오징어 게임

𝙷𝙾𝚆   𝚂𝙸𝙻𝙻𝚈   𝙸𝚃   𝙸𝚂   𝚃𝙾   𝙵𝙸𝙽𝙳   𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙵𝙾𝚁𝚃   𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽   𝙴𝙰𝙲𝙷   𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽,    ending most nights with a question to think about  ―  sometimes the questions are silly, dumb often making no sense. sometimes the questions are serious, too serious for gi-hun to handle but to make him think about during sleepless nights.  tonight, however, was no different. tonight’s question is being asked by gi-hun, somewhat serious and somewhat silly.  his smile broke free, a finger being held up to tell sae-byeok to give him a few minutes so he could compose himself.  

“    don’t judge me too hard, pickpocket,  when i ask you this.    ”     a hand comes to rub the sleep from his eyes, how he’s forcing himself to stay up just to keep watch for tonight,   “   but if you could ―  if you could travel back in time to a certain part of your life… would you do it and…   ”    his hand rolls, flicking his wrist with each word,   “    and if so, what part of the past would you change?    ”   a silly question, a confusing one for sure because most don’t think of the past, they always kept moving forward.  perhaps, he was different, a certain part of his life needing to be changed.  and if it were changed:  perhaps he wouldn’t be here.     

𝙰   𝙱𝙴𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁   𝚂𝙾𝙽,   𝙰   𝙱𝙴𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁   𝙵𝙰𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁,   𝙰   𝙱𝙴𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁   𝙷𝚄𝚂𝙱𝙰𝙽𝙳.  he’s smiling again,     “    you don’t have to answer if it’s too personal, sae-byeok. you can ask a question to change the subject,  just this once.    ”

                   she’s awake because she needs to be. if they stayed alert, they stayed alive ( for now ). sae-byeok hadn’t verbally offered to be the second lookout, though she had sat down on one of the mats and all but refused to lay down. the others took that as a sign, crawling under their thin blankets and readying themselves for another restless night. it was just her and gi-hun now, the old man that insisted on being kind to her. why? she hadn’t done anything to deserve his genuine smiles and names so full of affectionate that it made sae-byeok’s stomach turn. arms wrap around knees that are brought to her chest, sae-byeok blinking slowly as she looked out at the dark room. not many of them are left, but there were enough to warrant a small watch party. she’d stay up until someone could take her place.

𝚃𝙰𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙶   𝙰   𝙻𝙾𝙽𝙶   𝙳𝚁𝙰𝙶   𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼   𝙷𝙸𝚂   𝙲𝙸𝙶𝙰𝚁𝙴𝚃𝚃𝙴,   sang-woo   watches   the   texts   arrive   one   after   another.   he   blows   the   smoke   upward   and   into   the   air.   turning   his   attention   back   to   the   screen,   he   reads.   (   𝚒'𝚕𝚕   𝚋𝚎   𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎   𝚒𝚗   𝚝𝚎𝚗   𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚜.   )   he   clicks   his   tongue   ——————   gi-hun   is   consistently   too   far   away.   𝙸𝚂𝙽'𝚃   𝙷𝙴?   or   is   he   too   close?   (   𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜   𝚝𝚑𝚎   𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎?   𝚑𝚎'𝚜   𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗   𝚘𝚞𝚝   𝚘𝚏   𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚐-𝚠𝚘𝚘'𝚜   𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎   𝚏𝚘𝚛   𝚊   𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐   𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎.   𝚑𝚎'𝚜   𝚝𝚑𝚎   𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢   𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚞𝚛   𝚑𝚎   𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚜,   𝚝𝚑𝚎   𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢   𝚘𝚗𝚎   𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝   𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚜   𝚑𝚒𝚖.   )   flicking   ashes,   sang-woo   then   raises   his   hand,   typing   slowly.   there   is   a   strange   streak   of   anxiety   in   his   chest,   his   heart   thumping.   he’s   going   to   see   gi-hun   again,   and   he   doesn’t   exactly   know   how   to   feel   about   that.   (   𝚢𝚎𝚜   𝚑𝚎   𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜.   𝚒𝚝'𝚜   𝚊   𝚖𝚒𝚡   𝚘𝚏   𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜   𝚊𝚗𝚍   𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗.   )   another   drag,   more   smoke.   𝙲𝙰𝙻𝙼   𝙳𝙾𝚆𝙽.

[         📲   •   𝚂𝙴𝙾𝙽𝙶   𝙶𝙸-𝙷𝚄𝙽.         ]:      Ten   minutes.   Fine. [         📲   •   𝚂𝙴𝙾𝙽𝙶   𝙶𝙸-𝙷𝚄𝙽.         ]:      (      NOT   SENT      !      )      That’s   too   long,   Gi-hun. [         📲   •   𝚂𝙴𝙾𝙽𝙶   𝙶𝙸-𝙷𝚄𝙽.         ]:      (      NOT   SENT      !      )      Maybe   we   should   forget   it. [         📲   •   𝚂𝙴𝙾𝙽𝙶   𝙶𝙸-𝙷𝚄𝙽.         ]:      (      NOT   SENT      !      )      I’ve   missed   you.   I   hate   you.

when   he   sees   a   car   pull   up,   he   leans   over,   his   height   bent.   he   can   see   gi-hun’s   unruly   hair   through   the   tint   of   the   window.   pushing   himself   off   of   the   lightpost   he’s   been   perched   against,   he   tosses   his   cigarette   on   the   ground.   swaying   a   bit,   he   steps   off   of   the   curb,   opening   the   door.   sliding   inside,   he   takes   in   a   breath.   𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴   𝙸𝚃   𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴𝚂.   he   looks   at   gi-hun,   pushing   his   glasses   up.   (   𝚒𝚝   𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚜   𝚊𝚜   𝚒𝚏   𝚑𝚎'𝚜   𝚜𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛   𝚗𝚘𝚠,   𝚊𝚜   𝚒𝚏   𝚊𝚕𝚕   𝚘𝚏   𝚝𝚑𝚎   𝚊𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚑𝚘𝚕   𝚑𝚊𝚜   𝚜𝚘𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚍   𝚊𝚗𝚍   𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍.   )   the   eye   contact   glance   ends,   and   sang-woo   can’t   look   at   him   anymore.   ❛❛            thank   you.            ❜❜   is   what   comes   out,   firm   but   quiet.   ❛❛         you   didn’t   have   to   come.            ❜❜   wetting   his   lips,   he   tries   another   glance.   𝙸𝚂   𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂   𝚆𝙾𝚁𝚃𝙷   𝙸𝚃?

                   he looks the same, and he doesn’t. gi-hun thinks he can see the boy that went away to snu in sang-woo’s face, and then he catches a new wrinkle, a frown line, and he’s reminded that they’ve been away from each other for a long time ( too long ). they’re much older than they used to be. the realization hits gi-hun like a train, knocks the breath out of him — or maybe that’s just what happens whenever their eyes meet.

 long ago something wicked had mixed in the nature of their so called love and now they've turned into animals . when a sidewalk would open his knee he'd look for a home to run crying into , childhood memories are nothing but sweaty evenings and bleeding knees . and nothing he could remember that was named HOME but hwang family pulling him in , wiping his tears and wrapping his knee , ye-jun would cry not because it hurt but because he was allowed to , because when he cried their mother gently held his face kissed his forehead . yet kindness to men like min ye-jun , was unfamiliar , no matter how much they were given it just made them nervous and in the end they'd respond to it with violence . now what he had closest to HOME was a cold man in a mask ; home / a carcass .

 a gasp tears away the oxygen from lungs , back of his head slams against the wall and makes up for the slap that questioned frontman's authority . it wasn't restricting his airflow yet it was definitely making it rather difficult to breathe easily , he had immediately reached up to hold onto in-ho's wrist even if by nature , he barely pushed it away . silence settled for a moment after in-ho spoke , before a sweet ' m e o w ' broke it from the ground . ye-jun , without looking down to the source of the sound though said with an airy voice ;  ❛ daddy is a little busy now princess . . . ❜  to which , the pale feline purrs and takes her small bowl to carelessly return to the bedroom . after hearing the door click shut , ye-jun returns his full attention to his handsome guest and flashes him a small smile . he's being annoying tonight , can't they go to his room already ? forget about everything ?

 ❛ in-ho . have you heard the legend of shìrìn and farhàd ? ❜  he's stopped struggling now , though the grip wasn't too tight . instead it just lingered on the vein , threatened just as it always did .  ❛ she was a princess , beautiful , and he was just a boy and well , so blinded by her love that one day he just wanders into the castle and says he will do whatever the princess wants ! whatever ! ❜  their eyes lock , his thumb once rubs fondly , tenderly over in-ho's knuckles .  ❛ just to let him hold princess's hand . and shìrìn tells him , if he carves her pretty face on the mountains , she will let him . he dies in the mountains . ❜  a pause .  ❛ you know why i told you this ? ❜  smile grows , voice drops .  ❛ so i can stare at your face more , memorize it better in case i wanna carve it on mountains . ❜

                   infuriating. always. their childhood is far away, farther than in-ho once realized, and yet he’s reminded of a naivety still in ye-jun. in-ho supposed he had always been like that, even when ye-jun stood in the doorway of his room, waiting to be invited in. even when ye-jun played cards and flirted with terrible men and began to realize that money was the key to everything. face to face with him, even now, in-ho could still sense that in ye-jun. the man had grown, sure, but had he grown up? the older hwang had outgrown his recklessness, making plans, ensuring that every minute detail was taken care of in his new life. why hadn’t the younger done the same? why must he continue to gamble with his life when he knows it’s the only thing he has left? infuriating... the word is an understatement.

‘ have you ever known me to care about fairytales? ’ in-ho had always been soft jazz, watching sunsets, reading biographies, the art of war. this seemed like a distraction tactic more than anything, one that amused him very little. his hand is loose on the saleman’s neck, but still firm, still keeping him where in-ho could see him. undistracted by the cat and the way ye-jun touches his gloved knuckles, in-ho barely blinks in his effort to get his point across to the other. romance, love, these things had slipped through their fingers long ago — before in-ho’s hand was forced into blood and death in order to keep his family afloat. half lidded eyes settle on ye-jun’s. this is about staying alive, surviving — if more pictures like the likes of the ones on the table surfaced... they were both well aware of what would happen. it’s not something in-ho wanted.

of course, i speak korean. mutt just barely stops himself from rolling his eyes. just this once, he shoves down the urge to make a snarky comment. he’s more distracted by the way gi-hun is eating, though he can’t fault him for it. he’d seen the way mutt had eaten his ramen. it seemed only fair he pig out on these cookies. “ – not too fast. “ said in a mockery of the man’s earlier warning. “ you’ll hurt yourself. “

you don’t know what i’ve done, he thinks. you don’t know who i’ve been. he can almost see him, mutt can, almost see him wanting to reach out for him, if he said that. mess his hair up, maybe, like some idiot, or take his small hand in his own, hold it between them. he doesn’t – he’s not, he doesn’t think, good enough to be touched like that, with – with caring. not by anyone. even if it didn’t make him want to be sick, how much he does and doesn’t want to be held just once just one time. maybe they were right. maybe there is something rotten inside of him, festering, and he doesn’t – he isn’t – he can’t –

“ i am young and feral, “ is all that is blurted out, instead, god what a stupid thing to say stupid stupid, boy flinching back and straightening. the tea kettle was still hot, and he had just touched it, touched and gripped it a bit too tight in his increasingly panicked ruminations. he chances a glance at his fingers. they sting, already turning a shade of pink, bright-burn red. he shoves the hand away from prying eyes, places it in the hollow created by his crossed legs. “ i – “ don’t be fond of me. i’m not your son. you’re too kind to have a son like me. i’m not your so– “ i like – mutt. “ stupidstupidstupidstu– 

he shrugs, giving up on speech. if he spoke, he’d choke on his words, and he doesn’t want his voice to wobble. instead, he takes a sip of what remains in his cup, finishing it as if it were a shot. it hurts going down, but it distracts him from the distinctly lumped ball in his throat. 

                   a laugh leaves him first, because despite whether mutt meant for it to be funny or not, it filled gi-hun with some kind of comforting joy. ‘ fine. you pretend to be feral. i’ll still know the truth, ’ that mutt wasn’t born like this. nurture vs. nature came into play with every person on the earth, and the boy seemed to have fallen to the latter. gi-hun, he often takes his mother for granted ; she’s been there for him for 45 years, and how does he repay her? gambling and disappearing for days to get himself killed. guilt tightens around his throat as he sips again at his tea. ‘ you won’t be able to talk like that to my mother. she’ll have a few extra words for you than i do, ’ the scold is half hearted, light — gi-hun knew she’d love him, whether mutt wanted to be loved or not.

his own cup falls to its saucer, brows creasing into worry as soon as mutt touches the tea pot. it hadn’t cooled nearly enough to be handling the surface, and it seems the boy has learned that the hard way. ‘ ah — didn’t i tell you it was hot? ’ man rises, striding toward the sink and dampening a cloth before approaching mutt, kneeling down to hand him the cool and dripping rag. ‘ put this on it — mutt, ’ name tastes strange on gi-hun’s tongue, but if that’s what the kid preferred to be called, than gi-hun could at least try, couldn’t it? maybe son, my boy, streetrat were affectionate terms that should be kept for later. if nothing else, gi-hun could respect that.

Soo-yun frowned as she listened to the older man speak. Morale was low amongst the players and she wasn’t surprised that he was beginning to doubt himself. “I’m sure you did all you could, ajjushi. I think you’re still a good person.” 

 ❛ you’re not alone because you want to protect yourself . you’re alone , because you’re terrified of someone else taking control ? ❜