Consider Robert putting in the time and effort to cook a homemade meal for Flambae to surprise him because he deserves to be treated to something other than takeout when he's not cooking. I haven't decided what dish it would be, only that it is definitely above Robert's skill level in the kitchen, and it does not turn out well. It actually looks pretty close to the picture from the recipe he found online, but something about the taste is so, so off, and Flambae cannot hide his expression as soon as he takes the first bite. His smile instantly falls, his chewing slows, and his eyes narrow into a squint as he looks at Robert. Probably wondering if his boyfriend is trying to kill him.
Which Robert gets. He can barely swallow down his own piece. Eventually, he sighs and gives Flambae a sly grin. "No need to spare my feelings. You can spit it out if you want to."
"Oh, thank fuck!" He doesn't need to be told twice before he's out of his seat. "That tastes like the bottom of my shoe, Bobert!"
"And how exactly would you know what that tastes like?" Amused, Robert almost mentions the missed opportunity to make a joke about spitting and not swallowing but thinks better of it in the moment. He pulls out his phone and taps away at the screen while Flambae is at the sink, hosing down his tongue with water. "I'm ordering pizza."
"Damn right you are." When the sink turns off, Robert hands the phone to him, and Flambae drops a kiss upon his lips in exchange. "Don't worry. I'll help you learn how to make that one. Until then, stick with what you're good at if you're going to cook."
"Think you can handle another night of breakfast for dinner?" Robert teases, poking him in the side.
Somewhere out there is a beautifully tragic universe where the stars are aligned and the timelines matched up to where In-ho and Gi-hun experienced their first games together. No "Young-il," no lies, no deception. Not between them, at least. The two of them meeting at their lowest. In-ho being a bit on the reclusive side, keeping to himself mostly at first, simply observing from afar, but he can't help but be drawn in by Gi-hun, the latter's trusting nature balanced by In-ho's suspicious tendencies, and vice versa.
In this universe, Il-nam still presents In-ho with the knife the night after the dinner. In-ho still goes through with it, kills everyone while they're asleep in their beds. Well... almost everyone. He saves Gi-hun for last out of a foolish sense of sentimentality, but he hesitates too long.
Gi-hun wakes. They struggle, fighting until the guards intervene and separate them. (Il-nam pitting his two favorite players against each other.) Gi-hun stares at In-ho with hatred burning in his eyes, but In-ho doesn't try to justify what he's done. He deserves the full extent of Gi-hun's wrath. Part of him welcomes it even.
Then, during Squid Game, Gi-hun proves more resilient than he anticipated. Once he gains the upper hand, In-ho is bracing for him to deliver the killing blow, except it never comes. Gi-hun calls to end the games like he does in canon.
And when Gi-hun offers his hand out to him, something inside In-ho shatters.
Because he's seen the worst in In-ho. He's been betrayed by him. In-ho knows that forgiveness is not on the table, yet Gi-hun still chooses to believe that there is good in him nonetheless. There's that familiar spark in his eyes, that stubbornness that In-ho mentioned reminded him of his wife. Gi-hun isn't giving up on him. And for a moment, he's blinded by this man, this light in the darkness. In-ho knows he should take advantage of the moment, that he should turn the tide and kill him. Victory is so close that he could almost taste it.
I have a WIP in mind for this to fit into but forever obsessed with this idea of, once they're exclusive, official, etc. after being casual for awhile, Flambae will stroll right up to Robert in the break room, leans against the table he's at, and tries to act all cocky in his approach.
"Hey, Bobert. You know, if you're my boyfriend now, then you're taking me on a date tonight..." He adds it as an afterthought. "Bitch."
Robert stares at him until he squirms, then smiles.
"Okay," he says and turns to pick at his lunch again, ignoring Flambae's stunned expression.
You and me both! Glad I got around to this one. Everyone, round of applause for In-ho's acting skills, or let's all beat him to death with pool noodles, idk, one or the other or both. Also @cotteafeline pretty sure your post here was what inspired the ending on this one. 😌
...
When they arrived home, Young-il stormed off into the bedroom without another word, leaving Gi-hun to watch as he disappeared out of sight.
Taking a deep breath, Gi-hun braced himself before following after, accompanied by the sound of his crutches with every step.
"Don't do this," he warned upon entering.
Young-il's jaw clenched.
"Do what?"
"Make something out of nothing," Gi-hun huffed, shifting to try and ease the pain building in his leg. "You're acting childish."
"Oh, I am the one acting childish?" Young-il leveled him with a glare that pierced straight through him to the core. "That's rich, coming from you."
"Seriously?"
"I'm not the one sneaking out of the house like a teenager, ignoring your texts and calls," he snapped. "What if something happened to you while you were gone on your little adventure, Gi-hun? Huh? What then?"
No, no, no. Young-il didn't get to throw this back into his face as if Gi-hun was somehow in the wrong. Since when was visiting a friend such a crime?
"Well, it's such a relief you did what any sane person would do and tracked my phone to keep me 'safe,' isn't it?!"
"You are so immature, ungrateful—"
"Says the overbearing, inconsiderate asshole!" Gi-hun shouted, regretting the words the second they left his lips.
Young-il's expression darkened, his eyes sharp with a barely-contained rage.
His response cut through the tense silence with the finality of an executioner's axe.
"Get out."
Panic seized Gi-hun by the throat, and he choked out, "W–What?"
"Spend the night in the guest room," Young-il clarified, his lips curled into a scowl. "If you need space so bad, then go sleep in there. Get away from me and my suffocating presence."
Shit, so he did hear more of that conversation than he let on.
"Wait, that wasn't what I—"
"Get. Out."
He really wasn't going to let Gi-hun defend himself?
Gaping, he opened and closed his mouth, likely resembling a fish out of water while shock and indignation warred inside him.
Face flushed, Gi-hun eventually snapped, "Fuck you, Young-il," grumbling under his breath as he made his less-than-graceful exit on his crutches.
He hadn't slept in the guest room since Young-il first brought him home, so being cast out of the sanctuary that Gi-hun started thinking of as theirs stung a bit, to say the least.
Once he made it into the spare bedroom, Gi-hun made a point of slamming the door behind him. Biting back a frustrated scream, he plopped down onto the bed in spite of his aching body, his crutches clattering noisily to the ground. To make matters worse, he realized a second too late that he had left his pain meds in their bathroom. Relief would have to wait until Gi-hun's pride allowed him to speak to Young-il again, it would seem, Gi-hun staring up at the ceiling with a stubborn frown.
His mind racing a mile a minute, Gi-hun didn't know how long he laid there like that, only that he started to drift in and out of sleep after the pain dulled to a more tolerable level. Never quite gone, but easier to cope with at least.
Time passed by in a blur while he continued to sulk atop his covers, fully clothed. When he awoke for the umpteenth time that night, he pulled out his phone to try and take his mind off of that stupid argument.
It wasn't until then that he was reminded of the little souvenir he took from Jung-bae.
Out fell the card from his pocket, and there again arose that accompanying sense of dread that Gi-hun felt the first time upon seeing it.
Setting his phone down onto the bed, he picked the card up to stare at the three shapes printed upon its surface. A circle, a triangle, and a square. Then on the back, there was a number to call. For a split second, Gi-hun's fingers twitched towards his phone, only to be interrupted by a sudden knock on the door.
"Gi-hun?"
Startled, he nearly jumped out of his skin, quick to yank open the drawer to the nearby nightstand.
"Just a sec!"
Apparently, Young-il took that literally because Gi-hun barely had time to toss the card inside and slam the drawer shut before he was entering the room. Brow raised, Young-il's gaze skimmed over the nightstand, but he let the matter drop.
For now, at least.
Gi-hun didn't dare look at him until he sat on the edge of the bed, scooting closer so that their legs brushed.
"Hey." Red, puffy eyes stayed trained on a spot on the bedspread between them. Young-il picked at a loose thread, his voice small. "I'm sorry about before."
"I'm sorry, too," Gi-hun sighed, shifting atop the blanket to make room for him. At the silent invitation, Young-il didn't hesitate to curl up against his side, burying his face into the crook of Gi-hun's neck. "I don't know why you put up with me." He trailed his fingers down Young-il's spine, delighting in the shiver he received in response. "Some days, I feel like you're wasting all this time and effort on a complete stranger."
"But you're not," Young-il insisted. "You're not a stranger. You're still the same guy who feeds stray cats on your way home, even when you don't have much to share. The same delightful man who prefers chocolate milk to plain." At Gi-hun's chuckle, Young-il continued with a warm smile that set his heart aflutter. "The same frustrating, stubborn ass who refuses to tell me when he's in pain or having a nightmare." Brushing Gi-hun's hair back from his face, Young-il rested his forehead against his, his expression open and tender. "No matter what, you're still my Gi-hun… Yes, even after you dyed your hair that ridiculous shade of red."
What? The last time he remembered dyeing his hair at all, he was in his twenties.
"Now I know you're lying," he teased in a huff, unable to keep his smile at bay.
Especially at being called his.
"I'm not!" Young-il said, nudging his nose against his. "It was cute, though. I even have pictures to prove it if you'd like to see."
Gi-hun made a point of tightening his arm around him, pulling him in closer against his side. "Maybe tomorrow."
As far as Gi-hun was concerned, the worst of their disagreement was far from over. There was a lot that they still needed to discuss, boundaries that needed to be set, but it could wait until later. Tonight…
Tonight, all he wanted was to fall asleep in Young-il's arms without a care in the world.
Then again, he couldn't help but push his luck a little.
"Tell me," Gi-hun hummed, sparing a quick glance towards his lips, "would it be too much to say that seeing you angry like that earlier really did it for me?"
Mouth agape, Young-il blinked owlishly at him.
"Seriously?"
"Is it really that surprising?" Heat rushed to fill his cheeks. "For a second, I thought you were going to bend me over your knee and spank me."
Young-il let out a dark laugh.
"Tempting." He stole a quick peck, smiling when Gi-hun chased after his lips for another. "If we're careful with your leg, then maybe that could still be arranged."
"You're terrible."
"You're the one that suggested it!" They shared a bright laugh, Young-il searching his expression before meeting Gi-hun's eyes again, his voice soft, gentle. "I don't want you to feel imprisoned here. This is your home."
Gi-hun's heart skipped a beat.
How did he always manage to do that? One look, a single touch, and Gi-hun was like putty in his hands.
Once he managed to catch his breath again, Gi-hun told him, "You know, there are ways to remedy that. You could just take me out of the house more often before I go crazy."
It shouldn't have been so adorable, how quick Young-il perked up like a puppy given a treat.
"You mean, like on dates?"
"Well, those are your words, not mine." It wasn't quite what he intended, but it sure couldn't hurt.
"You're not denying it, though," Young-il said, then nodded to himself. "I'll keep it in mind."
"You do that." Briefly, Gi-hun considered falling asleep, but another thought struck him, one that demanded his attention. "Young-il."
"Yes?"
Gi-hun took a deep breath, although it did little to calm his nerves.
"When we were talking in the car earlier, I think it might have brought up a memory of us," he confessed, quick to clarify, "from before the accident."
There was a slight pause as Young-il processed that, his hand frozen where his fingers had started tracing patterns along his waist. "Is that so?"
"Mm-hmm…" Gi-hun nodded, studying him closely. "It wasn't much, but I remembered your voice. You said something about horses. You mentioned betting." Brow furrowed, he cocked his head to the side, pouting at all the muddled details. "Did we ever go to the races together?"
His response was immediate. "Yes."
Were Gi-hun not blinded by affection back then, maybe he would have spotted it at the time. That sudden glint of awareness shining within those shrewd, dark eyes.
"I remember…" He squinted as he tried to fit the pieces together. "You pouring us drinks?" That's what he assumed at least, but he didn't recall drinking himself. Ah, well. Shaking off the disappointment of running into yet another wall, he let the memory slip away for the moment, beaming at Young-il instead. "Did we at least win big that day?"
This is a passion project of mine at the moment because it is a topic that I feel strongly about. Please note that the intention of these posts is to mainly draw awareness to and educate on the patterns and attitudes directed towards black characters that I have personally witnessed in my time across multiple fandoms. I will not be tagging these with the main fandom tags or any characters mentioned, but you are more than welcome to in any reblogs. For ease of use, I will be pinning this post and updating it with what is basically a table of contents to help you navigate to the part of the essay you're seeking. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.
Also, remember that I am a human, imperfect and flawed as anyone else. These are my observations and musings, and are not to be interpreted as a generalization to any one group. Thank you for understanding. 💙
If you want to filter this out by tags, the one I will be using is "#antiblack racism in fandom".
Part 1: Respecting Black Characters You Don't Agree With
Part 2: The "Boring Black Man" Phenomenon
Part 3: Taking Back Black Stories
Ask: Writing Vivienne
An Aside: Avoiding the Extreme of the "Perfect" Black Character
Part 4: The "Straight-coded" Black Man
Eldrin Should Have Been Black: A Take on Bioware and Black Fatherhood
Have a snippet Sunday with some last minute flambert that I totally didn't forget to post earlier, ft. some words of wisdom from Flambae.
Embarrassingly enough, Robert's feet moved of their own volition, drawn back in like a dog yanked around on a leash.
"You know, for someone who loves to call my ass flat, it certainly doesn't stop you from looking."
"And why would it, idiot?" Chad rolled his eyes at him. "A slice of cake is still a slice a cake, no matter how big or small. Pretty to look at. Good enough to eat."
"I hate that any of those words made sense in this context." Or that it likely ranked among one of the nicest things Chad has ever said to him.
