By Zephyria 
“I appreciate you trying to wrap things up, Baek Yeon-jun.”
The pronunciation was clear. Each syllable of the name was emphasized. Yeon-jun even erased his breathing, dropping it low. Eun-ha took one last deep drag from his cigarette, then flicked the ash into the ashtray after extinguishing the ember. He lightly dusted off his hands.
“…Yes.”
“For now, anyway. It doesn’t matter to me. Whether you think I’m weird or not.”
“Ah.”
A brief utterance. Eun-ha, having indifferently stated his position, rose from his spot. He’d been sitting at the edge of the eaves, so quite a few raindrops splattered on his shoulder. He brushed off the wetness and looked down.
Yeon-jun was sitting with his back against the outer wall, looking this way. Eun-ha gave him a polite eye smile.
“Then finish your cigarette and come inside.”
He took one step, then stopped. A hand snaked inside his sleeve and weakly gripped his wrist. A fingertip brushed against the tendon. It was a cold hand. Goosebumps prickled. A clammy sensation quickly filled the area where he was being held tightly. Because it was a rainy day.
Soon, a muffled voice reached him.
“…Do you really have one?”
“……”
“Someone you’re seeing.”
“What if I do?”
Eun-ha, replying, lowered his eyelids. The gaze looking up at him was pitch black. Eyes devoid of light. Eyes darkly submerged.
Across those silent pupils, a flash of intense regret momentarily flickered. Eun-ha suppressed the rising laughter deep in his throat. He thought it was the most genuine expression he’d seen in a while.
“What if I don’t?”
He said it in a light, joking tone. As if to say, what does it matter to us? Yeon-jun slightly parted his lips, exhaled a shallow breath, and then closed them again. Eun-ha tilted his head to the side with a hmm, looking at Yeon-jun as if he were strange.
He’d been thinking about it for a while now. What’s the point of all this?
“If you don’t…”
What’s the point, really? What good is it? Why bother with the trouble? The path is already clear anyway. The destination is the same in the end. An easy path is clearly laid out.
The wrist he was holding grew increasingly sticky. It slipped with friction. A closely trimmed fingernail scratched his hand as it slid down. His throat felt stuffy, clammy, and itchy. Insanely itchy. He really didn’t understand. It was almost annoying. So.
“Give me your number.”
Why only say such roundabout things? In this atmosphere. Just one word, wanting sexual intercourse, would be enough.
Lethargic. Eun-ha sluggishly roused himself. He sat up, weakly supporting himself on the mattress. It had been two hours since the sexual intercourse ended.
He’d been spending his time with his eyes closed, and when drowsiness washed over him, he’d lift his heavy eyelids and stare meaninglessly at some point in the air.
He hadn’t had the energy to wash, but there wasn’t an unbearable feeling of foreignness. It was thanks to Jeong Tae-geon, who had cleaned his body with wet wipes. Eun-ha blankly surveyed his surroundings. The messy sheets and blankets were bundled together in a corner of the floor, and what was clinging to his body were fresh, fluffy bedclothes.
The fact that it was all Jeong Tae-geon’s doing left a crumpled, unpleasant feeling.
When a partner whose main purpose was sexual relations started acting in ways they usually didn’t, trouble was bound to erupt before long. Why are you interfering? Can’t I even interfere this much? What are we to each other…? Such emotional issues. Sharp conflicts arising from them. Arguments. Dogfights. Sometimes it even escalated to violence. Eun-ha had been hit by partners a few times. Of course, he didn’t just get hit. It was literally a dogfight.
Even when he carefully chose his partners, similar problems always arose. As if relationships between people couldn’t be controlled by just a few verbal promises.
Eun-ha sighed deeply and got up, throwing on some clothes. He went out onto the balcony, placing a cigarette between his lips. As he lit it, Jeong Tae-geon, who had already been smoking like a chimney, turned to look at him. He was impressed that he was outside wearing only his pants.
“Did you get some sleep?”
“Why didn’t you leave?”
“I was going to have dinner and go.”
The ashtray he checked was already overflowing with cigarette butts. Jeong Tae-geon hadn’t left and had stayed on the balcony the whole time Eun-ha had been lost in thought for two hours. Judging by the looks of it, he’d smoked at least half a pack in one go.
“How much have you smoked?”
“This is smoking like a chimney. You woke up right on time.”
“Why the chain-smoking all of a sudden…”
Eun-ha, muttering indifferently as if it were none of his business, looked ahead. He was trying to maintain a nonchalant expression, but he was deep in thought inside. He had a bad feeling. As he looked out at the night view, Jeong Tae-geon closed the gap between them and came to his side.
“More importantly, what brought this on?”
“What?”
“Why did you call me first, Lee Eun-ha?”
“Does it matter?”
“It does. It’s the first time.”
“……”
“All this time, I’ve been the only one running at you like a horny dog.”
Eun-ha looked at him. The eyes he met glistened as if oiled. The corners of his eyes curved slyly.
“Ah. It’s also the first time you’ve climbed on top yourself.”
“……”
“Felt like I was being eaten alive?”
Eun-ha only furrowed his brow slightly at the teasing tone.
“What kind of change of heart did you have?”
Jeong Tae-geon leaned dangerously over the railing. He leaned in as if urging an answer and wrapped his arms around Eun-ha’s waist. He impurely fondled the body he had pulled close. It was unnecessary skinship.
For someone who had been smoking cigarettes as if carrying all the worries of the world, he seemed overly cheerful. Eun-ha, looking at him with a complicated expression as he fearlessly approached the cigarette, pulled his neck back.
“Careful… you’ll get burned.”
“Hyung is asking.”
“What change of heart. No reason.”
“You do something you don’t usually do, and you say there’s no reason?”
“No reason. Even if there is, it’s not important.”
What’s so important about that? What does it mean to you and me? It really couldn’t have any meaning. He didn’t know what kind of meaning he was assigning to it on his own.
However, even at the cold reply, the man didn’t lose his generous expression. He just clung to him, touching him, and grumbled that he had a terrible temper and didn’t know how to speak nicely, interpreting it as he pleased. Eun-ha was dumbfounded and chuckled.
He knew well what kind of people Jeong Tae-geon had met and what type he preferred. After sharing a bed for three months, he couldn’t help but know, having heard various dirty jokes and speech habits.
Eun-ha thought about spouting a vulgar line that would appeal to his partner’s taste, but he stopped. As always, he had no energy after sexual intercourse. He quietly smoked his cigarette and took a deep breath.
The rain had stopped, but the peculiar metallic smell of a rainy day remained damply.
It had only been half a day since the incident with Yeon-jun. Eun-ha recalled the events of the morning. The sound of rain that cluttered his eardrums. The sensation of his wrist being held. The eyes that looked up quietly from a low position. The neck that stretched straight below the jawline and the reddish collarbone area.
He still didn’t know why his lower abdomen had tightened. It could have simply been that he was intoxicated by the somber atmosphere. Rainy days make you more sensitive.
That’s why the man was annoying. Now that he had even gained the conviction that they were of the same inclination, what was the need to keep judging? His attitude, the physiological reactions revealed through his clear skin, and the occasional glimmers in his eyes were so obvious that they were almost blatant, yet all he said was to ask for his number. It was draining. He kept wondering what he was trying to do.
So he gave him his number. It was a spiteful feeling, not much different from the feeling he had when he agreed to have a meal with him. At that point, he had become curious. What was he going to do with the number he received? What great thing was he going to do with all that effort… It was a number that had already been sold as much as it could be, so there was nothing to hold back. It didn’t have any meaning. It seemed to have meaning to the man, though.