THUD.
Woori hit the floor hard. His vision blurred, the ceiling lights flickered above like broken stars. A cough tore from his throat, blood splattering across his sleeve.
Pain throbbed from his temple to his jaw. Warm blood crawled down his face, mixing with sweat. His hand still clutched the crowbar, knuckles pale, trembling against the floor.
The jacket gangster stood over him. One hand rested on his knee, the other gripped the metal pipe, resting lazily on his shoulder. He said nothing and just stared down at Woori's bloodied face, watching the shallow rise and fall of his chest.
Behind him, the passengers shrank back. Eyes wide. Lips trembling. Not one of them moved. The hum of the train filled the silence, heavy with the smell of dust and iron.
Woori's fingers twitched. His grip on the crowbar loosened.
The jacket gangster straightened slowly. His face was blank. Without a word, he raised the pipe high—then swung down.
Woori's eyes squeezed shut.
CLANG!
…
Thud.
Woori opened his eyes.
The jacket gangster was on the floor, unconscious. The metal pipe lay beside him, rolling slightly before stopping against Woori's boot.
His breath hitched. Slowly, he looked up,
Seojin stood there, the metal bat they're holding had its tip resting on the floor.
Their chest rose and fell, every breath ragged. The cracked mask caught the dying light, one lens shattered, the other revealing a single, sharp, tired eye staring down at him.
Behind Seojin, in the compartment behind.
The mohawk gangster's body was draped over the top of a seat, his back bent at an unnatural angle. His head hung upside down, lifeless, blood dripping onto the floor in slow, steady drops.
Beside him stood Kangwoo, his shadow stretched long across the aisle, eyes fixed on the corpse beside him before turning his head to Seojin.
Woori's gaze drifted back to Seojin. Their breathing grew shallow, each inhale shorter than the last.
Seojin's knees buckled,
And fell forward.
The crowbar slipped from Woori's weak hand as Seojin's body collapsed onto him. The impact knocked the air from his lungs, both of them laid there on the floor.
The compartment fell silent again, save for the low hum of the train wheels grinding against the tracks.
Woori stared up at the flickering light above, Seojin's weight pressing against his chest, the faint warmth of their breath brushing his collar.
He didn't know whether to move… or to breathe.