Into The Thrill

The sound of the cellphone's ringtone rang monotonously in the dark. Haewon was lying face down on the bed. A hand lightly placed on his bare back grazed his shoulder blades. It was a signal to get up and answer the phone. Haewon did not move.

The ringtone continued to sound, not cutting off. Realizing that the person calling wasn’t about to give up before Haewon answered, the man, slowly reacting to his light sleep, finally groaned in Haewon’s place and got up from the bed.
"Leave it."
Haewon was awake. He could feel the man's gaze pausing as it looked down at him. Haewon spoke again.

"Leave it. It’ll disconnect if you keep this up."
"It's already the second time it's ringing."
To be precise, it was the third time.

The ringtone faintly cut off, and after a few minutes, it rang again. The people who called Haewon were predictable: the man lying beside him, his stepmother who called once a month to give him a meager living allowance, a high school acquaintance, and a few others.
The current call was likely from a high school classmate. He usually called late at night. He was the same type as Haewon—getting aroused by looking at men and releasing through them.
Ugh, how annoying.

Haewon buried his head under the pillow and dug deeper into the bed, finding a place to hide from the things bothering him.
The man, °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° sitting up, kissed Haewon’s bare back and got out of the bed. Refusing the wide residence offered by the record label, the man stayed at a hotel.
Whenever he came to Korea, he stayed at this hotel, whether for a few weeks or just a few days. He mostly stayed in the same room, right below the executive lounge.

Haewon’s phone was on the meeting room table, not in the bedroom. The man, not having walked far from the bed, saw the phone, the ringtone still sounding, and went to the meeting room to bring it back.
Haewon shifted the pillow and turned over, lying on his back with a messy appearance. The clock on the wall read 2:00 AM. The man sat with the phone in hand, leaning against the headboard. His face showed he was fully awake.
Haewon silently watched as the man casually looked through his phone without asking for permission.

"...Lee Taeshin? Who is he?"
The man glanced at Haewon while checking the missed calls. His eyes, sharp, weren’t filled with curiosity, but suspicion. Haewon was still lying on the bed, buried deep under the covers, looking up at his face.
"One thirty, one forty-eight, two... called three times."

His memory was accurate.
"Lee Taeshin, sounds like a man’s name. Who is he?"
"High school friend."
Although Haewon was a year younger, Taeshin had told him not to treat him like a senior or an older brother. Haewon didn’t want to call him that either, as they were only a year apart. He didn’t feel like he was a senior, and calling him an older brother was absurd. He didn’t even want to consider Taeshin a friend. In fact, Taeshin was just someone Haewon knew from the same high school.

Not wanting to elaborate, Haewon simply responded "high school friend" and turned his body away from the man. He was only wearing boxer briefs. Haewon’s gaze naturally moved down to the man’s lower body.
"Are you close? Calling three times at this hour. Isn’t that rude in Korea?"
It was rude in America too. The man had grown up in the U.S. and lived there, seemingly unaware that manners didn’t differ much between Korean and American etiquette. He seemed to want Haewon to confirm what was universally polite.

"I told you to leave it."
"Is he a stalker? This could be worth reporting."
The man rummaged through the call history, not just for today but for past calls, and spoke. The number of people who called Haewon was limited.

His stepmother, Taeshin, and senior Choi. Whenever the man came to Korea, there were occasionally new names added to the call list, but mostly, it remained the same.
The people who reached out to Haewon were few, and Haewon had just as few people he reached out to. He mostly had a phone to order delivery. His busy father rarely contacted him, and his stepmother, wanting to exert influence over him, called frequently. Like Taeshin, she had a habit of rambling about things Haewon didn’t care to listen to.
Haewon answered Taeshin’s calls once out of every ten, while he answered his stepmother’s calls as quickly as possible to avoid her cutting off the money she was supposed to give him.

The man’s face, scanning the missed call list, grew serious, but the phone rang again. He showed Haewon the screen. It was Taeshin.
"Persistent friend. Aren’t you going to pick up?"
He held the phone out to Haewon, wanting him to answer so he could hear the conversation.

Haewon didn’t want to pick up. Annoyed, he frowned. The man’s expression turned playful. He took the phone and answered on Haewon’s behalf. It was clear from the start that he intended to do so. Haewon didn’t stop him.
"Hello. This is Moon Haewon’s phone. Yes, that’s right. Do you know what time it is? Excuse me, but what’s your relationship with Mr. Moon Haewon?"
The man deliberately lowered his voice, wanting to intimidate Taeshin. Seeing his relaxed expression, it seemed things were going as planned.

Taeshin was the type of person who would shrink and apologize in fear when intimidated. Haewon listened, uninterested, to the pointless conversation on the phone.
"I see. He’s right here. Do you want me to pass the phone to him?"
The man, having quickly sensed that Taeshin had no charm that would make Haewon interested in him, answered kindly and handed the phone to Haewon with a generous attitude.

Haewon had no interest in such people. The fact that the man immediately understood that Taeshin had no pull wasn’t because he was particularly sharp. Anyone could tell what kind of person Taeshin was after a few words.
His lack of charisma, the flimsy tone of his speech, and his simplistic, crude choice of words. People who lacked charm felt petty alongside poverty, as was common in today’s society.
Relaxing his guard, the man pressed the phone to Haewon’s ear, showing concern. Haewon, reluctantly, spoke into the phone.

"Hello."
—Haewon. Who was the person you just spoke to?
"A person I know."

—Are you together? Just the two of you?
"I have work to do."
Haewon, still holding the phone, closed his eyes. The man, who had been sitting up with his back against the headboard, now lay down on the bed, turning his body toward Haewon and caressing his side. His touch and warmth came closer.

The air in the royal suite was dry. Haewon’s skin felt parched. The man’s bare skin pressed against him. Heat lingered as his lips brushed Haewon’s shoulder, neck, and nape one after the other. Haewon didn’t move. His hair swept over Haewon’s body. Haewon was working with someone he knew. It was late at night.
—Today, I talked to that person for the first time.
"Ah."

These days, the reason Taeshin called Haewon was always to talk about 'that person.' He was the man Taeshin had a crush on. Haewon didn’t want to know. He didn’t care who Taeshin liked, why he liked him, how they crossed paths, or what their conversations were like. Haewon had no interest in the details about that man and didn’t want to hear them.
Haewon wasn’t the type to care about others. Especially when it came from someone who wasn’t even a friend. But because Taeshin kept telling him, Haewon inevitably learned about the man Taeshin was infatuated with.
He was a prosecutor, tall, good-looking, and all the other details, blah blah blah.

"Do you know Han Mi-hee? She came to the recital. She came with President Kim Jeong-geun of HanKyung Group. Do you know President Kim? He's well acquainted with my father. So, after hesitating, I started a conversation. His voice was really nice too. I saw him up close. His eyelashes are really long. You'd know if you saw him. He's really handsome. It’s hard to describe, but anyway, he’s very handsome."
"Still, it was more surprising that someone who majored in sculpture would describe his appearance as unremarkable compared to that very handsome man."
The man's lips traveled down Haewon’s shoulder and arm to his chest. He lay Haewon down on his side, then licked his nipples as if tasting them with the tip of his tongue. Haewon covered his eyes with his arm.

"Are you listening?"
"…I'm listening."
Haewon barely responded. Taeshin's high praise for the man continued.

Haewon had never seen him. From Taeshin's words, this man had an otherworldly appearance.
Descriptions of a tall stature, broad shoulders, a body honed by exercise, delicate eyelashes, a well-shaped nose, and lips so attractive that even hearing curses, one would want to speak to him once sounded so fantastical that it sometimes made Haewon laugh dismissively.
Haewon’s nipples hardened from the stimulation. The man gently bit them with his lips. Haewon closed his eyes and imagined Taeshin’s 'him,' whimsically.

"Ah."
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, nothing at all."

The man who had been licking Haewon's chest chuckled lightly. His lips moved from the chest to the belly, then above the pelvis. Finally, Haewon lowered his hand and grabbed the man’s hair, strongly urging him to stop.
"But it seems he has a girlfriend. He didn't bring her to Mi-hee's recital, but he refused when someone offered to introduce him to someone else. He must have someone he's seeing, or maybe he's just not interested in dating. Being a prosecutor is a busy job."
"Just let it go. It’s pointless."

He didn't want to listen to his complaints.
Haewon always spoke bluntly to Taeshin. Unaware of the annoyance, Taeshin trusted Haewon more, thinking he was the only one around him who gave frank advice. Haewon often bitterly regretted showing such a side to him during high school. It was his own careless fault. Haewon had inadvertently become Taeshin's closest friend, sharing the same sexual identity.
It had been ten years. Unlike Taeshin, Haewon did not consider him his closest friend. Taeshin's relentless calling was also evident with that man.

They met by chance at a public event and Taeshin cautiously approached the man he fell for at first sight, and within a month, they had exchanged names and even shaken hands, regardless of whether the man remembered or not. Taeshin seemed to consider it progress.
Friends of the opposite sex should never give dating advice, much less between friends of the same sex and their gay relationships.
The man who had been licking above Haewon's groin pulled down his underwear. Holding his phone, Haewon looked down at him. Their eyes met, filled with a red desire.

"Haewon, are you listening to me? What do you think?"
"I'm not thinking anything."
"What would you do?"

"I'd give up. There’s no point in liking a straight guy. You'd only get hurt."
He was sincere. This time, he sincerely advised Taeshin, but he was ignored. It was a trait of all those who were hopelessly in love.
The man lightly sucked Haewon’s penis into his mouth. Haewon tilted his head back and lay buried in the bed. The man relentlessly pushed between his legs. Haewon covered his mouth to muffle the sounds so Taeshin wouldn't hear.

Taeshin was still praising the man. It was doubtful whether the man was worth such praise. Taeshin's 'him' was undoubtedly a playboy who used a slightly better-than-average appearance and a somewhat superior status to change women frequently, usually not lasting even a month. Expecting loyalty from those who were good-looking was the dumbest thing.
Haewon's breathing became ragged.
"I woke up. Let’s talk later…, call me later."

"Ah, really? Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I’ll call you later. Make sure to answer, okay?"
"Got it. Hang up, let’s end this."
Haewon didn't wait for Taeshin's response and ended the call. He carelessly threw his phone beside the bed and grabbed the man’s hair tightly.

"It hurts, ah…!"
The man's tongue strongly suctioned Haewon’s tender skin. As he tightened his grip around Haewon's throat, a climax approached. Haewon thrust his hips. He had already climaxed twice in bed with the man today, and though there was nothing left, his lower body was too lightly engulfed in hot excitement.
Haewon ejaculated into the man’s mouth, trembling. The man who caught it with his mouth pulled out a tissue and spat the fluid onto it.

His lips were smiling. Haewon looked at him resentfully with tearful eyes.
The man who had slowly climbed up spreading Haewon’s legs, mounted on top of Haewon. His fully erect member prodded below. Haewon wrapped his arms around the man’s shoulders. He buried his face in the man's neck and shook as he penetrated.
The well-sprung bed creaked.

"Let go of my hand. I have to start recording from tomorrow."
"The fee doesn’t match up, so I'm not doing it. Some get a hefty advance and even housing."
"You have to raise your own value."

Wearing sunglasses like a mask and hiding his expression, he smiled in response to Haewon's indifferent words. He often smiled at him. It meant he liked Haewon.
The hotel restaurant on Friday morning was quiet. They were the only ones eating brunch, and others had coffee or tea on the table, quietly talking, balancing with the music playing in the background.
Haewon and the man sat at a table where the morning sunlight came in clearly through the hotel front window. Because of the sunlight, everyone avoided that spot, so it was deserted around them.

He had a daily quota of sunlight exposure. Even with sunglasses, he still had an hour’s worth of sunlight left to catch.
Haewon squinted his eyes under the direct sunlight and sipped his coffee. Haewon also sunbathed with him. If he didn’t expose his body to the sun enough in summer, he would suffer from colds in winter. Suddenly, he wanted to go to Bangkok.
"Did you know his eyelashes are also a transparent brown?"

He reached out his hand to touch Haewon’s cheek, and with his thumb, he stroked Haewon’s eyelashes. Taeshin had praised the man's eyelashes for a long time last night. Haewon had never seen the man. From Taeshin's words, he was the most perfect and best man in the world. It was doubtful that such a perfect man existed. People who have crushes usually see through rose-colored glasses.
His hand sadly left a trail of dust as it fell from Haewon's face. He was conscious of the surrounding eyes. He pushed up the sunglasses sliding down his nose.
"So, are you really not going to do it?"

"What are you giving me?"
"Everything you ask for."
"It's too much for someone who gets so little."

Haewon wanted nothing. He had been like that since childhood. He wanted nothing, nor did he want to become anything. His father, thinking his behavior pathetic, insisted that if Haewon wasn’t interested in studying, he should at least have one skill. His father hoped Haewon had inherited his artistic talent from his biological mother. He had Haewon try everything from piano, painting, horseback riding, to violin.
Violin was the one he stuck with the longest. When he was young, he won competitions without knowing any better. He entered music middle and high schools with the violin, and then entered college with it.
During his time at the music academy, he obtained a coveted Stradivarius2], almost three hundred years old, made of European spruce, with graceful curves and a deep, delicate tone.

He graduated college in six years with the best instrument and joined the best orchestra in Asia under the HanKyung Foundation, but he didn’t last a few months there.
If it had been a place where he could graduate, Haewon would have somehow graduated from the orchestra too. But it wasn’t a place for graduating. Haewon left the symphony orchestra and told his father he was switching to freelance.