Hwan's apartment
Kiss me on my dumb face.
Could it be I'm your taste?
-- Younger Hunger, Fangs
The closer he got to Hwan’s house, the more heads started to turn in his direction. Even though he was in a completely different part of the tunnels, people were still interested in him—they knew he didn’t belong here. Eyes tracked him as he turned corners and went down passageways, monitoring his every step. Was this the neighborhood watch? Even inside Hwan’s building, residents paid close attention to Theodore. He almost stopped to ask them what the big idea was, but ultimately decided against antagonizing an entire faction. No one had prevented him from walking straight over to Hwan’s door, after all. If they had a problem with that, they didn’t utter a word.
Hwan welcomed him with a smile and a small hello. When Theodore walked in, memories flooded his mind with the last time he’d been here; Marquis trailing kisses down his stomach, Hwan pressing up against him. This time, the apartment was much better illuminated, with more than a single lamp on, but his eyes still fell on the dining table first, where Hwan had laid him down and Marquis had climbed on top. His pulse raced, feet absently walking in.
The sound of the door clicking shut whipped him around only to find Hwan smiling back at him. This wasn’t last Friday and nothing would happen; he could relax. Part of him deflated at the thought, while the other part sighed with relief. Still, the general consensus was disappointment. Getting off was always preferable to not doing it.
“I hope I didn’t come off as angry or bitter earlier,” Hwan started. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad for hanging out with him, or to imply that our friendship is dying because of it. I’ve just been… hearing things. You know, through the grapevine.”
“Through the grapevine.” He nodded. “I’m not here out of pity, dude; I’m here because I wanted to see you. You’re my friend and I feel like I haven’t been giving you much of my time lately. I’m sorry about that.”
“That’s not true at all.”
Hwan started toward the kitchen, so he followed. The lights gave him an opportunity to check out the rest of this floor; the green-coded kitchen area and the warm tones in the living room. It was a nice place, infinitely bigger than Laith’s. This was an actual apartment, not a hotel room with a kitchen.
“I’m not high-maintenance,” Hwan commented. He spoke while walking to the fridge and pulling it open. “People shouldn’t feel obliged to hang out with people they don’t like. Beer?”
“Uh, sure.”
Hwan pulled a six-pack out of the fridge and closed it again.
“I like you, though,” Theodore defended. “I like you a whole lot.”
“I know. I just mean in general.”
He followed Hwan over to the living room, where the six-pack was placed on a squared coffee table. It was equidistant from the couch, the armchair and the dresser below the TV, in the space between them, over a thick rug. Most of the furniture, as well as the floors, were made of wood, which gave the apartment a very cozy feel to it.
Hwan leaned over the coffee table and tore the six-pack open, which allowed Theodore to notice a small, intricate wooden box nearby. It was beautiful. Caught in a sort of trance, he knelt down and dragged it over, fingers eager to pull the lid open. Inside, he found a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, a baggie, some pills and colorful squares of paper. The hissing of the opened can was background noise as he picked up the plastic bag with the pills and brought it closer for inspection. They looked like candy, colorful, in different shapes; a teddy bear, a skull, a heart, a Route 66 sign.
“You can take one, if you want,” Hwan offered, sitting next to him.
“What is it?”
“Ecstasy.”
Theodore stared at him. “What does it do?”
Hwan hummed thoughtfully, sipping on his beer. His left arm came up for it, and exposed by the lack of a jacket, it was possible to see the tattoos etched into his skin—another reminder of last Friday. Theodore looked at the deer on his forearm, at the snake that wrapped around his biceps, and let his eyes trail across Hwan’s chest where only vague shapes came to mind, memories infused with pleasure.
“Makes you feel in love, I guess,” Hwan answered.
Theodore glanced at the pills again, then at the box below. “I doubt you need them,” he mumbled.
“With what I’ve been hearing, you probably don’t need them either.”
His pulse faltered. “Yeah, you’re right. He’s my boyfriend now.” He placed the baggie back in its place, hand wandering over to the cigarette pack next. He didn’t take it.
“I thought you said he didn’t do relationships.”
“He doesn’t.” His eyes met Hwan’s. “I’m not his boyfriend.”
A dark eyebrow raised. “How does that work?”
“I don’t know, but it means something—it has to. I’ve wanted this for so long… I’m not letting him slip away on semantics. He’s my boyfriend and that’s what matters.”
“You’re dating him, but he’s not dating you.”
He shrugged. His fingers traced the edges of the cigarette pack.
“Is he seeing other people?” Hwan asked.
“No. I’m not forbidding him or anything—he just isn’t. It’s his choice.”
“You don’t sound too excited about it.”
“I am excited. I’ve been waiting my whole life for this.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
He scowled down at the box, lips pursing. In the silence of the room, his ears echoed the beating of his own heart. “It just feels like nothing’s enough. I keep taking and taking, but nothing’s enough. I’ll bleed him dry and I’ll still want more. Makes me wonder if the cruelty’s worth it.”
“What’s missing?”
A knot closed around his throat. Memories of every time he’d wanted to hold Laith’s hand and be held in return choked him. He thought of when Marquis had taken Hwan’s hand, and out of instinct, Hwan had held him back—he burned. He wanted to tear his hair out and scream. What if, after the last drop of blood, he found out there was nothing left? That turning Laith’s guts inside out had only yielded him gore, that he’d never find what he’d been looking for because Laith simply didn’t have it in him to love him back. Not truly, not really—all Theodore had ever gotten had been out of violence, because he’d fought for it, not because Laith had wanted him to have it.
He glanced at Hwan’s hand. So close, yet so far; so similar, yet so different—a shaky breath filled his lungs. “I can’t tell you what’s missing, because I don’t know what’s supposed to be there in the first place. I don’t know what a relationship looks like; I’ve never been in one. What are boyfriends supposed to do?”
“They’re supposed to talk through their feelings and find ways to make things work.”
Their eyes met. Suddenly, he felt like shit. “Sorry for bringing this to you; I should’ve taken it to him. We can talk about something else now. How’s Marquis doing?”
A very soft smile curled Hwan’s lips. “Why don’t we experiment a little bit? Pretend we’re dating. What would you want to say to me?”
Nothing immediately came to mind. Actually, there was only one thing he’d want to do. With his heart in his mouth, he reached over and touched Hwan’s fingers. “Would you hold my hand?”
Hwan’s response was to place the beer on the coffee table and reach for him, forearm resting on a knee. Their palms met like a handshake that never happened, fingers pushing on the back of their hands, the same way Laith had held him in the lake. A thumb swiped across his skin, caressing his knuckles. It was enough to falter his breathing.
“What do you wanna tell me?” Hwan pushed.
His hand was warm. Mesmerized, all Theodore could do was stare at it, as if he’d never seen one before. He squeezed a bit. “I don’t know if I have anything to say.”
“You’re clearly thinking of something.”
“Just…” He shook his head. “How simple this is, I guess. I don’t know. It’s such a small thing, but…” His shoulders bounced, words vanishing from his lips. “Is this how it’s supposed to be?” he asked.
“This isn’t the full picture. Why don’t you choose something mundane for us to do boyfriend style?”
A tentative smile formed on his face. “Okay, like what?”
“Like choosing what to wear or making dinner. Stuff you do every day.”
Hm. He had a feeling that, for this experiment to work, he’d have to choose something he’d done with Laith, a good basis for comparison. Unfortunately, neither of those options was viable, but he had something else in mind.
“How about watching a movie?”
His suggestion got a big grin in reply.
“That’s perfect. C’mon.” Hwan spoke while getting up, head nodding towards the couch. The hand that gripped Theodore’s helped him up, and still holding onto one another, they took their seats. What he didn’t realize was that, even though he was only a couple of inches away from Hwan, he’d still sat too far from him. A small tug prompted him to scoot even closer, so Hwan could throw an arm across his shoulders and pull him into a cuddle. It was immediately perfect—the first thing he felt were fingers in his hair, playing with it, twirling his locks, touching his ear. It prompted the rest of his body to relax against Hwan’s frame and shift around to get comfortable. Without even really thinking about it, he buried his face into Hwan’s neck and cradled his hand against his chest, holding it with both of his own. His fingers absently traced the bumps of Hwan’s knuckles, lungs full of a very delicate scent, fresh like the ocean, rich like summer. It reminded him of a sunset.
Already, this was wildly different from how things went with Laith. Sure, they’d cuddled before, but never like this. Intimacy just wasn’t his thing. He seemed to only do it out of necessity, not because it came as second nature to him. In fact, it didn’t. If Theodore wanted hands in his hair, he’d have to ask for it. He doubted the thought had ever even crossed Laith’s mind.
“Can I ask you something?” His voice was small, almost fearful.
“Of course.”
“Was Qasim very… physical with you? Like, did he hold your hand and touch your hair and stuff?”
Hwan’s head slowly shook. “We weren’t out at the time, so we couldn’t be too close. I knew my parents wouldn’t care, but you know, we had neighbors who went to school with us. We didn’t want a fight.”
“What about when you were alone?”
“Um, well…” A deep breath filled Hwan’s lungs. “We were close in our own way. It was the sort of thing we figured out together, since we’d never been with anyone before.”
Theodore chewed the inside of his cheek, absorbed in thought. “Do you think maybe that was just how he was? Maybe no one told him he was supposed to hold hands with his boyfriend and hug his friends, or maybe he knew, but he just—it’s just not part of who he is. I’m sure it’s not his friends’ fault; if they’ve never asked for a hug, how could he possibly know they wanted one? He doesn’t even hug his parents, the people who love him most in the world—why would he hug his friends?”
Hwan’s silence prompted him to keep going.
“I wouldn’t blame him, I mean… do we even know what he wants? He’s probably dying to hug someone, but because no one’s ever offered him a hug, he never thought—he never thought he could just give one, you know? Or—or ask for one. I don’t think it’s his fault that his mom never told him this. If she’d hugged him, maybe…” He trailed off. His thoughts were so tangled that he wasn’t even sure who he was talking about anymore. Was this about Qasim at all? The arm around him hugged him closer, Hwan’s nose buried in his hair—he felt it brush gently through his locks, Hwan’s breathing even and warm.
“It’s okay,” Hwan whispered. “You’re alright.”
Still wearing a slight scowl on his forehead, Theodore let himself fall silent. The comfort of Hwan’s embrace, warm like a summer afternoon, mixed a calm feeling—the belief everything would be alright—with the hectic thought patterns of his brain, unable to be turned off. Overhauling it was impossible. Instead, he relaxed against Hwan’s chest with a hand in his hair and conflicting messages in his brain. If everything was alright, how come sirens blared in his mind? If sirens blared in his mind, how come everything was alright? Frustrated, he breathed in deeply and closed his eyes.
He didn’t fall asleep. His thoughts were stuck on Laith and his discomfort with physical closeness, shocked when Emily—his best friend—had hugged him last weekend. Was it that she didn’t hug anyone, or only him? Was the answer simply yes? While Laith seemed to prefer to keep his distance, Theodore craved the attention, the contact, the affection. Hwan held him tight and he melted, enveloped in his care, even if fabricated. It didn’t matter; it felt good all the same. It felt exactly how it was supposed to. The hug Theodore had given Justin in the subway—he understood it now; it’d been the need to show his friend that he cared for him. Justin already knew that, but he’d had to express it. It was about him.
That was it, the key to everything—how much he needed to express himself, but didn’t know how. Words flowed easily on a page, but failed to leave his mouth. If he learned to communicate without them, there was a chance he would finally be understood. The dilemma then became how to show that he cared to someone who didn’t like to be touched.
“If you weren’t close, how did you show him how much you cared?” he asked.
“Oh, everything I did was a love letter to him. I listened when he talked and made little sacrifices for him, like going somewhere he really wanted to go, or spending an afternoon in silence because he didn’t feel like talking, just staring at the lake. Being there, I guess, is really how I told him I loved him every day.”
Laith’s words echoed in his mind, when they’d first met up at Ryan’s new address—I only came up because you wanted to see me. Hadn’t Laith been showing that he cared this entire time? Performing his affection, acting it out. How had Theodore not noticed that? His heart hammered. Suddenly, he moved up to look Hwan in the face, wide-eyed and wild. “Can we talk about something else?” His words stumbled over one another, rushing out of his mouth. It startled Hwan a bit, but he managed not to show it very much. Instead, he simply pulled Theodore back into the embrace and held him.
***
While affection healed his soul and soothed his beating heart, given enough time, it started to affect him in different ways. He loved the hand in his hair, but what if it pulled? The arm across his shoulders brought him peace, but what if it shoved his face into the couch? As the movie progressed, his eyes began to wander—from Hwan’s neck, down his chest, down his stomach. His jeans made it impossible to tell an outline from a shadow, but Theodore’s endeavors weren’t all fruitless; Hwan’s shirt was just tight enough that he could enjoy a different sight. A tentative hand touched his chest, feeling the print that covered it, some band he’d never heard of. Unable to look Hwan in the face, tucked under his chin, he let his hand trail down Hwan’s stomach.
“How realistic is this boyfriend experience?” His voice was low, clearly teasing—a whisper pressed against Hwan’s neck.
Fingertips ran across the shaved portion of his head. “As realistic as it gets.”
That was all he needed to hear. His hand dropped to the front of Hwan’s pants and grabbed it, feeling him through the fabric, squeezing a bit. The body underneath him stirred, clutching his head against the curve of Hwan’s neck.
“Is that what you want?” Hwan asked.
“It’s for educational purposes,” he explained, lips on Hwan’s skin. “I need guidance.”
“Oh?”
He pulled away just enough to stare Hwan in the face; his dark eyes were curious, clouded over with feeling. It reminded him of the time before, the way Hwan had looked at him then, nose buried just behind Marquis’ ear. He’d stolen glances from behind Marquis’ hair, eyes peeking through pink locks to look at Theodore, watching him from above.
“Can you coach me? You know, tell me how I’m doing.” His hand unbuttoned Hwan’s pants as he talked, pulling the zipper down. “I’ve never deep-throated before.”
That comment put the ghost of a smile on Hwan’s lips, somewhere between doubtful and confused, but still entertained. He raised his hips to let Theodore tug on his pants, just enough for access. “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious.”
His hand closed around Hwan’s cock out of instinct, stroking it slowly, starting off easy. He didn’t even think about it; his attention was honed in on Hwan’s face, the depths of his eyes, darker than the night. It was only this close that he could make out where his pupils ended and his irises began, a shade or two lighter. In the low-light, Hwan’s pupils were massive. Was this how lovers looked at each other? Driven by an impulse, Theodore leaned over and landed a kiss on Hwan’s mouth, strong enough to sink his head into the backrest of the couch. It was only an inch, but still. A hand clasped on the back of his head and pulled him close.
Kissing Hwan was different. He couldn’t exactly pin-point how, though; it was a feeling, deep inside of him, that gestured to a glaring object that he couldn’t see, like a neon sign flashing no vacancy behind a massive billboard. His entire being pointed at it with great confidence, as if it were obvious, but standing on the side of the road, he failed to see it. He saw the billboard, though—the enthusiasm with which Hwan met his tongue and held him in it—but that was all. Even if he couldn’t read the sign, he knew that, should he ever find himself kissing both of his lovers blindfolded, he’d easily be able to tell them apart.
By the time he actually went down on Hwan, he had a couple of things to keep in mind: first, to focus on his breathing, and second, to only go as far as he could without his gag reflex kicking in. Apparently, it varied from person to person; some of them could even take the whole thing in without gagging. Of course it depended on the size, but still. The trick was to hum as he did it, so his throat would open up, allowing for an easier time and—hopefully—more inches. Also, if he kept moving, he wouldn’t choke. It blew his mind to know that choking and gagging weren’t required for this; he’d been doing it this whole time for nothing. On second thought, maybe Laith liked it; the struggle could be part of what did it for him.
The moment he hummed down Hwan’s cock, he noticed a huge difference, how much further he was able to go. It was almost comfortable; the constant movement let him breathe and the rhythmic humming kept him focused. Almost absently, he picked up a time signature where his head went down for the first two beats, moved up for the next two, and let him breathe for the last two. It came to him as naturally as practicing an instrument; the repetition of a handful of movements with room to improve. He’d like to believe that, each time he went down, his craft was perfected.
Eventually, he upped it to a time signature with only one beat for breath. That one didn’t last very long. It was quick and fun, but wore him out much faster; soon enough, his jaw began to ache. He’d be damned if he quit before swallowing those last couple of inches, though. A little bit of extra effort accounted for them, which killed the comfort he’d grown accustomed to, but it wasn’t too bad. He could do it.
This entire time, he’d been so focused that he hadn’t even kept an eye on Hwan’s reaction. It was only when he considered quitting that he glanced up to see Hwan’s head tilted back, bottom lip seized between his teeth and his eyes shut. The crease between his eyebrows was very light, a secret—the sight hit Theodore straight in the crotch. With renewed determination, he held himself through his jeans and doubled his efforts. Sure, his jaw hurt, but he’d put up with worse; he just had to get back into it. His eyes closed, mind growing focused.
Everything went well until a hand touched the back of his head. His reaction was involuntary; his body moved before he could even think about it. Fear washed over him like a bucket of ice-cold water, straightening him up right away, hand coming up to swat Hwan’s hand off of him. His heart raced, eyes wide. Panicking, he almost fell off the couch, but Hwan managed to grab him just before he lost balance with tight grips on his arms.
“Jesus,” Hwan whispered. It took him a second to relax, hands loosening up a bit. “Be careful.” That last part was only half in jest, spoken with a warm smile. He wasn’t angry?
“Sorry, I don’t—I don’t know what came over me. I was…” He shook his head, pulse slowing down. “Dammit, I was doing so well!”
“You really were. What were you worried about again?”
He made to shove Hwan on the chest, but his attempt was so half-hearted that it ended up turning into a pat. “I’m sorry. Can we—can I try again?”
“If you want to, yeah, but I think it’s time I took care of you.” Hwan’s voice was low, eyes burning as he leaned closer. Suddenly sheepish, Theodore couldn’t answer. His heart skipped, shoulders raising a bit. In silence, he closed his eyes and let Hwan kiss him.
The approach between Hwan and Marquis was as different as night and day. While Marquis was anxious and rough, Hwan was calm and soft; his hands touched Theodore without leaving any marks, grazing his skin as if it were made of porcelain. He lay Theodore down and took him in his mouth, touching his stomach very carefully, one hand warming up his balls. It was as pleasurable as it was a learning experience, how fast his head moved, how far he went, what his tongue did. He took it easy at first, working the head for a while, only adding the shaft later. Theodore’s attention was only there for a moment, though; once Hwan picked up the pace, his mental notes quickly dissipated.
Without thinking, Theodore took the hand over his stomach and held it. What made him take notice of that was Hwan actually holding it back, just how he’d done with Marquis last time, an absent gesture. It tied a knot in Theodore’s throat and stuffed his chest with warmth at the same time. It caught him between adoration—in love with the prospect of being loved back—and resentment, because they could play pretend all day, but at the end of it, Hwan wasn’t actually his. This kind of affection was reserved for somebody else; Theodore was only a thief, spending a couple of hours in somebody else’s identity, liking it a little too much. Why couldn’t Laith be as unapologetically his as Hwan was Marquis’? Alternatively… why couldn’t Hwan be Theodore’s instead? If he looked Theodore dead in the eye right now, with pupils as big as the moon, and asked him to be his boyfriend—fuck Marquis, fuck Laith—Theodore would do it. He’d fucking do it.
Instead, Hwan sucked him off so good that he had to grab his hair and beg him to stop. Unfortunately, by the time he did that, it was already too late; his body jerked and his thighs closed, throat choking on a sound. He shivered, eyebrows drawn hard together as a curse came up his throat, pushing past his clenched teeth.
Hwan only pulled away when the waves grew calmer and his muscles finally slacked, limbs sprawled on the couch. He wanted to hit himself, but was too tired to even do that, resorting to an arm thrown across his forehead. It’d have to do for now. Kneeling between his legs, Hwan brought Theodore’s hand close—the one he’d been holding this whole time—and kissed it. Theodore’s face burst into flames, heart speeding; that was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done to him. He could’ve cried. He even felt his eyes water, but managed to hold it in with a big breath. “Now do you.”
Even though he’d meant that to be assertive and sexy, it didn’t exactly come off that way; his voice was too quiet, too soft, full of emotion. Still, Hwan complied, closing a hand around himself with a smirk on his face.
“You wanna watch me?”
“Yeah.”
Hwan’s smirk widened, hand picking up speed. It was mesmerizing to watch the head disappear into his fist only to poke out again. Theodore stared in silence, hand squeezing Hwan’s other one, still locked together. If it was up to him, he’d never let it go.
When Hwan began to pant, Theodore flipped over. His knees pushed onto the couch a bit, back arched to raise his hips, but not too much. He leaned on a forearm, hand tugging on Hwan’s to get him to move closer. “C’mon, do it.”
Sounds of clothes rustling informed him of Hwan’s compliance, knees brushing his legs. The head of his cock touched the entrance, very warm, as Hwan continued to stroke himself; his hand brushed Theodore’s skin on the upstroke. His eyes closed immediately, breath caught in his throat, waiting for it—two heartbeats later, nothing happened. His eyebrows drew together, eyes opening with confusion. The head pressed down again, but still nothing happened; all it did was pull a gasp out of him. Okay, maybe now? Just as the thought hit him, Hwan’s cock slipped past the entrance again. Would Hwan just tease him forever? He hid his face in a hand, bottom lip worried between his teeth. Another touch and nothing, rubbing on him, pushing without going in.
“God,” he breathed. “Just fuck me.”
Still fooling around, Hwan ground on him some more. Even leaning back against the man didn’t change his mind.
“C’mon.” The next tease made him groan, frustrated. “Hwan, please.”
“Please what?”
“Please fuck me, c’mon. C’mon.”
A shot of cum hit the low of his back just before Hwan pushed in, but only the head; he held Theodore in place with a hand, palm splayed across his ass. Theodore instinctively pushed against him, but Hwan kept him at bay, fingers digging into his cheek. It stung really good, pulling a hiss out of him, skin on fire. He would’ve asked Hwan to slap him, but this was already better. If only he’d go a step further and fuck him—ugh, this was the worst. He’d never wanted something so bad, frustration rising in his chest. He closed his free hand and huffed, still trying to push against Hwan. Cum dripped down his balls.
“I hate you,” he mumbled, hand squeezing Hwan’s.
It squeezed his back. “I’m sorry. Hey.” A hand touched his hip, followed by more rustling. Hwan’s crotch grazed his ass just before a kiss landed on the side of his head. “I’ll make it up to you next time.”
Those last two words echoed in his mind like a promise. He turned his head to glance at Hwan over his shoulder, but the kiss that met his cheek shut his eyes, lips grinning. “I hate you!” he practically laughed.
The next kiss was planted on his shoulder.
He flipped over and lay on his back, so Hwan got comfortable on top of him, propped up on both elbows, big arms at each side of Theodore’s body. He had a spooky design on his chest, near-incomprehensible; a skeleton-like creature forming out of black fog, wearing it like a hood. Smaller tattoos surrounded that one, quotes here and there, numbers and letters. None of those were on his stomach, though. Theodore touched his collar bone.
“Did he do that to you?” Hwan’s question was very quiet. It pulled Theodore’s gaze up to meet Hwan’s, the seriousness there, almost pained. What was he talking about? Just as he opened his mouth to ask, he remembered the bruises that colored his ass purple, up and down the back of his thighs. He’d grown so used to the constant ache that he’d almost forgotten about it. It was part of him now.
He smirked. “Pretty, isn’t it? He’s kind of an artist. Talented, too.”
Dark eyebrows bounced. “Oh, so it’s like that.”
“What, you thought he beat the shit out of me? I would’ve done the same back to him.”
“I just didn’t know you were into that.”
“Are you?”
“Not really, but it does look nice on you.”
His fingers trailed up Hwan’s neck, soft on his skin, warm. “Don’t you wanna meet up with him?” he asked. His voice was sweet on purpose, a quiet hum that sounded like a caress, in hopes it’d keep the topic from triggering a bad reaction. Laith had already fought him over this; he didn’t need to go through that a second time.
Hwan’s shoulders tensed up, but his overall response was still a much more favorable one. His eyebrows furrowed. “What for?” Despite the topic, he still mimicked the softness of Theodore’s tone, clearly trying to be careful—they both walked on eggshells around each other.
Theodore moved his shoulders into a minute shrug, fingers grazing the bottom of Hwan’s skull, the short hairs there. If he threw in something soothing, he hoped it’d keep the man calm. So far, it’d been a success. “I just think you could benefit from it. Both of you, I mean. I have a feeling he wants to tell you something, and vice versa, but there have been no opportunities for that. I could be the mediator.”
“He wants to talk to me?”
“I think so.”
Dark eyes dropped for a moment, engulfed in thought. “Do you know what he has to say?”
“If I did, it would defeat the purpose of delivering you this message. You’ll have to hear it from him.”
Hwan took that into consideration, head nodding slowly. “I thought he didn’t want to see me.”
“That’s just something you keep telling each other. I know you wanna see him too.”
“I don’t like looking at him. It hurts.”
“Then let it hurt you.”
Their eyes met. Hwan watched him under a scowl, eyebrows drawn upwards, uncertain.
“You have to tell him how much it hurts, or you’ll never heal,” Theodore continued. “He has to know.”
“He already does.”
“No, he really doesn’t. He doesn’t have any idea. He doesn’t even know how Qasim died.”
Dark eyes glanced off to the side, reluctant. Theodore touched the side of his face to bring him back, thumb swiping over his cheek.
“If I set up a meeting, will you go see him?”
Hwan hesitated. He kept his eyes down, jaw set. The hand on his face moved to the back of his head, fingers brushing across his short hairs to reach his longer ones.
“Please?” Theodore insisted.
“I haven’t spoken to him—really spoken to him since…”
“The jacket?”
A small nod was his response. Hwan’s bottom lip quivered, pursed a little bit. It compelled Theodore to pull him into a hug, cradling his head against his chest, holding him tight. He briefly wished this was a constant in his life, that he was able to come over and hold Hwan just like this every night, soothing his soul, kissing him better. What had happened wasn’t fair; Hwan had done nothing wrong. Squeezing his shoulders, Theodore leaned over and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.
***
He didn’t want to leave. It hurt to part from Hwan, hands holding one another as they crossed for the front door. He’d only just now gotten used to it; ripping Hwan away from him was cruel. His heart fell heavier and heavier as they approached the door, feet slowing down to a crawl. At one point, he stopped entirely and turned to give Hwan a hug, face buried into his chest, arms wrapped tightly around him. He was much thicker than Justin, stocky and tall. In comparison to Laith, he was only off by an inch.
The arms around him squeezed. “It’s okay.” Hwan spoke into his hair. “I’ll be here if you need me. You can come over any time.”
“Are you just saying that?” His voice was small, muffled by Hwan’s chest.
“No, I mean it.”
Slowly, the hug loosened and broke apart, hands naturally finding one another. Hwan walked him the rest of the way to the door and pulled it open for him. Staring at the empty hallway, Theodore didn’t walk out.
“Can I come over tomorrow?”
“Sure.”
“Will you be busy?”
“I’ll make time for you.”
Their eyes met, heart soaring. A small lean allowed Hwan to give him one last kiss. It was supposed to be quick and chaste, but just as he pulled away, Theodore grabbed his face and pulled him in for another one, harder this time. Hwan smiled into it.
When they parted, he kept close, only an inch away from another kiss. “Will you fuck me next time?” he whispered.
“Maybe. I have to ask Marquis first.”
Oh. That comment pushed him two steps back, body bumping into the door frame. So the game was over, then. They were no longer playing. “You two talked about this?”
“We talked about the possibility, yeah.”
Oh god, he had to leave. His pulse raced, feet removing him from the apartment, walking into the hallway. “Okay, I—uh. I’ll see you later.”
Hwan gave him a look that he thoroughly failed to read. His lips parted, but Theodore turned around before he could speak, dashing for the stairs.
“See you later!”
***
Holy shit, he was so fucking stupid. Of course Hwan wasn’t cheating on his boyfriend; they were the perfect couple! Still, the realization hit him harder than a truck, body mangled under sixteen wheels, guts spilled across the pavement. Did he even want Hwan to be a cheater? No, he just wanted to matter, to be somebody’s first choice. Even if Hwan had been cheating, Theodore still wouldn’t have been his first choice. His chest burned, throat sealed shut.
Walking out of the building, he hit his hand on the door frame. It was on purpose, because he deserved it, a small retribution. It hurt for only a little while, pulsing as he left for the subway. He wanted to jump into the fucking tracks.
He didn’t.
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