-I’ll take care of this- said Kyungsoo.

Jongin looked at him with sharp eyes, almost like blades, but didn’t say anything, just nodded. He would have wanted to just stretch his arm and take him by the waist, keep him close while his men worked their bloody magic to eliminate the intruders, but he couldn’t. He was his best assassin and most of his men, he knew, had already been killed by the two swift guys in mask in the back.

He closed his eyes and slowly breathed out.

-Go- he said, hoping Kyungsoo could hear all the desperation in his voice, everything he couldn’t bring himself to say out loud.

And he did, of course he did. Jongin’s soul had been stripped to the bones by those large hazel eyes and curled around his tiny fingers. Kyungsoo lowered his head in one last goodbye, but Jongin couldn’t bring himself to let him go. How could he turn his back to the only real thing that had managed to melt the ice around his heart?

So he softly pulled him closer by the waist, making their lips crash into each other. And it was hard and unexpected, and it was bloody and heartbreaking, and it was beautiful and lovely. Soft full lips on thinner ones, seeking warmth and love, seeking a way out that didn’t exists.

Jongin wanted to kiss him into oblivion, he wanted to trace his skin with his mouth until he had mapped all his lover’s little moles, peppering pecks along his jaw, his neck, his shoulder blades… he could have stayed blind for the rest of his life, just sensing Kyungsoo’s hands gently placed on his face, caressing his cheeks.

But he couldn’t.

All his costumers were running to get to the exit in total chaos, before being recognized by someone that could turn them to the police. It was a tornado of limbs and dresses, blood spreading everywhere from the first shots of the enemies. Bullet holes appeared on many heads and torsos, knife cuts and bruises from a spiked club. Organs and raw flesh flying everywhere, spilling over his expensive furniture and his clothes, some droplets even on his face in a disgusting yet fascinating portrait of pure rage and hatred.

Jongin just wiped the blood with his slender finger from his cheek and stood up, looking at Kyungsoo run toward the mess in front of them. He knew he would protect him at all costs, but what if he lost? What if a bullet cut through his combat uniform and left him agonizing on the floor, just like everybody else? He would transform into a corpse just like every other human on the planet, a sack of flesh who once had a meaning and a purpose, who he once he had loved and stretched his hand to, feeling the warmth of his body and his beating feelings, locked so far away in his heart.

And yet he couldn’t. He had to protect his family by remaining Kai, the head of Exo. He couldn’t afford to go back being Jongin and throw himself in the middle of the fight to rescue Kyungsoo.

So he did the only thing he had to do: took the money and left the room, toward his car.

-Please, stay alive- he whispered, his words lingering in the air like a prayer.

Please.

At the end, come back to me.

It was just like he remembered it: the still, dense darkness surrounding him like a thick fog. Every sound was muffled, every color taken away from his eyes, only his hands moving, clutching the gun, and a knife between his teeth. Aim, shoot, penetrate and cut.

That was the routine engraved in his mind and he was about to take full advantage of his experiences when he found himself surrounded, not by his darkness, but by actual people, aiming at his head with assault rifles, their tiny red lights lingering on his forehead.

Why the hell was the police there?

Desperation flooded his body in a tidal wave, strong enough to knock the air off his lungs but also giving him the motivation to move again: he had to protect Jongin, even if it meant dying in the process, because he had given him meaning, he had giving him nice things to live for, a love to fight for.

A feral growl escaped his lips as he launched himself in the crowd of black uniforms, bullets fluctuating in the air like deadly dark pearls.

Dying to protect what he treasured the most in his cold heart… that could also be nice.

Jongdae was still sitting on his chair, his glass full of wine in his hand, watching the old man in front of him get up and leave, like nothing was at stake more than himself. Xiumin’s father was running away for the last time, leaving his wife and kid behind him; the poor woman had been shot in the leg and upper torso and was now laying ungracefully on the floor with her eyes half closed, still in her beautiful dress.

Jongdae couldn’t look away from her, how her arms were positioned on the floor like a ballerina, one on her stomach and one pointing at his table. She was judging him, that was what the young man thought, before hearing the footsteps: he was surrounded by police men, rifles in their hands, viewfinder against their eyes.

-…Dae…- whispered Xiumin in his earpiece.

-What?-

Muffled noises came from the other side and the young gambler knew his lover was silently crying.

-I can’t even mourn her properly-

Jongdae felt his heart break in crushed little pieces. He wanted to sprint past the police and go embrace Xiumin in his arms, drying his tears with kisses and sweet words of encouragement, drown his grief in his love, but he was stuck there.

-Minnie- he said instead, using the nickname his partner always loved in the intimacy of their nights –They’re going to take me away, but no matter what, you have to know-

-Don’t-

-I love you. I always did and I won’t stop even if they’ll burn me alive and feed me to the dogs-

-ing don’t Jongdae. You can’t tell me now-

He could hear the loud sobs and tears dripping down his lover’s pale face. That was also the sound of his heart, shattering for the last time, turning into dust.

–I love you so much, you can’t leave me now-

-Hush. It’s going to be alright: you’ll visit me in prison and I’ll say funny jokes from the other side of the glass-

-God Jongdae, I love you-

-I love you too-

The first tear came like a tsunami, the second never did. They took him away in silence, not another word escaping his lips.

Suho was the happiest man alive: there it was, all Exo’s money in one giant mountain for him to climb, conquer and burn.

That was the root of all his anger and hatred, what had caused him to become the person he was now.

He took the first was of cash and stoke his with his slender fingers. It was so physical and so ephemeral at the same time. How could have just a stack of paper ruin his life up to that point? He didn’t know, he just wanted to end it all in one big firework.

He took the lighter from his pocket and burned the first bill, than two, five, ten. And then he threw them.

It was the flame of hell; Lucifer had descended upon his to make him witness his freedom being finally returned to him. Blue and red, the blaze got so high the it brushed the ceiling, hugging Suho's body with long lost warmth.

He remembered the life he had had before, all that he had lost in a matter of seconds, and he smiled.

It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

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I don't know guys, this is probably the worst thing I've written, especially the chemistry between the characters, but after the events of the past days I felt like writing the gayest thing I could write, but I'm so weak. This is just a sad period. My American friends have been calling me non stop this today and I feel so angered... 

Sorry about the rant, I just needed to vent out some of my feelings. I'll leave y'all with some cut​ies because I know we need some extra  fluffiness these days.