Work Text:
Tuesday. It starts with the flowers.
Sunggyu thinks nothing of them as his assistant Sungjong brings them into his office. They’re bundled into a small, yet maximalist bouquet that Sunggyu ignores for the whole day until Myungsoo waltzes into the place, a thick folder in hand.
“Ready for the meeting with our client?”
Sunggyu waves him off. “I’m just doing a last-minute review of our proposal. I think they’re gonna love our ideas for the campaign.”
Myungsoo hums in response, and then zeroes in on the table.
“What do we have here?” he says, stopping by the corner of the room. “And who are these from?”
Sunggyu takes a pause from his dual monitors to look at him. “Sungjong brought them in earlier. I don’t know.”
He expects Myungsoo to move on to continue discussing their upcoming meeting, but the other man keeps looking at the arrangement. It’s understandable, though; it’s an eye-catching pop of color in his otherwise dull working space.
“You got orchids, lilies, anemones, I think? I believe these are called gloriosas, and huh, red tulips—not roses,” Myungsoo says, pointing to each flower like Sunggyu is going to remember them. “Passionate, ambitious love. One might even say obsessive.”
“When did you learn so much about flowers?”
It takes a second for Myungsoo to reply, as he’s too busy poking around the arrangement. “Some of my relatives had a gala at their botanical garden last month, remember?” They’ve had so much to do this year that Sunggyu honestly remembers very little of the place, except the mountain of work (and thankfully, revenue) that it generated. “I did some research and got to take some cool pictures, which I’m planning to include in my photo book at some point—Ah hah!”
He pulls out an envelope the size of a business card that was tucked between the stems and hands it to Sunggyu, who stares at him with doubt.
“I would really like to finish reviewing my slides first.”
Myungsoo rolls his eyes. “Just open it. Mystery solved!”
So Sunggyu does. While the envelope itself is blank, pretty unassuming, the card inside is much more elaborate despite its size. It’s like one of those cute children's stationery papers with a blue border and a puppy in the corner.
It is a mismatch from the text inside, which reads,
Even if flowers wither and die,
Even if the moon sets and disappears,
My feelings won’t change.
As Sunggyu turns it around to inspect it further, he reads another simple message: Can’t wait to see you again.
“Huh,” is all he says.
“Well, who sent them?” Myungsoo asks. Sunggyu is not too sure what to make of the message, so he passes the card to the younger man and waits for him to read it. “A poet. Secret admirer?”
“Someone I’ve met before, apparently,” he mutters, eyes straying towards his computer screen again. He does not have time for this.
“What about last Saturday's luncheon? There were some fresh faces.”
Sunggyu tries to conjure up the image of anyone in particular, but realizes he barely paid attention to whoever was in attendance. Who knew his habit of seeing numbers over people’s faces would come back to haunt him?
He tilts his head. “You mean with the athletes?”
“Yeah, for the Nike ads—remember my cousin’s gonna be part of them, too. I forgot to introduce you guys.”
Sunggyu goes back to reading through the text on-screen. He twists his mouth. “No one’s ringing a bell, to be honest.”
Myungsoo finally realizes his lack of investment in the conversation, so he just tells the other man they have to go. He does, however, leave the card back on Sunggyu’s desk for him to take.
—
Sunggyu puts the events behind him until he’s back at the office, much later that day. The flowers are still there, and so is the small, thin piece of cardboard with the odd text.
He tells Sungjong to throw the flowers away but, moved by curiosity, pockets the card.
—
Thursday. That night.
Sunggyu’s at the bar, sipping on his drink while listening to Lola ramble on about her latest conquest.
It’s their weekly ritual and though he’s never been a fan of the noisy environment, he knows this is where she feels at ease. They’ve frequented this bar since forever; before Lola was even Lola, and before Sunggyu confessed that he only liked men, even if he’s never actually been with one.
Plus, it’s a good place for networking; half of the marketing industry big shots hang around this bar; the other half is married with children. Sometimes there are both types of people at the intersection of the Venn diagram.
Sunggyu is not in the mood for networking tonight.
He finishes his drink and motions to their waiter to bring them another round. Usually he’d call it a night, but work has been more stressful than usual, so one more drink won’t hurt. That, and he’s been meaning to bring up the thing with the flowers and the weird card that’s still burning a hole in his wallet since a few days ago, but he’s not sure how.
Sunggyu thinks back on his order to throw out the flowers, and wondering if Lola can tell him whether he made the right choice, he takes a sip from his newly served drink.
The rest of the night is a bit of a blur after that.
—
Sunggyu comes to his senses kneeling over a filthy toilet bowl, chest heaving and a burning sensation of bile running through his throat as he pukes his guts out. There’s someone with him, a comforting hand on his nape while Lola nags at him from out of the stall.
“Lola?” he slurs, trying to look back, but unable to do so, as the hand keeping him still tightens around his neck. “You ssssshouldn’t be ‘ere. ‘s the men’s rrroom.”
Another wave of nausea hits him before he can say more, and so he turns back to the bowl.
—
He blinks again and suddenly he’s in a moving vehicle, crisp October wind hitting his cheeks as he leans over the window to look at the blurry city lights.
…Next street over, please…
…If he pukes, it’ll be extra…
Voices come and go. He thinks one of those is Lola’s. He shuts his eyes; the movement is making him nauseous again, but the upcoming headache is more of a threat at this point.
…kakaopay?...
…miracle that guy was there…
Sunggyu groans. Everything is spinning, moving too fast. Even sitting still makes him feel like he’s on a carousel.
—
Friday. The morning after.
Sunggyu wakes up in his bed. Alarm blaring. Clothes from yesterday. Thirteen unread messages.
He jumps into the shower, headache non-withstanding, and decides he’ll worry about everything else later.
In a matter of a few minutes (personal record for him), he’s already pushing his way out of the subway in hopes he’ll make it to the office on time. As a manager, no one really keeps up with his schedule except perhaps the director sometimes, but he’s always prided himself on leading by example.
Added to the list of things biting him in the ass this week.
Finally, once he gets to the office and takes a moment to catch his breath while waiting for the elevator, he checks his messages. Two are from Lola, eleven from an unknown number.
He opens Lola’s first:
what the hell, sunggyu??? you’re lucky i love you
you owe me btw. thanks for paying for the rides tho.
He types back:
Thanks for getting me home. I don’t even remember getting that drunk. Must’ve been something in my drink??
Then, he checks the messages from the unknown number:
i can’t believe you noticed me last night, Gyu. thank you so, so much
sorry, can I call you Gyu?
Would you prefer Gyu-hyung? Do you want me to use formal speech?
I think of you so often that it feels like we’re already close, though?
I’m sure you won’t mind
Enjoy your breakfast
Please don’t drink too much anymore
I hope you like the flowers too
I know you threw away the others, but I can’t help myself
see you soon
love you
“What the fuck,” Sunggyu mutters to himself.
He pulls up his conversation with Lola again and asks her who the hell he gave his number to last night, sending him a screenshot of his conversation with the unknown number.
The elevator doors ding, and soon enough he’s going up along with a bunch of other people trying to get to their workstations.
Lola replies back:
glad 2 hear ure alive
crazy, tho. lets never go to that bar again
uhmm? there was a cute guy in the bathroom who helped me get u to the toilet
then u were rly thankful and gave him ur number. YIKES
big mistake
A few people greet him on the way to his office, though there are a few stares here and there. At first, Sunggyu thinks he’s just imagining things. The odd messages and the events from last night must be giving him a weird feeling. But he quickly realizes it’s not just that.
It has more to do with a fresh bouquet waiting for him at his secretary’s desk. Some sort of red and pink flowers. Camelias?
Definitely not in season.
He looks at Sungjong, who offers him a gift bag overflowing with hangover drinks.
“For you, Mr. Kim,” he says. “A deliveryman was waiting in the lobby when I arrived.”
Sunggyu takes the bag, rubbing at the bridge of his nose, and instructs his secretary to throw the flowers away again. This time, he doesn’t look at the card. He still has the other one, after all.
—
Later that same day, Sungjong comes in after knocking politely.
“Mr. Kim, there’s more,” he says.
Before Sunggyu can ask more of what? the secretary leaves and comes back with bags after bags after bags of takeout food.
“What,” is all he can say.
“These were just dropped off,” Sungjong explains. “Took three different drivers. I think it’s all from different restaurants in the area.”
“Who sent this?”
Sungjong shrugs as he unwraps the food; there’s a variety of soups, snacks, noodles and teas. A perfect combination of hangover meals. If this were for an army of hungover employees.
“They couldn’t give me a name, but they said the bill, delivery and tips were all accounted for. It was like a fifty percent tip, too.” Sunggyu raises his eyebrows in response, and Sungjong goes on, “This is a lot. Boss, I hope you feel better soon.”
Sunggyu deflates onto his chair with a sigh. “Leave a bowl of haejangguk for me and give away the rest. If anyone gets food poisoning, that’s on them.”
His secretary looks at the food he just unpacked and starts re-packaging it with a huff. “Yes, sir.”
He leaves aside the bowl for Sunggyu and leaves. Once he’s out, Sunggyu begins digging in. Although reluctant for fear it might be contaminated, given what just happened last night, he has to admit it’s a damn good meal.
As he’s about to finish, his phone lights up with a notification from an unread message. Then another. Then another.
I didn’t know what to get you, so I thought a bit of everything would be nice.
Enjoy your meal
love you
—
Wednesday. Two weeks later.
It has become routine. There are flowers waiting for him every morning, and every morning, Sungjong throws them away.
Likewise, the messages continue on. Long, poetic. Nonsensical. Full of stickers and sometimes slang he doesn't understand very well. Sunggyu skims through them in the mornings—sometimes at night—before deleting the conversation without a reply.
i love u, is always the last message. How? Sunggyu wants to ask. Not why? That one is rather inconsequential.
Rumors float through the office about his secret admirer. Myungsoo thinks it is getting kind of weird. Lola tells him to block the number and file a police report.
Sunggyu’s life goes on.
It's not like he has the time or mental capacity to think about it too deeply. Work piles on. Between back-to-back meetings and calls with clients, gatherings for networking, and weekend galas, Sunggyu can barely keep u. Breaks—and sometimes sleep—are optional. As if he could burden his life with more complicated events, like trying to get rid of a stalker.
No, things are good as they are. This secret admirer of his sends out overbearing messages, yes, and the talks at the office are getting embarrassing, but it's nothing he can't handle. The guy will get bored eventually. He has to.
What’s the view like from up there? His stalker messages him that night, squished between a poem and a link to a love song that Sunggyu won't entertain clicking. I often look up and think of you.
Sunggyu doesn't reply; merely stares through the window at the high-rise buildings surrounding his office. You can’t even see the sunset from where he’s at.
The rest of his employees have gone home for the night.
If his stalker is looking up, he must be around the area. Maybe it’s worth asking security to review the cameras. If only to satisfy his curiosity a bit.
Sunggyu looks down, as he’s done many times before. This time, however, the action is not accompanied by his usual late-night thoughts about the strength of the tempered glass that separates him from the outside. That separates his body from splattering on the floor.
This time, he wonders what makes his stalker want him.
Willing himself to dispel the thoughts, Sunggyu looks back to his computer, where he has the Kakao app tucked into a corner of one of his otherwise busy screens. There are more messages waiting for him already.
Maybe he’s just lonely, Sunggyu thinks. Maybe they both are.
At last, he types a message: Stop sending flowers to the office, is all he says.
Excited and unable to explain to himself why, he finally blocks the number. What, oh what will you do next, is all he thinks.
—
Friday, again.
Sunggyu doesn’t love the change in his routine, but he still goes into a different bar. This one’s more like a club, really, and not much of Sunggyu’s style, but Lola is on the hunt for something new, and she brought her ‘angels’ along this time.
(Of course, the change in scenery has nothing to do with the terrible security protocol with drinks at the usual place that led to Sunggyu’s run-in with his stalker.
Whatever, it’s not the only queer bar in Seoul anyway.)
Paradise is louder. Darker. Sexier. Sunggyu soon finds himself sandwiched between tipsy, manic drag queens who smear glitter and red lipstick all over his face. Not that he minds. He’s a little unsteady and giggly himself. Not drunk, though; he’s been careful to order directly from the bar and watch over his drink this time.
It’s fun for a while. He forgets his troubles, dances with the queens, and allows himself to relax.
And then, he feels the stare.
Sunggyu thinks it has to be his imagination at first. It can’t be him, right? It’s likely some leftover paranoia, a mere product of a tiring week.
Still, it persists.
Sharp. Somber.
Sunggyu glances around, but he can’t see where it’s coming from; the dim lights of the club give poor long-distance visibility. Yet, he definitely feels it. It sends a shiver down his spine and makes him glance at his group. No one but him seems to notice, but then again, no one else is being stalked.
No matter; he downs his drink amid the cheers from those around him, feeling the tips of his ears grow warm. He keeps on dancing. Even thinks of wrapping an arm around one of the angels, but that’s too bold a move for someone like him. Instead, he just tries a handful of body waves and lets Lola spin him around.
The girls make fun of him and think he’s had one too many drinks, but whatever. Whoever is watching can enjoy the show.
—
Thursday, still. Later that night.
Sunggyu sits by the windowsill, ready to give in to the itch to look outside. Although his apartment is at the top, the building itself is not as tall as his office. He can see the street well enough.
(Much like at the office, it’s the nocturnal thoughts that get him; it’s the impulse to calculate the distance from the floor. If he jumps, it probably won’t make a splat. He’d get a few broken bones, is all.)
Finally done with the stress of the week, he allows himself to relax, though. He’s even taken the time to pour himself a glass of wine and play his favorite classical music through the speakers in the living room. Having no neighbors has its perks.
And now, the window.
He finds that there is a man at the corner of the street—which is more like a thin alley that veers into an actual proper street—standing by a motorcycle. Black hat, black clothes. Face mask.
He is looking straight at Sunggyu. Has been, who knows how long.
With a gasp, Sunggyu pulls the curtain back in place and hides. Grabs his phone. Goes back to his spot. The man is still there when Sunggyu peeks through the curtain.
No problem; he thought of this—planned for this. Earlier, on the ride home, Sunggyu unblocked the unknown number. Despite what someone like his secretary might think, he knows how to do that much, at least. He didn’t send any messages, though.
That was saved for now, the moment of truth.
He opens the chat with his stalker, blank again after Sunggyu purged the one-sided declarations of love, and sends a simple text.
What are you doing so late at night?
Immediately he looks back outside. As expected, the man digs his phone out of his pocket. His face lights up in more than one way. His body language, too, changes completely. It’s like a few words are enough for him to carry himself with more confidence—chest puffed up, shoulders straight. Maybe he’s smiling behind the mask.
Then, he looks back at Sunggyu’s building, at Sunggyu, and there’s no mistaking it.
The same zap of electricity runs through his back. The climax of Danse Macabre by Saint-Saëns plays in the background.
It’s him.
It’s him, it’s him, it’s him.
Sunggyu lets out a shaky breath and reaches for the wine without breaking eye contact. Somehow expectant and scared the other man will disappear, he braves looking away to type on his phone again.
Go home, he texts before the other man can assault him with a barrage of messages. And then, he shuts the curtain for good and turns off his phone.
—
Sunggyu dreams of sweat and bodies pressed together. Red lights enveloping the room. Glitter. Sweat. Alcohol. A stare he can’t put a face to.
He wakes up hard, aching for a touch that will never come. Isn’t sure if he’s still dreaming or if he’s awake before he rolls on his stomach and rubs against the sheets, sneaking a hand inside his pajama pants when the friction is not enough.
Imagines the same unnerving stare from last night as he comes on his sheets with a gasp.
Once he’s done, he rolls over and falls back asleep. He doesn’t dream this time.
—
Saturday morning.
There’s a fresh bouquet waiting for him at his apartment’s lobby.
Red roses.
—
Monday.
“Want to meet our talents?” Myungsoo asks him over lunch. It’s one of those rare occasions where Sunggyu’s agreed to grab something to eat with him.
Sunggyu shrugs, digging into his meal. “You started rolling the commercials already?”
“Sorta. Scheduling has been a nightmare, but some stars could fit us in, and we have to take advantage of that. My cousin’s actually doing his today, wanna meet him?”
The Nike campaign is supposed to be among the biggest things they’re working on, but it’s not the only thing, so Sunggyu has only a tangential interest in it. It’s composed of a series of commercials featuring the biggest stars in the country, spanning across different fields: soccer, tennis, baseball, swimming and ice-skating.
Sunggyu knows nothing about sports, but he’d be lying if he said he’s not curious to see what they’re working on. He did skim through the list of talents who will be featured. Aside from a certain Kim Yuna, the only memorable name to come to mind is that of Kim Minseok, a singer-turned actor-turned soccer player of the likes of Yoon Doojon and Seo Eunkwang.
He looks at Myungsoo with narrowed eyes. “Shouldn’t you be at the shooting location, then?”
Myungsoo fidgets with his chopsticks. “I wanted to see if you tagged along. You’ve been kind of distant since, uh, the thing with the flowers.”
That makes Sunggyu pause. He’s known Myungsoo for a while, though they’re only close in the way long-term coworkers are. Still, he knows how similar they are—both logical, straightforward and sometimes unnoticing of the lives of those around them. For someone like Myungsoo to sense something is going on with him is uncommon, to say the least.
Then again, looking back at his weekend, who is Sunggyu to speak on uncommon things?
“Okay, sounds good,” he says with a shrug. Myungsoo looks ready to argue before he realizes Sunggyu is agreeing. “But you’re driving, alright?”
—
Soon after parking, Sunggyu figures it’s as good a moment as any to voice his confusion.
“I thought we were meeting your cousin?”
As they’re walking from the parking lot to the filming location, Myungsoo turns to him. “What do you mean? We are.”
“Uh-huh. What?” Sunggyu looks back to the open field. An open baseball field. “Remind me, who’s your cousin again? I thought he played soccer.”
Myungsoo scoffs. “I wish you paid more attention to your surroundings sometimes. There—Looks like they’re wrapping up.”
He points to the middle of the field, where the director just yelled “cut” and a small group of people are surrounding the person standing on the pitcher’s mound. Sunggyu watches as the young man bows to the camera, while a member of the staff rushes to take his baseball cap.
“Is that him?” Sunggyu asks, interest piqued by the lean body, toned arms despite the loose baseball shirt. “Younger cousin, I guess.”
“The one and only,” Myungsoo says, then calls out to the other man with a wave of his hand, “Woohyun-ah, come say hi!”
Woohyun looks around until he spots them, face lighting up at the sight of the men in business casual who probably stick out on the field. Funny, it reminds Sunggyu of a puppy wagging its tail. Reminds him of something else too, but he can’t place what.
Myungsoo claps him on the shoulder once he arrives. “Finally! Sunggyu-hyung, this is my cousin Woohyun.”
“Sunggyu,” Woohyun says, hands covering Sunggyu’s as he bows. They’re dry, calloused. Must come with the sport. Strong. He doesn’t let go. “Finally, we meet.”
Sunggyu has a sense of something, then. Foreboding, perhaps.
Next to them, Myungsoo is quick to admonish him. “Hey, where are your manners? You’ve been begging me to introduce you for so long.” He smiles, clueless. “At least call him ‘hyung’.”
Woohyun is still not letting go.
“Gyu-hyung?” he tries, looking at Sunggyu with a soft smile on his face. He’s handsome, with fluffy black hair he ruffled when he took off his baseball cap before approaching them. But then, he says, “I’ve heard about you so often that it feels like we’re already close.”
Sunggyu’s heart drops to the soles of his feet, the familiarity of the now deleted first texts nailing it to the floor.
For a fraction of a second, his vision darkens at the edges. He feels warm all over, a mix of shame and fear burning inside his ribcage. His ears are ringing; scorching with how red they must look. Woohyun is Still. Not. Letting. Go.
It’s him.
It’s him it’s him it’s—
And then, as suddenly as it starts, it ends.
The director calls Woohyun back. Sunggyu thinks he hears them say something about another take. A gaggle of stylists rush to Woohyun, who start working on retouches, fixing his hair and all, as he gets dragged back into the shoot.
Still unaware of what Sunggyu is going through, and easily mistaking his reaction for flustering at a younger person addressing him so casually, Myungsoo tries some damage control.
“Ah, don’t mind him; he has a bit of a one-track mind, but he’s a good kid.” He pivots Sunggyu towards the creative team. “Let me introduce you to the director and his assistants.”
Sunggyu forces himself back into his body out of pure willpower and lets out a discrete sigh when no one’s looking. All things considered, this is a good, even if a bit underwhelming, ‘first meeting.’
He even starts doubting himself by the time introductions are done and Woohyun is taking position, away from them. Things are normal, fine. His suspicion might even be a mistake.
Occam's razor: it’s more likely for Woohyun’s words to be a coincidence that he’s trying to link to something just because he had the brief thought that the man was cute, than for him to be Sunggyu’s actual stalker. For the second option to be true, there would have to be a series of strange coincidences and a lot of string-pulling behind the scenes.
Then again, his stalker has shown nothing but dedication from the get-go.
Just as Sunggyu is debating within himself, he hears Myungsoo ask the director how his little cousin is doing.
“Well, we all know he’s a beast on the field, but that’s nothing new,” the man says as the director of photography barks orders to the camera crew. “We were all surprised at how he’s doing on camera, though. He looks like he’s playing around, but then he gets this serious look on his face. Here—”
He points to the screens, but Sunggyu is looking beyond them, at the man himself preparing for his throw.
It’s very quick; one throw. Pause. Ok, do it again. Two throws. Good. A final one. Three throws. That’s it. We got it, Woohyun. Thanks. That’s a wrap.
Woohyun bows to the crew multiple times once more, thanking them for their work, but he must notice Sunggyu looking at him because he zeroes in on him immediately. He’s smiling softly, almost shyly, but the eyes—
Masked or not, Sunggyu would recognize that look anywhere, dark alley or open field.
He’s the first one to look away. Not because he wants to, but because he has to force himself to break the spell. He turns to Myungsoo and the director and asks them, “So, are we done?”
The director slumps in his seat. “Boy, this has just begun. A few other talents are already at their trailers, and we need our Myungsoo here to oversee the photography.”
Sunggyu licks his lips, mouth dry. The weather hasn’t been exactly warm, but he feels his armpits drenched inside his jacket. The thought of remaining there for another second is despicable.
He pats Myungsoo on the back. “As fun as that sounds, I have to get back to the office.”
“You’re leaving already?” Woohyun’s voice cuts in from behind.
Sunggyu flinches, startled. “Yes, I have to get back to work.”
“Oh, but isn’t it after-hours for you already?” Woohyun looks at his cousin, who nods in confirmation.
“I can drive you back, if you need,” Myungsoo offers, knowing that wouldn’t stop Sunggyu from returning to the office. He looks back at the director, who’s now talking to a few cameramen, and then back at Sunggyu. “Could you wait a bit? Let me just say goodbye.”
Sunggyu shakes his head. “No need. The subway is right outside.”
“Or I can drive you,” Woohyun adds on. “I’m heading that way anyway.”
Sunggyu looks at him and bites the inside of his cheek. “In your… car?”
“Yeah, just give me a second to get changed. Or actually, let’s just go.”
He makes a motion towards Sunggyu, likely to grab him, before a staff member cuts in. “Woohyun, the outfit actually belongs to production.”
Woohyun freezes, but recovers right away.
“Ah, you caught me,” he says, exaggerating his expression. “My plan to steal these clothes almost worked.”
They all laugh, including Sunggyu, who secretly thinks he’s entered some sort of alternative dimension, and Woohyun runs off to get changed. He uses the time to say goodbye to the crew, exchange a few words about the project itself and expected revenue and costs. The solidity of projections and numbers brings him comfort in the sea of doubt.
At least, until Woohyun (freshly changed into a black sleeveless shirt and dark joggers, and hair ruffled just enough that it looks unintentionally disheveled) comes back and puts an arm around Sunggyu’s shoulders, subtly leading him away from the crowd.
“Let’s get out of here, Gyu-hyung.”
—
(Sunday, the day before, Sunggyu crossed a taboo he shouldn’t have.
He kept his phone turned off all of the day before. Took it as an opportunity to work out and do some cleaning, though his house was always neat thanks to the staff that came by every Tuesday.
Eventually though, when Sunday rolled around, he knew he had to turn his phone back on again. It would’ve been easier to block his stalker again, and keep the phone working, but it was all in the form.
Sunggyu was no expert in romance; in fact, he understood it little, felt it even less. But if his stalker was the hopeless romantic he said he was, he would no doubt scrap for the tiniest crumbs of meaning in the actions. Even though Sunggyu was merely throwing bait, reeling him in with the expectation of what the other man could do.
It went almost exactly as he expected when he turned on his phone: over a hundred messages. Some of them long-winded. Some short, one or two sentences long. A bunch of emojis.
A few voice notes.
Sunggyu skimmed through most of the text again, but hovered over the play button. That was new. Seeing his stalker under the streetlamp on Friday night had felt like a major step. Was Sunggyu ready to hear what he sounded like?
He put his phone down and tried to focus somewhere else. He talked to his family, and then took a nap while watching a movie. At some point, he ordered food for himself and went back to watching YouTube videos on the big screen while slurping on his noodles.
Eventually though, curiosity got the best of him and he went back to his phone, pausing his video to listen to the audios as he did his dishes and tidied up the kitchen.
“Sunggyu, you have no idea how crazy you make me,” the recorded voice said. “You looked beautiful through the window. Thank you for allowing me to see you. I was so, so jealous when I saw you with your friends, but that’s okay. You’re allowed to have friends. To have fun. As long as you come back home and let me watch over you. You don’t need anything else, okay? Just trust me, think of me.”
The audio ended, so Sunggyu moved on to the next one before he had time to analyze whether his stalker’s words were making him scared or flattered.
“No—you know what, fuck it. I really can’t do it anymore. Seeing you makes me happy, but it’s not enough. Oh, how I want to touch you. To show you how much I adore you. It kills me to know that I can’t have you, but I’ll have to resign myself not to touch until you tell me otherwise.”
Sunggyu let silence wash over him as the last words rang through his mind over and over, methodically wiping the kitchen counter until he realized he was going over the same spot. He grabbed his phone and a book from the table nearby and sat on the windowsill.
He discreetly checked outside. Woohyun wasn't there. Of course. It was still daylight. Grabbing his phone, he decided he could let impulsiveness win for once.
Will you be here tonight? He texted.
Putting his phone in do-not-disturb mode, Sunggyu leaned back and focused on his book. It was a compelling thriller about a detective working to catch a serial killer. He had been meaning to finish it for a while, but work, among other things, had kept him busy.
Before he realized, he was fully immersed in the story, especially now that it was reaching the part where the main characters—the detective and the serial killer’s partner—became entangled in an illicit affair. He was not an avid reader of this kind of content, but he thought he’d give it a chance after hearing about the popularity of the piece, and he was now understanding how that came to be.
Sunggyu shifted in his seat to turn on a reading lamp nearby. Once done, he leaned back to make himself more comfortable as he read through the scene where they met one last time. There was something stirring in the way the author described their encounter: not enough to call it forbidden love, but definitely something ill-fated, yet sensual.
Slowly, his thoughts veered towards his stalker. If Sunggyu looked at the facts, there was no doubt he was putting himself at risk with someone he didn’t know, but who definitely knew him. Knew of him?
His stalker had sent him flowers, treated him to some meals, yes. But he also kept following him, sending long-winded and unhinged declarations of love. Might’ve even spiked his drink.
And yet, was it bad that Sunggyu hadn’t thought too much of it?
Feeling wanted to this degree was… exciting. He was willing to admit that much.
He sighed, an unknown feeling of arousal filling him as he put the book down and closed his eyes. Wanted wasn’t the right word for it, no. Desired, maybe? Craved.
Preyed on.
Sunggyu let out a shuddering breath as he carefully pulled down his sweatpants and ran his fingers through his thighs, his stomach, teasing himself before he finally took himself in his hands and began stroking his dick.
Outside, streetlamps flickered on as night fell. Was his stalker already there, watching, waiting?
Sunggyu bit his lips as he pumped, rapid-fire arousal running through his whole body, but didn’t dare look. The thought lit a fire inside him. He let his other hand trail down his perineum, parting through his cheeks until his fingers reached his hole.
He hissed at the sting of pushing a finger in dry, but pain and pleasure mixed deliriously as he continued rubbing his hard flesh. What would it be like if he ever gave his stalker a chance? Would the man cherish him like he said he would? Would he be rough, dare to harm him in any way?
Fantasizing about a touch other than his, something he had never experienced, and oscillating between kindness and harshness, Sunggyu let himself be carried away as he came, quietly, measuredly—like everything he did.
There was an element of shame to it as well. He had never even done this outside his room or bathroom, and now there he was, on full display for whoever passed by. It was obvious, though, that no one would come by. No one except for him.
When he finally dared to look out the window, still dazed from his orgasm, their eyes met.
The man stood at the same spot as two nights ago, just as Sunggyu thought he would be. Was he clenching his fists inside his pockets? Gritting his teeth behind the facemask?
I’ll have to resign myself not to touch until you tell me otherwise.
Sunggyu lifted a weak hand to wave him goodbye and close the curtain. He had to get cleaned up and ready for bed. After all, there was still work the next day.)
—
Monday, still.
Sunggyu is pretty sure they’re not going to the office.
Woohyun has made more turns in the wrong direction that he can count. Eventually, though, the streets become familiar, and Sunggyu recognizes his neighborhood.
He hasn’t told Woohyun where he lives.
So the ruse is up, and if Woohyun has no plans to keep the game going, Sunggyu won’t either.
“Where’s the motorcycle?” he asks, looking at the other ma.
Woohyun keeps on driving, silent, until he too glances back at Sunggyu. A smile blooms on his face. “I don’t use it often. It’d be unfortunate if I got into an accident going to or from work.”
“You could get into an accident going literally anywhere,” Sunggyu replies without thinking. “Maybe you shouldn’t use it at all.”
Woohyun lifts his eyebrows, surprised. “Are you worried about me?”
Sunggyu doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he doesn’t. There’s no need for it anyway. They arrive at his building, and Woohyun parks on the street. As he’s unbuckling his seatbelt, before getting out of the car, Woohyun grabs him by the wrist.
“Sunggyu… hyung,”—he tacks on the honorific like an afterthought—“time is running out for you, don’t you think?”
Sunggyu watches the veins popping on the back of Woohyun’s hand and turns to the man again.
“What do you mean?”
Woohyun chuckles, but the determined look from earlier today is back on his face. “Well, you know, now that we’re so close, I don’t think I can go back to simply watching.”
“Why not?” Sunggyu looks back down, heated by the overwhelming stare. “You said you would.”
“I’m not as patient as I thought.”
Sunggyu traces the veins of Woohyun’s hands with his fingers, fascinated at the consequent tightening around his wrist. He pries the hand off his.
“‘I think you should stop coming by,’” he says. Smiling at Woohyun’s stricken expression, he adds, “It would kill you if I said that, wouldn’t it?”
A deep, relieved sigh escapes the other man.
“Hyung,” Woohyun says in a way that feels too insincere, unlocking the door. Sunggyu has a hand on the handle as soon as he hears the sound.
“What?”
“Do you want me to catch you now, or should I give you a head start?”
—
Sunggyu pants as he reaches his apartment, punches in the code and rushes inside. He’s never liked running, but the elevator would’ve taken too long, and it’s only a few flights of stairs.
He doesn’t, however, close the door. A body slamming him against the wall mere seconds after he shrugs off his shoes, still at the doorway, reminds him of it.
It’s disappointing, really, how quickly Woohyun manages to catch him. Then again, the man is an athlete, and for Sunggyu, walking and taking the subway to the office on a good day is as close as he can get to cardio.
“Too slow,” the man whispers against his lips. Hovering, but not touching, as Sunggyu pants into his mouth. “And you didn’t shut the door.”
“Don’t you know the code?” he asks. Woohyun laughs, and that’s all he needs to know.
It’s electric when they finally kiss. Lighting goes through his body in every part Woohyun touches him—his knees, digging between Sunggyu’s legs, his chest against Sunggyu’s, and to top it all off, a hand wrapped lightly around his neck. But most importantly, it’s full adrenaline as Woohyun’s thick lips glide against his, unrelenting and mean.
“You’re so good to me,” Woohyun mumbles on one of the rare occasions he pulls back and lets Sunggyu breathe. “I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to have you like this.”
“Yeah,” he pants, wrecked. He’s so hard inside his slacks that it hurts. “You should be fucking thankful.”
He pushes Woohyun back a bit to stabilize himself, but ends up stumbling forward, unbalanced and dizzy. Woohyun catches him, but it sends them both to the floor.
“Ok, let’s—let’s go easy for a second,” he says in between gasps, sitting up from where he’s crushing Woohyun. However, the other man is quick to overpower him as he pushes Sunggyu back to the floor and sits on top of him, thick thighs bracketing his chest. “Or… not. We can do this too.”
“I’m sorry. I really can’t wait,” Woohyun offers as a mediocre explanation, running his fingers roughly through Sunggyu’s hair. He pulls it back slightly, tilting Sunggyu’s face up with one hand while the other undoes his zipper.
Sunggyu watches, enraptured, as the other man pulls himself out of his pants and gives his cock a quick stroke before guiding it inside Sunggyu’s mouth. He widens his mouth as much as possible, trying to fit everything in, before Woohyun gives one final push with a hiss.
“That’s it,” he says, wiping off a stray tear running down Sunggyu’s cheek before pulling his dick out and shoving it back in. He’s kind enough to start with a slow rhythm, giving Sunggyu enough time to adjust, tutting when he chokes. “I knew you’d be good—you’re so good. Thank you, thank you.”
He keeps mumbling words of encouragement, reminding Sunggyu of all those messages from before. A mess, but truly heartfelt.
However, he can now feel the strain on his body, uncomfortable at the widening of his jaw and the abuse on his throat. He whines, eyebrows furrowed, and Woohyun shushes him.
“I know, I know,” Woohyun says, hands on both sides of Sunggyu’s head as he fucks his mouth. “Hang in there, you’re doing so good—I’m going to spoil you. It’s all about you next—I’m—I’m—”
He pauses, hips stuttering, and Sunggyu feels the thick liquid filling his throat, forcing him to swallow to avoid choking.
Once done, Woohyun pulls back and Sunggyu coughs, pushing back the nausea. However, it’s not long before Woohyun is dragging him upwards and kissing him languidly, uncaring of the mess he’s made of Sunggyu.
He tucks himself back in, though Sunggyu suspects not for long, and then carries Sunggyu to the room.
“What, no window this time?” Sunggyu asks, mildly impressed at the strength despite the other man’s lean form. His voice is fucked.
Woohyun huffs, depositing him on the bed. “Not anymore. That was just for me, wasn’t it? You have me now. You’re forbidden from showing that to anyone else ever again.”
Sunggyu huffs, welcoming Woohyun between his legs as the other man undresses him. “It’s cute how you think you can call the shots.”
Woohyun lifts his eyebrows, obviously ticked off, but says nothing as he finishes unbuttoning Sunggyu’s shirt, and moves on to the trousers next.
Once naked, Sunggyu tries to maintain as much composure as possible until a rogue caress has him biting his lips and whimpering softly.
“You are the one who’s cute, hyung,” Woohyun says like that proves him wrong, but at this point Sunggyu is uncaring of who’s in the right, with the way Woohyun’s rough hands begin exploring him. “Where do you keep the lube?”
“Is there something about me you don’t know?” he asks, breathless.
“For the record, I’ve never been inside your house before,” Woohyun adds, leaning back to rummage through Sunggyu’s nightstand. “I haven’t crept into your room to watch you sleep or something, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Sunggyu thinks the bar is very, very low.
“Yet,” he mumbles. Woohyun tenses; clearly ashamed. That’s a start, at least. Careful not to spoil the mood, Sunggyu sighs and guides the younger man back to him once he finds what he’s looking for. “Come here. Isn’t it all about me now?”
Woohyun nods. “Always. From now on, it’ll always be about you.” Sunggyu flushes, overwhelmed by the intensity of the other’s affection. Woohyun leans down and starts teasing him again, trailing kisses down his stomach.
“I think there is something you should know,” Sunggyu says, twirling Woohyun’s curls with his hand.
“Hmm?”
“I don’t have a lot of experience for my age,” he confesses, irrationally nervous that his words will make the other man get up and leave. “Undo the allure, somehow. I’ve never really done this with anyone before.”
But Woohyun merely hums again, focused on the patch of skin right under his belly button.
“That’s because you were made for me,” he says. “I know you don’t understand it yet, but you will see.”
It sounds like both a promise and a threat, but Sunggyu is too distracted by Woohyun’s mouth when he returns the favor. The other man suckles on the glans at first, and then slowly, torturously, envelops him in his warmth before bobbing his head over and over.
With his hand still tangled in Woohyun’s hair, Sunggyu realizes he could be as rough as Woohyun was with him earlier today. Instead, he relaxes, willingly giving up control for the pleasure it brings.
Woohyun is so good with his mouth that Sunggyu barely feels the intrusion when he pushes a finger in. It’s until he’s pushing a second one, expertly opening him up, that he squirms, but Woohyun keeps him still with a firm hand on his hip.
Without protest, Sunggyu obeys.
He whimpers again when Woohyun brushes over a particular spot inside him, unconsciously widening the gap on his legs, seeking more of the touch. Soon enough, a third finger is added. Among all the stimulation coming from different sides, Sunggyu feels himself about to burst.
“Hey, I’m getting close,” he says, pulling at the soft strands under his fingertips. “Woohyun, I think—”
Woohyun stops abruptly, and Sunggyu cries in confusion.
“Fuck, I think that’s the first time you’ve said my name,” he says, leaning back to get rid of his clothes. He’s hard once more. As he finds his place between Sunggyu’s legs, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of his nose, he adds, “Can you say that again?”
“Say please,” Sunggyu replies, hypnotized by his lips.
“Please say my name again, Sunggyu.”
Sunggyu hums, burning at the area where they’re almost touching, trying to guide Woohyun inside him.
“Woohyun,” he concedes, and the man finally drives in. “Woohyun-ah.”
The other hisses, hands immediately flying to Sunggyu’s hips to pull their bodies closer until he bottoms out. Sunggyu thought the fingers stretching him would be sufficient, but he feels so full, he wonders if he should’ve asked for more preparation. Although it stings at first, though, that is also replaced by pleasure soon enough. It’s better than what he fantasized about. It’s everything he wanted and more.
Woohyun seems to be going through the same; a dream realized for him, no doubt. “Fuck, it’s just like I imagined.”
“Mmm?” Sunggyu moans, feeling Woohyun drag himself out and push back in. Roughly, but not enough. “Is it, Woohyunie?”
“Fuck,” the man mutters, folding him in half, and starts ramming into him.
Sunggyu curses too, unable to keep up with the thrusts. Tries to meet him in his intensity, but it’s too much, so he has no choice but to lie down and take it.
Every snap of Woohyun’s hips feels like it’s destroying him from the inside, but in a good way. Remolding him so that he won’t forget the shape.
Unable to hold on any longer, he pulls at Woohyun by the hair and smashes their lips together, coming between their bodies completely untouched.
Woohyun fucks him through the aftershocks and beyond, unrelenting when Sunggyu asks him to slow down.
“I can’t—anymore,” he warbles on, half-stupid with how good it feels, despite the discomfort.
Woohyun shakes his head, the movement sending droplets of sweat everywhere. “I think you can, though?”
“Woohyun,” he warns, oversensitive to the point he wants to cry.
“Come on, one more for me, please,” the other man says, his hand wrapped around Sunggyu’s cock, and Sunggyu nearly convulses. “Don’t you want to?”
Sunggyu shuts his eyes, unwilling to face the reality that what the other man is saying is true.
“I want to,” he sobs, shivering at the admission. Woohyun rocks inside him, still moving at a steady pace. “I just don’t know if I can.”
“You can,” Woohyun presses, quickening the movement of his hand until Sunggyu is coming undone again, nearly dry this time. It is suffering and delight combined; it is unrelenting passion. Sunggyu wants to keep going forever, but wants it to end as well.
Luckily for him, it doesn’t take long for Woohyun to reach his own climax. The young man wraps his whole body around Sunggyu’s and fills his face with kisses, muttering how he knew he could do it, he did so well.
Sunggyu flinches when Woohyun pulls out, and rolls over to curl into the other man’s embrace. He’s not even sure why he does it; it just feels natural to him. Woohyun is quick to wrap his arms around him and press a kiss to Sunggyu’s knuckles in an uncharacteristically chivalrous move, considering… everything.
“I,” Sunggyu tries to find his voice, slowly coming out of his daze. Woohyun shushes him, petting him until he’s able to speak again. His eyes are very shiny, full of life. “Wow.”
Woohyun smiles. “Right?”
“I think I’ll have to call off tomorrow,” he says once he’s able to formulate words again. He makes himself more comfortable on the bed, snuggling against Woohyun despite his best judgement. They should shower, but he does not care. “I don’t think I’ll be able to move.”
“Tomorrow, and the day after. Or better yet, just take the week off.” Then he gasps, like he just had the best idea in the world. “Quit your job.”
Sunggyu narrows his eyes, shoving him lightly. “I can’t do that. We have so much to do. You’re in the campaign, you should know.”
“Okay, in that case just tell them you’re working directly with one of the talents. Coming up with new strategies, immersing yourself in the field.” He stops talking, but only to steal a kiss from Sunggyu’s gaping mouth. “Whatever you marketing people say.”
“Woohyun, that’s not how it works!”
“I look forward to our mutual understanding and cooperation.”