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I.
The first time Seong Gi-hun and Young-il kiss is in bed in the dorms. Gi-hun’s taken the top bunk; he likes to be able to observe the rest of the players. While he had won the games previously, he didn’t feel like it was really benefiting him this time around. If anything, it gave him more of a target on his back, and being so high up when he rested felt safer. He doesn’t sleep much, not properly anyway. Sometimes he’ll close his eyes and wake up hours later, but it’s never a deep sleep; he’s always on edge here, always waiting for something to happen. Everyone else is asleep as he lays on his back, counting the cracks in the ceiling, his body physically exhausted but his mind restless. His eyes feel heavy as he hears the sound of sleep around him. Soft muffled snores fill the room, the occasional distraught whimper echoes in the silence. A shape pops up in the corner of his peripheral vision and he sits up instantly, fists clenched. Young-il looks sheepish as he moves towards Gi-hun, apologising for the sudden fright.
He isn’t sure what to make of Young-il. He feels familiar somehow, like they’ve interacted before; maybe they lived in the area, Gi-hun isn’t sure. He just knows that he feels safe with Young-il, comfortable in a way that he hasn’t been previously. They talk quietly on Gi-hun’s bed, cross legged opposite each other, socked feet touching socked feet. In that moment, Gi-hun forgets about the games, forgets about the Frontman, and enjoys the company of the man opposite him. He can feel his brain start to slow down as the lack of sleep catches up with him, his responses sluggish. Young-il smiles at him, a genuine smile that goes to his eyes and Gi-hun thinks he’s never looked more lovely than in the dark with a smattering of light hitting his cheekbones. Yawning, he apologises for the rudeness which Young-il shrugs away, instead choosing to scold Gi-hun for not sleeping. They’ve moved closer to each other now, when, Gi-hun isn’t sure but their legs are on top of each other, body heat radiating against his own. It’s Young-il that leans in first, his eyes bright as they touch noses and Gi-hun doesn’t miss the way the other man glances down at his lips before meeting his eyes. Their noses touch briefly before a soft kiss is placed, so soft and featherlight it could hardly be called a kiss and yet Gi-hun feels it so deeply in his chest just the same. It’s like a teenage first kiss, slightly awkward as dry lips move against dry lips, their hands still placed in their own laps. Gi-hun thinks it might still be the best kiss he’s ever had.
II.
The second time they kiss is much different from the first. Days of shy glances and fleeting touches has been simmering under the surface before reaching the boiling point of full blown desire. Gi-hun finds himself pressed up against a toilet stall door, moaning into Young-il’s mouth. It’s not the most romantic setting he’s ever found himself in; the floor is sticky beneath his feet and there’s a slight smell of lingering piss but he’s so hard and desperate he can’t find it in himself to care. The latch of the toilet door is pressing into the side of his back, and it hurts, but then Young-il’s mouth is on his own and suddenly the pain feels oh so good. Their teeth clash together as they kiss, they have to be quick, no telling when a guard or another player could walk in. He forces his tongue into Young-il’s mouth, the other man accepts it with grace and they fight for dominance, breathy moans being swallowed up by each other's lips. They move their hands down to the waistband of each other’s trousers, fingers drawing along the cheap polyester and pulling them down along with the boxers. The cold air hits Gi-hun’s cock but it’s soon replaced with the warmth of Young-il’s hand and he leans his head back against the toilet door. Gi-hun bucks into Young-il’s hand as the other man wraps his hand around his hard cock and begins to pump. Ungraciously he does the same to Young-il, swiping a bead of precum that’s collected at the head and swipes it down to make the flesh slick.
It’s messy and he feels so deliciously dirty as they don’t talk, their hands making quick work at each other as they pump each other with haste. He can feel his stomach tightening as he gets closer to his release, his hips bucking wildly into Young-il’s hand though his own hand doesn’t move from Young-il’s cock. Young-il cums first with a low moan and looks at Gi-hun through half lidded eyes that are dark with desire. Gi-hun thinks it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen and cums over Young-il’s hand with a whimper, his body going to jelly and he’s thankful for the solid door behind him. There’s a flush on Young-il’s cheeks and they stand in silence trying to catch their breath. Grabbing toilet paper, he offers a bit to Young-il and they clean themselves up, flushing the evidence of their dalliance away. There’s awkward smiles shared as they look at each other, meeting each other's gazes and looking away again. While Gi-hun hasn’t made it a habit in life to get handjobs in a dirty toilet stall, he definitely has no problem with doing it again with Young-il.
III.
The third time they kiss, Gi-hun would prefer to block it out. They’re playing Mingle, a perverse take on a children’s game that ends in bloodshed, but then again, they all end in bloodshed here. The voiceover calls for two people and immediately Young-il’s hand is gripping Gi-hun’s arm and pulling him to an available room. Gi-hun allows himself to be maneuvered into the room, panic setting in as they find another player there. Arguments ensue from both sides, Gi-hun and Young-il shouting at the man to leave. The other player has a point, he was there first, but he’s alone and they’re a pair. The foreboding voiceover begins to count down, it’s getting too close to 0, too close to death and Gi-hun’s heart is beating so quickly in his chest he’s sure the other men in the room can hear it. Running his hand through his hair he looks at the open doorway before looking back at the player in the corner.
Time seems to slow as he watches in horror as Young-il grabs the other player and begins to choke him, his eyes ablaze with something wild that Gi-hun can’t comprehend. The other player gasps and claws at Young-il’s arm but the other man doesn’t relent and continues to choke. Gi-hun can’t move from his spot, his eyes never blinking as the other player changes colour to an angry looking purple and suddenly there’s a sickening crack and the other player isn’t moving at all. Young-il doesn’t say anything as he runs to close the door, locking the three of them in. Gi-hun’s shaking now, his mouth agape but no words are coming out as he stares at the body on the floor. Suddenly Young-il’s hands are on Gi-hun’s face, the same hands that just took a life cradle his face so tenderly. Hushed apologies are warm against his ear, not apologising for the act but that Gi-hun had to see it. Gi-hun knows it was them or him, a player he doesn’t know the name of; most of the players were as faceless as the guards to him. But it was still a person, and now it wasn’t. Young-il’s hands force Gi-hun’s face to look at him, and the wild look that was once in Young-il’s eyes is no longer there, he looks like the man Gi-hun knew. Young-il peppers Gi-hun’s face with kisses, kissing his cheek, his eyelids, his lips. And all Gi-hun can do is stand there.
IV.
The fourth time they kiss isn't between Gi-hun and Young-il but Gi-hun and In-ho. Gi-hun’s throat is sore and hoarse from screaming, the loss of his oldest friend still replaying behind his eyes. Exhaustion seeps from every pore and he feels nothing but sorrow in his chest. Not only Jung-bae, but Young-il, both dead from his actions. There’s blood on his collar, still sticky, and he doesn’t know who it belongs to. He allows himself to be pulled to his feet by the guards, allows himself to be dragged to a room somewhere, the fight no longer in him. There’s no fight when they handcuff him and there’s nothing left in him when the Front Man enters the room. He had lost, this was the end and he deserved whatever was coming to him. He doesn’t look up when the Front Man speaks, his eyes are fixated on one spot of the floor where the paint had chipped slightly. It’s exhaustion that causes him not to register that the voice that is talking to him isn’t distorted but a normal male voice.
Looking up eventually, he’s greeted with the face of Young-il. The screams of anger that leave his mouth feel like glass shards in his throat and he struggles against his handcuffs to launch himself at the other man, rubbing the skin of his wrists off. He hurts so much, betrayal and anger and confusion replace the exhaustion that lay in his pores previously. In-ho gets closer to him and Gi-hun spits at him before choking back a sob. In-ho continues to get closer, Gi-hun’s name whispered on his lips as he embraces the other man. Gi-hun fights against it, trying to escape the warmth but he has nothing else to give. He goes limp in In-ho’s embrace, his eyes burning with unshed tears as In-ho strokes his hair. In-ho kisses his neck, his jawline before moving to his lips and Gi-hun hates himself for the way he kisses back. He can taste his own tears and the bitter taste of betrayal but he can also taste Young-il, the man he loved and knew. The kiss has no desperation to it, it’s slow, like they’re both trying to make a memory out of it. It’s a kiss that feels like an apology and a goodbye.
V.
The fifth time they kiss is one year later after the games have ended. While Gi-hun isn’t there physically any longer, the memory remains and visits him in his sleep. He knows the games continue, can feel its presence lingering over his shoulder. He hasn’t heard from In-ho, not properly, though he knew the other man continued to reach out to him. It started with messages in the newspaper. Gi-hun had found himself browsing the personals section for no reason other than boredom. There was a message there, not addressed to anyone and not signed off by anyone, but Gi-hun knew.
“There is no greater sorrow then to recall our times of joy in wretchedness.”
He had closed the newspaper then, thrown it into the trash and ignored the feelings of hope and excitement it had brought him. Days passed to weeks passed to months and each new newspaper brought Gi-hun a new message; all from Dante’s Inferno. It was a compulsion that made him check the personals section each time, and it was memory of the betrayal that made him throw each paper away.
Love, which absolves no one beloved from loving, seized me so strongly with his charm that, as you see, it has not left me yet.
It had been one full year of messages directed only to him. They were never signed off, but this one was different, it had co-ordinates to a building in downtown Seoul. It was the thought of revenge that made Gi-hun add the co-ordinates to his phone and set out to the building. Or, at least that’s what he told himself. It was definitely vanity that had him put on his best suit and comb his growing hair out. He had mostly ignored the yearn he felt towards In-ho, swallowed it away down the bottom of a bottle along with everything else. He felt nothing at all, most of the time. Sometimes in his dreams he would be back in the games but instead of it being filled with death and deceit, he would be sat cross legged on his bed opposite In-ho and he felt nothing but calm. He hates himself for those dreams, hates that he wakes up with an ache in his chest because they aren’t real, maybe none of it was real. It feels delusional to assume otherwise, though sometimes he reflects on the way In-ho would look at him, and he’s not sure if that could ever be a lie.
The building is a restaurant, some fancy place with prices that Gi-hun would never pay. There’s already a table booked for 2 under his name and he can’t help but be a little irked that In-ho would know he would come. He’s escorted to the table, a table in the far corner, it’s intimate and hidden from the rest of the restaurant. He can see the back of In-ho and his breath hitches a little at the sight, he scolds himself internally for having such a reaction. Gi-hun sits down, his gaze never leaving the man in front of him. In-ho looks the same, all cheekbones and a strong jaw, a jaw Gi-hun remembers tracing his tongue along. Gi-hun knows he looks more aged, he carries his anger in his face, he wears it all the time and it’s all he sees when he looks in the mirror.
In-ho offers a smile and Gi-hun can’t help as the corners of his mouth tug upwards in response. They ignore any deep topics and instead force idle chit chat. It feels awkward and they’re both purposely avoiding the conversation that needs to be had. In-ho orders soju for them both, and Gi-hun can’t help but feel that maybe it’s a defence mechanism. He knows for himself that he’s used booze before as a crutch, a way to ignore feelings and thoughts, and he wonders if it’s the same for In-ho. He doesn’t ask though, instead he sips on the bottle, relishing in the way it flows smoothly down his throat. Hours later the table is full of empty bottles and plates, the waiter had been over to collect them but in a slight act of possessiveness, In-ho had waved him away, keeping them enclosed in their private sanctuary in the corner.
Gi-hun’s tipsy but he’s not drunk, his body feels light but his head remains stable and aware, which means he has no excuse when In-ho holds out a hand in the middle of the table, and Gi-hun takes it. They’re both pretending, pretending this is a normal date and they are just a normal couple. And Gi-hun allows the pretense, he forgets everything just so he can hold In-ho’s hand in his own and feel complete. It’s just pretense when they find themselves in an alleyway after the restaurant closes, exploring each other’s mouths. Their tongues move languidly against each other and Gi-hun can feel drops of rain fall onto his face but he doesn’t care. He’s just so wrapped up in In-ho, the musky smell of his cologne, the taste of him on Gi-hun’s lips, he doesn’t want to let go of the moment in the slightest. They break apart as the rain gets heavier, the rumble of thunder sounds in the distance. Wordlessly, In-ho takes Gi-hun’s hand in his and they walk together. Maybe they can pretend just a little bit longer.