⋆.˚⭒⋆ ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ'ꜱ ᴘᴏᴠ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎. . .⋙

[■■■■■■■■■■] 100% ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ.

The night came faster than Wooyoung could've hoped. He spent the day lounging with San, leaning into him, watching the world pass, shutting his mind off until everything fell numb. Mingyu's text lingered like an ominous cloud, threatening and overly tumultuous in its grandeur as Wooyoung waited, watching the clock as if it were a timer to the end of this life.

San didn't pry anymore than he already had, apparently gathering enough information to keep him sated. Wooyoung would rather leave everything else unsaid, giving San permission to silence his thoughts until everything else bled away. This last day, these final moments, were things Wooyoung wouldn't easily let go of. He wasn't sure how he'd ever come back to this, but now, faced with the consequences of the agency that he's more than betrayed, along with the downfall that Yeonjun created, the idea of leaving the safety of the Velvet Mirage felt to be more intimidating than he'd ever let on.

He'd have a few tasks to complete before he'd leave, however. He'd have to shut off the security cameras, gather his things, clean his room and sneak past Mingi, who was likely sitting by the door that led upstairs. Either way, he couldn't linger anymore than he already had. He didn't want Mingyu to come and bring the entire agency here, because regardless of what happened to himself, Wooyoung would never want harm to come to San.

Lying in bed, Wooyoung tilted his head towards San, who had been laying on his back, head tilted away from him, a hand laid against his chest as he breathed deeply. Wooyoung had followed him back here, stealing the breath from his lungs before joining him beneath the warmth of the shower, half-expecting intimacy, but getting something else in return.

San took care of him.

He washed his hair, helped lather his body, placing delicate kisses against his shoulders and the nape of his neck, rinsing the soap from his hair before turning Wooyoung around and kissing the breath from his lungs. Wooyoung didn't want to feel this way, nor did he want to harbor these emotions for San and feel this deeply, but he did. His heart was aching at just the idea of leaving all of this behind, let alone someone who seemed to care for him. But he had to do it. The risks, mainly tainted with the idea of San's potential harm, wasn't worth it. He'd protect San with everything, even if that meant sentencing himself to consequences that the government would bestow onto him.

Carefully, Wooyoung slips himself out of bed, mindful to remain as silent as he could in a hope to not disturb San's slumber. He reaches for his phone before bending at the waist, reaching for his trousers and shirt, slowly beginning to put them back on. His skin was riddled in marks, darkening swells where San's mouth had ravaged him, dappling along the curve of his neck, under the jut of his jaw, dotted along the bare press of his collarbones and chest. He wasn't entirely sure how he'd hide any of this, especially from Yeonjun, but he'd just have to hope that a hoodie would be enough beneath the howl of the moon.

With everything secured, Wooyoung made his way towards San's door, tightening his jaw as he briefly hesitated, hand hovering over top of the handle as he internally fought with the idea of turning to look at him, one more time. But he relents, turning the handle down and exiting the room, closing the door as silently as he could manage. The moment the door clicks shut, he takes a breath, turning down the hall after a brief glance around, moving through the corridor nimbly, eyes scanning past the cameras that lined the hall.

Eventual steps lead him to San's office, opening the doors discreetly, closing them behind him with a subtle click. With a breath, he walks across the space, reaching San's desk, scanning the area for any sign of access to San's computer. Dragging his fingertips along the surface of the desk, Wooyoung kneels down, opening drawers and eyeing the contents inside, chewing on his lip before he finds a button, pushing it inwards before the hum breaks out from behind him.

He turns, watching as the wall begins to lower, bringing forth a view of several monitors, all wearing the sights from the compound, all presented by the feed from the cameras. Raising a brow, Wooyoung scoffs, almost in a jealous, unexpecting way, scanning over each view before finding a control panel residing nearby. The cameras seemed to give San the edge he needed, watching over every single inch of his compound, seeing more than Wooyoung could've ever imagined. He knew that Yeosang had access to these cameras as well, if not slightly less, but in seeing this, in realizing that San observed this compound from the comfort of his own desk, albeit secretly, caused him to have more questions than answers.

What was he watching for? Who was he watching? Did he not trust someone inside of his self-proclaimed family?

Reaching forward, Wooyoung eyes the control panel with a curious eye, looking at the power buttons and different selections of keys on the keypad, inquisitively wondering which switch would turn the cameras off. The power button, it seemed, only controlled the monitors themselves, but the other switches, backlit by LEDs, made him question which one would exactly cut the feed.

But, running low on time, Wooyoung swipes his finger across all of them, watching as not only the monitors flicker, but as the feeds completely pause, remaining still, acting like a brief window in time where Wooyoung could leave without San knowing where he had gone. Assured, Wooyoung shuffled back out of San's office, closing the doors behind him as he trailed towards his own room, continuously glancing over his shoulders to make sure that any prying eyes had been kept tucked away or seemingly elsewhere, leaving him alone in the middle of the night, plotting his escape from a world that he didn't wish to leave behind.

He moves about his space, gathering his duffle bag, opening it on top of his bed as he moves towards the dresser, unpacking every single item of clothing that he had bothered to bring. He tucks it all away, not bothering to fold it or pack it nicely, shoving it all inside until he moves towards his stack of books, his laptop, his electronic chargers and his actual phone, storing it all away inside of the duffle bag without care.

The sting of it, the act of erasing his every memory here, was painful in a way he couldn't describe. He wanted to scream, to confront Mingyu and to ask why he had even bothered to evoke these plans, especially when the government likely hadn't approved of it. This felt personal in a way that Wooyoung couldn't ignore, laden with something deeper, something darker. Mingyu was up to something, hiding beneath the guise of what had been morally right in comparison to what he had actually been flirting with. He was delving into the dark web, dipping his feet into pools of abysmal water, hoping that the promise of money would hide the scandalous world he was climbing into, even with a government badge glued with his name engraved within it.

It wasn't sitting right with Wooyooung, especially not after realizing that San's business, along with the way he had done things, wasn't entirely all that bad. Maybe he was oblivious, perhaps diluted by everything that he had now shared with San, but that didn't sway his opinion. The government was up to something criminal, and for the first time in a long time, Wooyoung began to question the ideals of an agency that he used to look up to and respect. Though, now, the lines felt more than just blurred. It was stark, a complete shift of tectonic plates that felt as electric as someone touching a live shock wire. Wooyoung's heart wasn't in it anymore, and it never had been.

He was stuck hoping that everything he witnessed would simply grow to be better, hidden beneath a wave of blood and gunpowder. But it never had. They continued to kill for the sake of it, drinking to celebrate, being congratulated with a pat on the shoulder and a round of catered goods, all while Wooyoung sat back and watched, wondering how he could've ever trusted the very males that seemed to turn their back on him now?

He didn't know how Scoups, Jeonghan or even Mingyu's husband, Wonwoo, felt, not that his opinion mattered much anyway. But they were all working together, along with Yeonjun, conspiring to either extract Wooyoung by force and kill everyone within this compound, or to arrest Wooyoung the moment they saw him.

But it didn't matter. He had to walk away. He couldn't risk San getting hurt just because of his own stupid, delusional feelings. Maybe San felt the same way, maybe he didn't. Maybe they were just a fling, a series of one-night-stands all for the sake of something mutual. Wooyoung didn't know what San felt, and it was likely left better that way. Knowing might only make all of this harder, and Wooyoung knew he might never leave if San spoke from a single utterance of his own secret, personal feelings.

With everything packed away, Wooyoung reached for the discarded hoodie that lay on his desk chair, tugging it over his torso before slinging his bag over his shoulder, taking a breath inwards as he looked around the room. There was no trace of him left.

The bed was made, the drawers closed, the dresser cleaned; everything was packed away and missing, removing any remnants of the life he once shared here. Without wasting one more second, Wooyoung made his way out of the bedroom, closing the door with what felt like a definitive, final click, beginning to separate himself from the world he had to forget.

The corridor was still; sterile, almost. It was hard to fathom how a compound such as this could be so quiet in the depth of night, even with an array of elitists and delinquents, ranging from wet workers and drivers, all the way down to security and hackers. It felt like home, in some weird way, not the same intimidating, cryptic facade that Wooyoung had once thought of it to be.

Each and every step was lonely, filled with a long line of regret that he couldn't shake. It was heavy, worn like a cloak, a heavy cast that dampened the ache of determination that wove itself deep. He wanted to abandon this plan, to tell San the truth, to expose himself and everything that he's been keeping locked away on his devices, but he knew that San would kick him out anyway. Either way, to tell the truth and stay, or to leave and spare San the heartbreak, it all ended with negative consequences. So in Wooyoung's mind, keeping the details out and leaving, was easier than everything else.

Though, as he crosses the doorway to San's bedroom, he pauses, his jaw tightening, heart breaking in an unfamiliar way. He looks at the wood of the door, tracing his eyes along the rim of the doorframe all the way down to the handle of the door, feeling an urge pass over his skin in a way he couldn't name. So, he sets his bag down, curling his fingers around the handle, turning it down until he pulls the door towards him, peering inside with the door slowly pulled ajar.

The light shone into the room subtly, cast across his bed and blankets, just barely missing the pillows where San's head lay. He looked at peace, calm and lost in an abyss of sleep that seemed to cradle him delicately. Though, as Wooyoung looked at him, he only then noticed that San's hand was extended out, palm face-down, resting on the spot that Wooyoung had abandoned minutes ago. It was almost as if he was silently reaching for him, seeking the warmth that had been once pooled on the right side of the mattress, though there wasn't anything there. It was just an empty space, cold and devoid of someone he apparently was searching for.

Stepping closer, Wooyoung stopped on San's side of the bed, tracing his eyes over the bare skin that wasn't quite hidden beneath the warmth of the duvet. His bare chest, covered in scars and tattoos, all parts of a body that Wooyoung had come to know so graciously. San was more than just a ruthless kingpin, a monster created by greed and blood. He was softer than that, caring and considerate in a way that not every man was. He was genuine, protective and warm, things that Yeonjun had never been. Wooyoung couldn't help but feel deeper things for San, things that evolved into a word that he really didn't wish to name. San had specifically said that he was terrified of anyone growing close to him again, weighed down by the idea that his enemies would capture the one he loved most before murdering them, wounding him in a way that no bullet could truly penetrate. Wooyoung knew that San wouldn't ever love him because of that simple idea, that simple fear that seemed to take San's desires by the throat and squeeze, leaving him breathless and aching for air. Wooyoung wouldn't say anything, nor would he move to make the male realize that he could protect him too, to blend into a force that couldn't only just tackle his parents, but possibly the entire government.

It was a distant dream, a fickle hope that Wooyoung let swirl down the drain beneath the steam of his shower, washing away everything he ever wanted or even remotely entertained the idea of, all for the sake of his lonely, bleeding heart. But, seeing San now, quiet and enhanced by the cusp of sleep, he finds himself wondering why he even did this to himself.

Why would he allow this man to work his way into his heart? Why would he feed into it? Why would he even bother to entertain the feelings that began to drive him crazy?

But, he was leaning down before he knew it. He used the tip of his finger to brush San's hair away from his eyes before leaning closer, holding his breath as he listened to each deep exhale escape San's lips. His head was turned to the side, one hand on his chest, the other searching for a missing partner in his bed, leaving Wooyoung to give in to his emotions one more time.

He closes his eyes, feeling his jaw tighten as the threat of tears loom ever closer, letting his lips grace the delicate skin of San's temple. He lingers, softly and carefully pulling away, the warm press of San's skin against his lips a ghastly reminder of everything he had done, and everything he was leaving behind.

He turns, standing up straight, nearly about to leave before he feels a warm wrap of fingers curl around his wrist. He pauses, eyes widening as he turns back around, watching as San blinks away the haze of sleep that had once held him hostage.

"Woo–?" He asks huskily, turning slightly as he tries to look up at the male that was still standing at the side of his bed. "Why aren't you in bed?"

Wooyoung bites his tongue, watching as San blearily tries to wake up, though seems rather unable to. "Couldn't sleep."

Assured, San rests back down, letting a deep breath roll through his lungs as he relents, letting his eyes close once more.

"Okay," he mutters, his fingers still wrapped around Wooyoung's wrist, though growing more and more lax as time bleeds on. "Just. . . take care of yourself, okay?"

"I'm fine, San–"

"No, you're not," San comments, taking another smaller, though deep breath. "You need to rest. . . I worry about you."

Wooyoung looks away, biting his lip, his opposite hand clenched into a fist with his nails digging into his palm as he tried to push his tears away, but he felt them curl over anyway.

"You're not taking care of yourself, Wooyoung," San says, his voice growing more quiet. "And that scares me."

Turning back around, Wooyoung finds himself staring at San as the male slowly begins to tumble back into the throes of sleep, clearly losing the battle against fighting for coherency. But Wooyoung didn't want him to wake up, not completely, anyway. He wanted him to sleep, to forget about all of this, to find peace in the comfort of his own room once more before Wooyoung would go and destroy everything above ground. But San didn't have to know that. San could remain oblivious and wondering, just as long as he was safe. Truly, that was all that mattered.

But San cared, so genuinely and apparently brazenly, admitting to how worried he was over Wooyoung's insomnia that the words seamlessly breezed past his lips in an utterance that was unlike him. Yet, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

So, Wooyoung gives in, one more time.

He leans back down, pulling his wrist free of San's grasp to delicately frame the side of San's face, brushing his thumb across his cheek. The tears that marred Wooyoung's cheeks now paused, eyes focusing on the male that he so deeply cared for, yet could never have. But he relents, giving in to a kiss that felt like an ending. He poured everything into it, everything that he had and would have said, blurred between the lines of a kiss that would truly end everything they had shared. No more intimacy, no more shared conversations and longing glances across the room. No more escapades and secret showers together. No more them. No more comfort.

San, albeit sleepily, returned the kiss, waking up just enough to wrap his hand around the back of Wooyoung's neck, returning the unknown affirmations in a way that made Wooyoung's heart crack and melt all at once. He was in pain, giving away this part of himself, abandoning this piece of his heart in the hope that it'd keep San safe. And it'd be worth it, if that were the case.

Wooyoung didn't care about what would happen to him, just as long as San could escape the clutches of a corrupt government agency.

Breaking apart, Wooyoung listened for the faintest trace of sound from San's lips, half-expecting him to say something, rather anything, but instead, all he finds is the slight curl of a sleepy smile against the male's lips. San's hand retreats, his head sinking back down into the pillow as he tilts back over into dreamland, incoherent, yet seemingly now at peace.

Wooyoung argues with himself internally, biting his lips as he avoids saying the things he wished to before turning, not once bothering to look back over his shoulder. He knew that if he had, he'd give in, and find himself wrapped up in the comfort of San's bed, aching to be a part of his warmth. So he leaves, even if it hurts to do so.

Making his way out of San's room, Wooyoung grabbed his bag, slinging the strap over his shoulder, glancing both ways before walking down the hall. He reached a hand up, brushing his tears away with the back of his hand as he carefully creeped around the corner, hearing the subtle hums of quiet laughter and mumbled conversation.

Yunho and Mingi, both head positions of security and gun control, seemed overly lax with a bottle of whiskey between them, cuddled close on the sofa, apparently too pleased with the giggles and comments they made towards one another. Wooyoung observed them for a moment, unabashed and proud, smothering one another in a display of affection that Wooyoung hadn't noticed between them before. Maybe they were too tipsy to care, or maybe Wooyoung just hadn't paid enough attention. But as they were, they seemed overly pleased, happy and content, finding a moment of levity even amidst the life they shared.

Turning away, Wooyoung quietly strolled towards the staircase, his hand gripping the railing, listening to the hum of the compound, swallowed by the giggles and teasing sound of Yunho's voice, muffling out his desire to turn around and get into bed with San. He heads up, one step at a time, racing to the top before he pauses, his chest heaving as his heart aches with betrayal. But he opens the door, exiting the compound, closing the door behind him before searching the space around him, eyeing the familiar walls and boxes that laid nearby, unsure if he'd ever see this part of the Velvet Mirage ever again.

He walks back through the storage space, through the vacant rooms until he found his way back outside. He knew that the cameras were on outside, as he'd have no control over the ones Hyunjin, the casino's security guard, watched over like a hawk. But he'd have to risk it, because there was no choice anymore. He had to leave. He had to return to the agency, to his home, and to the people he wasn't sure he could trust anymore.

So, he heads outside, pushing the door open and allowing his steps to quickly rush him through the parking lot. It was the depth of night, overcast by the haze of clouds that hid the howling moon, the parking lot lights flooding the puddled asphalt beneath Wooyoung's converse. Every step echoed as he walked faster, approaching the gate that led to the private part of the parking lot, tossing his bag over before hoisting himself up, climbing over top and landing with a muffled grunt, reaching for his bag as he continued to walk through a slightly crowded parking lot.

People passed by, laughing and inebriated, carrying money or crying about losing it all, betting on red or black in a game of fifty-fifty, rolling the dice in a chance for a dream to make millions. Wooyoung wished for his life to be as simple as that, to gamble away his money and cry about the outcome, whether happy or sad, but instead, here he was, crying over a man he wasn't even supposed to love.

He buried it all down either way, forcing the stoic, professional, numb-like expression over his face as he walked, brushing past everyone before he tugged his hood over his head, feeling the strands of his messy hair move beneath the shove of his hood. Wooyoung folded his arms against his chest, strolling down the sidewalk as he leaves the Velvet Mirage behind, looking down at the pavement as cars and cabs moved about on the road to his left, the hums of engines somehow overpowering the chaos erupting inside of his mind.

His heart was hurting, but he didn't wish to acknowledge it. He could walk away, force it all down, practiced and poised just as he had been taught, looming back into the state of mind that he adopted all those years ago.

Abandon all feelings, avoid all emotions, stick to everything that you know, and once you do, everything else will align into focus. Your desires and intentions, mingled with duty and respect; it will all come to the forefront.

It didn't feel that way, though. It was a lot more hollow, holding on to the hope that these memories, all of those kisses and touches, the words and murmurs of promises; that they'd simply disappear. They wouldn't. Not by a long shot. But he'd have to pretend that they had. Yeonjun would be suspicious and questioning, searching for a reason to accuse Wooyoung of anything and everything, even though he had all the right to. But, as far as Wooyoung was concerned, he'd gather his belongings, put in his immediate notice at the agency, and leave Seoul behind without bothering to blink. He didn't want his relationship anymore, nor did he want his job and his friends; he just wanted peace and freedom, space away from everything that made this city as suffocating as it felt.

But just as he sought to clear his mind of every single burrowing thought, his phone vibrates, causing his heart to nearly seize and drop out of his chest. He reaches for it, pulling it free, hesitating on the notification for a moment before looking down.

Mingyu

Green light?

Wooyoung sighs, almost in relief, worrying that San or someone else from the cartel had been texting him, but it was just his boss. Per usual.

Green light.

Wooyoung puts his phone away, sliding the device into his pocket as he quickly walks through the city's streets, allowing the gentle breeze of the night to guide him towards the location of his extraction. He'd go back home, get away from all of these messy, slaughtering feelings, and finally just be. No more worrying, no more longing, and most importantly, no more pressure laying atop his shoulders.

The familiar gas station appeared before he could react, the green and yellow logo beaming brightly from the neon sign that loomed over the city, coloring the asphalt in an array of colors that seemed to bleed into the puddles. Wooyoung hesitated, placing his hands into his pockets before relenting again, looking both ways before crossing the street, jogging across the road as he reached the perimeter of the gas station's inner convenience store. The parking lot was empty, save for the hum of the ice machines outside and the lights keeping the entire facility lit. Cigarette butts lined the pavement, half-used and abandoned, near the trash cans or pooled near the crushed beer cans that laid adjacent everywhere else. Wooyoung kicked a can with his shoe, listening to it rattling against the concrete, trailing his eyes upward until he turned the corner, heading towards the back alley. It was quiet, dark and completely void of anyone's presence, leaving him alone with the thoughts that threatened to consume him.

Though, it wasn't long before the beam of headlights broke his reverie. He turned, raising a brow as the car came to a halt, the engine still alive as the driver's door swung open, revealing the face of someone he hadn't expected. Yeonjun.

This wasn't what they agreed to. Mingyu, all those weeks ago, said he'd be the one to come and get him, to make sure that the extraction went without issue. Yeonjun held a conflict of interests, though possibly reasonable, Mingyu didn't want his feelings or their relationship to get in the way of any other details. However. . . Mingyu wasn't anywhere in sight.

"Yeonjun–" Wooyoung breathed out, his guard dropping, fingers growing lax around the strap on his shoulder as he held onto it, almost as if the motion would ground him against every emotion that raged forth.

"Nice for you to finally come back," Yeonjun greets, leaving his car door open, rounding the front of his vehicle before stopping, his posture completely defensive and not friendly at all. "Did he finally get tired of you? Throw you out, abandon you in the way that you abandoned me?"

"Yeonjun, that's not what happened–"

"Then tell me what the fuck happened, Woo!" Yeonjun yelled, taking a half-step closer, raising his hand as he pointed a threatening finger towards his estranged partner. "We were together, in this shit for life, watching one another's backs as if the entire world was against us. But you lied. You went on one fucking mission and came back like a heart-broken whore."

Wooyoung parts his lips to speak, but Yeonjun shakes his head, a manic-sounding laugh ripping through his chest, his head dipping down as he turns, pacing in front of his car.

"I can't fucking believe you, Wooyoung. You were the most intelligent person that I had ever known. I looked up to you, and more than that–" he stops, gazing at Wooyoung with a terrifyingly odd smirk, unraveling a chord of unease through every inch of Wooyoung's spine. "I loved you. I love every part of you, and you just don't give a single shit. I gave you everything, every single part of my heart and my home, I allowed you to harbor in a space that I had bought on my own, helped guide you through paperwork, stayed after hours for you all the time when I could've just gone home."

"Yeonjun, I didn't mean for all of this–"

"You didn't?" Yeonjun asks, his brows slightly furrowing. "What the fuck are all of those bruises on your neck, Wooyoung? Why are you covered in fucking hickeys? I meant so much to you, right? So much that you'd go behind my back and fuck the enemy?"

"Yeonjun–"

"Just stop talking!" He yells, brushing a hand through his hair before he laughs again, almost dramatically, his voice tinged with frustration and anger, a palpable tension that made Wooyoung's chest tighten. "You ruined us. Every single facet of us. And for what? That fucking monster of a human being that you were supposed to kill?!"

Wooyoung shook his head, eyes brimming with the tears he tried to avoid, but Yeonjun raised a brow, apparently unimpressed.

"You sit here and you cry, pretending that you cared about me, but all of that went away the moment that you stopped caring about our relationship and fucked him, Wooyoung. You cheated. You lied. You might be a master manipulator, but you're a fucking coward."

"Yeonjun–" Wooyoung began shakily, shaking his head, raising a hand in a plea. "It all got so complicated. It was so hard being by myself, to experience all of that and to be isolated. . . I just. . . I got confused and I–"

Yeonjun looked away, his jaw tightening.

"I did. I did cheat. But after the way you spoke to me, I broke it off with you, Yeonjun. You had no right to treat me like I was nothing, a piece of garbage that you could berate and toss away just because you were just as frustrated as I was. I was planted into a situation that I wasn't prepared for, and I would bet so much fucking money that no one else could've dealt with it either." Wooyoung looks down, biting his tongue, knowing that he was saying far too much. "But I'm here. I left. I came back because I had a duty, didn't I?"

Yeonjun is quiet, his gaze, once avoidant, now trailed upwards to glare at Wooyoung. He was studying him, assessing his every word, brows slightly furrowed before pinching together, a sudden resolve melting into his skin. But before Wooyoung could react, Yeonjun reached behind him, pulling out a jet-black pistol, flicking off the safety as he pointed the gun at Wooyoung.

"Fuck you," he sneers, his hand slightly trembling, though the look on his face was anything but forgiving. He was furious, completely gone into his state of hate, consumed by a rage that Wooyoung hadn't quite grasped. "I hate you, Wooyoung. I can't stand that I love you when I want to just fucking kill you–!"

"Yeonjun, please–" Wooyoung says, his eyes wide with sudden fear, holding his hands up. "You're not thinking straight. I need you to listen to me–"

"So you can what? LIE TO ME AGAIN!?" Yeonjun's voice was a roar, a complete nuclear meltdown of emotions that came as a consequence of Wooyoung's actions. "I'm done listening to you talk, Wooyoung. In fact, I–" he pauses, adjusting his grip on the gun. "I never want to see your face again."

"Yeonjun, don't–!"

A loud crack of noise bounces off the wall in the alley, pulled from the trigger being slung back, allowing a bullet to erupt from the chamber as not only one bullet fires off, but another follows.

The alley grew quiet, met with the slight scent of gunpowder and freshly pooled blood. The moon was quiet now, hidden beneath the fog of clouds, whispering in a plea for someone to save him.

But Wooyoung was alone. He abandoned everyone that cared about him with an irrational fear, listening as the hum of a car fled the scene with screeching tires, leaving his vision to blur and his breaths to eventually slow.