The light of the lamps paints Sanghyuk's entire vision orange as he closes his eyes. It looks much like the rays of the setting sun on a cloudless sky as the brightest star ascends, disappearing under the horizon and bringing on the darkness of the night.

He wonders if Hakyeon could see it, too, when they brought him into the building on a stretcher. He probably could, only his brain didn’t process the sight.

Sanghyuk doesn’t cry easily. He wishes he could weep quietly like Wonshik or let the sadness flow out of him the way it does from Jaehwan's eyes, instead of sitting here like a statue. Maybe he is just in a shock and the crying will come later, when he is lying in his bed wide awake, staring at the ceiling but seeing nothing in the dark.

He sat through the excruciatingly long ride to the hospital silently, listening to Taekwoon's sniffling in the driver’s seat as he tried his best not to break down before they could reach the building. He also heard Hongbin chanting “please” softly, huddled up on the seat behind Taekwoon as he was. Wonshik kept gasping in front of him like he was trying not to drown in a massive body of water, but Jaehwan in the middle was just as mute as Sanghyuk himself. He only held Sanghyuk's hand tightly.

Taekwoon disappeared as soon as a doctor emerged from the operating room, almost whispering to them, “I am so sorry, we couldn’t help”. He didn’t even wait for an explanation, for the doctor to elaborate, to tell them the reasons: brain damage, collapsed lungs, too much blood. Sanghyuk listened obediently and made no effort to acknowledge Wonshik's sharp exhale, Hongbin's long-suppressed sounds finally bursting out of him, or when Jaehwan stood up without a word, only to return with a cup of coffee he didn’t seem to understand why he bought.

It would be easier to think of it in a scientific way: a road accident went wrong, a patient whose body gave up fighting. Brain damage, collapsed lungs, too much blood.

But Hakyeon isn’t just a medical case to Sanghyuk. Hakyeon has been beside him for so many years, watching him turn from a child into an adult, supporting him, helping him grow up. Sanghyuk doesn’t feel like a grown-up yet and Hakyeon isn’t here anymore to show him how to be an adult, a good person. Like Hakyeon himself.

He shuts his eyes even more tightly and the orange sunset disappears, turning everything into black.

He wishes he could have said goodnight to Hakyeon.