"The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. 
Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?"

 - Edgar Allan Poe

Dalnim

Science says, death is a permanent cessation of all vital functions.

But that's not all there is to dying.

People say when you die, you don't realize you're dying.

They say when you die, time slows down and you feel content.

They say when you die, all the pain is gone and you feel at peace.

I would know. I've died before.

People lie.

As I die this time, it is abrupt.

It is painful and loud and it is war.

It is red and black.

And I feel every cell in my body ceasing.

I can't breath, I can't move.

All I can do is stare.

They say when you die, all memories play in the back of your mind.

They are right.

I remember sunshine in a cloudy sky; I remember warm booze on warmer nights; I remember red on innocent white; I remember the brightest smiles in the darkest nights.

I suffocate.

I am dead.

How come I am still alive?

The painful sensation is quicker than the deafening sound ripping through the silence.

His knees hurt as he fell to the gravelly ground, but the pain didn't matter.

The only thing that mattered to him was that she wasn't hurt.

The screams surrounding him hit his ear drums only dulled and far, far away.

Everything seemed so still, so slow.

So peaceful.

She was safe.

The weight of this world drained from his body with every breath. He was as light as a feather, and like a feather, he floated to the ground, his face meeting the cold stone.

Why didn't it hurt? He didn't care.

Breathing became hard, but it left him feeling lightheaded. A feeling he could get used to.

As he looked up, he saw her. She hovered over him clutching his hand to her chest, her lips moving, but he couldn't understand a word she was saying.

He looked down on himself and saw a pair of hands pressing down on his own chest. The hands and his shirt were covered in red.

Good, he thought. Red is the color of love.

He blinked from the hands back to the girl, who had moved behind him and bedded his head in her lap. She was pretty, but the tears running down her cheeks flawed her face. It didn't suit her.

“Stop crying” he smiled up at her, his voice sounding raspy from the exhaustion of his body as the life was being drained from him with every drop of blood pulsing from the wound in his chest from every shaking breath he took. “You look ugly when you cry.”

“Shut up!” she sobbed, gently brushing his bangs out of his face. “Save your energy. The ambulance is going to be here soon.”

He turned his head a little, facing the other person kneeling next to him. His eyes were filled with tears as well as he tried to stop the bleeding, whispering “Don't you dare die on us. Don't you dare” over and over again.

He only chuckled, closing his eyes as he did so. He knew well enough that it was too late. The oxygen supply got thinner by the second, and he was fighting hard against unconsciousness. He couldn't leave quite yet. He needed to see them a bit longer.

“Yah, I said don't cry” he scoffed. “You won't even listen to me when I'm dying, huh?” A low chuckle built in his chest, but it came out as a gurgle as the blood slowly started to fill his lungs, and he couldn't hold back coughing. Blood accumulated in the corner of his mouth, and then trickled narrowly down his chin.

His eyelids became heavy, like he had been running for ages. Tiredness washed over him and he felt the darkness closing in.

“It's time huh?” he whispers, his eyes blankly staring up into her face, and tears began stinging in the back of his eyes.

How bothersome, he thought. Tears.

He chose to ignore her protest, and instead, his lips stretched into one last lopsided grin.

“Yoon Dasom, hm?” he smiled, trying to lift his hand up to her face, but the strength left him halfway, causing it to drop right back onto his chest.

She grabbed it softly, moving it up to her face and placing it at her cheek.

“What a pretty name for a beautiful woman. I'm glad that I met you, Dasom-ah.”

“Shut up” she tried lamely, bottom lip trembling hard as she tried fighting against her choking sobs.

“You know...you still owe me that kiss. It's been...it's been so many years and I....I think I've earned it now, haven't I? Protecting you again like...like a knight in shining armor.”

There's no more strength left to breathe. No more air in his lungs.

I'm so sleepy, he thought. I want to just...close my eyes and...

Soft lips brushed over his, and his heart skipped a beat for the last time. His eyes fluttered shut, and his lips formed a smile of content.

Peaceful.

“Thanks.”

The last whiff of air escaped through his parted lips as he whispered his last word, and his head lulled to the side as the life in his eyes left.

Jung Hoseok died in Dasom's arms, but she was the one left feeling dead inside.

Jungkook

Jungkook watched the whole scene like a passerby.

When Hoseok's body limped, Dasom's sobs were heartbreaking, and he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and let her cry into his chest -

but the words of the man with the dark aura and the ing gun at the ready kept spinning in his head like a merry-go-around.

Dasom was so sincere, how could she ever harm someone? She lost her family in a tragedy, leaving her scarred and broken – he would know because he's seen her cry.

Then again – what did he know about her beside that?

Nothing.

That word kept repeating in his mind like a destructive mantra.

He knew nothing.

He felt nothing.

Jungkook and Dasom – nothing.

From thee corner of his consciousness, he saw her hunching over her friend – who she had been lying about – crying and sobbing miserably.

Another man knelt next to her, tears stained his face as well and his white dress shirt was completely covered in blood. He had seen him before as well. He was in Dasom's room after Jungkook had kissed her.

Who was he? He knew nothing.

Blood. Blood everywhere. A pool of blood underneath Hoseok.

Dead.

Images of a dead body in a backstreet flashed before his eyes. The next picture was a drunk Dasom standing in front of him just after everything happened. Meeting Dasom with red smeared across her face. Their professor found dead. Students spreading rumors that it was Dasom.

Jungkook gagged as everything clicked together.

It was her. Them. These people who were in the room with him.

A blood-curdling scream pulled him out of his string of thoughts, and he snapped his head up to find Dasom on her legs. Her knees were wobbly – Jungkook could tell from meters away – but her eyes were steady as she fixed the man who had just shot Hoseok.

“You” she growled, and every hair on Jungkook's body stood up. Never had he seen her like this. Never had he seen anything like this in the first place.

From the corner of his eyes, Jungkook noticed a movement – the small, skinny boy with the rash of light blonde hair used the moment of distraction to discretely exit the building. Clever. Jungkook should do that too – but the scene in front of him got him transfixed.

The other one, who had been by Hoseok's side until now, softly brushed his hand over his friend's face, closing his eyes for eternity. He then got up to stand by Dasom's side, his hands balled into tight fists.

“You monster!” Dasom spat, her petite hand tightening strongly around the silver gun in her grip.

Shrill laughter cut through the otherwise silent warehouse, sending shivers down Jungkook's spine. He had no clue what had turned this man into this insane monstrosity, but the way he brushed killing his friend off his shoulder like he was a spec of dust on his expensive jacket – Jungkook for once wasn't eager to find out what had happened.

“Collateral damage, Dalnim” he purred, tilting his head to the side. “Someone who is dumb enough to take a bullet for someone as worthless as the dirt he's standing on” he continued, jerking his chin in Jungkook's direction and pulling the attention on him for a second. “is as worthless and doesn't deserve to live.”

Just a second later, Dasom had crossed the space in between him and the man in black, landing a good punch in his face. A cracking sound echoed through the silence – whether it was his nose or her hand, Jungkook couldn't tell.

“You piece of !” Dasom yelled, her voice shrill with anger. She another punch, and Jungkook noticed that the brown haired man had turned a blind eye, not wanting to witness what was going down.

Instead, he turned his sad eyes on Jungkook and came in his direction.

Was he going to kill him now? Take vengeance because he was the reason his friend died?

He didn't care anymore. He was tired of running all his life.

“Are you alright?” the man sniffled as he crouched down in front of him, but Jungkook remained motionless.

A cry of pain, which definitely belonged to Dasom, rang in his ears. Was she hurt? Why did he care? Everything seemed senseless.

Jungkook only hoped dying wouldn't be as painful as he had always imagined it.

On the other hand, he'd deserve a painful death for all the weight he had put on his mother's shoulders. For being a friend.

For putting his very trust into the wrong person.

Dasom didn't care about him. He felt nothing.

“I don't want you to witness this, buddy” the other said, a small smile trying to cover up the pain in his eyes.

Jungkook closed his eyes and took a breath, ready to meet his fate.

A painful knock on the back of his head broke the well, and the darkness caved in on him, the last picture in his mind being Dasom breathing heavily, her clothes covered in blood and the skin over her knuckles burst.

Dalnim

White rage ran through Dalnim's veins, replacing every drop of blood with demanding vengeance.

Adrenaline had taken over her body a while ago, and though her face was swollen and her lip burst from the hits she had received, there was no way she would stop until it was done.

Her attentive eyes scanned Namjoon's every move, her fists raised to her face in defense as she dodged another punch flying in her face.

As she shot back up, she landed another direct hit in his face, and she could feel the skin on his lips burst under the force of her fist. Blood ran down Namjoon's face and his right arm hung at his side limply, and he finally resembled the monster he was.

“Oh, c'mon, Dal. You can do better than that!” he grinned, the blood from his lips in bliss. “Say, did you even love Hoseok? I thought you had a thing with my cousin. And that nobody over there. Don't tell me you've been -”

Another punch; another broken bone in Namjoon's face.

Dalnim grabbed him by the roots of his hair, pulling him so close she felt his hot breath on her neck, and heard him grunt in pain with delight as she kneed him into his stomach.

“Don't you dare talk about them.” Another kick. “Don't!” Another kick. “DON'T!”

As she let him go, he fell to his knees, grinning up to her. The blood smeared all across his face, whether it was his or her own, she didn't know, made him appear like a nightmare come to flesh.

“Do it, Dalnim. Kill me, I dare you” he smirked as she towered over him, breathing heavily.

She couldn't stand holding his glare for long, the images of Hoseok dying too vivid in her mind. Dalnim looked away, biting her lip to keep herself from crying.

Not now. Not in front of him. She wouldn't grant him this satisfaction.

“You see, Dal, this is not my fault” Namjoon sighed, slowly getting up on his feet again. “Your job was to kill that boy. And what did you do? You played friends and cried at his shoulder like a baby when you told him what had happened to your family. You fell in love with him, you couldn't kill him. Now Hoseok's dead.”

He paused for a second, then he grabbed her chin painfully and forced her to look at him. His touch alone made her want to throw up, but his words made her wish she was dead.

“His blood is on your hands. Now live with the consequences, Yoon Dasom” he sneered, brushing his thumb over her bottom lip.

“Don't call me that” she whispered dangerously, her fingers, though slipper