a fucking fool, but I kept sending you letters anyway because I held on to this stupid hope that you’d bother replying. Clearly you never cared that much, or else you would’ve!”

“I’m sorry, Hun,” Lu Han hangs his head in shame.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” Sehun snorts. “It’s been three years, hyung. You couldn’t have written one letter or at least called? What’s wrong with you?”

Lu Han’s head snaps up. Angrily, he says, “The world doesn’t revolve around you, you know!”

He shoves Sehun square in the chest. It’s not enough force to hurt, but it sends Sehun reeling back in shock as he, for the first time, wonders if maybe he’d overreacted.

“I know I should’ve responded and I’m sorry for that, but did it ever occur to you that I’m going through my own shit?” Lu Han snarls, pushing Sehun back again as his eyes flare up in anger. “I was studying my ass off the first summer, then I had to work and go to cram school the next! And last year I—“

Lu Han cuts himself off before he can finish his sentence. He shakes his head sadly and mutters in a much calmer tone, “Never mind last year. Sehun, I’m so sorry I didn’t call or write. I really am.”

“But…” Lu Han trails off. “Things weren’t great these past few years. I needed some time to myself, and talking to a younger kid I only see during the summers wasn’t the first thing on my mind. I got all of your letters, but I didn’t even have the time to read them because of everything going on. And even when I did I just felt so tired and couldn’t do anything. I’m sorry, Sehun, but I’ve had my own problems these past few years.”

A wave of guilt hits Sehun like a truck, and he’s never felt younger or more immature than this very moment. Lu Han’s right, he thinks dimly. All this time Sehun was throwing a tantrum over unopened letters, but he’d never stopped to think how Lu Han was doing.

Maybe Lu Han should’ve called or written. Maybe he was a little in the wrong. But that didn’t change the fact that Sehun reacted on purely selfish impulses.

All this time, he’d reasoned that he loved Lu Han too much to be met with radio silence. But perhaps fifteen is still too young to know anything about love.

Lu Han sighs. “I’m sorry for everything, Sehunnie. It’s…well, it’s a pretty long story, and I just need some sleep.”

“It’s okay,” Sehun rushes through his words. “I’m not mad anymore, hyung. I overreacted, and I’m sorry too for blowing up at you your first day back. Besides, we have a whole summer to talk about how you’re doing, so don’t strain yourself.”

A small smile tugs at Lu Han’s lips. “Actually,” he grins. “We’ve got four years.”

Sehun nods, then stiffens and does a double take. “What!” He exclaims, fearing that his ears were deceiving him. “Four years?”

Lu Han just smiles. He reaches into his pocket and takes out a folded piece of paper. “I thought I’d surprise you with the news tomorrow, but considering we’ve just let out our feelings I think we should end on a good note,” he says, pushing the paper into Sehun’s hands.

Trembling, Sehun unfolds the paper and takes in the words on the page.

Yonsei University

His jaw drops. “Yonsei?” Sehun yelps, eyes as wide as dinner plates. “One of top three?! You?”

“Oi!” Lu Han punches him on the shoulder. “You think I’m stupid? My whole high school life was spent on the books!”

“T-this is incredible!” Sehun splutters, still unable to believe the news. “I didn’t know you were applying here!”

Lu Han shrugs. “Well I wasn’t just thinking about Korea. I applied to a bunch of places back home and a couple schools in Japan, but Yonsei and Beida were the best ones I got into. I swear I almost said yes to Beida, but then I realized I really do miss Korea. Plus my boyfriend also got in so I thought I may as well.”

Boyfriend.

Boyfriend?

Sehun can hear his heart turn to glass and shatter, piercing his ribcage with pointed shards. “Boyfriend?” He repeats, dumbfounded. “I didn’t know you were dating, hyung.”

To be completely honest, Sehun also had no idea Lu Han was interested in men. All this time Sehun had been resigned to his fate of being Lu Han’s younger Korean summer friend for life, reassured by the thought that the older boy was straight. But now that he’s found out about Lu Han’s tastes…well…

“Oh yeah,” Lu Han says, turning around to unpack his duffel bags. “His name is Yifan. He transferred last year from Canada, and he also appreciates Korean culture a lot so he applied to Yonsei. You should meet him some time—maybe the two of you could play basketball, now that you’ve gotten so tall.”

Yifan. Canada. Basketball. Must be smart too, if he got into Yonsei.

Sehun can feel his already slim chances slipping away even more.

“What does he looks like?” He wonders timidly.

“Hmm,” Lu Han fishes his wallet out of his pocket. He pulls out a picture and holds it up, says, “This is us at graduation. He’s pretty fucking tall though, so it was annoying to take pictures.”

Yifan. Canada. Basketball. Smart. Tall. Hot. Appropriately aged.

Sehun is well and truly fucked.

2010

As it so turns out, his first kiss isn’t with Lu Han.

It’s with Sejeong.

They’re hanging out at Sehun’s one evening, quarreling as they attempt to bake a cake for his mother’s birthday. Sejeong teases him for forgetting to add eggs to the cake mix, so naturally he responds by cracking an egg on top of her head. She blinks, momentarily stunned before she breaks into a beaming smile and retaliates by squirting chocolate sauce onto his face.

“I hate you!” Sejeong laughs as she dodges another egg.

“Sucks, bitch!” Sehun retorts, this time manning to slap a handful of flour on her cheek.

Suddenly, the sound of a throat being cleared brings them to a halt. “Baking, huh?” Sehun’s father raises an amused brow.

Sehun smiles sheepishly.

“Just clean it up,” his father flippantly waves a hand as he wanders out the kitchen. “And be sure to actually make a cake, you troublemakers.”

After Sehun’s father disappears upstairs, Sejeong lets out a laugh. “I was so scared for a second,” she giggles, not caring about the egg yolk in her hair and flour on her face.

Unlike most of the girls in Sehun’s class, she laughs unabashedly and doesn’t cover her mouth with her hand. She’s always been that way. Sejeong is pure and cheerful without being naive, and she’s so warm it’s hard to not be charmed.

Unlike Lu Han, she’s not blinding. She’s just bright.

On impulse, Sehun bends down and presses his lips to hers.

Sejeong startles, hastily scrambling back against the counter with a shocked and confused expression.

And like that, the spell’s broken.

“H-hyung,” she begins, shakily taking a breath. “Hyung, you shouldn’t have done that.”

Sehun resists the urge to kick himself. “Yeah, I shouldn’t have,” he admits guiltily. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and shamefully turns his head to the side. “I’m sorry, Sejeongie. I was confused.”

Because before he kissed her, he’d wished she were bright enough to blind.

She bites her lip, watching him with a conflicted expression. Finally, she sighs and takes a step forward, placing a hand on his shoulder—it’s probably a little funny looking, Sehun can’t but think, because she’s so much shorter than him but somehow, she’s always found a way to stare on level ground.

“Hey,” Sejeong says. “It’s alright, hyung. I get it.”

She doesn’t have to say anything for Sehun to know what—or whom—she’s talking about. The worst part is that he can’t even deny it.

“We should clean up,” she declares, letting go of him to survey the mess in the kitchen. “I don’t think your dad will let us off the hook again.”

Sehun doesn’t say anything else.

Lu Han’s voice crackles through the phone. “What’s up, Sehun? I only have a few minutes before my exam.”

Twisting the phone cord between his fingers, Sehun nervously surveys his surroundings. Once he’s decided the coast is clear—his parents are busy cooking and Sejeong isn’t here for once—he lowers his voice and whispers, “I had my first kiss.”

The unmistakable clatter of Lu Han dropping his phone rings out. “What?” Lu Han guffaws once he’s picked it up. “That’s what this emergency is about?”

Embarrassed, Sehun ducks his head even though Lu Han can’t see him. “Yeah,” he mumbles.

“Well, shit. Who’s the lucky guy or girl?”

Sehun hesitates. “Sejeong.”

“No way!”

“Yeah…” Sehun trails off, guilt washing over him at the mere thought of Sejeong’s stricken expression. “She didn’t exactly like it, though.”

“Oh?”

“Rejection.”

“Ah. I see.”

“Yeah.”

The line falls silent. Sehun can hear Lu Han’s panting as he presumably hurries to his exam, and he immediately regrets ever dialing the number in the first place. What did he think he would accomplish, calling the guy he’s maybe-maybe not been majorly crushing on for years? It’s not like Sehun’s even sad about getting rejected—quite the opposite, in fact—but he’s only upset about making his best friend since forever uncomfortable.

The truth is, Sehun doesn’t even think he kissed her because he genuinely had feelings for her. He did it because it would be convenient if he liked her and not the person he's currently on the phone with.

So what’s he doing now?

“Hey,” Lu Han speaks up again. “I gotta go, but it’s alright, Hun. You two are close enough that this won’t change things, and you’re still only sixteen. You’ve got plenty of time to find your one true love, or whatever it is kids call it these days.”

The words do the opposite of comforting Sehun. “Thanks, hyung,” he mutters.

A surge of confidence hits him right as he’s about to hang up. “What about you?” Sehun blurts out.

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“Have you found your one true love yet?” Sehun cringes internally at how obvious he sounds—not to mention desperate, too.

Lu Han doesn’t say anything for what feels like an eternity. When he does, it’s nothing less than expected.

“I have to go, Sehun.”

2011

Rushing through the halls as fast as he can, Sehun bursts into Lu Han’s apartment and shouts, “What’s happening, hyung?”

“Oh. Sehun,” Lu Han mumbles. He’s sitting on the floor with his knees hugged to his chest, face hidden. “You actually came.”

Sehun frowns. When Lu Han called half an hour ago, his voice sounded upset as he anxiously asked Sehun if he had some time to stop by. Now, he sounds calm—too calm, actually. Like there’s something hiding under the surface, ready to implode if prodded too much.

“Hyung?” Sehun immediately strides over and kneels down next to Lu Han’s defensive form. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Lu Han exhales loudly. “Sorry for calling you over like this, Sehunnie,” he mumbles. “I panicked, but it’s okay now. Don’t worry about me.”

Frown deepening, Sehun gently pries at Lu Han’s arms. “Come on, hyung. You wouldn’t have called if something weren’t wrong. Tell me what’s going on.”

Stubbornly, Lu Han only strengthens his grip around his knees. “Forget it. I overreacted, okay? Just like that time you yelled at me for not writing back. Let’s forget this like that time and just move on with our lives.”

“Hyung—“

“Drop it,” Lu Han snarls.

Normally, hearing Lu Han snap at him would be enough to shut Sehun up. But he just ditched cram school to run all the way over here, and he sure as hell won’t be leaving until he finds out what’s wrong with Lu Han.

“You know what your problem is?” Sehun blurts out. “You’re a fucking coward, hyung. You keep pushing people away whenever they show you any kindness, and you’re too afraid to admit that maybe you’re not okay. I don’t know what’s going on inside your head, but I do know that if you aren’t alright, you’ll never admit it out loud. And I get that it’s hard to seek help sometimes, but why are you so insistent against it?

Judging by the way Lu Han bristles, Sehun knows he’s crossed a line. But at this point, he’s lost any and all regard for his own safety because he just wants Lu Han to open up to him.

“Remember when you finally came back that one summer?” Sehun continues, barging across any more lines Lu Han’s set up. “You said you had a long story about what you’d been going through and that you’d tell me, but you never did. I always wondered what that story was, but I didn’t ask because I thought you weren’t comfortable telling me. I respected your decision because I thought things were going better for you, but you’ve been changing, hyung. Now that you’ve been here for three years, I can see that something isn’t right.”

“So what’s going on, Lu Han? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I just need you to admit that you’re not okay.”

There are a number of ways Sehun can see this playing out. Lu Han might grow angry and kick him out, insisting that he’s fine. Or he might break down and cry. Maybe he’ll just tell Sehun to go. Whatever it is, Sehun braces himself for the inevitable impact.

Instead of anything he predicted, Lu Han simply chuckles. For the first time, he lifts his head up to lock eyes with Sehun, and the sadness on his face stabs like a knife.

“You’ve grown up a lot, Sehunnie,” Lu Han muses. He reaches out a hand to pinch Sehun’s cheek. “I never thought that little brat I hit with a football would grow up so much. It’s been what, ten years?”

“Eleven,” Sehun corrects, speaking awkwardly around Lu Han’s hand on his face. “But you’re avoiding the point, hyung.”

“Shhhh,” Lu Han gently shakes his head. “I’m getting there, Sehunnie. You were such a clumsy kid—hit by a football, falling out of a tree—and I never took you seriously. You and Sejeong were like the cute little siblings I never had.”

Lu Han pauses to take a deep breath. “You still seemed like a little kid that time I saw you, but not so much anymore. You’d already grown up those three years I was gone, and not just in height. You didn’t push me when I closed myself off, and I appreciated that so much back then.”

“But now you’ve just grown up even more. You’re not that clumsy little kid always trying to impress me. You’re only seventeen, but there’s so much maturity in you already. How’d you do it, Sehunnie? How’d you manage to grow up so fast, while I’m still here struggling?”

Sehun swallows. “I haven’t grown up that much,” he mumbles. “I’m still just a kid compared to you.”

“Don’t be self-deprecating,” Lu Han rolls his eyes. “You’re a better man than I could ever be.”

Lu Han uncurls his frame, letting go of his legs and sinking down on his back. “I don’t know what’s wrong,” he admits. “I feel like I should be happy. I want to be happy. I’m at one of the top universities in Korea. My family has plenty of money and they all love me. I’ve got a good group of friends. I’ve got you and Sejeong and Minseok always supporting me. But I feel empty, Sehun. I feel like I’m drifting through every day on autopilot, and I can’t explain why but I just don’t know what I’m doing. And I don’t want to live like this. I want to be happy and feel like I have a purpose and just be okay, but something’s not right.”

“You know,” he goes on, staring up at the ceiling with a twisted smile. “I love Yifan, I really do. I think I do.”

Oh, does Sehun know that. He’s known for years now, and it hasn’t stopped feeling like glass shards are digging into his chest every time he remembers.

“The other day I reached into the sock drawer and found a box. I didn’t need to open it to know what it is, and I didn’t even want to. I just grabbed a pair of socks and closed the drawer and pretended I never saw it again. Whenever Yifan tries to be subtle and mention marriage, I don’t feel anything. I nod along and give some vague answer without feeling bad, because I simply don’t care.”

“What am I doing? I have everything I could ever want. There’s a wonderful man who loves me and wants to marry me, but I can’t feel anything. I can’t do this anymore, Sehun. I want to feel something—anything—except for emptiness.”

Of all things he could have prepared himself for, this confession from Lu Han is the last Sehun ever would have expected. All his life he’s known Lu Han as some unreachable deity, but now it’s painstakingly clear that Lu Han is only human. He thinks and feels and breathes and is vulnerable. He’s allowed to feel empty because he’s only human, and he guards himself off to others because he’s afraid.

And it’s okay. Really, it’s okay.

“Hyung,” Sehun can’t quite meet Lu Han’s eyes as he speaks. “You still don’t have to tell me anything that makes you too uncomfortable. But even when you feel ready to, just telling me won’t be enough. If you feel empty and aimless…I think you need to find help I can’t provide for you, hyung.”

Lu Han laughs lightly. “Wise as always, Oh Sehun.”

“I need help,” Lu Han says, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I want to be better. I want to be better so badly, but for the longest time I couldn’t bring myself to accept the fact that I’m not okay.”

If this were a fairytale or a dream, Sehun would cover Lu Han’s hand with his. He’d lean down and press his lips to Lu Han’s, murmuring tales of how much he loves him. If this were another life, Sehun would take this moment to express how he truly feels.

But this isn’t a fairytale or a dream or another life. This moment isn’t about Sehun; it’s about Lu Han coming to terms with his own emptiness and realizing that something isn’t right. It’s about Lu Han loving himself before anyone else—his family, friends, Yifan, Sehun—and that’s what makes it beautiful.

In this life that is real, Sehun stays seated next to Lu Han. Silence, he’s learned, can sometimes be the best support.

A few days later, Lu Han calls to inform him that Yifan proposed, and that he needs Sehun to help move his stuff out of the apartment. Sehun doesn’t hear from him for months after that, but he takes the silence as a good sign.

2012

Lu Han still gets bad days. When he finally contacts Sehun again, he’s crying and wondering why he let go of a man as wonderful as Yifan.

“Why?” He’d bawled against Sehun’s shirt. “He loved me, Sehun. Why didn’t I say yes to him? Oh my god, I broke his heart.”

Sympathetically, Sehun rubs Lu Han’s back and mutters, “Hyung, you said you weren’t happy with him. That’s a perfectly valid reason to not want to be with him.”

“But he loved me so much!”

“But did you love him?”

Lu Han doesn’t have anything to say to that.

He doesn’t reach out to Sehun a lot. Sometimes Sehun sees him on the sidewalk or in Star Blossom, but he purposefully pretends he didn’t. Lu Han’s been through a lot—he’s still going through a lot—and time and space are necessary. If he isn’t ready to talk to Sehun again, then that’s his decision.

All Sehun knows is that Lu Han wasn’t happy. He doesn’t know the fine details, but that’s okay. It’s not Sehun’s business unless Lu Han chooses to let him know, so as long as Lu Han still needs support, Sehun will let him take control.

“I’ve been liking this therapist a lot more,” Lu Han says one day over the phone. “I can’t explain it, but there’s something about her that feels right. The other three were all smart, but I couldn’t find a connection.”

“That’s great,” Sehun smiles. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, hyung.”

Lu Han goes quiet for so long that Sehun thinks he may have hung up. “Thank you for being so understanding, Sehun,” Lu Han says at last. “It’s been a rough year, but I want to be better so I’m trying hard. Thanks for being there.”

“I’m always here for you, hyung.”

Bad days are inevitable because Lu Han’s only human. But gradually, Sehun loses count of the bad days as more and more become good. Perhaps Lu Han’s still healing, but he’s getting there. Sehun knows he’ll be okay.

On one of many good days, Lu Han texts Sehun asking if he wants to come over to his apartment and watch a movie. Sehun agrees in a heartbeat, since he hasn’t seen Lu Han in almost a month.

The whole evening, he’s smiles more at the way Lu Han looks when he laughs than at the jokes in the movie. It just so happens that Lu Han turns to say something to him right as Sehun’s staring, and they both freeze.

“Um. Hi,” Lu Han grits his teeth awkwardly.

“Hi,” Sehun replies.

Twelve years, he decides, is an awful long time to suppress his feelings. So why not let them out now?

Before Lu Han can turn back to the TV, Sehun says, “Hyung, I like you.”

Hell freezes over as Lu Han blinks once, twice, thrice, and so many more times that Sehun loses count. This is the moment of truth. Twelve years building up to this moment. Somewhere in his gut, Sehun thinks this is the right timing.

“Goddammit,” Lu Han groans. “I’m going to hell.”

Speechless, Sehun places a hand on Lu Han’s shoulder. “Um, hey hyung, I’m sure it’s all—“

Lu Han shoots him an unimpressed glare, but he lets Sehun keep his hand on him so that’s slightly reassuring. “I’m going to hell,” he repeats flatly. “I’ve just been confessed to by a barely legal twink.”

Sehun blinks. “Barely legal twink?” He repeats dimly.

Letting out a frustrated screech, Lu Han flings himself down to the floor, curling up in fetal position. “I’m going to hell,” he repeats over and over, rocking back and forth. “I’m going to hell. Oh my god, I’m so going to hell.”

Blankly, Sehun stares down at the man on the floor. This is the man he fell in love with?

“I’m going to hell,” Lu Han says one last time before dramatically flopping on his back. “Why did I have to meet you, Oh Sehun? Why did you have to do this to me?”

Sehun slowly kneels down and runs his hand over Lu Han’s soft blonde hair. “Hey, hyung,” he whispers.

“What?” Lu Han snaps, jerking his head up in annoyance.

“I love you.”

That effectively shuts him up.

Lu Han just stares up at him, observing Sehun with those wide eyes. It’s amazing, Sehun thinks, that after twelve years, Lu Han’s still as perfect as the first time they met. He’s long since grown out of the scrawny boy wearing a Ronaldo jersey as he practiced keep-me-ups, and the past few years have seen Lu Han become more worn down and weary. But still; Sehun thinks the Lu Han at twenty-two is as mesmerizing as the Lu Han at ten.

God, he’s going to hell for being so cheesy, isn’t he?

Groaning, Lu Han reaches up and weakly slaps Sehun across the face. “I swear you’ll be the death of me, you little brat,” he grumbles.

Sehun just smiles.

2013

“Make a wish.”

“Huh?”

“I said to make a wish.”

“But it’s not 11:11?”

“11:11 is overrated. 11:07 is what it’s really about.”

“Sure, hyung.”

“Don’t give me that sass, you little brat. Just make a wish.”

“Okay.”

“What was it?”

“Isn’t the whole point that you shouldn’t tell others your wish? Because then it won’t come true?”

“Dude. We’re already wishing on 11:07. I think we can afford to bend the rules a little more.”

“Guess I can’t argue with that.”

“You sure as hell can’t. So tell me what you wished for.”

“Now I just feel stupid. You’re gonna laugh at me.”

“I’m sure it’s fine. Just tell me.”

“Fine, but I warned you. I wished for you to always be happy, okay?”

“…”

“Stop laughing!”

“I’m not laughing!”

“Right.”

“No, that’s super sweet, Sehunnie. I appreciate that a lot. Thank you, really.”

“You’re welcome, I guess. But what did you wish for?”

“That’s a secret.”

“What?!”

“Sorry Sehun, but I make the rules around here.”

“It would appear so.”

“I love you.”

“…”

“Respond, you imbecile.”

“I love you, too, hyung.”

2014

Dear Lu Han,

This is weird. Sejeong asked me why the hell we’re still writing letters when we both have phones, but I told her to shut up. I think she gets why, anyway.

How’s your mother doing? Tell her I’m sorry I couldn’t fly back with you, but uni is being a real big bitch. Don’t tell I swore. You’re so lucky you graduated already. Teach me your ways, senpai.

Okay, before you kill me for saying that—believe me, I threw up a little in my mouth when I wrote that down—let me just say that I miss you. Not too much because you’re coming back in a couple weeks, but it’s weird thinking of you outside Korea. Obviously you’ve visited home every now and then, but I’ve gotten so used to the idea of you being in Seoul that I’ve started to associate home with you.

Oh my god, that was so cheesy. If Sejeong ever found out I said something like that she’d never let me live it down. Please don’t tell her. I’m begging you.

But anyway. I’ve been pretty busy with school, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have time to miss your presence. So have fun in Beijing and come back safely! When you get back, I’ll be right at the airport holding a giant plushie and a sparkly sign with your name on it. I know you’re cringing now, hyung, but trust me, you’ll love it when it happens.

I love you,

Sehun

2015

“Please remind me how exactly Sehun-hyung got you to date him when he was a barely legal twink,” Sejeong remarks, mischief shining in her eyes as she leans over the counter to talk to her friends.

Sehun chokes on an ice cube while Lu Han, the traitor, just laughs. “Hey!” Sehun shouts indignantly, pointing an accusing finger her way. “You’re two years younger than me and dating someone Lu Han’s age! If I was a barely legal twink then you’re definitely one, too!”

“Well I haven’t known Junghyun-hyung since I was a kid!”

“Settle down, children,” Lu Han chides teasingly. He takes a sip of the iced americano Sejeong made for him and sighs appreciatively at the taste. “Your energy makes me feel so old. Must be nice to still be young.”

“You’re only four years older than me,” Sehun deadpans.

“Four years is a lifetime!”

Sejeong rolls her eyes. “The level of cheese from you two is unbearable.”

“You and Junghyun aren’t any better. You’re like high school sweethearts, except he’s six years older than you,” Sehun bites back.

“Ew,” Lu Han wrinkles his nose. “He was a high school senior when you were barely in middle school. I never took you to like older men, Sejeongie.”

Sejeong whacks him with the towel she’d been using to dry a mug. “Count yourself lucky I didn’t like Sehun-hyung. I bet you’re jealous I was his first kiss,” she sticks out her tongue childishly.

Lu Han shakes his head. “Nah. I always had a feeling Sehun liked dick better. How awkward was it to lose your first kiss to your gay best friend?”

“Excuse me?” Sehun splutters, the back of his neck red in embarrassment. “Why are we still talking about this?”

“Eh, it was pretty awkward, but it wasn’t my first kiss,” Sejeong responds, completely disregarding her so-called best friend.

Lu Han lets out a low whistle. “Damn. Fourteen year old Sejeong had more game than you, Sehunnie.”

“Why are we still talking about this?” Sehun repeats monotonously.

“Relax,” Sejeong has the audacity to ruffle his hair. “We all knew you were too whipped for Lu Han-hyung to ever look at anyone else. You’ve always been pretty transparent, hyung.”

Sehun decides that he rather hates his life.

As Sejeong bustles away to make more drinks, Lu Han pokes Sehun in the ribs. “After all these years you’ve never been able to out-roast her. But it’s okay. You’re cute when you’re struggling,” Lu Han teases.

Sehun decides that maybe he doesn’t hate his life that much. Because how can he, when Lu Han smiles at him like that?

Yeah, he thinks. Life is pretty good.

2016

After a year of careful plotting, Sehun is ready. Or, as ready as he’ll ever be.

He’s got this. Totally. Sejeong and Minseok, Lu Han’s best friend from Yonsei, helped Sehun pick out the perfect ring. Then Minseok did some best friend sleuthing and deduced which night would be the best to surprise Lu Han—Thursday, according to Minseok, because that was the day Lu Han’s annoying coworker has off and he’ll be in a better mood because of it. Sejeong made sure to close Star Blossom early on the second Thursday of January, and Junghyun promised to hook them up with his friend Suho to be the wedding singer. Of course Sehun found Junghyun’s contribution to be a bit ambitious, because who knew if Lu Han would even say yes? But yeah, he’s sure hoping it’ll be a yes, so maybe Junghyun is the smart one here.

So here Sehun is, sitting at the counter of the empty Star Blossom while Sejeong, Minseok, and Junghyun all hide in the kitchen. His leg won’t stop shaking, so he forcefully places his hand down on it to steady himself. But then his fingers start trembling, so he figures any attempts to calm down are in vain.

The familiar tinkling of the Star Blossom bells ring throughout the café. Sehun jumps a foot in the air, the weight of the box in his pocket suddenly feeling like an entire galaxy.

“Hey,” Lu Han greets, shaking snow off his dark locks. “What’s up? Does Sejeong need help?”

“Thanks for coming,” Sehun greets, very purposefully ignoring how badly his leg is quavering. “Could you, uh, sit here?”

Lu Han raises a brow. “Um, sure?” He sits on the stool next to Sehun, eyeing his boyfriend skeptically. “What’s going on? Why is this place so empty?”

“Well,” Sehun begins, only for his mouth to clamp shut out of nervousness. “You see, Lu Han-hyung. I. Well. Um.”

Weeks ago, Sehun started writing an elaborate speech. He’s been continuously revising it as the clock ticked down to this very moment, but now it just feels useless.

Fuck speeches, he decides. Relationships are all about improv, anyway.

So he slides off his stool, gets down on one knee, and pulls the box out of his pocket.

Years down the road, his grandchildren will ask how it went down. How, exactly, did Old Gramps Sehun propose to Old Gramps Lu Han? Was it romantic? Were there hundreds of red roses? Did Grandpa Lu Han cry because it was so beautiful? How perfect was the delivery of the “Will you marry me?”

And Sehun will, unfortunately, have to tell them that the words that slipped out of his mouth were, “Wanna be an Oh?”

His grandkids are definitely gonna facepalm at that.

For the longest time, Lu Han just stares at him with the most unimpressed look Sehun has ever seen. In the background, Sehun’s aware of Sejeong, Junghyun, and Minseok laughing their heads off at his stupidity. His ears are burning and his leg won’t fucking stop shaking, but at least the words are out. That has to count for something.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Lu Han deadpans.

“Yep. I figured.”

“Yifan did a better job.”

“Ouch.”

Lu Han glares at him with narrowed eyes. “Why are you like this?”

Sehun shrugs sheepishly. “That’s a good question.”

“Oh well,” Lu Han shrugs. “I guess I’d better get used to more of your stupid antics since we’re getting married.”

Somewhere in the distant future, Sehun’s grandchildren are jumping in joy when they hear that Grandpa Lu Han said yes anyway.

2017

“Hey,” Lu Han prods him in the side. “You know where we should go for the New Year?

Sehun stirs out of his half-asleep trance, turning to face his fiancé. “Where?” He murmurs sleepily.

He has absolutely no idea where this conversation came from. One minute they were falling asleep, and now Lu Han wants to talk about travel plans?

Lu Han smiles and says, “Beijing.”

“What?” Sehun jolts up, now fully awake. “Beijing?”

“I don’t see why not. I mean, you’ve only ever met my mom, so if we get married I figured you should meet the rest of my family.”

“Besides,” Lu Han adds with a wink. “They told me that once you visit, they’ll shower you with money."

Sehun’s never said yes faster. But not because of the money, obviously.

“Remind me again why you make wishes at 11:07 and not 11:11?”

“To honor the holy god Cristiano Ronaldo.”

“Ah,” Sehun grins, fondly lacing their fingers together. “I see.”

Lu Han shoots him an annoyed glare. “Are you disrespecting my religious choices?” He deadpans.

“No no, of course not,” Sehun responds, adding a quick kiss to Lu Han’s cheek as an apology.

Only half paying attention to the movie playing, Sehun hums to himself as the weight of Lu Han’s head sinks onto his shoulder. At random points over the course of the evening, Lu Han’s family had excused themselves from the living room to go do whatever. Sehun suspected it was a ploy to give him and Lu Han some privacy—or perhaps so they wouldn’t have to witness the couple cuddled up together—but he doesn’t mind.

Ever since they got to Beijing, Lu Han’s kept looking over his shoulder whenever they go out. Sehun asked once, but Lu Han just brushed it off as keeping an eye out for pickpockets. Still, Sehun can’t shake the feeling that Lu Han’s on edge about something, and he’s just glad that his fiancé seems to be at ease now.

The clock ticks to 11:07.

“Make a wish,” Lu Han manages to say through his yawn.

“Mmhmm,” Sehun nods absently.

A finger digs into his ribcage. “I mean it.”

Sehun doesn’t bother questioning or challenging his fiancé. “Okay,” he agrees.

“Out loud.”

Perhaps that demand was a big odd, but Sehun is too exhausted to think twice. “Mmm,” he murmurs. “I wish for Sejeong’s next boyfriend to be just as great as Junghyun-hyung. Or even better.”

Lu Han laughs. “What a caring friend,” he teases.

Sehun just nods tiredly. Speaking of Sejeong, she hasn’t messaged in almost a week now, which is rather unlike her. She tends to send him updates about the smallest things, and he’s grown used to Sejeong’s random outbursts. But ever since Junghyun got relocated for his job and he and Sejeong called it quits, Sehun's been concerned for his friend. She handled the situation very maturely, even being the one to suggest a breakup when Junghyun told her the news. But she doesn't hide the fact that she is a little sad, and Sehun hopes she's feeling a little better. Maybe he’ll call, but not right now because he wants to go to bed and it’s already past midnight in Korea.

“Sehun,” Lu Han pokes him again. “You don’t wanna know my wish?”

Oh, right. He’d completely forgotten what they were talking about. “Tell me,” Sehun gestures for him to continue.

Lu Han lifts his head off Sehun’s shoulder and turns to face him with uncharacteristically somber eyes. “Your happiness,” he replies seriously.

“Huh?” Sehun blinks. It’s a little too late at night for his one brain cell to process his fiancé’s morbid tone. “What’s going on, hyung?”

“Nothing,” Lu Han shifts his glance downward. “Just know that I wish for you to always be happy. Okay, Sehunnie?”

Sehun wants to ask more, but he feels too tired and Lu Han’s expression is so melancholic that he’s not sure if he even wants to know.

“Yeah,” is all he can say. “Thank you, hyung. I love you.”

Lu Han opens his mouth as if to say more, but he changes his mind and buries his head against Sehun’s chest instead.

They don’t get back to the hotel until well past midnight, and Sehun’s ready to flop down on the bed and never get up again. But before he can faceplant, Lu Han taps him on the shoulder with a sheepish grin.

“Sorry, but do you mind going down to the lobby? I asked for another copy of the card earlier today after I lost mine, but I forgot to pick it up. Wanna get it for me?”

Sehun raises an offended brow. “This is slave labor,” he complains.

“Please?”

It’s not like Sehun can ever say no to those eyes. “Alright,” he laughs, mustering all his strength to hoist himself up off the bed. “I’ll do it. Be back in fifteen minutes tops.”

Just as he’s about to go, Lu Han suddenly snatches him by the collar and, without warning, presses a kiss to his lips. He holds on longer than usual, almost like he’s lingering until the last possible second.

When Lu Han breaks away, Sehun is left dazed. “What was that for?” He questions amusedly.

Lu Han merely observes every angle and dip and curve of Sehun’s face. “I love you,” is all he says in response.

Even after five years, Sehun’s heart swells whenever Lu Han says those three words. Every time is a reminder that this life, this story, this world? It’s real. The boy he loves loves him back, and they’re happy. This love story came true.

“I love you, too,” Sehun smiles.

The taste of the kiss still lingers on Lu Han’s lips after the door closes.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Lu Han forces his tears back down and curls his hands into fists. He lets one singular tear escape and trickle down his cheek. Just one, because a second will destroy his resolve.

Be better.

He lets out a sigh and says, “So is it me or him?”

Behind him, the footsteps come to a halt.

A broken smile finds its way to Lu Han’s lips. “So it’s me,” he whispers.

Against his will, a second tear falls.

Chapter Text

“Want something to eat?”

“Hmm?” Yuta lifts his head up, eyes cloudy and unseeing. “Oh, sorry. What did you just say?”

Jaehyun pushes back his grimace. “You’ve been here for hours. You should get something to eat, hyung,” he replies gently.

Yuta shifts his gaze back over to the large rock on the ground. “I’m okay. Not hungry.”

It’s been eight months, but Yuta looks as lost and empty as he did the first night. Jaehyun’s never been too close with him, and now he’s painfully aware of how little he actually knows about Yuta outside of Sicheng.

Sicheng.

That same night, they’d carried the body back and buried it. They took turns digging the grave far into the early hours of the morning, using only phone flashlights to see. An official headstone was out of the question, so instead Johnny had picked up the largest rock he could find and had Mark carve out Sicheng’s name with a dagger. All the while, Yuta had held onto Sicheng’s cold hand until the last possible second, letting out one last muffled sob as he kissed his love’s forehead for the last time.

When Doyoung died, Jaehyun never even saw the body. Johnny had refused, saying that Jaehyun’s codependency on Doyoung would break him. So instead Johnny and Ten went to retrieve the body from the ambush site. Jaehyun still doesn’t know where the body’s buried, and he doesn’t particularly want to know, either.

Perhaps Johnny did the right thing, because look at Yuta now.

Slowly, Jaehyun kneels down next to Yuta and traces his fingers over the characters etched onto the rock. He doesn’t know what to say; “I’m sorry” feels too weak, “He’s in a better place” is plain distasteful, and “You’ll be okay” isn’t reassuring whatsoever. Jaehyun of all people knows that much.

“I’m not blind,” Yuta suddenly speaks up. He wraps his arms around his knees, hiding his face against his legs. “Nobody says anything, but I can see it in the way they act around me. Kun keeps giving me that one look of his. Johnny always looks like he’s about to start crying. Ten tries to cheer me up with stupid jokes. Taeyong always stutters when he talks to me. Mark won’t even look at me. Maybe I’m a miserable fuck right now, but I know what you’re all thinking. I just can’t bring myself to care.”

It’s the most Jaehyun’s heard from Yuta in eight months, and he’s not sure if this is a good sign or not. “We’re worried for you,” he says carefully.

Yuta shows no sign of hearing him as he starts speaking again. “I think I get it now, Jae.”

Glass hands snatch at Jaehyun’s lungs. “Get what?”

He doesn’t need to see Yuta’s face to know there’s a rueful smile painted on it. “After Doyoung died, you shut yourself off. You’ve always been reserved, but I’ve never seen anyone become so completely numb and guarded. You scared me, Jaehyun. I could guess how much pain you were in, but I couldn’t empathize with it, you know?”

With a low chuckle, he adds, “I get it now, though. God, I get it. I’m sorry I couldn’t understand before.”

The glass hands squeeze, shattering and leaving shards stuck on Jaehyun’s insides. “You shouldn’t be apologizing for anything, hyung. It’s not a competition,” Jaehyun barely manages out.

Yuta lifts his chin just enough for Jaehyun to make out the sorrow in his eyes. “I know,” Yuta nods emptily. “I just wanted to let you know.”

Tears start flowing down his cheeks. His hands grab blindly at something around his neck that Jaehyun can’t quite make out. There's a necklace, but what are his hands touching?

“Why did we need to lose people to understand each other?”

Jaehyun doesn’t have an answer to that. Four years of knowing each other, and this is the first time he feels like he can actually see Yuta. Before his lungs can fill up with glass, he hoists himself to his feet and holds a hand out. “Come on,” Jaehyun says. “Dinner should be ready by now.”

(The Aftermath of the second Worst Night:

The sound of the door slamming open must have been too loud, because Taeyong jolts awake immediately. But Jaehyun can’t even bring himself to care as he sinks down on his bed and clutches his head, hands and clothes covered in dirt after digging the grave.

“Jaehyun?” Taeyong whispers timidly. He gingerly climbs out of his bed—no, Jaehyun’s brain cruelly taunts. It’s not Taeyong’s bed, it’s Doyoung’s.

Taeyong nervously perches next to him and rests delicate fingers on Jaehyun’s arm. “What’s wrong, Jaehyun? What’s happening? Are you okay?”

Recklessly, Jaehyun rips his arm out of Taeyong’s grasp and jumps to his feet. “You should leave,” he declares.

Hurt flashes across Taeyong’s face. “What? I don’t understand what’s going on.”

Jaehyun barely hears a word Taeyong says. He starts pacing back and forth, running his soot-covered hands through his hair in agitation.

“I thought maybe this could work out, but I was wrong. You’re not safe here, Taeyong-hyung. None of us are. What was I thinking, dragging you into this life? You’d better pack up your things and leave today—go move in with that friend of yours you’ve mentioned before. Taeil, right? You’ll be so much safer with him.”

“Jaehyun!” Taeyong yells shakily. “You’re not making any sense right now, so if you could just tell me what’s wrong then maybe I could—“

“You don’t belong here!” Jaehyun shouts back, effectively silencing the other man. “We need to stop lying to ourselves, hyung. You believe in shit like fate and true love and all that bullshit, and I kill for a living. Why are you even here? Why did you stay when you found out the truth? Any normal person would’ve ran and forgotten about me, and that’s exactly what you should’ve done. This arrangement doesn’t work—we don’t work. Nothing about us is ever going to work.”

All the shouting drains everything out of him, and Jaehyun’s suddenly hit with just how exhausted he is. Any remaining strength leaves his body as he sinks down to his knees, hanging his head down to shield his face as the tears stream down.

“Sicheng’s dead,” he whispers, wincing at how hollow he sounds. “He’s dead, and it’s my fault. So you should run, hyung. Run before you end up like him.”

Who are you trying to fool? He scoffs internally. You don’t want him to go, you idiot.

Soft hands cup his jaw, gently coaxing his head up. Taeyong’s crying too, or at least Jaehyun thinks he is. It’s hard to tell through the waterfall of his own tears.

“I’m so sorry,” Taeyong murmurs. “I know how close you were to him; I can’t even imagine how you must be feeling right now.”

“I’m fucking cursed,” Jaehyun states miserably. “I break everything I touch.”

Including you, the unspoken words ring out.

Tears slide down Taeyong’s soft cheeks. “I’ve realized that I’ve been pushing myself to you too much, and now I feel stupid,” he confesses. “You have so much on your plate that I’m sure the last thing you need is some pushy intruder.”

“But I still want to be here for you. At the very least, I want to be your friend. If you’re feeling lost or sad, I hope you know that I’m always here for you.”

I’m always here for you.

Jaehyun flinches. “That’s the last thing Sicheng said to me,” he groans. “Why couldn’t I be there for him?”

The red words painted on the poster in Park Jinyoung’s office haunt him. Why didn’t he check more thoroughly? Why didn’t he notice they’d been followed? Why couldn’t he have saved someone who always had his back?

“You should go,” Jaehyun mumbles half-heartedly. “You really should, Taeyong-hyung.”

Taeyong’s hands are still cupped around his face. Carefully, he leans forward and leaves a kiss on the corner of Jaehyun’s mouth. “I think it’s better for you to not be alone,” Taeyong says delicately.

Jaehyun knows he’s right. Since he was a child, Jaehyun’s first instinct has always been to hold people closer in times of tragedy, not push them away. It’s why he clung so tightly onto Doyoung, keeping him safe from his father’s fists. It’s why he turned cold but kept a protective eye over his friends after Doyoung died. It’s why the last thing he wants right now is for Taeyong to leave.

His fingers curl around the fabric of Taeyong’s thin shirt. “Please don’t go,” he whispers brokenly. “Please.”

Taeyong responds by pressing their foreheads together.)

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Taeyong whirls around with a surprised expression. But when he sees Jaehyun enter the kitchen, his lips morph into a bright smile.

“Hi!” Taeyong breathes, the plate in his hands long forgotten.

Try as he might, Jaehyun can’t resist smiling back. “Hi,” he greets in return, running a hand along Taeyong’s shoulder. “Kun didn’t give you too hard of a time?”

Kun, who’d also been in the midst of dishing out plates, flips Jaehyun off without even glancing in his direction. “Go to hell, Jae,” he states flatly.

Taeyong giggles, endearingly covering his mouth when he laughs. “He was fine. A bit bossy, but that’s how he always is.”

“Don’t worry about him. He’s probably still mad after learning about his snoring habits,” Jaehyun teases.

This time, Kun shoots them the stink eye. “Either be nice to me or get the fuck out. And take your stupid couple antics out while you’re at it!”

“Jealous, much?”

Kun hurls a wooden spoon Jaehyun’s way. “Out!”

Jaehyun laughs. He squeezes Taeyong’s shoulder one last time before regretfully letting go. “I’ll get the others down. Stay safe with the tyrant,” he murmurs.

Before he can turn to go, Taeyong suddenly stands up on his tiptoes and leaves a kiss on his cheek. Then he shyly ducks his head and scurries back over to help Kun, ears pink with embarrassment.

Smiling fondly at Taeyong’s back, Jaehyun shakes his head a few times and ambles into the living room. Surprisingly, Mark is the only one there, his nose buried in a book. “Hey,” Jaehyun greets, plopping down next to him. “How’ve you been doing?”

Mark hums noncommittally, too absorbed in reading to bother with a reply. He curls into Jaehyun’s side, resting his head on the latter’s shoulder as his eyes remained glued to his book.

Sometimes Jaehyun forgets just how much Mark has gone through. The boy—man—turned twenty barely a month ago, and the optimism and youth that was present at nineteen is already fading away. Perhaps carving Sicheng’s name into a rock and digging the grave served as enough of a reality check.

It hurts to think of how similar the two of them are. Mark’s family was shot down when he was young. He was removed from his old life to train to be an assassin, made connections with kids his age, then promptly watched them get shot down. The only difference is that Mark, despite his never-ending nightmares, managed to remain young.

But lately, the innocence in his expression has been darkened by the shadows weighing down his eyes and the hardening of his jawline. For better or worse, Mark is growing up.

Unconsciously, Jaehyun shifts to allow Mark to lean against him more. He misses the Mark who used to hug him or cuddle up against him when neither of them could sleep; he wishes more than anything that Mark could’ve grown up outside of whatever hell they’re living in, but it’s too late for that.

“You know you can always talk to me,” Jaehyun remarks quietly as Mark’s hair tickles his neck. “I know I’m not the easiest to talk to and my advice is usually crap anyway, but I’m always here for you.”

I’m always here for you, Sicheng had said. Hours later, he was bleeding out in the arms of his lover.

Mark pauses, then curls up against his side even more. “Thanks, hyung,” is all he says in reply.

Jaehyun can’t quite read the emotions in Mark’s voice, but he thinks the boy is sincere. And that’s enough for now.

When Taeyong finds them still huddled together a few minutes later, he doesn’t say anything. He shoots Jaehyun a relieved smile and leaves, letting them have some time to themselves.

(The Aftermath, continued:

Ten’s fingers fly across the keyboard faster than Jaehyun ever thought possible. “I don’t know,” Ten groans, brow furrowing as he increases his speed even more. “I really don’t know. Either this guy has the world’s best personal firewall, or I’m missing something.”

Johnny pats his husband’s back encouragingly. “Are we even sure it’s the same guy? It might be a whole team.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” Jaehyun grimaces. “One fucker breathing down my back is bad enough; the last thing I need is a whole team of them.”

With an emphatic strike on the keyboard, Ten lets out an irritated shriek. “I don’t know what’s going on!” He throws his arms up in frustration.

“Let’s start from the beginning,” Johnny decides, gently prying the laptop away from his husband. Turning to Jaehyun, he calmly says, “So what happened when you took out Yang?”

Jaehyun shrugs, a frigid cold creeping up his spine. “He kept insisting he was innocent, but I ignored him. After I shot him I saw this envelope with my name on it and opened it, and that’s when you and Mark came in telling me to help out. It all happened so fast I almost forgot. I didn’t ask Ten to look into it for a while after.”

Johnny rubs at his chin thoughtfully. “Did the letter say Yoonoh as well?”

Yoonoh. The name leaves a bitter taste in his mouth at the mere thought of it. “Yeah,” Jaehyun nods.

“Shouldn’t that narrow the list down, then?” Ten suggests hopefully. “I thought you said your father unofficially gave you that name? So then it must be someone affiliated with him?”

Jaehyun’s grimace deepens. “Doyoung and I didn’t leave anyone in the house alive. It couldn’t have been one of the guards—we even counted and everything to make sure they were all dead. I don’t even know how many connections the bastard had, so it could be anyone for all I know.”

Johnny and Ten exchange glances. “Okay,” Johnny nods slowly. “Then can you think of anyone who may want to hurt you?”

“You’re kidding right?” Jaehyun scoffs. “I’m sure plenty of people want me dead--people I don’t even know probably want me dead.”

“Well, I guess we’re back at square one,” Johnny sighs.

“You’re saying that like we ever got anywhere in the first place,” Ten rolls his eyes.)

“How’s the boyfriend?”

“Fuck off; he’s not my boyfriend.”

Sehun snorts. “Right. You just bring him here every weekend and let him cuddle up to you even though you’re a prickly little emo. Totally not your boyfriend.”

Jaehyun mimes throwing his can of beer. “Can you stop exposing me already? I come here for some peace and quiet and you’re ruining it.”

“My house my rules!” Sehun retorts.

Rolling his eyes, Jaehyun downs the rest of his beer and immediately cracks open another. “Some friend you are,” he grumbles.

A few months ago, Sehun returned to his job as a choreographer after Sejeong got off extended maternity leave. Jaehyun stopped coming by so often—as much as he’s grown to like actual barista Chanyeol and chatty regular Baekhyun, they’re definitely not the same—but he and Sehun exchanged numbers on Sehun’s last day. Since then, they’ve sometimes met up at the apartment above Star Blossom to hang out. Jaehyun occasionally even brings Taeyong, but that’s another story.

Jaehyun has long since known that nothing is permanent—especially not people or relationships. In his twenty-six years, he’s already lost siblings, mother, father, best friend, and another close friend. He’s also caused people to lose family and friends; he knows how fleeting life can be, and that’s why he doesn’t want to put a label on whatever’s going on between him and Taeyong.

Does Taeyong make him feel warm inside? Yes.

Does he feel at ease when he hears Taeyong’s laugh or sees his smile? Yes.

Does he like Taeyong? Yes.

Does he love him? That’s territory Jaehyun doesn’t even want to venture towards.

But should Taeyong even be wrapped up in this world? No. Jaehyun’s seen what happens to people when their lives are corrupted by being around him, and he can’t envision a future where Taeyong gets out unscathed.

So maybe it’s unfair and maybe he’s leading Taeyong on, but Jaehyun is selfish and right now, he craves warmth more than anything.

“How’s the goddaughter?” Jaehyun asks, pushing away thoughts of Taeyong for a moment. “Mina, right? How old is she now?”

Sehun clearly sees right through him, but he gives Jaehyun a pass anyway. “Shit, she’ll be two in a few months,” he groans. “She’s been picking up bad words from me and Sejeong, which is pretty funny but her dad’s fuming. He always covers her ears now whenever I’m in the room.”

“Oh Sehun, corrupting the youth. Why am I not surprised?” Jaehyun laughs.

“At least I’m not a coward,” Sehun points out bluntly.

Jaehyun doesn’t even bother denying that, opting to take another swig of beer.

Some melancholy, cliché café song crackles from the radio. Emptied beer cans litter the coffee table, but neither man is close to being drunk. Jaehyun’s always had a remarkably high tolerance, and judging by the stony way Sehun fiddles with his ring, he’s still quite sober.

“How are you feeling these days?”

Jaehyun blinks. “Um, alright? I mean, I’ve been feeling okay, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Sehun tsks. “Don’t give me that half-assed bullshit. How are you actually feeling?”

That’s a good question, and it immediately causes Jaehyun’s hackles to rise. “I don’t know,” he shrugs. “I mean, things could always be better. Some stuff’s gone down that’s changed a lot with me and my friends, but I think we’re all moving on.”

“Would you say you’re happy?” Sehun implores.

Hesitantly, Jaehyun shakes his head. “I don’t think so,” he admits. “But happiness is hard, hyung. I think it’s a little too much to ask for right now.”

Sehun stares at him blankly. “Wow,” he laughs mirthlessly. “You really are like him.”

“Like Lu Han?”

Crunching his empty can with one hand, Sehun smirks. “Bingo.”

“Never in my life,” he continues, tossing the crushed can in the direction of the recycling, “have I met anyone as stubborn as you two. You think internalizing pain and just forging ahead in life is the best thing to do, but you’re wrong. You’re so fucking wrong it hurts.”

“You like a guy, he likes you back. Boohoo, it’s the end of the world. Don’t give me that bullshit about worrying for his safety—he’s an adult and doesn’t need you to protect him all the time, whether you realize it or not. Stop being such a coward and just accept how much you want Taeyong in your life.”

Sehun’s not wrong—he’s never wrong, as Jaehyun’s come to learn—but it’s unsettling to be read so easily. Reverting back to the defensive, Jaehyun grips his beer can and glares. “Why does this matter so much?” He snaps. “It’s my life and not yours, hyung. Stop trying to live vicariously through me just because your fiancé died.”

The second the words leave his mouth, he instantly regrets them. But it’s a second too late.  Jaehyun watches in horror as Sehun’s expression goes into blank shock, then morphs into a twisted mix of bitter and melancholic.

“You know,” Sehun begins calmly, twisting at his ring again. “Don’t bother with saying you’re sorry. I know you are, and I forgive you. Maybe you don’t deserve to be forgiven, but it’s fine. I’m not angry.”

“I just wish you understood that, as your friend, I want you to be happy. Is that so hard to understand, Jaehyun?”

Happy.

Sehun reaches over and pats him on the shoulder. “Sleep on it a bit,” he says. “That’s all I’m asking.”

(Three months prior:

Arms wrap around him from behind. “Thought I’d find you out here,” Taeyong yawns sleepily.

Jaehyun lets Taeyong rest his chin against his shoulder, reveling in the warmth the smaller man provides. “Isn’t it a bit early for you?” Jaehyun teases.

“You weren’t in the room, so I was worried. I figured you’d want to be with Sicheng,” Taeyong replies. After a second’s thought he adds, “Although, I’m surprised Yuta isn’t here, too.”

The first peeks of light paint Sicheng’s grave marker with warm orange tones. Jaehyun scoots over to let Taeyong sit comfortably by his side, the latter still tired from waking up at such an early hour.

“Doyoung died a year ago today,” Jaehyun announces, causing Taeyong to raise his head in curiosity. “Except Johnny and Ten wouldn’t tell me where they buried him, so I thought I'd visit Sicheng, too.”

Taeyong makes a move to get up. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize what today meant to you. I’ll let you have some time to yourself so—“

“It’s alright,” Jaehyun interrupts, easing Taeyong down by the arm. “Stay, won’t you? It’s kind of nice to have company.”

Reluctantly, Taeyong leans against his side again. “What was he like?”

“Doyoung?”

“Yeah,” Taeyong nods. “You’ve told me how he died and how you met, but what was he like? Similar to you?”

Jaehyun snorts. “Nah, he was pretty different. Less disillusioned, maybe? He only mentioned it a few times, but it was pretty obvious that even though he was damn good at the job, he didn’t want to be in this life.”

“It doesn’t seem like any of you do,” Taeyong points out wryly.

“True,” Jaehyun agrees. “But Doyoung was different. The rest of us kind of accepted our fate over time, but Doyoung wanted so much more. You know Star Blossom, that café we go to sometimes? The first time I went there was because Doyoung had a crush on one of the baristas. He knew he couldn’t risk having a relationship with someone normal, but that didn’t stop him from going there to see her. I don’t think anything ever happened, but yeah. He was realistic, but that didn’t stop him from dreaming.”

“Sounds pretty different from you,” Taeyong jokes.

Jaehyun smiles fondly at the rock with Sicheng’s name. “After we escaped, Doyoung had this crazy idea of getting matching tattoos. Said something about how no matter what happens to us in the future, at least we’ve got a connection to each other. I thought he was stupid and cheesy when he suggested that, but I went along with it anyway. So we found some needles and ink and gave each other stick and pokes of the day we got out.”

15.2.15. The day after Jaehyun’s eighteenth birthday.

Taeyong’s eyes drop to Jaehyun’s midsection. “Is that…” He trails off, face reddening.

Jaehyun guesses Taeyong’s thinking of the time he walked in on Jaehyun in the bathroom, which prompts an amused laugh out of him. “Yeah,” he nods in confirmation. “It felt liberating when I was still a teenager, but now it just makes me feel stupid. Because even though I shot my father, we weren’t really free. Me killing him led to a bunch of other events, and now here we are. Doyoung's dead and I’m still a murderer; neither of us are free.”

“But,” he muses. “I’d like to think that despite my current circumstances, anything is better than the hell I lived in under my father. Maybe I’m being selfish, but I’m so fucking happy to be out. I just wish Doyoung and Sicheng didn’t have to be the price.”

Taeyong remains quiet. The sun climbs higher in the sky, slowly warming the air and shining light down on them.

“I think he’d be proud of you, Jaehyun,” Taeyong murmurs. “I can’t explain it, but I feel like Doyoung must be happy for you.”

“Yeah?” Jaehyun remarks, entranced by the sunrise. “I’d like to believe that, too.”)

Taeyong’s hands like to wander.

If Jaehyun craves the feeling of warmth, then Taeyong needs actual touch just as much. He’s clingy and always finds some way to wrap an arm around or lean against someone’s shoulder, and people don’t tend to notice because it feels so natural for Taeyong to desire connection.

Jaehyun’s always been strict about establishing boundaries, but Taeyong breaks them so easily that he doesn’t realize it until it’s too late. First Taeyong rested against his side, then he grew bolder and started kissing his cheek. And one evening, as Jaehyun struggled to fall asleep, he was startled by the rustling of his sheets and a small body curling up next to him. But instead of telling Taeyong to go back to his own bed, Jaehyun let him be and accepted the warmth.

Right now, Jaehyun lies on his back with an arm wrapped around Taeyong, letting his bedmate use him as a pillow. Taeyong hums lightly against his chest in the perfect picture of content. His hands skim across Jaehyun’s side, tracing over numbers in black ink.

It’s nice, whatever this is. Fuck labels. If they both make each other feel warm and at ease, then what’s the problem? Why do they need a label?

But it’s much, much more complicated than that. Jaehyun doesn’t know about Taeyong because he doesn’t have the courage to ask, but he feels downright dirty for taking Taeyong’s warmth and genuine feelings without giving him a straight answer. Sometimes he’s not even sure if he actually likes Taeyong or not, or if he’s just using him because it’s convenient. It’s because of that reason why Jaehyun doesn’t dare take this relationship any further. He always turns his head if Taeyong goes for the lips, and eventually Taeyong stopped trying and only went for the cheek. Sleeping with him is out of the question.

Because any more means that this becomes too real, and then it’ll be too late.

“Hey,” Taeyong whispers. “Whatcha thinking about?”

Jaehyun stiffens. “Nothing important,” he answers defensively.

Taeyong makes a noise of disapproval which roughly translates to, I’m not buying your bullshit.

“I had a bit of a fight with Sehun-hyung,” Jaehyun admits guiltily. “I said some things I definitely shouldn’t have. He said it’s okay and that he forgives me and everything, but I don’t know. I’ve been thinking a lot about something he told me, so I guess that’s been eating me up. Sorry for making you worry.”

Shifting so his chin now rests on Jaehyun’s chest, Taeyong locks eyes with him. “What happened?” He asks curiously.

Jaehyun hesitates. He can’t just say, Oh I insulted him by using his dead fiancé even though he was just being a good friend. First of all Taeyong doesn’t even know about Lu Han, and more importantly that’s not what the fight was about at all.

The point is, Sehun wasn’t lying when he called Jaehyun a coward. Jaehyun knows he’s many things—selfish, a murderer, fucked up, and about a hundred other deservedly terrible names—but being a coward hits the hardest.

He thought he was brave when he shot his father, but only a coward would resort to killing to get his way. He pretended not to care about Doyoung’s death when in reality he was too afraid to admit how empty he felt. He can’t even tell some man who clearly likes him back how he feels, because then it would break whatever delicate fantasy currently exists.

“Hyung,” Jaehyun starts, only for his mouth to go dry when Taeyong’s gaze bores into him. Licking his lips, he tries again. “Hyung, why do you even like me? Why are you still here after I told you to go so many times?”

Taeyong doesn’t seem at all surprised by the sudden question. “Because whether you realize it or not, you’re not all that scary, Jaehyun.”

“I don’t get it,” Jaehyun frowns. “Taeyong, you’re an artist who still believes in shit like fate even after you’ve been through the gutter. How do you do it?”

It takes Taeyong a few seconds to reply, and when he does his voice is slow and careful. “I’m not that much of a hopeless romantic as people think,” he muses. “I mean, yeah I think fate is real. It has to be, right? Out of the ten million people in Seoul, what were the odds I’d see you so many times?”

“But I’m not stupid, either. I knew you didn’t want to see me again after that night, so I didn’t try seeking you out anymore. I should’ve left when you made it clear that you didn’t want me here when I first arrived, but I stayed because I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I told myself I should leave and stop being a burden so many times, but you know why I stayed?”

Jaehyun’s breath hitches in his throat. “Why?”

Taeyong smiles and places a hand on the side of Jaehyun’s face. “Because even though all of you scared me, I think I could understand what you’re going through. You’re all here because of something bad that happened earlier in your lives, and you didn’t have anywhere else to turn so you accepted this as your life. Maybe my story isn’t as tragic as yours or Mark’s or anyone’s, really, but I know what it’s like to suddenly be faced with a reality you didn’t want. I stayed because I found people who are broken down and tired, but keep moving on because it’s the only way to survive. And even though life keeps throwing more curveballs at you, you guys are still the most caring and close-knit group I’ve ever met.”

“You’re not half as scary as you think you are, Jaehyun. I think you know what you want, but you’re too afraid of what life will send you next.”

His fingers itch for a cigarette, but then he remembers that he had Mark hide them months ago so he’d kick the habit.  When people hit dead ends, the only options are to run back the way they came or to charge right into the wall. There’s no where to turn, and quite frankly, Jaehyun doesn’t know how much longer he wants to run.

So he averts his gaze and coughs to clear his lungs before saying, “I like you a lot, hyung. And I’m scared you’ll be gone just like Doyoung and Sicheng if I admit it.”

There: the most honest he’s been in God knows how long.

Taeyong just smiles. “I know,” he whispers. “I know.”

Jaehyun wants to say more, but the words aren’t coming to him—and that’s okay, because it’s enough. The truth is out.

Again, fuck labels. In this life of constant fear and vulnerability, labels aren’t important. What really matters is how, for the first time in so long, Jaehyun stares up at the ceiling and feels his eyelids grow heavier. He falls asleep that night to the feeling of Taeyong’s fingers dancing over his tattoo and the relief that comes with the truth.

Nine months and four days.

That’s how long it takes for Yuta to break.

One minute they’re all at the dinner table, laughing over some funny story that happened to Johnny when he went grocery shopping. Kun makes some dry remark about Johnny’s incompetence as a human being, which causes Ten to spring into fight mode as he protects his husband’s honor. Taeyong giggles, burying his head into Jaehyun’s shoulder to hide his laughter. Even Mark, who continues to grow more solemn with each day, cracks up.

“Grow up and stop making your husband defend you!” Kun retorts to some sassy comment Johnny makes.

Ten sticks his tongue out. “You’re just jealous that I actually have a man unlike all of your single asses!”

“Jaehyun and Taeyong definitely aren’t single! And why would I care?”

“Yeah yeah, just admit that you’re forever alone!”

Suddenly, Yuta springs out of his chair. His dinner falls to the floor, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care as he bolts out of the room without a word, leaving the remaining members in a shocked silence.

Slowly, Ten shrinks back into his seat. “I wasn’t thinking,” he remarks guiltily. “I shouldn’t have mentioned couples, right?”

Kun, who’s already gotten up to clean the food on the floor, shakes his head. “It’s not your fault, Ten. You couldn’t have known that would happen.”

Ten opens his mouth to protest, but Jaehyun cuts him off. “Don’t blame yourself,” he says. Standing up, he adds, “I’ll go talk to him. I think I know what’s wrong.”

“Good luck,” Johnny bites down on his lip nervously.

Jaehyun merely nods. He brushes Taeyong’s neck reassuringly and makes sure to ruffle Mark’s hair before exiting.

As expected, Yuta is crouched before Sicheng’s burial site, his tears dripping onto the rock. He doesn’t react when Jaehyun sits down next to him, too absorbed in crying to care. The sun setting makes it hard to see Yuta’s face, but the misery is clear.

“You know,” Jaehyun remarks. “I couldn’t touch a gun after Doyoung died. Every time I saw one of those things I’d have this urge to throw it as far away as possible. It wasn’t any of our guns that shot him, but I couldn’t help but feel like I was the one pulled the trigger whenever I held one.”

Yuta glares at him out of the corner of his eye. “That’s not what this is about,” he mumbles irritably.

Jaehyun lifts and lowers one shoulder. “Yeah, I know. I just figured I’d tell you. Now you want to tell me what’s really going on?”

“Nothing,” Yuta snaps.

But Jaehyun isn’t deterred quite so easily. “Right,” he nods. “So this isn’t about those rings?”

Immediately, Yuta’s hands fly to the thin chain around his neck. “Shut up,” he mutters through gritted teeth.

There it is. “It took me a while to realize what’s on your necklace,” Jaehyun continues. “Then one day I could’ve sworn I saw you staring at these two circles in your hand. And that’s when it hit me—they’re rings. You were going to marry him, weren’t you? That’s why it hurts so much?”

“Shut up!” Yuta roars.

“Deny it all you want, Yuta-hyung. I’m just trying to help.”

Yuta brings his fist up as if to hit him, but Jaehyun doesn’t flinch. He merely raises a brow and says, “I'm right, aren't I?”

It feels like an eternity passes before Yuta relaxes his fist and slumps over, his body collapsing in on itself. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “Yeah.”

He yanks at the chain around his neck, breaking it off until only the two rings are left in his hand. They’re mere silver bands and aren’t nearly as fancy as Sehun’s, but Jaehyun thinks the rings are rather fitting. Sicheng, he thinks, wouldn’t ever wear anything flamboyant. He liked elegance in simplicity.

Yuta stares down at the twin rings. “I got hopeful, and that made me stupid,” he groans. “I thought it could work out, you know. Obviously we could never get officially married, but I thought having rings would prove we’d be together forever.”

He laughs harshly. “I didn’t even have a plan for proposing; I just knew I wanted to do it eventually. I loved him so much I forgot how shitty our lives are. Now he’s dead and all I have are two rings that won’t ever be used. I’m fucking pathetic, Jaehyun.”

Suddenly, he flings the rings as hard as he can, tossing them somewhere into the trees. “Fuck this. Fuck everything. Why did they take him? Why couldn’t they let us be happy? Why did I choose this life?” Yuta screams at the top of his lungs, voice overcome with despair.

Jaehyun watches the trajectory of the silver bands until they disappear somewhere in the distance. “Because life isn’t fair,” he points out gently. “Hearing that probably doesn’t help, but it’s the truth.”

Yuta scoffs. “Yeah.”

The tears have long since dried out, but Yuta doesn’t look any less miserable than he did when Jaehyun found him. “Sometimes I wonder how my life would’ve turned out if I’d stayed in Japan,” he sighs. “If I’d gotten a call from my future self telling me I’d fall in love with someone in Korea who’d eventually die, I wonder what I would’ve chosen. Stay with the Yakuza and avoid that path, or leave and experience that momentary happiness.”

When he turns to face Jaehyun, his face is filled with sorrow from his tired eyes to his half-hearted grin. “When Sicheng died, I couldn’t sleep for so long. I kept wishing for a time machine so I could run away from this shitty, painful feeling keeping me up at night. I just wanted to forget everything, because never meeting him sounded better than feeling empty.”

“But it’s not,” Yuta turns back to the sunrise. “Maybe twenty-eight is still too young to say this, but he was the love of my life. I’d rather be with him for a few years than never know him at all. Everything about him—everything we had—is worth whatever pain I’m feeling right now. That much I know for sure.”

Yuta’s crying even harder now, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care. “I can’t do this anymore,” he confesses. “I can’t go out on jobs without thinking of him. Every time I look at my gun, I think of how one of these things took his life. I wish I could carry on but I can’t, Jae. I can’t.”

Jaehyun just nods. “I know.” God, does he know.

More sobs wrack out of Yuta’s body. “You must be the bravest motherfucker I know. How have you managed to still do your job after Doyoung? How are you so strong?”

“I’m not,” Jaehyun shrugs. The sunset, he muses, is beautiful. He wishes he could see this more often. “I’m not brave or strong. Losing him killed me, so I shoved my feelings down and pretended they didn’t exist. I’m a fucking coward, Yuta-hyung. You’re the brave one.”

Yuta cracks a weak smile. “Nah,” he shakes his head. “Maybe you didn’t cope very well at first, but you’re a lot stronger than you think. If anyone can get through a tragedy like that, it’s you.”

“My entire life is a tragedy; I just accepted it over time,” Jaehyun laughs, except it’s not entirely a joke.

As the sun continues descending in the sky, Yuta chuckles and says, “Well, at least you’ve turned out okay.”

That, Jaehyun ponders, may not be a lie after all.

Oh Sehun: Hey you wanna hang out?

Jung Jaehyun: What’s the occasion?

Oh Sehun: Nothing really. I’m babysitting again and it’s tiring, so maybe you could bring Taeyong and have him entertain Mina for a bit?

Jung Jaehyun: So you want me to come over so you can take advantage of Taeyong’s crippling love for kids?

Oh Sehun: Pretty much.

Jung Jaehyun: Be there in twenty.

Something’s up with Sehun.

Despite perhaps not always liking people, Jaehyun certainly knows how to read them. Sehun’s fairly reserved, that’s for sure, but he’s opened up to Jaehyun a lot over the past year. But Jaehyun’s never seen Sehun look this agitated and on edge, fidgeting with whatever his hands can touch and nervously glancing up at the clock every thirty seconds.

Taeyong’s busy playing with Mina, so Jaehyun takes the opportunity to drag Sehun into the kitchen on the premise of grabbing a beer. Sehun follows him in a daze, reverting back to fiddling with his ring.

Rings, huh?

Perhaps it’s because he’s never had many close, dedicated relationships himself, but Jaehyun never understood the significance of rings until now. Sehun’s served as a reminder of the man he’d loved and lost, while Yuta threw the two rings away so he would no longer dwell on what could have been. Now that Jaehyun thinks about it, do Johnny and Ten, the only married couple he knows, even wear rings?

Shooing away thoughts about rings, Jaehyun turns his attention back to the main problem at hand. He prods Sehun in the shoulder with his can and says, “Hey, I took your advice and did some thinking these past few months.”

“Yeah?” Sehun nods, distracted again by the clock. “What’d you conclude?”

Jaehyun shrugs. “Unsurprisingly, you were right. I wasn’t being completely honest with myself, and I decided that if I want to be better, I have to start telling the truth more.”

“That’s always good,” Sehun agrees absentmindedly. “What’s that thing people always say? ‘The truth will set you free’? How’d that work out?”

“Well,” Jaehyun sneaks a glance over to where Taeyong’s coloring with Mina in the living room. In another life, maybe they would have met under different circumstances. Maybe he and Taeyong could’ve lived in their own apartment and had their own kids. It’s an impossible future, but a nice one to think of nonetheless.  He inhales, and it’s the first time in so long that he doesn’t feel glass in his chest. “I think I might actually be happy.”

Happiness, he’s learned, can’t be forced. Losing Doyoung made him think he’d never be happy again. Befriending Sehun and falling in love with Taeyong didn’t automatically make everything better, and Sicheng’s death certainly didn’t help, either. But trying a little more every day to move on and learning to appreciate the people in his life? That’s brought him closer to happiness. Day by day, he thinks he’s starting to get there.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings.

Furrowing his brow, Jaehyun gives his friend a questioning look. Only then does he notice the twisted, sad grimace on Sehun’s face.

“Jaehyun,” Sehun swallows, voice trembling. He sounds like he’s about to start crying any second, and it’s scaring Jaehyun because what the fuck?

Sehun grips onto the edge of the kitchen counter for dear life. “Jaehyun,” he repeats even more shakily. “I need you to know that I appreciate you so much. You’ve been a great friend the past year, and that’s why I can’t lie to you anymore.”

“Lie?” Jaehyun takes a threatening step forward, expression dark. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I need you to know how much you mean to me, and that’s why I had to do this. I’m so sorry, Jaehyun,” Sehun’s voice rises in panic.

The more he speaks, the less he makes sense and the more Jaehyun wants to throttle him. “Tell me what the fuck is going on,” Jaehyun demands.

Distantly, the doorbell rings again. Sehun can’t quite look him in the eye as he quietly says, “I think you should go answer that.”

Dread pools in Jaehyun’s stomach. What has Sehun done? Who could possibly be at the door?

Barely aware of what he’s even doing, Jaehyun mechanically strides out of the kitchen and past the living room, ignoring Taeyong’s concerned call of his name. He stops at the door, anticipation building up in his chest and he. Can’t. Fucking. Breathe.

Jaehyun pulls the door open as hard as he can, and the sight before him almost causes him to slam it shut.

“Hey hyung, thanks for babysitting agai—oh. Oh.”

Because before him stands someone he hasn’t seen in almost a year and a half. Someone who should be buried six feet under and not staring back at him with shocked eyes. Someone who shouldn’t be breathing.

“Jaehyun?” Taeyong’s worried voice rings out, followed by the padding of his approaching footsteps. Instinctively, Jaehyun holds an arm out and pushes Taeyong behind his back, protecting him from the eyes of a dead man.

Like that, the spell breaks. The man before him lets out a resigned sigh and says, “Hello, Jaehyun.”

“Hello,” Jaehyun greets stoically. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

Without warning, he strikes Doyoung across the face.

Chapter Text

“Okay,” Doyoung winces as he delicately touches the bruise on his face. “I definitely deserved that.”

Jaehyun’s lips curl into a sneer. “Yeah?” He snarls, bunching his fists together in anger. The urge to punch Doyoung again is tempting and he’s more than willing to do it—he would, in fact, if Taeyong weren’t currently holding holding him back.

Wordlessly, Sehun fishes an ice pack out of his fridge and passes it over. Doyoung smiles gratefully and presses it against his cheek, wincing at the cold. “Got any beer, hyung?”

Sehun nods and tosses one over.

Jaehyun, meanwhile, is positively fuming. “What the actual fuck,” he snaps. “You’re dead, Doyoung. You’re fucking dead. So why the fuck are you still alive?”

Doyoung takes his time cracking open the seal on the beer can. He hasn’t looked Jaehyun in the eye even once since they met at the door, and right now he looks like he’d rather be actually dead than have this conversation.

“Well,” he begins carefully, fiddling with the can in his hands. He takes a long drink, then says, “I’m uh, not dead?”

That does it.

Breaking out of Taeyong’s hold, Jaehyun lunges forward and pulls Doyoung up by the collar. The can of beer falls to the floor, spilling on the tiles. Doyoung doesn’t even look remotely surprised by the sudden action, which only spurs Jaehyun on even more.

“You piece of shit,” Jaehyun spits venomously. He tightens his grip around Doyoung’s collar and violently shakes him—Doyoung’s always been and still is taller, but his frame is considerably leaner. “You selfish son of a bitch. I mourned you for so fucking long. Do you even know how much of a miserable bastard I was for the past year? I couldn’t fucking sleep because I heard you screaming every time I closed my eyes—how the fuck could you be so goddamn selfish?”

“Jaehyun,” Taeyong speaks up, voice quavering with concern. He places a tentative hand on Jaehyun’s shoulder, only for it to be shaken off. “Jaehyun, you should stop,” Taeyong tries again.

Letting out a bitter laugh, Jaehyun throws Doyoung down to the floor in disgust. “Right. I should be nice to this motherfucker because while I wanted to fucking die every day, he was here this whole time living with his perfect little family. That’s why you left, right? Because you knocked up the barista? Because you’re such a loyal family man you forgot about me?”

Doyoung still won’t make eye contact.

“Yeah,” Jaehyun scoffs. “I thought so.”

He turns to Sehun, who’s engrossed in twisting his ring. “And you,” Jaehyun growls. “You’ve known all this time, haven’t you? Every time I mentioned his name, you knew exactly who I was talking about. You fucking knew he was alive, and you didn’t think to tell me? Some friend you are.”

Doyoung rises to his feet. “Don’t blame him. It’s me you’re mad at, and you’re in the right. Listen, Jae—“

Jaehyun whirls back to face his former best friend. “You don’t get to call me that!” He shouts indignantly. “How can you pretend that nothing’s happened? Like we didn’t think you were dead for a year and a half? I fucking saw you get shot down, Doyoung—how are you even alive?”

And then it hits him. In all his dreams and in the reality, he hears the shrill, banshee-like screams. But every time he turns to look, someone blocks his view.

Disbelief spreading across his face, Jaehyun tightens his fists even more. “Johnny,” he states flatly. “He knew?”

At last, Doyoung raises his chin and meets Jaehyun’s gaze. He hasn’t changed a bit in the past year and half. His hair is back to black instead of the purple when Jaehyun last saw him, and maybe being a parent has caused him to become rejuvenated or something. He’s lost the grim, defeated countenance from his previous life—Doyoung looks good, and that just makes Jaehyun even angrier. Doyoung's been living this soft, normal life while the rest of them still go through hell every single day?

“Yeah,” Doyoung nods. “He and Ten helped me out.”

Jaehyun’s head swims as a million more questions emerge. “Why would they help you?”

“That’s not my secret to tell,” Doyoung replies with a thin, wry smile.

If it weren’t for Taeyong already anticipating it, Jaehyun would’ve leapt at Doyoung again. But the small man is ready, wrapping his arms around Jaehyun from the back to hold him still. “Don’t do you anything you might regret,” Taeyong pleads insistently, fumbling around for Jaehyun’s hand to calm him down.

Only then does Doyoung seem to really notice the unfamiliar presence in the room. His eyes widen as he takes in Taeyong and Jaehyun’s position. “Jaehyun, you…“ Doyoung trails off, blinking slowly like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

Immediately, Jaehyun bristles in anger. He straightens up to his full height to shield Taeyong from sight. “No,” Jaehyun barks protectively. “You don’t get to look at him.”

“Jaehyun,” Doyoung lets out an exasperated sigh. “Come on, you’re being ridiculous. I just want to know if you’re together.”

“You have no right to know anything about me anymore,” Jaehyun responds icily.

The shame and guilt on Doyoung’s face causes cruel, vicious satisfaction to flood Jaehyun’s blood. With one last sneer, he grips Taeyong’s hand and walks to the door, dragging Taeyong with him.

“Wait,” Doyoung starts, only for Jaehyun to cut him off again.

“If I ever,” Jaehyun says steadily without looking back, “see either of you again, I will fucking kill you.”

(One month after The Worst Day:

Sicheng crosses his arms and frowns. “You’re gonna freeze to death, you idiot,” he comments dryly.

“Fuck off,” Jaehyun mutters through gritted teeth.

Sighing, Sicheng prods him in the back with a foot. “Well tough luck, because nothing will change if you just sit here all day long.”

“Fuck off,” Jaehyun spits again, unable to hide his shivers. The early morning air is especially chilly for March, but he’s been so hollowed out and broken that he didn’t notice until now. Still, hearing Sicheng’s blunt yet caring tone is the last thing he needs at this very moment.

“You don’t know how I feel,” Jaehyun continues stubbornly. “So stop trying to pretend and be all understanding or whatever bullshit. Just leave me alone.”

The cold remark only makes Sicheng laugh. “No, you stop being a sad little emo with daddy issues. I know that’s just how you are or whatever, but it’s not earning you any pity points,” he scoffs.

Jaehyun whips his head around. “The fuck did you just say to me?”

“You heard me,” Sicheng shrugs nonchalantly. Gracefully, he swoops down to take a seat on the front steps next to Jaehyun. “Maybe I wasn’t as close to Doyoung-hyung as you were, but he was my friend, too. You don’t need to go through a lifetime of trauma with someone to miss them when they’re gone. It’s okay to grieve, Jae. So stop this self-pity party and accept whatever you’re feeling as normal.”

Sicheng’s limbs are spindly and his joints sharp, but it’s comforting when he leans against Jaehyun for a few brief seconds. With a softer voice, he says, “And yeah, I don’t completely understand how you feel. But I can imagine it, and even if that’s maybe half as bad as the actual feeling, you’re not alone, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun averts his eyes. His hands have grown numb from the cold, but try as he might, he can’t feel the pain. “I don’t know what to do anymore,” he confesses. “What would you do if you lost Yuta?”

“What?” Sicheng blinks in confusion. “That’s not exactly relevant, is it?”

“Just tell me. Tell me so I know what to do,” Jaehyun begs, hanging his head down in shame.

Sicheng hesitates for a moment. “Well,” he shrugs at last. “First of all, that bitch should count himself lucky if he ever manages to outlive me—what with all the stupid things he does every day,” Sicheng laughs fondly, and Jaehyun can’t help but crack a small grin too.

“But in all seriousness, I don’t know. I guess I’d make myself move past it, but there’s only so much you can force, you know? And yeah, I can say whatever I want now, but how am I supposed to know what will happen until it actually does? Grief works differently for everyone, so there’s no one ‘right’ thing you can do.”

Jaehyun lifts his head. “Why can’t I feel anything?” He wonders dejectedly. “Why am I so empty?”

“That,” Sicheng responds with sad eyes, “is something I don’t have an answer to. I’m sorry, Jaehyun.”

Suddenly feeling weak and tired, Jaehyun all but collapses against his friend’s side and squeezes his eyes shut. “I hate my life,” he groans.

Sicheng wraps a reassuring arm around his shoulder and says, “Don’t we all?”)

“Wait!” Taeyong pants, struggling to keep up with Jaehyun’s quick steps. “Jaehyun, stop! You’re hurting me!”

Jaehyun grits his teeth in annoyance but lets go of Taeyong’s wrist anyway. “That bastard,” he hisses, lost in his own world as Taeyong trails after him. “That fucking bastard.”

A small hand rests on his arm. “Calm down,” Taeyong begs. “Jaehyun, you should really think before you do something you might regret. Please, just—“

Without warning, Jaehyun violently shakes off Taeyong’s hand and whirls around to face him with a dark expression. “He betrayed me,” Jaehyun growls. “He let me suffer for a year and a half because I thought he was dead. Johnny and Ten betrayed me too. How many more people have taken advantage of my trust, hyung? How long have I been lied to?”

Taeyong bites his lip nervously. “I know you’re angry, and you have every right to be. But please don’t do something on impulse—maybe Doyoung had his own reasons, I don’t know. I’m just asking for you to reconsider before you do anything without thinking.”

Jaehyun knows that Taeyong’s words come from a good and reasonable place, and that’s what fuels his rage even more. “How can you be so calm about this?” He snaps, taking a menacing step forward. “You never even knew him, and now you’re just accepting that he’s suddenly not dead? How can you just stand here and tell me to be calm, when you have no fucking clue how I’m feeling?”

Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, he adds, “Or did you know about this all along?”

“I didn’t!” Taeyong insists. Tears of frustration pool at the corners of his eyes as he stomps his foot on the sidewalk. A few passerbys stop and stare at the fight happening, but neither man cares. “Jaehyun, the world isn’t out to get you. It was unfair of Doyoung to fake his death like that—it’s downright selfish, actually—and it’s unfair you had to find out after so long, but it’s not the end of the world. I don’t know, shouldn’t you be happy to find out that your best friend is still alive? You always talk about how important he is to you, so shouldn’t you be happy or something?”

“How am I supposed to be happy when it felt like the world ended with his death, and now he’s been here this whole time?” Jaehyun retorts angrily. “I don’t care what his excuse was—you don’t just abandon someone who’s always been there with you like that. He’s more selfish than my father; how do you expect me to be happy to hear that?”

Taeyong gingerly rests his hands on Jaehyun’s shoulders. “Jaehyun,” he says, only a slight quaver to his voice. “I love you.”

Time stills as Jaehyun remains rooted in place, face expressionless.

“And it’s because I love you,” Taeyong continues, gently squeezing Jaehyun’s shoulders as he speaks, “that I know you’re not in the right mind now. I can tell that you want to confront someone—Doyoung, Johnny, Ten, anyone—and you probably deserve to, but I really think you need to wait before doing so. I know you, Jaehyun; you’re better than this.”

Taeyong’s large eyes are filled with hope, imploring Jaehyun to listen to his words and take them to heart. Even after seeing all the worst parts of him the past year, Taeyong still believes in him. It’s pure and beautiful and so Taeyong--and it makes Jaehyun want to throw up.

The world ended with Doyoung’s death. It stopped again when Sicheng was shot down. And now, right as Jaehyun’s fooled himself into thinking he’s better, he finds himself at a standstill again. But strangely enough, when Taeyong looks at him like that, the world starts spinning again.

And then it halts when the glass hands reclaim their grip in his chest, digging their pointed edges through his lungs until they pierce his heart.

Coldly, he glowers down at Taeyong and sneers, “Well, you should pick someone else to love.”

Kun jumps a foot in the air when the front door is forcefully kicked open. “Jesus Christ, Jaehyun,” he yelps, clutching a hand to his heart.

Jaehyun merely shoves the door closed with the same force. “Where’s Johnny?” He demands angrily.

“Well good evening to you, too,” Kun remarks with a raised, unimpressed brow. “The fuck is wrong with you now?”

“Where is he?” Jaehyun hisses.

Kun’s gaze flicks over to Taeyong, who’d scrambled out of breath and with a panicked expression. “Um, what’s going on?” Kun asks slowly, a million questions crossing his face at once.

Taeyong rapidly shakes his head. “Don’t question him right now; he’s angry enough as it is,” he insists.

“Right,” Kun nods skeptically. He shifts his gaze back over to Jaehyun with hardened resolve. “Sure. Except I’ve never been afraid of you, Jung Jaehyun. So before you go off and murder Johnny or whatever, you’ll have to tell me what the fuck is going on.”

At that moment, Mark and Yuta wander in the hallway from the living room. “Hyungs?” Mark blinks, gaze flickering back and forth between Kun and Jaehyun as the obvious tension permeates the air.

“What’s happening?” Yuta questions cautiously.

“Go upstairs, Mark,” Kun ushers. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Mark scowls. “Like hell it doesn’t.”

“Not like it concerns you either,” Jaehyun shoots at Kun.

“Oh stop it,” Kun rolls his eyes. “You think the whole world revolves around you and your shitty life. Guess what? It doesn’t. We all have shitty lives, but you don’t see any of us using it as an excuse like you do.”

Jaehyun curls his hands into fists. “Shut the fuck up,” he hisses.

Skinny fingers tug at his wrist. “Jaehyun, calm down,” Taeyong pleads to deaf ears.

Boldly, Kun steps forward and points an accusing finger Jaehyun’s way. “You know what your problem is? You’re self-centered and think the world is out to get you. I know your life is terrible, but the only thing you can do is push on. Instead you just sulk and don’t change a thing. You don’t get the right to be all hot and cold with us when all we do is try to support you. So don’t try and act like you’re better than us or that we’ll never understand you, because we want to help but all you do is shut us out!”

“Kun,” Yuta speaks up sharply. “That’s enough.”

Mark claps a hand down on Kun’s shoulder—when, Jaehyun thinks in the back of his mind, did he grow so tall? “That’s enough, hyung,” Mark declares firmly. “Having a dick measuring contest isn’t gong to solve anything right now, so just shut up.”

“Excuse me?” Kun slaps Mark’s hand off and glares at the younger man. “What gives you the right to talk me like that, you brat?”

“You being an ass to Jaehyun-hyung gives me that right!”

Jaehyun’s head begins to throb in pain. “Just tell me where the fuck Johnny is,” he groans, gripping his temples.

“Not until you tell us why,” Kun retorts.

“It’s none of your—”

“Doyoung is alive!” Taeyong yells at the top of his lungs.

As if a spell were cast over them, the hallway falls silent and the world stops spinning.

Mark is the first to move again. “What?” He whispers, reeling back in shock.

“What?” Yuta echoes in an incredulous shout.

Taeyong flinches. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, tightening his grip on Jaehyun’s wrist.

“What the fuck,” Kun states, “is going on?”

Exhausted, Jaehyun lifts his chin and shakes his head. “He’s alive,” Jaehyun confirms.

“How the fuck is that possible?” Mark demands. “How do you even know?”

“My friend at the café is his daughter’s godfather,” Jaehyun says, and the second the words leave his mouth he realizes how many more questions that brings up.

“Daughter?!” Mark and Kun exclaim in unison.

“Long story,” Jaehyun groans, sinking down to his knees as his head kills him even more. “Look, I don’t even know the full story. We were just at Sehun-hyung’s place while he was babysitting, then Doyoung showed up to get his daughter. I may or may not have punched him.”

Kun snorts, but it doesn’t have the nearly the same amount of snark to it as usual. “Classic Jaehyun.”

“Anyway,” Taeyong interrupts. “He didn’t say much, but he mentioned something about Johnny and Ten helping him fake his death.”

Jaehyun grits his teeth. “Shut up, Taeyong,” he snaps.

“What?” Taeyong demands, glaring down at him with unusually fiery eyes. “You’re not getting anywhere being all pissed off and stubborn, so I’m doing you a favor. Now they know the truth.”

Somehow, Jaehyun can’t bring himself to face Taeyong. Not after the cruel words he said on the sidewalk. But apologies have never come easy to Jaehyun, and this is hardly the time for one right now.

“Where’s Johnny?” He says instead, still kneeling on the floor. “Tell me where he is right now.”

Kun and Mark exchange uneasy glances. But before either of them can say anything, the man himself appears.

“I heard shouting; what’s going on?” Johnny wonders as he casually ambles in, a glass of wine hanging between his fingers.

In a flash, Jaehyun jumps to his feet and surges towards his target. The wineglass slips out of Johnny’s fingers and shatters on the floor when the impact of the shove sends him down on his back. Practically growling, Jaehyun plants a knee on Johnny’s chest and hits him across the face once, twice, thrice, until he loses count.

“What the hell?” Ten’s panicked voice yelps. “Jaehyun, stop!”

Hands grip at his shoulders, but Jaehyun shakes them off and strikes Johnny again. His blood is boiling and his vision has turned red and he can’t fucking stop—not even when Johnny futilely attempts to defend himself from the blows and Ten continues screaming.

Traitor, his mind hisses with each punch. Traitor. Liar. Snake. Deceiver.

It takes the combined strength of Kun and Yuta to pull him off, and even then Jaehyun shakes with rage, seeing only red as Ten fusses over Johnny. The left side of Johnny’s face has already turned an unflattering shade of purple and his eye is swollen shut as he gapes up at his attacker. “What the fuck, Jae??” Johnny shouts, voice hoarse and damaged.

“You traitor!” Jaehyun yells, struggling violently to get out of Kun and Yuta’s grip. “You knew he was alive! You knew all this time because you helped him fake his death! How could you do that to me—to us?”

Realization dawns on Johnny’s injured face as his lips settle into a thin line. Ten steps back in fear, hands covering his mouth in shock. “How did you find out?” Ten quivers in fear.

Jaehyun sneers. “Because I just saw my best friend who’s supposed to be dead! So tell me how the fuck that’s possible, you snakes.”’

Ten blanches. He looks like he’s about to faint, but then Johnny exhales and stands up protectively in front of his husband. “Don’t talk to him like that,” Johnny says authoritatively. “He had nothing to do with this. It was all me and Doyoung.”

If it weren’t for the two holding him back Jaehyun would’ve throttled Johnny by now. “Just tell me the truth,” he snarls.

Johnny’s eyes flicker with unease. “Can we do this is private?”

“No,” Mark cuts in, voice steely and more mature than Jaehyun’s ever heard him sound before. “No more secrets, and especially no more lies. I think we all deserve to know the truth.”

Yuta nods in agreement, expression stony. “Death isn’t just something to lie about,” he remarks coldly.

Johnny still seems unsure, but then he sighs again and nods in defeat. “Alright,” he says. “The truth. Okay.”

Ten shoots him a panicked look. “Johnny, wait—” he begins, only to stop when Johnny sadly shakes his head.

“I was never that close to Doyoung,” Johnny begins. “I always knew he didn’t like me, but I figured he had good reason not to.”

Jaehyun scoffs. “You don’t say.”

Johnny winces, but whether it’s from the pain of his injuries or Jaehyun’s words is unclear. Perhaps both. “Yeah, that’s fair enough. But anyway; he never liked me, and I knew that. I think I was the only one he didn’t trust, honestly.”

“And then one day in February he just comes up to me and out of nowhere asks to talk in private. Cuts straight to the point and says he’s never liked me, but that he needs a favor. So he tells me about this girl he’s been seeing in secret for the past few years, saying she’s a barista at this café she owns. Then he says that maybe he could’ve continued this double life, but then things got complicated when their kid was born. I think he said the kid was a few months old at that point.”

“He said that having his daughter made him realize that he couldn’t do this life anymore, so he wanted out. Doyoung wanted me to help fake his death at the next mission by shooting my gun when Jaehyun’s back was turned. The idea was that I’d get Jae out before he could even turn around, and then Doyoung would make his escape. I swear this was all his idea.”

Jaehyun narrows his eyes in suspicion. “But why would he ask you if he never trusted you?” He demands.

An unreadable emotion flashes across Johnny’s face. “I think it’s because he knew I was the only one who’d do it,” Johnny replies carefully. “It’s because he didn’t like me that he knew he had to ask me.”

“And you just agreed to it?” Kun raises a brow. “Maybe I get why Doyoung would ask you, but why the hell would you say yes? Did it never occur to you that his plan was stupid and bound to fail eventually?”

Johnny lifts and lowers a shoulder as the same strange emotion crosses his expression again. “Every day I wonder why I said yes. Ultimately, I think it’s because Doyoung just seemed so desperate. He wanted out so badly, and he saw it as the right time to leave and be with his family. So I decided to help him.”

Yuta frowns. “So is that why you never let us see the body? Because there was none in the first place?”

“Yeah,” Johnny confirms. “That’s the only time Ten got involved. Otherwise he only knew what was happening because I told him.”

Yuta’s frown deepens into a scowl. “That’s pretty fucked up, if you ask me,” he states darkly. “Did either of you ever take a second to stop and think about the consequences? Did you even care about how the rest of us would feel—how we’d grieve? How do you think it feels to lose someone you love? Did you ever think about that? Death isn’t some kind of joke; you can’t just choose when it’s real or not.”

“He’s right,” Kun agrees. “I get that you were trying to respect his wishes, Johnny, but what Doyoung did was pretty selfish and unfair to the rest of us.”

Johnny bows his head down in shame. “I know,” he mumbles sadly. “I realized after we went through with the plan that it was wrong, and if I could turn back time then I swear I would. I—“

“Get the fuck out.”

All eyes turn to Jaehyun. “Jae, what?” Kun blinks in surprise. “The fuck are you on about?”

Jaehyun can feel the glass in his heart turn to stone. “I said,” he repeats heavily, “for them to get the fuck out.”

Reeling back in shock, Johnny splutters, “W-what?”

“You’re a liar,” Jaehyun announces icily. “First you let him carry through with his stupid plan, and then you did nothing but lie to me for a year and a half. Burying the body, mourning, comforting me—which part wasn’t a lie, Johnny?

Johnny silence is answer enough.

Exhaling, Jaehyun drags a hand through his hair and hunches his back. “You had a whole year and a half to tell me the truth, but you didn’t. You betrayed my trust, and I don’t just hand it out to people. Maybe Doyoung never liked you, but you were like another brother to me. Johnny, I trusted you. And look where that’s gotten me.”

“So get out. Pack all your stuff and leave before tomorrow morning. Get out and pray that you’ll never see me again.”

He can feel Taeyong’s eyes boring into the back of his head, but he doesn’t care. Doesn’t feel anything, in fact. His body moves on autopilot as he breaks free of Kun and Yuta’s grasps and strides past Johnny and Ten, unable to look at any of them. Ten reaches out for his arm as if to say something, but he changes his mind at the last second and also hangs his head down in guilt like his husband.

Wordlessly, Jaehyun walks up the stairs and into his room. He sinks down on his bed and closes his eyes, begging for sleep when he knows it won’t come.

Some time a few hours later, a lithe body slips under the covers next to him. Assuming it’s Taeyong, Jaehyun turns his back in shame and mumbles, “Not now, hyung.”

He’s met with a snort that most definitely doesn’t belong to Taeyong. “It’s me, hyung,” Mark yawns, wrapping his arms around Jaehyun from behind.

Jaehyun doesn’t know whether he wants to laugh or cry. “What are you doing here?” He asks, except it comes out choked and unsteady.

“I want to cuddle,” Mark replies matter-of-factly. He presses his chin against Jaehyun’s back and sighs in content. “Ever since Taeyong-hyung moved in you never want to cuddle with me anymore. Pretty tragic, honestly. I get why you’d choose your boyfriend over me, but I still feel left out.”

This time, Jaehyun manages out a laugh despite the way his chest constricts uncomfortably at the mention of Taeyong’s name. “Sorry for neglecting you, kid.”

Mark hums appreciatively. Maybe he’s lost his more childish demeanor and optimism over the years, but he’s still Mark. Even if he’s been forced to grow up fast, he hasn’t lost that brightness and innocence that comes with youth. Jaehyun used to want to protect that purity and keep Mark safe, but now he’s realized that it’s impossible. Mark’s already lost so much and he’s going to lose his innocence eventually—maybe it’s already happened—but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s Mark.

Jaehyun doesn’t throw the word love around easily, but he loves Mark. He knows that much.

“Johnny-hyung and Ten-hyung left,” Mark speaks up quietly. “They didn’t have much stuff, so they were gone in an hour. Just thought you should know.”

An invisible knife stabs Jaehyun in the heart. “Yeah. Got it.”

Mark buries his nose in Jaehyun’s shirt. When he speaks, his words vibrate against Jaehyun’s back. “What was it like seeing him again, hyung?”

The urge to cry is stronger than ever, but he forces it down. “First I was shocked,” Jaehyun replies emotionlessly. “And once I got over that, I was just scared. Really fucking scared, Markie. I wanted to believe I was dreaming, but it was real.”

“Shouldn’t I have been happy?” He wonders miserably. “All this time I’ve been wishing he were alive—I thought I’d rather die than feel so empty—but now that I know he’s fine, I want him to be dead.”

Mark hums in thought. “I think that’s normal, hyung. Because he did betray you in a way. He literally faked his death to get out of this life, and honestly? It would have been a lot easier had he actually been dead this whole time than having to find out later.”

“Still,” Mark continues. “Can’t say I’m not disappointed in you, hyung. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’ve changed a lot in the past year. I’ve always looked up to you for being good at your job, but recently I found myself wanting to be more like you, period. The way you handled Sicheng-hyung’s death was so much different than when you thought Doyoung-hyung was dead, and then you were so mature with Yuta-hyung. I don’t know what kind of inner peace you found, but you were different in a good way.”

“So yeah, Doyoung-hyung was selfish for lying. I’m not gonna deny that, and you have every right to be mad. But I don’t think reverting back to violence was right, either. When you started hitting Johnny-hyung, I thought we’d moved backwards or something. You scared all of us, hyung.”

Guilt stabs him in the heart. “I’m sorry, Mark,” Jaehyun apologizes. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Well,” Mark shrugs. “It’s not like you can take it back anyway.”

“I shouldn’t have kicked Johnny and Ten out, right?”

“Nope.”

“I’m an idiot, huh?”

“Definitely.”

“Just as selfish as Doyoung?”

“Probably more, honestly.”

Jaehyun laughs through the pain in his chest. It’s strange, but somehow Mark brings more warmth than Taeyong ever has. God, he truly does love Mark—the second person he can say that about with confidence. “When’d you grow up so fast, kid?”

Mark snuggles even closer. “When I wanted to be like you.”

“The fuck are you doing here?”

Sehun waves weakly. “Can I come in?”

No, Jaehyun’s prepared to snap. Every nerve in his body screams for him to shut the door on yet another liar who’s invaded his life. The worst part is that he didn’t just trust Sehun, he spilled his heart out to him. Sehun was the first person Jaehyun opened up to about his emptiness and desire to be better, and look how that turned out.

But although his hands itch for the handle, he’s too tired to fight. The house has felt like a battlefield these past few days, with Yuta and Mark siding with Jaehyun while Taeyong and Kun actively avoid him. Never before has Jaehyun felt so choked and strangled in a space that’s supposed to be safe, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can take it.

Groaning, he gives in and gestures for Sehun to follow him inside. Coincidentally, no one else was home at the moment—probably because the tension was so thick nobody wanted to be present. Yuta, Taeyong, and Mark had gone grocery shopping while Kun went for a run. Jaehyun’s plan for the day had been to sit in the dark and ruminate on how much of a miserable bastard he’s become, but it looks like he’ll have something to keep him distracted.

“Want something to drink?” He mumbles, blindly reaching in the general direction of the mugs. “Sorry, but I’m pretty shit at making coffee. Johnny’s a lot better, but I kind of kicked him and Ten out the other day so you’re stuck with my shitty skills.”

Sehun shakes his head. “No, I’m good. I don’t want to be any more of a bother than I already am.”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes as he snags the coffee mix. “Whatever,” he mumbles. “How’d you even know where to find us?”

“I asked Doyoung,” Sehun replies, shifting his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

“Of course,” Jaehyun nods in a daze. He thinks he’s poured too much mix into the coffee machine, but oh well. Unsteadily, he fumbles around until the machine is turned on and whirring. “So you here to apologize or something? Forget it—if you can forgive me for mocking your dead fiancé then I can get over this. Consider us even now.”

Sehun visibly flinches. “Jaehyun, stop it. It doesn’t take a genius to see that you’re not okay right now, and it’s my fault.”

“Ditch the blame game already,” Jaehyun mutters. “I said I’m fine, so just leave it.”

“Jaehyun,” Sehun sighs wearily. He’s always been a fair bit taller and broader than Jaehyun, but now he just looks small with his shoulders hunched and hands shoved into his pockets. Judging by his gaunt face and drooping eyes, guilt must have been eating him alive these past few days. “Can you at least hear me out?”

“Depends,” Jaehyun shrugs, but motions for him to continue anyway.

Sehun takes in a deep breath. “Six years ago, Doyoung started coming in to the café as a regular. I didn’t have a job back then so I’d spend my days hanging out with Sejeong while she worked. I noticed Doyoung’s crush on her so I thought I’d help him out.”

Jaehyun concentrates on the still whirring coffee machine. “You, a wingman? How noble.” He comments sarcastically.

“I just wanted to do them both a favor, okay? It took him a long time to actually make a move, but then they grew close and started dating. I think he told us the truth about his life maybe six months in to the relationship? There was a whole argument, but they liked each other too much to just break up. Fast forward a few years and they found out they’d be having a kid. That’s when Doyoung first decided that he had to leave your life.”

Swallowing, Sehun hesitates before continuing the story. “Jaehyun, I’m not sure if you remember, but there was this one time Doyoung brought you in to he café with him. It was before I’d ever talked to him but I’d always observed what he did so I was surprised to see you with him. After he told me and Sejeong the truth, he kept mentioning your name. Said you were his most treasured person and how you’ve been through hell and back together. He made it clear how important you were to him, and that’s why it took him so long to make a decision. And just for the record, he really is sorry. He told me to pass on the message that he’ll be at the bar by the café tonight and that he hopes you’ll talk to him.”

The machine finally finishes. Focusing his attention on selecting a mug, Jaehyun snorts and mutters, “I’m so important he couldn’t tell me the truth in the first place? So he’d rather fake his death than be honest with me? Yeah, I see how special I was. Fuck his invitation—like hell am I ever gonna willingly see him.”

“I’m not defending his choices,” Sehun insists. “I tried to talk him out of his plan for so long, but he was stubborn about it. Eventually I figured it wasn’t my decision to make, so I let him be. But when you showed up at Star Blossom months after he ‘died’, I recognized you immediately. Hell, I almost told you the truth that first day, but I stopped myself at the last minute. I wanted to tell you so many times, Jaehyun. Believe me.”

“So what?” Jaehyun points out emotionlessly. After everything he’s been through recently, he doesn’t even have the energy to snap anymore. “You wanted to, but you didn’t. Good for you. It makes me feel real great to know that the only reason we became friends was because you already knew everything about me. And here I was thinking I’d actually found someone who could understand me.”

Sehun shrinks back in shame. “Look, I won’t try and defend my past actions. I wasn’t honest with you, and that makes me no different from Doyoung. But I do care about you, Jaehyun. You’re the first person I could talk to about Lu Han in years. Me saying this won’t make the situation any better, but our friendship means a lot to me.”

“Right,” Jaehyun scoffs. “Yeah, I sure bet it did. Because now I feel like a goddamn fool thinking I did such a good job hiding my real life from you when you’ve known all along. How many more lies, hyung? You went on and on about how lies and secrets killed Lu Han—well why didn’t you tell the tru—”

Halfway through his last sentence, Jaehyun stabs at the button on the machine. A split second later, he’s met with a not so unfamiliar scalding sensation on his empty, mug-less hand.

“Shit!” Sehun yelps, immediately rushing over to help. He yanks Jaehyun’s hand away from the coffee stream and drags him over to a sink. “What the fuck were you thinking? How the hell did you not realize that you stuck your hand there? Oh my god, you got me so worried you—“ Sehun rambles on and on as he assesses the damage.

Jaehyun, on the other hand, can’t help the laugh that spills out his lips. It’s strangled and sounds downright deranged and the pain in his hand throbs more with every second, but he can’t stop.

“Why are you laughing?” Sehun demands, turning the tap on and dunking the injured hand under the lukewarm water. “You think this is a joke, you brat? You already look and move like a goddamn zombie and now this? Did you do that on purpose?”

“This is awfully familiar, isn’t it, hyung?” Jaehyun interrupts with a dazed grin.

Sehun furrows his brow in confusion. “What are you—oh. Oh.”

Memories of a year ago—back when they still barely knew each other—flash through Jaehyun’s mind. When he’d opened up for the first time and Sehun confessed a piece of his own history in return. When seeing the ring on Sehun’s fourth finger and the way he traced characters against the counter sent Jaehyun spiraling out of control and caused him to spill his coffee.

Sehun’s still wearing the ring, Jaehyun observes. Not that it’s surprising, of course. It’s beautiful that Sehun still holds on, but heart wrenchingly sad at the same time.

How much do you have to love someone to still mourn them six and a half years later? How much pain do you have to go through?

Is it all worth it?

Noticing the way Jaehyun stares at his ring, Sehun lowers his gaze and chuckles sadly. “You’re pretty lucky, you know. The one you lost came back. Most of us can’t have that.”

“Yeah,” Jaehyun agrees quietly.

The pain in his hand is still sharp and red hot, but he barely even feels it anymore. Sehun lost Lu Han, Jaehyun lost Doyoung, and Yuta lost Sicheng. The only difference is that Lu Han and Sicheng stayed dead. People who die don’t just come back, no matter how much the loved ones wish for it to happen. So why did Doyoung of all people have to come back?

A single tear falls down Sehun’s cheek. He doesn’t even bother brushing it away. “How are you constantly defying my expectations?” Sehun muses out loud. “I thought I was doing the right thing by telling you the truth. I thought you’d be happy to see him again.”

“But I didn’t want him to come back,” Jaehyun replies honestly. “I did at first, but now, after so long…I think I was better off thinking he was really dead.”

“I realize that now,” Sehun admits ruefully. “I’ve been wishing for Lu Han to come back for almost seven years now. All my dreams would be about running through that hotel in Beijing trying to save him. I just assumed you’d have the same feeling, but there you were, already moving on past Doyoung. How do you do it?”

Jaehyun passively lifts and lowers a shoulder. “It takes a hell of a lot of pain.”

Sehun cracks a smile. “Yeah, huh? Here I was all this time, fooling myself into thinking I was helping you. Believe it or not, you’re strong, Jaehyun. I want to be better like you.”

He lets go of Jaehyun’s burnt hand. “I think it’s time for me to go,” Sehun says, dipping his head down. “If you ever need me, you know where to find me. If you don’t…well, I understand. Thank you for everything, Jung Jaehyun.”

With one last smile that makes his eyes curl into crescents, Sehun walks away.

No sooner had Sehun left the room than Kun enters, bewilderment painted all over his face.

“Am I crazy, or did you just have a guest over without telling any of us?” Kun demands.

Jaehyun mentally groans at the thought of having to deal with Kun at this very moment. “Calm down, it’s just Sehun-hyung,” he waves his hand dismissively.

Immediately, Kun zeroes in on the red burn. “What have you done now?” He glares accusingly at Jaehyun, eyes narrowed in thought. “So you brought your friend over and now your hand is burnt? What the hell happened?”

“Nothing,” Jaehyun snaps defensively. “It was an accident, okay? It wasn’t even his fault. And I didn’t know he was gonna be here, either—he just showed up and wanted me to hear him out. So I did and now I feel a little better. Happy?”

Kun rakes a hand through his hair in frustration. He has that look on his face again—that anxious, scared expression Jaehyun has only seen once before at Star Blossom. “Jaehyun, I don’t think it’s a good idea to get involved any further with that guy,” Kun warns.

Now it’s Jaehyun’s turn to narrow his eyes in suspicion. “‘That guy’ is my friend, hyung. You’ve never even spoken to him; what could you possibly have against Sehun-hyung?”

Like a fish, Kun opens and closes his mouth until his lips settle into a stressed grimace. “Just listen to me, okay? Have you already forgotten that your friend knew about us all along? He’s been lying to you just as much as Johnny and Doyoung have, yet you still trust him? You’re literally choosing him over people you’ve known for years?”

Jaehyun makes the mistake of slamming his injured hand down on the kitchen table, but the pain isn't comparable to his annoyance. “And so what?” He barks. “Yes, he lied to me. No, I haven’t completely forgiven him. But he’s been one of my closest friends this past year so I appreciate him for that. Hell, he’s been a much better friend than you’ve ever been to me!”

Kun clenches and unclenches his jaw as conflicting expressions take over his face. “Jaehyun, just trust me on this, okay? Please don’t ask any questions—I’m fucking begging you, alright? I know I’m a shitty person and an even shittier friend, but if you never do anything else for me again, just do this for me. Please, Jae.”

Rolling his eyes, Jaehyun sneers and says, “Why should I listen to you? You don’t know anything about him, so you should just stay out of this. Why do you even hate him so much, huh? What’s he ever done to you—”

“Beijing!” Kun screams, eyes wild and panicked and downright feral.

Jaehyun freezes. “What?”

Kun groans. He takes a seat and slouches over on the table, burying his head in his arms. “Beijing,” he repeats miserably.

Slowly, Jaehyun’s mind begins to put the pieces together. Beijing. Beijing. Beijing. Beijing.

And then he gets it.

All Jaehyun can do is gape at Kun’s pathetic, slumped over figure. No. It can’t be true, he desperately tries to convince himself. But who’s he kidding? He knows. Without a shadow of a doubt, he knows.

“Kun…you…”

He can’t even finish his sentence. Wordlessly, Jaehyun stumbles out of the kitchen and down the hall, only to walk straight into Taeyong.

“Jaehyun?” Taeyong blinks, reaching out to steady the disoriented man with his hands. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

Yuta glances over in confusion, his arms full of grocery bags. “You good, Jae? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Jaehyun just shakes his head. He tries opening his mouth to speak but his throat betrays him, letting out nothing but a pained exhale. Mark rushes over with concern in his eyes and Taeyong leans in closer, but Jaehyun can’t do this right now. So he does the only thing he can think of.

He runs.

(Another small sliver of Kun’s past:

“Just get on with it already.”

There are two choices in the palms of his hands. One is to lower his gun and leave;to pretend nothing happened and walk out and never look back. The other is to listen.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he exhales and makes the wrong decision.)

“I didn’t think you’d actually show,” Doyoung raises a brow in surprise.

Jaehyun rolls his eyes. “Fuck off,” he mumbles tiredly. He drops ungracefully onto the bar stool next to the man who’s familiar but so unfamiliar at the same time. An amber colored drink is already on the counter in front of him, as well as an entire array of shots. Jaehyun doesn’t think twice before making a beeline for the shot glasses.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Doyoung replies with ease. He flicks back his cocktail with practiced grace, whereas the Doyoung of the past used to down vodka shots like a caveman—much like Jaehyun’s doing right now, actually. Jaehyun wants to make some snide comment about Doyoung turning soft, but he can’t even find the energy to be snarky anymore. Not after what’s just transpired.

Doyoung sets his glass down and folds his hands together. “Sehun says his visit was pretty interesting,” he remarks casually.

“Yeah?” Jaehyun scoffs. “How so?”

“Johnny-hyung and Ten are gone, for one thing,” Doyoung raises a brow. “Wanna explain that?”

Jaehyun glares at him from the side, still refusing to dignify Doyoung by facing him. “Maybe because they’re fucking liars,” he deadpans. “Maybe because they cheated me for a year and a half. You think I’m stupid enough to let two people I don’t trust stay?”

Doyoung doesn’t even flinch. “Well, it’s not like I expected much more from you, Jae.”

“Don’t call me that,” Jaehyun retorts automatically. “And fuck off.”

“Again, thanks but no thanks.”

Jaehyun suppresses a scream as he aggressively chugs back another shot. That’s five now, but he’s always had a high tolerance so it’s practically nothing. Not like he can feel anything right now, anyway.

Calmly, Doyoung takes another delicate sip of his drink. “What’s gotten you so worked up? Besides seeing me, of course.”

“Did you know?” Jaehyun asks bluntly.

“Know about what?”

He’s tempted to take another shot, then thinks better of it. Jaehyun doesn’t particularly want to have this conversation sober, but it’s not like being drunk will make him feel any better. “About Beijing,” he says, cutting right to the point.

Doyoung’s silence is answer enough.

“Christ,” Jaehyun laments, “how long have you known?”

“A couple years now,” Doyoung replies evenly, seeming much more interested in swirling his drink around in its tall glass. But Jaehyun knows him well enough to detect the sense of unease underneath his relaxed voice. “I mean, I always had this feeling in the back of my mind that I was missing something. Then one day Sejeong mentioned something about it and it hit me. Kun doesn’t know I know, but it makes sense, doesn’t it? The timing is too perfect to be a coincidence.”

If his life hasn’t been flipped upside down enough times already, then surely there must be some higher being laughing at him right now. How many curveballs can be thrown at Jaehyun until there have been too many? Why him?

He grabs at the drink Doyoung ordered for him and downs half of it at once. “What the actual fuck is going in my life right now?”

Doyoung chuckles. “You’ve always been a special one, Jae.” He remarks. “Sometimes I wonder how you do it. It’s like the whole world keeps throwing you plot twist after plot twist and somehow you’re still fairly normal.”

“No thanks to you,” Jaehyun grunts. “You’ve been the biggest fucking plot twist in my life.”

“Why’d you even do it, anyway?” He continues, suddenly finding himself unable to stop once he’s started. “Because you fell in love? Because you have a family? Because you didn’t want to hurt me? If that’s it, then I’m calling bullshit. Falling in love is one thing and so is having a family, but did you really think faking your death was the best way to not hurt me? It took me months to even look at your side of the room, and once I was able to I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t touch anything that belonged to you, and I even yelled at the others for suggesting that I let Mark and then Taeyong sleep in your bed. You think you did the brave and virtuous thing by faking your death so you could live happily ever after with your pretty barista? Think again, you selfish bastard.”

Doyoung remains quiet and motionless throughout Jaehyun’s entire spiel. Once it’s over, he merely takes another sip of his cocktail. “This isn’t how I thought this meeting would go,” he mumbles, shame coating every inch of his voice.

“How’d you think this would go?” Jaehyun scoffs. “That I’d suddenly forgive you for everything you’ve done? Yeah, right.”

There's so much more he wants to say. If he could, he would strike Doyoung across the face over and over again until he turned as purple as his hair the night he left. He wants to make Doyoung hurt just as much as he himself had hurt for a year and a half. He wants to say every cruel, unforgiving word he knows and shove Doyoung down to the ground, then stomp all over his chest so he’ll know what it feels like to not be able to breathe. Jaehyun wants Doyoung to hurt until he feels glass hands crush his lungs and heart and infect his bloodstream, killing him slowly with sharp shards.

But at the same time, he doesn’t. Because at the end of the day, it’s still his best friend sitting next to him.

“I hate you,” Jaehyun says at last.

“You should,” Doyoung agrees.

“I don’t forgive you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“You lied to us.”

“I did.”

“You have no right to any part of my life.”

“I don’t.”

Jaehyun tilts his head back as he finishes off the rest of his drink. Ice clatters against his teeth, but he doesn’t care.

He sets the glass down and sighs. “Hyung,” Jaehyun smiles bitterly. “You were the first person I loved.”

Doyoung can’t quite look him in the eye. “I know,” he murmurs.

Jaehyun rises to his feet and throws a few bills on the counter. “But here’s the thing: I don’t need you.”

As he’s about to leave, he glances back at Doyoung one last time. “Good luck with everything,” he says. “I hope you’re happy.”

For a moment, Doyoung moves as if to say something. But Jaehyun turns his back and closes that chapter. Ends it right there and then, because any longer and the story will go on for far too long.

Never mind the tears that threaten to fall.

Chapter Text

Someone’s foot shoves him in the back. “I believe you’re in my seat.”

Jaehyun just snorts and shifts a bit to the side. “Didn’t realize this patch of dirt was your seat,” he comments sarcastically.

“Yeah?” Yuta prods him with an elbow for good measure as he drops down next to him. “Tough luck, bitch.”

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Jaehyun shoves Yuta’s shoulder in revenge. “Why don’t you go back to being a moping, miserable bastard?”

Yuta just smiles, ducking his head down and staring fondly at the grave marker. “Oh, I still am,” he remarks casually as he runs his fingers over Sicheng’s name. “I still feel like shit every time I wake up and reach for him only to realize he’s not there. I still want to cry every time I remember I’ll never kiss him again. I’m as miserable as it gets, Jae. But because of you, I’ve decided to take initiative and try moving on with my life.

“Because of me?” Jaehyun echoes in confusion. “The fuck have I done? In case you don’t remember, I’m pretty goddamn useless when it comes to feelings.”

With a chuckle, Yuta says, “Yeah you’re pretty useless, but not as much as you think you are.”

“Like I said, Jaehyun, you’re the bravest motherfucker I know. And whatever’s happened recently doesn’t change that.”

Jaehyun’s chest tightens. He’s put more effort than he’d like to admit into avoiding everyone these past few days. No more Star Blossom because the chance of running into Doyoung is too high, and he doesn’t know how he’ll react if he sees Sejeong the pretty barista. Sehun’s the one reason he’d possibly go back—as much as Sehun lied to him for over a year, Jaehyun still craves the feeling of having an older brother figure to spill his feelings to—but Jaehyun’s too much of a coward to even try. Johnny and Ten are out of the question. He can’t look Kun in the eye after figuring out the truth about Beijing, and he’s also sidestepped Mark and Yuta at every opportunity. And as for Taeyong…

“Can I ask you something?”

Yuta nods, still staring affectionately down at Sicheng’s grave. “Shoot.”

Jaehyun awkwardly clears his throat and mumbles, “What did it feel like to love him?”

“Huh?” Yuta glances up in surprise. “You mean Sicheng?”

Then, realization dawns on his face. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Taeyong, right?”

Jaehyun refuses to speak.

A knowing smile graces Yuta’s lips. “Well,” he shrugs. “I could tell you, but it’s not gonna help. I like Taeyong enough, but I don’t know him as well as you do. Whatever’s been up with you two is something that you’ve got to figure out yourselves.”

“Wow,” Jaehyun glares. “Thanks for being so helpful.”

“Sass me all you want; you know I’m right.”

Truthfully, he does. If he were to ask Sehun or Johnny or Ten or Doyoung the same question, their answers would be different from Yuta’s. They all have different love stories, so how can Jaehyun expect one concrete answer?

Love is, well, love. It sure as hell doesn’t make any sense, and it never will.

“But,” Yuta suddenly speaks up. He’s not looking down at the stone anymore, but instead into the horizon where the sun’s still rising. “I guess I’ll tell you anyway.”

Jaehyun hurriedly reaches out for Yuta’s arm. “Hyung, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. You’re right anyway, so if it’s too painful you don’t have to say anything.”

Yuta shakes his head. “I’m not doing this for you, Jae. It’s for me.”

“Hyung—“

“What’s the point of holding on to him when he’s gone?” Yuta points out, tired and sounding like he’s suddenly aged ten years. “I thought the only way to remember him would be to keep all my memories of him to myself. But it’s not healthy to keep everything bottled up. So let me tell you, Jaehyun. For me”

Without waiting for an answer, Yuta sighs and curls his hand on top of the stone into a fist. “There’s this one thing that happened around three months after we started dating, but it’s been a while so I don’t really remember. But anyway; it was that after that one job where I accidentally shot him in the leg. You remember that?”

Jaehyun winces at the memory. How could he ever forget? That job took place three years ago, when they’d been instructed to take out some woman who refused to pay back a debt. Back before the team had figured out a reliable system, they’d gone into jobs more or less hoping for the best. Doyoung made the hit that day, but Yuta had gotten surprised by the sudden appearance of the woman’s cat. As a result, he’d jumped back in shock and accidentally pulled the trigger. Sicheng just so happened to be standing next to him.

Funnily enough, while everyone had panicked and fussed over the wound, Sicheng himself had been the only calm one. He’d gritted his teeth through the pain and, through a shaky laugh, dryly remarked how of course Yuta would be the one to shoot someone because of a cat.

Yuta smiles, but it’s sad and brief. “Classic me, right? Well, he didn’t say anything around you guys, but once he was patched up and we were back in our room, I couldn’t take it any more. I told him I was sorry and that I’d been stupid and he should be angry. But he still wasn’t. He just told me to shut up and that it was fine. I wasn’t having any of it though, so I kept apologizing and arguing with him until eventually he snapped too.

Grimacing, Yuta shakes his head and says, “He really didn’t hold anything back, let me tell you that. Absolutely laid everything out on me and destroyed whatever shred of dignity I had left. I’ll spare you the details, but basically Sicheng had a lot to say about my stupidity, and you know how he doesn’t sugarcoat things. So yeah. I got wrecked.”

Jaehyun tilts his head in bemusement. “And how exactly is this about your feelings for him?”

Yuta casually slaps a hand over Jaehyun’s mouth, much to the latter’s ever growing confusion. “Shhhhhh. I’m getting there, so stay quiet and listen like a good boy.”

“Anyway,” he continues, thankfully removing his hand from Jaehyuns’ face. “So there I was, getting the worst telling off of my life. I think I almost cried, but that’s not important. And suddenly, while he’s telling me how stupid I was, I get hit with this realization that thank God it was just his leg. Of course I’d prefer to not have shot him at all, but the fact that he was still alive to yell at me made me realize how important he was. He’s a textbook tsundere, so of course he’d never admit how much it hurt in front of you guys. But when it was just the two of us, he was so honest with me. I don’t know how to explain it, but it just felt intimate, you know? Like even though I could’ve killed him, he was still opening up to me. He still trusted me when I didn’t deserve it.”

“He was in the middle of saying something about how if I ever shoot him again he’ll kill me, when I just blurted out ‘I love you’. The best part is that Sicheng didn’t even seem surprised; he just glared and told me to shut up. But I knew that things would be okay.”

Jaehyun can’t help but laugh at the thought of Sicheng’s reaction. “That sounds like something he’d do,” he grins fondly. “I never knew that happened, though. I figured he was actually pretty mad, but I didn’t know he yelled at you.”

“Yeah,” Yuta smiles again, and this time it’s just as fleeting but not quite so melancholic. “I could always depend on him to keep me in check. Guess that also made it harder when he died. Good thing you snapped me out of it.”

“You’re giving me too much credit,” Jaehyun responds by rolling his eyes.

(But he knows Yuta’s right)

He opens his mouth to say more, but at that very moment he hears light footsteps behind them.

“What’s up, hyungs?” Mark yawns, shoving them apart so he can plop down right in the middle. He yawns again as he curls up against Jaehyun’s side and mumbles, “Mind if I crash the party?”

“Who said this was a party?” Yuta comments in amusement. Any trace of his earlier seriousness is gone as he teasingly pokes Mark’s cheeks.

Lazily, Mark swats away Yuta’s hand while burrowing himself against Jaehyun. “Well now I realize it’s not. Nobody goes to a goddamn grave at ass o’clock in the morning to have a party. I bet you were talking about feelings or whatever.”

“Spot on, Markie,” Jaehyun grins, wrapping an arm around the intruder’s shoulders. “But why are you up at, I quote, ‘ass o’clock in the morning’? You hate waking up early.”

Mark scoffs. “Well I do, but then I woke up to one of you walking through the living room. Then I tried falling asleep again, but then I heard another person. So I figured I’d see what you were up to. Sorry to crash the feelings party. Carry on and pretend I’m not here.”

“Will do,” Jaehyun laughs.

Yuta laughs too, the sound freer and lighter than it’s been in a long time. “Well,” he turns his attention back to Jaehyun. “Yeah, maybe I’m giving you too much credit. But at the end of the day, he’s dead and I can’t bring him back. So as much as that sucks and as miserable as I still am, I’ve got to accept that.”

“But if there’s anything the past ten months have taught me, it’s that you really shouldn’t hide your feelings. Because shit’s gonna happen anyway and you can’t always control it, so the only thing you can do is not waste too much time,” Yuta finishes with a knowing look.

Jaehyun ducks his head. “It’s not that complicated,” he admits. “But it’s not that easy, either.”

From between them, Mark lets out a derisive snort. “Why do adults suck at feelings so much? You like Taeyong-hyung and he likes you back. So what if it’s complicated? Just tell him you like him and then you can figure out the rest together. Sounds pretty easy to me.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Jaehyun groans, definitely not embarrassed by the fact that a twenty year old is telling him how relationships work. “I’ve said some pretty awful things to him and it’s happened multiple times already. I thought that maybe things could work, but then I fucked up again. He told me he loved me, and you know what I did? I told him to find someone else. I don’t know why he still bothers with me when all I do is treat him like shit.”

Yuta sucks in a breath through his teeth, his brow wrinkled in thought. “Well, you definitely shouldn’t have said that, that’s for sure,” he begins slowly. “But other than that, I think you’re underestimating him. He doesn’t talk much about whatever’s going on between you two, but I think he understands that you’ve got a hell of a lot on your plate right now. You’re not particularly nice when you’re stressed out or confused, but that’s to be expected. Taeyong’s mature enough to know that even when you’re not nice to be around, you’re far from a bad person.”

“That doesn’t excuse all the shit I’ve made him go through,” Jaehyun argues. “Just because I didn’t mean it doesn’t make it’s okay for me to say those things. He deserves better than someone who can’t even keep their emotions in check. I—”

“Hyung,” Mark interrupts in a deadpan. “You realize that literally all of this can be solved by you talking to him, right? All you gotta do is walk up to your room and tell him you like him. Then it’ll be easier to talk about all your daddy issues and life trauma or whatever. It’s not complicated at all—it’s simple as hell, honestly.”

Yuta hides his smile behind his hand. “Hate to admit it, but the fetus is right. Jae, you can sit here and ask me about my experience all you want, but this is all up to you and Taeyong. At some point you’ve got to take responsibility for your own life.”

Softly, he adds, “You helped me realize that life isn’t always fair, but we’ve got to suck it up and keep moving. So you should take your own advice and talk to him. Be better, Jaehyun.”

It suddenly occurs to Jaehyun how ridiculous the situation truly is. Here, in the pink dawn of a chilly morning, sit three men together before the grave of their dead friend. One former Yakuza member still mourning the love of his life. One kidnapped child turned assassin, freed from his prison at the cost of his friends. One moody, haunted degenerate seeking warmth he’s too afraid to receive. And they’re talking about love, of all things.

Taeyong once mentioned how even though they’re all broken down and tired, they keep moving because it’s the only way to survive. They don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow or who’ll be the next to die, but it’s okay. Day by day, they forge their way through until they make it to another sunrise.

As he rests his cheek against the top of Mark’s head and run a hand over Sicheng’s name, Jaehyun can’t help but feel lucky.

(Some interesting information on Jaehyun’s father:

1. Although he killed his wife, that didn’t stop him from constantly bringing women home.
2. There was one woman in particular whom Jaehyun recognized. She wasn’t the prettiest of his father’s conquests, but she had wide, kind eyes and always smiled at him before disappearing into the bedroom. The favorite, his father would say with a smile bordering on fond. The one.
3. In the early hours of the morning on Jaehyun’s tenth birthday, his father called him over to his room.
4. The favorite was still asleep in bed.
5. Jaehyun’s father shot her without even looking.
6. That’s what happens when you fall in love.)

If he truly wants to be better like he’s been saying the past year and a half, then he needs to take initiative. A big first step? Clearing the tension that’s surrounded the house since Johnny and Ten left.

Yuta and Mark were easy because they’d been on his side in the first place. Although they made it clear how they didn’t support all of Jaehyun’s actions, they agreed that he had reason to be upset. And considering the conversation they’d just had, Jaehyun figures the three of them are more than okay.

Kun and Taeyong, however, are different stories.

Jaehyun can’t remember speaking more than five words to Kun since the realization about Beijing. He can’t tell if Kun knows about this newfound knowledge, but whether he does or not, Kun certainly knows that he let slip too much information. So for the past week, Kun has been avoiding any and all interaction with Jaehyun, always managing to mumble an inaudible excuse before darting away. Which is fine with Jaehyun, really, because he doesn’t even know where to begin with confronting Kun about the truth. It’s not like he can just go up and say "Oh I know what you did in Beijing and you’re going to hell for it,” and that unfortunately is the only thing Jaehyun can think to say. So for now, he’s alright with not talking to Kun just yet.

And then there’s Taeyong. If talking to Kun weren’t already daunting enough, then the mere thought of making eye contact with Taeyong is enough to make Jaehyun grow even paler than he already is. How does one even apologize in a situation like this? I’m sorry I said fuck off to your love. Please still like me even after I’ve treated you like shit. Do you hate me?

Jaehyun’s still deep in thought as he enters their shared room. Unsurprisingly, Taeyong isn’t there—after recent events, he’s made a point of giving Jaehyun his space. Some nights, he even sleeps in the room that once belonged to Johnny and Ten, and if that doesn’t make Jaehyun feel any shittier then he doesn’t know what does.

But Taeyong’s not here right now, so, without thinking twice, Jaehyun walks past his own bed and falls backwards onto Taeyong’s.

No, he suddenly remembers. It’s not just Taeyong’s bed—it’s Doyoung’s, too. Once upon a time, when he still could, Jaehyun would fall asleep every night to the sound of Doyoung’s soft snoring. The presence across the room used to bring him the same warmth as Taeyong’s slim build pressed against his back. Jaehyun lets out a laugh when he remembers the rabbit plushie Doyoung hugged every night but shoved underneath his pillow in the morning because I’m too old to have stuffed animals goddammit.

Instinctively, Jaehyun reaches a hand up and fumbles around blindly until he can slip his fingers under the pillow. The plushie’s not there, obviously. Before Taeyong moved in, Jaehyun wouldn’t let anyone touch Doyoung’s belongings. The rabbit had remained stuffed under the pillow for months, and it’s been a long time since Jaehyun’s seen it. Taeyong probably moved it to the closet or something when he brought his stuff over.

Suddenly, Jaehyun’s fingers touch something cool and smooth. Frowning, he grasps at the object and pulls it out to inspect it. To his surprise, it’s a simple, leather-bound notebook. Something of Doyoung’s, perhaps? But that doesn’t make sense, because Taeyong would have found it and put it somewhere else.

Without hesitation, Jaehyun flips the cover open and finds himself face to face with the portrait of an attractive, mild-mannered man. It’s just a simple charcoal sketch from the shoulders up, but the way the man smiles lightly and stares through him sends a chill down Jaehyun’s spine. Moon Taeil, the characters hastily scribbled by the man’s shoulders read.

Ah, Jaehyun realizes as it clicks in his mind. Hyung’s sketchbook.

As much as he can imagine Taeyong as an artist, Jaehyun’s never actually seen any of his works. Perhaps years of being told he wasn’t good enough had its toll on him, because this sketchbook is clearly something that Taeyong’s been hiding for some time now. Briefly, Jaehyun entertains the thought that maybe he should shut the book and put it back because it’s not exactly his business, but then he purposefully ignores his conscious and continues flipping through the pages.

The next page shows a youthful man—or boy?—whose eyes narrow into cheerful crescents when he smiles. Lee Jeno, Taeyong wrote.

(Jaehyun also very purposefully ignores how this Lee Jeno’s eye smile reminds him of Sehun)

Kim Jungwoo. He looks to be around Jaehyun’s age, but his cheeks are much fuller and his floppy hair poofs around his forehead like a mushroom.

After him is Lucas Wong. Dark, bushy eyebrows stand out the most on a beaming, refreshed face. He reminds Jaehyun of Sicheng in a way, but he can’t exactly pinpoint why. Another foreigner, maybe?

Jaehyun flips through more portraits of people he doesn’t know, assuming that they’re all Taeyong’s friends and acquaintances from before he got evicted from his apartment and his life. Even from an untrained eye, Jaehyun can tell why Taeyong was rejected so many times. The pictures he draws are pretty and Jaehyun can definitely imagine these people as if they were right in front of him, but the lack of refinement is clear. Taeyong’s lines are free but unsteady, with some unnecessarily dark and angry while others are barely visible. His drawings are realistic and he doesn’t hold back, but that’s the problem. It’s like Taeyong draws with no real control—like his hand has a mind of its own and he’s left desperately scaling what he can to keep up.

But still; Jaehyun thinks his art is beautiful.

Around halfway through the sketchbook, Jaehyun finds the first drawing of one of the hitmen. Mark’s smiling just like he used to, with all his teeth showing and his eyes closed. It’s a sharp contrast to the Mark of today, who’s grown out of a bright teenager into a more reserved and sarcastic adult. Seeing Mark so cheerful and carefree knocks the breath out of Jaehyun’s chest, so he swallows and flips to the next page—only to choke on air again.

Unlike most of Taeyong’s portraits, Sicheng isn’t exactly smiling. Rather, he’s gazing down at someone with a fond albeit exasperated expression fitting for a tsundere. And judging by the mop of hair at the bottom of the page and a hand reaching up to touch Sicheng, Jaehyun’s guessing the unseen person is Yuta.

As he continues flipping through the pages, Jaehyun can’t stop the small smile that crosses his lips as he recognizes each of his friends. Kun scowling and gesturing menacingly with a spoon; Yuta showing off his arms in a sleeveless shirt; Johnny and Ten sitting side by side staring intently at Ten’s computer; Sicheng again, still not smiling but with a raised brow; Ten with his glasses on; Sehun leaning over the counter; Mina playing with blocks.

And then he comes face to face with himself.

It’s no secret that Jaehyun’s attractive. Ridiculously handsome, but in an approachable way, Doyoung used to say. And Jaehyun would scoff in return, because him, approachable? Right. He’s always known that he gets attention for his looks, and he used to use that knowledge to his advantage. Frustrated and needing a distraction? He’d go to nearest bar and wait for some man or woman to approach him, then use them for a night and leave without another thought. At least, that’s what he used to do. Hell, he hasn’t even had sex since he went home with Taeyong the night after Doyoung left. He’s been approached plenty in the past year and a half, but the appeal of using people for a release is no longer there. Jaehyun knows that even if he looks “princely” as Ten says, he’s anything but that. He’s ugly and twisted, and everything and everyone he touches breaks.

Taeyong, however, doesn’t seem to think so. He doesn’t draw Jaehyun with a smile nor a brooding expression; the face staring back up at Jaehyun is beautiful, but open with a vulnerability that causes his lungs to cave in. The Jaehyun on the page has all the muscles on his face relaxed and neutral; his hair is swept back and gracefully arranged. His eyes, however, are wide with raw honesty, pleading for understanding. Is this, Jaehyun wonders dimly, what he truly looks like? He can snap and scowl and glare all he wants, but at the end of the day, is this who he is? Desperate, pleading, and lost?

“Oh.”

Jaehyun jerks his head up in shock to see Taeyong standing at the door, face lowered and shoulders hunched in discomfort. He’s always been short and skinny, but now he looks so small Jaehyun wants to rush over and keep him safe.

“Oh,” Taeyong mumbles again, still keeping his head down. “You weren’t supposed to find that.”

The words don’t come out the first time, so Jaehyun coughs to free his chest and tries again. “Is this how you see me?” He asks quietly, afraid of the answer.

Taeyong just nods. “Yeah,” he says.

Jaehyun doesn’t know whether he wants to cry or laugh, so he swallows and avoids both. “What happened to me?” He wonders out loud. “Why did I turn out like this?”

“You’ve had a terrible life, Jaehyun,” Taeyong replies softly. He finally lifts his chin as he takes a few steps closer, cupping Jaehyun’s face in his hands when he reaches him. “You don’t deserve anything that’s happened to you—not Doyoung leaving, Sicheng dying, and especially not the things your father did. Nothing in your life has been fair, but you’ve accepted it all anyway.”

Dropping his voice, Taeyong whispers, “Why do you do that to yourself, Jaehyun? How do you still have the will to live when your life has been tragedy after tragedy?”

Taeyong’s hands are warm and soft, and Jaehyun’s gone so long without his touch that he can’t resist leaning forward and resting his forehead on Taeyong’s chest. “Because I always told myself that it’s better than being dead,” Jaehyun answers, voice muffled as he breathes in against Taeyong’s shirt. “Because if I send a bullet through my head, it means my father wins. It means everything that bastard did got the better of me and even though I killed him, he’s always had the upper hand.”

“Why did he do this to me?” Jaehyun moans. The tears start to freefall and Taeyong can definitely feel them through his shirt, but Jaehyun doesn’t—can’t—care. “Why couldn’t he have shot me that night, too? Why did he take everything away and put me through hell? Why did he have to do any of this? I’m his son—his family. Shouldn’t he love me? Why didn’t he love me?”

Taeyong shifts so he can sit on the bed, keeping his gentle hold on Jaehyun’s face and letting him lean against him. “I ask myself that same question every day,” Taeyong laughs shakily. “My parents aren’t exactly the best, either. I didn’t go through hell like you did, but they always made it clear that I could only earn their love if I did everything as they said. And when I ended up as a disappointment…well, they dropped me the second they knew.”

“I think…we’re always told that our families love us and we love them too, but nobody ever tells you who counts as family. ‘Blood is thicker than water'? That’s bullshit. You aren’t obligated to love anyone who doesn’t love you, and even if they claim they do, they’re not supposed to treat you like shit. Family is more than who shares the same blood; it’s about finding people you and connect and feel safe with—people you can love without feeling like you have to.”

“Whether you think you’re worthy or not, you do have a family,” Taeyong murmurs. “It’s not your father; it’s Yuta and Kun and Mark and Johnny and Ten and Sehun and Doyoung.”

Gingerly, Taeyong lifts Jaehyun’s chin up until they’re eye to eye. “I’m here, too,” he whispers. A tear slides down his cheek. “And I love you, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun’s breath hitches in his throat. This is it. This is the right time. This is where he wears his heart on his sleeve and says the most honest, yet daunting, words of his life.

This. Is. It.

“I,” he begins to say, only for the words to get trapped in his throat. “I…I…”

No, the voice in his head whispers. Not now.

If the words slip out now, it wouldn’t be fair on either of them. Not to Taeyong, who’s been endlessly patient and forgiving when he should’ve ran a year ago. When he has his own problems but still loves with a pure, open innocence that can’t be forged. It’s not fair to Jaehyun either, who, in the span of a year and a half, lost some of his most treasured friends and has had his life turned upside down on multiple occasions.

He loves Taeyong. He loves him, and that’s why he can’t say it.

Right now their paths have finally intersected; they finally see each other, but they’re still too delicate to move any further. And judging by the way Taeyong’s expression softens and he leaves a kiss—a promise—on Jaehyun’s tear-stained cheek, he understands.

So Jaehyun settles for pulling Taeyong close, holding on for dear life as he breathes what feels like his last gasp of air.

“Wow,” Sehun whistles lowly. “That’s quite…intense.”

Jaehyun nods, his eyes trained on his cup of tea on the coffee table. “Yeah,” he agrees. “It was definitely something. It’s good, right? Like we obviously still have more we need to talk about, but it’s a start.”

Sehun taps his chin in thought. “For sure. I’m glad you’re talking again.”

After a pause, he adds, “And thank you for talking to me, too.”

Coming to Star Blossom wasn’t an issue; walking up the stairs to Sehun’s apartment was. It took willpower Jaehyun didn’t even know he possessed to force himself up each step until he could knock on the door. The relieved, happy look on Sehun’s face, however, made it all worth it.

Regardless of all the secrets, Sehun has still been one of the most important people in Jaehyun’s life. He brings a sense of normalcy Jaehyun hasn’t been able to find since he was five years old. Being with Sehun helps him feel calm, but in a sad way. How unfortunate that they have to be bonded through grief and loss, drawn together because of tragedy.

When he looks at Sehun, he sees himself. Sehun sees himself in Jaehyun, too, but he also sees someone else. Someone he shouldn’t have lost.

A bitter taste enters Jaehyun’s mouth, so he quickly gulps down some tea to wash it away. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t work.

“Hey, hyung,” he begins slowly, already dreading bringing the subject up. “What would…well…if you could know what really happened to Lu Han, would you want to?”

Sehun doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he raises a brow and calmly remarks, “I’m assuming you’re only asking because you know what happened, then? Because you know more than I do?”

“Yeah,” Jaehyun swallows. “I think so. Or, well, I at least know who pulled the trigger.”

Without a word, Sehun stands up and makes his way into his bedroom. When he comes back out, his hands are full of white slips of paper he then unceremoniously throws down on the coffee table. Curiously, Jaehyun picks up a few and reads them.

7/4/18

Departure: Seoul, SK

Arrival: Beijing, PRC

3/16/20:

Departure: Seoul, SK

Arrival: Beijing, PRC

9/1/21

Departure: Seoul, SK

Arrival: Beijing, PRC

2/27/23

Departure: Seoul, SK

Arrival: Beijing, PRC

Jaehyun’s breath hitches. “Oh my god,” he whispers, clamping a hand over his mouth in horror.

“Mmhmm,” Sehun nods grimly. His expression is somewhere between a smile and a grimace as his hands curl into fists. “I buy these once a year. Every time I tell myself I’ll actually get on the plane, but it never happens. I’m so fucking weak I can’t even set foot in the city. Sometimes my friends make plans to go to places in China and I never go with them because I can’t bring myself to enter the goddamn country. So yeah, it’s that bad. I’m that pathetic.”

Exhaling loudly, he sits back down on the couch and buries his face in his hands. “I want to be better, Jaehyun. It feels like every time I take a step forward, I end up a hundred steps behind. I want to carry on with my life. I really do, but no matter what I try I’m always stuck.”

“Maybe it sounds counterproductive to say this, but I don’t want to know. I guess I could finally get closure, sure. But then I’ll never stop thinking of ways I could’ve stopped it from happening. Knowing will just kill me even more.”

Jaehyun opens his mouth to argue or console—he’s not entirely sure which—but then he shuts it again. Sehun’s right; knowing the truth about Doyoung almost killed Jaehyun for the second time. When a door closes, that’s it; there is no return.

“Okay,” he says. “I understand, hyung.”

It’s not like it’s his place to tell, anyway.

Sehun grimaces and lets out a shaky laugh. “Thanks, Jaehyun.”

Suddenly, he checks his phone and the grimace deepens. He glances back up at Jaehyun with a sheepish expression and says, “Although, heads up: Doyoung and Sejeongie are gonna be here in like, fifteen minutes. Just in case you don’t want to be around for that.”

The bitter taste comes back. “Yeah, I definitely don’t,” Jaehyun agrees quickly. “Bye, Sehun-hyung. I’ll see you later.”

His hand is already on the doorknob when he stops and whirls back around to face Sehun. “Can I ask you something?”

Sehun blinks in surprise. “Sure. What’s up?”

“Is he happy?”

A small, knowing smile graces Sehun’s lips. “He is.”

Jaehyun closes his eyes and inhales. Okay. That’s good. That’s great, actually. Everything’s going to be okay. He knows it.

“Then tell him I’m glad,” Jaehyun says.

He leaves without another word.

(The first time Jaehyun and Doyoung met:

“I have something for you,” his father announces. “Come with me.”

Dutifully, five year old Jaehyun follows his father to the living room. He peers around the much taller man’s legs to find a boy around his age sitting on the couch.

“Who’s he?” Jaehyun questions. Out of habit, he nervously clutches onto his father’s leg as he observes the stranger.

Jaehyun’s father doesn’t hesitate to kick him off. “His name is Kim Doyoung,” he remarks coldly. “Meet your new brother.”

Doyoung doesn’t move or show any sign of hearing them. He remains rooted in place on the couch, staring emotionlessly down at his hands.

Cold fingers tighten around Jaehyun’s shoulder and grip down hard. “You’ll take care of him, won’t you, Yoonoh?” It’s not a question; it’s a threat.

Gulping down his fear, Jaehyun nods and slowly approaches the boy now appointed as his brother. “I will,” he vows.)

Jaehyun blinks. “Hyung?”

Shifting his weight from side to side, Taeyong sheepishly smiles up at him. “I thought you might be here,” he explains. “You weren’t home and nobody had a clue where you were, so I took a lucky guess.”

“Did something happen?” Jaehyun asks, stepping out from under the door of Star Blossom to lightly run his hand over Taeyong’s shoulder. “Everything okay back home?”

Taeyong leans into his touch. “Nah,” he murmurs contentedly. “Nothing happened. I’m just bored.”

Harnessing self-control he didn’t even know existed, Jaehyun maintains a straight face and says, “Oh really? Mark didn’t want to play with you?”

Taeyong shoots him an unimpressed look. “Really killing the mood here, mister,” he grumbles.

Jaehyun laughs and wraps an arm around Taeyong’s shoulder as they head home. “You could’ve just called, you know. I was gonna be home soon anyway.”

“Well,” Taeyong sniffs. “Half the time you never answer the phone, and the other half you don’t talk very much. Besides, I wanted to see the real person, not just hear your voice.”

“Clingy, much?” Jaehyun teases.

That remark earns him a jab in the ribs. “Go back to being emo already, why don’t you?”

“I’d like to think I’ve moved past that phase,” Jaehyun responds smoothly. After a second’s pause, he quietly adds, “I’m sorry, by the way.”

“Huh?” Taeyong glances up at him in surprise. “What for?”

Jaehyun concentrates on the way their steps match, perfectly synced up without intending to. “For being so hot and cold all the time,” he says. “I know I’m not an easy person to be around, and a lot of the time I take out my emotions on people who don’t deserve it. You especially, hyung. So I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you.”

“I want to be better,” he confesses. “I’m trying my hardest, but things have been pretty unexpected recently. Thank you for being so patient. Thank you for believing in me, Taeyong-hyung.”

A warm weight rests on his shoulder. “You know I’m always here for you,” Taeyong murmurs, his hair tickling Jaehyun’s neck.

Once again, Jaehyun thinks of Sicheng when he heres those words. Except this time, he doesn’t remember his friend’s bloody body; he sees Sicheng with a coy grin and assured posture—the real Sicheng.

The rest of the walk home is uneventful, with Taeyong occasionally making some remark about the scenery and Jaehyun fondly nodding along. When they get to the house, Jaehyun’s arm is still around Taeyong and he’s more than reluctant to remove it.

Taeyong giggles at the look on Jaehyun’s face. “Maybe you think you’re scary, but you’re actually pretty cute, Jaehyunnie. Like a little kid.”

“Shut up.”

Taped to the wall is a note from Yuta saying that he and Mark are out on a run. Judging by the sounds of running water in the kitchen, Kun is making lunch.

Kun.

Jaehyun instinctively sets his hand on Taeyong’s shoulder to get his attention. “I need to talk to Kun for a bit. Alone,” he explains. “Do you mind going upstairs for now?”

Taeyong purses his lips. “You’re not gonna do anything stupid, are you?” He asks warily.

“No,” Jaehyun shakes his head, except he’s not too sure himself how this is going to go. “There’s just something that we need to talk about. Clear the air, basically. I promise it’s not gonna end up the way things did with Johnny and Ten.”

“But—” Taeyong begins to fret more, then he decides against it and sighs. “Just be civil, okay?”

“Of course,” Jaehyun agrees.

And then, without thinking, he slides his hand up to cradle Taeyong’s jaw and kisses him. It lasts for maybe two seconds, but when Jaehyun pulls back, Taeyong’s eyes are blown wide open in shock.

Truthfully, Jaehyun surprised himself too with that one. But oh well, he figures. It’s not like he hasn’t wanted to do that for a while now.

“I’ll be better,” he promises. “I won’t make the same mistakes again.”

“Okay,” Taeyong nods, breaking out into a beaming smile. He doesn’t quite have a crescent eye smile like Sehun does, but he looks cute when his he closes his eyes in happiness. “I believe in you.”

Jaehyun pulls him close for another quick peck before letting go. “Thank you.”

(If a kiss is long overdue, then so is this:

I love you.)

“You can’t wash off guilt, you know.”

Kun whips his head back so fast the plate in his hands slips and clatters against the sink. “The fuck did you just say to me?” He demands, voice low and threatening but not devoid of fear.

Shrugging nonchalantly, Jaehyun calmly rests his hip against the counter. “Trust me, I’ve tried it before. It doesn’t work, so you should probably stop trying.”

“Jaehyun,” Kun speaks through gritted teeth. “Stop talking. Now. I mean it.”

“Yeah?” Jaehyun coolly lifts a brow. “And so what if I don’t? What’s wrong with wanting to talk about Beijing? Aren’t we friends, hyung? Don’t you trust me?”

Kun doubles back like he’s been struck across the face. “Jaehyun, please,” he begs, pathetically sinking to knees as desperation consumes him. “You don’t know what you’re getting into, so stop. Don’t open that door after so many years. You’re not gonna like what you see.”

Jaehyun snorts. “Right. You know, I really couldn’t figure out why you didn’t like Sehun-hyung at first. I saw the way you looked at him when we were at the café—that was the first time I’ve ever seen you look scared, hyung. You seemed ready to bolt at any second and you couldn’t even look at him. And it bugged me for a while because I didn’t think there was any connection between the two of you, but then after he came over, I put the pieces together.”

“Stop,” Kun groans futilely.

“Believe it or not, Sehun and I are pretty similar. We grew close because I’d open up to him about Doyoung, and then he’d tell me about his fiancé in return. His dead fiancé, actually. Told me how they went to Beijing together in 2017, and one day he went up to their hotel room to find his fiancé dead. Shot in the head, so the police ruled it as a suicide. But if it were a suicide, then why couldn’t they find a gun anywhere? Sehun-hyung didn’t want it to be true, but deep down, he did believe it. Does this story sound familiar at all?”

Kun angrily grabs at his hair. “Shut up,” he hisses. “Just shut up.”

“No,” Jaehyun responds airily. “I’m not going to stop just because you feel bad. You don’t want me to open that door? Well guess what: I already have, and yeah, I don’t like what I’ve seen. So unless you want me to tell you what I think happened, you’d better explain the full story right now.”

“It was just a job. I did exactly what I was told to do,” Kun moans, growing more and more upset by the second.

Jaehyun scoffs. “Just a job, huh? Then why did it make you run? Why couldn’t you tell us what happened? What could have possibly been so bad that you chose to leave the country? Because right now, I’m struggling to understand how killing Lu Han was enough to drive you crazy.”

“Because I shouldn’t have!” Kun yells. When he looks up, his eyes are feral and panicked. “He knew I was there, Jae. He fucking knew I was waiting for him, and he just accepted it. He gave me a choice, and I chose wrong. That’s why I had to run.”

Suddenly, Kun can’t seem to stop talking as the words spill involuntarily out of his mouth. “I took a job from this guy named Wu Yifan. He told me that years back, his boyfriend left him for some younger man. Wu was angry and jealous, and he wanted me to make sure that if he couldn’t have Lu Han, then no one could. He said that Lu Han would be back in Beijing for the New Year, so that was when I should strike.”

“I didn’t think twice before accepting the job. When I knew they’d landed, I followed them around for a few days to figure out their schedule and everything. I even managed to steal Lu Han’s hotel keycard so I could get into their room. He was with this other guy all the time, but whenever the guy wasn’t looking, Lu Han would glance over his shoulder. I thought that maybe he knew I was there, but how could he have known? So I ignored any bad feelings and kept going.”

“When I’d figured out their schedule, I got into their room while they were gone and waited in the closet. They came back late and Lu Han asked his fiancé to go down to the front desk and pick up a copy of the card he’d lost. The second the fiancé was gone, I snuck out and was about to do my job. I literally had my finger on the trigger and everything when suddenly, Lu Han asks whom I’m there for. He didn’t even turn around, he fucking knew I was there. And when I don’t say anything because I’m too shocked, he just sighs and says that he knows I’m there for him.”

“I never thought something like that could be possible. Targets aren’t supposed to notice us, and the fact that he had me figured out so easily fucking terrified me. He let me steal his keycard and he asked his fiancé to grab the new one because he knew that would be the perfect setup for me. He knew what I was there for all along, and he had the bravery to confront me. What kind of madman does that?”

“So there I was, frozen like an idiot with my finger still on the trigger. Lu Han gets up from the bed and steps into the hallway for a second before coming back in. Said it was for the CCTV because if he were to end up dead, the first suspect would be his fiancé. He had to have proof that he was still alive after his fiancé left—he was even that prepared that he’d planned that all out. Then he looks me in the eye and says that he knows it was Yifan who sent me. He tells me that he doesn’t particularly care if I kill him or not, but that if I do, I have to keep his fiancé safe. Lu Han opened his wallet and took out a picture of his fiancé—Sehun, he said—and gave it to me, saying how this favor is the price of his life. ‘It doesn’t matter what happens to me,’ he said. ‘I need Sehun to be okay.’”

“I had a choice, Jae. I could’ve left and ditched the job because it was so stupid in the first place. Wu Yifan told me to kill a man just because Lu Han didn’t love him; what kind of message is that? Suddenly I realized that we shoot and stab and kill because other people tell us to, and it’s just because they’re too angry or jealous or upset to think straight.”

“I didn’t have to kill Lu Han. I didn’t want to, but I was too afraid of what would happen to me if I left. So I raised my gun and shot him in the head—all while I was holding the picture of his fiancé.”

“And it gets worse, too. Because after I saw him lying in his blood, I couldn’t move. I stood there forever just staring at his body, wondering what the hell I’d just done. And then I heard a keycard click through the door, so I panic and hide back inside the closet, except I can see through the cracks. I saw Sehun walk in and find Lu Han’s body. I saw him scream and drop to his knees and hold him, begging for him to come back. I’d never heard a scream like that before, and it fucking scared me. He wouldn’t stop screaming, not even when the police came and dragged him away from the body. I snuck out when no one was in the room, but I couldn’t stop hearing that scream.”

“I didn’t know what to do when my whole reality was suddenly being challenged, so I did the cowardly thing and ran. Packed a bag and grabbed my passport and jumped on the first plane out of the country. And the whole time I’m asking myself what the fuck just happened. Why did I kill him? Why did he let me? Why couldn’t I shake this horrible feeling away? I’d never felt guilty before for doing my job, but suddenly I felt like the dirtiest, bloodiest person to exist. I couldn’t do it anymore, but I also didn’t know any other life. So when I found you and Doyoung, I knew that I had to stay because I didn’t want you to end up like me.”

“Jaehyun,” Kun implores despairingly. “I know I did the wrong thing. I wish I hadn’t, but I did it anyway. And I regret it every single day, believe me. Please don’t hate me.”

“I’m not in any position to hate you,” Jaehyun replies emotionlessly. “Wasn’t my fiancé you killed.”

The thing is, Jaehyun knows he’s being a hypocrite. Had Lu Han been nothing more than just another name, Jaehyun wouldn’t have cared. It’s only because Lu Han was Sehun’s that he wants Kun to hurt and know the pain that Sehun’s gone through for six years. Hurting Kun doesn’t help anything or anyone—no matter what, Lu Han is gone and isn’t coming back—but to Jaehyun, it feels like justice in a sick, twisted way.

Kun’s still down on his knees, head bowed and posture ashamed. “I should be hated,” he mumbles miserably. “I had a choice, and I chose wrong. And then I ran because I’m a coward.”

With shaky hands, he pulls his wallet out of his back pocket and pulls something out of it. Silently, he passes it over for.

Oh Sehun, aged down maybe six or seven years, grins up at Jaehyun.

“I don’t know why I’ve kept this for so long, but I can’t throw it away,” Kun admits miserably. “So when I saw that you were friends with him, I couldn’t believe it. I never watched over him like Lu Han told me to, and seeing him reminded me of how pathetic I am.”

Jaehyun doesn’t say anything for the longest time. The truth about Beijing is out. Now what?

Calmly, he holds the picture of Sehun up and rips it in half.

“What the fuck?” Kun immediately springs up, face contorted in horror. “Jaehyun, why would you do that?”

Jaehyun merely rips the picture into fourths, then eighths. “Because holding onto this doesn’t do you any good,” he states as the picture becomes sixteenths. “You said you stayed because you didn’t want me and Doyoung to turn out like you? Then don’t be someone you hate so much.”

“It’s not that easy,” Kun protests, watching with wide eyes as the picture is reduced to nothing but shreds.

“I know it’s not,” Jaehyun nods in agreement. He raises his head to stare Kun straight in the eye and says, “But you can’t just mope around and think you’re doing the rest of us a favor by looking out for us. Maybe you should’ve chosen differently, but obsessing over it won’t bring him back. You can’t stop us from making the same mistakes if you yourself can’t accept what happened. You want to be better? Then try.”

He turns his fist over and lets what remains of the picture fall on the table. “You have to try. Because believe me, it’ll kill you if you don’t.”

“Thanks so much for meeting with me.”

Jaehyun shrugs and slouches down in his chair. “No problem,” he responds. “I owe you one after kicking you out like that.”

Ten averts his eyes. “Not gonna lie, but we kind of deserved it,” he mumbles.

“Yeah.”

The days following the confrontation with Kun, Jaehyun had poring over the decision to patch things up with Johnny and Ten or not. Admittedly, as all of his companions have pointed out, Jaehyun now realizes that he was in the wrong for beating Johnny’s face to a pulp and evicting both he and Ten out of the house. He felt betrayed, sure, and had good reason, but that didn’t justify violence.

(After all, people who use their fists first are hardly ever good. Just look at Jaehyun’s father)

After going back and worth between his decision maybe a hundred times, Jaehyun had been startled to receive a text from Ten. I know you said you didn’t want to see me ever again, it said, but there’s something I really need to talk to you about. I’ll be at that café you like around noon. Don’t feel pressured to come if you don’t want to, but just know that I have important information.

“I think you should go,” Taeyong had yawned after Jaehyun woke him up to ask for advice. “You may as well hear him out. What’s the worst that could happen?”

A lot, Jaehyun had been tempted to say. But Taeyong’s more level-headed than him, so he’s probably right. What’s the worst that could happen?

And now, approximately two hours later, here they were. Their drinks have barely been touched and the small table between them feels like an ocean, but here they are.

“Look,” Ten gnaws on his lower lip, a habit he’s always had when he’s nervous. “You know why Johnny married me? Because it sure as hell wasn’t for love.”

That certainly catches Jaehyun off guard. “What do you mean?” He questions, intrigued and a little scared of what he’s going to find out. What with all these sudden revelations and curveballs he’s been dealt recently, he’s not sure if anything can surprise him anymore but he’s still cautious.

Ten bites on his lip some more, clearly already regretting mentioning anything. Finally, he sighs and says, “I didn’t exactly have the greatest home life, either. Let’s just say that it wasn’t anything as intense as your, but it wasn’t fun. After I graduated high school, I flew to America for the summer. I barely had a plan or money, but it was something I knew I had to do. I’d managed to arrange something with a host family. Wanna guess who they were?”

Jaehyun’s mouth goes dry. “Johnny’s,” he states quietly.

“Bingo,” Ten grits his teeth. “I didn’t really interact with him that much, though. My English was decent enough that I could go around by myself, and he had his own life, anyway. But he was nice, though, and I may have had a tiny crush on him.”

“Anyway, as the summer’s almost over, it suddenly dawns on me that I have to go to back to Thailand. Just the thought of being back in that toxic household…I couldn’t do it, Jae. So I did the only thing I could think of: I asked Johnny to marry me.”

Jaehyun, who’d been the midst of taking a sip of coffee, suddenly spits it back in the cup. “What the fuck?” He yelps, staring at Ten in shock. He’s not quite sure whether he should be in awe or in disgust at the thought of eighteen year old Ten’s shamelessness.

“Yup. I did that,” Ten nods sheepishly. His cheeks turn pink as he facepalms, muttering, “My dumb ass immediately regretted that the second I said it, but it was already too late. I wanted to die right there and then, but then he surprised me by saying yes.”

“Wow,” Jaehyun remarks dumbly. Truth be told, he has no idea what else to say. “Wow,” he repeats,

Ten squirms in his seat in embarrassment. “He admitted to me years later that he said yes because he knew I had no other choice. His parents knew it too, so they let it happen. By the next week we were married and I had an answer to the citizenship problem. Then a couple years later the family moves to Seoul, and somehow they manage to get me over, too. And, well, the rest is history.”

“Basically what I’m trying to say is that Johnny is nice. Too nice. He barely even knew me and he agreed to get married. I don’t think he started to have feelings for me until we were twenty something. Even when he wasn’t obligated to love me—he should have hated me for doing that to him—he ended up doing just that. I think that’s why he said yes to helping Doyoung, too. Because he just wants to help people and doesn’t think of himself. I’m not saying this makes faking Doyoung’s death justified, but it at least helps you understand why Johnny did it.”

Ten starts to chew on his lip again, but then he stops himself and shakes his head. Maybe there are tears brimming, but Jaehyun doesn’t comment on it.

“I’m not asking for forgiveness, Jae. What we did was inexcusable, and I’m sorry for it. But that’s not why I’m here. There’s something else I need to tell you.”

“What?” Jaehyun blinks. He'd almost forgotten why Ten had called him here in the first place. “What’s going on, hyung?”

Ten wrings his hands together and can’t quite meet Jaehyun’s urgent gaze. “Remember how you asked me to keep digging into LSM? To try and figure out what’s going on and who’s sending you those notes?”

Jaehyun’s blood runs cold. “What did you find out?” He demands in trepidation.

“It took me a while, but I finally broke through the wall he set up,” Ten explains slowly. “Disclaimer: I still don’t know that much. I don’t know who this LSM is or even his real name, but I got some coordinates. 49.2827 North, 123.1207 West. Wanna take a guess?”

“Hyung, I don’t have the patience for this right now,” Jaehyun glowers. “Just spit it out.”

Ten doesn’t seem at all fazed by Jaehyun’s harsh tone. With a long, drawn-out sigh, he rubs his forehead and says, “Vancouver.”

(The last words Donghyuck ever said, right as he sacrifices himself to push Mark to safety:

“Don’t ever let him find you, Minhyung. Because you won’t get out of that alive.”)

It would be the understatement of the century to say that Doyoung looks surprised. More like he's fucking petrified, stuck somewhere between bewildered and afraid.

“Jaehyun?” He inquires in awe, hesitantly pulling the door open another inch. Doyoung’s brow furrows in confusion as he notices the other man standing by Jaehyun. “And, um, Taeyong, right? What…what are you doing here?”

Jaehyun laces his fingers with Taeyong’s. “We need to talk,” he declares.

Doyoung shoots Taeyong a confused look. The latter just shrugs and says, “I’m in the same boat as you. Jaehyun dragged me here without saying why.”

“Uh huh,” Doyoung nods slowly, still absolutely baffled by the two men at the door. “He’s not about to kill me right now, is he?”

“Wow, ever the joker, aren’t you?” Jaehyun comments sarcastically. “But no, I’m not. We really do need to talk.”

Doyoung still seems aprenhensive, but then he sighs and pulls the door all the way open and gestures for them to come in. “Okay,” he says. “Come on in, then. Make yourselves at home.”

Chapter Text

Taeyong takes two steps inside before he trips over a doll on the ground—that is, until Jaehyun catches him.

“Oh, sorry,” Doyoung mumbles distractedly. He bends down to pick up the doll and continues making his way down the hall, saying, “It’s just me and Mina here right now, so sometimes it’s hard to keep track of where she’s leaving her toys.”

Jaehyun helps steady Taeyong. “Be careful,” he says gently.

Doyoung and Sejeong’s apartment isn’t big by any means, but it’s certainly larger than Sehun’s—not that that’s saying much, of course. The living room barely has enough room for the three adults to maneuver around the coffee table and couch. Mina’s sitting in a sun-soaked area of the floor, stacking blocks up on top of each other and subsequently knocking them down with an amused gurgle.

“Hey,” Doyoung coos, swooping down to envelop her in his arms. “Didn’t I tell you not to leave your dolls on the floor? Huh?”

Mina just giggles as he lightly shakes her.

“Sorry,” Doyoung glances back over at his guests. “Sejeong’s working today and Sehun-hyung’s busy, so I’m on kid duty. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not!” Taeyong responds brightly, his eyes shining as he beams at the toddler. He reaches out a hand to touch her face, then seems to remember that Doyoung’s unfamiliar with him and pulls back. “Um, do you mind if I…?” Taeyong trails off.

Doyoung smiles and hands Mina over. “Go ahead. You must be the famous Yongie she always tells me about. Apparently Sehun’s been using you to watch her when he’s supposed to be babysitting?”

Taeyong blushes. “Guilty as charged.”

Clearing his throat, Jaehyun nudges Taeyong with his hip and says, “Hyung, do you mind watching over her while Doyoung and I talk for a bit?”

“Oh, is that why you brought me here?” Taeyong replies cheekily. “But since I’m not sure how violent you two are gonna get, I’ll take my leave and disappear for a bit,” he adds with a knowing look.

Doyoung coughs. “You can stay here with her. Turn on the TV too, if you want. Jae and I can go talk in the kitchen,” he mutters.

Taeyong nods. “Be civil, boys,” he remarks pointedly. He stares directly at Jaehyun and adds, “Especially you, mister.”

“Hey, why am I being singled out?” Jaehyun rolls his eyes in amusement.

With a giggle, Taeyong takes a step closer and pecks him on the lips. It’s a little awkward because he’s got a toddler in his arms, but the sentiment is appreciated anyway.

Taeyong, it appears, will never fail to surprise him.

In the kitchen, Doyoung cracks open a beer and offers it to Jaehyun, who gladly accepts. Conversations like this, he muses, are always better when done with in presence of alcohol. He takes a large swig as Doyoung opens another, keeping a watchful eye on Taeyong playing with Mina in the living room.

“So what’s up?” Doyoung says at last. He leans against the counter like he’s trying to act natural, but the stiffness in his back says otherwise. “How’d you even know where I live?”

“I asked Sehun-hyung,” Jaehyun responds simply.

“Ah,” Doyoung nods robotically. A flicker of sadness crosses his face as he coughs and mutters, “I heard about Sicheng, by the way. Hyung mentioned it to me. I’m sorry that had to happen to you guys, especially Yuta.”

Jaehyun concentrates on his beer. Part of him is tempted to throw it at the man he used to call his best friend—what right did Doyoung have to say he felt sorry? He’d been prancing around for two years after faking his death, but Sicheng had to remain dead. Doyoung cheated, and he had no right to do so.

“Thanks for your concern,” he says icily. “About a year too late, though.”

Doyoung awkwardly drags a hand through his hair. He glances over in the direction of the living room and, with a strained smile, says, “So when did that happen, huh? I never thought I’d see the day you’d be in a relationship, what with your traumatic daddy issues and all.”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes. “Why does everyone feel the need to call me out for my daddy issues?” He remarks dryly.

“Because they’re kind of the first thing we all notice,” Doyoung replies solemnly, a hint of amusement in his voice through the strain. “If you look up daddy issues in the dictionary you’d find your picture. You’re pretty much the poster child for it, Jae.”

“Shut up,” Jaehyun scowls. On instinct, he reaches out and lightly jabs Doyoung in the ribs with his beer. The gesture feels both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, and it’s damn jarring. It’s been almost two years since Jaehyun last acted this casually with Doyoung, and while his body moves out of memory, the change in their circumstances hits him square in the chest.

He misses this feeling of closeness to someone who’s been through the same trauma and trials, but it’s too late to turn back the clock. Doyoung made his choice, Jaehyun made his. They’re not the same people anymore.

His mouth set in a thin line, Doyoung’s gaze flickers over to Taeyong again. “Sehun’s told me a bit about him. Didn’t say much, but that he’s someone you connect well with. And this whole time I’ve been wondering what it is about him specifically that you’ve grown attached to. Why him, Jaehyun? What’s so special about him?”

“Because he helps me feel safe,” Jaehyun says, the words slipping out of his mouth before he can stop them. “Because he’s one of the people who’s made me realize that I need to be better. Because I feel the closest the happy when I’m with him. Because I don’t hate myself so much anymore”

The last part shocks even himself, but strangely enough, Jaehyun doesn’t feel panicked that they slipped out so easily. It’s all true.

“But anyway,” he clears his throat. “That’s not what I’m here for. I need to talk to you about something important. And I have a favor to ask, too.”

Intrigued, Doyoung quirks a brow and sets down his beer. “What’s going on, Jaehyun? Is it something bad?” He asks, concern dampening his voice and expression.

Jaehyun shakes his head. “I don’t know how bad yet,” he admits. “I’d prefer not to drag you into this mess, but I’m desperate. Just answer a few questions for me, hyung, and please don’t try and pry. That’s all I’m asking from you.”

Doyoung bites down his lip. He’s clearly struggling with some conflicting emotions or another, but Jaehyun refuses to care. Not right now, when he needs answers more than anything else.

“Okay,” Doyoung says at last, albeit reluctantly. “Ask away.”

Jaehyun breathes out a sigh of relief, his chest hurting as he exhales. “This might seem random, but did you ever hear my father mention anything about Vancouver?”

Fortunately or unfortunately, Doyoung is quick and sharp. “Vancouver?” He echoes warily. “As in, the place Mark is from? Where he was kidnapped from after his parents were killed?”

Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes and spit out some snarky remark, Jaehyun just swallows and nods. “The very place,” he confirms grimly.

Doyoung purses his lips, eyes traveling up to the ceiling as he thinks. Jaehyun waits, anticipation burning through his veins. He knows it’s a long shot—it’s been eight and a half years since they shot the whole house down, and if Jaehyun himself has never heard Vancouver from his father, what are the odds Doyoung would know? It’s not like Doyoung ever spent much time with Jaehyun’s psycho father. But Jaehyun doesn’t have many other options other than talking to Mark himself, and that’s something he’d rather wait to do later.

The silence has aged Jaehyun ten years by the time Doyoung speaks up again. “There was this one time,” he says slowly, each word selected carefully. “I went up to his study to ask him something, but the guard at the door stopped me. Said he was on the phone with an important client overseas. I don’t know which country, but I swear I heard him speaking English through the door. It could’ve been someone from Canada, but I don’t know. I’m sorry I don’t have anything else to offer, Jaehyun, but that’s all I can think of.”

“Are you sure?” Jaehyun presses.

Doyoung sadly shakes his head. “I’m sure, Jaehyun. I’m really sorry I couldn’t be more help.”

He sounds genuinely devastated at being unable to provide any other information, which only twists the glass even deeper into Jaehyun’s lungs. “It’s okay,” he lies through his teeth in an attempt to hide his disappointment. “It’s been a long time since we were last with him, so it’s unsurprising you can’t think of anything. It’s fine, really. Thanks for trying, hyung.”

Defeated, Jaehyun turns to go when Doyoung calls out his name to stop him.

“Didn’t you say you also have a favor to ask?” He reminds. “What is it?”

Jaehyun hesitates. “Never mind,” he shakes his head. “It’s kind of stupid, and it’s too much to ask. Just forget it.”

“Bullshit,” Doyoung snorts. “Jaehyun, after everything I’ve put you through, no favor you want can be too much. It’s the least I can do after lying for so long. So tell me what you need.”

Distantly, Jaehyun can hear Taeyong’s high, reedy laugh accompanied by Mina’s squeals. It suddenly hits him how small the apartment is—the kitchen’s cramped with just the two of them occupying it, the ceilings are low, and the mess of books stacked upon each other in the middle of the narrow hallway makes things feel even tighter. Based on the way Doyoung was dressed the time he came to Sehun’s apartment, he looked like some ordinary office worker. How he even got a job with his nonexistent high school, much less university, education, is beyond Jaehyun. Doyoung’s got bags under his eyes too, but his restlessness is most likely caused by his two year old daughter and not nightmares of horrible, piercing screaming. His wife’s a successful business owner, whereas Jaehyun’s in love with a disowned, evicted artist he met at a bar.

They couldn’t be any more different right now, except Doyoung is still Doyoung. His posture hasn’t changed at all—back slightly hunched, limbs perennially tensed up as if ready to spring into action at any second. His eyes dart around every few seconds to check his surroundings, and even the way his hands automatically form half-fists hasn’t changed, either. Doyoung hasn’t changed quite as much as Jaehyun thought.

It’s that thought that breaks just a tiny bit of Jaehyun’s resolve. “Why did you leave?” He whispers, terrified of the answer. “Because of me? Or because of her?”

A smile briefly crosses Doyoung’s lips before his expression becomes more melancholic. “That’s a good question,” he muses thoughtfully, eyes glazed over as he stares past Jaehyun’s shoulder. “When Sejeong and I first got together, I didn’t know how long it would last. I thought she’d run once she found out the truth, but I was wrong. She was upset, obviously, and maybe that should have been where things ended. But you know what she said to me instead of breaking it off?”

Without even waiting for Jaehyun to answer, Doyoung continues and says, “She said, ‘Just don’t die’. She hated the fact that I had to live this double life and put myself in danger every time I went out on a mission, but she cared too much about me to just let me go. Whenever I had to come back to the house, she’d give me this look like she didn’t know if she’d ever see me again.”

“Then Mina happened and, well…seeing Sejeong in secret was one thing, but I couldn’t be a part time father. I was fucking terrified because the only fathers I’ve ever known were mine and yours—one an addict, the other a murderer. I thought I’d for sure end up like one or both of them, but then I realized that if I don’t want to be like them, I have to do better myself. I refused to be someone I hated so much.”

“So I guess that’s why I left. I was selfish and I know it was wrong to just fake my death like that, but if I stayed in your life for any longer, I’d only hate myself more. And that’s something I didn’t want to do anymore—I can’t live hating myself, Jaehyun. Not after I’ve seen what it does to people.”

With a bitter smile, he locks eyes with Jaehyun and says, “I know I’m selfish. It must run in my blood or something, but that’s not an excuse. I’m selfish and I’ve done terrible things, but at least I don’t hate myself anymore. That’s why I left—for myself.”

Doyoung shifts to the side so he can quickly glance into the living room. “I like Taeyong,” he remarks with a light smile. “I don’t know much about him other than some of the things Sehun’s mentioned, but I like him. And you don’t seem to hate yourself so much anymore now that you’ve met him, so I’m grateful to him for that.”

Jaehyun’s breath hitches in his throat.

“So what is it you need?” Doyoung questions insistently. “Tell me, Jaehyun. I want to help.”

Bowing his head so Doyoung can’t see his face, Jaehyun murmurs, “If anything happens to me,” he begins slowly. “Anything. I need you to make sure the others are alright. Taeyong and Mark and Yuta and Kun and Sehun and even Johnny and Ten. I need you to promise me you’ll watch over them.”

“Jaehyun!” Doyoung responds in alarm. His eyes widen as he adds in hushed whisper, “What the hell are you talking about? Are you in danger? Tell me, goddammit Jae—”

“Just promise me you’ll do it,” Jaehyun interrupts with a weary shake of his head. “I’m not saying anything’s going to happen for sure because I still don’t really know what’s going on. But if I don’t make it, I need you to do this one last thing for me. Please, hyung. That’s all I’m asking for.”

Doyoung moves as if to protest more, then purses his lips and nods, albeit reluctantly. “Okay,” he says. “That’s the least I can do for you.”

Jaehyun smiles gratefully. “Thank you,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut to quell the tears that will fall if he’s not careful. “That means a lot to me, Doyoung.”

A lot has changed in two years. Doyoung will never know what it was like for the others at the house to see Jaehyun deteriorate and spiral into grief, slowly breaking until he found connections with people who helped him stop hating himself. He won’t know what it was like to hear Sicheng’s shout of pain as he was gunned down and Yuta’s subsequent screech of horror. He’ll never witness Jaehyun falling in love with Taeyong, Mark maturing all too much too quickly, or Yuta sitting by Sicheng’s grave every dawn. And Jaehyun’s missed plenty, too; he’ll never know what it was like to watch Doyoung have his first child, get married, start a real job, and become a family man. They’ve grown up and changed, and the gap between them feels like a chasm.

Still. At the end of the day, they’re Jaehyun and Doyoung—two boys who’ve gone through hell and back together. Even when Jaehyun hates Doyoung, he loves him. Because they’re more than just best friends and more than just brothers, too.

“I should get going,” Jaehyun coughs, the weight of the situation suddenly a little too overwhelming.

Doyoung surges forward and grabs his hand. “Wait,” he insists, blinding grabbing at a pen on the kitchen table. Before Jaehyun can protest, Doyoung’s scribbled a series on numbers on his wrist. “If you ever need anything—anything—then call or shoot me a text. I’ll always be there if you need me, Jae.”

“Just consider it,” he adds quickly. “Don’t shut people out when you’re stressed. You’ll only hate yourself again if you do.”

Jaehyun stares down at the numbers. They’re different from before, but what else did he expect? Different Doyoung, different life. Still, the gesture feels warm.

“I will,” Jaehyun promises. “Thank you, hyung.”

He thinks he’s telling the truth. He hopes so.

(A small look at what conspired after Jaehyun and Taeyong left:

Sejeong blinks, her chopsticks frozen in midair. "He came by today?"

Over to the side, Mina keeps slamming her sippy cup up and down instead of actually drinking from it. Doyoung quickly pulls it away from her before turning back to Sejeong. "Yeah. It was pretty unexpected, but Jaehyun seemed stressed about something so I thought I'd talk to him."

He gnaws down on his lip and murmurs, "I'm worried about Jaehyun. He wouldn't tell me much, but there's obviously something wrong."

Sejeong taps her fingers against her chin in thought. "You think we should call someone? Like maybe Sehun-hyung? Or how about...no, I don't know if this is pressing enough to bring him into this."

"I think," Doyoung muses. "I'll need to make a call tonight.")

“What are you doing?”

Immediately, Taeyong presses a thin finger to Jaehyun’s lips. “Shhhh,” he coos with a warm smile. “Don’t move or you’ll ruin it.”

Jaehyun blinks. “Hyung, what the fu—”

Taeyong silences him by pressing down even harder. “Just trust me, Jaehyunnie.”

Stunned by the affectionate name and now curious, Jaehyun obliges and merely observes Taeyong from below. He’d woken up due to the scratching of charcoal and a weight on his abdomen, only to open his eyes to find Taeyong sitting on him and diligently scribbling something into his sketchbook. Not like he had any complaints, though. Taeyong looked cute with his lips pouting in concentration, and who’s Jaehyun to reject his warmth?

“Okay,” Taeyong says after a few minutes. He slides off Jaehyun’s torso and rolls down next to him on the bed, proudly propping the sketchbook in between them. “Tell me what you think!”

It takes a moment for Jaehyun to recognize himself on the page. Taeyong must have started drawing him while Jaehyun was still asleep, as his eyes are closed and face relaxed. His hair fans across the pillow like a crown and oddly enough, he actually looks his age and not worn down by all his troubles.

Taeyong hums as he nestles his head into the juncture between Jaehyun’s neck and shoulders. “Usually you’re up before me, so I was surprised to find you still sleeping. I couldn’t resist the opportunity and thought I’d immortalize the moment,” he explains cheerfully. “You looked really peaceful, Jaehyunnie. I don’t see that a lot.”

“Yeah?” Jaehyun just barely manages to choke out. “Can’t say I’ve seen that a lot, either.”

He hasn’t felt properly relaxed or serene since Doyoung died—no, even before then. He hasn’t felt peaceful since he woke up to gunfire twenty-one years ago, when the course of his life was completely altered for good. Since he was five, his life has been filled with guns and knives and fists and bitter words and death and now at twenty-six, it’s not like much has changed. Or, at least he doesn’t think anything has changed. It certainly doesn’t feel like his life is any less twisted and violent, but the figure in charcoal says otherwise.

“I’m proud of you, you know,” Taeyong comments through a small yawn. He’s gone back to tracing the numbers inked onto Jaehyun’s ribcage. “I know it wasn’t easy for you to talk to Doyoung again, but you did it anyway. And you were civil, too! You’ve really exceeded my expectations, Jung Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes. “Thanks a lot, hyung,” he deadpans as he absently runs his fingers through Taeyong’s hair.

Taeyong giggles. “All jokes aside though, I really am proud of you. You’ve always said you want to be better, and you’ve been trying hard. I’m glad you’re opening up more.”

“I am, too,” Jaehyun agrees. “You know, this probably doesn’t make any sense, but…even though I know I can’t take back all the shitty things I’ve done and said, it’s like a weight has been taken off my shoulders? Like I think I can actually be happy now?”

“I probably don’t deserve to be happy. Hell, the only thing I deserve at this point is death. But somehow, I feel like it’s not too late for me. Doyoung started over, so does that mean I can, too?”

He turns to stare Taeyong in the eyes. “I want to believe it’s not too late—that even after my shitty life and the shitty things I’ve done, I’m still allowed a chance. More than anything, I just want to try.”

Not quite able to meet Taeyong’s eyes, he softly adds, “It’s not too late, right?”

Taeyong doesn’t say anything for a long, painful moment. His fingers have stilled in their ministrations over the black ink, only starting to move again when he murmurs, “I don’t know.”

Jaehyun flinches. Realizing his mistake, Taeyong quickly says, “I’m not saying that it is too late or anything! I just…well, I also don’t know if it isn’t?”

“I think that if you really tried, you could do it. You could find a way to start a normal life and maybe not forget everything that’s happened, but at least leave it behind. If your friend could do it, then so can you. I believe in you, Jaehyun.”

Those aren’t the most reassuring words, but they’re enough. As he lies in bed with a man he thinks—knows—he loves, Jaehyun can’t help but hope. He hopes for a future where he’s not in some house in the woods, but in an apartment overlooking the city. A small one, maybe, but big enough for him and Taeyong and perhaps a child or two. He hopes for a life that exchanges guns and ordered killings for peaceful mornings and cozy evenings on the couch. It’s a beautiful, perfect life, and one that, oddly enough, doesn’t seem too far away.

Dare he say it, Jaehyun thinks he’s happy.

It’s such a shame that it took him this long. Because now more than ever, he doesn’t know how many days he has left.

Kun’s been avoiding him like the plague.

Not that that’s surprising, of course. In fact, Jaehyun doesn’t blame him. Kun’s always been steady and mature on the outside, but his occasional snaps and bursts of anger hinted towards a more turbulent inner state. And now that he’s been found out for what he’s done to Lu Han…well, again, Jaehyun doesn’t blame him.

The others have picked up on it, too. It’s not hard when Kun so obviously leaves the room whenever he sees Jaehyun, or when he’ll speak to everyone besides him. Yuta keeps sending the both of them knowing looks, but he doesn’t say anything about the matter and leaves them be. Taeyong won’t speak up about it either, understanding that whatever’s going on between the two of them isn’t his business.

Mark, however, is a different story.

One night, as Jaehyun’s killing time by watching TV, a skinny finger pokes him on the shoulder. “Hey, hyung?” Mark’s voice rings out, nervous and unsure. “Can I, uh, talk to you for a second?”

Considering he’s drowsy and comfortable with a dozing Taeyong nestled up against his side, Jaehyun would really prefer not to. But he hears the urgency in Mark’s tone, so he gently props Taeyong up against the couch and follows Mark up the stairs.

Mark leads him up to his new bedroom—formerly Johnny and Ten’s—and shuts the door behind him. Jaehyun quirks a brow in confusion. “What’s up, kid?” He inquires.

Nervously, Mark fidgets with his hands and, without looking Jaehyun in the eye, says, “What’s going on with you, hyung?”

“What?” Jaehyun pauses. “Nothing? At least, I don’t think there’s anything?”

Mark exhales loudly. “Hyung, it feels like you and Kun-hyung hate each other or something. You won’t talk or even look at each other—what happened?”

An icy fist grips Jaehyun’s heart. “It’s nothing,” he shrugs it off as nonchalantly as possible. “Look, Mark, it’s nothing serious, okay? We’re not fighting and we definitely don’t hate each other, but some stuff just happened and it’s better for us to not talk to each other right now. That’s it. Nothing you have to worry about.”

Angrily, Mark jerks his head up. His fiery glare pierces through Jaehyun as he shouts, “Stop saying that! Stop telling me that I don’t have to worry about things that are clearly bothering you!”

Without waiting for a response, Mark rushes on. “Maybe I’m just a kid to you, but I’m old enough to know that something’s wrong. You’ve got everyone else fooled into thinking you’re happy or whatever, but I can see that you’re still sad all the time. Even when you’re with Taeyong-hyung you look at him like you think you’re not gonna see him again. What’s wrong, Jaehyun-hyung? You can tell me things, you know.”

Mark’s right. He’s absolutely right, and that’s why Jaehyun automatically reacts in way that’s so wrong. Because this isn’t just a matter of Jaehyun’s mercurial mental state; it’s about Mark and his life. It’s about keeping him safe above everything else. And maybe Jaehyun’s doing this all wrong, but he needs Mark to be okay.

“If I tell you it doesn’t concern you,” he remarks coldly, lifting his chin so he can stare down at Mark. “Then it doesn’t.”

“Oh come on!” Mark yells, throwing his hands up in frustration. For the first time in his life, he walks right up to Jaehyun and jabs him in the chest. “Stop doing that! I’m just trying to help, and you’re closing yourself off again. You talk all the time about wanting to be a better person, but you keep making the same mistakes. You can’t just bottle things in and try to fix things by yourself—talk to me, hyung! Or if not me, then just someone. It’s for your own good.”

No, Jaehyun sadly thinks to himself. It’s for you, Mark.

“I’m fine,” he insists. “I have everything under control. I know what I’m doing, and trust me when I say that it doesn’t involve you that it really doesn’t. Please, Mark. Believe me.”

Mark, however, only scowls. “Whatever,” he snaps. “Bullshit your way through life all you want, hyung. I don’t care anymore.”

In a softer, more defeated voice, he adds, “I just want to help you, Jaehyun. Why won’t you accept that?”

(Some insight on Mark Lee's life before he escaped:

Renjun's smiling, but it's grim and not a particularly pretty sight. "So, Minhyung?" He raises a brow. "The others are all in. Are you?"

"I don't know," Mark hisses. "Renjun, this is crazy. This is practically suicide--there's no way we can pull this off without getting caught. Come on, there's got to be another way."

A hand smacks down on his shoulder. "Fuck that," Donghyuck declares stonily. "I don't care if we get caught; we need to try. So come on, hyung. Just say you're in."

"Besides," Renjun adds, his smile now twisted so much it's barely recognizable. "Trust me, you of all people won't get caught. The rest of us will make sure of it.")

“So you fought with the fetus, huh?”

“Shut up,” Jaehyun grumbles from where he sits slouched over the kitchen table. He bangs his forehead against it, only to regret that decision a split second later.

Yuta, that ass, just laughs at him. “Good job, Jung Jaehyun. Now you’ve got both Kun and Mark mad at you. Must be a new record or something,” he remarks as he chops vegetables.

Taeyong, who’s in the midst of cooking some kind of soup, reaches over to swat Yuta with a washcloth. “Don’t be so mean to him,” he chides. “It’s not his fault he takes out his daddy issues on others. Well, it actually is but we’re gonna give him a pass because of his exceptionally shitty life.”

“Wow, that really makes me feel better,” Jaehyun mutters flatly.

Taeyong, the brat, has the audacity to wink at him.

“What’d you argue about this time?” Yuta asks curiously. “I couldn’t hear what you guys were shouting about, but it seemed pretty serious. And who even started it?”

A twinge of guilt blooms in Jaehyun’s chest. “I did,” he groans, banging his head on the table again. “It was definitely me. Mark just wanted to know if I was okay, and then I snapped at him.”

“Classic,” Yuta mutters under his breath.

Ignoring his friend’s sarcastic remark, Jaehyun just groans again. “Why am I like this?” He laments. “I always push people away when they only want to help. Is this why people always leave me? Why Doyoung literally faked his death so he could get away from me? Am I that horrible to be around?”

Yuta rolls his eyes. “Okay, you need to stop that,” he states. “Jaehyun, stop throwing yourself pity parties whenever you mess up. You’re not a bad person, Jae. Not even close. Doyoung didn’t leave because of you and you know that. Johnny and Ten left because you told them to, sure, but that’s because they betrayed all of us. I don’t know why Kun’s avoiding you, but I’m sure there’s a good reason for it that doesn’t have to do with you being a horrible person. And as far as Mark goes, well, that’s not because you’re bad; it’s because you’re a good person but you keep fucking up. You think you’re doing the right thing, and maybe you are. I don’t doubt that your motives are good, but you’re constantly fucking up because you think you can solve everything by yourself. Well news flash: You can’t, so stop pretending you can.”

After his long rant, Yuta very calmly returns to chopping vegetables. Taeyong stares at him in awe, the soup long forgotten.

“Wow,” Taeyong whistles lowly. “You’ve just said everything I’ve been trying to tell him all this time. Amazing.”

“Thanks. I try.”

Jaehyun, meanwhile, remains frozen in place. Yuta’s words echo around his mind, bouncing from one corner of his brain to the next faster than he can comprehend.

Stop throwing yourself pity parties.

You’re not a bad person, Jae. Not even close.

You’re a good person but you keep fucking up.

You think you can solve everything by yourself.

You can’t, so stop pretending you can.

Suddenly, it hits him.

“Jaehyun?” Taeyong blinks in surprise as Jaehyun shoots up, his chair clattering to the floor. “Um, what are you doing?”

“I know what I need to do,” Jaehyun announces. Hastily, he snatches the first jacket he sees—judging by the noise of protest from a certain Japanese man, it probably belongs to Yuta—and shrugs it on. “Holy shit, I’ve got it. I think I finally know what I’m doing.”

Yuta quirks a brow. “Okay, that’s great,” he nods slowly. “But do you have to do whatever you’re doing now? It’s almost dinner. And don’t just take my jacket without asking!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Jaehyun waves his hand in some vague apology. “Just eat without me. I’ll be right outside, so don’t worry.”

Right as he’s about to leave, Taeyong appears to block his way with a stern expression. “Stop right there, mister,” he warns. “What’s going on? What’s so important that you need to run out? Can’t this wait until later?”

Jaehyun shakes his head insistently. “Trust me hyung, this is something that needs to be done right now. It’s really important.”

Taeyong bites his lip. “Jaehyun,” he murmurs quietly. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“I do,” Jaehyun says. He clasps a reassuring hand on Taeyong’s shoulder and bends down to kiss him. “Maybe I’m not always right,” he admits against Taeyong’s lips. “But I know that this is something I have to do. So trust me, okay?”

It takes a moment, but at last Taeyong nods. “Okay,” he whispers. He stands up on his toes and kisses Jaehyun back. “Go for it.”

Jaehyun can’t help the smile that breaks across his face. “Thanks, hyung,” he kisses him once more. “Love you.”

Taeyong freezes, but Jaehyun doesn’t notice. He’s already on his way out the door, head swimming with his epiphany.

(Slowly, Yuta turns to Taeyong with an incredulous expression. “Did he just…” He trails off.

A light blush dusts across Taeyong’s cheeks. “Oh, he did,” he confirms giddily. “Yes, he did.”

“Damn,” Yuta whistles. “You think he realized it?”

“Nope,” Taeyong declares, turning back to his cooking. “But that’s Jaehyun for you.”)

Outside, Jaehyun takes a seat on the ground. He runs a hand over Sicheng’s grave and pulls out his phone with the other, dialing a number he hasn’t called in a while now.

“Hey,” he says when the other end picks up. “I need to ask you something.”

(Meanwhile:

Doyoung breathes a sigh of relief when he hears the other's voice. "Hyung," he says. "I need your help.")

Footsteps echo behind him until they stop and Jaehyun feels a presence behind him. “Still out here?” Kun comments. “It’s been an hour, Jae. The others are worried about you.”

“You mean you’re not?” Jaehyun remarks dryly.

A long, deep sigh resounds in the air. Kun drops down next to him and loosely links his hands together in a prayer. “You know that’s not what I meant,” he mumbles.

“I know.”

Kun doesn’t say anything for a long time. He remains sitting with his eyes closed and hands together, murmuring almost inaudibly under his breath in Mandarin.

At last, he opens his eyes. “I miss him,” he says, sorrow coating his voice. “I wasn’t as close to Sicheng as you and Yuta were, but I still remember how he was when he first came here. Barely spoke a word of Korean and needed me by him all the time to translate. And then he didn’t need my help anymore, so it felt like I didn’t serve a purpose in his life anymore. I think he still appreciated me and knew that we had something in common because we’re both from China, but other than that we were very different people.”

“Still, though; I felt different when he was around. In some sick, twisted way, I felt like I was back home. Like I could speak to him in Mandarin and pretend I was still in Fujian, long before I went down the wrong road. Call me selfish, but having him helped me pretend that I wasn’t such a bad person.”

“Of course,” Kun sighs wearily. “I could pretend all I wanted, but deep down I always remembered that I am a bad person. You know why I picked up killing, Jaehyun? Because I didn’t have any other ambition in my life. I got roped into the wrong crowd and I knew they were bad news, but I didn’t have the willpower to leave. So things got worse and worse over time until one day I found myself in that hotel room in Beijing. People like you and Mark—you end up like this because of other people. Because they hurt you and break you down until you have no other choice. I always had a choice, Jae. I could’ve done something to take control of my own life, but I never did. Every bad thing I’ve done and shitty feeling I’ve lived with is all on me. I’m the only one responsible for turning out like this.”

“Bullshit,” Jaehyun interrupts. He twists his hands around the hem of Yuta’s jacket, forming fists as he urges himself to keep his emotions in check. “That’s not how it works, Kun. My father ruined my life, but I didn’t have to keep killing. I could’ve turned myself in to the police. I could’ve tried to be normal like Doyoung. I could’ve done so many things differently, but I chose this because it was easy—because it’s the only thing I’ve ever known and I was too afraid to change. I had plenty of choices, too, but I chose wrong.”

“I hate myself,” he declares emotionlessly. “I hate myself so fucking much. I’ve killed some people who deserved it, but how many didn’t? How many Yangs and Parks did I shoot just because someone told me to? How many lives have I ruined just like my father did to me and Doyoung? And what was it all for in the end? What’s the point?”

“Every day I ask myself why I didn’t end it. After I killed my father, I should’ve put a bullet through my own head and done the world a favor. But I didn’t do that because I’m selfish and thought that my father would win. Like hell was I about to let that happen. I lived with that mentality for seven years until I realized that that’s not the way to live. What’s the point of breathing when it’s just to spite someone who’s already dead? I’d just hate myself even more.”

“Doyoung told me that he left because he didn’t want to hate himself so much anymore. He got it way before I did. But now I’ve realized that it’s not enough to say you want to be better or to live accepting how miserable you are. You have to try and not hate yourself so much anymore. Maybe you’ll never actually love who you are, but anything is better than hating yourself.”

Kun smiles sadly. Perhaps there’s a tear glistening in the corner of his eye, but then it’s gone before Jaehyun can get a better look.

“I miss the days when you were too angsty to talk to us,” Kun jokes, barely managing to choke out his words. “Made me feel a hell of a lot less stupid. Now I’m wondering when you got so mature.”

Jaehyun cracks a smile as well. “When my father shot the rest of my family,” he deadpans.

It’s a horrible, horrible joke and nothing to laugh over, but they do anyway. They laugh until tears fall and their stomachs hurt, until they can’t feel anything but the numbness that comes from joy or pain or perhaps both. They’re stupid and miserable and downright fucked, but all that matters is that they can still laugh.

When they finally manage to sober down, Jaehyun’s eyes once again rest on Sicheng’s name—which reminds him, actually, of something he’s been wondering for days.

“Why’d you do it?” Jaehyun inquires carefully. “You said it yourself that you knew you were wrong, but you shot him anyway. Why?”

Kun examines his hands like they’re the most interesting things he’s ever seen. “I don’t know,” he confesses slowly. “I think…if I really had to ask myself why, I think I’d say that it was because I was afraid. Afraid of not following orders, afraid of having my whole world challenged—something like that. But honestly? I think it’s because I didn’t know what else to do, so I acted on impulse.”

With a wry grin, he adds, “Such a shame that my impulse had to be wrong.”

In a way, however, Jaehyun disagrees. Kun shouldn’t have killed Lu Han; that much is a fact. Lu Han didn’t deserve to die just because his jealous ex couldn’t bear the thought of him marrying someone else. Sehun didn’t deserve to go through years and years of endless pain, dreaming of a life that could have been—a life he’d grazed with the tips of his fingers but couldn’t catch in time. Not even Kun, who’d pulled the trigger, deserved to suffer from the guilt and anguish of doing something he knew was wrong.

But somehow, what happened that night in Beijing brought everything else together. Because Kun fled after realizing what he’d done, and coming to Seoul led him to Jaehyun and Doyoung. Without Kun, perhaps Sicheng wouldn’t have stayed with them, and then who knows if Yuta would’ve stayed, too. Jaehyun wouldn’t have ever opened up to Sehun had they not shared a similar grief. If it weren’t for Sehun, Jaehyun never would’ve known that Doyoung were still alive.

As tragic and unfair Beijing was, it served as the catalyst for the rest of this tumultuous experience. And, as much pain as it’s brought to everyone involved, there have been bright, beautiful moments, too. Few and far between, perhaps, but beautiful nonetheless.

Jaehyun wouldn’t trade those moments for anything.

Long past midnight, when his fingers have grown numb with the cold, Jaehyun finally goes back inside. The ground floor is dark and empty—or so he thinks, until a lamp suddenly flicks on to reveal a figure sitting on the couch.

Mark.

“It’s late,” Jaehyun remarks. “You should go to bed.”

The boy—man—on the couch shakes his head. “I want to talk to you,” Mark says adamantly. “I’ve been waiting for you to come back inside for hours now, and like hell am I about to just ‘go to bed’ when you’re finally back.”

Be better.

“Okay,” Jaehyun agrees. He takes a seat next to Mark and wraps an arm around his shoulder. “Talk to me, then.”

Mark shoots him an unimpressed look but curls up against his side anyway. “You know what I want to talk about,” he mutters under his breath.

Jaehyun does, and that’s why he doesn’t know how to approach this conversation. On one hand he can’t tell Mark the truth. He can’t let him know that whoever killed Mark’s family and subjected him to this life is somehow connected to this ongoing nightmare. Whatever pain Jaehyun went through, Mark’s gone through worse—he’s seen his three best friends die, for fuck’s sake. Jaehyun can’t put him back through those memories.

But on the other hand, Mark is right. He’s an adult, and he’s arguably more mature than Jaehyun’s ever been. This is a matter directly concerning him; he deserves to know.

So Jaehyun lowers his head until they’re pressed temple to temple. “I’m in trouble,” he reveals quietly. “I don’t exactly know with whom or how serious it is, but I am. And I think the rest of us are, too.”

“What?” Mark exclaims in shock. He pulls back and stares at Jaehyun with eyes as wide as plates. “Jaehyun-hyung, what are you talking about? What do you mean by trouble?”

“I don’t know,” Jaehyun shakes his head. “Like I said, I’m not sure how serious it is but I do think it’s nothing good. Ten was looking into it for me and he found out some information. It’s not much, but we do know something important.”

He places his hands on Mark’s shoulders to steady him and says, “Mark, we think that whomever we’re in trouble with, they’re connected to you and the people who took you. So I need you to tell me right now: Do you know anything about them? Anyone specifically who might be targeting you and why?”

Oddly, Mark doesn’t even look surprised. His eyes widen even more, but then he squeezes them shut and his hands curl into fists. Jaehyun can feel him shaking, but before he can ask, Mark breathes out shakily and opens his eyes again with a sad, sad expression.

“It was only a matter of time,” he whispers breathily. “Donghyuck was right.”

And then he throws himself into Jaehyun’s arms, body wracked with sobs. His tears slide against Jaehyun’s neck and stain the collar of his shirt, but Jaehyun cares more about the crying boy in his arms. “Mark,” he hisses, conflicted between comforting him and demanding for more information. “Mark, what are you talking about? What do you mean it was only a matter of time? Goddammit, you need to tell me right now—”

“I’m so sorry, hyung,” Mark interrupts, voice uneven. “It’s because of me that you’re in trouble. It’s all my fault.”

He takes in a deep breath and, voice shaky, says, “I didn’t tell you the full story about how I escaped. It’s much worse than what you think.”

Dread pools in Jaehyun’s stomach. “What do you mean?” He demands.

Mark rests his head against Jaehyun’s shoulder. “Yerim, Renjun, and Jeno weren’t captured or shot or whatever I told you. Neither was Donghyuck, although he did push me to safety.”

“Renjun was always good at science and making things with his hands, so he was the one who first suggested it. Then Jeno and Donghyuck were on board, and soon so was Yerim. I was the last, but I joined the plan, too. On the day I escaped, Renjun, Yerim, and Jeno got into trouble with one of the guards and were being interrogated. Before they got taken away, they told me and Donghyuck to climb through the vents and make it to the grate open to the outdoors. So we did that, but then Donghyuck shoves me and out and closes the grate back over him. He tells me to make sure I never get caught, and then he pulls the detonator Renjun made out of his pocket.”

Jaehyun’s heart sinks. “Please don’t tell me what I think you’re about to say,” he whispers.

Mark sniffles. “I’m sorry, hyung,” he hiccups. “But it’s exactly what you think.”

“The bomb went off. And it took out everyone inside—Yerim, Renjun, Jeno, and Donghyuck included.”

Unsurprisingly, Jaehyun doesn’t sleep at all that night. Not even Taeyong’s warm body peacefully curled up next to him can calm his mind enough for sleep to come.

He’s far too afraid of what’ll happen if he closes his eyes. Which nightmare will plague him tonight? Doyoung’s supposed death? Sicheng’s screams? His father?  Kun shooting Lu Han? Or will it be new imagery of Mark, watching as his friends sacrifice themselves for him?

The second peeks of sunlight start filtering into the room, Jaehyun throws the covers off and makes a beeline downstairs to the coffee machine. Once he gets his cup, he goes outside and sits down on the front steps, breathing in the cold morning air.

He’s about to take a sip of his burning hot coffee when suddenly, he notices something on the step below where he’s sitting. It’s a simple white, square-shaped envelope with a red seal. Written on it in black ink are characters that cause the cup to slip out of Jaehyun’s hand and shatter on the steps.

Jung Yoonoh.

Shaking, he plucks the letter off the step and breaks the seal. It’s nothing, he tries to tell himself. You’re just imagining this. This isn’t real.

Inside the envelope is a picture of a young boy, maybe somewhere around five or six years old. He’s got eyebrows that look like the outline of seagulls and wide eyes. The toothy smile is childish and premature, but Jaehyun would recognize it anywhere. How could he not know Mark?

It takes him a moment to realize that there are words scribbled on top of the photo. And when he does, he wishes he hadn’t noticed.

It’s a familiar address, one that Jaehyun knows all too well. He grew up confined in those four walls, spending every day in terror as he waited to see what his father would do next. A house in a neighborhood that’s been deserted since an eighteen year old boy shot his father in the head.

Below the address reads:

Bring the boy.

Chapter Text

(His father barely glances up when the door to his office opens. “Hello, Yoonoh. I wasn’t expecting you,” he remarks frankly, absorbed in polishing his golden watch with a handkerchief.

“You weren’t supposed to,” Jaehyun replies evenly.

“Oh?” Jaehyun’s father finally looks up. “You had an enjoyable birthday yesterday, I’m assuming? The job wasn’t anything too difficult, was it?”

The mocking undertones in his voice rattle Jaehyun to the bone. But this time, he’s not afraid. He simply grips at the gun on his belt and, with a fake smile, says, “No, of course it wasn’t.”

Quickly, he pulls the gun out and, without warning, strikes the barrel across his father’s face. “And neither will this one,” Jaehyun smirks.)

Taeyong stirs when the blankets are pulled up and a body slides in next to him. “Jaehyunnie?” He mumbles sleepily, clumsily reaching out for the other man. “Why are you awake? It’s so early.”

Jaehyun responds by lacing his arms around Taeyong and hugging him so tightly the latter lets out a surprised squeak. “Jaehyun?” Taeyong asks, voice muffled against Jaehyun’s chest. “What’s wrong?”

“I love you.”

Taeyong stills.

“I love you,” Jaehyun repeats, voice cracking at the same time tears spill. “I love you, hyung. I love you.”

“I-I love you too, Jaehyun,” Taeyong murmurs, unable to stop the smile that blooms.

Jaehyun desperately gasps for air. “God, I love you,” he cries. “I love you so much, but it’s too late.”

“What?” Taeyong tries to pull back, but Jaehyun’s grip is too strong. “Jaehyunnie, you need to tell me what’s wrong. I know you’re not okay right now and I think you’d feel better if—”

“Hyung,” Jaehyun interrupts sadly. “Hyung, just let us stay like this for a bit. One hour. That’s all I need.”

Because that’s all the time I can spare, and I want to spend it with you. Because I don’t know if I’ll have another hour, minute, or second left to be with you after today.

An eternity passes before Taeyong says, “Okay.”

When the hour is up, Jaehyun reluctantly leaves the bed and strides into the hallway. Mechanically, he knocks on each door and gives the same short explanation to each person.

“We’re in trouble.”

Yuta and Kun both shoot him questioning looks, but they nod nonetheless and head down to the living room. Mark, however, pales and immediately surges forward to clutch at Jaehyun’s frame. “It’s about me, isn’t it?” He asks in a hushed tone.

Jaehyun runs a hand through Mark’s hair. “It’s about all of us.”

As Mark pads down the stairs, Jaehyun takes a moment to breathe in an out. Because this is it: the beginning of the end. Hurriedly, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials the same number he’d called the night before. “I need you to come here now,” Jaehyun says in lieu of a proper greeting. He hopes the urgency in voice translates over the phone as he adds, “And bring what you found last night, too.”

Yuta reels back in confusion. “The fuck is he doing here?”

Awkwardly, Ten waves and, with a fixed smile, explains, “Jaehyun requested for my presence.”

“Jaehyun did?” Kun exclaims with a raised brow. “Wow, such character development.”

“Shut up,” Jaehyun rolls his eyes with no real malice. “Ten-hyung has some important information for us that we all need to hear right now.”

All eyes turn to the newcomer. Ten fiddles with the keys on his computer and avoids all eye contact. “Last night, Jaehyun called me asking to do something important. He wanted me to research all the instances in South Korea and the Vancouver area in which entire families were murdered but one child was never found. I stayed up all night looking into it.”

“And?” Jaehyun raises a brow impatiently. “What did you find?”

“Hold on,” Yuta holds a hand up in confusion. “Why’d you ask him to search that? It’s…oddly specific, isn’t it?”

Kun’s mouth thins to a line. “Don’t you get it, Yuta?” He points out emotionlessly. “Family killed, child missing—it’s exactly what happened to Jaehyun and Mark.”

Simultaneously, everyone except Jaehyun and Ten’s jaw drops. The latter nods grimly, says, “Exactly. So I scoured all these records and you wouldn’t believe how many cases identical to theirs I found.”

“How many?” Kun whispers in awe.

A hand slips against Jaehyun’s, fingers interlacing with his. Jaehyun doesn’t even need to look to know it’s Taeyong. He presses himself against the smaller man, guilt striking his heart when he feels trembling. Taeyong’s scared, and he has every right to be.

I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this, Jaehyun thinks apologetically as he squeezes Taeyong’s hand in his. I’m sorry you had to meet me.

Ten presses down on a key. “Sixty-two,” he announces bleakly. “Sixty-two instances of a murdered family and missing child under the age of five. And that’s only in Korea and Vancouver—there could be hundreds more for all I know, spreading all across the world.”

He turns his laptop around so everyone in the living room can see the screen. “I found two files that seemed awfully familiar. So I managed to run the picture of the kids through aging software and, well…see for yourselves.”

Two men stare out from the screen, eyes hollow and soulless. Some details aren’t quite right, but they all know without a doubt whom they’re looking at.

Jaehyun and Mark.

“Wait,” Mark interrupts the hushed silence. “Are there people looking for us or something? Are we like, missing persons? Why are we in the database?”

Ten chews on his lip in thought. “Well,” he commences painstakingly slowly. “No one’s been looking for Jaehyun, that’s for sure. His parents were both only children and the grandparents died a long time ago. The authorities suspected Jaehyun and Doyoung when they found their father dead, but that was dismissed and left as unsolved. But as for you, Mark…”

“Anyway,” Ten suddenly changes the subject. “I didn’t get just your records, either. Mark, tell me if you recognize these four here.”

He clicks a few keys and the pictures of Jaehyun and Mark disappear. They’re replaced by three boys and a girl, all around the age of sixteen or seventeen. Their faces don’t register anything in Jaehyun’s mind, but judging by the way Mark reels back and lets out a squeak, he can guess their names.

Renjun. Yerim. Jeno. Donghyuck.

“How…” Mark trails off, taking a step back as he stares at the screen in horror. “How did you…you found them?”

Ten dips his head down. “Out of the sixty-two taken children, fifty of them are native to Korea. Oddly enough, the other twelve from Vancouver were also Korean. So then I thought, these ringleaders or whatever must have been in Canada for a short time and took advantage of the large Asian community in Vancouver. That doesn’t narrow down the list of possible suspects very much, but what I do know is that these people were taking young children and bringing them here to Seoul.”

“No,” Mark shakes his head insistently. “Not Seoul. Somewhere closer to Anyang—that’s where I found myself once I’d escaped.”

“Right. Anyang,” Ten nods absently. He’s always been small and compactly built, but as he all but shrinks behind his computer, he looks practically minuscule now. Jaehyun almost feels bad for bringing Ten into this and putting the other man under such pressure, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And if this isn’t the most desperate of times right now, he doesn’t know what would be.

Ten clears his throat to assuage the tension in the air. “So. As I was saying, um. I don’t know how many people are involved in this trafficking plot, but judging by Mark’s story, I’d say there have to be a fair few. Jaehyun’s father may not have been a part of the hideout in Anyang, but he has to be involved in some way. It’s too much of a coincidence for him not to be.”

“He’s involved for sure,” Jaehyun mutters darkly. “Otherwise these people wouldn’t know about the name he gave me.”

Before Ten arrived, Jaehyun had quickly debriefed the others on the situation. The letter in Yang’s office, the red paint on Park’s poster, the man Mark killed during the ambush, and the photograph on the doorstep—all saying Yoonoh. It can’t be a coincidence, it just can’t be.

Yuta now holds the photograph of Mark, which he shuffles around from hand to hand. “So how do these people know about Mark, then? How’d they know he’s here with Jaehyun? And why target Jaehyun if the one they really want is Mark?” He points out.

Ten shrugs. “My best guess,” he speaks evenly. “Is that these people must have been watching you for some time now. Maybe they found out about Jaehyun first and then saw Mark, or maybe it was the other way around. Whatever happened, they want Mark back. Probably as revenge for escaping all those years ago.”

“And they know that the best way to achieve their goal is to fuck with Jaehyun?” Kun guesses with a mirthless laugh. “Hate to admit it, but these fuckers are clever.”

“Too clever,” Ten agrees. “I guess the question now is, what happens next?”

Silence.

“I’ll go by myself,” Jaehyun declares, lifting his chin up defiantly.

Mark leaps to his feet. “No!” He shouts in protest. “Hyung, they want me—I’m not letting you go by yourself!”

“Shut up,” Jaehyun waves his hand dismissively. “You’re not going and that’s final. I’m not about to give them what they want.”

“But—”

“This is not up for discussion.”

Yuta and Kun exchange knowing looks. “Jaehyun’s right,” Yuta says. “It’s better for you not to go, Mark. But I’m not letting Jae go alone—I’m coming with.”

Jaehyun whips his head up in shock. “Absolutely not—” he starts to argue, only to get cut off by Yuta’s harsh glare.

“You’d be an idiot to go in without backup. I know I said I wouldn’t do jobs anymore after Sicheng died, but this is an exception. It’s not just a job, it’s life or death,” Yuta counters coolly.

“I’m coming, too,” Kun announces. He stares down at his feet as he mutters, “It’s been years, but I still know how to shoot a gun. I’ll look after you two.”

Jaehyun opens his mouth to protest, but Taeyong squeezes his hand tightly as if to say, Stop. “Kun and Yuta are right,” Taeyong says quietly, head ducked down. “It’s not safe for you to go in by yourself. You’ll need as many people as you can get.”

“Which is why I should go, too!” Mark blurts out in frustration. He turns to Jaehyun with pleading eyes, begging for acceptance. “Please, hyung. The three of you might not be enough, and I can help. Let me go with you.”

“I said no before and I’m saying no now,” is all Jaehyun snaps in return.

Mark glowers, but he sits back down and keeps his mouth clamped shut. Jaehyun hunches his shoulders forward in relief. This isn’t over—far from it, judging by Mark’s brooding expression—but for now, peace has been reached.

Ten coughs meekly. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” he interrupts nervously. “But, uh, if Jaehyun, Kun, and Yuta go, then what will Taeyong and Mark do? That picture was delivered to this house, so whoever’s after you already know where you live. What if it’s a trap and they ambush this place right after you leave?”

“Shit,” Yuta curses. “He’s got a point.”

Jaehyun lets a small smile slip out. “I think I know just the place,” he answers vaguely.

He places a hand on Ten’s shoulder and gratefully says, “Thank you for all your help, hyung. You should leave now and stay somewhere safe.”

Ten gnaws on his lip in worry. “Are you sure? I could always help…”

“No,” Jaehyun shakes his head. “I don’t want to put your life in danger, too. Go.”

“Okay,” Ten agrees reluctantly. Gripping his computer to his chest, he shoots one last look at the group and says, “I’ll see you all when this is over, then?”

Jaehyun focuses on the warmth in his palm, wondering if he can spread it to all the frigid corners of his body. Tightening his hold on Taeyong’s hand, he responds, “We’ll see about that.”

(Something intriguing that occurs only seconds later:

Once the door has closed behind him, Ten sinks to a crouch on the front steps and holds his phone to his ear. “Babe,” he says. “It’s happening today.”

Biting his lip, he adds, “We need to help.”)

Hurriedly, Jaehyun strips off his sleeping shirt and pulls on a black long-sleeved shirt. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this,” he blurts out as he shrugs on a light windbreaker. “I’m sorry you had to get involved.”

From his perch on the bed, Taeyong wrings his hands together and simply replies, “It’s not your fault your life turned out like this.”

“Well,” Jaehyun pauses to slip his guns into their holsters at his belt. “It is my fault that innocent people like you got dragged in to the shitshow.”

Taeyong’s skinny frame sits hunched over, narrow shoulders trembling and bony arms glued to his sides. “This is going to sound selfish,” he speaks up suddenly, voice determined. “But when you said you loved me earlier…why did you wait until now?”

Jaehyun stills in his actions. A knife rests in his hands, and right now that seems a lot more appealing than having this conversation. But he swallows and calmly asks, “What do you mean by that?”

“It’s just…” Taeyong trails off. “Did you say it because you actually mean it, or because you wanted to get it out of the way because you think something bad will happen?”

Ah, Jaehyun thinks. He gets it now.

Taeyong’s afraid.

As steadily as he can, Jaehyun slips the knife into his boot and crosses the room in three long steps. He crouches down in front of Taeyong, resting a reassuring hand on his cheek. “Both,” Jaehyun admits. “I wasn’t in a good place earlier, so I think I said it because I was so panicked. But I do mean it, Taeyong-hyung. The way I said it wasn’t right, but it’s still true.”

Inhaling, he leans up and softly kisses Taeyong. “I love you,” Jaehyun murmurs against his lips.

Something wet touches his face. When he pulls back, he’s met with the sight of Taeyong crying. “Why is the world so unfair,” Taeyong mumbles, unattractively snorting through his tears. “You’re a good person, Jaehyun—why can’t the world just let you be happy?”

Trust me, I’ve been asking myself that for years now. Jaehyun smiles and uses his thumbs to brush at Taeyong’s tears. “That’s just life, isn’t it? Unfair, but we’ve got to deal with it anyway.”

“Well, life’s really shitty then,” Taeyong sniffs, melting into Jaehyun’s touch.

“Oh, definitely.”

Truthfully, he’s scared, too. Scared that after running for so many years, he’s finally run out of stamina. Scared that everything he’s just started loving himself for will crumble in a matter of hours. Scared that just as he’s starting to feel happy, he won’t ever again.

But what’s life without a little fear?

He plants one last kiss on Taeyong’s mouth. “We should go,” he says. “I’ll bring you somewhere safe.”

(“What the hell are you doing?” His father hisses, clutching his forehead in pain. “Yoonoh, stop this foolishness immediately.”

Jaehyun merely smirks and replies by spinning his gun around his finger. “Funny,” he remarks. “The last time I checked, that’s not my name.”

“Stop,” his father barks.

In response, Jaehyun strikes him again. “You want mercy?” He drawls sadistically. “Then say it. My real name.”)

Perhaps the patrons of Star Blossom find it unusual to see a group of twenty-something year olds clad in all black marching up the stairs, but none of them comment. Chanyeol, the barista on duty, regards them quizzically, but lets them pass by without a word.

“Sehun!” Jaehyun calls, urgently pounding on the door. “Hyung!”

The door swings open, revealing not Sehun but a short, slim woman with perplexed eyes.

Sejeong.

Truthfully, Jaehyun’s not sure how he feels towards her. On one hand she’s the reason Doyoung left, but on the other…she’s the reason Doyoung left.

Plastering on his best fake smile, Jaehyun says, “Is Sehun-hyung here? I need to talk to him about something important.”

Sejeong hesitates, gaze flickering back and forth between each unfamiliar man at the door. “You’re Jaehyun,” she states rather than asks. Her voice is deeper than Jaehyun thought it would be, but soothing nonetheless.

Footsteps pad down the hallway. “Sejeong? Who’s there—oh.”

Yuta, Kun, and Mark all gasp.

Doyoung blinks, then summons an identical smile to the one on Jaehyun’s face. “I’m assuming something bad happened?”

“Is going to happen,” Jaehyun corrects. He clears his throat and repeats, “Is Sehun-hyung here?”

Sejeong opens her mouth, but Doyoung nudges her to the side. “Come on in,” he says, pulling the door open wider. “We’re here to help.”

(Doyoung prods him with a foot. “Hey, quick question.”

Lazily, Jaehyun waves a hand in a signal for Doyoung to go on.

“Would you ever take a bullet for me?”

Jaehyun’s eyes flash open. “The fuck?”

“Just answer,” Doyoung flicks him on the forehead.

“That’s easy,” Jaehyun snorts. “If you’re too slow to dodge, then that’s on you and not me.”)

“That’s fucking crazy,” Sehun declares the second Jaehyun finishes telling his story.

“It’s a lot to take in,” Jaehyun admits sheepishly.

Sehun’s eyes bore through his skull. “You know, when I first started talking to you, I thought I had a clue what I was getting myself into. I mean, secret hitmen? That I can deal with. But now there’s this whole child kidnapping and raising to be master assassins thing? And this whole plot where a bunch of kids bombed a secret hideout so one of them could escape? That’s…a bit more than I thought I’d be getting.”

On Jaehyun’s other side, Kun mumbles, “Our lives are nothing but shitshows.” And quite frankly, no one can argue with that.

Sehun drags a hand through his hair, brows scrunched together in thought. “Okay,” he mumbles. “Taeyong and Mark can stay here. It’s not like you have anywhere else to go, and I agree that it’s not safe at your place.”

“But what’s the plan, then?” Sehun demands. “You’re just gonna storm in on your old house and hope for the best? This whole thing sounds like a trap.”

Yuta raises his head. “Oh, it’s definitely suspicious,” he nods in agreement. “But, well, it’s not like we’ve got any other options. If we don’t do this now, then they’ll keep tracking us down. This has to end today.”

“I’m coming,” Doyoung declares out of the blue.

Jaehyun whips his head around so fast his neck cracks. “What the fuck did you just say?” He demands shakily.

Everyone’s eyes are on Doyoung as the former hitman slowly clenches and unclenches his fists. Swallowing, he lifts his chin up and states, “I’m coming with you.”

Sejeong, from where she sits in the kitchen with Mina, covers her mouth in horror, not a sound coming out.

“Absolutely not,” Yuta is the first to speak again. He crosses his arms authoritatively and declares, “Dons, stay out of this. You’ve been out of the job for two years now and you don’t know what we’re up against. Don’t drag yourself into this.”

“I’m already dragged into this,” Doyoung responds stonily. “I’ve been a part of this since Jaehyun’s father brought me to the house; like hell am I just gonna sit here and do nothing.”

“But—” Yuta begins to protest, only to be cut off by Kun this time.

“I hate to say it, but he has a point,” Kun admits begrudgingly. “We don’t have the numbers we used to, and we’ll need as many men as we can get.”

Yuta opens his mouth to argue, but then he stops himself and drags a frustrated hand through his hair. “This is ridiculous,” he groans. “We can’t just let Doyoung do this. Come on, Jae, you’ve got to stop this.”

Jaehyun, however, barely looks his way. He’s too busy boring holes into Doyoung’s head with his eyes, expression neutral and muscles relaxed. “What am I supposed to do?” Jaehyun points out coldly, eyes locked on his best friend. “I can’t tell him not to go. He’s an adult, so he can make his own decisions.”

“Hyung!” Mark cries out in alarm. Desperately, he claws at Jaehyun’s sleeve in an attempt to get his attention. “Hyung, you can’t agree to this! Just let me go with you and Doyoung-hyung can stay here—it’s much safer this way!”

“No,” Jaehyun barks harshly. “Mark, I’m not letting you come with us.”

“Hyung—”

“If I bring you, then these pyschos will have exactly what he wants,” Jaehyun argues with a shake of his head. Quivering, he rests his palms down on Mark’s shoulders and brings him close, burying his face in the young man’s hair. “I’m not letting anything happen to you. Ever,” Jaehyun whispers, holding Mark tight to bring his point across.

Mark crumbles against him. “But—” he begins to object weakly, only to stop himself and grip Jaehyun like his life depends on it. “Hyung, I’m scared.”

The words shatter Jaehyun’s glass heart into a millions fragments, stabbing at the inside of his chest without tenderness. “It’s okay,” he murmurs reassuringly. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

He pulls away and ruffles Mark’s hair, says, “I’ll come back for you, Mark. I promise.”

The awkward sound of someone clearing their throat breaks the tension. “Look, I don’t want to be that asshole or anything who ruins the moment,” Kun begins with conflicting emotions crossing his face. “But we really need to come up with a plan or something soon. We don’t have much time before we need to leave.”

“Right,” Jaehyun nods, unclasping his hands from Mark’s shoulders and stepping back. “Doyoung and I know the house like the back of our hands. If this really has something to do with my father, then I think I know where the mastermind will be waiting for us.”

Doyoung shoots him an unreadable look. “We’ll do this like we used to,” he speaks up commandingly. “Kun and Yuta should stick together and scout out first. Jaehyun and I will follow closely behind and make our way up to the second floor. That’s where the office is.”

“No,” Kun protests. “I don’t know why, but I have a bad feeling that whomever’s targeting Jae and Mark is also targeting you, Dons.”

“Huh? Me?” Doyoung quirks a brow. “But they’ve never mentioned me? Why would I be involved?”

Yuta tentatively raises a hand. “I think Kun has a point. This guy clearly knows a ton about Jaehyun’s past, and you were in that house too. It wouldn’t be much of a stretch to say that whomever we’re dealing with knows you, too.”

“I’ll team up with Jaehyun,” Kun decides. “You and Yuta can go in the front.”

The four of them all exchange grim, determined glances.

Sejeong hasn’t said a word the entire time. Jaehyun’s almost forgotten she was even there, what with how she sits at the kitchen counter with Mina in her lap, silently observing the planning session in the living room. At the same time Jaehyun glances her way, she meets his eyes. He doesn’t know her at all, much less enough to read the expression on her face. But if he had to guess, he’d say that she looks defeated. Like she’s accepting an inevitable fate that only she knows to be true.

Doyoung seems to also notice her watching them, so he stands up and strides over to where she’s sitting. He leans down to pick up Mina, holding her close and pressing a kiss to the top of the child’s head. Jaehyun can’t hear the words Doyoung whispers to Sejeong, so he turns his head away and decides not to pry.

Next to him, Taeyong rests his head on Jaehyun’s shoulder. He also hasn’t said anything the entire exchange, but he’s been holding onto Jaehyun’s hand like his life depends on it. Almost as if he doesn’t think he’ll ever see Jaehyun again.

“Come back safely,” Taeyong whispers, just barely audible. “If you don’t, I’ll kill you.”

Jaehyun cracks a small smile. “Like you’re capable of that,” he replies, wrapping an arm around Taeyong’s shoulder to hold him close.

Taeyong sniffs. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, mister.”

They stay like that for as long as they can, not exchanging any words as they simply revel in each other’s warmth. It’s funny, Jaehyun muses. Less than two years ago, he’d met Taeyong at a bar and used his body as a distraction from Doyoung’s supposed death. And now here they are, holding each other for what may be their last moments together. Jaehyun loves him, something he never thought possible. It’s fucked up, but he’s so grateful Taeyong had the courage to approach him that first night. Because if he hadn’t, then who knows if they would be here right now.

So he holds onto Taeyong until Yuta tells him it’s time to go, a sympathetic glint in his eyes. Jaehyun leaves a kiss on Taeyong’s hair, then his temple, then his eyelid, then his cheek, and finally his lips. “I’ll be back,” he promises.

Taeyong grasps at Jaehyun’s shirt, fingers twisting in the fabric for a moment before letting go. “You’d better,” Taeyong murmurs.

(The words Doyoung whispered to Sejeong:

“Call Johnny.”)

It’s a bit alarming how easy it is for Jaehyun to fall back into step with Doyoung.

None of them have a car they can use, so they resign themselves to the fate of walking all the way to the house. Kun leads the pack, back as straight as an arrow as he walks without glancing back once. Yuta trails behind by a few steps, hands shoved into his pocket and humming some tune that Jaehyun roughly remembers—it’s some Chinese folk song Sicheng used to sing to himself.

Somehow, without even meaning for it to happen, Jaehyun gravitated from tailing Yuta to walking side by side with Doyoung, footsteps automatically syncing up as they steadily pace down the sidewalk. It’s familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time, but Jaehyun doesn’t mind it all that much.

“Hey,” Doyoung nudges him in the side, leaning closer until their shoulders and arms brush. Jaehyun’s first instinct is to pull away, but his body craves the warmth so he stays put. “You think Sehun knows?”

“About what?”

“About Kun.”

Ah. “I don’t know, maybe,” Jaehyun shrugs nonchalantly. “He knows that I know who killed Lu Han, and Kun’s the only Chinese one in the group. Hyung could probably figure it out if he really thought about it.”

Doyoung tilts his head to the side. “You don’t seem all that worried about it?” He remarks lightly. “Don’t you think you should, I don’t know, maybe tell Sehun-hyung about it? He deserves to know.”

Jaehyun shakes his head. With his eyes trained on Kun’s back, he mutters, “He deserves to know, but he doesn’t want to. Quite frankly, I don’t blame him. Sometimes it’s better to live without the truth.”

Doyoung flinches. “I suppose it is.”

Call him cruel, but vicious satisfaction courses through Jaehyun’s veins.

“I wrote you a letter, you know.”

Jaehyun stops in his tracks. “Excuse me?” He demands, whirling around to face Doyoung. “You wrote me a letter? When?”

Doyoung smiles sheepishly. “The night before I left,” he answers softly. “When you fell asleep, I stayed up to write you a letter. It feels kind of stupid now, but back then it was something I thought I had to do.”

“What did it say?” Jaehyun inquires, not quite sure if he’s ready to hear the answer.

“Just an apology of sorts. I guess you could call it my explanation for leaving, but not really?” Doyoung picks up the pace, face twisting as he tries to find the right words. “I don’t know if I can really call it an apology, though. Because I didn’t intend for you to find it right away. I slid it underneath my bed because I knew that you wouldn’t move anything until you’d let go of me. By then, I figured, you’d be able to handle the truth.”

Dipping his head down in shame, Doyoung adds, “It was pretty selfish of me, wasn’t it? Writing you a letter I knew you may never find. I shouldn’t have done anything—I should’ve let you believe I was actually dead. Things would have been much simpler that way.”

“I hope you realize,” Jaehyun remarks matter-of-factly. “How much I’d like to punch you across the face right now.”

Doyoung blinks, then a slow smile forms on his lips. Small and wry, but a smile nonetheless. “I’d deserve that,” he agrees.

The house is just as he remembers. Tall, with an exterior so white it’s blinding. The grass on the lawn has grown wildly long and unruly, and the paint has chipped off in some places but it’s still undoubtedly the same place Jaehyun and Doyoung grew up—the place where they were trained and tortured, the place where Jaehyun killed his father.

“Be careful,” Jaehyun warns. “We don’t know how many people are waiting for us.”

Doyoung cranes his neck out and squints at something on the second floor. “Well, at least one,” he comments gravely, pointing up at one of the windows. “The light’s on.”

Jaehyun’s throat runs dry. Just as he’d thought—the office.

Pulling one of his guns out, he calmly unlocks the safe and gestures for Kun to come by his side. “Let’s get this over with, then.”

He swings the door open and immediately braces himself, expecting an ambush right from the start. But he’s greeted by nothing but cold, still air. On edge, he carefully paces forward, counting each step he takes in his head. One. Two. Three. Four. Five…

Behind him, Yuta and Doyoung’s light steps echo on the floor. The interior hasn’t changed at all, either, except the last time he was here the walls were stained with blood as he and Doyoung shot down all the guards. Now they’re pristine and as blindingly white as the exterior, which only raises his guard even more.

“This is creepy as hell,” Kun mutters under his breath, skittishly examining every angle before he sets one foot in front of the other. “I regret this already, and this is just the beginning.”

“You can say that again,” Jaehyun concurs in a hushed voice.

Kun grits his teeth. “I almost feel like—” he begins, only to stiffen and elbow Jaehyun in the side. “Jae, two o’clock.”

Jaehyun shifts his gaze and locks eyes with a man crouched behind the corner. The man’s eyes widen in panic as he realizes he’s been discovered, but before he can raise his gun or shout for help, Jaehyun sends a bullet through his skull.

Just like that, all the lights in the house flicker on to reveal dozens of armed men clad in dark colors, their weapons aimed at the four of them.

Yuta closes his eyes. “Fuck this,” he states flatly.

“That’s an understatement,” Doyoung groans.

“Well boys,” Kun declares grandly, sarcasm dripping from voice. “May as well go out with a bang, huh?”

Jaehyun inhales deeply. “Kun, shut the fuck up.”

Quick as a flash, he aims at the nearest enemy and shoots him in the neck. The rain of bullets that follows doesn’t surprise him whatsoever, but it’s an unpleasant sight all the same.

“Get down!” Yuta roars, shoving Jaehyun to the side to avoid a bullet that just barely whizzes past him. “What the hell are you waiting for; get the fuck out of here and go to the office already!”

Jaehyun hesitates, wasting precious seconds he knows he doesn’t have. “But you—”

Yuta ducks behind the couch in the living room and skillfully shoots down two more men. “Doyoung and I can handle this! Take Kun as backup and finish this already!”

Briefly, Doyoung locks eyes with Jaehyun and jerks his chin in the direction of the stairs. Go.

Unwilling to waste another second, Jaehyun nods quickly and grabs Kun’s arm, dragging him up the stairs and to the second floor. He’s expecting another ambush, but oddly enough, the hallway is completely empty. Too empty.

“I didn’t like this before and I really don’t like this now,” Kun proclaims with a grimace. He shoots Jaehyun a quick look, says, “You didn’t get hit, did you?”

Jaehyun shakes his head in confirmation. “You?”

“Not a fucking scratch.”

They’re standing before the door to the office but neither make a move for the handle. It’s gonna be okay, Jaehyun prays to himself. You’re gonna go through these doors and send a bullet through the psycho’s head. Just like you did eight years ago. Easy.

Kun eyes him warily. “You okay?”

“Of course,” Jaehyun bites down his lip. “Never better.”

He kicks open the door.

A graying, bespectacled man stands perched against the desk, casually sipping at a drink in his hand. A smirk crosses his face when he takes in Jaehyun’s figure, but when he shifts his gaze to Kun, the smirk turns into a dark scowl.

“That,” the man declares in a gruff voice, glowering at Kun with unparalleled anger. “Is not the boy I asked for.”

Holding onto his drink with one hand, the man reaches inside his blazer and withdraws a gun. Before Jaehyun can react, the man points it at Kun and shoots.

“No!” Jaehyun shrieks, dropping to his knees and desperately clawing at Kun’s crumpled body. At first he can’t find any blood so his shoulders begin to sag in relief, but then his hands pass over Kun’s midsection and feel an unmistakable dampness.

Shot in the stomach.

Kun’s gasping for breath, body convulsing as he clutches at his abdomen and his hands are colored red. Furiously, Jaehyun whips around and instinctively raises his gun, ready to take down the bastard who did this to Kun.

At least, that’s what he’s about to do, until the man pulls the trigger for a second time and pain blossoms in Jaehyun’s shoulder.

“Fuck,” he swears, letting out a grunt of agony as he grasps his wounded shoulder. It’s not his dominant side, but the pain is so overwhelming his vision swims and his hands are too weak to lift the gun.

The man at the desk laughs mockingly. “Take him outside,” he orders.

Jaehyun blinks away the tears stinging his eyes and glares. “Fuck you,” he gasps out.

“Oh?” The man remarks breezily. In one smooth motion, he downs the last of his drink and hurls the glass Jaehyun’s way. Jaehyun just barely manages to duck in time, wincing as the glass shatters behind his head.

“Take him outside,” the man repeats commandingly, calmly cocking his gun again. “Unless you’d like your other shoulder to match.”

Left with no other choice, Jaehyun swallows and grabs Kun by the collar with his good arm, dragging him out into the hallway. Kun cries out in anguish, body spasming as he leaves a trail of blood behind.

“I’m sorry,” Jaehyun whispers. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he repeats even after he’s closed the door, abandoning Kun on the other side.

The man at the desk smirks again. “Much better,” he grins demonically. “Now why don’t we start from the top?”

He swiftly removes himself from his perch on the desk and marches over to where Jaehyun has fallen to his knees again. “Where is the boy?”

Jaehyun’s vision goes blurry, but he still has it within himself to lift his chin and defiantly snap, “Somewhere you’ll never find him.”

That smart remark earns him a blow to the head, hard enough to topple him over and land on his bad shoulder.

“You’re just as your father said,” the man curls his lips in disgust. “Arrogant, insolent, and idiotic. Maybe your friends think you’re brave, but you’re nothing but a fool.”

“Don’t I already know it,” Jaehyun coughs out wryly.

The man glowers down at him. “Do you even know who I am, Jung Yoonoh?”

“Enlighten me.”

Smugly, the man laces his fingers behind his back and domineers over Jaehyun’s weak figure. “Lee Sooman,” he states, enunciating each syllable contemptuously. “I believe you’ve received all my prior messages, no?”

Jaehyun gives up struggling to stand and rests his cheek against the cold tiles. “They were wonderful,” he grunts sardonically.

Lee tilts his head. “Don’t you have any questions for me? Or are you that empty-headed?”

“Enlighten me, you fucker,” Jaehyun repeats angrily.

“I suppose,” Lee muses. “I’ve already shot your friend and crippled you, so I may as well let you in on the truth, shouldn’t I?”

Lee bends down and places a large hand on Jaehyun’s jaw, shoving him down even harder against the floor. “I was your father’s business partner, if you’d like to call us that. We met at a young age when, coincidentally, we were assigned by two different people to kill the same person. What a chance meeting, wouldn’t you say? Truly the spark to a wonderful friendship as we went about, taking hits without a care in the world.”

“But as we got older, we soon realized that our bodies couldn’t keep up forever. Neither he nor I had the same speed or reflexes anymore. We couldn’t even move as stealthily with our aging joints. At that point, we were struck with a crisis. We had a team with us already, but they were all around or nearing our age, so what would happen once they too became like us? So your father was the one who came up with the solution of continuously recruiting new workers, but the question was how could we find ones who would last long enough?”

“And then we got it—the best way to ensure we’d always have workers is to train them when they’re young. Children beneath the age of ten are malleable and easily influenced; you raise them well enough, they’ll grow up to become fine workers.”

“You mean fucking murderers,” Jaehyun spits. “You kill our families and take us in, huh? That’s why you spare the children? Because you want to grow your own soldiers?”

Lee watches him in amusement. “I’m impressed, Yoonoh. You catch on very quickly. That’s one thing your father always praised you for.”

“Fuck him.”

Paying no regard to the man clutching his shoulder on the floor, Lee merely steps over him and returns to the desk, where he pours himself another drink. “But only Jung had his own children, and two of them were already too old,” he explains with a disgruntled sigh. “Still though, a start was better than nothing. So there you were, Jung Yoonoh: our patient zero.”

Jaehyun drags himself a couple inches, only for the pain in his shoulder to burn even more intensely. “Wow, I’m fucking honored,” he bares his teeth in a snarl. “I was the first of many lives you ruined. How great.”

“Oh, please,” Lee snorts. “Your father would’ve raised you down that same path, anyway. The way he did it was simply more…convenient, per se.”

“And then it hit us one day: why were we limiting ourselves to our own children? There are millions upon millions of children in this world, so what was the point of having our own when we could easily take others’? Surely it would be much more efficient that way, and that’s exactly what we did.”

Lee takes a sip from his drink, then sneers. “We traveled up and down the country to gather as many children as possible. I even flew over to Canada for some scouting of my own. And we swore to raise all of them into our own personal soldiers.”

“That being said,” he tsks dramatically. “Not everything went quite according to plan. Some were simply too weak, so we got rid of them. Then you wouldn’t believe how many suicides we had once they reached the double digits. Incredible, really. By the time the kids were in their teens, we only had twenty left. That is, until Lee Minhyung and his precious little friends decided to play God and set off a bomb in our hideout.”

Suddenly, Lee sets aside his drink to swoop down and snatches Jaehyun by the collar, dragging him up until Jaehyun can taste the psycho’s breath. “Of course, had those kids been just a little smarter, they would’ve noticed that I had been out that day with fifteen of my men. They destroyed the hideout, yes, but they didn’t even take out half of us. All they succeeded in doing was killing themselves and the other children.”

Jaehyun just barely manages to bark out a strangled laugh. “Can’t say I blame them,” he hisses. “I know from experience that anything is better than being groomed by a bunch of psychotic freaks.”

Without warning, Lee slams Jaehyun back down to the floor so hard his teeth shake. “Insolent brat,” Lee growls. Jaehyun can’t tell if Lee’s actually frothing at the mouth or if the blow to head has really messed him up. Either way, Lee is positively fuming.

“We taught you children everything. You learned to defend yourselves, to perform a well-paying job—to live. We did you a favor, and this is how you repay us? Your life is miserable. You’re a miserable man with an empty heart, and no amount of effort can fix you.”

“Broken, that’s what you are. Goddamn broken. No amount of pretty boys or little friends will ever change that. Your father was broken too, but at least he did something good with his life. You? You’ve spent your childhood and adulthood killing without a purpose just because you’re too afraid that your father was right. You’re just going to be broken and miserable until the day you die. Mark my words, you will never surmount to anything, Jung Yoonoh.”

Maybe it’s because this is the place he shot his father. Maybe it’s because his shoulder and head hurt so much he’s not sure what’s real anymore and what’s not. Maybe it’s because he loves Mark. Maybe it’s because he refuses to let his father win. Maybe it’s because Lee is right; he’s broken to his very core, and nothing that’s happened in the past two years have changed that.

Maybe it’s this, maybe it’s that. But that doesn’t change what happens next.

Jaehyun’s vision is swimming and his limbs feel weak, but he summons the strength to lift himself up on his good arm and laugh. He knows he sounds deranged and shattered and fucked, but at the very least he’s still capable of laughing. If nothing else, at least he’s the only one in control of his own fate.

“You’re right,” Jaehyun croaks out. “But that’s not my name.”

Unsteadily, his fingers find his gun and he lifts it up to what he thinks is Lee’s chest level. Lee just scoffs and responds by pulling out his own gun, pointing it straight at Jaehyun’s head. “I’d think before being so arrogant, Yoonoh,” Lee threatens. In one smooth motion, he kicks Jaehyun’s gun out of his limp hand, leaving the man on the floor defenseless.

Jaehyun squeezes his eyes shut. It’s going to be okay, he tells himself. He’s already made it this far, and that’s enough. He’s found people he loves and a reason to not hate himself—more than he ever thought he would get. No matter what happens, he’ll be okay. Dead or alive. Breathing or not.

There’s a click of a trigger, then the roar of gunfire.

But Jaehyun is still breathing.

A hand grabs his. “Come on,” a familiar voice that sounds like home says. “It’s over, Jae. You’re gonna be okay.”

When he opens his eyes, he’s met with a sight that, he muses, is the second most beautiful in the world behind only Taeyong.

“Doyoung,” he whispers.

“Come on,” Doyoung repeats hurriedly, slipping his gun back into its holster. He eyes Jaehyun’s shoulder in concern, says, “We’ve already cleaned up downstairs. Yuta somehow made it through without a scratch, but Kun…well, we should get get out of here fast. Yuta’s trying his best right now, but I don’t know how much time Kun has left.”

Doyoung’s got blood on his face, but upon closer inspection, Jaehyun realizes with relief that it’s not his own. Finally regaining his senses, Jaehyun nods and heaves himself back up to his feet. “Okay,” he says, stooping down to pick up his gun that had been kicked aside. “We’re okay now.”

He thinks he gets it now, what home means. Not these four walls surrounding him, but the only companion who suffered alongside him. Doyoung, his best friend. Doyoung, his brother. Doyoung, his betrayer.

Doyoung, his home.

The first floor marks the remains of a warzone. Countless bodies lie prostrated on the floor and draped over tables, blood marring the walls. But Jaehyun pays no mind to any of that—his eyes immediately find Yuta, tending to a familiar body in the living room.

There’s too much blood decorating the carpet. Far, far too much blood.

“Shit,” Jaehyun swears, rushing down the last few steps to be by Kun’s side. In an act of desperation, he attempts to lift the injured man’s shirt and stop the bleeding on his abdomen. “Don’t you fucking dare do this to me right now, Qian Kun. I’ll fucking kill you,” he hisses through his teeth, watching as his hands become stained with Kun’s dark blood.

“Keep pressing down,” Doyoung instructs, watching on nervously. “Try and stop the bleeding for now until we can get help.”

“Help from whom?” Yuta demands in annoyance.

Jaehyun scowls and presses down even harder, ignoring the pain in his right shoulder. “Let’s worry about that when it comes,” he mutters darkly.

One of the first things his father taught him was the most and least fatal places in the body to get shot. Next to the head and the heart, a bullet to the stomach is one of the least desirable options. Judging by how much blood Kun is rapidly losing, Jaehyun can see why.

Suddenly, Kun’s eyes flutter open. He gasps sharply, chest convulsing with coughs immediately after. “W-what?” Kun croaks, trying to get up only to wince with pain. “Jaehyun, what?”

“Shut up and stay down,” Jaehyun snaps, too stressed and panicked to elaborate. “Why the hell did I bring you with me? I could’ve handled things by myself, but instead I got you dragged into the situation? Well look where that’s gotten you—shot in the fucking stomach!”

Unexpectedly, Kun laughs. Or, more like he chokes out some strangled, twisted sound that vaguely resembles a laugh. Blood stains his lips and red droplets appear around his mouth, matching the red on Jaehyun’s hands.

“What the fuck is so funny?” Jaehyun shouts angrily, increasing the pressure on the wound out of rage. “You think this is a goddamn joke, Kun?”

Kun weakly lifts his hand and rests it on top of Jaehyun’s. Perhaps it’s just a trick of the light, but it almost looks like Kun’s smiling. Right now, of all goddamn times. If Jaehyun’s hands weren’t occupied trying to prevent Kun from bleeding out, he’d strike him for his insolence.

“Jaehyun,” Kun shudders, breaking out into another coughing fit that turns his lips even redder. “Kill me, Jae.”

The world halts in place.

Yuta is the first to react. “What the actual fuck?” He gasps in horror, covering his mouth with his hands and recoiling back. “Kun, you can’t actually be serious right now.”

“Am,” Kun feebly chokes out.

“Stop this,” Doyoung scolds, his knuckles white with how hard he curls his hands into fists. His face is pale, cold sweat gathering at his forehead and a streak of blood marring his cheek. “You’ll be fine, Kun. Hold on just a bit longer. If we get you back to the café Sehun or Sejeong might be able to help out.”

Kun moves his head in what vaguely resembles a shake. “Not…gonna make it…”

“Kun—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jaehyun orders listlessly, devoid of any emotion or feeling. His hands have stilled on Kun’s midsection, no longer pushing down with the same urgency as before.

Kun’s eyes have lost focus, flitting around blearily without really looking at anything or anyone. He can barely see, but his eyes are begging and desperate. Blood stains his mouth and face, the dark red a stark contrast against his ashy complexion. Jaehyun wants to scream—scream like the banshee that haunts his nightmares, the voice that rattles him to the bone. He wants to grab Kun by the shoulders and shake him back to his senses. Tell him to not give up, to stay with him until the very last second, force his eyes to see again and take back the words he’d whispered in supplication. If Jaehyun could turn back time, he would go back fifteen minutes and shoot Lee before Kun could enter the office—no, he would turn the clocks back even further than that. He’d go to a hotel in Beijing, six years in the past. He’d knock that gun out of Kun’s hands and tell him, If you kill this man, you’ll only become someone you hate. God, if he could turn back time he would’ve saved Kun from years of torment.

Instead, Jaehyun gingerly lifts his hands from the bullet wound. Trembling, he encloses Kun’s hand between one of his and presses them against his cheek, breathing in ragged breath after ragged breath as Kun finally manages to lock eyes with him.

It’s going to be okay, he repeats like a mantra. It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay.

With his free hand, he fumbles around for the gun he’d carelessly dropped on the floor and wraps his fingers around the grip in a familiar, practiced motion. Distantly, he’s aware of Yuta and Doyoung’s protests, but the throbbing in his his head blocks them out. Inhaling one last time, Jaehyun presses the muzzle against Kun’s forehead.

It’s going to be okay.

He pulls the trigger, and Kun’s cold hand slips out of his grip.

(“Say it.”

His father’s eyes flit between the gun and Jaehyun, darkened by fear. No matter how many people he’s killed and lives he’s ruined, the bastard’s afraid. He’s afraid of death, and this is not how he wants to go.

“If I say it,” he questions steadily, only the smallest hint of a tremor in his tone to give away his facade. “Will you let me live?”

Jaehyun’s lips curl into a sneer. “Depends on your sincerity.”

“Yoonoh—” his father begins, only to stop himself. “Jaehyun,” he corrects. “Stop this immediately. You won’t be able to live with yourself knowing you killed your own father.”

“Oh?” Jaehyun tilts his head, a malicious grin taking over his lips. “Funny you say that, actually.”

Serenely, he lifts his gun and levels it with his father’s head, enjoying the fear taking over his lifelong abuser. “Because I think I’ll be just fine, Father.”)

Doyoung lets out a yelp as suddenly, Jaehyun’s knees crumble and he collapses next to Kun’s body. “Hey hey hey, you alright?” Doyoung asks worriedly, hoisting Jaehyun up by the shoulders and supporting him against his own chest. “Are you okay? God, you haven’t been shot again, have you?”

“No,” Jaehyun mumbles weakly, the dull pain in his shoulder barely registering. “Just the one. I’m okay, just…overwhelmed.”

Yuta bends down and loops his arm through Jaehyun’s. “Hey man, you’re all good,” he swallows, adds, “You did the right thing, too. I know I said not to but…Kun wouldn’t have made it anyway.”

The mention of Kun’s name only causes Jaehyun’s chest to cave in again. Averting his gaze from the body on the ground, Jaehyun chokes back his tears and mumbles, “Let’s just get the fuck out of here. Let’s go h…”

Home. Home, huh? Jaehyun doesn’t even know where home is anymore, just that Doyoung is his.

Doyoung nods, keeping his hold on Jaehyun and pulling him up to his feet. “Let’s go back to Sehun’s. Mark and Taeyong will be glad to see you—”

Suddenly, he tenses up. His arms grip Jaehyun’s shoulders uncomfortably tightly, making Jaehyun let out a small groan of protest as his injured shoulder throbs in pain. “Doyoung, you’re hurting me,” Jaehyun cries out, a tear squeezing out as the pain augments.

The next thing he knows, he’s being pushed down to the carpet, falling on his front with a thud. His shot shoulder is awkwardly pinned under his body, causing Jaehyun to grunt from the agony. “What the actual fuck?” He hisses, propping himself up to glance behind him at the offender. “Doyoung, what the hell was that for?”

And then it happens.

A deafening, overfamiliar bang resounds through the room. One moment Doyoung’s on his feet, and the next there’s blood spurting from his head. Like a work of art, he falls gracefully—swaying in the air at first, then all at once—and collapses next to Jaehyun, eyes wide open but seeing nothing.

Yuta screams. Faraway, Jaehyun thinks he hears the sound of another shot being fired and the thump of a body hitting the ground. Perhaps he hears approaching footsteps, too, but he barely notices a thing.

The world ends with Kim Doyoung’s death.

(A thought suddenly strikes Jaehyun. “Doyoung?” He asks warily.

“Hmm?” Doyoung glances up from his book.

“What about you, then? Would you take a bullet for me?”

“Don’t be silly,” Doyoung snorts dismissively. “Of course I would.”

Jaehyun curls his lips in discomfort. “But Father always says that it’s the dumbest thing someone could ever do,” he points out.

Doyoung raises a brow. “You, listening to your father? Since when?”

“Besides,” he adds after a second’s pause. “You’re all I’ve got, Jung Jaehyun. It’s ride or die for us.”)

“Jaehyun,” Yuta hisses, crouching down and shaking him by the arm. “Jaehyun, look up.”

“Why?” Jaehyun replies emptily, unable to break his gaze away from Doyoung’s dimmed eyes.

Yuta inhales sharply. “Because there’s someone I think you should see right now.”

Intrigued, Jaehyun stirs and somehow manages to push himself up. “Who?”

He hadn’t noticed the tall figure standing right behind him until a deep, familiar voice resounds through the air. “I’m sorry,” Johnny says apologetically, tone laced with grief. “I was too late.”

“W-what?” Jaehyun slurs. With Yuta’s help, he turns to stare up at a man he never thought he’d see again.

His eyes catch a silver badge gleaming against Johnny’s chest. But before he can say the words on the tip of his tongue and ask the millions of questions that emerge in his mind, Jaehyun’s vision goes black.

Chapter Text

Day 3

When he opens his eyes, Yuta is staring back at him.

“Jesus!” Jaehyun yelps, mind still cloudy from sleep. “The fuck are you just sitting there for?”

Yuta cracks the smallest of smiles. “I see you’re still you,” he remarks quietly, voice lacking the usual wit.

Jaehyun’s about to make some sarcastic retort, but then the sleepiness clears away from his vision and he registers his surroundings for the first time. Instead of his own room, he’s lying on blue sheets in a small, sparsely decorated bedroom. The window by his head is opened just the slightest to let in a light breeze. There’s an empty glass and a pitcher of water on the nightstand, and Yuta’s sitting on a chair next to him.

“W-what? Where the hell are we?” Jaehyun demands, wincing at how bright the room suddenly seems.

“Jae,” Yuta replies steadily, expression uncharacteristically serious. “How much do you remember?”

At first he doesn’t have a clue what Yuta’s talking about, but when he pushes himself upright and his left arm suddenly convulses with pain, it all comes back to him.

The bullet through his shoulder. Kun’s hand slipping out of his hold. Doyoung’s unseeing eyes. Johnny’s silver badge.

Suddenly, Jaehyun’s lungs collapse inwards and he can’t. Fucking. Breathe.

Yuta reaches out and sympathetically rubs a hand over Jaehyun’s back. “Shhhh, it’s okay. You’re alright now,” he murmurs soothingly. With his free hand, he pours a glass of water and brings it up to Jaehyun’s lips. “Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.”

Too weak to protest, Jaehyun gulps down the water like a lifeline. “My fault,” he whispers apologetically.

“Don’t say that,” Yuta scolds gently. He shifts from his chair to the bed, allowing Jaehyun to crumple against his side. Wrapping an arm around Jaehyun’s shoulders, he adds, “None of us could’ve predicted what would happen. You couldn’t have known that Lee would shoot Kun so quickly, and none of us realized there was still one survivor left who’d try to take a shot at you. Please don’t blame yourself when it was all out of our control.”

Jaehyun shakes his head. “It is,” he mumbles miserably. “It’s all my fault. They’d still be alive if I hadn’t…if I hadn’t…hadn’t…”

If I hadn’t let Kun enter the office. If I hadn’t let Doyoung come with. If I hadn’t killed my father.

If I hadn’t become someone I hate so much.

“They would’ve lived,” he says forlornly. “Even Sicheng.”

Yuta’s grip tightens uncomfortably, causing Jaehyun’s injured shoulder to scream in pain. Wincing, Jaehyun shrinks back and stares down at his hands, unable to look at the man beside him.

“It doesn’t matter if you’re right or wrong,” Yuta says at last, also refusing to glance Jaehyun’s way. “What matters is that we’re alive and we’ve won—Mark is safe and you’re gonna be okay. Kun and Doyoung…well, they didn’t deserve to die, but that is not on you.”

“But—”

“Jaehyun,” Yuta interrupts with a sad shake of his head. “Just stop, okay? Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

Obliging, Jaehyun concentrates on steadying his breaths by counting every one of Yuta’s. “How long have I been out? Where the hell even are we?”

Yuta shrugs. “A couple days, and we’re at Johnny and Ten’s apartment. You’d wake up sometimes and mumble something about Kun or Doyoung, but then you’d pass out again. Probably caught up on all the sleep you’ve been missing these past few years, huh?”

“That’s one way to put it,” Jaehyun tries for a laugh, only for it to get horribly caught in his throat and come out as a croak instead.

A knock on the door breaks through the comfortable silence. Yuta calls out an affirmative, and the door swings open to reveal a tall, nervous-looking man.

Johnny.

Like a child, Jaehyun hides his face in Yuta’s shoulder.

“Thanks for watching over him, Yuta. I can take over from here,” Johnny says.

Jaehyun only clutches harder at Yuta’s arm. “You sure?” The latter speaks skeptically. His voice sounds unusually hostile, yet also wary at the same time. “He literally just got up—give him some time or something before you suddenly bombard him with everything.”

“I think I owe him the truth,” Johnny cuts in. “And it’s better that he knows now rather than later.”

Reflexively, Yuta’s grip around Jaehyun’s shoulders tightens for a second before relaxing. The next thing Jaehyun knows, he’s being eased back against his pillows and Yuta is hoisting himself to his feet. “You’ll be fine,” Yuta smiles encouragingly. “I’ll be right outside, so shout if you need me.”

Jaehyun keeps his eyes trained on Yuta until the other man leaves and the door has shut behind him. Johnny takes the seat next to the bed; he crosses his arms and taps his foot against the floor. “You must be confused right now,” he begins.

“Confused doesn’t even cover half of it,” Jaehyun mutters.

Johnny just nods. “Right. I understand.”

The last time they saw each other, Jaehyun had been consumed by a fit of rage and beat the living daylights out of Johnny. Now, he’s the one bedridden and weak while Johnny has the upper hand. That’s the power he gets with that silver badge, after all.

Speaking of which…

Listlessly, Jaehyun says, “So you’re a cop, huh?”

Johnny simply stares out the window. “I am.”

“Were you after me?”

“No,” Johnny shakes his head. “Not exactly, at least. Things got complicated.”

Jaehyun closes his eyes. “Then enlighten me,” he speaks through gritted teeth.

Johnny shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Did Ten tell you about how and why we got married?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that’s the first part out of the way already, then,” Johnny exhales loudly. He pauses, then slowly says, “We were just kids, really. He was only eighteen, and I was just a year older. But it worked out somehow, for some time. Then, a little after I turned twenty, my family relocated here. I’d been in university at the time, but I decided to drop out and join the police academy instead once we got to Seoul. And, well, not too long later I graduated and became a cop.”

“Ten’s always been good with computers, so I managed to convince the others that he could help as a tech assistant. Any time they needed information, they’d have him hack into whatever systems and extract it for them. We were both good at our respective jobs, and it didn’t take long for us to rise through the ranks.”

“And then one day four years ago, we found out about some secluded building in Anyang getting bombed. The authorities there found bodies of teenagers and young children, and there were enough remains to test DNA. Shockingly, every child we tested was already in the system because they were reported as missing years ago. A few were even traced back to Vancouver of all places, which didn’t make any sense to us at the time.”

“We reached out to some of the families abroad to tell them what had happened. Then, a few weeks later, this woman comes to us and asks if we’d found her nephew. Said his parents had been killed twelve years ago and he’d never been found. She and her husband had been searching for the kid ever since, even when the Canadian police didn’t help them anymore. She’d somehow heard about the other families, which is why she flew all the way over here to talk to us.”

“Mark?” Jaehyun interjects quietly.

Johnny nods grimly. “The one and only. His aunt gave us a picture of him from when he was five, and Ten ran it through an aging software to get an estimate of what he’d look like as a teenager. I was assigned to small team to search for Mark Lee, and for a year it seemed like we were getting nowhere.”

With a droll smile, he says, “And then one day, just as I’d decided to call the case quits, Ten burst into my office all breathless. He said he’d just gone out to get coffee during his break, but you’d never guess who he bumped into at the café.”

“Must have been fate, huh? Just as we were about to give up, the boy we’d been searching for suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Ten had tailed him for a bit and saw him with a few men. So he managed to snap their picture and took note of the general direction they were going in before rushing back to the station to report everything to me.”

“It turns out those two men were also quite interesting. Funnily enough, they were also in the database. Two boys who’d gone missing when they were eighteen, they’d been chased for a bit due to suspicions that they’d murdered their father. Sound familiar?”

Jaehyun curls his hands into fists.

“We had Ten do as much digging as he could. Eventually, he found this locked site designed for organized killings. He tracked down your location and we were all but ready to storm in and get Mark out of there, but then something didn’t feel right. Too many things didn’t make sense—how did Mark get out? How did he find you? What exactly was going on at your safehouse? Then, a man came in one day asking for us to help find his son. It all seemed normal at first, until he gave us a photograph of Mark Lee.”

“At that point, we knew that something definitely wasn’t right. The chief assigned some officers to keep an eye on Lee Sooman, while he specifically asked me to protect Mark. So we agreed that I’d go undercover for however long it took to solve the mysteries. I didn’t want Ten to come, but he insisted that it would be easier for him to track down more information if he were at the house, too.”

Realization dawns on Jaehyun. “So when I asked Ten-hyung to look up cases…he already knew about all of them?” He demands incredulously.

“He’d already known for years,” Johnny confirms.

Jaehyun opens his eyes and locks eyes with Johnny for the first time. “And Doyoung knew about you, right?” He states rather than asks. “Did he tell you where we’d be? Is that why you showed up and shot whoever shot him?”

Johnny bites down on his lip. “Like I said before, Doyoung never liked me. I knew since day one that he didn’t trust my fake story, so it didn’t surprise me when he ended up finding out. I’d been stupid and left my badge out in the open, and when he found it he immediately put all the pieces together. He was about to tell you, too, until he suddenly had a change of heart and asked me for a favor instead. You know how that went.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that earlier?” Jaehyun demands angrily. “Why didn’t you tell me as I was beating the shit out of you? That would’ve been a great time to finally be honest with me, but instead you covered yourself up with another lie?”

Johnny flinches. “I know I should have told you the truth,” he confesses shamefully. “I didn’t because I was under orders to not let my cover slip until we knew for sure what was going on with Mark and his former captors, but that doesn’t excuse what I did.”

Jaehyun’s hands form fists and it takes every ounce of self control for him to not throttle Johnny right there and then. “So what happens now? You’re gonna throw us in jail even though we did all your dirty work?” He spits.

“No,” Johnny shakes his head. “The opposite, in fact.”

“What?”

Johnny clears his throat and rests his elbows on his knees as he leans forward. Staring intently into Jaehyun’s eyes, he says, “I had to help Doyoung with a lot more than just faking his death. After discussing things with my superiors, we worked out a plan for him. We created a brand new life for him that helped him get a job and smoothly transition back into society. Considering your circumstances and how you were the ones to eliminate the threat before we could, the department agrees that the rest of you should be given a bye. Mark’s aunt and uncle are in the city and we’re arranging for him to meet them, whereas you and Yuta have plenty of other options.”

“We can help you, Jae. We’ve got counseling and other helpful resources to support any changes, and—”

“Fuck you.”

Johnny stills, mouth open mid-sentence.

“Fuck you,” Jaehyun repeats icily. “Fuck you and your resources and your bye. You’re a part of the goddamn police and what’d you do? Fuck all, that’s what. I had to solve this shit and keep Mark safe, and you think giving me a new life is going to repay me for everything I’ve gone through? For everything we’ve all gone through? You think that’s gonna bring Kun and Doyoung and Sicheng back? The people you have a duty to save, yet you didn’t? Yeah, fuck you Johnny Seo—you’re nothing but a useless and cowardly piece of shit.”

Blindly, he grabs at the glass on the table and is about to hurl it at Johnny’s head, but the other man is quick to react and grabs Jaehyun’s wrist just in the nick of time. “Jaehyun,” Johnny utters seriously. “I’m not your enemy.”

He’s not wrong, but that doesn’t do anything to quell Jaehyun’s rage. “Get the fuck out,” he hisses, letting the glass slip from his fingers and land safely on his duvet. “You’re just as bad as my father.”

The expression on Johnny’s face indicates that he wants to say more, but he chooses to dip his head respectfully and stand up. “Talk to me when you’re ready, Jae,” he murmurs as he leaves.

Jaehyun doesn’t even have the energy to curse at him anymore, so he closes his eyes and welcomes the blackness.

Day 4

“You look like shit.”

Squeezing his eyes shut as hard as he can and shoving his face into his pillow, Jaehyun mutters, “Shut the fuck up, Yuta.”

A laugh that most certainly does not belong to Yuta rings out. Jaehyun’s blood runs cold when he hears the light, yet sarcastic tone. No, he thinks in horror. What the actual fuck.

Tentatively, he lifts his head and peers at the figure peacefully perched on the chair by his bed. “Well, well, well,” the man smirks lightly as Jaehyun’s eyes widen in disbelief. “Took you long enough.”

Jaehyun recoils back against the wall, unable to tear his gaze away from the apparition in front of him. “You’re not real,” he states desperately. “You’re not here right now, you can’t be. You’re dead.”

“Wow, way to rub it in,” Sicheng responds, unfazed as he examines the nail on his index finger. Calmly, he raises a brow and says, “No shit, Sherlock. Of course I’m not here. You’re just imagining me because you’re wallowing in pain.”

It was a bullet to the chest, if Jaehyun remembers. He didn’t have much medical knowledge, but he knows what it looks like for someone to get shot in the heart. As Yuta had clutched the body of his lover, the blood soaked all the way through his own clothes and stained his skin. Later, Kun would have to sit a listless Yuta down in the bathtub and wash the red off of his chest and arms. Try as they might, they could never wash Yuta’s clothes back to their original hue, so they’d thrown the shirt in the trash and buried the past along with it.

Sicheng looks the same as ever—sideswept hair, a single pointed ear, and dark brows decorating a regal face. The outline of his sinewy muscles are barely visible through his shirt, and his hands are casually clasped together as he leans his elbows on his knees. Nothing’s changed about him—except for the dark red color blooming across his chest, centered around a small black hole directly over his heart.

“My eyes are up here, you know,” he clicks his tongue in disapproval.

Immediately, Jaehyun averts his gaze. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

He hears Sicheng tsk, then let out an irritated sigh. “You know, this really isn’t how I thought our reunion would go. I imagined it to be a little happier than this, but I guess beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Didn’t you say I’m imagining you?” Jaehyun points out wryly. “So realistically, this ‘reunion’ can go whichever way I want it to.”

“Well, sure,” Sicheng shrugs. “But you’ll still look and feel like shit afterwards, so it doesn’t really matter how this conversation goes, does it?”

“Smartass,” Jaehyun mutters.

Sicheng grimaces. “That’s my job, Jae.”

Jaehyun closes his eyes and presses the heels of his hands to his forehead, willing the ghost before him to go away. This is just a dream, or a hallucination or some psychedelic shit. Just stay still and breathe, and when you wake up this will all be over. You can go back to being a miserable fuck without the spirit of your dead friend bothering you.

When he peeks through his hands, Sicheng is still watching him.

“Fuck this,” Jaehyun states, flopping down on his back and immediately hissing at the stinging in his shoulder.

“Language.”

Groaning, Jaehyun whines, “Really, what did I ever do to deserve this? Which higher being did I piss off enough to throw this curveball at me?”

“I thought you were an atheist,” Sicheng muses.

“First you tell me my best friend’s dead, then you kill another one of my friends and it turns out the first one wasn’t even dead in the first place? And then you make me kick out two of my other friends, kill another out of mercy, and you still take away my best friend anyway? You know what, that all sucked as it was, but now you’re throwing fucking ghosts into the mix, too? Literally what the fuck?” Jaehyun screams in frustration, glaring up at the ceiling as if the higher ups can actually hear him and give a shit about what some broken degenerate says.

Sicheng, meanwhile, remains perfectly serene. “First of all, I’m not a ghost, you inconsiderate bitch,” he states with a sassy roll of his eyes. “Ghosts aren’t fucking real, Jaehyun. I thought you’d be old enough to know that by now.”

“Well forgive me for calling you a ghost, then. Does made up apparition of my dead friend suit you better?” Jaehyun snaps.

Sicheng pauses to consider that for a moment. “Eh,” he shrugs. “Could be better, but I’ll give you a pass.”

“Anyway,” he continues breezily. “That was my first point. I have a second: stop accusing fake deities for the way your life turned out. Whether you like it or not, everything that’s happened to you—getting tortured by your father, watching me, Kun, and Doyoung all die, hallucinating about me right now—is because of the choices you’ve made. Yeah, maybe some things have been beyond your control, but you are ultimately the only one in charge of your life.”

“And you know what? I know your life is shit and you couldn’t convince me to trade lives with you for all the money in the world, but count yourself lucky that at least you’re alive. You know what it’s like to be dead? It fucking sucks, that’s how it is. You don’t think I wish I were alive right now? That I’d give up anything to still be in that stupid house and see Yuta? To see his dumb face and watch the way he lights up whenever he sees me? To feel special and safe because even though my life is shit and I kill for a living, at least someone loves me? No, not just one person—to know that the people surrounding me are all as broken as I am, but at least we’re all alive together and getting through each day. You don’t think I miss that? Because when you’re alive you at least have more chances to live and change your ways or whatever; you can still fall in love and have friends and find new things—that’s the privilege of living. Wanna know what you can do once you’re dead? Jack shit!”

“But,” his voice suddenly mellows out again and he’s back to calmly examining a nail. “You already know that, don’t you, Jaehyun? Because otherwise you wouldn’t imagine me saying it?”

Jaehyun rests his arm over his eyes. “I do,” he agrees reluctantly.

“Good,” Sicheng grunts in approval. “Turns out you’re not as hopeless as I remember.”

“And you’re still as blunt as I remember,” Jaehyun can’t help but smile fondly.

Sicheng hums. “Glad to see you still think of me, Jae. Enough to hallucinate about me, too. I thought only Doyoung would get that kind of special treatment.”

An icy hand grips at Jaehyun’s heart, causing the smile to slip off his face. “It still doesn’t feel real,” he admits quietly. “The first time it hurt like hell, but now I just don’t feel anything. I’m not sure if that’s a bad coping mechanism or something, but…somehow I feel relieved that I can’t feel.”

Lowering his arm, he meets Sicheng’s solemn eyes again. “I don’t know if it’s better or worse than the first time,” he confesses.

Sicheng tilts his head just the slightest, a sad smirk painted on his lips. “How am I supposed to know? I’m just an extension of your mind, after all.”

A knock on the door interrupts the tense moment. Sicheng sighs and crosses his arms. “I’ll talk to you later, Jae. Don’t think this is over just yet.”

Jaehyun starts to say something, only for the door to swing open and distract him. Taeyong pokes his head in with a sheepish smile and says, “Mind if I come in?”

When Jaehyun’s gaze flickers to the spot next to his bed, the chair is now empty. “Go ahead,” he says, shifting over a bit to make room on the bed.

Taeyong gently shuts the door and makes his way over, sliding under the covers and wasting no time in looping his arms around Jaehyun’s frame. He rests his chin on Jaehyun’s good shoulder and, voice muffled by fabric, murmurs, “How are you feeling?”

Jaehyun shrugs, or does his best impression of one considering he’s lying on his back. “Could be better.”

“Figures,” Taeyong nods. “You were out for a few days and Johnny wouldn’t let anyone disturb you, so we were all worried. Mark and I camped out at Sehun-hyung’s, but now we’re staying here, too. I must admit, it’s a lot nicer than Sehun’s place.”

“Mmm,” Jaehyun hums in response.

As Taeyong continues to quietly chatter about the smallest things—the weather, Sehun’s mediocre barista skills, whether he should dye his hair or not—Jaehyun only half listens as he runs his fingers up and down his bedmate’s arm. It’s nice, he muses. Taeyong’s acting as if nothing happened, but it doesn’t feel like he’s avoiding the subject. Rather, he’s giving Jaehyun space to breathe until he’s ready to talk about it himself. Which is just one of many things he likes about Taeyong—he makes Jaehyun feel normal, or at least as close to normal as he can get.

Jaehyun pulls Taeyong closer and leaves a quick kiss on the top of his head. Taeyong squeaks at the sudden motion, then settles in comfortably and nestles up against Jaehyun’s chest. “I’m sorry for everything,” he whispers, fingers tightening around the hem of Jaehyun’s shirt. “I wish you didn’t have to go through that.”

Jaehyun responds by tightening his grip. “I’m okay,” he lies through his teeth. “Don’t worry about me, hyung. I’m fine and everything’s going to be okay.”

“It’s not okay,” Taeyong insists urgently. “Jaehyun, it’s normal to feel hurt when something bad happens. You’ve already been through enough in your life, and now…now…”

He swallows and looks up at Jaehyun. “And now you’ve lost Doyoung again and Kun too.”

“Stop,” Jaehyun shakes his head. When he closes his eyes, he sees the blood blemishing Kun’s lips and Doyoung’s cheek. He sees Kun whisper, Kill me, Jae and Doyoung arching through the air like a dancer before collapsing to the ground, never to get up again.

“I-I-I can’t do this right now, hyung,” he shudders. “Please.”

Right now, he doesn’t want to think about the people he’s lost or the countless ways he’s fucked up. He just wants to hold Taeyong in his arms and breathe in the scent of his hair—to forget everything that’s happened or will happen and just bask in the warmth of the man he loves.

So he places a hand on Taeyong’s cheek and brings him in a for a kiss. It’s not rough or angry like when they first met, nor is it overly gentle in an attempt to placate the smaller man. Rather, Jaehyun kisses Taeyong as a promise. Perhaps he won’t talk today, but he will soon. He’ll make sure of it.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

Day 15

Sehun sets down the cup of coffee with more force than necessary. “Drink,” he barks, jutting his chin towards the beverage. “I don’t care if my barista-ing is ass; you’re gonna drink that whole cup and that’s final.”

“Nice to see you, too,” Jaehyun replies dryly. Still, he knows Sehun is more concerned than anything and this is how he shows it, so Jaehyun plucks the cup off of the bedside table and sips at it anyway. As usual, Sehun’s coffee is average at best—really, how did Star Blossom even stay afloat during those months he worked there?—but the bitter taste is a welcome feeling down his throat.

“If you weren’t bedridden and crippled, I’d totally punch you right now,” Sehun deadpans.

“Hey, I’m not actually crippled. A bullet to the shoulder isn’t that bad.”

“Then why haven’t you gotten out of bed for over two weeks?” Sehun retorts.

Now that, Jaehyun has no answer to. Or, he does have an answer, but it’s not one he wants to admit.

As nonchalantly as possible, he lifts and lowers his shoulders and mumbles, “I’m exhausted, okay? Let me live, hyung.”

Sehun is not amused whatsoever. Unlike all the other visitors, he doesn’t bother sitting on the chair and instead chooses to stand at his full height at the foot of the bed. He’s got his arms crossed and keeps tapping his foot impatiently, staring down at Jaehyun with a raised, skeptical brow.

“Look, man,” he sighs heavily. “I know that I’m usually the one to knock some sense into you or whatever, but I’m really at a loss here right now.”

“Huh?” Jaehyun blinks.

Sehun starts tapping his foot even quicker and louder. “Trust me, I’d love to yell at you right now for a bunch of things. First you ran off into a death mission and barely escaped with your life, and then you were knocked out for days and scared the hell out of us. And now you keep insisting that you’re okay when there’s obviously something wrong? Jaehyun, you have to understand why I’m frustrated with you now, right?”

Maybe a year or even a week ago, Jaehyun would’ve raised his hackles and demanded for a change of subject. Now? He doesn’t even have the strength to get out of bed each day, much less to argue when he knows he’s wrong anyway.

“But at the same time,” Sehun finally stops tapping his goddamn foot and gingerly takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “I get what you’re going through. Not exactly, of course, but I know. I couldn’t leave the apartment for months, and it took a year before I could look at Lu Han’s picture again without crying. So while I want to yell at you and shake you back to your senses, you did just lose two of the most important people in your life and you’ve had a lot of new information thrown at you recently. Even though I really want you to be okay, I understand why you’re not.”

“But with all that being said, I do wish you wouldn’t shut yourself in so much. It’s not healthy for you, Jaehyun.”

“Then tell me what I’m supposed to do,” Jaehyun pleads. “Hyung, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I keep telling myself to be better and that things will all be okay, but I can’t even feel anything. I want to talk to you and Taeyong and Yuta but I can’t because I’m just empty.”

Sehun’s gaze softens. “Oh, Jaehyun,” he whispers. Swallowing, he leans forward and says, “Bear with me, because this is gonna sound super cliché: Time heals all wounds, but you need more than just time to recover. The first step is to let others help you.”

Jaehyun goes quiet. Sehun has always seemed both wise and sad—like a combination of melancholic and defeated and everything in between—but he’s still able to smile and sass and help others. Even after the unfair hand life has dealt him, Sehun’s living proof that trying a little more to be better every day is hard, but possible.

“Is that what you told Lu Han, too?” Jaehyun dares to ask.

Sehun doesn’t even tense up at the mention of his fiancé. “It is,” he confirms steadily. “And he was getting better, too. He was making things work and it looked like he’d be okay, and then your friend Kun shot him in the head.”

Jerking upwards in shock, Jaehyun nearly bangs his head against the headboard. “What?”

Inhaling, Sehun shuts his eyes and calmly mumbles, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I let my emotions get the best of me.”

“How did you know?” Jaehyun demands incredulously.

“He told me,” Sehun shrugs casually. “When you all came to my place and were in the middle of getting ready, he pulled me aside and said he had something to say. Told me every last detail, then just stood there breathing heavily and had this deer in headlights look in his eyes. And when I didn’t respond because I was in so much shock, he finally walked back to the living room and got his stuff ready.”

His eyes flash open. “But despite my earlier outburst, I don’t hate him. I’m not even angry, either. I forgive him.”

Jaehyun reels back in confusion. “How can you just forgive him like that? He killed your fiancé, Sehun-hyung. Yes he was under orders to do so, but he had a choice and still did it anyway. Lu Han even knew he was there and spoke to him, yet Kun chose to kill him. How is it possible to forgive someone after they do that to you?”

Pictures of Kun with blood on lips flash through his head, and then he sees Doyoung’s blind gaze staring back at him. How can I forgive myself for taking Kun’s life? For letting Doyoung take a bullet for me?

“Because I can imagine how he felt when he did it,” Sehun snaps. “At first I wanted to punch him or even worse kill him when he told me, but then I thought to myself, what’s the point? Hurting Kun wasn’t going to bring Lu Han back; what’s done is done, and there’s nothing I can do to change that. And you’re right—he had a choice and he chose wrong, but think of how scared and under pressure he was to react the way he did. I wish he hadn’t killed Lu Han, but he acted out of fear and that much I can pity!”

With a long groan, Sehun drags a hand through his hair. Suddenly, he collapses onto his back and, as he stares up at the ceiling, says, “Look, Jaehyun. I know I said that if I’d ever meet who killed Lu Han I’d want them to suffer in return, but once I knew the truth I just couldn’t. Honestly, I felt too tired to care. What’s the point in me obsessing over someone who isn’t coming back?”

“Because you love him?” Jaehyun supplies helpfully.

Sehun shakes his head. “That’s not a good enough reason.”

“Oh,” is all Jaehyun can say is response. “Oh.”

He thinks he gets it now.

Sehun lets out a chuckle. “I think…I think sometimes, the only thing we can do for the people we love is let them go. At the end of the day, I think that’s the best apology we can give them.”

Jaehyun rolls over on his side and studies the pitcher of water that’s been on his table for weeks now. What would happen, he muses absentmindedly, if he were to knock it over? It would shatter into hundreds of little pieces and water would seep through the floorboards, but would he be met with angry or pitiful reactions? Would Johnny and Ten and Taeyong and Yuta give him a pass because they know he’s still not okay?

It’s not like he deserves sympathy, anyway. He can talk all he wants about getting better, but words don’t necessarily translate to action.

“I don’t want to feel empty anymore,” he declares emotionlessly. “I want to feel something again.”

Sehun lifts himself up and pats Jaehyun on the knee. “Then let go, kid. Forgive yourself first.”

“I have to head off to work now,” Sehun continues as he stands up. “I don’t know when I’ll have time to visit again, but you sure as hell better not still be in that bed, Jaehyun. If you’re not actually better, I’ll drop kick you. Okay, maybe that’s harsh but you get what I mean. I just want the best for you, alright?”

Soothingly, he finishes with, “If nothing else, I want you to live again.”

Day 17

Of all people to come visit him, Kim Sejeong was the last Jaehyun would expect. Yet here they find themselves, with Jaehyun leaning against the headboard while Sejeong sits on the bedside chair with her hands neatly folded in her lap.

Jaehyun’s only seen her a handful of times, and never this close up. She’s got a short and slim build and a kind-looking face, but the determined set of her eyes and lips suggests she’s far from fragile. It was her smile that made Doyoung like her, if Jaehyun remembers correctly. That smile that makes her eyes curve into crescents and shows all her teeth. She really does like as if she’s got the sun inside of her.

“The funeral was a few days ago,” Sejeong remarks. Gently, she adds, “I was a bit surprised you weren’t there.”

Uncomfortably, Jaehyun fidgets in his spot on the bed. “I had no right to be there,” he explains quietly.

Sejeong bites down on her lower lip. “You’re his best friend; of course you had a right to be there.”

The already quiet room falls silent.

“I don’t blame you, you know.”

Jaehyun squeezes his eyes shut. “You should,” he argues feebly.

Sejeong passively lifts and lowers a shoulder. “It would be easier if I did,” she confesses guiltlessly. “Sometimes I feel like I should. Like if I can just pin the blame on someone, it’ll make the fact that he’s gone easier to deal with. But I figured that no matter what, mourning isn’t a smooth process, so why bother harboring so much resentment?”

Steadily, she steps forth and places her hand over his. Jaehyun nearly flinches away on instinct, but Sejeong’s small, cool hand coaxes his muscles into relaxing. “He always told me that you were the most important person in his life. Wouldn’t stop going on and on about how you were always there for each other during the difficult times, and how even though you sometimes brought out the worst in each other, he wouldn’t trade you for anything in the world.”

But he did, the most selfish part of Jaehyun’s heart whispers. He traded you for a better life. You were the cost he willingly paid, and it was all for nothing.

As if she could read his mind, Sejeong squeezes his hand and softly murmurs, “He loved you, Jaehyun. Why else would he run after you when he knew what would happen?”

Jaehyun’s eyes flash open. “He knew?”

Sejeong’s sad smile is answer enough.

No pain he’s ever felt before can compare to this moment. His lungs don’t so much collapses as they crumble altogether, causing him to wheeze and gasp and clutch at his throat as he searches for air that won’t flow. Doyoung knew. He knew going with Jaehyun would be death sentence, yet he went with him anyway. He almost made it, but at the last second he pushed Jaehyun out of the way and took a bullet to the head. Doyoung had a whole life with his family ahead of him, yet he chose Jaehyun before himself anyway. He’ll never hold his daughter again or watch her grow up, and for what?

Why?

“You’re born in 1997, right?” Sejeong’s light voice eases some of the pain away. She runs a hand through his hair, smoothing down the ruffled tufts and neatly rearranging his part. “Doyoung always said that even though he’s a year older than you, it felt like you were the older brother. You didn’t even use honorifics with him half the time, hmm?”

She touches his cheek and breathes, “I’m the same age as Doyoung, so think of me as a big sister, okay? Nothing that happened was your fault. Every one of you made decisions that affected the outcome, but no one single person is to blame. I wish things didn’t have to turn out this way, but we can’t change the past.”

“Mina’s still very young now, so I don’t think she’ll remember Doyoung in a few years. One day she’ll ask me why she doesn’t have a father, or maybe she’ll want to know where he is. I’m not looking forward to that day, but you want to know what I’ll tell her when that happens?”

Wordlessly, Jaehyun tilts his head.

Sejeong’s smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, but it’s genuine nonetheless. “When she gets old enough she can know the truth, but first I’ll tell her that he’s busy watching over his best friend. He’s off making sure the one person who’s always been there for him is happy, and she’ll see him one day when he’s finished his mission.”

“Although,” she adds mischievously. “It may take some time, because his best friend? He’s quite something.”

Day 21

Within the span of only a few weeks, Mark Lee has aged about ten years. Any remaining baby fat has disappeared from his cheeks, and gone is the innocence on his face. Whereas he once had a deer in headlights type of look, his eyes are still wide but now droop tiredly.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” are the first words he says as he all but throws himself at Jaehyun, wrapping his arms around the bedridden man’s neck. “We didn’t hear about you for hours, and then Sehun-hyung got a call from Johnny-hyung saying that you’re okay but passed out. And then you wouldn’t wake up for days, but Yuta-hyung said you didn’t want to see anyone.”

Jaehyun silently encases Mark in his arms. “Sorry for making you worry, kid.”

Mark responds by burying his nose against Jaehyun’s collarbone. “As long as you’re okay,” he mumbles.

Guilt stabs Jaehyun in the heart. “But Kun and Doyoung aren’t.”

“Hey,” Mark speaks up insistently. “Don’t do that yourself, hyung. You killed the ones who’ve been torturing kids like me and my friends for years—you’re a hero, Jaehyun-hyung. You and Yuta and Doyoung and Kun all are.”

“Sure as hell don’t feel like a hero,” Jaehyun replies blankly.

Mark pulls back, his mouth thinning into a line. “Hyung…” he begins, only for his voice to trail off. Sighing, he coughs to clear his throat and tries again. “You are, hyung. Believe me.”

“Then why do I feel like this?”

“Feel like what?”

Jaehyun stares up at the ceiling. “Empty.”

Mark tugs at his arm. “You’re probably still in shock, that’s all. You’ll be okay, Jaehyun-hyung. You’ve got Taeyong and Yuta and me—we’re all here for you!” He exclaims with more cheeriness than necessary.

In the back of his mind, a voice tells Jaehyun that Mark is hiding something from him. And he thinks he has an idea of what it may be.

“Did you meet your aunt?”

Mark’s composure breaks as he flinches. “How’d you know?”

Jaehyun raises a brow pointedly.

“Yeah,” Mark mutters noncommittally, wringing his hands nervously. “Yeah, I did.”

“And how was she?”

Mark shrugs as casually as possible. “She’s nice. I kind of recognized her, but it’s been a long time so I don’t remember much. She and my uncle seemed super happy to see me, but I don’t know why they would—it’s not like I’ve done anything to make them proud. I don’t even know how they can look at me without feeling disgusted, knowing I’m a killer and all.”

“Trust me, kid—you’re not half as bad as you think you are,” Jaehyun rolls his eyes fondly. “You turned out a hell of a lot better than I did.”’

“Hey, don’t say that about yourself,” Mark counters. “You’re the best person I know, Jaehyun-hyung.”

The words are meant to be comforting, but all they do is drive the knife of guilt even deeper through Jaehyun’s chest. If he’s the best person Mark knows…well, clearly he doesn’t know enough people. It says a lot that after everything that’s transpired, Mark still looks up to Jaehyun like he’s some admirable figure when he’s anything but. Not necessarily in a good way, either.

“What else did you talk about with your aunt?” Jaehyun inquires.

Mark’s shoulders stiffen. “Just…stuff,” he replies lamely. “She asked if I still remembered Vancouver and things like that. Wanted to know if I recognized the rest of the family well enough to meet them again one day and…and…”

“And if you wanted to live with her?” Jaehyun states calmly.

Mark lowers his head.

“You should go with them.”

“What?” Mark demands, scrabbling at Jaehyun’s arms in shock. “Hyung, you can’t be serious? I don’t even know these people! How can you just expect me to go back to Canada with them when I don’t—”

Jaehyun silences Mark with a single shake of his head. “They’re your family, Mark. You do know them.”

“I don’t,” Mark protests vehemently. “Do you even hear yourself, hyung? Aren’t you the one who once said that blood doesn’t mean family? I literally know nothing about my aunt or any of them, yet I’m supposed to just go with them and pretend nothing ever happened? Pretend my parents weren’t killed and I was dragged here to become an assassin and spent my whole life killing? Pretend I never knew you and Yuta and Taeyong and the others? How am I supposed to do that? How can I just forget my whole life?”

“You don’t have to forget,” Jaehyun points out gently. “Mark, that woman has been looking for you for fifteen years. She didn’t stop even when the police ended their search, and she flew out here once she heard the news about the discovered bodies. Maybe you don’t know her, but she is your family. Going with her doesn’t mean you have to forget this life; it means you get a chance to start over. You get to keep this life you’ve already lived while also trying again for a better one. That’s what she wants to give you.”

Mark’s fingers bunch at the fabric of Jaehyun’s shirt. “But I want to stay here with you,” he begs weakly.

Jaehyun merely shakes his head again. “If you stay with me, you’ll only get worse. I’m poison, Mark—I’m too far gone, but you still have a chance if you get away from me.”

“But—”

“You still have a chance to live,” Jaehyun emphasizes. “I don’t.”

Mark stares back at him with sad, sad eyes. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way,” he sniffles.

“You and me both, kid,” Jaehyun laughs bitterly. “You and me both.”

Purposefully, he ignores the pain in his chest and buries it six feet under until he’s back to feeling nothing at all.

Day 29

There is, however, one mystery that still has yet to be solved.

Taeyong.

“Ten says that Mark will be leaving tomorrow,” Taeyong comments, idly playing with Jaehyun’s fingers as he curls up by his side. “It took them some time to figure out all the paperwork and some other official things, but now they’re ready. I haven’t seen Mark for about a week now, but I doubt I’ll see him before he leaves. Sad, but I get why he wouldn’t want to.”

“Mmm,” Jaehyun nods absently.

The more he thinks about it, the more he curses himself for being so stupid. How gullible had he been to fall for it so easily? What blinded Jaehyun of all people to let down his guard and allow an innocent stranger into the house so easily? All those stories waxing the poetic about fate and random encounters—how the hell did he ever fall for those?

Fact: Taeyong knows something. Jaehyun just doesn’t know how much.

Slowly, Jaehyun reaches out and clasps his fingers over Taeyong’s wrist to effectively shut the latter up. “Did you know?” He asks quietly.

Taeyong stiffens, then immediately loosens up again. “Did I know what?” He asks with a forced smile. “Jaehyunnie, what are you talking about?”

Jaehyun doesn’t say anything.

“I-I-I, well…” Taeyong trails off. His hands automatically come up to his mouth, teeth poised to bite down on nail. “I…I…I…”

Glass shards pierce through Jaehyun’s heart.

Taeyong hangs his head down in shame. He’s chewing on his fingernail with a menace, hands trembling and eyes flickering back and forth uncontrollably. Jaehyun briefly contemplates enclosing Taeyong’s hand in his and pulling it away from his teeth, but the thought is dismissed almost immediately. Instead, he remains rooted in place as he silently observes Taeyong’s quivering frame.

“I didn’t know much,” Taeyong suddenly blurts out. He lifts his head just enough for Jaehyun to see that tears spilling down his cheeks like a waterfall. Still gnawing on his nail, he hastily explains, “I really did stumble upon the house by accident. I had no idea you would be there, but when Mark and Johnny and the others explained what you guys did, I was so scared. I almost left when you wanted to kick me out, but then Johnny pulled me aside and spoke to me. He threatened me at first because he thought I was one of those people after Mark, but I had no idea what he was talking about. After he realized his mistake he told me he was actually an undercover cop stationed at the house to watch over Mark, and that he wasn’t sure if the rest of you were in trouble in not.”

“He told me it would be better for me to leave, but he also understood that I didn’t have anywhere else to go. So he told me that he and Ten could keep me safe, but that I’d have to be careful anyway. I was only supposed to stay for a few months before Johnny could arrange something for me, but he got sidetracked because of all the weird things happening to you so I ended up staying a lot longer than expected.”

The tears are freefalling so fast Jaehyun can only see silvery lines glistening on Taeyong’s cheeks. “Johnny told me the basics, but he didn’t tell me about what he, Ten, and Doyoung did. I only put the pieces together after you found out, too. I had no clue what was going on with Mark, either. That’s…that’s all I knew, Jaehyun.”

Sniffling, he adds, “I didn’t know everything, but I knew more than I should’ve.”

A small part of Jaehyun wants to lean forward and envelop Taeyong in his arms. He wants to hold him close and let him cry on his shoulder—telling him that it’s alright, that he forgives him and still loves him. But the millions of tired, worn-down, and broken parts of him remind him that a half-truth is still a lie. Taeyong didn’t deceive him on the same level as the others, but he wasn’t exactly honest, either. And Jaehyun is so, so tired of lies.

“Jaehyun, please look at me,” Taeyong begs through his tears.

The offer is tempting, but he chooses to close his eyes instead.

“Oh,” Taeyong says. “Oh.”

Suddenly, the space between them feels like a chasm.

Taeyong breathes out shakily. “You want me to go, right?” He states timidly.

Jaehyun doesn’t move.

“Okay,” Taeyong drags a hand through his hair. “I understand.”

Soundlessly, he gets up and pours new water into the empty glass on the nightstand. He busies himself by straightening out the sheets, then smooths down the collar of Jaehyun’s shirt. Taeyong reaches out the fix a wayside strand of hair, but Jaehyun shies away from his touch.

“I’m sorry,” Taeyong ducks his head. He sounds guilty and ashamed and downright small. It would be so easy for Jaehyun to wrap his arms around him and breathe him in, but he does nothing.

Taeyong walks to the door with his back hunched over. Just as his fingers grip the handle, he pauses. “I love you, Jaehyun,” he murmurs almost inaudibly.

Silence.

Awkwardly, Taeyong clears his throat. “T-that wasn’t some half-assed attempt to get you to forgive me,” he clarifies gently. “I just wanted you to know that that part was true, and it still is.”

Jaehyun turns his cheek the other way. “Okay,” he acknowledges emotionlessly.

Strangely, the warmth that always comes with Taeyong’s words is replaced by a bitter cold.

Day 30

Sicheng is there again. He’s pacing back and forth across the room, muttering every now and then under his breath in Mandarin. Jaehyun woke up from the sound of his feet shuffling against the carpet, and for the past fifteen or so minutes he’s been watching Sicheng march around.

“Don’t you think,” Sicheng suddenly declares, stopping in his tracks and pivoting on his heel to face Jaehyun. “Don’t you think you were being a bit unfair there?”

Defensively, Jaehyun raises his arms up by his head. “A little?” He acknowledges reluctantly. “But I can’t do this anymore, Sicheng. Just because he didn’t lie to me as much as the others did doesn’t mean he told me the truth, either.”

“So what?” Sicheng snorts dismissively. “Yeah, it would be nice and all if we could live in a world where no one lies and everyone tells the truth, but that’s not real, Jaehyun. It never has been and it never will be. People are shitty and they lie all the time—it sucks, but that’s the truth. And yeah, sometimes lie only hurt, but sometimes they’re done to protect people, too.”

“Protect people?” Jaehyun scoffs. “If you want to protect someone, you’d tell them the truth. Lying doesn’t solve anything.”

Sicheng raises a brow. “Oh really, huh? So is that why you bottled everything in until you broke? Because you thought not saying anything would be better than telling the truth? Sounds to me like you were lying.”

Jaehyun opens his mouth but he, quite frankly, doesn’t have anything to say in response to that cold, hard truth.

“Listen, Jae,” Sicheng sighs wearily. He’s wearing a red shirt today, which makes the stain across his chest less noticeable. “Don’t think for a second that I’m okay with the consequences of not telling the truth. ‘Cause trust me—I’d still be alive right now if that jackass Johnny Seo had told us everything instead of being undercover for almost three years. Or maybe I’d still be dead anyway, but who the fuck knows? My point is, it’s easy to blame things on other people, especially when they tell us lie after lie. I agree that good intentions don’t always justify actions, but sometimes you need to ask yourself why people would lie to you in the first place.”

In a softer voice, he adds, “Johnny had a job to do, and you know that. He was assigned to keep Mark safe, which is exactly what he did. You already know why Doyoung left, so I won’t go into that. And did you ever consider that maybe Taeyong was scared and unsure of this new life he was suddenly thrown into, so he chose to follow Johnny’s orders and do everything to stay safe? Did you ever think that maybe, just maybe, people lie not because they want to hurt you, but because they don’t know what else they can do? Because we’re all just trying to survive in this stupid world and sometimes we do things we regret?”

“But there’s no point in me lecturing you,” he relaxes his shoulders and lifts his chin up. “You already know that.”

Jaehyun keeps his mouth sewn shut.

Sicheng looks down at the dark stain on his red shirt. “I know it may be hard to believe, Jae, but your father didn’t win. Not him or Lee Sooman or anyone who’s ever hurt you. Because right now, you’re still alive and breathing while they’re all six feet under. They can’t win from the grave unless you let them.”

“Living just so dead people can’t win isn’t any way to live,” Jaehyun retorts.

“Then don’t,” Sicheng snaps. “Live for yourself, Jaehyun. Get up from that damn bed and stop pitying yourself. Go out into the real world again and start over, because it’s never too late. Forget about your father and the rest of us—live only for yourself, because once you’re dead it’s too late.”

A wry smile on his face, he darkly says, “And like I said before, being dead sucks. Really fucking sucks.”

Jaehyun lets out a short laugh. “I can imagine.”

Sicheng rolls his eyes in amusement. “Do me a favor, would you?” He suddenly says.

“Aren’t you in my head? Wouldn’t that just be me doing myself a favor?” Jaehyun points out with the smallest hint of a smile.

“Okay, smartass,” Sicheng wrinkles his nose. “So pretend I really am a ghost, then. Now would you mind doing me a favor?”

“Sure?” Jaehyun tilts his head in confusion.

Sicheng rests his hand over his chest, obscuring the dark stain from view. “Don’t shove Yuta away,” he articulates delicately. “Don’t shove anyone away in general, but especially not him. He may not admit it, but he’s gone through a lot in his life and things aren’t easy for him right now. You’re inevitably gonna end up going separate ways, but when you do I want you to stay in contact with him for bit. Just until he’s okay again.”

“And,” he hesitates for a second. Sicheng swallows and fists the fabric of his shirt as he says, “Don’t tell him I love him, because he already knows that. Tell him to find someone else, but only when he’s ready. Maybe he thinks I was the love of his life, and maybe I was. But twenty-eight is too young to know for sure, so maybe I wasn’t. Tell him that it’s never too late to fall in love again.”

Jaehyun laughs softly. “You sure you’re all in my head? Because I don’t think I’m mature enough to say anything like that.”

Sicheng grins in return. “Believe what you want,” he winks. “Just know that I’m always right.”

Day 31

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Yuta remarks, bustling around to clear away Jaehyun’s dinner plates. “Haven’t seen you this happy in, well, a hell of a long time.”

“I’m not happy,” Jaehyun muses. “Happy seems a little too strong for right now.”

Yuta ushers him to lean forward as he fluffs up the pillow. “Yeah? Well what are you feeling, then? I was preparing myself for dealing with Emo Jaehyun today, considering Mark just left and everything.”

Jaehyun ponders over that for a minute. Yuta finally settles back down onto the chair after ensuring Jaehyun’s comfortable, observing him with an intrigued gaze.

“At peace, I guess?” Jaehyun comes up with at last.

“At peace with what? With Mark?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, but that’s not all. Myself, I guess. My whole life, too.”

“Oh?” Yuta tilts his head.

Funny how just a year ago, Jaehyun and Yuta weren’t all that close. And now here they are, the only survivors of a death mission. When Sicheng died, Yuta mentioned how sad it was that it took death for him to understand Jaehyun. However, Jaehyun thinks it took a lot more than just that.

“I saw Sicheng last night,” he declares out of the blue.

Yuta merely quirks his brows together. “You mean his ghost?” He asks slowly, disbelievingly.

Jaehyun snorts. “Ghosts aren’t real.”

“Right, right,” Yuta nods, still staring at Jaehyun as if he were crazy. Which, fair enough, really. “So what’d he say?”

“Oh, he yelled at me first,” Jaehyun laughs. “Told me to get my shit together and the usual. Nothing I haven’t heard before, but still a good reminder nonetheless.”

A hint of a smile appears on Yuta’s face. “Sounds like something he’d do,” he replies fondly.

“He talked about you, too.”

“Huh?” Yuta snaps back to attention, eyes wide and anxious. He clutches Jaehyun by the shoulders—probably a little too roughly because Jaehyun winces—and demands, “What did he say about me?”

Jaehyun chooses not to mention how he’s not quite sure whether the message really came from Sicheng or not, considering how it was all a hallucination. But it’s not like that matters, anyway. No matter whom it comes from, the point is still valid.

“That he loves you,” Jaehyun says, breaking the rules just a little bit. “But it’s because he does that he needs you to leave him in the past.”

Yuta just stares at him for the longest time, expression unreadable. It’s not until his grip tightens and Jaehyun hisses again that Yuta finally exhales and lets go, sinking back into his seat. “That also sounds like something he’d do,” he murmurs, a lone tear falling down his cheek.

Trembling, he takes one of Jaehyun’s hands in his and squeezes them as he whispers, “I’m glad we survived, Jae. That you of all people made it out alive.”

“I get what you mean,” Jaehyun says, placing his other hand on top and pressing down firmly. “I’m glad it was you, too.”

Death is one thing. Surviving, though? That’s what really brought them together.

Day 33

Yuta leaves in the early hours of the morning.

Ten shakes Jaehyun awake and, with regret in his voice, hands over a piece of paper. “From him,” is all Ten says as he sympathetically pats Jaehyun on the back.

Jae,