Chapter Text
Dongsik always slept in the living room.
Atleast, that’s what Juwon realizes after a few days of moving in together.
They don’t really talk about it, so Juwon swallows his tongue and tries to ignore the lump in his throat as Dongsik pecks him on his forehead and leaves to sleep on the sofa.
Tries to ignore the cold bed even though he’s searching for something that was never there in the first place ( had the bed always been this empty ?)
He thinks that Dongsik would be nice to sleep next to, that he’d hold Juwon’s hands in his own calluses like they had always meant to be there. He wants to run his fingers through his curls and wake up to his light snores, wants the Sun to shine on Dongsik’s eyes so it’s the first thing that Juwon sees in the morning.
But he guesses that it can wait. Juwon can wait just a little longer, after all Dongsik had waited for 20 years. A few more days and Dongsik would tell him why, he would quell this hole in Juwon’s heart that kept doubting and doubting.
(Months later, as the sun sets into the cold evening and the coffee is warm in their hands, Dongsik would finally tell him about the ghosts. He would tell him about the cold feeling of dread when he used to climb up the stairs and the boxes of memories that would stare back at him like ashes of the dead that were still begging. How everything was just so so cold and Juwon-ah I-
Juwon would just listen and when their drinks emptied, he’d replace the warmth of the hot cup with his own hands.
Ghosts aren't warm but Juwon was.)
Dongsik liked to sleep on the sofa, and maybe that’s why as the night blankets over Manyang on that March night and the front door creaks open for Juwon to come back from work, he doesn’t notice the stillness. Simply thinking that it was sleep that had gotten to Dongsik, lulling him to an uncomfortable slumber.
Floating. Dongsik is floating… or at least he thinks he is. All that he knows at that moment is that everything is blurry, their lamp ( was it pink ? red ? Dongsik can’t recall ) was a blob of color painted bright against the darkness of the room. He tries to remember how he got here, tries to retrace his steps through the day but it just makes his head hurt worse, so he simply stops thinking and just tries to exist – whatever the hell that means.
“-sik ! Can” and the voice radios out again, “ - me ?”
The sound is warbled, like Dongsik is underwater trying to reach out to someone. ( he hopes they pull him out soon ) He can’t recognise the sound through the noise, but it sounds nice, a gravelly depth to it that was oddly familiar. He closes his eyes and tries to block out all that seemed to be closing in on him, but the noise just keeps getting louder.
“Dongsik !”
There are hands on him, hands on his forehead then on his neck. They’re warm and big, one of them tangling their fingers through his curls ( is he just imagining this ? is this just the wind ? )
“-yung!”
And Dongsik forces his eyes open, just until the silhouette of a dark figure comes into view. He tries scrunching his eyebrows, confusion rapidly leading to panic as he fails to recognise anything around him. There are hands on him again and they feel dirty on him now and he has to get them off. He wants it off.It’s too much, and he can’t breathe.
The hands move away and he hears rushed footsteps follow. His breath keeps getting shorter and his limbs don’t obey. He’s burning again, desperately wanting to get away from everything but nothing comes out of his mouth. It opens and closes, as he tries to search for anything around him, but his neck is stiff. He's stuck.
A person is kneeling down before him, but he can’t figure out the face.
And he still can’t move.
There’s something warm on his cheek now (are they the hands again ?) and Dongsik lets out a whimper, and this time tries to lean into it as much as he can. Dongsik is still trapped in his mind, but he tries. Tries to latch onto the remnants of light to the best of his capability.
The warmth skids over his cheek, gentle instead of the earlier frantic and Dongsik doesn’t feel dirty anymore. He lets the warmth (they must be hands) roam over his back, trying to ignore the way that everything is still so blurry. And that it’s still too much.
They stop again and before Dongsik knows it, he feels one of them creep behind his knees and settle in the gap,with the other supporting his back. He feels himself shake. He can’t do this, everything is happening too fast. He’s too scared
There’s a jump and it suddenly becomes colder. He can feel himself move, violently shaking in the arms that must be carrying him ( where ? he hopes somewhere far away). His vision is blurry, and he still doesn’t know what’s going on, so he tightens his fist, gripping the material closest to him and tries to take a deep breath.
One.
Two.
“Dongsik ?”, the voice is muffled by the cotton of his own ears, but he relents. Squinting up at the figure above him and trying to say ‘who’, but all that comes out are broken whimpers that sound pathetic to even his own ears. His tongue is all twisted and his throat dry.
“Hey”, the voice murmurs, “it’s okay, don’t try to talk right now”
It’s Inspector Han.
It’s his Juwon-ah.
He feels himself breakdown, feels the light sting of salt as tears trail down his face and he’s too helpless to stop it as they keep pouring and pouring.
“Hey, it’s oka— ”Juwon’s voice cracks and he pauses for a second. “I’m going to take us to the bed and you can rest there, yeah ?”
There’s a rustling in the background, as Juwon shuffles the both of them through the doors of the hall.
“I’ll even put on something you like —”, there’s another break in his voice, “not the documentaries, i promise”
Dongsik doesn’t respond. He keeps staring at the material he’s fisted and tries to focus. He wants to see what’s going on, wants to know how Juwon-ah looks right now. He wants to know if he’s alright, is he angry ? annoyed ? Dongsik hears the click of the door and the creak of the wooden floors ( the noises are gone, it’s not static anymore )
There’s something soft beneath him now and the hands leave. He scrunches his nose and pulls at them weakly, wrapping his own trembling ones around them. His body can finally move again, just the lightest bit. HIs fingers can flex and his knees can bend, but he still doesn’t have the energy to pull Juwon to him.
Thankfully, Dongsik didn’t have to, because the moment his fingers grasp for Juwon’s, the other body is pulled into his with no effort.
“Can I touch you ?”, the request is so quiet that Dongsik almost misses it. Dongsik nods and then there are fingers through his curls again. The bed beside him shifts and he tries not to get emotional as Juwon’s arms pull him and tuck him into the crook of Juwon’s shoulders.
His face is buried between Juwon and the pillow and it should be hard for him to breathe, but he’s never felt safer. He sighs into the neck, shifting a bit until his body is comfortable being curled in Juwon’s.
Juwon is bright and kind and so so good. ( How could Dongsik have gotten so lucky ?)
They stay there for a while, a very long while.
The clock ticks in the background and their chests heave in tandem. It’s probably past midnight now, the twinkle of the March moon shining through the bedroom window. His eyes are hurting and his body feels awfully heavy, but he’s safe. He’s okay.
When he’s starting to drift off, he whispers into the crook, “Juwon-ah”
“I’d like to sleep in our bed from now on”