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you don’t think about him very often. at least, that’s what you tell goo, what you tell eugene, and more importantly, what you tell yourself. jake kim has had a spot dedicated for him in your mind, your tiny shriveled up heart, since the day the two of you first met. you’ve burned each physical reminder of him that you could, locked up the memories and threw away the key, ripped out your heart from your chest and squashed it to a bloody mess beneath your heel. and still, you will never forget that day you met when you ran together with your tails between your legs like cowards, jake kim laughing all the while and looking at you not with fear or contempt like many others—but with something like fondness, soft affection that’s never been directed towards you. as if you were someone he viewed not as enemy who could and would kill him, but a friend to make no matter the challenge. you were not the widely feared leader of the gangseo union that day, knuckles permanently bruised and searching for a father that wasn’t yours; you were, simply, a boy.
you think you were not made for such softness; not the melodic laughter and grabby hands of jake kim as he drags you down the street of big deal despite your irritated protests, not the flavorful taste of eating skewers together under the artificial light of a rundown store in the dark of the night, not the uncomfortable and too small mattress of your bed big deal could barely afford digging into your back as brad sleeps on your left and jason on your right, jake snoring loudly as he sprawls out right on top of you. he’s crushing you, and you should want to kill him, but you wrap an arm around his back to make sure he won’t fall instead; you are, simply, boys.
you abandon softness and abandon big deal, shed the skin that’s become too small for you and become a man. you ask jake kim to leave with you, tell yourself it’s because you want him beneath you and under your thumb at all times, and not because you’d miss him if you left. he tells you his father is gapryong kim and you wish you never asked. if possible, you hate him even more. you love him all the same.
(no, not love. you’re samuel seo. what would you know about love? how could you love?)
you leave big deal and it falls apart as quick as you thought it would, and you ignore the updates jake texts you, leave him on read as he describes to you how they’re losing all their money fast, how he doesn’t know how he’ll keep big deal afloat like this. you don’t give him advice. you don’t even consider it. there’s a month long pause for reasons you don’t understand at the time, and then he texts you that they’re doing just fine now. he doesn’t tell you how. you don’t ask.
and then, he stops giving you updates entirely, barely texts you anymore. the only messages you get from him are the ones at three am when he’s drunk and nostalgic and miserable all the same. you can barely read what he writes with how many spelling mistakes are in his words, whether it be from how drunk he is or if he’s crying so hard he can’t see the screen. you still ignore his texts, but on your weakest nights, when you lie awake in your empty and barely lived in penthouse alone in your bed and think about big deal, about jake kim, you call him.
he always answers on the second ring, gasping heavily through his choked sobs. you think you are the only person who ever hears him like this. you say nothing to him, but he’s always been the one to fill the silence between the two of you, and he talks and talks and talks. you listen to every word. he cries about big deal, about how he doesn’t know what he’s doing, how much he hates the things he has to do (though you still don’t know quite what ‘things’ are. you laugh when you first find out. it’s so unlike jake kim, and so nauseatingly like you.)
he tells you how much he misses sinu, and then how much he misses you. you consider hanging up on him then each and every time, but you never do. because for as much of a cruel bastard you are, you can’t be cruel to jake kim when he’s like this. at least, that’s what you tell yourself, so you don’t have to think about how you‘ve yet to block him only because you need him as much as he needs you those nights. it’s sad. it’s jake kim.
he grins, tells you you look good and asks if you’ve been working out. you don’t dignify it with a response. you know you look good, you’re samuel seo, and if he wants to get a reaction out of you he’ll have to try harder. you tell him you’re sorry you didn’t visit him while he was in prison, your tone and expression alone making it clear you’re not. you do it all in an attempt to piss him off, like you always do, and like every other time, it doesn’t work. he just smiles, the crooked one with his eyes crinkled with something like warmth. it’s annoying. it’s jake kim.
much, much later, when gun is gone in juvie and the desperate want for approval that curled low in your gut has faded to a mere hum, you seek him out first. you know he won’t deny you. he won’t reject you, like everyone else in your life has. when you kiss him, he tastes like smoke and ash and something a little softer, a little sweeter, a little more jake kim. you’ve hooked up with enough people to be used to the bitter taste of cigarettes, but you’ve never tasted anything like this. your hand slides from the collar of his shirt to his face to cup his cheek, guiding him to another angle, and you realize with a little satisfaction that jake probably hasn’t kissed many people. he wasn’t waiting for you, couldn’t be, but you’ll like to think he was and you’ll lie awake at night wondering if he always wanted his first kiss to be with you. you take the chance to lick deeper into his mouth, rub your tongue against his, the practiced, almost artificial kissing coming natural from you. you’ve done this many, many times, with many different people, and you know just what to do to get them to moan, to make their knees buckle, almost machine like as you kiss them. but he’s not a random hookup, not someone to kick out and forget about in the morning; he’s jake kim. he’s the boy who held your arm and laughed when you cursed him out as you ran away together from the black bear gang. he’s the boy who clapped you on the back, squeezed your shoulder, and told you you’re his best friend. he’s the boy who’s plagued your mind since the day you met him.
and then you taste him, really taste him, and pull back with your nose wrinkled in disgust as the flavors of chocolate sauce and kimchi combined melts into your tastebuds. you forgot, he’s also the boy who insists on eating the most horrific food combos known to man. it’s nasty. it’s jake kim.
you let go of him, only to rifle through the pockets of your nice slacks. you idly think that jake has never worn a pair like these, has never felt the soft material and quality fabric, has never looked at a price tag and bought something for himself without a second thought, without the need to worry. not like you. you can’t decide if you hate the fact he lives like that or if you love the feeling of superiority you feel over him.
you thumb at the box, shake out a small mint. you shove it into his face. jake’s face twists with confusion, then amusement, as he laughs heartily and leans away from your insistent pushing.
“come on!” he protests, still racking with laughter. “it’s not that bad!”
“it is that bad.” you hiss back, opening his palm and forcing him to take the mint.
he whines and complains, but seems more fixated on when he gets to kiss you next, so he takes it. you stare at him for a long moment, wait for it dissolve. he opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue to show you, and you roughly grab him by the collar of his shirt to mash your mouth to his and suck on his tongue. the whine you pull from him goes straight your groin, and you insistently lick all over his mouth, like you’re trying to devour him and consume him whole and make him a part of you. you don’t want him to leave. or, more accurately, you don’t want to leave him.
because you know jake kim will never abandon you, not like you have him. he makes that abundantly clear every unfortunate time you see him. he’ll wait for you at every corner you turn, every path you cross with that smile you hate on his face and a gloved hand outstretched to you. not like a puppy, kneeling by your feet and waiting for you to return to him, but an equal by your side waiting for you to return to big deal. you never will. he knows that, too. it doesn’t stop him. it’s pathetic. it’s jake kim.
he loves you.
he shouldn’t.
(you love him, too.)