Chapter Text
The wind buffets through Nam-gyu's ears so hard that he thinks his eardrums are going to burst. It flows through his hair and causes his shirt to billow out. Su-bong's got one hand on the steering wheel and his free arm is hanging out of the window. His nails are freshly painted: neon pinks, blues, yellows.
He's got the radio cranked up nearly all the way with Roger Waters's voice blaring through the speakers.
"Such a good album," he groans. "The vocals are fucking crazy, man! And the way all the songs transition, I mean, fuck!" He shakes his head. "So fucking good. You like it, Gyu?"
Nam-gyu nods, lips curving into a smile. To tell the truth, he's not really paying attention to the music. He doesn't understand the lyrics anyway. What he does understand, however, is Su-bong's excitement. His love for the album, for Pink Floyd, for music. The way he lights up when a song he recognizes plays on the radio. The way his eyes twinkle when he hands over a freshly burned CD for him to listen to (and, additionally, the way he must look while he's burning it).
Su-bong has the most beautiful eyes in the world, Nam-gyu thinks. They're big and brown and he often finds himself getting lost in them. His hair is the same dark brown. Untamed and a bit long, especially at the front. It falls over his face in soft curls. The sides and back are shorter, but it's still about time for a haircut. He's got a small scar on his left eyebrow, the remnants of his father's drunken rage. A shard of glass had lodged itself right there; he's lucky it hadn't been his eye instead. His right ear is pierced in three places, and all three had been done with a needle and an ice cube. One in the lobe and two in the helix.
And he's got the most adorable smile in the world, too. He has a bit of an underbite. Nam-gyu likes to kiss his bottom lip when he's not expecting it, just to see him smile. Likes to watch him when he's concentrating, when his lip sticks out a little. It's adorable.
He's always fidgeting, too, in some way or another, even at nineteen. He's never been able to keep still, ever since they were kids. But Nam-gyu appreciates this about him too. Thinks it's cute when he bounces around or moves to the tune of a song. Right now, he's tapping his free foot to the beat of Time.
Su-bong switches his grip on the steering wheel to his left hand so that he can drape an arm over Nam-gyu's shoulders. Nam-gyu's smile widens. He turns his head so that he's facing Su-bong completely. The last remnants of the sunset's glow highlight his face and tangle in his hair. Makes him look like some kind of angel. Or maybe a Greek god come to earth. Divine, either way.
"Hope it's clear enough," Su-bong muses, eyes centered on the road ahead.
"I don't see any clouds," Nam-gyu answers. His leg bounces idly, hands folded neat in his lap.
Their spot is close. It's an empty rice field way out in the country, long abandoned. Su-bong told him that it'd been left behind as a result of the war. Whether or not it's true, Nam-gyu doesn't know, but it's cool nonetheless. Cool that their spot has a story.
By the time they reach the field, the sun has dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky a mix of inky blacks and deep blues. And as anticipated, it's completely clear. The perfect night for something like this. And Nam-gyu can already see the stars before exiting the truck. Su-bong nearly jumps out of the driver's seat as soon as he parks the damn thing.
Nam-gyu slowly slides out of his seat, and for a few moments he stands there, admiring Su-bong. The way the moonlight casts his face in such a beautiful light, similar to the way the sun had earlier. Su-bong is more in his element under the moon, Nam-gyu thinks. As a child Su-bong's dream was to walk on the moon, to be an astronaut. To explore the dark side of the moon. He'd rant and rave about his plan to do so, and back then, when everything was more than a dream, it had struck a paralyzing fear into Nam-gyu. The thought of Su-bong being so far away left him a sobbing, snotty mess, and Su-bong ended up promising through his own tears to stay right here on earth unless he could bring him with.
He still dreamed. He still planned. But as they grew older, it became little more than a distant memory just out of reach. Yet when his father was worse than usual, when he had nowhere else to go, he would imagine himself on the moon, far, far away, watching the world turn silently.
"Gyu, check it out!" Su-bong's head turns. He beckons for him. "Look!"
By the time Nam-gyu steps over, Su-bong is sprawled out on the bed of the truck, hands behind his head. Bugs eat at his skin no matter how he tries to swat them away. They eat at Su-bong, too, but he does not seem to mind. His jeans are ripped at the knees, not out of design but out of use. He glances up, head tilting lazily.
"You gonna sit?" He pats the spot next to him. "The stars are out."
Nam-gyu exhales, still smiling. The bed of the truck digs into his lower back, and it's cold, but this matters little when Su-bong is to his left, lips curved upward, chest rising and falling slowly with each breath. Time seems to slow down, in this moment. Infinite, he thinks. Sweat glistens on Su-bong's forehead, in little globes. It drips down his temple and gets into his hair and Nam-gyu wants nothing more than to brush it away with his thumb.
Su-bong points upward. "See that, up there?"
Nam-gyu squints. "Yeah," he eventually says. "The North Star?"
"Uh-huh! If you look right there"—his hand moves just slightly—"a little bit under it, see? Do you see that W shape?"
"Yeah."
"That's Cassiopeia. She's Greek." He turns his head and grins triumphantly before looking back up. "And right under that, there's the Heart Nebula, somewhere in there. You can't see it with your eyes, but it's there."
"That sounds fake," Nam-gyu whispers with a soft laugh.
"No, I'm serious! I'll show you a picture sometime. It's shaped like a heart and everything."
"Wow," he breathes.
"That's where stars are born. Did you know that?"
Nam-gyu shakes his head.
Su-bong is silent too, for a moment. His head turns again. And quietly, almost reverently, he says, "I'm gonna be a star, Gyu."
Nam-gyu gazes back at him. His eyes twinkle with a newfound determination, a newfound vigor. Like this is some revelation. But to Nam-gyu, Su-bong has always been a star, bright and beautiful.
"I know you are," he says. And he means it. Su-bong is so talented. Sometimes Su-bong sings to him. Quiet, slow songs at night, whispered in his ear to help him fall asleep. Louder during the day, during their rides in the truck. He'll shout along to the lyrics, and Nam-gyu's not entirely sure that he knows what he's singing, but it doesn't matter. He sounds good doing it. It makes him happy. It makes Nam-gyu happy, in return.
"One day, when I'm out of here, when we're out of here, I'm gonna be so famous that he'll be sorry he ever hit me."
Nam-gyu nods along. He finds it better not to add onto this, specifically. This is more personal, more real. Feasible. Walking on the moon is merely a childish fantasy, but this is something plausible. Something probable.
"Anyway," Su-bong exhales. He doesn't want to talk about it anymore. "I'm glad we came out here. It's nice out tonight, no?"
"Kinda cold," Nam-gyu muses. Su-bong sits up, already shuffling off his jacket. It's black, made of denim. Before Nam-gyu can really protest, Su-bong's helping him up too, wrapping the jacket around his shoulders.
"You can give it back whenever," he says with a grin. "You should really get a coat, Gyu. My mom'll help you, if money's the problem. It's already getting cold out and it's still only fall."
"Thanks, Bong," Nam-gyu murmurs. The jacket smells overwhemingly of him. He sticks his arms through the sleeves and hugs himself. The sleeves fall over his hands, and then some. Expected, from Su-bong's clothing. He's much smaller than him. Always has been. "I'll see what I can do."
"I love you." Su-bong presses a quick, soft peck to his forehead. Despite all of the years that they've been together, each kiss still feels like the first. That hint of awkwardness lingers in the air and never seems to dissipate. "Gyu, you look cold. How about we warm up in the truck? We don't have to leave yet. I don't want you to freeze!"
"Okay," Nam-gyu agrees easily. Giggles a little at the way Su-bong dotes on him and fusses over him. As he walks back toward the passenger seat, he can see his breath. Su-bong's jacket helps keep him warm, though.
Inside the truck, Su-bong cranks the heat up. But when it gets a little too hot for him, he unrolls his window.
"Sorry. I got hot."
Nam-gyu snickers.
There's a silence that falls over them, then. Not an uncomfortable one; there's never a silence between them that has been. Nam-gyu gazes out the window, elbow propped up against it. He can't see the stars as well from here, but there's a lot to think about. Like how romantic his Su-bong is, to bring him out here and show him something like this.
But Su-bong is unusually silent. Not looking at him, either, even when he turns his head and tilts it to grab his attention.
"Bong?" His eyebrows furrow. Su-bong still won't look at him. He's staring down at his lap instead, shoulders sort of tensed. And he's still sweating, too. "Are you okay?"
"Um," he stammers. "I, um, got you something."
"You did? You didn't have to—"
Su-bong grabs his hand, places something in his palm. His face is beet red, and Nam-gyu wonders what the big deal is, but then he glances down and he knows.
It's a small, silver ring. Adjustable, with a star on one half and a crescent moon on the other.
"Hyung, this is. . ." Nam-gyu trails off, bewildered. His cheeks grow warm.
"Do you like it?"
Nam-gyu nods. Before he can say anything, Su-bong grabs the ring and slides it onto his finger. Keeps holding his hand afterword and interlocks their fingers together.
"I thought you would," he says. "It reminded me of you, of us. With the moon and star and all. 'Cause, you know. . . We do this, and stuff, all the time."
"Yeah," Nam-gyu breathes. Laughs a little. It's cute to see Su-bong flustered, tripping over his words. He's usually so confident, so straightforward. Around Nam-gyu, though, it's almost like he melts. And just to see him melt a little more, Nam-gyu leans in, their palms still pressed together, and kisses him.
He presses himself against Su-bong, so that their torsos are nearly together. Su-bong's free hand travels to the back of Nam-gyu's head, fingers entangling with the strands of hair. Slowly, Nam-gyu moves from the passenger seat and into Su-bong's lap. The steering wheel digs into his back, and it's kind of uncomfortable, but Su-bong just keeps on kissing him, and it's impossible to pull away.
Their hands finally separate. Nam-gyu grips the collar of Su-bong's shirt, and Su-bong's hand slides up his thigh, resting eventually on the small of his back.
Nam-gyu pulls away, mostly to catch his breath. But Su-bong kind of recoils, like he's done something terribly wrong.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs quickly. "Let me help you get off—"
"No," Nam-gyu interrupts quickly, shaking his head for emphasis. "No, it's okay. Su-bong, I think— I think I'm ready. For you."
Su-bong's eyes grow wide, mouth falling slightly agape. They've done some things before. Not much. They've fooled around, slipping hands under waistbands and shirts and touching. They've even sucked each other off at one point or another. But not this. Never this.
Su-bong has offered before. Multiple times, actually. And despite feeling bad about it, Nam-gyu always turned him down. He's never been ready. It scared him, and it still does, whether he wants to admit it or not. And of course, Su-bong has always been understanding. Never rushed him, or pressured him, or commented on it afterward. Always a soft "okay" and nothing more.
But he's ready now.
"How should we. . . ?" He trails off, cheeks burning. It's like he's afraid of the words themselves, more than their meaning.
Su-bong hums a little, glancing around the truck. Pouts, too, and Nam-gyu fights the urge to kiss him again.
"Let's go to the backseat," Su-bong says, mouth mere centimeters away from Nam-gyu's neck. "There'll be a little more space there. That okay?"
Nam-gyu nods. He moves off of Su-bong's lap and back into the passenger seat momentarily.
"Wait," Su-bong adds. Digs around in search of a new CD until he finds Billy Idol's Rebel Yell. He puts it into the slot. "You first," he offers with a grin, gesturing to the empty backseat.
With a giggle, Nam-gyu crawls into the back, knees pressed up to his chest so that Su-bong can join him.
One they're both back, Su-bong's hands immediately travel to Nam-gyu's arms, sliding up and down, almost sensually.
"You sure you're ready?" he asks quietly. "We don't have to go through with anything you don't want to."
But Nam-gyu's sure. To confirm it, he puts his lips to Su-bong's own, kissing him deeply. "Positive," he murmurs, after pulling away.
"You're so perfect, Gyu," Su-bong whispers. "I love you so fucking much." His hands move down, tugging on the zipper of Nam-gyu's jeans. Nam-gyu lets him. Even helps him slide them off, too.
Su-bong grabs his thighs, marveling at the sight of him, as if he's something holy, something worth marveling at.
"Can I take them off?" Su-bong's fingers hook inside the waistband of his underwear.
"Yes," Nam-gyu nearly gasps, hands gripping his. Su-bong exhales, shuffling his boxers down to his knees, then all the way off of his legs.
Nam-gyu's face burns. Su-bong has seen him naked before. Plenty of times, in fact. And he's seen Su-bong naked, too. To them, nudity doesn't have to have anything to do with sex. It's just another thing. But now, Nam-gyu's self-conscious. What if Su-bong suddenly finds him repulsive? What if he suddenly wants nothing to do with him anymore?
Any fear of this dies with Su-bong's soft voice in his ear, praising him, almost worshiping him. "You're so beautiful." He presses his forehead against his. "So beautiful."
"I love you," Nam-gyu breathes. "I love you." He kisses Su-bong again. Climbs back into his lap, straddling him, hands on either side of his face. They probably would have been better off staying in the front, but it doesn't matter. They're pressed up against each other, breaths mingling, warmth radiating. The music resonates around them.
Su-bong pulls away to tell him that he's going to slip his finger inside of him now.
"Okay," Nam-gyu says, panting softly. "Okay, do it."
"Okay. You're sure?"
"Yeah." Nam-gyu swallows down his nerves. It's just Su-bong, he tells himself. It's just Su-bong. The same Su-bong he's known all his life, the same Su-bong who he's experienced every one of his firsts with. But his hands shake, and his breaths come out a bit stranger than normal. And when Su-bong puts his hand on the small of his back, he jolts a little, a shudder running up his spine.
"Relax," Su-bong tells him, and it's hard not to when he's talking so soft. "It's just me, Gyu."
Yeah, he thinks. Just him. Just them, in their spot, in their place, surrounded by empty soil and the infinite night sky.
This makes it a little easier to get used to. But when Su-bong's finger slides lower, he can't help but startle again. They've touched before, of course, but not like this. The touch isn't unwelcome. Just new.
"Sorry," he manages between breaths.
"Don't worry. You're okay."
"It's just so. . ."
"Weird? I know. I thought the same. But I think this is how they do it, right?"
Nam-gyu nods. "Yeah. I think so." Nam-gyu's knowledge of porn starts and ends with all that he's seen with Su-bong. And even then, he doesn't know much. It'd always fluster him too much, so he'd avert his gaze and discreetly hide his face in Su-bong's shirt. The lewd sounds were enough. He didn't need to see them, too.
"Can I try?" Su-bong asks him, leaning back so that they can make eye contact. "Are you okay with that?"
"Yeah. It's okay."
Su-bong nods. "Okay. But if it doesn't feel good, tell me and I'll stop."
At first, Nam-gyu can't tell him anything at all. The air leaves his lungs as Su-bong's finger enters him. All that leaves his throat is the remnant of a breath. A small squeak. He grips the fabric of Su-bong's shirt so tightly he's afraid it'll rip. Squeezes his eyes shut and sinks further onto his hand despite himself.
"Sorry!" Su-bong frets. "Did I hurt you? I'm sorry!"
"No— no, no, it's— it's okay. It's good. Don't, um, stop. Please."
"Fuck," Su-bong exhales. Tilts his head back a little, giving Nam-gyu perfect access to his neck. He presses his lips to the sensitive skin, eliciting a soft whine from him. "Gyu, ugh— you're so perfect. . ." Su-bong retracts his finger, then pushes it inside again, this time with more effort, more vigor.
"More," Nam-gyu gasps. "Please. Please, Su-bong."
"Okay, Gyu." Su-bong presses a second finger against the muscle, pushing it into him slowly. Nam-gyu moans, despite muffling himself against the fabric on Su-bong's shoulder. "Fuck— you okay?"
"Don't stop," Nam-gyu begs. There's a slight discomfort that comes with it, but it's not unwelcome. He's capable of getting used to it, and he certainly wants to. Su-bong's fingers are perfectly slender; the perfect fit, just like a puzzle piece. The perfect fit in between his own fingers, the perfect fit inside of him. He can't get enough.
Su-bong spreads his fingers just slightly, stretching him. Another high pitched sound escapes his parted lips. He can't help but push back onto Su-bong's fingers farther, desperate to take him deeper. His legs tremble, and he thinks he's about to come, but he's not entirely sure. He knows he's not supposed to come yet; they're only fingering, and even then, they always last longer in porn videos. But he's painfully hard (and, he notices, so is Su-bong) and his belly is warm, and no matter what, he knows he won't be able to last much longer.
"Bong," he whines. "Bong, I'm—"
"Close, already?"
He nods, ears burning with embarrassment. No matter how he wills himself not to, he's still about to come.
"Okay," Su-bong says quietly. "Okay, that's okay."
That's okay. But is it? It's not. Nam-gyu doesn't think so. Su-bong's surely got expectations, and Nam-gyu's not meeting them. He's not even meeting his own expectations.
He clenches his eyes shut, simultaneously clenching his hand into a fist. He'll do his best not to ruin this, even if it's a losing battle.
But Su-bong's fingers are so fucking perfect, and he can't take it anymore, so he whines, voice cracking right down the middle.
"Fuck— please," he nearly cries. "Fuck, fuck— Bong—"
"It's okay," Su-bong whispers against his ear. "Come if you need to, baby. Don't force it. It's okay."
And the dam breaks. At first, Nam-gyu's not even aware of it, but when the initial effect of his orgasm wears off and his gaze falls in between them, he sees the thick spurts of white coating him and Su-bong both.
"Fuck, I'm sorry," Nam-gyu exhales. "I'm sorry, hyung, I—" He frowns, doing his best to wipe his come off of Su-bong's skin with his hand. "I didn't mean to ruin it. Sorry."
"What? You didn't ruin anything, Gyu. What are you talking about?"
"I was supposed to last longer than that. Wanted to last longer for you."
Nam-gyu's throat constricts on itself and he thinks that he's about to cry. He hopes he doesn't, because crying in front of Su-bong is infinitely more embarrassing than coming on him after a little bit of fingering. He turns his head to the side, his hair falling over his face.
But Su-bong's free hand comes up and caresses his cheek and turns his head back so that they're looking at each other.
"So what?" Su-bong asks him, earnestly. The moonlight shines in through the window and illuminates his face. "So what if you didn't? Doesn't mean we can't keep going. Do you want to keep going, Gyu?"
Nam-gyu nods, swallowing hard. "Yeah," he whispers. "Yeah, I do."
"Okay. Then we'll keep going." And Su-bong withdraws his fingers, drawing out another moan from him. "I don't— I don't have, like. . . A condom. Or anything. I don't have anything."
"It's okay. I don't care. I don't need one anyway."
Su-bong hums a little. Brings his hand up to his face and spits into the palm before dropping it back down and stroking himself. Nam-gyu tries not to look, but it's hard not to when Su-bong's groaning like that, when he's as hard as he is.
"Okay, Gyu, just. . . Just move forward. Here." Su-bong grabs his waist and pulls him closer, so that their torsos are pressed together. Su-bong exhales shakily, his head propped up on Nam-gyu's shoulder so that he can have a better look. "Is this okay?"
"Mhmm."
"I'm gonna do it now. I'll go slow."
"Okay," Nam-gyu says, and he holds onto Su-bong's shirt a little tighter. He can feel Su-bong pressing against him again, and this is much different than his fingers, and he doesn't quite know how to react, so he just pushes back. Su-bong groans, hand curling around his length to help center himself with Nam-gyu's entrance.
"Fuck— oh, fuck—" All air leaves his lungs, and he scrambles to find something to hold onto. "Su-bong—"
"Sorry," Su-bong pants. "Sorry, I'm trying to—"
"Su-bong, stop—"
And he does. Right away. No questions asked. "Gyu, fuck, I'm sorry."
"Is it supposed to hurt like that?" he asks weakly.
"I mean. . . Maybe? Because it's the first time?"
Nam-gyu isn't so sure he likes this part. Not as much as he'd enjoyed the fingering, anyway. At least that didn't hurt so much.
"Do you want me to stop?" Su-bong asks.
"No," Nam-gyu answers truthfully. Shakes his head a little. "Just. . ."
"Tell me what you need, and I'll do it."
"I don't— I don't know, Bong, I don't. . ."
"Okay. Okay, it's okay, just— tell me if I need to stop."
Nam-gyu nods. Takes a deep breath, going back to his original place on Su-bong's lap. Su-bong kisses his cheek before doing the same. He presses against Nam-gyu again, and Nam-gyu holds his breath, only exhaling a breathy moan when he can feel himself stretching around Su-bong.
"Fuck," he whines. "Su-bong—"
"You're okay?"
"Mhmm— yeah. Are you— in?"
"Well, no— just the tip."
"Oh."
"I'm sorry, Gyu, I wish I had lube or something. I'm so sorry. Next time I'll bring some. It'll make it feel better."
Next time. There's going to be a next time! Nam-gyu breathes out a relieved laugh. But Su-bong must mistake it for a cry, because his hand comes up and tangles in his hair and scratches gently at his scalp.
"I'm so sorry," he whispers. Nam-gyu shakes his head, and even dares to push himself down a little. He moans, despite himself.
As it turns out, Su-bong fills him out a lot more than he thought he would. It takes a long while for him to bottom out inside of him, but once he does, Nam-gyu can see why people seem to enjoy it so much. His moans are breathy, guttural. He bites down on Su-bong's shoulder, and Su-bong startles, bucking his hips into him.
"Fuck— Su-bong!" Nam-gyu whines.
"Sorry! I'm sorry!"
"It's okay, just— careful!"
But eventually, they find their rhythm. Mostly Nam-gyu doing the work, pushing himself down and pulling himself up. Grips Su-bong's shoulders so tightly he's sure he'll leave marks. And Su-bong holds onto his waist with one hand, and onto his cheek with the other. His thumb swipes gently across the skin.
A soft cry. "Bong, I— I'm gonna come, please—"
"Okay. Okay, baby, okay. It's all right. Me too. I am too. Do— should I— do you want me to pull out?"
"No," Nam-gyu answers roughly, voice strangled. "Can you— inside? Please?"
"You sure?"
"Yes! Please, Bong!"
And he does. They both do. The warmth spreads through Nam-gyu, quick and white-hot. And before he knows it, he's coming too, for a second time. Coats their thighs and their bellies. Nam-gyu falls against Su-bong, wrapping desperate arms around the base of his neck.
"You're okay," Su-bong tells him. "It's okay. Are you hurt?"
"No." Yes. But not a bad kind of hurt. A good kind, one that leaves him craving more. "I'm okay."
"Okay. Good, that's good." Su-bong kisses his temple, rests his forehead against it for a few moments as he catches his breath. Nam-gyu shudders when he pulls out. He can feel Su-bong's come drip out of him, which saddens him a little. Come and a little bit of blood, which Su-bong tells him is normal, from what he'd researched. Nothing to worry about, for a first time. But even so, he's extra careful with him afterward.
Nam-gyu's not afraid of a little blood, though; not if it's Su-bong. He knows Su-bong wouldn't hurt him.
But even so, he hurts. Like, really hurts. So much so that Su-bong has to help him pull his clothes back on. And for a long while after, they just sit there in each other's embrace, trying to adjust. Nam-gyu, especially.
After a while, Su-bong asks, "You wanna go home, Gyu?"
Nam-gyu nods with a small yawn. He rubs at his eyes.
Su-bong laughs softly. "Tired?"
"Yeah."
"When we get back to your place I'll run a bath, 'kay?"
Another nod. It hurts to crawl back into the front seat, but Nam-gyu manages. And once he's settled, seatbelt on and all, he leans against the window, eyes drooping shut. Su-bong reaches out and grabs his hand, bringing it over to rest on his own thigh.
"You sure you're okay?" he asks him.
"Mhmm. Just tired, Bong. I promise I'm okay."
"Okay." Su-bong turns his head, shifting the truck into drive. "Sorry, baby. You'll feel better after a bath and some rest."
Nam-gyu squeezes Su-bong's hand. He allows his eyes to close, and he thinks that he'd fallen asleep on the way back home, because the next thing he remembers is pulling into the driveway and Su-bong's hand, gentle on his shoulder.
"Who's here?" Su-bong asks, tilting his head.
Nam-gyu squints. "Fuck," he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's my fucking mom. You can't stay, Bong. You gotta go home."
"What?"
"My mom, Bong. And her boyfriend'll probably be over too, so you can't be here. You gotta go home. I'm sorry."
"You can come home with me, maybe— I mean—"
"They'll see that I'm gone and freak out."
"But, baby—"
"I know. I know, I'm sorry. I'll call you, okay?"
"How about I call you instead, soon as I'm home?"
"Okay. Yeah."
"Okay," Su-bong echoes. Kisses Nam-gyu's cheek. "Make sure you take it easy, okay, Gyu? Run a bath or take a shower. It'll help, promise."
"I will. Thank you, Bong. I love you."
"Love you!" he answers, and kisses him again, this time on the mouth. "I'll call you!"
Nam-gyu slides out of the truck as carefully as he can, despite the soreness that shoots through him. He waves at Su-bong and blows him a kiss before shutting the door. And of course, Su-bong waits until he's in the house before he pulls out of the driveway.
Inside, it's dark. Nam-gyu flips the light switch up and frowns when his mother is nowhere to be found. Typical, but still. He makes the trek to his bedroom, which really shouldn't be as difficult as it is. Once he's in his room, he flops onto the bed, facing the ceiling. He's still wearing Su-bong's jacket, he realizes, and he can't help but smile. It still smells overwhelmingly of him. And so does he, really. Su-bong's cologne, mixed with his natural scent. He could almost get intoxicated on this alone.
He's exhausted, but he can't stop grinning. Can't stop giggling, like he's a girl or something. He raises his arm as far as he can, and stares at the ring on his finger. Watches the way the small gemstone refracts the light. His very own ring! And Su-bong had picked it out specifically because it reminded him of him, of them. How sweet he is, to always think of Nam-gyu like this! Always such a gentleman. Leaves Nam-gyu a blushing, giddy mess, without fail.
Nam-gyu doesn't want to get up, doesn't want Su-bong's smell to leave him. But Su-bong had asked him to take a shower. And besides, he said there would be a next time. A next time! He can't wait.
So, slowly, he pulls himself up and off of his bed and moves into the bathroom. Grabs a fresh pair of pajamas on the way. He turns the shower's dials and waits for the water to heat up. It always takes ridiculously long.
In the meantime, he strips himself down. Gazes at his reflection in the mirror, at his unusally messy black hair that he's been growing out, at his eyes, which are such a deep brown that they appear black unless shone on with a light. His face is smattered with freckles, of which Su-bong likes to kiss and compare to constellations. Connects them with his index finger and names them after things only they would understand. Like their own secret language. He'd gotten his braces off a while ago, and yet he's stil got a bit of an overbite. He refuses to wear his retainer. Thinks it makes him look dumb. He also refuses to wear his glasses, on the count of the fact that they make him look like a nerd. But Su-bong likes them. He tells him that they make him look cute. But he just doesn't see it. Not one bit.
He's on the small side, for seventeen. Seventeen, going on eighteen, for that matter. And not only height wise. He's thin, too. Almost tredding the line between thin and malnourished. It's not that he doesn't have the resources, and not that he purposefully avoids eating. He just. . . Doesn't think about it. There are plenty of important things to worry about. Food is toward the bottom of the list.
His nails are painted black, because Su-bong had insisted that he paint his nails too so that they could match. But Nam-gyu had refused on painting his nails neon colors. It would be black, or nothing at all. And so Su-bong painted them black.
He's only got one piercing, and it's on his left earlobe. It's a simple stud, to match Su-bong's own lobe piercing. Each from the same set. It had hurt like nothing else, probably because it was Su-bong piercing it, and probably because all he had was needles and ice cubes. But now that it's been a while, he's grown to like it. Likes that Su-bong's got the matching earring. Of course he does.
When the bathroom finally grows warm, and condensation appears on the mirror, Nam-gyu steps into the shower. And Su-bong was right; the hot water helps a lot. Relaxes his muscles and helps the pain cease. The water spins around the drain, the small bit of blood washing away with it, staining the water a light brown. The water beats down on his skin, and he wishes more than anything that Su-bong could be here.
But he's not. But he's going to call! And that's enough for him.
When he's effectively used up all of the hot water, Nam-gyu steps out of the shower, hand immediately flying for the towel that hangs on the rack next to him. He wipes his face first, then his hair, and then his body. His hair clings to his neck in strands, and water still drips down his body, but he's far too exhausted to care. He slips on his pajamas; a pair of gray pajama pants and one of Su-bong's old T-shirts that he'd left a long time ago and most likely forgot about.
And by the time he gets back into bed, he could just about pass out from exhaustion. But there's something stopping him. Something deep within him, warm in his belly, warm in between his legs. When he glances down, he can see the tent in his pants, and he groans. Bites his lip as he pulls the duvet over himself.
All of the thinking about Su-bong, he supposes. That, and the soreness, and the memory of all that they'd just done.
Slowly, he slips his hand down the waistband, immediately wrapping his hand around himself. He lets out a soft whine, and he's thankful that nobody's around to hear it.
But then his phone rings. It's Su-bong. Of course it is. Immediately, he pulls his hand out from his pants. Whines again, more desperate this time.
"Hi," he greets, voice a little strangled as he answers the call.
"Hi, Gyu!" Su-bong's voice seems a little off, but Nam-gyu can't quite put his finger on it. He chalks it up to exhaustion. "How are you feeling? Did you take a shower?"
"Yeah— yeah," Nam-gyu says. "Just got out, actually."
"Well, good timing, then, huh?" Su-bong laughs a little.
"Mhmm." Why couldn't he just call later? Why does it have to be now? He's just lucky Su-bong can't see him like this.
"I wish I could be there right now. Wish I could hold you, make you feel better."
"Me too."
"But you're feeling okay? Are you still sore, baby?"
Nam-gyu nods into the phone, as if Su-bong could see him. He is still sore. The shower had helped, sure, but not enough. Not at all. But there's a part of him that likes it, almost. Likes that there's something to fill again, something to come back to. Though, he wishes that Su-bong never would have left him empty at all. Regardless, he's riled up. And he's got to do what he's got to do.
His hand creeps back down, palms at the front of his pants. He bites his lip.
"I really wish I could be there," Su-bong sighs, and Nam-gyu sneaks his hand under his waistband again. Yeah, he thinks with a sharp exhale. I wish you were here too. I wouldn't feel like this if you were. You wouldn't let me feel like this if you were.
Too lost in his own pleasure, he blurts out, "No, it's— it's okay. I like it."
The other line goes silent, then. Nam-gyu doesn't say anything, either. He cups his hand around himself, stroking slowly. Anything to prolong this. And it helps to not give himself away, too.
But eventually, Su-bong's voice comes through again. Nervous, with a hint of something akin to arrogance. "What— what do you like about it, Gyu?"
Butterflies flutter inside of his belly. His cheeks grow warm. He's not sure what exactly the reason is, but he's emboldened now. Confident. Quietly, he says, "I can still feel you."
He's about to pierce his lip with how hard he bites it.
Breathless, Su-bong asks, "Do you. . . Do you really like that you can?"
Nam-gyu can imagine him, sitting on his bed, hair messy and lip jutted out and eyebrows knitted. Sprawled out, his legs spread and all. Phone pressed against his ear, trying to ignore the warmth spreading inside of him, trying to ignore how hard he is.
Nam-gyu whispers, "Yeah."
Su-bong goes silent again, and Nam-gyu wonders if he'd heard him. If he can hear him. He's trying his hardest to be quiet, after all. But even so, skin slaps softly against skin. There's nothing he can do about that; he's far too excited, far too in the moment. Can Su-bong blame him? Can anybody blame him, really? He can still feel Su-bong. Can still feel where he split him right open, through the middle. Where he patched him up again after, with soft kisses and soft words, with his deepened voice doting on him and worrying about him.
"Baby," Su-bong says, his voice hoarse. "You're driving me fucking crazy right now."
"Fuck," Nam-gyu exhales. "God."
"Can— can I touch myself, Gyu? Is that. . . Is that okay?"
"Yeah," Nam-gyu answers quickly, without a moment's hesitance. "I already am. Do it with me, Bong."
"God, baby." A growing desperation seeps its way into Su-bong's voice. A soft sigh, too. Nam-gyu knows that he's got his hand around himself now. "Tell me more. Please. What— um. . . What are you wearing right now?"
"Wearing. . . Oh, those gray pants, you know the ones. And— and your shirt." The last part leaves his cheeks and ears burning. He squeezes his eyes shut.
"My shirt?"
"Mhmm." A quiet moan.
Su-bong groans. "I wish I could see you. Wish I could be there."
"Yeah," he chokes out. "And what— would you do? If you were?"
"Mmh. . . I'd get into bed with you. Kiss you all over, just how you like."
Nam-gyu can still feel Su-bong's kisses on his skin, if he concentrates hard enough. Each kiss burns with the intensity of a star. A thousand stars.
"And. . . And what else? What would you do after that?"
"I'd slip you out of those pants. Nice and slow. Have you on my lap again, just like before. Would you like that? Me taking you, right there on your bed? Filling you up real good?"
Nam-gyu nearly comes, just from that. He stretches out on the bed, head tilted back against the headboard, hand working more diligently in between his thighs. His breaths come out in short gasps. "Even if. . . Even if my mom was there too, in the other room?"
"Especially. We'd have to be so quiet though, baby. Can't let— ah, let her hear you."
Nam-gyu reels. His mind floods with the image of Su-bong stroking himself nice and slow, Su-bong biting his lip and stifling moans, because of course he does, he's a gentleman after all. And oh, if only he could be here! If only he hadn't turned him away! Who cares if they're not alone? It's nobody's business but their own. And to think, Su-bong would have him keening in his ear, sounds muffled, maybe by a piece of their clothing. Stopping periodically to make sure that they're still alone, that they haven't grown too loud.
"Ugh— hyung, keep talking," he pleads. "I'm, ah, close."
"Fuck, Gyu. Baby. If I was there, I'd take such good care of you. Make you come so hard you see stars. And I'd come too. Make sure you're nice and— nice and full."
Nam-gyu can hear the wavering in Su-bong's voice, and he knows that he's close too. And he can't help the giddiness that comes from that. Knowing that Su-bong is getting off on this just as much as he is, that they're thinking the same dirty thoughts about each other at the same time. And it's all so crazy, what they're doing. But Nam-gyu hardly has the heart to care, especially when he's so close to reaching his orgasm.
"Do it," he mumbles, in between moans and gasps. "Do it, Bong, come. Wanna hear you. Please?"
"You too," comes Su-bong's reply, just as breathless. "Please. Please, baby, let me hear you too."
Nam-gyu doesn't need to be told twice. He comes, his entire body wracked with shudders. And when he opens his eyes after the initial wave, any sound Su-bong may have made falling on deaf ears, his heart sinks a little. Su-bong's shirt, damp and defiled with come.
"Fuck," Nam-gyu mewls. "Fuck, Bong, I'm sorry."
"Huh?" Su-bong's voice is distant now, and he sounds tired. "Why are you sorry?"
"I— your shirt. I got— all over it. I didn't mean to."
"Don't worry about it, baby. You're okay. Take it to the wash, yeah? It's okay. It'll come out."
But Nam-gyu doesn't feel like getting up, not now, not after everything. He feels like having Su-bong next to him, fingers carding through his hair as he lays his head in his lap. Feels like falling asleep in Su-bong's arms, feels like dreaming of him and waking up in the same position he'd fallen asleep in. Then, maybe they could stay in bed for a little while, until Su-bong has to go back home.
"Okay," he says softly. Gets about as far as pulling the shirt off before he's falling asleep.
"You tired?" Su-bong asks. He nods into the phone. And his lack of an answer surely is an answer plenty, because Su-bong chuckles and adds, "Get some sleep, Gyu. I'll call you again in the morning, okay? Text me when you're up."
"Mhmm. . ."
"I love you, Nam-gyu."
Nam-gyu's out before he can give his reply.
* * *
When Nam-gyu comes to, it's still pitch black outside. And he's shivering. It's still cold, and he's not even wearing a shirt. God.
He thinks this is why he'd woken up, but then he registers the phone vibrating next to his head. Su-bong. His eyebrows furrow. Still half asleep, Nam-gyu answers with a soft, "Bong?"
Su-bong's voice doesn't come right away, but the sound of his heavy, erratic breathing does. This, paired with the sound of the truck's engine whirring all too loudly. Nam-gyu exhales.
"Bong," he says again, concern ebbing into his voice. "What's going on? Are you okay? Are you— are you driving?"
"Nam-gyu," Su-bong says, "I'm getting out of here."
"Oh." Nam-gyu suddenly feels much more awake. He scrambles into a sitting position. "When are we leaving?"
"There's no we."
A long pause, then.
"What?"
"I can't—" Su-bong sobs. "I can't stay here. I can't be here. I have to get out."
Nam-gyu's breathing quickens. "Su-bong, you can't— you have to take me with you. You can't just— go."
Su-bong doesn't answer him, though. All Nam-gyu can hear is the overworked engine and Su-bong's labored breaths.
"I have to get out of here. You don't— get it. You don't know. I can't be here anymore."
By here, does he mean here, or does he mean here, as in existing as a whole? Either way, Nam-gyu doesn't like it. Not one bit.
"Come on, just let me go with you! Why can't I come? You're scaring me!"
"Nam-gyu, I can't. I can't do this. I can't be here anymore. I have to get out. I have to leave." And Nam-gyu can tell that he's pressing on the gas harder. He's going to hurt himself, Nam-gyu realizes with a paralyzing fear. He's going to get himself killed if he keeps it up.
"What are you doing, Su-bong? Calm down! You have to calm down! Just pull over and—"
"Shut up!" Su-bong yells, and Nam-gyu falls silent. They both do. Su-bong's breaths delve into sobs. His whole body wracks with them. For far too many moments, Nam-gyu listens, his heart breaking a little more with each sniffle, with each sob.
And when Nam-gyu can't take it anymore, he whispers, "Please come pick me up."
"Okay," Su-bong says finally, after about ten seconds have passed. Nam-gyu thinks he's let off of the gas a little now. "Okay. Just be ready when I get there."
"Okay," Nam-gyu echoes. Su-bong hangs up before he can say 'I love you.'
It's sad, Nam-gyu thinks as he stands in the center of his bedroom, how his entire life fits into one bag. His school bag, at that. He'd taken out all of the school supplies and replaced it with his sketchbook, his favorite books, pens, and a change of clothes. Some other necessities too, like his earbuds and his glasses. And before he can forget: Su-bong's CDs.
Su-bong will be here any minute, so he has to act quick. He pulls his arms through Su-bong's jacket and slings his bag over his shoulder. He's sure his mother is either passed out or gone, so he figures he doesn't have to worry much about her. However, when he makes it to the kitchen to grab the pack of strawberry gummies he was going to give to Su-bong tomorrow, he runs into his mother's boyfriend, hovering over the counter, waiting for the microwave to finish heating something up.
Nam-gyu freezes, grip tightening on his bag. His eyes narrow. Oh, how he hates that man! That man, with his arrogance and his anger, his cruelty and his condescension. But then again, they're all the same. His mother is always bringing home some guy, letting some stranger into his home. He doesn't bother to learn their names; they'll be gone just as soon as they come. But this one has stuck around a little longer than the rest. Whatever. He's the same as the rest of them.
He slinks toward the cupboard and pulls out the package. Of course, it rustles, and his mother's boyfriend turns and gives him a once over before saying, "Do you really need candy? In the middle of the night?"
Nam-gyu scoffs, rolls his eyes. Stuffs the package into his pocket. He moves toward the door, but the guy speaks again.
"What, are you running away or something? You know we're not going to go looking for you, so you might as well drop the act right now. You're only going to embarrass yourself when you come back. No one likes an attention seeker."
Nam-gyu's thanking Su-bong a thousand times over in his mind. Suddenly, getting out of here doesn't sound so bad. They've always dreamed of the house they're going to have one day. A big home that they can call theirs. And they won't let any strangers in, won't let anyone bad in. It'll be theirs. When Su-bong is famous, and his family comes crawling to him for money or something, he sure as hell won't let this asshole in.
"Whatever," he grumbles.
"You know you disappoint your mother when you do stuff like this," he says. "She has to hear about all of the great things her friends' sons are doing, but she never can say the same about you. Always running off with that boy, doing God knows what. Something bad, probably. Getting yourself into all sorts of trouble. You've never got anything to show. Don't you want to make your mom proud?"
What? Nam-gyu laughs, incredulous. "You're serious?" is all he can manage in his bewilderment. What does he know about Su-bong? What do any of them know about Su-bong? When has he ever gotten into trouble? And what about all of the projects and exams and grades he brings home, of which he'd scored the highest? Where was she for all of that? Nothing to be proud of. Right.
"I'm just saying. Maybe if you tried a little harder to make something of yourself—"
"Oh my God," Nam-gyu breathes. "You're ridiculous. Fucking crazy. You and that bitch both."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah."
Nam-gyu scowls. Bares his teeth, furrows his brows. Whatever. He's out of here. Pretty soon, he won't have to deal with this, with them, with any of it. At least for a little while. When Su-bong cools down enough to come back home, he'll deal with it then. But for now, it doesn't matter. None of it matters. He's fed up. Fuck this. Fuck all of it.
"Come here," he says, standing up straighter now. "You don't talk that way. No wonder you're always disappointing your mom, when you talk about her like that."
"Fuck you," Nam-gyu spats, tone dripping with venom. "You're not my dad. I'm not listening to you. Stay right there and don't you fucking touch me, or I swear to—"
And to his embarrassment, the asshole laughs at him. Like this is all some fucking joke, like he's bluffing. He needs to get out, and quick.
So when the distance between them closes a little, he darts. Runs past him, grabs the wallet left on the counter and scrounges through it, stuffing all of the won notes he can into his pockets with his trembling fingers. And before he finds himself in more trouble, he's out of the door, into the night once more.
And like magic, Su-bong is there, waiting for him. He hardly has time to feel the cold air hit his skin before he's jumping into the truck and wrapping his arms around Su-bong's middle as tight as he can, pressing his cheek against his. He exhales, relieved, like a huge weight has been lifted off of his shoulders.
"Hi," he says softly. "Hi, Gyu."
"Bong, never do that again." But there's no real bite to his voice. Only concern.
"I'm sorry, baby. Really, I am!" And when they pull away, he asks, "Are you ready to go?"
"Yeah." And before Su-bong backs out of the driveway, he pulls out the gummies and sets them on the console between them. "I got this for you."
Su-bong's eyebrows raise and he grins. "Hey, thanks!" He presses a quick kiss to Nam-gyu's temple before pulling out. And just like that, home falls away, slowly, little by little, until they're surrounded by nothing but empty land and the infinite night sky. This time, there's no music. No wind flowing through his ears, no nothing. Just Su-bong's solemn expression, his growing exhaustion, and the endless, winding road ahead of them.