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In-ho finished applying his bedtime products, the same routine he had followed for over two decades.
The house was very quiet; now all that could be heard was Gi-hun leafing through his latest book and the tinkling of In-ho's bottles, which he kept in the same place.
The reflection in the mirror revealed hair that already had gray spots, which he didn't mind dyeing. The same disciplined routine had preserved his skin over the years, with few extra wrinkles and no blemishes, only the dark circles under his eyes, which, despite being smaller since Gi-hun, he had never been able to get rid of. In his eyes, however, there was an experienced weariness that came with the calmness of age. Not exasperated, just old.
Returning to the bedroom, already dressed for bed, he smiled as he admired Gi-hun. He was waiting for him, sitting with his back against the headboard, a book open on his lap, and reading glasses with thin frames that framed his face divinely. In his hair, which was appropriately long, the gray strands among the black ones were more noticeable, bringing him happiness when he woke up in the morning, a vivid mark of time. On his olive skin, the wrinkles were also minimal, little more than a few lines on his forehead and some softer ones at the corners of his eyes, few additions since his 50s. An ethereal beauty that, regardless of the years, In-ho could not stop admiring.
With experience, In-ho sat on the bed, setting the alarm for 15 minutes later than usual. Dinner took longer today.
"In-ho, we need to talk," he heard the low voice sound as he put the booklet and glasses away on the dresser next to him.
"Sure, Jagiya." Maybe he wanted to know more about Ga-yeong? It was understandable, she had given birth to a beautiful girl last month, Gi-hun was grateful for every photo. "What do you want to talk about?"
Grunts escaped In-ho's lips as he settled on his side of the bed. His back was no longer the same, and no amount of exercise would ever bring it back. He snuggled close to Gi-hun, kissing the taller man's long neck, the distinctive scent that was so purely his. He felt the other's rapid pulse beneath his lips.
"Can you make me a promise?"
In-ho took a moment to respond, and smiled slightly as he felt Gi-hun swallow hard. But he pulled away, his smile deliberately affectionate.
"It depends on what you're going to ask me." His tone was humorous, despite his distrust of his husband's tension; he didn't want any stress at this time of night. His eyes quickly scanned his body, trying to pick up other signs, before returning to his eyes as he continued to speak.
"It's not impossible." Despite this statement, Gi-hun did not look at him. His eyes were downcast, on his hands that caressed each other in a form of comfort, a habit he had acquired over the years when the isolation was too much and he did not feel he could seek comfort in In-ho. Bad sign. "But please listen to me carefully."
He was stalling.
"All right. What is it?"
"Can you promise me that you won't abandon me, but rather kill me painlessly when I am no longer useful?"
Of all the things In-ho expected to hear, nothing prepared him for this request. His usual calm shattered into a thousand pieces on the bed. In-ho felt some shards cut his face and chest, and dread descended into his stomach, along with cold anger. The scene inevitably flashed before his eyes, not just this one, but all the times Gi-hun had almost died because of something stupid, whether it was games or suicide attempts for the same reason. He remembered how he had to secure a safe house for him in the early years. He remembered when he almost lost him even under surveillance.
He imagined Gi-hun dying now, by his own hands. And the blood in his veins seemed to freeze.
His hands trembled slightly from the adrenaline that rushed through his body with the hypothetical scenario. It was vivid and distant at the same time, like a dream he had years ago. Fear and anger gnawed at his insides, warning of imminent danger, as if he were about to lose him at that very moment. As if Gi-hun himself were not safe, lying in his bed, looking at him with sad and uncertain eyes, asking to die.
His hands trembled slightly from the adrenaline rushing through his body at the hypothetical scenario. It was vivid and distant at the same time, like a dream he had years ago. Fear and anger gnawed at his insides, warning him of imminent danger, as if he were about to lose him at that very moment. As if Gi-hun himself was not safe, lying in his bed, looking at him with sad and uncertain eyes, asking to die.
Those eyes did not look at him with guilt, just a soft glimmer of fear—of telling, not of the idea. For that, they were calm, as if asking for a specific lunch tomorrow. As if they had already decided.
"No."
"Listen to me first."
"You're not going to die." His voice came out harsher than expected, and the hand that reached out to touch him recoiled, increasing his fury. He had to restrain himself. He would hurt Gi-hun severely if he touched him now.
"I will. Everyone does, someday." His voice was lower, as if he could calm In-ho himself. That frightened look that he had thought had disappeared from that beautiful face years ago returned, and it tore at his heart, his love. The blood that had been frozen now flowed fast, hot, activating his whole body. "In-ho, I'm already old..."
"You're not even 70." he interrupted, his voice still stern, but Gi-hun held his gaze for a few seconds with heartbreaking sadness before sighing and turning his head forward, leaning against the padded headboard. A long sigh escaped him, and Gi-hun did indeed seem to have aged a few years before his eyes.
"It's been years, In-ho." After a moment of silence, which gave him false hope that the conversation was over, Gi-hun spoke again. "It's been many years."
This time, he didn't interrupt, fear gradually taking hold of his nervous system, a visceral fear he never thought he would feel. Not again. Not of losing Gi-hun. Not after everything he had done to have him.
"You stayed with me in the end. Okay. I've already accepted that I'm not going to get rid of you." A soft smile appeared, and to In-ho, it seemed like a sentence. "But not the other way around." And those eyes found him again, a weariness and sadness of more than a lifetime present.
"I'm no longer young or handsome, In-ho. It's been over a decade, I no longer have any value as a trophy to be kept. There is no more sensuality in me." No. "I don't know why you still keep me, or how long it will last. It's been months since you took me to bed, and I understand." No. "There's no fun in it now. You won. You got what you wanted, and you enjoyed it until the trophy rusted. You dominated your most controversial and stubborn player, and enjoyed long years with him. But there's no... " a deep sigh, the gaze was averted. No. No. No. No. "There's no reason to keep me."
"Gi-hun, be quiet."
"What I'm asking for isn't for now, I figured you'd react like this. It's only for when..."
"Shut up."
"When you decide it's not worth it anymore. I just ask that you don't abandon me by the side of the road again, you don't even have to warn me, just do the job while I'm sleeping and..."
"I told you to shut up!"
His hand punched right next to Gi-hun's head, a thud that even the padding couldn't muffle. Those doe eyes dared to widen only initially, with a breath of fear, before exhaling and relaxing his body. In-ho stood up, becoming taller, any pain in his old body silenced by adrenaline.
He didn't lift Gi-hun's head, but he got close enough to whisper slowly and softly, in the same threatening tone he had stopped using in everyday life when he realized there was no longer any reason for it. The same tone from the early years, when he broke Gi-hun day after day. The same tone that made him tremble just hearing it, even if it wasn't directed at him.
But now, it was.
"None of that will happen. You're not leaving, and you're not going to die. I won't let you," he said slowly, as if to a child. "I don't want to hear about it anymore."
It took a second longer before he moved away, digesting his husband's reaction. Gi-hun didn't lift his head, and In-ho didn't want to see those tearful eyes. The intense trembling was sign enough.
With a movement that was no longer so fluid, he got off Gi-hun, returning to his own side of the bed with a long sigh. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, the stress of the argument still present.
He turned his back on an immobile Gi-hun, turned off the lamp, and tried to fall asleep.
It took a while before he felt the body next to him also lie down gently.
He woke up in a cold sweat, his body damp and warm with perspiration, yet feeling absurdly cold. A nightmare, something about losing Gi-hun, no doubt. He briefly remembers seeing him hanging like one of the rebellious players in his 2015 games—judging by the clothes he was wearing—and In-ho, indifferent, closed his open eyes, as he did with Il-nam.
He hadn't moved since he fell asleep, and when he did, his movements were tense and slow, a deep breath to reduce the terror that penetrated every bone. A few gasps later, he was calm enough to remember to wrap himself properly in the sheet and turn over in bed.
In the darkness of the room—what time in the early morning could it be?—he groped for Gi-hun's slender body, regretting not having held him while he slept. His hand found only the cold sheets, which followed his fingers to the back of his neck in a terrifying shiver.
He ignored any usual pain as he got up and left the room.
"Gi-hun?" Him voice conveyed a false calm. On any other day, his absence would have led him to search the house for him, probably finding him making some tea to help him sleep, or perhaps even crocheting something on longer nights.
But not tonight. Not after the conversation they had.
The house was dark, without any lighting. Rain clouds covered the moon, and in the distance, low but continuous thunder could be heard. The heater didn't even seem to be on, and yet he insisted on searching the house for him.
"Gi-hun!"
"I'm here, In-ho."
With a distant lightning bolt faintly illuminating the room, he noticed the figure sitting in the armchair next to In-ho's, the same one from the island. His eyes adjusted enough to make out the silhouette in the darkness, and he approached with quick steps. He grabbed Gi-hun's face, analyzing him with a desperate calm, noticeable only by his trembling hands. He needed to be sure it was really him, Seong Gi-hun.
The dark eyes looked at him passively. There was something in those familiar eyes that hurt something that decades ago In-ho called a heart. In-ho's hands moved down from his cheeks to his neck, shoulders, wrists, chest, stomach, thighs, and feet, a necessary check to calm his racing heart.
"Why aren't you in bed?" His voice sounded harsher than he intended as he rose from his crouched position and looked at him gravely. He noticed Gi-hun's discomfort, his mouth a thin line after he swallowed hard and adjusted his posture.
"I couldn't sleep." The answer, however, did not show the discomfort noticeable in his movements, but rather routine calm. "I preferred to leave the room and wait for sleep to come."
The silence between them was broken only by the increasingly intense rain and the distant thunder, which was getting closer and closer. Neither of them looked away for a while; it seemed like hours, but it was probably only minutes. But then, with In-ho's peripheral vision already accustomed to the darkness, he noticed a gun on the small table next to the armchairs.
Gi-hun was too slow to grab it.
"What is this?" He no longer cared if his voice sounded exactly like it did years ago, because at that moment he wanted to hurt Gi-hun. Maybe he should bring back some old measures, if Gi-hun's behavior would also return.
"It's unloaded," Gi-hun stammered, unable to form a sentence. His pupils trembled with fear, probably knowing where In-ho's mind was going. "It's unloaded, I swear. I wasn't going to try anything."
In-ho maintained eye contact as he opened the compartment. The anger bubbling in his gut tempted him to hurt Gi-hun with the wait, even though his hands trembled just imagining finding a single bullet there.
Empty. There was nothing. Unloaded. He held back a sigh of relief, he wouldn't lose his composure.
"And why would you need that?"
More silence followed. Gi-hun seemed ashamed, emotional. There was a sublime fragility, like a snowflake that had fallen into In-ho's hands and could melt at any moment.
"I don't know... I just needed something. I just wanted anything that would make me feel safe."
"Hmm." In-ho chose to believe the version that would allow him to sleep tonight. And yet, the gun was in his hand. "Let's go back to the room." It wasn't a request.
"Did you think about what I asked?"
Gi-hun's audacity in repeating the subject when In-ho made it clear he didn't want it would have earned him a slap in the past. Maybe he should go back to that. Gi-hun was too confident in In-ho's comfort and affection; he needed to understand his place again.
He took a deep breath; the stress combined with lack of sleep was affecting his decision-making ability. Tomorrow he could think about it better.
"Gi-hun." One last warning before pointing to the room.
And yet, he didn't move. Gi-hun remained seated. His eyes met In-ho's, and there was the same stubborn spark that had once made him fall in love with that man.
"In-ho." The man slowly got up and touched In-ho's wrist, caressing it gently before holding his hand. The difference always surprised him, even after so many years.
He allowed it, his posture relaxing with a sigh that took away some of the tension. His hand was brought to Gi-hun's face, resting on his soft cheek, full of so many years of abundance. The warm skin was a pleasant contrast to his cold hands, and if it bothered Gi-hun, he didn't show it. His thumb caressed his cheekbone, and he felt a soft kiss on his knuckles. The docile submission enchanted him, the memory of the stubborn hero still vivid in his mind.
"I can't live without you," he thought the statement had come out of his mouth without realizing it, an inconsistent statement like so many others. But the voice that came out was Gi-hun's. "After so many years, I could never be alone. You won. I won't get rid of you." The voice continued, low, breathing affected as if it were difficult to speak. "But you can get rid of me."
"That won't happen."
But Gi-hun fell silent with the cut in his speech. In-ho watched, his face stern as a warning, despite the hollow that was once his heart twisting in agony. Warm tears touched his fingers.
"I was already 50 when you took me. And even so, you insisted on staying with me. You took me to bed every day, more than once a day. You talked to me like a long-time husband, not a prisoner. You disciplined me, ordered me around, and corrected any behavior you didn't like, so that I would be your perfect prize."
Like polishing a trophy day after day.
"But..." Gi-hun continued, his gaze still not meeting his. "I'm old now. Many years have passed. I am no longer attractive enough for you to keep by your side. And there is no merit in keeping an old prize, an old winner who once played the hero and drew attention for it."
"Gi-hun..." His voice should have sounded like a warning, but it came out low, almost painful.
"You lived what you had to live with me." Finally, those familiar eyes found him. A ray of light illuminated the tears that were streaming down his face. There was a strange, weak, sad smile that softened the face that had woken up together for almost two decades. "You fucked me, disciplined me, molded my behavior to what you wanted. We talked, we talked a lot. We know every part of each other, I have theoretical material to argue against you nowadays." A weak laugh, which came out more like a sob. "But it's near the end. I don't know exactly when, but it is. And all I ask..."
"I already told you I don't want to talk about this."
His heart was pounding, a mixture of feelings. He didn't know if he wanted to cry, hit him, or kiss him.
"All I ask is that when the time comes, when you wake up and realize that it no longer makes sense..."
"Never-"
"Kill me."
The interruption was like a chemical bomb in In-ho's gut, corroding him. The weight of the situation fell on his shoulders like lead sand, drowning him quickly.
Why wasn't there the same desperate suicidal desire as before, no more continuous attempts and failures in extreme situations. There was a desire for an end for In-ho. For seeing no meaning in a life without him. For assuming that one day In-ho would no longer desire him.
Because of a mocking disbelief in everything he had done to have him by his side.
The other hand grabbed Gi-hun's face and the thumbs caressed those tears. Not drying them, but spreading them across those soft cheeks, few wrinkles in all that time.
"I will never leave you," he began, his voice low and firm, as it had been years ago in the games. "You're not going anywhere. You are entirely mine, to stay by my side until the end of our days." More tears fell from Gi-hun's eyes, but he didn't care. "We'll have sex every day. We'll read more books together. Cook together more often. We'll dance more often. Travel more often." When did your breathing become so uneven? "I'll still correct you many times and punish you if necessary. I'll make sure every day that you never leave, that you'll always be waiting for me in bed, satisfied and healthy after a long day."
Gi-hun's sobs flooded the room like catastrophic thunder that seemed to shake the house. There was an inexplicable pain, as if it came from a long-guarded interior, floodgates wide open to horror. Horror that In-ho did not know. He would never abandon him.
Both hands held In-ho's on his cheeks, as if In-ho would evaporate if he let go.
As if he were the one who wanted to leave.
Minutes passed with Gi-hun's sobs, gasping for breath amid his crying. The exhaustion of that night weighed heavily on his bones. He longed only for his bed and the warm comfort of a loved one's body next to his.
In-ho's gaze went to the liquor cabinet. He pondered for just a few seconds before moving forward.
He ignored Gi-hun's outstretched hand as he walked away, guided by exhaustion. He grabbed the dusty melatonin hidden between some bottles and returned to his beloved, who looked at him with the same pleading eyes that had left him.
"Open your mouth."
This time, the order was obeyed. Gi-hun opened his mouth, his tongue sticking out in a pornographic way that made In-ho smile. Muscle memory, probably.
A few drops were dripped with the dropper. The thunder rumbled, but the rain was stronger and louder.
"Come on, get into bed."
Gi-hun looked at him one last time, his gaze fixed, exuding his stubbornness about that argument. But the fatigue in his features was also evident, as if he were a few years older. In-ho did not look away, but he was not severe this time, just calm, as if he knew the end of it all.
Slowly and with a few bones cracking, he got up. In-ho was quick to support him.
A few years earlier, he wouldn't have hesitated to carry Gi-hun. And although he could still do so without any problems, he didn't trust either of them to sleep through it. He supported him on his shoulder and guided him slowly to the bedroom, the melatonin already taking effect on his body.
He laid them both on the bed and covered them with the sheet. This time, he clung to Gi-hun, with one arm around his waist and one leg over his. Under the blanket, the other body was warm, warmer than the rain pouring down outside.
"In-ho..."
"Hm?" It was a surprise that Gi-hun was still awake.
"I want to move." His voice was slurred and sly, a tone that only appeared when he was drunk or very sleepy, and In-ho appreciated it properly.
"We'll talk tomorrow."
His heart beat fast as the night unfolded, each word hammered like a nail into his rib cage. But exhaustion overcame his senses, especially when he felt Gi-hun's light breath on his neck.
It didn't matter what Gi-hun thought. He belonged to In-ho to rule. He would never let him go, or trade him for anyone else, regardless of the variable. He would never promise his husband something he couldn't deliver.
Maybe a change would really do they good.