Work Text:
They were foolish to stay here, Bas thinks when he enters the safehouse that night to find the air permeated with the smell of blood. He nearly turns around again, but he can’t help wondering which of them got caught and morbid curiosity drives him forward.
In some ways, he’s not surprised that it’s Tee. He was always the sweetest of the five of them with his big doe eyes and soft smiles. Bas wonders if he smiled at his killer before the fatal stab wound. It would be just like him; despite everything, Tee always wanted to believe the best of people. He’d argued the hardest for just letting Tae and Kimmon go once they left, but Bas and Copter had made him see reason.
They got Tae, but Kimmon…
Bas skirts carefully around the pool of blood on the floor. Tee is laid out on his back, eyes wide and staring, the knife that killed him pressed into the open hand at his side. Bas wonders if he’s supposed to think Tee did this to himself in some sort of ritual claiming of guilt. But then he sees Tee’s other hand, the stem of a white peony slid between slack fingers, a scrap of paper tied with a ribbon now dipped black with blood.
He bends to pick up the flower — and hears the near-silent sound of the front door opening. He waits, but the next sound he hears is the slow exhalation of familiar breath and then padding footsteps coming his way.
Bas straightens as Copter comes into the room. They’re dressed for a job, a gun held steady as they gaze into the shadows before acknowledging Bas.
“P’Kim?” Copter murmurs after a long moment. They don’t look at Tee at all.
Bas unties the ribbon and hands Copter the flower with its nodding head of packed white petals. He uncurls the paper to read the short note there. The faint scent of cedarwood and cloves tickles his nose.
“Burn all the bridges you can, but you’ll still pay the toll,” he reads aloud.
Copter lifts their chin and lowers their gun. They take a step forward, heedless of the blood, and lay the peony gently on Tee’s chest. After a quiet moment, they close Tee’s eyes.
“We’ll have to relocate,” Bas says, watching. “It will be harder with just two of us.”
“We can manage,” Copter murmurs. There’s blood on their hands when they straighten. They take the note from Bas and read it again before wafting the paper under their nose. They snort. “That’s Tae’s cologne,” they say, the deep dimples in their cheeks showing for a moment before disappearing again.
“Do you still think we did the right thing?” Bas asks before he can stop himself.
Copter drops the note in the pool of Tee’s blood. They put their hand on Bas’s shoulder and smile at him.
“There’s still two of us and only one of him,” they say. “We’ll see who pays the toll in the end.”
They walk out again. Shivering, Bas follows.