Into The Thrill

Woojin had looked like he was about to say something, but gave up. He turned his gaze away and lay back down on the bed, feeling around for the documents he’d tossed aside.
“What are you sorry for? What were you going to say?”

“Forget it.”
“What were you going to say? What are you sorry for?”
Haewon, irritated that he’d trailed off, snatched away the papers Woojin had been trying to grab. With no choice, Woojin sat back up, shooting him an annoyed look.

“What are you sorry for? What do you want to say?”
“You said you’ve slept with more people than you can count on both hands and feet. Said you knew over a hundred techniques.”
“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m sorry, but you’re not that attractive in that area.”
“…”
“You don’t have any technique.”

“…What?”
“I mean you’re not that great.”
Woojin tossed the words out and got off the bed. His half-naked body, dressed only in pants, walked off toward the kitchen. He cracked open a beer from the fridge and took a long drink. His Adam’s apple bobbed hard as he swallowed.

Haewon stared at him, dumbfounded.
He wanted to fire something back, argue, but all the words and rebuttals choked in his throat, refusing to come out.
Woojin did make requests sometimes, but it was usually Haewon who clung to him, begged for it, touched him first, teased him into arousal nine times out of ten.

Not that Woojin ever forced him when he didn’t want it—but Haewon suddenly couldn’t speak. His chest burned with a sad, stinging pain.
He’d slept with more people than he could count, and yet he’d never received such a cold evaluation.
It shook him. They’d all liked him first, clung to him, pursued him. Haewon had never once reached out first. Never once asked to sleep with someone.

Woojin was the first of everything. A field of untouched snow. An unexplored territory Haewon had fumbled into.
He was the first man Haewon had truly liked.
Now he felt like a piece of trash rolling on the pavement. He’d never lived conscious of his pride, but now it felt completely crushed.
He clenched his lips. Bit the soft flesh inside his mouth. His lower lip trembled as he bit it. Curled up on the bed, Haewon clenched his fists.

Woojin came out of the bathroom after washing his face, as if trying to clear his mood. He didn’t spare a glance for Haewon, who sat frozen on the bed like a statue. He just gathered the documents from beside him and sat down at the dining table.
“Go to bed first.”
He turned on the laptop he’d taken from his bag, getting back to work.

Haewon glared at him with murderous hatred.
He’d grown up without major struggles or emotional scars—aside from his mother’s death and the time he broke up with Woojin. He had no resistance to negative emotion.
He’d never lived protecting his self-esteem, but this ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) moment, as it twisted and crumbled, was unbearable. His hands trembled as he gripped the pillow he’d just been lying on.

So all the times they slept together were nothing to him. He only went along because Haewon clung and begged—never because he wanted to. The moments Woojin had seemed passionate were just reflexes to Haewon’s need.
It wasn’t just a bruise to the ego—it felt annihilated.
Haewon got off the bed.
Taeshin had said Woojin was gentle. That sleeping with him had been so good it made him want to die right there. That it was so sweet, so blissful, he thought his heart might explode. Woojin had held him with such care.

“…Get out.”
“What?”
“I said get out. Get the fuck out.”

“…”
His voice cracked. It trembled like he was on the verge of breaking into sobs.
“Don’t ever come back here again.”

“You’re the one who turned me down after getting me hard. Who do you think should be mad right now?”
“I didn’t even like sleeping with you that much either. You want a comparison? You don’t even make my top five.”
“…”

Woojin stood up. The chair screeched as it pushed back. Haewon started throwing anything he could grab. He threw a pillow, a cup, one of Woojin’s books.
Each object hit Woojin’s chest and shoulders with weight, then thudded to the floor.
“I said get out! Get out…!”

“Moon Haewon.”
“Didn’t you hear me?! Get the fuck out! Get out, you son of a bitch! What the fuck makes you so great?! Who the hell do you think you are?!”
“I told you not to call me ‘you.’”

Woojin grabbed Haewon’s wrist mid-throw. Haewon panted, thrashing in his grip. Feeling his warmth, his scent, a tidal wave of sorrow and rage surged in him.
He had liked Woojin so much. He’d even given up that thrilling new world he’d discovered through music—just for Woojin.
He had been happy just to be with him. Thankful Woojin took time for him despite being busy. So happy, he hadn’t thought about anything else. He had no pride left. Woojin was his priority. More than his career, more than his future.

He hadn’t calculated anything in front of Woojin. Woojin was everything.
The Woojin who used to whisper sweet nothings while drunk, saying he liked him, saying he loved him—he wasn’t here anymore.
“Let go! Just because I like you, you think I’ll put up with everything? How long do you think I’ll keep liking you? A year? Two? Don’t make me laugh! I’ve never played with a toy for more than a week, even ones I begged my dad to buy. You’re no different!”

“What?”
“I’m not confident I’ll like you forever either. I get sick of everything fast. What the hell is so great about Hyun Woojin? You’re nothing to me! Get out! I said get out!”
“Moon Haewon.”

Woojin grabbed Haewon roughly as he thrashed. His grip tightened. The two of them stumbled and fell together onto the bed.
Woojin used force without meaning to, trying to pin Haewon down as he resisted with all his strength.
Straddling Haewon, Woojin forced down his flailing legs. His hands, unusually warm, gripped Haewon’s wrists and pinned them hard against the bed.

“Let go! Don’t touch me! Don’t lay a hand on me!”
“Moon Haewon. Haewon!”
“Let go! Don’t touch me!”

“Haewon, listen to me.”
“I said let go!”
Eventually, the violent struggling began to fade. Haewon’s resistance weakened. Harsh breathing echoed in the air.

Haewon, dazed and close to breaking, whimpered like he was talking to himself.
“You were so good to Taeshin… Who do you think you are, treating me like this? Why are you like this to me? Was it because he was innocent? Because he was nice?”
His tear-filled eyes stared up at Woojin with betrayal.

“Do you know what Lee Taeshin said? He said sleeping with you was heaven. That you were so sweet, so gentle, he could’ve died happy. Why were you like that with him? Did you like sleeping with him more? Was he better than me?”
“…”
The moment Taeshin’s name left his mouth, Woojin’s expression hardened. Tears spilled down Haewon’s cheek. He didn’t want Woojin to see him cry—especially not like this. Especially not in this humiliating position.

Haewon turned his face and buried it in his arm. He gave one last desperate shake of his arms, but Woojin didn’t let go.
“Am I worse than him?”
The voice was wet and drained, like all his strength had been wrung out.

It hit with the kind of sorrow that clawed into your insides.
Haewon bit his lip.
To think he’d come to the point of being jealous of a dead friend. All because of this man in front of him. He’d once told himself he could never like Woojin—because he was the one Taeshin had loved. And yet here he was, crushed by inferiority to someone who was gone.

He’d never felt anything so vile in his life.
“Let me go. Just go. Please… please, just get out of my sight. Leave me alone.”
“Haewon.”

“Don’t make me feel like this. I’m begging you. Please. Just go.”
For the first time in his life, Haewon felt truly humiliated. All at once, jealousy for a dead friend, his pride—what little he had left in front of Woojin—crumbled into dust.
 

Woojin once said he liked that Haewon wasn’t clingy. That he didn’t obsess over him with a look of disgust, didn’t demand love unreasonably, didn’t wear him down. That it was comfortable, being beside someone like that.
Haewon had just poured out every single thing Woojin hated—everything he couldn’t stand, all at once, like an explosion. His hunched back trembled faintly.
When Woojin let go of him, Haewon curled up on his side and buried his face in the bedding. He wanted to burst like a soap bubble and vanish. He wanted to disappear like dust.

Haewon still vividly remembered the call Taeshin made after confessing and spending the night with Woojin.
Taeshin’s voice had been excited as he delivered the news. Woojin hadn’t coldly rejected his sudden confession. He said Woojin had been really kind to him.
"What kind of certainty?"

—“The certainty that I like him. He asked if I could take off my clothes in front of him.”
"Take off your clothes… in front of him?"
That excited, love-struck voice had said Woojin asked him: are you sure you like me—can you take off your clothes in front of me?

…What?
Haewon flinched from head to toe, his tear-drenched eyes suddenly opening.
He lifted his face from the bedding and turned toward Woojin, who was looking down at him.

“Have you calmed down a bit?”
“…”
What kind of certainty?

The certainty that you love him. The certainty that you can undress in front of him.
Take off your clothes in front of him?
That question—whether you can only take off your clothes in front of him—was something Woojin had said to Taeshin.

“What's wrong?”
“…”
He had said the same thing to Haewon. Word for word.

He’d told Haewon to undress only in front of him. Said that was what mattered.
“Haewon?”
Haewon, eyes red and flooded from crying, stared blankly up at Woojin.

—I don’t know. I ended up confessing before I could stop myself… he looked at me like I was crazy. In that moment, I honestly wanted to die. But then… he said he’d think about it.
"And?"
—Haewon, he’s really kind. We met a few times after that. And then he asked me—do you have certainty?

"What kind of certainty?"
—That you like him. That you can take off your clothes in front of him.
"Take off your clothes in front of him?"

“Moon Haewon?”
Woojin’s hand gently stroked Haewon’s cheek, which had gone slack with shock. Haewon snapped back to awareness at that touch, even though he’d already been staring. He turned to face Woojin again.
“Not just anyone—I want to take my clothes off only in front of Hyun Woojin. I want to undress him too.”

"Then say it clearly. Only in front of me?"
“I want to. In front of Hyun Woojin… and no one else.”
Woojin furrowed his brow ever so slightly. His hand trailed down from Haewon’s cheek to his nape. He swept down Haewon’s shivering back. Each time he touched him, Haewon flinched.

Woojin had only meant to correct Haewon’s spoiled habit of acting however he pleased. That was it. He had no idea why Haewon was reacting this strongly. Haewon was trembling in a place Woojin couldn’t reach—where his logic and calculations meant nothing.
He didn’t know what to do. This was emotional terrain he couldn’t predict or control. Woojin was internally thrown off by the sudden swell of foreign feelings.
He pulled Haewon’s trembling body into his arms, wrapping himself around him. Haewon only stiffened more.

“You’re not ‘nothing.’”
His voice was soft and low, like a Guarneri violin’s dusky tone, spilling from his lips into Haewon’s ear.
“I lied. Just because I wanted to get my way.”

“…”
Woojin didn’t really understand what it meant to feel sorry. He was flustered. Turns out there were still things in this world he was experiencing for the first time.
“I thought if I said that, you’d give in. Do what I asked. What I wanted.”

“…”
“I said it to provoke you. You’re not ‘nothing.’ To be honest, when I’m with you, it’s hard to control my desire.”
“…”

“I’m constantly on edge. It’s not that you don’t turn me on. I’m holding myself back because I know if I don’t, you’ll hate it.”
Being this honest was deeply unfamiliar to him. Woojin spoke without any structure, just letting his thoughts fall out. He had always been calculated, strategic—saying what others wanted to hear. But now, he couldn’t calculate.
“When you cry like that, I don’t like it. It upsets me.”

“…”
“So don’t cry.”
“…”

“Don’t cry.”
His chest tightened. A dull ache bloomed inside. Woojin pressed his palm to the center of his chest and rubbed slowly. That unfamiliar emotion was making him uncomfortable.
He wanted to hold Haewon and gently soothe his back, but Haewon pulled out of his arms.

With vacant eyes, Haewon muttered.
“…I want to shower.”
“Okay. Go shower. We need to talk when you’re done.”

“…”
Haewon, face pale, got off the bed and entered the bathroom. The door clicked shut. He slowly undressed and stepped into the shower stall. He turned the knob. Hot water poured down from above.
Haewon hadn’t really listened to Taeshin’s call that day.

He didn’t remember much of what they talked about. It was background noise, like a late-night TV left on low volume.
But that day had been different.
Taeshin had said he’d finally spent the night with the man he’d loved for so long—Haewon had no choice but to listen carefully.

“…”
His heart started racing.
Like someone had shoved him off a cliff, his chest pounded so loudly it was almost audible.

Haewon wrapped his arms around himself under the falling stream of water, unmoving. A cold shiver crawled up his spine again and again.
He had said the same thing to Taeshin.
That he should only speak when he was sure. When he could say he wanted to undress only in front of Woojin.

Standing there like an idiot, getting drenched in the shower, he suddenly heard a knock. Haewon startled and turned his head. Woojin opened the bathroom door and peeked in.
“What’s taking so long?”
“I—I’m coming out now.”

Brushing back his wet hair as if he’d finished, Haewon replied. The door closed.
He hurriedly dried off with a towel and slipped into a bathrobe.
He walked into the living room. Woojin, who had been pacing by the window, came over as soon as he saw him.

“Feeling better now?”
“…”
He asked. Haewon nodded faintly. Woojin grabbed his wrist and pulled him close. He sat down on the sofa and pulled Haewon onto his lap. Haewon hesitated, then sat on Woojin’s thigh, facing him.

“Why were you crying like that over something so small?”
“…Sorry.”
“It was my fault. I lied and made you cry.”

Just like he once claimed—no one could be kinder than him—Woojin was now touching Haewon with the most impossibly tender eyes and gestures. If anything had frozen over, his warmth would have melted it without a trace.
Haewon stared at him blankly.
He had said the same thing.

To him. And to Taeshin.
Haewon couldn’t tell anymore where the truth ended and the lies began.
But he knew that look.

That voice and gaze you couldn’t refuse or deny—the kind only those in love would understand. Woojin was definitely in love with him.
Which made it even harder to understand.
Woojin’s hand stroked his cheek, his nape, and his shoulder. He pulled the bathrobe down from Haewon’s shoulder, meeting his eyes. The heat in Woojin’s gaze seared across Haewon’s bare chest like fire through a lens.

Haewon’s tense back flinched. Woojin’s hands slid down from his waist, back up to circle his nipples with his thumbs. As that deep touch rolled over him, Haewon instinctively grabbed his wrists to stop him. But Woojin pressed his thumbs firmly against the hardened buds.
“I’m so worked up I can’t even think straight. All I want is to keep you in my lap and lick and suck every inch of you.”
“…”

Why did you do it? Why did you say the same things?
Why?
Why…?

Haewon trembled, thighs clenching. The way Woojin touched him—his desire was undeniable.
“Move in with me.”
“…What?”

“You heard me. I want to live with you.”
Woojin pressed his lips to Haewon’s chest. His wet, hot mouth clamped over a nipple and sucked deeply. Every time his throat pulled with suction, Haewon’s lower body jolted upward, twitching.
Haewon grabbed Woojin’s shoulders and moaned.

His crown, his nose, the mouth sucking his chest, the cheeks hollowing from the suction, the slippery red tongue—everything about Woojin was slowly devouring Haewon.
Cradled in his arms, Haewon’s head fell back, trembling uncontrollably.