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Shoichi is camped out on a rooftop corner, crowded by softly-humming machinery and sashes of thick black cables that sway in the wind. A tarp spread between ledges claims the little nook as his own, and although it isn’t the coziest space, he gets a nice view of the city while still having some protection from the drizzling rain. Dreary weather always seems to linger over the Geomijul — or maybe that’s just his natural pessimism speaking.
He hears footsteps approach as a stray raindrop is blown onto the papers he’s working on. Someone clears their throat impatiently, but Shoichi makes them wait while he dabs at it and wipes up a smudge of running ink, before he finally turns to them with a wry smile.
Joon-gi Han furrows his brow and taps his foot against the damp pavement. His slick black hood is tugged up as far as it will go, his shoulders hunched inelegantly and his face turned from the rain, although the occasional drip still manages to make contact. His unyielding stare is burning a hole into Shoichi, but the expression is hard to decipher. It could mean a million things on such a stern-faced man.
Shoichi doesn’t hold a grudge against Joon-gi, not anymore, but they’ve never really seen eye to eye. “Yes?” he asks with feigned innocence, as if that flinty look isn’t directed right at him.
Joon-gi falters. He stands up straight and makes a clear attempt at forming a more approachable expression. It just looks uncomfortable. “There’s a matter I wish to speak with you about, if you’re not busy. Would you follow me inside for a moment?”
Shoichi squints up at him skeptically as he processes the wording. It’s strange to hear ‘I’ from Joon-gi. In official matters, he almost always uses the royal ‘we’, like the Geomijul is one big hivemind. ‘I’ means personal, and Joon-gi doesn’t do personal.
Regardless, Shoichi nods in response before the silence can grow too long. “Alright, lead the way,” he says with a shrug, and gathers his supplies into a messy bundle that gets tucked beneath his arm.
He expects to be traveling the winding path back to the headquarters, but instead, they duck into the nearest empty building. The room is a little dusty but lived-in, with a few worn-out pieces of furniture in a kitschy mismatch of colors. The yellowed light makes it look like an old photo. Like a lot of the Geomijul, it’s shabby at best, but rather warm and inviting compared to the exterior.
Joon-gi sits gracefully perched on a barstool in front of a lopsided coffee table. Shoichi places his things on the table and flops down onto the lumpy overstuffed armchair on the opposite side. He crosses one leg over his lap, trying to keep an appearance of nonchalance, but he’s kept on edge by the man sitting before him.
Joon-gi’s shoulders are slumped just a fraction of an inch, far too much for a perfectionist like him, and his tightly-clasped hands lay loosely in his lap. He presses his lips into a thin line and hesitates. Shoichi holds back a snarky comment and resigns himself to waiting at the intersection between dread and indifference.
After what must have been a few seconds but felt much longer, Joon-gi takes a slow breath, lets it out sharply, and finally says, “I wanted to talk to you about, well… the whole situation with your brother.”
“Ah." Far from poignant, but it’s the only reply that he can manage to force out.
He and Joon-gi have been on relatively good terms recently — while Shoichi never quite got over his first impression of Joon-gi as Seonhee’s prissy little lapdog, their occasional bickering or passive-aggressive spats always pale in comparison to the last time they talked about his brother.
The memory is an old wound, but he finds that it’s still tender to the touch.
Shoichi had stormed through headquarters with violent determination, shoving and shouting at anyone in his way. He bashed through a door loud enough to hear something crack. People were staring, people were screaming, and he could barely understand them, lost in the pounding of his heartbeat and his footsteps.
But Joon-gi didn’t even flinch. He didn't even look at Shoichi. He was still cautious, pausing to listen closely as he observed the fuzzy image of Shoichi on one of the many computer screens before him — but he put on a show of purposeful disengagement as he pretended to be idly searching through surveillance footage. One of his underlings called out a foreign phrase, shrill and concerned. A few others dashed in to hold Shoichi back, grabbing him roughly by the arms. Shoichi stomped and struggled against his restraints.
Joon-gi simply raised one hand in a dismissive wave.
Confused glances were thrown around, the commotion turned to quiet murmurs. Shoichi twisted free of their grasp and stepped forward. He was actually searching for Seonhee, and had been prepared to turn and leave, but Joon-gi’s cold apathy pissed him off enough to make him reconsider.
“Han,” he growled. His face was flushed hot with anger.
Joon-gi finally turned around. He eyed Shoichi up and down, his gaze filled with poorly-hidden disdain. “Shoichi,” he said, like a warning.
Shoichi pressed on. “I need to see him.”
“We've already discussed this.” His tone was patient and polite, yet dripping with malice.
Shoichi clenched his teeth, his entire body strung so tight that his head pulsed with pain and sparks danced in the corners of his vision.
It all exploded at once as he slammed his white-knuckled fist down on the console. “Let me see my brother!” he shouted, the unnatural force of it rattling through his chest. Waves of static ran over the monitors, lighting them up with warbling colors like an oil slick.
A flare of rage shimmered in Joon-gi’s eyes. But he took the high road, keeping his anger carefully controlled, only letting out a quiet scoff.
“No, Shoichi.” His voice was righteous and resonant, each syllable enunciated deliberately as if he was speaking to a child. The flickering screen behind him formed a menacing halo. “We're not going to risk our entire operation — to put the lives of everyone here at stake — over your recklessness.”
It wasn’t the first time he had been called that, but it may have been the first time he’s heard it said with so much disgust. He usually isn’t proud of the moments where he lets his temper get the better of him. That time, though, he couldn’t bring himself to regret screaming in Joon-gi’s face, even if it led him nowhere. He had wanted to knock Joon-gi’s teeth right out of his prim and proper face. He probably would have, if he had any chance of winning that fight, and wouldn’t have regretted that, either.
The Joon-gi Han in front of him now is like a completely different person. He looks nervous, almost contrite, as Shoichi spends a moment too long in quiet recollection.
“But isn’t that all over with?” Shoichi quickly appends to his previous non-answer.
“Yes, of course.” Joon-gi shifts in his seat, folding and unfolding his hands before settling on leaving them loosely interlaced. He chooses each word with thorough consideration. “I still felt that… I needed to get some things off my chest before I could truly consider it resolved. We never had the chance to properly talk things through.”
After their lives had calmed down, there was an unspoken agreement between the two to let it all be swept under the rug and pretend like nothing ever happened. It wasn’t the best solution, nor the most mature one, but it had served them well enough for the time being. Although a conspiratorial part of Shoichi wants to believe that there’s some ulterior motive at play, he has to admit that he can’t find a single trace of a lie in Joon-gi’s features. Shoichi is honestly impressed.
He can’t stop himself from remarking, “You’ve really changed, haven’t you?”
“I suppose so. A lot has changed, lately.” Joon-gi gives a small smile, genuine but slightly awkward.
Shoichi makes an open gesture, motioning for Joon-gi to continue. “Alright, then. I’m all ears.”
Joon-gi’s smile starts to look more like a grimace. His eyes scan the peeling wallpaper and chipped floor as if he’ll find his answers written there. The ceiling fan casts flickering shadows over them, but the hint of a breeze does little to clear the stale air or cut through the thick atmosphere. He clears his throat and looks everywhere but at Shoichi. “I’ve realized that things look much different in hindsight,” he begins.
Shoichi can’t keep a laugh from bubbling up, but he quickly wipes the smirk from his face. “I could have told you that.”
A trace of frustration passes over Joon-gi, but it only seems to be directed towards the ground. He toes at a crumbling piece of tile. Then, suddenly, he squares his shoulders and focuses his attention back on Shoichi. There’s a tense seriousness in his eyes, but it’s nothing like that night.
“Back then, I was solely focused on protecting our organization. They’re my family. I didn’t care what happened to anyone else as long as they were safe.” Before Shoichi can object, he continues, with a humorless breath of a laugh, “Yet the irony has only recently begun to dawn on me — even though I would do anything to protect my brothers of the Geomijul, I completely underestimated the bond between you and yours.”
It’s an admission that should leave Shoichi feeling vindicated, but all that rises up is relief and old guilt. He and Yu were never particularly close. They had every right to be bitter at each other, with how much trouble they got each other into as kids, or the way they turned everything into a competition, or the years at a time where they never spoke. Their relationship was always rocky, but the fact remains that they were willing to risk their lives for each other.
Shoichi clears the emotion from his throat. “Y’know, Yu’s softened up recently, too. Must be some real good friends you two have.”
“Yes, I’m very lucky to have them.” The tension leaves Joon-gi’s shoulders. Shoichi has never heard such a soft fondness in his voice. “And you’re incredibly lucky to have such a wonderful wife and brother. Always remember that.”
Shoichi leans forward receptively, but matches Joon-gi’s easy posture. “Never thought I’d hear you say that, Han.”
“I didn’t think so, either,” Joon-gi admits. He combs his fingers through his hair, insistently rearranging the strands even though they looked the same as always. “But he has a strong sense of loyalty and a good head on his shoulders, and I must confess that, over time, I’ve come to admire that about him.”
While Shoichi hates to ruin such a sweet moment, his concern for his brother takes priority. He fixes Joon-gi with a curious look that borders on patronizing, like the one his brother would give him any time he got into trouble. “And have you told any of this to Yu?”
Joon-gi shrinks back meekly, like he does when Seonhee admonishes him. Shoichi gets a dangerous amount of enjoyment out of pestering him.
“Ah, er… no. I had never said it directly, but I didn’t think there were any hard feelings between us, and I hoped he knew that.” He glances up to Shoichi. “... Does he?”
Shoichi shrugs. “He didn’t say. But knowing him, he probably still blames himself for the whole thing.”
“Of course he would…” Joon-gi sighs deeply, his head sagging.
“Han, I do greatly appreciate your apology.” He sits upright and Joon-gi follows, meeting his gaze. “And I’m willing to let this all go and start over again—” A little spark of hope forms in Joon-gi’s eyes, and promptly fades as Shoichi continues, "On one condition."
Joon-gi’s face falls into a mild annoyance, almost a pout. “Yes?”
“You have to tell Yu everything you’ve told me. Compliments and all.”
“Can’t you just tell him?” Joon-gi grumbles, wringing his hands.
Shoichi puts on his most charming smile. “It’d mean a lot more if it came from you.”
Joon-gi quits the dramatics, other than a lingering look of exasperation. “Well, I don’t want him to be hard on himself, and Kasuga would appreciate it, too… I suppose it would only be proper,” he concedes. He stands and bows — lower than Shoichi has ever seen him bow to anyone but Seonhee. “I accept your condition.”
Shoichi thinks about bowing back, but he opts to casually clap Joon-gi on the shoulder once he’s upright again.
Joon-gi gives him an awkward pat in return. “I suppose this doesn’t mean you’ll stop trying to mess with me at every opportunity?”
Shoichi grins. “Maybe. We’ll see.”