Work Text:
The day Jihun’s mother found a gun in the house, was also the day he lost the privilege of living in the same house as his father.
He was eight years old and unsuspecting, lost in deep sleep he had finally acquired after hours too many of tossing and turning in the bed which was too big for his then small body. He jolted awake after hearing a scream from the living room and looked around searching for any impending danger which could cause him immediate harm. Turns out, it came out of his mother who rushed inside his room soon in fraught silence. His father followed her in hesitantly and took hold of her arm gently, a gesture which was not appreciated by her as she harshly shrugged him off. She had urged him to get out of bed at one something in late night much to his confusion because never in his relatively short life has he seen the world after ten pm.
No matter how much he requested, cried and banged his little fists onto the dining table, he had to brush his teeth and lay back in the cold bed. Just like when he couldn’t convince his mother to let him stay up late for the reruns of his favorite show, he was helpless when he was dragged out of their house and put inside his mother’s car as his father tried telling him they’ll see each other again soon. He looked upset and his mother was furious, that was enough for Jihun to break into tears.
As it turns out, he was taken away to his grandmothers regardless of his father’s dedication to turn things back the way they were and Jihun’s relentless and desperate begging. He grew up without knowing why his mother stayed away, even though she never hated his father and why everything changed one night. His parents never had a divorce; in fact they went on dinners and visited amusement parks with Jihun just like any other couple with a child. But whenever Jihun asked his mother about their old house and how empty it must have been for his father without them, his mother smiled grimly and never spoke another word. As it turns out, he grew up. Between dwindling questions and not having his father visit in school events, he grew up.
Fate is an odd little thing, Jihun thinks when he enters his apartment. Crimson paints the end of his shirts handcuffs and his nails glow in pink patterns under the fluorescent light of his posh apartment. He only comes here when he needs to hide, it is not his house. His home is where his mother and grandparents live, where he sleeps and eats when he isn’t running away from a murder he just committed. A murder he had been paid to commit, a murder he will be applauded for. They also call it assassination in fancy terms, after all everyone he kills is either famous or rich and in most cases, both.
He wonders if he should call his team but decides to wait a little, he had escaped first there’s no way he could pull it off alone, too many unexpected variables not many constants except him and his little team. They operated on foot, spare the hot shot front page clicks of mysterious men in suits sprawling across the city and diesel burning on highways. Fate is an odd little thing, he had thought when men geared in suits and stern faces showed up in his house one day when he was almost finishing high school to inform them his father had passed. He was caught in between crossfire and could not make it out alive. And so everything his mother kept him hidden from caught up with them the same way a dog runs after a fetch item. The more you throw, the less time it takes for it to bring it back to you. Again and again and again.
Jihun had only heard of guns, he knew his mother was terrified of them and took her child far away from it the moment she knew of its existence and vicinity. She did not want her son to grow up in a house where bloodstains are removed from work clothes and scheming for ending lives took place. Naturally, Jihun had to learn about it.
His phone vibrates in his front pocket, and Heejuns name comes up on the screen. Before he was standing in his apartment painted in blood that wasn’t his, he was assisting an important mission. One that had nothing and everything to do with the disappearance of a civilian named Park Seoham.
Seoham was a normal college going boy who worked part time in the library, doing what one would expect from a job in a library. Except, he did something more than just filing book issues and putting them back in their respective places in the shelves. He was also an informant, an observer with a keen eye hidden in plain sight. Well, not so hidden now as Heejun murmurs in quick hushed tones that Seoham had been taken from outside of the library earlier that day because he was suspected to have leaked information.
He was not just a suspect, Seoham had personally told them about the whereabouts of the man Jihun had murdered in cold blood earlier. It was their thing, Seoham being too kind to hurt a person but not naïve enough to think he will never be exempt from the odd face of reality. He may never be a Kingsman in gear but he held their values like following a religion.
“So what do you want me to do now? I just got back.” Jihun asked dismissingly, putting the phone on loudspeaker and tossing it lightly on the couch.
“Are you fucking kidding me right now? Jihun I know you don’t care much for any of us but Seoham is not one of us. He is our friend. A civilian, may I add.” Heejun replied with a strain his voice, like he was about to cry.
“He knew the risks before taking the job.” He realized how he sounded after the words left his tongue, like bitter cotton candy dissolving and coating his throat.
“I cannot believe you. We will get him, with or without you. Fucking bastard.” He heard a voice which vaguely sounded like Inseong curse aggressively in the background before the line went dead.
Well, then.
How he joined the secret service is a story he found anti-climatic but hilarious. After learning his father was out killing people and sneaking sensitive data for his employers instead of dropping Jihun off to basketball practice or a friend’s birthday party, he felt relieved. His mother wouldn’t tell him where his father was, she wouldn’t even talk to him if it wasn’t to yell at him.
He did not agree with the notion that young boys needed fathers as role models to grow up well but his mother wasn’t raising him. There was abundant food, a roof above his head and a school he could spend seven hours of his day in. She was a successful lady, well respected and liked. But she was also frustrated and angry, a lot of which was misplaced. Jihun does not like complaining but he wished he was brought up like a human being, with attention and love. Not like he was doing horribly as an adult, but he does not know how to deal with people, how to address emotions and frankly he did not want to try it anymore. Instead of spending time staring at walls and outside the window at the entry gates, the possibility of doing something else just made him let out a giggle he wasn’t sure was satirical.
He felt relieved that the reason his father stayed away was not him. He just had a notorious job and did not tell his wife about it. Much to his amusement, he had better memories with his father than with his ever present mother. That old man put his all when he had his son with him, swings and paper boats, hot chocolate and pizza, shiny shoes and latest toy collections. And, most importantly he talked to Jihun like he wasn’t difficult to be around.
And so when they told him his old man had passed, Jihun joined the service to honor him. But he did not hide his job description from his only mother because he figured she’d had enough of all this. He was also not stupid enough to think his father’s job was any sort of cool or something that would impress people. Not like he could tell them what he did for a living anyway. He was not ashamed; he just had no idea what else he could possibly do. Anything he could gather and encompass of his father in his human body, he filled the gaps of his existence with it and sealed it tight.
And because his father had treated Jihun like a human being and stayed with him when he was needed, Jihun dialed Dongwon’s number as he figured Heejun was already on the move and asked him the coordinates of the warehouse where they kept Park Seoham. And then, he was gone leaving the apartment smelling of cologne that was not his.
Heejun thought to himself that his disguise was excellent, he was sitting adjacent to the table where a poker game was being played. His expensive gold chain sat heavy around his neck and his cigarette was of the finest quality. He insisted on sharing them with the other occupants of the table. They were taught that the emphasis should be on details, it was the small things that mattered.
The warehouse was not as dingy as they had expected. It had around six tables inside and almost all of them were occupied, with pricey alcohol and even colored powders found place on the table top. They were all men, who looked vicious with a liberal sense of use of weapons. If they were concerned with drug cartels and shipments, probably many of them would mean something to the agents. But Kingsmen had no ties with the government (Heejun knows a lie when he hears one) and they only operated on contracts by private clients.
He was grateful it was drug cartel and not a sex ring this time, he hated them the most. The feeling of people touching him with no innocent intentions whatsoever made him retch internally. However, there is a thin line between the two and he has already swatted enough hands creeping on his thighs away. But mostly, he was terrified for Seoham who was lying on a supply batch of cocaine, hands tied in the back and mind slipping in and out of consciousness. Free ride to high town.
Inseong was doing better than Heejun was, he may even be enjoying the game he appears to be invested in. But that’s just Inseong, he won’t panic until there’s something really about to go wrong. Which is like, now and his nonchalance was scary.
Heejun and Inseong were relatively new to the job, they were getaways and lookouts not proper field agents. Jihun had been working the longest with Kingsmen, he has also proved to be unhelpful given the series of recent events so unless he changed his mind and was on his way to the warehouse with ten minutes ETA tops, they were most probably not making it out uninjured or alive. Damn Jihun, it wouldn’t take so long if he had tagged along. He was better at all this.
Dongwon continued to whisper in his ear, occasionally threatening to spill tears because this was a huge detour from their agenda for tonight. Their job was finished when Jihun walked out of the backdoors of that office building, looking like he had taken his time walking under a drizzle of red rain but as complications come with each mission, nobody expected Seoham to be abducted from his job.
The abductors went into frenzy after their boss was murdered, so they found the first person who had any knowledge to carry out the assassination and got Seoham firsthand. Heejun only knew his friend was the hostage now, they were waiting for someone to show up for him. And if no one arrived, Seoham was as good as cooked broccoli. And Heejun was really bad at poker.
He and Inseong were excellent shooters but they were heavily outnumbered. His in ears were going off and he found it difficult to concentrate on Dongwons words with panic flowing in his veins, he just needed Seoham to be out of the way and safe.
“Are you listening to me? Heejun! Inseong! Jihun is on his way with Youjin, just hold on for a while please. Do not do anything suspicious he’ll be there in less than five minutes.” Well, five minutes is too much.
The man opposite to him was eyeing him suspiciously, so he leaned forward and put on his best convincing face. He was just there for some booze, a good game of poker and money from shipments. He was just like them. He took a cigarette off his pack and offered it to the man with a sly smile. The air around the whole table stilled as they waited with baited breaths for the man to take his end of the stick. An important person then, Heejun could work with that.
Luckily, his act was bought and the man accepted the cigarette with a smile. And that’s how the final person on Heejuns table became victim to the little trick he had infused in the cigarette. In a few minutes now, they will fall like dominoes. All if left is for Inseong to do the same.
But while Heejun silently basked in the glory of his miniscule success, a patron from Inseong’s table leaped to his feet and grabbed Inseong. The game was left half done and glass shards scattered the floor alerting the other tables. They were soon surrounded after that. Heejun does not remember who threw the first hit but he recalled being dragged out and frisked, a little too aggressively for his liking and then something hitting his right temple. It was foolish to come without back up, and how he hoped Jihun did not make the same mistake. Inseong wasn’t faring particularly better than him, having stabbed two men already and a limp to go with it. The men he had poisoned starting dropping dead not long after he was half mauled, he had heard enough of variations of motherfucker, whore and bastard bitch to last him a lifetime.
There were still too many men to finish off and as one of them starting dragging Heejun by his legs through the uneven course surface of the warehouse; he was made aware of the trails of his blood gushing from his head and hazy visions of Inseong fighting off three men at once. Five goons alive versus two amateur agents did not seem like a fair deal but at least Seoham was spared. Hopefully.
The next minute were Heejun and his barely present comprehension witnessing the entrance of the warehouse being kicked down, and Jihun entering with Youjin in tow. They were dressed in the midnight black squad uniforms, Jihun’s Koch 416 which Heejun remembered cleaning for the elder was in his hands as they filled the warehouse like ants inside their anthills. Exactly sounds of five shots fired impersonating one another, no more and no less. Getting beaten up was not worth it, Heejun thought before pushing the dead goon off his body.
Sitting inside a van with Youjin was an experience that called for hardcore teeth clenching, the man does not talk and does not find pleasure in replying to Jihun. Great, Heejuns big mouth had told everyone he had refused to help first.
That was an exaggeration, he brought this upon himself.
He had no idea why he decided to make things difficult for them, if he had come to his senses earlier maybe he wouldn’t have to listen to Inseong and Heejun being roughhoused and tolerate his entire team throwing sour glances towards him. And Seoham? What had the poor boy done? His crime was to help them with critical information, Jihun himself needing much of that intel. He fiddled with his fingers all the way towards the target location, the more he tries to be different, the more he becomes a shallow piece of his mother. Uncaring, unrelenting and independent beyond requirements.
He had a team without whom he could not have made it this far and he needed to acknowledge that. His strange detachment will get them killed one day otherwise. The warehouse came into sight as Youjin turned off the ignition and turned to him.
“I don’t care if you don’t care about the boy but you will be the one to get Seoham out. Go straight to him, I don’t think Heejun and Inseong would want you around right now.”
“I will.”
Jihun lowered his head and followed the elder out with his rifle in hand. The superiors never cared about all this, they didn’t care if people remotely connected to the agency had been killed unnecessarily. As long as the field agents returned safely and no law abiding citizen was jeopardized, that was it. Unless they were assigned under the same team, nobody cared about peers and what they decide to do with each other. Obviously, humans are social creatures and Jihun found himself in the middle of Keunakun. They took care if he ate, slept well and stayed with him even though Jihun couldn’t care less.
Seoham wasn’t even an agent, so Heejun couldn’t call official back up even if he wanted to. There was nobody who would respond. All he had was their little team thus, he had called Jihun. Look where it got him.
Jihun did not bother moving towards the two agents on the floor, he had heard the shots being fired and let Youjin take over. The place smelled faintly of concoction of different drugs and undetected substances, as Jihun made his way he held his rifle close to him as a precaution. The storage was falling apart, it was cold and damp. The packs of white were stacked against the wall, one on top of another as if to clear a double layer of protection. In the middle, there was what seemed like a recent batch which was dumped carelessly. On top of that was Seoham.
Not surprisingly he was passed out, but seemed fairly unhurt except for the busted lips and a bruising cheekbone. The said man’s hands were tied in the back and the area around his knees and elbows were scratched and dirty. Jihun moved closer and untied his hands gently, supporting his neck and placing himself under Seoham’s unmoving body. He sat there with Seoham with only both of them consisting of the moment. Jihun wondered why didn’t they ever hang out before then he realized he rarely goes out, it was the rest of his team who drew him out of hibernation.
Seoham was his team too. And Jihun was an ass to have discarded his importance and prominence so easily; he should’ve run out of his apartment the moment Heejun called. He should be there for his team at any time of the day, these were his friends no less. Instead he’s perched on top of substances of influence yet with complete sobriety, contemplating his mistakes and shortcomings with Seoham on his lap like Mary did for her lifeless son in the Pieta.
Jihun quietly treasures the seconds before they are discovered, studying Seohams face and apologizing in his ears even though the other probably can’t hear him right now. He will never be a good agent like his father who died because he pushed his friend out of harm’s way and took the bullets himself. His father did not wallow in the sorrowful remnants of his past or let his arrogance get to his head. Jihun will never be mourned, never be recalled because he had not done anything to deserve that. A man devoid of manner was a man not worth being celebrated.
“Did you wait for too long, Seoham?” Not a soul replied.
When Youjin finds them, Jihun is wrapped around Seoham and lightly caressing him. It is an utterly surprising sight. In the three years of their association, this was a first and it’s regretful that Jihun had such an epiphany so cardinal in the mouth of danger, without the others present as spectators. It was almost strange.
When the paradmedics take Seoham out of Jihuns arms, the sculpture falls apart and he notices Jihuns eyes glisten with what he supposes are unshed tears. Youjin almost feels bad letting it happen.