Work Text:
It’d been a long and arduous 214 days since the events of Eden happened. Not that Jongwoo had been counting.
The first month or so after what could be described as the worst week of his life was a blur, a constant jumble of police interviews and hospital staff and his mother fretting over his every move, phone chiming with calls on the hour, every hour, to make sure he was okay. It was enough to send any man over the edge, if Jongwoo hadn’t been tipped over generously already by him.
Jongwoo had begrudgingly decided to move back to Busan to stay with his family, if only until he got back on his feet. That’s what everyone had gently assured him anyway, reminding him that this would only be a brief period of recovery until he felt ready to head back into the world again. The worst part was, Jongwoo had never felt more alive, more ready to brave the streets alone, ignited with a dark, blazing fire that he knew there was no dampening out. He gave all the right answers for the various nurses and psychiatrists who visited his bleak hospital bed and they seemed satisfied he was ready for discharge; Nothing a little rest and relaxation close to home couldn’t fix
But Jongwoo knew something inside him had been awakened, something ugly and starving, that no home-cooked meals and mother’s care could satiate.
He ended up in a dingy little flat on the outskirts of the city, close enough that his mother could keep an eye on him but it gave Jongwoo the space he needed to settle back into some form of normality, an act of a functioning human back on the mend. Before he signed any sort of lease he made sure to research exactly what kind of place he was moving into, any incidents big or small that may have occurred there; The exact floor plan of each apartment to ensure no one could gaze into his bedroom through a peephole.
His job was mind-numbing, the lowest class of local journalism one could get with an interest in writing, but it helped him pay the bills so he supposed he couldn’t complain. Office jobs were out of the question after what happened with Jaeho, so writing low effort articles on the newest budding business and minor petty crimes in Busan had to do.
He still felt drained most nights when he crashed into his tiny one bed apartment, but at least he lived alone. It was the little things he had to be thankful for, he reminded himself, mind flooding with memories of high-pitched giggling echoing around the hallways of Eden, of sharp knives glinting behind backs in the kitchen’s dim light.
It had been an incredibly long shift, the cold winter air beginning to chill the streets had done nothing to lift his mood and the endless typing had left him uninspired and exhausted. He no longer had the inspiration to even think about working on his novel now that all his day consisted of writing, and the unfinished document he returned to every night was beginning to infuriate him, an externalisation of yet another of his failures.
Just let it go, he groaned deeply as he unlocked his front door, entering the pitch black of his apartment. You can’t hold onto anger like this, that’s what the Doctors said.
Throwing himself straight onto his bed, he secretly missed having someone else around to talk with, to share a can of beer and forget about his day. Seokyoon had been annoying, way too bubbly and extroverted for Jongwoo’s tastes but at least he had always seemed excited to talk to him. After Eden, Jongwoo found he struggled to talk to anyone.
His relationship with Jieun had fallen apart quickly after his stay at the hospital ended, although they parted on amicable terms. It’s not your fault Jongwoo, she had assured him, glassy eyes filled with pity, I think we both know this is for the best, but none of this was your fault. She had touched his arm gently like he was fragile, as if he would break if she pressed too hard. He was no more than broken goods to her now, and he understood that he was not the man he had been before Eden.
After tossing and turning in his bed for a while longer, sleep seemed destined to avoid him, exhausted body still thrumming from the day’s work. Maybe he could channel some of whatever energy he had left into finishing his novel, laptop left long forgotten on the coffee table.
Dragging his feet, Jongwoo made his way through his flat by feel alone, only bothering to switch on the lights once he made it to the small living area, crashing on the couch still rubbing his eyes. When they opened, he felt his heart drop.
His laptop wasn’t there.
Torments from Eden came flashing back immediately, the slow terror of insanity as his personal belongings were tampered with to the nonchalance of those he thought he could trust. Jongwoo felt his heart pick up speed as he whipped his head around the small room, trying to find his misplaced laptop.
It was right there, I swear to God I left it right there, Where the fuck did it go.
As Jongwoo stood up in escalating panic, his eyes landed on his laptop sitting almost innocently on the kitchen counter, as if he’d simply left it there after checking a quick email before work. No amount of reassurance could calm his racing mind, its presence bringing no comfort to the implications of how it had made its way from where Jongwoo knew it had been left untouched for days, writer’s block rendering him incapable of even opening the screen.
Jongwoo took a shaky step back, eyes wide. Maybe I just left it there last night and forgot. Maybe I’ve began sleep typing a whole chapter every night. Or maybe…
He quickly snapped himself out of his spiralling thoughts. He couldn’t go back there, not even in his own mind. With a determined resolve to never think about this again, Jongwoo walked straight back into his bedroom and slammed the door shut.
———————————-
Jongwoo was able to brush it off, cast it to the back of his mind in a desperate attempt to detach from all too familiar paranoia Eden had left him with. He continued going to work and assuring his mother on the phone that everything was okay, and collapsing into bed at the end of each shift, life slowly draining out of him. A poor semblance of a common working man just trying to get by.
Until it happened again.
He had only left his apartment to buy some beer and instant ramen from the nearest convenience store, the trip couldn’t have taken longer than 20 minutes. It had been another mind-splitting day of endless typing and ignoring his obnoxious coworkers, Jongwoo thought the beer could help loosen him up.
It had only been 20 minutes but when he returned he froze in the doorway, plastic bag of groceries threatening to slip off his wrist as he stared into his apartment. The TV was still playing as he had left it, empty Word document casting light from his laptop screen, but the book placed innocently on his table caught his eye. The Metamorphosis. His copy.
With shaking hands Jongwoo picked up the book, its dog eared edges and cracked spine feeling all too familiar under his fingers. As he flipped through the pages, frantically looking for answers, an old photo flew out and landed on the table, displaying his own pouting face back to him, almost mocking in the flickering light. His heart raced as stared numbly at the photo, once used as a mindless bookmark, was now torn in half.
That sick bastard tore Jieun out of it.
Jongwoo slammed the book shut and immediately began to pace. He had to calm down, there was no rationale to his logic, there was no reason for him to suspect it was him.
Moonjo was dead, Jongwoo had sliced his neck open with his own hands, there was no way Moonjo could’ve done this.
Sure, Jongwoo had been seeing him everywhere he went since Eden; a smiling face in the crowd of commuters on his way to work, the eyes on the back of his head as he left the subway, the creeping sense of terror as he never felt truly alone in his room anymore. Jongwoo had chalked all these up to simple paranoia, he had never quite been able to shake the lingering flashes of Moonjo in his life from the very first day they met.
But no hallucinations or paranoia could explain what he felt heavy and almost still warm to the touch in his hands, a copy of a book he had last seen in Eden, with a distinctly tampered photograph of him.
Jongwoo couldn’t sleep a wink that night, mind racing and pulse hammering through his shaking frame as he desperately tried to rationalise away the only explanation his mind would give him. Moonjo had to be alive.
———————————-
Making it home in one piece had not been an easy task, unlocking the door to his apartment proved even harder. Jongwoo had perhaps a few too many beers, craving anything to silence his screaming mind and ignite the fire in his veins. He had certainly got what he was hoping for, if his bloodied and swollen knuckles were anything to go by, Jongwoo hissing as they dragged against the concrete as he stumbled into the dark apartment.
Slamming his hand into the wall a couple times in order to locate the light switch proved unsuccessful, Jongwoo sighing as he resigned himself to muscle memory as he fumbled around in darkness. With only minimal contact to the furniture strewn across his apartment, he collapsed in a heap onto his dingy sofa, spinning head in his aching hands.
What was he doing? He couldn’t keep on living like this, getting shitfaced on cheap beer, roaming the streets looking for the first unfortunate bastard to look at him the wrong way. Feeling their nose snap under his pummeling fists, not stopping until he felt like it, heaving and panting from the exertion. Jongwoo groaned, but he couldn’t deny the feeling of freedom he felt during the act, like he was the only person in the world, the power oozing from every pore and swallowing him whole until he came to, with an innocent victim coughing blood through broken teeth beneath him.
Moonjo would’ve loved to have seen it, his masterpiece in action.
Jongwoo gasped, his brain’s unfiltered commentary slipping through from the tight control he worked to keep it under, alcohol loosening his grip on sanity, on the thoughts he desperately tried to ignore.. He shook his head violently and slammed face down into his couch cushions. This sad excuse for a bed would have to do, Jongwoo thought, as prayed for a swift and dreamless sleep to take over him.
Waking up the next morning, Jongwoo began to regret ever surviving Eden, nevermind leaving his apartment the day before. His head pounded with a nasty hangover, worsened by the bright sunlight streaming through his curtains, and every limb and muscle seemed to ache. Tentatively blinking, Jongwoo surveyed the damage of his knuckles only to find them blood free, carefully cleaned and bandaged, if only a bit inflamed. He felt his pulse start to quicken as his confusion built, as he noticed the glass of water placed right beside him on the table.
I- I couldn’t have done this, I could barely walk last night. Jongwoo could feel his panic rising as he moved to sit up, only to feel a warm blanket shifting off his body as he rose. Where the fuck did the blanket come from? He felt his blood run cold, immediately sobering up every drop of alcohol left lingering from the night before as he tried to piece together his surroundings as calmly as possible before he flipped a table.
The water, the blanket, his carefully bandaged knuckles- Jongwoo didn’t pass out in this state, he knew that for a fact, remembering the fight with his keys even trying to unlock the front door. There had to be some sort of explanation for all this, something innocuous and laughable that could calm him down. Rising on shaking legs, Jongwoo began to pace his apartment, inspecting every piece of dust and appliance for any other signs that someone else had been here last night but it was useless. If anything, the goddamn place looked cleaner than when Jongwoo had left it.
He sighed, hands slamming into his head for good measure as desperately tried to wrap his mind around what he knew to be happening to him. There was no other explanation for these almost ghostly incidents, of items appearing and disappearing without a trace. There was only one force in Jongwoo’s life apparently stronger than death itself, intent on making itself known and refusing to let him think, even for a minute, he could live without him.
Jongwoo wasn’t sure how long he had spent pacing the floor, hands gripped tightly in his hair till his scalp began to ache, until he eventually managed to slow himself down, eyes scanning the empty apartment. He had to stay calm, getting paranoid would only feed into what Moonjo wanted, he had to maintain control of himself. For months he had convinced himself the glimpses of Moonjo he had seen in the busy streets had only been a fiction of his imagination, the unshakeable feeling of being watched simply the effect of too much stress after a long day’s work. The reality that he had been right along, that he really hadn’t been alone all these months since that last fateful night in Eden made him smile despite himself, twisted grin slowly creeping over his face, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. A soft laugh escaped from his parted lips, hands uselessly flailing at his sides for lack of anything to do with them, burst knuckles long forgotten.
Moonjo had to have found him. He could finally confront the man who had ruined every aspect of his life; destroyed his sanity and left Jongwoo to pick up whatever pieces remained, who consumed his every waking thought with whispers of jagiya and ghostly traces of his cold fingertips across his neck. Jongwoo felt almost giddy with deranged excitement.
The beams of lazy afternoon sunlight glazed his empty apartment with an almost cosy light, soft yellows making the small space seem warmer than ever before. Jongwoo was losing his mind, he was sure of it now. No one should feel this excited over meeting the man he had once previously tried to kill with every murderous fibre of his being. Taking a deep breath, Jongwoo tried to calm himself, making his way to the fridge to try and find something to fill his noticeably empty stomach and to distract himself from his racing mind.. Upon opening the door, he noticed a fresh pack of beer cans, crisp with condensation, and frowned. The exact kind of beers he had drunk many times before on the rooftop of Eden.
It was only mid-afternoon but Jongwoo decided it would be rude to refuse such a gift from his apparent stalker now, and cracked a can open, downing a can as fast as he could.
———————————-
There had been no more incidents since that night.
Every night Jongwoo came back from work with a strange sense of anticipation, scanning his apartment immediately for any items out of place, or any new gifts left behind, but every night he felt a sick sense of disappointment as everything stayed exactly how he had left them. He shouldn’t feel so crestfallen at the sudden disappearance of Moonjo’s potential presence he knew, but he couldn’t help it. Moonjo had awakened something inside of him, something that had simmered slowly for years deep inside - a tank full of gasoline just waiting for Moonjo to light the match. On his darkest nights, Jongwoo often retrieved the bracelet Moonjo had carefully created for him, and gently thumbed over every tooth, simply staring, mind blissfully quiet. The curated facade of normality and recovery he had presented ever since the events of Eden was simply a mask, shed only in moments of deep hunger for that of his fist destroying some random jerk’s face. Moonjo had built him into this horrible image of a monster, and yet Jongwoo found it was finally the version of himself he recognised the most; Not the caring, doting boyfriend, the hardworking employee, or even the strict soldier blindly following orders. Moonjo saw him for what he truly was, and that terrified him.
When the weekend finally arrived with no further contact from what he knew had to be Moonjo, Jongwoo decided he had to try and return the favour, to let Moonjo know that he knew. He knew he was there and just maybe, he wanted to see him too. Before leaving for work on Friday morning, he left a note on the kitchen counter, in plain sight where he knew Moonjo would see it if he happened to come by. He felt desperate and repulsed by his own actions, but he had to know, he had to send some sort of sign to find out if it truly was him, or if his sanity had truly been lost to his own sick delusions. Jongwoo made a point of locking the door as he left, taking one last look at the note before steeling himself for the day ahead, the mask of normality slipping on once again.
Meet me on the rooftop tonight. Bring beer.
———————————-
The air was bitingly cold and Jongwoo could see his breath with every exhale, small puffs of grey dissipating into the night sky. The city bustled below him, yells of drunken crowds through the streets and car horns echoed through the air, but to Jongwoo they were simply muted background noise, barely recognised above the sound of his own thoughts. It was stupid to be waiting up here, he told himself. It was stupid and desperate to be waiting for someone who he had thought only weeks ago to be dead by his own hand.
Yet here he was, waiting around for over an hour like an idiot, kicking stray stones and checking his phone settings to pass the time. He itched for a cigarette, at least to have something to do with his hands, though he had stopped smoking for almost a year now. This whole ordeal had been a stupid fantasy and even so long after Eden, he couldn’t let go of Moonjo, let go of the mere thought that he might still be alive.
This meeting was purely out of revenge, he tried to rationalise to himself as he paced, he just wanted to see the bastard one last time before he put him in the ground for good. It was pathetic, but it was the only way to keep himself sane, as he gazed down at the city streets below, waiting for a ghost.
I’ll give myself two hours, Jongwoo thought. If he doesn’t show up then I’ll have all the proof I need that this has just been some sort of mental break, that there’s nothing to be afraid of.
The clock continued to tick by, and with every glance at his phone Jongwoo felt himself sobering from his delusions. Moonjo was nothing but persistent at Eden for their nightly drinks on the rooftop, if he had seen Jongwoo’s note there was no way he’d be so late surely. Jongwoo sighed, berating himself for being so stupid to even think Moonjo was even alive, nevermind that he was waiting for an invitation to see him again.
If he hadn't been so caught up in his own thoughts, maybe Jongwoo would have heard the slow creaking of the rooftop door opening, heard the footsteps making their way casually towards him. It wasn’t until they were standing right next to him and a single word floated across the air between them that Jongwoo looked up, heart dropping as he took in the sight before him.
“Jagiya.”
Before him stood the man he had both cursed and hoped for, prayed for his death and his presence beside him. His hair was considerably longer than Jongwoo remembered, but it still looked well kept, clothes still the same casual all black attire. A six pack of beer was placed on the rooftop wall between them and a soft smile spread pleasantly across his face. His eyes were as intense as ever, full of more emotion than Jongwoo had ever seen directed towards him; Love, admiration, devotion… Jongwoo felt his heart stop, the chaotic sounds of the city beneath them melted away as every sense zeroed into the man before him.
Moonjo.
Jongwoo was frozen, suddenly speechless despite imagining every scenario of finally meeting Moonjo again after all these months. The thought that he would actually materialise before him seemed unreal, a true living ghost. He had to reach out, to make sure he was truly physical and warm beneath his touch. The way Moonjo’s face softened as Jongwoo’s hand touched his arm didn’t escape him despite his haze.
And so they stayed that way for a couple seconds more, Jongwoo’s hand gently pressing into Moonjo’s arm as the latter’s gaze dissolved into a pool of want, of pure satisfaction that everything he dreamed of proved to be coming true.
Finally, Jongwoo spoke. “You- You’ve been in my apartment, haven’t you? You sick bastard, you've been driving me crazy these past couple weeks, what right do you have…’
“I’ve missed you, jagiya.” Moonjo replied simply, as if it was obvious.
Jongwoo reeled back in shock, brow furrowing in disbelief. “You’ve been breaking into my apartment, moving my belongings, making me think I’m losing my mind… Is that all you have to say?!”
Moonjo laughed at that, a soft, fond sound that only made Jongwoo angrier. “Come now, you can’t say that you haven’t been enjoying it, right? Breaking into your apartment was easy, letting you know I was there was the fun part. I knew you’d pick up on it immediately, so smart.” He smiled fondly, as if recalling his memories of tampering with Jongwoo’s apartment was a fond pastime, just an innocent game to him.
“You’re the one who left me the note to meet here tonight, remember? You’ve missed me too, jagiya.”
Jongwoo was speechless. Moonjo was right, he had left the invitation to meet him in plain sight. No normal functioning being would ever want to reconnect with that who destroyed their entire being for a couple beers on the rooftop. His mind was reeling, thoughts moving too fast to possibly grasp onto a sensible solution to his current situation, one he had willingly arranged and placed himself into.
Patient as ever, Moonjo simply stood and stared, that unrelenting gaze making Jongwoo as uncomfortable as that first night they had met at Eden. Memories of their conversations spun through his mind, of Moonjo’s interest in his novel, his upfront confession of I like you falling from his lips as if it was nothing more than small talk. Jongwoo took a deep breath and snatched a beer from the pack Moonjo had brought, cracking it open and taking a long swig. Ignoring Moonjo’s loving gaze upon him, he finally spoke.
“Why? I killed you… I sliced your throat open with my bare hands I-... I’ve seen you almost every week ever since. I convinced myself it was my own paranoia playing tricks on me but… but it really was you. Why now Moonjo?”
He turned his gaze back on to the other man, whole body steeled in self defence, although somewhere deep inside of him knew he had nothing to fear, that Moonjo and he were equals now, after everything they had been through. Moonjo’s gaze flickered down to his lips as Jongwoo took another sip of beer and he shivered.
“I already told you my dear, I missed you. It’s been too long since we last saw each other, well, at least intentionally.” His face flickered with a smirk, his stalking of Jongwoo seemingly amusing. “And besides, after I saw what you did to that man the other night, I knew you needed me.”
Moonjo’s gaze turned briefly onto Jongwoo’s bandaged knuckles, and he smiled darkly. “You’re not the same man as you were before Eden or, perhaps I should say, you’re finally the man you were always meant to be. You can’t live without violence, jagiya, even when I’m not around you can’t stop yourself from destroying deserving flesh. You know it feels good, feels right.”
Moonjo stepped closer until their bodies were mere inches apart, yet Jongwoo remained still, made no moves to distance himself from the looming figure in front of him. Moonjo smelled of stale cigarette smoke and his long hair fell partially in front of his face as he leaned ever so slightly down to Jongwoo’s height.
“You are the greatest artwork I ever created jagiya.”
What could Jongwoo say? It wasn’t the first time he had heard these words spoken to him, the hallways of Eden echoed in his mind, but now they felt so real, as Jongwoo knew them to be true. Whatever he could try and call himself today was all created by Moonjo, a delighted puppet master watching his creation wreak havoc and draw blood from whoever he deemed lowly enough to target. Jongwoo grit his teeth as he glared at the other man, fists balling at his sides as he felt his carefully constructed facade of normality slowly unravelling around him with every word.
“Shut the fuck up you bastard.” The words passed as nothing more than a grunt between them before Jongwoo lunged at the other man, pressing his lips firmly against Moonjo’s own, suddenly parted in surprise.
He ignored the gasp of shock from the taller man and pressed on, eyes screwed shut before finally he felt Moonjo melt against him, tentatively beginning to kiss back as if he couldn’t quite process what was happening. Gentle hands slowly began to creep up Jongwoo’s body, resting softly on his face, touch growing firmer with every passing second. As the kiss deepened, Jongwoo felt himself begin to relax, months of exhaustion seeping out of him, letting himself be held by the only person in the world capable of accepting him, loving him for who he truly was.
The kiss could’ve lasted seconds or hours, it all felt the same to Jongwoo. His mind was peacefully quiet as if it had all been leading up to this moment - all the pain and heartbreak and terror was simply a stepping stone to accepting Moonjo’s love. In a twisted way he supposed he must love him back, or else he wouldn’t be here right now, fingers twisting handfuls of the other man’s hair, gripping onto him like a lifeline as small pained whines escaped from Moonjo’s throat.
They eventually separated, the silence between them only filled with their heaving breaths and the noise of the city. Moonjo looked perhaps the most shaken Jongwoo had ever had the pleasure of seeing him; a man usually so calm and composed no matter the situation being ruined by a single kiss seemed sickly satisfying to him. Serves him right, Jongwoo thought hazily, after everything he’s put me through.
Jongwoo continued to smile, face half deranged, half flushed, as Moonjo stood like a deer in headlights, wide eyes finally flickering back to the shorter man. Cracking open another can of beer and feeling the most human he had felt in months, maybe his entire life, Jongwoo turned and made his way towards the rooftop door, not taking a second look at the man left ruined in his wake. Before he began to descend down the stairwell back to his apartment, he shouted over his shoulder into the chilled night air.
“You know where to find me, Moonjo”