💔🎀 Losing friends hurt like hell, so why does he seem so unfazed? 🎀💔
hihi! this is my first time ever posting my writing online, please enjoy! ^^ 💀 (sorry if it's absolutely dog LOL)
: slight angst, happy-ish ending
Gun Park was unfeeling. A cruel, cold bastard purely entertained by fights and bloodshed. The closest thing to emotions you've seen on him was that stupid melancholic look whenever he thinks nobody's watching. The rare moments when you catch him lost in thought, drowning in them even.
Though, after years of working alongside him and Goo for Charles in HNH, you've grown to learn his little quirks. You learn that he's a good cook, those bloodstained, scarred hands make the most delicate and mean sushi. You learn when he's in a bad mood, he'd sulk, and when he's in a good mood— Well, he'd sulk less.
You hate that you know this, that you memorize the way his eye twitches when Goo irritates him, and how a ghost of a crooked smile graces his stupidly intimidating scarred face whenever he's intrigued or amused or whatever a normal person would refer to as "happy".
Gun Park was not normal. Gun park was not a happy man, but he was your friend. Someone you cared deeply for, and if you dare think too long— loved.
The cold winter air blows through the shitty junkyard he calls his place. Cursing as you brave the freezing wind, you barge into his house, face red from the weather but also from crying.
Goo had just told you his plans on betraying Charles Choi, hell, he even asked you to join him knowing full well your loyalty lies with Gun.
He had asked Gun too, he mentioned in passing with a pitiful sadness in his eyes.
Of course Gun rejected. If it's one thing you knew, but never understood— Gun park was Charles Choi's most loyal mutt.
Still, you can't help but worry about the poor man, knowing deep down, despite how much he'd never admit it, it must sting to lose a dear friend like this.
However, you thought wrong because when you barged in, it seemed like Gun was unfazed, barely even acknowledging you.
He was preparing a meal, skillfully slicing through sashimi as if it was some normal fucking day. As if his partner, a third of your dear trio did not just propose the most sickening betrayal.
"Are you okay?" You ask, sadness engulfing you as you spoke. It felt too real, acknowledging it.
"Aren't you sad?" You try again.
The question felt almost naïve- like a child asking why rain was wet- but yet it was a thought you had wondered yourself.
With no response, you almost thought he hadn't heard you until a long sigh left his lips that came as an exhale of warm air in the chill of the air around you both. His gaze still stuck downcast, Gun pauses for a second before resuming slicing the fish again.
"Sad about what?" He murmurs, as if confused, as if you had asked something stupid.
"Don't play dumb. You know what I'm talking about. I'm talking about our friend, Goo." You furrow your brows. You don't get it. Why wasn't he affected? Why didn't he care? How was he still so fucking unfeeling when it felt like your world was falling apart?
Gun pauses again. You notice the way his shoulders stiffen at the word 'friend'. He puts down the knife, and you almost think he ignores your question, your concern again until he finally speaks.
"Liar." Fucking liar. You hiss, fists clenched in frustration. He had to be lying.
He turns to look at you, black scleras and white irises boring into yours for a moment before he lets a soft hum escape his lips, a sound of thought.
It was almost as if he was trying to understand why you were so upset, that you felt that way, as if he was incapable, unable to.
"He was just a business associate to me. I don't see any use in getting emotional over him." He eventually says blankly.
"Is that how you feel about me too?"
A wave of instant regret washes over you for even asking, afraid that the answer would hurt.
Correction, you know the answer would hurt.
Gun is caught off guard slightly, his jaw clenching tight, eyes darting around your face as if he was searching for something in your expressions, something to decipher.
He opens his mouth to reply but he falters, his hand clenching into a tight fist. This time, he pauses a lot longer before replying, his voice quieter, as if he knew the answer would hurt you but he spoke anyway. That jerk.
"It is nothing but business between us too."
What were you expecting? You knew it was foolish to expect more. You fucking knew it.
You turn to leave, not wanting that jerk to see you cry.
Guilt shoots through Gun's brain as he watches her stand, trying to brush of the disappointment that was clearly etched across your face.
For some reason, seeing you sad and dejected, it doesn't feel right to him. He finds himself speaking before he can stop himself.
"Where are you going?" He asks gruffly.
"I'm going after Goo. I'm going to convince him to stay." You head to the door, trying not to cry.
Gun hand darts out and wraps around your wrist, halting you in your path.
"Hey." His tone is firm, almost commanding. Typical.
That familiar guilt twists in his chest, seeing you refuse to meet his gaze.
Gun tightens his grip around your wrist, his other hand reaching up to gently but firmly turn your head towards him.
"Look at me." He demands, voice rough but quieter than before.
He's met with your big, innocent round ones— glassy and brimming with tears.
Seeing how your eyes shone, the clear signs of fighting back tears, immediately causes something in Gun's chest to twist violently. He doesn't know why.
Gun park is apathetic. So why does he feel so guilty here?
His grip around your wrist and chin loosens a fraction as a small pang of guilt hits him but he quickly locks it away, trying to school his expression, to remain emotionless, to remain uncaring.
"Why are you crying?" He asks gruffly, his tone lacking its usual indifference.
"Why do you care?" you mutters, shaking his hand off your wrist.
He hated how stubborn you were being, acting all upset over something so… trivial.
"Answer me." He ordered, forcing you to look at him. "Why. Are. You. Crying."
He was beginning to sound angry without meaning to. He hates it. This sick temper, the impatience and cruelty that runs in his veins.
Ultimately, he just hates that he's lashing out at you.
"Are you an idiot or just a jerk?" You reply, a tear rolling down your cheek.
Anger flared in Gun's eyes the second the word idiot leaves your lips. The fact that you were crying because of him, it was driving him insane.
"Watch your damn attitude."
He was getting increasingly frustrated, a scowl now on his face.
"Just tell me why you're crying."
"I thought we were friends, Gun." You mumble.
It felt embarrassing to admit it out loud. Suddenly, the cause of your sadness seemed so miniscule, so childish. But it stung. It stung so bad.
"For what it's worth," You let out a bitter laugh. "You wer- You are my friend."
He was supposed to be emotionless, to not care, to not give two shits about what happened. So why was it hurting him to see you this upset?
Frustrated, his hand dropping limply to his side, his gaze dropping to the floor.
"I don't know why you're so dead set on being loyal to Charles Choi. Hell, I'm only still here because I enjoyed the shenanigans and our friendship." You admit.
"I want to see you succeed, even if I don't know your motive."
Gun remains quiet, his gaze still trained on the floor. He listens to your every word, your admission that you only stayed because of that stupid friendship between the three of you and his jaw clenches.
You want to see him succeed— even when you don't know why he is so devoted to Charles.
"Shut up." He mutters angrily, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.
"But now," You continue, despite his protest.
"It seems like our time is up. It seems like this era is ending. Goo knows, you know it too. So why am I still grieving? Why am I the only one feeling so torn?" You croak, wiping away your tears that seem to fall no matter how desperately you wipe. Pathetic.
"I've never been happier, never had friends, and now it's all slipping away."
The past creeps up on you, remembering the loneliness before joining HNH. You hated it. You hated it so much. And maybe you had taken the comfortability of this little trio for granted, granted that this arrangement wasn't meant to be forever anyways.
Your words struck something in Gun, the way you snapped at him. But instead of the usual anger flaring in his eyes, there was something else this time around. Guilt, and maybe even understanding.
"You're crying over nothing." He muttered stubbornly, trying to ignore the strange feeling of loss gnawing at him. He hates that he understands, that he relates. Pathetic.
"To you it may be nothing," You croak in defeat. "To me, our friendship— you're everything."
Fucking hell, the tears just wouldn't stop no matter how hard you wiped. Pathetic.
"Why are you so loyal to Charles Choi?" You plead. You want to know, to understand, but deep down you know Gun would never open up. You'd be right.
Why the hell was he so devoted to Charles? For a moment he contemplates telling her about his past, about his family, about his Shingen. How he desperately wanted to see a Shingen that didn't choose his son.
This was stupid. He was not supposed to be affected by you, your questions, your sadness, your pleading.
"That's none of your business." He snapped back, more out of frustration than anger now. Frustrated at himself, at you, at how goddamn shitty he felt.
"I'll support you." You cut him off.
"I don't know what's your motive, your rationale, but I'll stay." Your fists were clenched hard.
"Once all this is over, I'll talk some sense into Goo, I'll get him back. And then we'll all be happy again."
Gun's heart stutters slightly at your words, you'll stay by him no matter what his motives are? And then that promise to bring Goo back?
But something else flared up with your words too. A strange sense of protectiveness and gratitude Gun Park was unfamiliar with.
He was quiet for a second before scoffing, trying to disguise the effect your words had on him.
"You're a goddamn fool." He muttered almost fondly.
"I don't care." You hiss, defiant.
"I'll rather be a fool with my friends than be a lonely, arrogant prick."
Gun can't help but chuckle darkly at your defiant tone.
He took another step closer, his tall frame towering over you, his eyes narrowing down at you.
"You're going to regret it, you know." He stated gruffly, his mouth curled into a dark, amused smirk.
"Regret what?" You challenge. Despite your small frame and naiveness, it's defiant moments like these that reminded him of your fiery self, your strong resolve and morals that kept you alive in this wicked industry.
How did someone so sweet end up in this fucked up situation to begin with? Not that he was one to judge.
You look up at him, defiant eyes still scanning his features fearlessly, despite being tear stained. Awaiting his answer.
It was strangely endearing, seeing your tear stained face, staring up at him with those defiant eyes that looked as if they held the fire of a thousand suns in them.
He didn't understand the strange urge to pull you against him, to wrap you in his arms and hold you close. He thinks it's some twisted form of gratitude, for caring, for staying.
Instead, he reached down and cups your face in his hand, his thumb gently caressing a tear off your cheek.
"You're not answering me." You mutter, awkwardly letting him wipe your tears off. Your cheeks were burning from the sudden closeness.
Gun let out a dark chuckle at your stubbornness, unable to deny a part of him was amused and somewhat endeared by how you continued to challenge.
His thumb stops at your lower lip, tracing it gently, before he replies.
"You'll regret staying by my side." he mutters.
"Why?" You ask, to which he scoffs. Of course, you'd prod.
Gun's heart clenched at your meek yet stubborn tone, but he just couldn't push away the strange sense of protectiveness and fondness he always felt when it came to you. Curse you for making him feel so weak.
He leaned down closer, his face now just inches from yours, and said in a low, gruff voice, "Because I'll only bring you pain and heartbreak."
"Everything worth cherishing comes with that." You mutter. "If it doesn't hurt, then it isn't real."
Gun almost laughed out loud at your words. How could you be this naive, this dumb, this goddamn stubborn, when it came to him of all people?
His grip on your face tightened fractionally as he leaned even closer, your faces now almost touching, his voice a low, rough murmur.
"The world only cares about result, life is all about consequences."
It was a warning. That prick. It seems like you were destined to butt heads on ideology, yet, fuck the warnings— throw caution to the wind.
Today, you just want to keep your friend.
Gun Park was unfeeling. A cruel, cold bastard purely entertained by fights and bloodshed.
But today, he just wants to keep you too. 🩷
