Chapter Text
Park Junmo didn’t know why he was standing in front of the Business faculty building of the University of Hong Kong at almost four in the afternoon on a Thursday.
Well, that was a lie – he knew exactly why. The reason just seemed more like a terrible idea as the minutes passed, and he was actually starting to doubt himself the more he had to wait.
Forcing his leg to stop tapping its fast rhythm, he reached into his pocket for his trusty lighter and his quickly depleting pack of cigarettes, and lit one up – the second one since he’d been here.
The truth was, Junmo was nervous. Which wasn’t an emotion he was particularly familiar with.
Not a lot of things made him feel that way to begin with – he had a shitty childhood and he was a detective who threw himself headfirst into most situations; he had seen things – not to mention what went down one and a half years ago. Junmo didn’t do nervous. Compared to that whole shitshow, this should have felt like a walk in the park. Seeing someone after a long time should not have been scarier than taking down drug operations spanning multiple countries.
But somehow it was. Unsurprising, given who Junmo was actually here for during his forced leave and after an hours long flight from Seoul, but still. When he came up with this plan, he didn’t account for how he would actually feel about seeing her.
Junmo should have known – she’d made him nervous even back then.
Lee Haeryun was something Junmo wasn’t and couldn’t have prepared for – sharp, gorgeous, and far too good for the world she’d gotten caught up in. Someone who, despite Junmo trying his damnedest to hide who he really was, had managed to see through him. And like him. Someone who protected him and his real identity, even while feeling incredibly betrayed by his lies.
Someone Junmo still deeply regretted hurting back then. She didn’t deserve to have her heart broken in such a terrible way.
It was unintentional on Junmo’s part – he couldn’t tell her the truth about himself nor the operation and he had been married – but still: he wished many times after everything went down that he could’ve been honest or done more for her. Especially after figuring out what she had done for him.
Junmo still felt conflicted over the death of Detective Hwang Mingoo. It should have been upsetting, given it was plain murder, but all Junmo could feel was relief and gratitude towards her. Even slight satisfaction deep, deep down, if he was really honest with himself.
A cop feeling like that over the death of a fellow cop? Junmo was terrible.
After, he tried to get her whereabouts out of her scar-faced bodyguard who was sitting in a holding cell as the suspect for the homicide. Discreetly, of course, never where it could be seen or in ear-shot of anyone. But the only thing Scarface ever said to him was that he didn’t know, and even if he did… Haeryun might have protected Junmo but his job was to protect her, so he would rather die than tell Junmo anything on the off-chance he was after her.
Then he never spoke again about the matter, or her. Junmo understood.
With everything going down all at once – Gangnam Union, the japanese and chinese operations, a long visit from Internal Affairs and his fallout with Euijeong – he didn’t really have time nor was it wise to search for her, but as soon as he was able, a year later, he did.
It was bittersweet to find out that she took him on his word and indeed settled down in Hong Kong. Even after everything, she trusted him enough to not be afraid that Junmo would expose her possible location to the authorities. If Junmo was in her shoes, he would have chosen another location literally no one knew about and hid there; he wouldn’t have even been mad at her if that was what she had done. But she didn’t.
She was here – at the location that he suggested, under the alias he knew about. If Junmo was a scumbag, it would have literally meant the end for her.
Junmo didn’t know what to make of it, to be honest. Was she just naive or was it intentional? Was it trust or a simple ‘fuck you’? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer, either. It was enough to know that she got out scot-free and that she was okay. Well, as okay as one could be after a situation like what happened.
That should have been the end of it. But Junmo kept finding himself checking up on her over the months.
As a cop and someone who spent quite a lot of time undercover in a gang, he knew the right channels on both sides now to keep a tab on someone; it was a piece of cake. At first, he told himself it was to keep an eye on her – making sure no one was after her on either side. (Fortunately, there wasn’t anyone.) Then it was about checking how she was doing – that she had a roof over her head, wasn’t financially or otherwise in trouble. (She wasn’t – she lived in better conditions than he did, enrolled in HKU and led a simple life.)
After the third time, he didn’t dare to think of the reason he kept looking her up. It was borderline stalking, that’s what it was and Junmo felt like utter garbage every time he did it and felt relieved she was okay. He lost the right to worry about her a long time ago. Not sure he ever did have it, to be honest.
Junmo smoked the last bit of his cigarette looking away from the entrance of the university, and grounded the butt of it under his heel, wondering once again what the fuck he was even doing here, what it would accomplish.
It’s not like he wanted to come. Well, okay, he did, he toyed with the thought sometimes, but… it was mostly the doing of his chief who kindly suggested (more like threatened to fire him) to take his medical leave, and the doctor who treated him and planted the idea of a change of scenery with plenty of rest. And mainly the strong painkillers’ fault in the early days that lowered his inhibitions just enough to have the courage to call up a travel agency to arrange the ticket. Fast forward to two days ago when it landed in his mail seemingly out of the blue, along with the realization that he couldn’t cancel it without penalty fees anymore. Cue a sleepless night thinking about his idiocy and hurried packing at dawn after admitting defeat, and just boarding the damn plane in the end.
That was this morning. And it was still a terrible idea.
Just as Junmo started chickening out, the sound of chatter and laughter found his ears, brought to him by the gentle spring breeze from the entrance of the building to where he was standing opposite of that, and he looked up from the asphalt that he’d been observing in his musings.
A group of young women were approaching, all beautiful in their own right – yet Junmo’s eyes only zeroed on one of them.
It was her.
Haeryun looked different yet similar to the last time Junmo saw her. Her stylish dress was exchanged for a pair of high-waisted jeans and a maroon blouse tucked into it; her small hand-held bags turning into shouldering a mid-sized leather bag that must have been full of her school materials – still looking like she owned the runway but simply a different one.
Yet her heels, her silky straight, shining black hair, her makeup with that bold lipstick, her entire face – it was still the very heartstopping same, including her smile.
Which promptly disappeared as soon as her gaze found Junmo in a sea of others – eyes widening in recognition and expression flashing through a dozen different emotions in seconds.
This was a terrible idea, Junmo thought wincing, being damn certain of it this time. She was happy and carefree before and he just ruined it like how he ruined her life one and a half years ago. He had no fucking right to show up here.
But the damage was done – she saw him, and they were coming his way, so there was no use fleeing. It would be cowardly and insulting to do so. So Junmo straightened his back and waited, deciding to take whatever she might dish out.
It might have been the longest few minutes of his life, standing there with his lips dry and heart pounding which only worsened as she got closer because Haeryun’s expression was completely unreadable. Junmo didn’t know what to expect and it was nerve-wracking.
In the end, nothing happened. She passed by without any acknowledgement or a glance.
Junmo barely heard the giggling chinese of the other girls who were seemingly talking about him – he knew the word handsome, courtesy of a certain someone – over his heart lurching surprisingly painfully in his chest.
He swallowed with difficulty; turned around and watched her retreating back while trying to convince himself that getting to see her was more than what he deserved honestly – but it was futile.
It still stung.
But if that was all he was getting out of this trip then so be it – Junmo stubbornly watched her walk away, trying to store every single thing about her into memory because if nothing else, he could still have that, couldn’t he? Even if it hurt.
A few steps later, however, they stopped and Haeryun seemingly said goodbye to her friends – some of them cheekily waved to him as they continued on their way, glancing back frequently, making Junmo blink in confusion – and she turned around, walking back towards Junmo with sure steps.
It happened much too quickly for Junmo to realize what was going on. Before he knew it, she was in front of him, beautiful eyes akin to a lightning storm and dark red lips in a thin, angry line and in the next second, his head was turning from the force of her powerful slap on his left cheek.
Junmo hung his head, cheek rapidly reddening and burning like hell, unable to look her in the eye. He said nothing. Did nothing as she started hitting him on the arms next while cursing him out in Chinese. Even though it hurt. Even though some landed right on a freshly stitched knife cut under his jacket, courtesy of his last case.
But when the next one went to his torso, while the hit itself wasn’t really painful, he couldn’t hold in the sharp inhale and pained groan that was punched out him, nor the reflex to step back and protect the area with his hand, the pain in his badly cracked ribs and bruises flaring up with vengeance. He breathed through it with difficulty, trying to take deep and slow breaths (to avoid pneumonia as the doctor instructed) until the worst of it was over – then he straightened back up as much as he could from his hunched over position.
“You’re injured?” Was that concern in her voice? Junmo couldn’t tell.
“I-I’m fine. You can continue.”
A long pause. “Let me be perfectly clear,” Haeryun said, voice clipped. “If you don’t plan on telling the truth, and only the truth, I’m leaving. So, I’m asking again – are you injured?”
Junmo could have argued – that it was really fine, because the worst of it was behind him and anyway, he received far worse injuries in his life than a few cracked ribs. But the way Haeryun was looking at him, he was a hair’s breadth away from the end of her generous patience. He didn’t dare to risk it.
“Yes. But –”
“Fucking idiot,” she muttered under her breath in Chinese, cutting him off and grabbed his forearm, dragging him in the direction she was walking in before, without an explanation or a single word really.
That didn’t change even when they reached the parking lot and her fancy car, and Junmo offered to drive her (like he always did before, almost out of reflex) and the only thing she gave was a scathing glare that spoke volumes about what she thought about that.
Once they were on the road though, Haeryun surprisingly broke the tense quiet that settled in the car.
“Do you need to go to a hospital?”
“Ah, no – I don’t think so?” Junmo said with a bit of uncertainty, which made Haeryun glance at him in a way that had him instantly try to explain himself better. “I was treated by a doctor before I came here. I’m just… tender, still.”
She simply nodded and continued to drive, small hands white-knuckling the wheel and jawline noticeably ticking as she was clenching her teeth. Still not saying a word about where they were going and at that point he was afraid to even ask.
It was obvious to Junmo already but Haeryun looked absolutely furious. He didn’t want to antagonize her further. But as the minutes grew longer and the silence denser, Junmo found himself wanting to ease it somehow – and what else to say other than what should’ve been the first word out of his mouth as soon as they met each other again?
His mouth barely opened to apologize, when Haeryun snapped, “No.”
“No?”
“We are not talking in the car. Whatever you were about to say, just don’t.”
“Alright,” Junmo said softly, abiding by her wish.
He tried to busy himself by looking outside his window instead – watching the tall skyscrapers and the busy streets pass by, curiously noting buildings or places that caught his attention. He didn’t have even the slightest hint of a travel plan coming here – didn’t know what he should see and what he should do aside from… Well. And anyways, Junmo didn’t know how to be a tourist – with a junkie father, they never travelled and when he became old enough to work and earn his own money, he simply either didn’t have the funds or the time to organize a trip for himself. Aside from a few work-related outings and his honeymoon to Jeju, he didn’t leave the mainland or even flew by plane. This was the first time he did so.
After a few minutes, Junmo had to fight to stay awake – the soothing motions and white noise of the car rocking his tired, pained, sleep-deprived body gently into a relaxed state. Before he could succumb into real sleep however, Haeryun drove to a stop in front of a tall apartment complex.
“We’re here,” she murmured off-handedly and without waiting for Junmo, she stepped out of the vehicle, shouldering her bag. Junmo scrambled to follow and after locking her car, they were soon inside.
The neighborhood looked wealthy enough already, but seeing a receptionist-slash-security guy just after the entrance nod from his post to Haeryun; looking at the decor and the existence of multiple well-kept elevators drove the point home that wherever she was bringing him, it would be high-end. Minutes later, they were on the ninth floor where Haeryun opened one of the three doors with a key pulled out from a bunch of others that she retrieved from her bag.
Inside, she locked the door, kicked off her shoes and walked in like she was… at home.
Did she just –
“Where are we?” Junmo asked, not moving an inch from the door, wanting to be sure.
“At my apartment,” came the muted answer he expected, from somewhere he couldn’t see from the narrow hallway.
Junmo felt like he shouldn’t have the right to be there, at her place, and a part of him was scared to leave the foyer and step more inside. It felt like crossing some kind of line.
“Aren’t you afraid of showing me exactly where you live?” he asked, pocketing his hands and still just… standing there, like a moron. “That I would tell…others?”
The urge that he needed to go was rising with each second. But his feet weren’t moving. Neither in or out.
Suddenly, Haeryun appeared in front of him, leaning on the wall and raising an eyebrow.
“If I was afraid of you snitching on me, Mr. Detective, I would live in a different country under a different name,” she said drily, unamused, rolling her eyes. That answered his question from earlier. “Take off your shoes and come in already.”
Junmo did.
Stepping in, Junmo could see that the interior was as luxurious and tastefully designed as the presidential suite of a hotel. From the spacious living room others could be seen – a kitchen, a bathroom, a bedroom and even a balcony, where a breathtaking view could be seen of the setting sun over Hong Kong and its river that he didn’t remember the name of.
(Junmo was still just as bad with geography.)
“Nice view,” he commented awkwardly, not knowing what to say.
Haeryun was coming out of the kitchen this time – she was flitting in and out of the space so comfortably and seamlessly that Junmo barely noticed she wasn’t around – bringing out a bottle of red wine and two glasses.
“I chose this place because the view reminded me of the Han river,” she commented, surprising Junmo and making him turn around to face her. She put down the bottle and the glasses on her fancy coffee table and gestured towards it while raising a questioning eyebrow at Junmo, silently asking him if he wanted any.
Junmo hesitated, just for a second. Because he knew that alcohol would have made things much easier: loosen his tongue and give him some liquid courage – and considering he hadn’t eaten in… shit, maybe since morning, it would have been effective.
But he had his medication to take later and he also wanted to stay sober for all this. Whatever might happen.
So he shook his head no. Haeryun shrugged, uncaring, and filled her own glass generously; sat down on one of her brown leather armchairs and started sipping it with her usual class, without a glance at him. Junmo stayed standing where he was, near the couch but a considerable distance away from her.
“I thought – I thought you’d rather forget Korea,” Junmo hedged, when the silence was beginning to feel pressing.
“Hard to forget a country when you’ve barely spent enough time in it to have memories of it,” Haeryun scoffed, swirling her wine around with a frown before taking another sip.
Junmo internally winced.
She indeed had barely been able to sightsee and look around with the bunch of bullshit that happened, not to mention her plans of living there collapsed like a house made out of cards. And what she did see was what – some hanoks and the poorest neighborhood, alongside some shopping malls?
Fine, she had a walk alongside the Han river as well – which had a certain charm about it at night, he had to admit – but it was together with Junmo, which must’ve made the memories of it at least bittersweet.
In fact, since Junmo was her shitty tour guide for most of her stay, what went down must’ve been constantly shadowing, tainting even her fondest memories. He didn’t understand why she wanted to remember them.
“Park Junmo-ssi.”
It was the first time she ever called him that and Junmo could barely hide his reaction to it. Because if Kwon Seungho, a name of a man that didn’t even exist, felt so good and real out of her mouth, hearing his own name was just… something else. She pronounced it like no one ever did.
Her glass was put down on the table with a sudden clink, and Haeryun leant back in her arm chair, legs and arms crossed and eyes finally looking at him, deadly serious and expectant.
“Why are you here?”
This was it, he thought. Junmo swallowed and unconsciously straightened his back. Like when he was giving a report to his chief.
“To apologize and… to explain.”
Himself or the situation back then, he didn’t actually know. Both – either. Whatever she wanted. Because she deserved that much.
Haeryun tilted her head to the side, dark eyes scrutinizing him and making the nervous feeling, that never quite went away since they left the university grounds, emerge with new vengeance. To his surprise, she shook her head, unimpressed.
“Too much hassle,” she said simply, her tone getting more business-like. “A letter would have been easier for an apology or explanation. Not to mention cheaper. And you would’ve spared yourself some bodily harm.”
That was true. But –
“You wouldn’t have had the chance to confront me like this if I did that,” Junmo argued.
Her eyes narrowed for a second, then she nodded and her expression shifted into something that showed that she was giving that one to Junmo. “Perhaps.”
A tiny but nerve-wrecking break for sipping wine.
“Tell me the real reason,” she demanded as she placed the glass back on the table, and pinned him with a single look as she got comfortable again.
She seemed relaxed and like she thoroughly controlled the situation meanwhile Junmo felt like his body was close to twitching from the withheld stress under her stare. He licked his dry lips, readying them to deliver another reason – just not one that he had trouble admitting even to himself.
“Do not bullshit me,” Haeryun’s clipped voice cut through the quiet, warning him, just as his mouth opened. “I had enough of that. I want to know exactly why you are here and why you’ve been keeping tabs on me.”
At Junmo’s shock, she only responded with her driest, most unimpressed stare – it was the loudest ‘who do you think I am’ look, and the question of ‘how?’ promptly died on Junmo’s mouth before it could have been uttered. Because of course she knew.
Junmo huffed out a disbelieving laugh.
No matter the time or distance, she still knew. Saw right through him. Just like pretty much always. He didn’t know what to do.
“You have ten seconds to start talking before I kick you out,” she threatened when Junmo remained stubbornly silent, her voice and gaze like cold steel – and she was absolutely serious about it as she immediately started counting loudly.
Junmo was at war with himself. He knew this wouldn’t be easy, but he just thought – he thought that she would care more about his explanation and his apology, or venting out her anger. That the attention would be on her, and her wants and her feelings and whatever happened rather than what was going on with him. Something which Junmo desperately tried to avoid discussing.
He’d always tended to rather do that when it came to his feelings. It was easier and safer to keep them to himself as a kid; they didn’t really matter when he was a teenager because mostly no one cared about them; and compartmentalizing and pushing them aside was literally a necessity in his job as an adult. (Being undercover for so long did not help matters, either.) He largely ignored them until they couldn’t be ignored anymore.
But what Haeryun was asking for – the true reason behind this whole nonsense… It very much included feelings – which Junmo didn’t want to disclose at all if possible. To anyone – but especially her.
His allotted time was already down to six seconds. Haeryun was watching him like a hawk as she counted and Junmo buried his face in his hands, exhaling harshly, like he’d run a marathon – but the pressure in his chest wasn’t easing.
He was a man of action rather than words. He wasn’t confident nor equipped to talk about his emotions. And Haeryun was literally trying to make him.
He didn’t want to do it. But the consequences would have been worse if he didn’t and he just – he couldn’t not.
Junmo bit his lip, almost hard enough to bleed, let his hands fall from his face and turned around – showing his back to her and grabbing onto the couch, knuckles white, for support. He couldn’t face her.
He cracked one second from the end of the countdown.
“I missed you,” he whispered, finally.
“What was that?”
Junmo swallowed down the ball lodged in his throat, licked his Sahara-dry lips and repeated it again, louder, while looking at nothing else other than the slowly settling night view of the city.
“I missed you. I just –”
He sighed, defeated, messing up his hair, and the dam that he was trying to hold so desperately, broke. And he started talking.
“I couldn’t get you out of my mind. My head was constantly filled with thoughts of you: remembering, feeling guilty and sorry about what happened, wondering how you were doing, worrying about your well-being, playing with what-ifs – a thousand different things. Awake or not, it did not matter – you were plaguing every moment.”
Junmo took a shuddering breath.
“After what happened, I barely had time to breathe with all the shit coming down into my neck: dealing with the fall-out, my promotion, getting transferred to a new unit, the media, the damn internal investigation and the never-ending questioning, my divorce, grieving for my brother –”
He winced at the sharp, familar pain in his torso that let him know that he was talking and breathing way too fast for his body to handle right now. He took a calming, slow breath before he continued.
“ – but even then, I kept thinking of you.”
Junmo laughed, bitterly – uncaring of how his ribs started protesting even more, the constant ache that he was kind of used to by now hitting another level.
“And nothing helped. I buried myself in even more work. I worked out and punched things until I bled. I drank and I went to a bar and tried bedding the first attractive woman who showed interest in me – to no avail.”
That one was a disaster. His new colleagues jokingly told him often to get laid and get rid of his frustration, until Junmo actually took them up on the idea. The woman in question had straight, black hair and piercing eyes, and they barely started kissing when Junmo put a stop to all of it. He couldn’t stand it. Because she wasn’t her.
“So I gave up and started looking for you.”
He paused, his voice quiet as he continued a beat later. “When I found you, it was the first time I felt like I could breathe in so long. And each time after I looked you up and saw that you were okay and doing well I –” he swallowed. “I was so relieved. And happy. And felt like trash. It was enough for a while but –”
He shrugged in defeat, not completing the sentence, letting it hang in the air between them.
“I didn’t plan to do anything.” Junmo swallowed, shaking his head. “I had no intention of making a mess out of your life even more than I already did. I was just –” He groaned. “My colleagues are tattletale bastards so I got benched a few days ago by my annoying ass chief, and the emergency care doctor who treated me was way too nosy and kept talking about bed-rest and a change of scenery, and the strength of the painkillers he prescribed to me could’ve taken down a fucking –”
Junmo gasped and grabbed his side when an even harsher wave of pain went through him as his breaths quickened. Glancing at his watch on his left hand, which was still grabbing onto the couch but now with a sweaty palm, it showed that the time was inching towards early evening.
No wonder he was starting to hurt more – the meds were wearing off. Along with his strength. He didn’t have much more to add anyway.
“Anyway, I – I bought the ticket here without thinking. I almost didn’t board the plane,” he admitted, hanging his head, knowing that it made him seem like an absolute coward. And really – he was one. “But I’m here.”
The next words, Junmo almost didn’t say. Because he already explained enough for her to get where he was coming from – she would have had to be a dumbass to not see what all what he said added up to, and Lee Haeryun was nothing if not a brilliant woman.
Just in case though – he wanted to say them. Because he couldn’t be sure that among his nervous babbling, the message actually got across. He couldn’t tell her (yet) in words that were unmistakable, nor did he felt like he actually had the right to say it – but she would certainly understand these ones. They talked about them before and it meant something.
It took him two tries to get enough courage to utter them.
“I’m here… because my body follows my heart,” he said really, really softly; the force constricting his chest from the inside finally dissipating after so long. The line of Junmo’s shoulders eased – like an enormous weight had been lifted from them.
The quiet was deafening.
Junmo didn’t notice since he was talking so much, but all the while, Haeryun didn't say a single word or make a sound. Now that there was no one to fill the silence however, it was utterly obvious. Along with how hot he suddenly felt in his jacket.
(He didn’t take it off, thinking he wouldn’t be staying long.)
Did he even want her to say anything? Junmo couldn’t decide. The only thing he was sure of was that right now, he wished he had a shovel at hand so he could dig a huge hole for himself, hide and possibly never fucking emerge from it. He felt way too vulnerable at the moment.
He mentally counted to three whole minutes before he decided that utter silence is an answer too and with an aching heart, he cleared his throat, along with running the palm that wasn’t holding onto his aching ribs, down his pants to get rid of the nervous sweat that accumulated there.
“Alright,” he said quietly, nodding. “I-I think I should go –”
“The only place you will go to,” Haeryun suddenly said sternly, almost making him jump, “is that couch, where you’ll be sitting your idiotic ass down.”
Junmo turned around – confused and shocked.
“Huh?”
He could barely look at her, but when he did, Haeryun looked unamused. She raised her eyebrows, nodding towards the furniture.
“Couch,” she repeated; and slowly unfurling her limbs, she stood up, stretching like a cat after staying in one position for so long. Then, she bent down and reached under her coffee table.
Junmo looked away.
Something heavy was set down on the table but Junmo was only focusing on forgetting how those jeans hugged her figure perfectly.
“Was I speaking in Chinese or are you deaf?” she sounded suddenly much closer, and Junmo didn’t have time to brace himself when he felt her grab his arm, and start to push him where she wanted. “I said sit. Down.”
Junmo complied, lightly wincing at having to move – but not having much choice in the matter since she was stronger than she looked. The couch was like a cloud – soft and welcoming but not overly so that he would sink into the cushions too deep to stand up without difficulty.
(Firm enough to hold him upright, soft enough to disarm. Not unlike her.)
Not that he felt like that standing up was something he was allowed to do right now with the way she was looking down at him.
Haeryun was in front of the couch, arms crossed, and gave Junmo a narrow-eyed stare from head to toe.
“Jacket and shirt off.”
Junmo’s eyebrows would have flown off his head if they weren’t stopped by his hairline.
“W-What?”
One of her hands left her chest to pat the top of the huge, white box on the coffee table Junmo didn’t even notice until then. The red cross on it was a glaring sign of its purpose.
“You said you don’t need a hospital,” she said. “Fine. But you are clearly in pain. Let me see.”
No, Junmo thought. Absolutely not.
“Thank you, but there’s no need, really, I’m –”
Haeryun flicked him on the nose. Hard. Junmo stared at her, utterly baffled and she stared back, unbothered and unapologetic.
“If you try to say you’re fine one more time,” she threatened, holding up her hand ready in a flicking position once more. When she knew from his expression that Junmo understood, she snapped her fingers in front of him, gesturing to his jacket. “Palli, palli.”
God, he forgot how she could get. She always got what she wanted.
Junmo started slowly taking off the garment, being mindful of any movements pulling on his side but it still wasn’t enough. It hurt.
“It’s just my ribs,” he tried to explain, still battling with one of the sleeves, hoping to get her to drop the insane idea she came up with in her head in the meantime. “They’re slightly fractured but not much can be done about them aside from icing them once in a while and taking some painkillers.”
Haeryun helped with the last bit of the jacket, taking it from his hands when they came off, which he actually didn’t protest. Junmo – tired even from this much and in considerable pain now – leant his head back on the couch instead and closed his eyes, trying to breathe through it.
“Do you have them with you?”
“Jacket,” Junmo sighed. Hearing her patting it down and checking everywhere, he tried helping her. “Left inner pocket. In my wallet.”
But then his eyes suddenly flew open in realization. And abject horror. Of all people, he couldn’t let her open it and see –
Junmo tried to abruptly stand up. And quickly regretted it.
“No, wait – argh!”
Junmo was breathing harshly through his nose as he fell back to the couch, eyes clenched shut from the pure agony. How could he forget his injury? He was so fucking stupid! It was such an unnecessary move too and extremely late – she found the wallet already and opened it, he wouldn’t have been able to stop her, so why did he – ugh!
When Junmo felt like he was in no danger of dying, his eyelids opened, eyes falling onto her in front of him – his jacket on her arm, staring into his wallet, frozen.
Where Junmo knew was a picture of someone – secretly stolen and printed from a government record, in black and white. The quality was not the best but the woman’s distinct features still clearly could be seen.
He closed his eyes in mortification.
As much as he expected her to comment seeing her own ID picture greeting her back from its protective pouch, however, she didn’t. It took her a few moments to reanimate from her frozen state – Junmo could hear the distinct sound of the blister packs as she found them in one of the folds, and her ruffling through the rest of his wallet shamelessly.
“Junmo-ssi?”
He opened his eyes but barely looked at her for a split second at a time, still feeling way too embarrassed and afraid of what she might say. But she seemingly didn’t care. Haeryun held up his wallet when she had his attention.
“Here’s what’s going to happen now,” she said; smile and tone polite and screaming business. “I’m going to go to the kitchen to get you a glass of water, along with an ice pack. Maybe some tea, too. You,” she pointed at him with a perfectly manicured, red-nailed finger, accompanied by a fierce frown, “will stay on the couch, on that very spot, and wait for me.”
Her tone suggested that if he did otherwise, there would be consequences.
She shook the wallet in her hand. “And I’m taking this for the time being, by the way. Can’t leave without it, right?”
Junmo didn’t have the strength in him to tell her that he had no intention to move with the way he was hurting right now, no matter how much a part of him wanted to run from this situation – he only nodded. She seemed satisfied by that easy response but still watched him, eyes squinting and suspicious, for a moment. It amazed him how she just seemed to know him.
“Stay,” she pointed at him sternly once again before walking into the kitchen.
Junmo exhaled the breath that he seemed to be holding ever since he stepped foot into this apartment, and closing his eyes, he repeatedly whacked his nape into the backrest of the couch, mouthing numerous curse words before settling down.
She still wasn’t saying a thing. To anything.
It confused (and frankly, worried) Junmo to no end.
He could’ve tried to think more deeply about her behavior, but it was easier not to – honestly, he started to feel tired, his energy depleted by the constant pain and the sleepless night before his flight. Trying to understand women and their thought process was just too much right now.
With his eyes closed, he tried to relax (sleep was simply impossible with him aching like he was) – taking as deep breaths as his ribs let him, and listening to the white noise of her movements in her kitchen, weirdly soothing in its own way.
Minutes later, he was roused by glass clinking against the table as it was set down. He blinked up at Haeryun, who, after the glass of water, was trying to place a cup of fragrant, steaming tea without spilling, as well as the promised ice-pack while shouldering a fluffy looking gray blanket. His wallet – since she had no free hands – was peeking and bulging out of her jeans’ front pocket, the blister packs of his meds held between her teeth.
Once she had everything set down, she tore them open and took out tablets according to Junmo’s instructions, coming closer and offering them to him with the water. Junmo gratefully took both and after taking the medications and easing his surprisingly parched throat, gave back the empty glass to her with a thankful nod.
“How long until they take effect?” she asked.
Junmo shrugged. “Don’t know. No more than twenty minutes, though.”
It was silent for a moment, then – “Let me see your ribs.”
“I told you it’s –” Junmo sighed, giving up, seeing how adamant she looked, glaring and arms crossed. “Fine.”
The T-shirt he was wearing was an old, worn-out, gray one – way back from his police academy years, the logo of which had long since started peeling. But it was comfy, light and soft, perfect for a sleep-shirt and for injuries like these. Junmo first got rid of his black, elastic rib belt that he got years ago because of a similar injury – separating the velcro ends and taking a deeper breath as his lungs weren’t as constricted anymore. Then, he grabbed the stretched out neckline of his shirt and just pulled it over his head.
Haeryun’s gasp wasn’t a surprise.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Junmo assured her quietly, even though the angry looking, deep purple, almost black tapestry of bruises looked kind of… ugly. These types of injuries were sadly ones that looked and felt the worst before they started to get better – sadly Junmo knew that from experience.
He didn’t think mentioning that would help her mood though, so he stayed silent and let her do what she wanted.
She seemed to be cataloguing every single bruise with the way she was looking at his torso – he could almost feel her eyes’ journey over his skin, making it tingle.
Then, her eyes suddenly narrowed.
“You didn’t mention the cuts!” she hissed, like an angry cat, leaning over and fingertips hovering close to the fresh stitches on his left arm and left pectoral, glaring.
Junmo honestly… kind of forgot those? The pain in his ribs certainly overshadowed them.
“I forgot,” he blurted out stupidly. When she glared daggers with her eyes for it, Junmo swallowed. “Sorry?”
Haeryun sighed and with a disappointed shake of her head, she reached for the first-aid kit and sat down beside him. After rummaging for a while, she found some antiseptic wipes that she gently dabbed on the still kind of fresh looking stitches – they stung a little bit but at least this way they certainly remained clean – and also took care to start putting some ointment on them and his injured knuckles – something which Junmo was neglecting all this time, since he had bigger injuries to worry about.
She didn’t say a word while she was doing this, only focusing on the task at hand with a light furrow of her brows – and Junmo couldn’t help but stare, uninterrupted. It had been so long since he’d seen her and she was just… so beautiful and gentle with her touches despite being annoyed at his carelessness. The way her fingers lightly grazed his skin from time to time, and when she was holding his hands made his heart pound embarrassingly fast.
“What happened?”
Junmo didn’t realize he was asked a question until Haeryun glanced up at him, an eyebrow raising when she caught him blatantly staring. His eyes flicked over to a random part of the room, busted and the temperature from the back of his neck started rising in embarrassment.
God, he hated how he got in front of women he was fond of.
“It was, uhm – there was a case,” Junmo stammered, unused to talking about his work with civilians but especially her. But he was trying. “Double homicide. The perpetrators didn’t exactly want to come quietly when I went to their hide-out to get them arrested. And sadly they had friends there who were quite… opinionated about the warrant.”
“And where were the others?”
Junmo tilted his head, confused. “Others?”
Haeryun glanced at him, gesturing at his ribs. “You got injured. I don’t know much about cops, but isn’t there supposed to be a partner or a team with you when you make arrests? To avoid that?” She looked away, puttering with the ointment and the first-aid kit’s contents. “Wasn’t your wife there?”
Junmo sighed.
“To quote my chief – I have great instincts but I’m a hot-headed ass. Not really thinking or waiting for backup, just doing things – case in point,” he mumbled. His voice went even quieter when he said, “Being undercover for so long – it certainly didn’t help. Sometimes I still forget that I’m part of an actual team now and that everyone is supposed to be doing equal work. That I don’t have to figure out things by myself or make decisions, figure out the logistics anymore. That I have people who would have my back.”
He snorted.
“So, when I forget, I get benched,” Junmo shrugged. “It’s my chief’s way of punishing me because he knows I hate being idle. It’s a running joke in the team that I’m like a dog that needs to be trained.”
His amusement that trickled into his voice as he talked gradually faded away as he took in her form. She nodded, but still wasn’t looking at him as she put away everything. He realized he still hadn’t answered one of her questions – was she really bothered by it?
“And regarding my ex-wife,” he said slowly, putting slight emphasis on it and watching out for her reactions, interested, “She is much higher in the chain than I am – we don’t even work at the same place. And I’m not sure she even knows what happened or even cares – we haven’t exactly been on speaking terms since the divorce.”
It was very subtle but her shoulders lost some of their tension – Junmo definitely caught it.
Interesting.
She silently nodded and grabbed the ice pack – stopping her suspiciously long tinkering with the kit – and leant closer, gently pressing it to his ribs.
Junmo hissed at the slight pain and the sudden cold biting into his skin, but he was beginning to relax as he got used to the temperature.
“Better?”
“Much,” Junmo breathed gratefully, eyes closed and resting his nape on the backrest of the couch. “Thank you.”
A few minutes was spent in silence like that – the only noise being their breathing and when she was slightly changing the position of the ice pack, to put where it was needed.
Junmo opened his eyes and turned his head to look at her.
She could’ve handed it over and have Junmo do it himself – that’s what he was doing at home anyway. He didn’t have any help. And while it pulled on his side, after the initial discomfort, it wasn’t painful. He could’ve done it. Yet, she was taking care of him.
Looking at her face, something still wasn’t right, though.
“Haeryun-ssi?”
No reaction. Junmo hesitated but grasped her wrist in the end, gently keeping her hand in place on his side. He made sure to keep his grip light so she could shake his hand off easily if she wanted to – he didn’t want to restrict her, or force her to do anything.
Yet she wasn’t resisting his touch. Wasn’t looking at him either, though, no matter how hard Junmo tried to catch her gaze. Now felt like the time to say what she didn’t allow him back in her car.
“I’m sorry,” Junmo said quietly. Sincerely.
“I’m sorry that you trusted me and I betrayed that trust. I’m sorry that I used your feelings towards me to my advantage. That I wasn’t entirely honest and often lied. That you got caught in my mission and it messed up your life. I’m truly sorry for all that and more.”
He held her hand a bit tighter, his eyes softening in gratitude. “And thank you for protecting me even when I didn’t deserve it.”
Her lips wobbled.
“Was it worth it?” Her voice sounded choked, like she was close to crying. Junmo’s thumb started rubbing soothingly over her hand unconsciously.
He shook his head. “No. It cost me a brother, my marriage and numerous lives. For what?” He scoffed. “Moving up two ranks? Hell no.”
“Then why? Why did you do it?” Haeryun looked at him finally, eyes teary from what must have been some pent-up feelings.
That was a question Junmo pondered upon a lot – by himself and with the department psychiatrist that was assigned to him for a few sessions before he was cleared to start working normally again.
Junmo hated therapy – it was especially difficult for him since he had to talk about what happened and his feelings, which was like pulling teeth. He had stopped going immediately after the doc signed his form, deeming him fit for work. But despite his distaste, it was undoubtedly true that he had actual, solid answers to the question Haeryun asked now because of it.
“Because I was stuck,” he explained calmly, undeterred by her expression. “Stuck in a marriage that was functioning on the surface but had deeper problems. Stuck in my job for being labeled as a junkie’s son, in a small town of no-where, with no future in sight. Stuck feeling like I’m inadequate and never enough.” He shrugged. “Accepting the offer was promising an out for all of that.”
An out he didn’t realize he desperately needed at the time.
“The worst thing was – sometimes I felt excited and happy,” Junmo continued on. “For possibly the first time in my life I felt like I was more than enough. It was rough, sure. Stressful as fuck. But I was trusted and respected, and I belonged somewhere without sticking out like a sore thumb.” He looked away, voice getting quiet. “Sometimes I still miss it, despite the mess.”
Junmo didn’t say that he also missed him.
Probably won’t ever admit it to anyone, least of all himself. But he fucking missed Jung Gicheol and their fucked-up friendship.
He still hadn’t found a way to settle the tiny part of himself that felt immense guilt over shooting a friend dead.
Haeryun – as if she sensed his inner turmoil – grabbed his other hand from his lap with her free one and moved her thumb back and forth over his hand gently, like he did. It made him smile.
“You know what’s ironic?”
Junmo looked at their clasped hands but continued on without waiting for her input. “I swore to be different from my father since I was a boy. I worked diligently. I tried to be good. I stayed away from fucking drugs.”
A short, bitter laugh slipped out of him before he could stop it. “But I ended up making a wrong life decision, just like him. It involved drugs – and it very much fucked my and other people’s lives up all the same. Like father – like son, huh?”
The silence that descended upon them was dense with thoughts. Haeryun especially seemed deep inside her mind, her fingers kept brushing his hand in an absentminded gesture rather than something conscious. Junmo wondered what she was thinking about, wanted to know so badly, actually – but whatever it was, he didn’t ask. Didn’t dare to.
Rather, he wanted to let her know something else – something that needed to be said. He collected his thoughts, inhaled and licked his lips anxiously.
“If you’re doing all this out of some kind of obligation or pity,” Junmo murmured gently, stopping her touch and removing his hand from their hold, even though it pained him, “you don’t need to do that. You owe me nothing, Haeryun-ssi. You can do whatever you want, including throwing me out.”
Haeryun looked up and searched his gaze with a light frown. Junmo suddenly realized how close they were – their legs brushing each other, his hand still holding hers on his side with the icepack, her long hair teasing his skin as she was slightly above him, eyes confused but beautiful. His heart started beating out of its usual rhythm before he could control it.
“Don’t – Don’t mind what I said to you earlier either,” he stammered – affected by their close proximity and the embarrassment over his… yeah, fuck it, he would say it, confession. He confessed to her, rather thoroughly and pathetically earlier – that was the truth. Junmo avoided her eyes, not wanting to see her reaction as he skirted the topic. “You don’t have to be kind just because I –”
His ears were positively burning, Junmo could feel it. Damn it.
“Anyway,” he cleared his throat. “I just wanted to say that… one word from you and I'll be out of your hair – take a taxi to my hotel, leave for Korea tomorrow and you will never see me again.”
Then, Junmo turned to her, looking straight into her eyes as he vowed, “I give you my word.”
(Even if it hurt like hell, he’d do it – Junmo knew. He’d respect her choice if it came down to that.)
He felt it before he saw it – the way her body reacted beside him, a sudden stiffness running through her like she’d been startled. Her hand, still holding the ice pack against his ribs, pressed a fraction too firmly for a heartbeat before easing again.
She turned her face away from him, just enough that he could see the tight line of her jaw, the way her lips pressed together and then parted again, like she was weighing what to say.
“I wanted to hate you.”
The words came out rough. Her voice trembled, not dramatically, but still noticeably – the kind of shake that came from holding something in for far too long, sprinkled with a pinch of resentment. She swallowed, her throat working visibly, and her grip on the ice pack shifted again, knuckles whitening before relaxing.
“But I couldn’t do it then, and can’t do it even now.”
She shook her head once, small and sharp, as if frustrated with herself for admitting it.
“Because as much as you hurt me, I understand. Even more so now.””
The pause after wasn’t empty. It was full of everything she wasn’t saying – anger, grief, disappointment, affection tangled together in a way that made Junmo’s chest ache.
She took another breath, a longer one this time – like she was bracing herself for the final admission.
“I said to myself long ago that if you ever truly, sincerely apologized, I would forgive you. So – ”
She turned back to him then. Her eyes were glossy, rimmed red, lashes clumped slightly from blinking back tears – but there was no hesitation in her gaze.
She met his eyes steadily.
“I forgive you, Junmo-ssi. Maybe you should consider doing that for yourself, as well.”
Relief washed through him so suddenly it left him dizzy.
“Thank you,” Junmo whispered.
Hearing her forgiveness to his apology was like a balm that soothed an injury that had been aching for a long while. Now if only his ribs would finally behave and stop screaming…
Junmo gritted his teeth and tried to cautiously shift slightly, so he would find a better position on the couch but all it did was aggravate his injury more. Haeryun stopped his struggling by patting the leg closest to her.
“Put your feet up on the table,” she said, nodding towards the furniture in front of them. “You’ll feel more comfortable.”
Junmo glanced at it, then thought of his dirty, socked feet that he’d been on all day since the beginning of dawn and shook his head no.
“It’s fine –” he started, but Haeryun wasn’t having it. She put the ice pack aside, stood up and simply leant down, grabbing his ankles and placing them on her table. Junmo sank into the cushions more – halfway to lying but still sitting upright, the ache in his ribs easing some as there was less pressure on them.
“There. See?” she asked and she was right. It was comfy. Junmo awkwardly nodded, his head perfectly cushioned by the backrest of the couch. Haeryun handed him the forgotten teacup from the table and grabbed the ice pack from next to him, gesturing at the kitchen.
“Drink that while I get more ice,” she ordered before she left.
Junmo wasn’t really a tea person but what was he supposed to do? He rather did as he was told and took a cautious sip. The tea was now lukewarm at best but it was still surprisingly tasty – not overly floral nor bitter. It was mildly sweet and calming somehow, and Junmo found himself actually finishing it without forcing himself.
Just as he was debating where to put his empty cup without moving, Haeryun returned and took it from him, putting it back on the table. The couch dipped as she sat down beside him again and pressed the ice pack to his ribs back – Junmo gasping at the significantly colder temperature but settling down soon enough, his pain finally starting to ease noticeably. The painkillers also seemed to be taking effect, at last.
He closed his eyes and started the breathing exercises he’d been diligently doing as the doctor suggested – slow, deep breaths in and out as much as he was capable of to prevent his lungs from filling. Haeryun didn’t say a word next to him but it was a companionable silence.
Junmo thought he might have dosed off like that once or twice. His ribs were finally numb, the meds fully kicked in, he was comfortable and it was blessedly quiet; how could he not? Not to mention how tired he felt.
And just when he thought it couldn’t become more cozy, there were fingers sliding into his hair, combing through the strands.
It was literal heaven. She was scratching his scalp and petting him so slowly and gently that it genuinely started to put him to sleep. He couldn’t even care about the reason why Haeryun was even doing it in the first place; all his confusion and thoughts melting away and replaced by pure contentment. Junmo didn’t even dare to open his eyes in case it made her stop; he just continued breathing and enjoying the surprising, soft treatment.
He startled awake when she stopped and peeled the ice-pack off of his skin, then fussed with the gray blanket beside him, trying to unfold it. Could barely stop the whine that was forming in his throat because of how badly he was missing her touch.
“Haeryun-ah?” he asked sleepily, brain sluggish enough to forget to address her respectfully.
“Shh,” she whispered, close, while covering him. The blanket was fluffy, soft and warm on his skin as she tucked it around him. Junmo felt himself slowly slipping into the cozy warmth, eyes closing back again but he was fighting it still. “Go back to sleep.”
“But I need to – m’ bag – the hotel,” Junmo mumbled, barely coherent, frowning. He booked himself a cheap hotel room for his stay, and his stuff was there. Which he didn’t trust not to go missing without him there. He needed to get himself together to leave but he was just…so tired…
His frown was smoothed out with a feather-light touch between his brows. Then the fingers were back in his hair, effectively stopping any thought of moving. “It’ll be fine. Go to sleep, qīn ài de.”
“Haeryun-ah…”
“Shh. Sleep.”
Tired of fighting it, Junmo did just that – the world slipping away from him as his breathing finally evened out.
He thought the soft, barely there kiss on his temple was already a part of his dreams.