āso instead of asking you what you want me to do, iāll just ask you to do whatever it is you want to do, without thinking of how anything you do might affect me. i think thatās more like how itās supposed to be.ā he gives a small nod of his head then, like indicating that his decision has been made and that heās done thinking, then just looks at yongguk with trusting eyes and that same, little smile.
the worst part is how yongguk can slowly see the fight leaving jun, like the elder is getting more and more tired and he canāt keep on telling yongguk he matters anymore, not when his fears and anxiety of everything is the one thing that keeps him hideously bound to the past, present and unable to look into the future. keeping him trapped, even when both of their cards have been laid down on the table and all he has to do is succumb.
it would be so easy, to apologise and stand on the tips of his toes (because jun is still irritatingly taller than him, even if by a mere inch or two) to dip forward until mouth meets mouth and they fit together like a puzzle. itās so easy, itās a small action compared to what they could do, but the shame still forces yonggukās feet to stick flat on the ground and for his eyes to be downcasted like he knows heās in the wrong.Ā
but itās true. everything jun says is true and thatās awful. yongguk runs, thatās all heās ever learned how to do. he ran when he got into trouble as a kid, when he injured someone, when he killed a man for the first time, itās been the easiest to just run and never look back. whereas he had seen it as a strengthć ” the power to banish anything from memory, to become emotionally detachedć ” now he sees why itās a disadvantageć ” because all he sees is how much of a hollow shell heās become, not a person at all.
āiām sorry hyung,ā he says, voice choked up and his stare at the ground hardens because his words are shaking and he doesnāt, canāt, wonāt cry in front of the knight like the weak little boy he appears to be. not when thereās a fresh wave of tears that threaten to fall from his eyes, he doesnāt deserve to cry, not when itās his fault.Ā āyouć ” iām so sorry. youāre always going to be waiting, and waiting, and waiting for me and itās not fair because thereās people who can treat you better. jitae, junho, everyone else except me. but itās still me youāre looking for.ā
āi donāt think iāve done anything for you to love meć ” iĀ ć ” i kill. i killed people, and i wouldnāt mind doing it again.ā he rambles, like heās trying to think of every bad thing about himself to hurl onto jun so he can show heās not someone to be loved.Ā āi abandon people, people abandon me, andć ” and iām too reckless. look at my hands.ā he shows them, the bruises on his knuckles, the open wounds and cuts from a fight gone astray, the way that they shake even now.Ā āiām a fool, hyung, if i think i deserve you.ā
he inhales, breathes for the first time in a while.Ā āyetć ” when i look at you. my chest hurts, and i hate the idea of you leaving me. i donāt know what it is, i donāt know what to call it.ā he says in a quieter voice.Ā āi donāt want you to leave.ā
yongguk comes back to seoul because he has to, not because he wants to.
when he says it like that, he sounds like an awful person who hasnāt treasured the relationships heād somehow managed to make upon joining kingsman but sometimes he wonders whether the burden that forms itself like a boulder weighing on his shoulders until they feel numb and his head feels dizzy are worth it for the few people he knows he treasures ā and he knows they treasure him, too.
it always brings him to the inevitable realization that theyāre going to leave one day because they have to, need to, because theyāll wake up and realise kingsman isnāt shit, or theyāll realise that they donāt enjoy the way they live. and heāll be caught in the backwash of it, wondering whether any of them were planning to tell him in the first place or whether they wanted him to figure out he wasnāt vital in the first place.
at that thought, his hand thatās shoved deep inside his pocket curls into a fist, fingernails are cutting into the palm of his hand and itās only when he can feel the telltale droplets of blood that he stops for the sake of stopping. yonggukās exhausted, having come back from what was supposed to be relaxing looking even more shit than he should have and wandering around the same streets that heās been walking around for the past ten minutes, at some obscure hour of the night like he shouldnāt inform kingsman heās not deadĀ at least.
he exhales, jerking out of a stupor when his shoulder collides with someone and heās fragile enough that the impact leaves him stumbling for a second.
even he canāt justify that. heās tempted, though. āhere, one of your favāā¦usuals.ā
maybe heās dramatic, maybe he actually has a fucking brain as opposed to people who enjoy working at kingsman (āholy shit,ā a handler had said to him once,Ā āthe newbies and interns keep asking me when thereās a new mission. should i just give them a fake one and see what type of story line they cook up?ā yongguk said yes.) but the moment he steps back into the unnaturally large building, he can feel his last two remaining brain cells wilting out.
the weeks of being able to breathe without feeling like somebody had poisoned the mere air around you were admittedly and understandably, better to him and his health than he had wanted to think they would be in the first place. most of all though, he canāt help and miss the comfort of having family close to him ā warm hands ruffling through his hair, someone calling him their son, telling him to come visit again ā and maybe blood isnāt always thicker than water but he might as well have damn believed it was.
his eyes flicker over to the coffee shop and heād be lying if he said it didnāt twist something ugly in his chest because all he does is think of jitae and all the mistakes yongguk had made like a fool, tripping over his own feet because heās too stupid to do anything else.Ā
but he doesnāt catch sight of a particular kang jitae, so he thinks that heās managed to cross one most likely uncomfortable conversation off the list as opposed to his planned seven for today. little steps bang yongguk, he tells himself, little steps.
and then heās rightfully mistaken when he steps to the counter, order on the tip of his tongue when his drink is in front of him already. he throws a surprised look at the barista before his heart sinks to the bottom of his stomach and he thinks, shit, guess that makes eight awkward conversations today.
jitaeās there, and jitae remembers his favourite drink. itās stupid, but it moves him more than it should.
āoh, jitae hyung.ā he says a little dumbly.Ā āthatās a good memory you have there.ā
āi can do anything, as long as itāll make you happy, so tell me.ā
itās soon after he spits out those angry words, cold and harsh and intending to cut out at people with the lashing of his tongue like itās nothing abnormal that he regrets it immediately, dread washing over him. itās rare for yongguk to lose his temper like this, or lose sense of what heās saying at all, but around jun nowadaysć ”or has it always been there ever since the beginning? how long has he kept this under wrap for?ć ” he finds himself slipping like heās trying to grasp water between fingers.
this is the exact moment where he needs to apologise once more, to say heās sorry for trying to inflict pain on him just because yonggukās the one thatās hurting but he never takes into account how jun gets hurts too. heās a foolish person, all numb tongued when he needs to speak and all sharp when he needs to shut up. thereās no self control, no switch that keeps him from falling apart at the seams and having nobody stitching back together because theyāve all left.
( because you donāt like saying sorry, do you?
you donāt like apologizing to anybody, even if they own a part of your heart. you donāt like holding your heart out onto your sleeve and admitting that youāre wrong, that youāre flawed, that thereās cracks within you that people canāt fix with just tape and determination.
itās a habit you should learn how to break. )
he sees how absolutely frustrated jun looks, like itās straining him just to have this conversation and itās a switch that yongguk isnāt sure he can handle. from gawain, to knight, to jun, to hyung, back to gawain againć ” he knows jun has to switch between them, itās practically his job to but that still doesnāt leave a good feeling at the pit of his stomach. it makes him feel sick, that heāll never really know who jun is.
thereās too many truths being said.
heās always scared when someone admits to things that shouldnāt be admittedć ” that maybe thereās something in him thatās worth looking into more than just the outward appearance of bang yongguk, something more than the bruises that litter his knuckles and the cuts that are scattered across his body like theyāre masterpieces or works of art as opposed to stupid mistakes that heād made as a kid far too young and stubborn to be contained within the walls of what society had set: street rat, poor kid, good for nothing.
āyou always say that hyung,ā he says at last, exasperation bleeding into his voice and he canāt help how exhausted he looks either with messy hair and pink lips, fingers shaking as he pulls down his jumper.Ā āyouć ” you always say you love me like itās the easier thing in the world, but i donāt think you do. iām scareć ” ā
(he pauses, because he wonāt, wonāt, wonāt say that word in front of jun.)
āi think you love the idea of being in love with me.ā he shakes his head.Ā āor the idea of loving someone like me, of fixing me.ā
he steps away slowly, knows that heās already made eye contact. yongguk has found him, has found his place of work, god knows heās probably found his home address too. jisooās heart races and he struggles to breath. his hands are shaking but he tries to seem normal, walking out of the reception area and heading to a back part of the library, trying to seem as casual as possible as he puts distance between himself and yongguk.Ā
heās not surprised to see jisoo standing there. yongguk supposes, the entire reason heās there is because he knows jisoo works there so itād defeat the purpose itself ć ” purpose being to beat the shit out of him and then find out what his affiliation is, preferably in that same order. which is why when he sees jisooās gaze drop to him, the unmistakable surprise that flashes across his face and yongguk thinks heād be deemed an asshole if he says thatās his favourite look on the other so far.
a beat passes, with sudden eye contact itās almost comedic how unaware everyone is of the horrible tension that arises just from a small action.Ā
another passes, before jisoo walks out to the back like nothing ever happened and yongguk feels his irritation flare up at how heās always running away (and stabbing, and shooting, admittedly) after being caught.
not this time though.
at least, not if yongguk can help it.
protocol be damned because he even though itās certain someone who dresses as sugar candy to hang off an old manās arm and ransacks a house for information is as dangerous as anyone else heās caught, thereās just something about hong jisoo that wonāt let him at rest.Ā
he crosses the room, fiddling with the card as casually as he can and trying his hardest not to limp in case the old lady sitting a table away from him thatās been giving him an odd look starts asking questions. heās not really in the mood for a whole game of hide and seek in the library (what are they? eight year olds?) but he thinks it might have to come to that.
though, he walks quickly enough that he catches sight of the otherās back soon thereafter, rushing almost and his mouth canāt help but curve down.
whereas it might not look it at that moment, yongguk isnāt a stalker.
or he could be judging by how he isnāt even on any certain mission at that moment ć ” isnāt supposed to be, at least ć ” but he still finds himself with an id that doesnāt belong to himĀ between his index and middle finger like itās the most natural thing in the world, steps away from the library that has its name printed across the top of the offending item. maybe now would be a good time to stop, to just head over to kingsman and hand the identification in but thereās something about finding out himself thatās so appealing.
that, and the fact that his leg still aches like a bitch and it didnāt help that he had yoongi over the other night who wonāt stop commenting on his significantly evident limping as though itās the only source of entertainment. his injury has, upsettingly, decreased his efficiency in the field by at least twenty seven percent and yongguk canāt help the fact that he wants to ask one (1) hong jisoo exactly who they are.
the thought of that drives him inside the library, one hand in pocket, the other playing with the card as he sweeps a glance over the room.Ā
he nudges the shirt up far enough so it stays up on its own, then uses both hands to be able to warm up the cream. āthis might hurt a little, so how about you tell me your name?ā this time the smile he shows is both reassuring and amused, before he puts his hands on the younger maleās ribs, gently rubbing the cream into the bruised area. āand how long have you been doing this?ā that part, he admits, is simply utter curiosity.
contrary to popular belief (popular belief being that yongguk is fucking stupid with fish for brain cells and doesnāt know jack shit about countries outside of korea according to his best friend) yonggukās actually always liked the idea of going to china and makes a somewhat approving hum under his breath when the other nods at the fact that he had gotten it right. he thinks now should be that time where he tries, horribly but nonetheless tries, to speak that one line of mandarin he knows but itās too friendly a thing to do with someone whoās most likely judging your mistakes.
he scowls a little at the cold air that suddenly rushes from the room straight onto his bare skin and oh, just air shouldnātĀ hurt his bruises as much as it does, but he supposes thatās what he gets for overworking himself to the brim between fighting and work. theyāre littered all over his body, too many in certain areas and he knows too much strain on even a healthy body has never been good.
( ābang yongguk,ā he friend once told him.
āyouāre going to die before you reach forty.ā
he remembers thanking them. )
āwei,ā he says the name like heās testing it on his tongue, a curiously different name for a curiously different stranger. he glances up, index finger already reaching up to press into the caved in space between cheek and mouth, the dimple,Ā before he drops his hand and makes a sound suspiciously like hm.Ā āitās fine, just do what you need to do.ā
and he had said he wouldnāt show too much of a reaction but he still canāt help but hiss at the pressure on his ribs, even if itās tiny, even if itās warm hands applying them.Ā āmy nameās yongguk.ā he answers, hesitant.Ā āiāve been doing this for... four years now? five years? since i was fifteen.ā
itās never occurred to him how quickly time flies when you're knocked out cold half of it.Ā
his expression folds, softens ever so slightly as he allows himself a smile, but it is nothing like the one heād worn before, and it doesnāt even reach his eyes, not fully.
yongguk eventually realises that the two of them are their own enemies.
thereās a certainty in the fact that, indeed someone walking in on them at that exact moment, jun pressed against him, mouthing at his neck whilst yonggukās shirt finds itself riding up again, would be more scandalous than not because itās yongguk with junĀ but he finds himself not caring the moment he hears a laugh, all bell like and sweet to his ears.
and then it stopsć ” freezes, even, when he suddenly feels colder than he wanted to and the body heat of another is gone. he barely has time to say anything, mouth parted in protest before he looks at the other and heās not even sure itās jun anymore, looking at him with such disassociation that itās even worse than the first time they had met.
in kingsman, people would talk about them, find it hilarious really that the two most unlikely people had each other wrapped around their fingers. but there wouldnāt really be anyone that wanted to get in the middle of them, except other infiltrating enemies of them bothć ” and those came with the job, a dime a dozenć ” or people who were far too nosy. the people, he realises a little belatedly, who always mess it up for the two of them are themselves.
it leaves him feeling sick, regretful to the core when he notices how jun isnāt smiling at him properly like he means itć ” itās like he has to smile and yonggukās never wanted to bury himself six feet deep in guilt, not like this. he messed it up himself, of course he did. he pulls his shirt down and shuffles away from the door, the stupid door, mouth dry.
this should be when he apologies for leaving that night, for leaving yet again after running away for more than two weeks, for coming back out of nowhere after over a month. but he canāt bring himself to, not when he feels something ugly inside of him grow.
ānothing.ā he spits out, and it sounds undeniably unlike yongguk.Ā āyouć ” itās not like youād care anymore, right? have you had your fun and revenge, now?ā
āiād try staying down a little bit longer if i were you, thereās a mean bruise forming right atop your ribs.ā his tongue flicks out between his lips shortly as he dabs ointment on the particularly mean-looking split lip, before he closes the tube again and picks up another one. āiāve got something for that here, but i just need to know if youāre allergic to anything?ā
judging by the chuckle and the evidently amused look that the stranger gives him, yongguk thinks rightfully that heās probably failed and has said something stupid that he canāt quite put his finger on. happens all the time, really, more than heād like to, but heās young and bold and too reckless, to the point where thereās been countless people telling him that maybe he should dial it down. plus, heās bang fucking yongguk and the worse that can happen is a few broken bones.
or so he thinks.Ā
even though he knows heās being laughed at more than with, yongguk still canāt help but throw a particularly pleased look at the elder (he looks and acts older, at least) that heās managed to incite some sort of laughter. he supposes that even if his cuts are stinging and the bruises are going to leave him feeling like hell tomorrow, itās nice to have someone pretty taking care of you like your designated nurse.
until a particularly loud yell from the ring leaves him scowling at the interruption, only to turn into a wince once he hears a large thud after that means someone probably didnāt have too great a night, even worse than his. he decides to not think about the broken body of another ugly fighter and glances back up, watching the way the person enunciates his words more strongly than other people do around him. now that yonggukās a bit more woken up, he can tell clearly that this personās a foreigner.
figures, he says to himself, you donāt get angels in korea.
he hisses at the impact of the ointmentās sting above his eye and he knows the stranger means well but it canāt help but hurt, like thereās being salt poured in. it only lasts for a second or so before itās replaced with a more cooling sensation that he welcomes and he lets out a sigh of relief, shifting from his position so heāsĀ a little more comfortable. or as comfortable as someone can get after being knocked out.
this time itās his turn to be amused, letting out a surprised peal of laughter at the otherās concentration of the exact words he had used.Ā āyeahć ” if youāre still learning korean, probably not a good phrase to know. at least not now.ā the corners of his lips curve into a dipped smile.Ā āforeigner, huh? iām guessing china.ā
he blinks, ointment being dabbed onto his split lip as he furrows his eyebrows.Ā āi donāt think iām allergic to anything,ā he offers as helpfully as he can, but itās kind of difficult when medical care is such a rarity where heās from.Ā āiām fine, iāve been through worse.ā
(arenāt you a bit too young? people ask him when he says stuff like that.
he tells them to fuck off.)
he being yongguk, but of course he is. thereās a feeling very much akin to apologetic in the way that his mouth molds against the elderās and even in heated scenarios like this he canāt help the way that his mind runs off onto other problems, like an ever ending train track of regret that wonāt stop until itās satisfied ruining him.
if the way jun looks at him has him feeling something hot at the bottom of his stomach, the growl afterwards has him positively dry mouthed, his chest flipping over into itself because itās rare that he sees the detached almost feral side of him compared to the one thatās usually sewn together with beautifully tied together ideologies and kindness. yongguk realises that this side makes him feel something that he canāt describe.
shut up, jun says to him and he hears, itās fine.
maybe it wouldnāt be so bad to let his emotions overrun his logic this time.
so he doesnāt stop kissing back, the atmosphere in the air thick and heavy with tension that neither of them can deny (he supposes this is what weeks of separation does. idly, he can remember the phrase absence makes the heart grow fonder somewhere near the back of his mind). but even so, he canāt help but be terrified that someone could walk in on them any second.
and oh, what a scandal that would make. kingsmanās very own knight, their precious gawain, locking lips with a thug like bang yongguk who barely belonged there as people used to (or do they still?) say. theyād demand his head on a spiked stick and the thought is enough to make him tense up for a second.
(if they want his head, they can take it.)
he doesnāt know when their position shifts entirely so that his back is pressed tight against the door, grazing his skin slightly in a way that feels better than it should when his shirt rides up so that itās halfway up his chest. thereās immediately the assault of cold air on his bare skin, goosebumps riding up and yongguk canāt bring himself to care. fingers dig into his back, enough to leave marks if they havenāt already and if jun just presses a little, little harder.
the idea of jun leaving marks on him appeals very much so.
he flushes light pink at the abrupt fondness thatās a change from the intensity before and itās so doting that he squirms under it, suddenly nervous as he releases his tight grasp from the back of junās suit. pity, he thinks, that heās probably crumpled the jacket by now.
āiāve missed you too.ā he says, nothing less of a lie but unsure of what else he can say that wonāt expose himself too much. he shifts, pretends that junās knee isnāt between his legs.
yongguk thinks about it, knows that he should leave and tell the higher ups that heās not, well, dead. but that takes too long.
he swallows.Ā āi ć ” not right now, i donāt.ā
he hopes heās right about that, or else he might just be rubbing salt in a wound along with antiseptic.
yonggukās living off adrenaline.Ā
see, it makes sense ć ” in the ring, when he sees the aura ofĀ āmaim or get maimedā surround everyone he canāt help but just think that he wants to be the formerć ” because he knowsĀ he deserves to feel as though heās alive. call it self pity or such, thereās something admirable (or so he tells himself because the idea of anything different is unfathomable) in digging himself out from the trash he had to call home for eighteen years.
maybe not entirely so. he remembers being at the young age of fifteen. not quite an adult yet, but his circumstances made him feel as though there wasnāt much difference between being one and not being one. he remembers approaching the club, lying through his teeth that there was someone in there that he knew, stepping in and having the stench of blood and rusting metal overwhelm him.
(he remembers finding home for the first time in his life,
he remembers it all.)
so even if it brings him to now, barely nineteen with blood on his knuckles and face and the iron smell dizzying him, he knows he canāt quit until he wins. and he punches but itās not quite enough. thereās a split second where he thinks he might win before it goes starts getting dim, cheek grazed against the gravel of the floor, the roar of the crowd deafening like vibrations in his ears.
he gives in.
when he wakes up, his head is rested on the lap of someone he canāt make the face out of and he squints against the bright lights of the arena. he can tell heās still in the club (if the shouts are any help with that) though itās muffled, like heās in a different room entirely and heās listening through walls that are thin. it doesnāt hurt at the beginning, and then thereās something rubbed into his wounds and he winces, eyes suddenly focusing on the stranger.
itās probably the alcohol thatās thrumming in his system too ć ” one of the hyungs had offered it, said it would make him feel less like heās looking through a hazy glass ć ” but he canāt help but stare, barely aware of the fact that he had been asked a question.
āof course i did. you should see the other guy.ā he blurts out, much like the stupid nineteen year old kid that he is trying to sound stronger in the presence of delicate beauty, specifically one thatās fixing his wounds up for him like some sort of angel. he bites his tongue to stop himself from asking dumb questions and winces again, shifting.
a pause.Ā āi donāt mean to sound stupidć ” fuck, this hurts like a son of a bić ” but, uh, iām not in heaven or something, right?ā
there are very few times lee jun loses his cool, but somehow bang yongguk seems to make it happen every time their eyes meet.
itās terrifying, to say the least, waiting for jun to reply instead of standing there with that calm facade of his thatās always pulled over his face like a mask, like a knight, like gawain instead of the lee jun that he knows and he hates it because itās his fault everything is suddenly so constrained. he wonders whether he knows how much yongguk wants to apologise, even if his tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth and every word feels like bile rising in his throat, stomach churning in a way so unpleasant.
he holds his breath, hopes that his attempt to drag them somewhere more private wasnāt noticed too much by the other employees and that they arenāt eyeing him with a mixture of suspicion and irritation becauseĀ āhow come bang yongguk gets to come back after a month and act like nothing ever happened?ā
so when his offer is accepted, he canāt help but look mildly pleased with himself and nod, hand buried deep in his pocket, like the world wonāt be crashing around him any second now if he just so happens to slip up and say something stupid like usual.Ā āi canāt promise i wonāt try enforce my paperwork on you,ā he replies, tone just short of something humorous because he will be throwing his workload on someone else ć ” just not jun. maybe one of the new trainees or kids below him.
(because thatās what theyāre there for, apparently.)
yet the anxiousness brews in his chest when he follows jun into one of the open rooms, gnawing on his bottom lip in something that isnāt fear but more like uncertainty. thereās an air that separates the two, thereās never something thatās a hundred percent certain between them.
they enter the room and he immediately sees the frown that sits on the elderās mouth and itās not a look that yongguk likes at all ć ” too overriden by the guilt and the knowledge that itās there because of him. he opens his mouth, about to make out some sort of half assed apology that he canāt help but say when he suddenly canāt breathe.
he kisses back with the fervour and passion of someone whoās trying to apologise and forget his regret, and his bag clatters to the ground as he reaches up to grip hair between his fingers. he tilts his head, mouth slotting against mouth before he pulls back, voice exhausted.
āi ć ” i left that night, iām sorry but i have tć ”Ā had to.ā
and then ā then ā this fucking asshole just has to put the final nail in the coffin for jinhwan and his already crumbling nerves. those words, that teasing in his phrasing, and then the lookĀ yongguk gives him ā eyes trailing down with the corners of his lips quirking. oh, well, today is just the day to be fucked over, isnāt it?
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