Ali "gi-hun's Angel" Abdul Was Sang-woo's Angel, Too.

ali "gi-hun's angel" abdul was sang-woo's angel, too.

not in the same way, of course.

...

to sang-woo, ali was this wide-eyed, clueless foreigner who was far too kind to be talking to someone like him. he's thankful for the simplest things, while sang-woo strives for perfection to the point of killing him. he said he lived in ansan. he says he'll walk. how can he say that? expecting sang-woo to what, let him? yes, sure, he can't really spare the money, but the idea of this relatively-puppy-looking guy wandering the streets until he finds his way home is not something he needs on his conscience at this time. so he gives him the money, and tells him to stop calling him that damn honorific. there's no need for that. when they get back to the games, ali's back. sang-woo makes a mental note of his strength when gi-hun points it out. he was willing to risk his life for others, too. those are good traits for an ally. sang-woo can make up for any lack of knowledge that might arise. they're a perfect team, when he thinks about it (oh, he'll end up thinking about it alright).

...

after the fight—when they were all banded together like a real team—they now sit to recover. ali looks embarrassed when he mistakes gi-hun's (their) hometown as his name. sang-woo asks for his, because he's a good ally friend. sang-woo hasn't had a friend in years. something about being in debt and going through depressive episode after depressive episode and not being able to look anyone you know in the eyes because how could you? after failing that badly? how could you?

it doesn't hurt like that when ali looks at him. sure, he feels the normal amount of guilt. ali thinks he's pretty kind for that move at the convenience store. he isn't; he knows he isn't. but ali doesn't look at him like gi-hun looks at him, like he's hung every star in the damn universe. ali thinks like that about anyone who treats him like a human. it hurts less, knowing that. sang-woo knows that in order for him to win, ali will have to die. everyone will have to die. he'll worry about that later.

... while they're on a night shift, ali shares his food with him. he's still thinking about the bus fare. why? he's already eaten. there's no reason for ali to starve. he splits it, though, because he doesn't want to refuse for another time.

ssajangnim. ssajangnim. ssajangnim. no one else ever corrects him. sang-woo doesn't know why. it's uncomfortable. he smiles when ali calls him hyung. he doesn't remember the last time he's smiled like this. a genuine smile. it quickly wipes off his face. he's here for money. of course, so is sang-woo. but sang-woo's here for his mom, mainly. he doesn't know why he was stupid enough to use her in his rabbit hole of debt. too late to lament that now. is ali here for his parents?

ali is a parent. he's got a kid. one. a one year old. sang-woo's going to vomit, his eyes prick with tears. he doesn't cry though, he never does. there's no way someone this... good is ever going to make it out of here. he's only taken out of his thoughts when ali asks him the same.

his reason sounds kind of pathetic now. he says it's about money, too.

...

the next game is duo-based. it's a no-brainer. ali's kind enough to look over at gi-hun. sang-woo needs to win. ali needs to win. they could do this.

the rules of the game are explained. sang-woo can't. he can't do this. he's not going to die.

ali's kindness isn't a virtue anymore. it's a liability. the clock is ticking. his flaws get glaringly bright like this. how do you not know what an even number is? sang-woo explains as patiently as he can. how is he winning. sang-woo was the intelligent one, wasn't he? he was the one who went to business school. hell, this is a guessing game. how the hell is ali winning? it's just like his debt. he's failing. he's failing at the one thing he's supposed to be good at. ali must be cheating. he has to be. sang-woo can't be failing again. he can't fail again.

the clock is ticking. sang-woo feels sick to his stomach. he begs, he pleads, he... he's looking at rocks. he turns to ali. he has a plan.

... "player 199, eliminated." sang-woo feels like he's being compressed by a machine. he breathes out and everything aches. he keeps walking. ... sang-woo's eating alone. funny, how most of his meals would be by ali's side. shared with him. shared with a friend. but friends come and go. he only knew ali for a couple days. it's not that special, he thinks.

his hands are shaking. ... he's fucking outraged at that husband. how could he not go on, huh? didn't he love his wife? didn't he care about her? how could he sit there, knowing her corpse is somewhere out there where he can't even retrieve it. he wants to give up the money? he wants to make her worthless? he grabs that man by the collar and gives him a piece of his mind. that night, he thinks about ali. really thinks about it. fuck, he was such a bastard. that man had a wife, a kid... things he'll never have. things he took away from him. kind, naive ali. he had more heart than sang-woo ever had, that's for sure. deserved more too. an angel, he remembers gi-hun saying. well, he doesn't have ali anymore. he tore those wings out when he betrayed him. he doesn't need an angel, in here. he needs to survive. he'll do whatever it takes. he can't fuck up now. he couldn't before, either. but not now. not after what he's done. ... player 069 is hanging from the metal frame, lifeless. was it what he said? no time to dwell on it, he thinks to himself, swallowing the feeling of guilt that blooms in his chest.