Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1068783.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      EXO_(Band)
  Relationship:
      Kim_Jongin_|_Kai/Lu_Han
  Character:
      Lu_Han, Kim_Jongin_|_Kai
  Additional Tags:
      Smut, Romance, Purple_Prose, Translation
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-12-03 Words: 15460
****** Poplar Tree Love Story ******
by Rei_Rei_(anti60ne)
Summary
     Two strangers, one bed.
Notes
     Author_permission to translate has been obtained.
      
     T/N: Italics at the beginning of each chapter are quotes from songs
     or books.
  This work was inspired by
      胡杨树爱人 by BG的世界没有爱on EXO王道吧
  
                                     One.
 
You are the expanse of ocean over which I fall as rain
 
 
The small town was packed with throngs of tourists because of the Poplar Forest
Festival. Accommodations were filled, and there were barely any empty seats at
eateries. At seven o’clock at night, Ejin Banner, a town sitting on the border
of Inner Mongolia, finally surrendered to the staggering service volume as the
power went out. The town sank into chaos as chilling raindrops began to fall.
 
On this rainy October night in the desert, Lu Han was stranded in the rain and
shivering from the cold. The only thought on his mind was to take a hot shower
somehow. Finally, he found a small hotel. But there was a problem – only one
available room remained, and there were two guests. The other matron, Kim
Jongin, looked relatively at ease. He was already used to the drastic
temperature difference in the desert, but he didn’t want to continue the search
for accommodations, as it was getting late.
 
The front desk was manned by a young girl, who was dozing off and having
trouble keeping her eyes open.
 
“How about you room together? You’re both guys, anyway.”
 
While mulling over the suggestion, Kim Jongin noticed Lu Han turn to him, lips
slightly parting as if to pitch a solution. He glanced over at him, and saw a
small smile forced onto Lu Han’s lips. It stood out like a wound on his tired
and forlorn face. Kim Jongin didn’t speak, but looked at Lu Han with meaning.
 
“Sure.”
 
Not “Alright” but “Sure”. Lu Han didn’t notice the difference.
 
They trudged up the stairs one after another, Kim Jongin behind Lu Han. He
studied Lu Han’s pale fingers that were gripping the straps of his backpack. He
must be quite proper, he thought.
 
They opened the door to the designated room and found a twin-sized bed that
wasn’t spacious enough for two.
 
Lu Han took off his backpack and leaned against the dresser beside the
television, assessing the room. Kim Jongin was quiet. He lit up a cigarette and
took a long drag, then squinted his eyes as he assessed Lu Han through the
rising fumes. The light hung off of the dresser mirror cast on Lu Han’s hair,
the damp locks draping over one eye. Lu Han met Kim Jongin’s gaze.
 
“Hey, let me bum a cigarette.” Lu Han scooped out the drenched pack from his
pocket, wagging it to show that the enclosed white sticks were ruined.
 
“Why don’t you take a shower first.” Kim Jongin snuffed out his cigarette in a
pinch as he watched drops of water rolled down from Lu Han’s hair along his
jaw. “You’re soaked.”
 
This was the night they first met. They both knew that something was off.
 
Like something was bound to happen.
 
Lu Han was too exhausted to protest otherwise, so he went ahead to take a
shower, oblivious to the insinuations in the other man’s words. The bathroom
was separated from the bedroom by a mere matte window. Lu Han did not pull the
shower curtains closed. Kim Jongin sat on the bed, and when he saw the outline
of the form inside the shower, he didn’t tear his eyes away. Lu Han came out in
his briefs, a towel thrown over his head and covering his eyes. He tossed
himself into the bed.
 
Then Kim Jongin went to take his shower. Lying in bed, Lu Han was exhausted,
but unease kept him up. They didn’t even exchange their names, and here they
were, about to squeeze into one bed, sharing a blanket.
 
Lu Han hadn’t been able to get a good night’s sleep in a while. He came all the
way here from Beijing not to sightsee, but to fulfill a wish of the deceased.
She had been pestering him about going to see the poplar forest that painted
hues of gold in the desert, hoping in her naivety that their love would endure
as long as those trees. Living for a thousand years before dying, dead for a
thousand years before falling, and fallen for a thousand years before decaying,
upon the remnants of which a forest was built. Lu Han was always busy with the
mundane and never had time to sit with her as she composed poems. Time after
time, he stalled her wheedling with well-intended coaxing, but he never thought
he would fail to fulfill such a simple wish for her. She died in an accident.
Lu Han drowned in self-blame for a long time.
 
He happened to arrive in Ejin Banner just in time for the Poplar Forest
Festival and squeezed right into the influx of travelers. During the arduous
journey, he watched plains morph into spans of a desert, sand masking the sky
by a small tug of the wind. Grass was scarce, strewn across the Gobi like
gashes. Lu Han found this dismal sight disheartening, unable to find any
enjoyment in the trip, which began to weigh down on him like an ailment that
refused to subside. When he finally arrived, first the power went out, then it
started to rain. And now he had to carve up sleep with a stranger when it was
barely enough for himself. Lu Han sighed, exhaling the misery inside his chest.
 
Kim Jongin came out of the bathroom and lied down next to Lu Han with a gentle
dip in the bed. A whiff of Head and Shoulders in Lu Han’s hair drifted into his
nose as he stretched flat, and Kim Jongin, for the first time, thought the
scent was insanely sexy. He remembered when he first saw Lu Han downstairs in
the lobby. He looked like a boy drowning and needed to be saved. His eyes were
beautiful but lifeless, as if he'd been plagued by nightmares. Kim Jongin mused
that perhaps that look in his eyes and that rueful smile on his face were not a
call for help, but he wanted to save him anyway, jumping in out of instinct to
haul him out of the water.
 
Lu Han sensed him getting into bed and shifted to make space while trying to
conceal his discomfort. Traveling sometimes required making compromises and
beggars couldn’t be choosers, and there was a reason one would meet certain
people on a journey, a reason that should encourage friendships. This bed was
too small, too confined for two grown men to lie side by side. Lu Han’s right
shoulder nudged into Kim Jongin’s left, but he didn’t shift away. Kim Jongin’s
forearm rested on Lu Han’s wrist, but he stayed still. Kim Jongin caught a
glimpse of the condoms on the bedside table, courtesy of the hotel. He
stretched out a hand and switched off the lamp.
 
“Did I wake you?” Kim Jongin felt Lu Han stiffen.
 
“I didn’t sleep yet.” Lu Han stirred.
 
They fell into silence. Their heartbeats travelled into their own ears, two
sets of rhythm merged into one. Just like two streams of river that met in the
flatland before flowing out into the ocean, quiet but powerful.
 
In their stillness, the scent that emitted from their bodies enticed each
other’s soul and grew stronger as the night dragged, enveloping and trapping
them. Kim Jongin felt want surge in his belly, telling him to get closer to Lu
Han, telling them to get closer to each other. If lust could be detected by the
sense of smell, it would be the most aromatic scent, like delicacies that were
impossible to resist.
 
They both felt a slight craving. They weren’t fighting it – they just wanted an
outlet, and they both knew that that outlet could be found in the man lying
beside them. How did they know for sure that the other person, having the same
form, could help them escape from the present? How did they know, when their
desire took on the same shape?
 
Lu Han kept his eyes open. Kim Jongin held his breath.
 
They reached a mutual understanding in silence, becoming equal in the magnitude
of the things they felt.
 
 
                                     Two.
                                        
So let me peel you layer by layer
Let me probe the secret in the deepest part of you
 
 
Kim Jongin became hard – he couldn’t help it. He wanted to touch Lu Han so
badly, driven by a tantalizing urge.
 
He turned to look at Lu Han, who also tilted his head as he sensed Kim Jongin’s
eyes on him. They looked at each other in silence. Lu Han’s eyes shone in the
dark, as if twinkling with tears, returning the other man’s gaze boldly. Kim
Jongin’s eyes were so, so deep, like a bottomless quicksand, as deep as the
darkness encompassing them. In Kim Jongin’s bright, liquid eyes, Lu Han saw a
darker version of himself. He was mesmerized.
 
Lu Han drew a deep breath and smiled.
 
“Shall we?”
 
It was an obvious invitation. Kim Jongin quirked his lips and nodded
courteously. Then he rolled over and climbed on top of Lu Han.
 
The night was trembling.
 
He leaned in to kiss Lu Han, but was pushed away. Lu Han drew away the blanket
and untied the towel hooked around Kim Jongin’s waist, revealing a tanned,
muscular body hinting of frequent outdoor activities. Lu Han narrowed his eyes,
appraising the delicacy before him – firm shoulders, a wide and toned chest,
defined abs, and a gorgeous V-cut. Lu Han touched his body gently and tried to
bury himself in it, his heart drumming lightly but distinctly.
 
It was the first time with a man for both of them, but it was as if they had
been waiting for this moment.
 
Kim Jongin kissed Lu Han’s clavicles, dragging his tongue over them tenderly.
He had imagined them to contain bittersweet wine, but the taste was slightly
salty. Lu Han’s skin was fair, but not shallow or flimsy like a woman’s. His
paleness shone with a light heavy as lead, brightening Kim Jongin’s eyes. He
dragged his hands down Lu Han’s body, shedding his briefs and palmed his cock.
Lu Han’s body was pliant but strong, like an exquisite artwork of utmost
quality. Kim Jongin was enthralled. His lips and teeth roamed all over Lu Han,
nibbling and leaving marks everywhere.
 
Kim Jongin treated Lu Han like treasure.
 
Lu Han’s breaths quickened as Kim Jongin’s hands travelled over him. He
couldn’t help but keen into the touch, moans occasionally escaping as his skin
flushed in growing want. Kim Jongin caressed Lu Han’s hip bones as if teasing.
Lu Han wrapped his arms around Kim Jongin and ground his erection against the
other man’s hardened cock impatiently. Kim Jongin was not in a hurry. He curled
his fingers around Lu Han’s cock and pecked it on the tip. Lu Han was
embarrassed by the gesture and threw his arm over his eyes. Kim Jongin pulled
his arm away.
 
“Let me see your face.”
 
Lu Han blushed. The sweat beading on his forehead became drinks to Kim Jongin’s
lips.
 
Kim Jongin continued to stroke Lu Han, finger grazing the slit where precum was
beginning to drip. He began to pick up the speed, applying more pressure
through his palm. Lu Han’s panting grew heavier and he put his hand over Kim
Jongin’s fist. His entire body tensed as he came, then he felt so drained as if
all strength had been sucked out of him. He had rarely  taken care of such
needs ever since his girlfriend passed away. Kim Jongin helped him release
everything that had built up over the past six months. He had never felt so
liberated – it was a pleasure unattainable from a woman’s body.
 
Kim Jongin’s body was strong and firm, one that Lu Han could hold tightly with
no reservations, as if he could embed himself into it. He had longed for an
amplitude of hugs, none of which he could find in the curves of a woman.  Lu
Han even thought that Kim Jongin’s body made him feel fully satisfied as a man.
He reached down and touched Kim Jongin’s cock, smearing his own cum over the
length. Kim Jongin’s erection grew and he leaned in, kissing Lu Han’s nipples,
sucking and nibbling on them. He slid one hand down Lu Han’s back, tracing
along his spine to the very bottom. His hand paused around the rims before
slipping one finger in.
 
Lu Han felt embarrassed, but he didn’t tell Kim Jongin to stop because he was
too far gone. The discomfort drove him to shift away, but Kim Jongin held him
in place. He kissed and licked Lu Han’s earlobes while kneading his chest as he
slid in another finger, then a third. When pleasure overtook pain and Lu Han
stopped resisting, Kim Jongin pulled his legs apart. He smeared the entrance
with Lu Han’s cum and pushed in slowly.
 
Lu Han hissed from the pain as Kim Jongin entered, but the pain distracted him
from all thoughts, and that was perfect. Lu Han gripped the other man’s arms.
Kim Jongin paused out of concern as he sensed that Lu Han was in pain.
 
“Hurry up… Put it in,” urged Lu Han. Only then did Kim Jongin begin to move. It
was taxing for both of them, given that it was their first time. Lu Han was
sweating profusely, quivering from the pain. It was an uncharted territory that
Kim Jongin was entering, and enjoyment eluded Lu Han. His body was awfully
tight, so Kim Jongin was suffering as much as Lu Han was.
 
“More…”
 
Lu Han tried to engulf Kim Jongin’s heat as he began moving down the shaft
himself, the pain pushing in deeper. Yes, it hurt, but this was the pain he
wanted. Kim Jongin hiked Lu Han’s legs up around his waist  and grabbed his
thighs, then he began thrusting.
 
Lu Han raised a hand and snaked his fingers through Kim Jongin’s hair. He
bucked up close to Kim Jongin and murmured.
 
“Faster…”
 
Kim Jongin pushed in, all the way up the hilt. When he hit a certain spot, he
felt Lu Han tremble. Kim Jongin held Lu Han tight and focused on hitting that
spot, alternating deep and shallow thrusts. Lu Han finally felt an inkling of
pleasure in the midst of pain and he grabbed onto Kim Jongin, picking up his
rhythm.
 
Two bodies in perfect union, with no space in between.
 
They disregarded the rest of the world as their sweat took on the same scent,
their body moved at the same pace, even their lungs pulsed to the same beat. As
if they were the only ones in this world.
 
Kim Jongin reached the deepest end of Lu Han. Lu Han’s slender legs were coiled
tightly around Kim Jongin as he asked for more in ragged breaths. Kim Jongin
changed positions, gripping Lu Han’s waist and thrust as far as he could as if
he was probing Lu Han’s deepest secret. Lu Han was filled entirely and gasped
as he bared his neck. His unreserved panting spurred Kim Jongin to drive
deeper. Then all of a sudden, Lu Han clenched, and Kim Jongin reached a state
of ecstasy he had never been before. He shot a stream of warmth into Lu Han,
and together they entered an uninhabited world save for the two of them.
 
Lu Han felt like there was a light shining into his darkness, driving away all
of his misery, the sorrows of losing a loved one, the self-blame, and his
journey of solitude, burning everything into indiscernible ashes. His memory
was erased, including his own name. The only thing he was aware of right now
was this very moment.
 
He curcled his arms around Kim Jongin’s neck and held him close, clutching him
like a branch extended to save him from drowning. In Kim Jongin’s labored
breaths, Lu Han was able to cry.
 
He was able to finally cry after six months of wretchedness, all because of a
stranger that he would never see again, all because of an unexpected one-night
stand.
 
 
                                    Three.
                                        
I’m not supposed to ask for more but I’m greedy like that
The more I shouldn’t the more I keep going back
 
 
“Again,” Lu Han croaked into Kim Jongin’s ear, throat raw from crying.
 
“Again?” Kim Jongin held him close, stroking his back.
 
They didn’t sleep the whole night. Lu Han found release in Kim Jongin and he
demanded more with urgent desperation, as if his first time with Kim Jongin
marked a new beginning and none of the times he had sex before counted. From
this moment on, his desire was freed, a rift forming between love and sex. Kim
Jongin gave his all to Lu Han, spoiling a man that he would part with when
morning came. They didn’t ask for names or anything tagged with certainty, but
followed the decision made by their primal instincts. Lu Han didn’t bother to
wonder why it had to be this man, and it didn’t cross Kim Jongin’s mind why Lu
Han didn’t refuse. Neither of them tried to figure out what made them act the
way they did. Instead, they believed they were in the right, defiant to the
world.
 
They were the same in that it was easier for their true self to show in one
night than a lifetime of getting to know them.
 
When Lu Han woke the next morning, Kim Jongin wasn’t next to him. He heard
water running in the bathroom and lifted his head, eyes catching a blurred
image of Kim Jongin through the matte window. So he didn’t leave yet. Lu Han
tried to sit up but couldn’t move, still enervated from the night before. He
lied back down and curled up, drifting back to sleep. When he woke again, Kim
Jongin was smoking, seated at the edge of the bed.
 
“You’re awake.” Kim Jongin saw half-mast eyes and a small fluff of hair peeking
out under the blanket.
 
“Yeah.” Lu Han kept his head covered up, muffling his voice, but stretched out
two fingers. “Give me one.” Lu Han remembered that he never got to bum a
cigarette from Kim Jongin last night.
 
“Smoking causes impotence.”
 
“Then why are you smoking?” Lu Han raised his eyes and looked at Kim Jongin.
 
“I don’t have a problem in that department,” said Kim Jongin with a straight
face. Lu Han had nothing to say; he could attest to that.
 
“You should get up,” said Kim Jongin. “You need to wash up.”
 
The blanket slipped off his shoulders as Lu Han sat up. Kim Jongin saw the
marks on Lu Han’s body, eyes travelling downward along the spine. He saw maroon
spots on the sheets.
 
“Wait.” He walked around the bed and held Lu Han in place, tucking the
cigarette between his lips. “Lie back down.”
 
“Why?”
 
“It looks like you’re hurt in the back.” Kim Jongin frowned. “Go back to sleep,
I’ll go get some medicine.”
 
“It’s fine.” Lu Han pulled Kim Jongin back futilely. “I’m not a woman, it’s no
big deal.” Lu Han was aware what he did last night. He remembered it clearly,
as if the feeling of ecstasy had been branded on his body.
 
“Just wait here.” Kim Jongin didn’t let him finish. He pressed Lu Han back on
the bed and pulled the blanket over him, then left. Lying in bed, Lu Han looked
out the window at the sun hung high up in the sky. He really wanted a smoke.
 
Kim Jongin came back with a heap of medicine, breeze following suit.
 
“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Kim Jongin took Lu Han into the bathroom, a hand on
his arm, and ran hot water in the bath. Lu Han didn’t push him away, even
though he was well aware that he wasn’t a woman. Because he wasn’t a woman,
there was no need to act awkward or be responsible. But also because he wasn’t
a woman, he went with the flow unreservedly.
 
Lu Han had his back to Kim Jongin, who saw a sea of maroon in his behind. There
was blood mixed with his cum. Even though he ached a little at the unsightly
scene, Kim Jongin was somehow turned on by it. He remembered Lu Han crying on
his shoulders the night before. Lu Han shed only a few tears, but it hurt him
when the tears fell, like they were scalding his skin.
 
Kim Jongin took off his shirt. Lu Han kept his back straight, afraid to look.
He thought that the person with his name last night was a wide open version of
himself. He rarely opened himself up. It was just that he needed an outlet
after trekking that lonely road before he could get back on his feet and
continue on. If not Kim Jongin, someone else would have the key to the lock in
him. If not sex, it would have been something else. Lu Han didn’t know how to
put it, to express that he didn’t want to have anything more to do with this
man.
 
He thought that after last night, everything would go back to normal. He was
the Lu Han that lost someone he loved six months ago. He didn’t care who Kim
Jongin was. But instead of leaving, Kim Jongin had stayed, even stripping naked
before him once again. Lu Han was scared to look. How could he when that body
was marked with traces of himself? Just like he couldn’t look down at himself,
each speck and each streak was evidence to a night of passion. Their body
served witness to each other’s want, and now they were standing beside each
other, naked, like lovers preserving their desire.
 
But no. They weren’t lovers. They didn’t even know each other’s name.
 
“I’ll do it myself…” Lu Han tried to refuse again, after a moment of
hesitation. But Kim Jongin wouldn’t have it. He had hurt this person with a
part of his own body, of course he was responsible. He adjusted the water
temperature and yanked down the shower head, then began to spray the water over
Lu Han. His other hand always held onto Lu Han’s arm regardless of what he was
doing. Lu Han let him. He thought that Kim Jongin would be tender as a lover.
 
“Hold on.” Kim Jongin had Lu Han place one hand on the wall for support.
 
“Why?” Lu Han was confused.
 
“I’m gonna clean the stuff out…” his voice was soft, “from the inside.”
 
Lu Han lowered his head and said nothing. Kim Jongin dabbed his finger in the
water and reached in, stretching the entrance a bit. Lu Han felt slightly
uncomfortable.
 
“Are you done yet?”
 
“Be patient. You’ll feel sick in your stomach if it’s not all cleaned out.” Kim
Jongin cleaned him with seriousness, sliding in another finger in an attempt to
draw out the gunk inside. But Lu Han couldn’t stand it. He felt like Kim Jongin
seemed to drag his finger – maybe intentionally, maybe not – across a spot that
felt uncomfortable and pleasurable at the same time.
 
When Kim Jongin slid in his finger again, Lu Han could no longer hold it, a
moan escaping his lips.
 
“Another round?” Seeing Lu Han’s reaction, Kim Jongin’s lips curved into a
smirk.
 
“You’re doing this on purpose.” Lu Han tried to find balance on the wall.
 
Kim Jongin drew an arm around Lu Han from behind and wrapped the free hand
around Lu Han’s cock, finger grazing the slit. Lu Han shuddered. Kim Jongin
turned him around and hoisted his legs up. He propped Lu Han up with one hand
on his ass, murmuring into his ear “Hold on tight” as he squeezed a slop of
body wash over his fingers and then slid them into Lu Han. Then he gripped Lu
Han’s waist with the other hand and thrust in.
 
 
                                     Four.
                                        
The worst crime in this world is falling in love too easily
 
 
A week had passed since Kim Jongin and Lu Han stepped into this small hotel.
When Kim Jongin went down to the front desk to extend their stay, the
receptionist gave him a strange look. It didn’t matter. He didn’t care.
 
“Wanna go check out Strange Forest?” After breakfast, Lu Han brandished a tour
guide and flipped to a page, pointing to Kim Jongin. Kim Jongin glanced at the
tour guide and chuckled.
 
“Where did you get that?”
 
Lu Han ignored his question, continuing his train of thought out loud.
 
“I’ll drive?”
 
“Can you drive?” Kim Jongin cocked an eyebrow, smiling gleefully at Lu Han’s
frown. He smacked Lu Han lightly on the ass. “Does it still hurt?”
 
Lu Han jerked away from Kim Jongin’s hand. He leaned down and shoved in two
mouthfuls of porridge.
 
“Isn’t it too early to be horny.”
 
“I’m always horny,” Kim Jongin looked at him, “when I’m with you.”
 
Lu Han choked on the porridge and coughed.
 
“You’re driving. Let’s go.”
 
Lu Han dozed off quickly in the passenger’s seat, leaning his head back with
his whole body curled into the seat. Kim Jongin was content with everything in
this moment. He stayed quiet and drove more slowly, making sure that the car
moved at a steady speed.
 
The car braked all of a sudden, jolting Lu Han awake. He was still puzzled when
Kim Jongin steered his head toward himself, holding his eyes so that Lu Han
could look at only him. “Don’t look.”
 
“Why not?” Lu Han didn’t understand. He pushed away Kim Jongin’s hand and
looked out the window.
 
They were parked at an intersection, the road ahead blocked by a traffic
accident. It was gruesome. The woman in the passenger’s seat was stuck in
between gnarled metals of the crushed car, her top half hovering outward as she
struggled to disentangle herself. Blood spatters tarnished the asphalt. The
woman was wailing in agony, her life in danger. Vehicles in the passing traffic
stopped one after another, people rushing out of their cars to help. It was
chaos.
 
Lu Han’s pupils immediately dilated and dizziness hit him, his feet suddenly
feeling like ice. He began shaking all over, eyes growing red in the rims. He
couldn’t forget even if he wanted to – this was how his girlfriend left him.
 
Kim Jongin covered Lu Han’s ears. “It’s okay.” It didn’t matter if Lu Han
couldn’t hear him. He pulled Lu Han into his arms, enveloping him entirely, so
Lu Han could find something to grab onto in him. Lu Han kept trembling as he
hung onto Kim Jongin’s back lest he drowned again.
 
After a while, Lu Han felt somewhat relieved and pulled away.
 
“Let’s keep going.” He feigned composure, though his voice was no longer the
same.
 
Throughout the ride, Lu Han clutched Kim Jongin’s hand so tight that it hurt.
 
They still hadn’t exchanged names. Neither asked and neither supplied. Lu Han
was glad that Kim Jongin never asked questions. He thought that if too much was
revealed, they wouldn’t be able to continue this. What thiswas, Lu Han wasn’t
sure himself. He was like an ostrich burying its head into an ambiguous
relationship, only to seek the security within. During the day, they were two
strangers who walked side by side, rarely conversing as they observed sceneries
with something else on their mind. At night, they became attached at the hips,
kneading their bodies together with all they had, exhausting the last ounce of
passion as they tasted each other’s secrets.
 
Kim Jongin took Lu Han to see a lot of places. They went to see trees that grew
obstinately in the desert, foliages that were so yellow they shone like the
sun, and trees white with death but still standing. Lu Han had become used to
the wind and temperature difference in the desert, and also the man beside him.
The way they got along was simple – no questions asked, only listening. Silence
sat comfortably between them if neither spoke. Their chemistry was not only in
the way their bodies fit together perfectly, but also how at ease they were
with each other. Like how Lu Han called Kim Jongin “Hey” and Kim Jongin called
Lu Han “Uh”. It was fine that much remained unsaid.
 
But eventually, things were progressing in the direction opposite from what Lu
Han had expected. They were getting increasingly used to each other’s habits,
becoming more and more like lovers.
 
Like what happened today, how Kim Jongin became his support.
 
Lu Han was aware that his one-night stand with Kim Jongin had already turned
into many-night stand. He knew he should have walked away days ago, but he
couldn’t give up the warmth he found in Kim Jongin after dipping in his body
temperature. They never kissed when they had sex. Kim Jongin tried to, many
times, but Lu Han always pushed him away. He firmly believed that kissing made
the difference between sex and love. Only if these two weren’t synchronized
could he continue on afterward. He was scarred by how his love turned out in
the past, so now he was afraid to love again. He treated Kim Jongin as solace,
in denial of the changes that had taken place in his heart.
 
Lu Han remembered a saying that went, “The way to a woman’s heart is through
her vagina.” He had scoffed at it when he first heard it, but now he realized
that it was highly possible that sex led to love. Even though he wasn’t a
woman, the principle was the same – physical pleasure as a means to experience
love. Then maybe the way to a man’s heart involved sex, too. Sex was a
marvelous thing – what made it so marvelous was how physical dependence would
eventually seep into the soul. They started with a physical barter, and it
turned into a mutual need of the soul. They were both aware of this
transformation, it was just that one was hesitant, while the other was brave.
 
Kim Jongin was attracted to Lu Han. How? He fell for him at first sight. He
couldn’t go beyond saying hi with someone he didn’t like, let alone having sex
night after night. He knew that Lu Han was guarded toward him. He even tried to
cast a spell into Lu Han’s body, a spell for me to be the only person to enter
him, he thought. If such thing really existed, he would get his hands on it and
put it into Lu Han’s body, making him his.
 
They never went to Strange Forest. Kim Jongin didn’t want to have Lu Han see
stretches of withered trees and become distressed again. He drove to the Poplar
Forest scenic area instead.
 
Lu Han got out of the car and walked into the woods. These trees had taken root
deep in the desert, allowing them to survive on scant water and grow into
towering height. The leaves would turn golden in the autumn but cling to the
branches adamantly. Poplar trees asked for very little – they only needed a bit
of water to live brilliantly for years and years, leaving a lasting impression
for spectators. Studying the trees, Lu Han finally realized why his girl had
always wanted to visit here.
 
The thought prompted him to turn around, eyes searching for Kim Jongin. The man
was standing underneath a tree, smoking as warm-colored leaves crunched beneath
his shoes, the azure sky beaming down on him. He sensed Lu Han looking at him
and turned around, returning the gaze. Behind him the sun was setting,
shadowing him into a black silhouette in the backlight of the dusk.  For some
reason, Lu Han could tell that Kim Jongin was smiling, and that his smile was
radiantly beautiful.
 
Lu Han felt the smile stir something inside his chest. Something had changed.
 
Something must have changed.
 
                                     Five.
                                        
Please take a breath to prove that you’re happy
Please hold me tightly to prove that you want more
 
 
Lu Han was leaving. He decided to leave.
 
The weeklong National Day holidays had come to an end, and Lu Han was going to
go back to his old life. This decision did not make him feel relieved or glad
as he had expected, not because he was going back to face something he didn’t
want to. Ways of the world as he knew it and his own shackles were breached and
broken by Kim Jongin, one after another. The real reason why he was upset,
then, was Kim Jongin, a man who never asked for his name. Lu Han was mad for no
particular reason. He was leaving, yet Kim Jongin had said nothing.
 
The night before he was set to depart, Lu Han took a shower and then lied down
on top of Kim Jongin. Kim Jongin flipped him over and pushed him down, but Lu
Han got on top of him again.
 
“What do you want?” Kim Jongin asked resignedly, letting Lu Han sit on his lap.
Lifting his eyes to Lu Han while he lied flat, Kim Jongin thought he looked
lovely from this angle too.
 
“Top you,” Lu Han smiled at him, eyes sparkling as if tears adorned the rims.
There was finally life in his eyes instead of the dullness that Kim Jongin saw
when they first met. Even his brows carried some vivacity. To Kim Jongin, eyes
like these were open windows to feelings that Lu Han wanted to bury deep. He
just didn’t want Kim Jongin to see through him.
 
“You can try.” Kim Jongin raised a hand to pinch Lu Han’s earlobe. Lu Han
tilted his head and ducked. Kim Jongin really wanted to pinch his nose and
touch his mouth, but he kept these as silent wishes and didn’t act on them.
Instead, he cupped Lu Han’s face and looked into his eyes with no lust, just
sincerity. Like how he would look at his lover.
 
The way Kim Jongin was looking at him made Lu Han feel guilty and he moved to
strip him of his shirt. Lu Han moved to the side of his face and nipped at his
ear, tracing the outline with his tongue. Then he continued nibbling along the
ear and down to the neck as Kim Jongin palmed his ass and shifted him closer.
Lu Han gloated in the way Kim Jongin’s body grew warmer and his cock stiffened.
He raised his head and looked at Kim Jongin, smiling with meaning and mischief.
Then he bit Kim Jongin on the chin.
 
Kim Jongin helped Lu Han unzip his pants and yanked them down halfway, kneading
the exposed half of Lu Han’s ass and dragging a finger up and down the crevice
between the cheeks. Lu Han was hypnotized by the touch,  Adam’s apple rolling
along his pale neck as he began panting heavily. He pressed against Kim Jongin,
one hand coiled around his neck while dragging the other hand from the chest,
to those abs, then down to the edge of his briefs. Lu Han committed these
lovely contours to memory.
 
Kim Jongin pinched Lu Han’s nipples and rubbed circles along the flushed
outline, while pushing his finger through the crack between Lu Han’s cheeks
faster. Lu Han scooted closer to him and straightened his back, grinding his
erection – already exposed before he knew it – against Kim Jongin’s clothed one
through his pants. Kim Jongin leaned down and kissed Lu Han’s clavicles. Lu Han
pulled him up and propped him against the head of the bed, then straddled him,
his entrance hovering just above the tent in Kim Jongin’s pants while his cock
pressed against the other’s stomach. Lu Han pushed himself into Kim Jongin and
ground against him back and forth. Kim Jongin was rapt from watching Lu Han
take the initiative, drinking in the traces of last night on his body. He
barely noticed when Lu Han dragged his pants off.
 
Lu Han looked at the stain in Kim Jongin’s briefs, outlining the shape of his
want. “You couldn’t hold it huh…” he muttered. He leaned in and captured Kim
Jongin’s nipples in his mouth, then dragged his tongue down the chest to the
navel, nibbling on those abs and tracing the lines with his tongue. He kissed
Kim Jongin’s throbbing cock through the fabric.
 
The gesture was extremely pious and affectionate. Kim Jongin couldn’t bother to
muse what this meant. He was panting so hard his breaths were heavy and
irregular. He tilted his head and tugged Lu Han’s chin forward, forcing Lu Han
to look straight at him. Kim Jongin could see himself in those eyes – it was
unmistakable. In the eyes of a naked Lu Han, there was a naked Kim Jongin,
painting a picture titillating beyond measures.
 
Kim Jongin abandoned his self-control. He pulled out a bottle of lube from a
drawer in the bedside table and squeezed some on his fingers, then slid them
around Lu Han’s waist to his ass, lingering around the entrance teasingly. Lu
Han shuddered, an honest reaction from his heated body to the cold in Kim
Jongin’s fingertips. Lu Han suddenly wanted to kiss him.
 
But he didn’t. Instead, he bit down on his lip and tugged at Kim Jongin’s
hand,  pushing his fingers in. Even Kim Jongin could feel Lu Han’s impatience
once his fingers slipped inside. “Hurry up…” Hurry, Lu Han thought, I’m running
out of time. It would be farewell after tonight. But Kim Jongin was not in a
rush. He slowly glided his fingers in and out, enjoying the way they were
sucked into Lu Han before adding another digit. Each push and pull was
unhurried. His fingers slid across a protruding spot, drawing fluid from the
prostate. Kim Jongin looked at the flush in Lu Han’s skin and how drunk he was
on his touch. Kim Jongin was having hell of a time to hold it in, too.
 
“Can you do it.. or…” Lu Han wanted him desperately. He grasped Kim Jongin’s
incredibly hardened cock and sloppily pumped it a few times before sinking down
on it with gritted teeth. It was still tough even with the fluid and the lube.
Lu Han finally managed to sit all the way down, but it hurt so much that he
couldn’t move up and down. He could only shift slowly with hands gripping Kim
Jongin’s shoulders. It wasn’t enough.
 
More, Lu Han wanted more, there was no such thing as too much. Straddling, he
began to move as he endured the pain. Even so, he wanted more.
 
The ceiling light above them buzzed, probably from the death of another
foolishly brazen moth.
 
Kim Jongin was unbelievably turned on by Lu Han riding him. Seeing him bite
down on his lip harshly, Kim Jongin didn’t have the heart to just sit back and
watch. So he gripped Lu Han’s waist and moved along with him, thrusting all the
way up the hilt. Every time he hit the deepest end, Lu Han’s erection grew. He
heard the sound of his own body colliding with Kim Jongin’s, not even a gap
between where their skins met. They were made to be together like this.
 
Lu Han took a hold of his own cock and began stroking to the rhythm Kim Jongin
set up. Kim Jongin watched him bare his neck wantonly, the lump in his throat
rolling to his groans, and became mesmerized. He placed his hand over Lu Han’s
fist and kissed him in the neck. Lu Han couldn’t stop moaning, nor did he want
to.
 
Kim Jongin pulled him up and changed positions, pushing him down and nudging
open Lu Han’s legs with his own. The sheets crinkled beneath Lu Han’s back as
he shifted around, then threw his arms over Kim Jongin’s neck and coiled his
legs around his waist. He had never done this before. Rather than giving
himself up for sex, he was giving himself to the feelings hidden in the
innermost part of him. Feelings he was afraid to confront.
 
Only the sounds of them coming together were heard. Even if the day and night
switched places, even if earthquakes and tsunamis came roaring, nothing could
stop them from molding their bodies into each other’s soul. The love they made
was a secret not to be told, as if completing a ritual.
 
 Bliss spread all the way to their toes as Kim Jongin drove in long and deep,
like he was penetrating Lu Han’s entirety. Lu Han’s breaths were getting more
and more urgent. Kim Jongin pressed down on his slit. “Wait for me.” Then he
pushed in hard and hit a spot inside Lu Han, one he had already become familiar
with. Kim Jongin let go as Lu Han clenched out of pleasure, and they reached
climax together.
 
Kim Jongin fell asleep with Lu Han in his arms. Lu Han listened to his
breathing. He was still heated and hard, as if he could never be satisfied. He
didn’t sleep a wink the whole night. Inside his chest was gusts whirling amidst
a vast darkness. There was only one place that could give him light and offer
him a safe haven.
 
He didn’t want to acknowledge who stood in that place.
 
 
                                     Six.
                                        
I think you’re still in my room
Not leaving until you show that you care for me
One last time
 
 
The next morning, Kim Jongin was still spooning Lu Han. Lu Han felt something
strange, then realized that Kim Jongin’s cock was still inside him, buried like
a declaration claiming his body. Lu Han wiggled his ass as he struggled to get
it out, but only felt it grow larger, its existence undeniable.
 
He turned around. Kim Jongin was looking at him.
 
“I’m leaving,” said Lu Han after a pause. “Today.”
 
“I know.”
 
“Then… take it out.”
 
“In a little while…” Kim Jongin laid his head on top of Lu Han’s and pulled him
in closer. After a few moments, he finally pulled out just as Lu Han opened his
mouth to protest again.
 
Lu Han had never felt this sapped and empty.
 
He got out of the bed and on his feet, his back to Kim Jongin. He held on to
the wall as he trudged toward the bathroom. The more steps he took, the more
aware he became of the stickiness of the cum Kim Jongin had left inside him,
preventing him from taking strides comfortably. He knew that Kim Jongin was
watching him, with a gaze that he never knew how to hide from.
 
Lu Han turned back, grabbing a set of clean clothes, then went into the
bathroom.
 
When he came outside, Kim Jongin was already dressed, lying in bed with eyes
fixated on the television. This took Lu Han by surprise. All this time they
spent together, it was the first time Kim Jongin watched television on his own.
 
Before, Lu Han was the one who would turn on the television and laugh
hysterically at variety shows while Kim Jongin watched him in bewilderment, not
understanding why he found it so funny. When Lu Han finally sensed his eyes on
him, he would turn around and look at Kim Jongin with tears from laughing
glistening in his eyes. Kim Jongin would be dazed for a beat, then suddenly
grabbed Lu Han and pushed him down. This was Kim Jongin’s nighttime
entertainment rather than television shows.
 
These were Lu Han’s thoughts as he packed, and he began to get mad for no
particular reason. He purposely made as much noise as he could – the noise from
packing, unplugging the charger, zipping up his backpack. He wanted to get Kim
Jongin’s attention, even just a little bit, but he didn’t know that Kim
Jongin’s eyes were never focused on the television. He was pressing random
buttons on the remote control, following Lu Han’s each movement out of the
corner of his eyes.
 
Until Lu Han was all packed up. Until Lu Han was really about to leave. He
stood in front of Kim Jongin.
 
“So… I’m gonna go.”
 
Kim Jongin’s eyes were silent. He stretched out his right hand, inviting a
handshake.
 
Lu Han blanked for a beat, then extended his right hand too, grasping Kim
Jongin’s large hand, the palm dry and warm. Kim Jongin caressed Lu Han’s palm
with calloused fingertips. Lu Han’s hand was so small, he had never seen a
man’s hands this small. Lu Han tilted his head up and looked at him. He let go
of Lu Han’s hand, then pulled him by the arm into a hug, the purest hug. Once
again, they were pressed against each other, close enough to read each other’s
heartbeats and decipher the secrets laced in between each beat.
 
After a short hug, Kim Jongin let Lu Han go. They fell into silence. Then Lu
Han turned around.
 
He left. They didn’t say goodbye.
 
Kim Jongin was rooted to the same spot. He watched Lu Han open the door, then
close it, the latch snapping shut. Lu Han left carrying the backpack he brought
with him. Each of Lu Han’s movements happened very quickly in  a series, but
they were replayed over and over in Kim Jongin’s eyes. How Lu Han flashed him a
distant smile, placing his left foot over his right as he turned around,
picking up his backpack and throwing it over his shoulders, dropping a hand on
the lever and pulling the door open, taking a step outside with his head down,
and then, finally, closing the door slowly from the outside. The memory of this
moment was crisply fresh in his head, everything in high resolution, even Lu
Han’s eyelashes, the fine hair on his cheeks, and the small scar under his
mouth.
 
Lu Han left this afternoon. Kim Jongin remained standing by the door, while Lu
Han continued walking.
 
Kim Jongin was hit by regrets, but he didn’t know where they came from. Maybe
he regretted coming to this town and walking into this hotel. Maybe he
regretted seeing the side of Lu Han’s face at the front desk, his lips pressed
together. Maybe he regretted how his eyes caught the drops of water trickling
down from Lu Han’s forehead as he leaned against the dresser. Or maybe he
regretted the mood and the moon at that moment, and how clearly he saw Lu Han’s
face in the dark.
 
He couldn’t put it into words. He just felt that his lungs were suddenly filled
with water, weighing him down.
 
Then when he finally snapped out of his thoughts, the whole room smelled like
Lu Han. When they were together, he didn’t notice how strong this smell was, a
smell that carried Lu Han’s scent. Now that he was gone, the scent suddenly
became powerful enough to control his mind. He slumped down on the bed that
they had sex in every night, exhausted but afraid to lie down, because this bed
held ninety-nine percent of the memory for the times they spent together. His
chest squeezed so tight that it slipped his mind to smoke a cigarette. He ended
up kneading his temples.
 
The day after Lu Han left, Kim Jongin also packed up to leave. When he asked to
pay, the girl at the front desk told him Lu Han had already footed the bill. He
looked upset.
 
“What happened?” the girl asked tentatively. “He looked sad when he left…”
 
Kim Jongin raised his eyes and gave her a look. She grew quiet apologetically.
 
“Where did he go?” Kim Jongin asked her after a pause.
 
“I.. I don’t know…” She stammered out, alarmed by the disgruntled look and dark
circles on his face.
 
“Tell me the ID number he used to register.”
 
“110108…” The girl recited, her professional code of conduct abandoned.
 
“Thanks.” He knew what this meant. 110108. The digits indicated Haidian
District, Beijing. The same as his own.
 
But he didn’t rush to get back. He stuck to his original itinerary and drove to
Black City. He went along the vacant state highway  through the desert, the
passenger’s seat next to him no longer occupied. He squinted as he looked over
the expanse carpeted by mustard yellow, the sky wearing an innocent blue until
the wind began to blow, whipping up whirlpools. He pulled over at the outskirts
of Black City and saw the tips of watchtowers in the far horizon, then walked
toward the magnificence of a fallen empire, alone. He moved slowly through the
sand, his legs weary no matter how much strength he wanted to exert. One step
after another, as if he was walking on ice.
 
 He climbed to the top of the fortress alone. A gale swiped over the vast
desert, the early-afternoon sun blinding and almost burning his skin. In the
scorching sand, he sat smoking one cigarette after another, the familiar fume
smarting his eyes. His eyes fell on the groups of travelers coming and going,
but his thoughts were far, far away.  The sandy wind could have etched him into
a statue of someone full of love.
 
Only when twilight hid the sun did he start walking back slowly.
 
 
                                    Seven.
                                        
May I never repent until I die
                       
 
It had been two weeks since Lu Han returned to Beijing.
 
After he came back, the people around him thought he had changed drastically.
There was no longer hesitation and avoidance in his eyes, as if he had returned
to the way he used to be, when his girl was still alive. But he knew better. He
was just confining himself to a mold that conformed to people’s expectations,
putting up a flawless show before them. This person wasn’t Lu Han.
 
The real Lu Han became a lot like Kim Jongin. He began smoking the brand that
Kim Jongin smoked, even the way he held a cigarette and raised it to his lips
mimicked how Kim Jongin did it. He looked for a long time before finding that
unique smell. Every day, he buried himself in Kim Jongin’s nicotine-infused
scent, so it felt like Kim Jongin was right next to him.
 
His smiles were bitter. He smiled bitterly for his amateurish imitation and
delusional yearning.
 
He had tried going to places like nightclubs, too. But beautiful, skimpily clad
women grinding on him in a hubbub – he found it boring. There was no point to
lovemaking if no lust was involved. He had also tried taking girls to hotels,
to explore the curves exquisitely designed by the Creator, but he could never
get into it. Maybe it was because he felt guilty toward his ex-girlfriend, or
because of something else.
 
What about finding himself another man? The mere thought repulsed him, making
his hair stand up.
 
He couldn’t sleep again. Every night was like the first night after he returned
– even though he was exhausted, his eyes stayed open, watching the sky turn an
ashy shade of white. He consoled himself that it was because he had been away
for a while and his body needed some getting used to, that he should give it
some time and it would be fine after two days. But two weeks had passed, and he
was still stuck in insomnia. No matter how hard he tried, he could never sleep
as soundly as he did when Kim Jongin was beside him.
 
Don’t kid yourself, he thought as he pulled the pin off a can of beer, half
trying to relax using alcohol, half reminding himself. He chanted to himself
everyday: Forget him. Forget him and everything will be fine.
 
Kim Jongin. What happened with him was just a game, a dream, a glass of
intoxicating aphrodisiac, a sleeping pill lying in the palm of his hand.  None
of these things was good for him. Lu Han shook his head. Stop thinking. You
left him already.
 
I don’t fucking regret a thing, he thought as he took a gulp, though he
couldn’t help but recalling Kim Jongin’s eyes. He could never find a way to
describe those eyes, he just remembered that they were so deep, so very deep.
How deep? Like he was smiling at you through his eyes, saying nothing, and you
would be willing to lie underneath him and cry out for more, to wait for him to
warm up your body unhurriedly; willing to let him share your body temperature,
your wholeness and your brokenness; willing to quench his thirst with your
streams, to let him conquer you like climbing a mountain and then sending it to
higher summits; willing to bear the pain and persevere.
 
He took another sip, batting away Kim Jongin’s shadow before his eyes. He was
like the little match girl, fantasizing warmth by striking her matches. With
every mouthful he swallowed, he was imagining a complete self through slight
inebriation.
 
How complete was his complete self? He was most complete when Kim Jongin was
inside him.
 
This time, the thought of Kim Jongin’s body came to him. He thought he must be
losing his mind. He raised a trembling hand to his ear, recalling that Kim
Jongin had touched him there. The thought set his ear on fire, the heat forcing
him to admit that he had become reliant on that man. He couldn’t be apart from
him. He needed Kim Jongin in his life.
 
He scoffed silently. He was okay with anything happening to him, anything but
love.
 
He was getting warmer, restless as if bugs were crawling over his heart. This
would happen whenever he thought of Kim Jongin, a feeling of wanting something
unattainable. But he was in denial. His stubbornness was a shield, a golden
bell and iron shirt that formed boundaries impenetrable by swords and knives.
If he didn’t admit to it or verbalize it, it wasn’t true.
 
But he knew better than anyone where the heat in his body was coming from.
 
The body gave the most honest answer.
 
His finger travelled along his ear and down to his neck, the pulse drumming
underneath the pads of his fingertips was small but palpable. He closed his
eyes, recalling how serious Kim Jongin looked when he kissed him there. The way
Kim Jongin licked his neck, the tip of his tongue brushing over lightly, the
way he sucked the back of his ear until it left marks and then bit on the lobe
playfully. His breaths began to quicken at the memory, while he started to
wonder what Kim Jongin thought of him – just a temporary companion in bed, or
someone he wanted to hold hands with and go on a journey together.
 
He couldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop his thoughts or his hands. It was as if Kim
Jongin had cast a spell on his body. Anything Kim Jongin, anything to do with
this man would boil his blood and make it rush down south, the growing desire
unstoppable, like now. He was well aware of the changes in his body. He leaned
back on the sofa, panting as his head dropped backward. He reached for his
crotch, but stopped himself. He held back because he knew that once there was a
first time, a second time would happen too easily.
 
Suffering was inevitable for quitting.
 
Time to move on. After a while of struggling, he got up and took a cold shower.
 
He and Kim Jongin – they were perfect together. To Lu Han, Kim Jongin was a
floating island. After six months of wandering (or even longer), Kim Jongin
showed him that there wasn’t just acrid water in this world, but also land. Kim
Jongin was the stretch of dry land he found.
 
To Kim Jongin, Lu Han was a beach. He left marks on Lu Han like footprints by
the seashore. Even though tides would wash away these footprints, they couldn’t
be returned by the same waves. But Kim Jongin needed him. Lu Han showed him
that there were also soft spots in the land of this world.
 
He climbed onto him, while he pulled him up. They needed each other and met
each other’s needs.
 
Be patient, this was only the foreplay to love.
 
 
                                    Eight.
                                        
This moment I’m waiting
For your kiss that lasts for a thousand moments
 
 
The circles underneath Lu Han’s eyes were as dark as the night. In his hand was
a plastic bag containing cigarettes and beer newly purchased from a convenience
store. The night was long, and he needed them to fall asleep. He walked through
the garden in his neighborhood, head down, a cigarette with dying sparks
dangling from his fingers. The evening breeze of October was getting chilly,
the moon gleaming lazily. Lu Han picked up his pace.
 
Just as he was about to turn into his apartment building, someone called him
out of the bushes on the opposite side.
 
Lu Han turned around and saw him, disbelief filling his eyes. Kim Jongin swiped
soil off his ass and walked over. He reached out and drew the cigarette from Lu
Han’s hand, taking a long drag. He cocked an eyebrow at Lu Han. “This is the
brand I smoke?” Lu Han just looked at him, unspeaking. He was still trying to
figure out if he was drunk, if the person before him was a hallucination.
 
Kim Jongin flicked away the cigarette butt, the feeble spark slicing through
the dark with an unbroken trajectory.
 
Lu Han was still stunned. He didn’t know what kind of an offhanded greeting he
could make into a nonchalant prologue to this occasion.
 
Kim Jongin grinned at him, wide smile wrinkling a serious face. He took the
plastic bag from Lu Han’s hand. The cans clunked against each other as he shook
the bag before Lu Han’s eyes.
 
“You’re not doing well.” Kim Jongin stared into his eyes. It was a statement,
not a question.
 
“Yes.” Lu Han admitted to it instead of refuting. He tried to tear his eyes
away from that face, but Kim Jongin grabbed his arm and pulled him into the
stairwell.
 
Kim Jongin’s lips quirked up in a satisfied smile, keeping his grip on Lu Han’s
arm.
 
“Miss me?”
 
“….” Lu Han did not answer this time. How could he tell Kim Jongin that he
never forgot him?
 
Kim Jongin pressed Lu Han into the wall. They looked at each other in silence,
and the sensor light hovering above them switched off. The periodic footsteps
from pedestrians strolling  outside, the noise of car tires rolling over
manholes, the meows of cats, and the sound of wind blowing in the distance –
none of these was relevant.
 
Only darkness could bring out honesty.
 
They looked at each other the way they did on the night they met, quickly
sinking into the darkness marred by scattering specks. Kim Jongin raised a hand
and slid it behind Lu Han’s head, breaking the friction against the wall. He
leaned in and looked down at Lu Han.
 
“Did you miss me?” he asked again.
 
Lu Han finally regained awareness, all of his senses climbing along the arm
that Kim Jongin was grasping, up to his face, his eyes, every hair on his skin.
 
“Guess.” Warm breaths slipped past his lips as he replied, slithering into Kim
Jongin’s body and spreading.
 
The night lit up as smiles travelled into Lu Han’s eyes.
 
Kim Jongin ignored his smiling eyes as he shifted and tugged at Lu Han’s chin.
He moved closer and closer until the tips of their noses touched, then their
lips met. It was a long overdue kiss. Lu Han closed his eyes.
 
They sucked at each other’s lips harshly, kissing loudly, as if to transfer
days of missing to the other using their lips. Lu Han followed Kim Jongin’s
tempo, biting into the other’s lower lip and pulled lightly, while Kim Jongin
took this chance to pry open Lu Han’s teeth and his tongue slithered in like a
snake, softly swiping over every corner in Lu Han’s mouth – the gum, the teeth,
the farthest end of the tongue. Lu Han’s legs gave out and he slumped against
Kim Jongin, all the impulses he had been trying to shove aside now returning to
him with just one kiss. He pushed Kim Jongin away, breaths already ragged.
 
“Yes, I did…”
 
Kim Jongin smiled smugly. He ruffled up Lu Han’s hair.
 
“Me too.”
 
Lu Han looked at that smirk, then lifted his chin and ran his tongue over Kim
Jongin’s lip. He dragged his tongue to the corner of his mouth, leaving his own
scent there as he sucked lightly. Kim Jongin captured his mouth and darted out
his tongue, delivering his own smell into Lu Han’s mouth bit by bit, then
sucked the tip of his tongue with content as he tasted the Lu Han that carried
his own scent.
 
A hand slipped into Lu Han’s shirt and glided across his stomach, the familiar
feeling spreading from his fingertips to his core. Lu Han responded to Kim
Jongin’s kiss earnestly, but pushed him away when he felt heat growing in his
belly. A string of saliva hung from the corner of his mouth obscenely, Kim
Jongin leaned down and lapped it up.
 
“What’s wrong?” He held Lu Han’s left hand, voice full of uncontrollable lust.
 
Lu Han tried to steady his breathing and lifted the left hand being held by Kim
Jongin.
 
“I used this hand whenever I thought of you,” he smiled.
 
Kim Jongin looked at him, stumped. The rays hummed by the streetlight made a
curve and travelled into Lu Han’s eyes, lighting up fireworks by his eyelashes.
He saw a brightened outline of himself in Lu Han’s eyes, radiant like a child
receiving a present. Kim Jongin chuckled and lifted Lu Han’s hand, then held
his eyes as he sucked on the fingers one by one, the tip of his tongue twirling
around before the base enveloped each digit. His taste buds distinguished the
way Lu Han’s hand smelled – a clean, pure aroma mixed with a familiar scent of
faded cigarette smoke, heated sweat beginning to seep out of the pores.
 
The ministration sapped strength from Lu Han’s legs. He looked at Kim Jongin
with glistening eyes.
 
Meows suddenly erupted from the garden and grew increasingly shrill.  Rather
than shrill, wanton was more like it. It was the sound that cats made when in
heat or mating. The ending note dragged long and soft, feeble but hinting
pleasure.
 
“It’s not even spring and they’re already in heat?” Kim Jongin asked Lu Han,
chuckles hidden in his words.
 
Lu Han was having a hard time holding back, but verbally he still managed to
make a comeback.
 
“Seriously... spring is still… a while from now.” He smiled along, trying to
speak through labored breaths. He put his hands on Kim Jongin’s shoulders and
buried his head in the crook of his neck.
 
Kim Jongin tried to kiss his neck, but Lu Han pulled away, albeit with
difficulty.
 
“Up—upstairs…” His voice was quivering so much he couldn’t even form a single
complete word.
 
The spring was actually around the corner. After winter, spring would soon take
its place.
                                        
                                        
                                  Nine (1/1)
                                        
Only I get to touch your everything
The sky might as well fall, the ground could open up
There’s nothing better for us to do than kissing
 
 
Once the door was closed, Kim Jongin pressed Lu Han against it. They both had
stayed away for too long, ready to explode with one touch.
 
“Long time no see.” Tightly wrapped in Kim Jongin’s arms, Lu Han added a
greeting when he still had breaths left.
 
“As soon as you left, I regretted letting you go,” Kim Jongin said.
 
Lu Han saw the same dark circles on his face. Poking at the bags underneath his
eyes, Lu Han’s lips curved into a smile of making even.
 
“You weren’t doing well, either.”
 
“I was smoking nonstop at home, almost set my place on fire.” Kim Jongin
grasped Lu Han’s hand on his face and put it on his chest. “But I was scared to
come find you and end up seeing you with a woman. Or a man.”
 
“I don’t have a woman or a man.” A smile peeked out of the corner of his mouth
and grew wider, unbeknownst to himself.
 
“How would I know if you didn’t tell me?”
 
“You never asked.” What Lu Han wanted to say was that he had tried a bunch of
solutions in the past two weeks since he left, but he always ended up resorting
to his left hand. But he couldn’t tell him any of this.
 
“Actually… I had been waiting downstairs for a few days,” said Kim Jongin as he
studied Lu Han’s face carefully.
 
“Then why didn’t you—“ Lu Han blurted out before snapping his mouth shut,
realizing how he had accidentally revealed his eagerness. He looked at Kim
Jongin, flustered.
 
Kim Jongin leaned down and kissed the back of Lu Han’s ear, the tip red with
embarrassment, before picking up where Lu Han left off.
 
“Because I wanted you to miss me a little longer.”
 
Lu Han tilted up and kissed him.
 
Kim Jongin returned the kiss as he curled an arm around Lu Han’s waist and
pulled him in. Chests pressed against each other, their heartbeats began to
echo back and forth, as if they were brought back to life.
 
The tips of their tongues danced intimately, lips pressed together and angles
changing seamlessly, cultivating every inch of the wetland with sincerity. They
missed each other’s scent too much, wanted it so badly. Kim Jongin chased his
lips, Lu Han followed his kiss, the two sensitive tongues folding over each
other the instant they met.
 
Pleasure was nearly stifling as no space was made for air. Kim Jongin sucked at
Lu Han’s lips, nipping and releasing them repeatedly until they were coated
with his own scent. As if fighting for dominance, Lu Han pushed into Kim
Jongin’s tongue with his own. Kim Jongin’s breaths grew short and he pulled
away slightly.
 
He looked at Lu Han panting, lips moist and breathtaking, like a quiet sort of
allure. He held Lu Han’s head with both hands and kissed him long and hard, his
tongue drawing circles on the roof of the mouth.
 
Lu Han’s hands snaked around his back, relinquishing his whole weight to Kim
Jongin.
 
Kim Jongin tilted down and kissed the back of Lu Han’s ear, then down to his
neck where he bit and sucked, one mark covering the previous one, leaving a
trail of systematic spots like a proud signature. He stripped Lu Han of his
jacket and dropped it on the floor, then took off his own.
 
“Hey, did you buy condoms?”
 
It took some effort for Lu Han to respond, his mind clogged by the kiss that
was this intense only when it was with Kim Jongin.
 
“We never used them,” he replied while trying to catch his breath, wiping the
dampness by his mouth with the back of his hand.
 
“But I’m trying to take responsibility.” Kim Jongin smirked.
 
“… my ass.” There was no malice to his retort – he had missed seeing the
curvature of that smile. He turned around, trying to cover up how he had
blanked out, but Kim Jongin stopped him.
 
He pressed Lu Han into the corner between the door and the wall, then leaned
in, soothing his embarrassment with a kiss. Then he reached for Lu Han’s groin,
tracing his cock through the fabric. Lu Han didn’t like the indirect prickling,
whimpering and rubbing himself against the palm. Kim Jongin looked at him,
grins reaching his eyes.
 
“You’re wet.”
 
“You got wet first.” Lu Han lifted his knee and ground it against the tent in
Kim Jongin’s crotch.
 
“You’re right,” he grabbed Lu Han’s leg and hoisted it beside his own waist,
drawing him closer to the warmth in his cock. “I got wet the second I saw you.”
 
“Hurry…” Lu Han grasped his head with both hands, urging him. Kim Jongin
unzipped him and carefully took his cock out of his briefs, then drew Lu Han’s
left hand into his larger palm and wrapped it around Lu Han’s hardening cock.
He stroked slowly at first, from base to tip, applying equal pressure along the
length.
 
Lu Han felt the throbbing in his cock grow stronger and stronger like his own
pulse. With his head resting on Kim Jongin’s shoulder, Lu Han propped it up
slightly to see how his desire was held in his own and Kim Jongin’s hands,
waking up slowly, then growing little by little until it matured into a shade
of pink. Lu Han retracted his own hand and put it on Kim Jongin’s shoulder, his
cock directly pressing against Kim Jongin’s palm. The want that Lu Han had been
trying to push down in his memory came rising back up with this touch,
surrounding Lu Han’s body like a thick layer of mist.
 
Kim Jongin began fisting faster, each stroke enough to make Lu Han’s neck arch
in bliss. He pressed down on the slit gently with his fingertip while his hand
circled around it teasingly, pleased to feel the way Lu Han’s breaths lost
their rhythm as they huffed on his cheek. He bent down and pulled Lu Han’s
pants down, then his briefs, the fully hardened cock springing free.
 
He lifted his head to Lu Han, who was also looking at him. The features on Lu
Han’s face were taken hostage by lust, the glassy eyes lovely but seemed to be
missing something.
 
Kim Jongin pulled his hand away and stood up, eyes trained on Lu Han.
 
Lu Han was disgruntled by the sudden lack of contact and reached for his own
cock, but Kim Jongin grabbed his wrist, stopping him. Lu Han looked at him
quizzically, struggling to focus with eyes that had grown red at some point.
 
Watching Lu Han like this, Kim Jongin wanted to ask him something.
 
He wanted to know if Lu Han was attracted to him because of him, not only
because of the fullness he gave him when he entered Lu Han, not only because
his lust could be satiated this way. He wanted to know if Lu Han also cared for
the way he smiled, the way his brows furrowed, the bitter cigarette smoke laced
between his fingers. He wanted to check that he had a place in Lu Han’s heart –
if not his name, then at least his shadow. He wanted to confirm that he wasn’t
the only one in love, that Lu Han loved him back.
 
If it was hidden in Lu Han’s eyes, and Kim Jongin would hold his gaze until he
pried it out. If it was hidden between Lu Han’s lips, he would kiss him until
he couldn’t breathe. If it was hidden in Lu Han’s body, he would enter and get
to the deepest, farthest end.
 
What if it was hidden in his heart? That’s fine too, I’ll get into his heart.
 
It’s okay, because I’ll find it. I’ll find something called love in your body
and your soul.
 
I will make you think of this word whenever you see me.
 
It can only be me. No one else but me.
 
 
                                  Nine (2/2)
                                        
Who are you to make me so obsessed


Lu Han waited for Kim Jongin to continue, his eyes urging him to proceed. But
Kim Jongin was determined.

“Who am I?” he asked Lu Han, still tugging at his hand obstinately.


“Who are you…?” Then it dawned on Lu Han. They only knew each other’s body but
not the name.


“Kim Jongin.”


“Kim Jongin…” Lu Han repeated hesitantly. “I’m… Lu Han.”


“I know.” Kim Jongin looked at him, satisfied now that Lu Han knew his name. It
wasn’t that big a deal, really. Names were just labels. But in this moment, Kim
Jongin was adamant about this because he needed Lu Han to know who he was. What
he wanted was Lu Han remembering his name even when he was overtaken by desire.
He wanted to hear Lu Han call out his own name as he drowned in lust, syllables
rolling off with the lump along his mesmerizing neck one after another.


“Remember my name,” Kim Jongin looked at him, gravity in his eyes.


Lu Han opened his mouth to reply, but his lips were quickly sealed before
coherent words could form. His smiling eyes fluttered shut. This kiss was
different from all the ones before. He knew what Kim Jongin meant, he
understood his thoughts. He was the same, trying to check if the man before him
really belonged to him.


“Uh… Kim Jongin…” He pushed Kim Jongin back a little as he changed the way he
called him. “How do you know my name? And that I live here?” he asked, the
thought suddenly springing into his head.

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” Kim Jongin grinned at him.


Lu Han didn’t press. There was much between them that didn’t need pressing. He
pushed into Kim Jongin, rubbing his exposed cock against Kim Jongin’s groin.


“Then… let’s do it.”

Kim Jongin wrapped an arm around Lu Han, closing all distance between them.
Over the fabric, he slid a hand down Lu Han’s back to the crack between his
cheeks. He paused there as his hand recognized the enticing curves he had
memorized, while his lips dragged upward from the chin to the sideburns. Just
kissing wasn’t enough. Kim Jongin stopped and brushed the fine hair there with
his fingers, studying the way they shone underneath the ceiling light. Lu Han
gave silent approval to his scrutiny and tugged his hand to his own earlobe.
This one simple movement was heavy with meaning. Kim Jongin had reached his
destination. He held Lu Han close with the other arm.


“I’m back,” he said, words thick with affection.


Lu Han was touched even though these words seemed out of place. He was back,
and so was he. Tugged by serendipity, they had met in a far away place, and
then they had returned to the same place, brought together by fate. Lu Han
tilted up and kissed him. He regretted not kissing him earlier.


Lu Han pulled Kim Jongin’s shirt off between kisses, then pressing himself
against the other’s exposed chest. He reached for Kim Jongin’s crotch and
palmed him there, the shape of his cock palpable even through the fabric. Lu
Han dragged his pants off. He smiled smugly when he saw the stain in Kim
Jongin’s briefs.

He got on his knees and kissed Kim Jongin in his waist, nibbling his way down.
His lips traced Kim Jongin’s cock through the fabric, exploring the dips and
valleys, then he pulled the briefs down and kissed the part of his belly that
was previously covered. His kisses trailed continuously downward until his
mouth captured Kim Jongin’s cock. He gave light pecks at first, from tip to
base, then kissed his balls.

Despite being enraptured, Kim Jongin’s rationality drove him to pull Lu Han up.
Lu Han raised his head and looked at him.

“It’s okay. I can do it.” As a man, he knew how every man – including Kim
Jongin – desired for this kind of pleasure.

He was willing to do this for him, just like how Kim Jongin was willing to come
find him.


Lu Han darted out his tongue and licked bit by bit, smearing his own scent over
Kim Jongin’s length, like he was declaring ownership, saying: This is mine. Kim
Jongin belongs to Lu Han. He closed his eyes in utter immersion, then opened
his mouth and stretched his lips around the head, tracing circles along the
slit with his tongue. Then he slowly engulfed the whole length. Pleasure
trickled into Kim Jongin’s brain as heat enveloped his cock, but his mind still
managed to churn out one conclusion – he needed Lu Han in his life.


Kim Jongin and Lu Han – they were meant to be together, right from the start.


Lu Han was unskilled, but no straight man would be adept at such ministrations.
His teeth slightly grazed the shaft, and Lu Han looked up at him
apologetically, but this clumsiness made Kim Jongin enjoy it all the more. Lu
Han pulled his eyes back down as he continued to use his own lips – the lips
that Kim Jongin had kissed – to give him the softest bliss and bring him in
deeper. Kim Jongin couldn’t help but bury his fingers in Lu Han’s hair, then
gripped his locks as he began to thrust into his mouth slowly. When he saw
saliva dripping from the corner of Lu Han’s mouth onto his own cock, Kim Jongin
was set on fire.


Lu Han sensed the change in Kim Jongin’s response and slowly pulled away.
Panting, he rested his head against Kim Jongin’s stomach as one hand remained
wrapped around his cock, hair brushing against his waist.


Kim Jongin bent down and picked Lu Han up, then put him on the dining table
close by. They were finally naked before each other after he shed Lu Han’s
shirt. Kim Jongin reached along the wall for the light and switched it on.
There was a large full-length mirror standing beside the table.


They turned and looked into the mirror at the same time. In the mirror, Lu Han
was sitting on the table with Kim Jongin standing before him. Lu Han lowered
his head and chuckled, then looked up, examining Kim Jongin. Compared to
himself, this man stood taller, his skin darker, lips fuller, hands bigger,
shoulders wider, features rougher, even—Lu Han looked down at his own cock and
then at Kim Jongin’s. His chuckles grew into a crisp laughter. Seeing the
unreserved crinkling in the corner of Lu Han’s eyes, Kim Jongin laughed, too.


We’re really a great match.


Lu Han propped himself up on the elbows as Kim Jongin leaned down and kissed
his erection, then took its entirety into his mouth. Lu Han curled his arms
around his neck, breathing heavily as he learned just how pleasurable this
could be. Kim Jongin ran his tongue around and along the length, then stretched
his lips around as he sucked, head bobbing up and down. Compared to Lu Han’s
cautiousness, he was much more impatient and earnest, and Lu Han was panting
harder with each suck. This was a kiss between two bodies. Lu Han pulled his
head up when he was near.


“I’m… coming.” He was pushed over the edge as ripples of pleasure tore through
his chest.


Kim Jongin picked up their clothes from the floor and lay them over the table
before having Lu Han lie back down. He took his place by the edge of the table
and pulled Lu Han’s legs apart. Lu Han drew up his knees for him to grasp, then
Kim Jongin held his impatient cock in his hand before slowly pushing in.

A moan fell from Lu Han’s lips, his body tinted a new shade by Kim Jongin.


He gripped Kim Jongin’s hands, and they were intertwined in their body, their
fingers, and their lips. Kim Jongin spread out Lu Han’s fingers and interlaced
them with his own. He leaned down and looked at Lu Han, brushing away his bangs
that were matted by sweat, revealing his eyebrows.

He kissed the frown set on Lu Han’s forehead, smoothing out the creases at the
corner of his brows.

“Trust me,” he murmured, like sleep talk between lovers.


This was something he had wanted to say a long time ago.
 
He had wanted to tell him this every time.
                                        
                                        
                                     Ten.
                                        
I’ll hold you tight every minute
So we won’t be apart even for a second
 
 
Lu Han craned his neck in yearning for a kiss, then his teeth latched onto the
chin before nipping his way to those lips. The distance between the chin to the
mouth was short, but Lu Han took his time, leaving a trail of marks like loot
taken after a conquest.
 
Kim Jongin leaned in and kissed that button nose, those shapely lips, the small
scar under his lips and the lovely outline of his ear. Each kiss was gentle and
indulgent, as if saying, I won’t let you get hurt. He imprinted scalding marks
on Lu Han’s body and then placed him inside his tenderness, holding his torso
with both hands. Lu Han was soft like  the rain, but strong like steel.  He was
drenched in Lu Han, but the dampness inside his heart gradually evaporated as
his body grew warmer, and he kissed him.
 
On this night, they kissed more than they fucked, as if compensating for the
haze they had missed. Infatuation drove them to kiss every inch on the other’s
body, each sunrise and sunset, places where they were hard and where they were
soft.
 
When he entered Lu Han, it felt like hearing startled sparrows in the
wilderness flapping their wings and gliding across his body, their feathers
brushing over him – it was the utmost ecstasy, irreplaceable, like being
wrapped in velvet or savoring mango-flavored custard. Lu Han’s eyes were shut,
the lashes quivering. Kim Jongin tested the temperature of those lashes with
his lips. It was scorching hot, like they could blast upon one touch.
 
He buried himself into Lu Han, kneading his earlobe affectionately until it was
about to melt and drip honey.
 
“Lu Han…” He kept calling his name, as if chanting a spell. “Lu Han… call my
name…”
 
“….” Lu Han drew his eyes open, his face dampened by sweat.
 
“Lu Han… try calling my name…” Kim Jongin began thrusting faster, proclaiming
his existence inside him. Lu Han looked at him, forcing his eyes open.
 
“Kim.. Jongin,” he gasped out. He tightened his arms around Kim Jongin’s neck,
listening to his heart beating through the ribs, drumming against his ears like
waves crashing into reefs. He would get used to this song. No, he was already
used to this song. He couldn’t be apart from it. Lu Han held onto his neck and
closed their distance.
 
“Kim Jongin… move.. to the bed…”
 
With his arms wrapped around Lu Han, Kim Jongin put him down on the bed. His
fingers stroked Lu Han’s back, caressing his shoulder blades, drawing enticing
moans from Lu Han.  He leaned down and kissed Lu Han exquisitely, carefully
chewing each moan that carried his own name, then swallowed them like candy
with a sincerity that neither of them had seen before.
 
Lu Han kissed him back with half-lidded eyes, his body clashing against Kim
Jongin.
 
Yes, they were like two nuclei colliding, a formidable power from the love they
had built up for each other bursting into sparks that encased each of them. The
waves of pleasure tingling through them at the place of their fusion were like
tremors rippling from the explosion.
 
Even if these sparks were fleeting, they would remember this feeling, tucking
it into their memory completely and securely. Even if they were separated by
distance or restrained by momentary recollections, those sparks would detonate
a new explosion at merely one sound or one brief touch by the other person,
leaving no room for anything else. The flame would light up their faces and
make them laugh, the embers littering everywhere they went, the poignant smell
taking residence in their souls.
 
No matter what, as long as one person called out and came forward, the other
would go to him, driven by a force rising from their synapses. This force had
taken root in the heart – it was an addiction, an instinct.
 
Kim Jongin gripped Lu Han’s waist and drove all the way in. He lifted Lu Han’s
left hand and sank his teeth down on the pad of his ring finger, leaving two
rows of marks. Lu Han hissed in pain, but did not draw back his hand. He let
Kim Jongin bite him, smiling as his eyes landed on the marks his own teeth had
left on Kim Jongin’s chin.
 
After Kim Jongin let go, Lu Han brought his hand for a look and saw the bruise
on his finger.
 
“You’re brutal...”
 
“Does it hurt?” Kim Jongin asked him.
 
“Not as much as… this…” Lu Han hiked his leg up to Kim Jongin’s shoulder and
hooked it around his neck, then bucked up and began moving, affirming Kim
Jongin over and over again. Kim Jongin kissed him, smiling into his mouth as he
resumed thrusting, harder, faster, closer to heaven.
 
“I’ve slept with.. other women…” Kim rasped out as he kissed Lu Han’s
clavicles. The words took register in Lu Han’s head and he steered Kim Jongin’s
head, making him look into his eyes.
 
“How… was it?”
 
“Not as good as… you…” Kim Jongin leaned in and kissed him, and Lu Han nibbled
at his tongue.
 
They didn’t tell each other sweet nothings, and they didn’t speak of their
longing and misery during the days they were apart. Nor did they murmur stilted
lovetalk like “I love you” or “I can’t live without you”. Love between two men
required showing. They weren’t venting their sexual frustrations or letting
themselves loose. They were making love.
 
“Don’t leave, okay…?”
 
“I never planned to go back…”
 
To them, sex was more than sex, affection stirring thickly in their body. No
stimulation needed, and the night was filled with climax one after another.
 
In complete darkness, they couldn’t see themselves, but experienced who they
were through the other person. One after another, they fell into this
spellbound, fantastical hole. They kept falling and falling, but they would
never get hurt because they were falling into a galaxy as fluffy as clouds. In
that place, they had someone who tasted divinely sweet, someone who wouldn’t
disappear even if they woke up from a dream.
 
That person would never disappear.
 
By the end of it all, Lu Han lied beside Kim Jongin and tilted his head to the
window. The far horizon wore a dark shade of azure. The sun was rising.
 
Kim Jongin sat up against the head of the bed. He drew a cigarette out of the
pack lying on the bedside table, lit it up, and took a long drag. Lu Han tried
to sit up. After conceding that it wasn’t possible, he opted to rest his head
on Kim Jongin’s lap. Lu Han reached out and tugged at his arm.
 
“Put it out.”
 
Kim Jongin grasped Lu Han’s hand and looked down at him.
 
“Lu Han…” He paused, as if gathering resolve. “You’re the first man I’ve been
with.”
 
Lu Han blanked for a beat, then broke into a smile.
 
“So are you.”
 
Kim Jongin had never seen Lu Han like this, beaming like a child getting candy
while the way the corner of his eyes crinkled was unbelievably sexy. Kim Jongin
couldn’t help but leaned in and kissed him, sweet and short but lingering on Lu
Han’s lips.
 
“What are you thinking?” he asked Lu Han.
 
Lu Han reached out and drew the cigarette from Kim Jongin, taking a smoke. Then
he pulled Kim Jongin down for a solid kiss.
 
“I’m thinking… maybe we should get a bigger bed.”
 
Smile reached all the way up to Kim Jongin’s eyes. He snuffed out the cigarette
with a pinch and pulled Lu Han up straight.
 
“Tomorrow?” he asked, voice lively and full of indulgence.
 
Lu Han nodded, then yawned.
 
“Lu Han…” Kim Jongin pulled him close, smile too large to be tucked into the
corner of his lips.
 
“Hm?” Lu Han mumbled.
 
“Sleep with me.”
 
Lu Han hummed in acknowledgement. He was already worn out. His breaths slowed
as he rested his head against Kim Jongin’s. Kim Jongin coiled an arm around Lu
Han’s waist, and Lu Han was content when the unmistakable scent of daylight and
the sun – Kim Jongin’s scent – travelled into his nose. His eyes fluttered
shut. He could finally get some rest.
 
Kim Jongin drew the blanket over them and held Lu Han close in his arms. He
kissed him on the forehead before falling sleep.
 
Because they became lovers like poplar trees, because they created this form of
truthfulness together, Lu Han and Kim Jongin were finally able to sleep
together and sleep well.
 
Outside, the sky brightened up and sunlight snuck through the gaps in the
curtains, lighting up their world.
 
No need to rush, we have all the time in the world. So sleep with me.
 
 
 
                                     Zero.
                                        
My black coat wants to make you warm
 
 
It was the end of March, still cold when it rained.
 
Kim Jongin went to an acquaintance’s funeral. He wondered how come funerals
always tended to be held in the rain. It was getting chaotic, the gravity of
the situation overshadowed by gossip as the crowd grew. Kim Jongin wasn’t close
with the deceased. They lived in the same neighborhood and ran into each other
a few times, going their separate ways after making small talks about the
weather.
 
He died in a car accident, supposedly driving while intoxicated. The accident
was a major one, described by witnesses as extremely horrific. At the time, he
crashed into a taxi, the girl in the passenger’s seat died almost instantly
after failure to rescue. Both parties were at fault, but because one passed
away, settling the score was impossible, and disputes were minimal.
 
The wife of the deceased was greeting guests by the entrance, dressed in all
black. Her eyes were red all around the rims, tears held back behind them. Kim
Jongin offered his condolences and handed over a memorial donation and bouquet,
then fled out of there.
 
The cemetery was quiet. It was also nearly empty because of the rain.
 
With a cigarette tucked between his lips, Kim Jongin walked through the grass
and saw someone sitting on a bench a few feet away, all by himself. The person
was a man with a boyish frame, dressed in a black suit, succumbed to the
downpour in silent melancholy.
 
He walked over and studied him quietly.
 
The man was holding a white rose in his hand, most likely not from a flower
shop as it still bore thorns on the stem. Kim Jongin looked at his hand. There
was a small cut on his finger, probably pricked by the thorn.
 
The man kept his head down. He looked gaunt, like he had been crushed by
something heavy.
 
Kim Jongin didn’t know why, but the sight made his chest ache, and he had an
urge to hug him. He took a stride over and sat down next to the man, who kept
his head down, unaware of Kim Jongin. But his lack of response didn’t bore Kim
Jongin. Holding his umbrella, Kim Jongin sat and soundlessly watched the man’s
pallid features.
 
After a while, Kim Jongin tightened and loosened his grip on the umbrella. Then
he closed the umbrella and put it down on the bench between himself and the
man.
 
“Take it. Remember to give it back,” Kim Jongin said as he got up to leave.
 
The man said thanks without raising his head.
 
Kim Jongin shoved his hands into his pockets and continued walking.
 
Then, he heard someone – probably an elderly woman – say something behind him.
 
“Lu Han, don’t be sad… I’ll take you as my godson…”
 
Kim Jongin paused and recited, Lu Han.
 
--
 
“Hey, Lu Han…” Kim Jongin turned and faced Lu Han after he woke up.
 
“What?” Lu Han replied after a pause, still groggy.
 
“Where’s my umbrella?” Kim Jongin moved closer, eyes falling on the stubble on
Lu Han’s chin.
 
“What umbrella?” Lu Han sat up.
 
“You don’t remember?” Kim Jongin frowned. “I think I lent you an umbrella…
about six months ago? It was you, right?”
 
Lu Han stared at him, then something suddenly occurred to him.
 
“Were you wearing a black trench coat?” he asked. Kim Jongin nodded. Lu Han
broke into a chuckle.
 
“You wanted me to give it back to you so I went back many times, but I never
saw you there. Then I carried it with me at all times, just in case I ran into
you, but it turned out we met in Ejin—“
 
Kim Jongin leaned in and kissed him. They became intertwined in an instant. Lu
Han pulled away for a beat.
 
“Were you—at that time, did you…“
 
“Did I what?” Kim Jongin waited for him to finish.
 
“Nothing.” Lu Han pressed his lips against Kim Jongin’s.
 
There were many things that didn’t need probing. There’s no need to ask when it
started, because I know it will never end.
 
 
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