[written before season 3]

The loud crackle of fireworks sounded from outside, celebrating the new year. The black sky was decorated with brightly covered fizzles of light.

Dae-ho was curled in your arms, shaking. His fists clutched harshly at your nightclothes, his eyes squeezed shut as he fought back the tears that threatened to fall.

As if his time in the marines wasn’t bad enough, the squid games were worse. Honestly, if it wasn’t for Jung-bae and Gi-hun keeping him sane- father figures, sort of- he wouldn’t be here. Without Gi-hun’s knowledge and Jung-bae’s constant parental support Dae-ho was sure he’d be lost.

Another loud crack, another pretty pink pop pattered the sky, fizzling softly as the colour was eaten by the blackness. Dae-ho flinched again, his breath shuddering. Your hand in his hair soother him, but not enough to drive away the demons that plagued his memory and forced him into constant fear. PTSD was a horrible thing, and something that the Squid Games had only worsened.

Dae-ho tried to calm himself; you were here, alive. He was here, alive. You’d voted out. You were okay. Even with his debts paid off, the horrors still remained etched into his brain like a forced carving.