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Gihun laid on the ground, his limbs strewn about. The man was barely conscious, eyelids trembling as he tried desperately to keep his eyes open. Without lifting his head he looked to the players standing above him. Saebyeok’s face was contorted in a pained expression, and Sangwoo clutched at his bleeding cheek.
The glass bridge from the fifth game had shattered behind them, throwing jagged shards and chunks of debris at them. Gihun, being the last to climb across the dark and seemingly unending pit behind them, took the most of the blow, even making an effort to shuffle aside. This awkward fumble had cost him, he’d somewhat shielded the other two.
There were several significant shards of glass jutting out of Gihun’s stomach and torso. Amongst the ret dots where smaller pieces had made contact with his skin, there were three deeper wounds. One, a longer glass piece that had speared Gihun under his belly button, another, a thicker piece stuck deep within the skin just left of his sternum. The worrisome one was a shard that struck centimeters away from his heart.
Gihun gave a pained and shallow breath, one of his hands slowly reaching up to grab at his abdomen. With every inhale and exhale the glass that pierced him sent waves of pain through him, despite the constant screaming of his nerves that something was wrong, something was going terribly wrong.
He went to try and remove the piece beside his heart, but a hand quickly stopped him. Gihun was able to visualize Sangwoo’s face through the haze.
“Hyung, hyung, don’t,” he began, kneeling aside Gihun on the floor. “Let me do it. If you hit an artery, you’ll surely die. Please allow me.” If Gihun knew one thing about Sangwoo, it was that Sangwoo was unfortunately skilled in the practice of bottling emotions. Externally, the younger man was stern, unfeeling, but Gihun knew inside his chest his heart was hammering away like it would explode at any given moment.
Gihun could only nod, mouth agape as Sangwoo gently took hold of one of the shards. He felt the shard move slightly, and before he could even cry out, Saebyeok was shoving a ripped piece of her shirt into his mouth.
“Bite down,” she said simply.
The shards were removed as quickly as Sangwoo could muster, he knew it was best to just rip off the bandaid quickly. Each removal resulted in an echoing, anguished cry that ripped itself from Gihun’s throat unconsciously.
His pain was far from over, the damage had been done, but god, it was so much better with the glass taken out. It had been poking and prodding at him, still doing more damage as it remained inside.
Gihun’s vision was getting more blurry, it felt like there was cotton in his now-ringing ears. He was about to faint. He wasn’t unfamiliar with the feeling, he’d had blood work done before. But this wasn't blood work. This was Squid Game and this was Cho Sangwoo and this was Kang Saebyeok. He wasn’t in some little clinic wondering if the girl he’d had a one night stand with had given him HIV, he was on the floor covered in glass and his own blood. He coughed. Something came up and by the reactions of the two above him, Gihun guessed it was blood.
“Don’t go to sleep, hyung! Don’t close your eyes!” Sangwoo called, patting Gihun’s cheek. There was something in his voice Gihun had never heard before, something he couldn’t exactly place in his distressed stage and muggled mind. It was like being given a flavored soda, and knowing the soda, but having no clue what flavor it was. Cherry? Strawberry? That purple mixture of chemicals labelled as grape, that doesn’t actually taste like grape?
Gihun’s lips were going white. “Can’t… help it,” he muttered before his eyes rolled back and he involuntarily lost consciousness. He sagged back onto the floor, body unmoving and completely limp.
Gihun was surprised he woke up. He wasn’t supposed to wake up. When his eyes closed last he’d silently resigned himself to death, he knew this was it. But, dear god, here he was.
His eyes slowly opened, his breathing shallow and raspy. It still felt like there was something heavy in his lungs, something foreign and unwelcome. He could barely see anything, only swirling shapes and the little bit of light that was in the room. Room… he must have been taken back to the dormitory room.
The man simply laid, sitting like a computer that was taking a long while to turn on. The hypothetical cotton was taken from his ears, and he heard some voices. It took a few moments for the words to start processing, but Gihun was able to label Sangwoo and Saebyeok’s hushed muttering.
“So what do we do with him?” Sangwoo offered, sounding artificially calm.
“We can’t just kill him,” Saebyeok replied, a morsel of panic in her voice.
Sangwoo gave a sigh. “I wouldn’t be able to anyways,” he admitted dejectedly.
“What makes him special? I mean, Ali-” Saebyeok started.
Sangwoo quickly cut her off. “He’s different. He’s from before the games. Before everything. How am I supposed to kill someone that came to my birthday parties, who copied off my tests in school, who gave me his jacket when it was cold despite his cheeks being bright red?” He was ranting now, and Gihun’s eyes were wide open as he listened.
Saebyeok gave a pause before speaking again. “He did mention you two were childhood friends,” she offered in an attempt to console the now-upset Sangwoo. She sounded slightly on edge, most likely thinking Sangwoo a threat and also not knowing how to console someone she met less than a week ago.
“I remember the day he suddenly showed up at school. First grade, this scrawny kid with scraped knees and a brand-new shirt comes in and sits next to me. Says his name is Gihun, smiles at me. He said he’d just moved from outside Incheon. He offered to share his eight pack of crayons with me, even though I’d just gotten the sixty-four pack,” Sangwoo remembered.
Gihun remembered that day. His mom had saved up for that new shirt, it was blue and white and made with cotton, he’d stained it later that day on the playground. A few of the kids had drawn up a Squid Game in the courtyard at recess. It had rained recently, and the courtyard was muddy, so he came home with a dirty shirt and a big smile. He’d won the game that day.
Gihun and Sangwoo had struggled to become friends at first. Gihun would rather play outside and get dirty and run around, while Sangwoo would rather sit with a 5th grade level book or draw a picture. Sangwoo always wore these nicer polo shirts, so he was hesitant to do anything that would get it dirty. He didn’t want to cause more trouble to his mother during washing, he was a good and considerate child.
But he was also considerate towards Gihun. Sometimes on the last day before his mother was paid, Gihun would come to school with only a small bag of crackers and maybe a fruit. So, Sangwoo would ask his mother for an extra cookie or sometimes even another sandwich just so Gihun could eat.
“He would always have the biggest smile when I would give him that sandwich,” Sangwoo explained, hands in his lap thumbing the bottom of his jacket. “He was always too skinny. It always worried me, my mother too. She would always give him an extra serving of food when he came over for dinner.”
There was a long, quiet pause. The only sounds really present in the room were the ambient creakings and groanings of the building, and the shallow sounds of breathing.
“I’ll go check on him,” Saebyeok offered, rising to her feet.
The room had been cleared of the bunk beds, and only three remained; one for each of them. The two of them had been sitting on Sangwoo’s bed off to the side, and Saebyeok approached Gihun’s bed in the middle. Gihun promptly shut his eyes to pretend he hadn’t heard the previous conversation.
Saebyeok approached, bending down beside the bed. She squinted, and then she smacked his cheek with medium power.
Gihun’s eyes flew open. He let out a weird sound, sort of like a guh! but not very loud.
“So you were awake.”
Gihun slowly pushed himself up by his elbows, suddenly aware of the wounds present in his torso. He grimaced as he continued to push up. He was bandaged, to his right on the floor was a somewhat shredded bedsheet that had been used. The fabric he’d been wrapped with was still soaked through nonetheless, and sitting up only darkened the stains on the wrappings.
Sangwoo had heard Saebyeok, and he was instantly by Gihun’s side. “Don’t sit up, stay laying down, don’t hurt yourself-” he insisted.
“I’m going to die anyways,” Gihun snapped, frustration and exhaustion from the constant pain coming to the surface. He winced again as he finally sat himself up, leaning against the steel bedframe. It wasn’t at all comfortable. “Look how much blood I’ve lost, Sangwoo. I’m still bleeding out and I’m sure something is punctured.”
Speaking was becoming difficult, something was definitely wrong with one of his lungs. The glass that stabbed him near his heart had most likely damaged it, and maybe even his ribcage. Something was definitely awry in that area.
“Saebyeok, could you give us a moment please,” Sangwoo asked, a drop of venom in his voice. She nodded, understanding he was not mad at her, and shuffled away to her own bed. She was injured too, after all. She needed a little bit of rest herself.
“I’m sorry,” Gihun said.
“Shut up,” Sangwoo replied. “We’re getting you out of here.”
“There’s not much you can do,” Gihun stubbornly mumbled. “It’s best you survive anyways.”
“And why does your life matter less?” Sangwoo questioned, giving him that stern look he’d been giving him since before the first game. Behind his firmly knitted eyebrows and pressed lips were the eyes of a man at the brink of… something. Gihun couldn’t read it.
“You have a reputation,” Gihun began, stopping to take shallow and wheezy breaths. “You were the smartest, brightest boy out of all of us. Your mother still talks about you. Me? I’m millions of won in debt, gambling or smoking it all away while my mother’s feet are swollen purple and my daughter sits waiting for me. I’m just a slave to my own bad habits, Sangwoo. I’m not much compared to you.”
Sangwoo only took a second before answering. “Why do you always do that? Why do you always compare yourself to me like I’m so much better?” he shouted, loud enough that Saebyeok turned to look.
“Because you are, Sangwoo!” Gihun shouted as loud as he could muster.
Sangwoo had fury in his eyes. “Just because I’m good at things doesn’t mean you’re to be tossed out like weekly garbage!” He stopped, he had that sore feeling in his nose you sometimes get before crying, his throat was tight. “I never… thought myself better than you.”
Gihun’s eyebrows relaxed, he didn’t even know they had tensed. He didn’t say anything, just trying to keep himself breathing.
“I liked you. I liked you a lot. The reason I wasn’t happy with you, the reason I didn’t want to talk to you when I saw you were here was because I didn’t want to believe you’d fallen into the same shithole as me,” Sangwoo admitted. “After high school, after we stopped talking, I would think about you sometimes hoping you were doing well, that your mother was okay, that you were okay. Seeing you here proved all my well wishes hadn’t worked.”
Sangwoo was looking down now, his hands clenching the bedsheets tightly as he sat on his knees beside the bed on the floor. Gihun simply sat, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, taking in what had been said.
“I was disappointed to see you here too,” Gihun stated.
Sangwoo looked up. “You wouldn’t be the first to be disappointed in me.”
“Everyone looked up to you. Every mother of every kid in the neighborhood spoke highly of you, everyone wanted you to be their study partner. You were the brightest light amongst some bright lights. I was so proud to be your friend,” Gihun recalled, smiling now. “I remember telling everyone I was friends with Cho Sangwoo.” He had a slightly dreamy, slightly dazed look on his face.
The edges of Sangwoo’s lips turned up for a second. “You act like you weren’t a good friend, you were selfless. You would always give me your last pencil, your last tissue, you even gave me your favorite shirt,” he said quietly, not wanting Saebyeok to hear. In reality, Sangwoo had sat and cried whenever he stained that shirt, or ripped it. The day he finally outgrew the shirt, he sat and cried for a good hour. He couldn’t even get his arms into the sleeves, so he sat there with it around his neck while he cried.
Gihun couldn’t help but laugh, his smile turning sour as the pain hit him again, and he was pulled from memory lane back down to hell. He realized he was running out of time, he was still bleeding and his clothes were soaked.
It’s like Sangwoo could read him like an open book. His lips pursed again, and he shakily brought one of his hands up to Gihun’s. Gihun’s hands were nearly ice cold, the skin paling as Sangwoo took one of Gihun’s hands into his.
“Don’t think about it,” Sangwoo whispered.
“I’m cold, Sang-ah,” Gihun said, his hand weakly squeezing Sangwoo’s.
“Are you scared?” Sangwoo asked, scooting closer. Gihun hadn’t called him Sang-ah in at least two decades. It was what Gihun called him affectionately, in a little-brother kind of way. It was only used when they were alone, when Gihun was feeling sweet.
“I know you don’t like me anymore, Sang-ah, but please hold me,” Gihun pleaded. “If I’m going to die, I don’t want to be alone.”
Sangwoo got up, slowly sitting next to him on the bed. The sheets were stained dark crimson, but Sangwoo would fulfill his friend’s last wish. He slowly laid down aside Gihun, pulling the blanket up to cover him and keep him warm.
“I never said I didn’t like you anymore,” Sangwoo said, avoiding Gihun’s eyes.
“Mmm, you like me?” Gihun replied, smiling again. He had scooted down so he was lying on his side, him and Sangwoo facing each other.
Sangwoo paused. “It goes without saying. Do you think I would be letting you bleed all over me if I didn’t?” he joked.
Gihun squeezed his hand. “Believe me, I wish we were in better circumstances,” he replied.
A beat of silence passed. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just the two of them treasuring this moment knowing what was coming.
“I had a crush on you for years, Sang-ah,” Gihun suddenly blurted out.
Sangwoo froze. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I had a crush on you. In high school… you were staying over, you’d fallen asleep next to me on the couch, and all I wanted to do in that moment was take your hand, put a blanket on you, and fall asleep with my head on your shoulder,” Gihun admitted, his cheeks tinting despite the blood loss. “You’d become so associated with safety, so I clung to that.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sangwoo asked, eyes wide and voice concerned.
“I was worried you’d run away, call me a freak and tell everyone that Seong Gihun is a fairy,” Gihun said with a sigh. “You didn’t look the accepting type.”
“If you had kissed me, I wouldn’t have minded, you know,” Sangwoo quietly whispered. This, Saebyeok just could not hear.
Gihun looked him straight in the eyes, a smile appearing on his lips. “Can I kiss you now?”
Sangwoo, without thinking, leaned down and pulled Gihun closer. “Yes,” he stated firmly. He wasn’t smiling, but his eyes were.
Gihun beamed and leaned forward, slowly pressing his lips against Sangwoo’s. Having been married, he knew what he was doing. He took both of Sangwoo’s hands into his as they kissed.
Sangwoo was having a crisis. When he saw Gihun again during the first game, he remembered something. Not a memory, but a feeling. He’d remembered his feelings for Gihun. It was as if a car had been started for the first time in years, sitting idle. But kissing him? That was driving that same car down the highway at 83 miles per hour at three in the morning with music blasting and the windows down. Kissing Gihun was as satisfying as catching a radio station playing a favorite song, as satisfying as the first steps into the ocean on a hot day at the beach.
But it was bittersweet. Sangwoo could taste Gihun’s blood. It reminded him that Gihun was literally dying with each moment that went on. He wished they hadn’t stopped talking after high school, that they had stayed friends and that these confessions hadn’t had to wait until Gihun’s literal deathbed. They’d lost possible years together.
But Gihun was smiling when their lips parted.
“When I heard that you’d gotten married, I had to go and get drunk for two weeks just to deal with it,” Sangwoo confessed. There was no reason to keep secrets now, they would die with Gihun.
“I’m sorry,” Gihun said, pouting slightly. He brought a hand to Sangwoo’s cheek, flinching very slightly at the stubble Sangwoo had grown. His eyes swept over Sangwoo. “You aged pretty well, you know. It’s annoying that you stayed hot.”
Sangwoo couldn’t resist the snicker that burst out of him. “You’re not hard to look at either,” he joked, despite being serious. “The hair looks nice.”
Gihun smiled and pressed a brief kiss to his forehead. “Thank you,” he muttered breathily. “I’m kind of tired, will you stay with me as I fall asleep?”
Sangwoo nodded. He felt his heart drop, the thunk! was almost audible. “Yes, go ahead,” he whispered.
Gihun’s eyes slowly slid closed. “Thank you, Sang-ah. I love you,” he said gently. His hands still clasped Sangwoo’s.
Sangwoo paused for a moment, taking in those words. “I love you too, Gihunnie hyung,” he replied.
Sangwoo was woken up by the usual music that woke the players in the morning. His eyelids felt heavy, but he still made the effort to open his eyes. “Gihun, are you-”
Gihun was ice cold. Sangwoo had still been holding him when he woke up.
“Gihun?” Sangwoo called, sitting up now. His eyes were wide, his heartbeat was beginning to quicken. “Gihun!”
Gihun wasn’t responding. Sangwoo checked his pulse on his neck. There was no pulse. Just Gihun, lying dead and cold.
Sangwoo crumpled, his stern facade breaking into tiny pieces. He began trembling, hot tears quickly forming in his eyes and spilling over onto his cheeks. The man held Gihun so close, beginning to wail and sob in pure agony. His childhood best friend and then man who had just unlocked his heart once again, now lay peacefully under him on the bed.
Sangwoo thought he looked like an angel, lying there like nothing was going wrong in the world, like he hadn’t just died in a money-murder game.
Player 456, eliminated.