The Last Goodbye

Viktor leaned back in his chair, his gaze sharp yet oddly soft as he regarded Jeonghan, who sat tied and helpless before him. The silence in the room was stifling, only broken by the faint sound of Jeonghan's labored breathing.

"You know," Viktor began, his voice calm and almost conversational, "we should have met long before now. I always intended to meet you, Jeonghan. But, as with most things in life, timing is everything. And now, I fear... it's too late." He sighed, running a hand through his neatly combed hair, his demeanor calm yet laced with unspoken tension. "You, my dear boy, are the most unfortunate distraction to ever cross my path."

Jeonghan's eyes widened, his chest tightening as Viktor's words began to sink in.

Viktor continued, his tone almost nostalgic. "Do you know what it's like to shape someone? To mold them into a weapon so sharp that even their own shadow flinches? That's what I did for Seungcheol. I turned him into the man he is today—the perfect opponent, a man capable of surviving wars that would destroy anyone else. I gave him purpose. I gave him power. I gave him the tools to outlast this world."

There was a flicker of pride in Viktor's eyes, but it was quickly extinguished as his expression hardened. "And then you came along. You," he said, pointing at Jeonghan, his voice dipping into a dangerous whisper, "you came with that foolish thing called love. You made him abandon his legacy, his destiny. You turned my strongest creation into a man who hesitates. A man with... a weakness."

Jeonghan struggled against his bonds, the ropes digging into his wrists as fear and anger churned within him. Seeing his futile efforts, Viktor gestured to his guard. "Take the cloth from his mouth. Let the poor thing speak."

As soon as the gag was removed, Jeonghan sobbed, tears streaming down his pale face. He gasped for air, his voice trembling as he asked, "Why? Why can't you just let us live? Why can't you let him be happy? Why do you have to be so ruthless?" His words cracked under the weight of his fear and pain, his eyes pleading for an answer.

Viktor leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at Jeonghan with a mix of pity and resignation. "Why?" he echoed, chuckling softly. But then his expression darkened, and his voice turned cold, sharp as a blade. "Because there is no such thing as peace in this world, Jeonghan. There is no happiness for men like Seungcheol. He chose this life—a world of power, blood, and betrayal. A world filled with wolves dressed as men. You, my dear, are too soft for it. Too pure."

The room felt colder as Viktor continued, his tone shifting again, almost playful, as he shrugged. "I warned you both, didn't I? But you didn't listen. You saw me as a threat, not a teacher. And now, it's my turn to teach you exactly what I'm capable of."

Jeonghan's tears flowed freely as he glared at Viktor, his voice breaking. "You're wrong," he whispered. "We can still have happiness. We can still find peace..."

Viktor's gaze softened for a moment, and he reached out, his gloved hand brushing away Jeonghan's tears. The touch was gentle, almost paternal, and his eyes held a genuine sadness. "You don't understand, Jeonghan," he murmured. "Even if I let you live, even if I let him have his happiness with you, someone else would come. Someone crueler, someone without my... principles. They wouldn't just take you away—they'd destroy him too. That's the kind of world you've walked into. That's the world he belongs to."

He stood up, his imposing figure casting a shadow over Jeonghan. "So, I'm giving you a kindness," he said, his voice filled with a strange sincerity. "A quick, painless end. Because I know that sooner or later, this world would take you in the most violent, agonizing way imaginable. You're too pure, Jeonghan. Too pure for this life, too pure for Seungcheol. You should have never fallen for him. That," he said with a bitter smile, "is the only mistake you ever made."

Viktor signaled to his guard, who moved to gag Jeonghan once more. The man obeyed without hesitation, muffling Jeonghan's cries as he struggled harder, his desperation palpable.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice trembling ever so slightly, carrying the weight of unspoken sorrow. His usually sharp tone was subdued, almost tender, as though the apology wasn't just for Jeonghan but for everything that had led them to this point. "You gave him something I never could—peace, happiness, love. You showed him what it means to live, to feel... to hope."

Viktor's hand hesitated for a second before pulling back, as if reluctant to sever the fragile connection. His gaze locked onto Jeonghan's, a flicker of something raw and vulnerable breaking through his cold exterior. "But it's time to let it all go," he murmured, his words filled with quiet finality. A faint, sad smile curved his lips, one that didn't reach his eyes.

Gently, almost tenderly, Viktor leaned down and placed a soft kiss on Jeonghan's hair, his breath warm against the crown of his head. "Take your last bath," he murmured, his voice barely audible yet weighted with an eerie finality. "You deserve at least that much... for what you gave him."

He lingered for a moment, his eyes scanning Jeonghan's tear-streaked face, as if committing every detail to memory. Then, Viktor turned to his guard and gave a curt nod. The man moved quickly, lifting Jeonghan with a practiced ease, his bound body limp from exhaustion and fear. Blood trailed faintly across the floor as the guard carried him into the bathroom, leaving behind a path of crimson droplets like a sorrowful trail of tears.

Standing alone in the living room, Viktor remained still, his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze fixed on the faint smear of blood staining the couch. His face betrayed no emotion, but his eyes told a different story—a flicker of regret, a shadow of something unspoken. He turned his head toward the open bathroom door, hearing the muffled sound of water rushing into the tub as his guard prepared Jeonghan's grim fate.

As if compelled by some unseen force, Viktor walked to the doorway of the apartment. His steps were deliberate, the soft click of his boots echoing against the hardwood floor. He paused at the threshold, his tall frame silhouetted against the faint light spilling in from the hallway. Slowly, he turned his head to glance back into the apartment, his expression a carefully crafted mask of indifference.

"Goodbye, Jeonghan," he said softly, his voice carrying a quiet, almost mournful tone. The words seemed to linger in the air, wrapping around the room like a ghostly echo.

And then, with a final look at the open door, Viktor stepped into the night. The silence of the apartment pressed in like a weight, broken only by the faint sound of water spilling into the bathtub and the rhythmic, fading footsteps of a man walking away from a life he had irrevocably changed.

Jeonghan sobbed, his cries muffled by the gag in his mouth, his trembling body barely able to withstand the weight of despair crushing him. The cold of the room seeped into his very core, made crueler by the warm water in the tub, now swirling red with his blood. His breaths grew shallower, and every moment felt heavier than the last.

Faces flooded his mind, vivid and full of life, each one stabbing at his heart. Seungkwan's laughter echoed in his ears, his playful scolding and endless energy brightening even the darkest days. Jeonghan regretted not hearing his voice one last time, not laughing along with him. Dino's eager, youthful smile burned in his memory—the boy he had cherished most, the one he had always wanted to protect. He could almost feel Dino's hug, his arms clinging tightly in trust and affection. The thought of leaving him behind sent another wave of anguish through Jeonghan.

Mingyu, with his clumsy affection, always doing too much or too little, but always with his heart on his sleeve. The memory of Seokmin's laughter, unshakable and contagious, warmed Jeonghan's thoughts even as the cold of reality crept in. Hansol's quiet, understated care and Minghao's wisdom and calm understanding—they had all been his family, his home. And Woozi, who gave so much to everyone, who carried the weight of their struggles in his music. Jeonghan could almost hear Woozi's soft voice urging him to hold on, though he knew it was too late.

And then came the image of Seungcheol—his steady gaze, his firm hands that had always grounded Jeonghan, his rare, soft smiles that had made Jeonghan feel like the safest person in the world. Jeonghan clung to those memories, his mind conjuring every moment they'd shared. He remembered the nights he'd spent curled up in Seungcheol's lap, his fingers threading through Jeonghan's hair as he murmured words of comfort. He recalled the way Seungcheol's lips had lingered on his forehead, a quiet promise of protection that Jeonghan had clung to like a lifeline.

But the sharpest pain came with the regret—the things he hadn't done, the words he hadn't said. I should have fought harder, Jeonghan thought, his tears mixing with the blood-streaked water. I should have fought for us, for him, for the life I dreamed of. I should have kissed him one last time. I should have told him... I love you, more than anything, more than myself.

The water in the tub grew darker, the rich crimson of his blood spreading like a cruel reminder of how little time was left. His breaths became shallow, and his vision blurred. As he felt his body growing weaker, Jeonghan's mind filled with the image of Seungcheol's face one last time—strong, determined, and filled with the love that Jeonghan knew he didn't deserve but had cherished with every fiber of his being.

"I'm sorry," he choked out again, his gagged voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry... to all of you."

The water darkened further, his blood spreading in cruel tendrils around him. Jeonghan's body weakened, his trembling slowed, and his vision blurred as the edges of his consciousness began to fade. His heart clung to one final hope, a desperate, silent plea 'Seungcheol, please... find me. Please forgive me...'

His tears fell silently now, and as his breath slowed, his eyes fluttered shut. The last image in his mind was of Seungcheol—strong, determined, and filled with love. His face was a beacon in the darkness as Jeonghan let go, slipping into the stillness that claimed the room.

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