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I JUST WATCHED THE PREQUEL TRILOGY FOR THE FIRST TIME (MY FIRST INTRODUCTION TO STAR WARS EVER) AND THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT HAS BEEN GOING THROUGH MY BRAIN. AHHHHHHHHH

I mentioned recently that I needed to write a post exploring the similarities between Anakin Skywalker and Hwang In-ho... well, the time has come!

(or, in other words, I'm on the clock rn and needed a little escape from the joy that is my job today)

Before diving into the main comparison, I want to share a bit about what initially drew me to the character of the Frontman, so if you'd rather skip my self-indulgent ramblings and go straight to the point, feel free to scroll past this preface.

I was captivated by the Frontman the moment I watched the first season of Squid Game. It took me a while to get around to it, though, as I only watched it in early 2024, curious to explore Korean media and see if it might inspire me to learn the language. Ironically, when something becomes a massive cultural phenomenon, I tend to avoid it until another impulse finally pushes me toward it.

What immediately hooked me was the mystery. I’ve always loved enigmatic characters who hide behind masks... whether they’re heroes, villains, or something in between. The intrigue, the secrets, the slow unraveling - simply delicious! They pull me in every single time. I had my suspicions early on that the Frontman would turn out to be Jun-ho’s long-lost brother, so I was extremely excited for the reveal long before it came. And when it did? Boy, did it deliver.

My first reaction to seeing Lee Byung-hun’s face was purely superficial - what a ridiculously handsome man, but what truly won me over was the acting. My favourite type of acting: the subtle performances, the blink and you'll miss it type of acting, where everything is stored in the microexpressions. Seeing In-ho so conflicted, broken and yet still determined to go through with it - with shooting his own brother... it was a such a powerful and compelling scene full of angst, I knew in an instant that I had hit the jackpot on a new hyperfixation. After finishing Squid Game, I dove headfirst into Lee Byung-hun’s filmography and haven’t stopped since.

Before starting the Season 2 binge, I glimpsed a spoiler saying that the Frontman would join the games this season - I didn't truly believe it. The shock and excitement by the end of the third episode were through the roof and I was glued to the screen. And then the season brought something even crazier: its main theme centered on a battle of ideologies between these two amazing characters, with the Frontman becoming Gi-hun’s foil!

Even in the middle of that juicy, juicy old men yaoi battle-of-wills I was still pretty much mindful about each and every scrap of information we got on In-ho, Jun-ho and their family. While at first the parallels between In-ho and Anakin seemed more surface-level, sparked by black masks and villainous introductions, Season 2 delivered an insurmountable ammount of parallels that simply keep piling up...

Let's start with the obvious:

both Vader and the Frontman are introduced as villains, but it soon becomes clear that they’re not the true masterminds. They’re enforcers for more powerful figures: Anakin under Emperor Palpatine, In-ho under the VIPs and Oh Il-nam. They wear the mask of control, yet remain puppets to greater evils.

they both come from humble beginnings: Anakin was a slave, while In-ho was a middle-class police officer. Their masters, in contrast, are politicians and the ultra-rich. Despite their power, both Anakin and In-ho remain pawns in systems built to exploit them.

both began as defenders of justice within institutions that served as their world’s law enforcement: Anakin as a Jedi, In-ho as a cop. But those institutions themselves are morally compromised. The Jedi, led by their Council, the supposed 'peacekeepers', become generals in a galactic war. The police force, meant to protect, turns a blind eye when it's convenient. Both men become agents of systems that claim moral high ground while perpetuating corruption, upholding the status quo.

we eventually learn they’re not lone figures: they have a past, a family. Anakin and Luke. In-ho and Jun-ho.

both men were good: Anakin - the compassionate boy turned general who fought alongside his troops, always trying to save everyone, risking it all for a friend or a loved one. In-ho, the devoted brother and husband who donated a kidney and raised Jun-ho with love and care, risking it all for his loved ones, a decorated police officer.

their loved ones fight to reach them: Luke tries to save his father and Jun-ho searches for his brother - willing to lie and to risk everything to save him. Luke and Leia, Jun-ho and Gi-hun - flawed characters on arcs of their own, full of heart, unwilling to give up on those lost to the dark, fighting to stop the cycle of violence by bringing down the evil that enslaved them (the Empire and the games).

both Anakin and In-ho had pregnant wives who died - a grief that shattered their morality and pushed them to the brink, a loss that acted as the final straw in their complete descent into cruelty. Anakin’s prophecy of Padmé dying in childbirth, and In-ho’s knowledge of his wife’s illness, are what first pushed them toward unspeakable acts in the first place. And while their tragedies don’t justify their actions, they do give them meaning.

to survive, both men cling to delusions: Anakin convinces himself the Jedi betrayed him, that Padmé abandoned him. In-ho believes the Games are fair, that people are worthless animals, that he’s somehow helping them by giving them an opportunity at a better life. They were betrayed, they are right, what they're doing is good, these people deserve it, etc.

in their unacknowledged pain, they retreat to isolated places steeped in their own pain: Anakin in his fortress on Mustafar, In-ho on the Game’s remote island.

and yet, a spark remains: Anakin dreams once of returning to the Jedi, to Obi-wan, only to crush that thought - this reality is all that there is, there is no going back. In-ho avoids his wife’s grave, his brother, his step-mom, hides behind a mask, kills Jung-bae to teach Gi-hun a lesson - because this is all there is, he has to make a point, he has to prove to Gi-hun - and to himself - that what he's doing is right.

eventually, someone reaches out: Luke refuses to kill his father and helps him destroy Palpatine - his slaver - and free himself. Jun-ho never stops believing in his brother. But Jun-ho alone won’t be enough, just as Ahsoka wasn’t enough to save Anakin. She represented a past he wanted to erase. He didn't want to kill her, but he had to. Similarly, In-ho doesn’t kill Jun-ho, but he pushes him away.

just like Anakin needed Luke, In-ho may need Gi-hun. There are differences, of course, in their situations and relationships, but when it comes to the roles they play, Gi-hun is to In-ho what Luke was to Anakin: a beacon of hope, a stranger who sees the humanity even at its darkest point and still reaches out with compassion.

Neither Luke nor Gi-hun knew the man before the fall - but both meet him at his worst, and choose to believe in forgiveness and redemption. Because in the end, what is most important is to stop the cancer at its core. They pause and say: you are worth it. You can make another call. Let's stop this sensless death. Let's turn back and find another way. You can and should be good. The way forward may be the only way through, but that doesn't mean that there is only one path to get there or that you cannot change it.

There is always hope.

[nick-writes-stuff]

sometimes it's so hard for my brain to comprehend the ages of the squid game characters bc i just pulled up dae-ho's wiki page to reference something for the fic i'm writing and what the fuck do you mean he is 37 years old. like i thought he was like late 20s maximum, how the hell is he nearing 40

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me: this is gonna be my last fic before season 3

also me: *comes up with a new fic idea within like 2 days*

(chat i have a dae-ho fic cooking rn 👀👀)

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boo i luved ur inho fic. you are so talented.

anon this means the world to me, you have no idea <3333

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guys i am refusing to be on tumblr much at all anymore bc i want to know as little as possible about season 3 before i watch it. season 2 was so good when i went into it blind. my jaw was on the fucking floor when in-ho was revealed as player 1 guys like i need something to rival that experience

[nick-writes-stuff]

Never Love an Anchor

Hwang In-ho x gn!nurse!reader

Summary: After treating him for years, Il-nam invited you to care for him on the island, and you accepted without knowing the horrors that lay ahead. You meet Hwang In-ho on the island, and you are instantly smitten with him. He tries to keep you at a distance to avoid dragging you down, but he falls in love with you slowly but surely. ~11k words

Warnings: manipulation (not from In-ho), canon typical violence, home invasion themes, discussion of medical procedures (not too detailed)

a/n: here's something to tide us over until season 3. title is based on "never love an anchor" by the crane wives, but i also drew inspiration from "first time" by hozier. i hope you enjoy because this one was really a labor of love. might make a part 2 but it's probably going to be after season 3 comes out. <33

You had always known that you wanted to be a nurse. Your mother was a nurse during your childhood. You remember going to “bring your child to work day” and falling in love with it. You also heard stories of your grandmother who was a nurse during the war. That's how she met your grandfather. Helping people seemed to run through your blood. And you were a natural at it. You busted your ass to get into nursing school with a full scholarship, and you did really well. Although you were good at helping people, you couldn't help your family. Your sibling passed, and your life was never the same. You weren't even on speaking terms with your parents anymore.

It was at your first job where you met Oh Il-nam. You were placed on the floor where he stayed often during his treatment for his brain tumor. He admired you in a way. You handled yourself with such grace and humility. You clearly knew what you were doing, but you never allowed yourself to become cocky like some of the nurses he had encountered. He often told you stories of his youth and his family, and you listened with genuine curiosity as you changed out the medication in his IV or drew blood for more tests.

Once you asked him what he used to do for a living, and it was the one time that he responded to you coldly. He simply said that he started a successful business, still helps to run it, and that he prefers to keep it private. You apologized meekly, still not sure what you had said to upset him.

As his condition worsened, he seemed to grow attached to you. The other doctors and nurses treated him with pity and hardly treated him like a person. You, however, continued to treat him the same. You listened to his stories about his wife making lunches for him and their son, much better lunches than the hospital food. You let him have some agency and independence in his final months.

When he made the decision to return home and essentially go into hospice care, you understood his reasoning, but you were torn up a bit inside. He almost felt like a grandfather to you, and it hurt you to know this would likely be the last time you saw him.

But it wasn’t. He orchestrated everything. You lost your job suddenly. Your rent increased to a rate you wouldn’t be able to pay, so you were facing eviction. You hadn’t been on speaking terms with your family in a long time. You were alone. Desperate.

And then you came across Oh Il-nam in a convenience store. He offered you a job as his live-in nurse. He would provide all of the supplies you would need. You could live in his home on an island off the mainland. It sounded too good to be true, but you didn’t really have another option.

You came to the island with Il-nam with no idea what you were getting into. He first introduced you to In-ho. You would be lying if you said you weren’t immediately smitten with him. It was almost impossible not to be. He was handsome and polite and intelligent, but he definitely seemed to try to keep you at a distance.

When you first walked in with Il-nam, you made a bit of a fool of yourself almost immediately. Of course you did.

“Hi. Are you Il-nam’s son that I’ve heard so much about?” You asked, wanting to break the ice.

He smiled, shaking his head. Il-nam laughed behind you. Your smile faltered somewhat.

“No, no I’m not. I work with him.” He said lightly.

“Oh.” You said with a sigh. You laughed, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear as a nervous habit. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. My name is Y/N.” You said, reaching out to shake his hand.

He looked over to you with a smile. You felt like your heart was going to explode, but you kept your composure. “Hwang In-ho, it’s a pleasure to be working with you,” he introduced, connecting your hands with a firm yet gentle handshake. Those two things shouldn’t be true at the same time, but you’d soon learn that a lot of things about In-ho were paradoxical.

In-ho looked behind you momentarily and seemed to roll his eyes somewhat. You didn't want to turn to look, so you assumed it was something Il-nam did behind you. Which it was. He raised an eyebrow and looked at you with a smug smirk on his face. In-ho could practically hear the old man's thoughts, I picked a good one, didn't I?

Normally, In-ho would never pay any mind to Il-nam's sneaky attempts to play matchmaker. It wasn't too often an occurrence, but it was common enough for In-ho to recognize when it was happening. In-ho had always assumed he was doing it in an attempt to follow societal norms. Every powerful man needed someone pretty on his arm. And while that was how it started, now Il-nam just wanted to make sure that In-ho had someone after he passed. In-ho was practically a son to him at this point, and he wanted to make sure he had someone to lean on instead of living this life alone. It was enough to drive a man mad.

This time, it flustered In-ho because he knew Il-nam had really knocked it out of the park by bringing you. Your kindness and humor struck him. You seemed to ease into the conversation well, and you treated him nicer than anyone had in a long time. And you were breathtaking to boot. It was like Il-nam brought back an angel. But he knew all of this would crumble once you learned the truth. About what this all was. What he was.

It started with a simple question. You knew it had caused some tension previously, but you figured you had more of a right to ask it now that you'd be living amongst it. “So what do you guys do here?”

In-ho's face seemed to drop, like he was dreading what was to come. Il-nam smiled. It seemed innocent at the time, but that smile haunted you once you learned the gruesome truth.

Il-nam gave you the spiel. It definitely seemed somewhat rehearsed, but he was also having trouble remembering parts of it. His last statement summed it all up nicely at the time, but it felt much more foreboding with hindsight. “We give desperate people the opportunity to change their lives through some friendly competition.”

You seemed a bit confused. “You run a gameshow?” You asked, furrowed your brow slightly. This didn't seem like a big enough deal that Il-nam would have snapped at you the way he did when you first asked him back in the hospital.

Il-nam laughed at the question. You noticed the corner of In-ho's mouth tug up into a smirk as he exhaled. The fact he was reacting to your jokes at all made your face heat up.

“You know,” the old man started, “we actually arranged for the games to start upon your arrival so you could get a true showing of what we do here.” He said with a smile. You found that quite odd. He hadn't even known if you were going to take the job until a few days ago. How did he manage to work that out so quickly? You didn't want to ask questions, though. You didn't want to seem ungrateful for the gesture.

The three of you sat on the leather couch in front of the large screens, you in between the two men. As the feed flickered to life, you took in the sight, looking over the large area the people in teal jackets (the players, you assumed) were entering. It was vast, with a giant robotic doll standing at the end.

You listened to the announcer explain the rules of the game. You seemed a bit puzzled. “Red Light Green Light? Like the playground game?” You asked.

In-ho spoke softly. “It's a game everyone is at least somewhat familiar with, so it keeps the contestants on an equal playing field.” He said, his voice monotone.

You nodded slightly. That made sense to you. You watched as the game began. You didn’t think anything of it until you heard the first shot. You tensed up, eyes wide.

It was just a paintball gun… right?

You then proceeded to see the most traumatizing scene you could ever imagine. Over a hundred died as they tried to escape their fate. Bodies piled at the exits. Blood was spilled all over the sand.

You felt sick. You just sat there, breath starting to quicken as you realized what you had been dragged into. This felt like a nightmare, but the pain when you bit your lip proved this was real.

You couldn't make out any words until it was over, and the screens flickered to black. Your throat felt tight. You didn't even want to say anything in fear they would do something to you. You were so stupid. How did you let yourself fall for this?

“So, what'd you think?” Il-nam asked. You looked over to see a grin on his face. Your fear turned to anger. Did he find this funny? That your fear and concern was entertaining?

“What the fuck was that?” You asked, voice louder than you intended it to be. You tried your best to keep yourself calm in the moment.

“We gave them the chance to change their life. If they make it out of six games alive, they will receive one hundred million won for each player who is eliminated.” Il-nam explained. He said it so nonchalantly, like he was talking about horse races. You couldn't believe that this was the same man you had taken care of in the hospital for months.

In-ho tried to give you a different explanation. “In the games, their downfall is expedited. Outside, they would be hunted down by loan sharks for their organs or live on the streets and starve. Here, if they don't achieve the goal, we make it quick. It's a mercy killing, if anything.”

You whipped around to face him. “You call that mercy? What the fuck is wrong with you two?” You asked, disgusted by their comments. You stood up, nervously pacing in front of the couch. You needed away from them to feel any semblance of safety.

Il-nam shook his head. “We are simply doing the best for society. Others in the organization like to call it ‘taking out the trash,’ but I think they take it a bit too far.” He said. In-ho knew he was lying there. He knew Il-nam only considered the players as horses to be bet on.

You tried not to visibly react, but the statement mortified you. How dare he claim to have morals? He can condone the slaughter of hundreds of people, but he draws the line at calling them names. He's twisted, and it scared you because you fell right into a trap.

“I can't do this. I want to go back.”

Il-nam laughed again. “You think we'd let you leave?” He asked with a smugness to his tone that stirred your anger.

You couldn't breathe because you knew he was right. “I-I won't say anything. I just can't do this. I'll go b-”

“Where would you go?” Il-nam countered. You froze in your tracks. You didn't look at him. Your wide eyes were on the floor, desperately avoiding eye contact. “You have no job, no apartment, no family. If you go now, you'll just come back in a teal jumpsuit.”

You swallowed hard, trying to calm your breathing. You felt like you were suffocating, the fear squeezing your lungs. Even more than just the things you witnessed just now, you were scared because he was right. If you left you really didn't have anything left anymore.

You took a shuddering breath, eyes gently closing for a moment. “What do you want from me?” You asked, your voice tense like you were trying to hold yourself together. There was none of the fondness you had for him left. You just felt disgusted being around Il-nam now.

And as for In-ho… you weren't sure yet.

Il-nam laughed, causing you to grimace as if the action physically hurt you. “That's the spirit. You'll take care of me until I pass, just like I said. But you will also act as the Chief Medical Officer on the compound.” He said.

You kept your eyes shut, realizing how bad of a situation you were really in.

Before you could say anything, In-ho spoke for the first time since you saw the truth. “You can stay out of the games themselves if you prefer, just helping any of the guards with injuries they receive.” He said. It seemed like he was trying to be gentle with his words. You started to wonder if his friendliness was genuine or just a trick to manipulate you. You hoped for the former.

Was this even morally justifiable? Sure, you were actively running these twisted games, but you were aiding the people who were. But you didn't really have a choice anymore. It was either you work as a nurse for them or they'd kill you. You really didn't have any other options here. Maybe later on, you could find a chance to end these games, but for now, you’re stuck.

You sighed. “I want no part in the games, but I'll do my job as a nurse.” You said, voice quiet like you didn't want anyone to hear. This was almost humiliating for you. You'd been tricked and backed into a corner so easily, and now you were being taunted for amusement.

“Great!” Il-nam said, his cheery demeanor making you sick. This man is deranged. “To celebrate, we have dinner waiting for us.” He said before walking toward an exit of the room. You noticed that his gait was not nearly as staggered and uneven as it had been in the convenience store. And while you all ate, his hands hardly shook at all as he used the chopsticks. You could hardly eat, losing your appetite as you realized the lengths he went to deceive you.

When you all were finished, Il-nam led you and In-ho to his quarters. It was nearly attached to the suite you assumed was In-ho's living area. Lots of medical supplies, medications, and equipment were spread across tables in the room. All of it was familiar to you, being almost identical to what you used in the hospital when you took care of him. The old man was tired and asked In-ho to show you to your suite.

You followed him hesitantly as he left Il-nam's room. You almost felt flustered, like you were worried to embarrass yourself. You felt like a teen again having some silly crush.

The main part of the suite was elegant, a place that seemed just right for In-ho's vibe. You felt out of place in it. In more ways than one.

As you walked, you tried to strike up a conversation. “So how did you end up here?” You asked.

His hardened gaze didn't even glance your way. “I played in the games and won, and I came back to help run them.” He said flatly.

Your resolve seemed to falter at his demeanor. You swallowed tensely. “So you went through it and decided to come help?” You asked. Your statement was more of a genuine curiosity, but he seemed to take it as a judgment.

“Life has a funny way of working out.” He said coldly. You almost flinched at his tone. You were so confused. His mood suddenly flipped and you didn't know what you did wrong.

He felt sick as you walked away. He was being hateful, but it was a necessary action. He knew he would only bring you sorrow. It's what he did best. He dragged everyone down into hell with him. All he did was hurt people, and you didn't deserve that. Il-nam spoke about you often while you were treating him in the hospital. He only ever spoke highly of you. You devoted yourself to helping others and lifting people up. He did the opposite. You were a life raft and he was an anchor. You didn't need him holding you back, so he forced a wedge between you too. Even so, there was no way you could ever love a man like him.

-

It would take you a few months to figure out why he acted the way he did. You spent most of your day with Il-nam, doting on him while his health was declining. But you also tried to get In-ho to warm up to you. Whether it was you making an extra cup of coffee for him in the morning or trying to make small talk about a book he was reading.

None of it particularly went well. At most, you'd be given a monotone word of thanks, but most of the time he was silent.

When your smile dropped, he almost seemed pained, remorseful even. But he never apologized or tried to connect with you. He just looked away, almost like he was trying to make you hate him.

It would never work, though. Your heart combined with your determination made you never give up trying.

But what baffled you more was how different he was when he was around Il-nam. He was infinitely more nice than he ever had been to you when you were alone. He was able to make a show of being cordial when others were there to see him, but any other time you were met with utter disdain.

Until one night, you finally had enough of it. You offered to make him some tea for him since you were making one for yourself. He didn't even look up from the book.

You took a deep breath, your brain fighting a war against itself. You wanted to ask him what was going on, but you were scared to hear what he would say. What if you had done something wrong? What if he just doesn't like you at all?

Your need for understanding outweighed your fear of rejection. You walked over toward him, sitting on a recliner opposite to him. Once again, he didn't say a word. He didn't even acknowledge you. You hesitated for a moment, considering walking away and leaving your question unasked. You felt small, like you were so insignificant here that he didn’t even notice your presence.

You took a shaky breath, eyes focusing on the pale liquid in your mug before looking over to him. “Did I do something to upset you?” You asked, voice quiet. A part of you hoped he didn’t hear it.

But he did. You saw a flicker of something across his face. His facade cracked the slightest bit, letting a glimmer of himself through the hardened exterior he portrayed. You didn’t know how to react to that, to his clear discomfort and fear and regret.

He opened his mouth but no words made it out. He looked away from you, like he was suddenly ashamed that his internal struggles clearly had an impact on you. “No. No, you didn’t,” He said.

Before you could say anything, he continued. “I just- it’s not an excuse but when I was younger my wife passed, and it's just…” He trailed a bit at the end. He couldn't form the words, couldn't admit to the fact he pushed others away because he felt he ruined everything in his life. He kept you at arms length because he didn't want to ruin the last good thing in his life.

You looked over at him, not with confusion or pity, but just pure concern in your eyes. You were able to fill in the gaps of his statement, inferring the bits he couldn't say. “I'm sorry to hear that.” You murmured, your empathy finding its way into his soul. He'd heard that phrase a million times since she passed, but for some reason when you said those words, it felt different. You said it like you meant it. “What was she like?” You asked.

Your question took him by surprise. He didn't think he'd ever been asked that before. He hadn't really spoken to too many people since she passed, but the ones he did speak to had their heads so far up their ass that they didn't take the time to care. Most of the time he got asked how she passed, which was a well-meaning question that hurt to answer. Sometimes the VIPs ask something more… unsavory and In-ho had to bite his tongue to stop the words from flying out of his mouth.

You saw a smile beginning to form on his face, the most positive emotions you'd seen in him since you first arrived (and you assumed that was just a show to convince you to stay). Your stomach fluttered at the sight. You made him smile. You did. There was a sense of pride there, but you contained it.

“She was lovely. Smart, kind, funny. She was my whole world.” He said. He paused for a moment before beginning to say something else, but the words didn't make it out of his mouth.

You remind me of her.

It felt wrong to say. Not in a factual sense, since you really did really act a lot like she did. It felt wrong to put that expectation on you. He didn't want you to feel like you should act a certain way because of his nostalgia. But he couldn't even tell if his feelings toward you were simply nostalgia or something different.

You didn't ask further questions. You didn't want to make him uncomfortable and address the elephant in the room for two reasons. Firstly, it's really none of your business how his wife passed. He didn't need to talk about it if he didn't want to. But you also knew that you had just taken a step in the direction of a friendly workplace relationship and you didn't want to jeopardize that.

He continued speaking anyway. “She was expecting and she got sick. I got into the games to help pay for her treatment. But it was too late.”

You looked over to him. “That’s very noble of you.” You never thought you’d be saying that participating in the death games could be noble, but everyone has their reasons. At least this time, you understood why someone would be willing to commit such horrific violence. You still didn’t understand why he would come back to host the games after experiencing them, but you weren’t going to ask questions now. It wasn’t the time.

You could see his eyes become misty. You didn’t really expect him to say anything else, and you didn’t have any other words to say either. You looked down to the cup of tea in your hand, watching the reflection of the lights ripple in the pale liquid. The silence wasn’t awkward. It was actually comfortable now that you cleared the air.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you away. It’s hard to let people in, so it felt easier, I guess.” He said. He didn’t look at you, almost as if he was ashamed to admit it. And he was in a way. He didn’t want to admit how badly he wished he could let you in. How his heart ached more and more every time he saw your smile fall. How he lied awake at night agonizing over every instance he ignored you or made you feel small. You were the first person to show him any shred of sympathy and kindness for years and he treated you like shit.

You took a sip of your tea before speaking. “It’s okay. I get that it can be hard, but you shouldn’t torture yourself by shutting everyone out. You don’t deserve that.” You said softly.

He met your gaze for a moment, almost like he was looking for any signs of insincerity in your face. There was a part of him that didn’t believe you, didn’t believe he deserved the gentleness you showed him. He couldn’t say anything in response. The words caught in his throat.

You gave him a slight smile and a nod. He didn’t need to say anything. You stood up, setting your cup on the counter before going to check on Il-nam and give him his medication for the night.

After that night, you noticed In-ho’s efforts to connect to you. It started with soft, hesitant words of thanks whenever you did something nice for him. Then he’d start asking you about your day, about the things you liked, and about what you did before you got to the island. While you were happy he was showing interest in you, you found yourself enjoying listening to him talk about himself.

You hardly knew anything about him, so you were always excited to hear him open up to you. There were some things he talked about pretty freely, like his time on the police force and his younger brother. He talked about his wife sparingly, but he never spoke about his time in the games. You never asked, and he never offered. It was something you both individually agreed would never be a topic of discussion.

The gifts started a few months after he opened up to you the first time. It started off with him lending you some of the books that he had on the island. If you enjoyed it, he’d just tell you to keep it. You didn’t know that he had bought a second copy of the book specifically for you so he could have something to talk about with you.

Then, there was a pack of your favorite snack in the pantry. You didn’t even remember mentioning that you liked it, but In-ho remembered it when you mentioned it in passing and ordered it to be on the next shipment. You noticed the incidents, but you didn't say anything. You figured he was trying to find ways to connect with you, but you assumed it was out of remorse for his prior behavior.

Despite that, you had fallen for him pretty quickly. He was a quiet, mysterious, and handsome man you had just met, so it was definitely a bit naive to develop a crush. That’s all you thought of it as at first. It was just a silly crush due to the sudden proximity that would fade once the situation settled. It never did fade.

He fell harder. He fell so much harder than he ever thought possible. You showed him compassion when he had convinced himself he wasn’t worthy of it, when he tried to show you that he wasn't worth your effort. You were gentle and kind to the man who felt he didn't deserve it. You taught him he was capable of being loved again after years of thinking he would be alone forever.

Every day he felt the weight on his shoulders get lighter and lighter. He was finally able to breathe again.

These feelings, no matter how strong, were left unsaid. Neither of you wanted to ruin what you had now.

You feared overstepping a boundary that still remained unclear to you. You didn't know if he would even be interested in another person after his wife passed, but more than that, you didn't want to make him revert back to how he was before. You didn't want him to close himself off again.

And he was afraid to do something to push you away. You were the only person who valued him for who he really was, not just as the Front Man. If he scared you off, you seemed to be the last person who regarded him as a human being with emotions.

So any feelings were bottled up as things on the island started to become a routine. The preparation for the next set of games was underway, and you started to have to put in more effort for Il-nam's care. He wasn't doing well. From the look of his scans, his brain tumor wasn't responding to the treatments anymore. It was growing, slowly at the moment, but you assumed he likely had around two years left if things continued on this trajectory. He still seemed in good spirits, which was something you didn't know if you envied or despised. You may not show it, but you still didn't like being on the island. You enjoyed In-ho's company and working with Il-nam to an extent, but the fact that the preparation for the deaths of hundreds of people was underway was gnawing at your psyche.

About a month and a half before the games were set to begin, Il-nam threw a wrench into the plans when he called a meeting with you, In-ho, and a few of the managers.

“I think I want to play the games this year.” The old man said slowly.

Your eyes widened, looking over to In-ho, but you couldn't see his reaction through the mask.

You hated the mask. In-ho was such an interesting man and he didn’t deserve to be forced to be disguised in front of everyone but you and Il-nam.

You refused any attempt to give you some sort of persona here. It felt wrong to accept some form of title here, but you also knew it wouldn't be in the best interest for the care of the individuals needing your assistance. Empathy is needed for a lot of your work, so the mask seemed to be a hindrance to both your duties and your morality.

“Sir, I don't know if that's the best i-” In-ho began, his voice modulated through the mask. You personally found it hard to take the unnaturally deep voice seriously at times, but you knew it was necessary.

Il-nam laughed dismissively. “What’s the worst that could happen? I’m already dying.” He said.

In-ho looked toward you, but you couldn’t read his face. You looked the old man over. Before you could say anything, another manager spoke. “Why would you want to deal with players? Don’t you think they are dangerous?”

Il-nam sighed. “I want to relive the good days. I’m tired of sitting here being sick.”

“But sir, we won’t be able to help keep you safe.” In-ho said, trying to act as a voice of reason. “Plus, what happens if your health declines during the games? You’d suffer there.”

Il-nam shook his head. “I’m suffering here. We can plan around the games to find ways to keep me safe. And I can get out during Marbles.” He said. He clearly had been thinking about this.

In-ho looked at you like he wanted you to be a voice of reason in this scenario. But you didn’t share the same opinion.

“I mean, if that’s what he wants to do. I can figure out how to get medicine in the meals.” You said. Maybe it was your training, but if that was Il-nam’s wish, you felt inclined to respect it. You could figure this out so he could fulfill that wish. You thought that participating in the death game was a weird addition to his bucket list, but you were willing to oblige.

You heard In-ho sigh through the mask. He knew you were right, but this also felt like a lot of unnecessary stress for his first time running the games by himself. “We can workshop the idea.” He conceded. You could tell he wasn’t entirely on board with the plan, but he wasn't going to object.

You spent some time trying to figure out how to get the medication to Il-nam during the games. The main problem would be getting him the meds that he typically got through an IV. Of course, you could just slip the pills into a bento box or the bottom of the paper bag and just make sure he gets that specific one. But the meds through the IV wouldn't be possible. He’d have to stop his round of chemotherapy. You discussed that with him to make sure that was what he wanted. He would definitely experience some pain due to stopping it, and it would likely worsen his prognosis in the long run. But Il-nam was adamant that he wanted to go in.

Finally, the big day came, and the games began. You were on edge the whole time. It made you sick knowing that what you had witnessed last year was going to continue again. It was worse knowing that you aided in preparing for it, but it wasn't really like you had much of a choice. You were cut off from the mainland entirely. Not even the phone lines connected to anywhere off the island.

You made sure that Il-nam got a dose of his meds in before he was taken with the other players. You couldn't help but feel anxious, like you were sending the man off to the slaughter. This was his choice. That's what they said about the players joining the games, and that's what you tried to tell yourself anytime you worried about him.

You reentered the suite from the infirmary to see In-ho sitting in that leather chair, some American song playing from the music box and a glass of liquor in his hand. The first game was playing on the screen. You averted your eyes almost instantly, and you felt a rush of anxiety through your veins.

You left before he realized you had entered. Or at least you thought you did. He had certainly heard you come in. He just didn't react to it. He didn't want to pressure you into watching it. He knew it would likely distress you further.

The next few days were slow since the players had voted to suspend the games. You really only had to take care of Il-nam, and In-ho also had some downtime, seeing as there were no games to oversee at the moment. It felt nice for things to feel the way they were before the games began, but you knew it wouldn't last.

The night the players were set to return, you found yourself with a night off from tending to Il-nam since he had some business to take care of on the mainland. You were sitting in one of the leather chairs, reading one of the books In-ho had ‘lent’ to you. You never thought you'd enjoy reading Nietzsche, but here you were.

You heard the soft tapping of boots on the hardwood floor, and soon In-ho was at your side holding two cups of tea. You looked up to him with a smile and a soft, “Thank you.” You laid your book in your lap and reached for the cup, trying to ignore the sparks emanating from where your fingers brushed against his.

As he moved to the other chair, you broke the silence. “Can I ask you something?” You asked.

He met your gaze with furrowed brows, like he was confused, trying to figure out what you were going to inquire about. But it wasn't just confusion; there was a layer of excitement that he couldn't quite explain. Like he longed for a specific question from you. He just nodded in response.

You sighed softly, debating silently whether you even wanted to ask it. You didn’t want to upset him, but you wanted to know something that you were struggling to grasp.

“How do you just watch the games like it’s nothing?” You asked. Your tone had no hint of judgment, but you still noticed him flinch slightly, barely a twitch of his eye. You sat in silence for a second, and right as you were about to backtrack and try to take back your words, he spoke.

“It’s hard to explain.” He said. He pondered it for a moment, and you tried to seem as non-confrontational as you could. You weren’t trying to accuse him of anything. You were just asking out of curiosity since you had assumed going through the games himself would have left some deep trauma in him.

“I know their deaths look harsh, but I see it more as a mercy killing. Out there, they would have been hunted down by creditors and suffered more than they did here. The ones who are eliminated have their peace.” He said.

You listened closely and thought about his phrasing. “What about the ones who win?” You asked. You weren't asking in general, and he knew that. You were asking about him specifically.

He paled slightly, not realizing how he had phrased it. There was no way he was going to explain it to you truthfully. A part of him was ashamed to admit the real reason, especially since he knew you would be concerned.

Because how does he tell you this, the person who finally taught him how to love again. How does he tell you that he envied them? How could he even explain that for the longest time he wished he had died like the rest? All he wanted was peace. He didn’t deserve to be the one who got to walk away.

At least, he thought that before. Now, not so much. He still has days where he envied them, but since you arrived, he found himself finally being grateful for the second chance he once resented.

“It's hard to find peace after everything I went through.” He said. His voice was small and wavering and nothing like you would have expected from him. He was usually so confident, so sure of himself. He seemed impermeable to the world around him that seeing him so vulnerable was strange. But it wasn't a bad thing to you. He deserved to have the ability to be open and honest, to be something other than the Front Man for once.

Your words escaped your lips before you could really think about it. “Maybe I can help you find it.”

Before you even realized what you had said, In-ho stood and left the room. He just left the suite. He wasn't heading anywhere specific. He just had to go. He wanted nothing more than to take you up on your offer because you had already been helping him find his peace whether you knew it or not.

But he was scared. He was a fucking coward. He was too afraid to lose what relationship he did have with you. No matter how desperately he wished he could have more.

You froze as he abruptly left. You were kicking yourself because you knew you screwed this up. You just had to say something stupid, didn't you? You came on too strong, and you hated it. Also, nothing you said was flattery, at least not intentionally. You were just being honest and trying to be supportive.

During the next few days, you didn't have that much to do with Il-nam being in the games. You had a live feed of the security cameras, mostly just focusing on Il-nam so you can observe him to know what meds to give him in his meal. The only person you had to treat was a soldier who got stabbed in the eye with a needle during Dalgona. You didn't do much, though. You told them to get him to a specialist on the mainland because there was no way you were working on something as delicate and complicated as an eye.

You felt like In-ho was avoiding you. And he was, but not consciously. He tried to stay focused on his work and watching over everything in the games, but he was focusing hard because he wanted to keep you out of his mind. After being so reserved and isolated, the feelings he had for you seemed dangerous. Relationships in his life only ended in heartbreak.

You weren't informed of the intruder. It slipped In-ho's mind since he was so focused on catching him. His determination to catch him only grew when he found that police ID. His brother's ID. The body it was with definitely wasn't his. He needed to find Jun-ho soon. Alive.

You were reading in your room when you heard it. A muffled thud rang through the silence. You flinched slightly at the unexpected sound, slowly closing your book and sitting it next to you. You heard soft footsteps in the hall. You wanted to believe it was In-ho, but you just had a gut feeling something was wrong.

You grabbed the radio from your nightstand, looking it over in your hands for a moment. Would he even answer you? You pushed the button. “Hey, are you in the suite?” You asked hesitantly.

The footsteps were getting louder, and you heard the doors opening. Waiting for his answer was almost painful. Your hands shook slightly. There was no reason for him not to answer you.

“No.” His voice cut through the static. The voice was monotone through the radio, and it somehow made you more nervous. You couldn't see the panic flash across his face (to be fair, no one could because of the mask.)

Your breathing quickened. “Someone is.” You said quietly. Before he could answer, you heard the footsteps right outside your door. You turned off the radio, tucking it under the blanket out of sight.

The door swung open, and you were greeted with a man in a pink jumpsuit, a guard’s suit, but he was holding a gun that was entirely different from the standard issue guns the managers had. Whoever it was, he wasn't someone who worked here. Your hands trembled as you held them in the air.

“Please don't shoot. I'm just a nurse.” Your voice was quiet, almost like you could hardly force the words out of your mouth.

He looked at you, somewhat skeptical. “Why are you here?” He asked.

You swallowed hard. “I just take care of one of the men who work here. I didn't know what was happening here.” You said. You chose your words carefully, as you wanted to make sure he didn't believe you were in on it. Because you really weren't in on it, but this man seemed determined for answers.

His eyes softened slightly. “Did they kidnap you?” He asked. His guard was down. You felt like it was easier to breathe now.

“Kind of but not really?” You said. His eyebrows knitted in confusion. “It's complicated, but I can't leave. They'll kill me.” You asserted. You were being honest. There was no way you'd make it out of here alive, and if you did, you wouldn't be alive for long.

He pulled a cell phone from his pocket. “What's your name?” He asked.

You looked up at him hesitantly. You gave him a fake name. You didn't know what his intentions were. You didn't want to get legally bound to this operation. He seemed like a cop, and you did not want to go down for others’ misdeeds here.

He narrowed his eyes somewhat, like he didn't fully believe you. But if he was suspicious, he didn't mention it. “Do you know my brother? Hwang In-ho, is he here?” The man asked.

You did what you had to do. “No. I've never heard of him before.” He seemed to believe you.

“What do you know about the games? The VIPs?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Next to nothing. I take care of one of the men in charge. I don't know his real name. They just call him The Host, but he's definitely too old to be your brother.” You were lying, but you were a good liar. A common part of your job was making up white lies about where doctors were when they were running late or acting like someone's condition wasn't bad in order to avoid worrying them. You could tell a convincing lie.

“Is something wrong with his kidneys?” The man asked. He'd been used to people saying In-ho was too old to be his brother since there was such an age difference between them.

You shook your head. “He has a brain tumor. He's almost 80, so he's not your brother.” You said with a slight chuckle.

You wanted to keep him talking so In-ho could make it here and catch him now. But the man seemed to be in a hurry. He said, “I'm gonna make it out of here and report this to the police. I'll get you out of here, okay?” He said. It was a rhetorical question apparently as he rushed out of the room.

You stood there frozen in fear for a moment, afraid to do anything that would make the man suspicious of you. The last thing you needed was someone here thinking you were cooperating with the intruder. You didn't even know if he really was a police officer.

You weren't sure where he went, but you heard the door to the suite open and the recognizable clicks of In-ho's boots in the hall. Before you could move, he was in the room, mask in trembling hand.

“Are you okay?” He asked. There it was. The genuine concern and care for you that you hadn't heard since that night. You tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

You nodded. “I'm fine.”

He let out a relieved sigh, mumbling something to himself under his breath. You had no idea how panicked he was when you wouldn't answer his reply on the radio. It had felt like his chest could cave in, and he could hardly breathe.

“Where is he?” In-ho asked.

You shook your head. “I don't know. He just walked out like a minute before you got here, so he can't be far.” You said.

He turned on his heel to try to catch him, but you spoke. “I think he's your brother.” Your tone was gentle, like you were breaking bad news to him.

He paused in the doorway, not turning to look at you. “I know.” He said matter-of-factly. He sounded almost remorseful, like this was his fault his brother was involved. He left before you could say anything else.

Il-nam was taken out of the games soon after. The marble game was the perfect way for him to sneak out of the game without question. 456 just walked away, and a stray gunshot to the ground did the trick to convince him.

The old man wasn't doing well. He had a high fever and seemed to be a bit out of it. The soldier overseeing his and 456’s game told you he was seemingly having memory lapses, but you had no way of knowing if those were real or manipulation.

You got him into a different set of clothes instead of the soiled tracksuit with a mismatched jacket and shirt. You ran IV fluids and some medication as soon as you could. Hopefully, it would help bring down the fever and quell any effects of dehydration that were likely setting in.

Il-nam grabbed your wrist with a tremoring hand. “Can you tell the VIPs that I'm going to miss the next game? I need some rest.” He said, seemingly having trouble finding his words.

Your eyes softened, but you were still suspicious if this was genuine or not. “Of course, sir. Get some sleep, okay?” You said with a gentle smile.

You made your way out of his room, grabbing the radio from your pocket. “Can you tell our guests that he can't watch the next game with them? He needs some rest.” You said. The only channel your radio had the ability to broadcast to was In-ho's. Well, you could probably talk to other people, but you were never shown how. It never came up.

“I'll send his regards. Keep me posted.” He said. You knew he didn't necessarily mean about Il-nam. He wanted to know if you saw Jun-ho.

You didn't see him, but it was clear that the VIPs had. You got a frantic call from In-ho asking you to enter the VIP room, and a manager would explain what they needed from you. You were nervous, afraid of doing something wrong that could get you killed. Especially because In-ho had made it clear to you that you were not permitted to meet the VIPs. You figured it was a way to protect their privacy, seeing as you were still new and could be seen as untrustworthy. In reality, In-ho laid that rule to protect you from their less than desirable behavior (and definitely not because he would be jealous if you caught their eye).

You were discretely led to one of the private rooms where you found a very naked American man. You were careful not to show any of the emotions stirring within you. Humor, disgust, embarrassment, none of them were good options to show in this scenario.

You checked his vitals as quickly as you could, ignoring the man's sultry comments about you. “Your vitals are fine, and I don't see any injuries. I think you're just a bit shaken up and a bit drunk.” You said before standing up.

“Well, I don't know. Maybe I need a more thorough examination.” He slurred, clearly insinuating something lewd.

You forced a smile. “I have other patients to attend to. It was nice meeting you.” You lied through gritted teeth. You left the room to check on the server that Jun-ho swapped places with. He was also okay, just unconscious. You advised one of the managers to take him to the infirmary to rest up before heading back to the suite to check on Il-nam.

You opened his door to see him asleep in the bed. You closed it silently, not wanting to interrupt his rest. You stepped into your room, grabbing the book you had been reading when the chaos started. This time, you were able to read for a bit longer than ten minutes before you were interrupted again.

The door swung open, and In-ho entered in a hurry. His mask was already pulled up to sit on the top of his head, resting on his slicked-back hair. His hand was clutching his chest over his shirt and coat. There was some emotion you couldn't place, but his eyes were dark and intense.

You looked up and instantly knew something was wrong. “Hey, what's going on?” You asked, closing your book with haste.

In-ho's gaze seemed like he was looking through you. Something was definitely going on. Without saying anything, he pulled his shaking hand away from his shoulder, revealing the blood staining his skin.

Your eyes widened, but you knew what you needed to do. “Go sit, okay? I'll patch you up.” You said. You didn't wait for a response, just heading out to gather the supplies you would need.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat. You knew how to treat gunshot wounds. That wasn't your concern. You didn't know how to treat him right now. You didn't know where you stood with him at the moment, and you were afraid to overstep. You also had no idea what happened out there or how he got shot. You had some assumptions, however. You grabbed the things you needed somewhat frantically, wanting to get back to him quickly.

You headed back into the main area of the room to see In-ho on the chair. His hand remained over the wound, and his eyes seemed unfocused as he stared ahead of him. He clearly seemed to be in some level of shock. You moved one of the end tables closer to the chair and sat your tools on it.

He hadn't reacted to your presence at all since you walked back in. You frowned slightly before kneeling beside the chair. You leaned into his line of sight and tapped on his leg to get his attention. He flinched more than you expected him to. “Hey, it's just me.” You said softly.

His eyes met yours with a look of recognition, but he still didn't seem like he was entirely present in the moment. Progress was progress, no matter how small.

“Can I help you get your jacket off?” You asked gently. You waited patiently for him to respond. He moved his head the slightest bit, giving you the smallest nod.

You willed your hands to remain still as you helped him slide the jacket off his shoulders. You carefully maneuvered the sleeve off his injured arm, trying your best to keep him comfortable. While you folded the trench coat to drape it on the chair, you realized you would need his shirt off as well. You tried to keep your brain from short-circuiting at the thought. “Your shirt next, okay?” You prompted softly. You carefully peeled the shirt from his wound, seeing him grimace as the fabric pulled away. “Sorry.” You murmured as you slid the shirt down his arm.

You let out a shaky sigh as you tried your best not to become flustered at the sight before you. This wasn't the time or place to fawn over him. You stared at your hands intensely as you put gloves on, keeping your gaze away from his toned figure as long as you could.

You checked him for an exit wound before beginning to focus on treating the wound in his shoulder. It seemed like it was mostly a flesh wound, and luckily, you could see the bullet.

You did your best to be gentle as you cleaned the wound. You whispered soft apologies whenever you felt him tense up from the pain. You just wanted to do this as quickly as you could. Your hands were shaking as you opened the package of forceps. You didn't want to hurt him, but you knew you were going to be. You remained focused and did what you needed to do. You removed the bullet, feeling all of his muscles tense as he grimaced. “Almost done.” You said. You packed and dressed the wound, causing less discomfort this time. You taped down the gauze, gently tracing it with your fingers to keep it down.

He watched you carefully. Not because he didn't trust you, but because there was something about you that captivated him. He didn't deserve you. He didn't deserve the gentleness and care that you showed him. He was transfixed by the fact you cared about his wellbeing when he had treated you so harshly when you first arrived. Every time you whispered words of comfort or glanced up at him with worried eyes, he felt some of the weight dragging him down fade.

You showed him compassion so naturally that he started to believe he was worth it. He had spent so long believing that he was irredeemable, that no one would ever be able to see him for anything more than a monster for what he has done. In his time at the police force, his relationships, his participation in the games, and his aid in continuing them, all he has done is ruin things. He seemed to harm everyone he meets, physically or emotionally. He pushed everyone away until he was left alone. He convinced himself it was better that way so no one would ever be able to forgive him for his unending misdeeds.

Until you. You were persistent and patient and unconditionally kind. No matter how much he tried to keep you at a distance, you still stayed. You worked your way into his heart, something he didn't think would ever be possible. He was convinced he didn't have one. He knew he did now because it was warmed when you'd go out of your way to do things for him. It raced anytime your gaze seemed to linger on him. It felt like it skipped a beat every time you smiled or laughed at his jokes. The heart he thought had died alongside his wife now seemed to beat for you.

“In-ho?” He heard your voice cut through his thoughts. His eyes met yours. He got the feeling that you had been trying to get his attention for a few moments.

He saw a flash of his brother's face, a reminder of the moment he shot Jun-ho. He said his name the same way you just had. But the memory was fleeting, and he kept his composure. He didn't say anything to you, but you could tell you had his attention.

You took a breath as you removed the gloves from your hands, setting them with the trash you had leftover from your supplies. “I got the bullet out and patched it up. If you need something for pain, let m-”

You were interrupted by his arms wrapping around you, pulling you flush against his chest into a tight embrace. You wanted to warn him about being careful, but you felt his shoulders shake with a heavy breath. He was crying. You froze for a moment as you processed what was happening, but once you did, you were quick to hug him back.

“Hey, it's okay. You're okay.” You murmured. You absent-mindedly brushed your hand up and down his back to soothe him. Your chin rested gently atop his uninjured shoulder.

He shook his head somewhat, an action that confused you. Was he not okay? Your eyebrows drew together, but he couldn't see that. You assumed something was still wrong. Maybe there was a wound elsewhere, or he was still in pain. “Is there something else hurting? What can I do?” You asked gently.

That seemed to upset him more, which only served to make you more confused. His embrace tightened somewhat. You froze momentarily, trying to figure out what was going on to no avail. You gave up on your search for answers rather quickly, once again devoting your energy to comforting him. He could explain later. Right now, he clearly needed support. You murmured soft words of comfort repeatedly, trying to convince both him and yourself they were true.

After a few minutes, he seemed to calm down a bit. His shoulders no longer heaved and shook due to his cries, just trembling slightly as he took shaky, deliberate breaths in an attempt to calm down. You felt his muscles relax slowly but surely. But internally, his brain was still swimming in his distressing thoughts. Now, he just accepted that he would air those thoughts out.

His words were quiet, so quiet that you didn't even hear him the first time. You couldn't make out any of the words, but you know you heard something. You hummed in response, lightly asking him to clarify. He was silent for a moment, almost like he was convincing himself to say it again.

“Why do you give a shit about me?” He asked. His voice sounded wrecked, like he was choking on the words as they left his lips.

You furrowed your eyebrows, pulling away from the hug to look up at him. “What do you mean?” You asked. Your voice was so concerned and worried, and it hurt him. He was hurting you again and he knew it and he fucking hated it.

“All I've ever done in my life is ruin other people. I hurt everyone. I've killed people. I just-” He paused, voice cracking out of frustration and anger. “Fuck, I just killed my brother.” He confessed, a strangled sob erupting from him.

You leaned to reach out to him, but he flinched away from your touch. “I'm a monster. Why can't you see that?” He asked, voice still wrecked.

You felt your eyes start to water a bit at the sight before you. You didn’t quite know what you were feeling. In-ho had always been calm and collected no matter what, at least outwardly. So seeing him so distressed unsettled you, but there was also a strong sense of something else. Guilt? You didn’t think that was an entirely accurate assumption, but you just knew that you wanted–no, needed–to comfort him.

You met his eyes with nothing but love in them, and he wanted to be frustrated that you weren’t listening, but he couldn’t.

“I know that you’ve done some things you aren’t proud of, and some other things that you are proud of but I won’t condone,” you began, a light chuckle behind your voice as you clarified. “But at least to me, that doesn’t change the fact you are a human being who deserves compassion. You aren’t what you’ve had to do.” You said softly.

A tear ran down his face, and he swiped it away quickly. “I don’t deserve it, though. I’ve denied it from so many.”

“Not from me.” You said. You knew he would disagree, citing how he treated you upon your arrival. He pushed you away, but you understood why. You didn’t blame him anymore. It was a coping mechanism. It is an unhealthy one, but it's a coping mechanism nonetheless.

He didn’t disagree, though. Because he knew, deep down, he knew that he never really disliked you. Quite the opposite. He pushed you away because he was scared. Because he didn’t want to ruin his last chance. To ruin you. And he nearly did.

You feared you were about to risk it, too. “I know you feel like you hurt everyone. That’s why you kept me distant at first, and I don’t blame you for your response to that fear.” You said. You saw something shift in his eyes, like a sudden realization that you picked up on more things about him than he thought.

You didn’t react to that as you continued speaking. “Other than that distance, you've been nothing but kind to me. You helped me get settled into this hellhole. You started buying me the snacks I mentioned in passing. You bought new copies of books you liked and pretended to lend them to me so we could talk about them.”

He laughed through tears at that statement. You smiled slightly before getting somewhat serious. “I know you ran down here in a panic after I called you on the radio and couldn't answer you.” You said, voice somewhat more stoic. When you looked at him, you could have sworn you saw his cheeks flush the tiniest bit. “I'm not going anywhere, okay? You aren't going to scare me away.” You said softly.

You watched him take a deep breath. He seemed to be struggling to accept your statement, like he was internally debating if he would be a fool to believe you. It wasn't that he thought you were lying, but he felt like this was too good to be true. Maybe he was misunderstanding you and clinging to false hope that something would work out for him for once.

He met your eyes. “Why?” He asked, the sound hardly above a whisper. You could see his eyes water again, but there was something different.

You paused for a moment, debating on letting out the words that had been echoing in your brain since you met him.

Now it was your face heating up. You took a deep breath.

Fuck it.

“I love you.” You said. You averted your eyes in embarrassment, praying you weren't crossing the unclear line between the two of you. The fact his wife had passed away left a dense fog over your understanding of him. “It started as a crush that I thought would go away at first, but it never did go away. It grew and grew and just-” You started, quickly getting flustered. “I love you so much. I wanted to tell you, but I-”

You were cut off by his lips crashing against your own. His hand held your cheek, gently anchoring you in place like he feared this was a hallucination of some sort. Maybe he was still bleeding out on the island, and this was all in his head. Something changed in him when he heard you say those words the first time. He felt like part of himself was laid to rest, and a part of himself he hadn't known in a while had come back to life.

You had frozen for a moment, processing what was happening. You still didn't quite comprehend it, but you weren't going to miss out on this moment. You kissed him back eagerly, smiling somewhat against his lips. One of your hands rested on his uninjured shoulder, the sensation grounding you to reality. This was really happening, right?

When he pulled away, you took a deep breath as you processed everything. You really just kissed him. A stupid smile crept onto your face. He pulled you into his arms again.

His voice was soft, a whisper for only you to hear. “I love you too.” He murmured. He said it like he was keeping a secret from the universe. He didn't want his confessions known by powers that be. He didn't want history repeating itself.

The room was quiet. The world seemed to fade away from his mind, and he was focused on the moment, on you. The feeling was foreign to him, but he knew what it was almost instantly.

You really did help him find his peace.

-

bonus:

As Christmas approached, Il-nam's health declined more and more. It had been a year and a half since the games Il-nam played. He had been keeping tabs on the winner, Player 456. He arranged to meet him in a high rise in the middle of Seoul.

You and In-ho said your goodbyes before he arrived, since you were fairly certain that either he wasn't going to make it much longer or Player 456 would kill him. You figured it would be the former from what you heard about the player.

As you both talked to him, he was trying to sound chipper, but he was clearly in pain. You were conflicted on how you felt. You'd known him for a long time, but he was a despicable man who ruined your life alongside thousands of others.

In-ho noticed you getting upset before you noticed it yourself. You hadn't even seen him turn to look at you. You just felt his arm slowly wrap around your shoulders, gently pulling you flush to his side. You leaned into him absent-mindedly.

Il-nam noticed the interaction, and for the first time in a long time, he smiled. It was a pained smile, like the action itself was hurting him.

"I'm glad I... won't have you worry about... you when I'm gone." He said slowly, looking at In-ho with slightly uncharacteristic fondness. He had to force the words out through his labored breathing. "They are... good at taking care of people." He said, referring to you.

You looked down at him with tears in your eyes. Before you could say anything, they got the alert that the player had entered the elevator. You both had to step out to let Il-nam play one last game.

You never got to say goodbye to him. He would pass away right before midnight on Christmas morning. After the player left, you both entered the room. Your hand found its way to Il-nam's wrist, feeling for a pulse as if you didn't believe the heart monitor. You sighed before reaching up to gently close his eyes. "Rest well." You said softly, voice cracking somewhat as you began crying.

You turned to see In-ho staring at the old man. His jaw was clenched, and tears threatened to spill from his eyes. You took a step closer to him, pulling into a hug wordlessly. You burrowed your face into the fabric of his turtleneck.

He held you in his embrace, taking deep, shaky breaths to avoid crying himself.

Things were going to change now. The future was uncertain. But this...

This was certain.

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Gatekeeping is so good and important

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i wanna make a bingo card for my fics bc i know there are a few cliches and tropes that use frequently

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fic out tomorrow perhaps 👀

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OUCH

Hwang In-ho & Albert Camus ('The First Man' /'The Fall')

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quick poll

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In-ho sets up the glass stepping stones only a foot or two off the ground so they can figure out the best distance between them but purposely doesn't mention that some of them would break just so he could see the first guard panic thinking he broke company property when the glass shattered

Apparently the Squid Game director made the cast test out the pentathlon game to figure out the right time limit, and now all I can picture is a cursed behind-the-scenes AU where Inho is like:

“Circle guards, we’re playtesting. Mask up. Game time.”

So now you’ve got a bunch of poor exhausted guards, who thought today was just gonna be corpse disposal and trauma, suddenly lined up for Red Light, Green Light like it’s gym class. And then Inho shows up—fully masked, trench coat flapping in the wind like some kind of dystopian PE teacher—and joins the game.

He’s doing everything with them, completely dead serious. They’re crawling through the honeycomb challenge and Inho’s right there, carving his shape with surgeon-level precision, muttering “Inconsistent sugar texture. We need a 12.3% longer boil.” like it’s a bomb diffusal exercise.

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OUCH... THIS IS SO GOOD, THANK YOU FOR THE MASTERPIECE <333

find the words | choi su-bong (thanos)

・❥・ summary: no matter how many times you tell him you love him, he brushes it off but little do you know he feels the same. ・❥・word count: 1.4k ・❥・warnings: angst, mentions of death, lots of swearing ・❥・ authors note: i’m sorry if the formatting is off, im posting this mobile!! but im back with my thanos fics <3

If there was one thing that Choi Subong was certain of, it was that he didn’t deserve love. He was not a good person. He wasn’t the kind of man that was good for anyone and he knew that. He was toxic – constantly popping pills and acting like an asshole at any given opportunity. In his heart, he would consider himself unlovable. What kind of person would want to love a loser like him anyway? No, he was fine with it. At least this way he couldn’t ever break anyone’s heart, he didn’t have to let anyone down. Under all the bravado and the act he put on, he was just a scared little boy who needed his precious, colourful pills to survive. When he didn’t take one he was an anxious mess, his brain a never-ending stream of dark and scary thoughts that he never wanted to dive into. He was a broken man. The world had chewed him up and spit him out to the point he didn’t think he deserved anything anymore.

You, though. You had wormed your way into his cold, barely beating heart from the second he had met you. The bright smile you always wore on your face, the way you looked at him like he mattered – it meant more to him than you knew. In fact, you meant more to him than anything else in the world. He just couldn’t tell you. He didn’t need to drag you down with him. All you deserved was peace and happiness – both things that he couldn’t give you. So, he hid his feelings deep, deep down. Actually, in his cross necklace where he kept his drugs. One time when he’d been off the pills, he needed an outlet and thought it was a good idea to write you a letter telling you how he felt about you. Of course, he would never give it to you but it would remain close to chest. Literally.

When he had laid eyes on you in this shithole of a place after the first game, he almost wanted to kill you himself. How could you have landed yourself in a situation like this? When you’d told him you’d done it to try and raise the money to help him pay off his debts, he’d lost his mind. He’d chewed you out for being stupid but you didn’t care. You would do anything for him. No matter how many times you tried to tell him that, he always brushed it off.

The Mingle game had just ended, Thanos had his arms wrapped around you in a tight hug, your body pressing firmly against his. One of his hands rested on the small of your back, the other cradling your head as he held you against him. Each game his panic escalated, he couldn't lose you; vowing to do anything he could to keep you safe. Your arms rested gently on his back, rubbing it soothingly.

“It’s okay, I’m okay,” you assured him, your heart thumping in your chest as he nuzzled his head into your neck. It was moments like this with him that you cherished the most. You were the only person in the world that he’d hold like this.

“You shouldn’t fucking be here,” he said the words he’d been saying since the moment he’d seen you. “If I lose you, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“Hey,” you pulled back slightly, taking his face in your hands forcing him to look at you. “You won’t lose me, okay? And, I won’t lose you. We’ll get through this together like we do everything else. I love you, Subong.”

There it was again. You telling him you loved him in that soft voice of yours. He rested his forehead against yours, opting to once again ignore what you’d said. His eyes fluttered shut, his lips ghosting over yours. All it would take was for him to press them against yours, closing the millimetre gap between your lips but no. He couldn’t do that to you. He would ruin you in every single way but, god, he really wanted to. Just once he wanted to know what it felt like, how your lips felt against his, how you tasted.

With a sigh, he pulled back, his hands resting on your hips for a second as he spoke with a shaky voice hidden behind false confidence. “I need to take a piss.”

He headed towards the bathroom, his lackey Nam-gyu trailing behind leaving you stood there. Of course he’d brush it off. He always did but there wasn’t anything you could do. Maybe one day he would listen to you. The sad thing was that you would wait forever for him to finally notice you. A sigh passed your lips as you made your way over to sit down on your bed. All you could do now was wait for him to come back, acting like you didn’t just almost kiss for the thousandth time.

After the first five minutes, you brushed it off. He was taking a piss, no big deal.

When fifteen minutes hit was when you started to worry. It didn’t take that long to have a leak. Where was he? Had he got himself into some trouble? Surely the guards would have put a stop to it.

It was at twenty-five minutes when the panic set in. You had got to your feet, pacing in frustration. Something must have happened. It didn’t feel right, everything about this felt off. Just as you were about to march towards the doors and demand to be let into the bathroom, Nam-gyu stepped through covered in blood. It was then you heard the familiar voice echo through the room.

Player 230 eliminated.

The room began to spin, your stomach threatening to throw up the dinner you’d eaten. No, no, this wasn’t real. Your hand had to grasp onto one of the poles on the bunk beds to keep you upright. Without even realising tears were falling down your face, a loud sob wracking your body. Your shoulders shook as you broke down.

He was gone. The love of your life, the person who had your heart was gone. You’d never see his face again, never see that perfect smile, never hear his laugh. You’d never be able to run your hands through his purple hair or hold him against you ever again. It felt like the world was ending because your world had just ended. What was the point without him? Your heart physically hurt. It felt like someone had ripped it apart, stomping on the pieces as it fell into your stomach.

Through your tears, you looked back up to Nam-gyu. In the haze of everything, you caught a glimpse of the familiar chain you knew all too well. Immediately you went towards him, snatching it from his hand. “That’s not yours,” you hissed through a sob. Before he even had time to react, you had walked away, clutching the cross tightly in your hand. You didn’t care about the blood staining your hands now, all you cared about was that you still had a piece of him.

An hour passed and all you’d done was cry so much that you’d given yourself a pounding headache on top of everything else. Gi-hun had come over at one point to try and console you but you could barely remember it. Ever since you’d heard the words ‘Player 230 eliminated’, nothing had made sense. Maybe Thanos had been onto something. Maybe the pills would help numb the pain. With shaky hands you pulled open the cross only for a small note to fall onto your lap.

You picked it up, unfolding it and instantly your eyes filled with fresh tears as you spotted the familiar handwriting.

My Senorita. I’m not good with words, never have been so sorry if this is a fucking mess. My life is a shitshow but you’ve been a constant ray of light, making my days a little brighter. I know how you feel about me and I’m sorry that I’ve never acknowledged it but I’m so fucking scared. You deserve the world but I can’t give you that. I’m fucked up. I’m no good for you but there’s a part of me that sometimes wants to be selfish. I fucking love you. Shit, I’m so in love with you. A better man would be able to wax poetic but all I can say is my heart is yours. Yours always, Subong.

A sad smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you clutched the note to your chest. He had been carrying this with him the whole time. He loved you. You weren’t sure if knowing that made it better or worse but for now it gave you the motivation to keep going. You’d do this for him now.

taglist (ask to be added!): @ldydeath @infinetlyforgotten @justsisse @djarindroid @basquiat-top @urmomsg1rlfreind @belladonna-303 @seunghyunwifey

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he would definitely freak out