Chapter Text
Baku had a dream.
It came on the night after he'd gone to Yeo-il high, challenging any remaining ties he had with Baek-jin.
It was a dark hall. He stood in front of a picture of a child, framed in light brown, adorned with yellow flowers just below it. The child looks shy, in his beige uniform, with a bruise hidden beneath his bangs, he looks like the typical victim of bullying and violence.
The kid stares back at him, his gaze is hesitant and devoid of beatitude. He looks about twelve, face bleak, and holds an expression of someone who has never experienced delight before; it makes Hu-min want to affix new, better emotions onto the boy, then pull him into a snug hug. He wants to make the boy happier, just like how he felt when he met his first friend.
It's a sad sight; the boy passed young and lonely as a friendless loser, his parents must be devastated.
Except there are no parents, and the kid is Na Baek-jin.
Hu-min's breath hitches. What the hell?
He steps forward hesitantly, a hand reaches out towards the altar.
The memorial picture warps and shifts—his hand jerks back, it slowly melts into what resembles the Baek-jin he now knows, but struggles to recognize.
A chill runs down his spine.
His school picture stares back at him, Baek-jin's pretty fox-like eyes, the same ones Hu-min loved to stare at and sink into. Except now they're a little less alive, but also less afraid, unlike their old school days.
He can't deny he misses those scared eyes.
He'd rather have Baek-jin afraid and a victim than away and violent. If he knew Baek-jin was going to end up like this, he would have never dripped the power into the other's outstretched and cupped hands. He'd rather have Baek-jin like a damsel in distress and play hero.
A part of him feels fucking disgusted by his selfish wants. The images of Baek-jin curled up on the gravel, beat and bleeding with those filthy fucking footsteps on his uniform. It makes him sick.
Baku shuts his eyes, trying to fade out the scenes in his head. No, no.
“Why stop me? I learned it all from you.”
He opens his eyes wide. there's some sand, and water colliding with the sand. There are two children in school uniforms.
“Why are you so nice to me?”
He doesn't want that damsel anymore.
The two boys lay on the beach, Hu-min with his arms to his head, and Baek-jin with his on his chest. The sound of children laughing merges with the crash of waves.
“Because you're my friend?” Hu-min turns his head to face the other.
Baek-jin does the same, now looking at his supposed friend. “I don't have anything that makes you want to be my friend.” The words make Hu-min pout, “Don't say that! You're so cool and smart, and you learned basketball so quickly! Hell, what's there to not like about you?” He pushes himself up. “I'll be your friend for a long long time, yeah?”
“Liar.”
“Huh?”
“You're lying. We'll grow up and you'll leave me, because that's what people always do. Or you'll get tired of protecting me from bullies and stop coming for me.”
Hu-min thinks the expression that Baek-jin's words brought to his younger self's face could be on the cover of a youtube video, or a sticker he could send to Baek-jin.
Hu-min stares at the two boys a little more, and scoffs at how badly he wanted to befriend Baek-jin back then, he wants to deny the fact that he hasn't grown up much in that part of him.
He remembers how, after a month of sticking to Baek-jin like glue, he eventually got the boy to start calling him “Baku” like the other kids did, he was so fucking happy that day. And another month of being clingy later, Baek-jin started to grow less afraid of his bullies, because he believed that Baku would always show up before he could ever get seriously hurt.
He wonders if Baek-jin would believe in him again, or let him run to Baek-jin. If he lets himself wait and wish for Baku to appear when he gets into a fight. Hu-min wants Baek-jin to wish for him.
He wants to experience the joy he felt when he first heard “Baku” from the boy's lips again. He's craved it every single day of his life.
He craves Baek-jin.
He remembers the younger boy's face, Baek-jin always looked so hesitant and scared as a kid, Hu-min wonders if Baek-jin still hesitants before talking to people now, and if he's scared of that man above the union.
Hyun-tak's words echoed in the back of his mind. “You're worried about him.” Maybe he is, but does he really have the right to worry about the boy who ruined Gotak's future as an athlete, made his dad spend a night in a holding cell, and almost killed Jun-tae?
Na Baek-jin, his arch enemy, someone he'll never ever get along with, someone he just “really fucking hates.”
And Na Baek-jin, his first friend, someone he'll always be with, someone he “doesn't know what to not like about.”
That Jinnie he remembers and is dreaming of, would hide behind him in fear at the sight of what this Jinnie has become, he would step back and whisper, “Baku, let's just run.” Then Hu-min would yell “Hell no! Let's teach these punks a lesson for beating you up!” With his chest out and hands on his hips. And slowly, Baek-jin would reluctantly step foward, and fall along Baku's side.
The jinnie he craves.
He'd be lying if he said he didn't miss Baek-jin.
But still, he gets ready when he wakes up, and heads out in the rain.
Hu-min walks along the uphill road to the lot where both parties agreed to meet at. The cold humid air fills his lungs. His sneakers are soaked, the sky just keeps on crying and crying, just like all the times he sobbed in front of Baek-jin, he tries to imagine how the boy's digits felt on his cheeks, and the way he would comfort him.
“Baek-jin, I'm so sorry!” He sprints towards Baek-jin, who clutches his nose and crouches on the basketball court. “Oh shit! Are you okay? Baek-jin, I-” Hu-min's hands hover over the boy, unsure where to touch.
“It's okay.” Baek-jin mumbles.
“Shit! Shit! I'm so sorry, Baek-jin! Baek-jin, are you okay?! I'm sorry!”
“Hu-min, I'm fine.” He turns his head up, an ugly bruise on the top of his nosebridge. the sight quiets the panicking boy immediately. “Baek-jin, your nose...”
The two sit outside a rundown pharmacy ran by an old man, there's no doubt that it's not licenced, but it's the best option for two broke middle schoolers, one with a roughed up nose. Baek-jin makes Hu-min hold up a mirror as he coats his injury with the yellow ointment. “It doesn't hurt. it's okay, Hu-min.” He looks up at the boy, who doesn't face him. “Baku?”
The hands on the mirrior tighten.
“Hey.” He looks up from the mirrior. “Baku? Hey, Hu-minnie? Are you crying?” Baek-jin sets the tube down and places a hand on the other's shoulder. Hu-min sniffles in return and mutters a weak denial.
“Baku, look at me.”
“No, and I'm not crying.”
“Park Hu-min.”
“I said I'm not-”
Baek-jin grabs his face, turning him around. Hu-min feels his face heat up—no, set on fire. It burns, Baek-jin's touch burns. A lit match passes his eyebag, sweeping the tear away. “It's okay.”
He stares at the other's bruise, that he caused.
It's not okay. Hu-min is afraid, so fucking afraid of letting violence consume him, just like it gobbled up his dad. He's so afraid, afraid of hurting Baek-jin.
“I'm sorry, Baek-jin.”