Chapter Text
It was going to rain.
Hyuntak could tell, he could always tell a day or so before the clouds piled up and cluttered the sky in dull, lifeless shades. Or to be more precise, his knee would know before he had the chance to even think about it. Each time it started with the sensation of pins and pinpricks growing outward of the socket like a thorny onslaught, as if tiny vines were bursting out of the cracks of an old wall.
He moved away from the metal doors he was leaning onto and shook his leg, frowning, and his best friend standing beside him seemed to pick up on it.
“Gotak, my favourite weather app, do I have to bring an umbrella tomorrow?”
Park Humin, or otherwise nicknamed Baku, stood there with hands in his pockets and a big smile on his face. Hyuntak noticed the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“Shut up,” he muttered as he looked around, Sieun and Juntae nowhere to be seen when they had made a deal to meet outside the basketball club room. “You never bring an umbrella.”
“That is so not true.”
“You only ever brought one when-” Hyuntak froze, biting his tongue. He chided himself when he saw Humin’s gaze drift to the floor, and he scrambled to apologise. “I didn’t mean to-”
“No, no, it’s okay. I’m fine,” Humin waved his arms and smiled, corners of his eyes slightly wet as if he was already having trouble holding his emotions in. “No moping, no being sad. I will be back to my old self before you know it!”
His voice was loud and booming, and it made the approaching two who remained of their little friend group to wince and smile in the distance. Sieun, who looked tired but not from lack of sleep; rather from spending every night catching up on the two years missed with Ahn Suho. And then there was Juntae, smiling with a skip in his step as they got closer.
“Hi, guys. Sorry we’re late, Sieun went to buy some snacks so I accompanied him.”
“Ah, Sieun-ah, are you spoiling your boyfriend while he’s in recovery?” Humin exclaimed, swinging one arm around the boy’s shoulders. “You will run out of money, or something.”
“It’s fine,” Sieun muttered as he refused to meet Humin’s intense gaze, but Hyuntak could tell the corners of his mouth were slightly raised up.
“Shall we, boys?” Humin walked over to Juntae and swung his arm around him so he wouldn’t feel left out. They walked away and off the school grounds, basking in the ongoing serenity of their senior year.
Having stepped out into the sun, Hyuntak took a deep breath and immersed himself in the moment, ignoring the distant angry clouds littering the very edges of the sky he could make out, squinting and afraid they’ll creep up on him as if to ambush them and disrupt the peace they had.
He looked at his friends, the fading red dye visible in Humin’s hair now that they weren’t in the shade, yet to be washed out completely as summer came to an end. And the little red strand in Juntae’s, the victim of a dye brawl which in turn made it seem like a bloodbath occurred in Humin’s bathroom. He had to fry chicken for a week as a punishment.
The school year only continued four weeks ago, the heat still unrelenting and suffocating for some reason, and Hyuntak hated it. But he had more reasons to hate this time of year, and the date which was approaching.
The date that the upcoming Sunday were to mark was one he always tried to suppress for the past couple years now. He would pretend it’s a different number and a completely different month marking his home screen, or the calendars on the classroom walls.
Because that day marks the anniversary of his first death. The death of his taekwondo career, the death of his dreams. Of the confidence he had to rebuild painfully and from scratch.
And now he couldn’t even bring up the name of the culprit without saddening his best friend, without ripping off the loose band-aid the taller boy wore on his heart. The mere name, Na Baekjin, would make Humin’s heart shatter into dozens of little pieces Hyuntak started to become tired of picking up. Not that it meant he would ever stop, no. That wasn’t an option.
If only it were anyone else, if only the person who ruined his life was someone his best friend didn’t carry with himself every day. Hyuntak was perfectly capable of mostly ignoring his trauma to in turn be of help, not even caring if it was about Baekjin. But for some reason this time of year made that difficult, and it created a veil of budding resentment which started to build up beneath his skin.
Hyuntak was tired, hurt. Angry. He was frustrated. But not with Humin, not with Baekjin.
With himself.
One of the distant clouds shone brightly for a split second. Thunder. It reminded him of how a pair of glasses looked when a speck of light scuttered across them and reflected it back onto his face.
Huh.
Another thing, another person he failed to suppress this time of year, too.
Geum Seongje.
“Motherfucker,” he muttered out loud, causing his friends to look at him with concerned looks on their faces.
“You okay?”
It was Sieun who dared ask the question first, sensing the tension in his friend.
“Yeah, sorry, just something I had to do came to mind, that’s all,” he replied, lying. He tried getting his shoulders to relax and continue walking leisurely. However, his brows were scrunched and he was involuntarily set back years into time; what felt like his mind forcing him to reminisce of the boy who always played outside, who didn’t seem to have a curfew or more than one pair of shoes, regardless of the weather. The boy whose glasses weren’t good enough for his dioptry and who desperately needed new ones, or else his eyesight would worsen.
It had worsened.
The boy Hyuntak bothered teaching all the taekwondo moves he learned day by day, practicing and kicking an old tattered gym bag they took from a dumpster when they were nine. The boy who, when they turned eleven, stole some candy as a gift for Hyuntak’s birthday, outrunning the store manager when he got caught.
“Tak-ah?”
He was shaken out of his thoughts by Juntae’s soft voice. They had stopped walking, already in front of their favourite basketball court they often hung out at, the one by the river. “Really, if something's wrong we don’t have to hang, we can talk about it instead?”
Hyuntak felt the tips of his ears heat up, now most definitely red and burning. He was embarrassed for slipping up so easily and failing to keep his attention on his friends.
“Nah, Juntae-ssi, really I’m fine,” he stepped away and jumped a couple times, alternating legs to warm up quicker. “Let’s play some games.”
He snatched the ball out of Humin’s free hand faster than the boy could react, his other arm busy still embracing Sieun. He ran down to the court and shot a satisfying bank shot. That seemed to snap the competitiveness out of his best friend, who then ran down and joined. They fought for the ball, dribbled and laughed as the sky dimmed. A slight breeze picked up, and with it carried a bitter scent. But Hyuntak was now having fun, and the familiar tinge of Marlboro Reds seemed to go unnoticed in the air.
A couple days later on the predictably rainy Saturday, Humin insisted on a sleepover and movie night. Siuen reluctantly joined because he saved his weekends for studying, busy keeping Suho company on any other day, instead of going to cram school. They all hoped Suho too, could join them and hang out soon enough.
Juntae was a little too eager to come, curious eyes stealing glances at Hyuntak each time the clock seemed to inch closer to midnight. He had an inkling that Humin spilled what tomorrow meant to him.
Hyuntak bit his lip, tempted to just tell them it wasn’t that big of a deal, that he learned to cope with it and was going to be fine. But the truth was, he felt sick to his stomach the later it seemed to get, fearing he would spend the rest of the night bent over a toilet bowl emptying the contents of his stomach. Perhaps he was sick because all he had to eat was imported gummy bears Juntae saved for special occasions, and buldak ramen. Not a great combination, he thought.
“Hey, are we going to watch that movie or not, Baku?”
“Gotak-ie, we will,” Humin shifted closer on the makeshift bed on the floor, thick winter covers and several blankets covering the parquet flooring. “Pick, action or romance?”
Hyuntak snorted, barely amused. “Action, you moron.”
“Insulting my intelligence is getting old, man.”
“What intelligence?” he was about to throw another jab at Humin, but his opened mouth was met with a pillow projectile flying towards his face. He failed to catch it.
“I’m putting the movie on, scoot over everyone!”
The movie went on smoothly, the plot interesting and the action scenes entertaining. The twist was brilliant, too, albeit Hyuntak had guessed what would happen. Humin argued about it, and Sieun watched them with amusement as Juntae tried to understand both sides and play the diligent referee. Before long the four were huddled on the floor together, ditching the bed as if it didn’t even exist. The clock had struck midnight about an hour ago, and the only awake person stared at it, eyes fixed on the spot in the darkness he knew the infernal device was located. The incessant tick tock was driving him mad.
Hyuntak huffed, beads of cold sweat dotting his forehead. His ears were ringing, feeling he could hear his own screams echoing as Na Baekjin brought his foot down onto his knee for that final, debilitating time. He could swear in the corner of his room stood a familiar silhouette, tall height and broad shoulders, a cigarette cherry pick the only distinguishable trait within the darkness. Hyuntak thought he could hear him laughing.
He couldn’t stand being inside the room for a second longer. So he stood up, slowly and carefully as to not wake anyone, especially Humin, whose shoulder he was pretending to be asleep on. He felt guilty abandoning his friends who came to spend time with him when they knew he would feel like utter shit.
“Fuck.”
Cursing under his breath, Hyuntak tip-toed into the hallway to where his shoes were at. His mother was asleep for which he was glad. He wiggled into a pair of sneakers without undoing the laces and carefully unlocked the door. He didn’t have a plan in mind, clad in his sleep attire consisting of gray shorts and a white tank top with only phone in hand, because he wasn’t stupid not to bring it.
The air was a little too cold for the lack of clothes he was wearing, autumn beginning to fully take over. The ground was wet, but the skies were clear. A weird sight to behold.
Hyuntak expected the rain to last a little longer.
Perhaps it was a sign that this too shall pass soon. At least one of the people who wronged him were out of his life, as much as he hated when that thought occurred to him. He wasn’t glad Baekjin died, not at all, because he wasn’t like that. Yet, a part of him was overjoyed it was a face he would never have to run into again. For the other person, he wasn’t sure.
The one whose name hadn’t been uttered since that final fight, Sieun relaying what had happened at the bowling alley. Hyuntak’s blood boiled at the thought, for him to be so conniving and thrill chasing that he would try to stop Sieun from coming to help, and in turn finish the fight. Maybe he knew that it would lead to the Union’s undoing, and he wasn’t done having his fun with them.
“Fucking bastard,” he whispered out loud, voice getting lost in the night air. The cursing habit which was embedded in his bones and the core of who he was, was also something he picked up long ago. He liked to think it was how he would eventually be on his own, though. Regardless of outside influences.
He walked and walked, thoughts spiralling out of control with every step he took. Words, yells, the smell of fire and smoke stuck in his lungs. The horrific realisation he would never be the same ever again, that it wasn't a terrible nightmare he could be awakened from. That he didn't get betrayed like he meant nothing at all.
Sleepily, he slid his phone out of his pocket and glanced at the time. 1:23AM. He walked for barely five minutes, yet it felt like much longer. He sighed and kept going in the direction of a convenience store he religiously went to for as long as he could remember. He had no money on him, but luckily his credit card was linked to his phone.
Hyuntak felt like shit.
He pushed the doors open and walked inside, the air conditioning a grave difference to the stale air outside. His head ached as he made his way to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, feeling parched and tired. He debated on getting something to eat, but went against it in the end, the quiet hum of the fridges lulling his numb mind into a weird mental state. He quickly paid, thanked the clerk and as he did so, he felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck. Someone was watching him, he was sure of it.
Hyuntak turned around, bottle in hand as he gazed outside the glass store windows. Nobody was there. However, he had faith in his instincts, never downplaying them. Especially at this time of night.
Reluctantly, he stepped outside, checking his surroundings and debating on texting Humin his location. The air seemed to get colder, and somehow sharper as he inhaled. He swallowed, unable to see or feel anything from any direction, but his gut was telling him to get the fuck out of there. Only Hyuntak hesitated, and that was all it took.
It was then when he could smell it; tobacco, harsh and ripe as it mingled with the aura of petrichor and humidity.
“Look at who we have here,” a lazy drawl, voice full of amusement and something sinister, came from his left. “Go Hyuntak.”
“You.”
“Me.”
A cloud of smoke appeared before the offending silhouette stepped through it, a little theatrically.
Geum Seongje, in the flesh, stood on the side of the road in the exact direction Hyuntak had to take to go home. Of course, the other boy knew that.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Hyuntak’s voice came out even and strong, but to his ears it sounded all too small and quiet. “This isn't your neighbourhood.”
Seongje smiled, a feral animal that came to toy with its prey. He pretended not to hear the second statement.
“Isn’t it obvious?” he slid out an unopened pack from his pants pocket and waved it around. “I was buying cigarettes.”
He then took a step closer, gauging the reaction it would bring. And when Hyuntak hesitated, undecided between standing his ground and taking a step back, he laughed.
“Tak-ah, are you nervous?”
His laughter irritated Hyuntak. In the dim lighting, he could see the slightly taller boy smiling all the way, lips taut and Cheshire like with his gums exposed. He used to like seeing that smile.
Now it came to haunt him at night.
“What the fuck do you want, Seongje?”
Hyuntak was tired, and he sounded tired. He didn’t move when the other took another step closer. Seongje slowly came to stand under the lamplight, clad in a dark windbreaker and baggy shorts cut above his knees, unlike Hyuntak’s whose pant-sleeves went over them. Precisely how he preferred for them to be.
“I told you. Or did you forget already?”
Another step closer.
“Don’t tell me you forgot, I will be so offended.”
Another step. A smile.
“Don’t come any closer, or I will fuck you up,” Hyuntak bit out through gritted teeth, blood boiling ravenously, coursing through his body as if rage was all he knew.
“Hmm, okay,” he hummed, and took the resolute step. But before the threat which hung in the air could come to life, Seongje reacted faster.
He grabbed Hyuntak’s shirt, the lack of fabric causing his tank top to bunch up higher and expose his lower midsection to the chilly air. Not quick enough to retaliate, Seongje had him pushed up roughly against the alley wall beside the convenience store. The wind was knocked clean out of Hyuntak’s lungs, and his vision spun for a moment. The water bottle slipped out of his grip and rolled down the street.
“Fucking asshole,” he cursed under his breath, hands flying to Seongje’s jacket, fingers intertwining in the noisy fabric.
They stared at one another, gazes unflinching and charged with a mixture of strong emotions. Most of it was anger and resentment, old and ugly as it reared its head and threatened to devour them both in the darkness of the alley.
“I thought I made myself clear. I'm the only one who gets to play with you,” Seongje stopped smiling now, eyes boring into Hyuntak’s face as if he was searching for something. “But you had to go and fight with my old friends, didn't you?”
“Get off me. You don't have any friends.”
That made Seongje’s eyes narrow and Hyuntak shivered, a small sliver of fear coursing through him as the damp wall made his spine ache. He tried to push the younger boy off of him, who in turn let go of his thin shirt to place his hands on his shoulders instead, the gesture rough. They were warm and nicotine stained.
“I heard you were going to step in and fight Baekjin, too?” Seongje hissed, bringing his face close enough Hyuntak could smell cigarettes paired with a secondary odour, tangible and bitter. Metallic. “Maybe I should have never tried to mess with the newbie, huh? If he didn't show up would you sacrifice your other knee?”
“Why did you even do it?!” Hyuntak screamed, as the anger was back now as if it never even left in the first place, fear becoming an afterthought. He ignored the knee comment. “Who gave you the fucking right to try and stop him from going?!”
Seongje laughed, full and melodic, an echo in the alley.
“Are you jealous, Tak-ah?”
“You're insane,” Hyuntak tried to push him again, this time with enough strength it made a difference, the other stepping back a notch. It was then when Hyuntak noticed the bloodied cut on his lip, and a bruise slowly forming on his jaw.
He stared at the injuries for a single moment, but that was enough to intrigue another set of annoying comments coming his way.
“Didn't think I'd catch you staring at my lips ever again,” Seongje smiled, bottom teeth slightly bloodied. “Keep doing it.”
“Fuck you.”
And then Hyuntak swung.
It was a quick blow, months, if not years of frustration behind its power. Due to their close proximity Seongje didn't have time to dodge, but he chose not to block it either. It hit him square in the jaw, in that same spot the bruise had already began blossoming from.
“Dirty move, Gotak,” the nickname Humin gave him was spat out like poison on his tongue. “I thought you played fair.”
“No such thing when dealing with you, fucker.”
“Finally, you learn.”
That smile again, followed by a brief wind up in the boy's shoulder. And with no time to react, Seongje’s fist was flying towards Hyuntak’s sternum. It connected without an ounce of mercy and he gasped, eyes blown wide as he tried to bend over from the pain. But those hands were back on him, steadying him and forcing him to keep standing straight.
“Now, no falling down. We aren't finished,” Seongje whispered, faces back to being only an inch apart. “Maybe I'll be nice and let you hit me again.”
“It's all fun and games with you, isn't it?” Hyuntak gritted out, face flushed, while on the contrary his exposed arms became littered with goosebumps. “Was everything always a joke to you?”
“Hm?” he hummed, followed by a snicker. “Is that what all this is about? You're actually upset.” He moved his head slightly back, eyes full of mockery and something akin to wonder alongside it.
“What? Did you think my hate for you was fake?!” Hyuntak's voice rose by an octave, parched throat causing it to crack slightly by the end of the sentence. “I can't even stand to look at you, right now.”
“What a pretty liar you are, Tak-ah.”
“Shut the fuck up!” he screamed, tearing himself free before throwing a reckless kick Seongje’s way.
The older boy twisted his body to the side, but it still landed on his hip and he hissed in pain, more so than he should have. Another injury, Hyuntak thought. How interesting.
“Someone got you good, didn't they?”
Before he had the chance to keep gloating, being the one smiling now, Seongje dropped down into a squat and swung his legs in a downward spin motion; sweeping Hyuntak off his feet. Literally.
Realising what had happened mid air, Hyuntak hit the ground hard, back aching from the impact. Panic and adrenaline hit his system like a drug, or what he thought that sensation always felt like. He tried to spring back up to his feet as fast as he fell. But things didn't go according to plan. They rarely did in any situation these two found themselves in.
Hyuntak kicked his feet up in the air and pushed himself up with his arms into what would have been a perfect martial arts comeback, if it didn't get stopped by a fierce kick to his ribs. He collided with the floor once again, curling in on himself, not even yelling from the pain.
“You're not slipping away from me. Give it up.”
No amusement was hidden behind those words, only anger.
“And I'm not letting you crawl away, you're above that, Go Hyuntak.”
Seongje bent down and flipped him onto his back, crouching next to the fallen boy. He then proceeded to grab his hand and bring it to his lips, just holding it there as if he was pondering what to do. Hyuntak froze, unsure of the situation, especially once he felt those very lips smiling across his skin. Was he going to bite him? Or perhaps snap his wrist?
Hyuntak opened his mouth to speak, slowly catching his breath, but the air ended up getting caught in his throat when his arm got dropped in the favour of his right knee.
Slowly and almost gently, Seongje moved his pant leg higher up, fingers brushing his thigh and burning Hyuntak’s skin. The ugly scar, both from the incident and the surgery that followed, was visible even in the poorly lit alley.
A hand moved back down and closed in on it, almost fully encapsulating the scar.
“Ah here it is.”
Hyuntak froze, every thought and every instinct seeping out of his body. He stared at Seongje with wide, petrified eyes. But the touch remained gentle, one finger trailing the jagged vertical line almost absent mindedly. Then he spoke, whispering.
“Be careful with those kicks. It's as if sometimes you forget you have a fucked knee, you know.”
Then he let go, straightened up and walked off. Hyuntak could hear receding, lazy footsteps followed by the sound of a lighter.
He scrambled to sit up, suddenly freezing and shaking. What the hell had just happened? And why did it have to happen tonight of all times?
Usually, he was of impressive mental fortitude when it came to this. He knew why Baekjin hurt him, knew Humin blamed himself for it. Knew how much they really cared for one another. Hell, he even cried at Baekjin’s funeral. One would think after going through what he had gone through, he would find it hard to stay best friends with Humin. But he wasn’t just anybody. And they weren’t just best friends; they shared a bond. It was something Hyuntak hadn’t felt since his childhood.
There it was, the reason he was capable of pushing so much about Baekjin under the rug. Because he blamed someone else more, way more than he thought possible. Someone he thought he would cherish forever, the person who stood and watched his knee become shattered and ruined, despite knowing he was an athlete. An athlete with dreams and aspirations he used to support.
Geum fucking Seongje, the person he hated, feared, thought about way too often at times.
The person who read so much manga in 10th grade, he proceeded to go around telling half the school he and Hyuntak-ie were tied together by the red string of fate.
And then high school came around and Hyuntak went to Eunjang, Seongje to Ganghak.
Promises were made, hang outs were due, they had stories to share and classmates to gossip. But on one autumn day, everything changed. And it kept changing for the worse going forward.
Then Hyuntak made a friend. A decision he could never take back. But even knowing everything that happens, he wouldn’t change a single thing. He knew it wasn’t his fault he ended up as the centre of two deranged, jealous people. One feeling betrayed he connected with another person deeply, the other feeling, well, the same. Just concerning somebody else.
He never stood a chance at getting out unscathed.
The dirty asphalt felt cold beneath his simultaneously shivering and sweating body. He carefully moved his knees forwards, falling into a crouch before standing up to his full height. His breastbone hurt, his back and ribs hurt, certain he was going to be bruised all over. But he seemed more aware of every little place Seongje’s hands had touched, burning from within as if he got branded; hot coal sliding across his body. He didn’t know what to think about that, so he chose not to think at all.
He frowned upon seeing his rolled up pant leg and brought it down to cover his bad knee. Somehow, despite falling and getting into a fight, he never had it hit once. Surely, that was pure luck and nothing to do with Geum Seongje.
“Shit, my phone,” Hyuntak cursed under his breath, positive he must have fallen on it when the bastard had tripped him. He slid his hands in his pocket, feeling nothing but his leg beneath the cotton. His phone wasn’t there. He looked around, a little frantic, hoping it just fell out and was laying on the ground waiting for its owner.
He spent five minutes searching in vain. Nothing. His phone was gone.
Hyuntak walked back in silence, limping slightly before forcing himself to seem unhurt when he came closer to home. He had a feeling Humin was awake and sitting on the couch in the dark or something, like in the movies.
Only instead, he saw the boy himself jogging towards him in the street, right outside his building. One of Hyuntak’s jackets was thrown over his shoulders.
“Baku?”
“Gotak! Where the hell have you been?!” he yelled despite the late hour.
“Shut the fuck up! It’s late, Baku,” Hyuntak whisper yelled as he inched closer and suddenly Humin hugged him, patting his back and squeezing him like he were something precious.
“Where did you go?”
Hyuntak felt guilty, as he should have just woken Humin up and asked him to join. But he also felt so desperately upset at that moment he craved being by himself. Of course, that didn’t go as planned, but still, it was what he had wanted.
“Just took a walk, bought some water.”
“You must have been thirsty, did you drink it all in one go?” Humin’s voice relaxed now, tension leaving his body. “Let’s go inside, come on.”
Hyuntak let himself be led inside, and they didn’t speak after that, just went and laid back down. He didn’t even get a chance to do anything else as the taller boy never let go of him, almost as if he was afraid he would disappear.
It made him feel worse, realising how badly Humin needed him right then, so he complied and laid down into their little friend-nest. He fell asleep surprisingly fast, dreaming of his younger self, different school uniform, different best friend.
Hyuntak woke up to the smell of pancakes, jolting before he processed where he was at, or which version of himself he was. The others were still asleep, and he took it as an opportunity to shower and change. In the steamy mirror he spotted a purple bruise forming on his back, and a matching one on his chest.
Once he was done, he walked into the kitchen and kissed his mother on the cheek. His beautiful mother, proud and supportive of everything he ever did in life. Specifically his taekwondo career. She was the proudest mom in the neighbourhood, bragging and telling everyone of his accomplishments. That wasn’t their reality anymore, though.
He turned on his heel and walked back to his bedroom, waking his friends up. Sieun sleeping like he’s dead, which was unsettling, Juntae who slept like a baby and Humin who drooled all over the duvets.
Hyuntak smiled, and it was genuine. “Wakey, wakey, you idiots. Breakfast is ready.”
Sunday crawled by, not terrible and not feeling like the anniversary of such a tragic day.
Even as if on cue, every now and then those eyes and that smile permeated his mood.
And then it was Monday. Dead leaves began falling solemnly, piling up on top of one another and decorating Eunjang High School grounds. The air was crisp, the sky clear and Hyuntak walked together with Humin by his side. His phone was still gone, and he wondered if he really lost it two nights ago in the alley.
A couple steps ahead, there was a person who caught both of their attentions. Their back was turned, and they wore a school uniform the colour of wine. Ganghak High School.
But the figure was too short and too thin to have been Geum Seongje. Hyuntak shrugged and moved to walk past the kid, but then they turned around and said something unintelligible. It was a boy, probably some freshman. The kid glanced at him and opened his mouth, then promptly closed it.
“Yeah? Spit it out,” impatient and irritated, Hyuntak bit the words out.
He felt Humin, tense and protective as he put a hand on his shoulder.
The Ganghak student seemed to snap out of it, and he slid a mobile phone out of his backpack.
“He said that if you block his number, there will be consequences,” he stretched his hand out and gave it over.
“What?!”
“I don’t know, excuse me…” the kid then proceeded to run off, glancing back to see if either of them decided to follow him and ask more questions.
“Gotak.”
He met Humin’s gaze, which was hard and unrelenting.
“Just say the word, and I will go break Geum Seongje’s bones.”
Hyuntak laughed despite himself, tempted to simply say “word” as a joke. But then he glanced at his phone and unlocked it.
The screensaver was changed. It was a picture of Hyuntak and Seongje, scrawny and young, one in a messy school uniform, the other in his taekwondo attire. They had their little arms around each other, smiling. They must have been nine or so in the picture.
Hyuntak shut his phone off extremely fast, worried Humin might have seen the picture. Funny, he considered him the closest person in his life at the moment, yet he never told him not even a little about his past.
“No, I will do it myself.”
He walked off towards the school with determination in his steps, Baku yelling after him to slow down.
If Geum Seongje wanted to slither back into his life, Hyuntak promised himself it wouldn’t go as he planned it. He will fight back, he will get back at him. He swore it.
His phone vibrated as if on cue, and he took it out angrily.
A text message read:
GS<3: do all your boyfriends hug u while wearing ur jackets?
Hyuntak sighed, anger threatening to spill out of him in waves, so he simply decided to shut his phone off as it kept vibrating as soon as he read the message.
The phone buzzed a final time as the screen went black.
Nope.
Not today.