"Seonghwa-hyung, what's wrong?" San asked as he joined his hyung on the sofa. "You've been looking down lately."

"Huh?" Seonghwa asked, breaking out of his stupor.

"You've been looking really stressed lately," San repeated, concern for his hyung clouding his eyes. "Is it by any chance because of when you ki—" San caught himself, "—because of everything that happened in Taerrya?"

"Mm, a little bit," Seonghwa replied, shrugging. "There's...other things as well.."

"Other things?"

Seonghwa shrugged.

"Dreams. Weird flashbacks I keep getting of my childhood. The memories I associate with them." The ex-assassin shivered.

"Oh," San said. "What are they—Oh, actually, never mind. You don't need to tell me if you feel uncomfortable."

"No, no," Seonghwa replied. "It's fine. I want to talk about this. It's been bugging me for a while."

"Are you sure, hyungnim?" San asked worriedly.

"Of course," Seonghwa said. He paused. "How do I start?" he pondered, almost to himself.

"How about your dreams?" San suggested.

"My dreams?"

"Yeah. What happens in them?"

"Well..." the ex-assassin started hesitantly. "They usually follow similar themes. It always starts out with two dead bodies. They're not always the same people. They always change. It's always somebody I've seen or talked to – sometimes somebody I killed, sometimes somebody I know well – last night it was you and Hongjoong."

San winced in sympathy. Seonghwa grimaced.

"And there's always this man," he continued after a pause. "He's tall – intimidating – but I can't seem to remember his face except for the fact that it absolutely terrifies me. Usually, it's covered by shadow."

San shuffled closer and patted Seonghwa's back.

"What happens next?" San asked, his voice unusually gentle, toned-down and sensitive.

"He dies. By—by I think my hand. And then—and then, always, Yoona shows up, and—" Seonghwa buried his face in his palm and shook his head violently.

"You don't have to continue if you can't, hyungnim," the other demon said.

"It's fine," Seonghwa said, clenching his fists tightly, before releasing them and leaning back. A soft tapping sound lit up the air as his fingers rhythmically rapped against the leather sofa.

"So what else? What about those flashbacks?" San asked.

"Well...There's two people in those. A man and a woman. I think they might be my parents, but I'm not sure. I keep seeing flashes of them discussing something...something about me and 'wiping my memories' or something. I don't know. All I know is that I remember that we're trapped, in this grey room with no exit, and there's blood everywhere."

San noticed the quivering of the older demon's eye.

"Are you okay? You don't look good."

"No, no, I'm fine, I guess..." Seonghwa said, his fingers still tapping. "I'm just thinking..."

"About what?"

"About—about that grey room," Seonghwa said. "I remember it. It's the first thing I remember, actually."

"Oh really?" San forgot his duty to comfort his hyung for a second, and leaned in closer with curiosity.

"Mhm. The first thing I remember, I'm in a grey room – the grey room – and I'm covered in blood. There's two bodies beside me – those two people from my flashbacks – my parents. I don't remember anything else. Then this man walks in – the man from my dreams – and he looks livid, and he's about to attack me and then suddenly there's a light purple flash and he's dead."

"Do you mean that you—?"

Seonghwa nodded miserably. San sighed, before pulling his hyung into a hug.

"I know how it feels," he said, "if that helps."

San felt Seonghwa nod, and then suddenly realised how much his hyung was shaking.

"Hyungnim!" San cried. "Are you alrigh—"

"What if it's me?" Seonghwa asked shakily, his hands gripped tight around San. "What if I killed them, San?"

"Hyung, no it's fine – I'm sure you didn't—"

Seonghwa's grip tightened, and San squeaked a little in surprise.

"But what if it is. There's no way of telling. I probably did. I probably did kill them. I'm a horrible enough person to," the ex-assassin sobbed.

"No hyung you're not!" San yelled, pulling out of Seonghwa's fastly tightening grip and looking him straight in the eye. A hand gripped either side of Seonghwa's shoulders. "You're not a horrible person okay?! Don't say things like that."

"But I am," Seonghwa said. He seemed to have calmed by now, seemed to be thinking rationally, but now the tears were starting to spill. "I am a horrible person, don't deny it, San. Look how many people I've killed. A lot of them didn't even deserve to die."

"But—but—!" San struggled to find a counter-argument. Seonghwa-hyung was right – in a way – but he had never killed these people of his own accord, had he? Through all of that horrible black aura, San could see the other things his Seonghwa-hyung was; dark blue – peacemaker – and a warm yellow – a kind soul, gentle. Seonghwa-hyung was not a horrible person; San firmly believed that. But Seonghwa-hyung himself didn't – so how could he convince him?

San felt himself tearing up. Seonghwa-hyung was so tortured inside – the sickly light green and black and orange swirling around his inner aura only backed this up – and San was at a complete loss of what to do, how to piece all those broken shards together. He felt like he was looking at a giant, blunt cliff-face, with no equipment nor anything whatsoever to help him up.

Just then, San heard a beep – Hongjoongie-hyung was home. Seonghwa drew away from the other demon, wiping away his tears and sighing.

"I'm fine," he whispered, squeezing San's hand gently and giving him a smile. Though this smile looked very forced – to San, anyway. "Don't tell Hongjoong about this, okay? I don't want him to worry."

"Okay," San whispered back, though his eyes remained drenched in concern.

There was a click, and San heard the door opening. The two demons immediately got up and rushed towards the entrance.

"Hongjoongie-hyung! You're back!" San said welcomingly, forcing himself to don a cheerful façade.

"I am," Hongjoong grinned.

"Who's that?" Seonghwa asked, his tone carefully curious and gentle. If San didn't know better, he would've thought everything was just fine.

"Oh, him?" Hongjoong said, turning to the newcomer with him. He had deep burgundy hair, permed and evidently dyed, suggested by the burnt-brown roots that were beginning to show, and his eyes, though mostly covered by his hair, were fiery red suns burning through the strands of faded red. "This is Jongho – say hi. He's a part of our crew now."

"Hi," San greeted, smiling warmly. "I'm Choi San, nice to meet you."

"Seonghwa," Seonghwa said, giving the slightest inclination of his head. He let a small smile paint his face. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you guys too," Jongho said, his tone casual and disinterested, almost. It was hard to tell what those hard crimson eyes were thinking as he raised a hand in greeting. "So why'd you bring me here?" he asked, slipping off his shoes, stepping inside and looking around at the small, but cosy apartment.

"Well, first of all so you could meet the others," Hongjoong said, counting off on his fingers, "and second of all...and second of all...I'm not sure, actually?"

Jongho made a sound that resembled a poorly contained snigger. Hongjoong chuckled awkwardly.

"Well...I guess we could get to know each other better?"

"He's not somebody you know, hyungnim?" San asked.

"No, we only met today," Hongjoong said sheepishly.

"Huh???"

"Uhm, well, he saved me from a schlori attack, and err—"

"I want to be a hero," Jongho cut in simply. "So I went to the Prophet's, and I got a Quest – or a Prophecy, as a lot of people like to call 'em – and it told me to join this guy's crew,'' Jongho continued, jerking a finger in Hongjoong's direction. "To put it simply, anyway."

"Ahhh." San nodded in understanding.

"So do you live around here, Jongho?" Hongjoong asked.

"Mhm," Jongho said. "I guess I'll just be visiting you guys a lot more often now," he shrugged.

"Cool," Hongjoong said. He invited Jongho to sit on the sofa.

"Do you want a snack?" Seonghwa asked suddenly. He regarded Jongho with a kind smile, but San saw the strain behind his eyes, the desire to do something, anything, to escape from his thoughts.

"Sure," Jongho shrugged. Seonghwa almost seemed to sigh a sigh of relief, and got up, heading to the kitchen. Hongjoong gave a puzzled look, sensing a little shift in the atmosphere.

Seonghwa returned not long later with a bowl of apples and a knife.

"Thanks," Jongho said, reaching over as Seonghwa started to peel one of the apples. He picked out one of them, and gripped it with both hands. There was a crack as he split the apple in half then began to eat one of them as if it was nothing. Hongjoong, Seonghwa and San simultaneously gaped at him, and he held out his hand. "Want one?"

"No thanks," Hongjoong said hastily, laughing again in that awkward fashion. "I prefer my apples peeled."

San gave Hongjoong a look. Hongjoong shrugged.

* * *

The night drew near, and Jongho had left a couple of hours before, claiming that he had to go to the gym with his mother. The trio had talked with the demigod, getting to know him better, but not enough so that the atmosphere between them was natural or comfortable; nonetheless, it had been nice – and distracting, in Seonghwa's case – hearing about another's life story, his dreams and aspirations, and other interesting tales.

San had his own bedroom now as they had rented out a three-bedroomed apartment, and as he laid in his bed he wondered how his Seonghwa-hyung was doing. He was worried. He had felt how much his hyung had trembled in his arms as he recounted his childhood memories, the racking sobs shaking his entire body; the way he called himself a horrible person without even batting an eyelid, like it was just a simply stated fact.

After an hour of tossing and turning, worries churning around his head, San decided to go to Seonghwa-hyung's room. He was most likely still awake anyway.

Padding softly across the living room and taking care to make as little sound as possible (for fear of waking Hongjoongie-hyung), he gently turned the handle of Seonghwa's door and slipped in.

"Hyung?" San semi-whispered. He could've sworn he heard something that sounded like muffled sobbing, but the sound stopped as soon as he slipped in.

"Oh, is it you, San?"

San nodded, then remembered that he was in the dark and Seonghwa-hyung likely couldn't see him, then replied with a small, "Yes".

"Come in," Seonghwa said, switching on his bedside lamp. "Get comfy."

San, squinting his eyes at the sudden onslaught of light, carefully stepped into the room, and perched on the end of Seonghwa's bed.

"Are you okay, hyung?" San asked after a while of staring down at his toes, slowly adjusting to the light.

"Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry," Seonghwa said, his voice laced with fatigue.

"Are you sure?" San asked.

"Mhm." Seonghwa nodded.

"Hmph," San huffed, sticking out his lips in a little pout. He pulled himself further up the bed and wrapped his arms around Seonghwa, burying his face in the older demon's chest. "Hyung, I trust you, but don't lie to me about things like this. Don't lie just because you don't want me or Hongjoongie-hyung to worry, okay? You need to talk about these kinds of things. Don't bottle them up."

"Alright," Seonghwa sighed as he tapped San's back rhythmically. "I won't."

San pulled away.

"Okay hyung, remember to open up whenever your feelings boil over, okay?" San said cheerily, making to get up. Suddenly, he felt a cold hand clasp around his wrist.

"San, don't go," Seonghwa whispered, his eyes silently pained. "Stay here. Don't leave me alone."

San stopped for a second, before sitting back down on the bed.

"Okay hyung," he smiled, "I'll stay."

"Thank you," Seonghwa whispered, slowly letting go of San's wrist and drawing his knees up to his chest. He let his hands rest by his ankles.

"Do you want to talk?"

"If it's not about—" Seonghwa gestured weakly with his hands, face wedged between his knees, "—then yeah, sounds good."

"Awesome!" San exclaimed happily, before remembering Hongjoongie-hyung would most likely be asleep by now – especially as he had work the next day. He covered his mouth with his usually narrow eyes wide open in perfect circles, and Seonghwa chuckled a little at the younger demon's cuteness.

Silence settled.

Seonghwa began to fidget, uncomfortable with the sudden quiet, as the thoughts began to swirl around his head again. His fingers began to tap out an irregular rhythm against his mattress again, until he couldn't take it anymore.

"Is there—is there anything you want to talk about?" he burst out quietly into the silence, his voice strained.

"Oh, sorry," San apologised. Seonghwa shook his head gently. The younger demon smiled sheepishly, before shifting his position. "Well I was thinking..." he began. "We – if you're okay with it – could get part-time jobs. You know, to help Hongjoongie-hyung."

"That sounds like a good idea," Seonghwa agreed. "Have you got anything in mind?"

"I'm not sure," San shrugged. "I was thinking of going out tomorrow and having a look around, see if there's anything I can do."

"Mm."

"What about you, hyungnim? Do you have any ideas on what you could do?"

Seonghwa shrugged, though inside, a rather scary thought occurred to him. He used to be Big Grey—Cherries' best assassin. And assassins tended to fetch rather high prices. After all, it was no small feat, to kill another. But Seonghwa was experienced in doing it – used to it, almost. He'd be able to earn quite a lot of money from that line of work. He even still had his rifle and handgun from his life back in Taerrya.

But would Hongjoong – or San, even – want him to do that kind of thing? Did he want to go back to murdering people who may as well be innocent for all he knew? He wasn't sure. He had gotten so used to killing over the past few years, it was almost like second nature to him to resort to death.

Perhaps he should focus on making himself a better person, first.

After all, he had said it himself, he was a horrible person.

Besides, he doubted Hongjoong would want to use money stained with blood for his dream.