DAH Ch 21
by soapaThe promised movie-watching time arrived sooner than expected. Perhaps because he’d been quietly looking forward to it, Yoonhae had prepared the two films he’d mentioned not long after.
Following Yoonhae down to the basement cinema room, Jungjoon found it enveloped entirely in black. The soundproof space, lined with acoustic panels, featured a large screen and bidirectional speakers. The ambiance was enhanced by indirect lighting, with every detail and furnishing surpassing the standard of a home theater.
Barely settled into the leather recliners side by side to watch the movie, Yoonhae spoke up.
“Is that guy the actor you said you liked?”
“…Yeah.”
“He’s not as handsome as I thought.”
“…Really?”
“I expected a chiseled pretty boy.”
A faint smirk twisted his lips, tinged with mockery. Yoonhae scanned the actor on screen with a slouched posture and indifferent eyes.
“So, this guy’s an idiot, huh?”
“…His intelligence is just a bit lower than average. Like borderline intellectual disability…”
Jungjoon, quietly trying to enjoy the movie, let out a small sigh. Yoonhae’s sporadic, disruptive questions kept breaking his focus.
Even after that, Yoonhae would chime in with off-target remarks just as Jungjoon started to immerse himself. He consistently fixated on the wrong details, missing the story’s core, and added crude opinions that shattered the narrative’s flow.
“Guys like him are better than those vaguely smart ones.”
“…”
“The type who do what they’re told. Drink toilet water if you say so, stab someone if ordered…”
He muttered chilling nonsense, chuckling to himself. Jungjoon ignored his ramblings, forcing his attention back to the screen. The only times Yoonhae seemed somewhat engaged were scenes with the male lead’s unrequited love interest.
“That woman’s really weird.”
“…”
“She’s toying with an idiot.”
In those moments, his eyes gleamed as he stared at the screen.
The male lead’s tender, unreciprocated love unfolded onscreen. Jungjoon found the movie oddly unfamiliar, as if questioning if this was its true essence. Scenes of childhood friends reuniting or the dim-witted man clinging to the one woman who’d ever been kind to him no longer stirred the same emotion as before.
“So this chick hates him ‘cause he’s a moron?”
“…”
When the actress delivered the line, “You don’t even know what love is,” in the next scene, Yoonhae let out a hollow laugh. Then he muttered vulgar insults at her under his breath.
The cringe-worthy profanity repeated several times, the garbled sounds brushing Jungjoon’s ears.
“…”
Jungjoon pretended not to hear, fixing his gaze on the screen. Honestly, he couldn’t focus anymore and wanted to leave.
He wished to forget it, but the curses lingered in his ears. Whether their eeriness stemmed from Yoonhae being a thug, he couldn’t tell. What was clear was that they differed from the casual swearing of others.
The words didn’t register as mere curses. They transcended simple speech, leaving a lingering aftertaste beyond tongue-wagging. It felt as if every filthy thing imaginable was tangled within them, a few uttered syllables sparking visceral disgust across all senses.
Inevitably, Jungjoon recalled the past. The moment he’d been pinned and raped in Yoonhae’s office hallway… the merciless violence as Yoonhae grabbed his hair and slammed him against the wall.
“Enjoying it?”
Yoonhae’s question turned Jungjoon’s head.
“…No. Why, you don’t like it?”
Jungjoon cast a neutral glance.
“No.”
Yoonhae stared at Jungjoon with unreadable eyes. After a long silence, he replied abruptly.
“It’s fun.”
Yet, contrary to his words, his gaze no longer lingered on the screen. With a strange smirk, he propped his head on his hand. Posing as if engrossed, he brazenly stared at Jungjoon instead.
Under that persistent gaze, Jungjoon felt reduced to an object of scrutiny, gripped by unease. Yoonhae’s whims were one thing, but his overwhelming presence in this confined space was suffocating. A lowlife thug, a warped mind—it all hit him with stark reality. That he’d briefly seen Yoonhae as clumsy and innocent now seemed unbelievable.
This was his true self. Not the man awkwardly stealing glances or shyly freezing up, but a hardened thug exuding a jaded aura.
No matter how inexperienced or clumsy his dancing, his thug nature couldn’t be erased. Jungjoon wouldn’t deny the unexpected traits that made him forget momentarily, but he had to guard against losing sight of who Yoonhae was. He couldn’t let the reality of Lee Yoonhae—the things he’d done—fade from his mind even for a second.
“…”
Before he knew it, Yoonhae had taken Jungjoon’s hand, fondling it carelessly. His touch carried a lewd confidence, like men groping their girlfriends in public without shame.
“Hm? Why’ve you got goosebumps?”
He rubbed Jungjoon’s forearm against the grain, brushing the faint hair.
“Cold?”
“…No.”
Despite Jungjoon’s denial, Yoonhae kept stroking his hand and shoulder.
Jungjoon had long sensed the intent, but as the unnecessary fondling crept toward his inner thigh, he grew uncomfortable.
Digging deeper, Yoonhae bent down, burying his face in Jungjoon’s crotch. Inhaling deeply as if savoring the scent, he yanked Jungjoon’s penis out with impatient hands. Before fully lowering his underwear, he latched on, sucking like a starving beast.
His claim of liking these movies echoed in Jungjoon’s mind. Absurd. This was his plan all along—to mimic a theater vibe just to do what he couldn’t in a real one.
Hunching his large frame, Yoonhae sucked awkwardly, sliding to the floor. Kneeling voluntarily, he clung to Jungjoon’s groin, rubbing his face against it. Making loud noises like eating, he alternated between Jungjoon’s penis and scrotum.
Jungjoon could no longer watch the movie. Focus was impossible.
“Ngh…”
Jungjoon bit his finger. It hadn’t been long since those huge, thick hands—capable of ripping off heads—slipped under his shirt. Dry fingers pinched and rubbed his sensitive nipples, worn from frequent stimulation. Simultaneous arousal sent shivers down his spine.
He clenched his neck, stifling sounds. Not even in a real theater, yet he did. Biting his lower lip, he desperately swallowed moans.
Yoonhae polished Jungjoon’s penis to a sheen before probing deeper. His tongue dug into the anus, lips sucking as he pulled. Soaking it with spit until sticky, he spread Jungjoon’s cheeks wide. Sliding two fingers into the slick interior, he scraped the walls back and forth. Checking the looseness, he finally pulled out his own penis.
“Ah…”
As it entered, swollen membranes clashed. Wet flesh slapped with squelching sounds. As their heavy bodies joined, Jungjoon twisted his head and covered his mouth. In the dark room, flickering light danced across Yoonhae’s taut buttocks and thighs, casting shadows.
Sprawled on the recliner, legs spread wide, Jungjoon endured. His tight hole stretched to its limit to accommodate the penis. Yoonhae’s blood-engorged shaft, like a rutting stallion’s, created a grotesque scene as it thrust relentlessly.
Meanwhile, Jungjoon’s once-favorite movie played smoothly onscreen, actors’ lines fading into background noise. Sadly, he knew he’d never watch it again after today.
“Haa…”
A heated breath escaped. Low, throbbing groans and burning eyes poured out.
“I love you…”
Saying it, Yoonhae removed Jungjoon’s hand and kissed him. Thick palms cradled his head, stroking sweat-dampened scalp.
I love you…
Repeating it, the other hand trembling slightly cupped his cheek. Jungjoon found that faint quiver chilling. The fragility or mundane affection in his touch… forced any reply he might’ve given back down his throat.
“I love you, Hyung…”
Hot breath flooded his ear, stinging it with heat. I love you, I love you… The relentless repetition overwhelmed him, tempting him to blurt something insincere. To give what Yoonhae wanted and shut him up.
But panting, Jungjoon steadied himself against being swept away. Embracing the trembling body, he kissed Yoonhae fervently to calm him somehow.
After the hollow movie session, Jungjoon’s lower body felt drained. Unable to move properly, Yoonhae massaged his legs and feet like a rehab therapist.
Yet it quickly devolved into embarrassingly lewd acts. Prone on the recliner, hips raised, Jungjoon was thoroughly toyed with inside.
Handing his penis to Yoonhae like a joystick, he was treated like a plaything, climaxing messily before it finally ended.
Supported upstairs, he unexpectedly faced one of Yoonhae’s men.
“Boss. Sorry. Urgent report…”
Caught off-guard in his disheveled state, Jungjoon flinched. Yoonhae’s underlings rarely barged in like this.
Blushing, Jungjoon pulled away from Yoonhae. Leaning against the wall, he turned to see the man already approaching Yoonhae.
Whispering close with a low voice, the report dragged on. Yoonhae remained expressionless, as did the grim-faced subordinate.
“…”
Now that he thought about it, the man looked familiar. Studying him, Jungjoon recalled seeing him a few times.
Likely the youngest of Yoonhae’s guards at the villa, perhaps mid-20s. Most seemed Yoonhae’s age or older, making him stand out.
Silently receiving the report, Yoonhae soon issued brief orders. Nodding, the man covered his mouth, whispering more into Yoonhae’s ear. Acting as if it were top-secret, he left Jungjoon feeling absurdly baffled.
What grand secrets did thug games hold? And who here would leak them? It was laughable, but Jungjoon just watched sidelong.
After final instructions, the man stepped back. Bowing, he glanced at Jungjoon briefly before leaving as abruptly as he’d come.
Only after the door closed did Jungjoon turn. Walking down the hall, he sensed Yoonhae approaching. Feeling arms wrap around his waist, he instinctively shook them off irritably.
“…”
An awkward silence fell, and Jungjoon acknowledged his sharpened nerves. An inexplicable unease gnawed at him. He couldn’t pinpoint why, but one thing stood out: the subordinate’s hostile glance before turning away had set him on edge.
It wasn’t imagination—those eyes were wary. As if saying, “I know what you’re up to.”
“What’s wrong?”
Yoonhae asked in a low voice, gripping Jungjoon’s elbow firmly.
“…What?”
Jungjoon replied, not hiding his annoyance.
“Look at me and talk.”
Yoonhae clung to his arm. Meeting his gaze as demanded, Jungjoon tried to pull free, but the grip tightened. Pushing back, Yoonhae not only resisted but pulled him closer.
Unwilling to be overpowered and unable to suppress his frayed mood, Jungjoon raised a knee, striking Yoonhae’s thigh. With a grimace and a low groan, Yoonhae’s hold loosened.
Freeing himself, Jungjoon ignored him and sat on the sofa. Yoonhae stayed put, hunched slightly as if in pain.
“…”
The longer he stood rigid, the more Jungjoon’s anger cooled, replaced by unease. Observing Yoonhae’s odd demeanor, guilt crept in. His eyes lingered on the left thigh Yoonhae clutched.
Realizing he’d hit the spot Yoonhae had once injured—struck by a car chasing him—Jungjoon stood abruptly.
“…You okay?”
Approaching, he got no reply. Yoonhae’s posture remained unchanged.
“Is that where you got hurt before?”
Kneeling on one knee, Jungjoon asked. Even as he cautiously touched the thigh Yoonhae held, Yoonhae’s face stayed eerily blank. Gauging his cold expression, Jungjoon gently rubbed the leg.
Standing, he subtly pulled Yoonhae’s arm over his shoulder. Wrapping an arm around his waist, he signaled support. Carefully guiding him to the sofa, Yoonhae followed meekly.
Seated, Jungjoon examined his leg again. Cradling the knee, rubbing the thigh—seeing no bad reaction, he massaged lightly.
“You okay?”
Yoonhae nodded silently. But soon, he winced as if in pain.
“…Sorry. Did it hurt a lot?”
Speaking softly as to a child, Jungjoon watched his reaction. Easing his grip, he caressed the thick thigh with featherlight care.
“Should we go to the hospital? Want to go now?”
“…No need.”
A curt reply came, though his eyes hinted he wanted the rubbing to continue.
“Should I keep it this light? Does it not hurt like this?”
Rubbing with his thumb, Jungjoon asked. Yoonhae nodded.
“Keep going like this?”
“…”
Yoonhae’s satisfied gaze lowered as Jungjoon tended to him excessively. Using both hands, Jungjoon warmed the leg. Kneading the thigh, he slid down to the knee, stroking gently. More than a massage, it was pandering to lift his mood.
“More?”
“…”
Silence implied assent. Jungjoon kept massaging. Unnoticed, Yoonhae’s pants bulged as the attentive touch persisted.
Ignoring it to continue, the erection became undeniable. As Jungjoon tried to pull away, Yoonhae grabbed his hand, pressing it down.
“…It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
Jungjoon chided gently, mindful not to upset him.
“It hurts.”
“…”
“Really… hurt so bad I couldn’t move.”
His face wasn’t an adult’s but a sulky child’s.
“…Kiss it better.”
Jungjoon averted his eyes.
“…”
With a sane person, he’d have snapped at him to act his age.
He wanted to leave, ignore the whining. But cold reason suppressed the urge. Ignoring this could spark pointless suspicion. His earlier irritability and the strike—today, he’d let raw emotions slip too often.
Hesitating, Jungjoon gave a brief kiss as demanded and pulled back.
“…Feel better?”
Feigning reluctance, he tried to sink into the act.
“…One more time.”
With a forced smile, Jungjoon kissed again. Thankfully, after the second kiss, Yoonhae quieted, as if mollified. Jungjoon had feared a shameless demand for sex, but his quick satisfaction was a relief.
Yoonhae lay with his head on Jungjoon’s lap. Taking Jungjoon’s hand, he fondled it absently before broaching a topic.
“So…”
“…Yeah?”
“Why were you upset earlier, Hyung?”
Curious eyes turned to Jungjoon’s face.
“…”
Jungjoon didn’t know how to respond.
“Maybe…”
“Just feeling off.”
Cutting him off before more came, Jungjoon excused himself. Yoonhae toyed with his fingers, letting out a faint, “Ah…”
“I thought…”
“…”
Maybe you were jealous. He mumbled.
“What…”
Jungjoon frowned. The random word felt odd. Jealousy? Who’d be jealous of whom, and why?
The two whispering closely—it was clearly a work-related exchange between men. Imagining jealousy over such contact was baffling.
True, their closeness registered, and the subordinate’s lips near Yoonhae’s ear looked strange, but that was it. The man’s secretive demeanor, knowing Jungjoon watched, felt more like wariness than anything worth envying.
“…”
About to deny it, Jungjoon’s lips parted then closed. Meeting Yoonhae’s eyes, he realized there was no need. Exploiting his misconception could be more effective now.
“…It’s not like… there wasn’t some.”
Yoonhae’s face lit up with surprise at the forced admission.
“…Huh?”
“Jealousy, I mean… it’s not like there wasn’t any.”
Raising his torso from Jungjoon’s lap, Yoonhae stared.
“Why, is that not okay?”
“No, it’s not that…”
Seeing him swept up, Jungjoon layered on more.
“So, about that… couldn’t you tell your men to leave now?”
“…”
“Honestly, I’d rather it just be us here.”
Yoonhae’s expression blanked as Jungjoon finished.
“No need for them to guard this place anymore.”
I’m not running away.
His murmured addition made Yoonhae’s dark pupils waver.
“Wouldn’t it be better, just us?”
“…”
“It’d be more fun. No one watching, more relaxed…”
We could do anything.
Subtly stoking his imagination, Jungjoon stepped back.
“No.”
Yoonhae bit the bait, cutting in hastily.
“…I was thinking the same.”
Just the two of us would be nice…
Rubbing his face as if flustered, he added.
“Let’s do it your way, Hyung.”
Finally resolute, he looked at Jungjoon.
“I’ll tell the guys to leave tomorrow.”
“…”
“Just us… I’ll tell them all to get lost…”
With that comical permission, Jungjoon cupped Yoonhae’s nape like a thrilled child.
“…Really?”
Nodding, Yoonhae affirmed again. Jungjoon smiled quietly, pulling him close. “Thanks…” he lied.
Kissing his slightly flushed ear, Yoonhae’s muscles tensed visibly. His ear reddened like swollen skin. Feeling his gut cool at how easy it was, Jungjoon embraced him.
⟡˖ ࣪
The more desperate you are for something, the more likely it blinds you.
Jungjoon realized this when his wife had her accident. Seeing her unconscious after surgery, he couldn’t accept reality. The hospital’s thunderbolt directive to prepare for the end was something he couldn’t bear, no matter what.
That’s why it happened. He got entangled with people he’d never imagined crossing paths with. Fell for their absurd wordplay and handed over money.
“Of course. We can save your wife. If you put in the effort.”
That single line was enough. It changed Jungjoon’s world. He’d have squandered everything. If it could bring her back.
But the night he broke his savings for their rituals, she died. Without a chance to intervene, she was gone. Only after her death, after the frantic funeral, left alone with their child, did Jungjoon realize it was all a scam.
Had he lost his mind? Why fall for such a flimsy con? Wallowing in self-loathing, he understood.
Hearing what you desperately want paralyzes reason. Like a fervent prayer answered, a sole chance from God. It’s a pitiable overconfidence no one can save.
From that bitter lesson, Jungjoon came to understand those ensnared by cults, spending absurd sums on supplements or shoddy goods.
A single baited line—delivering the words they’d longed for—triggered complete deception. People couldn’t help but feel moved, as if rewarded for their cries, eagerly biting the bait and being dragged along with hope.
Like Jungjoon, frantic over his wife’s life.
And… like the “thing” before him now.
“…”
Waking that morning, Jungjoon sensed a shift. Looking around slowly, no human presence remained. The guards around the villa had vanished entirely.
Whether they’d only left the vicinity he’d confirm later, but Jungjoon was already certain. Yoonhae trusted him completely.
With one word, Jungjoon had altered his world. Yoonhae, who’d craved this more than anyone, had nibbled the bait—not just nibbled, but swallowed the final, massive lure whole.
“Feels so cozy with just us.”
Hugging Yoonhae, he flashed a shy, uncharacteristic smile.
“…Yeah.”
With a warm hand, Yoonhae hugged back. Suggesting they feed the carp, Jungjoon took his hand and led him. At the tank, they kissed, fooling around like affectionate lovers. In that giddy mood, after tending the fish, they moved to the kitchen, where Jungjoon cooked.
“Tell the housekeepers to stop coming too. Let’s cook together from now on. It’ll taste better.”
Speaking like a cozy couple, Yoonhae nodded dumbly. Seating him, Jungjoon made simple egg rice with fridge ingredients. Even with humble side dishes, Yoonhae ate more heartily than before.
After eating, they lounged on the sofa, embracing leisurely.
“What should we do today?”
Rubbing Yoonhae’s waist, Jungjoon asked expectantly.
“Anything… I’m fine with anything, as long as I’m with you, Hyung.”
Jungjoon mocked him inwardly while beaming outwardly.
“It’s nice out. Wanna go on a date? Or laze around here? What do you think?”
Resting his chin on Jungjoon’s head, Yoonhae said.
“…Whatever you like, Hyung.”
I’m okay with anything you want. His doting-boyfriend addition was laughable.
“Then… how about we go out first? Come back and laze around after.”
At Jungjoon’s suggestion, Yoonhae replied breezily, “Sounds good?”
“I’ll take charge of today’s date course.”
Pulling away, Jungjoon declared, earning a chuckle and nod from Yoonhae.
After getting ready, true to his word, Jungjoon took the driver’s seat.
“Where are we going?”
Jungjoon didn’t answer immediately.
“Wait and see.”
Stroking the back of Yoonhae’s head instead, he blushed. Moments later, when the destination popped up on the GPS, Yoonhae looked at Jungjoon curiously.
“A bit weird for two grown men?”
“…No.”
Leaning against the driver’s seat, Jungjoon met his gaze.
“Just… thought I’d turn it into a good memory.”
“…”
“The amusement park hasn’t exactly been a happy place for you. Because of me.”
For a while, Yoonhae was silent. His fixed gaze and head jerked away hastily.
“…Okay.”
His voice was slightly hoarse. Before turning to the window, Jungjoon caught his faintly reddened eyes.
“…”
Even after the car started, Yoonhae stared out the window. Jungjoon turned on the radio and drove wordlessly.
Just… thought I’d turn it into a good memory. The amusement park hasn’t exactly been a happy place for you. Because of me.
He mulled over the heartfelt-sounding lie. A sudden thought struck him—how cruel. Amusing himself for acting so calmly, driving so casually despite it.
Making it the best day hadn’t changed since then. Back then, it stemmed from guilt; now, it didn’t. Now, it was deliberate repetition, a deliberate trap.
Then, he’d wanted to give something good. Now, he wanted to deliver a shock.
“…”
Yoonhae was now looking at him. Stealing glances at Jungjoon’s profile as he drove.
Keeping his eyes forward, Jungjoon slid a hand down subtly. Recognizing the cue, Yoonhae clasped it. As Jungjoon kneaded gently and smiled, Yoonhae mirrored him.
A mundane moment, like an ordinary couple’s date.
That ordinariness persisted at the amusement park. Like typical couples, they wore goofy headbands, queued for rides, ate snacks, and snapped photos of each other.
On a spring day with sunlight gently streaming down, the amusement park buzzed with crowds everywhere. At a moment when Jungjoon nearly bumped into a passerby, Yoonhae wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him close. A faint bergamot scent wafted from Yoonhae’s chest.
“Smells nice, huh?”
Jungjoon teased playfully.
“I sprayed it for that reason.”
Yoonhae replied, turning his head slightly. Then he mumbled something to himself. When Jungjoon asked, “Hm?” he spoke more clearly.
“…My pheromone scent is way better than this, though.”
He blurted it out shamelessly, his face tinged with a shy flush.
“Better than this?”
Jungjoon deliberately burrowed into his chest, sniffing exaggeratedly.
“…If you… were…”
“Hm?”
“If you were an omega… you’d be soaked right here and now.”
His low whisper came with eyes that glistened faintly. Jungjoon turned away, giving his shoulder a light tap.
“Let’s go ride what we missed earlier.”
Those desire-laden eyes were hard to meet for long.
As they moved, groups of schoolgirls, schoolboys, couples, and families brushed past. Unconsciously, Jungjoon’s gaze was drawn mostly to young children. Despite his efforts, his eyes naturally lingered on kids Ian’s age.
It was a little while later when he unexpectedly spotted a boy crying alone under a tree.
Yoonhae noticed him a step ahead of Jungjoon and strode over quickly. Lowering himself to the child’s eye level, he spoke to the boy, whose face and sleeves were drenched with tears.
“Did you lose your mom?”
The child, head tilted back in sobs, paused and looked at Yoonhae with startled eyes. Nodding his small face, he soon realized his plight again and burst into even louder wails.
Unlike Jungjoon, who hesitated to approach recklessly, Yoonhae scooped the boy up and began soothing him. Don’t cry, uncle will find your mom, don’t cry… He coaxed gently, stroking the child’s head with his large hand.
Fortunately, the boy’s parents were found shortly after a broadcast announced his safety. Before parting, Yoonhae tenderly wiped the child’s wet eyes, leaving a final admonition not to get lost again before letting go of the small hand he’d briefly held.
Was this how it felt when he first met Ian as a lost child? Jungjoon could almost picture the kindness that must have captured the boy’s heart.
“…You’re really good with kids.”
At Jungjoon’s words, Yoonhae curved the corners of his lips briefly.
“Kids are always…”
“…”
Jungjoon waited, but no more came. Yoonhae brushed it off with a vague smile and placed a hand on Jungjoon’s shoulder. After a moment lost in thought, Jungjoon grabbed his arm and led him toward the carousel ahead.
“We’re riding this?”
Yoonhae furrowed his brow slightly, glancing around. Most riders were preschoolers with their parents.
“You ride what you want to.”
Jungjoon grinned naturally, pulling Yoonhae along. Entering and choosing a brightly colored horse, Jungjoon mounted it while Yoonhae climbed onto his with reluctant movements. A bemused chuckle escaped him.
Music played, and the platform began to spin. As the horses pumped up and down as if galloping, cheerful tunes mingled with the delighted noise of children.
Jungjoon raised the disposable camera he’d bought at the entrance. He snapped a shot of Yoonhae’s profile, riding expressionlessly beside him. Yoonhae turned away as if the closeness bothered him, then gripped the pole and looked back at Jungjoon. Staring with a faintly prim air, he soon let his facial muscles relax into a natural smile. Jungjoon didn’t miss it and pressed the shutter.
Even after stowing the camera, the smile lingered. Throughout the spinning ride, he genuinely enjoyed himself. The laughter carried over even after dismounting, softening his face to look far younger than his age.
The two roamed the park like students, hitting every ride. After darting around for hours, the sun began to set.
“Hey… could you take a picture of us?”
The voice came while they sipped drinks. Turning, Jungjoon saw a girl who looked like a high schooler holding out her phone. Behind her, a group of peers peeked curiously.
Jungjoon took the phone without hesitation. As the excited kids posed, he bent his knees, carefully snapping the shot.
“But did you two come here alone?”
The girl, retrieving her phone, asked with unchecked curiosity. Giggles erupted from her friends, hands covering their mouths.
“Yeah.”
“Are you a couple, maybe?!”
She asked boldly, eyes sparkling. Jungjoon hesitated, glancing at Yoonhae to affirm, when Yoonhae suddenly wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him in.
“He’s my brother.”
The kids erupted in unison, “Wow!”
“You don’t look alike at all!”
“Who’s better-looking?”
At Yoonhae’s shameless question, the girls pointed—two at Yoonhae, two at Jungjoon—covering their mouths with shy smiles.
“Thanks—!”
Satisfied with the photo, the group waved goodbye and drifted off. Jungjoon awkwardly returned the gesture, then tossed out a remark once they were gone.
“Not your wife, huh?”
Yoonhae looked down at Jungjoon with an unreadable expression.
“…”
Jungjoon subtly took his hand.
“Next time someone asks, say I’m your husband.”
“…”
“Oh, not husband yet, huh.”
“…”
“Boyfriend, then.”
He teased, but Yoonhae stayed silent. Like in the car, he turned his head the other way. Jungjoon didn’t miss the odd twitch of his facial muscles before he did.
“Come here a sec.”
Leading him by the hand, Jungjoon slipped into a secluded spot. Behind buildings and trees, he pulled Yoonhae close, who wore an uncharacteristically innocent look.
Wrapping arms around his neck, Jungjoon kissed him slowly. As it deepened, Yoonhae gripped Jungjoon’s waist. Each time Yoonhae moved with excitement, Jungjoon shifted angles, refusing to yield control. Skillfully probing inside, he drew on all his experience to lead.
Instead of dominating, he flooded Yoonhae with the stimulation he craved. Like a beast stripped of strength, Yoonhae was dragged along, eventually panting in complete submission.
Emerging from the heated exchange, Jungjoon’s nape burned. Suggesting they head back, Yoonhae surprised him with a response.
“Let’s stay for the parade.”
“Oh… right.”
Jungjoon had briefly forgotten what the parade meant to him. To cap off the day, they ate a quick dinner and waited. Night fell fully before trumpets blared, signaling the procession’s start.
“That day… when I couldn’t move and fell asleep calling for you, I dreamed of that amusement park we went to. That chaotic parade we watched together—I was searching for you in it.”
“There, among happy families, I was alone, wandering, looking for you. Trembling, wailing, shoving through people… desperately calling for you in the dazzling lights, endlessly.”
“Forever.”
Jungjoon mulled over those words as the brilliant parade unfolded. Glancing over, he saw Yoonhae captivated by the spectacle. Once a head shorter than him as a kid, now grown—Jungjoon felt a strange pang. Turning away, he quietly clasped Yoonhae’s hand amid the crowd.
They held hands through the throng until the fantastical show ended. Even leaving the park, the dreamlike afterglow lingered. Cherry blossoms at the entrance, blooming wildly, glowed mystically in the night—a sight as enchanting as the parade.
“Was it fun?”
Yoonhae nodded at the question.
“Yeah, it was fun.”
He flashed a smile Jungjoon hadn’t seen before. That pure, childlike grin blanked Jungjoon’s mind momentarily. Forgetting his intent, he smiled awkwardly and turned away.
His heart pounded. Fear? Guilt? The unplaceable rhythm thumped in his chest for a long while.
Back at the villa, exhaustion hit hard. Unlike the drained Jungjoon, Yoonhae buzzed with leftover energy.
They shared chocolate and headed to shower together. Expecting sex in the bathroom, Jungjoon was surprised when Yoonhae refrained. Instead, he lathered shampoo into foam, playfully shaping Jungjoon’s hair into horns—a silly act that amused him.
After drying off and settling into bed early, Yoonhae let out a deep breath.
“I think I’ll sleep really well tonight.”
He said, cradling Jungjoon’s waist with his palm.
“…Yeah…”
Jungjoon replied, feeling his heavy eyelids droop. The room’s lights went out, leaving only the faint glow of the bedside lamp. Amid encroaching drowsiness, Jungjoon replayed the day’s events. Was this enough? Could this be called “the end”?
“Today…”
“Hm?”
“Today was the best day ever.”
Yoonhae’s words opened Jungjoon’s closed eyes.
“…Really?”
At the question, he answered again.
“…Yeah. The best day.”
In his gaze, Jungjoon read unspoken sincerity. Finding the answer to his lingering doubts, he slowly raised a hand to stroke Yoonhae’s hair.
“…I’m glad.”
Yoonhae leaned in, pressing their foreheads together. Mirroring Jungjoon, he languidly ran fingers through Jungjoon’s hair and over his cheek.
“What about you, Hyung?”
“…Me too. I loved today too.”
It made me happy. Adding that, Jungjoon smiled.
“Let’s go again. To the amusement park.”
Yoonhae spoke in a childlike tone. Jungjoon nodded, mirroring his smile.
“Next year, then?”
“…Yeah. No, every year. Just us.”
A small laugh escaped Jungjoon.
“Sure, that works. Every year, us.”
Promising without hesitation, Jungjoon marveled at his own buried cruelty. Judging who was crueler now, with a numbed mind, felt pointless.
As they talked, sleepiness faded. Naturally, it flowed into sex—stripping each other’s robes like ignited lovers, entwining naked.
Jungjoon pounced more eagerly than ever. As if he’d waited for this all along, he passionately sucked Yoonhae’s lips and climbed atop him. Pulling him deep inside—into a place he hadn’t known existed—he held tight. Clenching as if never letting go, he rocked fiercely, crashing together. After waves of climax swept through, he gave Yoonhae the words he’d surely longed for most.
“…I love you…”
“…”
“I love you, Yoonhae…”
Tears spilled from Yoonhae’s pleasure-twisted eyes.
It was the grand finale, the moment everything came together.
⟡˖ ࣪
Waking the next day, the bright weather had turned dark, as if it’d been a lie. And Yoonhae, inexplicably, was running a fever.
“You’re burning up. You okay?”
“…Yeah.”
Had last night’s repeated exertion worn him out? Jungjoon found it strange. Not him, drained by fatigue, but the energetic Yoonhae falling ill.
“I’ll make something to eat.”
Jungjoon gently pressed his feverish forehead. Kissing him briefly like a caring partner, he slid out of bed.
Descending to the first floor, a chill hit him. Spring or not, cloudy days seemed to drop the temperature fast.
Feeling the cold creep up his spine, he headed to the kitchen. His brisk steps halted abruptly at the fish tank.
Pausing, he peered back into the tank he’d nearly passed. One carp lay belly-up, dead.
The other, thankfully, still swam. Staring at the dead and living side by side, Jungjoon carefully removed the corpse.
“…”
Unable to do much, he brought it to the kitchen and wrapped it in a towel. Gazing down, he set it aside on the sink, helpless.
All he’d done was retrieve and cover the dead fish, yet an overwhelming exhaustion crashed over him, as if he’d labored all day. Unwittingly, his drive vanished. A sudden urge to leave—to walk endlessly and disappear from the world—took hold.
Snapped out of his daze, Jungjoon recalled his task. Moving mechanically, he began making porridge. Whether it qualified as such was debatable—just instant rice boiled with water and an egg tossed in.
After cooking, he prepared a liquid cold remedy. Mixing medicine with hot water in a cup, he secretly added sleeping pill powder from a hidden capsule. Grabbing a cooling patch from the fridge, he loaded everything onto a tray and climbed to the second floor.
“…Hey, sit up for a bit.”
Yoonhae had fallen back asleep.
“You need to eat and take medicine.”
Jungjoon coaxed like a parent, brushing his hair. Stirring awake, Yoonhae groaned and lifted his eyelids. Pulling Jungjoon’s cool hand to his hot cheek, he rubbed it there. Asked if he was in pain, he shook his head like a sulky child.
Jungjoon placed the cooling patch on his forehead and propped a pillow behind him. Balancing the porridge on his lap, he spoon-fed him. Like Yoonhae had once done for him, he blew on each spoonful, patiently bringing it to his mouth.
Seeming truly sick, Yoonhae was subdued, his expression dazed and movements docile. Finishing the porridge, he obediently drank the liquid medicine Jungjoon offered.
Checking the empty cup, Jungjoon stood abruptly.
“Sleep well. I’ll be downstairs.”
Turning to leave, his wrist was grabbed. Looking down, he saw Yoonhae, eyes half-closed, brow furrowed.
“…Should I stay?”
Yoonhae nodded weakly, and Jungjoon sank into a chair.
“I’ll stay here, so sleep deeply.”
Reassuring him, Jungjoon pulled the blanket to his chest. Patting it gently, Yoonhae kept his gaze on him, eyes fluttering but not fully closing.
He didn’t seem entirely at ease. Unable to relax fully, he reacted sensitively to Jungjoon’s presence. Even holding hands, he mumbled feverishly.
“…Hm? What’d you say?”
Leaning closer, Jungjoon heard a groan-like murmur.
“…Beside me…, come beside me…”
Planning to leave once he slept, Jungjoon saw that wouldn’t work now. Reluctantly, he lay beside him as requested. Slipping into Yoonhae’s open arm, he nestled against his feverish armpit, using it as a pillow. Pressing their bodies close, feeling the heat radiate, Yoonhae sighed.
“Hey…”
His voice dropped a tone.
“Did you know I have a brother…?”
Puzzled, Jungjoon looked at him as he turned his head.
“No… had one.”
Fevered delirium, perhaps.
“Not blood-related… but brothers like you and Ian.”
Listening to the confession, Jungjoon realized he spoke truth.
“He… my brother… was their real kid.”
Real kid. Jungjoon swallowed at the phrase. Shocked by the unexpected tale, he fixated on Yoonhae’s dry lips.
“They couldn’t have kids, so they took me in… then got pregnant out of nowhere.”
Yoonhae laughed, still incredulous.
“But I… until they kicked me out, I thought they were my real parents. My dead brother too… I thought we shared blood.”
Hearing this, faint memories stirred in Jungjoon—rumors about Yoonhae from their orphanage days.
“Looking back, I was always second.”
“…”
“Food, toys, clothes, anything… they acted like I didn’t exist…”
All they cared about was Yoonseong…
Yoonhae’s eyes narrowed as he muttered under his breath.
“I was just… a dog in that house. Sometimes worse than a dog.”
Because I was the stray they picked up? He added, as if asking himself.
“That’s true too. Yeah… If I’d been their real kid… things might’ve been different.”
“…”
“But there’s this too. Some are born like that… creepy… not pretty, fluffy butterflies, but worms crawling from damp places… the kind you don’t even want to touch.”
Stopping there, Yoonhae coughed dryly. Jungjoon pressed a concerned hand to his chest. Asking about his state with a worried look, Yoonhae just smirked faintly.
“Ha… that kind… no matter what they do, it’s hopeless, Hyung.”
“…”
“Yeah… no matter what… getting ‘love’ is tough.”
Breathing heavily, he sighed again.
“So… my bright, cute brother Yoonseong, with their blood… he could always get that love. From parents, relatives… even strangers.”
“…”
“But you know what’s funny?”
A scoff slipped in. Yoonhae continued, as if relishing it.
“He was born a stutterer.”
His crisp lips curved upward, then twisted and fell.
“So… his parents only had eyes for him. Their precious real kid stuttering—they fretted he’d turn out a fool.”
Heh heh heh heh… His laugh broke apart.
“But then I started copying it.”
“…”
“Being bright and cute… acting charming—I couldn’t mimic that.”
“…”
“But that idiot stuttering… I could do it easily.”
Jungjoon swallowed hard.
“At first, I got some attention. What’s this? For once, they looked at me… took me to the hospital… but soon they diagnosed it as faking. They caught me mimicking my brother on purpose.”
“…”
“After that, I was treated worse than before, naturally. I’d become the jerk who mocked his sick brother for fun… tormenting already upset parents… the household’s public enemy overnight.”
Yoonhae rubbed his mouth.
“But the crazy part… it wouldn’t stop.”
“…”
“It stuck—like I’d caught it for real. No matter how I tried to speak normally… it wouldn’t come out right.”
Cursed, maybe? He glanced at Jungjoon, sneering.
“Even after they saw through the act, I kept stuttering… must’ve looked even more disgusting to them.”
“…”
“One day, they threw my food on the floor, saying I was mocking him.”
“…”
“But fuck, I was pissed too… I couldn’t fix it. I’d say it wasn’t on purpose, stuttering like an idiot hundreds of times, but they wouldn’t believe me.”
He giggled, eyes lost in memory.
“Funnier still, they treated me like a retard for it. A creepy, dirty one… like a plague. Yoonseong stayed their cute, lovable, pitiful son… their only aching finger… fretting over him daily…”
Jungjoon’s hand on his chest tightened.
“I still remember the first time I got slapped.”
His eyes darkened as he added it.
“It was Yoonseong’s birthday. Mine was a week earlier, by the way… Guess what I got? Lucky me, I got something. A cheap toy from the mart—not a remote-control one like Yoonseong’s, just a hand-rolled, poorly painted yellow car.”
“…”
“No cake, no party. So, kid me got jealous. The party, the song… watching him blow out candles, I blew them out first without thinking.”
“…”
“He bawled, and then a flash hit me. Next thing I knew, I was sprawled out.”
“…”
“I was six… got a real taste of a slap.”
My cheek swelled and burned…
“They were busy soothing crying Yoonseong. Once he stopped, they restarted the party like I wasn’t there—singing, blowing candles again…”
His voice gradually faded.
“How do I put it…”
“…”
“They looked so happy.”
Ending the recollection matter-of-factly, he smiled with cracked lips. A shapeless, fleeting grin brushed past him.
Jungjoon sat frozen, unable to speak.
“Pretty messed up, huh, me?”
His gaze, fixed on the air, dropped to Jungjoon.
“…”
Jungjoon couldn’t muster a word about his story. He’d figured it wouldn’t be ordinary, but not this far from it. The stuttering’s origin shocked him, but the adoptive parents’ tale hit harder.
His mind swirled chaotically. As an outsider, as an adult, he couldn’t bear it. Taking in a clueless child and failing to raise him with care—abusing him instead, then abandoning him—stirred both despair and rage.
“…People unfit to be parents, to you…”
He couldn’t finish, throat choking up.
“But… thinking about it, it’s not hard to understand.”
Yoonhae, watching him, added casually.
“You’d know, Hyung—you abandoned me too.”
The unexpected jab furrowed Jungjoon’s brow.
“Even if you were my parent, wouldn’t it be similar? Maybe kinder… giving love… or something like it…”
“…”
“If I’d been Ian’s brother… think about it. Wouldn’t you have ditched me too?”
He wasn’t mocking—he meant it.
“Honestly, I wouldn’t raise me either.”
“…”
“Not even I could handle someone like…”
Jungjoon couldn’t listen anymore. Didn’t want to. He hastily covered Yoonhae’s mouth. Sucking his lips, gnawing at the flesh between, he blocked the rest. Each time Yoonhae tried to speak, Jungjoon dove deeper, tangling their tongues.
“Haa…”
Hot breaths collided, heat spreading to his core. What was this feeling? Sadness? Pity? Anger? Twisted lust? Too caught up to analyze, he surrendered to the act.
His eyes burned, fingertips and toes flaring hot instantly. Seized by fierce heat, Jungjoon reached out first. Unable to hold back, he tore Yoonhae’s robe open at the chest.
His fevered palms roamed the firm body. Haa… A strained sound burst from Yoonhae’s mouth. Jungjoon’s ears heated, blood rushing below in a flash.
Each touch on smooth skin drew moans. Those alone swelled Jungjoon’s penis to a painful tautness, nearly brushing his stomach.
“Mmh…!”
A thirst-like urge—to hold and taste him now or go mad—drove him down. He latched onto the firm chest, sucking the erect, reddish-brown nipples greedily while gripping Yoonhae’s hard penis.
“Ahh…!”
Yoonhae’s body jolted as if springing up. He writhed like a bound torture victim. Yet his cries brimmed with heightened ecstasy. The heated moans ripened like juices bursting below.
Drawn in, Jungjoon took his penis into his mouth. Swallowing the precum welling at the tip, he deftly teased the glans with his tongue. Enveloping it to his throat, he sucked hotly, meticulously.
Yoonhae moaned like a weeping man. Soon, semen erupted, spilling murkily at Jungjoon’s lips as he lifted his head. Yoonhae’s reddened, half-lidded eyes dazed out. A loud gulp echoed from Jungjoon’s throat, thick with the musky load.
“…”
In a fevered haze, Yoonhae gazed at Jungjoon. Lowering his head, Jungjoon kissed him and climbed atop. Reaching down, he probed his own insides. Digging urgently, he grabbed Yoonhae’s penis and aligned it. He needed their bodies joined—fast—or he’d lose his mind to the frantic itch.
“Ah…!”
Flesh pushed in, sparking pain. A desperate, pain-like pleasure flooded him, both unbearable and craved.
“Ngh…!”