His feet tap against the ground, impatiently so. The marble is cool under his feet. “This is taking so long, but he says that it’ll be over soon.”

There’s a knock on the door; a maid walks in, places a tall slender glass before him before bowing nervously. “Your drink, sir.” He nods to acknowledge of it, and she exits with haste, shutting the door quietly as she leaves.

The alcohol tastes good on his tongue; the burn that runs along his tongue down his throat brings him an odd form of comfort. It’s a burning sensation, a bitter taste left in his mouth that he always hated when he was younger. He isn’t all too fond of alcohol as it is - he quite despises it still, he supposes, but he enjoys the way it eventually makes him go numb and allows him the liberty of leaving his heart far away from interfering in any decisions.

He sips at it - he can’t quite remember how many glasses the maid has refilled by now - until the buzzing sensation that he now welcomes can be felt at the back of his head, slowly but certainly infiltrating his senses.

There’s another knock on the door, and he fights to keep his voice clear as he calls out, asking who it is. The reply comes in a low tone, rather inaudible, but he can recognise the voice well. “Come in.”

The figure steps into the room, cloaked in long drab robes. “You look like the epitome of suspicion right now,” he comments, eyeing the man’s outfit. “So how is it going?”

“I believe that the one you have hired is aware of your identity,” the man states so matter-of-factly that he has to take some time to fully digest the weight of his words - or maybe it’s just the alcohol that’s beginning to slow his thinking.

“Even his boss didn’t know who I was,” he argues vehemently, his syllables beginning to slur together, “How is it possible that he knows who I am?”

“He has seen you more times than his boss has, I presume.”

He in a breath through his teeth. “Don’t you dare let this leak out to anyone else. I swear, if this gets out, it’s going to be a complete mess and-”

“Calm down, sir, you are drunk,” the man interjects smoothly. “I will not leak this information to anyone. According to him, he will make his decision before the week is up.”

“He will what?” he hisses, “Make his decision? So he’s going to rebel?”

“With all due respect, sir, he did not say that. He simply said he would have to make a decision.”

He places the glass of alcohol down so harshly that he’s surprised the delicate glass doesn’t shatter. “If he wasn’t going to rebel, he would already have completed the task a long time ago.” He shakes his head roughly, indicating for the man to exit the room. “Leave me be.”

And once again, he is enveloped in the dark, dreary silence of the room as he brings the wine glass to his lips.

I’m tired of acting.

It hurts. My heart feels like there’s a tornado ripping through it… But this pain is a necessary one.

Hurry up and finish your job, so I can see him gone.

“What happened to you?” Jungsoo’s face is written over with shocked horror, looking at the man standing before him streaked red in blood.

Heechul dismisses his question. “Hey.” His voice comes out tight, straitened. “I need to tell you something.”

Jungsoo quietens almost immediately, looking over at the man, and Heechul can feel his heart clang loudly in the constraints of his chest. It hurts.

And this time, he knows why his heart aches so badly, and yet he knows that he cannot stop it.

He supposes that sometimes, heartache is necessary.

He’s never felt it that much; but now that he’s let his walls crumble, he feels everything slam into him all at once. “It’s not going to be safe to stay here anymore,” the words leave his mouth all in a rush, and it’s never been so hard to speak clearly before, seeing the torn bewilderment begin to etch its way onto Jungsoo’s face, “I’ll let you go back to the life that you led, the life before we met.”

“I’ll go back and live with Donghae?” The question slips out of Jungsoo’s mouth with uncertainty, and his voice trembles when he speaks. “I can’t stay here anymore?”

“You just… live wherever you can.” He offers a tight-lipped smile, and it takes more willpower than he thought necessary to keep it from wavering. “Away from me.”

Away from you.

Jungsoo tries to read the expression on Heechul’s face, but it’s even harder than usual. Are they going to come? Are people going to come after you for being a traitor? Do you want to keep me safe from them?

“From now on,” Heechul exhales softly, and in his eyes Jungsoo can see the deep weariness, a haunting sleeplessness burdened by undecipherable troubles. “Ple