untitled
Title: draftdraftdraftdraft
Pairing: Kai/Sehun
Rating: R
Genre: Action(?)
Length:~2500
Summary/Warnings: kris, some gore at the end , swearing, character death, a character has suicidal thoughts, zombies
Mid-may heat makes the fabric of his black tank stick to his skin. The sky is obnoxiously cloudless today. The sun is high above and Sehun has to shield his eyes with his hand- he'd forgotten his sunglasses.
One of the worst heat waves in Seoul in over a century, the news reporters had said. The city had issued a heat warning and even advised people not to go outside. There's not much activity to see around this time of day, especially since it was around noon, when the day's heat was at its peak.
There's been an increase in reports cars overheating recently, and Sehun can't deny that they're true. He'd seen at least four cars overheated in the roads recently. It was risky to get stuck in your car in the midday heat around these parts. On his way to the university a couple of days ago, he'd seen a couple of paramedics bring out someone who fainted from inside a black Sentra. The paramedics didn't look too far off from being in the same state, either. Oddly, though, the passenger, a man with turtle shell glasses, seemed completely unfazed by the heat.
And why was it that he was stuck outside in the unbearable midday heat of Seoul?
Kim Jongin, self-proclaimed future Nobel Prize winner in chemistry. World-class chemical engineering major who constantly seems to forget all his notes on the days with the worst weather possible and usually also when Sehun owes him major favors.
He had to walk for forty minutes in negative thirty-degree weather, before. Now it's thirty minutes in forty-degree weather.
The only person Sehun spots on the streets is a tall, gangly-looking man walking in the opposite direction. The man looks slightly dazed and there’s an oddity in his steps. Probably drunk. Something about him catches Sehun's eye, though. Perhaps it's because he seems strangely familiar.
* * *
The first thing that strikes Sehun is the distinct odor of mildew. The musty cloth draped over him is quite noticeable as well, but not quite as noticeable as the fact that it is pitch black and he's stuck in a space that is quite enclosed. He feels the brush of earth against his fingertips.
Buried. Ha. He's buried.
Panic sets in. He already has no idea how long he's been here for. If he's lucky, he'll have two hours left. Obviously, being lucky isn't one of qualities. Otherwise he wouldn't even be here.
The feeling of earth at his fingertips is still there. It gives Sehun hope.
* * *
When Sehun knocks on the front door of their apartment building it's seven thirty o'clock, or at least what he can determine to be seven thirty o'clock. It's hard to determine exactly what time it is when you haven't a single clock on you. Either way, it's dark enough to warrant that at least it's pretty late. The last of Jongin's classes should have ended hours ago, if he's assumed correctly.
He knocks on the door. Three taps, a bang, a tap. The secret combination he and Jongin had come up with to distinguish each other from the salespeople who'd pass by at least twice a week.
Jongin opens the front door and it's rather obvious how he flinches before regaining his composure, clearing his throat. "Hi. Do you need something?"
"What do you mean, do I need something? I live here. "
Jongin's face twists into a pained expression. "Who are you?"
"What? Jongin, you already know-"
Jongin cuts him off and glares at him. "I don't."
His words are unnecessarily sharp. Sehun glares back, annoyed. "Sehun. I'm Sehun."
"...No."
"No. No. What the fuck, you're dead, I saw your... you can't - you can't be here, what-"
Jongin purses his lips and slams the door.
You're dead.
What the hell? What's Jongin talking about? No, Sehun is not dead. Sehun is very much alive, if he was dead, he'd be lying motionless, buried in a hole deep undergrou-
Fuck.
Sehun stares at the door in front of him. "Jongin, open the door." Sehun bangs harshly on the door panel.
* * *
Sehun stalks up behind Jongin and breathes in.
Traces of mint. Contentedness. Yesterday’s dinner. Early morning coffee. The smells of the living, Sehun realizes, are much different from the smells of the dead. Very… distinct. What others are there? The faint smell of iron, anxiety, fear-
“Sehun, I would highly suggest you get away from my neck.”
Sehun rests his chin on Jongin’s shoulder. Jongin’s knuckles are white. “You don’t trust me? I should be offended, best friend.”
“Not now, I don’t.” Jongin shakes Sehun off his shoulder. “Please move away.”
Sehun leans in and takes another deep breath before pulling away. “Suit yourself.”
* * *
“What is this?” Jongin points to the black, tar-looking substance smeared all over his kitchen counter.
Sehun tugs the hem of his shirt. “Blood? Honestly, I’m not sure that’s what I should call it anymore. Don’t touch it. Sticky stuff.”
“And you just left this on the counter?”
“No, seriously. Water doesn’t work, and your cheap ass cleaner makes it spatter everywhere. See for yourself if you don’t believe me.”
* * *
“What’s it like?”
“What’s what like?”
“You know. The whole zombie thing.”
“I’m not really sure. Um, it’s not much different I guess. I can still talk. And think. The whole people package.”
“Do you want to eat people? Like, brains or something? I’m assuming it’s not bloodlust, because,” Jongin motions in a circle, “Well, neither of us is dead yet. Kind of.”
“It’s not really a bloodlust, it’s more like, um, how do I explain this…”
“Go on?”
“Say there is a cake. This cake looks delicious. This cake smells delicious. This cake probably also tastes really good. I could eat that cake and it would be fantastic, but I don’t need to. Do you get my point.”
“Are you… are you seriously comparing me to a cake right now.”
“Oh my god, Jongin, shut up. I’m trying to explain. And no, I don’t have a preference for brains. I want to eat your arm just as much as I want to eat your head.”
“You want to eat me?” Jongin squeaks.
“I thought we’d already established this,” Sehun sighs, exasperation slipping through.
“You’d better not try to eat me, I swear to god-”
“I told you I wouldn’t! Have you been listening?”
* * *
“You know what the worst part is? I didn’t even have to die. If only that asshole on the road could’ve controlled his fucking actions,” Sehun scoffs, “then I wouldn’t have had to-” he stops, sighing. “I guess there’s no point anymore, is there?”
* * *
Sehun watches from the sofa as a drowsy Jongin half-sleepwalks from the bedroom to the kitchen.
“You left the bedroom door unlocked last night,” Sehun kindly informs him.
“Oh, did I?” Jongin yawns.
“Getting careless, aren’t you? You can die from that, you know. Carelessness killed the cat,” Sehun jokes. “Or was it curiosity? I don’t remember.”
“Second one. And don’t worry,” Jongin says, “won’t happen again. Scouts’ honor,” Jongin raises his hand in mock salute.
But it continues. The next night, the night after, the night after.
* * *
“I could’ve killed you, you know,” The sound of metal on wood is a contrast to the static of the blank tv screen. “You could be dead right now.”
“But I’m not.”
“But you aren’t. I just-” Jongin licks his lips. “I don’t know.”
Sehun turns around, draping himself over the dull beige couch. “Funny. I could say the same thing to you.” He watches Jongin’s grip tighten, then relax.
“But you didn’t.”
“And I won’t. So, it works out.”
* * *
Sehun's picking up the usual in addition to some cans of luncheon meat, Ma Ling for Jongin. He's never understood Jongin's irrational insistence to specifically get the brand. It's all the same, anyway. Spam. Salty, porky, awful muck.
The only thing good about it is that it proves Sehun's superior taste in food and is pretty good Jongin teasing ammunition. Not that he's ever tried it, but still.
"Hello. Hello? Excuse me-" a voice comes from Sehun's left. He swears there wasn't anyone around him just five minutes ago, and knocks over a row of cans in surprise.
"Shit," he begins to fix the cans, a habit he'd picked up over years of working part-time at a grocery store, and turns to the left. A stranger looks at him with searching eyes. This continues to go on for a few seconds, until Sehun breaks the silence with a terse, "sorry, did you want something?"
The stranger stops for a second, seeming to notice that he was staring, and gives out an awkward chuckle. "Oh, right. Could you please help me get something? It's kind of far behind on the top shelf," the brunette points to a stack of red and blue cans on the row behind them.
"Yeah, sure," he replies. It's odd. Sehun notes the features of the guy in front of him. This guy could've easily reached the stack with just a little bit of effort. It's not like he's that short.
"Have I seen you somewhere before?" the stranger asks. A warning bell goes off in Sehun's head, and he's suddenly hyperaware of the person standing in front of him.
"No, why?" Sehun asks.
"Nothing in particular. I was just wondering if I've seen you in a magazine before or something," the stranger replies. "Not to be creepy or anything. You just look the type."
Sehun feels like water's just stopped a fuse on a stick of dynamite and chuckles. "Unfortunately, no. It's not quite my thing."
* * *
“I’ll leave if I’m causing trouble for you.”
“You’re already causing trouble for me, “ Jongin sighs, “but you can. You know, stay.”
* * *
"And you can't do this yourself because? I'm a busy man, Baekhyu-"
"Shut the fuck up, Kris. I wasn't the one who started all this messed up bullshit in the first place," Baekhyun spits into the receiver.
"Did you know how it felt to have slowly lost your best friend to insanity? To have him fucking beg for you to kill him? How it felt to have to fucking slit his throat because he was about to kill you?" Baekhyun seethes, hand quaking from the tightness of his grip. "No."
"You don't. You hesitated." Baekhyun's voice sounds thick, almost choked, before returning to a more even, albeit forced, tone. "And that's why I'm telling you to do this now. The target's roommate is my friend. I don't want him to go through the living hell I went through. I'm sending you the file now. Don't mess up." He ends the call.
Baekhyun runs a hand through his hair and tugs slightly at the roots. He didn't mean for another outburst to happen. Its just that when he saw the look of horror in Chanyeol's eyes when he had pressed the knife against his throat be replaced by a look of relief that seemed to say "thank you", it felt like a hit to the face.
He'd had to stand there for nearly an hour afterwards, in order to stop quaking at the sight in front of him and to let go of the kitchen knife the other had given him as a birthday present. He could barely process his actions as he'd shakily entered the numbers to Kris's office.
* * *
Sehun takes a sharp left towards an alleyway. Rusty stairwells leading to the black doors of dingy basement residences and spray-painted old brick walls blend into a blur as he runs past. The acrid scent of the pavement combined with the dense summer humidity nearly makes him retch onto the floor.
Jongin's blood had been so vividly red, streaks flowing down on a large gash across his abdomen. It horrified him to think about how he'd imagined the exposed flesh would have tasted on his tongue.
Jongin's eyes were glazed and half-lidded, his hand quivering violently on the floor beside him. A man is crouched beside him, harshly whisper yelling commands into a small black phone. The only words he can make out are "help" and "quickly".
Sehun could barely read the words Jongin mouthed, "Sehun, get away from here, now,"
The sight of his best friend, half-dead and heavily bleeding on the ground is branded into his memory. He shakes his head vehemently. He can't just leave Jongin here, he can't-
Sehun glances down at the other man's hand. Jongin chest heaves with effort as he mouths, and Sehun stiffens.
"They're here for you,"
"Run."
Sehun hesitates at first, but turns around and makes a dash, slightly skidding into the wall in the process. The stench of blood in his nose and the feeling of panic makes him feel as if his chest is pounding, though he knows it isn’t. It won’t, it can’t. Not anymore.
Wrong. This is all wrong.
Sehun wasn't supposed to stay. He wasn't supposed to fall back into routine, he wasn't supposed to drag Jongin into this, he wasn't-
Wrong.
Sehun can hear the sound of footsteps behind him.
* * *
Jongin wakes up to a blankness that gives way to beeping at his side. He blinks, eyes fixing on the bright lights on the ceiling. It smells like antiseptic. He can see the form of a figure to his right. Tousled hair, wrinkled white uniform. Red stain at the sleeve.
"Baekhyun."
Baekhyun stares back at him and gives him a small twitch of the lips upwards. "Hey."
Flash.
They turn at the corner of the old shut down convenience store. Jongin tries walking faster, tugging Sehun's wrist forwards.
It doesn't work.
Flash.
A few whispers in Sehun's ear is enough to inform him of the situation. Jongin manages to convince Sehun split up.
Flash.
Running.
Flash.
His head is pounding. Stranger stops, looks at him in displeasure and angrily calls out in something- into his cellphone. Jongin can see Sehun at the corner.
Static
"I- I got stabbed," Jongin's breath shakes. "I'm at the hospital."
"That's correct."
"Why are you here?"
Baekhyun smooths out the folds on the hospital bed sheet. "I have acquaintances at the hospital- heard you were admitted. Came here to check up on you," he says, eyes following the lines on the white fabric.
“Cut the bullshit, Baekhyun.” Jongin’s voice is hoarse and he sees flickers of black and white when he closes his eyes. He still prefers it to the vivid scarlet from earlier. The silence stretches on. "Is he dead?"
Baekhyun seems to analyze the question before answering. “Jongin, he was already dead in the first place."
He can try to argue against it all he wants to, but he knows Baekhyun’s answer rings true. "Where is he?" Jongin asks.
"Sorry. That's something I don't know. Not right now, at least."
Pairing: Kai/Sehun
Rating: R
Genre: Action(?)
Length:~2500
Summary/Warnings: kris, some gore at the end , swearing, character death, a character has suicidal thoughts, zombies
Mid-may heat makes the fabric of his black tank stick to his skin. The sky is obnoxiously cloudless today. The sun is high above and Sehun has to shield his eyes with his hand- he'd forgotten his sunglasses.
One of the worst heat waves in Seoul in over a century, the news reporters had said. The city had issued a heat warning and even advised people not to go outside. There's not much activity to see around this time of day, especially since it was around noon, when the day's heat was at its peak.
There's been an increase in reports cars overheating recently, and Sehun can't deny that they're true. He'd seen at least four cars overheated in the roads recently. It was risky to get stuck in your car in the midday heat around these parts. On his way to the university a couple of days ago, he'd seen a couple of paramedics bring out someone who fainted from inside a black Sentra. The paramedics didn't look too far off from being in the same state, either. Oddly, though, the passenger, a man with turtle shell glasses, seemed completely unfazed by the heat.
And why was it that he was stuck outside in the unbearable midday heat of Seoul?
Kim Jongin, self-proclaimed future Nobel Prize winner in chemistry. World-class chemical engineering major who constantly seems to forget all his notes on the days with the worst weather possible and usually also when Sehun owes him major favors.
He had to walk for forty minutes in negative thirty-degree weather, before. Now it's thirty minutes in forty-degree weather.
The only person Sehun spots on the streets is a tall, gangly-looking man walking in the opposite direction. The man looks slightly dazed and there’s an oddity in his steps. Probably drunk. Something about him catches Sehun's eye, though. Perhaps it's because he seems strangely familiar.
* * *
The first thing that strikes Sehun is the distinct odor of mildew. The musty cloth draped over him is quite noticeable as well, but not quite as noticeable as the fact that it is pitch black and he's stuck in a space that is quite enclosed. He feels the brush of earth against his fingertips.
Buried. Ha. He's buried.
Panic sets in. He already has no idea how long he's been here for. If he's lucky, he'll have two hours left. Obviously, being lucky isn't one of qualities. Otherwise he wouldn't even be here.
The feeling of earth at his fingertips is still there. It gives Sehun hope.
* * *
When Sehun knocks on the front door of their apartment building it's seven thirty o'clock, or at least what he can determine to be seven thirty o'clock. It's hard to determine exactly what time it is when you haven't a single clock on you. Either way, it's dark enough to warrant that at least it's pretty late. The last of Jongin's classes should have ended hours ago, if he's assumed correctly.
He knocks on the door. Three taps, a bang, a tap. The secret combination he and Jongin had come up with to distinguish each other from the salespeople who'd pass by at least twice a week.
Jongin opens the front door and it's rather obvious how he flinches before regaining his composure, clearing his throat. "Hi. Do you need something?"
"What do you mean, do I need something? I live here. "
Jongin's face twists into a pained expression. "Who are you?"
"What? Jongin, you already know-"
Jongin cuts him off and glares at him. "I don't."
His words are unnecessarily sharp. Sehun glares back, annoyed. "Sehun. I'm Sehun."
"...No."
"No. No. What the fuck, you're dead, I saw your... you can't - you can't be here, what-"
Jongin purses his lips and slams the door.
You're dead.
What the hell? What's Jongin talking about? No, Sehun is not dead. Sehun is very much alive, if he was dead, he'd be lying motionless, buried in a hole deep undergrou-
Fuck.
Sehun stares at the door in front of him. "Jongin, open the door." Sehun bangs harshly on the door panel.
* * *
Sehun stalks up behind Jongin and breathes in.
Traces of mint. Contentedness. Yesterday’s dinner. Early morning coffee. The smells of the living, Sehun realizes, are much different from the smells of the dead. Very… distinct. What others are there? The faint smell of iron, anxiety, fear-
“Sehun, I would highly suggest you get away from my neck.”
Sehun rests his chin on Jongin’s shoulder. Jongin’s knuckles are white. “You don’t trust me? I should be offended, best friend.”
“Not now, I don’t.” Jongin shakes Sehun off his shoulder. “Please move away.”
Sehun leans in and takes another deep breath before pulling away. “Suit yourself.”
* * *
“What is this?” Jongin points to the black, tar-looking substance smeared all over his kitchen counter.
Sehun tugs the hem of his shirt. “Blood? Honestly, I’m not sure that’s what I should call it anymore. Don’t touch it. Sticky stuff.”
“And you just left this on the counter?”
“No, seriously. Water doesn’t work, and your cheap ass cleaner makes it spatter everywhere. See for yourself if you don’t believe me.”
* * *
“What’s it like?”
“What’s what like?”
“You know. The whole zombie thing.”
“I’m not really sure. Um, it’s not much different I guess. I can still talk. And think. The whole people package.”
“Do you want to eat people? Like, brains or something? I’m assuming it’s not bloodlust, because,” Jongin motions in a circle, “Well, neither of us is dead yet. Kind of.”
“It’s not really a bloodlust, it’s more like, um, how do I explain this…”
“Go on?”
“Say there is a cake. This cake looks delicious. This cake smells delicious. This cake probably also tastes really good. I could eat that cake and it would be fantastic, but I don’t need to. Do you get my point.”
“Are you… are you seriously comparing me to a cake right now.”
“Oh my god, Jongin, shut up. I’m trying to explain. And no, I don’t have a preference for brains. I want to eat your arm just as much as I want to eat your head.”
“You want to eat me?” Jongin squeaks.
“I thought we’d already established this,” Sehun sighs, exasperation slipping through.
“You’d better not try to eat me, I swear to god-”
“I told you I wouldn’t! Have you been listening?”
* * *
“You know what the worst part is? I didn’t even have to die. If only that asshole on the road could’ve controlled his fucking actions,” Sehun scoffs, “then I wouldn’t have had to-” he stops, sighing. “I guess there’s no point anymore, is there?”
* * *
Sehun watches from the sofa as a drowsy Jongin half-sleepwalks from the bedroom to the kitchen.
“You left the bedroom door unlocked last night,” Sehun kindly informs him.
“Oh, did I?” Jongin yawns.
“Getting careless, aren’t you? You can die from that, you know. Carelessness killed the cat,” Sehun jokes. “Or was it curiosity? I don’t remember.”
“Second one. And don’t worry,” Jongin says, “won’t happen again. Scouts’ honor,” Jongin raises his hand in mock salute.
But it continues. The next night, the night after, the night after.
* * *
“I could’ve killed you, you know,” The sound of metal on wood is a contrast to the static of the blank tv screen. “You could be dead right now.”
“But I’m not.”
“But you aren’t. I just-” Jongin licks his lips. “I don’t know.”
Sehun turns around, draping himself over the dull beige couch. “Funny. I could say the same thing to you.” He watches Jongin’s grip tighten, then relax.
“But you didn’t.”
“And I won’t. So, it works out.”
* * *
Sehun's picking up the usual in addition to some cans of luncheon meat, Ma Ling for Jongin. He's never understood Jongin's irrational insistence to specifically get the brand. It's all the same, anyway. Spam. Salty, porky, awful muck.
The only thing good about it is that it proves Sehun's superior taste in food and is pretty good Jongin teasing ammunition. Not that he's ever tried it, but still.
"Hello. Hello? Excuse me-" a voice comes from Sehun's left. He swears there wasn't anyone around him just five minutes ago, and knocks over a row of cans in surprise.
"Shit," he begins to fix the cans, a habit he'd picked up over years of working part-time at a grocery store, and turns to the left. A stranger looks at him with searching eyes. This continues to go on for a few seconds, until Sehun breaks the silence with a terse, "sorry, did you want something?"
The stranger stops for a second, seeming to notice that he was staring, and gives out an awkward chuckle. "Oh, right. Could you please help me get something? It's kind of far behind on the top shelf," the brunette points to a stack of red and blue cans on the row behind them.
"Yeah, sure," he replies. It's odd. Sehun notes the features of the guy in front of him. This guy could've easily reached the stack with just a little bit of effort. It's not like he's that short.
"Have I seen you somewhere before?" the stranger asks. A warning bell goes off in Sehun's head, and he's suddenly hyperaware of the person standing in front of him.
"No, why?" Sehun asks.
"Nothing in particular. I was just wondering if I've seen you in a magazine before or something," the stranger replies. "Not to be creepy or anything. You just look the type."
Sehun feels like water's just stopped a fuse on a stick of dynamite and chuckles. "Unfortunately, no. It's not quite my thing."
* * *
“I’ll leave if I’m causing trouble for you.”
“You’re already causing trouble for me, “ Jongin sighs, “but you can. You know, stay.”
* * *
"And you can't do this yourself because? I'm a busy man, Baekhyu-"
"Shut the fuck up, Kris. I wasn't the one who started all this messed up bullshit in the first place," Baekhyun spits into the receiver.
"Did you know how it felt to have slowly lost your best friend to insanity? To have him fucking beg for you to kill him? How it felt to have to fucking slit his throat because he was about to kill you?" Baekhyun seethes, hand quaking from the tightness of his grip. "No."
"You don't. You hesitated." Baekhyun's voice sounds thick, almost choked, before returning to a more even, albeit forced, tone. "And that's why I'm telling you to do this now. The target's roommate is my friend. I don't want him to go through the living hell I went through. I'm sending you the file now. Don't mess up." He ends the call.
Baekhyun runs a hand through his hair and tugs slightly at the roots. He didn't mean for another outburst to happen. Its just that when he saw the look of horror in Chanyeol's eyes when he had pressed the knife against his throat be replaced by a look of relief that seemed to say "thank you", it felt like a hit to the face.
He'd had to stand there for nearly an hour afterwards, in order to stop quaking at the sight in front of him and to let go of the kitchen knife the other had given him as a birthday present. He could barely process his actions as he'd shakily entered the numbers to Kris's office.
* * *
Sehun takes a sharp left towards an alleyway. Rusty stairwells leading to the black doors of dingy basement residences and spray-painted old brick walls blend into a blur as he runs past. The acrid scent of the pavement combined with the dense summer humidity nearly makes him retch onto the floor.
Jongin's blood had been so vividly red, streaks flowing down on a large gash across his abdomen. It horrified him to think about how he'd imagined the exposed flesh would have tasted on his tongue.
Jongin's eyes were glazed and half-lidded, his hand quivering violently on the floor beside him. A man is crouched beside him, harshly whisper yelling commands into a small black phone. The only words he can make out are "help" and "quickly".
Sehun could barely read the words Jongin mouthed, "Sehun, get away from here, now,"
The sight of his best friend, half-dead and heavily bleeding on the ground is branded into his memory. He shakes his head vehemently. He can't just leave Jongin here, he can't-
Sehun glances down at the other man's hand. Jongin chest heaves with effort as he mouths, and Sehun stiffens.
"They're here for you,"
"Run."
Sehun hesitates at first, but turns around and makes a dash, slightly skidding into the wall in the process. The stench of blood in his nose and the feeling of panic makes him feel as if his chest is pounding, though he knows it isn’t. It won’t, it can’t. Not anymore.
Wrong. This is all wrong.
Sehun wasn't supposed to stay. He wasn't supposed to fall back into routine, he wasn't supposed to drag Jongin into this, he wasn't-
Wrong.
Sehun can hear the sound of footsteps behind him.
* * *
Jongin wakes up to a blankness that gives way to beeping at his side. He blinks, eyes fixing on the bright lights on the ceiling. It smells like antiseptic. He can see the form of a figure to his right. Tousled hair, wrinkled white uniform. Red stain at the sleeve.
"Baekhyun."
Baekhyun stares back at him and gives him a small twitch of the lips upwards. "Hey."
Flash.
They turn at the corner of the old shut down convenience store. Jongin tries walking faster, tugging Sehun's wrist forwards.
It doesn't work.
Flash.
A few whispers in Sehun's ear is enough to inform him of the situation. Jongin manages to convince Sehun split up.
Flash.
Running.
Flash.
His head is pounding. Stranger stops, looks at him in displeasure and angrily calls out in something- into his cellphone. Jongin can see Sehun at the corner.
Static
"I- I got stabbed," Jongin's breath shakes. "I'm at the hospital."
"That's correct."
"Why are you here?"
Baekhyun smooths out the folds on the hospital bed sheet. "I have acquaintances at the hospital- heard you were admitted. Came here to check up on you," he says, eyes following the lines on the white fabric.
“Cut the bullshit, Baekhyun.” Jongin’s voice is hoarse and he sees flickers of black and white when he closes his eyes. He still prefers it to the vivid scarlet from earlier. The silence stretches on. "Is he dead?"
Baekhyun seems to analyze the question before answering. “Jongin, he was already dead in the first place."
He can try to argue against it all he wants to, but he knows Baekhyun’s answer rings true. "Where is he?" Jongin asks.
"Sorry. That's something I don't know. Not right now, at least."