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s0dabeach · 7 hours ago

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That explosion in s2 that killed one of the boat guys, and severely injured another. What if Jun-ho got swapped with one of them 😭 (you can choose which if you choose to write this)

Oooohhhhh! I think Captain Park would suffer the most! He was appointed Jun-ho’s babysitter after all!

Jun-ho hated how still everything felt.

(warnings: explosion, blood and gore)

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ○△□ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

The sea was calm, unnaturally so. No wind, no waves – just the dull hum of the boat’s engine and the occasional click from the monitor where Nam-hyuk guided the drone through the dense forest canopy. It was the kind of quiet that made your instincts tighten.

Jun-ho stood at the edge of the deck, arms crossed over his chest, watching the drone feed flicker on the small screen. Nothing. Trees. Rocks. More trees.

And then – something.

He leaned closer to the monitor. “Slow down. Back it up.”

Nam-hyuk nodded and guided the drone with practiced fingers. The camera panned over the trees, shadows shifting with the movement of branches.

“There,” Jun-ho said, pointing. “Zoom in.”

Nam-hyuk adjusted the drone’s angle. Through the gaps in the trees, something metallic gleamed faintly beneath layers of moss and overgrowth. It was rectangular, unnatural. Definitely not just a rock.

Jun-ho pointed. “That look like a door to you?”

Mercenary Kim came up beside him, squinting at the screen. “Could be. Could be a hatch, or some kind of old bunker.”

Jun-ho turned to Kim, who was already nodding. “We’ll go check it out.”

He didn’t need to say more.

They moved quickly. Jun-ho, Kim, and four others climbed into the skiff and made for shore. The short ride to shore felt longer than it should have. Every time he looked at the treeline, it felt like the island was watching them.

Something was wrong with this place.

They landed just beyond the treeline, boots hitting damp earth. Jun-ho led them through underbrush and low-hanging branches, eyes locked on the handheld monitor as the drone continued to hover above their position.

When they reached the clearing, he spotted the hatch immediately.

Old. Rusted. Covered in thick moss. It was sunken into the earth like it had been hidden for decades.

He crouched, brushing a hand over the surface. The metal was cool, flaking with rust. But beneath the decay, it was solid.

“Definitely a door,” he muttered.

Kim stepped beside him, gaze sharp. “You want to send someone in?”

Jun-ho nodded, then started to rise – but paused.

Something in him didn’t sit right.

His gut twisted.

He looked over at Kim. “I’ll go first.”

Kim didn’t question it. Just gave a sharp nod. “I’ll cover you.”

Jun-ho approached the hatch. One of the younger men followed – a soldier named Jung, a little too eager, always trying to prove himself. Before Jun-ho could speak, Jung stepped forward, crouching beside the hatch.

“I’ve got it,” Jung said quickly.

Jun-ho started to object, but he was already crouched, slipping fingers under the rusted lip.

The metal groaned.

Jun-ho’s instincts screamed, but before he could say anything –

Boom.

The blast tore through the clearing, bright and fast and hot.

A burst of white-hot air slammed into him like a freight train. Jun-ho felt himself lifted – no, thrown – off his feet, the trees spinning above him. His body hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of his lungs, pain blooming in his side like fire.

Then came the ringing.

The world was distant and dull, muffled like he’d been plunged underwater. He tasted iron. Something warm trickled down the side of his face. His ears screamed with static. His chest heaved, but the air wasn’t coming fast enough.

Dirt rained down. Leaves. Smoke.

He blinked up at the sky, trying to move, but his limbs didn’t want to obey. His fingers twitched. Everything hurt. His side felt like it was caving in.

Through the ringing, he thought he heard shouting.

Maybe it was his name. Maybe not.

Jun-ho closed his eyes, just for a second.

Just to breathe.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ○△□ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

The skiff was still thirty meters out, but the dark smear along Kim’s sleeve and the frantic way the men moved told Captain Park everything he needed to know.

Something had gone wrong.

He stiffened, stepping forward, fists clenched so tight his knuckles cracked. The drone feed had gone black minutes earlier – static, then silence. Nam-hyuk had tried to regain the signal, but the island swallowed it whole. And then they’d heard the sound. Muffled through the trees. An explosion.

Park had known. He just hadn’t let himself believe it.

Now the skiff was closing in, the engine roaring louder, and he could make out more details. Kim was at the bow, shouting something to the men behind him. Two soldiers flanked a slumped figure between them. Their movements were rushed, uncoordinated.

Park took a step forward. Then another.

His gut was already sinking.

By the time the skiff slammed against the hull, he was at the edge, leaning over.

That’s when he saw Jun-ho.

His head lolled forward with each bounce of the skiff, blood streaking down the side of his face. His vest was half burned, part of his shirt torn and soaked through with dark red. One arm dangled uselessly at his side.

No. No, no, no.

Kim climbed up first, then turned back to haul Jun-ho up by the vest – rough, fast, desperate. One of the others scrambled up to help. Jun-ho’s body slumped between them like a puppet with cut strings. Park’s stomach dropped. He didn’t even register moving until he was grabbing the edge of the boat, helping them haul Jun-ho up and onto the deck. The weight of him – the dead weight – made Park’s lungs seize.

Not dead. Not dead. Not dead. Not dead. Please.

Kim’s voice was rough. “Hatch was rigged. We didn’t see it in time.”

Blood soaked through the fabric of Jun-ho’s shirt and vest, and Park couldn’t even tell where half the injuries began. His hands hovered over Jun-ho’s chest, not knowing where to touch. Everything looked wrong. Burn marks across his side, a cut on his temple still leaking blood. Shallow breaths, uneven.

“Shit,” he whispered. “Shit, shit.”

He pressed two fingers to Jun-ho’s neck.

A pulse.

But faint.

And that was somehow worse. He let out a breath that didn’t help. His lungs still felt tight.

Woo-seok hovered nearby. “Is he –?”

“He’s alive,” Park snapped. “Barely.”

He looked down at Jun-ho again – pale, barely breathing. Blood crusted at his temple. His lips were parted like he was trying to breathe through pain. He looked younger somehow. Vulnerable. And Park –

Park’s mind spiraled.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the call.

That day years ago, when he’d picked up the phone and heard that voice – calm, unreadable, always three steps ahead. “He’s alive?”

“Barely,” Park had said, still soaked from dragging Jun-ho’s near-lifeless body out of the water. “I got to him just in time.”

“Good. Get him to a hospital. Make sure they don’t ask questions.”

There had been a pause, heavy.

“Once he’s stable, I want you to stay close. Keep him out of trouble.”

“I’m not a damn babysitter,” Park had said. “He’s a grown man.”

“Make sure he doesn’t die. That’s an order.”

Park hadn’t asked why. He hadn’t dared.

So he did it. Fished Jun-ho out of the water, half-drowned and full of secrets. Got him stitched up, kept the paperwork clean, kept the questions quieter.

Park had almost laughed back then. He’d figured it’d be a week, two at most. Long enough for Jun-ho to get bored and quit chasing shadows. Long enough for him to realize the trail was cold. That there was no rabbit at the end of the hole.

But Jun-ho hadn’t quit. Hadn’t slowed down. If anything, he got sharper. More relentless. He asked the right questions, noticed too much, pushed too far.

And somewhere in the middle of all that, Park had stopped seeing him as just the Front Man’s brother.

The kid had grit. Stubbornness. That dry, infuriating way of calling out bullshit without saying much. He was easy to like if you weren’t trying not to. Park had ended up sharing meals with him, cracking dumb jokes over coffee, covering for him when things got too close.

He’d told himself it was part of the job.

That was the lie.

And now he was watching that same kid bleed out on the floor of his boat.

Park squeezed his eyes shut for a second.

He was so screwed.

What the hell was he going to tell the Front Man? That his little brother got caught in an explosion? That he let the one person he was supposed to look out for walk right into a trap?

He could hear a soldier calling for evac in the background, could feel the boat rocking gently underfoot – but all of it faded beneath the roar in his own head.

Because if Jun-ho didn’t make it –

If he died on this deck, in Park’s arms –

The Front Man would destroy him.

He could see it now. Not yelling. Not rage.

Worse.

Stillness. Silence. That awful cold mask – not the literal one, the real one. The one behind the voice. The stare that didn’t blink. The pause that came before judgment.

Park’s pulse hammered in his ears.

Would the Front Man kill him?

Probably not right away. No, he’d do something worse. Something patient. Something cruel in its precision. The kind of punishment that made you wish for death.

Park could see himself being sent back to the mainland, quietly removed from everything he knew. A slow, quiet erasure. He’d vanish like so many others had. Name scrubbed from records. Disappeared.

Or maybe he wouldn’t be sent away.

Maybe he’d be kept close.

As a reminder.

The Front Man would make sure he felt it every day – every breath, every shift, every glance. Like ice under his skin.

Jun-ho still wasn’t moving.

Park held pressure to the wound on his side, but the blood didn’t stop. It seeped through his gloves, warm and terrifying. The medical kit rattled as the boat swayed, useless under his hands.

“If you die…” Park hissed, more to himself than anyone else, “your brother’s gonna kill me.”

And maybe that’d be easier than living with this.

He didn’t look up. He didn’t move. He just stayed there, fingers curled tight over Jun-ho’s ribs, holding on like he could keep him tethered.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ○△□ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

(AN: Am I happy with this? Eh. It's fine, I guess.)

#hwang jun-ho #captain park #squid game #squid game 2 #fic

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