Work Text:
It can’t be called normal. No, it’s a decidedly strange feeling, this emptiness. Baku has no tears left to shed; he doesn’t want to cry, especially not in front of Gotak. Gotak, who has visited every day since the funeral, bearing his favorite snacks and drinks, bringing his video games over. “Talk to me when you’re ready, hm?” he had said, wide eyes solemn and understanding.
Gogo sits, leaning on Baku’s bedframe, his quiet presence grounding. It doesn’t help with the guilt, though. Not for Baekjin, but for Gotak. Baku’s ashamed of himself for crying onto Gotak’s shoulder as the other consoles him, embarrassed that he has the gall to weep for his killer. Because that’s what Na Baekjin did, killed Gotak’s old self, the one who had so much ahead of him and so much worth living for. The emotions swell into fury- at himself, at Baekjin- and he is so overwhelmed with the insanity of it all he could almost laugh.
But Gotak never ceases to live on. Everyday after school ends(after Baku spends the day rotting in his shame and his guilt and his anger), he’s there at Baku’s door, letting himself in so effortlessly. As natural as he breathes air, Gotak steps in, greets Baku’s father, and brings in the homework and notes from class. Sets up shop on Baku’s rug; green matte folder, crumpled notes, light blue pencil case. Slowly but surely Baku feels himself perk up at the familiar double knock that indicates Gotak’s presence. Color begins to seep into his monochrome life and he’s not dumb enough not to notice why.
It wasn’t a sudden realization. Oh. I’m in love with Hyeontak. It was more like an acceptance, Baku-subconsciously- eagerly giving into something that had crawled in the seams of their relationship since he could remember Gotak’s first, wide mouthed, crescent moon eyed smile. Like it was destined from the beginning.
The next time his eyes well up with tears, they fall for Go Hyeontak.
—-----
It’s not easy to fall back into daily habits and cycles. He’s missed too much school, his only saving graces are Gotak’s notes and support, Sieun’s reluctant offer to tutor him, Juntae’s silent encouragement in the form of manga and vitamins(He’s gotten acquainted to the anime club through Juntae, and now has another something to look forward to at school).
There’s another slight bump in the road: Gotak refuses to meet his eyes these days. He laughs all fine and dandy, doesn’t refuse Baku’s physical affections, but Baku hasn’t properly seen his pretty eyes ever since… ever since the funeral. The damn funeral. And fuck Baekjin, too. It’s driving him mad, but he can’t muster up the courage to ask Gotak, and so he’s left to stew in a flurry of spirals and what-if’s.
What if it’s my fault? Because I failed to notice Gotak until it was too late?
What if our friendship will never be the same? Because I’m an idiot and cried for Na Baekjin?
The ceiling at night is cruel and unforgiving mistress, but Baku can’t help but stare at it as he tries and fails to fall asleep. After a few days of noticing his dark undereyes, Juntae swoops in like a glasses-wearing guardian angel.
“Here, Baku,” he mumbles, shyly, “Magnesium might help you sleep,” Flashing a sweet smile, Juntae waves goodbye, jogging back to the pharmacy. Bless his soul, because it sure as hell works. Sure, he’s wracked with nightmares and trembling bouts as he relives dark, unlit scenes of violence, but he feels better in the morning, forgets the worst of his fears when he sees Gotak’s figure, concrete and faithfully there to greet him with a small gesture. Thank you, Juntae!
The jump of his heart and the breath that catches in his throat as he tries to get his words out coolly distract from all other worries that would otherwise occupy his mind. It skips a beat now as Gotak looks up expectantly- he’s just a few centimeters short of Baku’s height, which is absolute perfection- and the sun shines at just the right angle to create an illusion of a flash of green atop his iris. Emerald green. No; perhaps more like peridot. A lighter, fresher hue, not to mention Baku’s own birthstone. He could reminisce for ages about shades of green, grass under their feet as they race up a hill, small weeds popping up from within the cracks in the basketball court, the lucky four leaf clover he carries in his phone case(a gift from Gogo, years old but still holding on). The color holds so much life, just like Gotak himself. Gotak, whose peridot eyes quickly leave Baku’s gaze and focus on the ground. Darn it.
Where just a month ago the two would have met eyes and laughed, met eyes and raised eyebrows, met eyes and kept them there until one looked away, Gotak flees and doesn’t look back. Ephemeral flashes of green are all Baku can think about. Still, he can appreciate small mercies. Gotak stays close by his side, as if stuck by glue and fear(Maybe, hopefully, something more). They still share lunch, trading slices of tangerine for strawberries, bean paste buns for a bite of honeyed rice cake. Gotak takes his tomatoes and piles some of his bulgogi onto Baku’s tray. Their unofficial-official seats in class remain next to each other, and Baku slings his arm around Gotak’s shoulder easily. Gotak shoots him troubled glances when he thinks Baku isn’t looking. Baku catches himself staring absentmindedly and whips his head away. It’s an uneasy sense of normalcy, but normal nonetheless. And so, life goes on.
—-----
That was a lie. Baku keeps living, yet life seems to stop in its tracks. Because of Gotak.
—-----
When Baku feels ready, they fall back into their steady rhythm of late night basketball and easy sleepovers. Gotak looks worried less, and his laughs are so real that something in Baku’s chest pounds to tear out. He looks at Baku now. Eyebrows furrowed slightly in a manner invisible unless you went looking for that tiny wrinkle, which Baku does, always, but it’s progress.
The nightmares dwindle and taking their place are dreams he’d die before admitting to Gotak. Pale, even thighs wrapped around his waist, squeezing, a whimper he’s heard before only in his dreams, pouty lips he likes to keep in his peripheral vision, Baku shakes his head.
They’re sitting on the basketball court together, turquoise turf cool and rough under his calves.
He’s hit with a sense of Deja Vu- a couple weeks ago, or was it months? They’d sat like this, unaware of what was to come. Just the two of them and the moon reflecting in their eyes. He’d looked over at Gotak then, to see him staring reverently into the night sky. He looks over now. Stops. Gotak faces him, beautiful dark eyes hiding their green away. Sometimes, Baku swears that time jolts when their eyes meet(Life stops in its tracks). He knows he’s always said red was his favorite color, but red and green are complementary, aren’t they?
“Baku? Yah, Park Humin,” Baku remembers what Gotak had said- that he'd wait until Baku was ready to talk. Is the time right now? He glances, seeing Gotak waving in his unfocused eyes.
“Gotak,” He starts. Averts his eyes first. “Thanks. For everything, really.”
“Haha, you know that's what friends are for,” Gogo laughs and the world stops spinning. Baku’s such a goner, and yet. Friends. Yeah, he’d figured. “Why are you being so serious, huh?” Gotak hasn't taken his eyes off of Baku once. All the attention might just make him faint if he’s not careful.
“I- Gogo,” he tilts his head an imperceptibly small degree, sees his eyes flit helplessly towards Gotak’s lips. I want to kiss you, remains unspoken. He comes to suddenly, jumps up. When had they come so close? Gotak's nose had been so close. Had he leaned in as he talked? Had Baku leaned in unknowingly? He regrets moving away, but if he’d really tried, had pressed his lips gently to Gotak’s own, he’s scared about what would be next. If he would open his eyes and see pity and disgust in Gogo’s pretty eyes, oh god.
“Hm?”
“Nothing, nothing. Sorry- I- I just remembered I have to finish the math homework,” Baku stutters out. Now he can't meet Gotak’s eyes properly. Does he know? “Wanna get going?”
“Sure,” Gotak hesitates, then collects himself. “Mom made seaweed soup. Let’s go before it cools.” He looks strange, but doesn’t say anything. The soup warms Baku’s soul and Gotak’s arm casually bumping his as they work through their math problems burns him to the core.
—-----
Baku finds himself hoping to see Gotak in his dreams. Maybe because he knows his wildest dreams have no chance of reality, knows that there are things he’ll only be able to experience in his own mind. Clasping his hands together as he lays on his back, Baku prays. Never mind Gotak, who lies next to him on the cramped mattress, who has never shown any signs of interest in Baku- all he can do is wish for false hope in his dreams.
When Baku wakes from a dreamless sleep, he finds his limbs entangled with Gotak’s, mock embrace teasing his skipping heart. It must be jumping rope in the small chamber between his lungs right now. Scrabbling hastily(and unknowing of Gotak’s own awakeness), he wipes drool from the corner of his mouth, doesn't pray about dream Gotak ever again. Good things only come to those who don’t expect them, after all.
—-----
Their rhythm is still slightly off. Great instead of perfect. Baku’s always been good at noticing things when it comes to Gotak. And it’s becoming impossible to ignore the blatantly obvious when Gotak spends more time with Sieun and Juntae than with Baku. Gotak teaching Juntae how to throw a proper punch, patting the other on his back when he’s doing well. Gotak and Sieun studying together(after all, you can’t make a living from high school street fights once you graduate). Staring longingly, his eyebrows tense and furrow. It’s only when he notices strange looks from Gogo that he realizes he’s obsessing. But he can’t help the flash of jealousy that he struggles to keep buried, even when it’s because of his own friends. After all, isn’t he the only one who would lay down his life for Gotak?
Baku decides to embrace the jealousy, let it burn deep in his core, if only to heighten the extent of his feelings. The emerald green monster glows, fed by every laugh drawn out by Juntae, every time Gotak and Sieun meet eyes while they study, every time Hyoman gets the full brunt of Gotak’s attention as he teases, “lackey,” “lapdog,” “wifey.” When it’s satiated, when Gotak finally-finally- looks at Baku and smiles, or jokes, the rush of affection that follows is tenfold. Baku always makes sure to savor the moment like a snake slowly digesting its overlarge prey.
—-----
He finds that, somehow, he has long since moved on from Baekjin’s death; instead of guilt he feels surprisingly proud of himself.
—-----
“Gogo! Hey, let’s hang out today! Fried chicken on me?” He’s going to drag Gotak to his father’s restaurant if that’s what it takes for Gotak to see him.
“Can’t, homework,” Gotak makes to walk right past, but Baku, in a moment of frenzy, grabs his wrist. If he concentrated, he could probably feel Gotak’s pulse, a butterfly beating within thin skin. His fingers cover olive green veins, perfectly neutral, perfectly beautiful. He’s seen them many times before.
“Don’t you care about me? We’ve barely hung out since that basketball game, and you know I’ll just go home to rot in bed otherwise,” he protests. It’s definitely manipulative but it works because they find themselves seated in a booth minutes later. Crispy chicken, tangy dipping sauce, deep green soju bottles that definitely should not have been introduced. Baku’s definitely drunk. He washes down the alcohol with another sip of crisp sweetness. Neutral hints of apple and something floral creep into the taste buds of his throat and he feels his adams apple bob as he swallows. The shot glass, beading with condensate under his fingertips, clinks onto the table gently. Gotak looks slightly on edge, swallowing down his third shot, looking as if he’d like to chastise Baku for going so overboard on the soju.
Fuck, I’ll give him something to be scared about, he drunkenly muses. Without thinking, he leans forward, the booth’s cushion creaking as he moves, grasps Gotak’s chin to force his face upward, and kisses, tasting sweet soju. How can time move so slowly as he moves so quickly? Baku feels his brain hesitate, send a warning signal to the rest of his body, but his muscles won’t cooperate and so he collides with Gotak’s lips. He doesn’t remember what happens afterwards, can’t even picture Gotak’s-no doubt- shock and disgust, because he promptly blacks out, causing dishes to clatter off the table as an alarmed Gotak yelps, snapping out of his alcohol-induced torpor.
—-----
Baku, you idiot. Fool!
Shame washes over him in waves. First, he’s lying in his own bed, comfortably tucked in. Guilty. Second, Gotak is on the floor on a futon, and his neck is probably in a crick. Guiltier! Finally, he’s not too sure what happened after that kiss yesterday, but the fact that it happened in and of itself… Guiltiest! The best course of action would be to leave the country and become a new man, but of course that’s unthinkable because Gotak is here, and he doesn’t think he could survive that. Burying his red face in his hands, he muffles a scream. Because Gotak is having his long deserved beauty sleep, emphasis on beauty and not so much on sleep as he stirs and blinks.
“Baku? Why are you up? Its,” he checks his phone haphazardly, “4 in the morning,” Groaning, Gotak frowns up at Baku, illuminated by the glow of his screen. “And my neck hurts like hell,” he adds. Baku winces guiltily. Curse Gotak’s too-good heart for always putting Baku’s needs first, he thinks.
“I’m so sorry.” Pitifully looks down at the bedcovers. “Forgive me, Gogo,” he whimpers, getting down to kneel on the thin futon. Maybe it’s because of the time, how he knows they’re the only two awake at this hour in the house, maybe the whole neighborhood, or because of Gotak’s cute, sleepy appearance(tousled hair sticks up at odd angles and his blurry eyes are unfocused in Baku’s general area), but heat pools at his insides sinfully, making him forget why he was ashamed in the first place and replacing all the embarrassed flush with a different kind of heat.
“Huh? It’s not that big a deal, the pain will go away soon,”
“No, not that-” he gulps. Gotak’s eyes widen in recognition, and he opens his mouth.
“I-”
Baku needs to taste him, morning breath be damned, needs to consume him whole, if only Gotak would let him.
“I’m sorry for kissing you,” Baku spits out, ashamed. Gotak’s breath hitches.
“And I’m sorry I want more.” He’s leaning over Gotak’s form now, knows what type of situation he’s forcing Gotak into.
There’s a pause.
He expects a slap to the face, a pitying, heartbreaking glance, something-
Anything but Gotak, shutting him up with his lips, his plush, catlike lips. Closing his stinging eyes, shutting out the endless questions he’d like to ask, he presses in, deepening the kiss. His tongue slips past Gotak’s open mouth furiously and the two fall together, Gotak’s back hitting the futon with an annoyed, “Mmh!” that Baku inhales eagerly. A string of spit connects their lips when they part for a second, then it’s back to the heat of unanswered questions and underlying passion kept in for much too long. When the sun finally rises, neither look like they’ve gotten a good night’s sleep.
—-----
“Say ahh,” Baku holds up a spoonful of rice and meat, delivering it to Gotak, who chews with a glare as he watches his phone. The bustling conversation around them stops. Sieun and Juntae pause, eyes wide as dinner plates. A shit eating grin forms on Juntae’s face(something nobody expected to see, ever). Sieun’s eyes flick from a nonchalantly disinterested Gotak to a grinning Baku, face resting on his hands as he gazes reverently. But no, not disinterested- he looks carefully and notices Gotak’s reddening face, small pout making itself known.
“So,” Juntae begins. Gotak looks up from his phone suspiciously, still chewing. “When were you two going to tell us?”
“Hm?” Baku sighs. He’s completely transfixed. Sieun thinks he’s going to get whiplash; where did the moody and depressed Baku from just a few weeks ago disappear to? In fact, since when does Baku sigh longingly?
“That you guys are dating!” Juntae is way too excited. Is he… shaking? The coffee in his hand is dangerous. Sieun will tell him to lay off on the coffee next time. That elevated blood pressure can’t be healthy.
“D-dating?” Gotak splutters, “ABSOLUTELY no-” He’s cut off as Baku shoves another spoonful in his mouth. “Mmhg!” Baku doesn’t respond either. He may not have even heard them, which is fine, Sieun figures. It’ll all come out in due time. For now, they’ll leave him to pine. He smiles, just the tiniest amount, then turns back to his phone, half listening to Juntae interrogate a flustered Gotak. He relays the messages to Suho.
All in due time.
—-----
Everything is so green. Summer is finally blossoming and for the first time, Baku appreciates all the life that flourishes. He runs towards Gotak, just having dropped off flowers for Baekjin. Purple hyacinths for new beginnings.
Green eyes meet his own, illuminated by the blinding sun, and crinkle into a smile.
“Done?”
“Mhm,”
It’s the last time he’ll ever bring flowers to Baekjin’s grave, and time for his first date with Gotak.