Now; baekyeol (4/5)

[aprilclash]

<< part 3

Now

The house was a mess.

What was once a sanctuary of order and style, branded furniture, elegant colours, wide, hollow spaces, had been devastated by that tornado that Baekhyun knew Chanyeol’s rage was. The floor was covered in bills, Chanyeol’s jacket thrown carelessly on the table and one bottle of soju had fallen, its content seeping spilled on the expensive parquet.

Chanyeol had owned the place for months, ad not even once his personality had managed to seep in the flat, settling between those four walls. It had taken Baekhyun, like always, for Chanyeol to finally snap and redecorate the house with his own fury, painting months of anticipation and fear and love in the shining interiors.

From a crack in the bathroom door, Baekhyun caught a glimpse of broken mirror, a little blood smeared on the cracks. From what he had seen, the strangers whom Chanyeol had brought home hadn’t gone beyond the living room.

He recognized the signs of a good, rough fuck on the leather couch, and he internally thanked himself for having always refused to have sex on that couch, because he didn’t need another reason to be angry at his lover, right now.

Chanyeol stood in the bedroom, like a god of destruction at the centre of the world, and he pointed the barrel of the gun towards Baekhyun when he heard his soft footsteps.

His eyes softened, the fire of danger in them fading away and leaving behind himself a faint trail of scattered ashes when he recognized Baekhyun, some sort of relief flooding his mouth like he wanted to say something, but nothing left his lips in the end. Baekhyun didn’t even know who he was looking at, if Chanyeol or himself, because he could read in Chanyeol’s face the same struggle that had blustered in his heart.

This night, he thought, this night is stretching out to the infinite, so many things had happened tonight, but what rests of the darkness is for us to own. And Chanyeol had missed him, from the tremor in his hands to the way he was trying not to bit his lips when he looked at Baekhyun’s mouth, Chanyeol wanted and needed him and Baekhyun felt like leaving everything to him. He’d let Chanyeol help him forget, for now.

He didn’t resist when big hands, fast, skilful hands, tossed him around, making him end on the bed.
He hoped his expression, the way his eyes were pleading and inviting, would be enough for Chanyeol.

His breath, their breaths, for he could feel Chanyeol’s pulse from the way they were all over each other, every puff of air on his exposed throat, stilled. Chanyeol’s hands, so efficient on cold fire weapons, but usually clumsy and awkward when dealing with buttons and zips, for once froze on the white fabric of the shirt not in hesitancy, but in reverence. None of them dared exhale a breath as time stopped moving for a moment that was only theirs, the edge of a precipice that neither of them wanted to fall into, not knowing what was laying at the bottom, how long they would fall.

Chanyeol popped the first button out of the eyelet, and the time that was crystallized came back to them in one single rush of adrenaline that left both of the boys stunned and stupefied.

Before Baekhyun knew it, he had laced his arms around Chanyeol’s neck, Chanyeol had latched himself onto Baekhyun, and they were moving, rolling, gripping and thrusting against each other like impatient teenagers. The satin sheets were slippery under their bodies, and no matter how much Baekhyun scrabbled for a place to grasp and just hold on, as Chanyeol’s assault became even more primal and violent, his hand couldn’t find a safe hold, his legs falling open on their own.

He screamed out of a kiss when Chanyeol touched him between his thighs, and they both were startled by a dull sound. Chanyeol’s touch vanished from his body, and Baekhyun could only guess he went to find the source of the rumour.

His breath hitched when Chanyeol stood up, the gun seeming almost normal in his big hands, when Baekhyun knew too well of his massive size having taken it in his own hand once.

Everything fell upon him in a second. The gun, Minho, Xiao Han, Lu Han, the plan, the gun, the gun in Chanyeol’s hands, and Chanyeol must have noticed something was off because he looked at Baekhyun, like he was really seeing him for the first time that night, and then he lowered the weapon to Baekhyun’s mouth.

Baekhyun didn’t want to turn his head, from the hypnotic, strangely alluring sight of the gun in front of his face. He didn’t want it but his mind still screamed at him not to show this kind of weakness in front of Chanyeol, tuck it away on your soul, Byun Baekhyun, your job is to find weaknesses without showing yours.

It was dangerous, he knew, to lose himself in front of someone else, the proudest side of him refused to give Chanyeol that kind of leverage over himself.

When he tried to shake his face away from the barrel Chanyeol’s finger fell on his neck, his nails lingering purposefully on his nape, light enough to make the hair at the base of his neck stand up with a shiver, firm enough to make him feel the implicit order to stay still. Chanyeol was all over him, his body impending on Baekhyun and pinning him to the bed, his hand keeping him trapped, and Baekhyun admitted that he was both nervous and immensely turned on by the sudden assumption of control.

For a moment he wondered what this new, confident Chanyeol would have done if Baekhyun would have refused to obey him, and in the slight moment of hesitation Chanyeol’s hold on him grew tighter, a warning in his eyes, and that was all it take for him to surrender completely.

He felt docile, for once, his heart was still beating loudly but the anxiousness, the impending tales of the panic attack receded, fading in the background when he opened his mouth to lick the rifle. Chanyeol sustained his head, long fingers flexed on his neck, kindly but firmly leading him towards the weapon, and Baekhyun closed his eyes in shame at the look of surprised wonder on the face of his lover as he felt the sharp taste of metal hit the roof of his mouth.

When Chanyeol rubbed the barrel between his legs, three fingers deep in Baekhyun’s throat, a wave of searing pleasure shocked his body, the shame only adding more torturous warmth to his body already on the precipice. He wanted to ask, to scream, to beg or to moan, but he wasn’t able to produce any sound. He almost cried when Chanyeol put the gun away.

Pleasure tickled and tore at his conscience, begging to be let free, but Baekhyun resisted as much as he could. He wanted to stay with Chanyeol, he wanted Chanyeol so much that even the burn of orgasm had to wait for them to be together. But he couldn’t wait forever, and when Chanyeol wanted to go slow and careful he wanted fast and mind-blowing. This won’t do, this won’t do.

He used all of his strength to revert their positions, and only when he finally found himself on top of Chanyeol’s hands on his chest to find his balance and legs on his sides, drowning in the mattress, did he get the leverage, the friction, the control he wanted. He could almost see the final line, his to reach and own, he had waited too long for this, and in the hysteric, desperate slide up and down on Chanyeol’s girth he didn’t even realize that Chanyeol had come as well. He only felt the pleasure, all the anticipation, the fire in his loins, overtaking his limbs like poison, the dots connecting one by one before everything burst and exploded, leaving silence and darkness in his trail.

Chanyeol tucked Baekhyun’s limp body under the overs, stopping only to sweep the dark, sweaty fringe out of his eyes and making Baekhyun’s nose scrunch up. Baekhyun was a nervous sleeper, always closing his arms around the pillow in a death hold and trying to burrow himself in the mattress, as if he wanted to become one with the bed. Not even during sleep did the tension leave the set of his shoulder, and no matter how many times Chanyeol tried to smoothen the frowning lines in Baekhyun’s face with his fingers, the only response he got was a nervous whimper and sometimes some mumbled sounds.

This time, though, Baekhyun’s face looked more than conflicted. He looked exhausted. Chanyeol too, was exhausted. His brain had finally caught up with their previous fight, and now that he had somehow sobered up, he knew what he had to do.

He threw a last glance at Baekhyun’s pale face before grabbing the gun, his telephone and a coat, and he left the house. It was too early for the sun to rise, but the sky was starting to change its colours, pitch black fading into the deepest and velvety blue, the farthest stars disappearing in the night.

Soon, Chanyeol thought, soon it'll be morning, I have to do it now.

He fished the phone out of his pocket, scanning the names on the screen, and stopping at a particular name. He silently willed the other man to answer before pressing the dial button.
The phone rung only three times, before a sleepy voice answered.

“Do you fucking know what times is it?”

“Did I wake you up? Did you go to bed at all?”

The other person laughed, but it was a tired laugh.

“I was working,” he answered, and through the static Chanyeol could hear the sound of fingers flying over a computer keyboard at an almost impossible pace.

The conversation stalled in a long, awkward moment of silence, neither of the two knew what to say.
Chanyeol gulped, trying to find a way to ask what he wanted to ask, but the voice on the other side of the telephone spoke before he had the courage to do it himself.

“I saw Baekhyun, tonight, is he” and there was concern and hesitation in his voice, “is he alright now?”

Chanyeol bit his lip, his head unconsciously turning toward his building, still visible from where he was, where he imagined Baekhyun to lay in bed, still asleep.

“I think he’s fine, but… You know what happened, right?”

“He and Choi?” the response was followed by a sour laugh, “Is there anyone who doesn’t know, now? You know how fast this kind of news can travel.”

Chanyeol mentally cursed, hoping he could make it in time, “I’ll do it today, just tell me where to go.”

He waited for an answer, that came in form of a sigh.

“I can’t, Chanyeol, they’re looking for me… I am too exposed right now, if I make a mistake…”

Chanyeol’s voice was laced with desperation, as he begged, “If I don’t do it now, I’ll lose Baekhyun, forever. The second Choi Minho put his hands on him it’s over. He’ll take him far away, where neither me or you can reach him anymore, and I can’t let that happen.”

When he didn’t receive a response, he went on.

“I promised you I would’ve done it if you helped me find Baekhyun, and you did it. Now let me repay the favour, it’s the only way I have to save Baekhyun.”

“Look, Chanyeol, you know I want to help you, but not even I know who he is yet. That man is a fucking snake, every time I think I’ve finally found him he disappears like a ghost, he’s driving me crazy.”

“There must be something you can do…”

Chanyeol’s voice died in a whisper, but the quietness on the other side of the phone let him hope.

“I can help you get to the last floor, where he should be. I can do no more than this, I fear. Chanyeol, this is important. That man is powerful, he has managed to avoid every attempt of assassination in the last years, and I’ve never seen such a careful person in my life, everything in my mind screams that you’ll end up in a trap, so please, please, don’t go.”

“You know I have to, Baekhyun it’s everything I want, and if I kill Lu we’ll be able to flee the country, no one will hunt us.”

“I know but, just be careful. And remember, he is a snake, he’ll try to deceive you. Kill him, and leave as fast as you can.”

“Thank you”, he said, the wind shaking away his last words.

The night was coming to an end, and if he raised his head he could see the sky, painted with the first colours of dawn. Glimmers of gold and orange could be seen at east, and the glass giants around him reflected the feast of endless shades for everyone to see, though Chanyeol doubted there still was someone around at that time of transition, between tonight and tomorrow.

Lu Corporation’s skyscraper stood, the tallest of them all, the first rays of sunlight hitting his windows and making it shine bright like a lighthouse in the middle of the district. Chanyeol put his phone away, the familiar voice still sure and firm in his head. He followed the instructions and went for the elevator at the back, remembering, not with a hint of amusement, how many times Kris had scolded him for never taking the back door instead of the principal one.

Because the back door doesn’t let me pass in front of the club, and I can’t see Baekhyun, would have been the best answer, but he had never given it to Kris, fearing the other man could really get too fed up with him, finally shooting him to shut his trap. He was really sorry for Kris, the man had been a good friend for him in the end, but he was ready to do everything. If Kris tried to save Lu Chanyeol had to kill him too.

“Don’t worry about Kris,” he played the previous phone call in is mind, again and again, “he's left the building to do something. Just worry about Lu, just kill him Chanyeol.”

Thanks to the useful insight he had got, getting past the complicated security system was as easy as breathing, and soon, too soon, Chanyeol found himself in front of the giant pool, the gentle voice announcing the last floor, exactly where, unknowingly to him, Baekhyun had stood just a few hours ago, when the night was just about to start. That single night had lasted forever, seen so many things happen under its cold stare, but finally the sun was rising, glorious, Chanyeol could see the red globe slowly making his way out of the horizon, colouring the city with pink hues.

His hands nervously clammed on the gun, and he willed himself to relax, sweating could only lessen his precision. He reached the pool house, and let himself in.

Lu Han raised his head from the shojo manga he was reading, meeting the dumbfounded stare of a very confused Chanyeol.

“Chanyeol,” his eyes flickered to the gun the boy was nervously holding in his hand, “I wasn’t expecting you.” So soon, his mind supplied.

Chanyeol kept looking at him, at a loss of words.

He really wasn’t expecting Chanyeol, not so soon, it had only been a few hours since he had sent Baekhyun away. Sure, he wanted to have a chat with the boy, but possibly nothing that involved guns and his future departure.

His only luck was that Chanyeol had recognized him, and he was now looking like a lost child, ready to burst in tears. Lu Han could almost see the gears in Chanyeol’s head, spinning fast in the lost cause of trying to give a sense at Lu Han’s presence in the hiding place of the boss.

He stood up and tried moved towards Chanyeol. He had no plan, just mere improvisation and instinct kicking in, his heart pumping adrenaline in his system. He could already feel the rush of excitement in his veins, like an electric shock along his spine. He straightened, forcing his face to relax so that his smile appeared more natural and carefree.

One of the pro of having been Xiao Han for so long was that falling in careless was simpler than breathe, his mind easily wrapping itself around the expressions and the quirks of the young whore he had created a few years ago.

He smiled at Chanyeol, batting his eyelashes and looking at him expectantly, like he was waiting for an answer. Chanyeol’s response was a gun pointed towards Lu Han’s face, his eyes crossing a little to keep the barrel in focus.

“Where is he?”

Chanyeol’s voice was nervous, the arrogant tone he had tried to assume failing to hide the nervousness, the uncertainness. Chanyeol was scared, and only the habit instilled by the strict training he had received from Kris kept him from looking around, franticly scanning the room like he was waiting to see someone jumping around from behind the bed to kill him.

Lu Han forced himself not to snicker at the mental image. Chanyeol was already enough on the edge, maybe it was better not upset him anymore.

“Answer me!”

This time the gun was lowered, the goal Lu Han’s beating heart. Lu Han could feel it was drumming furiously, the sound of his own fear filling his mind, and his life had never been more I danger. After years of hiding, of plotting and deceiving, he was now risking to die from the nervousness of one of his own killers, and the man didn’t even know his true identity.

“Chanyeol, you’re scaring me,” he pleaded, lowering his head to give more of the puppy effect, “you can see with your own eyes that we’re the only ones in the room, please put the gun away.”

The hand holding the gun was starting to tremble, as Chanyeol’s eyes grew even bigger.

“But he said…”

Something snapped in Lu Han. This was it, this was the moment he was waiting for. He had looked for this man for all of the previous months, closing the circle around him, drawing closer and closer, but just like a snake, the spy had always been able to elude his hold. Every time he thought he had it in his hands, he only remained with a handful of emptiness. And now the solution was just outside his reach, in the head of a guy who was trying to kill him, in his foolish babbles.

“He said Lu would be here, and I…”

Lu Han smiled, he knew what he had to do, the solution shone in his mind, clear as the sun that had currently risen from the darkness, bringing the new day with him.

He closed the distance between him and Chanyeol until the gun pressed against the heart, feeling the cold of the metal through the soft wool of his sweater, and he supressed the shiver that run on his back at the thought of how dangerous he could make this game become.

In his life, he had always had a backup plan, some sort of insurance. He was the kind of person who plotted everything in his life, destroying with chirurgical precision even the littlest speck of uncertainty, the variables of danger in his perfect web. Lu Han loathed to play with destiny, he had cheated fate too many times for it to be lenient towards his case, but this time, just this time, he was in the mood for gambling with his life.

He smiled at Chanyeol.

“Well, I’m here.”

Chanyeol wavered, his breath itching, and the gun pushed forward, cutting Lu Han’s breath.

He looked at the desperation in Chanyeol’s eyes, the raw need, the fear. No matter how difficult it got, he still was the best at playing with people’s heart. He made a step forward, and Chanyeol stepped behind, biting his lips and looking away. He was shaking, probably trying to find a line that connected the dots, wrapping his mind around the fact that Xiao Han was in fact Lu Han. His reaction was the opposite of Baekhyun, where the other boy had immediately understood an accepted the fact, it seemed like Chanyeol couldn’t just conciliate that Xiao Han and Lu Han were just two names for the same person.

“Don’t you believe me, Chanyeol? Come on, who got you the job? Did you really think that a simple whore was able to hire you, like this?”

He snapped his fingers, startling Chanyeol.

“You’re lying, you… You’re Baekhyun’s best friend.”

“I lie a lot and I’m a wonderful actor.”

Chanyeol had receded so much his back was now touching the wall, and though the gun was still pressing on Lu Han’s ribcage it didn’t seem like he was going to shot him. Lu Han pushed his luck.

“Come on,” he said, taking Chanyeol’s wrist in his hand.

It could've been so simple to just wrestle the gun out of his hold with his hands, but he knew Chanyeol was kind of a fighter. Every sudden movement could pull him out of his stupor, and Lu Han was well aware that in a close-up fight, hand to hand, Chanyeol’ survival instincts would kick in. They weren’t that different in size, but Chanyeol had better reflexes than him. Besides, he couldn’t really kill Baekhyun’s beloved one now, or he could? He didn’t really care that much about Baekhyun, not at the point to risk his life like this.

No, Lu Han, stay focused. He has something you’ve been desperately seeking. You need him alive as much as Baekhyun does.

“Come on,” he repeated, “I’m here, helpless and disarmed.”

Chanyeol didn’t even try to struggle free from his hold, he let his hand be dragged like a doll, towards Lu Han’s face. Lu Han made sure that the gun was pointing exactly at his forehead.
His hand caressed Chanyeol’s finger, the one that lied against the trigger.

“Didn’t you come here to kill me, Yeol? Pull the trigger and let’s end this, forever.”

Chanyeol trembled, breath caught in his throat. He mumbled something unintelligible, but Lu Han couldn’t hear it over the shattering silence. His own destiny was on the table.

He closed his eyes, and shouted.

“DO IT!”

“I CAN’T!”

He waited for a shot that didn’t come, the only sound was the dull, loud sound of the gun connecting with the ground. When he opened his eyes, as he was expecting, Chanyeol was crying. The big baby.

“Why did it have to be you? I can’t…” he sniffed, the words trapped in his mouth, “How can I possibly kill a friend of Baekhyun, you idiot?”

Lu Han resisted the urge to slide on the ground and hug his knees, choosing to pick the gun from the ground and put the safety on before one of them got badly hurt. Only then he let himself fall in front of Chanyeol, looking smug and in control while the other boy struggled to get a hold of his strange feelings.

He actually felt very proud. He wasn’t a gambler, and hated to play with his fate, but he was so good at reading characters, an ability in which he had the most complete trust ever. He knew Chanyeol, and he was positively sure that Chanyeol, who had no problems whatsoever with killing strangers, wouldn’t ever been able to tear not even a hair out of the head of someone who considered a friend. Lucky for him, he seemed to fit the standards.

“So,” he said, not liking the way his voice still quaked with adrenaline, “what can I say?”

Chanyeol seemed to be more calm, his breath regular now. He kept eyeing the gun, but he didn’t make any tries to retrieve it from Lu Han’s firm grasp.

“What can you say?”

“Actually, I don’t even know if you passed or failed the test, Chanyeol.”

The response was lazy, almost smug.

“You’re still alive, so you surely nailed it.”

He laughed, with sincere amusement. It wasn’t often that he was able to truly laugh, and in a few hours he had managed to do it twice. Those two punks.

“Well, Chanyeol, let’s say you passed. What should I do with you now?”

Chanyeol thought about it.

“Save Baekhyun. Save him, and we’ll call it a wrap for tonight. No more assassination attempts, I swear.”

His tone was light, ad he even raised a hand to his chest, like it was a real vow, but there was darkness in his face, and Lu Han had to dig until he found his answer.

Baekhyun already had the chance to save himself, and he could only thank his lucky star that those two never fucking talked, or else he wouldn’t have had such a wonderful opportunity to wrest the such an important information out of Chanyeol.

“Let’s make a deal, Yeol. You want to save Baekhyun, don’t you?”

Chanyeol looked at him, cautious, but his eyes, in his gaze there was that right mixture of determination and that sort of recklessness that only desperation can generate, and Lu Han just knew that, if he played his cards well, he would have no need for the gun to obtain what he wanted.

“If you give me what I want, I will provide you and your boyfriend with a car, a credit card and an air ticket. You get out of that door, retrieve your boy toy and you both disappear from this city and start a new, more fulfilling I hope, life with the money that I kindly decided to leave you as a, uhm, let’s call it compensation. No more dangers, no more debts, end of the story Chanyeol, and I’ll male sure that the past doesn’t come back to haunt you for the rest of your lives.”

“Where’s the trap?”

“No trap,” was his answer, “but…”

Chanyeol waited for him to go on.

“You only have a chance, you know.”

He pointed a finger towards the boy.

“There’s something that I want, an information that only you can give me now. I am going to ask you one time, only once, and if you fail to give me the answer the deal is off, and Baekhyun’s destiny is out of your hands, forever.”

He waited, wanting to build the anticipation.
From the look on Chanyeol’s face, he already knew what Lu Han was going to ask him.

“Who told you I was waiting here?”

Chanyeol opened his mouth to protest, but Lu Han beat him to it.

“Remember, Chanyeol, I want the right answer. If the next thing that goes out of your mouth is not what I want to hear we’re done. Baekhyun is done.”

He stressed Baekhyun’s name, Chanyeol’s face twisting in pain and longing at the familiar syllables, his mind probably summoning Baekhyun’s presence and voice and laugh from his memories.
Lu Han waited for the wave of feelings to hit, before urging Chanyeol.

“Who told you the codes, who helped you to reach this place?”

Silence hanged between them. He had made his move, now everything was in Chanyeol’s hands.

He watched, with a sort of strange and twisted interest, the battle that was taking places in Chanyeol’s conscience. He saw the remorse, the guilt, the endless pain.

You can look it from every side, but you’ll still end up losing, Chanyeol. You just have to choose carefully what to lose.

He had no intention to force Chanyeol in telling him the truth, the boy was stubborn and he knew he wouldn’t just cave. However, with the right pressure, with carefully sharpened and chosen words, Chanyeol would have told him what he wanted to know by himself, by his own free will.

Lu Han hated taking responsibilities, he had done it with Kyungsoo, in what seemed a long time ago, and even then, he had chosen to dump all the guilt on Baekhyun’s shoulders. He wouldn’t commit the same mistake now. Chanyeol could only blame himself for the consequences of his own choices.

He mentally praised his own abilities when Chanyeol’s inner battle ended, his mouth opening to speak the last name Lu Han could have ever imagined.

Tomorrow

Baekhyun tapped his fingers on the glass of Kris’ luxurious car.

He hadn’t heard Chanyeol all day, after waking up and finding himself alone on the giant bed, wrapped the heavy comforter the way he liked best, the way Chanyeol always wrapped him before leaving.

He usually said where he was going, but this time there was nothing. Not even a post-it on the fridge. He stole a glance at the blonde man at the steering wheel, supposedly Chanyeol’s best friend. As his eyes travelled on the elegant line of the jaw, to end up fixed on the shiny piercing on his ear, he wondered if Chanyeol knew about him and Kris. He also wondered if he could trust Kris enough to ask him the question that had been tormenting him for a while now.

He cleared his voice, but Kris didn’t give any sign of recognition.

He coughed again, less subtly this time, to draw the attention of the man, but he got no response.
As he opened his eyes to ask, he didn’t even know what he was going to ask, he was pinned on his place by Kris’ stare, and he stayed like a fish, his mouth open, squirming uncomfortably on the seat.

“There’s something you want to ask?”

There was something unnerving on Kris, syllables curling up on his tongue in a strange way that left that foreign taste in Baekhyun’s ears, making very difficult for him to understand his mood.

“I, just” he nervously wetted his lips, “weren’t you assigned to Chanyeol? I mean…”

Kris’ eyebrow was slightly arched, like he didn’t understand what was the matter.

“Chanyeol can make it on his own, he’s actually very dangerous and he doesn’t need me as a nanny.”

“No, I mean, weren’t you protecting him from Choi’s men?”

Kris frowned, before answering. “Mind your own business, Byun.”

And that was all.

The rest of the journey passed in an awkward silence, as Baekhyun silently imposed himself to breathe slowly. The heaviness of what he was going to do, going to try to do, he corrected himself, gradually sinking on his mind and making him dizzy and nauseous.

The weight of the weapon he had received from Kris, currently lying against his stomach from the messenger bag, was too solid for him. He could feel the coldness seeping through the leather and crawling like poison in his belly.

He wondered if guilt, if he ever succeeded at accomplishing his taste, would have the same aftertaste on his wrecked mind.

He could feel Kris’ eyes on him, probably scanning his scared features, probably thinking he would’ve never go able to go through it. He had seemed dubious enough as he put the weapon in his hand, curling Baekhyun’s fingers against the metal to show him how he was supposed to use it, and he had watched, with dark eyes, as Baekhyun’s wrist trembled as he put it away.

Outside the car unknown streets run in front of Baekhyun’s eyes, swift, colourful flashes of places he had never seen in his life. He looked for Lu’s skyscrapers, easily finding him thanks to his outstanding height, but he was surprised to see how far it was.

“Where are we going?” he asked, even more nervous than before, if possible.

Kris kept driving, and Baekhyun wanted to smack him in the head to get some kind of answer.
They finally stopped, and even if Baekhyun hadn’t ever been there in his life, he recognized, from the building around him, the neighbourhood. They were at the heart of the city, the staid, tidy half of it, all clean gardens, dutiful police agents helping grannies at every corner, banks, offices and government buildings. And famous, five star rated hotels.

He moved to jump off the car, but the door wouldn’t bulge.

Kris turned towards him. “I’m waiting for you here, do what you have to do, come down, we’ll pick Chanyeol up on the way and you two are out of this, right?”

He gulped. Kris nodded, not so sure himself, and opened the door for him.

“Good luck.”

Pretending had never come so easily to Baekhyun.

Like Hannie had said, Choi Minho was like a kid, the more you tell him no, no, no, the more he wants it. Baekhyun had made sure he wanted it all, waving his resistance as a weapon, swaying his hips and scratching Minho’s hands when they tried to still him, until the man saw only red and Baekhyun, Baekhyun, everywhere.

He hadn’t been that rough, winced Baekhyun, his mind lost in other clients, other nights he didn’t want to remember, but he had been furious and breathless, and rage had made him delirious with want. Now that he was sleeping, it wasn’t difficult for Baekhyun to carefully dislodge himself from the tight hold on his waist, sneaking into the bathroom to clean himself and assessing the damage.

A rapid look on the street outside showed him absolutely nothing.
He had hoped to see Kris’ car down there, if only to have even one familiar element to hold on while he tried to do this. Outside, a thick fog had covered everything, and he could only look out to where he knew his old place to be. He hoped Chanyeol was waiting for him there.

Stealth as a cat, he took the gun from the bag.

It was big, almost too big for his hands. It’s the silencer, had said Kris, I would've liked to give you a smaller one, but you need the silencer.

He worked his fingers around it, sagging the consistence and playing with the safety. The click startled him, the sound amplified in the cold darkness of the room, and his eyes went to Choi’s face. Even the soft sigh he gave at the sight of him, still sleeping soundly, seemed too loud in the utter silence.

Baekhyun stood, in the middle of the room, with the gun in his hands, tears starting to prickle at the corner of his eyes. He didn’t know what to do.

He had had waited so much for this moment, anticipating the fear, waiting for some kind of understanding to dawn over him.

All of the ethic, moral qualms that had crowded his heart in the past few hours seemed gone, and he felt empty and dull.

A hollow boy in a hollow room with a gun in his hands, and he wasn’t conflicted, he didn’t feel any of the strong emotions he thought that would’ve felt, he just didn’t feel anything. He knew he should’ve felt the hurry, the need to do this as soon as possible, if he really was to do this. Choi was going to wake up and find him like this, his eyes lost in the void, fogged like the sky outside the window, and just as dark.

He felt no feelings of some sort, but he could feel with utter precision every nerve of his body, every muscle, every pulse of his heart and flow of blood through his limbs. He forced his legs to take him near the bed where the man was sleeping, shirtless and relaxed.

And there, as he looked at Minho’s closed eyes, he felt something. A shock, searing hot, in his heart, spreading everywhere like a lash, filling the void with a sharp, hungry fear. His hands trembled around the weapon, and he knew, deep inside, that Choi Minho was awake and only waiting for him to do his move.

The pressure grew, inside him, the terror now rasping at the door of his conscience, begging to be let out, and no matter how much he wanted to keep his closed inside, hidden and chained, the beast had already broke out, and now was everything, inside and outside him, ready to eat him out. He aimed at Minho, before it was too late.

Six hours later

Lu Han walked leisurely, enjoying the way the gelid rays of the winter sun played with his light hair, making it shine. After having spent too much time at the skyscraper his dull, worn out building welcomed him, letting him finally feel at ease. Kris was waiting for him outside, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible and miserably failing, since his coat probably was probably more valuable than the entire neighbourhood.

He had replayed the entire conversation in his head too many times, and he still couldn’t believe it.
This time, he thought, this time I was played for good. He led Kris towards the stairs, a nod of his head towards the right door, before turning on his heels and walking away.

Kris’ panicked voice reached him, “Where are you going?”

“Don’t worry about me, just take him and bring him somewhere.”

“Han, I have to take Baekhyun to see Choi Minho in a few hours, I can’t interrogate him now.”

So many problems. “You can do it tomorrow, I don’t really care. Just make sure he doesn’t run away.”

Kris looked at him, the portrait of exasperation. “And where the fuck are you going?”

Lu Han didn’t care to answer, his mind fixated on one little details that could cost him the entire game, and he almost let it pass. This game was deeper than he had thought, but if his instincts were right, he was finally going to checkmate, for good.

There’s only one last thing I need to do.

“So, are you going to go?”

“Yes, Chanyeol hasn’t tried to contact me all day, he’s either dead or he's talked. They’re probably already looking for me.”

“Be careful, please be careful.”

“No, you be careful hyung, after I’ll go away you’ll be alone in this mess. Watch your back.”

“I’ll be. Say goodbye to the guys, on my behalf.”

“Don’t worry hyung.”

He hadn’t even laid the phone on the table, that a loud sound coming from the door made him turn, only to find the barrel of a giant gun held by a giant hand in front of his face. He paled.

Kris looked at him with, was that disappointment, and maybe sadness. “I’m afraid you have to come with me, and this time it won’t be a pleasurable trip.”

He laughed bitterly, but preceded the sniper anyway, getting in the car without even being told. Kris handcuffed his hands at the car door, just to be sure, before walking around the car and sitting on the seat driver. He started the engine.

Silence filled the vehicle, as they ran towards his destiny.

I waited too much to get away, he laughed bitterly. Stupid Chanyeol, stupid trustworthy me.

From his side, Kris talked, his voice bearing no inflection. “You were my favourite, you know?”

Jongdae kept smiling, but it was an empty smile.

“I know.”

Lu Han could just stare, gaping. Chanyeol’s mouth kept moving, but his brain couldn’t catch up with the words, still focused on possibilities, probabilities, facts, the world he thought he knew, deleted with a name on the right mouth.

“It can’t be, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol had looked at him, without understanding, and it dawned on Lu Han that Chanyeol couldn’t possibly lie about this, simply because he knew nothing. Surely, Baekhyun had never told him the story, those two were already walking on a constant cliff-hanger, something like that could have only killed their already frail relationship. Still, what Chanyeol was saying, was fucking bullshit.

“Ok, let’s suppose that you’re telling the truth, which, I must say, just can’t be possible, he told you that Baekhyun was working for me, right? But he didn’t tell you how to go past my security codes, nor he could tell you that I was here, right?”

He was more than anxious, because no matter how much his mind tried to complete the puzzle, he just couldn’t get the pieces to fall together. It was unnerving, and scary.

“No,” admitted Chanyeol, “he…”

He paused, but Lu Han was getting none of this bullshit, not at this point.

“I swear to god Chanyeol, you talk or this time I kill you for sure.”

“But, you told me-”

Lu Han cut him off, impatient.

“I lied.” He raised the gun. “Who is the fucking spy?”

“Kim Jongdae.”

He had tried to reason, but the only conclusion he could come up with was that Chanyeol wasn’t lying. And that was frightening, because Chanyeol had said that Kyungsoo was still alive, that he had talked to Kyungsoo, and that couldn’t be true. Lu Han had killed Kyungsoo, shot him with his own hands and left him to die a horrible and painful death. There was no such things at betrayal in Lu’s policy.

Chanyeol didn’t know Kyungsoo, it could have been anyone else pretending to be him.

But you didn’t see the body, kept telling a little voice inside him. You shot him, but you didn’t see him dead.

Lu Han ran, inhaling the cold, polluted hair, letting the sounds of traffic and humanity around him seep in his head, mixing with his thought and making it ephemeral, light as feathers. When he finally stopped he was short of breath, and his head was much clearer than before. He walked the last bit that separated him from his destination.

Then, there was Kim Jongdae. Perfect, not a single slip in all the time Lu Han had been watching him, and Lu Han had watched for a very long time. If Jongdae was the spy, then he was working for someone, and everything was falling apart because Kyungsoo had been the one to introduce Jongdae to Lu Han’s nightclub, all that time ago.

Everything was perfect, everything was right. Almost.

There was something biting at his neck, and no matter how he tried to ignore it to make it go away it only worsened, to the point of being unbearable. A doubt, growing like a seed from deep inside, making him restless and nervous.

The club was closed, like every afternoon, too early for anyone to actually be there. Lu Han knew only one person who was silly enough to spend all of his free time there, even where the rest of the crew had gone home. The first to come in, the last to get out, he thought, the one who gets to hear all of the juicy gossips.

He had been a fool.

They had searched all the offices, the highest floors, every important places in the building looking for bugs, for every kind of electronic device, for every suspicious person that lingered too much on the hallways, trying to snatch a useful piece of information. They had found nothing.

He stepped in the dim light of the empty club, but the other man didn’t heard him, his head lost n listening to the sounds coming from the little buds clipped on his ears, tapping his fingers on the glass bottles with a hand while with the other he dusted them. Turned towards the bar he couldn’t see Lu Han, slightly advancing on him.

Lu Han, though, could see him very well, but his eyes weren’t fixed on the shoulders, the same shoulders that had been the first part of him he had seen ever, when Kyungsoo had introduced them some years ago. His eyes were fixed so much lower, on the curve of his ass.

With a swift move he jumped on the counter, snatched the earbuds from Minseok’s hold and screamed in his ear. Minseok squealed as he fell on Lu Han, losing his grip on the scotch bottle and making it fall and break in thousand pieces on the floor.

The strong smell of alcohol tickled Lu Han’s nose, and he smugly curved one of his hands on Minseok’s ass, the other one bringing the stolen earpiece to his own ear, to ear Joonmyeon’s voice as he debated something with one of their best operation leaders. Minseok’s eyes were huge and fucking terrified, going from the earpiece to Lu Han’s face, while his red mouth hung open and slack.

So kissable, mused Lu Han, tightening his legs around the boy when he felt his body tense, ready to spring and ran away. Minseok squirmed in his hold, making a go for the earpiece, but Lu Han pinched his butt, making him squeal, and held the electronic device out of his range.

“So,” he said, smiling like the cat that got the mouse, “it was you who kept sneaking around like a rat in my own house, listening to things you shouldn’t be listening,” he pulled Minseok flush around him, enjoying his obvious discomfort, “being a cute little traitor.”

This time Minseok’s jaw literally fell, realizing the implications of what Lu Han had just said -in my own house- of who he really was, and he fought with more force, trying to get free of Lu Han’s limbs. Lu Han was having none of that, no no no no.

“You know,” he said, after having reverted their positions, trapping Minseok between himself and the counter, Minseok’s arms bent painfully by his hands, “I am almost relieved.”

He pressed against him, and Minseok shivered under his hands. Perfect.

“I thought I was losing my touch, when you kept refusing me… And it comes out that you were only,” he lowered his face to rub his nose against Minseok’s nose, their lips inches apart, “trying to find my real identity in order to kill me.”

He laughed on Minseok’s mouth. “I think we can work on it, I have hope in our love.”

He was lucky he had good reflexes and he had managed to dodge Minseok’s head or the headbutt would have destroyed his perfect nose.

His hands and body pinned him tighter, tearing a pained whimper out of him, before dragging him to his feet.

“Come with me, sweetie, you have a little explanation to do.”

Minseok spat in his face. “I’m not telling you anything, fuck you.”

“No,” laughed Lu Han, wiping his face, “I’ll fuck you, and no need to worry. Jongdae will tell us everything we need after we’ll be done with him, I don’t even need your information.”

Minseok paled, and tried to hit him again, unsuccessfully.

“Oh, feisty, I like it. This is going to be fun, dearie.”

Baekhyun sagged in the mattress like he was falling, an unforgiving void wrapping around him like a mantle. He could feel, with a neat and clear precision, every fold, every crease and bump and every crinkle in the sheets under his shoulder blades, the usually imperceptible rustling of the softest silk against his even softer naked skin now was painfully load.

And yet, despite the solid presence of the messy bed under him, Baekhyun fell and fell, even if he was not moving, even if he couldn’t move, not with Choi’s hand keeping him still and anchored to the earth.

He wondered where all of his fear had gone, if the monster had finally fled from his prison leaving behind only the silence of his empty cell. That would have explained why he couldn’t hear anything, but in exchange his sense of touch was going in overdrive, making him feel like the world was going to converge on him and choke his last breath out of his throat, like Minho’s hand tight on his jugular, a velvet hold to wear like a vanity charm on his neck.

He couldn’t even hear his own pulse, everything swallowed in the perfect calm of his last moment, and he wondered if it was faint, trembling and desperate like a goldfinch’s or low and resounding darkly on the walls of his ribcage.

It didn’t really care because, in retrospect, he had always known Minho was going to kill him tonight.

In the overstretched infinity of the room, as the gun was raised until the critical moment, Choi’s hand had blindly reached for Baekhyun’s, even before his eyes had snapped open, wrapping his strong fingers on Baekhyun’s slim wrist and pulling.

It was too strong and sudden, making Baekhyun’s world spin until he was pinned between his own gun and sheets that still smelled like sweat and sex.

With this, positions, reverted, him on the sheets ad Minho lethal and merciless over him, he finally felt more at ease, the familiarity of his own territory dulling insecurities and pain and lullabying him into finally, finally giving up everything.

He had always known it, like a bite on his heart, that he wouldn’t have been able to walk out of the room alive, and when the reality if Choi Minho idly taking his sweet time before he killed Baekhyun finally settled in his own brain he didn’t try to fight him.

Instead, he tried to fall even deeper, forcing himself to breath, concentrate Baekhyun, concentrate, tuning out the angry and leering way Minho moved his lips, probably spitting profanities at Baekhyun. The firearm was in Minho’s hand like it had always belonged to him, and Baekhyun closed his eyes and let himself sink into unconsciousness.

However, the hand that was currently cutting him all of the air pinched swiftly closing on his windpipe hard but not hard enough, to the point that it distracted him, kept him awake and on the edge so that he could listen to the endless streaming of curses. Minho wanted him awake and aware for the grand finale.

The fog in his ears was starting to scatter away, the perfect white silence gone as a low, insistent buzz took its place, blending with his raspy, choked attempts at breathing. He could make out, from lip reading, a few words, and he tried to shake his head and exclude him again, but the bastard was stronger and Baekhyun was trapped again, between the bed, the gun and Choi Minho’s fingers, trapped inside his own body and sensations and unable to let go.

He was on his own, like it always had been. Rile them up, make them hit you, play with their rage.

Minho was already livid, but Baekhyun’s spit on his cheek made him mad, and Baekhyun flashed him his signature smile, cocky and challenging and derisive.

As Choi Minho cut his airflow completely and raised the gun, Baekhyun made a conscious effort not to think about Chanyeol’s cute smile and warm hands. If he really had to go, he wanted to go out with a smirk, he wanted to make Minho even angrier, not giving him the sick pleasure to see him trembling, helplessly afraid.

He would have spat him again, but everything was becoming too much, too raw and dry. He closed his eyes, waiting for the blow.

It was smoother than what he thought, his world ending not with a bang, but with a whimper.

He thought it would have been loud, and somehow meaningful, but he didn’t see any light at the end of the tunnel, no rerun of the best episodes of his life, ending somehow through season three, at the end of his last year in high school.

His world ended with a hand on his wrist, and Kris leading him blindly through the endless aisles of the hotel, roughly forcing him to keep walker, faster, faster, even as he winced in pain when the bright lights of the hotel made him blind and confused.

Kris threw him inside the car and they left in a hurry.

Yifan was fucked. Thoroughly, absolutely, unmistakably fucked. Figuratively, physically, probably even mentally, but as much as he feared Lu Han’s reaction seeing Baekhyun beside him made him feel. It had been so long since Yifan had felt something, anything. He worried for Lu Han, and he longed for something that was out of his range, had always been out of his range, but other than that he felt empty and maybe useless. And sometimes, he felt bad.

He thought of Chen, white knuckles tight on the hem of his shirt as Yifan drove him to the room that was to become his prison for, he didn’t even know for how long. Until Lu Han has managed to extract the tiniest piece of information from him. Until Lu Han gets bored. Until Yifan decides he can’t do this anymore.

Baekhyun reminded him of Chen, his face was the same colour as the other boy. But Chen hadn’t been shaking that much. Nor was he covered in warm blood.

Lu Han won’t be happy about this. He had been given strict instructions, “take Baekhyun there, wait for him, if he doesn’t come leave. Report to me.”

Lu Han had a game open with Baekhyun, matters that should’ve been cleared a long time ago with Baekhyun’s cold body left to rot in a dark alley. Instead Lu Han had waited, and waited, and he had eventually befriended the boy in his quest to find out who-knows-what, and then they were all rolling in messes.

They had gotten attached, because he had known his best friend long enough to understand that he really, really had a soft spot for Baekhyun, stupid revenge plans or not. And then Chanyeol had come, and Kris, no, Yifan, had tried his best not to take a liking to the other boy but it had been impossible.

The way Chanyeol followed him around like a puppy, scrunching up his nose when he didn’t understand something, mimicking him and rolling his eyes whenever Yifan reprimanded him. The way Chanyeol was a thirteen year old girl trapped in a giant war machine reminded Yifan too much of his own brother that, in the end, he had started to find the other boy cute, and from cute to really cute, and in the end letting Baekhyun die hadn’t really been an option for him.

He had known Baekhyun wouldn’t have been able to do it on his own from the moment the boy had stepped inside his car, his face a mask of uncertainty and nervousness. Baekhyun simply didn’t have it in him. He could be devious and manipulating and cruel, just like Lu Han, he thought bitterly, but he wasn’t a killer. And so he had paced, and paced, drumming his fingers of the steering wheel, waiting for Baekhyun, hoping against every odds.

“Why would you do that?”

Baekhyun’s thin voice surprised him so much that he accidentally stopped the vehicle in the middle of the crossing, earning himself a few pissed off stares from the other drivers.

He looked around himself nervously, because as much as he had tried to be inconspicuous and secretive there was always the possibility, and it was more of a certainty, that someone had seen them leaving the hotel, that someone had found Minho’s body, that someone was looking for them already.

“Why did you save me? I thought,” Baekhyun bit his colourless lip, “Hannie said I had to do that alone.”

His features scrunched up in grimace, thinking at what that meant, but Yifan pretended not to notice and he kept driving, not gracing Baekhyun with an answer.

He didn’t know what to say. How do you explain a boy, a boy that almost got killed because your best friend likes dangerous games, that his life is not supposed to mean anything to you, that he’s disposable, a little pawn. Yifan shouldn’t have cared at all about Byun Baekhyun’s destiny.

But somehow, somewhere along the road, he had started to care. Lu Han had started to care. There was the game, and the game was the most important thing in the world because losing the game for them meaning death. But, he thought, the bitch with fiery eyes who had caused Hannie so much pain had become Baekhyun, his stupid boyfriend who shot like a professional and knew the identity of the spy had become Chanyeol, and Chen had become Jongdae, in the safety of hidden rooms and the strong walls of Yifan’s flat.

Lu Han was going to kill him, but he had nothing to regret because in the end it was all Lu Han’s fault. He decided the rules, he had worn the dress of the skinny prostitute with too many friends, he had made fake friends and true friends, and he had managed to drag his friends in Yifan’s life too. Yes, Lu Han was really going to be mad at him, but deep inside Yifan knew that Han wanted nothing more than a happy ending for those two. And Yifan wanted it too.

The brakes cried as he stopped the car, abruptly. Baekhyun had collapsed, pale as a ghost, and in the ethereal lights of the city, shining behind them, he seemed dead.

There was the faintest trace of red on his face, when Minho’s blood had splattered after the impact with Yifan’s bullet. Yifan had tried to remove it from his face, hastily, because they had to gone through the main hall and people could get suspicious.

Baekhyun probably didn’t even remember, the way Yifan had hastily thrown him his clothes, cleaning him as best as he could, and leading him away from the corpse, away from the bed, away. He was dazed, shocked, no wonder he had collapsed during the journey to the suburbs.

He flashed his lights to another car, the only one visible between the night and the fog. He hoped it was the right one, almost prayed for it not to be an ambush, but a text on his cellphone confirmed that it was the right person.

He opened the door, and picked up Baekhyun’s body from the passenger seat. He weighed nothing in his arms, and he turned to look at him, one last time, before carefully lowering him onto Chanyeol’s arms.

He wanted to say something, anything, but Chanyeol smiled at him, wide and unrestricted, and he smiled back.

“Be safe.”

“You too.”

He didn’t wait for the sound of Chanyeol’s car engine, he just left. When he turned his face, the fog had swallowed them. He would miss the couple, he thought, they had somehow turned his and Lu Han’s little world upside down. He hoped they made it. He hoped that he never had to see them again.

Chanyeol turned towards Baekhyun pale and asleep beside him. The road was dark and barely lit, and the faint, sporadic lights they met summoned vanishing ghost on Baekhyun furrowed brow.

Chanyeol didn't know what Baekhyun was dreaming about. He knew he had to do something for Lu Han, on his own, but he wasn't allowed to know anything else.

When Kris, Yifan, he was still slowly trying to adjust the new names inside his head to people he thought he knew, when Yifan had called him to come and pick Baekhyun up earlier that night, he had clearly felt the urgency laced in his words. He had taken a secondary road in order to avoid Minho's men, driven fast and waited in a shadow for Kris to show up, thinking whether they should really follow Lu Han's plan.

That boy was crazy. The only thing Chanyeol wanted was to get as far as possible as fast as possible. But he had clearly seen with his own eyes how impractical it was, they were already following him, had been following him for days. He looked around nervously, every shadow they passed was an hostile car, every turn they took the way for a trap.

Baekhyun whimpered and his eyes shot open, scanning his surroundings with terror in his eyes until he found Chanyeol and froze. “What happened?” he said, shooting nervous glances outside the window. “Where are we, where’s Kris, where’s Minho?” He spluttered and choked, clearly short of breath, and fell back on the seat with a pained moan.

“Lay down,” advised Chanyeol, “Kris told me you fell asleep in the car, probably for the shock. It’s not wise to fret so much in your condition.”

Baekhyun nodded, but Chanyeol could still feel his breath, fast and out of rhythm. He was behaving like some wild animal, driven in the corner, confused and scared. He took a look at his trembling face, too pale and eerie, his brow covered in sweat, and even if he had never witnessed one in his life Chanyeol had little doubt about what was happening. He slowed down and stopped the car, deciding they could take a few minutes to avoid Baekhyun dying of a panic attack.

“What are you doing, why are… Chanyeol, please, they’re gonna find us, and they’re gonna find me, and he’s gonna kill us both, please Chanyeol please we have to go, we have to go, you don’t…”

He looked at Baekhyun, crying nonsense and shattering, eyes wet and big. He didn’t know what to do. Little drop of blood had blossomed and shrivelled on his face, and on his neck, faint and pale like a ghost, there was the shadow of a hand. Before he could even think he was raising his hand to touch it, but Baekhyun shrieked and slumped against the seat, one hand to cover his neck and the other to hug his knees. He seemed little and lost. Chanyeol clearly heard the sound of his heart breaking.

“What did they do to you?”

His own voice surprised him. Never in his life it had been so frail and thin. In Baekhyun’s haunted eyes he could only see the reflection of a little man with a scared voice. He had sworn to never let Baekhyun down again, to never let him get hurt again on his own, suffering again on his own. He had tried so hard, but just looking at Baekhyun fighting the horror behind his eyelids to find the force to breath made he understand he had failed, after all.

His vision was blurred, and maybe he was crying. Baekhyun definitely was.

He reached for him. Baekhyun flinched and shrilled, but he didn’t let go, held the scrawny shaking form in his arms and soothed him. “Breathe, Baekhyun, breathe. It’s all right, it’s all right, good boy, you’re the best, Baekhyun, so brave, so beautiful, breathe please, breathe.”

Baekhyun resisted, his body rocking between spasms, his throat working convulsively, in a frenzy, he had barely enough air in his lungs to survive. Chanyeol kept talking, low words, little phrases from their favourite songs. Even if he didn’t know what to say, even if he wanted to curl like Baekhyun and cry as well, even if his voice felt hoarse and broken, he talked. Anything to bring him back.

He knew he had won when Baekhyun crushed on him, limbs finally giving up and collapsing, tender and pliant in his hands. He was still crying, he could hear the tears through the fabric of his shirt, the little quakes of his shoulder, the barely suppressed sniffs. He didn’t want to let go. Baekhyun, so cold at first, was only starting to get a little warm.

Still, they had to go.

He let Baekhyun go, dying a little at the way his body followed unconsciously the warmth of Chanyeol’s arms when they left him. He was breathing normal now, but his face was still red and a little weary. They didn’t talk.

The day was coming, and they were nearing Busan by now, the sea vividly glistening in the distance, drawing a horizon of diamonds. Like a little paradise, thought Chanyeol, but reaching it would be tough. If what Kris had told him was true, Lee Jinki already had his best man scattered around the country, and the consistent bounty over their heads put them even more in danger. Getting to the port seemed like an impossible mission. And for what? As if Kim Kibum didn’t have all kinds of allies in Asia, and Chanyeol was betting that everyone of them was impatient to prove himself worthy to the boss.

They’ll kill us even before we can land.

He would have never known if it was such a thought that distracted him, or maybe the lovely outline of the coast welcoming them at the first lights of dawn, but he let his guard down. Maybe it was even Baekhyun’s neat profile, face lifting up to stare at the sea like it could be his wreck or his lifeline. He watched Chanyeol hiding a mute question at the corner of his eyes, the ocean winds mixing with the cold air of the winter night and playing with his air.

Chanyeol wanted to reassure him, telling him that Lu Han did have a plan, that he was his friend and friends never let you down. He wanted to tell him they were going to be free, finally. And this time both of them.

He didn’t have the time.

Suddenly, there was a crash.

epilogue >>