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Geum Seongje was an aggressive man; Baekjin knew this more than anyone else. He knew the weight of his punches, the dread of his footsteps, how everyone else looked up to him and cowered away at the same time. Baekjin knew this not because he feared those fists, but because sometimes, Seongje takes away the breath of the other boys in the union more than he does.
It’s something he should be thankful for. Fear never meant authority to Baekjin, but Seongje carrying that weight for him assured him more than anything else.
Everyone knew Geum Seongje to be an aggressive man. Baekjin never thought that he’d be the one to see the other side of it, let alone be the receiver of the gentleness he carried.
The fight with Eunjang left him damaged in more ways than one. Other than his ruined reputation and trust, which he continues to work on regaining up to this day, Baekjin’s shoulder and leg never seemed to recover. He limped, his arm trembled every time it was raised, making him unable to do his routine (not even styling his hair is easy), fighting just wasn’t the same as before, and everything else just changed along with it.
What remained constant, though, was Seongje.
It started with gentle touches on his back, guiding him into doors, leading him up the stairs. Baekjin would look at him curiously every time it happened, but Seongje always refused to meet his questioning gaze. The smile on his lips made it clear to Baekjin that every single one of his gestures are intentional.
All things unusual are bound to be uncomfortable, though little by little, the uncomfortable feeling began to be processed as warmth, to the point that sometimes, he’d slow his steps just to feel Seongje’s hand guide him ahead. It was a simple act that he looked forward to every day, maybe because it had been a while since he was held so gently, that he was willing to crave even the slightest touches the world was willing to hand over to him.
It was a long day for him. For someone like Baekjin, his days are inevitably long for someone with so much to do, he wanted to get up from his seat, but doing so would only add more hours stuck in it tomorrow. He notices Seongje the moment he walks in, but he learned a few hours earlier that moving his head around makes him feel like throwing his breakfast back up.
“You’re busy,” Seongje observes. “They’re closing up soon. Do you want to lock the doors yourself?”
He definitely doesn’t want to do anything else but lie down, but Baekjin hums anyway.
“You look a little green.”
“It’s just the light.”
“No…” Seongje strides over to the table and puts his palm against Baekjin’s forehead— he almost leans into the cool touch. But he can’t let himself be led by so much of his greed, not anymore. “Ah, shit. You’re burning up, Baekjin-ah.”
“You said they’re going to close up, are you not going to leave?”
Seongje chuckles, “I am. You’re coming with me.”
“Seongje–” Baekjin starts to protest, he nearly recoils at how soft his plea came out.
Seongje clicks his tongue, “No, you don’t get to refuse me this time.”
His head swirls the moment Seongje helps him up. Baekjin always feels a bit silly when he gets sick; strong punches can throw him off, but who knew that a little cold could bring him down so easily?
This sucks. He thinks, as he leans onto Seongje for support. This is pathetic.
Seongje snakes a firm grip around his waist.
Oh, that’s a bit harsher than usual. Comforting, either way. Seongje smells nice.
“Sorry if I smell like smoke.”
Geum Seongje smells nice.
Baekjin doesn’t process the rest of what happened, he could only feel his feet moving and pairs of eyes following him and Seongje out of the building, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. It was warm, and that was enough.
He opens his eyes the moment he feels himself being laid down on a soft surface, “Seongje-ah?”
“Mmm?”
“This isn’t my house.”
Silence. “You’re in mine. Do you mind?”
Baekjin doesn’t answer, letting himself relax into the bed.
Seongje moves around him, noticeably trying to tone down the noise of whatever he’s doing. The creaks of the floorboards are too far apart, hinting that the other was slowing his steps as an attempt to be quiet. Baekjin suppresses a smile.
He feels a wet cloth on his forehead.
“Why are you doing this?” He asks, eyes still closed.
Seongje chuckles at the question, “Is anyone else going to?”
“Then why you?”'
Baekjin feels gentle fingers brush his hair back.
“Because it’s you.”
Ah, Baekjin thinks, consciousness slipping away from him. He speaks like he’s in love with me.
_____________
He doesn’t see Seongje for a whole week after he sneaks away from the other’s apartment in the middle of the night, nor does he talk to him aside from occasional and necessary phone calls. Not that he feels ashamed or in debt, Baekjin simply does not know what other expects of him after showing how he can be so vulnerable.
And so Baekjin buries himself right back into his work, taking up more projects in school, wasting his hours away in his gloomy office, which slowly started to depress him day by day. Baekjin misses the orange figure lingering around, followed by the smell of smoke.
He buys an ashtray for Seongje two weeks after they last saw each other.
But Seongje doesn’t come to his office like he had anticipated.
It took Baekjin three more days before he realized that he’s been pondering over something so silly for days on end. He takes the day away from the office and goes home immediately, realizing that he can’t just shut himself away in his office and expect Seongje to come to him at the same time. It’s not like he’s the one in love. Seongje is.
The thought of it doesn’t repulse him at all, but instead, makes him wonder what was going on in Geum Seongje’s head to have such feelings for him. It was obvious, and Baekjin wonders if the other makes it intentionally so.
Baekjin comes back the next day to a box of banana milk and a cupcake on his table. Only Seongje had the keys to the office other than him.
The cupcake somehow settles the nerves in his stomach.
The next day, it was strawberry soda, followed by a muffin the day after that. Seongje leaves food on his table every day without fail, but Baekjin can’t seem to catch him, no matter how early he arrives. Baekjin didn’t mind, he just wished that the ashtray would be just as useful to the other.
Baekjin doesn’t ask him about it, despite having the chance to do so every time Seongje calls, and Seongje doesn’t imply anything either. The only possible hint he had ever gotten was when Seongje had asked him if he had already eaten, and when Baekjin answered yes, came an approving hum at the end of the line.
Seongje’s voice was nice.
“Seongje…”
“Hmm?”
’I miss you.’ “Come by the office later.”
He despises how his heart trembled with his words, but it assured him when Seongje’s response carried just as much. “Give me fifteen minutes.”
_____________
The gestures continue, and so do the snacks on his table each day. Baekjin pretends not to feel a sense of content whenever he sees the ashtray on the coffee table used up, nor does he give any comment about how Seongje began to move one of the chairs closer to his table. He wonders if Seongje already knows that Baekjin already notices everything, but at the same time, Baekjin wishes he didn’t.
Because if Seongje was a man in love, then what does that make Baekjin?
“Do your shoulders still hurt?” Seongje breaks the silence with the question as he remains unmoving on the couch. “I have heat packs.”
“They’re fine,” Baekjin responds. He doesn’t hear anything else from Seongje after that, but after what seemed to be thirty minutes, he hears loud, loud creaking. He looks up with a glare and sees Seongje pushing the smaller couch towards the table, the other meets his eyes and laughs.
“I’ll put it back later, just push your chair back for a bit.” Baekjin follows.
He watches Seongje work on whatever idea he formed in his mind. He switches Baekjin’s work chair with the couch and pats the leather cushion once satisfied. “Sit here instead.”
“I can’t reach the table on that.”
“I said sit here.” Seongje sighed, “Not sit here and work.”
“Seongje—”
“Baekjin.”
Na Baekjin finds himself on the couch a second later.
Seongje walks over to him and sits on the ground, taking the injured leg onto his lap. Baekjin grips both armrests at the sudden action. “What are you doing?”
“Giving you a massage.” Seongje gently pressed on his leg.
“Seongje, let go.”
“Come on, Baekjin-ah, you’ve been so good until now.” Baekjin’s breath hitches at his words. He lets out a shaky breath and watches as Seongje attempts to relax the pain on his leg. “A grandma at this one restaurant says that the weather affects injuries and pains sometimes.”
“I’m not old.”
“You’re in pain.” Seongje clicks his tongue.
“It’s bearable.”
“It doesn’t have to be.” Seongje continues. “Sometimes you make me feel like a dog, you know? Then I realized that I’m the one letting myself feel this way. You could call me from a mile away, and I’d come rushing back to your side.”
Baekjin’s gaze hardens, leaning forward as he tries to pull his limb away, only to be pulled back. Seongje looks at him with the same calm demeanor. Baekjin wonders if the other feels joy deep within, given how stressed Baekjin must be at this moment, just as his other enemies do.
“I’m not saying it like it’s a bad thing. Sure, it’s really fucking annoying. It’s annoying that no matter how much you fuck your way through things, I still can’t seem to tear myself away from you.”
“What’s your point?”
“You’re just…” Seongje starts, “Really fucking annoying.”
What?
“Losing to Eunjang may have been difficult for you, I know.” Seongje says with a trembling voice, “But I’m thankful that you did. I’m thankful that Park Humin left, that you just laid there… that everyone else just walked away, and I got to be the one to put you back together.”
“We lost the union because of that fight, Seongje.”
“And I could have lost you.” The other says through gritted teeth. The grip on Baekjin’s ankle tightened, but not enough to hurt… just held with trembling hands, like fragile shells under a heel. “They wanted to have you killed, Choi Changhee and those bastards. I was supposed to replace you, but I…”
Seongje looks up at him, “Baekjin, you must know... Surely you must know it was all for you.”
“I don’t understand.”
Seongje laughs, but his eyes remain sad. “You’re at the top of your school, Baekjin, I’m sure you do.”
Baekjin traps his bottom lip between his teeth and shakes his head, “Then I don’t want to understand.”
“... You really are a pain,” Seongje mutters, but there’s no malice behind his words, only defeat. Baekjin hates how he’s right. He hates that he knows, he hates that he knows, yet remains just as clueless. “Baekjin, I ache for you.”
Baekjin lets himself break. His eyebrows furrow as he looks down at his lap. He doesn’t know how to respond. How can someone born hungry take such a thing without harming it with its claws? His father could not love him, Park Humin could not love him, so why…
“I don’t know how to be gentle.”
“So do I.
“I don’t know how to love.”
“Then look at me. Look at me, Baekjin. I will show you how full you are of it.”
Baekjin does, and Geum Seongje leans up to capture Baekjin’s lips with his.
Once again, at least for now, he lets himself be hungry. He lets himself yearn. Na Baekjin will let Seongje cling onto him with his claws, and he’ll finally allow himself to bleed in return.