The Touch of Jack Frost (Weak Hero)

Changhui (12-25-22)

Changhui had lost them all. Everyone. So much so, it overshadowed everything. Cheongang was dead. It'd crumbled before his very eyes. By now there were rumors of his own death, "Changhui is gone!" They'd remarked with smiles, "Just like all his underlings!"

Except they weren't underlings, they were friends. They were family. 

In a sense Changhui had loved them. They were like brothers to him. Cheongang was their last name and home, the place where they could seek refuge no matter what. 

He clicked the gun in his hand, turning the cool metal over and over. It brought him no comfort. Maybe he would've opted for a knife if he'd hadn't felt so broken, so lost. Of course, he could rebuild Cheongang from the ground again. He still had many loyal followers that had been under...Jaeryeong. Pain pricked at his throat.

Jaeryeong was a bright eyed kid that Giju had taken notice of. There was so much potential sitting in that small body. Untapped and useful. Changhui almost regretting giving the boy his business card now, even if it had brought momentary happiness to Jaeryeong's once dull life. Nothing was worth dying for, as an adult. He knew that.

Yet still he clutched the gun.

Nothing was worth dying for.

Cheongang was nothing.

Giju, Juwon, Jaeryeong and Doyun were not nothing. They were his peers. They were dead. Suicide was against Changhui's principals, but rules are nothing if they can be broken without a good enough consequence. Changhui had always had a shitty life, starting at eight when he witnessed his dad beat his mom in the kitchen for the first time. When he shut his eyes, he could still clearly see the color of scarlet blood on clean white tile. Then when he'd left to live on his own at age sixteen. 

Yes his life was full of struggles.

Having Cheongang made it worth it. Watching something you'd built from nothing was worth it.

He pressed the cool metal to the bottom of his head, the skin there was soft, unlike most of his skin, which was calloused due to all the punches it'd taken. His eyes squinted shut, at least he could be with them. And if they still allowed it, in the afterlife he could lead them still. That's all he wanted. That's all.

Was that so much to ask?

Tears ran down his face in small streams, it'd been too long since he cried. Maybe getting beaten for doing so would do that to a person. His consistent breaths turned shaky and irregular, Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

His finger secured on the trigger. This was it. 

Giju.

Juwon.

Doyun.

Jaeryeong.

This was it.

He pulled slow, almost hesitantly. But he wasn't hesitant, he was sure. More sure than he'd been in a long time.

The bullet killed him almost instantly.

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