Goo Kim x Reader: Realisations and Confessions
G/N. 1.5k. Sorta silly. Masterlists
An unfortunate side effect of Gun's ass being hauled off to prison is that Goo has more spare time on his hands, and you now have an annoying blonde on yours.
If you really think about it, his behaviour started further back than you can recall and has grown so constant and insidious, you're not sure if there was ever a time before this.
Maybe there was. But you don't like to dwell on it because it makes your current days all the more fruitless and depressing. You don't want to lament the past freedom you wasted, the joy you experienced without a pesky clingy idiot called Goo Kim hanging off you.
Almost everyday without fail, there'll be calls and a barrage of messages from Goo. If you ignore him for too long then he shows up at your door. If you respond, hours are wasted listening to him.
Truly a lose-lose situation.
And what does he like to tell you about?
Mostly inane bullshit, complaints about this and that, whatever crap his single overworked brain cell can conjure up. You’re pretty sure you’ve spent more time with him, talking to him, in the last 6 months than anyone else in your entire life.
So yes, call it cabin fever or stockholm syndrome or any other psychological phenomenon you can think of; but now, when the silence has stretched for too long, when you don’t hear the telltale buzz or ping from your phone, when a familiar figure doesn’t darken your doorstep-
You start to wonder what Goo is doing. You think you miss him.
It's not that Goo is lonely, it's just that he's used to attention.
Gun Park would always sit there wordlessly when they ran their missions together, no doubt tuning him out. Still, it was an audience wasn't it. Someone that Goo could rattle off ideas and thoughts to. He's just thinking aloud, and Gun had happened to be in the general vicinity.
And then Gun became immersed with even more shady Charles Choi dealings, had offered you as a sort of occasional substitute - someone competent that could deal with the Four Crews alongside Goo.
And it was nice, having a new audience that Goo could bounce his unhinged ideas off of. It was also nice testing your patience and sanity. The fire in your eyes when he said something particularly foul, or the way your nostrils flared, or seeing how long it would take you to roll your eyes.
The days when Gun was back and it was just the two of them again, sure, some of their trips ran a bit easier, success was swifter, though the company was undeniably less pleasant.
And finally, when Goo realised that you're not Gun's lackey or side piece or whatever but someone to be reckoned with; that you have thoughts of your own, there's scheming and plotting and deviousness behind that facade of pleasantness, well-
(Hold on as he tries not to gag at this confession-)
The trouble is that Goo is never fond of anyone, at least not the way he is with you. He has his secret friends and his contacts but not someone he considers a confidante (not that you're likely aware that you're his confidante).
And when he's fond of someone, then even he feels a pang of pity for whoever has captured his full attention. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a stray thought sometimes lingers too close to realisation - a realisation that he is too much, too intense, too suffocating. Surely no normal, sane person could put up with him-
But he's not the retrospective type, so he never truly develops that self awareness, never has that realisation. Anyway.
You're a busy person, Goo's a busy person and there's days and weeks where your paths don't overlap.
So he frequently finds himself reaching for his phone, texting you and sending you gifs and memes. Often you leave him on read, and he shrieks at the audacity of you leaving him on read. He punishes you by not reaching out for the next couple hours but he's always the one that gives in.
That's another first, isn't it. Goo doesn't give in.
But with you there's no harm.
He reasons it's almost cathartic to info dump on you. To at least know you haven't blocked him even if you don't respond. And despite all this, you still pick up your phone every time he calls. Sometimes after a few too many rings, though nevertheless you're listening to him. Murmuring appeasements as he rambles on and god, there's nothing better to hear your voice after a long day and he realises how much he's missed y-
Behind his glasses, Goo's eyes widen comically big.
Now that is a realisation.
Lately Goo has been nagging you to join him for a drink.
Somewhere between Goo recruiting Logan as a secret friend, and the disbanding of the temporary Fifth Affiliates, drinking sessions with you have become a semi-regular occurrence.
Not that he's drinking. Alcohol rarely touches Goo's lips. He likes his tongue sharp and mind sharper, and the effect of the beers and sojus only serve to dull his senses.
Still. It’s been far too long.
Tonight, by your third drink, as usual your defences are slightly lowered and your lips are loose. The roles have reversed and Goo is the one listening to you.
Whining about your life, Gun owing you something or another before he was locked up, the troubles with some new gangs you’ve encountered, a dull ache in your hip from an old injury, and surprisingly-
The conversation twists and turns to an entirely new topic.
Not without some prodding and poking by Goo, that is. He hints at some shadowy figures in the corner of this dingy bar checking you out and cackles when you glare daggers; taunts you about being single and forever alone and how beggars can’t be choosers.
Then when you consider smashing the bottle of beer you’re currently nursing and glassing him in the face, you deflate and drop your head into the palm of your hands.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“Me?” He feigns innocence when you peer at him between the cracks of your fingers.
“Why are you such a fucking asshole all the time?”
Unexpectedly, Goo bristles at your jab. “Hey,” he leans down to murmur in your ear, “You’re being awfully mean to me.”
He relishes you shivering at his closeness.
“Am not,” Then after a beat, “You started it.”
Even in your hazy consciousness, you realise how childish you sound. You outwardly cringe.
To move swiftly on from your embarrassment, you find a particularly interesting spot on the wall in front of you and once you talk, you find that it’s hard to stop.
It’s not that you’re not interested in anyone, it’s just difficult isn’t it? FInding the time and the right person in your line of work. There’s so much you need to hide unless you find someone already in this world. And anyone that is involved in this is fucked up enough as it is. Hardly relationship material. But you’re still young, there’s no rush. Though it’ll be nice to have someone to share a life with, who gets you, who greets you after a long tiring day, who looks after you-
A voice somewhere to your right breaks through your rambling. You snap your head around to stare at your companion.
“I said, cupcake,” Goo shrugs, eyes boring into yours even though his body feigns nonchalance, ”I’ll look after you.”
Your brows knit together. Maybe it’s the alcohol that prevents you from immediately joining the dots. Maybe it’s the impossibility of what he has just implied.
“Why are you going to do that?” you blurt out.
At your question, an emotion that you can’t quite put your finger on flashes across Goo’s face.
He hesitates, and you notice how loud the hesitation is. You watch the casual way he runs his fingers through his blonde locks and realise it’s not casual at all. He’s buying time for his answer.
You suddenly feel unbearably hot. You’re certain you’re blushing. You try to stop your face from breaking into a grin and you know that you’re failing.
Your eyes dart to Goo’s and find them watching you closely from behind his glasses.
He’s confessed, in a way, and he’s realised your brain is whirring away, finally able to put two and two together. He’s waiting for your answer, Handing you the power, leaving the ball in your court.
“Ok,” you squeak, voice almost failing you. You clear your throat roughly. “Let’s try it.”
Not the most romantic agreement yet Goo can’t stop the heat rising to his cheeks or the way his stomach flutters. And now, he realises, that the grin on his face matches yours.
