Chapter 24b

As he stood in the entryway of the kitchen, watching YoungJae prepare the tea, his mind wandered back to earlier that evening.

The feel of the kiss.

He'd chosen YoungJae.

Even if it was only during a game; even if it was in front of all those people for the first time, he couldn't pass up the chance. JaeBum hadn't been able to express his feelings for him very well through words: either YoungJae didn't hear his words or maybe didn't want to hear them, JaeBum wasn't sure. Sometimes, it felt as though they shared the same feeling, but at other times, he wasn't so sure. But this was a way he could, even if it was for the last time, express how he felt with a tender action instead of words. He only hoped that the one he loved would feel what he was trying to convey.

As he leaned in, JaeBum wanted to look deeply into YoungJae's eyes, but he'd been looking down. For a split-second, he had considered not doing it: maybe YoungJae was avoiding his eyes because he didn't want JaeBum to kiss him. Maybe he should kiss Jia instead . . .

But he hadn't lost his nerve. He just leaned forward and kissed him.

And everyone gasped.

It wasn't the romantic first kiss JaeBum had been hoping for, but he felt his heart swell when his lips touched YoungJae's. He could remember every moment of the kiss. For the first couple of seconds, their lips just touched, but then JaeBum began to move his slowly against YoungJae's. After about half the time had elapsed, YoungJae had begun to reciprocate his movements, pressing in closer and kissing him back. He even slightly tilted his head even more so that they could kiss a little more deeply.

But then, all too soon, JoKwon called 'time' and the kiss was over.

As he leaned back, he, and everyone else, saw that YoungJae was slowly opening his eyes, as if he was savouring the feel and taste of the kiss.

It was then that their friends started to make fun of him, asking him how long it's been since he kissed somebody. It was all good-natured ribbing, but YoungJae was embarrassed all the same. He tried not to show it, though and laughed along with them.

After that, the game continued and no more was said about it, until it got too late and the party started winding down as guest after guest started to leave.

But as he now stood in the entryway, the rest of the evening had already started to fade into a blur as JaeBum recalled only the feel of YoungJae's lips on his. The kiss was so vivid and clear, it almost seemed as though he was reliving it.

But then his mind flew back to where he stood, and he noticed YoungJae picking up the tea tray.

"Let me carry that for you, YoungJae-ah," he offered taking the tray out of his dongseng's hands.

*                                 *                                 *                                 *                                 *

After they'd finished their tea, they sat quietly together. Neither moving. Neither wanting to move. JaeBum could guess how YoungJae felt about him. He could speculate as to where they would go and what they would do in the future, but he didn't want to just do this inside himself anymore. He wanted to talk to YoungJae. He wanted to see if they could . . . somehow . . . finally find their way to one another.

"How did you . . . " he cleared his throat, " . . . how did you like the party?"

"It was a lot of fun," he said.

"Fun . . . yeah . . . it was . . . " JaeBum said nervously. Fun? Is that all?

"But not really all of it," YoungJae said.

JaeBum looked into his eyes. "It wasn't?"

"No. Parts of it were . . . I don't know. . . I guess . . . more . . . not exactly fun," his gaze dropped, "  . . . more than just fun . . . "

"What parts, YoungJae?"

YoungJae coloured deeply, with anticipation and shyness.

"The part where . . . the dare . . . the part where . . . you kissed me."

JaeBum moved closer. He took a deep breath of courage and then asked:

"How did you feel about that?"

YoungJae just looked down.

JaeBum touched under his chin gently and slowly lifted it. "I liked it . . . a lot," he confessed. "Did you?"

YoungJae's eyes rose to meet his.

"Yes, I liked it . . . a lot . . . "

JaeBum, never taking his eyes from YoungJae's, leaned in slowly and just before he closed the space between them entirely, he closed his eyes.

His lips were now on YoungJae's for the second time that evening. And it was even more spectacular than the first, because for them, this was really the first time. It wasn't a game, it was real, true feeling passing between them as their mouths melded together in loving tenderness. When the kiss ended, JaeBum and YoungJae looked at each other steadily.

"I love you," JaeBum breathed against YoungJae's lips. "I've loved you for a very long time, Choi YoungJae."

So he had meant it that time . . . it wasn't a mistake . . .

YoungJae's hands found their way to JaeBum's hair. He ran his fingers through it, lightly it with his fingertips.

"I love you," he said, then he looked down. "I just never thought you would ever love me," he admitted.

JaeBum took YoungJae's face in his hands. "You're so silly," he said smiling. "But, if I tell the truth, I never thought you'd love me either."

"But Hyung, you're so handsome and you were always so popular," YoungJae protested. "And I'm so . . . "

"Perfect?"

YoungJae blushed at the excessive flattery.

"Okay, not absolutely perfect, no one is perfect. But, you're perfect for me, YoungJae-ah."

YoungJae had always been shy but now he didn't feel very shy at all. Now that JaeBum had said that he not only loved YoungJae, but had loved him for a long time, YoungJae's courage grew. He pushed JaeBum back onto the sofa and hovered over him for a moment before he began to kiss him passionately.

"YoungJae-ah . . . " JaeBum breathed in between deep, hot kisses as his mouth was seized by YoungJae's.

As he wrapped his arms around him, pressing their bodies closer he thought, I never knew YoungJae was like this . . .

As their kisses deepened and their bodies heated in raw, honest passion, he thought,

. . . I like it.

*                                 *                                 *                                 *                                 *

As soon as the plane landed, everything seemed to go in a combination of fast- and slow-motion. It seemed to take no time at all to disembark, to collect his bag and to get a taxi. But JinYoung's mind was so filled with thoughts, everything felt as though it had been agonizingly slowed down; he felt like he was sleepwalking through it all. Images of MiRa the last time he saw her and snatches of their conversation were haunting him. Every time he recalled what they'd said to one another, he closed his eyes tightly as if to shut it out.

And then there were the images of Mark.

Mark had trusted him. He didn't have any idea of what had happened. He just took JinYoung back without questions and without doubt, and now . . .

Mark still trusted him. Believed in him. He hadn't tried to phone him again since JinYoung texted. And JinYoung knew he wouldn't. He would wait. Patiently. Lovingly. Trustingly.

JinYoung screamed inside. He felt as if his stomach had risen up into his throat. He didn't deserve Mark. He felt his insides throb in anguish. He wanted Mark so much. But he didn't deserve him. What could he do? What was he supposed to do now?

And his mother's voice . . .

He wouldn't have to wait very long before he heard that again.

The taxi had come to a stop in front of his parent's house.

*                                 *                                 *                                 *                                 *

"She called me crying. She called me! Why did she have to call me? Because you weren't around.  You are the first person who should have heard, but you weren't because you weren't here," his mother shouted.

JinYoung just hung his head. He was too ashamed to raise it. He never thought this would ever be a conversation he and his mother would ever have.

"And that's not all she told me. She told me how you treated her." His mother's voice now dropped to an angry hush. "How could you sleep with her and then disappear the next morning? How could I have raised a son to do something like that? How could you have done that? How must MiRa have felt? Did you think for one moment about her feelings? Do you think a young woman like MiRa does that sort of thing with just anyone? Didn't you think it was anything important for her? How could you use her and discard her like that without a care?"

I didn't use her, JinYoung thought. But he knew better than to speak.

"Why did you leave her?" she continued. "Did Mark phone you crying to you about some problem? Is that why you did such a heartless thing?"

Don't . . .

"I know you were friends, but to tell the truth, I was relieved when he finally left. Yes, relieved! I knew it made things hard for you at work, but I thought once he was gone you would finally grow up," she scolded.

Then she began to speak as if to herself, "I thought that since he was gone, things would be better between you and MiRa; that you would act like a man for once, not like a boy living in a college dorm . . . " she muttered. "But no, he just doesn't know when to let go, that one. He's still dragging you into his life, even when he's so far away. All he has to do is call and you drop everything and go running! Even after something like this! I thought he went away to finally start a life of his own, but I must have been wrong . . . "

Don't . . . he begged inwardly.

"I thought he might have even found a girlfriend. But now . . . I'm beginning to think . . . "

Then she paused and looked at her son JinYoung in the eyes.

"I'm beginning to think there's something strange about Mark. I know that you only see him as a good friend, but I think . . . well, just don't let him drag you into anything wrong, JinYoung-ah."

At these words, JinYoung lifted his eyes to meet hers.

"What do you mean by that?" he said with steel behind his words.

"Never mind what I mean. I'm just saying that there's something strange about the way he clings to you. It's as if . . . well, it's not normal."

"Don't talk about him like that," JinYoung said, his voice changing almost to a growl. "He never called me. I wanted to go see him."

His insides started to go nuts.

"Mark isn't clinging to me. If anything, we're clinging to each other. We've always clung to each other."

"All I'm saying is . . . "

"Well don't just say . . . " JinYoung interrupted, raising his voice.

"JinYoung-ah!" Mrs Pak said, hurt. "Mind yourself! . . .  Do you see what I mean? I can't even talk to my own son now. How could you raise your voice to me?"

JinYoung couldn't trust himself to answer.

"Whatever Mark thinks about you is not my business: a stranger is not my business.

A stranger? You used to call him your son. You used to treat him like a son. Now he's a stranger?

"This family is my business. MiRa is my business. What are you going to do about her? I'm sorry to tell you this, but you can't just run back to play games with Mark! This is real life! What are you going to do about her? What are you going to do about your child?" Mrs Pak demanded.

JinYoung lowered his head.

His child . . .

"A child is the most important thing. There is nothing that can ever be more important than your child. That is a part of you. A part of you that will live on. Your child carries your name, your hopes, your dreams. They love you and you always love them, no matter what.

Would you love me, if I told you . . . ? Umma, would you really love me no matter what? If I thought you would, I could have told you the truth about myself . . . about how much Mark and I feel for each other . . . but even because you only think he might . . . and now he's a stranger. Would I become a stranger, too?

Mrs Pak drew herself up. "I haven't told your father . . . yet. And I told MiRa not to tell her parents until we figure out what to do. But you have to do something fast, JinYoung. This isn't just her burden to carry. It's yours. And I see no reason why she should have to stand in front of her parents ashamed and alone, so the faster you take care of this responsibly, the better."

Mrs Pak had a few more choice things to say, but JinYoung hardly heard her. All he could think about was his child. MiRa. And Mark.

Mark . . . he thought desperately.

*                                 *                                 *                                 *                                 *

"That's what . . .  you've been doing . . .  this whole time?" JinYoung puffed.

"Great, isn't it?" Mark asked circling him.

"How can you keep going? I feel like I'm going to collapse."

"It'll stop feeling that way in a week or two. As long as you come here regularly."

"What's . . . regularly?"

"A couple three times a week," Mark grinned.

"No way . . . no . . . way," JinYoung breathed, bent over at the waist.

Mark stopped skipping around and came over to JinYoung offering him a water bottle. He took a deep draught and then wiped the sweat off of his forehead with the back of his glove.

"Okay . . . I'm ready to go on," he panted resolutely.

"Jackson! He says he's ready to go," Mark called. Then he remarked quietly to JinYoung, "you're lucky it's not GaYeon. Jackson is taking it a little easier on you, but GaYeon . . . she's a monster," he smiled.

Jackson returned to the training area looking completely refreshed. "Ready to go again?"

JinYoung just took one look at the fire in his eyes, and his energetic movements. He was convinced that Jackson had been possessed by some sort of sports demon.

JinYoung, sensing that things were not going to go well, glanced over at Mark pitifully.

"Help," he whimpered.

"Now you're all fresh and clean. Don't you feel good?" Mark asked. They had returned from training and cleaned up. Mark was now smoothing his hands through JinYoung's hair sweetly. But Jinyoung felt nothing even akin to sweetness. Mark was standing in front of him in his underwear and a tank top. That particular combination was JinYoung's weakness.

But he was just so worn-out from the training . . .

"If feeling good means feeling like I'm about to pass out from exhaustion, then, yes, I feel great . . . "

"Lie down on the bed and I'll give you a massage. Jackson showed me how to do this. It helps to reduce the soreness you're going to feel tomorrow. And the next day, and . . . "

"Thanks. Just thinking about it makes my muscles ache," JinYoung said.

"Jinnie, you have two choices: either let me massage you or do some resistance-stretching exercises. Name your poison."

"I have to stand up for the exercises, don't I?"

"Yes."

JinYoung threw himself immediately on the bed.

"Good choice," Mark smiled.

"What are you doing now?" JinYoung asked.

"The massage is over, so I'm wiping off all the excess oil," Mark answered.

JinYoung rolled over onto his back.

"You don't have to do that just yet, do you?"

"JinYoung! Cover yourself!" Mark exclaimed in a playful panic.

"What? Like what you see? Can't control yourself?" JinYoung smirked.

"I thought you were exhausted," Mark said, eying him suspiciously.

"Well . . . there's exhausted . . . and then there's exhausted," he flirted, gliding his hand from his thigh in one languid movement up to his abdomen, then to his chest. He his fingertips across his collarbones teasingly.

Mark's eyes darkened as they travelled the entire length of JinYoung's body, finally ending with their eyes joining in heated desire.

"Come to me," JinYoung said softly.

"JinYoung . . . " Mark said, his voice smouldering as he lay beside the man he loved.

"Something tells me that thanks to Jackson's sadistic regimen I might not be able to move tomorrow, so I want to be with you tonight. That's not a problem, is it?" his lover asked.

Mark leaned over without a moment's hesitation and kissed JinYoung deeply. As their lips connected, Mark slid over on top of JinYoung, his tongue against his lover's lips until they parted. Then he entered his mouth almost forcefully as JinYoung groaned in excitement. He slid his hand behind Mark's head and pressed him closer to him. His other hand kneaded Mark while pressing his hips forward to rub sensuously against him.

"Mr Pak, you're so aggressive," Mark said once he'd pulled back just a little. "Do you really want me that much?" His mouth smiled, but his eyes were burning with lust.

JinYoung just answered by flipping Mark onto his back with a hungry smile.

*                                 *                                 *                                 *                                 *

All of these moments flitted across JinYoung's brain in a matter of seconds. But he was left with an indelible print of the sight, the touch, the smell, the taste, the sound of Mark. Talking with him. Listening to him. Eating with him. Walking with him. Working with him. Smiling with him. Holding his hand. Everything. Everything was Mark and he wanted everything with him. How could he be expected to let him go?

If his mother was right about only one thing, it was that he had to do something. He had to be responsible and handle the situation as she said, 'the faster, the better'.

*                                 *                                 *                                 *                                 *

Once he'd returned home from his parents' house later that evening, he dialled a number.

"Hello, it's me. We have to talk."

Please don't forget to comment, subscribe and upvote. Thanks.

.gif not mine