Archive of Our Own

“Why couldn’t your dick be smaller?” 

Under normal circumstances, Jake would have no room to complain about dick size. Beggars can’t be choosers, and all that. But he really doesn’t have the time to search for extra large Trojan Magnums right now. 

The convenience store’s entire condom inventory has been cleared from the shelves and scattered across the floor, which also happens to be flooded by emergency sprinklers. As a twenty-year-old man, Jake should be laughing at the sight of condom boxes bobbing down the aisle like rubber ducks, or even making a TikTok, doing a stupid dance in the midst of all the chaos. He should, but this is a serious situation. 

Over the cacophony of panicked employees’ shouts, water pounding against snack wrappers and lapping at Jake’s Vans, and a fire alarm shrieking overhead in frequent, short bursts, he can hardly hear his soon-to-be hookup say, “I’m sorry? We can go to a different—”

“No time,” Jake interrupts grimly, with water cascading down his face in dramatic rivulets.

He almost shouts with relief when he spots a black box with obnoxious golden text across the front, then hurries to grab it before it can float away and nearly bangs his forehead on a shelf as his soles slip against the tile. “Come on,” he urges, grabbing the man by his soaking wet Thrasher hoodie to drag him along, ignoring his sputtered protests and struggle for proper traction. There’s no time for transactions, either, so he slaps a soggy ten dollar bill onto the front counter and books it out of the store. 

The crisp, late-winter air stings his face. He shivers at the cold water that’s sluicing down his neck and further soaking the collar of his shirt, and shovels his bangs out of his face to stop them from dripping onto his cheeks. His feet have a mind of their own, shooting him down the sidewalk with hurried strides. 

“Hey, wait up. The wind is cold!” His steakhead of a hookup falls into step beside him, breathing clouds of mist that catch the yellow-orange streetlights as sinister smoke. “Are you that eager to get on my dick?” The effort to sound sexy is swamped with heavy breathing and the nasally beginnings of a head cold. 

They just came from one of the lamest house parties known to man. The first problem was the army of White Claws in the fridge. The second was the lack of a reliable Communal Condom Bowl. Jay’s frat has one that Jay refills regularly, present at each party. But apparently not everyone cares about safe sex practices. Hence Jake having to rush to the nearest convenience store. His top priority is avoiding HIV. 

He had only stayed at the party for twenty minutes, then plucked this beefy guy from the inebriated crowd based on looks alone, determined to get laid, just once. He’d even be fine with just a blowie, maybe a handy. Anything. Please, God. He doesn’t mind seeming desperate at this point because, well, he’s desperate. 

“Yeah,” Jake pants. He’s already ripping the box open, like it’s a package of Honey Buns and he hasn’t eaten in years, and fishing a condom out. He opens the wrapper with his teeth—not the best idea, but desperate times call for desperate measures—and lets it flutter to the ground. They just have to get to the parking garage a couple of buildings down. It’s so close. “Wanna fuck in your car?” 

“Shit, I’m down.” 

“Great!” Jake smiles wide, possibly looking maniacal when he turns his head. 

That’s when the headlights of an approaching car cast a harsh white across the sidewalk. His heart drops. “Uh-oh.”

He hears the heavy thud before he can pull the man aside, hears the sickening crunch before he can look away. Blood is jarringly hot splattered across his cold cheek, disgustingly warm bleeding into his already wet shirt. 

Fuck… The man he was about to fuck just got hit by a fucking car. Fuck! 

He sighs and throws the condoms to the ground in frustration, watching dull golden wrappers skitter across the puddle of fresh blood by his feet. 

He’s never getting laid.

✧

Sunghoon calls it perpetual bitchless-ness, but to Jake, it’s a curse. The curse of life without another's touch, of dying alone, of keeping his dick dry for eternity. There might as well be cobwebs in his boxer briefs. His dick is pretty much a cryptid.

Every time he tries to have sex, and he’s not even exaggerating, something goes horribly wrong. 

Like the time his tinder date fell off the mall escalator and broke three different bones; careened over the banister as if someone had grabbed his ankles and yanked them into the air, flipped him like a goddamn pancake. Or when Jake’s bladder somehow failed on him in the middle of a frat party; he’d only had a screwdriver and a few gulps of tap water straight from the kitchen sink that night— it didn’t make sense. Or when all of Choi Soobin’s pet rats got loose in the dorms and one of them ended up getting nice and cozy on Jake’s bed; Jake thinks Soobin’s rats are adorable, but his dick appointment did not. 

There are plenty more examples, but this is only the second time his vicious curse of celibacy has killed a man. He doesn’t know if he feels worse for the dead guy or for himself, honestly. He’s never claimed to have perfect morals. 

“Is the loss of my virginity so much to ask for?” Jake pouts at the watered-down blood soaked into his shirt, blotting uselessly at it with a wad of Wendy’s napkins from the glovebox. 

It took an annoyingly long time to get interrogated by the police and write a witness statement, so the stains have fully settled a dark red into the cotton. It’s a good thing he doesn’t even listen to whatever band is repped on this shirt. Metallica? He can’t name a single song aside from Master Of Puppets.

Sunghoon spares his focus on the road to give Jake an unimpressed look, channeling his inner middle-aged dad. “You just saw a man die. His blood is literally all over you. Is— is that a piece of his skull? And you’re worried about your sex life right now?” 

“Well, yeah.” Jake raises an eyebrow, like, duh, and shoves the soiled napkins into a cup holder filled with sticky loose change. It’s a good thing, to Jake, that Sunghoon’s Mercedes Benz is a little gross. It means he can get comfortable and put his feet up on the seat, tucking a knee under his chin. He picks absentmindedly at the colorful plastic beads around his ankle and furrows his eyebrows at Sunghoon’s sharp profile. “I didn’t even know that guy’s name.” 

“You’re a psychopath,” Sunghoon says. He means it lightheartedly, with all the love in the world, but it’s probably true. Jake only feels naggingly empty and a little bit horny as always, and maybe a few tears could be forced if he really thought about it. There’s no point in that, though, especially not here and now. Sunghoon gets him. “And sex is overrated. Really.” 

Jake groans and throws his head back against the seat. It’s leather, slippery and cold and uncomfortable. All he ever gets is punishment for being human. “Bullshit, especially coming from you. You’ve already fucked like half of the pre-meds on campus.” 

Sunghoon scoffs. “I have sex to fill the void. You know, I only—”

“Stop, stop,” Jake holds his palm out, scrunching his nose in disgust, “I don’t want to hear about your void being filled.” 

“No, that’s not what I— I top!”

✧

In high school, Jake didn’t worry about losing his virginity, or even dating. He was focused on grades, extracurriculars, and having fun with his friends. He was untouchable. Literally.

And uninterested in catching someone’s genital crabs. They were going around his school like the common cold at one point. The principal had to call an assembly over it. 

Anyway, he wasn’t a prude, okay. Nor was he an involuntary celibate. He just hadn’t had a proper sexual awakening yet. Not until after high school graduation, class of 2020. 

He and his friends worked together as counselors at Riverfield, a summer camp hidden beyond miles of mossy live oaks and sprawling ferns, its fifty-year-old cabins rimming a lake the size of a football field. 

They’d treated it as their own Las Vegas. There was a map of stars in the sky instead of fizzling light shows and shimmering signage, and Choi Yeonjun from the volleyball team wearing crop tops instead of showgirls in skimpy costumes, but the premise remained. What happened at Camp Riverfield, stayed at Camp Riverfield.

That summer was muggy and itchy. It was spent passing flasks around a stuffy cabin with a rickety window unit, goofing around by the lake where mosquitoes feasted on Jake’s legs, and herding kids through hiking trails and fighting off low-hanging branches. When he thinks of it, he can still smell the mixture of sweat, sunscreen, and mosquito repellant on his skin, and can still feel the sticky warmth of the air like it was embedded into his pores. From the moment he wriggled into the back-backseat of Jay’s mom’s Land Rover Discovery, to his early departure in the backseat of a squad car, Jake can play it all back like a reel of film spinning in his brain. 

They were rowdy on the three hour journey to camp, devouring the forty-pack of mini Rice Krispy Treats Jake’s mom had bought and randomly breaking into chants about dicks. The windows were rolled down and the wind was yanking at their hair as Jay barreled eighty-five miles per hour down the interstate. 

In the passenger seat was Sunoo, smiling and laughing until he started to complain that his cheeks hurt. Cotton-candy pink fringe spilled from a backwards Seahawks cap he’d fished from Jay’s luggage. Pink suited him well. It was his color; strawberry popsicles sticky on his lips, flushed cheeks when he got passionate, which he did often, a brightness that soothed rather than made you tired. Sunoo has been nothing but sweet—if we aren’t counting his glorious moments of brazen sass—since the day he helped a sniffling eight-year-old Jake find his missing Nintendo DS. 

In the row of seats in front of Jake was Sunghoon, feet propped up on Jay’s Supreme duffel bag and blue light from his phone reflecting off his face for most of the ride. He still looked like a prince, somehow, even with his hair whipping into his eyes and his posture slouched against the door. That was just Sunghoon. Elegant in everything he did. He was trained that way, pushed into figure skating lessons and piano lessons and etiquette classes and rugby, tennis, polo practice from an early age. His parents were old-money and thought they were royalty. They owned libraries and museums and shit. 

Sunghoon wasn’t as icy and intimidating as he seemed, though. It was by chance that he’d been put next to Jake in seventh-grade biology, but he was the one who invited Jake to a stupid hoity-toity poolside cookout at the country club, where they managed to sneak a joyride on one of the golf carts, Jake’s lemonade splashing into their laps as Sunghoon whipped around trees and nearly drove them into a retention pond. They’ve been best friends since.

In the driver’s seat was Jay, wearing sunglasses the entire drive even though they weren’t facing the sun. He acted older than he was, but in a cool, mellow way, silently picking messes up after his friends, dubbing himself their rich uncle and chauffeur, bringing them shiny serving trays of garnished hard lemonades when they came over to his condo. It was all effortless for him. He wore weird shit sometimes but even then, he managed to look better than a majority of the student body. Jake had envied him for a while, but eventually Sunghoon integrated him into their lives and Jake understood exactly why everyone loved him so much. 

As the Land Rover’s tires began to grind against a thinning layer of limestone gravel and Jay rolled into the parking lot, the four of them vowed to make it a summer to brag about. And to not get herpes or syphilis. Jay had three different boxes of condoms in his suitcase. Flavored, ribbed, ultra thin. 

“Thank me later,” Jay said, wiggling his eyebrows above his sunglasses, folding his arms behind his head and sinking into a manspread. Styrofoam beans shifted against the nylon underneath him, and it looked like the bean bag chair was about to pop.

They were the first counselors to arrive, so they got first dibs on choosing from the eight beds in counselor cabin one. 

It wasn’t bad for an old cabin in the woods. The windows needed a good power wash and there were weeds growing up the sides, but inside, there was a colorful geometric rug and a shiny, humming mini fridge beside a well-kept desk, fairy lights strung above a cork board cluttered with photos of past campers and counselors, rules, flyers, and a map of the camp. It smelled like lavender Fabuloso and old books. 

Sunghoon had been rifling around in Jay’s suitcase, undoing the effort of neatly folded and stacked clothes, naturally. He laughed at Jay’s choice of bubblegum flavor and tossed the obnoxiously pink box into Jake’s hands before digging out the ribbed ones. 

“And what if there aren’t any hot counselors?” Sunoo asked, peeking over the edge of his chosen top bunk with his socked feet kicking in the air. It was the one above Sunghoon’s bed, for mischief purposes. Dusty rays of sun outlined his figure and casted a halo along the edges of his hair, warming the pink to a peachier hue. 

“I’d go home.” Sunghoon snorted as he watched a strip of metallic yellow wrappers unfold toward the floor. 

Jay shrugged. A slow, threatening smirk cracked over his face that meant he was about to say something annoying or weird. “Come on. That’s what homies are for. A little shlurp shlurp wouldn’t hurt.” 

“Respectfully,” Jake said, “I’d rather eat bricks and shit them out.”

An empty condom box smacked right into Jay’s crotch, and Sunghoon was the grinning culprit, with a condom strip wrapped around his neck like a scarf. 

“Oh, you fucker!”

Before the four could devolve into further chaos, there was a kind knock on the door. They had mere seconds to hide the incriminating objects, tittering under their breaths and rushing to throw everything at Sunoo, who scrambled to shove it all underneath his pillow and comforter as Jay said, “come in!” 

The door creaked on its hinges and slid open, spitting a sickeningly excited camp director and three far-less-excited counselors into the room. She was feeding them the same script she’d fed Jake and his friends earlier, borderline shouting about orientation at two and getting settled and camp spirit. Sunoo was still laughing into his mattress, and Sunghoon was whispering through his own giggles for him to shut up. 

The director left with a twirl out the door and of the three young men she deposited, Jake only recognized Kang Taehyun, who’d sat next to him in chemistry for a month. He was already catching up with Jay. 

One of the unfamiliar faces breezed past Jake without a word and headed straight for a bunk in the corner of the room, facing away from everyone as they began to unpack.

And the third person, sauntering in like he owned the entire camp… 

He was Jake’s sexual awakening. 

At least six feet of effortless charm under a head of messy black waves, with big, round eyes that could gaze straight into Jake’s soul and a smile full of big, perfectly white teeth that could tear Jake’s heart up from the inside out. He was wearing a black shirt with the sleeves cut off, and three different necklaces, and seven different bracelets. His presence filled the room and he hadn’t even said anything yet. 

Jake was practically vibrating when the guy first approached him and nodded up at the bed above his own. Jewelry played with light up and down the shells of his ears, which stuck out cutely from his hair. “Mind if I occupy this?” 

“Oh. Go ahead.” Jake’s voice was overly sweet and sounded stupid. God, he was shorting out and this hot guy was lifting his duffel bag with one arm, lean muscles rippling and all Jake could smell was the sharp, clean scent of Old Spice. 

“Heeseung,” the guy said, extending a hand toward Jake. There was a gentle smirk tucked into the corner of his lips, which were splotched bright red where dry skin must’ve been peeled. But they were shiny and full of color and would probably taste amazing—

It took Jake a second or two to realize that was an introduction, what Heeseung was doing. “Jake.” He smiled, but it was probably awkward, too much teeth and lips stuttering open like broken garage doors. He shook Heeseung’s hand for a little too long, noting how his skin was insanely hot and a little sweaty, and his palm was broad, his fingers thick and long.

Arousal had never flooded so quickly into Jake’s gut. 

“Be right back,” Heeseung said, backing away toward the attached bathroom. “I gotta piss.” And that utterance didn’t make him any less attractive. 

Jake’s suddenly boy-crazy mind could only supply him with the lamest response possible: “don’t fall in.” He wondered if he should wipe his mouth, if he was actually drooling and looked as dumb as he felt.

Heeseung lingered in the doorway, regarding Jake with an up-and-down sweep. “No promises. I’m pretty clumsy… Wanna come hold my hand?” 

Jake tried to disguise his awkward choking sound as a laugh. 

“Just kidding,” Heeseung lilted. His voice was gentle and silky, like soft spring leaves brushing together in the wind. 

When Heeseung shut the door, Sunoo launched a condom—bubblegum flavored—at Jake, with a suggestive quirk to one of his eyebrows.

Sunghoon was backing him up with a variety of obscene gestures. 

“I’m gonna kill you both,” Jake grumbled. 

✧

Lack of cell service and frequent insect encounters aside, Camp Riverfield was a nice place to work. 

The nature was refreshing since Jake was used to the city. He didn’t know what true silence even sounded like before spending a night alone by the lake, with his feet wading through crystal-clear water and silver moonlight shimmering over calm waves. 

The air was noticeably cleaner, so the skies, from soft wisps of pink rolling over gradients of lavender and orange to blankets of pure midnight pinpricked through with endless twinkling stars, were far easier to appreciate there. It made him wish, for a second, that he was a painter. His phone camera just couldn’t capture it the way a talented hand might’ve. 

And it was a plus that heat and humidity worked wonders for his skin. 

The camp facilities weren’t bad, either. The nicest building was a two-story hub that looked like a big ski lodge. It contained the cafeteria, which was massive, but the lighting was warm and welcoming, pillars of jagged, gray veneer stones climbed up the walls, and a skylight stretched along the slanted edge of the ceiling. There was also a staff lounge with vending machines, a ballroom venue they weren’t allowed access to, and the directors’ offices. 

As for the bathroom situation… Jake discovered that he hated communal showers that summer. Gotta take the wins with the losses. 

But what really made it memorable was the people. His best friends, of course, who were multitudes more unhinged than usual in the absence of internet service. And the kids who were actually less intolerable than he’d expected; most were surprisingly hilarious, some were sweet and precious. It was nice to feel like a big brother they all looked up to. 

Then there was Heeseung. The love interest. Straight from a teen drama. He sparkled around the edges and rose petals fluttered from thin air when he walked by— in Jake’s eyes, at least. 

In hindsight he was just some guy, who flirted with everyone, rarely combed his hair, and always asked for Jake’s gum instead of getting his own. But whatever. Jake was tragically into it. 

There was a powdery pink, glittering vignette bordering all his memories of Heeseung, flowers blooming in the corners like the scenes were polaroid pictures trapped in a teenager’s scrapbook. 

The moments went something like this: 

A pair of big hands curled over Jake’s shoulders, and warmth pressed into his back as Heeseung leaned over to watch him help a camper find all of the sparkliest beads for her bracelet. It was a craft day. They were all making jewelry or, in Jay and Sunghoon’s cases, throwing beads back and forth with the rowdier kids. 

Jake chewed on his lower lip as Heeseung squeezed his shoulders. A bead slipped through his fingers and skipped across the table until it bounced off the edge. 

“Oops, sorry,” he said, and the girl shrugged. 

“It’s okay.” She scooped the pile of beads they’d collected into her tiny hands, ignoring the ones that escaped and pattered across the table in different directions. “That one was ugly, anyway. I’m gonna go share these with my friend. He’s too emo today.” 

Jake laughed, “okay, okay. No running!”

She was soon across the room, dumping the beads next to her friend, and Heeseung’s chuckle was vibrating against Jake’s back. 

“You’re good with kids,” Heeseung said, pulling out a cheap plastic chair beside Jake and sitting, backwards, of course. His hair was falling into his eyes and a cross earring was swinging beside his jaw. “You’d make a good mommy.” 

Jake sputtered, hitting Heeseung’s upper arm in the pick-me-est manner possible. It was firm, and he wanted to bite into it to see how the skin would give under his teeth.

“What?” Heeseung grinned wide. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Jake.” 

“You’re a menace,” Jake groaned. 

Heeseung laughed, then he held his arm out, angling his wrist so Jake could see the bracelet he made. It was nestled between the other bracelets—a rubber wristband decorated with an unfamiliar band name, a friendship bracelet fraying at the edges, a thin leather cuff, and a plain hairtie—he wore, made of purple and yellow plastic, and four letter beads that spelled the word anal.

Jake hurried to hide it, covering Heeseung’s wrist with his palm and burning up once he realized what he was doing. He dropped Heeseung’s arm. He felt like his cheeks were about to start bubbling and melt off of his face. “Oh my God. You’re so— you need to be put on a leash or— don’t make that face!” 

The mentioned face was a saucy smirk with a raised eyebrow that nearly vaporized Jake’s pants. Heeseung dropped it so quickly that it gave Jake whiplash, then snickered and dug around in his pocket before pulling out another bracelet. “I wanna see how long it takes for the directors to notice. Here,” he held it in the air, displaying another four-letter word, slut, “wear this.” 

Jake pushed his chin back into his neck, eyeing the object like it was a living, crawling roach. “No way.” 

“Come on, it’ll be funny. I made it just for you.” 

Jake didn’t believe that, but he was a sucker and the sentence along with the alluring glint in Heeseung’s eyes—it was like he could control the way light played with his pupils—were enough to convince him to comply. “Fine, but I’m wearing it on my ankle.” 

✧

The anklet has survived a year and a half. Well, it’s still on Jake’s ankle, at least. The black paint that was held in the grooves of the letters is gone, and the elastic has gotten looser. Now it slips up and down his ankle instead of staying put and digging bead-shaped divots into his skin. 

There’s something that feels deeply wrong, like tar sinking into the pit of his stomach and ants crawling in the marrow of his bones, every time he wonders if he should take it off. When Sunghoon had mentioned it, Jake was hunched over the toilet in a cold sweat for an hour, and now no one talks about it anymore. No one even talks about camp. Or anything summer-camp-adjacent. And Jake wishes he could be stronger so his friends wouldn’t feel like they had to walk on eggshells around him, but he can’t control it. 

He thinks he’s losing control of a lot of things these days. 

Mostly his dick. 

Which would be just fine if he could get fucking laid already. If he didn’t have to touch himself every night just to feel satisfied for a few seconds then immediately, entirely empty. If he didn’t have a pimple forming on the side of his nose because of the sugar he’s consumed in a futile attempt to fill the void, as Sunghoon says. 

“You’ll always have us,” Jay assures, reaching across the laminated red table and squishing Jake’s cheeks until his lips puff out. “We’ll take care of you when you’re old and still can’t get a boyfriend.” 

Sunoo wraps his arms around Jake’s middle and squeezes, making obnoxious kissy sounds next to his ear. “We’ll be your boyfriends.” 

“Wow. That makes me feel so much better.” Jake’s sarcasm is dripping into his breakfast plate. 

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, poking at his syrup-swamped waffle with a butter knife. “He’ll get a boyfriend eventually. Curses aren’t even real. He just has bad luck.” 

Jake scoffs. “I beg to differ.” 

Come on, Jake is the one living through this. Can’t his best friend see that he’s suffering? 

It’s so bad that even Sunoo’s breath against his neck is getting to him and he has to push him away before he gets a boner because of his friend, one of his best friends who he’d once had to help go pee because he was so drunk, who he’d seen cry over an Ice Age movie. 

This isn’t normal. 

Jake is in heat or something. 

And his sense of smell is all out of whack. He’s in a greasy diner with bacon sizzling just behind the counter, yet all he can smell is… 

Lake water and Old Spice. 

✧

“It’s not that easy,” Jake complained, sweeping the crumbs from his Nature Valley bar off of his lap and crumpling the wrapper in his fist. 

They’d been working at Riverfield for three weeks, and the weather was only getting hotter and muggier; everyone wore shorts now. Even Jay, who’d claimed shorts made him look too much like a tasteless rich boy paired with his nice shirts. 

Jay rolled his eyes, absently scraping his straw around the stainless steel lip of his water bottle. There was always iced tea, lemon juice, and a splash of vodka in it. “It is though.”

“Seriously,” Sunghoon said. He was sitting on the picnic table, messing around with Sunoo’s frizzy pink hair while Sunoo read some cheesy book about a summer romance. “Just ask Heeseung to fuck you, dude. How much more obvious could it be that he’s into you?” 

“Not so loud,” Jake whined, throwing his trash at Sunghoon and making crumbs fall into the spine of Sunoo’s book. “You’re just enabling my delusional fantasies because you’re my friends. He isn’t into me.” 

Sunoo huffed, doggy-earing the page he was on and shutting his book with enough force to make his bangs fly out of his face. “Okay, but he’s been flirting with you like crazy. In front of everyone’s goddamn salad.” 

“Stop it. He flirts with everyone like that.” 

“But he doesn’t eye-fuck everyone like that.” Sunghoon scrunched his nose up. “He looks at you like he wants to ram his dick into your face and—”

“Ugh, Sunghoon!” 

His friends could have been right. Heeseung did look at Jake with enough intensity to make his knees shake, but he thought he just looked at everyone like that, that his gaze was just naturally penetrating and nerve-wracking. 

It wouldn’t have made sense, though, that out of everyone at camp, he wanted Jake. 

Jake wasn’t exactly a loser and he definitely wasn’t unattractive. He was cute. A lot of people had crushes on him and he had far too many prom date candidates. But he was awkward, boring, and always blurted out nonsense. He got flustered easily. 

Heeseung was the opposite. He was cool about absolutely everything. Even when he tripped up the deteriorating front steps of the cabin, it didn’t seem clumsy. Even when he said something stupid, he laughed it off and it suddenly wasn’t so stupid anymore. Everyone gravitated toward him like moths to a porchlight. 

Heeseung was everything Jake wanted, but he was an unattainable fantasy. 

✧

Okay, maybe Jake didn’t hate communal showers that much. Not when he got to see Heeseung at the sinks with a towel around his waist, moisture glowing on his skin, and the muscles in his arm flexing as he brushed his teeth. He was just toned enough for very subtle abs to run down his soft torso, and for muscle to define his pecs. His towel was resting dangerously low on his hips. 

Jake was going through the motions of his nightly skincare regimen—cleanser, serums, and moisturizer prescribed by Sunoo himself—and he wasn’t confident enough to leave his shower stall in nothing but a towel, but at least he was wearing short-shorts under his oversized tee. He was confident enough to press up on his toes, leaning into the counter so Heeseung could see a sliver of his thighs in the mirror. 

Even on the tips of his toes, Jake was noticeably shorter than Heeseung. 

That was already enough to turn him on. But Heeseung just had to make eye-contact with Jake as he bent forward and spat into the sink, letting his white, foamy saliva gush over his lower lip and drip down his chin. Instead of wiping it off like a normal person, he licked it up and reeled it back into his mouth just to spit it out again. Then he smiled, and Jake’s own reflection in the mirror was glowing red along the cheeks. All he could smell was the spearmint from Heeseung’s toothpaste. He could taste it in the back of his throat. It made his eyes water. 

“Nice shorts, babe,” Heeseung whispered, raking his eyes down Jake’s body before slipping away to get dressed. 

Jake dropped his moisturizer in the sink with a clatter that made everyone in the room look at him. The cream splattered up to the mirror like he’d just had an orgasm, and, yeah. That was fitting. 

✧

“You’re seriously a virgin?” Heeseung asked. He was wringing a rag out into a bucket, and Jake couldn’t look away from the flexing tendons in his hands and the soapy water dripping down to his elbow, soaking into his bunched-up sleeve.

Why did he have to be on cafeteria cleaning duty the same day as Jake? Taehyun was cleaning too, but he had his headphones on, blaring with something bubbly and upbeat that didn’t at all match his expression. So, Jake and Heeseung might as well have been alone. 

The timing was unfortunate. They’d just played a drinking game with their cabin mates the previous night, where Jake ended up confessing that he’d never done anything sexual. No intercourse. No head. No handjobs. For some reason, Heeseung couldn’t seem to let go of the fact. He wasn’t usually that curious about people’s personal lives; he got bored when group conversations shifted into gossip. But Jake’s lack of a sex life was apparently riveting to him. 

And the way Heeseung looked wasn’t helping. He was wearing a big Camp Riverfield sweatshirt that made him look soft and huggable, made Jake want to hold him and squish his face into his chest. It was paired with denim cutoff shorts, but he made it work, just like his collection of mismatched jewelry. He always wore a necklace of alternating shells and colorful beads, a leather wire with a shark tooth hanging from it, and a delicate gold chain that dangled whenever he leant over the edge of his bunk to bother Jake at night. His hair had gotten super fluffy from camp activities and the wind on the lake, curling up around his ears. It took everything within Jake not to pounce on him right there. 

Jake huffed and stretched to reach a dried splatter of ketchup, shaking the whole table with the aggression of his scrubbing. “Why are you so fixated on my virginity?” 

“Because,” Heeseung started, playfully flicking water in Jake’s direction and letting his eyes travel lazily down the line of Jake’s body, “like, there’s seriously nothing wrong with being a virgin, but I just don’t get it.” 

“Don’t get what?” 

Heeseung’s eyes make their way back to Jake’s face. “You’re so hot. I can’t believe no one has begged to fuck you.” 

Jake’s hand paused mid-scrub. He almost whimpered at the warm arousal pooling between his legs. Heeseung thought he was hot. “I— you— really?” That was all he could stutter out. 

“Oh my God, yes, really.” Heeseung laughed. “How about this…” 

He leaned across the table, giving Jake no choice but to look at his grinning face, his lips which had healed from the moisture in the air and were now healthy and pink. It was frustrating that he didn’t have a skincare routine like Jake, yet his skin looked soft and even, like the sun saw to it personally that Heeseung’s face looked like it was dipped in honey and holy water. He only had one freckle beside the tip of his nose, where Jake had a smattering of them across his nose and both cheeks, reddened skin peeling from when he’d gotten a sunburn. 

It wasn’t fair. Heeseung was perfect, for a nineteen-year-old man, at least. 

Spending time with him made Jake feel dumb and small and out of his element, yet he couldn’t help but like it. He liked how nervous he was. He liked how new it felt. He liked Heeseung’s attention. It was addicting. 

“You’re gonna get laid,” Heeseung promised. “And I’ll help you.” 

Jake bit his tongue to stop from squeaking at the sound of that. His legs felt weak. 

Heeseung stared into his eyes, deep and dark and tender. “Let’s meet by the lake at midnight, okay?” 

✧

Jake was freaking out. He didn’t know what Heeseung was planning to do by the lake.

Was he gonna draw up a game plan to get Jake on someone’s dick? Was he gonna give Jake his dick? Fuck. Was it a joke? Was the punchline Jake getting pushed into the water? The last one seemed the most realistic, honestly. Pessimism never served Jake wrong. 

He would’ve asked questions at the time, but all he could do was agree. Yes. Midnight. Sharp. His mind was flooded with images immediately after hearing the offer; Heeseung grabbing at his body with his big hands and kissing him dizzy with his pretty pink lips, clothes flying onto the dock, Heeseung’s face between his legs and big eyes sparking in the moonlight. He couldn’t shoo the thoughts away quickly enough to question what was happening. 

At least Sunghoon found Jake’s nervous pacing hilarious, giggling around mouthfuls of chips as if Jake’s suffering was a sitcom.

“Dude.” Jay held Jake still by the shoulders. “It’s just sex.” He slipped a small bottle and a condom into Jake’s back pocket and patted it. “You’ll be fine.”

“What if I come really fast?” Jake blurted out. He was more worried that Heeseung would just push him into the lake and leave him soaked, humiliated, and taking the wrong walk of shame back to the cabin.

Jay shrugged. “I dunno, never talk to him again or something. Now, it’s midnight and you’re gonna be late. Go, go.” He steered Jake to the door like his shoulders were handlebars, and off Jake went. 

Even so late into the night, heat was trapped in the air, clinging to Jake’s skin and making his clothes feel restrictive. It didn’t help that he was sweating so bad he could feel a bead of it rolling down his side. 

He walked slowly along the dirt path to the lake, fanning his shirt against his chest. It was past midnight, but he would’ve looked like a dork if he showed up on time, right? Maybe he was stalling, overwhelmed by the way his heart pounded against his rib cage. 

He didn’t want to disappoint Heeseung, though. That was the last thing he wanted to do. So, he forced his shaking legs to take him to the lake. 

When the trees thinned out and Jake could clearly see silver bouncing off the water, his heart felt like it was getting squeezed by a big, merciless hand. Heeseung wasn’t there. 

He almost turned back around out of embarrassment— he should have. He would have, if he didn’t remember that Heeseung was just a nineteen-year-old who slept through his alarms and got fired from Spencer’s for being late all the time. Yeah, it was a possibility he lost track of time or was simply too cool to be on time for anything. Jake prayed Heeseung wouldn’t have stood him up, but, honestly, the reality was way worse than that. 

Jake released a long breath, wringing the hem of his shirt nervously as he approached the lake. The rickety old dock sliced through the silence of the night, boards creaking and groaning under his sneakers. 

He noticed that one of the boards had finally croaked, the way his friends betted it would. The one on the end, the one that shouldered the most abuse from people springing off of it and leaping into the water over the years. It was snapped in half and splintery shreds of wood curled into the air like claws. 

He stepped carefully to avoid causing more damage, and was leaning over the edge of the dock, looking into the water, when he saw it. 

One of Heeseung’s sneakers. It was floating on top of the water, bumping into one of the dock’s pilings. 

He gulped and bent into a squat to pick it up, gaze darting around the lake, which seemed like it was growing blacker and deeper by the second, threatening to swallow him whole. It felt like there were insects crawling in his shoes. “Heeseung,” he called out, startled by the way his own voice cut through the suddenly stale air. “If this is a joke or something, it isn’t funny.” 

His breath caught in his throat when he found moonlight under the surface, blinking in a blue-silver— like jewelry. A small cross. He began to make out the form it was coming from, an inky mass of something darker than the water. Hair. 

He reached for it without thinking and ice shot through his veins. His fingers tangled into a head of hair, dragged over a cold scalp, plucked at a necklace of shells, clenched around a handful of fabric. 

He was on autopilot at that point. Adrenaline had taken over. There was no cell service— he couldn’t call for help. He had to get Heeseung out immediately. 

With tears blurring his eyes and his throat so tight he could hardly breathe, he tugged Heeseung closer to the surface, hooked his arms under his shoulders, and threw his body weight back to rip Heeseung from the water, nearly breaking his tailbone against the harsh dock. 

He remembers every horrible detail. Heeseung’s lifeless weight on top of him, wind blowing off the lake and ripping through his bones as water soaked into his clothes, the horrible stillness of Heeseung’s body when Jake flipped him over and administered the CPR he’d learned in counselor training. Heeseung still looked prettier than anything Jake had ever seen. His skin was pale and his nappy hair stuck to the edges of his face like weeds, but he was still fucking gorgeous. 

And Jake was sobbing, begging, “please, Heeseung. Please, please. Heeseung— you can’t— you can’t die!” His knees were raw and bleeding where they pressed into splintery wood, and his fingers were cramping, but he didn’t care. 

It felt like it had been hours and Heeseung wasn’t coughing up the water that pooled between his colorless lips, dripping down the sides of his face. He wasn’t coming to life, his dark lashes weren’t fluttering, his pretty eyes weren’t opening. His hair was already drying to his skin. It was too late. 

He was dead. 

✧

A year and a half later, Jake still can’t get a grip. 

“Are you okay?” Sunghoon asks, the tips of his fingers paused atop the keys of his MacBook. 

Jake, frankly, isn’t okay. He’s reread the same page of his World History textbook ten times and nothing is sticking; the printed text is just there, mocking him and making him feel brainless. 

And he’s hiding a raging boner under Sunghoon’s coffee table, which has six empty Honey Bun wrappers scattered over it. All Jake’s. 

He just jacked off before coming here, his whole body is tired, and he can’t stop smelling Heeseung’s deodorant no matter how much Marc Jacobs perfume he douses himself in or how many sweets he buries his face in. And it’s not like he can find out if sex would make him feel better since he’s inexplicably cursed. He’s not okay. 

“Seriously, dude.” Jay leans over him and starts picking the sticky wrappers up. “You can talk to us.”  

Tears well up in Jake’s eyes. How is he supposed to tell his friends any of this? He’s moody and everything feels wrong, his dick is so hard, and his stomach is hurting from the sweets on top of it all. “I’m so horny!” he sobs. A hot tear rolls down his cheek, splattering onto the waxy paper of his textbook. 

Sunghoon does a shitty job at hiding a laugh behind his palm. Fine, whatever. Jake’s outburst was kind of funny. 

“Oh…” Jay raises his eyebrows. “You can beat your dick in my bathroom if you want?” 

Jake sniffles, shaking his head no.

“Want a blowjob?” Sunghoon asks, dead serious. 

Jake’s eyes widen. “God, no. What if you get hit by a car like that one guy?” 

“We’re on the third floor, though.” 

Jake frowns. “You get the point.” 

“Well,” Jay sighs. “Want me to make you snickerdoodles?” 

Jake’s stomach roils, and he’ll probably throw up later, but Jay’s baking is really good and he loves getting spoiled. “Yes, please.” He pouts, wiping at his tears with his sleeves. 

✧

Later that night, Jake inevitably ends up on his stomach, rutting pathetically into his mattress because he’s so exhausted he can hardly move his arms. 

His cock is sticky with precum and throbbing against his abdomen. Every inch of his body is itching with desperation and slicked over with uncomfortably tepid sweat. Humping the bed like this isn’t enough. 

He whines in frustration, burying his face in his pillow and slipping a hand between his legs so he can stroke himself off. There’s no finesse in the way he does it; he just wants to get this over with and cum so he can cry himself to sleep. His hand is quick and tight, hips thrusting erratically, and his breath grows ragged as pleasure squirms through his body. 

It seems to be going fine, as fine as being unbearably horny can go, until the air gets heavy and feels wet, like gallons of water pressing down on him. He gasps and clutches at his pillow but he can’t stop. Everything is flooding back. Phantom mosquito bites erupt over his skin, his pillow smells so strongly of sunscreen that his nose hurts, and Heeseung’s striking smile appears under his closed eyelids. It’s so wrong. He can’t control himself, bucking wildly into his own fist and sobbing because he feels so disgusting when he imagines himself sinking onto Heeseung’s dick. 

As if Heeseung isn’t rotting in a grave somewhere and might not even still have a dick. What kind of creep gets off while thinking of a dead person? 

Jake, apparently. All he can think is Heeseung, please, Heeseung Heeseung Heeseung while he cums, hips shaking and drool soaking into his pillowcase. 

As he’s coming down, breath coming out in big, wet puffs, dread quickly eclipses the bliss of relieving his cock. His stomach feels like it’s revolting against his own body. He tastes bile and cinnamon and prays he won’t puke as he pries himself onto his back. 

His eyelids are heavy. He wants to sleep but he has to clean the sticky mess from his boxers. It takes a painful amount of effort to prop himself up on his elbow and flick his bedside lamp on. 

And when he does, he almost flicks the switch right back off. Warm light reaches for the far end of the room, fading across the carpet and casting big, harsh shadows on his embarrassingly plain wall; shapes composed of the bottles on his nightstand, one of his bedposts, and a lanky silhouette with fluffy strands of hair sticking out like nonsensical scribbles on a sheet of paper. 

Jake’s throat closes up, forcing him to draw in a pained gasp as he scrambles to sit up and press himself against his headboard. He’s fucking hallucinating now, holy fuck. He blinks. Blinks harder. 

Heeseung is still in the room, casually sitting on Jake’s desk chair with a tilted head and furrowed eyebrows, like he’s the confused one here. 

“What the fuck,” Jake keens. He wraps his arms tightly around himself and bunches the fabric of his shirt up in his trembling fists. “Heeseung?” 

It would be funny if this was a different situation; Heeseung turning around as if Jake was talking to someone behind him, then whipping his head forward and stiffening up like a startled cat. “You can see me?” he asks. His voice is still the same honey timbre it once was. 

“I— yes? Yes, I can see you.” Jake looks Heeseung up and down, incredulous. 

Heeseung is wearing the same thing he wore the night he died. Camp Riverfield is printed across the front of his sweatshirt in a forest-green serif and his jewelry blinks in the golden lamplight. His skin is just as tan as it was in the summer sun, lips just as healthy and pretty. He’s so handsome it’s devastating. 

This— it isn’t right. This is some sick joke the universe is playing on Jake. It’s cruel.

Heeseung’s face blurs as tears prick at Jake’s eyes. “You’re dead, Heeseung. Why are you here?” 

Heeseung stands slowly, taking careful steps toward Jake and reaching out for him. “I don’t know, either,” he whispers. “But I’ve been with you this whole time, since I died.” When he reaches Jake, he cups the side of his face in his hand. His skin is hot like he was just in the sun for hours, and Jake leans into the touch, letting his tears soak Heeseung’s palm. 

Heeseung inhales deeply and wipes under Jake’s eye with his thumb. “I can touch you,” he marvels. 

Jake is overwhelmed. He’s wanted Heeseung for all of this time and he’s finally here, he’s finally in front of him, he’s finally touching him. Jake’s heart is thundering and his skin is running hot. 

He can’t even wrap his head around this, so the first thing that pops into his mind whips right off of his tongue.

“Were you just watching me jerk off?” 

✧

Heeseung isn’t wearing shoes. He’s following behind Jake, who’s speed-walking toward the campus Starbucks that closes in twenty minutes, trying to ignore Heeseung’s presence. And Heeseung is only wearing socks. Outside. On rough concrete. 

“Jake, c’mon” Heeseung pleads, and Jake winces as arousal pools between his legs at the mere sound of his voice. “If the roles were switched then you would watch me beat my dick, wouldn’t you? Don’t think I’ve never heard you moan my name.” 

Jake’s eyes widen. His footsteps halt. Has he done that before, without realizing it? Heat rises up to his cheeks. 

He doesn’t want to admit that he really, truly would watch Heeseung masturbate if he ended up unwillingly haunting him forever. How else does a ghost entertain himself, honestly? But the shoe is way different on the other foot! Jake is upset and humiliated that Heeseung knows him so intimately. He doesn’t even know Heeseung’s birthday, or his zodiac sign, or his favorite color. Yet Heeseung must know everything about Jake; his morning routine, his insecurities, what he looks like naked, how he likes to touch himself. 

Jake sighs, looking up at the stars and begging them to give him the strength. “Why aren’t you wearing shoes, Heeseung?” 

“Huh?! Because I only have one! Why would I walk around wearing one shoe?”

✧

So Heeseung is definitely a ghost. The tired Starbucks employee looks at Jake like he’s insane when he asks if Heeseung wants any coffee. 

He feels a little bad for acting bonkers after ordering a Frappuccino at this hour. 

“I’m kind of, like, dead,” Heeseung says, looking almost as perplexed as the employee, “I don’t eat or drink.” 

Jake sighs, then points at Heeseung, addressing the barista. “Do you see this guy?” 

The barista shifts uncomfortably behind the counter, glancing desperately at their wristwatch. “Um… no. You’re the only customer in here. We literally close in four minutes.”

✧

“Heeseung,” Jake whispers. He’s cocooned into his comforter, staring at Heeseung— the ghost sitting on the end of his bed.

The coffee he downed is hardly battling the exhaustion in his bones, and he can feel arousal stirring inside him just from having Heeseung on his bed, his dick twitching in interest every time Heeseung shifts his posture and a wave of Old Spice hits him again. He should go to sleep before he has to deal with a third stubborn erection in one day, this time with company, but there’s a question that’s been eating him up since the day Heeseung died. 

Heeseung hums. “Mhm?”

“Um.” Jake peels himself out of his blanket so he can scoot closer until his knee brushes against Heeseung’s thigh. Warmth sizzles over his skin. “That night… when you, uh…” 

“When I died?” 

“Yeah.” Jake winces. “Sorry. I just— what were you wanting to do by the lake?”

A devilish smile stretches over Heeseung’s face, revealing a top row of striking teeth. His eyes are as intense as Jake remembers. “What were you wanting me to do?” 

“Come on,” Jake whines. He hits Heeseung’s thigh. “I asked first.” 

Heeseung chuckles, leaning forward and bracing his weight on his palms. His chain necklace swings in front of his chest. He’s so close, Jake can feel his breath, and pick out the very familiar scent of Jake’s gum. “You really wanna know? It might be best if you don’t.” 

What a tease. Jake is desperate to know, and while Heeseung’s playfulness drives him up the wall in the sexiest way imaginable, this isn’t the time. 

“Please?” Jake begs. “It’s been so long.” 

“Hmm.” Heeseung looks at the ceiling like he’s really mulling it over, then drops his gaze back to Jake, to his lips. “I wanted to fuck you,” he says, manipulating his voice into a deep, velvety hue. “I wanted to fuck you so good that you’d beg for me again and again, and cling to my legs and cry when it was time to leave camp.” 

A shocked whine gets caught in Jake’s throat. 

Heeseung snickers. “Cute.” 

Jake hasn’t been this relieved in ages. He’s so warm and gooey all over, he feels like he’s about to purr like a cat. Maybe the universe is finally lifting his curse and giving Heeseung back as compensation. Maybe the void is finally filled. 

He feels like an excited puppy, his hips unable to stay still like he has a tail swishing behind him and his breath becoming desperate, open-mouthed pants. “You can. Right now.” Please, please, please. 

“But I can’t, though.” Heeseung frowns, patting Jake’s cheek. It stings, like it was a slap. The action is condescending and Jake pouts in confusion, his lungs seizing up with the heavy shift in the air. 

“Why can’t you?” 

“It’s complicated.”

Jake resists the urge to throw himself back and growl like he’s having a tantrum. Over dick. If he had the capacity to feel shame these days, he would hide under his bed forever. 

He wants to know why Heeseung can’t fuck him if he actually wants him. Has Heeseung already seen too much? After observing everything Jake has done, maybe he realizes he’s gross and weird and pathetic. 

“You’ve freely perved on me for a year and a half. I think I deserve an explanation, at least,” Jake demands, trying to keep his voice level. 

“Fine,” Heeseung says, sitting up against the wall and refusing to meet Jake’s eyes. It’s not like him. He usually deploys deep eye contact relentlessly, never missing an opportunity to make use of his endless doe-like gaze. But now, his attention is lingering somewhere behind Jake. “It might sound stupid, but the only unfulfilled promise I have is to help you get laid. You know the whole ghosts having unfinished business thing? Well, I don’t want to finish my business.” He plucks at a stray thread on the hem of his sweatshirt, fully turning his head away and gazing out the window like there’s anything to see other than a stagnant retention pond and some trees. “I’m… scared. I don’t know what will happen if my promise gets fulfilled.” 

Jake turns Heeseung’s words over in his head, slowly snapping all the pieces into place. He gulps. “What exactly are you saying?” 

“I’m worried that if you lose your virginity, I really won’t be here anymore. I’m not religious. I don’t know what’ll happen after that.” He turns to face Jake again, chewing on his lower lip and doing that thing where he seemingly manipulates the way light sparkles in his eyes, a tactic that probably got him out of a lot of trouble in the past. “You understand that, right, Jake?” 

The realization hits Jake like a truck. 

Heeseung desperately doesn’t want Jake to get laid. And the curse started with him. The supernatural force that’s blown every shot Jake ever had at having sex—

It was Heeseung this entire time. 

Jake never thought he’d feel any negative emotion toward Heeseung, ever. It was unimaginable. His puppy-love was blinding. But now, his blood is fucking boiling. 

“What the fuck, Heeseung?!” he shouts, pushing at Heeseung’s shoulder and making him scramble to stand up before he falls off the end of the bed. 

“Jake, listen—”

“No!” Jake points an accusing finger at him. “Did you put Soobin’s rat in my bed?” 

A feeble nod. 

“And at that party. Did you make me piss myself?!” 

Another. 

“Did you push a man off a damn escalator? Hit a man with a car?” 

“Oh, please. Those guys weren’t even cute.” 

Jake fake-laughs so suddenly that it visibly startles Heeseung. “I thought I was crazy, but you— you killed someone!” His heartbeat stops for a moment. “Would you kill me?” 

“No, no! I’m, like, spiritually tethered to you or some shit. I would have to be an idiot to kill you.” 

Jake narrows his eyes. “Oh, yeah?” As if he could trust the official worst thing that’s ever happened in his life. He needs to get rid of him. And fast. 

Finding an exorcist might be a place to start, but he doesn’t know where to find one. A church? He’d rather eat his own balls than step foot into one of those. 

Then he looks at his ankle. Of course. He’s never taken the anklet off. It has to be his last physical tie to Heeseung. 

Glaring daggers at him, he hooks his fingers under the jewelry and yanks as hard as he can. It doesn’t break, but it really fucking hurts. He tries again, and again, and eventually gives up with a grunt and darts across the room, then yanks his desk drawer open and rifles around the miscellaneous clutter for a pair of scissors. 

“The hell are you doing, Jake?” Heeseung mutters. 

“Getting rid of you. For good this time.” Jake thinks that line will be epic when he enacts his plan. He’ll snip the anklet in half, beads will rain onto the floor, Heeseung will disappear, and Jake will never have to smell Old Spice or mosquito repellent or lake water again. But the reality is anticlimactic. He forces the blades of the scissors into the elastic, and nothing. It won’t break. The word slut is silently heckling him. 

“How’s that going?” Heeseung mocks. “You know, you’re being stupid. Stop and think.” He steps closer, standing tall and crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re not the victim here. I’m the one who drowned to death, Jake. Is some dick really worth me disappearing forever?”

“Asshole.” A tear rolls down Jake’s cheek and he immediately wipes it off with the back of his hand, embarrassed. 

“Am I the asshole?” 

Really, he’s not. Jake would probably do the same in Heeseung’s situation. And it does look like he’s crying and having a tantrum because he can’t get a cock up his ass. Fuck. That’s exactly what he’s doing. Meanwhile Heeseung’s problems involve, like, being dead. 

Jake lets the scissors fall to the floor.

He shouldn’t be so relieved that the anklet refused to break. 

✧

Death hasn’t stripped Heeseung of his penchant for mischief. In fact, it might be even worse than before. Being a ghost has to be boring as hell; he’s always itching to entertain himself with Jake’s reactions. 

So, having a sexy ghost companion isn’t as fun as it sounds. It’s getting startled daily with a cheesy ass boo! It’s waking up to multiple objects taped to the ceiling, finding Soobin’s rats in his underwear drawer, searching frantically for whatever the hell Monster Mash is playing from, and getting poked at in front of his friends where he can’t say something or smack Heeseung in the head without looking crazy. 

To add on to his suffering, Heeseung is looking more attractive every day. Or maybe Jake is just getting hornier, but it’s killing him on the inside. Sometimes he wants to cry because of how badly he wants to crawl onto Heeseung’s lap and lick all over his pretty mouth and perfect face, press flush against his body and dry hump him until he’s shaking. 

He can hardly get a wink of sleep at night. He’s been blowing all of his money on sweets. Multiple times a day, he has to put headphones and a blindfold on a protesting ghost so he can peacefully jerk off. 

And the worst part of it all: he feels sick when he thinks of not having Heeseung around. 

✧

“It was getting really annoying, you know,” Heeseung says, curling a lock of Jake’s hair around his finger and tugging lightly. 

Jake literally can’t respond right now. He’s in class. Right next to Sunoo, who’s doodling cute little animals in the margins of his notebook instead of paying attention to the lecture. He would surely notice if Jake started whispering to himself.

Jake sighs quietly, shooting Heeseung a quick glare that hopefully asks what the fuck are you talking about, jizzrag? And hopefully verbatim. 

“It takes a lot out of me to do some real paranormal activity shit,” Heeseung continues, even though the professor has a microphone and her voice drones on endlessly. He sits on the desk and swings his feet, resting his weight back on his arms. “Like when I made you hit that guy in the dick with a golf club. Even that made me feel like I was dying.” He realizes what he just said and laughs. “Well.” 

Jake rolls his eyes. 

“Anyway, it was so hard to stop you from having sex. It would’ve been way easier if you weren’t so goddamn pretty.”

Fuck. Why did Heeseung have to say that? Of course Jake’s malfunctioning dick has to twitch at that, growing hard in his pants. From a fucking compliment. From a ghost. And a really annoying ghost, at that. 

Sunoo pokes Jake’s cheek with his pencil, whispering, “why are you blushing right now?” 

Heeseung laughs. 

✧

Jake has hit rock bottom. 

It doesn’t get much lower than sobbing on the floor of a Spencer’s, right in front of their dildo selection, blabbering wet, incomprehensible laments around a mouthful of glazed donut. 

“Let it all out,” Sunoo comforts, stroking Jake’s dull, messy hair. 

Jay pats his shoulder. “It’ll be okay, bud.” 

No, it won’t. Jake feels so empty and wanting that it hurts, like he’s had his heart ripped out, leaving a gaping, oozing red cavity in his chest, he can’t even get off from touching himself anymore, and his erection won’t fucking die down. His friends just wanted to have a nice time at the mall and cheer him up, but he was so strung out and exhausted by the time Sunghoon had commented, “maybe you should just try a vibrator— ooh, tushy tingler,” that it had immediately set him off. 

Because Jake doesn’t want a fucking vibrator. He wants Heeseung; that stupid ghost flipping through a cheesy rendition of the Kamasutra, blatantly ignoring the mess he’s made of Jake’s life. 

As Jake watches donut crumbs and tears fall to the shiny concrete floor, he realizes he can’t live like this forever. If he doesn’t let Heeseung go, it’ll only get worse. 

✧

Plan A: brawl with Heeseung, and keep him at bay long enough to jump on someone’s cock. 

Jay’s frat parties are the perfect place to act like a lunatic without any repercussions. It’s hard to see or hear what’s even happening around you when people are packed into the mansion like sardines, strobe lights constantly punish your eyes, and the music is so loud it leaves your ears ringing for days. Plus, most people are either drunk, high, or both, and anything incriminating captured on camera can be boiled down to extreme inebriation. It’s the perfect opportunity for Jake to enact his plan. 

“Frat parties are so dumb,” Heeseung complains. He’s draped over the back of the couch like a blanket, letting his warm breath fan over Jake’s shoulder. “We should just go home and watch Netflix.” 

Jake’s insides melt at the thought of spending time alone with Heeseung again. He hasn’t done so since the Dildo Aisle Incident, always keeping himself in the company of his friends and spending the night at Sunghoon’s place. Friends are a good distraction from the constant desperation tugging at his groin, and Heeseung is the exact opposite. 

“I thought you liked parties,” Jake says, scanning the room for any potential hookups. 

Heeseung snorts. “Yeah, fun parties.” 

“Do you have to be so pretentious?” 

“Yes. I do.” 

Jake rolls his eyes, then lands them on the perfect target. He’s a tall boy with bleach blond hair, slithering his way through the living room with sweet ‘excuse-me’s that no one else would bother with. No time to ponder on it. Jake stands from the couch and catches the boy by the arm before he can slip away, smiling coyly and fluttering his eyelashes in a way he knows is charming. “Hey. What’s your name?” 

The boy visibly flushes, ears going red. “Oh, it’s Kai. And you?” 

Heeseung’s face pops up out of nowhere, blocking Jake’s line of vision and making him squeak. “Seriously?” Heeseung mutters. 

Jake fakes a cough and pushes Heeseung’s head aside, revealing a mildly confused Kai. “Sorry. Name’s Jake. You’re cute. Would you wanna um— eek!” He feels a strong blow to his right shoulder, then he’s tumbling onto the couch with such force that the whole thing topples onto its back, spilling him into the floor behind it and casting the room into a dizzying kaleidoscope of legs, strobe lights, and sticky flooring. 

Heeseung steps over the tipped furniture and pounces on Jake, straddling his waist. It’s embarrassingly arousing having the heat of Heeseung’s weight on top of him, caging him in. “What do you think you’re doing, hm?” Heeseung asks, and his tone is so dark and rich that Jake wants to swallow it. 

“Not the couch again!” Jay grouses from the kitchen. 

“What the— are you okay?” Kai asks, but Jake will get back to him after he handles his business. 

“Getting laid,” Jake growls in response to Heeseung’s question, making Kai startle and Heeseung laugh incredulously. He goes to punch that smug look off of Heeseung’s face but Heeseung catches his wrist, then the other, and pins them over his head, pressing them bruisingly against the cold, slippery hardwood, enough for the bass vibrating the floor to rattle through Jake’s bones. 

“Nice try.” Heeseung looks wild, hair messier than usual and eyes swirling with something fiery that Jake can’t place. He’s gorgeous from every angle, but this one is new, it’s sexier, it makes Jake feel small and helpless. “Do you know you look crazy right now, or have you actually gone insane?” 

Jake thrashes, feet kicking against the couch and hips writhing under Heeseung. He shifts at just the perfect angle for his hard dick to grind against Heeseung’s thigh, and chokes a moan back at the pleasure sparking through his body. “Fuck you!” 

And that brings us to plan B. 

✧

Plan B: seduce Heeseung. 

Nothing like a classic manual car wash to get all hot and wet. Except Jake doesn’t have his own car, so he’s washing Jay’s Mercedes under the guise of friendliness. And it’s still early autumn, and he’s wearing a thin white t-shirt and denim short shorts, meaning the contrast of warm sun and cold wind causes goosebumps to erupt over his skin. 

“You really have gone crazy,” Heeseung says, assuming a dad stance with hands on his hips and a furrow to his brow. 

Oh, Jake will show him crazy. 

“Why?” He slowly sinks into a squat, back arched with clear intention, to scrub the door. “I’m just being a good friend,” he says, honeyed, looking over his shoulder to bat his lashes at Heeseung. With a coy smirk, he squeezes his sponge. The veins in his hands become more prominent with his grip, and with the water sluicing in enticing streams down the planes and curves of his skin. Bubbly, white globs of soap glide suggestively down the slippery metal of the car. 

Heeseung gulps, eyes wide, then shakes his head and regains his composure. “Your friend can definitely afford a trip to the car wash. So why are you washing his car, Jake?” 

Jake is starting to shiver because of the cold, but the way Heeseung says his name will never fail to get him feeling warm on the inside. He shrugs, dipping his sponge in the bucket next to him before standing to move on to the hood. “Maybe I just like using my hands,” he purrs, leaning over the hood until his stomach presses against it and scrubbing in slow circles. Water flows from the sponge in rivulets, collecting where Jake’s abdomen meets the metal and soaking into his shirt. “And getting wet.” 

Heeseung’s eyes darken. “I know what you’re doing,” he says, taking slow steps closer. 

“Yeah?” Jake turns to face Heeseung, propping his ass against Jay’s hood and hopefully not denting it— Jay would personally murder him slowly and painfully. His shirt is soaked enough for the fabric to cling to every dip and curve of his abs, intensifying the chill over his skin, making his nipples hard and obvious under the light, thin material, and a few drops of water are rolling down his thighs. He looks up at Heeseung with determination, licking his lips and running his trembling, wet fingers through his hair. “What am I doing?” 

Heeseung caresses Jake’s hip, and the heat of it nearly has Jake’s knees buckling. “Acting like a whore,” he says simply, glaring straight into the shivering, rifting core of Jake’s being. His thumb teases under the hem of Jake’s shirt, rubbing hot circles into his skin, melting away the goosebumps down Jake’s thighs. “Trying to get me to bend you over and rail you right against this car.” He starts peeling Jake’s shirt from his abs and lifting it, and Jake’s breath catches in his throat, breaking apart into a stuttered whine. 

He can’t believe this is actually working. He also can’t believe he’s entirely willing to let Heeseung take him right here, in the driveway of Jay’s frat house, in chilly weather, where he might catch a cold, and where someone might see him. God, he doesn’t care. He wants Heeseung right now. His dick is throbbing in the tight confines of his little shorts, begging for relief, begging for Heeseung’s touch. “Maybe,” he breathes, lifting his arms so Heeseung can work his shirt off and toss it aside. “Do you want to?” 

“I do.” Heeseung pulls his own sweatshirt off and Jake’s mouth waters at the display of soft, sun-kissed skin and subtle muscle. It’s been so long. Jake has never stopped wanting Heeseung. 

He reaches forward and pulls Heeseung close by the hips, until their legs slot against each other. “Then do it. Take me.” 

Heeseung smirks, far too pleased with his effect on Jake. Then he laughs and tugs his sweatshirt over Jake’s head, bathing him in warmth and sweet, nostalgic summer aromas. 

Jake blinks up at Heeseung when his head emerges from the collar, so confused and so dizzy with arousal. 

“Your lips are turning blue,” Heeseung says. “Put your arms in the sleeves.” 

Jake flushes, equal parts embarrassed, horny, and frustrated, but does as he’s told. Heeseung’s sweater is annoyingly cozy, soft lining broken in by wear against Heeseung’s skin, and Heeseung’s body heat is trapped in the thick cotton. “You’re cruel,” he grumbles, casting his eyes away and wrapping himself in his own arms. Still, his heart flutters at the concept of wearing Heeseung’s clothes. Of Heeseung taking care of him. Caring about him.  

“Oh, I’m the worst,” Heeseung teases. 

✧

“This is an intervention,” says Sunghoon, bursting into Jake’s room unannounced. 

Jake looks up from his chemistry assignment, unamused, and Heeseung snorts from where he’s laid on Jake’s bed, flipping through a random Tilly’s catalog that had come in the mail. 

Behind Sunghoon trails Jay, then Sunoo, who’s trying not to laugh while the other two keep their expressions solemn. All the lights are off in Jake’s room, only the faint blue glow from his laptop and sunlight leaking around the edges of his blackout curtain providing visibility, so the light spilling from the hallway paints the three as dramatic, too-serious silhouettes, superheroes. Here to rescue Jake. And maybe he does need rescuing. A ritual? A spiritual cleanse? A therapist? 

“You have a problem,” Jay deadpans. 

Sunghoon nods. “And because we care about you, we want to help you.” 

Jake sighs, shuts his laptop, and leans back into his desk chair, swiveling it to face his friends. “I’m fine,” he lies, and the shoulders shrugging up to his ears are his tell. His friends know this. 

“No. You’re not,” Jay says. “You’re always holed up in your room, and when you’re not, you’re crying on the gym equipment, and on the dining hall tables, and on Jungwon from Ethics. And falling asleep in class. And talking to yourself. And fighting my couch.” 

Jake pouts, and looks at Heeseung—who seems a little guilty for once—for a brief moment. “I wasn’t fighting your couch.” 

“Were you fighting demons?” Sunoo jokes. Demons, yes. Heeseung is a demon and he’s making Jake’s life a personal hell. 

“No. I was just drunk and acting a little goofy.” 

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow. “If by goofy you mean possessed.” 

“Jake,” Jay starts, taking careful steps and leaning to get eye-level, placing a reassuring hand on Jake’s shoulder. “You can tell us if you’re doing drugs. We won’t judge you. We just want you to get better.” 

“I’m definitely not doing drugs.” 

“We know the signs,” Sunghoon says. “The strange behavior. The emotional outbursts. The munchies. The sleep deprivation. The slipping grades.” 

Jake sighs deeply, sinking further into his chair, almost slipping into the floor. “What PTA meeting did you just crawl out of? I’m not doing drugs.” 

“Then what’s wrong?” Jay presses on. 

“I’m…” Jake swallows thickly. “I’m being haunted. Heeseung from camp is haunting me and I still want him to fuck me and he won’t and he won’t let me fuck anyone and I’ve been so horny and empty and—”

“Jake!” Sunghoon interruptes, allowing Jake to stop and take a breath. “Ghosts aren’t real and Heeseung isn’t haunting you. You just haven’t dealt with the grief properly. Do you want me to schedule a meeting with the counselor?” 

“You don’t believe me,” Jake whispers. 

“What?” 

Louder, he repeats himself. “You don’t believe me. You think I’m crazy.” 

“No, that’s not what I’m saying—”

“I thought I could trust my own friends to believe me but I guess fucking not, so I’ll go back to dealing with this alone. And without dumb interventions. Get out.” 

“Hey,” Heeseung calls. He holds up the catalog and points at a pair of two-toned sweatpants. “Can you buy me this? I’m getting tired of the jorts.” 

Jake glares. Do ghosts not know how to read the room? 

✧

Just for the record, Jake is still pissed at Heeseung. But it’s not like Heeseung chose to die and get spiritually tethered to Jake, plus his annoying antics and teasing are charming rather than angering, and his presence isn’t draining. Heeseung isn’t going anywhere, that’s for sure, and Jake doesn’t really have anyone else to go to. 

So, he lets Heeseung wear a pair of his sweatpants, endeared by how short they are on him, and how his ankles stick out. 

And now they’re watching Netflix together in bed, with Jake’s laptop on Heeseung’s lap, their thighs brushing against each other when Jake shifts to get more comfortable, making sparks zap under his skin each time. It’s balmy and safe, like being suspended in a warm lake, floating, watching beams of sunlight shimmer through the surface and knowing one day, at his own pace, Jake can reach it. He realizes that when he touches Heeseung, his perpetual arousal is less aching and more an almost bearable, molten heat. 

Almost bearable. Heeseung pauses the movie and rests a hand on Jake’s thigh, making him jolt at the sudden burn of pleasure. 

“What? Do you have to pee?” Jake asks, turning to face Heeseung. Their noses are inches apart, and he can feel Heeseung’s warm, minty breath on his lips. 

Heeseung chuckles breathily, letting the laptop slide off his thighs and turning his body toward Jake, so their knees slot into each other, and holding Jake’s waist like he’s something fragile and precious. “Have I ever taken a piss, Jake?” 

“Well— um, yes,” Jake splutters. “You wanted me to hold your hand.” 

Heeseung raises a teasing eyebrow. “Oh, so when I was alive. Wait— you remember that?” 

“How could I not? It wasn’t a very ordinary first impression.” 

“I guess so.” Heeseung smiles, just a little bit, a barely-there hint at tender adoration, then squeezes Jake’s waist and pulls him closer. Their noses brush against each other. “You never tried to take the anklet off,” he whispers, taking on a soft, genuine tone. “You cried at my funeral and bought pretty flowers to put on my grave.” 

Jake’s heart pounds in his chest. “Yeah. I really liked you.” 

“Liked?” 

“Like.” 

Then Heeseung has his mouth on Jake’s, kissing him so, so gently, but with the heat of him, the softness of his lips, it’s suffocating in the best way possible. Like a sauna. Jake turns into jelly in Heeseung’s hold, whining at the burst of pleasure and joy inside him, reaching for Heeseung’s shoulders so he can pull him closer. 

The kiss quickly grows into something passionate and hungry, lips pressing together and separating with quiet, wet smacks, tongues gliding together, teeth nipping lovingly at each other’s lips. Heeseung tastes like summer— like the gum Jake’s stopped using although he loves the flavor, the soft, sugary grit of roasted marshmallows, the earthy minerals from Camp Riverfield’s lake, like sun and water, like comfort. And he touches Jake like he’s a thing to be worshiped, hands roaming with a purpose to feel and admire. 

Jake can hardly contain his satisfaction, moaning and gasping into the kiss, working his fingers into Heeseung’s tangled, sun-damaged waves, and tugging until Heeseung groans and clutches at the fabric of Jake’s shirt. It’s hot. Everything is in flames. Jake’s clothes are burning his skin and Heeseung’s mouth is branding a warmth into his lips that’ll hopefully linger forever. His dick is feverish, hard and leaking into the fabric of his boxers, and he wants to climb out of himself and burrow into Heeseung. 

When their lips break apart long enough for words, Jake blurts out: “you make me so horny.” 

“Me too,” Heeseung says against Jake’s lips. He pecks them once, twice, a third time, sighing happily. “I’ve never wanted to fuck someone so badly. Fuck, you’re killing me, Jake.” 

Jake laughs, all air. “You’re gonna have to stop that.” 

“What else am I supposed to say, huh? You’re aliving me?” 

“Mhm,” Jake hums, pressing forward to catch Heeseung’s lips again, licking into his mouth, hot and syrupy. This is so good. It’s everything. It’s everything and not enough at the same time. “I hate you,” he whines. 

“Yeah? Why’s that?” 

“Because I wanna have sex with you.” 

“Can’t.” Heeseung sighs, giving Jake’s waist a good squeeze before kissing the corner of his mouth, smearing their combined spit across his cheek. “But we can keep kissing. And… you can touch yourself, if you want.” 

That’s how they end up sucking and licking needily at each other’s mouths, hands down their respective pants, groans and the slick sounds of their fingers working over their cocks flooding the room. 

Heeseung sucks hard at Jake’s lower lip, biting and drawing more blood to the surface of his sensitive, swollen skin, and Jake can feel a blurt of precum leaking onto his fingers, and his dick jumping against his palm. This is so much better than getting off alone. Heeseung’s heavy, stuttering breaths, soft groans, and sweet, all-consuming kisses are all it takes to have Jake hurtling toward his orgasm. 

“Wish I could be fucking you right now,” Heeseung says, pressing his wet lips to Jake’s ear. “I’d pin you down and pound you into the mattress until you’re shaking. Want my cock inside you, Jake. Have since the day I met you. God, you’re so pretty.” 

“Heeseung,” Jake gasps, working his hand faster over his dick. He keeps Heeseung close by the back of his head, fingers caught in his inky tangles, holding onto his warmth like it’s a lifeline. “Want you— want you in me. Know you’d fuck me so good. Fuck. I’m close.” 

“Yeah?” Heeseung fucks into his own fist, frenzied enough to make the bed creak, to jostle the mattress and Jake alike. “Go ahead. Come for me, baby.” 

Jake does. He comes with a sharp cry of pleasure, working himself through with cum-coated fingers, whimpering until the last drop soaks into his boxers. 

Heeseung is close behind, hips stilling and teeth digging into the junction between Jake’s neck and shoulder, sure to leave a mark if that’s how this ghost stuff works, a low groan rumbling in his chest. 

They both come down panting, clutching at each other and kissing like their breathing will stop when their mouths part, sloppy and uncoordinated. 

Jake wants Heeseung even more. He wants Heeseung more than anything.

✧

“Psst.” Poke. “Pssst.” 

Jake huffs through his nose, ignoring Sunoo and his choice weapon of aggravation: pencil. 

“Jakey,” Sunoo lilts. Then he’s silent for a moment, then Jake feels something cold and wet in his ear. 

“Ew!” Jake exclaims, swatting the slobbery writing utensil away. “Stop this madness. What do you want from me?” 

“I just want you to know that I believe you.” 

Jake’s head whips around. He blinks at Sunoo, who looks sincere, brow soft and lips in a line. “You do?” 

“Yeah. I believe in ghosts,” Sunoo admits. “And, more importantly, I believe in my friends.” 

“Sunoo… that’s really sweet.” 

Sunoo shrugs. “I guess. Now tell me where this is from,” he says, poking the dark love bite blooming at the base of Jake’s neck. 

Jake flushes, then looks up at Heeseung, meeting a pair of smug eyes. “Heeseung. He— we made out.” 

“Knew it!” Sunoo squeals with excitement. “Is he in the room with us? Can I use my ouija board to talk to him? Or is he shy? I wanna know if he can walk through walls. And if ghosts get erections.” 

Jake smirks, and Heeseung rolls his eyes. “They do. They can have orgasms, too.” 

“Oh. My. God. What happens to the ghost cum? Or… ectoplasm?” 

“Gross!”  

✧

Plan B is still in action, by the way. 

As much as Jake loves being around Heeseung, he needs to let go of the past. He’ll never get anywhere in life if he keeps lingering in this permanent, sexless standstill. And if he lets this go on for any longer, he’s scared he’ll fall deeply in love with Heeseung and never crawl out. 

Jake is weak to the desires of his heart, but the pressing matter here is his perpetual boner, his constant fever, and the steady flow of precum keeping his boxers damp. He’s started skipping classes because of it, losing sleep because of it, instead climbing onto Heeseung’s lap and jerking himself off for hours, drowning in Heeseung’s warmth and praise and kisses. 

Sometimes Sunoo drops by to check in and make him eat, then teases him for all of the bruises up and down his neck. At one point, he brings an online-certified exorcist and a bottle of holy water from Amazon, but Jake dismisses them. If he’s going to get rid of Heeseung, he wants to get laid while doing it. He has to get Heeseung to fuck him. 

“My arm hurts,” Jake complains, wilting into Heeseung’s space and resting a cheek against his thigh. He sighs deeply, exhaling in the direction of Heeseung’s crotch, then turns his face to peck his inner thigh. 

Heeseung tenses up. “I’m not a doctor, but it might be all of that jacking off.” He soothingly combs his fingers through Jake’s hair. 

Jake deflates, eyes fluttering shut. “I think I know what’s happening,” he says, and Heeseung hums, prompting him to continue. “I think, if your mission is to get me laid, I’d have to be horny. Maybe I’m on some crazy paranormal aphrodisiac.” 

“That sounds a little far-fetched.” 

Jake shrugs. “So does being haunted by a super sexy camp counselor, whose physical tether to me happens to be a dumb anklet with the word ‘slut’ on it. And, here’s the kicker, all because said counselor decided to die before putting his dick in me.” 

Heeseung hisses in faux pain. “Ouch. That’s how you think of me, huh?” 

“Shut up.” Jake nuzzles into Heeseung’s inner thigh, breathing in his mouth-watering scent, letting his nose inch closer and closer to the tent in his sweatpants. “You’re hard,” he comments, dragging the backs of his fingers along Heeseung’s bulge. 

“I wonder why.” 

Jake giggles, then settles back down, moving his hand up to rub Heeseung’s hip. “I want you to know something,” he starts, drawing invisible patterns on Heeseung’s hip bone, tracing veins. “When you’re gone forever… you won’t really be gone. I’ll always remember you and I’ll always wish I ended up with you. I’ve never felt something like this before. I’ve never even been as attracted to someone as I am to you. You’re, like, my soulmate. I’ll carry you with me forever.” Tears begin to well up in his eyes, so he blinks and a salty droplet soaks into the fabric under his cheek. “Ew, I’m getting all emotional.” 

“Jake…” Heeseung takes in a deep, shaky breath. “I fucking love you. Stop talking to my dick. Come up here and kiss me.” 

✧

Their make-out sessions get more intense by the day, hands treading dangerous paths, lips kissed raw, sweat slicking their skin. Mostly in Jake’s bed, but sometimes in the shower, or a study room, or the library, or a Target bathroom, or the darkest corner of a Wendy’s parking lot. 

It’s consuming Jake’s life and he doesn’t even know how to feel about it. He hardly has any brain cells left, having orgasmed them out, and everything is a sepia-toned blur of roaming hands and searing kisses and everything Heeseung. He thinks he’s breaking. He’s useless. He’s suspended in time. He’s stuck in the summer. He’s nothing but Heeseung’s. He fails three of this semester’s classes. He mends his friendships with Sunghoon and Jay only to drift away again. Even Sunoo fades from his life, slow and sure like the changing of seasons. It’s winter now, but Jake only feels heat, only smells sunscreen, and only sees the sky through a glimmering blanket of waves, through the green-blue murk of lake water. 

It’s a bright Sunday morning when Jake, fresh out of a shower, flops into bed and snuggles up to Heeseung’s side, smiling like it’s the first night of their honeymoon. His hair is wet and it soaks into Heeseung’s sweatshirt, but of course Heeseung doesn’t care. 

“You smell good,” Heeseung says, wrapping his warm arms around Jake’s waist and holding him tight. It would take forever to explain how good Heeseung smells, every note of Summer 2020 woven alongside the threads of his sweater, of memories that can only be unlocked with an aroma, sweet and hot and fresh like the air of Camp Riverfield itself. One day, Jake will associate these scents with what he has now. With loving arms, long legs tangled with his own, and a sturdy body to curl into. 

Yeah, it would take way too long. So, Jake settles with a simple “you too,” rubbing his hand up and down Heeseung’s chest, further familiarizing himself with the perfect planes of Heeseung’s body.

Heeseung hooks a hand under Jake’s thigh and hoists him higher against himself, wiggling and shuffling until they’re nose-to-nose. His eyes are deep, glimmering like moonlight over the lake, intense and penetrating even through the wisps of dark fringe brushing against his cheekbones. 

As always, they meld together like it’s second nature. Like it’s as simple as breathing, their lips find each other, slotting together in a perfect, velvety glide, and their tongues sink into each other’s mouths. Their kisses will never get old. Jake will always find new flavors on Heeseung’s tongue, and he’ll always discover new ways to make Heeseung gasp. Even if their kisses tasted the same every time, even if their mouths learned a routine and never strayed from it, Jake would never tire of the feeling, of the warmth. It’s like sun on his skin. 

It doesn’t take long for the both of them to grow restless and needy. Heeseung pulls Jake so firmly against himself that it hurts, sucking on Jake’s tongue as he grinds into him, clothed cock pressing against his ass. Jake keens, whimpering high in his throat, winding his leg tight around Heeseung’s waist, grabbing onto Heeseung’s shoulder like it’s his life preserver in this inescapable storm of ferocious desire. It’s consuming him, engulfing him, as it always does when they’re like this. He needs relief, he needs to work it out of his system before it kills him, he needs— 

Heeseung grinds against him again, slipping a hand down to his ass and squeezing hard. His dick feels so big. His hands are so strong. It’s unbearable. 

Jake wedges his hand between their bodies, down to his waistband. He thinks he’ll really die if he doesn’t touch his dick in the next two seconds, and unfortunately his fingers hardly dip into his sweats before Heeseung pushes him flat, back against the bed, and rolls on top, propping himself up with one hand, stealing Jake’s wrist with the other. He pins it against the pillow and ignores Jake’s confused cry. “Jake,” he breathes, lips parting around a gasp when he rolls his hips down, then grinds against Jake, and does it again, causing Jake to writhe and panic, hands scrambling down Heeseung’s side so he can fruitlessly attempt to hold him still. 

“Heeseung?” Jake blinks up at him with big, confused eyes, chewing at his lower lip to muffle his whines. It stings when he lets it go to ask, “I th-think you’re gonna, um. What if you make me come?” 

The way Heeseung stares down at him is devastating, earnest and dark, skin flushed and lips swollen, bright red, glistening. His necklaces sway in front of Jake’s face with his movements, and the bed creaks underneath them. “Good,” he whispers. “I’m ready.” Then he’s rucking Jake’s shirt up to his chest and kissing down his abs, nipping at his skin as he gets lower, and lower, and fuck. 

“Fuck. Are you sure? Heeseung,” Jake gasps, hips twitching when Heeseung pulls Jake’s waistband down enough for his hard dick to smack against his abs. 

Heeseung’s breath is hot, fanning over sensitive skin as he leans down between Jake’s legs. “I can’t hold back anymore.” 

Jake splutters. This is so sudden. What will he do when Heeseung’s gone? Cope? Move on and heal? Yeah, right. He doesn’t want Heeseung to stop, though. He’s conflicted, and he should say something but it’s too late because Heeseung is taking the base of his cock into his hand and licking a stripe up the underside, swirling his wet, perfectly pink tongue around the head. 

Jake curls his fingers into Heeseung’s hair and tugs, thighs shaking, ribs jumping with stuttered breaths. 

Heeseung smiles lazily. His teeth sparkle. Then his teeth are nowhere to be seen or even felt because Heeseung is so goddamn good with his mouth, sucking Jake in, flicking his skilled tongue around his dick. He’s gorgeous; his healthy, soft lips are wrapped around Jake and his doe eyes peer through dark lashes, attentive, gauging Jake’s reactions. And his mouth is the best thing Jake has ever felt. It’s hot and tight, applying a blissful pressure, the seal of his lips perfect, and his tongue is eager, hungry; it’s filthy, desperate. Like… like this is his last meal. 

Jake tosses his head back, moans freely falling from his lips. He’s struggling to keep his hips still as Heeseung goes down on him, struggling to keep from pushing Heeseung down farther. 

But Heeseung takes it upon himself; he sinks down all the way on Jake’s dick, gagging quietly around the tip before pulling off with a disgusting, sloppy suction noise. 

“Oh my god!” Jake groans. 

“Feel good?”

Jake can’t even explain it, how good it feels. He’s hot all over, sweat making his clothes cling to his skin and his fringe stick to his forehead, and electrifying pleasure is winding tight inside him like a rubber band about to pop. He wants to come so badly, but he wants even more to let Heeseung inside him. “So good,” he says, tugging up on Heeseung’s hair to pull him away from his dick. “Please, I want more.” 

“More?” Heeseung teases, sitting up to finish dragging Jake’s pants down and tossing them across the room. “Hmm. What more could I give you?” 

Jake pouts, grabbing a fistful of Heeseung’s sweatshirt and pulling him back down over his body. “Fuck me, Heeseung. I’ve been wanting this for so long. Please.” 

Heeseung takes a deep breath, then exhales into Jake’s mouth when he leans down to kiss him, licking eagerly between his lips and flooding his senses with the tastes of sugar, mint, and his own precum. He refuses to separate from Jake as he stretches his arm and feels around clumsily for the handle of Jake’s nightstand drawer, yanks it open, and rummages around for the lube. 

Jake’s hands claw their way up Heeseung’s back, dragging the material of his sweatshirt up, shaking with his hunger for more. He whines in frustration, biting into Heeseung’s lip until Heeseung pulls away and lifts the offending garment over his head. 

“You’re so hot,” Jake says, and it sounds more like a complaint than a compliment. “Why do all the hot people have to die?” 

Heeseung laughs breathlessly, popping the lube open and squirting a generous amount onto his fingers. “You’re not dead, are you? That’d be a plot twist.” 

“I don’t think so—” Jake’s breath hitches when Heeseung’s finger rubs over his hole, circles it, and applies a promising pressure that has his legs falling open, his hole fluttering. 

“Tell me if anything hurts.” That’s the only warning Jake gets before Heeseung’s thick, long finger is plunging inside him. He winces at the initial sting of being stretched, but relaxes at the soothing hand gliding up and down his thigh, the press of lips against his knee. 

Heeseung takes his time to work Jake open. He whispers praises, gazing down the perfect slope of his nose with eyes like a summer night sky, fucking his fingers into Jake in a way that’s calculated and careful. The tendons in his wrist flex under his ridiculous mass of bracelets, and if Jake wasn’t so wound up, stuffed full of fingers, and mesmerized by the glistening film of sweat over Heeseung’s skin and the adoration in Heeseung’s eyes, he’d laugh at how fitting the anal bracelet is in this situation. 

It’s winter, but it’s summer. Jake can almost hear the whisper of healthy leaves swaying above, water lapping at the pilings of a dock and the hard plastic of a canoe, birdsong, old wooden structures croaking in the wind; the ambient sounds of the city are long gone. The air is damp and hot, folding over them in a heavy veil. Jake can smell sunscreen, freshly cut watermelon, and fresh forest air. He can smell Heeseung. 

Jake feels like his heart is going to burst out of his chest. This is it. Just as a life flashes before one’s eyes, Jake sees his moments with Heeseung as if on a spinning reel of film. He feels everything he’s ever felt with Heeseung at once, and the shocking heat of it all crashes over him when Heeseung rubs the pad of his finger against his prostate. 

“Fuck,” he chokes out, arching tight against the bed and scraping fresh red lines over Heeseung’s firm shoulders. It feels amazing having his rim stretched around three thick fingers, throbbing and dripping wet. He’s soaking the sheets under his ass—and his pillow, he’s drooling—and he doesn’t care. “Heeseung, I need you. I need you so bad, oh my god. Please give it to me.” 

Heeseung curses under his breath, fingers twitching inside Jake. “Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You’re hurting me by not putting your fucking cock in my ass. Now, please” he begs, pulling at Heeseung’s shoulders and making him stumble forward, hand coming down beside Jake’s head and hip bone digging into Jake’s thigh. 

“Christ. Okay, okay.” Heeseung complies, talking through an amused smirk as he pulls his fingers out with a quiet squelch. “So needy.” 

Jake huffs. “I wonder why.” 

“Sorry,” Heeseung says. “Sorry.” He kisses up and down Jake’s neck, over the blossoms of purple and blue along his skin. “Sorry.” Kiss. “Sorry.” Bite. “I’m gonna make it up to you, okay? Gonna make you feel so good.” He pulls away, locating the lube again to pour some into his palm, and his hands are shaking, too. Heeseung is just as wound up with pleasure. He quickly shoves his waistband down and works his hand over his dick, wetting it up with slick noises that cause Jake to feel even hotter. Jake lets his eyes flick down for a moment, and Heeseung’s cock is gorgeous, flushed a dusky pink, long and thick, slit drooling precum.

“You better,” Jake mumbles, although he knows for a fact that Heeseung will. Even if Heeseung happens to be bad at sex, even if it hurts, it’ll still feel amazing to have him inside, to take him, the only man Jake wants.

Heeseung hooks a hand under Jake’s knee and pushes it toward his shoulder, staring into his eyes like they’re the only thing he’s ever seen as he lines himself up. His tip nudges against Jake’s rim, a brief warning before he’s shoving his way inside, eyes rolling back at the tightness squeezing around his cock. It’s slow and intense, Heeseung stretching Jake out and stuffing him full inch by inch, so big that Jake thinks he can feel it in his ribs and it’s not even fully inside. As expected, it hurts, a burning friction despite the wet glide of lube, but it’s a pain that Jake likes. He likes it so much more than the alternative ache of emptiness; the pain of Heeseung is so much better than the pain of missing Heeseung. 

“Holy fuck,” Jake whimpers, pulling Heeseung closer by his hair and shoulder, wrapping a leg around Heeseung’s waist and pressing his heel against the small of Heeseung’s back. 

Heeseung pauses, dick throbbing against Jake’s walls, only halfway inside. “Hurts?” 

Jake nods and realizes he’s crying when a hot tear drips down his cheek. “But— no,” he cries out as Heeseung begins to pull out, digging his fingernails into his shoulder. “Don’t stop. Keep going.” 

Heeseung’s eyebrows furrow. “If it hurts—” 

“It hurts good. I fucking need you.” 

“Okay. Fuck. I need you, too.” Heeseung presses back inside with more force than before, dropping over Jake’s body to kiss wetly at his jaw. His hip digs painfully into Jake’s thigh, and his body heat makes Jake feel like he’s being boiled alive, but it’s all secondary to Heeseung’s cock making room for itself in Jake’s body, to Heeseung’s dark, velvety groan as he finally bottoms out. 

Jake tosses his head back, lips parted around a frantic gasp for air and cheeks soaked with tears. He’s overcome with searing pleasure, flames licking around his nerves, blood simmering.

“My god, Jake. You feel so good around my cock,” Heeseung says, nosing at Jake’s cheek, breath fanning so close to his mouth. It’s the only thing Jake ever wants to breathe again. 

Jake whines and crashes their mouths together, shoving his tongue into the delicious, soaking wet heat of Heeseung’s mouth. 

Heeseung responds eagerly, groaning into the kiss, rolling his hips into Jake. The kiss is mostly tongue and heated breaths. They savor each other and swap spit until they both taste exactly the same, until drool drips down Jake’s chin and smears up to Heeseung’s nose. Then Heeseung drags his wet, swollen lips down Jake’s neck, buries his face there, pulls his hips back, and thrusts in hard and deep. 

Jake fully wails, nearly choking on his and Heeseung’s saliva as pleasure shocks him up to his throat and down to his feet. 

“Gonna rail you, Jake,” Heeseung says, hot and tingling against Jake’s skin. And he doesn’t hold back. He fucks into Jake with wild intensity and skillful precision, fast and deep, cockhead dragging relentlessly into Jake’s prostate with each thrust inside, pressing deep inside. The entire bed shakes against the wall, which is unfortunate for the neighboring dorm, but not as unfortunate as Jake’s loud, pornographic sobs and moans. 

“Sound so pretty,” Heeseung groans. “Fuck. So good. Perfect for me.” His praise pours down Jake’s body like a torrent of rain in a devastating storm of bliss.

It’s too much, too good. Jake is already hurtling toward his orgasm, tight pleasure squeezing at his groin and sticky, sweet warmth building under his skin, body writhing and trembling like it doesn’t know what to do with it all. “Hee,” he screams, nails cutting red down Heeseung’s back when Heeseung thrusts particularly hard, hips slapping against Jake’s ass with a force that could bruise. 

“Yeah? Good?” 

“Too good! S’ too much. Ah, fuck.” Jake wiggles his way up the bed until his head hits the headboard, whimpering as Heeseung’s thrusts refuse to relent. 

Heeseung smiles tiredly and drags Jake back down by the thighs, manhandling him with ease. “Where are you going?” 

“Gonna— fu-uck— gonna come— too fast,” Jake whines. 

“Aww. Pretty, sensitive baby,” Heeseung coos, showing Jake mercy by slowing his thrusts, leaving Jake’s pleasure suspended close to its peak, so close to pouring over. 

Jake can feel every thread of his sheet clinging to his skin, every drop of sweat rolling down his neck. “I don’t want us to end.” His lips tremble around the words, and he can taste the salt of his tears. 

“We won’t, right?” Heeseung flutters his lashes against Jake’s cheek, unlatches one of Jake’s hands from his back and interlaces their fingers. They slot perfectly together. Lock and key. “You said you’d carry me with you forever.” 

“I will,” Jake whispers. He squeezes his eyes shut as Heeseung grinds just right inside him, forcing more tears down his cheeks. 

Heeseung smiles, although his own eyes gleam with unshed tears, and pins Jake’s hand next to his head, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I love you, Jake. If I have to die, at least the last thing I’ll be is yours.” 

“Don’t do this to me.” Jake sniffles and it sounds pathetic. “Don’t leave. I’m in love with you. I’ll never love anyone else.” 

“Shh, don’t say that, baby. Just relax and feel good for me, okay?” 

Jake nods meekly, although his chest aches. 

Heeseung keeps his hand in Jake’s, warm and grounding, and picks up his pace again. He doesn’t just fuck Jake, he makes love to him. He feels Jake just as much as he makes Jake feel, pressing his full weight into him, focusing on bringing him as much pleasure as he can. His breath stutters against Jake’s neck, seeping through skin, straight into Jake’s bloodstream. His cock pounds so hard and deep into Jake’s ass that, if Jake looked down, he would probably see where the tip pushes against his abdomen. 

Jake holds Heeseung like his strength could defeat death itself, pulling him as close as possible, unwilling to let his warmth go. His sounds are nonsensical at this point, incoherent babbling and whining and moaning, but Heeseung comforts him as if he knows what he’s saying. 

He’s right there. He’s dizzy with bliss. It’s summer and Heeseung is his and he’s drowning with him. 

Heeseung wraps a big, loving hand around Jake’s dick and strokes, once, twice, and Jake comes with a broken cry, muscles quaking and cum shooting all over Heeseung’s chest and abdomen. It feels like the end of the world, sky shattering and ground sinking as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes over him. Heeseung’s cock is still hitting deep inside, milking his orgasm until he feels like he’ll never breathe properly again. 

“Don’t leave me,” he sobs as he comes down, grabbing at Heeseung’s arm and back and hair, squeezing Heeseung’s hand with a bruising grip. 

Heeseung’s breath is ragged and his thrusts are erratic, but he manages to say, “I’m right here. Right here, baby.” 

“Come inside me. Please. Fill me up,” Jake pleads. 

With one last thrust, Heeseung stills, growling into Jake’s neck as hot, thick cum gushes into Jake’s body. He’s shaking, too, chest heaving from the exertion. 

Jake tugs on Heeseung’s hair until he looks up. 

Heeseung looks beautiful, blooming with warm color, eyelashes glittering with tears, lips bright red and raw, hair the messiest it’s ever been, falling in endearing curls along the sides of his face and frizzy wisps across his forehead. He looks just how Jake feels. 

If only this beauty could live forever. If only Heeseung didn’t have to disappear. 

Heeseung pulls out with a low groan, then rolls onto his back and tugs Jake on top of him. 

Jake snuggles close, feeling every bit of Heeseung’s body he can reach before the inevitable is to take it all away. 

Minutes later, Heeseung’s chest is still rising and falling under Jake’s cheek. His warmth is still here. He’s still here. 

“Um,” Jake rasps, then clears his throat. “How does this… finishing your business thing work?” 

Heeseung shrugs and kisses the top of Jake’s head. “Maybe it’s loading. Or it’s— wait— no— I think it’s happening…”

✧

Two days later, Jake’s life is coming back together. His room is clean. He’s talking to his friends again. His counselor has him on the right track to make up for his failed classes. He doesn’t even have to jerk off all day anymore. 

It’s like he was caught up in a monstrous storm that consumed all of his thoughts, but now the rain is gone and the air is still. Everything is much clearer. 

In the end, it’s all gone to plan. Except… 

“Can we get a puppy?” Heeseung asks. He’s sitting on Jake’s lap, wearing Jake’s biggest pair of sweatpants and Jake’s biggest sleep shirt. 

Jake rolls his eyes, but he can’t hide his smile. “We live in a dorm, baby.” 

“I know that! I’ll help you hide it when the RA comes by. Please? Animals can see ghosts, you know.” 

Jake shakes his head. “You don’t need a puppy. You have me.” 

“But I don’t want to become a burden.” 

“You never will. I promise.” 

Yes. Heeseung is still with Jake, somehow. Apparently his theory was incorrect. 

✧

It’s summer, 2022. The dock is rebuilt. Jake’s feet sway just above the water, toes barely sweeping against it. His ankle calls him a slut every time he stretches his legs out. Heeseung’s feet glide through the water easily, fully submerged. 

Jake convinced his friends to come back to camp. It’s a nice escape, and Heeseung missed it. 

“I think I realized something, Jake.” 

“Yeah?” Jake prompts. He leans his weight back against his palms, turning to look at Heeseung’s gorgeous profile. The sun kisses the bridge of Heeseung’s nose, embraces the apples of his cheeks, tangles itself in his wind-blown hair, just as in love with him as Jake is. 

Heeseung nods slowly. His eyes flutter shut as he faces the sun, a beautiful flower, petal pink lips shimmering. “My unfinished business wasn’t to get you laid. The last thing I said was that I would help you get laid. But it wasn’t the last thing I thought.” 

“What was the last thing you thought?” 

“I thought… about how precious you were. And I thought about how I wanted to take care of you. How you were the type of person I’d want to be with until the end.” 

“Heeseung…” Jake whispers, vision blurry with joyful tears. “This whole time??? And you’re just now telling me?! I’m going to fucking kill you.” 

“Good luck with that.”