Bullets & Promises ✔️

27. Hanging on by a Thread

"Goodnight, Haneul." Dae Ho retreats to the corridor the doctor had pointed out before.

Haneul wants to trust his former friend, understand his doings but it's not easy when he knows bits and pieces and Dae Ho isn't much of a help in assisting him. He feels the gun under his fingertips, the man had handed him the weapon as if it was nothing. What if Dae Ho had another pistol with him? Would he use it on him? Haneul dismisses the thought, shivers running up his spine. He drops the gun on the couch and proceeds to Soomin's room, scooping the girl in his arms and entering his room after picking the weapon back up. His daughter is in deep slumber after a tiring day of playing and Haneul is appreciative of it.

And the night passes, one awake due to the anxious beating of his heart and the other tosses and turns in an unfamiliar bed, his hands missing the glass bottle he holds onto every night.

"Maybe a sip or two wouldn't be so bad," Dae Ho whispers to himself, eyeing the mini-refrigerator aligned with a wooden desk in front of him, a television above them. He sits up, removing the comforter and moving to the edge of the bed. He pauses, hands rubbing over his face. He couldn't let alcohol take over and replay the event in the underground once again. But the thought of not having his thirst quenched jitters him. He plays with his fingers, pacing around the room. A distraction is what he needed but he couldn't leave the room, Haneul would be uncomfortable.

The ex-model switches on the television facing the bed, volume low, and grabs a magazine from the side table. He's watching a comedy movie but doesn't have the will to laugh. Not when he's aware of the presence of the fridge. The more conscious he is about it, the further he's drawn to it. Somehow Dae Ho roots himself to watch the screen for about an hour but before he knows it, he's kneeling and opening the refrigerator door.

"Ah." He doesn't know if it's a breath of relief or misery, finding only water bottles and juice boxes along with assorted chocolate bars. No alcohol in sight. Dae Ho clamps his mouth shut, swallowing saliva and licking his lips in anticipation at the thought of unopened, discarded beer cans outside Haneul's apartment, the ones he made him toss into the bin.

"No, no. I can't do that, there's a child in the house." The fighter chants, anxiously walking back and forth in the room once again. Not thinking about alcohol is easier when he's busy or in presence of someone, but in the silence of the night when he's alone, it's either booze or the bottomless pit of woeful thoughts and past events. And he has never been good at untangling the latter.

Dae Ho curls himself in the corner of the large bed, sheets smelling like jasmine softener. He nuzzles his nose into it, an arm going under the pillow. And when the first ray of sun hits the window, sleep does embrace him. Silly, how the night brings loneliness and emptiness at its wake, but the morning brings warmth and is inviting. Nights instill uneasiness and irritation for people like Dae Ho, who wait for daybreak to draw away the monsters in their minds that lurk during darkness when the moon is at its highest.

"Uncle Jiswoo!" A voice chirps, jolting Dae Ho out of his sleep. He sits up straight in alert, a habit he had picked up over the years.

"Soomin...?" He breathes out, voice an octave deeper, fingers coming up to rub his eyes. It takes him a split second to adjust to his surroundings, a yawn escaping his lips. The screensaver on the television displays 9:23 A.M. He slept for three hours and Dae Ho wonders what a child is doing up this early in the morning.

"I woke up for bathroom and saw light coming from here," Soomin says as if she's read his mind. "Uncle Jiswoo, can we pway?"

Children sure are curious and energetic at unholy timings.

"I'm not uncle Jisoo."

"Huh?" Soomin puts her hands on either side of her waist with a huff. "You are."