Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Something feels off.

The feeling when there is an itch, but you don't know where it is. So you just want to rip every inch of your skin off to put an end to the torment.

Juntae is feeling exactly like that. Nothing is great about wanting to go home and relax, and then seeing the source of the itch, of that persistently nagging unsettleness.

"Yo, long time no see, Eunjang!" greets him Geum Seongje, his hands tucked in the pockets of his baggy sweatpants.

"I thought we'd never meet again. Never," replies Juntae and looks for any sign of other guys Seongje might've brought with him.

You'd be a fool not to be wary of the Union's menace. He doesn't wish to get ambushed, at least for tonight. Juntae had too much on his plate. First, his manager yells at him, and second, a rude customer almost burns him with scalding-hot coffee. And now - this. Life is having too much fun with Seo Juntae lately.

"You sound upset. What? Not happy to see your savior? I'm hurt, baby."

Juntae sighs, biting the inside of his cheek. It will definitely hurt later.

Seongje is the same annoying prat. Nothing has changed since their last encounter. It's been close to six months now. Maybe Juntae took the calmness and boredom of his daily life for granted.

Also… baby? Really?

He's such a pain in the ass.

"Don't tell me you came just to dangle it over my head. Ok, let's say, hypothetically, I owe you for that. What do you expect in return?" Juntae eyes him warily, and a second later, realization hits. "Wait, how do you know where I live? Did you stalk me?"

Seongje shrugs, swinging from side to side on the balls of his feet. There is a mirth glistening in his gaze. And it is borderline dangerous.

Juntae avoids meeting his eyes - like prey would. It stings his ego, sure, but the only thing he wants is to go inside and sleep. Preferably without any injuries. He might even skip brushing his teeth.

"Yeah, pretty much. I even know what your shitty boss looks like. Ah, fuck, speaking of him - he's getting on my nerves. Want me to beat him up? He's been asking for it."

"Just tell me what you came for, Geum Seongje. Quit stalling."

"I just want to spend my birthday with the most romantic person I know," says Seongje and gestures at the prettily wrapped box behind his back on the curb. He lifts his phone and turns the screen towards Juntae. "It's almost midnight. Let's hurry up."

Juntae's urge to scream and flap his arms around - just like his mom does when she is fed up - grows imponentionally bigger.

But a one-second glance at Seongje's face is enough to stop him in his tracks. The boy looks like he hasn't eaten in days, his eyes red with capillaries ready to burst at any given time. There are angry-red cuts on his cheek, like someone clawed at him. And bruises in the form of a palm across his neck. They're yellowish in color, fading away in a rather ugly way. At least his clothes seem clean.

Juntae tilts his head sideways to read what's written on the box. Chocolate strawberry cake. One of his favorites. The decision comes like an unexpected wave, washing away the crippling doubt.

"Come in."

There are no other pairs of shoes other than his on the shoe rack. The apartment greets them with darkness and uncomfortable silence that has been seeping through the walls. The motion sensor detects the movement and blinds them with hospital-like lights. If Seongje notices the lonely state of his home, he decides not to open his mouth and overwhelm the owner with personal questions.

Yet.

The curious gleam in his stare says otherwise. Juntae knows Seongje, even if they haven't talked to each other for more than an hour before tonight. He knows how Seongje is dying to get the answers, to stick his nose somewhere he doesn't belong. If Juntae were hot-headed like Gotak, that same nose would've already been broken askew by now.

But Seo Juntae is not Gotak. Nor does he know how to break noses. So he just internally rolls his eyes. Seongje is too observant for his own good, and Juntae knows not to let his facial expressions betray the thoughts he has running in his mind. The mind, which is on the verge of shutting down.

He yawns as he sets down the plates and forks.

"As soon as we finish eating your cake, you're out the door," Juntae winces at how harsh he sounded, but boundaries are boundaries. Although letting the boy inside already crossed one of them.

"Hm, so hospitality is not your thing, huh? You don't look like the type to kick people out, especially on their birthday," Seongje answers from the couch, legs spread wide.

"Did you wash your hands?"

"No. Should I? Don't wanna."

Juntae picks up a knife and points it at Seongje, frowning.

"Alright, alright." Seongje puts his hands up reluctantly. "Such a feral kitten you are."

Juntae watches him leave for the bathroom. After ensuring Seongje is not in his sight anymore, he sets the knife down, and his knees buckle. Being in Geum Seongje's presence is draining. Being the one who catches Seongje's attention and interest was draining. Somehow, Juntae ends up as that "one".

Nobody in their right mind would volunteer to enjoy and bask in the boy's attention, in his probing gazes and soft yet dominant tone. But Juntae would, blushing and trying to keep his heartbeat steady.

Why wouldn't he feel at least a little flattered?

Here, Seongje is in his apartment, in the very bathroom he uses every day, and he came here on his own accord. Not because the Union ordered so, not because he is going to beat the shit out of Juntae till his teeth won't feel like teeth anymore, and the mouth becomes a bloody jelly.

No. Seongje is here to celebrate his own birthday. And out of all the people he knows, he chose Seo Juntae. Maybe Seongje is deranged, or maybe it's Juntae who is delusional. Or perhaps, both are true. He can't tell. And all these stupid names? Baby? Kitten? Juntae doesn't mind, he isn't even slightly offended. He blames his fatigue.

Juntae opens the fridge and takes out a first-aid kit. Those cuts on Seongje's cheek don't look good. But his first-aid kit is just a name, because upon searching for anything to apply to the cuts, he only finds a few bandaids covered in dust.

It works, I guess, he thinks.

"Why are there rubber ducks in your bathtub? You have a younger sibling?" asks Seongje.

He returns to the living room, rubbing his wet hands on the hem of his T-shirt. Juntae fights the urge to throw a towel into his smug face.

"They're mine. Got an issue?" he yells from the kitchen.

"No, no. How dare I? It's cute."

Juntae sets the plates on the coffee table in front of him and turns off the lights on the way to the kitchen.

"What did you do that for, Eunjang? Hey, answer me!"

He hears how Seongje huffs, but doesn't follow him. Good. Juntae doesn't know what number of candles to put on the cake, so he grabs all that he has (some of them are already melted halfway) and sticks them onto the cake.

There are thirty-one candles in total. He can't help but giggle. If it were Baku in Seongje's place, he would've been offended to no avail, clutching his chest, his mouth agape, and full-on declaring war. Whereas Sieun would've stared at it for a minute and just go on about his day.

"We will all turn thirty-one eventually," he would've said.

"Hey! Am I just gonna sit here in darkness?" he hears Seongje's voice, but it doesn't sound angry or even mildly annoyed.

"Don't you move, not even an inch, I swear, or else…"

A muffled laughter reaches his ears. Seongje might have a hand over his mouth, he assumes.

Light warmth hits Juntae's face as he leans over to light the candles. The smell of wax fills the room. A little flame from the lighter licks the top of his thumb, making him hiss in pain rather loudly. He rushes over to the sink and lets cold water run over it.

Looks like Seongje is not the only one who needs a bandaid today.

Juntae is sure Seongje heard him, but he strangely stays put. The Union guy obeying him and following his orders was not on his wishlist. Yet Juntae feels giddy, even pleased.

It's unbelievable how happy he gets as soon as he sees Seongje's expression when the latter notices what he's holding while entering the living room. Yes, Seongje brought the cake himself, but he clearly didn't expect Juntae to go all out.

There is a tune that wants to escape Juntae's lips - a song everyone is used to hearing on their birthdays. But would Seongje appreciate it? Unlikely. But he can't keep his smile from appearing.

"You look insane," voices Seongje, but he mirrors Juntae's bewildered expression. "I mean, all these candles create shadows on your face. It looks insane, but you know I like insane."

Juntae's bangs stick to his sweaty forehead, he blows a puff of air to dry them. Candles' heat doesn't help either. His fatigue is overpowering his brain, which is trying to decipher what Geum Seongje's words mean.

"Can you shut up for once and blow the candles out already?"

"Wow, you're even more insane." Seongje wiggles his eyebrows at him, and Juntae chooses to ignore the dumb remark.

All the years of bullying finally paid off, he thinks.

And then a sinful act occurs right in front of Juntae's face, right in front of the cake, which doesn't deserve this level of disrespect. He is not going to let it slide. "Are you serious?"

"Huh?" Seongje makes a stupid expression with his stupid wide-open eyes. "Did I miss something?"

"You're supposed to make a wish! That's what the candles are for. You're hopeless."

"Oops, my bad. Have never done this before."

If Seongje is observant, Juntae is quicker to recognize emotions and feelings. The boy is smirking, putting up a nonchalant act. "I'm a tough guy and nothing fazes me" type of guy. Yet, Juntae notices a slight drop in Seongje's shoulders, just a little bit. If he blinked, it would've gone unnoticed. Seongje fixes his glasses with his index finger when there is no need to do so. There is a slight tremor in his body as he takes a huge gulp of air.

"I will light them up again, and you'd better make a wish this time," says Juntae and sets the cake on the coffee table. "I need to grab a lighter."

Before he has time to head towards the kitchen, Seongje grips his shoulder and pulls out his own lighter. "We can use mine."

When Juntae reaches for it, their fingers touch. He senses his skin absorbing the cold. Seongje's hand is freezing.

"What's this?" he asks and points at Juntae's thumb, lifting it closer for a better view.

"Oh, this? I burned it earlier. Nothing serious, it doesn't even hurt anymore. Can we get back to the cake?" Juntae pulls his hand away from his grasp.

"No, we cannot. Do you have any ointment or a bandaid, at the very least?"

Juntae lets out a drawn-out groan and slams the lighter on the table. "You do it then."

When he gets back to the living room with a first-aid kit, the cake is ready for a wish. He glances at the wall clock above the couch. Five minutes left before Geum Seongje's birthday.

"I had no idea I'm turning thirty-one. The more you know, right?" Seongje sounds rather solemn.

He doesn't entertain the boy with a response. Instead, Juntae drags him by his forearm and pushes him onto the couch.

"Hey, hey, hold your horses. Take a dude on a date first. I know I look easy, but show some decency, my god!"

"Just stay still. I need to put bandaids on these cuts." Juntae presses his finger onto Seongje's cheek, making him yelp in pain. "See? They won't heal like that. Did you wash them?"

Seongje's pout is not an answer in Juntae's book, so he pokes his cheek one more time.

"Ouch, yes, yes. I did wash them. You're so mean to me, baby." He turns to Juntae and leans closer.

"You don't have to be this close."

"No, actually, I do. What if you stick it to the wrong cheek? What then, hm?"

Juntae cannot name the feeling simmering inside. On one hand, all this teasing irritates like an allergic rush would. On the other hand, Juntae wants to witness what would happen if he plays along, if he talks back, and stuns Seongje.

Juntae quickly deals with Seongje's cuts, and when the latter takes his hand to examine the burn, he snatches it back and puts the bandaid on it himself.

"We have 30 seconds left. Come on, make a wish!" Juntae lifts the cake to Seongje's face and looks up at him, eyes twinkling with joyful expectation.

It doesn't matter whose birthday it is - everyone deserves a wish, a dream, and something sweet on their special day. However, Seongje is a special person as well. He helped Juntae after all. That is a fact he can't continue denying.

Seongje's eyes are closed, and his fingers are intertwined against his chest. He softly whispers something - Juntae can't catch exactly what he says - and the candles flutter under his breath. The chocolate drips slowly off the sides of the cake. And Juntae can't take his eyes off Geum Seongje. Maybe, if he didn't know Seongje and how cruel and heartless he can be, he would've fallen in love with the way his eyelashes tremble, how focused he seems, and how wrinkles form between his eyebrows. Maybe he would. Somehow, somewhere, someplace.

But tonight, he's just a guy Seongje happens to know.

Chapter Text

Seongje's lighter is still on the table he left during his impromptu visit. And Juntae lets it collect dust. Moving it would feel like shattering the memory, which had taken the form of a blurry dream.

It's been a month since Geum Seongje's birthday. Thirty days since Juntae last saw him. He doesn't know what he is supposed to do. Was it a one-time occasion? Does Seongje do this often and dissipate like a morning fog?

Juntae keeps looking over his shoulder whenever he's outside - be it at school or his abomination of a part-time job. No signs of the Ganghak high school troublemaker. He cringes at the thought of wanting to be stalked by Seongje, to be sought for. Sane people don't wish to be followed. Maybe Juntae is insane, then. Seongje is the guy everyone hates to be around and fears making eye contact with. You don't even have time to flinch before Seongje's heavy punch lands in the middle of your face, and your nose explodes with stinging pain.

For some unexplainable reason, Juntae is sure Seongje would never hurt him. He can't help the smug smile from appearing on his face every time he thinks about it. Having this kind of power over the guy everybody is afraid of is exhilarating, divine.

It feeds Juntae's ego, and he knows he shouldn't feel this way - delusional and quite honestly, ridiculous. Embarrassing. Seongje might just pity him, taking into account how weak and defenseless he is when it comes to fighting. Maybe he finds beating Juntae up a waste of his time. He looks punchable, but it quickly gets boring. At least this is what his good old bullies used to tell him. Juntae agrees with the sentiment. There isn't much to gain from teasing and making fun of him.

"What's on your mind?" asks Sieun, when they're outside of the school at the court to play basketball. "You've been distracted lately."

He throws the ball to Gotak, who looks perplexed by the strength Juntae used and shoots him a thumbs-up before running to Baku, dribbling the ball.

"I'm fine," says Juntae, but it comes off a little high-pitched, fake. He clears his throat and adds. "Really. You don't have to worry."

Sieun silently accepts the answer. He doesn't press further, but his eyes never lie as he doesn't seem very convinced. Nevertheless, he lets it go. Juntae shoots him a smile, grateful for not forcing him to open up. He considers Yeon Sieun his best friend. Although Sieun doesn't know it. Juntae is not going to tell him that any time soon.

They end up skipping the last class, much to Sieun's disapproval, but he stays despite shaking his head and calling them all irresponsible.

"Don't fret, ice princess. Gotak's gonna order pizza. You don't want to miss out on pizza, do you?" Baku says, laying down his school uniform jacket on the grass to sit. "This picnic is about to be awesome! I bought soda this morning. The cooler broke at the store, so it's warm. Disgusting, I know, I know, but we have nothing else, so…"

"Bastard, when did I say that? Order it yourself. I've got less than a thousand won to my name." Gotak shows the emptiness of his pockets for a stronger visual representation of his financial state and sits right on top of Baku's belly, making the latter yelp. "I'm not your sugar daddy, Park Humin."

They wrestle and tussle around, all while Juntae and Sieun sit nearby, watching them grunt and struggle on the grass. Juntae notices how Sieun simply sighs and opens the delivery app.

"Can you order three? I'll chip in. I'm hungry." Juntae looks at the phone.

"It's on me."

Gotak pinches Baku's inner thigh as he laughs like a total maniac. Baku prepares for a counterattack, cracking his knuckles, but Juntae is having none of it today. He pours the remaining water he had in his bottle on both of them, as though they're cats, who won't stop fighting and tearing each other's fur. They finally break away from each other, water dripping from their hair.

"You're making too much noise. What if the teachers hear us? You don't want another detention, do you? They will make us clean the restrooms like the last time, and I wasn't even the one breaking the rules! You two need to get it together, or Sieunie and I will NOT share any pizza with you. Not a single slice, mark my words."

"You're so mean, Juntae-ya," sulks Gotak, taking a seat on the bench. He winks at them both. "You two are lucky you're cute."

"Ah, yes, I dare you to call Sieun like this when Suho's around," says Baku, and cheekily looks over at Sieun.

Of course, Sieun is not amused. "Park Humin, how many times do I have to tell you there's nothing between us."

"And how many times do I gotta prove you wrong. You're so smart, Siuen-ah, but oh so oblivious." Baku pats him on the shoulder like a disappointed father and turns his attention to Juntae. "Speaking of crushes and puppy love, Mr. Seo, you've been acting suspicious. Very suspicious, I dare add. Don't be shy, who's the lucky girl? Do we know her?"

It hurts from just how high Juntae rolls his eyes as Baku wiggles his eyebrows at him, pursing his lips and imitating kissing sounds. He aims the empty bottle he has in his hand at Baku's head and throws. He easily dodges, chuckling.

Baku is pretty annoying, but also too adorable to be angry with for too long. It's his charm, his talent. If it were any other person, Juntae might find him obnoxious, stupid even. Yet, whatever Baku does and says is stinkingly cute. Absolutely no one has the heart to hate him. Even the teachers, despite Baku's loud, care-free demeanor, have a soft spot for him. Half of the school has a crush on the guy (Go Hyuntak too, but Juntae is not a snitch, and no secret crushes are going to be exposed on his watch).

"There's no girl," replies Juntae, and a second later whispers more to himself than anyone, "and no guy…"

Sieun perks up at the words - gaze showing the signs of curiosity - being the one sitting close enough to hear the last sentence. Still, he doesn't utter a single question.

Baku's amateur investigation comes to an end with the arrival of the delivery guy.

"Any food tastes a hundred times better when eaten outside," groans Gotak as he bites into his slice and follows the statement with a long moan.

Sieun doesn't bat an eye, whereas Juntae just nods in agreement, mouth full of hot heaven that is a mushroom pizza. Baku turns red. Silence settles in comfortably, only interrupted by the chewing sounds - mainly from Baku, who can't, for the love of god, keep his mouth closed.

Juntae eats while observing his friends. His mind swirls with impossible ideas; they run through his thoughts, not allowing him to swat them away like fruit flies. What if Seongje was one of them? What if instead of enrolling in Ganghak, he were to attend Eunjang? Would they have crossed paths? Would they have become friends or the complete opposite - Seongje turning into one of his many bullies? Although he wouldn't mind being his target, no matter how crazy it sounded. As long as he gets to be Geum Seongje's object of attention. Only him. Until he eventually gets bored.

Juntae shakes his head, shuddering at the thought.

What is wrong with me?

He glances at his friends. Will they be ok with him possibly being infatuated with no other than Seongje? That Seongje. Will they call him all sorts of names if he confesses his desires? Juntae is not a fortune teller, so the only way to find out is to ask, to test the waters.

"Have you seen Geum Seongje? You know, since the fight with the Union?"

All three pairs of eyes peer into him. Gotak frowns mid-chew.

"What? Why are…" Baku swallows, nearly choking on the pizza crust. "No, I haven't. Why are you asking?"

Juntae averts his eyes under Baku's intense stare and shrugs, trying to make it come off as nonchalant as possible. "Just curious, that's it. Saw a couple of students wearing Ganghak's uniforms at my job yesterday."

"Did they say something to you? Did they bother you or what?" Gotak moves closer to him, clearly concerned. "Just tell me how they look, and I'm going to beat their asses up."

"No, no, how could they even know me? They just reminded me of him."

Baku seems convinced, but Gotak - not so much, his eyes narrow. Sieun stays silent, just crossing his arms over his chest.

Juntae is not ready to tell them what happened between him and Seongje. He's not ready to share the precious memories of spending time together with the boy, his friends would love to have a chat with. With hits and kicks.

"Well, I haven't seen the backstabber, but I've definitely heard some worrying rumors," Baku breaks the uncomfortable air between them.

"What rumors?" asks Sieun this time.

"Yeah, what did you hear?" Gotak chimes in, he, too, invested in the story.

"The boss of the Union, some mysterious rich man, wanted Geum Seongje to step in and oversee their activity, but he rejected the offer. The Union hasn't been the same ever since... ever since Baekjin passed away."

"And?" Juntae doesn't like what Baku's implying.

"Maybe that's why we haven't seen the guy lately? That's just my theory," Baku shrugs and scratches his forehead. The topic is still heavy for him, even if he tries to mask his grief.

It isn't the answer Juntae wants to hear. Yet, it makes sense. Na Baekjin died. The police ruled it out as a suicide, but everyone knew it wasn't the case. So Seongje's disappearance shouldn't be a surprise, especially if he didn't follow the boss's orders. Juntae's stomach drops at the thought of Seongje lying somewhere, dead. His lifeless body rotting and decomposing.

He looks over at the unopened box of the last pizza on top of Sieun's backpack. A decision forms. Before he even realizes he's standing on his feet, his heart racing as if it wants to jump out of his chest. He grabs the box and shoves it in his bag, all while his friends follow his frantic movements, too taken aback and bewildered.

"I gotta go, see you tomorrow, guys," he says and runs, not even looking back, when they scream his name in confusion.

An hour later, taking deep breaths and composing himself, Juntae stands before the tall doors. They look the same, just like how they were before - rusty, but somehow sturdy and frightening. He hears a commotion going on inside, loud laughter, and sounds of someone falling on the ground with a muffled grunt. He gulps. Maybe Juntae shouldn't do what he is about to do in a minute. He counts under his breath. It doesn't help with the nerves, though.

Thirty-five.

Thirty-six.

Thirty-ni-

He stumbles over his words. And the count begins right from the start again.

One, two, three…

…sixty.

At last, he knocks, cursing himself and his endless stupidity. But he isn't going to back down now. No. Juntae clenches Seongje's lighter, which he has put in the pocket of his jacket. It feels like it's heating his palm, as if warning him, urging him to turn around and leave. Still, he doesn't budge, doesn't move a single centimeter.

Seongje called him a romantic, but maybe, just maybe, he's more of an obsessed lunatic instead. Juntae doesn't smoke; he hates the smell and the way it burns the throat and stings the lungs. This is a different kind of addiction. The addiction is called Geum Seongje. Otherwise, how can he explain what he's doing right now?

"Your pizza's here," Juntae yells, banging the door harder this time.

The doors to Daesung bikes open with an unpleasant screech that disturbs the usually quiet neighborhood.

Chapter Text

"We didn't order anything," says one of the four boys, fixing the bloodied collar of his school shirt, which sticks to his skin.

They're all staring at Juntae, as if waiting to pounce at any given opportunity. Just give a tiny reason to. The staring game a predator plays with its prey. And Juntae isn't planning on becoming one any time soon. He feels a shiver run down his spine.

Juntae doesn't have any idea what to come up with. His 'pizza delivery guy' excuse seems to work only for a short-lived moment. Say he must've mixed up the addresses, and bolt out of here? Blurt out a half-hearted apology and run without looking back, while hoping they don't snatch him back? Then, what's the point of coming all the way here?

"You had such a loud, commanding voice back there. What's wrong now? Cat got your tongue, little guy?"

Laughter unpleasantly fills the room. Juntae manages to control the urge to roll his eyes. Maybe he'd get intimidated by them not too long ago, before he learned to stand up for himself. But nowadays these teens pretending to be adults make his skin crawl with disgust. Clearly, leaving now would be a waste of opportunity. Lying wouldn't make sense either. Juntae braces himself as he mentally prepares to speak up.

"You're right. It's not your order," he announces, as his eyes dart around the corners of the room. Although it's more of an unkempt garage than a room. Looks like someone doesn't bother to clean that often.

The guy who talked to him first raises an eyebrow. Juntae squints his eyes, racking his brain to remember any of these boys. They must be new. He doesn't recognise a single face.

Once again, Juntae scans everything, searching for any signs, hints of Seongje's whirlwind presence. He finds nothing. Just the usual Union crap - some old and new bikes, random spare parts, empty energy drink cans, scattered on the floor, all of them crushed. And of course, cheap cigarette buds. He cringes, reminiscing about their scent. At least, Seongje's got a better taste.

After pondering over the current situation for a second, Juntae comes to an unfortunate conclusion. He shouldn't have even attempted to come here, alone at that. It's a huge oversight on his part. The other boy, sitting far back, his height rivaling Baku's, looks pissed off.

"Where's Geum Seongje?" Juntae channels his inner hero (who's probably just as dumb as he's brave) to stop beating around the bush.

The boys don't have anything to say at first, stunned by the question. It's not what they expected. Even Juntae's taken aback by his own audacity. He shifts from one foot to another, getting ready to dodge punches he feels are bound to strike. Or if the front door didn't automatically lock, Juntae will have to run, and by judging the boys' physiques, he won't get very far. Maybe he should've agreed to Hyuntak's offer to hit the gym together.

"I don't think you have a right to demand anything from us. Especially here. Where's Seongje, you ask? Who are you? Let's start with that."

"Why are you entertaining this loser?" voices his opinion another one, getting up from the couch. "He looks like he needs a little bit of beating, don't you agree?"

"Just answer my question. I won't bother you anymore," tries one more time Juntae, setting the pizza box on the nearest surface, which happens to be a bike. He adds as an afterthought. "Please."

He fumbles with the box till it slides off the seat. Juntae reaches out to catch it. Unfortunately, he doesn't, and the insides spill open.

"I'm really sorry! I'll clean it up!" Juntae hurries to pick the damned pizza off the floor.

Luck is never on Seo Juntae's side, because he feels himself nudging something behind him with his gigantic backpack and hears the consequences of his actions echo off the old walls. Loudly. Unhurriedly, like in slow motion.

"You piece of shit, what have you done?!"

"Fuck, someone stop it!"

The domino made of dozens of bikes is a brand new experience for all of them, Juntae included. It's akin to a silent film. One by one, they fall onto each other, scratching shiny paint, taking down whatever is in the way. Even the tall boy ends up under a huge bike - groaning in pain - after attempting to prevent further damage by holding it. Curses and swear words aren't enough to stop it. Yet, the boys keep trying their best.

Juntae can't do anything but stand there, frozen in place, observing with a horrified expression on his face. If the pizza staining the floor isn't enough, he goes ahead and destroys the bikes, one of the Union's milking cows.

What do I do now?

Juntae steps back only for a couple of centimeters, but they all notice the movement despite all the commotion going on.

"You deserve more than just a bit of beating now. Don't you dare run. I'll catch you anyway," the tall one asserts, cracking his neck, his fists slightly shaking with rage.

"If you'd just told me where Geum Seongje is, this wouldn't have happened in the first place," mutters Juntae, wanting to slap himself, too. Speaking before thinking always gets him in trouble. Yet he never learns from his own mistakes.

"Huh. How bold for someone like you. Everyone." He gestures at the others. Smirking, he adds. "Get him."

Juntae turns back swiftly and pushes the door open - it hits the wall with a loud screech. He's about to run for his life, but before he can see what's in front of him, he crashes into something warm, someone warm. Juntae's eyes meet very familiar ones. They both tumble back. Juntae only has a millisecond to put his palm over the person's back of the head to cushion the fall to the cold asphalt. Shutting his eyes, Juntae anticipates pain. Yet, it doesn't come. Instead, he feels sturdy arms wrapping around his waist - the person took all the impact from the fall.

"I came here to help you, not to get tackled." A grunt escapes from his lips. He must be in pain.

"Sieun-ah?"

"Yeah. Get off of me."

Juntae scurries away from Sieun, letting the latter take a deep breath. Sieun - who he didn't expect to be here, at Daesung bikes of all the places - gets up and dusts off the back of his pants. He looks at Juntae, wanting to say something, but his gaze falls onto the Union, then at the bikes. He assesses the situation.

"You two know each other? How convenient. More losers to play with." The tall one moves towards them, growing anger evident in each heavy step.

Sieun, too, steps forward, essentially shielding Juntae. His right hand is already nestled in the pocket of his jacket. Only Juntae knows what's inside. His other hand is held out in front of Juntae to keep him in place.

"Let us go," simply says Sieun, his voice devoid of any emotions, flat.

"Looks like we have another weakling playing a hero. Do you have a pizza for us, too?"

"Sieun-ah," whispers Juntae, grasping Sieun's sleeve. "Let's go. I don't want you to get hurt, please. Can we go?"

His friend doesn't budge. His focus is now completely dedicated to the knife one of the boys is holding. It's not big, but by the looks of it, sharp enough to cut skin. The others don't waste time either, picking up whatever can work as a weapon - a metal pipe, a wrench, and a baseball bat.

Everyone back at school made a habit of calling Juntae a scrawny pacifist, which is a different way to call him a wuss - a nickname he gets used to hearing at every corner of the school. However, in the face of a potential threat, he, like any other person with a functioning common sense, tries his best to defend himself. He frantically inspects his surroundings. A pile of bricks carelessly thrown together in a pile outside the garage catches his attention. Sieun breaks his focus to eye the brick clutched in Juntae's trembling hand and nods in approval.

The air is tense, almost suffocating, waiting for anyone to make a move first. Uncomfortable silence settles in. The only light bulb hanging off the thinnest wire in the middle of the ceiling bursts, startling everybody.

The now dim toom lights up thanks to the tall guy's phone. He curses under his breath as it rings annoyingly. He hesitates for a moment and picks it up.

"Yes. What, now? Unbelievable. Can't he wait? It won't kill him. Shit, ok. We'll be there in ten." He hangs up and throws the bat he is holding at the nearest bike. The bat ricochets off its wheel and hits the edge of the TV, the screen of which cracks open. "You're going to pay for all of it. You hear me?!"

Neither Juntae nor Sieun answers the provocation. They let the guy simmer in his own frustration.

Please leave, please just leave.

"Hey, what are you doing it for?" asks Juntae when the one with a knife takes a photo of them, not even trying to be discreet about it.

"To make it easier to find you later and beat the living shit out of you. Or did you think I'll let it slide? How cute of you."

The group walks past them, pushing them away from the entrance. Slowly, one by one, they disappear in the labyrinth of gray buildings. Juntae looks over to Sieun in disbelief.

What just happened?

"I'll walk you home," eventually says Sieun, and when Juntae shakes his head, refusing the kind offer, Sieun just stares at him until he begrudgingly agrees.

So they walk, Sieun in the lead and Juntae trailing behind him, lost in his thoughts. He doesn't even notice how his friend takes his backpack off his shoulders and carries it along with his own. He is too distracted to see how Sieun is limping a little bit.

It takes approximately ten minutes for Juntae to calm his nerves to ask the question that has been burning in the back of his throat.

"How did you know I was there?"

"I followed you." Straight to the point.

Another stalker to add to my collection, he thinks, smiling to himself.

"Oh," Juntae voices, not surprised, but he's not mad per se. "Thank you for coming… And I'm sorry for putting you in danger."

"I did nothing. We got lucky, that's it." Sieun makes a sharp turn onto the street where Juntae's apartment building is located. Its plastic windows reflect the sun that is about to set. The city turns bloody orange. A dog barks at them from one of these windows. Usually, Juntae would coo at it, but today's events have drained him.

"Why aren't you asking me why I went to Daesung bikes?" His curiosity, which looms in the air around, gets the best of him.

"If you wanted to, you'd tell me." He abruptly stops in his tracks and hands Juntae his backpack. "We're here. I'll see you tomorrow at the school gates. Make sure to get there safely. Call me if they show up."

And with that, Sieun is ready to leave.

"Wait!" Juntae exclaims. He bites his upper lip, chewing on it harshly. He's ashamed when he says the next. "I went there because… Because I was looking for Seong- er, I mean, Geum Seongje."

Sieun takes a while to process what Juntae has just confessed to. A sigh escapes his lips. It's short, if you blink you'd miss it - but Juntae notices it anyway. His friend rarely does so. It only occurs when a difficult decision is made.

"You should've come to me instead of risking your life."

"Why to you?" Tilts his head Juntae, confused. Siuen is a man of few words, and sometimes Juntae finds it hard to understand him fully.

"I know where Geum Seongje lives."

Chapter Text

"Who are you?" The middle-aged man crossed his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes. The suit he was wearing reeked of cologne - he applied too much.

Juntae is perplexed. He shoots a confused look at Sieun.

"I think we got the wrong house," Juntae mutters.

But his friend doesn't seem fazed.

"Where's Geum Seongje?" Sieun asks, scanning him up and down.

"Fuck. Do you realize what time it is?" The man loosens his tie. "Are you his friends? Tell him to never come back again. I don't give a shit if he ends up dead in a ditch somewhere. Why should I care?"

Juntae takes note of how Sieun's jaw tenses and gently taps him on the shoulder, taking a lead in the conversation.

"No, no, we're just his classmates," he lies. "Our homeroom teacher sent us to check up on Seongje. He's been skipping classes lately. So, he's not home either?"

"No," the man deadpans. "It's not his home anymore, that's for sure."

Juntae jumps in place when the man slams the door in his face, almost hitting him in the nose. He stumbles back. What now?

He feels his blood boil with frustration. Clearly, this cranky uncle is somehow related to Geum Seongje; they look somewhat alike. But what's with the foul attitude? Perhaps Seongje had wronged him, Juntae wouldn't know. It's not an excuse to behave like that. Dead in a ditch? Really?

Sieun stands to his side, just as dumbfounded as he is.

I'm not going to back down so easily.

"Hey, sir!" Juntae kicks the door with all his might, yelling as loudly as possible. "We're not done yet! Don't you know basic manners? Open the door. Let's talk!"

It lasts for only a minute, until the guy breaks.

"What?!" he screams, peeking out the door and almost spitting on Juntae's face. He frowns at Sieun, as if it can intimidate him. Sieun shrugs in response.

"Do you want my neighbors to come? You both should go home before I make you leave."

"Just give me Seongje's phone number, and we'll leave. For good." Juntae holds the door, afraid the man might change his mind.

"Who are you? My employer? My fucking manager? I've had enough of people ordering me around," he retorts and hits the door.

"Please. Is it that hard?" Juntae doesn't want to sound rude, but the man's getting more and more insufferable. "I know you don't care about Seongje, you've made it very clear. But I care. A lot. I'll make sure to find him. You won't see him or us ever again. I promise. I'll relay your message to him. He might be in trouble. I really need to find Seongje. Sir, please."

"When he's not in trouble?" he sighs and finally gives in, shoving his phone into Juntae's hand. "Make it quick. This generation is doomed. So disrespectful. No wonder you're friends with that bastard. You'll regret it in the future, I don't doubt it."

Juntae pretends he doesn't hear his tirade; he just takes a photo of the screen with Seongje's contact lit up on it.

"Here you go, sir. Sorry for bothering you this late, and thank you."

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up." With that, the man snatches the phone back, scratching Juntae's palm, and disappears into his apartment, of course, not forgetting to shut it with all the strength he can muster.

Geum Seongje's phone is turned off. Juntae can't say he's surprised. Only a bit disappointed. The worry for Ganghak boy keeps growing exponentially, consuming all his thoughts like an insatiable monster. And still he doesn't understand why he cares so much, why he longs for Seongje.

Obviously, Seongje wouldn't be thrilled; he'd laugh, an exasperating smirk of his brightening his face. He'd call Juntae a flimsy knight on a white pony. Whereas Seongje is far from a damsel in distress. Still, Juntae desperately needs to make sure he's safe and sound. Yes, he's doing all of it for himself. For his inner peace. Not for Geum Seongje, not even in the slightest.

But Seongje's lighter burns in his pocket as if detecting his lies and denial. I hope you're not hurt. Please be ok.

"I think we should head home, Juntae-yah," suggests Sieun. "He's not picking up, is he?"

"It's unavailable," Juntae says, his shoulders dropping. He sees Sieun's tired, sleepy eyes and how he rubs them, yawning. "Yeah, you're right. By bus?"

His friend simply nods.

The bus is empty - only the two of them are looking at the city through the windows. Juntae opens of of them, letting the wind hit his palm. It's comforting in a way, like someone's holding it tight. Street lamps follow the bus and become a blurry line.

Sieun rests his head on Juntae's shoulder. He's been fighting himself the whole ride, eyelids too heavy to let him stay awake. Juntae smiles softly. His friend puts up a tough front, doesn't express his emotions much, like a tired-of-life adult would. But he's still a kid who longs for connection. Juntae's glad to have him by his side. Today's just another proof of it. Does Juntae deserve this much affection and care? He can only thank him in return.

Juntae forgot to ask him how he knew Seongje's address. I'll ask him another time, he thinks to himself, not wanting to interrupt Sieun's sweet, well-deserved nap. He yawns, smacking his lips, and lets his head gently fall onto Sieun's.

Another week passes by. No calls, no texts, no sudden visits with a cake. Juntae's going crazy. He feels like a total lunatic calling Seongje's phone every day without fail, wishing to hear him say hello, or hi, or even a crude swear word. Yet all he's met with is a lady's smooth, silky voice, saying that the number he's dialed is unavailable. Her voice haunts his dreams, taunting and making fun of his concerns.

After school, instead of going straight home or hanging out with his friends, Juntae sits on a random bench in a nearby park and calls all the hospitals in his hometown. Juntae's not sure if he wants to hear that they indeed have a patient named Geum Seongje or not. It'd be better if he didn't end up in any of them. Then he proceeds to call hospitals in other neighboring cities. One by one, Juntae crosses them off his spreadsheet. Every time a hospital worker picks up, he holds his breath and chews on the inner side of his cheek when they search Geum Seongje's name in their system.

Eventually, there are no hospitals left in the spreadsheet.

Hyuntak eyes him from time to time with a solemn expression. It seems as though he wants to say something, but right when Juntae thinks he will, he just shakes his head and ruffles Juntae's hair. Meanwhile, Baku decides to bombard him with dad jokes during recesses, coming up from behind and holding him in a headlock until he laughs at one of the jokes and taps out.

Even Suho texts him, asking him if he's ok and when they all can meet and go sing in a karaoke bar. Juntae promises they will someday.

He knows they miss him.

"I don't know what I'm doing this for," Juntae tells Sieun during a lunch break. Others don't hear them, too busy to discuss the latest basketball tournament between schools. "I don't know what I want to achieve with this."

Sieun looks up from his meal. He sets his spoon aside and gives him a faint smile.

"Me too. I don't understand why you're so adamant about finding him. But you don't have to have a reason. You're doing it because you want to, no justifications needed."

And maybe Sieun's right.

Sometimes, after his shift late at night, he walks through Seongje's neighborhood. What if he's nearby? But Juntae doesn't linger too long; the Union's threats are hot on his mind. If others knew, especially Baku, what he's been up to, they would drag him back home, back to safety.

He wants to give up. Seongje doesn't need Juntae and his attention. He doesn't need anyone in the first place. The more he searches, the more helpless and pitiful he feels. Juntae deletes the spreadsheet along with the phone number he had saved on his phone.

His chest hurt like hell. Seongje definitely won't be very surprised by a huge haematoma he will see tomorrow in a mirror, blooming right on his sternum. And a few bruises littering his tender skin. A dozen of them, actually, with cuts all over his weakened body as a special bonus. Add broken ribs to the mixture and voilà, he's ready. No need to go to a tattoo artist for a bodysuit tattoo when he has bruises on him all the time.

It is only if he makes it by tomorrow. Geum Seongje isn't a fortune teller. And never wished to be one - seeing your future, how terrifying is that?

"You pathetic fucker!" A banshee-like voice grates on Seongje's ears. "Not so scary anymore, huh? Now that your puppeteer's gone."

"Can you be any louder? Fucking noisy. I can hear you just fine. No need to squeal."

Geum Seongje is sick of people. Especially, of the guys looking down at him right now, circling him like some poor animal at the zoo.

He should've dressed up for the occasion. Some red fluffy ears and a tail to match his bloodied T-shirt. Although it's already red in color. He always preferred red. And choosing Ganghak with its maroon uniform was also because of that reasoning.

The asphalt being cold was not helping either: the downside of getting beaten up at night. The only good thing about it is that the blood looked quite beautiful under the lights of a street lamp, burning bright. And under the shadows cast by the surrounding buildings, it turns heavy black.

"Come on, finish your job, idiots," taunting for more, as though the last hour wasn't enough for his battered body.

Laughter immediately clawed its way out of his mouth once Seongje heard a round of irritated curses. He's having so much fun, it's unbelievable.

"The sky looks magical today. Wanna lie down with me and stare at it? It'd be so romantic of us."

"Why won't you pass out already? Bastard thinks he's invincible. Laugh while you can. Won't be laughing like this once you see your mom. She must be having a time of her life in hell getting fucked. Isn't it what she loved doing here, too, hm?"

Seongje doesn't respond. He heard such remarks millions of times. It's actually silly how they think it will set him off. She didn't give a flying fuck about her own son; why would he care about paying respect to her memory? She can burn in hell for all he cares.

Another kick to his stomach makes him crawl into himself. Seongje tries to keep his eyes open as wide as he can, but his condition won't let him do so. A trail of blood from his nose makes its way onto the ground, dripping slowly. He licks his busted upper lip. Grinning makes it worse as the wound stretches and stretches. It stings, but he's used to it.

A nasty hit to his head is what does the job. Seongje lets himself relax and bathe in pain. He lies on the asphalt, sprawling his limbs. His head lolls to the side. Seongje huffs and grits his teeth, fighting the urge to throw up.

Is it how I'm going to die? So boring.

In that case, no one will look for him or go as far as arranging a funeral for him. Not even his uncle. He was the only one who still had hopes for his nephew, and he went ahead and broke his trust. He probably won't even claim Seongje's body.

"Are you ready for a round two, Seongje-yah?"

Serves me right.

He passes out before hearing faint sirens in the distance.

Chapter Text

Juntae groans, stretching his arms. Today's shift was definitely the best he'd ever had. There weren't many customers, and his manager surprisingly was in a nice mood, which happens once in a blue moon. Guess, not only Juntae likes to chill during work. The manager did nothing but watch a new K-drama the whole time. Juntae glanced at his phone, wanting to ask what exactly the show is about, but the man didn't like that, and Juntae ended up doing extra work.

The sun had already disappeared between the buildings. Sometimes Juntae wishes he lived somewhere in a long-forgotten village with never-ending fields, so that he could see the sun meet the horizon. Here, in the bustling city, witnessing something like this is akin to a myth. All they get is grey buildings, grey cars with grey people, rushing to get home.

He sniffles a little and wonders if he caught a cold; the back of his throat is itching painfully. As he looks around, his face lights up with a smile.

"Baku!" He runs towards his friend, who is standing on the other side of the road. His backpack is heavy and hits his back with every step, but Juntae doesn't care.

Baku laughs at the enthusiasm and spreads his arms, asking for a hug, and Juntae's more than happy to oblige. He's so tall that Juntae gets buried in the crook of his neck, nose pressed onto the skin. It feels funny, so he giggles, nuzzling further.

"Yah! Don't spit on me, dude!" Baku yells jokingly and makes stupid faces, yet doesn't let go. "Are you hungry?"

Juntae nods eagerly. He steps away and wipes Baku's neck with the back of his hand.

"I'm not paying this time," he says, narrowing his eyes.

"Aw, what a shame, I thought I'd get away with it. Alright, alright, it's on me. I'll buy whatever you want tonight. All you do is work. Did you forget us?'

"How can I forget, when I see you every day at school?"

Baku leans on him sideways, resting his arm on Juntae's shoulder, as they walk around the block, looking for any food kiosks. Eating leftover cookies that customers couldn't finish isn't going to calm Juntae's hunger down. He's ready to eat anything as long as he feels full.

Juntae searches for the nearest place in his navigation app, but immediately stops in his tracks when Baku pulls him back from the corner of the tiny alley they're about to go through. It doesn't even deserve to be called an alley: just a narrow pass between two apartment buildings.

"Wha-"

"Shh," Baku hisses as he covers Juntae's mouth with his palm. "Look over there. Don't move, they're going to notice us. Just a little peek."

Juntae's confused. But he follows the instructions. Carefully, like a prey, he inches towards the building's corner and peeks, holding his breath. He whips his head back to Baku, concern showing in the way his brows are knit together and his chest rises unsteadily.

"It's Geum Seongje!" he whispers, worry flashing in his eyes.

Seongje's still leaning on the wall, barely standing on his feet; one small push and he'll be done for. Juntae can't believe the boy has the gall to grin from ear to ear while getting beaten up.

He's crazy.

Baku makes a small noise of acknowledgment, calm and uninterested.

"We need to do something, Baku!"

"Are we talking about the same guy? He can easily take them down in a matter of seconds," answers Baku, nonchalantly, and crosses his arms across his chest. "I think we should just go, Juntae-yah. Don't want to deal with anyone right now."

Juntae ignores him and returns to the corner.

"Ok, might as well enjoy the show." Baku lets out a sigh and sits on the curb, huffing. "If my ass becomes flat, you'll take the blame." He takes his phone out of the front pocket of his pants. "Doomscrolling it is, then."

He's on his fifth video when Juntae appears in front of him like a ghost, startling him in the process (he's been watching ghost-hunting videos), and snatches the phone out of his hand and pockets it in his own backpack in a matter of seconds.

"Hey, give it back!" he demands loudly, getting on his feet, but Juntae's single stern glare makes him purse his lips in repentance. He returns to his make-shift seat, sulking.

"I've been calling you all this time." Juntae's voice is shaking, and it doesn't go unnoticed by Baku, so his expression turns more serious. "He's not fighting back. They'll kill him."

"Why is he letting it go this far?" Baku wonders, after taking a look, too. He shakes his head and swiftly takes his jacket off, throwing it on the ground. "I need to intervene. You stay here, Juntae. Hold my bag for me."

Before he can make one single step, Juntae yanks him back by the hem of his T-shirt, and Baku nearly falls on top of him, stumbling. When Baku opens his mouth to protest, Juntae picks up the jacket, shoves it into his hands, and puts his index finger against his lips. Baku looks scandalized, ready to fuss and make a scene, but when Juntae's not smiling, it means no one should even attempt to mess with him.

"What? Don't you want me to help him?"

"I do."

"Then why did you stop me? Every minute counts," Baku retorts, and it sounds like he truly is concerned for Seongje, because he doesn't crack jokes anymore. He's frowning, too, now, mirroring Juntae's expression.

"We'll use the Sieun method," Juntae says and bends down to tie his shoelaces tighter. "How fast can you run with a weight on your back?"

"I don't know. I carried Sieun once. Remember the roof? Seongje was at the scene, too, now that I think of it, that bastard." Baku scratches his temple, lost in thought. "And what's the Sieun method anyway?"

The day has come to return the favor. Geum Seongje saved him, and now it's his turn. Of course, Juntae understands that nobody is holding the favor over his head, but the sense of debt is something he can't beat consciously. Juntae would never admit that he's doing it not only for Seongje but for himself, too. He wants Seongje to need him; he wants to be of help and have value. Perhaps it's his insecurities speaking; he'll leave the self-analysis for later.

"We just need to be fast."

Gripping his phone tighter, Juntae plays the video on the highest volume, and the chaos begins.

Chapter Text

The hospital workers insist on Seongje staying overnight for further observation.

He and Baku said they just randomly stumbled upon Seongje, found him unconscious, and brought him here. Lying feels like a heart pulsing in his chest, natural. But there's nothing natural, at least for Juntae; he hates lying, even if it's for the right cause. The head nurse doesn't believe any of their words, shaking her head, but there's no time to spare for investigation and questioning.

Seongje hasn't woken up yet, and Juntae can't help but feel more agitated as time passes by. The clock on the wall is moving slowly with no ticking sounds. Must be one of the fancy clocks offices tend to have. Somehow, it makes the time even slower, stretching across the space continuum.

Baku doesn't comment on the situation. He just throws glances at Juntae from time to time as if trying to pry answers out of him without uttering any words. Juntae doesn't budge. How can he explain his actions if he himself isn't entirely sure what his motives are? So he keeps quiet. Shrugs his shoulders if Baku's stares get too invasive, demanding. There's no supply to his demand anyway.

They wait in the hallway; its walls aren't particularly narrow, and the ceiling is pretty high, but it still feels claustrophobic.

"We should go home," Baku whispers for some reason. Maybe the atmosphere makes it difficult to speak louder. Hospitals tend to have such agonizing tranquility.

Juntae wants to stay, to throw a tantrum right here on the clean, sanitized tiles. He finally found Seongje, and now he has to leave? But what's the reasoning for staying? He's not a relative. They're not friends to begin with.

"You can come tomorrow. I'm sure he'll be awake by then. He's too stubborn not to."

Juntae doesn't disagree.

When he returns the next day, they allow him to visit Seongje. Apparently, he's woken up in the middle of the night.

Juntae pries the door open just enough to peek inside. Seongje clearly stands out from the rest of the room. He's like a single ink dot on an empty sheet of paper - sticks out too much not to pay attention to immediately. Everything's white and pristine, starting with the white walls, floor, and ceiling, and ending with just as white bedsheets. And Geum Seongje sticks out like a sore thumb. His black hair messily spilled on a pillow. Bandaids cover almost half of his face. Aside from that, he looks peaceful. Almost too calm for someone like him.

Juntae tiptoes towards the chair beside the bed. It's very early in the morning, and no commotion has started outside yet. Disturbing the quiet seems as though committing a crime.

Seongje's sleeping - at least that's what the nurse had told him earlier. His eyelashes flutter a little. For a moment, Juntae thinks he's about to open his eyes, and he jumps up from his chair, which ends up making an unpleasant screeching sound, its legs scratching the floor. To do what? He's not sure. It's a dilemma - to bolt out of the room or stay rooted in place and let the boy see him.

Juntae curses himself for the noise and bites his upper lip, expecting Seongje to wake up. But he doesn't. He exhales through his mouth, all the air he's been nervously holding in, leaving at once.

An hour passes by, and Juntae fights the urge to rest his head on the edge of the bed and let sleep take its course. He keeps dozing off, making his neck suffer as a result. Eventually, he gives up and lets his head softly hit the edge.

"And here I thought you were going to kiss me." A long yawn interrupts the sudden speech. "Playing Sleeping Beauty is no fun."

Juntae snaps his head up as soon as the words reach his ears. Seongje stares back, half-grinning, the bandaids tug at his cheeks.

"Oh… You're up." That's all Juntae manages to voice, although he's tearing at the seams to say more, to ask more. But somehow it's too much and too little at the same time.

"Why am I beaten up and you are not?" Seongje asks, scanning himself and then Juntae up and down.

Being under his scrutiny makes his cheeks dust in light pink. Usually, he can handle people boring holes in him (Cho Hyoman loved to stare him down until he apologized). Yet with Seongje it's not the same. Nothing is the same with him. Cold and unfamiliar, that's what Geum Seongje's entire existence can be described as.

"I played police sirens and they ran away," Juntae answers. He doesn't think mentioning Baku would do any good, so he intentionally omits that part of the story.

"You're smart."

"Sieunie is smart. I learned it from him." Juntae sheepishly rubs his neck, which now burns red. Damn him and his weak body, betraying him in important moments.

"Still smart," states Seongje as a matter of fact, scrunching his nose and glancing up to the ceiling. He winces and grits his teeth - probably still feeling sore all over his body, not to mention the head injury.

Juntae doesn't find the course of their conversation comfortable, so he racks his brain trying to come up with anything. Anything that doesn't involve him.

"You should drink water," he says eventually, gesturing to the nightstand. He stands up, ready to help. "Want me to hold it for you?"

"I'm good. Seems like my hands are ok." Seongje wiggles his fingers to prove a point. He reaches for a cup of water on the nightstand beside the bed, unceremoniously chucks the straw in it away, and spills a little. He manages to gulp it down so fast, Juntae's afraid he might choke. "So when can I leave?"

"You have a concussion, Geum Seongje, and were constantly throwing up at night. You need to stay under observation at least for a day. They also need to run some tests on you, in addition to what they did yesterday night. I don't know how you don't have any broken bones. Only several cuts and bruises. I thought you were going to die."

"I'm that good, what can I say?" Seongje pauses for a moment, frowning. The crease between his eyebrows deepens. "You know, maybe I do have to stay. My thoughts are jumbled. I forgot what I wanted to ask."

"Why didn't you fight back?" Juntae says under his breath and focuses on his fidgeting fingers; it's difficult not to look into the boy's eyes. "It just doesn't make sense to me."

Silence settles in as the question hangs in the air. The light reflecting off the white walls makes Juntae dizzy like blinding snow does during a sunny day.

Seongje's light grin vanishes from his face. And the teasing gleam in his eyes gets replaced by a sinister spark. Juntae nervously shuffles in his seat and bites the soft inside of his cheek. Perhaps it wasn't the right thing to mention. No matter how much he wants to avert his gaze, Seongje holds it hostage - he can't easily break away.

Lamenting, Juntae scolds himself internally: he forgot who Seongje is. As though as a continental climate, Seongje changes his mood in an instant. No warnings, no expectations. Juntae lets his guard down around him, unconsciously, and suffers the consequences afterwards.

"Don't you have classes to go to?" Seongje spits out.

"I do," Juntae mumbles and checks the time on his phone - it's still early. Maybe he can miss the first class. It's geography class, and he was planning to sleep through it anyway.

"Then go."

Whether he stays or not, Seongje's mood is spoiled regardless, and Juntae doesn't even know what he did wrong.

"Ok, make sure to listen to the nurse." A whisper reflects off the walls and echoes back to his ears; it comes off as awkward to him.

Before Juntae closes the door behind him - and he wishes he could slam it as hard as possible - he sighs and looks over to Seongje.

Apparently, the view in the window deserves more attention than Juntae does. The walls of the neighboring building do look pretty, if you consider gray bricks worth of admiration. White and gray combinations never looked this perfect.

It's Seongje who got a concussion. Then why is Juntae the one who's on the brink of vomiting all over the place? His empty stomach growls as if it overhears his inner turmoil. Acid finds its place in his mouth.

"I'll come back in the evening and bring-"

"No need," Seongje cuts in, still not even looking towards Juntae's direction.

He didn't expect grandiose words of gratitude, but whatever happened there in the hospital room wasn't what he was looking forward to. A nasty thought crosses Juntae's mind as he stomps away from the hospital.

I should've left him there yesterday to die.

Immediately, he stops and shudders. Juntae glares at his feet, horrified by his own mind. Maybe he's not a good person after all.

Or it's Seongje rubbing off on him.

Chapter Text

"I thought you wouldn't come back," Seongje says, not looking at Juntae, his gaze set on the cigarette between his fingers instead.

The cigarette's ember colors the skin of his palm, but it doesn't reach any further - a shadow on his face is too strong.

Juntae's hand clumsily wanders on the wall until it finds the light switch. Now the room loses its dim atmosphere; white paint greets Juntae once again.

"You shouldn't smoke here."

"I don't care." Seongje flashes him a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

Juntae anticipates that answer, but he tries anyway. "It makes me dizzy." He pinches his nose while breathing through his mouth.

Setting the grocery bag down he's been holding this whole time, Juntae is about to leave, but Seongje's laughter stops him in his tracks. Juntae watches as he throws the butt of the cigarette into the trash bin, not worrying if the medical workers might find it, and opens the window, inviting the evening wind in.

"You're amusing, Eunjang," Seongje says in a low voice and gestures towards the bag on the chair. "And what's that, a bomb?"

"Fruits," Juntae answers, but doesn't rush to unpack the bag.

"Thanks, I guess, but I'm not going to rot here any longer, so you can take them back."

A heavy sigh involuntarily escapes from Juntae's lips. Dealing with Geum Seongje or even having a simple conversation with him drains Juntae. It's as though negotiating with a wall, except that the wall is a moody teenager who thinks he's a cool villain in a coming-of-age story.

Where's the Seongje, who brought a cake to eat with me?

"Where will you go then?"

Juntae sees the hesitation to reply in Seongje's eyes as he freezes in the midst of stretching. That man, whom he and Sieun met, clearly doesn't want to do anything with Seongje, whether it's his dad or uncle, or literally anyone for that matter, it wouldn't make a change. And strangely, Juntae feels a stab of protectiveness overcome his critical thinking.

"You surely can't stay at your usual place, can you?" Juntae crosses his arms over his chest. "And the Union is not an option. Do you have any other place in mind?"

"What's it to you, huh? One hour, if not less, spent together, gives you the right to act like this?" Seongje spits back, but the grin is still present. Laughter erupts. "You're so fucking clingy it's disgusting."

Seongje doesn't notice how Juntae flinches at the last words. They echo in his mind, evoking all the deeply buried grudges and insecurities. But Juntae grits his teeth and inhales slowly to keep himself from snapping or worse - breaking down in front of him. He's been told he's an ugly crier before - Juntae doesn't want to hear it again. His throat burns, aching for the emotions building up inside him to explode. Yet, Juntae doesn't let it happen.

"You can stay with me," he says instead.

Seongje's pretentious laughter dies down. A confusion appears in his narrowed eyes, but it vanishes as soon as he puts his guard back on again. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it, frowning. Juntae's never seen him at a loss for words. It's almost funny.

"Why?"

"Because I have a spare bedroom."

"No. Why would you do that? We're not friends." Seongje tilts his head.

"I don't have to explain myself, do I? Especially to you." Juntae stares back even more intently, challenging Seongje to question him further. "You know where I live. I have to go now."

Juntae rummages through his bag, while Seongje continues to stay quiet, as if waiting for another shoe to drop. But nothing of sorts occurs.

"Here. It's a key to my apartment, and the chip for the main gate. The security will let you in if you have a chip." Juntae shoves the key into Seongje's hand, rather harshly - maybe he even left a scratch on it. However, nothing indicates it on Seongje's face.

"Where are you going?" Seongje asks, gripping the key hard.

"Work. See you at home. If not, you can drop the key anytime. It's a spare one anyway. Also, there's leftover food in the fridge."

Juntae leaves before Seongje says anything.

His coworkers are nice. The food they get is quite nice, too. Although you can hardly count desserts as a proper meal, at least they get to eat them for free. Within the limited amount, of course. That's the only benefit Juntae can say about his part-time job. But it's the most convenient of all options he has. Not that there is a plethora of them to begin with.

Juntae's aware that, for the most part, jobs aren't meant to be enjoyable (with a few exceptions), especially for a high schooler like him.

He doesn't have to work: there is food on his table and clothes he can rotate often. But Juntae wants to work - as simple as that. His parents don't bat an eye, just say he needs to learn to be frugal with his own money.

For the first time in forever, Juntae doesn't mind having absentee parents.

Ever since he was a kid, they treated him as an investment, a trophy. And when Juntae didn't reach the threshold of their expectations, all the looming pressure suddenly was gone, dropped like a hot potato. His parents devote their whole life to work and finances; maybe there isn't any devotion left in them for their own son. Juntae has come to live with it.

They promise to pay for the tuition fee of any university of his choice, but Juntae prefers to have a safety cushion just in case. A kid Juntae is a liability, whereas an adult Juntae might turn into a burden.

Even if Juntae were as smart as Sieun, they wouldn't be satiated. Always wishing for more. Perhaps disappointing his parents early on isn't so bad as he thinks it is.

Juntae wipes a table for the third time because a customer complains about the unwipable stains, while hitting it almost twenty times. Maybe he's having a bad day. The barista, another employee, Juntae is the closest with, whispered to him how he's scared the customer would destroy it, sending the table off its legs to another dimension with his fists.

The blame falls on Juntae regardless. Their boss isn't in the mood tonight, either. If Juntae can guess, he'd probably bet the boss is unhappy 364 days a year - that's how rare it is to have him not yelling at Juntae with spit flying in all existing directions, and that includes Juntae's face.

Surprisingly, the pay is fairly good, despite the shortcomings. So Juntae keeps his mouth zipped.

By the time his shift ends, Juntae's eyes are barely open.

"Are you coming?" he screams to one of the waiters, who has been in the restroom for more than 10 minutes.

"Ugh…" a groan followed by a reply in a strained voice, "I think I'll be here for a while. You should go. I can lock everything up by myself."

Juntae throws his head back, laughing out loud. His eyes are still closed as he wipes his tears off his cheeks. He lets the door softly close with a soft click behind him.

"I've never seen you laugh like this."

Juntae fixes his glasses to see clearly - it doesn't really help, but it's a habit of his. He's not even startled this time. Perhaps he's just too tired to have any reaction.

Juntae holds his hand out, palm facing up. When nothing follows, he clears his throat and throws a look at his hand again.

"What, want to hold hands this badly? You should speak up then." Seongje grabs him by the wrist, pulling Juntae closer and intending to intertwine their fingers, but Juntae manages to break free with a scowl on his face. He takes a step back.

"I was asking for my key. Isn't that why you're here?"

"Nope," Seongje lifts the biggest travel bag Juntae has ever seen off the ground. "I'm moving in."

"I didn't say it's going to be for more than a day. Actually, I didn't even mention a time frame. Did you pack all your belongings in that or what?" Juntae points at the bag accusingly.

"Pretty much."

Juntae doesn't like it when people sigh excessively, but he might be a hypocrite with the number of sighs he himself lets out today.

"I've heard you messed with the Daesung bikes. Very brave and unwise of you, Eunjang. You know they like to hunt," Seongje says while reaching into his pocket and fetching a pack of cigarettes, but as soon as his eyes land on Juntae, he shoves it back.

"Does it mean you're walking me home, Geum Seongje? Are you worried they could ambush me?" Juntae smirks, but it comes off more like an eager smile than a teasing grin, so he quickly schools his expression.

Seongje shrugs and gestures at the sidewalk like a greeter. "Show the way, homeowner."

"As if you don't know where I live, stalker," retorts Juntae.

Seongje knows where he lives, knows where he works, hell, even has the key to his place. And he has already been there once. Yet, for some reason, Juntae is not scared. Should he be concerned? Worried? Or at the very least, cautious? Juntae doesn't know. Tomorrow, when he's not exhausted, when he has breakfast, he will try to understand what's going on in his own mind.

But tonight, he lets it be.

So they walk home - Juntae looking anywhere but at Seongje, and Seongje fidgeting to smoke, but trying to control himself.

Chapter Text

It feels like deja vu - Geum Seongje being in his apartment. Strange.

But this time he's going to stay the night. Or nights, plural; Juntae doesn't know yet. Does he regret acting on impulse and speaking before thinking when he offered Seongje the accommodations? Perhaps, a little. However, fretting about it is useless because it's a habit of his to overthink and regret his choices regardless of the outcome.

Juntae hears the shower running and the image of Seongje standing there naked floods his restless mind. Before it starts the second act, he slaps himself on the cheek.

"Ouch," he sucks air through his teeth, rubbing the reddening skin. He miscalculated.

It is hard to admit, but Juntae acknowledges that Geum Seongje is attractive. The way his lips stretch in a grin, the way his eyes gleam with anticipation and hunger for entertainment. It should scare Juntae off; it should be off-putting. Yet, it isn't.

Juntae gave up long ago on trying to understand himself and the motives that drive his actions.

Going with the flow, it is then.

Shrugging, he stuffs his mouth with a microwaved sandwich.

The clock strikes nine.

"Is there anything left for me?" Seongje appears beside Juntae, standing close.

Too close.

Juntae half-heartedly gestures towards the second sandwich on the table, which is clearly in Seongje's view.

The water from Seongje's wet hair drips onto Juntae's neck, and he shudders, almost choking on his last bite.

"There is a hair dryer in the bathroom. Why didn't you use it?"

"Too much work."

He sounds just like Baku, so Juntae rolls his eyes - it becomes his habit of sorts with Seongje somewhere in proximity.

After he takes a shower himself and makes sure every strand of his hair is drier than a desert (unlike someone else's), he faces another obstacle. Where will Seongje sleep? Well, calling it an obstacle is an exaggeration on Juntae's part.

Being a people pleaser has to be ingrained deep in him, running in his veins, because he finds himself changing the sheets of his bed. He even goes as far as to fluff the pillow and set a water bottle onto the nightstand. Juntae grabs his own blanket and a spare pillow, his face fully buried in them, and trudges off to the living room.

As he settles onto the couch, huffing and puffing, Seongje emerges from the kitchen, stretching like a cat. He looks comfortable, domestic. Overtly so. Something stirs in Juntae's chest, and his face warms.

"We're sleeping here?" asks Seongje, not even slightly fazed by the ridiculous question that comes out of his mouth.

"I'm sleeping here," Juntae corrects him and points twice at his own chest for emphasis, "and you are going to my room."

"Letting me into your space this early on, huh?"

Juntae doesn't entertain him further.

Seongje, despite smirking and looking like he wants to talk more, finally leaves him alone. And Juntae feels like he can breathe again.

He lies on the couch, staring at the ceiling, dimly illuminated by the faint light coming through the window. The sleep doesn't deem Juntae worthy. The thoughts in his mind are a whirlwind, won't let him go. Every time Juntae feels the heaviness in his eyelids, he gets jolted awake by his inner voice.

Should he keep Seongje being here a secret? The fewer people who know, the safer it is for both of them. Juntae winces at the mere thought of having to deal with the Union, too. Seongje said they like to hunt. As much as he wishes it wasn't true, he is right - Juntae needs to always be on high alert.

Is this what Seongje has to live with every day? Wary of anything and everything? Is he even scared, or does the thrill and adrenaline outweigh the survival instinct? So many questions, but few answers.

Juntae doesn't see the appeal in such a life. Even if his own life is boring, uneventful, and basic, Juntae is content, and that's what matters the most. But ever since Geum Seongje reappeared, the calm river turned into a mountain stream. Juntae can't do anything but come to terms with it.

He forces his eyes shut as a last attempt to fall asleep. If he doesn't, he'd spend all night gawking at his phone like a zombie, and tomorrow he'd regret it greatly.

The steady sound of a car's engine outside lulls Juntae into a daze. The tension in his muscles decreases little by little. He begins to drift off.

At first, Juntae thinks he's mishearing things.

But the light footsteps followed by the floor creaking take him out of the trance almost instantly. His eyes fly open, and he instinctively puts his arms in front of his face, protecting it.

"I thought you were sleeping."

Juntae peeks through one eye. There is a tall figure leaning over him.

He can barely tell, but it's Seongje.

Sighing, Juntae sits up rigidly. His head would have almost hit Seongje in the jaw if the latter hadn't moved on time.

"Don't," says Juntae as he sees him reaching for the light switch.

Instead, he turns on the flashlight on his phone. It's not that good of a light source, but enough for Juntae to see what's in front of him, who is in front of him.

Seongje stands there, shoulders slumped, yawning as though it's him who got woken up. The T-shirt and shorts Juntae gave him earlier look ridiculously tight on him. Juntae fears he can't wear them again, they got stretched. Seongje's hair is messy, each strand having a mind of its own. Bird nests would be jealous.

"What are you doing?" Juntae points the flashlight at him.

It makes Seongje squint, frowning, and he covers his eyes with his hand. Juntae fights the sudden urge to laugh. He looks like an ordinary boy.

He is an ordinary boy, Juntae realizes.

All this time, he painted Geum Seongje as a danger, something unknown and out of reach. Someone who shouldn't be messed with. But in reality, he's just like him, Seo Juntae, - living and breathing, with his own baggage of flaws and issues. A boy.

"I don't sleep well in unfamiliar places."

"And you decided to come here for what exactly?" Juntae knows he sounds cranky, but who wouldn't in the middle of the night?

"I don't know." Seongje takes a seat on the armchair beside the couch.

They fall into comfortable silence. The only thing they share is air; Juntae breathing with wick inhales, and Seongje- slow and steady.

They are not supposed to match. Yet they do.

"Thank you."

Juntae's head whips around toward Seongje. His eyes widen comically, but Seongje doesn't notice it due to the way Juntae placed his phone. His face mainly remains in the shadow.

Seongje doesn't glance at him even once, his gaze set on his knuckles, which he's been cracking since he sat down. Juntae wants to tell him to stop, that it is one of the sounds he finds unpleasant. Rather than verbalising it, he reaches over and pats Seongje's forearm.

"You're welcome."

Before going back into Juntae's bedroom, Seongje looks over his shoulder at the threshold.

"You're not afraid of me, are you?"

The answer is easy, with no hesitation.

"No," Juntae smiles.

Seongje's smile doesn't reach his eyes.

Morning arrives, and Juntae doesn't find Seongje in his bed. Nor does he find him the apartment altogether. There is no note left on the fridge and no text. But Juntae doesn't panic or worry. Seongje's bag and clothes are still in the corner of the bedroom. He even forgot his glasses on the bathroom sink beside the pink toothbrush Juntae gave him yesterday (he doesn't have any in another color). he wonders if Seongje wears them for his eyesight or just as a statement piece.

It's unusual to see someone else's belongings in the space Juntae is used to being the only one in. However, it's not unwelcome. Yet.

Juntae knows not to let his guard down, just in case. Years of being targeted by bullies taught him that - a lesson learned by getting kicked and punched. Juntae is weak, he knows, but not dumb, not at all.

The bed is made, and clothes are folded. Juntae is taken aback by how neat and tidy everything is. Seongje keeps surprising him.

Maybe I should ask him to clean the apartment as rent.

Juntae smirks at the thought and imagines Seongje, the Union menace, vacuuming, mopping the floors, and dusting while singing. It's absurd, but Juntae wouldn't mind witnessing it.

Juntae feels like they're on the thin border, and crossing to the other side would make them friends. He likes the idea, but would Seongje allow it? Everything is vague and blurry when it comes to him. Juntae doubts he'd be down.

Juntae shoves the idea far, far away. He will be late to school if he continues daydreaming - he'd always been scolded for doing so by his homeroom teacher.

He leaves a sticky note for Seongje on the kitchen table.

Chapter Text

The door makes a soft clicking sound behind Juntae, who has just returned. He couldn't even check the time on the way home - his phone's battery had given out hours ago.

That's what I get for giving my power bank to Gotak. I wonder if he has already lost it.

Juntae takes his shoes off as quietly as possible. It must be way past midnight. The hallway is too dark to make out the hands of the wall clock; there is only that ever-present ticking sound. It used to annoy Juntae before, but now it reminds him that time is moving and fills the silence, which has found its place here after his parents left the country.

"You're late."

The voice makes Juntae instinctively jump back, clutching his chest. The hallway lights up, forcing him to shut his eyes in discomfort. A second later, Juntae peeks from one eye, squinting. Seongje stands in front of him in one of Juntae's most favorite T-shirts (he had given him a different one yesterday), fingers still on the light switch. Juntae sighs, setting his bag onto the floor.

"I said you're late," Seongje states again as if Juntae didn't hear the first time.

"Yes? I left you a note, though." Juntae's eyes finally adapt to the brightness.

"It could've been a text."

"I deleted your number."

Slowly tilting his head, Seongje makes a show of staring him down, observing. His expression is blank. Juntae shifts from one foot to another.

"Where did you get it?" asks Seongje at last.

Juntae is tired. First, his friend and now his new so-called roommate have decided it's a perfect time for interrogations. At least, he managed to escape from Hyuntak earlier in the cafe, but Seongje is literally in his apartment, in his clothes - that he doesn't remember giving permission to wear - and he's not going anywhere any time soon. Juntae is not in the mood for late-night conversations.

"I have my ways," he shortly replies, moving past Seongje, their shoulders brushing.

The kitchen is much cleaner than how he left it in the morning: the dishes are done, the table is wiped, and the breadcrumbs from the toast Juntae had and has been too lazy to clean up are gone. He feels Seongje's gaze burning on his back.

"You don't work today," Seongje says, and it sounds more like a statement rather than a question.

Of course, he knows my schedule, Juntae thinks, but he's not mad. On the contrary, it gives him a weird sense of security. I'm definitely going crazy. Being stalked makes me feel safe? Totally crazy.

"I hung out with my friends," Juntae says, his tone turns sharper, "you know them very well."

Seongje shrugs and swiftly snatches Juntae's phone, which he has just placed on the table. Juntae is not fast enough to react.

"Hey, give it back!"

Seongje ignores him, typing something up on the phone, a wide grin plastered on his face. Juntae attempts to take it back, encroaching and pushing Seongje to the wall, but Seongje just lifts the phone higher. The stupid smirk doesn't leave his lips. Juntae mutters a curse, damn him and his height. Seongje proceeds to type with one hand raised in the air, while pushing Juntae's head away. He even dares to flick his forehead twice, cackling maniacally.

"Gotta drink more milk, baby," he teases.

"How do you even know my password?"

"I'm observant," he says, "you need to change it, Eunjang. Even a newborn can guess it."

"Geum Seongje!"

Juntae pokes Seongje's sides, going as far as to tickle him, but the bastard doesn't budge.

"Seongje." Juntae's gaze hardens, no longer playful.

It reminds him of his bullies. The situation. The pose - hands holding something that belongs to him - be it a book, his backpack, or glasses - out of his reach. It's fun, it's harmless, but not for Juntae. The humiliation he used to experience made him want to tear his skin off, crawl out of his own body, and run where the laughter doesn't boom loudly in his ears.

His eyes begin to sting, but he blinks the unshed tears away.

He's not them, he's not them, he's not them, he repeats to himself, but his restless mind adds, but what if he is one of them? Or will become one when he won't find you useful anymore? What then?

As if nothing had happened, Seongje hands him the phone, stepping to the side.

"I saved my number," he says.

Juntae lowers his head, stiffening. He doesn't want him to see the redness on his face. The tears were gone, but his glassy eyes could easily betray him.

"Good night," Juntae mutters and hurriedly runs off to the bathroom, leaving Seongje with his smirk slowly fading, bewildered.

When they all sit outside the school after the classes, Hyuntak offers him chocolate milk and apologizes for bothering him yesterday. To be honest, it didn't bother Juntae that much. After all, his friend was just teasing, nothing out of the ordinary, it's his love language. But Hyuntak kept implying that he must have a crush on someone, because Juntae's whole demeanor had changed.

"You keep staring off into the distance. You're daydreaming about that person, Juntae-yah, aren't you? Come on, tell us everything," Hyuntak had said, grinning from ear to ear.

And Juntae couldn't even deny; he'd playfully shoved him away, praying internally he'd stop.

"What are we saying sorry for?" Baku chimes in, resting his chin on Hyuntak's shoulder. "What did my Gotak do again this time? Should I scold him?"

"None of your business, asshole!" Hyuntak pinches his cheek and runs towards the basketball court.

Baku barks out a laugh before following his lead, leaving Sieun and Juntae trailing behind them. Juntae can't keep his smile from appearing as he observes Baku and Hyuntak fight for a ball.

Their third and last year of high school has been peaceful so far, filled with lazy days, the smell of fast food, and nagging from teachers about SCAT and the vague state of their future. None of them takes it seriously, Sieun being the exception. He's been studying almost non-stop, head buried in a million books and posture ruined while sitting on a computer. Baku still can't believe Sieun uses it for his studies and research, and not only for gaming. Juntae doesn't tell him that Sieun's computer doesn't have any games (even the basic ones), afraid he'd have a heart attack.

Of course, Juntae is trying too, but not to that extent. Thankfully, Sieun's attention shifts to Suho and making sure he's caught up with the curriculum. Suho's complaints about him being a monster tutor fall flat on Sieun's ears. And others? They stay out of the way in fear that their mighty friend directs his wrath to them, too.

Despite being this busy, Sieun makes time for them, and Juntae is grateful. His little friend group that formed seemingly by accident has become his found family. Baku and his sense of responsibility over the people he loves; Hyuntak and his unapologetic protectiveness; Suho's loud care; and Sieun's silent appreciation.

"Will there be a day when we don't play basketball?" Sieun's calm voice takes Juntae out of his thoughts.

The bench they sit on is wonky, tilting downwards - maybe it's been made like this on purpose, so that students don't linger around for long.

"Any ideas?" Juntae asks, curious, handing Sieun a bottle of water.

"Suho wanted to invite us for a sleepover at his."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Sieun answers, eyes following Baku's perfect shot into the net, and Hyuntak whines, running a hand over his sweaty hair.

"It's going to be messy with all of us there. I already feel sorry for his grandmother," Juntae huffs as he imagines how loud and chaotic they would be.

Sieun's expression stays the same, but something akin to sadness flickers in his eyes before he looks up to the sky. The clouds that seem heavy, motionless, slowly swim by. Juntae tries to make up figures in them, find a face or an animal. However, the clouds remain as clouds, refusing to take any other shape. His grip on the bottle tightens. He feels like one of them, existing, but not having his own unique form, uncertain and lost.

"We should spend more time together," says Sieun eventually, turning to Juntae, his gaze soft, "before… before we graduate."

Before all of us are too busy with adult life to find time for each other? Juntae's mind finishes it for Sieun.

"You're right, Sieun-ah."

"Yah, slowpokes!" Baku screams from afar, aggressively waving his entire arm at them. Hyuntak lies at his legs, all limbs sprawled and chest rising concerningly fast. "Why don't you join? I beat Gotak, now it's your turn!"

Reluctantly, Sieun stands up, but there is a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He offers Juntae a hand.

"You have work today?" he asks.

"Yep."

"Then let's make it quick."