Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Throughout this fic, music was picked out that you can listen to in the background if you’d like during a scene! Whenever you see an underlined word, click on it (not this time, nothing in this example) and it will send you to a youtube link of the song that you can put in the background in some separate tab while you read. 

Every song & written scene combo has been timed so that it (more or less, everyone has different reading speeds and I keep that in mind!) fits the time frame of how long a scene lasts while reading and how long the song does. Most soundtracks are from the Squid Game show and they add a lot to the atmosphere, and I– as someone who loves listening to music while reading– highly recommend reading alongside the music if you enjoy that type of stuff!

That’s all. Fully gonna go now. 

Happy Reading <3

The summer sun basked its rays across the playground, burning its sand into lava and boiling the air into an open furnace. 

Sweat bubbled across Sunny’s skin and he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, the stickiness unimportant as he pressed his back against the Yellow Cat’s metal, trying to keep himself as still and silent as he could as his shoulder’s skin sizzled with a sunburn he wouldn’t notice until he went back home. 

By the swings, two kids prowled, small gaps in their grins of the missing teeth they put under the pillow just last night. Kel was inside the Cat, somehow withstanding the heat that Sunny knew was trapped in there, and Basil by a tree, shaking like a leaf with fear. Not at the height, but of the taggers that’d passed below his branch one too many times, somehow missing him again and again. 

Countless other kids hid and ducked beneath many other spots. Sunny didn’t know all of them. Mari did, but she was on a date with Hero now. Bummer. He desperately wanted some water, and she usually brought some along snacks in her picnics whenever they went to the park together. 

A gasp from somewhere to the right– “FOUND YOU!”– and Sunny didn’t realize the shrieking voice was talking about him until Kimberly’s pounding footsteps began rushing his way. Adrenaline shot through him like a bullet and he jumped to his feet, stumbling away from the Cat and sprinted as fast as he could–

One second ago, the world itself held its breath as Kim and Vance sniffed out the statued hiders. But he wasn’t the only one who heard Kim’s victorious scream, and soon enough other kids assumed their spots were found, too. 

Chaos broke out. 

More screaming. More running. Some laughter, too. Somehow.  

While drowning in the heat of the summer, Sunny was almost grateful for having an excuse to tap out once Kim tagged him with a too-hard slap on the arm, the kind that tingled terribly seconds and seconds after. He gave her a hopefully convincing groan of disappointed defeat, before collapsing with exhaustion into the nearest bench, the wood prickly, sticky, super uncomfortable, but still a relief. 

“WHOA, WHOA, WHOA, PAUSE! PAUSE!!!”

Kel’s yelling, a voice crack somewhere in the sentence. 

Sunny didn’t have to look to know that Aubrey– a seeker, this round– had pinned him to the ground again. She always caught people by tackling, a skill she learned from Kimberly. And when it came to Kel, well… they always got a little too rough with it, even the other way around (something Hero always admonished him for). 

The game ended a minute later with the remaining hiders having won. 

Basil hopped down from his tree, giving Sunny a too-pleased smile, sunlight haloing the blond of his hair into strands of white. Not a surprised smile, though. He usually won, it was always super hard to find him. Sunny tried to offer one back, but quickly looked away so that he could drop it. 

He didn’t really like this game. Hide and Seek. But his friends did, so he always ended up playing along. It was different at times, the rules– it depended on who gave the idea to start. 

He liked Mari’s version the best, which was luckily the one they were using now instead of Kim’s ‘draw the short stick’ stupidity. 

Teams instead of individuals. 

Draw cards, gain a side. 

Hider. Seeker. 

Three minutes to hide, ten minutes to find. The winning team gets to pick their role in the next round. 

So many summer days spent out by Sunny’s backyard, crawling behind bushes, hanging onto branches of trees, dodging through trunks and trying to lose the tagger somewhere in the winding midst of the woods– because it was by touch that the tag counted. Not by sight alone. Another point for the teams. They made it easier for the taggers to double up and ‘hunt’, or for the hiders to help each other out more. 

“One more!”

Aubrey’s voice, laughter ringing through both the words. Unsurprising. She always, always won when she was seeker. 

Not as a hider, though. Kel was too loud to hide properly, but he was much faster than her when tagging. A reason for many fights between the two whenever they were picking out teams. And Hero always sighed when they argued, Mari giggling softly by his side as she patted his shoulder. 

“They’re gonna kill each other one of these days, Mari…”

Sunny himself never tried too hard. If Basil’s hiding spot was found (a rare thing), he got caught easily with his asthma and all. He usually just sat down by his sister’s picnic, his best friend resting next to him, the two drinking lemonade and eating sandwiches as the wind cooled the sweat on their skin. It always felt the same, and the memories blurred together into associations instead of moments. Dirt flying in the air, itchy scratches by his knees and palms of his hands, sore muscles and a hurting stomach by the end from laughing too hard to breathe. 

…maybe Sunny did like this game. 

Or he used to, at least.

Nine years ago. 

Sunny tilted the glass vase set on top of Mari’s bedside table, one filled with a bouquet of flowers his mom bought from Fix-It’s store last night. His chest was foggy with clouds, mind swirling, eyes drooping, half-awake. His usual state. His muscles ached now, too, much like they did once after climbing up trees for too many hours. Except they were sore from stiffness, not movement. The stiffness of sitting hunched over a bed for too long. 

The air was icy in the hospital, but to Sunny’s muted perception, it had buzzed into a lukewarm static over his long accustomed skin. The beeping of the heart’s monitor was soothing in its familiar repetitiveness, and the walls were a sterile white, white, white. Everything in this place was colorless. Dull. Clinical. And day after day after day rotting beside a still-living corpse, it felt infinite in its confinement. 

A place to survive, but not to live.

Not that he deserved either of those things. 

He sank down into the sofa he’d pushed to rest against Mari’s feet, his warm hand intertwining with the cold glove of her skin. He bent over to rest his head against her legs, closing his eyes. 

With the breeze of the AC overhead, his hair was gently brushed. Sunny focused on the feeling of his sister’s fingers running through his hair, drinking in her sweet flowery scent, ignoring with practiced ease the itchy flatness of her blankets. 

“I love you, little brother,” she said, purple hair swaying, smiling brightly down at him. So alive. Awake. 

A card rested in his pocket. Small, beige, thick. Heavy with the promise of what could be millions of dollars. Of treatment. 

Sunny loved her too. 

And he would do anything, anything, to finally say it back. 

Public park bathrooms absolutely sucked. 

The flickering glare from the overhead light was too bright and painful to the eyes, and Kel winced at his pounding headache, trying to keep his eyes to the sink as he leaned sideways against the mirror.

It was dirty by the edges. The sink. Icky brown corrosion accumulating right where the porcelain met the wall, the pearly white material was barely visible beneath so much grime. A drop of red suddenly bloomed, right next to the faucet’s handle, dropping within a tiny puddle of water that he didn’t wipe dry just yet. Another drop, a deeper red. Then another, and another, until the small dome of blood accumulated too much not to move, sliding down the curve of the sink in a slow trail, rolling and rolling until it reached the drain. 

Kel groaned, a painful thing to do in his current state. His ringing phone was nudged between his shoulder and mirror as he used a trembling hand to open the faucet. The metal was cold beneath his grip, slick with his sweat. There was a creak before water poured down, washing the red away. The grime remained. 

“Please leave a message when–”

Voicemail. Again. 

Dang it, Hero. Of all times to be in his hyper-focused studying state…

Kel forced himself off the mirror, trying not to stumble, grabbing his phone and slipping it into his pocket. The faucet was still open, the water still running, so he shoved his hands beneath the ice cold stream and bit back a whimper. Oh, it hurt. It was only bruises and cuts and cracked skin, but it still hurt and burned as if he had mistakenly put his hands inside liquid fire instead. 

The overhead light flickered momentarily, brighter and dimmer until settling again. Kel ignored it. 

One more call. He would wash his face once his nose stopped bleeding (again, stupidly enough, he thought he stopped it minutes ago but guess not) and fix himself up, and he would give Hero one more call. If he didn’t pick up then, he would call Mom. Sure, he’d have to suffer through another huge lecture, but that was better than walking home in the dark. Ish. No, not ish, definitely better. Last thing he wanted was to stumble into those stupid gangsters or whatever again. 

“Haha… really, guys, uhm… I just forgot my wallet… it’s a silly mistake, right? You know me, h-haha, I’ll– I’ll pay you guys back soon, promise! T-tomorrow, even, just gimme, like, twenty four more hours and, uh–”

“Cut the fuckery Kel! We gave you that shit weeks ago, where the hell’s our payback? Don’t you tell me you lost again? Is that it? Is it?!” 

“N-no! No! Noooo, totally not, I swear, I literally just forgot my wallet, I’ll bring it tomorrow, by our usual spot, I promise, it’s okay, it’s–”

Then a punch. And a lot of slaps and some freakishly sharp nails. Some kicks too he was sure, but he probably got a concussion or something because he couldn’t remember the last few minutes all that well. 

Kel sighed, his fingers beginning to go numb beneath the running water. 

Those guys were no joke. It was a scary reminder, sometimes, but he was getting good at being braver nowadays. But still. It was scary, the way they hurt people so easily. Hurt him so easily. At least they agreed to give him another week after getting their anger out. That’s okay. He’d have enough by then. Probably. No, definitely. He had a good feeling about next time. Then he could buy Hero his 24th-birthday gift he’d been saving up for. Or, well, trying to save up for. 

After he paid back the money he owed of course. 

…the money he owed. 

He focused instead on splashing water on his face, on cleaning himself off. Because it was fine. Everything was going to be okay. 

He just needed to win once. 

Just once. 

He had a good feeling about next time. All he had to do was stay positive. 

The ice water was turned off. He couldn’t feel his fingers or the metal of the faucet. Water dripped down his chin and Kel looked up, staring at his reflection in the graffitied mirror. He looked… awful, honestly. His long hair broke loose somewhere during the fight– well, beat-down, whatever– and it had curled into a rat’s nest, poofing up to the sides and some of it sticking to his cheeks and neck. His orange jacket looked brown thanks to age and sticking dirt, his shirt underneath was pulled loose, and his trusty jeans were now ripped unfashionably by the knees. Ugh, there were blood spots everywhere and everything. Mom was going to kill him. 

If she let him in the house, anyway. Wouldn’t want to scare Sally with her “delinquent big brother”. 

Gosh, he missed Sally. He should offer to babysit again sometime. 

But not today. Mom would definitely say no today. 

…yeahhhh, on second thought, maybe he should just walk back to his own apartment. It wasn’t too long of a walk. Sure, he wouldn’t have a warm dinner or a first-aid kit, but maybe he could ask Hero to send him some Apple Cash or whatever to buy stuff himself? The best spice was hunger, and good old ramen or mac n’ cheese didn’t sound half bad after the crappy day he had. 

Kel wiped his face with the sleeves of his jacket, reached into his pocket, and pulled out his phone. He looked down. 

The screen was cracked as heck, one slice straight across and a thousand smaller ones spreading out in a lightning-like pattern. Ooof. At this point, even Dad would kill him. There was no way he could call his parents. 

He went directly for Hero’s contact. Again. 

Hit call. 

The phone rang. 

And rang.  

And rang. 

And rang. 

“Sorry, the person you’re trying to reach cannot answer the phone right now. Please leave a mes–”

Kel ended the call and turned his phone off in one click. He stared at his reflection on the black splintered screen. At his swollen cheeks. Red stained nose. 

Something inside of him sank. 

…whatever. He didn’t need a drive anyway. He loved to walk. He loved exercise. And he had twenty bucks in his drawer, he was sure of it. He could buy some McDonalds or some bandaids and stuff. 

It didn’t matter. 

Everything was okay. 

Kel stuffed his phone into his jacket and left the dingy public bathroom, stepping out to the chilly air. 

Next to the toilet hut outside, on a tall wooden pole, an old rusted metal camera was attached, small LED dot glowing bright red against the black darkness of the night. Recording every shift of the wind. 

If Kel had to describe his apartment in two words, he’d pick ‘tiny’ and ‘cramped’. The fact that he’d use both his words to describe the same idea of small was somehow still understating things. 

There were two main rooms. The crappy bathroom, which consisted of a crappy toilet, crappy sink, and a crappy shower, and then the super awesome kitchen-living-bedroom, which was where he spent most of his time. Technically speaking there were three main rooms, if he counted the rusted metal balcony that overlooked the busy city below. He didn’t. 

It was dark when he stepped inside, dark enough for him to feel the phantom weight of the air itself press against his body. The door swung close behind him and he turned the lock with a click, not bothering to turn the lights on. It would only make his headache worse. Kel felt around the walls to orient himself as his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, dropping his keys inside the porcelain bowl that sat by the entry hallway cabinet. Hopefully the jingle wouldn’t wake Hector Jr, but then again, the young beagle pup always slept deeply. He wasn’t too worried. 

Kel slowly tiptoed towards his unmade bed, careful not to step around the general region Hector Jr slept.

There was an antique-looking lamp by his bedside windowsill, one whose light was dim enough to work as a nightlight whenever he had bad dreams. He climbed on top of his bed, shoving past pillows and crawling his way over to the window with moderate difficulty, shaking knees and hands sinking into the mattress. He huffed quietly, too tired and bruised to not feel exhausted already, and finally managed to turn the small lamp on with a gentle twist of its knob. 

The pitch black state of his apartment lifted immediately with the soft orange-yellow glow of the bulb, walls washed in warm tones and the window’s glass going from translucent to something akin to a dark mirror thanks to the light’s subtle glare.  

Kel smiled a little to himself, breathing out a small chuckle. There we go, now he was getting somewhere!

He scrambled back off, almost pulling the blanket to the floor in his hurry, and turned to his kitchen. A small woof made him stop though, and he glanced down at the dog bed that sat beside his own. Hector Jr was awake, little snout peeking up and tail wagging, black puppy eyes staring up at him with that goofy little tongue smile. Kel grinned, chest already that much lighter, and walked over to crouch down and scratch the back of the pup’s ears just so, in the way he knew was best.

“Heyyy Hector… go back to sleep, ‘kay?” he whispered, and Hector Jr nuzzled into his hand, giving a few gentle licks. Right where some of the cuts and scratches were. Kel didn’t wince. The tongue was soft, and if anything, it made the wounds hurt less. “Heh, thanks little guy. Now go to bed, we’re going to the dog park tomorrow, it’s gonna be a big day and you need rest!”

Frankly he didn’t want to go back to the dog park, not after tonight, but Hector Jr was cooped up long enough. 

The next lick hit a spot with more nerves than Kel expected, and this time he did wince. He covered that up with a small cough and rubbed Hector’s head one last time, standing up. That was the perfect reminder to grab those dollars he came here for. 

“Okay, go night night now. Kel’s just gonna go buy some stuff, okay?”

With that, he left for the kitchen. It was just as small as the rest of his apartment, made up of one isle full of drawers that worked as both the main countertop and as his dinner table, one mini fridge, one oven, and one (overflowing with dirty dishes) sink. There was dust everywhere and an ocean of orange joe cans and pizza boxes scattered around, messy enough that Kel knew he would make for the perfect charity case of some deep-clean reality show. 

He opened up one of the drawers. Tons and tons of crumbled bills and unpaid tickets slapped him across the face and Kel grimaced, shutting it immediately. Nope, wrong place to look. He opened the next drawer and– oh that’s where he put those casino loan reminders, he was wondering where that went… nevermind, wrong place to look. Again. 

He opened the third drawer with yet another woosh, the one second closest to the wall– and paused. 

Paused hard. 

Mari’s medical bills stared up at him, white and blue and formal in all the disgustingly clinical ways her bills were. 

…ah. 

What was that doing there? 

Hero must have left it here from the last time he visited a few weeks ago, probably. He was always the one helping Sunny’s mom pay up whenever it became too much and too urgent. Kel stared at the numbers of the bill, gut twisting. Not that they ever managed to pay it in full. Not that Mari was ever going to wake up again. 

He shut the drawer with too much force, sighing sharply out his nose. Don’t think about that. 

Whatever. Wrong place to look. 

Kel turned to the last drawer, the one that was right against the chipping wall. It was cast in shadow, the countertop’s black marble extending past the edge and stopping the warm glow from the lamp from reaching even the protruded knob.

Last place he could look. His wallet was empty, after all. And he didn’t keep his money anywhere else. 

He sighed, and grabbed the knob, scrunching his eyes shut tight. He tried to visualize a twenty dollar bill in his head, because manifestation and all that stuff he’s read about in some article somewhere (or maybe he just heard about it in a Youtube Short, who knew), trying to imagine vividly how it would feel when seeing that lovely green color, and oh look at that big number twenty on the corner…

“…ooommmm… pleaseeeee… woooork… ooooommm…” 

Okay, enough witchcraft. 

Kel pulled the drawer open and, after a beat of hesitation in which every muscle in his body tensed, he peeked down with one eye. 

His gut sank, shoulders slumping as disappointment relaxed his posture. 

Nothing. 

It was completely empty. 

“Oh, come on,” he grumbled and slipped his hand inside, patting down the entire thing as he tried to feel for something. Anything. Anything at all. “Come on, come on, come on, there has to be…” 

His fingers brushed against something that was tucked to the farthest corner. 

Kel gasped as his heart spiked with a shot of hope, and he snatched the thing immediately, relieved brain not processing the hardness of the edges that were too thick to be a bill. He giggled madly as he brought it up to his face, about to bless the powers of real life wizardry–

He froze. 

Ah. 

Right. 

That thing. 

He forgot he put it there a few days ago. On the night that creepy (and painfully strong, those slaps hurt) salesman approached. 

The beige business card stared at him with an invisible but petrifying gaze, those symbols horribly vivid in his mind’s eye, memory outlining the lines into something strikingly visible even as the card faced away from the lamp’s light. Only three shapes. Circle, triangle, square. 

Kel dropped it over the countertop, watching it slide across for a few seconds before friction made it stop. He stared, lips thinning and brows furrowing. 

“Excuse me. Would you like to play a game with me, sir?” 

He shouldn’t have said yes. 

"Here are your fifty dollars.” 

And worse, he shouldn’t have stuck around until he won. 

Kel sighed, scratching the back of his scalp. 

If he had left as soon as he lost the first time, he could’ve just written the Salesman off as a nutjob or something and called it a day. But noooo, he just had to win. Because next time he would get it, or surely the time after that, and just one more game, he was so close! 

Then the guy had to go and actually stick to his promise, make it feel like it wasn’t a scam after all. 

Like it was a fair game. 

“Hm. You lost.” 

The Salesman extended out a hand, open palm waiting for fifty dollars that Kel didn’t have. He couldn’t bring himself to move. Or to explain. 

But, it seemed he didn’t need to, as the Salesman smiled a moment after, the tug of his lips a little too knowing. 

“Ah. You can’t pay me back, can you? Don’t worry. You can pay with your body.”

Kel shuddered at the memory of the viscous slap across the face that followed that phrase.

This whole deal was shady. The card, the man, what he promised– everything. It was really shady, like, black market or something level of shady, and Kel knew that. ‘Free money’ was never ever free. As Hero always reminded him whenever they spoke of scams and all, “if you’re not buying the product, you are the product”. 

That was the main reason he shoved the thing deep into his least-used drawer in the first place. 

Out of sight, out of mind, out of danger of making a very, very, very stupid decision. 

“...there are games where you can win much more than this. Surely the thought is tempting, no?” 

“Ah. I’m not, uh, interested, b-but thanks for the offer dude! Haha.. hah… erm, anyway, uh, I’m just not the type of person to want to join something like that. Sorry.” 

The Salesman paused. Smiled. 

He stood up from his seat. Slowly, calmly, hands politely clasped behind his back. Kel followed the movement with his eyes, trying to offer a weak smile in return and stifling back a nervous chuckle as he pocketed his hard-earned money away before the guy changed his mind. His cheeks stung.

“W-well! Anyway, uhm, have a good night, I’ll be seeing you around and–”

“Mr. Kelsey.” 

Kel stopped. Stared. 

He never introduced himself.

The Salesman looked down at him, wearing that pacifying smile that didn’t offer any comfort. 

A growing chill settled in his chest, the cold sinking down to his stomach. 

“...you know me, sir?” 

The man tilted his head with a cordiality that felt dangerous, smiling growing warmer. 

The pit in Kel’s gut turned colder. 

“Your name is Kelsey Garcia-Cruz, you are twenty two years old born on November 11th of 1998 as the product of an unexpected pregnancy. You graduated from Faraway High School with a 2.76 GPA and an astonishing background in varsity-level basketball that gave you a scholarship in your hometown’s college– one that you lost, unfortunately, when your academic performance proved too lacking, leading you to drop out before the end of your second year.”

Kel’s heart began to pick up in pace. Beating loudly between his ribs.

“Your mother kicked you out to teach you a lesson regarding opportunity, with the intention to help you to find your footing while you lived on your own. Unfortunately this did not go as planned, as three years ago your father lost his job during a mass layoff in his department, cutting off your main source of financial stability from the root.” 

His skin felt tight, his body too warm. 

“You’ve been jumping from odd jobs to odd jobs ever since, but none are ever enough to be of any substantiality. Four hours ago you gambled five hundred dollars away in Azalea’s Casino. You’ve gone there daily for the last eighteen months, winning an impressive sum of twenty thousand dollars over the course of that time– but despite your best efforts you are still sinking in crippling debt, owing more than fifteen thousand to loan sharks, four thousand to your parents, and thirty two thousand dollars to the bank.”  

Silence fell. 

It was stifling. 

“What… what do you want from me?” asked Kel, voice thin, throat dry. 

The Salesman only continued to smile. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card.

“See this as another opportunity, sir. All I want to do is offer it. All you should do is not waste it.”  

Kel grabbed the card and shoved it back into the drawer, slamming it closed. 

Nope, nope, nope. 

Shady stuff. 

He wasn’t that desperate. He wasn’t! No thanks. 

A buzz vibrated against his leg and Kel flinched in surprise, glancing down at his pocket.

Oh. It was just his phone. 

He grabbed it and pulled it out, staring as the cracked screen lit up to show Hero’s name and profile photo. Wow. So now he was available? Kel tried not to feel bitter about something as stupid as this, so he just sighed and clicked ‘answer’, bringing the phone to his ear. 

“Heya bro, wassup?” 

“Hey Kel,” said Hero, voice pleasant as always. Judging by the background noise of rain and the glitchy noises of the wind, he was outside. “Is everything alright? You tried to call me? Sorry about the wait by the way. I was busy. Do you need anything?” 

“Oh. That. Yeah. I m-mean,” Kel stuttered out, and coughed. “No! No, yeah, no, no, no. No worries here. Uhm. It’s all good. It was nothing. We’re all good now.”

“Are… you sure? I can–”

“Super sure. I just needed you to pick me up from somewhere, couldn’t drive home. It’s okay.” 

There was a pause, and Kel immediately realized what he said. 

Crap. 

“What?! Don’t tell me you got your driver’s license suspended again?” Hero scolded, and then immediately sighed, sounding so disappointed Kel wanted to curl up and die a little. “Kel, we talked about this–”

“Noooo, no, nothing like that! I just, uhm, I went out with some friends and like…uhm, they had to leave early, but then like, I couldn’t catch a ride, and I totally forgot that, like, I didn’t bring my car, and uhm…”

“Kel. You’re terrible at lying.” 

The comment was annoying because it was right. He sighed. 

“Whatever. Look, it’s fine.” Kel leaned against the counter of his kitchen with his elbows, watching his dark reflection on the window as he switched his phone to the other side. “How are you doing, anyway? How are your classes treating our favorite doctor?”

Hero sighed, again, and Kel could imagine the growing frown on his brother’s face. But thankfully enough he relented to the very blunt switch of topics.

“I’m doing okay. Classes are going fine.” Another pause, but this time it lasted longer. Kel stayed frozen in his position, something in his gut twisting at the silence. The mic only picked up rain and wind for another few seconds before Hero spoke again. “Hey, uhm. Is it okay if I spend another weekend at your place? Brothers getaway weekend, what do you say?” 

The tone was light, but the implications were not. 

It was Kel’s turn to frown. 

“Is everything okay?”

Silence. 

Kel may be bad at lying, but Hero– while extremely talented in it to a freakishly weird amount– was averse to dishonesty completely. He hated lying, hated lying to Kel especially, so immediately the reluctant quiet sparked all the wrong alarms in his head. 

“Oh my gosh. Wait.” Rage began to bubble in his gut. No way. It better not be. “Wait, please don’t tell me he kicked you out again, because I swear–” 

“What? Oh. Oh! No, no, he didn’t, really, it’s just–”

“I’m going to beat the crap out of your landlord. I will and you can tell him that! He should fear me! Didn’t you already pay last month?!”

“It isn’t–”

“Or, well, I know you pay monthly anyway, but you get my point, he needs to be a little more patient and–” 

“Kel, it’s not my landlord!” The sudden sharpness in Hero’s tone made him fall silent. Kel swallowed, frown deepening, but stayed quiet, waiting for Hero to elaborate. Once he stopped talking, Hero stayed quiet himself a few seconds longer before continuing, his voice softer. “It’s… it’s not that. Sorry for yelling. I guess I just, ah, want some company. Among other things. I know Christmas is coming up and we’re going to see each other anyway but… can I stay over? I’ll bring food and new dog toys for Junior.” 

“You don’t have to bribe me, Hero,” reminded Kel gently, gaze traveling away from his reflection and down to his hands. He’d have to treat and wrap them as soon as possible. If Hero was coming over this weekend, he needed to not look like he got his crap beaten out of him only a few days prior. “You know the answer is yes. Always is.” 

Hero sighed with relief, as if he thought it’d be no. “Thanks, Kel.” 

“No prob’.”

They continued to talk a little after that, as they usually did. About easier things, like this one show they’ve both been watching, and how Hector Jr was driving Kel nuts by eating all his food, and how the students Hero was tutoring during his TA office hours were hopeless, and other stuff like that. It was nice. A good little break of all the stress Kel had built up over the day. 

About fifteen minutes passed before Hero hit him with the, “in any case, I’m gonna go. Talk to you later?” 

“You got it. Take care,” said Kel on reflex. 

“Love you. Bye.” 

Hero hung up as soon as Kel realized his mistake. Crap. He forgot to ask about the twenty bucks. 

Kel groaned and hit ‘call’. Luckily it took Hero less than three seconds to answer. 

“...yeah?” 

“Sorry. Uhm. Can I borrow twenty bucks?” That might not cover everything now that he thought about it. “Or… uh… more like thirty? Thirty five?” 

“Oh.” 

A beat. Kel tried not to feel squeamish. 

“Well, ah, sure. Can I ask why?” 

Why. 

Why, why, why. 

Because Kel was broke, that’s why. 

“To feed the poor.” 

Hero snorted, and the sound unwound a knot that had formed in his stomach. 

“Alright, just for you Mr. Philanthropist. I’ll send it through later.” 

“Oh my gosh, you’re a lifesaver, Hero! Should give you a Best Big Brother trophy or something, haha… uhm, anyway. Thanks so much! See you on Saturday.” 

It was a little hard to hear Kel over the rain, but Hero could pick up on the giddy relief in that tone as clear as day. 

“Uhuh, see you. But pay me back later this week okay, and don’t spend all the money in one pla–” Hero began, but then there was a click as Kel hung up. He held back a sigh. Figures. “...goddamnit, Kel.” 

He shook his head fondly and brought the phone down from his ear– 6% left, he really needed to get home soon– slipping it into his jacket’s pocket. 

The bus stop was entirely empty, which made sense considering it was eleven something on a random Tuesday night and rain had been pouring down non-stop for the past thirty minutes. Hero stood shivering beneath the glass roof of the stop, cold hands in his pockets that failed to provide much warmth. 

He should’ve been inside the bus about five minutes ago, but there was a delay for one reason or another. And so here he was now. Standing alone. In the rain. In the pitch black dark of night. In the freezing, terrible, unbearable cold, the kind that frosted his cheeks and chapped his lips. All he could do was wait around until he heard the bus’ screeching halts or saw the yellow flare of its headlights, and waiting was getting very old very fast. 

A gust of ice-cold wind blew past and Hero nuzzled deeper into his jacket, taking another step back. 

Goodness, he hated winter. 

He backed up further until his legs hit the rusted bust stop seat that was cold enough for him to feel the metallic chill seep through his jeans. After briefly weighing the pros and cons in his head, Hero internally said fuck it and sat down, swallowing down yet another shiver as the seat shot a wave of icy pins into the skin of his entire bottom half.  

This bus couldn’t get here any sooner. 

Hero sighed as he rested into the glass pane of the map behind him, his warm breath blooming a gust of visible vapor in the cold air. He tapped his feet impatiently, subconsciously keeping the sound rhythmic with the rain, and stared out. Ahead of him was nothing but the road, the white paint of the arrows and whatnot faded and chipping, and there was some closed gas station building by the opposite side that ate up what little view of the horizon he had. 

A row of old street lights ran through the middle of the street. It was by far the most interesting thing to look at. Their flickering beams were random and unpredictable, some of the bulbs even broken and leaving periodic spaces of nothing but darkness. He just watched nothing happen and waited, and waited, and waited, the seconds ticking by at a torturously slow pace. His fingers twitched, and he curled his hand into a fist, fighting down the image of a bottle of wine. He already had enough tonight. He had enough. 

With so much time and so little to do, his mind wandered. 

Wandered to every little thing he didn’t want to think about.

He had to get five more things done today before he could sleep– finish planning out his TA lectures for tomorrow morning send money to Kel get himself some dinner (how much food should he buy how much money can he save) make himself said dinner clean out his room before bed and wait he also had to email Mari’s mother check in on her he already helped last month and he wasn’t sure if he could send over more money this time but depending on the amount needed he could take that one gig that Eleanor offered the other day and– but wait that mixed up with his Café hours that’s why he said no at first wasn’t it but the boss liked him he was the best employee so if he called in sick for one week it shouldn’t be too bad– no no no he couldn’t do that it would cut his pay and he needed enough to pay off his rent to Mr. Williams and he needed to finish paying for this quarter’s classes as soon as possible or else registration would close before next week so maybe…

…and on and on and on it went. 

He bounced his leg, the heel of his foot tapping down the floor in a constant thud thud thud. 

Where. Was. The. Bus. 

Hero exhaled sharply out his nose, letting his eyes slide shut. The darkness behind his eyelids felt more suffocating than comforting, so it took less than a second before he opened them again, gazing back at the street. 

And, for the first time in what felt like an hour, something caught his attention. 

Movement. 

Walking beneath the flickering street lights was someone. Someone he hadn’t spotted before. 

The pouring glow reached less than half of the figure, haloing a black umbrella that shielded them from both rain and light. It cast a curtain of shadow over their body as they stepped their way across, entirely unbothered by the pitter-pattering droplets while they parted through the streaks of highlighted rain, shoulders and silhouette outlined faintly white by the light reflecting from the pond-like ground. 

It was a man, Hero realized once the figure got close enough to see. The stranger wore a fitted suit that screamed I am a businessman in bold letters, carrying a sleek briefcase as he headed Hero’s way at a steady pace. Technically speaking the man was heading the bus stop’s way, not Hero’s, but the outcome was the same. He wore this pleasant expression on his face, crinkled eyes, soft smile– one that felt almost fixed to his features. Almost unnerving, but not quite. 

…well. Enough staring. Hero looked away before the guy noticed, nipping at his nails. He was in no mood for polite conversation or small talk and the stranger surely felt the same. A silent agreement of mutual indifference fell between them and Hero tried not to sigh, already mentally preparing himself for the next few minutes of awkward silence he’d have to bear through. 

Surprisingly though, said agreement was quickly broken.

Hero heard the muted clatter of the bouncing droplets against the umbrella before he heard the stranger’s slowing footsteps, ones that stopped as soon as he arrived beneath the glass roof. There was a click as the umbrella was closed and a rattle as it was shaken dry, and the soft taps of the man’s oxfords broke through the white noise of the rain, footsteps heading directly in his direction instead of the other (very much empty) bench about six feet away. 

“May I speak to you, sir?” 

Hero looked up at the sound of the stranger’s gentle voice, his words carrying the trails of an accent. 

The Korean man stood before him with effortless finesse, calmly looking down at Hero as he offered a close-lipped smile. He had pale skin, dark eyes, and short straight black hair that was damp from the humidity of the rain, droplets sticking to a few dangling strands. 

“Oh… of course,” said Hero after a short pause, trying to offer a polite smile in return as he shuffled slightly to the side, closer to the edge. Mr. Stranger nodded gratefully, seemingly satisfied as he sat down on the opposite side, allowing for a fair amount of distance to breathe between the two of them. 

He made himself comfortable, straightening out his back, fixing nonexistent folds around his sleeves and waist, all that petty vanity stuff. Hero briefly wondered whether he could feel any cold– that fancy gray suit didn’t look all too warm for this weather. Hopefully he was wearing some form of a warm undershirt or something. 

Mr. Stranger picked up his briefcase from the ground, setting it down right in the middle of their seat as he turned to face Hero. 

“I would like to offer you an opportunity, sir,” he said, and pushed the case further out with weighed deliberation, meeting Hero’s gaze with this strangest air of what could only be described as calculated sincerity. 

…ah. Hero had to hold back an understanding nod of the head, keeping his polite smile. 

So that’s what this guy’s deal was. He was a scammer. Or rather, a ‘salesman’. 

Great. 

Logically, Hero knew he should shut this conversation down immediately. Don’t give them time to bait you and all that. But honestly? Indulging for a little while wouldn’t harm anyone as long as he didn’t fall for it. Which he wouldn’t do, of course. Besides, he was bored, his phone was almost dead, and this was the first thing that successfully kept his mind off of the cold. Plus, it’d be rude to decline the offer before even knowing the man’s proposition anyway. 

“That’s very kind of you.” Hero glanced down at the briefcase that sat between them, staring at its wet-shiny surface. His distorted and faded reflection stared back. He gestured at it vaguely, glancing back up. “What is this… opportunity of yours, if I may ask?”

The Salesman said nothing at first, hands reaching out and fluidly clicking open the latches of his bag. 

“Let’s play a game. You're familiar with the many variations of rock paper scissors, I’m sure?” 

Hero couldn’t help the mild spark of surprise. Huh. So this guy just wanted to play games to pass the time? That wasn’t too bad, actually. Perhaps he’d misjudged him too quickly. 

He nodded, watching with detached but slowly growing interest as the unlocked briefcase was turned around to face him. “Yeah I’m pretty familiar, I used to play it a lot as a kid. My brother was very into it, had a pet rock and everything, our old town even had this game system with a tournament and everything and… ah. That’s, well, that’s besides the point. Is this what you want to pl–” 

The briefcase popped open, and Hero blanched.

Buried within the protective charcoal foam were stacked rows and rows of tightly packed fifty dollar bills. Hero could tell at a single glance that there was twice as much money kept within a singular rectangle of space than he’d saved up the whole month. To the left region of the briefcase, the side closer to the road, were two piles of cards. Their backs didn’t tip him off to a brand he could recognize, one pile blue and the other red.  

He swallowed down a quickly drying throat, a cold creeping up his spine that had nothing to do with the weather. This was too much money for some casual kid’s game. 

Hero looked up just in time to see the Salesman tilt his head at him. 

“Both the red and blue piles hold cards with the rock, paper, or scissors symbol. We will each draw three cards from our respective pile, we’ll play three rounds, and if you win the most, you’ll get fifty dollars as your prize.” 

“What’s the catch?” Hero asked immediately. 

The Salesman's smile widened, but not into a grin or a smirk– it merely grew millimeter by millimeter, folding joyful crinkles by the corners of his eyes that felt as empty as they did genuine. 

“If I win, you’ll give me the same amount. What do you say?” 

Nope. 

Fuck this, nevermind what he said earlier. Scam, scam, scam. 

Hero laughed a little too nervously, shaking his head. “Ah, thanks for the offer, but I’m not interested.” 

“The chances of your win…” began the Salesman, patient, professional, much too smooth and prepared. This needed to stop now. Before he managed to do his job properly.  

“I-I’m sorry,” cut in Hero a little too quickly, hardening his voice into something firmer. He always used to be terrible at this as a child, but he’d gotten better with age. Didn’t mean it wasn’t nerve wracking all the same. “My answer is no. I don’t want to play. Or, well, I don’t want to gamble. I’m more than happy to play with you just for the sake of it, but not– not with the money. I wish the best for your business, but… ah, I’m just not a good client.”

The Salesman closed his mouth, and it was hard to tell if the way his smile didn’t waver was a good thing or not. He paused and glanced to the side, watching the empty street as he let out a low hum. 

Rain pattered against the glass roof, filling the dense silence as more and more seconds of quiet passed. 

Not too much time passed, however, before the Salesman nodded to himself, looking back at Hero. 

“Very well. I understand completely. Have a good night, sir.”

Without another word he slowly stood, his hands once again leisurely smoothening out invisible wrinkles from his suit. Maybe it was some sort of a nervous tick. 

As he took his time to turn around and grab the umbrella, Hero’s eyes couldn’t help but flicker away from the stranger’s lean figure to the suitcase he had yet to close shut, gaze landing on the dimly lit bills of easy cash. 

No matter how hard he tried, something inside of him didn’t allow him to look away. 

All you have to do is play rock paper scissors and win once or twice and you could pay mom back for last week’s fiasco you could get enough money for this week’s meals you could pay back Alex for his borrowed bottles of wine you could pay for a bus to Faraway you could afford a visit to Mari afford a visit to Mari afford a visit to Mari visit Mari visit Mari visit Mari visit Mari visit Mari for once you piece of shit even after everything you still– Hero stopped. Shoved the thoughts deep deep deep down before they planted themselves into his head.

There was a click and a that typical push-of-air sound as the Salesman popped his umbrella open, tipping it straight and balancing the handle effortlessly, holding it so perfectly upright one would think he considered mediocrity a sin. As someone who always gripped his umbrellas with both hands or made them lean against a shoulder, Hero couldn’t help but feel mildly impressed. 

“Ah, sir, if it isn’t too much trouble,” began the Salesman conversationally, his pleasant tone of voice directed straight at Hero almost coming as a shock considering he got rejected only moments prior. “Could you close the latches of my suitcase and hand it to me, please? I’m afraid my hands are full.” 

Hero blinked at the man, glanced at his umbrella, and then turned to the suitcase. 

The bills stared at him with a luring gaze and he swallowed down. 

Don’t even think about it. 

He nodded as an answer, shifting closer and trying to ignore the uncomfortable rainy chill that changing his sitting position welcomed. With much less grace than the stranger, Hero unceremoniously closed the suitcase shut with an audible clunk and locked the latches with a wary, unpracticed caution, the clicks ringing in his ears long after the fact. 

The Salesman bowed his head in thanks as Hero handed the thing over. 

“Thank you very kindly, sir. Though, before I leave, may I ask you something?” 

“Ah… sure.” 

“Why are you sitting here by yourself in the rain?” the Salesman asked, sounding genuinely concerned as he glanced out to the street, at the rain, at the flickering lights that buzzed almost in tandem with the icy wind. 

Hero shifted back to create a little more space, rubbing his hands together. He could barely feel his fingers. He swallowed, silently wishing this guy would just leave, and nodded. “Just waiting for the bus.”

“Bus?” he looked back at Hero, brows furrowing, confused. “What bus?... ah! I see.” He pointed at something on the map. “This bus, the last one?” 

Last one. 

One tilt of his neck and torso to check behind him later, and– oh. 

Oh that. 

That was why nothing had arrived. 

The last bus had left five minutes before he got there. 

…fuck. 

Hero turned back around, thoughts kicking up in speed, and his insides were growing colder than the air by now. He sank back into the seat, the dirty wet glass behind him, the damp metal beneath. Stared out at nothing in particular and pretended he didn’t notice the stranger carefully watching him think.  

Suddenly it made a little more sense why this business man was out so late at night in search for clients. 

Did he… know? That Hero’s bus was gone? Hero wasn’t a fool. This wasn’t the sort of thing that happened by coincidence. 

But. Still. An uber was too expensive. Could he maybe call someone he knew? Owing another person wasn’t the greatest thought, but… this situation was starting to go from sketchy to dangerous. His phone was almost dead, and having to explain this situation to his family and friends would take too long–

“Sir? Is everything alright?” 

That polite tone. 

…it didn’t feel ingenuine, was the thing. It felt off. But not ingenuine. Hero looked up from the random spot in the air he’d stared off into, turning to the Salesman, looking at him quietly for a few seconds.

He liked to think he was good at reading people– he always tended to know the right thing to say at the right time and all, among other things. And this man didn’t feel... malicious or anything. The stranger stared back, head tilted curiously (something Hero was beginning to suspect was a habit), and there was an expectant look on his face, yes, but nothing cruel. 

In his mind’s eye, the cards and bills stacked inside that suitcase surfaced. The call he just had a few minutes ago, too, came knocking as a reminder. Kel only ever asked for money when he was desperate. Which was often, but still. No laughing matter. 

Just one game won, and Kel would be able to buy himself something to eat or whatever it was that he needed. He owed his little brother that much after his two bottles in a bar. Thirty bucks, his waste. Basically what Kel had asked. 

Hero considered the other some more and, the more he looked, the more sure of himself he was. No malice, just curious indifference. This, whatever this was, was nothing but business. 

“...you won’t cheat?” Hero asked slowly, too cold to feel the acrid regret already bubbling up in his throat at the words. 

The Salesman smiled at that, and in a heartbeat he was already sitting down, placing the suitcase back between them, popping it open. 

“No, sir. I won’t.” 

He slipped his hand in to pick up the two piles of cards. 

“Red or blue?”

Hero hesitated, then pointed. 

“Blue, please.” 

With that, they played.  

Rain poured above them, tucks against the glass. A car passed by with a flash of yellow light, swooshing over the puddles of the water, and with another gust of cold Hero shivered into his jacket once more. The Salesman was somehow unaffected by the weather, calmly reexplaining the rules. 

Three turns, one round. 

And in the end, Hero… won. 

It was a rush, the firm and somehow prideful "congratulations" that the Salesman said, the fifty dollar bill in his hand worth a thousand more to the blooming warmth in his chest. Hero pulled out his wallet with a grin to pocket the money away, giddy because oh, this was lucky, he–

“Another game, sir?”

–he could maybe afford one more. He won once, after all, so surely fortune was on his side, and…

Hero thought of Kel. The dues he was having to pay. 

…he should stop. He knew better than this. 

“No, thank you.” 

The Salesman nodded, somehow looking pleased even with the decline. A click as the suitcase was closed. “If you’d like to win more, sir–”

A card pulled out from his pocket. Offered.

“–there is a place with much greater opportunities waiting for you. I encourage you to take advantage.”

Hero stared at the card. He was familiar with this sort of thing. Scholarships and loans, to a student like him, they landed at his feet, even if he didn’t keep them (or, on the rare occasion because of one too many bad… episodes, lost them). His parents and Sally needed it more. His dad. Sunny and Mari’s family, the hospital. And what little he kept was usually (usually.) enough to keep him afloat.

That was all to say, he was not foolish enough to turn this down, even if this started off weird. Despite everything, this man was true to his word. Hero had won. And he got to keep his money. 

Maybe it was some sort of recruiting thing. Like, an entertainment thing. People played games, somebody paid to watch them, whatever, that sort of stuff. That was the only way Hero could see this being beneficial to the selling party at all. This guy must be a walking advertisement. 

“More games?” Hero asked, eyeing the card. 

A nod. 

“More money, too.”

“...how much?”

The Salesman didn’t answer, only humming as he calmly placed the card between Hero’s fingers. 

“Call us, sir. Please. We’ll be happy to explain more then.”

The man left after that, a woosh of the umbrella and he walked out through the rain. Hero sat there on his own for a little while. Eventually, he called an uber now that he had the money to pay. 

A dark blue car pulled over five minutes later, pearly white leather on the inside. Hero sank into the right backseat, ignoring the driver’s small talk as politely as he could. 

With a rumble of the engine, they were off.

Hero leaned against the door, letting the gentle vibrations of the smooth drive lull him into comforting calm, leaning his head against the glass and watching the raindrops roll down and down and down. 

It was quiet, the way back. Quiet enough for him to think. 

He pulled out his wallet, where he’d slipped inside his fifty dollar bill and the… the card. 

Beige. Thick. Fancy. It looked pretty official, but that was not necessarily a promising thing. A number on the back. Three symbols on the front. 

Mari’s bills. His family’s debts. His debts, student and otherwise. Kel’s, too. So many things that could be helped with just a little bit more money. Hero pocketed the card away, looking out the window, the back of his mind swirling and swirling with consideration. 

...how bad could some games be anyway?