Chapter Text
Untangling. The word took on a life of its own, crudely intertwining its irony with thoughts in an involuntary, somewhat thoughtless knot. Every detail stunned the whole day that followed, which would in no way resemble a straight line. There was simply beauty in the ease of keeping everything in order, especially when the past was contemplated by the darkest of chaos. Various types of chaos, if he had to be honest. The hunger crushing his stomach, the calls to a mother who had already forgotten him so easily. Thoughts in a distorted line made the air scarce and life, more chaotic.
The mirror almost dared to mock him, as if the muscles and titles he had earned as an MMA fighter were worthless, that he was a pathetic, flawed human being. Jaekyung hated knowing that. He looked down at the watch on his wrist. How many times had he thought about it? Then, the word came to mind. The night before, the coach was doing crossword puzzles, and that miserable word appeared as the solemn art of untying knots from something that was already so tightly sewn together. That word stared at him mockingly, as if letters could simply laugh in his face like a foolish child. The meaning was simple. You remove the knots from something, and as if by magic, it becomes a small thing apart, so different from everything else.
The question sounded a little silly to the fighter. He really believed that if something was sewn onto a solid surface, it would never be changed. A fighter hanging out with other fighters was just that, an unchanging and perfect group. But then, somewhere, a woman embroidered a beautiful image, and by undoing the knots, the design fell apart. Now it's different. Cloth is cloth, lines are lines. The magic of that meaning made him face the cruelty of his choices. He could choose to stay the same, put everything in a confusing box, and nothing would ever change. It just so happened that “he” would be in another box. Dan was not someone placed in the box of fighters, or the toolbox he was cruelly forced into.
Dan's box was open, full of light, life, color.
Jaekyung spent the night awake. Just thinking that he had forced him into it. It didn't matter if Dan had initially said “yes.” Dan said “no” in the same night, but Jaekyung didn't like changes. For him, yes means yes, and now he had to untangle ideas, fears, and cruelties. Nothing made it easy; he was used to a list of routines. How would he change? How could he bear to understand that he, who hated changing things, was now hoping for one? If he couldn't convince him that things could be fixed, Dan wouldn't change his perspective. Walking around the room, Jaekyung went over every thought and almost couldn't breathe. Training was easy to organize, the times to wake up.
But not that.
He looked at his watch again, thinking about the traffic, whether it was better to go earlier or later. If one of them was the right or the wrong answer, he walked to the mirror, his long fingers smoothing his hair back, exposing his face once again, molded in seriousness that hid, albeit miserably, his nervousness. He stared at his own image, his hair perfectly combed, his black dress shirt now neatly buttoned, and his pants the same color. Ironically, he thought that his choice would be comfortable, since Dan always wore the same colors. He laughed at himself, as if looking even remotely similar could be of any help.
There was half an hour to go, and it didn't seem complicated. It was just dinner. Dan agreed to go was already a victory, even under circumstances that no sane person would ever accept.
He accepted. Jaekyung repeated to himself, feeling that opportunity stared at him cautiously. Everything should be kept to a minimum, but Dan was like a small, frightened animal that would fly away in fear of being kept in a cage again. The restaurant reservation still sounded risky, even if it was thought out almost strategically. Jaekyung chose a good restaurant, nothing too extravagant. It was the only thing Dan asked for when he looked at him, still taking a step back. His brown eyes didn't even look at him, and there was nothing romantic about it when Jaekyung accompanied him to a convenience store. Simply asking him to go out for dinner was already pushing his luck. The brunette still took the risk, hoping that Dan would give him the benefit of the doubt. Dan laughed at that expression, perhaps because he was surprised to see it, or because he thought the fighter didn't understand what it meant.
It wasn't an expression that suited them. There was no doubt about it, he already knew the fighter, without a doubt and certainly without benefit. Dan was still Dan. That meticulous silence, the brown irises clouded with sadness while the weak smile served as hope, but the look said that there was no doubt that it would all end in more suffering. Dan paid to see, another useless expression in the eyes of both of them.
“He accepted,” Jaekyung consoled himself.
After all, he still got a yes. What seemed like a victory now was nothing more than new pressure. And not ironically, it was a blow in the dark for both of them. Jaekyung thought about Dan. After all, he still got a yes. What seemed like a victory now was nothing more than new pressure. And not ironically, it was a shot in the dark for both of them. Jaekyung thought about what Dan would wear, if he would order a drink. Maybe not, Dan was so understanding with others that he would risk ordering only what respected Jaekyung's diet. The brunette straightened his posture, thinking again and again. “You choose,” he repeated to the mirror, gesturing with his hand. First, in a harsh and abrupt movement. Which only resulted in an angry grumble at his natural habit of being a big asshole. He didn't know how to be sweet, or kind, or anything far from his rude mask. He grew up like a mistreated animal that had to attack everything that came near him, understanding that everything and everyone was a threat. He tried again, studying how to soften his eyebrows, taking a deep breath and trying to smile. “Do you want to choose?”
He closed his eyes tightly.
For a long moment, adjusted a few strands of hair that insisted on falling out of place. Ten, fifteen more minutes. His gaze returned to the screen of his cell phone, restlessness vibrated within each thought, almost as if watching a pan on the stove. If he took his eyes off it, everything would burn and there would be nothing left to do but face the mess. Unintentionally, pain throbbed in the back of his neck, no matter how much pressure his fingers applied to calm the painfully tensed muscles. The pain crept in, a companion he didn't know when Dan lived there. Now it was her who resided there, fueled by all the restlessness and uncertainty.
Expectations were dangerous.
Whether he liked it or not, he was a survivor. Jaekyung had unexpectedly managed to take one step after another, even with a mother who had left him behind like a shameful memory. The one that creeps into your mind when you least expect it, and then, when it happens, you see no alternative but to pray that it never comes to light.
The fighter tried his best to believe that he wasn't destined to become like his father, a drug addict angry at everything. It would have been easy to accept that this fate was his only inheritance, and at times he wondered why he had been born. His mother, living in hell, probably didn't wanted him. Not while he was a reminder of everything that had made her suffer during all those years. It didn't matter who his father had been when he was brilliant. What mattered was only what Jaekyung understood as he grew up. His mother was somewhere, trying not to think about the child she left behind, as easily as storing a box full of the past in a locked basement. He knew, deep down, what his mother thought when she abandoned them.
“Do I really have to suffer just because I have this child?”
Jaekyung stared at his reflection in the mirror, certain that his mother's gaze would not be affectionate even if he saw her again and made it clear that everything he had achieved would never be her merit. Not that he didn't suffer from the curiosity that grew in the depths of his soul, but he knew what he would see. He tried not to think about it too much, because if he did, it would end up terrifying him to realize that nothing she could say would sound understandable. He still felt deep inside the child who clung to the idea that he could be the man of the house, that he could earn a lot of money so they could be together again. But life was volatile, and she broke free from what came out of her. Jaekyung wasn't a child, perhaps it never had been. In the eyes of other people, that word was surrounded by affection, while for the fighter it was about seeing himself as her parasite. He adjusted his shirt, wondering if he was like his father, if his father also had the same eyes, the same strands of hair falling on his forehead.
He lowered his gaze; the time had come. Even though he wanted to be a better person and not fall into the same traps that had led his father to the depths of hell, he understood the truth that there was no way to practice. He would say the wrong things, but it was enough that he didn't act the same way, over and over again.
Breaking free was a difficult task.
He grabbed his keys and left the apartment, only the beeping of the elevator panel echoing as he thought, somewhat drastically, about everything. Nothing he had ever said to Dan was acceptable, even though Kim Dan had an inexplicable ability to be understanding. So, the brunette went to his car and drove, sometimes staring at the GPS, a little ahead of schedule. The cars next to him grotesquely echoed bad music or hurried men talking to their wives or bosses, ironically the tone was the same for both. A little anger, boredom, or frustration. Then he turned the streets to the address, stopping the car abruptly as the bad feeling spread throughout his body. Dinner was at Haeseong, an excellent restaurant with private rooms. Nothing prepared him for this. He got out of the car, dressed to perfection, almost in ironic contrast to Dan's light-colored uniform. He allowed himself to observe how the late afternoon wind messed up his brown hair amid the vivid embarrassment.
“I agreed to talk to you again.”
“Yeah.” Jaekyung stared at him for half a second, realizing that agreeing to meet wasn’t the same as agreeing to have dinner. Dinner meant half an hour or more, and Dan didn't seem to want much time, as if his internal timer was as limited as Jaekyung's temper in the past. The brunette sank his hands into his pants pockets, staring at him for a long moment. “I thought ‘we can talk’ meant going somewhere quieter,” he tried, and there was nothing to think about. He really believed that to talk, it had to be somewhere else, not as quiet as the penthouse where he lived, but also not too public to the point where Dan had to raise his voice to be heard. The middle ground was a mystery. He looked once more at the contrast in their clothes. Jaekyung had carefully prepared for the restaurant. Then he looked at Dan, in his hospital uniform, a slightly bluish tone with a name tag. “Aren't you hungry?”
“We can eat. Here.” Dan pointed behind him, and silence remained for a few long seconds. “I'm on shift at the hospital, so I can only stay for a little while. If they call me, I have to go.” He showed his pager. No highly rated restaurants, just the bar with a slightly blue facade and a flickering light. Dan entered not allowing for any other alternatives. Jaekyung tried not to judge, but he had always been transparent about whatever he felt or thought. Naturally, his eyebrows furrowed intensely. “It’s not that bad, don’t make that face before you try it.” Dan whispered, scolding him.
“I’m not judging.”
Still, the fighter stared at the round tables and those against the old orange brick wall. Some college kids were still playing darts amid soft laughter. He walked over to one of the tables. How could he blame Dan for wanting to meet him in the most public place possible? Dan sat down, looking at him with caution and a seriousness that didn't match the gentle tone of his eyes. Jaekyung sat down, allowing Dan to choose.
It took several seconds, just looking directly as if they were studying each other, aware that everything was an intense 50/50 game. Everything that could be a step forward also carried an implicit potential to be a big mistake. So, in the worst way, Dan ran his fingers down the menu, his brown eyes scanning each item, until he ordered an appetizer. Without any comment. The fighter allowed himself to observe if everything was still too risky. But the chances of Jaekyung being able to reinvent himself and become someone well-known who would never step on what destroyed his father.
Then, he looked at the fish balls served on the small platter. And the silence hung once again.
“This uniform is different,” he commented. Dan forced a slight smile, looking at the silver plate with his name on it. All Jaekyung knew was still very little, only that Dan always wore the uniform as if he were always there. Breathing and living in a hospital. “Are they treating you well?”
“Is it about the debt?”
Jaekyung took a deep breath, barely touching the food.
“I've thought about it a lot. You came back to Seoul, but you're not living with me. Are you living in a good place?”
“It's a dormitory, the Saint Han interns live there. It's kind of rotational, usually someone leaves when they get an apartment. It's good.” Dan tasted one of the fish balls, looking away, some of the interns were still playing darts. Some were drinking, others remained alert to any call from the hospital. The almost enviable youthfulness and potential that Dan observed before turning his brown irises back to the image of the fighter, too elegant for a place like that. Anyway, the fighter tasted a little of the appetizer, slightly straying from his athlete's diet, which already seemed almost a sin given the almost dictatorial routine he imposed to himself. Dan blinked slowly. “So, it's not about the debt.”
“You're not a hospital patient, maybe I could help you find a place.” He knew that was something unusual to hear from him. But he saw the hesitation when he suggested they move back in together. Rushing things would only make everything more difficult. “I can do that, help you find an apartment.”
Dan looked at him silently.
“You're really trying.” Dan laughed weakly, seeing from there that the brunette's shoulders were so tense that they were surely hurting badly. He looked him in the eye, and despite his fatigue and even his posture, he gathered his strength and smiled slightly, shaking his head. “When you think too much, you end up with pain in the back of your neck.”
“Do you think I think too much?”
“I don't know, you've never opened up to me.” Silence hung once more, Dan laughed weakly, staring at his own hands. “Sorry, that was a little rude.”
“No. It wasn't.”
Dan ate another orange fish ball while the brunette watched him closely, trying to read any signs, even though his gaze was full of caution, and his hands naturally moved away at the slightest approach of Jaekyung's hands. There was a palpable limit; it wasn't as if Dan had reflected on everything that had happened. There was no hurt or resentment, even though Jaekyung believed that Dan should toughen up a little to survive. It didn't seem real to see someone suffer and still treat people with kindness. Dan was like a small, shriveled being who resisted even when degraded. Still, Dan accepted being there.
Jaekyung swallowed hard. It wasn't about forgiveness; the fighter understood perfectly well that Dan would never refuse to see someone who had asked so many times for half an hour. Even though no one else would show mercy, Dan couldn't say “no” when someone asked for a chance. Even if it was in a crappy bar in front of the hospital. He forced a half-smile amid the silence, the barrier between them still huge, even if invisible. Jaekyung still wore the keychain, but it was still too little. Being there was not a real victory. Even if he dared to practice what to say, nothing helped Jaekyung to face the fact that he was the one to blame. He was the one who crossed all boundaries by not understanding how someone could survive in a gentle way.
Jaekyung could have shed blood and tears, rising until he was on such a high level that no one could touch him. The bad thing about reaching the top was that you feel the breeze, alone. The more you looked down at other people, the more you realized that nothing can be answered simply.
Dan survived, but he was able to maintain relationships. People loved Kim Dan. But Jaekyung? They also liked the fighter, but they didn't love him as a person. He didn't touch people's lives the way Dan used to do. “Did you make any friends?”
“I think so,” Dan replied.
“People like you. I think it's one of those things.” Jaekyung let a smile escape his lips, his dark irises capturing the small, restrained smile on Dan. “You do everything differently. You did well for Yoongu, he always helps the newbies at the gym. I think he was inspired by you, you always helped everyone."
“I'm not that noble, it's kind of an unspoken rule in medicine, no matter the field.” He laughed. “We have to help.”
“MMA doesn't have that kind of oath.”
“I understand.” He chuckled softly, blinking slowly, pulling his hand away once more when Jaekyung's tried to reach for it. Finally, he met their gazes, with the same faint smile that didn't match his expression at all. Until Jaekyung realized that he wasn't uncomfortable with that moment, with them looking at each other after so long. Dan was studying how to say the inevitable, “I agreed to see you, but do you understand? You never apologized to me. For anything. I spent hours thinking that maybe you just wanted to get rid of some weight on your conscience, but it doesn't change anything.”
“I want to fix things.” “I know.” Dan took a deep breath, but naturally his eyes watered, and he turned his face away blowing the air trapped in his lungs. “But... I don't know if it would work, not the way you think it would. I was nothing, Jaekyung.”
“I need to try.”
“I know.”
Dan looked at the pager, the beep echoing between them, almost like a timer for that half hour. His brown eyes stared at the small screen, looking up at Jaekyung's face, remembering how much that determination had hurt and degraded him when all Dan offered was affection and care. Dan thought once more, a small voice would never deny redemption to those who had hurt him. He still believed that the world could be good, that everyone had a chance to change. However, he remembered how the fighter's voice rose with such rancor, and all the fear that still wandered inside Dan's chest when Jaekyung was visibly impatient. His heart raced, allowing fear to once again swallow every thought. Jaekyung had once been close to using his fists against him, and everything had become so devastating that Dan constantly wondered if things could get any worse.
Jaekyung looked at him, without raising his voice. Dan had to choose, even if it never would stop him from trying.
“I have a patient to visit now,” Dan tested. “Can you handle that? That my life no longer revolves around you?”
Jaekyung was silent.
“I said I'll try.”
“Very well.” Dan took a deep breath. “You can try, but don't get your hopes up.”