raspberries and mocha | heejake ✔

50

The beach was quiet, the crashing waves filling the otherwise still night with their steady rhythm. Jake hated how easily he'd found Heeseung's car among the sea of black vehicles lining the parking lot. It annoyed him how familiar every detail of it was—the sleek curves, the shine on the hood, even the slightly scuffed handle that he used to tease Heeseung about fixing.

He approached the car, heart pounding in his chest. The windows were tinted, revealing nothing of the man inside. Jake swallowed hard and raised his hand, hesitating for a moment before finally knocking on the glass.

The lock clicked, and the back door opened without a word. Jake peered inside, his heart twisting the second his eyes landed on Heeseung.

He was sitting there, leaning against the door on the opposite side, staring out the window as though Jake wasn't even there. His posture was casual, but Jake could see the tension in the way his fingers rested on his thigh. Heeseung was still wearing his work clothes—a black button-up and matching cargo pants. Jake recognized the outfit immediately, right down to the two undone buttons that revealed the curve of Heeseung's collarbone.

And there it was—the silver pendant around Heeseung's neck, glinting faintly in the dim light. The one Jake had given him.

He still wears it. 

His chest tightened painfully.

But Heeseung didn't even glance in his direction. His gaze remained fixed outside, on the horizon, as if Jake's presence was nothing more than a passing breeze.

Jake frowned, stepping into the car and pulling the door shut behind him. The interior smelled faintly of leather and freshly brewed mocha—a scent that Jake had always found both comforting and maddening.

He eased into the seat, leaning against the door and letting out a soft sigh. "You called me here," he muttered, his voice low. "Are you just going to ignore me now?"

Heeseung didn't respond immediately. His eyes remained on the window, watching the faint glow of the distant streetlights reflecting on the ocean. The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

Finally, Heeseung spoke, his tone calm but distant. "Why did you come?"

Jake blinked, taken aback by the question. "You...you told me to. What else was I supposed to do?"

Heeseung's lips curved into a bitter smile, but he still didn't look at him. "You could've ignored it. Like you've ignored everything else."

That stung. Jake clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms as he leaned forward slightly. "That's not fair," he said, his voice trembling.

"Isn't it?" Heeseung's gaze finally shifted, his dark eyes meeting Jake's. They were tired, guarded—so unlike the Heeseung Jake had known before. "You disappeared, Jake. And now, what? You show up here like it's nothing? Like you didn't—"

"Like I didn't what?" Jake interrupted, his frustration bubbling over. "I'm trying, okay? I know I fucked up, but I'm here now."

Heeseung laughed softly, but there was no humor in it. He shook his head, looking back out the window. "You're always 'here now.' But never when it matters."

Jake opened his mouth to argue but found himself at a loss for words. Because Heeseung was right. He hadn't been there when it mattered most. And now, sitting in this car, watching Heeseung pull further and further away, Jake felt the crushing weight of regret settle over him again.

"I'm sorry," Jake whispered, the words barely audible.

Heeseung's shoulders tensed, but he didn't respond. The silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of the waves outside.