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Gihun looked up to the window above him. Behind it, he imagined to see the shadow of figures — the VIP's, watching his every move just like they had three years ago.
But there was another figure. Another person, watching him as he slowly stepped closer towards the edge.
Gihun knew Young-il was watching. He wondered what went through the other man’s head.. Was he angry? Perhaps even sad?
Gihun had thrown away his offer, had put down the knife that would have guaranteed his survival. And now here he was, moments away from his death.
He couldn't find it in himself to regret his choice. He regretted a lot — hell, he regretted so much he didn't know where to start. So many ghosts were haunting him, so many people gone, dead, dead because of him.
It felt right that it was his turn now. It had to be like this: If they didn't deserve to live, then why should he?
Gihun let out a deep breath and looked at the bundle in the middle of the platform. It looked so small, so vulnerable. So innocent.
He hoped the baby would get a good life. He prayed that he had managed to save her, to save one single person even if he had failed so often before.
The timer was ticking down and Gihun turned his back to the edge. The words rose without his permission — he hadn't planned on speaking, on making some grand exit. But speaking them now, they seemed… fitting.
"We are not horses. We are humans. Humans are…"
With his final word, Gihun let himself fall backwards.
He didn’t feel panicked as the edge disappeared under his feet. The air was rushing by his body, almost comforting in its fleeting embrace.
He closed his eyes and smiled as the impact hit him.
Gihun was floating. Floating in a strange hue, his whole body feeling fuzzy and wrong. He wanted to open his eyes but he no longer remembered how to. He tried to speak but had no mouth to form the words.
He wasn't scared. He wasn't sure what being scared felt like. He didn’t know if he could even feel anything. He just let himself float, drift in this strange form of existence. Relishing at the first real peace he had gotten in decades.
When the feeling returned to his body, Gihun didn't know how much time had gone by. Was there even still time? He couldn't tell but he also knew that it wasn't important.
He was dead. It was strange how long it took him to come to the conclusion when it should have been so simple. He was dead and this was … the afterlife?
Only now Gihun realized that he could feel his eyes again. He forced them open and was greeted by the sun.
He blinked against the light, holding up one hand to shield his eyes before closing them again.
For a moment he allowed himself to just stay there, on the floor and enjoy the warmth of the sun. He hadn't realized how long it had been since he had seen it.
"Gihun?"
For a moment, he wasn't sure whether the voice was real or a simple image of his imagination. He had heard it so often in the last three years. It had haunted his dreams, his every waking thought. But now…
Gihun forced himself to sit up. With surprise he realized that he was in a field, green grass stretching as far as he could see. He stared at it, carefully carding his fingers through the soft strands. God, it had been so long since he had last touched grass.
"Gihun!"
The voice came again and he turned around. In the distance he could see a figure. He blinked, wiping over his eyes. Could it really be?
"Mom?"
The figure waved and Gihun stumbled to his feet. He was faintly aware that he was running, feet flying over the grass, stumbling and barely able to keep his balance. His whole attention was on the small figure growing bigger and bigger with every step.
A sob tore from his throat as he reached her. Gihun all but flew into her arms, burying his face in the soft fabric of her wonderful soft cardigan.
Her arms came up to hug him and he allowed himself to sink into them, feeling like the little boy he once was.
His mother was carding one hand through his hair and he felt tears soak into the fabric of her clothes. Oh god he had missed her. He didn't even realize how much he had missed her till he was seeing her again.
"Oh Gihun." Her voice was soft, softer than it had ever been while she had been alive. Gone was the stress, the pressure of looking out for them both, the fear and anger streaked through her every action. She was relaxed and… happy.
He felt another tear run down his face.
He had really been a failure of a son if the happiest his mother had ever been was after her death.
She seemed to have guessed his thoughts and carefully pushed him back so she could study his face.
Her eyes darkened in grief and sadness.
"Oh Gihun. What has happened to you?" She carefully wiped a hand over his face, tracing the scars and lines etched into his skin.
He swallowed, words stuck in his throat. "I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry." His voice broke and he felt a sob rack through him. "I left you alone and I'm so sorry. I — I should have…"
"Shh," she gently shushed him. "You did nothing wrong. We will talk about everything later. There are others who want to see you."
She stepped aside and Gihun stumbled backwards, one hand flying to his mouth.
In front of him stood… everyone. God, everyone, every person he had lost over the last few years, every friend he had let down.
Someone stepped forward and Gihun felt his legs give out as he recognized Sangwoo. He was still wearing the suit he had worn so often over the last few years they had known each other but the shirt was untucked, the jacket open and he… he was smiling, smiling like Gihun had last seen when they were little kids.
Another person loosened themselves from the group and Gihun saw that it was Sae-byeok, smiling at him. He felt his heart break at the sigh.
"I… I am so sorry." His voice broke and he felt tears well up in his eyes once more. "I promised… I failed you. I failed all of you."
His eyes wandered over the people standing there. There was Ali, waving as he noticed Gihun's look. Junhee, Hyun-ju and Geum-ja stood together, Yong-sik gripping the hand of his mother.
Next to them stood Jungbae — oh god, Jungbae — who had one arm wrapped around Daeho. Gihun felt bile rise in his throat as he looked at the young man whose life he had taken.
Daeho was not looking at him and Gihun had to force his eyes away, unable to look at his face any longer without seeing it stained with blood and tears as he pressed off his airway.
He felt a hand touch his shoulder and then Sangwoo was wrapping him into a hug. Gihun threw his arms around his friend, desperately holding onto him, scared that every wrong movement might take him away again.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he gasped, voice broken with sobs.
"You have no reason to apologize." Sangwoo pulled away and studied Gihun's face carefully. "You’re not responsible for my death, Hyung. I chose it myself and I’m sorry that I put you through so much."
Gihun shook his head desperately. "I could have stopped you. You killed yourself for… for me and it's my fault!"
A second hand landed on his shoulder and he turned his head to see Sae-byeok kneel next to him. Her eyes were full of sadness and understanding and he felt his stomach cramp up.
God, she was too young to have gone through this. She was too young to have died.
"Don't feel guilty. You didn't kill us, none of us, and you beat yourself up about it long enough."
His eyes found Daeho again and he felt sick. "You're wrong," he whispered. He had killed someone. He had killed Daeho, simply because he couldn't admit to himself that he had been wrong. That he was the reason Jungbae and so many others had died.
He had been so full of grief and anger and instead of doing the right thing he had let it out on him. He had murdered Daeho.
He felt himself get to his feet and stumble towards the young man. Jungbae smiled at him as he approached, sadness in his eyes but no hatred. Not the hatred Gihun deserved.
He sank to his knees in front of Daeho, tears falling freely from his cheeks and soaking into the fabric of his pants.
"Daeho,” he choked, trying to find words to bring across what he needed to say.
“Daeho, I — I won't ask you for forgiveness because I don't deserve it. But I was wrong. I need you to know that I was so, so terribly wrong. You are no coward.
And — please, you need to believe me — you were not at fault for anything that happened. I was so full of rage and self hatred I put it all on you but I was wrong! You did nothing wrong and I am so, so terribly sorry for everything I did to you."
Gihun looked to the ground, unable to see the judging eyes around him, the hatred he deserved.
For a moment, everyone was silent. Then, someone lowered themselves down next to him and a soft hand touched his shoulder.
Gihun hesitantly lifted his head. Daeho was kneeling in front of him, eyes full of tears but face still open and free of the hatred Gihun had expected.
"I know. I know that you didn't mean it and I — I forgive you. What you did, it was … it was wrong but I don't hate you for it. You weren't yourself. Not really."
Gihun couldn't find any words. Everything he had expected, everything he knew he deserved… it wasn't this. Not forgiveness.
Daeho smiled. "It's over now. The games, everything. It's okay, Gihun."
He felt new tears well up in his eyes but this time they didn't come from pain or guilt.
They came from relief. It was over. It was really over.