Work Text:
For Kwak Jekang, his withdrawals start late into the night.
The primary pre-symptomatic response, as he likes to call it, is the fit of nightmares which creeps into his REM sleep and clutches into the depths of his brain. Over and over in the throes of his sleepless nights, he sees the last time those golden eyes ever looked at him before they were swept away forever. The wry smile which lingers in his memory, untouched and unable to ever be touched.
Does he regret it? Of course not. Kwak Jekang is not the sort of person who regrets. So why does he feel a twinge of loss? A slight twist of grief, which messes with his heart rate and makes him want to clutch his chest and double over, as if he were really in pain? Kwak Jekang does not feel any sort of pain, loss, or grief. This is simply ridiculous.
Yet every night, without fail, he is torn awake in agony. He considers visiting the Fox Counselling Room, not for contamination, but for actual therapy, but decides he would rather take it to the grave. It’s just a medical symptom - a symptom can be stopped by treating the underlying cause, right? Right. He’s a scientist. He knows this. Everything is perfectly logical and can be solved with a series of correct treatments given he knows the diagnosis.
The diagnosis? It’s grief. Plain and simple, he feels grief. Why does he feel grief over a Field Employee? They die off all the time. Jekang sends them to their deaths all the time! And he doesn’t ever feel grief. But that Team Leader, with the wolf mask, the sly, arrogant personality, and the thoughtful, soft words, and the tender touch which always held on too long, it plagued his mind like a dead lover. Maybe to the brain of Kwak Jekang, he was a dead lover. Whatever it was, it needed to stop right now.
….But he really does miss the B Team Leader. And one night, Jekang gives in.
He rummages through the drawers of the apartment which B Team Leader spent far too long in. Tears out the clothes folded neatly in stacks, one by one, until he reaches the bottom of the drawer and breathes heavily, taking out a folded linen dress shirt. A name has been washed out of the tag at the back of the collar, but even so, he knows exactly whose shirt this is.
Jekang allows himself a moment of weakness. He holds up the dress shirt and presses it against his flushed cheeks, letting the fabric mould to the shape of his face. His glasses are knocked slightly off his nosebridge, but he doesn’t care. He needs the touch, craves it like an addict.
A thought suddenly strikes - perfume. The B Team Leader used to wear perfume. He’d left a bottle in Jekang’s bathroom.
“Jekang-ah, you should take more pride in your appearance.”
“What? Don’t be silly. Why would I need to dress up for work?”
“Haha, I can’t let my junior go out looking homeless! Here, I’ll lend you this.”
The B Team Leader extended a bottle toward Jekang, playfully dangling it in front of his glasses-less face. He leaned against the bathroom wall. The researcher squinted slightly, unable to read the label.
“...What’s this? Perfume? You know I don’t wear perfume.”
“Why not try it? It’s the one I use. We can smell the same, wouldn’t you like that?”
“The one you wear? It’s so sweet…. Whatever, just leave it on the shelf.”
An affectionate sigh was heard from the black-haired Field Employee.
“Alright, Jekang-ah.”
Jekang stumbles to the bathroom, still holding the dress shirt. It’s 3am and he feels like he’s going to be suffering from heart palpitations at this rate. He hazily registers the bottles of Advil being pushed off the shelf as he reaches for the perfume bottle, his hands shaking. They almost shake too much to uncap it - but Jekang would rather die than break the bottle by accident.
He haphazardly sprays several shots of the sickeningly sweet perfume into the front of the fabric, before collapsing against the sink and sliding downward, his legs finally giving out. It feels like his heart is about to be ripped out. He takes a deep inhale of the perfume on the clothing, and for a moment, it feels like the B Team Leader really is in the room.
Gingerly, he brings it back to his bed, pulls over the covers, and wraps it around his pillow. He can sleep without a pillow tonight. Jekang wraps his arms around the soft cushion, pressing his face into the perfumed dress shirt, and for a moment, his heart stops aching so much. For a moment, B Team Leader is in his bed, and he's holding onto something warm, the forlorn scent filling his brain which has since been frazzled by loneliness.
“Is it morning already? Haah… I've got to go into work.”
A muffled whine of protest was heard under the covers.
“Jekang-ah, can't you call in sick for one day?”
“Hey, you need to work too. We work at the same company…”
“Hey, hey, don't get up- Hey… you're so mean to your senior.”
“If you're not going to go to work, I am. Get up!”
The researcher flung the covers off. The B Team Leader winced at the sudden flash of sunlight.
“This is workplace harassment.”
“We're not in the workplace right now, because SOMEONE won't get off his ass and get dressed.”
“Alright, alright! Jesus…”
Right now, Jekang misses that familiar warmth. He clutches the pillow tightly, the perfume about to sleep through and stain his own clothes. He wouldn't mind if he started to smell the scent on himself. But the pillow is cold, and doesn't have a heartbeat. Still, it's enough for tonight. There's a faint pang in Jekang's chest as he tries to close his eyes and pretend as best he can, trying to put his mind under a spell.
He falls asleep.
-
Kwak Jekang likes to harass the Security Team Sergeant. Well, he wouldn't call it harassment.
When he comes into work after his bout of sleep-deprived mania, and he sees J3, perched at the Research Team floor, presumably having just suppressed some sort of mid-grade Darkness object which had run loose in the hands of his totally incompetent co-workers, he stops dead. Usually, he might throw a snide remark, or try to get J3 to throw a punch at him and fail as usual.
Today, he simply passes without a word. The Sergeant glances at Jekang, the same unbothered, uncaring expression painting his features. It kills the researcher, who tips his head down so that the shine on his glasses is hiding the fact that he might burst into tears at any moment.
This is stupid. It's his fault this happened, right? And Kwak Jekang is not the sort of person who regrets.
Today, he regrets.
The regret sinks deep into his heard, claws at his arteries, his veins, spreads along his body until he feels like all his blood vessels are going to split all at once while he's sitting in his office chair, absentmindedly spinning. He pulls up a report. If he takes his mind off it, it'll work. And Jekang loves research, more than he loved B Team Leader.
Clearly, that was why he sent him into that cursed fairytale Darkness. Kwak Jekang loves research more than he loves the B Team Leader. Yes. Writing a report will help him calm down.
Qterw-C-766
He stares blankly at the monitor screen.
This isn't working.
Usually, he can brush off these feelings of guilt, grief, longing, with his reports. He can send someone into a dangerous Darkness, and the thrill of obtaining data masks over the pulsing emotions weighing heavy on his shoulders.
His gaze shifts to the Security Team Sergeant leaving the floor. Jekang can't help but start to feel choked. This has never happened to him before.
He has to go home. He can't work like this. Excusing himself, he slings his coat over his arm, and everything but runs out of the building toward the apartment complex which has the perfume bottle, the clothes, and his still unmade bedsheets which have the lingering, sweet smell of perfume stuck on them.
B Team Leader held out an arm. “Jekang-ah? Are you alright?”
“It's just a headache. I didn't sleep well last night.”
Jekang pressed a hand into his temple, steadying himself against his desk.
“Ah, maybe you should go home. I'll walk you,” the B Team Leader offers, taking him by the waist. Jekang gently swats his hand away.
“I can go home myself, don't worry about me.”
He really wishes he had some support right now as he almost trips on the wooden floorboards, falling into his bed and tangling himself in the sweet scent.
It's fading already. He's going to have to reapply that perfume.
-
“It's discontinued?”
“Has been for a few years. Where did you get this bottle from? I'm surprised it's even in circulation anymore, haha.”
Jekang stood at the customer service desk of a perfume store, an almost empty perfume bottle on the counter between him and the employee who is examining the bottle like an ancient artifact.
“Gift from a relative? We don't really make such sweet ouds anymore.”
“Ah, not exactly… is there any way to get more?”
The employee tilts their head.
“You could go to a custom perfume store, but those places are pricey. Honestly, it's better to just switch to a similar-”
“That will be alright, thanks.” The researcher snatches the bottle away, fear flashing in his mind at the thought of losing the only tangible connection he still has to the B Team Leader.
He exits the store, the doorbell ringing behind him. A custom perfume store? Jekang doesn't care how much it costs. He needs the exact same scent. He's been relying on it for weeks, to keep his cool. If he switches now, he won't be able to work at all.
The researcher wanders absentmindedly down the streets until he sees a small shop, with dark oak panelling and a striped overhang across the window. He peers into the glass. There are rows and rows of scents, vials which he can't read the labels of through the haze of the frosted glass, and he feels himself walk in, placing the perfume bottle on the counter.
“Can you recreate this perfume?”
-
Kwak Jekang survives off of a small bottle of perfume he keeps in his top coat pocket, the one inside the lining, pressed flush against his chest.
Today is a particularly bad day. It's already been months since his predicament started, but he can't bring himself to let go of that sickly sweet scent which is beginning to seep into his throat. No matter how much it makes him want to gag, he needs it.
He really needs it. As he's teaching for the bags of evidence R+D store in their extensive collection of filing cabinets, he can see the wolf mask in the corner of the research materials. It's just a glimpse, but it's enough to make his knees go weak and his vision go blurry. He shuts the cabinet with enough force to shake the desks surrounding it.
“Sorry, Yeonhwa-ssi. Let me, ah… I'm going to go for a moment.”
Lee Yeonhwa looks at him suspiciously. “Team Leader? Are you alright? You better not be snooping around Security again.”
“No, no. Don't worry about it.” He tosses a series of stapled papers in her arms, ignoring her protests, and books it for the employee bathroom.
That fucking wolf mask. That fucking guy, that….. it's too much all at once. It's been years. Why does he still care? Why does it still matter to him? He hates it. He should hate the B Team Leader for messing with his brain like this, for slowing down his research efficiency. Kwak Jekang leans against the bathroom door, shakily taking out the bottle of perfume. He sprays it twice on his wrists, rubbing them together, bringing his hands up towards his face.
The horrible sweet scent hits his nostrils, and sinks into his mouth down his throat, and the world stabilises. He breathes hard, heavy, letting the scent waft into the air until it almost disappears under the florescent lights of the bathroom. He gazes into the mirrors lining the wall, staring at his own reflection.
He really is pathetic.
“Jekang-ah, this assignment is interesting. You want me to go into such a high-grade Darkness?”
“It's nothing you can't handle. You want to disappoint me?”
The B Team Leader let out a laugh. “Of course not! You think I'd disappoint you? You're talking to an elite employee, after all.”
Jekang smiled. “Ah, come out quickly. I want to go for dinner while I question you about the results of exploration.”
“Sure,” the ravenette waves back, a sly grin on his face. “Wait for me, Jekang.”
Jekang stares into the mirror and it takes all his strength not to punch a hole into it and shatter the glass.
-
J3 walks past the employee bathroom. Weird, what's that scent? Kinda sweet… he likes sweets. It smells good.
He watches as Kwak Jekang comes out of the bathroom.
This weirdo wears perfume….? Huh.
Well, it smells nice. And kind of familiar, but J3 can't quite place where he's smelt it before, so he brushes it off and returns to his path back down to Security.