“You’re so beautiful like this.” Jonghyun complimented. "I swear you'll be the death of me."

He didn’t feel very beautiful. He didn’t feel very much of anything. The last thing he was expecting was to die, but he hadn’t. This feeling was odd. He could feel his breath again, though his lungs were full of smoke and he didn’t dare move. Oddly enough, he could see. He wasn’t sure he’d kept his eyes open, and then again, he wasn’t completely sure his eyelids had made it. He tried to blink, and it was successful. He was alive. By the least bit, he was alive, but he was.

He wasn’t sure he could move. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. Could he cough? He attempted to, and with the expel of what little air there was, he was successful. His skin was burnt, so burnt he was sure that if he could see it, he would have no desire to. He took another breath, deeper this time, followed by another cough.

The voice he heard next was a familiar one. It screamed, it hollered, it called out for help, and it ended with another familiar bang, followed by another familiar thud onto the stone floor.

Minki moved his arm. His fingers touched the cold floor and he was rather surprised as to how cold it really was. He rolled onto his side and gasped again, stopping abruptly at the sound of footsteps once more. He stayed in position, rolling back onto his back as he’d found himself moments before. He kept his eyes open and his mouth closed, his body seeming lifeless to anyone else. He gave the man, Han, enough time to get into his car and close the door before he moved again, stretching his arms and legs, making sure they’d worked. He wasn’t too sure of his hand, which had been just as burnt, if not more so than the rest of his body, the large wound in the back of it gaping and covered in ash. The formerly beautiful, blonde haired boy checked the rest of his body. Surely he was bleeding from more places than just his hand, but he ignored it as he stumbled to his feet, most of his clothes lying in but a pile of dust behind him.

He screeched as the bottom of his foot hit the floor in his first step, his skin clearly not having had enough time to cool before he moved, and so he scooted on his knees and single working hand to the room where he’d heard the final bang.

The sight would have been much to bare, if he hadn’t seen what he’d already seen this afternoon. On a heel he turned away, wanting never again to remember what exactly had happened that day. The last thing in his sight were the two less than live bodies of his former manager, Rich, and whom he believed to have been one of his good friends, Aaron. The least sightly thing would have been what was lying in the other room, which was far from what he’d wanted to think about.

Minki bounced on the balls of his feet weakly, stumbling toward the light of the doorway, falling through it. Luckily, he'd caught himself on railing of the stairs just outside, but fallen down them. Hopefully someone would come for him. He’d wished to have seen anyone at this point.

Face down on the asphalt, he murmured one thing he was able to remember.

Jonghyun nodded, a tear in his eye now. “I know. But what if it kills me?”

“Then it’ll kill me too.”