“What are we doing?”

“Getting out,” Heechul hisses back, deftly slipping up the metal rungs of the ladder, hearing the target lagging behind slightly. He throws the trapdoor open, wincing slightly as too-bright light hits his line of vision. “Hurry up.”

“Why are you taking me with you?” A genuine query from Jungsoo almost makes him pause and contemplate as to why he isn’t straight out killing the target, but it ends with him shaking his head with a derisive scoff.

“Are you an idiot? Why would I kill you in another assassin’s house?” The marble floor is cool to his bare feet, and he moves towards the French doors leading to the balcony, ignoring the faint streaks of red that his opened gash leaves on the pale mottle.

Jungsoo shrugs, following him with a surprising quickness. “Sorry. I don’t really know how this whole assassination thing works.”

“You don’t need to know,” he mutters, “You’ll be dead soon.”

Jungsoo goes quiet, trailing behind him as he steps out into the calming wind, the sound of birds singing cutting through the lucid currents of air as the spring sunlight grazes their skin.

“It’s kind of chilly still.” Jungsoo shudders as the wind blows a little stronger.

Heechul chooses to ignore the man, instead quickening his pace as he leaps over the balcony fence, his palms pressed against the smooth ivory paint that coats it. He hears Jungsoo scrambling behind him, but he doesn’t bother turning back; rich or whatever, the man should be able to leap over a ing fence.

“When are you going to kill me?” Jungsoo runs to catch up with his long stride.

Annoying. His voice is a cool, threatening monotone. “When I can.”

“Can’t you do it now?”

Idiot. “Do I look like I can publicly kill you when we’re walking down a row of houses in broad daylight?” His respond comes quick, and Jungsoo - thankfully - shuts up after that. “Hurry up.”

“You haven’t even told me where we’re going.”

He lets a sigh escape his lips; there’s the sound of shoes scuffing against concrete, and he spins around like a bolt of black lightning, his pale hand stretching out and grabbing Jungsoo by the throat. The man lets out a strangled choke, writhing for a few seconds before going limp. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“You know, away from a killer,” Jungsoo replies once he’s gotten enough breath back, “I kind of despise you, if you realised.”

“Yeah.” His eyes darken. “I do realise.”

“Let me go home.” Jungsoo’s voice is raw with desperation. “I know my family is gone, but I still have my friends. My best friend, he’ll be looking for me. It’ll be all over the news by now.”

“And what do you want me to ing do about it? This is my job.” Heechul’s words are straightforward, cynical, and painfully true.

“Why didn’t you let the other man kill me then, if you’re so concerned over ending my life?” A tone of rebellion still lingers in Jungsoo’s voice, but he doesn’t try to run again. “He would’ve completed your job for you.”

He’s… Really dumb for someone supposedly so well-educated. “If he were to kill you, I wouldn’t have the rights to claim the reward. Don’t flatter yourself too much, I’m not protecting you against others or anything because you’re satisfying to kill, I just need to keep their hands off so I can get the reward to myself.”

“So you’re after me for the reward that killing me will bring? Someone wants me dead?”

“Yeah.”

“How about I pay you and you let me go?”

This causes Heechul to halt, his dark eyes alight, partially due to the sun’s rays and partially due to the hot anger in them. “Don’t ever say that to me, you disgusting low-life. Have you no sense of honour?”

“Not when it comes to saving my life, no,” Jungsoo’s reply is swift, and Heechul - grudgingly - admits that it kind of makes sense.

He takes to the side pavements, the narrower paths swathed in the familiarity that shadows offer, the winding spaces away from overly-prying, meaninglessly curious gazes. He keeps going until his feet treads upon recognisable uneven roads, pebbled pavements, until he goes past cheerful bakeries and unlit street lamps.

He hears Jungsoo’s breath. A sharp intake. “This is my house,” the whisper is barely audible in the chatter of other blurred, insignificant faces surrounding them. “This is the area where I live in. Did you really-” And he looks at Heechul, and his eyes are so full of hope and desperation they’re practically gleaming. “- Did you bring me back?”

And all his hopes are rudely shattered as Heechul yanks him ahead roughly, past the tall elegant white buildings stamped across the land, turning into a path where solitude hung a little more heavily. “Nice try.” His voice is rough, scornful. “But no.”

The house right at the end, curtains drawn firmly across the minimal windows and the house painted a rather unremarkable shade. A soft click indicates the unlocking of the door, and Heechul walks in, barely waiting for Jungsoo to enter before slamming and locking the door behind him.

He tunes out Jungsoo’s complaining about his sore feet, observing himself in the mirror; his sable outfit is mostly still intact, save from a few tears and droplets of dried dark red. His feet, well acclimated to harsher situations than walking on roads, are fine, but he notes with irritation t