shoes

Seungmin has always liked things that everyone labeled as “feminine”. He saw no point in it. Why do people associate a certain design with only one gender? Why do people even care what others look like? Isn’t it enough to wear clothes that you consider comfortable and allow others to do the same? “Feminine” clothing seemed comfortable to him. It gave freedom in some moments, and its design usually attracted Seungmin more than clothes that wore guys around. “Feminine” clothing usually meant softer fabric, more pleasant colors and beautiful patterns, ruches and ruffles, which he also found very cute… Also, “feminine” clothing usually meant certain restrictions in the size range, but Seungmin was lucky to have a suitable figure so all these clothes didn’t look ridiculous on him. It was a little more difficult with shoes… It was difficult to find a pair of beautiful size forty-four shoes. It was difficult, but it wasn’t impossible. Oh, and of course, “feminine” clothing meant that he would be looked at strangely if he put it on the street, if he took some cute skirts to try on in a store, or if in the shoe department, he was interested in the opposite side from all these respectable men in suits. That’s why he wore all these clothes only at home, where only one person saw him, and that’s why he bought all these clothes only through online stores. Online shopping really was his salvation. It provided more choice and hid from the judgmental glances of customers and cute girl consultants climbing into someone else’s life. But online stores also had one drawback. Seungmin was too impatient for it. As soon as he ordered a new thing, he immediately wanted to see it in his closet, but he had to wait until the order was made the hard way from the other side of the city and Seungmin finally could hold it in his hands and try it on. This was somewhat depressing because he didn’t know until the end whether the new thing would suit him and whether it would look beautiful on him. But it’s just small difficulties that he had to face in order to feel happy. Happy. That’s how he felt when he could wear things that he liked. He liked “manly” clothes too — strict suits, plain shirts, straight trousers and leather oxfords. And there was no problem with that. But for some reason, it appeared with flying dresses, skirts with ruffles, and high-heeled shoes. It’s exactly the same clothing, and Seungmin didn’t understand why he should feel ashamed for wearing it. After all, he’s not some sick-in-the-head jerk who walks down the street naked, is he? Then why blame him? There’s nothing to blame Seungmin for. His love for “unusual” clothes is tender and tremulous, there is nothing wrong or perverted about it. And he doesn’t understand at all what all these people in the shops were thinking when they saw him going to the fitting room. Really, what’s the big deal? All people have different tastes. Some people like bitter chocolate, some people like milk chocolate, and some people can’t stand it at all, but after all, no one in a supermarket looks with contempt at someone who buys two different bars. Then why did Seungmin get those looks in clothing stores? But, anyway, soon after Seungmin discovered online shopping, he almost stopped going to shopping malls for something other than that ill-fated “manly” clothes. Contempt and disgust in his life became much less, but in fact, he didn’t take it all to heart. Yes, it was a little unpleasant that people looked at him as a war criminal, but the main thing was that there was always a man waiting for him at home who simply couldn’t look at him like that. And Seungmin felt very happy now when he returned to him with another order. He was already burning with impatience. He could only try on the purchase at home because he convinced the employee at the pick-up point that this was a gift for his girlfriend. Which, of course, he didn’t have. And he didn’t even pay for the purchase with his own money, so, technically, it was a gift to him. Seungmin opens the doors turning the key with one hand, and with the other trying to hold the heavy box and not to drop it on the concrete floor of the landing. The apartment greets him with a pleasant smell of fresh pastries and… cinnamon. Yes, it seems that this was the very signature recipe for cinnamon buns that Jungsu’s mother shared with him. And Jungsu, in turn, shared it with Seungmin, but, however, they almost burned down the kitchen in the process… “I’m back!” Seungmin shouts, closing the door so that Jungsu can hear him from the kitchen. Seungmin carefully puts the box on the pouffe, that stands right by the rug in the hallway. He throws the keys into the top drawer of the closet and slips out of his shoes. Jungsu comes out of the kitchen. A towel is hanging on his shoulder, the apron is stained with flour and splattered with dark little spots, and his hair is tied in a ponytail — the length is barely enough for a sparse short tail low on the back of his head. Seungmin leaves a short welcoming kiss on his sweet lips and smiles brightly, pulling away. He wraps his arms around Jungsu’s neck, but still keeps a small distance between their bodies so as not to get his own clothes dirty in the spray of dough. They seem to be in the perfect position to dance when Jungsu’s palm gently rests on his waist and Seungmin giggles softly. Jungsu gives him another gentle kiss on the corner of his lips before turning his gaze to the pouf on which today’s purchase lies. “I really want to try it on!” Seungmin trembles with admiration. “I hope it’ll suit me… It’s very beautiful.” “I believe, I believe,” Jungsu laughs. “Shall we go?” Seungmin nods curtly, picking up the box from the pouf. They go to the kitchen together, Seungmin puts the box on the chair and even manages to open the lid, but suddenly he comes up with something. He has one thing suitable for these shoes, and he wants to try it on with this thing. So he has to leave Jungsu alone in the kitchen again. Seungmin finds the thing he needs in the bottom drawer of the bedroom closet and returns to Jungsu, who has already gotten a baking tray with buns from the oven and is now patiently waiting for his boyfriend. Seungmin sits down and first of all, gets down to the thing he pulled out of the bedroom closet — white knee socks with a patterned texture and lush frills on the top. It slides easily over his legs but looks ridiculously funny in combination with the long sports shorts that he is wearing now. But it’s not that important. He carefully takes one shoe out of the box, rustling the paper inside. It is very pleasant to the touch — really genuine leather, no deceit. And it feels comfortable on the foot. Maybe it’s a little small, but if Seungmin wears it longer, then tightness won’t feel at all. The design is simple and concise. Black color, massive platform, medium height thick heel, and a minimum of details — only one wide strap and white stitching at the bottom. The shoes are really very beautiful, and in combination with these white knee socks on his feet look just perfect. Seungmin bends down to fasten the strap. The buckle barely slides along the strip of leather, and when the strap finally sits tight enough, the buckle tongue doesn’t want to rise up in any way to pass through the hole and securely fix the fastening. Seungmin tries several times, but can’t pick it up. He scratches his fingertips painfully, the ill-fated buckle tongue even gets stuck under his nail, and Seungmin puffs, slowly losing his last hope. “Help me, please,” he whimpers. In this position his hands are already beginning to go numb — all the blood seems to rush to them and pull them straight to the floor with its weight. The back, bent by a comma, also aches a little… He hears how Jungsu makes a worried sound on his exhale but doesn’t respond to his request. The only answer is the creaking of a chair and quiet footsteps. Jungsu slowly approaches him and kneels down. Seungmin finally unbends, straightens his back, and clutches the chair under him with his hands. Jungsu’s fingers turn out to be much quicker than his own and deal with the strap on the first attempt. Jungsu rests his hands on Seungmin’s knees, briefly examines the shod foot in front of him, and then reaches for the box and pulls out the second shoe. His hand, warm and soft, carefully wraps around the ankle while he puts the shoe on Seungmin. It takes him quite a bit of time to fasten the strap on the left shoe, making sure that it sits firmly enough, but doesn’t squeeze the foot. In the end, Jungsu corrects the knee socks, pulls them up, destroys the formed folds, and straightens the ruffles on the elastic band. He isn’t in a hurry to get to his feet. Instead, Jungsu presses his lips to Seungmin’s knee, closer to the inner part, where there is a faded and barely noticeable mole. The kiss is a little long for such a place, but none of them mind. Jungsu’s lips are soft and slightly moist, he closes his eyes while Seungmin tries to find his lost breath. His heart is pounding really fast, and a blush is rapidly flooding his cheeks. Seungmin tightens his fingers on the upholstery of the chair and just forgets to breathe. “Done,” Jungsu says softly, pulling away. “Is it comfortable?” Seungmin doesn’t immediately realize that he asked for something. He nods in response, stunned, no longer able to look anywhere but Jungsu’s face. Jungsu stands up and holds out his hand. Seungmin hesitantly squeezes it in his palm and allows Jungsu to lift him from the chair. Because of the platform and heels, he is almost half a head taller than Jungsu, he looks down from above and blindly follows him, making circles in the small kitchen and trying out new shoes. Probably, he should concentrate on the sensations in his feet, he should understand whether the edge of the shoes doesn’t rest against the bone, whether the toe doesn’t pinch, and whether the shoes are too narrow when he stands. But he can’t. Even if he was wearing the most uncomfortable stilettos in his life right now, on a fifteen-centimeter heel and a size smaller than he needed, he wouldn’t have noticed it. Jungsu holds his palms in his, looks straight into his eyes, and smiles broadly. Seungmin would be happy to bring home a new shoe box every day, as long as Jungsu smiled at him like that every time. And he always did that when Seungmin showed his purchases. There were no exceptions. Jungsu smiled happily, even if the thing frankly didn’t fit and had to be handed back the next day. Perhaps Jungsu’s reaction is the part that made Seungmin the happiest. Beauty, comfort, and euphoria from the acquisition are, of course, fine, but Kim Jungsu and his soft smile are better. “Are you satisfied?” Jungsu asks softly, stopping. He raises their hands a little higher, tightly intertwines his fingers with Seungmin’s, and reduces the distance between their bodies to a minimum. Seungmin leans into his face, freezing dangerously close to his lips. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Thanks.” “You’re welcome,” Jungsu smiles back. “Baby.” Seungmin feels that he is blushing again because of such an affectionate nickname, and he definitely forgot to take a couple of breaths — and to kiss faintly shiny plump lips, although actually, this is what he was going to do just a second ago. Those lips are slipping right out from under his nose, but he doesn’t notice it, continuing to scroll through the last word in his head. “It will look good with black straight trousers, right?” Jungsu says softly, forcing Seungmin to finally come back to reality. He only now notices that Jungsu is suddenly much further away than he was a couple of seconds ago, although still close. His gaze is no longer fixed on Seungmin’s face, instead, he looks down at their feet. And it takes too long for Seungmin to figure out what he’s talking about. It’s not that he couldn’t remember his trousers, no, it’s just that thoughts didn’t want to appear in his head for a long time, leaving it shamefully empty. “Or that white mini skirt with a high waist and frills to go with the knee socks?” Jungsu offers again, thoughtfully lowering his eyebrows to the bridge of his nose. Seungmin can’t bring himself to think about how these shoes would look with trousers and a skirt. Usually, pictures easily appeared in his head and often turned out to be close to the truth, but now… now there is an absolute emptiness in his head, in which “Baby” continues to repeat in a gentle whisper. Jungsu said it with such love in his voice that Seungmin would probably have stumbled if they hadn’t stopped earlier. That emotion in his voice… It’s so obvious and makes it clear that in this small cozy apartment, where freshly baked cinnamon buns smell, Seungmin is loved, supported, and accepted for who he is, with all his habits and genuine interest in women’s clothing. And shoes, of course, too. “Or maybe a pencil skirt?” Jungsu asks again. His gaze slowly rises up, lingering briefly on Seungmin’s hips, and he looks with such undisguised adoration straight into his eyes that Seungmin difficulty swallows viscous saliva. Jungsu seems to be waiting for an answer. His eyes are calm but interested, his head is tilted sideways just a little expectantly, and he is silent, just smiling gently. But Seungmin really can’t find the words, he can’t even find the answer to the question. Which of the three offers sounds best? Straight trousers? A mini skirt with a frill? Pencil skirt? Seungmin can’t even remember what all these things look like. The smiling face of his boyfriend is just in front of him. How can he think of anything else? Other pictures just can’t be allowed into his head right now. Face control is too tight. “Although, you know, with these shorts, it also looks quite… interesting,” Jungsu says with a gasp. His smile turns into a grin, but not an evil one, no, by no means. A small, beautiful grin crumbles from his lips as soon as he drops a couple of quiet and absolutely cute laughs. Seungmin can’t help himself. Seeing Jungsu like this, he can only smile like an idiot and think wow, how lucky he is to live with such a nice guy and see him laugh like that on a regular basis, how lucky he is to be the cause of a wide smile on the face of such a wonderful person and how nice it is to receive it. Laughing, Jungsu lets go of Seungmin’s hands but instead pulls him closer in a warm embrace. When they hugged, Seungmin liked to nuzzle into the curve of the native neck, but now for this, he would have to bend in the back and not fall off his heels, so he just remained standing straight, gently hugging Jungsu back and allowing him to leave a couple of kisses on the neck covered with goosebumps. His lips rise a little higher and stop at his ear. Jungsu’s breathing is warm, and rapid and sends electrical discharges down the spine when it settles by touching the skin. “I love you,” he whispers softly, but it sounds so loud and exciting, like the chimes on New Year’s Eve. And goosebumps crawl on the skin, like hundreds of colored sparks across the night sky. Jungsu has said these simple, important words so many times, but Seungmin’s reaction has always remained unchanged. It’s such bliss, and no pleasure from buying new things can compare with it. Every time Seungmin just can’t believe that Jungsu is truly real, that he is not just his invention and unfulfilled dream. Jungsu is perfect in his sincerity, love, and support, and Seungmin can’t remember why he was afraid to reveal this side of himself to him at all. Seungmin hugs him tighter, the restless pounding of his heart probably reverberates with thuds in another chest. He whispers haltingly, “I love you too,” taking a step back to the wide countertop, but in this boundless love and comfort, he forgets about the heels on his feet. It’s thick and stable, but Seungmin still manages to stumble, forcing one of the heels to slip along the floor with a vertical edge. A sudden fear shoots through his chest, but Seungmin doesn’t fall and doesn’t twist his leg, despite his fears, because Jungsu holds him tightly in his arms. “Watch out, baby,” he says worriedly. At the same time, the fear finally lets go of Seungmin, and he puts his foot back in its proper position. Jungsu helps him take the remaining couple of steps to the kitchen set. Seungmin is momentarily confused by the fact that the rounded edge of the countertop rests against his buttocks, not his lower back. But he carefully sits on it, not finding a better option. The water droplets remaining on the wiped surface are absorbed into the fabric of the shorts, making it cool and sticky, but Seungmin doesn’t pay attention to this. Now he is absolutely sure that he won’t lose his balance, absurdly sprawled in the middle of the room in new shoes. Jungsu wedges himself between slightly separated knees, surprisingly, without even being indignant and not lamenting that the table on which they cook food is an unsuitable place for the ass in street shorts with a bunch of bacteria and germs. Instead, he rests his palms on the table on either side of Seungmin’s hips and finally kisses him on the lips. The kiss is unhurried, gentle, and soft — everything is as Jungsu loves. The taste of cinnamon is clearly felt on his lips — apparently, he has already tasted his pastries. Seungmin enjoys this taste, covering his eyes and squeezing the wide home shirt on Jungsu’s shoulders with his fingers. And it doesn’t matter at all whether that girl at the pick-up point believed in his fictional story or considered him a sick pervert. It doesn’t matter to Seungmin as long as he has someone who accepts him for who he is, someone who kisses him so that he feels dizzy, someone who bakes him buns according to a family recipe, and someone who just loves him.