More Squid System for ya'll...who cheered? Good. Here's a scene basically sitting around in my drafts...Inho has DID, split between Frontman, Young-il, Inho, Player 132... all basically with different memories. Frontman doesn't remember about Junho or his family, he doesn't have basic access to those memories...Frontman's stressed about a family reunion, Young-il wants to help, Gihun's driving...enjoy!
The Squid System β Stressed Out Protector
Leaned back on the passanger seat, Frontman ceased fighting with the bluriness coating his eyes, thick like a spider web. One second clear, in front. The next muffled, dizzy, blurry...Young-il saying words that come out of his very own mouth.
...letting Young-il yap to the man that drives next to him without putting on resistance. His boyfriend. Their boyfriend...?
...With a full schedule for the day ahead, figuring out Gihun's role in their mess is the least of his concerns. Perhaps it should be. Since he's about to introduce their so called boyfriend...to their family.
A traitorous part of Frontman had hoped that a cross-fire with his adopted brother edging near a cliff had sent a clear message about how he feels regarding family reunions.
Junho blew his phone with texts since blowing the island, more than willing to set the whole thing aside, if only Inho agreed for a family dinner. Inho, of course, means all of them...despite him not knowing that aspect. The Inho that Frontman knows all but threatened to throw everyone into chaos if there were objections. So...family dinner it is. With Gihun tagging along, for moral support.
On the rare glimpses Young-il doesn't use his mouth to chatter endless words to Gihun, and the word blurs into focus for a few short moments, Frontman uses that to steal glances out the car window. Empty road gave way to the city...and will eventually give way to the building of the old apartament that once was their safety. It had to be...even if Frontman can't call to mind any detail from those years. That was Young-il's home. Inho's. Their shelter. It's not a trap, despite Frontman feeling like he's walking into one with every second.
Something squeezes along his left thigh, leading Frontman to peer down from the window. His mouth isn't moving anymore, though Young-il is a distinct presence lingering close. Close, but not in front. Gihun β from his spot driving, hasn't picked up on their switch. Frontman hasn't noticed either that he himself is in front until five seconds ago.
He makes a point to stare at the hand that travels leisurely along his thigh.
"Is this a pay-per-stroke or all inclusive? I didn't know you offer massage services." Frontman says.
Whatever Gihun was grinning about earlier wipes off his face as each word reaches his ears. The frown that follows rivals with Young-il's own scowl. But his joke has the desired effect. There's no need for Frontman to move a finger in order for Gihun to remove his hand. He snatches it away from his thighs like keeping it there any longer caused him pain.
He fumbles for something to say β and Frontman is about to remind him to keep both his hands on the steering wheel, something that he knows Inho is adamant about β when his world sweeps back to a fogged web, mouth moving to form different words.
"Don't mind him!" Young-il jumps to his help. "He's really closeβ"
"That man can't get me close to anythingβ" Frontman sends through his thoughts, a comment meant only for Young-il that rings clear through their head
"βby!" Young-il says. "He's really...close by..." he echoes to Gihun. "...We keep...letting each other in and out." he explains to Gihun.
Frontman doubts that Young-il's lover may get the intricacies of their disorder and what exactly it means to let each other in and out of front...co-counciousness...but Gihun masks any discomfort with a cough, shuffling in the driver seat.
"You guys looked tense...I thought...ehmβ" he fumbles for words. He may be able to mask his body language, but his voice overflows with emberassment.
He's uncomfortable. Good. Frontman has been uncomfortable since Young-il stepped out of bed this morning, with an agenda heading for their old home. At least he's not the only one to suffer.
"I'm not tense..." Young-il says. "But Frontman doesn't remember anyone in our family so he's been sour since we got up this morning. He thinks its a trap. I told him I miss mom's cooking."
Some days, Frontman debates with himself wheter to carry around a tape for his mouth, even if that would shut him up too. The sense of pity that radiates off Gihun doesn't help in the slightest.
"He doesn't remember anyone...?" Gihun echoes, any tinge of emberassment from earlier replaced with something Frontman won't name in his voice.
"Except our brother. He shot him...a while back." Young-il decides to detail.
At least that has Gihun tighten a hand around the steering wheel. He'd take blame at his own actions over pity any day.
Tired of other people talking about him instead of with him, Frontman moves close enough for Young-il to step aside so he can speak for himself. His head pounds with the switch. What he says only aggravates Gihun.
"....And I'd do it again. There's a gun taped to the back of our trunk. In case our brother wants a rematch." Frontman warns.
There's not, but 456 doesn't need to know about that. He shuffles restless on the driver seat, stealing glances at the back of the car, as if there's already police on their tracks.
He can be adorable sometime, Frontman thinks to himself.
"YOU TAPED A LOADED FUCKING GUN TO MY CAR?"
By his volume, it sounds like he wants to inform the entire Seoul on a 5km radius.
"Eyes on the road." Frontman says. "I taped some cash next to it too so you can bail your way out." he adds.
The words should alarm him further β it sure as fuck doesn't sound settling, but a glint of adrenaline joins Gihun's expression. He's familiar with that glint. It was there during their second game. 456, Frontman came to find out, thrills on adrenaline. It should come as no surprise for a man that played and won death games β twice. When the rush of danger pounds through his veins, he gets sharper. Smarter. Some days, Frontman enjoys pushing him to that place...while Gihun thrives staying in it. Even if he won't admit that.
Without Young-il's yapping, or usual comfort, silence settles between them, stretching for a long period of time. Annoyance radiates off his host...but he doesn't push for front. Half of it has to do with the headache that pounds through their head. One more switch would only worsen the damage.
Young-il knows that. Wrapping his arms around Frontman, he rests his chin on his shoulder, a gentle weight that peers up at him. His eyes rival with 132's own puppy stare.
He sure knows what Young-il wants.
He's about to shove off his request, but if his push isn't already written all over his features, Young-il decides to voice it.
"Talk to him." he asks. "Please. I know you're stressed today... Gihun is really good at comfort." Young-il says.
He'd rather send this car flying over the Dongjak Bridge.
"He's not what stresses me out." Frontman thinks back to him.
In response, Young-il presses harder on him, all but weighing him down, drawing his chin lower down his back. His forehead comes to lean on his shoulder. He stretches like a cat, using him for a scratching post. If it were anyone else, but Young-il, they would have gotten shoved aside long ago.
"Mom and Jun-ho are great." he assures him for what feels like the hundreth time. "...I know you'll love them sooner or later." Young-il mumbles to his back.
To that, Frontman remains silent. Young-il has filled him on the basics. His mom is a nurse. She apparently worked hard to keep Inho in college, time that he shared with Young-il. And then worked some more to allow this brother, Junho, to follow in his steps. Police officer. Both sound...decent.
Neither one of them knows about their condition. And despite hearing countless praise from Young-il and Inho about them, Frontman has to decide for himself wheter they're safe enough to know about it. And wheter they're not the very reason he got his disorder.
It doesn't feel any less like stepping into a test.
His warning to Gihun must have slipped through the silence because the man doesn't keep his eyes on the road. When Frontman peels his own gaze from the car window, he catches him staring. Driving but asessing him. Piecing together wheter its still him, his boyfriend or someone else.
Talk to him...Young-il said.
Not liking what he says is Young-il's issue.
"You're going to get us in an accident." Frontman warns. "If any guard drove like you, I'd shoot him dead." he adds.
In response, Gihun stares at the road for five seconds until the scowl on his face has him open his mouth.
"Is that your answer to everything? Shoot anyone that doesn't fit whatever standard you set?" Gihun pushes.
Shoot anyone that doesn't fit whatever standard he set.
Look who became more eloquent...
"Never failed me so far." Frontman shoots back.
As if 456 wants to test his last nerve, he makes it a show out of adjusting his stance. His body leans back on the driver seat, only one hand coming to hang loose on the wheel.
That would definitely have one of his guards killed.
"You can't shoot your way out of this family dinner..." Gihun argues, followed by a pause while he seems to recall Young-il's words about shooting his brother. "Not that you haven't tried." Gihun adds.
Want me to try again? are the first words that come to his mind, but linger somewhere on the tip of his tongue because saying those words out loud sounds too much like an empty threat.
Truth be told, he's right. There's nothing Frontman can do about this dinner.
So he lets him have his win. He stays silent, in response.
Until Gihun decides to poke him further.
"...Why are you stressed out about this anyway...?" Gihun pushes the issue. "Young-il says they're good people." he adds while he finally places both hands on the steering wheel.
This time, Frontman doesn't bite back his tongue.
"Young-il thinks you're good people." Frontman says. Anyone that shows Young-il an ounce of love is a good person to him.
It's sheer willpower alone that keeps Frontman from uttering those last few words out loud. Willpower and the fact that the man he's talking about currently rests his face against his shoulder.
"Young-il thinks you're good people too..." Gihun says. "And for the record, I am a good person." he adds, steering the car to an empty parking spot. "...Better than you deserve some days." Gihun kills the engine, silence for both in their car.
Let me know if you'd like a part two where they'd actually go to this family dinner...feedback would be great, bye!!!
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