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Sungyeol’s bangs are sweaty and fall into the eyeholes on his mask. He listens to the blood dripping down his temple, slipping down the cool leather and falling onto the pavement, it falls into a sick kind of rhythm with his racing heart. It sounds like one of those cryptic bathroom scenes, the ones where water drips down his hair into the sink basin, except this is blood – not water.
A large chunk of his Kagune lays at the officer’s feet – it was severed from his body. One of his four tails lays limp on the asphalt where he collapsed and blood flows out like a river. It pools at his feet and if he takes a step, it splashes like water and soaks into his socks; it gets so deep that it’s like a puddle. The kind you jump in and splash around and swish up at your friends and laugh when it soaks through their clothes. The kind of puddles you jump in when you’re young and happy and have nothing to worry about but memorizing the times table and learning how to spell the word home.
It’s pretty ironic, Sungyeol thinks, that he’s making these kinds of comparisons while sitting in a pool of his own blood when he’s never experienced anything like them. You really don’t need to spell home when you don’t have one anyway.
Sungyeol narrows his eyes (not that the other man can tell, through his mask) and curses under his breath when he recognizes that piercing stare. Lee Howon. One of the most classified investigators for his age. Climbed up the ladder with no academy training. Also sits two feet in front of Sungyeol in his history class. He’s also one of Sungyeol’s closest friends.
Sungyeol doesn’t want to speak; afraid Howon will recognize his voice. Out of sheer hope that he’ll live. That if he doesn’t die of blood loss first, Howon won’t kill him. But Howon is a reputable member of the CCG. Sungyeol’s just your average old ghoul. Howon’s knuckles are pale and white, clenched so hard around his Quinque Sungyeol can trace the veins in his fingers with his eyes. There’s a deep red stain on Howon’s left side and it’s leaking at his feet. Sungyeol sees that his teeth are clenched tightly together and he’s trying to push off the pain and his grip around his Quinque tightens (Sungyeol thought that was impossible).
A little piece of Sungyeol wonders what Howon would do if he knew who was hiding beneath the cool leather, what would he do if he knew that he was trying to mercilessly kill the same Lee Sungyeol that let him borrow his last pencil and gave him hell for it this morning?
Blood drips down Howon’s stomach and trails the side of his leg and creates a trail down his sock until it hits pavement. It isn’t nearly spilling out as fast as it is out of Sungyeol’s severed Kagune, nowhere near the size of a rain puddle. Howon narrows his eyes and stretches out his Quinque like a whip, it shimmers in the moonlight and Sungyeol makes up pretty red stripes that swirl into white and thinks it’s convenient for hiding blood stains. It’s definitely a Bikaku type, which explains why Sungyeol’s Rinkaku nature is especially weak against it. “So,” Howon sneers and spits a bit of blood out with his words, it gives Sungyeol a bit of satisfaction, “You’re quite the fighter, Rinkaku,” he spits the word at him as if Sungyeol can help that he’s this way – as if it’s his fault he’s been forced into this kind of life. “But it looks like your time is up,”
Sungyeol tries to make his voice an octave deeper and attempts to make his little lisp unnoticeable (Howon called it cute – once when Myungsoo gave him shit for it sounding dumb and Sungyeol is still grateful for that, even if Howon is probably going to kill him) “At least make it snappy, won’t you?” He snarls, “Isn’t that protocol for you? Least amount of pain possible? Well, bleeding to death is really fucking painful,”
Howon strings out his Quinque and it stretches high above his broad shoulders and Sungyeol’s heart pounds against his rib cage. Howon twists his wrist and Sungyeol’s ears roar with the sound it makes as it swishes through the air and comes soaring down. He screws his eyes shut beneath his mask and waits to be sliced in half. He waits to feel pain shoot through his body and his small little blood puddle to become an ocean and he waits to hear his mother singing his favorite lullaby and he waits until he can feel his father’s fingers ruffle his hair and he waits to feel his little brother tugging on his Kagune and he waits so long that he begins to cry.
The Quinque touches the tip of his head so softly that it feels welcoming, it feels warm. It so gingerly grazes the tip of his hair that Sungyeol wants to lean in further and curl up against the warmth of a fellow ghoul and cry. He doesn’t do that. But he does curl up. He ignores the throbbing pain in his sliced Kagune and curls his knees up against his chest and starts to cry. He thinks that one of his closest friends is going to kill them – the same friend that bought him coffee every day and crashed on his couch and brought him roses on his mother’s death anniversary. The Quinque still hovers above his head and sobs make Sungyeol shake and his fingers dig into his own flesh and he can feel blood on his own fingers. He feels the sticky substance moving over his hands and he chokes on his own tears and he shakes and whimpers and he’s a mess. He thinks of Sunggyu telling him if this day should ever come – he should at least go down with dignity, but all Sungyeol can do is cry.
The Quinque above his head falters, it shakes, and then it tumbles. It lightly bumps the tip of his head until it slips off and lays limp at his side. Sungyeol doesn’t look up though. He doesn’t speak either. He only pulls his knees tighter against his chests until they dig into his ribs in a way that will hopefully make them pierce his heart and kill himself. He’d rather die in his own hands than at the hands of a CCG. He’d rather kill himself then make Howon do it. “You…haven’t ever killed anyone before, have you?” Howon says it quietly, his voice is a whisper and it’s only because of the wind that carries it over that Sungyeol hears. “You didn’t put up a good fight. You seemed pretty…inexperienced.”
Sungyeol forgets about hiding his voice and maybe it’s the adrenaline pumping into his brain that fuels his insanity. But it isn’t really insanity, maybe Sungyeol’s finally turning a little bit sane. He unzips the back of his mask and lets it fall into the pool of blood with a splash that makes droplets hit his cheeks and he smears them across his face when he tries to wipe them away. He looks up and meets Howon’s startled eyes. “I’ve never killed a human in my life – I get my food another way.”
Sungyeol watches Howon’s hand quiver and he watches him swallow nervously and waits for him to lash out. He waits for him to scream in a frenzy and kill him ruthlessly and to snap his neck because they were friends. The Quinque falls from Howon’s hands and splashes into the puddle next to Sungyeol’s mask and blood soaks his hair. “You should probably run.” Howon tells him nonchalantly – he sinks to the floor slowly and crosses his legs Indian style. He crosses his arms in his lap and Sungyeol can see tears pricking at the corner of his eyes in the moonlight.
“I wouldn’t make it very far.” Sungyeol retaliates. “Do me a favor and tell Woohyun he’s an idiot though, and tell Myungsoo that it was you, he already knows that –“
“I’m not going to kill you, Sungyeol.” Howon lets out an exasperated sigh and Sungyeol’s words die in his throat. Howon runs a shaky hand through his hair and Sungyeol can see his face paling – the blood loss is finally catching up with him even if the drip was slow. “I…can’t kill you.”
Sungyeol goes back to listening the blood drip down his face. This time he feels it slip down his cheeks and it feels stick against his skin. It drips down his eyes and over his nose and the scent is thick in his nostrils. It drips into the puddle at a faster rate. Sungyeol pulls his knees from his chest and sits cross-legged too. The blood is up to his knees in this position and if he wasn’t a ghoul, Sungyeol would be dead by now. Even so, it won’t be very long. The tears still threaten to spill at the thought of death, they still make his heart shake with fear and his throat close up and Sungyeol sucks in a large breath of air and chokes on it. Howon flinches and looks like he’s about to come running – but he doesn’t. Of course not. “Did you know?”
“I…was suspicious,” He admitted lamely, “I’d never seen you drink anything but coffee, and you barely ate a thing. But you’re a scrawny little rat so I figured that just made sense…but still. It was my duty to be suspicious. But then…” Howon pauses and looks directly into Sungyeol’s eyes, his features soften and he smiles softly. “But then you became my friend. And even though I really knew, I pretended not to, since you didn’t seem to have a problem with it.” Howon’s cheeks would probably be red if he hadn’t lost too much blood, Sungyeol thinks. “But anyways, you really outta run.”
“You should too,” Sungyeol tosses him a hint of a smile, his lips tug slightly but not quite enough that it reaches his eyes like usual, not quite enough that it shows off his gums in a way that always makes Howon snort because it makes him look dumb. “You lost too much blood, I healed slightly. We’re kind of even now.”
“I can’t kill you.” Howon says again in a whimper, but he pauses and says it more firmly, “I can’t kill you.”
Sungyeol is quiet for a second and whispers under his breath, “I can’t kill you either.” It isn’t just because Sungyeol hasn’t killed before. It isn’t just because he can’t stand the idea of his Kagune ripping through flesh to inhale the putrid smell of blood into his nostrils and it sure as hell isn’t just because he doesn’t want to feel himself go crazy with the smell and devour one of his closest friends until he’s nothing but a pile of bones left after a dog chewed him all up and spit out the remains. It isn’t just Sungyeol clinging to his sanity.
“It’s because I’m your friend,” Howon voices out for him and Sungyeol nods and his hint of a smile grows – it still isn’t the full-faced one Howon is used to, but it’s enough to make him toss his own tiny smile back. “I’m not going to kill you.” Howon says again and Sungyeol opens his mouth to tease him about it – almost forgetting the situation they’re trapped in – but Howon continues before he gets a chance to open his mouth, “I’m not going to kill you and I’m not going to leave you to die,”
Sungyeol is quiet for a moment. He lets Howon’s words sink in and he almost laughs. He almost laughs because he’s probably going crazy (really, he’s becoming sane) and he realizes he was stupid for even talking to Howon to begin with. It’s the reason that he’s alive right now and sucking in every breath he can to keep it that way; that his wounds are healing painfully slow because he hasn’t eaten in a while and that if it wasn’t this way, if he’d never said a word, and if had Howon really tried to kill him, he’d be dead in a heartbeat. And Sungyeol thinks it’d be better off that way. They wouldn’t be sitting here, spilling out a heart to heart like this. Sungyeol is sure someone has to die tonight. “They’ll come looking for you,” he thinks that Sunggyu will come looking for him. “Someone’s going to come for you – and me too, eventually,” He prays Sunggyu will make it in time. “Someone has to leave.” Sungyeol doesn’t voice out the or someone has to die. But he knows Howon is thinking it all the same.
“I don’t want to leave.” You.
“I don’t want to leave, either.” I know. Me too.
“Your eyes are pretty like that,” Howon shuffles to a stand and pulls his Quinque back into its suitcase and pushes is it up against the trashcan. He winces at the sting in his side but manages to brush it off as next to nothing and stumbles in Sungyeol’s direction. “Recall your Kagune,”
It’s excruciatingly painful – especially because one of his tails is still bleeding, and it would be better to leave it out in the open. But Sungyeol retracts it anyway and covers the hiss of pain with a question, “The ghoul eyes you mean? That’s pretty funny coming from a CCG.” Sungyeol tries to stand, but he’s still far more injured than Howon – even if he has healed a little and stumbles and falls into his puddle of blood again.
Howon slings his hands beneath his armpits and hoists him up. Sungyeol watches him bite down against his lip and he can see that his side is screaming in agony because he is in no condition to walk, let alone wheel Sungyeol around like this. “I guess so,” Howon chuckles – it’s strained, Sungyeol can tell. “But they really are. I like your brown eyes better though,” He strings one of Sungyeol’s arms over his shoulder and wades through the ocean of blood and winces at the splashing sounds his feet make. He stops near his briefcase with a fleeting look but continues his way out of the alley. “So can I at least call someone to come get you?”
Sungyeol instructs Howon to grab his phone out of his back pocket and he presses the one key – Sunggyu’s on speed dial. He needs to be. For precisely the reason Sungyeol’s calling. “Hello? Gy…”He coughs to cover it up and gives Howon a sideways glance, “Hyung? I need you to come get me…I was attacked. “ Howon hears yelling and frantic shouting and thinks it’s pretty ironic how Dongwoo would have reacted the same way. He thinks it’s ironic that he really isn’t that much different than Sungyeol. “Yea I…I’ll live if you can…” he pauses again, “Um if….well we can talk more when you get here. Hyung? Wear your mask.” Howon feels a little hurt – but he can’t blame Sungyeol. He can save one ghoul, he can’t save them all.
He gently lowers Sungyeol up against the red brick building he asked his friend to meet him by and resists the urge to move his hair out of his face. Howon wants to wait with Sungyeol. He wants to sink to the ground and hold his hand and tell him to think of anything besides the pain (the pain that he caused) and he wants to make it all okay. It sucks he can’t do that. He stands again and ignores Sungyeol’s eyes watching him whimper when his side stretches more than it should have. “Why didn’t you kill me the second you found out?” Howon looks down and sees Sungyeol’s glowing eyes and he thinks of all the ghouls he’s killed in the past.
He wonders if he’s killed anyone Sungyeol’s known. He wonders how many family’s he’s ruined. He wonders if all those times he’s watched them breakdown – cry like Sungyeol did, if they’d been thinking of someone. He wonders if those older women had children, he wonder if the children had parents. He wonders how many go to school like Sungyeol and he wonders how many resort to other methods like Sungyeol. He wonders if they play in the sun and if they splash around in pools when they’re young. He wonders if they laugh and cry like he did when he played with his brothers and he wonders if they have birthday parties and Christmas presents and he wonders so many things he hasn’t wondered before. “Because…it isn’t…this is a messed up world,” Sungyeol snorts at that, “And it’s just as much my fault as it is yours – it’s not fair that you get to die for something like that,”
Sungyeol lets out a light hum and rests his head against the brick. He listens to the sound of Howon’s footsteps marching off and he hears them even minutes after Howon has left. He hears them echoing in his brain when Sunggyu is rushing to his side and lifting him into his arms. He hears them when he sobs against Sunggyu’s chest because it hurts. It hurts so bad. He hears them when he can’t tell Sunggyu where it hurts the most because it hurts in his heart in a place that can’t be fixed.
In the end, he blacks out in Sunggyu’s arms and doesn’t wake up for about three days.
When he goes back to school however, Howon flashes him a full smile that shows he’s relieved to see he’s doing well.
Sungyeol gives him his gummy one when he slams a freshly bought coffee onto his desk and tells him never to catch the “flu” ever again. Woohyun crosses his arms and scoffs in that Woohyun way and gives them dirty looks, “I think you’re hiding something from us,” he glowers. Myungsoo tosses Sungyeol a confused look when all him and Howon can offer them is the same tired, sad smile.
“Believe me, even if we were, it’s not something you’d want to know.”