Chapter Text
“Bright Garden.”
Dae-ho stood before the door of the apartment he grew up in, it had stuff pasted on it, like electricity and gas checks, and a little hole on the base of it. He remembered the many times he had knocked on that door since he was a child. Coming back from playing all day, arriving late from high school, afraid of the one opening being his father. But now the old man was dead, him and his shaved, white hair and scarred arm, him and his severe voice. Nothing should stop him from knocking the door, nothing other than the shame of leaving his mother alone for so long. He was the one responsible for her and the apartment after work, as his other three sisters had children and jobs of their own. The elderly lady was in pretty good health, but she gradually stopped talking after Eun-seo’s death, she was practically mute. If there is no food, if there is a water leak, if it is too dirty, she won’t speak, she won’t ask for help. Dae-ho wondered if his mother thought he abandoned her, sick of her lack of words and will to live.
Finally, he knocked, with a knot on his abdomen and eyes wide open. The opening door screeched and revealed the face of his oldest sister, Ji-hyeon, with Ji-an, one of his nieces, in arms and a cooking apron on. She stared in disbelief.
“Little brother!” She put the little girl down and hugged her brother dearly, she was warm, the apartment had always been too hot. Her embrace was familiar, comfortable, like a well known road, “where have you been?” She pushed him, sobbing, pissed off at the sudden disappearance. But then Ji-hyeon glanced at the baby on her brother’s arms, “ where were you, Dae-ho?”
“It is a long story, noona.”
Ji-hyeon sighed, leaning against the door frame, but before she could say anything, two older children came running to the man, “uncle Dae-ho!” One hugged his leg and the other stopped as soon as he saw the baby in his arms, “Woah! Are we getting a new cousin uncle?” Dae-ho smiled weakly, he was about to deny but Ji-hyeon spoke first.
“Me and uncle have a lot to discuss right now, why don’t you two go to the room?” Both children playfully nodded and ran back into the apartment, to the room where Dae-ho and his sisters used to sleep. The woman turned to him with a worried yet angry gaze, “come on in, I was making coffee, mom’s over here.”
And he walked in.
The heat of the apartment felt suffocating, it lacked big windows other than the entrance to the balcony, but everytime Ji-hyeon came it had to stay closed, preventing accidents for her little toddler. He saw his mother sitting on one of the cushions on the floor, right in front of the small wooden table that was floor leveled. There were a couple of impaired cups with black coffee on them. His sister sat next to the old woman, who stared at him in disbelief, not standing up, not anything.
“Hey mom.”
The woman did not even nod.
“So, little brother, you can imagine this experience has been a challenge, we were worried to death, and you come back dressed up normally and with… a newborn baby in arms.” She stayed silent, looking at the outsider, “what’s up with that?”
He stared at his cup, thinking, not having decided if he was going to tell them the impossible to believe truth or a more realistic lie. He decided to tell what he thought was closest to the truth, “I was promised a large sum of money if I participated in some games…” Ji-hyeon sighed, having a hunch of where this was all going, “but they kidnapped me, I woke up in a weird dorm and with a uniform with no access to the outside world.”
Ji-hyeon made all the sounds their mother lacked, “Did you really get involved in that kind of stuff?”
“What did you want me to do? Dad’s debt just doubled in interest and oh I’m sorry, as his loan sharks are so called-” he angrily made quotation marks with his free hand, “ traditional only I inherited his debt, they were coming for my organs, noona.”
She sipped the pure coffee, looking away, “go on.”
“They made us play different games, but if you lose, the punishment would be severe.”
Neither of them laughed, knowing that there were sick, twisted people in this world that would enjoy this sort of stuff. But still not believing completely, especially due to the ambiguity to the last affirmation.
“I- I managed to survive and get out, but many of my teammates… died in the process…” he could see their faces, hear their voices, “one of them was pregnant, and as her last wish, she asked for me to take care of her little girl.”
They stayed silent.
People died? By playing these games? Ji-hyeon cleared her throat, their mother had her eyes as wide as humanly possible.
“We managed to get out, but… 450 people died.”
Ji-hyeon peeled her eyes and lifted her eyebrows, suddenly losing appetite, “oh God.”
Dae-ho wanted to sob, but his exhaustion was greater, “I know it sounds impossible, but it happened, I swear it’s not some weird story I made up it truly was like that,” he eyed his mom, “you two know I’d never just disappear like that.”
Ji-hyeon stood up and walked to him, hugging him from behind, “I’m not sure if I believe it all, but it truly seems that something horrible happened.” Her hand covered a bruise on his arm he hadn’t noticed he had, “whatever happened, I’m sorry.”
Dae-ho dug his head into his sister's embrace, in a similar manner to how he used to do when he was afraid of the screams outside the room. Ji-hyeon's warmth was healing. Though she didn’t always understand the fear, she is always capable of soothing it.
“Can I carry her for a moment?” His sister referred to the baby.
“Sure.”
Ji-hyeon hugged the baby girl dearly, “seems like my little brother finally made it,” she eyed him, trying to change the topic, to lighten the ambience as she always did after every fight or horrible memory “you’ve always wanted kids.”
Those words he was weary to say, “I’ve always wanted kids,” he teared up gently, finally getting it out, destroyed by Jun-hee’s death, by his obliviousness towards Min-su’s falling, his cowardice that resulted in Young-il’s and Jung-bae’s ends. “I’ve always wanted kids,” he repeated.
“Does she have a name?”
“Not yet, I want to think more about it, I don’t feel I have the right to name her.”
His mother smiled gently, holding the hand he had laying on the table, she looked at her daughter.
“Are you… going to the police?” Ji-hyeon asked.
Dae-ho widened his eyes. Since arrival to the games, he had perceived the organization of the games so powerful, he hadn’t even thought about telling the authorities about it, “I’m not sure.” The guards, the weapons, the easiness of the disappearance of 456 people made it all feel like the police were in on the joke.
“I don’t think they’ll believe you…”
“Yeah, I might just look like a mad man.”
Or get in danger.
“Are you staying here?”
“I have things to do first, pay my rent, see if I still got a job, get in touch with other surviving players to know I’m not insane…”
“Makes sense.”
The older woman drank her coffee, no words muttered, nothing, just her usual shakiness and peeled eyes.
“I’ll come back tomorrow, tell you both a bit more of what I’ll be doing next.”
“I can bring you Ji-an’s baby stuff if that’s alright, the stroller is in great condition.”
“Yeah, thank you noona.”
“You should also go to a doctor,” she smiled, “you and the baby, especially if she was born during those games you’re talking about.”
“I will.”
They stayed like that for a little while, Dae-ho sipped on the cup of coffee he was offered, the taste of the forgotten beverage was striking against his numb papillary glands. The sunlight travelled from the window to his face, the warmth of the apartment was different from the heat of the games, it was not trapped or desperate, but vulnerable and gentle. The soft face of his mom was like a well known riddle, it was not safe or protective, she never was, but she managed to build up the stuff her husband loved to destroy.
“You said you need to figure out stuff right now,” Ji-hyeon eyed him, like she always did, “doing so with your little baby may be hard.” The elderly woman tugged on the younger’s arm, signalling her desire to carry the infant. Ji-hyeon smiled widely as she softly yet firmly left the baby in her mother’s arms. She may not speak, but her care and love were always explicit. Dae-ho’s oldest sister sighed, “you can leave this sweetie with us while you get your stuff together,” she scoffed, “mentally, socially, focus on yourself first. You can’t really take care of a newborn like… that. ”
Dae-ho looked at the dark liquid, spinning his cup, mind distracted, he then looked up at his mother carrying Jun-hee’s baby. It was a view capable of breaking and fixing his heart at the same time. He thought of Club Pentagon, of Pink Motel and then he felt the soreness of his body and the absolute exhaustion of everything, mentally and physically, he was destroyed.
“I also need to sleep,” he admitted, with heavy lids and cloudy head.
“It’s alright little brother, my husband will come pick me and the kids tomorrow afternoon,” she stood up back into the kitchen, “come here to check on mom and pick up your baby,” she playfully peeked her head through the wall that separated part of the kitchen from the diner, “only if you have a name ready for her.”
Dae-ho smiled, ready to find Nam-gyu, Gi-hun and a proper name for Jun-hee’s little creature.
Little creature.
He couldn’t wait to hold Nam-gyu again, to check if his pale fingers and trembling body were real, to see the kind of person he is outside the games and whatever is left of that. He nodded, “I’ll take your offer, noona, I really need to sleep a lot and find a couple of people.”
“I’m glad you made it, dear Dae-ho,” her eyes were shining with the love and admiration an older sister finds in a brother she once held in her arms, once found so fragile and required to protect, failing him, failing as a guardian of the one most affected by their father, “the idea of you dying, of you leaving and never coming back,” her voice cracked, standing between the kitchen and the little diner. “I think I would’ve died of horror.”
Their mother left a bitter tear out in silence.
Ji-hyeon approached him and cupped his face on her palm, a little tear decorated her cheek, with a couple of gray hairs enveloping her worriedness, “I’m sorry, I didn’t do enough to protect you.”
He held her arm, smiling, “I can protect myself…” her eyes fluttered, incapable of believing those words from his sweet, nervous little brother.
“We love you, Dae-ho,” she felt the urge to remind him, “I’m sorry for being so absent, for making you carry a burden, for pushing you into playing those horrible games and getting into that sort of shady stuff, I could’ve done so much more.”
He stayed silent, processing the apology. It felt right but unexpected, an apology he didn’t know he needed until it was given to him.
“I don’t expect you to accept this entirely,” she furrowed her lips, “We didn’t know dad’s debt was that bad…”
Dae-ho looked at the baby in his mother’s arms, and how busy she seemed. He had been lonely and stressed out for so long, he missed the care he used to receive from his mother and sisters. He nodded, “Yeah…”
A moment of silence happened, making Ji-hyeon wipe her nose and for the air to soften between them.
She grinned between tears, “you look good with your hair down,” lightening the mood, laughing as she sobbed, a contradictory amalgamation of feelings.
“Oh shut it…” his voice cracked too, “I must hurry,” he had some sense of urgency, unsure of where it came from but trusting the hollowness in his guts, “I’ll pick the baby up tomorrow, take good care of her please.”
There wasn’t anyone else in the world Dae-ho would trust Jun-hee's baby other than Ji-hyeon, experienced mother of 3 overly sweet and obedient kids. So as he said his goodbyes and headed to Hongdae, he felt light. His shoulders softened a bit, his forehead finally stretched.
He had a lot to do.
—
Dae-ho almost never stepped in Hongdae, it was a place of night life and drunk people. He was not a party guy and almost never got out, just going there because of work, driving packages from the warehouse here and there. It was midday, hence the lack of life in the streets and the closed door at the dark building with a pentagon on the front. Under it, in purple neon font, it read: Club Pentagon. Dae-ho studied the door, it was smoothly black with a handle on it, broad and imponent. Should he knock? Would it be open at this time anyways? Before he could even decide, he noticed a man with a toolbox walking through a narrow hall at the side of the building. He was talking loudly with someone apparently inside. Dae-ho followed him and noticed a wide open, much less menacing white door with a sign that read: “Only authorized personnel.” He made out that the room was some kind of warehouse with another long hallway that probably led to the rest of the club.
“May I help you sir?” A well dressed, yet evidently tired lady asked from behind him, with eyebags dark and piercings wherever they were possible, “you’re not supposed to be here.”
“I-I’m sorry madam, I am just…” the other workers eyed him, curious, and it seemed like they were fixing something, “I’m looking for someone.”
The lady laughed bitterly, sarcastic, it was a slow expression but apparently a common one for her, “sir, if they didn’t give you their phone number, I can’t do anything, come tonight again to see if you can find them,” she turned to a notebook she had on her hand, dismissing the conversation as unimportant, “you should know people here love one night stands.” Her smile became hussy, “I’ll ask for you to leave.”
Dae-ho’s face was as serious as ever, he intercepted her as she tried to keep doing her job. Severe, desperate.
“Nam-gyu, he is a manager here.”
Her eyes widened, “you know that bastard? You mean Roh Nam-gyu? That son of a bitch hasn’t come to work for a week!” She crossed her arms, clearly mad, like if a realization had hit her unexpectedly, “did he fuck with a client? Again?” She turned to one of the other workers, who laughed and shrugged.
“So you know him,” Dae-ho’s tone was hopeful, expecting, unable to hold back his relief upon knowing that he was true, that Nam-gyu did work here and was real.“I haven’t seen him in a while, do you know where and how he is?” He smiled and tried to be nice, “I’m worried about him.”
The young woman, sighed, “I can’t help you, he may be a fucking asshole but it would be unprofessional to share his whereabouts…” her long acrylic nail pointed at the intruder, “with a weirdo like you, sir,” she grinned sarcastically, finally walking away. “If you don’t leave I’ll have to call security,” her smirk was derogatory even from a distance. Dae-ho started feeling way too self conscious about himself, the spot of attention in a busy room with people just doing their jobs. How shameful, he felt redness invading his neck and cheeks. But it was for something that was worth it, not only worth it once, but worth everything, every single thing. Even when his voice trembled, his body tensed and his forehead wet from sweat, he spurted it out.
“He might be dead.”
The woman stopped on her track and turned to him, uncomfortable, the other people in the room had been transporting stuff in and out, so they had an ounce of privacy, “what do you mean?”
“He got involved in shitty stuff, I haven’t seen him since.”
She looked at the floor, “is it about his debt?”
Dae-ho took his chance, “I’m his friend, I can help him.”
…
—
After standing before multiple doors that day, Dae-ho saw the darkest one of them all. Nam-gyu’s supposed apartment was hidden among forgotten alleys, presenting a blackish metallic door with multiple eviction notices, neighbors’ notes and ignored bills. Trashbags were thrown next to the entrance, as other stuff was carelessly laying around, like a broken umbrella and newspaper. Dae-ho dodged the obstacles on his way to the door, worried about this being the state of Nam-gyu’s house and his safety. His hand froze before knocking, what if there was no one inside? He shook it off, he had to, it was a promise, he wanted to hold him again, to thank him, pass his hands through his hair, get to know him. A little wave of warmth invaded his column when he learned that his last name was Roh. Roh Nam-gyu. He knocked, eyes peeled, body expectant and trembling.
Though the noise was loud there was no response, even after Dae-ho insisted and knocked again. He got desperate, imagining horrendous scenes behind that door. Maybe an overdose, maybe he hung himself. The man was already hitting the door with his fist, calling loudly for the inhabitant of the apartment, “Nam-gyu! Nam-gyu! Are you there?”
Silence.
Nothing.
“Nam-gyu! It’s me, Dae-ho.”
He hit on the door again, loudly, messily, almost spraying sweat from the sharp, vivid movements and his long, now let down hair. Suddenly he heard commotion from the inside, something falling, then steps clumsy and slow, closer and closer. Dae-ho passed his hand through his own hair, trying to fix the mess he had going on, for some reason caring about how he looked, but caring even more about whoever was behind that metallic rectangle. One lock, then the other, there even was a third, song of little irons hugging and crashing. A feline, wide open eye, dark as the room it was in, glistened through the slightly opened door. The shy white dot it had eventually grew, expanded, as the single eye became the face of the man Dae-ho had been searching for. It was familiar, well known, but scared and heavier, hair tangled in the old ponytail the older man had made what felt ages ago. His pretty yet withered face distorted in a relieved and ugly grimace, wordlessly hugging Dae-ho, holding him tightly, scared he would dissipate, terrified of the man before him slipping through his fingers. He dug his nails deeper, slightly hurting Dae-ho, but the latter one accepted the unsightly embrace fully. They stayed like that, Nam-gyu breathing elaborately, his porcelain hands doing their best to not break and not shake, Dae-ho’s ones being a bit steadier, their heads fitting perfectly with each other’s necks, like lock and key, like the spinning gears of a clock. For a second it was perfect, the entire world muting out, just the beat of each other’s heart.
“Nam… Nam-gyu…” the other man’s nails were squeezing his torso, “Nam-gyu,” there it was again, his weird emphasis on the"g".
The younger one pulled out of the hug, giving the other more time to admire him thoroughly. The faint freckles on his high pomules, the gentle curve of his fine, dainty nose, the way it was redder on the sides of his mouth because he crumples his lips to wet them with his tongue, like a cat licks its whiskers. He smiled to himself, “you’re here,” he cupped the other’s face with his hands, “holy shit, this is for real.”
Dae-ho grinned, holding the other’s arms down, “Nam-gyu…”
“Is my name the only thing you know how to say now? I’m flattered.”
“I just love saying it.”
“Why?”
“Because, uh well, I…”
Nam-gyu scoffed, covering his mouth with his hand, interrupting the other, but also making him notice the blood that was streaming down his left arm, “shit.” Dae-ho rushed to hold him and check the reason for it, not caring to ask if he could, just intruding but Nam-gyu didn’t mind, he just studied the other’s reaction. He stared in awe at the older man's worry, like it was something he had never seen before. The origin of his blood, drawing roots on his bruised arm, came from multiple failed attempts of injecting, the clear damages of a shaky syringe painting over the purple veins. Dae-ho’s hands cupped it, his eyes widening.
“Nam-gyu… does it hurt?” The younger one winced upon touch, not really finding it hurtful, but desperate for the older one’s care.
“Not much,” then his grunt of pain worsened unexpectedly, almost falling, but Dae-ho held him before he could lose balance completely.
“Nam-gyu! Your leg? You haven’t gone to the doctor?” It was suddenly obvious that his leg was weirdly bent under the weight of his body, with other stains of blood over his pants, he hid his head over Dae-ho’s chest.
“I haven’t gotten out…” he made puppy eyes, or something more crooked and bitter, but still pleading and shiny, “I was waiting for you hyung…” he smiled, trying to hold it back, “if not… who’d carry me like a fucking prince to the hospital,” he pouted his lower lip. Dae-ho’s cheeks became red, but he lost no time.
“This is serious, Nam-gyu, it could get… I don’t know, infected? Worse?” Nam-gyu limped a bit, testing the state of his condition but finding no betterment to it, he smiled between sharp breaths, the sweat of his face glistening, “let me take you to the hospital.” The other one just eyed him, curious, as this treatment was something unseen. He felt a rush, the one he tried to use to inject more heroin on his bloodstream but failed to do so, drunk in pain and hope, now redirected to the outlander, the man with that hooked nose that seemed to be able to lighten an entire room with one of those uneven, cheap grins. The warmth of the man over his wounds was stronger than any other medicine he had tasted. Having desperately searched for him beyond those milliliters of chemicals, on every speck of white dust and every inhalation of tobacco and cannabis. Craving and finally having him there. Rich, pinkish, pale lips, full and beautifully drawn under his nose. Dae-ho was saying something, probably asking about a hospital or whatever, but when he finally realized that Nam-gyu was focused on something else, he just looked at the man, who couldn’t help but to redirect his gaze to the other’s lips every time he could.
“Say it again, hyung,” his lids felt heavy, giving his entire body weight to the other, “my name.”
“Nam-gyu, Nam-gyu, Nam-gyu…” his breathing brushed over the other’s ear, like they did before waking up upon impact, coldly and harshly after the games, that week-long nightmare, “Nam-gyu.”
He trusted he was going to be taken care of.
—
Light stung against his sensitive eyes, Nam-gyu was lying on a bed, a hospital one, with a sleeping Dae-ho sitting on a chair next to him. The other man had flowers on his hand, white ones. Nam-gyu was far from being a romantic guy, his entire sexual life consisted of casual encounters and situationships, seeing a bouquet of flowers probably bought for him was a complete outlandish sensation. Dae-ho’s eyelashes fluttered, first slowly, then quicker as he remembered the place he was in. He was half-awake when his eyes looked around and softened as soon as they perceived Nam-gyu, his grip on the flowers tightened, as he smiled and offered them.
“For you,” he cleared his throat, “the surgery was tough according to doctor Jang, there were complications, but you’re fine now.”
Nam-gyu hugged the bouquet, taking in their fresh and innocent scent. His knee was worse than he had expected, it was a fracture and due to the long time he took in treating it, it required surgery. “Thank you hyung,” he admitted, feeling his legs numb and head light. About two days had passed since they found each other, apparently you can get surgeries as urgently as you want with enough money. It was his first purchase with that golden card he won, how uncool. Dae-ho lifted the flowers and gently left them on a transparent pot, the light entered the room smoothly and fractured when it hit on the glass.
“The problem is that rehabilitation will take a long time.”
Nam-gyu fidgeted with a fallen petal, “I don’t really mind,” he tore it apart, “speaking of rehab…”
Dae-ho’s eyes became little waning moons as his smile lifted his face, “I asked doctor Jang about that too, but he’ll talk with you about it privately.”
Nam-gyu was tired, who’d thought being opened and reaccommodated from the insides would absorb so much energy, he noticed the stroller behind Dae-ho, his jaw dropped, thoughts shifting abruptly, “you kept the baby?!”
The older man turned to the infant and pulled it closer, a tired expression overcame him, “yeah, it’s Jun-hee’s baby,” his face grew severe, “they took her mom, the least I can do for Jun-hee and her last wish is this…” the infant slept peacefully, the orange light of the afternoon decorated her full cheeks. Nam-gyu looked at her, now without the bloodied uniform covering her, clean and well fed, his eyes then travelled to the man beside her, with his loving warmth and focused expression.
“I’m glad the little creature is well,” Dae-ho noticed the lost look in Nam-gyu’s charcoal eyes, like a puzzle that was missing several pieces. He dared, finally, to hold the other’s hand. Warmth upon warmth, the porcelain fingers tangling between Dae-ho’s shaky phalanges.
“Nam-gyu…”
“I want you to grow those white flowers in your garden.”
Dae-ho’s eyes widened, smile shyly being drawn, “I will, and I’ll ask this little creature to send them to you whenever you want.”
Nam-gyu’s teary eyes nervously looked around, smiling, incredulous of the sweetness the man next to him was capable of creating, he finally turned to him, white teeth showing, “does she have a name?”
Dae-ho was still fixing the flowers on the pot, imagining the little girl playing next to a bush full of them, the impossible brightness of both the sun and the white bulbs above him, Jun-hee’s fierceness and subtle yet indomitable willpower, the name built up like a beautiful tower.
“Won-hee,” his broad hand caressed the infant’s cheek as he held the man with the other, “ Won as in garden, hee as in bright and like her mother before her,” his gaze met Nam-gyu’s, “ Bright garden .” The younger one laughed, not derogatively, but sweetly and enchanted.
“Couldn’t expect any less from my big tiger. ”
Dae-ho reddened, maybe he did care a bit more than usual on the meaning of names. He sat on the bed, his body touching Nam-gyu’s, extremely careful of not hurting the other or even approaching the damaged areas. The younger man was slightly reclined, so he twisted in a way they were facing each other.
“You’ll visit me at rehab right?”
Dae-ho nodded, eyes big and shiny.
“The two of you.”
His eyes widened even more in joy, “yes! Of course Nam-gyu.”
But the little air that rested between their breaths felt immense, Nam-gyu feeling like no one had ever cared for him this way, at least not since he ignored and mistreated his mother until even her ever loving patience ran thin, Dae-ho knowing that the strange man before him was the most determined person he had ever met, there for him when the games almost broke him completely. They were in need of a pact, not a caress of their hands, not another hug, something more prohibited, more inside the other. The older one dared to gaze down upon those thin dry lips the other one had, making his own tremble in desire, care and need, wanting to protect him, to help him rebuild whatever he had destroyed. He didn’t really care what those hands covered in blood had done before, and maybe he was wrong and bad for thinking like that, but it was true. The only thing he cared about was what he saw and what he will be from now on. Nam-gyu’s usual sharpness was blunt, rounded, the cocoon of violence he had built for himself broke, revealing a weaker, vulnerable yet genuine butterfly. Their eyes locked.
Without noticing, their faces had grown closer, the warmth increasing dangerously. It wasn’t sudden or unexpected when their lips touched, shallow and tender, more of a caress than a kiss. It was natural, two pieces clicking together, slowly having approached and in the same manner, separated. Their gazes tangled between each other, Dae-ho smiling dumbly and the other one staring, eyes wide, experiencing the most care and love he had received in ages. He suddenly starved, like when you don’t realize you’re hungry until you bite into your meal and suddenly you need more. They stayed in silence for some seconds before Dae-ho rested his head on the other’s shoulder, “I think I love you, Roh Nam-gyu.”
And he sobbed for the first time in forever, letting bottled emotions flow out in the same manner a river does when the dam is destroyed, “I think I do so too, or at least I’ll try, I swear I will…” his fingers once again dug the other’s skin. The afternoon came to an end and all that was left was the unnatural whiteness above them.
Nam-gyu was a slave to his own determination, “I swear, Kang Dae-ho, I’ll do my best to love you.”
—
6 months later.
Dae-ho had been a busy man lately. Taking care of Won-hee plus his usual duties as his mother's caretaker were a bit much, but he was greatly thankful of not having to work so he could focus on those things first. He had visited Pink Motel multiple times every week, finding it closed each one of them. He even searched for motels with similar names, like Pink Zen Motel and Pin-k Motel, but none of them had any Seong Gi-hun as a guest. Even with that, he hadn’t just given up, he kept trying and searching for the man in every way he legally could. His most recent trial had been announcing him as disappeared to the police, but knowing the organization and their usual corruption, Dae-ho had low expectations of achieving something that way. In other topics, Won-hee had been growing up beautifully, she was good in health and a pretty patient child, though nurturing her by his own had been an utter challenge. Sleep was no longer a need apparently.
But there was a little weekly ritual that always got his energy up: visiting Nam-gyu at the rehabilitation center. He was still limping due to his knee, using a stick to walk, and according to their doctor he may limp permanently due to the complications they had during surgery. But they were getting through it together, the three of them. Dae-ho’s favorite thing ever was when they sat at the center’s outside benches and Nam-gyu asked to carry Won-hee (which Dae-ho always had to beg to let them pass). The other’s gaze always softened when he saw her, some sort of paternal sweetness neither of them expected the man to have. Those little meetings also let them get to know each other in the mundane way. Their favourite movies (turns out Nam-gyu was a huge film fan), colors, foods, what their lives were before the games, before their adulthood and debts, but it was never overwhelming, their conversations tended to never stop. That unless they desired for something quieter. Holding each other’s hand or having their little, still shy kisses. It wasn’t easy for Nam-gyu to suddenly undergo this rehabilitation procedure, he felt somewhat guilty of acting like stuff he did never happened, but he had dreams and yearned for stuff too. Maybe contacting his mom again, maybe attempting to have a family, to love and to be regarded. They were struggling, but it was theirs, incomplete but with the potential of more.
They were sitting in a cooler midday, Won-hee in Nam-gyu’s arms as he rocked her, today it was one of those silent days. Dae-ho inhaled as he fidgeted with one of Won-hee’s toys, “I’m seeing houses in the outskirts of Seoul.”
Nam-gyu was still focused on the baby, “great, have you considered a big garden?” He joked sarcastically.
“Of course,” Dae-ho answered, then he cleared his throat, “but… maybe also a big library.”
Nam-gyu’s eyes widened, suddenly turning to him. His hair was now longer, well beyond his shoulders but still tied in a ponytail Dae-ho loved to undo, do and undo again, he also looked more rested, his face remembering that the eyebags were removable. He smiled in disbelief, “Kang Dae-ho what do you mean,” he said in a lighthearted seriousness.
The other man had maintained his hair the same length, but now preferring to avoid the ponytail, just using hairbands or nothing at all, “what I mean is that… you know,” he smiled, nervously, “we could find a house with both a big garden and a big library, where you could have a collection of you know,” he looked around non-chalantly, “books and movies… like you wanted…”
But Nam-gyu was dying to hear it straight from Dae-ho’s mouth, “why?”
“Oh God this is torture!” He joked, making Nam-gyu giggle and suddenly getting lost in the beauty of his smile, he finally sighed, “so that we live together, Nam-gyu,” his tone was daring and low, smooth. The other one kept rocking the baby, some rebel hairs flowing with the colder air of winter, “I mean, of course only if you, you know, it’s not mandatory or anything,” Dae-ho was red and babbling, “it’s just if you feel ready for that kind of stuff and-” he noticed he wasn’t being heard.
“I would love to.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”