Chapter Text
One week after Gi-hun returned home from being drugged and shipped off to a nameless island, he found his mother dead on the floor.
He hadn’t been home much that week. He was out drinking more than he normally would, hoping that maybe enough alcohol would kill off the part of his brain that remembered that awful place. Gi-hun was out getting his lip busted and falling down hot onto the concrete, and his mother was taking her last few breaths onto the unswept hardwood floor. She probably tasted the dust on the floor while she was dying.
He isn’t able to look through her things. Not even after the funeral.
It’s too painful, and Gi-hun has always been the type of person to ignore his problems until he physically can’t anymore. The catalyst was the lease ending at the end of November. He had a two bedroom apartment full of belongings to move, but he couldn’t bring himself to get off the couch even to do his laundry. He had quickly approached a situation where he had a little over a month to clean out his worthless assets and find a new place to live with virtually no willpower to do so.
It wasn’t as bad as it had been before. His extended family that he hadn’t seen in years had come by to help clean out the apartment as best as they could, but as quickly as they had come they were gone. In the end it only frustrated him. His family, and even his ex wife, only came by out of principle. They probably didn’t actually care whether or not it was him or his mother they found dead on the floor. They were just checking off that box on their list to make themselves feel better, whether or not it had actually helped Gi-hun.
He’s forcing himself to get out of the house to make money. It isn’t really him making the choice to go to work, it’s the fact he has rent due and the cost of the funeral ended up falling on his shoulders. He leaves the house for a couple hours a day to chauffeur people around Seoul. It doesn’t pay well and it’s hard on his car, but he kinda likes it. He likes the different people coming into his car and being able to see a snapshot into their lives. A small fragment of their lives, available for Gi-hun to see for a few minutes and then they’re gone. He likes the impermanence of it all.
It’s a nice distraction, and that’s really all he can do anymore. He’s shit out of luck with no plan, and keeping himself aimlessly busy is the only thing he can manage to do anymore. Otherwise he’d probably bash his head into the wall by now.
Juggling the funeral and getting back on his feet hardly gave Gi-hun time to think about the game. It’s easier for him if he just shoves it to the back of his mind and tries to forget about it. He wasn’t even sure if it had even happened anymore. Gi-hun had tried to act on his vigilante justice and get the police involved, but that just made him feel more crazy than he already was. He was only forced to remember when the nightmares of the hundred odd sum of people who had died began to blend and mix in with the PTSD from the labor strike.
It isn’t that easy for him to get up. It takes him a year to get back into some semblance of a routine. His hair had grown out enough that he ties it back into a tight and short ponytail every morning. He gets a black coffee from the gas station when he gets his gas in the morning and he smokes his cigarette the second he’s pulled away from the pump. It’s fall in Seoul, but there aren’t any parks for miles for him to appreciate the scenery. He feels like he’s going crazy, then he feels his phone buzz in his pocket, letting him know it was time to start a ride nearby.
He picks up a man who’s holding his head down and talking on the phone, kicking out a cigarette with the toe of his dress shoe that matches his suit.
He’s really not even paying attention when he picks him up.
That was the thing with Gi-hun. His entire life was about to change again and he was busy thinking about what he was going to try to make himself for dinner tonight, wondering if the zucchini in the refrigerator had gone bad or how much rice he had left. Things had to be dangerously close to erupting into chaos for Gi-hun to realize something drastic was even going to happen, and even then he was worried about the grains of rice in his cabinet.
It’s all routine until he shifts himself into the back of the car, talking quietly on his phone. Most of the people who found themselves in the back of Gi-hun’s cab were impolite like that. They would talk into their phones the entirety of the twenty minute drive and not even offer him a greeting.
“Yes, yes. I understand,” the man in the back of the cab says. His voice is low and firm. He has an undiagnosed desire to hear him laugh, to feel him smile from a few feet away. Gi-hun doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. “It will be done by tomorrow. Thanks.” He hangs up.
There’s something so familiar about him. He isn’t even looking at him, but there is a sentiment in the air of someone that’s supposed to be there. Like whoever this man is, he belongs in this car with him. He catches a fleeting glimpse of him in the rearview mirror, enough to notice that he’s tall and his shoulders are broad, but the man is keeping his head down and eyes locked on his phone screen with too much dedication for Gi-hun to get a good look at his face.
He dares his own discomfort to turn around and take a look at the man in the back of his car and their eyes lock in that instant. He drinks in the profile of his face, his sharp cheekbones and defined browline, the inky strands of black hair framing his face so delicately. His mouth parts open so slowly and so gently at the sight of him that it makes Gi-hun’s stomach sink into the pit of his gut in a way he doesn’t quite understand.
“Gi-hun…”
It was Sang-woo. Without a doubt Sang-woo was the man in a sharp suit sitting in the back of his car.
“Sang-woo… Is th---”
“Hey, eyes on the road!”
Gi-hun jerks left to avoid the fender bender, quickly disregarding any danger from the oncoming traffic and looking back again to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. He waits until he’s at another red light until he turns back around to get another good look at him, ignoring the other drivers screaming curses at him from their own cars. He was focused right now, invincible to the remarks from other drivers that would normally throw him over the edge.
“It’s you!” he exclaims, the joy in his voice sounding unfamiliar to himself. “Sang-woo, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you. I was really worried about you, man.”
“Yeah…”
“When you weren’t at the funeral I was worried something was really wrong,” he says. “My mom was always really good to you.”
He isn’t even trying to guilt him because he doesn’t even feel bad, or really angry that Sang-woo wasn’t at his mother’s funeral. Sang-woo’s mom had made an appearance, but when Gi-hun asked about Sang-woo his mother seemed just as concerned as he was. He was too worried about Sang-woo to be angry. There was time to be angry later.
Ever since he saw Sang-woo during the game, he was on his mind. Constantly thinking of him, about his life and his hobbies and his debt, and what he had done to make it to a place like that in the first place. Gi-hun was always thinking of him, but he was always just out of reach.
He looked different. Not particularly better or worse, but different. Sang-woo had always carried himself with a level of reservation, but he was more closed off than before. His hair had been parted differently. While Gi-hun’s got a little bit longer, Sang-woo’s had been trimmed a little shorter with a stylist part.
He looked good. Really fucking good, actually. Gi-hun swallowed hard.
“I was overseas,” he says in a tone that Gi-hun can’t determine is truthful or not. “Sorry, Gi-hun”
That was all Sang-woo could offer him. A half-hearted apology after being cornered into the back of his car unknowingly. Just a sorry he didn’t even mean. It should have pissed Gi-hun off, he should have been fuming, but he isn’t. His mind is already onto the next thing.
“It’s okay,” he says, equally unsure of his own truth. “Really.”
He flashes a smile back at him. He’s situated on the passenger’s side of the back seat and Gi-hun can feel his eyes hot on his back. Sang-woo was probably studying him the way Gi-hun had done to him moments ago. He feels a moment of embarrassment when he remembers how he’d put on a little weight and began tying his hair back to keep it out of his face. He hadn’t been in a situation where he had to worry about looking good for a long time, but now he’s feeling an unidentifiable shame about his own body.
The air is thin in the car. He feels lightheaded and rolls his window down despite the dropping temperatures. His hands wrap tightly around the wheel of his own car, uncomfortable and uneasy at something that should be so familiar to him as if he bit into something too hard and needed to keep chewing until he couldn’t feel his jaw anymore.
It’s a ten minute ride. Not particularly long, but Gi-hun couldn’t tell if time was passing normally for Sang-woo. It certainly wasn’t for him. The brooding anxiety controlled his internal clock, and every second felt like a minute.
Gi-hun signals left and turns into their destination, an industrial park with a sign out front listing off the different businesses within the office building. He knows he’s in the hospital district near SNU and it explains why he’s seeing so many doctor’s offices on the way. He scans the sign slowly to confirm the address number.
‘#11415: Park’s Herbal Supplements and Remedies, #11416: Jong-ro Acupuncture
#11417: Solution Workshop: Adult Coaching and Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, #11418: Discount Pharmacy...’
He comes to a slow halt in front of the building. “This plaza?” he asks to fill the silence, and Sang-woo just nods. Gi-hun looks down at his phone again to see the address that he requested to be dropped off at.
“11417,” Gi-hun whispers to himself as he takes his foot off the brake to slowly roll the car forward. “Is this an okay place to drop you off?”
“Thank you for the ride,” he says coldly like he doesn’t mean it, closing out the ride request on his phone and leaving Gi-hun a generous tip. Sang-woo is shutting the car door behind him before Gi-hun can even think of what to say in response.
Sang-woo disappeared like a phantom. As quickly as he had come into the car, he had left again just as fast.
Gi-hun can’t accept that though, he shifts the car into park and leaps out while the key is still in the ignition. He can hear the engine tremble like his heartbeat even louder now that he’s outside of the car.
“Hey, Sang-woo!” he’s practically tripping over the dented hood as he twists his body to get on the same side of the car as him. “I wasn’t done talking with you…”
“You talk to all your passengers like this?” He can't help but smirk at him when he says it, even if the life is drained out of his voice and he’s clearly irritated. It’s hard to not smile when Gi-hun is acting so genuine, even in the midst of rage and discomfort. “I can’t talk now, I’m running very late for an appointment. Why don’t you call me later?” He's already pushing past him, trying to walk towards the entrance of the building but Gi-hun matches every step he takes.
“Because if I call you, you won’t answer.”
Sang-woo swallows hard. All he can do is stare at him now, their faces probably closer than they had ever been. He can see his age when he looks into Sang-woo’s eyes, but more so he feels like he’s looking into a mirror for a moment. He carries that same hurt in his expression, the same stress. Gi-hun doesn’t know why, but he can’t let him get away from him again.
He’s so fragile and his psyche feels paper thin. How else was anything that happened to him on that island supposed to be proven real? He didn’t even have the cardstock business card anymore, and the number left in his phone was a dead end. When he looks at Sang-woo like this though, the harsh daylight illuminating the fine lines on his face, he feels like he has a chance at something new. Like he can finally move on.
Maybe Sang-woo felt the same exact way, but he wasn’t ready to take that step. Gi-hun couldn’t force him. Sang-woo was bigger than him, anyways.
“Gi-hun,” Sang-woo says, his voice low and breathy. He swallows so hard Gi-hun sees his Adam’s apple sink down in his throat. “I’ll see you around.”
He clasps a firm hand down on his shoulder and shares a disconsolate and fake smile as he walks past him. There wasn’t any energy in him to argue, and while Gi-hun wasn’t above starting a scene, he couldn’t find it in himself to follow him into 11417. He wasn’t sure what he meant with his words, but Sang-woo was already gone by the time he had the impulse to respond.
Gi-hun stays there frozen for a few minutes before he returns to the car. He doesn’t feel like he’s in control of his own body when he pulls the car into a nearby parking space, he feels like he’s high. Like his mind is separate from his body. He has a sobering moment of reflection as he catches the sight of himself in the rearview mirror, but it doesn’t do him any good when he eventually decides to act with conviction and to wait outside of the building Sang-woo went into.
Gi-hun leans his body against the brick building, lights a cigarette, and waits for Sang-woo to come back outside. He has plenty of time to think about how uncomfortable his actions are from anyone’s perspective but his own, but Gi-hun’s always been a little selfish and that overshadows any better judgement hidden inside of him.
He hears him speak before he even sees him.
“I’m going to call the police on you if you insist on stalking me.” Sang-woo walks into his line of sight. He probably could have slipped away unnoticed, but he chose to approach Gi-hun and catch him off guard, then smile at him as he chokes on the cigarette smoke he inhaled too quickly when he gasped.
“I’m not stalking you!” he yells defensively after catching his breath. “I just want to talk to you.”
“So you waited here for an hour for me to come out of the building?” Sang-woo crosses his arms and Gi-hun can’t tell if he’s irritated or entertained. “Would you have waited longer?”
“That doesn’t matter,” he deflects, mostly because he doesn’t know the answer himself and he doesn’t want to think about it hard enough to figure it out.
He doesn’t know when Sang-woo got so cold. Somewhere in between college and his work life, Gi-hun thinks. Of course they weren’t kids anymore, they had traded their youthful freedom for responsibilities and dying mothers. But Gi-hun could still at least carry himself with some joy in his shoulders. Sang-woo had an undercurrent of pain to him now. Gi-hun doesn’t know how it happened and it’s hard to think about it for too long.
"Sang-woo… please…" he's pleading now, voice practically a whisper. He doesn't even know what he's begging him for, but he's delirious and he feels like if he lets go of him he'll never see him again and he can't let that happen. Not again. "Please don't go…"
He's silent for a moment, but he isn't pushing him away. Cars are speeding past them and young Jongno professionals zoom by them, speaking into the phones and giving them a passing glance. To any outsider looking in he’s sure they look dramatic, but Gi-hun doesn’t care. Nobody could understand what the two of them had been through, themselves included.
He didn't even know what to talk about with him. He didn't even know why he wanted him, but Gi-hun just had both a carnal and emotional need for Sang-woo in particular. Who else would he wait outside for in the languorous October clouds? Who else would make him feel so fucking pathetic?
Gi-hun is shaking when Sang-woo takes a gentle hand to brush him off of him, his touch lingering while Sang-woo stares at him so sharply Gi-hun thinks he might be bleeding.
It was all a cruel fucking joke. There was always an invisible wedge between them; college, marriage, just their lives in general. But they were brought back together during that nightmare of a game. All of those factors in their lives that drained their finances and led them to getting abducted ended up bringing them together again after all. Gi-hun is sure there is something poetic about the whole thing, but he’s too upset to see any potential beauty in it.
"Fine… Why don't you come to my apartment this Saturday? I'll give you one evening to talk about whatever you want, then after that you need to leave me alone."
He feels the warm relief bubble up from the pit of his stomach so quickly he can’t hide his smile.
“Saturday,” he says, forcing himself to regain his composure. “I can do Saturday.”
“I changed my phone number,” Sang-woo tells him, fishing a business card out of his inside coat pocket. He hands it to him passively. “Here.”
“T-Thanks,” Gi-hun says as he grabs the card. It has a sleek design, a dark background with gold embossed letters. It’s dark and delicate, and Gihun can’t help but notice the similarities between Sang-woo and his business card as his eyes bounce between the two of them. “My number is the same as before.”
“I know,” Sang-woo says. He puts a cigarette between his lips and pats his body down for a lighter. Gi-hun realizes he must not have one before Sang-woo does and he lights the cigarette for him.
“Oh.”
He wants to ask him what had even happened with them. Individually and together. How did Sang-woo end up in that game? He had been there, right? He’s struggling to remember what’s real anymore, but he runs his thumb across the fine texture of the card and remembers he’s standing outside and talking with Sang-woo and he’s able to focus again.
“W-Wait, can I ask you something?”
“It can wait until the weekend.”
“Right…” he says to himself, Sang-woo now walking at a brisk pace in the direction they had come from. Gi-hun wants to offer him a ride, but he knows he won’t take it. He swallows hard and rubs the card between his thumb and forefinger, repeating the phone number to himself to ensure it’s really even in his hands. “Saturday.”
Gi-hun stares in his direction until he can't see the smoke from the cigarette he lit dissipate until the air around him, until Sang-woo is out of his line of sight, and until the pounding of his heart against his fragile ribcage slows down enough for him to breathe.
He’s smiling when he walks back to the car and he doesn’t know why. Maybe he’d figure it out by Saturday.