#kimjunhees

Myung-gi freezes in place for a moment when he sees her, like a ghost he wasn’t ready to face, then scoffs, the old arrogance slipping into his voice like armor, even though it cracks at the edges "...What am I doing here?" He avoids her eyes at first, then forces himself to meet them. "I could ask you the same thing, Junhee. You shouldn't be here. Not you." He gestures vaguely to the brutal, gray walls around them. His voice softens for half a second, but there’s guilt buried underneath. "This place’ll tear you apart. It’s not made for someone like you." He swallows hard, his jaw tightening. "Look... whatever you think you came here for, to yell at me, spit in my face, fine. I deserve it. I know." His voice drops low, bitter: "That scam, the investment… I thought I could fix everything for us. I really believed it until it swallowed me whole. And I didn’t talk to you because..." He trails off, the silence heavier than the words.

- + -

"We all smell like shit," Nam-Gyu would sit down as he spoke, bringing his knees to his chest as he looked to Jun-hee, "Besides, the little one is- swaddled...?" Is that the right word? He wasn't sure of himself, all he could see was the little baby girl wrapped up. He was a Club Promoter - not a midwife or nurse. He doesn't care if he gets a term or so wrong. But even so, he'd still lean closer, wanting to see better.

"...She has your nose..." Nam-Gyu giggled, as if forgetting all about that necklace he was desperate to get back, "Aaaahhhh maybe she'd have the amazing Myung-gi's eyes!" A brief, throaty laugh escaped his lips before slowly coming down with a small hum, rocking back and forth. Subconsciously, he needs his street medicine. But right now? He seems rather excited. He doesn't know how much of a soft spot he has for Jun-hee. Maybe that's good he doesn't know. It keeps her safe.

"Ooooh please let me hold her....I'll take my jacket off!" Which he already did as he was speaking, showing off his tattoos and healed scars. But at least no blood was on his arms.

𝙿𝚁𝙴𝚈 𝙳𝚁𝙰𝙶𝚂 𝙸𝚃𝚂𝙴𝙻𝙵 𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝚃𝙾𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙳 𝙰 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝚅𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙼𝙾𝚄𝚃𝙷, fattened jaws no longer disguising their hunger for the mangled flesh of the undesirables - greed cripples any autonomy of sympathy, lulling the poor to a nameless burial. we all bleed the same, leaving a trail of self-exposing crimson behind, a route demonstrating every move - every hesitation, every decided tug against the ground to meet the final game / the last gamble. empty eyes survey the mass of dead bodies still walking on timed limbs, lingering before the woman ( number 222. ) standing aside him, tear trails dried & leaving crevices of weakness in worn skin ; he has none left to shed, sewn lips void of conversation abiding the hollow ache of a missing molar, stomach rolling at the sight of the same cold rice offered as a poor excuse for a meal. he can’t bring himself to eat at the sight of ghosts.

hi, jun-hee! how are you?

for once, he feels as though he can turn off the bravado, allow the facade that has merged with his countenance to slip as he looks to jun-hee with pure concern and sympathy. dae-ho feels for her, reminded of the stressful pregnancy his youngest sister dealt with. it isn't the sort of thing he'd wish upon his worst enemy —— to be with child in this horrific place is a nightmare he cannot fathom. the stress, the train on her body. poor thing.