Kim Jongin lies broken and bleeding on the black pavement, limbs twisted in an unnatural way. Blood is smeared over the front of the car. Under Jongin’s body the blood is pooling underneath him and is beginning to snake its way across the dark asphalt.

Kyungsoo pulls himself off the grass and screams.

“JONGIN!”

His knees buckle when he attempts to stand so he crawls to Jongin’s side. His heart is racing and his throat is dry and closed it hurts to breathe. Hurts to speak.

“SOMEBODY HELP!” he screams but it seems like he doesn’t need to. People have began to run towards them and crowd around. He faintly hears someone say that an a,balance was on the way as security begins to hold people back.

 Hot tears began falling down the side of his face as he watches Jongin twitch a bloody finger. He immediately grabs Jongin’s hand and holds it, never, ever wanting to let go.

“Hyung….?” Jongin’s voice is feeble and barely heard, but Kyungsoo’s heart leaps at the tiniest bit of  hope and he leans closer to hear.

“I’m here.” Is all Kyungsoo manages to choke out because he feels like he’s about to vomit.

“I’m-sorry,” Jongin whispers, are Kyungsoo can barely hear over the murmurs of the bystanders. He wants to scream at everything and everyone to shut up, he can’t hear!

“For…everything.”

Jongin’s eyes close, and his breathing slows.

“Jongin?! Don’t give up! Jongin, Jongin look at me!” Kyungsoo knows the time is coming, but he doesn’t want to let go. Maybe Jongin will live. Maybe, just maybe…..

“I love you, hyung.” Jongin says.

Kyungsoo is a blubbering mess right now, but he doesn’t care.

“Kim Jongin, I love you. I love you—more than anything in this universe. Please! Please don’t leave me! You promised! You promised me, remember? Don`t leave me, Jongin! Not again!”

He can hear the distant wail of sirens but somewhere deep down he knows the time is coming.

He has a million things he wants to say, but looking down at the broken hand in his, he realizes it’s over.

It’s midnight exactly. And somewhere in a parallel universe, a hydrangea sheds its last petal.

-----

Just past 2am.

The bar was filled with soft talking. Murmurs among strangers, a whisper among lovers, maybe even the sound of among friends. There were the soft clinks of ice cubes against crystal glasses. The scrape of chairs against polished wood floors. Soft music playing from the speakers that hung around the corners of the darkness.

Do Kyungsoo was sitting at the end of the bar. The second to the last seat, if it really must matter. But of course, it doesn't. Not to him anyway. His head buried in his arms. His hair was messy, soft brown curls spiraling in every which way. Dressed in a crisp black suit and expensive leather shoes, he could have been mistaken as a rich kid that had too much to drink on a night out in the wilder side of town. Again, not that it mattered to him anyway.

No one that had called him in the past hour. No one that had messaged him. Perhaps they were too afraid. Too afraid that he would snap at them, push them away, scream that he didn't want their worthless condolences and useless pity.

“Tell me the story.”

A voice beside Kyungsoo jolted him out of the silence, making his senses scramble awake. The end seat of the bar was filled. A stranger sat there, dressed in elegant, obviously expensive clothing. Cashmere suit. Gold watch. Designer ring. Customized shoes. A long, lit cigarette held carefully between his fingers. A bit of ash fell onto the table's surface.

“What?”
“Tell me the story,” repeats the stranger. He turns out of the darkness and faces Kyungsoo.
With light now on the stranger's face, Kyungsoo could see his features quite clearly. Clear, bright, yet mischievous eyes of warm, dark brown. Innocent ones. Yet, maybe not so innocent at the same time.

Hair professionally styled upwards. An unusual color, Kyungsoo notes. Burgundy. Strange. Smooth, flawless skin. Not a single blemish anywhere.

He seems to be quite familiar, but Kyungsoo can’t quite place him anywhere.
The stranger lets out a long, slow exhale, and Kyungsoo thinks the stranger is a bit sad, like he was tired from repeating the same things over and over.

“Tell me the story about the sun who loved the moon so much, he died every night to let her breathe.”