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How do you describe something as indescribable as fear? The primal privacy of it, the way it swims through your veins and corrupts your entire body? How do you explain to someone the experience that you went through when they have never lived through anything similar? How do you describe it to someone who has survived an even worse experience?
How do you explain it to someone who suffered even worse because of you?
All of these thoughts and questions ran through Pil's mind on a daily basis. They ate him up inside, worse than any hunger or sickness that he had ever experienced. There were only two things worse than his anxious thoughts – the dreams and the memories. Pil was not sure which of the two that he hated more.
The dreams haunted Pil every time he tried to sleep. Calling them nightmares would be more apt, but he preferred to name the reason for the dark circles under his eyes as a “bad dream” rather than a nightmare. Pil had tried nearly every idea he could find online to try to have a proper rest at night, but nothing had worked.
Pil dreamed of explosions. Pil dreamed of fire. Pil dreamed of empty hospitals and cold urns and the smell of death. Pil dreamed of losing everyone close to him, in all manner of painful ways that left him shaking and sobbing in his empty bed as he tried to stifle his cries so that he did not disturb his neighbors. He dreamed of Dojin and Seol and Kisoo being consumed by the fires that they fought every day, of finding the lifeless bodies of Anna and Samsoon left at their desks when he clocked in at work. Pil dreamed of Baek Cham and Deokgo Soon being swept away from each other by raging waters, of both of their stations falling into piles of rubble. He dreamed of Doctor Yoon Hong and Kang Doha being blackmailed again, of their computers exploding in front of them due to a latent plan of Dex's. But most of all, Pil dreamed of Hogae.
Pil dreamed of his partner being held hostage, being drugged, being shot. Pil dreamed of Hogae on his knees as Dex stood behind him, a triumphant smile on his face, as he cocked Hogae's own gun against the back of Hogae's head. Pil dreamed of being helpless, of being forced to watch as Dex carved into Hogae's flesh with merciless precision. Pil watched as Dex set up a maze of tripwires and bombs around Hogae, and no matter which wire Pil cut, Hogae would always die.
Pil dreamed of crawling through the still-hot ashes of the caravan, sifting through the burning remains for any sign that Hogae was still alive. He dreamed of screaming Hogae's name until his throat was raw even when he woke up, if it could be called waking up. Pil would wake up clawing at the bandages covering his own burn wounds, every sensation too much for his dream-sensitive skin. The doctors and nurses asked him questions, some with words and some with worried looks, but Pil brushed them all off with a smile. He could get through this. He started wearing gloves to bed to prevent tearing off his bandages, and instead woke up in burning sweats as if he had just stepped out of a fire.
Pil often thought about he himself had almost died as well. He thought about the way that the caravan had exploded in front of him, how the hungry flames had burned their afterimage into his eyes. He thought about how the firefighter team and paramedics had risked their lives rescuing him even as the fire spread to nearby cars. Pil thought about Dex standing over his hospital bed while he was unconscious, the way Dex could have easily ended his life with the simple push of a syringe. Most of all, Pil thought about how Hogae had only given in when he saw Dex threaten Pil's life. Pil thought about how he had nearly gotten Doha killed by walking straight into Dex's trap. He remembered how Doha's hands had trembled over the wires, how his body crumpled from the shockwave as the explosion buried both of them in debris. Doha did not seem to hold a grudge about Pil's mistake, but Pil still felt guilty about it. Whenever he talked to Doha, Pil tried to help him with whatever he asked. It was the only way that he knew how to apologize in a way that Doha would accept.
It was harder to find a way to make it up to Hogae, Hogae who had experienced worse under Dex's hand and yet still chose to try to protect Pil despite the risk of further torture and death. Hogae took one glance at him when Pil clocked in after a particularly grueling night and asked to talk to him during lunch break. Pil debated telling the older man about his most recent dream – Hogae chained like a dog, bleeding from a dozen wounds as Dex languidly pressed the button on the remote to electrocute Hogae past the point of no return – and immediately decided against it.
“I'm fine, Hogae-hyung,” Pil said as he picked at his food. It had been cooked by Dojin, but nothing seemed to taste the same anymore. He used his chopsticks to gather a small bite of meat and forced himself to chew and swallow as Hogae watched him.
Hogae's eyebrows knitted together as he continued to watch Pil. “Are you sure?” He asked, a little hesitantly. “Every morning you come in looking like you haven't slept at all. Even Baek Cham has noticed it. And you haven't been eating as much lately. Didn't Dojin cook that for you? I thought you loved his food, even if it's leftovers.”
Pil shrugged his shoulders and avoided looking at Hogae's searching eyes. “I just haven't had much appetite lately. Maybe it's the weather? It's been getting colder.”
Hogae frowned. The larger man half-leaned across the table, reaching with his chopsticks for the food in front of Pil. “You gonna eat this?” He pointed at a large piece of meat and picked it up before Pil could respond. Hogae popped the morsel into his mouth and slowly chewed, watching Pil all the while.
Pil pushed the rest of the food around with his own chopsticks. “Do you want the rest?” He asked. Hogae had been working hard as usual, running around looking for information that most people would ignore. He needed this meal more than Pil, who was trying not to waste it but failing.
“No,” Hogae said firmly. “You eat it.” He had a complicated expression on his face that Pil was unable to decipher. Pil shrank slightly in his chair, his shoulders hunching at Hogae's tone. Before, he had always been able to laugh off Hogae's rough words or stern tone. Now, however, Pil felt a terrible mix of panic and anxiety brewing inside him for almost no discernible reason. Hogae had not said a word but Pil could imagine the words that the older detective wanted to say.
Hogae would scold him for wasting the food, for letting the dreams affect him so badly, for falling behind on his work. Hogae would scold him and Hogae would be right because Pil had been neglecting his duties due to the thoughts constantly swarming in his mind. Pil thought that Hogae should blame him for all the trouble he had caused and was continuing to make.
“I'll eat it later,” Pil mumbled. He forced himself to uncurl his shoulders and hurriedly repacked the food. Before Hogae could stop him, Pil rushed out of the cafeteria. Clutching his stomach with one hand and bag with the other, he rushed out of the police station and to the fire station next door. Luckily for him, the fire station was empty. The members were probably all busy with their jobs, unlike Pil.
Pil left his bag on a nearby table and burst into the bathroom. He clutched the edge of the sink as he vomited up what little lunch he had eaten. The bile burned his throat and his eyes grew blurry with tears. Pil managed to turn the sink on through his growing haze. The sound of running water helped drown out his retching and half-choked sobbing. Pil was glad that no one was there to witness his suffering, but he also wished that someone was there just to rub his back or hold his hair and tell him that he would be okay. But no one was there when Pil entered the firefighter's station, and no one was there when he left.
That night, Pil’s dreams were even worse than usual.
The memories found new ways to make his life like his dreams almost every day. Pil sat at his desk, spinning his pen in his fingers as he stared at the numbers on the screen before him. They began to swim together, and, for a moment, Pil saw his name written in Dex's loose, almost lazy penmanship. He jumped backward, kicking the desk and making Baek Cham look up from his own paperwork.
“Dozed off,” Pil said, struggling to keep his voice steady. He knew that there was no way that Dex could have hacked his computer, but Pil still felt his blood turning icy from fear.
Baek Cham raised one greying eyebrow at him. “Why don't you go get us both something to drink from the vending machine?”
Pil nodded and stood up, wringing his hands to stop them from shaking. He hurried out of the door, digging in his pocket for any loose change. He pretended that he did not hear Baek Cham calling him back, even though Baek Cham was offering to pay. Pil power walked down the hall, picking at the zipper of his bag to distract himself.
He punched in the numbers for two bottled sodas at the old vending machine. As he waited for it to register his order, he saw Samsoon walking down the hall. Beside her was a tall person in blue scrubs and a white labcoat. Cold panic awoke beneath Pil's skin, and he fought the urge to run away as they approached. The person in the lab coat looked up as they approached, and Pil felt immeasurable relief as he recognized Kang Doha's face.
Samsoon greeted him with her usual beaming smile. “Hey, kid,” she joked. “Did Chief Polar Bear send you to get these drinks or are they for you and detective Jin?”
Pil's cheeks flushed. “Chief asked me to get them,” he answered her. He wondered where Hogae was. His detective had been busy sorting out an old case that Hogae's late father had helped cover up. Hogae was hot on the tail of the perpetrators, and had asked Pil to assist him from the office. Pil would have usually complained about doing office work, but he was quietly thankful for it now. Running after Hogae on only a few hours of fitful sleep would be a surefire way for him to pass out mid-investigation.
Doha nodded at him slightly, a look of deep concentration on his face. “Detective Gongmyeong.” His piercing eyes raked over Pil's expression and Pil tried to stand a little taller under the sudden inspection. “How have you been?” Doha asked suddenly, as if he and Pil did not see each other every few days at the NFS.
Pil blinked. He did not think he had ever heard those words leave Doha's mouth, at least in this context or tone. “Um, I'm doing alright,” Pil said. “Work's busy, as always. Do you need my help with a case?”
“No,” Doha shook his head. The taller man ignored the confused looks that both Samsoon and Pil were giving him. “What, I can't even ask someone a question?” He rolled his eyes with a half-hearted scuff.
“Wow,” Samsoon said, her eyes wide. “I can't believe it. You're finally starting to socialize with your co-workers!” She gave Doha an enthusiastic pat on the shoulder.
“We're not technically co-workers,” Doha huffed. “I was just – never mind. What data did you want me to look at again?” He started walking away down the hall, coat billowing behind him.
Samsoon laughed and bid Pil a good day. Pil smiled at her as he retrieved the drinks from the vending machine. When he made his way back into the office, Baek Cham thanked him and paid him for his drink. Pil sat back down at his desk, unscrewing the cap to the soda as he stared at his computer screen. The numbers, thankfully, did not change and he prepared to get back to work.
Throughout the rest of the shift, Pil sent occasional texts to Hogae to see how the case was progressing. For a little while, Hogae replied, updating Pil on his location as he tracked someone through Taewon's streets. But after a while, Hogae stopped replying. He was not even reading the texts, and Pil found himself being caught up in another spiral of anxiety and panic. He thought about asking Anna to trace Hogae's location, but Hogae had been adamant on keeping most of them out of this case. “It's for your own safety,” Hogae had said when he had started the investigation.
Three hours slowly ticked by and Pil felt the palm of his burned hand starting to itch from his growing stress. He paced around the police station, his eyes alternating between checking the entrance and checking his phone. Maybe Hogae could not answer for a normal reason, like a dead battery or no signal. Maybe someone had stolen his phone. Or maybe, said the voice in the back of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Dex's, maybe Hogae was avoiding Pil. Maybe Hogae was tired of Pil's texts; maybe Hogae had remembered their awkward lunch from last week. Maybe Hogae had finally bitten off more than he could chew and was lying dead somewhere that Pil would never be able to find.
After a few more minutes of anxious pacing, Pil decided to go get his own car and to drive to Hogae's last known location. He stopped in his tracks when he saw a police car pull up in front of the building. Hogae was getting out of the back, and Pil completely forgot about the driver and the criminal handcuffed to Hogae’s wrist. He dashed out of the station, clutching his bag with one hand, and barreled into Hogae’s chest before the other man could even get up the steps.
“Detective Jin,” Pil whined, his head buried in Hogae’s shoulder, “What happened? I thought…” he trailed off, unwilling to continue. He stomped down on the dark thoughts that his mind kept presenting him with.
Hogae awkwardly patted Pil on the back with his free hand. “Look, I’ll explain when I’m not cuffed to this bastard.” He shook his arm, making the cuffs jingle. “Come on, let’s go.”
Pil sniffed but released Hogae. He refused to cry in front of someone that Hogae had arrested. Pil followed Hogae into the building, doing his best to assist the detective with the paperwork and other regularities of the job that came with making an arrest. Hogae massaged his wrist once the heavy metal cuff was unlocked. He sat down at his desk in the office with a sigh and rubbed his eyes. Pil leaned on the dividing wall, trying not to look as worried and upset as he felt.
Hogae pulled an evidence bag from his pocket. It was full of the crushed remains of what looked like a phone. “That punk broke my phone,” he grumbled. “I couldn’t call for backup or give you any updates.”
Pil tried to heave a sigh of relief, but tension was still boiling inside of him. “Was that person involved with Jin Cheoljoong?” He asked.
Hogae nodded. “My father tried to hide them, but he’s not around to protect them anymore. I’ll question them later.” He leaned over in his chair and ruffled Pil’s hair. Pil ducked his head and let Hogae card his fingers through his hair. The nerves in his body slowly relaxed as Hogae continued to pet his hair, as if Pil was the one with the animal nickname instead of Hogae. Pil felt exhausted as the last bits of adrenaline left his system and he leaned into Hogae’s touch. Hogae smiled, a wide, comforting smile that he seemed to reserve just for Pil.
Eventually, Hogae stopped patting Pil on the head and stood up to stretch. “I’ll get a new phone tomorrow,” he said as he rolled his shoulders. “I’m going to question the criminal, then I’m headed home. Get some sleep, alright?”
Pil nodded, already missing Hogae’s presence as he thought about the approaching hours where his only company would be his dreams. “Good night.” He grabbed his bag and followed Hogae out of the office. Hogae waved goodbye to him as he went deeper into the police station and Pil wished him a good night’s rest again before Hogae disappeared from sight. Pil let out a tired sigh as he clocked out and began the trip home to his apartment.
Pil dreamed of Hogae. He dreamed of texting the detective, of knowing that Hogae was in trouble but being unable to find him. Pil ran through endless dark hallways filled with dark windows and locked doors. Any of them could have held Hogae, but no matter how hard Pil threw himself against the doors, they never budged. Even when he beat the windows with his baton until his arms ached, they never cracked.
Pil sank to the floor in front of one of the doors, his body shaking from the force of his tears. Suddenly, he heard a familiar voice that made him struggle back to his aching feet. He ran in the direction of that voice, the one voice that he could recognize even through the static distortion of a walkie-talkie. Pil could hear himself screaming Hogae’s name. His voice echoed off of the walls until he was surrounded by the constant howling of Hogae’s name. A door loomed in front of him, and before Pil could brace for impact, he broke through the door.
Pil lay on the floor, his muscles aching and ears ringing. He looked around as a light flickered on ahead of him. He was in Dex’s hideout, the old abandoned warehouse where the tunnel had collapsed on him and Doha while Hogae fought for his own and Seol’s life. Pil staggered to his feet, pulling out his baton with shaking hands.
Pil had almost reached the lightbulb when a figure burst out of the darkness and knocked him once more to the ground. Pil cried out in pain and swung blindly with the baton, but the person who tackled him grabbed his wrist and twisted it until he was forced to drop his weapon. Pil gasped for air as his attacker rained blows onto his face until all Pil could do was curl into a ball to try to protect himself. He could feel blood dripping down his face, but no matter what he did, every punch continued to get past his guard to connect with his face.
The person attacking Pil finally stopped punching him and leaned back so that their face was lit by the light. Every cell in Pil’s body recoiled in fear as he stared up at the man pinning him down. It was Dex. The crafty looking man rolled his shoulders in a slow, relaxed motion that reminded Pil of Hogae’s earlier actions. It made Pil sick to see any kind of parallel in the two men – one who was his partner and the other who was his worst nightmare.
“Well, well,” Dex said. His eyes reflected the light and glinted like knives. “Look who waltzed right into my humble abode.” He stood to his full height and spread his arms, casting his shadow over Pil like some kind of twisted deity.
Pil tried to roll away but Dex struck as fast as a viper. He stomped down, hard, on Pil’s torso. Something cracked and Pil screamed like he had never screamed before, screamed as he felt something shatter and break inside of him. Dex laughed as he ground his heel further into Pil’s ribs. The pain was hot and cold at the same time and Pil felt like his torso was full of broken, burning glass.
Dex stepped off of Pil’s body and grabbed him by the scalp. He yanked Pil to his feet, ignoring Pil’s pained noises. Dex dragged Pil away from the light and further into the darkness. Pil stumbled forward, clutching his sides as his body felt like it was breaking apart. Dex shoved him forward and Pil barely caught himself on the edge of a large table covered with computer screens, keyboards, and propped-up tablets. The sudden kick to the back of his knees was unexpectedly swift and ruthless, and Pil collapsed beside the table.
“You don’t deserve to touch that,” Dex hissed in his ear. He towered over Pil, seeming to absorb in every bit of light that escaped the screens. Dex reached into a pile of nearby junk and pulled out a red wire. Pil flinched away but Dex grabbed him by the back of the neck and forced him to stay still. Pil closed his eyes, tears trickling down his cheeks as Dex wound the red wire around his throat. A low beeping erupted from behind him and Pil knew without looking that there was a bomb connected to him. His breath caught in his throat and although the wire was not choking him, he felt like he could barely breathe.
“How pretty,” Dex mused. He placed one hand on top of Pil’s head, patting at the hair that he had nearly ripped out. “Perhaps I should make more bombs like this one.” He reached down and squeezed Pil’s trembling hands. “You know better than to move, don’t you?” He turned back to the screens and began to type.
Pil tried not to panic. His breath came in short, painful gasps as his broken ribs shifted with each inhale and exhale. His entire body was shaking in pain and fear, but he did not dare to reach up and remove the wire around his neck. It was hot, almost scalding, and the beeping of the device behind him was louder than his own heaving attempts for air.
Dex looked down at him after what felt like an eternity. He had a calm, almost blank expression on his fox-like face. “I think you should see this.” He grabbed Pil by the shoulder, pulling him to his feet even as the beeping grew louder. Pil froze, becoming as limp as a doll in Dex’s rough grasp as the taller man dragged him closer.
“Look!” Dex barked. He grabbed Pil roughly by the chin and twisted his head to face the largest computer screen.
Pil was forced to look straight ahead. The harsh computer light hurt his eyes in the near darkness, but Dex’s grip was like iron. He squinted through watery eyes until he could make out what was happening. He saw three figures moving across the parking lot outside of Dex’s hideout. The screen slowly became clearer and Pil recognized the people as Hogae, Seol, and Doha.
Seol was half-unconscious, clutching a bleeding wound on her head as Hogae and Doha helped support her weight. Both men were covered in dirt and debris. Doha turned around to face the camera, a complex expression on his face. He pointed at the building behind them, where Pil was being held, and Pil felt hope spring to life in his chest. Then Hogae turned around. The older man took a quick glance at the building and shook his head. Pil felt his stomach drop as Doha shrugged and continued to help Seol move forward. Pil watched in silent horror as his friends walked away and left him behind. He could not believe that they were leaving him to Dex’s mercy.
Dex’s laughter interrupted his thoughts. “Do you see?” Dex said as he released Pil’s chin, his voice like syrup and poison. “They left you behind so they could escape. It was your life or theirs; that was the ultimatum I gave them.”
“No,” Pil whispered. “You’re lying. Detective Jin would never abandon me.” He shook his head, no longer caring about the bomb.
“You’re wrong. He just drove off.” Dex’s hands were heavy on Pil’s shoulders, a cruel mockery of comfort. “You’ll be here with me forever.”
“I’d rather die than stay here with you!” Pil yelled. He lifted his arms, ignoring all instincts of self-preservation, and ripped the wire from around his neck. For a moment, nothing happened. The explosion was so sudden that Pil’s senses could not register it fast enough. The scream in his throat was ripped away by the heat and sound, and Pil felt himself being thrown into the darkness from the force of the explosion. His last thought was that at least there was no way that Dex could have survived the blast.
Pil woke up with a choked gasp, his body drenched with sweat and his face sticky with tears. He was face down in bed, buried beneath his blankets as if they could hide him from reality. His ribs ached and, for a long, terrible moment, Pil thought that his dream was real. Hogae had left him in Dex’s hands, and, while Pil had somehow survived the explosion, his body was still marked by Dex’s handiwork. Pil’s sweaty hands cautiously felt across his body, feeling for the damage. Instead of blood or abrasions, he found the smooth case of his phone nestled beneath his ribcage, warmed by his body. He slowly rolled onto his side and waited for the sharp stab of pain, but nothing happened. His phone had a new dent in the corner but otherwise seemed fine.
Pil rubbed at his bloodshot eyes as he tried to remember what had happened before he fell asleep. He had been looking at his previous messages to Hogae, replaying the moment from earlier in the day when Hogae had stroked his hair. Pil shivered, the sweat on his skin cooling rapidly in the night air, as he remembered the feeling of Dex’s hand on his head. It had been a dream, but it did not feel like one. His face hurt from Dex’s punches, his ribs still felt like shattered glass, and his throat felt like something was wound around it.
His stomach lurched and Pil forced himself to roll out of bed despite the tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. He landed hard, his knees buckling and bringing him to the cold wooden floor. He used his bedside table to pull himself back to his feet. Pil wobbled, body trembling, as he used the wall to support himself on the short trip to his bathroom. He stood over the sink, elbows quivering from exhaustion as his chest rose and fell with every dry heave. There was nothing in his stomach to expel, only bitter bile and water. Pil released a weak, barely audible whimper of relief when his stomach finally settled. He turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on his face in a desperate attempt to clear his head. The water streamed down his cheeks, mixing with his hot tears and running down his neck and into his pajama shirt. Pil turned the water back off and stared at himself in the mirror.
In the near-darkness, lit only from the side by a weak nightlight in the hall, Pil thought that he looked like a ghost. The dark circles beneath his eyes seemed to swallow what little light that had managed to shine into the bathroom, and his sunken, damp cheeks reminded him of a corpse. Pil’s hair was tousled, tangled, and stuck out in different directions. His pajamas clung to his body, half because of his sweat and half because of the water he had failed to even try to wipe away.
He sniffled, feeling hollow and completely alone as he looked at his reflection. Pil wrapped his arms around himself, squeezing his own shoulders tightly to try to dispel the terrible feeling inside of him. He closed his eyes and sobbed, unable to muster the energy to walk back to his bed. He leaned against the wall beside the sink and slowly slid to the cold floor. Pil rested his head against the scratchy wallpaper and tried to forget what happened, but it was impossible.
It had just been a dream, a nightmare, but Hogae had left him. Hogae had abandoned him. Hogae had walked away with barely a backward glance. It was a dream, Pil repeated over and over as he rubbed his upper arms. It was just a dream. The Hogae of the waking world would never leave Pil behind. Hogae had been ready to die to prevent Dex from getting the microchip that contained data of all of Korea’s criminals, but he had given in when Dex threatened Pil’s life. Pil shuddered as he mentally went over that fact. Important information had almost been lost because of him, because he had been too helpless and weak. When Pil and Doha had gone to Dex’s hideout as Hogae’s backup to rescue Seol, it had been Pil’s mistake that had nearly fatally injured both himself and Doha.
Pil pressed his face against the wall as he thought about all the things he had done wrong during the case involving Dex. No one had ever blamed him for anything that had happened, but he would not be surprised if they did when they found out about his inadequacies. He was falling behind at work, taking twice as long as usual to sort paperwork and find information. His teammates would only put up with him for so long, and if he was fired, he knew that Hogae really would leave him. Pil stifled his cries by covering his mouth with his hands, hiccupping with the effort to stay quiet. Exhaustion soon overtook him and Pil fell asleep, half-slumped on the bathroom floor with only the hard wall as company.
The next morning was one of the worst mornings of Pil’s life. He woke up for the second time in the last eight hours, this time with a splitting headache and his entire body stiff from his few hours of sleep on the floor. Pil struggled to make himself look presentable, but his hair refused to lay completely flat. He did not have enough time to take a quick morning shower, and he ignored the slight rumbling of his stomach as he rushed out of his apartment’s door. He dropped his keys before he could unlock his car and drove to work in a nervous stupor as he checked and double-checked the traffic around him.
Pil let out a sigh of relief as he clocked in only a few minutes behind time and sat down at his desk. He massaged his tired eyes with his fingers, fighting back a yawn.
“Rough morning?” Anna asked sympathetically from her own desk.
Pil mumbled a tired response and eyed the Pile of loose papers and files on his desk. A green sticky note stood out on the top of the stack and caught his attention. He carefully peeled it off of the paper and read the familiar handwriting.
“Got a new phone,” Hogae’s messy scrawl read. His writing always looked like he had written his message while on the move. “Meet for lunch? Text me.”
Pil was caught between happy anticipation and chilling anxiety. He wanted to eat with Hogae, but he was unsure if he could face Hogae so soon after his dream last night. He could still remember the way Hogae in his dream had shaken his head and walked away. Pil had no excuse to tell Hogae in order to delay the lunch to a later date. He had no appetite again, and he did not want Hogae to watch him while he feigned interest through his meal. Pil took out his phone and swiped to Hogae’s contact. He stared at the small picture of Hogae smiling for a moment, then sent a quick text containing the time that he would take his lunch break.
Pil slid his phone back in his pocket and carefully stuck the sticky note onto one of the plastic containers on his desk. As he began to sort through the files, Pil found that his gaze kept returning to the little note. Thoughts of Hogae crowded his mind until there was no hope of him getting any work done again. Pil let out another defeated sigh and decided to once again accept his deserved fate of being scolded later.
Pil shuffled into the station's cafeteria while adjusting the strap on his bag. He hoped that his nervous habits were not as obvious to other people as they were to him. He looked around for Hogae and spotted him at his usual table. There was someone in deep conversation with Hogae, their back turned to Pil. The person’s white lab coat and dark hair made Pil freeze in his tracks. It had to be Dex. He had somehow broken free of Pil’s dreams and had found a way to turn Hogae against Pil. Pil stood at the cafeteria entrance, ignoring everything else happening around him as he stared in horror. His heart began to pound and his hands grew clammy on his bag.
As if he sensed Pil’s gaze on him, Hogae suddenly looked away from Dex and met Pil’s eyes. He gestured at Pil to approach, but Pil was unable to move. Pil did not even trust his legs to be able to run away to get help. The only other person in the cafeteria was not reacting, as if they were oblivious to the criminal in their midst. Dex turned around slowly and Pil felt an overwhelming mixture of deja vu, relief, and whiplash as he realized that he had been wrong. It was just Doha. The taller man jerked his head in Hogae’s direction. Pil forced his feet to move forward until he stood only a few steps away from them.
“Myeongpil-ah,” Hogae said as Pil approached. Hogae exchanged a look with Doha and the other man nodded.
“I’ll talk to you later, detectives,” Doha said firmly. Pil had interacted with Doha enough to know that when Doha spoke like that, there was no way to avoid the future talk. Doha’s gaze lingered on Pil’s face, and Pil resisted the urge to duck his head. Doha’s eyes seemed to lose their sharpness the longer he stared at Pil. “I’ll talk to you later,” he said in a slightly more gentle tone, and Pil could tell that it was directed only at him and not Hogae. Pil had no idea why Doha would want to talk to him unless it was for their respective jobs or because Doha had finally realized how Pil had nearly cost Doha his life at Dex’s hideout. Pil fought to keep himself from shivering at the thought as he sat down across from Hogae at the small table.
Hogae was giving him another complex look. Pil wondered if this was how the people that Hogae interrogated felt. He felt bare, as if he was laying exposed to the elements in a cold snowbank and Hogae was the sun that was both keeping him alive with his warmth but also burning him to a crisp. Pil swallowed hard as he thought about himself burning, about Dex burning, about Hogae burning. It was too late, however, to keep the panic from his face.
“Hey,” Hogae said softly. “Myeongpil-ah. What’s wrong?” He extended one of his large hands across the table in Pil’s direction, palm open and inviting.
Any other day Pil would have leaped at the chance to take Hogae’s hand and intertwine their fingers. But, at that moment in time, Pil felt like there was ice slowly creeping up out of the cafeteria floor and freezing him in place. He sucked in a shaky breath and tried to smile. “Nothing's wrong,” Pil said. “I missed my alarm and had a rough start, that's all.”
Hogae's face creased with what Pil recognized as worry instead of the anger that he was expecting. “Oh, Pil,” he said. Pil looked up, slightly startled at the sound of his own name. Not Detective Gongmyeong, not Myeongpil, not Maengpil. Hogae rarely called him just Pil unless it was for a very important reason. “Pil,” Hogae continued, “I don't think it was just your alarm. You haven't been sleeping well for a while, have you?”
Pil could not respond. His jaw moved, but no sound came out. He tried to clear his throat but only managed a wet-sounding cough. His eyes started to water against his will. Hogae had finally realized how much of a burden Pil was to him.
Hogae continued to extend his hand toward Pil as he spoke. “You’re my partner, Pil. Did you really think I wouldn't notice?”
A choked gasp finally worked its way out of Pil's throat. “I'm sorry,” he blurted. “I'm sorry, Hogae-hyung, Detective Jin; I swear I’ll do better. I know it was my fault that everyone almost died because of me. Please, I'm sorry,” Pil begged as his vision blurred from his tears. “Please don't abandon me.”
Hogae suddenly stood up from his chair and Pil knew that it was over. He had ruined his only chance to prove to Hogae that he was strong and capable enough to continue being Hogae's partner. Pil's body collapsed in on itself and he grabbed for his bag strap, the only thing he could seek for comfort. Due to his shuddering sobs, he did not notice the arms wrapping around him until it was too late.
“I'm sorry,“ Hogae said as he knelt beside Pil's chair and cradled him in his arms, “I'm so sorry, Pil. I should have noticed that you were hurting before now. None of what happened was your fault, and no one blames you for any of it.” He carefully cupped the back of Pil's neck and drew him closer to the crook of his own neck, as if Pil was a piece of glass that could break just from looking at it. “I'm not going to leave you, ever.”
Pil already felt like he had broken into a million pieces. He was as stiff as a board in Hogae's arms, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to breathe. His hands stayed glued to his bag, knuckles turning white from how tightly he was gripping it. Pil let out an involuntary whine as Hogae slowly rubbed his back.
“I'm not good with this type of stuff,” Hogae admitted. “I wasn't sure if I was assuming too much. But the other day, when you were talking to Doha, he said that you looked scared when you first looked at him. And you were scared when you only saw him from behind while he was talking to me today. Is it because he looked like... ” Hogae trailed off, unsure of how to voice the question.
Pil could barely see Hogae through his tears. He managed to make himself nod, the words still too painful for him to say. His wet cheeks brushed against Hogae's warm neck.
“I'm not going to leave you,” Hogae repeated. “You shouldn't feel ashamed to feel like this; I'm not ashamed of you. Pil, I care for you so much, but I can't give you the help that you need and deserve. I think that you have PTSD. Doha was telling me about some of the symptoms; that's why he wants to talk to you. He wants to help you too. I'll talk to him with you, if you want. But we all want to help you get the support you need.” Hogae squeezed Pil tighter as he spoke.
“H-Hogae-hyung…” Pil whimpered. He was choked by his own sobs, body shaking as he slowly relaxed into Hogae's touch. His shoulders trembled from the force of his crying. Hogae soothed him wordlessly. Pil’s fingers finally unwound themselves from his bag and clutched desperately to the front of Hogae's shirt. Pil sucked in a shaky breath, fighting for air long enough to whisper Hogae's name once more.
Hogae eventually began to loosen his embrace. He slowly started to withdraw from Pil, and Pil felt the bubbling anxiety spring back to life in his stomach. “No,” Pil babbled, “D-don't leave me.”
“Pil.” Hogae's voice was gentle but firm. “I'm not going to leave you. Nothing that you do is going to make me leave you.” He leaned his head against Pil's, ignoring the mess of tears that covered Pil's face. “I’m going to be by your side through all of this. You’re stronger than you think.” Hogae rose to his feet with a grunt, his arms still loosely clasped around Pil. He leaned over and dabbed gently at Pil’s cheeks with his sleeve. “Do you wanna eat some lunch? I’ll buy; I’m starving.”
Pil nodded weakly and sniffled. “Thank you,” he murmured. His mind and chest were a whirling tornado of emotions that he could not begin to formulate into a proper sentence. “I’m sorry for causing so much trouble.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Hogae said. “There’s nothing you have to be sorry about.“ He extended his hand again in Pil’s direction, slow and deliberate. Pil hesitantly reached for it, watching in nervous silence as his small hand slipped perfectly into Hogae’s large palm. Hogae curled his fingers inward, gently interlacing their fingers together.
Hogae helped Pil get to his feet and wrapped one arm around his shoulders in a half-hug. “I love you no matter what, y’know?” The taller detective said as he looked down at Pil.
The corners of Pil’s mouth twitched upward and his face slowly brightened with a smile. “I love you too,” he said. Pil reached for Hogae’s hand again, already missing the feeling of their hands joined together. Hogae’s face split into a hopeful smile above him, and while Pil knew that the journey ahead of him would be a long and difficult one, he knew that he could depend on his partner.