When tomorrow happened

After paying the taxi driver, Jungkook got out of the car and adjusted his high fur collar, wincing at the icy wind gnawing at his skin. Not even a thick woollen turtleneck could save him. Lifting his chin, he looked round the ten-storey block of flats with eyes reddened by fatigue and, digging into his pocket, pulled out his phone. Sliding his hardened fingers over the cold screen, Jeon found “Mom” in the contact list and called. The long beeps made the boy stomp nervously in place. The slush beneath his feet clung unpleasantly to the soles of his old shoes. Waiting for someone to answer the phone, Jungkook rummaged in his pocket again and pulled out a piece of mango-flavoured gum. As he popped it into his mouth, Jeon felt the sharpness on his tongue and remembered that this company was notable for adding stinging chilli peppers to the sweetness. It tasted disgusting, but Jungkook kept chewing, trying to distract himself from the long unanswered beeps. Finally the beeps disappeared, and Jeon looked up hopefully, trying to see a familiar figure on the balcony, but the dry voice on the speaker made him lower his gaze and stare helplessly at the muddy puddle beneath his feet. “Jungkook?” “Hi, mum. I’m already at your house. Will someone open the door?” There were some muffled noises and whispers on the other side. “Jungkook.” “Yes, Mum?” The boy hid his frozen fingertips in his pockets, but the cold continued to eat away at his skin, creeping under the collar of his turtleneck. “We’re not coming tonight.” Jeon froze. His eyes darted nervously across the wet pavement, covered in a light layer of dirty snow. “What do you mean? Why didn’t you tell me? It took me four hours to get to Busan. I don’t have the keys to your flat…” The piercing silence on the other end of the phone cut my ears mercilessly. Jungkook, frozen and shivering in the cold, felt tears come to the corners of his eyes. “Mum.” “…” “Mum,” the previously collected voice trembled. The corners of his lips curled, his upper front teeth clamped around his lower lip and pressed down with force. “Mum.” “I’m sorry,” she replied with a hitch. The tone was dry. There was no guilt in it. Sorry? That’s funny. “Did you get the transfer?” “Yes, Jungkook, thank you for the money.” There was silence again. His stomach twisted, and Jeon quickly bent down, clutching his aching stomach. His left hand held the phone firmly to his ear. Sniffling, he wiped his wet eyes and licked his lips hastily, asking in a low, weak whisper, ready to turn into a loud scream at any moment: “Why are you doing this to me, mum…?” “Bye, Jungkook,” the woman replied distantly and hung up the phone. “Mum!” the boy’s cheeks flushed red, a muffled howl escaped from his chest. Abruptly squatting down, he wrapped his hands around his face and muffled a muffled moan. His body shook uncontrollably. Cold, wet snow clung to his clothes and hair, and the wind blew the prickly snow around his face indifferently. “What the fuck had I done wrong?” “You’re being disgusting, Jungkook. Why were you even born?” — his mother had questioned him as he diligently pored over his school books, trying to conform to her idiotic attitudes. He had reformed. But why didn’t she? Why did she keep leaving him? Is that what mums do? Why did this shit only work one way? “Doesn’t my mum love me?” He asked his father one day, sitting in the kitchen surrounded by old newspaper clippings. The man, hearing the question, looked up at him from under his glasses and hummed. “No. No one likes kids who don’t do well in school.” But Jungkook never brought home bad grades. Wasn’t that enough? Why? Why is it always not enough for all of them? Over time, Jungkook came to terms with this attitude. School, university, everything flew by him. But yesterday, when his parents called him and asked him to come over for dinner, Jungkook immediately rushed to buy tickets from Seoul to Busan. For what? “I’m sorry?” Straightening up and wiping his face with a dry napkin, he swallowed heavily and turned around and slowly walked down the road towards the centre. Jungkook was the only one who was truly sorry. He had come today to say goodbye, but even that wasn’t allowed. It was just ridiculous. To the point of absurd. “Fucked up,” Jungkook hummed, slapping right through the puddles that barely reached the toes of his autumn boots. “I’m such a jerk. Cool.” He swallowed the already tasteless gum and pulled his head into his neck, burying his nose in his collar. A fresh, gusty wind blew again, which immediately dripped drops and tracks of tears on his rosy cheeks. It was ten o’clock at night when with slow steps Jungkook finally reached the Nampo neighbourhood, hopping on a bus on the way. Here he walked down a street full of gastronomic delights a few times, bought a couple of flatbreads with fried kimchi, and sat by a fountain. By then, there were fewer people on the street, and Jungkook was sitting in the park almost alone. He decided to enjoy the beauty of street life one last time, and walked around two more shops: one with women’s cosmetics and homemade clothes, and one with ordinary stationery. The last time Jeon had entered such shops was only when he quit his job as a lawyer. For twenty-seven years, he had lived other people’s dreams. What a waste of time, it turns out. Getting up from the bench and wiping his fingers after another batch of sweet berry dessert, Jungkook looked around the bustling street and saw a large booth with some Idol advertising perfume a couple of metres away. Switching on his front camera, Jungkook took a few selfies, smiling widely. Putting the phone down, he went through the filters and put on a bokeh effect. The picture immediately became brighter, and his face lit up on it, radiating sincerity. It was a good thing his teeth were white, otherwise the photo would have turned out even uglier. Jungkook grinned at the thought of it. Turning over his shoulder, he looked at the idol, at his neat red bow lips and delicate pale skin, and with a hum, he turned away, continuing on his way down Nampo. Yes, beautiful people are amazing. Good thing he wasn’t one. Wandering down the street, Jungkook came across a photo booth. Opening his wallet, he pulled out some cash and after thinking for a few seconds, he made his way into the warm heated room. There were props lying near a large mirror. Jungkook rummaged through the basket and pulled out a frog-eyed headband and a strange hat with a purple bow. Putting them on, he stared at his own reflection for a minute and finally moved away from it, moving into the cubicle. After closing the curtain behind him, Jungkook shoved a couple of papers into the note acceptor and stood in a funny pose, sticking his tongue out at the same time. Pulling out a photo with four cutouts, each of which showed him making strange but funny poses, Jungkook lifted the corners of his lips slightly. His face softened. It would be nice to frame this photo. Leaving the stall, which was suddenly stuffy, Jungkook looked around at the walls filled with a hundred of these films, each one depicting a friendly group of people. Jungkook looked at his picture again and wrinkled his nose. Well, he looked a little lonely, yes. In fact, he used to have a friend, in his first year of University. Only that one had stolen his girlfriend after three months and broken his nose with a door handle. Jeon was in hospital praying that it wasn’t the bones in his nose that would heal, but that he wouldn’t get kicked out of uni. The bones were painful to heal, but they didn’t kick him out of the university, threatening him not to stir up any more conflicts. Jungkook didn’t want his mother to be disappointed in him, so he behaved well and graduated with a red diploma. Mum smiled at him for the first time then. It wasn’t bad, but Jungkook didn’t feel joy. He answered her with a fake smile, and after he closed himself in his room, he cried dryly. The tears flowed with difficulty, he squeezed them out of himself just because. Jungkook hasn’t had a relationship since. Maybe someone would take away his partner again, and this time he wouldn’t get by on one nose. Jeon was a tall guy, but he didn’t like to fight. Scratching his fists against someone was the last thing an adequate man would do. After warming up for a while, Jungkook left the photo booth. The light from the street lamps immediately splashed his eyes. It wasn’t a good idea to stay out in the cold for the night after all. With that thought in mind, Jungkook walked another dozen metres, wandered back to the stall, had a snack, and then, after reaching the first bench he could find, sat down relaxedly on it and used his phone to look for a room in a motel. His post with the published photo of the bench had already gathered twenty likes. People really liked the guy advertising perfume. The train to Seoul from Busan left at six o’clock in the morning. So he had to book his room by five o’clock. There was a lot to do tomorrow. The bench creaked and shook slightly. Jungkook took his eyes off the tape of motel rooms and glanced at the man next to him. He wore a black coat of good fabric, obviously expensive, and a gold-cased watch on his right wrist, the hand on which had just reached half past one. His dark hair was neatly styled, and there was not a single wrinkle in his pale face. About thirty years old? Or maybe a little more. Jungkook looked away. His lawyer’s skills were sometimes really intimidating. The prices for motel rooms were impressive, too. As he scrolled down the tape, he heard quiet breathing next to him and was stunned by the question that flew straight to his forehead: “Would you like to hook up?” Jungkook froze. Turning his head, he looked puzzled at the man who continued to maintain a casual look. “Are you one of those…exhibitionists?” Squinting doubtfully, Jeon asked. The jacket on his shoulders rustled as the guy moved slightly away from the stranger sitting next to him. The man grinned lazily. Beautiful. Like the bloke from the booth. “No. If I were an exhibitionist, I’d open my coat right now without caring about any questions,” he coughed softly, gave Jungkook a calm look and repeated. “Would you like to sleep with me?” “Do you?” “If I’m asking, then I want to.” Jungkook stared dumbly at the extinguished screen of his phone. He had never slept with a man. “Will I be a bottom?” The stranger raised his eyebrows in amazement and then laughed softly. then laughed softly. “Are you hetero?” “Yeah.” “On top, then.” “Oh.” Jungkook didn’t know what to say. His fingernails scraped nervously on the phone case. The man calmly and patiently waited for his answer. He generally looked like a marble statue that had stubbornly survived several falls. Many emotions existed on the man’s face: a quivering lower lip, fluttering nostrils, lashes that languidly covered a cloudy, dark gaze. But the eyes. The eyes remained cold. Jungkook looked into them and saw a reflection of himself. “Okay,” a naive agreement rolled off his tongue. The man was surprised, but tried not to show it. Rising from the bench, he shoved his pale, thin hands into his pockets and nodded toward the corner convenience store where the black Audi was parked. “Let’s go.” Jungkook sat motionless on the bench for a few seconds, trying to make sense of what had just happened, and finally got up, deciding to put all those ponderous thoughts to rest. There was a faint scent of leather and a pleasant, unobtrusive perfume in the cabin. After buckling himself in, Jungkook looked out the window, and a minute later the neighbourhood began to pass by quickly. “Have you booked a room yet?” The man asked a question. Jungkook nodded wordlessly. The stranger tore his eyes away from the green traffic light and apologised. “I apologise, I accidentally saw the motel rooms on your phone when I was getting on.” “It’s okay,” Jeon said, keeping his eyes on the colourful streets outside the window. “You might find me boring.” The man chuckled. “But I’m fun.” Jungkook sniffed his nose, hiding a chuckle. Busan looked amazing at night. The lights of the city illuminated the gloomy streets, and the crumbles of snow looked especially distinct, as if someone had poured flour from above. Quiet music suddenly played in the cabin. Jungkook flinched as he looked at the radio, and the stranger noticed his uneasiness. “If you don’t like it, I’ll switch it off.” “No need, leave it on.” The music was Christmas music. Isn’t it a bit early? Locking his fingers together, Jungkook turned away and stared again at the string of cars passing by. When the car slowed down at a tall building with panoramic windows, Jeon got out without waiting for the man’s words and cringed as the cold once again enveloped him from head to toe. The tall stranger, who Jeon had just noticed was slightly shorter than him by only a couple of centimetres, closed the Audi and turned to the guy in the fur jacket and pointed to the hotel entrance. Jungkook hoped he wouldn’t have to pay for a couple of hours in a place like this, since his wallet couldn’t afford it. Although…if it was the last time, it was okay to splurge. Stepping into the lobby, Jeon drew in the pleasant smell of some floral fragrance with pleasure. The man left the lobby, advising him to wait on the sofas for a while, and walked to the reception desk, where a young receptionist was waiting for him. There was a soda machine in the corner of the ground floor. Jungkook threw a few coins into it and got a sweet banana milk. Unscrewing the cap, he took two small sips and leaned back on the couch with a faint half-smile. Only now did it dawn on Jungkook that they had never asked each other’s names. However, if this man hadn’t inquired, then he didn’t really need it. Sex for a couple of hours. Names weren’t necessary. Footsteps were heard nearby, which soon fell silent. The man stopped beside him and, after a moment’s silence, said: “Everything is ready.” Jeon opened his eyes, stood up, threw away the empty drink can and followed the man, occasionally distracted by looking at some local art objects decorating the ground floor of the hotel. In the lift, they both remained silent. When Jungkook saw his reflection in the glass, he brushed away the strands of hair stuck to his forehead and exhaled silently. It was a little awkward. They went up to the thirteenth floor of the hotel. Jeon saw a wide window in the corridor, through which he could see Busan at night, covered with a layer of snow. For a couple of seconds he stood gazing out at the silent, quiet beauty, and only continued when a man stopped a few steps from the door of their room and looked expectantly in his direction. The room looked expensive. A small dressing room that could still fit himself, a bathroom, a separate toilet with all sorts of fancy things, a balcony overlooking the intersection, and a wide, clean bed. Jungkook’s sensitive nose immediately picked up the smell of freshly laundered linen. The man leisurely pulled off his coat and placed it on the back of a chair instead of hanging it up in the dressing room. A couple of buttons of the white shirt were carelessly undone, exposing his collarbones and a piece of tattoo crossing them. Jungkook averted his eyes and looked towards the bathroom. “You can take a shower first.” Nodding, he picked up the dressing gown and towel that were on the bed and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him with a quiet slam. Seeing his face reddened by the cold in the mirror, Jungkook rubbed it with his fingertips and began to undress. The hot water felt good on his naked, cold body. There were no more thoughts in Jungkook’s mind, the shower washed them away with him. As he stepped out of the bathtub, he heard a lingering monotonous melody that did something to brighten the silence in the bedroom. The stranger stood on the balcony, smoking a thin cigarette. The waistcoat he was wearing was also lying on the chair, along with his coat. The black patent shoes stood neatly by the entrance. Jungkook shifted his gaze to the man’s feet and saw white soft slippers on them. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he stared mindlessly at the television hanging on the wall. After waiting for another three minutes, he saw the man put out his cigarette butt, stretch his body and walk off the balcony, staring at the boy sitting on the bed. The corners of his lips trembled imperceptibly. “How much time do we have?” The man asked, taking his watch off his wrist and placing it on the bedside table. Jungkook looked at the phone and said: “Three hours.” The stranger pressed his lips together. “I was hoping for longer,” he sighed, rummaging through the nightstand and pulling out some lubricant along with a pack of condoms. “I’m going to go to the bathroom for a while, so make yourself comfortable.” Taking one blister out of the pack, the man picked up a towel and the same terrycloth dressing gown and closed himself in the shower. “Longer?” And three hours is quite enough, no? Especially for strangers. Jungkook leaned back and sank into the softness of the bed. Digging through his phone, he came across some old correspondences and after some thought deleted them all. He wouldn’t need any of them anymore anyway. His feet kicked up and he stepped out onto the balcony, sucking in the frosty autumn air. Goosebumps immediately clung to his skin, forcing him not to be a hero and to go back to his warm room. Jungkook didn’t know what to do. After playing some game on his phone for five minutes, he heard the lock on the door click and turned around. The man stepped out of the shower, towelling his wet neck with a towel that dripped large drops of water, and walked over to the bed and hovered over it, thoughtfully giving the seated Jungkook a strange look. Jeon subconsciously sensed that it was about to start. His gut didn’t fail him. The man tossed the towel to the floor, touched the boy’s chin with a damp, cool palm and stroked his jaw, slowly sliding it to his left ear. It was as if that touch held a message: relax. Jungkook covered his eyes, surrendering to the sensation of the stranger’s fingers rubbing his earlobe. After circling the earlobe, the hand travelled further without breaking the touch with his scalp. It felt like a massage. Pleasant. The bed creaked. The man carefully climbed onto his thighs, and Jungkook exhaled heavily as he felt the hot touch of naked skin on his leg. Another hand joined the head massage, sliding down the back of his head and moving to his exposed neck. His thumb pressed on his adrenal gland, and Jungkook nearly choked. His eyes were still closed as well. Jeon was simply afraid to open them, not wanting to disturb the intimate moment between them. The man’s hands came away from Jungkook’s head and circled around his wrists, guiding them upwards. Jeon felt, somehow, what he had touched swelled and then lowered again. His chest. The rustle of the terrycloth dressing gown coming undone made Jungkook’s eyes widen. The man pressed down on the fabric and forced it slid down even lower. Jeon wanted to touch his powerful bare shoulders, but he didn’t dare. The stranger, catching the doubt in his expression, grinned and lifted his hand to trace Jungkook’s lips, slightly moist from saliva. Pulling them apart, he opened his mouth and, feeling his lower jaw like a dentist at an appointment, slipped two fingers into it. “Lick them,” he said in a low voice. Jungkook’s tongue was hot, almost scalding. As he sucked the fingers into his mouth, he bit down on them, causing a faint smirk to appear on the man’s impassive face. The fingers didn’t have any strange flavour, so Jeon continued licking them, exhaling loudly through his nose. As he did so, his other hand stroked his collarbones and moved to his pectoral muscles, scratching them with the tips of his fingernails. The air that surrounded Jungkook squeezed his temples with force, forcing him to clench his eyes for a second and come round again. The man glared with cold black eyes and pulled the wet phalanges out of the boy’s mouth, wheezing and shoving them into his mouth, ostentatiously passing his broad tongue between the fingers spread in the manner of an English “V”. Teasing. Jungkook choked, eyes wide. His eyelashes fluttered as the hot drop that had previously rolled serenely over the man’s skin hit the dimple between his collarbones. The snotty air made his head spin. The stranger pressed a hand on Jungkook’s chest and made him fall onto his back. Finally pulling off his dressing gown, the man loomed over Jungkook and, gazing intently into his eyes, began to stroke his skin. First the neck. Fingers travelling weightlessly over the folds and bulging veins, he leaned down and, scorching Jeon’s skin with his deep, gurgling breath, pressed his lips together, the tips of his teeth pulling the skin into himself. Jungkook flinched, squinting painfully, and his palm moved quickly to the man’s lower back, clenching it roughly. A muffled laugh was heard. The man pulled away from the man’s neck and licked the red spot and began to move lower, rubbing his entire body against the guy’s thigh at the same time. Skin against skin. Jeon’s chest moved faster when he felt something viscous drip down his leg. Lowering his eyes, he froze, panting even louder. The man rubbed his erect, oozing cock against him and made short progressive movements with his pelvis. “Look at me.” Jungkook obediently looked into the eyes opposite and shuddered. How much arousal there was in them… The stranger, catching his gaze, nodded and reached even lower. Feeling a nipple, he blew on it and, after waiting for a reaction from the guy below him, nipped it with his teeth, squelching it into his mouth and sucking on it. Jungkook rolled his eyes and raised his hips, the fabric of his dressing gown falling away from his pelvis, exposing his pubes and large pinkish cock. The organ slid upwards, its head touching the man’s scrotum. He didn’t miss the chance and quickly closed his thighs, taking the cock in his girth. Jungkook was obviously aroused when the thin skin on his cock was pressed against the inside of his thighs. Licking his other nipple as well, the man stroked his hand all over his body and, reaching his solar plexus, moved even lower, encircling the hot organ in a ring of slippery fingers. Jungkook stretched his neck, nearly falling off the bed. The stranger’s hands grabbed his wrists just in time and pulled him back. “Do you like it?” Jeon didn’t realise when they switched to “you”, but he was quickly drawn in. “Yes,” he nodded and gritted his teeth when the man, caressing his cock where it was close to his pubic bone, unclenched his hips and pulled away. “Good,” he whispered and, swallowing hard from the saliva that filled his mouth, he stroked Jungkook’s tight waist, squeezing the muscles in his sides almost lovingly. His fingers were thin, but there was a lot of strength lurking in them. Bending over, he scorched Jungkook’s cock with his breath, saying with a huff: “Keep your eyes open.” Then, grabbing the excited guy by the hips, he swallowed his cock with a loud squelch. “Fuck!” Jungkook shrieked, feeling a terrible, almost painful pleasure shoot through his back and his whole body. “Don’t close your eyes,” the man repeated, pulling away from the hard organ and licking it juicily. The thread of saliva that stretched between his lips and the pink head was lewdly licked away by a mouth that twisted into a grin. The ceiling was covered in a shroud. Jungkook’s breathing was ragged, almost choking on his own saliva, and his hips thrust forward against the hot, burning cavity. The man ran his tongue back and forth, from wrapping it around the head and licking it almost to the point of redness, to piling it on top and pushing his tongue into the thin slit of the urethra. His fingers came in handy, and he pulled back the foreskin and stroked the entire cock from top to bottom with a broad, strong stroke. Jungkook shook, and he tucked his toes in and moaned in pleasure. The man gave one last lick to his excited, jerking cock and then lifted himself up and hovered over Jungkook, who was shamefully wet from all the craziness. After stroking his red face with his thick, dishevelled hair sticking to his skin, the stranger reached out and picked up the lube along with a strip of three condoms. “Give me your hand,” he asked, and Jeon, barely moving his limbs, held out his palm. Pouring the cool, thick liquid over it, the man warmed it, interlocking their palms together and pulling Jungkook up by the shoulder, forcing him to sit up. Moving closer, he bit down on the cartilage on the boy’s ear and, with an exhale of a kiss, guided the wet palm behind his back. Jungkook’s fingers touched the wrinkled warm skin and he flinched, immediately regaining his ability to see. A thin collarbone and pale skin with a neat black tattoo appeared before his eyes that swam with excitement. Leaf blades…or feathers? Jungkook never realised, for in the same instant his fingers pushed inside and were consumed by the heat. There was a thin, barely audible moan above his head, which the man interrupted immediately by sinking his teeth into Jungkook’s scruff. With his whole body pressing down on the guy beneath him like a trap, he squeezed his fingers harder, almost to the point of turning blue, and pushed deeper, stretching out like a heron and muffled mooing. “Fuck,” he said, breathing heavily, slobbering into the bare nape of Jeon’s neck and shaking like a madman. He leaned his forehead against Jungkook’s chin and ordered in a hoarse, broken tone. “Use your fingers. Yeah, that’s it. Fucking good, my boy.” “My boy?” Jungkook, hearing this through the shroud of loud incessant moans, felt his stomach tense up and it only got worse down below. The pain was tightening so much that he didn’t know where to put himself anymore. This was the first time he’d ever had sex like this. “Fucking hell,” he mumbled, nearly falling backwards onto the bed. Thankfully, the man’s hands were holding him so tightly that he almost couldn’t move. Spreading his scissor fingers apart, Jungkook reached for the lips quivering right in front of his face and immediately found himself stiffly bitten. The man moved closer and pulled his bottom lip away, pushing his tongue deep inside, which skilfully stroked Jungkook’s gums and entwined with his tongue, forcing them both to press as close to each other as possible. “Fuck, I’m dripping like a waterfall,” the man hissed, chewing on Jungkook’s lips like a sweet candy. “You mean sweat?” He looked up at Jungkook’s naive and panting gaze and grinned, sliding his hand down to his hot, wet cock. “I meant the cock.” Jeon was embarrassed, blushing even more. He definitely looked like a fresh tomato now. “Hand me the condom,” Jeon’s lips were red and swollen, and the man lifted himself off Jeon’s feet, taking the blister and tearing it open. Carefully he began to pull the latex over the guy’s penis, caressing the bulging veins with his fingertips. When it was done, the man put his arm around Jungkook’s shoulders and pressed his face against him, looking intently and intensely into his eyes. For a second, there was silence in the room. “Have you ever had sex like this before?” “No,” Jungkook answered honestly. The man grinned, stroking his cheek with his fingers. “Then I was lucky.” After saying that, he lifted himself up and straddled the guy’s cock and sat on it sharply, exhaling gutturally and long. Jungkook seemed to have lost contact with the Earth. Everything blurred before his eyes, leaving only sensations and the blazing breath of the man who had completely captured him in his snare. “I’ll move,” he said, pulling his hair back from his forehead and straightening up. “And me?” whispered Jungkook, looking straight into his eyes. The man felt that helpless look, full of desire and uncertain pleading, and it caused a strange ripple deep inside his body. He would have fucked up half the planet for that look. “You?” Wrapping his arms around the back of the guy’s neck, he touched his lips to his soaked forehead and ran his tongue along his temple. “Ha.” Leaning over the red ear, the man threw hoarsely: “Breathe.” Lifting his hips, he thrust sharply onto his cock. The bed shook, hitting the frame against the wall. The man moved wetly and quickly, the guy’s long cock slipping out of him constantly, which was incredibly annoying and at the same time mind-blowingly exciting. Every slap as the lube squelched between their bodies made him want to thrust harder. To thrust so hard that tears spurted from both of their eyes. And so he did. “Ah!” Jeon cried out as the thrusts deepened and the other man’s warmth squeezed him harder, and he pressed his face against the man’s collarbone and sobbed. Sweat rolled down his face in hailstones. The fingers digging into Jungkook’s shoulders left distinct red marks on his skin. In a couple of hours, there would definitely be some nasty, prickly bruises coming out there. Moving closer to the pillows, they kissed again. The man kept bouncing up and down, lifting his large hips, while his wet through cock continued to plunge into the slippery firm anus. A tune they had both forgotten about burrowed into their ears, smoothing out the atmosphere. Languidly covering his eyes, the man leaned on Jungkook’s penis and made a few more sharp hard thrusts. From the outside, it looked like he was bouncing on him like he was bouncing on a beach rubber ball. Jungkook slammed his eyelids shut so hard that his eyeballs immediately recoiled in pain. The hands clutching the man’s hips slid down his smooth body and lightly tickled the erect beads of pink nipples. “Fuck…” the man muttered, succumbing to those tantalising caresses. After absorbing a few more spurts of thrusts, he collapsed onto Jungkook’s body, pressing himself against the bed, and barely touching his straining cock with his hand, he moaned hotly into his ear and cummed. Jeon felt his ribs squeeze and he thrust his hips up, catching the moment. Two short thrusts, one deep, filling the entire space. Jungkook pressed his lips to the exposed area of the man’s neck and hugged him, cumming hard, his breath panting greedily. They pulled away from each other and collapsed in relief on the crumpled bed, breaking the silence of the room with heavy long sighs. Jungkook wiped away the tears that had collected in the corners of his eyes and looked up at the white ceiling, placing a hand on his stomach and stroking it lightly. The stupor subsided, and it was only after a few minutes that he felt how much his whole body ached. But it was unforgettable. “Are you going to take a shower?” A low, handsome voice came from his right. Jeon turned his head and looked at the softened face of a man whose previously cold beauty had fallen away, revealing a warm beauty. He shook his head. “Let you go first.” “Okay.” The man rose on trembling elbows and, swaying slightly, slowly wandered toward the shower with towel in hand and terrycloth dressing gown. Jeon rushed to help him, but stopped himself when the man’s back straightened proudly. He clearly didn’t need his help. Jeon buried his nose in his pillow and looked at the time. Half past five. It was still dark outside the window. The man came out of the shower ten minutes later. He looked much fresher than he had before. Going into the bedroom, he quickly assessed the situation: during the time he washed, the guy had managed to put some order and now sat on the bed, scratching his palms nervously. “Go wash up.” Jungkook tore his eyes away from the soft pile carpet and nodded, dashing off to the bathroom. The man chuckled as he followed the naked arse out the door. With a sigh, he sank onto the bed and closed his eyes, inhaling the tangy smell of sex clinging to the bedclothes. Jungkook quickly rinsed himself and squeezed shampoo out of a small tube and shampooed his hair, which smelled disgustingly of dirt and sweat. When he was done, he washed his face, looking in the mirror and looking at his scratched and bitten body. It looked unpleasant, probably. In any case, everything about his body looked unpleasant, so it was normal. Quickly drying his hair, he pulled his dressing gown over his shoulders and opened the door. The stranger seemed to be deeply dozing off. Jungkook was determined to do everything quietly. Picking up his belongings from the chair, he put on his trousers and carefully buckled his belt plaque. Struggling to pull on his turtleneck, the guy grudgingly wrinkled his nose when the fabric touched the wounds on his back. With a sigh, he put on his shoes and jacket and walked to the door, switching off the lights in the corridor. A rustling sound came from the bedroom. Jungkook’s stomach jumped and he walked out the door, mindlessly rambling one last time: “Goodbye.” The door closed tightly behind him. *** When he got on the train, Jungkook made himself comfortable in his seat and rummaged through his bag and pulled out a still-hot kimchi flatbread. He had liked it so much yesterday. Unwrapping it, he took a big bite and closed his eyes in pleasure as the dough crunched in his mouth. The train moved after twenty minutes. Looking at the stations and railway tracks whizzing past, Jeon couldn’t help but think back to the quiet ride to the hotel. It had been amazing, really. And the man had been good, passionate. Jungkook was grateful to him. But everything came to an end sooner or later. Dawn was dawning outside the window. Jungkook smiled with the corners of his cracked, dry lips and continued to eat his flatbread, drinking a bottle of banana milk. As soon as Jeon arrived in Seoul, he immediately took a taxi home. The driver was kind and talkative, Jeon discussed a few topics with him and left a tip in gratitude. In the flat he’d lived in for six years, a cool breeze blew across the floor. “Fuck, I forgot to close the window before I left,” Jungkook thought as he slammed the window open. He was still wearing his jacket before the temperature in the flat returned to normal. Setting the silent phone aside on the edge of his desk, Jungkook quickly looked around. He wanted to clean up today. Filling a basin with water and mixing a few products in there, the guy took out a dry rag and started dusting. He cleaned the mirrors, the tables, barely reached the top shelves in the kitchen. Unplugged the refrigerator and other appliances. Cleaned out the bookcase. “I should have taken these to the library,” he muttered aloud, looking at the stacks of new books. “Well, maybe someone will take them back later.” He even cleaned the floor under the couch he hadn’t pushed back in so long. There was a lot of dust, that was for sure. Well, Jeon had never been much for cleanliness, but today was a special day. When all the cleaning chores were done, he heard a ringtone coming from the other room. The phone. Jungkook hurried over to it and when he saw the unfamiliar number on the screen, he sniffed his nose, dismissing it at the same second. After that, he pulled out the sim card from the phone and placed it next to the extinguished screen. Everything howled desperately in his chest for some reason. Grasping the edge of the table with his fingers, he lowered his chin and closed his suddenly wet eyes tightly. A wheeze tried to escape his throat, but Jeon quickly suppressed it. There was no fear. There was bloody pity. “Okay, okay, stop sobbing,” he said to himself, shaking his hands. He walked around the flat one more time, going through the clothes in the wardrobe, throwing the dirty ones in the wash and leaving them there. Standing in the middle of the corridor, he scratched his eyebrow, remembering what else he had to do. “Oh, right. Gotta check to see how much was left in there.” Walking into the kitchen, he opened the top drawer and reached for the first aid kit. Rummaging around inside, Jungkook fumbled for a white plastic jar. The label, slightly yellowed from time, had one word clearly printed on it. Sleeping Pills. Jungkook unscrewed the lid and peered inside, counting how many pills were left. Ten. “Well, that’s enough,” the guy shrugged and put the pills on the table and went into the living room. A little worried, he decided to do yoga. Taking out a leaflet with exercises, which three years ago was given to him by a colleague at work, saying that it would be good for him to get in shape, Jeon stretched into a cat pose and froze like that for a few minutes, immediately feeling all the muscles, which were still burning after the previous night. After ten minutes, Jungkook was exhausted. Stretching out on the mat, he panted loudly, wiping drops of sweat from his forehead, and placed a hand on his bubbling stomach. “Maybe he should go and eat some ramen.” He was out of the empty, cold flat in literally six minutes. There were rarely any people walking down the street. It was a day off after all, and it was also so early in the morning. Going to the nearest convenience store, Jungkook chose the spiciest ramen, bought a couple more cheeses that could be melted and added to the portion, got onigiri with tuna and avocado, and a light iced soda. There was a young girl at the cash register who always occasionally glanced over at the guy pouring hot water into the carton. When he was done with all the preparations, Jungkook sat down at a table in the shop and dipped his chopsticks into the hot, spicy broth and tasted the noodles. Delicious. Several cars whizzed by. Jungkook finished his ramen and after buying a tub of berry ice cream, he left the mini-market, heading for the empty playground. Unpacking the ice cream, he licked it with the tip of his tongue and smiled faintly, taking a bigger bite. The sweet topping, more like melted caramel, pleasantly cooled his mouth. Jungkook was slowly swinging on the creaking swing when someone touched his elbow. Turning around, he saw a girl of about ten years old. The child’s smiling face made Jungkook raise his eyebrows. He put away the ice cream he just wanted to take a bite of and asked: “Did you want something?” “Why are you eating ice cream in this cold, Ahjussi?” The question threw Jungkook into confusion. “Why can’t I?” The girl pouted her lips and straightened the bottom of her dress-style down jacket and sat on a nearby swing, continuing to watch him intently. “You’re going to get sick.” Jeon hummed and brushed it off. “It’s not a big deal.” Kids were always too curious, so Jeon wasn’t surprised to be picked on. “My brother ate ice cream too, and then he got sick,” the girl said in a quiet voice as she tried to swing, but her legs were weak, so she couldn’t push off. “Did he get better?” Jungkook asked, deciding to keep the conversation going. “No, he died six months ago.” The ice cream Jeon was about to bring to his mouth stopped halfway. With widened eyes, looking at the serene face of the child who was talking about her own brother’s death, he pressed his lips together. The girl exhaled when the sway failed and looked at him again with her big brown eyes. “So you don’t get sick either, Ahjussi.” “I’m sorry.” The girl smiled. She touched the ponytails hidden under her hat and shook her head. “Why are you sitting here? This is a playground for children.” Jungkook looked around at the slides and other various children’s activities and sniffed his reddish nose. “No reason. I like this place.” The girl laughed loudly. “I like this place too. We come here with mom almost every day. She doesn’t like it when I go on the slide, but I love it.” “Is your mum a good person?” Jungkook’s eyes watched every change of emotion on the child’s face. The girl smiled radiantly again. “Yeah, mum’s a good person. Sometimes she gets angry, but that’s only when Daddy scolds her,” she leaned over and folded her palm into a boat and whispered as if she was going to tell him a secret. “When Daddy scolds Mummy, she always cries. And her face is always so red. And blue sometimes. But Mum says it’s all right. I love Mum, but I don’t love Dad. He’s always so angry.” Fuck. Jungkook covered his face with his hand and sniffled again. The girl shuddered and was startled when she saw the tears in his eyes that he was trying so hard to wipe away. “Are you crying, ahjussi? Hurry up and eat your ice cream, but don’t cry!” “It’s okay, it’s okay,” Jeon nodded, taking another bite of the ice cream that had melted. The girl smiled again and flopped down on the swing. “You’re such a crybaby, ahjussi.” Ha. Jungkook grinned. “Yeah, I’m such a whiner.” “It’s okay to cry, ahjussi, that’s what mum says. So if you want to cry, go ahead and cry, but my mum will be back soon, if she sees you crying, she’ll think I hurt you, so don’t cry.” Jungkook laughed hoarsely and cringed when his throat felt unpleasantly scratchy. “You make up your mind whether I should cry or not.” “Then don’t cry. No one should make you cry.” Nothing could be heard on the playground except the long creak of the swing. “Do you think I’m a good person?” The girl shrugged her shoulders and scuffed the toe of her small shoe on the slush that had formed under the swing. “Ahjussi can smile, so ahjussi is a good person.” “Insy?!” A voice rang out across the street, and Jeon turned his head and saw a concerned adult woman rushing over. The girl jumped away from the swing and rushed towards her. “Mum!” “Who is that guy?” In a rough voice, the woman whispered in the girl’s ear, grabbing her hood, but the girl immediately dispelled her excitement. “He’s just eating ice cream, Mum. Don’t swear.” The woman sighed, fixing the pink hat that had slipped down over the girl’s eyebrows, and looked at Jungkook guiltily. “Please forgive her, she’s such a prater…” “It’s okay,” Jungkook waved his hand as he got down from the swing and put the ice cream wrapper in his pocket. “Keep an eye on her, she’s a rambunctious one.” The woman smiled softly, grabbing her daughter’s hand. “Sorry again.” “Goodbye, ahjussi!” Insy shouted, turning around as her mother started to lead her home. Jungkook waved his hand. After waiting until the two figures disappeared and the street was empty again, he turned around and leisurely strode down the road home. Every step at that moment felt as if his feet were filled with concrete. The shops around him that had just opened, their signs flashing, the hundreds of cars driving along the roads, the traffic lights changing colours every minute. Everything at that moment burned so brightly, as if he was seeing it for the first time. People were smiling. He could smile too, couldn’t he? He could smile like they did. He could eat in bakeries without worrying whether or not he’d gain weight by tomorrow morning; he could sit quietly in a playground without worrying about being looked at askew; he could eat breakfast noodles in a convenience store without worrying about how much space he was taking up. Could live without caring how painful the past was. His constant “tomorrow” could happen today. Jungkook walked, clutching the unfortunate ice cream scoop in his pocket, and thought. Thinking, thinking, thinking. A heavy rock, covered in dirty snow, came under his foot, and Jungkook had to walk around it, taking his eyes off the ground. He looked up, and his breathing quickened. A familiar Audi stood outside the driveway, and beside it, leaning against the door, was a familiar silhouette. A thin cigarette, a trickle of dense white smoke wafting upwards. A profile of cold beauty hiding a sweltering warmth. Jungkook froze like that in the middle of the street, staring in front of him. The man at this time was gazing intently at the house, and after noticing some movement with his peripheral vision, he lazily turned his head. His cloudy eyes brightened. He quickly extinguished the cigarette butt in a folding ashtray and, shaking off a thin layer of snowflakes from his hands, straightened up, walking towards Jeon. The same slightly wrinkled white shirt and gold watch dangled weakly from his wrist. The stranger stopped in front of Jungkook, staring at his face for a second before digging into his pocket and holding out something. Jeon lowered his eyes and saw in his pale palm a black ribbon with four photographs on it. On each of them was just him alone. “I found these on the floor by the bed.” Jungkook took the photos and looked at the man again. His hair was sloppy, his face pale with red cheeks and the tip of his nose pink. It felt like he had just gotten out of bed. “Do you have a teleporter?” The man stretched his lips in a smile, just shrugged. “No. Just an Audi.” Jungkook crumpled uncertainly in place and poked his tongue at the inside of his cheek. “Thank you,” he thanked sincerely. The man stared at him motionlessly. When he opened his lips, he blurted out softly: “Kim Taehyung.” The guy shuddered and nodded after swallowing. “Thank you, Kim Taehyung. And I’m…” “Jeon Jungkook. I know.” The awkward silence made Jeon bite his lip nervously. Kim Taehyung continued to burn him with an unabashedly sticky gaze and, after thinking of something, said confidently: “Just a “thank you” isn’t enough.” Jungkook reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet as the man immediately intercepted his wrist and took another step closer. Now they were looking each other straight in the eyes. Clouds drifted across the cold autumn sky. “Do you want to go to Greece?” Jungkook froze, unable to find the words. Taehyung’s fingers were so icy, he couldn’t help but shiver. But his eyes. Eyes covered by lashes that were slightly tingling in the cold; eyes looking straight at him. His eyes were warm. “I want to,” came off his lips. The man didn’t loosen his grip, but pulled back a little, allowing him to breathe again. Raising his other hand, he gently stroked the back of Jungkook’s palm, red from the constant scratching. Catching his thumb, Kim Taehyung gently pulled him towards the car parked alone on the deserted street. “Let’s go then.” “Tomorrow…” “No tomorrow,” Taehyung interrupted him. “Let’s go today.” And he pulled him along as lightly as if Jungkook weighed no more than a feather. “It’s cold today,” Jeon said, lifting his head and putting his face into the strong wind. Kim Taehyung hummed, brushing soft strands of hair away from his face. “That’s okay. I’ll keep you warm.” The man’s voice sounded quiet, but even the noisy, gusty wind couldn’t drown it out.