Work Text:
GU JAGYEONG SINCERELY HOPED THAT HE WOULD HAVE A LESS-THAN-TERRIBLE DAY TODAY, BUT LIFE ALWAYS HAD A WAY OF SCREWING OVER HIS WISHES.
Stumbling through the door of his city apartment, he held onto the white walls to stop him falling. Groaning at the burning of his face, his body, he knocked over a few of the hundred alcohol bottles in his path, lined erratically all along the hallway floor.
Must clean these up, he thought dazingly, though he was well aware that the bottles would keep piling until he would suffocate.
“Fuck…” he got out, voice gravelly, burnt from raging curses upon his supposed friends, the people he worked with as he groggily walked into his bedroom. His fingers pressed on buttons, lights flickering on and off, but caring little whether his room shed light on him at all.
This was a particularly terrible day.
He saw his bed before him, and it was like it had its own magnetic pull the way he gravitated towards it. He slumped into his sheets, groaning slightly at the pain, pulsating around his body. The Seoul winter was slowly freezing him dead, despite his sweater and coat donned up to his neck, but a small part of him was willing to let his soul harden in this chill.
He could feel it already — his eyes closing, his spirit ceasing to work.
“Mijeong…”
The only word he could remember now.
“…Mijeong.”
That was when he sensed a vibration.
He opened his eyes.
Another vibration.
Mijeong.
Hand sliding into his coat pocket, he brought out his phone, trying to see who was calling him at this hour.
How he managed to smile was beyond him.
Answering the call, he pressed the phone to his ear, sighing at the sheer stamina it took for such a mere action.
“Hello?”
Despite the imminent pain, his smile widened.
“Mijeong.”
-
YEOM MIJEONG COULD NOT HAVE RUN FAST ENOUGH.
The stupid bastard had told her to take her time, but she knew better than listen to his words.
I’m fine, Mijeong, really. I simply want you next to me.
A sharp exhale was her answer to this recent memory.
Shopping bag scrunching with every hasty step, the girl ran as fast as her heeled-feet could let her, finding the lavish building where the injured drunkard resided.
Thundering up the steps, she found his apartment, sleek black door the only barrier between her and him.
She knocked. Twice.
She checked the doorknob, turning it — the door clicked open.
Instantly Mijeong was welcomed with crowds of bottles on the floor. She should have been used to them by now, but each empty glass bottle, whether that be soju, whiskey, or wine, had her staring at them for a moment longer.
How much can a man truly drink? Carefully, she side-stepped the hundred bottles, feet landing on the empty spaces of the marble floor. How much alcohol could he consume before the alcohol consumes him?
It was ironic, really, with the new bottles of soju tinkling within her shopping bag, but her mind wandered further than she thought tonight. Perhaps because the man who lived under this lavish roof was in a particularly great mess tonight.
“Ah, Mijeong, that better be you!”
Turning the right towards the bedroom, she found the origins of the exclamation — sprawled across the chocolate-brown bed, sheets crumpled upon his legs, Gu Jagyeong turned to face her, eyes closed.
Mijeong stopped when she saw the new additions to his features.
He had no doubt gotten into a fight.
His rough features were bloodied, one eyebrow slit and bruises peppered over his high cheekbones. His neck exposed redness, but his jumper, further hidden from his huge beige jumper, dared not show her the rest of the damage.
She waited at the edge of the bedroom, hand still holding the soju-filled bag. The tinkling of the bottles had the man’s eyes fluttering open.
Those eyes, which found hers in an instant.
A pained smile formed on his lips.
“You bring presents.”
The presenter answered him by raising the shopping bag, bottles jingling. He sighed in relief, closing his eyes once again.
As she took her shoes off, placing them next to the empty drinks, she looked over his face — the damage she assumed he refused to fix.
“Will you heal your wounds, Gu?”
He tsked twice, indicating a negative.
She did not say anything, putting her own work bag onto the floor, going into the kitchen right next door. The sinks and countertops were immaculately clean, but that was mostly because the man never used any of his facilities, save for the kitchen to wash his shot glasses. There were some in the sink now as she glanced over, toppled over in careless fashion.
Lights flickered in the room, a chill residing over the vast space of the apartment as she turned back to the man laying in his dark bed, fingers massaging his forehead.
“Will you let me heal your wounds, Gu?”
He opened his eyes once again.
“I’ll be fine.”
Mijeong took a shot glass from the few he managed to clean before, walking over to him. “Do you have a small cloth?” she asked, looking around the bare space.
His smile curled mischievously. “So many questions tonight.” he continued to sooth his headache. “Don’t tell me I scared you with my phone call.”
A shake of her head was her answer. “I only want to clean up the injuries.” After finding nothing, she resorted to her scarf, soft enough to dab on skin. “You won’t be able to call yourself handsome when your face swells red like an apple.”
The indecipherable smirk remained. “You will still find me handsome, though.”
Scoffing was her answer as she walked over to the bed. Settling down on the sheets, she brought out a singular bottle, putting the shot glass on the bedside table. Hearing the soju crack open had the man beside her sighing, straightening himself as he sat on the bed.
He made to take the shot glass, but she stopped with her hand, slapping his own. “Use your own soju,” she said, taking off her scarf. “I need to use this for your wounds.”
Raising a brow, he countered, “So you bought soju, but not medicine or bandages from the store.”
“Two birds with one stone,” she merely said, dunking a small part of her scarf into the shot glass. “After I clean you up, you can drink the rest.”
Nodding slowly, he looked to the floor-length windows, the incoming snow falling on the city streets far away. It took him another few minutes before he spoke again. “I haven’t drank today, actually.”
She parted her mouth. He could almost sense her shock, for he chuckled, albeit with little humour. “I thought about skipping the morning drink, and actually went ahead with it.” He locked his hands together on his sheets. “You know how I feel every morning if I don’t drink at least a few shots, but…I figured I’d try.”
Watching him intently, she let herself inquire of his newfound decision. “And how did that work out?”
Gu kept his eyes on the falling snow behind his windows. “Today’s a Saturday, Mijeong.”
Silence followed.
Saturday — the day Gu inspects his club, the weekly revenue, and takes a liquor shot with every document he clears. She should have known an alcoholic could not retain an alcoholic-free lifestyle, if only for the day.
She wished to tell him that such things do not matter. That the mornings, when he sees all those from his past that haunt him, he should laugh them away.
But the both of them knew that life was never this easy — nor was his crippling addiction to alcohol.
However, she had made a habit of being honest with him. “Your alcoholism would have caught up with you later on anyway.” She took the shot glass, holding it out to him. “Here.”
Looking back, his gaze fell to what she held. “You have the first drink,” she added.
He did not hesitate.
It was pure instinct for him, gravitating towards the soju as he took the glass from her. His fingers, however, brushed against hers, and the unaccustomed warmth took him aback. His heart lurched at the caress, downing the shot in one go in hopes to calm it.
It had little effect.
Matching her warmth with his cold voice seemed like the best option next. “For someone who comments on my drinking, you don’t mind contributing towards it.”
Her smile only made him more nervous. More so when she said the next words.
“Consider it my first act of worship, then.”
He nearly dropped the glass.
Worship. The act of idolisation, complete submission before another. Finding solace in something, some one who you consider your superior in every way.
Gu Jagyeong could never forget the meaning of such words.
It must have been a lifetime when Mijeong demanded such an act from him, back when the both of them were far away from Seoul — residing in the countryside where simple old love, dislike and other human emotions did not exist. Living side by side in the farmlands, with no one but the crops, the animals and each other for company, it was fated that the two of them would gravitate towards each other.
So clearly he remembered her declaration to him, so many months ago. That fateful night, when he cursed his existence and she decided to change it forever.
I want to feel whole for once, so worship me.
Love is not enough. Worship me!
Simple words were spoken that night, but it altered his entire future. Even now, her simply mentioning it had his entire world pausing, reminiscing on the past.
He should know better than to live in the past. He could not help it, though, when Mijeong resided within it.
Her voice snapped him out of his spiral.
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten, Gu,” she mused, smug at his wonder-struck expression.
His eyes robbed her of her mischievous amusement. Instead, they offered her a strange intensity. “I will never forget, Mijeong,” he rasped.
Good.
Resorting to filling the glass up once again, she set it to the bedside table, taking off her scarf. “I’m gonna treat you now, so stay still.”
Although he knew he never moved around, he did as she bid him, deathly still as he watched her dip a corner of her scarf into the soju. “I still can’t believe you’re ruining your clothes and my drink.”
“I can always buy a new scarf.” She turned to face him. “You cannot buy a new face.”
“Hmm…” he raked a hand through his hair, exposing another scratch upon his forehead.
Shifting closer, she gently brought the wet corner upon his face.
Instantly hissing, she repelled it slightly. “I’m sorry,” she offered, yet went right back.
A small silence instilled the room as Mijeong worked, lips pursed in focus and mind acutely aware of the stare which was pinned on her. She could tell he wished to say something, but held back. Perhaps he wanted another shot — maybe he wanted to give her an explanation on the causes of his such bruises.
Maybe she was just overthinking.
The girl worked on a particularly nasty scar, just under his cheekbone, when she began to talk. “I met up with my Liberation Club today.”
“Liberation Club…?” He got out, wanting to talk more but her fingers, involuntarily caressing his skin in the process of fixing him, was ruining his stable speech.
Since when had he become so erratic concerning her touches?
“Oh, it’s just these two guys, one girl and I talking about things we feel burdened by. You know, life and all that.” He seethed at the alcohol she used on the wound, but it seemed to look a little cleaner. “It’s all about liberating ourselves from such problems.”
“I thought you…” her hands then left his face, and he did not know why his heart sank. Quickly, he finished his question. “I thought you made it to get out of joining clubs?”
“Well, yes, but…” she dumped her scarf corner into the soju again, continuing her work. “I suppose all of us started to find comfort in it.”
When she looked at him, for a mere second, she swore she found his eyes sparkling. “I thought only I was supposed to make you feel whole.”
She exposed a small smile. “So you haven’t forgotten after all,” she said, gently dabbing on his eyebrow, making him quirk it. “I thought all the punches to your head would mess with your memory.”
His husky chuckle had her hand shaking for a second. “The bastards at work can do anything to me, Mijeong, but they cannot take you from me. Not even the you in my head.”
“Oh?” she began, bringing her hands to her lap, scarf scattered. “And who am I really in your head?”
His growing smirk had her heartbeat slowing — one would think it would fasten, but it steadied, almost like it was being lulled to sleep. It was growing comfortable. Contented within his charm.
“That I will not tell you. Not until I’m drunk.”
She parted her mouth in mock anger, unable to hide her smile. He only cocked his head, waiting for her next move.
Filling the glass, she picked it up, holding it out again.
“Go on then.”
His smile brought her soul in a daze as he accepted her condition, taking the shot.
She brought out the second bottle, popping it open as the man examined his glass. Taking a small sip, she swirled the drink, not waiting for him to say anything before beginning herself.
“I saw Chanyeok again today.”
Gu stopped.
Taking another sip of her soju, she laughed a bit, though he could sense the complete bitterness resonating within. “He had his child with him this time. I don’t know where she was, but I saw him, and he saw me.”
The man before her clamped his lips, taking the first bottle and filling his glass. “He started apologising to me again. You know, the whole money situation,” she explained, but he already knew. “He said he would pay me back the remaining 3 million won.”
After drinking his shot, he clicked his tongue. “I have said it before and I’ll keep saying it.” He grabbed the first bottle. “One word from you, and I’ll set the bastard straight. I’ll get you your money back.”
“No,” she said, intently watching his drinking. “Call me crazy, Gu, but I don’t want him to pay me back. I think I’ve told you this before, but truly. I don’t want him to stop owing me.”
Another sip. “If he pays back his debt, I cannot curse him anymore. He’ll be at peace, Gu, while I’ll still be thinking about all he’s done to me.” She sighed. “He’ll forget all about it, Gu, but I won’t be able to. I don’t think I ever could.”
All he could do was listen — listen, while he seethed inside, the alcohol helping little to soothe his rage. This fucking Chanyeok guy has been a thorn in his side for so long, even though he was not aware of his presence. Gu knew better than to get involved in other people’s business, but every time she mentioned her ex in front of him, he felt a great urge to break every bone in his body.
But he will never do it — not when she has not asked him to.
So he only gestured to her bottle, urging her to drink. “Let your mind rest a little, Mijeong,” he said, offering a solemn, determined promise behind his heavy-lidded eyes. “I will remember for you. I’ll take your headaches for you, Mijeong, so don’t bother your pretty head over him.”
His solemnity softened. “I’d rather you worry over me and my misfortunes.”
She only drank some more. As if I do not already.
Halfway through the bottle, she spoke once more.
“You know what I was gonna do? If Chanyeok gave me the money?”
Gu raised his brow for a second, as if in question.
“I was gonna go on a trip.”
She smiled, looking at him. “And I would have asked you to come with me.”
He dared not avert his gaze.
She did not wait for him to ask any questions, wanting to have her mouth ramble on. Perhaps it was the soju going to her head, bringing a new level of confidence; that was the story she convinced herself with anyway.
“I don’t know where we would have gone, but I suppose anywhere that doesn’t look like Seoul.” She laughed, a little tired, remembering her siblings. “Chanhee and Gijeong would say I should go to New York, London, perhaps somewhere in Spain… anywhere that does not look like Korea.”
“But I know you, Gu,” she said, and she did not understand why her voice grew hoarse. “I know you, and you would not want to go to these places. There’s just so many people, you see.”
She shifted closer, unaware of him noticing every inch being lost between the two of them. “What I also know is that you love mountains. I saw you looking at them whenever we worked on the farm, remember? With that, I thought I would have taken you to the Alps, but that’s too popular. Perhaps the Scottish Highlands, Gu. I once saw it being advertised somewhere, in a travel agency…maybe I heard it from a friend, I don’t know. But there’s no one there, Gu. It’s just mountains, highland cows, pure greenery.”
Not quite believing what he was hearing, he huffed out a laugh. “You’ve thought about this, haven’t you?”
She did not hesitate. “Every single day.”
His smile faltered.
“Every single day I think about it,” She repeated, “Because I think of it like…like running away with you.”
She laughed, but did not know why it was so funny. “I want to run away with you, Gu. Somewhere no one will bother us, some place where it is just you and me. Even in this apartment we are alone, but I feel like a million people are watching us..”
Her gaze shattered his erratic heart. “I want the mountains to hide us. I want the soft winds of nature to catch our conversations, and not some stranger on the subway. I want to leave my job, you to be free from your awful club…”
A harsh sigh escaped her lips. “I want us to be free, Gu. I want us to be liberated together.”
Finally she let herself quiet, finishing the last of her soju. She set it down on the table, glancing down at her locked hands, so close to his figure. She heard him inhale sharply, perhaps cursing under his breath, but what she did not hear was his frantic heartbeat.
Gu Jagyeong thought he was dying with the way his heart hammered in his ears. He knew Mijeong liked to be honest — open, almost, with him, but this confession had his skin burning, his hands fidgeting.
It was worse because all he had ever wanted to do was run away with her too.
He knew exactly when he began to form the plan — the moment he realised his attachment, he had already decided he would take her away from here. It was almost eerie how he was planning somewhere quiet too, with hearing her musings, more so when she mentioned places which promised quiet — which promised peace.
What she did not realise, though, was that he was at peace right now.
This very moment — with the soju churning in his veins, with her eyes averting his heavy stare — at this particular moment, he was so unbelievably at peace he wondered if he was truly in a reality, rather than his dreams. Mijeong, with her ghost of a smile, taunting his already tormented heart; her hands, aching to be locked by his own, just there, caressing his clothed-skin.
Mijeong.
Mijeong brought him peace.
“I get such a thrill when you say such things to me.”
She glanced at him.
Gu exhaled too sharply, almost as if it hurt. “I told you once, that I get scared around you… it still stands true, Mijeong. My hands are shaking just hearing your voice.”
He held up his evidence, and sure enough, she could see them trembling slightly. “How do you do it?” He asked, and she could sense his desperation. “You say these things to me, Mijeong, and they’re all I can think about when you leave me. I sleep thinking of your stories, and I wake up reminiscing on your visions. How do you leave me so rattled?”
This has to be the drink. “I’ve…I’ve said it before, Gu,” she said, though he could sense the shake in her voice, from her own drinking. “This is me worshipping you.”
“Worship?” He whispered, and when he leaned in she was engulfed with his presence. Strange, how a man so cold with his words, his actions, radiated such warmth. “Ah, yes…you do that so well.”
She could hardly reply to him. He seemed ready to supply all the conversation, though, for he kept going, his hands now joining in his confessions. They ghosted along her arms, and she would not have even known they were on her until she felt his fingers, skirting along her cheeks.
“You were right, you know…about love,” he began, his words slow, lazy — like he was testing his speech, trialling before showing them to her. “It really isn’t enough for us both.”
When his thumb caressed her skin, she felt her blood cease to move around her. “But you…I could worship you for a lifetime.”
He sensed her face heating beneath his fingertips. “I don’t think I’ll live very long, Mijeong, but I want you to know that whatever time I have left, I want to spend every moment of it dedicated to you.” He laughed breathlessly, and its remnants fanned her lips, almost making her shiver. “Well, I doubt I’ve even done it properly, what with all my fuck ups with the club, the drinking…”
A heavy pause ensued, filled with so many unspoken words, so many hidden declarations Gu should have exposed the moment he felt any sort of emotion towards her. He was tired now — tired of concealing truths which were branded on his heart.
“Let me worship you properly, Mijeong.”
He said nothing more — did not let her ask of it either as he closed the distance, pressing his lips against hers.
She instantly closed her eyes.
It was like a blanket over her fatigued figure, a peaceful rest after a terrible day — that was what his lips were like to her, as they moved ever so slowly with hers. She could tell he was hesitant still, not knowing how she would react to such advances after using only his words for so long.
In her own truth, she was dying for him.
As she kissed him back, her hands sliding up his coat, she wondered if he could sense her relief in his decision. Grabbing onto the lapels, she felt her entire body almost shut down, each touch of his destroying her very livelihood.
Gu tilted his head, and she nearly died in his hands — a new wave of pleasure rode over her veins, and she could not welcome it fast enough, pulling onto his coat to bring him all the more close to her.
She was not letting him slip away this time.
The drunkard did not want to either, with the way she tasted beneath him; he thought he was addicted to alcohol, but her lips, glazed with soju… his hand slithered to her neck, craning her head back. She was going to kill him, he kept thinking, over and over. It was never the alcohol, or the danger of his job.
It was Mijeong, Mijeong, Mijeong.
Mijeong, a soft spring breeze; Mijeong, a raging earthquake, threatening to destroy him with the way she revelled in his kisses — never before had he kissed anyone with such fervour, had been then met with the same dizzying enthusiasm.
He was the first to pull away — oxygen abandoned, heaving like a man parched, holding her like water in his hands.
Her own breath was stolen, hands limp on his coat, engulfed in his arms. Her eyes threatened to close forever, dreaming of what could happen next, but she willed them be open, looking straight into his own.
As the two of them caught their breaths, stealing each other’s lifeline, the entire world stilled outside. Like she had wished, the people ceased to speak, the cars ceased to drive, the very nature ceased to move, lest they should disturb them both.
This was the peace they craved.
Gu swallowed a lump in his throat, eyes glistening. “I feel liberated, Mijeong.”
Her mouth curving had him wanting to kiss her all over again. “That’s the soju talking,” she murmured, but he could tell she did not think so.
“As if you are not drunk too,” he countered, his other hand rising to her jaw. “I don’t think you would have kissed me back if you were sober.”
He caught the truth in her heartbroken gaze.
She said it still. “I would have kissed you in any circumstance.”
His arms nearly went numb around her.
Suddenly, he found himself with another regret.
All the time he had wasted, wondering, thinking, making assumptions of what she was thinking — what she would say if he would kiss her one day. He should have done it the night he knew he felt something for her, but he was a coward. Even now, watching her fit so perfectly in his hold, he crossed the final distance while alcohol thrummed in his blood — a coward’s shield to fake bravado.
Looking into her eyes made it easier to handle the guilt.
She was still waiting for him.
So Gu Jagyeong let himself be selfish for another moment, swooping down to capture her lips.
She could taste the very worries of his soul, his lifetime’s worths of faults and flaws upon his mouth, slowly opening up to her and she wanted it all; she nearly cried at the silent revelations as she wrapped her arms around his neck, tugging him as close to her as physically possible.
When had he become so brave? she thought, but her rationality had faded with the soju she had downed, her brain lost in the sea of her heart.
She did not know why that scared her.
No logic, no thinking — just his tongue, sliding ever so slowly against the seam of her lips. She opened up to him, and strange sensations curled up her body as he delved deeper, grip on her tightening.
The sea of her heart was rising to the lungs. He gently laid her down on his sheets, and the water was dizzying, steaming from his touches which lowered to her waist, and she was going to drown. His tongue found hers, and she whimpered at his work, twirling along with hers, sparking her to life.
The water would not stop.
It was definitely the alcohol — or perhaps it was his magic, but her head was spinning, arms locked upon him, tumbling down to his chest. She was going to forget this fantasy, and it was all because she drank too much, all because her heart could not handle the ocean of worship Gu offered.
She could not forget.
With great effort she broke the kiss, breathing back as if she had truly survived a flood. The man himself could not bear to open his eyes, his forehead pressed against hers as he parted his mouth, engulfing the city’s oxygen in his lungs.
She was the first to break the heaving silence.
“I can’t…I can’t forget you.”
He slowed his heavy breathing.
His lack of question had her rasping further. “I want you, Gu, but I’m already forgetting…this stupid drink…it’s making me forget and I can’t have that.” she groaned, holding onto his coated arms as if he would slip away. “You can do it just fine, but I can’t…”
Her gaze was rooted to his closed eyes. “I can’t forget you at this moment. Not when I have waited so long for it.”
His eyes fluttered open.
So much swelled beneath those dark irises, but he could not say what they meant.
God, he wanted her. She was there, just beneath him, whispering nonchalantly in his arms moments before.
Did she even know how long he had waited too?
“No…you’re right.”
Forehead leaving hers, he settled beside her, raking back his raven hair. “We can’t have that.”
No, he could not have this memory be lost to her drunken senses — not when he was giving away his very soul for her to keep forever.
She turned her head sideways, looking at him. “I’m sorry.”
He copied her action. The incredulous look he offered her made her face burn. “Don’t ever say sorry to me. Especially for things like this.”
Inhaling sharply, he tossed and turned the words in his head before focusing upon her. “You’re right…truly. If I had slept with you now, and you had forgotten in the morning, I would never recover.”
He paused. “You would wake up with a headache, tired, but unaware of what would have happened and leave for work…and I…” he hesitated, pursing his lips before continuing. “And I would lie right here, looking at the place you fill right now, and wonder how I will live my life as if nothing had happened.”
The stare he pinned on her made her heart drown all over again. “You would forget, Mijeong. And I will remember for the rest of my life.” He shook his head against his pillows. “No, you are never really wrong, Mijeong. I cannot fuck you tonight.”
His answer shocked her to silence. He knew too, for he did not say anything more on the matter, hand reaching out to tug on his dark-coloured blankets, underneath his shins.
A layer of warmth enveloped the girl as he brought the blanket upon her frame, engulfing her entire figure into its hold. His eyes held a request as he retracted his hand from her.
“Will you stay beside me instead?”
The question, soft and demure, so unlike the entire situation mere minutes ago, had her smiling, if only a little.
This time, her hand reached out, covering the minute distance between the two. Her fingers caressed his roughened cheek, lips curling further.
“Always.”
And that was all it ever took for him to sag in relief.
Her hand stayed upon his cheek, caresses slowing the stronger sleep took hold of her. Gazing into Gu’s eyes forever was enough for her soul, but the two of them knew better than to give into their fantasies.
So when she did eventually sleep, finding peace in oblivion beside him, the drunkard could only watch, sleep trying to take him too but he remaining stubborn. Perhaps he thought she would slip from his fingers if he rested for the night.
Always.
One word — one simple word, and that alone brought him peace.
Liberation. That was what Mijeong would call it.
But she was right. Once again, she proved him wrong, because he did feel liberated , as if his heart was a caged bird that had finally been set free.
He had problems still — he was well aware, but she, right next to him, made him powerful; as if he could overcome the mountain of troubles he had garnered in his lifetime.
And even if he could not battle all his enemies, it was okay. He would be okay, if Mijeong would stay with him.
He would be okay.
He would be alright.
A tired chuckle somehow left his mouth.
So this is the liberation she spoke so fervently of.
He kept watching her, mind calm, heart still.
Perhaps I would not mind having a little every now and then.
And he would gain such a hopeful feeling — as long as he stayed with her forever.