There had been a moment, before summer, when Oh-aew had asked him if he wanted this and he had said, with his dumb mouth, with his stupid no-good mouth, he’d said: I’m not sure I’ll keep on wanting this. He’d been a fool and he hadn’t known, he hadn’t known anything. No one knew anything, no one in the world, not a single person who had ever set eyes on Oh and had not wanted him desperately, not Bas who’d had him and somehow let him go, none of them, none of them knew anything because if they knew, if they understood the feel of him, the taste of him, how he undulated and grabbed and unfolded so beautifully then surely, surely the world would’ve long ago bent at his feet and no one would ever—ever—
The windows are open, and the warm ocean breeze is floating in in gentle waves, making the curtains dance in delight as the sunshine cuts through the house’s refreshing shade. It’s a beautiful day with a clear sky, and it’s almost a waste to spend it inside, but all that Oh-Aew can concentrate on is the confident movement of Teh’s hands as they shift the pencil around and turn the pages from time to time.
Thing is, Sang Ha knows what he likes. He is a healthy nineteen year old male who spent a lot of time fantasizing about one man in particular, and he also has a smartphone and access to the free Wi-Fi of the university dormitory. He is not proud to say that he has spent far too many nights with his hand wrapped around himself and the name of his senior on his lips after he had managed to catch a glimpse of Jin Won in the corridors of his high school, but he is not shy about it either. He has never shared his pleasure with anybody else, except for that night with Jin Won a week ago, but there’s not an ounce of shame in his desires. He still manages to get embarrassed when Jin Won gets closer to him, but those instances are getting rarer and rarer, replaced instead with heated stares and lingering touches that often leave his boyfriend spluttering.
This mini-series has the kind of concept normally only found in fanfic – and the relationship between Yeonwoo and Yoohan is definitely borderline unhealthy. Yet it’s entirely captivating, and this fic manages to show why.
“Have you ever…” Two trailed off to move his closed fist in front of his mouth and pump it in a crude gesture that only had one meaning, because nothing could prepare him to say that in front of his friend. “You know? With Khai?”
As he drove home, Two couldn’t help but smile as he thought about the teasing he had received from his friends when he announced he would work at Un’s studio for a year. Even though he was used to the joking about his relationship with his boyfriend – just like he never missed a chance to insult Khai and Third’s relationship – it was kind of justified in that case.
Two was too much of a whipped man for Un, and it showed.
In the first quiet billows of an oncoming storm, his uncle wraps an arm over his shoulder and shivers in the wind, hair that grayed too early blustered out of its semblance, his eyes haunted by a ghost Pharm fears he will never stop chasing. How many people will he see pieces of Intouch in, his nephew wonders? How much more sea glass will he pull out of the sand to keep as if all the mismatched specks of color can be made into one whole?
At twenty, the narrator of the novel he wrote under a different name was broken, burdened, universal.
At fifty, Korn is cold, quiet, and tired.
There’s a house Pharm loves on the beach, a harbor, a sanctuary, that suddenly feels emptier than it ever has.