He reopened his eyes.

Staring aimlessly outside: anywhere but never towards the man seating across the table. The sun blazed furiously above all. He decided it was too strong but nonetheless not so often he blinked or squinted when he stared too long. He was tired; too tired to fight back its ferociousness. Surprisingly, peopled flocked and crowded the streets, running to and fro. Some are running late for a scheduled engagement. Some are enjoying an afternoon stroll, basking in its shines. Enjoying? He scoffed. He continued to cross his arms against his chest and dared not to look frontward. He refused to.

He regretted in agreeing in a café, in a public place. It wasn’t teeming and was cozy but it doesn’t matter. The now half-empty tall cup of Americano standing on the table had an impeccable taste he wouldn’t forget but it doesn’t matter. None of it does. And he was a fool. A fool for believing he would be safer would feel safer, from the overbearing weight on his shoulders. He was tired. A tight-lipped smile flickered on his face. The stale air was getting on him and he wouldn’t want a death by asphyxiation. No, he wouldn’t want something vile like that. No one would.

Standing up abruptly, it had brought attention to the man he was with who had to end the call he made. Or end the call he received. Whichever that is, it doesn’t matter. He believed it doesn’t.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

Out of habit, he reached for the other man’s things and held it after he was done replacing his sunglasses. And he was sure he would have been walking with it towards the exit of the café hadn’t it been for the man stopping him who muttered a gratitude but expressed that he should stop doing it. He shrugged it off, completely ignoring how he is acting towards him. Wasn’t he the one who is in need and not him? He was tired that he always had his way. This is the last time, so it isn’t time that he had his way instead?

He regretted that his ego overtook him as soon as the humid air slapped his face. It pricked his skin and little beads of sweat had at once formed on his forehead. He led the way and started to walk in a comfortable pace although not exactly certain which place to go. The shorter man, the difference in height is now noticeable with both of them standing, followed suit but kept his distance. Neither of them uttered a word and he was relieved as he thinks it’s the best thing to do. He was tired he’d have another disagreement with him. He looked up and saw the leaves sing as a hot afternoon breeze danced through.

After several minutes of what had seemed an endless wild goose chase, his feet had come to a halt to a place he knew he wouldn’t like. He deemed it was actually hate but it doesn’t matter. As he leaned against a handrail, he dared to take a glance at his left just to see his expression. He wasn’t surprised he didn’t suppress the disappointment and perhaps, even disgust. He rummaged his pocket for the pack of black menthol cigarettes.

“I thought you stopped doing this.”

He stuck one stick in between his lips before replacing the pack back to his pocket and reached for his lighter.

“You thought?”

He asked as if it was the most incredulous thing he ever heard. And it was. He couldn’t help but give him a meager yet loud laugh as a reply. He had to hold the stick in between his fingers and the lighter by his other hand to give himself a moment to recover from laughing too hard. Sardonic as it seems, it is by far the longest, if not loudest, he’d ever laughed today. Even in the past few months. If only he still is the same person as before those few months, it wouldn’t be this caustic.

He put again the stick in between his lips, inhaling and savoring the flavor, a little more than he normally would, before blowing a nicotine-filled air. Even with the weather he would never like, it eased and relaxed him, having his fill of warm noxious air in his lungs. Just like this.

A few more hits into his cigarette, he had turned his head to him when he spoke up, his brow raised.

“I’m sorry.”

There are far sorrier and pitiful cases in this world; he was undoubtedly convinced that his sincerity, or the lack thereof, doesn’t even matter. Albeit he was pleased, but would never admit, for hearing an apology. Even if it was full of lies or full of truth. Whichever it was, it didn’t matter now. None of it would ever do.

With the final ashes cluttering and racing downwards from his mouthful, he slowly opened his lips and an unruly cloud of smoke escaped. He threw the cigarette before nodding in agreement that everything has come to an end. This has also come to an end. He continued to cross his arms against his chest and dared not to look sideward. He refused to.

“You live well.”

He said as he gave him one last pat on the shoulder before forcing to turn his back on him. He started to walk away.

-

“Congratulations Mr. Lee. He had signed the divorce papers.”

His attorney sat across him, a tall cup of his favorite Americano freshly-served and stood at the table in front him. Although he was relieved, he could sense forthcoming news with the way the lawyer didn’t sound pleased himself.

“Mr. Cho had requested one last favor before his lawyer would submit the papers.”

. Why does he always have to make things complicated? Wasn’t it enough he had to waste a day with him where he did everything he told him to do so? Wasn’t it enough he almost begged on his knees so he would ing sign the papers?

“Is everything alright there?”

He calmed himself before answering his fiancée, his soon-to-be wife. And it was the biggest reward he was getting from going through these trifling things his soon-to-be ex-husband had set up.

“He wanted to see me one last time.”

“Well, if this would end and sever all ties between you and that man, please do so for the both of us.”

After driving for a few hours, he arrived and pulled over to an overly and unfortunately familiar house. He laughed. If he is thinking this would bring him back, he thought absolutely wrong. He didn’t feel anything but one thing: he despised being back here.

As he entered, everything was in its place as far he could remember. He looked but figure he wasn’t anywhere here but he couldn’t help but glance at the photo they shared when they were still together: he was being kissed on the forehead, both of their eyes closed. He shook his head in disgust.

He was getting impatient. He reached for the master’s bedroom and there he finally found him in his desk, his back facing him.

“Ah. You finally came.”

He wheeled his office chair to face him. He was about to say something but was stopped.

“You live well.” And he saw him held up a gun to his head, a genuine smile danced on Kyuhyun's lips. He hadn’t seen it for awhile.

“Sungmin.”

The trigger went off.

a/n: ...and that's done and over with. questions? ask.fm twitter