The Touch of Jack Frost (Weak Hero)

Giju (12-8-22)

Giju carelessly ran a hand through his soft hair, freshly washed, after all, he had to look presentable. Changhui had just assigned him a new, or rather old, business. Last he'd checked, Doyun was in charge of this area. Which, didn't exactly make sense, since it was closer to the area that was full of the businesses Giju had already been assigned. For Doyun, it was quite out of the way. He walked with long, proud, exaggerated steps, a perpetual smirk forever tugging at his lips.

Ring.

It was Changhui.

Thoughtlessly, he picked it up: "Hey boss man!" Giju's tone was either cheerful or grave, with no in-between. Fighting was cheerful. Talking to Changhui was often cheerful as well. Actually, there weren't many situations that brought out his grave side rathe than cheerful or sly.

"Giju," He sighed, there was an unusual strain in Changhui's voice. "We'll reschedule the meeting, come back to head quarters."

The red-head's eyes grew wide, sly smile dropping in an instance. Cheongang never left things unfinished, they never cancelled important business meetings. Something bad, really bad, must've happened. "Rodger that," He replied with mock confidence in his voice. In the group, he was the confident one, and since he'd joined, he'd been forever intent on keeping that title.

Turning on his heels, Giju began walking back the way he'd come from just ten minutes earlier. He walked faster though, Changhui never changed objectives. What happened? He shook his head, forcing a smile to return to his face. Everything they'd been working to build up was crumbling. Since middle school, they'd began the construction of Cheongang, something far greater than whatever shitty Union the kids had nowadays. 

It was better. Far better. Changhui was better than Donald Na. He was. Images of the final scene in the fight between the pair danced briefly through his mind like flickering licks of fire. Blood and a cold knife. A bow. Donald was insane, and perhaps even rivaled Giju's own craziness, in a different way of course. 

Giju started running, barreling down the street.

He was better than Wolf Keum. That funny fucking bastard. He was way better than Wolf Keum. Just because he'd gotten the better of him once...

He'd gotten the better of him...

Just once.

He felt conflicted. Perhaps, in a different world where Giju wasn't as prideful and overly confident in his abilities then he'd be able to admit that Wolf had gotten the better of him twice now. Maybe he'd never be able to beat him. Wolf was just a high-school student too. There was so much potential sitting in Yeongdeungpo. In the Union. In that school Eunjang that everyone always seemed super pissed at.

As if God had taken a bag of talent and just started pouring it all over the area, narrowly missing Giju and Cheongang. 

These kids were going somewhere.

Probably prison.

The tall headquarter, as they called it, building, was just appearing in the edge of Giju's vision. Black as night and reflective as a lake dappled in moonlight. This place might as well have been his home, in childhood, in adulthood. This place might as well have been his job, his first and last. Genuinely, he couldn't imagine ever doing anything else with his life. Cheongang was all that he'd worked with.

The people, though adamant as they were now about staying distant, hadn't always been so. Giju had fond memories of being gathered around a table sipping Starbucks lattes with whipped cream, discussing more so life things than work things. These people, whether they wanted to be so or not, were the closest things Giju would ever call friends.

He paused.

These people were his family, his friends, his job, and this building was his home. The very though of anything being wrong with the perfect process they had, the lifestyle they'd created, scared him. Though, Giju would rather die than admit such a thing. Instead, he swallowed, opening a glass door and entering. A strand of scarlet hair fell dull in front of his eyes, though quickly he dismissed it, pushing it back behind his ear and making his way to the elevator.

"Giju," Juwon spoke from a chair near where he been heading. "Let's go together," Without another word, he walked over and pressed the button for his lower partner. Giju had always had huge respect for Juwon, even if he'd always been cold. A slight ding was heard, and the world blurred.

Suddenly, they appeared at Changhui's office. Rapping at the door for only a second, "Enter," He spoke.

They did as they were told. The grief on Changhui's face was unmistakable, what happened? They lost a company? They lost a business?

"Doyun is," He paused, "Dead,"

They lost a friend.

They lost a brother.

Oh.

Juwon stilled beside him, blank faced as ever. Giju assumed he was sad too, though it was hard to know for certain. "Is that all?" Giju asked, he didn't want the details. Not about how it happened. Not about when the funeral would be. No.

Changhui nodded, watching Giju with careful eyes. Maybe it was a test and his leader just wanted to gauge how much of a loose cannon the red-head was. He was too much in shock to say anything else about the topic then, "I'll get going then," A slight wave of the hand, and he was gone. First slowly walking out of the office, shutting the door with care. Then walking down the hall. Pushing the elevator button too hard. Riding it down, and half-sprinting away from the view of Changhui's office window.

He needed to punch someone. He needed the rush of a fight. Doyun wasn't worth crying over, Giju didn't shed tears. Doyun hadn't even liked him, always insisted to make an enemy out of himself and pit them against each other. Giju turned the corner, about twelve high school, maybe, boys sat, smoking and laughing.

Twelve was a high number.

Giju didn't care.

He took a breath, inhale.

Stepping towards them, a more twisted smirk took the place of his often secretive and sly one, this one bled in pain and loss. Doyun hadn't liked him, but he'd always been Giju's brother, just like Juwon and Changhui. He threw a punch at the guys closest to him. In a way, he'd stopped caring how many guys there were, or if they were carrying knives. It didn't matter.

His smile further twisted into pain.

Exhale.

...................................................................................................................

1050 words not including author's note

I didn't get home from school until like 11pm so it's a lil rushed and a lil short but that's okay!

Love you!