Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The bowing alley is irritably quiet, and even the sound of the machine he’s killing time on doesn’t help Seongje shake off his annoyance. The itch under his skin, the one he used to satisfy with violence, pain, and blood, is now almost constant. 

It’s been a few days since Baku, like an idiot, Seongje expected him to be, announced a declaration of war in front of Baekjin’s entire school. And of course, as every time it comes to Baku, the so-called level-headed Union leader lost his mind. He called off all members from the streets to “organise” and “plan” and other things, which Seongje is not interested in. In any other situation, he wouldn’t care for Baekjin’s orders, but with his upcoming betrayal, he prefers not to have both the Union and the little avenger squad going after his head.

Sieun shows up right before he’s about to beat a level, so he ignores him until the machine rings with cheerful music and the screen flashes a big colorful “WINNER”. 

Only then does Seongje turn towards Sieun. And what he sees is not at all impressive. He still can’t believe he actually lost to someone like him. The itch gets stronger almost immediately. He still craves Sieun’s blood. He wants to have him bruised and heaving on the ground while Seongje kills the rest of his will to live with his fists. 

He takes his smokes out instead and lights one. It won't help. Not for long anyway.

“Sad eyes.” He says in lieu of a greeting, but he gets no reaction in return. They size each other for a moment, and he can see how Sieun is bracing himself for a fight. 

It’s to be expected. He has a reputation, both inside and outside the Union. He grins, a new idea slowly forming inside his head.

He fishes the burner phone out of his pocket, but before Sieun can grab it, he moves it outside of his reach, which is not all that difficult.

Sieun freezes. Seongje's grin gets bigger. 

“You know, this whole thing is making me feel like a good person.”

“What do you want?” 

Seongje quite enjoys the anger in Sieun's eyes. He leans back on the chair, tutting in a false consideration. “Another deal?”

“We are keeping your name out of this already,” Sieun says in this monotone voice of his. It makes Seongje want to smash his head on something. “You help us, we won't send you to prison. What else do you want?”

Seongje has so many ideas. Bloodbath. Revenge. Eunjang burned to the ground. Baku’s head. 

He’s about to choose one, but another set of steps rings in the quiet room. He frowns in annoyance. He wasn’t planning on fighting, but if Sieun brought someone from the idiot squad, he’s going to. But instead of Baku, or the other one, someone else barrels in and immediately trips on one of the broken light pieces still lying around.

It takes a second to drag the face from the depths of his memory. The last time he saw the little Eunjang weakling, he was covered in blood from head to toes. He can’t decide which state of his face suits him better.

“Sieun-ah.” 

Sieun seems as surprised as Seongje. He takes a step closer to him, turning his back to Seongje. He frowns at it, but he’s too immersed in what’s happening to do anything about it.

“Juntae.” Sieun puts his hand on Juntae's forearm, making him take a few steps back, turning them around so Sieun is now standing between him and Seongje. It’s not like it’s necessary. Seongje, at this moment at least, is on their side, and Juntae clearly can take a punch if Seongje's memory serves him right. And he’s sure it does. 

“We couldn't reach you.” He says quietly, glancing at Seongje nervously. “The others, they are on their way to the field.”

“Tick tack, sad eyes.” Seongje hums with a smirk. Sieun sends him a glare in response. He looks like he’s ready to leave, but Seongje waves the burner as a reminder. 

“What do you want?”

Seongje feels like laughing. He glances at the weakling, just for a short moment.

“I want to take something of yours, at my convenience.” He says after a moment. He’s not planning on being more specific, in case he changes his mind later. But the idea is so clear in his head, he doubts it will. 

“No.” Sieun spits out. And then: “Something like what?” 

Seongje shrugs. “Something I’ll want.”

“Name what you want and we will have a deal, otherwise–”

“Sieun-ah.” Juntae says quietly. He puts his hand on Sieun’s shoulder, so now they just hold themselves weirdly. “They need you. You need to go and stop other kids from fighting.”

Now Seongje really feels like laughing. How funny is he? Doesn't he know that half of the people there live to fight? That they are only a few steps behind Seongje's insanity? His innocence is laughable. Admirable, but laughable. 

Sieun stands there for a moment longer before nodding at Juntae and then at Seongje. 

“You get to take one thing, as long as it’s harmless.”

Seongje nods because that little promise won't stop him anyway. He throws the phone at Sieun, who catches it easily and then passes it to his friend. With one last glance, he turns around and runs off to be a hero, they all apparently think he is. 

Seongje takes out another cigarette and lights it quickly, hoping it will subdue some of the itch. When he looks up, Juntae is still standing where Sieun has left him. He turns to leave after a small and awkward bow.

Seongje grins at him, all teeth and no warmth. 

“I’ll see you later, Juntae-ah.”

***

By the time Juntae gets to the field, it is all over. Baekjin is lying on the ground, surrounded by the Union members, each of them with surprise written on their faces. Apparently, no one expected him to lose, but Juntae always believed that his friends would win. 

Baku, Hyeontak, and Sieun are all covered in blood, some worse than others. Sieun looks like he was hit by a car, and if the stories about Baekjin's fighting skills are true, he probably feels like it too. 

Juntae feels guilty that he wasn’t here earlier, that he didn’t fight alongside his friends, but he knows he wouldn’t be much help anyway. He made sure that the burner phone was safe and that everything that Sieun had planned for it was completed instead. 

Now, a few weeks later, they are sitting in the corner of the school library with Sieun’s books on one side of the table and Baku and Hyeontak’s snacks on the other. 

After Suho woke up, Sieun spends most of his time by his side, skipping cram school and anything else that’s not Suho-related, so he catches up on studying in every moment he can at school. And as much as everyone misses spending time with him outside of school, they all also understand. That’s why instead of playing basketball outside, they are sitting next to their friend. 

Sieun doesn’t seem to be paying attention to them, but Juntae can see the corners of his mouth rising slightly ever so often when Baku says something obnoxious.

Juntae should be part of the bickering; he usually would, but he catches himself staring unseeingly outside the window instead. Ever since that night, he’s been hunted by no other than Geum Seongje. And he’s not even sure why. Sure, he’s scary, like a feral animal would be, but at the end of the day, he did decide to help them take down the union at the low price of… Juntae is not sure. 

He didn’t get the conversation that was happening when he barged in, but it didn’t seem he asked for much. And thanks to that phone, they were able to put the younger kids into “delinquency homes” and the older ones into prison for the extended list of crimes they kept on file. Juntae still has it all in a locked folder on his computer; he’s not sure why, but he does. 

But what haunts him the most is the smile Seongje sent him between puffs of smoke.

The ‘ I’ll see you later, Juntae-ah.’

The ‘Juntae-ah.’

He’s not sure why it stuck inside his head. And he can’t ask anyone. Baku would get loud about it and then offer no actual help, Hyeontak would get angry and start looking for him, and Sieun… Juntae doesn’t want anyone else to get stabbed. Even if it’s Seongje.

So he keeps those thoughts to himself. As well as the little memory he has of warm hands on his sore body, lifting him from the floor. He doesn’t know why Seongje helped him ten too. It seemed so out of character, Juntae thought he was dreaming. Until Baku mentioned it the next day.

He shakes his head to clear it and picks up one of the bags at random. He needs to get better. Leave the Union and all its members behind him. The school year is almost done, just a few more weeks of work, and then the holidays will start. 

Juntae has a folder on his tablet with all the places they will visit once Suho feels good enough for it. He’s excited. He never had friends like this, who would make summer plans together and meet in a library to just be in each other's company.

He glances at Sieun. 

As much as the time they were fighting the Union was terrifying, he’s somewhat grateful for it. If Sieun didn’t help Juntae to be brave and return the phones, leading to the Union huffing at their necks, he wouldn’t be here, this happy.

***

The itch has turned into a constant hum under his skin, so constant that it has become almost forgettable. Seongje expected it to get worse once he’s back in this shitty area, but it didn’t, which suprised him. He almost misses the itch.

After the Eajoung won the freedom from the Union, Baekjin’s death, and his job refusal from whoever Baekjin's boss was, Seongje packed a few things and disappeared. He didn't worry about the Union rejects; it would be an easy win, but having actual mafia on his back wasn't something he cared for.

The school welcomes him after a year of absence as if he never left, with fearful glances and a wide breath of space. After a brief but not friendly or truthful conversation with faculty, he was allowed to enter the last year of high school, only a few months short of graduation. 

The teachers still avoid him as much as they can. Trying to pretend like he's not here, which suits him just fine. He’s not interested in participating in class anyway. His grades are good without much effort, and with the fake grade slip he gave them, which they have to know is fake but never questioned, he’s not worried. Seongje doesn't care about school, but he can focus for long enough to ace things here and there.

But he’s bored. It hasn’t been a full month since he’s been back, and he’s already bored. He started walking around the worst areas late evenings and nights, trying to find a fight, but the streets were weirdly deserted of them. For a second, he thought about joining some club, just to get to use his fists again, but the limits they set are not something he would ever align with. 

He picked up some fights at school, mostly as a reminder of who he is, regardless of whether he has the Union behind him or not, but none of them were actually interesting. Finished before he could even get a proper punch. He didn’t remember his school having so many losers around, but a lot can change in a year. 

He did register the absence of the usual thugs that followed him around back in the day, but he doesn't care enough to ask around. He’s not even sure who he could ask. Baekjin is dead.

It’s another late night, he’s out on the street, chain-smoking and looking for a fight. Something to kill his boredom, even games can’t help now. He wanders around without thinking, looking at his feet, and somehow he ends up in a familiar place. 

The obnoxious “Eunjang fight” in Baku’s scribble makes him seethe. 

He’s about to turn around when upbeat footsteps echo in the tunnel. He leans on the wall, waiting to see who it will be. If he’s lucky, it will be one of the Eunjang late-night students he will beat up for his own pleasure. 

He must have been a saint in his previous life, because the figure walking closer and closer is a true godsend. He waits until he’s just a few steps past him before he calls out.

“Juntae-ah.” 

The boy jumps and turns around so quickly that he loses his footing. His eyes are impossibly big, and his lips are open in shock. Seongje grins.

“Se-Seongje! What… what are you doing here?” He looks around as he asks. Seongje is not sure if he’s looking for salvation or an escape route. It’s funny regardless. 

“Why? Am I not allowed to be here?” He grins, lighting another cigarette. This one actually burns his throat. 

“No! It’s not that. It’s just…” He hesitates. “After Baekjin.. We thought…”

“What? That I’m dead?” Seongje laughs. Juntae somehow shrinks into his shoulders, looking anywhere but him. “I’m not as easy to kill as that lovesick idiot.” He scoffs. “Besides, I have my debt to collect. I wouldn’t leave without it.”

“Debt?” 

Seongje hums in confirmation. He flicks a half-burned cigarette away and pushes his hands in his pockets. “Debt sad eyes promised me for my help. I did say I would collect it at my convenience. It’s convenient now.”

Juntae looks around again, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Seongje lets him think about it for a moment. He’s offended that the weakling didn’t remember right away; it was a lovely moment they shared there, but it has been a long time, so he will forgive it just this once.

“But… you were supposed to collect the debt from Sieun, not me.” He says, finally.

Seongje pushes away from the wall and slowly comes closer to the other boy. They are the same age, but Juntae is so much smaller that it’s making Seongje giddy. Makes him wanna laugh and grab, and pull. He grins again. 

“No, Juntae-ah. I’m not collecting the debt from you.” They are now standing one breath away. Seongje needs to lean down for them to be face-to-face. “You are the debt I’m collecting.”

Chapter Text

For a moment, Juntae thinks he heard it wrong. He must have, because what came out of Seongje's mouth doesn’t make any sense to him. It rings in his head like broken bells. Off tune and forced. He swallows hard and then bites his lips, trying not to have a nervous giggle episode. As far as he knows, that might be the trigger to his painful, fist-induced death.

Seongje’s eyes drop with that movement, and only then does Juntae register how close they are standing. He takes a hasty step back, but Seongje grabs the front of his open jacket, pulling him back. He keeps his hand there, and Juntae knows he won’t be able to move away again.

He hears the never forgotten ‘I’ll see you later, Juntae-ah’ Seongje said to him so long ago. His tone full of painful promises, and a smile full of teeth.

He's a bunny at the mercy of a wolf.

“In what way am I… the debt?” He asks because since the last time he saw Seongje, he has grown into someone who would step into that field.

Seongje smiles again, and it’s the same smile as on that day, never changed despite the time that passed. Seongje’s hand moves inside his jacket, closing over Juntae's hip bone. He doesn’t press his fingers into the sensitive skin there, not in a painful way. Juntae shifts, swallowing a sound threatening to escape his mouth at the firm hold.

“In any way I want, Juntae-ah.”

Juntae feels his mouth open in shock. Because again. It makes no sense to him. Why would Seongje even bother with him? Not once, in the Daesung Bikes, not twice, in the bowling alley, but three times? Juntae is not someone who should be on the radar of someone like Seongje. At least not in that way. He should be in the ‘victim’ category.

He knows how he looks, how his frame makes it easy for others to push him around.

He’s not sure what to say, and the silence stretches. Seongje uses that time to shift his hand. Two of his fingers slip under Juntae's t-shirt, and he shudders.

Before he has a chance to react, Seongje is already pulling away, Juntae's phone in his hand. And for some reason, he feels a ping of disappointment. He bites the inside of his cheek in reprimand. He must be unwell. It’s the only explanation. The smell of cigarettes, heavy around Seongje, must have poisoned him somehow, and that’s why he can’t think clearly.

That’s why he felt disappointed instead of relieved.

Seongje's phone rings once, and then he passes Juntae’s phone back, slipping it into his back pocket with ease.

“You will keep this a secret from your little guard dogs, hym?” Seongje hums, and Juntae catches himself already nodding. He stills the movement, but he doesn’t deny it.

If Seongje plans to hurt him, Juntae knows that no one will let him live this down. Not Baku, not Hyeontak, not even Suho. But definitely not Sieun.

So in Juntae's mind, there is no reason to refuse. To cut whatever this is short. To not follow his curiosity.

“I’ll see you later, Juntae-ah. Don’t run away.” Seongje laughs quietly and, with a last pat on Juntae's cheek, he leaves.

Juntae doesn’t know what to do with himself. So he stands in the same spot for a long time. Long enough for his confusion to clear just a little bit.

His phone pings with a new message, and he reaches for it with a shaky hand.

From: Seongje
‘Go home. You don't want any other bad wolf to catch you.’

Juntae quickly looks around before running home. Did Seongje stay behind to watch him? Or did he know Juntae would stay in that tunnel thinking about what happened?

Juntae doesn’t know what he’s hoping for, really. He just hopes for some answers.

As expected, he doesn’t sleep at all that night. He turns, and then turns again, running the entire encounter in his head over and over again. Seongje’s eyes, burning with madness, his fingers on his skin, his words. He’s trying to understand it all, but he can’t.

If Seongje wanted to hurt him, he could have; he had plenty of opportunities. No one came even close to the tunnel. He could have killed Juntae five times over, and his grateful that he didn’t, he really is, but that means… Juntae isn’t sure what that means.

The next morning, when Sieun asks if he’s feeling alright, his phone burns in his pocket.

***

Seongje regrets leaving the trembling bunny in that tunnel. He should have taken him home and devoured him piece by piece. But it wouldn’t be as fun, and fun is all Seongje wants. He could take all he wanted from Juntae, he looked like he would ask how high if Seongje told him to jump, but it’s not what he wants. He wants the trembling bunny to come to the bad wolf. He wants Juntae to come to him willingly.

He wants him to lose his mind over it.

He spins a cigarette between his fingers, leaning back on his chair. The lesson ended not so long ago, and he’s forced to listen to the rest of the class gossip loudly all around him. He can’t be bothered to go outside for a smoke. If he leaves now, he won’t come back. He just returned to school, so he should give them a small window of an illusion of good behavior before he breaks something again.

All the chairs around him are empty, as they always are during the breaks, so when someone drops into a chair right in front of his desk, he looks up in surprise. He doesn’t recognise the fridge of man in front of him. But again, he never paid attention to people in the corridors.

What’s surprising is the arrogant glare he’s looking at Seongje with, like we won’t break his skull on the very same desk he’s leaning on.

He spins his cigarette again, raising his eyebrows. He wants to see what the fridge has to offer before he uses him as a distraction for his boredom.

“I didn’t think it’s true, but you really are back, huh, Seongje?” His voice is as annoying as his face.

Seongje scoffs. “You are quite badly informed. I’ve been back for a while now.”

The fridge frowns unhappily and looks at his sidekick with a fake laugh. Seongje can recognise the posturing with no problem. He’s here for trouble. Seongje can’t wait.

“You might have been gone for too long, hiding away after your boss died.” He laughs again, but it’s cut short when Seongje doesn’t react. “I’m the new boss of this school. You should have come to me and asked nicely to be back.”

“Ask nicely, huh?” Seongje laughs. It’s almost hysterical. This no-name, wannabe gangster tells him, the Geum Seongje, to ask for permission? He can’t stop laughing. He doubles over before leaning back again. He needs to wipe the corners of his eyes once he’s done laughing.

The classroom is now dead quiet. The students gather near the walls, prepared for the fight they know is coming.

“Yah, meathead, didn't you go ahead of yourself a little bit?” Seongje puts the cigarette behind his ear. “Should I explain your mistakes to you?”

He doesn't wait for whatever the fridge wants to say. He stands up and smashes his head on his desk with his hair. Once, twice, and then two more times. When he pushes the guy away, there is blood on his notebook. He doesn’t have time to appreciate it. The sidekick swings at him, and he has to dodge to avoid getting punched in his face. He moves quickly, throws two punches on the guy's stomach until he doubles over, and falls on the ground.

By the time he straightens up, the fridge is back up and has two more guys standing behind him. Seongje laughs.

“You should have found me way sooner.” He kicks the nearest table away to make more space. “I was getting bored.”

He lunges, and so do the other guys. The rest of the fight is a blur. He knows he’s laughing, throwing punches after punches, his fists are bloody, but he can’t tell if it’s him or the guys. His face hurts in that specific way, he just knows he will be bruised.

He hasn’t felt so alive in a long time.

By the time the wannabe gangsters are crippled on the ground, moaning in pain and the students guaks at him with fear, Seongje feels like himself again. His skin finally doesn’t feel like it’s stretched too tight on his body.

He straightens and grabs a random shirt lying around. He wipes his hands on it, and it looks like some of the blood was his. His knuckles are open and bloody. He gives up on cleaning them.

Looks like the school day is over for him. He reaches for another cigarette, he lost the one he put behind his ear, and stomps over the bodies.

“Clean it up.” He throws behind his shoulder. “I better find my shit clean when I’m back.” He hears his classmates scrumbling to do as he says before he even closes the classroom doors.

Both students and faculty turn away as he passes by. No one even tries to look at his face, and no one definitely tries to stop him. He leaves the school grounds surrounded by whispers.

He doesn’t know why he ends up in the same tunnel. He knows it’s risky. It’s the chosen way for the Eunjang idiots to go through, but he doesn’t care. With the good mood his in, he wouldn’t mind another fight if it came his way. He can still make a fist.

He should have gone home, cleaned himself up, but he really didn’t feel like it. Besides, it’s only a bit longer walk anyway, his new flat being somewhat between his school and Eunjang. By coincidence only.

He stops in the same place where he met the bunny yesterday, sits on one of the abandoned crates, and only then does he light up his cigarette. It doesn’t subdue the pain, but Seongje doesn’t want it to. He enjoys the feeling. It’s been a long time since he faced something resembling a challenge.

“Oh my god.”

He looks up at the sharp gasp.

“What happened to you?” Juntae runs closer and drops to his knees in front of Seonge. He looks at him in surprise, not expecting any of it. He didn’t even think he would see Juntae. It’s way too early for the school to be done. Especially for a nerd like that.

Juntae hoovers his hands over Seongje’s, right above his wounds. He tightens his fist, and his knuckles start to bleed again. He watches Juntae's worried face with glee.

“Nothing you need to worry about.” He puffs the smoke somewhere above Juntae’s head. “Instead, you should worry if I won.”

Juntae looks up at his face. Eyes impossibly big. “Did you win?” He asks quietly.

Seongje’s face splits in a grin. He leans down. “Of course.”

Something like an amusement flickers on Juntae’s face, but it’s gone before Seongje can burn it into his memory. The worry is back full force. Which is fine, Seongje enjoys it too.

“Even if you won… it doesn’t look good.” He gets up suddenly. “Stay here.” He points at the ground where Seongje is sitting, and his eyebrows twitch at being talked to like a dog. Juntae blushes with shame but doesn't apologise. It’s interesting. “I will be right back.”

And off he goes, disappearing around the corner. Seongje sighs and leans back. He’s sitting in a somewhat secluded spot, but if one of the other avenger decides to pass by, they will see him. And he thought he wouldn't mind another fight, but now, after he sat down for a moment, he felt the energy slowly draining out of him. The previous dull became an ache, and everything is throbbing. Still, Seongje clenches his fists again, letting the small wounds reopen.

The bunny is back before Seongje can finish another cigarette. Juntae picks and throws it away before wrapping his short fingers around Seongje’s wrist, pulling him up.

Seongje indulges him and gets up. There is no chance Juntae would be able to pull him anywhere.

“There has to be a cafe somewhere around here with an outside seating area.” He says, leading them down the road. “You’re too bloody to get inside anything, but we need to take care of it before it gets infected. If it does, it will leave a scar.”

Seongje laughs. “I have plenty of scars already, Juntae-ah.”

“It doesn’t mean you need another one.”

Scars are just a byproduct of his lifestyle. Days of the calendar are carved on his skin. He never minded them. He barely acknowledged them. He glances at his hands. His knuckles are still bleeding, blood dripping down his fingers now, but even under the blood, he can see the white lines. Hm.

“You don't like them?” He grins. “I think they look nice.”

“Charming,” Juntae mutters under his breath. Seongje doesn't think he expected him to hear it. “They are not healthy for you. And even if you do like them, it doesn’t mean you should develop an infection.”

Seongje leans his head back to look at the sky. He truly was a saint in his previous life, for god to send someone like Juntae his way. This is naive, optimistic, and foolish. His little trembling bunny.

“Alright.” He says. “I know a place.” He moves into a sideroad, and Juntae follows him with his hand still around Seongje’s wrist.

Chapter Text

Seongje expects Juntae to turn around and run off when he leads him inside his apartment complex, but he doesn’t. He looks at him with anticipation as if Seongje is too slow in entering his flat door code.

Seongje opens the door and waves for Juntae to go in first, and he goes in without a backward glance. Seongje is perplexed. This is not what he expected. He’s trembling bunny is not trembling at all.

Seongje closes the doors behind him and follows Juntae, who’s already moving around his living room. He watches him rearrange pillows on his couch and empty his backpack of what has to be half of a pharmacy on his coffee table.

“What is all this?” Seongje gestures at the mess. He falls onto his couch, in the spot Juntae apparently prepared for him, if he read the pillow nest right.

It’s weird. The whole situation. It’s not going the way he wanted. He expected Juntae to quiver, stutter, and hesitate with every other movement. To refuse entering Seongje's flat, where they are locked in together, and Seongje can do with him whatever he wants.

Instead, Juntae looks almost sure of himself. His movements are confident when he opens this and that, sorting through things Seongje doesn’t recognise.

Juntae sits next to him on the couch, separated by the pillow with something that smells of alcohol between his fingers.

“Give me your hand.” It’s almost an order, and Sengje obeys with the corners of his mouth twitching with a suppressed grin.

Juntae cleans his hand from blood, and fuck it stings.

Juntae moves to some thick cream he applies to Seongje's wounds, before putting a bandage over it. The puts finished hand on Seongje’s lap and reaches for the other, repeating this process. Seongje doesn’t say anything. He’s just watching, transfixed.

The most he ever attempted was to wash the blood off with water and call it a day. He doesn’t know why Juntae would bother with those extra steps. It can’t make that much difference.

“Back when the Union was controlling the schools, I was bullied a lot,” Juntae says suddenly. It’s not a surprise to Seongje. Juntae looks like someone who would be bullied. But now the trembling bunny is his to play with, his to draw blood. He grits his teeth as a surge of rage washes over him. He wants to find the fucker who hurt whats his and break his hands.

“Going to school nurse or teachers, only made it worse, so I learned how to patch myself up.” He finishes fixing Seongje’s other hand, but instead of packing everything up, he opens another disinfecting wipe. “After Sieun protected me and we started fighting the Union, I also learned how to help others. I became a sort of group nurse.” He laughs. Seongje doesn’t know what’s funny about it. “Lean down.”

Seongje raises his eyebrows in surprise. He’s half tempted to look behind him and check if he’s talking to someone else. No one orders Seongje like that and leaves with their face intact.

“Seongje…” Juntae says quietly and glances to the side for a moment, the shyness blooming over his features once again. Seongje thinks he likes him like that the best. “I need to clean your face too.”

Seongje frowns on confusion, and it makes the pain over his face come back full force.

Right. Seongje forgot about it.

He shifts, pulling one of his legs onto the couch, and leans down, way closer than Juntae asked him to. The space between them is almost non-existent now. They are even closer than yesterday, and it makes Juntae blush in a way that reminds Seongje of the blood he was once covered in.

It has the same effect on Seongje.

“You should be careful, Juntae-ah. You are going to give me the wrong impression.” Seongje half-whispers. The grin on his face is so big it stretches his skin, reopening the few cuts he has there. He can feel blood on his tongue and running down his brow.

Juntae’s eyes widen, his mouth opens in a gasp. He seems frozen in place, with fingers twitching somewhere on their way to Seongje’s face.

“I don’t…” He clears his throat and leans back. Seongje follows, not letting him escape. “I don’t know what you mean.” He averts his eyes, looking to the side, then down, Seongje’s eyes, and then to the side again.

“You’re such an amusing person, Juntae-ah.” He laughs. He leans back again before Juntae bolts out the doors. He’s not done with him just yet.

Juntae doesn’t move for another minute or so. The blush still didn’t disappear completely, and Seongje wants to sink his teeth is his cheek. He reaches for his cigarettes instead.

Juntae comes back online and stops him with a hand on his, just before he has a chance to light one.

“Let me clean your face first. I can’t sta–…” He clasps his mouth shut mid-word and clears his throat. He brings the wipe to Seongje's face, but before he can touch his lips, Seongje leans back, out of reach.

“You can’t what?” He asks. “Don't be shy now. You already act like you own the place.”
Juntae hesitates, but then he visibly gets it together. His back straightens a bit, and he looks Seongje in the eyes. Not many people can do it anymore. It makes Seongje grin.

“I can’t stand the smell of your cigarettes.”

Seongje laughs, loud and clear. It makes Juntae shift a bit at that, but he doesn’t turn away.

“You are such an interesting person, aren't you, Eunjang bunny?”

“Whatever.” Juntae murmurs, but it lacks any sort of heat. “Are you going to let me clean your face or not?”

Seongje shrugs and leans down, just enough for Juntae to reach and do whatever he wants with those wounds.

***

Juntae thought he would be out the door as soon as he put the last bandage on Seongje’s face, right above his eyes, but he’s still inside his house, sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee, Seongje made him, and some random TV drama was playing in the background.

He doesn’t know what he’s going here. He doesn’t even know why he’s here in the first place.

When he saw Seongje sitting in the same spot, covered in blood, he acted on instinct. He just wanted to help. Instead, he’s stuck in this almost awkward silence with Seongje, who doesn’t seem to realise it’s awkward.

He’s spread on the couch, with one arm on the backrest and one of his feet on his knee. He looks at ease. Everything Juntae is not.

At least he hasn’t had another cigarette yet.

Juntae looks around the living room. It’s not the most spacious space, but it still fits a three-seat couch, a coffee table, a large TV, and a bookcase filled with some books and knick-knacks. Juntae is not sure actually belongs to Seongje. There is a plant on top of the bookcase. Real and alive.

“There are no pictures anywhere.”

Seongje looks at him. “Why would there be any?” He looks genuinely confused, and it makes Juntae confused too.

“What about…” He hesitates. Is it safe to ask? Seongje didn’t hurt him in any way, yet. He’s still weirdly threatening from time to time, but he looks less feral and more… seated. Like he just had a full meal. “You don’t live with your family?”

Seongje laughs. He reaches for his cigarettes, but before Juntae can even wrinkle his nose in disgust, he gets up and opens the window. He leans next to it and lights the cigarette.

“I don’t.”

“But you are still a student. How can you afford it?”

“Union paid well.” He shrugs. “And before I gave sad eyes the burner, I took some money when I had a chance. Fake job here, fake bribe there. I don’t have to worry about money for a long time.”

“Oh.”

Juntae is kind of glad. Seongje doesn’t have to worry about the money, so he doesn’t have to look for a way to get it. It doesn’t make the area less dangerous. Juntae is sure he will look for a fight either way, but it’s safer.

Juntae thinks that people like him, the weak ones, aren't someone Seongje is looking for. Based on their earlier conversation, Juntae thinks he prefers a challenge. Someone he can win against instead of someone who will end up on the ground before the real fight starts.

Seongje is an unhinged madman, but Juntae thinks it’s not in the way he thought before. Maybe Seongje has a line he won’t cross. Just as Sieun once upon a time.

“Aren’t you lonely?” Juntae freezes. He didn’t think the question through; it just came out of his mouth, and he regrets it immediately. Did he really ask Seongje that? Seongje, who flicks his cigarette out of the window and comes closer, stopping right in front of Juntae.

He pushes his hands inside his pockets and grins. It makes Juntae shiver. It’s the same smile he saw on Seongje's face every time he was in a fight. He swallows the lump in his throat.

“Why? Are you going to fill in that loneliness, if I am, hym?”

Seongje’s voice drips in sarcasm, it’s sweet and sticky, and it makes Juntae feel more uneasy than anything else Seongje did. Because the danger behind those words is not the danger he’s used to.

Juntae doesn’t say anything, and Seongje doesn’t add anything else. But he can’t look away from Seongje’s face.

That moment stretches. Juntae feels out of his mind. All those thoughts swarming in, and he can’t tell up from down, he can’t tell what he should feel and what he wants to do.

Loud ringing breaks the moment. Seongje nods with his chin towards Juntae’s pocket, so he takes his phone out. After glancing at Seongje for a second, he answers.

“Hyeontak.” Juntae doesn’t recognise his voice. He sounds like he smoked a dozen of Seongje’s cigarettes. Like he screamed on top of his lungs for hours.

He glances at Seongje again, and his grin is even bigger now. The wound on his bottom lip reopened, and he licks the blood with the tip of his tongue. Juntae quickly looks away.

“No, no. I just… I had a nap. You woke me up.” He listens for a moment.” Sure, I will be there in twenty!” They say their goodbyes, hang up, and he quickly puts his phone back in his pocket.

He doesn’t want Seongje to reach for it.

“I have to go.” He says quietly. Will Seongje even let him go? “My friends are waiting for me.”

Seongje cooks his head to the side. “Go on, then.” But he doesn’t move. He’s still standing in front of Juntae, his legs just centimeters from Juntae’s knees. He doesn’t know what to do.

He needs to press his body against Seongje’s if he wants to get up. Is that a trap? Will Seongje force him back down when he touches him?

He did let him clean all the wounds, but after that, they didn’t touch. Not even when Seongje passed him the coffee cup.

Finally, finally, Seongje takes a step back, and Juntae uses it to get up and move closer to the doors. He doesn’t want to be cornered.

“Thank you for the coffee.” He says. He’s not sure if he should bow. Seongje is older than him by a few months, but still. But he hasn't done it before. It’s just the atmosphere of this all that makes him nervous. Makes him conscious of every move.

In the end, he just turns to leave without another word.

Seongje’s hand closes around his wrist before he can take a full step. Juntae can feel his heart beating in his ears. It’s loud and fast, he’s surprised Seongje can’t hear it too.

“I’m looking forward to your next care.” His smile is honey sweet and full of danger. “So don’t run too far, Juntae-ah.”

Juntae runs the entire way to the basketball court, and even after the game starts, he can still feel the warmth of Seongje’s hand on his wrist. His thumb pressed into his pulse point.

He doesn’t know what that means.

Chapter Text

The past two weeks have been the weirdest time in Juntae’s life. It’s spiraling out of control faster than Juntae thought was possible. It’s like he takes the wrong turn every time he’s standing at the crossroads.

Ever since the first time he found Seongje covered in blood, they had texted some, if you can really call it texting.

It’s mostly Seongje sending him pictures of his knuckles, broken and bloody, and Juntae asking where he is. And every single time he ends up back in Seongje's apartment, applying another bandage on his hands.

The biggest problem was that Juntae doesn’t even mind anymore. Instead, he's looking forward to it. He started to carry a small pouch of first aid items, anything that would help Seongje. Even though after he finished the box of wipes, the next time he was at Seongje’s, it was full again.

Sure, this whole thing was extremely weird. Sure, Seongje was still a madman and a violent machine, and sure, he was still making Juntae feel weird all over when he sent him a wolfish smile. But Juntae started to enjoy those parts too. He asks and listens to the details of the latest fight, taking some sort of sick pleasure in knowing how powerful Seongje is and how easily he can move him around while taking care of him.

It makes him feel powerful, too.

They text a bit after those times, too. Seongje always asks if he got home safe. The few times Juntae didn’t answer right away, Seongje always called.

‘Did you let another wolf take a bite on your way home, Juntae-ah?’ He’d always ask, with a low voice, threaded with danger.

And Juntae would always answer with ‘No, I wouldn’t let any other wolf do that.’

Juntae doesn’t know what’s wrong with him.

He keeps it all from his friends, making more and more excuses why he can’t go to the basketball court with them, and why he’s cancelling plans while already being on his way to Baku’s dad's restaurant.

He’s not sure what he would even say. I patch Seongje up every time he fights, because I don’t like to see him hurt, or every time he smiles at me, I lose my mind a little, or even I like spending time with Seongje, regardless of how awkward it is sometimes.

It makes him sound like he’s insane. Like he belongs in a padded room. Baku would perform an exorcism on him, and then he would go and kill Seongje.

It scares him. He doesn’t want his friends to get hurt, because Seongje isn’t someone who will lie there and take it; he will fight brutally and dirty, and he will smile the entire time.

But he also doesn’t want Seongje to get hurt. He doesn’t want to have to choose between tending to his friends and tending to Seongje.

So when his phone vibrates with a new message in the middle of their after-school outing, Juntae excuses himself quickly, abandoning his barely touched noodles, and hides in the toilet before he opens the message.

His breath catches in his throat.

It’s Seongje, because of course it is. But this time it’s not a picture of his hands, it’s a picture of his face. His cheek is bleeding from what seems to be an actual cut, his lip is split open, and it looks like Seongje licked the blood off just before taking the photo.

Usually in the background of the pictures, Juntae can see the now familiar couch. Seongje being home already, waiting for him without even bothering to wipe the blood off. He always waits for Juntae to do it.

In this picture, Seongje is still in the classroom. There are people lying on the ground behind him, frozen in pain. They are all covered in blood, too, but much worse than Seongje.

Juntae checks the time.

To: Seongje
Are you still at school?

The message is read as soon as Juntae sends it. Seongje had to have their chat already open, waiting for him. He feels his fingers start to shake a bit.

From Seongje:
Just about to leave.

From Seongje:
Don’t worry. I will be home before you get there.

Juntae swallows a lump in his throat, reading the message. Seongje makes it sound like they share that space. Together. Like Juntae has as much right to be there as Seongje.

Which is not the case, Juntae reminds himself. He doesn’t belong there.

To: Seongje
Stay there, I’m close by.

Seongje reads the message immediately, just as before, but no reply comes. Juntae waits, biting his lip. Is Seongje unhappy with him? Did he want to meet at his flat, just as any other time? Did he want to hide Juntae so no one would see him?

So no one sees them together?

Before he can fall down the spiral, his phone vibrates again.

From: Seongje
Okay, bunny. Since you are so insistent.

Only then did Juntae realise he didn’t really ask, but demanded. He got so comfortable with Seongje that at some point, he lost the fearful politeness that accompanied him at the beginning.

He closes his phone and goes back to the table, a new excuse already at the tip of his tongue.

“I’m sorry, my mum texted. She needs help at home. I will join you another time!”

He doesn’t look at anyone while he says it; he doesn’t want to see their disappointment. He just grabs his bag and puts some money on the table to cover his meal.

In his haste, he hasn’t realised that Sieun followed him outside, stopping him with a strong hold on his arm. Juntae turns, with what he hopes is a casual expression on his face.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Juntae can’t read his tone. Sieun has changed a lot since the time they met. He’s happier now, more generous with his smiles, and even the tone of his voice seems lighter. But sometimes, he sounds just as before. Closed off and monotone. Juntae learned to recognise those times as Sieun being calculative, when he breaks the situation apart to discover what lies in between each word.

“I’m fine, Sieun-ah. I promise.” He sends him a smile because he’s grateful for having such amazing friends who care about him. “I would tell you if something was wrong, I promise.”

Sieun lets him go with a tiny nod. He doesn’t look convinced, but he isn’t one to pry. “We are here for your Juntae, whatever it is, and anytime it is. I hope you remember that.”

Juntae feels tears flooding his eyes. “I remember. Thank you.”

He watches Sieun go back inside and then sprints down the road.

Kanghak is not very far from the restaurant they settled on. So before Juntae can even collect his thoughts, he’s already standing by the entrance. He sends Seongje a quick message, letting him know he’s here, and then he allows himself a moment to calm down his heart.

Not even a minute later, a shadow looms over him. Juntae looks up, and a smile dies on his lips. Because it’s not Seongje who's standing in front of him. It’s a group of Kanghak students Juntae doesn’t recognise, but by their faces, he can tell they don't have any good intentions.

“Look at that.” The front one laughs. “Did Eunjang come here for some late afternoon beating?”

“Look at him!” The other one joins, grabbing the collar of Juntae’s uniform. Juntae tries to shake his hand off, but his grip is too strong. Seongje is still nowhere to be seen, and Juntae rapidly starts to regret coming here.

Union doesn’t exist anymore, but the school fights never truly ended. Seongje's presence made him forget that.

“Let’s go somewhere quiet, Eunjang. I need some cigarettes. Let’s see how much money you have on you, hym?”

Before Juntae has a chance to respond, the hand holding him disappears, and the guy's head smashes into a wall until the guy stops resisting.

Seongje’s eyes glint behind his glasses, and his lips stretch in an overly large smile. His face is still covered in blood.

He looks like a demon of vengeance.

Everyone takes a step back.

“Watch what you put your hands on, fuckers.” Seongje kicks the nearest bully in the stomach without warning, and he falls to the ground with a loud groan. “Or I will break them.”

He looks terrifying. But when he looks at Juntae, his heart stops for a different reason.

“Or should I do it anyway?” He grabs the third guy's hand, and he whimpers in fear. “It’s up to you, bunny.”

“L–look. I had nothing to do with it, Seongje! I was just standing here.” He bubbles on, a constant stream of excuses, pleas, and begging.

But Seongje is not even looking at him. He’s looking at Juntae, unrushed. Juntae doesn’t want to break eye contact, but it doesn't seem Seongje will be satisfied until he makes a decision.

“Let’s just go,” Juntae says quietly. He doesn’t care about any of those guys. There is no reason to continue this.

Seongje nods and lets go of the guy’s hand. He immediately collapses. “Be careful, next time I will not be that generous.” He looks away from Juntae, between the conscious bullies. “Don’t touch what's mine.”

Seongje lightly pushes Juntae forward with a hand on his back, and between one blink and another, the school is already far behind them. He looks up at Seongje, who just raises his eyebrows at him and smirks. Juntae can feel blush spreading on his cheeks so he quickly looks away.

“Are you okay?” He asks quietly. Seongje’s still hurt after all.

“I think I should be the one asking that.” Juntae hears a quiet click and a flame coming to life as Seongje lights a cigarette. Soon, a sweet smell of chocolate surrounds them. “Should I have broken his hand after all?”

Juntae shakes his head. “There is no need. They haven't done anything. They didn't even touch me. Just my shirt!” Juntae quickly corrects when Seongje sends him a sharp look. “You’ve come and saved me before anything happened.”

Juntae learned that there is a specific way he sometimes needs to talk to Seongje. His desire for violence is unstoppable, but it can be tamed with some sweet words if the situation is right. And today it is. So he smiles at Seongje and brushes his shoulder on his forearm.

“I wasn’t even worried.” He assures him. Seongje looks down at him for a long moment before he laughs, and suddenly everything is back to normal; the tension disappears.

They walking towards Seongje’s flat without a rush, and Juntae let himself enjoy it. “How did the fight go?”

Seongje grins at him. “Some fuckers from another class decided they want to take the place of a top dog from the fridge.” Juntae had heard of him before. He knows the only reason he was a self-appointed boss of the school was because of his size. He’s big, but weak. “A bunch of guys jumped me when I was going for a smoke. One of them had some sort of metal pipe. It cut me when I wasn’t paying attention.” He points at his cheek. “I don’t think the guy will be able to hold a pencil for quite some time.”

Juntae should be scared of listening to it. How many times was he on the other side of Seongje’s or any other guy’s wrath? More than he can count. His full first year, he spent terrified of his every step, and hurt in more ways than he wants to remember.

But the recurring theme in all those stories is that Seongje didn’t start those fights. He wasn’t avoiding them, sure, but he wasn’t specifically looking for them either. And none of the guys he fought were someone like Juntae. None of those guys was a pushover.

Seongje is like karma personified for all those who used to pick on vulnerable Eunjang and Kanghak students. Juntae knows Seongje wouldn’t agree, so Juntae never says it out loud.

Seongje flicks his finished cigarette away and pushes his hands into his pockets. He opens his mouth to say something, but Juntae’s stomach chooses this time to remind him of the unfinished dinner.

He blushes up to his ears with mortification, but Seongje doesn’t laugh as he expected him to. When Juntae glances at him, his face is serious.

“You texted while we were eating. I didn’t get to finish.”

Seongje frowns, and then suddenly he pulls Juntae into one of the narrow alleys, and then another. He quickly loses track of where they are, and he doesn’t get to ask, trying to keep up with Seongje’s long steps.

The alleys spit them out on a street Juntae has never seen before. It’s tucked between two large buildings rather far from the main road. Everything looks just slightly run down, like it’s been here for too long, but the air makes Juntae salivate.

Seongje leads him through one of the doors, into a small barbecue restaurant. Juntae feels so confused that he’s not able to utter anything as they are being seated in a far corner, and Seongje has placed an extensive order. He just keeps staring.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Seongje finally asks.

“Are you… Do you– I…” Juntae gestures at the table and the slowly heating grill. “What?”

“You missed dinner because of me.” He’s not even looking at Juntae. He’s already placing the meat on the grill, not letting Juntae even attempt to reach for it when it arrived. “It would be rude not to feed you.”

Juntae finds his voice again when Seongje places the first perfectly grilled piece of meat in front of him.

“Thank you.”

Chapter Text

Juntae leaves the restaurant overly full and sleepy.

Seongje kept feeding him meat until he had to threaten him with sickness to make him stop. He also sneaked a bottle of soju, even though they are both high school students and Juntae doesn’t look nearly old enough to even be near alcohol.

They are walking towards Juntae’s home, somehow an unspoken agreement that Seongje will walk with him. Juntae’s sure he knows where he lives anyway, so there is no reason to protest. It’s long after dark, and having him close makes Juntae feel safer.

He keeps rubbing his eyes to get rid of the sleepiness, and Seongje keeps sending him amused looks. He lit another cigarette as soon as they left the restaurant, and the chocolate smoke sticks to Juntae’s tongue like a dessert.

There is silence between them, but it’s comfortable and warm, and all Juntae wants to do is to go to sleep with a memory of this feeling as fresh as possible.

He’s so lost in thoughts that he wouldn’t realise they are already at the entrance of his apartment building if not for Seongje's hand low on his neck, thumb pressed to his pulse point.

Juntae blinks a few times to clear his head a little.

“Oh.”

Seongje presses his fingers with a little more force into his skin, and Juntae sighs. He couldn’t stop that sound escaping even if he tried.

Seongje grins, wide and dangerous. He pushes Juntae’s head up with his thumb, and between one breath and the other, they face each other again.

Juntae holds his breath waiting, but all Seongje does is stare at his face.

“Oh, bunny.” He purrs, and Juntae needs to swallow another sound. His head swirls, and Seongje’s hand on his neck is the only thing that’s keeping him standing. “You have no idea how dangerous game you are playing.”

He’s right. Juntae doesn’t know. But he wants to play anyway. He’s about to say it, but Seongje takes a step back, releasing him slowly, so he doesn’t fall.

“Go.” He nods towards the entrance.

Juntae hesitates. He doesn’t want to go. He wants to stay. To invite Seongje up just so he can spend more time with him. But he doesn’t know how to say it. His tongue is tied, and his head is swirling, and in the end, he doesn’t say anything.

He nods and fumbles with his keys before he finds the correct one. The staircase behind the main doors is dark, with the lights broken for way too long to not be used to it.

He looks at Seongje for the last time before the doors close, and starts to climb up. It takes him longer than it usually would to climb to the fifth floor. Everything is spinning despite the fact that he didn’t drink that much. He has to focus on every step, not to miss any and fall down.

When he finally reaches the correct floor, he leans on the outside barricade for a moment to catch his breath. He looks down, but he can’t see Senogje anymore.

He doesn't know what he was expecting. For Seongje to wait outside the main doors for a chance, Juntae looks down? Juntae scoffs at himself. At how stupid he sounds.

“Waiting for someone?”

The voice doesn’t register at first. But then Juntae hears steps coming from the end of the corridor, from outside his flat doors, and he flinches, his head snapping in that direction.

The guy who got his head smashed on the wall by Soengje walks towards Juntae with hands in his pockets and a confident smirk on his face. There is a bandage around his forehead and cheek, and he looks silly. Juntae can’t stop a giggle escaping him, even though he knows it’s the least thing he should do.

“Do you think it’s funny?”

There are four more guys standing behind, leaning on Juntae’s doors. They all look happy to see him. Juntae isn’t happy to see them.

“You think you are someone being Seongje’s bitch, do you?” He sneers. “But he will be happy with any Eunjang loser. And your school has plenty of them.” He gets closer with every word, and Juntae is confused for a second before he realises he’s walking again. “So we are going to have some fun with you until you beg us to stop. Tomorrow we will get Seongje a new pushover, and he will forget about you. It would be like you never existed.”

Juntae feels tears in his eyes. He doesn’t want to be forgotten by Seongje. He doesn't want anyone else to tend to him after a fight. He doesn’t want someone else to be treated to a nice meal by him.

Is it wrong that he wants to be the only one?

He realises he made a mistake when a hand closes around his hair and pushes him backward. Juntae stumbles and falls to the ground at the edge of the staircase. He can feel bile rising in his throat.

He’s going to die.

He hears laughing from above him, and then a kick to his head. His glasses fell somewhere with a crashing sound of a broken lens. There are more laughs, and another kick to his head, and then his stomach.

The tears flooding his eyes are now freely falling down his cheeks.

“Fucking crybaby.” Something falls next to him and shatters. Juntae flinches away to cover his eyes from the glass. “Should we gouge them out? Give you a real reason to cry?”

The steps move away, and Juntae glances up. The main bully is walking towards his friends, who are holding… Juntae gulps. Even without his glasses, Juntae knows that's a knife.

He scrambles to his feet and runs down the stairs as quickly as he can, while trying to take his phone out from his pocket.

He lacks coordination, the floor is still spinning, and tears are still running down his face. He can hear screaming and footsteps not too far behind him. Something crashes into his side, and a pain that blooms there makes him lose his footing.

He greets his teeth and keeps running.

He finally, finally, he unlocks his phone with his shaky hand and calls the only number he can think of.

“Bunny, do you miss–”

“Seongje.” Juntae cries out before one of the men crashes onto him, sending him to the floor. Juntae tries to crawl towards his phone he lost when he fell, but a heavy boot pressed on his spine, pinning him in place. There is another kick to his head. He cries in pain, everything blurring around the edges a bit. “P–Please!”

He doesn’t hear anything on the other side, he’s not even sure the call is still connected.

Would Seongje even come to save him? He did earlier, but it was outside his school. It might have been an act to save face.

But he treated him to a meal after. He paid. He smiled at Juntae and held his face.

He looked like he didn’t want to let go.

Juntae doesn’t realise he’s sobbing. Or that the foot disappeared, and no more punches are coming. He doesn’t hear the commotion around. The swearing.

When a hand touches his shoulder, he flinches away, crying out in fear. He doesn’t want to die. He doesn’t want to hurt. He doesn’t want to be forgotten.

There are hands around him now, ones he recognises but his clouded mind can’t place. He leans his forehead on something warm and lets the smell of chocolate quiet down his panic.

He doesn't open his eyes yet. He’s scared that if he does, everything will disappear and he will be back on that floor with more punches coming his way.

“Juntae.” A soft voice calls out, but it only makes Juntae cry louder. “Bunny, come on. I need your code. You need to focus. Just for a moment.”

Juntae presses his forehead into a shoulder and tries to even out his breathing enough to answer. “M–My… Bir–birthday.” He chokes on the words he’s not sure he said loud enough to be heard. But the hands under him shift, and after a few bips, he can hear the doors opening.

He’s being lowered down on something soft, and the hands disappear, taking the warmth and comfort with them.

He sobs, curling into a ball. His whole body screams in protest with pain so strong that Juntae is sure he passes out for a moment. Then he turns towards what he guesses his the edge of his bed, and vomits.

“Fuck.” The hands are back, and with them, something warm and wet that touches his face. “Fuck, Juntae. I don’t– I don’t know what to do.”

The wet towel cleans his forehead, cheeks, and finally his mouth. Fingers softly move his hair out of his forehead, petting him in comfort. They shake.

“I need you to breathe, okay?” The weight on the bed moves, and Juntae’s hand is pressed into something warm. He curls his fingers on the soft material of Seongje’s t-shirt, right on top of his heart. “I know it hurts, but you need to breathe. Just… Just follow my lead, okay?”

Juntae thinks he responded, but the next time Seongje speaks, he sounds desperate. “Bunny, please. You need to let me know if you can hear me. Just nod a little, okay? Nod if you can hear me.”

It takes Juntae a second or two, but he does nod, getting a shaky breath in return. He presses his hand firmer into Seongje's chest and tries to follow his breaths.

It’s not easy. His chest hurts, his head hurts. Everything hurts. Juntae still thinks he might be dying. But the hand playing slowly with his hair helps him soothe this feeling away.

It might have taken hours, he's not sure, but Juntae finally takes a deep, even breath. The entire time Seongje is there, kneeling next to the bed, petting his head in between cleaning his face from tears and snot. If Juntae had any energy left, he would be embarrassed. But he doesn’t, so he’s not.

He finally opens his eyes, and Seongje’s blurry face comes into view. Juntae sniffles.

“There you are, bunny.” He sighs in relief. “You did great. Can you move a bit?”

Juntae tries to shake his head, but the sudden flare of pain makes him whimper and close his eyes again.

“It’s okay. We will work around that. You should have… those things you used on me somewhere here, right? Is it in… where are those things kept? Closet? Desk? Do you keep them at school? In your backpack, is it–” Juntae squeezes Seongje’s hand, the one that holds his hand to Seongje’s chest, in confirmation. “Your backpack? You have them in your backpack?”

Juntae nods the tiniest bit, but it’s enough. Seongje watches him like a hawk anyway.

“I need to let go of you for a moment. But I will be right back, I promise.” A thumb caresses Juntae’s cheek so lightly he can barely feel it. “Bunny, you need to let me know if you hear me.”

“O–okay.” Juntae whispers. His throat hurts too. “Y–you w–ill be b–back.”

As soon as he finishes, the hands disappear again. Juntae tries to keep his breath deep and even, but he feels like crying again. He can already feel tears running down his face.

He feels pathetic. Is Seongje really coming back? Or did he just say he will to make Juntae let go? He doesn’t have a reason to stay. Juntae is no one to him. Eunjang weakling. Eunjang pushover. Seongje’s b–

“Bunny, why are you crying?” A pair of hands cradles Juntae’s face, thumbs wiping tears from his cheeks. Juntae sobs, grabbing Seongje’s wrists so he can’t move away. “D–don’t fo’get -e” He chokes out in between sobs. “P–please, Seongje.”

“You have nothing to worry about, bunny.” Seongje says, but he sounds confused, like he doesn’t know what Juntae is talking about. “I need you to be patient with me now. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never… I’ve never done this before.”

Now it’s time for Juntae to be confused, but he nods anyway. He’s just so tired.

The hands move away from his face, and Juntae panics before Seongje soothes him with sweet nothings whispered in a rushed desperation. Juntae’s eyes flutter half open as he watches Seongje take off his tie and unbutton his school shirt.

He maneuvers Juntae enough to take it off without causing too much pain, as well as the t-shirt he had under it, not once asking Juntae to move.

The t-shirt comes out red with blood.

He makes a noise at the back of his throat, and Seongje’s eyes snap to his face as his hands freeze mid-movement. Then they move towards the t-shirt he just threw behind him.

“It’s just a scratch bunny. Just a scratch.” He drops the contents of Juntae’s school bag first aid kit next to him on the bed, and stares at it for a long moment. “I’m gonna…” he picks something up, but it’s too blurry for Juntae to tell what. “I’m gonna clean it and then… and then disinfect it.”

Juntae laughs through the tears. Despite Juntae patching up his hands and face, Seongje still has no idea what needs to be done. Even beaten up, Juntae can’t stop wondering what he was looking at instead.

“I’m glad you find it funny,” Seongje says as he opens the disinfectant wipe. He clasps Juntae’s hand in his. “It’s going to hurt a bit. Try not to move, okay? Just squeeze my hand instead.”

Juntae nods again, and Seongje doesn’t waste any more time. He presses the wipe as delicately as he can, Juntae can tell, but it still hurts. Juntae squeezes Seongje’s hand so he doesn’t squirm.

Seongje murmurs the entire time, but Juntae isn’t sure if it’s to comfort Juntae or himself. It soothes him regardless.

“H–how did you even… The main doors…”

Seongje opens the familiar tube with antibiotic cream. It takes him some effort because he still hasn't let go of Juntae’s hand. “I jumped the first floor balcony.”

“You jumped?”

Seongje finishes patching Juntae up with a colorful bandage and pulls a new T-shirt over his head. “There was no other way in.” He removes Junate’s shoes and trousers before covering him with a duvet, up to his chin.

The pain got somewhat better, and now that he’s cleaned and warm, Juntae starts to feel sleepy again. He closes his eyes and listens to Seongje moving around his bedroom. He hears the bathroom sink running a few times and, with mortification, remembers being sick earlier.

He makes a noise, trying to sit down, but Seongje presses him back onto the bed, fixing the duvet.

“Don’t move, bunny. Everything is fine.”

“I’m sorry.” He whispers. He tries to open his eyes, but he’s too tired even for that.

“You have nothing to apologise for. I promise.” He combs Juntae’s hair with his fingers. “Try to sleep. You will feel better after.”

“Can you stay?” Juntae asks so quietly that he can barely hear himself.

“Your parents–”

“They are out of town. They won’t be back tonight.” Juntae squints at Seongje with a sigh. “Please.”

Seongje hesitates, but instead of leaving anyway, as Juntae expected, he rips off his bloodied jacket and lies down next to Juntae.

“Sleep.” Seongje orders, so Juntae closes his eyes again and sleeps.

Chapter Text

It’s been two days since Juntae was attacked, a day since Seongje left his apartment. Since Juntae kicked him out with pleading urgency and regret in his eyes. His phone was blowing up the entirety of the day, and Seongje suspected his time was running out quicker and quicker with each message. The guard dogs do live up to their name.

He expected one of the little avengers to confront him sooner rather than later, but he hadn’t expected it to happen at the entrance of Kanghak.

Sieun stands in the middle of the ‘gate’, two steps away from the invisible line of the school grounds. Seongje stops on the other side, lighting a cigarette. He blows the smoke in his face, and Sieun’s brows twitch.

He’s not alone. A new face is standing only slightly behind him. He looks even weaker than Sieun, but by the way he’s standing, Seongje can tell he knows how to fight.

“Sad eyes, what do I owe the displeasure?”

“Leave Juntae alone.”

Seongje can’t help but laugh. Sieun’s audacity is unending. “No.”

The guy shifts, like he’s ready to throw a punch, but Sieun shifts with him, keeping him behind.

“I don’t know what you are planning, but leave Juntae out of it. He doesn’t deserve to be taken advantage of.”

Seongje takes a slow drag of a cigarette, grinning. “I haven’t taken anything from him.”

Sieun reaches into his pocket, and Seongje watches his movements with curiosity. The last time he did that, Seongje got stabbed. It’s not the memory he likes to relive. But Seun only takes his phone out and passes it to Seongje. He takes it.

It’s a set of pictures of Juntae standing outside Kanghak. The first picture is of him only, holding onto his backpack straps and looking around on his tip toes with a small frown on his face. But the next few pictures show the sequence of the guys looming over Juntae and grabbing him by the collar. Seongje focuses on the changes on Juntae’s face, each of them frozen for Seongje to study.

Now that he’s seeing those pictures, he wants to go back and break their hands and legs. He still has a score to settle with the ones who followed Juntae home. He was too preoccupied with the bunny, and he let them go once they started to run.

He would thank Sieun for the reminder, but he doesn't think he will appreciate it.

“What does this have to do with me?”

“He hasn’t been himself for the past few weeks. He runs off in the middle of the school day, cuts our meetings short, or cancels them altogether.”

“So?”

“So, I know you’ve been making him run around on your every whim.”

This conversation is going nowhere, but Seongje isn’t sure how to speed it up without making sad eyes, either stab him or come back another day. Because that's the issue with Sieun. You always have to match his speed. It’s impossible to rush him.

“I haven’t made him do anything.”

“He got hurt.”

Seongje flicks his unfinished cigarette at Sieun’s face, but the guy catches it before it can reach the target. He throws it to the side and shakes his hand off from ash and pain.

“Yah, fucker. Watch your words.” He pushes his hands inside his pockets and takes a step closer. “It wasn’t me.”

Sieun doesn’t respond, he just stares at Seongje with an unreadable expression. Somehow it doesn’t make Seongje wanna smash his head. It surprises him so much that he loses some of his hostility. The is no itch under his skin. He hasn’t even realised when it disappeared.

“You don’t have to worry, though. The situation is going to be… straightened up soon.”

Sieun still doesn’t say anything, so Seongje reaches out for another cigarette. The school day is over, so the students are spilling out from the school, giving them a wide berth of space, squeezing their way out closer to the edges of the path. Like a cluster of fish making space for a shark.

“What do you want from Juntae?” Sieun’s shadow asks.

Seongje shrugs. “It’s not up to you to know.”

“It’s not what I meant when I said you can take one thing.” Seongje quite enjoys the anger in Sieun’s eyes. He laughs.

“I know. And it only makes it better.”

Sieun sends him another angry look, which Seongje expected; it’s easy to guess his weak spots.

“I’ve kept you off the records because you helped us. But I still have the evidence of your involvement in the Union. Give me one reason, one Seongje, and I will send you to prison and won’t look back.”

Seongje knows he’s serious. Sieun, this fucker, is more ruthless than half of the Union put together when it comes to his friends.

He shrugs, taking a puff of his smoke. It’s the only acknowledgment Sieun will get. He knows this, too, because with the last glare, he turns to leave, and his shadow follows.

“For what it’s worth.” He calls after them. “It’s good to see you awake.”

Sieun turns slightly with his body so tense he looks like he’s going to attack Seongje anyway. “Don’t cross the line.”

***

Juntae still feels sore, and every move reminds him of his past. But at the same time, every move reminds him of how Seongje cared for him after, clumsily and untrained, but with so much care, Juntae regrets he doesn’t remember it more clearly.

The first time his friends saw him after the attack, they panicked. They asked question after question at the same time. They press him to give them a name, ready to find whoever it was. And every time they asked, Juntae said he didn’t know, which wasn’t even a lie. He didn’t know who it was, he didn’t know their names. And he surely wasn’t planning to tell them about Seongje’s involvement. It wouldn’t end well for anyone.

Sieun was the only exception in the chaos. He sat between Baku and Suho, looking at Juntae with so much intensity that Juntae started to worry he could hear his thoughts.

It’s been four days since then, and everything has calmed down. The questions ended, Sieun stopped looking at him like he was going to break at any moment, and he got at least one ‘how are you feeling?’ message a day from Seongje.

They didn’t have a chance to meet since then; his friends insisted on walking him home every day, more often than not inviting themselves in for a dinner and a movie. Juntae was more than happy to have them over, but he missed Seongje more than he expected.

Everything is so quiet and peaceful that when Juntae hears a commotion outside the school grounds, he doesn’t think anything of it. He lets Baku throw an arm around his shoulders and Hyeontak tease him about something he said in class.

Neither of them is paying attention, so when Sieun blocks their way with his hand, it takes them a moment to figure out the reason.

There are five people in dark red uniforms kneeling on the ground with their hands above their heads. At least two of them have an arm in a cast, and Juntae can see crutches next to another one. Their faces are a kaleidoscope of colors, from sickening green to almost black.

None of them can look Juntae in the eye.

Seongje is leaning on the wall to the side, smoking a cigarette, in the same dark red uniform. When he notices Juntae, he sends him a grin. He gestures widely at the kneeling students.

“I brought you a gift.”

“What the fuck you think your doing.” Baku steps out, blocking Juntae and Hyeontak from Seongje's view, clenching his fists. Juntae knows Seongje isn’t happy about it even without seeing his face. He places a calming hand on Baku’s shoulder and steps from behind him.

“Seongje.” He doesn’t know what else to say. He recognises those students from outside his flat, and Kanghak. He doesn’t even have to ask who’s the one that punched him, and the one who stepped on his spine. The injuries reflect it well enough.

“They’ve been hiding in some hole, avoiding school. Made me work for it.” He kicks the closest one enough for him to lose his balance and hit his forehead on the ground. He rights himself quickly with a glance at Juntae that only lasts a second. His hands are raised above his head the entire time. “Fuckers.”

“You didn’t have to.” Juntae finally says. He can feel Baku and Hyeontak stare at him in shock, and it’s probably the only reason they haven’t started screaming.

He glances at Sieun, who looks between the students and Seongje with a frown, but he doesn’t look surprised.

Juntae can feel a hysterical giggle rising in his throat.

“Oh, but I did, Juntae-ah.” He flicks the cigarette away and puts his hands in his pockets, casual as ever. There is a crowd of students gathering around them, whispering to each other.

Hyeontak puts a hand on Juntae’s shoulder, breaking the bubble. “Juntae. What the fuck is happening here.”

“Yeah,” Baku adds. “Explain before I kill him.”

Juntae can feel heat rising to his cheeks. “Seongje…” He giggles hysterically, hiding behind his hands for a moment. “He brought me a gift.”

“Juntae, this is insane. It doesn’t make any sense.” Baku glances towards Seongje, who still looks at ease. “I don’t like this. He has to have an agenda. I’m going to beat it out of him.”

“Baku, please. I–I will explain everything, but not here. Please let’s just go somewhere private.”

Baku opens his mouth to argue, but Siuen shifts, bringing their attention to him. “This is not the place for this.”

“So, bunny. What do you want to do with your gift? Should I kill them for you?”

Juntae shakes his head immediately. “This is more than enough, Seongje-ya.”

Seongje leans his head back, like his considering Juntae’s words, but in the end, he nods, gesturing towards the guys with his chin. “Scram.” They jump to their feet as quickly as they can and run off. Even the one with a broken foot.

They stand there in silence, no one knows how to break, one Seongje looks like he enjoys. Juntae expects Baku to be the one who breaks it, but it’s Siuen’s calm voice that does it.

“Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

They end up in a secluded U-shaped booth in a cafe near their school. Seongje pays for his and Juntae’s drinks, and no one elses. He looks genuinely angry when Baku tries to add Juntae’s drink to his order.

Juntae also has a crème croissant with fresh strawberries in front of him, which he didn’t order.

Baku, Hyeontak, and Sieun, who are sitting across the table, are staring at it like it offended them personally. Well, Baku and Hyeontak does. Siuen’s brows are scrunched in a frown, but he looks more considering than anything else.

No one said anything since they sat down.

“What are we waiting for, exactly?” Seongje asks in between sips of his coffee. He’s leaning comfortably in his seat, with one arm thrown on the booth backrest, just above Juntae’s shoulders.

“Suho,” Baku says, switching to glare at Seongje’s arm. “So he can hold you down while Hyeontak and I beat you to pulp and Siuen turns you into a swuss cheese.”

“Swiss cheese.” Seongje corrects with a smirk that makes Juntae slide down slightly on his seat so he can hide.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Seongje shrugs in response. Thankfully, Suho chooses this moment to arrive, and the tension lessens. Right until Suho spots Seongje.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” He asks as he squeezes past Baku and Hyeontak to sit next to Sieun. He turns into a breathing shield between Sieun and anything that might hurt him.

“It seems that the little avenger squad didn’t like my gift for Juntae-ah.”

Baku glares. “Five students beaten into a pulp. That was your gift.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“What’s wro–” Baku combs through his hair in disbelief. “He’s asking what’s wrong with it!”

“You didn’t expect me to let them go after they attacked Juntae-ah.”

“Stop saying it!” Hyeontak slams his fist on the table. “Stop saying Juntae-ya like you’re close!”

Seongje grins his famous unhinged smile and Hyeontak starts to stand up. Junate throws his hands over the table in what he hopes is a calming gesture.

“No fighting! Please!” He sighs in relief when Hyeontak sits down again. “We’re here to…t-to talk it through like adults!”

“Fine!” Hyeontak huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Talk.”

It was Juntae’s plan to talk it through calmly, to explain, but now that he has a chance to do that, he doesn’t know where to start. He doesn’t know what to say.

The relationship he has with Seongje is not something he knows how to put into words. It still doesn’t really make sense to him. On one hand, Seongje looks at him with the type of smile, he knows he has as he beats some guys to a pulp, but on the other hand, he treats him to a delicious and expensive meal just because Juntae’s stomach growled once.

“How did this start?” Sieun throws Juntae a lifeline.

“I um… I’ve bumped into Seongje while leaving one of our late-night meetings.” He glances at Seongje to see if he wants to say anything, but he just looks around the table with a lazy smirk. “We um… Exchanged numbers?”

“Exchanged numbers?” Baku squicks out. “Why on earth would you do that?”

Seongje huffs and focuses on Siuen. “You haven’t told them?” He laughs. “Always the martyr, aren't you, sad eyes?”

“Sieun?” Baku asks.

Sieun squares his shoulders before responding. “When I went to pick up Union’s phone, Seongje decided that the original deal wasn’t enough. He wanted something else, but he wasn’t very specific about it. I didn’t have a choice, so I agreed. And then he disappeared. I thought it didn’t matter anymore because I thought he was dead, too.”

“And then I came back.” Seongje grins. He nudges Juntae’s drink, which is slowly melting away, closer to him, so Juntae takes a sip. The group watches him like they half expect him to pass out immediately after. “Sad eyes promised me one thing, whatever it was. I decided I want Juntae.”

He says it so casually, Junate thinks he imagined it at first. When he sees the shocked faces of his friends, he realizes Seongje actually said it. The blush burns under his cheeks.

“Juntae-ya is not someone you can just take! He’s not a thing!” Baku protests. Seongje rolls his eyes at him. He turns towards Junate.

“Did I snatch you from the street like a thing, or did you come to me by yourself, bunny?”

The truthful answer would be both. Seongje cornered Juntae that first time they met again. He did take his phone away to put his number in, and he did tell Juntae not to say anything to his friends.

But Juntae didn’t have to listen. He could have turned right back, called his friends, and they would follow Seongje back to his place and do all those things Baku threatened him with only a few minutes ago.

Juntae wanted Seongje to have his number. He wanted to see what would happen. Seongje was on his mind, one way or another, almost since the day he protected him at Daesung Motorcycles.

“Seongje is not that bad.” He finally murmurs, not looking at anyone.

“Not that bad?” Seongje asks with a laugh.

Juntae glances at him, and then at his friends who watch them in silence. “We’re friends.”

“You’re friends? Friends!” Baku gestures between Juntae and Seongje. “It’s Seongje! He’s the devil reincarnated! He doesn’t know how to have friends! He doesn’t even know what that means!”

“Yah! Fucker, that’s a bi–” Junate presses his hand to Seongje’s chest silencing him.

“He really didn't do anything bad! I saw him the next day by accident, after his fight. He was covered in blood, so I helped him. You know I don’t like to see people hurt. And then it turned into a habit, I guess. We texted a bit, and he would let me know every time he got into a fight so I could patch him up. He didn’t even know what a disinfecting wipe was!” Juntae throws his hands in the air. He still can’t believe how clueless Seongje is in self care. “He would always make me a drink, and we would watch something after, or even talk. He never hurt me.”

Everyone listens to Junate in silence, with different levels of disbelief and shock on their faces. Juntae is glad they at least didn’t interrupt him.

“The day I got hurt… I left early so I could meet him at Kanghak before we went to his flat, after he got into another fight. I didn’t get to finish eating a–and my stomach was growling, so Seongje took me to a BBQ place. He walked me home, right up to the main doors, and when I called him after I got a–attacked, he jumped the first floor balcony so he could help me. He p–patched me up and stayed with me until I felt better.”

He goes quiet for a moment, suddenly shy. Seongje keeps looking at him with a completely new expression on his face. Half confused, half something Juntae can’t name.

“He really does treat me well.”

The table is silent after Juntae's monologue. Even Seongje doesn’t have anything to add. All Juntae can do now is wait for whatever verdict his friends will settle on.

He wants his friends to understand him. He wants them to understand that Seongje is not a threat to him.

It might not be the easiest thing to wrap their heads around, Junate knows. Especially right after the very visible example of his brutality, kneeling outside their school.

“Why?” Suho finally asks. His expression is gloomy in a way Juntae hasn’t seen before. “What do you get from it, Seongje? You don’t seem the type who would do anything without an agenda.”

Seongje shifts into a more comfortable position. His fingers press into the junction of Juntae’s neck and shoulder. He shudders.

“I get plenty out of it.”

“What exactly?” Suho presses.

“It’s none of your fucking business”

“Seongje-ya.” Juntae murmurs. “They are my friends. They just worried about me.”

“Fucking annoying, that’s what they are.” Seongje scoffs. “Fine, to make you feel better, because apparently it’s something I should give a shit about, I will answer three questions. Except that one.” He adds when Suho opens his mouth.

Hyeontak immediately presses his hand to Baku’s mouth, and Juntae laughs quietly. It’s a smart move. Who knows what he would ask, and Seongje won’t be generous enough to give them another chance.

“Did you plan for Juntae to be the debt from the start?” Sieun asks.

Seongje nods without hesitation. “Yes.”

Juntae doesn’t know how to feel about that. He didn’t have any expectation about Seongje’s answer; it could be anything, really, but hearing the confirmation only confuses him more.

Sieun isn’t happy with that answer, Junate can tell. Hyeontak takes his away from Baku’s mouth, and they all now stare at Sieun, leaving the questions to him.

“Is this something you’re planning to keep up for a long time?”

“Yes.”

Juntae feels himself smiling at that answer and he tries to cover it by taking a bite out the the croissant. It almost melts in his mouth, and he can’t stop an appreciative hum escaping him. Seongje sends him a self-assured smirk and steals one of the strawberries.

“Is Juntae going to get hurt by any of this?”

Seongje licks the cream from his fingertips and leans back once again. “Not if I can help it.”

Sieun looks somewhat satisfied with Seongje’s answers, not happy in any way, but it’s enough to loosen his shoulder just a fraction, and with that, everyone else loses some of their tension. They are still not happy, but it looks like they won't interfere too much. It's all Juntae could hope for.

Sieun turns towards Suho, who leans down at the same time and whispers something to him. Suho glances between Seongje and Juntae, before focusing on whatever Sieun is saying.

Juntae is in the middle of eating his croissant when Baku raises his hand.

“I have a question for Junate.” Everyone looks at him, even the whispering pair. “Did Seongje call you a bunny?”

Juntae groans, hiding behind his hands. “It’s not like that.” He murmurs, but at the same time, he’s not sure how it is himself.

The best explanation he has is that Seongje does whatever he wants, and Juntae enjoys it. Somehow, he doesn’t think Baku will appreciate that.

Chapter Text

Juntae expected some things to change after his friends confronted Seongje, but they barely did. Seongje still gets into fights, he still texts Juntae the evidence of it, and Juntae still meets him after to patch him up.

His friends are still unhappy that he spends time with Seongje, despite the fact that he assured them plenty of times that he wants to. Baku still sends him worried looks when he thinks Junate isn’t looking. But they’re not trying to stop him from going, not anymore.

More than anything, Juntae is happy he doesn’t have to lie to his friends. He feels like he’s allowed to smile at a text message from Seongje; some random update about what annoyed him that day, unexpected questions to Juntae, and finally, the post-fighting selfies.

Hyeontak fake-vomited after he glanced at the latter for the first time, but didn’t say anything, so Juntae considered it his blessing.

It’s one of the Fridays Sieun skipped cram school, so they are all squeezed into a corner table at Baku’s dad's restaurant. Suho is here too, battling Baku over who can eat more chicken in one sitting. Juntae can tell it won’t end well, but no one tries to stop them. Baku wouldn’t listen, and everyone agrees that Suho needs the protein.

Junate’s phone vibrates with a new message, his screen lights up with a notification and Seongje’s name. It’s a picture. Before Juntae can even reach for his phone, two more notifications pop up above the first one.

Juntae wonders if he should open the messages under the table, so no one can see their content, but it’s a moot point. He knows Suho looks through them in secret every time they meet. Juntae did considered adding a password, but if it makes his friends better, he has nothing to hide.

After saving them in a secure folder, he deletes photos he doesn’t want them to see. It’s still after fight selfies, but Seongje gets hurt in more places than his hands and face. He doesn't want them to misunderstand.

“It’s the third time this week.” Hyuntak rolls his eyes. “It’s like his getting hit on purpose.”

“That’s not true.”

“No, no. Think about it.” He abandons his half-eaten chicken and leans on the table. “Like, we all know he’s good at fighting, right?” Junate nods. “He fought those five guys that attacked you and didn’t even have a scratch.”

“They weren't really strong…”

“I fucking hate the guy, and I still think he should be swallowed by the worst depths of hell, but not many people can actually face him. And now he’s getting hit in some school fights three times a week?”

“Hyuntak’s right.” Sieun adds. Juntae suspects it’s mostly so he can take a break from eating food that Suho keeps putting on his plate. “It’s weird.”

“It’s not weird, you guys are overreacting.”

“We’re really not,” Baku adds. Since his mouth is full, Juntae pretends he didn’t hear him.

“Open the messages, then.” Hyuntak challenges.

“You sure you want to do that?” Suho grins. “We’re eating.”

Juntae hesitates. He doesn’t believe his friends are right. He did spend time with Seongje without him being hurt, so it wouldn’t make sense for him to do any of that.

On the other hand, Sseonje is not rational by their standards. He follows logic known only to him, and without asking straight up, Juntae is at a loss when it comes to it.

His friends are looking at him expectantly, waiting, and Juntae could refuse, but it would be some sort of admission to guilt he’s not sure he even carries.

He presses the notifications.

The first picture was taken while still in class. Seongje is half lying on his arm, on the desk, grinning. He’s turned slightly so the camera catches four guys standing behind him. It’s clearly taken before the fight broke out, and the guys seem to be unaware that Seongje even took it. There is a message under it.

‘If they want to surprise me, they should shut the fuck up. Loud fuckers woke me up.’

Juntae must have stared at the picture for a bit too long because Hyuntak nudges him with his elbow to move it along. Somehow, when Juntae wasn’t paying attention, they all leaned in to have a better view of his screen. Even Sieun, sitting across him, who is usually uninterested in things like this.

Juntae clears his throat and moves to the second picture. It’s the same guys, but now they are kneeling in front of the classroom board. ‘Useless motherfuckers’ is written above thier heads, not in Seongje’s handwriting, and they all give a piece sign. There is no note under that picture. It’s rather self-explanatory.

The last picture was taken much later. The room is dimmed with neon lights in the background. Seongje is leaning on his open hand, the monitor light in front of him bright enough to showcase the broken knuckles. He’s grinning, wide and dangerous.

Juntae slams his phone screen down before his friends can see the message under it.

‘Find me when you’re ready, bunny.’

It’s nothing Seongje didn’t say before, but for some reason, combined with the picture, it made Juntae feel way too hot he had any reason to.

It’s just how Seongje is, how he always was with Juntae. Even at the Daesung Bikes. It doesn’t mean anything to Seongje, despite how it makes Juntae feel.

He doesn’t want his friends to misunderstand and attempt to talk to him about it. He doesn’t need to hear their objections, their ‘you will only get hurt’. Or even worse, Sieun’s ‘Do you know what you’re doing?’ because the truth is, Juntae doesn’t. He’s just not thinking about it.

“See.” He says into the silence. “You were overreacting. It’s just his hands. That’s normal.”

Hyuntak is looking at Juntae with his eyebrows disappearing under his hair. Baku’s expression is one of greater surprise, and even Sieun broke his natural expression in exchange for confused surprise. Suho is grinning at his chicken.

“Nevermind!” Juntae says before anyone can comment. “Let’s just… Let’s just move on.”

No one looks like they want to move on, but after a tense moment, Hyuntak picks up his chicken, and it’s as if the past few minutes didn’t happen. But Junate can’t stop thinking about it. About the last picture. How Seongje’s eyes shine behind his glasses, how his hair was a mess.

How grin is the type he used when there were only two of them, when Sonegje is playing a game Juntae doesn’t understand. When Seongje makes his skin burn with heat, only part of it reflecting on his face. Only part of it an embarrassment.

***

Seongje never considered himself a patient man. Never one to wait for people or things.

And he’s not.

But he’s on his fourth hour of a mind-numbing game he’s bearly paying attention to, waiting for Juntae to show up. Or to answer his messages.

He’s not happy about it, but showing up to their meeting to whisk Juntae away wouldn’t do him any favours. Especially from Juntae. He’s been yapping about this outing for the entire week, so happy to see his idiot friends, Seongje can’t risk his wrath if he shows up and ruins it for him.

He might disappear somewhere, and Seongje wouldn’t mind chasing him, like the bunny he is, but his guard dogs would be a hard obstacle to cross.

So he waits, smoking a cigarette after a cigarette in between rounds. He had to threaten two separate employees to fuck off before they left him alone.

He kind of expected Juntae to drop his friends and come to him after he sent him the messages, but he didn’t. Seongje will hold it against him just a little bit. Until Juntae is positively remorseful.

His patience is slowly running out. He wanted Juntae to come to him, make him beg for his attention, and only then take whatever he wanted. But it takes longer than he expected. He thought he had him the night he walked him home. The look on Juntae's face still haunts him at night. So open, with blooming blush on his cheeks. His lips were wet after running his tongue over them, unconsciously open in invitation Seongje was oh so tempted to take.

He doesn’t think he will be able to stop himself next time, his plans be dammed.

He finishes another round and immediately reaches for his cigarettes.

“You look right at home.”

Seongje leans back on his chair to glance at the intruder, releasing a puff of smoke in his direction. “And you are?”

“Someone who doesn’t like it.” The man sneers. He doesn’t look like a student, but no older than twenty-five. He has no business being in a gaming cafe. “Get the fuck out.”

Seongje takes another slow drag of his cigarette. How fucking annoying. “I’m waiting for someone.”

“You can wait somewhere else.”

“I don’t feel like it, though.” Seongje grins. He can tell the man hasn’t expected him to talk back. He seemed used to being the big dog in his little club, or whatever was standing a few steps behind him. Seongje is not impressed.

It’s always the loudest matherfuckers that are all bark and no bite. He saw enough of them in the Union. Apparently, this one doesn’t like to be ignored, too, because he takes a step closer and in one motion, he sweeps everything from Seongje’s station, including the monitor. It falls to the ground and crashes. The man leans down, placing one hand on the now-empty desk.
Soengje meets his eyes with an amused huff.

“I said, wait somewhere else.”

Seongje takes another drag of the cigarette, with a grin that should tell the man to back off, and puts it down on his hand. He jumps back, clenching his hand to his chest. His face, scrunched in pain, makes Seongje throw his head back in laughter.

“It’s easy to play a tough guy, it’s harder to be one. Right? Fuckers.”

Seongje gets up to switch to a different station, but he’s pulled back by the shoulder. It’s one of the other guys, finally brave enough to come closer. Seongje sighs.

“Let’s go outside, kid. Let your hyungs teach you a lesson.”

Seongje looks between each of them. “What time is it?”

“What?” The last one asks. Seongje rolls his eyes.

“The time.” When it doesn’t look like they will respond, he looks towards the closest staff member.

“A-Almost five.”

Seongje nods in thanks. “I will give you half an hour. And then you fuck off.”

The men laugh between each other, and the one who pulled Seongje before attempts to throw his arm around his shoulder. Seongje trips him before he can touch him.

He grabs another cigarette and follows them into an alley. The noise of the road disappears behind him. When they turn the corner, he can’t help but laugh. He reaches for another cigarette, lighting it without a rush.

The fridge is standing at the front of another group of men, all older than Seongje by a few years at least. He couldn’t win against Seongje by himself or with his school mini gang, so he went to cry to whoever they are. Seongje leans his head back and exhales the smoke. He hates people like that the most. They are such a waste of space.

“You really like wasting my time, don’t you?” He flicks the cigarette away. “What time is it now?”

“Why, hoping someone will come and save you?” One of the men laughs. Seongje is not paying enough attention to distinguish which one it was.

“As I said. I don’t have much time to entertain you. So move it along, will you? Otherwise, I’m leaving.”

“You still think you are something!” The fridge screams. “I have a surprise for you. You are not the top dog anymore, Seongje. Not since Baekjin died and the union collapsed! There are new people who run the streets! And I am one of them!”

“Is that right?” Soengje puts his hands in his jacket pockets and looks at the man. There are at least two of them that hold what looks like a pocket knife. It wouldn’t be a problem in a one-on-one fight, but in a larger group, it might be an issue.

Seongje knows he’s a good fighter, but he also knows he’s not invincible. That’s the difference between him and the losers begging to be part of the Union.

But he’s already standing here. He can’t back down now. He signs.

“How fucking annoying.” He mutters and kicks the nearest guy in the stomach, hands still in his pockets. The man collapses with a loud grunt and stays down.

Seongje can hear the pocket knives being opened and moves in the direction of the still-standing opponents. He wonders absentmindedly if Juntae is already on his way to the internet cafe. He promised he would leave before six, so he might be. He hopes he won’t start looking for him. It would be a shame if he got stabbed in a crossfire. Seongje would have to kill them all for that. Juntae wouldn’t appreciate that.

He jumps back when one of the men tries to land a punch, throwing one himself. He staggers but stays up. Seongje throws another two punches, one to the stomach and one to the face, before kicking him back. He finally goes down.

He doesn’t have time to celebrate, two more guys are already running over their friend, swinging. Seongje needs to drop down to avoid the knife. He tackles the guy to the ground. Before he can straighten properly, a knife is flying in his direction. He grabs the arm and breaks it, but not before the knife slashes through his jacket above the elbow. He can feel the cut there.

Seongje is not worried, not yet. But by the time he’s done with another wave of attackers, the first ones are already back on their feet. He can’t fight them forever, and he’s getting more punches and he would like.

He thinks there is another slash somewhere on his body, the second knife glistens with blood, but he can’t pinpoint the origin of it. The adrenaline floods his body in waves with every punch he throws, and he’s starting to have fun, despite the uneven chances he started with.

The original trio, from the internet cafe, faltered the first time they saw him grinning mid-fight. Not many things give Seongje this much pleasure. He can think of only one.

He’s about to throw another punch, and probably get another slash in return, when the whole alley suddenly fills with heavy smoke.

Everyone staggers, trying to look for a source, but the smoke is too thick. Seongje covers his mouth and nose with his elbow, trying to orient himself, when a hand closes around his, pulling him back.

He’s about to pull back when he sees the familiar eyes right in his face.

“Bunny.” He laughs. “Did you come to save me?”

Juntae glares at him and pulls on his hand again, trying to make him move. He’s not holding the fire extinguisher, but the smoke keeps getting worse.

They run.

Chapter Text

Seongje seems to be in a rough shape when they finally get back to his flat. He’s favouring his right side, and his hand twitches with aborted movement to cover his stomach. Juntae can see the slash on his jacket in the exact same spot.

They are both covered in white powder from the fire extinguisher and a layer of sweat from running all the way here.

“Go take a shower.” He pushes Seongje towards his bathroom. “You’re filthy. You need to get yourself cleaned up before I can even look at your wounds.”

“You go first.” Seongje makes an attempt to go towards the couch, and Juntae jumps in front of him, with his hands spread wide.

“No! You go first, then I will patch you up, and then I will clean myself up.”

Seongje considers him for a moment, then he grins. It makes his lips split open again. Juntae wants to kill him. “We can always shower together, bunny. So you could stop arguing with me.”

Juntae shakes his head, trying to ignore his comment. It’s not time for his games. “Either you listen to me and go, or I’m leaving.”

Seongje doesn’t look like he believes him, but Juntae is one hundred percent serious. It wasn’t another school fight. Junate saw the knives, he saw the blood, he saw the large group of men getting back up again, and again, and again. Soengje, whether he likes to admit it or not, could have died today.

Juntae was scared. He still is. Seeing Seongje surrounded by so many adults made him freeze in fear.

Seongje finally signs, heavy and tired. He pats Juntae softly on his cheek and moves towards the bathroom. His hand traces the expanse of Juntae’s throat before it disappears completely.

Juntae stays frozen in place until he hears the shower run. Only then does he move. He washes his face and his shaking hands in the kitchen sink, trying to get rid of as much ash from his skin as he can. His jacket is already lying near the entrance, where the damage couldn’t be spread. Seongje refused to take his off.

He stays in the kitchen until Seongje gets out of the bathroom, a cloud of steam following him. He’s dressed in loose sweatpants and a t-shirt at least a size too big. He’s not fooling Juntae, he can see the red skin right under the sleeve where the cut is.

“Your turn, bunny.” Ge grins like Juntae can’t see the stiff way he moves. “I left some clothes in there for you, but you don’t have to wear them if you prefer.”

Juntae walks past him without a word, slamming bathroom doors a bit too hard. He undresses quickly, jumping into the shower and turning the water on way too hot, hoping it will warm his fear-frozen body. He’s hands are still shaking.

He stays under the spray until the water starts to cool down, but he still feels like he needs more time before he can face Seongje again. Just a few more minutes to hide the fear threatening to spill from his eyes in tears.

He puts on the clothes Seongje left for him. Another comfortable t-shirt and sweatpants. He can tell Seongje tried to find something smaller, but it still swallows Juntae. The shirt reaches his thighs. He rolls the sweats legs, shrugs, and opens the door. It’s the most he can do.

“You took so long, bunny, I started to–” Seongje trails off when he sees Juntae. His eyes trail over Juntae's body in a slow movement. Juntae can feel himself blushing, so he quickly looks away. He grabs the always fully stocked first aid kit and sits on the couch next to Seongje. Leaving enough space to unpack everything between them. He doesn’t want to get too close.

His mind is still racing, too fast for him to catch and form a coherent thought, reach a proper conclusion. He doesn’t want to risk saying something he will regret, something that will ruin what he worked so hard to build.

Seongje extends his hands in his direction without a word, familiar with the procedure. Juntae works in silence, that’s tense once again. He feels like they are back to their first time when Juntae pretended he knew what he was doing. He cleans the wound for way longer than needed, not wanting to look up just yet. His eyes are filled with tears.

Seongje doesn't do anything to rush him. He doesn’t say anything either. It’s like he’s aware of the tension, the awkwardness between them for the first time since they re-met.

Juntae clears his throat and reaches to clean Seongje’s face. He watches Juntae the entire time with a slight crease on his forehead Juntae can’t even begin to understand. He’s not sure he wants to.

He moves to the cut on Seongje’s arm with a slight pull on his sleeve. Seongje moves accordingly, letting Juntae move his body as he pleases. The cut is not as bad as Juntae worried. It doesn’t bleed anymore, but it’s angry red and uneven. It will leave a scar. He cleans it as carefully as he can and puts a bandage over it.

They stay frozen like that, with Soengje’s eyes still on Juntae’s face, and him not looking at anything particular, just to avoid looking at Seongje.

Juntae clears his throat. “Show me your side.”

“Why?”

“So I can patch it up, too.”

Seongje shakes his head and reaches for his cigarettes. Juntae can see how he fails to hide a grimace when his side stretches a bit too much.

“Seongje,” Juntae says once he lights it and takes a deep, slow drag. “Lean back and raise your t-shirt.” Seongje waves him off nonchalantly, but Juntae only shifts closer.

“Please.” He whispers, finally meeting his eyes, because he knows it will make Seongje break. “Please, Seongje, let me do it for you.”

It takes Soengje two more drugs of his cigarette to break.

He puts out the unfinished cigarette and leans back. He hesitates for a long moment, but he does raise his t-shirt to his mid chest. Juntae gasps.

Seongje tried to patch the wound himself, but it's loose and unpracticed. The thickest part of it is soaked in blood.

“Why would you hide it?” Juntae doesn’t even bother to unwrap it, he cuts it in the middle. “It’s the worst of them all.”

“It’s not the first cut I’ve got. There is no reason for you to worry. It will heal.” He leans his head back to rest it on the backrest. His breathing is slow and measured.

“I would worry regardless. I don’t like that you tried to lie to me.” He gets to work in quick movements, trying to be as careful as he can. Seongje still flinches when he presses disinfectant to the edge of the cut. “Did you do this before?

“Do what before?”

“Lie to me.” Juntae glances at his face. Soengje’s eyes are now closed.

“No.”

“So what happened today?”

Seongje sighs, unwilling to explain, but Juntae won’t back down. Not this time. “I guess fridge was unhappy I put him in his place a few times. I think he hired some thugs to get rid of me for good. It’s not like I expected it, Juntae-ah.”

“You won’t fight them again.”

Seongje huffs a laugh. “It’s not really up to me, is it?”

“We can deal with it in a different way. We will find the evidence of this attack and make sure they won’t have a chance to do it again. Sieun is good at research, he will help.”

“Why would sad eyes do that?”

“Because he’s my friend!” Juntae clenches his fists. “And you’re my friend too! And sure, they might fucking hate you but they will still help! Because you are–! Because–!” Juntae shakes his head. “Forget it.” He finishes bandaging Seongje’s side and almost jumps off the couch.

He moves towards the window, opening it slightly. He feels like he’s burning.

The world behind the glass is already dark, and Juntae is glad he can hide in the unlit room, the only light coming from a small lamp in the corner.

“That’s why I didn’t want you to know.” Seongje says after a few minutes of silence. “School fights are one thing, but being surrounded by some low-level street gang is the other. It’s not– it’s not something you should be a part of.”

“I already am! I was since the moment you approached me in that tunnel! Did you really though we won’t end up in this situation? That one day you will end up fighting someone stronger than your schoolmates?” Juntae waves his hands in anger. “Everyone knows who you are! Who you were! You came back out of nowhere, year after the union collapsed, after Baekjin died, and though no one will try to take you down, just for your past's sake?”

Just by Seongje’s face, Juntae can tell he didn’t. That it didn’t even cross his mind. Juntae suspects that thinking ahead was never something Seongje concerned himself with. He feels himself deflating. He looks away.

“When I saw you fighting in that alley, I got scared.” He says quietly. “I froze with fear, Soengje.”

He hears Soengje light another cigarette. When he glances at him, he still lies with his head on the couch backrest, visibly tired. The hand that’s not holding his cigarette is clenched into a fist.

“I panicked. Didn’t know what to do. I wanted to help you, but I just couldn’t move.”

Seongje moves his head to the side to look at him. “I never expected you to, Juntae-ah.”

“I thought I wasn’t scared anymore. I thought I had changed.” Juntae whispers.

Seongje takes a slow drag of his cigarette. It illuminates his face slightly, and Juntae can see how distant his eyes are.

“You haven’t.”

Juntae feels his heart crack. He knows he’s not as strong as Baku or Hyeontak, or as smart with his weapons as Sieun, but he’s not this fragile weak spot he used to be. He’s no longer a liability.

“In that garage, when you were willing to get beaten to death to help your friends.” Seongje continues without looking at him.” You were brave then, and you are brave now.” He glances at Juntae with something unreadable in his eyes. He takes another drag of his cigarette. “That’s why I think you haven't changed.”

Juntae doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn't say anything. He looks away even when Seongje doesn’t. He hadn’t expected to hear anything like this. He hadn’t expected to be seen. And definitely not by Seongje.

Seongje, who shows up with bloody hands just for Juntae to patch them up.

Seongje, who changed his cigarettes to ones Juntae doesn’t hate.

Seongje, who stayed with him when he panicked, and who made sure he was okay.

Seongje, who always protected him.

He walks up, takes Seongje’s half-smoked cigarette, and puts it out in the ashtray. He takes both of their glasses off, leaving them neatly folded at the edge of the table. Seongje lets him do it all, simply looking at him with his head up, eyes full of curiosity.

“Why did you choose me as the debt?”

“I wanted to see if I could break your loyalty to Baku and the others.” Seongje answers after a moment, and Juntae can appreciate his honesty.

“And now?”

“Now I want you to be mine.”

Juntae smiles at him softly, and then he leans down and kisses him.