He lays the body down; slowly, gently, more carefully than he’s even been before. His hands are coloured red now, the red of his still-fresh blood.

His hands reach up to wipe away the remnants of tears that lie dried on his cheeks - his cheeks have swipes of blood on them now, but that’s okay.

You shouldn’t have died.

This shouldn’t have happened.

He thought that everything had been so perfectly planned out.

He never anticipated his old partner would suddenly come knocking on his door, dagger in hand, asking if he could kill his target.

He always expected that one day the day would come - but not so soon. He thought back then that he would have already resolved everything by the time Kyuhyun came.

“What now?” Jungsoo whispers to him. The man trembles, and his eyes are shiny with unshed tears as he stares at the motionless body of Kyuhyun resting on the cool surface of the floor.

He lets his smile fade away, the smile that he’s been keeping on so that Kyuhyun could see it in his last moment. “Wait here for me. I’ll be gone a little while.” He stares at Kyuhyun’s eerie stillness for a moment longer than he should, because all it does it choke him up and cause nostalgia to hit the depths of his mind; abruptly, he stands, holding the dagger that’s coated in Kyuhyun’s blood tight and reaching down to take the dagger from Kyuhyun’s hands.

His eyes travel over Kyuhyun’s dagger; shimmering metal, with the only droplets of blood being those sprayed from Kyuhyun’s body.

I’m sorry.

Jungsoo stays in his place as Heechul exits the door, and Heechul doesn’t bother to say anything else because he knows Jungsoo will wait for him to return; for now, he only has one thing left that he can do for his partner.

This is all I can do for you now, Kyuhyun.

“What?”

The man’s expression is marred with trepidation, his jaws opening and closing as if he wishes to say something but the words won’t escape his throat.

“I’m sorry,” his voice comes out a little more strangled, a little more hoarse than he’d anticipated; he pulls out the daggers, one shiny and relatively clean, the other painted over with shades of dried blood. “Kyuhyun… He didn’t kill anyone. This is his dagger.”

Ryeowook takes it with trembling hands, and then reaches out for Heechul’s dagger - he lets his hand hover a few centimetres away from it with an expression akin to mortified horror. “This is his? All his?”

“Yeah.” He swallows. “It’s his blood.”

Ryeowook takes it in his hand, and Heechul lets him. He’s never interacted with the man before, and yet he can see the way he’s so close to shattering. “You know how to get to Jongwoon’s house?”

“Yeah.”

“Go there for the night, be safe.” Kyuhyun would want you to be safe, even if it meant going to live with Jongwoon.

And all he can do is turn and walk away, head bowed and hands empty, as he lets the man break into pieces behind him, holding close the blade that is stained with the last remnants of a man now gone.

“You’re back.”

“Yeah.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“Say goodbye to him.” Heechul strides to the body that lies unmovingly on the floor, his clothes matted red with dried blood. All this time, every time we’ve had to bury someone, you’ve been the one doing it. I didn’t think I’d be burying you one day.

He crouches so he can pick up the body more easily; his fingers brush Kyuhyun’s pale skin. It’s cold to the touch. Jungsoo stays still as he shoves the door open with his foot, staggering out with Kyuhyun’s body leaning against him.

Come away now, my partner.

Let’s go to your favourite place.

May you rest in peace.

Jungsoo is waiting for him when he comes back. “Are you okay?” he queries, his gaze searching.

“Yes,” he avoids the man’s eyes, instead focusing on the floor where streaks of red still remain, “I’m fine.”

“You just lost someone you loved…”

“I said,” his tone is frostier than icicles hanging off abysses, “I’m fine.”

He busies himself with getting a wet cloth and wiping the blood off the floor. “Why are you being like this?” he hears Jungsoo ask quietly. “Was it something that I said?”

“No.” When he looks up and meets Jungsoo’s gaze, his eyes reflect the cold sheen of metal daggers, his lips set in a thin, impassive line. “You shouldn’t bother with asking me what I feel.”

“Why not?” Jungsoo protests weakly, his gaze wavering, “I care about how you feel.”

“You shouldn’t.”

His response is curt, blunt, and it shuts Jungsoo up.

Is it because I said that I’m in love with you? Jungsoo wonders, staring as Heechul stands abruptly and turns his back, striding back in the direction of the kitchen. Why don’t you want me to care about you? Why does it matter to you how I feel?

Is it not enough that I feel like a