farewell, neverland.

very much giving "spider monkey" iykyk

❛  nothing's going to happen to us, right?  ❜ ❛  i'm ... scared.  ❜ ❛  i don't like where this is going.  ❜ ❛  did i ever tell you i'm actually terrified of [the dark / heights / spiders / etc.]?  ❜ ❛  you hear me? we're not going to die today!  ❜ ❛  did you hear that? it sounded like screams.  ❜ ❛  i really, really don't like this.  ❜ ❛  we're completely alone here, nothing's going to happen to us.  ❜ ❛  this place has been abandoned for centuries.  ❜ ❛  whatever happens, keep the lights on.  ❜ ❛  you're not scared, are you?  ❜ ❛  this is like straight out of my worst nightmare.  ❜ ❛  do you believe in ghosts?  ❜ ❛  what are you afraid?  ❜ ❛  what was that?!  ❜ ❛  see, i told you there's nothing to be afraid of.  ❜ ❛  go on, no one will hear your screams.  ❜ ❛  it was a foolish idea to come here alone.  ❜ ❛  no one is going to save you now.  ❜ ❛  don't be afraid, i'm not going to hurt you.  ❜ ❛  you really think you can run from me?  ❜ ❛  it's a shame i'll have to kill you when we're done with this.  ❜ ❛  want to make a deal with the devil?  ❜ ❛  i'm not afraid of you. not anymore.  ❜ ❛  there are figures hiding in the shadows, waiting to strike.  ❜ ❛  this wasn't so bad now, was it?  ❜ ❛  what could possibly go wrong - it's just an old abandoned meaning, it doesn't mean it's haunted, right?  ❜ ❛  face it, we won't make it out of here alive.  ❜ ❛  i'll even give you a choice - it's either you or them. who's going to die tonight?  ❜ ❛  i will haunt you for the rest of your days.  ❜ ❛  don't scream, it will only make this worse.  ❜ ❛  you look so pretty when you're scared of me.  ❜ ❛  i won't kill you ... yet.  ❜ ❛  ghosts and monsters aren't real.  ❜ ❛  i'm not afraid of anything!  ❜ ❛  you! you're sick! you sent me here to die, didn't you?  ❜ ❛  close your eyes. it'll make it easier if you don't see it coming.  ❜ ❛  no matter where you hide, i'll always find you. so you better give up now.  ❜ ❛  i promise i'm gonna be your worst nightmare.  ❜ ❛  it's only over when i say it is.  ❜

With an easy, knowing smile and a charisma that invites people to stick around, he stood silently on the platform of Jonggak Station, like a statue carved from marble; look but don’t touch. Briefcase held firmly in hand, suit neatly pressed, and hair slicked back, the man fit right in with the busy commuters going about their daily routines. However, if any of them had been privy to the true intentions disguised beneath that calm façade, they would have certainly given him a very wide berth.

There was a reason he was here, at this station and at this particular time — Lee Myung-gi, a successful “YouTuber” who once ran the channel “MG Coin” as a cryptocurrency trader who offered advice to his audience. Of course, like so many of those investments, things took a turn when his last promoted coin turned out to be a scam. Surprise, surprise.

The Recruiter’s gaze scanned the moving bodies, waiting, waiting for that one face that would spur him to action. He should be arriving any minute now— ahh, there he was. Just coming down the stairs. A ghost of a smirk curved his lips. Short little guy, wasn’t he? One of those chip on the shoulder types. An ideal candidate. With a confidence befitting his demeanor — that part wasn’t fake — the Recruiter followed the young man until he came to a stop near the train tracks, his face unreadable beneath the bucket hat he wore. It was no wonder he was trying to hide his identity after that complete fuck-up.

“I hope you aren’t thinking any unpleasant thoughts,” His voice smooth, eyes flickering towards the tracks before them. How many of these people took the easy way out rather than work towards bettering themselves? It was pathetic, really, but amusing all the same. There had been a few instances where his person of interest had ended their lives before he got to them. It wasn’t like it bothered him to miss those opportunities — there were plenty of rats that would take their place.

how fragile, the heights of success. to rise so high only to plummet from the summit so suddenly, so violently, to see gold tarnish into ash underneath one's feet. it was something lee myung-gi understood better than anyone. six months—half a year of humiliation, of running, of struggling to claw back even a fragment of light from rock bottom, any good thing, so far out of reach. his name was now nothing but a bitter taste in everyone's mouth; the ones who'd admired him baying for his blood. the great mg coin, crypto's golden boy, a prophet of prosperity! what a joke.

all of their gratitude had turned into venom. was it truly his fault that the coin had been a scam? couldn't they see that he was also a victim? that he, too, had been conned, stripped of not only his wealth, but his credibility, his whole fucking life? the truth wasn't what they wanted. the truth was complicated, unsatisfying. what they craved was something simpler—someone to blame. it didn't matter that he'd poured everything into that venture as well, that he believed in it with the same fervor. no, none of that mattered. all they saw was the man that stood in the middle of it, and they tore him apart for it.

there were moments, despite his meticulous efforts to remain in obscurity, when he'd find himself face to face with those faces, contorted with seething hatred. it was exhausting, really. some spat their anger in his face, accusing him of destroying their lives, blabbing about this and that. others didn't settle for words; all fists and bared teeth. in all his emptiness, there was still room for anger. if the world was so eager to abandon him, why shouldn't he do the same? why the fuck should he care about anyone else? these thoughts lingered at the forefront, the runaway hadn't even realized that he'd made it to the station, just another stop in his mundane routine, let alone the fact that he was stood right before the tracks.

and then, a voice.

"No, this is somewhere new. For both of us." Us. We. In it together. That's how they were meant to be from the start and how they would be from now on. Moon-jo could see the range of emotions tormenting his poor Jong-woo, but he also seemed to be coming around to the idea. After all, wasn't anywhere better than Eden?

"Rest now. It'll be a while before we get there." The train wasn't all that comfortable, probably adding to the other's stress rather than easing it, but Jong-woo was welcome to use his shoulder as support. The thought made Moon-jo smile. There were many things he could do to help Jong-woo get through this difficult and confusing time. Such tension in his shoulders... how he'd like to loosen him up...

the storm brewing his mind reflected on his delicate features, thoughts bearing down like a blade's edge, tension just barely held in check. behind his teeth simmered something caustic, a venom that remained trapped in a set jaw. slowly, deliberately, a breath was inhaled, nostrils flaring subtly, as though to temper the smoldering fire in his chest. caught in the grip of such absurdity, one that defied comprehension, jong-woo relied on his own breathing to hold him in place in this precariously tilting world of his; the cadence, his anchor, delaying the inevitable collapse.

he couldn't stop the flinch that rippled through his body when moon-jo's hand settled on his shoulder. his touch was light, but it burned, scorched, yet somehow chilled him to the bone at the same time. how strange it was, that it was always moon-jo being the one to pull him back from the labyrinth of his own mind. for a heartbeat, he froze beneath it, before instinct took over—a jolt of his shoulder, rough and abrupt, shoving away the magnetic pull of the other ( inexplicably tethered, a moth drawn to a flame ). “shut up,” his scowl, sharp and resolute, bore into the empty space before him, gaze fixed firmly ahead.

CHOI WOO-SHIK as LEE TANG ⭕️

"Always so stubborn." But also sounding like a broken record. But broken looked good on Jong-woo. To see him look at him with those eyes sent prickles across Moon-jo's flesh, his desire to stay with this man always increasing with every second they spent together.

Okay, he'd play nice. For his Jong-woo.

"I'm taking you to the countryside. Won't it be nice to get away from it all? All those people who look down on you?" Even if his boss was dead and he didn't need to worry about his colleagues or girlfriend, there were still many others that would treat Jong-woo the same way. Because they didn't appreciate him. Not in the way that Moon-jo did. No, they didn't deserve to be in his company, filling his head with nonsense that would make his dearest doubt himself...

"Somewhere quiet where you can recover." While his physical injuries might have healed, they had some work to do on that beautiful mind of his. As lovely as broken was, Moon-jo needed him to be functioning if they were to become a partnership. Yes, that was what Moon-jo craved; being partners in life. In all aspects of it.

it was typical of the other man to avoid giving a direct answer, gliding around the truth, instead. moon-jo's words flowed effortlessly, imbued with such a charm that drew people in, veiled in an air of casual nonchalance that cleverly concealed the meticulous thought behind them. his voice was a sinister lullaby, smooth, yet chilling; ambiguity, a tool that he wielded well. if there was one undeniable truth, it was that moon-jo would always be three steps ahead. he wove an intricate web that entangled his listeners in its silken threads. in this delicate dance, he held the reins.

all those people who look down on you. clenched fist tightened. yes, those people... those people who trampled all over him every chance they got. he remembered them.

“is that where you've been this whole time, then?” the question sliced through the stillness like a blade, sudden, emerging from the part of him that festered beneath those layers of denial. in the dim recesses of his mind, he wondered why it had taken so long for moon-jo to make his presence known, a new, bitter anger welling up within him as the thought fought its way forward. why had he left him alone, in all of this turmoil? forgive him, he was like a mosaic of broken glass at the moment, jagged shards strewn all over, sharp and dangerous to the touch.

"I don't know why you try to resist me... you know it won't matter in the end."

Moon-jo was glad when Jong-woo saw some semblance of sense and moved with him. See, that was because he was smart despite his attempts to deny his true self. It was something they still needed to work on but that was why Moon-jo was here to be his mentor and guide.

Despite the other's apparent cooperation — it wouldn't last, Moon-jo knew — he kept his grip tight. Jong-woo was like a wild dog at the moment, one that would need to be broken in. That was fine. Moon-jo had dealt with those in the past that had been too eager to please, too happy to go along with what he instructed without fully understanding what he needed from them. That was the reason they always turned out to be failures that required his own brand of euthanasia. Jong-woo was different. He didn't bend so easily, which meant it would mean more when he finally gave in and accepted his new role.

"I have a place in mind for us to stay while you acclimatize to your new life."

Somewhere quiet and isolated, the perfect conditions for them to cast aside their differences and bond.

---

what the hell had he gotten into? he could sift through the innermost reaches of his mind for some slight of an answer and still fall short. the punched ticket that 304, moon-jo, had bought him was crumpled inside of a stoutly enclosed fist – whether it was done intentionally, or not, was open to debate. jong-woo was significantly out of his depth. what an aberrant scenario it was – had you even suggested the notion of travelling with the other, let alone the very fact that he was alive... he would render you out of your mind. moon-jo was alive. against all seemingly insurmountable expectations, he was before him, breathing the same air. his heart was beating. how could that be?

perhaps it could be argued that the novelist was the one that was out of his mind.

the glower on his face didn't attenuate, but it did shift elsewhere, the flashes of scenery that flitted through the window panes now focalized on. bereft of speech for the complete duration of their journey thus far, when he finally did break his silence, his voice was low, spoken through gritted teeth. “you haven't answered me,” if he looked back now, after breaking that contact at long last, would the phantom still be there? half of him didn't want to know the answer. “you're supposed to be dead,” going against his twinge of conscience, he forced his gaze ahead – still real. the stare was piercing and unwavering, lowering to the spot on the other's neck that had been sliced by his own hand. or had it, really? deep down, he knew.

with a set jaw, he averted his eyes once more. it took everything within him not to go for the other's throat. “where are you taking me?”

"People are watching..." He was amused as always, Jong-woo's tone failing to shake Moon-jo's core. No, he didn't have that sort of power over him and never would. Ms. Eom had often thought she had him under her thumb but was proven wrong every time. Jong-woo was no different and would have to fully accept Moon-jo's position in his life (above him yet willing to guide him on this new path) if he wanted to keep that last shred of sanity that was struggling to remain in existence.

"Enough of your denial now, my sweet. It's getting old."

And so was the rude pointing. Moon-jo closed the distance between them in two strides, his hand grabbing for that finger Jong-woo liked to wag about so much. He twisted it in his grip and dragged him forward, his free hand reaching up to grip the back of the younger man's neck.

"Come with me now or I'll drag you back to what remains of Eden and force you to relive the memories of your time there." He'd shut him in the fourth floor and let him rot inside his own mind until he gave in and admitted that he needed Moon-jo to save him. To care for him.

His hold on the finger releases at the same time his other hand tightens. "You don't realize how fair I am to you. How much I like you." Because if he didn't like Jong-woo, he wouldn't have survived this long. And even though that stubborn side that kept him from completely giving himself over to Moon-jo was frustrating at times, it was also one of the traits Moon-jo liked so much about him. It excited him.

the remark did break him out of his paroxysm of anger, if only fleetingly, his fixation turning to that of the onlookers, falter unambiguous. their faces were twisted up in something that jong-woo was all too familiar with. disdain. if he had been one step closer to the end of his rope, he would have started yelling at them, too (because what the fuck did they know? they had no idea just what, or rather, who, he was dealing with!), but enough sanity remained for him to draw back.

a sharp hiss resounded as his finger was twisted and pulled with vigour towards the other, flinching when he, quite literally, was taken into moon-jo's grasp. in mere seconds, he had entire control over the situation. jong-woo was an exceptionally stubborn man, but even then, it was understood well — he was in no position to gain the upper hand. his insides twisted, coldness hitting at his core as he bore into moon-jo's intransigent gaze, his own wide and unblinking. he was certain of one thing, and that was that the other would would stick to his word.

it was impossible to say just what would happen if he ended up back in that hell.

no, he would never go back there. he wouldn't. but he also wouldn't accede so easily. the tightening grip on his nape burned, eyes narrowing once more at the other man's words, the breaths he drew in shallow, his lip curling. anger was better than fear. if jong-woo fought him now, there was no doubt that he'd be bested; there wasn't much choice but to go along with. he'd have to strike after. body going eerily still when moon-jo moved in even closer, the shiver that followed masked by the abrupt shove that he delivered to his chest. through tightly clamped teeth, words of venom were hurled, “get off of me, you asshole.”

and yet, the demand was followed, albeit begrudgingly. what else could he do? he had to do something. if only his mind wasn't spinning.

"Because I'm all you have left."

Everyone else Jong-woo knew had either abandoned him or lay six feet under. He was in for a shocking wake-up call if he thought he could just start over with a fresh life and new friends. Who would want to get to know him as he was now? As his true self? Nobody would be able to handle it, they'd think him strange and disturbed. Only Moon-jo could understand him and that was how it would remain.

He sighed and held up his hands in mock surrender. "If you think you know what's best for you, then by all means try it. See how far you get." A smile unfurled on his lips, wicked and awful. "But you know that can't happen, don't you? Because you've had a taste for what life could be like... the power you can have. If you try to go back to how things were, do you think you'll be satisfied? You'd be the rookie in your work again, always looked down on by your colleagues, disrespected by your bosses, humiliated and seen as the second choice by girlfriends..."

Moon-jo tutted.

"A rather pathetic existence."

the response reverberated through his skull, ricocheting from wall to wall like the shooting pains of a migraine. i'm all you have left. jong-woo had been closely bound with loneliness since childhood, oft confined to the four corners of a room devoid of any comfort, or elsewise, the depths of his own mind. in times gone by, he could have said that he had ji-eun, though that had all been lost in the flames of eden, their ties now nothing but ashes. what of his mother, his brother? strained, as it always had been; one could only search for a place of love and belonging for so long, before accepting pariahdom. what happened to jae-ho, chang-hyun, and seok-yoon, needn't be explained.

jong-woo was innately, and fundamentally, alone.

how could it be that the ghost from his past knew him inside and out? if his knees didn't feel unstable before, they did now. moon-jo's words were gnawing, fuelling the rampant fire coursing through his veins as his chest rose and fell with sharp, rapid breaths, a twist of a figurative knife. it felt like his brain was about to explode. if he was shaking, he wouldn't acknowledge it. nails dug deep into his palm, enough to break through the skin and draw blood, the trail of crimson unheeded as he backpedaled once, rashly pointing at the other again. “you— i killed you! you're not real!”

he'd never avow to anyone just how much that ghost haunted him. the glimpses of his looming figure he'd fleetingly catch at random, his voice that jolted his conscience, and especially the myriad of hallucinated scenarios he had with the other, figments of his mystifying imagination. the poor medical team at the hospital being mistaken for the dentist several times, when his broken mind contorted all actuality. the line he walked between fantasy and reality was exceedingly thin.

it was as if he'd never really left the studio, tethered to its very foundation.

gaon looking at yohan