Chapter Text
The games seem so close, yet so far.
It feels distant in the way his head seems to forget moments of it, events blurred and sometimes merged. It felt as if a shred of it was lodged into the back of his head, hiding, hoping to never be perceived again. It seemed like he could just reach out, and grab onto it, but it would slip through his fingers like liquid. Like blood. He would try to see it though. He could see the way his mind made up features to fill the blurry faces or replace them with the looks of people he encountered in his everyday life.
But Yong-sik couldn’t shake the near presence of the games; splatters of stranger’s blood seemed to get sucked into his skin, his clothes, and his hair. Thick wafts of iron, sweat, and potent blood occasionally fill his nose. He’ll crinkle his nose and feel an immense need to scrub the stains away or pick his skin until he feels numb.
***
Yong-sik grunted as he bent down to unlace his shoes. He kicked them off and crouched down to set them on the shoe rack. “I’m home!” he yelled into the hallway as he hung his employee ID and keys.
Boxes still littered the already cramped space, and new additions to the apartment adorned the walls and furniture. Geum-ja suggested (though Yong-sik would attest to her tone as assertive) moving into Yong-sik’s apartment to save money as they rebuild their lives. Day by day, the apartment reminded him more of his childhood home. The smell of Gochujang and fish sauce filled the entire apartment, which did nothing for his appetite.
“Hello Yong-sikya!” Geumja looked over her shoulder to flash a smile. She stood at the stove mixing a large ceramic pot. Various cutting boards filled with scraps of vegetables and fish. He walked behind the kitchen bar, which divided the kitchen and living room.
“Do you need help, Ma?” She snapped her head with the same energetic nature she always has.
” You can take the rice out of the rice maker” She trailed off into thought and then slightly shrugged “…but other than that dinner’s done.” Young-sik nodded and got to work, he padded his way across the tile floor to retrieve dishes from the cupboard. As he grabbed the dishes and placed them on the counter below him, he let out a stifled yelp.
“Are you okay?” His mother had moved and grabbed some dishes.
My back is killing me. “I’m fine Ma,” he brushes her off and quickly picks up the rest of the dishes. Geum-ja gives him a questioning look, though it doesn’t remain for long. Geum-ja sits at the table shortly after Yong-sik does. Dinner starts silently, with only the clack of utensils against the dishes or slurps of hot soup.
“You know, Junhee-ya sent me a text’ Geumja says before she takes a small bite of cucumber kimchi.
“How’s her and the baby?” Yong-sik looked up from his soup.
“Ah,” she smiles. “Junhee-ya said she’s going through her rebellious phase already.” Guemja huffs out a small laugh.
Yong-sik swallowed a heaping bite of rice as he prodded his soup with chopsticks. He huffed out a small laugh. It reminded him of his younger days. Geum-ja loved to talk his ear off over dinner. Secretly he would wish to have stayed in those moments. Oblivious, sure he had troubles as a child. But gambling was the only something villains did on TV. Squid games were a game where he was always in the lead. Before the kid two houses down eventually beat him, of course. It would make sense if those games conditioned him to be the person he grew up to be.
Always second, never first. His life never felt like it was being lived for him It was as if every shitty event had been decided by some force of the universe that loathed him, and all he could do was follow the script. Stay quiet. Keep your head down. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, when the apartment is still, he’d wonder if patching up his old life would just… will back to his nightmare of an old one.
“Yong-sikya? Are you listening to me?” Yong-sik’s thoughts shifted back to the present. He looks up from his clay pot and back at Guemja; a slight grimace replaced her smile.
“Hm? Sorry, what did you say?” He sputtered out.
“Hyunju-ya is heading to Thailand soon, Junhee and Daeho were thinking of throwing a farewell party.” Geumja’s smile returned, every time she brought up friends from the games
“Really? She is?”
“She didn’t tell you?”
“The last time she updated me was when she got her visa.” Yong-sik blinked. He lowered his spoon back into the bowl feeling the weight of his mother's gaze pressing into him.
She didn’t tell me.
He tried to brush away the sting, but it latched onto him stubbornly. Hyunju was supposed to be his friend. The only one on the Island he fully trusted (with an exception for his mother, of course.)
Hyunju was the one to see him break and sat beside him when his hands were trembling with blood and panic. She was the one who came up to him as he peered out to the island and said,“When we get out of this, we’ll live like it never happened.”
Maybe she is doing just that. Living like it never happened. And leaving him behind in the process.
“She must’ve been busy” Guemja muttered, reaching for her soup again, the thought of food now made Yong-sik’s stomach turn.
Guemja didn’t press further. She just kept her attention on the food, her lips pressed into a thin line as she stirred the little remnants of her soup.
“I suppose… It’s good she’s leaving Korea. Thailand is far, but… this is what she wants.”
It’s what SHE wants.
Yong-sik felt something heavy sink into his chest. Those words rattled around in his mind.
“I should text her,” he said aloud, though it sounded more like a question than a statement.
Guemja looked at him carefully. “You should, just so she knows you’re still thinking of her,” she offered.
Yong-sik nodded slowly. Still thinking of her.
He forced a smile, ‘I will, Ma.”
But even as they moved on to lighter topics; TV dramas, groceries, whether the plants needed watering. Yong-sik couldn’t stop the thoughts of Hyunju creep into his mind.
***
Yong-sik quickly finished his dinner, and he helped his mother clean the dirty dishes. Once he placed the last bowl onto the drying mat Guemja dismissed him from cleaning, mumbling about how he needed to sleep. Yong-sik let outa soft thank you to his mother and retreated to his room. Yong-sik took his phone out of his pocket and watched the black screen light up. He scanned the new notifications, only looking for one specific name. However, it came to no avail.
He placed his phone on his nightstand, trying to wash away the doubt, and made his way to the bathroom. The shower didn’t take long to heat up, soon after Yong-sik undressed and stepped in. His back ached, his feet throbbed from standing all day, but the heaviness in his chest weighed him down the most. He submerged his head under the shower head, letting the water stream along his face. He kept on with his usual routine, occasionally scratching away at his body like he was trying to scrub of invisible dirt. And dried blood that was washed off ages ago.
After the shower Yong-sik headed back to his room. He let out a long breath and leaned until his back met the wall. His pajamas clung to his body. The familiar cracks in the ceiling stared back to him. A cobweb he meant to sweep weeks ago sat in the corner. He could hear the soft lull of his mother’s drama through the thin walls; the chirpy theme-song jarred against the silence he was drowning in.
His phone still sat on the nightstand, screen black and jarring.
Text her. Just text her.
He thought of Hyunju’s smile, shy and crooked, always seeping through when around Guemja.
Just… Don’t be weird about it.
But he didn’t even know what to say. What do you tell someone who saw you at probably the most vulnerable moments of your life? Who held your bloodied hands, provided comfort in the very place he witnessed hundreds get gunned down for sport? What do you say to the only guiltless comfort in your life. All while expecting to never them again.
He reached for his phone and opened it to their messages. The last text from her was almost a month ago. ’Thank you!’ He scrolled further. They used to talk more, though it was mostly updated from life outside the games and talks of dinners his mom hosted. He stared at her contact photo; a candid photo Daeho took of her when she first held Junhee’s baby.
He hovered his thumbs over the keyboard then typed.
>Hey, Ma told me ur going to Thailand? That’s cool.
He stared at it. Cool? What are you? A kid? He deleted the message, then rewrote it.
>Why didn’t u tell me ur leaving?
He deleted it again.
>Hope you’re ok. Let me know if you need help with the move or anything.
He hit send.
Then he set his phone face-down and collapsed into, staring at the ceiling like it was some cheat sheet that could explain. It didn’t.
***
He didn’t sleep well that night.
At some point, he dreamt of the island again. That damn blaring music, the pink guards, the screams. But this time Hyunju was included, she was turned away from him, leaning against the rescue boats rails. The drawstring bag that held her belongings was held tight and hung against her side.
He jolted awake at around 3am, heart pounding, sweat clung to his pajamas and temples.
His phone was still on the nightstand. No reply.
Yong-sik wanted to tell himself it didn’t matter. That people change. That the games brought more trauma than bond to the other players. But all he could think about was how easy it was for everyone else to forget. How fast they seemed to implement back into the world, while he was still stuck trying to scrape the blood out from under his nails
After some moments passed, he sat up. Rubbed his eyes. Then stood, walked barefoot to the kitchen. He peeked into the living room. His mom had fallen asleep on the couch, arms folded, her mouth slightly agape, the TV still on. He tiptoed to the couch, turned off the TV and draped a blanket over her, pausing for a moment to just look at her. Still here, after everything I’ve put her through. Maybe Hyunju is right to ignore me.
He poured himself a glass of water, sipping it as he looked around the surroundings, lit by the city lights. The plants where wilting by the window, he made a mental note to water them tomorrow.
Back in his room, he opened his phone one last time.
Seen. no reply.
He stared at it more.
Then he returned his phone to the nightstand and laid back down, letting the silence wrap around him again.