Chapter Text
Chapter 5
Please send me someone to love
The clock had just ticked past 7 AM.
Inho stirred at the warmth of skin against his cheek, as gentle fingers ran through his messy hair. On the bedside table, Inho looked through bleary eyes at the glass of whiskey Gihun had placed a few hours earlier, as requested.
The early-morning sun shone through the open windows and the sounds of morning traffic buzzed from the streets below.
“Hey,” Gihun whispered, gently tapping Inho’s cheek with his fingertips. “I have to go to work. They just called me in.”
Somehow, throughout the night, the two men had shifted so that Inho’s head rested atop Gihun’s chest, his arms looped around his middle as if he were hugging his own pillow—which he often did.
Inho groaned, nuzzling his face into the crook of Gihun’s neck, pulling him tighter against his body.
“Not yet, just a few more minutes…” Inho sighed drowsily.
Gihun was still stunned that he’d stayed the night at Inho’s and that now he was prying an almost forty-year-old man from his chest.
“I mean it, Inho,” he murmured. “I’m already late.”
Gihun cupped the back of Inho’s head, his thumb rubbing slow, soothing circles at the nape of his neck. He gazed down at Inho’s softened, sleepy expression.
When Inho’s mind caught up to what had happened the night before, his eyes focusing on the younger man beneath him, he shot up from the bed so fast he nearly fell off the edge. Looking down at himself, he realized he was completely naked and hastily covered himself with both hands, his knees tucked beneath him.
“What—” Inho huffed. “You’re still here?”
Gihun raised an eyebrow as he stretched out lazily against the plush mattress, eyeing Inho up and down. It was so adorable how he bothered to cover himself even now.
“Of course I’m still here. Why wouldn’t I be? You asked me to stay.” A pause. “I’ve already seen everything. You don’t need to cover yourself.”
Gihun slipped out of the bed, padding barefoot to where he had left his clothes from the night before. He bent to pick up his discarded jeans and sweater. He caught a glimpse of the other man, still kneeling on the bed, hands at his sides.
“You know,” Gihun said as he began slipping back on his jeans. “You sleep like a brick. My phone rang twice, you didn’t even wake up.”
Inho swallowed thickly, grabbing the folded back bedsheet to cover his lap. “Sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize. I was just surprised you were that worn out from a blowjob. I mean, all you had to do was just lie there.” He finished pulling on his sweater, adjusting the waistband of his pants once more before turning to face the mirror at the end of the bed, shaking out his mussed hair.
“Alright, I’m going.” Gihun placed a gentle hand on Inho’s tense shoulder. He leaned down and kissed his cheek, as though they were lovers. “It was nice to meet you, Inho.”
“You’re leaving?” Inho’s wide, glassy eyes snapped to Gihun’s, cheeks burning.
“Well, I mean—yeah. I have work and we already…” Gihun chuckled nervously.
“Oh,” Inho plopped down against the headboard, blankets pulled up to his chest.
Gihun got up from the bed and hesitated uncomfortably at the foot of it, shifting his weight from side to side.
“Before I go, could I use your bathroom?” he asked suddenly.
“Oh, yeah. It's just through that door.” Inho nodded towards a closed door just a few feet away.
“Alright,” Gihun replied, his brows knitted together slightly with suspicion. Nevertheless, he made his way towards the bathroom door, feeling Inho’s eyes tracking his every move.
Gihun gently pushed the door open, his eyes raking over the entire room.
The bathroom was almost absurdly clean. The marble counters gleamed beneath the warm lighting, every bottle and product lined up with perfect spacing. The towels folded so neatly they looked completely untouched. Even the mirror was spotless.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered before closing the door behind him. As it clicked shut behind him, Gihun moved towards the large sink. He paused there for a moment, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the edge of the marble, which he assumed was worth more than his entire life savings.
Gihun’s eyes clenched shut, his breathing coming in short, rapid bursts. He braced himself against the cool counter, head hung low as he tried to compose himself.
Breathe in, breathe out. He told himself.
Why was he panicking? He never panicked like this before. Even when his dates got aggressive or even violent, he just grabbed his things and left. It rarely got to him.
So why was leaving Inho so difficult? It hadn’t felt like a typical hookup.
Maybe that was the problem.
He turned on the tap and icy water flowed out. He let the water run over his wrists in the stream, then cupped it in his hands.
gasping, he splashed his face with cold water, finally able to catch his breath.
Gihun looked at his reflection, his gaze steady as he observed himself. His hair was dishevelled and he had heavy bags under his eyes. The collar of his sweatshirt was stretched and uneven, hanging crookedly from being pulled on.
“What am I doing?” he mumbled quietly to himself.
He should’ve just gone home afterward.
He shouldn’t have stayed.
Sleeping next to someone—someone who was visibly so lonely, someone who had held onto him all night as if he genuinely wanted him there. None of this was going according to plan.
Gihun shook his head, then rolled his shoulders. He reached for a neatly folded hand towel on the shelf beside the sink, pausing momentarily before gently using the corner to dry his face.
It smelled a bit like him.
At that thought, he used the rest of the towel to wipe down the counter instead.
“Rich people are scary," he muttered then sighed as he glanced around the bathroom one last time, carefully folding the used towel back on the countertop.
This place was nothing like the cheap motels he stayed in or his cramped apartment, where he rarely woke up anymore.
Gihun forced a lighter expression onto his face. A small smile settled into place easily enough.
Performance had always come naturally to him.
When the bathroom door opened, Inho immediately looked at it, then quickly raised his eyes to Gihun's. Hope surged within him, like a puppy excitedly waiting for its owner’s return after doubting they’d come back.
Inho had stayed propped against the headboard, with the blanket only covering his lap. His cheeks were still flushed and his eyes remained trained solely on Gihun upon his reentering to the room.
Gihun’s heart sank.
“So,” Gihun said lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Your bathroom is bigger than my entire apartment.”
Inho blinked.
“...Sorry?”
Gihun chuckled softly, and wrapped his arms close around his chest. It was something he did often—he had read online that it was self-soothing, that it imitated a mother's warm embrace. It was dumb.
“Why are you apologizing for being rich?”
“I wasn’t—” Inho stopped himself, his uneven lips pressing together awkwardly. “I don’t know.”
He took a few steps towards the bedside table, where his phone sat face down. He picked it up and turned it over in his hand before grimacing and sucking his teeth.
“Shit. I really have to go.”
Inho looked down at the cold sheet in his lap, swallowing hard. His eyes suddenly widened and became glassy, a subtle change that Gihun noticed immediately. A heavy silence filled the space between them.
Almost inaudible, Inho managed to rasp out a small, “...Will I see you again?”
Gihun hesitated before pocketing his phone, his eyes frozen on the other man's face. His lips parted, then closed.
“Yeah,” Gihun stammered softly before crawling back onto the bed and scooting closer to him. He reached up, brushing a strand of messy hair back from Inho’s forehead, his fingers lingering a second too long. Gihun gently squeezed the back of Inho’s neck again. “You will.”
Deep down, Gihun knew he wouldn’t follow through. He wished the lie would comfort his conscience, knowing he was leaving this lonely middle-aged man alone in his bed to return to his boring, wealthy life.
“Besides,” he added, slipping back into something lighter to keep the room from getting too heavy, “you still owe me dinner. We never even touched that pasta.”
A horrified expression instantly crossed Inho’s face.
“The pasta—” he said under his breath. “I completely forgot about the pasta.”
“There he is,” Gihun chuckled. “The stressed-out old man is back.”
Inho pulled the sheet up and tight against his chest. His gaze followed as Gihun rose from the bed, his socks padding across the bedroom's polished wood as he hurried out the door.
Inho stared wistfully at the open bedroom door, hearing the click of the front door shutting.
He was gone.
Running a sweaty hand over his face, he pulled back the thin sheet as he walked over to the foot of the bed, where his discarded boxers sat wrinkled on the floor. In one swift motion, he slipped into them, nerves buzzing from the night before as the soft cotton brushed against him.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of himself in the wall mirror. His hair had never looked so scruffy, and a few faint red marks had begun to bloom on the side of his neck. His fingers grazed one of the marks.
In that moment, he understood he had never felt more human. He didn’t appear dignified or perfect; he looked simply ordinary. Beneath it all, he despised this.
A car honked from the streets below, bringing him back to the harsh reality.
“Okay, okay,” Inho mumbled to himself.
He had responsibilities. He couldn’t just lounge in bed and think about Gihun and how natural it had felt.
He grabbed his discarded slacks and pulled them back up to his waist. Inho winced as the sound of the zipper filled the empty bedroom; it only brought his mind back to Gihun.
Being in the bedroom was no help; being beside the very spot where Gihun had just stood made his stomach flip violently.
Part of him knew that Gihun wouldn’t come back; that this was a one-night situation. He knew that Gihun did this often, and he was no different than the dozens of other men Gihun had met with and touched.
He quickly left his bedroom, stumbling before steadying himself on the doorframe. He moved to the living room and stopped at his vinyl collection. Carefully, he lowered the needle onto the record player.
Inho slowly shuffled to the couch. He considered collecting the empty whiskey glasses from the coffee table, but chose to sit instead. Spotting his phone next to him on the couch, he thought about calling someone—anyone.
Gihun, maybe. But he was headed to work, and it was far too soon. He had only left a few minutes ago.
His brother? No, that seemed odd after what had transpired and given the circumstances of this problem.
Still, his mind landed on Gihun.
He imagined Gihun stepping out of his apartment complex. Gihun's slender figure merging into the busy crowd of pedestrians. His jeans, slightly too long for his height, dragging past his ankles and scraping against the damp pavement.
Inho shook his head vigorously at the idea. It would be so humiliating to call him already, making him seem desperate for Gihun's attention.
The phone teased him. He shifted slightly down the couch, feeling his thighs brush against the leather as he glimpsed at it from the corner of his eye.
He picked up the phone, holding it in the palm of his hand like he wasn’t sure if it would explode beneath his touch.
There were no notifications, as usual.
He went directly to that cursed app—the dating one, obviously. To his surprise, quite a few people had swiped right on him. Many men his age, some Gihun's age, were seeking one-night stands.
He scrolled through some of the previews, since the app gave you a free preview before it made you upgrade to see who was “your best match! ;)”
LBHSUPERFAN001
:Insert-black-screen-photo:
NOT SAYING MY NAME.
Attributes: (Not listed).
Enjoys: Lee Byung Hun.
Dislikes: (Not listed).
BIO: I just want to meet someone who looks like the actor Lee Byung Hun. Only swipe right on me if you look like OR are him.
The first preview was just a super fan of an actor Inho had heard about offhandedly. Some of his younger co-workers said he bore a striking resemblance to him. He didn’t really see it, but he had definitely been mistaken for him before, so it wasn’t that surprising that this account had swiped right on him.
thanos_please_respond_its_namgyu
:Insert-random-photo-of-Namgyu:
Namgyu
5’9, 27 years old, working as a part-time promoter at Club Pentagon for over four years.
Enjoys: my ex thanos.
Dislikes: thano’s new man. ugly ass.
BIO: thanos please for the love of god unblock me already :( i KNOW you still lurk on my profile
i said im sorry like twelve times
you left your hoodie at my place too btw
but whatever im still down to meet people i guess. someone save me from redownloading this app every night lol
The second preview was just as disappointing. Just some desperate young person wanting their loser boyfriend back.
Sighing, Inho rubbed his temple, letting his head hit the back of the couch.
None of them were him.
None of them were Gihun.
His thumb hovered over his profile for so long that the screen began to dim. Inho stared at his own reflection in the blackened phone screen for a brief second before it lit up again beneath his thumb. Swallowing thickly, he slammed his phone back down on the couch cushion.
What the hell was he doing?
Texting your hookup the morning after, who was fifteen years younger than you, was rock bottom behaviour. It sounded pathetic when he actually thought about it.
Still, before he could stop himself, he reached for his phone again, turning it over in his hand twice. Exhaling through his nose, he clicked on Gihun’s profile, hovering over the message button—before quickly tapping out of his profile.
“Stop, stop, stop,” Inho muttered to himself, closing his eyes briefly and sinking deeper into the cushions. “Stop.”
He gritted his teeth, his phone screen pressed face down against his thigh, his other hand clenched at his side.
The vinyl stopped spinning, and silence filled the apartment again.
Before the feeling of silence could settle around him, the silence became deafening. He felt the need to move, to do something—anything.
Abruptly, he stood up, letting his phone fall to the floor with a harsh clatter. He winced at the sound of glass hitting the hardwood floor. But maybe the phone was better broken for now. It would stop him from doing something stupid.
His feet dragged him into the kitchen. He stopped in front of the stove, looking down at the now dried-out pasta still in the pan.
“Idiot,” Inho muttered under his breath. He picked up the pan and let the pasta splat into the trash can. Staring at it for a moment too long, he set the pan in the sink, not bothering to wash it right away.
He began to walk away, one foot in front of the other, until he quickly backtracked—cleaning the pan vigorously with a tad too much dish soap and putting it back where it belonged. He may have reached rock bottom, but he wasn’t that low.
“Okay, bathroom,” he said to himself. A shower would refresh him. It would make him feel better and cleaner after the night before. Maybe the soap would rinse off the last thoughts of Gihun lingering in his mind—his touch being scrubbed off his body, and down the drain.
Because he was coming back, right?
He said he would.
When Inho exited the kitchen, he had to pass the couch, the record player, and the phone discarded on the rug to reach the bathroom.
Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look down at the phone, Inho, he kept saying to himself.
As he hurried past, he saw the phone light up, the dark carpet beneath it reflecting the notification.
Inho practically launched himself towards it, nearly tripping over his foot as he bent down to grab the phone. His heart pounded against his ribs, his eyes wide with hope, fear, and excitement.
Turning the phone over in his hand, chest heaving—
“Get 50% off Squid-Meet plus! See all your matches, and who you align with the most! :winking-face-emoji:”
Inho stared at the screen.
He could feel his blood boiling. Why the hell would he want to buy the plus version of this app? He only wanted Gihun to message him.
“Goddamnit!” he exclaimed, pacing his apartment in frustration, almost stomping in circles as he dragged his hand through his hair. He then opened Gihun’s profile again. His thumb swiped over the photos, lingering on Gihun’s defined collarbones and slender legs, and on Gihun’s wide smile that puffed out his cheeks.
Every rational part of him was screaming to stop: to put the phone down and go actually do something with his morning.
But Inho wasn’t being rational.
He typed a message, deleted it. Typed it again, then stopped his pacing, doing a once-over of the message.
H_INHO132 (8:38 AM)
Hi.
Thanks for last night. It was great. Do you want to go out again tonight? I can pay. You pick the restaurant and time and I'll be there. Do you need a ride home from work? I can pick you up. Just let me know.
As he re-read the message, he felt his face heat up again and let out a loud groan. "No, no, no,” he muttered to himself, deleting the message once more. This time, he typed carefully and slowly with both thumbs.
H_INHO132 (8:40 AM)
Hi.
Thanks for reminding me about the pasta; it would have sat there all day and stank up the apartment. I hope you got to work okay. Text me when you can. :thumbs-up-emoji:
He re-read it. Once, twice, then a third time.
“Okay. Alright. This is good.” He hovered above send, biting his index finger. He bit off a piece of dead skin, spitting it onto his apartment's floor.
Inho hit send.
The message went through.
On the other side of the city, Gihun's phone lit up.
Inho’s name lit up across the screen.