Work Text:
It started with darkness. An absence of light so thick it was overwhelming.
Next there came the numbness. Slowly, all of the feelings his body used to carry bled away into nothingness.
His mind scrambled, all of his thoughts and memories pouring out of him. Try as he might, he couldn’t contain them. He had to let them go.
And then his eyes snapped open. In a second everything came back to him. And yet… he was somewhere he had never seen before. A seemingly endless hallway of white and oak. He was waiting on a black plastic chair across from a pot plant. The green was the only vibrant colour in sight.
One moment he had been performing with his band, and the next he was here… in this never ending hallway. Try as he might, he couldn’t quite piece together what had happened in between.
“Kim Jungsu?”
His head snapped towards the voice. A man was standing outside one of the dark office doors a little way down the hall. Unsure what else to do, Jungsu got up and made his way towards him.
The man had a pair of marbled glasses and was dressed in a plain suit and tie. He looked incredibly boring. His name tag said ‘Mr 15789’.
The two of them entered the office. The man - Mr 15789 - set himself down in the leather chair behind the mahogany desk. The room itself was pretty basic, bar a coloured filing cabinet on the side wall. There was a desktop set atop the man’s desk and a small stack of papers beside it.
Jungsu took the small armchair across from the desk, swallowing thickly. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but was interrupted by Mr 15789 typing harshly at his keyboard. The man’s glasses reflected his bright screen.
Click, click, click.
“Kim Jungsu, born 26th of June, 2001. Age 23. Is that correct?” he asked.
Jungsu nodded. “Uh, yes. That’s correct.”
Click, click, click.
“Singer in the rock band ‘Patience’? Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
Click, click, click.
“Drug addict, alcoholic, and currently cheating on your girlfriend with mutiple different people? Is that correct?”
“What-?” His entire body ceased as fury coursed through his veins. What the actual fuck was going on?
Mr 15789 just raised an eyebrow at him. “Is that correct, Jungsu?” he asked again, his voice challenging.
“…Yes.” He sat back in his chair, seething silently.
Click, click, click.
“Anger issues-”
Jungsu slammed his hand down on the desk, pushing himself up to his feet. “Okay, I’ve have enough. Where the hell am I? Who are you, and what’s going on? A few minutes ago I was performing and now I’m here in this fucked up place.”
After considering him for a few moments, Mr 15789 went back to his typing.
Click, click, click.
He tapped the enter key rather sharply before finally turning his full attention to Jungsu. “You, Mr Kim,” he began simply, “are dead. There was a problem with the lighting rig at the venue you were playing at and the whole thing came down on top of you. This,” he ushered around the office, “is the Waypoint. Here we sort people into their suited afterlives.”
Jungsu fell back heavily into his chair, because what the actual hell? He was… dead? He had so much still to go in his life and he was dead. Killed by a fucking falling light? No, no that wasn’t the way Kim Jungsu would go out. He should die in a car crash or an overdose. Not crushed like a bug.
“Now, I understand this is a lot,” Mr 15789 drawled, his voice dull and emotionless, “but I have already decided on the afterlife that best suits you. Therefore, I will begin the final process of your placement.”
“Hey! Wait, wait,” Jungsu growled, waving his hands to catch the man’s attention. “Don’t I get a say in any of this?” He huffed loudly at the mere ridiculousness of it all.
Mr 15789 laughed - or at least did some bland and twisted looking version of the act. “You are set to go to the Eighth Wall, Mr Kim.” Jungsu frowned, trying to argue, but the man didn’t give him a chance. “And no, you don’t get a say.”
And with that said, Mr 15789 grabbed a big red stamp and slammed it down onto a piece of paper in his desk. He slipped the paper into a binder he produced from somewhere under the desk before turning to look up at Jungsu. He waved, a cruel look creeping into his eyes.
Suddenly, the chair Jungsu was sitting in fell through into the floor. The office room rushed away from him as he fell through a swirling chamber of darkness. Coldness nipped at his body as he dropped.
-----
Jungsu landed roughly in some sort of pile of cardboard and other junk. He dragged himself up, peering over the metal edges down to the street below. He was in some sort of rubbish skip so the street wasn’t very far below him. Jungsu jumped down easily.
Everything was dark, lit only by oil drum fires and other flaming light sources. The walls of the nearby buildings were littered with spray paint and graffiti. The only inhabitants were men and women with scowling faces and tattered clothing.
Compared to it all, Jungsu stuck out like a sore thumb. He was still dressed for the stage, his face dotted with glitter and adhesive jewels, dressed in his brand new skinny jeans and dark jacket. He looked stunning.
Pursing his lips, the singer shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and started walking down the street. This is a bad dream, he kept telling himself. You’ll wake up soon.
In the meantime, he decided he needed to find a place to lay low. Jungsu was a tough guy and wasn’t above beating someone up, but he didn’t feel comfortable around the other people in the area. They were staring him up and down with narrowed eyes. This was the type of place you wouldn’t want to visit alone, regardless of how tough you were.
The streets were blockey and not quite wide enough for cars. They stretched on and on, and Jungsu wasn’t sure if he was even walking the right direction anymore. Everything looked the same.
He kept looking over his shoulder, finding a few guys with thick coats and shaggy hair had been following him for a while now. His skin crawled with the need to get in doors.
He spied the neon sign pointing to a dark opening in one building. ‘Buster's Bar’ the sign stated. Deciding anywhere was better than out on the streets with those men, Jungsu ducked inside.
Inside music reverberated off the walls, the bass echoing through his soul. (Now that he was ‘dead’, did he have a soul? Or was he now just his soul? He had a few serious questions about that…)
The neon burned against his tired eyes. Every surface seemed to be lined with some sort of glowing material. The place was crowded, he shuffled between bodies trying to get to the main bar. He slipped down onto a free stool, sighing heavily To himself.
A woman with long nails and curly hair walked over to him from behind the bar. “What would you like?” she grumbled, chewing loudly on a piece of gum.
Jungsu just waved her off, massaging his temples. She shrugged, rolling her eyes, and slunk off to serve someone else.
A hand dropped heavily down on the singer's shoulder, spinning him around. Three of the men from the street were staring down at him. He just stared back with wide eyes. What was he supposed to do now?
One of them, a man with thick eyebrows and a spine-tingling grin, sneered at him. “You’re a pretty thing, and you’re obviously new here. Come with us, we can teach you about the ways of this place.” The two other men shared a devious look.
Jungsu didn’t trust them for a second. He opened his mouth to tell them to go away, when someone else stepped in.
“Hey, hey,” a new man growled. He pressed himself between them, his back turned to Jungsu. “Not in my bar, you don’t. Shoo,” he hissed, waving them away like creepy oversized birds.
The men backed down pretty quickly, stumbling towards the door. Not because they were scared, but because they were lazy. A target you had to fight for was too much work.
The new man turned to face Jungsu. He had dark hair on top, a strip of bleach running around the lower part of his head. He had sharp eyes and was dressed in a nice shirt. He was done up a lot smarter than anyone else Jungsu had seen so far.
He held out a hand, the only hint at a smile were his eyes crinkling slightly at the edges. “I’m Oh Seungmin, but people call me O.de. I’m the owner of this bar.”
The singer eyed his hand for a moment before taking it slowly. He shook it, eyes narrowing at Seungmin. He didn’t trust the man at all. “Kim Jungsu,” he said tightly. “I’m not going to thank you, by the way.”
Seungmin barked out a laugh at that, a smile finally curling properly onto his lips. “I didn’t expect you to. Come on,” he added as he turned to walk back into the crowd.
Jungsu blinked. Was he just supposed to follow this strange man? O.de peered back through the crowd to raise an eyebrow at him. Did he really have any other choice?
The singer darted after him, cursing to himself the whole way. They walked up a spiral staircase on the opposite side of the bar and through a steel door at the end. As soon as the door was closed, the music seemed to vanish, leaving them in relative silence.
Inside, the room was a lot different to what Jungsu had expected. The walls were decorated in fairy lights and there were yellowing couches lined up against the walls. A few bunk beds stood to one side, and a set of draws overflowing with clothes was set between them. It was clearly where Seungmin lived.
There was another man on one of the beds as well. He sat up slowly, waving at Jungsu as he took the whole room in. His dark hair was long, brushing against his shoulders. He looked tired and the singer wondered if they had woken him. Then again, who looks that good after just waking up?
“That’s Han Hyeongjun,” Seungmin supplied. “People call him Jun Han.” He turned to the other, gesturing back at the singer. “This is Kim Jungsu.”
Hyeongjun just nodded at him silently. Jungsu frowned. Wasn’t that kind of rude? He wasn’t sure how ro react so he just pushed his hands into his pockets and tried to wipe the frown off his face.
Seungmin chuckled, leaning over and saying, “he’s pretty shy.” Then he moved over to sit down on one of the couches. He motioned for Jungsu to follow. “So you’re new here? Welcome to the Eighth Wall!”
Jungsu nodded slowly. “Sorry, what exactly is the Eight Wall? Is this supposed to be… like, hell or something?” That was the one thing he couldn’t work out.
“Kinda,” O.de shrugged. “It’s one of the Ten Hells. There’s like levels depending on how bad you were during your life. The First Wall is the worst of them all so only really bad people go there. The Tenth Wall is the best of the hells. So people there are pretty good, but still lean towards evil.”
Most of that went right over Jungsu’s head, but he pushed his questions down and nodded along regardless. Seungmin smiled gently at him. “It’s okay if you don’t get it, you’ve got time.” He clasped his hands together. “So what did you do to get here? Like, anything evil?”
Jungsu raised one of his shoulders nonchalantly. “I guess. I played around a bunch. Drank all the time, was usually high. Y’know, that kinda stuff.” Hyeongjun just watched them from his perch on the bed, barely reacting.
Seungmin on the other hand nodded along the entire time. “Yeah, most people here did stuff like that. I was kinda the same. Same as Jiseok and Jooyeon - you haven’t met them yet. Hyeongjun on the other hand…” the two friends shared a look Jungsu couldn’t quite decipher.
“Tax fraud,” Hyeongjun said simply.
The singer frowned. Was that really that bad? Seungmin scoffed. “I know what you’re thinking, and yes, it was enough to get him here. More than enough in fact. When he was alive, Hyeongjun robbed the bank of so much that he was ridiculously rich!”
Hyeongjun blinked at him, the edges of his lips curling upwards. “I would be in the Fourth Wall, but the attendant said I was kind enough to be put in here instead.” Jungsu just stared at him. The quiet man sitting in front of him was capable of that much?
Shaking himself out of his trance, Jungsu turned to Seungmin again. “Why am I here? Like, why did you take me up here?” he asked slowly.
O.de’s expression softened. “It can be hard to get on your feet here. I was lucky one of my old friends was already here, so I inherited this bar. But Hyeongjun and Jiseok had to find their own ways at first. We took in Jooyeon when he first arrived, and now we’re gonna take you in too.”
Jungsu wanted to laugh. This was all too ridiculous. “You don’t even know me.”
“What are you going to do?” Hyeongjun asked, voice flat. “Kill us in our sleep? We’re already dead, and besides we can kick you out wherever we want. I’m sure there are plenty of people on the streets who would love to meet you.”
That was… a lot darker than Jungsu had expected. He swallowed, leaning backwards into the couch. “You have a point…” he conceded quietly.
There was a click as the door unlocked and a creak as it swung open. Two men tumbled inside, talking lowly between each other. “Ah,” O.de cried, clapping his hands together, “perfect timing! Jooyeon, Jiseok. This is Kim Jungsu. Jungsu, these are our other roommates Lee Jooyeon and Kwak Jiseok. People call Jiseok as Gaon…” Seungmin said more, but the singer wasn’t listening.
He was too busy panicking over how absolutely beautiful Jiseok was. He had a wide smile and dusted brown dyed hair. Jungsu swallowed dryly, willing his heart rate to slow. Jiseok had shining eyes and a soft blush settled across his cheeks. He had effortlessly captured Jungsu’s full attention.
The singer supposed Jooyeon was also good looking, with his long blonde hair and attractive features, but he was already hooked elsewhere.
Jungsu needed a drink.
Preferably a strong one too.
His mind stung with memories, their ink blanking out his vision with dark dollops. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t expunge that feeling he got around men. He was a singer in a rock band. He was with a new girl every night. He was fucking Kim Jungsu, the guy all the men envied.
And yet, here he was again, trying to swallow down the emotions bubbling up inside of him around a man. He wasn’t like that . He wasn’t queer . So why was this something he had to deal with? His head hurt.
Damn, he needed a drink.
Jiseok smirked at him, “why hi there.” He leant against the wall, shamelessly letting his eyes run up and down Jungsu.
The singer felt physically sick. He screwed up his face like he had just bitten into a lemon. “What are you a fucking gay or something? Why are you talking like that?” he scoffed, turning away from Jiseok like he disgusted him. If only that was the truth…
In an instant the air in the room shifted. Seungmin, Hyeongjun, and Jooyeon tensed, their guards shooting up as their friend was threatened. They all shared a warning look. One more word and we strike.
Jiseok, on the other hand, just laughed. It caught Jungsu off guard. Usually when he made comments like that people would scream at him. Sometimes they would even throw punches. They would blame him for all of the wrong things in the world and the male population.
But never had he been laughed at before.
And yet there Jiseok was… laughing. Jungsu frowned. “Is something funny?” he asked. His words sharp and pointed, the underlying message of don’t fuck with me echoing loud and clear around the room.
“Nothing, nothing, don’t worry,” Jiseok said as he wiped tears - tears?! - from his eyes. “And yes I am gay. Well, I’m bisexual, but you get it.” He moved closer, dropping down beside Jungsu on the couch. The singer did his best to paint his face with pure distaste clearly for the whole room to see.
In reality, he felt butterflies well up in his stomach. It was something that only ever happened around men. He choked on the poisoned wings and let his skin crawl with their ting legs. A small suppressed part of him felt happy right then, but he shushed that part as usual. He despised that feeling. He always had and always will. That was the way it was.
Jiseok just smiled at him, seemingly not getting the message. Jungsu hoped his heart wasn’t quite going fast enough to echo through his skin where he was touching the other. He faked an exaggerated eyeroll as a cherry on top of his performance. “Are you new to the Eighth Wall?” Jiseok asked in a too sweet tone.
“Yes. He’s brand new,” Seungmin supplied theough gritted teeth. “Saved him from a few guys earlier in the bar-”
The words burnt as they came into contact with his ears. ‘Saved’? That made him sound weak. He couldn’t sound weak in front of Jise- these new people. Jungsu frowned, turning to face the man. “You didn’t save me, I had it under control.”
Hyeongjun scoffed quietly in the corner.
Seungmin and Jooyeon shared a look.
Jiseok stifled a laugh.
Jungsu saw red.
He growled, standing to his feet. “Fuck you guys! I can protect myself. I don’t need any of you, especially,” he hissed, turning on Jiseok, “not a queer like you.”
And with that, Jungsu left, making extra sure to slam the metal door on the way out.
------
The streets were cold in comparison to the warmness of the bar. Jungsu wrapped his arms around himself as he walked. His outfit wasn’t made for heat, it was made to look fucking fabulous, and it definitely did that job. But that wasn’t what he needed right now.
As he left the neon sign behind him, he felt something akin to regret. What was he supposed to do now? He had lucked out finding probably the only kind people in the whole of the Eighth Wall and he had just decided to leave them. What kind of decision was that?
A small voice in the back of his head piped up, mumbling into the mess of his thoughts. ‘Why do you keep resisting?’ He didn’t want to think about that right now, but the thought just kept nagging at him.
When he was young, he had watched his parents divorce. He had watched his father drink and he had watched his mother snort some disgusting powder. He remember how they had sneered at him and spat at him and told him he wasn’t worth shit.
He also remembered how he still tried every day to prove to them he was worth everything. And yet they never noticed. Being on-stage, surrounded by screaming women and jealous men, that was the only time Jungsu truly felt appreciated. Truly felt seen.
When Jungsu was sixteen, he had his first kiss. It was with a boy in his year behind the P.E. sheds during lunch break. That evening he told his mother and she screamed at him. He remembered running away from the house with a bleeding nose and bruised arm.
He ran all the way to that boy’s house, but the door was opened by his girlfriend. He scoffed when he saw him over her shoulder, telling him to get lost. He screwed up his face at the mention of the kiss, quickly denying it ever happened.
Heart broken, Jungsu made his way home. But when he returned, he found an ambulance in the driveway. His mother was dead.
Blinking back his tears, Jungsu didn’t try to fight the situation. He didn’t try to sugar-coat it. He let her die.
And he let his secret die along with her.
Now, he could only wonder what level of hell the attendant had sorted her into.
A voice cut through his memories. “Back again so soon?” Jungsu turned to see the men from the bar. They somehow looked bigger than he remembered.
Regardless, Jungsu bared his teeth, squaring his shoulders. He would carve his place in hell by force.
But before he could attack them, someone else stepped in.
Again?
Jungsu couldn’t believe it.
Again!
“Hey, hey,” Jiseok grunted, placing himself beside the singer. “Pablo, guys,” he addressed the men, “Unfortunately Jungsu-hyung is off the table. You’ll have to find some new meat to patronise.”
The leader of the pack - Pablo - scowled. “Gaon-” he began, but Jiseok just held up a hand.
“No buts, Pablo. This is it. Kim Jungsu is protected by me. You touch him, you’re declaring war on me. Do you really want that?” he asked. He seemed so sure of himself and his power, it was hot horrid.
Kim Jungsu didn’t need saving, especially by Kwak Jiseok.
Pablo waved at his men, grumbling out, “c’mon guys, let’s head down past Franko’s instead.” They turned and made their way back down the street, Pablo hesitating for a moment longer to tip his cap at Jiseok. “You better know what you’re doing, Gaon,” he warned.
Jungsu was fuming. He could practically feel the steam pouring out of his ears. “What the fuck,” he seethed.
Jiseok just laughed, his voice soft like bells. It somehow only made the singer angrier. “I wanna show you something,” he said, moving past Jungsu towards. He meant for the older to follow, but Jungsu wasn’t about to.
Instead, he stood his ground, shouting at the man’s retreating back. “I don’t need protection from a fucking fag!”
Gaon froze in place. Somehow, the knowledge that he had caught Jiseok off guard made Jungsu feel good. The younger paused for a moment before turning back around. His usual smile was nowhere to be soon, and yet he still wasn’t frowning. His expression was neutral, like he was really examining Jungsu. It had the reverse effect the singer had been aiming for. It made his skin crawl.
“Come with me,” was all Jiseok said.
Jungsu followed wordlessly.
They walked down a few streets before turning into a dark building on the corner of a rubbish-filled grassy space and another neon-clad club of some kind. They made their way up the stairs, stepping carefully over a drunk man asleep halfway up.
The pair emerged on the building’s rooftop. There were no stars in the Eighth Wall, but the fires dotted across the jagged landscape looked beautiful in their own twisted way none-the-less.
Jiseok smiled at the view, leaning against the stone barrier. “It’s really nice up here,” he commented, only just loud enough to be heard.
Jungsu swallowed, moving stiffly as he took the space beside the younger. He couldn’t really pretend this was a dream anymore. “This is all real, isn’t it?” He wasn’t sure why he was asking Jiseok of all people, but he didn’t try to correct himself at all.
“Yeah, it is,” he said simply. “Did you really think it wasn’t?”
“I’m not sure,” Jungsu confessed. “I didn’t want it to be true.”
The younger chuckled gently at that. “I get the feeling you are the type of person to ignore things you don’t want to accept as truth.” His voice was just a little bit too knowing. When Jungsu didn’t reply, he sighed, turning to face him. “I’m not blind. I can see it; you’re queer too-”
“I’m not!” the singer snapped, swivelling around to face him. His cheeks flushed with anger, he felt a strange feeling swirling inside of him. Why was Jiseok so pretty? “I like women, I’m straight.” Gaon watched him silently, his eyes holding something Jungsu didn’t want to decipher. Eventually, the singer sighed harshly, turning back to the view. “You don’t know me.”
Jiseok did reply this time. “I know myself, and you seem an awful lot like me.”
Like Jiseok? He couldn’t even imagine. Now, finally, it was his turn to laugh. Somehow, the sound of his own voice made his insides twist. He grimaced, wishing desperately for a drink.
The younger continued. If he had noticed the singer’s moment of pain, he didn’t acknowledge it. “Okay, well here’s a bit about me. Born to a broken home and left to pick up the pieces myself, I decided I could never be queer. So, I pushed it down. I pretended I only liked women. Joined a band as a guitarist because the spotlight was the only place I felt seen. I died of an overdose right after sleeping with my girlfriend’s best friend. I was an absolute asshole when I was alive.
“I’m actually trying to be a better person now. All of us are - us being O.de, Jun Han, Jooyeon, and I. Don’t misunderstand, you can’t survive in the Eighth Wall if you’re a ‘good person’, but it doesn’t hurt to try and be better than you were. I have accepted I am Bisexual and I feel a lot more comfortable with myself now. And a little bit of kindness can go a long way - yes, even here. Believe it or not, it means a lot more here if you have compromising knowledge about someone than if you’re physically tough. You get knowledge by befriending the right people,” Jiseok said.
Jungsu listened silently, his brain tired and full of fluff. He reached up to massaged his temples. “If you’re trying to get me to be kind to you-”
The younger chuckled. His laugh was starting to get on Jungsu’s nerves. “No, no, of course not. I’m just giving you some advice. You hid yourself away for your whole life. Don’t lead the same afterlife.”
How was one to reply to that? All Jungsu could do was nod. He bit his lip, staring out at the dark sky. In the few hours he had been there, the sky’s colour hadn’t changed at all. Was it always night there, or was the daytime still coming? Before he could ask, Jiseok pushed away from the barrier and started walking back towards the rooftop door. “Come on,” he called. “Seungmin will need help with refills soon.”
Jungsu wasn’t sure what else to do, so he followed silently.
------
Sure enough, as soon as the two of them entered the bar, they were cornered by Seungmin and tasked with jobs. Jiseok was sent to assist at the counter, while Seungmin took Jungsu out the back to get a few extra bottles for restocking.
At first, Jungsu felt an uncomfortable happiness bubbling up inside of him. They hadn’t held his outburst against him. He could actually have friends in this afterlife. It was a strange feeling, and yet he felt like he could get used to it.
But, as soon as the stockroom door closed, the singer realised he was wrong. Seungmin rounded on him with narrowed eyes and the aura of a serial killer. Jungsu assumed serial killers would be in a worse hell than the Eighth Wall.
He stalked forwards a few steps and for a moment the singer forgot himself. He stumbled backwards slightly, a tinge of embarrassment washing over him. “I don’t trust you,” Seungmin hissed. “The only reason we’re even letting you back here is because Jiseok asked us to. If you step out of line - as little as a hair out of line - we will throw you to the wolves. Remember that, okay?”
Jungsu nodded, an unusual sense of fear spiking in his veins. He was never scared, but somehow O.de managed to twist that. The pair stood there for a few seconds, submerged in a room of bottles and alcohol. For the first time in a long while, Jungsu was scared of fucking up. He didn’t even know why.
Once Seungmin had decided his point was made, he took a step backwards and moved to grab a tray of bottles. He motioned with his elbow to a row of white cased vodka. “Bring those out. As many as you can carry. But,” he warned, “if you damage any you’re dead.” With that, O.de ducked out the door and left Jungsu alone again.
While he was pretty sure the death threat was an exaggeration, the singer couldn’t quite be sure. He decided being careful with the bottles was the correct way to go.
The room itself was long and thin, shelves lining the edges with a few smaller rows through the middle. The only light was a single exposed bulb, casting long distorted shadows across the walls from the rows of glass.
Before he grabbed the bottles for Seungmin, Jungsu let his curiosity take over. He let his feet drag across the floor as he weaved between the shelves. He examined a few labels, noting a few drinks that he definitely wanted to try.
He reached the far corner, the darkest part of the room, when he noticed something. There was a brown shoe box tucked away behind a couple of bottles. He knelt down, pulling the box out of its hiding place. In thick vivid, the word Buster’s was written along the lid.
Suddenly, a thought struck Jungsu. How could Seungmin inherit the bar if no one was able to die here? Why would someone give up their business if there was nowhere else to go? What had really happened to Buster?
Swallowing, the singer opened the box. At first glance, the box appeared empty, but as Jungsu looked closer, he noticed there was a dull coloured notebook resting along the bottom of the cardboard. It was a small pocket-sized book, particularly easy for travel.
Jungsu picked up the book, tucking it away in one of the pockets of his jacket. He reset the box and bottles, moving to collect a few drinks like he was asked. He had dawdled too long.
------
There was no daytime in the Eighth Wall, Jungsu soon discovered. You created your own schedule and all of the establishments - at least the larger ones - ran for 24 hours. Buster’s Bar was definitely a well known meet up space and they had customers all around the clock.
Jungsu worked for a few hours under Seungmin doing small tasks such as cleaning tables, mopping up spills, and restocking drinks. Jiseok was still working at the counter, taking every chance he could to send flirty glances in the singer’s direction.
When Jungsu was finally relieved for a break by Seungmin, he felt like he could shout with joy. Working was exhausting, especially in such a chaotic crowd. He trudged up the metal staircase and collapsed down onto one of the tea bag-stained couches.
Hyeongjun was still sitting in the same place as before. (Perhaps he had been working as well, Jungsu couldn’t remember. There were too many people to keep track of.) He eyed the singer’s limp body, frowning to himself.
Jungsu tipped his head up to look over to look at him upside down, an eyebrow raised. “You just gonna stare or are you gonna share your thoughts?”
They held eye contact for a moment before Hyeongjun finally sighed and sat backwards. “I’m trying to figure you out,” he explained. He had a pretty voice, Jungsu noted sourly. It was a bit of a shame he didn’t speak more. “I don’t believe you’re homophobic, and yet you keep making comments. Jiseok advised us to trust him, and of course we all do. It’s just… you seem so different to him.” Hyeongjun stared at him like he was a lab experiment. Like if he looked long enough, Jungsu would just start spilling all of his deepest secrets.
As if.
He readjusted himself, shifting until he was upright again. He leant against the back of the couch, folding his arms across his chest and narrowing his eyes. “I’m nothing like that ball of queer sunshine,” the singer huffed, intending for the words to hurt, but Hyeongjun couldn’t help but crack a small smile. “And I’m not homophobic. I am against the existence of something unnatural. Of course, men were made for women and vice versa-” Jungsu was interrupted by a small chuckle. He froze, his blood boiling. “What’s funny?”
Hyeongjun tipped his head to the side, a wonky smile curling onto his face. “Sorry, just… that sounded an awful lot like him right then. Maybe I was wrong? Maybe you are like him?” His voice was soft, like he was talking to himself. His eyes were distant as he recalled past memories.
Jungsu scoffed, the sound harsh and loud in the relative silence of the room. It cut through the dull thud of the bass from downstairs. “Fuck off,” he growled. “You don’t know me.”
Hyeongjun just nodded easily in agreement. “You’re right, I don’t.” He hesitated, pursing his lips for a moment. “The real question is, do you know yourself? Do you know or are you just suppressing it?”
The singer felt a chill run down his spine. That part of him he had spent years chaining down was slowly ripping away its restraints. He turned away. How could he look at Hyeongjun when he was staring at him like that ? He swallowed his emotions down, resetting the chains and tightening the locks.
He cleared his throat, scratching at the back of his neck. His mind swirled as he changed the subject. “How long has Seungmin had this place?”
With a gentle chuckle, Hyeongjun complied with the change. “We don’t really have time here. Probably like four or five decades in living time, if I had to guess.” Jungsu had never thought about how days and weeks would work in a place like this. It was strange that there was just… no more time. He had to get used to that.
He shrugged nonchalantly. “Makes sense,” he mumbled, picking at a loose thread on the arm of the couch. “What happened to the other guy? He can’t have died.” Jungsu watched Hyeongjun’s reaction through his eyelashes.
The younger shifted, chewing at his lip and thinking his words through carefully. “He didn’t die, no. But he did go away.” He settled on that, seeming pleased with his explanation.
Jungsu was the opposite of pleased. “What’s that supposed to even mean?” he growled, failing to hold back the anger from his tone.
Hyeongjun blinked at him for a few moments before sighing again. He sat forwards, leaning against the pole of the bunk bed. “He found a way out. I don’t know how, but he managed to find a way back to the world of the living. He missed his wife and daughters and he left suddenly one day. No one has seen him since.”
There was a way out? He could go back? Trying his best to maintain his voice’s monotone, the singer asked, “did it work? Is he back with the living now?” He picked at the edge of his fingernail, perhaps taking the nonchalant vibe too far. He didn’t want to seem interested in case it put Hyeongjun off.
The younger shrugged. “No idea. As I said, no one ever saw him again.” He watched Jungsu for a few moments, before he pulled himself off the bed. He groaned as he stretched his joints, rolling his shoulders back and tiling his head from side to side. “I’m going to go down for a shift at the bar,” he said, walking towards the door. “You should rest now. This can all be very overwhelming. Jiseok, and maybe Jooyeon I think, will be up soon. Until then, stay out of trouble.”
And just like that, Jungsu was alone.
He stared around the dimly lit room with a small frown creasing his eyebrows. He stood up, moving to stand in front of the door. If he was there, no one else would be able to get in until he had moved. He would be able to hide what he was doing a lot easier than if he was sitting on the couch trying to quickly shove everything out of sight.
He pulled out the notebook. It was brown leather, bound closed with a thin piece of string. He carefully undid the knot and pried the pages open. They were yellowish and stiff, but the words and sketches were still easy to read.
There was a lot of boring stuff at the front like how much he missed his family and how he wished he could change what he did during his life. Jungsu skimmed past it all. He found what he was looking for on the final page. A map to the door back to the living world.
While he didn’t hate being dead (he only hated the people he was trapped with), Jungsu missed his life. He missed his band and his girlfriend. He missed things being simple and easy. No one wanted him to ‘figure himself out’, or ‘tell the truth’, or any other shit like that.
He wasn’t who these stupid, dead bar staff wanted him to be, and he never could be.
The map looked easy enough to follow seeing as the bar was marked clearly on it as well. He decided he would slip away the next day. First, he needed sleep. Closing and pocketing the notebook again, Jungsu settled down on the couch. It was uncomfortable, loose springs poking at his side, but he decided he didn’t care. He would be gone soon enough anyway.
------
Seungmin shook him awake the next morning to drag him out for a shift. They were packed and understaffed. Jungsu swallowed his complaints after receiving a withering look from the manager. He sewed his lips shut and buried himself in his work.
After a few hours, the crowds seemed to clear out a bit. There was at least space at the bar when the singer’s break rolled around. He dropped himself down onto one of the stools there and waved for the bartender. Finally, he thought to himself, a fucking drink.
Of course, the female bartender had gone on break and he was left face to face with Jooyeon. The youngest had a towel draped over his shoulder and his sleeves rolled up. He looked good, if Jungsu was honest. Jooyeon had this serious look in his eyes, a don’t fuck with me look the singer hadn’t placed as something he could do. It was a look he had always found attractive, and somehow men pulled it off a lot better than women did.
He sighed heavily, waving lazily at him. “Relax, I just want a drink,” he grumbled. “Give me literally the strongest thing you’ve got, and spare me the ‘if you hurt my friend’ talk. I’ve already had it.”
Jooyeon narrowed his eyes for a moment before he complied. He moved back towards the liquor shelves and started mixing them together. Jungsu couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows. Jooyeon was good at making drinks, like really good. Well, Jungsu hadn’t tasted the drink yet, but he definitely looked hot while he did it.
Hot?
No, he looked average. If only Jungsu could see a woman mixing his drink, then he would be really impressed…
The lie even sounded stupid to himself, but he choked that back the same way he did with the drink Jooyeon slid over to him. “Woah, slow down,” the youngest advised. Jungsu coughed a few times. That was a damn strong drink right there. He could feel the effects of the alcohol almost immediately. The tingling and the buzz of the atmosphere around him. He waved shakily for another.
This.
He had missed this.
Relinquishing his control to the alcohol.
He was too tired to be in charge of himself anymore.
Jooyeon hesitated, but still made the requested drink. Just as Jungsu poured the second drink down his throat, a body slid into the chair next to him. “Be careful, babe,” a voice hummed in his ear as an arm slid across his shoulders.
He blinked around to find Jiseok smiling back at him. “Oh, it’s you,” Jungsu sighed, massaging his temples. He had a growing headache that only appeared when Jiseok was around.
“Yup,” he replied, popping the ‘p’. “It’s me, and please don’t sound so excited!” Jungsu groaned at the joke. Jiseok only pulled the singer closer.
In one final attempt at personal space, Jungsu shrugged off the younger’s arm. He waved for another drink, but Jiseok stopped him “You’ve had enough. Let’s talk instead.” The singer tried to argue, but Jiseok took his hands in his own and turned them so they were facing each other. Their knees knocked and Jungsu blushed at the warmth spreading through his body from the contact. His palms were burning with the touches. “How are you finding it here so far? Everyone treating you okay?” He shot a look at Jooyeon, who just shrugged and moved to assist another customer.
Jungsu shrugged, refusing to look the other in the eyes. Instead, he found his attention trained on their connected hands. “Yeah, I guess.” He didn’t say anything else.
Jiseok smiled wonkily, tilting his head. “You’re cute. I’m glad Seungmin found you.”
The comment made Jungsu squirm. The alcohol stung as it ran through his veins. “You don’t know me,” he tried in a hoarse voice.
“Maybe not, but I understand you,” Jiseok replied. His voice was as soft as it could be above the thumping music. For a moment the singer was sure he had misheard him. No one understood Jungsu, he had learnt that the hard way a long time ago. Jiseok was just seeing what he wanted to see.
Jungsu let out a puff of air, looking up to shoot a sour retort back, but the moment their eyes connected, he forgot all of his words.
Jiseok was beautiful.
The rest of the world seemed to fade away as Jungsu looked at Jiseok. The music ducked away and the other people around them bled away. He felt entranced.
A small smile curled onto the other’s lips. He said something, but Jungsu missed it. All he could hear was the blood rushing past his ears. He felt overwhelmed.
Before he could fully process his own actions, he felt Jiseok’s lips brush against his own. There was a moment, a pause where the whole world seemed sto still. His heart rate spiked because what the fuck was going on? Jiseok made a surprised noise, but he still moved in. He still pressed them together and moved his lips against Jungsu’s.
He still kissed back.
Why?
Jungsu didn’t have any mental space to wonder as Jiseok’s hand slipped around his waist. They were flush against each other, lips locked and heads spinning.
Jungsu was receiving the best kiss of his life.
Jungsu was kissing Kwak Jiseok.
He pulled back suddenly.
Jungsu was kissing a boy .
He watched Jiseok’s face fall as the younger registered the horror on his expression. Jungsu pushed himself up from the stool, marching towards the door of the bar.
Jiseok followed, reaching out to grab the singer’s wrist. “Wait! I’m sorry,” he called. “I-I like you…”
Jungsu just pulled away again, wiping his arm on his pants. “You aren’t sorry, and you don’t like me.” And just like that, Jungsu was outside, walking away from the bar. “No one does,” he added to himself.
He pulled out the notebook, flicking to the map.
------
The map made navigation easy. He wound through the streets like they were nothing. He passed burning barrels and smashed in windows. Somewhere a siren rang out and bass vibrations of a nearby club wormed their way under his skin.
People seemed to steer clear of him, and that fact alone made his blood boil. Jiseok’s ‘protection’ was really working. He didn’t need protection. Especially from Gaon.
He was fine.
Just fine.
He ignored the ache inside of him and wiped the unshed tears from his red eyes. He was completely fine .
As he rounded one of the final corners, he bumped into a man a little older than him. Both of them were walking fast, and they both collapsed onto the ground from the impact. Looking around, Jungsu saw the desperate eyes of the man silently pleading with him. The man was usually pretty attractive, he guessed. He had dark eyes and black hair. But, he was matted with dirt and his clothes were ripped as all the civilians seemed to be here.
Over the man’s shoulder, he saw Pablo and a few guys standing there. They looked ready to pounce. “Why, hey-a Jungsu,” Pablo hummed, a toothy grin pulling its way onto his features. “Sorry about this one. He’s pretty clumsy.”
With a snap of his fingers, two of Pablo’s guys moved to grab the man on the ground. He kicked and shouted weakly at them, but he couldn’t escape.
Jungsu staggered to his feet, brushing himself off. He had dirt all over his new jeans and the arms of his good jacket. He sighed, waving a hand dismissively at the men. “Whatever, I don’t care.”
“No, wait! J-Jungsu, was it?” the man who had collided with him called. “Please! P-please help me!”
Jungsu didn’t even react, walking away from them. He suppressed his feelings and focused on the end goal. He was going back to his old life.
------
The door was easy to find. It was easy to step through. It was the falling across dimensions that hurt. His first trip had been smooth and seamless, but this trip was almost the opposite.
Every fibre of his skin burned, stabbing pain echoed through his limbs and constricted his heart. He screamed, but he couldn’t hear his own voice over the sounds of the universe forcing a path through itself for him.
He opened his eyes again and he was standing on the corner of his old street. Dark apartments loomed overhead and the streetlights flickered. While he was falling, it felt like it took a millennia, but thinking back it felt more like a few seconds.
As he took the foreign - foreign? - steps towards his apartment, he wondered if anyone would be home. The world around him swayed as he entered the foyer. He decided to take the elevator instead of the stairs, pressing the second floor button with trembling hands.
Would his girlfriend be crying? Would his bandmates be cleaning out his things? Would his father be reconnecting with them finally, bonding over his passing? He took a breath as the elevator doors opened and readied himself for what he was about to see.
The hallway was empty.
That… wasn’t unexpected. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to see, but that was okay.
Jungsu made his way up the hallway. He still remembered the apartment code, punching it in easily. The door swung open to reveal the darkened apartment.
It was empty.
Well, almost empty.
“…Jungsu?” his girlfriend’s voice called to him from the couch. He squinted into the shadows, freezing when he saw who she was with.
“Fuck, man,” the drummer gaped at him from on top of his girlfriend. “Aren’t you dead?”
His girlfriend?
She was never his.
Or, he was never hers.
She was just a reminder he was broken.
Despite the initial shock of the pair together, he felt nothing.
His lips stung from the kiss earlier. He dropped his head, the world swirling. Something was wrong. It was all wrong. He needed Jiseok.
He needed Jiseok?
He needed Jiseok.
Jungsu said nothing as he closed the apartment door and ran. He took the stairs two at a time, running back down the road at full speed.
He needed Jiseok .
He was wheezing when he got back to Buster’s. Jiseok wasn’t there, and Seungmin just scowled at him, refusing to tell him anything. The whole world swam before him.
He staggered, catching himself on a table. The people sitting there growled at him, shoving his hand away. Jungsu managed to catch himself before he fell flat on his face, to the table owners’ - and Seungmin’s - disappointment.
Suddenly, Jungsu realised where Jiseok was. He stumbled as he ran out the door and up the street. He turned corners and barrelled past buildings, skidding on the dusty ground.
He ran up the stairs, barely managing not to trip over the drunk man half way up. He threw the rooftop door open and there - there! - was Jiseok.
The younger turned to look at him with wide eyes. His face was red and puffy. Jungsu’s heart burned. He made his way over from the doorway. He took his place beside Jiseok and linked their fingers.
“I’m sorry,” Jungsu whispered as he pressed his free hand to the back of the younger’s head. He moved closer, this time fully conscious of what he was doing. He closed the gap, slotting their lips together.
His life was fucked up, but maybe - just maybe - his afterlife didn’t have to be.
------
Gunil’s body ached as he lay against the alleyway wall. He did his best to keep his eyes open. No matter what he did, he couldn’t figure out this ‘afterlife’ thing. He was Pablo’s personal punching bag and it felt helpless to even try and change that.
Maybe this is what he deserved?
Footsteps bounced around the alley walls as someone approached. Gunil just hung his head, not even trying to wipe away his tears. “Just go ahead,” he sniffed. “Take a swing too.”
Instead, the person knelt down beside him. He heard a second person shuffling closer as well. A hand dropped onto his shoulder and he looked up. His eyes were red, but he didn’t care.
There he was, kneeling with him and resting a hand on his shoulder. The one who had refused to help him. Jungsu.
The singer smiled gently at him. His eyes were just as red, tears tracks burning against his soft cheeks. Gunil frowned. “I am sorry,” Jungsu began with a small bow. “I was dealing with something and I couldn’t find room in my heart for you. I’m so sorry and I wish to make it up to you. One of my friends owns a bar. There is medication there. Would you like us to carry you there so we can clear your wounds?”
Gunil stared at him in shock. That grumpy man who had forsaken him was now offering assistance? He looked up at the other man. It was someone he had never seen before. “By the way,” Jungsu continued again, “I am Kim Jungsu. This is Kwak Jiseok, or Gaon. He’s,” the singer looked over his shoulder and shared a meaningful look with the younger, “my boyfriend.”
Jiseok smiled at Gunil, bowing politely. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Gunil ducked his head in a small bow. “You too. My name is Goo Gunil. And,” he hesitated for a moment before nodding to himself, “you can take me to this bar.”
Jungsu let out a breath of relief as he and Jiseok started to lift the man up. “I’m sure you can stay with us as well,” Jiseok said to Gunil.
“Thank you both so much.” His lips turned upwards into a grateful smile, his heart swelling at the action. It was about time he learnt to make the most of the world, and there was no time like the afterlife.