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The door clicks as it swings shut behind him, and Jeonghan turns the lock before slipping his lock picks back into his coat. The night is cold and clear, with the moon in all its crescentic glory hanging unhidden in the sky. It's late so the town has wound down, is peaceful and quiet except for the sounds of the celebration happening a few floors below him, filtering out into the air through the gaps of slightly opened windows.
Jeonghan puts the smoke between his lips, cups a hand around it to shield it from the wind as he lights it and takes his first breath, feeling the chemicals burn as the smoke travels down his throat. The niggling itch in his head disappears almost immediately, and a tension he didn't know was present in him melts away. The packet rattles lightly when he pockets them again; he wonders how many he has left, if he can get away from his partner long enough to hide his need to buy more.
He's just solved his first big case in a while, though, the first with his new partner, so Jeonghan just lets go and allows his mind to wander, enjoys the view offered by being on the roof of one of the tallest buildings in the town. He ignores the sound of the doorknob rattling as someone tries to open it from the other side and lets himself relax, feeling the stretch in his lungs as he fills them with more smoke.
There's a creak as the door swings open on its ancient hinges. "Don't lock it again right after you pick it," complains Seokmin, fumbling with his own picks. Jeonghan just laughs and takes another drag.
From here, the little pinpoints of light in the town look exactly like the little pinpoints of lights above in the sky. Jeonghan squints a little to blur them together. If there was a heaven, maybe it could look like this, with the same lights and the same people and the same view.
The spicy, bitter taste of the medicine runs over Jeonghan's tongue as he exhales. His mind feels clear, his thoughts sharp. "It's good practice," he says finally, turning with a grin.
The wind blows the filthy smoke into Seokmin's face but he doesn't complain, just wrinkles his nose and tries to cough discreetly into his hand.
It's a chilly night. Jeonghan enjoys the touch of the cold on his flushed cheeks, the breeze moving through his hair, the music coming faintly from downstairs, the dark view of a town so much bigger than he was.
"The party's barely started," says Seokmin, coming up on his right, upwind of his smoke. He pauses, then continues, "Or has it really gotten so bad that you feel like you needed one again so soon?"
Jeonghan shrugs nonchalantly. "Felt a little weird to celebrate after all the murdered people we saw," he lies, "so I came up here. I used to come up here a lot when I was younger, so it was nice."
Seokmin takes the bait. "With Seungkwan?"
"Mmhm. Back when we were still rookie detectives training here. We always talked about finding the key for the roof to get access, but then we were taught to pick locks, and, well. We ended up picking the lock."
It was a fond memory, running up the stairs to the roof with Seungkwan, bragging about who would get it open first and laughing at each other when they failed to open the door time and time again. It was the perfect place to have lunch together when the weather was good, and nobody ever bothered them once they remembered to lock the door behind them.
The end of his smoke glows brightly as Jeonghan inhales, drifting through older memories. The orange light blends in with the other lights of the town, spread out below. He hadn't come up here since Seungkwan had died.
"But we were talking about… that," says Seokmin, a tad awkwardly, gesturing towards Jeonghan's smoke and then anxiously clasping his hands in front of himself before shifting his weight to his other leg. Jeonghan smiles despite himself, angling his head away slightly so that Seokmin doesn't see.
Seokmin's getting sharper. Or perhaps Jeonghan's just deteriorated more than he thought.
"What is there to talk about? I've told you everything you need to know. Name of the disease, it's incurable and can only be slowed, don't try to use my smokes because they'll destroy your lungs pretty fast but for me my mind will go first, you're allowed to quit working with me if it bothers you, make me have a smoke if I start not making sense or staring at something for too long."
Seokmin winces, fiddles with his hands. Jeonghan gives him space, taps the ash off his smoke and waits. It feels right, in a strange way, to have this conversation with him here on this roof.
"Don't you… aren't you afraid? You can talk to me about it, you don't need to protect me. If you're scared or need something, tell me about it. I'm strong enough."
A car turns into a driveway below them, headlights shining brightly. Jeonghan watches Seokmin's hands fist out of the corner of his eye and stubs his smoke out on the concrete wall surrounding the roof before slipping it into his pocket to dispose of later.
"Or do you think I'm still not enough? I know I'm just a rookie, that I'm not as good as you, that I can't even begin to measure up as a partner to someone like Seungkwan. But if I'm not enough, tell me where I'm lacking, tell me what I can do to fix it. Tell me what I need to do so that you'll let me support you like I should be doing." He looks so very small and so very young like this, with his eyes facing down and the soft, sad set of his mouth.
"Look at me," says Jeonghan, turning to put his hands on Seokmin's shoulders. His partner is young and unsure, but he meets Jeonghan's eyes steadily and with resolve.
"I won't compare you with Seungkwan, because he had many, many more years of experience in which to grow, and because your strengths lie in different areas. It's not fair to compare you, especially not when I'd known Seungkwan since childhood.
"I don't think you're too weak or that you're not good enough at all. I think you're amazing and smart and ready and as strong as you need to be. You're definitely more than enough, and I am proud to call you my partner."
Seokmin's shoulders are trembling a little under the palms of Jeonghan's hands.
"Am I afraid? Sort of. It messes with your head when you don't know if your thoughts are rational and logical because you've got a disease that screws with your thinking, one that'll eventually erase who you are as a person in the end. But for now, I'm okay."
Jeonghan claps Seokmin on the shoulder and ruffles his hair, fondly.
"And I promise that if it gets too hard, the first person I'll tell will be you."
Seokmin closes his eyes. "Why am I being protected by you, even though you're the one who's dying?"
Jeonghan laughs. "It's my privilege as your mentor. Enjoy it while it lasts. One day, you'll have to protect someone else." He lets Seokmin move forward to wrap his arms around him and bury his head in his shoulder, which probably reeks of the same scent of bitterness and spice that his smokes do. Jeonghan doesn't smell like anything else, these days.
He pats Seokmin on the shoulder reassuringly, brushes his fingers gently through the back of Seokmin's hair when he only hugs tighter. Jeonghan almost wishes he would leave, would divorce himself of Jeonghan and this situation before it worsens like it inevitably will.
"The party's still happening downstairs. There were still slices left of that disgusting anchovy pizza you like so much when I came up," mumbles Seokmin finally, muffled by Jeonghan's shoulder.
Jeonghan smiles a little and nods. He lets Seokmin walk in back into the building first and shuts the door to the roof behind them with a soft click.