Chapter Text
The next day, he went through Baekjin's closet while Baekjin's cutout faced him. He found two boxes tucked away inside the back of it and brought them out. One of them was extremely heavy and the other was light enough. He opened the heavy one first. There was a locker inside. A gun. A violin that sat on top as if to cover it up. He glanced up. "What the fuck is this, you bastard?" He chuckled, taking the gun out. "How do you have a gun?"
He held the chamber out and saw it didn't have any bullets in it. He snorted. A gun with no bullets. It didn't look fake, though. So he placed it down and took out the locker. There was a combination lock on it. He grinned to himself. Tried the same code as the one of the apartment. It didn't work. Well, worth a try. It probably had the bullets in it. And some backup cash, knowing Baekjin. He glanced at the violin and raised a brow. Since when did Na Baekjin know how to play the violin? The instrument was dusty. Probably hadn't been touched in a long time. What exactly was Na Baekjin's true self?
Seongje could basically hear Baekjin yelling at him to clean the damn thing as he stared at him. He smiled. "Should I clean it for your majesty?" When Baekjin's cutout just stared at him with a slightly soft look, he rolled his eyes and got up. He didn't have anything better to do anyway. Just this time and he won't listen to Baekjin's nagging from above.
There were millions of cleaning wipes stacked away under the sink in the bathroom. He brought one box back with him to the bedroom and sat down with a heavy sigh. "Making me do labor even while you're dead."
He used more than five wipes to make sure every nook and cranny was thoroughly shining and then held up the result to Baekjin's cutout. "Is this good enough, your majesty?" He mocked, throwing it back in the box. With a last look, he closed the box again and pushed it back where it was placed.
When he went to the bed that night, he stared at Baekjin's cutout while the memory of their kiss replayed in his mind over and over again. The way Baekjin's body had molded into his, the way their lips had moved against each other's, the way Baekjin wanted him as much as he did. And then the ugly parts where he'd broke the kiss. Gotten up with panic in his eyes, rage for letting himself give in to his desires. Shame.
He turned his back to Baekjin. Closed his eyes. Couldn't fall asleep. Got on his back and looked up at the ceiling in the dim room with moon as the only light source. He huffed out a chuckle. "Must be fun seeing me all restless. Fuck you."
And then, he fell asleep.
Days passed, and the same routine continued. Lounging around Baekjin's apartment after school was over. He fought some bastards when he was in the mood, but mostly, he always wanted to come back home as soon as possible and talk Baekjin's ears off. He didn't keep the cutout only in the bedroom. He moved it to the living room when he was gaming, mocking Baekjin for having such terrible interests an always being a nerd. Having him watch Seongje while he ate his food.
"You wanted to be chased. That's what I'm doing." He'd explained to Baekjin's cardboard cutout while laying on the bed as if Baekjin was questioning why he was doing all this. He probably was. "It's all your fault for making me want you in the first place when all you wanted was fucking Baku. Never knew what you saw in that guy. Tell me, would you even be going after him if you didn't have history?"
"Your type is sad, pathetic guys, isn't it?" Seongje scoffed into the silence, sparing a vile glance at Baekjin's cutout.
"I was too much of a mirror for you, apparently. Baku is kind and passionate and a fucking idiot." He glared at the ceiling. "Maybe he didn't see how fucked up you were because of how stupid he is. But I did. And you didn't like that." He chuckled bitterly to himself in the dark.
"Hope you're having fun in hell, asshole." He turned away from Baekjin's cutout and faced the wall, closing his eyes.
—oo—
While he took a break from playing games, he glanced at Baekjin in the corner of the living room. He then looked around the room. Scattered clothes, empty ramen bowls and cans, dirty laundry sitting in the bedroom. Baekjin wouldn't want him here, in his apartment. He especially wouldn't want him Seongje touching his possessions. His belongings that he so carefully had guarded. He got up and came face to face with the cutout, smirking.
"Guess what? I'm now in control of everything you've left behind. I get to clean your things and you don't. I know you wouldn't want me touching anything in here. And that's why I'm gonna do it. Show you what you lost by dying, hmm?" Seongje chuckled, putting a cigarette between his lips.
He got to work. Took the empty food containers and cans and threw them in the dustbin. Tossed the dirty laundry into the washing machine next. And then he wiped the dirty surfaces. The coffee table. Kitchen counter. The TV stand. He pulled some of the drawers open and rummaged through them. He grinned to himself, peeking at Baekjin in the corner. He flung the old newspapers to the side and found old DVDs stacked at the bottom neatly. Huh. He looked at the covers. He knew none of them, but it was surprising enough that Baekjin had them. Who the fuck watched movies on DVDs in this day and age?
Although, if he thought about it, Baekjin would be likely a really old person inside with the way he acted.
When he dug further, he saw there were a few cable chargers. He left them alone. There was a photo tucked away in one of the newspapers that fell out when he stood up with it to trash it. He raised a brow, bending down to pick it up. A small Baekjin was looking off into distance while a lady was carrying him in her arms. He squinted his eyes. He'd seen her somewhere. And then he remembered the orphanage. What was her name? Yeon? Yoon? Ms. Yooon? That was the young version of her with the small Baekjin. He got his phone out and snapped a picture of it. He turned to Baekjin and held up the polaroid. "You look so hopeful. Pure. Wonder where it all went wrong." He narrowed his eyes as if waiting for Baekjin to respond. When Baekjin didn't, he sighed as if disappointed. "Nothing? I'm finding out about all your little secrets and all you give me is silence." He mocked.
After a minute, the washing machine made a little sing-song noise caught his attention and he walked to it.
—oo—
The alley was the same when he got there the next day. There weren't many losers hanging around by the entrance. He made his way to the office at the back, flicked on the dim light at the center of the room. He went over to the chair behind the desk. Sat down with his legs crossed on top of the table. Baekjin would kill for just doing that. He snorted, spinning in the chair. It was old and rusty, uncomfortable. As he spun, the couch caught his eye. The last conversation they had replayed in his mind, and his jaw tightened. The kiss. He got up. Padded lazily to it and sat down on the same spot he had that night. Turned his head to his left. Baekjin had sat there. Not anymore.
Seongje stayed there. For hours. Laid down. Took a nap. Played a few games. And then, it was around evening time when he heard footsteps.
He looked up from his phone. When the footsteps didn't continue coming towards the office, he got up and strolled out lazily.
Mr. Choi was standing at the entrance, speaking to someone in a low voice on his phone. Seongje's gaze hardened, a smirk turning one corner of his mouth upwards.
After a second, Mr. Choi finished the call and noticed Seongje standing there. "Keum Seongje! Exactly who I wanted to see here."
Seongje stared at him impassively and then put on a smile. "Mr. Choi."
"Well, let me get to it." Mr. Choi said, taking a seat on one of the round stools nearby. "Na Baekjin is dead. So I need someone to take his place."
Seongje started chuckling, his shoulders shaking. "And you think I'll do it?"
"Yes. I mean, consider the offer. The money." Mr. Choi took his card out and extended it to him, his eyes empty of any humanity.
Seongje could kill this man right now. No cameras or witnesses were around, nor were Mr. Choi's dogs. He could do it. Should do it. He glanced up at the ceiling, as if to communicate the wish to Baekjin. He could imagine him saying a resounding, "Don't be stupid. You can't kill him. He has his men outside."
Well, that was expected. He sighed and looked back at Mr. Choi's extended hand. "Too much paperwork. I'll pass."
Mr. Choi appeared taken aback, but nodded nonetheless. Seongje walked past him and out of the alley. As predicted by Baekjin, a car stood on the left with two bodyguards out. Two more were probably inside. He contemplated fighting them. Nah. Probably not worth it. Besides, he was getting hungry.
Seongje sat down at the dining table, Baekjin's cutout stood behind the chair on his opposite. He glanced up as he chewed the chicken flavored ramen noodles. The TV was turned on, a low thrumming sound in the back. It was always too quiet in Baekjin's apartment. He found it uncomfortable. So he started talking. As he always did.
"Mr. Choi came at the alley. Offered me the 'leader' position." He snorted around a mouthful before swallowing it. "They can't control me like a dog, you know? Unlike you, I play by own rules. No fun in containing the chaos when you can unleash them. But you wouldn't understand fun, would you?" He stared at the cutout without blinking. Baekjin's eyes with the small, rare smile stared back as if to mock him. Taunting that it knew Seongje wasn't exactly having fun right now either. He'd barely fought someone since the punks that showed up in front of Baekjin's apartment a week ago. He grinned, breaking the eye contact with a shake of his head. "Getting on my nerves even when you can't talk or move."
He got up, threw the empty container in the dustbin and then dragged Baekjin into the bedroom.
Fifteen minutes in, he couldn't focus on the game he was playing. He glanced at Baekjin's cutout just across the bed and rolled his eyes. He unlocked his phone again. Opened the gallery. Scrolled through old photos of Baekjin's. Some of them were blurred. Some of them taken from fights he'd witnessed. Most of them featured Baekjin in the alley office, doing idle things like smoking or studying or both. On a call. Glaring at Seongje to get off his ass from the couch and do what he was supposed to. One of them was Baekjin with his mouth mid-talk, shaped round as if he were in shock.
Seongje's hand traveled down his pants. Took his cock out. Closed his eyes and imagined the same open mouth of Baekjin's on his cock, taking him deep in his throat. He gathered the pre come from his tip and gave himself a stroke. Another. And then another while he thought about Baekjin watching him from just across the room. He came with his mouth open in a silent cry. And then as if to confirm Baekjin's cutout was still there, he blinked his eyes and looked to the left. Still watching. Still there. He came again.
—oo—
Seongje had long changed the sheets Baekjin used to sleep on in case something like last night happened, so he wouldn't have to wash them. He'd taken the sheets, folded them, and put them in the drawer inside the closet. Sometimes, when he couldn't fall asleep which seemed to be frequently these days, he took the blanket out that was with the sheets and wrapped himself in it. It was never enough. He'd even tried to recreate the same smell that the sheets had. That everything in Baekjins' apartment had, but he couldn't get it quite right. The faint cigarette scent, his sweat and adrenaline after a fight, the vanilla smell of his body soap. He just couldn't fucking get it right.
It frustrated him to no end.
Weeks passed just like the last one. He'd started ditching school and stayed home to entertain a certain someone. Now that he could have Baekjin in front of his eyes 24/7, he couldn't just leave him. It was fun to talk to him, because often, he was met with silence. His pretty mouth was shut for once and just listened to Seongje speak.
In the morning, he'd wake up, shower, jerk off if he'd woken up horny, eat something, game until afternoon, eat, game again, watch a boring movie during dinner, and then go to bed. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw Baekjin. And every time, he opened them, he saw Baekjin staring at him with a knowing gleam in his eyes. As if he were saying, 'All you can do is fantasize about me', which wasn't true to any length, so Seongje would laugh at him. Tell him to go fuck himself and close his eyes agian to fall asleep.
It worked. The few rare times.
In the morning, he got ready to go out. Prove to Baekjin he wasn't staying inside the apartment for him. "Socializing is hardly worth it when you're surrounded by idiots." He grinned as he ate a toast standing in front of Baekjin.
He decided to visit the orphanage. Find out more about Baekjin's past. Tell them he died. They could mourn him.
When he got there, the lady in Baekjin's childhood picture was nowhere to be found. He looked around, bored. A man walked up to him. He seemed like an employee as far as Seongje could tell from his clothing. His name tag read 'Park Joon-tae'. "Hello. How may I help you?"
Seongje raised a brow. "Ms. Yoon." He said.
The employee, Park Joon-tae, tilted his head in slight confusion. "Manager Yoon? She's in her office. Would you like me to show you where that is?"
"No." Seongje denied and started striding inside the place.
He knocked twice before entering, not waiting for a response. Ms. Yoon peeked at him from above her glasses, before she startled up. "Oh. Baekjin's friend. Come in, come in."
Seongje nodded, sitting down.
Ms. Yoon raised her eyebrows, wondering how Baekjin ended up making such a rude friend. She sighed and sat back down in her seat. "Did he send you to make another donation?"
Seongje shook his head, glancing away from the spider on the ceiling and back down at her. "He's dead." He said, not knowing how else to say it.
Ms. Yoon's eyes widened in shock, mouth falling agape. "What? Is this some joke?" She stood back up.
"I wish." Seongje tilted his head up slightly to meet her gaze. He saw Ms. Yoon's face fall, her shoulders slumping down as she stared in disbelief, the denial set deep in her eyes.
"No. You…that can't—" She slumped down in her seat, hands gripping the handles of her chair as she continued to be in terrified state, a sob leaving her lips.
Several minutes passed since she'd last spoken. Her soft crying filling the room even as she tried to contain herself in front of Seongje.
"When?"
Seongje glanced dwon at his lap and then met her eyes. "Four weeks ago."
Ms. Yoon cried harder. "Why?! Why wait this long to tell me? Did you—"
"He was working for a gangster, and he failed." Seongje replied calmly.
Ms. Yoon's eyes widened, realization dawning upon her. It wasn't shock, though. Like she'd almost expected Seongje to say if. More tears flowed down her cheeks as her shoulders shook.
So this is what grief looked like, Seongje observed quietly. And then a sudden sharp wave of awareness washed over him at the fact that he didn't feel such abstract pain when he found out about Baekjin's death. The pang was unsettling.
But perhaps it was about the person who was dead. Maybe he didn't feel as sad because they weren't that close. Ms. Yoon clearly cared for him. That he wasn't just an asshole as he displayed himself. That he probably had a little gentler side to him. Vulnerability that he refused to show anyone. Weakness, Seongje thought distantly.
He didn't offer any comforting words, because he didn't have any. But, he answered questions Ms. Yoon asked. He even came up with his own questions about Baekjin out of curiosity and the need to know everything about him. A puzzle he couldn't walk away from.
—oo—
"She told me a lot about you. That you used to play the violin like a prodigy when you were younger. That you hated sharing. Quiet and stern, always. But never unloved. She treated you like her own son. And you ran away from it and chose the hard way to life? For what? Baku?" Seongje leaned back on the couch, tilting his head as he looked at Baekjin. "Pathetic life you lived mhmm?" He chuckled blankly.
He grinned when he remembered a particular memory. "Oh yeah, you even volunteered in your free time. Saint in the morning, satan in the night. Isn't that right?"
When Baekjin just stared at him in agonizing silence, his grin widened. "Ashamed that I'm finding out all about your little secrets? I would be."
"The interesting thing is you never told anyone about it. Not me, not Baku. Why? Were you scared of being seen as a human when you clearly weren't?"
Seongje sighed, closing his eyes. "It's like you want me to laugh at your miserable life." But even as he said those words, he didn't feel amusement. Felt the twisting force inside his chest that left him breathless. He stood up. Went to the kitchen to get himself a bottle of beer.
When he came back, he raised the drink in a silent cheer to Baekjin and finished it all in one go.
He passed out on the couch.
When he woke up, his limbs were in a jumble. He blinked. Looked to his right. Found an empty green bottle and groaned as he felt the headache pound blood in his ears. His eyes found Baekjin's across the room. He could see the entertainment in his still gaze. The pity at Seongje's state.
Seongje rolled his eyes. It hurt to even do that. There was acid in his mouth like an awful aftertaste. He dragged himself to the shower.
After he'd came back, he drank a glass of water. It didn't help. His head still throbbing. He sat down on the couch. Played games for an hour before he was bored.
Well, he tried.
Dragging Baekjin inside the bedroom, he stood him in the corner and laid down on his side. "Enjoying this, huh? Can't blame you, I guess." He grumbled.
"You're rubbing off on me. Can't even handle a single bottle of beer. You rarely drank. But when you did, you threw yourself at me." He smirked softly.
And then, his eyes started getting droopy, sleep taking over.
—oo—
Seongje stopped going to school completely. Couldn't. Anytime he tried to go out, he felt eyes on the back of his head telling him 'don't go'. Baekjin was finally where he needed him. He couldn't abandon him. Nonetheless, calls and messages piled up on his phone as he locked himself in the apartment day in and out.
He didn't want to go out. All day, he could talk to Baekjin. Make him realize what he'd lost by dying. By chasing Baku. By not seeing what was right in front of him the whole time. Seongje. He was there. But Baekjin was stubborn.
"I'm right here. Not running away like Baku did. He made you fight for him. But I'm here. I gave you the attention, the pity, the focus, the loyalty. None of which he ever did. But you refused to accept it all. Died for that bastard. Failed. Is that what you wanted? To die for him?" He laughed hollowly.
Seongje gestured vaguely around him. "And now what? Everything you had is mine. Your apartment, your secrets, your mother figure who heard the news of your death from me. Baku didn't even know the real you. But I do now. Everything. The ugly and the raw parts of you."
He glanced back at Baekjin. Held Baekjin's empty gaze. "You gave up everything for someone who didn't even deserve to have you. I did."
The front door opened, but Seongje hadn't heard it. When the footsteps could be heard entering inside, and he finally looked up, startled.
Baku's eyes went from Seongje to the cardboard cutout of Baekjin just across him. His eyes widened slightly, eyebrows frowning. "What is this?" He asked out loud, his gaze staying on Baekjin's cutout.
Seongjes's head turned to him, taken off guard at Baku's presence. He grinned. "Oh, look who decided to join us, Baekjin. Your dear ex-boyfriend." Seongje said, looking back at Baekjin.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Baku questioned, coming forward cautiously, still alarmed.
Seongje chuckled, leaning back against the couch. "Keeping Baekjin from running away again. Now, he just stands in a spot I put him in. No more chasing you." His eyes lit up, smile widening.
Baku eyed Seongje's face. The dark circles underneath his eyes, ruffled hair, slurred speech as if he hadn't slept a wink in days. His frame thinner than he'd remembered. "He's dead, Seongje." His voice raised slightly with grief and anger.
"You know, I tried. Really hard, in fact, to show him that he can get what he want without running after you like a dog. Less than a dog. That I was right in front of him. But he stayed stubborn until the end, didn't he? Fought your little boy band to get you and failed." Seongje laughed, voice devoid of any humor. It filled the room with an eery presence that left the air hollow. "But he isn't unpredictable anymore. He's here. Right in front of my eyes every minute of the day. Unmoving."
Baku stared at him in shock, trying to process what exactly Seongje was going on about. "This is sick. You're sick. Stop it!"
Seongje grinned like he'd heard that before. He turned to Baekjin. "Did you hear that? He's calling me sick when all you did was cause violence to get back with him. Tell him who's the one that's sick, Baekjin."
When silence followed his words, he circled back to Baku's horrified face. Baku watched Seongje's eyes, unusally calm and lacking the usual sense of amusement. He took a step forward.
"You need to get help, Seongje. He's dead."
Seongje laughed, staring at him. And then his face sobered into something serious. "You left him to die. He's dead because of you. And I'm the one who needs help?" He sneered.
"He's gone. You need to let him go.” Baku whispered, his anger being replaced by sorrow and pity. He walked to the cutout to destroy it, Seongje on his back in a second, shoving him away as he stood in front of Baekjin with in ferocity.
Baku didn't want to fight him, so he pushed him away roughly and snapped the cutout in half, throwing it on the ground.
Seongje's eyes widened as he stared at the cutout. No. Baekjin. He couldn't die. He—
The door slammed behind Baku as Seongje stared at the cutout with his chest heaving. He shifted on his knees, picked the pieces to put them back together. They didn't. He tried again after getting the tape from the bedroom. Stuck them together. It didn't look the same. Broken. He laughed. And laughed before screaming into the empty silence of the apartment until his throat was hoarse.
He got up and went to Baekjin's bedroom. Found the gun in his closet. Typed in Baekjin's birthday, and the locker sprang open, revealing the bullets inside with cash. He stood Baekjin up against the wall in the living room and faced him.
His heart thudded numbly inside his chest, but his mind saw the clarity it never had. The answer was right in front of him all this time. He just had to look.
He chuckled dryly. "Remove the variables to solve the problem, right? Well, here I come." He whispered and pointed the weapon to his head.
The gunshot echoed in the empty apartment.
They could finally be together.