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Ga-on ran after Kang Yo-han. If Yo-han made it out of the building, who knew what escape routes he’d planned? Just before the door, Ga-on caught up with him, grabbing his arm. He couldn’t force Yo-han to stay, but --
“You clearly want to see me, so why are you still running away?”
Yo-han glanced down at Ga-on’s hand before saying, “It would hardly be wise for a dead man to be seen here. And it would be a bit harder to deny who I am since you, of all people, shouted my name out for everyone to hear.”
Ga-on flushed. Amazingly, no one was paying attention to them, but it only took one person to notice Ga-on, the hero of the nation, and then notice who he was holding on to.
“Just -- call me. From time to time. So I know you’re okay.”
Yo-han patted Ga-on’s hand, his touch as warm as Ga-on remembered (he was alive, he was really alive), and then pushed Ga-on’s hand off, that frustrating smile on his face that didn’t give anything away.
Ga-on stood there for a long while, watching Yo-han until he was completely out of sight. He didn’t know if this had been the best goodbye Yo-han could offer him, or if this meant he had been forgiven, finally.
***
When Ga-on was young, he believed if he worked hard enough, learned how to follow the rules closely enough, he would be able to bring about positive change in the world. That he could create justice for others who had suffered like he had.
When he was older -- when he met Kang Yo-han -- he started to believe that if a single person burned enough, nursed their vengeance enough, they could bring the whole system down with them, and bring justice back to the nation.
Now Ga-on believed neither of those things, pretty stories though they’d been. One person can’t do anything against the tides of human nature. One person was a speck of sand easily washed back out to sea.
***
Ga-on had barely gotten in the door when his phone rang. It was a number he didn’t recognize, but he’d gotten in the habit of picking up for all unknown callers, to the thrill of telemarketers around the country.
“You should really consider changing your phone number,” Kang Yo-han said by way of greeting.
Ga-on dropped his bag where he stood, sagging against the wall in relief. He’d started to think that maybe -- maybe it really had been a goodbye after all.
“How would you get a hold of me then?” he managed to say.
He could practically hear Yo-han smirking through the phone.
Ga-on huffed out a laugh and said, “Just -- don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”
Silence fell and Ga-on wondered if that was going to be it. It wasn’t enough. It had to be enough.
“I saw your proposal for rotating the judges throughout the country,” Yo-han said finally, and Ga-on released the breath he’d been holding.
“And?”
“And nothing.”
“Kang Yo-han has no opinions?” Something Ga-on knew to be utterly impossible.
“It’s your problem now,” Yo-han said lightly, like it was truly of no concern to him.
“Right. Thanks.”
Ga-on sat on the floor looking at his phone for a long time afterwards.
***
His house was all he had left of his parents. Was somewhere he could see Soo-hyun around each corner, if he wished. But Ga-on couldn’t help but wonder, now, if his house was any less of a prison than Yo-han’s had been. Was wallowing in his memories any healthier just because those memories were happy?
Since Yo-han had left with Elijah, though, all he had left for companions were the ghosts in this house. So healthy or not, here he would continue to stay.
***
Ga-on had just sat down to eat his exceptionally late dinner when Yo-han called.
“You need to do a better job of getting the public on your side about this.”
“I thought you said it was my problem.” Ga-on pushed around the food on his plate like it was the person criticizing him.
“I also said if you don’t do a good job I’ll be back.”
Maybe that’s what I want, Ga-on didn’t say.
***
The first anniversary of his parents death had snuck up on him. He’d spent the whole year trying to throw away his own life, so he hadn’t exactly been keeping a close eye on a calendar. It wasn’t until Soo-hyun showed up, dressed in black and with a picnic basket full of his parents favorite food, that Ga-on realized how much time had passed.
He was older now, though, and his life was full of meetings and trial dates and interviews, so he was almost hyper aware of the date at all times. He spent the entire year with a countdown running in his head. One day without Soo-hyun. One week without Soo-hyun. One month without Soo-hyun.
The first anniversary of her death Ga-on spent the entire day on his patio, like if he waited long enough Soo-hyun would eventually swing by and scold him for skipping work. He would have gone to visit her at the cemetery, but he knew her parents would be there, and didn’t want to intrude when he knew they still (justifiably) blamed him.
It was okay, though. He’d bought as much alcohol as he could carry the night before, and as night fell he remembered he still had one contact in his phone that he could call.
“Ga-on?”
“Come have a drink with me, Kang Yo-han,” he said, staring up at the handful of stars he could make out in the sky. Sometimes it felt like Yo-han might as well be up there. He felt as far away.
“Is that what you actually called to say?” Ga-on didn’t care for the patience in Yo-han’s voice, like he was babying Ga-on.
“Is that what you actually want to know?” Ga-on snapped. “Or did you really mean you didn’t want to hear from me today?”
“Kim Ga-on,” Yo-han warned.
“I called to hear your voice, old man. That’s all.” Could Yo-han hear what he really meant? I miss you, I miss you, I miss you.
“You should drink some water, if you’re that far gone.”
“I appreciate your concern.”
“Good. Not many people have it.” Ga-on heard the small pause between “Good” and the rest, and was sure Yo-han had done the mental math then of how drunk he thought Ga-on was and how likely he was to remember it later.
He had miscalculated.
“Good night, Yo-han.”
***
Ga-on was the type of person who enjoyed good health 99.9% of the time. “Too stubborn to get sick,” Soo-hyun had teased him more than once. So when he woke up with a splitting headache and a fever, he didn’t have any non-expired medicine in the house to take. The fruitless search for some left him exhausted and feeling worse than when he started. He had just enough energy left to email and say he wouldn’t be able to make it to work today, thanks in advance for rescheduling everything, before he crawled back into bed and passed out.
His dreams flitted between different vignettes. His mother patting his head softly, telling him he was being such a good boy for managing to take a bite. Soo-hyun pressing a cold compress against his forehead and telling him he should be more careful, didn’t he know there was a plague happening. Kang Yo-han lingering outside a doorway asking if maybe he’d like another blanket. He woke up now and then, maybe, but the line between sleep and reality got a bit fuzzy. Was that really his phone? Or was it a phone inside his head? He thought he should pick up, just in case.
“Kim Ga-on, why aren’t you answering your phone?”
“Mm?”
“Ga-on, what’s going on?”
“Ugh, don’t talk so loud.”
“Ga-on?”
“I’ll be better tomorrow. G’night, Yo-han.”
***
When Ga-on woke up he had an IV in his arm and the bed was wrong -- actually, the entire room was wrong. And Elijah was there. Which wasn’t possible. Therefore either he’d somehow been whisked away in the night, or this was still a dream.
The issue was he was pretty sure it was the former.
“Kang Yo-han,” he muttered under his breath.
Elijah looked up from the book she’d been reading, a huge smile taking over her face for a brief moment, before her expression soured.
“How could you let yourself get sick?” she demanded, wheeling herself closer to the bed.
“Sorry?” Ga-on sat up slowly, taking in every inch of Elijah. She was wearing a bright yellow dress, and her legs looked stronger. She almost looked like a normal teenager, rather than a vengeful ghost haunting something, so in spite of her anger, Ga-on couldn’t help but smile.
“You should be. How dare you get sick when there’s no one there to take care of you?” Elijah scolded him.
“I’ll remember that for next time. Cross my heart,” Ga-on said, making the gesture across his chest.
“There won’t be a next time,” she said ominously. She seemed like she wanted to grab onto him, her hands gripping onto her book too tightly, but she held herself back.
“I’m fine,” he assured her. “Really. My headache’s gone and everything.”
“Good,” she said.
“I’m really glad to see you again, Elijah,” Ga-on said, reaching out to take her hand. A small smile curved up the corners of her lips, and oh she looked like Yo-han so much like that.
“I missed you, Ga-on,” she said, her voice small and a little wobbly.
“I missed you, too,” he said gently. “Now, where am I, exactly?”
***
It was as though Kang Yo-han had purchased himself a visual metaphor of his life. The difference between their mansion in Korea versus their mansion in Switzerland was quite literally night and day. Where their home in Korea had been dimly lit and claustrophobic in its decor, their home here was spacious and modern. Daylight streamed in through enormous skylights, and the hallways seemed wide and open.
The one thing both mansions had in common was how hard it was to find the master of the house. Ga-on only managed to find Yo-han the next day because Elijah gestured dramatically towards a library on a stroll through the house.
If Yo-han was surprised to see Ga-on, it didn’t show on his face.
“You clearly want to see me, so why are you avoiding me?” Ga-on asked, walking straight over to him. If it was anyone else, he would have stood further away, after not seeing them for so long. But he had a feeling that if Yo-han saw an exit, he might take it. Look at me, Yo-han. Look at only me.
“I'm busy,” Yo-han said, side-stepping the question.
“Doing what? You’re retired.” Ga-on could see the irritation flash briefly in Yo-han’s eyes at that.
“What about you? You don’t seem too concerned about being here.” Yo-han turned the conversion on a dime, always having to be on the offense. “Nothing you want to say to me about the manner of how you arrived?”
“Why, do you want me to leave?” Ga-on challenged.
“That’s not what I said,” Yo-han said sharply.
“If you’re worried about the work I’ve left behind, don’t worry. Things can run without me for a few days.”
“Do you think I left you there as a punishment? You’re acting like you’re fulfilling a sentence I passed on you.”
Ga-on said nothing.
“Is that really what you think?” Yo-han demanded.
“As penance,” Ga-on corrected. “Not punishment.”
“Get out, Kim Ga-on.”
There was a part of Ga-on that wanted to give in. To let Yo-han continue to push him away. It was almost a habit. But he’d had a whole year to learn to break it.
“No,” he said. “I’m tired of you getting to make all the decisions.”
“Kim Ga-on-” And Ga-on felt just a small amount of satisfaction at being the cause of Yo-han’s frustration. How many people managed to get a genuine reaction out of him like this?
“I spent so much time trying to figure out why,” Ga-on said, refusing to look away no matter what expression Yo-han wore. “Why did you leave me behind like that? Why didn’t you even say goodbye? Why did you just show up like that? Why keep calling me, just to say basically nothing?
“For a long time, yes, I did think it was because I betrayed you. Because you couldn’t trust me. Because maybe I had been a stand in for your brother and I couldn’t live up to that expectation. And don’t pretend that wasn’t part of it. You let me think you were dead. Twice. Of course you were punishing me.
“But that didn’t explain why you still kept in contact with me. And seeing you again, here, I think I’ve finally figured it out. You just don’t get it. You don’t get what you mean to me.
“You’re my family, whether you like it or not.”
Ga-on had seen Yo-han in all kinds of situations -- caught him being soft while he looked at Elijah, seen him cold and ruthless when taking down his enemies, seen him desperate and afraid when cornered. This was the first time he’d ever seen Yo-han look like this, his mouth slightly open in shock, caught off guard in a good way for once.
“Now I’ll get out. Sir.”
Ga-on walked out of the room, whistling a cheery little tune.
***
When Ga-on awoke the next morning, Yo-han was standing at the window, sipping a coffee.
“There’s one on the nightstand for you, if you want it,” Yo-han said without turning around.
“How long have you been there?” Ga-on asked, not moving yet. He wanted to take in the sight of Yo-han bathed in the morning light, just a little longer.
“Not long.”
For a while, the two stayed like that, the quiet between them full of anticipation, but in a hushed and slow way things are when the day has barely begun. Eventually, Yo-han turned around and came to sit on the edge of the bed, still not facing Ga-on.
Ga-on took the offered coffee, finally, and took a sip, waiting for Yo-han to begin.
“I can’t say I’ve lived my life entirely without warmth, since there have been a few who tried their best to feel affection towards me,” Yo-han said. “But I’ve never managed to find understanding. Not even from my brother.”
Yo-han tapped the side of his mug, once, twice, three times. Then he turned enough to look Ga-on squarely in the eyes.
“That was quite the declaration of love.”
“So you understood,” Ga-on said, a strange sense of peace settling into his chest. Like a knot had unwound without him even knowing it was there.
“Enough,” Yo-han said, the twist of his mouth mocking himself more than Ga-on. “You keep surprising me, though, when people rarely do.
“Maybe that’s why I love you. I wasn’t expecting to find a new person I would let the world burn for.”
“Is that enough for you to ask me to stay this time?” Ga-on reached out, tugging one of Yo-han’s hands away from his cup.
“I won’t force you to do anything, anymore,” Yo-han said, more to Ga-on’s hand than anything.
“Tell me what you want,” Ga-on said. “Please.”
“Stay,” Yo-han breathed. “Stay with me.”
“Okay,” Ga-on said, gently, oh so gently. “I’ll stay.”
***
“What, did you get bored of trying to save the world?” Elijah asked, when Ga-on shared the news over dinner that night.
Like uncle, like niece, Ga-on thought fondly.
“My whole world is right here,” Ga-on said. Yo-han choked on the bite of rice he’d just put in his mouth.
Ga-on patted his leg under the table, and Yo-han slipped his hand into Ga-on’s, holding it tight for the rest of the meal.
++ Postscript ++
As soon as Ga-on entered the room, Yo-han slammed him against the wall.
“I hope you haven’t forgotten what kind of person I am,” Yo-han practically purred. That was the only warning Ga-on got before Yo-han closed the remaining inch between them and kissed him like he was trying to devour Ga-on.
For a few moments, Ga-on’s world narrowed down to Yo-han’s lips against his, Yo-han’s leg between his, Yo-han’s body pressed tight against his. It was a feeling Ga-on could get lost in, if he let himself.
But as he smiled, Yo-han hesitated, just for a moment, and that was all the opening Ga-on needed. He pushed Yo-han forward, just enough, and in a second flipped them so Yo-han was the one pressed against the wall.
“Let me take care of you,” he murmured, as he placed delicate kisses up Yo-han’s neck. The hitch in Yo-han’s breath then was exquisite and Ga-on thought, oh, this is what one person can accomplish.
He wanted to spend the rest of his life chasing that noise, a thing sweeter than any taste of justice he’d ever had.