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Baku pulls Seongje away from the loud music and the noisy crowd, to a place where no one will interrupt their conversation. Seongje doesn't resist and, surprisingly, obediently trails behind. The guy seems almost relaxed, ignoring the too-tight grip on his wrist and the dark aura radiating from Humin.
When they reach the first deserted, dimly lit corner, Baku immediately shoves Seongje against the cold, rough wall, not holding back on the force. It definitely hurts, but Seongje doesn't even flinch, just smirks, tilting his head to the side. That attitude only fuels the irritation.
“What the hell was that?”
They're still keeping their distance. Being up close is dangerous.
“What are you talking about?” Seongje snorts, his whole demeanor screaming disinterest. He pulls a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his tacky orange windbreaker and looks like he's about to light one up.
Baku clenches and unclenches his fists, slowly exhales, letting the cool night wind hit his face, hoping it'll help him cool down just a little. The guy is absolutely sure that Seongje knows exactly what's up and is provoking him on purpose. He can't give in.
“Stop pretending to be more of an idiot than you already are.” Comes out almost composed, Humin is proud of himself.
Seongje stays silent for a moment, holding a theatrical pause, and thoughtfully twirls the cigarette between his fingers, but doesn't light it yet.
“Well, between the two of us, you're the one looking more like an idiot right now. Especially in this moment.” The words come out lazy, defiant, Seongje clearly enjoying himself. “Park Humin, either spell out your ridiculous complaints, or stop wasting my time. I've still got a lot of plans tonight.”
Seongje purposely uses his full name, and it's so obvious it's almost funny. This asshole even tries to take a step to the side, as if he's actually about to leave. Humin doesn't let him: he closes the distance and forces him further into the brick wall. His arm lands next to Sonjae's head, but the guy doesn't even flinch.
Now they're very close. Close enough to catch the now-familiar scents coming off each other. Their hot breaths practically mingle, and Baku tries to push away the nagging thoughts about how many times they've been in a similar position and how it usually ends.
“I asked: what the fuck was that performance you put on after the finish line?” A quiet, angry hiss right in the other's face.
“Performance?”
Seongje pretends to think about it, managing to sound almost innocent. Even though that's the last word you'd ever use to describe him. Humin is barely holding it together. Every cell in his body tenses up, all attempts to cool down go out the window. Keum Seongje knew better than anyone how to get under his skin and make him lose control.
“Oh, you mean the kiss?” He drawls boredly and brings the cigarette to his lips, shrugging indifferently. “So what?”
Humin snatches the cigarette from him, crushes it in his palm, tosses it aside, and then looms even closer, more threatening now. It feels like the very air heats up in that instant.
“Are you fucking serious?” Baku lets out a harsh, humorless laugh. His free hand clenches into a fist. “You had the nerve to kiss some random guy right in front of me, and now you're saying "so what"? Have you completely lost your mind?”
“Park Humin, why such a reaction? Are you homophobic?” The corner of Seongje's mouth twitches, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses. The guy says it in a theatrically judgmental tone, shaking his head, and then suddenly snorts, as if remembering something. “Never noticed that about you before. Especially last sunday. Or two saturdays ago. And definitely not yesterday, when your tongue was in my…”
“Shut up.”
Humin doesn't let him finish and, losing control, punches the wall right next to the other's ear. Seongje immediately shuts up, but not out of fear, because he got exactly the reaction he wanted. He looks incredibly pleased. Baku still can't decide what he wants more: to smash the guy's face in or kiss him senseless so this idiot finally stops his circus act.
Humin can't remember the last time he was this angry. Seongje loved playing with his patience and did it way too often. But this is the first time he's crossed every line. Baku tries to breathe the way Gotak once taught him, but there's no way it's working. The fire has already blazed to an impressive scale, and Seongje is still pouring fuel on it, feeding the flames and seemingly not planning to stop.
“You seem way too tense. Is it because of the loss?” He says with unnaturally soft mock sympathy, patting him on the shoulder as if in a gesture of support. “Don't be so upset, next time you'll definitely get lucky.”
His hand is immediately caught and held in a firm grip. Baku clenches his jaw, almost to the point of grinding his teeth. His expression goes neutral, detached. Outwardly he's calm, though inside everything is boiling and hanging by a thread from exploding.
Right now, Baku couldn't care less that he came in second, losing to Seongje by just a few seconds. In their unspoken score, the winner has long been clear. It's something else that's getting to him. They both know it.
“What were you trying to achieve? For me to notice? Congrats, you succeeded. Done? Had your fun?” His voice is cold, almost indifferent.
Seongje lets out a raspy laugh at that, tilting his head back slightly and biting his fucking lips, which Baku has been thinking about way more often than he should lately.
“You're so funny and full of yourself, Park Humin. The world doesn't revolve around you. I did it just because I wanted to and I could.”
The grip on Seongje's wrist tightens instantly, but he doesn't even try to pull away. Baku will deny it under threat of death, but the words stung, cutting deep. The realization of his own weakness only fueled the rage. Someone smart, like Shiin, would call it a defense mechanism, but Baku doesn't give a damn about scientific terms.
While he's trying to handle the raging storm in his chest and not do anything stupid, Seongje opens his overly talkative mouth again.
“Or are you reacting this way because we sometimes have fun together?” The guy snorts, raising an eyebrow, and teasingly runs his tongue along his upper teeth. “But you said it yourself at the beginning: it means nothing and blah-blah-blah. We don't owe each other anything and can do whatever we want. My actions don't concern you at all.”
Humin remembers their first time vividly, almost three months ago, and everything he said and did. The memories are still vivid, maybe even too much. He's not sure he'll ever be able to forget that exhilarating feeling of triumph and absolute victory, when Seongje, for a few insanely sweet moments, stopped pretending to be an insufferable jerk and completely melted under the pressure of his greedy, persistent hands and lips.
That day, they'd clashed again before the race, or more precisely, Seongje, as usual, was the instigator: provoking Baku with his behavior and jabs. It was generally hard to get under his skin, but Seongje always managed. Lately, Baku had been neutral about losses, except when it meant losing to Keum Seongje. The other's defiance and arrogance touched something dark deep inside Humin. It had taken root and grown every time their eyes met.
He desperately wanted to wipe that smug mask off and put this arrogant asshole in his place. The tension had been building for months, and it finally burst, ending with Seongje underneath him: barely coherent, only able to let out hoarse, ragged moans and occasional curses, gasping for air. He's still haunted by the feeling that the guy was gunning for exactly that outcome. Worst of all, Baku got hooked on that intoxicating feeling of power and euphoria like a total addict.
“You really think I'd buy that bullshit? You did it deliberately, right under my nose.”
The distance shrinks even more. Baku catches the subtle scent of nice cologne and tobacco, which seems to have long since soaked into Seongje's very being. Baku notices that the closeness affects not just him: the other's pupils are dilating, his chest is starting to rise and fall more heavily, and his hands are clenching into fists.
“I love making out when the adrenaline is pumping through my veins, you know that. The guy was right there and clearly didn't mind. It would've been dumb to pass up the opportunity. Besides, I enjoyed it.”
The arrogance is still there, but a hoarse edge creeps into his voice, and Keum swallows. Baku, with all his remaining strength, tries not to show that the last word had exactly the effect Sonjae expected.
“Or what? Was I supposed to come to you? You'd never do something like that in front of that many people, especially if your precious friends might see.”
This is the last straw for Humin's patience. He practically pins Seongje to the wall, firmly grabbing his waist, and captures his lips in a rough, harsh kiss. The guy reacts instantly, like he was waiting for just that: he pulls Baku in tighter by the neck and responds with the same intensity, shoving his glasses off into his pocket carelessly.
Seongje never initiates the kiss. He definitely enjoys watching Baku break.
Their tongues tangle, and Humin doesn't give a single second of respite, overpowering him, forcing submission. Seongje moans into his mouth, struggling to breathe, but doesn't even think about pulling away, and Baku wouldn't have let him anyway. They cling to each other as if their lives depend on it.
Baku tries to drown out that poisonous feeling that's been festering inside him ever since he saw Seongje with someone else. Most people would probably call it jealousy, but he refuses to put that label on it. Because Humin never gets jealous, that's not who he is. If he really thinks about it, it feels more like betrayal, but he definitely has no right to feel that way. They weren't together, and Humin was the one who set the boundaries.
It's always been crystal clear that Seongje wouldn't be able to play by the rules for long and accept all the conditions of their "arrangement," but Baku wasn't prepared for this twist.
Hot, impatient fingers slip under the thin white t-shirt, brushing against the skin of his toned stomach, raising goosebumps and making him arch into the touch. Seongje almost trembles in his arms from something so small. Fuck, how much Humin loved seeing him like this.
“If you pull something like that again, I swear to God, I'll strangle you with my own hands.” Comes out sharp, firm, with an undisguised threat.
Baku's lips wander over his face and cheekbones, moving to his neck, leaving painful bites. His thigh pushes between Seongje's legs, his fingertips sliding down unrestrainedly. All sounds fade away, leaving only their mingled breaths and the rustle of clothing.
Humin couldn't care less that they're outside right now and someone might see them. He even forgets about his friends, who definitely noticed his sudden disappearance. It's impossible to resist this pull, useless to even try.
Seongje bites his lips, almost drawing blood, trying to keep some control over the situation, but realizes it's futile. He throws his head back, baring his neck to the peculiar caress, and threads his fingers through Baku's disheveled hair.
”Your "threat" sounds way too tempting, Baku. You know I'd be into that. So, maybe next time I should hook up with someone right in front of…”
Baku shuts him up with another angry kiss, his grip becoming punishing, sure to leave bruises. A guttural sound, like a growl, rips from his throat. Humin will make this bitchy asshole forget all that bullshit. He promises: Seongje will forget not just that nonsense, but his own name.
You wanted attention and you've got it.