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Lee Dongsik is used to many things in his life. He is used to the cold chill of Manyang's residents, as they glance at him - eyes narrowed in suspicion and derision. He is used to the sound of Oh Jihoon's laughter, unprompted and bright. He is used to Jihwa's curt voice and warm eyes, Jeongje's hand on his shoulder, and Chief Nam Sangbae's brusque affection. He is used to the hollow, ferocious ache in his chest when he hears Yuyeon's name. (It used to shock him, how his entire abdomen seemed to seize up when he thought about her smile. Now, though, he is used to the feeling of his body clenching around the memories and sister he cannot get back. The sister he cannot find or understand or even recognize anymore.) He is also - funnily enough - used to Han Juwon.
Working as partners for mere months has allowed him to learn Han Juwon well. If there is something Dongsik is good at, it is observation. He has been searching for signs of a known smell, a familiar laugh, for 21 years. He puts this skill to use on his reluctant partner. There are a couple things Dongsik knows like the back of his own hand. One - Han Juwon hates the sensation of filth. He despises the idea of germs, contact with other people, and being near unknown surfaces or dishware without it being sanitized or cleaned first. Two - Han Juwon is wealthy but not vain; he dresses well and keeps fastidiously clean, but he does not look down on the rural countrypeople around him. He does not understand them, but he does not antagonize them, either. Three- Han Juwon is a coiled livewire. He is easy to tease, easy to push, easy to rile; one word and Han Juwon is snarling, hands furled in Dongsik’s collar and vitriol resting on the tip of his tongue. Dongsik has only to slide his eyes to Joowon and wait as some barb or another lands and watch as a muscle in Joowon's cheek ticks and twitches.
It is particularly vicious when Juwon’s righteous justice turns its blade on Dongsik; Dongsik has lost count of the times Juwon has confronted him, one hand fisted in his collar and imperious attempts to force a confession out of him, lush commands dripping from his tongue, as if they were second nature. ( Cheeky prince, he teases, but something warm and heavy and traitorous twists in him whenever Han Juwon orders him around with that self-assured baritone voice.)
This is why, after losing Minjeong and all the unabashed warmth she infused into his unworthy life, Lee Dongsik cannot manage the Han Juwon that returns. If the old, prim Han Juwon was an ‘ice prince’, this Han Juwon is every bit the indolent, cheeky prince Dongsik mirthfully accused him of being. He is rude, and brusque, and smiling all throughout it. (He tries to ignore how the way Juwon’s laugh climbs up at the end mimics Minjeong’s.) But as Juwon swoops into the substation, in the midst of brawling, screeching old ladies, Dongsik has to catch a breath. Han Juwon with his hair slicked back and his gaze firm and cold is a sight for sore eyes, but a Juwon with longer, loose hair falling over his forehead and a loose smile across his face is almost vulgar.
It’s not that Dongsik can’t manage it anymore. Of course he can. He has lost his sister. He has lost his adoptive daughter. He has lost his partner. He has lost his father, his life, his freedom, and his peace. He has broken himself to build himself up again for 21 years. It is nothing new. Which is why he knows some things have to be constant to be manageable. Jihoon’s vivacious energy is consistent, which makes it manageable instead of frustrating. Nam Sangbae always smiles when he disses someone; that’s how Dongsik knows to really run if he’s in trouble. And Han Juwon is always someone to bite back when he is prodded. Dongsik can rely comfortably on this truth- it is the one thing that keeps him sane. Even if the world turns upside down, the sky turns red, and the clouds weep ichor - Han Juwon would rather break than bend.
Which is why it doesn’t make sense for Han Juwon to return after three months, robed in looser coats and unfurling a keen smile when he is prodded, before prodding right back . It's not just discomfitting, it's unnerving. Lee Dongsik has seen many things in his life. But he has had very little true reason to be unnerved. So he compiles all the instances where the boundary between Juwons blurs and someone almost a stranger is staring back at him.
Exhibit A - Han Juwon has rolled the patrol car’s window down. There is a brisk autumn bluster swaying its long arms, and the golden reed fields roll by like a blazing torrid sea. They are going on patrol for the first time since Juwon’s return, making their routine rounds around the small town. The broken street lights and narrow roads are inherently familiar, so Dongsik lets his mind (and eyes) wander every now and then. He is finding it a little hard to focus on the road when the wind is tousling Juwon’s hair like that. He cannot deal with this feeling. So he prods.
"Inspector Han Juwon - are you feeling better after your vacation? Ah- our flower-like doryeonnim , does the air here suit you after so long away? Let me know if you feel uncomfortable- I'm always ready to serve." He keeps his tone light and airy, swiping a cheshire grin across his face as he drives.
"Mm- I'd say Manyang air is good for me. I feel much better now I'm back home. You know how it is- partners have to stick to each other like glue. Now I have my partner with me, I have no need for anything else." Dongsik glances over to Juwon to see his eyes trained on the roads rushing by, a small smile pushing his cheeks into apples. Unnerving, unnerving, unnerving. Dongsik almost cannot respond, having glimpsed that oddly sincere smile. He has to turn this around.
"Then will you stop showing up in my basement, flinging accusations left and right, now? I have a front door, you know. I can even treat my lovely partner to some coffee or tea before he starts telling me how I'm the devil incarnate."
"I'll consider it, if you consider replacing that coffee with water. You know, at your ripe age, you shouldn't have too much caffeine. I need my partner to live long. He has to turn himself in, after all." Juwon's voice is warm and Dongsik has to hold back a shudder. Little brat.
"Ah, Juwon-ah, you're hurting my heart. You want to switch out the coffee so I live longer, but you'll still level threats of imprisonment?"
A thready, thready pulse thrums in Dongsik's head; some part of this is jest, but another part inside him is desperate to know if this new Juwon is still out of reach. If he is just looser and shot through with renewed determination to tear Dongsik apart again. He recollects the haechi Juwon had mentioned, and imagines being impaled on horns of cold, gleaming bone. Flesh rended apart, dripping blood, fingertips cleaved off- he wonders if Juwon believes him a dishonest man. He wonders if it bothers him if Juwon does.
“I have to keep you on your toes, don’t I, Inspector. Otherwise you’ll get too comfy with your promotion.”
Han Juwon is staring at him, eyelids lowered indecently. Han Juwon is grinning like a kid. Han Juwon is talking back . Dongsik feels a bolt of shock race down his spine at the easy way Juwon banters back.
“Be careful, Inspector Han, we’re at the same rank now. You should talk more respectfully, instead of wagging your tongue,” Dongsik shoots back, donning his mercurial grin, eyes still on the road.
Juwon just hums in response, before picking up the melody of whatever song is murmuring quietly on the radio, before he breaks in again,
“Almost done on this side, Inspector Lee Dongsik-ssi. Shall I take it on our way back?”
Dongsik is about to say no, but then the thought of sneaking glances at Juwon’s hands handling the wheel and watching the speed demon lazily push the accelerator with expert ease makes him reconsider. (Something about that fine-boned hand gliding along the smooth leather makes his stomach flip a little bit.)
“Sure, doryeonnim . This chauffeur will switch seats if it makes the young master happy.”
Lee Dongsik didn’t know whether to feel relieved or a little upset when a slight wrinkle forms between Juwon’s eyebrows and the atmosphere turns cold again. He's not sure if this new Juwon will stick around (and not yet sure if he misses the Juwon that is easier to rile.)
Hm. For now, he will wait and watch.
Exhibit B - it is almost a week later. Han Juwon is helping Jaeyi cook dinner, shirtsleeves pushed up and a faint blush burning on his cheeks, his neck. He had, earlier that day, carefully swiped a shovel from Chief Nam and helped dig pits in the deer farm. Dongsik - ashamedly - remembers the straight slope of his shoulders in that shearling jacket and the easy, familiar way he grabbed the shovel (dirty, previously touched, poorly cleaned and handled) and swung himself into the cradle of earth. And now, he has washed his hands and is carefully chopping vegetables and peeling green onions into loping, pale slivers. Annoying doryeonnim. Normal people shouldn't look so good concentrating on peeling green onions.
The others are sitting at the round tables, chattering over a simmering stew. There is a fierce chill outside, but the butcher shop is warm, Jaeyi is carefully grilling meat, and Oh Jihoon's riotous laughter crackles and rushes over the sound of the others. The quiet fervor of the setting sun outside casts the shop in smeared shards of lavender and crimson light. Dongsik has spent years chasing mirages and mites of news, but on nights like these, he thinks he might be content even if he was left searching for the rest of his life. And of course, there is the new variable of Han Juwon to deal with. Annoying, pretty flower of an inspector.
"Dongsik hyung! Tell noona that I'm a good partner! She’s saying you picked Inspector Han because I was useless!" Oh Jihoon is sputtering with outrage, beet-red from Oh Jihwa's teasing.
"Mm-hm, Jihwa-ya, our Jihoonie is a great partner. Don't you know? He works hard, he learns quickly, he's a great sport, he makes the best instant coffee, he makes lots of mistakes-"
"Yah- Dongsik hyung!"
Dongsik laughs till his chest hurts a little, and feels warm at the sound of Jihwa's victorious crowing and the look on Jihoon's sullen face. He slides his glance to his current partner, still standing and chopping things, and finds Juwon's gaze resting on him already. The thought of Han Juwon taking the time to study Dongsik as he laughs without abandon is a little dizzying. Dangerous, he prods himself, thoughts like those are dangerous. He grins and raises a brow, as if asking well, what? Han Juwon jolts a little, caught, and then mouths something. Dongsik has trouble reading his lips, and jerks his head. What?
He watches Han Juwon carefully enunciate something again, the chatter fading away. Ah - the little brat. Cheeky little doryeonnim, the nerve on him! Look who's talking, Inspector. Dongsik mimes considering the question, and then sticks his tongue out. Han Juwon rolls his eyes before turning away to help Jaeyi load food onto plates. Dongsik takes the opportunity and looks away, unable to stop the little smile on his face, just to see Yoo Jaeyi, who has been watching the whole time. She grins at him, smug, and leans back against the kitchen counter as if waiting for him to explain. Dongsik just smiles and puts a piece of kimchi in her bowl, so that she can see it. Thankfully, she just laughs quietly and says nothing more.
Annoying friends. Annoying, chipper friends who see everything.
But by then, Jaeyi joins Juwon, who is carrying plates and bowls to the table, and he slides into the empty seat at Dongsik's elbow. He is flushed from the grill's heat and the exertion and Dongsik has to try very hard not to shudder at the warmth emanating from his solid form. Dongsik slides an unused, clean bowl to him and Juwon dips a shallow nod in thanks.
"Our Inspector Han, we're very glad you're back! Jaeyi-yah- our love, the light of our lives, the one who fills our bellies with the best food - we're very glad you're back! Everyone - do you have money?" Chief Nam Sangbae was a good public speaker, and goaded on by tipsy colleagues and cheers, reached a level of almost cultic enthusiasm. A chorus of 'no!'s sounded.
"Are you in good health?"
"No!"
"Anything to live for? Then, let's drink!"
The members at the table cheer and clink their glasses. Juwon's hand twitches in his lap, wincing a little at the alcohol sloshing over cup brims and onto the table's surface. Dongsik rummages in his pockets before slipping over a set of wet wipes; the little prince would surely try to seem unaffected, but his older habits died hard. Han Juwon glared at him a little, before murmuring a quiet thank you, without any of the earlier artifice. He wiped the area around his own bowl, before stretching his hand out to clean around Dongsik's bowl too, almost mindlessly. Dongsik felt that familiar thrum of terror and fondness jolt through him whenever he realized he wasn't going to be able to just get over Han Juwon. (He was tempted, more and more each day, by the idle fantasy of a Han Juwon who was his partner because he wanted to be, instead of being there just to pull apart and poke holes in his alibis.) So, just to be a little shit, he smiled at his partner, eyes gleaming, and chirped 'thank you' in accented English just to watch Juwon cringe a little bit. Han Juwon shook his head, a little disgusted, as he discarded the wet wipe. Ha ha. Success.
On the walk back home, plied by the free-flowing alcohol and the image of Juwon’s cheeks puffing up as he chews his food, he wonders why the haughty inspector is putting on this show. Careful smiles, ceding ground and comfort to fit into Manyang again. It irks him that this Juwon seems so well-suited to Manyang. Even in his fancy car and shiny shoes, the same Manyang grit and charm sticks to him like glue. He wonders how far Han Juwon is willing to push to drive Dongsik to confession. He wonders why it no longer pricks when Juwon mentions Yuyeon and points fingers at him. He wonders why he looks forward to patrol drives with Han Juwon, if only so that he can breathe the same air as him and feel the heavy, lingering weight of his gaze. He wonders if Han Juwon is putting on an elaborate show and if the easy comfort and back-and-forth between them is short-lived.
(Something inside him wonders when this fragile thing between them will snap, and how he will deal with picking up the broken pieces.)
Exhibit C - the next time Lee Dongsik is forced to confront the fragility of this thing between them, the webs around little Manyang and its lost people are getting a little too vast to hold onto. Lee Dongsik is driving in the bloody grasp of the night. He is on a call with Han Juwon. He knows a couple of things like the back of his hand. Han Juwon is the same age as Lee Sangyeob (28 years old, were he still alive). Han Juwon is in a car, racing towards the dark-wine-embrace of the raging sea. Han Juwon is hellbent on reaching Nam Sangbae, desperately trying to make it in time. Han Juwon is potentially racing towards an early grave.
Lee Dongsik knows how to manage loss. He has lost his sister. He has lost his adoptive daughter. He has lost his partner. He has lost his father, his life, his freedom, and his peace. He knows the piercing ache of another empty space next to him, another day to mark on the calendar, to hang on until another day circled in weary red ink, another memorial, another cruel anniversary.
But Lee Dongsik is tired.
He cannot do this anymore.
He cannot watch another partner be stolen from him. He cannot watch the only father he has known for 20 years slip away.
(He will not recover, should it happen.)
So he bites the inside of his cheek as Han Juwon echoes Lee Sangyeob's words. And he feels like he will shake apart as phantom memories clutch and clamor for his attention.
I'm following him.
I'll follow him. I won't lose him.
I'll catch this bastard no matter what.
"I'm coming there now. Be careful until then. Han Juwon - are you listening to me? Be careful until I get there!"
Lee Dongsik's heart is beating a relentless cacophony instead his chest; he keeps his eyes on the road, eyes narrowed, barely hearing Juwon's answer over the blood thrumming in his ears.
He does not remember the next few minutes in between. He reports Han Juwon's location and calls him his partner. He arrives at the scene to find blaring emergency lights, police cars singing their siren songs and blurry figures coalescing in the horizon. He can barely breath, clawing his way through police officers - one step further, one breath closer, one foot of distance between him and -
"He's passed away," Juwon murmurs, eyes downcast, shaking and drenched. He has been spit back by some nondescript deity onto land, narrowly escaping the jeering jowls of the ocean's dripping mouth. Nam Sangbae is not so lucky.
As it turns out, Dongsik is lying. He does not know how to manage loss. He has lost his sister. He has lost his adoptive daughter. He has lost his partner. He has lost his father, his life, his freedom, and his peace. He is punched in the face this time by the loss of a second father. Lee Dongsik is half-orphaned, once again.
He crumples to the ground. When will the world finally stop taking from him? He does not recognize a Lee Dongsik that has not been tempered by suffering. He does not know what Lee Dongsik will become if he keeps losing the only people holding him together.
The only thing that desperately holds him together are Han Juwon's hands, clasped around him. He feels the thin bones and dizzying heat of his fingertips. One slender fingertip scalds his neck where it slips over his jacket collar, wrenched low as he is sobbing and screaming. He feels the younger man's tears beat a dizzying rhythm on his cheek, his ear. He cannot breathe from the relief of finding Han Juwon whole. He wants to know what it feels like to feel the sun on his face without cringing from its warmth. He wants his second fucking father back. He is so, so tired of losing people.
Surprisingly enough, Han Juwon guides him back. He drives him back to his house. He pours him cold water, wraps a blanket around him.
He lies back on his couch, in the broad amber light of his basement, where they found his sister, inches away from where he has tortured himself in the glassy emptiness of midnight reveries. Han Juwon is in his basement without breaking and entering. Han Juwon is patting his hand to adjust the blanket below his arm. Huh, he thinks, out of it, today is a day of all days. Nothing in this world can surprise me anymore. But then he remembers Nam Sangbae is cold and alone, out of his reach, and groans, feeling as if someone has struck his sternum. He is grateful when Juwon says nothing else.
His partner just throws down a blanket on the ground, and tosses an arm over his eyes.
"Juwon-ah. How do I keep going." Dongsik's words are ephemeral in the quiet unreality of the night. Stupidly, he does not even believe the words actually came out.
The younger man is quiet, the stillness between them stretched into something taut and sharp as a blade.
"You don't, Inspector. You just turn yourself off. You cannot keep going, so you turn off whatever makes you yourself and what's left has to carry on."
Dongsik almost doesn't respond. Cannot, more like it. Somewhere, in all his grief, he has forgotten Han Juwon and whatever sterile, cold home forged him into brittle metal.
"Is that what you do, Inspector Han Juwon?" Dongsik is not easily cowed, but he almost fears Juwon's answer.
"Yes. That's what I used to do." A beat passes. Then two. "Before I came here." Again, Dongsik pictures Han Kihwan's stone-cold exterior and a young Juwon's will, clashing against that heartless, relentless force.
"And after you came? What would you do now?" Dongsik watches Juwon's side profile, that lovely, marble cheek carved out by the warm, buttery light of his basement. The younger man blinks, swallows. Dongsik cannot help but follow the line of his throat, the flushed, gleaming swell of his lips.
"I copy you. All of you. You all - you all feel everything so much. I think I've started to do the same."
Lee Dongsik pauses. And then- miraculously- he laughs. Lee Dongsik laughs and laugh and laughs, eyes crinkled into small webs of mirth, until what he assumed with amusement turns bitter. Suddenly, there are tears trailing down his cheeks.
"Thank you, Juwon-ah." He uses English, just to see Juwon squirm. But the younger man lets out a huff of laughter that sounds a little too close to a sob, and they both go quiet again.
Soon, Juwon is fast asleep, chest rising and falling in a hypnotizing cadence, and Dongsik fades into fitful sleep and dreams of cold funeral homes, a frothy sea, and Han Juwon asleep on the floor inches away from him.
Exhibit D- it is days later. Dongsik has been combing through the town, Jihwa, Jihoon, and Jaeyi pulling through investigations and interrogations with a manic, ferocious determination. And of course, their leader in fervency is Han Juwon. Dongsik urges him with a fickle grin,
"How can you be so passionate and make so many conclusions that are so wrong?" He fights down the urge to laugh out loud when Juwon side-eyes him, something well-worn and fatigued in his gaze before he starts walking faster, making his way to the substation. Dongsik sticks his hands in his pockets and jogs after him, yelling 'wait for me!' He is slowly gaining confidence in their ability to take down Lee Changjin and Do Haewon.
(He is also slowly gaining confidence in his partner; Juwon has pulled down the veil he's been putting up. He is both closer to his old self and farther away than he has ever been. He does not smile as easily as he did, but when he does, it is bright and a little self-conscious. He still pokes Lee Dongsik back, but he doesn't show up without an invitation to his basement anymore. He still minds his aversion to germs, but eats out of clean utensils in the butcher shop to gasps of praise and cheer. So he is a little the same as he was earlier, but also closer in new ways that Dongsik is desperate to latch onto.)
But their game is growing tighter, and the spiders spinning the web are drawing closer and closer. At some point, the blame has shifted from Do Haewon to Lee Changjin to Han Kihwan. All of them are guilty of sins, but Han Kihwan's hand is more tightly wrenched in the middle of all their deceit.
So when Han Juwon comes to his home in the rigid luster of the night, Dongsik doesn't know whether he comes as his partner or as the Commisioner General's son. (He feels ashamed at the thought, but cannot force it away. Dongsik trusts him blindly, but cannot see fully past the part of him that is suffocated under Han Kihwan’s cruel hand.)
There is a shroud of cloud cover lingering like malaise, the heavy sheets of rain shearing through the air. But Juwon is drenched in the chilling rain. He is also, possibly, crying. This is the most staggering revelation he has until that point. He is struck by the fierce conviction that he never wants to see Juwon cry again. (His face is scrunched up, an astute painting of picturesque misery. How much more will Dongsik grate on the happiness of those around him.)
"Han Juwon. What are you doing? Are you crazy?"
But then Juwon raises his hand and the recorded voice carries in the space between them. The staticky sound is oddly clear in the tightly wound silence between them, and Dongsik hears Han Kihwan confess to his twin sister's murder. 21 years. 21 years of searching and desperate hours spent driving to reach any reports of information and lost leads. And the answer is cradled in Han Juwon's hands, slick with rain and tears, spoken in the horrendous emptiness of the night.
Lee Dongsik's world falls apart, for what seems like the infinite time.
He sees bright, brilliant red. The color of Yuyeon's bright nails, stained with balsam. The color of the skin across Jeongje's knuckles when he clenches his fist, listening to the sugar-sweet voice of his mother. The color of his mother's cheeks, as she lies vacant and alone. The color of his father's frozen ears lined with crystals of unbearable ice. The color of Han Juwon's red-rimmed eyes, as he grabs Dongsik and shakes him.
"Move," Dongsik forces out, tasting the sharp, bitter tang of metal in his mouth as he clenches his teeth around the meat of his cheek and bites.
"You can't do anything right now!" Han Juwon gasps. " Let me do it for you!" Dongsik, caught and held by a fury so potent and viscous he feels it gurgling in his throat, pauses. Do it for him? What is his partner talking about? Why would he bother dirtying his hands in Dongsik's filth? How dare he bar his way, now that he finally fucking knows -
"What will you do if you go? This is illegally recorded. It will not be admissible in court." Dongsik forces himself to look away from Juwon's eyes, shaken by the ferocity there.
"I'll set a trap. I'll become a monster, take Han Kihwan with me, and dive into the deepest part of hell when he reaches the peak. That's my way of atoning," Juwon grates out. Dongsik searches his eyes, desperate, trying to understand just how far Juwon is willing to go. But Juwon grabs his arms, the sudden warmth and pressure of his fingertips curled around his biceps making the whole world narrow down to those faint points of contact and the sudden desperate weight in Dongsik's belly. And then Juwon slides down to his knees, the bone hitting the ground with a faint thump.
"I will go to hell," Han Juwon promises, kneeling like some storybook-saint in front of him, trembling from the burden of guilt threatening to crush him. And Dongsik wants to sit and cry and cry and cry. It was his partner's father. His haughty, elegant, cold partner's father. And the man in front of him is begging him on his knees to let him do Dongsik's dirty work. To take Dongsik's hands and wipe them clean of blood, of allegations, of suspicion, of the grime and filth of 21 years of metamorphosing into a beast. Is he even real? Who would bear Dongsik's cross? Who would carry out this hideous, rotten work?
"Han Juwon. Get up." Juwon is frozen, shaking apart, and he does not even seem to realize how close they are and how a fine layer of mud and clay smears and stains his knees. "Juwon-ah. Are you listening? Don't be ridiculous and get up. I can't let my partner freeze to death like this. You made me a promise- we have work to do, don't we?' And he pulls Juwon up, pulling him into the home.
They end up - irony to end all ironies - in his fucking basement. Dongsik tosses Juwon fresh bedding, new clothes, and things to wash up. He gets on his hands and knees to scrub the bathroom tub and sink with bleach so Juwon can wash up. And he tries, ferociously, not to think. He fails. Yuyeon, Yuyeon, Yuyeon, his twin, his partner, Han Juwon's shaking hands on him, his expression wrecked, Juwon's father, Han Kihwan, and the endless tape - "a small mistake". "A small mistake". His sister and small mistakes and deers runover and roadkill festering in dry, dense midnight air.
But instead, he rests on his couch and thinks of Han Juwon's silhouette in the warm lights cast by low-hanging bulbs. His slick, self-righteous doryeonnim casting aspersions and screaming as he mourns Lee Geumhwa and cradling his arms as he begs for the chance to save him from the empty grave Dongsik is endlessly approaching. How is he going to come out of this whole?
But he says nothing to Juwon when he returns. He grins, somehow.
"Inspector Han Juwon. You ought to dry your hair. You'll catch a horrendous cold, and then I'll have to take care of you." Han Juwon is cold and still as he stands, like a statue, and murmurs, "You shouldn't have to pick up my messes anymore." Dongsik's grin, courageously mustered, falls and his stomach twists.
"Juwon-ah. You're going to try and do something very big. Let your partner help how he can. I trust you. You need to last long enough to stand up against - against him." And he throws a fluffy white towel at his dripping head.
(He laughs and laughs and laughs till his face hurts at the look of Juwon, like an overgrown cat, glaring daggers at him from underneath the towel. Dongsik turns around and mimes sleeping and listens to Juwon settle down. He closes his eyes and tries to forget the sound of Juwon as he murmurs into the heavy claws of the night.
I'll bring him to the darkest part of hell, hyung.
Dongsik cannot sleep after that, no matter how hard he tries. How is he supposed to get over Han Juwon?
Exhibit E- Han Juwon clings like rice paste to his promise, playing the cocky heir, the princely Inspector vying for his father's position, like an expert. They are partners in Seoul now, in Juwon's home ground, and there is something about Juwon biting out commands and threats with his languid arrogance that makes Dongsik's hands shake. Dongsik takes the chance to tease Juwon as they're going through call records in a dingy office room. The white LEDs cast their sterile, sharp light onto Juwon's cheekbone, the fringe of his eyelashes, and the small mole on his left ear that Dongsik studies a little too much in his free time.
"Juwon-ah, how'd you learn to act so well? Hm? It can't be your prosecutor hyung, he's too straight-laced. Tell me how, huh?" Dongsik presses with a shit-eating grin, a little high off the elation of working in the heart of the city with the city boy at his elbow. But he has forgotten that Han Juwon's spine is made of steel.
"I learned from you, Inspector. All those months you spent convincing everyone around you that you were an evil, reeking monster. Of course, if my teacher is good, I should be good as well." Sly, little doryeonnim.
"Ah, so you've been watching me pretty closely, haven't you? Learning by seeing? How many hours must you have been carefully studying me, huh, Inspector Han Juwon? Was it to your taste?" Dongsik infuses his voice with as much saccharine innuendo as he can (enough to see if he can knock Juwon off his toes a little, and enough to treat it as a ridiculous joke if Juwon does actually feel too uncomfortable.) But Han Juwon just grins, a sharp little slice in that pristine visage, and bites back,
"What can I say? I'm not a quick study and my partner is very easy to look at. Anyways, don't you like that sort of thing, hyung?"
A beat passes. Then two. And this time, Dongsik cannot find the words to volley back.
Hyung. That tiny word, said in Juwon's warm baritone, paired with the loose ease lining his porcelain features - Dongsik is so overcome with sudden wanting that he feels the urge to throw up. Suddenly, a thousand fantasies of Han Juwon saying that little fucking word are rifling through his mind.
Dongsik wants to kiss - no, punch - the suddenly victorious gleam off Juwon's face. Ah- that little brat. Hyung. He thinks he is going to spontaneously combust. Juwon laughs as Dongsik's neck flushes a little, and Dongsik has to save atleast a little face.
"Ah, Juwon-ah, don't be absurd. You, a slow study? After topping the class at the police academy? Our Juwon-ie's grown up so well and so handsomely, I'm so proud of my good partner, always such a good, smart, lovely student-"
"Can we get back to work?" Han Juwon breathes out, suddenly stiff, and Dongsik realizes with a jolt of something electric.
Oh.
Oh.
Dongsik watches Juwon, a little crinkle reappearing between his brows, and decides to spare him. Interesting. He wonders if he can prod about this in the next few weeks -
And then sobers. He doesn't know if Han Juwon will be his partner, standing solidly at his side, cool indifference like a shield, in the next weeks, much less days. He returns his attention to the call logs, riffling through them until the numbers blur, a queasy sensation sliding and settling like thick, sickening oil in his belly.
But then Han Juwon makes good on his promise. He intercepts a text meant for Lee Dongsik. And then Jung Cheolmun is dead. It is an hour or so later, past the glass of an interrogation window, that Dongsik remembers the sick feeling of Han Juwon's fickle impermanence.
Han Juwon’s eyes are limpid and lined with glaring crimson, and he is sitting alone in an interrogation room, absently picking at the blood caught in the rift between his nails and fingertips. His thousand-yard-stare is piercing and empty. And Dongsik cannot breathe with the revelation that he could've died in Dongsik's place. That he took the fall for Lee Dongsik.
Who would carry out this hideous, rotten work?
He remembers that glassy question, musings of an empty night and the echoes of Juwon vowing to do the unthinkable. He is warmed throughout by the notion that it is Juwon who sticks beside him, obtuse and pompous and incessantly earnest. That Juwon rolls up his sleeves and dons bright pink gloves and scrubs away at the fetters that latch onto Dongsik and do not release.
Jihwa confronts him, her voice shaking, her eyes searching for some admission or absolution, neither of which Dongsik can afford her. His childhood friend. He urges her not to cross over to his side. To his and Juwon's side. To a side he cannot come back from. To the side that let him move Minjeong's fingers to Kang Jinmuk's store. To the side that failed to save Minjeong, his darling daughter, the bright gold beam of light in his life. To the side that is currently ripping apart every ounce of what Han Juwon has known. To the side that promises that he cannot come out of this war without giving up himself.
Jihwa, unsurprisingly, tells him she knows everything.
"I knew- I just said nothing! Because we both know the law is not enough sometimes! How can you tell me that?" Her voice crumples a little bit, and Dongsik cannot bear her agony too. So he tells her everything, a dam bursting open.
He tells her about Han Kihwan. He tells her about the recording file. He tells her about Han Juwon's lonely crusade. He thinks about the sight of blood smeared like an offering across Juwon's forehead, where his hands had dizzyingly, maddeningly, scraped through his hair in devastation.
"Jihwa-ya, I can't let that fool take the fall alone."
Jihwa's eyes soften. Something gives in her expression, and she grabs his hands and Dongsik tries not to shake himself apart into splinters and never-spoken sentences.
"I can't let him do this alone," he confesses. "I can't- I need to make sure he comes out of this alright." He says nothing of himself- if it is a choice between the cold inspector that has broken down his defenses to give everything of himself to the little town he stormed into and himself? The choice is clear to Dongsik.
"I know," Jihwa murmurs, "I know, Dongsik-ah. I'm so sorry. Shit. I'm so sorry. We'll do this together."
Later, Dongsik has pulled Juwon out into the cold, clear winter night outside. There is a fierce chill wrapping around them, the wind from the reed fields whispering in dulcet tones against their necks. Han Juwon's ears are bright, flushed cherry-red. Dongsik had pulled out q-tips and a clean bottle of alcohol from his trunk.
"Yah, Juwon-ah. C'mere. 'Lemme see your hands."
"It's alright. I'll clean them when I get home."
"Yah- your apartment is so far away, huh? Hours of driving. You'll go crazy by then. Gimme your hands, hyung will take care of you." Dongsik grabs a warm, long-fingered hand quick enough so he cannot protest. He dips the q-tip into the alcohol without touching the swab, and tilts Juwon's fingers one by one, sliding the suffused cotton between his nails and fingertips until the blood stains the head in its rusty, browning tint. He used a new swab each time, 10 fingers, 2 hands. He dips, and swipes, gently following the crescent moons of Juwon's almost transparent nails.
"I'm smarter than I look, Inspector Han, I know this is a bother, but you'll feel better by the time you get back. Of course, our Juwon-ie can take care of himself, but partners have to stick together right. Hm?" He keeps babbling nonsense and hates himself a little bit because he uses the word partners but he'd rather say lovers or people who know each other intimately or people who have explored each other's bodies or even just partners, but in that way, not the police way, and then -
Han Juwon is glaring at him. Dongsik is a little staggered by the scope and scale of Juwon's beauty every time he looks at him. The sharp relief of his features, the sunken purple under his eyes, the dark gleaming pupils that felt like lasers, and the slight lines at the corners of his mouth from his persistent frowning.
"Yah, you punk, why are you glaring like that? I promise I'll be quick."
"I already told hyung you don't need to clean up after my messes. I have no right to accept your help. I have already committed the biggest sins against you- I accused you with no proof and no reason. You don't- I don't need - you shouldn't be helping me!"
"Han Juwon, I get to decide that. I already decided that I'm going to be there for my partner. Even if he's a little obtuse, and a little sullen, and he pouts like a child and he doesn't wait for backup or logic-"
"Hyung!"
"I still want to stand by his side. I'm going to keep doing it, until we finish this whole mess." And Dongsik grins, and grins, warmth and a heady kind of delight bubbling out of him at Juwon's flush spreading over his cheeks.
"We'll do this together, Juwon-ah."
Juwon peers at him through a sheen of hazy tears and smiles without any heat or duplicity or artifice and Dongsik thinks the moon has descended from her lofty perch to rest in the dimple on Juwon's right cheek.
Dongsik cannot remember a life before Han Juwon, except for empty hours, silent stretches of patrol, and the wind carving keen paths through endless golden fields of stalks that crane and stretch. He cannot imagine an after either.
He decides to himself he will not accept an after that doesn't have Juwon's sulking, his tousled hair, his shitty attempts at acting.
Exhibit F- Han Juwon is racing through the sultry embrace of a swaying, thrumming field of spun gold. Spring's bright flush hasn't yet broken over Manyang, and the wind carves its dance into the spaces and whispering gaps around him. He runs, feet pounding, heart pacing, in search of the slip of smoke that is slipping further into the long, plush arms of the reeds. He follows the wind's cries, its coy hints.
Follow him. He is waiting for you. He recognizes you. He would know you by your footfall. Chase him. He will let you catch him.
So Juwon runs on, panting out frigid breaths that bloom and dissipate almost immediately, a wintertime garden blooming and withering from the boundaries of his lips.
He runs until the path ahead clears up, and he sees a familiar slope of shoulders, a hip cocked to one side in a familiar cant. Lee Dongsik.
"Inspector Han. Back again, are we? I'd know your flower-like face anywhere."
"You haven't even seen my face yet, Lee Dongsik-ssi. Prison air seems to have suited you. You seem healthier and sprier than ever. A wonder, considering your age."
Dongsik laughs, delighted, and turns around with a cheeky smile, free and loose in a way Juwon has yet to see. His heart feels a little, sharp pang. Relief? Or desire? He still cannot untangle these threads.
Han Juwon has come and gone and come and gone from Manyang. Everytime he comes back, he is different. A little softer, a little looser, a little warmer. Lee Dongsik had pointed out, more than a year ago, that he seemed different on his return.
This was true, of course. He had been 'reborn', in the words of his Hyuk hyung. It took reincarnation for Han Juwon to confront the cracks in the veneer. He could not, though, regret any of it. His poor acting, his clumsy threats, or his ignorance. Not if it meant seeing Lee Dongsik's face crease and crinkle with the force of his smile (as if he was really that happy to see Juwon.)
"Juwon-ah. Let's go eat some hot stew."
Juwon smiled and jogged to catch up with the man ahead.
As Lee Dongsik compiles his final exhibition, it turns out that he is not as good at observation as he had thought.
He has failed to notice Juwon struggling closer, that stubborn brat, drawing nearer to the wreck and choosing to cut himself on Dongsik's jagged edges anyways.
He thinks he will be happy amending his observation skills for the rest of his life, if it means getting to fall asleep next to Han Juwon and hear his voice first thing in the morning.