When Kris found little birds flitting around as mindlessly as she was, he usually snapped their necks and killed them. They were annoyances, and Chanyeol’s playthings. Of course, playing with them wasn’t nearly as fun as toying with the girl; birds broke too easily.

“Why are you here?” The girl wasn’t crying for once, but her anger was just as pathetic. She tried to push him away, but he backed her into a corner. “This hallway is off limits.”

“Stay away from me,” she said, meeting his eyes. That surprised him. Even Chanyeol, who had been with him the longest, had never met his gaze. Rumors had spread across the organization about how his eyes were the gateway to the real hell. The girl's eyes were almost as dark as his, but they were brown under the faint hall lights.

“Did something happen?” The question was deliberate, and the girl knew it. She flattened herself against the wall, but pursed her lips together. Without breaking eye contact, Kris moved his fingers against the burn on . Although he was applying enough pressure to make it hurt, the girl was not the whimpering mess she had been a few hours previously.

“You’ve become stronger,” he said in approval, releasing . For a moment, it seemed like she was about to collapse; she sagged like paper in water. Instinctively, Kris brought her into his arms, her face pressed against his chest.

“I hate you,” she cried, pushing away from him with a force he hadn’t expected. She kicked him, tore at his shirt with her nails, and suddenly, with his arms still around her, they fell to the ground. A scent of smoke drifted from her hair, and somehow, it made him intoxicated. With her face inches from his, Kris briefly wondered how many tears her eyes had shed since she had died.

“Stupid idiot,” he said, forcing her to look at him. “Oh Sehun is the one you should hate.”

And then he kissed her, because she started to cry over the boy who had killed her.

And Oh Sehun was not worth her tears.