Work Text:
The room was silent except for the low, soft hum of the flickering light above. It wasn’t much of a room, just a worn safe house with peeling walls and a table cluttered with bloodied bandages and empty whisky bottles. The kind of place they’d found themselves in countless times before.
Goo sat slouched in the corner, a glass of whisky dangling from his hand. His eyes were bloodshot. Not from exhaustion this time, but from something far more destructive.
Gun stood across from him, hands buried deep in his pockets, his face as unreadable as ever. As though the world hadn’t just caved in around them hours earlier.
“Why are you still here?” Goo asked, his voice low and cracked, like something inside him had broken long ago.
Gun didn’t answer immediately. He never did. Instead, his gaze drifted to some invisible point behind Goo, avoiding him altogether.
“You know why,” he said eventually.
Goo let out a bitter laugh, short and sharp like glass scraping against concrete. “Do I? ’Cause I’ve been trying to figure it out, and I keep coming up empty.”
Gun’s jaw tightened, the muscles in his face tensing. “Goo.”
“No, Gun. Don’t give me that tone.” Goo stood abruptly, the chair screeching against the floor. He paced around the room, running a hand through his hair, his whisky now forgotten on the table. “You don’t get to stand there, acting like you give a damn, and then just... walk away whenever it’s convenient for you.”
“I’m here now, aren’t I?” Gun shot back, his voice cold and sharp.
“Yeah,” Goo snapped, spinning to face him, his eyes blazing. “You’re here. But you’re not really here, are you? You’re just standing there, watching, calculating, like I’m just another damn mission you have to complete!”
Gun’s hands curled into fists, but his face remained stoic.
“Say something!” Goo shouted, his voice cracking under the weight of everything he’d been holding back. “Anything!”
“What do you want me to say?” Gun’s voice rose. “That I made mistakes? That I–” He stopped short, his lips pressing into a tight line, the words choking in his throat.
Goo stared at him, chest heaving like he’d just run a marathon. Then he laughed again, softer this time, but no less bitter.
“Don’t,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “Don’t you dare tell me you still love me.”
Gun’s eyes snapped to his, and for a moment, something raw and desperate flashed across his face. “Goo–”
“Don’t,” Goo interrupted, holding up a trembling hand. “Don’t say it. Don’t tell me you love me, because I know what it looks like when you actually do.”
Gun flinched as though Goo’s words had physically struck him.
“And this?” Goo gestured wildly between them, his hand unsteady. “This isn’t it. Not anymore.”
The silence that followed was deafening. The weight of it pressed down on both of them, suffocating.
Gun’s lips parted, but no sound came out. He dropped his gaze to the floor, his shoulders tense, like Goo’s words had carved open something raw inside him.
Goo took a shaky breath, wiping at his face with the back of his hand, though there were no tears. Not yet. “I’ve seen you love me, Gun. I know what it feels like. And whatever this is? It’s not that. It’s not enough.”
Gun looked up, his voice soft but firm. “It’s all I have left.”
Goo let out another laugh, this time hollow and empty. “Then you should’ve held onto it when you had the chance.”
Gun stepped forward, his hand twitching like he wanted to reach out, to grab him, to say something. But he froze, rooted to the spot by the weight of his own silence.
Goo’s eyes softened for just a moment, but it only made his next words hit harder.
“Why don’t you ever fight for me?” he asked, his voice cracking. “Why is it so fucking easy for you to just... let me go?”
Gun clenched his fists, he wanted to say it wasn’t easy. That it was killing and tearing him apart from the inside out, but his silence had always spoken louder than his words.
“You know,” Goo continued, his voice trembling, “you once told me that love is a weakness. That it’s something that can be used against you and I believed you. I really did. But then you…”
He faltered, his voice breaking, and looked away, his hand coming up to cover his mouth like he was trying to keep himself from falling apart.
“Then you showed me that you could love me,” he said, his words muffled but still cutting. “You showed me what it was like to be yours. And now?” He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “Now you’ve shown me what it’s like when you stop.”
Gun stared at him, the weight of the words hitting him like a bullet straight to the chest. His breath caught, his entire body screaming at him to move, to do something.
But he didn’t.
“Goodbye, Gun,” Goo said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.
Gun’s heart twisted painfully as Goo reached for the door, his movements hesitant but determined.
“Goo,” Gun said softly, the word hanging in the air like a last plea. But he didn’t move to stop him.
The door slammed shut behind Goo, echoing like a final nail in the coffin. He leaned against it, his back pressed firmly against the cold surface, chest heaving. His breaths were uneven, ragged, as though the weight of the room he’d just left had followed him out here, threatening to crush him.
“Stupid,” he muttered, his voice barely audible, more to himself than anyone else. “I’m so goddamn stupid.”
But he didn’t leave. Not yet. His legs felt like lead, rooted to the ground, as if his body was waging a war with itself. Half of him wanted to run as far away as he could, the other half was begging him to turn back, to try again.
Inside, Gun hadn’t moved either. He stood in the same spot, frozen, his hands hanging uselessly at his sides. His mind was a storm, full of rage, regret, and something dangerously close to despair swirling together.
For the first time in years, he didn’t know what to do.
And then, just as Goo turned to leave for real, Gun’s voice cut through the silence like a blade. It was muffled, but the words were unmistakable.
“You don’t get to decide what love looks like.”
Goo’s eyes snapped open, his heart skipping a beat. He turned his head toward the door, half-expecting Gun to burst through it, but nothing happened.
Still, the words hit him like a sucker punch. Slowly, hesitantly, Goo turned the handle and stepped back inside. The door creaked on its hinges, and Gun was still standing there, in the same spot, as if he hadn’t moved an inch. His shoulders were squared and his jaw tight. His dark eyes locked onto Goo's like he was daring him to argue.
“What did you just say?” he said, his voice low and dangerous.
Gun didn’t flinch. “You don’t get to decide what love looks like.”
Goo scoffed, stepping fully into the room now, the door swinging shut behind him. “Oh, we’re doing this now? Really? After everything, this is when you decide to fight?”
“I never stopped fighting,” Gun said, his voice calm but firm. “You just never noticed.”
Gun stepped forward, his movements stiff and hesitant. “You think you know everything, don’t you? You think you’re the only one who gets to hurt? The only one who gets to feel betrayed?”
Goo’s jaw clenched. “Don’t.”
“No.” Gun’s voice was sharper now. “You think just because I don’t say it, I don’t show it the way you want me to, that it isn’t there. But it is. It’s always been there.”
Goo’s laugh was bitter, harsher than before. “Oh, please. Spare me the excuses, Gun. You think this is about me wanting you to say something? About me wanting some grand declaration of love?”
“Isn’t it?” Gun shot back, his voice rising.
“No!” Goo shouted, his voice breaking at the edges. “It’s about the fact that you don’t even try anymore! You just… you exist, Gun. You stand there, you breathe, you fight, you survive, but you’re not really living. Not with me. Not with us.”
Gun flinched as if the words were physical blows, but he didn’t look away. He couldn’t.
“Do you know what it feels like?” Goo continued, his voice softer now, trembling. “To look at the person you love more than anything and realise you’ve become just another part of the routine? Just another thing to manage, to deal with, to get through?”
Gun’s hands curled into fists, his nails digging into his palms. “I never meant for it to be like this.”
“But it is,” Goo whispered.
The silence between them stretched thin, taut like a wire ready to snap. Goo took a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping as if everything had finally drained out of him.
“You’re right,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t get to decide what love looks like. But I know what it doesn’t look like. And this?” He gestured vaguely between them, his hand trembling. “This isn’t it.”
Gun’s throat tightened, the words he wanted to say clawing their way up but refusing to come out. For once in his life, he didn’t have the answers. He didn’t have the strategy, the plan, the solution.
And Goo saw it. He saw the way Gun’s mask cracked, just for a moment, and it made his heart ache in a way that was almost unbearable.
But it wasn’t enough.
“I can’t keep doing this,” Goo said finally, his voice breaking. “I can’t keep waiting for you to figure out how to love me when you already showed me you could.”
Gun took a step forward, his hand reaching out as if to grab him, to hold onto him, to stop him from walking away. “Goo, please–”
“Don’t,” Goo said sharply, taking a step back. His eyes burned, but no tears fell. Not yet. He wouldn’t give Gun that satisfaction.
Gun’s hand hovered in the space between them, trembling slightly before he let it drop to his side.
Goo swallowed hard, his gaze softening just for a moment. “I loved you, Gun. God, I loved you so much it hurt. And maybe I still do. But love isn’t supposed to feel like this.”
Gun’s hand dropped to his side, his shoulders slumping under the weight of everything unsaid. “I never stopped loving you,” he said, his voice cracking.
Goo’s eyes softened for a brief second, but it wasn’t enough.
“Sometimes love isn’t enough.”
He turned away, his footsteps heavy as he walked toward the door. This time, he didn’t hesitate.
Gun didn’t stop him. Gun stood there for what felt like an eternity, staring at the closed door, waiting – praying – for Goo to come back. For him to barge in again with one of his infuriating smirks and refuse to leave until Gun said something, anything.
But this time the door stayed shut.
And Gun? Gun broke.
He sank to the floor, his back hitting the wall, his head falling into his hands. The tears came then, hot and unrelenting, breaking through the walls he’d spent years building.
He thought about running after him, about grabbing Goo and begging him to stay. But he didn’t.
Because Gun had spent his entire life believing that love was a liability. That it was a weakness. That it was something people like him didn’t get to have.
And now?
Now, he realised he’d been right all along.
Because love wasn’t just a weakness.
It was his undoing.