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The car reeked of stale coffee from a convenience store, mixed with the smell of cheap cologne and the annoying, unbearable presence of Seongje, which was getting on my nerves more and more by the minute.
Baekjin's eyes were fixed on the road, his jaw clenched so hard it hurt his teeth. He had a tight grip on the steering wheel, grounding him. In the backseat, Seongje had managed to stretch out his lanky body, one leg hooked over the headrest and the other pressed against the window. He was kicking a steady beat against the door, a rhythmic thump that was probably driving Baekjin crazy. The sound was constant, like a drumbeat, and Baekjin’s fingers were wrapped around the wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. He was trying to focus on the road, but he could feel his nerves fraying, the threads of a rope pulled too tight. Seongje, on the other hand, seemed completely relaxed, his long frame sprawled out like he was lounging on a couch. His kicking was hypnotic, a steady beat that was starting to get under Baekjin’s skin more and more by the second.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
“I’m boredddd...”
Baekjin said nothing.
“Baekjin. Baekjinnie. Hyung. Are you ignoring me?”
“Yes.”
Seongje’s voice was barely above a whisper, but it sent a shiver down Baekjin’s spine as he spoke directly into his ear. “You’re not ignoring me if you’re responding, though,” he said, his words low and husky. Baekjin jumped, startled, as Seongje’s warm breath danced across his skin. The kicking had stopped, but now Seongje was leaning in close, his face inches from Baekjin’s. “If you were really ignoring me, you wouldn't even bother saying anything,” he pointed out.
Baekjin’s grip tightened. He could feel Seongje’s breath on his neck, warm and deliberately close. This was a game for Seongje. It was always a game, one where the rules changed every two minutes and the only way to win was not to react at all.
“Hey, Na Baekjin, what’s up? You just gonna pretend like I'm not here?”
“Seongje.”
“Hmph.”
“Sit back.”
“Make me.”
Baekjin’s jaw was clenched up tight, a muscle in his temple twitching like crazy. He was frustrated, and it had been building up all morning. First, he got a flat tire, which messed up his whole schedule. Then he had to deal with Mr. Choi, who just wouldn't stop talking — it was like he enjoyed hearing himself ramble on and on. And if that wasn't enough, some young punk tried to scam him, and then acted all hurt when Baekjin didn’t fall for it. The whole day had been a nightmare, leaving him feeling angry and annoyed, with a low grade burn of frustration still simmering just below the surface. He was fed up, and it showed. His day had been a series of annoying events, each one piling on top of the last, and he was still fuming about it. The memory of that kid’s smug face earlier was still etched in his mind, making his blood boil all over again. Baekjin took a deep breath, trying to calm down, but it wasn’t easy — he was still seething, and it would take a while to shake off the irritation that had been building up all day. And Seongje’s making it ten times worse.
Seongje tagged along, saying he was bored and had nothing better to do. But it turned out, he thought this was an invitation to invade Baekjin's personal space, and to treat it like a personal jungle since he was so keen on acting like a fucking orangutan — he was making himself way too comfortable.
Baekjin said in a low voice, “Sit. Back.” It was a tone that always seemed to make people pause, think twice about what they were doing, and wonder if they really wanted to keep going down that path. His voice was flat, but it carried a weight that could make anyone stop and rethink their decisions.
Seongje, unfortunately, had never been like most people.
He flopped back against the seat with an exaggerated sigh, but only after dragging his fingers along the back of Baekjin’s neck as he went. A casual touch.
Seongje pointed out, “You seem really tense.” No shit, Sherlock!!! It was pretty rich coming from him, considering he was the one who’d been stressing the other boy out. “When was the last time you got a good night’s sleep?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “I sleep great, by the way, naked, in case people wanna kiss my ass. No conscience keeping me up, yknow?” Seongje grinned, infuriatingly. Baekjin couldn’t see it, but he could sense it with the gleeful tone in Seongje’s voice.
“I sleep fine.”
“You’re out cold when you sleep, but that's not what I’m talking about.”
Baekjin inhaled for four seconds, held it for four seconds, released it for four seconds, and held it again for four seconds.
“Come on, can’t you just put on some music or something?” Seongje said, his feet kicking against the floor again. “Wait, put on my music. Please. Pretty please.” For the record, Seongje’s SoundCloud music has always been ass. It’s impossible to listen to.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
“Or talk to me, I dunno, about anything. We’re supposed to be together, you’re my boyfriend, it’s what you’re supposed to do. Isn’t that what it means to be in a relationship?" He sounded frustrated, and a little hurt, as he reminded him, “It’s not like I’m asking for much, just some conversation would be nice.”
“There’s no contract.”
“Emotional contract. Verbal. I’m pretty sure you signed it in your heart.”
“My heart didn’t sign anything.”
Seongje stopped talking for a moment. “I saw your heart sign its name,” he said, with a grin. “It was like a little official signature, made with love.” He thought this was hilarious and wanted me to laugh too. “You should find it funny,” he added, trying to make Baekjin smile. “…Sorry. Got that one off of someone’s FaceBook.”
Baekjin’s eye twitched.
Seongje was a dude who could be really quiet and still, like a cat just sleeping, or he could be a total ball of energy, making a lot of noise and moving around a lot with his little zoomies. Today was one of those energetic days. He was poking and teasing at Baekjin, not because he was really upset, but because he was bored and Baekjin’s calm demeanor was the most interesting thing to mess with. Baekjin always tried to stay calm and composed, but Seongje loved to test him, to see how far he could push him before he reacted. It was like Seongje thought Baekjin’s calmness was a challenge, a video game, something to be broken, and he was determined to be the one to do it. On days like this, Seongje would jab at Baekjin with his words and his actions, just to get a rise out of him, just to see him react. And Baekjin, well, he just tried to roll with it, to keep his cool, no matter what. But it wasn’t always easy, especially on days like today, when Seongje was being particularly pesky. Like a fruit fly. Seongje’s fruity as hell after all. Makes sense.
It was, Baekjin had to admit, a little impressive. Most people took one look at his face and decided silence was the safer option. Seongje didn’t, because he isn’t like most people.
Not today, though. Today, the composure was held together with fraying thread, and Seongje was gleefully snipping at it.
“Yah, when are we getting home?” Seongje asked, giving Baekjin’s seat a pretty good kick. “We gonna stop for some food? I’m starving. I could totally devour a whole chicken right about now. You know, I once ate a whole chicken by myself — wasn’t pretty. I threw up afterwards, but it was kinda worth it. Baekjin. Na Baekjin, are you even fucking listening to me?”
Baekjin’s hands were white-knuckled on the wheel.
Seongje’s voice was really thoughtful, you know, like when someone's about to say something that's gonna bug you. “I think you're ignoring me on purpose,” he said.
“You’re doing that thing where you act like I'm not even here, and I know you’re hoping that I’ll get bored and shut up. But it’s not gonna work, okay? It’s not gonna fucking work. Why? Because I’ve got a lot to talk about, and I’m just getting started. I haven’t even told you about this crazy dream I had last night, and guess what? You were in it. You were wearing this…whew..” Seongje paused, smirking.
Baekjin took the next turn really sharply, which made Seongje slide all the way across the backseat. His shoulder bumped into the door on the other side with a soft thud.
“Hey!”
“Put your seatbelt on.”
“You put your seatbelt on.”
“I’m driving.”
“So? You could crash too. Have you considered that? You could crash and then I’d be fine because I’m at the back, and you’d go through the fucking windshield because you’re too stubborn to buckle up. Then who’s gonna drive? Huh?”
Baekjin’s grip tightened on the steering wheel to the point of pain. He could feel words building in his chest, wanting to yell at Seongje so fucking bad, words that wanted to come out sharp and angry — Shut up. Just shut up for five fucking minutes. I can’t hear myself even think. But Baekjin swallowed the words, not letting himself snap. Because if he snapped, that means Seongje would win. And he’d rather die than let Seongje win. That only means that if he won, he’d know exactly what buttons to press next time.
Instead, Baekjin just went quieter. Like he always does.
The silence in the car was thick and uncomfortable now. But Seongje, usually so full of energy and chatter, suddenly stopped kicking and talking. He’d now sensed that something was off. The silence was sudden and complete, like a switch had been flipped, and it was a bit of a relief.
For three glorious seconds, there was nothing but the hum of the tires on asphalt.
Then, out of nowhere, Seongje's hand popped up over the center console.
Seongje put his cold fingers on the side of Baekjin’s neck, his jaw, and his ear. Baekjin tried to brush him away, but Seongje was too fast. “Your ears are really fucking cold,” Seongje said, “it’s strange, like I’m touching a block of ice or something.” He then said, “My ears are warm, wanna feel? You’d be jealous.”
Baekjin quickly turned his head to the side, but Seongje's hand kept following him, which was really annoying and seemed to be all over the place.
“Seongje.”
"Check out my ear, it’s really warm. I'm not kidding, you’d probably wish yours was as warm as mine."
“If you don’t put your hand back in your own seat—”
Seongje's voice was playful, yet laced with a hint of challenge, as he said, “You’ll what?” His words hung in the air. “Take away my phone? Ground me? Or maybe you’ll just put me in timeout?” His fingers brushed against Baekjin’s hair, weaving through the strands for a brief moment before Baekjin’s hand closed around his wrist, holding him in place.
The touch was instant. Baekjin’s hand wrapped around Seongje's wrist, not tight enough to cause pain, but strong enough to halt the motion. For a brief moment, he caught Seongje’s eyes widening in the mirror, before the playful smile slipped back onto his face.
“Ooh,” Seongje breathed. “Strong.”
Baekjin let him go, pushing his hand away towards the back of the car. “Sit back down and put your seatbelt on.”
“Make it worth my while, will ya?”
“Seongje.”
“I’m just saying. If you want me to behave, you have to give me a reason. That’s how incentives work. Basic economics.”
Baekjin’s eyes felt like they were narrowing in on nothing. The street ahead was a dark blur, with only the streetlights breaking up the darkness, casting weird shadows everywhere. They still had about twenty minutes to go before they got home. Twenty long minutes of being stuck with Seongje, whose hands and voice and just being there was really getting under his skin. The silence between them was pretty uncomfortable, and Baekjin couldn’t help but feel like he was trapped. He just wanted to get home and be alone, to get away from Seongje's presence that seemed to be suffocating him so much.
He saw the restaurant ahead. The one with the good jjajangmyeon, the one Seongje always asked for when he was pretending he didn’t care what they ate.
Baekjin’s foot moved to the brake.
He pulled into the parking lot without signaling, the tires crunching on loose gravel. The car jerked to a stop, and Seongje made a small sound of surprise as he was thrown forward, catching himself on the back of Baekjin’s seat.
Seongje’s tone changed, sounding more upbeat and eager. “Are we getting some food?” he asked, his voice filled with anticipation. He quickly added, “I’m in the mood for jjajangmyeon and tangsuyuk — dipping sauce one, not the other kind.” But before he could finish, his excitement was interrupted by a question, “Why are you getting out first?”
Baekjin turned off the engine and the keys jingled out of the ignition. He pushed his door open and a rush of cool evening air filled the car, a welcome change from the stifling heat that had built up inside. The damp, cool air was refreshing, and it was a relief to finally be out of the silent, enclosed space without a Seongje running his mouth all the time.
As he stepped out, he didn't even glance back at Seongje, simply closing the door behind him and beginning his walk towards the restaurant.
Behind him, a door handle clicked.
Then another click. Harder.
“Hyung.”
Baekjin kept walking.
“Hey, the door is locked,” he said, followed by a brief pause. “Baekjin. Baekjin-ah.” he called out, his voice a little louder now.
Baekjin came to a stop right at the entrance of the restaurant, and then he finally turned around to look.
Seongje’s face was inches away from the back window, a look of shock etched on his face. His hands were splayed out against the door, trying to push it open, but when it wouldn't budge, he put his hands on the window to stare at Baekjin with these puppy eyes that completely caught Baekjin off guard.
Seongje may have gone too fucking far.
Baekjin held up his hand now. Five fingers. He counted down slowly, deliberately, each finger folding in with a certain finality.
Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
Then, he turned and walked into the restaurant.
The warmth of the small restaurant wrapped around him; smelling of soy sauce and fried dough, and surrounded by the quiet hum of a few customers conversing with each other. Baekjin placed the order without looking. Jjajangmyeon, tangsuyuk, sauce on the side, and stood at the counter with his arms crossed.
Seongje had moved to the front seat now, having climbed over, somehow moving his body bonelessly over to the front. He was now staring at the restaurant like a child who’d been left in the car while his parents had gone inside.
Baekjin’s phone buzzed.
Baekjin typed back with one thumb, his face expressionless.
The reply was immediate.
Baekjin put his phone back in his pocket and watched as Seongje’s silhouette threw itself back against the seat in theatrical despair. Then, after a moment, the silhouette curled up into itself, arms wrapping around knees that were pulled up completely to his chest.
Baekjin’s jaw was still tight, his hands still curled into fists in his jacket pocket. But something in his chest loosened. Just a little. Just a tiny bit. Somewhere behind him, in a car, Seongje was learning a very important life lesson about cause and effect. Golden.
Seongje had considered sending another message. Something apologetic, something that would make Baekjin come back and ruffle his hair and kiss him on the forehead or something. The way he always did when Seongje was being a pathetic little fuck.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard.
Then he shoved his phone back into his pocket, looking out the window again. He looked at the restaurant. Baekjin was talking to the cashier now, probably paying, probably getting the food Seongje had been whining about for the past half hour even though Baekjin had to suggest stopping by at the restaurant first. And Seongje was embarrassed.
The car windows were cracked open, so he wouldn’t suffocate. The temperature outside was mild, not too hot or too cold, so he didn't have to worry about freezing his ass off. He was parked in a well lit parking lot, right in front of a busy restaurant, and he could see at least five other people inside, going about their business. By all accounts, he was perfectly safe — but somehow, he just didn’t feel it.
He was also furious.
He was actually really embarrassed about what had happened. The truth is, he had been pushing Baekjin's boundaries, and he knew it. There was this one moment, maybe the fourth time he reached over and poked Baekjin's ear, when he felt things change. The quiet wasn’t calm and patient like it usually was anymore — he’d seen that look on Baekjin before, but he just kept going anyway.
It was hilarious. Baekjin’s reactions were just so hilarious. The way his jaw twitched, his shoulders tensed up, and he said Seongje’s name like it was both a prayer and curse — it was the most attention Seongje had gotten from him in days. Well, Seongje had been trying to get a rise out of him all week, and finally, something had worked.
And now he was in timeout. Like a child. Like a fucking dog.
He pressed his forehead harder against the glass, letting the cool surface seep into his skin. Through the window, he could see Baekjin at the counter, arms crossed, face unreadable. And he wasn’t looking at the car. He was staring straight ahead, like Seongje didn’t exist to him anymore, like the last forty-five minutes of chaos hadn’t happened.
That’s the whole fucking point, a small voice in Seongje’s head whispered, He’s ignoring you because you were too overwhelming. Again.
When Baekjin returned to the car with the warm bag of food in his hand, he found Seongje already sitting at the front with the seatbelt buckled, hands tucked neatly into his lap. He stayed completely quiet when Baekjin opened the door — didn’t even reach for the bag. He just sat there, just looking at his knees. And Baekjin felt something in his chest tighten.
Baekjin didn’t like this version of Seongje. So quiet, too quiet, like a bright light being switched off, encompassing everything around it in darkness. He’d wanted Seongje to stop being annoying, not…not having him act like this…
But Baekjin just stayed quiet. He got in, and started the car.
The silence had stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. Heavier and more suffocating than Seongje just being annoying.
Baekjin pulled out of the parking lot, the sunset flickering across Seongje’s face catching the way his lips were pressed together like he put glue between them and his fingers twisting in the hem of his shirt.
“You got the one with the dipping sauce,” Seongje said. Finally. His voice was small and quiet, almost like a question.
“I always get the one with the sauce on the side.”
“I know. I just…” Seongje’s throat suddenly felt like it had a lump in it. “Thought that maybe I…didn’t deserve it.”
Baekjin’s hands tightened on the wheel. “Don’t be dramatic.”
“I’m not being dramatic—!” Seongje’s voice cracked a little, turning his face toward the window, hiding. “I was being an asshoke again. I just— I just kept..” He made a frustrated sound, shoulders hunching. “…I don’t know how to stop once I start.”
Baekjin said nothing for a long time. The road was empty, the city quiet and the sun setting around them. He could see Seongje’s reflection in the passenger window, the shape of his face, blinking too fast.
“I’m not mad.” Baekjin responded.
Seongje snorted. “You locked me in the fucking car.”
“I needed five minutes of silence and you wouldn’t give that to me.” Baekjin said, glancing over to Seongje. “That isn’t the same as being mad.”
“You grabbed my wrist.”
“You were touching my ear.”
“Your ear was fucking cold,”
“My ear was fine.”
“I was doing you a favor. It was cold.”
Something in Baekjin’s chest loosened now. There it was — the familiar rhythm, the familiar push and pull. He let a fraction of a smile tug onto his face before saying, “You were being annoying.”
“I was being an affectionate boyfriend. There’s a difference.”
“There isn’t a difference. With you.”
Seongje’s mouth opened, ready to argue, but he didn’t. Just kept his mouth shut. His eyes searched Baekjin’s face. Whatever he found made his own expression soften, the tension in his shoulders easing.
“I really am sorry. Yknow.” Seongje said, quieter. “Not just for today, I mean. For all of it. The way I am. I— I’m sorry, Baekjin-ah.”
Baekjin’s jaw tightened. He really didn’t like this version of Seongje. The apology was worse than the noise because it meant Seongje was turning the gears in his head too hard, deciding that he was too much and that he needed to be less. And Baekjin never wants Seongje to be less.
Baekjin reached over without looking, hand resting on Seongje’s thigh. Seongje went, very, very, still.
“You’re not gonna change.” Baekjin said. “I never asked you to change.”
“But I—“
“You’re loud. Annoying. You don’t know when to stop.” Baekjin’s thumb moved; just a little, back and forth on the denim. “I knew that when we started this. I always knew.”
Seongje’s breath caught. “…Why do you put up with it then?”
“I don’t need you to be quiet. Just..give me five minutes sometimes.”
“You could’ve just asked.”
“I did. You put your finger in my ear.”
Seongje’s face crumpled, but it was a laugh this time. “I didn’t do that! I touched it! There’s a difference!!!”
“There isn’t. Not with you, at least.”
The echo of Baekjin’s words made Seongje laugh a genuine laugh now, bright again, like the light switching on again. And Baekjin felt something in his chest fully unclench. His hand was still on Seongje’s thigh, and Seongje’s hand came down to cover it, fingers lacing together.
“I’ll try,” Seongje said. “To give you five minutes. Can’t promise more than that.”
“I wouldn’t believe if you did.”
“That’s fair.”
They drove in silence for a block, the good kind of silence. Baekjin’s thumb circled over Seongje’s thigh, gently, and Seongje’s fingers were warm over his.
“Can I have some tangsuyuk?” Seongje asked, eventually.
“We’re almost home.”
“I’m hungry now,”
“You can wait five minutes.”
“Oh, so now you want me to wait.”
Baekjin’s hand squeezed his thigh once, a warning. Seongje grinned, wide and unrepentant, and Baekjin thought: There he is.
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