Cedilla (Ç)
Title: Cedilla (Ç)
Pairing(s): DooWoon, JunWoon
Rating: R/NC-17
Word Count: 7,717
Summary: Even if it means putting himself into danger, Junhyung finally pursues the man who stole his heart four years ago.
A/N: Sequel to “Ampersand.”
Previous: Ampersand (I recommend reading “Ampersand” first, because if you don’t, you will probably be a little lost. You could probably get away without reading it, though.)
(A/N: Junhyung is younger than Dongwoon in this fic.)
“What is your name?”
Doojoon’s tone is corrosive. We have had this conversation several times before.
“Yoon Dongwoon,” I reply meekly. I know what is coming.
“And what does the ‘Yoon’ in front of that ‘Dongwoon’ mean?”
“……It means-”
“I’ll tell you what it fuckin’ means, since you seem to forget all the damn time. That Yoon means that you belong to me, that’s what it means. Yoon means you are mine. You married me. I’m not Son Doojoon and therefore you don’t get to question me. You will do what I say, when I say. Not when you want to. Not when you feel like it. Because how you feel doesn’t matter. If I tell you to do something-and your name starts with ‘Yoon’-then you had better fuckin’ do it. So if I say put on your goddamn ring, then that means you put on your goddamn ring. I don’t need to give you a goddamn explanation. Now you take your ass into that room, and you find that fuckin’ ring, and you put it on your fuckin’ finger like I fuckin’ told you.”
Doojoon physically slings me towards the room. I almost fall to my knees, but I recover my balance.
…I place myself into these situations.
I go into the room. I find my ring. I put it on my ring finger. The tears falling from my eyes make it easier to slide on.
Doojoon noticed after breakfast that I wasn’t wearing my wedding ring. It struck me, because one, I have always worn my wedding ring. Always. In spite of his infidelity. And the name-calling. And the multifaceted abuse. You would always see me wearing that ring. I promised my life and my love to this man and therefore, I was to wear that ring.
After noticing it missing from my finger, he told me to put it on. I asked him why I should with budding rage. My defiance even surprised me. It also scared me. I have never stood up so boldly to Doojoon since… a very long time ago… but him telling me to wear my ring unconsciously stung me.
He never wore his. I put a ring on his finger the day we were married, too, but we are practically not even married. Our bond isn’t sacred. He doesn’t care for me. He doesn’t care for my feelings. I have no feelings to touch, according to Doojoon. I have no heart to hurt, or love. That was especially true last night and this morning.
I woke up to the sounds of him and Hyunseung having the loudest sex. I cooked them breakfast, because it was expected of me, and I burned myself several times because of my disconnection with my broken body. Hyunseung verbally disrespected my meal and Doojoon didn’t utter a word of protest. Hyunseung was even wearing Doojoon’s bath robe. He told me that he would see me again soon before he left.
I turn to leave the room once my ring has been secured on my finger, and I am immobilized by jagged dots of the coldest coal. Doojoon is looking at me from underneath the doorway. I rally the little courage inside of me to stand in front of him. He will not move; his blockade is purposeful. He is simply standing and staring at me. His face is frighteningly tight. The blackness in his eyes has eclipsed the brown.
“You bring this on yourself, so I don’t know why you’re cryin’. You make me do this shit. You always have to test me. It’s something new every damned day. I don’t wanna have to touch you or yell at you or scream at you, but you just do stuff, Dongwoon. You do and say the dumbest shit to piss me off. I hate looking at you. I hate seeing your face. That’s why I can’t fuck you. You make me sick. You’re aggravating. Stupid and aggravating. You’re the weakest, dumbest fucking person I have ever met. A bitch. A pathetic, little, whining bitch. A worthless fuck.”
I hold my breath until I feel my heart try to consume itself. Doojoon pushes past me to enter the space. Then he enters the bath, then he shuts the door, and then I hear water running.
I collapse to my knees in the doorway. I sit on my legs. His words have placed me in a stupor. I am feeling so many emotions all at once that my body wants to act on all of them, which would likely destroy me.
I wish he would have hit me instead. I wish that every day, instead of hearing him talking bad to me, he would punch or slap or kick or cut me. Only my body would feel the pain that way. My heart wouldn’t. It wouldn’t feel like it was suffocating between the decision to cease and rot or palpitate. Doojoon’s words are the most lethal of poisons that kill at the slowest, anguishing pace. To have and hold that poison in my heart eats me up on the inside.
I want his fists. His hands. I want the jabs of his knees and the strikes of his palms. Anything but his words. Anything but his phonetic knives.
Why does he hate me so much? Where did I go wrong with him?
I would die for Doojoon. I would move heaven and earth for Doojoon if it would please him. All is for him. Everything is his. I’m his. But Doojoon does not want me anymore.
Why are we married, then? Why does he continue to have me around? Why does he make me wear this meaningless ring when the whereabouts of his own ring are anyone’s guess?
Part of me curses myself for rationalizing Doojoon’s behavior this way, but I rejoice in the fact that Doojoon wants others to know that I am his possession. I am Yoon Dongwoon. The only Yoon Dongwoon. I am the bearer of this beautiful ring. I was chosen. And it does not matter who he brings into our home, or who tries to take him from me, I will always be Yoon Dongwoon.
That is my title.
I want to cry but I can’t. I want something to hurt me.
---
I ask Doojoon for permission to go to the market so that I can buy things for dinner. He is on his phone. This means that there will be another guest tonight…
He grants me permission, but I am not yet allowed to leave. His eyes analyze me. They are very slow; the more he analyzes, the more they darken.
“Change those pants,” he says.
I nod, save the inquiries.
I am wearing capris, because the weather has warmed up a bit. I thought I could get by with wearing them, since they are weather-appropriate and more comfortable. Doojoon did not like them, most likely because my calves are showing. Doojoon does not want my skin to show.
I change into longer pants, and I consult Doojoon for his approval. He isn’t on his phone anymore.
Doojoon rises from his chair, stands before me, and the brown in his eyes is yet again endangered by a slate of black. We are both silent for a very long time. I can’t speak unless I am spoken to.
“I don’t want to see you in those pants again. You understand me?”
“Yes, Doojoon.”
“Get rid of ‘em.”
“I will.”
“…”
“……”
“…You’ve been going out quite a lot lately,” Doojoon comments.
“I-I’ve been just going to the market to get food.”
“Who’s fuckin’ you at the market?” he asks me sharply.
“Nobody. I-I’m not doing that, Doojoon.”
“You got a little friend?”
“N… No, Doojoon. There is no one.”
Why is he asking me these questions? He made me push all of my friends away. I have no friends anymore. I have no one. He has monopolized me. I have allowed him to do that. I love him. I haven’t said that to him in a very long time. I wonder what he would do if I said it to him…
“You let me find out who he is, and you and him will be sorry. You’re not gonna fuckin’ disrespect me like that. I’ll fuckin’ kill you both.”
“I would never do that, Doojoon. I love you.” And that came from my heart.
“Yeah, just bring your ass back here in thirty-five minutes. And I want asparagus.”
What did I expect?
“Yes…”
I leave my home, finding myself to be very, very warm, neither by the lengthiness nor the thickness of my cotton clothes. The warmth is compiling within my heart. Warmth is there, because it sensed that Doojoon was displaying jealousy. He cared who I hung around. He didn’t want me to be sexual with anyone else but him, even if he and I aren’t having sex. They are truly conflicting emotions.
Doojoon can have sex with whomever he wants, and I cannot. I can only have sex with Doojoon, but he rarely wants to have sex with me. And I wonder why this is. The only time we have sex is when none of his playmates are available. He is desperate, then. Desperate enough to sleep with me, I guess. Our sex does not last very long. It is not very passionate… It’s more like I am doing him a favor. I am lending my body to him. Then when we are finished, he groans at how terrible I am. He has nothing nice to say to me. He never even kisses me during sex. He never holds me…
That is what hurts the most.
I face the steps…
“Dongwoon?”
The deep call of my name from a stranger’s mouth startles me more than you would think. I spin on my heels very quickly, curious to see who it is that still knows my existence.
Familiar eyes pin me in place. I squint at those eyes, and they return the intensity.
…………………Junhyung?
It is Junhyung?
Sixteen-year-old, next-door-neighbor Junhyung?
“Junhyung?” I silently mouth.
It is him. I see Junhyung smile. He walks up to me. I no longer look down to look at him. I look straight across, and our pupils align.
“Dongwoon? Hyung?” His smile grows. I probably look stupid.
He is definitely not sixteen-years-old anymore. He should be twenty now.
And he has blossomed… significantly. I look him over an infinite amount of times. Time has done wonders…
I was twenty-years-old when we first met. Junhyung was a troubled youth who consequently came from a troubled home. He moved into the apartment across from mine four years ago, and I would check up on him periodically to see if he was doing okay, because he had moved out of his home with his parents to live on his own. It’s amazing how he got the money… He was a skinny thing of very few words; he didn’t open up to me right away, and he didn’t readily receive my help. He found it odd that someone would be genuinely interested in his wellbeing, which I later concluded that no one had ever shown interest in his wellbeing. I wanted to help him. I am a caregiver by heart.
We became very good friends over time. If he needed food, I would give him food. He would have clothes. He would have money. I discovered he had a hobby, and an even more wonderful talent. Junhyung was a beautiful poet. He wrote poems for me all the time, and would become flustered when I asked him to read them to me aloud. But he would. He stumbled here and there, but I got the message…
Doojoon didn’t like me being so involved in his life. I would spend a good bit of my day with Junhyung; I had been seeing about Junhyung before Doojoon and I were married. He found one of the poems Junhyung had written just for me, and told me not to see him again. I disobeyed him twice. I paid the price twice.
The first time, he took the poems Junhyung had given me-had taken the time out of his day to compose-and he burned them in front of me. I burned parts of my hands trying to save them. I could only salvage charred pieces. I cried and cried.
The second time, he beat me. He beat me so bad that I threw up afterward; I ached all weekend and I could barely open my eyes.
Doojoon never says sorry when he beats me, by the way.
Junhyung never saw me again after that second time, and it is so sad, because we live across from one another. How can you never see someone that lives directly across from you? Just four to five steps?
“Look at you,” Junhyung starts, embracing me.
“Junhyung……” Wow. He is………. Wooow.
He pulls back, “How’ve you been?”
“Huh? Oh me? G-Good… I’ve been… I’ve been good…” I’m still ogling him. I’m still looking stupid.
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you… I thought you might’ve moved out or somethin’.”
“No! No I’ve been here!! I’ve… Wow…… It’s… you’re just… wow.”
Junhyung chuckles, and it is so deep.
“Yeah, I’m bigger now.”
“You’re… twenty-years-old?”
“Yep. I turned twenty five months ago.”
“Wooooow…” Four years have really flown by. I’ll be twenty-five in a month. He is not a boy anymore, but a man.
He’s a man.
“And you still look the same,” says Junhyung, and he laughs lightly.
I laugh along with him.
“…It is so good to see you again, Junhyung.”
“The same to you, Woon. S’been a long time.”
Long time… Thirty-five minutes… Doojoon had given me thirty-five minutes, and I have probably burned five here with Junhyung. It will take me ten minutes on foot to get to the market. Fear grips me.
“I-I’m in a hurry, though. I will have to speak with you some other time.”
I start down the steps. Junhyung follows.
“Well where are you going?”
“The market.”
“Then I’ll go with you. I’ve got time.”
I stop, and our eyes meet. We’ve reached the bottom.
“I really don’t think you should…”
Junhyung looks at me. He understands. He sees Doojoon in my eyes.
“Then… At least let me give you my number.”
Before I can say another word, Junhyung has brought out a mini notepad from his back pocket. A pen is hooked in the metal spring. He scribbles his number onto a fresh sheet, rips it out, and hands it to me. I take it carefully.
“Please call me, Dongwoon. Anytime you can.”
“I will. I’ll call you.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.” That is a promise I must keep.
Junhyung grins softly to me. “I’ll be waiting. Good seeing you again.”
Junhyung’s soft grin lingers as he backs away from me with his hands in his pockets. A final look, and he turns, and continues walking.
I fold the paper and I tuck it into the back pocket of my jeans.
I keep turning around to look at him, while walking the path opposite of him.
I keep looking until he disappears.
I am making dinner.
Doojoon’s on the couch with two men. I think they are the ones he was talking to on the phone earlier. They are in his lap. They have baby faces. Doojoon alternates between kissing them. They would kiss each other, too. I hear giggling and lip smacking and moaning until Doojoon carries them off into the bedroom.
I think more about Junhyung as I steam the wanted asparagus.
He’s so big.
He’s a man.
His voice is so deep.
He’s matured.
He’s handsome.
He’s twenty.
And I have his number in my back pocket.
My heart is racing.
Doojoon is still having sex with his playmates even when dinner is finished. I eat alone.
---
(Three Days Later)
“‘boseoyo?”
“Junhyung?” I speak into my cell.
“Woon?”
“Yeah, s’me,” I say quietly. Doojoon’s sleeping.
“So you kept your promise after all.”
“O-Of course…”
“I had a feeling you would… Hey, what’re you doin’ now? Do you have any plans?”
“Ummmm…”
“I was hoping we could go out somewhere to, y’know, catch up and stuff.”
“………I……I…”
I don’t want to let him down. I’ve let him down long enough… But Doojoon… How will I ever convince Doojoon to let me go?
“Meet me at the coffee shop on the corner of 14th tonight at 7:00,” I say. I have no idea how I will get there if Doojoon says I can’t go.
“Okay, I’ll be there.”
“I will, too. I promise, Junhyung-”
“-Hey…… Be careful.”
“Yes… I’ll be careful.”
I think he already knows about Doojoon’s “mannerisms.”
---
I make Doojoon’s favorite meal for dinner. I was respectful and mindful of him the entire day. I gave him whatever he wanted of me.
The hard part is now asking if I may go to the coffee shop. I need an excuse to go.
Doojoon is watching television. He’s drinking wine. I sit beside him. I’m nervous.
“Doojoon? May I go to the coffee shop?”
“The one on 14th?”
“Yes.”
Doojoon sips on his glass, “No.”
I swallow. I cannot quit. I have to keep pushing.
“I’ll only be a second. I’ll come straight home.”
“No.”
“…I-I only want one thing-”
“What part of fucking ‘no’ isn’t getting into your head? You’re not. fucking. going.”
“Why?”
I quickly purse my lips together. Too late. Doojoon heard me.
I keep my eyes to my hands.
“Did you just ask me ‘why’?”
“I’m sorry, Doojoon.”
He stares at me. I brace myself for anything.
“You’d better be glad I’ve got this wine in my hand, or I would’ve slapped that dumb-ass look off your face,” Doojoon drinks from his glass, “Get out of my face. You see I don’t wanna be bothered.”
I stand up immediately, but then… I think of Junhyung. I think of him sitting there at one of the booths by himself. Alone. Looking to the door every time he hears the chimes jingle. Waiting.
I cannot let him down.
…I take a very deep breath, and I sit down next to Doojoon again.
“I won’t ask to go anywhere else for the rest of this month, Doojoon.”
Doojoon squints at me.
“…You’re still trying to-You’re fuckin’ around with somebody, aren’t you?”
“No!!”
“Mhm,” Doojoon swallows the rest of the red wine, “You’ve been smiling an awful lot these past days. And if it’s one thing that’ll make anyone smile, it’s a fuck. A good fuck.”
My face is boiling and I don’t know why.
“Doojoon, I haven’t been with anyone-”
Doojoon abruptly gets close to me, until we are sharing breath. His orbs are beady with black.
“You can go, but if I find out about him, I’m going to beat his bitch ass first, and then I’m never going to stop beating yours. I promise you that. You got that, slut?”
“Y-Yes, Doojoon… Thank you.”
I pour him a second glass of wine without being asked to.
Doojoon tells me to bring him back some banana bread.
---
I sprint to the coffee shop.
It’s 7:10 the time I arrive.
Junhyung is sitting in the rear of the shop. I nearly scare him as I dive into the empty seat across from him.
“I-I’m sorry that I’m late… I tried to get here as fast as I could.”
I’m huffing and puffing; Junhyung blinks at me as if I have five arms.
“It’s okay, Dongwoon…” Junhyung says coolly. He slides a beverage across the small table, “Here. That one’s yours. It’s a white chocolate venti.”
“Junhyung… You didn’t have to…”
“I know, but I wanted to.”
I smile lightly, accepting the warm beverage into my hands, “Thank you.” I take a sip. It’s really good. Very hot.
“You’re welcome,” he replies, smiling back to me the same way he’s always smiled.
Our catching up begins. Junhyung does most of the talking. He tells me that he’s still poem writing amid working part time. His skills have improved. He brought some samples of his latest inspirations with him for me to look through and read. They are ever the more soul-stirring… The inked words speak to me clearer than before. He says he’s been doing a lot of public appearances at late night poetry clubs. That truly surprises me, because he was such a timid thing in the past.
A lot happens in four years.
“Do you have a lady friend?” I ask, flipping a page after reading a very romantic poem he oddly entitled “The Polyester Gun.”
“Nah.”
“What? No girlfriend?”
“Nope.”
“Why?”
Junhyung licks his lips, “I just haven’t been too interested, y’know?”
The poems are strongly amorous in nature, though. Junhyung threads his emotions into his pieces. I would love to meet the source of his inspiration.
“You still with that guy?” he asks me.
“Oh, D-Doojoon? Yes, we are still together.”
“It’s been four years now, hasn’t it?”
“Yes…”
“That’s right, you’re married. And how’s that been goin’?”
“It’s been going fine………” I drink some of my coffee, “Yeah, it’s been fine.”
“Why does he hate me?”
I look into Junhyung’s eyes widely. He looks back into me with evident hurt. He knows that Doojoon was the one who pulled me away from him.
“Junhyung… I wish I could answer that question for you, but I can’t. I really can’t. I can’t see why he would dislike you so much.”
“Would you get mad at me if I told you that your husband has issues?”
“I know he has issues.”
“He has very bad issues.”
I bow my head. “……I know.”
“Issues that you shouldn’t be putting up with.”
“…”
“Doojoon and I have made eye contact several times over the years. I see the people he brings into your home, Dongwoon. He has no respect for you. And the walls aren’t too thick. Even if we are across from each other, I can still hear the noises. I can hear your screams. I can hear you crying. I can hear him yelling at you. Dongwoon, why do you let him do this?”
My head is still bowed. “He is my husband…”
“That doesn’t mean a damn thing. That’s an excuse, Dongwoon. You know it’s an excuse. He’s supposed to protect you. He’s supposed to respect you and love you and be there when you need him. But all I ever hear him do is scream at you and call you names. I hear him talk bad about you all the time. Yet you’re still with him. You still let him do whatever the fuck he wants to you. He doesn’t care for you. He doesn’t, Dongwoon. When is it going to be enough…? When are you gonna get out of this-?”
“-I have to go now.”
I leave the table faster than I nearly crashed into it. I leave the coffee shop, and I walk swiftly.
My heart is disturbed and upset.
“Dongwoon,” I hear Junhyung call. I am not able to get over how deep his voice has gotten still.
I keep walking.
“Dongwoon, wait.”
I keep walking.
Junhyung grips my upper arm.
Instinctively, I freeze.
Junhyung faces me. “Dongwoon. I’m just looking out for you.”
“Your concern is touching, but you don’t have to worry about me.”
“He’s beating on you, Dongwoon! What’s there not to worry about-!?”
“-I have to go. Now.”
I turn to leave, and I keep walking.
And Junhyung doesn’t call for me.
And my heart’s racing.
---
I come home, and the house is turned upside-down. It is as if someone picked up my house, flipped it over, shook it, and sat it right-side up again. My couch is flipped. My tabletop ornaments are broken and scattered about the floor. The curtains are twisted and derailed. And I am scared.
Doojoon busts out the room. He sights me. My shirt is clutched in his right fist five seconds later. I see a bottle of wine in his left hand.
“D-Doojoon-!!”
I look into his eyes. They are droopy and red and… wet. He is definitely drunk.
“Y’gonna fuckin’ leave me? Hn… huh? Iz’at what you’re gonna do?”
“Doo-!”
Doojoon throws me to the floor and drops the wine. He hovers over my body and pins me with his weight. And he beats me till I can’t breathe. Till it sounds like trains and whistles and heavy water in my ears. And then he tells me that I’d better not ever leave him. He tells me that he’ll kill me if I ever leave him. That is all I can make out. The rest of the sounds are his slurred words. The rest of the sounds are me begging for him to stop hurting me. Everything is happening in slow motion, but after the longest cluster of seconds of my life, the hits slacken. They lose intensity.
And then they just stop. And it is silent, except for faint muffles.
I uncurl from my defensive ball.
Doojoon is crying… bawling.
“Don’t you ever leave me, Dongwoon…”
I pet his head affectionately. Then I hold his hot face into my hands. And I pull him closer to mine till our foreheads bumped gently. Tears bloat in my own eyes at this refreshing, honest display of humane emotion coming from my lover. My husband…
“Doojoon… Baby, I won’t. I love you…”
“Don’t lea…ve…”
“Doojoon, listen to me… I will not leave you. I love you… I love you. I love you, Doojoon. I love you so much… with my whole heart, baby. I love you…”
And I mean every single word. I kiss him, and he kisses me, and I sob at his lips moving so slowly about mine so kiss him more and I hold him against me.
Junhyung doesn’t understand. He’s too young to understand unconditional love. Doojoon has problems. I have problems. But that doesn’t mean that you just up and quit. I love my husband; I will stand by him. I will do my best to help the both of us and better our marriage. Because I don’t want him to leave me. I don’t want to let him go. I love this man too much for that.
…
My back is bleeding. I can tell because my shirt feels wet. There are shards from my table ornaments piercing my skin. It doesn’t hurt, though.
I forgot the banana bread, too.
---
(Ten Days Later)
Doojoon is gone.
He’s gone. He’s been out of the house for over a week. He did not tell me where he would be. He did not tell me where he was going.
He does this disappearing act twice every month, but not for this long of a time. Not for ten days. Not for two hundred and forty hours. Not for one thousand, four hundred and forty minutes.
I have been staying home all day, waiting for him to show. Or call. I can’t sleep peacefully. I eat small things.
I refuse, and am reluctant, to go anywhere else.
What did I do this time…? Did I upset him? I just want him to come home… I cannot stand when things get like this. This man is all I have.
Junhyung has been calling me for days.
We have not spoken since the night at the coffee shop. He wants me over for a drink tonight. He wants to talk.
My heart is racing.
---
(Tonight)
Junhyung greets me at the door gently, and invites me inside his dwelling. I take this invitation as on opportunity to look around. It’s changed since the last time I’ve been here. There is less hollow space. He’s definitely made the place his home. He has nice furniture that corresponds aesthetically with various art pieces. It’s certainly a nice place to comfortably live in for a single person. He even has a rabbit.
“You can sit wherever you want,” says Junhyung, going to his kitchen. I hear clinking.
“O-Oh. Okay, thanks.”
I seat myself on his small couch. It’s brown, and made out of a material that I cannot readily name. It has thick, golden patterns that do as they please all about the furniture. Junhyung definitely has good taste. I spy little white hairs littered in random places on the couch. The thought of Junhyung cuddling with his rabbit is far too adorable.
I am so wrapped up in my thoughts about Junhyung and his rabbit that I am completely surprised when Junhyung plops down next to me, and I jump.
“Are you alright?” he asks, setting away the wine glasses and the bottle.
And I look him in his eyes. In his chocolate eyes. And I find myself startled and stimulated by all the emotion in them. And then I just start to cry.
Maybe it is because he is the only person that has asks me-and that has cared-if I was “alright” about anything.
But I am not alright.
I am so fucked up.
I feel Junhyung become closer to me. His body is next to my body. On my body.
I tell him about Doojoon going missing for so long. I tell him about all the things he’s done.
“I know you love him… It’s unlike anything that I’ve ever seen, or heard of. And in some ways, it’s beautiful, the way you love. But in the bigger picture, it’s not good for you to be in a relationship like that. It’s bad for you. I think you know that.”
I nod. Reluctantly.
“I know what I said at the shop hurt you, but I don’t know any other way that I can say it. You can’t sugarcoat something like that. You’ve been waiting for him to change-you’ve been waiting to see the signs of him changing-but you haven’t seen anything. So where do you go from there?”
“…Married. We are married.”
“Marriage is no reason to keep yourself bound to him, Dongwoon. You’re the only one worried about your marriage; he isn’t. You think he thinks about his marriage when he’s with those whores? Or when he’s calling you out of your name? There is no marriage in his eyes, and you know this… I don’t want you to hurt anymore. You’re a good person. A very good person. Almost too good. He doesn’t deserve…” Junhyung sighs right here, “I’ve been regretting never doing anything for you. I would hear you cry, and I would hear him yell and… beat you, but I wouldn’t budge. I hated myself for… cowering and not confronting him. Not standing up. I wanted to help you, but I could never bring myself to get up and… do something about it.”
“It’s okay, Jun-”
“-No, it’s not okay. I should’ve done something. I was in the right position to do so, too. But I never did. And if something happened-or happens-to you, I would never, ever, ever forgive myself. Dongwoon, I…”
Junhyung just stops talking. I watch him dip his head, and then pour two classes of white wine. He drinks roughly half of his glass before returning his attention to me again. My heart is racing for reasons only it knows.
“I missed you. All I thought about was you. I was young and unhappy. Many times I would go to your door, and I would want to knock, but I could never do it. I was afraid of Doojoon, too, back then. I’m not afraid now. I would beat that fucker’s head in if I’m given the chance. But… yeah… you meant a lot to me, Dongwoon. More than you could ever know. You were the first to… positively express how you felt about my writings. My parents hated them. They said they were unproductive. They said writing was stupid. I don’t think I would’ve ever picked up a pencil had it have not been for your encouragement. And then you just vanished and…”
“I’m sorry, Junhyung… I’m so, so sorry-”
“-No, I understand. You couldn’t help it. You were scared.”
“I wish I hadn’t’ve been. I wish I could’ve said something to him.” I wish a lot of things.
“It’s fine,” and Junhyung slightly smiles, but I can read that there is more on his mind, “…You still mean a lot to me. Much more… I see you as more than a friend, and a mentor. This is strange to say, since I haven’t seen you in four years, but my feelings never went away.”
“Feelings” he says? Junhyung… Junhyung had-has feelings for me? Meaning, he has felt romantically attached to me?
“Feelings like mine don’t just go away…” Junhyung further comments.
“Well… Wh-What do you mean by ‘feelings’?” I ask.
“I’ve thought about what it would be like to kiss you a lot,” Junhyung confesses to me quietly, “Those kinds of feelings.”
I am shocked. His face is suddenly very close to mine. I can feel the heat of his face mixing with mine; everything is getting hot, then warm, then back to hot. I feel like my body is being wrapped in a warm blanket. He sucks his lips…
“An’ I’ve thought about what it would be like… to see what you taste like-to taste you. Everything. And how it would feel… to hold you close to me while we’re naked, and just feel you, and love you… and be inside you… an’… an’ tell you how much you mean to me… an’ how much I want you…”
Junhyung presses his chest to my chest. I’m cornered. Our hearts are fluttering, and our lips…
His lips.
His eyes and his lips.
And his arms are coiling around me. I’m so warm and he’s so warm and it feels like my eyes are going to roll back and melt. And it feels like I’m either going to faint or cry. And it feels like the deeper his eyes dig into me, the more I see…
…the more I see…
“J… Junhyung…”
And his lips touch my mouth in the softest… I don’t even know what to call it. It’s not a kiss. It’s more than a kiss. I cannot give it a name. I’ve never experienced such a sensation. It spills into my throat, then my chest and to my toes, and all the way back up again.
Junhyung’s passionate lips touch mine more and more. He likes sucking my lips. His tongue smoothly crosses over and into my mouth, and I feel waves and waves of chills excite me. Junhyung’s warm, bare hands are under my shirt now, somehow, caressing my lower abdomen before crawling behind my back and lightly scratching me. And it feels so good.
And then it just disappears.
Junhyung pulls himself off of me. He apologizes, and curses, and apologizes to me.
“Junhyung…?”
“I feel like I’m takin’ advantage of you.”
“What?”
“You’re in a fucked up predicament. You’re emotionally vulnerable, and I planned to try and help you, but and here I am trying to… have sex… with you.”
“………………I don’t mind.”
I can hardly believe the words coming out of my own mouth. Junhyung seems to be thinking the same once he looks at me again.
“I-It’s what you want… Right?” I follow up.
“But is this the right thing to do?” Junhyung turns to me again, and he shyly takes my hands, “Hyung. I love you, and I want you to feel it, but I don’t want it to be wrong…”
It is then that I see that same flustered sixteen-year-old Junhyung who was afraid to read his poems to me. I laugh, confusing him, definitely, and then I place my own lips on top of his. Nothing is really making sense tonight. All I know is that I like the way Junhyung talks to me. And kisses me, and touches me. To him, I have feelings to touch and a heart to love.
I am human to him.
Junhyung takes me to his room by the hand. I take my place on the edge of the wide bed. I watch him close the door.
And then he walks to me, and faces me. And his hands take my shoulders and his lips take my lips, and Junhyung falls on top of me. I feel how eager he is. He has been thinking of this very moment for a long time. He takes me, and he just makes the sweetest love to me from the start, beginning with long, wet kisses. I simply give in. He says he is going to do everything to me; he is in complete control.
Junhyung whispers to my skin that he loves me, and that I am perfect. It’s a love so heavy that I can’t take it all. Junhyung’s tongue, lips and hands are tireless things. I am pleasured for hours. I say his name so many times until it’s as natural as breathing; he makes my name sound like a song. His skin touching my skin makes me quake feverishly. The sheets are wrecked with passion. I twist and turn underneath him.
And we connect. It’s a feeling that’s foreign but instantaneously becomes familiar. I tell him go deeper. I tell him to not stop. To never stop. He doesn’t. And as he pushes into me, he looks me into my eyes. His gaze is so heavy that I have to blush and timidly look away. Or close my eyes. But his eyes are constantly on me. We are so physically close that we can’t become any closer. And his hands are constantly stroking my body as he strokes me on the inside. I am on fire. I am in ecstasy.
Everything is beautiful. Everything is right. This is right.
Time slows down just for us.
Tired, Junhyung and I are lying on our left sides. His right arm is draped around my body in a stable grip. And we just rest and lie together. I occasionally feel him kiss the back of my head, in which I respond with a stroke to the arm holding me.
Four years ago, I would’ve definitely told someone they had lost their mind if they told me that I would have sex with Junhyung four years later. It probably would’ve never even happened. But it did.
It was the purest sex I have ever experienced.
Curious, I ask Junhyung if this was the first time he’s ever made love to someone. He admits-after a very long pause-that it was. I get a sense of happiness. I’m his first… We cuddle and bask some more in this silence. I can feel his heart.
I ask him if I can see his rabbit. She’s in the corner of his room. He says I can, and he lets her out of her cozy apartment. He places her on the bed, and after a little investigation, she curls against my chest and stays.
“She likes you,” says Junhyung with a smile. Again, he holds me from behind.
I smile at the small white thing, and I give Junhyung’s rabbit a kiss. He tells me her name is “Tea.” I ask him why he named a white rabbit “Tea” and he just shrugs.
I don’t know why, but this-our being togetherness-feels… very strange. But not strange in a negative way. No. I don’t know how to describe it. I feel confused, but not confused. And then I feel whole, but there are pinholes of emptiness throughout my body. And I can feel them expanding… This is all sudden.
I tell Junhyung that I should probably get going. The feelings are too much… Junhyung makes this throaty sound that lets me know he doesn’t want me to leave. He holds me in his arms firmly; I feel his wet lips peck my shoulder. I feel safe… Eventually, he lets me out of his arms. I put on my discarded my clothes. I feel him watching me. I wonder if he can see the markings.
I wonder if it makes him angry.
Junhyung walks me to his door.
“Dongwoon…”
I look. Junhyung appears apprehensive. I assure him that everything is alright with a kiss, which becomes a couple of kisses. I easily find myself in his long arms again.
“When you need me, call me.”
“I will… Thank you,” and I grin, “…T-Tonight was… beautiful.”
Junhyung smiles and agrees.
“Yeah.”
We deeply kiss an umpteen number of times before we finally say “good night” to one another.
I leave Junhyung’s home and I enter mine, still feeling his arms wrapped tight around me, still feeling his lips and tongue moving so expertly slow as he touches me, still feeling him connected to me so intimately.
And then I feel a rock slam into my head. I spin around and I land on the floor. And then I feel pinned to the floor by knives and I feel something clamping my throat closed.
Everything is swirling around and dark, and I am in indescribable pain. But I see a sight that I will never forget.
Doojoon is the force that is pinning me. He is the on top of me. He is the one choking me. His eyes do not belong to him. I have never seen him look so hateful.
Doojoon knows. I see it in his eyes and I feel it in his hand. He knows where I’ve been. He knows what I’ve done.
I can’t breathe. I really can’t. My chest hurts and my eyes are watery.
I scratch at his arm desperately. I plead with my eyes.
He is going to kill me. He said he would, and now he will.
“You lied to me,” Doojoon says calmly.
I shake my head “no.” And he snaps. He pulls my pants off and he inserts three fingers inside me and mercilessly thrusts and thrusts until he finds Junhyung’s liquid essence. Then he shoves those three fingers into the back of my throat and he asks me over and over how I liked his taste. I squirm and I can’t breathe and I futilely try to get him to stop. It is a struggle. Doojoon yells at me and calls me everything. He is irreversibly angry.
I lose my sense of smell, then taste. The image of Doojoon starts to fade in and out. I get weak. I stop fighting. I stop scratching. My heart slows. The bells in my ears ring louder with the same, strident pitch.
I hear metal stir.
“Let him go,” a voice says.
Doojoon turns around, and he sees the barrel of the gun. Junhyung is the holder of the gun. Doojoon takes his fingers out of my throat. And he stands on his feet, only two steps away from Junhyung. He is not scared, I think. He laughs. But I’m scared. I’m terrified.
“Junhyung please don’t hurt him…” I beg.
“You think you’re a man with that gun, don’t you?” Doojoon says.
Junhyung squeezes the gun. He is so tempted. I can see it in his eyes.
Then he throws the gun onto the couch, and spreads his arms.
“Gun or no gun, I’ll still kick your ass. Just touch him one more time.”
Doojoon stares at Junhyung. And then he looks at me. And he “tsk”s with a smile. He flips his hands up in surrender.
“Look. If you actually want that trash, you can have it. He’s not worth it. I’m done.”
…
…
My heart screams until it breaks.
Because I want Doojoon to fight for me and I want Doojoon to still want me and I want him to love me because I love him and I don’t want him to leave and I don’t know what I will do if he leaves because I love him so much and I don’t want this to happen to us because I love him and I never want him to leave because if he leaves me I will have nothing because he is everything to me and I love him.
“D… D-Doo… D-Doojoon…………… no.”
I bring myself to my wobbly legs, and I grasp his arm. He snatches away and goes into the bedroom.
“Get the fuck off me… cheap fuck. You let him fuck you the first opportunity he gave. You were that easy.”
“Doojoon. Babe, please. I’m sorry…!”
“The fuck…? DONGWOON ARE YOU APOLOGIZING TO HIM?” Junhyung shouts.
Doojoon is putting on his shoes. I try to stop him, and he slaps me, and I stumble three steps back, and I try again, and I get on my knees in front of him.
“Doojoon… no… Don’t, baby… Stop.”
“DONGWOON,” Junhyung shouts.
“I want you, I love you… please stay, baby. Don’t leave. Please stay. Stay. Stay. Stay.”
Doojoon just stares down at me. Junhyung says something loud and then he leaves on his own. My eyes are focused on Doojoon. He is my main priority. He is my husband.
He strokes the left side of my cheek gently, and he just looks at me. I kiss his hand. And I tell him that I’m sorry. And that I love him with all my heart.
“What is your name?” Doojoon whispers.
“Yoon Dongwoon.”
“And what does the ‘Yoon’ in front of that ‘Dongwoon’ mean?”
And I tell him what the Yoon means.
Yoon means that I belong to him. Yoon means that I am his. I married him. He’s not “Son Doojoon,” and therefore I don’t question him. I do what he says, when he says. Not when I want to. Not when I feel like it. Because how I feel doesn’t matter. If he tells me to do something-and since I am a ‘Yoon’-then I will do it.
“I told you not to see Junhyung again, didn’t I?”
“……Yes.”
I disobeyed thrice.
I pay the price thrice tonight.
I like writing stories with abuse plots, though it seems that I can never add enough realness to it. Although this is very fucked up and I am sad for Junhyung, but oh well. I tried. And Dongwoon got what he wanted, the stupidpoor thing.
Thank you for reading~ I really love you all.
Next: Circumflex (Ê) [Doojoon/Dongwoon, Junhyung/Dongwoon] (PG-13+)