By Zephyria Glancing down past Yoon Joo-ho, who kept lunging at him, Song Hyun-soo saw Monroe struggling to follow his moving hands. Yoon Joo-ho showed no signs of backing down. With no other choice, as soon as he placed the remaining treats on the floor, Yoon Joo-ho’s lips covered Song Hyun-soo’s as if he had been waiting.
“Mmm. Mmm…”
His breath, having just brushed his teeth, was refreshing. Like a crisp apple, picked from the branch and rubbed against his pants, then bitten into. As they kissed, saliva pooled under his chin.
Yoon Joo-ho pressed closer, his tongue melting into Song Hyun-soo’s mouth. Song Hyun-soo twisted his head, barely managing to escape. Pushing away his bare chest exposed by the open robe, he pleaded,
“Let’s go. Let’s go out and do it. Huh, Senior?”
Yoon Joo-ho seemed to hesitate for a moment, then slipped his hand inside Song Hyun-soo’s t-shirt, showering kisses on his ear.
“He doesn’t know anything.”
“Ah, I’m bothered by him!”
My ears… you know they’re sensitive…
His shoulders trembled from the overwhelming pleasure that seemed to melt his hearing, but his gaze kept drifting towards Monroe. The cat, having just finished the last treats on the floor, tilted its head, looking at them as if expecting more.
In front of those clear, innocent eyes… I can’t. I can’t do it.
Just then, like salvation, Song Hyun-soo’s phone rang from his pants pocket. This time, whoever it was, he was genuinely glad.
“Jung-ho might have more to say about work.”
Seizing the moment Yoon Joo-ho paused at the ringtone, Song Hyun-soo pulled his hips back, escaping him. He pulled down his t-shirt, which had ridden up to his chest, and took out his phone from his pocket.
Ji-in Hyung’s French number
“…”
No, of course, I said I’d be glad no matter who it was, but…
Song Hyun-soo, checking Yoon Joo-ho’s expression first, tried to stand up, clutching his phone.
“It’s Hyung. I’ll take it for a moment.”
He thought Yoon Joo-ho would accept it generously, just like he had in the rooftop room last time. Although he showed his displeasure, he had never forbidden him from doing so. But not this time.
“Don’t answer it.”
He grabbed Song Hyun-soo’s wrist, the one holding the phone, and pulled it down. His voice and expression were as firm as a command.
“Still…”
“It’s just a casual call anyway.”
“There’s a time difference, and Hyung isn’t free anytime. We can’t talk whenever. It’ll only take a moment…”
Yoon Joo-ho roughly pulled Song Hyun-soo’s arm as he tried to stand up. As he was forced back down by the strong force, Yoon Joo-ho’s hand gripped his lower jaw. Holding his jaw firmly to prevent him from moving or resisting, he ground his lips together forcefully, crushing them.
This was no longer a kiss like a crisp apple or something melting.
Song Hyun-soo clenched his teeth, blocking the tongue trying to enter his mouth. He didn’t want to accept a kiss like this without knowing why.
In Song Hyun-soo’s hand, the ringtone, one of Choi Hong-seo’s songs, continued to play. Today, that melody sounded unsettling, like a prelude to a horror movie.
He managed to push his arm away and slipped out of his grasp.
“What are you doing? Why are you suddenly… Ugh.”
As he twisted his body to escape his embrace, Yoon Joo-ho grabbed both of Song Hyun-soo’s arms, forcing him to look at him. Yoon Joo-ho’s face, when they met, was contorted in pain.
“Just focus on me!”
It was probably because of that expression. Rather than being angry at his shouting or commanding tone, Song Hyun-soo momentarily worried if he was okay. His upper arm, held captive, felt like it would burst under the pressure of Yoon Joo-ho’s grip.
Quickly changing the ringtone to silent, the grip on his arm loosened. He put the phone down and instinctively hugged Yoon Joo-ho. He pressed his cheek against Yoon Joo-ho’s, stroking his stiff, rigid back.
“Okay. I won’t answer. I won’t answer.”
He whispered the same words into his ear several times.
Yoon Joo-ho’s arms slowly, and finally suffocatingly, wrapped around Song Hyun-soo’s body.
■■■
“We’ve taken over all the furniture, and the items you received today are a total of five boxes. Please check them and sign here.”
The moving company employee handed Yoon Joo-ho a tablet. Yoon Joo-ho, leaning against the hallway wall with his arms crossed, accepted it.
The boxes stacked in the room used as a storage, closest to the entrance, numbered five in total. Even considering that he had disposed of most of his belongings and furniture and only packed his personal items, Yoon Joo-ho thought it was too little for one person’s belongings.
Yoon Joo-ho counted the boxes stacked in a corner with his eyes, then returned the signed tablet to the employee. The man, who had glanced at Yoon Joo-ho from under his uniform cap, smiled as he received it.
“You’re even more handsome in person.”
“Thank you.”
“My wife is a fan. Good luck with your movie.”
It was a conventional remark, but somehow it didn’t sound false. After seeing the man off with a dry smile, he went to Monroe’s room. The moving company employees were only working near the entrance, but he had closed the door just in case Monroe got stressed.
Monroe seemed busy playing with his toys. Despite hearing unfamiliar sounds, he seemed fine. Upon seeing Yoon Joo-ho, Monroe brought his toy, dropped it, and rubbed against his calf.
“You want to play with that?”
Meow.
He lowered himself and stroked Monroe’s small back.
“Later. I’ll play with you later.”
He picked up Song Hyun-soo’s phone, left on the floor, and left the room. He glanced back once more at the open door. Monroe, circling his toys, looked at him with a wistful gaze but didn’t try to follow.
“Aren’t you coming out?”
As if that room were the entire world, as if it were enough on its own, Monroe picked up his toy again and returned to the window.
Yoon Joo-ho crossed the living room and headed for the master bedroom. Silencing his slippered steps, he quietly entered the bedroom, which was dim despite it being daytime due to the blackout curtains.
Stopping in front of the bed, Yoon Joo-ho looked down at Song Hyun-soo’s sleeping face. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, the contours of his features became clearer. The traces of fatigue on his eyes and cheeks.
After Song Hyun-soo turned off Jung Ji-in’s call, Yoon Joo-ho had dragged him into this room and undressed him. Yoon Joo-ho, pinning him down and acting roughly, Song Hyun-soo asked nothing. He simply accepted it.
Exhausted after sex that had been relentlessly persistent, he had collapsed and fallen asleep as soon as Yoon Joo-ho released him.
“S-Senior, you… you don’t tell me I’m your first either.”
Standing alone in the darkness with his hand in the pocket of his robe, Yoon Joo-ho let out a silent, bitter laugh.
The book on the table for transcription and the message written on its first page, the small cat occupying a room beyond the living room, the returned wristwatch. — He found Song Hyun-soo’s innocence, not realizing how much he had already changed him, amusing.
He tightened his grip on the phone in his pocket. After covering the naked back with a blanket, he quietly left the room. Taking Song Hyun-soo’s phone with him in his pocket.
He went to the room with the bar and filled an on the rocks glass with Johnny Walker Double Black. Sitting on a stool in front of the bar, he opened Song Hyun-soo’s phone, which had no lock set.
“…”
The top contact name caught his eye.
Yoon Joo-ho’s eyebrows twitched as he confirmed it was his contact. He couldn’t guess what it meant, but a hollow laugh escaped him at the cryptic contact name.
And among the not-so-many contacts, he soon found his target.
Ji-in Hyung’s French number
He slowly entered the long number, including the country code, into his phone. He slowly swallowed the liquor, without ice, and listened to the ringing. The call connected, not too fast, not too slow.
[allô?]
An inquisitive tone came from the other end of the line, hearing a call from an unsaved number.
[Is that Hyun-soo?]
The voice followed, checking if it might be Song Hyun-soo, who couldn’t answer the call earlier.
Meanwhile, Yoon Joo-ho, having emptied a third of the whiskey, put down the glass and opened his dry lips.
“It’s me. Can you talk?”
*HLCs 140 and 141 are double releases.