Chapter Text
Han Yoojin feared one thing.
It wasn’t death, nor sickness, nor the unknown. It wasn’t the aching, tearing, stabbing pain he constantly felt in his crippled knee or just underneath his ribs. I wasn’t the way people would stare and whisper about him as he passed them on the street. It wasn’t the way he struggled to make rent, and frequently worried about getting kicked out. To him, it was something far, far worse. Something that should’ve been unimaginable if it hadn’t been so damnably real .
The fear he knew was one he confronted often, nowadays. The fear of being left behind by his little brother; his precious person.
He used to wonder why his brother turned his back on him. He no longer has to wonder. He figured it out on his own.
A useless husk of a man who held others back. A burden at best, a curse at worst. A mistake . Truly a hopeless case; his own brother wanted nothing to do with him. It made him want to vomit when he thought too hard about it, so he didn’t. Usually.
How naive to think that his brother would only ever voluntarily leave him. The thought of- of something like this happening was never even considered. Never comprehended in Yoojin’s mind. Because his brother- Han Yoohyun was untouchable. He was an S-class hunter. A powerful person that was never supposed to… Never could have left him like this .
If- If Han Yoohyun had always chosen to leave Yoojin, then there’d always be a chance for Yoojin to mend their broken bond. But this? Now? Now he was too late.
Han Yoojin feared one thing.
Tacky, sticky, thick red oh god it was so red blood stained his hands. It’s pooling, building up slowly yet unceasingly under his soaked knees. It’s on his hands, his face, even under his tongue and it’s all over his- his brother-
Han Yoojin feared one thing.
The air, there wasn’t enough air. It’s caught inside his chest, uncomfortably stuck in his trachea, unable to escape his ribcage. He heaved, eyes wide and trembling fingers gripping onto Yoohyun’s jacket, now ripped to shreds. What had seemed untouchable and powerful now felt so vulnerable and small in his hold. His brother- his, his dying brother-
He couldn’t get his legs to move. Couldn’t shift the heavy weight pinning him down to the ground. His faltering limbs wouldn’t let him, and his stiff fingers refused to stop helplessly clutching the man in his lap. Despite knowing that just sitting here wouldn’t solve anything - wouldn’t un- stab his little brother- he continued holding the other. The gate stone Yoohyun had carefully placed in his palm was all but forgotten about. What was he going to do with that? His only reason for still staying in this fucking shithole of a world was currently dying in his arms.
He had a few problems with Yoohyun, sure. He’d have liked a few solid minutes of unfiltered screaming, crying and yelling to express his complicated emotions towards Yoohyun, but not this. He never, never wanted this.
He guessed he was right from the beginning. Darkened, blank eyes dimmed as they stared sightlessly at the massive dragon encroaching closer and closer to them. He really was terrible luck to everyone who associated with him. Yoohyun must have known from the start. That must’ve been why he abandoned Yoojin. Just look at where they were now: a D-rank dungeon spawning a dragon like Rauchitas? It felt like a cosmic joke.
If he didn’t feel so detached, so out of his own body, he might’ve laughed hysterically. Might’ve even felt more panicked about the approaching dragon. Or maybe not. It’s not like he had much to be concerned about anymore.
His body clambered back up in jolts and cracks, clumsily shifting a limp Yoohyun to the side. On shaking, trembling, knee-knocking legs, Han Yoojin tightly clutched the sword his little brother left behind. The hilt felt too large to hold in one hand, the blade was too heavy and weighty for someone like him. He grasped it harder to compensate, trying to put his meager strength into the weapon that appeared just as lifeless as-
If he was going down, he’d go down with his pound of flesh. Death be damned.
Han Yoojin had only ever feared one thing.
Mustering the last of his energy, he swung the sword around to his front with enough force to nearly send him back to the ground. His damn leg almost crumbled underneath him. Stumbling back into a more stable position, Yoojin threw himself towards the growling dragon, wailing in wordless grief.
Nothing in his body except adrenaline racing through his veins, blood pumping inside his ears deafened him to the howling roar of the legendary dragon. Lost in a haze of angst and throat-clutching fury, all thoughts not pertaining to the sharp sword and its scaly hide flew away from him in the span of a sharp inhale. The dragon stepped closer, blatantly un-intimidated (and perhaps even a little entertained) by his clumsy charge. It gathered itself, prepping for an attack meant to leave him nothing but a scuff on the dungeon floor. He couldn’t find it in himself to care.
He was almost there, uneven footsteps leading him nearly underneath the clawed hand of Rauchitas. The unholy monster engulfed him in its shadow, viperous and gigantic and unkillable. Talons as sharp as jagged glass glinted in the flickering firelight as it tensed up, eager to smash him into the dirt. Until he was nothing but a red smear on the earth. Until no one remembered or cared for his name. Until he was dead. Black pupils constricted to pinpoints as they hastily took in what was to be his last sight. The dragon drew ever nearer, and so did he.
Something yanked at his bloodied hoodie, tugging him to an unsteady halt.
With an aggravated yelp, the grab sent his feet sprawling out from under him. He was forcibly spun around, tumbling into an ungraceful collapse as something else clasped firmly at his waist and his free hand before he could hit the ground. When he finally got his bearings on what just occurred the last five seconds, he’d already found himself staring into amused golden eyes. They seemed to glow in the dim lighting of the dungeon.
“Hello there,” the unexpected stranger smiled.
Yoojin blinked. The man that had suddenly appeared looked (for lack of a better word) affluent . Like he didn’t belong in the middle of a filthy D-rank dungeon. Every stitch on him appeared to be of the highest quality; his vivid, long red coat more so. Rich blond hair swept back from his brow, a few strands falling over elegant eyebrows that raised themselves in quiet appraisal. Piercing eyes as yellow as electricity incarnate peered down at him from a (frankly impressive) height.
If he’d been himself, Yoojin thinks he might’ve swung Yoohyun’s sword at the guy’s head. Alas, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He dazedly looked behind, where Golden-eyes had effortlessly placed himself between Yoojin and the dragon, head falling limply in the newcomer’s grip to dangle loosely.
Unlike him, Rauchitas remained unphased by the newcomer. Assured of it’s win, the dragon continued its advance, fearsome fangs on all three heads bared as it braced itself to spit lethal poison. Han Yoojin watched as it drew one of it’s necks back, poised to kill.
In the few seconds he had left, tired eyes dragged themselves back to the bright gold that hadn’t left him despite the immediate threat. “You should probably get down,” Yoojin distantly croaked.
That odd smile grew, taking up almost half of Golden-eyes’ face. He didn’t immediately move away, and so Han Yoojin dangled there and resigned himself to the gruesome fate of being melted alive. He even closed his eyes, feeling a little comforted that he’d get to see his brother again. This time, he internally swore he'd corner Yoohyun and get his brother to explain himself. That’d be nice. A smile of his own lifted the corners of pale lips.
A whoosh of air, a low chuckle, the crackle of static electricity, and Yoojin braced himself for the painful impact. He waited a second, then a couple more just in case.
Rauchitas roared in outrage.
He opened his eyes.
Golden-eyes was still there, amused smile planted firmly on his handsome face as something similar to his electric glowing eyes shielded both of them. The collision between poisonous spit and intricate, sparking chains that zig-zagged in mesmerizing patterns created an explosive effect behind Golden-eyes, sending licks of flame and liquid power into the air like a destructive halo. The impact itself was enough to flap around the long maroon coat that Golden-eyes wore, platinum blonde hair whipping around a smug face as he watched Yoojin watch him. Yoojin’s own black hair lightly stung his cheeks as loose strands wildly twisted and turned.
“Yoojin-ah, don’t you know better than to charge a dragon?” Teasing eyes sparked with something almost akin to fondness, something unnamable to Yoojin. Without any visible show of strain, he pulled Yoojin up to stand properly in the circle of his arms, one hand still familiarly set on his waist. They were close now - chest to chest - too close .
Do I know you? He wanted to ask. His mouth opened, cracking flesh between reddened and bloodied lips, but nothing came out.
Goldie didn’t mind the pause, continuing the conversation by himself. Something unnamable within Yoojin tells him that the other man did this often. “Ah. Maybe not in this one, hm?” A chiding hum.
Is he crazy?
Yoojin weakly tried to pull away from the grip to no avail, then promptly gave up. He flopped heavily down into the other’s arms, but even with that awkward position the man didn’t flinch. Was he even in a position to care? The answer was a resounding no .
Golden-eyes chuckled, the deep sound resonated through Yoojin’s own chest.
“That’s okay, we’ll teach you survival skills yet. Wouldn’t be the first time .” The man hummed, “Until then-”
Then he snapped, casual and inappropriately playful whilst facing a Tier 1 dragon that had so easily beaten an S-class. The snap reverberated around the wide cavern that made up the boss room, loud and ringing like a struck gong. A second later, and tens, maybe hundreds of sparkling chains wrapped in electricity hailed down from the roof. Impaling the dragon to the floor, multiple others strangled and squeezed all three heads of the howling beast until blood and viscera were all that was left.
Yoojin’s eyes widened from where they had blankly watched the bloody light show. How could something so powerful that it- that Yoohyun… something like that be struck down so easily?
Soon, it was soundless once more. As if the boss monster that had ruined Yoojin’s life had never been a threat to begin with. As if it’d never existed at all.
But it had. He knew. The bodies of those bastards he’d traveled here with, Yoohyun’s- the body- still remained in the corner like a ghost. They still existed. A silent, grim reminder of the dragon’s rage. All too quickly, Yoojin felt a similar anger at not being able to deal the killing blow (as unlikely as it would’ve been).
He glanced towards where his brother quietly laid, ignoring the questioning look from Golden-eyes. The rage left him as abruptly as it came on. Replacing it was broken sorrow. Even regret. One last failure to add to the long, long list, he supposed. Yoohyun would’ve agreed.
“...Young master?” A murmur from the stranger, almost under his breath. Yoojin looked back up. He knows Yoohyun?
Shock and disbelief painted the man’s features as he took in the bloody scene. Finally, that constant smile that had accompanied the man had faded into oblivion. It seemed he, too, believed Yoohyun to be untouchable like he did. A painful mistake for both of them.
The grip on Yoojin tightened in spades, the hold so tight that Yoojin couldn’t help but squirm uncomfortably as bruises formed. Golden orbs flicked back down at him; assessing. Scanning his face for something as the grip on his waist eased. The man seemed unsatisfied with his findings, brow furrowing deeply. His eyes moved down farther, catching on something. A pause, then -
“Let’s let go of that for now, alright Yoojin-ah?” A foreign hand threaded itself between Yoojin’s fisted fingers and…Oh. He was still holding onto Yoohyun’s sword. Despite his wishes to hold onto it, his stiff joints let those long fingers take it from him. Gently - too gentle, why was he so gentle with someone like Yoojin? - the man removed his brother’s beloved sword.
It disappeared in thin air, similar to what hunters did when they stored things in the system inventory. Mutely, he mourned the loss of what was left.
Goldie began speaking again, but Yoojin had stopped listening. It wasn’t important. The terrible dragon that had murdered his little brother had been killed and, besides revenge, there wasn’t much else to focus on now other than-
He forced himself to look at the corpse of his brother. He took in how the blood that had flowed out now looked to be congealed already, dried and stained into the expensive clothes of his brother. He looked so limp, so lifeless -
A large, calloused hand appeared from the side to cover his eyes, but it was too late. The fallen form of his brother, his purpose, had already etched itself into the back of his eyelids. It was then that he understood.
Han Yoojin no longer feared anything.