Chapter Text
News travels fast between schools.
Some new kid from a neighbouring school challenged Seongje– someone loud, reckless and desperate to prove himself worthy of respect; and for once, Seongje didn’t wrap it up easily nor was bored. He actually fought him. Hard. After weeks of being away from fights, being away from almost everyone, Seongje had made his big comeback. He made it like an announcement, always so messy, so careless– so Seongje.
Gotak hears it from some guy as he walks past the courtyard with Baku ranting by his side, the conversation about what they’re having for dinner tonight becoming white noise for Gotak at the mention of Seongje.
“Damn, people are saying that the guy almost passed out” The student laughs under his breath and Gotak has the sudden urge to wipe that smile off his face, to smack that face into Baku’s ‘No fighting’ graffiti. “That Seongje son of a bitch is a lunatic”
“You have to be as lunatic as him to actually fight him” Another guy adds and Gotak scoffs, his most recent bruise stinging as he does so. He still remembers the smile he gave Seongje after the punch landed on his cheekbone, before landing a kick to his face that made Seongje’s mouth bleed.
So yeah, maybe you did have to be at least a bit crazy to go looking for a fight with him.
The thing is, Gotak isn’t violent by nature– He’s reactive. A sweetheart with a quick-temper, some teachers had said during his life. It was easy to piss him off, it still is.
And nothing pisses him off more than Seongje acting like he doesn’t care about anything.
“You okay?” Baku asks, forgetting about his one-sided conversation about dinner.
“Yeah. Perfect.” He drifts his attention from the two boys in the back to face Baku. “I forgot I had to pick up some things for my mom today” He lies, adjusting the strap of his bag on his chest. “You can have dinner with Suho, okay?”
“What?” Baku frowns, disappointed like a child. “Come on, Gogo, we haven’t had a pizza Friday in like–forever!” He steps forward and wraps his arm heavily around Gotak’s shoulder. “And you now how Friday is the day Suho moves to Sieun’s for the weekend”
“Great!” Gotak frees himself as smooth as he can from Baku’s iron grasp “Now you can divide the check into three!” He pats his friend’s shoulder and smiles “I’ll go as soon as I finish, leave some slices for me, would ya?”
“Don’t leave me alone with those freaks! I don’t wanna be there when they get all lovey-dovey!” Baku almost shouts as Gotak walks away, walking backwards so he can still talk to him.
“You can do it! I’ll be back” He raises his fist in the air and smiles before turning away and starts walking towards the place that pulls him in like a magnet.
He finds Seongje exactly where he expected: leaning on the wall of the underpass, wiping almost dried blood off his knuckles with his sleeve. He looks tired, calm– almost bored. Hyuntak hates that look.
He steps closer, his jaw tight.
“Had fun today?” Gotak asks, his voice flat. He hides his clenched fists in his pockets.
Seongje raises his eyes, lazy and uninterested behind those glasses which now seemed dirtier than usual, but Gotak could see the faint glisten of his gaze at the sight of him.
“Oh” He says with a half-smirk. “You heard”
“Of course I heard, you made a whole big deal out of it”
Gotak watches as Seonje takes a cigarette out of his pocket and lights it up without taking his eyes off of him.
“Had to let them know I’m back” He says, voice and eyes full with amusement. “And had to get my pup back, too” Smoke leaves his mouth as he smiles.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Why not? It suits you.” Seongje gestures at him, cigarette in hand. “Always following the scent of trouble. Especially mine.”
Baku’s words come to Gotak’s head at that moment. ‘That fucker will always try to make you snap, just ignore him’ So he tries. He inhales deeply before answering.
“Why did you fight him?”
Seongje scoffs, taking another drag of his cigarette.
“Why? Is he a new little friend of yours I should know about?”
“You don’t need to know shit about me.” Okay. So maybe ignoring Seongje isn’t as easy as Baku made it sound. “You disappear for days and now you come back to fight some poor random new guy, what an impressive comeback, really.” Sarcasm bleeds out of his words.
“He asked for it.” Seongje’s smirk deepens. “What about it? Did you wanna go first?”
The tone is mocking, but the look isn’t, and Gotak feels the need to make Seongje choke on his own cigarette.
“So what? Is he your new toy or something?” He steps closer, the bitter smell of smoke filling his lungs.
“He isn’t better than you, if that’s what you’re asking”
“It’s not. I don’t care what you think about me.”
“Well, damn” Seongje takes a step forward and Gotak doesn’t move, but stares at him with furrowed brows. “If you are in such a mood why did you come find me? Don’t tell me you missed me.”
“You–” Gotak stumbles to punch him but Seongje is quicker to grab his wrist before Gotak can even brush his nose with his fist.
“No new tricks?” Seongje fake-pouts. “That’s disappointing, pup.”
Gotak twists his wrist, trying to break free, but Seongje’s grip tightens just enough to hold him in place. His hand slides from Gotak’s wrist to his forearm and yanks him forward just enough to break whatever distance Gotak was clinging to.
“Careful,” Seongje warns, voice low. “You swing too slow.”
Gotak reacts on instinct, his –good– knee comes up, his other fist aims for Seongje’s ribs. For a second, he almost lands it.
Almost.
Seongje twists his body, catching Gotak’s arm and using his own momentum to throw him sideways against the wall. Not hard enough to injure him, but enough to remind him who’s in control.
Gotak grunts his breath is knocked out of him, but he refuses to fall. His breathing comes out erratic, almost giving up before he hears Seonje laugh and his blood boils. He pushes off the wall and launches again.
This time Seongje blocks him, hooks an arm around his waist and turns him, forcing Gotak’s back to his chest. Gotak struggles, furious–mostly with himself.
“Same moves, Tak-ah,” Seongje murmurs in his ear. “You make it too easy.”
“Shut up–” Gotak elbows him hard, but Seongje dodges, catching the elbow and pressing his forearm across Gotak’s chest, pinning him.
The fight is fast, sharp and intimate in a way that Gotak doesn’t want to think too much about.
Gotak hates how well Seongje knows his movements, and hates how close he is.
In a last attempt to overpower Seongje, Gotak’s strength comes fueled by hatred and desperation: he plants his feet, grabs Seongje’s arm with both hands, and shoves back with a strength neither of them expects. Anger floods his muscles–hot, clean, blinding.
Seongje’s grip slips. Gotak twists under him, hooks his shoulder beneath Seongje’s chest, and throws him over with a sharp, furious heave.
The taller boy crashes against the wall in front of him, glasses crooked on the bridge of his nose, hair disheveled and eyes closed in pain–or pleasure, Gotak isn’t sure. Seongje blinks, dazed for a brief second before he laughs. That stupid, maniac laugh that made Gotak’s fist itch with anticipation.
“Well, holy shit,” he breathes out between quiet laughs, pushing a hand through his hair, trying (and failing) to straighten his glasses. He doesn’t take his eyes off Gotak, and it makes his skin tingle. “Didn't know you had that in you, I just had to press the right buttons, uh?”
Gotak doesn’t answer. He’s too busy trying to breathe without looking like he’s shaking.
Seongje wipes a smear of blood from the corner of his lip, still smiling–almost impressed.
“That was good, pup. Really good.” There’s a spark in his gaze, real surprise, something electric beneath the amusement, as if Gotak had just done a fascinating trick just for him.
Gotak feels a strange heat in his chest: anger, pride, adrenaline, something else he refuses to name, but he doesn’t get the chance to figure it out because right then, Seongje’s phone fills the silence of the tunnel, loud and insufferable just like its owner.
The screen lights up his face. The name on it makes that smile of his falter, just slightly.
Baekjin.
Seongje sighs–annoyed, but instantly more alert, and answers without taking his eyes fully off Gotak.
“What.”
A sharp voice comes through the speaker, not loud enough for Gotak to hear him.
Something in Seongje’s posture changes: his back straightens, his jaw tightens. The shift is subtle, automatic and loyal.
“I said I’m coming,” he says, trying to be bored but not hiding the tension. He cuts the call before Baekjin can say more.
He pockets the phone and looks back at Gotak, that worn-out half-smirk tugging at his mouth again.
“Duty calls,” he says with a grin that tries to sound cocky but doesn’t fully hide the shift in his posture–alert, ready, focused.
The right-hand man returning to his post.
Gotak wipes the sweat and dust from his cheek, forcing his breath to steady.
“Guess the boss whistles and you run,” he mutters, bitterness slipping through.
Seongje tilts his head, eyes narrowing. “You jealous?” he mocks lightly. “Wanted me all to yourself?”
“Fuck off.”
Seongje steps closer again–just one step, but it’s enough for Gotak’s pulse to spike.
“We can finish our little match later,” he says, brushing a bit of dust off Gotak’s shoulder with infuriating casualness. “Don’t sulk.”
“I’m not sulking.”
“Sure.”
He turns to leave the tunnel, hands in his pockets, completely unfazed by the fight.
Gotak watches him go, jaw tight, a knot twisting in his stomach. He hates how immune Seongje seems, how he knows what buttons to push to keep Gotak just right where he wants him.
But more than anything, he hates the cold realization settling in:
Seongje wasn’t just some reckless idiot picking fights. He is Baekjin’s right hand, and Gotak had just let himself get pulled into something that could blow back on Baku somehow.
Hard.
The guilt crashes over him like iced water, choking whatever heat the fight had left behind.
“Stupid,” he mutters to himself, picking up his bag from the floor. “So fucking stupid.”
Seongje walks to the warehouse as if the fight didn’t wind him, but the truth bleeds through the little things: the way he has to adjust his glasses three times because of how crooked one of the temples got, the slight wince he hides when he cracks his neck and the way his foot aches more than he remembered.
He exhales, adjusting his jacket.
Gotak throwing him like that– he hadn't expected it.
He liked it.
“That little bastard is improving.” he mutters to himself, though the smile tugging at his lips is far from annoyed. “Interesting.”
His smile fades when he enters the warehouse and is greeted with the smell of oxide and dust, and the figure of Baekjin waiting patiently for him on the couch, shoulders straight and face unreadable. Not that Seongje cares about what he’s thinking anyways. The leader doesn’t take his eyes off the folder he’s flipping through. Seongje flicks the cigarette he had been smoking to the ground and stomps it out.
The room is filled with silence, and for a moment it feels like Baekjin won’t say anything.
Then, without looking up, he speaks.
“You took your time.” Baekjin’s voice is as sharp as his eyes.
Seongje shrugs, hands in his pockets. “Had something to deal with.”
That makes Baekjin look up, examining him from head to toe.
“...A problem?” He tilts his head slightly.
“It was nothing.” Seongje meets his eyes with boredom.
Baekjin raises an eyebrow, scanning his looks. “It doesn’t seem like nothing.”
“Nothing important, at least.”
“Heard you had fun with a new kid.”
Seongje scoffs. “Of course you did.”
“Did he really take you this much time?” Baekjin closes the folder. Slowly and deliberately, like everything he does.
“Does it matter? I already dealt with him.”
“And who else?” Baekjin gets up and steps closer, studying him with unsettling calm. His eyes linger on the cut at Seongje’s lip.
Seongje shook his head slightly. “None of your business.”
“See? That’s where you’re wrong.” Baekjin lets out a small, ironic laugh “This is entirely my business, and I expect you to be here when I call you.”
Seongje’s tongue presses against the inside of his cheek, he doesn’t answer but he doesn’t look away from Baekjin either.
The silence stretches for a little too long and Baekjin notices, he always does.
“You’re hesitating.” He looks unimpressed. “You are,” Baekjin analyzes Seongje's face before continuing “distracted.”
Seongje’s pulse spikes, but he keeps his expression blank.
Baekjin circles him once, slow and controlled, like a predator evaluating a prey that’s acting out of pattern.
“Don’t let some impulsive schoolyard trash mess with your priorities,” he says quietly. “You know your place. And your responsibilities.”
Seongje’s fingers curl in his pockets. He knows Baekjin’s not talking about Gotak specifically, but he wouldn’t be surprised if he were. Baekjin always knows, somehow.
“I know,” he says.
Baekjin stops in front of him, eyes narrowing just slightly. “Good. Because I don’t need divided attention right now.” A beat passes. “Especially not from you.”
Seongje holds his gaze without blinking.
“I’m not divided.”
Baekjin watches him for a long, heavy moment–measuring him, peeling him apart in ways only he can.
Then he steps back.
“See that you aren’t.” He turns back to the couch to pick up the folder and shove it into Seongje’s chest. “Let’s go.”
Seongje picks it up before turning away and walking behind Baekjin. It seems like it’ll be a long night.
Gotak’s walk home feels way longer and more difficult than usual.
Every step reminds him of the fight: the ache on his knee, the sting in his knuckles, the phantom sensation of Seongje’s arm across his chest. He cracks his neck, trying to make it go away but the feeling clings to him like the smell of smoke on his clothes.
Once he gets home, Gotak doesn’t even bother to turn on the lights, but he can see a small note illuminated only by the moonlight peeking through the kitchen window.
Had to take a long shift, I’ll be home tomorrow.
There’s food in the fridge, eat before sleeping!!
I love you, don’t get in trouble :)
-Mom
Gotak sighs, tracing the writing with his index finger. The red ink of the pen is similar to the red cuts on his knuckles.
What would his mom think if she saw him like this? If she saw him chasing the man that helped Baekjin to break him forever and crushed his life.
There’s so many people he’d disappoint if they knew he was the one looking for Seongje in the darkness of the underpass.
In his room, he drops his bag and stares at himself in the mirror.
Dust on his hoodie, a dark bruise forming near his jaw and his pulse racing heavily like he was still throwing punches.
Gotak tries washing his face, as if the water could wash away the evidence of the fight. He takes off his hoodie and shirt all at once, the room suddenly too warm for him to bear, and turns sideways to have a better look at his ribs– his pale skin now splashed with purple and red over the old yellowish-brown spots.
Seongje was all over him. On his skin, on the dried blood on his knuckles, in his head.
He traces the red lines on his ribs, following the bruises with his eyes until he’s met with the elastic of his boxers and sees marks going down under his pants.
There isn’t a part of him that Seongje hasn’t broken.
His heart almost stops when his phone chimes on his back pocket, the vibration travelling through all his body.
The screen lights up and he sees Baku’s texts. Shit. He curses under his breath for forgetting dinner.
Baku
[Image]
pizza so good i forgot my best friend left me
:p
Gotak smiles at the picture, a selfie that shows Baku’s face close to the camera, mouth full of pizza and his hand coated in oil. He can almost hear Sieun asking why he always has to stain everything with food.
Baku
yo u alive?
where r u?
He sighs and hits his forehead slightly with the phone. He wipes the sweat out of his hands on his pants before answering.
Gotak
yeah, everything good :)
it took me longer than expected, im home now
sorry i couldn’t go :/
He’s not used to lying to Baku, he hates it. His best friend always sees through him even when he lies, but he can’t deal with this right now. Or never, actually. He wishes the ground opened right there and sucked him down. No, better yet, he wishes the ground opens and it takes the whole Union down, so he doesn’t have to deal with anything nor anyone ever again.
Baku
nah it’s okay
should’ve asked for help man
u know i can always help you
Yeah. He does. Baku’s the most loyal person he’s met in his entire life. There isn’t a thing that Baku wouldn’t do for you. You could ask him to bring you the sun and the moon at the same time and he’d find a way to do it without disturbing anyone. And yet here he was, hiding from Baku to go find Seongje in a dark alleyway. He was so fucking ungrateful.
Gotak doesn’t answer, he can’t think of anything. The screen lights up again and he sees the little dots in the chat.
Baku
heard seongje’s dumb ass fought again, saw ppl talking abt it
he didn’t get you dragged into that shit again right?
Gotak’s stomach twists. He types, deletes, types again.
Gotak
was hoping he was gone for good
im okay tho, don’t worry
And it was true, in some way. He really hoped one day Seongje’d just stop coming back, but he never did. He always comes back, leaning into a wall, hair framing his glasses and cigarette lightning his eyes.
Gotak never knows when they are gonna meet again. Everything is always as Seongje pleases, he can appear when you turn the corner, right outside school, on the secret path Juntae had found to get home without anyone seeing him. He was like a shadow, always silent but close to you even when he wasn’t there.
And in some twisted way, deep deep down, there is a part of Gotak that always hopes to find Seongje waiting for him somewhere. He tells himself it’s just for the boost of adrenaline that it gives him, the way Seongje doesn’t go easy on him because of his knee, the way they are always pushing each other to their limit– trying to find the breaking point; but he knows there’s something darker and more twisted than that.
Baku
not what i asked
he didn't get to you, right?
Gotak sighs, throwing his phone on the bed and getting into the shower, hoping it would ground him a little.
Now, freshly showered, he drops onto the bed and checks his phone again.
Baku
[Image]
i’m soooo third whiling here dude
they’re so clingy it scares me
i’m going home now, u must be sleeping
goodnight gogo!!!! baku loves you
The image shows Sieun resting his legs on top of Suho’s, who has his arm around his boyfriend while Baku hugs a pillow and the three of them play videogames on the couch. Gotak really wishes he was there.
He’s grateful Baku kind of forgets about the topic, he really doesn’t have the strength to talk about Seongje anymore.
Gotak stays there, staring at the ceiling as if it had the answers to the questions he hadn’t even been able to form yet.
He turns to the side and hisses when the sheets brush the fresh bruises on his ribs and tries to find a comfortable position to sleep in.
The frame with a picture of Baku and him stares at Gotak from the nightstand, and it feels worse than the pressure on his chest, Seongje’s touch lingering there like a burn.
He shuts his eyes closed and forces himself to sleep with Seongje all around him like smoke and the image of Baku smiling right in front of him.
Tomorrow’s gonna be another day.
Night has already swallowed the city by the time Seongje gets home. The house is quiet when he steps inside, not peaceful but empty. His parents are home, technically; their shoes are by the door but the place feels as deserted as it always does. They don’t greet him. They never do. They barely look up anymore.
It used to sting, years ago. He would get home after a fight, uniform ruined, glasses broken and a suspension in hand, hoping he would get a reaction–irritation, disappointment, acknowledgment, anything that proved he existed to them.
Now they’re just a phantom of a family that never even existed.
Seongje passes by the living room where the TV flickers in front of his father, who doesn’t glance away from the screen. His mother closes the door to her office without noticing him. It’s routine. Predictable. Almost comforting in its numbness.
He heads to his room and shuts the door behind him, and only then does he breath.
He drops onto the mattress without turning on the lamp, letting the darkness settle over him. He takes off his glasses and sees that they are still crooked–the thought making him let out a dry, involuntary laugh.
He wasn’t expecting that kind of strength from him. Or that spark of anger and frustration lighting up Gotak’s face.
He presses the heels of his hands against his eyes.
It’s stupid how much he keeps replaying it. He tries to shake it off, but his mind drifts back anyway: Gotak, angry and flushed, glaring at him like he wanted to understand him and break him at the same time.
Seongje exhales through a quiet, exhausted laugh.
He lies back, staring at the faint cracks on his ceiling. His parents’ muffled lives continue outside his door, distant and irrelevant. They stopped mattering a long time ago, and maybe that should bother him–but it doesn’t. It’s easier this way. Cleaner.
There has never been a place where Seongje had wanted to come back, nor a place he could call home. No one has ever felt worthy of anything else than entertaining him for a while, until he lost interest. Not even Baekjin, who’s always making Seongje come back to him by tugging on his leash, has been able to make Seongje think of the Union as somewhere he belongs.
But Go Hyuntak–
He has something Seongje hadn’t seen before, he isn’t calm and calculating like Sieun, who had always given Seongje great fights. Hell, the little bastard even fucking stabbed him–he has honestly given him things to think about before sleeping.
Hyuntak is reactive, explosive, he’s all bark and bite. He’s so sensitive to Seongje’s words it’s almost funny, one word and he’s already snarling, one shove and he’s putting all his strength on his kicks.
He’s not controlled or patient, Hyuntak feels everything. He lives every emotion like a live wire, and once Seongje touched it, he couldn’t unfeel the spark.
Seongje drapes an arm over his eyes, exhaling slowly. Hyuntak should be easy to shake off, someone that volatile should be nothing more than a fun distraction, a brief obsession to burn through and forget.
But every time Seongje walks away, something drags him back. Every damn time.
It’s like there’s this magnetic pull between them: chaotic, unwanted and, worst of all, inevitable. They fight, then leave, then collide again, as if the universe keeps folding the same corner of their lives together until they overlap.
Maybe it’s because Baekjin has this weird obsession with Park Humin, that always leads Seongje to fight him and his little friend group.
Maybe it’s how Hyuntak pushes back harder than anyone ever has.
Maybe it’s because, for once, someone doesn’t bend around Seongje– he slams into him full-force. And it’s intoxicating, the way fighting Gotak makes him feel alive.
Seongje slides a hand down his face, cursing under his breath at the overwhelming feeling of his thoughts.
“Fucking insufferable”
Gotak feels something similar to disappointment when he gets out of the shower and sees that the bruises Seongje left on his body a week ago are almost gone.
He brushes the skin there, forcing himself not to wonder if he’ll see him again, if Seongje’s going to leave his mark on him again. He hopes he doesn’t, even though he wishes to.
His phone chimes on his nightstand and he drags himself to pick it up.
Suho
yo
u still up for practice?
i got here early
He’ll always be grateful to Sieun for bringing Suho into their lives, he’s one of the kindest people Gotak’s ever met and he protects everyone the same way Baku does, both with their hearts on their sleeve and the ability to fight anyone who threatens someone weaker but using it wisely.
Gotak always looks forward to his training sessions with Suho, both helping each other to improve even though they don’t even practice the same sport. It is nice, honestly. Having someone as passionate as him to do this with. Baku didn’t fight anymore–for obvious reasons–, and as much as Gotak loved him, Juntae wasn’t the best trainee he’s ever had. And Sieun, well, is Sieun.
So it’s nice, having Suho to turn his brain off for a while and just enjoy the only thing he’s ever been good at.
Gotak
omw
i’ll be there in 15 :)
When Gotak gets to the gym, the chill air of the morning left behind the door, he sees Suho already putting on his gloves, the place almost silent except for the faint video playing on Suho’s phone.
“Planning to leave the country?” Gotak jokes using the few lines he could pick up from the video.
Suho doesn’t turn around to answer but Gotak can hear the smile on his voice.
“A man can dream.” He now turns around. “Woah–rough night?” Suho asks, scanning him from head to toe.
And it had been a long night. Way too long.
When Gotak was coming back from his night workout, a tall figure was leaning against a wall near his home. The man had a cigarette in hand and Gotak’s breath itched with the immediate, involuntary thought of Seongje. He curled his fists inside the pocket of his hoodie, inhaled deeply, and kept walking toward that man– telling himself he shouldn’t wish it was him.
He shouldn’t. He didn’t.
He absolutely didn’t.
He came closer, the adrenaline already warming his back for an ambush that never came. The man didn’t move. Didn’t even straighten up. Just stayed there, head down, minding his own business.
Gotak walked past him and waited–waited for the attack from behind, for the provocation, for the voice he shouldn’t recognize so easily.
Nothing. Not a sound.
So he turned back.
Because of course he did, he always does.
Once he was fully facing the stranger, the man stepped out of the shadows and raised his eyebrows, giving Gotak a lazy up-and-down.
“Can I help you?” the older man asked, exhaling a cloud of smoke.
Gotak crinkled his nose at the smell. “No–sorry. Didn’t mean to stare, I just… I thought you were someone else.” He bowed quickly and kept walking, ignoring the muttered complaints about annoying kids.
He spent the whole night telling himself that he didn’t actually want that man to be Seongje, that he doesn’t care if the guy disappears for days or weeks at a time.
Gotak hates it. Hates that Seongje doesn’t even have to try, that just existing somewhere out there is enough to keep him up at night.
And he hates–truly, desperately hates–that last night, he would’ve given anything to round the corner and actually find him there.
Finally, Gotak answers. “Something like that.”
Suho, now in the ring, raises an eyebrow as he gives him a too-observant look, as if he’s doing math in his head. Gotak doesn’t think Suho even knows how to do math, honestly.
Gotak throws his bag on the bench and takes off his hoodie to put on his gloves and walk to the ring, where Suho keeps observing him–chin resting on his gloved hands.
“Did you sleep?” He asks, tilting his head as if looking at Gotak from another angle would give him the answer.
“Yeah” He lies. And Suho knows it’s a lie the second the word leaves his mouth.
“Ah” Suho answers, adjusting his wraps with almost an exaggerated calm. That word alone felt like an accusation of some sort.
Gotak frowns and climbs onto the ring facing Suho. “What?”
Suho lets out a small smile. “Nothing.” He says with a shrug. “Did you spend the night with someone?”
“What are you even talking about right now?” Gotak bursts, as if he’s tired of the conversation already.
“Relax, man.” Suho raises both hands. “I’m not gonna ask.”
“Yeah, because there’s nothing to ask.” He replies, almost too sharp, too defensive.
“I’m just saying, if you’re gonna come train with your head somewhere else, at least warn me. So I can punch slower to make up for it.” Suho jokes and starts warming up, smiling at Gotak who just clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes.
“Imma kick your ass anyways” He smiles and Suho shoves his shoulder jokingly.
“That’s more like my Gotak!”
Once they finish the warm up, they touch gloves and Suho takes the first stance, bouncing lightly on his feet.
“Alright,” he says. “We’ll start slow.”
Gotak nods, rolling out his shoulders. His body feels ready–his mind, not so much.
Suho throws a light jab. Gotak blocks it easily.
Another jab. A small hook. Gotak dodges both, but there’s a beat of delay, like his thoughts are half a second behind his movements.
“Yo! You’re still distracted,” Suho says, breath steady. “Focus.”
“I am focused.” Quickly, Gotak throws a jab that Suho doesn’t expect–and he can’t dodge. “See? I’m focused.” He smiles and Suho laughs, incredulous.
“Okay. You wanna play like that–”
As the pace of their sparring picks up, Gotak finds himself doing something that is a surprise even to him. He analyzes. He actually thinks before reacting with punches. He observes the way Suho covers himself, how he is weaker when he stands with all his weight on his left foot, and finds a way to throw a punch directly to Suho’s, and Gotak seems as surpised as his friends as it lands.
Suho stumbles back a little, a small trace of blood coming out of his nose.
“Holy shit, man, sorry! I’m–Are you okay?” Gotak rushes to his side, trying to take a look.
“It’s okay.” Suho says, wiping the blood with his forearm. “It’s nothing, dude, we can keep going.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah” Suho bumps Gotak’s head slightly with his glove, almost brushing it. “You really got me there, huh? That was good! I jus’ wasn’t expecting it.”
And then a thought hits Gotak’s mind like a train crashing into his head.
Seongje would’ve dodged it.
What the actual fuck?
He has to actually shake his head to try to make the thought leave his brain.
Suho sniffs, testing if his nose is still bleeding, and raises his gloves again.
“Alright. Round two,” he says.
Gotak forces a breath out through his nose, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet.
He’s fine. He is focused. Or he should be.
But as soon as Suho lunges forward, Gotak’s brain betrays him again–comparing Suho’s footwork to someone else’s, the way Suho raises his guard to the way another pair of hands once reached for his collar with irritating precision.
He tries again. They circle each other, and he throws a combination–not bad, not sloppy, but missing the sharp instinct he usually has. Suho blocks more than he should be able to.
Gotak feels the frustration build in his chest, hot and irrational.
Why the hell is he thinking about him again?
He ducks under Suho’s swing, but instead of countering, he stares at Suho’s stance, unconsciously comparing it.
Seongje never kept his weight that way.
Seongje always shifted right before–
He catches himself. Cuts the thought violently.
Suho moves with care, steady and patient–everything Seongje isn’t.
Maybe that’s what irritates Gotak the most, that gentleness only makes him crave the chaos he keeps pretending he doesn’t need.
The next punch he throws is too heavy. Suho dodges it, brows furrowed.
“Yo.” Suho drops his guard slightly. “Seriously, what’s going on with you?”
He hates how a single face keeps showing up behind every punch he throws. How every mistake he makes echoes the thought of how he would’ve reacted. How every silence, every pause, every shift in the fight feels like a ghost of the last time Seongje pushed him, touched him, smirked at him–
Enough.
Gotak shakes his head again, harder this time, as if physically trying to throw the thought out of his skull.
Gotak’s heart jumps, and before he can stop it, he punches with everything he has. Suho catches his fist mid-air, not letting Gotak get to him and twisting his wrist slightly to catch his friend’s attention.
“What the hell’s gotten into you?” Suho’s brows are furrowed as he looks directly at Gotak waiting for him to answer. “Are you done?”
Gotak breaks free from Suho’s grasp and rolls out one shoulder, trying to fix his shirt–gasping for air.
“Sorry.” He exhales.
“The fuck, man.” Suho takes off his gloves. “We should just leave it here, Jesus.”
“I don’t know what happened–”
“Yeah, I hope.” Suho lets himself fall to the ring floor. “I don’t need another friend knocking me out, you know?”
Gotak’s heart breaks a little at that. He knows that wasn’t Suho’s intention, but he feels horrible. This isn’t like him. Suho isn’t Seongje, he shouldn’t have reacted like that–damn, he shouldn’t have even thought about that fucker.
He sits besides Suho, resting his head on the other’s shoulder, both trying to catch their breaths.
“I’m sorry, Suho-yah” Gotak says, not daring to look at him.
“It’s okay.” Suho says, kindly as ever, patting his knee with care. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you today but this is never the way out, okay? You can talk to us–to me. We won’t judge you, whatever it is.”
Gotak sighs, closing his eyes. He really hopes they don’t, even though he knows he deserves it.
“You’re paying for lunch, you know” Suho finishes and Gotak lets out a genuine laugh, bumping Suho’s shoulder with his head.
The bowling alley is louder than usual, crowded with bodies moving crates, stacking boxes that Seongje didn’t even know they existed or what they had inside–shuffling around with the flat, tired expressions of people who only half knew why they were here.
Seongje is sitting on a metal table, swinging one leg lazily as he watches the chaos with mild amusement. He should be helping, Baekjin had said something about “teamwork” and “efficiency” but Seongje is bored out of his skull.
Until his brain, without his permission, supplies a very unwelcome thought:
Hyuntak would hate everyone here.
He’d not let anyone help him, he’d probably fall for some idiot’s first attempt to make him angry and he’d have that spark in his eyes that only came out when he’d try not to explode.
The corner of Seongje’s mouth twitched. Yeah… That idiot would definitely make this more fun.
He clicks his tongue, annoyed at himself for even thinking about it.
Because that’s the problem with people like Go Hyuntak. They leave these irritating echoes–not emotional nor meaningful, just something that sticks because it’s entertaining. And what is Seongje if not weak for entertainment?
Baekjin’s voice is heard from the other side of the room, getting Seongje out of his head.
“Seongje. Here.”
With a sigh, he hops off the table and strolls over. Baekjin doesn’t even look at him, the messages on his phone being more interesting that whatever conversation they’re about to have.
“Remember that idiot from Eunjang?” Baekjin asks and Seongje can’t help but laugh.
“You’ll need to be more specific.”
“The one that’s supposed to bring us the phones. Choi Hyoman.”
“Ah…That idiot.” He clicks his tongue. “Yeah, what about him?”
“He disappeared. With the phones.”
Seongje’s chest actually vibrates with the laugh that leaves his body.
“You sent that idiot to do that? Like–it was your decision? You?” He laughs, incredulous.
“Is there a problem?” Baekjin asks, not a single emotion shown on his face.
“No. Just curious.” Seongje’s smile doesn’t fade as he takes out a cigarette from his pocket.
“I need you to go to Eunjang High. Just take a look, see if someone knows where to find that fucker.”
“And why me?” Seongje asks, looking at Baekjin through half-lidded eyes, his voice coming out bored again.
“You handle these situations better than the others, you get into their heads easier. They’ll break.” Baekjin cracks his neck before continuing. “Try to get information from Park Humin’s little friend group, too.”
At the mention of Baku, something sparks faintly in Seongje’s mind–not the boy himself, but the shadow that always stands beside him: Hyuntak.
“Baku?” Seongje smiles, suddenly interested again. “I can do that.”
“Baku’s friends always know things before anyone else.” Baekjin hands him a list of the things Hyoman should have with him, but Seongje doesn’t even glance at it before throwing it to the table. “You should just take a look around before anything else. See who’s with them, if they’d talked to this Hyoman guy. If Humin’s alone, even better. If he’s with that Hyuntak kid–” He waves a hand in the air. “just ignore him, he’s annoying.”
Seongje pauses, but he doesn’t let the other notice.
Baekjin has no idea how boring this could be if he avoids Hyuntak. And Seongje hates being bored.
Baekjin, not noticing the shift in Seongje’s eyes, shoves the list back to Seongje’s chest. “And don’t start any fights. I need information, not another report from schools.”
“Yes, yes,” Seongje answers, waving a hand. “I can behave.”
He probably won’t.
“Tell Baku I want to meet him. Bring him if he’s free.” Bakjin says, already heading to the stairs. “And whatever the hell you spent the entire afternoon doing last time,” He turns back to look at Seongje one more time. “don’t do it again.”
Seongje stumps out his cigarette, ignoring the annoyed look that one of the guys cleaning the floor gives him. He grabs his jacket, adjusts his glasses–the temple still bent from the throw Gotak gave him–and heads out.
He steps outside, the cold air biting at his bruised knuckles, and for a brief second he wonders what expression Gotak will have when he sees him again.
The group is met with the cold air of autumn when they leave the convenience store. Gotak’s holding Baku’s plastic bag that’s way too full for someone who “wasn’t hungry”. Behind him, Baku argues with the automatic door that closed too fast on him while Juntae waves his hand from outside so Baku could get out. Sieun and Suho are a bit ahead, Suho’s hand holding Sieun’s as he makes him smile slightly with something that the rest didn’t hear.
“Dude, you bought the whole store” Suho says, turning around when he hears that Baku is already out of the store.
“It was on sale” Baku argues, mouth already full of food, even though nothing has ever been on sale in the history of that shop.
“You’ll get cramps, hyung. You need better nutrients in your body.” Juntae says, sipping on his juice that he definitely hasn’t paid for.
“Aish,” Baku waves his hand “I’m okay, I need food to be this strong” He flexes his arm and Gotak flicks him playfully on the head.
“You can’t even throw a kick, dumbass” Gotak mocks him and Baku throws an arm over his shoulders, trapping Gotak’s head.
“Why do I need kicks when I can do this?” Baku laughs, ruffling his hair, and Gotak breaks free of his grasp, pushing him away and jogging beside Suho to use him as a shield.
“Why are you so loud?” Sieun asks, his voice is flat but the corner of his mouth threatens to curl.
“Yo, isn’t that…” Suho interrupts, looking at the wall behind them without letting go of Sieun’s hand.
The others follow his gaze, and see sloppy black letters spray-painted across the bricks:
'THE UNION OWNS THIS'
“The city re-painted this wall last week.” Sieun sighs, playing with Suho’s sleeve.
“It’s pathetic, really.” Suho adds, pulling his boyfriend closer with an arm around his shoulders, as if he’s protecting him from the mere thought of The Union.
“I swear Baekjin’s minions have nothing better to do.” Baku rants immediately. “I mean, tagging walls? Really badass, huh?” He stands in front of the graffiti, hands on his hips as if he’s a disappointed dad. “It’s like dealing with kids with knives, really.”
At the mention of Baekjin, Gotak’s shoulders tense. He knows where the conversation will end, so he keeps his eyes on the ground.
Juntae sips on his drink one more time before speaking. “Could be worse. It could say “The union or death” like last time.”
Baku scoffs. “Those cowards can’t do anything by themselves, they follow orders and go around in groups. That’s the only reason they feel powerful.”
“I’m sorry, hyung, but some of them are really intimidating even when they’re alone.” Juntae says in a small voice, adjusting his glasses.
“Isn’t that Geum Seongje guy with The Union too? Lately he’s been beating the shit out of people all by himself.” Suho asks.
There it is. Of course Suho’d be the one to bring it up. Gotak brushes a hand over his face.
“Yeah, but he’s an idiot.” Sieun says, annoyed at the mention of the guy.
“Well yeah, but…” Juntae starts and every head whips towards him. “He did help me that one time in the warehouse, so… He’s weird.”
Suho looks personally offended. “He did what?”
“Yeah, he punched the guys on his team so they didn’t get to me.” Juntae says simply.
Suho looks at him with his mouth open, then turns to Sieun. “Is he mental?”
“I’m not! He told the guys it’d be boring to punch me and he kicked them out, then he called Baku to get me.”
“Yeah, because he wasn’t helping you, he was entertaining himself!” Baku states. “He’s like a cat that pushes things off the table just to see what happens.”
“He’s a psycho bastard.” Suho says annoyed and Sieun nods.
“He’ll get what he deserves, we don’t have to interfere, right Gogo?” Baku elbows him, catching his attention.
Gotak’s hands curl into fists inside the front pocket of his hoodie.
They don’t understand the gravitational pull around Seongje. They don’t know him. Hell, not even Gotak knows Seongje himself and still-
Juntae nudges Gotak lightly. “What do you think? You’re quiet.”
He can’t say anything.
Gotak forces a shrug. “Nothing to say. The guy’s an asshole.” It’s the safest answer he can come up with.
Baku throws an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in with brotherly roughness. “Those idiots don’t know they can’t win against us when we’re together, right?” Baku says and looks to the sky in some exaggerated hero-from-a-movie way.
Gotak tries to laugh, but it comes out thin.
Sieun is about to speak when something in the air shifts–so subtle that only Gotak notices at first. A presence, a shadow hitting the edge of his vision.
Baku turns first, his expression hardening in a second. Sieun instinctively takes a step forward, trying to shield Suho even though his boyfriend is way bigger than him. Juntae straightens beside Sieun, and Gotak…
Gotak doesn't think he can move.
Not when Seongje steps out from behind the streetlight like he’s been part of the scenery all along, glasses crooked, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable except for that tiny, infuriating hint of amusement curling the corner of his mouth.
“Wow,” Seongje says, voice soft and unbothered. “All of you together, didn’t know it was my birthday.”
When he looks directly at him, Gotak can feel shivers down his spine.
“What do you want?” Baku speaks first, stepping forward.
Seongje smiles, lighting up a cigarette. “Right. You’re their bodyguard, how cute.”
Gotak sees Baku’s back stiffen, ready for whatever Seongje starts. Seongje steps closer and Baku moves to stand right in front of Gotak.
“Don’t get close to him.” Baku snaps.
“To who?” Seongje looks around with exaggerated confusion before pointing lazily at Gotak. “Him? That’s who you’re protecting?”
His voice is light, almost innocent.
“I know how you are. You won’t go straight to him today.”
Seongje tilts his head, eyeing Gotak slowly, deliberately. “Well… he goes straight for me too,” he says, shrugging. “You can’t blame me for keeping up. I’m just polite like that.”
Gotak shifts uncomfortably, and Baku takes another step forward, until Gotak finally puts a hand on his arm to stop him, gaining a confused look in return.
“I’m fine,” he mutters. And he is.
He and Seongje fight differently. There’s a rhythm there. A strange understanding that Baku wouldn’t get. He shouldn’t have to.
Seongje notices the tension immediately, exhaling smoke through his nose.
“Oh,” he says, looking between the two boys. “Look at that. The leash comes off.” He lets out an annoying laugh. “Tragic, Baku. Seems like your boy keeps sneaking out to fight me.” He steps closer, facing Baku to whisper to his face. “Don’t let him wander; he bites.”
Baku’s face twists. “Shut up.”
Something old and painful flickers in him–so fast only Gotak catches it. Seongje’s eyes slide to the couple in the back.
“Aish,” He says, eyes lighting up. “So he truly was your boyfriend.” He clicks his tongue. “What a shame, Sieun-ah. You were really fun to play with.”
“Don’t call him that.” Suho steps up, now getting Sieun behind him.
Seongje waves his hand in the air. “Don’t start. I’m happy for you both.” He says, not a single trace of honesty in his voice.
“What do you want?” Baku asks again, taking Seongje’s attention out of Suho and Sieun.
“Work,” Seongje answers simply. “We need information. Hyoman, the stolen phones… boring stuff.” He gestures casually at them. “But I figured I’d visit you guys first. You’re always the ones who know things before anyone else.”
The unspoken name behind “we” hits Baku like a punch he doesn’t block.
“I don’t know anything,” Baku says immediately. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
“Relax,” Seongje replies, lowering his tone. “I didn’t come here to fight.”
His smile, of course, says the opposite. Then he looks at Gotak again–a slow, steady look, one quiet step closer. Not enough to touch, but enough to feel.
“And honestly,” he adds, “if I wanted to start a fight, you know who I’d pick first.”
Gotak meets his eyes without flinching.
For a long second, no one moves. Seongje’s eyes stay on Gotak, waiting–almost expecting him to snap.
But Baku steps in again, voice steady this time. “I told you we don’t know anything. And even if we did, we’re not telling you.”
Surprisingly, that’s what finally makes Seongje pause.
He studies Baku for a beat, really studies him, like he’s seeing something new. Then he clicks his tongue, annoyed but amused.
“Fine,” he says, rolling his shoulders back. “Shame, though. I was starting to enjoy today.”
Baku clenches his fists. “Just leave.”
“Relax,” Seongje says, smiling again. “I said I’m going.”
Seongje takes one last drag of his cigarette and starts walking forward, the group moving out of the way so they don’t even brush him when he walks past. Seongje stops when he’s in front of Gotak, eyeing him from head to toes, a smug grin adorning his face.
He blows the smoke in Gotak’s face, making him scrunch his nose slightly but trying to hold his gaze.
“See you around, Gogo.” He winks and turns his head to watch Baku’s reaction to his nickname coming out from Seongje's mouth.
The night doesn’t feel the same after Seongje leaves. The group keeps walking until the fluorescent lights of the store’s sign doesn’t reach them anymore. The silence feels heavy. The space Seongje left feels heavier.
“Well” Juntae is the first to break the silence. “At least he didn’t start anything.”
Gotak nods. He isn’t sure if he’s relieved about that.
And as always when it involves Seongje, Gotak acts without thinking.
“I forgot my phone,” Gotak says suddenly, patting his pockets like it proves something. “I’ll catch up later.”
“Aish, Gogo!” Baku sighs, turning around to face him. “My dad’s gonna kill us if we wake him up in the middle of the night! Hurry up!”
“Yeah, no–sorry! I’ll be right back, you guys can keep going.”
“Don’t be long, Tak-ah” Juntae says softly. “I need to get home.”
“Yeah–I’ll be quick. You can go, it’s okay.”
The group turns around to leave, but Sieun stays behind, letting go of Suho’s hand to get closer to Gotak.
“Be careful,” He says cautiously, his eyes too knowingly to Gotak’s comfort. “He’s nothing more than trouble.”
Sieun’s voice is soft, almost for just both of them to hear, and Gotak feels caught. Seongje’s name isn’t said out loud, but he can see it in Sieun’s eyes.
“I got this.” Gotak says, patting Sieun’s shoulder and smiling softly.
Gotak assumes Sieun doesn’t say anything, because –thankfully– no one stops him. He starts walking before he can change his mind, not looking back at his friends standing around the corner.
The door of the convenience store slides open again, the soft electronic chime almost too loud to Gotak’s ears. The heat inside welcomes him, crawling up his neck.
He doesn’t expect to see him like this: Seongje is sitting alone by the window, hunched slightly over a paper cup of ramyeon, phone in hand lighting up his face while he absently stirs noodles with his chopsticks.
His hair isn’t disheveled, his clothes aren’t dusty, his knuckles aren’t bloody. He looks normal. And it scares Gotak more than seeing him bloody and bruised ever did.
Seongje doesn’t look up to speak.
“Did you come just to stare?” He asks calmly, still scrolling on his phone as if he could just smell Gotak's presence.
“What? You want me to join you?” Gotak snaps back, approaching the table with his hands on the pocket of his hoodie.
“You wanna have a little date? How romantic.” Seongje finally looks up at him, licking his bottom lip. “I'm not the dating type, but I could make an exception for you-” He scans Gotak, smiling annoyingly before the guy from Eunjang steps closer, interrupting with a smack to the table.
“Stay the fuck away from my friends.”
“Your friends,” He repeats, nodding. “You ran away from your little boyfriend just to tell me that?”
Gotak's jaw tightens.
“Don't talk about him.”
“No, I like him.” He lies, chewing slowly, pointing at Gotak with his chopsticks. “He stands in front of you like a guard dog, it's cute, really.”
“You enjoy this.” Gotak hisses. “You enjoy messing with people. Messing with me.”
“Maybe.” Seongje finishes his food. “But you always come back, you make it so fun.” He smiles, tilting his head as if he’s analyzing the other guy.
Gotak doesn’t remember stepping forward. He only remembers suddenly being there– close enough to see the little crack in Seongje’s glasses, the faint bruise under his jaw. Gotak wonders if he was the one to put it there.
His hands grip the collar of Seongje’s jacket before he can even think about it, fingers tight, breath uneven.
“You go near them again,” Gotak’s voice breaks a little with the violence of it. “and I’ll kill you.”
Seongje doesn’t fight him, that’s the worst part. He just sighs loudly, giving Gotak a bored look through his glasses. His gaze drops, admiring how little space there is between them.
His hands come up–not pushing Gotak away, just resting lightly at the guy’s wrists. He brushes his thumb, almost thoughtful, against the pulse at Gotak’s wrists–just once, but it’s enough to make Gotak freeze.
It’s an innocent enough touch, barely there, but it unbalances Gotak completely. For one second, he doesn’t react, and Seongje feels it. His mouth curves, slow. Seongje stands up and Gotak notices he’s a little shorter than Seongje when he has to look up to meet his gaze.
“That’s new,” he murmurs.
Gotak rips his hand away.
“Don’t touch me, you psycho.”
“You touched me first,” Seongje replies lightly.
Gotak shoves him slightly, not even really moving him, but trying to make space between them.
“Next time you touch them,” Gotak says, low and dangerous, pointing at him with his index finger. “I won’t go easy on you.”
Seongje looks at the finger in front of him and scoffs. He bends to pick up the phone that fell from his hand with Gotak’s tug and pockets it. When he straightens, he’s too close.
“You should go back,” he murmurs. “They’ll notice you’re gone.”
Gotak doesn’t step back.
“If you touch them–”
“I won’t,” Seongje interrupts, surprising even himself. “They aren’t as interesting as you.”
Seongje steps past him, his hand brushing Gotak’s arm as he puts his hands on his pockets. Intentional and electric, like everything he does.
At the door, he stops and looks back.
“Threaten me again sometime,” He says casually, looking at Gotak up and down, a different glint on his eyes. “I like how you look when you mean it.”
The doors slide open and cold air rushes in. And just like that, he’s gone.
Gotak stands there, looking at the empty chair in front of him, feeling the ghost of Seongje’s touch like a burn on his cold skin.
The light of the computer is the only thing breaking the darkness of the night that settled in Seongje’s bedroom. He doesn’t get out of his room to have dinner, instead waits for his parents to go to bed to get out and grab something. His cigarette is forgotten on the ashtray that he keeps bumping with his elbow every time he presses the keyboard.
His phone buzzes on the bed for the third time in a row, completely ignored by Seongje. He takes off his glasses after losing the last round and squints his eyes, already sore because of the effort.
Seongje turns his chair around to reach for his phone that keeps vibrating in between the sheets.
He doesn’t even look at the screen before answering, there aren’t many options for who could be calling anyways.
“What now?”
“You made me call three times.” Baekjin’s voice fills the silence of Seongje’s room.
“You’re interrupting me.”
“I need you to come here.” Baekjin ignores him. “Someone stole from us.”
“Then find who did it.” He answers, bored and obvious.
“I want you here in twenty minutes.”
Seongje sighs annoyed enough for the other one to hear. “Sure thing, Sajangnim.”
Baekjin hangs up as soon as he hears the sarcasm in Seongje’s voice. He throws his phone back into the bed and gets up to put on some clothes, having the last drag of the cigarette before changing.
Seongje arrives late on purpose. The room is tense, everyone watching him as he’s the last one to get there. He doesn’t greet anyone–he just walks in, hands in pockets and eyes half-lidded as if he’s already bored.
There are some guys that Seongje doesn’t even remember seeing in his life, all gathered around the table where Baekjin dumped the empty drawers. Papers that used to be inside–lists of parts, locations, serial numbers, contacts–are nowhere to be seen.
Baekjin’s face is unreadable as always, but Seongje notices the tightness of his jaw and the slight tilting of his eye.
“Someone broke in earlier today.”
At first, no one speaks. The guys that should’ve been guarding the place are looking down, probably already knowing what’s coming for them after the meeting’s over.
“Choi Hyoman’s still missing.” Some guy says from the back. Seongje doesn’t even bother to see who it is. “Park Humin must have convinced him to turn his back on us.”
At the mention of Baku, Baekjin’s neck almost snaps to face the guy.
“Do you think that guy could’ve done this?” Another guy asks, trying to hide his laugh.
“I’m saying,” The first guy continues. “That he knew things from the inside but he’s an idiot. He could’ve fallen for Baku’s fantasies of a perfect world and tried to help him, gave him information–I don’t know.”
Another one adds, “That friend of his, Gotak–he was around the neighborhood yesterday. They could’ve done it together.”
Seongje is leaning against the wall, arms crossed, face unfazed. The second Gotak’s name is spoken, something flickers in his eyes–annoyance or something else, either way no one notices.
Then the accusations keep piling up, louder, stupider, and someone says:
“I’m telling you, it was them.”
And that’s when Seongje’s voice cuts through the room like a blade. “It wasn’t him.”
The room goes silent and everyone turns to look at him.
“Park Humin?” A guy asks.
“Go Hyuntak.” Seongje answers without looking at him, too focused on lighting up the first cigarette since he arrived.
Baekjin raises his eyebrows slowly. “And how would you know that?”
“Because he didn’t do it.” ‘Because he was with me’ it’s what he doesn’t say.
“That’s not an explanation.” A guy Seongje doesn’t even know his name scoffs, looking between Baekjin and Seongje, as if waiting for Baekjin to scold him.
Seongje doesn’t move from the wall. He doesn’t even straighten up. He just lifts his chin a little, looking at the guy–bored, sharp and dismissive all at once.
“And who are you?”
The guy is about to take a step forward to get close to Seongje before Baekjin raises a hand at him and makes him stop without saying a word like a trained dog.
“What makes you so sure?” he asks again, tone slower this time.
“You can waste your time blaming the wrong people, or you can focus on finding who actually screwed you over. Up to you.” He pushes off the wall, brushing past the group to look at the empty drawers and then back at the guys. “If you’re going to accuse someone,” he adds, “try using your brains for once.”
The insult lands. A couple of the boys bristle, but none of them say anything, no one wants to start a fight with him.
Baekjin watches him with narrowed eyes, hands resting on his lap as he swings almost unnoticeable on his chair. Something isn’t adding up, and he knows it.
There’s a small change in Seongje’s expression, invisible but unmistakable, every time Hyuntak's name is said. And when no one notices, Baekjin does.
Confusion settles on the room like dust, but Seongje doesn’t care. Or at least, he does a damn good job pretending he doesn’t.
He turns toward the exit without asking if he’s allowed to leave.
“We’re not done,” Baekjin says.
“I am.” Seongje replies, already walking away.
And Baekjin’s eyes follow him, sharp and calculating, watching the cracks in Seongje’s mask widen just a little more every time Gotak gets involved.
As Seongje leaves, the leader gestures at one of the boys in the back, making him rush to Baekjin’s side.
“From now on,” He starts without even looking at him. “you’ll handle everything related to Park Humin’s group.”
The guy looks at him as if Baekjin has just asked him to murder an entire family with his bare hands. “Sajangnim,” he starts, voice almost shaky. “What about Geum Seongje?”
“You’ll handle it from now on. Understood?” Baekjin turns around to face him, eyes sharp. “Take three men with you, tomorrow you go find Go Hyuntak and take care of him. Don’t stop until he tells you where everything is.”
The guy bows eagerly, hands gripping his jeans. “Yes, Sajangnim. I’ll do it.”
On his way out, Seongje hears the faint sound of Baekjin’s voice. Not calling him, but giving orders to someone else. He is halfway down the hallway when he hears rushed footsteps behind him. He doesn’t slow down. Whoever’s chasing him can keep up or give up–it’s not his problem.
“Geum Seongje–wait!”
Seongje rolls his eyes before even turning. One of the boys from the meeting stops in front of him, slightly out of breath, as if he's just ran a mile to get to him. Pathetic, Seongje thinks.
“What.”
The boy glances around as if he’s afraid the walls have ears. “I-I thought you should know. About what Sajangnim said.”
Seongje flicks ash off the end of his cigarette. “If this is about those fucking papers, I don't give a shit.”
“No, no–I mean, yes but no,” The guy swallows, hard. “It’s just… Baekjin said he’s putting Do Seongmok in charge of everything related to Park Humin’s group from now on.”
Seongje raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “And?”
The boy blinks, startled. “Well… that’s it.”
“…That’s it,” Seongje repeats.
“Yes.” The boy nods, shifting from foot to foot. “I thought you should know.”
He lingers there, expectant–eyes wide, shoulders tensed, almost smiling, like he’s waiting for Seongje to thank him or saying ‘Good job, you did well coming to tell me.’
Seongje stares at him for three long, brutal seconds. Then he laughs under his breath, cold and cutting.
“You came running after me,” he says, “for that?”
The boy’s fake confidence shatters instantly. “I-I thought it was important.”
“It isn’t.”
The boy looks like he’s been slapped. “But since it involves Baku’s group, and Go Hyuntak I just assumed you’d want to–”
It’s when Seongje hears Gotak’s name coming out from that guy’s mouth that he snaps. He lunges at the guy and pins him to the wall, arm heavy on the other’s chest, dragging all the air from his lungs.
“Don’t talk about what you don’t know. Okay?”
“Y-yes. Yes, sir.” The guy nods eagerly, trying to breathe as he does so. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, I swear.”
“Yeah, the fuck it wont.” Seongje lets him go, shoving him hard into the wall before stepping back. “What is the brilliant plan now?”
“I…” The boy hesitates. “I don’t know.”
Seongje takes off his glasses to brush an annoyed hand over his face. He really is surrounded by idiots.
He crouches besides the guy on the floor and lifts him up by the collar.
“Why did you come to bother me if you don’t know anything?” He shakes him from the grip on his clothes. “Are you fucking with me?”
“N-no! No, sir. I just wanted to help!” The guy grips the hand holding onto him, eyes almost glossy with fear. Seongje can tell he’s new here. “They’ll go for Go Hyuntak now, Na Baekjin will send four guys to deal with him tomorrow. That’s all I know! I swear!”
He loosens his grip slowly, like he’s bored again, and lets the boy slump to the floor. The fear stays plastered on his face anyway.
“Get the fuck out,” Seongje says.
The guy doesn’t wait to be told twice.
When the hallway finally goes quiet, Seongje stands there for a moment, cigarette burning down between his fingers. Somewhere deeper inside the building, Baekjin is still talking–still giving orders that no longer include him.
That’s what burns inside him: not Gotak, not the plan, but the fact that Baekjin moved someone else into his place, that he decided Seongje was no longer necessary when it came to Baku’s group. That he handed authority over like it was disposable.
He clicks his tongue and crushes the cigarette under his shoe.
He doesn’t care what happens to Go Hyuntak. That’s the truth. Or close enough to be convincing.
Gotak is reckless, mouthy, stubborn in a way that makes problems stick to him. If he gets beaten, that’s on him. So why does the thought of someone else laying hands on him feel wrong?
Annoying. Intrusive. Like someone stepping into territory that doesn’t belong to them.
He hates that more than anything.
Baekjin wants Gotak handled quietly, cleanly. Wants to remind Baku’s group who’s in charge–without Seongje’s interference.
Fine. Seongje won’t interfere. He’ll just… misplace the timing.
He tells himself this isn’t for Hyuntak, that this is for Baekjin. To show him that putting Seongje aside doesn’t mean he’s out of this.
Seongje exhales slowly.
He’ll deal with this tomorrow.
The first rays of sunshine light up Seongje’s face as he leans on the wall, watching Gotak’s front door impatiently, as if he would come out quicker if he stares long enough.
Gotak opens the door already annoyed.
He hasn’t even checked the time yet. His hair is a mess, hoodie wrinkled from sleep, jacket almost falling off his shoulder, eyes sharp but tired–like someone who expects nothing good to come from mornings or people.
The irritation sinks deeper into his face the moment he sees who’s standing on the other side.
“…You gotta be fucking kidding me.” Gotak sighs, adjusting the bag on his shoulder.
“Took you long enough.”
“Are you an insufferable asshole twenty-four seven or do you ever stop to sleep?”
“You don’t seem very happy to see me.” Seongje smirks and Gotak can swear his day is already ruined even though it hasn’t even started yet.
Gotak lets out a humourless laugh. “Is anyone ever happy to see you?”
Seongje takes a hand to his chest–an ironic pout on his face. “Ouch. How can someone who looks like that be so mean?”
Gotak’s frown deepens, and he clicks his tongue before shutting the door closed behind him and trying to start walking away.
“Go Hyuntak.” Seongje calls behind him and Gotak, always malfunctioning when it comes to Seongje, stops on his tracks.
“What the fuck do you want, Seongje?” He turns around, an annoyed sigh leaving his mouth.
Seongje straightens, eyes flicking briefly over Gotak’s face–too quick to seem concerned, too deliberate to be nothing. “Some guys from the Union are coming for you today.”
Gotak blinks once, then he snorts. “That’s it? That’s your opener today? ”
“Believe it or don’t. I don’t care”
Gotak leans against the wall opposite to Seongje, arms crossing over his chest. “Are you trying to fuck with me this early? You should really find a hobbie, dude.”
“I’m here to warn you.”
“That’s worse,” Gotak shoots back. “Since when do you warn people?”
“Since today.”
Gotak shakes his head, amused now. “You really woke up early for this, your parents must be proud.”
“They won’t announce themselves.” Seongje ignores him and keeps talking. “In fact, they’re probably waiting for you right now.”
Gotak’s smile fades, just a little–but he covers it fast. “And Baekjin told you this out of the goodness of his heart? I’m moved, really.”
“He didn’t tell me anything.”
“So you’re guessing.” He lifts an eyebrow, trying to figure out where Seongje wants to go with this.
“I’m informed.”
Gotak scoffs. “Right. And I’m supposed to just–What? Trust you? Out of all people.”
Seongje tilts his head. “You don’t have to.”
“Good,” Gotak snaps. “Because I don’t.” He steps back, already turning away. “Get out of here.”
Seongje doesn’t move.
“You should listen,” he says calmly.
Gotak freezes, his feet stopping once again. He looks back at Seongje, eyes hard. “And who the fuck do you think you are to give me advice?”
Seongje smiles, thin and infuriating. “You should listen to your elders.”
Gotak’s jaw tightens. “You’re not my elder. You’re just a psycho who thinks everyone’s playing the same fucked up games as him.”
Seongje shrugs. “Suit yourself.”
He turns to leave, already stepping away when Gotak adds, sharp and bitter, “What do you get out of this, huh?”
Seongje pauses, just for a second. Then, without turning around, he says, “If you get beaten, don’t say I didn't warn you.”
That ends the conversation for Gotak, who starts walking without looking back.
Seongje watches him go, his steps angry on the ground, hands clenching the strap of his bag.
“Stubborn idiot,” he mutters, already lighting the first cigarette of the day.
However, something stops him from leaving the neighborhood right away.
Seongje exhales smoke slowly, eyes fixed on Gotak’s back until he turns the corner. He waits a few minutes more–long enough to pretend he’s giving him a choice.
Then he pushes off the wall and follows. He keeps his distance, far enough not to be seen but close enough to intervene if necessary–because Gotak never listens. And because he knows that Baekjin never sends people for nothing.
It happens two blocks down.
The street is narrow, quiet in that early-morning way where everything feels like the calm before the storm.
Gotak notices the footsteps behind him just a second too late. He turns and the first punch comes from the side.
Gotak staggers but doesn’t fall. He swings back immediately, elbow connecting with someone’s jaw. Another one grabs his blazer from behind but he twists out of it, kicking one of them into the wall hard enough to let them know he won’t give up without a fight.
“Four of you?” Gotak spits. “That’s pathetic.”
They don’t answer.
Someone kicks low, right at his knee. Pain explodes up his leg, hot and familiar–like electricity running through his whole body.
Gotak’s breath leaves him in a sharp gasp as his leg buckles beneath him. His knee gives out completely, the old injury screaming like it has happened just the day before.
He barely has time to register it before he’s on the ground.
That’s when they swarm him.
Fists, shoes–someone pins his shoulders while another drives a punch into his ribs. Blood fills his mouth and he tastes iron and asphalt.
“Still feeling brave?” one of them mutters.
Gotak laughs–and it comes out broken. “Fuck you.”
Another kick lands against his side.
“Where did you hide Baekjin’s stuff?” A taller guy asks and Gotak is completely lost at the question.
“The fuck are you talking about?”
“Don’t play stupid with us, you fucker.” The first guy fists Gotak’s hair to make him look up at him.
Then–
“Wow.”
The voice cuts through the chaos like a blade.
“All four of you,” Seongje says mildly, “and you still had to go for the knee? Can’t believe Baekjin sent some rookie idiots to do this.”
Everything freezes for half a second. Gotak lifts his head just enough to see him standing there–calm, furious in that quiet, lethal way that characterizes him.
Seongje’s eyes sweep over the scene once, sharp and assessing before speaking.
“Get the fuck out.”
One of the guys scoffs. “This doesn’t concern you anymore, Geum Seongje.”
Seongje fixes his glasses without tearing his gaze off the guy and he moves before they can react.
The first guy goes down hard. The second barely gets his hands up before Seongje’s fist connects with his mouth. Blood sprays. A third one manages to land a hard punch to Seongje’s mouth, making Seongje stumble backwards before yanking the guy by the hair and smacking him into the wall.
It’s over fast.
By the time Seongje straightens, breathing steady, two of them are on the ground and the other two are scrambling back.
Seongje wipes blood from the corner of his mouth with his thumb and looks at them coldly.
“Get the fuck out of here. Don’t you ever think about getting your hands into my shit again, understood?”
The color drains from their faces. They don’t argue anymore, they just run away.
Seongje turns to Gotak, who is still on the ground, chest rising unevenly, blood smeared across his cheek and lips. He looks up at Seongje with less annoyance than usual. Seongje’s skin itches at the thought.
“Don’t you get tired of following me around?” Gotak says.
Seongje clicks his tongue. “Told you this would happen.”
Gotak scoffs weakly. “I had it under control.”
“You were eating pavement.”
“So?” Gotak snaps. “Didn’t need your help.”
Seongje crouches in front of him. Too close. “You should really start listening to your hyungs, pup.”
Gotak glares up at him. “You say that one more time and I’ll fucking break your nose.”
Seongje smirks, excitement sparkling up his eyes as if Gotak had just flirted with him. “You’re welcome to try.”
Gotak shifts–and he can’t hide the way he hisses in pain, hand instinctively going to his knee. Seongje notices and his expression tightens for just a fraction of a second.
“…They went for your knee,” he says flatly.
Gotak swallows. “Yeah. Wouldn’t you know that?” Sarcasm slips from his blood stained lips.
There’s a pause. Gotak’s gaze drifts up–and stops. “…You’re bleeding,” he says.
Seongje wipes at his mouth again, fingers coming away red. “So are you.”
“Of course I am–” Gotak stops himself.
They’ve never been this close without punching each other before. They’re close enough that Gotak can see the split in Seongje’s lip, the tension in his jaw–the little mark under his eye that he has never seen before. The way his eyes don’t look bored right now, just sharp and oddly focused on him.
Gotak frowns. “Why the fuck did you help me?”
Seongje holds his gaze for a second, too long–then he scoffs and straightens. “This isn’t about you.”
“Doesn’t seem like it.”
Seongje steps back, breaking the moment like snapping a wire. “Next time I warn you,” he says, turning away, “don’t assume I’m lying.”
Gotak watches him go, heart still pounding.
The street is empty again, the tension doesn’t fill his surroundings anymore. Gotak doesn’t feel watched, or followed like a prey–he feels tired already, even though his routine hasn’t actually started yet.
He pushes himself up from the ground slowly, cursing under his breath when pain flares through his leg. It’s not broken–not again–but it feels close enough to make his vision blur for a second. He hates that. Hates how fast his body remembers, how fast it betrays him.
The image of Seongje standing there, putting himself in between Gotak and the four idiots like it was the most natural thing in the world for them, burns in Gotak’s mind.
Gotak doesn’t go home.
He should. His knee is screaming, his ribs ache every time he breathes in too deep, and there’s dried blood pulling uncomfortably at the corner of his mouth. But his feet take him in the opposite direction, muscle memory guiding him toward the same route he’s walked every morning for years: School. Like nothing happened, like Seongje didn’t kneel in front of him on cracked asphalt and looked at his leg like it was something fragile.
Gotak clenches his jaw and keeps walking.
Why?
The question makes him quicken his pace.
Why warn him?
Why follow him?
Why step in?
Seongje was there that day. Standing just behind Baekjin, eyes sharp and unbothered, when Baekjin smiled and broke Gotak’s knee like it was nothing. Like it wasn’t a future shattering under his heel. Taekwondo. Nationals. Everything he had worked so hard for years–gone in one sick, deliberate move.
And Seongje watched.
Didn’t stop it. Didn’t look away.
So why now?
His reflection in a dark shop window makes him pause–split lip, bruising already blooming along his cheekbone, jacket dusty and torn. He clicks his tongue, annoyed, and turns away.
“Tak-ah?”
Gotak tenses, feeling caught for some reason.
He turns and sees Juntae a few steps back, backpack hanging loose on his shoulders, his hand going up to fix his glasses in one small and monotonous movement.
“…What happened to you?” Juntae asks quietly.
“Nothing,” Gotak answers automatically.
Juntae doesn’t call him out, he never does. He just walks closer, slowing his steps to match Gotak’s faint limp without saying anything about it.
“You’re bleeding,” he says instead, almost apologetic, like he’s pointing out a mistake Gotak didn’t mean to make.
Gotak wipes quickly at his mouth with the back of his hand, as if Juntae wasn’t supposed to notice that. “It’s fine.”
Juntae nods, accepting the lie for now. He walks beside him for a block in silence, hands fidgeting with the straps of his bag.
“…Union guys?” he asks softly.
Gotak exhales through his nose. “Yeah.”
Juntae hums. He hesitates, then asks, “Did they hurt your knee again?”
Gotak’s steps falter just a fraction. He glances at Juntae. “…Yeah.”
“I thought so,” Juntae murmurs. His fingers curl into the fabric of his bag. “You’re walking like you do when it rains.”
That makes something twist uncomfortably in Gotak’s chest. Juntae points it out in a way that makes Gotak feel guilty for the preoccupation in the smaller’s eyes.
They reach the crosswalk near the school. Students are starting to gather, voices loud and unaware. Gotak slows down, not ready to blend back into normal life yet.
“…Seongje showed up,” he says suddenly.
Juntae looks up at him. He blinks once. “Geum Seongje?”
“He warned me before. This morning,” Gotak continues, words spilling out sharper than he means them to. “He showed up at my house, told me they were coming for me but I didn’t listen. Then he followed me and–” He cuts himself off, jaw tightening. “He helped me. Kind of.”
Juntae is quiet for a moment. He rocks slightly on his heels, thinking.
“Kind of?” he asks finally.
Gotak shrugs. “Yeah, I mean–It’s not like, you know–I needed it,”
“…That was kind of him,” Juntae cuts him off.
Gotak looks at Juntae as if he had just grown a second head. “Kind? Geum Seongje?” He lets out a sharp laugh. “Geum Seongje doesn’t do kind–”
“I’m serious,” Juntae insists, voice still gentle. “I mean–yeah, I know who he is. I know what Baekjin did. I know Seongje was there.” His gaze drops to the ground. “But… he still came, right?”
Gotak looks away. “That’s–” He brushes a hand on his face. “He’s just so fucked up.”
Juntae tilts his head, studying Gotak’s face like he’s trying to solve a puzzle without touching it.
“Maybe he didn’t want it to happen again,” he says.
Gotak scoffs. “He didn’t stop it the first time.”
“No,” Juntae agrees quietly. “But maybe he regrets that.”
Gotak lets out a small laugh, completely humourless. “I don’t think he knows what regret is.”
“I don’t know.” Juntae admits easily. “But… People don’t always know how to stop things when they’re younger. Or when they’re scared. Or when they think they can’t go against someone.”
Gotak’s fingers curl slowly into a fist.
Juntae looks up at him again, eyes earnest. “Hyung, when he helped you… did it look like he was pretending? Doing it for fun?”
Gotak doesn’t answer right away.
All he sees is Seongje’s expression tightening when Gotak hissed in pain. The way his voice dropped when he realized they had gone for his weak point.
“…No,” Gotak mutters.
Juntae nods, like that settles something for him. “Then maybe he’s not just Baekjin’s right hand. Maybe he’s just… a person who made bad choices,” He stops himself, fixing his glasses.” and is still making them.”
Gotak lets out a slow breath. “You’re just too nice, Juntae.”
Juntae shrugs, a small smile tugging at his lips as he adjusts his backpack. “You say that, but you’re the one who keeps listening to him.”
That hits harder than Gotak expects.
Juntae steps closer, lowering his voice. “I’m not saying forgive him. Or trust him. Or anything like that.” He hesitates, then adds, “I just think… if you keep running into the same person over and over again, maybe it’s because there’s something you’re both not done with yet.”
Gotak looks at him–really looks. Juntae meets his gaze without fear, smaller but steady.
“…You should get your knee checked,” Juntae says softly. “And maybe–” He pauses. “Maybe you don’t need to think so much about what you’re supposed to feel.”
The school bell rings, loud and sharp.
Juntae startles slightly, then smiles up at Gotak. “Come on, Tak-ah. We’re going to be late.”
As they walk toward the gate, Gotak’s mind drifts–unwanted and persistent, back to Seongje’s back disappearing down the street.
Gotak exhales, something restless pressing into his heart.
“…Yeah,” he murmurs to no one in particular. “Maybe.”
Seongje knows he’s being watched the second he steps into the bowling alley, all eyes on him as if he’s about to be executed. He bit the hand that feeds them and every guy in the Union knows that there’s no coming back from that. Not that Seongje cares, anyways. He’s been by Baekjin’s side too long to owe him anything.
He walks directly to Baekjin’s office, playing with the lollipop on his mouth as everyone steps aside to make room for him to walk by.
The door closes with a soft click and Baekjin doesn’t turn around right away. Seongje waits, hands in his pockets, posture loose in a careless way.
“Sit,” Baekjin says.
It’s not an order, but it doesn’t need to be either.
Seongje takes a chair anyway, long legs stretching out in front of him. He looks detached, like this is a waste of his time.
Baekjin watches him for a few seconds in silence.
“You weren’t assigned to Go Hyuntak” he says eventually.
Seongje shrugs. “I know.”
“And yet,” Baekjin continues calmly, “you warned him. Followed him. And then jumped into a mess that wasn’t yours.”
Seongje tilts his head. “So?”
“You crossed a line, Seongje.” Baekjin says, voice even. “You don’t act without permission.”
Seongje stretches his legs on the chair, he crushes the lollipop with his teeth, flicking the little stick to the ground as he rests his elbows on his knees.
“You’re letting your personal issues interfere with judgment.”
Baekjin lifts his gaze slowly.
“Choose your words wisely.” He doesn’t raise his voice, but the threat bleeds out of his words.
“You’re obsessed.” Seongje states, and Baekjin’s gaze sharpens. “With Baku’s little group of idiots.”
Baekjin scoffs. “Go Hyuntak isn’t the problem.”
“Then why did you send four guys after him?” Seongje asks absentmindedly, lighting up a cigarette without even looking at Baekjin.
Baekjin looks at him in silence for a few seconds, analyzing him.
“What were you just saying,” He breaks his own silence. “About being obsessed?”
Now it’s Seongje’s turn to scoff. “Do you think I’m obsessed with Go Hyuntak?”
“I think he’s gotten into your head deep enough that you end up doing bullshit like this.” Bakjin’s voice is sharp, his hands now resting on his lap, posture straight and invested in comparison to Seongje’s. “Going behind my back to–what? Play hero? Teach me a lesson? This isn’t like you, Seongje.”
Seongje raises his eyebrows, flicking ashes from his cigar to the ground. “Since when do you know what I’m like? You always say that none of this,” he gestures between both of them. “is personal. I just work for you, that’s all.”
“That’s it. You work for me. You don’t get to do things by yourself here.” Baekjin says, now with his elbows resting on the desk in front of him. “Hyuntak was in the way, he needed to be dealt with. And you ruined that.”
“He doesn’t know anything, I told you it wasn’t him and you keep wasting your time with stupid plans to go after him.”
Baekjin lets out a small, almost cynical smile. “You seem very invested.”
Seongje’s fingers still, cigarette trapped with more force than necessary.
“I’m starting to get tired of this little game you have going on with him. You watched me break him years ago and now you suddenly care if he deserves what happens to him?”
Seongje’s lips curl, hand going up in a dismissive gesture. “Don’t make it dramatic.”
“Dramatic?” Baekjin echoes. “You’ve been erratic, you act without orders, you get possessive. What is that if not dramatic?”
Seongje looks up sharply. “That’s not–”
“You don’t like people touching what you’ve set your eyes on,” Baekjin cuts in. “And it’s starting to affect the Union.”
Silence stretches.
Seongje stands with annoying calm, chair scraping back. “You’re reading too much into it.”
Baekjin gets up to face him, and they’re close enough that Seongje fears Baekjin might find something in his eyes.
“Then say it.” Baekjin challenges. “Say Hyuntak means nothing to you.”
Seongje’s jaw tightens. The way Baekjin says his name twists something deep in his stomach–the familiarity of it, the casual ownership, like it’s allowed.
Hyuntak.
Too bare. Too close. He hates it instantly.
Not the name itself, but the way it’s used. Stripped of distance. Spoken like Baekjin has the right to it, like anyone does. Like they’re closer than they are. Like Seongje hasn’t spent weeks keeping that space intact with deliberate, careful effort.
Something hot crawls up his spine.
“He means nothing,” he states flatly, and he isn't sure if he's lying to Baekjin or himself. “I don’t like him. I don’t trust him. And I don’t owe him anything.”
Baekjin searches his face for a crack, but he finds none, or maybe pretends to.
“…Good,” he says after a moment. “Because next time, I won’t tolerate your improvisation.”
Seongje nods once. “Understood.”
Baekjin steps back, already losing interest. “Get out.”
Seongje leaves without looking back.
-
The hallway feels narrower on the way out.
Seongje keeps his pace steady, shoulders relaxed, not a single emotion shown on his face. He doesn’t give anyone the satisfaction of a glance.
Outside, the night is sharp and cold. He lights another cigarette out of habit even though he’s just put out one. He inhales, exhales. The smoke settles his pulse just enough to think.
He means nothing.
He said it without hesitation, too easily. That should have been the end of it.
And yet the name sticks.
Not the sound of it, but the way it landed in his body when Baekjin said it. The way his stomach twisted, the way his skin bristled like something private had been handled carelessly. He hates that reaction more than anything Baekjin accused him of.
Names shouldn’t matter, people shouldn’t matter. He’s built his entire life around that principle.
Seongje flicks the cigarette away harder than necessary and starts walking, hands shoved deep into his pockets. His thoughts circle despite his efforts, dragging him back to places he doesn’t want to examine.
Gotak despites him, that much is obvious.
It’s in the way Gotak’s eyes sharpen every time they meet, in the tension that never fully leaves his body when Seongje is nearby. There’s no confusion there. No warmth. Just resentment, distrust, anger that never quite burns out.
Seongje thinks he can recognise it, he has seen that look before–not firsthand, but enough to recognize it.
He knows the story. Everyone in the Union does. How things used to be different between Baekjin and Baku. How whatever sits between them now wasn’t always this sharp, this poisoned. There had been trust once. Proximity. Something close enough to matter before it turned into soured resentment.
That much is obvious even without having witnessed it.
He clicks his tongue.
No. This isn’t the same.
Baekjin lost himself chasing someone who didn’t want to be found anymore. Let it bleed into everything: plans, people, violence dressed up as necessity. Seongje saw where that road ended. He knows better.
That’s the difference he sees between him and Baekjin.
Whatever exists between Gotak and him was never built on anything like that. There was no history to decay, no shared ground to fracture. They were placed on opposite sides from the start: Gotak at Baku’s shoulder, Seongje standing besides Baekjin, and they learned to clash because that was what their positions demanded.
And now Seongje can’t tell where the line is anymore.
He doesn’t know if the friction between them is something real, or something inherited. If the anger is theirs or if it’s simply what they’re meant to feel, echoes of a conflict they stepped into and never chose.
He clicks his tongue in irritation.
He won’t become like Baekjin. He can’t phantom the idea of him being that miserable because of someone.
And yet–
He thinks of Gotak limping down the street and feels it again, that sharp pull of attention, that instinct to look, to track, to intervene. Not because he cares. Not because he wants anything, but because it bothers him when things are out of place, because Gotak refuses to stay contained in the category Seongje assigned him.
Obstacle. Variable. Problem.
It should be simple.
So why isn’t it?
Seongje exhales slowly, jaw tightening.
He fucking hates this feeling, the irritation that has no clear target, the awareness that his thoughts keep circling back to someone who should be irrelevant. It feels invasive, like something is pressing against the edges of his control, testing it.
He hates that Baekjin saw it first. He hates that just a moment, Baekjin sounded… right.
The idea alone makes his blood heat.
He’s not obsessed.
He’s not stuck.
He’s not rearranging his world around another person’s existence.
He just doesn’t like repeating mistakes, and Gotak is a reminder of one. That’s all.
Seongje stops at a crosswalk, staring at the red light like he wants to explode it with his mind. Somewhere behind his ribs, something awful tightens, restless and sharp. He presses it down the only way he knows how: by denying it shape, denying it language.
Whatever this is, it won’t control him. He won’t let it.
The light changes. Seongje steps forward without hesitation, disappearing into the flow of the city.
Behind him, the Union fades into noise. Ahead of him, the problem remains unsolved.