PV Ch.6 Part 1

#6. It Wasn’t Always Like This (1)

“Jeong Hotae, where are you going?”

“I have plans.”

“Can’t I come with you?”

“No, you can’t.” 

Bomin pouted, his lower lip jutting out like a petulant child’s. He’d been following Jeong Hotae around like a lost puppy ever since the man had gotten out of bed, his own sleepiness forgotten in the face of Jeong Hotae’s unusual busyness. 

“Just stay home and relax. I’ll be back soon.” 

“But then you could just take me with you! I promise I’ll be good.”

Bomin zipped his lips with an exaggerated gesture, his gloomy expression momentarily replaced by a playful smile. The sight of that smile, that effortless charm, made something in Jeong Hotae’s chest tighten. He stared at Bomin, captivated by the curve of his lips, and for a moment, he almost gave in.

“Ow, stop it…”

He reached out, his fingers pinching Bomin’s plump lower lip as if it were a piece of slime. 

“I’ll buy you something delicious on my way back. Just stay here and rest, okay?”

His grip was firm, insistent, and Bomin, defeated, nodded reluctantly. He rubbed his abused lip, his eyes narrowed playfully as he watched Jeong Hotae gather his keys and head towards the door. 

The door closed with a final, disheartening click. Bomin stared at it for a long moment, his playful smile morphing into something more cunning. 

“You’ll regret leaving me behind,” he muttered under his breath. 

He couldn’t contain his excitement as he turned and practically skipped towards Jeong Hotae’s room. Unlike Bomin’s own room, which was bright and airy, Jeong Hotae was decorated in dark wood and heavy fabrics, giving it a masculine, almost austere feel.

The air was thick with Jeong Hotae’s scent, and Bomin closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, letting the familiar aroma fill his lungs.

“You smell so good…” he breathed, practically purring with contentment. 

He practically threw himself onto Jeong Hotae’s bed, his movements so energetic that the large mattress bounced under his weight. The scent was stronger here, clinging to the sheets, and Bomin nuzzled his face against the pillow, inhaling deeply. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he tugged down his pajama pants, revealing his bare ass. 

He reached for one of the neatly arranged pillows and tucked it under his hips, his nose buried in the sheets as he shifted his body, seeking friction. With his eyes closed, he conjured up an image of Jeong Hotae’s handsome face, the memory of their shared intimacy vivid in his mind. 

His hand moved faster now, a slick of arousal coating his skin. 

“Hng, ah… Hotae…” 

Just thinking about Jeong Hotae was enough to send him spiraling towards the edge, his body trembling as he reached his peak. He came with a groan, the release leaving him weak and panting. 

The scent of his own arousal mingled with Jeong Hotae’s on the sheets, marking the territory as his own. Bomin smiled, a sense of satisfaction washing over him. 

“I can’t wait for him to come home.” 

Being alone in Jeong Hotae’s apartment wasn’t so bad. It was like savoring a sweet treat, indulging in the anticipation of something even better to come. Jeong Hotae had shown him that waiting could be pleasurable, that anticipation itself could be a form of happiness.

“Maybe I should cook him dinner?” he thought out loud, the idea both terrifying and exciting. 

His cooking skills were disastrous, bordering on catastrophic. But for some reason, he wanted to do something for Jeong Hotae, to show his appreciation for the man’s kindness. Since meeting Jeong Hotae, Bomin had been on the receiving end, indulging in the man’s generosity without giving much in return. 

He grabbed his c*m-stained pants and headed towards the bathroom, not his own, but Hotae’s. 

“Look at all these new things…” he murmured, his eyes widening as he took in the contents of the bathroom counter. 

He felt a pang of guilt, knowing he was essentially trespassing. He’d been so annoyed at Jeong Hotae for leaving him behind that he hadn’t even bothered to knock. He never entered Jeong Hotae’s room without permission, let alone his bathroom. 

He picked up a sleek bottle he hadn’t seen before and spritzed it into the air. 

“Cologne?” 

A clean, soapy scent filled the air, pleasant but… unfamiliar. Bomin’s face darkened as he realized it wasn’t Jeong Hotae’s usual scent. He’d smelled it before, on one of Jeong Hotae’s partners, a fleeting encounter he’d tried to forget. 

“…He even let them leave their things here…” 

Bomin’s grip tightened on the bottle, a surge of anger coursing through him. He wanted to smash it, to erase every trace of this other person from Jeong Hotae’s life. But the bottle remained intact, a delicate vessel filled with a scent that wasn’t his. 

He knew Jeong Hotae would be upset if he damaged his partner’s belongings, even though he’d probably overlook Bomin’s earlier transgression, the way he’d defiled his bed. 

“This is so annoying,” he muttered, setting the bottle back down with a sigh. 

He showered in his own bathroom, washing away the remnants of his earlier activities. He wrapped himself in a bathrobe and sat on the couch, staring at the clock ticking relentlessly on the wall, his earlier cheerfulness replaced by a heavy gloom. He couldn’t bring himself to eat, his appetite replaced by a stubborn resolve to confront Jeong Hotae. 

He spent the rest of the afternoon in the dimly lit living room, ignoring his growling stomach, his phone lying untouched on the coffee table. He didn’t call or text, didn’t demand an explanation. He just waited, his body stiff and unmoving, like a doll patiently awaiting its owner’s return. 

His ears were attuned to every sound, every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of leaves outside. Finally, he heard it – the telltale click of the lock turning, the sound of the door opening. He practically leaped off the couch, his heart pounding as he rushed towards the hallway. 

“Jeong Hotae, why are you so la…!”

“Ah, hello. We’ve met before. You remember me, right?”

Jeong Hotae, the man Bomin had been waiting for all day, finally stumbled in, accompanied by a stranger. The stench of alcohol radiating off him was so strong that Bomin could smell it even from ten paces away. 

Bomin’s eyes stung as he watched Jeong Hotae, practically draped over the stranger, struggling to keep his drunken body upright. 

Bomin had thought the man was a stranger, but now that he thought about it, he was the same shadow that had seemed to follow Jeong Hotae every time he’d pictured him today. 

A faint scent of soap wafted amidst the overpowering stench of alcohol. Bomin clenched his jaw and walked towards them. 

“Why did you drink so much? You said you’d be home early, you didn’t even keep your promise.”

“Seems like Hotae had a rough day. He didn’t want to come home, so we met up at a bar…” the man explained, his tone apologetic. 

“Let’s go to the bedroom. I’ll help you,” Bomin said, his voice tight. 

He completely ignored the other man, acting as if he were invisible. He looped Jeong Hotae’s free arm over his shoulders, his body straining under the weight. He stumbled, but he refused to let go, his legs trembling with the effort. 

The man, finally realizing that he was being deliberately excluded, raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. 

“You’re gonna need some help with that, you know.” 

Bomin gritted his teeth, ignoring the man’s observation. He wasn’t wrong. Bomin was practically carrying Jeong Hotae at this point, his own body a fragile support system for the man’s bulk. 

If the man let go, if he removed his arm from Jeong Hotae’s waist, Bomin would crumble, both of them ending up in a heap on the floor. 

“…Just… to the bedroom,” Bomin finally relented, his voice barely a whisper.

His cheeks burned with shame as he met the man’s gaze, his own eyes pleading for a moment of compassion. The man, without a word, shifted his grip on Jeong Hotae, his gaze lingering on Bomin’s flushed face. Together, they managed to get Jeong Hotae to the bedroom and onto the bed. 

“Whew…”

Bomin wiped the sweat from his forehead, his body trembling with exertion. He removed Jeong Hotae’s socks and loosened his belt, his touch gentle despite the anger simmering beneath the surface. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” the man asked sharply, grabbing Bomin’s wrist as he reached for the button of Jeong Hotae’s pants. 

“You don’t know about Hotae’s drinking habits, do you? He… he gets handsy when he’s drunk.”

Bomin hated the way the man spoke, with a familiarity that suggested intimacy, a knowledge of Jeong Hotae that Bomin himself didn’t possess. And besides, ‘handsy’ was exactly what Bomin wanted. 

“Then it seems like we’re in luck,” he retorted, his voice laced with sarcasm. “You can leave now.” 

“My name is Kim Minhyun. And it’s not ‘you,’ it’s Minhyun,” the man corrected, his smile unwavering despite Bomin’s rudeness. 

“I don’t need to know your name. I doubt we’ll be seeing each other again,” Bomin snapped, his gaze hardening. 

Kim Minhyun, instead of backing down, simply tightened his grip on Bomin’s wrist, his eyes gleaming with amusement. 

“You do realize that if you sleep with Hotae, you’ll lose your friend, right? I doubt you want to be just another partner, like me.” 

Bomin’s breath hitched in his throat. He’d known this, of course, had carefully maintained a certain distance from Jeong Hotae, clinging to their friendship, their easy companionship. 

Jeong Hotae had many partners, but he never had a lover. He preferred to keep those two worlds separate, unlike those who blurred the lines between friends and lovers. And Bomin, for Jeong Hotae, was a friend, a confidant, someone he could trust. 

Sleeping with Jeong Hotae would change everything. He would become just another conquest, another face in the crowd, easily replaced. 

“So, it’s you who should leave, Bomin, not me,” Kim Minhyun said, his voice soft but firm. 

Bomin’s lower lip trembled, a single bead of blood welling up at the corner. He looked at Jeong Hotae, his face peaceful in sleep, oblivious to the turmoil raging around him. 

“I don’t care,” Bomin finally said, his voice barely a whisper. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Now, please… leave.” 

He was tired of living in this limbo, this space between friendship and something more. He had to make a decision, had to take a risk. He couldn’t spend the rest of his life dancing around Jeong Hotae, his desires a secret he couldn’t share. 

“Nnngh… what are you…!”

Kim Minhyun, who had been holding Bomin’s wrist this entire time, finally let go, leaving a red mark on his skin. He winked at Bomin as he backed away, his smile tinged with something that resembled sympathy. 

“I’m a switch, you know. Especially for someone like you. So if Hotae ever decides to discard you, feel free to give me a call,” he said, his words both a warning and an invitation. 

With that, he turned and left, the door closing softly behind him. Bomin rubbed his wrist, his eyes fixed on Jeong Hotae’s sleeping form. 

“This is all your fault, you know,” he muttered, his voice a mixture of anger and frustration. “If you had just come home earlier, if you hadn’t brought him here…” 

He climbed onto the bed, straddling Jeong Hotae’s hips, his robe falling open, revealing his bare chest. His pale skin seemed to shimmer in the dim light, his body trembling with a mixture of anticipation and fear. 

“…You can have me. Just… don’t call out his name,” he whispered, his voice breaking. 

His fingers trembled as he began to unbutton Jeong Hotae’s shirt, one button at a time. He’d seen glimpses of Jeong Hotae’s body before, fleeting moments of shared intimacy, but this… this was the first time he was truly seeing him, exposed and vulnerable. 

Jeong Hotae’s physique, unlike his gentle demeanor, was surprisingly sculpted, his muscles defined beneath his pale skin. Bomin swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. He leaned down, his resolve finally crumbling as tears streamed down his face. 

***