It had started as a joke. No one had taken Yongguk seriously when he had suggested offhand that they settle their bets with a round of Russian roulette.

                The whole thing had started well past midnight, as the usual crowd began to filter out of the pool hall. Himchan had lit another cigarette, the second-to-last in his pack, tapping off the ash before he turned to Youngjae.

                “Pay up. I need to buy more cigs on the way home.”

                Youngjae had turned out his pockets with a sardonic smile, displaying only dust for the effort. “Sorry. Junhong, you got the money I won off you?”

                “Nah, man. I paid you with that shot of whiskey, didn’t I?”

                It had been a quick slip for the conversation to turn into an argument. Youngjae began snapping that it wasn’t enough money to cover the debt; Junhong had turned to Daehyun, calling a favor from a few weeks ago. Daehyun had rolled his eyes. Himchan had started snarling about how Youngjae shouldn’t have been betting about money he didn’t have. It probably would have devolved into a fistfight if Yongguk hadn’t interceded.

                “How about Russian roulette?”

                That comment had drawn the room into stillness. The only sound was the dull rap of Himchan’s fingers as he tapped away the ash. Youngjae had opened his mouth to protest, but Jongup interrupted him before he could. “You for real?”

                “I’ve always wanted to play.” Yongguk’s expression spread into a lazy, wicked smile. “What? You all too afraid to gamble for your lives?” In dead silence, he crossed the room, pulling down the shotgun that hung on the wall. The bullets rang like bells as they hit the surface of the bar, all but one that Yongguk picked up and set back into the chamber. He spun it, clicking one of the chambers into place. The sound echoed in the silence.

                Handing off the gun to Himchan, he spoke up again, that same lazy tone coloring his words. “Pick whoever you think owes you the most in debt. Shoot ‘em. We’ll see who survives it.”

                Himchan looked grim as he took the gun. The metal was cold to his touch, too heavy for him to handle lightly as he brought it up to level. The muzzle swept across the assembled six, finally settling on Youngjae. “Sorry.” The other male shrugged, leaning back against one of the pool tables. “But you made the bet.”

                The first shot rang out. Youngjae laughed as the powder exploded toward him, a sound of pure, shocked relief.

                The gun was handed off again. Youngjae took longer to decide, holding the gun with his fingertips like it was a poisonous snake. The muzzle rested first on Daehyun, then on Junhong. It wavered between the two of them before he finally settled it on Daehyun. There was a look of apology on his face as he leveled the gun, hands shaking as he pulled the trigger.

                The second shot cut through the silence like a knife. But when the smoke cleared, Daehyun was unharmed, a watery smile on his face.

                He took the gun next, flicking off the safety as he looked at the assembled faces. It took him only a moment to aim the gun at Yongguk.

                The third shot came as Daehyun dropped his gaze to the floor, too ashamed to look at the man whose life he chose to gamble with. He only realized that Yongguk was unharmed as a hand closed over his own, tugging the gun out of his grip.

                Yongguk hesitated as he looked at the assembled faces. He didn’t speak; no one had said anything since the game had started, and the silence felt too thick to break. Juggling the gun between his hands, Yongguk waited for the smoke to clear. Himchan had started to look almost impatient by the time that Yongguk lowered the gun, muzzle pointed for Junhong. The younger boy smiled sardonically, spreading his hands as he shrugged, forgiving.

                The fourth shot was the one to hit home. Junhong choked as the bullet hit him, lodging just under his collarbone, smirk slipping away. No one moved as he staggered forward, blood dripping down onto the emerald felt of the pool table.

                Looking away, Yongguk tossed the smoking gun down on the table. No one moved as Junhong sunk down to his knees, hands red with blood as he pulled them away from his chest. “Please—”

                The word came out as a rattle, a gasp. None of the other five so much as looked down at him as he died, caught with the abrupt consequences of their game. Himchan leaned forward, eyes transfixed on the smears of dark blood on the table.

                “Well then.” His voice was low and raspy, digging out his last cigarette. “I guess that settles it, doesn’t it?”