Chapter Text
The rain pelted softly against his window the first time Dowoon woke up. He blinked a couple of times, adjusting himself to the gloomy morning sunshine. Dark clouds were draped across the overcast sky from where the rain poured, shrouding the neighbourhood in a blurry, greyscale crepuscule.
Something pounded at the back of his eyeballs as he drifted into a clearer state of consciousness, thickly swallowing his saliva. Dowoon pushed himself on his elbow from where he was laid on his side, just then becoming aware of the weight numbing his arm and the warmth spilling from the skin-on-skin contact.
Wonpil was sleeping soundly beside him, stark naked and barely concealed by his blanket. Dowoon’s insides squirmed at the sight, then at the thought of their late night activities. His heart tingled as he reached out to brush the bristles of hair that were poking into his sealed eyes. Wonpil’s lips fluttered before they settled into a calm, straight line.
Knowing himself, Dowoon could never ease himself back to sleep, at least not so soon. Without removing his arm under Wonpil’s neck, he grabbed his phone from the floor, entangled in the pile of clothes they’d both hysterically relieved themselves of the night before. Dowoon’s chest swelled up as he recognised his glaring red underwear among the mess, quickly averting his gaze and pulling himself back to his bed along with his phone.
The first thing he noticed was the time. Nobody should be awake at 6:32 on a Saturday morning, it was too unreasonable an hour to already begin a free day. But like with many other things, Dowoon failed at conforming to the norm and there he laid in his bed, smelling of sex and losing blood in his arm if only to pillow Wonpil’s head as he undid the knots his earphones had tied themselves into with one hand.
Where Dowoon would normally wake up into a bad mood, finding fault with his total inability to sleep to a satisfying extent, today, nothing really mattered or meant anything. He was simply thrown in an unmoving state of bliss, it seemed, still not quite earthbound from the seven stages of heaven his multiple orgasms shot him through yesterday night. Placing the buds of his earphones in his ears, Dowoon hit shuffle. Immediately catching on to the slow pinch of guitar strings bleeding into his ears, Dowoon closed his eyes as he listened to Muse’s Unintended .
You could be my unintended
Choice to live my life extended
You could be the one I’ll always love
Something settled within him. It was a very strange feeling, and he couldn’t quite describe it to himself. Heavy, constricting, stealing the languid breaths in his lungs. The dull world outside still swayed with the wind, silver drops of rain knocking at the glass of his window.
You could be the one who listens
To my deepest inquisitions
You could be the one I’ll always love
As though on instinct, Dowoon shifted to cast his still drowsy gaze upon Wonpil, swallowing down the feelings that bubbled to the brim of his throat. Like always, his boyfriend seemed absent from reality, physically breathing but mentally gone to another place. Though he was just sleeping, Dowoon suspected it was the only time where he felt most at peace.
I’ll be there as soon as I can
But I’m busy mending broken
Pieces of the life I had before
For a reason or another, he wanted to cry. Maybe listening to music turned out to be a bad idea, after all, especially one reminiscent of his intense affections. Still, with his heart clenching and the rims of his eyes burning from the exertion of keeping his tears at bay, Dowoon did scarce to shut off the music. It was talking to him, unearthing something he should probably know.
First, there was the one who challenged
All my dreams and all my balance
She could never be as good as you
They didn’t go all the way last night. He wasn’t quite certain how to feel about that yet. It had begun with a mind-blowing blowjob that left him empty and shaking with never-before-known pleasure, and had ended with Dowoon returning the favour by humping Wonpil until they orgasmed at least three times throughout the night. Before he’d unrememberingly passed out, he might have seen the first few pale beams of the morning sun. With that in mind, maybe his throbbing, sleep-deprived headache made more sense now.
You could be my unintended
Choice to live my life extended
You should be the one I’ll always love
Judging from the arm that was slung over Dowoon’s bare waist, Wonpil certainly couldn’t afford to let go of him, though he was in a place far away and blissfully oblivious to the hold he had on Dowoon. It felt comfortably weird to have the whole of his naked body laced with another person’s naked limbs, especially when the one to have him in such protective hold was someone his heart throbbed for.
Dowoon’s assiduous watching must have worn him off because his lids suddenly weighed too much for him to keep peeling them back. His vision blurred, and before he drifted back to sleep, the one thing besieging his mind was how Wonpil had been all but intended in his life. And that was the most astounding thing that ever happened to him since his birth.
The second time Dowoon woke up, eyes not yet open, a human weight was squirming on top of him. Not just anywhere on top of him, as his scorched hot body tried to alert him, but outright on his groin. He grunted, not yet realising it was out of impure bliss, stretching on the bed. The weight only allowed him to go so far, and as Dowoon brought his hand to wipe the slumber out of his eyes, the phone that had been in his clutch fell flat into his face and slipped away to god knows where. The earphones that were once supposed to be there vanished, probably tangled in a jumble somewhere on the floor.
If that was no sufficient wake up call, a wave of pleasure suddenly seized him, pushing a moan out of his throat and effectively shocking him to full consciousness. He felt warm hands slide up his naked torso, coming to a grip around either side of his shoulders.
He opened his eyes to Wonpil sitting upon his pelvis, grinding down so Dowoon could acutely remember the curves of his backside without having to see it. Their bare bodies reacted together, swimming in all sorts of fluids. It seemed a part of his body had long woken up before him, burning in anger from being oppressed and not catered to. The rain outside still poured, thrashing and spilling down from his windowsill. The grey clouds seemed to be drifting in his room, enshrouding them in thin darkness.
“Ah, that’s nice,” he grunted, unthinkingly bringing his hands to grapple Wonpil’s hips. Wonpil smirked down at him, gaze lazy and cloudy, himself looking quite intoxicated by their physical junction.
“Dowoon,” his raspy voice trembled, lowering himself to press scalding kisses to his jaw. “Do you want to-- oh …. do you want to go inside me?”
Dowoon’s mind screeched to a tumultuous stop, yet his nether parts twitched with shameless vigor, agreeing, raging with desire.
“We can’t…” he uttered as best as he could with an irreparable hard-on already so close to penetrating Wonpil. He met Wonpil’s eyes, now confused and irate, convinced that they just couldn’t venture any further right now despite Wonpil’s hips protesting otherwise.
“Why not?” Wonpil sulked, slightly bobbing himself up and down and catching Dowoon’s tip with his movements. “You don’t want to fuck me?”
Dowoon’s head short-circuited at the colourful words, but he had enough resilience to bear the brunt of even the most painful of arousals. “We don’t have condoms or lube,” he said through shortened breathing, sinking his nails deeper into the dips of Wonpil’s sides.
“We don’t need them,” Wonpil asserted, promptly kissing Dowoon and licking his way into his mouth as if that could persuade him into his plans. Their bodies still rocked together, it was way too late to backpedal. If Dowoon didn’t end up orgasming in the approaching few minutes, he’d probably implode and die. But he knew he couldn’t go through with it, so he grabbed Wonpil’s jaw with one hand and pulled them apart.
“You need them, Wonpil,” he said with swollen lips, involuntarily bucking his hips upwards. Wonpil arched a brow at Dowoon’s contradictory reactions. It wouldn’t take much longer for him until he’d buckle under the weight of his lust, begging for release, so he had to be quick in assuaging Wonpil somehow.
“What, you’re scared I might be contaminated or something?” Wonpil scoffed, pressing down harder into Dowoon’s groin. He grunted, woozy with pleasure. They were perfectly aligned, one final push from beneath would decidedly bury Dowoon into Wonpil’s puckering heat.
“No, it’s not that,” he heaved out difficultly, voice still hoarse with sleep and darkened with fiery lust. “It’s just-- it’s safer. And it would hurt less.”
“I don’t care about that right now,” Wonpil gritted out, his hands getting tighter anchored on Dowoon’s shoulders with each thrust. “I just want you to fuck my brains out.”
“Ah…” Dowoon moaned, flicking his gaze from Wonpil’s left eye to his right, intently watching his dilated irises. In the midst of his grogginess, an idea sparked within him. He laced his arms securely around Wonpil before flipping them over, spreading his boyfriend across the sheets. “We can use something else,” he whispered, placing a gentle kiss on Wonpil’s lips and slithering down to level himself with his backside.
“Oh… what are you doing?” Wonpil asked, sordidly curious more than out of genuine confusion. Dowoon spat on two of his fingers, enmeshed in the sight of it dripping down lewdly. He’d never expected, let alone seen himself do anything like that before. Carefully, he split Wonpil’s legs to each side, staring at what they revealed to him like the blooming of a flower.
Ignoring the raving erection upright between Wonpil’s thighs, Dowoon slowly sheathed his two fingers in Wonpil, trembling vehemently at the image of them disappearing and thoroughly sucked in. It was raw without lube, and his fingers burnt, but it gave him immense pleasure, the kind that silenced him with total enthrallment.
“Come on Dowoon,” Wonpil urged, peeking from where he was laid prone on the bed. He did not even try to reach out to touch himself, Dowoon noticed. “ Oh ,” he cried out when Dowoon began moving his fingers with a slight curl. “Wait wait wait wait--” he choked out.
“What?” Dowoon dazedly replied, searching through the haze of his lust for what had bothered Wonpil. His elbow teetered on its unsteady balance.
“Dowoon,” he breathed out, red in the cheeks and hair gone astray. “I want to… I want you to record this.”
His surprise managed to snap him almost completely out of his delirium, hastily removing his fingers from Wonpil. Dowoon’s lips were gaping, eyes hooded, brows raised in stupefaction. “You want to… what?” he asked.
Wonpil didn’t hesitate when he repeated, “record this, what you’re doing.”
“Are you sure?” Dowoon asked dumbly, only catching himself when it was too late. He knew Wonpil didn’t need to be educated on the precautions and the possible consequences. He’d known how it turned out the first time with excruciating awareness, he would know what to do the second time. Dowoon was in no position to remind him of any of that. Still, he wasn’t too fond of the idea.
“Yes,” Wonpil nodded, head heavy between his shoulders. “I trust you,” he gave a lopsided smile.
Dowoon stared at him for a moment, sighing to show his dubious consent. At the backhanded approval, Wonpil reached behind his head, and emerging with his hand was Dowoon’s phone. He nudged it at his face, clearly giddy with what was coming. Dowoon took the phone with his unsoiled hand and opened the camera, decidedly caving in to Wonpil’s apparently persistent kink.
Now more self-aware, Dowoon held up the phone and captured the perfect frame of Wonpil’s posterior, impatiently wiggling for insertion. It was as he hit record, perceiving his slick fingers reaching for Wonpil from another lens, that his breathing hitched, engrossed in the prospect of having their intimacy on tape. Maybe he enjoyed it more than he initially thought.
He led his two digits back into Wonpil, meeting hot resistance the deeper he went. He guardedly watched them sink, reappear with a new coat of shine, before sinking back in. Dowoon’s eyes flicked back and forth from the screen of his phone to the reality that unraveled in front of him.
Not a moment later, his thrusts increased in pace, making Wonpil cry out in equal parts agony and pleasure, losing to the all-consuming thrill as he twisted himself left and right. Dowoon still watched without blinking, putting all of his focus on fingering Wonpil, unconsciously grinding against the sheets.
“Ah! Dowoon!” Wonpil cried, whisking his wrist to his mouth so he could bite down on something. “Right there! There!” he choked against his skin.
Dowoon nodded dazedly, captivated. Without warning Wonpil, he slipped in a third finger and angled them in such a way that prompted Wonpil to arch his back and grapple the sheets in his hands. His thighs struggled to stay spread, twitching and trembling. Something else also twitched between his milky legs, but they both took to neglecting it with full intention. Maybe Wonpil was a masochist in bed, and Dowoon a sadist.
“Do you feel good like this?” he asked, splitting his fingers, curling them and pertaining to his frantic thrusts.
“Yes, fuck yes ,” Wonpil hissed, now uncontrollably pushing back onto Dowoon’s fingers as if a noble spirit of lust had possessed him. Extremely content with the response, adrenaline rushed him to dig deeper, concentrating on the same sweet spot he’d found.
Much too conscious of his phone filming them in a primitive trance, Dowoon resisted his moans, letting them battle his throat and die with the violent breaths coming out of his nose. His amateur, unsteady hand struggled to keep the tiny camera on the focal point, whirling in one or another direction before coming back to frame Wonpil’s finger-filled writhing backside.
Heat pooled in his abdomen and between his legs where his arousal still ached for attention. Wonpil, on the other hand, had transcended a higher plane of existence as he kept his back curved away from the bed, thighs shaking mercilessly as he orgasmed on his soft convulsing tummy.
At the sight of Wonpil coming untouched, Dowoon could no longer bear it and dropped the phone somewhere, completely forgetting about it as he gathered himself to his knees between Wonpil’s thighs. He grabbed himself and jerked off the rest of his arousal, making a deep noise within his throat as he spilled white strings all over Wonpil’s stomach. An intense crash of relief blew him away, his strokes now becoming languid.
Finding the camera again, Dowoon switched it off and tossed it out of sight. His eyes landed on Wonpil, drunk-looking and still catching his breath, splayed out like a wrecked ship. Knees far too weak to handle his weight, Dowoon collapsed on Wonpil and used the last of his energy to sloppily kiss the corner of his lips.
When they regained enough strength to clean themselves up, they took to lounging around in Dowoon’s bathroom. Wonpil stood facing the mirror above the sink, wiping the tears at the corner of his eyes and the wet trails across his cheeks with a tissue. Dowoon passively observed him from the toilet seat, how his bony little frame shrank in one of his old shirts. Now that Dowoon thought about it, he’d rarely seen Wonpil outside of their school’s plain sets of uniforms, and he greatly appreciated the change.
“So,” Wonpil spoke up, discarding the tissue in the bin and leaning against the rim of the sink. He crossed his arms and swept his gaze from Dowoon’s sweatpants-clad legs to his face. “Are you going to tell me who Yuri is now?”
He sighed. “What kind of pillowtalk is this?”
“I’ve been waiting,” Wonpil said, raising a brow. “Do you have something to hide?”
There was no place for him to sidestep the confrontation, so Dowoon shifted in his seat and propped his elbow on the toilet tank. “You want me to be blunt?”
“Yeah,” Wonpil weakly answered, discernibly taken aback. What was there to be blunt about, he might be wondering.
“Yuri is my future wife,” he said calmly, holding eye-contact with Wonpil.
“Excuse me?” Wonpil suddenly blurted, face screwed up with disbelief. He uncrossed his arms and anchored them on his waist. “Your future what ?”
“Listen,” Dowoon sighed, running a hand through his hair. He couldn’t bring himself to play with Wonpil’s emotions right now despite his possessive tendencies. “I didn’t agree to this. At least not yet--”
“Not yet?” Wonpil’s eyes widened, anger now beginning to show.
“Hey, let me finish,” Dowoon snapped. Wonpil pressed his lips together, chastised. “There’s something you gotta know first. My parents want me to inherit their business, but I don’t care about it at all. In fact, I’d hate to own it. But they’re so desperate that they’re planning this… this wedding with some girl whether I consent or not. Her parents own a similar business and by wedding us, my parents will be able to expand. You know, all that profit bullshit.”
Wonpil silently nodded, eyes bound to the ground.
“They’ve threatened me before, once,” Dowoon continued. “But I never thought they were going to go as far as bringing the girl over without warning me beforehand. Your first time seeing her was also my first time. I was shocked too, you know.”
“Oh, Dowoon,” Wonpil stepped forward and placed his hands on his shoulders, sliding them up his jaw. They peered into each other's eyes for a moment before Wonpil gathered Dowoon’s head into his embrace. He retaliated by pressing his own hands behind both of Wonpil’s thighs.
“I’m ok,” he chuckled, thumbing the inside of Wonpil’s legs. “They’re not gonna marry us if I just accepted to inherit the business. They’ll let me do whatever I want, date whoever I like, as long as the company is still under our name. I had no reason to care about all that because I was already doing what I wanted. Up until now…” he trailed off, unseeingly gazing at the open door of his bathroom. “Until they thought making me choose between the freedom of my career and the freedom of my future was fair. In this world, it’s really rare to have both.”
“What, what are you going to do then?” Wonpil released his head and crouched down to cross his arms over Dowoon’s lap. From this distance, Dowoon noticed how thick his eyelashes were.
He lowered his eyes and peered out of the door, searching for something beyond the bathroom. Wordlessly, he nodded at a black duffle bag innocuously settled under his desk, not looking as full as Dowoon had made it. Wonpil whipped his head around towards where Dowoon had vaguely indicated, frowning at his inability to conceive what Dowoon meant. He didn’t quite expect Wonpil to understand straight away, of course, and left him to confusedly peruse around.
He knew realisation dawned upon him when his facial features turned lax at once and his eyes hesitantly met Dowoon’s awaiting ones. “The… the bag?”
Dowoon nodded, struggling to elaborate. “When I have enough money.”
Stupefied, Wonpil stiffly stumbled back to a stand, his eyes flickering all over Dowoon’s face as though waiting for him to burst out in an exclamation, telling him he was joking. But he wasn’t.
“So you… you work at that crippled convenience store… because you’re saving money to run away?” Wonpil had always been better at tearing Dowoon’s thoughts straight out of his brain. He shifted his weight to his other leg. “Dowoon, that’s crazy.”
He knew, imagined as much. What did stupid, naive teenagers like themselves know about running away? The inspiration and solutions had yet to strike him, but humans were equipped with their fair share of survival instincts, and Dowoon counted himself to be quite low-maintenance anyway. Both features were sustainable enough for him to lean on while he gathered more money for a comfortable life. At least, he considered himself capable.
“Do you see any other option?” he said, well-aware that there had to be other options, and that his solution was haywire aside from it being egregious.
“I don’t…” Wonpil surprisingly observed, rubbing his hand down Dowoon’s bare back. Birds of similar feathers flocked towards the same logic and solution, it seemed. The ticket to freedom was always to flee to somewhere far away from where their troubles had birthed. Wonpil himself relied on a similar escape. “So you must have been working for a long time.”
“Only started some time last year, but I’ve been working five days a week. I think it’ll be worthwhile, I make enough money for now.” He shouldn’t be, really, but given the number of employees, the division of salary amounted to quite a generous allowance.
“You can’t survive on a stack of money you made from working at some remote convenience store, don’t be crazy,” Wonpil softly reprimanded, frowning down at him. He seemed reluctant, probably in the same way that Dowoon couldn’t quite berate him for his reckless desire to record their sexual activities. It was essentially stupid to point out the obvious, when these were all but impulsively envisaged.
“Wonpil,” Dowoon sighed. “It’s either I get out of here as soon as I graduate, or I marry someone I don’t even know for the sake of my parents’ company. We both know which option sounds better.”
Wonpil nervously bit his lips, unconsciously scratching at Dowoon’s upper back. “At least come with me. Stay at my house, however long you need to. We’ll even go to Jeju together and we can figure it out when we get there. Doesn’t that sound so much better?”
“It’s complicated,” Dowoon shook his head, patting Wonpil’s thighs. Somewhere within, he was flattered just as he was scared that Wonpil wanted to merge their plans. “Your mom would lose her mind.”
“Yeah but…”
Not wanting to continue the conversation, Dowoon lurched to his feet and rounded Wonpil to reach the door of his bathroom. The hands on his back limply fell. He went to his closet and pulled out a black shirt before slipping himself inside it. He turned back to regard Wonpil. The boy was still in the bathroom, idly bunching the hem of Dowoon’s shirt in his hands over his thighs.
Guilt tingled in his stomach. “So, your volleyball competition is coming up,” he said, reclining against the frame of his bathroom door and dipping his hands in his pockets.
“I know,” Wonpil let out a sigh he seemed to have been withholding. “I’m nervous, and you were right. It’s not my passion, I suck at it, but I need to qualify.”
“You can always back away, if it’s too much,” Dowoon said, making a point to glare at Wonpil’s badly bruised knees. His wrists had also started to collect faint traces of bruising. “Maybe six months is not as long as you might think.”
Wonpil walked out of the bathroom, the excess of Dowoon’s shirt billowing by his sides. His arms found Dowoon’s middle and he hugged him tight. Dowoon returned the embrace, sinking his face into Wonpil’s shoulder.
“With the way things are looking right now,” Wonpil’s voice was muffled as he spoke, “it’s just insufferable. I hate this place so much, Dowoon. It’s traumatising. I just want to get out of here. Just… just not without you.”
Dowoon didn’t need to say a word to agree. He simply caressed Wonpil’s back with the softest of touches and closed his eyes, willing the circumstances to bend to fit them for once instead of having them fold under failures upon failures.
--
A week before Wonpil’s upcoming competition, Dowoon sat in the cafeteria with his loyal lunch mate, Taeyung. Nothing fell out of the ordinary. His lunch was still lacking in appeal, he continued to stare off into space, Taeyung opted for stuffing his face with the food that Dowoon didn’t eat, they didn’t speak a word as the sound of chattering buzzed on around them. Their peace was mutual and unbreakable, only until Hyorin and Sungsoo came along, towing with them equally tired faces.
“You forgot this in class,” was Hyorin’s weary fashion of greeting, swinging something dark and hard across the table. It spun towards him, and revealed itself to be his phone when it settled. Dowoon frowned, cursing her for handling his costly objects with such lack of caution. He decided to stay silent about his first world qualms and watched his friends take a seat across him and Taeyung.
“Surprising to see you Woon,” Sungsoo mused tiredly, sticking his hand into his bag to retrieve his lunch. “Haven’t seen you around lately.”
“Hm,” he replied disinterestedly.
Sungsoo paused in his rummaging, briefly fixing him with a pair of raised eyebrows. Dowoon would never understand people’s need for answers or probing when he was exhibiting the perfect social cues of don’t fuck with me right now. On Sungsoo’s left, Hyorin didn’t spare him a glance and peeled the lid of her lunch box. These two never bought from the canteen.
“C’mon man,” Sungsoo laughed. “You disappeared for a while now, aren’t you gonna let us in on who you’re seeing?” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Dowoon did not want to know what exactly he was referring to.
“It’s none of your business,” Dowoon said, inspecting his nails.
“Yikes man, what turned you into this?” Sungsoo chortled with surprise as though Dowoon was acting out of character, finally fetching his lunch box and setting it in front of him. “Where the fuck have you been?”
Dowoon rolled his eyes. “Taeyung is perfectly content with not putting his nose in my business. Why are you and Hyorin so concerned with everything that I do?”
Sungsoo had his chopsticks halfway to his mouth when he dropped it back into his lunch. “Well, why shouldn’t we care?”
“He’s been busy kissing Wonpil’s ass,” Hyorin sharply quipped, glaring straight at Dowoon. Her mouth nibbled at the chopsticks pressed on her lower lip. Dowoon’s stomach fell, but his front betrayed nothing beyond a twitch of the eye as he returned her glower.
“Wait, what?” Taeyung interrupted himself from his feasting and directed his round eyes at Dowoon. He didn’t bother breaking eye-contact with Hyorin to appraise the shock, which was ridiculous to begin with. “You’ve been kissing Wonpil’s ass?”
“As in like, literally?” Sungsoo unnecessarily added.
“You seem to be obsessed with the things that have nothing to do with you,” Dowoon sneered, leaning back into his chair and boring his eyes into Hyorin’s very soul. Her face, marked with twisted gratification, told the possibility of her knowing more than she should.
“And you seem to be obsessed with losing your damn virginity. You think I don’t know that?” she provoked, now fully abandoning her chopsticks beside her lunchbox with a slam. His eyes narrowed at her, gritting his jaw. She scoffed at his indignation. “I mean, resorting to the obscene twink whose first time was at fourteen? Seriously? I knew you were desperate, Dowoon, but I didn’t think you’d stoop this low. Seducing the lowest hanging fruit there is out there.”
“Dowoon’s a virgin?!” Sungsoo shot off his mouth.
“So are you Sungsoo,” Taeyung retorted.
Dowoon didn’t answer, too choked up with furor and even the smallest coil of shame to speak and give emotional justice to his words. He willed his breathing to slow down, trying to stop clenching on his jaw so hard. His hands had turned into fists, trembling in their discolouring. For someone to speak so lowly of Wonpil, Dowoon wanted nothing but to restore their morals with a fist. For someone to expose the one thing he’d lied about on a continuum, he couldn’t care as much when the primary cause of his outrage was burning in the part of his brain responsible for violent impulses.
Hyorin must have mistaken his deep anger for shame. She wore her smirk proudly atop of her smug expression. “That’s right, hurts like a bitch right? Everyone thinks Yoon Dowoon has it steamy in the bedroom because he’s so sexy and hot and has biceps, but in fact, he’s never gotten his dick touched before. What a wuss.”
“Yo bitch,” Taeyung asserted himself. “You’re blowing it out of proportion. Since when is chastity a big thing? Who fucking cares, other than your horny ass? Nobody here wears their rampant sex life like a badge, alright? It’s just you in your own world.”
“Speak for yourself, asshole. Your own virginity must be because of some erectile dysfunction or something. I’m sorry you’re not old enough for Viagra yet, but don’t go lashing out on me,” she snapped, and before Taeyung could respond, she turned to Dowoon with her resentful glare, seeming to derive pleasure from her conversational vanguard. “And you, virgin 1.0, I’ve known from the start why you’ve been sidestepping me. You’re a coward, you’re scared of penetrative sex, and you’re too intimidated by me. You really think I wouldn’t know? I read dastard virgins' language like a book.”
“I’m not surprised a self-centered bitch would think this way,” he quietly ground out, giving his best effort at unclenching his hand. Hyorin made some considerable points -- Dowoon was a coward. He’d ran away from Wonpil, running on flighty inclinations. He hadn’t been able to have proper sex with Wonpil when offered. And truly, it didn’t conflict much with what Hyorin disclosed so far. Nonetheless, all of that had nothing to do with his withdrawal from her advances. He did not want her because he shuddered at the prospect of sex with women.
“Just face it Dowoon,” she hissed at him. “You’re just embarrassed that you’ve never had sex before.”
“You’re free to think whatever you like,” he stretched, although his muscles were spasming with the itch to fight someone. His indifference often pissed people off, and he needed to take advantage of that more than ever. “Just don’t project your egomaniac thoughts on me. You’re just wasting your time, and mine.”
He left his words dangling in the air, but as he had broadcasted, he was just wasting his time being in the presence of those who looked down upon Wonpil, and those who placed a prominent sex drive in high regards. Dowoon walked away from the cafeteria, heaving out the breath that had been constricting his lungs.
--
A day before Wonpil’s volleyball competition, Dowoon laid in bed, sending the last texts of encouragement to Wonpil. Today was the first in a long time where he felt the genuine claws of exhaustion, promising him an uninterrupted night’s sleep. Wonpil had stopped answering him, most likely asleep in his own bed. Contented, Dowoon was about to dump his phone on his bedside table when it blew off uncontrollably.
Taeyung
dowoon, it was you??
man this is actually not funny
it’s bad, dude
hey, dowoon, respond pls
i had to admit it was funny at first but now you’re just pushing it, just sayin
[incoming call from Taeyung]
yo pick up
god
i’d say you’re a total asshole but would that even faze you??
Dowoon ignored it all, blissfully asleep.