Kibum swapped his fears for alcohol as he drank impressively from the bottle of vodka held in his gloved hands, fingers stiff from the cold. His head was submerged in a velvety haze, eyes heavy and smudged with tears.

The road was near empty, the view across the bridge a glistening stretch of reflections on water, yellows and oranges and purples that twinkled serendipitously. It was a beautiful spectacle that, in his drunken state, he wanted to be a part of. The bottle emptied quicker than his mind, and so he chucked it into the rippling depths below, the splash too distant to be heard in the dark sky.

"Neomu-areum daun daun daun daun...” Kibum sang, voice lilting and slurred.

His memory worked in flashes. A white sear where his mind found Jonghyun’s tired face, late home because again, a​gain, he'd spent all night trying to find Lee Taemin. A stabbing brightness where the thought of him finally losing it at his partner, screaming at him, thrashing out, but... ...but he hadn’t hit Jonghyun, he couldn’t have. He loved him too much. Of course he did. He wouldn't hit the man he loved. That was... Well, it was practically unthinkable.

Realising, Kibum locked his eyes to the murky depths, considering which fate would bestow a better life to him – to stay grounded, or to jump?