The room is on fire. It's hot and not because of you. Or me. It's burning and nobody can save us anymore. With all escape ways blocked, we're sitting in our room. All hopes given up.

We're alone, there's only us two and the last amount of air which is getting heavier with every minute. None of us dares to speak. There's nothing to say anyway. Talking would be a waste of oxygen.

We will die eventually. Burned to death or suffocated. The air burns in my lungs.

Suddenly, you stand up. The questioning look on my face doesn't prevent you from taking my hand and drawing me up from my sitting position. Your glossy brown eyes locking with my equally hopeless ones, you pull me close and put your hands on my shoulders. Melting into your embrace, I lay my hands on your waist. Our cheeks touch as you start whispering into my ear.

It's a song. You sing with a raspy, shaky voice. It's quiet and calm. Neither do I know the song nor I do understand the lyrics, but it's strangely comforting. We begin to move. Slowly dancing to the strangled whisper of your otherwise strong and aggressive voice. The lack of oxygen has done it's job. I can barely hear it anymore, yet it's the only thing my ears can witness. Well apart from the crackling fire around us, but let's stay romantic in the last few minutes or hours I have to live.

We're slow dancing in a burning room. Nothing is important anymore. I close my eyes and feel your breakable and never as much as now vulnerable body in my arms. You're so warm but unlike the fire you are invitingly warm. I notice you hugging me tighter unconsciously and bury my face in the crook of your neck.

You stopped singing. We still dance to the rhythm of the cracking fire.

I'm sweating. It's too hot. I wonder if the others are safe. The kitchen must be ruined. Why did I leave the hot plate on? Why didn't somebody notice? I'm never going to cook again. Seriously, I don't think I will have the chance to try again, even if I wanted to. Now it's too late to blame myself.

We quit moving. I lift my head from your shoulder to gaze at your face. The light is dancing over your features. You have never looked more beautiful. Your skin is glistening with sweat. Your eyes are tired and heavy-lidded, like at nights when you stay up until 3 in the morning, writing sad love songs.

I take your head in my hands and press a kiss on your forehead.

Your closed eyes.

Your nose.

Your cheeks.

Your mouth.

Kissing you is more breathtaking than the lack of oxygen. There wasn't much of it left before, but that kiss took the last bit.

Your lips moving on mine, I wanted that feeling to be the last thing I feel. What a glorious ending, kissing my greatest idol, genius of a songwriter and rapper Kwon Jiyong. Holding his small frame. Tasting his talented mouth.

My body becomes weak. I don't know if it's because of you or due to my inability to breathe.

My vision blurs.

I hear sounds and voices outside. I want to scream for help but my mouth doesn't seem to cooperate with my brain anymore. Only with your mouth.

You leave me standing. Your body collapses. You break.

I follow you. It's so hot. I can't breathe. I can't move.

Everything is red and black.

It's too hot.

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A/N: Seungri attempted to cook and now everybody's dying. muahaha~ No, that's not funny. Seriously.