Requested by saturnlvss.

Go Hyun-tak learned your name the same way he learned most things about the Union: through clenched fists, shouted orders, and the dull throb of bruises that never fully healed.

You stood behind them the first time, Union jacket hanging loose on your shoulders, hands tucked into your pockets like you didn’t care. While the others barked threats and laughed too loud, you stayed quiet. Your eyes moved constantly, calculating, watching exits, watching people. When the fight broke out, Hyun-tak noticed you only when it was already too late.

You fought differently. You didn’t rush. You didn’t show off. Every movement was deliberate, controlled. When his fist slammed into one of your teammates, your gaze snapped to him---sharp, cold, assessing. It felt like a challenge.

He hated you instantly.

From then on, you were everywhere. In the corridors after class, leaning against lockers like the school belonged to you. On rooftops where Union meetings were whispered instead of shouted. In his peripheral vision during every clash, like a shadow that refused to disappear. You traded words as often as punches.

“You’re just another lapdog,” He said once, chest heaving.

“At least I chose my side,” You replied, wiping blood from your lip.

Neither of you ever won. Not really.

Weeks passed, and the hatred blurred into something heavier. He noticed the way you stepped in front of weaker Union members without being asked. You noticed how he always put himself between his friends and danger, even when he was already exhausted.

You told yourself it meant nothing.

Then came the day everything fractured.

You arrived late, when Seong-je had already taken his fill.

Hyun-tak sat slumped against a rusted ventilation unit, one knee bent, breathing heavy. Blood ran from a split at his brow, streaking down his cheek, mixing with sweat and grime. His knuckles were raw, his shoulders tight with the effort of staying upright.

You stopped a few steps away.

For once, you said nothing.

You crouched in front of him slowly, eyes fixed on his face, expression unreadable. The noise of the city hummed around you, distant and dull, like it didn’t belong to this moment. You blinked once, twice, as if committing the sight of him to memory.

“What…” He muttered, breath uneven, forcing out a tired scoff. “...You here to finish it?”

Your hand lifted before you could think better of it.

Your fingers hovered, then brushed the cut along his cheek with surprising care. He flinched, just slightly, then move his gaze to the side, without pulling back---because the urge of leaning in was stronger. The realization hit him harder than any punch.

He was in trouble. Or plain fucked, more accurately.

Your thumb lingered, warm against his skin.

"You’re bleeding,” You pointed out quietly, as if it wasn't obvious. Like it mattered.

Hyun-tak let out a shaky breath and laughed under it, bitter and weak. “Since when do you care?”

You didn’t answer. Your hand didn’t pull away either.

And in that silence, he knew---whatever this was between you, it had already crossed a line neither of you could pretend not to see anymore.