Work Text:
“Hey, Psycho.”
Jeong-mun glanced behind himself to see Tae-su mounting the crest of the hill, his long legs eating up the steep slope like it was nothing. But Jeong-mun didn’t answer Tae-su’s greeting, he just looked back over to the city spread out below them as Tae-su came to a stop an arm’s length from his side. The sky had been turning to sunset as slowly as a body bleeds out; with a hue almost as sanguine. Jeong-mun didn’t like the comparison but it came to mind unbidden. He shivered slightly.
Tae-su huffed a sigh. “You’re gonna be a free man, soon.”
Jeong-mun looked at him without turning his head. Tae-su’s expression was carefully schooled, but there was something under the surface Jeong-mun couldn’t place. And he was usually good at reading him. Jeong-mun dug his hands deeper into his navy blue hoodie.
“Oh?” He said.
Tae-su lifted a brow. “You are planning on appealing your sentence?”
Trust Tae-su to land directly on the very thing that had been disturbing him. Jeong-mun could do exactly as Tae-su had said. After all, he finally had incontrovertible proof: he wasn’t the serial killer of the Hwayeondong murders. That blood wasn’t on his hands.
But that didn’t make his hands clean.
“Jeong-mun?” Tae-su laid a hand on his shoulder and turned him around so he could look him in the eyes. Or rather eye, since his right one was buried as usual behind his bangs.
Jeong-mun met his gaze, then quickly glanced away.
“Don’t tell me you’re not going to ask.” Tae-su’s voice was dark, almost dangerous, but there was a fragility to it that made Jeong-mun think it might break at any moment. It reminded Jeong-mun of things he’d buried a long time ago; things he had no right to ask of Tae-su.
“For goodness sake, Psycho!” Tae-su’s grip tightened on Jeong-mun’s shoulder before he released him and stepped back. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, as if he was about to strike Jeong-mun.
Jeong-mun almost wanted the excuse to hit him. Bite him. Scream that he had no right to accept so completely someone who didn’t deserve it.
He said nothing. His hands dug deeper into his pockets and he looked back out over the city. The blood sky was starting to dry a dark rust color.
“Please,” Tae-su spoke so quietly Jeong-mun might have missed it if he wasn’t listening already. “Don’t waste your life in prison, Jeong-mun. You could do so much good with your brain and your heart.”
Jeong-mun snorted, disbelieving. His heart? But Tae-su kept talking.
“It was Prosecutor Oh, that bastard, that gave you the test, right? Well I don’t believe it. I don’t believe him. And I don’t believe that someone who feels nothing and cares for no one would save people like you have.” He caught both Jeong-mun’s shoulders this time and spun him around. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you don’t feel anything, Jeong-mun!”
Jeong-mun was shaking, wracked by deep shivers that ran all up and down his spine. He tried to avoid Tae-su’s eyes, but was drawn to them magnetically. They were dark and passionate but it was the concern in them that made him unable to look away. Tae-su was going back to prison, without any of the remission he’d more than earned. He was facing two decades of time, unless he could earn a new set of reductions. And yet here he was, nearly begging Jeong-mun to appeal.
Tears sprang into Jeong-mun’s eyes before he could stop them. They spilled over and ran down his face as he trembled in Tae-su’s hold. In response, Tae-su drew him in and he went, unresisting, to bury his head against Tae-su’s shoulder. He knew he must look ridiculous and weak, but he couldn’t remember the last time that anyone had held him so gently and he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. He just stayed there, breathing harsh into the collar of Tae-su’s thick wool trench coat, now turning damp with his tears. And Tae-su was finally silent, saying nothing with his voice but speaking comfort with his hands, as he rubbed them soothingly into the tense muscles of Jeong-mun’s back.
Over the city, the rust-iron faded to dark grey. Jeong-mun raised his head, looking up to see to his shock that Tae-su’s eyes were also wet. He’d never seen Tae-su cry before and his gut clenched involuntarily. This was his doing. He stepped back and turned away from the cliffside to descend the hill.
“Jeong-mun!” Tae-su called, and his voice cracked the syllables into fragments. “Wait.”
Jeong-mun stopped.
Tae-su caught up to him only a moment later. He must have sprinted the distance, because his breath was heightened.
Jeong-mun stared at his sneakers. “I may not have killed the fifteen but I killed the thieves who murdered my parents. I slaughtered them. Viciously. And I didn’t have to.” He swallowed hard. “I don’t deserve to be free.”
“Neither do I.” Tae-su startled him by agreeing. He picked up Jeong-mun’s right hand and held it in his own bandaged ones. “We both have bloodstains in our pasts, Psycho. And neither of us will ever wash them away.” He raised Jeong-mun’s hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to it.
Jeong-mun’s breath caught and he forgot to avoid Tae-su’s gaze.
“We cannot undo the past,” Tae-su said. “But we can use every day we have left to bring some good into the world.”
He lowered Jeong-mun’s hand and ran his fingertips along the side of Jeong-mun’s face and down to cradle his chin. Then he leaned in and pressed his lips, warm and gentle, to Jeong-mun’s mouth. Jeong-mun gasped against him, overwhelmed yet again by the lavish grace of Tae-su. And then he kissed him back, tentative at first, but soon deeper, hungry, as though he had been starving for years and Tae-su was feeding him with food more nourishing than any he had ever dared hope for.
When they parted, Tae-su’s brows were lowered and his eyes still narrowed in concern. “Lee Jeong-mun, make the appeal. Please.”
Jeong-mun released a deep breath. “Maybe I can do more good on the outside.” He frowned. “But what about our work?”
Tae-su smiled, his eyes sparkling impishly. “If they let us continue, we’re still gonna need a brilliant nerd on the team.”
Jeong-mun couldn’t help quirking a smile in return. “You may have a point.”
He started walking down the hill and Tae-su joined him, slinging an arm over his shoulders as he did.
“Then you’ll appeal your sentence?” Tae-su asked.
“On one condition.”
“Oh?”
“You have to do your best to get out as well.”
“All right,” Tae-su said. He laughed, his white teeth flashing in the dark. “I’ll do that, Psycho.”
Together they headed back into the city, toward the prison cells which they would hopefully soon be leaving behind for good.