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Dae-ho remembered three parts of the attack.
First, he remembered lining up, watching Hyun-ju reload her gun along with the other members of their team. That was the moment his heart started racing. Jung-bae had nudged his shoulder, asked if he was nervous. Dae-ho assured him he wasn't, praying he wouldn't notice his hands shaking.
Then he remembered gunfire. The gunfire wouldn't stop. Blood splattered all over the brightly colored floors. Bullets lodged into the drywall, hunks of it fell onto ground in front of his feet. The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder, sour and sulfurous. The gunfire wouldn't stop.
The last thing he remembered was Hyun-ju. The way she looked at him. It was nothing like what he'd been used to. It was so gentle, so kind. She'd been the one to help calm him down after the guards came back to their room.
After he'd failed the one task he was given. Get the ammo.
All he had to do was get the ammo.
-
The wall was cold against his back as he scanned the layout of the lobby. From as much as he could tell without a clock, it had been a few hours since the attack. The lights were off, but most people were still awake.
Everyone seemed to have formed a group, one person keeping watch while the others tried to sleep. That was why he was awake (he doubted he would have been able to sleep anyway) keeping watch for his group. What was left of his group anyway.
Jung-bae was dead. So was Young-il.
After the guards had taken all the guns they'd stolen and cleared the bodies, their deaths had been announced. It wasn't just them. Everyone on their team had died except him and Hyun-ju.
Nothing was said about Gi-hun. Dae-ho assumed the worst.
It was his fault. He'd dragged the whole team down from the start. All because he couldn't get his stupid nerves under control. It was why he'd been discharged in the first place. Dishonorably discharged.
He'll never forget that day. The shame. The humiliation. The look on his father's face when he'd told him what happened. He'd damn near disowned him.
Post-traumatic stress disorder.
That's what they said he had. It was pathetic. And everyone at home thought so. They all looked at him differently, like he was damaged. Like he was weak.
And how could he even deny it when his hands would shake? When he'd curl into himself, covering his ears like a kid? When he'd cry?
He hated feeling weak. Hated feeling like a failure. Hating having to lie whenever people asked why he left the marines. He hated himself.
He often thought about his life before he'd joined the marines. He'd been so normal then and he'd taken it for granted. He'd never thought he'd end up having panic attacks as a grown man. Seventeen year old him had never even heard of a panic attack. All he wanted was to feel normal again.
"Dae-ho?"
He turned to see Hyun-ju looking back at him.
"Hey." He greeted her quietly. "You don't have to take watch, I can still keep going. I'm not even tired."
He had to be able to do something useful. Hyun-ju sat next to him anyway.
"We can both watch, I can't sleep either."
Dae-ho nodded in understanding.
"She's just trying to make sure you don't screw this up too." A voice that sounded suspiciously like his father's pitched in.
He cringed at the thought. Hyun-ju had been so kind to him earlier when was...indisposed for lack of better words. She kept reassuring him he wasn't in danger anymore. A lie, considering where he was, but it made him feel better at the time.
From the little he could remember, she'd been brave during the attack too. Leading the group like second nature. She was so unfazed by everything. A real soldier.
She must have been upset. Having to comfort him after he ruined the mission. Guilt coursed through his veins as they sat together. He knew one thing for sure, he had to apologize.
"I'm sorry." He muttered out, eyes trained on the floor in front of him.
A cowardly apology. Couldn't even bring himself to look her in the eye. His muscles tensed as he waited for the venom she'd spit out. The anger, the disappointment.
"Don't be."
...
What?
He whipped his head over to look at her. He studied her expression, there wasn't a hint of anger to be found.
"W-what?"
"It wasn't your fault." She said plainly.
Dae-ho blinked at her as two things registered in his brain. One, she wasn't mad at all, and two, he couldn't even begin to understand why she wasn't. People were dead because of him. Because of his weakness.
"Yes it was, I messed up."
She simply shook her head, causing her hair to fall slightly out of place. "It was an impossible job. We never would've made it either way."
"You don't know that."
"I've been on more missions than I can count, I knew going in it was a shot in the dark."
Could've fooled him by the way she'd immediately stepped up.
"And you would've had a better chance if I had brought the ammo like I was supposed to."
Dae-ho had never had to argue about why someone should be mad at him before. It was a strange feeling.
"If you'd gone to bring me the ammo, we would've both died out there. It was for the best."
That took him off gaurd. He hadn't considered that possibility once in the last few hours. He wasn't sure it really changed anything though. Still, he didn't bother arguing with her anymore.
He turned away from her, looking back at the floor. Silence settling between them. For whatever reason, she wasn't mad at him. In fact, she was nice. It was strange. He hadn't expected pity from a soldier. Before he'd been discharged, he was the mockery of his unit. He shivered at the memory.
"I've seen it before."
Dae-ho let out a tiny "Hm?" sound as he turned to face her.
"Ptsd."
His face flushed. He hadn't actually said it out loud often, and his family only ever talked about it in hushed voices behind his back. He compulsively found himself glancing around to see if anyone had heard. Not that it would matter, everyone had seen him earlier.
"I used to be a special forces sergeant." She explained. "I've seen it on so many soldiers, so I get it. You don't have to be embarrassed."
Well, Dae-ho did feel embarrassed. It was embarrassing that they were even talking about it. All he wanted to do was shove the memory deep down inside and never think of it again. That would be selfish though. He deserved to feel ashamed. If he didn't, it'd just be a disservice to all the people who died because of him.
"Well, I am. And please, don't try to make me feel better."
They looked at each other, his expression pleading, and her's sympathetic before she finally nodded her head, obliging.
He was thankful for that. He let out a breathe and he went back to scanning the room. Someone over on the 'O' had switched watch with someone else since they'd been talking.
If he squinted he could vaguely make out he blue patch they wear. For some stupid reason they'd voted to stay. It made him think of Jung-bae. The day he'd voted to stay and sat at the closest possible spot he could near their team, looking like a kicked puppy, waiting for someone to talk to him.
It dawned on him that might've been exactly what he looked like. The real reason Hyun-ju had come up to him. He replayed their conversation over and over in his head, until he realized something. She hadn't accepted his apology.
In fact, she'd completely shot it down. It bothered him. Despite the fact that she'd made it clear she thinks he has nothing to apologize for, what little was left of his pride couldn't just take that.
"If you really want to make me feel better, can you please accept my apology?" His voice is meek, but at least he was able to look her in the eye this time.
She smiled at him, the same understanding smile she'd given him earlier. "Of course."
The acceptance made it feel like a weight was lifted off his chest. It wasn't like it fixed anything, but at least it was one less thing that could bother him.
"Thank you."