“Tell me your answer.” Jungsoo’s voice quivers noticeably, and the strings of his heart tremble too. He hates every moment of his emotions rising, hates the way that words get all choked up in his throat.

The moonlight is just barely there, but enough so that they are not swathed in complete darkness; enough light to glimpse the faint shimmer of desperate tears in Jungsoo’s eyes.

And he knows that Jungsoo is afraid. That his heart must be pounding so harshly against his ribs that it must physically hurt.

He’s been there before. Breathlessly awaiting, jaw clenched tight, praying for a reply that wouldn’t be a clear euphemism for “I’m sorry, let’s not do this.”

He’s been there before. He’s known of the thoughts that plague Jungsoo’s mind, the pure desperation and helplessness and fear. The thoughts of rejection, the wonderments of what if I can’t move on?

He’s seen people like that before - crumpled, soulless, crying all alone; people who loved too hard for all the wrong reasons, and when the time for goodbye came they still found their ghosts of their past love buried deep into their hearts.

Jungsoo visibly stiffens as he moves forward - one step first, then two.

When he curls his fingers around Jungsoo’s cheek, the man softens to his touch, succumbs, lets the tiny little crystal tears slip down, closes his eyes tight and lets his heart beat into the silence of the night and the pitter-patter of the rain.

You can stop hurting now.

Sometimes, he wishes that he could tear himself open inside out, bare his heart to Jungsoo, so the man could see crystal clear the way it beats for him, so he doesn’t have to hurt anymore, so he doesn’t have to live not knowing whether the one he loves loves him back or not.

In this downpour, the world stills around them.

And he leans forward, just the slightest, and he feels his lips connect with Jungsoo’s.

It’s electrifying, quiet, and it’s a sweet, sweet, pain.

He doesn’t know if it’s the rain splashing onto his skin, or tears that wet his cheeks. But all he knows now is the taste of Heechul’s lips upon his and the faint taste of cereal in his mouth. The lights have blurred off into the distance, the murmurings of the night faded, and all he knows now is how his heart thuds for Heechul.

He sinks deeper into this insanity, reaching forward to hold Heechul in his trembling grip; they’re a tangled mess of limbs and tongue and bodies wet and clothes sodden from rain - but Heechul always has this effect on him that makes him want to do all the stupid things.

It’s always raining when it’s with him. Coloured red, grey, black, all the tragically woeful hues. And yet, Heechul makes him want to dance in the middle of a thunderstorm or dive off a cliff or run and spin around in the middle of nowhere if it’s with him. Heechul has become his reason to hold on, his insanity, his sanity.

“Please don’t leave me alone,” he cries in a half-whisper against Heechul’s skin, and he feels the man hold him close. “Please don’t tell me goodbye.”

He’s scared. He doesn’t want the day to come - the day that he’ll wake up and realise everything he’s ever had is gone, that he’ll be crying in the rain alone, that Heechul will just be a faraway galaxy that he’ll never reach.

Because now, he doesn’t ever want to let go.

At last, he has taken his foolish leap, and at last, the one he threw his heart to has caught him.

“How did you get here?”

“I was here before.” The man stares at him challengingly, but there’s no hiding the way his throat constricts in nervousness. “Let me speak to my friend.”

Heechul dips his head, calling for the requested friend. Jungsoo emerges with hair still a mess, loosely gripping a cup of coffee in his hands. His eyes widen in surprise as he catches a glimpse of the unexpected visitor.

“Donghae? Why are you here?”

“I need to speak to you.” Donghae’s icy tone proves a stark contrast to the warm joy bubbling in Jungsoo’s; he reaches out, yanking Jungsoo away from Heechul.

“What is it?” The question leaves his lips, and yet he already understands what his friend has come here for.

Apparently, Donghae is aware that he knows, too; the man shoots him a are-you-ing-kidding-me glance, and his tone is scorching when he speaks. “You know all too well why I’m here. Why are you still living with Heechul?”

“Is there a problem?”

“Yes,” he snaps, “There is a ing problem. You’re living with an assassin who might kill you without warning. I told you about Hyukjae, right?”

His voice is faltering at the mention of the name, and he inhales sharply before continuing. “He wasn’t even involved, and yet he’s gone now. Assassins are disgusting demonic creatures who won’t stop at anything to get their job done. Please, just run away while you can and get yourself out of all of this.”

“I -”

Jungsoo stops.

He doesn’t know how to respond.

But, he killed his own boss.

What if they come after him too?

He can’t take all of them down.

If he dies, won’t they just come after me even if I run?

“I’m not going to go.” He meets Donghae’s gaze, sees the man’s eyes narrow at him. “I trust Heechul.”

He sees the disbelief that haunts his best friend, dripping off his every syllable. “You’re making a mistake.”

“No, I’m not.” He swallows, hard, and it feels as if an invisible border has just crashed down upon them. “I’m sorry, Donghae.”

“Then if he lets you go, will you come back?” Donghae’s voice is small. Defeated. Torn.

He