make it easy, say i never mattered

it's been said before: people are like places. they carry the memories of every person who has lived and walked it them, inevitably becoming part of those people's lives. suho enters a familiar structure; a second home with the right kind of buzz that doesn't necessarily dictates him to reciprocate. in that sense, hearing glasses clinking against each other, the sweet hazy fixtures adorned on moody walls, and the exchange of attempted secrecy over enclosed music, are those that entice suho to stay; to be surrounded without feeling occupied.

so he hits on his stool rather comfortably as the usual bartender hands him a local brew without uttering a word and scrolls over his phone for whatever that could help him burn time. it's not so bad, he thinks. not when he's been doing this for quite a while.

he doesn't notice the other's glaze until suho subconsciously turns his head to find a stranger giving him a look. suho could've sworn it was a wink before a single word was uttered by the other.

"something wrong with your eye?" he smirks just enough to hint casual interest before turning away, lips reaching for the mouth of his bottle. "or did you catch something worth seeing?" suho's never liked the taste of the beer, but drinking it gives him those unnecessary confidence and adequate kicks to keep him going.

the asphalt isn't as forgiving as suho thought i'd be; a fresh rash appeared on his elbow like first time-bikers would get at the end of the day. he decides to pay no attention to it, and dusts off the dirt sticking on his skin before standing. it follows with a quick hand running to smoothen out his hair, a couple more dusting, and a pause that yearned to be broken.

"suho," it's always been the same question, but never had the chance to know whether he's been telling the truth. stormy eyes meet a calm hue of warm brown. it doesn't pierce, but sends comfort in ways that suho couldn't seem to put in the right words until she uttered her name.

the shadows softly contoured her face as the sun gave its last rays before finally setting for the evening to come. suho immediately bags his hands to his pockets, forgetting the approaching hand of irene. "you shouldn't have stopped your car." words dripped like wax from burning candles trying to bring light that wasn't enough for a dim room.

"what the fuck?" is actually question that suho could only muster, and that's coming from the ever so rigid top agent that knew what to say and when to deliver such words. his reaction was somewhere between relief over not entirely killing the organization's priority, thank goodness, and a state of shock because, "i was pretty sure i killed you a moment ago."

the headlights gleamed over baekhyun's hair which was quite odd as it looked quite similar to his own. what was about this boy that attracted the organizaiton so much?

it's more of the writhing that irked suho much more than the blood. the nature of his job had so much of it that suho slowly came back to his senses and resumed the original plan. "okay, no hospitals. agreed." he nods as if he wasn't paying attention and bends down to grab hold of the boy. since they're almost of the same size, suho struggles a bit on carrying the other (while trying, trying to keep the other from wheezing in pain) to the car's backseat and utters, "i'll take you home."

suho quickly recovers from the aftershock as he sits back to the front and starts the engine once more. it's just a quick drive, afterall.

there's only one god, and that is death; suho wears the words like a chain around his neck ever since he's started working for the organization. it's fairly simple, actually: a client puts a price of someone's head, and suho's off to do the bidding like a modern day reaper without a costume children wear during halloween. to say that he's been doing a good job is an understatement, especially when suho's a sought for agent when he's only twenty two. that is why he was yet again called for another bidding.

old moneys are their favorites, but this particular man he was instructed to end looked at him like he was expecting for death to come in a form of suho. "tell me, junmyeon, why do you kill?" he calls him with a foreign name that confused the agent in ways that disrupted his mind over and over. suho screams and stabs the man repeatedly until the noise in his head faded. the deed was done, but suho doesn't come back to the base.

now, suho finds himself sitting on the railings of the bridge that is fairly isolated from the central city. the sun's about to sink on the restless waters below, and the winds were swooping in ways that paled suho's face. his boss has always told him how special he is -- but what happens when he jumps off this bridge? will he open his eyes with broken limbs, but well functioning heart? or will death finally come by his side and strangle the air out of him?

suho closes his eyes during the final moments, white knuckles slowly loosening from gripping the railings for so long, and savors the wind blowing on his face, before his hands let go --

is it true that when you're about to die, your brain clips all of the memories you've gathered and plays it just before you lose them?

suho sees an oddly familiar scene of the day he rescued a boy, and the words thank you uttered softly into suho's ear. why this? suho's eyes shot open before falling the other way, encountering rough pavement instead of what he originally planned. he instinctly rolls on a supine position and gets greeted with brown eyes staring at his entire being.