Chapter Text
It had only been a little while since Gi-hun had initially moved in, and life had somehow managed to throw another big curve ball at his broke ass - the sudden realisation dawned on him that he didn’t have enough money to rent appropriate attire for the upcoming performance. With a heavy sigh, Gi-hun collapsed back onto his bed, desperately trying to think of how he’d find a way to cope. He could take a loan, perhaps. He pondered on that idea for a moment longer before realising that taking a loan for probably more than he’d be paid was slightly counter-intuitive.
Gi-hun decided to message Jung-bae, who said that he had been saving for a long time during his long years with other orchestras and had held onto enough money to purchase a suit and tails. But before that, he had been hiring from a company that had since gone under. Anyhow, it was a problem for the future because not only was the concert far away, but it was also the weekend. And so therefore not a time to think about work. Or In-ho. Maybe a little time to think about In-ho. But those thoughts were simply about how tiring it was to try and comprehend the man - it was as if two different people were his landlord and boss. At his house he was all full of smiles and rainbows, but the second they crossed into any work territory, it was as if he flicked a switch and suddenly, Gi-hun became his personal slave. It was all busy work - Gi-hun was well aware that there were people whose actual jobs were to do what he was being forced to do, but who was he to argue? He was one argument from being back to his old life, which was just as (if not more) insufferable.
He wandered around the house, very proud to have opened the correct door to the kitchen after only a half-dozen random closets and bathrooms. And as expected, In-ho was seated at the table, with that day’s newspaper curled neatly beside him. He gave Gi-hun a very long and uncomfortable stare before turning his attention back to the coffee in his hand and then saying,
“The concert is coming up soon,”
Gi-hun would hardly call a couple of months ‘soon’, but he found himself curious as to where he was going with that.
“You’re aware of the dress code, right Gi-hun?” He asked innocently, with a slight tilt in his head.
“... mhm.” He nodded, slightly embarrassed to hear his own name coming from him when it wasn’t because he was being berated over a single wrong note.
“Do you have anything to wear?”
Gi-hun silently prayed that In-ho couldn’t read minds or anything; it was a terrifying coincidence that he had been thinking about the same thing he asked about all morning.
“No, but I’ll get onto it as soon as possible… sir?” A consuming silence filled the air upon his awkwardly added 'sir' for a moment before In-ho changed the subject.
“Clear your schedule for the next few hours.”
It was a Sunday, so Gi-hun didn’t really have a schedule to clear. For that matter, he didn’t really have a schedule any day, but In-ho didn’t have to know that.
“Uh, give me a moment.” He looked foolishly down at his phone for a couple of seconds, enjoying the company of the weather app, before looking up and nodding.
After a few moments, Gi-hun found himself being escorted into yet another new room, relatively dark given the lack of windows, but almost made up for it with the glaring yellow lights. In-ho seemingly sent another message on his phone before he flicked his eyes up to Gi-hun and took a few strides towards him. Instinctively, Gi-hun stepped backward tentatively, unsure of how that man was able to goad him purely by his proximity. Even still, he couldn’t look away as In-ho gradually got closer.
“Take your shirt off.”
Gi-hun’s breath caught as he averted his eyes, painfully aware he couldn’t control his face from flushing scarlet.
“W-what?” He stuttered, glued to the spot.
“I said, ‘Take your shirt off’,” In-ho repeated, playing with the neck of Gi-hun’s shirt while simpering up at him.
He desperately tried to respond, but could think of nothing other than how close they were.
“I need to get you measured accurately so we can get you a suit for the concert.” He removed his hand and allowed it a place on Gi-hun’s forehead,
“Hmm, are you alright?” His smile subtly descended into slight malice, “You look a little red… are you feeling ill?”
Gi-hun responded with a string of incoherent noises, mind very much somewhere else completely.
“I’ll get a nurse to check on you when you're done here.” In-ho offered calmly, which Gi-hun would probably recognise as an empty promise if he weren’t so occupied by other thoughts. In-ho began to reach for Gi-hun again, but paused when they were thankfully joined by another person in the room. Gi-hun finally mustered up the courage to look back at In-ho while he dealt with the newcomer, ashamed of where his mind had just been. But luckily for him, his conductor left him to be measured and fitted by the stranger.
“Jung-bae. Help.” Gi-hun whispered into his phone as he plopped himself into his bed.
“... Gi-hun? Why the hell are you calling this late?”
“In-ho is mental. Like, not there in the head.”
“You woke me to discuss this - again?”
“Why couldn’t you just let me move in with you?” He somewhat groaned into the phone, irritated that his friend lacked the empathy he was seeking.
“I’ve already told you man, things are hard now that my wife left me and I don’t think I could support another cheapskate other than myself.”
Gi-hun hardly suppressed his sigh. He only paused for a mere second before folding and quickly adding,
“I guess I don’t really have another choice.”
“You don’t sound too sad about that.” Jung-bae yawned.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gi-hun asked hurriedly at the phone, fully aware that he had already hung up.
The next morning, Gi-hun woke early without the help of an alarm - he’d already become accustomed to the new routine despite having only been doing it for about a week. He got changed with a slight haste and decided against eating breakfast with In-ho and rather opted for getting a headstart on the walk ahead. Gi-hun knew it was somewhat childish to refuse to be anywhere near him after such a trivial incident, but so be it, acting childish it was. He shuddered, fearing what would become of his sanity if he had to talk to him - it was all way too embarrassing. Which just so happened to be yet another part of it that Gi-hun despised. Why was it embarrassing?
Gi-hun arrived at the concert hall at around 7:45, having had a quick breakfast at a cafe nearby and a refreshing break from the stuffiness of the indoors. He was drifting aimlessly through the corridors when he bumped into the two cellists he had pointed out to Jung-Bae a little while back. He checked his watch. There was still time before he had to meet In-ho on the stage.
“Um, hi.” He extended his hand with a smile and was met by a loose handshake from the shorter of the two. “I’m Seong Gi-hun - one of the violinists in your orchestra.”
“Hello, mister.” She said, almost hysterical to the point where he couldn’t tell if she was being sincere, “My name’s Ji-yeong, and this is my-” She turned to get affirmation from the lady behind her, who did the opposite and shook her head subtly, “- very close friend, Kang Sae-Byeok.”
Gi-hun gave a warm smile, which faltered slightly upon seeing her deadpan face not even consider reciprocating the gesture. Feeling suddenly out of place, he decided that he would walk away awkwardly and try to converse again some other time (probably with the help of Jung-bae). After doing this, he checked his watch again, only for it to have barely changed at all. With a heavy sigh, Gi-hun decided that he could head over onto the stage a little bit earlier.
In-ho looked mad. Not even his well-constructed mask of a face could hide the complete lack of impatience seeping through the cracks. However, instead of expressing this irritation, he did what Gi-hun would describe as ‘childish’ and decided to make Gi-hun’s morning hell. Again. Apparently, for some reason, the chairs and stands all needed to be moved a grand total of 10cm sideways because they ‘weren’t centered’, but perhaps 10cm was too far, and they should be moved back ‘in case it caused a disturbance’. Or maybe the sheet music had all been mixed into one stack and had to be dispersed again to the correct desks. Gi-hun knew the state the music was left in after the last rehearsal, and he could confidently confirm that this was not it. And all the while, as he was frantically running around the stage like a madman, In-ho sat calmly and watched with a damned smile on his face. Quite possibly the worst part of all of this meaningless work was the fact that it made In-ho so weirdly happy.
During the rehearsal, Gi-hun kept his eyes glued to his sheet music. He told himself it was because he didn’t want to look at the demonic man standing a few metres in front of him, but there was also an aspect of him still having no idea what was going on. As time went on, Gi-hun learnt to ignore the feeling of In-ho’s eyes scathing holes in him as he addressed the whole orchestra numerous times to ‘keep your eyes on the conductor’. The pointed attention continued to make his face burn with embarrassment, and he couldn’t bring himself to look up from his lap. But this wasn’t to say that he never made eye contact with In-ho. Sometimes, if he was feeling particularly brave, he’d glance over at him. He always intended to look for just a couple seconds at most, but his eyes would betray him and become entwined by In-ho’s own dizzying, deep glare. He became helpless for a moment, forgetting how to breathe. And even worse? It undeniably made some part of him sickly excited.
Later that night, Gi-hun lay staring at the ceiling of his room, thinking desperately about how the contract of a month’s residence at In-ho’s estate was seemingly lasting forever, and Gi-hun couldn’t help but wonder what would happen when this period did end. Ultimately, he had been a pretty terrible roommate, with all the avoiding and terrible punctuality. He honestly wouldn’t be surprised if In-ho kicked him out, but he wasn’t sure if that would be a relief or more stress. With a sigh, he looked over at the violin sitting in the corner of his room. Practicing always made him happy, and now that it was his job, he decided he’d allocate a lot more time to it. After he unpacked, he turned his desk and violin case into a makeshift music stand, balancing the printed sheets carefully into a precarious structure. He warmed up for a few minutes before moving into the more complex music, completely losing track of time and, for that matter, his surroundings. That’s why, as he stopped playing for a moment, he could hear the shifting of material in time with someone’s breathing coming from behind him. And as if the universe was asking for drama, it was the one person Gi-hun really did not want to see.
“In-ho.” Gi-hun’s voice died in his throat as he placed his violin down.
“I saw you practicing and decided to stop by. Is that… alright?”
Gi-hun titled his head slightly. “What do you mean by ‘see’? This building is huge, and the only window in this room is to the outside.”
In-ho stayed silent, very obviously trying to fabricate a believable lie, but lucky for him, Gi-hun was completely oblivious, instead choosing to focus on the floor in front of him out of embarrassment. After another awkward moment, his conductor finally responded, “One of the guards, you know, the ones in the suits told me that you were practicing and I believe that I meant to say ‘I saw that you were practicing’. So no, I didn’t see you physically practicing.”
In-ho paused his ramblings and nodded at the contraption that Gi-hun had set up to hold his music, desperate to change the subject. “You want a music stand? I can buy you one.”
“Oh. Uh, that’s okay.” He waved his hand dismissively, wishing or praying or doing whatever the hell he needed to make In-ho leave him to practice.
“Why don’t you play for me?” the devil of a man asked with a smile in his eyes and nowhere else. And to say that Gi-hun hated that idea would be an understatement. After he mumbled a few poorly constructed excuses, In-ho cut him off,
“Let me rephrase that - play for me.” his voice became firm, and Gi-hun felt in no position to argue with the authority his tone suggested.
With a hesitant breath, he began to bow the strings of his violin, trying hard to ignore the eyes drilling into him and the shake in his arm it brought about. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get his fingers under control as they continued over and over to mess up the notes. Each time, he risked a glance at his (technical) roommate, who had a smirk on his face as if he knew the reason why Gi-hun was struggling. It wasn’t like the reason was anything sinister; Gi-hun knew well it was because he was playing before his boss. Which, he reasoned, made perfect sense due to how he wasn’t having any issues with performance anxiety recently. And also how the last time his bow had shaken like that was many years ago as a young boy. Yeah, it was because he was nervous.
He wrapped up the piece with a grit of his teeth upon hearing the lacking intonation. Gi-hun felt his face burn - this was the first time he had played solo in front of him (except possibly the audition for their orchestra, but given the anonymity of the whole event, he doubted anyone could have connected his playing back to himself). Using the last of his dignity, he looked over at In-ho, who still had yet learnt to control his stupid, smug face.
“That was very interesting. Thank you.” He smirked, disappearing swiftly into the hallway. Just as soon as Gi-hun could confirm that he was gone, he collapsed onto his bed, violin back in the case, his hands covering his face. No matter how logically he tried to think about it, he didn’t understand how he had let himself get so anxious over something so trivial. Some people like Jung-bae would try and convince him that it was because he cared for In-ho’s opinion. But if anything, the whole experience had just allowed his distaste for In-ho to grow far stronger. Gi-hun was going to make that man regret whatever the hell it was that he was doing to him.