Chapter Text
It was still snowing outside. That was the first thing Jongwoo noted when he felt his eyes flutter open. The white speckles that decorated the window by his bed were unrelenting in their pursuit to fall- they poured forth upon the city below without any mercy.
Jongwoo wished the snow would bury Seoul and everyone in it. Time and time again this city had chewed him up and spit him out. He would not leave here with a heavy heart. He would not leave here with much of a heart at all. Seoul had given him a bad start and an even worse end… But it was not without its purpose.
He noticed Moonjo next. He was sitting in one of those awfully uncomfortable hospital chairs. His head was bowed. Composed and poised as he was, Jongwoo could tell by the rise and fall of his chest that he was asleep. He wasn’t alone either. He had a vicelike grip on a tiny bundle of blankets- his arms steady and unmoving like a human cradle.
The baby.
Jongwoo recognised carefully. That was…
The memories from before came flooding back. The police station. Eden. The knife. The blood. Moonjo. There was something achingly similar about this situation and yet it could not be more different.
He felt his hands itch for the child- to hold them, but he was too far away. He could not move, he could only see, only listen, only breathe.
That was enough for now.
The door to his room jostled and Jongwoo watched Moonjo snap to attention. He never let himself sleep around anyone but Jongwoo. It was a little factor of vulnerability that only he was privy to. A give to the usual take.
“Dr Seo, surely you want us to take her for a while so you can get some proper rest.” The nurse implored, motioning her hands toward their daughter.
Her.
A girl then.
They had a daughter.
Jongwoo watched as Moonjo stiffened a touch and brought her closer to himself. “I do not need rest.” Moonjo replied carefully. He was a lot less cordial than he usually was with strangers. All pale and distrustful. His mask was slipping and he was too distraught to fix it.
Had Jongwoo really wrecked him to this degree?
“Dr Seo…”
“Focus your efforts on him. Not me.”
The nurse, sheepish, nodded her head in acceptance before checking the chart by Jongwoo’s bed. As she looked up to inspect him, Jongwoo once again feigned sleep. A pure juxtaposition. Moonjo refused to not be awake for the world but Jongwoo would much rather feign unconsciousness.
If he had it his way, he’d pretend forever.
Clicking her tongue, the nurse stepped away, her heels shuffling into the middle distance. She left again without another moment’s delay- probably feeling those piercing black eyes crawling up her spine.
When the coast was clear, Jongwoo opened his eyes again.
There was no mistaking the fact that Moonjo looked exhausted- nor was there no mistaking the fact that he absolutely melted when he was faced with the child in his arms… A factor that both surprised Jongwoo yet felt expected all the same.
“Miseol-ah, you could have told me a nurse was coming.” He chided. There was a soft curve to his mouth that felt too desperately sad for it to be a smile.
Miseol. Jongwoo settled into the name. He hadn’t thought of a name for her. Not out loud at least. It felt like bad luck- courting fate, even. Miseol suited her well though. She arrived in the snow, after all.
…He could have killed her.
The thought weighed heavily on his heart. After all this fear, he had been the one to do the most damage to himself and to the baby. It was him all along. His brain, poisoning him with paranoia.
It was hard. Having something new to protect- to be afraid for… And he took it worse than anyone else. Jongwoo had no doubt that this would not be the end of his fear, but now that Miseol had arrived safely, despite all odds, he could feel himself settle a touch.
He didn’t dream anymore.
He could finally rest.
When Jongwoo awoke for the second time, Moonjo was still carrying their daughter. He never seemed to let her go. She looked to be something of a calming presence for him in this hellish scenario of theirs. A shock blanket to hold around his shoulders. Jongwoo felt stronger this time around. As he seated himself upright, he could finally see her sleeping face. Her dark mess of hair and her little nose.
-But being able to see also meant being seen.
“Jagiya.” Moonjo breathed.
For a moment, Jongwoo felt shy- almost. Unsure of what to do or say. “She looks like you.” He decided.
“You think so?”
“Yeah. Give me a closer look.”
Moonjo stiffened for a moment, subconsciously bringing the child closer to him just like he had with the nurses.
Jongwoo would have thought it sweet if it didn’t break his heart a little. “Hey... It’s okay.”
Moonjo nodded slowly in agreement, blinking once, twice and then three times. It seemed even he did not understand his trepidation. Pushing through his hesitation, he swept over to Jongwoo's side and carefully deposited their baby into his eager arms.
Instead of returning to his spot on that awful, awful chair though- he hovered over the two of them like a nervous gargoyle. Moonjo’s dark eyes stared, unblinking at the two of them. He looked every bit the weirdo that he was but behind that stare was a strange anxiousness that Jongwoo hadn’t quite noticed before. Moonjo was close right now, but it was clear that this proximity still wasn’t enough for him.
-With a sigh, Jongwoo flipped open the hospital duvet. “Get in here.”
Moonjo didn’t hesitate. He slipped into bed beside him without any fanfare. He was as warm as ever, Jongwoo noted- a comfort to Miseol, most assuredly. He’d never liked hot weather but there was something calming about that heat of his sometimes. As Jongwoo looked down at Miseol, he reconfirmed that she did, in fact, look a lot like Moonjo. Her pale skin and her dark eyes were like carbon copies of his.
“And she’s okay? There isn’t anything wrong with her?” Jongwoo asked.
“A little small, but completely healthy.”
Jongwoo nodded. “At the police station.” He said softly. “I thought you left us.”
Moonjo hummed- or at least, it seemed it was intended to be a hum. It came out more like a pained grimace. “I… would never want that.”
“You said you would never want this either, though.” Jongwoo stroked a gentle finger down Miseol’s cheek. Her soft skin felt like velvet against his thumb. “Now look at you. She’s never felt the bottom of the cradle, has she?”
Moonjo pointedly did not answer- confirming Jongwoo’s suspicions that he most assuredly had not put her down since she was born. It was almost pathetic- how undone Moonjo had become by this tiny creature… Though now that Jongwoo could feel the warm weight of her in his arms, he couldn’t help but understand… And commiserate.
“Do you think she hates me? For taking such poor care of her?”
“No.” Moonjo said plainly then. “Why would she hate someone that fought so hard to get her here?”
Jongwoo’s lip wobbled. “Because I did a really bad job.”
Moonjo paused- then he pressed a kiss to Jongwoo’s temple. It was something so anachronistically soft and tender that it made the tears spill down Jongwoo’s cheeks so much easier.
“I’m so glad you’re okay.” Jongwoo let out a shaky breath, eyeing Miseol as she sleepily blinked up at him. “I never thought I'd get to hold you.”
Sokcho never got as hot as Seoul did in the summer. It was one of the things that Jongwoo was most thankful for.
“Appa, why can’t I play in the basement?”
“I have an old friend staying there for now.” Jongwoo told her patiently as the pair of them washed vegetables in the kitchen. They were side by side with Miseol’s tiny footstool propped up against the sink.
Miseol tilted her head at him, her dark eyes curious. “...Why is he staying in the basement?”
“Because it’s colder down there... He doesn’t like the heat.”
“Ah... Like me. Like you.”
“Mn. Sort of.”
Miseol was a strange child. She did not blink very often. She did not make loud, exuberant exclamations. Her first word came much later than most children… But her second, third, fourth and fifth arrived only seconds later.
Jongwoo supposed it took her so long to speak because she was waiting to surmise a first sentence rather than a first word.
‘It’s too warm in here.’
Her tiny voice sounded like a wind chime- her words, eloquent and clear. Jongwoo blamed Moonjo for speaking to her like an adult from the day she was born… But the result wasn’t a hindrance, he supposed… Just a strange marvel, much like Miseol herself.
Yoon Miseol was quiet and inquisitive like a cat and eloquent like a tiny adult. At age five, she was already behaving better than most of the people Jongwoo encountered in his daily life.
There was no doubting that she was odd, but Jongwoo could tell by the way her dark eyes glittered that she was a happy child as well. That was all that really mattered.
Jongwoo often wondered if this was what Moonjo would have been like as a child had he been given a proper life. Would he have just been a harmless but completely odd child with odd mannerisms?
He would have liked to see that.
Jongwoo leaned down to her level and poked her nose. “We’re all done here. Why don’t you start your homework while I check on your father?”
“Okay, Appa.” Miseol nodded sagely. “I haven’t seen him. Is he with your friend?”
“He is. They had some catching up to do.”
Miseol nodded, drying her hands as she stepped down. “Is your friend going to have dinner with us?”
“I don’t think so, darling. He isn’t staying for long.”
Sokcho never got as hot as Seoul did in the summer. It was one of the things that Jongwoo was most thankful for. The smell of rot and decay was much less strong when the temperature was always mild. It made things much easier for them.
“He can’t take much, can he?” Jongwoo eyed Shin Jaeho, passed out on the chair as he sidled up next to Moonjo.
“Fainted the second he saw the blood.” Moonjo replied, flinging a pair of pliers on the metal tray beside him.
Jongwoo eyed the three teeth Moonjo appeared to have pulled in his absence before he moved to Jaeho himself. His hands were bound behind his back but he couldn’t help but notice the subtle glint of a wedding ring.
“I can’t believe she was stupid enough to marry him anyway.” Jongwoo noted, disappointed. He’d seen it on his social media feed. Jieun’s strained smile atop her makeup and curls. An extravagant affair for an extravagant lie.
“Mhm. It’s a shame we couldn’t make the wedding.” Moonjo noted. “That would have been fascinating.”
Perhaps it would have been. Jongwoo could envision a bit of a commotion. A bloody fistfight. The knife for the wedding cake driven through Jaeho’s heart… It would have been beautiful… But it would have been far too soon.
Even now, it was a tantalizing risk. Moonjo had brought him back from Seoul for their anniversary. A present. Another dead mouse on Jongwoo’s doorstep. One of many to come.
“Haven’t you heard that revenge is a dish best served cold?”
Moonjo just smiled at him. “Haven’t you heard that dinner is best served hot?”
“We’re not eating this bastard, Moonjo. He’d taste like soju and sleaze.” Jongwoo grimaced. He picked up a large hunting knife from Moonjo’s tables of horrors. He pictured the bok choy he had been chopping minutes earlier and sliced into a chunk of Jaeho’s flesh near his thigh.
The pain was enough to bring Jaeho back into the world of the living. He gasped out a pained screech, his mouth wide and bloodied.
“I thought you only took three teeth.” Jongwoo inspected the molars as Jaeho screamed.
“I did. That fourth one that’s missing is from when I punched him that night outside the bar.”
“Ah…” Jongwoo nodded, putting a hand to his chin as Jaeho cried. Frustrated, he kicked his ankle. “Aish, Hyung, don’t be so sensitive.”
From behind them, the kettle began to sing. Jongwoo stepped away and brewed the tea, the steam moistening his face as the leaves dyed the water below a soft brown.
“You decided against soju, Jagiya?” Moonjo tilted his head, curious.
Jongwoo hummed in affirmation. As he pulled at the tea handle, he could feel how boiling hot it still was. It hurt to touch, let alone ingest.
He eyed Jaeho, whose mouth had been rather helpfully pried open with a dental guard.
He smiled.
“Who knows? Maybe he won’t be able to taste the difference either.”