Warning(s): blood, cursing
Length: 1.2k

The bodies of their two friends are lying at the bottom of the ditch. One is alive. The other is dead.

Eunha is trying to rub the gunshot residue off her fingers, Chanyeol is trying to shovel dirt back into the ditch, Bitna is trying to stop shaking, and Jongsu is trying to get the car to start. The guy that’s still alive won’t stop thrashing at the bottom of the goddamned ditch, but there’s only one bullet left Eunha’s gun, and no one wants to climb down to beat him to death already. So he screams muffled screams through his gag, begging to some “God” that doesn’t hear. No one tells him that he was dead from the start. And most definitely, no one tells him that in this case, God and the man burying him are the same person—or at least that’s what Chanyeol says to get him stop crying.

The silence of a transmission that won’t work and a guy screaming through his gags is unbearable, so Jongsu promptly shatters it. “The car won’t start,” he announces, throwing his hands in the air as he walks back from the wrecked Coupe de Ville, “so we’re ed.” No one makes a move, and naturally, Jongsu screams: “We’re ed, you guys!”

Eunha wants to scoff.

Poor boy is only 19. He hasn’t even grown a stubble in his life, and his cheeks are still plump with baby fat. From what Eunha heard from the mouth he loved to run, he used to have a stutter. Never had a girlfriend, never travelled outside of the Korean peninsula, never even been on a plane. 19 years. That’s 228 months, and six of those has been spent with the likes of some small-time gang at the east side of Ansan—and in particularly unlucky fashion—with Chanyeol and Eunha. He’s out of his head, but he doesn’t know that, and it’s a little sad, a little unfortunate… But life is a game of chess, and sometimes you’re only a pawn.

“We’re not ed,” Chanyeol corrects through gritted teeth; he doesn’t even stop to drop his shovel. He glares at Jongsu through the sweaty tips of his bangs and scowls. “So shut up and help me bury these two.”

Jongsu stares back at Chanyeol. The latter, being years older, holds authority over him, but that doesn’t stop him from begging. “Please, Chanyeol!” Jongsu’s eyes are wide. “We should just run. Forget this and let’s make for the hills.”

“Oh yeah, and then what? You got a plan?” Eunha pipes up when she has given up on getting the black dust of gunpowder off her fingers. She strides over to where Jongsu is standing with Chanyeol and points down at the ditch. “And genius, if we leave him behind, they’ll find him, and he’ll tell them that we ‘made for the hills’ or whatever the that even means.”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol agrees, “you need to get your together. Unlike you, I have a plan, and we are sticking through it.”

“But—”

Chanyeol lets his arms