#to a snarky and mulish detective ) 😭😭😭😭

[clemencetaught]

@jeoseungsaja sent in:

He'd been out all day. And this time not to get physically wounded in the process (nor to be frantically consumed by a case that's been taking his sleep away for years), but to take a last-minute trip to the beach. To send messages upon the sand. When he was little, his mother, Da-Eun, used to tell him that messages written on the sand, when touched by magnanimous waves, would be sent to those who are no longer among the living. 'Think of them as angels in the water,' she used to say with a smile, whilst taking Hyuk's small hand and guiding him to the endless grains of salt, 'they will take your message anywhere, so the one you're sending it to can read it.' He remembers writing one for his biological mother. And as time went by, he remembers writing many to Da-Eun, too. And now, to his best friend, Patrick. If it was for him, he would've sent his dear friend an entire book of thoughts. However, it's always been hard to realize that these are the only letters that, maybe (even if it's a product of imagination), will get to him. Lines on the sand, taken by sea's foam. He just writes a simple message. Hope it gets somewhere; somewhere, near him. Happy Birthday, Dae-yah. You are missed. He drinks tea in his name. Eats one of those curry puffs he liked so much. Then he heads back; head heavy. He doesn't expect anyone to be there; he told Suki and Jae-Hwan to take the day off, too. Nevertheless, when he twists the doorknob, he sees that familiar shadow again. The Black Knight. He wonders if he knows. If he cares. Well, if he read Patrick's file, then he would know. But who knows if he cares. "I'm not in the mood to see anyone today." A bitter grumble; dark eyes (saddened and tired) looking up to see the covered figure. "Any business you may have, bring it another day." But not today; not today, where he wants to remember Patrick's LIFE instead of his DEATH. He sighs, then basically pushes a bag upon the Black Knight's chest. It's a plastic bag, with the legend of red 'thank you's' written all over it. "Here, have this. I don't need it anymore." Inside, there's a foam container with multiple curry puffs. He doesn't tell him why, there's just an impulse of giving this to him, somehow. As if feeling this man is more or less similar to him. Barely eats. "Now go. Please." Nicely, because as he looks into those eyes, something simply...itches. Gnaws. Pulls strings. "I'll...see you soon." Hyuk forgot to take out the receipt from the bag. The yellowish strip has doodles made with blue ink; a hedgehog with a party hat. It also has the message 'happy birthday, best friend' written next to the drawing. Maybe letters in the sand are sent, after all. They arrive, perhaps. Not in the same of foam, but in the shape of silly doodles and receipts. (HELLO DEAR FERRE, I HOPE YOU DON'T MIND ME SENDING THIS YOUR WAY WIUEDHWIUEDH, there's no need to reply or anything BUT, I HAD TO SEND IT, EVEN IF IT'S A LITTLE LATE; HOPE THIS IS OKAY, TAKE MUCH CARE, CARE YOU TONS!!)

He shouldn’t be here.

Well, there are a lot of places Myungdae shouldn’t be, but when has that ever stopped him? So he offends ANACHRON and the law and probably a bunch of other people by trespassing, but isn’t that the Black Knight’s job in the first place? Stepping on the toes one person, one organization, one complex at a time in order to get the desired result. Waiting around and playing by the rules clearly doesn’t get him or the victims anywhere so he shouldn’t feel any guilt for this set of felonies.

And he doesn’t. Not really.

It shouldn’t be any different here, especially when neither the law nor ANACHRON ( or ARGOS for that matter ) are involved here. 

That being said- a different kind of guilt sets in his stomach here. It’s the kind where he promised Nell he would take the day off today of all days because according to her, ‘it’s your BIRTHDAY, you’re not supposed to work on your birthday’. She didn’t even let him make breakfast for her, Hiro, and Elise like he usually does. 

“Your only job is to relax for today, mate,” she had said, jabbing a finger at him that morning.

( Embarrassingly, or maybe it’s been his preference, he had forgotten about it- his birthday, one chilly day in February. When ARGOS made his new identity, it had taken Myungdae a long minute or two to remember:

“Birthday?” The stenographer had asked, fingers clicking away on his typewriter. In comparison to Nell’s typing, it was cacophony, inhospitable as the grey walls of the facility itself. Nothing at all like Nell’s. He hated it, the way it filled the silence between the probing questions.

Myungdae wavered, eyes glued to the table. When was the last time someone had asked him that? He closed his eyes trying and failing to summon an image of a calendar. “…February.” Which day was it? It wasn’t at the end, but it wasn’t quite at the start either. “Tenth.”

Could you blame him though? When the bulk of his five years were spent purely on a. avoiding ANACHRON, b. making sure ARGOS didn’t think he was burden, or c. most importantly, survival, birthdays, in turn, seem rather…ridiculous. Facetious when there are more important things to be concerned over. )

Myungdae stared back at her, eyes still groggy from having slept bent over his desk instead before she huffed, hands on her hips. “Birthdays are days only good things are allowed to happen, yeah?”

( She was kind enough to just serve him his usual first cup of coffee, however. Nevermind the hearty breakfast that she and Hiro had technically made for him; they could always have leftovers tomorrow. Alfred was kind too- simply gave him his usual coffee order and claimed it was ‘on the house’- he was practicing Latte Wednesdays, you see. )

Which implicitly also means- no BLACK KNIGHT activities today.

And yet here he is lying to her. And slipping into Hyuk’s shoebox of an office in the dead of night. He has yet to truly ask himself- why does he keep returning, coming to this mulishly hard headed detective? This detective whose bite is about as acidic as the words he flings out both carefully and recklessly. It stings each time, each visit like a scab picked off too soon. 

Myungdae tells himself each time he leaves- this will be the last time. Last time he sees his dear friend. Last time he sinks into the past. Last time he’ll put Hyuk in danger.

Sure, Hyuk won’t forgive him, just as he probably hasn’t forgiven Patrick Grace for leaving too soon, but he’ll be ALIVE.

And isn’t that the most important thing, above all else? What other reason would those last five years have been for then?

The detective is not there when Myungdae at first arrives, but air is still abloom with the scent of lilies of the valley and dust. He checks the pot by the window sill- moist, for once. Looks like the detective remembered to water it for once. 

And speaking of which, the door opens. And Myungdae dives into the shadows without another moment to spare. Oh, how Hyuk truly is a conundrum in the way he makes Myungdae’s heart race both in anticipation but also in fear. 

Myungdae is quick to roll his eyes- since when is the detective ever seeking out company? If anything, it’s the other way around: company seeks him out and then clings to him like wet seran wrap. But then he looks up, confused as suddenly, he’s carrying a bag- what’s that smell? It’s fragrant and delightful and familiar and-

He peeks inside before pulling out one of many curry buns. 

Oh. Aren’t those more common in the United Kingdom? If one really wanted to eat them here in Seoul, they’d have to go out of their way to find, like some place in Itaewon. He drops the curry bun back into the bag.

“...I’m not here on any business.” Well, does he ever have a good reason to come back here over and over again? He’s about to dish out another quip when Hyuk’s voice gives him pause. For some reason, it’s almost…hurts to hear. There’s no acidity, no anger- just…melancholy. And a hint of desperation- like he’ll BREAK if the Black Knight says another word. The Black Knight shuts his mouth, frowning.

It stings again though, a little bit more than usual- being told to leave, even if Hyuk will be expecting him on another day. “Very well. I’ll…I'll come back another time.” He opens the window and pauses before leaping out. “...Sleep somewhere that isn’t your desk. Otherwise, you’ll blow your back out.” 

A fair distance away from the eyes of the detective and the rest of the city, Myungdae removes his hat and then his mask before reaching into the red bag. He pulls out the receipt- oh. That’s why.

And here Myungdae thought the detective would have…forgotten after all these years. Isn’t that what time is supposed to do to grief anyways- soften the edges and make the details a little blurrier, a little more difficult to remember? Fingers glide over the hedgehog and underline the hastily scrawn message: happy birthday, best friend.

Myungdae sighs.

( When he gets back to base, Nell and Alfred are both waiting for him. Alfred, for once, sympathetic, and Nell, a little peeved, but can she be blamed? They all know this lifestyle is all-consuming- once you start, it’s hard to put the sword back down. Addictive. Myungdae doesn’t say anything, only perching on the table and setting Hyuk’s bag beside him. He opens the container, takes out A CURRY PUFF and takes a bite, chewing. Slowly.

It’s still warm. Just a little bit.

He takes another bite. )