I can’t stop thinking about that conversation Gi-hun and Jung-bae have while on watch, the one that manages to pull out the Gi-hun everyone knew before the games. His entire demeanor transforms, as if it were sitting there beneath the surface, only with something heavy and suffocating weighing it down. His eyes widen, light up as they’re unburdened for just a moment with the thought of saving everyone from an ending like his. It’s just Gi-hun in the moment again, his tone of voice drawn out in that almost bemused, whining sort of way, playful and bantering. There’s hope to it. When Jung-bae mentions getting soju after the fact, even though when he says it he’s not sure he entirely believes he’s getting out alive, Gi-hun allows himself that second, one where he and Jung-bae do get out, and do get those drinks. Where he can regain those snippets of normalcy where he’s laughing with a friend, and maybe he could heal, slip back into what had always been natural for him, and not this darkness inherited from the friend who had died in his arms.
I also can’t stop thinking about how In-ho took this away from him. Maybe you could call it the games taking it away, not In-ho personally, but he did wield the gun. He could’ve made a choice to turn that gun around, to point it at the rest of his soldiers, or even himself. But he chose to do what he did, and it tore away the last shred of hope Gi-hun had of ever really returning to who he used to be, even if it had just been fantasy, of keeping something old and familiar that kept that light tethered. Helped remind him that he wasn’t alone, that it didn’t always have to be this way. But the games, the Frontman, they punish him by waiting until the very last, hopeful 'he'll be back with the magazines' moment, then abruptly pull away that razor thin rug. With these remnants of his past ripped away from him, what else is there for Gi-hun to do but continue to suffocate? Get crushed by that heavy thing, pulling everyone he can out from underneath until it’s only him left laying there. No light left.
