Chapter Text
Gi-hun has been divorced for two months now.
It was all still setting in– just how real the situation was. His hair was in the awkward stage of the top being longer than his now overgrowing sides, curls that had previously been shaved off appearing for the first time in years under his ears. He keeps meaning to get it cut, but trying to get everything into place after having to uproot all you’ve known for the past decade wasn’t exactly easy. Or fast. In fact it was a lot more time consuming than he ever thought it would be. The last time he had to do this, he had his wife– Kang Eun-ji –at his side, helping him sort through the never-ending listings for apartments and tiny homes. She had always been more knowledgeable than him when it came to that. He remembered– he even brought up her becoming a real-estate agent, if she ever wanted to. She was smart enough, she knew just about every little thing someone should know when it came to those stupid sites and the shitty apartment buildings that lined every city.
But she had laughed it off then, and right now Gi-hun was struggling to move back out of his mothers house.
That wasn’t a concern for him at this exact moment, though, even if it lingered in the back of his mind. A little hand was holding onto his fingers, dragging him down the streets of Seoul at seven AM, hurried footsteps taking him to open glass doors.
Ga-yeong was seven. Gi-hun shut off his phone, ignoring the already aggravated texts from Eun-ji flowing in. It was seven sixteen in the morning, and they were going to a hole in the wall coffee shop that had a variety of Ga-yeong’s favorite treats for breakfast. She needed to be at the school by eight.
“Hey! Slow down, you’re going to run into someone–” Gi-hun said, pulling the excited little girl back. She made an exaggerated turn to him, a look of urgency on her face.
“We’re going to be late!”
“We’re early!”
“No we’re not!” Ga-yeong insisted, grabbing his wrist with her other hand.
She had a backpack that was slightly too big on her, one that she demanded to have on every time she got out of the car. Her uniform was pristine and fit her perfectly– that was something Gi-hun made sure of –but her frantic movements were starting to make it all fall apart. He’d have to fix everything for the third time when they got back to the car.
“Aish– what are you in a hurry for?”
The coffee shop was a part of their morning routine. Even now, when Gi-hun had moved back to Ssangmundong, he was determined to pick up Ga-yeong from her mothers and make it to this shop so she could have breakfast. He just had to wake up a little bit earlier than he used to to make the drive between the cities. He yawned as they passed through the doors.
He always ordered whatever the first sugary drink he saw was with a donut– he was never too hungry so early in the morning. Ga-yeong always got an alarmingly pink drink that he could never remember the name of, and some more filling pastries to accompany whatever breakfast that Eun-ji packed for her. So, he didn’t pay much mind to what all was going on, only set on trying to find the name of the pink drink on the menu before he had to order.
The regular morning treats weren’t the only thing that made up this routine though.
Ga-yeong was once again dragging Gi-hun to the small line that was beginning to form at the counter. It was comfortably warm in the shop, a contrast to the cold wind from outside.
Standing in front of them was a plain grey suit.
Ga-yeong jumped on her heels, staring intently at the back of the man’s head. Right. The man in the suit who was always lugging around a laptop. He glanced at the man as well, before looking down at the little girl with a barely hidden, yet amused scoff.
This man was here every morning, at the same time, with the same exact order. Every single day. And has been, for the past six months that Ga-yeong and Gi-hun have been coming to this coffee shop. He always wore some sort of suit– nothing too complex, nothing too wildly colored– Ga-yeong had even gotten excited when he came in blue instead of grey or black one day. He remembered the conversation– was something good happening that day? Was he dressed up because he got a promotion? Or did he have a big meeting to attend?
At first, Gi-hun didn’t think it was the same man every time they got in line. He even tried to tell the little girl– there were plenty of men of his stature, wearing the same monotonous suits all around them. Hell, even he was the same height as the guy. But Ga-yeong insisted, it’s the same suitcase-guy! No matter what, until eventually, Gi-hun saw that it really was the same man. That was when he tried to tell her it was a laptop bag, not a suitcase that he carried, but she wasn’t having it by that point.
It was a little weird, whenever he thought in depth about this fixation Ga-yeong seemed to have. But she was a seven year old, and this man was a part of her routine whether he was aware of it or not. And he most definitely didn’t seem aware of it. Ga-yeong still hasn’t even said hello to him.
Gi-hun tried to make it so they never disturbed him– even if he was chatty himself, and wouldn’t mind the conversation with another adult in the morning.
The man seemed to be like any other salaryman you’d find in Seoul, down to the style of suit and neatly combed hair. He always had his phone pressed to his ear, talking quietly to whoever was on the other end, never turning around in line and making his transaction fast. It seemed that the baristas working at this shop had his order memorized, because Gi-hun couldn’t recall a single time when this man had verbally said his order. He just pulled out his card from his wallet, used the one-tap payment that Gi-hun was still trying to grasp, then moved to the other counter to wait for his order. Even in the pause when he was paying, the most he ever said was a simple greeting to the girl working the register.
But Ga-yeong found him interesting enough.
She tugged at Gi-hun’s jacket sleeve.
He looked at her, “Hm?”
She, wordlessly, pointed to the man in front of them, her arm still close to her body as to not make it obvious. She was looking between the both of them with wide eyes.
“What?” Gi-hun said. Ga-yeong gripped his sleeve and shook his arm, pulling a laugh out of him, despite her panicked look. The man didn’t turn to look at them. Ga-yeong got Gi-hun’s attention again, then mouthed, ‘No phone.’ He blinked.
Gi-hun looked at the man. No phone. At least, there wasn’t one at his ear. He hummed with a nod, turning his head to her once again.
“You gonna say hi?” This time, Gi-hun whispered, though Ga-yeong startled all the same. She quickly shook her head no.
Before Gi-hun could tease her any further, the man’s phone began ringing.
—
Turns out the pink drink was just called ‘Pink Drink.’
Gi-hun shook his head as he picked up the order, mentally scolding himself for forgetting such a stupid gimmick. How low effort was that? He couldn’t lie, he was a little aggravated that something like that would slip his mind. Was it so hard to come up with a name? These places usually had those– maybe that’s why he always seemed to forget it, because it should have a name, it just didn’t. He took a sip from the drink– immediately getting hit with a strong, sour strawberry –and was greeted with a shocked gasp from his small companion for the morning.
“That’s my drink!”
“I was taste-testing it!” Gi-hun quickly deflected, “What if it was poisoned, hm? Should I let my little girl get poisoned?” Ga-yeong gave him an exasperated look.
The suitcase guy in the grey suit had left not too long ago.
“It’s not poisoned,” Ga-yeong said, reaching up for her drink, “They wouldn’t poison us, Appa.” He sighed, clicking his tongue as he handed it to her and he picked up his own vanilla latte . . . but suddenly, he was choking. Ga-yeong startled–
“Ah– Ga-yeong-ie!” He gasped, a hand going to his throat while the other picked up the brown bag of pastries off the counter with his pinky finger– balancing that and the drink, “I’ve b– I’ve been–”
“Appa?”
He took her arm and quickly guided her away from the pickup counter, letting the people behind them get to their order. He feigned a wheeze– slouching over, coughing– “I’ve been poisoned, Ga-yeong!”
“Appa!” Ga-yeong shrieked, grabbing him back now, a look of pure panic pulling her brows together–
“You can’t drink it, you can’t drink that drink!” Gi-hun pointed at the Pink Drink, coughing once again. He was pulling both of them out of the shop, “If you do, it’ll poison you! I told you, I had to check!” Ga-yeong looked around them, distressed, as her father continued to stumble out to the sidewalk in a coughing fit.
“Appa, what do we do?!” She asked, tugging on his arm, still holding that drink–
“Here, give it to me– I’ll get rid of it,” Gi-hun said, voice strained. He let go of her arm to motion for the cup, and quickly, Ga-yeong gave him the drink.
He smiled.
Gi-hun straightened up once it was in his grasp, taking in a deep breath to steady his breathing. Suddenly, he wasn’t coughing anymore– and suddenly, he was right back to sipping on the Pink Drink. It really was pretty sour, sugary too, he wasn’t sure how Ga-yeong could drink this every morning. Should she be drinking this every morning? He continued to walk down the sidewalk in the direction of his car, but he didn’t hear little footsteps following behind him. Gi-hun turned on his heel, raising his brows to see that Ga-yeong had stopped walking. The previously worried look was now a set of furrowed brows with parted lips. His smile stretched across his face.
“This is pretty good, isn’t it?”
“Give me my drink!”
Gi-hun let out a loud laugh as the girl ran right up to him and was all but climbing him to get her drink back from him. He eventually gave it up, but only after making her trail after him to the street corner.
The process of getting into the car and dividing the food between the two of them was quick– a practiced routine they’ve developed over the months. Once Gi-hun was sure that Ga-yeong shouldn’t be able to spill something on her uniform, he was buckling himself in and sneaking one last bite of his donut.
“Why do you think he wasn’t on his phone, Appa?”
“Huh? Who?”
“The suitcase guy. He wasn’t on his phone until after we got there.”
“Hm,” Gi-hun wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand, “Maybe the person that calls him all the time was late to call him.”
“But they’re never late.”
“Well, they were this morning, weren’t they?” Gi-hun said, and he looked at the little girl. Ga-yeong hummed thoughtfully. She took a bite out of the tart she had in hand.
“Maybe they’re having someone else call him now.” She said.
“Maybe they are.”
They still had another thirty minutes until Ga-yeong needed to be in class.
“What do you think they talk about?” She asked. Gi-hun frowned, just slightly more focused on oncoming traffic as he tried to pull out of the parking spot.
“Hmm . . . You could ask him tomorrow, couldn’t you?”
“No.”
“Well why not?”
If these damn cars could get out of the way–
“I don’t know him, Appa.”
“You’ve had like, twenty different chances to say hi, Ga-yeong-ah,” Gi-hun finally was able to back out, “Do you want me to ask him? I’ll ask him tomorrow–”
“No!”
—
The car ride didn’t feel like thirty minutes. It never really did, Gi-hun has found.
“Did you get all the crumbs off?”
“I didn’t have any crumbs on me!”
“Spin around, let me see,” Gi-hun was shoving all of their trash into the brown bag as Ga-yeong was straightening out her uniform for the umpteenth time beside the car. She did a fast spin, letting out a loud huff as she patted down her shirt.
“Nothing!”
“Alright, alright!” Gi-hun tossed the bag into the floorboard, “You got everything? I’m going to be busy today, I can’t come back if you forget your pencil, or something.”
Ga-yeong did a once over of the things she was carrying. Her backpack on her back, the spiral notebook in hand– she gave him a quick, confident nod. He let out a small laugh, reaching to pat her shoulder.
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow morning, okay?”
Ga-yeong blinked.
“Can you pick me up, Appa?”
“Ah, that’s Eomma’s job, baby,” Gi-hun said. The genuine question and realization on her face made his heart twist in his chest– “But I’ll see you tomorrow, I promise.”
Ga-yeong stood there for a second, before putting her notebook on the seat and climbing back into the car.
“Hey, you’re going to be late–”
Gi-hun grunted when she pulled him into a tight hug around his neck. He smiled once again, hugging her back just a little bit tighter, planting a kiss on the side of her head.
“You have a good day at school, okay?”
“Okay.”
And she was off.
Gi-hun flopped back into his seat as the passenger door was shut, letting out a heavy sigh while the tasks for the day came to him. As he turned the car back on, and Ga-yeong disappeared behind glass doors, he was suddenly overwhelmed.
There were still things he needed to move out of their apartment. Or rather, Eun-ji’s apartment. So whether he liked it or not, he had to interact with her and hope it didn’t end in a yelling match. But, given how many times his phone had gone off in the past hour, he didn’t think it was going to be avoidable today.
Eun-ji: are you getting her to school?
Eun-ji: if you go to the cafe don’t get her anything sugary
Eun-ji: she’s been eating too much sugar
Eun-ji: Gi-hun
He frowned.
Eun-ji: did you get her to school alright?
Eun-ji: she was late three times last week if I get another call from her teacher about her being late you’re not dropping her off anymore
“Oh my god,” Gi-hun groaned, throwing his phone into the passenger seat as he finally pulled out of the drop off lane.
Get his things. Groceries. His moms groceries. What the hell else did he have to do today? He had to pay off some bills too, but that might have to wait until tomorrow. He stared at the car in front of him. He really didn’t want to get out.
Gi-hun was sitting in the parking garage of Eun-ji’s apartment. What used to be his apartment. He only had a few boxes left that Eun-ji had found, so this trip should be relatively quick, but that woman sent five more texts while he was driving– he didn’t think it was going to be quick.
He let out a loud sigh. He was going to get yelled at either way at this point, might as well get it over with.
He grabbed his phone, tucking it in his jacket pocket while pulling out a pack of cigarettes. An old habit coming to bite him in the ass. He had, temporarily, managed to quit these things when Ga-yeong was about two. He would’ve liked to stop earlier than that, but between Eun-ji’s distrust the second Gi-hun came home, and the smell of soot stuck in his nose, he had needed something to still shaking hands. Right now, the cigarette he stuck between his lips was serving the same purpose. He struck the lighter a few times until it finally caught.
He wasn’t scared of Eun-ji, but the sense of dread you got when walking into an unfamiliar, dark room always seemed to fill him when he had to meet with her. Whether it was to pick Ga-yeong up in the morning, or going to court to finalize paperwork, he never knew how she was going to actually be.
He got out of the car, double checking that it was locked before hurrying to the elevator. He could probably make this one trip, if he was lucky. But, two trips wouldn’t be too horrible. He didn’t imagine she would want to talk to him that long.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
A strike of agitation shot through him. He didn’t want to read his texts. Whatever she sent him, he’s probably going to hear the second he gets through the door, so what was the point? He wasn’t going to get himself worked up just because she was getting herself worked up.
He took a couple more drags from his cigarette as he waited for the elevator to descend, stubbing it and slipping it back into the pack as the doors opened in front of him. And as he stepped on, he took his phone out of his pocket.
Gi-hun wasn’t going to get himself worked up.
He pressed the button for the fifth floor, before hitting the button to close the elevator doors several times.
For all he knew, someone else was texting him. Or it was a notification for another app, not that he had many other apps on his phone.
The doors slid shut, and the elevator began to rise.
Gi-hun looked down at his phone– to be pleasantly surprised. It was the weather app. Asides from the current temperature, there was a warning for incoming thunderstorms during the weekend. He grunted, going to press the notification–
Eun-ji: have you dropped ga-yeong off yet?
“Shit– this woman!”
—
“Can’t you answer your phone?”
“I was driving.”
“And you couldn’t look at your phone once? All you had to say was that you dropped her off.”
Gi-hun walked past Eun-ji the second the apartment door opened, eyes already focused on the boxes he needed to grab. A pressure began to form behind his eyes and his hands were itching– he needed to grab his things and go.
“Did you even see the texts about the café? If you’re going to take her to that café then don’t let her fill up on junk food,” Eun-ji continued, following him through the living room, “I pack her breakfast for a reason.” It was that accusatory tone. Was it going to be like this for the next ten years– any time he tried to take care of their daughter?
“Yeah, and she eats it, Eun-ji. Has she ever come home with a full lunch box?” Gi-hun, despite himself, matched her tone. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to hide the annoyance that was making his head throb. There were only three boxes he needed to grab though, and they weren’t that big. If he remembered what she told him before, it was a mix of keepsakes and old work books that he honestly needed to throw away, “She wasn’t even late, if you’re so worried about it, call the school.”
“I shouldn’t need to worry about it!” She said– Gi-hun furrowed his brow.
“Then don’t!”
“I wouldn’t, if you’d answer your fucking phone!”
“Look,” Gi-hun huffed, leaning over to pick up the boxes all at once. It wasn’t like she was going to help him take these down, anyways, “I’m trying to spend as much time with her as I can, okay? I’m not trying to be glued to my phone just so I can answer your two hundred fucking texts!” He grunted as he pulled back up with the boxes. They were a bit heavier than he expected– but he didn’t give Eun-ji a chance to respond, “And what’s with the sudden fixation on junk food? You can’t just change what she eats on a whim just because your new boyfriend is a doctor!”
Eun-ji scoffed, looking insulted, “That isn’t why–”
“Then why else is it?” Gi-hun adjusted his grip on the boxes, once again pushing past her, “It’s all you ever talk about now–”
“Because you just feed her junk food, Gi-hun,” She shot back, “It’s one thing if it was every now and then, but it’s any time you pick her up!”
He just needed to get his groceries after this.
Gi-hun made it to the door that was slowly drifting shut, hooking his foot on it to swing it back open, with Eun-ji still trailing behind him.
“Can you just answer me?” Eun-ji asked.
“What do you even want me to say?”
“Just work with me–”
“I’ve been trying!”
His voice was louder than it should’ve been. The boxes in his hands were getting heavier with every passing second, and the move to the hallway outside the apartment seemed to make things so much louder.
He turned to her this time. Her face was pink, lips settled in a small frown as she stared back at him from the door.
“I’m trying to spend time with her, too.” Gi-hun added, voice wobbling in his attempt to bring himself back down. His heart was thumping harshly against his chest, making it all the more impossible to steady his breathing.
He didn’t think it would ever get to this point. There was a time where clashes like this were a figment of the imagination, something that didn’t seem possible with Eun-ji. When they were setting their life up in those early years, they had a plan for Ga-yeong, for themselves too, with every little detail ironed out down to the second. Whether or not it was even the topic of what food she ate, something so trivial had already been agreed on. But now it seemed there was no middle ground, no clear right or wrong when it came to them anymore.
Eun-ji stared at him, adjusting her jaw as a million thoughts seemed to be churning behind her eyes.
Gi-hun flexed his fingers underneath the boxes, giving her a brief, stuttering bow of his head, “. . . I’ll pick her up tomorrow.”
“For Oh Mal-soon?”
Gi-hun nodded quickly, “Mm! Oh Mal-soon, my mom called it in this morning.” He was struggling with the mixture of cards and receipts crammed in his wallet as he stood before the shop. His mom had told him to use the blue card before he left to get Ga-yeong– but the problem was that he had three different blue cards, “She said to be here by twelve, I’m a little early.”
“You’re a lot early!” The woman behind the shop counter looked up at him with raised brows. While she stood shorter than him, she by no means looked frail– though he had to wonder if that was because of the way she was swinging around a knife while holding a partially flayed fish. “Ah, the way she had been talking made it sound like you were going to be two hours late, not two hours early!” He scoffed– twisting his wrist to look at his watch. 10:23 AM. “Well it doesn’t matter, I already have everything ready. Let me get it bagged for you, hm?”
Gi-hun grunted back with another nod.
He really needed to empty his wallet.
Another couple of receipts and random won bills later, he found the card his mom might be talking about. Technically, he shouldn’t have this card on him, and technically his mom didn’t want him to have this card. But between her insisting he use it to buy fish and him happening to already have it in his wallet, he had the card on him.
“How is Mal-soon, hm? And I heard she has a granddaughter– why do I never see her down here?”
Gi-hun hummed as he plucked the card out of his wallet.
“My mom is fine– have you really not met Ga-yeong-ie?” He stuffed his wallet in his back pocket as he spoke. Given he really couldn’t remember her name right now, maybe it wasn’t so much of a surprise that she hasn’t met Ga-yeong. “My mom used to watch her all of the time, she never brought her to the market with her?”
“Oh, no,” The woman had walked further into the shop, grabbing an assortment of chopped fish and squid. Gi-hun squinted. He would have dropped every single one of those fish if he started grabbing them like she was, “I don’t blame her, she already spends so much time here selling, I doubt she’d want her granddaughter to get swept up in the crowds. It would still be nice to see the kid, though! Your mom never tells me a thing about her life– except the–” She motioned towards him with a handful of fish, “–running late issues.”
“Aish– I’m not always late!”
“Obviously not!”
Gi-hun scoffed out laughter this time.
Of the few times he’s interacted with this woman, she always had a wide smile on her face. Even when he was only passing by– whether he was running from something or simply walking home –she’d be smiling ear to ear while chattering on with the customers standing before her shop. He fiddled with the card in his hand as the sign above them caught his attention. Sang-woo’s Fish Shop.
“Hey, Ahjumma,” Gi-hun said. She grunted as she pulled out plastic bags to wrap the fish in, “Who’s this Sang-woo you’re working under?” This time she laughed.
“Sang-woo is my son! Cho Sang-woo,” She kept her eyes on the fish she was bundling together as she talked, “I keep a picture of him up front, look.” Gi-hun blinked and nodded, scanning the front of the shop until his eyes landed on a picture frame. The second he caught it, he trotted right up to it, leaning in to make out the picture of the woman standing next to a tall man. In the picture she’s not quite as grey, but that smile is just the same– a matching grin to the man dressed in a graduation gown and cap.
“You just got onto me for not bringing my daughter up here, but I don’t think I’ve seen this man here once!” Gi-hun said, pointing to the picture. The woman shook her head with another laugh. “Really, I mean it!” Though, that wasn’t to say the man was unfamiliar. In fact he seemed too familiar– but he didn’t know a Cho Sang-woo.
“Ah, that’s because he’s too busy with work, Gi-hun-ah–” Oh, so she knows his name. He kind of feels like a dick now, “He’s all the way in Seoul. Those big cities always keep people away from home.”
He couldn’t quite place what made him look familiar. His hair was covered by his cap, his glasses generic for the most part– really, he looked like any other student that clung to their textbook in school. Cho Sang-woo. Gi-hun furrowed his brows.
“Shit, I make the drive to Seoul every day for Ga-yeong, he can’t make it down here for you?”
A bag of fish plopped onto the counter right next to him.
“Jobs you get with an SNU diploma don’t let you have that kind of free time.”
Gi-hun practically jumped away from the picture frame– looking at the woman with wide eyes. “SNU? Your kid went to SNU?” She was beaming.
“He graduated top of his class too, for business. They even have him flying in and out of the country for everything he does!” She held up her hand palm up, “Your card.”
Now he was really trying to figure out why he recognized the guy. She took the blue card from him gleefully. When he was in school, he might have had decent grades, but nowhere near decent enough to get into a school like SNU– no matter how much his mother yelled at him for it. In all honesty, he never wanted to go to a place like that, but he couldn’t deny the amount of work it took to even get through the door.
He didn’t think he knew a single person that went to SNU from his high school years. Not even his peers in the military talked about something like that– and the people aiming for SNU didn’t tend to hide that fact. So why did this picture seem to ring a bell?
“Ahjumma, did you raise him here? What school did he go to before that?” He asked. She was typing into her register when he did– and for once seemed to look a little flustered.
“Oh no, we used to live all the way out in the middle of nowhere before we reached Ssangmundong, and by then he was already applying to colleges.” The receipt printed, “He probably only had five classmates growing up, it was such a small town!”
So he definitely didn’t know him. Gi-hun hummed.
“Tell your mother to come by here more often, hm, Gi-hun-ah?” The woman added. She placed the card and receipt in his hand, pushing the bag towards him, “And bring your Ga-yeong along next time.”
“Yeah, of course–” Gi-hun said, taking the bag. But he didn’t back away quite yet. Rather, he went right back to staring the picture down, looking over every little feature on the man that might jog his memory.
He definitely knows this guy.
“He’s handsome isn’t he?” The woman said.
“Yeah, he is.”
But where the hell has he met him?