The atmosphere in the room had softened into something warm and intimate. Haneul was leaning contentedly against Ji-won's shoulder, pointing at a landscape, when Ji-won gently took the sketchbook to get a closer look.
"Let me see the earlier ones," Ji-won said, his voice a soft rumble near Haneul's ear.
Haneul, lulled into a false sense of security, just nodded, nuzzling closer. "Mhm, okay."
Ji-won began flipping back through the pages. He saw beautiful studies of clouds, quick sketches of their friends, a very detailed drawing of a tornado potato. He smiled at a page filled with comical caricatures of his own face—frowns, pouts, and one with a ridiculously large mustache.
"I have never made this expression," Ji-won stated, a quiet chuckle escaping him as he pointed to one where he was drawn with hearts for eyes.
Haneul blushed, giggling. "That's how you look at me sometimes! In my head, at least!"
Ji-won's smile was gentle as he turned the page. And then, he froze.
The next page was not a funny caricature.
It was a detailed, loving, and shockingly intimate study. Of him. It started with his face, then his shoulders, his back. The lines were confident, the shading expert. And then the sketches became… more.
There was a detailed drawing of his torso, his abdominal muscles defined under the careful stroke of charcoal. Another of his lean hips. And then, a full-frontal, nude portrait. Every line, every curve, every intimate detail was rendered with a breathtaking, almost reverent precision. His member was clearly, unmistakably drawn.
The air was sucked out of the room.
Haneul, feeling Ji-won's entire body go rigid, looked up. His eyes followed Ji-won's gaze to the open page.
The blood drained from Haneul's face. "NO!" he yelped, scrambling to snatch the book back. "That's—! Give it back!"
But Ji-won's grip was like iron. He didn't look at Haneul. His eyes were locked on the drawing, wide with a mixture of sheer, unadulterated shock and something else—something hot and unreadable.
"Haneul," he said, his voice dangerously quiet. It wasn't a question. It was a demand for an explanation.
Haneul covered his burning face with his hands, his words a mortified, frantic mumble. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean for you to see that! It was… it was just… I was… curious!"
Ji-won finally tore his gaze from the page and looked at Haneul, who was peeking through his fingers, looking utterly horrified. The initial shock was receding, replaced by a slow, burning heat that spread through his veins. He saw the raw honesty in the art, the desire, the admiration.
He slowly closed the sketchbook, the soft thud echoing in the silent room. He placed it carefully on the bedside table.
Then, he turned back to Haneul. He didn't look angry. He looked… intense.
"Curious?" he repeated, his voice a low, husky whisper that made Haneul shiver.
Ji-won didn't move back. Instead, he shifted, caging Haneul between his arms on the bed, leaning in so close their noses almost touched. Haneul's heart was a frantic bird against his ribs.
"I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry, I'll rip the page out, I'll burn it, I'll—" Haneul babbled, his eyes screwed shut in shame.
"Haneul," Ji-won's voice cut through the panic, low and steady. "I'm not mad about the sketch."
Haneul's eyes fluttered open, wide with disbelief and a flicker of hope. "R-really?" he whispered, his lower lip trembling.
Ji-won's gaze was dark, intense, but a ghost of a smirk played on his lips. "No." He leaned even closer, his breath fanning Haneul's face. "I'm mad that you made my member so small."
Haneul gasped, his entire face flushing a spectacular crimson. "What?!" he squeaked, mortification warring with a sudden, absurd sense of artistic offense. "That's… that's an average size! Okay? It's perfectly average!"
Ji-won raised an eyebrow, the smirk becoming more pronounced. "Is it now?" he murmured, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "And what, pray tell, made you think that is an average size?"
Haneul froze. His mouth opened and closed like a fish. The truth—that it was roughly based on his own, the only reference he had—was too humiliating to voice. He just stared, blushing furiously.
Ji-won watched his internal struggle, the way his cheeks puffed out in flustered indignation. A low, genuine chuckle rumbled in his chest. The sound was so rare and warm it made Haneul's head spin.
"Would you…" Ji-won began, his voice laced with a playful, dangerous tease, "…like to see for yourself? Get a more accurate reference?"
Haneul's brain short-circuited. He gulped, his throat suddenly dry. A thousand images, thoughts, and wild curiosities he'd secretly harbored crashed together. He tried to form a word, any word, but all that came out was a strangled, breathy sound.
Seeing him utterly speechless, Ji-won's chuckle deepened into a soft laugh.
That was the final straw for Haneul. The embarrassment, the tension, the overwhelming desire—it all coalesced into a single, brave impulse. He reached up, tangled his hands in the front of Ji-won's shirt, and pulled him down into a deep, desperate, silencing kiss.
It was an answer. A messy, passionate, and utterly unequivocal yes.
Ji-won's soft laugh was swallowed whole by Haneul's desperate kiss. For a second, he froze, stunned by the sudden, fierce intensity. But the feel of Haneul's tongue sweeping into his mouth, the desperate hands fisting in his shirt, shattered his last shred of control. With a low groan, Ji-won gave in.
He kissed him back, deep and hungry, his own hands coming up to cradle Haneul's face, tilting it for a better angle. The world narrowed to the taste of Haneul, the soft sounds of their lips meeting, the frantic beat of their hearts. Haneul, emboldened, moved against him. He arched his hips off the bed, rubbing himself against the hard line of Ji-won's erection through their clothes.
The friction sent a jolt of pure, white-hot pleasure through them both. Ji-won gasped into the kiss, his body tensing. "H-Haneul-" he tried to pull back, his voice ragged, his mind screaming for a sliver of sanity, for control. But Haneul was having none of it. He chased Ji-won's retreating lips, his own movements becoming more frantic.
"Don't stop," he pleaded against his mouth, his voice a broken whisper. "Please, Jiwon-ssi." He could feel Ji-won's hardness pressing against his own, a mirror of his own desperate need. The theoretical sketch was gone, replaced by a thrilling, terrifying reality. He rocked his hips again, a slow, deliberate grind that made Ji-won shudder and bury a choked moan in his neck. Ji-won's resolve crumbled. The feel of Haneul, warm and pliant and wanting beneath him, was an addiction he had no power to fight.
His hands slid from Haneul's face, down his sides, settling on his hips to still his movements, but only for a moment. His own hips gave an involuntary, answering thrust, and he felt Haneul gasp and arch against him, his head thrown back, exposing the long, elegant line of his throat. Control was a distant memory. There was only this-the heat, the friction, the overwhelming need to be closer, to erase every inch of space between them.
The world narrowed to the space of their single bed, the air thick with the sound of their ragged breaths and the rustle of clothing. When Haneul broke the kiss, his chest was heaving. His gaze, dark with desire and a hint of shy awe, drifted down between their bodies. He looked at the very obvious, hard outline of his own arousal straining against his pajama pants, then back up at Ji-won with flushed cheeks and pleading, desperate eyes.
"Jiwon-ssi," he breathed, his voice a shaky whisper. "Help me... I don't... I don't know what to do." Ji-won froze, completely captivated. Seeing Haneul like this-so open, so trusting, so beautifully lost-shattered the last of his own reservations. He hesitated for only a second, a silent war in his eyes, before giving a single, sharp nod. "Okay," he whispered, the word a vow. He captured Haneul's lips in another deep, consuming kiss, pouring all his own pent-up longing into it.
As their tongues tangled, his hand, which had been resting on Haneul's hip, began a slow, deliberate journey south. It slid under the loose waistband of Haneul's pants, past the line of his underwear, until his fingers wrapped around Haneul's hot, hard length. Haneul gasped into the kiss, his entire body jolting at the contact. It was the first time anyone else had ever touched him there.
The sensation was so overwhelming, electric, it stole his breath. Driven by a mirroring need, Haneul's own hand fumbled between them, sliding beneath Ji-won's waistband. His fingers brushed against coarse hair, then found their goal. He wrapped his hand around Ji-won's cock and froze. His eyes, which had been squeezed shut in pleasure, flew wide open. It was... substantial.
The sketch had been a lie. A hopeful, naive, grossly underestimated lie. He broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to stare at Ji-won with a mixture of shock, awe, and a fresh wave of burning curiosity. "Can I..." Haneul gulped, his voice trembling. "Can I... see?"
Haneul's chest was heaving, his eyes dark with a mix of fear and desperate want. He looked at Ji-won, a silent, pleading question in his gaze. Ji-won, his own control hanging by a thread, gave a single, slow nod. His eyes never leaving Haneul's, his hands moved to the waistband of his pants. With a deliberate slowness that made Haneul's heart hammer, he pushed them down, along with his boxers. Haneul's breath caught in his throat. It was... more. Thicker, longer, and undeniably hard. The reality of Ji-won, fully erect and exposed before him, was overwhelming.
The sketch in his book was a pale, childish imitation. He gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out. His fingers trembled as they made contact with the warm, velvety skin. He wrapped his hand around the base, his grip tentative. A sharp, guttural moan escaped Ji-won's lips. His eyes fluttered shut for a second, his head falling back.
The sensation of Haneul's touch- so innocent and yet so intimate-was almost too much to bear. Encouraged by the reaction, Haneul's touch grew more confident. He began to move his hand, almost too much to bear. Encouraged by the reaction, Haneul's touch grew more confident. He began to move his hand, a slow, experimental stroke. His artist's eyes were wide, taking in every detail-the way the skin shifted, the prominent veins, the flushed, leaking tip.
It was the most beautiful, terrifying, and fascinating thing he had ever seen. "J-Jiwon-ssi..." Haneul whispered, his voice full of awe. Ji-won could only manage a ragged breath, his hips giving a slight, involuntary thrust into Haneul's hand. He was completely at the mercy of the boy who had once been too scared to say hello, and now held the most vulnerable part of him in his hand.
The world had narrowed to the space of the small bed, the air thick with the scent of salt, sweat, and their shared warmth. The frantic energy of the kiss had melted into something slower, deeper. Clothes were shed not in a rush, but with trembling, reverent hands, as if uncovering something sacred.
They came together in a slow, breathless collision, a perfect, gasping fit of two puzzle pieces no one knew were missing. It was clumsy and perfect, all whispered encouragements and shuddering sighs. Haneul's head fell back, a soft cry escaping his lips as he clung to Ji-won, his fingers digging into his back. Ji-won, his own control shattering, buried his face in Haneul's neck, his name a broken prayer on his lips.
For a moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breaths mingling in the quiet room, the universe holding its breath with them.
Then, as the last tremors subsided, Haneul's head lolled to the side, a slow, dazed, and utterly satisfied smile spreading across his kiss-swollen lips. His eyes, heavy-lidded and dark with spent passion, found Ji-won's.
Ji-won, propped on his elbows above him, was breathing heavily. His usual icy composure was utterly gone, replaced by a raw, open wonder. He looked down at Haneul—at the sweat-damp hair sticking to his forehead, the blush painting his chest, the blissful, sated expression on his face—as if he were the most breathtaking masterpiece he had ever seen.
He didn't speak. He didn't need to. He just lowered his head, his heavy-lidded gaze never leaving Haneul's, and captured his lips in a soft, lingering kiss that was more profound than any word could ever be. It was a seal. A promise. The final, silent stroke of color on the canvas of their first time.
The morning air was crisp, filled with the sound of suitcases being loaded onto the bus. The students milled about, the usual post-trip exhaustion tinged with a new, unspoken tension. Ji-won descended the stairs, his expression back to its usual neutral state, though his knuckles were still faintly bruised.
Doyun was already there, standing awkwardly with his teammates. A large, purplish bruise bloomed across his jaw, and he couldn't quite meet anyone's eyes. When he saw Haneul and Ji-won together, he took a deep breath and walked over, his steps heavy with remorse.
He stopped in front of them, his gaze fixed on the ground.
"Hey," Doyun began, his voice rough. He cleared his throat. "I... I owe you both an apology. A real one."
He looked at Haneul first. "Haneul-ah, I'm sorry. I was drunk and stupid and I completely crossed a line. I never should have tried to... you know. It was disrespectful and it wasn't okay." His words were sincere, stripped of all his usual bravado.
He then turned to Ji-won, flinching slightly as he met his eyes. "And Ji-won... I'm sorry for everything. For all the crap I gave you, for pushing you, for last night. You were right to be angry. I was being a pathetic jerk." He gestured to his bruised jaw. "I probably deserved worse."
He shuffled his feet, looking utterly defeated. "I get it now. I really do. So... I'm sorry."
Haneul's expression softened. "It's okay, Doyun-ah. We all did stupid things last night."
Ji-won regarded him for a long, silent moment. Then, he gave a single, curt nod. "The matter is concluded," he said, his voice flat but not unkind. "No further action is required."
It was the closest to forgiveness Doyun was going to get, and he knew it. He nodded back, a wave of relief washing over his features. "Okay. Okay, good."
With the air finally cleared, the three of them stood there—no longer rivals, just three boys who had weathered a storm and come out the other side, a little bruised, but infinitely wiser.
Life after the Jeju trip settled into a new, warmer rhythm. The rigid lines that had once defined their groups blurred and then vanished altogether. They were no longer just "art kids" and "basketball jocks"; they were a unit, bound by shared secrets and a hard-won understanding.
Haneul and Ji-won's relationship blossomed in the open. They were inseparable. They'd walk to school hand-in-hand, Ji-won carrying both their art portfolios. They spent lunches on the rooftop with Min-seo and, surprisingly, Doyun, who had traded his jealous glares for a grudging, then genuine, respect.
Ji-won, slowly but surely, began to unfurl. The fortress around him didn't just have a door now; it had windows, thrown wide open to let the sunshine in. He started attending their casual gatherings, no longer sitting in silence but offering dry, witty remarks that would send the whole group into fits of laughter. He even began to initiate contact, a hand on Haneul's lower back, fingers brushing through his hair—small, public affirmations that never failed to make Haneul's heart soar.
The most shocking change, however, was when Ji-won started suggesting they bunk classes.
It began small. "The light in the art room is poor today," he'd state, closing his textbook. "The park would be a more optimal location for studying light and shadow."
Translation: Let's go skip class and paint by the pond.
Haneul would gasp in mock scandal, then giggle and pack his bag in two seconds flat. They'd spend the afternoon not studying, but lying on the grass, Haneul's head in Ji-won's lap as Ji-won read aloud from a book, his voice a soft, steady murmur against the backdrop of the city.
Doyun, now a frequent fixture in their lives, would sometimes join them, having successfully convinced his own teacher of a "strategic team-building exercise." He and Ji-won had developed a quiet camaraderie, built on a foundation of mutual apology and a shared, protective fondness for Haneul.
The grey, controlled world Han Ji-won had built for survival was gone. In its place was something vibrant, loud, and beautifully messy. It was a life filled with laughter, with stolen kisses in empty hallways, with friends who had seen him at his worst and stayed, and with a boy who had painted his world in colors he never knew existed. He was no longer just surviving. For the first time, he was truly living.
One Day
The school day felt wrong from the start. The seat next to Haneul was conspicuously empty. Ji-won, who had perfect attendance, who was more reliable than the school bell, was absent.
Haneul's cheerful "Good morning!" died in his throat. He spent the first period staring at the empty chair, a cold knot of worry tightening in his stomach.
At lunch, he found Min-seo. "Have you heard from Jiwon-ssi? He's not here."
Min-seo's eyes widened. "What? No. Nothing. That's... weird. Did he text you?"
Haneul checked his phone for the hundredth time. The last message was from last night, a simple Goodnight. from Ji-won. "No. Nothing."
The worry grew into full-blown anxiety throughout the day. Ji-won never missed school. He never missed work. After the final bell, Haneul didn't go to the art club. He ran straight to the convenience store where Ji-won worked.
He burst through the door, the electronic chime sounding overly cheerful. "Excuse me!" he called out to the employee stocking shelves—a different guy than usual.
The man looked up. "Yeah?"
"Is Jiwon-ssi here? Han Ji-won?"
"Nope. He didn't show up for his shift today. Didn't call either. It's a pain, honestly."
The confirmation felt like a punch to the gut. Haneul's hands started to tremble. "Do you... do you know where he lives? His address? It's really important."
The employee shook his head, looking annoyed. "No way. We don't keep that stuff. Look, kid, I'm busy."
"Please," Haneul begged, his voice cracking with desperation. "You have to know something! A general area? Anything?"
"Sorry. No idea," the man said, turning his back to continue stocking.
Haneul stood frozen in the middle of the store, the fluorescent lights humming overhead. Ji-won was missing. He wasn't at school, he wasn't at work, and no one knew where he was. The carefully constructed, happy world they had built together suddenly felt terrifyingly fragile. The cold, grey fear he hadn't felt in months came rushing back, threatening to swallow him whole.
Haneul stood paralyzed on the sidewalk outside the convenience store, tears of frustration and fear pricking his eyes. Where could he be?
"Excuse me."
A smooth, calm voice spoke from beside him. Haneul turned to see a man in a sharp, expensive-looking suit. He was handsome, but with a tired, worldly air that made him seem older. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but Haneul couldn't place it.
"Why are you looking for Ji-won?" the man asked, his gaze intent.
Haneul, too worried to be cautious, spilled everything. "He's my classmate! He didn't come to school today, he's not answering his phone, and he didn't show up for work! No one knows where he is! Do you know him?"
The man studied Haneul's desperate face for a long moment, then gave a slow, thoughtful nod. "I do."
"How?" Haneul pressed. "Who are you?"
A shadow passed over the man's face. "An old friend of his father's," he lied smoothly. "Would you believe me if I told you I know his address?"
Haneul's eyes widened. Hope warred with suspicion. "You do? How? Please, you have to tell me!"
The man hesitated, as if weighing a decision, then recited an address in a part of the city Haneul knew was run-down and dangerous. "Apartment 4B."
Haneul's blood ran cold. That wasn't the kind of place Ji-won would live. The Ji-won he knew was orderly and clean. "Are… are you sure?"
"It's the address I have," the man said, his expression unreadable. "Be careful." With that, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.
Driven by a desperate need to find Ji-won, Haneul took a taxi to the address. The neighborhood was as grim as he feared—dim, narrow streets, buildings stained with grime. His heart hammered as he found the building and climbed the dark, echoing stairs to the fourth floor.
He stood before door 4B, his hand trembling. He took a deep breath and knocked.
A few seconds passed. Then, the lock clicked. The door creaked open just a crack.
And there he was.
Ji-won. But it was a Ji-won Haneul had never seen. His skin was pale and clammy, his eyes shadowed and glassy with fever. He was leaning heavily against the doorframe, wearing a thin, worn-out t-shirt, shivering despite the stuffy heat of the hallway.
He blinked, his feverish gaze struggling to focus. "…Haneul?" his voice was a raw, weak whisper. "What… what are you doing here?"