Chapter Text
"And once again, it will be up to 28 degrees tomorrow. Clear skies and blazing hot sun in Busan, please protect yourself well from the UV rays..."
A large, brown pair of sunglasses on a small nose finds it hard to stay in place due to all the sweat, slowly slipping further down until they reveal the grim, dark eyes of the teenager. Nishimura Riki sighs loudly and sinks even deeper into the rickety garden chair.
In his opinion, this summer would be his bitter end.
"Sweetheart, did you put on sunscreen? How many times do I have to tell you to be careful when you lie in the sun like that?"
Two cold hands brush over Riki's forehead, through his sweat-sticky hair, and he closes his eyes. If he has nothing better to do than burn his skin, he at least doesn't want to be disturbed. His mother is surely on her way to an important appointment and has no time to care for her burning son, as she merely plants a wet, lipstick-smudged kiss on Riki's black hair parting.
"Please put on some sunscreen. You know your father and I won't be home tonight. Fix yourself something to eat, sweetheart."
This summer would be his bitter end, as it will surely be the most boring summer of his life. And today was the day he would begin counting down the days until school starts again.
And because he is more excited for school than for six weeks of summer vacation, his bitter end is assured in advance.
For if all your friends disappear for the entire, (supposedly planned together) time on super cool family trips and you can only wait in your lonely, eternal boredom for exciting postcards from the most exciting places, it can only be the bitter end.
Luckily, Riki knows where his parents store the wine.
Something tickles his bare leg. Riki strains to open one eye, then both. The gray, silver cat, purring loudly as it weaves around the sixteen-year-old's thin ankles, seems intent on interrupting Riki's melancholy, and perhaps it's for the best, as he finally hauls himself out of his much too crooked position, deciding to do something. His fingers scratch the soft fur of the elegant creature before he, groaning loudly, stretches his overly long limbs.
In the small fridge his parents hide in the garden house, there is always beer. And either they don't notice that almost every week a few cans go missing or they don't suspect their son, for Riki can still (secretly) help himself to his parents' alcohol stash at will.
With the ice-cold can in one hand, he grabs the clattering bike he once swiped from a tourist. Without a glance back at the 'disgustingly well-kept' garden, he swings onto the neon-yellow bike and wobbles down the 'disgustingly quiet' street.
The wind cools his overheated skin. Maybe he should have put on a shirt.
Every house here looks the same. Riki has always hated this about this place and now, right now, when everyone is just hiding from the sun under huge umbrellas, Riki wishes for nothing more than an adventurous change. Something forbidden. Something for his childish spirit.
Because who wants to grow up?
Only to then hide behind yellow-and-white-striped umbrellas?
The boy reaches the gray concrete building of his school. It's 'ugly' here. Especially when the sun shines on the cold and dry-looking walls, as if they might crumble to dust at any moment. And not only is the building ugly, but also all his experiences.
The only beautiful thing is the girl from 12th grade, but she doesn't notice Riki anyway.
But Riki is here for a reason.
He lets the bike crash carelessly onto the asphalt and strides with large, broad steps across the empty schoolyard. He is determined, takes a big gulp from his beer can, and finally stops in front of a trash can behind the school building. A broad, malicious grin on his face.
"Then without you guys, losers." On tiptoes, he leans over the opening of the bin, holds his breath, and almost completely disappears inside. He stretches his long arm to the bottom of the bin and fishes out a small plastic bag with an envelope inside.
He exhales the held breath with a cough and quickly distances himself from the stinking bin. Pressing the envelope to his bare chest.
A messy boyish handwriting has scribbled something on it and a few Hello Kitty and race car stickers adorn the visibly worn envelope.
With one pull, Riki empties the now not-so-cold beer and lets the can clatter into the bin.
"What do you have there?"
Startled, Riki lets out a strange cry as he whirls around. His face shows that he feels caught.
The surprise still grips him as he, with a racing heart, tries to hide the envelope in his overly large Adidas sports shorts. His gaze fixed on the person who dared to interrupt.
About four meters away, on a staircase of a back entrance, which is actually only meant for the kitchen staff, sits a boy. His legs bent and his head resting on his knees.
A boy like Riki has never seen before.
The first thing that catches Riki's eye is the ginger-red hair, which falls like silk around the white, pale face. And perhaps it is the genuinely uncanny beauty of this face that makes Riki's jaw drop, but already in the first moment Riki sets his eyes on the strange boy, he can hardly believe that this boy is real.
Hazel-brown eyes, which remind Riki of a fox, gaze large and faithfully through long lashes out of the perfectly shaped face. Rosy cheeks glow lively and full like two ripe apples and the heart-shaped, red lips are formed into a questioning, crooked smile.
Freckles sprinkle over his nose tip.
And as the strange boy receives no answer, he stands up lightly, surprisingly causing Riki to stumble. Reflexively, he steps back.
"Hey, I asked you what you have there." His voice is warm yet assertive.
Riki looks down at himself, at his bare chest and his black sports shorts, from whose waistband a corner of the envelope peeks out. His bare feet are in flip-flops.
He looks again into the brown fox eyes.
"Tobacco."
The boy laughs a bell-clear laugh. His apple cheeks become rounder and his fox eyes turn into crescents.
"Why are you laughing?" Riki doesn't understand him. By now, his body has also awakened from its shock and, head hanging, he shuffles past the boy to his bike.
And with the unfulfilled hope of ending their strange conversation with this unanswered question, he lifts the clattering bike but pauses as he hears steps behind him. Riki sighs.
"How old are you, kid, twelve?"
Riki sighs again.
"Sixteen."
"I already found your envelope," Riki had actually just intended to hop on his bike and get away from this strange boy as fast as he could.
"I opened it."
And Riki freezes. With one foot already on the pedal, he remains still in his position. His bare back to the boy, whose smile is audible in his warm voice.
Wasn't it supposed to be nearly 30 degrees today? For right now, Riki feels ice-cold.
The sudden goosebumps on his arms are also noticed by the boy behind him, for he laughs again. What's so funny about the whole situation, Riki can't quite grasp at the moment.
"Bastard."
The boy laughs even louder.
Anger overcomes Riki and with a jerk, he whirls around to the boy who is laughing himself to death. Riki is not in the mood to laugh.
Honestly, he feels more like crying, but he would rather die than admit it.
"You're a fucking bastard, you know that?"
His voice is not as firm as he had hoped.
"You are quite mean," he has stopped laughing, but still smiles broadly. "But don’t worry. I won't go to the police."
"And how am I supposed to know you're not lying?" Riki grips his bike seat tightly. His palms are sweating. Yet he's still shivering.
His gaze wanders again over the appearance of the eerie boy.
His clothing confuses Riki even more.
Riki thinks he looks like he just played tennis or something because he's conspicuously dressed in athletic clothes. And quite white, Riki notices.
He's wearing a lemon-yellow polo shirt and underneath, much too short white sports shorts.
His thin ankle's in white long socks (although quite asymmetrically slipped down) in white sneakers. Colorful band-aids are stuck on his rosy knees.
Somehow, he looks both rich and poor at the same time.
"That's a good question." The boy seems to ponder himself. "I could swear it to you? But that still wouldn't be anything concrete..."
Riki is slowly growing impatient. Again, he looks down at himself, at the part of the envelope peeking out from his shorts. Thoughtfully, he bites his lower lip.
The boy is still thoughtfully listing ways he could swear his loyalty to Riki, while rocking back and forth on his feet. It seems to amuse him.
At least more than it should, Riki thinks.
"Who are you, anyway?" Riki interrupts the unending chatter. The boy falls silent, tilts his head slightly, and looks at Riki again with those fox eyes.
And somehow, it suddenly feels strange and wrong to look into those beautiful eyes for too long, so he lets his gaze wander aimlessly. The boy smiles.
"Kim Sunoo."
Riki waits for him to continue talking, to maybe introduce himself a bit more, but he doesn't, making the silence awkward. With a questioning look, he searches for Sunoo's eyes again, but this time it is Sunoo who has averted his gaze.
At first, Riki feels a brief moment of worry for the boy's good mood, even though he can't see any reason for it.
But then, a broad, cheeky grin suddenly spreads across the pretty face, making Riki roll his eyes in both annoyance and a bit of relief.
"I won't go to the police if you-" Sunoo makes an unnecessary pause, in Riki's opinion, and suddenly begins to dance toward him in a strange way. His fox-like eyes start to gleam eerily, as if he were unwrapping a huge birthday present, and all at once, he's standing much closer to Riki than Riki would prefer.
"-If you take me with you so we can hang out together."
Sunoo is quite a bit shorter than Riki. Sunoo has gotten so close that Riki has to look down a little to maintain the intense eye contact with the small fox boy.
For a while, the chirping of birds is the only sound filling the sudden silence, until Riki suddenly realizes what Sunoo has just said.
"No."
"Oh, come on. As if you'd rather pay a fine and spend your vacation in juvenile detention."
"Alright, fine!"
Sunoo smiles so widely that Riki fears his mouth might tear. Without giving the grinning face another glance, Riki turns around, swings onto his bike, and slowly clatters down the empty street.
He makes sure to ride slowly enough so that Sunoo can jog alongside him.
Because when he thinks about it twice, the deal isn't really that bad.
Maybe it's meant to be this way.
Maybe his vacation is now either doomed be his bitter end or actually saved.
Even if his company now may not be his preferred choice of company.
But maybe this Sunoo isn't as boring as he first seemed, Riki thinks as he watches the happily bouncing orange-red head.
"Where are we going?" Sunoo calls out, a bit out of breath, as Riki mischievously picks up the pace.
"To my place. Where else."
_
The following days drag on like a old chewing gum.
The voice from the small radio seems to incessantly report new high-temperature records, and even the pop music playing cannot brighten the scorching heat. A tired teenage arm aimlessly reaches for the crackling device and switches stations at random.
With heavy eyelids, Riki looks over the rim of his sunglasses into his garden. Dry grass crackles with every step, and the loud chirping of crickets is almost deafening. Well, maybe not necessarily, but every prolonged occurrence in this monotonous environment irritates the hella bored boy.
Just as he closes his eyes again to remain in his role as a (bored-to-death) corpse, the dull sound of the shrill doorbell echoes into the garden.
Maybe it's the mail.
"Riki, honey, Sunoo is here to pick you up."
Immediately, Riki's eyes snap open. He sits bolt upright in the rickety garden chair under the dried-out birch tree, hastily pushing his sweaty, stringy hair back with his sunglasses as puts it up on his head.
It's been three days since he met the strange red-haired boy behind the school.
And for Rikis luck it had turned out that Sunoo was an incredibly good conversationalist.
And although Riki wouldn't admit it, Sunoo's company was the most pleasant he'd had in a long time.
Riki had brought him to his garden. His parents weren't home anyway, and he fairly didn't want to introduce the stranger to his (very) secret meeting spots of him and his gang just yet.
They talked all evening until the blazing sun set. They sat together in the dry grass of the freshly mowed lawn, the heat beating down on their heads. Riki had fetched them a beer from the hidden fridge, but Sunoo had declined with a wide smile.
Sunoo had very interesting perspectives, Riki soon realized, because when their (initially polite) conversation lost its thread and they began to passionately rant about teachers, employers, and rules, mumbling the wildest insults, Riki suddenly heard a few sentences leave the handsome mouth that he wouldn't forget anytime soon.
"Believe me, kid, once I get out of here, I'll make them feel everything they made me feel," he had said. His apple-red cheeks glowed, and his mouth was so wide that Riki thought it might soon touch his ears.
He had wanted to laugh about it, but the lack of humor in Sunoo's voice only made him shudder and nod.
Riki knew he probably should have asked what they had made Sunoo feel, but he didn't dare.
He had just finished his beer and then let himself fall into the grass, and Sunoo had done the same, and it felt good. So he didn't ask later either, because the handsome boy in the lemon-yellow polo shirt and the too-short white shorts smiled far too contentedly as he hummed with closed eyes into the cloudless sky. His orange-red hair flowed like silk in the dry, freshly mowed grass.
"Riki, honey, don't keep the boy waiting. And put something on, for heaven's sake."
The lanky body of the overheated teenager drags itself into the cool apartment. From a kitchen chair, he grabs an oversized t-shirt with a faded print of a band he doesn't know and clumsily pulls it over his head. Barefoot, he pads into the hallway, where the small redhead stands smiling broadly in the doorway, chatting warmly with Riki's mother. Riki knew his mother would like the handsome, polite boy. Sunoo is exactly the type of son she always envisioned Riki to be. Or maybe she still hopes he will become, because,as she always says- sixteen is not eighteen yet.
But Riki knows he will never be like Sunoo. And he doesn't want to be.
His mother stops talking to Sunoo, turns to her tall son, and wipes away the poorly applied sunscreen under his tired eyes with her cool, soft fingers before planting a lipstick-stained kiss on his temple. Riki knows she sometimes wishes he didn't look the way he does.
Since they left Japan, since Riki's sisters moved out to attend elite schools in Beijing and Seoul, Riki has not been the same. And his mother knows that she can only support his difficult development at his difficult age with love, time, and space. And for that, Riki loves her.
He also bends down to give his mother a rushed kiss on her smooth, pale cheek. Then he slips into his sneakers, puts on his sunglasses, and beckons the (far too broadly grinning) redhead to follow with a nod of his head.
"Where are we going?"
Riki heads straight through the back door to the garden shed, grabs a can of beer and the rickety bicycle. He laughs when he sees Sunoo's face. He probably expects to have to run after Riki again.
"There's another bike. It belongs to my mother. Just take it." Riki gestures with his thumb over his shoulder into the garden shed, and to his surprise, Sunoo just nods and does as he is told.
Together, they pedal along the narrow streets. Rows of white houses seem to stretch endlessly before them, and once again, Riki wonders how anyone can avoid confusing their own house with one of the other identical ones.
The air above the street shimmers ominously.
Riki doesn't respond to Sunoo's impatient questions. Sunoo probably fears that Riki plans to lead him into a secluded forest to silence him once and for all and bury his body somewhere. But in reality, he has no such intentions.
While his motive might be understandable, it would also be to his own detriment (he would not only incriminate himself further but also lose his only company).
Besides, Riki thinks, murder isn't cool.
Finally, they leave the depressive little town behind. On either side of the narrowing path, fields stretch out for miles.
There's a familiar scent of poppies in the air.
Riki used to ride this route every day after school with Jungwon. Every day they would jump, sweaty and smelly, into the small lake. Stark naked, they swam in the ice-cold water, dunked each other underwater, and secretly watched the girls. And when it got dark, they smoked in secret, and at night they ran, across the fields.
Screaming on top of their young lungs.
Screaming from the top of their tiny world.
With a loud clatter, Riki lets his bike fall into the tall grass as he bravely (and somewhat recklessly) jumps off the saddle. Without looking back at the lagging Sunoo, he stomps through the underbrush that grows wild and unkempt by the roadside. Thick branches and thorny vines block every view, but Riki knows this terrain like the back of his hand. It doesn't take long for him to find a small gap through which a slender person can certainly squeeze.
"Hey! Where the hell are we going?" Sunoo's voice calls plaintively from nearby, and a glance over his shoulder shows Riki that Sunoo is trying to free himself from a blackberry bush.
"Not far now," Riki calls back. A familiar warmth swells in his chest as he squeezes his (now much larger) body through the hedge and finally, finally, catches sight of the forbidden, magical glitter of the water.
Hastily, he kicks off his annoying sneakers, finally lets his feet breathe, and spreads his hot toes in the shady, green grass.
This is where Riki belongs. Not at school, not in his parched garden, but right here.
Tall, rustling trees stretch into the blue sky. Long branches still extend far over the lake, from which Riki has dived into the glittering, crystal-clear water since he was a little boy. Tall reeds rustle in the light breeze, and it smells of untouched nature.
For now, Riki just wants to inhale that smell like it could be the last time he could ever smell it again.
A scratching and cracking sound pulls Riki out of his reverie. A red-haired head appears in the underbrush. Covered in burrs and thorns, Sunoo stumbles onto the clearing, opens his mouth, and then closes it immediately as he blinks.
Riki expected to hear a heated lecture, but it seems he doesn't need to convince the boy of his destination anymore. Sunoo looks around silently, his eyes wide and bright.
Sunoo is utterly quiet, and so is Riki.
After a while, Riki turns his gaze away from the stunned Sunoo, grins, and strolls leisurely to the shore. With a relaxed sigh, he sits down and stretches his sore feet into the ice-cold water.
"Feel honored. I'm only bringing you here because I don't want to spend all six weeks alone here."
Riki gazes quietly at the shimmering surface of the water. The sun's reflection is so bright that it blinds him, so he slides his large, brown sunglasses onto his nose. Without taking his feet out of the water, he leans back, sinks into the tall grass, and closes his eyes. If he is destined for hell, at least he has had the chance to experience paradise in his lifetime, he thinks. Grinning as he chews on a blade of grass.
Soft footsteps in the fresh green reach his ears, and soon he senses a fragrant presence beside him. Peeking out from under his sunglasses, he sees Sunoo, who has sat down next to him and is poking at the water with a small stick.
Riki has already noticed that Sunoo always smells good. Not like cheap perfume or other soaps. He simply smells like flowers.
As if his natural body scent were that of a wildflower.
But Riki has also noticed that Sunoo has been unusually quiet since they arrived at the clearing.
"Since when have you been playing tennis?"
"Since I was eight."
Sunoo always answers very briefly, almost curtly, whenever Riki asks him about himself and his existence. That's why Riki knows almost nothing about the strange redhead. To be honest, he only knows his name. He doesn't even know how old he is, where he lives, or if he's even from here. And Riki has so many questions, but he knows from many futile attempts to pry something out of the boy that he has to be clever about it.
"I'd like to see you play sometime. Do you play in the hall at the sports center?"
Sunoo nods.
"But aren't only club members allowed to train in the hall? I once wanted to play volleyball there with my friends, but the lady at the reception wouldn't let us in because we weren't club members." Riki grumbles a bit indignantly at the memory. The fact that Sunoo has the money for a club membership impresses him, though it doesn't necessarily surprise him.
"Well," Sunoo suddenly stirs the water a bit more aggressively. "My father owns the hall."
"What?" Suddenly, Riki is all ears, peeking skeptically over his sunglasses. "That's really cool!" He hadn't expected that, and Sunoo, who just shrugs nonchalantly, glances down at Riki, smiles slightly, and the next moment, he too is lying on his back. His hands rest on his stomach, rising and falling with each deep breath.
Riki's eyes wander curiously over the boy's figure, hidden and surrounded by the tall grass. His thin, snow-white legs, which he has so cutely bent.
The small scratches on his milky skin (probably from his tussle with the blackberry bush).
The braided bracelet on his wrist, with a small charm in the shape of a sun dangling from it.
Sun.
Sunoo.
"I stole a car a few weeks ago. I plan to drive it to the sea and then back."
Riki waits for Sunoo's first reaction. Actually, it hadn't been Riki's plan to tell Sunoo about his idea. And especially not about the car he and Jungwon found a few weeks ago. But to his surprise, Sunoo just smiles at him through the grass. His glowing, rosy cheeks seem to shine in the sun.
"I've never been to the sea." Sunoo murmurs so quietly it's as if he fears someone might overhear them. His eyes seem to sparkle brighter with each passing second.
"Neither have I. It's a shame, I'd really like to just do it." Riki looks back up at the sky, following a butterfly with his eyes when Sunoo surprises him again.
"I have a driver's license."
"What?" Riki is wide awake, his body shooting upright. His heart pounds harder and faster than usual as he stares at the boy. Sunoo has his eyes closed but is smiling broadly as always.
"How old are you?" Riki can hardly believe it.
Is Sunoo lying? Because if Riki understands the situation correctly, Sunoo not only thinks his idea of driving a stolen car to the sea is good but is actually offering to go with him.
"Eighteen. What did you think? Twelve?" Sunoo laughs a cheerful, bell-like laugh that reveals a row of straight, white teeth. And maybe it's the wonderful fact that Sunoo has a driver's license, or the sunbeams casting a dancing pattern on his skin through the tall grass, but right now, Riki is certain that Sunoo is by far the most beautiful boy he knows.
And Riki will never confess it to Sunoo, whether out of stubbornness or shame, but in his personal opinion, Sunoo possesses the kind of beauty men would go to war for. When the mere thought of a pale face with vibrant cheeks, hazel eyes, red hair, and freckles gives one the feeling of being longingly loved by something so wonderful and beautiful. A tender beauty that forgives everything and awaits with loving arms, and kisses, if only one would lay in its warm embrace.
No, Riki would tell no one about these thoughts.
"No, I just had no idea," Riki says, trying to sound casual. Since he can’t relax anymore, he awkwardly hoists himself up and wades slowly through the knee-high water. He had actually hoped to go swimming with Sunoo today. The weather is perfect. But right now, he doesn’t feel that Sunoo would enjoy it much if he suddenly stripped naked and jumped loudly from the trees into the water. "You don't tell me anything about yourself."
"There's just nothing to tell about me..."
"Oh, nonsense. Stop with that kind of bullshit. If you want to hang out with me, I need to get to know you. I don't tolerate any characterless bastards in my circle of friends." To lighten the mood, he splashes water at the still, lying figure of the boy.
Sunoo flinches as the cold water hits him, but he doesn't complain. Instead, he sits up slowly, wiping the droplets off his face, and looks at Riki with an amused glint in his eyes. "You really think I'm characterless?"
Riki shrugs, grinning mischievously. "I don’t know, you're too secretive. It's like you've got this whole mysterious aura around you."
Sunoo chuckles softly, shaking his head. "Maybe I do.But I don’t like it a lot. It’s just… I just don't like talking about myself."
"Oh, I see," Riki says, unsure of how to respond. So, he simply doesn't.
He had wanted to ask Sunoo some easy questions, like "What's your favorite color or your favorite food?" but at the moment, he senses that Sunoo's icy exterior is too thick and needs more time and effort to break through.
Apparently, his non-response was the right choice because Sunoo smiles at him, relieved, and nods as if to say thank you. Riki gives a crooked smile back, his heart inexplicably loud again. With a loud splash, he steps out of the lake.
“Do you want to see the car? It’s not far from here.” Suddenly, Riki feels an urge to do something—whether to break the awkward atmosphere or seize the newfound opportunity to actually take off in his car.
Brown eyes blink up at Riki, slightly dazzled by the sunlight filtering through long lashes. “Okay.”
With a broad grin, Riki extends his hand to the boy still lounging in the tall grass. It doesn’t feel strange when Sunoo places his soft, warm hand in Riki’s. After all, they know each other.
With a tug, the smaller tennis player is back on his feet, his face so close to Riki’s that he can count the freckles on Sunoo’s pale nose. Yet, they don’t know each other that well.
Riki frowns, wanting to let go of Sunoo’s hand because suddenly it does feel strange. Especially because his own hand is much rougher, stickier, and dirtier than Sunoo’s. Sunoo’s hands are even softer than his mother’s. And he plays tennis.
“Hold still,” the redhead seems to have noticed something in Riki’s face at this proximity. “There’s a bug in your hair.” As if it weren’t enough, as if Sunoo weren’t already close enough, he stands on his tiptoes and calmly runs his fingers through Riki’s jet-black hair.
Riki is blushing furiously. He’s certain of it.
Riki never blushes.
As soon as Sunoo lets go of him, Riki wastes no time and marches through the tall grass to retrieve his carelessly discarded sneakers. The red-haired tennis player whistles a cheerful tune.
“Can you hurry up?”
Riki is already by their bikes, glancing at the sun sinking lower in the sky, smiling inwardly with confidence. This summer might not be his best, but it certainly won’t end on a bitter note.
And even though Sunoo is such a different boy, so different from Jungwon or any of his friends, Riki knows it’s going to be good.
Sunoo appears with a moonflower tucked behind his ear. His white sports shorts have a faint green stain on the seat, and his polo shirt is slightly askew. His shoes are far from white, and Riki wonders if Sunoo will get into trouble later. But Sunoo seems either unaware or indifferent, whistling merrily as he mounts Riki’s mother’s pink Dutch bike.
And Sunoo doesn’t stop quietly singing to himself as they pedal with renewed vigor. Their bikes rattle softly over the bumpy path, heading deeper into an increasingly dense forest. Cool shadows fall over the warm skin of the two boys. However, Sunoo rides at a nerve-wrackingly slow pace, his voice barely audible, and Riki continually glances over his shoulder to check on the dreamy redhead.
It doesn’t take long—they ride for just a few minutes through the thickening underbrush before Riki recognizes the familiar wooden hut. It’s an old barn where the farmer from the nearby fields stores his firewood in winter. In summer, however, it always stands empty. Jungwon and Riki used to meet there often after swimming when they were kids. They would spend hours telling each other ghost stories and getting scared by the tiniest noises.
Jungwon is such an important and formative person in his life that Riki sometimes wonders what would have become of him in this deathly boring place without him.
Jungwon was the only one who saw him in his darkest time and befriended him. Riki not only couldn’t speak a word of Korean when he was placed in a fourth-grade class full of established friend groups, but he also had no sister and no friends. The little Japanese boy felt like an alien, constantly followed by curious, silent glances. His mother worked from dawn till dusk; she never noticed how broken her little son really was. She didn’t know he didn’t come home from friends’ houses late at night but played alone in the woods.
The hatred he felt for his new situation, the lonely boy channeled into stealing.
It all started when he saw a capsule in a gumball machine beside the supermarket, containing a tiny race car with the Japanese flag on it. It even glowed in the dark if you left it in the sun. Surely it was the overwhelming longing and the pain of homesickness that took hold of the little boy’s body, but from that day on, he passed by the gumball machine every day to see if the capsule with the race car was still there. The need to one day get that capsule turned into an obsession.
The fear that someone else would use the gumball machine and get his race car kept Riki awake at night.
If only he had the coins.
Sometimes, when he felt like it, Riki skipped class and wandered the school hallways secretly. It was during one of these times that the nine-year-old Riki quietly observed an older student rummaging through all the other kids' jackets. That was when Riki first learned how to steal.
Riki first stole coins from other jackets. Then he stole chains and bracelets he liked. Then he started stealing from shops.
Eventually, he broke open the gumball machine, hid the Japanese car under his pillow, and sold the rest of the race cars in the schoolyard.
That’s how he met Jungwon.
“Do you know what else you could sell?” Jungwon had asked when the blue-and-yellow toy passed from one child's hand to another. Riki understood him, but speaking was difficult, so he just shook his small head. The students at his school rarely spoke to him.
Jungwon was a grade above him, and if Riki remembered correctly, he had never really seen Jungwon belong to any clique either.
“I know how to do real business. I’m in the scene,” Jungwon had said. And though neither of them fully knew what that meant, it sounded cool.
“And? Where’s the car now?” Sunoo had caught up with him and was standing with his hands on his hips, skeptically eyeing the dilapidated wooden hut. “In there?”
Riki nodded and pulled a hairpin from the waistband of his pants, using it deftly to unlock the rusty padlock. The thick chain holding the doors together fell with a clatter into the soft moss at their feet, and with a loud creak, Riki pushed the heavy doors open.
Light streamed into the dark interior of the shed. At first, they could only make out shovels, pitchforks covered in cobwebs, and dust swirling through the sunbeams.
“Under there,” Riki pointed to a large tarp concealing something big.
Perhaps Riki should have warned Sunoo and advised him to cover his nose with his shirt, because when he yanked the dusty plastic tarp off the hidden car, an immense cloud of dust and hay billowed up. Sunoo seemed to inhale quite a bit of it, as the next moment, Riki heard nothing but frantic coughing and choking.
“Really, Riki? A-...” Sunoo spat on the ground, trying to clear his throat. “A Mercedes? Did it really have to be a Mercedes?” But Sunoo, whose face had turned nearly as red as his hair from the coughing fit, laughed. Apparently, he liked it.
With a proud, wide grin, Riki leaned against the silver-glinting vintage car as if it were his own. His boyish demeanor, oversized clothes, and dirty sneakers contrasted with the sleek elegance of the car. He shook his black, straggly hair out of his eyes and allowed himself to wink playfully at the redhead.
Sunoo rolled his eyes and approached the silver Mercedes emblem cautiously. His finger gently traced it, then wandered over the hood. “How did you manage this, kid? Do you even have a car key?”
In response, Riki simply held up a small key ring and tossed it to Sunoo.
“It wasn’t hard. Really, it’s actually so easy to take from rich people what they can easily replace.” Sunoo still looked a bit skeptical but seemed to be listening intently. The heavy key ring jingled in his fingers, and his gaze fell on the small business card attached to the car key.
“The guy was totally wasted drunk. He was so busy trying not to piss himself that he didn’t notice the whole operation. But seriously, who leaves their fucking Mercedes with the key in the ignition and the door wide open on a country road in the middle of the night?”
Sunoo laughed derisively and shook his red head.
“Well, I mean, if someone doesn’t appreciate their car, they don’t deserve such a beauty anyway.” Emotionally touched by the tragic fate of the vintage car, Riki gazed longingly at the reflective hood and pressed a grimy kiss on the lacquer. Sunoo gagged softly.
“But… aren’t you afraid?”
“No. Are you afraid?”
Sunoo shook his head. "That's not what I mean. I mean, aren't you afraid of me?"
Riki hadn't expected that. Yet, Sunoo wasn't entirely wrong. Riki was indeed a bit concerned about Sunoo.
Not because he feared being kidnapped, tortured, or dismembered. Sunoo was certainly a bit odd, but not dangerous.
No, Sunoo was a good guy.
Perhaps, however, he was a little too good. A bit too well-behaved and sheltered to handle the wild beast within Riki's teenage body.
Sunoo hadn't mentioned much about his family's status, aside from the sudden fact that his father owned the city's large, modern sports complex. But that might have been telling enough, as Riki had a strong suspicion that Sunoo was filthy rich. Richer than Riki was comfortable with.
Because now, Sunoo knew Riki's life. He knew his shabby home and his shabby existence funded by his shabby drug habit, which he could afford by dealing even shabbier drugs. The shabby money in his wallet was either stolen or earned through illegal means. But he wasn't ashamed.
"I'm worried." Worried that Sunoo might be too soft for the harsh world out there.
Sunoo nodded thoughtfully. He seemed to be thinking the same thing. "You don't have to go with me, you know? I- I can totally understand if you'd rather go with this Jungwon—"
With a theatrical groan, Riki silenced the redhead. Why was he suddenly so, so insecure? Didn't he understand?
"But Jungwon isn't here! And right now, there's no one here for me but you! So don't be a fucking coward like everyone else in this stupid town and drive with me to the fucking sea!"
Riki's cheeks were flushed with anger. His eyes, wide with agitation, stared at the boy across the car. A quiet gulp was heard, and with a smile on his lips that seemed almost relieved, Sunoo nodded hastily.
"Okay, I'll do it."
Riki couldn't quite tell if Sunoo was genuinely uncertain or if he just wanted to hear once more that Riki truly wanted him along. For the rest of the day, Sunoo's enormous grin didn't leave his face. This redhead was odd.
But Riki wouldn’t blame him. He was just as excited.
_
Their trip planning took a full two days.
On the first day, they lay in Riki's garden with cola, beer, and sunhats (courtesy of Riki's mother), and wrote down everything they needed to bring to be prepared for any situation.
A thick rope
Two knives
Apples (general provisions)
A crate of beer
A lighter
Warm sweaters
Sunscreen
Mosquito repellent
A hose
A camera
Possibly Mom's Nokia
My weed
A baseball bat
"Why do we need a baseball bat?" Sunoo asked with a suppressed chuckle, glancing at the barely legible list.
Riki, with a mischievous glint in his eye, leaned back and stretched his arms behind his head. "You never know what kind of situations we'll run into. It's always good to have a weapon handy."
Sunoo shook his head, still laughing. "It’s not like in the movies, you know that."
Riki couldn’t care less. His gaze wandered once more over Sunoo, because who could ever get enough of Sunoo’s looks? He blamed the beer and the scorching heat for his dazed state, as his eyes lingered a bit too long on the exposed skin beneath Sunoo’s buttocks. Why did he always have to wear those short tennis shorts? Was that really the men's training attire?
The boy, whose red hair was completely swallowed by the large white sunhat, lay on his stomach, his long, bare legs dangling lazily. With Riki's pen, he absentmindedly doodled on the list—a car with two smiling stick figures, to be precise. At the moment, it wasn’t interesting enough to divert the teenager's forbidden glances from the shape of his body.
And what Riki felt now confused him. Riki had had ample opportunity to acquaint himself with a woman’s body early on. He had his first sexual experience at fifteen; he knew what arousal felt like. He might be young and foolish, he might not understand many things, but if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that he found Sunoo attractive.
"I hope my knight protects me well enough," Sunoo’s voice chirped softly from under the sunhat. Giggling sheepishly over his own joking.
Riki leaned on his elbows in the dusty dry grass and took a large gulp from his can. His eyes slid down his own body. He often caught himself comparing himself to Sunoo. He didn’t like it because in every aspect he fell short, but on the other hand, he was starting to find their contrasts quite intriguing.
Sunoo wasn’t short. He had an elegant height that didn’t make him look weak. Nevertheless, Riki had experienced a significant growth spurt over the past three years. Puberty in its peak made him think and act awkwardly and impulsively, which didn’t exactly add elegance to his long, thin body. But Riki didn’t care. He used his body a lot to cope with his new size. Every day he roamed the outdoors, doing a lot of sports with Jungwon.
That’s why he was stronger than he looked.
Riki rarely bothered to wear a shirt. His skin was sun-kissed and golden, the silver chain around his strong, long neck gleaming expensively (it wasn’t his). Sweatbands on his wrists and oversized pants were his trademark. No one in town knew the Japanese daredevil any differently.
What could he say about Sunoo? Did anyone even know him? Riki still didn’t know where the pretty boy lived neither does he remember to have ever seen sunoo around the streets or schools.
It wouldn’t surprise him if he lived in a castle.
"Of course, princess."
Sunoo giggled and wiggled his hips, more or less intentionally. His waist was so slender that Riki suddenly wondered if he could lift Sunoo up. And before the thought could slip away like his other fleeting, foolish ideas, he pressed his beer into the grass and stood up.
Rough hands found a firm grip on the thin torso in the (today) baby blue polo shirt. Immediately, the warm body curved in Riki’s grasp, and Sunoo let out a surprised cry, high and clear.
The ease with which he lifted the older boy off the ground surprised him. He could have easily thrown Sunoo over his shoulder, but the boy's squirming prevented Riki from playing any more pranks on him. Sunoo laughed, clutching his sides where Riki had grabbed him.
"Well, I’m too heavy."
Riki frowned. "You’re way too light."
Sunoo shrugged, his smile switching off as if a switch had been flipped. He hastily drank from his cola and brushed the dry grass off his chest.
Riki wanted to say something. Anything. But he didn’t know what, because he didn’t understand when the mood had suddenly shifted. Had he touched him wrong? Were they not at that level of friendship yet? Had he grabbed him too hard? Did Sunoo think he was too heavy for Riki?
Did he think Riki was weak?
Indignant and ready to prove his strength, Riki opened his mouth, but Sunoo suddenly glanced hurriedly at his wristwatch (one of those watches Riki would love to swipe) and murmured something about his parents and that he had to be home by six.
It was only five, but Riki let him go.
_
Sunoo was still unusually quiet the next morning. They had only made a few more errands to ensure they had enough provisions. Riki admired how hard he tried to hide it, but his mood was different than usual.
That’s why it gnawed at Riki all the more painfully as he waited by the rickety old hut at six in the morning, as agreed, hoping to see a red head emerge from the dark underbrush. He had wanted to pick up the older boy so they could walk through the forest together, but Sunoo insisted it would be safer if they went to the starting point separately.
The thought that Sunoo might have backed out brought Riki close to tears. He kept checking his watch; the hand was moving too fast for his liking. Why was it already half-past six?
The sun was starting to filter through the treetops, and more and more birds began to chirp cheerfully.
Much too cheerfully, considering Sunoo wasn’t there.
“Fuck you, Kim Sunoo,” Riki muttered angrily, kicking the hut’s rotten wood. “Why do you have to be such a coward?”
A soft crackle and a familiar, clear laugh made him pause. He grinned broadly before spinning around. A snow-white face framed by fox-red hair beamed at him amusedly. Surely, Sunoo had just heard Riki's desperate rant, but that didn’t matter as much as the fact that Sunoo was standing there, cheerful and carrying a large travel bag.
“I overslept, drama queen.”
Riki wanted nothing more than to hug the stupid boy so tightly that it would rob him of the air needed for his dumb chatter. Instead, he shoved his middle finger under Sunoo's nose and, muttering quiet insults, opened the shed.
His heart was racing.
This excitement was greater than he imagined it would be before a roller coaster ride. What they were about to do would not only fulfill all his childhood dreams but surely also be the craziest thing he had ever done in his young life.
Sunoo, on the other hand, seemed completely calm. To Riki’s surprise.
It was the first time he saw the older boy out of his tennis outfit. Loose jogging pants and a light shirt, the top three buttons casually undone. Round sunglasses were perched in his fiery hair, and small stones glittered at his ears. Kim Sunoo's personal style.
To be honest Riki wanted to make a snide remark about Sunoo’s sudden change of attire but held back. Right now, he didn’t want to risk dampening his own good mood.
With a casual swing, he settled into the passenger seat and handed Sunoo the car keys. Sunoo buckled up and let his hands enjoy the feel of the leather steering wheel, checking all the mirrors.
Sunoo looked grown-up.
Sunoo looked hot.
“Alright, kid. Listen up,” Sunoo turned to the gawking boy. “When I start driving, I need to concentrate. That means no distractions, no touching, and no conspicuous behavior. I may have a driver’s license, but that doesn’t change the fact that this car is stolen. And knowing you, we probably have illegal substances in the luggage, don’t we?”
A crooked grin spread across Riki’s face, giving him away.
Sunoo sighed heavily but said nothing more on the matter. He raised an eyebrow at the childish boy. “Understood?”
“Yes sir!” With the silly salute, Sunoo was satisfied and leaned back into the leather seat. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes briefly, pressed the back of his head against the headrest, and started the engine.
The warm vibrations made both boys shudder. And as he shifted into first gear and the packed car slowly rolled into the morning sunlight, Riki clenched his hands into excited fists.
_