Work Text:
He didn’t know how much time had passed since lights out.
Jung-Bae had woken up some time ago, sinking next to him to keep watch. He was grateful they'd talked - he missed him. He'd practically had to shove him back to bed once they’d finished, Jung-Bae had barely managed a single sentence without yawning, and even in the dim light Gi-Hun could see he was barely keeping his eyes open. Jung-Bae was nearly as stubborn as him but he’d won out in the end.
It had always been his intention to keep watch through the night, he didn’t need to wake anyone else. They needed their rest more than he did. Besides, he’s not sure he could sleep right now if he tried, he didn’t want to see whatever nightmare his mind decided to punish him with tonight.
Rationally, he knew there was a low chance of anything happening. It was still too early in the games, most of the players hadn’t been pushed to senseless violence.
Yet.
It was that thought that kept him there. The chance. However small it was, he wouldn’t risk it - not when it wasn’t only his life on the line. He’d seen the violence firsthand in his first games, he knew better than most what people were capable of here. He wouldn’t let any of them become just another casualty here, another needless death marketed as entertainment. He couldn’t lose another friend to this place.
Jung-Bae, Dae-Ho, Jun-Hee - they were all counting on him.
Young-Il was counting on him.
He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep this up every night. If he wanted to keep them safe, he needed his own rest too. But right now, he could do this, he could give them one night uninterrupted. He could carry the burden a little longer.
For them.
He’d been too distracted by his own thoughts to notice it immediately, the bright flash of movement catching in his eyes far too late for his liking.
He glanced around the room slowly, trying to make out the space in the dim light. The beds that remained after the first game were still full - not a player then. Maybe a guard? No, they never came in here after lights out, not outside of the 'special game' at least.
...Then why was he seeing a pink suit?
No one was fighting. Nothing was amiss.
Why are they here?
He watched with wary eyes as a single masked soldier made their way across the room, stepping right past the sleeping O’s and up to the X side.
To him.
Gi-hun tensed, rising from where he'd taken a seat on the steps of the bunks. He could see something in their hands but it was far too dark to make out what it was.
His hand twitched at his side, fingers tensing around nothing. Was it a gun? Had the higher ups decided he wasn’t amusing any longer?
With every step closer the object in their hands became a little clearer. No, it was too small to be a gun. A taser then? A knife?
...No.
They were close enough now that he could see what was in their hands despite the dim lighting. That painfully familiar black box both a relief and a wound. At least it meant they hadn’t come to kill him, the box in their hands may have looked just like it’s original but it wasn’t nearly large enough to hold a body.
Eventually the soldier reached him, stopping just a step below him. They didn’t speak, the mask they wore betraying nothing. They lifted a hand to hold out the box to him, keeping quiet as they waited for him to take it.
Gi-Hun only blinked, standing frozen for a moment before he slowly shook his head.
What possible reason could he have for taking that? Everything on this island was a death sentence written in pastel ink. Why would this be any different?
The guard let out what he could only guess was a sigh, the distorted noise cutting through the quiet of the room.
They both stood quiet after that, the silence sitting heavy between them. The tension was nearly palpable, confusing and curious all at once.
The soldier made another noise of disapproval, giving up on their one sided staring match by nudging the box in his direction again. “It’s a gift, 456. I hear congratulations are in order, late as they are.”
Their voice was quiet as they spoke - wary of the sleeping players around them - but no less confusing.
…Congratulations?
Gi-Hun didn’t have time to form the question out loud before the box was abruptly thrust against his chest, his hands reaching up to grab it on instinct before the gloved hands pulled away. By the time the shock wore off, the soldier was already halfway across the room - nearing the door to leave.
He could only watch in stunned silence as they slipped back through the door they’d come from, a thousand questions running through his mind with no one to ask.
He turned to glance down at the box in his hand. He knew he probably shouldn’t open it, nothing wrapped in a bow ever meant anything good in this place, but he was alone now and his curiosity had led him worse places.
What’s the worst that could happen?
He took a seat before he opened it. Glancing around again to make sure no one around him had woken up after his impromptu visitor had left. Finding nothing but quiet snores and closed eyes, he turned back to the box in his hands. He untied the bow slowly, half afraid something would jump out at him, before he slid off the lid. His breath caught in his chest when he finally moved it away.
Okay.
He was wrong.
This was the worst that could happen.
He didn’t know what he had expected to see - he didn’t even know what had warranted this 'gift', let alone what he'd find inside of it.
The all too familiar pair of wireframe glasses he found when he’d lifted the lid however? That had been the last thing he thought he’d find.
He pulled his hands back instantly, dropping the box like it burned him. The box and its contents fell to the floor in front of him, clattering down onto concrete. The noise was merely a thud in the quiet room, but it made his ears ring.
What kind of sick joke was this? Gi-Hun knew who these glasses had belonged to. His face had haunted him ever since he’d left this place. Why would they give him this?
...No, why would he give him this?
His gaze flicked to a thin piece of paper on the floor, it must’ve been in the box before it fell.
He ignored the way his hands trembled when he picked it up.
Thought you might want this.
To another year 456.
…What?
Even in his head it hardly sounded like a question anymore, just complete disbelief. He turned the paper over in his hands, finding nothing more than shapes embossed on the back - a circle, triangle, and square.
Another year? Congratulations? There was no way his returning to the games mattered this much, he didn’t understand why-
…Oh.
Circle. Triangle. Square. The same symbols that had been on the card he’d pulled from the Salesman’s body. The same card that brought him back here again.
October 31st Club HDH
He’d been so caught up in everything that happened he hadn’t even noticed it was his birthday - or was anyway. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d celebrated it, let alone acknowledged it.
…Why do this? Why now? He put the note aside, steeling himself before picking up the glasses again.
Why would he keep these? After all these years, of all the things...
He let out a shaky breath, memories he’d tried so desperately to push down forcing their way to the forefront of his mind.
His memories of him felt… cold. Like the rain that day had soaked through to his very bones - an unrelenting chill that never seemed to leave him. He wondered if he would’ve followed in his footsteps. If Gi-Hun had been the one to die, what would he have done?
A chuckle escaped him at that, it was hollow, full of grief he refused to let himself feel.
It was a ridiculous thought - followed in his footsteps? It nearly made him laugh. No, him? The pride of Ssangmun-dong? He would’ve been so much more then this place. He would've been so much more than Gi-Hun could ever hope to be.
He hadn’t noticed the tears welling in his eyes until they’d spilled over, falling quietly onto the glass.
It hurt, of course it did, but he isn't as saddened as he thinks he should be. No, he's almost...
Grateful.
He knew who’d really been the one to give him this - the soldier had merely been a messenger. The sender was the reason he was gone in the first place.
He knows he should be angry, outraged at the audacity alone. Hell, he should march right up to that door and demand an answer from him.
Except... this was all he had left of him. The only thing he had to hold onto that wasn’t taken by these walls, that was given back despite the years that had passed. The only thing that hadn’t been tainted by blood-stains and betrayal, instead a memory of a time he'd long since forgot.
Gi-Hun didn’t understand why he’d given this to him, but right now, it didn’t matter. He could be angry later. He just wanted to hold this for a while. Let himself remember a different time - a simpler one.
He could let himself have this.
It was his birthday after all.
“Are you alright?” The sudden voice next to him made him jump. He swung his head around so fast it nearly gave him whiplash. He’d gotten so caught up in his own head he hadn’t even noticed the presence settle down beside him.
It was Young-Il. He was sat beside him now, those growingly familiar eyes looking back up at him with concern. Gi-Hun watched his gaze flicker across his face before landing at the glasses in his hand, something unreadable passing in his eyes.
“Yeah, I’m... I'm alright.” He slid the glasses back inside the box, trying to sound more convincing than he felt. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?” He thought he’d been quiet but admittedly he'd been, um, distracted.
Young-Il only shook his head then, pulling his eyes back up from where they'd caught on Gi-Hun's hands.
Gi-Hun barely had time to tense before Young-Il raised a hand to his face, gently wiping away tears he’d forgotten were there.
“Are you sure?” His voice was soft as he spoke, his eyes never leaving Gi-Hun's. For a second he forgot how to breathe, the look in his eyes was nearly overwhelming.
He gave him a light nod after a moment, trying to shake off the unfamiliar flutter in his chest. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
Even after Young-Il's hand fell away he couldn’t bring himself to look away from him. The man looked softer now, the faint golden glow in the room mellowing out his features. He looked kinder, gentle even, that cold mask he always seemed to wear discarded - something real taking its place. Something Gi-Hun didn’t want to look away from.
He watched as Young-Il's gaze shifted, a silent question in his eyes as he looked back down to the box his hands.
Gi-Hun let out a quiet sigh. He didn’t know how to explain this, he didn't even know where to start.
“It’s… a long story.” His lips thinned as he turned his head away, hoping Young-Il wouldn’t ask a question he wasn’t sure he knew the answer to. A quiet hum was all he got in response, silent acknowledgment he was thankful for.
They let the silence settle over them after that. It wasn't awkward or tense, it was the kind of quiet that didn't beg to be filled. It was comforting.
He’s not sure when it happened, when he felt too tired to keep his head up. When he let the heavy weight of exhaustion close his eyes, sinking his head back onto the steel beam behind him.
He’d expected to feel the cold metal of a bunk, the hard press of steel against his skull. Instead, he felt something warm press against him, a gentle pull, until his head rested on something soft.
He didn’t question it, just let the warmth at his side seep into him as he settled into sleep.
He didn’t feel so cold anymore, and for the first time in a long time - his dreams were just dreams. Not a memory. Not a nightmare.
It was strange, new and old all at once, like a feeling he hadn’t realized he was missing.
It felt kind, gentle.
Warm.