Kyungsoo and Jongin live in a time of contaminated air, of a corrupt government, crime and wars that seem nearly inevitable. However, their hearts were at peace. Kyungsoo’s dream was to walk hand in hand with Jongin on a road, if not completely polluted by bad manners and dirty rain. Despite all, as long as their hearts were threaded as one, there doesn’t seem to be anything else to notice.

But halt, to your surprise. Jongin’s the symbol of the Kim family, the explicit target that the Do family has tried for years to eliminate. And they know, one day, if they were to find a way to ready their dirty hands on a certain bull’s-eye, the wars would end for them and the Kims will go bankrupt, being exactly what the Dos’ ancestors had marked as their goal.

And there was a peaceful time Kyungsoo had acknowledged the loss of his own family, for the sake of his loved one, for the sake of justice and equity. And there was a time Kyungsoo had thought the war had ended, and a time that came to tell him that it hadn’t.

And soon enough, a time came to tell him what had to be done, the fate of the polluted road he and Jongin were to walk on.

“This is the end, Soo.” And exactly as he remembered it, Kyungsoo clenches his fist at the memory that’s threatening to make him burst.

“What is?” He remembers himself saying. Very worriedly too.

“Us.” Jongin croaked. “This is the end of us.”

“What do you mean?” Kyungsoo had responded, voice raised and brows knitted together.

“It’s either me or my family”, Jongin told him.
And there was not much left to be explained, for this was soon enough marked the final chapter of their spotless road.

Standing by their memories, Kyungsoo breaks a promise. He was told to stay away from this day, to pretend to not have known him, to hold pride for when the Do family wins the battle. But it doesn’t matter, he thinks. Because Jongin has broken whatever he had ever promised Kyungsoo. Be it to escape to the world outside, to escape the only air they knew of theft, crime, epidemics and a bloodthirsty appetite for fortune.

All Kyungsoo and Jongin had basically ever wanted was to be happy. And, they had realized, money was worth nothing of what they called true happiness. But nobody in their world had ever understood that beyond the pollution, the night sky was beautiful to watch, a peaceful time to count stars and laugh with the people you sincerely care about.

Today though, with Kyungsoo’s fists clenched and Jongin in the other room with a gun in his pocket, it’s a fact they have to face, for their happiness has been abolished.

And Jongin stumbles in at the very moment, handcuffs being removed, security camera installed and Kyungsoo on the other side of the glass wall to watch him.

They were told fifteen minutes, and the clock had already begun to tick.

But no words are spoken, no words are heard. And that’s enough for the both of them, for they could see each other at the last moment, no matter the broken promises, how cold it was and how much more clothing Jongin probably needed to stay warm.

The tears that rolled down Jongin’s cheeks looked like crystals. His eyes that were whitened by the hungry cold of the weather were locked unsteadily at their fingers with the wall between them. Kyungsoo watched as Jongin’s lips stretched into a thin, sad smile.

Jongin tapped the screen once, then twice and the third time louder. Kyungsoo still remembers what it represented, what it was for when they came knocking on each other’s doors. And Kyungsoo tried not to spill any tears, biting his lip; he tried as hard as he could to pull through. Jongin smiled very bitterly in response, because two knocks and one louder meant I love you.

Tonight, the Kim family is willing to sacrifice one, if not all. But tonight, two’s dreams are shattered. There was Jongin, with the gun in his pocket and Kyungsoo, on the other side of the wall shaking his head and begging him not to.

Don’t do it, his face reads. For me.

Jongin does not concede.

For the arrival of a bigger person,

for courage,

for his family and all the hope lost,

he reaches into his pocket.

Kyungsoo’s body crumbles to the floor on his knees, and his hands are smothered on the glass, leaving handprints, tears mustering up his hopeless eyes and spilling on the concrete.

Because I have to, Jongin mouths to him, another tear rolling down his cheek and both hands shaking.

His eyes are closed shut, but Kyungsoo’s in no authority, neither does he have the ability to break the wall, to tap the gun out of his troubled hands.

But Jongin already has the gun to his head.

Goodbye, 1, 2, 3.

Like the taps Kyungsoo hits on the glass screen, like the pain in his chest, throbbing and devouring his insides.

One, two, and the third time louder.

Jongin pulls the trigger.