CHAPTER 5

Gwanju, 2006

The river that had been Seungri’s secret place, after a couple of months, became without a single trace of doubt their spot on earth. No one knew or cared about that place but them; thus no eyes ever tainted what occurred and was built at the shore of its waters. For Jiyong who had never met a feeling such as that one of sharing a secret with someone, it all happened and felt deliciously foreign. The loud twisting of his belly at the thought of having a friend just of his, the low buzzing inside his head reminding him of the strange fullness that now impregnated his every day, the calm against the storm that had been preying over him recently… It all happened without Jiyong giving a single double thought of why, when or how.

There was only one thing that bugged Jiyong’s happiness. After that rainy afternoon inside his father’s shed, Seungri hadn’t approached or come closer to him as he had done that day. He still smiled at him with that tinge of unspoken tenderness that overwhelmed Jiyong’s thoughts every single time; but his hands and lips seemed to have enforced themselves to remain away from Jiyong’s personal space as much as possible. And the few times they brushed Jiyong’s skin it was quick and uncertain. Jiyong found himself hating such distance.

Above them the hot summer days had turned into stormy, grey skies. The damp paths of earth and mud crossing through the fields now were nothing else but marshlands. And only two people dared to run and made their way through the sludge. With their bared feet they chased each other, feet sliding endlessly over the slippery mud and rocks. But their smiles never faltered, stretched from ear to ear, at the knowledge of one being there for the other.

“I’ll catch you!” Seungri called out at his back with a roar after Jiyong had none but thrown a ball of mud to his face in his attempt to flee away from him. With certain hops from rock to rock he opened his way through the flooded path, swinging his arms by his side to keep him from falling, “Come here!” he heard Seungri’s yell closer.

As per usual, Jiyong face ended up half buried under the mud. The smell of herd and rain permeated his nostrils. Seungri’s weight pressed over his lower back where he sat, pining him between his legs. The side of his face untouched by dirt blown by Seungri’s fast breathing. He tried his best to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks and neck when he realized he really was not making any effort to wiggle his way out from Seungri’s hold. And the fact he was happier, ironically, to end up pinned to the floor by his best friend than away from him.

It was one of those sudden hints of realization what pulled Jiyong one of those days out of the water to stare at the figure of his best friend. He was not too far away from him, floating peacefully above the waters. Jiyong’s eyes roamed over his friend’s sleepy face, the smooth fullness of his lips, the long line of his outstretched neck, the bareness of his chest that ended up in slim hips and… Jiyong’s eyes closed abruptly. When he dared to open them again Seungri was looking back at him, no longer floating but staring at him with curious intensity. His head was tilted to one side; his lips were slightly parted as if he was about to say something yet nothing was said. When the depth in Seungri’s eyes became too much for him, Jiyong did what he knew best. He blinked fast and before anything could be said he sank under the water, successfully hiding the burning redness on his face.

When he resurfaced to take a breath of fresh air Seungri was no longer looking his way but facing away from him, with his hands splashing water on his face. Jiyong stared at the bending of his back muscles every time he splashed more water, now on his neck and shoulders. The drops of water ran over his pale skin until disappearing below the surface in an alluring way. In a moment of impulsivity, Jiyong swam closer, his eyes not looking away from Seungri’s skin and he, suddenly, found his hands stretched and falling over Seungri’s shoulder and sliding down his arms. Under his touch, Seungri stiffened and his hands stopped moving, frozen in front of him. Jiyong listened to the soft whimper that escaped from his friend’s lips. Seungri turned slowly; his eyes shinned with questions while they studied him over. But his hands remained frozen, as if Seungri could see the internal battle inside Jiyong’s head and had given up the lead, the decision of what to do next, only to him.

Jiyong gulped, and his hands slid up Seungri’s arms once again, shaky and doubtful. They stopped until both hands were cupping Seungri’s face between them. Seungri, who had stared silently at Jiyong’s movements, finally opened his mouth to say something but Jiyong silenced him placing one finger over his lips. Jiyong’s stare dropped from his eyes down to his lips, up to his eyes and once again down at his lips. In a wavering movement, Jiyong closed the distance until their lips met. It was a flickering touch, almost inexistent. It was over before any of them could really grasp the meaning of what was happening. But both boys stood frozen in front of each other once over; one stunned to silence, the other looking down sheepishly. When Jiyong made a jerky movement to pull back, Seungri’s hands returned to life and grasped his arm and then cupped his face with a violent desperation in his movements. With more confidence than what Jiyong could ever muster up, Seungri pulled them closer once again. It wasn’t as much a kiss but a confession, for Jiyong melted right there to the openness of Seungri’s acceptance. And when Seungri’s hands slid down to search for his and their fingers intermingled under the water, Jiyong cried out a soft whimper muffled by Seungri’s lips over his. The sweetness of Seungri’s breath caressing his face once it was all over made a hot shiver ran down his spine. His half lidded eyes opened to stare into the deepness of Seungri’s gaze. He was looking at him intently, with undeniable affection. Jiyong sighed relieved and smiled, a coy smile that graced his eyes with an innocent sparkle. Seungri giggled back and pulled their foreheads together.

“Look who is finally on time for dinner,” his father snorted when he opened the door of his house that afternoon. Whatever dreamy smile Jiyong had been wearing on his face, fell into a grimace. His father looked down at him derisively, took a mouthful of rice and groaned. Behind his back Jiyong fidgeted with his hands, his lips tightened; scared they might still held evidence of what he had been doing hours before. But his father attention didn’t last long and with a low groan he turned his attention to the food in front of him. Jiyong was no fool. He could see through his father’s annoyance. The rice fields were silent, but the ones working on them were not. And his father wasn’t pleased at all with his new recent friendship with a “city boy “as he so stubbornly settled to call Seungri. 

Jiyong sat down on the table and avoided looking at his father, the only safe way he knew to avoid confrontations. But this time his mellow demeanor gained him the opposite reaction.

“Since you been hanging out with that city boy your house is no longer worth your presence, huh?” his father asked with his mouth full of rice and fish, a sneer on his lips. He took a loud sip of water and smacked the glass of water with a strong thud against the table. His eyes glared at Jiyong. His mother flinched at his side and sneaked a tender, supportive smile at his son.

“He has always been a free spirit, dear,” his mother interrupted with a calm voice, and touched his father’s shoulder in an attempt to calm his anger. But his father’s eyes turned cold and jerked away from his mother’s touch. The rest of the dinner he ignored Jiyong’s presence. Once finished he stood up and started cleaning his dishes with more impetuosity than necessary. That until a lightning lit the sky followed by a terrifying noise; then his father lifted his head up, looked out the window and barked something before stomping out of the house.

Jiyong stared at his father leaving the house in a hurry, anger forgotten replaced by worry. A hand over his shoulder distracted him, followed by fingers disheveling his hair. His mother smiled at him.

“It makes me so happy to see you having friends,” she whispered and pulled him into a hug, “Is he good to you?”

Jiyong’s forehead wrinkled at that question but he nevertheless nodded, hid between her arms. Her mother sighed pleased and her eyes flickered to the door where his father had stumped out minutes before.

“Your father is worried about the storm,”