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1
The first time Hyuntak saw Humin cry was also the first time he saw him at all. It was the end of their first day of middle school, and Humin was hunched over in one of Hyuntak’s shortcut alleys next to a puddle. In the puddle, a book was soaking up water.
Hyuntak bent down to pick it up and the kid he didn’t know yet suddenly looked up and snatched it back.
“It’s m-mine!” He said between hiccups, eyes as red as the character’s hair on the book’s cover.
“Are you okay?” Hyuntak asked, only a little upset to be accused of stealing when he just wanted to help.
Humin all-but-gracefully wiped the snot off his face with the sleeve of his slightly too-big uniform. “I’m fi-ine.”
“Are you upset about your book? I’m sure you can get another one.”
Still crying, Humin scowled at Hyuntak. “It’s not a book, it’s a manhwa. It’s a special limited edition of Slam Dunk. I saved my allowance for it all summer. I can’t get another one.”
“Ahh… Want me to help you dry this one? I don’t know how well it will work on your b– I mean your manhwa, but my mom did it for my workbook last summer and it worked great. I wish it didn’t because then I had to do all the exercises in it…”
Humin sniffled. “You c-can fix it?”
Hyuntak nodded enthusiastically with a big smile.
And so they started walking together toward Hyuntak’s house.
“What’s your name, by the way?” He asked Humin when the latter had stopped crying.
“Park Humin. But everyone calls me Baku.”
“That’s fun, I like that! My name’s Go Hyuntak.”
“I can call you Gotak if you want.”
He didn’t know if it was because of the nickname or Humin’s smile, wide and bright despite just having cried so much, but Hyuntak knew then that they would be friends for a long time.
2
Hyuntak was almost falling asleep when he was shaken out of his stupor by Humin’s sniffling next to him. He blinked himself awake and looked at the other boy. Humin’s cheeks were drenched, his chin was shaking, and he still had that habit of wiping his nose with his sleeve.
Out of all the movies they’d watched together, he hadn’t expected Humin to cry watching Train to Busan, a movie about zombies.
He snorted. Humin glanced at him and frowns, aiming a punch at his arm. All in all, it was more of a shove than anything, an act of protest.
“You’re such a wimp,” Hyuntak says, shoving back with his shoulder.
“You’d be sad too if you were paying attention!”
Hyuntak shrugged, but he grabbed the tissue box from his bedside table and offered it to Humin. Humin scrunched his nose in pretend disgust.
“I don’t want any of your jerk out tissues.”
“It’s jerk off, you jerk. You’re getting your snot everywhere, I don’t want your germs in my bed. What if they turn me stupid in my sleep?”
“You’re not even denying it!”
And with that, they were back to bickering, and the movie ended in the background, credits playing all the way to the end while the conversation flowed.
3
One night, Hyuntak’s Taekwondo practice ran late, and the night had already settled by the time he made it home.
The sight he was greeted by when he did make it reminded him of the first time they met: Humin hunched over against the wall. There was no manhwa puddle this time, though, and instinctively Hyuntak knew this was more serious than that, even before seeing Humin’s face.
“Are you a human doormat or what?” He joked, trying to lighten the mood. “Get up before someone steps on you, Baku.”
He only half expected Humin to joke back, retort that he’ll be the one stepping on them first, but Humin just gets up, head still bowed.
“Can I sleep here tonight?” He said, voice shaky.
“Sure. My dad’s on a business trip and my mom’s asleep already since she’d got an early shift, so I hope ramen is fine with you for dinner.”
“It’s fine, I’m not hungry anyway.” Humin mumbled as he followed Hyuntak inside.
Hyuntak had never known him to say no to a snack. When he switched the light on and turned back to Humin to ask him if he wants anything else, he took in the sight of him.
Humin’s lip was split, the blood already dark and coagulated on it. His cheek was red, too, but not like he got punched, like he got slapped.
“Baku, what happened?” Hyuntak said, stepping closer to look at him. “Did you get into a fight? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s nothing. I’m just tired.”
Humin never shied away from telling Hyuntak about the fights he got in, he always told him about how many there were, how he sent them running, how heroic or cool he was. Humin not meeting his eyes and looking one wrong word away from running out of the room was a sight new to Hyuntak. And he didn’t like it one bit.
“Sit down,” he told Humin, heading to the bathroom to retrieve the aid kit he got for when he started Taekwondo and would regularly get hurt.
When he came back, Humin’s shoulders were shaking, his tears quietly falling onto his knees.
Hyuntak didn’t know what the right words would be, so he just stayed quiet and cleaned up Humin’s lip without a word. He set up a makeshift bed on the floor for Humin in silence, too. Even as both of them tucked in and turned off the light, Hyuntak didn’t say anything. He trusted Humin would say something when he was ready.
He couldn’t sleep but he stayed unmoving in his bed, listening to Humin’s breath, waiting for something to happen.
“You asleep?” Humin asked, his voice rough but controlled.
“Hm,” Hyuntak simply replied.
“It’s my dad,” Humin finally explained. “He had a bit too much to drink. I got a little too upset. I just didn’t want to stay there tonight.”
“It’s okay,” said Hyuntak, “you can come whenever you want, you don’t have to explain anything.”
“Thanks, Gotak. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Hyuntak resisted the urge to tease him again. He really wanted Humin to know that he’d always be welcome in Hyuntak’s home.
“Good night, Baku.”
“Night.”
4
“What are you saying?” Humin had said, his tone tinted with confusion and anger. “What does that mean?”
“That means he won’t be able to practice Taekwondo professionally, his knee won’t support that intensity of exercise,” the doctor had replied.
“But you said you fixed it,” Humin continued, raising his voice. “You said he’d recover 100% mobility with proper care.”
Every thing the doctor repeated to them made Humin angrier and angrier, at them for not doing a good enough job, at Seongje for messing up Hyuntak’s leg, and surely at himself for being the reason Hyuntak had even been there to be messed with.
The doctor and nurses had started exchanging worried looks, probably wondering when they needed to bring in security, but Hyuntak stepped in first. Well, cut in, since he wouldn’t be able to step anywhere for a few more days after his surgery.
“Baku,” he called him.
When Humin turned around, Hyuntak could see his eyes rimmed with tears, brought up by his anger and desperation, and he knew Humin was fighting to not let them fall.
“It’s okay, Baku,” he repeated, “I’ll be okay.”
He didn’t believe it, but he needed to say it, to convince himself that he would be, eventually, but he needed Humin to help him believe, too.
And when he cried in his turn, after the medical staff left his room, Humin said it back to him, hugging him from his bedside.
“You’ll be okay, Gotak, I’ve got you.”
5
It had become an implicit part of their routine, for Humin to slip into Hyuntak’s room through the unlocked window so he wouldn’t bother Hyuntak’s parents when it was late already.
Therefore, Hyuntak only lifted his head from his pillow for a moment before letting it fall back down. He shuffled toward the wall on his mattress and lifted his blanket.
“Futon’s in the wash,” he simply told Humin.
Humin didn’t say anything, he just removed his shoes and winter jacket before sliding in next to Hyuntak. His clothes were cold from the winter air outside, but Hyuntak didn’t say anything either.
“He lost it when I mentioned mom,” Humin said.
Hyuntak hummed.
“I told him that she’d understand, if she was here.”
Hyuntak didn’t ask what she’d understand, but he laid on his back to listen to Humin if he wanted to say it anyway. He didn’t. Instead, he started crying quietly, his forehead falling onto Hyuntak’s shoulder, his tears soaking his T-shirt – one of Humin’s that he forgot here a while ago but never asked to have back.
Usually, Humin’s tears dried quickly, if he didn’t fall asleep before that happened. But that time, it kept going. The sobs stopped, but the tear stain on Hyuntak’s shoulder only grew.
Hyuntak turned his head to the side to look at Humin. The sight of his best friend so bereft and wrecked made his chest tighten. Sadness didn’t look good on Humin. Hyuntak wished he could make it all go away so Humin would be his cheerful and smiley self again.
In a moment of weariness, Hyuntak bent down and pressed a kiss to the corner of Humin’s eye, wanting to chase the the tears, to swallow his friend’s sorrow whole. He freezed when the taste of salt brought him back to full consciousness.
Humin was frozen, too.
But slowly, oh so slowly, he moved. Not back, not pushing Hyuntak away. Just up, until their eyes were at the same height, making Hyuntak wonder what he would see if it wasn’t so dark in his room.
And then, Hyuntak could feel Humin’s nose against his own, he could feel his breath on his philtrum, the shakiness of his tense neck, the unsteady rhythm of his heart in his chest, pressed against Hyuntak’s arm.
And then, then, his lips. Humin’s lips pressing with a gentleness Hyuntak had never known him to have against Hyuntak’s lips.
Hyuntak didn’t dare move. Did Humin want to do this? Did he think Hyuntak wanted him to? Did Hyuntak want him to? Yes. Yes, he did. Maybe not then, maybe not like this, but he couldn't deny the burst of warmth that overtook his stomach.
Would Humin pull back? How long would he stay like this, lips against lips without moving? Hyuntak wondered but he didn’t want to know, so he kissed back.
It was still slow, soft, hesitant, almost making him forget to breathe, but he kissed Humin back.
It tasted of salt.
They fell asleep sharing breath, foreheads pressed against each other.
When Hyuntak woke up, Humin had already left.
+1
Throughout the school day, Humin had barely looked at Hyuntak. He wasn’t fully avoiding him, but he was far from his usual self, didn’t tease Hyuntak once, didn’t throw his arm around Hyuntak’s shoulders while they went to get a snack, didn’t try to steal anything from his lunch tray.
Hyuntak hated it. He couldn’t bare the thought of Humin not being his best friend anymore.
So, when classes ended, Hyuntak grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to the basketball club room.
“Look, I know I messed up,” Hyuntak starts. “But we’ve been friends a long time, we can get through this, right? We can just pretend it never happened– or– or we can say we just wanted to test it out with a guy, just to know if we’re like that, or– I don’t know, but I can’t deal with the cold shoulder. I just can’t–”
He hadn’t realized until Humin cupped and wiped his face, but Hyuntak had started to cry of frustration.
“I’m sorry,” Humin says. “I just… I thought I made a mistake and this would be best, but I was wrong and I hated every time I had to bite my tongue not to talk to you.”
Hyuntak looks up and Humin is looking back with a smile, despite the tears in the corners of his eyes.
“No hard feelings?” Humin asks, and how could Humin ever resent him?
“No hard feelings.”
“Just romantic ones,” Humin adds, smirking now.
Hyuntak rolls his eyes. “I don’t think you and romantic can go together in a sentence.”
Humin pouts. “I was doing pretty well right now, though?”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
“You help me sleep at night.”
“Oh my God, shut up, Baku.”
“Can I kiss you again?”
Hyuntak’s breath hitches a little. Maybe he was wrong, maybe Humin can be a little bit of a romantic.
“Please.”