Smile More Often

“Guess what? You’re going on vacation!” With those words, Jun-Ho burst into his older brother’s apartment — unexpected, yet completely confident, as if the place belonged to him. In-Ho slowly turned his head. “No,” he replied quietly. “Come on, you seriously need a change of scenery,” Jun-Ho said, nearly tripping over his own pant leg as he pulled the curtains apart. “You’ll like it, I promise!” Bright sunlight instantly flooded the small bedroom. In-Ho squinted. He couldn’t remember the last time sunlight had felt so simple… so carefree. Or maybe he just hadn’t noticed. For the past few years, the older Hwang had been living as if in permanent half-darkness — closed curtains, closed doors… and himself. In-Ho had never liked surprises. He preferred stability and rarely went outside — out there, where strangers might look into his empty eyes and find no trace of a happy life. “…I already said,” he sighed heavily, turning away from the light, “I’m not going.” But if he thought his younger brother would back off that easily, he was deeply mistaken. With a soft rustle, a colorful flyer landed on the table — a solo trip to Jeju Island. “I already booked your ticket for this weekend,” Jun-Ho continued, leaning a little closer. “You’ll stay in a nice room, relax, stop being a grumpy old man… and maybe even meet someone.” He said the last part with a playful tone. Meet someone…? For a moment, In-Ho paused. He could hardly remember how to start conversations with new people, build friendships, let someone into his life… and feel that long-forgotten flutter of a heart in love. “Hyung,” a gentle hand touched his shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts. “I know it’s hard for you to get close to someone again… but life doesn’t stand still. You deserve to be happy.” In response, there was silence. Jun-Ho knew his older brother always preferred to deal with things on his own — too proud to admit he sometimes needed help. And yet, a couple of days later, early in the morning, In-Ho stood at the airport terminal entrance, nervously gripping the handle of his wheeled suitcase. …Hope I won’t regret this. Jeju Island welcomed him with scorching sun and a cloudless sky. The sea air smelled of salt, someone’s sunscreen… and sweet desserts from a nearby bakery. Crowds of cheerful people passed by — in shorts, bucket hats, bright towels slung over their shoulders. Some laughed, others were already sipping cocktails on the go. In-Ho, meanwhile, felt like he had wandered into someone else’s world by mistake. He took a taxi to the hotel, silently watching through the window as life buzzed along every kilometer. Bright shop signs, low houses, noisy cafés, bicycles… At some point, Hwang even caught himself smiling faintly, drawn in by that simple, peaceful carefreeness. But the smile quickly faded as the car reached its destination. And no, it wasn’t the building itself — something inside In-Ho tightened again. Because he had no idea how to “relax” properly. On the very first evening, Hwang made it clear he had no intention of interacting with anyone. He sat in the farthest corner of the bar and ordered whiskey on the rocks. The ice clinked softly against the glass. The cool liquid burned pleasantly down his throat. The night could have passed quietly, just like hundreds before it. But suddenly, someone’s loud laughter cut through his thoughts. In-Ho glanced up involuntarily. At the bar stood a man with messy hair and an overly lively, cheerful gaze. He was taking big gulps of beer, telling something animatedly to the bartender — and laughing at his own jokes. The bartender looked like he was dreaming of escape from the relentless monologue. Something twinged under In-Ho’s ribs. Irritation… or a strange kind of interest? He kept watching the stranger. He was too loud — but oddly, not unpleasant. On the contrary, the noise of his laughter somehow drowned out In-Ho’s own thoughts. And for a few seconds… it felt easier. The man turned. Their eyes met. He smiled, as if he’d seen something he liked. “Hey!” he called out. “You’re staring at me like I owe you money!” In-Ho blinked, glancing down at his glass — but it was too late. The stranger had already walked over, setting his beer on the table, a few drops splashing onto the polished surface. “Mind if I?” he asked — and sat down without waiting for an answer. “I didn’t invite you,” In-Ho said calmly. “Hah, then it’ll be an honest introduction — no formalities!” The man grinned and held out his hand. “Seong Gi-Hun.” “…Hwang In-Ho.” He shook his hand briefly. Gi-Hun’s palm was pleasantly warm, slightly damp from the cold beer glass. “Hwang In-Ho…” Gi-Hun repeated, as if tasting every syllable. “Sounds cool. Like you’re the type who settles everything with one sharp look.” In-Ho raised an eyebrow slightly. “And you’re clearly the type who doesn’t let anyone settle anything at all.” Gi-Hun burst out laughing — loud, contagious. The bartender exhaled in relief, noticing the clingy customer had found a new target. “Hah, fair enough! You know, I’ve been sitting here for three days thinking: either I’ll go crazy from crappy loneliness, or I’ll find someone who at least nods when I’m talking nonsense,” Gi-Hun continued. “And you nodded.” In-Ho didn’t smile. Gi-Hun took a long sip of beer, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and asked: “So what about you? Vacation or work? Or just… running away from someone?” Hwang stayed silent. Usually, he avoided questions that touched anything personal. But this time, he sighed quietly and looked away before answering: “My brother made me come. Said I’ve been… silent for too long.” Gi-Hun nodded. “Yeah, brothers are like that. I don’t have one — had to take matters into my own hands and let myself relax. I came here, and you know what… I don’t regret it at all.” In-Ho looked at him more closely. There wasn’t a trace of falseness in Gi-Hun’s eyes — just exhaustion mixed with a stubborn will to keep living. “Maybe I won’t regret it either,” he said quietly. And surprised himself by saying it out loud. Gi-Hun just smiled, raising his glass. “To having no regrets!” Their glasses clinked softly. They talked for another forty minutes that evening. Gi-Hun told stupid, funny stories, while In-Ho mostly listened. But every time Gi-Hun laughed loudly or leaned closer to be heard over the music, Hwang caught himself not looking away. He was starting to like the noise. And it felt strange to realize that the moment this talkative man fell silent, the quiet crept back in too close. At some point, Gi-Hun yawned, stretching, and stood up. “Damn, gotta get up early tomorrow,” he muttered regretfully. “But I’m here every evening! See you around, serious mister!” With a grin, he gave In-Ho a playful pat on the shoulder and soon disappeared through the entrance. In-Ho sat there for a while longer, staring at the half-melted ice in his glass. The bar suddenly felt too cramped, the music too distant. And the thoughts he had so easily escaped began creeping back, stirring a faint anxiety in his chest. He unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, as if the air had suddenly become suffocating. A strange urge surfaced — to get up and follow… just to hear that voice again. In-Ho took another sip of whiskey and frowned. Ridiculous… I’m just drunk. Back in his room, he couldn’t fall asleep for a long time. Every time he closed his eyes, that loud laughter, warm hand, and lively gaze resurfaced. He was irritated with himself for letting that conversation drag on. Sleep came at dawn. When he opened his eyes, the sun was already high, mercilessly flooding the room with bright light. Hot, still air drifted in from the open window, bringing only irritation… and a strange reluctance to go outside…until evening. Until evening… In-Ho frowned. He wasn’t planning to go back to that bar, adjust himself to some random person again, or spend nearly an hour talking about things that had nothing to do with him. …Right? But when the sun began to dip below the horizon, In-Ho was already standing by the familiar doors. He took the same table in the corner — facing the entrance, his back to the room. Ordered whiskey on the rocks again. Just one drink… and I’ll leave. But when the door opened and Gi-Hun walked in — messy hair, wrinkled ridiculous T-shirt, smiling — something warm and unfamiliar lit up inside In-Ho’s chest. His heart beat just a little faster. Gi-Hun spotted him almost immediately and waved. “Well, look at that — you came!” he said loudly, dropping into the seat across from him. “Yesterday I thought that was it — scared off the shy guy for good.” In-Ho just shrugged. “The whiskey here is very good,” he said quietly. Gi-Hun laughed loudly and lazily turned toward the bar. “Hey! Beer for me, as usual — and another whiskey for him!” When their eyes met again, Gi-Hun winked playfully, leaning a little closer. “Tonight’s on me,” he added in a lower voice, like he was sharing a small secret. For a moment, Hwang froze — then, to his own surprise, gave a faint smile. This time, they talked much longer. Gi-Hun told him about everything. First about his ex-wife — how she calls once a week just to criticize him for always being in debt and still smiling. According to her, that was proof of his “ultimate stupidity.” Because of that, she wouldn’t let him see their daughter until he changed. Then he told him about the time he lost all his money on bets and thought his life was over. But despite everything, he found the strength to get back up and start working again. In-Ho listened. Sometimes he asked something or said a short phrase. But every time Gi-Hun leaned closer to be heard over the music, or touched his hand while showing something on his phone — In-Ho didn’t pull away. After a while, Gi-Hun suddenly fell silent and looked at him carefully. “Hey… are you always this quiet? Or am I annoying you?” he asked, taking a sip of beer. In-Ho didn’t answer right away. “I haven’t talked to people… like this… in a long time.” “Then…” Gi-Hun’s hand rested gently on his shoulder. “I’ll get you talking.” Get you talking… The words lingered in his mind long after they said goodbye again. Before leaving, Gi-Hun invited him to the beach in the morning — to clear his head and not rot in a stuffy bar. According to him, “the best vacation in the world” had to include fun and good emotions. And for some reason, In-Ho agreed without hesitation. The night air was warm, filled with the scent of salt and seaweed. Hwang walked slowly along the shore, listening to the quiet sound of the waves. Maybe Jun-Ho had been right — it really was calm and comfortable here, nothing like his cramped one-room apartment. Stopping by the water, In-Ho turned back toward the glowing bar windows. Someone was probably still inside — but thoughts of Gi-Hun, and the pull of his energetic presence, filled his mind more and more. Tomorrow… you’ll sit across from me again. And look at me like my company actually matters to you. Like I… matter. He took a deep breath of the salty air, feeling a faint tremor in his chest. It was the first evening In-Ho realized he was starting to grow attached. And it scared him. But he didn’t want to stop. On the morning of the third day, Hwang In-Ho woke up earlier than usual — the sun was already beginning to seep through the thin curtains, but he didn’t get up right away. Something really had changed. Thoughts of the previous evening wouldn’t let him go: Gi-Hun’s laughter, his ridiculous stories, the warm touch against his wrist… and that strange invitation to meet in the morning. He lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to understand why these small things had affected him so much. About ten minutes later, In-Ho took a shower, put on a white beach shirt and swim shorts, and left his room. For the first time in three days, he decided not to hide within four walls all day. A light breeze brushed pleasantly against his face. Hwang walked to the seaside stalls and stopped, looking out at the ocean. Then, from behind, came a familiar voice. “Oh, there you are!” Gi-Hun smiled widely as he approached. “I thought you might change your mind. Do you drink coffee? I grabbed two, just in case.” He handed him a cup. Gi-Hun’s fingers brushed his hand for a brief moment — thin, warm, almost burning in their touch. In-Ho held his gaze for a second… then forced himself to look away. “You guessed right,” Hwang replied quietly, tightening his grip on the cup. Gi-Hun nodded toward the shade under the palm trees. “Shall we? It’s cooler there — and the sand won’t try to burn us alive.” They walked slowly along the shore. Gi-Hun went barefoot, holding his flip-flops in one hand. Sometimes he deliberately stepped onto the wet sand, leaving footprints behind. “How long do you think they’ll last?” he asked, turning back to In-Ho. “I don’t know.” But suddenly, Gi-Hun dropped to his knees and traced something in the sand with his finger — a silly smiling face. In-Ho stopped, watching him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen an adult capable of enjoying something so simple so sincerely. And somehow, it made him feel warmer inside. “Look, that’s me!” Gi-Hun drew another face next to it. “And this is you. Serious… but quite handsome.” Handsome… “And you… too.” Time passed unnoticed. By noon, the beach began to empty — people rushed off to hide from the blazing sun in cool cafés. And yet, the two of them stayed. They sat silently under a palm tree. Their shoulders barely touched, but neither moved away. “You know, I came here to forget all the crap,” Gi-Hun broke the silence first. “But now I think… maybe it’s not about forgetting. Maybe it’s about starting to live differently.” In-Ho glanced at him, lost in thought. “I tried to forget too,” he said quietly. Gi-Hun turned toward him. “And? Is it working?” “Not yet,” In-Ho sighed. “But it’s easier with you.” Gi-Hun smiled softly and nudged him playfully with his elbow. “Then I’m glad I’m here!” He stood up, brushed himself off, and pulled off his shirt, remaining in just his swim shorts. “Come on, at least let’s get our feet wet! Don’t sit there like a statue!” In-Ho didn’t have time to respond — Gi-Hun was already heading toward the water, occasionally yelping as the hot sand burned his feet. Hwang watched him as if spellbound: straight back, toned body, lightly tanned skin. Gi-Hun looked good. Too good. In-Ho caught himself unable to look away. He slowly stood and walked to the edge of the water. Small waves lazily rolled onto the sand. He stepped forward — the water touched his ankles, pleasantly cooling his sun-warmed skin. “Come on, get over here!” Gi-Hun waved. “Let’s race!” But as he suddenly lunged forward, he tripped over a small rock and nearly fell into the water. In-Ho froze for a second — then suddenly laughed quietly, surprising even himself. Gi-Hun straightened up, smoothed his hair back with a damp hand, and smirked. “Hey! Are you… laughing at me?!” “A little,” Hwang covered his mouth, still smiling. Gi-Hun narrowed his eyes — then suddenly splashed water at him. “Then take this!” Cold droplets soaked into his shirt. In-Ho flinched softly — and then splashed him back. They laughed, tried to knock each other into the water, getting completely soaked. And for the first time in a long while, In-Ho felt truly alive. Breathing heavily, completely drenched, In-Ho bent forward, resting his hands on his knees. Gi-Hun stepped closer — almost too close — the water quietly lapping around their legs. “You have a beautiful smile, do you know that?” Everything inside In-Ho flipped at those words. He stared at his own fingers gripping his knees. His heart was beating too fast, the rhythm echoing loudly in his head. He was afraid to look up. Because he knew — if he looked at Gi-Hun now, standing this close… there would be no going back. They returned to the palm tree. Gi-Hun lay down directly on the sand, hands behind his head, staring at the sky. In-Ho sat beside him, knees drawn up, watching him from the corner of his eye. Gi-Hun turned onto his side and looked at him thoughtfully. “You’re different today. Not as… closed off.” “Maybe you’re opening me up,” In-Ho said quietly, digging his toes into the sand. Gi-Hun just smiled, noticing the faint blush on his face. “Then… I’ll take it slow.” In-Ho finally looked at him — and immediately regretted it. Because Gi-Hun was looking too closely. And the longer they talked, laughed, stayed near each other — the more persistent In-Ho’s thoughts became. He couldn’t call it love yet. But it was no longer just a “chance meeting.” The evening turned warm and strangely cozy. Soft yellow lights lit up above the bar. They sat on a bench outside, talking about everything and nothing. “Today was a great day, right?” Gi-Hun asked casually, sipping a cocktail through a straw. “Yeah,” In-Ho nodded. “In-Ho…” Gi-Hun leaned closer. “Let’s do the same thing tomorrow.” In-Ho thought for a moment, then smiled faintly. “Then tomorrow I’ll win in the water.” Gi-Hun leaned closer, their shoulders brushing. “And seriously… smile more,” he said quietly. “You’ve got an amazing smile. I mean it.” In-Ho didn’t move. He was afraid that if he pulled away now, he might accidentally ruin something important. From the shore came the sound of waves. He watched tourists passing by, feeling the warmth of Gi-Hun’s presence. But as he looked out at the vast dark sea, he suddenly realized he wasn’t waiting for tomorrow anymore. He was waiting for him. “I’ll smile more.” …If you want me to. Late that night, lying in bed, In-Ho stared at the ceiling, thinking about the day. His body still remembered the feeling of wet fabric, laughter, shoulders brushing — as if it had all happened in some strange dream. “You have a beautiful smile, you know?” “Beautiful…” he whispered to himself, recalling Gi-Hun’s face. “Smile more…” His thoughts slowly tangled together. He closed his eyes — and sleep came instantly, soft like a warm wave. He found himself on the same beach — but at night. The moon shone brightly, reflecting on the water. No one around — just him… and Gi-Hun, appearing as if out of nowhere. They stood close, shoulders touching. But his heart raced when he felt a warm hand around his wrist. Gi-Hun turned to him with a smile… and In-Ho didn’t look away. Moonlight reflected in dark eyes. Suddenly, Gi-Hun seemed unbelievably beautiful. Their fingers intertwined. Here, there was no need to hide. Here, he could just… be. When Gi-Hun touched his cheek, gently brushing the skin with his thumb, In-Ho closed his eyes, feeling the touch grow slower… closer. The thumb traced lower, toward his slightly parted lips. And Hwang couldn’t hold back. He leaned in, pressing his lips to Gi-Hun’s — warm, soft, a slow, lingering kiss. It felt… unfamiliar. They kissed slowly, bodies close, time stretching around them. “You’re trembling…” Gi-Hun whispered against his lips. But the moment his hands slid to In-Ho’s waist, pulling him closer— In-Ho woke up. He gasped for air, his heart pounded violently. With a heavy breath, he ran his fingers over his lips. They still held that phantom warmth, as if the kiss hadn’t been a dream at all. He suddenly wanted to feel those lips again. For real. I would like to know what it feels like… if I try it with you. He never fell back asleep. He watched the sunrise from the balcony as the resort slowly woke up. Inside him, everything only grew more tense. A cold shower didn’t help — the heat beneath his skin refused to fade. He got dressed, walked barefoot across the cool floor, and stopped by the open window. The view no longer felt distant or uncomfortable — it felt… gentle. Understanding. As if the island already knew: Hwang was no longer the same man he had been three days ago. When he stepped outside, Gi-Hun was already waiting — standing near the beach entrance with two bottles of water, smiling as if he knew exactly when In-Ho would arrive. “Morning,” he said softly, handing one over. “I was thinking — let’s walk to the forest area today. It’s quiet there.” In-Ho simply nodded, with a faint smile. They walked along a green path. Gi-Hun talked about little things again — breakfast, almost choking on soup, loud seagulls. In-Ho listened, answering briefly — but now he didn’t look away. He watched Gi-Hun’s profile, the wind in his messy hair, the way his lips curved into a smile. And his heart beat faster. He’s… beautiful. The thought came quietly, like an inevitable confession. They reached a quiet clearing overlooking the dormant volcano. “Wow, you can actually see Hallasan from here!” Gi-Hun smiled, pulling out his phone. “Let’s take a picture!” In-Ho stood beside him — but suddenly, a loud noise cut through the air. A service helicopter rose above the trees. The roar made In-Ho flinch. Gi-Hun noticed instantly. “Hey,” he said softly, stepping closer. “Don’t be scared.” Before In-Ho could react, warm hands covered his ears. The world muted. Only breath… and that gaze remained. In-Ho froze. Then, after a second, he lifted his hands and covered Gi-Hun’s ears in return. Gi-Hun blinked — then laughed. “Now that’s protection!” He started making silly faces. In-Ho couldn’t help it — he smiled, then laughed. They leaned closer and accidentally bumped foreheads. The laughter stopped. In-Ho watched Gi-Hun’s lashes tremble, his lips slightly parted. It was mesmerizing. He didn’t even realize who moved first. Their lips met in a soft, almost weightless kiss. In-Ho’s breath caught instantly. His hand moved to the back of Gi-Hun’s head, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. They kissed slowly, deeply — time stretching, every second felt. When they finally pulled back — just barely — In-Ho opened his eyes. Gi-Hun was looking at him like he was seeing him for the first time. “Wow…” he laughed softly. “Did we really just do that?” In-Ho couldn’t speak. Letting go felt harder than moving closer. The rest of the day passed quietly. They walked, talked, sometimes stayed silent — just listening to the waves, feeling each other’s presence. Sometimes Gi-Hun brushed his shoulder. Sometimes he took his hand. And In-Ho smiled. That evening, under the palm tree, In-Ho rested his head on Gi-Hun’s shoulder. “You smell like the sea and sun,” he whispered. Gi-Hun smiled. “And you smell like something warm.” That night, In-Ho fell asleep peacefully for the first time. The weight he had carried for so long was gone. He dreamed of the endless sea, warm sand… and a sky full of stars. And for the first time in a long while he wasn’t afraid of the future anymore. The morning of the fifth day arrived with the feeling that everything around had become just a little brighter than yesterday: the light through the curtains fell softer, the air in the room carried something elusive and sweet, and his heart beat not from anxiety, but from anticipation. Hwang In-Ho lay there, staring at the ceiling, recalling yesterday’s kiss in that secluded spot beneath the roaring helicopter. The memory refused to let go—it lived in his body, on his lips, in the tips of his fingers that still seemed to remember how they had covered Gi-Hun’s ears, as if shielding him from the world. In-Ho rose, walked to the mirror, and touched his lips, as though he still couldn’t believe it had happened. He smiled at his reflection—shortly, almost shyly—and that smile no longer felt wrong, foreign… superfluous. When they met at the beach exit, everything felt strangely new. Gi-Hun smiled as usual—but immediately looked away, as if remembering something too intimate. In-Ho gave a short nod, feeling warmth treacherously bloom inside him. They decided to spend the day on the beach again, like the day before yesterday. But now every accidental touch sparked like electricity. Sometimes their gazes met—for just a couple of seconds. Then both would almost simultaneously look away, smiling awkwardly somewhere to the side, as if caught doing something deeply forbidden. Closer to evening they were in the bar—the same one, in the corner, at the same table where everything had begun several days ago. But now they sat not opposite each other, but side by side—thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder. Gi-Hun lazily stirred his bright cocktail with a straw, occasionally brushing In-Ho’s leg with his knee, seemingly by chance. In-Ho had also ordered a sweet drink. Strong whiskey no longer felt necessary. Before, he drank it to feel nothing; now there was a person beside him who made him feel far too much. “You’re quiet again today—more than usual,” Gi-Hun finally said, leaning closer to speak over the music. In-Ho slowly took a sip. The sweet taste of the cocktail gently burned his throat, spreading warmth inside. But the heat beneath his ribs had nothing to do with alcohol. “I’m thinking,” he answered at last. “About what?” In-Ho looked at him—long, attentively. Biting his lower lip slightly, he seemed to hesitate whether it was worth saying aloud. “About you.” Gi-Hun froze. “Good thoughts or bad?” he asked, now deliberately brushing his knee against In-Ho’s. “Very good.” Gi-Hun moved even closer. His hand rested on the back of In-Ho’s chair—not touching, but very near. A moment later the palm slowly slid lower, stopping at the small of his back. In-Ho tensed for only a second—and then exhaled without noticing, allowing himself to relax. Gi-Hun leaned toward his ear, scorching the skin with hot breath: “Can I hug you… for real?” In-Ho nodded firmly. Gi-Hun thoughtfully lingered on his lips—just for a second, but that was enough for everything inside to ignite. He exhaled softly, whispering: “Then… let’s go to my place?” There was no reply—In-Ho simply rose from the table. And that was already his silent agreement. The entire walk to the hotel room Gi-Hun held his hand. Their footsteps on the stairs echoed too loudly in his head. His heart pounded like mad—with every second the treasured excitement in his chest grew stronger. Something inside was audibly cracking at the seams. When the door closed with a soft click, Gi-Hun slowly turned to him, arms outstretched. “…May I?” But instead of a gentle embrace, In-Ho grabbed Gi-Hun by the collar of his T-shirt and pulled him close, almost crashing their lips together. The kiss was completely different—deep, demanding, filled with tension that had built up in him all day. Breath faltered. Inside In-Ho it was as though an invisible lock had been torn off—the one he had kept locked for years on his right to feel and to be happy. He no longer wanted to hold back. Greedily, wetly kissing, he let Gi-Hun’s tongue in and finally lost himself in the flood of emotions. At some point he even broke into a quiet, almost painful moan. It was a sound In-Ho hadn’t expected from himself—low, raw, full of everything he had held inside for far too long. Gi-Hun responded instantly—he pressed him firmly against the wall and slid a hand under the beach shirt. A hot, soft palm confidently settled on bare lower back, pulling him closer. A sweet ache began in his lower belly. In-Ho arched toward him, refusing to break the kiss, and from that movement their hips pressed tightly together. A hard, hot cock unmistakably pressed right against his own erection through thin fabric. Gi-Hun broke the kiss—just for a second—to tilt his head and run his tongue down the neck, down to the collarbone, gently biting the skin where the pulse beat especially hard. Arousal finally clouded his mind, driving out the last scraps of thought. Breathing noisily, In-Ho threw his head back and moaned quietly, almost like a sob. Gi-Hun answered with a low growl and, gripping his buttocks firmly, pressed even closer—now they were grinding cocks through fabric slowly, rhythmically, without hands or extra movements. Every movement sent a flash of pleasure through In-Ho’s chest: precum seeped more abundantly, the swollen head brushed against wet underwear fabric, making the friction slick and unbearably good. It felt as though he could fully sense the outline of Gi-Hun’s cock, imagine its size… imagine it inside him. And that turned him on even more. Another long moan escaped In-Ho’s lips when another teasing thrust of hips made his knees tremble. “Come here…” Gi-Hun whispered, drawing him toward the leather sofa. He lay down first and pulled In-Ho on top—In-Ho obediently settled astride, pressing his pelvis tightly. Feeling a hard, straining cock beneath him was far sharper than grinding while standing. Now the pressure was deeper, the angle more precise, and every time In-Ho moved forward and back, Gi-Hun’s erection pressed directly against the base of his own, making the muscles inside clench in sweet spasms. In-Ho suddenly realized he had never before allowed himself to grind so shamelessly. Every movement sent dizzying flashes of pleasure up his spine, the lower belly tightening into a tight, unyielding knot. His cock barely noticeably throbbed—wet, ready to be touched, still trapped beneath the fabric of his shorts. Gi-Hun’s hands settled firmly on his buttocks again, squeezing, helping set the rhythm but not forcing it. Gi-Hun breathed heavily, eyes half-closed. His lips were parted, and In-Ho gazed down at him with pleasure—at how he too surrendered to this moment, how he trusted and wanted—and from that everything inside turned over even more fiercely, sending a pleasant tremor through his body. When arousal became completely unbearable—when In-Ho felt that one more moment and he would come right there, in his own underwear—he froze abruptly. He braced his palms against Gi-Hun’s chest, breathing hard. “W-wait…” his voice trembled. Gi-Hun instantly eased his grip, though he himself was shaking with tension. “Is everything… okay?” “Yes, just…” In-Ho swallowed thickly and leaned closer, running his nose along Gi-Hun’s cheek. “I want our first time to be… not rushed. Not on the sofa. I want… you to take me completely…” “Then we won't,” Gi-Hun whispered, stroking his back soothingly. “I… I can wait.” In-Ho lowered his gaze, feeling the heat in his chest mix with something new—almost painfully sweet relief. He was still sitting astride, feeling his hardness beneath him. In-Ho ran a hand through his hair, as if coming back to himself. “I’d better go to my room…” he exhaled. Gi-Hun nodded and walked him to the door—slowly, without letting go of his hand. They stopped at the threshold. Light from a lantern fell through the tall window, drawing dim yellow stripes across the floor and their faces. Gi-Hun leaned in, brushing his lips against his temple. “Good night,” he whispered softly, almost touching his ear. “We’ll… see each other tomorrow?” “Yeah…” They lingered one more moment—just looking at each other, as if afraid that if they turned away, everything would disappear. The walk back to his own hotel room felt unbearable. In-Ho inserted the card into the lock—his fingers trembled so badly he had to try twice before the door opened with a soft click. He stepped inside, cutting off the entire world outside. Click. He stood in the darkness, feeling his heart still pounding in his throat, his lips burning from kisses, his thighs remembering the pressure, the friction, that exact sensation—Gi-Hun beneath him, hard, hot… alive. From that memory his cock twitched a bit again in his shorts. In-Ho slowly leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes—and immediately saw him. Memory painted Gi-Hun still on the sofa, eyes half-closed, hands on his hips. His hand slid smoothly to the shorts, undoing the zipper and pushing them down along with underwear. In-Ho carefully wrapped his fingers around his aroused cock, because he knew: if he went too fast, it would end too soon, and he wanted to stretch this memory as long as possible, to savor every second. Thinking of Gi-Hun, he slowly stroked along the full length, squeezing lightly at the base, spreading precum over the head with his thumb. Breath caught instantly. He moaned quietly and unevenly, unconsciously beginning to thrust into his own palm. In-Ho imagined he was still sitting on Gi-Hun, still grinding against him with his ass. I want that without clothes… I want to feel you inside… hard, hot, filling me… I want to come… “Gi-Hun…” His hand moved faster—no longer holding back. With his other hand In-Ho covered his mouth, biting his lip to keep from moaning out loud. In his mind In-Ho vividly fantasized how, after some time, Gi-Hun entered him fully—first gently, slowly, letting him adjust, kissing his neck and whispering “I’m here, relax,” then passionately, gripping his hips tightly, thrusting hard enough to drive out every disgusting memory, every longing and apathy that had haunted him for years. I want you to take me… To enter me from behind, when I’m on my knees, from the back. To move deeply and rhythmically until I lose control. Until I… Orgasm hit sharply and powerfully. He came into his palm—Gi-Hun’s name slipped from his lips again, louder this time, raw, like a cry of unbelievable relief. With a heavy sigh In-Ho slid down the wall, sinking into a crouch. He breathed hard, tears welling in his eyes—not from shame, not from pain, but from finally acknowledging his desire. Even if only mentally. Even if Gi-Hun never heard it. He reached for the phone—the screen glowed dimly in the darkness. In-Ho opened the chat with Gi-Hun. They had exchanged numbers yesterday during the walk, and so far the only messages were 'good night.' His fingers trembled. He slowly began to type:

“I just came imagining you inside me.”

He stared at the freshly written text. It was too honest… and too frightening. If I send this—I won’t be able to pretend anymore. He’ll sure know how badly I want him. What if he… leaves? His finger hovered over the send button. In-Ho deleted everything in an instant—the screen went blank again. Half an hour later, after a shower, he lay on the bed and pulled his knees to his chest. After everything he had lived through today, sleep refused to come at all. He closed his eyes. His body still trembled slightly—but now that tremor held not only anxiety. There was also something entirely new—quiet, warm, almost happy. I still want him to know. Tomorrow I’ll tell him to his face… or just let him take me. In-Ho woke up early again the next morning. His body still remembered yesterday’s trembling, the caresses, and the words he had almost spoken aloud in the darkness. Hwang felt no regret for what had happened in Gi-Hun’s room… or for what happened afterward when he was alone. He simply knew: today everything would change for good. The day passed in a strange, even more awkward silence. In the morning they met on the shore—as always, but now without words. Instead of a loud, cheerful greeting, Gi-Hun simply smiled and took his hand, slowly stroking the knuckle with his thumb, and offered In-Ho a cup of coffee. Once again they walked along the same stretch of beach, silent, occasionally stopping to look at the sea. And every time their eyes met, In-Ho felt something inside tighten, sometimes almost begging to break free. “Are you… okay?” Gi-Hun asked when they stopped at the soft-serve ice cream stand. “You’re quiet again today.” “Everything’s fine,” In-Ho whispered, staring at the sign. After a short pause, he added: “…I felt good yesterday.” They didn’t speak about it anymore. But that sweet memory of their special “yesterday” definitely lingered between them—in every glance, in every accidental touch. Time dragged slowly. The sun gradually sank lower, the heat eased, but inside it only grew heavier—as if the most important words were stuck somewhere between inhale and exhale. Gi-Hun was the first to break the silence: “Listen…” He scratched the back of his head, as if he himself wasn’t entirely sure how to say it. “Maybe… shall we drop by the bar tonight?” In-Ho froze for a second. “Sure,” he answered quietly. After sunset the bar was unusually noisy: on weekends they often held foam parties for guests. In-Ho sat at their usual table in the corner, facing the entrance, and ordered a sweet cocktail, even though he knew alcohol was no longer necessary: inside everything was already burning, slowly but relentlessly, since last night when he had moaned Gi-Hun’s name aloud, coming from his own hand. Dancing people, music, loud laughter—all of it felt distant, muffled. They talked little—ordinary words, ordinary jokes—but Gi-Hun’s voice seemed lower to him today, more intimate, and In-Ho’s gaze lingered on his lips a little longer than it should have. In-Ho felt something inside begin to tighten into a hard knot. He knew he wouldn’t leave just like that tonight. He knew that if he didn’t take the first step himself right now—tomorrow would be too late. He leaned toward Gi-Hun’s ear—so close that his lips almost brushed the lobe, burning with hot, tense breath. “Let’s do something… stupid,” Hwang said slowly. Gi-Hun turned his head; their faces were centimeters apart. “What kind of stupid?” he asked quietly, almost in a whisper. In-Ho swallowed hard. His heart pounded so fiercely it seemed Gi-Hun could easily hear it. “Swimming. Without taking our clothes off.” Gi-Hun looked at him for several seconds, as if thinking something over. His lips curved into a smirk. “Are you serious?” “With you—yes,” In-Ho answered. “Then let’s go.” Without finishing their cocktails, they left the bar and headed along the coast, away from the crowded area and the bright streetlights. The beach was empty. Only the quiet sound of the surf could be heard. They slowly walked into the water, holding hands. First to the ankles, then deeper—to the knees, to the waist… Small waves rolled in, cooling the skin, but that only made the sensations sharper. Their clothes quickly soaked through. In-Ho’s white shirt clung to his body, the fabric weighing heavily downward. In daylight such a sight would have been utterly mesmerizing in Gi-Hun’s eyes, but now, in the darkness, it didn’t matter at all. They stood very close, occasionally splashing, laughing quietly… and then Gi-Hun suddenly pulled him closer. His hands confidently settled on In-Ho’s waist. He pressed their bodies together and touched his nose to In-Ho’s temple, inhaling the scent of salt water and shampoo. “You looked at me for too long today…” he whispered. “And how exactly?” In-Ho asked, threading his fingers through Gi-Hun’s hair. “Like you want to do something,” Gi-Hun said with a faint smirk, though his voice trembled. I want to… In-Ho didn’t answer; he simply leaned forward, touching his lips to Gi-Hun’s. The kiss started slow, sensual, but gradually grew deeper, more insistent… and sweet from the cocktails as their tongues intertwined. Gi-Hun gently bit In-Ho’s lower lip, and In-Ho let out a quiet moan into his mouth. I want his lips kissing me everywhere… I don’t want him to stop. Hands playfully slid down In-Ho’s back, slipped under the wet fabric, tracing his ribs and spine with fingertips. Every such touch felt like it burned his skin. Palms moved lower—Gi-Hun firmly gripped In-Ho’s buttocks through the soaked shorts, squeezed, pulling him even closer. “Why do you drive me crazy with just one kiss?” he asked, trailing his lips along In-Ho’s neck. But In-Ho left that unanswered too, only letting out a short moan when Gi-Hun lightly bit the skin. They kissed greedily, explored each other with hands through wet clothes, completely unafraid that someone might see them in the thick darkness. Another long moan escaped In-Ho’s lips when Gi-Hun touched the inside of his thigh. He teasingly slid his palm upward, toward the groin, wrapped his fingers around the already hard cock through the fabric, his thumb locating the head. “Did you know you’re beautiful… when you’re wet?” Gi-Hun whispered, feeling himself beginning to harden. “Right now you must be especially hot…” He exhaled languidly near In-Ho’s ear, eyes half-closed: “…and I want you.” In-Ho arched his hips submissively, answering hoarsely: “Then take me.” Gi-Hun smiled—right against his lips—and kissed him again—harder, deeper, almost biting. His palm squeezed In-Ho’s cock more firmly, slowly stroking the full length. He could feel it twitch in response, feel the slippery precum gradually seeping through the wet fabric, the blood-engorged head weakly pulsing under his thumb. In-Ho moaned louder, no longer holding back, deliberately beginning to thrust into the other man’s hand. He wanted Gi-Hun to strip him completely, to touch him wherever he pleased, and then… But Gi-Hun suddenly removed his hand and pulled back, breathing heavily. Even through the haze of intense arousal, In-Ho could see how Gi-Hun’s eyes glistened in the dim moonlight. “Let’s go to the room,” Gi-Hun said. “It’s… warmer there.” “…Yeah.” They left the water—wet, overheated, intoxicated with burning desire. Their clothes clung unpleasantly to their bodies, thin streams of water leaving trails on the sand. But right now they didn’t care. The door to Gi-Hun’s hotel room slammed shut with a sharp bang. Wet clothes flew somewhere aside, onto the back of a wooden chair. This time neither of them wanted to hold back anymore. Gi-Hun spun In-Ho around with his back to him—quickly, but not too roughly—and pressed his chest against the wall, lips brushing the nape of his neck. In-Ho arched, braced his palms against the wall, and let out a quiet moan when Gi-Hun ran his tongue down his neck and then bit the skin beneath his ear, leaving a small hickey. Gi-Hun’s hands slid along In-Ho’s sides and ribs, lips trailing to his shoulders, kissing hotly. With a low moan he gripped In-Ho’s hips, squeezed his buttocks, and spread them slightly wider. In-Ho felt the head of Gi-Hun’s cock slowly and insistently rubbing against him. His mind finally clouded over. Everything he had fantasized about was on the verge of becoming reality. And from that realization his breath caught. After a couple of intense thrusts, Gi-Hun moaned softly into his ear. “Can I… go in?” In-Ho nodded, licking his dry lips. “Make it so I don’t feel anything else anymore,” he whispered quietly. Please… drive every thought out of me… A soft chuckle came in response. Gi-Hun prepared him with his fingers—slowly, carefully, kissing his neck and shoulder blades until In-Ho began trembling with anticipation and quiet moans. Then he entered—first just the head, giving him time to adjust, then deeper, gradually, all the way in. “Does it feel… good right now?” Probably the stupidest question of the entire day. In-Ho squeezed his eyes shut, clenched his teeth—at first there was a slight burning, almost pain, but within a second it gave way to a wave of relief and heat that slowly and pleasantly spread through his entire body. He didn’t answer with words—only let out a long, almost sobbing moan and pushed back slightly, taking him deeper. In-Ho could feel him completely—hard, hot, faintly pulsing inside, filling the emptiness he had carried within himself for years. Gi-Hun began to move—first slowly, carefully, then more rhythmically, more forcefully, each thrust drawing soft sighs from In-Ho. It was even better than in his nighttime fantasy. Too sharp, too deep, too… real. In-Ho suddenly realized he no longer wanted to control himself—neither his body, nor his breathing, nor the way his voice broke. He simply allowed himself to drown in the sensations… and didn’t even try to surface. This is all so… real. Bracing his palms against the wall, he threw his head back, moving his hips to meet the thrusts, losing himself in his own feelings. In-Ho braced his palms against the wall, pushing back to meet each thrust — and every time Gi-Hun drove in a little harder, his own cock rubbed against the cold wall. At first it was almost unpleasant. The rough surface lightly scraped the sensitive skin, but after just a few thrusts the sensation sharpened, teetering on the edge of an unusual way for In-Ho to find pleasure. Droplets of precum left small, wet trails on the wall. In-Ho felt it all — the stickiness, the pressure, the chill of the wall against his hot, aroused head — and from that his arousal only grew stronger. Everything blurred before his eyes. He tried to focus on something—the dimly lit painting in the hallway—as if checking himself: is this really happening… or is he still dreaming? Gi-Hun sped up, breathing heavily. His thrusts became sharper, deeper, more confident. Every time he bottomed out, In-Ho felt everything inside clench, his knees weaken, the lower belly tighten into a taut, aching knot that promised the orgasm was near. Tears welled in his eyes—not from pain, but from the flood of emotions overwhelming his chest. He had finally allowed himself to be so honest in his desires, so vulnerable. Low, raw, almost sobbing whimpers escaped his lips more and more often. He would thank Jun-ho for buying that damn vacation package. He definitely would. “I can’t… anymore…” he whispered quietly, feeling a faint tremor. Gi-Hun pressed his lips to In-Ho’s neck, playfully biting and breathing heavily near his ear. “Then don’t hold back… let it all go.” Orgasm crashed over him like a powerful, slightly painful wave. In-Ho came, soiling the wall, clenching around Gi-Hun inside him and drawing a low, almost growling moan from him. Gi-Hun managed to pull out at the last moment, coming on In-Ho’s buttocks and immediately wrapping his arms tightly around him from behind, pressing close and kissing the slightly damp neck. For several seconds they stood motionless. In the silence of the hotel room only their heavy breathing could be heard. His heart pounded wildly, and his body slowly released its tension. Gi-Hun gently ran his palm down In-Ho’s back. “Hey…” he whispered softly into his ear. In-Ho exhaled weakly, closing his eyes. He let Gi-Hun turn him around to face him. Their eyes met—already without the earlier greed, but with something far deeper. Gi-Hun smiled faintly and brushed his thumb across In-Ho’s cheek. “Come on…” he said quietly. The bed creaked softly. In-Ho lay on his back, still coming down from the high. Gi-Hun settled beside him, turning to face him, lazily tracing his fingers along In-Ho’s arm. “In-Ho…” he began quietly, staring somewhere at the ceiling. “You’re from Seoul, right?” Hwang turned his head, sliding his gaze along Gi-Hun’s profile. “Yeah.” Gi-Hun rolled onto his side, propping his head on his hand, now looking straight at him—more attentively than usual. “Listen…” he gave a quiet chuckle. “Wouldn’t it be stupid? To go our separate ways… and then pretend we just live in the same city and don’t know each other?” In-Ho looked at him. “Then we won’t pretend,” he said. “So…” Gi-Hun leaned a little closer. “Can I find you in Seoul?” In-Ho thought for a second… then gave a barely noticeable smile. “And invite me for a night swim,” he replied. Gi-Hun laughed softly, pressing his forehead to In-Ho’s shoulder. For several seconds he simply lay there, listening as In-Ho’s breathing gradually evened out. Then Gi-Hun lifted himself slightly, sliding his gaze over In-Ho’s face. “In-Ho…” he said quietly, running his fingers along his cheek. “You’re smiling right now.” “Am I?” “Yeah,” Gi-Hun chuckled. “And it suits you so well.” In-Ho looked away, but the smile didn’t disappear. “Then…” he squeezed Gi-Hun’s hand a little tighter. “you’ll have to look at me more often in Seoul.” Gi-Hun gave a quiet hum and settled beside him again, intertwining their fingers. “Deal.”