GB 127

Yoon Moo-hwa suppressed a smile as he sensed Haero gradually leaning toward his body.

Before long, Yoon Moo-hwa found himself lying back against the sofa’s armrest. And of course, Haero was on top of him.

“We did it yesterday. We should rest today.”

“I’m the doctor.”

Haero pulled Yoon Moo-hwa’s hand and pushed it inside his t-shirt. He guided it up to his chest, then covered the back of Yoon Moo-hwa’s hand with his own, interlacing their fingers to rub his nipple.

“My body is fine. And your body is healthy too.”

Yoon Moo-hwa took Haero’s index and middle fingers into his mouth. The way he licked them slowly was incredibly sensual. Haero’s cheeks flushed red. His young body was susceptible to excitement, and visual stimulation sometimes exceeded tactile stimulation.

After wetting the fingers, Yoon Moo-hwa slipped his hand into Haero’s pants. Then he brushed against Haero’s entrance.

“It’s swollen plump like Haero’s lips.”

That meant no. Haero knew that Yoon Moo-hwa was quite stubborn and resolute in carrying out his intentions. He was very much a stern military man.

“That expression won’t change the fact that what’s not possible isn’t possible.”

He spoke firmly yet gently. Haero found it hard to accept. He moved his hips in awkward motions on top of Yoon Moo-hwa. 

When Yoon Moo-hwa laughed at the sight, Haero snapped, “Don’t laugh!”

He was seriously trying to be seductive, and being laughed at to his face was upsetting and hurt his pride.

“Do I amuse you?”

To the grumbling Haero, Yoon Moo-hwa shook his head, still with traces of laughter.

“No. You’re sexy. Too sexy.”

“Liar.”

Haero reached behind him and grabbed Yoon Moo-hwa’s dick. Just a moment ago, it had seemed rigidly erect, but now it was lying heavily as usual. He must have firmly decided not to proceed after seeing the condition of Haero’s entrance.

“You still see me as a child, don’t you?”

Haero’s lips quivered as he said this. He was trying not to laugh. Now that he understood Yoon Moo-hwa’s heart clearly, when Haero asked such things, it wasn’t because he was genuinely upset. It was like an inside joke between them.

“Of course. Haero is my baby.” Yoon Moo-hwa grabbed Haero’s buttocks. Even so, he was careful not to harm Haero’s swollen entrance. “I raised you, how could I not know?”

“…I grew up on my own, you know.”

“Really? I don’t think so.” Yoon Moo-hwa’s hands roamed over Haero’s thighs before gripping his knees. “I saw you when you had growing pains.”

Then he grasped Haero’s flat chest. “I saw when your torso grew too big for junior-sized clothes. I saw it all.”

Next, he caressed Haero’s cheeks and chin. “I taught you how to shave. I did it all for you.”

“…”

“I even know that Haero doesn’t need to shave because he doesn’t have body hair.”

“…I heard there are people like that sometimes.”

“That’s right. With so many people in the world. It’s estimated there are still between 3.5 and 3.8 billion.”

“That’s not funny. That kind of talk.”

“No, it’s important.”

Yoon Moo-hwa pulled Haero’s head. Then he buried him in his embrace, pressing Haero’s face against his chest.

“How important is it that we met among all those people?”

Indeed, their meeting was a miracle. Who would have known that they would meet like that, after being left behind, and save each other? Yoon Moo-hwa knew that although it wasn’t officially mentioned, several romance dramas were based on their story. Haero, who had no interest in others’ romances—or others at all—probably didn’t know.

Yoon Moo-hwa found such a Haero very admirable and lovable. He hoped Haero would always remain far from altruism.

“I won’t be swayed by that kind of coaxing.”

Haero mumbled. But Yoon Moo-hwa knew that Haero’s excitement had subsided a layer.

He closed his eyes and patted Haero’s body. Having just woken up, he wasn’t sleepy, but pleasantly languid. Haero’s large eyes were half-closed. 

Yoon Moo-hwa buried his nose in Haero’s fluffy, soft hair, took a deep breath, and then asked as if he couldn’t hold back, “Haero, shall we leave the service?”

The answer was predictable.

“Absolutely not. Do you know how hard it was for me to get in there?”

Like a growling small dog. Yoon Moo-hwa knew Haero would be upset if he laughed, but he couldn’t help it.

After being lazy a bit longer, they got up and made pasta. He chopped garlic and fried it with pepperoncini and olive oil to make oil pasta. Haero ate well, and Yoon Moo-hwa found that very pleasing to see.

A few days later, coincidentally while having dinner with the same menu of oil pasta, Yoon Moo-hwa received a message. It was from his father.

[Your condition has been accepted. Have him study veterinary medicine. Focus on large animals.]

It was a message with all subjects omitted, considering the risk of exposure.

Yoon Moo-hwa put the communication device in his pocket.

“Haero, I think you’ll need to study something.”

“What kind?”

Haero asked with a simple “Why?” instead. Haero’s lips, reddened by cabbage pickle juice from the side dish, glistened brightly. They looked delicious. 

Yoon Moo-hwa suppressed a sexual desire similar to hunger as he wiped those soft lips with his thumb. Then naturally bringing it to his own mouth and sucking it, he said,  “Veterinary medicine.” 

That was enough.

Haero realized they would be able to board the same ship again. Haero’s eyes sparkled like they were studded with stars, like a lighthouse in the dark night sea. 

Yes. That’s a lighthouse. 

Yoon Moo-hwa was the ship, and Haero was the lighthouse. Sometimes he was the lighthouse, and Haero was the ship. They had nowhere to anchor except with each other. They were beautiful eyes that moved even Yoon Moo-hwa, who was far from being sentimental.

“I can do it,” Haero answered promptly. “You know I’m smart, right? Just trust me.” 

“You’re not going to treat me with veterinary medicine.” 

“Yoon Moo-hwa is a beast too.” Haero glanced at him with a mischievous but endearing smile. “Your size down there is probably like a sea—” 

“No. That’s enough. Stop right there.” Yoon Moo-hwa tore off a piece of garlic bread and quickly covered Haero’s mouth. 

It was just the right size for Haero to chew comfortably. 

After swallowing, Haero teased with a laugh, “If you want to kiss me, you’ll need to brush your teeth at least three times.” 

“I’d do that anyway. By the way, how do you know about such things? Should I turn the child lock back on?” 

“This counts as studying, so the lock doesn’t apply,” Haero replied impishly, then popped a rolled-up pasta into Yoon Moo-hwa’s mouth.

Even though he was already full, he ate it without complaint.

They did the dishes together. Yoon Moo-hwa persuaded Haero, who wanted to start studying right away, that tomorrow would be soon enough, that it was already too late today. In truth, it wasn’t that late yet, but he didn’t want to lose Haero to studying.

He knew how deeply Haero could focus and how long he could stay immersed once he set a goal. Even though it was something Haero needed, Yoon Moo-hwa stubbornly didn’t want to lose this child to other pursuits. He knew it was childish behavior on his part, but he couldn’t help it.

He embraced Haero and they shared ice cream. It was green tea flavored. Together, they watched a documentary series about how the Arctic Ocean had changed and what global chaos ensued during that process.

“You don’t remember an Arctic with ice either, right?” 

“No,” Yoon Moo-hwa nodded as he took the ice cream Haero passed to him while nestled in his arms. “By then, all the ice had melted and the Second Buoyancy Point War was happening.” 

“Was the war bad?” 

“Pretty bad.”

That’s what he knew.

In fact, far more people were killed by other people than by the rising sea levels. The sea quietly swallows and erases without a trace, but war is not like that. For a while, they said the Arctic Ocean’s problem wasn’t the vanished ice but the corpses, missiles, and shell casings left behind.

A dead sea. But one believed to be reviving and in the process of resurrection.

“Beautiful…” Haero murmured absentmindedly.

Yoon Moo-hwa, who had been watching only Haero the whole time, finally turned his head to see what Haero was admiring.

There was the Arctic as it had been with ice. A white bear trudged across it. A species now extinct. Penguins could also be seen. Another species that can no longer be seen. The genes of countless vanished animals have been cloned and preserved separately, but they cannot be revived because there is no land for them to live on. The technology exists, but there is no home.

Though it wouldn’t be anyone’s homeland, Yoon Moo-hwa and Haero looked at the Arctic as if it were their own native place.

Yoon Moo-hwa was simply fulfilling his duty; he had no emotional attachment to a world already dead. After all, he too was born in a dead world.

But when Haero’s large eyes filled with blue and white, an irresistible feeling began to swell within him.