Chapter Text
Gyeong-seok spent his Sunday in the hospital with Na-yeon. Technically the nurses hadn’t lifted his weekend ban, but when the head nurse spotted him walking in she didn’t scold him, simply raised a warning eyebrow.
“Looking better, Mr. Park. Let’s try and keep it that way, yes?”
He tried to keep the blush out of his smile. The truth of it was, Hyun-ju wasn’t the only cause of the lightness in his step. Well, she was responsible for most of it, but not just because of them dating. Or the things they sometimes got up to during the dating. He’d been single parenting for so long, he’d almost forgotten how heavy the bucket was until she had reached out a hand to help carry it for a few days. And he’d legitimately had fun at the party, even without the pleasant side distraction of his girlfriend.
His cheeks heated. Girlfriend. Him, at forty-three. Landing an amazing woman who was clearly into him. Maybe he wasn’t such a failure after all.
“Appa!”
“Hey sweetheart.” Gyeong-seok smiled at his daughter, scanning her for changes. Was she looking less pale than usual? Less lethargic? Was there a sparkle in her eyes because she was happy to see him, or because her body was running slightly too warm? He gave her a careful kiss on her forehead, stealthily checking her temperature. She felt normal. She looked happy. Still, he took careful hold of his hopes before they could soar too high. It was a constant battle on its own, to keep expectations low so he wouldn’t plummet into despair whenever it all got yanked back down. He held up the basket. “I thought we could do a picnic today.”
Her eyes lit up. “I can go outside?”
“Ah, not today,” he said apologetically, hurrying to spread the blanket over her bed at the sight of her sullen pout. “But we can have it right here?” By the time he’d put all the food out, her mood had already shifted right back. To supplement the leftovers, he’d spent yesterday evening making some of Na-yeon’s favorite desserts. He might have gotten a bit carried away. The basket had been completely full again.
Na-yeon instantly reached for the bukkumi, and he pretended not to notice until she had one of the sweet rice dumplings halfway stuffed into her mouth.
“Real food first, Na-yeona.” But behind his stern façade, hope dared to tentatively rear up again. Ever since her fainting episode, food had been an absolute struggle. If it wasn’t for the fact that she would definitely throw up if he allowed her to stuff her face with sweets, he’d gladly let her finish them all. “Do you want some chicken, or some mandoo?” He somehow managed to get her to eat three whole bites of chicken, and two dumplings.
Chewing on a well-deserved rice cake, Na-yeon looked at the rest of the food with a little frown. “Appa, you made too much. We should have invited more people.”
“Like who?”
She gave it some serious thought. “Hyun-jugonju.”
He chuckled. “Do you like Hyun-jugonju?” Na-yeon nodded decisively. “Yeah,” he smiled, feeling that fickle thing called hope flicker in his chest. “I like her too.”
***
Hyun-ju was spending her Sunday working.
Technically, her list was down to only a very few. Min-su kept striking out at job interviews, and Gi-hun was still refusing to go to therapy, and there were a couple of open-ended bills, one of which being Na-yeon’s medical. All of those were things she couldn’t really do anything about, aside from awaiting further development. But the party had left her feeling… nostalgic wasn’t the right word for it. Pensive, perhaps.
She had taken out a binder. There had been only one binder at first, labeled Squid Game 2024, in the box Jun-ho had given them. On her very first day at the pink hotel, Hyun-ju had sorted out the survivors by number, looking at the rest of them as little as possible. She’d stuffed them back in the box, and neither her or Gi-hun had taken it out since then. But she knew walking away without looking back wasn’t healthy. That it would catch up with you eventually, one way or the other. That they owed it to the dead at least, to not bury them twice.
Still, it was far from easy, to go through them now. Even with those faces she hadn’t known personally, it still twinged unpleasantly, to remember flashes of them in the games. To remember that maybe, just possibly, if things had gone only slightly different, they too could have walked away, if she’d only… She quickly chased the thought out of her head. Leafed on. Face after face after face. Until she encountered hers.
Kim Young-mi. Her heart clenched at the sight of her game picture, already looking scared. At the sterility of her file, reducing her down to numbers. One number. 95. Hyun-ju had looked into her, after, to find out if there was a family that needed money. But the girl had been alone. Even at the end, she’d died alone.
She carefully wiped the drops off the page. Wiped her own face. Took the page out of the binder. Leafed on.
It took a while to find Se-mi. She was all the way at the back. Hyun-ju stared at the girl, trying to remember if she ever noticed her before. There had been so many of them at first, until there suddenly weren’t. She looked vaguely familiar, but nothing more.
Jun-bae was only a few pages further on.
Once she had stuffed the binder back into its box, she had the sudden need to scream. Possibly break something. Of course, it would be heaps healthier to just go to therapy already, but how did one even begin to talk about this? ‘Yes, hi, thank you for seeing me, the problem that I am currently struggling with is that I suffer from immense survivors guilt, on account of having been locked into death games with 455 other people.’ Who could possibly understand that, outside of their own?
She called Gi-hun. “Hey, I have an idea that I’d like to get your opinion on. Could you come over today? Seeing as you technically live here now.”
If she couldn’t bring certain people to therapy, up to and including herself, then perhaps they could all benefit from a sort of group therapy instead.
***
Dae-ho has added Gi-hun to the group chat.
Dae-ho: Are we seriously holding a reunion with all the survivors?
Gi-hun: If you don’t want to go, nobody is making you go.
Gi-hun has left the group chat.
Dae-ho: I didn’t say that.
Dae-ho: And he left again. Typical.
Geum-ja: Is anybody else going? I sort of feel like we owe it to each other, no? But I would also feel better if I knew who else was going to be there.
Gyeong-seok: I’ll go.
Gyeong-seok stared down at his own message. No backing out now. Even though he could absolutely understand everyone’s hesitation. Gyeong-seok hadn’t made any enemies in the games, not personally. But there had been a hard line between X’s and O’s, up at the end. And not every survivor had been from their camp. Definitely not all of them had parted on good terms. Then again, those that hadn’t, probably wouldn’t feel the need to come back.
And Hyun-ju would be going. Seeing as she and Gi-hun were the ones who had set it all up. Maybe after, he could entice her to go back to his place. Entice her to have a little reunion of their own.
Because Gyeong-seok was on a mission. It was a mission that regrettably involved the internet, but he’d work with what he had.
Twice now, Hyun-ju had managed to wring him out entirely, leaving him boneless and fuzzy and wondering where the world had gone. And then she'd refused to let him return the favor. Gyeong-seok might not have bedded anyone in over five years, but he had always prided himself in at least a certain level of skill. In giving, and not just taking. He was going to have to step it up.
He’d always known Hyun-ju was a natural leader. It was a quality of hers that made him more than a little breathless. Even back when she’d first taken command of their rebellion, stern authority followed by that bashful little smile. The added realization that she could make him go wherever she wanted with nothing but a firm hand in his hair… well. Surprising as it was to learn these things about himself, he wasn’t going to complain. Far from it. She obviously enjoyed pinning him down as much as he liked… anyway. He needed to focus.
Gyeong-seok knew there were areas of Hyun-ju’s body that were different to what he was used to in a partner. And alright, yes, he’d always assumed himself straight. But that didn’t mean he would mind trying out new things. Not if it involved her. Not if it would mean making her feel good. But Hyun-ju had been straightforward about that part of herself from the start. She’d drawn a hard line, and that was fair, more than fair. Her body, her limits. But he was frustrated, and feeling more than a little guilty, that both times they’d had sex had ended with him sticky and sated, and her just smiling that cocky smile, assuring him she didn’t need anything in return. For one, he wasn’t stupid. He knew she was lying. Second, he had a deep desire to wipe that grin off her face. But most of all, he wanted, no, he needed to make her feel good too. Prove that he could, even without touching anything she didn’t want touched. He wasn’t going to back down from a challenge.
Gyeong-seok: If you need any help concerning this reunion on Saturday, you’ll let me now?
Hyun-ju: Actually, yes. I’m going to need you to wear something without buttons. Preferably something baggy.
Gyeong-seok: No promises.
It was a strange week, devoid as it was of Hyun-ju, after spending almost an entire week seeing her every day. On Monday, he went out for late drinks with Yon-sik, after Na-yeon’s bedtime. On Tuesday, on Yon-sik’s encouragement, he made an appointment with a therapist. On the intake file he ticked off survivors guilt, illness in the family, and after some serious hesitation, abandonment issues.
On Wednesday, he got called into Na-yeon’s doctors office.
“It’s good news,” the doctor smiled, before Gyeong-seok could even sit down. “Her cell count is looking very promising. She’s not out of the woods yet, but if her cancer continues to devolve, we can switch her chemo treatment over to pills.”
Gyeong-seok gaped at the results, at the doctor, and tried desperately not to hope. He failed. “I could take her home?”
“That doesn’t mean her treatment is over,” the doctor warned. “It could be months before the cancer fully leaves her body. But yes. If, at retesting next Wednesday, her numbers continue as they are, she can go home.”
He didn’t tell Na-yeon. Not yet. Not while it could all still come crashing down next week. He knew he wouldn’t be able to take it, to crush her hopes along with his.
He tried to tell Hyun-ju. Typed and untyped it a dozen times. But it felt like he was jinxing it, every time he put it into words. In the end, he kept it to himself.
***
Hyun-ju walked around the rented hall where they were holding the reunion, and tried to keep her nerves in check.
There was no current cause for her to be nervous. To keep circling the room as if she was on patrol. Everything was going well. Out of 68 people, less than half so far had shown up. Absolutely none of them were picking a fight. And yet, and yet… there was a tension in the room, a thrumming low in her bones that she was certain others were feeling too. She found herself whirling to the entrance every time another person showed up. As if, against all reason, they would be dressed in pinks and blacks. As if, at any moment, a speaker would crackle to life.
She took a steadying breath as the newcomer turned out to be just another ex-player. Found herself scanning the room anyways, making the tally. Gi-hun, sitting to the side, alone. Dae-ho, hovering at his side, looking slightly nervous. Jun-hee not too far from them, talking to Geum-ja and Yon-sik. Min-su hadn’t wanted to come. Gyeong-seok… she turned her head. Gyeong-seok was… her pulse started racing when she couldn’t find him right away. The sudden spike of panic petered out as soon as she spotted him. He was holding Jun-hee’s baby, talking to some people she didn’t know by name. As if he could feel her eyes on him he looked up, and shot her a bright smile. Her heart both warmed and clenched at the same time. He’d worn something with damn buttons.
“He’d make a great dad.”
She jumped a little. Jun-hee had walked over to her. “What?”
“Gyeong-seok,” Jun-hee smiled. “He’s such a natural with her.”
Well yes, Hyun-ju wanted to say. He’s a parent. Only if Jun-hee didn’t know that, then Gyeong-seok obviously never told her. And since he hadn’t, it wasn’t up to her to say anything. She looked back over to Gyeong-seok. He was still making pleasant conversation, looking a lot more relaxed than she felt. What did he even talk about to people, if it wasn’t about Na-yeon? Was she the only one who knew? A different sort of unpleasantness settled over her. She couldn’t be all he had, surely.
She suddenly realized she’d been ignoring Jun-hee for quite some time now. “Ah, sorry, I’m a bit distracted today…” but when she turned, she found Jun-hee wide eyed and frozen, staring at the entrance.
Hyun-ju followed her gaze and froze right alongside. 333. He was standing at the entrance, looking around the room. She should know his name, she’d seen it plenty on her list, but it kept slipping out of her mind, refused to stick. When the time had come to check in on him, she’d asked Gi-hun to do it for her. It’s not his fault, she told herself, even as her hands balled into fists at her side. There wasn’t enough time. She never would have made it. It’s not his fault. Breathe.
333’s eyes landed on Jun-hee. His face lit up with clear recognition, and a… tentative smile? As Hyun-ju was trying to process this new information with a mind that very definitely wanted to run the other way, the smile slipped. 333 stared, then frantically started scanning the room.
Jun-hee jolted back to life. “I need to go. I need to go now. Where’s the baby?”
“Gyeong-seok still has her. What’s going on?”
But Jun-hee was already moving, bolting towards Gyeong-seok as if she was racing a timer and he was a door. She planted herself in front of the baby, pointing one threatening finger towards 333. “You stay away.”
“Jun-heeya,” 333 said, shocked. He’d started walking towards her, but he slowed down, hesitating.
“I said stay away!”
Behind her, Gyeong-seok was slowly backing away with the baby. He glanced over at Hyun-ju in clear confusion, but she was as lost as he was. Dae-ho rushed to stand protectively next to Jun-hee, Geum-ja and Yong-sik swiftly following suit. Less obvious, but vastly more threatening, Gi-hun had risen from his seat.
Anger flickered over 333 then, and he started forward. “You gave birth and you didn’t even tell me?”
“She’s not yours!” Jun-hee screamed. “You didn’t want me to keep her, so you can’t have her now!”
Oh. Oh. That explained… too much. Hyun-ju’s head was spinning. Things were escalating. Someone really ought to do something. Only, only, if she walked over there now, if she came within swinging distance… The room started to spin. Young-mi’s voice was ringing in her ears. It was becoming hard to breathe.
“Hyun-juna.” Gyeong-seok appeared before her with the baby. “Hold her.” She hesitated. “Now.” She took her. The weight of her in her arms snapped her back to the here, the now. The room stopped spinning. The voices went quiet.
Gyeong-seok strode over to 333 and clasped him on the shoulder, turning him right around. “We’re leaving.”
333 tried to fight him off. “I’m not—”
Gyeong-seok all but hauled him to the exit. “Yes you are. Right now.”
Once they were out of sight, Jun-hee’s tension drained. She collapsed in on herself, Dae-ho hastily grabbing her to safely lower her down to the floor. When Hyun-ju approached, Jun-hee desperately grabbed for her daughter, cradling her close, rocking herself and baby both. The players had all gravitated around her like a protective cocoon.
“Did you know this?” Gi-hun mouthed at Hyun-ju. She mutely shook her head.
She left Jun-hee in the more capable hands of Geum-ja and Dae-ho and walked towards the exit. She felt shamefully relieved to find only Gyeong-seok outside, standing on the sidewalk.
He smiled at her ruefully. “We had a little talk about parenting. I told him to walk it off and ponder his choices.” He pulled a hand through his hair. “I may have been… quite strict.”
Not as strict as I would have been,” she muttered darkly. When he looked at her in surprise, she sighed. “He… during mingle…” she took a shuddering breath. Flinched away as he reached for her. They were out in public. “When they called out six, we made a mistake. Picked a room that was already full. I found us an empty one as quick as I could, but…” Gyeong-seok looked so deeply concerned, she had to look away. He already knew who they’d lost that round, but he'd never pried about the details. “Young-mi fell. I wanted to go get her, but 333 pushed me into the room. Locked the door.”
Gyeong-seok hissed softly. “That bastard.”
She had to be honest. “He was right,” she forced out, still looking away. “She never would have made it. There wasn’t enough time. I would have stepped out, and all six of us would have been dead.”
She could see his hands twitch at his side, stopping himself from reaching for her again. “You did what you could, Hyun-juna. You’re always taking care of us. You are still taking care of us.”
She looked up to meet his eyes, so open, so grateful, and something just… snapped.
Her vision blurred. “I voted O.”
He shouldn’t be looking at her like this. Not this understanding. This soft. “Hyun-juna… one vote wouldn’t have mattered—”
“It would.” Tears were streaming down her face. “I voted O twice. And if I hadn’t… none of it would have… we could have all…” she was choking on the words, choking on the guilt. “So many people—"
She flinched away again as he reached for her, but he wasn’t having it. Pulled her into his arms, tucked her face into his chest, and she shouldn’t, she really shouldn’t, they were out in public. But she couldn’t get herself to pull away. For the first time since the games, she cried openly, without restraint, fully sobbed into his chest. She cried until she was all dried up, until her sobs turned into painful dry heaving. Until they left her a trembling mess in his arms.
“Not that I want to ruin the moment,” he whispered, rubbing soothing circles on her back. “But you should really go to therapy.”
“I’ll go if you go,” she croaked out. “Remember?”
“My first appointment is on Tuesday.”
She huffed into his chest. “Well… fuck.” For a while she simply stood there. Unwilling to leave his arms just yet. “I ruined your shirt.”
She could feel him smile into her hair. “I’m a parent to a five-year-old. I’ve had worse.”
She sniffled, and pulled back. They were almost of a height, he barely had two centimeters on her. But she suddenly felt so small.
He looked her over critically. “I think I better take you home. Did you drive here?”
She nodded, wiping ineffectively at her cheeks. “Gi-hun can drive as well. But I can’t ask them all to leave just for me.”
“If you want to go home, I’m taking you home.”
“You don’t have to…”
“Hyun-juna,” he said sternly, slipping into that voice he used with Na-yeon. “I am taking you home. Now, I’ll go get the car keys. Did you bring anything?”
“My purse,” she mumbled.
“I’ll get it. Be back soon. Don’t move.”
She waited for him in the warm evening air. Found she couldn’t stop shivering.
When he came back, he was carrying her purse, as well as the baby carrier. Jun-hee was walking next to him, looking about as bad as Hyun-ju was feeling. Dae-ho was along as well, hovering at her side protectively.
Gyeong-seok held up the car keys. “I’ll drop you all off and get the car back to Gi-hun. He’s staying to keep an eye on things.”
That should be her job. She miserably dropped herself into the passenger seat.
The car ride was utterly silent. Gyeong-seok drove a full 5 kilometers under the speed limit. Every time his hand came down to shift gears, she had to fight the urge to rest her hand on top of his.
Back home, Gyeong-seok insisted on walking them all upstairs. Once Jun-hee slipped inside with the baby, managing a quiet thank you, he stopped Dae-ho at the door. “Tell Jun-hee… not tomorrow, give her a couple of days… Myung-gi wants to meet up and talk. Should she want to accept, I can act as an intermediate. I’m not saying Jun-hee has to meet him,” he said, stone-faced. “He’s the one that walked away. It’s fully up to her.”
When the apartment door closed behind Dae-ho, Gyeong-seok turned to Hyun-ju. “How are you feeling?”
She shrugged. She wanted to ask him inside, burrow in his arms and sleep for three days. But she couldn’t. Shouldn’t. “Thanks for dropping us off.”
“Anytime. And I mean that, alright?” He locked eyes with her. “Any time. You have my number.”
“Alright,” she whispered hoarsely.
He leaned in. Caught himself. Furtively checked the hallway. Gently kissed her on the forehead. “Bed, gonjunim. Some water first.” He sternly held her gaze. “No alcohol.”
She chuckled wetly. “You’re such a dad.”
But she followed his advice. She slept fitfully, in a way that had her waking in a cold sweat, dreams evaporating before they could stick.
She forced herself through the motions of her morning. Shower. Coffee. Breakfast. Sat down at her computer and registered for the damn therapy. She took a screenshot of the confirmation mail and sent it to Gyeong-seok.
Gyeong-seok: Well done. Proud of you.
Found, stupidly, that she could smile again.
She really loved that man.