Everything had started with that single person dying.

If that accident hadn’t occurred, if that person hadn’t been in that exact moment, none of this would’ve happened.

But that accident had occurred, and that person had been there in that exact moment.

He didn’t remember the precise scene that had unfolded in front of his eyes. His memory had pushed it back to the furthest corners of his mind, tried to erase it with all its might as it continued to plague his dreams.

Hakyeon had been far from irritated, he’d been fuming. Hongbin could picture his expression. A face coated with a frown, narrowed eyes and lips pressed tightly together. For once, his mood matched his fiery red hair. The person who’d sat opposite of him remained calm, despite the hostile aura radiating off of Hakyeon.

“I don’t want to start a fight,” the man had said, voice calm. “All I want is that you leave us alone.”

“Leave you alone?” Hakyeon responded through gritted teeth. “Who was it that started this entire ordeal?”

That stirred a reaction out of the man. He gripped the edge of his seat, averting his eyes as something akin to shame flashed across his face. The atmosphere seemed to turn with that action, suffocating the people surrounding it.

Hongbin remembered having been unable to breathe properly, wanting nothing more than to leave.

“As you can see,” the leader had continued, “we’re not the ones who initiated this.”

His eyes had flickered to the side, a grim expression overtaking his features. The absence of Jaehwan was beginning to take its toll on both Hakyeon’s mental state as well as physical one. He resembled a poor doppelganger of their once vibrant, strong-minded leader. Their leader, whose skin wasn't ashen from too many skipped meals, from hiding behind closed doors and whose eyes didn’t own circles darker than his wings.

Wings that were about to sprout in any minute.

“If anyone should have their privacy, it should be us.” Hakyeon spat out, baring his teeth.

The man didn’t respond. His gaze remained rooted to the wooden floor. The shame replaced with guilt, guilt that he seemed to quench.

“If he hadn’t been there, we wouldn’t have done what we did.” He choked out, fingers digging into the leather cushion.

They’d all been waiting for answer, but not this kind of an answer.

“Excuse me?” Hakyeon whispered.

“It wasn’t as if we had expected him on our territory,” The man countered, standing up from his seat. “It wasn’t as if we spontaneously decided to kill him!”

He jabbed his finger at Hakyeon, ignoring the fact that he was in their home and not his own. The calm that had surrounded him dissipated, turning into something more dark, anger.

In his memory, the man must’ve predicted the outcome.

Why he hadn’t left before it was too late, he would never know.

“An eye for an eye, am I right?”

Hakyeon stared at him with an unreadable look. He slowly rose from his seat, crossing his arms as he tilted his head to the side.

“Jaehwan did nothing wrong.” He stated simply.

“If killing someone is nothing wrong, then we did nothing wrong.” The man retorted, frowning at him.

“It was an accident.”

“On our side, not yours.”

“He provoked him,” Hakyeon snapped, stepping forwards. “He provoked him, that pathetic person. What happened afterwards, is nothing but inevitable.”

The man let out a low growl. “Do not call him pathetic. Byun Baekhyun did not deserve to die that night.”

“Lee Jaehwan did not deserve to die that night. Yet here we are.”

The scene that had played out in front of his mind still haunted him. Till this day, not a shred of it had disappeared despite the countless times he’d tried to erase it.

Hakyeon had closed their distance, causing tension to course throughout the rest of them. He had come face to face with the other man, staring him down before uncrossing his arms.

The man hadn’t reacted. He knew what was coming.

“If that hadn’t occurred, we wouldn’t be standing here.” The man spoke up, exhaling slowly. “Who is the one to blame? Is it Byun Baekhyun, for being in the wrong mood, or Lee Jaehwan, for being in the wrong place?”

That was the final straw.

Hongbin tried every day to suppress that memory, to destroy its existence. If he had been faster, if he had stopped his leader’s temper from erupting, then none of this would’ve happened.

No one would’ve had to die.

The black wings that had sprouted from Hakyeon’s back had no luster. The man had conjured a wall of water but it was too late. Hongbin had never seen his leader move with such swiftness.

Before he could react, blood had spilled.

Blood, too much blood, mixed with water, had stained the floor as Hakyeon stood in the middle of it all. He'd looked demonic, face drenched with the red liquid.

Wonsik hadn’t left Taekwoon alone that night when he stayed by Hakyeon’s side. No one blamed him, no one told him to remove the body.

Hongbin took that as his own duty to fulfill, telling Sanghyuk to remain in his room.

He remembered rain. It had been raining too much for it to be considered normal after that occurrence.

If the man had underestimated Hakyeon or came with a death wish, Hongbin would never know. All he did know was that that had caused the floodgates to open.

A month passed until they found a young man standing over the unmoving body of Hakyeon.

He'd been glaring at him, tears running down his cheeks as he pulled back his hand. The limb had been soaked with red, the tan skin covered in it.

Red, Hongbin had seen too much of it in too few days.

“This is for Joonmyun.” He’d announced before disappearing in a cloud of smoke.

Thus the hunt had begun.

Hongbin could barely remember the days that had passed, days that were too vivid, too faint, for him to grasp onto.

A flash of lightning brought him back to reality, snapping him out of his mind’s archive.

The nightmare in the past and the nightmare in the present, he didn’t know which one was worse.

Hongbin stared at the scene in front of him, eyes wide. His breathing was rapid, heart pounding against his chest as he tried to summon the slightest bit of power within him. He found nothing.

Found nothing but pain, too much pain.

Sanghyuk lay before his feet, eyes staring up at the sky. Yet the same eyes that used to have that glint of curiosity, of mischief, of life, were gone. Hongbin felt tears slide down his cheeks as he looked at him, saw the streaks of dried tears on the younger's face.

They’d lost.

A crackle reverberated throughout the night, thunder looming above him as the sky clouded. Once again, lightning was going to strike. Hongbin covered his mouth, swallowing bile as the noise reminded him of the events that had unfolded mere minutes ago.

Light had covered his sight, white scalding hot against his vision. He’d heard someone scream, someone sounding too similar to Sanghyuk. He’d feel the faint smell of something burnt, growing stronger as the light cleared up.

Sanghyuk was laying there, skin completely scorched.

His wings were no longer there. The feathers singed into nothing, scattered beneath him.

It resembled a coffin.

The tears smeared against his cheeks revealed redness beneath the darkness.

The blood belonging to charred flesh.

“Get away.”

The memory disappeared along with the appearance of that voice. Hongbin averted his stare from Sanghyuk’s corpse, staring up at the man. He was the root of this disaster, the reason for Sanghyuk’s death.

Jongdae glared at him, hands crackling with electricity.

It was as if Hongbin had a mirror in front of him. Jongdae's eyes were devoid of any emotions, tears having shed too many times. His skin had charred pieces decorating the once stark white surface; flecks of ash falling off of his hands, his face.

Behind him, Yixing was frantically calling out to someone. Hongbin barely deciphered it to be “Zitao”. The name repeated over and over, as if it was a broken record.

The sound died down, replaced by a muffled wail. 

“I'm telling you,” Jongdae said through gritted teeth. “Get away, now.”

Hongbin sensed the underlining message. Yet his brain wasn’t functioning properly.

Sanghyuk still laid there on the ground.

Sanghyuk still remained dead.

Everyone still remained dead.

Hongbin tried to take a step forwards, tried to let the anger that had possessed him before come back. Yet somehow, survival instincts prevailed over emotions. His muscles were screaming in protest after all those hours of fighting, of trying to survive, beginning to set in. His brain had stopped working, the emotional stress coursing through his veins.

The reality in front of him hadn’t sunken in.

Before he knew it, he was leaving the scene. He was running, limping, stumbling. He was breaking. He managed to come out alive.

Hongbin didn’t feel alive; he might as well have been dead.

His breathing accelerated, uneven intakes from the ache in his heart, brought forth by a different kind of pain.

He had to get out, get away from the scene. He owed Sanghyuk and the rest of them that much.

Behind him, on the barren wasteland, he heard Yixing weep again.

This time with the name “Sehun” on his lips.