Work Text:
Lee Dongsik isn't personally known for running away; he could've done it so, so many times in the past twenty years, gotten away from a town that hates the very shadow that clings to his body and started a new life, become someone who hadn't been falsely accused of murdering his own twin sister, for starters.
But that's exactly why he hadn't. He had dug his heels firmly to the ground, had kicked and scratched for his right to stay in the same town that had seen two small, identical children take their first breaths, their first steps. The same town where locals would sit on their plastic chairs when the weather became too unbearable, would root and cheer for one twin or the other as they learned how to ride a tricycle, would tend to the bleeding wounds on their knees when they ultimately fail and offer to buy them ice cream if they would cease their crying.
It was the neighbors coming to lament about the loud noise, Yuyeon and Dongsik performing together, a messy melody that made sense to no one but them, but that would be stuck in everyone's heads and make them smile throughout the day.
He had decided to stay, had come back as soon as he had been done with the military service, partially because of the fond memories he had of his sister, and of his dead father and insane mother before tragedy struck… but most importantly, he had refused to leave because this small town had become his personal purgatory, and he was more than fine with it.
He didn't mind having to brace himself before exiting his house, didn't mind the salt being thrown at him, didn't mind the beating he'd take both inside of the police station and in random streets he'd find himself strolling by.
The pain was more than welcome, for it helped Dongsik not lose completely his mind, no matter how crazy he'd let himself act when approached; he could look at the gradually fading of the red bruises on his skin, and remember: Yuyeon has been missing for three days, Yuyeon has been missing for five weeks, yesterday she would've started attending the Seoul National University, today would've been her twenty-third birthday, happy birthday to us, Yuyeon-ah.
…So no, he's not escaping from yet another dig site that holds the bones of yet another victim that doesn't share his surname. It's a strategic retreat, a momentarily withdrawn, one that hopefully gives him enough time to replace the missing pieces from his meticulously crafted mask, hide the tears clinging to his lower lashes, the shaking hands and the stubborn soil and blood resting underneath his nails.
His door opens easily, as usual, since he doesn't bother locking up in the first place- there's nothing you can steal from him that holds any value, other than the files from a twenty-year old unsolved case placed against frosty walls, (and even then, Lee Dongsik can simply close his eyes and recite every page, phrase by phrase and word for word without stuttering once).
Also, he can't say he cares too much about his personal wellbeing; so, if any ill-intentioned person is brave enough to navigate the scene of the crime that is his garden, ignore the way the bitter cold attacks both your lungs and bones as soon as you step inside this ghostly house, and clamber over missing chunks of pavement and broken tiles, just to reach an old man, twitching and muttering as his body rests, but his mind lays wide awake…to do what? Kill him? Out of some desperate need to avenge a mother, a sister, a daughter that went out but never came back?
They're more than welcome to, not that Lee Dongsik cares about that, either way, so that's probably part of the reason why he's not as surprised to hear voices coming from inside of his house.
What is surprising, and sets his heart beating as if it was trying to escape away from his own chest, is who the voices belong to: his elderly mother, currently residing in a nursing home and stuck in a perennial cycle of grief and forgetfulness, and a man that had just recently put an end to his own miserable life.
Perhaps less surprising is finding Inspector Han Juwon standing in the middle of the room, his board back and long legs facing Lee Dongsik, as if he was asking for someone to gaze in awe at his tall, built frame…and, well, if that was his objective, then mission accomplished, because Dongsik is only human, and- it gets worse, because of course it does...
Inspector Han Juwon must have heard his arrival, because he slightly turns around, his eyes half-lidded as he asks: "You came?"
And it's so absurd, it should be enough to to make Dongsik double down in laughter, his ribs aching and eyes filling with tears, and then he should straighten up and raise one singular eyebrow and smile that smirk he's known for, so he can allude at exactly who had come not too many nights ago...but he can't.
They had both been very good at ignoring the massive bull in the tiny and oh-so-fragile china shop, skirting around each other as if anyone at the Manyang police substation was going to somehow take a good look at the faint imprint of teeth at the juncture of Lee Dongsik's neck and the fading marks on his sides, or at the furious reddening of Han Juwon's ears whenever the two of them had to sit next to the other during briefing, or had to share a car (as police partners are expected to do) or, you know, speak and communicate with the other (as humans are expected to do).
And, really, even if they were to notice any awkwardness surrounding them, not one single soul would bet any money on them hooking up. Most likely, they'd think they had gotten in yet another fight, a fight that had ended up so badly it would enrage Inspector Han Juwon so much that his blood would naturally start boiling and rushing to his head at the mere sight of the older detective.
So, Lee Dongsik doesn't start laughing - not a chuckle, nor a giggle.
He doesn't find it in himself to do any of these things; what he does manage to do is, after fighting against a sudden wave of both dizziness and desire, rest his weight against the wall on his right, and hope it's strong enough to hold him up for the rest of the fight that's about to start.
And not only does the fight start, that back and forth that they've both grown used to and fond of, but it is also quick to escalate, because this is how any attempt at communication goes with them: they're both incredibly selfish in the pursuit of what they're trying to achieve, be it either a corpse that's long rotted or another criminal shut behind bars, and the words they use are so...malicious, it leaves a sour taste in their mouths.
And yet they use them, yet they prod at wounds that have never healed and probably never will, yet they circle around the other like vultures high in the sky, ready to stoop down at the slightest hint of vulnerability from the other.
Lee Dongsik knows the exact steps of this dance, has learnt the glides, the pulls and the turns, can physically feel it when he has to step back and when he has to push; Inspector Han Juwon, of course, understands his role as well, as he's versed in the art of moving Dongsik's body however he wants, grabbing the older detective by the collar of his shirt to drag him against his body, just to then shove him against the nearest vertical surface.
Today, though, there's something different in the way they act and feel: Lee Dongsik is subtly eyeing the stairs behind Juwon, trying to determine the best way to flee in the least amount of time, while Han Juwon shows off his new look and, with it, a newfound confidence that carries with it the pungent scent of danger.
It's a line crossed, once "Do you really want to find your sister? It's like you're putting on a show," and then twice, "Kang Jimok is not the only one you killed, remember? You also killed Kang Minjeong."
It's the static sound filling Lee Dongsik's ears, worsening the headache he could already feel building behind his eyes, it's the metallic taste in his mouth as he bites on his tongue, trying not to think about a daughter than was never his, a sister he'd been born with, but couldn't be buried next to.
Before Lee Dongsik knows it, he's clenching his hand in a fist, and raising his arm to strike Han Juwon on that pretty face of his; the reaction is immediate, his eyes widening as his cheek starts reddening significantly, a sharp contrast against the fairness of his skin, and against the shade of the corner of his full, now split, lip as it slowly but surely begins bleeding.
They're facing each other, both the attacker and the attacked breathing heavily as they stare in shock at the other; Han Juwon's brows are furrowed, as if he was staring at a years old cold case, a challenging riddle he can't seem to grasp the meaning of.
The most serious look sits on his face, and Dongsik can basically see the wheels turning behind his eyes, the gears shifting as he schemes just how and when to reenact his revenge, imagining the sensation of his fist hitting flesh, a fist that surely will soon arrive and be followed by others.
Lee Dongsik opens his mouth -to do what? apologize?- but before the words can even form on his tongue, something else happens. Something worse, something unimaginable, something that definitely shouldn't be happening.
Han Juwon pounces on him, and Lee Dongsik prepares himself accordingly, both mentally and physically, for the pain that's about to come and last for at least a few weeks, but all he does end up feeling is tremulous softness pressing against his lips, and all he sees is Han Juwon's impossibly close face, his own two eyes squeezed shut.
As soon as Lee Dongsik realizes that they're technically kissing, even though it's currently nothing more than a chaste weight on his mouth, he starts trashing against that strapping young man, tries to break away from Han Juwon's mouth and the grip he has on his waist.
This plan, Dongsik is quick to realize, fails to produce the desired effects, as it only seems to spur the younger detective more, encourages him to part his lips and graze his tongue against Dongik's lower lip, as if he were shyly asking for entry.
But Lee Dongsik is not giving up so easily; he's rebelling against every kiss and caress that lends on his body, sees a victory in each second he's able to slightly improve the distance between their flushed bodies, gives himself a pat in the back for each second he's able to resurface as he struggles for air.
And so, still he strikes Inspector Han with his foot, lands blows with both his hands against the other's chest; but Han Juwon, germophobic and law-abiding Han Juwon, doesn't seem to concern himself with that fleeting and unmemorable pain. He simply seizes Lee Dongsik's offending leg by the meat of his thigh, as the other gets ready to hit him again with it, and hooks it high against his own hip, then stumbles his way into the opening space between Dongsik's legs.
He fights each time Juwon tries to cease his sudden movements, grasps him more firmly, cups one of Dongsik's cheeks with one of his hands, forcing the other to tilt his head this way, and then the other, kisses becoming progressively hungrier and desperate; his combative spirit is ultimately rewarded with a solid thigh that Dongsik finds himself pressed against with a low whine, his eyes rolling to the back of his head every time the other would shift and 'accidentally' nudge Dongsik's rigid erection.
But, even as waves of pleasure crashed into him, even as they panted hotly in each other's open mouths, kisses having long become too impatient for technique, even as the voices from the video still playing on the tv "Dongsik-ah, you're doing well, right? Your mother left to look for Yuyeon. Don't worry too much. I'm sure they'll find her soon enough", completely vanished, overpowered by the sound of their rough breathing, of their lips and slick tongues tangling… even then, Lee Dongsik finds himself to be angry, finds himself wanting to pick a bigger, worse fight.
Because they didn't do this.
Hell, until a few months ago, Lee Dongsik wouldn't have dared to imagine in the comfort of the darkness of his own room how Han Juwon's fair skin would've felt against the hardened palms of his hands. Until a few months ago, they were quite literally at each other's throats, would have rather died than speak the other's name formally; but now, Lee Dongsik knows the exact heaviness of his cock, how many strokes and where to place them, the soft exhales of air those fleeting touches reward him with.
And, to make matters worse, he can now never forget the taste of Han Juwon's scraped-raw mouth, the way the rough pads of his fingers prod the spaces connecting Lee Dongsik's ribs, as if trying to claw his way into that broken body, slip between delicate organs and engrave himself further inside.
But, even then, Lee Dongsik found himself to be…indignant, as his spine aligns itself with the rough wall behind him, the same wall he had hammered at not too many hours ago, the concrete pieces digging into his trembling back...
…Because, a small, fastidious part of him wants to nag at the inspector, shake him by the collar of that ridiculous jacket he's wearing until he's told exactly when he had had the time to learn to kiss like this, considering a few weeks ago he was repelled by the mere thought of sharing bowls and utensils, let alone willingly swap spit with someone thirteen years older than him.
And yes, Lee Dongsik quite appreciates the improvement, but he'd be lying if he told you he didn't feel bitter at the thought of any possible past partners; and so, because he's as childishly foolish as he's old, he nips at the cut his fist is responsible for on Han Juwon's lip, so that blood can seep through, filling both their mouths with its aroma. He wishes for the bite to hurt, for his saliva to both sting and soothe as he traces the wound with the tip of his tongue.
Han Juwon whines at that, but he clearly mustn't mind that momentary twinge of pain, considering the way his hips thrust and shove against Dongsik's own with even more unrestrained ruthlessness that the older detective had thought possible; Lee Dongsik can't help the choked laugh that leaves him, even as moans escape red and wet lips, because of course Inspector Han Juwon likes it, so much that his next breath comes quicker than the previous one had, and Lee Dongsik feels as his face flushes redder, and God...he's as crazy as Lee Dongsik's been faking this entire time, he has to be, there's no other possible excuse-
The laughter startles the younger inspector and achieves what kicks and punches hadn't been able to; they finally come apart, or, as apart that's physically feasible, without having to actually deprive their bodies of the other's touch.
Lee Dongsik finds himself staring at the thread of spit that still connects their mouths together; he's able to tear his gaze away from that bruised, shiny mouth only when Han Juwon asks, clearly struggling to pronounce the words right, his voice thick with arousal: “What…what are you laughing at?”
Juwon's eyes are glossy with barely hidden concern and desire, staring down into Dongsik's own as his fervent touch subsides into tender caresses, his hands finding their resting place on the apple of Dongsik's cheeks. He presses a soft, gentle kiss to Lee Dongsik's lips, but he's stopped before he's able to properly capture the other's lips between his own once more, before he has half a mind to slip a thumb in the corner of the older detective's mouth, so that he can kiss him more deeply, learn his taste better.
There's nothing Lee Dongsik wants more in this world at the moment, no matter the many emotions inside of him, wrestling to take over his body, pulling at the seams of his flesh and splitting him open in an indecision of his own making; he wants Han Juwon to kiss him harder, bruise his lips with his hard kisses, grind faster and harder against that powerful thigh until it's wet with his own release.
But, most importantly, he needs Han Juwon to get the furthest away from him in the least amount of time, to go to the outermost edge of the map and never return, so that the ticking of the bomb that Dongsik feels growing louder and louder with every faint brush of their bodies, can finally go back to its steady and familiar hum.
Because the feeling of Han Juwon's skin, the way their bodies connected from ankle to knee, from shoulder to elbow, against his own is so powerful it seemed to control Dongsik's body; he found himself breathing when the other paused, stopping when he moved; there was no doubt in his mind that his heart was beating in time to the other's pulse.
And it's so wrong, and it's repulsive exactly because it doesn't feel as it is even if Dongsik knows it should; at the end, it's exactly the reason why the older detective lets Han Juwon steal one last kiss from him, before firmly pushing himself away and rejecting the other's panicked attempts to come closer.
His silence, for once, must be more frightening that any words that crazy mind of his could come up with and utter; he can feel it in the tensing of Han Juwon's body under his hands, in the way he grows more and more desperate with his searing kisses, his panicked mouth moving from Lee Dongsik's lips to his neck, nipping at the hollow of his throat, and then finally returning to his dimpled cheeks.
And then, you can hear the distress in his voice, can somewhat feel him retreating into his old self as he gives up, after having tried to pull Dongsik back into his passionate hold and failing, when he asks with a hesitant tone: “Was I… not good?”
Lee Dongsik licks his lower lip, tastes the other's lingering spit and swallows it down, foolishly wishing for it to never vanish from his body, then opens his mouth to answer, “Han Juwon…”
At that, the younger detective startles, as if hit again, this time by a more powerful blow, far more intense. His mournful eyes narrow, his temper flares: “That's not what you called me last time-”
“Inspector Han Juwon!” Lee Dongsik cries out, so strongly he can feel the heat rising to his cheek, and the veins bulging in his neck. The older detective thinks he sees a singular tear run down Han Juwon's face as he takes a step back, his face now completely drained of colour, and it's a view that will surelt come to haunt Dongsik tonight, as soon as he closes his eyes, and the many nights that are to come for the rest of his life.
Lee Dongsik can't stand the betrayal in Han Juwon's eyes, so he forces himself to turn away, because he has to keep talking or he'll let himself crumble in the younger detective's arms, and will beg for forgiveness as he dries the other's eyes until the sun rises and sets.
He spits the words out, as quickly and as viciously as he can, as if ripping off a band-aid from a still-bleading wound: “I'm not in the mood to play with you. Go out.”
“Lee Dongsik-!” Han Juwon tries pleading, his voice raw as he calls his name, and the older detective can hear hurried steps approaching from behind, can feel the air shifting as if he was about to be stopped and embraced-
“Out!” He yells, once again, a piercing sound that wears him out of any remaining strength he thought he had. The bend around his head seems like it's being pulled tight and tighter as the minutes go by, and the ringing in his ears is enough to drown all other sounds, whether near or far, high or low.
Once he deems enough time has passed, he turns around, notices that there doesn't seem to be anyone lingering at the door, no living soul in this house other than his own, he lets his body finally bend under the weight of the agony he's experiencing, his hand reaching for the throbbing pain in his thigh.
Lee Dongsik begins his slow, pathetic descent over the frigid floor.
Initially, he doesn't seem to notice any unfamiliar article of clothing laying on the same ground, an arm's length or two of distance separating them; once the tears fall and his vision clears, he finds that he does seem to recognize it, that eyesore of a jacket of brown leather, that's honestly the most offensive thing Lee Dongsik has laid his eyes on.
He remembers seeing it on Inspector Han, remembers jutting down a few jokes in the back of his mind to annoy him with, remembers how it felt behind his hands as he clutched for dear life on Han Juwon's shoulders, under his onslaught of kisses. Dongsik doesn't quite remember, he has to say, peeling it off of the younger detective, nor had he heard it fall on the pavement.
But it's there, its presence cannot be recollected and neither can it be denied; so, Lee Dongsik thinks about what any sane person would do: pick it up, bring it to a professional cleaner to rid it of any dirt and stains, fold it in a bag so that it can be returned to its rightful owner.
Then, he does the exact opposite: he drags himself until he reaches the jacket, headless of the pain in his back, born out of the hours spent digging corpses and skeletons, or the pain in his hands, from when he had started scratching at the dirt like a man possessed.
He opens the flaps, stretches it over the floor, brushes his hand against the white fleece he finds inside; then, once satisfied with his work, he lowers himself over that still-warm lining, overlaps the weighty sleeves over his chest and middle.
Only then, as he runs a hand over his tangled curls, imagining a kinder touch than the one he offers to himself, does Lee Dongsik fall apart, surrounded by a loop of endless voices that repeat static-filled words he's long memorized, and a pain he should've long become acquainted to.