Chapter Text
Sunoo can feel the growing ache on his calves as he pedals his way up a fatiguing incline. With every passing second, he regrets taking the bicycle instead of the motorized scooter tucked away in the garage, cobwebs and all.
When he finally reaches a relatively flat part of the lane, Sunoo stops for a moment to catch his breath. He eyes the basket attached to the front of the bicycle and its contents. Spring onions. Ginger. Tomatoes. Olives.
Tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, he mentally runs through the list of things his Aunt Seolhyun instructed him to buy and compares it to the violently shuffled ingredients inside the metal container. He hums as soon as he deems all the items were present. He knew he checked them before leaving the grocery, but Sunoo thinks that confirming once again wouldn’t hurt.
It had been more than two months since Sunoo moved back with his aunt to his hometown, a small village near the sea. The city, he believes, is beautiful but suffocating—it picks you apart little by little. The stress-inducing traffic, the stench of the trains beyond 7 p.m., and the overall work-and-life balance are draining all on their own.
Living alone as a young bachelor, surrounded by insanely attractive and distinguishable individuals, may seem like the ultimate dream for most people of his age, but he would beg to differ; deep inside, Sunoo craved the simplicity of life—one where he could languidly start his day, free from the tight competition the city subtly imposes on its inhabitants.
Sunoo hears a high-pitched bell jingle behind him and sees a cyclist nearing him as he turns around. He pedals once again and heads straight to his aunt’s house, enjoying the sea breeze and the significant yet tolerable sticky feeling it leaves on his skin.
He looks to his right and observes the deep blue expanse of water littered with colorful boats; adjacent to it, a golden beach with families playing by the shoreline runs north more than what Sunoo could perceive. To his left, lush green trees separate a mixture of traditional hanoks and modern houses, and the occasional trucks and motorcycles pass by.
The city is beautiful, yet the seaside is breathtaking as it is calming.
He eventually reaches his destination. A sizeable Little Hands Pottery Shop signboard nailed on the wooden fence immediately comes into view, with a humble white-and-green bungalow sitting on the center of the patch of land. Flowery shrubs lined the sides of the house as vines crawled their way up the walls.
Sunoo crosses the road not before checking both ways and enters the premises. He passes by the garden arch sprawling with leather flowers contrasting the earthy green of the leaves. He leaves the bicycle by the window and enters the house with the groceries.
As soon as he hears the familiar chime of the hanging bell installed on the door, he is greeted by a woman with muddy hands sporting a dirty apron.
“Sunoo dear, help me with this please,” she ushers with her hand, “I can’t get the knot behind me.” The woman lets out a graceful laugh, snaggletooth on full display which complements her boxy smile. Sunoo leaves the paper bag on the counter and trudges to his aunt.
“You’re right. I should have used the scooter,” Sunoo huffs in defeat.
Seolhyun turns her back to Sunoo and the boy proceeds to untangle the double-knotted strings of the apron.
“I told you so. That bike has been here since I was a kid. You’re lucky it didn’t give out while you were on the road or else you’d be drenched in sweat by now.”
“Oh it was definitely a struggle for me to pedal up that incline,” he dusts off the clay dust on his hands after untangling the strings, “I swear I was at the brink of losing consciousness when I reached the top. How do people even cycle up here?” Sunoo groans as he remembers his calvary earlier.
Seolhyun faces her nephew and pats his cheek as a form of sympathy, a teasing grin on her face. He jokingly tuts but smiles immediately because of the warmth encasing his right cheek. “Lesson learned then?”
“Yes,” he chuckles. Sunoo turns around and heads towards the table with newly-made decorative mugs and vases. Carefully lifting the tray the pieces rested on, he slides a large piece of plastic underneath, sets the tray down, and covers a dozen mugs entirely. As he walks towards the shelf lined with various ceramics of color, form, and shape, he hears the sound of the water running and the soft buzz of the refrigerator.
Maybe we’ll have some meat tomorrow? With a side of kimchi? Sunoo’s stomach grumbles at the thought. He brushes off the tempting visualization of the meal and heads towards the backroom, a slight bounce in his steps.
Sunoo opens the door and, to his surprise, finds a small satchel neatly placed on top of his work table. He reads the note attached to it:
I know you needed new materials. You’re welcome lol. Happy birthday, Sunoo. It’s a day early, but I couldn’t wait to give this to you. Love you :)
- Aunt Seolhyun
He immediately runs back to the kitchen and bestows upon his aunt the tightest hug he could give. She shoos him away with a “Love you. You’re itching to get back to your project, I know. Leave this old woman alone.” Sunoo laughs and retreats to his own station.
In the corner of a room stands a sculpture, approximately one to two inches above the 5-feet mark, covered in plastic. With gentle yet swift hands, he removes the layer and crinkles his nose from the moisture that had accumulated overnight. Sunoo steps back and eyes his work for the past two months.
Aside from helping his Aunt Seolhyun run her business, Sunoo uses his free time to work on a project he had been putting off while living in the city.
The human figure is biologically male with a toned yet slim form. Anatomically speaking, Sunoo thinks the figure could be used as a model—a mannequin of sorts.
It boasts slender limbs and a lithe frame that some people fervently desire. From the musculature to its skeletal precision, Sunoo feels proud of what he has done, but he is by no means the greatest of them all.
However, like all people with artistic pursuits, he had a glaring flaw in his project: the sculpture is headless. Great body and all, but headless for pity’s sake.
To be fair, Sunoo had already sculpted the head, but it lacked the most important attribute of a human—its face.
Next to the sculpture is the literal head devoid of essential features; flat and lumpy slabs of clay substituted parts of what should have been the eyes, eyebrows, nose, and lips. He rubs the tiredness out of his eyes with his clean arm and huffs.
With determination and conviction present, he sits in front of the featureless head and conjures the inspiration to think of his sculpture’s face.
Sunoo initially took this as a challenge to create a human figure without a model, but he failed midway while trying to form the torso because he cannot—and he emphasizes cannot —create the torso without it looking like Slenderman’s.
So now, he did have some Google help with the body, but Sunoo promised himself that he would create the face on his own.
He starts by creating two depressions on the wet clay for the eyes, gingerly pressing the pads of his thumbs to not make them too sunken as he wanted the figure to exude more of a youthful vibe rather than leave a sultry impression.
Then, he proceeds with the nose. A flat nose or one with a well-defined arch? Sunoo believes that there is an exact, predetermined goal for a fixed methodology, but as he had convinced himself over the course of two months, there is beauty in arbitrary actions.
With his thumb and index fingers, he creates a triangular shape, pinching the longer portion to create a thinner nose bridge. He sees the nose become one with a slight curved bridge and a little upturned tip. He hums to himself. Good.
By the time Sunoo snapped out of his artistic high and frenzy, he realized that a huge chunk of the day had already passed. An orange glow cast all over the station and the hum of cicadas grew quieter until he can faintly hear them from inside the room.
He raises his arms in the air, stretching after staying in a static position for hours. Moments later, periodical vibrations thrum against his thigh along with a muffled piano ringtone, signaling a call.
He wipes the clay off his hands before fishing for the mobile device. He swipes on the green button.
“Hey there national artist,” the voice from the other end greets.
“Shut up, Jungwon. I am busy,” Sunoo complains, but mirth is evident in his voice.
Jungwon and Sunoo had been friends ever since they both discovered that the tooth fairy was a childhood hoax (all thanks to Jungwon who had shared that he saw his parents slipping a bill under his pillow while he was pretending to be asleep). Since then, they had remained in touch despite one leaving for the city and one staying by the sea. Fortunately, the former decided to move back to where his roots were.
“Hell no. I have a huge feeling in my gut that you’re going to waste your day away tomorrow tucked in your cavern.”
“Oh my,” Sunoo fake gasps, “are you a seer, oh great Jungwon?”
“Yes. And I can see myself dragging you out of your manhole so you can burn under the sun, you clay-loving weirdo,” his friend teases back. Sunoo can hear Jay saying “Come on. Convince him, babe.”
“For god’s sake, Sunoo. It’s your birthday tomorrow. We— you —should go out,” Jungwon continues after a brief pause.
“Alright.” Sunoo stands up and stretches his legs. He tiptoes and then rests his weight on his heels, repeating the rocking motion.
“What?”
“What?”
“That’s it? You’re not gonna beg me otherwise?” his friend was shocked.
“I’m not. What’s wrong with agreeing on your first try?” Sunoo inquires as if he had done something unusual.
“Well, well. What have you eaten today? Are you alright?” Jungwon jests, but the latter question was genuinely laced with concern.
“I am fine, Wonie. I figured I should spend time outside as well, you know? Being cooped up here has made me pale,” Sunoo laughs at himself.
“Alright then. Jay and I will pick you up at around 5 p.m, okay? I heard there’s a recently opened seafood restaurant near the pier.”
“Got it, Sir!”
“Whatever,” Sunoo hears Jungwon chuckle on the line, “rest up, Sunoo. Love you!”
“Love you too!” Sunoo smiles as he ends the call.
He places his phone back inside his pocket and directs his attention to his posture-ruining art piece.
Everything was already in place except for its lips.
The brows were thick yet far from intimidating and despite the lack of color, the eyes were piercing enough to draw a fluttering feeling from the pit of Sunoo’s stomach. It had a well-defined jawline and a slightly pointed chin, but the lips— the lips were nowhere to be found.
And so Sunoo works on it, excitement flowing throughout his body at the thought of finishing his almost three-month-long piece. He decides on making both the upper and lower lips proportional, with the cupid’s bow not so prominent.
A feature that balances the sharpness of the rest.
He carves the clay intricately and masterfully, switching between his new wire loop and needle tools to make the lips as realistic as possible.
As soon as he concludes with the mouth, he brings the head to the body to assemble the piece altogether.
The stool he stood on slightly wobbles, but he pays it no mind.
Conscientiously, he pushes the head down the thick wire protruding from the neck and adjusts its orientation along the way.
He steps down from the stool and observes from a few steps back. It would be an understatement to say that Sunoo is happy; pride is radiating from his being.
He presses his hand against his chest and takes in a deep breath, exhaling with upturned lips as he glosses over the details of his work.
He takes a few steps forward.
Closer. A little bit more.
He ultimately decides on stepping on the stool again.
Slightly a few inches taller than the human figure, his fingers trace the sculpture’s jaw, its nose, and the faint hump of the glabella. His eyes flicker over the protruding clavicles and he raises his brow at the soiled spot on the base of its neck. With his left hand, he fixes the virtually inconspicuous imperfection.
And finally, as if in a daze, he cups the face of the man and gives his inanimate creation a warm smile.
“It’s a pleasure meeting you.”
A cold breeze blows past Sunoo and he wraps his thin cardigan tighter around his frame, nose scrunching as he sniffles consecutively. He looks at Jungwon beside him rubbing his left hand against his denim pants to generate heat. Jungwon picks up his second can of beer by the rim and opens it loudly.
“You good there?” his friend asks him before taking a sip.
“Yeah. My mind’s kinda foggy and the cold is not helping at all. I think I’m gonna pass out here,” Sunoo rambles on, rubbing his arms harshly. He should’ve brought a thicker layer.
After watching Jay and Jungwon eat with much gusto, Sunoo suggested that they drink on the pier. Jay had gone back to the convenience store to buy heat packs and some chips for them to munch on; on the other hand, Jungwon and Sunoo, already anticipating the sound of the waves, had gone ahead to hang out in the area overlooking the sea.
Sunoo sinks further in the public bench. “Can I just say that I am thankful for you, and Jay, and my aunt, and this place, and just— everything in here.”
Jungwon looks at him wide-eyed, startled by the confession out of nowhere. “Is this the alcohol talking?” he chuckles
“No, silly. I am just grateful. It’s just that,” Sunoo takes a deep breath, “the past year has been difficult for me, and moving back here was such a breath of fresh air. “
Jungwon hums, urging Sunoo to continue.
“It was draining there. It felt like time was moving in a blur, and all I could do was watch it pass by me or let it carry me away—and the people, god, the people. Don’t get me wrong. The people there are good, but you can feel them slowly withering away, too. I can literally see the life being sucked out of them—I can’t fucking explain it,” he drawls by the end of his spiel.
Worry present in his eyes, Jungwon scoots closer to his friend and rests his head against Sunoo’s shoulder.
“I’m proud of you for choosing to walk away,” he holds Sunoo’s hand, “it takes courage to leave a toxic place.”
“It’s a shame, Wonie. I wish I had lived there longer, but I don’t think I belong there. People who thrive in the city? Fucking gods, I tell you. I admire them.”
“I’m gonna make the most out of this place,” Sunoo declares and abruptly stands up. He hears Jungwon curse as he loses balance. “Now that I’m done with my sculpture, I am definitely going to live. Explore, you know?”
Sunoo puts his hands on his waist, leaning his body weight on his left leg. He sniffs before fishing for a coin in his pocket. In a drunken stupor, he sways on his way to the railing of the pier, quite fast for someone who has had three cans of beer already.
“Watch it!” his friend stands up and runs towards him. Jungwon holds Sunoo’s arm tightly in fear of the man accidentally falling off the pier.
“But first! I think I deserve a boyfriend now, huh?” Sunoo shouts at the darkness in front of him.
Specks of light were scattered across the scene in front of the two and the loud crashing of waves muffled Sunoo’s proclamations.
“I wish I had a boyfriend! God! I love Jungwon and Jay, but if I see them sucking faces one more time, I am gonna burn my entire Jeno photocard collection!”
Jungwon cackles, steadying his friend once again.
“I deserve a boyfriend,” Sunoo throws the coin to the sea, “if anyone can hear me, please give me a boyfriend. Send me a sign! Anything” Sunoo flails his hands above him and Jungwon struggles to keep his friend from flinging both of them off the structure.
“This is not a wishing fountain, dummy! That’s a complete waste of five hundred won!” Jungwon pinches the bridge of his nose before seeing his boyfriend carrying two paper bags with both hands.
“Babe, come help me here!”
Sunoo, as if a machine shutting off completely, turns into jelly in Jungwon’s arms. He doesn’t hear Jay and Jungwon’s phone going off and them maniacally laughing at him.
The couple brings Sunoo back to his home and sends the blackmail content in their group chat, a “Happy birthday, Sunoo!” following a whole album of a drunk, red-faced man.
There is a loud ringing in his ear that douses Sunoo awake. In a millisecond, he sits upright and he immediately feels a splitting headache forming.
He knew he was lightweight but he figured that his birthday was a go signal for him to drink to oblivion. Let loose once in a while, no?
He grips the backrest of their sofa in an attempt to steady himself and head to the kitchen to drink Aspirin, scrunching the fabric as he winces in pain. Sunoo feels his lips are absolutely chapped, but that is nothing a glass of cold water can’t fix, anyway.
He pushes the Aspirin down his throat with water and recognizes a slightly bitter, chalky texture on his tongue. Gently, he parts his lips and brushes his index finger against them.
“Clay?”
Sunoo immediately gargles water in his mouth and splashes cold water on his face to wake himself up fully. What a weird thing to wake up to, he thought.
He heads toward their coffee maker to brew himself a nice cup of black coffee, checking the mugs on the shelf and pushing back a baby blue cup marginally out of the line to ensure that all the ceramics followed the height and size trend. The smell wafts throughout the kitchen and Sunoo revels in the combination of early mornings and fresh beans.
Eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed, he presses the button sluggishly and rests his hip against the marble counter. Sunoo observes. The coffee drips slowly. Sunoo watches bubbles forming on the surface of the liquid. Patting himself out of his daze, he nurses the cup in his hand and prepares to start the day.
Early mornings usually consist of Sunoo drinking his regular coffee, eating two slices of bread, setting up the shop, and continuing his project, but now that he no longer has to complete the last step of his methodical routine, he opted to clean the backroom he had been religiously occupying for the past couple of months.
Armed with some rags and a broom, he makes his way to the wooden shed beside the backroom, yet as he catches a glimpse of the inside of his workplace through the door left wide open, he stops in his tracks. Where is the statue?
“Aunt Seolhyun!” he shouts.
“Yes?” the voice of his aunt reaches him with little volume. The woman was probably tending to her plants, he thought.
“Did you move the project I have here?”
“I haven’t been there since the day before your birthday. Why? What happened?’
“Nevermind!”
Sunoo drops the cleaning materials on his hands and enters the room with caution, stance rigid and eyes searching every space within perception.
Cracks. The idea of cracks forming on his statue because of recklessness or a potential nosy neighbor makes him shudder. The exterior door was left open so it’s possible that someone moved, or worse, stole his passion project.
Sunoo stops for a while to calm his racing mind.
Before his brain was able to conjure up more terrifying thoughts (e.g., a murderer inside his home), he hears the thud of metal against wood behind the black room divider. He grabs one of the dull chisels beside him and advances, steps light as a feather. Anything can be used as a weapon, after all.
Anxiety washes over him in full blast when he reaches the edge of the wooden divider and sees a tall shadow. Tall. Slim frame. A thief?
Pulling every ounce of courage out of him, Sunoo firmly retracts the divider out of the way, other hand clutching the makeshift weapon so tightly that his knuckles were close to white.
What he sees was definitely beyond what he had imagined. In front of him, a man stood with regal posture, back turned against Sunoo, inspecting the tools laid down in front of him. Sunoo observes the man: broad shoulders, toned triceps, wide back, and… naked.
“What the—”
As if on cue, the man turns around and Sunoo puts his hand over his mouth to muffle his scream.
The black-haired man looks at him with wide eyes, but he doesn’t budge from his spot. On his hand was one of Sunoo’s double wire end tools he got from his aunt. With fear and confusion instilled in Sunoo’s being at the very moment, he takes a few steps back, bumping into a cabinet as he scrambles away from the stranger.
“My dear Creator!” the man in front of him excitedly exclaims, “what is this unusual metal object?” He raises the tool to eye level and inspects it meticulously, doe eyes forming as he brings it closer to his face.
“Who are you?” Sunoo shouts, “why are you here?” He grabs the handle of the chisel with both hands and points it to the man in front. Sunoo can see his hands shaking, can feel his eyes watering, but he pushes further.
“I said, who are you? Why are you at my house? Where is my sculpture?” he croaks out, knees threatening to give out. He brushes the tears in his eyes and watches any sudden movements from the man, who was standing innocently. He notices the man drop his head, downcast.
“I must have not met your expectations seeing as you do not recognize me at all, dear Maker,” the man whispers, lips jutted into a pout. The man looks at Sunoo as if he wishes that Sunoo knows him—as if he was vital to Sunoo’s existence. But Sunoo didn’t. Who is this man, anyway?
“What?” Sunoo lets out an exasperated sigh. He was afraid but mostly confused. “What expectations? Should I know you?”
And then it clicks.
Casting an ethereal gleam on the man’s skin and figure, the sunlight also elevates the contours of the man’s face: his cheekbones, his angled jaw, the hood of his eyes. Everything was falling into place. But not quite.
Sunoo walks towards the man, steps slow and calculated. Seeing as the boy in front of him does not do anything out of caution and defense, he continues to make his way in front of the surreal human being.
Surprisingly, the man does not seem aggravated under Sunoo’s scrutinizing gaze but rather… gets shy about it. He observes the man avoid eye contact, fiddling with his hands in an attempt to distract himself while Sunoo inspects him.
The bewildered sculptor gently cups the man’s face with his hands. Sunoo checks every detail with great wonder and confusion; his eyes flittering across every part of the man’s face was indicative of the millions of thoughts racing in his mind. The slope of his nose. The growth of his brows. The curve of his lips. Sunoo inches his face closer to the man’s.
He feels the cheeks he was holding warm-up. Sunoo caresses the right ear of the breathtaking man. Warm to the touch and tinged red, as well.
Said man had evaded eye contact for god-knows how long he was subject to Sunoo’s observation as if he were a specimen under a microscope. However, in this case, the specimen in question was human-sized and, Sunoo gulps at the thought, once was his clay statue. There were also moles on the man’s face that he does not remember adding, but they nonetheless add to his charm.
Sunoo drops his hands and steps back, giving the boy some space. “Holy shi—”
Cheeks dusted pink, the man speaks up, voice low. “Creator, am I lacking in any way? Do I not look like a ‘boyfriend’ to you?”
Overwhelmed by wonder and utter confusion, Sunoo asks a question in lieu of an answer.
“How are you even alive?” he exhales.
“Why because of your gift, Creator. You carved every inch and curve of my body. The gods have blessed you with exceptional hands.”
“Please, stop with the ‘Creator’ or 'Maker',” he waves his hand, “‘Sunoo’ is enough.”
“I should not. How blasphemous that would be!” the man utters in horror.
Oh, dear god. How is this even happening?
“It’s fine. I’d feel much more comfortable if you did that,” he gives him a reassuring smile before holding his hand. Sunoo observes everything—from his nails down to the lines of his palm. He traces these lines absentmindedly. What the hell is happening?
Of course, Sunoo is not an oblivious person so when he notices the boy’s body stiffen—possibly because of all the nonconsensual touching he received from Sunoo—he immediately apologizes and drops the boy’s hand.
“Please never apologize, Sunoo! Forgive me for seeming uncomfortable in your presence. It’s just that,” the man gulps before looking at Sunoo again “I did not expect you to be so forward.” Sunoo notices the blush forming on the man’s face anew.
Then, once more, it dawns upon him that the man was naked. All the tension, fear, stress, and confusion oscillating in his body a while ago had driven out from Sunoo’s mind the fact that the man was butt-naked.
Sunoo offers his hand to the boy who takes it without hesitation.
Sunoo rummages the cabinets to find some clean fabric to cover up the man’s exposed body and a pair of slippers for him to use; the stranger—or his creation, rather— never lets go.
He guides the man covered in green fabric as he wears the spare sandals, crouching down to make sure the rubber goes between his big toe and second toe.
Groaning upon standing up, he lets go of the person’s hand before dusting his hands off and leaving the room, expecting the figure behind to follow him. He can’t wear that fabric as is, Sunoo thought. However, when he doesn’t hear the soft slap of the rubber slippers against the floor, he looks back and sees the man standing in the same spot.
“What are you doing? Come over here, silly,” he calls.
The boy immediately walks toward Sunoo and reaches for Sunoo’s hand. He notices the man’s eyes crinkle and the corners of his lips lift at the sight of their joined hands. Sunoo squeezes the boy’s slender digits out of pure adoration and guides him to his room.
The two arrive at Sunoo’s bedroom without a hitch, but Sunoo could definitely see the man slightly struggling with the foreign objects under his feet.
He hands him clean and unused underwear, a white sweater too big for Sunoo, and a pair of loose blue shorts, giving verbal instructions on how to put them on. Pushing the person in front of him into his bathroom, he recalls everything that had transpired so early in the morning.
The hangover. The coffee. Nothing out of the ordinary. Well, except for all the things that had happened after he visited their backroom. It was a flurry of confusion and chaos from that moment on. Sunoo reaches for the phone on his nightstand and opens his device’s browsing app.
what to do when your sculpture becomes alive?
what do sculptures eat?
can air-dry sculptures die when they get wet?
do i have powers?
am i god???
Dozens of tabs were simultaneously opened on his browser because there is nothing Reddit or Quora users cannot fix or answer. He types away in hopes of finding an article— a discussion post, anything at all —that will explain the bizarre happenings that have occurred within a span of an hour.
His frantic Googling is cut short when he hears a soft “Sunoo” emerge from the bathroom. He pushes himself off his bed, heads to the bathroom, and knocks on the door three times.
“You alright there?”
“Everything is fine, but I’m having a little bit of trouble with this garment,” the man from the other side of the door mumbles.
“I’m coming inside, okay?” Sunoo announces.
He chuckles at the sight in front of him. Oh, the guy was definitely struggling, alright. Fortunately, he had gotten the underwear and shorts perfectly. Nevertheless, Sunoo doesn’t understand how the guy managed to fit his head halfway through the sleeve of his sweater, but he did it apparently; his left arm, meanwhile, was out from the sweater’s neck opening, the lower half of his torso exposed.
What Sunoo should not be doing is blushing at the gorgeous being currently tangled in a white cotton piece of clothing. But how could Sunoo not? He crafted the very biceps that flexed under the white light of the bathroom, the subtle protrusion of the ribs whenever the man tries to untangle himself from the mess he made, and the firmness of his obliques. Good thing the man cannot see his ogling.
Sunoo shakes off the improper thoughts brewing inside his mind.
“Here, let me help you.” Sunoo starts by bringing back the man’s left arm inside the garment, gently guiding the limb back to the man’s sides. He tries not to stare too much out of courtesy and well, due to the risk of exposing his questionable attraction.
The trickiest part didn’t seem too hard to resolve after all considering how pliant the man was, listening obediently to Sunoo whenever he asks him to do something. In no more than two minutes, the man had gotten his head out of the suffocating sleeve.
And just to be sure, Sunoo helps him with the sleeves in fear of a gruesome accident occurring in his own bathroom. Deeming the sweater was now appropriately worn, he pats the boy’s shoulder, dusting off the imaginary dirt that had accumulated from the fabric tribulation a while ago.
“Alright. That’s better,” he chuckles at the person in front of him who doesn’t say a word, but instead gives him a soft, affectionate gaze and smiles.
Sunoo tries to ignore it and turns around, hiding the warmth creeping on his cheeks with his palms. “Let’s go.”
Suddenly, the man once again reaches for his hand, completely taking him aback. Sunoo looks over his shoulder and sees the person behind him sending him a toothy smile, canines sharp and prominent.
“Let’s go,” the man says as if he could only go places when Sunoo was beside him. It is him who leads Sunoo out of the bathroom, and Sunoo could only watch the bounce of glossy black hair in front of him as they leave the tiled room.
I definitely have to call Jungwon, he thinks.