It was as if he’d lost the will to live.

Chanyeol stayed by his sickbed day and night. He barely slept, barely ate, barely talked. All he could think of was how he’d let Baekhyun trick both of them into thinking that this thing they shared was love.

The doctors were puzzled. They had predicted another two weeks, at least, after New Year. They didn’t understand why Baekhyun couldn’t wake up, being physically untouched although mentally broken beyond repair. They tried all the drugs they had on hand, all the methods they were taught, until Chanyeol could stand it no longer and told them to stop.

He stayed in the room, sometimes with Sehun, sometimes with Luhan, looking at the pale face, all hopes clinging onto the feeble beeps of the heart monitor. Occasionally the manager came in to update them about the case from the police, but they were in no mood to listen. Losing Baekhyun was something they’d been readying themselves for, but not Yixing. It had been a painful blow on everyone, especially Luhan.

When they were alone, Chanyeol would pick up Baekhyun’s skinny hand and memorize every inch of the beautiful long fingers. He still wore the ring Chanyeol gave him, on his middle finger. He would kiss the spot between his brows, his favourite spot, Chanyeol remembered. His tears had long since ran dry and he had no desire to do anything that needed him to lose sight of his love.