Chapter Text
Yoon rolled over with a groan as his alarm went off. The movement was enough to send a spike of pain shooting through his skull but the blaring noise was even worse, so he supposed it was a necessary evil. He fumbled around on his nightstand until the noise finally shut off, rolling onto his back and covering his face with the blanket with a small groan. Fuck, he hated mornings. He could already feel the wave of nausea building and knew it wouldn't be long before it was strong enough that he had to get up or risk throwing up in bed, which was far from a good way to start off what was already gearing up to be a shitty day. All he wanted was to go back to sleep for a few hours but, even without the quickly growing nausea nudging him, he knew he had to get up. As much as he wished he could simply ignore the day, there was too much he needed to do.
The process of actually getting out of bed sent his nausea spiking and he barely made it to the bathroom in time before he was retching. It was like the world's worst feedback loop- the nausea making him throw up while the act of throwing up just increased his nausea- but the worst seemed to pass after a few minutes. He stood up shakily and turned the sink on, splashing cold water on his face and taking a drink directly from the faucet. He always told himself he'd try and balance however much he drank with water to try and keep from getting as dehydrated- and maybe lessen the resulting hangover- but he never quite seemed to manage it, and definitely hadn't managed it last night. It was probably futile anyways; no amount of water was going to make him feel better today. It helped wash down a couple tylenol though, which he supposed was the most he could ask for right now.
He at least felt somewhat steadier by the time he made his way into the kitchen to put the coffee on. A strong cup of coffee wouldn't exactly do much to make him feel good , but it would maybe at least help him feel a little less terrible. If nothing else, he’d at least feel more awake, and at this point he'd take what he could get.
His phone buzzed on the counter and Yoon glanced over at it, sighing. He didn't even need to look at the screen to know it was Gil-young; he couldn't think of anyone else who would be texting him.
Is 1500 still good for you? I'll drive
Yoon paused. He didn't have to say yes. He could say no, that something had come up or he was needed by the diocese or just that he wasn't up for it. She'd understand. Maybe even be sympathetic- she'd gotten surprisingly good at that over the past year, as much as Yoon hated when it was directed at him. He’d promised though, and that still meant something.
Yes that works
Perfect. I'll pick you up at the parish
Yoon set his phone back down on the counter and looked out over the kitchen with another sigh. He supposed it wouldn’t be a terrible idea to try and clean things up a little while the coffee brewed. It was an absolute mess and he knew he couldn’t leave it in this state. With his probationary period at the parish coming to an end soon there would be several reviews to determine if he’d be fully reinstated, and at least one of them would likely include a walk through of his flat. The various bottles and cans that had collected across any surface with enough room wouldn’t be a good look for that, and he had no way of knowing when exactly anyone would stop by. Starting to get things cleaned up was a good idea. He’d need to remember to take the recycling out too- if he was going to get rid of the evidence, he might as well at least do a thorough job of it.
He’d managed to clear off a decent amount of the counter by the time the coffee machine beeped. The smell of strong coffee had filled the small room and Yoon took a sip as soon as he’d poured the mug, completely ignoring the fact that it was still far too hot to drink. A burnt tongue was a small price to pay for a little caffeine. It wasn’t like he had the time to sit and savour it either, even if he’d wanted to. He was supposed to be at the parish by eight, and he had to factor in the almost 45 minute bus ride to get there. He’d make it in plenty of time- getting dressed wouldn’t take long and he knew the bus schedule well enough by now to know exactly when he needed to arrive to catch it- but it didn’t exactly leave much time to enjoy his coffee. Certainly not enough to let it cool down before drinking it.
He did his best to avoid looking at his reflection until he was mostly dressed, and even then it wasn’t a particularly pleasant sight. He looked, quite honestly, like shit. Respectable enough that he wouldn’t get any comments from the other priests, but the dark circles under his eyes made it look like he’d barely slept in weeks and his face looked hollow and worn. The white collar under his chin seemed amusingly at odds with the rest of his reflection, looking far too respectable for the person wearing it. No doubt he’d get at least a few comments from Gil-young about how bad he looked when they met up. They were a pretty common occurrence whenever they saw each other by this point, and even he had to admit he looked worse than usual today.
Yoon blinked in the sunlight as he stepped outside, the sudden brightness not doing anything good for his lingering headache. The combination of strong coffee and tylenol had helped but there was only so much caffeine could do and it hadn’t quite been long enough for the meds to kick in fully. He’d probably be fine by the time he reached the parish, but the first leg of the bus ride wasn’t shaping up to be a pleasant one. At least his nausea had mostly subsided; the swaying of the bus always played hell with that if it was still strong enough. He even managed to get a row of seats to himself too, which was a nice surprise. Even shitty days had to have bright spots, he supposed.
The world seemed to fade out slightly as Yoon watched the buildings pass as the bus drove, letting his eyes unfocus and turn everything into a blur. He was careful not to let his mind wander, though. He knew where it would go, and that was the last thing he wanted right now. It would be best if he could just pretend today was like any other day. He just had to keep his head down and do whatever busywork the diocese had assigned for him today and pretend like it was just another perfectly dull and unremarkable day mixed in with all the rest.
It wasn’t though. If it had been, he wouldn’t be leaving the parish early today. He wouldn’t be meeting Gil-young or taking the drive out to the countryside. He could pretend it was a normal day all he wanted, but nothing he could do would make him actually believe it.
One year. It had been one year ago today that they’d banished Park Il-do. It had been a victory, Yoon knew it was a victory, but it didn’t feel like one. Not when it had come with such a heavy cost. Yoon knew what loss felt like. He’d known it since he’d been a scared eight year old covered in blood and rain as the paramedics checked him over. Everyone said it lessened with time and got easier, but Yoon knew better. It scabbed over, maybe even scarred if you were lucky, but it was still there, a throbbing, aching wound that never went away. And the feeling that had settled into Yoon’s chest as he’d screamed Hwa-pyung’s name out over the water was just as painful today as it had been a year ago.
Yoon gripped the edge of his jacket tightly, shoving the memory away as best he could. He could think about it later, when he was alone and could dull it as best he could. Right now, though, he had a day to get through. Dwelling on the unchangeable past wasn’t going to help with that.
Sister Josephine smiled at him as he walked into the parish. Most of the nuns had learned to give him a wide berth but Sister Josephine had maintained her same warm demeanor even as Yoon invariably refused to return it. “Good morning, Father Matthew.” Yoon let out a vague hum in response, hoping to end the interaction quickly, but Sister Josephine was undeterred. “Beautiful weather out today, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Yoon walked past her without a glance. He’d never liked small talk much; the past year hadn’t done anything to change that, and he certainly wasn’t in the mood for it today. “Lovely.”
“Oh! Before I forget!” Yoon slowed, sighing slightly and turning to face Sister Josephine’s unwavering smile. “Father Simon asked me to tell you to stop by his office when you got in. He’d like to speak with you.”
“Right. Thank you.” Yoon bowed his head before heading off again. He supposed he should try and at least be marginally polite. Sister Josephine’s commitment to being unerringly pleasant was commendable even if it was also annoying, and she was only trying to be nice. Still, despite her smile and sunny demeanor, she hadn’t exactly given him good news. If Father Simon wanted to meet then either Yoon had fucked up or he wanted to discuss the upcoming review hearings. Yoon wasn’t sure which would be worse, but neither one was something he particularly wanted to deal with right now.
He took a deep breath, putting on his most neutral expression, before knocking on Father Simon’s door. Father Simon looked up, smiling. “Ah, Matthew. Glad you made it in.”
Yoon hesitated. If he could get out of this being an actual sit-down conversation, that would be ideal. “Sister Josephine said you wished to speak with me?”
“Yes. Please,” Father Simon gestured to the chair on the other side of his desk, “come in. And close the door behind you.” Yoon kept his face neutral despite his internal grimace. A sit-down conversation it was. He closed the door and took a wordless seat across from Father Simon. The older priest fixed him with a careful look. “Your year of probationary service is coming to an end.”
“Yes, in just a few weeks, I believe.”
Father Simon nodded. “You’ve done well during it. You’ve kept your more…insubordinate streak under control and have followed the rules and restrictions without issue.” He paused, watching Yoon closely. Nothing he’d said so far had been particularly bad, but Yoon knew better than to assume Father Simon was done. “Some members of the disciplinary committee still have…concerns, though.”
There it was. “May I ask what those concerns are?” Yoon kept his voice even, trying not to let his frustration- at having to have this conversation and at the whole situation in general- show. “I will gladly address whatever I am able to.”
Father Simon’s caution was nearly palpable. Whatever the concerns were, he was struggling to find a polite way to discuss them. “I will not name names, and I ask that you do not seek them out either. But concerns have been raised regarding your…self care recently. The question has been raised as to whether you’re in a fit enough state to return to full duties right now, or if perhaps more time is warranted.”
Self care . It was a cautiously polite term that managed to side step its own implications. Yoon supposed it was at least a nicer way to say it than outright saying he looked like shit. “I appreciate the concern for my well-being. I must respectfully disagree however. I do not think a longer period is necessary.” He paused. “I will admit, though, that things have been…more difficult recently. I can understand where the concern is coming from.”
Father Simon nodded again. “Of course. The anniversary of your friend’s death is coming up, I believe?”
“It’s today actually.”
Father Simon bowed his head. “My condolences. I will keep you and him in my prayers today. The wounds of loss are painful, but time and faith in the Lord will heal all pain eventually.”
Yoon clenched his fists in his lap, struggling to keep his expression blank. You don’t know a single fucking thing about the pain of loss. He bowed his head in return, both as a show of respect and to give himself a moment’s reprieve where Father Simon couldn’t see his expression. “Thank you, Father. I appreciate your words and your prayers.”
“Of course.” Father Simon sighed. “Your first preliminary review hearing will be held tomorrow morning. Assuming it goes well, the committee will move forward with a full review.” He paused. “This will include a walk through of your flat, of course, as is customary.”
The unspoken implication wasn’t lost on Yoon. He was suddenly glad he’d already started throwing away the cans and bottles this morning before he’d left. “Of course. I am hopeful that I will be able to resume full activity within the Church soon.”
“As am I.” Father Simon smiled at him. “Thank you for stopping by, and if I don’t see you before then, I look forward to seeing you at the hearing tomorrow. Please know your work over the past year has not gone unnoticed.”
Yoon stood up, bowing again. He could feel anger rising in his chest, but he kept his expression as graciously blank as he could, giving Father Simon a small smile in return. He’d gotten through the past year without fucking anything up to a major degree, he could get through the last seconds of this conversation without doing that too. “Thank you, Father. Have a good day.”
The smile dropped off Yoon’s face as soon as he was through the door. He kept his expression blank as he made his way back down the hall towards the office he had been assigned, but enough anger bled through that even Sister Josephine didn’t bother with anything more than a quick smile as he passed her. He supposed he should just be glad it was her here today rather than one of the other sisters- he was fairly confident that Sister Josephine at least wouldn’t run back to Father Simon to report his mood. His odds wouldn’t have been so great with anyone else.
He closed his office door calmly behind him and leaned against it, clenching his fists again and taking several deep breaths to try and calm down. Getting angry wasn’t going to get him anywhere. All it would do was make him distracted and unpleasant, and with how much paperwork the diocese liked to assign him he doubted he had time for that. It wouldn’t go away, but he could deal with it later, whenever he dealt with his memories of that night too. He glanced at the clock- a little over 20 past. Just over six and a half hours before he was meeting Gil-young, and then a few more hours after that before he was back at his flat. He could deal with everything then, preferably with a bottle or three of soju.
Gil-young pulled into the parish parking lot. She was a few minutes early but if Yoon’s comments about the work the diocese was giving him recently were anything to go by, she doubted he’d mind leaving a little earlier than planned. She’d been surprised at first by how busy the Church was keeping him despite the fact that the duties he could perform were limited by his probationary status, but it made more sense the more she thought about it. Any time she’d gotten in trouble at the station she’d always been stuck with all the paperwork until everything had blown over. It worked both as a punishment and as a way to keep her busy enough to keep her from getting into trouble anywhere else. The Church, it seemed, took a similar approach to disciplining its priests.
She recognized Yoon’s form long before he was close enough to make out his face. His height made him easy to pick out of the various figures milling about outside, and he carried himself with a distance that bordered on unfriendliness that always seemed specific to him. He opened the door and climbed in. “You’re early.”
“Detective Goh said he’d cover for me for the last bit of the shift.” Gil-young shrugged. “Besides, I figured you wouldn’t mind getting out of here a few minutes early.”
Yoon fastened his seatbelt. “You didn’t have to take time off if things were busy at the station.”
“They weren’t too bad. Nothing above normal, at least. And I would have had time for this no matter what.” She glanced at the plastic bag Yoon had set by his feet. “What’s that?”
“I picked up some beef.” Yoon motioned to the bag with a small shrug. “That always seemed to be Hwa-pyung’s favourite.”
Gil-young couldn’t help but smile. “You should have said something beforehand.” She turned, grabbing the plastic bag full of takeout that she’d set on the floor behind the driver’s seat. “He’ll be having a feast tonight I guess.”
“Yeah,” Yoon laughed dryly. It struck Gil-young as little more than a perfunctory gesture, no actual warmth or humour in the sound. “I guess he will.”
They fell into silence as Gil-young pulled out of the parking lot. It had been over a month since they’d last seen each other in person; things admittedly had been a bit busier than normal around the station recently and between that and the work Yoon had been assigned, their schedules hadn’t lined up well. She kept in touch as best she could but it was different texting as opposed to seeing each other in person, especially with Yoon. He was even more terse over text than he was in conversation, and it was hard to get a sense of how he was actually doing through a handful of short, typed out sentences.
She glanced over at him. To be honest, he looked bad. He hadn’t looked great the last time she’d seen him, but he looked even worse now. She’d rarely seen him look well-rested but he looked exhausted now, and his face had taken on a hollow look that it hadn’t had the last time they’d gotten together. She supposed it was only fair given everything- Goh had been pestering her even more than normal recently, so she probably wasn’t looking that great herself- but still. She couldn’t help the concern that pooled in her chest as Yoon stared blankly out at the passing street. “Have you been eating? You look thin.”
“I’ve been eating fine.”
“Not fine enough by the looks of it.” Gil-young sighed. “I’m going to start making you get dinner with me regularly. I know I’ve threatened that before, but I mean it this time. We’re getting dinner and I’m making sure you’re eating like a normal person instead of…whatever it is you’re doing on your own.”
Yoon rested his head back against the headrest. “You sound like Detective Goh. He must be rubbing off on you.”
Gil-young huffed and hit Yoon’s arm lightly. “Shut up. I’m just trying to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”
“The concern is appreciated, but I can assure you I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“If you want me to actually believe you, you might want to try getting enough sleep to not look like you’re half dead. You’re going to work yourself into the ground and then I’ll be the one picking you back up.” She stared determinedly out the windshield for a moment before she started to process what she’d said, horror slowly creeping into her expression. “Oh God, you’re right. I do sound like Goh.” Yoon laughed quietly, the sound a little more genuine this time, and Gil-young hit his arm again. “This isn’t funny, asshole. It’s horrifying. You can’t ever tell him about this, or I’m never going to live it down.”
“Not a word, I promise.”
Silence filled the car again as Yoon’s laughter faded. It was nice to hear him laugh at least a little. It hadn’t been a common occurrence even before they’d lost Hwa-pyung- out of the three of them, Hwa-pyung had always been the one to laugh and smile the most- but it had become even less common since then. Something had changed in Yoon after that day on the beach a year ago, and he’d never quite been the same since. It wasn’t just the physical changes either, the look of constant exhaustion or the weight Gil-young knew he’d lost. It was other things too- how all his smiles looked forced and unnatural, how he seemed to be doing little more than thoughtlessly going through the motions of things, how he’d been going through more and more soju each time they got something to eat together. It was worrying; Gil-young knew Yoon was an adult and pushing too hard was rude, but she couldn’t make her concern simply disappear. She’d already lost one friend- the thought of losing another simply wasn’t a possibility she was willing to allow.
The silence was companionable but heavy as they drove. It was nice to see Yoon- even if he did look like shit- but that didn't change why she was seeing him. They'd never actually talked about this or really planned it at all, it had simply been an unspoken understanding that they would go to Hwa-pyung's grandfather's house on his memorial day. Gil-young cringed internally- she'd avoided calling it that even to herself. Memorial day meant an anniversary. It meant a year since Hwa-pyung had walked into the ocean and never came back out. It meant that he was gone . Objectively Gil-young already knew that. She knew better than to hold onto the false hope that no body meant that Hwa-pyung was maybe still alive. She'd seen families of countless victims cling desperately to that hope and knew all too well how devastating it could be. Hwa-pyung was gone, his body lost somewhere beneath the waves where it would probably never be found. But knowing that and facing down his first memorial day were two very different things. She kept her attention fixed firmly on the road even as the heaviness settled in her chest- she'd have to face it eventually, but a little while longer of ignoring it wouldn't be the end of the world.
Hwa-pyung's great uncle was waiting for them in front of the house when they arrived. He was sitting out front next to Hwa-pyung's grandfather, giving them a sad smile as Gil-young parked. She turned the car off but neither of them moved for several long seconds. Finally, she sighed. “We have to do this.”
“I know.”
Gil-young looked over, the tightness in Yoon’s voice catching her off guard. He was staring straight ahead, gripping the edge of his jacket with white knuckles, and even from the side Gil-young could see the pain in his expression. She reached over, resting her hand on his arm. “Yoon…”
He looked down, expression quickly shifting back to the careful blankness Gil-young was more used to seeing. He grabbed the plastic bag from by his feet and opened the door. “We’ll have to apologize to Hwa-pyung for the beef being cold. It’s the sort of thing he would have called us cheapskates for.”
Gil-young tried not to think about how clear the sadness was in her laugh. “He absolutely would have, you’re right.” She grabbed the bag she’d brought and got out as well, bowing to Hwa-pyung’s great uncle as she and Yoon approached. “Thank you for allowing us to come by.”
He gave her another sad smile, bowing in return. “I’d assumed I’d see the two of you today.” He nodded over to the house. “His memorial is inside. I already put food out earlier, but I made sure to leave room.”
Gil-young bowed again. “Thank you." She walked over to the porch and took her shoes off slowly, trying to make every movement last as long as she could. Stepping inside was crossing a line that could never be uncrossed- it made this permanent in a way it hadn't been before and as much as she knew it was a necessary step, it wasn't one she wanted to take. It couldn't be avoided forever though. The door slid open easily and she stepped inside the small room. It felt like it had barely been more than a few weeks ago that she and Yoon had stood in this very room asking Hwa-pyung's grandfather about Park Il-do. It was strange to think of it now, looking back with all they knew in retrospect. They'd thought they were slowly starting to piece things together then, but there had still been so much they hadn't known. So much they wouldn't know until it was too late.
It was a simple shrine, but Gil-young supposed Hwa-pyung wouldn't have wanted anything different. She knelt down in front of it, picking up the plate his great uncle had left out and setting it on the table carefully. The beef was indeed cold when she opened the takeout box, but the smell still filled the room. She smiled, remembering the first time she'd taken Hwa-pyung to the small noodle stall she liked to frequent. "You always complained that I only ever bought you cheap food, so I made sure to get something nice this time." She turned to where Yoon was still standing by the door, seemingly frozen in place. She held out her arm and he handed her the bag mechanically, expression unreadable as she opened the box and put some of the beef onto the plate next to what she had brought. "Yoon even brought you some too. We're both sorry it's cold, but hopefully you still like it."
Her voice cracked on the last word and Gil-young brought her hand up to her mouth as her vision started to blur. Hwa-pyung's photo stared back at her with the same smile she'd come to find equal parts annoying and comforting during their time together. "Wherever you are, I hope you're with your family. Yuk-gwan, too. I hope you're all together again." She smiled back at the photo, letting a small bit of comfort fill her chest alongside the sadness. It didn't fix things, but it was at least comforting to know that Hwa-pyung could at least finally see his family again. "I miss you. We both do."
The silence in the room was heavy but Gil-young found it almost calming to sit with. She'd dreaded the first memorial day because it felt like a more solid goodbye than anything they'd had a year ago, but now that she was here it wasn't as bad as she'd thought it would be. Painful, yes, but there was comfort too. She knew she'd never get full closure, she doubted it was even possible for something like this, but this was something.
After a few minutes she wiped away the couple of tears that had spilled over and stood up slowly. Yoon was still standing by the door, staring down at the memorial with a distant look. Gil-young rested her hand back on his arm carefully. "Did you want to say anything?"
It was several seconds before Yoon responded. "No, I…" He looked down, taking a shaky breath. "I didn't have anything."
Gil-young nodded, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. "I want to check in on Hwa-pyung's grandfather, but then we should head out. It's starting to get late." She paused, taking in the careful blankness in Yoon's expression. He hid his emotions well, but she'd learned to read his expressions over the last year enough to know that tonight would be hard for him. "It'll be dark by the time we get back. Maybe we can grab something to eat."
Yoon gave her a small, forced smile. "It's fine. I have to be at the parish early tomorrow, and I'm sure you have an early morning as well."
It was an excuse, but Gil-young didn't try to push it. She would later, maybe when they were in the car on the way back, when there was at least a little space between them and Hwa-pyung’s memorial, but not right now.
Hwa-pyung's great uncle was waiting for them outside. "I'm glad you both came. It's nice to see people honouring his memory."
Gil-young bowed. "Of course." She looked over to where Hwa-pyung's grandfather was sitting, looking out over the village and talking quietly to himself. "How is he?"
"He waits for them every day- his wife, son, and grandson." There was sadness in the great uncle's voice, mixed with resignation. "He thinks they just went to the marketplace and that they'll be back any minute. I don't have the heart to tell him, and I don't think he'd remember even if I did." He was quiet for a moment before turning back to Gil-young and Yoon. "I wanted to let you know that there's no need to keep sending money. It's very appreciated, but not necessary."
"It's no issue." Yoon's voice was subdued. "It's what Hwa-pyung would have wanted."
"He's right." Gil-young smiled. "It's really not a problem."
"And I greatly appreciate it, really. But we get enough as it is. More than enough honestly."
Gil-young paused, confused. "What do you mean?"
"Some sort of charity, I think." Hwa-pyung's great uncle motioned to a pile of boxes stacked in the driveway. "Clothing, food, housing supplies, even rice sometimes. One of the fishermen from the docks brings them up each month, but I don't know where he gets them from."
Gil-young was vaguely aware of the man continuing to speak, but her attention was fixed solidly on the packages. She felt Yoon go still behind as well, his mind clearly going to the exact same place as hers. It was a small thought, little more than the shadow of a suspicion, but it was impossible to ignore. She knew it it was stupid to hope. Dangerous, even- all it would do would make the inevitable fall just that much more painful. She felt it though, the small bit of hope- the mere possibility that it might be who she so badly wanted it to be- wriggling its way into her mind. She turned back to Hwa-pyung's great uncle, trying to keep her smile as polite as possible. "Sorry, you wouldn't happen to have that fisherman's name, would you?"
Yoon stared out the car window at the passing street, the rest of the world seeming to fade out around him. Nothing quite felt real. It felt separate from him, muffled and distorted like he was watching it from underwater. None of it mattered anyway. Not really. Not right now. All that mattered right now was the house they were driving towards and the person they might find inside.
It had started back at Hwa-pyung's grandfather's house when he and Gil-young had seen the boxes. The likelihood that they were from who immediately came to mind was low. Nearly impossible. Hwa-pyung's grandfather had been a relative loner in the village though, with few friends outside of his brother. And it was unlikely that a charity was sending everything, especially with no accompanying materials or logo. That had been when the strange distance had first set in, subtle and tempered by doubt but there. It had grown as they'd made their way to the docks, worming its way into his mind until he was holding the world at arm's length.
The boatman had been surprised by their questions but friendly enough, telling them about the package deliveries with little more than vaguely amused confusion.
Someone asked me to. He asked me to deliver it to Gyeyangjin. It was around this time last year. I was in my boat and I pulled him from the sea.
The world had seemed to shift around Yoon at that, everything seeming to somehow sharpen and dull at the same time. He'd barely heard the man give them directions to a house in a small village nearby as his mind reeled. It couldn't be possible. He'd watched Hwa-pyung stab himself in the chest and eye, watched him walk into the water, watched him drift down to the ocean floor as darkness had clouded his vision. He'd died. Yoon had watched him die.
I pulled him from the sea.
"Do you think it could be him?"
Yoon blinked as Gil-young's voice managed to break through the water the rest of the world had been sunk into. "It can't be. You were there, you saw what happened."
His voice sounded strange, like it was someone else speaking. Gil-young didn't seem to notice though, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. "It might be, though. There's a chance."
Yoon didn't answer, simply going back to staring out the window. He tilted in his seat as Gil-young turned into a small side street and pulled over and the world seemed to tilt with him. He could see the house up ahead, at the top of the street. It seemed like the only thing his eyes could focus on now, like his vision was a tunnel. He was vaguely aware of his body moving as he got out of the car, of Gil-young walking beside him as they moved towards the house slowly, but none of it fully broke through. It was happening somewhere else far away from him, where there were things to focus on besides the cluttered porch. It wasn't going to be him. It couldn't be him. It was impossible.
Yoon recognized the figure before he ever saw his face.
His hair was longer, messy and in his face like it always was, and Yoon could see the scar coming down from his right eye. Could see the scars on his arm. The rosary around his neck. Yoon's rosary.
Hwa-pyung was standing on the porch, smiling at them.
He was alive.
The world seemed to careen around Yoon while he stood frozen in place. Everything in him was screaming that this couldn't be happening, that he was dreaming or hallucinating or something , but he knew he wasn't. He could see Hwa-pyung in front of him. Could hear Gil-young's disbelieving laugh. Something was growing in his chest, simmering and building up as he stared at Hwa-pyung. He was too distant to identify it but he could feel it, growing inside him like an itch and tethering him to this thing that was happening to someone else. That had to be happening to someone else. Hwa-pyung was smiling now, walking down the porch steps slowly, and something moved beside Yoon. Some one - Gil-young. She'd pulled Hwa-pyung into a hug and Yoon was vaguely aware of a sound- crying? Talking?- but the pressure in his chest was growing, pushing through the water that had submerged everything else and demanding he pay attention to it.
Hwa-pyung was looking at him now, still smiling. Yoon knew he should move, he wanted to move, but his limbs wouldn't respond. The pressure was still growing, gripping and clawing at the inside of his ribs. Each step Hwa-pyung took towards him just made it grow stronger until it felt like it was going to crack him open. It hurt , ripping into him- what was it? Hwa-pyung was barely a few steps away now, mouth moving but Yoon wasn't able to make out the words. He just knew that this… thing inside him was going to burst out.
Anger. This pressure was anger.
Hwa-pyung's smile grew and his mouth moved again, the word just barely managing to break through. "Yoon."
The world came crashing back in as the pressure finally burst. Gil-young's yell reached the periphery of his awareness but it wasn't until Yoon felt the contact of skin and bone under his fist that he even realized he'd swung. Hwa-pyung stumbled back and Yoon tried to breathe, the world suddenly feeling too bright, too loud, too much . "You fucking…'
He brought his fist back again but arms were around him, holding him in place and forcing him to stumble back several steps. "Yoon!" The arms released him, pushing him back several more steps as they did so, and Yoon's eyes slowly focused on Gil-young's face. She was standing between him and where Hwa-pyung was on the ground, staring at him with shock. "Yoon, what the fuck are you doing?"
He couldn't seem to keep his eyes focused on anything for more than a few seconds. The pressure was spilling out of him, anger mixing with something emptier and somehow more painful as it rushed through him. "I-I…" He couldn't seem to breathe properly as everything pressed in around him, hands trembling as he clenched them into fists. He needed to leave, get out, go somewhere , before the weight of everything crushed him. He turned quickly, ignoring Gil-young calling out his name again behind him. The world seemed unsteady around him as he walked, shifting and tilting with his every step. He had to get out of here before he forgot how to breathe. It didn't matter where. Somewhere. Anywhere . Just not here.
He wasn't sure how long he was walking for. It didn't matter, not really. The world slowly faded back out around him as he walked. The too bright colours and too loud sounds faded back into the same muffled distance as before. Aching emptiness slowly replaced the anger too, not completely drowning it out but dulling it to a throb rather than a searing burn. It didn't matter, none of it mattered, not right now. He just had to keep walking. Keep moving or else he'd drown in the water that had covered everything else.
He didn’t even notice the car until it had pulled over in front of him. He stopped, the sounds of crunching gravel and the sudden appearance of red tail lights in front of him making him pause with vaguely felt surprise. It was dark now, or at least darker than he remembered. When had that happened?
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Gil-young’s voice was muffled, but he could at least mostly make out the words. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
His voice sounded wrong again, too far away. He could feel his mouth moving, but it didn’t feel like him speaking. Gil-young paused before sighing. “Come on, I’m not letting you walk all the way home.”
Yoon obliged, following her to the car and climbing in slowly. It felt strange to be still again. The movement of the car was still there but it felt as distant from him as everything else. They drove in silence for several minutes, maybe longer- he knew better than to trust his sense of time right now. There had been a heaviness in the silence since they’d left the city that afternoon but it was different now. Yoon supposed it would maybe feel suffocating if he could muster the energy to care.
“Yoon…”
“I don’t really want to talk right now.” Talking would require him to put thought and effort into staying with his surroundings and that, quite frankly, sounded like the last thing Yoon wanted to do right now. The distance was better than the crushing too much of everything around him and the pressure cracking him open. So it was better to maintain it, at least for now. He knew he couldn’t maintain it forever, but he knew he didn’t have to. He just had to until he was alone.
Gil-young didn’t try to talk again until she’d pulled up in front of his apartment. Yoon could feel her watching him, hesitating. “Are you going to be okay tonight?”
“I’ll be fine.”
It was a lie and he knew they both knew it. He wondered briefly if she’d press him on it. After a moment, though, she sighed. “Call me if you need anything. I mean it."
Yoon nodded and opened the door. Everything shifted slightly now that he was moving again, nothing quite feeling real as he slowly climbed the steps to his door. He could feel the familiarity of the space around him as he unlocked the door but it did nothing to help ground him. That was fine, really. Maybe even preferable. It was, at the very least, numb, and that was what he wanted right now. What he knew how to handle.
He grabbed a bottle of soju without much thought, opening it and taking a drink mechanically. The edges of the world were starting to press back in around him, slowly but surely, and he didn’t want that right now. He didn’t want to deal with how sharp the world was or how loud. He didn’t want to deal with the low burn of anger he could still feel in his chest or the various other unnamed emotions- he wouldn't name them, he refused to name them- buried underneath. He didn’t want to deal with any of it. He wanted to be numb. Numb was safe. It was comfortable and painless and that was all he wanted right now. He’d feel everything later- there’d be no choice but to feel it. He knew that. But not right now. He took another drink- if nothing else, just not right now.
Hwa-pyung pressed the ice pack against his cheek, wincing. Yoon's punch had landed hard and he knew he'd have a bruise in the morning. He'd always assumed that if either of them was going to end up punching him- for any reason, really, there were usually several to go with- it would probably be Gil-young, not Yoon. He supposed he should maybe find it odd for a priest of all people to have such a strong right hook, but Yoon had always seemed to be full of surprises like that.
He hadn't expected to see either of them standing outside the house when he'd opened the door. He hadn't expected to see either of them ever , really. He'd taken steps specifically to avoid that- staying in the country, living in a nearby village rather than Gyeyangjin, keeping as low a profile as he could just to be safe. It had been for their safety; he was fairly sure Park Il-do was gone but he knew he might never really know for certain, and it wasn't worth putting Yoon or Gil-young at risk if he was wrong. It had hurt- from the day he’d been pulled out of the ocean until this morning it had hurt- but it had been necessary.
He probably should have seen the issues with the packages coming though. Gil-young was a detective after all- a good one too- of course she would figure it out. A few extra precautions probably wouldn’t have made that much of a difference but he probably should have taken them all the same. She and Yoon were in the city, though, and the longer Hwa-pyung had lived out here the more he’d come to understand just how far a distance that was. He’d made the drive plenty of times to visit his grandfather, but it was different actually living out here. Even if the actual distance itself wasn’t that great, it felt far. Separate. It had felt like enough distance to keep from being discovered and he knew his great uncle wasn’t likely to figure out where the packages were coming from on his own, so any extra steps to conceal it had felt unnecessary. Clearly he’d been wrong about that though.
He sat down on the porch steps, opening the beer he’d brought out with him and looking out over the village spread on the hill below. It was a familiar sight by now. He’d spent plenty of nights over the past year just like this- sitting on the steps with a drink and taking in the lights and dark water below him. He’d told himself that familiarity was the feeling of the village becoming his home. Some nights it had even almost worked. There had been something comforting about being so separate from everything he’d known previously. The odd jobs around town he’d taken to doing as he’d healed had provided enough money for him to get by and had been a good enough distraction to mostly keep his mind off of everything. The villagers mostly gave him a wide berth and he had spent his days recovering and working and piecing together a small, quiet life. It had been fine.
It wasn’t home, though. Hwa-pyung knew that. He’d appreciated the familiarity that had come over the months but he knew the small village would never be what he kept trying to convince himself it was going to be. He would have been able to live with that. A little emptiness, a little lying to himself- he had made bigger sacrifices for less return throughout his life. Returning simply hadn’t been an option, and that made it easier. Even the least ideal of circumstances could be softened when there was no other choice.
Hwa-pyung took a drink. Maybe it wasn’t his only choice anymore though. Protecting Gil-young and Yoon had been the only thing keeping him from returning to the city. It was nice to be closer to his grandfather, of course, but the proximity also brought a pain with it and he could keep an eye on his grandfather easily enough even from the city. There would be more work in the city too. Hwa-pyung wasn’t naive enough to think he’d ever have something as stable as an actual career. Years of chasing Park Il-do had resulted in a history of half-learned trades and far from a good work history, and he knew people would be hesitant to hire him simply because of how he looked; scars carried a strong stigma, and he knew most people would probably assume he had a…less than legal past. He’d gotten good at labour jobs here in the village though, and he knew there was more than enough demand for that in the city too for him to get by. Maybe he’d even have the chance to be a part of Gil-young and Yoon’s lives again. Well, Gil-young’s at least. He wasn’t quite so sure he’d be welcome back in Yoon’s.
He brought his hand up to the rosary around his neck absentmindedly. The feeling of the small cross in his hand was as familiar by now as the sight of the village below him. He took another drink, longer than the last one, and tried not to think of how happy he’d felt when he’d recognized the figures standing outside the house. He’d missed them. Both of them. A year had made the emptiness of their absence a little easier to bear, but he’d known it probably wouldn’t ever go away fully. He supposed he could let himself be happy to see Gil-young; there had been confusion in her expression and Hwa-pyung knew well enough how tightly she could hold onto anger, but there’d been relief in her expression too. Happiness. She hadn’t stayed long- whether it was needing to find Yoon, needing to process everything, or both he wasn’t entirely sure- but she’d hugged him tightly before she’d left, calling him an idiot in the affectionate tone he’d missed so much over the past year. She’d even given him her number again, telling him to call or text her. That she wanted to hear from him. It felt too soon to reach out yet- allowing a little space seemed wise- but she’d been clear. He had no doubt that things would never quite go back to how they’d been, but it was something.
There hadn’t been any happiness in Yoon’s expression though. There had been shock and confusion at first, more intense and strained than what had been in Gil-young’s expression. And then it had shifted a raw anger that would have stopped Hwa-pyung even if it hadn’t been immediately followed by a punch. Hwa-pyung’s grip on the rosary tightened as he tried to push the image from his mind. He didn't want that to be how he remembered Yoon, not when he knew there was the very real chance Yoon might not want to see him again. That amount of anger wasn't something that went away quickly, if at all. Hwa-pyung wanted to see him again- wanted to apologize, to explain, to do whatever he could- but he knew that wasn't his call to make.
He sighed, staring out at the black expanse of water beyond the village. When he'd walked into it a year ago, he hadn't intended to ever come back out. He supposed it was only fair that he finally face the consequences of being wrong about that.