The riot began with a heated face-off and a firebomb and ended with kisses.
Youngjae's groan cut off in a cough, and he spat out another gob of blood, pushing it from his teeth to his lips with his tongue. "Were you seriously reciting poetry and watching me bleed out?" He scrubbed at his lips with the back of his wrist, staining it red and black.
Daehyun shrugged, getting to his feet to crouch beside Youngjae and let his eyes roam over his body, looking for anything more substantial than the many cuts and blossoming bruises. "It's an old play, actually—I thought it might've been appropriate—but yes. I didn't know if I should touch you or not."
Youngjae grunted as he struggled up onto his elbows, grimacing at the feeling of pain from bruises in places he didn't know could be bruised. "Never stopped you before ..."