His shovel strikes the ground again, breaking in the earth.  He heaves, his foot stomping on the metal to drive it in deep.  He scoops up the dirt and throws it to the side, repeatedly, making the hole in the ground larger.  He stops for a second, the back of his hand swiping over his sweaty forehead, his hair sticking on the sides.  He lifts his head up with the sun, his breaths labored, and the air sharp on the sides of his lungs.  The heat starts buzzing in his head, recoiling around his neck and falling in drips down his back.

“Here,” a hand stretches to take the shovel.  “Take a break, you’re sweating like hell.”

Dongwoo looks up to his friend, a mouth full of teeth as he hands the shovel over and heaves himself up out of the hole.  Howon takes his spot down in the pit, digging the grave with diligence that matches everything else he does in life.  It was almost finished, just another foot or so and it would be deep enough.  With one quick glance around, Dongwoo lies down on the dirt, stones poking his back in an uncomfortable way, but he’s too tired to care, too many thoughts crowded in his mind.   

He hears Howon’s voice from the pit, loud curses flaring up with the heat. 

He hollers back at him, his eyes shut from the blazing sun.  “We should’ve waited until night Howon.  I feel digging this hole in the middle of freaking daylight.”

The shoveling stops, and the air is still, but the buzz in his head is louder than ever. 

“It’s more dangerous driving around with that thing in the trunk.  Just keep watch for a while longer, I’ll finish this.  Take your clothes off too, we gotta burn those.”

It sounded like concern, probably mixed with a tinge of sympathy. On the other hand, it could be loyalty, in a very twisted way that Dongwoo would expect. 

Dongwoo drove a finger to his head, trying to burrow in his skull to find a good reason for Howon’s ways with him.  They had only met a year ago, in these very same fields during harvest season.  He still remembers it like yesterday; the crunch of grapes in his mouth, sweet honey liquid oozing out of the ripe fruit, given to him by this strange man with a dark face. 

The strange man’s name turned out to be Howon, and Howon was kind to him in a way that left a mark.  A mark that burnt in his skin, leaving him with the taste of kindness and human empathy that soaked its way to his bones.  How could a man be so giving?

On the outside he had no clue, but on the inside his soul was screaming with the obvious.  He’s drowning in his thoughts when Howon hovers over him, the shovel thrown over his left shoulder, his face as stoic as the striated muscles under his taut skin.

“Come on,” he says, and he’s bending his knees, shovel down to the floor and hands tugging on Dongwoo’s clothes to pull him up to his feet. 

“Throw it all in the pit after you undress,” and he walks off to the truck, the gravel crunching under his heavy steps.  Dongwoo sighs and unbuckles his belt, watching the truck as he pulls it out of the loops.  He strips down to his briefs, and Howon’s already hauling that thing from the trunk.  The cloth it’s wrapped in does little to hide the images from bursting into Dongwoo’s eyes again.

Howon notices.

He doesn’t say anything though, and Dongwoo silently thanks him under his breath.  He leaves the clothes in his spot, walking barefoot back to the truck and sliding into the passenger side, leaving his feet to dangle out of the door. 

The truck’s older than either of them, the smell of gasoline and worn out leather ghosting around the single cab.  Dongwoo stretches himself across the bench, staring at the rusted roof chipping away with time.  He reaches his arm up, his finger scraping at the paint, peeling it off in little chunks of red.

Dongwoo had been quiet this past year; tamed down like a little cub, with filed claws and a bound jaw like a pet on a leash, bottling up the rabid force of his being so he won’t draw attention to the strange, kind, man he found last summer.  Looking back in hindsight now, Dongwoo is pretty sure he can only blame himself. 

What now? 

He hears the door creaking above his head, Howon seating himself in the driver’s side and ramming the door closed behind him.  Dongwoo cranks his neck up, taking a good look at his friend. His insides twist in a way that makes him coil his legs, struggling and rubbing his nails across his skin.

“I’m sorry Howon.” 

It’s not loud enough, and Howon probably can’t hear it.

“We have to get you out of here.  For good.” Now Howon is staring him down and Dongwoo almost wants to punch him, defiance surging in his blood and siphoning out all his reasoning.

He grinds and minces his words before spitting them out as gently as he could.  Besides, it was his mistake to begin with.  “I’m not leaving anywhere, Howon.”

“Why the hell not?  For all you know there’s probably a warrant out for your head already.”

“I’ll hide.  They haven’t found me so far.  But I can’t leave.”

Howon’s hand is dirty and sweaty; his skin is rough and calloused from shoveling all day, but the way it rubs down Dongwoo’s face makes the black and white of his world burst into colors--vibrant, jubilant, a euphoria in his ruins.  The past 24 hours he has watched his castle of a life crumble and wash along the shore, leaving a gaping hole too large to hide.

“You can’t or you won’t.”  The way Howon says it makes Dongwoo smile, because now they’re back into their usual roles.  The role where Dongwoo doesn’t know what Howon buries in his heart, and where Howon tries too hard to cover the elephant behind his back.

 “We’ve got hours to kill before night time,” Dongwoo sits up, his bare skin sliding across the leather. “I want to try something..”

With that he reaches over, but Howon holds him back, a low rumble coming out of his throat that rolls into a clap of laughter.

“Here?”

“Yes”

“Now?”

“Wasn’t that in your head since last year.  Or was I just imagining things?”

Howon takes a while to soak in that.  In reality, it shocks him.  He’s suddenly thinking back to the guy in the bar with those coal eyes, the rocks in his drink and the smirk on his face.  His face was a carving of stone, absolutely stunning, but too hard to break with his fist.

“You look frustrated.  Maybe you could use something warm.”

“Do you normally just show up with your pretty little face asking for a ?”

He laughs in an odd way, a mess compared to his neat features.

“The only reason a good looking guy is in this place is if he can’t get what he wants.”

“Shouldn’t that apply to you too then?”

“So you think I’m good looking.  At least we agree on something. I wonder what I should call you..”

Howon bites his tongue.  Maybe this one could fill up the hole. 

“Howon.”

“Howon,” the guy nods his head, his tongue around his lips as if he’s tasting the name in his mouth.  He leans in, his shoulder rubbing against him. “Pleasure.  You can call me Myungsoo.”

A cold sheet seeps into his forehead, and Howon barks out a growl.

“Want one?” 

He’s back in the truck, Dongwoo in his lap holding a cold beer in front of him, unfazed at all.  Last summer is too frightening to think about and so Howon takes the beer and pours it down his throat, his teeth clanking with the glass before he pops it out and sighs.

The sun’s a half disc now, tucking away into the fields, the orange and black creeping up like arms over the ground.  It shouldn’t be long before nightfall, another summer night under the bare sky.

Dongwoo’s voice is far off, wilted in his premonitions.  “There’s still time before we have to light the hole..”

Time that Howon is wasting. 

His clothes are stuck to his skin, uncomfortably smothering him.  He peels off his shirt, struggling to find space in the cramped truck, Dongwoo shifting around to make room for him.  He’s left in his faded jeans and dirty boots now, Dongwoo staring at him with sultry copper eyes.  He makes it so obvious what he wants.

 “Fine.  Come here.”

It takes less than three seconds and Dongwoo’s elbows are digging in his chest, his teeth showing and his wings spreading wide. 

In the hours later, after the fire was lit and the sirens went off, you could see a small truck veering its way down the fields, disappearing into the night, a strange man and a stranger digging holes in the fields.

---

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