What remains, is anger and resentment, at least from Samuel.

What remains are barbed words and unwarranted sneers until blows are exchanged. Bodies marked by one another, just like their first meeting. As if all the days together, reading each other's thoughts with a look, the intimacy once upon a time, meant nothing.

What remains, is confusion, at least from Jake.

What remains, for them both, is hurt.

When your body mourns and your soul knows something is deeply wrong, yet the pain is too raw and too fresh so all you can do is sit with it. Try and make peace. Try and heal.

.

.

Samuel leaves.

Sinu is gone, Jake inherits Big Deal and all of its problems, and Samuel leaves.

The hurt and pain never heals. There is no answer and no closure because Samuel leaves.

Samuel leaves, taking away his smarts and his wits and a part of Jake.

Samuel leaves and Jake Kim no longer has an equal.

.

.

Jake taps on the name. 

Fingers moving of its own accord, possessed by a mind of their own, his current one cloudy with alcohol.

He expects nothing. An out of service automated message, his number to be blocked, the call to ring out at best. What he doesn't expect is the click of the phone and quiet breathing on the other side.

That Jake recognises, can never forget. The controlled, even, inhale and exhale. Has heard in time with own, has felt the heat prickling his skin. Breaths minging together, the gap never quite closing, the moment never feeling right. Back then.

Jake’s mouth runs. He hears himself asking when he's going to come back. He thinks there's a huff of laughter down the phone but he can't be sure.

He doesn't say anything else after that. Samuel doesn't speak at all. For a little while, they just listen to the sound of each other breathing.

.

.

A habit forms, and it's a terrible habit.

Jake allows himself to think about him when the world is hushed and the night is silent. When his only company are the twilight stars and the bitterness of beer.

He's never drunk, not even tipsy. Just enough to find an excuse and to pin his actions on liquid courage.

The calls are infrequent.

Nothing of consequence is ever spoken about, at first. They just listen to each other breathing, sometimes. Sometimes Jake talks. Samuel never reacts beyond a few grunts, occasionally a ghost of a chuckle but Jake can always feel his smile down the phone.

Maybe the worst habit of all is one Samuel can't break out of: he picks up every time.

.

.

"I've still got your old jacket."

.

.

"Things aren't great here."

.

.

"We're trying to make money through other means."

.

.

"I hate what I'm putting the boys through."

.

.

Samuel answers, he always does.

This time Jake knows there is something wrong. His breathing is ragged, laboured.

Jake asks, soft and not for the first time, "How you holding up?" and expects silence, just like all the occasions before.

Samuel's voice comes through. Strained and stiff, like he's ready to snap.

(Still, Jake can't help but think about how much he has missed hearing that timbre.)

He mentions the breakup of Gangseo Union and Gun Park's reaction. Words jumbling together, barely making any sense. Sharp and biting at times, lost and fearful at others.

Jake listens until dawn breaks and Samuel's voice turns raspy and hoarse.

In the cold morning light, their distance is apparent. The way their life is moving in different directions is glaring. More than anything, Jake wants to hold him and tell him it's going to be fine.

He can do neither.

Instead he offers a small vulnerability, another piece of himself, and tells Samuel that he misses him.

The quiet chuckle, the first sign of lucidity in hours, traverses the distance and makes its way to Jake's ears.

.

.

The ice breaks and thaws.

A bigger part of Samuel breaks and fractures too.

He gives in. He reciprocates.

Once in a blue moon, Samuel will call Jake. When his heart is weak and his resolve wanes and his defences are down. 3am calls to vent and talk and Jake will quietly ask "how are you doing" and Samuel will sigh and think about Big Deal.

Think about Jake Kim sitting on the other side of the phone. Probably lying in bed, body relaxed and easy, staring at the ceiling and smiling at his voice.

.

.

Barriers slam shut full-force when Samuel says he is joining Workers.

It's not a betrayal, it's not a personal affront, yet Jake can't help but take it that way.

He wants to demand how could you. To rehash old wounds and ask how could you leave Big Deal, how could you leave me, why did you shut me out, why did you hate me, do you still hate me?

No words come. Just quiet fury as an ache settles into his chest.

The barriers try to shut but it can’t close fully. Neither will let them. A sliver of light still peeks through.

.

.

The calls don't stop.

It's an addiction neither wants to nor can break off. Drawn together and inexplicably linked.

Jake doesn't use the excuse of alcohol anymore.

Samuel didn't have an excuse in the first place

It's a way of letting each other know that they're thinking about them. Even with everything they have to tiptoe around, the divergence of their lives, the issues and trauma, they're still there.

And each time one of them picks up, they're letting the other know that they're thinking about them too.

.

.

Samuel hears about Jake's arrest before it happens.

It's Jerry Kwon that texts him, and Samuel wonders how much he knows, if Jake has said anything.

Jerry keeps it to the point, details provided on a need to know basis. No questions, no forced niceties.

Samuel thinks the gambling ring could have worked but it's bizarre, really. A plan that seems like it was devised by himself, when in actual fact it comes from someone that prides themselves on better morals and principles.

He thinks of Jake's desperation to have arrived at that. Rather than feeling satisfaction and relishing in his defeat, like he would have for anyone else that he considers a rival, Samuel feels disappointment and empathy. And the feeling of cold dread and worry that he won't hear from Jake for months.

He doesn't know what to do with that.

Nevertheless, he marks his calendar with the day of Jake's release.

.

.

Jake has his first taste of freedom and calls him.

It's the first number he dials, the first person he thinks of, has thought of for months.

For years.

.

.

Jake says he wants to kill Gun Park and Samuel thinks it's the best thing he's ever heard.

Samuel’s brain whirs and ideas form.

The first time they lock eyes again, it's under circumstances neither of them wants.

Samuel, as a dog of the Workers, and Jake, desperately searching for Sinu and out for blood.

On Big Deal Street, an uneasy alliance is offered between both crews.

Jake Kim accepts. His mind tells him it's the right thing to do - compromise on his morals once again so that Big Deal survives another day and to refocus on their end goal. His heart tells him that he only accepted because Samuel is there.

Relief and elation floods his body. For the first time in years, they will be on the same side again.

Samuel anticipated bitterness and anger at seeing the son of Gapryong Kim. Despite all the nights and hours on the phone, had thought seeing him in the flesh was bound to bring out feelings of inadequacy and inferiority.

Yet today, his eyes rake over his strong, powerful figure and it arouses other stirrings.

Their time is cut short. Together they barely have time to reminisce under the ever watchful eyes of Eugene but Jake doesn’t miss the way Samuel looks at him and Samuel doesn’t miss the way it’s returned.

.

.

The calls continue.

Samuel gives information about their former No.1.

.

.

In the cell, surrounded by names etched on stone and reflecting the deterioration of Sinu Han, they both break in different ways.

Samuel wants to be King and Jake wants to kill him. To pummel his fists into his tear-stained face and scream. Tear him to pieces, searching for any traces of humanity left. How could he do this to Sinu, how could he do this to Big Deal, how could he do this to him. All those nights filled with hushed words for one another or falling asleep to quiet, steady breaths, and he had been hiding this.

Surrounded by names etched on stone and the tallying of days, Jake pins Samuel against the wall and crashes their lips together.

Unleashes all his fury and frustration and hate and passion in the cold, dank room. Haunted by memories and what-ifs, pushed over the edge and following his rage all the way down.

It’s ugly, it’s savage. There’s blood and bruises and sweats and groans.

Samuel meets him beat for beat.

.

.

The calls stop.

The partnership splinters.

Jake’s fingers still ghost over his name but he can’t bring himself to call him.

Samuel busies himself with Workers until he pushes all thoughts of Jake Kim from his mind. It doesn’t work.

He wonders why he doesn’t call. He wonders why he can’t make the first move.

.

.

In the middle of the fight, tensions running high, both sides ready to kill, Samuel receives a message:

‘All we’re missing is you lol.’

Hears “Yo Samuel, we still have your old coat.”

Sees the forced grin and the anguish in his eyes.

A last ditch attempt to bring him back to Big Deal. Jake Kim laying out his cards for all to witness, heart on his sleeve.

Everything becomes a mess, even more so, after that.

.

.

Jake’s own subconscious makes a fool out of him, mocking and sneering, inner voice reminiscent of Samuel’s dry and sardonic tone.

He’s all he can think about. Can’t even revel fully  in the joy of Sinu being back, partake wholeheartedly in the celebrations.

Because Sinu’s return only highlights, emphasises, what is missing.

.

.

Samuel traces his lips, wishes his fingers were the heat of someone else.

Presses his thumb to the pulse in his neck. Recalls purple mottled skin there, broken and bleeding. How he had relished the pain thrumming for days after as he thinks of who had bitten him.

.

.

Jake makes the first move. Jake always makes the first move.

Arranges a meeting under the pretence of preparing for the war against Workers. Of revealing his trump card and his agreement with Charles Choi. Of bringing Samuel back to Big Deal… But really, it’s to bring Samuel home and to his side.

Another last ditch attempt.

(In truth, there will never be a last anything where Samuel is concerned.)

.

.

Samuel barely hears the conversation.

All he remembers is the request to meet at the pier once again and agreeing to it before he can even consider what it truly means and the consequences.

Samuel doesn't think anything of the way he prepares, the extra care in how he dresses, how he pauses to consider his cologne.

He doesn't dwell on the fact that he arrives there hours earlier than planned, and how Jake is already waiting.

.

.

The plan is half baked at best and of course it’s on Samuel to pick through the holes and relay the groundworks. Seal any chances of mistakes and create an unshakeable foundation.

They’re always worked better together, the two of them. Jake can’t help but smile as Samuel tells him the new plan. It’s better than anything he could have thought of.

He offers again for Samuel to rejoin Big Deal. For the war he says. For me, for us he means.

Samuel hesitates. The offer is tempting. More tempting that it should have any right to be.

For the first time since disbanding Gangseo, his future is hazy and distorted, vision compromised. What would it mean if he stays at Workers? What would it mean if he fights by Jake’s side?

He tries to think what the end game looks like. Attempts to figure five moves ahead, ten, twenty. 

(Has tried to visualise making the right moves before even Gangseo Union. Learned to strategise with his mother and her hair-trigger temper. Before he had any strength, before he knew he could be punishing also.)

The decision is taken out of his hand when Jake grabs his. Confesses something they both know, but have never dared to utter out loud.

“I want you,” Jake offers simply, tracing over the tattoos on Samuel’s knuckles. “It’s always been you.”

It’s everything and nothing. 

There must be a catch. 

Samuel wants to throw up. He wants to call him crazy, a fool, tell him that he has truly lost the plot. He wants to jump and shout and come apart at the seams. He wants time to stop and live in this moment forever. He wants to rewind back the years so he can never meet Jake. He wants to recoil and flinch and snatch his hand away - but the softness, the tenderness of Jake’s touch he knows in his bones will one day kill him.

Will drag him and his dwindling sanity down. His inferiority, his superiority, all his complexities will be taken apart by Jake Kim.

But maybe. Perhaps. They can rebuild each other. They’ve always worked better together, the two of them.

Samuel still can’t see the future clearly. However, it’s one he thinks he can settle for. With Jake Kim. Drawn together and inexplicably linked. Better side by side than apart. 

They stand there for hours. Until the moon brightens the sky and the stars glitter and Jake’s fingers intertwine with his. Both staring out at the water, the ebb and flow of the tide.

Samuel wants his confession to be drowned out by the waves, but. The words have choked him for the last couple hours, maybe even for years. He doesn’t want them to choke him forever.

Spoken into the air and carried away by the wind, “It’s always been you too.”