#going to you without any reason ( patrick & hyuk

[ofgentleresolve]

@jeoseungsaja​​ sent:

"It's you, isn't it."  At this point, it's no longer surprising to catch a shadow plastered on the dilapidated wall. At this point, he can recognize said shadow; take note of the outline of unmistakable hat. There's a long pause after something that might sound like a revelation; his back facing the vigilante as fingers carefully graze long leafs of Lily of the Valley. A little, saddened smile tugs at his lips, before letting out an elongated sigh. "The one who puts water in this plant once in a while." Touch releases itself from the damp green, turning about so he can address the Black Knight.

He doesn't understand. Doesn't understand why the masked vigilante does these things: comes around whenever he pleases, for as long as the door remains with that shabby lock (a lock Hyuk himself hasn't even changed due to a million penurious excuses; it almost feels like the detective welcomes him through actions, even if his stubborn words might say otherwise) and, on top of that, is observant enough to tell when this plant needs water.

Hyuk knows Nakamura uses the watering can to give the Lily of the Valley much needed showers whenever he forgets to do so, but it's almost impossible for the plant to remain this damp after hours of its last round of water. Plus, he doesn't think it's a coincidence that the leaves have fresh droplets of liquid on occasions he's found the Black Knight inside his office. Truly? He could question him about it, be relentless and ask why he's doing this, why does he even care; continue with worded brawls until one of them lurches forward.

But he doesn't. Instead, he looks down, pretends that he's busying himself with something else as he walks to his desk and takes a paper crane that wasn't there earlier. Suki must've folded some papers around here. Again. He's too tired to mind tonight.

"Thank you." He finally says, in the shape of a whisper more than anything else. "That plant...the--flower---" What is he doing? Is he about to tell him what it symbolizes? God, he must be losing his mind now. Head lifts, looking at the Black Knight and those eyes that unnerve him.

 A hand waves in dismissal.  He can't. He'll be too vulnerable.

 "Nothing. Just...thank you."

(IDK WHAT THIS IS BUT KASHDIUWEDH PLS TAKE IT, I HOPE IT'S OKAY; AS ALWAYS PLS FEEL FREE TO DISMISS IF YOU'D LIKE, HAVE A FANTASTIC DAY FERRE C:!!!) || flowers!! + pain ( unprompted. )

For once, he does not flinch when the detective calls to him. How strange it has become, this ritual between the two of them to convene in Hyuk’s rundown office when the city trades its certainty for the illusion of peace. They both know better; a single lock, even one sturdier than the one Hyuk still has not replaced ( perhaps Patrick should nag him on it although most things roll off his dear friend’s back like water, irritants included. Inspector Im would know; Miss Nakamura would too ) doesn’t guarantee any safety. The best mechanism against danger is AWARENESS.

And yet, here the Black Knight is again, slipping through a window into the office awaiting one exhausted, bitter detective who has lost the plot according to his former co-workers, maybe even the public in general. He winces, a twinge of pain shooting up from his back, where the sutures he received the last time they spoke haven’t quite dissolved, the thread, pulling the skin there taut.

And yet, the Black Knight knows this tenderness isn’t only a physical sensation. Sometimes when he looks at his dear friend, it makes Patrick ache. The source of the pain is never clear in those instances and while he can pinpoint his back as one of the sources this time around, the whole picture remains blurry. The line between tangible and intangible blurs.

Sometimes, Hyuk reminds Patrick of an old wound, crusted from the passage of time. And yet still raw even after all these years: the way phantom limbs will ache even when the said ligament has been severed years ago.

Patrick remains leaning against the wall, the shadows obscuring half of his face, where his hat will not. His gloves are slightly damp from handling the watering can. If Hyuk were to check, there would be reminiscences of warmth wrapped around the handle in turn. The soil seemed on the dry side when he had slipped in through the window. Winters are never kind of flowers such as these. Patrick follows Hyuk’s gaze.

He hadn’t noticed it the first time around, that pot of flowers. He had been too busy, too focused on taking that USB Drive to pinpoint the source of that scent in the office. But it made sense the second time around, that coy scent of spring, lemons, and REBIRTH. A fragrance brave enough to make its presence known, but humble enough to avoid saccharinity. Coy, but not cloying. It settles over the office the same way the grief has settled over Hyuk in a heavy coat.

The Black Knight should be practical. He should tell Hyuk to get rid of that pot- doesn’t he realize it gives him away? Not everyone smells like a lily of the valley, this mute flower that not even the deftest of perfumiers can replicate. To keep such a plant in the vicinity will only invite more danger to Hyuk. And his colleagues.

And yet.

And yet.

“If you’re going to take care of it, do it right, or don’t try at all,” he says, half-heartedly. Perhaps in their earlier days, there would be more bite behind those words. And besides, Hyuk would most likely know better than anyone else how difficult it is to protect someone.

The flower jostles gently under Hyuk’s coaxing. The buddings rustle the way bells might and for once, he imagines something pleasant to accompany it- something like her laughter. Or maybe Hyuk thinks of him. Not the Black Knight, but of a Patrick Grace long since buried.

Patrick hasn’t seen one in years; his favorite flower- a native wildflower to the English countryside that signal the start of spring, a symbol of starting anew. And yet there is one more reason, in a box of memories he stashed away, he can recall for adoring this meek blossom-

“…Do you know you what it’s supposed to represent?” He pushes off the wall and approaches the pot as Hyuk takes his usual seat at his desk. A light scent washes over the smell of smoke and burning for the briefest of moments as his thumb grazes the top of a leaf. “The coming of spring. Humility. Purity of heart. A return to happiness.”

In other words, starting over. Coming to terms after mourning.

Moving on.

( That’s not something Patrick deserves, but he knew that when he put the mask on. The greatest mercy he can ask for is sweet oblivion in the end. )

Hyuk gives something akin to a smile and something in Patrick clenches. ( If it feels something like guilt or regret even, he won’t acknowledge it. ) He lets his hand drop and turns away from his beloved friend, sharply.

“You should take a lesson from it.”

[ofgentleresolve-a]

notable players ( 4/??? ): the king ( ft. lee hyuk )

THE KING. while it can move in any direction, the king may only move one square at a time and may not move into a space where another piece is being attacked. during the endgame, it has the potential to become a powerful offense force, but one must be careful; should it be captured with no means of escape, the game will be lost. the most important piece on the board and therefore, the most vulnerable.

( black knight. pawn. rook. king. )

photos do not belong to me, i only edited them; credit for the interpretation of lee hyuk goes to alex @jeoseungsaja!

[ofgentleresolve]

# for hyurick in the black knight verse (IF??? THERE'S A CHANGE MYUNGDAE KEEPS HYUK'S NUMBER, I MEAN---IWUEHDHD)

@jeoseungsaja || texting aka the crux of rp ( cell phone headcanons prompt. )

send me “#” for cell phone headcanons about our muses

black knight’s phone:

- what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone: ♚

- what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone: none but then again all contacts in the black knight’s phone are relatively anonymous. he keeps all of his contact names as symbols and limits the amount of information on there…also the phone is encrypted, the cipher decoder device set to go off to myungdae’s fingerprints so even if someone else were to get a hold of the black knight’s phone, they wouldn’t be able to read it easily.

- what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone: this one! sorry the great a*ce a*ttorney ost gives me black knight vibes. ( pawn and rook both have unique ring tones since he can’t always look at his screen. )

- my muse’s last text to your muse:  “Give your forensics expert a raise. She’s doing your office a favor even if she’s making my job harder.” “Your plant was looking dry too. I watered it.” “Are you trying to kill it, it needs more shade.” “I’ll be back.” ( other things to note: the black knight’s phone also has a deception feature aka if it rings, he can also put a fake contact photo over in case someone is looking over his shoulder. ) ( BONUS ) myungdae’s personal phone:

- what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone: .

- what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone: a picture of the picture of hyuk that patrick kept with him over the course of five years. the quality is not that great :/

- what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone: good evening by SHINee

- my muse’s last text to your muse:  [ five years ago ] “Maybe I can visit you once your case finishes up. I’ll have some time before the semester starts. Wasn’t there a beach you wanted to check out?” “We can plan for it next time, Hyuk-ah.”

( bonus, bonus: [ unsent ] “help me” )

[ofgentleresolve]

main verse hyurick: HAD THEIR FIRST KISS

black knight! hyurick: he called him a knob

[ofgentleresolve]

select conversations between suki and the pigeon man.

“You shouldn’t feed them that.”

Or so a man with a British accent says. Most times when she hears English spoken in this strange city ( okay so maybe Seoul is a good thousand miles closer to Osaka than say, Los Angeles ), she expects a Korean accent. Or maybe an American one. Or maybe she hasn’t seen enough of the city yet.

( That might be her boss’s fault although he’s not exactly a stickler of when she should be clocking in or out. As a matter of fact, there is no sign-in sheet for her unlike with the LAPD. That’s probably because she’s the only ‘employee’ of this makeshift company. She’s pretty sure if she played hooky, her boss wouldn’t notice, being too engulfed in whatever file he’s looking at. )

But the point of the matter is that as she ripped out another piece of her milk bread, the man sitting next to her rested a hand over her own. She pulls her hand back, fingertips smushing the middle with the crust. Who is this guy?

The man, for his part, realizes quickly he’s overstepped his boundaries. Suki scoots closer to the other end of the bench. He’s looking at her, strangely. But then again, that’s nothing new to her, either. She lets her hair fall over her cheek. It won’t cover up the entirety of her burn scar. Nothing new there.

“My apologies,” the man says, voice quiet but velvety. British too- the accent reminds her of her boss too. But then again, her boss is a unique case. When he had first transferred to the LAPD, she wasn’t expecting him to speak flawless English, let alone British English. “I couldn’t help but notice…”

He trails off and reaches into the brown bag next to his cane. Huh, now that she thinks about he seems a bit young to be walking with one- he drops a pile of sunflower seeds into her hand before unbuttoning the cuff of his button-down. Suki tilts her head; it’s not that hot today, she doesn’t think, but that thought gets thrown side when she notices the pinkened skin over his wrist and how it extends underneath the long sleeve of his shirt. If she looks closely enough, she can see that same shade of dark red and brown marred over his neck too.

Oh. He’s like her.

He scratches a cheek and nods at the flock of pigeons gathered at their feet again. “They…it’s better to feed them seeds.” Fishing out a few more seeds, he tosses them to the ground. The pigeons chase after them like moths to light bulbs.

Suki tosses a few of her own. The pigeons take to those seeds as well. She grins as the birds hop about, greedy for their meal. It’s adorable, really the way some will chase after the same seed as it hops against the concrete. At least they have a better chance of well, eating them. When she fed the bread, the sparrows would swoop in and pick up the crumbles before those pigeons even had a chance and- she then remembers. She was in convo with someone.

“Oh! Um-“ She bows her head towards the stranger. “Thank you for the seeds, um, Mister-“

And she doesn’t even have his name.

He shakes his head, facial expression carefully neutral. Again, it reminds her of her boss in a way. The way he wears neutrality like armor; how strange. This man seems to remind her a lot of her boss.

“There’s no need to.” He groans, standing up. “I…I should be going. Take care.”

It only occurs to her later, as she’s biting her tongue trying to remember the word for door, that the man spoke to her in English.

***

“Oh! It’s you, the Pigeon Man!” She slides into the seat on the other end of the bench. The man ( Pigeon Man as dubbed by Suki ) jumps, startled as his cane clatters against the bench and hastily he, tucks something into his coat pocket. He’s wearing the same jacket she saw him in last time, that dark green utility jacket.

“The Pigeon Man…?” He echoes hesitantly. Suki nods.

“The Pigeon Man.” She echoes. After all, he never gave her his name and there are only so many ‘Kims’, ‘Chois’, ‘Parks’, ‘Lees’ and so forth that she can distinguish between.  

That, and well, the Pigeon Man didn’t seem too keen on sharing any more personal information. Rolling back his sleeve the previous looked like a concentrated effort in and of itself. Suki will take what she can get.

And besides, if he doesn’t want to volunteer anything, Suki is more than happy to make up the rest.

The Pigeon Man gives chuckles, albeit awkwardly. Hands grab at the corduroy pants; he seems stiff, like a doll stuffed into clothing tailored to another shape. Suki tilts her head.

“Are you here to feed the pigeons again?” He asks, suddenly. “They won’t be here for another hour, I’m afraid.”

She shakes her head. “I’m on a coffee run. My boss needs it to stay awake for the auditors today. I think it’s a terrible idea…maybe I should slip a sleeping pill in there while I’m at it.”

“You wouldn’t actually, would you? He’s trusting you.”

She pouts, crossing her arms. “No. But he doesn’t sleep, ever. I don’t think he’s closed his eyes in the last week; says ‘the truth requires the long hours’.”

Which is an exaggeration, but then again, it wouldn’t surprise her if the boss pulled enough all-nighters to make a sixteen-episode drama. That’s not good and she doesn’t think it would be terribly exciting to watch since again, he’s usually either staring very intently at a file of some sort or he’s zoning out. Or he’s stepping out, only to return with inexplicable bruises and cuts. Well, that might be more interesting to watch-

But again. That’s not the point here.

The Pigeon Man, strangely enough, frowns, the center of his brow furrowing as if he’s part of the problem. Suki shakes her head.

“I mean, it’s not like I can stop him…but it’d be nice if he at least took a nap once in a while.”

“You seem to care about him, a lot.”

She leans back. “Mm-hm. We were co-workers back then; I learned a lot from him. He’s also paying my bills so it’d be nice if he, you know, lives.”

“I suppose that is important. I shouldn’t keep you here for too long then- I’m sure he’s waiting for his iced americano-“

She yells before scrambling up to her feet. If the Pigeon Man flinches, she doesn’t notice in favor of grabbing his hands in gratitude. “Oh my gosh, you’re my savior- that’s what he usually drinks. I couldn’t remember what it was supposed to be, um here!” Pulling out an old receipt from her pocket, she folds it into a paper bird before shoving it into the Pigeon Man’s hands. “Thanks again!”

***

“What ‘cha reading?”

The Pigeon Man jumps, startled in his seat on the bench before he gives her a waning smile. The pigeons in front of them scatter, only to return a few seconds later, if not a bit more scattered than before. She thinks the seeds are what pull them back in front of the bench. He scoots over to one end of the bench to make room. Suki can’t help but raise a brow- jumpy much? Maybe he has some kind of PTSD or such; she’s no psychiatrist, but lots of people she’s encountered back in her LAPD days exhibited those symptoms. Not that they would admit to it.

She probably wouldn’t either. But still, it’s an improvement on her part at least- she didn’t touch him like the last time.

“Just a short story for class.”

“You’re a student?”

He shakes his head and chuckles, nerves still seemingly shot. “No, no- I teach. I work at the university nearby- have you been there yet? It’s quite the…campus.”

“Probably? I might’ve missed it though since it’s in the middle of the city.” That and reading Hangul gets…exhausting after some time. She’s getting better though. Or at least that’s what Jae Hwan is saying.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t be like Oxford, after all. “

She tilts her head. Huh. So he was teaching at a prestigious place before? She might not be British but even Suki knows what Oxford University is. Still, she peeks at the title page. “The Illiad isn’t a short story collection.”

“No,” The Pigeon Man echoes. “It isn’t. But does feature a larger cast of characters so one could call it a short story collection- one that is interwoven with one another.”

Oh. She blinks; well if he puts it that way- “Which one are you reading right now?”

His fingers, long and callused, with burn scars peppering the knuckles, splay over the cover. The burns there are circular, the skin there charred as if the placement there was intentional. “Achilles and Patroclus. Have you heard this one?”

She shakes her head. No, she hasn’t. As a matter of fact, she got scolded by her teacher for vandalism of the books, turning pages into art. A crime well worth the punishment- it’s too bad Takahashi-senpai didn’t see it that way…

“They’re not the main heroes of the story, but I think it’s quite an intriguing one to read into more- would you like me to tell you?”

The story is simple. Patroclus and Achilles are close friends, maybe even closer than Achilles is to his own wife. During the war, Patroclus dawns Achilles’ armor and goes to battle in his friend’s stead, only to be slain by Hector.

“Achillies is driven mad with grief.” The Pigeon Man says simply and stares at the flock of pigeons in front of them. “He doesn’t rest until Hector is dead and even then, he takes full responsibility for Patroclus’ funeral rites.”

Suki tilts her head. Huh.

In a way, Achilles reminds her of her boss.

She wonders if the Pigeon Man is thinking of someone too.

***

“On lunch break again?”

“Something like that.” She holds her hand out just as he dips his own into the bag of sunflower seeds. If it weren’t for the flock of pigeons peddling about, eagerly awaiting their meal, she’d think he was a bird himself. A pigeon to be exact-

No matter what scares them off, they always come back, one way or another.

“Jae-Hwan’s on an important case. Something about the Black Knight potentially making a move tonight.” Not that Suki cares- when have the police departments actually gone after the real criminals anyways? If anything, the Black Knight seems more interested… “So I’m getting lunch for my boss. Can’t decide what to get though.”

“…Is that so?” The Pigeon Man says, fingers weirdly twitching before he casts his hand out. The seeds bounce against the pavement. The birds hop about, chasing the seeds. “Your boss, is he what the Americans say, a picky eater?”

She throws her own hand out and watches the pigeons chase the newly offered seeds. “Mm, not really? It’s more like if he doesn’t necessarily enjoy the food, he’s less likely to pay attention to his stomach.”

“I see…in that case, would you like a recommendation? I’m sure it would be fulfilling even for your boss.”

***

The door to a private detective agency opens.

“I’m back! Got lunch too; today we’re having ramen.”

She sets the takeout bowl in front of her boss.

“…”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Lee Hyuk finishes the entirety of the bowl. He doesn’t complain or even grumble although afterward he’s even quieter than usual.

Suki takes that as a victory.

***

“Can you do me a favor?” The Pigeon Man asks her. “If your boss asks, don’t tell him it was me.”

“Um…sure?” Why is the better word, but even then- “I mean, he wouldn’t even know who I’m talking about when I say the Pigeon Man. I never got your name, by the way: I’m Nakamura- Nakamura, Suki. What’s yours?”

“…”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me-“

“Myungdae. My name is Shin Myungdae.”

fin.

[ofgentleresolve]

shin myungdae. 34. literature professor and vigilante. a knight is never without their sword.