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the crazy bastard is drunk. wasted. inebriated enough to dial his number and order him to pick him up in a back alley bar that smells of piss and cheap alcohol. it's a wonder how the bastard even found the place with its malfunctioning neon sign and building that screams ‘shady as fuck.’
but then again, it's kim soleum. the man himself is shady as fuck.
“no wonder you're in a place like this,” he spat. if baek saheon is going to be honest, the bar looks and smells like a ghost story. “how the fuck did you even find this place?”
baek saheon freely ran his mouth. kim soleum is dead to the world. knocked out. the bastard smells of booze and is likely too drunk to even give him one of his psychotic smiles.
he felt an involuntary shiver run down his spine at the thought of the bastard’s smile. crazy. just thinking of the bastard sober is enough to ruin his mood.
he glanced at the alcohol saturated baggage by his side. his one arm wraps around the bastard’s waist while the other secures kim soleum's arm on his shoulder.
baek saheon cannot help but scoff. should he just dump him in a ditch somewhere?
but knowing the crazy bastard, he'll likely have his head once he's sober enough to make threats. better to curry favor instead and get a good item. he'll milk the man dry for this act of generosity.
“i… wa… h…”
shit. baek saheon almost jumped when he heard the bastard mumble. did he hear him talk shit?
but by the way kim soleum's head lolls to the side, his closed eyes—ah, his eyelashes are pretty long—and his warm weight against baek saheon, it doesn't seem to be the case.
“what? speak up.” baek saheon demanded.
"i want to go home." kim soleum murmured, a bit more coherent now. baek saheon pressed his head closer to the bastard's mouth to hear him better.
"what?"
"i want to go home."
he cannot help but scoff. he almost pushed the bastard off.
"where do you think we're going then?" saheon asked sarcastically. should he just dump his body somewhere? hah.
saheon cannot understand the concept of home. it is not the small village in chungnam. a place he despises but returns to annually due to the will of some cruel god.
nor is it the house with a tiled roof. he leaves his footwear at the door's threshold but no one is no longer around to welcome the lost boy who moved away in fear of his fate.
and it is not his sister—no longer her. his sister is dead. her bones are not strong enough to house him from his fears.
when he thinks about it, the closest thing he has to home is a shared apartment in seoul. far from the eye of jisan, a place he chose on his own.
in it, he is baek saheon. not a boy who lost his sister, not a villager bound to draw the golden stick. he is safe.
“i want to go home,” his baggage grumbled again.
baek saheon is safe as long as his roommate doesn't kill him.
he cannot help but sigh once more when he remembered the man against him. he hoisted up the crazy bastard and readjusted his hand on his waist—fuck, why is his waist so small?
“i want to go home.”
“yes, yes. you want to go home. why do you think we're waiting for a cab then?”
it was silent. baek saheon almost believed that the bastard was finally asleep when his superior mumbled.
“you don't understand. there's a place i must return to.”
truth be told, baek saheon cannot care less about the crazy bastard. kim soleum is simply his roommate, his superior at work, the lunatic who made him lose his left eye. kim soleum is simply a madman who watches cartoons late at night with his pink voodoo doll. a psycho who threatens him every single day without fail.
and a man who stares off the window a little too long.
another curse escaped his lips.
perhaps even a crazy bastard like kim soleum also has a home to return to.
not that he cares. fuck if he cares. but baek saheon gently readjusted his hold on kim soleum, his arm carefully wrapped around the man's waist, and reminded himself to drop by a convenience store later for a hangover medicine.
"let's go home.”