Chapter Text
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In all the years he'd lived through, Park Humin had unconsciously catalogued his life into two phases: Pre-Baek-jin and Post-Baek-jin.
Baek-jin.
Na Baek-jin .
Just his name sends a part of his body ─ somewhere under his skin, deep in his ribcage, close in his heart ─ into an ache. He can barely stomach hearing it, whether it be in a hallway conversation between juniors he passes by, or an union member or even Gotak mentioning how the months have grown closer to Spring. Baek-jin's birthday month.
May 28th.
The edge of Spring and Summer had been when Baek-jin was born, which he'd mention as a brief comment in the second year of their friendship after too much pestering. Baek-jin never considered it important, not much relating to his birth identity ever was to him. Whoever his birth parents were could care less about him if they resorted to giving him up. Why should he care about a stupid day or name?
But Humin cared. He really did. May 28th ── a month and one day older than him. It was fate, he'd tell Baek-jin on a hot afternoon in which their skin had been cooked by the sun, shorts ridding up, bodies laying against the asphalt of their elementary school's basketball court. Eyes shiny, Humin had gotten up, his small hands clasped over Baek-jin's, before breaking into boyish smile missing some baby teeth. But he was hunched over strangely, and Baek-jin had caught with his perceptive gaze, as if he was hiding something which he was.
Two small blue cupcakes with one candle had been squashed in a plastic bag. Humin had revealed the bag as if it was a magic trick, grinning like a mad man, before shoving it into Baek-jin's mouth before he could even laugh or say a word. And for a moment, Baek-jin had told him that there was something so special about how his ‘puppy dog’ eyes glowed in the orange rays of the sun. Almost like he'd casted a spell on Baek-jin and took away the pain from all the beatings and brusing.
It was fate.
May is coming eventually. A May without Baek-jin. So what happen to fate, their fate? Had he thought so naively that fate had to punish him? He could live with Baek-jin hating him, and hating Baek-jin in return, but this? It hurts, hurts so much, hurts so much worse than a fist or a broken bottle against his skin.
Glass had cut through his cheek, raw and burning, the sting of it reminded him of Baek-jin. But his Dad had thrown the bottle, kicking him out for drinking, which is funny considering how his dad had been the one to nearly cause their neighborhood store to have a soju shortage. Thought they'd get along better when drunk, right?
How fucking funny, Humin thinks, when the world works against him always. Even an alcoholic, angry man doesn't want to drink with him. On top of that, Gotak has been telling him that he's been getting skinnier since Baek-jin had passed, can fate be anymore cruel to take away his muscles? Maybe his suffering was funny to them. What bullshit. Fate's a cruel fucking bastard, trying to test how pathetic he can be.
And they've won, it's a Sunday and he's trying to drink himself to an eternal sleep. Gotak has Juntae, Si-eun has Suho, but what does he have? Soju bottles and beer bottles until he can no longer open his eyes again, until time freezes and it stays April? Stays April forever and the calender never skips to the next month?
Fuck.
Nearing falling, he leans against a bench, slumping into it as his body curls up, trying to maintain some of his own body heat like a stray dog in winter. Alcohol surged in his veins, spitting out the faintness warmth across his skin, rendering his thoughts to just fragments in his mind. Cold air bites at his skin, but everything feels unreal like a dream, fading in and out. His vision had been reduced to a mere blue, city lights blending into one and blinding him. Everything was so distant and unclear, he could barely recognize these streets or how long he'd been drinking and wandering. He leans his head back and closes his eyes. Footsteps echo faintly, but there's no one around. Not really.
"Baku, "
A single word ─ just his name ─ echoed through the room, causing Humin to whip his head around startledly. Swallowing nervously, tears threaten to weld up in the corner of his eyes as they grow impossibly wide All of the city lights have warped into streaks now, and in the swirl of blurred shapes, a familiar figure stepped into focus. deathly pale, impossibly calm, watching him with sad eyes.
"You're drunk again," A voice observes, low with an almost disappointed edge to it. "You're a mess, aren't you?.. Eunjang's rolemodel, huh. "
Humin froze, heart hammering as the figure drifted closer. The face was blurry, almost as if it had been taken from a distant memory that he'd begin to forget. He swings bottle out in front of him, as if to push the vision away. Staggering again, his bottle clatters to the ground before he curls into himself on the curb, shaking.
"Baek..? Baek-jin, You're.. dead, " Humin croaks out. "I know you're..."
Finching, Humin's eyes are forced open again. Across the street, under the orange glow of the flickering street light, he sees him.
Baek-jin.
Standing still, just watching.
Calm. Like he always was.
It was so vivid, so real, his old friend stepped forward, his face sharp under the dim glow.
".. Baek-, Baek-jin? " Tears flood down his cheeks in grand tidal waves. His old friend's name getting caught up in his mouth like a dying prayer. "..Baek-jin? Fuck-, fuck, Baek-, You're─"
"Don’t cry, you crybaby. You're all grown up now, even if you still look like a puppy, you can't cry. Don't cry. A senior shouldn't cry like this. " Baek Jin laughs at him like nothing has changed, amused with his gaze lifted from the usual heaviness. "Baku, come here. C’mon."
Baek-jin doesn't stop growing closer, and closer and closer, with an impossibly soft smile on his face, pulling his hand up to brush his thumb against Humin's cheek, tears wiping away.
"Baek-jin─"
"How have you been? " He asks, like it was just a casual greeting with a good friend he hasn't seen in months. Tipping Humin's chin up with his thumb, he sighs. "Ah, you don't know how pretty you like this, all shocked. As if you've seen a ghost. "
"Baku, did you miss me? " For a moment, Humin thinks he really wants an answer, like he's not playing with his head again. Yet, he's not entirely playing this time ─ his thumb moves upwards, brushing past Humin's cheek bone, and a soft, faint outline of a smile inches on his face. "‘I've missed you too. "
"You-, how could-, you fucking─"
"Sorry I couldn't say it earlier. You blocked my number. "
"You were-, I thought you were fucking dead! You-, you can't, this can't be right..Yeah-, yeah, you aren't real. You aren't fuckin’ real! " Humin begins to pound his hands against his old friend's chest, writhing like a shot animal trying to flee but ultimately he's too weak now.
But he's not the Baku that everyone had seen at the oval at Yeoil high school. Gotak's right, He's grown skinny and gaunt over the following months after the funeral, eye bags hanging under two dark irises devoid of his usual twinkling light. He can barely remember the last time he ate before going on this soju bender. Yet even back then, his protegee, his old friend, his Baek-jin had been the one to slump him against the ground. And Baek-jin doesn't move, doesn't do anything but hold his wrists, taking every weak hit.
"You're not fucking real! Get away from me! Get the fuck away from me! "
"Huh. You're still the same. " Baek-jin's hands move to clutches his face within his palms. "Can't stand to see my face? Do you really hate me that much, Baku? "
"Don't fuckin’ call me Baku! You're not my baekjin, so stop fuckin’ haunting me! Leave fuckin’ me alone! "
"Baku," He draws closer with a limp. Humin's eyes instantly grow attentive, hands pulled our of his pocket as though he would catch him if he fell. But how would he catch him if he can barely stand the sight of him? Can barely touch his skin?
He smiles. "Baku, do you dream of me? "
"I'm fucking dreaming right now, that's it. That's all this it. "
"You miss me. "
"You're not real. "
"Baku," He laughs through a sharp smile, sounding dry and raspy and mean, like sandpaper. "What does it matter? Nothing felt real to me after you left, you can handle it. You represent Eunjang, isn't that right? You're all grown up, now. "
"You piece of shit, why are we talking about this? About any of this? This doesn't fucking matter! The shitty gang wars, the fights, the bullying! None of it! None of it mattered to me.. We could..You could live a good life, Baek-jin. "
"That time has passed." Baek-jin answers, plainly, as if it was always going to be this way. As if one point or another, he'd come back from a long day and put all his funds into his orphanage and just pass on. Finally resting. "I'm finally dead. Aren't you happy, Baku? "
"Don't fucking say that shit─"
"Or what? " Baek-jin's voice grows to a yell, echoing throughout the alley, as Humin automatically flinches, his weak body stumbling a few steps back.
"What, Baku? " His smirk was a razor-sharp line, and he took a step closer, almost within touching distance, like a predator animal chasing down prey on a hunt. "You'll hit me? You'll hit me until you can't recognise my face so you won't see me again? "
"No.." Humin croaks out, and he can't take it anymore, knees bashing against the pavement as he falls to Baek-Jin's feet. Reaching out, ears ringing, he clutches the blood soaked linen of Baek-Jin's pants, fingers digging harder and harder and harder. He feels real. This feels real. He feels like the real thing. Bloody, and sullen and bruised, his broken Baek-Jin.
"No, I can't. I.. Baek-Jin, why? Why did you go? Why are you so cruel to me? Just.. please. Come back home. You want me to say I lost to you right? I'll do it, Baek-jin ah. Whatever you want.. "
"What I want? " Baek-jin echoes amidst Humin's sobs, taking a moment to consider, as a short pause follows. "What I want is impossible. "
Glancing up, Humin's gaze is muddied with tears as he breathes out, shakily. "Impossible? "
"I wanted you to myself, just me, only me. You were my person. You knew my heart, and I knew yours, right Baku? Sorry. I realised that I was selfish. " Baek-jin's hands softly card through his hair, fluffing up the shiny grown out black locks, like they used to when Baek-jin would comfort him after test results were returned or after bad basketball matches. "Park Humin, I still think of you as my friend. My one and only. You were always my favourite. "
Smiling, Humin's old friend sighs.
"And I know it's bad, but I'm happy we fought.
Truely. It was the first time I was able to hold you in years. It's the one of the last times I had you, and held you. Maybe I died terribly selfish. But I'm tired, Baku. I have to go rest now. Sorry. "
"Baek-jin-, Baek-jin, wait-, fucking wait, please wait, I─"
"Don't cry, don't.. I won't burden you anymore. So, you don't think about it, alright? Forget me. You're free now. "
"How could you say that! How could you? I loved you, hyung! " Humin's words came out slurred and bitter, but they carried the weight of something deeper, something hed always been too afraid to confront when they were younger, or sober. Affection that he'd never dared to give Baek-jin when he was still here. Affection that he trapped deep in his heart. Affection that no one else could have.
"You-, you fucking haunt me. I see you everywhere and nowhere. If you really wanted me to be happy, why then? Why? We were friends, I still thought of you. Every month. Everyday. So why? Why did you die, if you knew I'd be like this? Didn't you love me, Hyung? "
His voice is hoarse, cracked from shouting earlier, from drinking too much, from grief that never softened, only buried itself deeper. Tears mingle with the sweet remnants of peach soju on his lips. With his mind spinning, he pulled himself up to his feet before his body, without permission, leaned in. closer. and closer. and closer. His heart raced, though he couldn’t tell if it was because of the liquor in his blood or the presence of Baek-Jin standing so close. He reached out, his fingers grazing Baek-Jin’s chest, the heat of his body startlingly real under his touch.
"You don't know what you're doing, do you?" Baek-jin murmured. His voice low and dangerous, staring down at Humin whose body curled into his chest like he'd been a wilted flower leaning against his body for support. "You were never the smart one out of me and you, were you? Don't do something you'll regret, Baku. You can't take it back. "
But Baek-Jin didn’t move. His gaze remained steady, his lips curling into something predatory. Their proximity, the heat between them, felt overwhelming and Humin's body reacted immediately ─ pulse quickening as his breath hitched, warmth spreading like a wild fire against his skin.
In that moment, Humin’s heart hammered painfully in his chest, his longing just about to break his ribcage into tiny pieces of bone. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to run or lean in closer, to kiss him and just try to feel Baek-jin's touch again, or punch him so hard his jaw would shatter. But the line between reality and dreaming blurred even further, and he found himself caught in the heat of the moment, the confusion of his innermost desires and the chaos of his mind colliding.
"Baku, what don't you get? Are you purposely acting stupid? You're free now, I'm gone, so stop. Stop thinking about me, alright? "
"You heartless bastard, you think you can just─"
"Baku, " Baek-Jin's voice melts into the wind, with the frayed tone of something already leaving. "Baku, it's okay. You'll forget me. "
"Baek-jin! Baek-jin, stop! You can't-, you can't just fucking leave me like this! "
Na Baek-Jin was still there, his Baek-jin, and his presence undeniable. A shadow that had always been hovering just outside the reach of Humin’s hands. But the more Humin's watery eyes tried to focus, the more the hallucination began to fade, slipping through his fingers like smoke.
"...Don't go." Humin begs, barely audible and small, almost like a child. "I lost, okay? I lost to you, that's what you wanted right? You ruined me. I'm beneath you. So... so please, don't leave me. Don't give up on me, please, I swear I'll do my very best. I'm sorry. Please.. I'll do all I can, We'll be happy, please Baek-Jin.. I'll be kinder.
Come back home to me. "
The lights of the city have become less sharp, and Baek-Jin's figure distorted, gradually fading until he melting into the darkness. Siding down again to sit on the curb, back against the railing, His legs sprawled out, head tilted back. Night presses around him like a weight, but he doesn't move. He lets it sit on his chest. A stray dog barks in the distance. Someone's bike rattles by. Neither sound registers to him. It's felt like that ever since Baek-Jin left.
Nothing felt real.
Nothing was real.
"Baek-Jin ah, come back.. " He calls out, slow, like he wants to utter his old friend's name into the cold night air for as long as he can. just to keep it, just to hold it in his mouth, as if he was really talking to Baek-jin for just a moment.
Was it real? Was he real? Did it even matter, anymore?
Dazed, he stood there for a moment longer, his hand still outstretched, feeling the phantom sensation of Baek-Jin's warmth against his fingertips.
Could he live this life, a Post-Baek-jin life? Truely? Could he survive it?
Pre-Baek-jin Baku was someone he had never gotten familiar with, his childhood would always be stained with memories of their morning walks or lunch time basketball sessions or after school tutoring lessons at the orphanage. Everything from those years had involved them leaning on each other like two wilted sunflowers that saw each other as the sun.
But now all that's left is the quiet and the ache in his chest, like a bullet had shot straight through and left him bleeding out in this alley. And Humin, nearly blacked out as the morning sun arises, lets himself believe that maybe, just for a moment, he wasn't entirely alone. That Baek-Jin had come back to him. That had his old Baek-Jin again. Even briefly, for just a second, for just a moment. For a short beautiful fleeting moment in time.
Broken and cruel and cold but his nevertheless.
His Baek-Jin.
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Baek-Jin,
the morning sun's just about to take over the sky but this year, spring feels so cold without you.
[ 2:07 am - sent ]
Baek-Jin,
the morning sun's just about to take over the sky but this year, spring feels so cold without you.
[ 2:08 am - undelivered ]
Chapter 2: new york
Chapter Text
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New York in May is too warm for him.
Most of the women look good here. But, he can't really look at the men so much without his mind trailing back. and back. and back to years ago. No guy has puppy eyes out here, which makes sense, upstate new York for the most part is too fast paced and harsh for soft and slow affection, favoring detached sexuality more so.
He's not forbidden from that. Truely, there's no higher moral ground for him, on work and off. Lately, he'd been seeing a half American girl here: Minji Colkins. Casual dates, casual hook ups, casual rooftop smoking sessions. He sees her in Time's Square with another guy and doesn't flinch. It would be a double standard, he's still thinking about a puppy back home. More accurately, he sees him every time she looks back with her softened gaze. The fluffy dark-brown hair, the shiny doe eyes, large enough to capture a small universe inside of them, and the light tan. Similar. Good enough for now.
Meeting at a Versace modeling shoot sounds like the start of some shitty romance drama his old friend would watch, but it isn't like that with Minji. he could just tell he didn't belong ─ almost like she'd smelt his childhood poverty like the Versace eros the makeup artists had doused on him. And expectedly, like the true dirt poor scumbags they are, they put down their high class facades as they smoked and drank on the roof overlooking the city until the early hours of the day. It's strange seeing his body dripped in clothes he used to buy rip offs of. Too strange. New York's moon and sun had shared the sky in that memory.
"You know, " She had started. "I thought flying across the globe would unshackle me from all my father's bullshit. Spent a quarter of a million to end up in the same place. "
"You can't run away from yourself. "
"And what? " She snickers. "You've ran away from something? A girlfriend? A mom? A child? "
Another cloud of cigarette smoke unleashed on the cold, harsh night, drifting down new York's sky scrapers. "A boy. A friend. "
"A friend. " She repeats, lingering on the second word, almost giving it another meaning with the tone she uses.
"A close one. He'd practically be glued to me when we were young. like a puppy. "
"I had a friend like that. " She comments. "She... I guess she was a part of why my dad hates my guts. "
"Did you do something wrong to her? "
"She's a chaebol. " She answers, before a long drawn out pause. She grabs the cigarette from Baek-Jin's fingers and breathes in, lungs engulfed with smoke before wheezing it out. "And I.. I fucked up. I kissed her. "
"Shit. "
"Yeah." She croaks out, a teary smile, before dryly chuckling. "Shit. Don't know what was going through my mind. Acting on just feeling. "
She passes the cigarette. "What about your boy? The one you keep in your wallet, right? What's the deal with you two?
"Mine? " He pauses, shrugging. "He kissed me. "
It was the first kiss he had. Baku too.
With the first year of high school closing in, celebrations were held nearly everyday; night drinking, the humid summer air, people leaning onto each other with their hands touching. Baku had dragged him to each one he'd been invited to that year; no Gotak, no other girl, just him. Only him.
For as much familiarity he knew Baku had with alcohol, he was a shit drinker. There was no flowery way to describe how pathetically short his drinking limit was before getting embarrassingly drunk. That day had been like all the others; with Baku leaning on him, eyes peering up towards the smoke engulfed sky, as they trudged towards Baku' home. Celebrations only continued, winding down to small intimate ones; sharing the same, singular peach soju bottle and mandarins that were about to expire between them. The only book Baku ever took to read had been basketball mangas; Kuroko no Basket at the time.
Feeding each other became customary throughout the years, more-so him feeding Baku. But Baku needed it, even though he slightly bulked up, the boy was still skin and bones compared to all the other boys the basketball team, including himself. Baku's mouth had hung open, as if expecting something, without taking his eyes off the cartoon panels, lashes casting mini shadows on his under eyes.
There are still gaps where the afternoon sun peeks through, emphasizing the slight shine in those big puppy dog eyes, the crinkles around them. Baku's an unattainable desire, or some stupid shit like that in his drunk thoughts, and it's like his mind and eyes try to make fun of him for viewing the other boy like that. just lingering on him and taking it all in. How Mandarin juice makes his lips wet. kissable almost.
Fuck.
He's beautiful.
This is going to hurt.
It's as if his one and only, his first and last, his whole life is staring back at him. Everything that had put such a distance between them seemed to pile an indescribable weight on his shoulders as Baku's gaze finally meets his.
How did it even get to this point?
It's stupid that fluctuations in his feelings have arisen today. Puberty's screwed with his hormones again.
"Hyung? Have you had your first kiss? I haven't yet.. "
"Huh? " The question almost makes him feel like water has been dunked onto him. Shock feels impossibly cold against his hot face. "Not yet. "
"So you're unprepared for Wonyoung? " Baku teases, before getting shoved, his manga flying out of his grasp.
"Who's unprepared? "
"You're gonna kiss her, " Using up most, if not all, of his strength, Baku ins his protegee against the floor, huffing deep breaths. Quickly after, he begins making exaggerated kissing sounds that sound straight out of a shitty porno. "like a fish out of water. "
Scoffing, it's pretty easy now to flip Baku over with how much suicide drills he'd been running at basketball practice as a punishment for being late. But surprise is clearly written on Baku's face, lips dropping open when his body slams against the wood of the floor, and why wouldn't he. His student of one and half years has already surpassed his skills.
"You're so annoying. " He mumbles, mouth dangerously close to the soft skin of Baku's neck, before pausing. ".. You're lucky you're cute. Like a puppy. "
Baku tilts his head, confused. "A puppy? "
"Hmn. With your tongue hanging out. " He places his thumb for a moment on Baku's lips, pushing down, before patting Baku's head, close. too close. "Puppy."
Baku grows unnaturally silent, trying to wiggle his way out of his friend's grasp as the hands around his wrists only tighten. "You shouldn't do that. " He eventually gets out in a small voice.
"Why? "
"It makes me feel things. " Baku explained weakly, shame tinting his skin pinkish. "Makes my body feel weird. "
He grew closer to the younger boy, hips pinned against Baku's thighs. "How? "
"How.. How am I supposed to tell you? " Baku sulked. "I can't.. describe it, man. "
"Then show it. " He declared. "Show me, Humin. "
It's the alcohol that makes Baku do it. It had to be. The alcohol. The soju bottles that made him kiss him. That makes him softly hold the bruises up sides of his friend's face in his palms and kiss at his lips. inexperienced. messily. desperate.
Baek-Jin only takes advantage of it, naturally good like he is with everything, as his hand travels from Baku's arms down, slipping where his shirt had ridden up to touch the bare skin of his waist. Intimate, like lost long lovers, like they'd known and been with each other before, like a married couple in a former life. Baku keeps kissing him like he's oxygen and all things holy on Earth, like he was worth getting down on his knees for in a similar manner to worship.
If a man lies with a man as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination; they shall be put to death; their blood is upon them.
Leviticus 20:13
"Baku, " Church bells ring repeatedly in his ears as he shoves his friend off of him, Baku falling behind with wet, bitten up, swollen lips. "Baku, we shouldn't do this. "
And Baku says, "Why? Because I'm not a girl? "
"Baku.. It's not─"
"No-, no, don't lie to me! Don't fucking lie to me! It is, isn't it? " He starts to shout, tears burning on his water line, with everything in his line of vision blurred. except from the other boy's blank expression. "You think I'm some freak, don't you? A fucking faggot, right? I'm not-, I'm not gay, okay? I slipped up.. I'm not gay, Baek-jin. I'm not, I'm not! Okay? Do you understand? Do you understand! "
Panicked breaths spit out Humin's mouth. "Fuck, Fuck, don't you? Oh God, this is.. you have a girlfriend? You accepted Wooyoung's confession right? Last week? Fuck fuck fuck. " He rambles, salty tears flooding down his cheeks, skin tinted an ashamed shade of red.
Then Baku looked at him, and just, loved him. Loves him, and that realisation, that reckoning of himself he struggled to come to terms with since he first met him, absolutely terrifies him. Fear sinks down to his bones. Teeth clenching. It terrifies him because of what he would do for his friend, and for what words he will never hear from him. For that, Baku seeks forgiveness, like a bad dog that bites at people that pet it, like an ugly creature that shuns away any affection or reflection.
Like a monster,
like an unlovable thing.
I love you in a sinful way and I always will .
For that, I am sorry to you.
"Baku, Her and I aren't together, we haven't gone a date yet─"
"Yet? " Baku echoes. "It was a mistake, okay? This was a mistake, some shitty joke. All of it. Please, please forgive me, Baek-jin-, I'm sorry. I'll get it if you don't want me around at school. I'm not a fag, I'm just..I'm stupid. Sorry. So fucking stupid. I shouldn't have been born. I just-, I just fuck up all the time. "
"Baku-, Humin, wait─"
"Baek-, Baek-Jin, you have to leave. ." He warns, as the sound of house key jingles accompanied drunk slurs. "My dad's home. He's gonna hurt you. "
"Baku, I'm not gonna let him─"
"Hyung.." Baku pleads. weakly, tenderly, sacredly. And it's like a plea, like a prayer.His eyes growing impossibly soft from his own begging. "Please, you have to leave. I'm sorry, Baek-jin ah. "
Who can say no to an angel?
So he left.
How fucking naive?
He left without knowing,
that was the last time he would be able to touch Baku without throwing a punch first.
Back when he was a kid, those warning about youth echoing from adults and how it only lasts for a few moments before it's gone, vanished, would just roll over him but couldn't stick. Like water off of the feathers of a duck's back. He gets it now that he's on the edge of his teenage adolescence, it's clear to him.
"And what? " Minji laughs, breaking his spiral of thoughts moment as the bottles red wine and white powder lines come back into focus. "You tried to kill him for being some fag like me, like all good Christians do? "
"No." He cuts off. "He was made in the Lord's image, why would I ruin that by hurting him? "
"..Oh?...Sorry, I don't know why I said that.."
"It is what it is. I went to church when I was younger. And I guess I believe in God. Don't think he's loving though, like the Bible says. He's.. "
Her eyes snap out of her drunken daze immediately, curiosity written all over her face. "What happened, then? With him? You said he looks like me. He's pretty, right?"
"Yeah, " He answers softly. "The prettiest smile I got to see. Like the first sighting of the sun after a long, cold, harsh winter. You get it? "
"Hey, do you think you're in a fuckin' kdrama? What cheesy bullshit was that, bro? "
"You asked, Min ah. " He retorts with a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Life just.. It got in the way. Love is like that. Fleeting. Can't hold it for long. "
Drowisly giggling, she nods though, pressing her lips against him and laughing into his mouth. It feels warm. familiar. intimate, even, like they'd known each other longer than they have. But nothing compared to back home. Her lipstick smudges on the corners of his lips. Messy, a little reckless, a little shameless, just like him, she didn't belong in high class society.
"Isn't that right? Love is shit. Life is shit. Life is so shit.. At least you have me. We have each other, now. Okay? You have me to tell things, you fuckin' knockoff socrates. " She mumbles into the croak of his neck, eyelashes wet with unshed tears, as he pats her hair and trails down to rub her back. "Baek-Jin ah, you're so fuckin' unreadable. It's driving me mad. "
Joining her highschool ─ Trinity High school ─ is the first thing he does the next morning. Best to spend the last few moments of school with a friend, right?
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Life goes on, Humin eventually finds out, it goes on and on and doesn't stop.
He hasn't seen Baek-Jin's ghost in some time. Had thoughts that maybe, even a fictional Baek-Jin can't stand his pathetic self so much that he's left. just like the real one.
The late morning sun filters in through half-open blinds, casting striped shadows across the desks. The low hum of the teacher's lecture fills the room, but he hasn't been really listening.He hasn't been really living either, time just passes by. Plays basketball with everyone, except sieun. The poor guy Suho can't remember a thing, only his grandma's name and nothing else. No Beomseok. The brutal jumping. MMA.
Sieun.
Nothing.
He won't bother Sieun about it, at any point throughout these days he looks on the edge of crying.
So, if his life is like this, externally he should be okay, happy even. Why would break it all down to reveal that he's struggling? Gotak sees through it, for the most part, but doesn't push for anything. He knows Baku too well to do that, when the boy's pushed, he flees.
"I think you're the one who thinks too much. "
Hands against the concrete of the basketball court, Hyeontak's words render Humin suddenly serious. "What? " He's staring now, almost fearful of what his friend will say.
"You're still thinking about him. " Hyeontak answers. "Na Baek-Jin. "
He wants to vomit after hearing that name. throw up all the feelings of warped affection and longing and yearning. He's not a girl, he's not his girl, he's not Baek-Jin's fucking window, so why? Why does his chest ache so much? Why did fate make him like this?
There's nothing to be sad about, he doesn't deserve to be sad about someone's death that he thought to wish about at one point. Fate's giving him this punishment. There's no easy way to say it. Girls don't, can't do it. No matter which one. No matter how beautiful, or kind or funny or nice to be around, he can't stomach the feeling of self disgust for just leading these girls on to come to his usual solution ─ breaking up over text like the scumbag he is. He's tried to make it fit, tries to confidence himself that it's what he needs, but it's all temporary. Trying to mould something into a shape in an attempt to fill the emptiness in his chest never works out. He must have been cursed to end up a fucking.. fag, a broken human, a not normal person.
But until he's okay, until he's normal, he'll choke down that feeling to not be that man anymore.
Chin resting on his hand, his empty eyes and black stare is transfixed on the desk, but he isn’t reading or writing. His notebook is open, but the page is blank except for a light imprint where he had pressed his pen too hard and stopped. He's lost somewhere far, so far away, where flashes of Baek-Jin haunt him.
Baek-Jin finally smiling, tooth and gum, when they finally got close enough to joke around, ending up with Baek-Jin stealing a wing from his friend chicken.
Baek-Jin yelling across a basketball field, before throwing him the game winning shot until taking it up for himself. From Baek-Jin's angle, he could have easily made it but no, he passes. selfless.
Baek-Jin quiet and bleeding, his face twisted in pain, as they settle in the stuffy, empty medical bay. He had a tight clutch on Baek-Jin as he bandaged him up, having former experience doing it on himself from his dad's favourite pasttime being to kick him until he couldn't get up again.
BaekJin's funeral photo.
BaekJin's dead.
BaekJin is dead.
BaekJinisdead .
BaekJinisdead .
"...and so, when we consider the quadratic..." The teacher’s voice fades in and out like bad reception.
Another buzz. His phone.
Hidden under the desk. Baku glances around before glancing down at his screen.
02-3275-4018:
> You should smile more, Humin.
People are noticing something's wrong.
> Isn't the weather good, now?
That's something to be happy about, right?
> Sorry. I picked up smoking again.
Don't be sad, okay puppy?
[ 9:30 am - sent ]
He stares. And just continues stares.
Puppy.
His thumb trembles slightly, and his chest begins to ache again. The style of the message is mocking, overly familiar, almost sing-song. Like that someone knows him.
He glances out the window. Blue and cloudless, the sky is obnoxiously clear today. The kind of day Baek-Jin would like, with it being sunny as all hell. Baku used to perceive those days with the same affection, but as he can stomach less and less food, with more and more bruises and anger eventually turning to cuts against the rough skin of his forearm, he's given up on the spring uniform. He opts to drown in hoodies he finds at local church charity shops that want to get rid of them as soon as possible.
He feels exposed though. Like the walls of the classroom are see-through and someone is laughing just out of sight.
Hyeontak leans forward from his desk behind him, asking quietly. "Yo. You good?"
Humin blinks. The still moment breaks, but the frantic heart beat in his chest doesn't leave.
He nods, stiff. "Yeah, bro. Just tired."
When class ends, he's the first person to leave, walking with his hands in his pockets, head down. Footsteps, laughter, someone yelling from a stairwell, smoke, fights fill the hallways with noise. But for Baku, it’s muffled, like he’s underwater.
He reaches his locker. Opens it slowly.
Taped to the inside of the locker door:
A photo. A real one. It's blurry, taken from across the street.
And it's Baek-Jin, with him, his head pressed up against his, dimple on display. Same oversized white Baek-Jin used to where as a kid to cover up the bruises in the warmer months. Same slump in his shoulders. Beer in their hands. They were happy together.
Fuck.
This is so nauseating.
He wants to throw up. Throw everything up and let it go. The love, the hate, the desperation, the longing, the guilt ─ everything.
Yanking the polaroid down, he makes the mistake of crumpling it. Immediately, unfolding and smoothing the old Polaroid of him and Baek-Jin before slipping it into his clear phone case.
Rain begins to fall, light at first on his way home. Just his luck. Fate, huh? Getting him again, right? The alley he walks down is empty, too narrow and littered with broken bottles and cigarette butts. It hasn’t changed. Remains untouched since the last time he and Baek-Jin sat and drank their pains away.
"You’re such a scumbag, you know that? A cruel, mean scumbag. " He calls at to nothing, and there's a whistle of wind that follows, blinding him.
"Baku.. "
His name.
"You came back..? " Tearfully, he's able to break into the first smile in months. "You came back.. "
"Yeah. " Baek-Jin, this one his mind had conjured up (maybe from the trauma, who knows?) embodies the cruelty of the real one the most. "Humin.. This is getting a bit pathetic, is it? "
"Huh? " He pauses, before shoving the hallucinate in his chest, but Baek-Jin doesn't move. "You made me like this! "
"I didn't make you what you always were. Try to change it, Baku. It doesn't work. "
Humin stares at him, water dripping from his eyes that he refuses to acknowledge, face twisted in something similar to anger but not quite. more like hurt. A kicked puppy. An house pet abandoned and forced into being a stray street dog. Clawing after the scent of their owner. Clawing and Clawing and Clawing. Desperate, loyal, dumb. So dumb.
"Stop saying that."
"Why? " Baek-Jin's hollow laughter echoes throughout the alley. It’s the truth."
"Then what about you! What about fucking God! I'll fucking burn in hell forever if I don't get this right, get me fixed! What don't you understand? " He rants, feverishly red with mini tidal waves dripping down his cheeks. Church and Baek-Jin have always been interlinked. Humin knows that. Who would love a sick, dying, sinful thing anyways? "You fucking hate people like me! Disgusting people, people that have no chance to redeem themselves in front of God─"
"The only person that hates you, Humin, is your fucking self!"
Humin’s head snaps up, startled, flinching as his mind registers the shouting as similar to his father's on his father's bad days. Baek-Jin's fists tremble at his sides, the rain is loud, a wall of static.
"I get so-" Baku chokes up. "I get so fucking scared when you do that."
"Baku.. "
"Hyung, you look at me like you don't even see me. Nevertheless know me. " His focus breaks, breathing going shallow. "Like you’re already somewhere else, some place so far away I can't reach you."
"I do see you. And you're the only one that knows me. Me. I only show me to you. Everyone else sees someone different. Fake. " Baek-jin pauses. "I know you, Baku. "
Faces are inches apart now, they're so close, too close, close enough that Baek-Jin can see every raindrop trembling on Humin eyelashes. Close enough that Humin's hands twitch like he wants to grab him, pull him closer, hold him there and never let go.
"You're not-, " Humin's voice shakes, too raw and hoarse. "You're not real. "
"Does it matter, Baku? I'm here for you."
"Don't. " He cuts off before his mind's hallucination of Baek-Jin can say another word. "Don't let me drag you down. God must hate me and I know why. It's hard to not. Don't make him hate you for someone like me. "
A silence stills after those self deprecating comments, and Baek-Jin's jumped to retort the comments made. Emotionality is in
Baku's nature, Baek-Jin knew that fully. He's sad, he cries, he's happy, he cries, but varied and few times over the years spent together can Baekjin grasp at the moments that Baku would talk about himself so negatively. It's just not right.
"Stop." Baek-jin exhales. "I wouldn't want this. Stop talking about yourself like that. "
Truthfully, Humin wishes that he hated Baek-Jin for that, even though he's dead he's still righteous. He wanted to hate him, hated the golden specks in his slanted eyes, hated that half smile that turns on those lips, hated the sight of him in this alley, or basketball court or rooftop, or at anywhere, and not crave it instead. But alas, he can't. If he could, he would have. This fragility that consumes him, Baku would trade for hatred in a minute.
If he hated Baek-Jin, he wouldn't have never remembered him, his mind wouldn't be replaying their memories like an old, broken, scratched up CD. He wouldn't be in this situation. His mind wouldn't be a battle ground of conflicting thoughts.
Love is ever perplexing in this way, that even after everything unfolds, a warmth still lingers for Baek-Jin. He wanted Baek-Jin to live well, it's always been that way, but to do well with him. He also, simultaneously, wants to get hit by a car, hard and maybe shatter some bones. Hatred is always easier then longing, betrayal and agony that flood through him, mixing together into a shapeless mass without an end or a beginning.
Death is a haunting thing, and this might haunt Baku until his body wears out and memories turn into faint outlines of nostalgia. It's never a easy sight to watch, he can feel his lips tremble as he attempts to swallow back words he might regret. It's happened now, all of it, the death of a relationship, his and BaekJin's. And it's so painfully clear.
"I shouldn't have done that to Gotak. It's selfish and fucking stupid. " BaekJin confesses, voice breaks into self fueled anger, before dissipating into something just louder than sigh. But Baku knows that this is just his mind is playing games; saying what he wanted Baek-Jin to say as a fake "Baek-Jin".
So he'll mourn it, just like how he'll mourn Baek-Jin, maybe for the rest of his life because a friend like him will always remain a friend or more in his eyes. no matter how much times passes. Forever encased by a gold coat of yearning for those days where they had shared the fresh tracks. People will eventually forget, he presumes, but he won't. The revelation stings, akin to alcohol being pressed against a fresh cut. It's supposed to be a bruise by now, aged over time that Humin should already be over it. But the pain is still fresh, like it had been at the start.
"You know, Baku? It's really stupid but the hours after announcing the fight against Eunjang. I was thinking about you, the past years we spent together. "
Before death, it's said that there's a period of time where life is reflected back, every moment. When the final words were said and the final meetings we were held at the bowling alley, all that consumed his mind was the past. All of it, every single day that Baek-Jin could possibly remember. The ones were training would stretch longer because Baku and him disrupted each other's exercises, the ones trademarked with familiar smiles and crinkled eyes, the wins and the losses.
"I really cherished those days, me and you. " Humin confesses.
But even after half a decade, all that Baku desperately wants is to turn time back to the days locked away in the past when they were both stupid, young and sharing a dream of making out the messes that they'd be born into.
"I did too. " Baek-Jin's narrow eyes flicker towards him. It only stays there for a moment that could go unnoticed in a blink of an eye. He turns away, casting his gaze to endless black painted on the sky above. "I did too. "
His next words are so low that Baku has to lean in and ignore the rustling of wind through the leaves as well as the booming sound of nearby sleazy clubs to hear him.
"You were everything to me. " Those narrow, cold eyes soften as his statement leaves his lips and an ache forms in Baku's chest.
He can barely get any response out of his mouth. Words had seemed to be lodged in his throat, unable and unwilling to move, even when he opens his mouth to say something cruel. something easier. His throat locks. He's trembling.
The moment settles between them, suffocating with the things neither of them can say yet. And then Humin does something he almost never does, except that drunken night three years ago,he leans in, just slightly. Forehead to forehead. No space left
"I'm sorry. " Baku whispers, croaky and distraught, and he can already feel BaekJin leaving him again. "I really am, Hyung. "
Love and hate. Fighting. Baek-Jin.
It all ties together like knots and it takes one haste glance at those weighted, burdened narrow eyes to drag him back to their times together which have a reddish tint of resentment. It still hurts to think about. It's brutal that they're so integral to both their lives, almost as if it was intertwined with it. So important to who they were to each other. Each time their eyes would connect on the track, and find each other.
Life is undoubtedly the beautiful experience, but it's also a cruel one. Just as quickly as the distant beauty of spring had become apparent, it's melted away.
─────────────
Baek-Jin likes to smoke his cigarette on the rooftop of this apartment complex.
Gives him a daily session to think if he wants to kiss himself. A good ten to twenty minutes each day. A chance to reflect on his whole life, all the decisions he made and the choices he's currently making ─ like taking over his dead beat old man's cocaine company. Sees it more like Robin hooding it though, his old man would beat him bloody if he was still alive and saw this.
So at the rooftop, his mind is clear and he can just think.
Usually at least.
Until someone's sobbing in Korean, strange for this side of town with mostly high class Europeans and Americans, a hand full of rich Latinos as well. The sobbing gets louder and louder as he follows the noise, ending up a couple steps away from the ledge which he say a young man - couldn't possibly be over seventeen or eight teen standing inches before death.
"You shouldn't kill yourself. " He falls out bluntly as the boy whips his head around. "It won't free you. "
"What do you know? You don't even-, you don't even know me, or what I've gone though!
"Hmn. " Humming, he pulls one of the provided chairs forward to sit in the boy's shadow. "A boy in my orphanage tried to kill himself when I was younger, at eight. When we were on a school trip, he had stayed behind in the dormitories and set everything he could on fire. "
The boy is silent, almost as if the story had forcefully put a pause to his plan.
"He lost his arm. Can barely speak ‘cause of how deep the burns go into his face. " Baek-Jin recalls. "He didn't die, no, he's alive but not really. He's trapped in his own body. He ran before he really could even see life for what it is. Before he could see what his life could be. "
Tears continue to leak out of the kid's eyes. "Life is too cruel. I can't.. I can't handle it. "
"Of course it is. But the human body, for the most part, is very good at surviving. It's your choice if you want to live, though. You're young, you know? "
"Okay." He whispers. "Okay, okay, I'm.. I'm coming down. "
"Name? "
"Oh Beomseok. "
"Your clothes? "
"Oh, uh,.. It's nothing. "
"You look like a mess. "
Dragging his eyes off of the skyline, Beomseok's heavy gaze glances over himself. "Well, I mean, don't most people look bad when they're down on their luck and burdened with hard times? "
"Money? "
"..don't have any. " He mumbles. "My dad cut me off. "
"You pay your bills? "
"Can't."
"And the landlords haven't done anything? "
"They will, they.. One of their sons and his friends had chased me down-, pulling their eyes back and making weird noises. Calling me ching chong, or Chinese over and over again. like I was some animal. they just kept laughing, and laughing as they kicked and punched and yanked at my hair.
Baek-Jin almost wants to laugh due to how similar their upbringings' were. This economy truely doesn't have place to dream unless you're rich. rich beyond comprehension.
"I tried to get a roommate, it's too early to tell and no one wants to room with a seventeen year old. The loan too.. No bank trusts me at all. "
"The union will loan some. How much? "
"Uh, the union? " Beomseok repeats, struck by how similar it sounds to a district gang back home before locking eyes contact with Baek-Jin for the first time. "You're-, you're Na Baek-Jin? "
"Yeah. " Baek-Jin ultimately decides to pass him Hakho's card instead, the emblem of a wild tiger front and center. "Here's the card. "
And Beomseok's eyes glue to his tattoes, Baek-Jin knows these tattoos are too much aside from the wild tiger emblem inked against his neck and collar line. But this is New York now, not small fish Eunjang. First impressions matter, he needs to the chain to run smoothly and he can only do that when the people under him know they're under for a reason. A blatantly clear one. He needs people to fear him. Fear is power.
"Yo, Hyung, " The upbeat yet deep voice answers almost instantly, a ghost of a Cheshire Cat grin able to be heard in his tone. "Long time no see, huh? "
"Wooyoung, Don't tell me you got baby trapped. Jesus Christ. Did you drop out? Are you stupid? "
"I didn't get fuckin’ baby trapped, okay? I'm going to Trinity High school! My baby Leejin is the light of my life! I'd give the world so he could smile forever like he does now──"
"Okay, okay, You love your kid, alright. I get it. He's cute. " Baek-Jin sighs. "You gonna house him, then? "
"Oi, I don't like that tone, Hyung! "
"Tell someone that cares. "
"Fuck you," Wooyoung sulks. "And yes, I am trying to house him, okay? I didn't say I'm the world's best father. I've been doing this shit for two weeks. I feel more like an alcoholic uncle to my kid bouncing hotel rooms like this. "
This guy..
"The apartment next door to me is free. I bought it yesterday. " Baek-Jin offers, that strange niceness he shows only once every blue moon basically. "Move in. You'll have a roommate. "
"Oh? Is he okay with kids? Like baby proofing the place and shit?
"He seems like he needs the extra company. Like a roommate, someone. He's too lonely. I see my younger self in him. He's an orphan " Baek-Jin reassures. "Don't tease him too much, okay? He's a good kid, younger than you by a year I guess. "
"A name would be helpful, grandpa. "
"Beomseok. Oh Beomseok. "
"Okay, okayokayokay. I owe you big time. You're a life saver, text me the address quickly, yeah? I'm catching an Uber. "
"Just continue keeping the cocaine chain back home and in Seoul smooth then you're good. Got it. "
"Got it. " Wooyoung echoes, before snickering. His son had intently focused on their conversation with eyes big and round and so adorable, just like her mother's. "Leejin's waving to you. "
"Tell him I said hi, and that uncle baek-Jin's coming soon. We'll get ice cream and play action figures tomorrow. "
─────────────
Baek-Jin couldn't have picked a better guy. Really.
But it's still fucking weird that it's oh beomsoek, the one he knew back in school.
For the sole reason that somehow, rather than speech therapy, or specialised teachers, or anything he's drained his money it no so he could hear his son's infrequent voice, Beomseok gets so many words out of him in such little time without even trying. he's just there and he talks, and Wooyoung almost wants to cry every time he hears his angel talk.
Leejin's in his bed inside Wooyoung's room now while they toddler proof the apartment, Beomseok quickly making some chicken and rice meal before throwing it into the oven. Beomseok's his opposite through and through ; quite, soft, a bit of a push over.
"Uh.. Wooyoung, right? "
"No shit. " He mumbles, just his regular lingo, before watching a faint hurt bloom on Beomseok's soft features. "Sorry, We met before, right? "
".. Yeah. Are you also.. in the Union? "
"Mhm."
"Why? "
"Baek-Jin saved me when I was getting beat up by my dad's lone sharks. I would have died if not for him. Owe it to him. "
"I see. "
"You have a pretty name. Sorry! I didn't tell you before. " Wooyoung compliments, words slipping out of his mouth before he can think through them. "Pretty name for a pretty face. "
"Pretty face? You have to be kidding, " He stammers, pale skin flushing pink. "You're.. you're really funny. "
"Nah, dude, I'm not. I like pretty things. Y'know, I love pretty people. " Wooyoung retorts casually. "You're my type. "
"Huuh? Are you-, are you drunk already? "
"Nope." He answers, shortly. "You want to drink though? Baek-Jin Hyung gave us champagne as a house warming gift. "
"You know what.. sure. fuck. Just not too much incase Leejin is awake. "
"Okay, okay. " Wooyoung hushly laughs. "Do you like being a stand in mom? "
Laughing, Beomseok ends up half nodding. "It's nice being needed. It's nice being wanted. I never got that before. "
"Ah, that's a shame. " Wooyoung sighs dramatically. "I would have chased after you if told me I could. You're my type, y'know. Cute, quiet, easily flustered. "
"Huh? "
"Huh." Wooyoung mocks.
"I'm..─What about the real mother? "
"We're not together. She left me for another man with a safer life. "
"Oh. " Embarrassed, he breaks his gaze and drags his eyes to his hands. "I'm sorry. "
"Don't be, " Wooyoung says, oddly warm. the warmth that Beomseok had always chased but never held. Until it was on the other vouch of the living room, smiling softly. "If it didn't happen, I would never meet you. Right, beomseok ah? "
Nodding, a small smile inches on his face. "Right."
"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, drink up, we can't waste this! "
"Okay, you have to drink too, idiot! "
"Got it, got it! "
"The bottle's nearly empty! "
"Holy shit! Good job, Beomseok !
Without noticing, Wooyoung's hand had reached out and carded into his hair, but now that the celebrations fizzled out and the bottle was finished, it still stayed there.
"Soft." Wooyoung mumbles.
"Eh? "
"Your hair.. " He repeats. "..looks so soft. "
"Oh."
"Can I touch it, Beomseok? "
"Uh-, " His brain malfunctions for a second before nodding. "Yeah, sure. Soft? "
"Soft." Wooyoung grins at him, eyes glassy from drunkenness as he leans his head against the crook of other boy's neck.
"Skin is also soft. Like Snow White. " He mumbles into soft skin, tracing from Beomseok's chin to his neck with his index figure.
"Huh? What are you talking about? " Beomseok chuckles breathlessly.
"You're like Snow White, Beomseok ah. " Wooyoung slurs, compliments rolling off his tongue naturally, as he brushes his thumb against Beomseok's right cheekbone. "Delicate. Soft.. Pretty, y’know? "
"We should, "
"We should? "
"We should go to bed, c’mon. " Beomseok decides, pulling Wooyoung's arm over his shoulder, leaning the taller and heavier boy against his skinny frame.
"Hey, idiot, this was about to get interesting-, why cut it off so quickly? "
"Interesting my ass. "
"What? You scared you're gonna feel, " Wooyoung lazily put his hand over Beomseok's heart. For a moment, everything is drenched in a thick silence except for a fast paced heart beat. "Something? "
Throwing Wooyoung's hand away, Beomseok groans. "You're too fucking drunk, man. "
"I'm not... " Wooyoung mumbles before falling into the shorter's frame yet again draping his body against Beomseok like a weighted blanket, before knocking completely out. Beomseok tries to poke at his check, but he's gone. Really gone to sleep land. And just like that, he needs to take care of two babies.
But, at least, he's needed.
he feels needed for once.
Even wanted, almost.
Such an unfamiliar feeling from such a silly thing. Maybe life was getting better.