"His unknowing is where I want to crawl right into the heart of him and stay there, fingers-locked, mouths breathing the same soft air, pink skin and tired eyes and beyond love, above love, again and again and again." 

September 23rd, 2016

This is not the last time that Doyoung is going to see Jaehyun, or Professor Jung as he prefers to be referred to as on university grounds, embracing someone else; this time around, that person is a lovely woman, whose ambiguous caramel scent is strong enough to infilitrate Doyoung’s senses from meters away. She’s slender, laughs a lot and is adorned by expensive brand names from head to toe. She has s, long curls that reach to her hips and a mouth painted scarlet red.

When compared to her glowing presence, Doyoung is not remarkable in any way. He would even go as far as to say that he is naught but a simple, barely legal boy that’s rarely ever seen in anything but wears cerulean skinny jeans and sweaters, sometimes   black and sometimes rose depending on his mood. Today it’s black, as black and empty as his heart feels as he watches Mr. Jung laugh at one of Lady Caramel’s jokes.

Doyoung sighs. Even as he spiced things up by dyeing his short locks to a playful dark clementine, a few strands of red and blonde sneaked into the already strange mesh — he’s just Kim Doyoung. A regular, almost handsome tryhard that turns indistinguishable among the sea of students crowding campus.

Lady Caramel’s too busy sending playful punches to Professor Jung’s concrete chest to acknowledge the boy that's paused a couple of meters from them, glaring jealous holes through her head. Only Professor Jung notices, as usual, and sends Doyoung one of his provocative smirks; one of those smirks that leaves Doyoung weak in the knees even from across the street, sometimes maybe even breathless.

But Professor Jung’s eyes have departed from him as soon as they landed, re-focused on Lady Caramel and her elegant dominance. He interrupts her before she can complete her sentence, wrapping an arm around her waist and steering her back towards the entrance and further from Doyoung.

Doyoung stays in the courtyard, eyes on the picturesque couple till they are completely out of his sight. He feels alone, even though he’s got more friends than anyone could ever wish for surrounding him in this very moment. 

He barely pays them any mind though, only pretending to do so as a distraction; he adds casual remarks to the heated debates, laughs when expected and bobs his head in agreement every now and then. Nobody comments on his slumped shoulders, the sweat pebbles drenching his palms or the quiet agony hidden behind his warm demeanor.

He’s a master of persuasion against everyone except for himself and a pair of dark almond eyes belonging to one of his friends. Doyoung’s oval eyes, a blend of dark mahogany close to black and peaceful innocence, move to that person's gaze; the person doesn’t spring back in surprise or even bother to pretend that he’s been staring at something behind Doyoung. Instead that person faces him head on, a hint of sympathy somewhere in them, asking “are you okay?”

And as desperately as Doyoung longs to admit “no, I’m not okay” — he knows those words are forbidden and as soon as they are breathed, it's the end to whatever he and Professor Jung have going on. Doyoung is scared of the end, so instead he gulps down his reluctance and pretend that he received a text. It's a subtle response, it’s also a lie saying, “yes, I’m okay - don’t mind me”. 

Professor Jung taught Doyoung a lot more than just sociology. He also taught him how to lie. 

 ❀

Sometimes before Doyoung goes to sleep at night, as he tumbles around the lonely cold sheets of his bed in the search for heat, he’s haunted by nightmares even though his eyes are pried wide open. He’s haunted by secret desires, yearning to become something that he is not and never can be.

Doyoung yearns to be a woman.

Doyoung yearns to be that woman.

He yearns to be a reputable lady from a lavish background, a lady that holds her nose up high enough to reach the clouds, a lady that parents would beg to marry their sons — because you need to be at least that outstanding for a man of Jung Jaehyun's status to consider having you rooted at his side as a decoration.

But Doyoung can never be her, he can only take some comfort in knowing that though that woman may always be Jaehyun's number one choice, she's never going to be the one that can understand his heart.

Because Jaehyun’s heart is tied around Doyoung's neck in the shape of a coal black choker, an oval-shaped rune attached to the center of the leather. And Doyoung never removes that choker, even as he kneels down on his knees and sends his prayers to god every night. Begging for his forgiveness for his sins.

But then the sun rises, and the morning comes, and Doyoung sins again. 

 ❀

Doyoung and Jaehyun met about a year ago, back before Lady Caramel stepped into the picture, back before Jaehyun used to sneak clementine-scented notes into his backpack, back before Doyoung started to refer to him by more names than he should, back when Jaehyun smelled like apple soap, or morning coffee, or tobacco, or musky cologne instead of Lady Caramel’s latest perfume.

Back before Doyoung began to sin.

Doyoung had been a bright student, too happy and too cheerful for someone that's about to be buried under eternal stacks of assignments and exams on sociology. Perhaps that colorful ignorance and shielded mindset that can only be found in babies is what caught Jaehyun's interest to start. Because he surely could not have been interested in Doyoung's looks.

He’s not ugly, but he’s not special.

There was and still are plenty of more good-looking students than him spread over campus, ranging from foreign ones to Seoul-born kids. There’s plenty of smarter and richer ones, too. Plenty for Jaehyun to pick from.

Doyoung is just a fortunate guy that gained acceptance to such an acclaimed university because someone else dropped out last second. He doubted his knowledge and talent for long because of that, being the second choice and hence not as deserving of being there as the rest of the students — that is where Professor Jung steps into the picture.

Professor Jung is only one of his many teachers, not to mention just an assistant professor — which is still a rather impressive achievement at his young age, but he has a lasting impact that quickly makes him popular among everyone that meets him. Contrary to most stern professors and sour-faced lecturers, Jaehyun’s always in a sing-song mood and relaxed but still firm when it comes to his students. 

Atop of that, he’s undeniably handsome, clothed in a sensual black from head to toe. Shiny black shoes, ironed black pants, black shirt, a matching black leather jacket wrapped around his graceful waist, black rimmed glasses and black obedient locks smoothly gelled back. It's a stark but aesthetic contrast against his creamy skin.

But more than that, what drew Doyoung to him isn’t that but the way that Jaehyun would encourage him to take more of a role in everything, ranging from actual schoolwork to outside campus opportunities to improve his CV. Jaehyun would always probe for his thoughts and opinions on the lecture's topic, too. Even on times that Doyoung only babbled nonsense, Jaehyun would nod in approval as if he made any actual sense.

It helped Doyoung gain confidence that he's never held in his grasp before, slowly becoming more and more sure of his theories and statements. When he aced one of his verbal assignments, he approached his professor to thank him. He swears to this day that he had no other intentions at that time... or at least he thinks he didn't.

 ❀

October 3rd, 2015

“Professor Jung, just a second!” Doyoung shouts, jogging over the empty parking lot to catch up with his professor. Heaving for short breaths, he’s able to reach him just in time before he steps inside his car. “Just... just let me catch my breath.”

“Oh my, look at what the cat dragged in.” The older man sends him an amused smirk, hands running through his neat strands. “You sure are in a rush this evening, I’m assuming you must have something important to say?” 

Doyoung blushes, shrugging shyly. “I wouldn’t say it’s important.”

“Good, because I don’t mind if it’s something trivial either. You’re free to speak to me whenever you need — and please Doyoung, refer to me simply as Jaehyun when we’re alone.” Jaehyun leans down to reach Doyoung's height, breathing softly against his flushed ear, “it’s a special privelige just for you, my favorite student.”

“I’m your favorite?” Doyoung gasps, surprised.

“Why wouldn’t you be?” Jaehyun counters, another devious smirk on display.

Doyoung pouts, not convinced. “No way, you’re lying!”  

Jaehyun laughs, not denying Doyoung’s suspicion as he straightens his back. 

Doyoung would be lying if he says he did not enjoy the lack of personal space they shared only moments ago, but he merely dismisses it as an unconcious longing for heat. He’s freezing out here, even though he’s wearing the warm sweater his grandma knit for him last Christmas.

“You look cold,” Jaehyun remarks, smirk changing into a frown, “how are you planning to get home?”

“By bus, probably.” Doyoung doesn’t reside on campus, his parents rented an apartment for him a couple of blocks from here. “Speaking of the bus, I should be checking the time. I hope it hasn’t left already.”

“Sounds troublesome.” Jaehyun’s husky voice stops him before he can even as much as reach for his phone. “Let’s make things simpler — I’ll give you a ride home.”

“But isn’t that going to be troublesome for you?”

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