“I appreciate you wrapping it up nicely though, Baek Yeonjun-ssi.”
It was clear pronunciation. A manner of speaking that put force into each syllable of his name. Yeonjun erased even his breathing. As if dropping his breath downward with a thud. Eunha took a final deep drag on the filter. He pressed out the cigarette and flicked it into the ashtray, then lightly brushed off his hands.
“…Yes.”
“First of all. It doesn’t matter to me. Whether you think strangely of me or not.”
“Ah.”
A single syllable. Eunha, who had impassively conveyed his position, stood up from his seat. Having been sitting at the edge of the eaves, quite a few raindrops had splashed on his shoulders. He brushed off the wet area while looking down.
He curved his eyes out of courtesy toward Yeonjun, who was sitting with his back against the exterior wall, looking up at him.
“Then smoke and come in.”
He took a step. And stopped. A hand that dug into the inside of his sleeve gripped his wrist weakly. An index finger grazed the tendon of his wrist. It was a cold hand. Goosebumps rose sharply. A stuffy sensation quickly filled the area of skin that was tightly gripped. Because it was a rainy day.
Soon an opaque voice was heard.
“……Do you really have one?”
“……”
“Someone you’re seeing.”
“What if I do?”
Eunha, who had retorted, lowered his eyelids. The gaze looking up was pitch black. Eyes with the light extinguished. Eyes locked in darkness.
Over those silent pupils, an intense regret flashed by for a moment. Eunha pressed down the surging laughter deep into his throat. Because he thought it was the most unaffected appearance he’d seen during all this time.
“What if I don’t.”
He spoke in a light tone as if joking. As if to say, what would that have to do with us anyway. Yeonjun gently parted the gap between his lips, then closed them again while exhaling a low breath. Eunha tilted his head to the side with a “hmm.” He looked into Yeonjun as if he were peculiar.
He’d been thinking this since a bit ago. What meaning did all of this have.
“If I don’t….”
What meaning did it really have. What use was it. Why do such bothersome things. The path was one anyway. The final destination was one anyway. When the easy path was clearly drawn out.
The gripped wrist gradually became sticky. It slipped with friction. Closely trimmed nails scraped down the back of his hand. His throat felt stuffy, clammy, and itchy. It was maddeningly itchy. He really didn’t understand. It was almost to the point of being a bit irritating. So.
“Please give me your contact information.”
Why go around saying such things. In this atmosphere right now. Just one phrase of wanting to have sex would do.
* * *
Languid. Eunha dragged his body up. He sat up weakly, pressing on the mattress. Finally, two hours after intercourse had ended.
He’d been repeating the cycle of staying with his eyes closed for a long while, then when drowsiness came over him, lifting his heavy eyelids to stare meaninglessly at somewhere in the air.
He couldn’t go wash due to the sense of exhaustion, but there wasn’t an unbearable sense of foreign matter. It was thanks to Jeong Taegeon cleaning his body neatly with wet wipes. Eunha looked around vacantly. The messed-up sheets and blanket were bundled together and thrown in a corner of the floor, and what was clinging to his body was freshly taken out fluffy bedding.
The fact that it was all Jeong Taegeon’s doing left a sensation that grated like crumpled paper.
When a partner whose main purpose was sexual relations began to show behavior they didn’t usually do, without fail, trouble would arise before long. Why are you interfering. Can’t I even interfere this much with you. What kind of relationship do we have…… Such emotional problems. Sharp conflicts that arose from them. Verbal fights. Dog fights. Sometimes it even escalated to violence. Eunha had experience being hit by partners a few times. Of course, he didn’t just get hit. It was literally dog fights.
Even when he carefully selected his partners, similar kinds of problems always erupted. As if relationships between people weren’t an area that could be controlled by just a few verbal promises.
Eunha, who exhaled a deep sigh, got up from his seat and roughly put on clothes. As he stepped out to the balcony, he stuck a cigarette between his lips. While lighting it, Jeong Taegeon, who had been puffing away at cigarettes for a while already, turned to look this way. Wearing only pants and staying outside so comfortably.
“Did you get some sleep?”
“Why didn’t you leave?”
“I was going to eat dinner before going.”
The ashtray he checked was already heaped with cigarette butts. During the two hours Eunha was lost in thought, Jeong Taegeon hadn’t left and had stayed on the balcony the whole time. From the looks of it, he’d burned through easily half a pack at once.
“How many did you smoke.”
“This is the mast. You woke up right on time.”
“Suddenly chain smoking……”
Eunha, who muttered indifferently as if it had nothing to do with him, looked straight ahead. He was feigning a calm face, but inside his thoughts were multiplying. The premonition wasn’t good. As he looked out at the night view, Taegeon filled the gap between them and approached from the side.
“More than that, what wind blew through?”
“What.”
“How come you, Lee Eunha, called me first for once.”
“Is it important?”
“It’s important. Because it’s the first time.”
“……”
“Until now, I was always the only one pouncing like a dog in heat.”
Eunha looked at him. The pupils he faced glistened as if oiled. Those eyes curved cunningly.
“Ah. It’s also the first time you directly climbed on top yourself.”
“……”
“Thought you’d get devoured?”
At the teasing tone, Eunha only wrinkled his brow slightly.
“What change came over your feelings.”
He leaned his upper body dangerously outside the railing. Bringing his face close as if demanding an answer, he wrapped an arm around his waist. He groped the body he’d pulled close impurely. It was unnecessary skinship.
For someone who’d been smoking cigarettes one after another as if carrying all the world’s worries, he looked far too pleased. Eunha, who had been looking with complexity at him approaching close to the lit cigarette without hesitation, pulled his neck back.
“A bit…… hot.”
“Hyung is the one asking.”
“What change. There’s no reason.”
“You do something you don’t usually do, and there’s no reason?”
“None. Even if there was, it’s not important.”
What’s so important about that. What meaning does it have for you and me. It really couldn’t hold any meaning. He didn’t know what meaning he was assigning to it on his own.
However, even at the cold retort, the man didn’t withdraw the generous look spread across his face. He just pressed his body close and clung to him while offering criticisms interpreted as he pleased, saying things like his temperament was terrible or he never spoke prettily. Eunha let out a snicker, dumbfounded.
He knew well what kind of people Taegeon had met until now and what type he preferred. After three months of being together and hearing various dirty jokes and speech habits, there was no way not to know.
Eunha considered spitting out wicked lines that would respond to his partner’s tastes, then gave up. As always, after relations, he had no energy. He quietly burned the cigarette while inhaling deeply.
The rain had stopped, but the distinctive fishy iron smell of rainy days remained clammily.
It was barely half a day since the incident with Yeonjun. Eunha recalled the morning’s events. The sound of rain covering his eardrums in disarray. The sensation of a hand gripping his wrist. Eyes looking up quietly from a low position. The neck extending straight below the jawline and the collarbone area flushed reddish.
He still didn’t really know why his lower abdomen had tightened. It might have simply been intoxication by the heavy atmosphere. Because rainy days make one’s sensibilities abundant.
That’s why the man was irritating. When he’d even gained certainty that they had the same inclination, what need was there to deliberate further. His attitude, the physiological reactions revealed through his transparent skin, and the looks occasionally revealed were clear to the point of being blatant, yet all he said was to ask for contact information—it was deflating. He kept wondering what he was trying to do.
So he gave his contact information. It was a feeling close to spite, not much different from the mindset with which he’d responded to the suggestion to have a meal. Around then, curiosity arose. What would he do after getting the contact information. What amazing thing was he trying to do after putting in such effort…… It was a number that had already been sold as much as it could be sold, so there was nothing to be concerned about. It held no meaning. Though it seemed to hold meaning for the man.
