Chapter Text
"Wow, you lost badly, huh?" Seongje's voice comes through the blaring throbbing inside Baekjin's head, entertained and mocking. He doesn't turn his head to grant the question with a response, instead staring at the ceiling from the sofa he laid on. Of course, Seonje had let himself in with the spare key Baekjin had once gave it to him in the hopes of Seongje never getting to use it. God forbid, the day had come. And the worst part was that the day was when Baekjin was severely unwell. Or, more accurately, injured.
Baekjin glanced sideways once the boy's figure appeared behind the coffee table, his hands positioned in his pockets as he stared down at Baekjin. Baekjin stayed silent. He thought about the fight again. About Humin. His friend. The plan—however cracked and pathetic that it was—coming to rescue them in the end. Succeeding, shockingly. He shuffled on the couch to lay on his side, facing the back of the couch, a silent invitation for Seongje to leave him alone. He didn't need him to rub salt on his wounds, or worse, let him get under his skin. His head was already fuzzy, and he couldn't tell if he was overwhelmed with feelings or if he didn't feel anything at all.
Seongje was unbothered by his movement, though, it seemed. Because he heard him sit down on the opposite cushioned chair and yawn. "You know, I was contemplating if I should really come here. But then I decided, yeah, I should. See how bad you're rotting. Pretty bad." He hummed, and even without turning to his head, Baekjin could see him nodding in that fake thoughtful way he often did. "What? Not gonna talk to me?" He scoffed and then stood up, strolling to stand beside Baekjin's turned away back. He leaned over curiously and caught the glare Baekjin was giving him, a gummy grin already making way on his lips.
"What do you want?" Baekjin gritted out. It hurt to speak, hurt to even clench his jaw. It must be fun for Seongje to see him like this, weak and pitiful. Of course it would be, why wouldn't it? After that night Seongje got in to a fight with Sieun, they hadn't spoke once. Ignored calls and hateful glances. And now, the first time they see each other again, the leader of the Union was beaten up and laughably pathetic. Like a dog who thought he could become a tiger.
Seongje didn't respond, staring at his face with squinted eyes. His finger came up to poke at Baekjin's left swollen eye, and Baekjin hissed, his hand flying automatically to punch Seongje's chin. The motion was awkward. It made ribs hurt and his fingers writhe in pain, but it got the job done. Seongje grunted and leaped back with his hand attached to his jaw as Baekjin sat up. "Fuck. Still got fight in you after all that?" He said, walking to the kitchen.
Baekjin watched him with an unamused gaze while Seongje got out an ice pack and held it under his chin with one hand, returning to the living room with a smirk. Why he was here, Baekjin still didn't have an answer to. And he resisted the urge to stand up and shove him out of his apartment, but it all hurt too much to do. The sitting, the lying down, the eating. He hadn't ate a meal in two days, finding an apple to munch on. Sour and already on its way to rotting, but it had gotten his stomach quiet, so he had considered it a success. But now, his throat parched, and the hollow inside his stomach threatened to start carving him from inside out again.
"Leave." Baekjin ordered, his voice a dry whisper, all of the power it used to carry gone, leaving behind a tone of desperation and helpless. He hated everything about the situation he was faced with in the present, but most of all, he hated how much it broke his will to get up again. To not give up. But it was as if the universe was doing everything in its power to keep him there, seated on his couch, like a fucking stone. And the one prominent way he was being kept there was by being in Seongje's presence. He didn't want to show any weakness. Couldn't, if Seongje still considered him to be their leader. His leader. He wasn't sure that was the case anymore. Not after the fight, and how he ended up losing miserably. Miserable, it wasn't a word he'd use to describe himself. But it was the only word that he could use in the present to express what he felt. He wasn't about to get up on his feet wobbly, barely able to hold himself, while Seongje watched him in twisted glee, enjoying every moment of pain that shot through his legs.
Seongje looked at him with an eyebrow raised, tilting his head to the side. He placed the ice pack on the coffee table and leaned down until his face was in front of Baekjin's. Baekjin held his gaze silently. "You sure? Don't want help with standing up or anything?" Seongje asks, a gleam in his eyes that told Baekjin his intentions were the opposite of kindness, tone thinly veined. The bastard.
The next punch Baekjin tries to throw is blocked by Seongje's warm hand covering his cold fist, pulling it away from his fist with a chuckle. "So predictable." Seongje murmurs. And at that moment, Baekjin's stomach decides to growl with hunger, and he tenses, his fist moving to rest by his side again. He looks away and takes grasp of the couch rest to get up on his feet. He has to eat if he wants any chance of living, although death seemed more appealing due to a particular someone's presence. Seongje moves to the left, watching him get up. When Baekjin's knees quiver with weakness, Seongje's hand shoots out to grasp his arm to steady him despite himself. Baekjin is clearly annoyed judging by his expression, but doesn't say anything. Doesn't do anything. He lets Seongje's hand steady him and then trudges forward on his own, Seongje's hand falling off naturally. He hears a snort. "Ungrateful as always. What are you going to eat, mhmm? If you ask nicely, I'll get us some ramen." He says teasingly.
"Fuck off."
"Asshole. Fucking fine. Rot away." Seongje spits. Baekjin hears the slam of the front door behind him and sighs.
Finally, some very needed quiet.
He looks in the cabinets and finds the last bowl of chicken ramen. His hands shake as he boils some water and pours it into the cup, placing the jug with a loud thud once he's done. He grips the counter edge as his knees start shaking and takes a few deep breaths.
The steam rises from the cup as he sits down on the couch again and leans back. When the noodles are ready, he picks up the chopsticks. It takes more than a few tries to have them in his grip, but he manages to keep them from falling down and takes a first bite, sighing in satisfaction.
Baekjin rarely called food outright 'pleasurable', but it was different this time. The ramen was more than pleasurable, it was divine. A comfort amidst the chaos. He finished it all in less than ten minutes and still felt hungry. In the end, he decided a bottle of water was enough to fill in that last bit of hunger.
All he wanted to do these days was sleep. However, sleep rarely came easy. Even when he wasn't so brutally wounded, sleep still proved to be a problem. More nights than he could count, he woke up with cold sweat on his forehead, disturbing nightmares of his childhood, Humin, tossing and turning all night thinking if he could've done something different and still have his ex best friend by his side. Anger, regret, guilt, frustration. Repeat. Mix that with the ever so striking pain. Pain wasn't ever a problem for Baekjin. It was always just there after Humin wasn't there anymore, but the physical pain was another story. It prevented him from doing things he normally could without feeling like he needed to be dragged up and around by another person. So helplessly weak and shameful. Embarrassing, especially if the person he could think of who would help him was Seongje. No, he would never ask him for help. He'd rather kill himself.
The next morning, however, another problem rose. Baekjin had manages to get himself clean the first day by giving himself a somewhat of a sponge bath. He'd done the same yesterday as well, but today, he felt more dirty than when he hadn't taken those sponge baths. He refused to go to a hospital. They would keep him there for an unnecessarily long time and pester him all day with questions of his wellness. He wanted to be left alone.
Baekjin managed to get himself out of the bed slowly, supported by the walls and to the bathroom. He even managed to brush his teeth—if taking toothpaste on to your finger and moving it back and forth in a depressing manner counts for anything. The main issue was taking his top off his upper body and over his head. His ribs wailed in pain whenever he reached the point of sliding it over his shoulders, blood rushing to his head, making him feel dizzy. He stumbled, arm dropping as he leaned against the counter, clenching his jaw. Every single fucking bone hurt in his body. And he wondered if killing himself and getting over it would be easier. Baekjin heard footsteps before the person opened the bathroom door, letting themself in without permission. Only one person he knew would do that. Seongje. He glared at the boy from the mirror, Seongje's signature taunting smirk in place.
"Need help, leader?" He asked, eyebrows frowned in faux concern, head cocked to the side. Baekjin didn't say anything. He ignored him and tried to raise the shirt past his shoulders without his hand immediately giving out. Pain shot through his side, and he sharply inhaled, arm coming down to clutch the edge once again. Seongje's eyes flickered with something, his expression sobering slightly. His hands lifted and landed on the shirt that was rolled up to Baekjin's upper back. Baekjin's body tensed in a split second, head soaring up to look at Seongje in the mirror. "Up." Seongje said, tugging the shirt with his hands. Baekjin pushed him to the wall with all the strength that he could muster, which was close to none, but it got Seongje's hands off of him. Seongje snorted, shaking his head.
Baekjin should fight harder. Say something more than just the stubborn silence that he refused to break between them. He didn't give up though, he tried to raise the shirt and got it off one of his shoulders, grunting.
"Very impressive." Seongje clapped behind him, sounding bored. Why he still stood there watching Baekjin try and fail was a mystery to the stoic boy.
Getting the shirt off of one of his shoulders was all Baekjin's body could handle, it seemed, because his arm no longer could even lift slightly, fingers shaking with a concerning intensity. Seongje took (surprising) silent pity on him and helped get the shirt fully off. He left once Baekjin was in the bathtub. Baekjin sighed and closed his eyes, tilting his head back against the cool wall. He could already feel the long, grueling day ahead.
Seongje comes back to "check" on him after half an hour passes him without him getting out of the bathroom, probably to make sure Baekjin didn't die in the fucking bathtub. Now, that would be a story to tell. He leans in through the open door, eyeing Baekjin, whose eyes are closed. "Only you'd fall asleep in a bathtub." He snickered. Baekjin's eyes opened, and he could feel another headache coming already. He sighed, embracing the wall to get himself up. Seongje watched him, took his towel and offered it to him. Baekjin glanced down at it, at Seongje, then back down at the stretched arm. His hand rose to receive it, but the towel retreated. "Say 'please' first." Seongje smiled with his eyes.
Baekjin just stared at him. Seongje waited a beat. Another. He dropped the towel on the ground.
This must be hell, Baekjin thought.
After he got dressed in to some pajamas, he made his way to the kitchen, only to see Seongje leaning against the counter, scrolling on his phone while he ate from a ramen bowl, kimchi on the side. He didn't look up when Baekjin walked past him to see if he could find something in the fridge. "Your share's on the dining table." Seongje said. Baekjin glanced out at the kitchen at the dining table and indeed there was a takeout bag perched in the center. His stomach growled. It was almost afternoon, but Baekjin knew if circumstances were different, he'd never be having ramen for lunch. He liked to keep his diet predominantly healthy. This was an unusual he had to get used to. He sat down at the table and picked up the chopsticks, slightly better grip than yesterday, proven by the medication he took just after he woke up, because he didn't know if he'd find anything to eat later and take the pills then.
Seongje brings his own food to the table and takes a seat across Baekjin. Baekjin almost wanted to say it felt like the 'old times' if he weren't so repulsed by such cliches. He wanted to thank the other boy, but then again, Baekjin didn't tell him to do all this. He was doing it out of his own will. Seongje finished eating and crossed his arms, eyeing Baekjin while he ate a bit more slowly. "Mr. Choi came at the alley today."
Baekjin's shoulders tensed, swallowing his current bite. He looked at Seongje and waited for him to continue. Seongje leaned forward with his arms crossed, placing them on the table between them. "Asked me to take your place. Become the union leader." Of course he did. The man had never seen him as enough. 'Not even at taking beatings' Mr. Choi had said after his men had beat Baekjin up, his body lying limp on the floor, cold and utterly useless. And now that Baekjin was no longer in good shape—to no fault of his own—Mr. Choi had to find a replacement.
He didn't want to ask if Seongje accepted the proposal, knowing he must have. "Congratulations." He said dryly, his expression trained to be expressionless, despite feeling bitter fury and disappointment inside. He took a last bite of his ramen before pushing it aside.
Seongje laughed, humorlessly, clicking his tongue. "You think I took it? You fucker, I've been nothing but loyal to you for years." There was a hint of that same hurt in there from the night a few days ago. And it made Baekjin look at him, really look at him. Not a glare, but a normal look. He knew Seongje was loyal. The most loyal of anyone in the union. He knew that, but he didn't expect him to deny the offer, considering the fact that Seongje was angry with him for the past few days for what happened. For not caring about his right-hand boy. And he'd be fair to be upset and take the offer, he'd have expected such an outcome. What he didn't expect, though, was this. This relentless loyalty that made him feel a pang in his chest, not the hurtful kind, the kind that warmed its way inside his heart, made a home, stayed there to defeat his denial.
Baekjin wasn't sure how to respond. He was, for once in his lifetime, speechless out of unwillingness. A rare occurrence. He willed his eyes to return to the same cold distant stare it held, not before Songje noticed the slight softening. Seongje's own eyes softened a little in response, eyebrows rising silently in surprise. "Why?" Baekjin asked, because he didn't know what else to say. And because somewhere deep down, he wanted to know.
Seongje thought about it for a long minute. Why not take the position? Why not get back at Baekjin and tell him to go fuck himself? Why not have the other gangs under him and be the one to order them around?
He smirked, pushing the unsaid feelings down. "Because I didn't wanna. Why else?" He shifted. It wasn't because he still considered Baekjin as his leader. No. Even he himself wasn't sure why he didn't accept the offer, but what he did know was that he wasn't so vain as to take advantage of Baekjin's situation. When he was at his weakest. If Seongje really wanted the position, he'd fight him fair and square to get it.
Baekjin understood the words unspoken though, regardless of what Seongje said. Seongje wasn't someone who'd come at you at your weakest, that's not his style. His ego was too big for that. He'd want to take pride in knowing that he beat the union leader when he wasn't so broken.
He got up on his feet and took the containers with him to throw them away. When he came back, Seongje was gone from the table and on the sofa, sprawled out, like he was the one in need of rest and not Baekjin. "Get up." Baekjin said, even though he could just go to his bedroom and lock himself inside and not have to deal with Seongje anymore. He decided to indulge him. After all, staying at home all day bored him.
Seongje grinned up at him lazily. "No." He made himself more comfortable. Baekjin caught a peek of his collarbone as his hoodie shifted, pale and a tiny mole on the side.
Baekjin exhaled through his nose. "This is my house. Act like a guest."
"You can sit on my lap if you want, but I'm not getting up."
"Tempting." Baekjin mustered all sarcasm into the word, taking a seat across him in the armchair.
Seongje only seemed more entertained by the response. Baekjin rolled his eyes. His eyes got heavy as he watched Seongje take out a cigarette and pop it between his lips, looking around for his lighter and then lighting it. "Don't smoke in my apartment." He mumbles, but he's not sure if he's said it out loud. Or if it was even loud enough for Seongje to hear him. Nevertheless, sleep closed in on him.
