Into The Thrill

“I’ll take it, so don’t contact them.”

“Is there something problematic if I contact them?”
“It’s not a problem, it’s just bothersome.”
“Why do so many people stick to you like this, Moon Haewon? Your surroundings are very messy.”

I almost said that he was one of them, but stopped myself. It seemed like it would make the car never move.
“You need to clean up.”
He said meaningfully.

“Let’s go now.”
After stalling, Hyeon Woojin finally started the car. The winter forest, which I never wanted to enter again, grew distant behind me.
We drove for a long time in silence, arriving in front of the officetel.

“Stop here.”
Ignoring my attempt to get out, Hyeon Woojin drove the car into the officetel parking lot. There were no empty spaces, so the car circled around, descending all the way to the fourth underground floor. The parking lot on the dark fourth floor had cars scattered sparsely.
He parked in a corner and turned off the engine. The car immediately became quiet.

I twisted my body to grab my violin from the back seat. Hyeon Woojin slowly reached out and blocked the space between the seats with his arm. I looked up at him.
“Did I say before that I wasn’t serious?”
“…”

“I’ve decided I want to get serious with you, Moon Haewon.”
“I’m not interested.”
“Are you seeing someone else?”

“No.”
“Then it’s settled. I don’t need to clean things up for you.”
“What do you mean by clean things up?”
“I told you earlier. Your surroundings are so messy, I need to clean them up.”

“It has nothing to do with you.”
“It does now. If you want to understand what I mean by getting serious, you can meet anyone you want.”
“I told you I’m not getting serious.”

“Do you know what the term ‘ruin and despair’ means?”
“…”
“We say that among ourselves. To destroy one’s family.”

“…”
“Oh, of course, only those who have sinned.”
He lightly tapped Haewon’s cheek. The worst thing about Hyeon Woojin was that his hand was warm. He casually spoke words that sounded like he was planning something. Haewon glared at him with disgust. The hand that had tapped his cheek now wrapped around Haewon’s cheek and ear, covering them completely.

He tilted his head slightly and leaned in toward Haewon. Haewon, blinking slowly, neither looking at him nor avoiding his gaze, spoke.
“Don’t.”
“If you didn’t want this, you shouldn’t have played earlier.”

“Don’t.”
“You’re not doing this because you got excited by the performance, are you?”
He spoke soothingly, as if comforting a child.

“Did you say the same thing to Taeshin? That you wanted to get serious?”
“…”
The hand that had wrapped around Haewon’s neck loosened. Hyeon Woojin, seemingly fed up with hearing Taeshin’s name in this context, took a deep breath. Watching his chest swell and deflate in real-time was as effective as his sarcastic laugh.

Haewon, tense, stared at him.
“You don’t listen to people, do you?”
“Do you think I’ll listen to you?”

“Well, I’ll make you listen.”
“…”
“You’ll crawl toward me on all fours, Moon Haewon.”

He unlocked the car door as if to tell Haewon to leave. Haewon quickly grabbed his violin and, almost as if fleeing, got out of the car. The door slammed shut with a loud bang, echoing harshly in the underground parking lot. Soon, an eerie and oppressive silence filled the space.
Hyeon Woojin’s car sped out of the parking lot, and the sound of tires scraping against the rough floor echoed sharply behind Haewon.
∞ ∞ ∞

For several days, Haewon didn’t leave the officetel. His fingers, now calloused and no longer sore, were still swollen, red at the tips, as he kept playing his violin. After finishing a piece and catching his breath, he heard Hyeon Woojin whispering.
“He’s dead.”
Haewon played another piece in an attempt to escape, and when his arms grew tired and he put down the bow, he heard Hyeon Woojin whisper again, this time close enough for it to feel like it was in his ear.

“He’s dead.”
Haewon wasn’t drawn to him. He didn’t like him. From head to toe, Hyeon Woojin repulsed him. His way of speaking was unbearable. His hand strength was unreasonably strong, which he disliked. The fact that his hair was as black as the winter forest didn’t appeal to Haewon either. He didn’t like how his eyes and hair were the same color. And he couldn’t stand the way Hyeon Woojin looked at him, as if digging into his soul.
Above all, the thing Haewon hated the most was his warm hands. His long fingers. Even while doing this, Haewon recalled being a violinist and loosened the grip on his own fingers, feeling an awkward gentleness as if reaching into a rat hole.

He hadn’t eaten for an entire day.
Haewon clutched his growling stomach and rummaged through the fridge. There were bottles of water and beer, a withered carrot, and a loaf of bread with mold on it, its yellowish light casting an eerie glow.
Haewon turned on his phone. There were missed calls from several people. Hyeon Woojin’s name wasn’t among them. He had said he would make Haewon crawl toward him like a dog, so it was obvious he wouldn’t have called first. Senior Choi had also left several missed calls. Haewon dialed Senior Choi’s number.

―Haewon.
He answered with a surprised voice before the phone even rang a few times.
“I’m hungry.”

―Huh? What?
“I’m hungry.”
―Where are you?

“I’m at home.”
Haewon, clutching his stomach, slumped against the fridge. It was only when he crouched down that he realized it hadn’t been just one day without food, but three. His fingertips, swollen and sore from playing for three days, ached even with the slightest movement.
―Should I come over?

“Bring food.”
―What do you want to eat?
“Anything.”

―Is it the officetel next to Donghwa Building?
“Yeah.”
He hung up. Haewon slumped back, sitting on the floor. He buried his face in his knees and stared blankly. Dust had accumulated under the sink. It was as though no one had been here for months.

He didn’t want to do such things. The man who had liked his dead friend. It was worse than an affair or betrayal. It was worse than any crime. It would have been easier to have an affair. Any betrayal would have been less shameful than being attracted to the man his dead friend had liked.
If Taeshin hadn’t died, it might not have mattered. He had no part in Taeshin’s death.
Hyeon Woojin had said he didn’t know why Taeshin had made such an extreme decision. Taeshin had never told Haewon he wanted to die or stop living. He had mostly harbored unrequited love but wasn’t the type to pity himself. He didn’t see himself as the tragic protagonist. When he liked someone, he got drunk on his own feelings. If they didn’t like him, there was nothing he could do, but if they did, he would still enjoy it, even while being used. Taeshin’s one-sided love wasn’t extreme or tragic.

But he must have liked him a lot. Looking back, it seemed like he liked him more than anyone else. But Taeshin wasn’t the type of person to take his own life over a man.
Hyeon Woojin had said that Taeshin’s object might have been used for money laundering. He might have chosen death because he feared being dragged into something he couldn’t control. He had /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ said that Taeshin had a diary. If Haewon read it, he would understand why he died. But Haewon had thrown it away without looking at it. He hadn’t mourned, hadn’t remembered, and hadn’t cherished it.
No, it wasn’t true. Did you not like this person…?

You didn’t like him enough to want to die, right?
Haewon asked Taeshin’s ghost, though he wouldn’t have cared what Taeshin said if he were alive. After Taeshin died, he exerted an influence over Haewon.
The doorbell rang. It seemed Senior Choi had already arrived. When Haewon opened the door, Senior Choi, panting as if he had rushed over, stood in front of him. He was holding a bag from a nearby bakery. Haewon took the bag from his hand. As he was about to close the door, Senior Choi hurriedly grabbed it.

“Haewon?”
“Yes?”
“Shouldn’t I come in?”

“If you want to come in, come in.”
As the door was pushed open, Senior Choi entered. Haewon opened the envelope and devoured some bread, barely tasting it.
He continued with meaningless chatter about how spacious and sparsely furnished his house was.

Sitting on the sofa, Senior Choi handed over a carton of milk to Haewon, who was devouring the bread.
“You’ll get indigestion. Have you been starving?”
“I didn’t notice while practicing.”

“That’s some focus.”
Haewon rapidly ate three pieces of bread and drank all the milk, finally satisfying his hunger. Senior Choi, watching him eat like a man possessed, reached over and brushed some crumbs from Haewon’s lips.
“You’ve got the wrong idea.”

“About what?”
“You think I’ve been using you to make money on the side?”
Indeed, Haewon had told him never to contact him again. He had threatened to call his wife if he did. Now, Haewon remembered their argument and his warning.

“I told you not to call me. I said I’d call Juhui.”
He had left many missed calls. Haewon had completely forgotten about their issue, distracted by his dealings with Hyun Woojin.
“Didn’t you forgive me?”

It was Haewon himself who had called after seeing the numerous missed calls. Hungry, he had ordered Choi to bring anything to his apartment. From Choi's perspective, it might have seemed like forgiveness. Haewon couldn’t admit he had forgotten his own warning.
“I meant I never want to see you again. Forever.”
“I’m actually in the middle of an agreed divorce with Juhui.”

To Haewon, his allure was the ignobility of hovering around sin without crossing the line. As Haewon stared blankly, perhaps guessing he was curious, Choi added,
“It’s been a while actually. I was saving it to tell you in person, but then Kim Jeong-geun's sudden call came through.”
“……”

“Did I upset you a lot?”
“Did you get caught?”
“What? No, not that. Juhui had an affair. Seems she had a man even before we married.”

“……”
“It’s funny, isn’t it?”
It wasn’t funny at all. Before their marriage, both he and his wife had lovers. A man and a woman, each with their own lovers, got married and then divorced. Their marriage seemed fair, and, as Choi said, it was ludicrous. There was no separate comedy.

“We’ve settled it, our divorce.”
Rather than being sad about the divorce, he looked relieved, as if he had freed himself from some shackles.
Both he and Haewon had been idle. Haewon enjoyed watching him squirm with guilt and desire, finding his agonized submission to his urges refreshing.

Haewon was just like Hyun Woojin. He had never truly liked anyone, nor had he ever wanted anyone. To Haewon, emotions were like the black forest he had once passed with Hyun Woojin: a desolate winter forest where no season touched, silent and empty. Yet now, emotions were budding within him, even for the man whom his deceased friend had loved.
“So?”
“……Aren't you happy?”

“Happy? Me?”
Haewon challenged him, asking why he should be.
“You wanted me to divorce, right? You told me to tell Juhui.”

“I thought you wouldn’t actually say it. I just blurted out anything so you wouldn’t call again.”
“What?”
Choi paused for a moment, remembering that time. A chilly silence followed. He spoke in a quiet tone that belied his age, his voice as calm as his expression.

“I didn’t want to waste your performance. I wanted to show it to people who could give you opportunities, especially since you needed money. I was trying to help connect you, and it went a bit like this. And that's also because…”
“……”
“…it was a way to keep in touch with you.”

“……”
“What other excuse do I have to contact you?”
His acknowledgment of his own ignobility made it look less base. His cowardice had a human scent.

“I thought you'd be happy.”
“With what?”
“I thought you'd be happy to hear I got divorced.”

He spoke dejectedly, brushing his flushed face repeatedly. His skin shifted under his hand.
“I'm not that expensive.”
“Huh?”

Lowering his hand from his face, Senior Choi turned to look at Haewon. In his eyes, self-contempt was visible.
Hyun Woojin had said he wouldn’t let anyone alone. Hyun Woojin needed to know. Haewon was accessible to anyone. But not the man whom the deceased Taeshin had loved.
Haewon reached out and grabbed the hem of his coat. He pulled it off over Choi's shoulders. Choi, rigid, didn't move. When Haewon tugged at a sleeve that wouldn't come off, Choi finally raised his arm.

After removing his coat and unbuttoning his shirt, the standard-bearer of neatness faced him. Haewon also removed his shirt. Exposed to the cold, goosebumps formed on his arms. With his bare torso exposed, he opened his mouth in confusion.
“……I'm not very good at this.”
“……”

“Sorry. Apart from you, I haven't really… I’ve never done this before.”
He meant it was his first time. Haewon grasped the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. Their eyes met. He shifted his body awkwardly on the sofa, pulling Choi by the arm. Like a man bewitched, Choi smoothly got up. Haewon lay down on the sofa, looking up at him as he came to cover him.
Choi unbuckled his belt. Undoing the zipper, he slid his hand inside the warm undergarment, feeling the closely grown pubic hair. As he moved further down, Choi clenched his jaw. Haewon slowly stroked the semi-erect penis, which swelled alarmingly with the unexpected stimulation. A cough-like gasp escaped Choi.

“Huh…!”
“Should I put it in?”
When Haewon asked, having heard Choi’s claim of inexperience, his face turned beet-red. He whispered, fondling the man’s lower part, who responded earnestly and healthily.

“I get wetter being penetrated… I like being pounded. Roughly like this.”
He pulled Choi’s hand to touch him. Sliding his hand into the loose training pants, he let him probe deeper. His legs spread apart. True to Hyun Woojin's words, he did enjoy spreading his legs for men.
Choi hurriedly stripped off his pants and underwear. His erect penis throbbed as if about to burst

. He swiftly removed Haewon’s lower garments. Their pants mingled and fell to the floor. Their bare legs entwined.
Haewon wrapped his arms around his back. Kissing him, he sucked on the man’s tongue. Closing his eyes, he saw Hyun Woojin there. Startled, he opened his eyes. His gaze met the distraught face of Choi.
“Haewon. Ah, Haewon…”

Haewon couldn’t admit it. He had never truly liked anyone, nor had he wanted anyone. He hadn’t known before that being attracted to someone could feel so vile and disgusting.
Choi roughly explored Haewon's lower body. Hurried, he spat to moisten below and clutched his penis, hastily rubbing its tip against the orifice. The sensation of rubbing against a sensitive spot made his mind go blank.
“Ha, ah…, Senior. Uh…, Senior.”

“Huh, Haewon. What should I do? I can’t hold it.”
What he couldn’t hold back was unclear, but his voice was rough. He thrust himself inside Haewon. A large object pushed in, compressing his internal organs.
Haewon grabbed his shoulders and heaved his chest. Choi, like a man out of his mind, kissed anywhere on Haewon’s bare body. The man, a paragon of neatness and gentlemanliness, licked and sucked on the flesh greedily.

Desire was like that. Ugly, dirty, and ravenous. You cannot wear a mask. Nothing can be hidden.
Haewon had wanted this from Hyun Woojin. From the man his deceased friend had been infatuated with.
Choi eagerly sucked on Haewon’s chest and pounded below rhythmlessly. Haewon embraced his neck. Perhaps the stimulation was too intense, for he climaxed prematurely. As he ejaculated, his face twisted pitifully. He resented his penis for climaxing too soon, unwilling to pull out.

He continued until his erection lasted. They went on so long that eventually, the semen thinned visibly.
Haewon lay on the sofa, caressing the back of Choi’s head, which was sucking his chest, and stared blankly at the ceiling.