VIII. Between Heaven and Hell

There Will Be Blood

Part VIII. Between Heaven and Hell 
 

Kyungsoo stood at the edge of a huge body of water that expanded outwards as far as the eye could see. The still water was dark and unmoving and he stared out, gaze blank as he absorbed the seemingly eternal vastness of the view before him. He could have been on the shore of a huge lake, or perhaps he stood before an unnamed sea — but the waters were void of motion and something at the back of his neck prickled at the unnaturalness of it.  

“Will you go?”

When Kyungsoo turned, he moved slowly, as though every joint and muscle in his body were protesting against even the smallest of motion. Sehun stood beside him, gaze far off as he too stared out across the water. 

Kyungsoo turned away, unsure how to respond.

“No one will blame you, if you do.” Sehun offered, almost kindly. 

The water was cold against his feet and Kyungsoo looked down to absorb the sight of darkness washing across his toes. It was as if the liquid were staining his pale skin a dirty grey. He exhaled wearily, the sensation oddly soothing. He hadn’t realised he had been burning until the chill of the water entered his flesh.

When he spoke, the words that left him sounded confessional. “I tried so hard to be humane. I tried to prove it to the people around me.” Sehun nodded in understanding at Kyungsoo’s words, the expression on his young face sympathetic. “But I don’t feel human. I’m no one. I can’t seem to find a solid shape to stick to.”

“Your soul is malleable.” Sehun offered. 

“Yes, I suppose thats one way to put it. I’m fluid — unable to take a solid form. I try on shapes in the hopes they’ll hold me together, but it never lasts for long. I always end up discarding them, after a while.” 

Sehun shrugged. “You discard the shells you force yourself into the same way you discard the people you claim to love.”

Kyungsoo grimaced. 

“Fleeing is a natural response.” The teen offered generously, looking down at the cold water that lapped against their ankles. The chill soothed the ache in Kyungsoo’s bones. “But sometimes there comes a time where you have to make a choice.”

“I know.” Kyungsoo hated how old he sounded. There was no fight left in him — he had been drained and all that was left was exhaustion. The water was cold against his calves and for a moment the desire to wade deeper and let the water claim him almost overwhelmed him. 

“You’re the kind of person who thinks loving someone means sending them away.”

Sehun’s tone was judgment free, but Kyungsoo still flinched. He turned towards the teen, absorbing the sight of his fair face and sharp features. 

“The people I love are too good to be tied down to someone like me.” 

Sehun was young, his mind not yet blemished by the taint of trauma. The hardships of living had not yet left their scars. People like that always loved easier. “It’s unavoidable. In the end, everybody has to say goodbye. You may as well start practicing early before the pain becomes too much to live with.”

“If all that lies at the end is a farewell, shouldn’t you do your best to stay with those you love as long as you possibly can?” Sehun asked simply. “If we all have to say goodbye eventually, shouldn’t you try harder to hold on?”

Kyungsoo swallowed thickly, tongue darting out to his chapped lips. The thought of loving someone wholeheartedly and without restraint had always been tantalising, but he also knew that people couldn’t bear to be loved by a person like him. The things he loved he clutched too tight: when he finally forced himself to let go, he left claw marks that wept blood. But he supposed neither one of them was right nor wrong — they simply viewed the world through differing perspectives. And who was he, to deny Sehun of his truth.

The water had risen steadily — it had silently engulfed him up to the waist and Kyungsoo frowned as he looked down at it. The pull of the current beneath the still surface surprising in its strength. Sehun sighed and Kyungsoo looked up, their eyes meeting. A small, faint smile curved the edges of Sehun’s lips — the expression was sad, somehow. “You can’t keep running.” The teen turned away from Kyungsoo, gaze settling on a point far away. “Now you have to choose.”

“Will it be painful?”

“I don’t know.” Sehun sounded unsure — like a child, afraid of receiving a hurt for giving the wrong answer. “I’m sorry.”

Kyungsoo sighed wearily. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“But are you willing?” Sehun asked, the words tinged with worry. “You have to be willing, this time.”

“There are different kinds of willingness.” Kyungsoo said in response. “I’ve always been willing to endure.” 

Sehun shook his head. “Enduring isn’t enough anymore, you know that.” He reached out, taking Kyungsoo’s hand. 

Sehun’s skin was frigid, ice like to the touch. Kyungsoo briefly wondered if the teen was truly as cold as the temperature of his hand suggested, or if it was him, burning. The thought was lost as Sehun led him out, deeper into the rising water. As they waded out, Sehun continued to speak, almost to himself. 

“You endured the hunger, you tampered it down and ignored how ravenous you were.” The dark water reached them to the armpits. Kyungsoo was surprised by how heavy it felt, the pressure around his chest unexpected. “But ungodly hungers can’t be denied. Now it’s time to think about what you want and how far you’re willing to go in order to get it.” 

Kyungsoo floundered, struggling desperately with the words lodged in his chest. When he finally mustered the strength to answer, they felt as though they were tearing holes in his throat on their way out. 

“I want someone to choose to stay.” 

I’m willing to be cruel.

I’m willing to be depraved. 

Kyungsoo’s heart felt bruised. All of the words he had kept locked away were useless now — once he had thought they might have been precious or important to someone, in some way. If not to someone else, surely freeing to himself when he finally chose to speak them aloud. Now he felt a fool, because they had grown dull and meaningless, like rusted weights that could not be removed. At one point, he had had so many truths and so many confessions. They were still there, but what did they matter? Saying things aloud didn’t mean they’d suddenly be of any consequence, or that someone would suddenly start to care.

As if though he could hear Kyungsoo’s churning thoughts, Sehun’s lips curved into a sad smile. “Being is an ache, Kyungsoo. Are you willing to risk the pain of bearing your soul to another person?”

“I am.” Kyungsoo replied as he the teen, his expression a combination of savage joy and terrible grief as he pushed Sehun forcefully beneath the surface of the black water. For a moment, Sehun’s laughter rung out through the heavy air, so bright and clear before the water stole the sound away. The water rippled violently as the teens slender figure disappeared into the murky darkness and Kyungsoo strained as he held him beneath the churning blackness, until suddenly, stillness. 

I’m willing to suffer. 
 



Kyungsoo woke up in agony. The heart monitor beside him came to life with a flurry of frantic beeping and he convulsed, eyes rolling back into his head as all of his senses were bombarded with hurt — hurt, so much of it, in rolling, pulsing waves that would crash over him without mercy. When he finally thought the waves stopped, more would take over from the last. He let out a choked breath, vision clearing despite the pain that remained.

“Kyungsoo.” 

Kyungsoo turned towards the voice, eyes wild and wide. Jongin was beside him, half risen from the chair he had been seated on. The doctor was the most dishevelled that Kyungsoo had ever seen him — he looked tired, his normally supple olive complexion stressed and wan, bruise like shadows startling under his dark eyes. His hair was not styled as it was normally, instead it hung around his face naturally, softening his features in a youthful way, despite the tense set to his shoulders. Even though he wore an expensive tailored suit as usual, Kyungsoo couldn’t help but note the crinkles in the fabric, something he knew the doctor would not normally tolerate. 

“You’re awake.” The relief in the simple statement was so sincere and startling that Kyungsoo temporarily forgot the pain he was in. He heaved in a breath, trembling as he reached out without thought to clutch Jongin’s hand.

“I killed him.” The voice that left him didn’t feel like his own — he sounded empty, as if he were too stunned to process emotions. He knew that wasn’t the case, though. The emotions he currently felt were shocking in their severity.

“You did.”

“I killed him.” Kyungsoo repeated dumbly as he slumped into the bed he laid in, lungs straining as the panic set in. “He did nothing wrong, but I drowned him.”

The Doctor’s grip on his hand tightened, but his voice was clear when he spoke. “Who are you talking about, Kyungsoo?”

“Sehun.” Kyungsoo choked out. “He asked me to make a choice, and I did. He asked me if I was willing, and I am.”

A beat.

“I see.” Jongin’s tone was unreadable, but something about the simple two-word answer set Kyungsoo’s brain on fire. The blaze seared through his skull, like a wildfire that claimed all other coherent thoughts and turned them to ash. Only the madness remained.

“Did you?” Kyungsoo heaved himself towards the Doctor, shaking violently as he simultaneously dragged Jongin towards him with claw like fingers. His eyes were wild, expression twisted in desperation. He was breathing hard and fast, but the air didn’t seem to be reaching his lungs. Distantly, Kyungsoo could hear voices entering the room and the heart monitor blaring. “Did you really see?”

Jongin’s expression remained smooth and calm, the hand of his free hand rising to gently curve around Kyungsoo’s cheek. “I did.” There was something in Jongin’s dark eyes — before Kyungsoo could decipher the emotion, the fire in his brain claimed him, his eyes rolling back in his head as his vision seared to coal black and nothingness stole him away once more. 
 



Occasionally, thereafter, Kyungsoo would rise to the surface of consciousness. 

“… inflammation due to the traumatic brain injury — two broken ribs, a punctured lung… continuous rehabilitation will be required to regain motion in left arm…” 

He would catch snippets of conversations, his vision swimming sickeningly before he would sink back into the bliss of unconsciousness. The darkness was softer and less violent, far gentler on his tortured senses. 

“… hallucinations… told me he killed Sehun—” Jongin’s dulcet tones, speaking softly to someone nearby. 

“I knew he was fragile… the shock of all this will be too destabilising —” Minseok’s exhausted voice, responding.

Kyungsoo faded in and out as if some part of him was undecided as to whether or not returning to the world was what it wanted — perhaps subconsciously his brain recognised that a lot of hurt was awaiting him, upon waking. It was only natural, after all, to try and avoid pain. Still, the longer he drifted, the harder it was for him to remember what it was he wanted to do.

“… penetrating injury to the abdominal cavity caused massive blood loss and shock… surgery was successful in repairing damage but sepsis — “

“— the blood infection might yet kill him —”

It was confusing, being neither here nor there. Kyungsoo struggled in more lucid moments to recall just what he was meant to do. Far off in the back of his mind he could hear the steadily growing sound of a flowing river. Vaguely, Kyungsoo registered that the seat by the bed to his right was occupied, and he turned, joints cracking.

Chanyeol sat where Jongin had once been, expression serene. His lips were curved upwards ever so slightly, attractive features relaxed and warm. For some reason, only the lower half of Chanyeol’s face was in focus — from the nose up, his features became a distorted mass of blurred shades that Kyungsoo simply could not organise into sense. It was as if the man before him was a reconstruction from a memory that Kyungsoo had forgotten a fundamental part of, and the part he couldn’t recall, his brain left blank. 

“It’s easier, isn’t it? Being here, I mean.” Chanyeol’s deep voice was pleasant on the ears. Looking at the top half of Chanyeol’s face was making his headache, so Kyungsoo lowered his gaze to the taller man’s mouth.

Chanyeol lips were curved upwards in a kind smile and the taller man leaned forwards. 

“Will you stay?” Chanyeol asked. “No one will blame you, if you do.”

The words were offered kindly but Kyungsoo frowned, something niggling at the back of his mind. He had heard the same, from someone before. And he had already made up his mind the first time, when they had asked — the darkness had simply forced him to forget for a while. He dragged his eyes upwards and forced himself to look, ignoring the building pain — the unfocused section of Chanyeol’s face was twisting, two points of blackness slowly growing the longer Kyungsoo stared. Chanyeol sighed, the sound oddly irritated. 

When he spoke, Chanyeol’s voice was no longer warm — it was edged with venom and the words were directed coldly. His features too, were no longer kind: his face had darkened, all traces of gentleness gone. The longer Kyungsoo watched, the more the man before him seemed to turn to shadow before his very eyes: darkness streaked across his once handsome features, warping his previously warm expression into something other. Drops of something dark dripped from the two black points that grew steadily on his upper face and Kyungsoo watched in silent horror as Chanyeol’s gorged eye sockets came into focus. When he looked down, there was a savage hole torn in the front of Chanyeol’s neck, blood and meaty tissue shining wetly. How could he have missed it? How could he have forgotten?

“I killed you.” Kyungsoo’s voice came out a weakly and Chanyeol grinned at the sound of it.

“You did.” The tall man leaned over him, face coated in a sheen of blood. Kyungsoo shuddered, staring up in horror as pulsing wet gore oozed from Chanyeol’s eye sockets and dripped warm onto his upturned face. “You did a really good job of it, too.”

This was a fever vision, the result of his shattered mind slamming together fragments of various broken dreams and thoughts in order to form something semi-coherent. The collision he was in was a quiet albeit violent one, and it was one that he was experiencing alone. As soon as Kyungsoo pinpointed a fragment of sense on which to hold on to, everything seemed to rebuild off it within his brain: there was a sudden surging as wakefulness hit him.

Someone was crying hysterically — seconds later, Kyungsoo realised it was him.
 



Jongin was almost constantly by his side. Whenever Kyungsoo woke from a fitful nap and the doctor was gone, panic would quickly set it. 

What if something happens? What if someone tries to hurt him? What if there was someone out there, just down the hall —”

“It’s post-traumatic stress.” Jongin explained gently as Kyungsoo clutched his hand, nervous tension causing his body to sway slightly. “The last time you saw me leave served as the premise of a very horrific series of events. You’ve come to associate my departure with violence.” 

Kyungsoo couldn’t reply — the taste of metallic warm blood had filled his mouth. The sensation was so real that he couldn’t bring himself to speak: he was too afraid that if he did, rather than words it would be gore that would come gushing up his throat to spew from between his lips. 
 



When they thought he was asleep, Kyungsoo would hear them talk in hushed tones.

“Look at him.” Minseok sounded tormented. “He’s beyond traumatised. He’s practically catatonic.”

“The wounds are still fresh in the mind.” Jongin responded quietly. “He’ll improve, with time.”

“How can we expect him to heal with the frenzy all this has generated?” Minseok asked. “It was already a high exposure case, but now even more so. The media will tear him apart as soon as he’s released from this hospital. They’ll hunt him down, no matter where he goes — he’ll never be able to escape.”

When Jongin responded, his tone was coloured with distaste. “I saw the article.”

“I don’t know how Zhang Yixing got the information and photos he did. Someone on the inside has got to have leaked it out to him, but who, I don’t know. We’re investigating, but they’ve done a good job at covering their trail.” Minseok said, sounding tired. “I always knew he was a vicious journalist, but that article was really…” Minseok trailed off.

“Tasteless?” Jongin said simply, filling the blank Minseok had left. 

“Tasteless, yeah.” Minseok replied.

Jongin snorted lightly but when he spoke, his tone was dark and infused with a promise that could not be denied.

“Mister Zhang will get his just deserts, sooner or later.”
 



Kim Joonmyeon had come to see him, just once. 

He was as beautiful and insincere as Kyungsoo remembered — all clear skin, balanced features, and coldly coloured suits. His hair was parted down the centre, dark waves neat and natural as he sat, lean legs crossed, and slender hands folded. Joonmyeon’s expression gave absolutely nothing away — he was the type of person that took pride in maintaining a high degree of control over any and all emotions, and it was reflected in the way he presented himself. Even his posture was carefully held. Kyungsoo imagined that being Joonmyeon would have been exhausting.

“Kyungsoo.” Joonmyeon offered as a means of greeting. He turned towards Jongin, eyes flashing. “— and Mister Kim.”

Jongin inclined his head in greeting, lips quirking up slightly. “Joonmyeon. Long-time no see.”

“Yes, long time no see. It’s nice to see you, although the circumstances are a shame.” Joonmyeon paused for a moment, gaze distant for a second before he turned to Kyungsoo. “I just wanted to come by to see how you’re going. Are you recovering well?”

Kyungsoo swallowed thickly. “Well enough.” His voice was coarse with disuse. “I’m on a rather extensive mix of medications at the moment. The drugs make me cloudy.”

Joonmyeon nodded his head in understanding. “And the pain?”

Kyungsoo’s lips twisted upwards mirthlessly. “Carefully managed.” 

What he said was true — any physical pain he was in was relieved with a press of a self-administrating morphine button that hung on his bed. The process was simple enough: as soon as he felt the pain building once more, he would drug himself back to numbness. The pressing of his issues now was the damage on the inside — his mind had become twisted and he was unsure it would ever unravel. Unlike pressing a button to administer himself with painkiller, the process of picking through the mess of his emotions was no easy feat. Was it possible for his heart to resolve itself and return to the way it had been, before the horror had touched him? Kyungsoo has his doubts. If his soul had been oddly shaped and unnatural before the incident, there was no doubt in Kyungsoo’s mind that it was now malformed beyond recognition. 

“I’m glad to hear that.” Joonmyeon, unaware of Kyungsoo’s internal musings, said. There was a lull as Kyungsoo attempted to think of how to move forward — thankfully, Jongin spoke.

“Are things quietening, Joonmyeon?”

The question was a good distraction: Joonmyeon’s expression darkened fractionally. “Not as much as I would like.” The displeasure was replaced almost instantaneously with a pleasant smile that was so abrupt that Kyungsoo almost thought he were hallucinating again. “No matter. Fires like these can’t burn forever. It’s only a matter of time before things die down.”

“I’m sorry” Kyungsoo murmured, “—for all the trouble I’ve caused everyone.”

“Kyungsoo.” Jongin’s tone was a quiet admonishment. “You don’t need to apologise for doing what you had to do.”

Kyungsoo stared at his hands, Jongin’s words rolling around in his skull like pearls off a broken string. 
 



Kyungsoo knew they were walking on eggshells around him. When the shadows crept up the walls and the wind outside his window began to sound like the rattling breaths of a dying man, Kyungsoo could understand why they were so cautious. When it was night and the only company he had were the dimly flashing lights of the monitor he was attached to, Kyungsoo was thankful for the care they had taken with their words. 

But other times, a terrible and irrational rage would consume him. He wanted to scream, to throw things at the walls, to tear the bed he laid in to shreds and weep in the destruction he created. He would sit for hours, pulling on his hair and rocking back and forth as the taste of blood filled his mouth. He wasn’t a child. He wasn’t so weak that he would fall apart and break. The sound of a river would rush in his ears and murky water would flow down his walls onto the floor from the corners of his hospital room. His doctors would come and sedate him, heart monitor quietening as he drifted away.

It was after one of these exact attacks of rage that Kyungsoo, lying flat on his back as he stared at the ceiling blankly, finally asked the question that had been haunting him: 

“Sehun’s dead, isn’t he?”

Jongin stilled besides him.

“I’m sorry, Kyungsoo.” 

It was more than enough — the answer lay heavy in the Doctors words. No one had said it explicitly, but somehow Kyungsoo had already known. The confirmation was simply another wound he had resigned himself to receiving. 

Kyungsoo raised a hand to his face, placing it wearily across his burning eyes as if he could somehow block all he was hearing from causing him pain. “I thought so.” His voice was hollow. 

“It’s not your fault.” Jongin said.

“Yeah.” A burst of bitter laughter escaped him abruptly. “I saw him, you know. In a dream or a hallucination, or whatever you want you call it.” 

“I know.” 

“I drowned him.”

“Don’t let guilt prevent you from healing.” Jongin murmured. 

Kyungsoo turned to stare out the window, words rattling in his chest. “I don’t know what to do anymore.” A mixture of emotions was building in him, precariously close to overflowing, and his eyes ached horribly with the pain of unshed tears.  “What is there for me, after all this?”

“Many things. Nothing set, currently. But you mustn’t view that as a downfall— there doesn’t always have to be something awaiting your attention, from the moment you step beyond these hospital walls. Searching and finding something to give meaning is also part of the process. Focus now on recovery.”

Kyungsoo sunk into his bed. “How long have I been here, Jongin?” 

“Coming up to a month and a half, now.” 

“So long.” Kyungsoo breathed, closing his eyes wearily. “Do you know when I’ll be released?”

Jongin’s hand was gentle as he pushed Kyungsoo’s hair back from his clammy forehead. “Maybe another half month? It depends on the progress you make with your rehabilitation program. Your progress has been beyond our expectation, so perhaps sooner.”

Kyungsoo grimaced for a moment, but his expression fell quickly as the fear began to eat away at him again. “I don’t know where I’ll go, after this.” 

Jongin was silent for a moment. “I have a holiday home on the Izu peninsula, up in the hills that surround the city of Ito. You’re more than welcome to stay there, after your release.” The Doctor offered almost carefully, although he was worried Kyungsoo would hate the mere idea and take great offence at the suggestion. “It’s a beautiful area, and the home is on a secluded block. You’d have a lot of privacy.” 

Kyungsoo closed his eyes. There was nothing else waiting for him — no cases to examine, no jobs to distract himself with. He hadn’t realised it before but his life was devoid of things that brought him pleasure: he had always spent so much of his time tormented with work that there was nothing else to fall back on. There was a great chasm in him and he had no idea how to fill it. If there was a fundamental piece that all humans had in order to live with dignity, he was missing it. 

“I’d like that, I think.”
 



Like a strange sort of purgatory, time passed differently within the walls of the hospital. Sometimes, Kyungsoo forgot that there was a world that existed outside, a “real-life” that he would have to return to, eventually. He would get occasional unpleasant reminders, however. 

“Mister Do.”

Kyungsoo turned towards the voice, hand tight on the metal of the IV stand pole he shuffled beside. His legs were weak with disuse as he had only just begun to get back into the swing of walking after weeks of lying in bed. The pain of his broken ribs made the process many times harder than it should have been, but he made an effort to walk to any appointments he had to attend in the hospital.

A man stood in the doorway of the stairwell Kyungsoo had just passed, dressed in smart-casual clothes. He had a long face that tapered to a diamond jawline and chin and tousled hair that brushed against his forehead. He had dark pointed eyes, a strong nose, and small but full lips that were curved upwards to reveal almost sweet looking dimples in his rounded cheeks. He was only a few centimetres taller than Kyungsoo but he exuded an air of sureness that made him seem larger than what he really was. He was attractive, in a quiet, understated kind of way. Kyungsoo’s eyes darted away from the man’s face, instead hovering over the pale expanse of his slender throat. 

“Sorry, do I know you?” Kyungsoo asked, surprised at how timid he sounded, even to himself.

“Oh no, this is the first time we’ve met.” The man smiled gently. “My name is Zhang Yixing.” 

Something about the name registered at the back of Kyungsoo’s brain and he took an automatic step back, wheels of the IV stand he held for support spinning awkwardly. When he spoke, his tone was coloured with distrust and apprehension. “What do you want?”

For every step back Kyungsoo had taken, Yixing had countered with a step forwards of his own. “I just wanted to ask you a few questions.” It was clear Yixing was trying to make himself as non-threatening as possible — he spoke as though he was interacting with a flighty animal. However, his efforts were wasted: Kyungsoo had experienced firsthand the consequences of taking someone at face value — he wasn’t the type to be fooled twice. 

“I’m a journalist, following up on the Kanagawa Killer case. I just want to clarify some events, you see.” Yixing continued despite Kyungsoo’s obvious discomfort. “You knew Park Chanyeol, didn’t you?” There was a glint in Yixing’s eye at the mention of Chanyeol’s name that no amount of good acting could hide: greed for information that he had no right to. Kyungsoo shook his head so violently that his vision spun.

“No.” His voice came out hushed and fearful. “I didn’t know Park Chanyeol.” 

Something ugly stirred in Kyungsoo — a haunting whisper that mocked him from the depths:

If you had truly known Chanyeol, you would have seen the horror in him. 

Yixing pushed forwards, ignoring Kyungsoo’s denial. “It’s an established fact that you were present at the location of Mister Park’s rampage. Did he try to kill you because you had discovered that he was the killer?”

Kyungsoo continued to shake his head weakly, backing away from the journalist. “I don’t know.”

“How about the casualty, Mister Oh Sehun?” Yixing asked.

From down the hallway, Kyungsoo could hear the sound of a wave of water rushing towards them. His eyes darted frantically as he attempted to maintain the tenuous hold he had over his own mind. 

“I have reason to believe you killed Park Chanyeol, Mister Do.” Yixing’s words were like stones, flung carelessly. They tore into him and Kyungsoo physically flinched away from their delivery. “Can you confirm or deny this?”

Kyungsoo tried to speak— he opened his mouth and the words were there, perched at the back of his throat — but no sound could escape him. He floundered, air rattling painfully in his throat as he tried to gather himself. Without permission, his body began to tremble and his thoughts rushed and spun within his head, crashing together then splitting apart. They would flash like broken glass in the sun — pieces of something that had once been whole, now a senseless mess that possessed the capability to harm him with their sharp edges.

“What are you doing here?” 

Jongin’s voice carried easily down the hall and Kyungsoo turned, fighting the urge to fling himself at the Doctor as he drew near. Jongin’s expression was cold as he took in the sight of Yixing and the journalists facade dropped away — obviously they had met before and introductions had not gone well.

“Taking a look around.” Yixing replied drily, reaching a hand into an inner pocket of the jacket he wore.

“You’ve been told already, Mister Zhang, to tread carefully.” Jongin’s tone was gentle but full of threat. “I would hate to think you are overstepping yourself.”

Yixing grinned, the expression oddly savage. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He turned towards Kyungsoo abruptly, business card that he had drawn from his jacket pocket in hand. “You should get in touch, Mister Do.”

“No, no.” Kyungsoo managed to choke out, vision tunnelling as the panic overwhelmed him. “I don’t want to.”

He felt Jongin’s arm around his shoulder, turning him in the opposite direction, and heard vaguely Jongin speaking, tone of his words low and angry. 

“—emotionally fragile... triggering traumatic experiences—"

Kyungsoo wasn’t entirely present. He stared blankly down the corridor, vision flickering at the edges. From around the corner of the hallway, he could see a pool of blood spreading across the floor and he began to shake, breath hitching as the figure of a man stepped out—

“Kyungsoo?” 

Kyungsoo jumped, turning towards Jongin with impossibly wide eyes. The Doctor was looking down at him with a concerned expression on his face and Kyungsoo glanced around himself in confusion. Yixing had left without his knowledge, sent away by Jongin, and when Kyungsoo looked back down the hall in the direction he was sure he had seen a man emerge from, there was no one there.

Kyungsoo turned back to Jongin, expression tormented. “I wasn’t to go now, please.”

The floor had been clean — not a drop of blood in sight.

 

 

...
A/N
Thank you to everyone reading and commenting. I love hearing your thoughts.
See you next chapter~

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JaeKnight
#1
omg the title! <3
Nicole121314 #2
Chapter 9: Hoping that Jongin could help Kyungsoo - his fears his trauma...whatever it may be.. to overcome them al and he move on with his life.
Nicole121314 #3
Chapter 8: This is too interesting. Cant wait for the next update. thanks
siemprekaisoo
#4
Chapter 7: Such an intense and exciting chapter... can't wait to see what happens next!
Rainy_Purple #5
Chapter 7: I...wasn't expecting that but wow. That was graphic but I think you described their state of mind really well
Nicole121314 #6
Chapter 7: Uhoh. Is it real that Chanyeol killed Sehun or is it a dream?.. what hapoened to Chanyeol? And where is Jongin?
smilek #7
Chapter 6: Thank you for the update keep up the good work
Nicole121314 #8
Chapter 6: Thanks for the update dear.
ishaa1 #9
Chapter 5: Anyone watch voice 2 and 3?Kyungsoo seems similar to detective do kang woo
Nicole121314 #10
Chapter 5: Kyungsoo's mental state is very alarming... i hope someone be able to help him and cope with it.

For.you dear, please be strong and always pray ok. Be positive and don't think too much ok. And thanks for the update dear. God bless