Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was going to rain.

Hyuntak could tell, he could always tell a day or so before the clouds piled up and cluttered the sky in dull, lifeless shades. Or to be more precise, his knee would know before he had the chance to even think about it. Each time it started with the sensation of pins and pinpricks growing outward of the socket like a thorny onslaught, as if tiny vines were bursting out of the cracks of an old wall.

He moved away from the metal doors he was leaning onto and shook his leg, frowning, and his best friend standing beside him seemed to pick up on it.

“Gotak, my favourite weather app, do I have to bring an umbrella tomorrow?”

Park Humin, or otherwise nicknamed Baku, stood there with hands in his pockets and a big smile on his face. Hyeontak noticed the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Shut up.” He looked around, Sieun and Juntae nowhere to be seen when they had made a deal to meet outside the basketball clubroom. “You never bring an umbrella.”

“That is so not true.”

“You only ever brought one when-” Hyuntak froze, biting his tongue. He chided himself when he saw Humin’s gaze drift to the floor, and he scrambled to apologise. “I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no, it’s okay. I’m fine.” He waved his arms and smiled, corners of his eyes slightly wet as if he was already having trouble holding his emotions in. “No moping, no being sad, I will be back to my old self before you know it!”

His voice was loud and booming, and it made the approaching two who remained of their little friend group wince and smile in the distance. Sieun, who looked tired but not from lack of sleep, rather from spending every night catching up on the two years missed with Ahn Suho. And then there was Juntae, smiling with a skip in his step as they got closer.

“Hi, guys. Sorry we’re late, Sieun went to buy some snacks so I accompanied him.”

“Ah, Sieun-ah, are you spoiling your boyfriend while he’s in recovery?” Humin exclaimed, swinging one arm around the boy’s shoulders. “You will run out of money, or something.”

“It’s fine.” Sieun muttered as he refused to meet Humin’s intense gaze, but Hyuntak could tell the corners of his mouth were slightly raised up.

“Shall we, boys?” He walked over to Juntae and swung his arm around him so he wouldn’t feel left out, and they walked away and off the school grounds, basking in the ongoing serenity of their senior year.

Having stepped out into the sun, Hyuntak took a deep breath and immersed himself in the moment, ignoring the distant angry clouds littering the very edges of the sky he could make out, squinting and afraid they’ll creep up on him as if to ambush them and disrupt the peace they had.

He looked at his friends, the fading red dye visible in Humin’s hair now that they weren’t in the shade, yet to be washed out completely as summer came to an end. And the little red strand in Juntae’s which was the victim of a dye brawl which in turn made it seem like a bloodbath occurred in Humin’s bathroom. He had to fry chicken for a week as a punishment.

The school year only started four weeks ago, the heat still unrelenting and suffocating for some reason, and Hyuntak hated it. But he had more reasons to hate this time of year, and the date which was approaching.

The date that the upcoming Sunday will mark was one he always tried to suppress for the past couple years now. He would pretend it’s a different number and a completely different month marking his home screen, or the calendars on the classroom walls. 

Because that day marks the anniversary of his first death, the death of his taekwondo career, the death of his dreams, of the confidence he had to rebuild painfully and from scratch.

And now he couldn’t even bring up the name of the culprit without saddening his best friend, without ripping off the loose bandaid the taller boy wore on his heart. The mere name, Na Baekjin, would make Humin’s heart shatter into dozens of little pieces Hyuntak started to become tired of picking up. Not that it meant he would ever stop, no, that wasn’t an option.

If only it were anyone else, if only the person who ruined his life was someone his best friend didn’t carry with himself every day. Hyuntak was perfectly capable of mostly ignoring his trauma to in turn be of help, not even caring if it was about Baekjin. But for some reason this time of year made it difficult, and it created a veil of budding resentment which started to build up beneath his skin. He was tired, hurt, angry. He was frustrated. But not with Humin, not with Baekjin.

With himself.

One of the distant clouds shone brightly for a split second. Thunder.

It reminded him of how a pair of glasses looked when a speck of light scuttered across them and reflected it back onto his face.

Huh.

Another thing, another person he failed to suppress this time of year, too.

Geum Seongje.

“Motherfucker.” He muttered out loud, causing his friends to look at him with concerned looks on their faces.

“You okay?” It was Sieun who dared ask the question first, sensing the tension in his friend.

“Yeah, sorry, just something I had to do came to mind, that’s all.” He tried getting his shoulders to relax and he continued walking leisurely. However his brows were scrunched and he was involuntarily set back years into time, what felt like his mind forcing him to reminisce of the boy who always played outside, didn’t seem to have a curfew or more than one pair of shoes, regardless of the weather. The boy whose glasses weren’t good enough for his dioptry and who desperately needed new ones, or else his eyesight would worsen. 

It had worsened.

The boy Hyuntak bothered teaching all the taekwondo moves he learned day by day, practicing and kicking an old tattered gym bag they took from a dumpster when they were nine. The boy who, when they turned eleven, stole some candy as a gift for Hyuntak’s birthday, outrunning the store manager when he got caught.

“Tak-ah?” He was shaken out of his thoughts by Juntae’s soft voice. They had stopped walking, already in front of their favourite basketball court they often hung out at, the one by the river. “Really, if something is wrong we don’t have to hang, we can talk about it instead?”

Hyuntak felt the tips of his ears heat up, now most definitely red and burning. He was embarrassed for slipping up so easily and failing to keep his attention on his friends.

“Nah, Juntae-ssi, really I’m fine.” He stepped away and jumped a couple times, alternating legs to warm up quicker. “Let’s play some games.”

He snatched the ball out of Humin’s free hand faster than the boy could react, his other arm busy still embracing Sieun. He ran down to the court and shot a satisfying bank shot. That seemed to snap out the competitiveness in his best friend, who ran down and joined. They fought for the ball, dribbled and laughed as the sky dimmed. A slight breeze picked up, and it carried a slightly bitter scent their way. But Hyuntak was now having fun, and the familiar scent of Marlboro Reds seemed to go unnoticed in the air.

A couple days later on the predictably rainy Saturday, Humin insisted on a sleepover and movie night. Siuen reluctantly joined because he saved his weekends for studying as he was busy keeping Suho company on any other day, instead of going to cram school regularly. They all hoped Suho too could join them and hang out soon. 

Juntae was a little too eager to come, curious eyes stealing glances at Hyuntak each time the clock seemed to inch closer to midnight. He had an inkling that Humin spilled what tomorrow meant to him.

He bit his lip, tempted to just tell them it wasn’t that big of a deal, that he learned to cope with it and was going to be fine. But the truth was, he felt sick to his stomach the later it seemed to get, fearing he would spend the rest of the night bent over a toilet boil emptying the contents of his stomach. Perhaps he was sick because all he had to eat was imported gummy bears Juntae saved for special occasions, and buldak ramen. Not a great combination, he thought.

“Hey, are we going to watch that movie or not, Baku?”

“Gotak-ie, we will.” Humin scooted closer on the makeshift bed on the floor, thick winter covers and several blankets covering the parquet flooring. “Pick, action or romance?”

He snorted, barely amused. “Action, you moron.”

“Insulting my intelligence is getting old, man.”

“What intelligence?” He was about to throw another jab at Humin, but his opened mouth was met with a pillow projectile flying towards his face. He failed to catch it.

“I’m putting the movie on, scoot over everyone!”

The movie went on smoothly, the plot was interesting and the action scenes were entertaining. The plot twist was brilliant, too, albeit Hyuntak had guessed it would happen. Humin argued about it, and Sieun watched them with amusement as Juntae tried to understand both sides and play the diligent referee. Before long the four were huddled on the floor together, ditching the bed as if it didn’t even exist. The clock had struck midnight about an hour ago, and the only awake person stared at it, eyes fixed on the spot in the darkness he knew the infernal device was located. The incessant tick tock was driving him mad.

Hyuntak huffed, beads of cold sweat dotting his forehead. His ears were ringing, he swore he could hear his own screams echoing as Na Baekjin brought his foot down onto his knee for that final, debilitating time. He could swear in the corner of his room stood a familiar silhouette, tall height and broad shoulders, a cigarette cherry pick the only distinguishable trait within the darkness. He thought he could hear him laughing.

He couldn’t stand being inside the room for a second longer. He stood up, slowly and carefully so as not to wake anyone, especially Humin whose shoulder he was pretending to be asleep on. He felt guilty abandoning his friends who came to spend time with him when they knew he would feel like utter shit.

“Fuck.” 

Cursing under his breath, he tip-toed into the hallway to where his shoes were at. His mother was asleep for which he was glad. He wiggled into a pair of sneakers without undoing the laces and carefully unlocked the door. He didn’t have a plan in mind, clad in his sleep clothes consisting of gray shorts and a white tank top with phone in hand, because he wasn’t stupid not to bring it.

The air was a little too cold for the lack of clothes he was wearing, autumn beginning to finally fully take over. The ground was wet, but the skies were clear which was a weird sight to behold. 

Hyuntak expected the rain to last a little longer.

Perhaps it was a sign that this too shall pass soon. At least one of the people who wronged him was out of his life, as much as he hated when that thought occurred to him. He wasn’t glad Baekjin died, not at all because he wasn’t like that, but part of him was overjoyed it was a face he would never have to run into again. For the other person, he wasn’t sure.

The name hadn’t been uttered since that final fight, Sieun relaying what had happened at the bowling alley. Hyuntak’s blood boiled at the thought, for him to be so conniving and thrill chasing that he would try to stop Sieun from coming to help and finish the fight. Maybe he knew that it would lead to the Union’s undoing, and he wasn’t done having his fun with them.

“Fucking bastard.” He whispered out loud, voice getting lost in the night air. The cursing habit which was embedded in his bones and the core of who he was, was also something he picked up long ago. He liked to think it was how he would eventually be like on his own, though, regardless of outside influences. 

He walked and walked, thoughts spiraling out of control with every step he took. Words, yells, the smell of fire and smoke stuck in his lungs. The horrific realisation he would never be the same ever again, that it wasn't a terrible nightmare he could be awakened from. That he did didn't get betrayed like he meant nothing at all. 

He slid his phone out of his pocket and glanced at the time. 1:23AM. He walked for barely five minutes, yet it felt like much longer. He sighed and kept going in the direction of a convenience store he religiously went to for as long as he could remember. He had no money on him, but luckily his credit card was linked to his phone.

Hyuntak felt like shit. 

He pushed the doors open and walked inside, the air conditioning a grave difference to the stale air outside. His head ached as he made his way to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, feeling parched and tired. He debated on getting something to eat but went against it in the end, the quiet hum of the fridges lulling his numb mind into a weird mental state. He quickly paid, thanked the clerk and as he did so he felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck. Someone was watching him, he was sure of it.

He turned around, bottle in hand as he gazed outside the glass store windows. Nobody was there. However Hyuntak had faith in his instincts, he never downplayed them. Especially at this time of night. 

He reluctantly stepped outside, checking his surroundings and debating on texting Humin his location.

The air seemed to get colder and somehow sharper. He swallowed, unable to see or feel anything from any direction, but his gut was telling him to get the fuck out of there. But Hyuntak hesitated, and that was all it took.

It was then when he could smell it, tobacco, harsh and ripe as it mingled with the aura of petrichor and humidity.

“Look at who we have here.” A lazy drawl, voice full of amusement and something else, something sinister, came from his left. “Go Hyuntak.”

“You.” 

“Me.” A cloud of smoke appeared before the silhouette stepped through it, a little theatrically.

Geum Seongje, in the flesh, stood on the side of the road in the exact direction Hyuntak had to take to go home. Of course, the other boy knew that.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Hyuntak’s voice came out even and strong, but to his ears it sounded too small and too quiet. “This isn't your neighbourhood.”

Seongje smiled, like a feral animal that has come to toy with its prey. He pretended not to hear the second statement. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” He slid out an unopened pack from his pants pocket and waved it around. “I was buying cigarettes.” 

He then took a step closer, gauging the reaction it would bring. And when Hyuntak hesitated, undecided between standing his ground and taking a step back, he laughed.

“Tak-ah, are you nervous?”

His laughter irritated Hyuntak, in the dim lighting he could see the slightly taller boy smiling all the way, lips taut and Cheshire like with his gums exposed. He used to like seeing that smile.

Now it came to haunt him at night.

“What the fuck do you want, Seongje?”

He was tired, and he sounded tired. He didn’t move when the other took another step closer.

Seongje now came to stand under the lamplight, clad in a dark windbreaker and baggy shorts cut above his knees, unlike Hyuntak’s whose pantsleeves went over them. Precisely how he preferred it to be.

“I told you, did you forget already?”

Another step closer.

“Don’t tell me you forgot, I will be so offended.”

Another step. Another smile.

“Don’t come any closer, or I will fuck you up.” Hyuntak bit out through gritted teeth, blood boiling ravenously, coursing through his body as if rage was all he knew. 

“Hmm, okay.” he hummed, and took the resolute step. But before the threat which hung in the air could come to life, Seongje reacted faster. 

He grabbed Hyuntak’s shirt, the lack of fabric causing his tank top to bunch up higher and expose his lower midsection to the chilly air. Not quick enough to retaliate, Seongje had him pushed up roughly against the alley wall beside the convenience store.

The wind was knocked clean out of Hyuntak’s lungs, and his vision spun for a moment. The water bottle slipped out of his grip and rolled down the street. 

“Fucking asshole.” He cursed under his breath, his hands flying to Seongje’s jacket, fingers intertwining in the noisy fabric. 

They stared at one another, gazes unflinching and charged with a mixture of strong emotions. Most of it was anger and resentment, old and ugly as it reared its head and threatened to devour them both in the darkness of the alley. 

“I thought I made myself clear. I'm the only one who gets to play with you.” He stopped smiling now, eyes boring into Hyuntak’s face as if he was searching for something. “But you had to go and fight with my old friends, didn't you?”

“Get off me. You don't have any friends.” That made Seungje’s eyes narrow and Hyuntak shivered, a small sliver of fear coursed through him as the damp wall made his spine ache. He tried to push the older boy off him, who in turn let go of his thin shirt to place his hands on his shoulders instead, the gesture rough. His hands were warm and nicotine stained.

“I heard you were going to step in and fight Baekjin, too?” Seongje hissed, bringing his face close enough Hyuntak could smell cigarettes and something else, tangible and bitter, metallic. “Maybe I should have never tried to mess with the newbie, huh? If he didn't show up would you sacrifice your other knee?”

“Why did you even do it?!” The anger was back now as if it never left in the first place, fear becoming an afterthought. He ignored the knee comment. “Who gave you the fucking right to try and stop him from going?!”

Seongje laughed, full and melodic, an echo in the alley. 

“Are you jealous, Tak-ah?”

“You're insane.” He tried to push him again, this time with enough strength it made a difference, the other stepping back a notch. It was then when Hyuntak noticed the bloodied cut on his lip, and a bruise slowly forming on his jaw. 

He stared at them for a single moment, but that was enough to intrigue another set of annoying comments coming his way. 

“Didn't think I'd catch you staring at my lips ever again.” He smiled, bottom teeth slightly bloodied. “Do it again.”

“Fuck you.” 

And then Hyuntak swung. 

It was a quick blow, months if not years of frustration behind its power. Due to their close proximity Seongje didn't have time to dodge, but he chose not to block it either. It hit him square in the jaw, in that same spot the bruise began blossoming from. 

“Dirty move, Gotak.” The nickname Humin gave him was spat out like poison on his tongue. “I thought you played fair.”

“No such thing when dealing with you, fucker.”

“Finally you learn.”

That smile again, followed by a brief wind up in the boy's shoulder and with no time to react, Seongje’s fist was flying towards Hyuntak’s sternum. It connected without an ounce of mercy and he gasped, eyes blown wide as he tried to bend over from the pain, but those hands were back on him, steadying him and forcing him to keep standing straight. 

“Now, no falling down. We aren't finished.” He whispered, faces back to being only an inch apart. “Maybe I'll be nice and let you hit me again.”

“It's all fun and games with you, isn't it?” Hyuntak gritted out, face flushed while on the contrary his exposed arms became littered with goosebumps. “Was everything always a joke to you?”

“Hm?” A hum, followed by a snicker. “Is that what all this is about? You're actually upset.” He moved his head slightly back, eyes full of mockery and something akin to wonder alongside it. 

“What? Did you think my hate for you was fake?!” His voice rose by an octave, parched throat causing it to crack slightly by the end of the sentence. “I can't even stand to look at you, right now.”

“What a pretty liar you are, Tak-ah.”

“Shut the fuck up!” He screamed, tearing himself free before throwing a reckless kick Seongje’s way. 

The older boy twisted his body to the side, but it still landed on his hip and he hissed in pain, more so than he should have. Another injury, he thought. How interesting. 

“Someone got you good, didn't they?”

Before he had the chance to keep gloating, being the one smiling now, Seongje dropped down into a squat and swung his legs in a downward spin motion, sweeping Hyuntak off his feet. Literally.

Realising what had happened mid air, he hit the ground hard, back aching from the impact. Panic and adrenaline hit his system like a drug, or what he thought that sensation might feel like, and he tried to spring back up to his feet as fast as he fell. 

But things didn't go according to plan, they rarely did in any situation these two found themselves in. 

Hyuntak kicked his feet up in the air and pushed himself up with his arms into what would have been a perfect martial arts comeback, if it didn't get stopped by a fierce kick to his ribs. He collided with the floor once again, curling in on himself as he didn't even yell from the pain.

“You're not slipping away from me. Give it up.”

No amusement was hidden behind those words, only anger. 

“And I'm not letting you crawl away, you're above that, Go Hyuntak.”

Seongje bent down and flipped him onto his back, crouching next to the fallen boy. He then proceeded to grab his hand and bring it to his lips, just holding it there as if he was pondering what to do. Hyuntak froze, unsure of the situation, especially once he felt those very lips smiling across his skin. Was he going to bite him or perhaps snap his wrist?

He opened his mouth to speak, slowly catching his breath, but the air ended up getting caught in his throat when his arm got dropped in the favour of his right knee. 

Slowly and almost gently, Seongje moved his pant leg higher up, fingers brushing his thigh and burning Hyuntak’s skin. The ugly scar, both from the incident and the surgery that followed was visible even in the poorly lit alley. 

A hand moved back down and closed in on it, almost fully encapsulating the scar. 

“Ah here it is.”

Hyuntak froze, every thought and every instinct seeping out of his body. He stared at Seongje with wide, petrified eyes. But the touch remained gentle, one finger trailing the jagged vertical line almost absent mindedly. Then he spoke, whispering. 

“Be careful with those kicks, it's as if sometimes you forget you have a fucked knee, you know.”

Then he let go, straightened up and walked off. Hyuntak could hear receding, lazy footsteps followed by the sound of a lighter. 

He scrambled to sit up, suddenly freezing and shaking. What the hell had just happened and why did it have to happen tonight of all times? 

Usually, he was of impressive mental fortitude when it came to this. He knew why Baekjin hurt him, knew Humin blamed himself for it, knew how much they really cared for one another. Hell, he even cried at Baekjin’s funeral. One would think after going through what he had gone through, you would find it hard to stay best friends with Humin, but he wasn’t just anybody. And they weren’t just best friends, they shared a bond. It was something Hyuntak hadn’t felt since his childhood.

There it was, the reason he was capable of pushing so much about Baekjin under the rug. Because he blamed someone else more, way more than he thought possible. Someone he thought he would cherish forever, the person who stood and watched his knee become shattered and ruined, despite knowing he was an athlete. An athlete with dreams and aspirations he used to support.

Geum fucking Seongje, the person he hated, feared, thought about way too often at times.

The person who read so much manga in 10th grade he proceeded to go around telling half the school he and Hyuntak-ie were tied together by the red string of fate. 

And then high school came around and Hyuntak went to Eunjang, Seongje to Ganghak.

Promises were made, hang outs were due, they had stories to share and classmates to gossip. But on one winter day, everything changed. And it kept changing for the worse going forward.

Then Hyuntak made a friend. A decision he could never take back. But even knowing everything that happens, he wouldn’t change a single thing. He knew it wasn’t his fault he ended up as the center of two deranged, jealous people. One feeling betrayed he connected with another person deeply, the other feeling well, the same just about somebody else.

He never stood a chance at getting out unscathed.

The dirty asphalt felt cold beneath his simultaneously shivering and sweating body. He carefully moved his knees forwards, falling into a crouch before standing up to his full height. His breastbone hurt, his back and ribs hurt, he was sure he was going to be bruised all over. But he seemed more aware of every little place Seongje’s hands touched, burning from within as if he got branded, hot coal sliding across his body. He didn’t know what to think about that, so he chose not to think at all.

He frowned upon seeing his rolled up pant leg and brought it down to cover his bad knee. Somehow despite falling and getting into a fight, he never had it hit once. Surely, that was pure luck and nothing to do with Geum Seongje.

“Shit, my phone.” He cursed under his breath, positive he must have fallen on it when the bastard tripped him. He slid his hands in his pocket, feeling nothing but his leg beneath the cotton. His phone wasn’t there. He looked around, a little frantic, hoping it just fell out and was laying on the ground waiting for its owner.

He spent five minutes searching in vain. Nothing. His phone was gone.

Hyuntak walked back in silence, limping slightly before forcing himself to seem unhurt when he came closer to home. He had a feeling Humin was awake and sitting on the couch in the dark or something, like in the movies.

But instead, he saw the boy himself jogging towards him in the street right outside his building, one of Hyuntak’s jackets thrown over his shoulders.

“Baku?”

“Gotak! Where the hell have you been?!”

He yelled despite the late hour.

“Shut the fuck up, it’s late, Baku.” He inched closer and suddenly Humin hugged him, patting his back and squeezing him like he was something precious.

“Where did you go?”

Hyuntak felt guilty, he should have just woken Humin up and asked him to join. But he felt so desperately upset at that moment he craved being by himself. Of course that didn’t go as planned, but still, it was what he had wanted.

“Just took a walk, bought some water.”

“You must have been thirsty, did you drink it all in one go?” Humin’s voice relaxed now, tension leaving his body. “Let’s go inside, come on.”

Hyuntak let himself be led inside, and they didn’t speak after that, just went and laid back down, he didn’t even get a chance to do anything else as the taller boy never let go of him, almost as if he was afraid he would disappear.

It made him feel worse, realising how badly Humin needed him right then, so he complied and laid down into their little friend-nest. He fell asleep surprisingly fast, dreaming of his younger self, different school uniform, different best friend.

He woke up to the smell of pancakes, jolting before he processed where he was at or who he was. The others were still asleep, and Hyuntak took it as an opportunity to shower and change. In the steamy mirror he spotted a purple bruise forming on his back, and a matching one on his chest. 

Once he was done he walked into the kitchen and kissed his mother on the cheek. His beautiful mother, proud and supportive of everything he ever did in life. Specifically his taekwondo career, she was the proudest mom in the neighbourhood, bragging and telling everyone his accomplishments. That wasn’t their reality anymore.

He turned on his heel and walked back to his bedroom, waking his friends up. Sieun sleeping like he’s dead, which was unsettling, Juntae who slept like a baby and Humin who drooled all over the duvets.

“Wakey, wakey, you idiots. Breakfast is ready.” He smiled, and it was genuine.

Hyuntak was grateful for his friends.

Sunday crawled by, not terrible and not feeling like the anniversary of such a tragic day.

Even as if on cue every now and then those eyes and that smile permeated his mood.

And then it was Monday. Dead leaves began falling solemnly, piling up on top of one another and decorating Eunjang High School grounds. The air was crisp, the sky clear and Hyuntak walked together with Humin by his side. His phone was still gone, he wondered if he really lost it two nights ago in the alley. 

A couple steps ahead, there was a person who caught both of their attentions. Their back was turned, and they wore a school uniform the colour of wine. Ganghak High School.

But the figure was too short and too thin to have been Geum Seongje. Hyuntak shrugged and moved to walk past the kid, but then they turned around and said something unintelligible. It was a boy, probably some freshman. The kid glanced at him and opened his mouth. Then promptly closed it.

“Yeah? Spit it out.” Impatient and irritated, Hyuntak bit the words out.

He felt Humin, tense and protective as he put a hand on his shoulder.

The Ganghak student seemed to snap out of it, and he slid a mobile phone out of his backpack.

“He said that if you block his number, there will be consequences.” He stretched his hand out and gave it over.

“What?!”

“I don’t know, excuse me…” The kid then proceeded to run off, glancing back to see if either of them decided to follow him and ask more questions.

“Gotak.”

He met Humin’s gaze, which was hard and unrelenting.

“Just say the word, and I will go break Geum Seongje’s bones.”

Hyuntak laughed despite himself, tempted to simply say “word” as a joke. But then he glanced at his phone and unlocked it. 

The screensaver was changed. It was a picture of Hyuntak and Seongje, scrawny and young, one in a messy school uniform, the other in his taekwondo attire. They had their little arms around each other, smiling. They must have been nine or so in the picture.

Hyuntak shut his phone off extremely fast, worried Humin might have seen the picture. Funny, he considered him the closest person in his life at the moment, yet he never told him not even a little about his past.

“No, I will do it myself.”

He walked off towards the school with determination in his steps, Baku yelling after him to slow down.

If Geum Seongje wanted to slither back into his life, Hyuntak promised himself it wouldn’t go as he planned it. He will fight back, he will get back at him. He swore it.

His phone vibrated as if on cue, and he took it out angrily.

A text message read:

GS<3: do all your boyfriends hug u while wearing ur jackets?

Hyuntak sighed, anger threatening to spill out of him in waves, so he simply decided to shut his phone off as it kept vibrating as soon as he read the message.

The phone buzzed a final time as the screen went black.

Nope.

Not today. 

Chapter Text

First thing Hyuntak did was change the contact name from stupid GS<3 into simply bastard. 

He turned his phone back on during the third period, and muttered a string of colourful curses when about roughly twenty notifications piled up on the screen. Most of it was spam, stupid memes and emojis with no substance to them, merely aimed to annoy him. Then there were the provocative messages such as;

bastard: does park humin know he wasnt ur first

Hyuntak wanted to toss his phone out the window. 

It buzzed again, first message after two hours. Of course, Seongje didn’t get bored or forget to keep harassing him like Hyuntak hoped he would.

bastard: r u seriously going to keep ghosting me:(

“Wow.” Hyuntak gasped out loud, shaking his head. He was absolutely infuriated and sick of this. The thought of blocking the contact was on his mind the entire day, but he knew the crazy asshole would take any chance to fuck with him further when he was in the mood. He missed the times they would ignore each other’s existence.

hyuntak: would u please fuck off 

bastard: and here i thought u missed me

hyuntak: how did u unlock my phone?

Silence.

Not surprising, one mildly serious question and the pest got bored, he thought.

Buzz.

Nevermind.

bastard: u forget im still ganghaks top dog

bastard: a favor is all i need to ask

He meant threats. He meant threats to their life, future and security. So no wonder he found someone who is actually capable of cracking a person’s phone.

bastard: or i simply broke in while u were sleeping and used ur fingerprints to reset ur password<3

Hyuntak shuddered, the scenario something he could vividly picture in his mind’s eye.

He shut his phone off once again, the cursed device caused him irreparable levels of anguish by that point. Seongje cluttered the gallery with at least a dozen childhood pictures, some Hyuntak didn’t even know existed. From their impromptu training sessions, arcade playdates, you name it. He could still vividly remember their time spent together, Seongje waiting for Hyuntak to finish his taekwondo sessions so they could hang out and do anything but study.

Most days it was Hyuntak teaching Seongje how to maintain good focus while fighting, aside from teaching him some moves. You would think Hyuntak was the one who taught Seongje how to fight, but that wasn’t the case at all. The older boy grew up on the street, his moves precise, dirty and improvised despite never having had any training. The only thing he lacked was better technique and stamina management, which Hyuntak ended up providing. To think he would help create such a monster.

By the time they were thirteen and attached by the hip, Seongje already had a reputation for being a feral and violent kid. Hyuntak didn’t see that side too often because when they were together, Seongje didn’t go thrill seeking or provoking people into fights. When he did do so his targets would be high schoolers way above his league, but this was intentional. He would get beaten up and improve because of it. Rinse and repeat.

Hyuntak hated telling him to stop or prying too much into his home life, because one time when they were ten, he demanded to know more about Seongje’s family and in turn the boy avoided him for a whole month. Later he came to learn his situation was rough and weird, and that he was borderline homeless some days.

Precisely why Hyuntak dragged Seongje to his house whenever his mom made something he knew his friend would like to eat, and eventually it became something of a regular occurrence in his home. Despite being an unruly kid, he was very good at having manners and behaving in his house, to the point Hyuntak’s mom would joke and chide her own son for being less respectful than his friend.

Nowadays, she stopped asking about Seongje, and it’s been a long time since she’d last brought him up.

The professor finally walked in and Hyuntak decided to at least try and focus on what remained of his classes. He couldn’t afford to fail or get in trouble so much so that he wouldn’t be able to participate in the upcoming basketball tournament.

Humin suddenly ran into the classroom, slightly out of breath.

“I’m sorry I’m late, professor.” He bowed, voice slightly raised and apologetic.

He sat down behind Hyuntak and lightly slapped the back of his head.

“Hey, so what’s up with your phone and Seongje?”

There they came, the questions Hyuntak told him not to ask until the day was over. If he were to be honest, he only told him to wait because he had no idea how to explain this.

He repressed the past he and Seongje shared and treated the present he had with Humin as that which mattered. Because it did, Baku was who he cared about immensely, someone who never hurt him or betrayed him. Someone who rekindled Hyuntak’s faith in strong and beautiful friendships, and now he could proudly say he found even more people like that.

And Seongje, he was just an infected wound that refused to fully heal. Nothing was ever enough, and each time Hyuntak managed to at least fool himself into moving on, Seongje would appear like a recurring nightmare.

Like for instance, that day last spring when he was walking home together with Juntae, and suddenly he felt it. The hairs stood on the back of his neck like the other night at the convenience store. His instincts kicked in and he seldom dodged a teasing kick that came from his right.

And there he stood, Ganghak uniform fitting him so well he could be the school’s poster boy. Hyuntak felt Seongje’s eyes scan him as if searching for something. Then he had the audacity to say “ Long time no see” in front of Juntae, which luckily didn’t arise any uncomfortable questions later on. But now his friends might connect the dots.

An uncomfortable walk to a nearby rooftop followed, silent, the air charged with an unmistakable tension.

Hyuntak hated to make excuses for himself but he was rusty, quite on the contrary in Seongje’s case. He punched, kicked and blocked Hyuntak’s blows without much effort. But his face was serious most of the time, as if this wasn’t something he hoped to enjoy as much as he would have liked. Or perhaps it was another errand Baekjin had him do in order to rile up Humin. A likely occurrence.

The only smiles he managed to successfully drag out from Seongje was when a hit or two got him good, and his masochistic tendencies had the chance to flourish.

Hyuntak ran out of stamina soon enough after that, and was forced to stare into Seongje’s emotionless eyes as he slapped him for the camera.

The feeling of Humin’s hand gently tugging the back of his hoodie snapped him out of his daze. His friend was trying to get his attention once more.

“I’ll tell you about it later.” Lie.

He heard Humin sigh and give up, and before long the school day was over. The sound of chairs scraping the floor and his classmates’ loud voices were his cue to get his shit together, certain he was starting to become more suspicious than he already was by the second. He raised up to his feet and stretched as he threw on a smile for Humin.

“I have to go take a piss, I'll come down after.” He winked, perhaps trying too hard to convince his best friend into yet another lie he was telling.

“Yeah, yeah, tiny bladder. Don’t take forever.” There was a lack of joy in Humin's words.

They walked out into the hallway together, one of them going left in the direction of the toilets, the other towards the staircase on their right.

Hyuntak walked inside for the sake of pretense. His reflection stared back at him from the cracked mirror, fresh undercut for the new school year and clear, unblemished skin. Only thing ruining his good looks were his tired, bloodshot eyes. His vision blurred and he shook his head, debating on getting some caffeine out of the shitty coffee machine before heading out. He was going to take the side exit and head straight home.

He stepped out into the hallway, phone feeling a little too heavy in his pocket.

And with Hyuntak’s abundant luck, or lack thereof, he nearly smacked right into Yeon Sieun rounding the corner.

“Oh, Sieun-ah.” He took a step back, staying out of the boy’s personal space. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

“You don’t have to apologise, I didn’t see you either.” There was a playful lilt to his voice, Hyuntak realised he was in a great mood.

“Are you going to see Suho?”

“Mhm.” His eyes shone brightly despite the straight line his mouth was set in. “I will see you later, unless you want to walk together?”

Hyuntak was caught off guard, now realising if he were to lie to one of his friends it would mean lying to all of them.

“I was going to meet Baku and Juntae.”

“Are you sure?”

Are you sure? That further bewildered Hyuntak, and he worried if he was the world’s worst liar to have ever lived. He scratched the back of his head, suddenly embarrassed.

“Come.” Was all Sieun said.

“Sure, yeah.”

Hyuntak followed, the device in his pocket burning his skin through the thick fabric of his pants. It was all in his head, of course, but it still felt like someone put a hot piece of iron in its place.

Sieun spoke once again, his voice soft and quiet.

“It’s fine not wanting to talk about your past. I didn’t want to, either.” He glanced at Hyuntak as they walked towards the exit. “You shouldn’t force yourself to tell your friends everything until you’re ready, so don’t go avoiding us either.”

“No, I was-”

“Lying to Humin?”

Those eyes, doe and full of something akin to understanding pierced through him. But they were also sprinkled with thinly veiled judgement at Hyuntak for lying.

“Yeah, I was.” He admitted. “I just didn’t want to talk about what happened this morning and he expects me to tell him everything, because why wouldn’t I, you know?”

“I know.”

They kept walking, side by side as they left the school building behind them.

Suddenly the shorter boy spoke, interrupting the comfortable silence. “I won’t tell them I saw you.”

“Huh?”

“I won’t tell them, but in turn you have to set it straight tomorrow.”

“Set it straight?” Hyuntak was confused, unsure of what he meant.

They stopped walking and Sieun turned to look at him properly.

“Just tell Humin and Juntae you aren’t ready to talk about it. Misunderstandings and omitting stuff never ends well.”

There was a weight to his words. It wasn’t ordinary advice he was offering and Hyuntak instantly understood what his friend meant.

His face warmed up, immediately feeling guilty of his behaviour.

“Okay, yes.” He smiled to show his appreciation. “I will do exactly that, Sieun-ah. Thank you.”

His friend looked away, now shy to keep up the eye contact he usually had no issue with. That boy wouldn’t flinch away from the devil. “It’s nothing.”

“You’re a good friend.”

“You too.” Their eyes met again, corners raised and smiling. “I’ll be late to the bus.”

“Bye bye, Sieun-ah!”

They separated, each going their own respective ways. Hyuntak felt better even as the guilt of lying and trying to escape everything danced in the back of his mind, little voices judging him and prancing about, screaming.

After he felt he got far enough from the school grounds, he slid the phone out of his pocket and held the side button before the small buzz indicated it was turning on. The battery was at 95% which meant Seongje fully charged his phone before returning it.

There was only one message this time.

bastard: heard baku was there when the lackey gave u the phone lol

“This fucking asshole.”

He swiped to back out of the chat to open the settings, fumbling to find where the read receipts toggle was located. He switched it off and while he was at it turned Do Not Disturb on, too.

A slight wind picked up and caressed his face as he descended down the slope before his neighbourhood, pondering which would be the best method of grovelling tomorrow when he sees the disappointed faces of Humin and Juntae.

He went through his backpack and found what he was looking for, pulling out a tangled cable of his in-ear headphones. He made sure his adapter was there before plugging them in and tunnel visioning to his music app, ignoring everything else dotting his screen.

He really had to change that lockscreen.

He barely had the time for one song so he meticulously picked out one of his current favourites, leaving one earbud out of his ear in case of traffic, music blaring loudly in the other. He walked leisurely, trying to relax and feel better despite everything weighing on his soul. He ascended the stairway leading to his unit and twisted the old copper doorknob.

The door opened an inch or so before two voices filtered outside and into Hyuntak’s unoccupied ear.

“No, no, auntie, really, it’s true!” Amused and sweet laughter followed the sentence. “But I am really glad I stopped by, I am usually never in this neighbourhood because my high school is so far away.” 

He whined while Hyuntak’s mother laughed, pleasantly conversing with the one person he would never let step inside their house. Yet there he was, chatting and probably drinking tea with the most important person in Hyuntak’s life.

He stepped in, annoyed and angry as he ripped the headphones out and tossed his backpack off to the side. He didn’t bother taking his shoes off as he made it towards the living area. 

Seongje was sitting on their couch, cup in hand and a smile on his face. He was still clad in his school uniform. His lip seemed to have healed since the last time they saw each other.

“Honey, greet your friend properly.” His mother stood up, taking away the empty tray of whichever snacks she fed Seongje with. He hoped it would give him food poisoning.

They stared at each other, eyes scanning for weaknesses. Or whatever Seongje was looking for as his eyes flitted from bottom to top, before they stilled and looked straight into Hyuntak’s eyes.

“Hi, Hyeontak-ah. How have you been?” He smiled all the way, cockiness spilling out of him in waves and intoxicating the room.

“Perfectly fine. What about you, Seongje?” He spit the words out like it was the hardest thing for him to say, which was partly true.

Seongje stood up, laughing in that manner that made it sound like his breath was hitching as he was doing so.

“Walk me home?” He winked. “After all, we haven't seen each other in so long. Let’s catch up?”

The audacity was bewildering, he couldn't hold his tongue in reply. 

“Sure.” Hyuntak stared him dead in the eye. “You got a home?”

He could see his mother go still in his peripheral vision, but she chose not to say anything.

“Funny.” Seongje got up and walked right by him towards the discarded sneakers laying by the still opened door. Their shoulders brushed. “Let’s go.”

Hyuntak sighed, pinching his nose bridge in exasperation.

“I’ll be back soon.” He told his mother, who smiled and nodded, a little lost in thought after witnessing their tense interaction. To ease her worries, Hyuntak smiled and kissed her on the cheek, before following the other boy outside.

As soon as the doors clicked closed, Seongje had a cigarette in his mouth.

“Those fucking stink.”

“Don’t care. Get used to it.”

“There won’t be a need for that, you fucker.”

Seongje smiled with the cigarette now suspended between his teeth so he wouldn’t drop it. “Follow me.”

“No.”

“Come on. I won’t bite.” He outstretched his pinky finger. “Promise?”

He wiggled his hand for some time, revelling in every reaction he was getting out of this. 

“Shut up and walk. You’re pissing me off.” 

Hyuntak gave in and moved to go first, leaving Seongje behind him to snicker, footsteps coming up in sync as they got down to street level.

He turned around and glared at the nuisance personified, silently asking him which way they were going to go. He wanted to get it over with.

“What? I thought you took the lead for once?” Seongje taunted, exhaling cigarette smoke through his nose. “You used to be good at that, no?”

“Which way do you loiter around nowadays, Seongje?” 

“Oh, I just said whatever to get you outside, but sure. Follow me.”

Hyuntak was visibly taken aback. “What?”

“Follow.”

He conceded and obeyed, unsure himself why he even did so. He resented Seongje, wanted absolutely nothing to do with him or to be in his presence. Even a second felt more than long enough. But curiosity of unknown origin seemed to get beneath his skin, so in the end he saw himself walking side by side while the other didn’t even bother glancing his way. 

They circled around to the street on the other side of Hyuntak’s building, before Seongje spoke up.

“I forgot you and Baku were inseparable.” He exhaled a cloud of smoke and continued, “The kid, dropping off the phone and all. Fucking hilarious.”

This again, he seemed to really want to keep bringing Humin up whenever applicable.

“Is this fun for you, or something?” Hyuntak stopped and grabbed Seongje’s shoulder, turning him so they could face each other properly. 

“Is that not obvious?” Another snicker, another smile. He wanted to punch it clean off his face.

“Why are you doing this, Seongje?” He walked up to his face, glaring. “I thought you were bored of me, or did I get that wrong?

“Bored?” He laughed, smoke escaping his lips. He chucked the half finished cigarette aside and leaned in slightly, their noses almost touching. His eyes looked deranged, pupils blown wide. “Was being bored of you such a crime, friend? Repaying back what you did to me?”

“What I did to you?” Hyuntak nearly shrieked.

An elderly lady dragging a shopper bag on wheels glared at them.

“Yes, what you did to me.” 

Seongje took one step back, eyes unflinching and unmoving from Hyuntaks.

“If we are going to talk about this now of all times, we should probably not do so in the fucking street.”

He then turned and continued moving away, expecting Hyunak to do the same. He concurred and continued walking, but this time only because he wanted to fight Seongje so badly he felt the muscles of his arms vibrate all the way down to his fingertips. Tinnitus hit his ear drums and he could only picture his fist flying towards Seongje’s ugly glasses.

The older boy glanced over his shoulder as if he could smell Hyuntak’s bloodlust. His eyes smiled before his mouth could follow and he nodded his head twice, seemingly pleased.

“This ought to be fun.” He whispered to himself and kept up with the leisurely yet certain pace, meanwhile Hyuntak had to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, certain he would lose his composure any moment now.

The road they were taking started to feel familiar after some ten or fifteen minutes.

“Are you seriously taking me to fucking Daesung Motorcycles?”

Seongje turned around and began walking backwards. “So? There’s no more Union, and the prick that is the gangster asshole doesn’t care for this place, either.”

Gangster asshole?

“This where you’ve been sleeping?”

“No.”

Short answer, but it sounded like the truth. Hyuntak figured he couldn’t use the same space one too many times. His anger now bubbled beneath his skin in a less aggressive intensity, but it was far from gone. It was as if he was just waiting for that perfect opportunity, the perfect opening to act. 

The angrier he got, Hyuntak had the tendency to forget who he was dealing with. So it was precisely why he was desperately trying to control himself at that moment.

Seongje unlocked the door and disappeared into the big, cluttered room. The partition which was used to separate the little area by the entrance from where the couches and the office were situated was already up. The air was stale, rubber and piles of discarded cigarettes the only distinguishable scents. Sunlight made its way inside through the filthy windows and allowed for them to spot every speck of dust floating about, which were many in number.

Despite it being early in the afternoon and incredibly bright outside, Daesung Motorcycles remained the ugly, orange hued hole in the wall on the inside.

Hyuntak couldn’t keep his mouth shut for a second longer, irritated they were just standing there in silence.

“So what now? You wanted to talk?” He made sure to throw his hands into mock quotation marks at the word talk .

Seongje took his bag off the one shoulder it was loosely hanging from and tossed it aside without a care for where it landed.

“Talk? Maybe.” He took a cigarette out, not lighting it. “You looked like you would come at me swinging right next to your apartment complex.”

“And what if I was?!”

Seongje laughed, shaking his head and pretending to wipe away imaginary tears.

“I really like your mother, you know.”

That sentence made Hyuntak take several steps towards him.

“Woah, there, mama’s boy. Not like that.” He waved his index finger left and right as if to further his point. “Not that it’s about her, I see where you get your looks from, Tak-ah.”

“Get to the fucking point.” Hyuntak’s hands were clenched into fists so tightly his knuckles turned white, bones protruding. 

“All I’m saying is, she’s a lovely lady I have liked since you brought me there for the first time and she made me a sandwich with a smiley face on it. You know, with ketchup.” He lit the cigarette. “It would be a disgrace to her honour if I beat her beloved son to pulp right under her window.”

“You motherfucker.” Hyuntak hissed, this time inching close enough to what he dubbed ‘ideal kick distance’.

“You're so cute when you glare at me like that.” He taunted, ash falling from his cigarette because he was too busy staring at Hyuntak to shake it off.

Every sane thought dissipated from Hyuntak’s brain as if someone pressed a cartoonishly large red button, one with a label warning against doing precisely that.

He threw a reckless kick Seongje’s way which the latter dodged with laughable ease.

“Ah, so we are doing this?” He took a drag of his cigarette and slowly took his glasses off, no rush in his movements. “Okay.”

Seongje threw a punch, fast and direct. He aimed for Hyuntak’s cheek and struck true, his head whipping back as he wondered if it was possible for one punch to break his cheekbone. 

“I thought I told you to stop throwing dumb fucking kicks.”

Another punch, this one Hyuntak blocked with his forearms. He wondered why Seongje took his time instead of assaulting him with a barrage of fast, merciless hits. This wasn’t very much his style.

“Are you holding back, asshole?!”

“What made you think that?” Seongje snorted, taking the still lit cigarette out of his mouth and placing it between his index and middle fingers. It was almost burnt down to filter.

Then he swung.

Hyuntak assumed a defensive position, but he didn’t expect the fist flying towards his nose to suddenly change direction. The cherry red and hot end of the cigarette grazed his knuckles and stung, becoming put out on the backs of his fingers.

“Shit, fuck.” He cursed, waving his hand back and forth with a shocked expression on his face, which raised out a giggle out of the other boy.

“You’re so fun to play with.”

At that statement, as if a man possessed, Hyuntak felt his mind empty. Only things he felt were the pulsing throb of his cheek and the aches in his forearms, the cigarette wound forgotten. He raised his bad knee up, mimicking the motion one would do to land a kick to Seongje’s stomach, and part of him enjoyed seeing his opponent’s eyes drift down to it, an unreadable expression in his eyes. 

Then as fast as he faked the move, Hyuntak switched legs and shot out with a hook kick.

It connected with a satisfying, almost hollow sounding thud to the back of Seongje’s ribs. It caused him to falter for a single moment, but that was all Hyuntak needed to chain it with an impressive roundhouse kick straight into the boy’s jaw. His head whipped back violently, eyes glazing over, shiny and bewildered. 

He fell down hard, catching himself with his hands at the very last second, or else his head would have made contact with the filthy concrete.

Hyuntak wasted no time, adrenaline coursing through his veins and commanding him like a string puppet, no move or action feeling like one truly of his own volition. He dropped down into a crouch and aimed his legs towards Seongje’s neck and shoulders.

Seongje knew exactly what he was planning to do and with a minutely panicked action he attempted to grab one of Hyuntak’s legs and twist them away. However, given he fell down onto his side, Seongje had no purchase or enough strength in said angle to outmanoeuvre Hyuntak’s strong legs.

They shot out towards his neck. 

Seongje ended up in a chokehold, but not your traditional one, his neck between Hyuntak’s thighs as he gasped for air, clawing and punching aimlessly in an attempt to break out.

“I got you now, fucking asshole.”

“You f-” Seongje tried to mutter a curse and failed, the situation he was put in made it difficult to form a single coherent sentence. 

“Are you going to beg me to let you go, Seongje-yah?” Hyuntak felt triumphant, enjoying how the person he hated the most kicked and struggled in his grip, uselessly trying to grab him with outstretched hands.

No answer. It seemed Seongje was too focused on retaining his consciousness. Hyuntak debated on letting go so he could gloat, but he knew well enough that if he were to do that, it wouldn’t end well.

Seongje wasn’t difficult to piss off, hell he would fight you if you looked at him wrong or simply for a second longer than he liked.

The only option was to knock him out and deal with the aftermath some other time. 

Just to see what happens, Hyuntak slightly loosened the grip. Seongje coughed and shook violently, waves of rage spilling from his body and onto Hyuntak’s, skin shivering beneath his Eunjang uniform.

“Let me go, or I will kill you, Go Hyuntak.” 

The threat came out raspy and breathy, something about how his voice sounded made Hyuntak’s stomach do a weird flip. Probably because he skipped lunch break, why else?

“If I do that right now, you will actually kill me.” He reinforced the grip, slightly enjoying how Seongje’s body seemed to relax against its wishes in his hold. “Sweet dreams, fucking asshole.”

Then Seongje’s eyes fluttered shut and he passed out, hands falling away from Hyuntak’s legs. 

Hyuntak let go, reflexively catching the unconscious boy’s head before it could hit the floor. His eyes passed over his features, plump, heart-shaped lips, long eyelashes. He looked so peaceful, so calm there in Hyuntak’s hands, like a stranger you walk by on the street and deja vù hits you like you two met in a distant, past life. 

He straightened up into a sitting position, letting Seongje’s head lay in his lap without much thought about the thoughtful action. 

He sat there for what felt like thirty minutes, and in reality was probably less than five. He watched Seongje’s chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. His eyes were still, dreamless. 

It reminded him of their sleepovers, of when Hyuntak would awake first and notice Seongje never seemed to be dreaming. He was also an incredibly light sleeper, sometimes waking up simply because Hyuntak opened a window or moved to stand up from the bed. 

It was weird seeing him right now, knocked out and pliable to Hyuntak’s wishes. He debated between tying him up and leaving him there, or something. It would be a decent revenge after what he tried to do to Sieun. 

But the image of a tied up Seongje went through his head and he instantly regretted it, shaking his head. To escape that train of thought, Hyuntak went through his pockets until he found the half empty pack of cigarettes, lighter within. 

He took one out, put it between his lips and flicked the lighter on. It took him a couple tries before the flame steadied and he brought it to the tip of the cigarette. He pulled, inhaling only a little and getting the flame to do its job right. He succeeded in one try, clearly not forgetting how to do it after all these years.

He used to carry a spare lighter on his person, because the bastard kept losing his. So oftentimes Hyuntak would light up Seongje’s cigarettes for him, acquainted with what his ex friend had to do for the flame to take. 

He held the lit stick between his slender fingers and stared at the wisp of smoke rising and disappearing after a couple of pretty twirls. The sight brought him back to that one stuffy summer night, sometime after he turned 15. Seongje dared him to smoke a cigarette, one thing he usually never wanted Hyuntak to do.

But they were tipsy, having stolen a bottle of soju from Hyuntak’s kitchen cabinet and proceeded to run off towards the riverbank. It was humid and hot despite the late hour, and Seongje laughed more than ever at the sight of his best friend coughing uncontrollably. 

“You're so ass at this.”

“I have never smoked before-” Another cough. Hyuntak’s vision blurred, smoke billowing into his watery eyes and he squinted. “How do you even do this shit?”

Seongje didn't reply, only smiled as he tenderly cupped Hyuntak’s face. They were so close that Seongje could see the city lights reflected in his eyes. He wiped the small tear that trickled down Hyuntak’s cheek. 

“Okay, that's enough. Give me the cigarette, Hyuntak-ah.”

“Take it yourself, asshole.”

…

Hyuntak shook his head, having been brought back to reality. The cigarette in his hand was half burned at that point and he decided to take a puff, unable to resist.

And just like that night, he couldn't hold back his coughs, the sensation of swallowing tiny needles stuck in his throat. The cigarette was rancid and way too strong, Seongje having levelled up on the nicotine intake. He was half disappointed it didn’t feel milder like it did that night, when Seongje took it off him, inhaled the smoke deeply within his lungs and brought their faces together only to-

Hyuntak jolted, blushing fiercely. He told himself that night didn't mean anything, that they were drunk and stupid. He felt nothing but vitreous hatred for the asshole suspended in his hold right then and there. 

He reached for Seongje’s discarded backpack, one so light he doubted even a single notebook was located inside, and placed it beneath his neck and head.

He figured that ought to do it, but he will still probably catch a cold.

Hyuntak decided not to care, refusing to move the sleeping bully onto the couch. He was brought back to the memory of himself and Humin running inside this building only to find Juntae dozing off on the couch, Seongje lounging on the other end. Neither had looked at the other, not even sparing a glance. 

The bastard had the courtesy to make sure his hurt friend was comfortable, but he didn't think Seongje deserved the same gesture. He left him there on the ground, still and kind of peaceful. Hyuntak butted the cigarette out next to Seongje’s head and then put it in his hair, hoping it would stink. 

The petty action made him feel better about himself. He stood up, dusting himself off and trying to remove the disgusting dirt smearing his favourite hoodie. 

Walking out into the fresh air felt better than it should have, perhaps due to the fact he was alone and free, finally. He picked up the pace, wanting to get far away from the warehouse as quickly as his legs would take him. 

He only relaxed when he spotted his street out in the distance. He grabbed his phone, fiddling with it until all the notifications could arrive normally. He scrolled down the contacts’ list on his phone and texting apps until he found and blocked Seongje’s number. All that remained was the rest of the bullshit that got put into his gallery. 

First thing Hyuntak did was change the wallpaper back to his favourite picture he took on their freshman year aquarium trip, and the lockscreen to the picture of his late cat. After doing that, he selected all of the pictures Seongje planted into his phone. His finger hovered over the delete button.

He blinked once, twice. His brain fogged, hand suddenly unsteady. He looked up at the blue sky and muttered a curse before bringing his gaze back onto his phone. He pressed the little plus symbol and created a new folder, slotting all of the pictures within. He then opted to hide the album.

Everything felt like it went back to normal, even if it was most likely an illusion. Seongje would wake up and retaliate, no doubt about it. Deciding not to delve on it too much, Hyuntak dialed Humin’s number. His best friend picked up after two rings. 

“Gotak?! Are you okay?!”

His voice was worried and urgent. Hyuntak felt terrible about it.

“Yeah, Baku, I’m sorry for running off.”

“Where are you? You’re not home.”

“Oh.” His best friend went to search for him, of course he did. “I just, uhm...”

He hesitated.

“Your mom told me you went to walk a friend home. Was it Sieun?”

“We did walk together, yeah.”

“Gotak.”

“Hm?”

The line died and Hyuntak frowned, confused. He thought he accidentally hung up with his ear.

“Hey, Gotak.”

Park Humin’s voice, but it didn’t come from the phone, no, it came from nearby.

His best friend stood in front of him, already changed out of his school clothes.

“Baku? What the hell, how are you here?”

He walked towards him, glad to see a familiar face after everything that happened not even thirty minutes ago.

Humin took a deep breath, threw on a smile and enunciated his next sentence.

“You and I, we are going to shoot some hoops. Saying no is not an option!”

Hyuntak was taken aback, but not against the idea. “Okay, sure.”

“Then when we’re done, you can decide whether you want to talk about why that psychopath seems to have a hard on for you. And what happened to your cheek.” He smiled. “Or not.”

“Get going, you crazy asshole.” Hyuntak smiled back, shaking his head.

And the pair walked off, laughing and slapping each other on their backs. Hyuntak was comfortable and happy for the first time that day, completely oblivious to what’s to come, or the social media post that began spreading like wildfire later that evening.

One that Juntae will send to their group chat the next day, a post made by none other than Geum Seongje. A selfie of his, no glasses, disheveled hair and a cigarette butt hanging above his forehead. He had the audacity to pout in the picture.

The post had dozens if not a hundred comments, all sparked because of the caption which read;

if you wanted to shotgun a cigarette again, eunjang, all u had to do was ask 

Chapter Text

Hyuntak was fully convinced Geum Seongje was nothing short of insane.

On his third headache of the day he sluggishly walked to the cafeteria, feet dragging, his very own heartbeat pounding in his ears in a dysfunctional rhythm. He feared manifesting a cold onto Seongje bounced it right back at him. Some twisted, shitty boomerang of fate. There was a budding fever burning up from beneath his skin and making him slightly delirious. With each slow, agonizing second Hyuntak felt himself becoming more and more sensitive to every emotion humanly possible, annoyance being the highest of them all.

He heard the words cigarette, shotgun, Seongje and kiss so many times that morning it kept nudging him closer and closer to a raging breakdown. If he were to witness one more question related to the incident while walking the hallways, he was going to lose it.

“Tak-ah! Let me feel your forehead!” Juntae ran up and caught up to Hyuntak, worried expression on his face. “I am certain that you have a fever. You should go home.”

“I’ll just endure.”

“Tak-ah!” Juntae yelled, placing himself in front of him. “Don’t push yourself.”

Having been forced to stop walking so suddenly, Hyuntak’s vision spun. He grabbed onto Juntae in what felt like the last second before his legs buckled.

The shorter boy caught him, biting his lips in worry at the sight.

“See?” He steadied Hyuntak back up, taking the opportunity to feel his forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“Shit, maybe I should go, huh?”

A student walked by them, telling his friend how crazy it is that someone left a cigarette bud in Geum Seongje’s hair.

“I need to get the fuck out of here, Juntae-ssi.”

His friend smiled, shaking his head. Together they walked to the nurse’s office so it could be established Hyuntak is actually sick and could go home. His temperature wasn’t so bad, merely at the level which caused those numbing headaches. Hyuntak bowed his head and thanked the nurse, the motion making his vision spin. He felt like his brain moved around and bounced off the walls within his skull when he straightened up, wincing.

Ten minutes later, Hyuntak was focusing on moving in a steady motion, backpack slung over one shoulder. Another downslope awaited him and he suddenly regretted not wanting to call his mother to come get him, but she was at work and he didn’t want to disrupt her shift.

Humin sent stickers and “get well soon” messages to their group chat, along with several voice notes of him saying the same thing. Too tired to reply properly, Hyuntak hearted the messages. For a split second, once he moved his watery eyes up from the screen, he could smell tobacco in the air. And as fast as it came, the scent was gone.

Hyuntak turned around, peered into the surrounding alleys, looked up towards rooftops. Nothing, no one. Maybe he is so sick he started hallucinating Seongje stalking him. Those eyes, irritating but all-seeing despite his impaired vision. There was something about the shape, the intensity of the gaze and the various ways he caught him looking at him. But the one, single instance Hyuntak could never get out of his head was the stone cold, lifeless and uninteresting set of eyes Seongje graced him with the moment Na Baekjin brought his foot down, shattering his future.

But there was another kind of look Seongje was capable of, too, something he only ever found in Park Humin after they parted ways.

It had been this specific way, how his dark irises would zero in on Hyuntak’s and latch straight onto his soul. Growing up, he only had the chance to witness it a few times and could probably count all the instances on one hand.

But it was such a gaze it left him suspended with shivers each time. That one time when Hyuntak hid an injury caused by another kid when they were eleven, or the time his deadbeat father showed up and only upset him and his mother when he they were thirteen. Seongje’s eyes would peer into his face, scanning each feature and jotting down even the slightest movements. He could always tell if Hyuntak lied, if he felt how he said he did, if everything was okay.

He looked at him in the same manner that summer night they were fifteen too, shotgunning a cigarette together. It was as if he was deciding between taking it a step further, or not, depending on how Hyuntak seemed to be feeling about it.

Hyuntak wondered if things would have gone differently if he made the resolute next step, and if he would mind doing that with Seongje. He wasn’t sure, really.

He made it to his apartment successfully. After fumbling with the keys adorned with one too many keychains Humin got for him as a present, the door finally gave in. He glanced at the useless dice and shitty superhero toy hanging off it, the blue and red Humin dubbed as their colours, so he wanted to give him something which consisted of them both. Always with the yin and yang stuff, his friend. 

He kicked out of his sneakers and walked straight for the couch, hitting the cushions hard as he tossed himself on it face down. He thought about the events of the night before, going through it in his mind akin to a shitty, little film roll.

The basketball court.

Park Humin.

Juntae joining a little late.

The tense conversations to be had.

Or so Hyuntak expected, but in reality his friends seemed to be content with only bits and pieces he ended up sharing about his encounter with Seongje. The two had villianised him in their heads, not even having been needed to be convinced how Hyuntak just fought him off because the boy was bored, looking for trouble. How Seongje underestimated him, which was true, so Hyuntak landed a decimating blow, or something. He was bullshitting his way through the entire thing, letting his friends connect the dots themselves.

And having connected them in all the wrong ways, Hyuntak didn’t feel like correcting them. He felt he was lucky Sieun couldn’t make it, otherwise things would have unfolded a little differently, and he would have to spill his secrets about himself and Seongje’s tightly knitted past.

Perhaps the cold was divine punishment for not being honest with the people closest to him.

But Hyuntak simply wasn’t ready. Heavy thoughts on his mind and heart, he ended up passing out on his stomach, the couch cushions like an enveloping hug to his sore body as hours began drifting away in a half lucid daze.

“Hyuntak-ah.”

A nudge to his back.

“Hyuntak.”

A poke on his head.

Hyuntak jolted, stirring with a jolt. A face was right next to his, peering into his eyes with a curious look. Wide, doe and beautiful.

Yeon Sieun looked at him with a solemn yet kind expression. On the coffee table next to them lay a pack of medicines and a little tuft of lemons. There was tea brewing on the stove.

“Sieun-ah?” Hyuntak’s voice was sore and strained. He was dehydrated, no doubt about it.

“There’s tea and medicine for you there.” He gestured behind himself. “Your mother let me in. She went to buy groceries to make you some kimchi stew.”

“Ah, really?”

Hyuntak sat up very slowly, blinking fatigue away. He thought he felt a little better, until seconds later the room around him began to spin in a kaleidoscope of lights and shapes, the orange hue from the lamp beside him, Sieun’s chocolate hair, the yellow fruit on the table.

“Fuck, the room…” He muttered, falling back down onto the couch.

Sieun rubbed his shoulders in a comforting manner, and sat by his side until his mom showed up and he had some food to eat. Hyuntak remembered him bowing a goodbye followed by a string of praises on how he was a good boy, so nice, so kind, a great friend. Hyuntak would have to agree, however delirious he was at that moment he was certain about Sieun deserving all of the praise.

Then once more, stomach full and head heavy, time seemed to blur away as if someone diluted the watercolours on the palette of his mind; the see through shades fading and escaping off his brush and taking the consciousness away with it. 

Hours later, he woke up to a start. Hyuntak didn’t realise how or when he had gotten into bed, but he was happy he was there, the couch left his neck aching and sore. He was half certain he might not be able to move it to the left in the morning. He slowly sat up, grateful for the glass of cold water by his bedside. His skin glistened with sweat, his hair and undershirt both half soaked as the consequence of his fever, which worsened as the day went on.

He pressed the backs of his palms to his face, body now feeling cool and empty. His hurt knuckle brushed his scraped cheekbone and he was reminded of the person who caused these wounds, someone who kept wanting to slice at his skin and crawl inside, to make residency inside his bones, hollow them out, make them his. Suddenly, Seongje was there, standing in front of him, pinning him to the bed. There was something warm and wet on Hyuntak’s chest, the quiet around him becoming disrupted by a disgusting, squelching noise and the dull, odd sensation of something trying to tear through his flesh.

And once he looked down, the sight of his torso bleeding and splitting open, rib cage slightly visible beneath rough hands made his breath hitch in the back of his throat.

Seongje straddled him, mouth bloodied.

“I’m not letting you give this to anyone but myself.”

Hyuntak woke up.

His lungs ached as he hurriedly sat up, hyperventilating and sweating profusely. He palmed his chest, pressing his fingers into his sternum and feeling his collarbones. He was whole, he wasn’t bleeding. Seongje wasn’t in his room.

He had a nightmare, surely, even if he believed for a split second what he saw was real. But there was nobody there, the room was empty and his body was unhurt. The air felt stale and suffocating, the essence of despair hung low and enveloped him while he struggled to breathe. His lungs felt shallow, unbefitting his current need for oxygen.

He laid back down, ditching the covers and staring at the ceiling. His room was tinged blue, the clock reading 5:27AM. He could see the silhouettes of his things scattered about, the desk and wardrobe still submerged in darkness. The posters on the walls he could almost perfectly see now creating a contrarian balance in turn. Hyuntak laid there for several minutes, replaying the contents of his horrible dream.

The look on Seongje’s face, his eyes haunted and haunting, fingers deep within Hyuntak’s chest cavity, arms soaked in blood to the elbows. His face serious, too serious, a sight he wasn’t sure he ever had the opportunity to see in real life. Perhaps it was the scariest part of the dream, aside from the remark he makes about his heart at the very end.

“Fuck this.” He muttered, sitting back up and putting his head into his hands. His forehead now felt cool and clammy to the touch, perhaps he sweated out the entirety of the fever and was finally doing better. He cursed a couple more times, rummaging for clean clothes and almost tripping and falling down over a discarded sock on his way to the bathroom.

Hyuntak tried to enjoy his shower, scrubbing off the icky feeling of his skin and the faint scent of sickness that he felt trailed around him like a dull aura. A couple times in which his hands flew over his chest he would get overly conscious, worried each time his eyes would drift even a minute inch low enough and he would see split skin, his ribs jutting out like a broken hull of a ship, blooding pooling and mixing with the water by his feet.

Drip, drip, drip. 

But no such thing happened, it was all simply in his head. Hyuntak must still be having a fever, then.

He finished in the bathroom, towel drying his hair and brushing his teeth before changing clothes. The sun was out by now, soft light filling his room as he opened the window to let some air in. There it was, tobacco lingered in the air like a reminder. But Hyuntak knew none of his neighbours had smoked, especially at this hour. He stayed still for a moment, hand outstretched and suspended on the window hinge. Failing to fight temptation, Hyuntak fully slid it open and looked outside, daring the subject of his nightmares to materialise.

The empty street, lower levels still suspended in shade because the buildings were simply too tall for so early in the morning, the large star barely showing itself. Hyuntak too felt he was in a similar state, not so hopeless, not so without a sun, but still miserable enough it wouldn’t show itself and warm up his frayed body. 

He moved to stand in the kitchen, empty glass in hand, throat parched despite a liter of water he downed in one go.

Hyuntak felt like his skin was going to pop at its seams if he were to do nothing about himself, he simply couldn’t sit still and he refused to remain inside a moment longer. He took a sticky note and left a message for his mother in case she wakes up by the time he returns, chicken scratch now pasted on the fridge. He wrote he was out for a run and feeling better now, which was a stretch, a big one, but he was almost certain he was no longer sick. Just in case, he threw on a warm hoodie before stepping outside as the frisk air hit his face. 

He rounded the building so he was facing his bedroom window, half certain this is where he caught the familiar scent from. His red rimmed eyes frantically searched for the specific suspect he had in mind, almost as if he wanted him to be there.

But once again Hyuntak found himself to be alone. 

He broke into a light jog, slowly picking up pace as he felt his muscles warm up. Not stretching beforehand was a mistake he knew he was committing, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He wanted to shake off the thoughts of Seongje festering in his mind, of how red his teeth looked in the dream, how his eyes looked hungry. 

He ran aimlessly, absolutely unconcerned of which direction he was taking and before long, Hyuntak found himself in an unfamiliar neighbourhood. It was somewhat nice, somewhat rundown. Broken bottles and trash littered one side of the street, flowered pots and cute shops decorated it on the other. He slowed down to a stop and tried to catch his breath, grateful the cold he obtained didn't affect his throat or lungs. 

After several moments of him being bent down, damp hair mixing with the sweat now pooling beneath his hairline, someone honked their scooter at him.

“Get out of my fucking parking spot, fucking asshole.”

A man's voice shrieked behind Hyuntak, and he turned around. The angry driver glared at him to move and so he did, bowing once and apologising while the middle aged man muttered some incredibly insulting things about today's youth, things he chose to ignore and started walking away instead. 

Yet he scarcely made it two steps before a blaring orange jacket appeared in his peripheral vision. 

A goshiwon residency was on Hyuntak’s right, that same building with all the flowers on some of the balconies. It was seldom shabby, but not horribly cheap looking. You couldn't imagine cannibals living here, like in that one drama Humin forced him to watch together. 

But funnily enough, there stood the boy he dreamt cannibalised him just an hour ago. Messy hair, glasses hanging low on his nose and an unlit cigarette in his mouth as he rummaged through a mailbox. He hadn't noticed Hyuntak yet, or so he hoped.

But as if sensing he was being watched, Seongje spoke in a groggy, quiet voice, but loud enough for Hyuntak’s ears. 

“Don't you dare fucking move.”

The tone was cold, the delivery even colder. Seongje gave up on his mail quest, turning his head towards Hyuntak. He looked him up and down, smirking before their eyes met. 

“What the hell are you doing here, huh? You stalking me now?”

Hyuntak was taken aback, mind still a little foggy for him to be arguing with Seongje then of all times. 

“I just went for a jog. What the hell are you doing here?”

Seongje looked at him like he was stupid. 

“I live here?”

“You're paying for a goshiwon? This far out?”

Hyuntak frowned, wondering why he chose to stay so far away from Ganghak High School. He may not have known his exact whereabouts, but he had an inkling they were in the opposite direction of the school. However Hyuntak’s luck still wasn't stellar, apparently, and he randomly ended up right inside of the wolf’s jaw yet again, despite it being a complete coincidence. 

Seongje answered the question. “Some people found out where I was staying last time. It caused a ruckus so I got kicked out.”

“Huh.” Hyuntak zipped his hoodie up all the way. “So this is what the remnants of the Union’s money does for you?”

Seongje casually came closer, within reach now from where he stood.

“Oh I’ve got money, Tak-ah.” He poked his tongue on the underside of his mouth, a new habit. “But how will you repay me for what you did?”

“For what I did?” Hyuntak’s voice came out slightly bewildered, slightly nervous.

Seongje looked too similar to his nightmare twin when his appearance was so messy. For a moment, Hyuntak was back in his bed, blood everywhere. Then he blinked and the Seongje in front of him held out a little flame and blew smoke straight into Hyuntak’s face once he had the cigarette lit up.

“Walk with me.”

He took off, doing that shitty thing again where he expected to be followed, no qualms about it. Hyuntak planted his feet and refused to move, waiting for Seongje to do something about it. The taller boy turned around and snickered, mist of the early morning melding with his cigarette. They stared at each other, unflinching.

Hyuntak steeled his gaze, eyebrows scrunching before he turned around, full 180 degrees. He began walking away, no footsteps following him to his surprise. He quickened his pace, head beginning to hurt once more. He stopped by an alley to regain his bearings and to make sure he was going back the way he came.

But before he could spare some time to think, he heard several thudding footsteps from the alley he chose as his respite. He realised too late he picked out the worst one since it led to the other side of the goshiwon residence, making it incredibly easy for Seongje to ambush him from a different direction.

Which is precisely what ended up happening.

Seongje was there in seconds, pushing him against the moldy wall in a single motion. He used his body to slam into Hyuntak’s with much power, kicking the air clean out of his lungs. Hyuntak reflexively bent forwards, head slamming into Seongje’s chest which vibrated with an animalistic laughter, full of rage. So he really was upset that Hyuntak knocked him out and left him to rot on the filthy floors of Daesung Motorcycles. Or angry he walked away from him just then, you could never be certain with him.

Seongje cradled him for a single moment before gripping his hair roughly and bringing his head back up to level. Their eyes met, one pair dizzied and unfocused, the other shaky and aggressive. Seongje used his forearm to keep Hyuntak pinned, his other arm braced on the wall, his perceptive eyes not failing to notice how unwell the boy he pressed up between himself and the residency was feeling.

“Oh, no, Hyuntak-ie really is sick, isn’t he?” He taunted, voice full of disgust and something else, amusement perhaps. “I thought I saw the Newbie carrying lemons or some shit.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Hyuntak struggled to focus on the other’s face. It felt like someone put a plastic bag over his head. “You saw Sieun?”

Seongje only snorted in reply, too busy staring at Hyuntak.

“So you really are stalking me, you crazy motherfucker.”

Hyuntak came to his senses, vision slowly sharpening with each intake of breath. He could see Seongje’s curious eyes scanning his face.

“Stalking you?” He scoffed. “What gave you that idea?”

“The cigarettes.” Hyuntak didn’t blink. “Maybe don’t smoke when you’re tailing my ass.”

Seongje pushed him, their foreheads coming close to knocking into one another.

“I would have to be insane to stalk you. It would mean stalking Baku now, too, wouldn’t it?”

His eyes were full of, not hate, but a different emotion Hyuntak wasn’t able to grasp in that moment.

“Why the fuck are you so obsessed with Baku?!”

“Me? Obsessed with Baku?! No, no, we leave that for our deceased friend.”

Hyuntak was the upset one now, he couldn’t even begin to understand why Seongje was acting like this. He was over it, he was sick of it. Unable to conceal his anger he tried to kneel Seongje in the stomach, but the latter dodged.

“Stay still.” He hissed, faces a breath apart. “I’m debating on going easy on you, because I do admit, I didn’t think you would get me so good.”

“Get off me, asshole.”

“It was kind of fun, waking up with a shitty cigarette in my hair. Did you smoke it yourself?”

“I said to get off me!” Hyuntak screamed, but made no move to push Seongje away. His head spun.

“Make me.”

The teasing remark was all it took for Hyuntak to hook his ankle around Seongje’s, albeit clumsily so he lost balance himself more so than what he intended for it to do to Seongje. Somewhat succeeding, they both tumbled away from the wall for a brief second. It created an opening for Hyuntak to draw the first punch and he wasted no time doing so, else he could lose the opportunity. He struck true, the feeling of his knuckles against Seongje’s mouth the sweetest thing he felt in a long time. Perhaps he had sadistic tendencies too, or it was only reserved for the one in front him.

Seongje came to his senses as fast as he was hit, retaliating instantly. He laughed as he threw his fist directly into Hyuntak’s stomach, his lip bloodied, tearing up further when he smiled as wide as he could. They ended up against the wall again, Seongje pushing Hyuntak whose vision spun for what he felt was the tenth time that morning. 

“Aw, are you still ill, my Hyuntak?” He stroked his face with one thumb, slowly moving it back and forth. “If you thought that would make me hold back my punches, you were wrong.” He enunciated the last word, whispering it to his face as he held it.

His breath was a mix of cigarettes and mint toothpaste, the odd combo somewhat grounding Hyuntak and helping him stay awake. Seongje grabbed his hair with his free hand, lifting him up slightly higher so they could make eye contact.

“I want to mess up your pretty face so you can’t avoid your little friends’ incessant questions.” He laughed, unable to stop himself as he indulged this perverse joy he was overcome with. “Park Humin is allowed to have a past, and you’re not? Bullshit.”

“Is this fun for you, Seongje?” Hyuntak’s voice was quiet, but the anger didn’t leave him so easily. “Why do you even care?”

“I don’t.”

Another push, the back of Hyuntak’s head reconnected with the wall.

“You are acting like a sore fucking loser, Geum Seongje.” Hyuntak forced himself to open his eyes wide, staring at the one holding him pressed and caged like he wanted to tear his throat out with his teeth. “I thought you stopped caring about me years ago.”

“Me? You’re telling me I was the one who stopped caring?” Seongje spat out the words like they stung him. “I don’t recall things going the way you’re saying, Hyuntak-ah.”

“How the fuck don’t you?!” Hyuntak was going to lose it, old wounds reopening with each sentence he was going to utter. “I saw you there, that night. I saw you looking at me like I never meant anything to you. Did you forget?”

“I’ll never forget that night.” Seongje’s voice came out levelled, emotionless. There it was.

“I fucking bet you won’t. Did you love the sound my knee made when Na Baekjin brought his foot down like a hammer?! Do you still hear my screams like I do everytime I close my eyes?!”

“Shut the fuck up, Go Hyuntak.”

It was his turn to say it now. “Make me.”

Seongje laughed, sounding fully insane and kind of sick of Hyuntak at the same time.

“Okay.”

A fist made contact with his guts three consecutive times in row, and before long Hyuntak was dropping to his knees as he held onto Seongje’s hips desperately. He felt hands on his arms and sides, dragging him up once more. Fingers softly cradled his cheeks for a moment and Hyuntak closed his eyes, the strength of his own body betraying him as his knees threatened to buckle beneath his weight. The right one ached.

He opened his eyes and all he had the chance to see was a fist flying his way to make contact with his face. A series of resonant thuds could be heard, Seongje hitting him once in the cheek, in the nose, in the mouth. Hyuntak felt blood trickling down the side of his face down his chin, his lips beginning to swell and bleed when he parted them in a desperate plea to catch some air.

Seongje wasn’t laughing, in fact the only sound Hyeontak could make out was the boy’s laboured breathing.

“Seongje-” He muttered out, breathy and in pain. “Why?”

Hyuntak fell down, back sliding against the residency walls. There were no more hands to hold him up.

Seongje was breathing hard, crouching by the opposite wall. 

“Why?” He laughed, sounding sore and strained compared to the usual melodic cadence it carried. “You have some fucking nerve.”

Hyuntak brought his fingers to where it hurt the most. They came off covered with blood. 

“I implied you left me, and you lost your shit.” Now it was Hyuntak’s turn to laugh. “You are fucking weird, man.”

“If you stopped talking about things you don’t understand, then maybe you wouldn’t be pissing me off like it’s an Olympic sport.”

“Then enlighten me.” Hyuntak shifted, falling forwards onto his hands. He inched closer towards Seongje, on all fours. He would have been embarrassed if he weren’t so jaded in their current situation. “Why the fuck do you get so fucking upset, huh?”

Seongje laughed, and Hyuntak realised he wasn’t wearing his glasses. He gazed up at the sky as his chest shook, but there was something sad about the sight.

“You replaced me like it was the easiest thing for you to do.” He stopped laughing, gaze still stuck on a solitary cloud suspended above their heads. “You really are fucking stupid sometimes, it gets tiring.”

“I never replaced you.” Hyuntak’s voice was calm and resolute, mind clear for the first time since yesterday. “All I ever did, Geum Seongje, was make another fucking friend.”

“A friend?” Seongje scoffed, licking his injured lip. “We both know that’s not true.”

“You’re delusional.”

“And you’re not escaping me so easily this time.”

Seongje put his hands behind himself, using the wall to push himself upwards. He gazed at Hyuntak below him, eyes sparking with a weird mirth to them. He was so complicated it was becoming impossible to understand him.

He started to leave Hyuntak behind in the alley, whose face and body ached from the relentless blows Seongje delivered with no mercy, as per usual. But the sight of him walking away after daring to imply Hyuntak was the one who abandoned him and not the other way around, a surge of rage hit his body and commandeered him to stand up so quickly, Seongje didn’t have the chance to turn around in time.

Hyuntak closed the distance in a blink, his foot going up and making contact with Seongje’s left temple. It marked true on the target, Seongje’s head hitting the wall from the impact. They both stumbled into each other in the narrow alley, bodies colliding painfully. Seongje caught Hyuntak involuntarily by reflex, but then he continued to hold him, unmoving as he struggled to catch his breath. The kick to the head seemed to disrupt his surroundings and he struggled to stand with a depleted Hyuntak in his arms, before he gave in and they collapsed together.

Seongje seemed shocked at what he saw, the same boy he just beat up not even five minutes ago had passed out after landing the hardest hit someone got on him in the longest time. His face was bruised and bloody, lip swelling more profusely with each minute, yet at the same time Hyuntak was so effortlessly beautiful. Seongje muttered a curse, moved to slowly stand up and grab Hyuntak’s legs to raise his upper body over Seongje’s shoulders. 

He slowly trudged inside the residence, calling for the owner lady from beneath the stairway, unaware that Hyuntak was still conscious.

The middle aged woman descended down, upset how loud he called out for her. She stopped in the middle of the staircase upon seeing them, beaten and bloody, staining her ugly linoleum flooring.

“Auntie, please help us.” Seongje faked the most vulnerable voice he could muster, most likely tossing a puppy eyed look her way to top the act off, Hyuntak was sure of it. 

“We got jumped, my friend and I. They thought we had money.” He readjusted so he could keep holding Hyuntak better. “Can’t even be safe during daylight hours now, it seems.”

Then, the perfect actor he felt like he was in that moment, Seongje’s knees buckled and he kneeled down in front of her, Hyuntak’s feet hitting the floor with a muffled thud from being lowered down so suddenly. Just as expected, the action made her panic and rush down the stairs, hurriedly taking her phone out and dialing the emergency services.

Hyuntak came to and passed out several times throughout the next thirty minutes, only vaguely remembering Seongje’s voice telling someone they didn’t want police to be involved, that they didn’t see the culprit and wouldn’t be able to identify them, all the while a warm hand was clasped over his as they drove in the ambulance car. Next thing he remembered was a nurse telling Seongje he had a concussion and will have to stay for monitoring, and as soon as she left the emergency room he promptly walked out, not even bothering to sneak.

He met Hyuntak’s eyes before pushing the doors open, but due to his grogginess and blurry vision he had no chance of knowing what kind of expression the other wore.

Hyuntak’s fever returned and his ribs were bruised, but there were no fractures or serious injuries. He also had a concussion, and they decided he should stay and be monitored for two days at the hospital. His mother was contacted, who was concerned but also upset because he seemed to have left his phone at home when he left the house. When he felt well enough to unlock it he scrolled through the notification bar; a dozen missed calls and texts littered the screen.

He was so insanely worn out the only thing Hyuntak managed to type out was a short message to the group chat consisting of himself, Humin, Juntae and Sieun. He said he was sorry and would like them to visit him if they make the time to do so. He felt odd, emotions towards certain people in his life which he deemed resolute and unchangeable began to crack, and he felt like he was betraying himself thinking every thought and committing every action he promised himself he wouldn’t do.

He felt disgusted, angry with himself. However, on the other hand a part of him felt exhilarated, as if someone took the chains wrapped around him and snapped them clean at the front, and all it was required of him to do was to now unwrap himself and set himself free.

Before closing his eyes and taking a well deserved nap, Hyuntak opened the contact list and scrolled to the letter B.

He unblocked Geum Seongje’s contact, toggled his phone on silent and closed his eyes.

Chapter Text

A slow, boring week had passed since the last time Hyuntak found himself in Seongje’s path.

The aftermath of their tense encounter had been anything but pleasant, having to explain to the police, hospital staff, his mother and his friends how it was just an unlucky coincidence someone tried to rob him and Hyuntak fought them, getting injured in the process. There was another person there, the guy who left the emergency room before having been admitted. Hyuntak lied, saying he had never met him before, furthest from the truth as it could have possibly been. And how of course the culprit wore a mask, neither seeing who it was that assaulted them. 

Surely there was no chance that Hyuntak and the mystery person hadn't fought each other, or anything like that, no robber ever being there in the first place.

He got released the next day, suffering injuries a little too minor to occupy a hospital bed, but he was sore and wounded enough to stay at home for a couple days.

He had gotten zero texts or signs of life from Seongje, even checking his social media pages every other day. Not that he messaged first or waited for a reply, or anything. Hyuntak didn’t know why he expected something, but deep down he felt parts of him unable to quench this thirst for the other boy, and he had a feeling it was mutual. He had no clue how this entire time Seongje was feeling betrayed, too, even if he couldn’t possibly understand how or why the boy came to such a conclusion. They had argued once, a final time before whatever remained of their companionship snapped, and they discarded it along with their emotions.

Hyuntak could even remember apologising for not understanding how Seongje felt about him spending so much time with Humin once they had gotten closer, which was apparently too fast for the boy’s liking. That difficult, last conversation they had seemed to have been the reason they stopped speaking for several months to come after, but it never felt like their bond had fully broken either. 

That was until the day Geum Seongje sided with Na Baekjin, and together they took away his future, shattering his world and almost breaking his mind with the horrible and unforgivable act they resorted to committing, merely to hurt Humin. It had never been about Hyuntak, but sometimes he wondered if he was wrong about that. Seongje’s unreadable gaze which graced his face that night having been imprinted into his memory, as well as Baekjin’s which was laced with badly concealed envy.

Now, Hyuntak had no idea where he and Seongje stood. He believed for the longest time both parties were capable of ignoring each other’s existence and getting on with their lives. But with each encounter, each glance, each brush of their knuckles on the other’s skin, something shifted in the air. There was a resolute uncertainty about it all, Hyuntak’s head hurting from even trying to understand it.

He leaned onto the door of his apartment, letting his back soak in the cool metal. He was there for about ten minutes, contemplating the dumb plan he concocted in his mind. It was Thursday afternoon, his last day of resting at home before he went back to school. He felt perfectly fine for days by that point, but his mother insisted he stay at home. Hyuntak felt terrible for worrying her like that, the trauma she must have over hospitals and himself getting injured. He had to be more careful for his mom’s sake.

Which was precisely why Hyuntak didn’t understand why he decided to go back to that ill begotten neighbourhood in search of Seongje.

There was this itch under his skin, a feeling he couldn’t get out of his head ever since he came to with a clear head on that hospital bed. For some reason Hyuntak didn’t feel sick being back in one of those foul, disinfectant smelling rooms. The weeks of visiting clinics for physiotherapy had made him somewhat immune to these places, so he was completely unconcerned whenever he found himself there. Although, the same thing couldn't be said for his mother and even some of his friends, so Hyuntak vowed to never end up back there over some stupid fight, ever again.

He pushed himself off, steps strong and stride confident. He vaguely remembered the direction he had to take as he took the stairs to the street level. It was still too early for the school day to be over, so Hyuntak hoped he would be quick enough to return before Humin or someone else decided to come visit him, or his mother came home from work. As Seongje was concerned, he couldn't picture the boy staying at school for the entire time it was mandatory to. He hoped he would be at his goshiwon, but there was no guarantee.

He put his headphones on, alt rock music setting the pace as he walked. The day was nice, warm and without a lick of wind. He glanced at his hand, the tiny burn scar marking his middle finger. He wanted to flip Seongje off with it, but maybe not today. The plan was to talk to him, if possible without punches or kicks involved. Or so one could only hope.

It took him twenty minutes before he saw the familiar building rising over the smaller ones surrounding it, sticking out like a sore thumb. It was brown and mediocre, albeit well built and not too old. The faded sign by the entrance read that they were booked for the foreseeable future. The double sided doors were fully open and held back by wooden stopboards, and Hyuntak saw a little lounge area on the side consisting of a couch, two cushioned chairs and a coffee table cluttered with dated magazines.

He pocketed his headphones and walked inside, glancing at the mailboxes Seongje was busy scouring in hopes they would be labelled with names beside the room number, but that was a stupid thing to think. Obviously for privacy reasons, these residences went against doing such a thing, the slots only having numbers on them and nothing else besides a small key hole.

Hyuntak sighed, looking up the stairwell. The inside of the building was coloured in mint shades, from the walls down to the white-green lined tiles. There was an echo to his footsteps as he climbed up, hoping he wouldn’t look like an idiot once he actually ran into somebody. He made his way to the first floor which seemed to serve as the kitchen, dining room and rest area. There was a receptionist lobby on the right side, and he walked up to it, gently knocking on the glass partition. Nobody was inside.

“Hey, kid!” 

A voice called to him, somewhere from behind him. Hyuntak turned around, spotting a middle aged man with a cigarette peering out from the communal balcony.

“Did you see my smoke buddy?” He took a long drag, squinting his eyes at Hyuntak. “He’s your age, that asshole.”

“Huh?” He hurriedly walked closer, spotting the fence with an ashtray balanced on it and a pair of miss matched chairs. The man looked at him with a curious expression, almost as if he was trying to piece something together. Hyuntak didn’t like being perceived in this manner, so he decided to speak to interrupt the moment. “Does he wear glasses by chance?”

“Yes, he does.” He took a long puff before putting the cigarette out, miraculously not tipping the ashtray over. He blew the smoke out of his nose. “Are you two friends?”

“Who? Him and I?” Hyuntak made a bewildered sound. “No, it’s not like that. Is he here, though, sir?”

The man lit another cigarette, laughing and pointing his hand towards him, smoke billowing towards his eyes from the motion. “You kids, always with the push-and-pull friendships.”

“It’s not like that.” Hyuntak repeated.

“Sure, you little prick.” He smiled, and Hyuntak immediately got the vibe he was one of those problematic uncles who let you drink and teach you to drive when you could barely reach the pedals. “He’s probably in his room. 212, upstairs on the left.”

Hyuntak was astonished, surprised how easy getting that information was. He bowed his head slightly. “Thank you, sir.”

He retreated back inside, but froze in his footsteps when the man yelled after him.

“Don’t kick him in the head this time.”

He turned around, a shocked expression on his face while the man merely laughed and waved him off. 

He shook his head and continued on, trying to ignore the undeniable fact Seongje talked to some stranger about him. Why would he do something like that, Hyuntak didn’t know. Trying to forget about it and failing as he ascended to the second floor, a light breeze hit his face. One of the doors was ajar, a window probably open on the inside for it to create such a draft. He inched closer to it, ears picking up on soft keyboard clicks of somebody typing. 

“Ah, I need a cigarette.”

A familiar voice, slightly raspier since the last time. Hyuntak perked up upon hearing it, gaining a newfound confidence to walk up to the entrance of the room, push the door further open with his foot, and lean on it.

“Hey, what the-” Seongje paused, having risen halfway from a squat. He looked at Hyuntak up and down, as if his eyes were fooling him. “Am I dreaming, or something?”

“You dream of me often, you moron?”

Hyuntak’s words had little bite to them, the provocation merely out of habit. His eyes followed Seongje’s before he was standing at his full height, slightly taller now. He put his hands in the pockets of that tacky jacket he loved so much, playing cool. But he was taken off guard by Hyuntak’s sudden presence.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He smirked, faking the smile because it didn’t reach his eyes. Or maybe he was just upset, another likely scenario.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” 

Hyuntak stood his ground, staring Seongje down. Part of him hoped the other boy would squirm beneath his attention, but no such thing happened. Instead, he licked his lips one time, gaze sliding all over Hyuntak’s features as if the encounter was a prank and he was looking for the hidden camera.

“Aww, Gotak-ie is here for me?” He took a step closer, the silence interrupted by the whirr of his laptop on the tiny desk. “Want payback or what, because I’ll gladly put you in the hospital for the second time.”

“Third.”

“What?”

Now it was Hyuntak’s turn to take a step forward, entering Seongje’s personal space. There was barely any room on each side of them, like two animals trapped in a cage. Which was prey, which hunter, that was yet to be decided.

“You don’t count it, do you?”

He was met with silence, paired with a deadly glare. “Is this why you’re here? Your little trip to the hospital brought back all the memories or some cringe shit like that?”

“Nope.” Hyuntak accentuated the word, amused. “I don’t give a damn. You upset my mother again, though.”

“Again?” 

“Mhm.” He hummed. “She hates it when I get hurt, I wonder why?”

Seongje stayed silent, not out of shame or even boredom. He was studying Hyuntak, trying to decipher what prompted this conversation and why he even showed up at his goshiwon. His expression read he was failing to solve the equation that was the boy standing in front of him.

Their staredown got interrupted by a set of footsteps coming from right outside, what sounded like a click of heels. Hyuntak figured it must have been the owner lady, given this floor had to have been for men only.

“Shit.” Seongje muttered and in a swift motion pulled Hyuntak inside by the shoulder. As fast as it happened, he closed the door. “She makes all visitors sign some shitty form.”

Hyuntak found himself chest pressed onto Seongje’s. He had to move his head to the side to speak. “And?”

The older boy still leaned on the door he held shut with one hand next to Hyuntak’s head, putting them in an odd situation.

“I don’t want her to know you’re here.” He then took a step back, the pocket of air Seongje’s body occupied suddenly cold, almost as if he could reach out and touch it, icy. “Not until I know why you came.”

Now that the door was closed the room felt eerily still, almost unreal. It was untidy, but clean, stuffy by design, but the open window helped. Seongje’s silver chain necklace was neatly placed on the small wardrobe drawer which was stuffed with clothes and kept open to serve as an extra mini desk. There were two unopened packs of cigarettes laid out next to it as well. 

The bed was on Hyuntak’s left, desk on his right. And Geum Seongje in front. 

“You want to know why I came?”

Seongje snorted. “Obviously.”

“And why couldn't I wonder that when I ran into you in my neighbourhood? Or when you were sitting on my couch?”

“You're not answering my question.”

“Wow, Seongje.” Hyuntak’s eyes turned provocative. “After all the stalking you've done, I can't just show up and pay you a visit?”

Seongje laughed, an exasperated sound escaping his lips as he looked up to the ceiling. 

“Since when were you this bold?”

“I thought we knew each other well, Seongje-yah.”

Hyuntak was indeed feeling bold, revelling in a long lost dynamic they used to share at times, especially by the end of things. He loved seeing Seongje clench his jaw as he most definitely debated whether to punch him or not. His eyes settled down on him as if he was silently telling him to go on and test him further.

Hyuntak obliged.

“I guess it’s not fun for you when I come to you, and you’re not the one chasing me.” He shrugged, riding the high of this encounter.

Seongje was playing with his tongue on the inside of his mouth, eyebrows scrunched. He seemed to have realised Hyuntak wouldn’t stop.

“Who knows.” He smirked. “Maybe this is what I had planned all along.”

“Bullshit.”

“Maybe so.” He had less words to say than usual, it seemed.

Seongje reached out faster than Hyuntak could react and grabbed him by the collar with one hand, bringing them back close again.

“What games are you playing with me, Hyuntak?”

“I thought you loved to game, or was I wrong?”

“And since when were you a game, you motherfucker.”

Hyuntak smiled, happily coming to the conclusion he upset Seongje quite enough he would stop making snarky comments. It was satisfying. “I thought I was your playmate?”

“For fucks sake.”

Another hand followed the first, both now tangled in the hoodie below Hyuntak’s neck. His back hit the door with a soft thud.

“Stop driving me insane, Go Hyuntak.”

The boy in Seongje’s hold smiled triumphantly.

“And what are you going to do about it?”

Everything froze in the following moments, the only sound audible enough was their quickened breaths, one exhilarated, other frustrated. Or that was how Hyuntak saw it, at least. Getting into Seongje’s head was always a difficult task for him, but that’s why it used to be so fun hanging around him. The unpredictability was its own kind of rush.

“If you came here to provoke me into another fight, I’ll happily oblige.”

“What crawled up your ass and died?” Hyuntak teased.

The hands grasping his hoodie tightened. “You fucking-”

A heel paused by his door. They could both sense someone touching the door knob.

“Hey, kid from 212, Seongje-yah?”

Seongje sighed, a wave of annoyance passing through his expression.

“Mhm, auntie, what is it?”

The doors moved, and Seongje pushed it back, Hyuntak along with it, who bit his lip as they both slammed bodies doing so.

“Ah, auntie, I’m not dressed.” He made his voice cheery, and it was so horribly fake it was laughable. “What’s wrong?”

“Ah, nothing, nothing.” Hyuntak imagined her waving her hands. “It’s just, you know it's a rule, don’t you? Speak on the phone outside or downstairs, the walls are thin.”

“I forgot and picked up the call out of habit.” Seongje’s nose bridge almost knocked into Hyuntak’s forehead. “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again!” 

Upon witnessing this, Hyuntak could barely hold his composure and he began giggling, seconds away from a full on buoyant laughter, which Seongje noticed and hurriedly removed one hand from his shoulder to put it over his mouth, shutting him up. However he didn’t account for the fact that the action would make Hyuntak grunt, and the tell tale click of the heels stopped once again.

They were suspended in that moment together, pressed against the goshiwon door until thirty seconds later, the footsteps receded, the hallway once again quiet. Both of them stilled, breathing in sync. One could swear their heartbeats followed the same melody, too.

They avoided each other’s gazes for another second longer, and once their eyes met the atmosphere shifted. There was this spark surrounding them, almost as electricity could be heard audibly crackling in the air around them. Hyuntak’s giggles were long forgotten, and he was busy looking into those unflinching eyes. The stare continued to last for minutes, maybe three, maybe five. 

It was not a luxury Seongje offered to anyone, but Hyuntak seemed to be the exception.

“Fuck this.”

Without warning or time for Hyuntak to even realise what was happening, Seongje looked to the side and grabbed him by the shoulders again, except this time he got tossed down onto the bed in the direction of Seongje’s gaze. It creaked. Seongje was on top of him, pinning his hands down into the cheap mattress. His hair fell around his face, cradling his features, his glasses absolutely unmoving despite how fast he tackled them into this position.

Hyuntak’s voice got caught in his throat, somehow this was not something he expected.

He actually came here to talk, curious if Seongje would admit how he perceived the events of the past, them splitting up, friendship completely falling apart. But despite his best efforts, or lack thereof, Hyuntak ended up provoking Seongje instead. Ending up pinned beneath him wasn’t how he imagined things would go, though.

“Finally fucking silent, are you?”

Seongje’s breath smelled of toothpaste this time, minty and cooling as his breath drifted down and onto Hyuntak’s face.

The boy above him continued, his legs partly pinning down Hyuntak’s. His knees were untouched, however.

“Did you get what you wanted, pissing me off?”

“I didn’t come here to piss you off.”

Seongje leaned down, lips brushing the shell of Hyuntak’s ear. “Then you have shit self control, Tak-ah.”

Hyuntak jerked as if someone microdosed him with an ounce of anger. “It can’t be helped when your picture comes up when you google the word annoyance.”

“Funny.” He moved away from Hyuntak’s face, gazing down at him again. “And you want me to believe you came here for something else.”

“Yes.” Hyuntak breathed, slightly labored. “I came here for you.”

“How romantic.” Seongje spit the words out, doused in sarcasm. “Won’t even let me recover from you.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

“You kicked me in the head hard, asshole.”

“And?” Hyuntak huffed out, flexing his hands beneath the tight hold. His wrists burned. “Didn’t you leave perfectly fine.”

“Perfectly fine, my ass.” One of Seongje’s thumbs absentmindedly caressed Hyuntak’s skin. Then he tightened the grip, making him hiss in pain. “I had a concussion, maybe worse than yours.”

“Fuck, let go.” The bed creaked some more, sounding a little obscene given their current predicament. “Did you fall asleep with it, or something?”

“No, you idiot, that’s a fucking myth.” He sighed, chest shaking from amusement. “You spend too much time with that moron.”

Hyuntak tried to kneel Seongje in the balls.

“Hey, easy now, princess.” He readjusted himself on top of Hyuntak, making it harder to move or escape.

Hyuntak bristled, face heating up from anger. “What did you just call me?”

“Shut up, Hyuntak.” He laughed, warm and pleasant. Odd. “I just meant I had a really fucking hard time for a little bit.”

“So? You want me to say I’m sorry.”

“No.” Seongje shook his head. The tables have been flipped now, and Hyuntak wasn’t the one leading the little mental assault. “I want you to tell me why you’re here.”

“Fuck you.”

“You will find that difficult to do from your position, Tak-ah.” He leaned down, faces a breath apart. “Me, on the other hand.”

Hyuntak was now properly angry, angry with himself for coming here in the first place.

“You’re regretting it now, aren’t you?” Perceptive as ever, he was. “Just spill it.”

“Let me go, and maybe I will.”

Seongje laughed, and it was the most annoying sound. Then he did something Hyuntak didn’t see coming, and he let go, sitting up and leaning back on the bed. He was sitting on Hyuntak’s shins now, casual as ever.

Unpredictable, of course.

Hyuntak scrambled up to get himself a little higher, stuck holding himself up on his elbows because Seongje pressed all of his weight onto his legs. He didn’t seem interested in moving, so Hyuntak conceded, giving up.

“Fine.”

“What was that?”

“Die.”

Seongje leaned a little forward, fluttering his eyelashes mockingly. They were long behind the glasses. “Talk, Hyuntak.”

So he did, starting with questions he wanted answers to instead of simply telling Seongje his reasoning. Why should he even get the courtesy of knowing, anyways.

“What did you mean by me replacing you?”

The older boy shook his head, pointing his fingers in Hyuntak’s direction. “Really, is Baku’s stupidity contagious or something?”

“Answer me.”

“No.” He pouted. Literally, pouted. “Stop asking obvious shit.”

Hyuntak sighed, running his hands over his face. “Baku wasn’t your replacement, Seongje.”

“No?” He nodded, one too many times. “You spent all of your waking hours with him, meanwhile I struggled to find a single person I liked at Ganghak.”

“And? Did you find anyone by now?”

Seongje snorted, unamused. “No.”

“Some of them follow you around.” Hyuntak protested.

“Exactly.” Their eyes met. “Fucking sheep, nothing more.”

Hyuntak tried to free his legs. He failed, the boy sitting on his legs now staring at him without blinking.

“Go Hyuntak.”

“What?”

Seongje stood up, dusting his sweatpants. “You should leave.”

“Huh?”

“Leave.”

Hyuntak was sitting down, confused. He fiddled with the hands which were now in his lap. Fucking Geum Seongje, always making him feel confused.

“You’re so fucking weird.” He was becoming pissed off, an unavoidable side effect. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“With me?” He began unwrapping the cellophane on his Marlboro Reds. “You are in my room. Intruding. Leave.”

“No.”

Hyuntak stood up and walked over to the other boy, snatching the cigarette pack out of his hands and tossing it aside. It bounced off the wall, falling someplace behind the desk.

“Stop being so fucking confusing.” He grabbed his hand and refused to let go. “You are so annoying, Geum Seongje.”

“The feeling is mutual.” Seongje used his free hand to grab the one limply laying by Hyuntak’s side.

They looked like two ridiculous puzzle pieces.

“Why do you want me to leave so suddenly? Sick of my face or something?”

“Ever so perceptive.”

“So is that why you did it that night?”

The hold on Hyuntak’s wrist tightened. “You’re insane.”

“Yeah, I hurt you, so you repaid me the only way you knew.”

“Shut the fuck up, for your own good.” Seongje’s hands shook slightly. There was a wind now blowing softly outside, the weather changing as much as the temperature in the room seemed to go up.

“Are you warning me?” Hyuntak whispered, voice getting lost in the space between them.

“Mhm.” Seongje hummed, eyes dropping to his lips, then his eyes, then his lips again, unable to look away, gaze trapped as if somebody wrapped barbed wire around it.

Hyuntak thought time had stopped altogether, nothing remaining in the world but the two of them, inexplicably bound together.

It was unsure who moved first, maybe it was Seongje, maybe Hyuntak. It would have been a millisecond of a difference, anyways. When one moved to cross the tiny bit of space separating them, the other followed as if they were connected.

Their lips smashed together almost angrily, teeth into teeth as Hyuntak grunted in pain. He recovered almost immediately, hungrily latching onto Seongje with his mouth while the other wasted no time, kissing as if man possessed. Their hands were still in each other’s hold, fingers intertwining as they held onto one another like a lifeline. They fought for dominance while changing angles of their kiss, but once Seongje’s tongue parted his lips and Hyuntak moaned in his mouth, it was clear who won.

They treated it like a game, the incessant flicks of their tongues, the hungry bites, the breathless moans. The room felt too small and too hot as they let go of each other’s hands to grab elsewhere, Seongje aiming straight for Hyuntak’s waist. He gripped him hard, almost as if he wanted to dot him with bruises all over his hips, meanwhile Hyuntak desperately clung to his neck, hands occasionally twirling and pulling at his hair. He grabbed his glasses and tossed them aside, eardrums so blown he didn’t even hear where they landed.

They moved, stumbling over their feet before they fell onto the pitiful bed. The sheets smelled like Seongje, ocean body wash and cigarettes, and Hyuntak felt every inch of his body vibrate with an uncontrollable desire. He didn’t understand what he was feeling at the moment, but he also didn’t particularly care. He just wanted more, more of these touches, more of these kisses.

Seongje made a greedy noise as he pulled on Hyuntak’s bottom lip with his teeth, nipping it slightly before it got the younger boy’s attention and he opened his eyes. Seongje stared at him with an unreadable, fevered gaze and once he made sure his attention was fully on him, he bit his lip hard until it bled. Hyuntak winced, eyes going wide and blood rushing to his brain for that astonishing moment. He was about to protest, maybe even try to stop this from continuing, but then Seongje did the unthinkable again.

He waited before his lips got bloodied enough, and once he was satisfied with the amount he tipped Hyuntak’s head back so he could begin leaving sloppy, bloody kisses all over his jaw. He let his tongue trail down his neck, leaving wet kisses over his adams apple, before going even lower and latching onto his collarbones, fighting with the collar of the hoodie. Hyuntak’s head hit the thin pillow as he let the boy on top of him have even better access to his body, muscles aching in wanton desire.

Seongje’s hands trailed below the hem, desperate to get the hoodie off as if it was a grave enemy he swore to finish. He pulled it over his head, making an annoyed noise when there was another shirt to be found underneath. However the fabric was thinner, and Seongje’s hot breath fanning over his skin through it made Hyuntak’s vision spin. He felt as if he was delirious, high on the drug that was Seongje, unable to think of anything else but how his mouth felt pressed against his body.

One of his hands began moving at a painfully slow pace over his torso, playing with his undershirt and leaving featherlight touches as he moved along, smiling each time Hyuntak shivered or moved beneath his touches. It started driving Hyuntak insane, and he failed to suppress a moan. The sound made Seongje’s head jerk up, pupils blown wide, lips swollen and tinged red with Hyuntak’s blood. The sight felt unreal, wild, unacceptable. And sexy, so much so Hyuntak felt tense in many, many places on his body.

They kissed again, this time slightly slower, more sensual, but starving nonetheless. The bed then creaked for that same reason one would usually assume what was happening upon hearing it, filthy and slightly juvenile. It was something out of a sitcom, or some horribly written movie that wanted to portray sex by making you listen to some annoying bed noises.

The sloppy kisses went on for some time before they were forced to seperate, gasping for air. Their joint stamina was pretty good, coming useful in this scenario, but even they had to breathe. After keeping still for a moment, he blissfully enjoyed the weight of Seongje’s body laid out on his, the other boy admiring his handiwork as they rested. Hyuntak’s lip was hurt and bleeding, swollen from both the aftermath of the bite and the ravaging kisses, cheeks flushed, short hair sweaty and messy, sticking out in as many directions as its length permitted. Seongje looked at him like he was the most beautiful thing.

That wasn’t the first time he looked at him in such a manner. Not even the second.

Hyuntak was about to speak, at the moment not even sure what it was he wanted to say in the first place, but he was interrupted by a series of rapid knocks on the door.

Seongje sighed, letting his head fall onto Hyuntak’s chest.

“Geum Seongje, you brat!” The residence owner practically screamed, the sheer volume proving this place truly had zero sound isolation, making sense why she was so angry. “Did you bring somebody in there to mess around with, huh?! Open the door right now, or I’ll evict you!”

“Fucks sake.” Seongje muttered, reluctantly sliding off Hyuntak and standing up.

Hyuntak panicked when he saw Seongje opening the door a crack, and peeking out.

“It’s not what you think, auntie, rather my friend and I fought a little.” He tried to pull off an apologetic voice, but it didn’t seem convincing enough.

Seongje then stepped outside, trying to converse with her. Hyuntak realised he was giving him the opportunity to put his discarded item of clothing back on, and probably fix his appearance while he was at it. As he did so, he managed to make out something of the conversation: the end of this week, the payment, and packing his things.

“Fuck.” Hyuntak muttered.

Did he just make Geum Seongje homeless? 

Surely, there were enough places with rooms to book, but this one looked particularly nice, all things considered. It seemed Seongje even had somebody to talk to. 

Why did Hyuntak care in the first place?

The door opened and a grim Seongje walked in, no glasses, disheveled hair. His face looked as if it would be hot to the touch.

“Get out.”

Hyuntak stood there, a little dizzy, a little shocked. Then, his brain slowly kicked in. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Seongje sounded surprised as he echoed Hyuntak’s answer in the form of a question. “You’re not going to ask why?”

“Walls are indeed thin here, so…”

They stood a small distance apart, as much as the room allowed for. Hyuntak suddenly felt insanely awkward and self conscious, and he hurriedly moved to walk past Seongje. He was stopped by the boy grabbing his forearm and whispering in his ear.

“This isn’t over.”

Seongje let him go, crouching down to reach his glasses. Before he could put them on, Hyuntak made sure to be out of the cramped space, rushing downstairs. He tried to be fast enough as to not be seen, but he stopped in his tracks when an interesting conversation reached his ears. It was the owner chatting up the smoker guy, rambling and making angry motions with her hands. She mentioned how upset she was Seongje brought a boy over, how she would have to wash the sheets herself. The man was attempting to calm her and stop her from saying some actually hateful things, but Hyuntak scurried off before he could hear any more.

Seongje’s opened window was right above that balcony, though.

He picked up his pace, patting himself down for his phone he remembered to bring this time. No notifications and only an hour passed since he left the house. He thought that was good, feet moving purely on the remnants of whatever energy he seemed to still have within his veins. He felt weird, replaying the last twenty minutes or so in his head. Maybe it was longer, he couldn’t be sure.

He was thirsty, so he decided to stop by a convenience store to grab something refreshing, and maybe something to eat. He walked inside, annoyed there was no ventilation and the air felt stale as he walked around, scurrying the aisles. Once he found what he was looking for, he circled around towards the register. But something caught Hyuntak’s eye; his reflection in one of the fridge’s glass doors.

His neck, dotted with blooming lilac spots, at least three or four of them.

“That fucking asshole.”

And with that image of his reflection in mind, he fully came to his senses and realised what he had just done.

He made out with Seongje. They made out properly, hungrily, as if they wanted each other for years. Their lips met countless times in so little time, perfectly in sync, melting into one another. For a moment it felt they shared even their bones, let alone their minds.

Hyuntak surely lost his shit in the end, after all.

He practically almost took it further with Seongje, the most hated person in his life. The one person he shouldn’t stand to look at, let alone kiss.  

But then why did he come seeking him out?

Why did he return the kiss? Or was he the first one to initiate it?

Had Go Hyuntak gone and fully lost his mind?

Chapter Text

Hyuntak woke up in a cold sweat twenty minutes before his alarm was supposed to go off. 

He slept like shit, restless and tangled about the weirdest dreams with no substance or obvious meaning, filled with faces, laughter, screams. 

He peeled himself away from his covers and trudged into the living room, careful not to make too much noise opening doors or slamming the fridge. His mother worked until late for a couple of days in a row, so Hyuntak made sure to stay quiet in the mornings before school in such times. 

He scratched his head, walking with his eyes closed and holding onto sheer faith to his knowledge in where everything was placed. He wanted to brush his teeth first, each time he scrubbed his tongue being reminded of what he allowed to happen just days ago. 

Surely something hijacked his mind, puppeteering his limbs like a sick video game, or a bad visual novel the player was trying to achieve a bad ending in. The course of events which happened back at the goshiwon residence made absolutely no sense to Hyuntak’s mind. 

Yet looking back to it, it wasn't like he hated it. Sure, bile rose to the back of his throat at the mere thought of Seongje’s presence enveloping him wholly, bodies pressed close. But some part of him, deep down, knew he enjoyed whatever had happened. 

Admitting that to himself however, was an entirely different thing. 

Groggy and a little nauseous, Hyuntak opened the fridge in search of some water. He sighed as the cool liquid seemed to aid him some, feeling slightly better. He debated laying back down again in favour of getting ready early, but perhaps fiddling with his phone and playing some games will improve his mood. 

He went back to his room to retrieve it, and with little surprise he found Humin to already be awake, spamming him with poorly angled pictures of the morning sky. He hearted some, replied to others saying they're blurry, and as soon as the messages were shown to be seen, Hyuntak’s phone rang. 

He picked up on the first ring. 

“Hey.”

“Gotak, what's up?!” His friend sounded cheerful, and a little out of breath. 

“You training?”

“Yeah.” There was a sound of him dropping something. “Why are you awake, Gogo?”

Hyuntak shrugged even if Humin couldn't see him. 

“Just woke up before my alarm, annoying.”

“Wanna come? Bring your bag so we can go to school after.”

And so Hyuntak found himself standing in the comfortable autumn breeze, watching Humin dribble and hit every shot with terrifying ease. His stamina looked far from depleted and it made for a good distraction, watching him play basketball as if nothing else existed. Hyuntak noticed he would do this more often since Baekjin’s funeral, was it a way to cope or get his mind off of it, he couldn't be sure. 

The time to leave slowly neared, so Hyuntak yelled out for his best friend. “Don't you think we should go?!”

“Huh?!” He caught the ball and placed it beneath one arm, balancing it above his hip. “It's time already?”

Humin walked over to where Hyuntak was sitting, slapping his shoulder in a reassuring manner. He knew Hyuntak was feeling off and sensed the boy wouldn't share why quite yet, so he opted to just be there for him, silently offering support. 

Hyuntak nodded, standing up, a little embarrassed how badly he always hid how he felt from Humin, but isn't that what best friends can always sense?

They walked in silence, comfortable and warm as the morning seemed to be in full swing by then. Their steps fell into the same rhythm as scooters drove by, booming voices reaching their ears as they approached the school building. They arrived a little early, sun bouncing off the large windows and into Hyuntak’s eyes. He mumbled a curse as he squinted, and before he had the chance to react, Humin was dragging him inside and away from the horrible brightness.

“You daydreaming, man?” Humin’s voice was teasing. “Almost hit the doors there.”

“Shit, sorry.” He rubbed the back of his head, not wanting to meet Humin’s eyes. “I think I’m still sleepy, is all.”

“Whatever you say, Gotak.”

Humin slapped him on the back hard, making him jerk from the impact. Before Hyuntak could protest, however, he was brought in close by the shoulders and so they walked towards their classroom together, Humin’s arm around him in a bear-like grip.

They sat at their respective desks, Hyuntak ahead of Humin. They were in their last year now, which always felt weird to him. It was as if it was only yesterday he enrolled, annoyed that he couldn’t get selected for Ganghak instead. Now, he thought he wouldn’t change a thing, despite everything.

The day went by in a daze for Hyuntak, each time he closed his eyes he thought he could smell Seongje, his presence enveloping him all over, when all he should be sensing around him were sweaty school boys and their shitty rubber soles. He felt not even a minute went by without some thought forming about his old friend, whether he reminisced of how his fists felt hitting his face, or how their lips met as if nothing else in the world mattered.

He wore a turtleneck today, one Humin made fun of him for when they met up earlier, saying how it’s not that cold yet. If only he knew what lay beneath; bruises, marks, bites, dotting him like some fucked up, starry sky. Hyuntak even tried taking some of his mom’s make up and covering them up, but it only made them pop out more against his pale skin, turning yellowish beneath the foundation. Now he would have to skip basketball practice and make up some excuse on how he wasn’t feeling well, which wasn’t far from the truth if he were to be honest with himself.

But when was ever Hyuntak honest with himself, especially when it pertained to Geum Seongje.

He let his head hit the desk beneath him, a small thud accompanying the motion. The professor in the room seemed oblivious, keeping his back to the board so he could finish with the lesson for his own sake, uncaring of his students. It used to annoy Hyuntak, how Eunjang High and its employees chose to just let it stay the rundown, delinquent school. You could still do well, grades wise, Sieun being the living proof, but that was because of all the work he put into his studies since long ago, and the cram school he attended. Just by coming to this school, however, you weren’t being given many chances to learn as you might have somewhere else.

Hyuntak wasn’t too bothered about it back when he was an aspiring athlete, taekwondo opening doors for him, the abundance of scholarships and programs the future he thought was promised to him.

But there is no such thing in life, nothing is promised to you, nothing is owed to you. You aren’t privileged to get anything for free, or with hard work. Someone could bring their foot down onto your knee the one time, and everything you thought would be yours, gone. Forever changed, forever different.

He sighed, his own breath fanning back over his cheeks as it bounced off the wooden desk. He could feel Humin’s gaze on him, choosing to ignore it and stay unmoving, forehead aching. He stayed in that position until the bell rang and chairs scraped loudly around him. They had basketball practice left which he dreaded, especially seeing how excited his best friend was. He mentioned Juntae and Sieun would come by to watch them play.

Being unable to wallow in his misery for a second longer, Hyuntak abruptly stood up, scaring some student that tried to cut across next to his desk. He was too worn out to spare them a glance or an apology, simply grabbing his bag off the floor and moving out of the classroom.

“Hey, Humin-ah.” He called out, his friend already halfway down the stairs.

“Oh, Gotak, what’s up? You feeling okay?” Perceptive as ever.

“No, not at all. That’s why I need you to tell the coach I had to skip.”

“Huh? Want me to come with you? I can-”

Hyuntak sighed, now genuinely feeling nauseous. “Baku, please. Just- I’m only a little sick to my stomach.” He ascended the stairs so they could see eye to eye. “I promise I will call you later, I just want to go home right now.”

He saw a small array of emotions pass through his best friend’s expression. Some of it was worry, some of it genuine compassion, and one he couldn’t pick up on. The moment passed as quickly as it came, before Humin turned to his supportive, loud self, hugging him a little too tightly and muttering how he needs to go get some sleep and how cute he was. He ruffled Hyuntak’s head and accompanied him to the school exit.

“If you don’t call me, I will find you.” Humin laughed mischievously. “That’s not a promise, but a threat!”

“Don’t you mean-”

“Bye bye, Gotak!”

And so he scurried off, jogging towards the clubroom and leaving Hyuntak by himself at the slowly emptying school yard.

He shook his head, a small smile escaping onto his lips. He was grateful for his friends, truly, he had no idea where he would be in life if it weren’t for them. Even if being friends with some of them at times brought more bad than good, it wasn’t their fault. Hyuntak understood that, and he always would in the times to come. Now, he needed to pick himself up and stop feeling sorry for himself.

He walked off, resolute and bold now, aiming to erase Seongje fully from his mind. 

However he didn’t even come halfway to his home before his phone buzzed in his pocket. The vibration annoyed him, he forgot to turn it off after school so he fiddled with the phone as the sensation sent shivers through his palms. He didn’t even glance at the caller ID before picking it up.

“Hello?”

“And here I thought you wouldn’t answer.”

Seongje, of course. Why wouldn’t it be him right now, of all the people who could have called Hyuntak.

“What the fuck?”

A snicker could be heard from the other end. “Ah, you didn’t even look at who it was, did you?”

Hyuntak felt the little energy that remained within him depleting, exiting his body the more he listened to the voice on the other end. “What do you want, Seongje?”

“What do I want? Now if I were honest, I’d spook you away, scuttering off like a little cat.” His voice was annoyingly playful. “Meet me, I’ll send you the location.”

“The fuck?! No.”

“You owe me.” All the playfulness was gone now. “You made me go homeless, Go Hyuntak.”

“You’re used to it.” Hyuntak bit back, annoyed. “You wouldn’t have been kicked out if you didn’t, didn’t-”

“Hmm? Didn’t what?”

“Shut the fuck up.” He exhaled loudly, frustrated, cheeks burning. “It wasn’t my fault.”

“Sure thing, let’s say it was both of ours.” He could hear Seongje click his tongue. “Tell you what, you meet me right now and I won’t tell any of your friends what hides beneath that turtleneck you’re wearing.”

“Huh?! Are you-”

He got interrupted by Seongje’s laughter, full and melodic, filtering through the speakerphone like a cursed melody. “I’m not stalking you, promise.”

“If you can see me right now, I swear I will wipe that smirk I know you’re wearing clean off your face.”

“Don’t flirt.” Hyuntak could hear cars passing by on Seongje’s end. There were none here. “You forget I know you too well, Hyuntak-ie. Of course you would wear a turtleneck to hide the little gifts I left you with.”

“Bold to call them that.”

“Just come, don’t be difficult.” He paused, silent for several seconds. “Wait, don’t hang up.”

Hyuntak paused, confused. He could faintly hear rustling and movement, albeit too quiet so he put the call on speaker and turned up the volume to the max. It was then that it was evident it was Seongje picking up his pace, getting away from wherever he was at.

“You’re wasting my time. I’m hanging up.”

No response, and then he heard it. A deep voice yelled out the name belonging to his ex friend, followed by several others yelling profanities. Hyuntak didn’t like the sound of it.

“Seongje?”

Voice slightly out of breath, the boy on the other end replied. “You know what, nevermind. I have to sort this out.”

“Sort what out? Where are you?”

“I’m not telling you that.”

Hyuntak’s temples hurt. “You were just going to send me your fucking location.”

“And now I’m not anymore.”

The yells now turned into screams, and he could hear running. “Geum Seongje.”

The call ended, two beeps signaling it’s over. 

Exasperated, Hyuntak ran a palm across his face. He fiddled with the phone, sending a location request to Seongje. Nothing, no reply. It said it was pending, sitting dully in their chat. There was a feeling deep in his stomach, something akin to worry. He played it off to being hungry.

He decided to keep walking home, the situation Seongje was in was simply out of his hands, nothing to be done about it. Besides, he was probably getting a well deserved beating after messing with someone he shouldn’t have. But the voice sounded too grown, too adult. He knew Seongje liked to play with fire, but it was usually kept for his own generation. He couldn't imagine him meddling between thugs, or worse.

He could vaguely remember the rumours he heard about the Union, now that he thought about it. Something about real gangsters being the ones pulling the strings behind the scenes through Na Baekjin. Some of his classmates even whispered about Seongje getting offered the same deal. Obviously, that had to have been a lie, or Seongje didn’t take it.

He reached his building, having walked faster than usual, movements stressed as he kept rerunning the conversation in his head. He stopped caring about whatever it was Seongje wanted from him when he first picked up, the yells the only thing on his mind. He unlocked his apartment doors, walking inside and kicking his shoes off. His mother didn’t seem to be home. Perhaps she was grocery shopping or getting coffee with her friend. He liked it when she did that, always coming home relaxed after whoever they gossiped.

He didn’t even make it to the kitchen before a sound interrupted his movements. A small ping could be heard from his pants pocket where his phone was.

Seongje accepted the location request.

There were no other messages, simply that single notification. Hyuntak frowned, cursing through his breath. He ditched his bag, hurriedly grabbing his spare from the hallway hanger. It was smaller, not always good enough for school, but it should be okay right now when all he planned to bring were some bandages and water. He slid into the very same sneakers and took off, almost forgetting to lock the doors.

He didn’t know why he was in such a rush, but he didn’t want to take too long. Because given his luck, if he didn’t go the bastard would end up dying or something. He didn’t want that weighing on his conscience, that was all. It wasn’t like Hyuntak cared about Seongje getting hurt, in fact he wanted to be the one to hurt him. Only this was different.

The location seemed to be farther than Hyuntak thought it would be, so he reluctantly called a taxi. The small dot on the map seemed to be placed on a grey looking square building, most likely a warehouse of sorts. His ride showed up after what felt like the two longest minutes of Hyuntak’s life.

“Why are you going there out of all places, kid?”

Hyuntak wasn’t fully paying attention. “I’m sorry, sir, what did you say?”

“It’s not a good spot for a high schooler to be at. Bad people go there sometimes.”

“Ah, that’s why I’m going there.” He let it slip, and the chauffeur made eye contact with him through the rearview mirror, eyebrow raised. “Not like that, um, a friend is there and I need to get to him.”

“Do you want me to wait? I won’t charge you extra.”

The man’s voice was stern, but the offer was kind. Hyuntak’s heart ached.

“I think it should be okay, but thank you so much, sir.” He bowed his head slightly, even if the man’s eyes were now focused on the road again.

Fifteen minutes later, Hyuntak found himself a couple steps away from the entrance of said square building from the map. He tipped the driver, waiting before he left so he could enter. It was quiet, eerily so. He didn’t like it. It was the type of silence you knew something was off, fear settling into your bones whenever you find yourself in such a situation. The walls around the main entry were grey, unfinished, merely the ugly facade and nothing more to the place, jutting out like an ugly skeleton on the street. The ceiling was high, and it looked even higher once Hyuntak pushed the doors open and stepped inside.

They were unlocked, squeaking loudly as he pushed them back closed, body not turning away out of caution and facing the poorly lit, empty space ahead of him. It was like stepping into a maw of a beast, dark and looming, feeling as if behind every corner, every pillar holding the place up, some beast was waiting to pounce and cleave his flesh off. He shook those thoughts away, telling himself it was merely the human instincts scaring him, ancient fears of the dark and the unknown. Nothing to fuss over, not right now.

He debated on calling out Seongje’s name, but thought it would be wiser to get a little deeper in, scouting the area better first. There was light at certain places, the warehouse esque slob of concrete clearly designed to have windows for whenever it was meant to be finished. He didn’t see the similar silhouette anywhere near the entrance, so he went in deeper, several rooms branching out. It looked like one of those liminal spaces, the trend of your month, your liminal space coming back to him, his social media cluttered with those. Humin would always complain about the ones he got assigned with.

Only this wasn’t some silly video, but an actual place in real time and odds were Seongje was inside, bleeding out on the cold floor. The place smelled humid, gasoline and what he imagined battered concrete should smell like assaulting his nostrils. And that’s when he picked up something bitter in the air, barely noticeable. He quickened his pace, caring less about making noise. He hit a small rock, and it echoed as it flew away in a direction he wasn’t sure he saw himself. His breath got caught in his throat as he found himself in what looked like the final room, and he was no longer alone.

In the distance, at the very end of the warehouse and over some crumpled boxes, lay a body, clad in a black and red windbreaker, undeniably Geum Seongje. He looked limp, passed out probably. Surely not dead, right?

“Fuck.” Hyuntak cursed, now fully sprinting towards him. He ran so fast he ended up sliding down on his knees in front of him, wincing as he grazed his right one. It could handle itself pretty well nowadays, but at times it was more sensitive than the other. Seongje laid there, unconscious, lip battered, mouth bloodied, left cheekbone cut. It looked too clean for it to be something a punch could create. He shook him carefully, unsure where he had been hurt.

Luckily, Seongje stirred pretty easily, groaning as he struggled to open his eyes. His glasses were nowhere to be seen.

“Hey! Geum Seongje!” Hyuntak lightly slapped his unhurt cheek. “You with me?”

“Those motherfuckers.” He mumbled, teeth stained red.

“Are you okay?” He took Seongje’s head in his hands, forcing eye contact. “Look at me.”

The injured boy coughed, blood bubbling and escaping his lips. “So dominant.”

“Don’t even joke right now.”

Seongje nodded, his body sluggish as it laid there. He looked so tired, so fucking beaten it was a weird thing to see. It wasn’t as if he never got himself beat up, in fact he seemed to enjoy being on the receiving end of pain. There was something off about this situation, though.

Hyuntak kneeled in front of him, face stricken with worry. If you asked him only a week ago what he would do if he found himself in this situation, he would tell you how he wouldn’t care. But maybe that would have been a lie, as well.

“What happened, Seongje? How many of them were there?”

“Five of them.” He replied, leaning his head back and looking up at the ceiling obscured in darkness, squinting. “They had weapons. So boring.”

“Weapons?!” Hyuntak echoed, now noticing the jacket was ruined in a couple of places. “Move, I need to see if you got cut.”

“Hyuntak.” Seongje whispered, voice low. Their eyes met, gazes charged. “Shut up, will you? Just for a second.”

Confused, Hyuntak didn’t know what the hell Seongje wanted with that request. He opened his mouth to disagree, but there was something about the way he was being looked at right then, something hungry about it. He felt heat rush to his face, confusion hitting his brain like a freight train. Why did this keep happening, why couldn’t there only be hatred between them, and not whatever the hell this was? The complicated, unnecessary feelings.

“What are you-” Hyuntak started, but his words got cut off as Seongje’s hand gently pulled him closer, cupping the back of his head with a feather light touch and bringing him into his personal space. He expected a repeat of last time, eyes almost closing. But he couldn’t allow that to happen again. It was a mistake, after all.

Hyuntak resisted, and it made the boy’s hand fall from his head. “Can you move, does it hurt?”

“Yes, but, I can try.” Seongje whispered, attempting to push himself up into a better sitting position.

Hyuntak couldn’t bear looking at it, so he scrambled up off the floor to grab him under the armpits to lift him up. He could now see the jacket was torn on the back, too. He began taking it off, unzipping it first as he was wordlessly permitted to do so, zero resistance being offered. After it was off, a plain black T-shirt was the next obstacle, and despite the dark colour of the cotton wrapping around Seongje’s torso, Hyuntak could see blood staining it a deeper hue.

“This needs to go, too.”

“Take me out to dinner first, damn.” 

Hyuntak thought he might be better than he feared, if he was still able to joke. He slid the piece of clothing off, disliking how Seongje winced as the fabric got caught onto what were most definitely wounds on his back. His skin looked smooth, despite Hyuntak doubting if he knew what moisturizer was. Compared to the last time he saw Seongje shirtless, he had more muscles lining his torso and arms, tendons shaped out nicely, surely from all the punching he busied himself with.

The brunt of the damage seemed to be on his back, and Hyuntak gasped when he saw two pretty bad gashes slicing across the older boy’s flesh. They were almost perfectly straight, not jagged and not shallow, either. Work of a really sharp knife, no doubt about it. One line spread from the center of his spine diagonally towards his right shoulder, the other straight down the lower left of his back. They were still bleeding profusely, down into his sweatpants and onto the boxes.

“Fuck, Seongje, this is really bad.” He failed to hide the worry in his voice, more focused on opening his bag and taking out the large wad of bandages. He regretted not stopping somewhere and buying a disinfectant. He focused and began wrapping the bandage tightly all around Seongje’s torso, ignoring the small grunts and jerks of the body beneath his fingers as he did so. He felt hands clutch his pants tightly, holding onto him as he worked, the top of a head leaning onto his thighs. Hyuntak was meticulous, completing the motions with a practiced ease he was acquainted with since his childhood days, be it because of his own taekwondo injuries, or the younger version of the boy holding onto him right now, coming back bruised and bloodied.

“This is kind of familiar, don’t you think?” Seongje muttered before hissing again, Hyuntak now wrapping up the bottom of his back.

“Not our first go at this, yeah.”

“Why did you come?”

Hyuntak paused, choosing to reply once he was done tying a tight knot around Seongje’s hips, ignoring how his knuckles felt brushing the bones down there. “You sent me your location.”

“But you still didn’t have to come.”

“I might hate you, but that doesn’t mean I could live comfortably knowing I could have stopped you from dying, but didn’t.”

“Pfft.” Seongje scoffed. “This wouldn’t kill me.”

Hyuntak laughed, shaking his head. This whole situation felt insane. “You’re not invincible.”

“Maybe not.” Seongje muttered, letting go of Hyuntak and leaning back down again, wincing as his injured back brushed the crushed boxes beneath him. They ended up sitting next to each other, the cold concrete seeping into their bones no matter the cardboard underneath. Silence settled around them, weirdly familiar and comfortable. They sipped on the water Hyuntak brought, still cold from the fridge.

Time seemed to stretch further more, before Hyuntak felt Seongje’s gaze on the side of his face, unflinching.

“What?”

He turned around, and before his eyes could fully settle on the other’s face in the dim lighting, they were already way too close. Seongje cupped his chin, bloody and split knuckles crowning his hand, as if it was always meant to look like that. Hyuntak’s breath hitched in his throat, and he was about to mumble something about not wanting to do this, and Seongje, as if he knew, dropped his hand back down into his lap and looked away.

Hyuntak was the first to speak. “We should get you to a hospital.”

“Nah.”

“This isn’t something minor, for fucks sake.”

Annoyed, Hyuntak moved to stand up, deciding to leave and make the call for the ambulance once he was outside. But before he got the chance to fully stand up, a hand clasped itself around his wrist and brought him down, coincidentally falling right down into Seongje’s lap as he turned around abruptly. Hands were holding him tightly by the hips. Now their faces were once more back to being too close, and it seemed like the short sighted boy could finally see Hyuntak more clearly.

“Stay, please.”

It was a whisper, a plea. They sat there, eyes glued onto each other, Seongje’s escaping down onto his lips every moment or so. Seemingly unable to resist, he closed the distance, lips pressing gently against Hyuntak’s. It was a slow kiss, not starved or feverish, rather gentle and loving. That was what made Hyuntak feel weird, the way he was being kissed right then didn’t feel right. Despite it all, he found himself reciprocating, softly moaning into Seongje’s mouth, against his better wishes. That seemed to bring something out of Seongje and he pushed Hyuntak closer to himself. They were pressed up fully now, the warm turtleneck itching Seongje’s exposed torso.

The kiss deepened, expanding into a sloppy mess. Hyuntak tasted blood and cigarettes on his tongue, the bitter sensations consuming his entire being. It was gross yet enticing, rushing through his body like a weird high and tying him to Seongje. He held onto his shoulders, careful not to graze the injured one too much. His face flushed hot, lips red from both the blood and the action they were tangled within. He felt hands leaving his hips to trail over his upper body, fingers tugging the thick wool off his neck and exposing it.

“Did Baku see these, hm?” Seongje whispered against his lips as they parted, breathless. “I wonder if he makes your pretty face flush when he kisses you?”

Hearing those words, Hyuntak snapped out of it, pushing Seongje away and standing up to his full height. “Shut the fuck up, you fucking asshole.” He couldn’t stop himself from cursing, all of the desire dissipating out his body as if someone removed a wooden cork out of a champagne bottle. “What the fuck is wrong you?!”

He stood up, gazing down at the equally flushed Seongje, face pink in the semi-darkness.

“So sensitive.” He dragged the words out languidly.” Not in the sense I want you to be, though.”

“You’re unbelievable.” Hyuntak grabbed his empty bag off the filthy floor. “I’m leaving.”

Seongje laughed, bitter. His teeth were no longer bloody. “How typical.”

“What?”

Hyuntak took a step closer, crouching so he could look Seongje dead in the eye. “The fuck do you mean, typical?!”

“Oh, you know, I’m just something you always discard as if it’s an old toy you no longer want to play with.”

“Bold of you to imply I’m the one between the two of us who treats someone like a toy.”

Hyuntak’s words were welcomed with a mocking laughter, and if Seongje wasn’t already so injured, he would have punched him.

“I like all of my toys, though. You being my favourite, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I’m leaving, fuck you.”

“Once again, take me out for dinner first, Tak-ah.” Again, with Juntae’s nickname for him. 

Hyuntak fought the urge to strangle him and finish someone else’s job.

He stood up for the last time, dusting himself off and wiping his mouth clean of Seongje’s blood staining his skin and his lips, now feeling like poison over them. He turned around, leaving wordlessly. He ignored the laughter echoing behind him.

“Go Hyuntak!”

He ignored that too, steps picking up pace as he fiddled with his phone and opened his taxi app. He wanted to reach home while it was still empty, so he could pretend none of this happened as he waited for his mom to come back or for Humin to visit. He felt gross, regretting ever coming here in the first place. Maybe Seongje would have been fine, anyways, even if his cuts had surely bled through the bandages by now. He walked outside, the sun blinding him for several seconds.

Feeling watched as he stood in front of the grey building, Hyuntak crossed the street and went a little further away. He kind of hoped the same driver would come pick him up.

He didn’t.

Nonetheless, Hyuntak felt at ease the closer he got towards his neighbourhood, lost deep in thought to the extent he failed to notice he was being taken on the longer route by purpose, his lack of attention being exploited. He chose not to say anything about it, silently paying the higher amount and exiting the vehicle.

He was indeed welcomed by the empty apartment, and the rest of the day went by as he expected it to go. His mom returned giddy, refreshed and with the ingredients of his favourite meal. Humin came over for dinner, retelling how his own day had gone. Much better than Hyuntak’s, it seemed. Then they put on some old fantasy movie they hadn’t seen since they were kids, laughing throughout at the plot they used to find genius and new, quite on the contrary for them now.

Humin ended up staying over, passing out on the couch covered in sour cream and onion chips crumbs. His features were peaceful, eyes moving beneath the lids.

Hyuntak sneaked out after placing a blanket gently over his friend, drinking up the cute sight as he did so. He felt better, rejuvenated and happy. He entered his bedroom to clean sheets, one more thing in his life that allowed for his mood to keep improving. He changed clothes into clean pajamas to go with it, and got under the covers. He indulged his habit of going through his socials before sleep, opening chats and leaving them on read, only replying to Sieun and Juntae with some stickers, deciding to do the rest in the morning. 

The last thing he did was open his browser, a little nosy, wondering if there was any news in his area. You see, doing so was Hyuntak’s second mistake of the day, first being kissing Seongje back at that abandoned warehouse. Because now he would have to go to sleep after reading the forthcoming article.

an 18yo boy found with a stab wound in an abandoned warehouse, now fighting for his life at a local hospital. The police are investigating the scene of the terrifying crime.

Hyuntak’s blood ran cold.

Chapter Text

The leaves began falling down, detached from their joint branches, withering away as they were met with sullen puddles scattered about the ground, holes in the asphalt now impossible to spot. The rain had stopped long ago, skies half clear. They looked as if someone painted it in a rush, accidentally spilling a cup of dirty water one would use to wash their brushes, all over the paper canvas.

The air was stuffy, Hyuntak’s throat clogged as if someone shoved it full of cotton, suffocating him. It was the weekend, the late morning air invading the holes of his jacket sleeves and littering his skin with faint goosebumps as he walked towards the hospital, one he assumed Seongje would be in. Surely, there was nobody else that would fit the description from that article, the one that kept him up all night, regret flooding his bones and seeping deep into the marrow of his spine. There wasn’t a definition which could be assigned to how he felt right then, walking in a poor attempt at a straight line, in shoes unfit for the slippery sidewalk.

He was going to call the ambulance for him, making sure he actually got out safely. But instead, Hyuntak had to get predictably angry and leave Seongje to his fate, one that chose the perfect moment to be cruel and unforgiving. And it was his fault, he could have prevented it all from happening.

The eyes he felt on the back of his skull when he exited the disgusting building surely belonged to whoever had wanted to finish what they started, or to a completely random enemy Seongje had made. Fuck, it could have belonged to some psychopath simply waiting for the perfect victim to hurt, to get their sick and twisted fantasies performed on. But he felt this was something personal, deep down in his gut, that feeling, the instinct, it ruminated and bubbled loudly against his oesophagus.

He tried to stifle such thoughts, because there was no way Seongje could die, right?

There was a distant rumble, low and ominous, and it reminded Hyuntak of that day he ran into Seongje, gazes filled with hate, provocation, anger. The thunder announced the change in the air, and it was doing it again now, too. He could only hope it meant everything would be okay, clutching onto sheer faith as his eyes watered.

The hospital came into view after he rounded a corner, smaller than he imagined. The front parking lot was packed, employee cars and ambulances leaving barely any space left. There were tall trees and nice, wooden benches surrounding the entire building. It seemed to be built as a specialised trauma and recovery centre, making sense for Seongje to be taken here.

Hyuntak walked in, a small bag in hand filled with some snacks and juice, just in case. The inside of the building was well lit, but not as bright as most of such places were. It didn’t smell so bad either, which was weird. Hyuntak expected his senses assaulted by your usual hospital-esque traits, and the depressing atmosphere which followed. But the lobby seemed to be decent, relatively comfortable. He wondered if this place was funded privately.

He steeled himself, trying to control his breathing and the quickening heartbeat. He walked up to the counter, politely greeting the lady sitting behind it.

“I was wondering if you could let me know if there is a patient named Geum Seongje here, in your care?”

The sentence felt like lead on his tongue, falling out of his mouth with much reluctance.

The desk lady glanced at him once, then down to her computer, then back at Hyuntak for the final time. “I will have to check. Family or?”

He choked up, pausing for half a second. “Friend.” He replied, the word foreign as the clerk nodded in confirmation.

Several clicks of the mouse later, he got his question answered. “Room 19, on the right, just keep going down the hall and you will see it.”

Hyuntak bristled, a little surprised. “I thought he would be in the ICU?”

“It says here he was, right up until an hour ago.” She gave him a look, gauging out what he knew about the situation. Hyuntak chose to ignore it and merely show gratitude, nothing more.

“Thank you so much.” He bowed, heart rate picking back up as he speed walked towards the hallway branching out to his right. It took him barely ten seconds to spot the designated room, the number staring him back as if it was sentient and capable of judging Hyuntak for his decisions.

Only before he reached the door completely, he could hear faint voices conversing, perhaps arguing coming from the other side. Seongje’s wasn't one of them. Too curious to even think about the implications of eavesdropping, Hyuntak tucked himself into the wall right next to the door’s glass partition which served as a window into the room. 

A male voice could be heard, very reminiscent of Seongje’s, but not quite the same. He sounded upset. 

“I thought I made it clear to never, and I mean never put this family in this situation again.”

The man was met with silence, so he merely continued, voice slightly raising higher.

“Are you so out of money, you went scurrying around shitty neighbourhoods like some street trash?!”

Hyuntak could finally hear Seongje’s voice; it was quiet, raspy. It was wrong. “It's not about money.”

“Have I told you to speak? Annoying brat.”

This must be the family Seongje shielded him away from when they were children, not even allowing him to come too close to his neighbourhood, not until he stopped living there that is. Hyuntak was starting to understand why that was. 

He moved closer, peeking into the room at a snail’s pace, not wanting to be seen. He couldn't see Seongje from this angle, only the white covers falling over his legs, one of them slightly bouncing. The man standing in front of the bed was tall, dark hair clipped short, side profile resembling the bedridden boy. He was dressed formally, however the suit jacket he must have worn was discarded on a chair to the side. 

“He'd be embarrassed to see what you've become. But he always knew, didn't he?”

The sentence felt odd, as if it was meant to sting. It was delivered like venom, aimed to hurt and tear at Seongje’s feelings. He wondered if it worked, unable to see his face, only that his leg ceased to move.

The man, perhaps his older brother or uncle, continued. “Take this.” A credit card was tossed onto Seongje’s lap, where Hyuntak could barely see his hands clasped, eerily unmoving. “It can’t go into a minus easily, but I don’t think even you could manage that, unless you bought a fucking house.”

That voice, raspy, quiet, anger in its lowest octave vibrating outward and into the white room. “I don’t need your money, Hyung.” 

“You will take it, and if I don’t see a single withdrawal within a week, I’m coming back.”

It was a weird sentence, sounding precisely like a threat, and such that it seemed to be something within the realms of possibility of working on Seongje. Hyuntak felt he himself would obey just so he wouldn’t have to tolerate such siblings. Maybe being an only child wasn’t so bad, he thought. But the sound of footsteps approaching snapped him out of his musings, and he turned to quickly walk in the opposite direction as if he were leaving instead. He then stopped abruptly, strategically, pretending he had to tie a shoelace.

A body smashed straight into his back, cursing.

“Move.”

The voice was cold, emotionless. So weirdly similar sounding.

Hyuntak bowed, muttering a string of apologies he didn’t mean at all. He raised his head, having been met with a handsome face almost identical to Seongje, their noses being the only different distinct feature on their faces. His brother’s hair was cut short, small bangs crowning the top of his forehead. He also wore glasses, his being framed with thinner metal on the sides. Very proper, very uptight. They were so alike, yet so astronomically different it hurt Hyuntak’s head.

The man glared at him for a split second, deciding he wasn’t worthy of the time or effort to even acknowledge the poor excuse of an apology Hyuntak had offered moments ago. He merely walked off, a woman he didn’t notice was there before, silently following behind. She looked at the floor, as if ashamed or embarrassed. If he didn’t see her next to Seongje’s brother, had that meant she was by the top of the bed?

Hyuntak waited before he was sure they left the building, not coming back for a singular reason. He exhaled, feeling like he could see his breath penetrating the tension in the air in his mind’s eye. He straightened his spine, checked the bag in his hands for the seventh time that hour, and walked forward. He stopped himself in front of the room labelled by a number 19, the familiar face with his eyes closed leaning against the cushions. He decided against knocking, simply opening the doors and sliding in.

Seongje didn’t make a move to open them, simply laying there. But he was conscious, he was alive, that fact further confirmed by the rhythmic sounds of the heart monitor softly interrupting the bitter silence. 

Hyuntak didn’t feel real as he stood there, suspended in disbelief. His mind conjured up all the worst scenarios, fatal wounds, punctured organs, one more person in a coma, this time never to wake up again. There was the cringy slideshow of all the memories they shared were together with those thoughts as well, the bad ones, the horrible ones.

The beautiful ones.

But mainly their most recent encounters, the unpredictability of the events which followed, and of how Hyuntak had seemed to react to them, less hate than he initially hoped he held within himself. He didn’t dare speak and interrupt the moment, merely basking in the fact that he didn’t leave Seongje to his untimely death, bleeding out and turning the dusty warehouse into his very own unmarked grave.

“Are you just going to stand there and stare?”

He sounded tired and thirsty, wholly unnatural as it could possibly get for him. He was so still, almost as if there laid an actual corpse, and not the one person capable of turning most things into a badly timed joke, ones only he cared about understanding.

Hyuntak couldn’t take the sight, and spoke before he could have a better chance to think.

“Geum Seongje, snap out of it.”

Those eyes settled on Hyuntak, unfocusing once the stare became reciprocated. The glinting obsidian orbs one was used to seeing on any other day weren’t what awaited him, instead they were devoid of the usual mocking stare or that signature, sadistic tilt. No shine to them, no life behind them. Seongje didn’t blink, didn’t look away, just stared through the empty space as if there was nothing in the room he could focus on.

Yet despite looking and acting like nothing more than a husk, he could still bite. “You come here to gloat?” 

“What?”

Seongje moved to sit up straighter, wincing as he did so. “Admit it. This feels good to see, doesn’t it?”

Despite the vitreous anger seeping through his tone, Seongje’s voice was quiet, akin to a calm before the storm, before he began screaming at Hyuntak the entire collective of his unspoken emotions.

“I didn’t come here to fucking gloat, you bastard.” He raised the black plastic bag in the air, fist clutching at the tangled handlebars. “I’m here because-”

A dark chuckle spilled from the lips of the injured boy, covering the distance between them with ease, and flowing directly into Hyuntak’s ears. The sound wasn’t made from amusement, no, this was different. Seongje was hurting, and it was not a sight Hyuntak enjoyed, despite having believed for years he otherwise would.

Eyes burning silently, Hyuntak attempted to defy his gaze and take a step forward, then another. Upon the third step, Seongje’s shoulders stiffened up, as if he was recoiling away from the proximity. It was so unlike him, eerily unnatural to be so wary of someone’s presence. They both refused to drop the eye contact, a silent game being played between the two.

For a split second, they were twelve again, and Seongje was craving Hyuntak’s comfort when he fell and sprained his ankle. There was no irrational fear of harm coming his way, especially not from his best friend who had always patched him up. But now, several feet away in the soulless hospital room, everything felt different. They were different too, maybe more so than they chose to believe.

Wordlessly, Hyuntak stopped by the edge of the bed, sitting down at the little spot Seongje’s legs didn’t occupy. It felt as if the older boy was trying hard to keep them still. 

They stayed like that for some time, the joint sounds of their breathing becoming the only audible thing, alongside the repetitive heart monitor. He stared at the device, unblinking, and once the stuttery rhythm ceased singing a panicked tune, Hyuntak’s eyes went back to Seongje’s. 

“Hi.”

No reply, but a tinge of judgement was evident in the icy glare he was being given suddenly. That was good, he was snapping out of whatever tumultuous thoughts bothered him earlier, probably because of his estranged family. Or the fact he suffered a grave wound.

Hyuntak ignored the tension in the room, beginning to take out the food he brought as a present. “These seaweed wasabi chips you like so much, you freak, I got you those.” He rummaged some more. “And I have these foreign gummy bears Juntae got for me, but I don’t like them. Figured maybe you would.”

He raised his head from the bag settled in his lap, only to see Seongje was now looking out the window. They were down on the ground floor, and you couldn’t make out much through the blinds, only some meticulously planted shrubs. Hyuntak took it as an opportunity to look at the boy in front of him, a medical gown hanging loosely around his broad shoulders, probably poorly tied on the back. Little geometrical prints of dots and lines decorated it, washing out his skin tone. There was a bandaid in the middle of his hand.

“Did you hurt your hand?”

Seongje didn’t tear his eyes off the window. “Ripped it out.”

“The cannula for the IV?”

“Mhm.”

Hyuntak frowned, picturing the scenario. It didn’t seem unlikely. “Don’t tell me you tried to take off?”

“I didn’t.”

And then the silence settled between them once again, grating, uncomfortable. The intravenous mix of painkillers and who knew what else was trickling into Seongje’s other hand, drop by drop. Hyuntak couldn’t bear the silence, speaking again.

“Did you know that’s not the best place for a cannula? It should be on the forearm, here, see that vein?” He pointed to it, the blue line jutting out of Seongje’s skin. “It’s the most comfortable spot, don’t know why they didn’t go for it.”

No reply.

Annoyed and concerned at the same time, mind kicking into overdrive the longer his attempts at small talk weren’t being reciprocated, Hyuntak got up to his feet, leaving a small dent on the white bedding. He walked to the minimalistic cabinet, placing the food inside and the beverages on top. In his peripheral vision he could see his movements had not stirred Seongje whatsoever.

Resigning the attempts at conversation, Hyuntak decided to sit in one of the chairs placed further aside. It felt wrong to leave. He didn’t come all this way, carrying all that guilt and regret, like water filling his chest cavity, drowning him from the inside, only to only last five minutes. The scenario he was in right now, if anything, was much better than the ones his mind chose to replay like a sick video tape, over and over again, until he could swear his vision blurred behind his eyelids when he’d painfully shut his eyes closed. Seongje in a pool of blood, the crimson liquid turning brown and crusting around his mouth, nose, ears. His mouth slightly agape, eyes glassy. Still, like still nature.

Hyuntak feared that, the possibility that the boy he knew since all those years ago, constantly on the move, always saying something, doing something, a boy borderline feral; becoming quiet, resigned, still. 

And now it had come true, only not in the most horrific end scenario, but nonetheless, the sight was stomach churning. Geum Seongje, laying and staring out the window, distant flashes of lightning hitting his facial features reminiscent of a camera flash. The side of his face turning ghostly white for a split second, nose and jaw serving as frames to this weird beauty of his he portrayed in that moment. Hyuntak stared, mesmerised. The curve of his lips, the shape of his eyes, long eyelashes visible even from this far off. He was beautiful.

And then he spoke, not turning his head. “The fuck are you staring at?”

The voice wasn’t as quiet as before.

“Staring at you, obviously.” No point beating around the bush, is there?

“Stop it.”

“No.”

Seongje turned around, eyes turning to slits. There was no blood in his face, entirely washed out below the strobe lights. “Would you fuck off?”

Their eyes met, and Hyuntak faltered. They looked exactly like the ones from his waking nightmares. Dead.

He let himself be lost in thought, trapped in this very thing opposite of a reverie.

“Gotak.”

Hyuntak’s nickname. The one he got in high school. Seongje seemed to have said it in an attempt to get his attention. It worked. “Since when do you unironically call me that?”

“I’ll call you whatever the fuck I want.”

“It sounds nice when you say it.”

“Huh?”

Hyuntak didn’t know why he was saying such weird things, but his mouth was running faster than his brain, more so than usual. Perhaps a part of him was still petrified, reading the damning article in the comfort of his bed as Seongje was being rushed in here and hooked up to devices, ones Hyuntak was all too comfortable with. Which reminded him, the injured boy in front of him was partly to blame for that, too, yet in this moment he still found sympathy within himself.

“It’s a nickname I like, is all.” He admitted, unsure why he wanted to continue this conversation now of all times.

“You’re fucking weird.” A small grin cut across his face, flashing in tune with the approaching thunder outside. “You miss your boyfriend so much you’d have me call you by that name?”

Hyuntak laughed, a giggle escaped his lips at first, then another, then a full blown, melodic laughter. His stomach, empty since he was unable to eat even a little, hurt as it spasmed at its core. He didn’t miss the flutter of confusion which graced Seongje’s sharp features.

“You make it seem like it’s a petname, not a fucking anagram or whatever, of my own name.” 

“Whatever.”

“So, what happened?”

A pin drop.

Silence.

Ears plunged underwater.

Seongje looked away, head falling back and facing the ceiling. He bit his lips, scrunched his face in a manner Hyuntak found familiar, eyebrows furrowing and cheeks puffing slightly. It was the most facial movement he noted since having stepped into the room.

“I know why you’re here.” His eyes haven’t moved away from the lights above them. “Like the ever diligent angel, saviour in all your shiny fucking grace, coming to check if I’m alive because you feel fucking guilty.”

He wasn’t wrong, not one word was a lie as it fell from his lips. Precisely why it stung as the accusation was released between those four walls surrounding them.

Seongje continued. “Did you think if I died, you would be my killer?”

His killer?

“That’s not-” Hyuntak stood up from the chair. It scraped with an odd squeak against the linoleum floor as he took a careful step forward. “I know I wouldn’t be your literal fucking killer.”

“Don't you want to be?”

The question caught him off guard and he hesitated, giving the older boy the perfect opportunity to continue. 

“You could do it right now. I can barely lift my arms.”

“No.” Hyuntak whispered, unsure if he could be heard at all. He took another tentative step, slightly nearing now. 

“You could walk over, overpower me, pin my arms down.” Seongje’s eyes intensified, a feral glint outshining the fluorescence of their surroundings. “And once you have me fully at your mercy, take that lovely right knee of yours, and just press-” He ran a palm over his lower abdomen, right below where his belly button should be underneath the gown. “Right here. Hard.”

“Seongje.”

Hyuntak was at arms reach now, close enough he could smell the remnants of smoke in Seongje’s hair. 

“It's not that bad, the fucker just twisted the knife, so here we are. But if you make sure the stitches pop, well...” He smiled again, big, gums exposed. “This is the only chance I will ever give you, Go Hyuntak.”

“Are you even listening to yourself right now, you crazy bastard!” He snapped, fists clenching by his sides. Seongje’s eyes slid to them. 

“If you don't take the chance right now.” He drew the words out, slowly. “I will not let you go after I’m out of here. You're mine now.”

The cadence, the low tone of how he spoke, got under Hyuntak’s skin like ice. 

“The fuck are you talking about?!”

“I've lost count of how many times you left me, Hyuntak-ie.” He sat up and away from the cushions, wincing again as he leaned forward. “I thought you could take it yesterday, but you just ran away with your tail between your legs. Not very entertaining, wouldn't you agree?”

“I think you hit your head, asshole.”

Hyuntak leaned down, faces now a breath apart. He impulsively, perhaps even instinctively inched closer. A sickening pull seemed to always drag him into Seongje’s personal space, and he didn't know how to feel about that. His body vibrated with a strange intensity, as if he were a magnet someone held just close enough to a metal surface. Or just another magnet, even. 

Their breaths mixed, gaze trapped within the other’s. Seongje must have liked what he was seeing, eyes now sparkling, finally showing life.

“You look like you could actually do it. Kill me.” He moved the slightest bit closer, breath fanning over Hyuntak’s cheeks. “Too bad you’re too much of a pussy to go through with it.”

The words came out heavy, laced with meaning. One would think all of this was a mere provocation, but no, Seongje sounded honest. He was in a headspace unfamiliar to Hyuntak, this raw desire to get finished off when he was at his most vulnerable, but why? Was he embarrassed? Did he realise he simply didn’t have nine lives like some street cat? Or was he deep down just that disturbed to the point craving death and finality seemed like yet another adrenaline hit?

Hyuntak had an idea just then, one he absolutely did not think through. Faster than he could even spot himself doing it, his hand had shot out and landed right on top of the hospital gown, where he assumed Seongje had gotten stabbed. And when he heard his breath hitch and a soft gasp coming loose from his lips, Hyuntak felt the abdominal muscles beneath his palm clench and jerk away from him, involuntarily. He readjusted his position to be firmer, this time actually pressing upon it now that he was sure he made a correct guess.

Seongje’s eyes closed as he took a sharp intake of breath, head falling back slightly. Was it from the unexpectedness of the action, or some sick pleasure this was affording him with, Hyuntak wasn’t sure. Instead he chose to speak, the opportunity being granted to him was most likely a short one.

“You sick fucking bastard.” He gritted out, anger rising by the second. “I did not come here to put up with your sorry, now apparently suicidal ass? If I knew you’d be like this, I wouldn’t have come.”

“Shocking.”

“Shut up.” Hyuntak grabbed him by the hair with his free hand, relishing in how Seongje simply let him angle his head better so they were fully, irrevocably eye to eye. “I actually came here because I was sorry, yeah. I wanted to fucking apologise.”

He received a bemused expression as his only reply, so he continued.

“Just admit it to yourself, how it was fucking scary someone got to hurt you that badly, and that you had no control.” Those words seemed to reach Seongje in a way, dark eyes unfocusing slightly as they fogged over, but Hyuntak didn’t stop. “See, I know how that feels, I know it too well, so what you are going to do now is suck it up, and get yourself discharged. Fucking moron.” He shoved his head away as he released the grip, his other hand burning when he didn’t move it, a fiery sensation tingling beneath his fingertips.

Seongje was silent, hair messy and eyes glassy. He didn’t make a move to remove Hyuntak’s hand from his lower stomach, letting it sit there, as if cradling the wounded part. There was something fragile about the situation they were in, feeling as if they were suspended high up in the air, thin glass beneath their feet, about to crack. 

Another flash outside the window, ever so distant. 

Were they still distant, too?

“All I’m saying, Geum Seongje,” Hyuntak continued, voice involuntarily gentler now. “Is that I won’t let you rest, no, you don’t deserve that.”

Their eyes met, something akin to a challenge burning behind the gaze the older boy was directing him with. “Is this some shitty revenge tactic, Hyuntak?”

“No. You aren’t worthy of that, either.”

He stepped away, finally removing his hand. It felt as if his palm was on fire, hot and burning from having synced up with Seongje’s pulse. He stood there for a second, looking down at the now ruffled sheets and how the gown slid down a part of his shoulder, exposing the smooth skin beneath. He looked away a little too fast, spinning on his heel and walking away.

He heard the heart monitor ramping up rhythm with every step he was inched closer to the door. He slid them open and stepped outside without turning around, not even to see if he closed them properly. He stopped at the wall next to it, the same spot he occupied earlier when he was eavesdropping, and allowed himself to slide down into a crouch. He let his arms balance on his knees, the right one aching slightly from the weather change. Same as it did on that day.

His throat felt tight, stiff. Breathing felt like a chore for the next minute, Hyuntak wasn’t even sure why. It wasn’t that he felt bad for anything he said, having meant every word. The sight of Seongje bedridden, in pain, hooked up to machines, now that was slightly less appealing to see. But it had been nothing compared to what he went through himself, weeks, months, an entire year of recovery. The mental strain it put on him, the people who looked at him differently, the whispers following him through Eunjang hallways. It was so much, so much at once.

And he still got through it, and he should be proud of himself for that.

Without warning, something hit the door hard, shattering on the inside. Hyuntak jumped, startled, and nothing could prepare him for the desperate scream that followed. It was raw, broken and insanely loud. Despite it coming from inside of the room, it echoed through the empty hallway like a warning.

A nurse could be seen rushing down, calling for reinforcements and grumbling something about sedatives when another hospital clerk approached her with a concerned look on his face. They pushed the doors open, completely ignoring Hyuntak standing next to it with a dumbfounded expression. He didn’t dare take a peek inside, both out of worry of what he would see, or if he would get seen himself.

What he did do instead, though, was catch the door just before they closed shut with the tip of his shoe, leaving a small slit open just enough for him to hear a thing or two. He strained his ears, focusing hard on making out the situation without the privilege to see.

“I’m fine.” A whisper, raspy and tired. “I’m sorry for-” The words cut out, perhaps he was gesturing to whatever object he smashed.

It was weird, hearing Seongje earnestly apologising. It was not something one could dream of, really.

The nurse was reassuring him, but his voice got caught in a panicked tone when she presumably wanted to sedate him. Hyuntak couldn’t make out what he was saying, probably insisting he didn’t need it. He inched a little closer, curiosity the only feeling known to him in that moment.

“Fine, okay.” The words came out dejected, conceding. “Yes, you can check if it’s okay, I’m not protesting, I just-” Seongje sighed, loud, groaning. “I apologise for the glass.”

So that was what he threw at the door. 

Hyuntak stepped away, back of his head hitting the wall with a soft thud. He closed his eyes, running through the events which unfolded for these last twenty minutes or so. Seongje’s unnatural stillness, his eyes dead up until the point he started saying borderline suicidal things he never expected to hear from him. The provocations, the constant accusations fired Hyuntak’s way about abandoning him, when it was Seongje who left first.

He could still remember the day Humin defeated a bunch of the Union’s bullies, setting a clear and undeniable boundary on how Eunjang High was not to be messed with. Na Baekjin seemed to be fine with it, at least back then, or he was merely planning how to lure his old best friend back to his clutches all that time. Because why else would he come for Hyuntak, and with so much hate and vitriol present that it sent shivers down his spine.

And no, Baekjin didn’t just come to ruin his life out of some perverse obsession over Humin, there had to have been more to it. 

Hyuntak remembered it clear as day, he was on his way back home from training, more tired than usual, when a familiar voice called out to him. And there he was, ugly tracksuit, brand new sneakers, a smile on his face.

“Ganghak’s in the Union now.” Was all he had said, and it was more than enough.

He decided to leave before anyone saw him still standing next to Seongje’s hospital room, lost in thought.

He stepped outside, the humid air fanning over his face and making him feel all the more weird. He slid his phone out of his pants pocket, dialing his mother’s number. He had a favour to ask.

Three days had passed since, and Hyuntak walked outside the cramped school hallways, elbowing his way out the crowd. He told Humin, Juntae and Sieun not to wait up for him, and not to come to his house later either. He promised they could hang out tomorrow, or something along the lines. He ran outside, now that he could move freely, and down the hill leading away from the building. His mother waited for him, leaning onto the driver’s side door.

“Hi, mom.” He was slightly out of breath. “I swear I’ll make it up to you for having to take today off.”

She smiled, fondly. “My love, don’t you dare worry about that.” She opened the door, one foot inside the car. “Come now, we will be late.”

A radio station played softly as they drove, city pop and ballads filtering through the speakers. He thought the music suited his mother. It was sunny and he squinted, putting down the partition to shield his eyes from the bright rays penetrating the windshield. He was nervous, trembling with something akin to excitement but not quite it, either. He was about to ambush his enemy, using his own parent as a weapon because he knew it would make him unable to say no.

Funny how that worked, he could beat Hyuntak bloody, but wouldn’t say a word against his mother. He wondered if he saw her as a parental figure growing up. That was a bit of an aching thought he had just then, shaking his head as if it could come loose and leave his mind. He regretted thinking about it at all.

They arrived shortly, surprisingly the parking lot had more spaces at this time of the day, compared to the morning. It made sense, somewhat. Hyuntak felt mildly weirded out by the mistake he was about to commit, walking down the familiar hallway to room 19. There was a conversation going on, muffled by the closed door. Hyuntak’s mother knocked, smiling as she gently walked inside.

Seongje was in the middle of dressing, putting on a black, long sleeved shirt over his naked torso. The bottom was bandaged all around his hips and navel, accentuating his waist. He paused, one arm stuck in the fabric as his mouth fell open.

“Seongje, my darling.” Hyuntak’s mother cood, coming closer to hug him around the shoulders awkwardly. “I was so worried when I found out.”

The nurse stood to the side, eyeing the entire event with interest.

“Hi, miss Go, what are you-” She cupped his face, sweetly. Seongje’s cheeks turned pink. “If you are visiting it’s a little late for that. I’m getting discharged.”

“I know, we’ve come to pick you up.”

“What?” He blurted, eyes moving away to set onto Hyuntak for a brief second, who instantly regretted ever planning this in the first place. Why was it he was feeling guilty, again?

“Come, come, let me help you get ready.” She insisted, taking an empty bag she brought to put all of his things in. “Make sure you don’t forget anything, love.”

“I didn't have much to begin with, but what do you mean you are picking me up?”

“Hm? Did Hyuntak not tell you?”

Seongje’s head moved in his direction, eyes following after the motion. “Oh, how could I forget. Of course he did.”

He spit the words out venomously as their eyes met, determination versus curiosity. But Hyuntak didn’t falter, raising his eyebrows as if daring Seongje to do something about it. And really, his mouth opened and he was about to speak, when the nurse walked over.

“Please make sure to come sign your discharge papers at the main desk when you are done, Mr. Geum.”

The room felt quiet after she left, the rustling of his mother’s bags the only thing remaining to fill in the space. Seongje was now properly dressed, eyes set in a mischievous line as he gazed at Hyuntak, a silent conversation passing through their looks.

“You will regret this.”

“Fuck you.”

The bag rustling stopped. “So, boys, shall we?” And with that, Hyuntak’s mother left the room, expecting to be followed. They both complied, walking out and into the hallway, side by side. They were slightly behind her, so once she rounded the corner Seongje wasted no time, arm shooting out to push Hyuntak into the wall on their left. Failing to dodge, he gasped as a forearm clashed into the flesh beneath his collarbones.

“The fuck are you playing at?” Seongje bit out, smiling out of some unrecognisable emotion, not anger nor happiness. “You expect me to come with you, what, to roleplay roommates?”

Hyuntak bit his lip, preparing himself for a bit of a dirty move as his thigh shot out towards Seongje’s abdomen. It was a fake, he knew the boy would dodge it out of self preservation in his current state. And he was right, Seongje had twisted his body to the side, giving Hyuntak ample leeway to set himself free, pushing him off without much effort.

“You’re not leaving my sight until you heal.” He fixed his hoodie which hung awkwardly from the rough push. “Knowing you, some shit will happen to hinder it.”

“Why do you even care?” He sounded annoyed, tired of this conversation. His glasses were slightly crooked. 

“Because I will feel like shit if it comes to that, and no, that’s not caring.” He took a step, entering Seongje’s space. No smell of cigarettes this time, maybe being hospitalised wasn’t so terrible for him. “I am doing this purely out of selfish reasons, and you will do this because you owe me.”

“I owe you?” He scoffed, shaking his head as laughter bubbled behind his lips. “Are you insane?”

Suddenly, Hyuntak’s mother peeked her head out, looking at them with poorly concealed amusement. She wasn’t dumb, she knew very well these two had broken it off, but she hoped reconciliation was a possibility when her son had asked her to help Seongje out for a little while.

“What are you doing? We have to leave, come on, hurry.”

The taller boy scoffed, shaking his head. He walked away without sparing a glance at Hyuntak, hands in his pockets. He muttered something about needing a smoke.

It didn’t take long before they were standing outside, the autumnal sun a gentle feeling across their faces. Seongje was officially discharged, having used that credit card he was given to take care of the fees. Hyuntak wondered if he had any insurance of sorts, if he even cared for it. Alas, it didn’t really matter, the situation was sorted and they were good to leave. They shifted to the car, silence only interrupted when his mother attempted to engage in small talk, and it was mildly amusing to see Seongje cave in, indulging her.

And finally, after what felt like forever, Hyuntak’s back hit his bed, dark blue covers welcoming him as if he was a soldier who had no choice but to go to war, coming back home after years of battles fought. He sighed in satisfaction, procrastinating what he had to do next. Which was, the horrible and atrocious idea of making a sleeping area on the floor. For himself. Yes, he was going to let Seongje have the bed, otherwise his mother would probably freak out if he let somebody injured sleep on the hard ground. He would also have to take his big aerobic ball elsewhere, it took up so much space.

The situation was frankly annoying, but it was his idea to take Seongje in, so he couldn’t really complain now that it was happening.

He could hear muffled voices from the living room, mostly his mother chatting up Seongje as she was making food. Some of it consisted of questions on how he got injured, some on his education, none on his family. Eventually, he was speaking a lot more and their voices sounded pleasant, amused. They must have been having a good time, the only thing Hyuntak counted on, Seongje being kind to her. At least he hadn’t changed in that regard, if anything.

He permitted himself a moment of rest, closing his eyes and shutting out the noise of the world around him. Even the street outside was quiet, no noise filtering through the slightly ajar bedroom window. He dozed off, body melting into the mattress. A sense of calm washed over him, muscles relaxed, breathing steady. He didn’t even hear the resounding click of his door open and close, a presence overfilling the room and making it small, cramped. He stirred slightly, a little chilly now as the afternoon approached evening.

Hyuntak would have yelled out from surprise at what happened next, were it not for the fact he was still half asleep. A head hit his lap decently hard, settling in on the firm flesh of his thighs. His eyes snapped open, a gasp tearing out of his chest. Seongje was balancing his body supine on the massive ball, denting it as his legs dangled off the sides. If Hyuntak were to move, he would easily lose balance and fall, quite possibly down on his stomach, and Seongje was using that against him.

“I forgot how comfy your room was.” He grumbled happily, eyes fluttering closed as he seemed to enjoy the situation he was putting them both in. “Rub my head, Gotak.”

Hyuntak was too tired at the moment to fight the hand which grabbed his own, and put it on top of Seongje’s head. He was bewildered, the sheer audacity was astonishing, but he should have known it would come to this with having him stay over. But, Hyuntak’s pride and his guilt had it otherwise, and he was incapable of letting him go. He could only suffer the consequences of his choice, now.

“The fuck are you doing…” He whispered, hand awkwardly stiff in Seongje’s hair. It was soft, a little wavy, thick. “Move.”

“No, I don’t think I will.” He snuggled his head, rubbing the fabric over Hyuntak’s legs with the motion, who pretended the friction didn’t make him less sleepy all of a sudden. “Come on, move your hand, respect the wishes of the ill one.”

“You’re not ill.” A tired whisper. “You’re just injured.”

“Same thing, it counts. Come on.” Seongje whined, actually whined, laughing by the end of the horrendous sound he was making because he knew it made Hyuntak want to die on the spot.

“I think I’ll stab you myself, next time.”

“I told you already, you were given the once chance.” His head was perfectly still in Hyuntak’s lap. “You won’t get another one.”

“Whatever. I want to sleep.”

“Then sleep, Gotak.” He sounded like he was smiling, but there was no way he was going to glance his way to check.

“Stop calling me that.”

Seongje laughed, quiet and soft. Not something he heard in a very long time, almost forgetting such a sound existed. “I thought you liked it, coming from me.”

“Shut up.”

“Mhm.” He hummed, once again adjusting his head, before fully relaxing on Hyuntak’s lap. His breathing slowed down, falling into a lulled tune of inhale, exhale. He showered here once they arrived, and Hyuntak found it weird smelling his very own shower gel and shampoo off of Seongje. It seemed awfully domestic, and he hated that from the core of his being.

He let his hand brush through Seongje’s strands. The hair was soft and a little damp, twisting at the edges. The boy in his lap made a quiet noise, something like pleasure or contentment from having his hair pet. He seemed to be falling asleep, if not already having been sleeping. Hyuntak continued running his hand through Seongje’s hair absentmindedly, too tired to fight his brain and move his hand away. Besides, it felt weirdly nice to do so, and it made him all the more tired, all over again.

Ignoring the discomfort of someone’s weight on his lap, and the danger of Seongje’s position as he slept like that with a gash in his stomach, Hyuntak joined him in falling asleep, fatigue of both physical and mental origins overtaking him wholly.

He had no dreams, no nightmares.

Hyuntak slept peacefully, cradling his sleeping enemy, hand tangled around the strands of his chocolate hair.