No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.

-C.S. Lewis

Yixing had a morning routine set down.

After he brushed his teeth, he would eat an egg, usually hard-boiled, with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Follow it down with a glass of cold water, and when he needed a boost, a Hershey Kiss. No caffeine. Go out for a quick walk in as little clothing as socially acceptable, maybe a tee shirt and athletic shorts, even in the snow. Come back for a warm shower. 

But when Yixing woke up that morning, his routine went out the open bathroom window.

He was awake in an instant. No one else was (supposed to be) in the house; Jongdae was with some couple named Kyungsoo and Jongin, Sehun was staying with his girlfriend, and Baekhyun was at Chanyeol's.

Yixing didn't like open windows.

As quietly as he could, he shut the window and grabbed the letter opener he kept in the bathroom cabinet. He would have to get back to his room to grab the gun he hid inside his mattress.

The house was ominously silent and deathly cold, and Yixing crept back into the room easily, locking the door behind him. Nothing looked out of the ordinary.

His gun was still in its place, buried in the thick cotton wads of his ratty mattress. It was fully loaded, and it fit in Yixing's hand perfectly, almost seeming to welcome him back. 

Safety off. 

Was there any safety to begin with?

Suddenly, something creaked in the hallway outside, and Yixing whirled around on his knees, gun up at head level. He knew that creak. That was the creaking sound the floorboards outside Sehun and Jongdae's room made. 

His room was next.

Slowly, Yixing got to his feet, gun still pointed at the same spot on the door. Another creak, this one duller. The one next to the doorframe.

Yixing moved closer, one hand stretching out to undo the lock. If he could get there first, if he could open the door and just shoot--

There was a muffled click, and Yixing turned around to find himself staring down the barrel of a gun at a very familiar face.

"You were going to shoot me?" Yifan said, eyes wide and head tilted curiously to one side.

Yixing let his shooting arm drop down to his side, biting down on his tongue, knowing that nothing he said could make the situation any better for himself.

"That's so rude of you," Yifan continued. "After all I've done. You and Luhan both. Never knew when to back off, never knew when things got too dirty, never fing knew what was best for you."

Yixing's grip on the gun tightened, and his mind steadied.

Yifan laughed bitterly. "Making fun of me. Saying I was delusional. You were the misguided ones. You two couldn't see all the filth this world was covered in. All you wanted to do was let the filth live. Let dirty things ruin the clean."

To Yixing's surprise, Yifan lowered the gun.

"Absolutely disgusting," he hissed. "Dirty pieces of s ."

Finally, Yixing's tongue betrayed him. "What the f does that even mean?" he demanded, stepping forward, his years of rage and betrayal resurfacing. "You left us behind in a ratty apartment when you knew we depended on you to find ways to earn money. And where were you when Luhan got arrested? And I almost killed myself? And someone set our apartment on fire and we lost everything we'd ever owned? Where were you with your clean bulls when we were hiding under hotel beds because we killed someone you wanted us to?" His hand, almost acting of its own accord, grabbed the front of Yifan's shirt. "What were you doing? Which rat hole were you in?" To both's surprise, Yixing was crying, tears streaming uncontrollably down from his eyes.

Yifan's hand went up instinctively, finger an inch away from Yixing's face.

For the shortest moment, it was like the old days, when Luhan and Yixing fought and Yifan had to step in. There was concern, worry, something bordering on compassion, in his eyes. They looked at Yixing like he was new, like the child he was when they had to scrape out a new life together. 

Together.

The emotion disappeared almost instantly, and Yifan threw Yixing's arm off. "Shut up," he growled, gun going back up to Yixing's face.

Yixing brought his own gun up.

They stood still for a moment, guns crossed and pointed at each other.

And then the first shot rang out.

Baekhyun was still half-asleep when Chanyeol dragged him out to the car.

"Do I really have to go?" he whined, head falling off to the side on the headrest.

Chanyeol smiled. "Would you really want to be alone in the apartment?"

"How many channels do you have on the TV?"

"I don't know. I wouldn't have let you anyways."

They were on the road quickly, passing by the most trafficked areas.

"The south entrance is usually the least crowded because it's the furthest from the actual big name stores of the market," Chanyeol said, circling the parking lot for an empty spot. "But, well, today's the fashion festival, so..."

In the end, Chanyeol did find a good spot. Before exiting, he turned to Baekhyun, serious.

"I, uh, have to warn you," he said. "The person I'm going to be with, Less...she's very openly into me even though I told her I'm gay, and she...well, just don't take her too seriously, okay?"

Baekhyun frowned. "Oh. Does that mean she's going to, like, hit on you?"

"Probably." Chanyeol kissed Baekhyun quickly, smiling at how flustered it made him. "But don't worry."

The marketplace was lively, even though it was only eight in the morning.

Though it resembled a warehouse more than anything, bright storefronts, wonderful-smelling foods, and an unexpected unicorn balloon floating from every other booth made it welcoming. 

"I've only been here once," Baekhyun said as they passed a small candle vendor. "I think Yixing was trying to make us buy incense."

Chanyeol snickered. "My boss once bought a pound of honey-scented soap. I still don't know why."

"There's honey-scented soap?"

"If you can imagine a smell, there's probably soap for it. And if you can't, there still probably is one."

A female voice cut through the babble of the crowds, and a young woman--she looked just out of college--bounded over.

Baekhyun couldn't help but notice how perfectly curled her brown hair was, and how red her lipstick was, and how nicely her dress showed off her long legs.

Oh, and the way she was looking at Chanyeol.

"Hi, Chan. I heard Marc dropped out of a project again." She tilted her head, smiling coyly. "I guess you're his sub?"

"Yup. I'm doing photography today." Chanyeol pulled out a camera, seemingly from nowhere--Baekhyun hadn't seen it in the car--and gave a tight-lipped smile.

The woman noticed Baekhyun, a trace of interest in her eyes. "Who's this?"

"Oh, Less. This is Baekhyun." Chanyeol moved his hand in between the two. "He's my--"

"I'm a friend," Baekhyun interrupted.

Less held out a hand. "Very nice to meet you."

Her hand was like a vice grip, and Baekhyun discreetly nursed his fingers when Less turned back to Chanyeol.

"I think we should start with the center. That should get crowded the fastest." Less pointed down a row of shops. "J'Suis already has a line. Want to start there?"

"Sure." Chanyeol took Baekhyun's elbow. "Come on."

Several hours (and a very good pulled pork sandwich) later, Chanyeol and Baekhyun bid farewell to Less.

"That wasn't so bad," Baekhyun said, flicking through the pictures Chanyeol had taken that day.

Chanyeol shrugged. "I think she knew there was something with us. At least she has some decency."

"She seemed nice enough."

"Oh, Less' a great person, just...very persistent. Though, I guess that's a good thing."

"I'm sure." Baekhyun paused on one photo. There was himself, crouching in front of a pet shop, hand about to touch the glass of a fishtank. The light from inside cast a bluish glow on his face, giving his eyes a strange faraway look. "How'd you take a photo of me without me noticing?"

Chanyeol chuckled. "It wasn't that hard. But if you don't like it--"

"I like it, I'm just...good job, I guess." Baekhyun looked up, noticing the street signs ahead. "Oh, hey, can we stop by my house? I want to pick up some clean clothes."

"Sure." Chanyeol moved into the left lane, turning the blinker on. "Why'd Yixing kick you out again?"

"Really bad flu or something." Baekhyun looked out the window, watching as the houses became more and more rundown. "I don't know, though, he seemed kind of--"

"F ."

Chanyeol hit the brakes suddenly, and Baekhyun grabbed the overhead handle before his head could hit the dashboard.

"Crap. What's wro--" Baekhyun looked up, and his words turned into stone in his throat.

There was a crowd at the entrance of Grace Drive, and blue-red lights drifted across the pavement.

Baekhyun was out of the car in an instant, Chanyeol's voice calling his name faint in his ears. 

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Baekhyun broke out into a run, pushing through the people and two police officers with a strength he didn't know he had, slipping on black ice, skidding to a stop when he saw the ambulance parked outside his house.

The blood on the stairs.

The EMT shouting at someone, possibly himself.

The achingly familiar man on the stretcher being loaded into the ambulance.

Warm hands grabbed at him, but Baekhyun felt himself hit the pavement anyways.