Chapter Text
Hwang In-ho doesn’t have dreams anymore. Or, more accurately, he doesn’t sleep long enough to have any worth remembering. A couple hours, here and there. He found out pretty early on that he can't operate without sleep, but just limiting it manages to keep the nightmares away. For the most part. Instead they seep into his waking life; a warped reflection or a bloodstain that won’t go away, a shadow out of the corner of his eye. His broken mind, playing tricks…
“ It was just a dream… think of it that way… it really wasn’t a bad one for you, either.”
How stupid. At the time, he wishes he could have said it with more conviction, more belief. But he had hoped maybe Gi-hun would buy the lie easier than he had. He really had hoped he would be able to put the games behind him; maybe if it worked for Gi-hun it could have worked for In-ho too, in some other life.
A dream… just a bad dream .
He actually has to fight back a derisive laugh. A dream? A dream does not leave scars on your mind and body, permanent reminders of what you were willing to do, or have done to you in order to live another day. In order to save the ones you love. In-ho knew this. Gi-hun knew this. That's why he needed him.
In-ho shudders, clenching his teeth until his jaw muscles strain. He has worked far too hard, sacrificed far too much of himself to make it here. And he is at risk of losing it all- all for one man.
Seong Gi-hun is an idealistic fool. A true needle in the haystack, in terms of the usual contestants. Naive, optimistic... not to mention trusting- far too trusting for his own good. In-ho knows all about the man's life, he's done as much research into Gi-hun's life before the games as he's kept track of him since the games. The fact that he has not resorted to suicide or substance use since winning the 33rd game is a statistical wonder. He may have been the only winner not to. Well, besides In-ho.
But, no. He’s not being entirely fair. Frankly, it’s harder to see him as a fool when In-ho has personally felt himself shift- ever so slightly- in his presence. Seeing the man through a screen was one thing, but coming face to face with his warm eyes, his encouraging spirit? Against his own better judgement, he's even felt himself rooting for Gi-hun.
I have changed you… can you change me?
And-
If you can't change me, I hope you kill me.
And finally-
I can't help but wish for both.
In the short amount of time they’d been face to face, In-ho’s obsession has caught aflame, burning and twisting into something out of control. Perverse. Carnal. He finds himself purposefully canting into Gi-hun’s space, unable to tear his eyes away. In-ho is positively fascinated. The way sweat beads at the nape of his neck when he’s concentrating, the way his body is lithe at fifty two, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles… He wants to wreck Gi-hun, wants to control and be controlled, wants to take him apart and rebuild him; wants to crack open his head and find out what makes him so damn good, what makes him different than In-ho.
He's never pursued a relationship with a man before, beyond a drunk kiss or two in his early twenties. Is that what this is? Is that what he wants it to be? Is that what stirs in the pit of his stomach? Some sick fascination or something more… He can't let himself see it that way despite himself.
His stomach twists with guilt. What would his wife think…
He and Myeong-sun had met young, their marriage an inevitability of their relationship. Stubborn as she was, and inexperienced as they both were, they would have ended up together regardless. He had loved her with every atom of his being, but that wasn’t enough to save her, or their child…He feels another intense pang of guilt at that memory. What is wrong with him? And then, like a sieve, thoughts of her bring back even more memories.
After the games, being left on a curb, rushing to get to the hospital where his wife was staying- too late, too late. A line at the atm, cabs driving past without stopping. In-ho, wailing with despair when he finally made it to the hospital. Myeong-sun had died just hours before, never even realizing her husband hadn't abandoned her. Their child- In-ho hadn't wanted to know the gender, he wanted to be surprised- hadn't survived either.
She had been too weak to even hold a pen at the end- there was no letter. No closure, no goodbye.
Just silence.
After the funeral, and after his mother and Jun-ho stopped bothering to visit, his life had been devoted only toward learning what he could about the masked VIPs, the games, and past winners. He had tried- really tried- to go back to his previous life. But it wasn't the same. He had paid the medical bills, broken the lease on his old apartment, their old apartment. He couldn't bear to stay in the same bed he and his wife had shared. It still smelled like her. The gifts, the baby clothes, the crib half assembled in the corner of the tiny living room. He left it all behind. That life belonged to a man who bled out on a dirt field, stabbed in the back during the final game.
The scar itches like a reminder every time he thinks about it. It was an inch from his remaining kidney. If the knife had been a bit longer, if player 022 had been a little more attentive...
After that, his experience had actually been quite similar to Gi-hun’s. But when he had gone to the recruiter looking for answers, he had returned with an offer to return to the games as a soldier. A little card, the same kind he got when he went to the games in the first place.
He had declined at first, of course. The idea repulsed him beyond belief. The longer he spent in his tiny apartment, however- pacing, alone, staring at his fish- the more he felt he was going insane.That was when they told him what happened to the previous winners. And he agreed. What else was he supposed to do? There was nowhere he could turn- no living soul he could confide in about what had happened without sounding insane.
In-ho had worked hard- very hard- to keep his memories of this time as few as possible. He drank, took pills- any pills, anything that would let him forget the view from behind those damn masks. Anything that would let him drown out the pleas for life.
There's nothing he could have done, that's what he tells himself. Over and over and over. Just the way of things.
He worked through the ranks until he found himself as a manager, then- manager of the games, second only to the founder of the games himself- Oh Il-nam. The memories from this time are dreadfully clear: the lens of sobriety sharpens the picture. He remembers the bodies, the organ harvesting ring he had found. Livers, kidneys, eyes, lungs... all packed up in coolers like a meat market. The blind rage he had flown into, mercilessly executing each soldier until only In-ho remained. The way each victims face warped- changing into old allies. His wife. His brother… But no. Better not to think of that anymore.
His thoughts move to Gi-hun again; the man he was here for. His eyes- those trusting eyes- were a lot warmer in person; he regrets not being able to see them through the blindfold after he won the games. He supposed his eyes would not hold the same warmth they do now, looking at “Young-il” rather than the man who had indisputably ruined his life. A selfish part of him wishes things could stay this way- that they could be cherished comrades and allies without all the messy consequences. If only.
This insatiable feeling… In-ho doubts he will ever be truly satisfied with Seong Gi-hun. Everything he says, every recording In-ho has pored over, every defiant glance into the camera - it’s not enough. Even being here with him in person opens a chasm of longing- sexual, violent, and painfully vulnerable at once. The rage, too, has no end- why was Seong Gi-hun, a gambling addict from Ssangmun-dong able to retain his humanity when In-ho himself could not? Envy, rage, longing and lust, all coalescing together in the pit of In-ho’s stomach.
If In-ho needed anything, it was to be understood- to be seen by someone who knew him and knew what he had been through. Someone who had been through the same things themselves. Gi-hun was that person, he could see it. He just needed some more time, he needed to push more boundaries, nudge the clueless man’s ideology until they were one and the same. He needed to look inside Gi-hun and find what about him made him so steadfastly “good” where all others lost hope. In-ho knew his desires wouldn’t be satisfied until they were two halves come together, blending at the seams. Two sides of the same coin, two of a kind. Gi-hun would come to see it this way too... he had to hope.
Jealousy flares in his stomach when he thinks about the conversation he overheard earlier that night, two old friends reminiscing about old times. "Once we get out of here, you owe me soju." In-ho clenches his jaw again, seething. It was stupid, childish to loathe another player like this- one order to the soldiers, one slip up during the games and he could kill this man, this Jung-bae... Gi-hun would have nobody left but him...
Yes, stating it like that calms him, almost like setting a goal- ”he will be mine.”
He turns over on the thin mattress, ready to fall back to sleep until his watch- until he hears a familiar sound, someone crying in their sleep from a bunk nearby.
Gi-hun? Yes, it sounded like him. His heart rate picks up, pounding in his ears as he sits, waiting.
A sudden pang- a need for reassurance. This was his chance, an opportunity to build trust. He had prepared a guard's break room on the off chance he needed somewhere to hide in the nightly bloodbath. But perhaps the other man would need a respite from his nightmare as In-ho needed respite from his own thoughts…
Yes, that would be ideal. A quiet place for them both to get acquainted. And who knows... if something else were to happen, In-ho would be ready.