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Han-Seo never would’ve thought he’d actually get here.
When he took that bullet, his life had flashed before his eyes, and he knew, that was it. Reliving memories of his short and blissful carefree childhood, before his mother’s death was a stamp mark to the abuse he would face for years to come.
Glimpses of the more remarkable highlights, involving a glass shard originally from his personal mirror, his favorite quill, the knife used for his birthday cake, the soccer ball he could never see the same again, his father’s belt that was a gift from Han-Seo’s mother (which his father never even noticed went missing. Han-Seo was just glad he never had to see that particular belt again after Han-Seok was done with it), the cons of hockey…
The list went on, and it all passed through his vision in a matter of seconds, before he was looking into Han-Seok’s eyes yet again… and maybe for the last time, as the bullet went through his torso.
Shuddering, he dropped to the floor, watching as Han-Seok aimed the gun at Vincenzo and Cha-Young. A devastating sense of failure, which lifted when the gun clicked.
Empty. It was out of bullets. And Han-Seok fled, but Han-Seo didn’t care… much. He knew Vincenzo would catch him, and for once, Han-Seo could effectively be useful in his life, with a final parting gift to the one person who actually didn’t abuse him under the name of a brotherly relationship.
“You know what to do.”
Vincenzo looked genuinely remorseful. It was touching. Looking at Vincenzo’s face above him, being cradled in his arms… Han-Seo came to the realization that there had been one more thing he wanted, but wasn’t going to get.
His eyes had closed, and he never expected to open them again.
But then he did, and as he stared at the ceiling, a rhythmic beeping to his side, Han-Seo’s first thought was, surprisingly, not of Han-Seok, but Vincenzo. He wondered where the Italian was, and more importantly, if he would get to see him again.
He couldn’t pursue the train of thought before his eyes were already closing again, but not before the door of his room opened, and a man clad in a familiar suit walked in.
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Later, he would find out that Vincenzo brought him to Malta. With Babel in ruins, Han-Seok and his lackeys dead, there was nothing much left for Han-Seo in Korea anyway. Not to mention, as far as the officials were concerned, Han-Seo had died by his brother’s hand, finally marking Han-Seok as a criminal wanted for an inescapable crime, among the others.
Sometimes, Han-Seo found it ironic. The world thought his brother to be alive and on the run, and him dead, when really, it was the other way around.
But Han-Seo wasn’t on the run. On the island Vincenzo brought him to, claiming it a place for healing, which Vincenzo was adamant that Han-Seo was a part of, Han-Seo was rediscovering himself, freed from his brother’s shackles like he hadn’t been since before he could remember.
And there was another perk to this whole thing, which was Vincenzo Cassano himself.
Suave, confident, and seemingly distant, which made him all the more alluring, Han-Seo was gone, hook, line, and sinker for the man. And with his newfound freedom, it was a secret that couldn’t be qualified as such when he gushed it out as soon as the first time he was allowed to get drunk on an outing with Vincenzo. The memory of that night, despite blurred through alcohol, would forever remain seared in Han-Seo’s mind, where much to his surprise, instead of pushing him away, Vincenzo had reciprocated. It was the last thing Han-Seo expected, and apart from the initial befuddlement and insecurity, Han-Seo was quick to latch on without letting go — albeit, always conscious of cautious of pushing Vincenzo too far.
A lifetime with Han-Seok wasn’t going to erase Han-Seo’s trauma easily, confessions of a mutually reciprocated love notwithstanding.
And yet, being with Vincenzo was easy. Sure, there was the fear of something new, the fear of pushing him away, of going too far and making Vincenzo regret bringing him here. But no matter what he did, Vincenzo would only ever smile, a thoughtful look reflected in his eyes as he calmly took him in.
Han-Seo was growing addicted to that smile. The one that spoke of amusement, entertainment, and ever increasing fondness. Every time Vincenzo looked at him like that, everything else would fall away, and Han-Seo felt like they were in their own world.
And Vincenzo must have been aware of that, because he’d only ever feed into it. The first time they made love, whatever past… experiences Han-Seo might’ve had were washed away with the gentle care Vincenzo laid on him. Not once did he shy away from the scars on his body with disgust, but lavished them with attention, and when Han-Seo started to get too uncomfortable? Vincenzo merely moved on to the next one, making him relax and feel comforted unlike ever before.
So, yeah. Being with Vincenzo was a reward Han-Seo couldn’t have imagined he’d live to obtain, mostly because the unfathomable thought would never have dared cross his mind with the life he was used to living. But now?
Right now, Han-Seo was getting ready for a date night, one of the rare occasions Vincenzo wasn’t too swamped over with work, and he was determined to enjoy every last second of it, like with all the nights prior, and all the many, many more nights to come.