squid game x reader oneshots

𝙚𝙣𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝? 𝙚𝙣𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝. // gi-hun x reader

story type: angst

tw: cheating

not proofread

post squid game au

word count: 1540
________________________

you find his toothbrush moved again.

it's the third time this week, and he's not even subtle about it anymore. once red bristles, now soft pink at the edges, your color. the kind he would never pick.

"gi-hun," you call out, voice a notch above suspicion, "were you in my drawer?"

he doesn't answer right away. the water in the kitchen sink runs too long, like it's trying to drown the question. you walk out, arms crossed, bare feet against cold tiles. he stands with a dish in one hand, towel in the other, pretending like he hasn't heard.

"gi-hun."

he turns halfway. doesn't meet your eyes. "what drawer?"

"the one with my things. my toothbrush."

he frowns like it's your tone that bothers him, not the meaning. "i just used the sink. didn't touch anything." you stare at him for a beat too long. he puts the cup down too hard.

you've been married six years.

not happily. not unhappily either. somewhere in that liminal space of ordinary disappointment. the kind that never burns hot enough to leave but never cools enough to forget.

gi-hun used to be tender. messy, a little erratic, but he tried. he was a fool. but he was your fool. he made you laugh when your mother got sick. he held your hair when you drank too much at your sister's wedding. he used to write notes on receipts and hide them in your pockets.

you still find one sometimes in old coats. "don't die today." "pick up strawberries. they taste like your mouth." "sorry for being a shit." they were cute. and stupid. but so was he.

but lately, you only find silence.

and the perfume on his collar.

you try to tell yourself it's work, that he's just tired. that you're both tired. that marriage thins out affection like old paint and maybe you're just seeing the primer underneath. maybe you just have to repaint. maybe everyone's life is like this.

but then the nights stretch longer. he starts taking more calls outside. more showers at night. and then one day, he doesn't come home until 3 a.m.

he smells like cigarettes. he quit three years ago.

"i was with sangwoo," he says.

you blink. "gi-hun, he's been dead for four years."

he goes still.

you don't speak again for the rest of the night. you start sleeping on the couch. he doesn't ask why, but you wish he would.

sometimes you hear him moving in the bedroom, pacing like he's trying to walk out of his own skin. you want to go in, you do. you want to ask what's on his mind and why he's been speaking to you less.