GBH 108

The closely pressed bodies, especially the pulse transmitted through the palm, conveyed their excessive metabolism without filter. Song Yi-heon felt a sense of shame as if caught naked and tried to push Se-kyung away.

However, the hand meant to push Se-kyung was caught and placed on Se-kyung’s chest. Under his palm, Se-kyung’s rapid heartbeat transmitted. It was the throbbing of a heart expanded to its limit, pulsing like a fist.

It was similar in speed to Song Yi-heon’s. Because their emotions were similar, their heartbeats were also alike.

Gradually, the two heartbeats pulsed as one breath. Confirming their shared feelings, Se-kyung pressed his upper body closer. With their hands on each other’s chests, they were touching from the solar plexus down. Through the fabric, they could feel the contours of their tense abdomens, and the pressing sensation of their genitals side by side brought heat and stimulation.

The murky orange streetlight encouraged their excitement. Song Yi-heon unknowingly parted his lips slightly, panting softly. Se-kyung turned his head towards the dark cave visible between Song Yi-heon’s lips.

There was no soft fragrance or neat face. Se-kyung, who had come from cleaning up the chaotic festival, smelled of dust. His usually fine hair was disheveled, revealing half his forehead, and his face looked tired and sharp.

“You like me, don’t you?”

“…”

To widen the distance from Choi Se-kyung, whose lips were almost touching his, Song Yi-heon pressed his back against the wall and tucked his chin. Yet the distance where they could feel each other’s breath remained unchanged. Song Yi-heon’s Adam’s apple bobbed, unable to hide his discomfort. What he had wanted to avoid had become reality.

He didn’t want to face this situation. He had fled the festival in chaos because he didn’t want to be in a position where he couldn’t deny his feelings. Yet he couldn’t escape Choi Se-kyung’s persistence.

Unlike Se-kyung, who was pushing forward recklessly due to overwhelming passion, Song Yi-heon was rational.

There were many obstacles to developing a relationship based on love alone. Age, gender, the possibility of Song Yi-heon’s real soul appearing later… In contrast to Se-kyung, who had no hesitation in pushing forward due to lack of worldly experience, Song Yi-heon, with his old soul, considered and was conscious of various conditions.

Even if they dated, transcending age and gender, it would be Se-kyung who would be left behind. Because he wouldn’t be able to forsake Song Yi-heon’s real soul. If that was the case, it was better to cause trouble by overturning the festival than to hurt Choi Se-kyung’s feelings. This too, although different in method, came from a place of love and care for Se-kyung.

Song Yi-heon’s Adam’s apple bobbed again as he swallowed. Despite his firm resolve, the more aware he became of Choi Se-kyung, the more sour saliva pooled in his mouth. 

Trying to break the increasingly intense atmosphere, he shouted, “F-Fine! I like you!” 

And without giving Se-kyung time to rejoice, he added a flimsy excuse, “A-As a friend! I like you as a friend!”

“Do you kiss your friends? Does your heart race like this when you see just a friend?”

Se-kyung raised one corner of his mouth as if pitying him, and frustratingly, Song Yi-heon couldn’t refute. It was too clear that a relationship that caused such a heartbeat couldn’t be just friendship. Yet he couldn’t think of any other excuse.

He couldn’t deny the clear heartbeat of Se-kyung transmitted through his palm, or his own heartbeat.

“I’m going to kiss you. If we’re just friends, push me away now.”

“Hey, mmph…!”

Before he could finish, their two lips that had been at a precarious distance overlapped. Se-kyung pressed and kneaded Song Yi-heon’s soft lower lip. As he sucked the lower lip into his mouth, squeezing it like dough, it quickly warmed and became moist.

His lips, wet and slick from being bitten and sucked, flushed with heat. Song Yi-heon tried to keep his mouth closed, but the ticklish warmth spreading from his lips made his throat constrict, and his mouth parted. Se-kyung’s tongue delved into the gap.

As saliva was exchanged, the kiss became different from any they had experienced before. It turned rough, like animals in heat. It was a clumsy kiss. Unable to control their overflowing vigor, they delved in with boiling greed. The kiss, pushed forward recklessly without any skill due to inexperience, was crude and rough, devoid of pleasure.

Yet Song Yi-heon’s lower back trembled slightly. If he were to lead, he could give a much more skilled and pleasurable kiss, but Se-kyung’s clumsy kiss was so stimulating that he couldn’t even think of such skilled kisses. It was a kiss that was full of the aspects of Se-kyung that Song Yi-heon found lovable.

Feeling his legs weaken, Song Yi-heon grasped Choi Se-kyung’s shoulders. Even so, his back slid down the wall. Se-kyung bent his waist, following Song Yi-heon as he sank down. Se-kyung’s sharp jawline stood out as he twisted his head, trying not to separate their entangled tongues and overlapped lips.

Se-kyung knelt with one knee between Song Yi-heon’s legs as he sat on the ground. He cupped Song Yi-heon’s cheeks and rubbed his languid tongue against his. The sensation of sweat seeping into his nape and the warm heat pooling below his navel was addictive.

Only when their lips parted, unable to breathe, did Song Yi-heon push Se-kyung away.

“Ah, no.”

His voice came out trembling. Even Song Yi-heon thought it was stupid and pathetic to push away after they had already done so much, but for now, this was the best he could do.

Se-kyung, holding Song Yi-heon’s cheeks, ignored his protest and tried to kiss him again. 

But Song Yi-heon urgently pushed his shoulders and cried out, “You’re a m-minor!”

Se-kyung snorted at his rejection, which made him look like an innocent country boy.

“It’s okay. To others, we both look like minors.”

“Hey, I, I’m…” Song Yi-heon mumbled with his swollen, wet lips. 

Choi Se-kyung couldn’t take his eyes off those lips, which shone with a faint gloss from his saliva. As Se-kyung lowered his head to kiss again, Song Yi-heon blocked his mouth with his palms. He had just thought of a new excuse. 

Song Yi-heon hurriedly reminded him of a student’s duty, “S-Studying!”

Se-kyung’s eyes narrowed in displeasure.

“C-College entrance exam. We have to take the college entrance exam.” Song Yi-heon hastily emphasized. It was such an appropriate excuse that it was strange he hadn’t thought of it earlier.

“I-I won’t date until after the college entrance exam.”

Se-kyung’s searching gaze was persistent, trying to determine if this was sincere or just a means of avoidance. Song Yi-heon, with flushed cheeks from the kiss, breathless and dazed, didn’t seem very convincing. But Se-kyung, who was expected to be stubborn until the end, surprisingly retreated without resistance.

“Okay.” Se-kyung pressed firmly on Song Yi-heon’s lips as if stamping a seal and let go of his cheeks.

“I’ll wait until after the college entrance exam.”

The fake Song Yi-heon devoted himself to studying for the exam, not knowing when the real Song Yi-heon’s soul might arrive. Preparing for an uncertain future wasn’t something that could be done with ordinary willpower; it showed how desperate he was. And Se-kyung had been a witness to this desperate wish.

He couldn’t be an obstacle that would leave regrets when he should be helping. The Song Yi-heon that Se-kyung liked was confident and achieved his goals, so Se-kyung wanted to give him what he wanted.

“I can’t wait any longer than that.”

But that was the limit. Se-kyung hugged Song Yi-heon. There was no guarantee that the body in his arms would always be the person Se-kyung loved.

Truly, he couldn’t wait any longer than that.