Work Text:
He came here every Wednesday.
At first, it had been a vague agreement between respective care workers and volunteers, and the municipal administration of Munju - community work to build his resume for the important retraining program that would help him getting a foothold on a new career that is paid enough to make a living. He, who had just been released from one year in prison, was merely looking to find a new purpose in life.
A life he could’ve ended at any time if he wanted. Unable to stop the destructive thoughts, he considered it too many times. Replayed in his head what would happen if he just…vanished. After all - so he thought - what was left for him after he had based his entire life on bringing justice to his sister?
For a while there was nothing to hold on anymore, nothing worth to continue living for.
Weeks turned into months and he was still alive. And somewhere along the way, between job applications and plans to put his family house on sale, he ended up in the afternoon community work which became the weekly activity he looked forward to most during the week; work that made him feel like he was still part of something good and useful within South Korea’s harsh societal system.
Two years on probation.
That’s what he got left with in the afterglow of serving a full year of jail time ‘for tampering with a crime scene’ and he happily accepted his punishment with an iron patience, with the lovely memory of Minjung and a surprisingly positive attitude - non-regretful, ready to do everything the same way if he could catch monsters. No badge however - he would never wear one ever again. Instead, he was kept on a thin, invisible leash by the Korean judiciary that stretched across his every move; regular check-ins, monthly evaluations, community service logged and signed in black ink, all the kind of bureaucratic purgatory that reminded him, again and again, that the past and the consequences of his committed crimes didn’t let go easily; not in privacy and certainly not in a country that ran on twisted hierarchy.
Lee Dongsik had never been particularly good with ranks. Interacting with higher, first class and elite people, playing along that hierarchy felt like a chore. Back when he was a cop, and now as an ex-con under the fluorescent lights of steadily watching government buildings; bowing to men in expensive, uptight suits much younger than him, listening to scoldings and declining remarks, passive-aggressive, silent mockery in its politest form. He had to sit through mandatory retraining seminars led by people who hadn’t touched a single crime scene in their lives, who would brush off mental health problems, loss and trauma as something trivial, some nuisance,...some excuse to be lazy - people who found fun in humiliating their clients. Dongsik just smiled when they asked him to reflect on his ‘moral rehabilitation’ which made him flip these people off in his thoughts as he continued to fill out surveys about civic engagement, like he was a teenager who had been caught shoplifting instead of someone who had fought like a dying animal to bring justice to their beloveds - friends and family precisely - that got murdered in cold blood.
Still - he did it, all of it, succumbing to the wicked system because he had no other choice and suicide didn’t seem like an option anymore when he there was hope to find something to live for again. This bureaucratic torture was his ticket to a new journey past lingering regret and grief, to finally shake off the shadows clinging to him.
Because at the end of the day, Dongsik didn’t give a damn about redemption on paper. He didn’t seek forgiveness - he had never once asked for that. All he needed was something that made use of what was left of him; reintegrating a criminal wreck into society.
When the opportunity came to assist with youth programs in Munju, he embraced the chance without hesitation. The job wasn’t financially glamorous. Just part-time community work, barely enough to pay gas and electricity bills, cheap food, medication and insurance, while he waited for his social worker certification training to start. An occupation that gave him something his old job never had: kids who didn’t care the slightest about social status, rank, scars, rumors and reputation. Kids who just showed up, innocent, happy to see him when he was there, happy to listen, to sing and play.
In the weekly afternoon, Dongsik ended up at the music club of a small kids’ center tucked behind a discount supermarket and a row of shabby low class apartment blocks; the kind of place filled with laughter, paper planes and crayons and when the overworked staff was gone, it would reek of unhealthy instant noodles. The few broken windows and some of the older drums in the music room were held together with duct tape. A poorly managed environment, overseen by the city council, but the kids were brilliant. Loud, curious, half-feral at times - but a chaotic intelligence mirroring in their innocent eyes. They clung to Dongsik like stray cats, calling him samcheon which sounded more than accurate considering his age.
They made him laugh, made his heart ache at the same time. Some of the children came in bruised, quiet, jumpy. Others had no idea how to sit still for longer than two minutes. But they all changed a little when music was involved. Even the toughest ones softened when Dongsik strummed his guitar, half in tune, and started to sing some cheesy Korean 80s ballad he barely remembered.
They didn’t know who he was, who he had been in the past, what he did or where he came from. Only who he was now. And that was all that mattered.
"Samcheon! Your guitar sounds like a dying cow!”, the seven year old Minseok yelled, cackling like a little goblin from behind a drum set he had absolutely no business being near, hitting a cymbal just to prove his point that Dongsik’s guitar was definitely out of tune again.
“Aish…which of you rascals had your fingers on my guitar again, hm? I’m gonna find the culprit, there is no point in hiding.”
The room was absolute chaos, the good kind however. Crayons and pencils rolled off cheap plastic tables, paper cups dropped to the floor as the group of kids jumped off their chairs when the music session slowly came to an end.
Dongsik looked around while sitting on a floor mat as if he was searching for something. Someone had stolen his guitar pick - again - and Eunbi, a small girl with a passion for fairytales, who had just turned 6 last month, was trying to braid pink ribbons into his dark hair from behind while he tried to gather the children’s attention for their last song.
“Omo!” Haeun, the girl always lingering closest to the windows for some odd reason, had been messing with the curtain string when her eyes caught movement outside.
A large, pitch-black, gleaming curve of an SUV pulled into the tiny gravel lot, clean, polished, wildly out of place, a bold, towering presence among the tiny, colorful bicycles and scooters parked nearby. Dongsik didn’t even need to look as he heard the low, familiar growl of the Chevrolet's engine. His heart and instincts recognized it before his brain did, hand suddenly stilled on the guitar strings.
A kid bumped into him, asking for help with a chord, but he barely registered it.
It was him.
Han Juwon.
Dongsik blinked once, twice. What was he doing here? He hadn’t called, hadn’t said a word in literal weeks and Seoul was an hour and a half away, and there had been no reason to think of why he would show up. No message, no birthday, no death anniversary that would give him a reason to visit this sleepy old town, so boring that time almost seemed to halt.
He felt it in his chest - like a thud against his ribs, not painful but sudden and disorienting. Not unlike the time one of the kids had accidentally stabbed him in the gut with a flute...
He cleared his throat with a cough, trying to mask his nervosity and excitement by gathering the kids around him on a circle of floor cushions. “Aight, last song for today before y'all get home. Eunbi, you’re the bunny leader, right?”
His voice was distant. Outside, the engine shut off.
“No!”, Eunbi replied with a shy smile, wiggling her tiny hands, pointing at Dongsik and his pink ribbons in hair. “You are, samcheon!”
“Fine…get ready then…one, two, three…” Dongsik knew without needing to turn his head that Han Juwon was about to walk through exactly that door. He had to refocus, resist the distraction.
Han Juwon is…here?
His bare fingers slid over the strings of the guitar, playing the first chords, his clear voice joining soon after. Tori, Eunbi’s rabbit plushie, was sitting at his feet.
“Santoki, santoki, tora saneneun, gireun jal doeneun~♪”
High-pitched voices joined him, off-tempo but wonderfully enthusiastic. Santoki, the mountain rabbit song, a famous Korean kids’ classic. It had been Eunbi’s request this week - her current obsession was anything rabbit-related and the others had gone along just to see if Dongsik would sing the ‘hop hop’ part with the little hand motions.
He did, of course. Because he was weak, and they knew it.
“Sanseo~ baram naerimyeon keudaljibeuro~”
The group of kids sang through the verses several times, some with real effort, others mostly yelling. The room echoed with noise, tambourines jangling wildly out of sync. With the tenth pick missing - he stopped counting at 5 - Dongsik's fingers ached a little on the strings, but it didn’t matter, as this was the kind of pain he actually liked, that reminded him of brighter, happier days from his own youth.
Hop hop!
With the last note fading Dongsik lifted his hands from the guitar strings to mimic the rabbit ears with his hands, the kids joining him with glee before he put the instrument aside. They all stood up, ready to walk home; some to the protectory, some to reunite with their families living nearby.
“Alright, band of musical delinquents.”, he said, pulling a dramatic teacher's voice, looking around the group of children. “...before you escape - what did we learn today?”
“Minseok can’t keep rhythm!”
“Eunbi has bunny fever?”
“That the guitar sounds like a cow!”
Dongsik shook his head, lips bending into a smug smile while he stood in the middle of it all, arms crossed. And outside, through the opened window glass, Juwon listened and watched.
“Wrong, wrong, all wrong.”
He pointed to the whiteboard behind him and scrawled in blocky Hangul:
용기는 크기와 상관없다.
“Courage doesn’t depend on size.”
Dongsik turned back to the pairs of attentive eyes on him, slinging the guitar over his shoulder.
“That’s what we learned from the mountain rabbit, right? Even a little one can keep going. Even if it’s scary. Even if they trip. Never forget that.”
Little Eunbi stared at the words like she had gotten a holy revelation, quietly mouthing them. Minseok raised his hand like he was in school but yelled anyway before Dongsik gave him permission to speak.
“So, we’re gettin’ spaghetti next week?”
Dongsik gave him a playfully suspicious look and shook his head “You were this close, Minseok-ie, but no. Change of plans. I’ll take you out for omurice, because you were more attentive today than usual.”, he said, grinning when their heads shot up. “If - and only if - you clean up this war zone like proper little humans. Instruments in cases, trash in bins, tables wiped off, ribbon collection off my head.”
“OMURICE!!”
Shrieks of excitement erupted and a competition broke out over who could clean up the tables quicker and more meticulously.
Juwon didn’t come inside right away. He stood just past the glass doors, half in shadow, half in sunlight, hands tucked into the pockets of his black coat like always, pretending to be distant, pretending to be too cool to do something else with them. His face presented an unmoving, unsettled expression he always wore when he wasn’t sure if he was welcome in foreign space. His eyes though, never stopped moving as they took in everything they caught: the dented lockers in the hallway, the scuffed floors, the small, colorful paper crafts on the windows, the soundproofing foam peeling off the corners of the music room walls. And past all of it – him. Lee Dongsik.
Dongsik didn’t let himself look back right away. He was busy helping to pack up the last remaining instruments and sheet music collections into their respective closets.
“Aish, stop tossing the maracas around, those are percussion instruments, not juggling clubs!”
“They’re weapons now!”, Minseok shouted, brandishing the rattles like swords. Dongsik caught one of them mid-air to put them back into a box.
“Cool, but you better not make me your practice dummy. Now, stop this nonsense.”
Childlaughter erupted around him, as he let the fun carry him for another few minutes, knowing Juwon was probably waiting outside in the hallway all impatient and - as a policeman - on a very close timetable. Even as the lighthearted session wound down and the kids began scattering to collect their bags, Dongsik stayed prospering on his feet, his voice steady, helping a boy re-tie his shoelaces.
But the whole time, he could feel Juwon’s gaze on him.
He was good at hiding nerves, had practiced it for years as a traumatized cop - but there was a faint pull in his chest now, a yearning, like he was waiting for Juwon to approach.
The last few scraps of paper were stuffed into the bin, chairs and tables half-straightened, seat cushions collected into a pile, instruments stacked precariously in the storage closet ready to be used in the next cozy afternoon music session.
The kids giggled, flushed and proud of the clean room, but their attention had already shifted.
One by one, they started sneaking glances down the hallway - at the tall, unknown man who hadn’t moved much at all. The man who stood there so straight, so still, like he was part of the building itself. His black hair and sharp eyes, his neat shirt collar, the thin black coat, the serious line of his mouth; he matched his creepy vehicle quite well in the aesthetic.
Han Juwon.
“Who is that?” Minseok elbowed Haeun, whispering a bit too loudly for Dongsik to hear. "Is he a movie star?"
"No way. He’s too grumpy looking. And too pale."
“Maybe he’s a vampire.”
“Vampires don’t exist, dummy.”
“Have you seen the huge car? He must have a biiig family!”
"Maybe he is a cop and here to arrest samcheon??", the little Yejun whispered as if he was sharing an excited secret, eyes wide behind his red-rimmed glasses, half-joking.
“Silly Yejun! Cops wear uniforms. Every baby knows that!”, Minseok lectured him with a pointed finger.
"Or maybe he’s samcheon’s boyfriend!", Eunbi squeaked shyly, bursting into giggles and hiding her pinkish face in the rabbit plushie - Tori - that she still carried with her.
At that, Dongsik let out a snort of laughter he couldn’t quite swallow. These brats. He sometimes hated how these kids were incredibly susceptible, as if they had a seven sense; there was a reason why he loved them so much and preferred to work with this group. He caught Juwon's face for half a second, expecting him to look like he wanted to disappear from embarrassment but instead he just…smiled. Small, almost invisible, but it was there.
"Alright, alright, enough gossip, you little punks." Dongsik waved the kids toward the door. "Go home before the gossip grows arms and legs."
They obeyed, more or less - grabbing backpacks and bicycle helmets, swinging jackets over their shoulders, bustling into the hallway in a pack of noisy footsteps and bright chatter. One after another, the children left the music room, passing the unknown visitor with their curious glances, unsure if they should or should not approach him.
Still, as they passed Juwon, each one craned their neck to stare. A few offered just small, shy bows. Minseok, brave as always, gave him a nod like a tiny, grumpy old man with a serious expression and mumbled a ‘Annyeonghaseyo, ajeossi’ before bolting down the hallway with an cheeky laugh as if he had gotten caught pranking someone.
Eunbi paused just long enough to tug on Haeun’s sleeve, whispering, "He’s pretty. Like a sad prince from a fairy tale looking for his lost princess. Do you think he likes rabbits?"
"How should I know? Go and ask him."
And then they were gone - spilling out into the parking lot, scattering onto bikes, some still waiting for their parents to get picked up, leaving the building echoing and strangely hollow behind them. With the last windows closed, Dongsik turned to leave the now quiet music room, eyes landing on Juwon for the first time, not wanting to make him wait any longer than necessary.
God, he looked-
Elegant, as always. Pretty.
A neatly pressed white collar shirt and black pants under a thin, grey trench coat, the familiar cologne, in his own tasteful way, as if he had planned to attend an important meeting at first but his unstyled hair, his comfortable chunky sneakers and his tired eyes told Dongsik he probably came here off duty. Same sharp, unreadable face he wore at work, softened only slightly by the curve of golden afternoon sunlight catching his cheek. His shoulders were taut, his fingers twitched faintly inside his pockets and Dongsik could’ve sworn Juwon had lost weight - face and body.
I hope you are eating enough, Juwon-ah…
“...You planning to just lurk there all day?”, Dongsik asked, voice rougher than he meant it to be as Juwon bowed slightly towards him out of habit.
“You looked busy, I didn’t…want to disturb.”
Keys in hand, messenger bag shouldered, Dongsik stepped out into the hallway, letting the door swing closed behind him, then locking it tightly before he turned to his unexpected visitor.
Immediately, their eyes locked.
They stood there. Two grown men facing each other in the empty corridor of a crumbling youth center, pretending they didn’t horribly miss each other.
After what felt like literal minutes of staring, yearning, missing, Dongsik shoved his hands into his jeans pockets, rocking back on his heels and his eyes caught a glimpse of the suspicious white food bag Juwon was holding in his left hand.
“Congratulations, Inspector Han. You just survived your first ambush by elementary schoolers.”
Relieved Dongsik broke the silence, Juwon couldn’t help but finally bring up the shadow of a smile when he inspected him from a closer distance - pink ribbons and other glittery hair clips and pins still hanging loose in his messy, black locks.
Cute.
“I’ve been through riot control drills less intense than that.”
Rubbing the back of his neck, Dongsik got suddenly aware of the sweaty stains on his grey shirt collar - the sweat of hard work and strained nerves - and with an annoyed grunt he picked out the genuine amount of Eunbi’s hair accessories; the friendly reminders that it had been a rough day.
“Didn’t think I’d see you in Munju again so soon.”
“I was…nearby.”, Juwon replied.
Nearby, huh?
“I see. Hope you came with a free minute. Weather’s nice today.”, Dongsik casually said, like it didn’t matter much when it actually meant the world to him that Juwon showed up so out of nowhere; like his chest wasn’t tightening just a little in fearful anticipation of Juwon glancing at his expensive watch, murmuring something polite about needing to leave soon because detective work was calling. And Seoul wasn’t just around the corner, his life as a policeman was up there in the metropolis, not in this sleepy rural town where the playground paint peeled and the greasy vending machine buttons stuck because the cities’ budget couldn’t afford or didn’t want to maintain them.
But Juwon’s clear answer did surprise him and he made no effort to hide the relief on his face.
“I am free tonight.”
With a small, almost imperceptible tilt of his head, Juwon just nodded. Today he came here with time - for the precious man who had barged into his life and ruined it.
The sun hung low, casting long, lazy shadows across the cracked pavement and the small playground just next to the lot. Two swings were squeaking in the warm spring breeze, partnered up with a wooden jungle gym and a red plastic slide that almost looked about a hundred years old.
Their reunion should have been more easy, familiar even. But instead, the unwanted distance between them felt more stretched than ever, air weighted with all the things neither of them had dared to say for months now after Dongsik’s release; phone text messages half-typed, then deleted, calls planned but never made. Ghosts of conversations that could have filled the sappiest romance novels if either of them had had the damn nerve to…actually say something, to make a proper move.
Dongsik pointed toward the bench tucked under a lone Gingko tree at the edge of the lot. It wasn’t particularly cozy, a bit of rust, a patch of sun-warmed concrete underfoot plastered with weeds.
They sat down - not too close, but not far enough to feel like strangers either. The crinkling, white bag now rested on Juwon’s lap. Dongsik’s curious gaze lingered on his partner, who still looked exhausted - in a way that made Dongsik want to reach out and touch him, just to be sure he was real; to see if the still hollow space inside him would ease if he could feel that Juwon was here, really here sitting with him on a rusty old playground bench, and not just a dream stitched together by missing someone too much for too long.
“So…”
They both said it at the same time, perfectly synched, looking at each other with rising curiosity. Juwon’s eyes hung on Dongsik’s lips for a few seconds. There was so much to ask, so much to say, yet nothing would come out when the moment asked for them to open up.
Dongsik huffed a quiet laugh at the awkward timing while Juwon quickly focused on the bag resting on his lap.
“You gonna explain yourself, Inspector? Showing up in newfound family territory? Looking for suspects?”
One of those strange jabs Juwon had missed but he didn’t answer right away. He just watched the few kids on the sidewalk waiting for their parents to pick them up; a few other kids played over by the wooden tower.
“I just…”
His response came quietly and so soft, Dongsik almost overheard it.
"...wanted to see you."
No, I…missed you. I…
“I mean…to see how you’re doing.”
Dongsik looked down at his left leg, which he had lazily stretched out along the weed-infested concrete floor. The words burned, warm and sweet pooling in his chest, and he silently repeated them several times in his head to make them sound even more real, to make sure they weren’t just his imagination.
“That’s…nice to hear.”, he nodded with a genuine smile.
What Juwon said were honest, soft words, a comforting, passive gratitude between the screeching noises of the children frolicking around in the background. Dongsik could hardly hide the faint blush creeping up his cheeks. Juwon could be almost too honest and it touched him deeply.
“Well…how am I doing?”, Dongsik repeated as if he had to think about how to answer and he was looking into the distance, his hair blown into messy strands by a warm wind.
“Getting up in the morning on a buffering schedule, no shift work…well, no corpses so far.”
Juwon looked at him from the side, unamused by Dongsik pulling a dry, sarcastic joke. They stared out at the playground, at the green plastic slides gone dull by countless hours of sun exposure, the rusted merry-go-round spinning lazily where a kid had given it one last push before biking off. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked, a lawn mower was running, a child’s laugh echoed.
The warmth of Juwon’s presence lured him in, that familiar gravitational pull he had trained himself to ignore for a long time for the sake of his own sanity, for the sake of emotional peace.
Dongsik hadn’t expected at all that Juwon would return one day just to see him in the middle of the week. It meant the world to him that Juwon was still waiting, still at his side, ready to walk forward with him.
Juwon kept quiet in that tense way that Dongsik recognized when the princeling was thinking too much. Always overthinking too much in his little head. Probably cataloguing everything about this place right now: the chipped cement, the limp basketball net, the way Dongsik hadn’t bothered to shaved that morning.
Or maybe…maybe he wasn’t thinking anything at all. Maybe he was just trying not to bolt, not to invade and cross a line he had set up for himself.
“Here. This…is for you.”
Juwon’s voice was quiet, as he finally reached for the bag to hand it over to Dongsik. He took the bag with slow hands, then peeked inside, pulling out a white, elegant carton box with a clear plastic display on the top, sealed by a rose-colored band around the edges and a plain sticker in Latin letters on the frontside that read:
BRICKSAND SEOUL confectionary🍰
The scent hit him immediately: warm, crunchy walnut, sweet red bean with a hint of vanilla butter…connected to a delicate, dormant childhood memory - the kind of sugary comfort that made you just plain happy if you hadn’t had it in a while.
"Hodugwaja?", he asked curiously, although the answer was already clear when he saw the many small, round cakes, each single piece one by one boxed in cells and wrapped up neatly in fragile thermo paper to keep them warm as long as possible.
“You drove all the way here to bring me my favourite cakes?” Dongsik let out a soft laugh through his nose, without a doubt touched by the box in his hands.
“I…”, Juwon started, unable to explain himself properly because words didn’t come easy and he just looked away, like it was explanation enough when it obviously was not.
Sensing the unease, the subtle shyness, how Juwon was nervously fidgeting with the button of his trenchcoat, Dongsik smiled at him from the side.
“You know, I’m usually the one feeding you.”
“Yeah…” Not today, though.
“Not bringing up the Busan fugu soup at all because I know your stomach still wants to forget that one.”
“Not just my stomach…” Juwon gave a long-suffering sigh at the memory of the cooked fugu fish head swimming in his soup bowl when they were eating out together and investigating in Busan a long time ago. “Don’t remind me…”
“Yah, too bad, I think I just did.”, Dongsik teased before pulling out one of the cakes to unwrap it. “You want one? They are still a bit warm.”
Dongsik broke the hodugwaja into two separate shells, handed over the bigger half of the pastry without comment, letting the fragrant piece of dough rest in Juwon’s palm. Their fingers brushed briefly, but neither of them pulled away.
“If you’d texted me earlier, I would have made us some coffee.”
“That might have ruined...the surprise.”
With the trace of a smile, Juwon took a small bite, chewing carefully, eyes flicking down. Dongsik watched the way his lips moved, the subtle crease of his brow when he enjoyed something but refused to say it out loud. A stubborn little quirk.
One of many.
Dongsik bit into his half, the sweetness blooming across his tongue - so familiar, nostalgic, all tangled up with unfiltered memories of happier days. Memories of his childhood and beloved sister.
“I’ve finally got to attend retraining classes in Suwon, twice a week.”, he began, voice softer now as he looked down at the half-eaten pastry in his hand. “Social work certification program. Government-run, so it’s mostly studying in my home office. But...it’s alright. I seem to be quite lucky, they kindly said I’m, let me quote, ‘not a hopeless case’, so they are looking forward to giving me a solid chance.”
Juwon side-eyed Dongsik with a playful glint in his expression. “Who would’ve thought…I’m sure you charmed your way through already.”
“Well, not really. No one yells at me like a fishwife but,...aish…the checkups are something. One of those uptight suits just asked me how I’m ‘coping with reintegration’, like I’m some busted appliance.”
Juwon looked at the last bite of cake in his hand, voice calm and deliberate. “You are.”
He didn’t rush to comfort Dongsik, that wasn’t how he worked.
Dongsik raised an eyebrow, half amused, half hurt. “Thanks for the kind confirmation, Inspector Han.”, he shot him some sarcasm.
Juwon looked up. “I meant…to them, to your supervisors, by law. By record. You’re a convicted ex-cop with a criminal past, basically dehumanized and they won’t admit it. They only know that and they don’t care about anything else.”
Dongsik stilled, because Juwon was absolutely right and he knew this, expected a treatment like that.
Lee Dongsik-ssi…you’ve always been a broken mess, Juwon almost added.
That’s why I noticed you.
That’s why I was interested in you and your past before I even transferred to Manyang. I came here to hunt you down, to take out the trash of society, all in the name of my father and my twisted sense of justice, yet I stayed for the broken, unfixable man that you truly are.
Juwon didn’t elaborate, didn’t explain or worded the honest thought that followed - the one that curled up sharp and warm in his heart like the taste of the walnut cake on his tongue.
No, no. It was way too messed up to say it.
Dongsik licked a crumb from his thumb, then glanced sideways. “If I pass, I can start placement sometime in about six months.” He ran his fingers through his hair, disheveling it further. “Until then…kids on Wednesday, on Saturdays I help Jaeyi out for some free food, Munju market on Thursday. Nothing big, just hauling boxes, helping halmeonis carry heavy bags that kinda kill my back, stuff like that. Good way to see and connect to people again who just won’t fingerpoint you.”
Juwon brushed a crumb off his pants. “If you ask me, you don’t need to prove anything to anyone.”
“I’m not trying to prove anything, Juwon-ah.”, Dongsik sighed, then looked out at the sky as he leaned back against the bench. “Well, perhaps only for myself at this point. I just…don’t want to end up being a useless pile of human garbage after dedicating my whole life to find my sister and-”
Juwon turned his head to look at Dongsik; to watch his goldenbrown eyes glimmering in the slowly setting sunlight that filtered through the leaves above, dappling his beautiful face with soft bokeh.
He was stunning.
“Anyway. That’s my current life. Less exciting and exhausting than it had been for over 20 years but, I guess, I can’t complain. The kids are keeping me on my toes, though…”
“The kids seem to be fond of you from what I have seen.”, Juwon quickly replied in all honesty and snatched another walnut cake from the box with no hesitation this time.
“So…what’s life like these days in Seoul? Still going after teenage runaways?”, Dongsik asked, a Ginkgo leaf fluttered down on his leg shaped like a little hand fan.
Juwon didn’t answer right away. Dongsik wasn’t just simply asking about his life in Seoul. He knew what life in Seoul was like as someone who had lived and worked there for quite some time. In fact he was trying to examine his personal well-being, asking if Juwon was okay, if his current life was somehow manageable. Questions like these still blew him away- considering they were genuine and not just asked out of courtesy. And Dongsik never asked out of politeness or because it seemed to be the default part of a superficial conversation. Knowing from experience, people never really cared if Juwon was fine even if they dropped the question.
But Dongsik cared. And Juwon never took it for granted that someone truly expressed concern.
Keeping his stiff gaze fixed ahead, there, on the empty playground where the swings rocked gently in the wind, Juwon retained his words carefully neutral, as if showing too much emotion might ruin their reunion.
“As you know, I’m still with the Women and Juvenile Affairs Division. Same team, full of chatterboxes. Currently I'm mostly reviewing old case files now, those…that seemed to be forgotten, obliterated by time. Some field work, still. Need to get out and-...”
He paused.
“...get your shoes dirty?” Dongsik threw a crooked smile at him, unable to stop the unforgettable picture flood of Juwon’s soiled luxury loafers dragged fresh out of the muddy reedfield.
“Something like that.”, Juwon smiled, his eyes fixated on his own (clean) sneakers for a second.
“Sounds like a dream. You, in a busy office analysing cold case files, surrounded by nosy coworkers who talk too much for your brain to tolerate.”
“It’s…fine. It’s work after all and…I do it for people in need, for those who rely on the police force…or stopped trusting in them because their cases never got the attention they deserved and instead were just abandoned only to disappear out of the public eye.”
That’s my noble, pretty flower…
Watching him out of the corner of his eye, Dongsik let the quietness hang again between them, waiting for the actual response that might or might not come. Juwon shifted his hands in his lap, with the faintest trace of discomfort showing through his fingers that curled in on themselves every time he wanted to say more but couldn't bring himself to express his feelings.
You don’t have to tell me, Juwon-ah, but I’ll stay here if you do. And I will listen…
Not wanting to strain the precious moment, Juwon decided not to say anything about the crestfallen truth of it - that without his father’s financial influence, the money had stopped flowing almost overnight back then. That the luxury apartment he, fortunately, owned in Gangnam was now just a high-rise room with no view, stripped down to necessities; that lawyers and reporters came knocking now, not to flatter, but to ask intruding questions. Every name, every connection tied to Han Kihwan needed to be cleansed thoroughly. His legacy was treated like old, blood-stained wallpaper clinging to South Korea’s police history, being peeled off in an urgence and it was among the hardest to scrape off.
And a part of these blood-stained, pesistent layers clung to his son like a disease.
Juwon didn’t say how humiliating it had been for him to face the shame and silent mockery from people who were close to his father and now let their frustration out on his child. How Juwon could barely contain his own anger and sadness, how he got weak, how the curse of his father made him keep drinking evening after evening, until he passed out on his couch and the alarm clock of his phone woke him up for detective work the next morning - how freeing this own family destruction felt nonetheless, in strange, terrifying ways he wasn’t prepared for.
The way he kept himself isolated in the shadows of unbearable shame that surrounded his downfall - he didn’t mention any of it.
And Dongsik didn’t push. He just reached back into the paper bag without further comment, pulled out another hodugwaja, and pressed it gently into Juwon’s hand.
“Eat up, Juwon-ah.”, he said, voice low but warm, dragging a smile. “Before it gets cold.”
Thumb brushing lightly over the soft outer shell, Juwon looked down at the pastry in his hand, then blinked in playful offense at Dongsik, desperate to change the topic.
“So…about sharing food. Do you do this with all your work-related ex-partners or just the ones who ruin their lives and show up uninvited?”
“Tch. You’re not that special. I give snacks to strays all the time.”, Dongsik smirked in sharp sarcasm, fondness threaded through the words however despite their mocking undertone.
Juwon didn’t say thank you. He didn’t have to. He just took a bite, because acknowledging that he was important, that he mattered, that he was special to Dongsik, was more than enough.
“Aish, I might fall into a food coma when I eat the whole box. I warn you, these things put me out like anesthetics, even faster than an evening in a soju bar.”
“I can live with that. You can take a nap on the bench right after.”
And put your head on my lap…
“Only if I can put my head against your shoulder.”
–not supposed to be serious.
Cake between his fingers, Juwon cleared his throat to remove a nasty cake crumb and he couldn’t help but smile as he looked away, concealing a blush, shifting his crossed legs into a more comfortable position. A small part of him imagined, no, hoped, Dongsik would indeed fall asleep on his shoulder or lap after eating the entire box of hodugwaja - and then serve as his personal pillow.
He would let him. Only him.
“Deal.”, Juwon declared.
Perplexed, Dongsik huffed a quiet laugh, suddenly smiling himself into the other direction like a shy school boy, unsure if Juwon was serious or not.
“Deal? Don’t say that. You’ll give me ideas, inspector.”
Is this a flirt?
They sat in awkward silence, shoulder to shoulder now, warmed by sun and long awaited proximity. The paper bag rustled faintly between them, half-forgotten on the bench. Dongsik had almost eaten his fair share of the hodugwaja - too quickly, honestly, and without fresh coffee to soak them up in his throat - but Juwon was still working through his second, taking small, deliberate bites like it gave him a reason to stay quiet.
And Dongsik continued watching him.
Not obviously staring. But something about the curve of Juwon’s fingers against the pastry, the way his mouth moved, soft and parted, his full lower lip stained slightly with red bean filling. It looked-
Distracting.
No, more than that. It was inviting, mesmerizing.
Then Juwon tilted his head up - and caught his admiring gaze.
Here, on this chipped old bench, time seem to bent, to slow down in this exact moment when Juwon stared back, swallowing the last piece of walnut dough, still unaware of the small sweet adzuki stain sticking on his lip.
Dongsik’s mouth curved into a faint smile under the late afternoon sun, quietly adoring Juwon’s strong presence and the honesty glimmering in his eyes that was no longer overshadowed by a faksimile of himself.
For one long, breathless second, neither of them looked away, bathing in the yearning for something they couldn’t quite define yet. Something that brought them together once again after such a long time. The comforting breeze surrounding them carried the scent of grass, pavement, bakened sugar and...
It was Juwon who leaned in first. Slow and cautious, not daring too much, more on instinct, guided by the path his heart paved out for him instead of being blocked by the brain; he went all in, far enough to close the crackling air between them.
Drawn by this irresistible gravity, Dongsik moved towards him, lashes fluttering in the golden patches of light on his cheeks as he lowered his eyes, lips trembling with desire, with anticipation, with unquenchable longing all at once. He could feel Juwon's sweet breath on his own lips, the familiar cologne, the radiating warmth alluring all of his senses.
"Yah, samcheon! Are you sharing those or just eating them in secret with your boyfriend?!"
Minseok’s pitched voice crashed through the quiet like a missile through the air, causing Dongsik to jerk back half a breath. Juwon stiffened, the cake in his hand almost slipping out of his hand and he stared at the group of children in the distance like someone had yanked the ground out from underneath him.
The pack of three loud kids from earlier approached at full speed – the self-confident Minseok, Eunbi and her bunny plushie, and Haeun with sand patches on her knees and a red bike helmet swinging from her backpack. Stopping in front of the bench, all three gawked over like curious cats, wide eyes, posing in front of the two adult men with righteous indignation.
“Were you gonna KISS him??”, Minseok shrieked gleefully, pointing an accusatory finger at them like a dedicated lawyer at trial. “I saw it, samcheon! You were gonna kiss Mister Mystery!”
“I told you they were in love…”, Eunbi whispered dramatically, trailing after him, clutching her rabbit plushie to her chest. “I told you, Haeun-ie. They were making googly eyes all the time.”
Haeun leaned in with her flute case slung over her shoulder, always coming off a little bit know-it-all when she talked. “I didn’t say they weren’t…I said they just needed more alone time.”
What the- oh god.
If a stone statue could die of embarrassment, it would look like Han Juwon who just sat there, staring at the small group of rascals. Dongsik, for his part, was trying to play it cool, but his ears pulsed the same embarrassed, rhythmic beat as he covered his face with one sweaty hand.
“You little punks, don’t you have homes? Bedtimes? Somewhere to be that isn’t here?"
“Ohhh, you wanna get rid off us? Cool. Not until you share the cakes, tho.”, Minseok demanded proudly, plopping down on the other end of the bench like he owned it right next to his samcheon, clearly having fun disturbing precious moments of reunion…or spontaneous, romantic walnut cake dates, in that case. “That’s the price for emotional damage.”
“Cheeky brat. Have you turned into little blackmailers now?”, Dongsik asked with a smirk.
“Hodugwaja…yummy...”, Eunbi mouthed to herself as if she had just seen another sacred revelation, always holding Tori the rabbit against her chest. Minseok held up another accusatory finger, this time solemnly pointed at Juwon and he squinted at him like he was sizing up an alien disguised in a business-casual trench coat.
“Also who’s this guy??”
Clearly unamused by the blatant disrespect towards Juwon, Dongsik frowned at the pesky boy and gently slapped his wiggling finger down.
"’This guy’ has a name, y'know.”
Juwon cleared his throat, recovering fast, but not fast enough to stop the reddish shine creeping up his neck. He sat awkwardly to the side, widening the distance between himself and Dongsik, before he gave the kids a small, polite bow, his voice was clipped but formal.
“Han Juwon.”
The kids looked unimpressed, somehow intimidated at the quick and effortless answer, yet all three couldn’t help but giggle at the funny stain of bean filling sticking to Juwon’s lips. Of course nobody thought about telling him - not even Dongsik.
"Han Juwon-ssi?"
"Never heard of him."
"Can we have one? Please??"
Dongsik just grumbled, grabbed the bag, and held it open.
“Fine. One each. You crashers better eat and scram before I make you mop the toilets.”
Whooping with glee, the three kids took their precious pastries and immediately bickered over which one had the most filling. Dongsik leaned back against the bench, side-eyeing Juwon with a crooked smile.
See, Inspector? This is what happens when you feed human stray cats…
“Are you a CEO?”, Minseok tilted his head to express his curiosity with a mouth full of cake that stifled his usual blaring voice.
“He looks like a prince, like he’s about to scold us…with anko on his face.”, Eunbi whispered into the boy’s ear, swinging on her heels back and forth, Tori still pressed tightly into her little arms as if she wanted to suffocate the plushie from excitement.
Minseok snorted and whispered back: “Well, he looks like he definitely doesn’t know how to eat properly.”
“But he is samcheon’s boyfriend, maybe he is just as nice as him.”, Haeun murmured into their oh-so-secretive conversation.
“Seriously, you punks wanna stand here all day profiling people or maybe go home before your parents call the police on me?”, Dongsik complained in annoyance and amusement at the same time, although he was really slowly losing his patience. “Because one cop is sitting right here and he will make sure you get home without protest.”
He nodded towards Juwon. Three little confused faces lit up when they heard the word 'cop'.
“Ehh?”
"Are you a cop?!"
“I work as a police detective in Seoul.”, Juwon allowed himself a bit of fun by causing a beat of stunned silence for a few seconds.
“He-he’s really a policeman?!”, Eunbi shrieked first and made a dramatic jump backwards, grabbing her rabbit plush to hold it in front of herself like it was a human shield.
“Aiyoo! We’re gonna die!”
In a playful panic attack, Minseok flung his hands in the air like he was being raided in a cartoon, yelling like a siren, a crumb of cake flew up and landed in Dongsik’s hair.
“Damn, Yejun was right! Eunbi-ya, destroy the evidence!”
“What evidence?!”
“I don’t know, burn the flute!!”
“My flute?”, Haeun gasped with an unamused frown at her comrade, cradling her case protectively from Minseok's childish outburst. “Forget it, dumbass.”
Juwon looked at Dongsik with an exasperated shrug. I was just answering the question...
With a dramatic bow, Minseok leaned forward. “You’re samcheon’s boyfriend and a cop? Wow…this is like one of those cheesy TV dramas my mom always watches when she irons the laundry.”
Dongsik shook his head. “Keep talking, Minseok-ah, and you’ll find yourself in a very special police report called ‘Child Loudmouth Incident’.”
Minseok grinned, chewing on his cake like a high squirrel. “Sounds like fun.”
“Guess I have to buy some extra cakes next time.”, Juwon said, looking into the now empty paper bag. Dongsik tilted his head with a curious glimmer in his eyes.
“Oh? Next time?”
Juwon glanced away, but his ears turned into that soft pink shade again, flustered from his own words and the surprisignly tiny but sweet message - a promise - they carried.
“Yeah. Next time…”
Even though it might've sounded a little silly to outsiders, these two simple words - next time - meant the world to Dongsik. He had expected Juwon to disappear again, expected him to drop off those little walnut cakes like a gift left on a doorstep, then vanish back into the bustling city, back into the cold marble hallways of a life that never really wanted him. Not then, and not now.
But Juwon stayed. Not just to deliver something incredibly sweet. Not just to visit for the sake of it.
He came all the way down to Munju to sit beside a demolished man who no longer wore a badge, who played guitar and sung rabbit songs for kids with problematic families or bad living conditions. And for now there was no sudden emergency call coming in from Seoul.
All three children looked at each other because even they noticed the shift in the atmosphere. It was indeed time to go - and leave these two lovebirds alone.
Minseok chomped into the last piece of Hodugwaja with a glimpse of triumph and walked off with the two girls in tow towards the route to home. However, not without leaving a last mouthful remark that would most likely fluster anyone at this point.
“Bruh. You guys are so married.”
“Thank you, Samcheon!”
“Bye-bye, scary cop ajeossi…”
"His name is Han Juwon..."
"Bye-bye, Han Juwon-ssi!"
“At least warn us first when you stick your tongues down your throats....next time!”
Their bright laughter and giggles echoed across the parking lot, then slowly faded into the sounds of rustling trees. Dongsik slumped back on the bench with a long, theatrical sigh, scrubbing his hands over his face in slight embarrassment.
“Aish…that was like getting jumped at by a squirrel gang.”
Juwon sat stiff beside him, his expression blank in that very specific way that meant he was deeply rattled but pretending not to be affected. Dongsik turned his head, just a little and let his tired gaze drift. The last rays of sunshine pooled on the edge of Juwon’s curved cheekbone. His long lashes flicked down in a flash, and there - just at the corner of his mouth - still glued the funny smudge of adzuki paste.
He could’ve said something. And the kids could’ve told him, teased him, laughed at him as they always did when they riled up the adults. But none of them thought it necessary.
Reaching out slowly, Dongsik’s fingers moved towards Juwon’s face, waiting for him to draw back, because close, physical touch was still so unexplored territory.
Juwon didn’t move, didn’t even think one second about giving consent because Lee Dongsik had his every permission from the very beginning.
Personal space? Didn't exist between them.
It never had.
His heart pounded in his ears as Dongsik’s thumb suddenly brushed his lower lip, wiping away the small, sticky residue of the cake filling from the corner of his mouth.
His finger lingered for half a second longer than necessary - warm and caring, now coated with sugary anko. Their breathing stopped with the touch, right there at the delicate connection.
Juwon was here; not for any case, not for duty or to suspect and accuse people of crimes they hadn’t committed. He had grown on his failures, he had come to sit beside a broken man in a broken town, only to eat sweet walnut cakes with him in the afternoon sun while trying not to let the pathetic truth about his crumbling life slip from his pretty mouth.
As he withdrew his hand, Dongsik glanced at the dark smudge on his thumb, now sticky with anko - and licked the paste off his finger.
Juwon’s mouth parted to let out a silent huff of disbelief, not daring to look away though. His brain was searching for a word to describe what he just saw, what he felt, but none came to mind.
"So…”, Dongsik began to fill the silence. “What about the nap on the bench? Is the offer still good, Inspector?"
Juwon blinked away to hide his embarrassment as Dongsik suddenly brought up the hypothetical bench nap he himself had offered him.
He came here with time and off duty. So far still no emergency calls or messages on his phone. What could go wrong?
“Sure.”, he nodded with a shy smile, mentally preparing himself for…yeah, for what exactly?
Before he could think of something to be prepared for, he felt the weight of Dongsik’s head snuggling up gently against his shoulder. Almost in an instant, his body tensed again at the unfamiliar impact, then relaxed a few seconds later, taking hold of the empty paper bag to channel the tension into his hands and out of his mind.
He was used to boundaries and structure; not sleepy heads on shoulders.
“Lee Dongsik-ssi.”
“Yes?”
“I…”
The taste of the hodugwaja still lingered faintly on their tongues. The cakes were gone, but the fact Juwon’s world had fallen apart and he hadn’t run farther away from his newfound family tasted so much sweeter.
And now Dongsik’s hair ruffled against the fabric of his coat, the body heat seeping through his sleeve all the way down his arm and straight into his fingertips. The faint scent, traces of minty shampoo and cigarette smoke, clung to Dongsik’s clothes and when he focused on the calm breathing rhythm, Juwon noticed it almost synced with his own.
The touch wasn’t needy or supposed to crush a boundary.
It was just a sign of…trust.
No one had ever gotten that close to him. He didn’t know how to react, what to do, if he should rather just- Shake him off? Get up, walk away? As he would’ve usually done so?
“Just a few minutes…”, Dongsik murmured sleepily against the broad, strong shoulder beneath his cheek. And Juwon let him; let Dongsik get closer like he had never been before since the day they had seen each other last - not wanting to shake him off.
Instead he leaned in against Dongsik’s stubborn head just enough to touch, light and careful, his nose dipping into the unruly dark locks for a second - unsure if he was doing it right. But at this moment, he felt like he found a place of peace where his soul and mind could stop pacing for once and just…be at ease.
Minutes passed like this, one by one, until the sun had disappeared behind the building.
There, at the other end of the opposite street, the head of a rabbit plushie bobbed into view from behind a large maple tree.
Neither of them moved nor minded that they were still watched by that tiny group of way too curious peepers.
“...They’re still here, aren’t they?” Dongsik didn't move - head heavy, stomach too full.
“Mhm. All three of them.", Juwon confirmed. "Ten meters to the left of the parking lot, behind the giant maple tree. Terrible cover.”
“And here I would’ve expected them to be more clever with all the spy movies we have watched in the last weeks…”, Dongsik sighed and nestled himself closer against Juwon.
From behind the tree emerged a row of nervous whispers, then Minseok’s unmistakable voice.
“Have they kissed yet??”
“No, but they are cuddling now!♡”
“Hurry up and take that photo!”
A phone slid up out of the bushes, followed by Eunbi’s little pigtail head, her eyes wide and glowing as Haeun held the device up. Click.
“Aiii! I think they saw us!”
“Yooo, let’s get the fuck outta here!”
“Pssht, no bad words around Samcheon!”
"As if he could hear us...he's way too busy canoodling that weird cop."
Eunbi gasped when she saw they had been spotted, then yanked Minseok’s sleeve so hard he fell sideways into the bushes. The echo of hasty steps waved over the empty street, accompanied by hysterious laughter and giggles.
With an amused, lazy smile, Dongsik tilted his head up. “You gonna arrest them, Inspector, or should I call backup?”
“I forgot what a nightmare civilian surveillance is.”
“Told you. Squirrel gang.”
Dongsik closed his eyes again, letting the weight of Juwon’s presence finally sink into his bones, embracing this moment of rest, comfort and tranquility.
You...staying here with me, Juwon-ah? I think…I needed that more than I knew.