Work Text:
When Su-bong had woken up in a room among hundreds of people, his own clothing having changed without his knowledge, the first thing he did was check his stash. He felt a slight relief just discovering that he was still wearing his necklace, but was almost shocked when the contents of his pendant turned out to be untouched.
Still, he thought he'd behave. He'd been entered into a game to win an insane cash prize with a ton of people, and it sounded like a good enough time on its own. He didn't feel the urge to lean on his crutch. The first game is easy, too.
When blood splashes up across his face, when he can't stop his eyes from flicking to her body, when he can't afford to react even slightly because he'll be killed next if he so much as budges, he realizes he needs it. He needs it now. People scream and flee around him, the room getting morbidly quieter as they drop methodically, and he is perfectly still other than a slight tremor. He can't do this. He's afraid for his life and he needs it now.
Everyone else is scared, too. When the announcer reiterates the rules from the overhead speakers and the doll turns back around and starts singing again, nobody dares to move a muscle. Nobody but Su-bong, who reaches for his lifeline. It takes him two turns, inching towards relief. After this, it won't matter how many people die around him. In fact, it doesn't matter how many die. When the bubbling energy inside him threatens to boil over while the doll is watching them, he proves it to himself.
All it takes is a shove, and the people lined up in front of him are killed for it-- yet he lives, and he is ecstatic. The energy from the fear that had his limbs shaking is converted into glee, almost impossible to restrain. He jumps and shouts and sprints during each turn to get it out, exhilerated.
And he lives. He wins, because it's just a kid's game in the end, and it's just as easy as when the stakes are low so long as you're oblivious to the intended pressure.
(Sleeping after the game is impossible. He keeps hearing someone whispering his name, but every time he gets up to check, nobody is there. He's too energized to fall asleep, especially while his ears keep playing tricks on him. He may have nodded off for an hour or so by the time the overhead speakers wake everyone up.)
One of his new friends, the one who's been hanging off of him the most, craves that type of easy assurance. Maybe not so new; he's talking like they go way back. Does Su-bong know him? Nam-something, right? At the mention of a club, he does seem to recall seeing this man in dim, colored lighting, music thumping around them.
There probably aren't more than five games or so, anyway. He has plenty of tablets, so he shares, because he's nice like that. He's about to be rich soon, so why be stingy? If Nam-su thinks he can handle it, what's the harm?
He isn't thinking much of consequences anyway. Nam-su doesn't seem affected in quite the same way, threatening and throttling their adorable new friend Min-su when he makes a mistake at gonggi. Su-bong starts chanting Min-su's name to cheer him on, Gyeong-su joining in with a laugh as he lets his tension go, and his boy Min-su crushes his next attempt, shaky hands aside. The rest is smooth sailing, and Su-bong doesn't glance at the timer even once.
After dinner, Nam-su has trouble getting along with Su-bong's cute new friends, and it's just as his high is starting to die down. He mediates a bit and tries to hang onto his mood so he doesn't lose sleep to another tablet. He'll just take one in the morning.
(His dreams are wrought with unpleasant memories, though with miraculously little blood. He breathes in the way time dragged on during his last live show, exaggerated by the dream and permeating every sense. The music seemed to fade out until he could only hear his own panting in his ears, his damaged head emptying itself of his lyrics and leaving him too stunned to improvise for the longest moment of his life.)
Nam-su crawls into Su-bong's bed in the morning to beg for another tablet. The day flies by, blurrier than usual. He's lightheaded even when he isn't on the spinning platform, and he thinks Gyeong-su died somehow. Wait, what about Min-su?! Wasn't Min-su just with him?!
The relief when he finds him again could just kill him. Not his cute Min-su! He almost lost him! He survived anyway, though-- that's his boy.
He's still Su-bong's boy even when he messes up. Maybe he accidentally hit the wrong button, or someone made him do it, but Su-bong can't help feeling betrayed. He just wants to talk it out and make things right, just wants his boy to understand him and why he's angry.
Then that son of a bitch that put him here to begin with thinks he can step up to Su-bong, thinks he can just interrupt a private affair like this. He's brave enough to fight back when Su-bong threatens him, but that freak martial artist isn't here to save him this time. When Su-bong has his hands around MG Coin's neck, he's still riding his high. The warm contact feels nice on his hands, feels righteous, and he knows nothing could make him let go. He knows nothing could hurt him.
Until it does. He feels cold and wet first, wrong, and the pain comes after. And he feels angry, and he feels desperate, and he feels afraid, and the drugs didn't help him escape that after all. It's all he can think about as he feels his life slip away, growing frighteningly more sober by the second in his final moments. It didn't save him anyway.