Work Text:
The peach-coloured platform beneath Jun-ho made a few mechanical gurgles for each player that hopped onto it.
Mingle. His throat began to close up as the word echoed throughout the circus-like building.
He vengefully glanced at his older brother who lacked any sort of expression on his face. He knew In-ho was used to the scrambling of humans as if they were mere ants; he was the frontman for crying out loud. Jun-ho just hoped to see some small indication that he still had a sense of humanity left in him. Or at least the ability to fear.
“We got this. We can do it with us six,” Gi-hun politely held his hand out face down towards Jun-ho, In-ho and the other three who acted like lost children entranced by the arena. Jun-ho lightly placed his hand on top of Gi-hun’s before his brother replicated him and smiled flatly,
“I agree with you.”
I agree with you. Jun-ho doubted there was any truth in that statement.
The gentleness of In-ho’s (or should he say Young-il’s) fingertips were clearly a facade only he could acknowledge. Gi-hun was too quick to trust people, not realising a knife was blatantly pointed towards his neck. He had no suspicions that this ‘Young-il’ secretly had years’ worth of innocent’s blood trickling down his hands.
The other three, who positioned their hands on top of In-ho’s, were just oblivious pawns. Their knowledge of the games was far too shallow for them to sense any betrayal.
Jun-ho looked around at the conflicted group in front of him and exclaimed, “Ready? On three, 1, 2…”
Their arms sprung into the sky before the carousel jolted and then spun in a clockwise direction.
What if he had just told Gi-hun the frontman’s true identity?
The question wrapped around his head as the nursery rhyme eerily played in the background. He caught a glimpse of Jun-hee softly caressing her stomach as Dae-ho clung onto her and Jung-bae. Maybe if he had told Gi-hun the truth, those three could’ve found some sort of salvation.
Though as he watched In-ho stand vacantly beside him, he wondered what sort of trouble he’d endure when the monstrous truth came to light. He frowned while doing so. To an extent, he still loved his brother. He just couldn’t bear the man he was now.
10! A young feminine voice reverberated across the room as the carousel came to a sudden stop. Bodies pushed one another around as they wailed and screamed in terror.
“We’ve got 6! We need 4 more,” In-ho yelled, his arms waved around irrationally as he gestured for others to come.
“Is that just an act too?”
Jun-ho couldn’t find the courage to say that to him, nay, he couldn’t find the courage to out him to everyone. It’s weird how love always managed to find ways to defend monsters.
A familiar group of four quickly approached the six of them. They all dashed into a green room abandoning the insanity.
Jun-ho, out of breath, leaned his head against the door after locking it. He then turned around and counted the distraught players surrounding him.
“Oh, Jun-ho, we meet again!” An elderly lady proclaimed. Jun-ho couldn’t quite remember her name as the chaos earlier distracted him beyond measure. Her grin mimicking sunshine was a subtle sign she was someone he could trust.
“Yeah, I’m glad you’re safe,” Jun-ho huffed, “Thanks for choosing me to join your group during the last game.”
The lady humbly cackled, “It’s completely fine, it would either be you or that crazy—“
Interrupting the lady, a cluster of quick bangs erupted from beyond the door after a young woman shrieked. Jun-ho urgently peered through the small window noticing that the awkward silence after the initial pleading seemed much more deafening.
Outside, lifeless bodies were everywhere. Their struggles now forgotten as they drowned in their own blood. Even after having experience with these things as a police officer, Jun-ho felt a lump in his throat.
“Jun-ho, it’s okay, let me look,” Gi-hun pushed him off to the side to salvage the younger man’s innocence. He sighed before harshly turning towards In-ho, who, unsurprisingly, was unfazed.
He bit his lip and crossed his arms in vain attempts of insulting his older brother standing in front of him. Just for a second it looked as if In-ho’s eyes reflected a minuscule ounce of sorrow. He shrugged it off after the guards ordered players to leave their rooms.
Fiddling with the zipper on his jumpsuit, Jun-ho planted his feet back on the carousel’s platform as the others trailed closely behind him.
“The next one won’t be as easy as the last, all of us should stick together,” In-ho reassured the two groups.
The elderly woman kindly patted Jun-hee’s shoulder, “Are you alright? Don’t stress too much lovely.”
Though her words were meant to sooth, it was impossible to stay calm when dark red liquid stained the floor beneath them. The carousel started once again. It was all too much. His hands knew nothing other than the texture of sweat and blood. Lying for his brother was getting nowhere.
4!
Jun-ho froze for a moment, swearing under his breath. The lady and her son gripped onto one another like there was no tomorrow—well, potentially there would’ve not been, but he knew it was better to think positive. The groups shout at one other quickly turned into a blurry murmur he found excruciating to listen to.
“Jun-ho! Go with them!” Gi-hun roared through the stampede, being the only thing Jun-ho properly heard.
In-ho hastily grabbed Jun-ho’s arm and dragged him to safety before he could answer Gi-hun’s pleas. The door rattled behind him as he slid against the floor.
“Are you guys okay?” In-ho questioned and lended a hand to the boy groaning on the floor. Jun-ho glared at it for a few seconds before he decided to push himself up with his palms, occasionally stumbling. In-ho gained a few puzzled looks from Dae-ho and Jun-hee when he awkwardly tucked his hand away.
“You can stop pretending you actually care,” Jun-ho seethed, “I stopped caring about you when you—“
Shot me off the cliff. He scrunched his mouth to prevent himself from ending the sentence. In-ho knew what he was going to say, the sudden tense in his shoulders and brows said so.
When the frontman took his mask off, Jun-ho felt his heart shatter into a million pieces.
His stomach dropped when he saw the face of a man he looked up to under a disguise he thought only the devil could create. The sweat that trickled down his cheek concealed his tears. He wanted to vomit.
In-ho shyly lent Jun-ho a hand, “Come with me.”
Why would he trust a hand that slaughtered millions of innocent people? Jun-ho slowly shook his head as his fingers grasped onto the trigger of his empty revolver—hoping miraculously there was still one more bullet left.
If there was, he didn’t know if he would’ve had the guts to shoot his brother again. He would’ve shot himself instead. Deep down, Jun-ho knew he started all this.
His mouth trembled remembering the nights In-ho slept by his hospital bed. Jun-ho was always awake squirming around unable to sleep. He listened to In-ho’s soft snores to distract himself from his will to enter an eternal slumber. He desired to, at that point the pain deteriorated every part of his body.
One time he woke up and rolled his head to the right, squinting at the older figure who jumped from his slouched position.
“You’re awake,” The man, whom he realised was his In-ho, sighed with relief. Jun-ho could tell from the dark circles under his eyes he hadn’t gotten any sleep.
He grimaced at the medical supplies stuck to his body before softly chuckling, “Yeah, somehow.”
There wasn’t anything more to be said. The two of them sat in the presence of one another and to Jun-ho, that was enough.
He took a wobbly step back, using the last of his energy to stay balanced after his heel rolled against the gravel. Those memories were long gone and it was all his fault. In-ho would’ve lived a better life if he hadn’t given Jun-ho his kidney. Jun-ho created this unrecognisable monster that raised its gun in his direction. The bullet was going to kill him as punishment.
“Hyung,” Jun-ho mumbled. He wanted to scream or bawl into his older brother’s shoulder like he did as a kid. Unfortunately, they grew up.
“Why?”
The room grew tense; the only noise heard being a small gasp Dae-ho let aloud.
“Are you serious?” In-ho rebutted, tilting his head, “Jun-ho, you don’t understand. I tried to help you, I really did. But guess what? I couldn’t.”
Jun-ho, muttering from In-ho’s response, covered his face with his palm, “You didn’t have to. I just wanted you home.”
The noises from outside shook the room, preventing the four from suffering through another excruciating silence. Jun-hee and Dae-ho took a few sly steps backwards while having quick concerned glances at each other.
“Jun-ho, you know what happened. I can’t anymore.”
In-ho grit his teeth and took a deep breath. He unlocked the door as soon as the guards started releasing players. The other two rushed outside whispering worriedly to one another. Jun-ho noticed their furrowed brows but did nothing to stop their accusations.
The two brothers stood parallel to each other in silence for a few seconds. In-ho’s eyes acted as a glimpse into the past Jun-ho yearned to be.
“So many people have died here,” Jun-ho solemnly broke the peace. He shoved past In-ho and marched through the door, “I’ve lied enough and now it all comes back to you. The blood will be on your hands though I doubt you’ll notice. Just new shades of red to your bloody artwork.”
In-ho felt a twinge in his heart meant to be void of all emotion. As the frontman, he knew the games were messed up. He was too far gone.
The VIPs were bloodthirsty and constantly complained about a disruption in the schedule. They demanded cruelty to be served to them on a platter and prayed for miserliness if it meant having entertainment.
He gradually found the strength to follow Jun-ho’s footsteps back to the carousel so he could leave his thoughts behind. The platform pivoted once again as he identified the players around him.
6!
When the lights switched off, In-ho refused to gag at the sounds of anguish nor did he at the sight of death. His stomach enjoyed the absurdity of it all and feasted on the discomposure of the other 5 stuck in the room with him. He was used to it being the frontman.
He just wasn’t used to that disfigured pale look on the face of the one he loves. He noticed it whilst walking out of the rooms, choking from its unfamiliarity.
“She’s dead,” Jun-ho muttered with cold-eyes, “We all watched Young-mi die.”
Death. The word never held any weight to In-ho after his wife had experienced it firsthand and he won the 28th Squid Games, though hearing it uttered from his younger brother was intimidating. His stomach churned knowing he really was the one who killed her.
The atmosphere darkened for the stakes grew higher without Player 095. Once again, they waited for the carousel to halt. In-ho analysed everyone’s fatigue and obvious paranoia. This was a twisted flashback to the games he took part in himself.
“Young-il, what number do you think it’ll be?” Jung-bae breathed. The others also looked to him hoping for a proper answer.
“It’ll be two,” In-ho responded, his head to the floor, “There’s 100 of us and 50 rooms. Half of us is out.”
Gi-hun fearfully brushed his mouth and Jung-bae stood frozen like a statue. This number didn’t bug In-ho. He designed the game; of course he’d know. He only gulped at the thought of losing Jun-ho.
In-ho kept a close eye on him with his arm propped up near his, prepping to snatch him when the time was right. Jun-ho spotted him doing so but didn’t bother being defiant. No one else would choose him.
The world twirled around them as the arena’s radiant colours danced into a bright white light. Round and round as we dance along… the lyrics flourished in their ears. It was now or never.
Everything stopped.
2! The feminine voice said cheerfully.
The two of them hollered at one another, their throats quickly growing numb. In-ho gripped Jun-ho’s wrist and yanked him off the platform. Jun-ho’s legs could barely keep up, trembling at each step In-ho took. Everything was a blur—the cries, the struggle of players, the man he loved running in front of him.
He could only feel home clinging onto him for the first time in years, refusing to let go.
Yet from all the discourse in the arena, he felt In-ho’s fingers depart from him as they collided into passersby.
“Hyung!“ Jun-ho gasped as something, no, someone, slammed into his chest. He scrambled onto the floor searching for air as blood poured out of his mouth.
He looked up after laying down and noticed the distorted red and white stripes that pointed towards the sky. It reminded him of the games they used to play when they were younger.
“Hyung! This is so unfair,” Jun-ho placed his palms on his knees, panting as sweat dripped from his head, “You’re so much more older than me.”
In-ho sluggishly turned his head to the 10-year-old boy complaining behind him, “You said you didn’t want to be treated like a little kid so I’m doing exactly that. First one home wins!”
Skidding on some gravel, he dashed away, leaving the whining child behind. When he believed to have gotten far enough, he looked back, noticing that Jun-ho hadn’t caught up. He raced back to the street corner only to find his brother sobbing as he pressed against a wound on his elbow.
“Sh—I mean, crap,” In-ho prevented himself from tainting the boy with his language, grabbing him by the waist and placing him on his shoulders, “This is what I get for leaving you.”
Jun-ho giggled and punched In-ho’s head.
“It’s decided,” He grinned as he took a few wobbly steps forward when clenching his brother’s arms, “You’re the winner, Jun-ho.”
Two of them laughed until their lungs ached. When they had arrived home, In-ho wrapped a bandage on Jun-ho’s elbow..
“In-ho?” He spoke, wincing as the bandage tightened, “Why’d you come back? You would’ve won.”
In-ho chuckled as he placed a clip on the bandage to prevent it from slipping off, “There’d be no point in winning if I lost the one I loved.”
He pulled away from Jun-ho’s arm as the little boy pouted, “Really?”
“Yeah, really.”
In-ho realised his little brother’s wrist was missing from within his hand. He urgently looked back and examined where he’d let go. He frantically pushed through the masses while he called out Jun-ho’s name.
He found his brother clutching onto his chest as he crouched. In-ho fell onto him before tugging on the boy’s flimsy arms.
“Get up!” In-ho screamed. Jun-ho saw his struggle and tried to pull away from him, hitching as In-ho’s hands clawed into him.
“In-ho, I can’t… get up,” Jun-ho whispered him, his voice raspy, “I’m wasting your time, go find someone else.”
In-ho glanced at Dae-ho who stood blankly on the platform before looking back at Jun-ho’s weary face.
“I’m not leaving you,” In-ho pulled the collar of Jun-ho’s shirt towards him.
He was the last thing he loved and the one thing that kept him sane. He couldn’t imagine a reality without Jun-ho there by his side. When he shot Jun-ho 3 years ago, In-ho peered over the cliff praying he still had his vitality and ordered one of his workers to save him.
In-ho thought the scar on Jun-ho’s shoulder would’ve been enough to scare him from ever coming back. Though stupidly enough, he did.
There were 10 seconds left—less if you considered the loss of rooms.
“You’re not dying,” In-ho yelled, towing Jun-ho towards Dae-ho who took Jun-ho into his hands, “Take him. I’ll go.”
“There won’t be enough time—“
“I said I’ll go!” In-ho growled and shoved Dae-ho and his little brother closer to the doors. He took a few hesitant steps back as Dae-ho dragged Jun-ho away. In-ho felt his eyes grow heavy as he watched his brother shriek and reach his hands out towards him.
“Don’t leave me again!” Jun-ho cried while thrashing Dae-ho’s back. In-ho mouthed a small ‘I’m sorry,’ before turning away holding back tears.
It was better off this way.
“Player 001, eliminated.”
Jun-ho heard those words but refused to believe them. He banged against the door, searching for In-ho through the small window praying he’d faked his death.
Why? Why did he have to leave him again?
In-ho was back in his dull black uniform sitting on his couch staring at a TV screen. He grunted as he watched his brother collapse onto the ground after he’d lost all hope.
He turned off the TV and walked through his dimly lit hallways to enter the room covered with screens. The guards closed in on him, patiently waiting for his instructions. The decision he was about to make was risky, but necessary for the safety of his brother.
“End the games,” In-ho ordered with a stern tone, “Eradicate all of it.”