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Sangwoo wasn’t all that surprised to see people die during these games.
Distraught, yes, of course, every single time. He would flinch, his heart would pound in his fists, jaw clenched so tight his teeth threatened to shatter at the next shot while his nails pierced the skin of his palms in anticipation.
Nothing a few billion won couldn’t easily fix.
There are only a small handful of things that couldn’t be fixed by 4 billion won, and that’s despite accounting for a margin of error, because he can’t think of any.
Pay off the debts. Agree on some kind of deal with the corrupt fucks at the police department. Take care of his mother, try to be the son she thinks he is. Buy a decent home, some nice suits. Cigarettes. Get a therapist, trick them into thinking all of this is simply a recurring nightmare. It probably will be by the time he gets out.
There’s no room there for another winner in this scenario, regardless of whether the host would even allow it. He has always been all or nothing – that’s how he got here in the first place. However, his best bet is to remain a team player for as long as possible, while it remains beneficial to him. Enjoy the connection, the mutual protection, until it comes down to two. Then, if a weapon ever finds itself in his hand, he will make it quick. Between those thick eyebrows, just beneath the soft curls.
“Hyung,” Ali says, in a quiet voice that’s not quite a whisper, disrupting Sangwoo’s train of thought, “are you okay?” He seems genuinely concerned, his eyes darting around briefly to ensure he didn’t draw undue attention.
A bitter laugh escapes Sangwoo before he can swallow the emotion, but he quickly covers for himself with a cough.
No, the thing that took him by surprise wasn’t the dog-eat-dog nature of desperate, lawless humanity. He expected as much. Worse, even.
What shakes him to his core is the overwhelming kindness and unconditional support Ali has offered to people who are strangers to him, people he has no reason to trust.
Like Sangwoo.
All the lights are out, save for the gentle light emanating from the grand prize hanging from the ceiling. It’s barely enough to be able to make out that almost all the remaining contestants are sound asleep in their beds, but more than enough to be able to make out every detail of Ali’s face. The warm, sun-like glow of the solution to all their problems is reflected in Ali’s expressive eyes and carefully outlines his form in a subtle gold.
Right. He’s been staring. Though Ali seems to be looking at him, too, more often than not.
Still, he feels… caught.
“Yes.” Yes, I was just staring at you, he almost says like the desperate and sleep-deprived shell of a man he is, the words still dangerously close to spilling right out, just to see what would happen. “Yes, I’m alright.”
Ali’s eyebrows knit together in something more akin to a pout than a frown, not satisfied Sangwoo’s answer. “I don’t believe you,” he admits, though his tone turns the admission into an apology. He looks up at Sangwoo, pleading. “If something is bothering you, hyung, please let me know. Being distracted tomorrow could mean...”
The sentence remains unfinished.
But it’s not hard to imagine what would come after.
Yeah, he would surely die if his mind wandered during any of the games. It’s not his worst-case scenario, but he’d do some nasty things to avoid it. He doesn’t exactly foresee this happening again, however.
“Hyung,” Ali complains quietly, gently urging him to speak.
“I’ve been thinking about kissing you,” he says, which is much more severe than staring and not exactly true. His mind hasn't gone there just yet. There have only been flashes, in dreams and waking life, of lingering hands and comforting touches, stored away in haste, before they could come to mean anything.
Ali frowns, confused, visibly hesitating. He almost starts to say something, then repeats the word ‘kiss’ to himself. Probably to figure out if he heard that right, and what it might be if he hadn’t. There’s a smirk pulling at the edges of Sangwoo’s mouth that he doesn’t resist, for once. This was already worth it, he thinks, purely on instinct. He loves seeing people flustered.
The haze of exhaustion isn’t entirely unlike the haze that comes with drugs or alcohol. Common sense, verbal filters and other inhibitions may abandon you. It’s a good excuse when you’re looking to indulge potentially unwise impulses.
So…
He places a hand on Ali’s clothed shoulder, reassuring and firm, the same way he’s done so many times before. Except when he releases his grip this time, he slips his hand beneath Ali’s collar, moving up his throat until he reaches the jawline. He slides his thumb right over, a caressing motion across stubble-covered, plump cheeks, while his other fingers occupy themselves with impossibly soft curls at the nape of his neck.
The next game may be the last. If Ali comes to hate him for this, it can’t last very long. Their lives are always at stake, and Sangwoo intends to protect his own first and foremost. Disgust and rejection could make this a lot easier on him. No, it’s not a gamble without merits. Still, he can’t tell whose heart is beating, nor can he tell what emotion belies its off-beat rhythm.
After a single, calculated breath, Sangwoo closes the distance between the two of them – leaning in and pulling a surprised-looking Ali towards him, capturing his mouth with his own.
It suddenly occurs to him that he almost can't remember when he last kissed someone outside of questionable bathroom stalls and cheap motels.
The sensation of Ali’s stubble scratching his face as he moves isn’t even entirely unpleasant, though that may be the mild, irrational euphoria talking. Right now, everything is soft and warm and comforting. With Ali’s bottom lip between his own, he can feel him start to give in to the kiss, a barely audible whine escaping somewhere in the back of his throat. What a beautiful sound.
There’s no need to come up for air, though one of the more sentimental voices in his head suggests he would happily drown in this, but he’s slightly dizzy and needs to regain his composure after that, so he pulls back with significant reluctance.
When he looks at Ali, he’s… smiling. The corners of his eyes suggest he does it quite often. It doesn’t age him at all. Sangwoo’s smiles don’t usually tend to reach that far, but Ali’s joy is particularly infectious.
The smile is a little awkward, flustered, embarrassed, but there’s nothing uncomfortable about it.
“I don’t really understand why, but-”
Somehow, it’s the positive reaction that temporarily fills him with a sense of foreboding -
“I’m glad to share this with you, hyung.”
“Me, too.”
- before he is immediately robbed of it by Ali leaning over him and kissing him this time, the role reversal even sweeter.
They manage to get through the night uncaught and unharmed. Their stolen kisses remain a well-kept secret.
…
When morning comes, so does the announcement for the next game.
They’ll be playing in teams of two.