Never enough

San looked through the scope.

Wooyoung was still laughing.

"Shoot."

His finger didn't move.

"Come on."

San's jaw tightened.

"Shoot."

His heartbeat had changed.

That was the problem.

It shouldn't have changed.

A professional didn't get a heartbeat.

A professional didn't get curious.

A professional didn't wonder what kind of person could laugh like that while standing on a hotel terrace at midnight.

A professional didn't notice that someone's hair was beautiful.

San inhaled slowly through his nose.

One.

Two.

Three.

His finger tightened.

Not enough.

Never enough.

The voice sharpened.

"San."

He didn't answer.

"Shoot."

Wooyoung moved.

He walked toward the railing.

San adjusted the rifle.

The crosshair moved from his chest to his head.

Blonde hair.

Dark eyes.

A small mole near his eye.

Soft mouth.

Human.

Too human.

"Come on," the voice whispered. "Shoot."

San couldn't.