Chapter Text
"Chrome Hearts? When did you buy that?"
Even in the dim lighting of the bar, Martin managed to notice it. Kim Juhoon glanced down at the necklace around his neck and smiled.
"My dad gave it to me as a birthday present," he replied naturally, taking a sip of the drink beside him. He wasn't exactly lying. "I just hadn't worn it before."
"It suits you. It'd be a waste to let it gather dust." Martin laughed too and lightly punched him on the shoulder.
Juhoon didn't answer. Instead, he changed the subject, asking about the music Martin had been working on recently.
As expected, the moment music came up, Martin launched into an enthusiastic monologue, completely immersed in his own world and forgetting all about the little piece of jewelry around Juhoon's neck.
Juhoon listened absentmindedly, nodding from time to time. His gaze drifted to the ring on Martin's middle finger. The tiny diamond caught the colorful lights, glimmering faintly, yet somehow seemed capable of pulling one's eyes into it.
That was the real birthday gift from "Daddy."
-
The first time Kim Juhoon laid eyes on Ahn Keonho, he had a gut feeling.
Keonho carried the unmistakable air of someone born into wealth. It was there in the expensive cologne he wore, the designer sneakers on his feet, even the effortless poise with which he talked and laughed. To Juhoon, he was like a freshly laid-out slab of meat before a starving man, silently inviting him closer.
Juhoon had never been particularly good at socializing—by any measure. Nor did his pale skin and slight build make him stand out under conventional standards of attractiveness. He simply wasn't the sort of person who naturally drew attention. The days when he never had to tailor his words to please others or quicken his speech to keep conversations going came to an abrupt end one day during the second semester of his freshman year, one of the many consequences of his father's company going bankrupt, his parents' divorce, and his mother's worsening mental illness.
The less money he had, the more he found himself talking.
For the sake of money, he had naturally chosen to major in business. But the hereditary aristocracy of wealth surrounding him quickly forced him to confront reality: no matter how hard he worked, he would most likely spend the rest of his life serving people like them, polishing their shoes, figuratively speaking. Had he never been one of them himself—had he never known what that glamorous life looked like—perhaps he could have accepted it. But that wasn't the case. The more he dwelled on it, the more he wondered why the pony and yacht that had once been his had abandoned him overnight.
Before everything fell apart, he had never imagined wanting to study law. Now, pursuing an expensive Juris Doctor (JD) degree was even more of a pipe dream. Yet by the time he reached his final year of university, the urge had become almost impossible to suppress.
He was confident he could maintain an excellent GPA while earning an outstanding score on the LSAT. But that alone meant nothing. Even if he gained admission and secured a scholarship, the remaining expenses would still be beyond his reach. His best option was to attend a less prestigious, more affordable law school. Rationally, he knew that was the optimal solution.
Yet every so often, lying awake alone in the middle of the night, imagining the degree that should have been his, he felt as though tiny insects were slowly gnawing at his heart. It wasn't exactly painful, but it left him unbearably restless.
He needed a sponsor outside his family. A philanthropist. Or perhaps a businessman willing to invest in him ahead of time.
So he began attending every social gathering he could, wearing practiced smiles and slipping compliments naturally into conversation. Fortunately, he had already rehearsed this role countless times throughout his years on campus. The pride he should have abandoned long ago still ached from time to time, but he needed more events like these if only to escape the emptiness and confusion that descended whenever another evening ended with nothing to show for it.
By Juhoon's criteria, Ahn Keonho wasn't initially a particularly promising candidate.
Thirty-two years old. A retired national swimmer. Wealthy, certainly, but probably with little interest in someone's academic ambitions.
Juhoon followed sports, but he had never been fond of the athletic stars on campus. That was a world he could never belong to. He had heard rumors that Keonho's father had recently become embroiled in legal disputes after a violent altercation broke out within a sports team his company had acquired. Juhoon had paid some attention to the growing value of sports-related assets and had even considered that industry as a possible career path. Still, gossip like that wasn't especially useful. At the very least, it wouldn't help him in conversation with Ahn Keonho.
So Keonho was quietly placed on the back burner.
That was why Juhoon was slightly surprised when Keonho approached him first.
Just looking at Keonho's face, one could imagine a life in which everything came easily. Add to that his enviable family background and his success as a swimmer, and the picture was complete. Juhoon thought of the athletic stars at his own university: always the center of attention, with endless parties and endless lovers. It was as though the whole world stepped aside for people like them. Juhoon had once been among those making way, standing on the sidelines as they enjoyed heaven's miserly blessings, until that same favor was snatched away from him without warning.
"Have you been here before? I don't think I've seen you around."
There wasn't a hint of arrogance about Ahn Keonho. Especially when he smiled, he came across as remarkably approachable.
"No." Juhoon nodded. He glanced off to one side, then turned back to find Keonho still looking at him. "Jeff invited me. Do you know him?"
"Yeah, I do." The smile at the corner of his mouth was nothing short of charming, so captivating it was difficult to focus on anything else. "I'm Ahn Keonho."
Juhoon reached out and shook his hand lightly.
Keonho's hand was larger than his own, rough with calluses from years of training. It felt slightly damp, probably from the summer heat. Juhoon was something of a germaphobe, and when he withdrew his hand, he had to resist the urge to discreetly wipe his palm against his trousers.
He barely remembered what they talked about afterward. Nothing important—where he went to school, what he planned to do after graduation, places Keonho had visited for competitions, and the like.
When they were leaving, Keonho thoughtfully offered to drive them home. Juhoon politely declined, but they exchanged contact information.
After that, Ahn Keonho simply remained another name in his contacts. That night, he sent a single message asking whether Juhoon had gotten home safely, and never texted again.
Which was perfectly normal.
Juhoon had plenty of numbers like that in his phone. People he'd met only once, people he neither would nor could contact again.
Until, a month later, he unexpectedly ran into Ahn Keonho on campus.
A friend casually mentioned during class that the university swim team had hired a new coach, a former national team athlete. Instantly, that smiling face flashed through Juhoon's mind. Keonho wasn't the sort of person one easily forgot.
He searched his name online and, sure enough, found several articles about him. One featured a profile photograph of Keonho in a black tracksuit with a whistle hanging around his neck.
The news itself meant nothing to Juhoon. He wasn't presumptuous enough to think Keonho would remember an insignificant college student like him. Besides, he had no particular reason to contact him again.
"Hey, Juhoon."
Keonho looked pleasantly surprised, though he remained perfectly composed. He flashed a bright smile, raised a hand, and greeted him.
He was wearing a white tank top beneath a red athletic jacket, paired with black shorts. He looked exactly like an ordinary university athletic coach.
"Mr. Ahn..." Juhoon immediately put on his polished social smile, nodded politely, and began making small talk.
"Just call me Keonho." With his hands tucked into his pockets, Keonho asked where Juhoon had class.
Keonho looked remarkably young. It wasn't until Juhoon later searched for more information online that he discovered Keonho was actually eleven years older than him. Even so, that striking face remained incredibly popular on campus, and Juhoon could feel people's eyes lingering on him as they walked past.
"If you're free, would you like to have dinner together tonight?"
"...Sure."
Caught off guard by the invitation, Juhoon raised an eyebrow before accepting without hesitation.
There was something different about Ahn Keonho. Juhoon could tell that Keonho's enthusiasm toward him went beyond what he usually encountered from people in that social circle. Yet unlike those whose intentions were obvious, Keonho never crossed any boundaries. He never deliberately engineered excuses to touch Juhoon's hand or openly praised his looks.
His attitude was warmer than ordinary friendliness.
But it never went any further.
Juhoon's gaze settled on the hand holding the steak knife. As Keonho pressed down to cut the meat, the veins on the back of his hand stood out clearly.
This was the third time Keonho had treated him to dinner at an upscale restaurant.
There was no such thing as a free lunch. Juhoon had a vague premonition of that. But Keonho behaved with such effortless naturalness that Juhoon neither had the opportunity nor the courage to ask outright.
Everything Keonho did left him bewildered.
He began running into him around campus with suspicious frequency. It was obvious the encounters were intentional, yet Juhoon pretended not to notice, allowing each chance meeting to stretch into several more hours together.
Most men like Ahn Keonho were thoroughly straight, probably even homophobic.
Yet the way Keonho treated him resembled an awkward high-school boy experiencing his first crush. He engineered chance encounters, smoothly invited him out afterward, patiently coaxed him into talking about his likes and dislikes, then tried, rather clumsily, to surprise him with thoughtful means.
The whole thing felt absurd.
It was almost the exact opposite of everything Juhoon had assumed about him.
He had never imagined such an old-fashioned style of courtship would be directed at him—least of all by Ahn Keonho.
It also placed him under an invisible pressure.
Each time he accepted something from Keonho, anxiety and unease made it increasingly difficult to maintain the cheerful expression on his face. It felt as though, sooner or later, someone would hand him an astronomical bill with no stated price.
He wasn't gay before. He'd had plenty of girlfriends, though every relationship had ended for one reason or another.
When he had first lost everything, he was immature. He found himself incapable of enjoying happiness if it came too cheaply, yet at the same time secretly humiliated by the charity of others. His confused state of mind made it impossible to sustain a long-term relationship, regardless of whether his partner was rich or poor.
Eventually he came to a conclusion: until he regained the standard of living he had once enjoyed, he simply wasn't suited for a stable, healthy relationship.
He was used to being the generous one.
Now, that was no longer possible.
Rather than seeking emotional comfort, perhaps dating had merely been a way to satisfy physical needs he couldn't suppress. If that was the case, then the simplest solution was to return to the purest form of sex—without commitment, without responsibility.
By his junior year, his private life had become a complete mess.
To avoid complications, he never slept with students from his own university. Even so, rumors about him never stopped circulating. Among the people who spent the night with him were both women and men. His first experiences with men had been born purely out of curiosity. Being on the receiving end was a little demanding, but not without its pleasures, so he found that he wasn't particularly averse to sex between men.
Contrary to his cool personality, Juhoon had an exceptionally strong sex drive.
To be honest, it troubled him. Satisfying those constant physical urges usually meant sleeping with many different people. He had tried finding regular friends with benefits, but more often than not, they eventually wanted a real relationship, which only led to unnecessary entanglements and drained even more of his energy.
Around the time he met Ahn Keonho, he had just ended a month-long arrangement with another casual partner.
There was no denying that Keonho's body was immensely attractive. His perfectly sculpted muscles, combined with a face that naturally lifted one's mood, made him hard to ignore. Sometimes Juhoon found himself watching Keonho tilt his head back to drink water, instinctively imagining the expressions he might wear during sex.
Whenever Keonho casually patted his shoulder, slipped an arm around him, or leaned in close to look at something together, Juhoon couldn't stop his throat from going dry.
They continued this not-quite-friends, not-quite-anything relationship for several months.
Since Keonho was always the one paying, Juhoon certainly had no complaints. Perhaps Keonho simply wanted to indulge in a little harmless flirtation, reliving the excitement of his younger days through a handsome college student.
Still, Keonho never brought him along to any other social gatherings, which left Juhoon mildly disappointed.
He had received provisional offers from several top private law schools, yet he still hadn't found anyone willing to finance his education. The world was full of Trust Fund Babies every bit as intelligent as he was, and those expensive universities had little interest in playing philanthropist. Even while juggling three part-time jobs, his savings were barely enough to make a dent.
Perhaps he should start working first. But once he entered the financial profession, it would become increasingly difficult to put his career on hold and return to school. The closer graduation drew, the more that anxiety drove him to attend new social events and cultivate every possible connection.
"I've got to meet Steve tonight, so I'm heading out."
Juhoon dried his still-damp hair with a towel and glanced at his phone. He had just stepped out of the gym showers. At Keonho's suggestion, they had recently started working out together.
"See you."
Keonho was sitting on a bench in the locker room, shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of gray athletic shorts. Juhoon couldn't help stealing another glance at his abs before Keonho looked up and smiled at him.
"You've been busy almost every night lately. I was hoping we could grab a drink."
"I don't really have a choice." Sensing the implication beneath the words, Juhoon smiled helplessly. "Maybe next time."
"You don't want to?"
Keonho pulled on a white sweatshirt, stood up, and walked over. Leaning down slightly, he looked Juhoon in the eye.
"I've got the feeling you've seemed pretty tired lately."
"Everyone's like this around graduation."
Juhoon hesitated for a moment before brushing the question aside. He packed up his things; he still needed to stop by his apartment to change.
"Juhoon, if you're ever in trouble... I'm here."
Keonho was standing directly behind him, close enough that Juhoon could feel the faint warmth of his breath against the back of his neck. The sensation made his skin itch, though perhaps it was only his imagination.
"...I know. Thanks."
Without turning around, Juhoon let out a stiff laugh. As he walked out of the locker room, he realized his heart was beating faster.
Those words were like a switch clicking into place.
In that instant, everything became clear.
He had no choice but to admit that an obvious shortcut lay right in front of him. And that he was, in fact, already standing within arm's reach of the very thing he had been desperately searching for.
The gathering that evening left Juhoon distracted. More than once, he caught himself zoning out in the middle of someone else's conversation. Feeling that staying any longer would only bring himself more unnecessary frustration, he made an excuse and slipped away early.
The venue was a long way from his apartment. Normally, if he happened to leave with someone else, he might be able to hitch a ride home. But tonight, he had no choice but to walk.
The neighborhood where he lived wasn't particularly safe. As he replayed his conversation with Ahn Keonho from that afternoon, Juhoon kept one eye on the pedestrians lining the street.
Keonho's signal had come late, but it had been a signal all the same.
Juhoon lowered his head and looked at the imitation black leather shoes on his feet. The streetlights were dim, and beneath their weak glow, the fake leather reflected a muddy, lifeless sheen.
A signal.
A sudden gust of wind swept past him.
Before he had time to react, he'd slammed hard into someone's shoulder.
Every alarm bell in Juhoon's head went off at once. Sure enough, when he looked up, he found himself staring into a pair of hostile eyes.
Up until now, his caution had spared him from ever being mugged.
Tonight, his luck had finally run out.
After uttering only a few curt threats, the man held out a hand, and Juhoon immediately surrendered his wallet.
There wasn't much cash inside. Naturally dissatisfied, the robber grabbed Juhoon's wrist, yanked back the sleeve of his suit jacket, and roughly tugged at the counterfeit watch on his arm. Juhoon hurriedly pleaded with him, putting on as convincing an act as he could.
The next second, the man drove a fist straight into his nose.
It was a heavy blow.
Rather than resist, Juhoon let the force carry him backward, collapsing onto the roadside. As he lay there begging for mercy, he hurriedly removed the watch himself. He was afraid that, in his haste, the robber might rip off his hand along with it.
After taking the watch, the man grabbed Juhoon by the collar and checked around his neck before thoroughly searching the rest of his body.
When he reached for Juhoon's phone, Juhoon instinctively resisted for a split second.
Almost immediately, the robber produced a knife.
That was enough.
Juhoon stopped struggling and watched helplessly as everything he owned disappeared into the darkness.
He wiped beneath his nose.
His fingers came away wet.
Looking down, he saw them stained black in the dim light.
He was bleeding.
He had cooperated throughout, so he hadn't suffered too badly. Even so, when he stood up, his head throbbed fiercely—partly, perhaps, because of the alcohol.
"If you're ever in trouble..."
Juhoon gingerly touched the bridge of his aching nose. He hadn't even asked, and fate had already handed him a "difficulty."
He took it as a second signal.
There was no longer much time to hesitate, nor did he have a better alternative. Someone who matched exactly what he needed—and who seemed to want something from him in return—had already appeared before him. If he let this opportunity slip away, he might lose forever the life that should have belonged to him.
Along with his phone disappeared all the numbers he would never be able to call again. It felt like there was no turning back now. There were no more possible avenues to explore. In truth, there hadn't been for a long time.
Ahn Keonho had become his last lifeline.
Juhoon understood that asking Keonho for help meant surrendering even more of himself. He'd heard stories about classmates who had become the kept lovers of wealthy businessmen or who provided sexual services to rich clients.
He had simply never imagined that one day he would become one of them, and he wasn't sure whether Keonho was seeing anyone else. But at least he didn't have a family of his own, yet that alone counted as good news. Still, Keonho's attitude had always been just ambiguous enough that Juhoon couldn't help worrying he'd misunderstood everything.
If it was all nothing more than wishful thinking...
Then he was finished.
And if that turned out to be the case, all he could do was accept reality and hurry to find a job that would keep him fed.
Without a phone, Juhoon didn't rush to look for Keonho. Instead, he disappeared from campus for several days, skipped a few classes, and deliberately lingered around the university swimming complex during lunch hour.
The midday heat was oppressive. Within minutes, he was soaked in sweat. He wiped his forehead and settled beneath the shade of a tree, his eyes fixed on the entrance to the natatorium, searching the crowds coming and going for one familiar figure.
Keonho looked exactly the same as ever.
His sun-bronzed skin carried a warm glow beneath the afternoon sunlight. Watching the muscles outlined beneath his thin athletic shirt and the habitual way he brushed his hair back from his forehead, Juhoon found himself inexplicably convinced that he'd made the right choice.
It wasn't until he drew closer that he noticed the girl standing beside him.
She was obviously a student, wearing a backpack, a cropped tank top, and denim shorts. She laughed as she talked to Keonho, and the way she looked at him was practically an invitation.
Juhoon didn't hesitate.
He quickened his pace and walked straight over.
"Hey. Do you have a minute? There's something I'd like to talk to you about."
He looked directly into Keonho's eyes.
Just as expected, he caught a flicker of surprise on Keonho's face.
"Oh, of course." Keonho nodded before turning to the girl with an apologetic smile. "Sorry."
"I'll contact you later."
The girl merely smiled brightly and shrugged as if it didn't matter before walking away.
Only then did Juhoon spare her retreating figure a glance.
"Juhoon, what happened to your nose?"
Keonho frowned slightly. He instinctively reached toward the bandage across Juhoon's nose, only to stop himself at the last second and withdraw his hand.
"Well..."
Juhoon lowered his eyes to the sports wristband on Keonho's retreating wrist.
"Have you had lunch yet?"
-
Holding a brand-new flagship phone—its polished edges gleaming—felt worlds apart from using the old one he'd owned for years, the one that occasionally lagged badly enough to drive him crazy.
Right in front of him, Keonho unboxed the phone, casually tossed the packaging onto the back seat of his car, and even installed the SIM card for him himself.
"I'll pay you back."
Running his thumb along the edge of the phone, Juhoon opened the contacts app before handing it back.
"Put your number in first."
"You don't have to..."
Keonho instinctively started to refuse, then paused as if reconsidering.
"...Let's talk about that later. I've already saved my number. If you ever need anything, just give me a call."
"...Thank you."
Juhoon looked up.
At that exact moment, Keonho happened to be looking at him as well. They held each other's gaze in silence for a few seconds before, almost in perfect unison, looking away.
Without another word, Keonho started the engine.
Juhoon didn't ask where they were going. Instead, he watched the streets and rows of trees drift past outside the window. Wherever the car ended up stopping, he thought, he wouldn't be surprised.
Keonho remained unusually quiet throughout the drive. Juhoon tried several times to start a conversation, but Keonho seemed distracted every time, so he tactfully stopped trying. Eventually, the car pulled into a familiar neighborhood.
Juhoon immediately recognized it. It was near the apartment building he rented.
"You don't see many luxury cars around here," Juhoon joked as he unfastened his seat belt. "Be careful someone doesn't scratch it."
He didn't ask how Keonho knew where he lived. Opening the door, he prepared to get out.
"Want to come upstairs? I don't have much to offer you, though."
"...No. I need to head back to campus. I've got training this afternoon."
When Juhoon looked up, he found Keonho watching the hand he'd used to unbuckle his seat belt, as though deliberately avoiding eye contact.
"Are you free tonight?"
"Of course."
Closing the car door, Juhoon bent down slightly and smiled through the open window. Then something occurred to him.
"I'll call you when I get home."
He paused.
"Just don't mix me up with that girl."
Keonho let out a quiet laugh.
"Juhoon... come on."
He looked slightly helpless, but didn't elaborate.
Back in his apartment, Juhoon began rummaging through his closet for something to wear.
He had always dressed well.
Having grown accustomed to luxury brands, he'd managed to keep a handful of his old designer clothes even after most of his wardrobe had been sold off following his father's bankruptcy. They had all been the latest styles at the time.
At first, he'd continued dressing the way he always had, as though trying to preserve a dignity that no longer existed. Eventually, however, it became obvious he couldn't afford the rest of the lifestyle that came with them. That so-called dignity had become little more than self-deception, bringing him nothing but frustration. One by one, those clothes had found their way to the back of his closet.
He changed outfits several times, dissatisfied every time. Finally, he sat dejectedly on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the full-length mirror with the crack running across it.
What if tonight didn't unfold the way he imagined?
What would he do then?
He peeled the bandage off his nose. There were no cuts, only some lingering swelling, subtle enough that no one would notice unless they looked closely. He stripped off his clothes, tossing them into a messy pile on the bed, and headed into the bathroom first.
Steam quickly filled the tiny room. Even with the exhaust fan running, it made little difference. Within minutes, a thin layer of condensation had clouded the mirror.
At that moment, it occurred to Juhoon that there might be somewhere else he ought to clean up as well. Sitting on the toilet, he couldn't help wondering whether professional sex workers went through the same routine before going to work.
When he came out of the bathroom, the brand-new phone lying on his battered old desk lit up.
There was one missed call from Keonho.
Juhoon immediately called back.
Hanging the bath towel over the back of a chair, he sat naked on the edge of the bed and began sorting through the pile of clothes again, trying to pick a winner.
"Juhoon, are you still at home?"
Keonho spoke first when the call connected.
There was quite a bit of background noise on his end; Juhoon could hear people talking nearby.
"Yeah."
Juhoon picked up a towel and rubbed at his damp hair.
"I'm finished over here. I can come pick you up in half an hour. Would that work?"
Keonho seemed to be walking somewhere. A moment later, the background noise disappeared. Juhoon guessed he'd just stepped out of the locker room.
"Sounds good."
His answer was brief. Then he pulled on a pair of jeans that lay beside him.
"I'll wait where you dropped me off today."
"...What are you doing right now?"
After a brief silence, Keonho asked without hanging up.
"Why don't you guess?"
Juhoon laughed, his voice lilting teasingly. After zipping up his jeans, he deliberately made a bit of noise as he pulled on a shirt.
Silence answered him.
Several seconds later, he immediately regretted it and awkwardly tried to cover himself.
"I was actually just sorting out my clothes. I've been so busy lately that I haven't had time to tidy up."
"Mm."
Keonho's response was vague, giving no indication whether he believed him or not.
He needed the alcohol to steady his nerves. A pleasant buzz was ideal—it would help both of them relax. Juhoon hadn't eaten much dinner that evening, but he deliberately drank more than he usually did. He flushed easily when he drank, though it took a lot to actually get him drunk.
As for Keonho, Juhoon wasn't sure about his tolerance. He didn't drink much, more or less matching Juhoon's pace. By the time they would normally have been getting ready to leave, Juhoon remained motionless in his seat. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Keonho checking his watch.
"Hey, don't drink so much. Let me take you home." Keonho gently grasped the other side of Juhoon's glass, his fingers brushing Juhoon's for an instant before immediately pulling back. Oddly enough, the gesture left Juhoon feeling mildly irritated.
"But I don't want to go home yet." Turning his head, he stared at Keonho's face, still dazzling even beneath the dim lighting. "What should I do?"
"Then we'll stay a little longer." To Juhoon's surprise, Keonho agreed without hesitation, leaving him with no room to press the issue. He could only lower his head and continue drinking.
"Why do you want to spend time with me?" He swirled the little bit of liquor remaining in his glass and asked the question out of nowhere.
"Hmm... I couldn't really tell you." Keonho's tone remained easygoing. "I just think you're a very special kid."
"...Why do you sound like an old man?"
"I'm eleven years older than you, Juhoon." Keonho smiled good-naturedly and shrugged, taking no offense.
"Hey." Juhoon turned toward him, leaning a little closer. There was something about Keonho's eyes, as though the alcohol had cast a spell over them, making it impossible for Juhoon to look away. "Have you ever slept with one of the students at our university?"
"That would be against the rules." Keonho narrowed his eyes. For once, he didn't avoid Juhoon's gaze. Lowering his voice so much that Juhoon had to strain to hear him, he said, "I'd get fired."
"Do you care about that?" He was genuinely a little drunk now. Once he started talking, he couldn't stop, spilling every thought in his head before he could think better of it. "Is this job really that important to you, Champion?"
"...Having it is better than not." Keonho's voice grew quieter. He turned his face away again, making it impossible to read his expression.
"I wouldn't care," Juhoon said abruptly.
"What?"
"If I wanted to sleep with someone, I wouldn't care whether they were my teacher." Juhoon considered being bolder, perhaps resting a hand on Keonho's shoulder. They were sitting so close together now. In the end, the last remnants of his reason held him back. He merely rested his elbow on the bar. "Besides, I won't be a student for much longer."
"So have you?" Keonho seemed to frown. At least he turned back to face Juhoon again, his expression unusually serious. "You and one of the faculty..."
"No." Juhoon cut him off, sounding slightly impatient. He wasn't even sure where the impatience came from. "But the thought has crossed my mind recently."
Keonho fell silent again. Whatever was going through his head, his eyes never left Juhoon, watching him intently. The unwavering gaze gave Juhoon a little more courage.
"Weren't you going to take me home?" He drained the last of his drink. The icy liquid slid down his throat, yet somehow burned all the way down. "Take me to your place."
When they stopped outside Keonho's apartment and Juhoon watched him take out his keys to unlock the door, he still felt slightly dazed.
So this is it?
This is the path I've chosen?
He lowered his eyes to the marble tiles beneath his feet, then glanced at the enormous shoe cabinet by the entrance.
But the moment the door opened, his attention was immediately drawn elsewhere. The apartment was a duplex. The instant the lights came on, the city skyline unfolded beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.
This was the kind of home he was familiar with. The kind he'd grown up in. Beautiful furniture. Tasteful interior design. Expensive paintings hanging on the walls. Even the walk-in closet was about the same size as the apartment he currently rented.
Juhoon stopped in the doorway, slipped off the slightly worn designer shoes on his feet, and lined them up neatly by the entrance.
"If you decide you want to leave, just tell me at any time." Keonho fetched a pair of slippers and crouched down himself to place them at Juhoon's feet.
"What if I tell you I want to leave halfway through?" Juhoon looked down at him almost provocatively. "Would you let me?"
"That's hard to say." Keonho smiled, clearly in a good mood. Straightening up, he leaned close to Juhoon's ear. "So you'd better make use of the time you've got left."
"...I don't need to." Juhoon swallowed and met his gaze.
There wasn't much smell of alcohol on Keonho. Instead, the faint scent of his cologne, so familiar from before, seemed especially intoxicating now.
Keonho reached out and touched his face.
His hand was cool.
Juhoon instinctively shrank back a little, suddenly aware of how unnaturally hot his cheeks felt. His eyes began wandering uncertainly.
You're acting like a virgin, he thought. How ridiculous.
Keonho's palm cupped his cheek, gently stroking it before sliding down to his neck.
It tickled.
Juhoon resisted the urge to pull away, though his breathing had already become uneven.
"Go take a shower first." As if sensing his nervousness, Keonho curled the corners of his mouth into a faint smile, stepped back half a pace, and gestured politely toward the bathroom.
"Why don't we shower together?" Juhoon refused to back down, stepping closer instead. "It'll save time."
He reached out, tugging lightly at Keonho's collar before immediately loosening his grip, worried he might wrinkle it.
Before he could even react, he had been lifted up in one swift movement. Instinctively, he threw his arms around Keonho's shoulders, his legs wrapping around the man's waist.
To see Keonho's face, Juhoon had to lower his head. Their noses were nearly touching. His slightly overgrown bangs even brushed against Keonho's cheek.
The bathtub in Keonho's apartment was enormous—large enough for two or three people without feeling crowded. The moment they entered the bathroom, Keonho set him down on the vanity.
Awkwardly but impatiently, Juhoon fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. Perhaps it was because he was slightly drunk. After several attempts, he still couldn't undo the last stubborn button.
"Fuck."
For a moment, he seriously considered tearing the shirt open, then he remembered how much it had cost and forced himself to stop.
Keonho's face hovered close to his bare shoulder.
Instead of helping, he simply lowered his eyes to the obstinate button and let out a quiet chuckle, his warm breath washing over Juhoon's collarbone, already flushed red from either the alcohol or something else entirely.
"Help me out here."
Juhoon gave his shoulder a gentle shove.
Keonho went along with it, dropping to one knee between Juhoon's legs. He used both hands to undo the remaining button, then unfastened his belt, followed by his jeans.
By the time Keonho had stripped him completely naked, he himself was still impeccably dressed.
The sight displeased Juhoon. Hooking a foot around the waistband of Keonho's trousers, he gave it a tug.
"Take off your clothes."
“Don't rush.” Keonho caught hold of his restlessly moving ankle. He didn't use much force, and before letting go, he gently stroked it once. Everywhere Keonho touched felt as though an electric current had run through it. Juhoon could already feel himself beginning to harden.
After testing the temperature of the bathwater, Keonho lowered Juhoon into the tub. The warm water rose over his body, so comfortable that he instinctively tipped his head back. Keonho's chest pressed tightly against his arm, and Juhoon could clearly feel something hard against his backside—something impossible to ignore.
Before Keonho had even fully stepped into the tub, Juhoon suddenly wrapped his arms around his neck and pressed his lips eagerly against Keonho's. Water sloshed over the edge of the bathtub with a loud splash, only to be drowned out moments later by the wet sounds of their kiss.
Keonho was an excellent kisser. His tongue traced lightly over the tip of Juhoon's before sliding deeper, all the way to the back of his tongue, leaving everything it touched tingling. One hand cradled the back of Juhoon's head, firm enough to hold him in place but never enough to hurt. Juhoon braced himself against the edge of the tub and leaned his whole body into him. The kiss lasted almost too long, yet the faint edge of suffocation only made him more excited. He had no idea how much time had passed before Keonho finally pulled away. The instant their lips parted, Juhoon gasped for air, saliva slipping from the corner of his mouth as he lacked the energy to wipe it away.
"How about we do it here? Let me wash you first..." Keonho brushed his thumb gently across Juhoon's lips, wiping them clean. He was breathing a little harder too, but nowhere near as much as Juhoon. At that moment, Juhoon almost hated how effortlessly composed he looked.
Reaching into the water, Juhoon wrapped a hand around Keonho's erection and began stroking him with rough, impatient movements. Only when he heard Keonho draw in a sharp breath did he feel satisfied.
"Don't treat me like some kid who needs taking care of." Juhoon leaned close and licked away a bead of water trailing down Keonho's neck. "I've already showered."
"All right..." Keonho caught his wrist before leaning in to kiss him again. This one was brief, more like a playful bite. "I get it. You like it a little rough."
No sooner had the words left his mouth than Keonho lifted him by the hips again. Most of the bathwater had already spilled over during their earlier movements, leaving only enough to reach their waists. Keonho turned him around and positioned him on his knees.
"Hold on tight. If it hurts, tell me." His upper body was still beaded with water, and exposed to the cool air, Juhoon felt a slight chill. But when Keonho's body pressed flush against his back, it suddenly became too warm.
"I told you..." The words broke apart as Juhoon let out a startled cry at the sensation of a finger entering him. It was thicker than his own, longer too, and slid into him in one smooth motion.
"Done this before?" Keonho seemed to ask on purpose, bending low to kiss and lick at the shell of his ear as he spoke.
"Y-Yeah... ah..." Juhoon gritted his teeth, though helpless breaths continued escaping between his lips. He forced himself to relax, accommodating the fingers moving steadily inside him. "That's enough... come inside..."
"I never realized you were so thirsty..." Keonho laughed again, trailing off halfway through the sentence. The rigid heat of his arousal nudged slowly against Juhoon's entrance, circling lazily. Juhoon was just thinking that Keonho had been smiling unusually often tonight when, in the next instant, something forced his body open and pushed inside with unmistakable firmness.
"Ah—! Fuck..." Bracing himself against the wall, Juhoon tipped his head back, breathing hard. The sudden pain wiped his thoughts completely blank, his brows knitting tightly together.
"Relax. Turn your face toward me." Keonho rested a hand on his damp waist, stroking him soothingly as he leaned in to kiss him again. His voice was warm and coaxing, almost as though he were comforting him. "I told you we should've spent longer getting you ready."
"Fuck... it's because it's been too long..." Juhoon answered instinctively. The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them, feeling as though he'd handed Keonho an unnecessary advantage. He immediately clamped his mouth shut.
"Got it. I'll take good care of you." Holding him firmly by the waist, Keonho began moving at an unhurried pace, kissing his way down the back of Juhoon's neck and along his spine.
"Ah... hah... Keonho..."
"Mm. Does it feel better now?"
"Harder..." The past month had been nothing but stress, and he had hardly had sex at all. The pleasure now coursing through him was so overwhelming it felt as though it would shatter him from the inside out.
He completely forgot why he had come here. Everything that would need to be dealt with afterward vanished from his mind. If only he could keep having sex with Keonho until he lost consciousness. If only his mind could stay blissfully empty forever.
The bathroom echoed with nothing but the rhythmic sounds of their bodies and the splashing of water. Juhoon's hair was completely soaked now, long strands plastered across the bridge of his nose. It was slightly irritating, but the pleasure behind him was so intense that he barely noticed anymore.
An athlete was still an athlete—even retired, Keonho's stamina was extraordinary. Juhoon had already climaxed once, yet Keonho showed no signs of stopping. Keonho's hand brushed over one of his nipples before pinching it with just enough pressure to make Juhoon's toes curl.
Keonho wasn't wearing a condom, so just before reaching his climax, he withdrew completely, spilling himself across Juhoon's back.
The strength immediately drained from Juhoon's body. Barely managing to support himself against the edge of the tub, he pushed himself upright and noticed that his knees, where he had been kneeling, had turned slightly red. A moment later, Keonho gathered him into his arms again and lifted him completely out of the water.
"We're not finished yet. Hang in there, Juhoon." Keonho kissed the edge of his ear before standing up in the tub and turning on the shower, letting warm water rinse away the tangled traces left on his body.
Juhoon lowered his head, looking at the strong arms wrapped around his waist.
They felt like a lifebuoy, keeping him afloat on the surface of a bottomless sea, allowing him to survive just a little longer before the storm finally arrived.