Jongwoon remained silent as Sungmin clung onto his back and Sungmin felt his heart sink a little. It wasn't like they were exclusive to each other. It was more of a fling, a one night stand. Sungmin wasn't going to promise Jongwoon his heart, but he had to admit that a small part already belonged to the photographer and he wanted to believe that he mattered to Jongwoon as well. Sungmin let his hands slowly trail down Jongwoon's stomach and he felt the taller man take in a sharp breath. If nothing else, the photographer desired him and he was willing to let Sungmin stay in his home, but what Sungmin couldn't figure out was what Jongwoon got out of it. If the latter wasn't going to demand a relationship or money, why would he be so willing to let Sungmin stay?

“Jongwoon,” Sungmin purred. “Don't just leave me like this.”

Jongwoon clasped onto Sungmin's hands with his own when the assassin began fiddling with his belt buckle. 

“We can't do this now,” he groaned hoarsely, but Sungmin felt Jongwoon's body react to his touch. Sungmin knew he could get Jongwoon to bend to his will and he was oh so tempted to display the control he had over the docile photographer. 

Sungmin gently his hands back up Jongwoon's chest and pressed his body closer until he could feel the heat rise from Jongwoon's back. “Stay.”

Jongwoon's knees buckled, but Sungmin maintained his hold as they both sank to the floor slowly. Sungmin pressed a few kisses in between Jongwoon's shoulder blades and he could feel the photographer's heart pound through the thin material of his dress shirt. Sungmin fisted his hands in Jongwoon's shirt and pulled him closer, but then he felt something warm and wet on his hands. Sungmin retracted his hands and looked down at them in alarm, it was clear liquid, he had half expected it to be blood, but his hands were covered in tears. Jongwoon's tears. 

Sungmin felt his heart pull painfully and he had never been burdened with so much dread and guilt in his life. He had crushed a perfectly innocent person. He felt like a monster. And it was even more ed up that Sungmin had expected his hands to be covered in blood. He would have been able to handle blood. Taking lives was second nature to him. Manipulating people and killing on order was normal for him, but the minute real emotions were involved Sungmin felt lost. He felt like he was falling into a dark abyss, there would be no light or salvation for him, he was already too far gone. Sungmin knew he shouldn't have dragged Jongwoon down into the dark with him, but the photographer's light was just so irresistible. Jongwoon was willing to give Sungmin so much, but Sungmin should have never succumbed to his own desires. Getting a taste of warmth left an insatiable hole in Sungmin's soul and he craved more. He should have left good enough alone. He should have left the minute he woke up. He should have done so many things differently, but he knew it was futile. His heart had finally settled and it had decided on the gentle, quivering mess that was sobbing silently before him. Sungmin cursed under his breath. Who told his heart that it was allowed to take flight? He had a weakness now and it was a raven-haired, golden-skinned photographer with a husky voice. Sungmin clenched his fists, he would never be the “best” again, because he was no longer fearless. The fear of being torn away from Jongwoon would hold him back during missions. 

Sungmin let out a sigh and just stared at Jongwoon's back. He watched as the latter wordlessly wiped his eyes and swallowed tiny hiccups. His heart ached with every shudder of Jongwoon's thin shoulders. Sungmin wanted to pull Jongwoon's body flush against his own. He wanted to turn the other man around so that he faced him. He wanted to kiss away Jongwoon's salty tears, but he was frozen in place. Helpless and lost. 

“Jongwoon-ah?” Sungmin asked hesitantly and the photographer held his breath trying to still his tears.

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