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The rain clung to his skin and clothes like acid.
“You killed them.” He cried out, “You killed everyone!”
This place was where hundreds of people had died.
It was almost poetic, for the games to start somewhere and end in that same exact place.
The man below him grunted.
He didn't even realize he had been punching Sangwoo and clutching his shirt to gain more power.
It hurt. The stinging still lingered from the stab on his thigh, and the knife protruding out of his hand didn't feel any better.
46.5 billion won.
Gi-hun eventually unsteadily rose up, looking down at the other man below him.
He grabbed the black handle of the sharp instrument and yanked it out, blood splattering all over his suit.
463 people died.
He groaned and looked up at his hand with a gaping hole in it.
All because of you.
He lunged for him.
As much as he wanted to, he couldn't. He could lunge for him as much as he wanted, but it didn't matter. The knife would never make its way to his face.
Maybe he was just a coward, or maybe he was just human, but he couldn’t, as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t kill him.
The knife landed beside his head by less than an inch.
He felt sick to his stomach. Even after all Sangwoo had done, it was impossible. Even after the amount of people he had murdered, Gi-hun couldn't do it to one person? One person who was evil, and coldhearted?
They stared at each other for what seemed like hours, even though it was only a few seconds. The only noise that could be heard was Gi-hun and Sangwoo’s heavy breathing, and the rainfall in the back that was just as burdensome.
Of course he couldn't do it. It was Sangwoo.
It would have been different if he was a stranger. A cruel and evil stranger who had killed so many people, and still somehow managed to make it to the final game.
Maybe then, the knife would have been able to land inside of his neck, killing the man before him for good.
But this man wasn't a stranger.
The only logical thing to do was to get up and go for the head of the squid. Sangwoo was already down, and if Gi-hun wouldn't kill him then the guard would. It was the rule of the game, and so there would be a better person to hate for all of this. The guards. The game.
Yeah, that makes sense.
They hide behind a mask, and shoot hundreds of people with no mercy. They all are sick and evil and…
Wouldn't that make you just as depraved?
His feet stopped right before the white line.
Walking up to the head of the squid, knowing that your childhood best friend was going to be shot once you stepped inside of it?
“I'm done.”
He turned around.
“I quit.”
It didn't make sense. Why would he give up so much money, money that hundreds of people died for just to save one person's life?
It’s Sangwoo.
“Clause three of the agreement.” Gi-hun limped forward to the pink silhouette. “The games may be terminated upon a majority vote.”
It would make him the hero, would it not?
“If we both give up, the game ends here.” He wheezed. Everything hurts.
The guard lowered his pistol to his side, and pulled out a radio. They said something in English that Gi-hun could decipher but assumed they were informing whoever ruled this place that he had quit.
“Sangwoo.”
“When we were kids, we would play just like this, and our moms would call us in for dinner. But no one calls us anymore.” Sangwoo sighed. It sounded too much like an apology.
“Let's go.” Gi-hun managed to choke out. “Let’s go home.”
He stretched out his uninjured arm, a beacon of hope, of something new. They could go home. They could forget all of this happened and go back to living their own lives.
Please, please come home with me.
Sangwoos bloodied hand floated up to his own, like he wanted to accept it.
Gi-hun had always been naive. Too hopeful. Too kind.
He let himself hope, for just a moment, that they could leave and start a new life. Sangwoo had to accept, he had to, there was no other way.
“Gi-hun.”
Please.
“I’m sorry.”
Gi-hun watched in horror as Sangwoo wrenched the knife beside him out of the dirt like he had rehearsed it, and stuck it just as effortlessly into his very own neck.
It wasn't supposed to end like this.
Gi-hun gasped and bent down, desperately trying to cling onto that hope. Maybe he could nurse the wound, stop the bleeding and they could survive.
His hands scrambled to the knife sticking out of Sangwoo’s neck.
He tried to be a hero, he tried to start over, but at this moment, he truly didn't know what to do.
“Sangwoo!” Was the only thing that his mind could think of saying. “Sangwoo!” He cried out again, desperately searching for him.
He killed them.
“Hyung.” he murmured. “My mom.”
He killed them all.
“No…no Sangwoo, don't talk.” He pleaded.
Everyone.
“My mom…” He said, even quieter now.
Sangwoo’s eyelids fluttered closed, and Gi-hun had seen too many people die in this very place to assume otherwise.
He was gone.
Everything was white, whether it was from the pain, or the grief, he didn't know.
They could have had something.
He sobbed, while placing his hand on his friend's chest, trying to salvage him, trying to feel him for the last time.
He killed everyone.
-
The edge of the river was a beautiful sight to behold.
It was summertime, and there were an array of swans and ducks floating down the stream. The grass was greener than ever, and the sun slightly peaked out through the mess of buildings.
If he were anyone else, he probably would have smiled.
The glass bottle of soju in his hand was cold against his palm.
It reminded him too much of Sangwoo.
They would drink these exact bottles that they stole from Sangwoo’s dad when they were teenagers. Well, the word they was a bit of an exaggeration.
Sangwoo would scold him, telling him that he should focus on his studies and not focus on stealing cheap soju. He never stopped him though.
In fact, sometimes he would help Gi-hun. It made sense, since he didn't really like his dad, and Gi-hun was his friend.
Gi-hun looked out into the lake again before taking another swig of soju. The alcohol was sticky on the inside of his throat, and burned like a fire.
It was always worth it however, because starting a small fire to put out a large one, even for a few hours, was what was keeping him going.
At first, he didn't understand why Sangwoo had done it.
He felt the warm blood of the man against his hands. He took another swig.
Why had he killed so many people?
It didn't make sense in his eyes. Maybe he was just a moral god of some sort, but why did he kill that man on the glass bridge, that girl, himself.
Gi-hun knew why, but he refused to accept it. He took another swig.
Was it really logical? A man that graduated from one of the most prestigious colleges in Korea, top of his class ended up in a situation like that.
Despite knowing the answers, he couldn't help but ask himself these questions over and over.
No, none of it was logical. He took another swig.
It was all so Gi-hun could survive. So he wouldn't just give up and so he could make it out of there alive.
Why?
Really, why was anything? Why did he survive, and not anyone else? Why couldn't he have a happy ending? It's really a child's question, but maybe he was a child at that moment.
A child lost in a sea of people, looking for his friends, his mom.
No, he wasn't searching for them.
He had already lost them, he was yearning for them.
Yearned to be held by his mom again, and have her bandage his wounds he got from playing outside. Yearned to have a smoke with his old friend again, and be told off about how he could have done better.
Even though those moments stung, it was so much better than this.
Gi-hun didn't believe in god, but he hoped that he would see them again in the afterlife. Maybe he could stab himself in the neck with a knife, just like Sangwoo, or he could try to drown inside of this very lake.
He reached for the soju bottle to take another swig, but found it was empty. His alcohol tolerance was getting increasingly high. He had already drunk 3 bottles and the fire inside of him still burned. It thrashed and kicked and hurt.
It wasn't the fire that hurt. It was the absence of it that hurt, the cold inside of him that stung worse than anything he had ever felt before. The unwelcoming absence of warmth was a constant reminder of what had happened to put it out in the first place.
There was no amount of soju that could replace that fire, and he knew that.
But he was naive. Too hopeful. Too kind.
His gaze landed upon the river again, and he found two swans that stuck out amongst the rest. They were big, adults, and they were having their mating ritual.
The small heads of the swans clashed together as they shuffled and formed a heart with the space in between their necks. They danced in the water, and although they were just animals that were procreating, Gi-hun couldn't help but think about love.
He had loved his wife, although it didn't work out and they divorced.
He loved his mom, even though she was no longer there to love.
And worst of all, he loved his own friend, Sangwoo.
All of them had left him in one way or another, whether it was because of death or fate or both.
He continued to stare at the swans, infatuated with their encounter. He wondered if he could ever find love like that.
Probably not, after all he had been through.
Something cold and wet dripped down his cheek. His hand instinctively brushed his face to find out what if was.
Water.
It was about to rain, and he forgot to bring his umbrella. A long, airy sigh came out of his mouth and he cursed himself for forgetting.
It was the middle of July, its rainy season how did-
A sudden noise stopped his train of thought. He looked back up to see the swans that had previously been dancing struggling to fly away from the rain.
As the rain poured harder, he didn't try to get up, or find shelter.
Even when the rain clung to his skin and clothes like acid, or when it reminded him too much of that final game, where his best friend died in his arms.
He stayed still, soaking and drenched in rain.
He hates the rain.