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Tormented cursed soul. Cold, stuffy night, to the taste of fungi— and Sungchan has no idea.
If he were a real man, he wouldn't open the door so brutally, wouldn't have a smile on his face.
He wouldn't come so cunningly, serenely, as if he carried the world when his calloused hands grabbed Eunseok from behind, out of surprise that wasn't really surprising due to the noise he'd made with his footsteps, with the door wide open and his rough breathing.
And there was nothing cunning about him, actually. Eunseok already knew that Sungchan was a complete idiot in the little details, without really knowing, no evidence other than the judgment of his eyes and heart.
Maybe it was his fault for having such taste— he liked false men. Cowards.
Sungchan did everything the same, always. Love. He whispered, always, and pulled him back like a doll. He'd put his leg between Eunseok's, and his fingers would go up, looking for a spot that would tickle him, even though he had already explored all the skin within his reach over the years—because he never gave up. He had hope that he would find that spot. And if Eunseok turned his face, Sungchan would kiss him on the cheek. If Eunseok tried to escape from his arms, they would immediately fall into bed. If Eunseok laughed, it was a lucky night, and Sungchan would laugh as well—he would laugh as if thanking the night for another day of life, and he would turn him over, kiss him with all the passion he had, with all the tiredness of his hellish work. A passion that never ended, tiredness that only accumulated.
A fight with tongues, arms here and there—Eunseok liked to fight. He liked to push, kick, choke. Liked making Sungchan sweat, laugh at his stubbornness, to make him pull him hard (even though he would never do otherwise, anyway).
That night, stuffy and not at all sneaky, Eunseok turns his face to receive the wet kiss on the cheek. That night, aware of his lost soul, he squirms, throws himself forward, and they both fall.
Sungchan never lets go of him, and he murmurs something that Eunseok can't hear properly. That Eunseok doesn't really want to hear.
He laughs against his neck, kisses his neck, and he feels all the vibrations along his body.
They used to fight too, on college days, just for fun. That time when Sungchan had only started dating Wonbin and Eunseok thought it wouldn't last long.
That time when he watched Sungchan so gently touching Wonbin, talking so sweetly. That time when, squeezed between his legs, wrapped around his arms, he discovered he liked Sungchan better that way. Rough. Crude. Unpolished.
That's what he loves about false men— Eunseok makes them real. That's the real you, he said as Sungchan kissed his neck the first time it happened. His best friend. Barbaric liar. Desperate coward.
That's what he loves about Sungchan. You're only real with me. He repeated it so many times Sungchan started saying it too, but now that Sungchan tells him that with such honesty he doesn't know if he should believe it.
He thinks he fell into his own trap. ‘This is it, Eunseok,’ he hears it, this time. ‘I'm only myself when I'm with you.’
Eunseok whimpers, starting to fade. Sungchan keeps kissing him, and his hands on his stomach keep pulling Eunseok against his body. His thrusts against his back start slow, weak, but Eunseok is already desperate.
Sungchan's hand finds its way to his neck, and the wrap is already familiar but so good. Eunseok closes his eyes and he thinks he will die with the hardness that Sungchan humps against his ass and the tightness of his hand around his throat.
He's hard— he knows he's fucking leaking inside his underwear. He'll come. He'll come and Sungchan won't even kiss him.
His moans sound muffled while Sungchan groans like an animal.
He turns his face like he can, and hopes Sungchan understands what he means. They lock their eyes, and Sungchan doesn't give him anything he wants but a tighter hold around his throat.
It's with a squeeze that Eunseok comes in his pants. He opens his mouth and no sound comes out of it— he feels Sungchan's cold fingers touching his tongue and closes his mouth around the digits. He gags over the two fingers sliding in and out of his face and that's when Sungchan moans so loudly it sounds almost like a scream. Sadistic fucker, coming from his struggle.
The weight on his back disappears and all the fingers in his body are gone. He takes a deep breath and he turns over and sees Sungchan's face clearly for the first time in the night.
The cum in his pants is starting to make him uncomfortable but all he wants is to never leave the bed. Sungchan is smiling when he stands up. ‘You still have those pants I left here last time, right?’
Eunseok nods, tired, and closes his eyes. He doesn't know how much time passed, or whatever Sungchan did in his house, but he only opens his eyes again when he feels Sungchan getting in the bed again.
The man hugs him, chest to chest, and leaves a kiss again on his cheek. ‘I missed you,’ he whispers, and Eunseok doesn't say anything back.
He sighs instead and Sungchan keeps smiling. Eunseok reaches for Sungchan's left hand and starts to play with the accessory on his ring finger. He takes off the gold ring and places it on his own. He lets his hands rest on Sungchan's chest and they both stare at it. He was the one who helped Wonbin buy it.
‘It looks pretty on you,’ Sungchan says, and kisses his neck this time. Eunseok nods, shivering.
Sungchan keeps kissing him, all over his neck, then his face. ‘Okay, enough,’ Eunseok murmurs. That's really not it.
Eunseok pushes him weakly, when Sungchan lets go completely of him, they both sit face to face.
After a few seconds of silence, ‘Sungchan,’ Eunseok calls out, and Sungchan waits— for something, anything. His eyes shine, and he looks so young, but, god damn, they're pushing 30. How long are they gonna be like this? How long will Sungchan still fuck around? ‘I wish you were dead.’
Sungchan stays still, like he's still waiting, and smiles. In a quick movement, both of his hands are in his armpit, and Sungchan starts tickling him.
Eunseok falls over, and he laughs like he never did in all his life. He screams some things that he's too embarrassed to admit, and he cries a little too.
‘My love,’ Sungchan calls him this time, and stops. ‘I have to go.’
Eunseok still laughs a little, and he sits again, wiping the tears off his face as Sungchan stands up. He watches him, and all of it goes away: the happiness forced out of him. ‘Coward. Don't come back.’
Sungchan smiles, and when he bends, the peck he gives Eunseok is warm and doesn't taste like anything. Only fatigue; will.
‘Did you hear me?’ He asks, and Sungchan nods. Eunseok's hands hold him by the neck, and he slips his tongue inside and this time their kiss tastes like ramen, because that's what Eunseok had for dinner. He feels Sungchan touching his stomach, feels his hand getting inside his shirt, sliding up through his skin. He wants more, more. Wants Sungchan to fuck him. And they don't stop kissing because Eunseok never lets him go. He knows his nails are starting to scratch his neck but Sungchan keeps squeezing him, keeps whimpering against his mouth like he could give up everything for Eunseok. He wants him to give up everything for him. Wants to live with him forever in that tiny house, (and they'd make it a home), in that cold, stuffy apartment.
(He wonders if that's why Sungchan likes his place so much, if its smallness makes him feel big, occupying everything that should be just Eunseok's, stealing everything from him. He likes that Eunseok owns nothing, that he's nothing without him. He always says it— 'you're so small in my hands, Eunseok.'
If the smallness of his place makes Sungchan out of breath, if it makes him drunk, if the paralysis of thoughts due to lack of oxygen makes him feel drugged. Maybe that's why he keeps coming back. It's addiction.
Sungchan's house is huge. He wonders if that's another reason, if the emptiness reflects his heart, if it sobers him up.)
And they would live like fungi— damp dark corners. Would die suffocated, sprawled in the mess of love and hateful whispers. Happily suffocated, happily raw. Wretched souls.
The bed makes a sound when they fall over it again, and Eunseok opens his eyes. He lets go of Sungchan and pushes him off. He stares at the ceiling, and is starting to get annoyed at Sungchan for not taking his hands off his stomach. He keeps gently caressing it, but that's not for him— that softness that makes him want to throw up.
This false softness, tenderness. Is it really false, after all? It's starting to go to Eunseok's head— what's for him and what's for Wonbin. What's fake and what's real.
‘Bring dumplings with you the next time. Leave the keys,’ he rips off the hand roughly.
‘Eunseok,’ Sungchan calls out for the last time. ‘Love,' and Eunseok takes off the ring in his hand and throws it at the man without looking. He closes his eyes because Eunseok doesn't want to watch him leaving.
False man. Wretched soul.