Chapter Text
Dae-ho watches the coloured balls churn and lurch in the gumball machine, his stomach doing the same. A blue ball spits out and Dae-ho snatches it. Every second under the watchful eyes of his fellow players is torture. Inaudible murmurs pull teeth with each glancing breath, every silent smirk hits like a gut punch. Dae-ho throws the blue vest he's handed over his sweatshirt. He doesn't know anything about the game yet, but wearing the vest makes him uneasy. He always hated the colour blue.
The suspense before the game announcement gnaws on his flighty mind, but the answer bites it clean in two: keys and knives, and he's on the wrong end of the blade. Armed with nothing but a stupid key, he scoffs wryly to himself. Dae-ho exhales shakily. He just needs to convince one person to switch teams with him.
Unfortunately, he doesn't have friends in this game anymore. No one will entertain swapping vests. No one wants to talk to Dae-ho, no one even looks at him. Well, almost no one. No matter where he goes, no matter what he does, his eyes always follow, burning mercilessly into the back of his skull. And Dae-ho can't take it any longer.
"What the hell is your problem? You keep staring at me," Daeho spits down at Gi-hun. "Is this because you blame me for losing everyone? That wasn't my fault! That rebellion was doomed to fail!" Gi-hun still says nothing. Dae-ho grasps his vest, voice loud. "If we had just attacked the other side we would've won the fight and won the vote! It was only 'cause you just had to play the hero that we lost everyone! It was your fucking fault! Yours! You killed them all it was your–"
Cold hard metal jabs into Dae-ho's back. He reluctantly raises his trembling hands into the air.
"Violence between players before the game commences will not be tolerated," a pink guard states, emphasizing the warning with a light push of their gun.
⋆｡°✩ ◎▵▣ ✩°｡⋆
Every step Dae-ho takes sets off firecrackers of pain sizzling up his injured leg. His vision swims with dizziness, the colourful halls spinning. He can't run any longer. He needs to hide. Heart banging against his eardrums, he ducks inside a room and slams the door behind him. Dae-ho's body moves reflexively, crawling to the wall beside the doorway and clapping a hand over his mouth. Just like he used to. His mind runs on only survival instincts, and they don't know the difference between Gi-hun and his drunken father. The difference doesn't matter, they want the same thing. Dae-ho looks, unblinking, at the clock. 4:56. He just needs to be invisible for 5 minutes. He can do that. He was invisible for the first 19 years of his life, after all.
But unlike his father, Gi-hun doesn't come bursting and shouting into the room. Instead he creeps slowly, a cat stalking its prey. Dae-ho sinks further into the wall. He goes so still, it's a wonder his heart doesn't stop. Gi-hun creaks open the door. Takes a slow step forward. Scans the room.
Then shuts the door behind him.
They lock eyes. Before Dae-ho can open his mouth to plead, Gi-hun lunges. Dae-ho catches his arm before the knife can bear down, shoving Gi-hun to the floor. He shoots to his feet, brandishing his shoe as a last source of defense. The only time he saw someone fight back against his father was when he threatened Dae-ho with a broken bottle. His eldest sister had done it in a flash, whipped it to the floor with nothing but her slipper and a scowl. Dae-ho wishes he had her brave face right now.
Spent, limping, and overwhelmed with memory, Dae-ho doesn't put up much of a fight. They grapple for only seconds before he manages to knock the knife away with a sweep of the shoe, but it leaves him wide open. Gi-hun takes the opportunity, shoving Dae-ho to the ground, hands wrapping around his neck. "Why?" Is all he snarls.
"I–" Dae-ho hisses in pain as Gi-hun's weight shifts onto his injured leg. He thrashes helplessly at Gi-hun's arms, growing light-headed as insufficient oxygen pushes laboriously into his brain. Gihun’s form twists into a vague shadow below the ceiling of yellow stars; so many stars, all swaying and blurring into a mocking afterglow. "I c-can't...can't breathe!" He cries.
"I LIED, OKAY!"
The iron grip on his neck loosens, just enough for Dae-ho to swallow blood and bile. "I-I wasn't a marine. I wasn't. I've barely sh...shot a gun properly. But I, I tried, like really fucking tr-tr-tried to become one, but they wouldn't...I wasn't...they didn't let me because of...'c-cause I've got...anxiety," he stutters, heaving. "They said...said I wasn't strong enough. Mentally. Clearly they were right."
Dae-ho feels Gi-hun's grasp go slack, his face unreadable. This might be Dae-ho’s last chance. He pulls Gi-hun's arms off of him, rolling onto his hurt leg. He yelps at the sharp pain and tries to scramble to his feet, but Gi-hun is too quick. Dae-ho's ears ring as his head violently meets the concrete, Gi-hun's grip back on his throat. Dae-ho claws and scratches uselessly.
"B-but I did serve in the military!" He lifts Gi-hun's fingers enough to shout. "I...I just became a social service personnel instead. S-served for two years. Never came clean to my family about it, just lied and lied and...I was so humiliated.
“When I was a kid, every time my dad saw, saw me playing dolls with my sisters or...growing my hair long, he'd tell me I needed t-to man up. That I wasn't...wasn't making him proud. That's why I did it. Why I served and why I lied. I...j-just wanted to be the son he always wanted. Just wanted to be someone you all wanted." Tears stream down Dae-ho's face, buds of bruises beginning to blossom purple on his skin. Gi-hun just keeps staring.
"And we were losing, Gi-hun," Dae-ho sniffles softly. "The plan...didn't work. And if Hyun-ju didn't come back for the ammunition, then, then she would be gone too." Gi-hun's brow softens slightly. "You know, you two have s-something in common. Don't...don't you remember when we lost Young-mi? How Hyun-ju blew up on that guy, even though he saved all our lives?” Dae-ho attempts to laugh, but a broken, croaky wheeze is all he can manage. “Both of you need to accept that…that sometimes, there's no one to blame when bad things happen. They just...happen. Because it wasn't your fault either. I...I know you were just trying to end the games."
Finally, Gi-hun breaks. Clamoring away from Dae-ho, he puts his head in his hands. He might be weeping, he might be seething. Dae-ho can't tell.
Dae-ho coughs, voice hoarse and hurting. "Look, I know I'm not totally innocent. I lied. I might not be a marine, but that's still against my code of honor as a military worker. I'm truly sorry. But you can't just put all your grief and anger onto me, or you'll forget who we're really fighting." Dae-ho manages a worn, brittle smile. The room is suddenly so still.
Gi-hun slowly lifts his head, red eyes softening with realization. "You're right," he rasps. "You're…you’re not a killer, Dae-ho. You're just human." Gi-hun looks at the clock. "In two minutes, I'm going to die. I haven't killed a hider. Please, look out for Jun-hee and the others for me. Protect them. Can you do that?"
Dae-ho bites down on his lip and reaches for Gihun's discarded knife.
"No, sir. I can't."
He thrusts the blade into his side, gasping and straining in pain. "But…you can."
Gihun's mouth falls open in shock. "What the— what the hell are you doing?"
"Sa...Sacrificing myself...to save a brother in arms." Daeho sees Gihun's hands hesitate over his gushing wound. "C'mon, I'm...I'm hurting here. Just finish me off and...protect the others. Go end this thing."
Gi-hun's eyes well up with fresh tears as he gently reaches for the knife lodged in Dae-ho's side. "Thank you," he whispers. He swiftly pulls, then presses the hilt into Dae-ho's chest. Firm, fast, merciful. Gi-hun grips Dae-ho’s arm tight, brotherly, as he slips away. He puts a hand to the fallen soldier's face and gently draws his eyes shut.
"Player 388, eliminated. Player 456, pass."
Gi-hun decides then and there that Dae-ho was wrong. There is someone to blame for this death and all the others, and Gi-hun is going to make them pay. By ending the games, no matter the cost.