#chromebookokopia

[calling-miya]

The Deception of Color - Squid Game - Chapter 1

Characters - Park Gyeong-seok (Player 246), Kim Ji-lon (oc, Player 77)

Fic Summary - Two people have the unfortunate luck of having the same idea.

Chapter Summary - The hospital is an overbearing place that can lead to bad decisions for a good reason.

Word Count - 3,204

Warnings - cancer, sickness, hospitals, not beta read, not edited

A/N : cross-posted to A03. I don't speak Korean nor have I ever visited South Korea. It's a bit confusing using the character's names because I know there are all types of honorifics to be used. Please let me know in the comments for the things I should do differently and change. That is, if anyone actually reads this obscure fic. If you want something to exist, though, and it doesn't exist already, you must do it yourself. I call myself a pioneer.

The drip drip drip of the machine kept Ji-lon awake. The little girl asleep on the hospital bed did not stir, though. Ji-lon was thankful for that. She had been awake constantly as of recently with the treatments and whatnot. It was good this girl was getting sleep. However, Ji-lon wished the same grace was allowed unto her.

She tossed and turned on the flimsy couch against the wall of the room. She refused to turn her back on Na-yeon, though. So she became incredibly uncomfortable for laying in the same position for so long. Still she refused to move. She became quickly restless and she sat up, finally giving up on any sleep for the night.

It was only when Ji-lon was certain that Na-yeon was sound asleep did she creep out of the room and close the sliding door as quietly as she could. Because it was nighttime, many of the lights of the hospital were off. It created quite an unsettling ambience where she was unsure of what was around the corner. For some odd reason, she worried that she may run into a doctor. It wasn’t as if she was doing anything untrustworthy, and she had every right to be there. But she just couldn’t deal with any more depressing glances as they recognized her as the woman left with the sick little girl.

Ji-lon found herself in the cafeteria. She sat at a table by herself, nursing a cup of burnt coffee. Since she had given up on sleep, she couldn’t allow herself to suddenly pass out. She sipped it slowly because it burned her tongue. That was okay. Soon enough she wouldn’t recognize the burn and would be able to drink it completely. 

“Miss Ji-lon.”

She looked up to see a familiar face. “Oh,” she said. “Doctor. I thought you would have gone home for the night.” 

“Please,” he said. “Call me Seong-min.”

“Right,” Ji-lon answered. “Seong-min.”

The doctor smiled. He was not the doctor assigned to Na-yeon’s case, but he was a friendly face at the very least. He had been there to help when it was needed. “Mind if I sit?” He gestured to the empty chair across.

“Of course not.”

Seong-min nodded gratefully and pulled the chair back. He took his seat and folded his hands on the table, giving her a warm smile. That was the exact sort of smile that Ji-lon was sick of getting. Pitying looks. Acceptance glares. She was just so tired of people accepting the inevitability of what would happen to that girl.

“I guess I understand,” Ji-lon said, eyes on her paper cup. “Doctors have such a busy schedule. I’m just not used to being in hospitals. Do you really work so often?”

“Not always,” Seong-min explained. “This place is a lot like a second home. I like it here. I do good work with good people."

Ji-lon kept staring into her coffee.

“And, er…” Seong-min started. “How have you been dealing?”

She held a depressed expression. “The same as anyone would be.”

“I mean… You haven’t been sleeping. I can tell,” he gestured to his eyes. “Your eyes are very heavy. You should get some rest.”

“I will when her father returns,” she argued gently, bringing up the coffee cup to her lips and taking a sip. She was right. It no longer burned. Not because it was no longer hot, but because her tongue no longer noticed it. She set down the cup. “He will be here by the morning.”

“He’s retrieving things from your home, correct?”

“No. Their home,” she corrected. Her bottom lip twitched. “I don’t… I don’t live with them.” Before Seong-min could ask any questions, Ji-lon answered them for him. “However. I stay with them on occasion. He is bringing clothes for Na-yeon.” The memory of her bright pink room tickled the back of her brain. She had spent many nights sleeping on the floor of that room when Na-yeon couldn’t sleep while her father had picked up another odd job.

“If you don’t mind my asking…” The doctor started. Ji-lon did mind, but she allowed him to continue out of tiredness. “What is your relationship to Na-yeon?”

“I…” She’s mine, was Ji-lon’s first instinct. It was so simple to say, and so true. Na-yeon was hers. If not in blood, then in love. She had been there when she was born. She had watched her take her first steps. Na-yeon’s first word was Mama, directed towards Ji-lon. It had stuck. “I grew up with her father.” It was a quick explanation, and certainly a lot had been left out. 

The truth is that Ji-lon was not always Ji-lon. She had been adopted from the States by her adoptive parents and brought to Seoul. She grew up in the city, learning Korean diligently. Many of the other students were rude and avoided her. But never Park Gyeong-seok. He was a few years older than her and lived next door. The two of them did everything together. By the time they reached high school, though, they had taken different paths. Gyeong-seok became very interested in art while Ji-lon became interested in teaching. 

After high school, Ji-lon returned to the states for an abroad learning experience having been given a scholarship due to her diligent grades. But Gyeong-seok never excelled greatly in school. He did not attend college and instead pursued his career in art. He wanted to start his own animation studio. He ended up meeting his wife during that time.

“I should return to Na-yeon,” Ji-lon shook her head to rid herself of memories. She stood abruptly and bowed her head to Seong-min. “Thank you for your kind words.”

“Yes. If you ever need anything, Miss Ji-lon. Let me know. I’m always just around the corner.”

-

Ji-lon opened the sliding door to Na-yeon’s hospital room and stopped suddenly in her tracks. In the chair beside her bed was Na-yeon's father, Gyeong-seok. He was petting the girl’s head. His back was to the door, so Ji-lon could not make out his expression. But it could not have been anything but soft when it came to his daughter.

“You’re back…” Ji-lon said, eyes widening. “I… I only stepped out for a moment.”

Gyeong-seok did not turn aroundShe hoped she did not look as tired as he did. “It’s alright. She’s well taken care of here…” He trailed off. “I brought some of your clothes from the house. I’m certain it’s something you no longer wear, but… I thought you may want to change.”

Ji-lon became suddenly aware of her current outfit. She had come straight from work - a teaching assistant gig a little ways from the city. As soon as she got the news that Na-yeon had collapsed, she dropped everything right away. So she was still wearing a loose-fitting, colorful dress. 

“Oh,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”

Gyeon-seok nodded. It appeared that he had changed too. Now he was only wearing a black shirt and a flannel with his dirty artist jeans. It made Ji-lon smile. He looked just like he did in highschool.

Ji-lon carefully took the folded clothes from the bag and went into the bathroom. She changed, shrugging the t-shirt over her head and pulled her arms through the holes. It was too big on her, and it occurred that it must’ve been one of his. She also pulled on a pair of jeans, something comfortable. She tugged at the hem of the shirt and frowned. There had been nothing else in the bag.

She flicked off the light and emerged from the bathroom, coming to sit in the second chair beside Gyeong-seok. His head was in his hands. 

“Hey,” she said, sitting down. Her hand went to rest on his shoulder softly. He looked up at her through the cracks in his fingers. “She’s going to be… okay.” She wanted to slap herself as soon as she hesitated. But the truth was that they didn’t know what was going to happen. Na-yeon was a very sick little girl. They’d been hoping the medication would have been working, but now it was clear it hadn’t. That had been the last effort before something irresistible. 

“No,” he said. “She won’t be.”

Ji-lon bit her tongue and looked down, guilty. She didn’t know what to say to this man. Her best friend, the one who they’d gone through thick and thin together. But not this. Nothing like this.

When Na-yeon was first diagnosed at two years old, the two had been fairly confident. But that was before Gyeong-seok lost his job. Then the medication rose in price, and it became harder and harder to get their hands on the treatment the little girl so desperately needed. She had been doing well, too. Or at least appeared to be.

Tears gathered in Ji-lon’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” she choked. The hand that had been resting on his shoulder to provide comfort had fallen back into her lap. “I’m so sorry.”

Gyeong-seok turned to her, alarmed in his eyes. “No, no.” He said, reaching for her. Immediately she leaned forward and rested her head against his chest, arms coming up to wrap around his shoulders. “Don’t apologize.”

She nodded against him, eyes directed at Na-yeon. My sweet girl… she thought.

Her heart was in so much pain. Any more and she may have had to check herself into this very same hospital. But it must have been nothing to the absolute grief Gyeong-seok was currently undergoing. Ji-lon suddenly felt selfish. How dare she fall apart in his arms?

But then she realized he was crying as well. The silent kind of crying. He was always the quiet type. He took shaking breaths and sounded stuffed up as he breathed. She felt his air against her hair. It was warm compared to the cold air of the hospital. They always kept hospitals so cold because it was hard for illness to spread through it. But it didn’t matter. The cold was suffocating all the same.

Ji-lon was the one to pull away first, but only because her arm had begun to cramp. She rested her head against his shoulder and scooched her chair closer, so their thighs were touching. He had once made a joke that she was too touchy and that people would get the wrong idea about them. It was a flirtatious joke. Ji-lon told her co-workers about that comment. None of that mattered now. Now it was all about Na-yeon. The love they may or may not have had for each other was nothing compared to the love they had for her.

Both of her hands clasped his, while his other hand held Na-yeon’s. It was like they were all holding each other. The doctors had said to be very careful around Na-yeon while she was undergoing treatment.

Ji-lon tasted something bad in her mouth. She recalled an argument she and Gyeong-seok had at one point after Na-yeon was diagnosed.

“You want to take her to the amusement park?!” She had exclaimed. “That’s—That’s a breeding ground for getting her sick!”

“You can’t take her! And we can’t afford daycare!” He shouted back. Once upon a time Ji-lon would’ve taken offense to his shouting. But it had become normal at that point. The stress of it all had just been too much. “I don’t suppose you can take her to that school two hours away? What was it? We already tried to get her transferred there!”

“Enough!” She exclaimed back, a wild look in her eye. “This could kill her!”

Gyeong-seok stepped forward, pointing a finger in her face. Words had been on the tip of his tongue. He almost said them, too, but he successfully fought them back. He lowered his hand and instead stepped back, turning away from her tear-stained cheeks and ran a hand through his hair. “She’s closer to medical treatment at the park than she is with you.” He inhaled deeply. “We need money. We can’t afford you being a stay-at-home mother. My job pays better.” He explained, as if the logistics were enough to keep themselves level-headed in this situation.

A single tear fell from Ji-lon’s left eye. When Gyeong-seok turned around and saw it, his eyes softened. But only a little. Not enough for it to matter.

There were a million things that Ji-lon could have said. Hell, things she wanted to say. But it had never been in her nature. Except for this moment. “I’m not a stay-at-home mother,” she said quietly, almost under her breath. “I’m not even a mother to begin with.”

Gyeong-seok nudged her shoulder with his. “Ji-lon,” he said. “Why don’t you get some sleep? Hm?” He hummed, reaching up and tilting her chin closer so he could examine the bags under her eyes. “Please.”

Ji-lon contemplated arguing against him, but there was no use. Now that he was back, she was infinitely more tired than she had been. Instead she nodded and stepped away from him and towards the couch. “Wake me up before the sun rises,” she said. He opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off. “Please?”

He frowned but nodded. 

Ji-lon practically fell onto the couch and threw the flimsy blanket the hospital had provided over her shoulders. Her hand came up to rest against her chin in a mock attempt to use herself as a pillow. She was ever so thankful for wearing such comfortable socks to work today.

But Na-yeon was dying.

She wasn’t thankful for the socks anymore.

-

The sun was far in the sky when she awakened. And when she awakened, her first instinct to check Na-yeon had yielded her no results - Na-yeon was not in the bed.

Na-yeon was not in the bed.

Immediately she had pushed herself off the couch, half slamming against the ground in the attempt. She checked the bathroom. Nowhere. Gyeong-seok was gone, too. She called her name, and then his. Something crept up her spine all the way up from her feet. Her head felt fuzzy. There were a million things to do, a million things to think, all at once. Where would Na-yeon have gone? Gyeong-seok must have been with her. But where were they? She shouldn’t be moving. She shouldn’t be out of bed. She shouldn’t have fallen asleep, and she never should have let this—

The sliding door to the room opened, revealing Na-yeon in Gyeong-seok’s arms. He looked alarmed to see Ji-lo so panicked. Her mouth was agape as she struggled to make out his name, looking back and forth just to make sure what she was saying was real.

“We went for a walk,” Gyeong-seok was quick to explain. “She had woken up early. The doctors gave me the okay. Said that she needed the fresh air.”

Ji-lon blinked multiple times, the familiar feeling of anger beginning to cloud her thoughts. “Then open the window!” she said through gritted teeth. “I—I—I t–thought—”

“Mama…?”

Ji-lon froze and turned her attention to the little girl in his arms. Her eyes were open. She was looking at Ji-lon.

“Na-na. Na-na, are you— Oh my god,” she rushed forward and gently took her from Gyeong-seok’s arms. He didn’t protest, eyes saddened. She transferred the girl onto the bed slowly so she was sitting upright. Then she wrapped her arms around her tightly, tears seeping into her hospital gown.”

Ji-lon gasped and pulled away, crouching. She realized she must’ve been suffocating the poor girl. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Na-na.” She sniffed and swiped tears off her cheeks. “Here, come on. Let’s get you back in bed properly.” 

Once Na-yeon was settled back in bed and the machines were all hooked up to her again, Ji-lon finally released a tight breath. She sat on the bed and Gyeong-seok took his former spot in the chair from last night. 

She smiled and laughed in relief while stroking the girl’s soft cheeks. But even now, they were looking thinner than they had a day ago. Ji-lon felt nauseous - not at the sight, but at the thought of her little girl being in so much pain and fatigue. 

“How was… how was the walk?” She asked both Na-yeon and Gyeong-seok with a glance over her shoulder to the latter. 

Na-yeon did not respond. It seemed that she didn’t have the energy to.

Suddenly she realized the girl was clutching onto something red. Her strawberry hat. Ji-lon had handmade that hat for her after she had taken up crocheting. One of the other teacher assistant’s had mentioned that it was becoming more and more popular currently, so she decided to learn as well. So she made that strawberry hat for Na-yeon. Na-yeon wouldn’t leave the house without it. “Your hat,” Ji-lon teared up. “I thought you lost it?” She asked. Then she looked up to Gyeon-seok in confusion.

“You didn’t find it and put it there?” he asked. 

“No, I didn’t,” Ji-lon confirmed.

He nodded. His face was unreadable. Steady. Like the figure he thought he was supposed to be. 

When she looked back at Na-yon, the girl had fallen asleep. The beep beep beep of the machine was a constant drone. It must’ve lulled her out.

“I’ll make sure to wash your hat when I can,” Ji-lon promised, rubbing the bridge of Na-yeon’s nose and across her forehead. An old trick, one she learned from her adoptive mother before she passed. It had always seemed to work to calm Na-yeon down. “I promise.”

She brought her hand back to her lap and after a moment of staring, turned back to Gyeong-seok. He was staring at his daughter, heartbreak evident in his eyes. He wrung his hands together. He didn’t meet her eyes. “I talked to the doctors.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” She asked, but quietly shook her head. “Nevermind. What did they say?” She leaned forward.

“A new medication just came out,” he said slowly. “It’s not… It’s not covered by insurance.”

Ji-lon grimanced. The news made her stomach turn inside out. 

“I’ll  get the money. I just—” He sucked in a breath. “I’ll find a way. There must be a way.”

“We,” she reached forward and took his hand, looking at him thoughtfully. “We will find a way.”

He broke. 

Ji-lon stood quickly, wrapping one arm over his shoulder and resting the other on his back. She thumbed the baby hairs on the back of his neck.

Gyeong-seok took a shuttering gasp and reached up, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her infinitely closer to him. He cried, then. A real cry. He wasn’t even sure Na-yeon wouldn’t wake up from it, but Ji-lon held him all the same through his shaking. It felt like he was breaking. Like glass splinting and breaking apart. Only she was keeping him in place, not allowing him to fall into the floor.

Her lips found the top of his head in a silent reassurance. He nodded against her, trying to show he was thankful. But she knew. She already knew.

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