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The soju no longer burned as it passed through Sang-woo’s esophagus. Either it was completely numb to the alcohol or his brain was too fuzzy to comprehend that it hurt. It wasn’t that hurt he was trying to drown anyway.
There was a hole in his chest that had been there for nigh on 10 years. Or was it 15? Either way, it got deeper each day, the edges pulling back and blackening dangerously. Just when he thought it couldn’t hurt any more, he’d randomly remember something else, reminisce on it, and then feel even worse when he realized things had changed and he’d never feel like that again.
What was worse was that he wasn’t even in his own apartment. He was currently in his childhood bedroom in Ssangmun-dong, visiting his mother for the holidays, drinking himself to oblivion at 3:42 in the morning, and spiraling deeper and deeper into his own tortured mind.
Thankfully, his bedroom door was closed and his mother was asleep in her own bedroom so she had no idea how plastered and upset her son had become.
Things were always like this for Sang-woo during the holidays. Even though his family never celebrated the Christian Christmas holiday, he usually had a few days off at SNU and just wallowed alone in his dorm, drinking himself stupid and waiting until the clock hit 12:00am on New Year’s Day.
The desire to end it all was stronger than ever during that lonely couple of weeks. But he never could quite follow through, no matter how close he got.
Sang-woo lifted the bottle of soju to his lips once more, blinking slowly as he stared out of the open window. It was cold and his toes felt numb but he planned on smoking another cigarette in a few minutes so he couldn’t close it yet.
Why was he so melancholy today?
Could it have something to do with the polaroids scattered across his floor?
He purposefully did not look down at them as he finished the bottle. He knew what he’d see.
A big toothy grin. Wide, Bambi-like brown eyes. Soft, tousled, dark hair.
Over and over and over again. The same boy was in each and every one of those photographs, whether Sang-woo was also in them or not.
At some point, after high school but before he left for SNU, Sang-woo had found his dad’s Polaroid camera in a box of his things that he’d left behind when he passed. That entire summer was documented on 175 tiny 4x3 pictures.
When he left for SNU, Sang-woo made his mother promise that she’d keep them safe.
The next time he visited, four years later, he told her to throw them out.
But she hadn’t and now that he was freshly 41 years old and hadn’t spoken to that boy in the pictures in ten-or-fifteen years, they were slamming him in the chest with memories he’d thought he’d forgotten.
Sang-woo sat up with a grunt, tossing the empty soju bottle into the corner of his room with the other discarded bottles, wincing at the sound of glass on glass and praying it wouldn’t wake his mother.
He sighed out when his vision swam behind his glasses and held his head to steady it, closing his eyes to stop the room from spinning. He’d planned on getting drunk, of course, but he didn’t know it would happen so quickly or hit him this hard. Then again, he hadn’t eaten anything today.
“Fuck…” he mumbled, trying to breathe through the sudden wave of nausea.
A sudden breeze from the window scattered the photographs on his carpet even more and when he looked down, he saw one had stuck to his foot.
Sang-woo reached down and plucked it off, turning it over to look at it before he planned on throwing it to the side.
It was Gi-hun of course. Many of them were. He was grinning at something Sang-woo had cut off, dressed in bright yellow as if he knew…knew that he was Sang-woo’s sunsh-
God, that was stupid. Of course he didn’t know. And he was probably just smiling at one of his many, many girlfriends.
Sang-woo scowled at the thought, leaning back in his chair and pulling out his lighter. Without much thought, he held the little flame to the corner of the polaroid and watched the white border curl and blacken before he waved the flame out.
He told himself it was to avoid the fire alarm, but his drunken self decided to slide the photo into his wallet anyway.
For a while, he just stared at the ground around him, focusing on each photo individually. All of them told a story - the story of how Sang-woo realized he was in love with his best friend and then left him three months later.
He should call him.
Sang-woo chuckled at himself and the absurdity of that thought. Call Gi-hun? Now? Was he insane?
His chuckling subsided when he could feel tears leaking down his face and he removed his glasses to wipe his eyes on the back of his arm. Fuck, he felt stupid.
But the thought kept nagging at him and his drunken brain kept coming up with reasons why it was a good idea.
It’s been so long.
You’ll get to hear his voice.
You meant to call him when you were in town anyway.
You’re leaving in two days. If it goes wrong you can just leave and pretend it didn’t happen.
It’s the holidays. You could say that’s why you’re calling.
If you get too anxious, you can just hang up without saying anything.
You’ll get to hear his voice.
Over and over; the thoughts wouldn’t leave him alone. They made his head ache, and his hands, too, with the desire to pull out his phone.
But he didn’t have Gi-hun’s number.
Sang-woo sighed and slowly stood up, swaying a bit on his feet for a moment as the change in position had him reeling.
Slowly, and occasionally using the walls and counters for support, Sang-woo made his way out into the main part of the house. He hiccuped as quietly as he could and frowned as he tried to locate his mother’s bag in the dark.
It was, of course, hanging by the front door as always.
Her phone had to be in there.
Sang-woo stumbled across the carpet and leaned against the door as he leafed through her purse, sighing out in frustration when he couldn’t find it.
Taking one more look around, he finally located the phone charging on the counter, and rushed over to it before his logic brain could change his drunken mind.
When he turned the device on, he frowned when he saw that his mother’s lock screen photo was the same one she kept in her shop; the two of them smiling in front of SNU where Sang-woo had just graduated valedictorian.
It almost felt like a different person.
That Cho Sang-woo was excited about his future and proud of himself for what he’d already accomplished. The man in that photo was someone worthy of his mother’s praise.
The Sang-woo standing drunkenly in his mother’s kitchen at four in the morning, thumbs hovering over the screen of her phone was someone he didn’t even recognize anymore. He was a thief and a liar; a manipulator and a con man; an alcoholic and a coke fiend. He was still an important leader at a big investments firm and his paycheck was large enough to support a lavish lifestyle, but under the surface, he was a miserable, selfish, insatiable fraud.
He had everything he ever wanted. And nothing.
Sang-woo unlocked his mother’s phone with his own birthday and then scrolled through her contacts until he reached Gi-hun’s name, his thumb hovering over the characters for a while until he impulsively pressed it and shoved the phone against his ear.
It rang and rang and rang and Sang-woo almost gave up.
That was until he heard a click, a rustling, and then a yawning voice on the other end. “Mmm hello?”
Sang-woo panicked. That was definitely him. He always sounded the same when he was woken up, sleepy and disoriented and it kicked Sang-woo’s protective nature into overdrive.
“I can hear you breathing.” Gi-hun pointed out. “Who is this?” His voice went distant and then was suddenly back against the receiver.
“Ahjumma? ” He asked, his voice carrying a worried tone. “Are you okay? It’s past four in the morning.”
“ Hyung ,” Sang-woo’s sad brain made him say and there was another pause. Both men listened to each other breathe for a moment.
“Sang-woo,” Gi-hun said finally. “Why are you calling me so late?”
“I didn’t have your number,” Sang-woo said, as if that answered his question.
Gi-hun cleared his throat. “Yeah, it’s a new one.”
“I’m sorry. Did I wake…your wife?” Sang-woo pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning on his elbows against the counter as his head continued to spin.
Gi-hun was quiet for another moment, and then sighed sadly - a little embarrassed. “No…no, we’re not- I don’t live with her anymore. We’re not together. I’m…divorced.”
Good, Sang-woo thought quickly. “I’m sorry hyung. ” He said. “I should have called.”
“Ga-yeong lives with her too. I live alone now.” Gi-hun sounded more upset about that than he did about being divorced.
“Ga-yeong.” Sang-woo repeated. “I don’t think my omma told me her name. How old is she now?”
“Five.” Gi-hun answered. “She looks like her mom. Lucky her.” He chuckled softly.
“No, don’t say that hyung. You’re…” Beautiful. Intoxicating. Radiant. “… handsome.”
“And you’re drunk.” Gi-hun said, sounding slightly amused.
Sang-woo sighed out. “Yeah…I am.” He carefully took the phone off of the charger with shaking hands and walked slowly to the sofa, sitting down with one foot tucked under himself. “It’s really good to hear your voice.”
“It’s good to hear…from you too.” Gi-hun said. “It’s been so long. I’m sure you could have waited another few hours though.”
“Why? Do you have to work tomorrow?” Sang-woo asked.
“No,” He could hear the frown in his voice. He’d embarrassed him again. “But I did work tonight. I’m a chauffeur now.”
“Oh, so a fancy taxi driver.” Sang-woo teased lightly, his stomach rolling.
“I guess so,” Gi-hun still sounded pouty. “Why are you awake and drunk at four in the morning?”
Sang-woo leaned back against the cushions, closing his eyes. “I found some old photos. Remember that camera I found in my dad’s stuff?”
Gi-hun hummed as he thought. “I think so. The one that printed the pictures?”
“Yes, that one.” Sang-woo confirmed. “Remember all of the photos we took?”
“I couldn’t possibly remember all of them.” Gi-hun’s smile was back. “Where did you find them?”
“My mom kept them.” Sang-woo answered, removing his glasses to rub at his eye. “All of them. After I left.”
“So why are you drunk?” Gi-hun asked again. “What did you drink?“
“Soju ,” he answered, choosing the one that was easiest to answer first. “I started drinking because it hurt to look at them.”
Gi-hun was quiet.
“ Hyung ?”
“I’m here.” Gi-hun assured him, using the same tone as when they were kids and Sang-woo had fallen off his bike or got rejected by other kids his age.
“You should come look at them.” Sang-woo said before he could stop himself. What a ridiculous thing to say.
“Now? Sang-woo it’s four…four-twenty-two in the morning. Can I come over in the morning?” He asked.
“No, now.” Sang-woo protested, suddenly desperate to see him again. “I need you…to come over now. We can sit on the roof and talk like before.”
“Sang-woo…”
“Please, Gi-hun hyung.” Why was he begging? He was sure he sounded so pathetic, slurring his words and pleading for Gi-hun to come over like they weren’t both in their early-40s.
Gi-hun sighed out loudly, but was ultimately unable to resist when Sang-woo whined like that. He never was. “Fine. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’ll see you soon, Sang-“
“Don’t hang up,” Sang-woo said quickly. “Don’t hang up until you get here.”
Gi-hun laughed softly. “ Fine . I’m heading over now. Do you need a warm jacket? If we’re going to be sitting on the roof…”
No . “Sure.” Sang-woo answered. Who even was he?
“Okay,” Gi-hun sounded soft and surprised that Sang-woo had accepted his offer.
“Gi-hun?” Sang-woo yawned. “Will you bring more soju?”
Gi-hun paused. “I don’t think you need any more soju. I’ll bring water.”
“No, not water. I have water. Soju .” Sang-woo complained.
“I’m bringing water,” Gi-hun interrupted, amused and a bit melodically.
“Gi-hun-ah…” Sang-woo frowned, frustrated that Gi-hun still felt the need to mother him so much. He wasn’t 19 and strictly sober anymore. He knew, well, what his limits were. Sang-woo wasn’t a partier by any means. He was just a former broke, depressed college student who drank sometimes, then an even more depressed and anxious grad student who drank a lot and dabbled in stimulants to keep himself awake, and then a successful but depressed team leader at Joy Investments who couldn’t shove enough coke up his nose and drank enough caffeine to kill an elephant.
Wouldn’t Gi-hun be proud?
The thought made him feel ill.
Sang-woo pulled himself out of his miserable spiral and realized that Gi-hun had been talking for the last few minutes.
He hummed, pretending to have been listening the whole time. He could faintly hear the hum of a few passing cars between Gi-hun’s words and he knew that he was on his way. He forgot that the busses didn’t run this late - or early - and felt slightly bad that Gi-hun had to walk here in the cold. He hoped he didn’t have to walk very far.
“Are you still living in Ssangmun-dong?” Sang-woo asked him in a lull of silence.
“Never left,” Sang-woo heard him shiver. “Ga-yeong is here so I’m not going anywhere.”
For some reason Sang-woo was sad to hear it. But why? It wasn’t like he could take him when he went back home.
“What about you? Are you…moving back or-“
“I’m just here until Monday,” Sang-woo answered. “For the holiday. Mom insisted this year since I was so busy last year with the…the project and the year before that because we expanded the firm and got a lot of new employees who needed training and…the year before that because-“
“You got promoted.” Gi-hun answered for him. “Your mom told me only a hundred times.”
Sang-woo was quiet for a moment.
“I knew you’d get there. It sounds like you’ve been doing well.” Gi-hun was audibly smiling.
If only you knew , Sang-woo thought bitterly.
“I’m proud of you.” Gi-hun said and it was so genuine that it made Sang-woo’s chest ache.
“I don’t deserve that,” Sang-woo sighed and leaned his head back against the back of the sofa again. “You don’t know what I’ve done. I-I’m not…a good person.”
Gi-hun chuckled. “I think you’re drunk and feeling sorry for yourself.”
Sang-woo scowled silently. “No, hyung. I-“
“Whatever you’ve done, it doesn’t matter to me. I still think you’re great.” Gi-hun was still smiling. “What, it’s not like you murdered someone right?”
Sang-woo sighed out. “No. I haven’t killed anyone.”
“See? You’re fine.” Gi-hun was always so optimistic about everything. He always gave people the benefit of the doubt and if they disappointed him, he gave them another chance. That was just his nature. He was genuinely one of the kindest, gentlest people Sang-woo had ever met and always had been. Even when they were young and Sang-woo came off stiff and awkward, Gi-hun was always there to offer a helping hand or an ear to listen.
And he was always the best when it came to dating. Sang-woo had been the third wheel enough to observe how Gi-hun treated his lovers. He was attentive and generous - both with his time and resources - and he held a lot of respect for every girl and young woman he dated, even after ending the relationship.
Sang-woo was surprised the older man was divorced. Maybe it was his rose-tinted glasses, but Gi-hun seemed like the perfect partner. Maybe life had changed him too.
“…and I told her you would be here. She’s been so excited. You’re all she’s been talking about.”
Sang-woo flushed, realizing he had zoned out again. He assumed Gi-hun was talking about his mother.
“Thank you for visiting her,” Sang-woo said honestly.
“Of course,” Gi-hun smiled. “She’s like a second omma to me. You know that.”
That was very true. Sometimes he felt like his mom loved Gi-hun more than him, but that was just the foolish jealousy of a child. He loved that his mother still had Gi-hun.
He knew Gi-hun would take care of her if he…when he… left.
“Okay, I’m on your floor. I’m going to hang up now.” Gi-hun warned him. “I’m not going to knock. Just open the door okay?”
“Okay,” Sang-woo agreed, slowly standing up with a grunt as a couple of beeps indicated that Gi-hun had hung up.
He swayed toward the door, resting his forehead against the wood for a moment to steady himself. And then he opened it.
Gi-hun stood there, like he said he would be, arms clasped around a bundle of jackets and what looked to be a blanket. Gi-hun, himself, wore a bright blue baseball cap that shadowed his eyes until he looked up at Sang-woo with a smile that was just as blinding as ever.
His hair curled around his ears where it had grown out and his face was a bit scruffy, unshaved for at least a week. But even still, that was Gi-hun standing there in front of him for the first time in….god, forever.
“Hey Sang-woo,” Gi-hun actually sounded relieved. Happy to see him. “Mind if I come in? It’s cold out here in this hallway.”
“Of course,” Sang-woo nodded and stepped to the side, leaning against the wall as Gi-hun stepped inside the door and toed off his shoes.
He carried the bundle to the sofa and set it down before shoving his hands in his hoodie pockets and rocking back and forth on his feet. “You look good.” He pointed out, gesturing to Sang-woo’s general outfit. It was only a thin white button-down, rolled up to his elbows, and a pair of black slacks that matched the suit jacket that was still in his old bedroom. None of it was cheap, and it fit him well, but it definitely wasn’t a special suit. It wasn’t one of his favorites.
“So do you,” he slurred slightly and honestly, pushing his glasses up when the nerves became too much.
Gi-hun was dressed down in a pair of black denim jeans and a maroon hoodie zipped halfway over a simple gray t-shirt. And that stupid hat. His face carried the lines of his age but Sang-woo was pleased to see that most of them were caused by smiling.
He looked a lot different than the boy in the burned polaroid in his wallet, but his eyes were the same. They still crinkled at the corners when he smiled at Sang-woo and they still sparkled with hope and laughter. He’d changed so much, but also not at all.
Gi-hun looked around the room, still smiling, though he did look pretty tired. “Everything still looks the same.” He said. “Like this place has been stuck in time.”
Sang-woo glanced around too and then hiccuped suddenly. “Y-yeah. Mom said she wanted me to recognize the place when I came home.”
Gi-hun smiled again at that, still looking around, eyes focusing on things he surely recognized from when they were young and Gi-hun would come over to “study”.
“Should we…” Sang-woo trailed off and gestured in the general direction of the stairs, where they could access the roof through his bedroom window.
“Yeah, of course.” Gi-hun nodded and then quickly scooped the blanket bundle back up. From the bundle, he pulled out a bottle of water and offered it to Sang-woo with a sly little smile. “Drink this first.”
“No, I-“
“The whole thing. Cmon.” Gi-hun lightly shook the bottle at him. “You’ll be glad that you did in the morning.”
Sang-woo frowned for a moment, but then took the bottle from Gi-hun, opening the cap and taking a long drink. He wouldn’t admit it, but he had been parched. However, as soon as the water hit his stomach, it flipped and he stopped drinking with a hiccup. “Ugh I can’t-“
“Then take small sips.” Gi-hun compromised. “But you really should drink the whole thing eventually. Have you eaten?”
Sang-woo couldn’t lie to him so he didn’t say anything.
Gi-hun sighed with a disapproving look. “Soju on an empty stomach?”
Sang-woo shrugged slightly.
Gi-hun glanced past him, into the kitchen. “Do you have any crackers at least?”
Sang-woo shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”
“You should eat.” Gi-hun said, taking on his usual motherly tone. Sang-woo was slightly ashamed to admit he’d missed it. “Something like bread or-“
“Hyung,” he complained. “I’m okay. ”
Gi-hun searched his eyes and Sang-woo didn’t like the feeling that it gave him. Like Gi-hun was looking deeper than just his empty stomach. After some hesitation, he rolled his eyes and looked away. “Fine. But when you throw up, I won’t say I told you so.”
A small smile actually spread over Sang-woo’s lips before he hid it with the water bottle. He was catching feelings again, and fast. Gi-hun’s concern was adorably obnoxious, but no one (besides his mother) had worried like that over him in a decade.
“Lets go to the roof,” Sang-woo suggested and Gi-hun’s shoulders relaxed a bit as he nodded in agreement and stepped out of the way as Sang-woo reached past him to plug his mother’s phone back in. Still, he was so close that Sang-woo could smell the cigarette smoke clinging to his clothes and the faintest scent of shampoo.
Sang-woo shuffled past him awkwardly, setting a hand on his arm as he passed and then lead the way to his room.
Gi-hun paused in the doorway, glancing around the room as his smile slowly faded. He’d seen the empty bottles, cigarette butts and the scattered photos and seemed a bit worried, but he didn’t mention anything other than the photos. “Wow,” he breathed, leaning over to study one of the polaroids on the ground. Sang-woo cleared his throat and forced his eyes to stay off of Gihun’s backside.
“I remember this day.” Gi-hun smiled, picking the photo up. It was a selfie, as the kids called it, of the two of them standing shoulder-to-shoulder and throwing up peace signs. They were grinning at the camera; so young and happy to be alive and just existing together. “Can I…keep this?”
Sang-woo’s heart ached at the wistful look on Gi-hun’s face as he studied the photo and then nodded, chewing at the corner of his thumbnail. “Of course. Take any of them.” He turned his back to Gi-hun to begin removing the curtains from his window so he didn’t notice Gi-hun scoop up another photo of a young Sang-woo and stuff it in his pocket.
Once the curtains were draped neatly over his chair, Sangwoo opened it as wide as he could get it and looked out, to the left at the ladder that led up to the roof. Had they really done this as kids? The ladder itself looked rusted and shaky at best. And there was no way Gi-hun would make it with that bundle of blankets and he, drunk and already swaying on his feet.
Sang-woo sighed as he turned around. “We can’t go this way.” He said.
Gi-hun raised his brows and then chuckled. “Of course we can. We did it all the time.”
“15 years ago.” Sang-woo pointed out. “Now we’re old men. I’m drunk and you have blankets.”
“ Old men ,” Gi-hun scoffed and moved past him to look out of the window himself, twisting his head around to look up at where the ladder ended. He then backed back up into Sang-woo’s room with what could only be described as a pout. “It does look dangerous…”
Sang-woo nodded and began working on putting the curtains back up. “We’ll have to take the stairs.”
Gi-hun groaned about his knees, but it turned into a chuckle. “Maybe we are old men.”
Sang-woo couldn’t help but smirk as he turned back toward him, the window shut tightly and curtains pulled closed. Things felt easy, like they could just fall back into their roles; teasing and joking and laughing until the sun came up. Like he wasn’t completely miserable and alone and ready to end it all 99% of the time. “Come on, we’ll need to be quiet.” He passed Gi-hun on his way back out of the room, flushing slightly when he felt their hands brush.
Gi-hun followed him to the door and gently steadied him with a hand on his back when he nearly tripped over the rug. “Careful,” he whispered and glanced at Sang-woo’s mother’s door.
Sang-woo had to sit down to pull on his shoes, but he was glad they didn’t have laces. He didn’t know if he could focus enough to tie them properly. Gi-hun just slipped his sneakers back on, waiting patiently for Sang-woo.
When he was finished, Gi-hun reached down, offering his hand for support. Sang-woo hesitated for a moment but then took his hand, using it to steady himself as he stood.
“Thanks,” he mumbled and then quickly pulled his hand away when he realized he was still clamped down on Gi-hun’s palm.
Gi-hun just smiled sweetly at him.
Sang-woo quietly opened the front door and allowed Gi-hun to step out first before he followed and quietly shut the door behind them.
Once they were both out in the hall, Gi-hun held out the extra hoodie he’d brought with him. It was thick and navy blue, with the initials SNU printed in white across the front. Gi-hun seemed a bit amused about that. Of course he would bring this hoodie to Sang-woo and think it was clever.
Sang-woo took it anyway, pulling it over his head and pushing up his glasses when they slid down his nose. The warmth from the extra layer was immediately comforting. It smelled of laundry soap and very faintly of cigarette smoke. Sang-woo was a tiny bit disappointed that it was clean. “Where did you get this?” He asked, smoothing his hair down.
“Online,” Gi-hun answered, draping the blanket around his own shoulders. “I was going to send you a photo of me wearing it, for fun, but…I found out my wife was filing for divorce and I forgot.”
Sang-woo gave him a small frown, “Sorry, hyung .” He sighed and pulled out his pack of cigarettes, offering one to Gi-hun too. The older man took the cigarette between his index and middle fingers and Sang-woo lit his first before lighting his own.
He pocketed the lighter in the front of the hoodie he was wearing and then gestured for Gi-hun to follow him. The lights were bright in the hall and made Sang-woo’s woozy head ache. Thankfully, he wasn’t stumbling anymore which told him he was sobering up a bit.
He led his friend to the end of the hall and opened a door to the stairwell, holding it open for Gi-hun before he went in himself. It was even colder in the stairs so he shoved his hands in his pocket as they climbed the last flight to the roof.
The door opened with a loud metallic creak and Sang-woo cringed slightly as it echoed down the stairs. Gi-hun shivered slightly when the bitter cold wind hit his face so Sang-woo went out first, allowing Gi-hun to stay close to block the wind a bit.
There were two old weather-beaten chairs on the roof, surrounded by a few empty soju bottles and cigarette butts. To their left was a garden, neatly maintained, and in front of them was the rest of Ssangmun-dong, quiet and sleepy. In the distance, they could see the bright lights of the city, always awake and always moving. Sang-woo’s new home.
Gi-hun walked slowly to the edge of the roof, looking out at those lights as he took a drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke out toward the dark sky. Sang-woo joined him, leaning on the concrete barrier with his elbows. It was much colder up here than it had been in his room, even with the window open.
They’d spent a lot of time up here in their youth, especially after they started high school. This was where Gi-hun had told him about his first kiss and all the kisses afterwards. This is where they’d tried their first cigarette and then smoked hundreds more, flicking their ashes onto the street below as they talked about life and love and the universe. This is where Sang-woo had stood on the edge of oblivion until Gi-hun found him and naively assumed he was balancing up there for fun, hopping up to try it as well and distracting Sang-woo from his heartache with worry for the older boy’s safety.
This is where Sang-woo told him he was leaving.
“I don’t really live alone,” Gi-hun sighed, breaking the silence as he ashed his cigarette over the edge. “I live with my mom. Until I can get back on my feet…or until I win the lottery.”
Sang-woo glanced over at him and hummed quietly, taking a deep drag and then blowing the smoke out of the corner of his mouth
“Are you still betting at the tracks?” Sang-woo asked, looking down at his own hands and rubbing them together.
Gi-hun flushed slightly. “Not as much as I used to.” It was clear that Gi-hun was embarrassed of his problem and how much it had cost him. “How did you know I do that?”
“My mom,” Sang-woo answered, taking another drag, “She also told me about the strike.”
Gi-hun pulled his blanket tighter with one hand, the other letting his cigarette dangle between his fingers before he brought it to his lips. “That was a while ago.”
“It looked bad on the news.” Sang-woo said, remembering the police raid that led to the death of five dismissed workers, and then the string of suicides afterward.
“It was worse,” Gi-hun sighed, looking down at his cigarette. He paused for a while and Sang-woo assumed that he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. But then he spoke again, “My friend died in front of me. He was beaten while I hid behind the barricade and then the cops, they just left him, bleeding out of his…his ears and nose. I was trying to save his life when my wife went into labor.” He took a long drag and blew it out shakily. “Ga-yeong was born while I was still trapped inside.”
Sang-woo couldn’t possibly imagine how painful and terrifying that must have been for Gi-hun, only to then be blacklisted from working at any of the surrounding assembly plants for his part in the strike. That was the reason many of his coworkers had taken their own lives. Sang-woo was glad Gi-hun hadn’t. He couldn’t imagine getting that call.
“Do you see your daughter often?” Sang-woo asked, stubbing the butt of his cigarette out on the barrier and then shoving his hands in his pocket.
“Not as often as I’d like,” Gi-hun admitted. “Mi-eun has full custody, a new husband and a baby.” He took one last drag and stubbed his butt out as well. “I want to be a good dad. I used to be, I think, but I just can’t compete with what her stepdad does for her. You’d think I’d hate him for being better than me but I-“
“You’re glad he’s good to her.” Sang-woo finished for him when there was a lull. “That’s maturity, hyung.”
Gi-hun glanced his way with wide eyes and then a soft smile spread over his face. “Thanks.” He glanced back at the chairs then and then gestured to them. “Let’s sit down.”
Sang-woo nodded and walked over, sitting in the chair to the left as Gi-hun planted himself in the other one. When Sang-woo glanced over, Gi-hun was holding the blanket out as an offering, half of it draped over his own shoulders.
Sang-woo almost refused, but his other half - the inebriated half that just wanted to get closer to Gi-hun - made him scoot his chair over until their arms were touching. Gi-hun draped the blanket over Sang-woo’s shoulders and then pulled it tight, huddling even closer. Sang-woo could smell his shampoo and see every pore and crease in his face, even in the darkness. His warmth filled the space under the blanket and soaked into Sang-woo’s bones.
“So how is work?” Gi-hun asked, wrapping his arms around himself and huddling over.
Sang-woo shrugged. He didn’t know what to say. It was the same as it always was; fast-paced and stressful. Commission on investments was only 5% but Joy Investments was one of the top firms in Seoul so they were constantly selling large shares. And that didn’t include the fraudulent investments and IPOs that were making Sang-woo even more money…well, for a while. Lately, things had taken a bit of a downturn. It wasn’t terrible yet, but he did have to take out a loan. He hoped that his investments would move over this speed bump and start doing better soon.
“It’s fine, you know…work.” He shrugged. “My team is great.”
Gi-hun smiled, “I bet they are, with you as their leader.”
Sang-woo flushed and looked away so Gi-hun wouldn’t notice. He didn’t know how to take the other man’s praise. He never did.
Things were quiet for a while as they sat there in the cold, arms pressed tightly against one another for warmth. Sang-woo actually felt himself dozing off until Gi-hun broke the silence, vulnerability thick in his voice.
“I missed you…after you left.” He admitted, not looking at Sang-woo. “It never got easier. I’m happy for you, of course. I just wish you called more. Or wrote me back.”
Sang-woo felt guilt rise in his throat. “I’m sorry, hyung. Things have been…busy.”
“I know,” Gi-hun looked over at him finally and Sang-woo turned his head to meet his eyes. They were so dark they were almost black and he could feel the older man’s hot breath on his lips.
“I’ll try to call more,” he promised. “Now that I have your number. It would be nice to hear your voice.” Fuck, what was he even saying?
Gi-hun’s lips curled up a tiny bit. “My voice?”
Sang-woo flushed and let out a frustrated puff of air, shaking his head as he averted his eyes again. “I mean, a friend’s…your-“ He rubbed at his eye in embarrassment.
“It’s okay,” Gi-hun said, his hand seeking Sang-woo’s under the blanket. He squeezed it like he used to when they were kids and Sang-woo conceded, turning his hand palm-up to accommodate. “Don’t you have friends back in Seoul?”
Sang-woo shrugged as he looked out over the barrier. “I don’t really have the time.”
Gi-hun huffed out a laugh. “You always say that. No time for friends in high school, no time for friends in college, no time for…me…now.”
Sang-woo frowned over at him. “ Hyung- ”
Gi-hun searched his eyes for a long time and Sang-woo felt embarrassed. It was true. He hadn’t made time for Gi-hun and that wasn’t fair. After everything Gi-hun had done for him growing up, he could have at least called.
“Is there a girl?” Gi-hun asked him and Sang-woo couldn’t help himself. He scoffed and shook his head, looking away again. A girl . How ridiculous.
“ No,” he answered. “There’s no girl. ”
“Then a man?” Gi-hun asked and Sang-woo looked at him in disbelief. Was he really asking him that right now? W-what was he supposed to say to that? Yes?
“Why would you ask that?” Sang-woo asked, more frustration in his voice than he meant to reveal, removing his hand from under Gi-hun’s.
“It’s fine if there is,” Gi-hun assured him. “My coworker had a husband and kids and everything. He was very-“
“There’s no other man.” Sang-woo interrupted, glaring at the barrier in front of him.
Gi-hun was quiet for a moment and Sang-woo leaned back in his chair.
“Why did you say other?” Gi-hun asked.
“Hmm?” Sang-woo looked over at him. Gi-hun looked like he was trying to work something out in his head.
“You said ‘there’s no other man.’ Why did you say other?”
Sang-woo swallowed hard. He hadn’t realized he’d slipped like that. “It’s not- it doesn’t mean anything, Gi-hun. Why are you interrogating me?”
“I’m not interrogating you, Sang-woo, I’m just curious about your life. You’re my best friend.” Gi-hun sounded defensive and sad and it made Sang-woo feel even more guilty and that guilt irritated him.
“After all these years, I’m your best friend? Don’t you see how sad that is?” Sang-woo asked, standing up. He couldn’t stand being eye-level with Gi-hun right now. Not when he was looking at him like that.
Gi-hun looked hurt. Incredibly so. His eyes were fucking huge, brows curved upward and lips parted as he struggled to respond. It made Sang-woo feel like the biggest piece of shit in Seoul.
He sighed out deeply and then dug his cigarettes out with shaking hands, letting one dangle between his lips as he lit it, cupping the flame to protect it from the wind. He took a long, deep drag that burned his lungs and then let it all out, trying not to let his tears escape.
Sang-woo felt the barest touch on his wrist and turned his head, looking down at the hand on his arm and then up into those big, sad eyes. Gi-hun stood beside him, looking up at him with a forgiveness that Sang-woo didn’t deserve.
“Of course you’re my best friend.” Gi-hun said softly. “Even after all these years. I never forgot about you.”
Sang-woo felt his heart shatter, and his eyelids fluttered as he tried even harder to keep his tears at bay. He didn’t know what to say so he didn’t say anything.
“I know you feel like you’re all alone but…I’m never going to leave unless you can still find me. And I don’t think you understand how loved you are, Sang-woo. Not just by this neighborhood or your mother.” Gi-hun said. “But me too.”
That did it. Hot tears spilled down Sang-woo’s face and his brows crumpled, his usually stoic face twisting into one displaying years of grief and heartbreak. “Then why didn’t you wait?”
Gi-hun searched his eyes. “I did wait, Sang-woo. I waited for years. And you only called twice.”
Sang-woo lifted his shaking hand to take another pull from his cigarette, blowing the smoke out between them. Gi-hun didn’t blink.
“Was I supposed to wait forever? You left me Sang-woo, and I’m glad you did. I’m so proud of you. But if I hadn’t married Mi-eun, I wouldn’t have Ga-yeong and I’d still be waiting.” Gi-hun was trying to be reasonable but something selfish in Sang-woo’s broken heart said yes.
Sang-woo ashed his cigarette to the side and then took a drag, coughing slightly. The ache in his chest was deeper than his lungs. “That wasn’t fair of me to ask, hyung. I’m sorry.”
Gi-hun’s hand slid up his arm to his jaw and he turned Sang-woo’s face toward his own. “You’re here now.” He said quietly.
“Not for long,” Sang-woo practically whispered, unable to keep his eyes from Gi-hun’s lips. “Only for a couple more days.”
“Even still,” Gi-hun’s breath ghosted over his face as Sang-woo turned fully toward him. “That just means you’ll have to come back sooner next time.”
“I will,” Sang-woo said absently, not really paying attention to what he was saying. All he was thinking about was how close Gi-hun was, how warm he felt, and how much he wanted to get closer.
“Do you promise?” Gi-hun asked. “Will you come back sooner if I promise to wait for you?”
“I promise,” Sang-woo whispered, and then louder, “I promise.”
Forgotten, his cigarette dropped to the ground at their feet and his hand moved up to cup Gi-hun’s face and then the back of his neck, desperately. Gi-hun’s hands moved to grip the sides of his hoodie, pressing forward until their chests were flush.
Sang-woo nearly sobbed, “ Hyung . Please.” He was aching for it, the final few centimeters between them. The peak of the wave. The pinnacle of their relationship. But he couldn’t do this without permission.
Gi-hun licked his lips and then nodded, just once.
And then the world stopped.
Their lips crashed together; frantic, burning and hungry. Gi-hun’s hat fell to the ground behind him as Sang-woo towered over him, nearly bending the older man back with the intensity. His left hand cupped the back of Gi-hun’s neck, his hair threaded between his fingers, and the other held his arm, pulling him impossibly closer.
His kiss was possessive. It wasn’t soft and sweet and tender like Gi-hun deserved. It held all of Sang-woo’s desires and his loneliness. Decades of not just wanting Gi-hun, but needing him like oxygen. Right now, Gi-hun was his. He belonged to Sang-woo.
Gi-hun’s grip on his hoodie tightened and he actually whimpered into Sang-woo’s mouth as their lips moved together.
Sang-woo was the ocean, devouring and consuming everything in his path and Gi-hun was drowning in him, but he wasn’t kicking for the surface either. The burn in his lungs was more than welcome.
Sang-woo pulled away from his lips, only to press hot kisses to his cheek, his temple, and then his jaw. His neck was next, soft and pale and warm against his mouth. Gi-hun made a strangled sound when Sang-woo worried the skin there gently with his teeth, and then moved back up to claim his lips once more as his arms crushed Gi-hun’s body against his chest.
Gi-hun’s hands knotted in the back of Sang-woo’s hoodie as he gave as good as he was getting.
Pulling away from his lips again, Sang-woo buried his face in Gi-hun’s neck, panting as he held him. His lips felt bruised and hot, aching from the force with which he kissed his best friend.
Holy shit, he kissed Gi-hun.
This roof held so many memories. It was where they’d laughed and played and cried and yelled and smoke and drank and now it was also where they’d kissed like their world was ending.
Gi-hun began chuckling, then, warm as Sang-woo’s hair tickled his nose and his arms still held Sang-woo’s sides.
Sang-woo pulled back and looked down at him, his frozen heart melting just a bit at the sight of Gi-hun’s face, crinkled sweetly with laughter.
“What is it?” He asked.
“If we had done this earlier, I probably would have followed you all the way to SNU.” Gi-hun admitted. “There is no way I would have let you leave me…after kissing me like that.”
Sang-woo couldn’t help the smile that spread over his lips. It was a nice thought. He wondered how things might have gone if Gi-hun had followed him to Seoul. In another lifetime, maybe he had. Maybe he would.
“So are you going to let me leave now?” Sang-woo asked, raising a hand to gently pet and stroke Gi-hun’s soft, messy hair. Gi-hun physically leaned into the touch and sighed out.
“I don’t know yet.” He said, gripping him tighter. “I still have until Monday to decide.”
Sang-woo closed his eyes and pressed their foreheads together, breathing his air. Part of him wished Gi-hun would say no, absolutely not. Come back home.
“But you’re mine until then.” Gi-hun declared firmly. “ Jagiya. ”
Sang-woo’s hands found their way to the hem of Gi-hun’s shirt, gently tracing the skin above his waistline and making the older man shiver in his arms.
“Does that mean I have to stop calling you hyung?” Sang-woo asked, pulling back and cupping the side of his head.
“Please don’t.” Gi-hun begged, eyes wide. “Please don’t ever stop.”
Sang-woo smiled again, smoothing his thumb across his friend’s bottom lip. “I’ll never stop calling you hyung. You know that.”
Gi-hun grinned up at him.
And then, as the rising sun cast golden rays across their faces, he kissed him again.