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“By the way, about Baekjinnie…do you know where he is?” Seongje asks mildly, like he’s only a little put-off and his heart isn’t about to pound out of his chest. “I can’t reach that asshole.”
The dangerous man sitting in the shadows of the bowling alley exhales smoke, long and slow. He stubs out his cigarette on the rubber sole of his business shoe, then glances at Seongje.
HIs face is blank. “I don’t know. I’m curious too.”
Seongje nods. Spins back on his heel and saunters out the exit.
The second he reaches the top of the stairs, he’s sprinting.
Why didn’t Baekjin call him? The fight with Eunjang – Seongje had to hear about it through Seongmok and Dongha. Against Baku, like Baekjin always wanted.
Seongje was ready to come back. He only needed him to ask, to let him know he wasn’t nothing.
But the phone never rang. The last text message remained Seongje's final where are you?
Seongje runs faster. His shoes slam against the pavement. The cold air burns in his lungs.
There’s no way he lost. Absolutely no way.
Baekjin was stronger than Baku. Seongje was the one who was wrong, Baku couldn’t outmuscle Baekjin. That had to be true, it simply had to.
Sweat trickles down his nape and his forehead. He rounds a corner hard, nearly knocking over a woman and scrambling past her without a word of apology.
A broken leg and arm. Steel knuckles, two against one, those lowlife, hypocritical motherfuckers. Left him in the rain, all alone –
He should have been there.
Why did Baekjin have to say that? Seongje wouldn’t have left if that stupid, selfish, proud fool hadn’t said that.
Cars screech to a stop as Seongje darts across a red crossing. Honking fills the air but he can only hear his own heart in his ears.
After all the time they spent together – after everything they shared – why would Baekjin –
He’s here.
Seongje stumbles to a stop in front of an apartment building. Panting, he sags against the wooden door, one hand braced for support right under the golden eleven tacked on there.
Baekjin’s apartment.
Seongje places one trembling hand on the knob. It twists easily. Why the fuck is it unlocked?
He doesn’t push the door open. Not yet.
First, he takes another desperate gulp of fresh air and swipes at his face with the back of his hand, nearly knocking his new glasses off his face.
Then he tells himself that Baekjin is inside.
He knows it. When he opens this door, Baekjin’ll be there like he always was. The masked expression on his pretty face, those stunningly sharp eyes, that luminous pale skin. He’ll be sitting at his dining table, working on something, and he’ll welcome Seongje in like always.
The door swings open.
Empty.
The entire flat is completely empty. Even the table is gone. The pictures that used to line the walls, the huge shelves of academic and classic books.
It’s all gone.
Seongje stares in disbelief. His heart sinks so fast it feels like it’s tearing itself out of his chest to crumble away.
He can’t be gone. He can’t be, please, please –
“Meow.”
Seongje's gaze darts down to a cat sitting inside, right under the counter at the entryway.
What’s a cat doing here? Did Baekjin actually buy one after threatening to replace Seongje that time?
“Mrow.”
It has sleek black fur and eyes that nearly glow a pale golden-green. Seongje’s gaze dips lower at what’s hung around its neck.
A red leather strap, buckled with a silver clasp, far too big for the slim animal. It sits on its shoulders and is loose enough to slip off.
The cat isn’t bothered by it.
But Seongje is.
My collar, he thinks. Why the hell does it have my collar on?!
He steps inside, letting the door swing shut behind him.
With shaking fingers, he lifts it off the cat and brushes away the stray hairs.
His mind flashes with memories.
The joke this thing started as, the wonderful tool it turned into, and the truth it represented about them.
Carefully, almost reverently, he undoes the strap and wraps it around his own neck. He buckles it at the third hole, exactly where it was always comfortable, and slumps back to sit against the counter.
The cat settles down next to him, calmly tucking its paws under its chest.
Seongje doesn’t know how long he stays like that.
Hours. Maybe even the whole day.
He doesn’t notice if the sun rises and sets. He doesn’t notice his stomach gnawing with pain before going quiet. Some part of him strives to remain alive, and it numbs everything in him it can to do it.
The cat might shift some, but it always comes back and sits by his side, keeping vigil with him.
It’s a small comfort. Something about the fact that it was left here nags at Seongje’s mind. But nothing coherent rises from it.
He just waits.
And waits.
And waits.
And waits.
Eventually, the thought does surface.
The Baekjin that Seongje knew might have abandoned him, but to leave a cat locked in his apartment like this…
There’s a quiet creak. The door knob turns slowly. It swings open without any theatrics.
Seongje lifts his tired head.
Baekjin stares down at him. He’s not the same as Seongje left him. He’s bruised and he’s broken and he looks more tired than he’s ever seen him.
But he’s here.
Seongje tips forward onto his hands and knees and crawls to him.
Immediately, Baekjin reaches down and pulls him up by his shoulders, wrapping him in a tight embrace just as the first sob breaks from Seongje’s throat.
“Hi.” He murmurs into Seongje’s hair.
Hi. Is that all? Hi?!
But Seongje's too choked up to snap at him for that.
His own arms rise to return the hug fiercely, crushing Baekjin to him and ignoring the quiet groan of pain. Serves him right.
All the words Seongje wants to say bubble up in his throat and spill out as more tears. But that’s fine. It’s probably more honest than anything Seongje could come up with. Baekjin seems to understand.
When Seongje can finally breathe properly and he’s not dripping all over Baekjin’s expensive winter coat, he leans back and looks him in the eye.
“Hi.”