Archive of Our Own

“Why are you here?”

The question hangs between them for a moment, then Seongje scoffs incredulously.

“Are you kidding me right now?” He mutters under his breath. “You’re the one who called me.”

“What?” Baekjin tilts his head curiously and leans toward him to hear – too far, tipping out off the couch and nearly toppling to the ground.

“Shit!” Seongje grabs him by the shoulders and hauls him back up. He can’t remember how many times he’s had to catch Baekjin in the last few hours. “Stay put. Something’s wrong with you. I don’t know what they gave you, but you can’t be moving around right now.”

“Oh…” Baekjin looks down at himself, blinking slowly, “Yeah…they did give me something…”

Seongje adjusts him to lean back on the couch, then stacks his backpack on Baekjin’s lap as if to keep him in place. He just keeps moving every time Seongje looks away.

“There. Don’t move –”

“I called you, right?” Baekjin interrupts, looking up at him. His hand wraps around Seongje’s wrist, the one still grasping his shoulder. “Thanks for coming, Seongje-ya.”

He says it softly, slightly slurred like everything else, but with an aching sincerity to it, with that affectionate name. Then, he offers a lopsided smile, like he’s genuinely happy that Seongje is here.

“I knew you would.” Baekjin adds, and leans in, supported by Seongje’s grip. His gaze slides slowly over Seongje’s face like he’s memorizing it.

Seongje stares at him with wide eyes. How long has it been since he’s seen that smile? What does he mean, 'he knew'? Has Baekjin ever spoken to him this sweetly before? Why is he coming so close? His heart beats faster in his chest at the sight of those dimples, and for a moment, he feels frozen.

Then he jerks his hand away like he’s been burned, and shoves Baekjin back against the cushions.

“Oof! Wait –”

Seongje doesn’t wait, just snatches up Baekjin’s hands and places them on the bag, pressing down firmly.

“Hold that and stay put. I need to grab my phone.”

The smile fades slowly into confusion. “Oh…okay.” Baekjin’s hands curl into fists on the bag. He opens his mouth to say something else, “When are you coming ba –”

But Seongje whips away and stalks outside his apartment, slamming the door shut behind him. He leans against the wooden frame heavily, shoulders sagging as he sighs.

Fuck. How did this happen?

He’d been at a cafe, playing League of Legends again, alone – well, with a random, shitty team. But Seongmok and Dongha hadn’t joined him, hadn’t replied to his messages since yesterday. He’d gone to their usual spot and played hoping they’d show up. They didn’t, so he went again tonight, and still no one showed.

Not that it mattered, but maybe some small part of him hoped at least someone would show up today of all days.

He was beginning to consider calling them – they’d never left him hanging like this before – when his phone lit up with Baekjin’s caller ID.

He almost hadn’t believed it. After the asshole had accused him of snitching, let him walk out on his crippled leg without so much a word, and hadn’t bothered to send a single text his way, Seongje thought they were done for good. No more Union, no more – whatever they had.

But he was calling. For what? It had been weeks since that night.

Some part of Seongje had been tempted to ignore him. Try and hurt him. Give him a taste of his own medicine. But he was calling today and some stupid part of Seongje hoped this was what he’d been waiting for. His thumb hovered over the Answer button, and he pressed down on it before the last ring finished, ignoring how pathetic he was.

He raised the phone to his ear and didn’t speak. Just waited.

“...Seongje?” Baekjin’s quiet voice came from the other end. Oddly tentative.

“What?” Seongje snapped.

“Are you...I’m…I need –” Baekjin cut himself off, then it was quiet for a moment. There was the sound of distant shouting in the background, growing louder along with footsteps, then fading away.

Seongje thought he heard Baekjin’s name in the voices. Something uneasy churned in his stomach.

“Baekjin?” He asked, the anger from earlier gone for the moment

“Can you…” Baekjin’s voice had dropped to a whisper. Seongje pressed one hand over his other ear, straining to hear him. “Can you come get me?”

Baekjin sounded…off.

“Please.” Baekjin added.

Something was definitely wrong.

“Where?”

He picked him up from a dingy alley on the outskirts of town. Baekjin had been hiding behind an AC unit, his large frame somehow folded up small enough that nothing peeked out. It took Seongje a minute to locate him, and another to help his stumbling form to the car. Then he was booking it to the bowling alley, something telling him to get out of there fast.

Baekjin barely spoke, except to try and answer Seongje’s questions. In person, Seongje could see he was out of it. He stared at Seongje like he couldn’t quite believe he was here, and kept opening and shutting his mouth, rubbing his forehead, and shaking his head like he was trying to clear it. He tried to speak, but it was like he kept losing his words midway.

Seongje settled him in their office, then called Dongha. The other picked up on the first ring.

“Is he with you?” Dongha asked immediately.

“Yes. What the fuck happened?” Seongje demanded, gripping the phone tightly.

“Choi. He took Baekjin in yesterday, saying there was some kind of meeting. We followed them and hid outside, waiting for him to get out, but his men found us and dragged us in. They questioned us. I guess they were doing the same to him.”

“What the fuck? Why?”

“I don’t know. They were asking about the police and if anyone’s been acting suspiciously, trying to get us to confess – and about you, actually. They asked us if we knew where you were.”

“Me?” Seongje repeats in surprise. “Shit. What else?”

“Just that, really. They let us go. We waited outside, but he never came out the front. Then Choi’s men started searching. How did you find him? We were looking too.”

“He – he called me.” It felt awkward to admit that, for some reason, so Seongje moved on quickly. “Did they give you anything? Like…meds or something that made you…out of it?”

“Yeah. Something in the water bottles. How’d you know?”

“I think they gave it to him too.”

It was silent for a moment, then Dongha said “I think he’ll be fine. It wore off for us in a couple hours. But they had him for so long…I don’t know.”

Seongje rubbed his forehead with a groan.

“Where are you now?” Dongha asked.

“The office.” Seongje answered slowly, thinking everything over.

“You guys should get out of there. Go somewhere Choi doesn’t know about.”

“Do you think he’ll come after Baekjin here?”

“Did anyone follow you when you got him?” Dongha asked.

“No.” Seongje had been careful to check, but no one had tailed them.

“I…I think they were done with him. They gave up looking pretty fast. But I’m not sure, and I don’t know what they want with you. Better safe than sorry.”

“Okay. Are you two okay?”

“Yeah. You?

“Yeah.”

“Me and Seongmok are going to our place. We’ll meet as soon as we can. Get somewhere safe.”

Seongje couldn’t think of anywhere to go but his own apartment. No one knew about it and it was close enough and stocked up on supplies. He went back into the office, only to find Baekjin right behind the door. He tripped backwards and fell on the ground as soon as Seongje opened it, even though Seongje tried to grab him.

Blinking up at him, Baekjin began to ask, “Where did you go –”

“Get up.”

So he dragged Baekjin here, and now…here they are.

Seongje digs his phone out of his pocket and tunes into the security cameras around the street, then texts Dongha an update. Once that’s done, he searches up Baekjin’s symptoms.

Nothing useful comes up. Baekjin doesn’t seem sick, just kind of high and weirdly talkative and…sincere.

Fine. He’ll get Baekjin through the night, and when he’s sober, that’ll be that. Baekjin can go back to chasing Baku and running things alone. Seongje can go back to not expecting anything.

He pockets his phone, shoves his hands through his hair, takes a deep breath, and goes back inside.

Baekjin is almost exactly where he left him, which is a minor miracle. He's slid to the floor and is leaning against the couch, head tipped back against it and staring up at the ceiling with the slow, blinking focus of someone trying very hard to keep himself centered. The backpack is still on his lap, his fists still loosely curled around the straps.

Seongje steps over him and heads to the kitchen.

"You're back," Baekjin says, to the ceiling.

"Obviously. I live here."

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Baekjin sit up and look around at his surroundings with a renewed fascination.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” Seongje calls out, trying to find the first aid kit and ignore the uncomfortably vulnerable feeling at Baekjin's interest in his space.

“No.” Baekjin replies. “Well, a little. Nothing major.”

Seongje frowns, and drops the kit on the table anyways.

“Where?”

Baekjin looks down at himself, then points to his jaw. “Just here.” There’s a purpling mark starting to form.

“Shit…did they –” Seongje cuts off the question. Of course they did. He knows how Cheongang runs. It’s surprising there aren’t more injuries. “Are you in pain?”

Baekjin’s brow crinkles at the question. “...no.” Seongje raises a brow. “Not really. Nothing hurts.”

Seongje still fetches him an ice pack, then pulls two glasses from the cabinet, fills them from the tap, and rummages around until he finds salt crackers and a banana going slightly soft at the edges. That should be easily digestible, and Baekjin can take some pain meds right after. He sets them on the coffee table in front of Baekjin and holds out a clear glass. "Drink this."

Baekjin unsticks his gaze from the video game console and looks at it, then at Seongje. "What is it?"

"Just water."

"Oh." He takes it with both hands and drinks. Seongje watches him to make sure he doesn't choke. He doesn't, but he does spill a little on his chin. He wipes it clumsily and puts – slams – the glass back on the table. “Oops.”

“And eat something.” Seongje says dryly.

With a determined nod, Baekjin reaches for the banana. He grips the stem and tries to peel it, but the top of the banana bends too, instead of breaking.

He pauses. Seongje watches him try to collect himself. It takes a moment – longer than it would have normally, because everything about him is slower tonight, more visible. More readable.

Then he tries again, bending it the other way, frowning when it doesn’t work, then again, more aggressively.

Unable to watch any longer, Seongje snatches it from his hand and peels it himself. The top has been thoroughly squished to mush. He holds it out to Baekjin.

Baekjin takes the banana with raised brows, looking between it and Seongje like he’s impressed.

“Thanks.” He says again, casual but truly grateful. Seongje doesn’t reply, moving to sit on the other end of the couch. Baekjin eats slowly, and his gaze keeps drifting over to him. Seongje can feel it like a hand on the back of his neck. He doesn’t return the look, just grabs his own cup and sips it slowly.

“I like your new glasses.” Baekjin says suddenly, with that uncharacteristic earnestness that’s been with him all night. “You look good. Gold...the gold goes well with your hair.”

Seongje chokes, the water going down the wrong pipe. Coughing desperately, he slams his glass back on the table and beats his fist on his chest to fix it. Blames the flush on his cheeks entirely from the lack of air.

“Eat…” he rasps, “Eat your banana.”

“Okay…” Baekjin says, nonplussed, taking another bite, then, "How's your foot?"

Seongje coughs one more time, then forces a deep breath. Deliberately doesn’t look at Baekjin, instead grabbing his phone and scrolling through it with blurry eyes and tear tracks on his cheeks. "Fine."

"It was bad. When I saw you at the –" Baekjin stops. Seems to lose the word. "At the place. The station. The police station."

"I know what station."

"You were limping."

“So you noticed back then.” Seongje can’t help but say, snappy again. “But couldn’t be bothered to ask about it.”

“...Yes.” Baekjin answers quietly.

“A bit too late now, isn’t it?”

“...Yes.” Comes the same guilty reply. Seongje grimaces, but lets it go.

"I'm not limping now."

"I know." There's something in his voice, rawer than the rest. "I'm glad."

Seongje doesn't respond to that. He switches to something else instead. "Seongmok and Dongha are okay," he says, because Baekjin hasn't asked and probably won't, but Seongje can see the tension sitting in him. "Dongha called me. They got out."

Baekjin’s shoulders slump. "Okay," he says, and then again, softer: "Okay. Good."

It's strange, being here like this. This is Seongje's apartment, his couch, his fruit going soft in his kitchen – and yet somehow it feels like the most surreal thing he's experienced in weeks. Baekjin exists at the warehouse, at fights, on street corners and in the backs of cars. He doesn't exist here.

And yet here he is, eating a banana on Seongje's floor, wearing his windbreaker that's slightly too small for his broad shoulders, his usually groomed hair a mess, half sticking up from the back. His face flushed, a bruise on one cheek, grime on the other. Eyes red-rimmed and lips chapped. Looking younger and smaller and more ruined than Seongje has ever seen him.

He should feel some satisfaction about that. He doesn't.

Baekjin notices him watching and turns his body fully toward Seongje, shifting to sit criss-cross, looking up at him. Seongje looks back at his phone, but not fast enough. “Seongje.”

“What?”

“You’re mad at me, right?”

Seongje’s head snaps towards him in surprise. “I’m not –”

“I wish I had said something that night. About your foot. You. I was worried.”

Seongje knows Baekjin’s not in his right mind, so he shouldn’t do this, shouldn’t let it get to him, but it does. “Then why didn’t you?”

Baekjin looks down. “I…I…” He trails off, then looks back up. “I wanted to know if you were okay. Really.”

“You didn’t even ask me.” Seongje responds, his voice too raw.

“I’m sorry, Seongje.”

A lump suddenly grows in his throat. He didn’t expect the words he wanted to hear so soon. They shouldn’t count, not when Baekjin is like this, but they hit right where his chest aches.

“Great timing.” He snaps, pretending his voice isn’t trembling.

“I really am sorry, Seongje-ya.” Baekjin repeats, softer, still staring up at him with those damnably pretty eyes. “Are you okay now?”

Seongje yanks his glasses off and swipes at his face, “Just eat your fucking banana.”

“Okay…” Baekjin takes another bite, forlorn this time, mumbles something about always having bad timing.

He finishes the banana and neatly lays the peel on the table. Reaches for the crackers, turns them in his hand thoughtfully, then holds them out to Seongje.

Seongje raises a brow. Usually, it’s like pulling teeth to get Baekjin to let him help with anything. But there’s an expectant look on Baekjin’s face, somewhat audacious given what’s happened…but Seongje doesn’t hate it.

He tears open the package and returns it to him. Baekjin fishes one out and raises it to his lips, taking a tiny, delicate bite off the corner and chewing thoughtfully.

“Do you…” Baekjin starts slowly.

Seongje braces himself, looking at the ground as hard he can, mind racing at what this loose-lipped Baekjin might say next. Does he what? Does he think he can forgive him? Does he want to come back? Does he miss him?

“Do you have any cheese?”

Oh.

“Seriosly? Since when are you a picky eater?”

“Since always.” Baekjin replies stubbornly. “That’s why I always decide where we go to eat.”

He does always pick, and the food is always delicious. Seongje can’t argue with that. He gets up and digs through the fridge, coming up with two types. Lucky Baekjin.

“Here.” He dumps them on the table. Baekjin points to the yellow one, and Seongje opens it with a roll of his eyes. Baekjin reaches for it with eagerness. Seongje hands him the package, watching as he creates a little sandwich for himself and munches it down.

Baekjin’s never been this…open about what he wants before either. There’s something easy about it. He wonders if Baekjin will remember any of this when the effects wear off.

The thought sparks a tiny idea, one he tries to smother, but Baekjin is right here, looking at him like that – eyes tracing over Seongje like there’s nothing else to look at, his face so oddly open – and Seongje can’t help himself.

Baekjin started it anyway, with all the shit he’s been saying.

“Why did you call me?” He asks when Baekjin swallows his cracker creation.

Baekjin doesn’t even hesitate before answering, repeating the same thing he said before, “Because I knew you’d come.”

“We haven’t talked in weeks. How could you know that?”

“I just knew you would.” Baekjin says, face completely open, like his answer is the most obvious thing in the world. Seongje sighs, rubbing one cheek to try and press the warmth in it away. Then Baekjin adds, almost smugly, “I was right.”

Seongje stares at him, thrown off by the little grin there. “Right? And were you right about me snitching?”

The grin falls away into a smaller, chastened expression. “No.” Baekjin mumbles. “Sorry.”

Seongje hmphs at that. “Yeah.”

“I don’t think that.” Baekjin continues. “I know you didn’t say anything to the police.”

Seongje gapes at him, “Then why the hell did you say that?”

Baekjin’s mouth opens. For a second, Seongje thinks he’ll answer this time. But Baekjin just looks away. “Sorry.” He mumbles again.

Gritting his teeth, Seongje keeps going,, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Do you know how long it’s been?”

“Thirty four days.” Baekjin answers, again without a second to think.

Seongje stares, startled. “What?” Was he counting?

Baekjin blinks at him, brow faintly furrowing like he’s not sure what part Seongje is stuck on.

“You asked how long.”

“I know what I asked.” Seongje snaps. “Why do you know that?” He didn’t even know that.

Baekjin looks down at the crumpled cracker wrapper in his hands, smoothing one corner of it with his thumb. “I just do.”

Seongje doesn’t know what to say to that.

“I wanted to say something…but I didn’t know what to say. Or if you’d be mad if I interrupted your break. Cause I know you wanted a break from me.” Baekjin continues glumly, “Am I bothering you right now?”

Now it’s Seongje’s turn to flounder. “You’re – no – no. You’re not bothering me.”

Baekjin doesn’t look like he quite believes it.

“You thought I wanted a break from you?” Seongje asks, more quietly now.

Baekjin gives a miserable shrug. “You said you were done.”

“I said I was done after you accused me of being a rat.”

Baekjin doesn’t reply. Seongje looks back at him. He’s still looking down, shoulders rounded in on themselves. It’s strange on him. Wrong. Baekjin never usually looks smaller to make himself less of a target. He usually takes up space like he owns it.

“I know,” he says finally, voice low. “I just thought…if I came to you after that, you’d tell me to get lost.”

Seongje lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. “So instead you said nothing for thirty four days?”

Baekjin nods once.

“That’s your brilliant plan?”

Another nod. Seongje stares at him, letting it sink in. Does he even know how awful that made him feel? Lobbing those words so cruelly, letting him walk away without a word. Now Seongje’s supposed to believe he never meant it?

It’s so…dumb. Seongje had been aimless for the last month – no, four days over a month, apparently – and Baekjin had been sitting there waiting for him while Seongje waited back?

Despite everything, Seongje feels a laugh tug at the corner of his mouth. He kills it immediately.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I know.” Baekjin says again.

“I thought you were the smartest person I knew.”

“Really?” Baekjin perks up at that.

“But you’re a bigger idiot than I realized.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Baekjin agrees, then glances up through his lashes. “Are you still mad?”

“Yes.”

Baekjin absorbs that with a solemn look, like this is valuable information. “Okay.”

The answer is so meek that it knocks some of the force out of Seongje’s anger. He rubs a hand over his face.

“Stop acting like that.” He can’t keep snapping at him if he’s actually sorry. When Seongje was imagining this, he expected shouting, fists flying, at least a little blood spilled. This is…he doesn’t think he’s actually ever had anyone genuinely apologize to him before.

“Like what?”

“Like…” Seongje gestures helplessly. “Like you feel so bad about it.”

“But I do. I am sorry.” Baekjin says seriously. “I’ve been sorry.”

Seongje exhales harshly with annoyance. “Fuck…you’re just…now I feel like I’m being unreasonable.”

“I don’t think you are.”

“Then stop looking at me like that.”

Baekjin’s eyes widen a little. “How am I looking at you?”

Seongje has no idea how to answer that without making everything worse. He doesn’t say anything, and after a moment, Baekjin rubs his eyes like he can change what he’s doing. Then places his hands back on the backpack, hands curling into the straps again.

He still hasn’t moved. Like Seongje told him. He’s answering every question. Except one. A sneaking suspicion grows in Seongje, fueled by the evasion and what he learned from Dongha.

“Baekjin…why did Choi take you in yesterday?”

“He…” Baekjin pauses to think, then says, “He had some questions.” with finality, the way he’d usually end a discussion, like that’s a good enough answer. His expression harden s.

Tries to, anyways. It doesn’t quite land with the mussed up image of him, cheese in one hand, and only adds to Seongje’s hunch.

“Does Choi think I snitched?” Seongje asks casually.

“No.” Baekjin answers fast. “He doesn’t. I told him that.”

Baekjin defended him to Choi, but wouldn't say it to his face. Seongje brushes past that for now.

“So he asked you about me too. And he asked if you had talked to the police, or anyone else in the Union did?”

Baekjin’s mouth snaps shut, like he’s been led into a trap. That's answer enough. Seongje watches him fumble for his usual cold composure, and presses on before he can find it.

“And why would he suspect me at all? Just because I got taken to the station?” That didn't seem to warrant bringing people in for questioning this long after it had happened.

Baekjin looks away, mouth pressed tightly.

“Baekjin.” Seongje says in a warning tone, half exasperated. Baekjin stubbornly refuses to look back. Seongje stands from the couch and moves into his eyeline, only for Baekjin to jerk his head the other way. “Hey!”

Nothing.

Fine. He wants to play that way?

Seongje shoves the coffee table back, away from Baekjin, and plops down right in front of him. Baekjin's eyes widen, and he tries to turn his head again, but there's nowhere left to go. Seongje is right there, close enough that Baekjin has to look at him or look at the floor.

He chooses the floor.

"Look at me."

Baekjin's jaw works. He doesn't.

"Baekjin." Seongje ducks his head, trying to catch his eyes. Baekjin jerks his head up, still avoiding – but making no move to stand and get away. He probably knows he won’t get far like this.

Seongje’s eyes narrow, then he reaches out and flicks Baekjin sharply in the center of the forehead.

“Ow!” Baekjin exclaims, letting go of the straps to clutch his head. He finally looks at Seongje, with deep betrayal and a thin sheen of tears in his eyes. “Seongje!”

“Baekjin!” Seongje mocks. “Stop avoiding me. Why would Choi suspect me? And don’t give me that bullshit again.”

For a moment, Baekjin says nothing. His hands slowly lower to tighten around the backpack straps again. Then, quietly: “He was checking everyone.”

“No.” Seongje says immediately.

Baekjin blinks.

“No?” he repeats.

“No.” Seongje leans in. “Dongha and Seongmok got questioned only because they followed you. And you got held since yesterday. And he asked all of you about me."

Baekjin’s jaw flexes.

“That doesn’t sound like ‘checking everyone.’ That sounds like something else.” Seongje points out.

Still nothing.

“And you –” Seongje jabs a finger at him. “You’ve been weird every time I ask why you did – that. You didn’t accuse anyone else, did you?”

The look of guilt on Baekjin's face grows.

Seongje studies him for a second, then says, “Was Choi already investigating me before I got caught?”

A quick shake of his head.

“So after. But Choi suspected me of snitching before you did.”

“I didn’t –”

“Or you guessed he would be looking at me as soon as he heard the police took me in?”

Baekjin’s eyes shut.

The reaction is small, but it propels Seongje along.

“You did. You knew that would draw his attention.” he says, voice dropping. “That’s why you said that shit to me.”

Baekjin opens his eyes again, but still doesn’t answer.

“Was that it?” Seongje presses. “You wanted me gone before Choi could come after me?”

“No.” Baekjin says too fast.

Seongje narrows his eyes. “Liar.”

Baekjin’s mouth tightens.

“Then what?” Seongje demands. “You knew I didn’t talk to the police. You said it anyway. You let me walk away thinking you actually believed that, and then you said nothing for thirty four days.” His voice catches, anger scraping raw against something else. “So what was so important that you had to do that to me?”

Baekjin flinches.

Seongje sees it and pounces.

“What were you protecting?”

“Stop.” Baekjin mutters.

“Tell me.”

“Seongje –”

“Yourself? The Union? Baku? What?”

Baekjin looks at him then, finally, properly. His face is tired and open and miserable in a way Seongje has never seen before.

“I was protecting you.” he says.

The room goes still. Seongje’s heart thumps faster in his chest, waiting for more, but Baekjin doesn’t elaborate.

“No, you don’t get to say that like it explains anything.” Seongje snaps. “Protecting me from what?”

Baekjin looks down again.

Seongje laughs, sharp and humorless. “Unbelievable. Why do I even bother?”

He starts to get up, but Baekjin suddenly catches his wrist. His hand is warm, grip gentle.

Seongje pauses, still not facing Baekjin. There’s a soft tug, and he slowly sits back down, trying to get his breathing under control. “What?”

“If Choi thought it was you,” Baekjin says, words slow and heavy like they hurt to drag up, “he wouldn’t have just asked questions.”

“He did that with Dongha and Seongmok.”

“They’re not you.”

Seongje turns slowly, eyes landing back on Baekjin’s face.

Baekjin’s grip slips loose almost immediately, like even his gaze is too much. “When you got taken in, he started watching the Union closer.”

“Why?” Seongje asks. “What do you mean, closer? Why was he already watching us?”

Baekjin doesn’t answer.

Seongje’s stomach drops.

A thought, wild and ugly, begins to take shape.

“...It wasn’t me Choi was actually after, was it?” he says.

Baekjin’s silence says enough.

Seongje stares at him. “Baekjin.”

Baekjin rubs one hand over his face. His voice comes out rough. “I thought if you got angry enough, you’d leave.”

Seongje feels like all the air has been knocked out of him. “Leave what?”

“Me.” Baekjin says.

“You thought accusing me would make me stay away from you.” Seongje says slowly.

Baekjin gives one miserable nod.

“Because Choi was already watching you.”

Another nod.

Seongje’s pulse starts pounding in his throat. He already knows. He knows, and still he asks:

“Why?”

Baekjin is quiet for so long that Seongje almost thinks he won’t answer.

Then –

“Because it was me.”

Seongje’s whole body locks up.

Baekjin keeps staring at the floor.

“I was the one talking to the police.” he says, barely above a whisper. “Not you.”

___________________

Months. For months, Baekjin had been feeding information to the police. He confessed it to Seongje in small, careful sentences. Seongje eased off the questions, letting him take his time. Each bit of information seemed to weigh his shoulders farther down, and seemed to deepen the circles under his eyes.

Somehow, Seongje ends up settling next to him, their shoulders pressed together. Which of them is leaning on the other, he isn’t sure, but they sit there silently when Baekjin is done. Baekjin’s hand still circles his wrist.

“I knew you were up to something.” Seongje finally says, casually, trying to break the tension.

Baekjin’s head snaps towards him, horrified, “You noticed?”

“No.” Seongje admits. “You hid it pretty well.”

It’s a little annoying, but Seongje has respect for the man for exactly this reason. If he didn’t want anyone to find out, they wouldn’t.

Baekjin sighs next to him and scrubs his face with his free hand.

“So what’s our plan?” Seongje asks.

Baekjin’s lips purse and he looks at Seongje with some annoyance. The drugs seem to be wearing off, slowly but surely.

“My plan is finished. I gave the police everything I could. It’s on them now. And you’re going to stay out of it until they’re done.” Baekjin finishes with an order.

“Like I’d listen to you.”

“Seongje –”

“Kidding. As long as you’re sure Choi doesn’t suspect you anymore.”

“I am.” Baekjin answers, then a second time, quieter. “I am.”

Seongje watches him, trying to push down the anxiety that jumps in his own chest.

“Once the police come in, they’ll be focusing on Cheongang almost exclusively.” Baekjin explains, speaking more clearly, confidently now. “The Union isn’t going to be able to operate the same way, though. No more phones and motorcycles. But the other businesses we set up, they’re legitimate by now. Those will keep going.”

So there would still be a Union. Seongje nods, relieved. He put so much of his own time into it, building a future he could lean on. It hadn’t been all fights and bullying.

Baekjin turns to look at him, something complicated on his face. Seongje waits for him to find his words.

“I wish I could have done it differently.” Baekjin says at last.

“It’s…fine, Baekjin.” Seongje replies gruffly.

“It’s not.”

For a moment, Seongje doesn’t reply.

Maybe he’s pathetic for giving in so easily. It’s a relief, sure, that Baekjin hadn’t meant it. His loyalty was always the biggest part of himself he could offer, maybe the only honest thing about him, and Baekjin knew that.

Baekjin was playing a long game, moving for something bigger. How could Seongje still be mad?

Baekjin was right, anyways. If Seongje had known, he never would have left.

He’s not mad. He’s just…

Thirty four days.

When he joined the Union, Baekjin had so many walls up around him, Seongje almost didn’t think he would make it past. But he had persevered, something always drawing him to the other. He would never claim it was some kind of goodness or purity that connected them – no, they’d done too much for that – but there was an understanding between them and the world they were in. How they had to live, how they had to make it work for them.

What the risks were.

What it was all worth.

The more Seongje ingrained himself in the Union, the closer he got to the man he started off admiring from afar, the faster he found himself falling.

They’d spent so much time together. Working late nights in the office, watching each other’s backs in fights, handling each other’s tasks. Years of each other’s company had made their habits so meshed they almost seemed to share a mind at times.

Thirty four days was a long time. Long enough for Seongje to learn what every hour without Baekjin in it felt like.

“I wish you hadn’t done it like that either.” Seongje admits softly. Baekjin nods next to him and shifts a little closer.

They sit with that for another moment. Baekjin breaks the silence this time, fidgeting with a loose thread on the backpack as he speaks.

“With Choi gone…we’ll have more freedom. If you’ll come back…I mean, if you want to…” He tries. “Nothing’s changed. When the police make a move, everything’s supposed to continue like normal…so if you still…”

Baekjin clears his throat, then turns to face Seongje properly. “I’d like it if you came back to the Union, Seongje-ya. Whenever you’re ready. You don’t have to give me an answer now. I just wanted you to know that.”

Seongje can’t bring himself to do anything but whisper an "okay", and try to fight down the flutter in his chest. He's still absorbing it all.

Baekjin sighs softly, like something in him has been lifted.

“Today wasn’t supposed to go like this either.” he adds.

Seongje blinks, pulled from his thoughts. “What do you mean?”

“It’s your birthday, right?”

How did Baekjin know that?/

It had been in the back of Seongje’s mind all day, but he’d forgotten as soon as Baekjin had called him.

He glances at his phone. 11PM. An hour left.

“Yeah.” He’s suddenly aware of Baekjin’s grip on his wrist again.

"I had something planned." Baekjin says. "Before everything went sideways."

Seongje glances at him, the words taking a moment to make sense. Planned? "What kind of something?"

“A present.” Baekjin says, then more sheepishly, “And if I couldn’t do that, I had a backup plan too.”

For a second, Seongje can only stare.

“You got me a birthday present?”

Baekjin’s mouth tightens, suddenly looking almost embarrassed. “It’s at the office.” Baekjin mutters. “I was going to put it in your locker there before you came in tomorrow. Or…later. Whenever.”

Tomorrow. Like Baekjin had been that sure Seongje would come back eventually. Or at least that he’d still show up there, even if they didn’t speak.

“What did you get me?” Seongje asks.

Baekjin shakes his head immediately. “I’m not telling you.”

A startled laugh escapes Seongje before he can stop it. “You can’t just say that and then refuse to tell me.”

“I can.” Baekjin says, with a trace of his usual stubbornness. “It’s yours when you get it.”

The warmth in Seongje’s chest turns almost unbearable.

He looks down at Baekjin’s hand around his wrist, at the fingers that still haven’t let go. “How did even you know?”

A faint pink colors Baekjin’s cheeks. “Um…I looked at your ID when we were getting drinks. A few months ago.”

“And you remembered it?”

Baekjin glances away. “Of course I remembered.”

Like that part is insulting. Like Seongje should know better than to doubt it.

Something in Seongje goes a little weak at that.

Baekjin clears his throat. “I just…don’t have it here.” He sounds annoyed now, but only with himself. “So I don’t really have anything to give you.”

Seongje turns to face him more fully. “Baekjin.”

Baekjin keeps talking, quieter this time. “I know it’s stupid. I just thought –” He stops, jaw tensing. Starts again. “I wanted to give you something myself. Not just leave it there.” His voice drops lower. “Today wasn’t supposed to go like this.” he repeats.

Seongje’s heart begins to thump faster. “And what was the backup plan?”

Baekjin’s cheeks darken farther. “...Dinner.”

Seongje opens his mouth. Closes it. Dinner. Him and Baekjin at dinner.

"You were going to take me to dinner." he repeats.

"I was." Baekjin confirms, gaze steady despite how nervous he looks. "I figured it was a reasonable excuse."

"An excuse for what?"

Baekjin doesn't answer right away. His thumb moves, just slightly, against the inside of Seongje's wrist. A shift in pressure, like punctuation.

"To spend time with you," he says. "Outside of work. Without – everything else in the way."

Seongje’s own ears start to warm. He keeps his voice even. "You could have just asked."

"I know." Baekjin says. "I almost did. A few times."

"What stopped you?"

Baekjin tilts his head back against the couch, looking up at the ceiling. There's a small, wry pull at the corner of his mouth. "I wasn't sure what I'd do if you said yes."

The apartment is quiet. Seongje can hear the city distantly outside, and his own heartbeat a little too clearly.

"That's a terrible reason." he say.

"I know."

A soft smile curves Seongje's lips upward, but then an anxious thought stops it. "Baekjin...Choi gave you something, right? Do you remember that?"

Baekjin pauses, then gives a short nod.

"And how do you feel now?"

Baekjin considers the question, taking honest inventory of himself. "Tired. Clear." He turns his head, looking straight at him."I'm not saying things I don't mean, if that's what you're asking. I...even earlier, I meant every word. " 

Seongje holds Baekjin’s gaze for a moment longer, taking in the sincerity in those pretty eyes that he hadn’t seen for so long. They’re clear as ever, no longer clouded with any sort of confusion or slowness. "And you'll remember this tomorrow?"

Something gentler slips into Baekjin's expression. "Yeah."

Seongje still doesn't let the smile form fully, not yet. "Okay." he swallows. “Then...why?”

Baekjin frowns. “Why what?”

“Why did you get me anything?” Seongje asks, though they both know that’s not really the question. “Why would you take me to dinner?”

Seongje watches his throat move when he swallows. Watches the way his fingers tighten once around Seongje’s wrist before loosening again.

“You know why.” Baekjin says at last.

No, he doesn’t. Or maybe he does, and just wants to hear it.

His pulse is thudding hard now, stupidly hard, and Baekjin is looking at him with that same open expression from earlier – except this time there’s no drugged haze to blame it on.

“I think I need to hear it.” Seongje admits.

Baekjin stares at him for a long moment, like he’s deciding whether to jump from somewhere high.

Then he says, rough and honest, “Because it’s you.”

Seongje’s breath catches.

"I missed you." Baekjin continues. "Thirty four days. I missed you every single one of them."

Seongje's throat tightens. He doesn't trust himself to speak, so he doesn't.

"I kept thinking – once it was over. Once Choi was dealt with and you were safe and everything had settled." Baekjin's voice is low, unhurried, like he's been carrying these words for a long time and is only now setting them down. "I'd tell you everything. And then I'd ask you to dinner. And then maybe I'd –"

He stops.

"Maybe you'd what?" Seongje asks, against his better judgment.

Baekjin turns toward him slowly. His eyes are clearer than they've been all night, but the openness is still there – that unguarded quality that doesn't belong to the version of him that runs the Union. He looks at Seongje the way he looked at him when Seongje found him hiding, on the car ride to the office, nearly the entire time in his apartment. Like he still can't quite believe he's here.

Then his gaze drops briefly to Seongje's mouth. Then back up. He gives Seongje a tiny, helpless smile. A bit of uncertainty there, a bit of fear. Seongje can see the rawness there, the feeling of exposing yourself so much you’re about to flinch back from it all before it’s too much.

Seongje closes the distance before that happens.

The kiss is brief at first – careful, almost questioning. He only means to test it, to see if Baekjin will pull away, if this will shatter the second it becomes real.

Baekjin doesn’t pull away.

He makes a small sound against Seongje’s mouth, then leans in like he’s been wanting to for far too long and is only now being allowed. His free hand lifts uncertainly, brushing Seongje’s jaw before settling there, warm and shaking.

When Seongje finally draws back, they’re both breathing a little harder.

Baekjin looks stunned.

Seongje feels a little stunned himself, but there’s no taking it back now. He doesn’t want to.

“Well,” he says, “That’s one thing.”

“One thing?”

“You said you didn’t have anything to give me.”

Understanding dawns slowly, and with it, a dangerous little light in Baekjin’s eyes.

Seongje’s face grows hot, but he forces himself to keep going. “You owe me a birthday present.”

Baekjin’s thumb brushes once, lightly, over the inside of his wrist. “Do I?”

“Yes.” Seongje says, trying for dry and probably not hitting it. “And since your actual gift is at the office…and we can’t go out for dinner…”

He trails off. Baekjin is looking at him so intently now it’s hard to remember how words work.

“And?” Baekjin prompts.

Seongje exhales through his nose. “I guess you’ll have to compensate me.”

Baekjin’s mouth curves up. “Compensate you...hm. And how would you like to be compensated?”

Seongje should stop. He really should. Some part of him feels like he's free-falling, tipping over the edge into something new and uncertain and terrifying. But Baekjin is right here, warm and real and looking at him like that, and Seongje has lost too much time already.

“There were thirty four days.” he says, swallowing. “That seems like a lot of interest to make up.”

For a second, Baekjin just stares at him.

Then a laugh escapes him, genuine and fond. Those lovely dimples reappear, his eyes crinkle at the edges, and his expression softens so completely it almost hurts to look at. Seongje has nowhere else in the world he would rather be.

“Thirty four?” Baekjin repeats.

Seongje shrugs, pretending his heart isn’t trying to beat out of his chest. “You were the one counting.”

Baekjin leans in, forehead pressing to Seongje’s before he murmurs, “Then I should start now.”