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WHEN IS A MONSTER NOT A MONSTER?
The round, bright eyes filled with streaming tears — those that could easily be mistaken for the rain pouring down on him on that freezing night, but when Dongshik's gentle, tired eyes crossed with Joo-won's it was clear to see the palpable grief. No words were spoken for the first five minutes, they just shared the same rhythm of breathing.
"Love, look at me.", the elder's deep voice brought him back to reality. There was a certain amount of both sympathy and concern in his eyes, it always had. Joo-Won blinked twice and felt his posture go rigid as Dong-shik's body moved closer, six steps closer and they were face to face. "I can't stay."
"What?"
"After I find Yu-yeon, you can arrest me however you want. But only after all this is over, the last thing I want right now is to run away from you so when the time is right, I'll come back to you.", the bitter words left Dong-shik's mouth loaded with guilt like a triggered gun and the smaller man's chest tightened instantly.
"Don't go, please..."
"There is no benefit to you if I stay here. I need to put an end to all this."
"I can do it! I-I will get justice, he is my father after all!"
Complete silence. The smaller man's lips trembled, being restrained by his own slightly sharp teeth as he bit his lip firmly until he could taste the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, realizing what exactly he was doing. The shock should have been evident on his swollen face from crying as Dong-shik paused for a minute, just kept holding his breath and staring at the man as a glimmer about to break before his eyes while Joo-won found himself terrified by the comfort he felt at being hurt in such a way.
Say something!
"If you want to catch the monster, you have to become one too...," the pause in Dong-shik's voice caused shivers to run through the shorter man's body, watching his expression change. "And you are not a monster, angel."
All the sentences formed in his mind had faded amid the panic of feeling the warmth of the other's hands, quickly twisting his nose in agony as he pulled his own hands away.
Don't do this, he wanted to say, I'm not...clean.
I am a monster.
But he didn't say anything. He didn't need to after all. Dong-shik bowed his head in a thin smirk, walking away as the rain drenched his back, disappearing into the quiet street of Manyang's neighborhood. Joo-won stood there staring in the direction in which the silhouette of the larger man was completely gone, he didn't had the strength to turn around and go home, and when his knees failed him on the pavement, he allowed them to bleed from the scratch marks. The thin skin torn was not the only thing close to blood, all the memories of the past few months were burning him up inside, leaving nothing but grief and anger.
The anger lingered for days as soon as he returned home, certainly haunted, breaking down on the clean and neat couch; formerly the organization of every detail made his heart beat faster, as if he was secure inside, now is too big, too cold, too empty so he just faced the open window of the living room and stood there for hours and hours.
"He'll be back, don't be an idiot," tried to reason properly. Night came and he was still there searching for any lingering glimpse of Dong-shik inside every single clothe, putting on a shirt of his boyfriend's before leaving home determined to put an end to it.
It didn't matter what kind of end it would be.
"Dong Shik-ah,
I will be the monster. I will do it for you."
The message written by trembling, tiny fingers was the only chance to get the man's return, although he didn't wait long enough for a reply. If someone had said that the only thing capable of pulling him out of that pit and apathy was his own father's face, he would have burst out laughing, but there he was crossing the city and ignoring the traffic lights — and the warnings in his mind that he was not quite alright, just to get there faster amidst the conflicting thoughts;
"Inspector Han, if your father is involved in my sister's death, do you think you'll be okay?" the memory popped into his mind and a wry sneer escaped his lips in a weak laugh. Oh fuck, I must be losing my mind!
Joo-won's thin, soft hands gripped the steering wheel, clenching it until his hands turned whitish from blood pressure at the same moment the traffic light turned green, going at the same speed — it was already an incurable habit how fast he drove through the city, not taking long to reach his father's apartment complex. Headlights off, heavy breathing and shaky hands defined the man's physical and mental state as the steps were quickly climbed as if he was being timed.
DING DONG!
DING, there's no turning back now.
DONG, fuck. Fuck!
The sound of the doorbell echoed a few more times in the doorway before the electronic front door could be opened, revealing the pathetically empty, rigid silhouette of Joo-won's father, the man's expression gave no hint of any form of appreciation or happiness at his son's visit.
"Han Joo-won?" the question made their eyes meet, Joo-won nodded as if being interrogated by something terrible and soon his eyes dispersed towards the door and the way his father was blocking the door, letting only a very small part of the house be available to him. "What are you doing here?"
His eyes squeezing shut as if he was trying to bear his presence there.
"I came to see you."
"What for?"
"May I come in...?", Joo-won asked feeling an inkling of hope rising in his chest and waited there at the door like a child for a few seconds that seemed necessary for Ki-hwan to decide. Eyes glazed over at the father figure so cold, it only made him feel worse as he realized the familiar desire to be recognized.
I came to kill you, and yet I long to be looked at. Mm, pathetic.
"Say what you need to say and then go away," it was obvious he was angry about the leaked evidence about his connection to the case. The younger nodded, disappearing into the limbo as he entered the house so roomy it was capable of holding all his memories in there like a graveyard, and all attempts to crawl out of the dirt ground just to leave that house seemed so futile, he kept returning to it.
Slow footsteps frozen in time directed them both to the living room, the glass table already contained a medium glass of whiskey, indicating that the man had already drunk and the percentage of alcohol in his blood was enough that he didn't have all his senses sharpened. Joo-won sat on the couch, watching his father's every move, who stood up with the empty glass to pour more whiskey; the blade was at the edge of his skin, being hidden by his closed palm and no matter how long it took or how bruised he would come out, the intention to kill him was clear. Han Joo-won would not give up.
"I will kill you.", was the first word that left Joo-won's lips. The man's rigid posture made clear his surprise at hearing this, he left his glass propped up on the drinks table and turned around in disbelief, mouth half-open and eyes quivering with anger.
"What did you just say?"
"I said I will fucking kill you. You told me that for years, you told me to die every time I got a low grade or didn't stay silent like I was supposed to, so why can't I say the same to you?", Dong-sik's vicious smile appeared in his mind as approval, getting lost in the small glimpse of his boyfriend.
"You brat, I should have put a bullet in your head when I had the chance,"
Oh. It was the only time Joo-won felt he was loved, when the gun pointed at his head had his father's fingers on the trigger. He wanted to put an end to the monster he created, after all. The gun still burned on his forehead in the nights awake when believing in God sounded like an illusion. Believing in his own father sounds like a fucking sin.
And there it was. The familiar rage was burning before his eyes.
The older man's movement was unsteady and seemed immersed in his own anger at feeling disrespected by his son, he took a few steps towards the younger one who stood up from the couch, the arms raised in the air and the father's intention was not to hug him, it was of pure violence.
"I always wondered if you loved me, if you were capable of loving me if I was good enough," if. if. if. The steps froze in time and both of them were fighting a war of stares. "But I don't think that's possible anymore, I've waited all these years. I made myself quiet, kind, good for an murderer's son at the end of the day..."
"That was never the point, Han Joo-won. I didn't see you as someone who deserved to be loved, your mother knew that from the moment you were born."
"You can't even call me son!", Joo-won shouted to the sky knowing that there was no god to answer him. Before his father could even respond, the younger man's thin, pale hands were nimble to free themselves from the guilt and the blade slipped from his hands in a painful grimace, finding itself in contact with the man's wrinkled neck. The cut took about two seconds for the line — which through desperation and lack of preparation could not be symmetrical, to appear next to the blood that formed small bubbles before running down the skin, soiling the white button-down shirt.
The shock on the older man's face was not silent, even though the trembling mouth could not express itself, the wide-open eyes were responsible for conveying all the despair and pain inside; the blood kept gushing, the artery had been hit and soon he lay weak on the carpet holding nothing but regret and sorrow. Then, there, his face changed to something young and horribly fearful as he tried to reach for Joo-won's leg who just stood there, still with his gaze glazed on the bloody scene.
"You killed her, didn't you?" his father looked at him. That was enough, he knew it was true anyway. "I couldn't let you fuck it up for me again, dad, you understand, don't you?", the man kept trying to reach for his pants and in a moment he succeeded, bloody fingers tugging at his social pants were practically crushed by the younger man as soon as he noticed the close physical contact with his skin. "Let go of me, your disgusting blood is staining my clothes," and pushed him away without sympathy.
"S-son..." the struggling vocal cords made the blood gush out more and more, Han Joo-won caught himself enjoying the scene. He bent down to touch the open cut, the grunt of pain didn't stop him. The crimson blood almost glowing as it goes dirty on the white carpet, in big letters he almost says "I WILL LEARN TO LOVE THIS MONSTER", but he doesn't.
"Hm? Did you say something?"
"N-no, stop! Stop!", but it was too late. Agony was burning in his chest, so was joy, and the first thing that became clear was that the only thing they shared was their last name, nothing beyond that. And when the night was over, they would be free.
"You were my fucking father!", Joo-won squirmed, his hands hanging down his blood-drenched neck. "Then why the fuck couldn't you be my father like someone normal?"
His body slowly lost its life, his legs no longer struggling, his lungs no longer begging for air, and his eyes lost focus like those of a fish out of the sea. Han Joo-won felt like he could take a deep breath for the first time in months.
Uh-uh. What a mess!
THE HOUSE IS ON FIRE, Han Joo-won tried to say, but nothing came out. Ki-hwan looked into his son's eyes one last time before his lashes closed and this time, he would be sure to come out of the rubble alive; The mess was already made, there was no one to stop him when the blade slid easily into his father's neck.
There was no one to stop the blood longing for blood.
[...]
Dong-sik stared at the phone screen after blinking several times, not wanting to believe the message he had received. "Han Joo-won, you're not a fucking monster!" he muttered only to himself as he got into the car and drove back to town. The calls were all falling into the voicemail, with only the tracking option — a function he doubted his boyfriend knew existed — left, connecting him and a sigh left his lips as he recognized the address written there.
He had gone to seek justice.
"Dammit!", all traffic laws did not apply to him at that moment, signs ignored and detours taken made him park the car in front of the man's house much faster than he expected.
The cloudy sky and the first raindrops should have served as a warning for the horror show that Dong-shik would see as soon as he entered the house, but it didn't, he hurried out of the car in quick steps ignoring the rain wetting his suit to enter the quiet, almost haunted house.
As he entered the house, the lack of light stopped being an obstacle as soon as he heard someone's uneasy breathing echoing, breaking the silence and breaking his heart too as he recognized that the agony was coming from his boyfriend.
"Joo won-ah?", Dong-shik's shaky voice echoed as well, mingling with the panic-filled breath, even though it hadn't earned a response back. The flashlight was illuminating the corner of the couch and quickly made its way to the carpet, startled by the coloring. Pure red, bloody red.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
"Angel? Are you hurt?" urgency rose in his voice. No response. "Please, I just need to know if you're hurt, hm?"
He came back. He really came back to me!
"D-don't come over here."
"Why not, love? Are you hurt?"
"No."
"I might need more than that. Damn, I can't see a shit in this dark!"
Dong-shik's fingers touched the interrupter. "No! Don't turn on the lights!" quickly an agonized, fearful scream echoed the same instant the lights were turned on.
Oh.
The grotesque bloody scene took the officer by surprise, his eyes filled with terror searching for Joo-won's injured body, but only found Han Ki-Hwan's lifeless body lying flat on the floor anyway, throat cut open exposed.
"He did it," Joo-won whimpered, the tears streaming down his face and mixing with the drops of blood there. He didn't even know he had soiled himself. "Dong shik-ah, I'm sorry. I-I-I, my god, I'm sorry!" the shame of being the son of a corrupt murderer had him terrified in a matter of seconds.
Dong-shik's knees went weak, falling to the ground amidst Ki-hwan's dirty blood. He had finally found the killer, Yu-yeon, his sister, could finally rest in peace.
Joo-won removed his hands from his face as soon as he noticed his boyfriend's presence so close, he was kneeling in front of him and his first instinct was to reach out and wrap him in a warm embrace, but the fear of rejection — after having killed someone — hit him hard. The hand raised weakly in the air to reach Dong-shik briefly, with much disappointment, was lowered and the act was hidden as if he had never thought of touching his boyfriend.
But the intention did not go unnoticed, the elder looked at him with a heartened and unburdened look; what broke his heart was to find Joo-won curled up, scared to death.
"Love?" he called out. Eyes meeting, both of them with tears on their faces. "Come here." arms were opened to the bloody silhouette who disappeared there within that warm embrace, putting all the broken pieces back into places.
"I'm sorry."
"I know, I'm sorry too."
"Are you mad at me?"
"What?", Dong-shik almost choked. There was no possibility that he was mad at Joo-won. "No, hey, look at me, hm?"
So Joo-won did. Sparkling round eyes stared into Dong-shik's face, who stared back at him.
"I would never be mad at you for killing my sister's murderer, do you get it?", Joo-won nodded. "Okay. Hmmmm, my baby boy is getting brave now."
He is not mad. He loves me.
A genuine smile lit up Joo-won's face, and there he was, with a dead body on the floor, his hands covered in blood and his face partially dirty too, but what really mattered was that they could be together now. Dong-shik looked at him again, the only thing that came to mind was a delirium that that scene, no matter how bizarre, was the occasion when Joo-won was most visually attractive and consumable.
"I let you see me," didn't need many words, the intention had always been to be seen the way he really was. And yet, to be loved.
He showed his teeth full of filthy, bloody, human skin to scare him, Dong-shik didn't even flinch.
"Well, you wanted to be seen, didn't you?" it was clear that he did, or he would have made some effort to alter the crime scene or hide the corpse.
"By you.", Joo-won squirmed into his arms. "Only by you."
That was enough for him. All hellfire would burn that house down, he would be sure of that; the walls of the haunted house created him, so he could burn them now. It wasn't goodbye, though.
He was the ghost of that haunted place.
"Hm, let's go home, it's too boring there without you," he complained and earned a laugh from the older man as he noticed the pout forming on his lips.
Dong-shik looked genuinely happy. And once again, not even the rain bothered them.
OH, WHEN YOU LOVE IT.