Chapter Text
The first time it happened; it was purely accidental.
The sun was setting over Southern Korea, and another day of work had ended. Junho had slipped away from the crew to the rooftop of The Pink Motel, his ability to socialise diminishing the longer he spent amongst those walls.
It wasn’t like he disliked the guys —he just found meaningless chatter over drinks tiring. He lit a cigarette and took a long drag, finding solace in the way it stung his throat. He wouldn’t say he had a serious addiction; he could stop if he really wanted to, he just used them to take his mind off things.
Junho had almost five minutes alone before he heard the sound of footsteps echoing in the stairwell. A sigh escaped his lips. He dreaded what was to come. He weighed his options. He could either:
1. Ignore them if they strung up a conversation.
2. Head inside immediately.
The latter would probably hurt their feelings, and Junho wanted to avoid that. Yes, he was antisocial but he was not a dick.
Commander Kim was the person joining him on the rooftop. Brows high were the only sign that he was surprised to see someone inhabiting the space but he didn’t back down. He stood a meter or so away from Junho and lit his own cigarette.
Junho exhaled and glanced at the man next to him. He was thankful for the silence but knew that eventually a conversation would start. That’s what respectable people did; they greeted others and talked about the weather.
As if on command, Kim turned his head to look at Junho.
“I didn’t know you smoked.” He spoke.
Junho didn’t want to talk about why he had started using it to cope in the first place. “Surprise, I do.” He said bitterly.
Kim watched him quietly, sensing a large iceberg underneath his remark. He raised a brow, lips quirked up. “I never suggested that you had an addiction.”
Junho glared at the man across from him. “Good, because I don’t.” He replied, a twinge of defensiveness in his tone.
Kim said nothing else. Instead, he brought the cigarette to his lips and turned his head away from Junho so that he was looking out to the street. They stood in silence as the sun set over the horizon, painting the sky in shades of tangerine and sienna.
Junho pondered his life. He thought about the things he had done and the things he was going to do in the upcoming days.
He was going to find that island.
He was going to find his brother.
He knew that Inho was somewhere across the ocean, preparing deathly games. Games that Gihun was entering. Games that Junho had seen. Suddenly, He was aware that he had hundreds of things to do.
He had no time to spend smoking and watching the sun fade.
He needed to use his time better.
Junho let the cigarette fall to the ground, a stream of smoke trailing. He used the butt of his boots to put out the last of the surviving flame.
Junho took long strides towards the stairwell, a new rush of motivation flowing through him. Kim did not turn around as Junho pushed the metal door open. And he did not turn around as Junho paused to say, “Goodnight, Kim.”
But Kim did echo his words. “Goodnight, Junho”