Archive of Our Own

It was a normal day, like any other.
The arcade was full of noisy teenagers; the air saturated with the strong smell of energy drinks and snacks. Keys were pounded without rest, mixing with laughter, complaints and music filtering from nearby earbuds.

At one of the machines, Seongje was cursing under his breath trying to win a poorly calculated round.

His concentration broke suddenly.

—FUCKING SON OF A BITCH! SHIT!

The screen flickered. 
[Game over]

Seongje stared at his screen for a few moments.

The shout had come from a few booths away. Seongje looked up, annoyed, and saw a dark-haired girl insulting the screen as if she had just lost something truly valuable.

Several people turned to look at her.

She noticed. She raised her gaze and glared at them with annoyance, managing to make more than one immediately look away. Then her eyes stopped on someone in particular.

A few booths away, a boy with messy hair and glasses was watching her without hiding it.

Anger? Interest?

Whatever it was, it caused Seongje to stand up from his seat and walk toward her. He stopped next to the machine, glanced sideways at the boy occupying the adjacent seat and he moved away almost instantly, intimidated.

Seongje took the free seat.

—Thanks for making me lose my game, miss —he said, smiling. There was irony in the gesture, but also a faint trace of annoyance.

—Oh, sorry... —she replied without the slightest remorse. The sarcasm was obvious—. I’m Lee Yuna.

Seongje observed her with lazy amusement, tilting his head slightly.

—I didn’t ask —he shot back—. I’m Geum Seongje.
He made a brief pause, evaluating her.
—You’re not from around here, are you?

—No —she turned her gaze back to her PC and raised an eyebrow—. Are you going to keep staring or do you prefer me to compensate for your loss?

Seongje let out a nasal laugh. The girl in front of him was interesting, at least enough.

—And how do you plan to compensate me? —he asked, with a sly smile.

—I hope you like ramen —she replied— because I don’t have much money.

Seongje remained silent. He evaluated her without any shame, running his gaze over her as if deciding if she was worth it. He didn’t seem to care how rude it could be.

—I accept the invitation.

And so they met again the next day.
And the next.
And the next.

It wasn’t love, not even a deep interest. It was convenience. They coincided in schedules, in games, in the way of killing time. Seongje enjoyed the feeling of having someone next to him without having to make an effort. She didn’t ask for more nor did more.

After a few days, they decided to "go out". There was no ceremony nor promises; it simply happened. To Seongje it seemed practical to name something that was already happening.

Girlfriend.

The word felt strangely amusing.

It was the first time he labeled a relationship. 

-✧-

The afternoon had fogged up the city of Yeongdeungpo.
The streets were full of students leaving their institutes, shops half-open and roads saturated with traffic that was exhausting just to look at.

Somewhere in the city stood a bowling alley.

The Union’s base.

Baekjin was in his office, sitting with arms crossed, watching how one of his men beat a kneeling student in front of him.

—Please... n-no I didn’t mean to lose... —the boy gasped upon receiving a direct kick to the stomach—. I didn’t want to lose the motorcycle!

Baekjin didn’t react.
He looked at him the way one looks at something that no longer has value.

—If you can’t fulfill, then you will compensate —he said, without raising his voice—. I don’t accept excuses.

He made a brief gesture with his hand.

—Get him out.

—No, please! I swear I don’t know where it is!

The door opened without prior notice.

Seongje had arrived.

Before he could fully enter, two guys passed by his side dragging the beaten boy out of the office. Seongje barely gave them a glance.

He entered.

—Where were you? —Baekjin asked without thinking and without hiding his annoyance. Beating those idiots was Seongje’s job, and he had been missing for days.

—Walking around.

Baekjin followed him with his gaze to the sofa. Seongje dropped down in his usual relaxed posture, taking out a cigarette as if nothing had happened.

But there was something different in his face.

A smile.

Not the usual one.
A strange smile.

A smile Baekjin already had registered as important news.
Deep down, Baekjin could already guess what those absences were due to. Still, he needed confirmation.

—You know you have duties to fulfill here —he said, lowering his gaze to his book—. So stop wasting time walking around.

—Oh... wait —Seongje exhaled the smoke to the side—. Did you miss me?

A murderous glare pinned him.

Seongje let out a brief laugh, accompanying the smoke.

“Well. I suppose he’s not in the mood.”

Seongje thought. His greatest pastime, besides smoking, was irritating Baekjin. Normally he tolerated it for half an hour before kicking him out, but today didn’t seem to be the day. He decided to go straight to the point. 

—I met someone.

Silence fell suddenly.

“Here we go again”, Baekjin thought, with a dry annoyance piercing his chest.

—Someone? —he repeated, without changing his tone.

—Yes —Seongje looked at him over his glasses—. Congratulate me... I have a girlfriend.

Baekjin already knew.
It wasn’t the first time Seongje had one. He was always the first to find out, something that was even more annoying considering that, in all the time they had known each other, he had never shown interest in Seongje’s private life.

The silence stretched longer than necessary, until both noticed they were still staring at each other fixedly.

Baekjin was the first to look away.

—Make sure it doesn’t interfere with your work —he said, with a voice devoid of emotion.

Deep down, he knew that relationship wouldn’t last many days.
Like all the previous ones.

Or so he thought. 

-✧-

Three weeks had passed.
Three weeks in which things that shouldn’t keep happening kept happening.

Seongje was still with that girl.
Still absent several days.
Still bothering him every afternoon while telling him, with too much enthusiasm, about his splendid dates.

Before it was already absurd to hear him talk with total normality about how he beat some guy on the street or complain about anything unimportant. It had always been annoying. But these new topics were different. More irritating.

The glasses boy’s relationships never lasted more than one or two days. He had a tendency to get bored easily.

That’s why it was strange that that relationship was still ongoing.

And very deep down, it was annoying that it still existed.

But that day something new happened.
Something he desired, something he hoped never to have to see.

It was four in the afternoon.
Baekjin walked with a sure and measured step, uniform well pressed, hair in place. Classes had ended and he was heading to the bowling alley.

The sun rays painted the streets in yellow and orange tones. Students and office workers mixed on the sidewalks. As he approached his destination, the noise increased. Narrow alleys with graffiti, cracked walls, groups of students going through what they probably felt were the worst days of their lives.

From the outside, the bowling alley looked like a normal place.

A crowded place.
A site where friends gathered to play.

Baekjin had chosen it taking all factors into account.

That didn’t take away that he hated how noisy and stressful it was to walk those streets.

At the last turn in an alley, he saw from afar a too familiar figure:

Brown hair.
Low-quality glasses.
That relaxed posture he could recognize from any distance.

Seongje.

Beside him, someone else.
A person who wasn’t in his registry. But he could perfectly assume who it was.

The girl approached. She put a hand on Seongje’s shoulders and, with a smile, leaned in until their mouths met.

In a horrible kiss.

Baekjin didn’t look away, although he wished it more than anything. The stiffness in Seongje’s body gave him a relief he didn’t know how to identify.

They separated.

The girl smiled, exchanged a couple of words and then left.

Seongje stayed looking in that direction, with a confused face.
When he came to and turned to leave, his gaze stopped.

He saw him.

Both were surprised for different reasons.

For Baekjin, being discovered was embarrassing. Seeing someone known kissing and staring for several minutes should have made him uncomfortable.

And it did.

But not enough to look away.

He realized he had his brow furrowed.
And a small stab in his chest.

He was annoyed.
And that had to be visible.

Seongje was the first to move. He walked toward him with calm steps.

—Shit... that was awkward —Seongje murmured. 

He looked at him, waiting for some comment.

He received nothing.

—Aren’t you late for today’s meeting? —he commented, smiling in the process.

—You’re late too —Baekjin snapped—. I thought I had made it clear that your relationship shouldn’t interfere with your availability in the Union.

He didn’t expect his voice to sound like that.
Annoyed. Almost like a reproach.

For something that, in theory, wasn’t his concern.

Seongje raised his eyebrows, surprised. He didn’t remember the last time Baekjin had talked so much about something that wasn’t work.

He couldn’t help it.
A laugh escaped him.

“Is he mocking me?”

The thought irritated him even more.

—Shut up and walk.

Baekjin resumed his step.

—Oh, wait, boss —Seongje had to hurry his pace to catch up.

“How dare you laugh at me with the same lips that kissed that girl.”

The thought was stupid.
And yet, for the first time, Baekjin let it pass.

He stopped thinking about the scene. He only hoped not to have to see it again.

Or even better, that that relationship would end once and for all.

He needed his right hand available at all times... so the Union would function as always.

-✧-

Four days since that afternoon.
Four days in which he had had to see more of those scenes; it seemed life had decided to play a bad joke on him.

Overwhelming. That would be the word to define how he felt. Every time he looked at them, he felt a stab in the chest, an inexplicable discomfort.

That was another day of an extensive day in the Union, night had fallen several hours ago

After meetings and organizing papers, he was getting ready to return home; when he finished, he left the bowling alley.
At that hour almost no one was left in the place, except him.

Seongje had left a couple of hours ago. Which meant that day destiny was on his side and he wouldn’t have to witness any scene. 

He walked the streets with calm steps. Even at that hour there were too many people.

At a curve, the first thing that caught his gaze was two people devouring each other passionately.

It was a déjà vu.

But something was strange. The girl looked familiar to him. Wavy hair, that disastrous clothing style.

It was Seongje’s girlfriend.

Kissing a guy who wasn’t Seongje.

His feet planted on the ground for a few seconds. He clenched his fists, his posture became rigid; he tried to analyze the scene in front of him.

Without thinking more, he turned around and changed direction; he walked at a hurried pace through the streets, his body moving on autopilot.

The wind hit his face as he advanced through the narrow alleys, dodging the people who got in his way.

Seongje was a crazy, manic guy. He hit for fun, being hit also amused him. Of course, his personality was questionable, but attractive, and above all he was too attractive, something no one could deny, including him.

So.

How could that girl cheat on Seongje with someone who even from afar didn’t reach his heels?

He didn’t know at what moment he started running, nor why he was heading to that place. He climbed the stairs to the fifth floor.

He was breathing with difficulty, jaw clenched, heart beating faster than usual.

“Am I really going to do this?”

He thought too late. 

His hands moved before he could stop them.
The door opened after the second ring.

And there was Seongje, standing, looking at him with an expression of surprise. He didn’t wait for him to speak. He pushed him, stepped inside and closed the door in the process.

—Did something happen?

Seongje couldn’t help worrying. Baekjin being at his door at that hour wasn’t normal.

Baekjin didn’t answer.

Instead, he took a step forward and, with a strong tug on Seongje’s pajamas, brought him abruptly toward him. The movement was so sudden there was barely time to react.

Their lips collided.

It couldn’t be called a kiss. It was more like a clumsy, messy impact, loaded with something that didn’t fit either of them... and, at the same time, fit too well.

Baekjin moved first, with an urgency that didn’t resemble him. His lips searched, pressed, as if waiting for an answer he didn’t know how to ask for.

The glasses boy took a second to react.

His hands rose slowly. Baekjin, almost without realizing, expected them to reach his neck. But they stopped at his shoulders.

A light push made him step back. Baekjin didn’t resist.

—But... what do you think you’re doing? —Seongje gasped, trying to catch his breath—. I have a girlfriend.

He let out a short laugh. In his voice there was amusement, but also something more serious, more tense.

Baekjin felt the impact of those words.

He didn’t know why he had come. Nor did he know at what moment someone else’s infidelity had become his perfect excuse to cross a line that had never been allowed to exist, neither for Seongje nor for himself. 

“I shouldn’t have come.”

The thought came late again. His body had acted before his head. That wasn’t like him. That impulsiveness had always been Seongje’s thing.

And yet, he spoke again.

He raised his gaze, fixed on the face in front of him.

—She’s cheating on you.

He didn’t realize his voice had come out with a strange edge, almost desperate.

Seongje stayed still.

His posture straightened little by little. His eyes searched Baekjin’s face for some sign of a joke.

He found none.

Understanding came first. Then humiliation. Then something darker.

—Shit... seriously I got cheated on? To me?

His voice was low, almost a whisper, but Baekjin heard it anyway.

He didn’t wait any longer.

He leaned in again, this time slowly, giving him time. Giving him space to pull away if he wanted.

Neither moved.

The air between them became dense. The silence stretched, loaded with everything they weren’t saying.

Then Seongje pulled him.

Hard.

Their lips met again, but it was no longer a clumsy crash. This time there was intention. His hands rose to Baekjin’s nape, drawing him in, deepening the kiss without asking permission.

Baekjin didn’t need more.

His hands lowered to Seongje’s waist, holding him against him. The kiss became firmer, more loaded, less clumsy and more dangerous.

The kiss didn’t break, though the minutes passed.

It was still clumsy, messy, desperate, as if neither knew exactly what to do with the other’s body now that the line had been crossed. They separated barely to breathe, only to meet again a second later, with more urgency, with less patience.

The apartment suddenly seemed too small. 

He hated the stale taste of cigarette, but the nicotine on Seongje’s lips was intoxicating.

Baekjin advanced without thinking, forcing him to back up. Their steps collided with a table, with the sofa, with anything that got in the way. His hands didn’t know where to stay, rising, falling, clinging to the fabric of the clothes, as if letting go was an option he wasn’t willing to consider.

The air became thick.

Every time they separated, even for a second, silence filled with agitated breathing and gazes that said more than either dared put into words.

Then Seongje let out a low laugh, against his lips, without pulling away completely.

—Since when do you like being second choice.

The mockery was there. But also something more dangerous.

Baekjin gripped the fabric of his clothes harder.

—Shut your mouth.

The growl was low, contained. He leaned just enough to speak in his ear, his voice deeper than he intended.

—Where’s your room?

Seongje stayed still for a second.

He looked at him.

That crooked smile returned, slow, provocative, as if he enjoyed too much having him like this, losing control.

—Wow... —he murmured—. So direct, Baekjin-ah.

He didn’t pull away.

On the contrary, he turned his body a little, marking the way with a minimal movement of his head.

—That way.

And Baekjin didn’t hesitate.

His hands lowered along Seongje’s waist, holding him against him, as if he feared he would escape if he let go. He pushed him toward the short hallway, clumsy steps, kisses that didn’t break, until the bedroom door opened with a shove.

Seongje had always wanted this.
From the nights in the office, when Baekjin looked at him as if he were a problem he didn’t know whether to solve or discard.
He had fantasized with his hands on his waist, with his breath on his neck, with Baekjin losing control for once.

But he never thought Baekjin would let him.

And now he had him there.
Offering himself as consolation, as revenge, as whatever this was.

Who was he to refuse.

The door closed with a dull thud.

The sound seemed to seal something between them.

The room was dark, lit only by the faint light from the hallway. The air smelled of Seongje: smoke, faint sweat, something familiar that had always belonged to him... and that now Baekjin was invading.

Seongje backed up until he collided with the bed.

Baekjin didn’t pull away.

The closeness was suffocating. Too much. The space between their bodies became insignificant, as if the room itself was pushing them to confront each other.

Seongje laughed low, without humor.

—Look at you... —he murmured—. So annoyed by someone you’re supposed to not care about.

That did hit.

Baekjin clenched his jaw. He felt the comment like a finger pressing right where it bothered most.

He didn’t respond.

He rested his forehead against Seongje’s shoulder, not out of tenderness, but because he needed to anchor himself to something. His hands trembled slightly, betraying a control he no longer had.

—Do you want me to leave? —he asked in a low voice.

It wasn’t a plea.
It was almost a challenge.

Seongje turned his face a little, just enough to look at him sideways.

—Would you leave if I asked?

The question hung suspended between them.

Closed door.
Bed behind.
Heavy breathing.
The certainty that neither was really willing to step back.

Baekjin pushed him gently toward the mattress.

Not with violence.
With decision.

As if he no longer trusted himself to stop.

Seongje let himself fall, looking at him from below, with that crooked smile that always drove him crazy. The one that asked for nothing, but provoked everything.

—If you cross this —he whispered—, there’s no turning back, Baekjin-ah. —this time he let out a nasal laugh— I have an excuse, I got cheated on... but what’s yours? 

Baekjin leaned in, his hand stopping at his waist.

Hard.

As if admitting it with his body was easier than saying it out loud.

—Stop mentioning her, it’s irritating. 

The bed sank with a dull sound when Baekjin pushed him back. 

Seongje fell onto the mattress with a gasp he didn’t try to hide, a crooked smile drawing on his lips. Before he could say another provocation, Baekjin was already over him, leaning in to kiss him.

It wasn’t a slow nor careful kiss. It was firm, demanding, as if he needed to erase with force the image of that day, the taste of her mouth, the humiliation of her betrayal. He wanted to replace every memory with his own. 

Those lips went down his jaw, leaving open, wet kisses, marking a path of ownership to the neck. Seongje tensed his fingers against the sheet, the arch of his back a silent invitation.

—Fuck... —he murmured, with his voice already broken—. Are you going to keep provoking or...?

Baekjin didn’t respond. He wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of responding. He continued his path, leaving a trail of hot kisses to the abdomen, each one making Seongje’s muscles contract in feverish anticipation. 

Air escaped Seongje’s lungs in short gasps, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that betrayed his complete arousal.

Baekjin’s patience, always so finite, ran out. With a brusque and clumsy movement, he unbuttoned Seongje’s shirt. The buttons almost flew off. The fabric fell aside. The cold air raised goosebumps on his skin and made him arch slightly, seeking Baekjin’s heat.

—Start once and for all —Seongje growled, frustrated by the slowness, by the control Baekjin exercised even in this.

With a choked snort, Seongje grabbed Baekjin’s t-shirt, pulling it with such force that the elastic grazed Baekjin’s face before flying off. 

—Finally. —Seongje murmured, his voice a hoarse and raspy tone from desire—. I wasn’t going to be the only one naked here.

He tried to wrap Baekjin’s waist with his legs to bring him closer, to invert the game. The direct friction on their erections, already hard and throbbing, drew an almost simultaneous growl from them. But Baekjin didn’t let himself be carried away. He stopped him instantly. His hands closed firmly over his hips, pinning him to the mattress.

—No —he said, low. The order vibrated in the air.

Seongje tried to rebel, pushing his hips upward, seeking more of that contact, but Baekjin immobilized him with the weight of his body, a deliberate and dominant pressure. He even tried to switch positions, lifting his legs, but Baekjin held him with more force, forcing him to stay in place.

—Stay still —Baekjin growled, his voice low and full of an authority that excited Seongje to his bones.

A choked laugh escaped Seongje. —Are you going to boss me around in my own bed, boss?

Baekjin’s only response was the descent of his hand toward Seongje’s pants. He didn’t unbutton it immediately. He toyed with the metal button, his knuckles brushing again and again, slow and deliberate, the erect length that screamed to come out of the fabric. Seongje gasped, his hips rose on instinct, a silent invitation Baekjin ignored with exquisite cruelty. This wasn’t just about pleasure; it was about teaching him who was in charge always, who was claiming him.

With a quick movement, Baekjin grabbed both of Seongje’s wrists and lifted them above his head, holding them with one hand. The other hand continued its torture, brushing, pressing with a lightness that was worse than force, taking Seongje to the edge of madness. His body trembled, not from cold, but from tension so acute it almost hurt.

He unbuttoned it. Lowered the zipper. Seongje helped by lifting his hips, impatient, breathing irregularly. When he finally got rid of the clothes, the relief was immediate... and brief. Baekjin took his time before getting rid of his own, letting the anticipation grow until it was unbearable.

—You’re an asshole —Seongje muttered, more to himself than to him.

Preparation was minimal, almost nonexistent. Both were too anxious, too hungry. Baekjin positioned himself between his legs, and when he entered, he did so with calculated slowness that allowed Seongje to feel every centimeter, every contour. Seongje tensed, a deep guttural sound escaping his throat as his body adapted to the fullness.

They took a second. Just one. To breathe. To get used to the sensation, to the absolute closeness. Then Baekjin began to move. Finding a rhythm.

—Ah... there... —Seongje’s voice broke—. Shit... y-yes...

His hands clung to the sheets. His body reacted even when his mind tried to contain itself. Those arrogant eyes now filled with lust, with minimal tears, his lips slightly parted silently begging for more. This was how it always should have been. This was what they needed. Him and Seongje.

“He looks so...”

The thought escaped Baekjin’s mind before he could catch it. Too vulnerable. Too real. He looked away, concentrating on the movement, on the friction, on anything that wasn’t Seongje’s pleasure-wrecked face.

After a while feeling how the expressions of pure pleasure on Seongje’s face took him to the edge, Baekjin acted. With a fluid and dominant movement, he turned him. Seongje fell face down, supporting himself on his elbows. The change drew a choked moan from his throat.

The thrusts continued, deeper, more intense. Baekjin leaned over him, kissing his spine, his neck, leaving marks he couldn’t hide.

—Fuck... Baekjin... —Seongje gasped—. Don’t stop...

Seongje was drowning against the pillow, his moans were broken sounds, choked gasps as his body trembled under Baekjin’s control. From time to time, Baekjin grabbed a handful of his hair, sinking his face against the pillow just to hear how his voice became more desperate, more choked.

—Ahh...

After several deep thrusts, he managed to hit that ultrasensitive spot inside Seongje. Almost immediately a violent arch ran through Seongje’s back.

—Ah... there... —he gasped, his words broken by pleasure.

Each thrust was precise and controlled, hitting that place again and again, an ecstasy torture that made Seongje tremble from the roots of his hair to the tips of his toes. 

He tried to move, push to find more angle, more depth, but Baekjin held him by the hips, controlling every movement, every sensation. He was dismantling him piece by piece, not just with his body, but with the refusal to give up total control.

—Ahh... fuck... Baekjin... —Seongje gasped with broken voice, the name sounding more like surrender than insult.

It was then that Seongje’s phone started vibrating on the nightstand. 

Once. 
Two. 

An insistent and annoying sound, a reminder of the outside world that had no right to interrupt that moment. Baekjin ignored it at first, lost in the heat and rhythm, in the body in front of him, but the persistent vibration ended up pulling him from his own trance. It was an interruption. An affront.

Without stopping completely, he stretched his hand and took the phone from the nightstand. The screen lit up. 

[Yuna ᰔ]

Baekjin’s heart stopped. 
Then exploded. 

A wave of childish, possessive and absolutely absurd rage ran through him. It wasn’t just jealousy. It was white fury at that woman’s audacity to claim something that no longer belonged to her. Without thinking, with the coldness that only he could maintain in the middle of chaos, he opened the camera.

He focused on Seongje’s back: messy hair stuck to the nape by sweat, shining skin, red and purple hickeys marking the spine like a signature, the curve of his waist where Baekjin still held him with possession. He took the photo. One single. A record of his victory.

He wrote quickly, with fingers that didn’t tremble from doubt, but from the adrenaline of fury: 

[You don’t need him anymore.] 
Sent.

The phone buzzed immediately with reply, but Baekjin ignored it. He grabbed Seongje’s hair with force, lifting him enough to see the screen. Seongje saw it and let out a hoarse, choked laugh, body still trembling from pleasure and shock.

—Did you really just do that? —he said, voice trembling with laughter and pure euphoria—. The most calculating guy I know sending a photo of my marked body? How childish, Baekjin-ah.

Baekjin tightened the hair more, but his voice came out low, almost a growl.

—You don’t need her contact anymore.

Seongje laughed again, pushing back hard, regaining a bit of power.

—You’re a possessive idiot —he murmured, voice hoarse and full of a challenge that excited Baekjin and began registering in the deepest part of his head—. But... how sexy you look, Jin-ah.

The use of the diminutive was the trigger. Baekjin turned Seongje again, leaving him face up, almost violently. He was undone. A beautiful disaster: flushed face, crooked and fogged glasses, messy hair, swollen lips, chest rising and falling with violence.

Baekjin positioned himself on top, entering again, this time deeper, less hurried but infinitely more intense. He leaned down, kissed Seongje, his tongue invading the other’s mouth, both drowning in the process. Baekjin kissed him with hunger, with rage, with something dangerously close to a desperate need to mark him from inside.

He increased the speed, his lips glued against the hollow of the other boy’s neck, licking and biting just enough to leave a more visible, more permanent mark. Seongje trembled, saw stars behind his eyes from the sudden speed, choked gasps came out of him, wishing Baekjin would lower the intensity to catch a little air.

That didn’t happen.

Baekjin bit his neck, enough to leave a definitive mark, and the thrust that followed was deeper and more painful, the punishment for calling him "Jin-ah", for making him feel so vulnerable.

That was all.

—Mmm... ahg... Baekjin-ah!...

Seongje’s body tensed in a perfect arch, the sound that escaped his throat was open, without control, a choked cry of pleasure and surrender. Baekjin followed seconds later, with a hoarse and deep moan, letting his forehead fall against Seongje’s shoulder. He needed to anchor himself to him.

Heavy, dense silence fell. Mixed breathing in the dark air. Bodies still too close, sweaty and tired. Nothing was resolved. And both knew it.

Baekjin fell to his side.

Not with care. Nor with brusqueness. Just… fell. As if his body had won before he could think what to do next. Both ended up looking at the ceiling, breathing deeply, trying to recover air at the same rhythm.

Silence arrived late, but when it did, it was suffocating.

Minutes passed.
Neither spoke.
Neither moved.

Baekjin felt his pulse still accelerated. Not from effort. From everything else. From what he had done without thinking. From what he didn’t know how to undo now.

Seongje was the first to break the silence.

—Did you really see her kissing someone else?

The question landed badly. Very badly.
Like a bucket of ice water straight to the chest.

Baekjin stayed completely still.

He didn’t expect that. Not there. Not now. He felt something close in his throat, an uncomfortable mix of anger and surprise. He turned his head slightly, looking at him from the corner of his eye.

—Yes —he answered, dry.

Seongje nodded slowly, as if assembling an idea piece by piece.

—Right… —he murmured—. And did you see that guy’s face or just—

He didn’t finish.

The movement was sudden. The bed creaked when Baekjin sat up abruptly. He turned toward him with furrowed brow, clenched jaw, tense shoulders.

—Seongje-ya.

He didn’t raise his voice.
That made it worse.

Seongje blinked, surprised for barely a second, before letting out a nervous laugh, without humor.

—Shit… —he said, passing a hand over his face—. This is awkward, I don’t know what to say. 

Baekjin looked at him fixedly.

—Are you regretting it?

The question remained suspended between them.
Direct. Uncomfortable. Too honest for the moment.

Seongje didn’t respond immediately. He didn’t even look at him.

—Are you seriously asking me that? —Seongje sat up, supporting himself on one elbow—. Do you think I’m not strong enough to kick you out of my house as soon as you kissed me?

In the end, his voice cracked slightly. Not from sadness. From annoyance. 

Silence again.

Baekjin closed his eyes for a second and let out a rough sigh. He was exhausted. Body heavy, head full of thoughts that didn’t fit together. He had lost control. Of the situation. Of himself.
Leaving was logical.
Leaving was correct.

But he didn’t want to.

—Overthinking again, Na Baekjin.

The comment hit him harder than it should have.

He got up from the bed abruptly, feeling the glasses boy’s gaze fixed on him. He walked a couple of steps, turning his back, looking for anything to put on, any excuse not to stay there.

—I should… —he started.

—Great —Seongje interrupted him, without raising his voice—. Sudden and confusing sex, you escape leaving everything unresolved. Very you.

Baekjin clenched his teeth.

The room felt smaller. As if the air had become dense, as if even without looking at each other they were too exposed. He clenched his fists, gaze fixed on the door. He made a decision before thinking too much.

—You’re not going to see her again.

It wasn’t a question.
It was an order.

He turned then.

—Get up —he added—. Get ready. We’re going to eat something.

The mask of coldness was back on his face, but Seongje noticed it anyway. That something different in his eyes. Something more intimate. Something he didn’t show anyone else. Something that, for an instant, belonged only to him.

Seongje observed him with attention, studying that new expression. Then, as always, he took refuge in his mockery. The corners of his lips rose while he leaned toward the nightstand drawer, taking out a cigarette. He lit it with deliberate calm.

—Always ordering —he said, exhaling the smoke slowly—. It’s your favorite hobby, apparently.

Baekjin approached. Not fast. Not violently. With that dangerous stillness he used when he had already decided something. He took Seongje by the nape, forcing him to raise his gaze.

—Don’t make me wait, Geum Seongje.