He never really saw this coming.

It would be a little impossible to justify why a blade is pressed against his throat - he swallows thickly, and he can feel the cold harshness of the metal against his delicate skin.

He looks up, meeting Jongwoon’s gaze; it glimmers with a determined light. His hand has stilled by now.

He can feel the dryness in his throat as he opens his mouth to speak; he can hear his heart thudding painfully against his ribcage with every syllable that he utters, he can taste the nervousness that lingers heavy on his tongue, he can see the way his vision goes blurry, he can scent the metallic tang of his own blood in his mouth.

“Jongwoon,” he rasps quietly, lowering his gaze to the ground, to the painting that disappears in flames, “If this is your choice, then I guess it’s the last.” He hesitates. “Don’t let this go to waste, okay? If this is the path that you choose, then don’t ever give up. Don’t let my death be in vain.”

He hears his own voice ringing too loud in his ears as he speaks his final plea, as the words that may be his last finally fall out of his mouth.

“Jongwoon,” all he can do is muster the sweetest, saddest smile, filled with nostalgia and affection and every emotion that can possibly be felt, “You said you’d always protect me, so I guess it makes sense that you’re the one who kills me. Because if anyone else tried, you’d keep them away, right?”

He dares to look up, he dares to meet the mysteriously dark, unreadable orbs, he dares to let the solitary tear slip down his cheek and fall onto the unforgiving surface of the blade.

“Jongwoon,” he swallows the emotion that wells up in his throat, and now he’s crying harder, “Thank you for all these years.”

Jongwoon moves closer to him, and amongst the suffocating smoke he inhales the smell of a familiar old jacket.

I remember buying that jacket for you on your birthday, seven years ago.

You really do like it, huh.

Kyuhyun yells his name. He can feel the flames begin to spread, illuminating his room in a brilliant orange.

He closes his eyes, and lets the knife decide.

His heart is pounding so hard against his ribcage, it almost physically hurts. “Ryeowook!” The name leaves his lips fleetingly as he darts forward, but the wall of flames fan out in his direction, preventing him from reaching Ryeowook.

His only exit is the door. And Jongwoon’s only exit is the window furthest from the fire.

What am I to do?

His eyes gaze out past the rapidly-spreading flames, staring out at the sky that turns a gentler shade of the flames that engulf his vision.

It’s sunset.

But I fear that even if he were to come, he cannot do anything either.

He can distinctly pick out Ryeowook speaking in hushed tones to Jongwoon. There’s no response from the latter.

It’s okay.

Ryeowook is still alive.

Everything hurts.

Why do you have to do this, Jongwoon?

Why do you admire Heechul to this extent?

Ryeowook stops talking.

Alarm. That’s the only thing he knows now; frantic anxiety propels through his veins, his lungs heavy from smoke, as he opens his mouth to scream Ryeowook’s name.

He’s frozen in that spot, the heat from the flames beginning to at his skin; and yet, he finds himself unmoving, and the tears of cold fear are beginning to spill, and as he stands there he wonders if he’s going to die.

He can’t pull himself away, he can’t do anything but stand and let the tears fall freely as he shouts for Ryeowook almost as if his name were a mantra.

For a fleeting moment, he wonders if anyone would save him.

He doubts anyone cares enough.

His lungs are burning, his eyes watering both from the heat and from the intensity of his every messed-up emotion. “Ryeowook,” his voice is weak, breathless now.

It’ll be okay if all of us die here today.

It’ll be okay.

I love you.

So if you’re gone, it’ll be okay if I get to go with you.

And then, almost like the manifestation of his every desperate thought and plea, slender fingers wrap around his arm harshly and jerk him back, away from the red-hot flames, away from Jongwoon and Ryeowook.

And in that breathless moment, that quiet wonderment of who cared enough to save my life?, he turns around and sees Heechul staring back at him.

Ryeowook is crying.

Thank you for all these years.

He has to swallow back the tears that threaten to choke him, has to steady his hand that begins to tremble again. Ryeowook closes his eyes in patient awaitment.

Stop.

Why didn’t you fight?

Why did you give in so easily?

He hears Kyuhyun shouting for Ryeowook, his voice raw and frail; through the flames, he catches a glimpse of the man’s desperate face, tears streaking his cheeks.

Sorry, Kyuhyun.<