Work Text:
"You're being unreasonable. I'm leaving."
"Fine!"
"Fine."
Baekjin took a deep breath, picked up his bag and closed the door behind himself with a soft click. Melodramatics could rest safely with Humin today, and he had to catch a bus to not get late to his final gross anatomy lab before the midterms. He'd never been late to anything in his life, and a fight would be a poor reason to make the first, even if it was a big one.
Even if the tangle of muscles, blood vessels, and nerves powered by electric impulses in his chest stuttered and faltered and ached.
It's always been like that—the smallest flash, even in as controlled an environment as he could manage to make his life, caused a violent reaction of rapid oxidation, sending the sparks flying in all directions. And no protection gear, no lab coat and goggles could save him from it. As much as Baekjin prided himself on being a reasonable person, some things just made his blood boil as if he were getting locked in a vacuum chamber. And the key was always in Humin's hands.
The rest of the day wasn't going any better.
The cadaver on the dissection table in the middle of a cold tiled room belonged to a sixty-four-year-old man. A father of two, alcoholic hepatitis, exocrine pancreatic insufficiency, colon cancer. The list went on and on, but Baekjin stopped following. Wasn't Park Jincheol also sixty-four?..
Baekjin had never once felt uncomfortable during the anatomy labs. Not once. But now the chill air of the refrigerated room was permeating his skin like water through rice paper. He should've worn a sweater instead of a day-old shirt, which was the closest thing in reach when he was dressing in a hurry. He would've worn a sweater if he weren't trying to leave the apartment and the conversation as fast as he could.
The professor kept listing the ailments plaguing the old man who donated his body to science, and Baekjin kept studying a waxy mask of a face, picturing another man in his place.
He scored poorly on the final assessment, and now he'd have to study extra hard before the exam to keep his end-of-year score high. He thought about pulling another week of all-nighters.
Of Humin, bringing him cups of terrible sludge of a coffee to keep him awake and kissing the top of his head before going to bed alone, trying to fall asleep with Baekjin's laptop buzzing and the reading light on in the dead of night. Of his soft snoring when he'd finally doze off only to wake up before Baekjin would to go for a jog and bring him fresh pastries from the bakery down the block, even though Baekjin kept telling him this diet would get both of them atherosclerosis by the age of forty.
Of how Humin was never irate with him or complaining about anything that would drive others insane, like the color-coded toiletry drawers, or labels on the kitchen cabinets, or the particular order in which he insisted they make the bed, or turning the lights off in a specific sequence that kept Baekjin feeling safe, or the weekly cleaning that left the whole place smelling of chlorine, or the only shelf where he was allowed to put his basketball in the whole apartment, or Baekjin’s noisy old laptop, unless Baekjin gave him a good reason for it.
He took a long breath before counting the steps up to their floor. And stopped as soon as he reached the door. There was an apple sitting on the doormat, red and shiny, and very obviously carefully placed, not just dropped by some unattentive neighbour. He picked it up and opened the door.
"Are we warding off evil spiri—" The question died on Baekjin's lips as soon as he took off his shoes, crossed the tiny entryway, and the view of the rest of their apartment opened in front of him.
There were apples scattered everywhere—on the shabby but thoroughly-cleaned kitchen counters and the rickety dining table, the saggy couch, and even his own tiny crammed desk, notched between their bed and the dresser. One was taped to the fridge handle so that it couldn't be opened. When he went to wash his hands, he saw another one on the mirror shelf and had to stifle the urge to grit his teeth.
"What's all this about?" Baekjin wondered as calmly as he could, walking back into the room.
"You know what they say about apples and doctors," not looking up from his phone said Baku, lying on his side of the bed.
Baekjin could feel his frontalis muscle tense and twitch, raising an eyebrow.
"Not a doctor yet, technically."
"Didn't you swear to do no harm during your matriculation ceremony?" Humin asked nonchalantly, but kept pretending to scroll on the phone.
Baekjin held his tongue from remarking that Humin's memory was failing him, and he did not, in fact, say anything like that during his white coat ceremony. But he knew there was a double bottom to it, so instead, he agreed. "I did."
"So, technically, it counts."
He also wanted to say that, technically, he didn't initiate this whole fight. That he was simply busy, and exhausted, and lived off of burnt coffee for months, and had too many things on his mind, and the last thing he cared about was his shitty father's birthday and taking three whole days off their vacation to visit him.
But then he noticed the duvet dividing their halves of the bed. He did give him a solid reason this time.
Baekjin approached and sat down at Humin’s side.
To stop the reaction of oxidation, one had to eliminate access to oxygen. He took Humin’s warm hand in his, locking the airtight doors.
"I'm sorry,” he said quietly. "I'm sorry for causing harm, for being an asshole again. Yes, we can go visit your father if it's important to you."
Humin, still looking like a duckling in a chilly wind, angled his head just a smidge to look up at Baekjin.
"If it's important to me?" he squinted.
"Because. Because it's important to you."
"But not to you," he shook his head, but didn’t take his hand away.
"Humin... You know I'll never be able to forgive him for the way he treated you all these years." For all the things he loved Humin, he also hated his father. That would never change, no matter how much time would pass.
Humin frowned, but moved a little bit closer. "I've forgiven him. He's... he's Dad."
Baekjin nodded, caressing the calloused inner side of his palm, and further up, to his wrist, where the median antebrachial vein was just beneath the skin. "I know. And it doesn’t matter what I think, because if it’s important to you, it’s important to me. Regardless of how I feel about him. And that's why I'm saying that I'm okay with taking the trip,” he paused for a moment, collecting his strength. “Do you… still want to keep me away?"
"Come here," Baku sighed and withdrew his hand, only to wrap him in his arms wholly. The warmth and the calming, familiar smell of his skin enclosed Baekjin, letting him finally breathe in full since he left in the morning. "I'm sorry too. I know you don't like to share, even for three days."
"Indeed, I don't,” Baekjin agreed, pushing him down on the bed again, and letting a kiss speak louder than words. Feeling Baku's tangle of muscles, blood vessels, and nerves, powered by electric impulses, pick up the pace against his body.
When they finally broke apart for air, Baku murmured, "How about I compensate and we spend the other three days in the hotel room and put up one of those 'Do not disturb' signs? Always wanted to do that," his fingers snuck under the hem of Baekjin’s shirt, caressing his abdomen. Baekjin was losing his tether to reality fast when Baku’s hands were on his body, so he had to try his best to remember their plans.
"What about all the sights you wanted to visit?"
“Fuck the sights. If we can just finally have sex for longer than five minutes and sleep more than five hours, I’m taking it.” A kiss landed on Baekjin’s neck right above the carotid artery, while the warm hands kept gliding up his torso, slowly but surely setting him ablaze. A different kind of chemical reaction, driven purely by neuromediators. He couldn’t help the tremble taking over him, his nervous system working overtime, rendering all reason useless. The question became of secondary importance.
“Sounds like a deal.” He knew he’d agree to anything Baku asked for in this moment.
Half an hour later, the border blanket successfully demolished and pushed onto the floor, Baku’s arm still strong and steady around Baekjin’s waist, Baku wondered, “What made you change your mind?”
Baekjin contemplated, brushing a damp lock of hair from his eyes. “A cadaver.”
A burst of laughter mixed with a sigh followed. “I'm too tired to get mad again, so I'll pretend I didn't hear that.”
“Understandable,” Baekjin nodded, trying to keep a serious expression. It was hard to do while his brain was still riding an oxytocin high.
“So who's unreasonable now?” Baku arched an eyebrow, a playful smile glinting with unmistakable adoration.
Baekjin shifted in his arms, moving up. “Not you, Min-ah,” he kissed it off his lips, wanting to keep it as a most cherished possession, just as any other he gave him.
When they finally managed to leave the bed and gather all the apples around the apartment into a sizable carton box, Baekjin couldn’t help but ask. "How much did you spend on the apples?" Out of season, he didn't add.
"Enough to make you mad," that didn't sound like a question, but an apparent 'Did I succeed?' shone through. Baekjin smiled.
"And what are we gonna do with them now? We don’t have a juicer or an oven, so no point in keeping them."
"I don't know, take them to your lab and slice them open to study," Baku shrugged.
"We already know everything there is about apples. How about...” Baekjin knew the idea was mediocre at best, but he liked it. “…We take them to your dad? We can get him one of those home-brewing kits so he can make cider out of them, let the old man have a new hobby."
Baku’s face lit up. "I love you, you know that?"
"Yeah. I do.”