Broken sobs racked his frame as his world plunged in darkness.

“Jinwoo...” Seungyoon called softly, shaking him lightly.

There was no response.

It felt as if his heart had been ripped out of his chest. Everything felt so surreal and the metallic tang of blood hung heavily in the air. His lover, Kim Jinwoo, has gone limp and quiet in his arms. Seungyoon lightly caressed his beloved’s pale tear stained cheek with the back of his hand, careful not to let not even a drop of blood mar his peaceful delicate face.

“Don't go...” Seungyoon silently pleaded, brushing a strand of hair from his Jinwoo’s closed eyes, “...stay with me...”

He wanted so badly to believe that none of this was real but the striking sight of Jinwoo’s blood running on the bathroom tiles was telling him otherwise. Cradling him gently against his chest, Seungyoon could feel Jinwoo’s blood seeping through his shirt. He held on to him protectively, rocking him slightly as he pressed his cheek at the top of his head.

“I need you... ” Seungyoon whispered, his grip on his lover tightening. “...come back… please…”

Jinwoo’s hair had the distinct crisp scent of sweet apples. Seungyoon couldn’t help but grimace in guilt as the familiar scent hit him like ocean waves crashing against the sand. He shook his head weakly, the edges of his vision growing dark as hot angry tears spilled from his eyes.

Just hours ago, before they went to bed, Jinwoo had asked him for help with washing his hair. Seungyoon playfully refused him at first, pinning him to the couch to prevent him from leaving. He could still recall Jinwoo’s pale slender fingers on his skin as he lightly poked his cheeks, his pretty pink lips curving into a smile that never failed to make Seungyoon’s already captivated heart flutter even more. It was mere moments after that when he felt them ever so gently press against his temple, followed by Jinwoo’s lithe arms encircling his neck.

‘What are you doing?’ Seungyoon breathes against Jinwoo’s too close lips, his heart beginning to race in anticipation.

His beloved didn’t disappoint.

With wet lips and burning eyes, Jinwoo answers him in the best way he knows how - with his lips moving slowly against his, deliciously branding him and pulling goosebumps out of his skin. Seungyoon’s hands clasp Jinwoo’s hips, consciously molding their bodies together.

‘If you help me wash my hair...’ Jinwoo says softly against his neck, his breath teasing and hot on his skin, ‘...I’ll give you something you really want.’

Enticed, Seungyoon catches his gaze and nods, a grin forming in his lips. He cups Jinwoo’s face and draws him closer, breath hitching as he caught Jinwoo’s lips with his. One of his hands slide into Jinwoo’s hair, tangling it in an effort to stay in control.

‘What is it?’ He breathes into his lover’s ear, eyes hooded as he ever so gently trailed his lips on the side of his neck, leaving the faintest trail of kisses on his skin. “What are you going to give me?”

Distracted by the gentle flame between them now burning brighter, they come together again, leaving Seungyoon’s question hanging. Swollen lips, eager hands, Seungyoon kisses Jinwoo harder - aching for that something more, that next step that they haven’t taken. Touching and tasting, they dangerously teetered at the brink.

‘Seungyoonie...’ Jinwoo silently stares up at him, his lips well-ravished and glistening, eyes shiny under the soft glow of an incandescent floor lamp. “...I’ll buy you some pudding.”

The wail of sirens assaulted Seungyoon’s ears as they edged closer, bringing him out of his reverie. Soon there are hurried heavy footfalls thundering down the hall.

“We’ve over here!” Seungyoon shouted, voice tinged with urgency, banging with all his might on the bathroom door with one hand while holding on to his lover’s lifeless form with the other.

.

.

.

Han Jeongkyung reluctantly opened his eyes, his gaze falling on the glowing digits displayed on the digital clock atop his bedside table. It was a little over two in the morning and his phone lying on top of the book he had been reading that night furiously flashed as it rang.

A strange inexplicable deep feeling started to well within him and without much conscious thought he reached for the device, his features lightly scrunching at the unfamiliar numbers it displayed on the screen.

Accepting the call, he warily raised the device to his ear. “Hello.”

“Hello.” A steady voice on the other end of the line greeted back. “Is this Mister Han? Han Jeongkyung?”

“Yes.” He answered, a puzzling cold feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

“This is the ER at the Samsung Medical Center...”

His eyes widened slightly, a dull shockwave of pain growing in his chest.

The trip to the hospital seemed to take hours in his mind. In reality, his watch reflected that not even ten minutes had passed since he received the call. With most of the city’s inhabitants still entrapped in deep slumber, their vehicle sped along Seoul’s nearly empty roads - the scenery outside the window blurring into a dark shoddy structural mess until they stopped at a red light.

Growing restless, Jeongkyung looked up, sharing a glance with the chauffeur on the rearview mirror.

“How much longer until we get there?”

“About ten minutes, sir.” The driver answered, fingers drumming against the steering wheel.

Sinking back into his seat, Jeongkyung looked out the window once more and for several minutes he could do nothing but stare. Cold, distant stars watched him from above. He cursed softly under his breath, glaring at the sky.

Arriving at the hospital, he headed straight to the reception desk. After giving the attendants there his name and contact information, a nurse immediately escorted him down a long corridor and into a desolate waiting area.

“He’s over there.”

The nurse pointed at an almost unrecognizable young man slumped down on the floor by the OR doors. He had his head tucked between his knees, hair sticking out in all directions, his feet bare.

Jeongkyung stared at the young man before him reluctantly, clenching his fingers tightly against the strap of the duffel bag he carried.

“He isn’t hurt.” the nurse turned to him, pausing slightly, “At least, not physically.”

“Doryeonnim?”

Kang Seungyoon slowly raised his head, looking up at him with lackluster eyes. His withdrawn demeanor and solemn expression told him everything he needed to know.

Dried smears and flecks of blood tainted the side of his face and neck, an awful reminder of the horrific incident that just transpired.

He moved towards him a little closer. ing the jacket he was wearing, he slipped it off his shoulders and draped it over the young man.

“Think you can stand?” He offered his hand and waited.

Kang Seungyoon shook his head slowly, it took a few moments before he started to move. Standing on his own, he pulled Jeongkyung’s jacket around him tightly and started walking.

They made their way towards the nearest restroom wordlessly. The strong smell of blood hung around them, making Jeongkyung restless. He lowered his gaze, his eyes settling on Seungyoon’s bare feet. They were matted with dirt, the dried blood on his soles and ankles flaking.

When they finally reached the restroom, Jeongkyung hurriedly pushed the door open. Stepping to the side, he pulled Seungyoon in with him and locked the door. He walked over to the toilet and lowered the lid. Placing the duffel bag he had been carrying with him on top of it, he then rolled up his sleeves.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Jeongkyung’s jacket was covering Seungyoon the entire time. He slipped it off his shoulders, pausing at the sight of the t-shirt he wore underneath. The fabric clung to his lithe frame - blood had soaked through it, staining even his jeans. The sharp metallic scent was overwhelming.

Seungyoon turned away from him and peeled his shirt off, leaving the nonsalvageable article on the tiled floor. Turning back to face him, streaks of blood covered his torso and his arms, dried and smeared on his pale skin. Jeongkyung squeezed his eyes closed, hands trembling.

“Don’t worry.” He heard Seungyoon say, voice soft but steady.

Jeongkyung nodded weakly, taking a good look at the young man standing in front of him.