Work Text:
SPRING, 2025
Sunghoon found the button of his alarm before the first beep at 6:00 AM.
The sheets fell away when he sat up and he smoothed them back into place. Hospital corners, Mother had taught him that.
First, the bottom sheet was tucked tight beneath the mattress, then one edge of the sheet 40cm from the end of the mattress where it was placed on bed at a 45 degree angle. Folded down and tucked in. Never leave it without running a hand across the surface, feeling for imperfections. No place for wrinkles nor forgiveness.
The shower was scalding exactly how he liked it. Steam filled the bathroom, fogging the mirror, and he stood beneath the water for exactly ten minutes.
Before anything else, he wiped the fog from the glass and studied what looked back at him. Every morning, he'd shave, that'd be what a decent man would do. The blade rinsed and checked after every pass until his jaw was clean, not even the shadow of a stubble. He had seen other men walk around with that kind of carelessness on their faces and had never understood how they tolerated themselves.
Skincare should be in order of its consistency. Toner was carefully patted in with three fingers, essence layered beneath serum, an eye cream applied with a ring finger because the skin there was the thinnest, a chilled jade drawn out along the jaw and up beneath each eye to get rid of the morning swelling, sunscreen was applied thoroughly leaving not a single spot for the UVB to break in because nobody wanted a skin cancer. Real men wear makeup. Makeup should be subtle, he'd perfected his color correcting techniques because less is more—it's all about finding the right product in the right color. His thick brows were brushed and kept tidy because those were the focal point of his face. Lips should always be moisturized, men with chapped lips disgusted him.
The same steps and count every morning of his life.
He leaned close enough to the mirror that his breath bloomed against it, admiring his own face.
The body is a temple, Sunghoon. You must treat it with reverence. You must treat everything with reverence. Caring for oneself is one way to honor God.
What a long-winded way to say you should honor yourself.
Mother had taught him many lessons. How to fold hospital corners was just one among many. She had also taught him how to count pills and how to tell which ones would make you float and which ones would make you forget.
Today, he dressed in a meticulous black suit, white button-down, black tie knotted in a half-Windsor. Lastly, two stripes armband.
Mother's funeral.
The funeral of the woman in the photo frame surrounded by chrysanthemums, the woman the neighbors cry for, the woman who meant something to people who barely knew her, the woman who meant nothing to him. Sunghoon picked a nice picture of her to frame regardless. Mother had been part of his life, however incidentally, and so she ought to look presentable until the very end. Even if it meant the picture had to lie.
His somberness was merely a performance. He bowed and lowered his head because he had nothing to say about Mother. These acquaintances of Mother's who were obviously never her friends, they watched him and he intended them to see—grief. They saw a son who loved his mother. How lovely.
They patted his arm and whispered their condolences. They told him: she's in a better place, and he had to fight not to chuckle, because as far as he understood it there was no place better than the one she'd already had.
The police called yesterday and the first thing he felt was relief. She'd finally done it, took her long enough. They said it was an overdose, and the neighbor found her in her room because she hadn't shown up for Sunday service. They apologized for his loss, he'd hoped they also apologized for ruining his Sunday that's supposed to be for relaxation. They really couldn't wait until Monday, could they?
He'd rushed to the hospital to see her dead body still. What he'd looked forward to was discoloration and the beginning of decay. But when he'd arrived, she looked exactly as she had on the bedroom floor when he was 12—when he had found her with a bottle of oxycodone beside her. He'd thought she was dead then. He'd wished she was dead then.
She couldn't even give him the satisfaction of looking different in death. She had been dead all along.
Alas, he was kind enough to let these people think Mother had a son who loved her—he didn't, obviously. But he didn't hate her either, he simply did not care. Regardless, he closed his eyes when they prayed for her. It was his first and last gift for Mother.
Mother had been Catholic when it was convenient. Such as when she needed something to hold onto or needed to feel forgiven. She went to confession once a year on Christmas Eve and she always came out smiling. Christmas was the only lovely memory growing up. Because it was the only day Mother would act sane.
Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine. Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord.
On the last day, they buried Mother.
The priest sung, In paradisum deducant te angeli. May the angels lead you into paradise.
Mother's rosary wound around his wrist. Decades of thumbing had worn the ivory beads smooth, and the thin silver crucifix sat right against his pulse. He'd taken it from her body in the casket as it was meant to be buried with her, but he'd wound it around his wrist under his cuff instead. He liked how it looked there.
Angels. She didn't deserve angels. She had been a sinner. Demons would be more fitting; they'd have more to talk about.
An old woman took his hand. "She was such a kind woman. Such a beautiful soul. You must miss her terribly."
He looked at her with dry eyes and squeezed her hand back. I don't. I've been wishing for this circa Christmas 2014, but you look like you could die any second now, and I'd rather not do this twice this week. "Thank you."
Sunghoon stood at the foot of the grave, watching them leave. The priest shook his hand and offered hollow words. More people patted his arm and promised to pray for her soul. Uselessly optimistic that a prayer might still get her a seat upgrade in the afterlife. There's no saving a hypocrite sinner. But Catholics, right?
The wind picked up with the silence that was left behind, rustling the flowers left on the fresh mound. One by one, they drifted away. Everyone but one young man standing still at the back of the gathering with his face buried in his elbow.
Sunghoon looked around. Did he get the wrong grave?
When the young man lifted his head, his face was a total mess—tears streaming down his cheeks, nose red, eyes swollen. He wiped at his face with the back of his hand, smearing the tears across his skin. He finally realized Sunghoon was watching.
His cheeks flushed impossibly redder with embarrassment. He tried to compose himself and stop the tears, but they kept coming.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He walked toward Sunghoon and swallowed. "Sorry. I am Sunoo. I was one of Mrs. Park's students in high school. Five years ago."
Mother really managed to live a decent life somehow. Sunghoon wouldn't usually be surprised by Mother's deceit, but it was always a delight to hear how far she could fool people. Maybe he'd stay and listen to amuse himself.
Sunghoon smiled gently. "Thank you for coming."
"She was—she was a huge help to me. In high school. I was going through a really hard time, and she—she was the only person who cared." Sunoo pressed his hand to his chest. "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't be crying this much. It's just—" He smiled. "It's just that she meant so much to me."
Sunoo kept talking with each sentence choked with tears. He talked about high school and the afternoons he had spent with her and her kindness. Sunghoon stopped listening when he got too flowery with the anecdotes. What a bore.
The young man's face was more interesting to look at.
Sunoo's face was nothing special. Sunghoon had seen more beautiful faces—models, actors, strangers on the street who possessed features closer to perfection. But those faces were empty.
Sunoo's face was different. The tears wouldn't stop, leaking from his amber eyes in an endless stream, soaking his cheeks, his chin, the collar of his shirt. His swollen lips trembled with every word with tears pooling at his chin. But sometimes his red and puffy eyes shyly looked away from Sunghoon even with such tearful theatrics he was putting on. Ashamed of the very thing that made him beautiful.
Sunoo stopped talking and laughed at himself, wiping his face with his sleeve.
"I'm sorry," he said again. "I'm a mess. I don't even know why I'm still here. I just—I wanted to properly say goodbye."
"You did," Sunghoon assured. "She would have appreciated it."
Sunoo smiled sheepishly and apologetic. "Thank you for being so kind. I know this must be hard for you."
Hard? No. This is the easiest day I've had in years. "It's been a long day for everyone."
He saw the rosary around Sunghoon's wrist. "I remember that. She used to have it on her all the time."
"This? Right. She gave it to me."
"I could tell how much she loved you." She did. "I'm not really religious but I'll pray for her." She loved me as much as she believed in God.
Angelface, my Angelface.
I didn't recognize your face yet. You see, I am bad with faces.
But I remember you from that day, I remember how beautiful you were when you cried.
I want to see you cry again,
for me.
FALL, 2026
He didn't like the effect of coffee on him. All the jittering and racing heart. But he liked what it made him be: a person who drinks coffee, a morning habit like a true gentleman.
The barista crouched near the entrance of The Coffee Shop even though it was already time to open. His back turned to the street, feeding a stray cat and getting his knees dirty. His head snapped toward the street—and scrambled to his feet when he saw a customer, startling the cat into hiding.
"Sorry, sorry—" Sunoo muttered, brushing off his apron and rushing toward the door, nearly tripping over his own feet. Sunghoon followed.
"The usual."
Sunghoon waited. His fingers tapped against the counter. 7:16 AM. He was losing time.
"Sorry," the voice was breathless. God, can you stop apologizing? "Can you tell me what's your usual?"
The barista's apron was crooked and tied wrong. His hair was falling across his forehead in a messy haircut. His amber eyes—Sunghoon noticed, not many Koreans have eyes like his—were staring at him apologetically.
Sunghoon stared at him like he was dumb.
He had been coming to The Coffee Shop for six years. He had stopped saying his order because whoever's behind the counter would see him walk in and have his cup ready by the time he reached the counter.
"Are you perhaps… Yunah's regular?" Sunoo asked, fumbling with the register. "Ah, she quit last week. I'm Sunoo—" like his name mattered, "and I am new here. You can tell me what's your usual order and I promise I'll try to make it as good as she did!"
Sunghoon had no fucking idea who Yunah would be. He didn't usually bother with anyone's names or faces unless they were interesting or at the very least gave him something worth remembering.
"Can I have your name, at least?" the barista continued, typing something into the system. "I'll check the system real quick—if you're a regular it should pull up your usual."
Sunghoon felt the corner of his mouth twitch. He took his card out and placed it on the counter. "Decaf coffee and oat milk. No foam."
"Oh, okay. Coming right up!" Sunoo grabbed a cup and a pen. "Can I get a name for it?"
"Sunghoon."
Sunoo scribbled on the cup and turned to make the drink. Sunghoon didn't miss the nervous up-and-down glance that came with it and a little sway in his hip while he worked the steam wand.
Gay. Sunghoon clocked it instantly. No straight man's eyes would make check points on his face, chest, and hands like that.
Sunoo nodded at the TV bolted in the corner, a re-run of a football match running with the sound down. "Do you watch the game? The match last night was insane. I can't believe they—"
"I don't watch football."
Sunoo's smile faltered for just a second, but he recovered quickly. "Okay then, Sunghoon-ssi, if you don't watch football like the rest of us do… what do you do?"
Sunghoon considered him. He was trying so hard to keep the conversation going. It would be rude not to give him something to work with.
"I work at a hospital?" Sunghoon said with a lilt, a little playful mystery, mirroring Sunoo's own playfulness.
"Wait, you're a doctor?"
"Vet. The Animal Hospital, right down there." He tipped his head south, toward the window.
"It suits you," he bit his lip trying to find other things to say. "You dress really well."
He was trying to flirt; he was not subtle about it. He was not smooth in the slightest either, he was too clumsy. For someone whose job was talking to strangers all day, he wasn't the best at making small talks.
"What about you?" Sunghoon asked generously. "What do you do?"
The barista gestured at his apron, perhaps to be funny. "You mean except this?"
"Please take no offense, but you don't strike me as someone whose life's ambition is making coffee. Or is this—" he pointed at the apron, "—your dream?"
Sunoo's eyes went wide before he laughed again—embarrassed and flattered at the same time. "You got me. I'm trying to be an actor. Musical theater."
"Sounds like I'm right, then."
"Yeah, yeah." He was fighting a grin and losing. "I've been in a few things. All small roles."
"Anything I'd know?"
"Oh—you've watched musicals?"
"I have refined taste, believe it or not." Sunghoon smiled enough to be charming. "I don't watch football. But I watch art."
Sunoo was laughing hard, practically preening under it.
Feel special yet?
"I did The Phantom of the Opera," he said, leaning forward. "But it was a small role. I was one of the Two Epicene Men."
Sunghoon's eyes widened. He even let a gasp slip out. "That's you?"
Sunoo almost fell for it. "No, you're messing with me. You're totally messing with me."
"Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not." A new customer walked in. Sunghoon took his cup from the counter. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Sunoo smiled, a hopeful one. "I'll be here."
That same day Sunghoon walked home from work. Autumn rain was long, heavy, and relentless. Sunghoon almost didn't see him.
In front of The Coffee Shop, on his knees, Sunoo had both hands pressed over his mouth, his whole body shaking with sobs. A stray cat lay before him in a spreading pool of its own blood that's gradually being washed away by the rain. Its body was twisted and its white furs matted; no one would have guessed it was a white cat.
He was crying over a dead stray cat. But he was sobbing like it was his everything.
Sunghoon took a second and thought it would be nice perhaps to do something worth thanking today. He raised his umbrella over Sunoo's head. The rain stopped falling on him. Sunoo's face was a mess with tears streaming down his cheeks. His amber eyes were wide, devastated, and at the sight of Sunghoon: confused.
Sunghoon finally recognized those tears. Mother's funeral. That's where he saw those tears. The same tears that had made him want to press his thumb to his cheek and taste the salt of it, just to know what grief was made of.
An angelface.
Sunghoon offered his handkerchief. It took a while for Sunoo's mind to catch up. He accepted the gesture and pressed it to his face. He tried to stop crying, he obviously couldn't.
"It's okay," Sunghoon said gently. "Leave the body. I'll dispose of it."
Sunoo looked up. What a beautiful sight. "I—you don't have to—"
"I'll take care of it."
Sunoo didn't really have a choice.
Sunghoon handed him the umbrella. "Hold this."
Sunghoon rushed toward the convenience store at the corner and came back with a fistful of plastic bags. Sunoo was still crouched there, still sniffling pathetically. He opened the plastic bag and picked up the cat's body into it then knotted the bag shut. The blood dripped onto the pavement, diluted by the rain toward the gutter.
"Go home," Sunghoon suggested. "I'll take care of the rest."
In Seoul, there were proper channels for something like this. You could call the Dasan Call Center and let the city handle a dead stray. You could take it to a funeral facility and pay for a service. You could bag it as standard municipal waste and set it out with the rest of the week's trash, it'd be perfectly legal. Burials were the only thing off the table.
So many options to dispose of something that once mattered to someone. Toss it in the trash. Let the garbage truck take it. Let it rot in a landfill with the rest of the city's refuse.
He drove to a place on the outskirts of Seoul—a building that's closed for the night, and let himself through the back with his own set of keys. He walked the familiar hallway to the cremation room carrying the plastic bag with the dead cat. The blood had seeped through the first layer, staining the second.
He snapped a pair of gloves and relished in the moment inside of this familiar chamber. "Ah, it's been a while."
The second he got home, Sunghoon started stripping. Jacket, tie, shirt, undershirt, pants—each folded once, then shoved into a black garbage bag. He tied the bag and set it by the door.
In the shower, he scrubbed until his skin was raw and red. He hadn't learned this one from Mother, although perhaps in the aftermath of her.
He wrapped a towel around his waist and went to his room, digging through his briefcase for his phone. Something else came out with it—the handkerchief. He thought he'd already bagged it with the rest of his clothes. He almost dropped it straight into the trash but he stopped. He brought the handkerchief to his nose and inhaled. The fabric was soft, damp in places from Sunoo's tears. His eyes fluttered closed and his mouth went dry.
One breath, that's what Sunghoon told himself. Then he'd toss it into the garbage bag.
But how could someone cry like that? How could someone cry so beautifully?
You're foolish. You're naive. You're too soft for this world. You cry over strays. You cry over things that don't deserve your tears.
Sunghoon pressed the cloth into his face and inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the scent of Sunoo's tears and grief. While the handkerchief stayed pressed to his face, cupped over his nose and mouth and he breathed it in—deep and shuddering, his other hand moved down.
He backed up slowly until his shoulders hit the wall, the towel falling open, the handkerchief pressed to his nose like his oxygen mask.
Fuuuuuuck, Angelface. Is this twisted? Is this the part where I feel bad? Am I a sinner?
His cock was hard in his hand. He pictured Sunoo's teary eyes and he stroked himself. His mind flashed back the image of him pressing the handkerchief to his cheeks, letting it soak up the sorrow, and now it was in his mouth.
How depraved is that? Jerking off to a snotty, tear-stained piece of cloth I'd have thrown away otherwise. What would you say if you knew?
Sunghoon pumped harder, faster. He could hear the sobbing, the choked up words, the trembling breaths. The grip became punishingly harder with his own pre-cum mixing with residual moisture from the shower.
Angelface, I'd make you cry so pretty and cum on your face when you finally break.
His hips moved in small thrusts fucking his own fist and he doubled over when the orgasm hit him out of nowhere—spurting white streaks across the living room floor.
The damp center where his tears had soaked deepest, Sunghoon pressed it to his mouth and licked the exact spot.
It wasn't enough. He needed more.
Angelface, my Angelface.
I stopped coming regularly to The Coffee Shop and opted for the place across the street with the shitty coffee. Not all decaf tastes the same. Things I do for you.
The new place is called Morning Brew. The coffee tastes like shit. Incompetent fucking baristas. But I endure it because I can see you through the window.
From my table by the glass, I have a perfect view of The Coffee Shop. I watch you open at 6:45 AM. I watch you wipe down the counters. I watch you pour milk into the steamer and entertain the morning regulars with your sweet angelic smile. You have new strays to feed. You always need to help a helpless little thing, don't you? Perhaps we're not that different. We're both good people always looking out to help creatures lesser than us.
It would be a little troubling for me if you see me every day, Angelface. That's why I haven't been coming. You can't get used to me yet. Not until I get to know you first.
The person I showed you was the person I've already forgotten. It was an image that didn't matter enough—the grieving son, the coffee regular, the kind stranger with the handkerchief. I've discarded those people like I forget all faces that don't interest me.
But you, Angelface. Oh, you. I haven't forgotten you.
What thrills you? What do you want? What do you desire?
I know you bite your lip when you're concentrating. You do it when you're counting change, when you're writing names on cups, when you can't quite figure out how something works. You laugh with your whole face. Your eyes crinkle. Your nose scrunches. Your cheeks have whiskers dimples. You check your phone obsessively. You're waiting for someone to text you, someone who doesn't deserve your attention.
You're lonely, Angelface. You're surrounded by people and yet you're utterly, completely alone. How come I haven't seen any of your friends?
I see you coming to work with puffy eyes. Poor you. You try to hide it. You wear a face mask and keep your head down. You don't smile like you usually would.
Someone hurt you, Angelface. Someone made you cry.
I want to cross the street. I want to walk into The Coffee Shop. I want to take your face in my hands and ask you what happened. I want to hold you. I want to tell you it's okay, everything's okay, I'm here, I'm always going to be here.
But I don't. Not yet. I'm sorry, Angelface. You have to wait for me because I need it to be perfect.
Another day arrives, I come home and I see a moving truck in front of my house. I wish you'd know how thrilled I am when I see you coming up those shabby villa buildings across the street with your moving boxes.
I was looking forward to the day they'd demolish that building because of how much of a sore eye it was to my view from my two story house. I paid for the south facing for sunlight and this is the view I got. They said they'd tear down that building when I bought the house, guess I could never take anyone's words for it. Especially not realtor's. Fuck you, Park Jongseong.
But a blessing and disguise it is, because you're moving into my view.
You've brought yourself to me.
Sunoo was an open book on social media—or at least, he seemed like one. In reality, he only ever showed the narrative he chose to show, the same way most people online did. Social media was merely a tool to control and curate their own existence. Everyone wore a mask.
But Sunoo's mask was desperate.
He followed every trend, he posted his daily life like everyone's watching—what he ate for breakfast, happy pictures with friends, weekend "recharge" posts. Even the one vacation he had last summer still milked and posted until today with captions "Missing Japan" or "Take me back."
Sunoo was obsessed with being seen. He wanted people to look at him. He wanted people to want him.
When Sunghoon entered Sunoo's name into the search bar, he looked through all the musicals Sunoo had performed in. He found clips on YouTube. Sunoo was mostly in the background. He was good, actually. Quite talented. But he was never the star. At this pace, it didn't seem like he'd break in anytime soon.
Unfortunately, Sunoo's father was ever present in Sunoo's search result. Perhaps that's why Sunoo couldn't land any big role. A single search of his name was all it took to surface his father's illegal gambling and debt fraud case.
Sunghoon eventually found the gym Sunoo went to. A gym oddly located all the way in Hongdae, nowhere near where he actually lived. The expensive one too at that, it didn't fit Sunoo's minimum wage job budget.
Sunghoon went to check it out in person. He kept up his own gym routine religiously, though less for health than for aesthetic and what it got him in bed.
Sunghoon picked a leg machine at the back of the gym with the perfect view of Sunoo while staying out of sight.
Sunoo was on the treadmill, barely jogging. More like a brisk walk with random bursts of effort. He was wearing makeup to the gym, his form was bad, he ran weirdly. He wasn't there to work out or push himself, he bought the expensive monthly membership for Instagram and also, to flaunt himself.
He was here to seduce men, to be desired.
Sunoo stopped jogging. He stepped off the treadmill, wiping his face with a towel that wasn't even damp. He looked around the gym, scanning the room. He was looking for someone to see him.
A man approached Sunoo and he instantly lit up. He was giggly in overly bashful ways, leaning in and touching his arm.
Do you give your attention to anyone who asks?
Sunoo giggled too much at this point. Whatever the man said couldn't be that funny. Nothing that should get someone keeling over laughing like that.
Stop giving him what's mine. Come on now, Angelface. I have a better sense of humor.
Sunoo came home alone, but with a new phone number saved in his phone. Sunghoon later learned the gym guy's name was Jaeyun—and less than two days after that, he had to watch through the window as Jaeyun fucked him.
Sunghoon sat at his own window after watching Sunoo's apartment across the way. The lights were on. Sunoo was moving around—cooking, eating, scrolling through his phone. He was alone and all by himself, and he looked sad.
Sunghoon checked his social media. Sunoo had posted about the dinner, with a caption about how happy he was to be eating it. He hadn't looked happy through the window.
Then Sunghoon checked his friends' accounts. They were all out together eating expensive food, getting expensive drinks, and a table at one of the popular clubs in Itaewon. While Sunoo was eating cheap takeaway food all by himself in his room.
Angelface, my Angelface.
The thing about the shabby villa you're renting, is that the security system is really, really bad.
You always leave your window unlocked before you go to work. You'd keep it that way all day for fresh air, because that place lacks proper air circulation.
Do you know how easy it would be for someone to hurt you? Do you know how many people would take advantage of your naivety? Do you know how lucky you are that it's me climbing through your window and not someone else?
Your place is a dumpster, Angelface.
There are takeout containers piled on the kitchen counter, spilling out of the trash can that you clearly haven't emptied in days. Chinese food, pizza, fried chicken, more chinese food.
You probably think expensive health supplements could undo all that damage in your body. Because there are dozens of them. Vitamin C, vitamin D, omega-3, probiotics, magnesium, collagen. Maybe invest all that money you spend on health supplements on better food, Angelface. Eat a vegetable, cook a meal. Just try to love yourself as much as you want other people to love you.
Your laptop wasn't locked, another thing that you have to fix. What else did you leave unlocked, I wonder? Did you ever try to protect yourself?
You were scrolling through part-time job listings. Waiter, barista, retail positions. Were you looking for a new job? No, why are you looking for a new job? Your part-time job at The Coffee Shop is already perfect. I'm offended.
The audition tabs are a little pathetic. You'd applied to everything. Even the ones you knew you wouldn't get and too big for someone like you. Why do you keep chasing for something that won't choose you?
Give me something else, Angelface. Give me more than these desperations… give me something worth—oh.
I've seen your social media and saved every photo you've ever posted. I've never seen these.
Thousand of selfies, bathroom mirror selfies, more mirror selfies, another selfie, and nudes.
Oh, Angelface. Angelface, Angelface, Angelface.
There's a picture of you pushing your ass toward the camera with your hand reaching behind pulling one cheek aside to show a heart shaped silicone plug stuffing you full. Another picture showed your nipples red and pebbled from your own pinching.
I scroll faster and there's always something new. You're quite creative with your pictures, Angelface. How did you think of taking a picture in the bathtub, legs spread and one foot propped on the edge to show your slick and open hole getting fingered knuckles deep?
What a fucking slut, needy little whore.
You made me hard, Angelface. My cock is throbbing hard against my zipper. It's not my fault that I have to let my cock free, or that I'm jerking off in front of your laptop screen. This is all you.
If you walk in on me right now, would you blush? Would you drop to your knees? Would you ask me to stop or beg me to keep going?
Who are you even sending these to, huh? Who gets to see you like this? There are hundreds of them, which means this isn't something new or special to you. You've been sharing these. You really like attention, don't you?
How'd you like a thick rope of cum lashed across your laptop screen, Angelface?
Angelface, you are really easy to read.
Soft things, pretty things, funny things. You like all of them. You comment on stuff and share personal things under your real name. You basically put your whole life into the internet. I know what you get for lunch, your skincare routine, your favorite row and seat at the movies, the audition you didn't get in September, the one in October, all of your friends going back as far as middle school, your childhood home address, the layout of your apartment—Has anyone ever told you about internet safety?
Fortunately, you are a talented person. I've watched all your audition tapes you conveniently uploaded for me on the internet. You have a face that cameras would love if anyone worth knowing ever pointed one at you.
But you are also, unfortunately, stupid.
Your friends don't actually like you. They never have a problem hanging out without you. Your father is a deadbeat. You chase a dream with both hands while people who should hold you up watch you from a comfortable distance so you won't become a liability if one day you fall. How come you surround yourself with so many terrible people in your life?
You walk through filth and don't see it. You breathe poison and yet you don't choke. You are too pure for this rotten world…
And the men in your life?
Buy a curtain, Angelface. I mean it. Your windows are large even as your apartment is the size of a shoebox. The light inside your apartment reaches all the way across the street and I see everything. You're too trusting with this world. You suck other man's dick and let them fuck you against the window. I wouldn't say I didn't enjoy the show but I don't appreciate that you let other men fuck you before I do.
This man named Jaeyun that you met at the gym, he doesn't deserve you. You bought the expensive gym membership but still met a man built like a stick. I found that he works odd jobs because his real job as a researcher at a tier 2 public university doesn't pay him enough to get by. I don't understand why you think his smile is cute or that his nerdy look is endearing, because he looks at you with a sad appetite and his glasses are ugly. Considering how much he gets paid for doing oral history research, I'm not surprised. Maybe it's the oral stuff that also makes him so fucking noisy. How do you even put up with him, Angelface? This man couldn't fight me; he couldn't protect you.
The important thing is, Angelface, he won't give you the life that you want. He will not get you out because he can't get himself out. Men like him would drag you down with him, you'll struggle all your life trying to make a life for yourself with that big dream of yours.
You need me, Angelface. You need someone like me in your life. I would be perfect, it would be perfect.
I could give anything you've ever wanted, Angelface. I could take care of everything in your life.
And I won't stop at Jaeyun.
"Jaeyun hyung stopped talking to me."
Sunoo and his friends spent the weekend at a pub. Sunghoon settled into a stool near the back wall facing away.
Riki leaned in. "Wait, since when?"
"I don't know, like a week ago? I think I'm being ghosted." Sunoo shrugged. "Honestly I get it, though. I'm probably just not on his level."
"Not on his level how?"
"He's doing his PhD. He's smart, he's got some job basically already lined up." Sunoo picked at the label on his bottle. "It's dumb, but sometimes talking to him felt like he was dumbing himself down for me. Like he'd start explaining something and then catch himself and go 'nevermind, it's not important.'"
Not really, angelface. You'd be shocked how little academics actually make.
"So, what," Riki said flatly.
"I don't know, there's just this gap. Between us."
Riki set his drink down. "That's not on you. If he actually respects you and doesn't think your education matters, you wouldn't even feel any insecurity around him. Because you two have different life priorities, that's literally all that is. And you never get insecure like this normally, so maybe ask yourself why it's happening with him specifically."
Wow. Actually, listen to your friends. Please.
"No… don't, don't say it like that about him." Sunoo waved a hand.
Christ. Give me strength.
"Whatever, forget Jaeyun," Riki said, sitting back. "We're finding you someone new tonight."
"What about that guy from the coffee shop?" Hojin asked. "You mentioned him before. The hot one."
"Ah… he hasn't even come back to the coffee shop for weeks now."
Oh? You talk about me, Angelface?
"Too bad."
"Yeah, well, what can I do? Maybe I was just reading too much into it. Maybe he's just friendly."
No, no. Keep going. What do you think of me? What do you think about how I look? My outfit? Anything about my posh yet sweet cadence at all?
"Okay but if he comes back," Riki said, pointing his bottle at him, "you're asking him out."
Thank you, Riki. Truly. You're doing God's work tonight.
"I'll figure it out if it happens," Sunoo slid off his stool. "Come on, let's dance!"
Like magnets, two guys walked up to him. It looked like they already knew Riki, because he was the one who introduced them to Sunoo.
Why'd you smile like that, Angelface?
Didn't you know that a club is genuinely the worst place on earth to meet someone? Every man in this building is a wolf and you're nothing but a helpless lamb to them.
Sunoo left in a taxi with one of them an hour later. Sunghoon followed them and watched the cab pull up outside Sunoo's place not long after.
Sunghoon watched the lights come on in his room and they fucked with the lights on.
Angelface, you are, genuinely, unbelievably stupid.
Angelface, my Angelface.
I don't sleep anymore. How can I, when every time I close my eyes, I see you out there, wandering, vulnerable, one wrong step away from being devoured? My vigilance is your oxygen. You don't understand yet that my tired eyes are the price I gladly pay for your safety. Because if I don't watch you and keep you safe, who will?
The Animal Hospital's annual charity had evolved from an adoption drive campaign to a full series of events from dog costume contents, pet photoshoots, dog wash and spa days. Sunghoon's favorite part of being a vet was that animals didn't talk. His least favorite part of it was that the owners did, extensively.
After being pulled around in five different directions all morning, he escaped to the refreshment booth for bread and something to drink.
"It's you again. I almost didn't recognize you with the glasses."
Sunghoon tilted his head, squinted, nudged the frames up his nose like he needed a second to remember—he didn't. "Sunoo?"
"Those are nice glasses." Sunoo smiled.
"Ah—yes. I usually wear contacts."
"When my boss said we were catering the charity event at The Animal Hospital, I remembered you saying you worked here. Still kind of a nice surprise, running into you."
"Small world," Sunghoon did not believe in coincidence and had personally requested The Coffee Shop to the organizer three weeks ago.
"I heard the vets don't usually bother showing up to these."
"I wanted to see dogs in tiny costumes. I wasn't going to give up my Saturday for anything less."
"So?" Sunoo tilted his head. "Was it worth the Saturday?"
"Depends. Are you asking about the dogs, or fishing for a compliment?"
"Can't it be both?"
"I was going to use that line."
"Get your own material, Doctor." Sunoo gave him his refreshments and cookies. "So?"
"Did you see the chihuahua with The Beatles wig? He's winning it."
Sunoo laughed. "Keep talking like that and maybe I'll start thinking you're interesting instead of just tall."
"How could you? I've been coasting on height alone since high school."
"It shows." He said it with a straight face, then broke into a grin before Sunghoon could even feign offense. "So is this the real you, or is this the doctor-you?"
"This is significantly less customer service than usual. I've been here for five hours. I'm running out of patience."
"And with me?"
Sunghoon paused. "With you I haven't had to fake anything yet. Ask me again in ten minutes."
"I will ask."
Sunoo's manager appeared, clipboard in hand, and did a small double-take at Sunghoon. "Sunghoon? Hey, how's it going?
"Can I steal your employee for a bit?" Sunghoon asked her. "Could use an extra pair of hands in the back."
"Sure, just have him back in an hour."
"Will do."
Sunoo untied his apron and tossed it behind the booth, following Sunghoon out. "What do you need help with?"
"Nothing. I'm just giving you a break."
Sunoo's head tipped back in laughter. "What if she finds out?!"
They ended up in the play area with the dogs. Sunghoon introduced them one at a time. The three-legged terrier who'd been passed over twice, the senior beagle nobody wanted because seniors don't photograph well, the anxious shepherd mix who only calmed near for him.
Sunoo crouched to let the beagle lick his hand. Sunghoon reached down to scratch its head too, and that's when Sunoo's eyes caught on his wrist.
"I'm so sorry, I should've asked this the first time we met, but I wasn't sure. We've seen each other before, right? Other than the coffee shop."
Oh, no. Did you see me? "What do you mean?"
"You—well, I could be wrong, but you're Mrs. Park's son? Aren't you?" A pause, sheepish. "I saw the rosary on your wrist and it clicked. I wasn't sure before that."
Sunghoon looked down at the beads circling his wrist. Bless your heart, Angelface. Sunghoon chuckled. "I thought you knew the whole time."
Sunoo's face crumpled and rushed into strings of apologies. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—I should've said something sooner. It's just, it's been a while and I might be wrong—"
"All this time," Sunghoon shook his head in dismay, "and you had no idea who I was."
"I am so sorry. Let me—I have to make this up to you somehow."
Good. Guilt is a lovely leash. "I hope this doesn't come off strange," Sunghoon said, scratching at his own neck. "But I actually looked you up online. I bought tickets to your musical tomorrow."
Sunoo seemed taken aback, in a good way. "Really? I'm not even in the main cast."
"I know. I figured I'd give the whole musical thing a shot regardless. I'll be honest, I haven't watched many musicals. But when you mentioned it—I don't know, maybe I could find a new hobby or if it doesn't work out maybe I'd get to see you again."
"You can see me anytime at The Coffee Shop."
"Isn't it better to see you while you're doing something you actually love, though?"
Sunoo went quiet. There it is. Display of sincerity was many people's weakness. Anyone is easy when you know the very thing they are starving for.
"So," Sunghoon said, breaking the silence. "Can I see you there?"
Sunoo's mouth curved into a shy smile. "Will you bring flowers?"
"I'll bring a bouquet bigger than anything your co-stars get." Sunghoon spread his hands, mock-grand, a goofy grin. "They'll be jealous of you."
The musical had been mediocre with too much Broadway ambition but high school production budget. Sunoo himself had maybe eleven lines total, none of them solo, most of them absorbed into an ensemble number. He'd even yawned through the second act.
The flowers he'd brought backstage made everyone crane their necks—a chandelier of a bouquet the florist had actually asked, is this a proposal? and Sunghoon had said no, I just felt like surprising someone. Even the florist blushed and complimented him because what a perfect boyfriend he was.
Sunoo came around the corner after he changed out of his costume. His eyes widened at the flowers and he instantly teared up.
Sunghoon glanced around the full hallway and steered them both into a quieter corner near the fire exit.
"Hey." He tilted his head. "What's wrong? Are you really that moved by a bouquet? Should I have gotten a smaller one? I didn't realize this would make you cry."
Sunoo let out an embarrassed laugh, pressing his lips together. "No. It's just—" He groaned, shaking his head at himself. "I feel dramatic, but. This is the first time anyone's come to one of these. And with flowers." He touched a petal like it wasn't real. "I think I like flowers. This is… it's beautiful. I'm being so stupid right now."
Hell yeah. It's working. "You're not being stupid."
"I never really invite people," Sunoo admitted. "It's embarrassing, like—why would anyone want to sit through two hours to watch me stand in the back?"
"If they actually cared, I think they'd have looked the show up themselves. They'd buy a ticket, show up, and surprise you. People show up when they want to show up for you, Sunoo."
It looked like an old hurt surfaced on Sunoo's face. "It's fine. It doesn't matter."
"Why do you think it doesn't matter?" Sunghoon smiled gently. "It matters to me."
They walked home together after. The night had gone cold and Sunghoon gave his coat for Sunoo to wear. Sunoo chatted about the show, about the guy who played the lead, about whatever happened on stage. Sunghoon listened with maximum interest, asked the right questions, and kept Sunoo excited enough that Sunoo hadn't once asked why he was still walking in the same direction for three intersections.
"Wait." Sunoo finally stopped, narrowing his eyes. "Are you following me?"
Sunghoon grinned. "What if I was?"
"Stalker," Sunoo said, delighted, nudging him with an elbow.
"I live around here too, actually." Sunghoon slowed, then stopped altogether, nodding across the street. "This is—yeah. This is me."
"What?!" Sunoo's mouth fell open. "That's insane, I live right there." He pointed at the villa opposite. "Fourth floor. I just moved in a couple months ago. How have I never seen you?"
"Work. I leave early in the morning and come home late at night." A shrug. "And when I do have time off, I mostly just stay in. I'm a homebody. Very boring, honestly."
"Me too." Sunoo hugged the flowers a little tighter to his chest, and went quiet for a second, thinking something over. Then he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Sunghoon's cheek. "Thank you for coming today."
Sunghoon went still. You kissed me? Already? You're easier than I thought, Angelface.
"Sorry. Did I read that wrong?"
"No." Sunghoon's hand found Sunoo's waist. "You read it exactly right."
He kissed him—not on the cheek, on lips—and Sunoo let out a little gasp against his mouth before one hand came up to Sunghoon's jaw, the other still full of flowers, crushed slightly between them.
When they finally broke apart, Sunghoon rested his forehead against Sunoo's for a moment and murmured, "Goodnight, Sunoo."
Angelface, my Angelface.
You taste sweeter than I've imagined.
You were trembling when I kissed you. Your lips were soft and giving. You leaned into me like you'd been waiting for me your whole life. I wanted to memorize you. I wanted to imprint myself on you so deeply that you would never be able to forget me.
I wonder what you see when you look at me. I wonder if you see the man who saved you. I wonder if you see the man who will never leave you. I wonder if you see the man who will never let you leave.
I hope you see everything I want you to see. I hope you see the best version of me that I've crafted just for you.
I will take care of you, Angelface. I will give you everything you've ever wanted. I will make your dreams come true. I will protect you from the world and from everyone who doesn't deserve you. I will be the only thing you need. I am the greatest gift you'll ever receive.
I am real, Angelface. I think this is the real me. I am the only real thing in your life. Everyone else… your friends, men you have sex with, your family… they're just placeholders who were waiting for me to arrive.
Now I'm here and everything can begin.
Sunghoon watched from his window, half a coffee gone cold on the sill, when Sunoo's jacket came off the hook and his silhouette slid out the door of the fourth floor.
It's 2:12 AM. Where are you going? You just kissed me an hour ago, you're not going to sit with it first?
The convenience store was three blocks down. Sunghoon took the outdoor seating, cap low, jacket collar up, and bought a disgusting canned coffee he had no intention of drinking.
Sunoo came out a minute later with a cup of ice cream, phone wedged between shoulder and ear.
"—no, I know, I know, just let me finish." He dropped into the chair on the other side of the outdoor seating area. "Okay. Okay, so. You remember the guy from the coffee shop I told you about? The vet? He came to the show with flowers. I don't even know what kind they were but they were huge—"
A laughter leaked faintly from the speaker.
"I'm not exaggerating, Riki! Ask literally anyone backstage. And then he walked me home, we talked a lot… he makes me laugh, he's not boring, he's got a good job, being around him just… weirdly makes me feel good. He's so familiar. Oh also! Turns out he lives right across the street, which is—I know, I know how that sounds, but it's not weird, it's just—a nice coincidence?" Sunoo's ears going faintly pink. "And then I kissed him on the cheek, and then he—"
Sunghoon smiled at the can in his hands.
"No! Oh my god, no, shut up, it wasn't like that." A scandalized laugh, swatting at air. "I don't think he's that kind of guy. He's very—don't laugh, but he's kind of a gentleman. He didn't even try anything, he just kissed me and said goodnight and left."
You talk about me to your friends, Angelface. Good. I like knowing I'm not the only one thinking about our first kiss.
"I don't know, I just—it felt real, you know? God, STOP teasing me! Okay, okay, moving on—did you hear about the callback list? No, I didn't get it, obviously. I mean I wasn't expecting to, but Director Han laughed when I asked if there'd be a callback for the lead. It's a little annoying. Yang Jungwon got the role. But it's fine. I'm used to it. I'm fine."
But I'm not fine with it, Angelface. Should I take care of that for you, too?
Sunghoon came to The Coffee Shop for lunch break.
Sunoo had his phone wedged between his ear and shoulder while he was pulling a shot. He listened, said, "Wait, what?" twice, and had to set the portafilter down. He looked visibly upset. "Oh, no. He slipped off a cliff when he was jogging?"
I know what that phone call is about, why do you look upset? You should be beaming with joy right now.
Sunghoon took a seat near the counter and watched.
"Is he—do they know if he's okay?"
Sunoo's posture suddenly changed. His mouth opened slightly and his eyes came up and found Sunghoon's.
There it is.
Sunghoon could tell the exact moment "the part is yours" came after "they can't continue with Jungwon".
"Right now? Okay—yes. Yes, I'll take it."
He hung up and grabbed his head in disbelief. The corners of his lips were doing their best fighting a smile but it still reached the eyes and whatever restraint he'd been holding out of guilt went out the window entirely.
"Oh my God! I got the part! I'm the lead!"
Of course you got the part. I made it happen for you.
He came around the counter and Sunghoon stood to meet him, arms open, face already masked with pure surprise.
"Wait—seriously?" Sunghoon gasped. "Since when—what happened, why so fast?"
"Something unfortunate happened with the previous lead and I'm—" He laughed, still in disbelief. "I was apparently 'next in line' or whatever."
"Is it weird to say that I'm not surprised? I know at some point you'd get a lead part."
"Thank you for the confidence but I need you to freak out with me." Sunoo poked him in the chest. Sunghoon smiled widely.
"This is my freaking out face."
Sunoo laughed into his shoulder.
Angelface, my Angelface.
Do you know what happens to angels in a world of vultures? They get pecked apart, piece by piece, until nothing remains but a skeleton. I saw the vultures circling, I saw their greedy eyes—I made the only righteous choice to save you.
The world would have trampled you, tainted you with their grubby fingerprints until you are nothing but an impure body. My hands are the only ones clean enough to hold an angel like you. I picked up what the world carelessly dropped. I saved you from a fate worse than death: being ordinary.
People around you only broke you just to see if you could bleed. I broke your wings so you would never have to fly for them again.
I told you I could take care of everything. Do you believe me now?
"Come on in," Sunoo said, stepping aside to let him through. "A little warning, it's a small place and I have a lot of stuff so it might feel a little cramped."
"No, I like it." Sunghoon's eyes moved once around the room. "It's cozy, I could see myself here."
The apartment was small, yes, anyone with eyes could tell. But it was also cleaner compared to the last time. The takeout containers were gone, the counter was wiped down, the laundry was probably tossed inside his closet now. A candle was burning in the living room that he was fairly sure he'd never seen lit before. Seemed like he'd cleaned up his place to impress. How adorable.
Sunoo moved toward the kitchen. "Can I get you anything? I have tea, water, I think I have some juice, but the orange juice might be expired so—"
"I'm fine." Sunghoon sat down on the couch. He patted the cushion beside him. "Come sit with me."
Sunoo hesitated when crossed the room and settled onto the couch.
"Can I ask you something," Sunghoon said, not quite the question, "and you don't have to answer if you're not comfortable sharing."
"Okay?"
"Why weren't you sure you'd get the lead?" He tucked a strand of hair back from Sunoo's face, thumb grazing his cheekbone on the way down. "I've watched you. There wasn't anyone in that room who could touch you."
Sunoo huffed, embarrassed. "You're biased."
"Biased or not, you're still objectively good."
"It's just—" Sunoo looked down at his own hands. "Whenever there's a lead role, people Google the musical, then they Google whoever's playing the lead, and then they find out about my dad. And it's over before it starts."
"What'd he do?"
"You've looked me up before, right? You seriously never saw it?"
"No." Sunghoon held his gaze. "Should I have?"
Sunoo reached his laptop from the coffee table like showing it would be better than explaining. Sunghoon watched his face instead of the screen scroll, and scroll, and start to frown.
"Wait, that's—that's weird."
"What is?" Sunghoon leaned his chin lightly onto Sunoo's shoulder, arm sliding around his waist.
"Nothing's coming up. Usually the second result is his case. It's been the second result for like four years."
Oh, I know about that. I took care of that for you.
"Maybe it finally fell off the algorithm," Sunghoon offered, pressing a slow kiss to his shoulder like the conversation bored him a little. "That happens, doesn't it? Old news fades away eventually."
"My agency told me it wasn't worth trying to get it taken down. Said it'd cost too much for what it's worth."
Because they didn't even fucking try.
Sunoo shut the laptop, set it aside, and folded himself into the space between his arm and his chest "Anyway. A little background about me… My dad got into illegal gambling and then debt fraud. I lost so many roles because of it—by association."
Sunghoon tightened his arm around him and pressed his mouth to the crown of his head.
"It's your father's sins," he murmured into his hair. "Not yours."
He brought up his other hand the one with Mother's rosary wound twice around the wrist and let it rest against Sunoo's jaw. Sunoo's hand came up over his, holding it there.
"You're not like other people, Sunoo. You're special."
Sunoo's forehead tipped against his. "How is it that everything's gone right since I met you? Seriously. You might as well be my lucky charm."
Nothing but tenderness. That's how Sunghoon smiled before he closed the last of the distance.
You don't need to know how much of it was never luck at all.
Riki took one look at Sunoo sliding into the seat and set his beer down. "Okay, why does it look like you've been crying?"
"I finished Youth of May last night." Sunoo pressed the heel of his hand under one eye. "I'm never letting Hojin recommend anything to me again, that ending destroyed me."
"You cry at everything, though. You even cried watching a Thai commercial."
"Because it was fucking sad."
"You're just a crybaby, is what I'm saying."
"Shut up—" Sunoo kicked him under the table. "Whatever, it's a good drama, watch it and then talk to me."
"Not if it does that to your face." Riki flagged the bartender for another round before turning back. "Anyway. You're coming this weekend to Yerin's thing? Because if you flake again and I find out you were home watching another drama, I'm coming to your place and dragging you with me."
"I'm coming, relax. God, what do you think I am, some hermit?" Sunoo grabbed a fry. "I just need to go shopping first, I have nothing to wear."
"Your mom finally gave the card back?"
"Yeah, finally." He rolled his eyes. "Like, I lived off cheap takeouts and instant food for four months and worked a part-time job but it's fine, it's over now. I just—" he shrugged, poking at the fries instead of eating them. "I want to tell her to stop letting her husband decide how she raises me, you know? Like I'm 25, not 15. But my step-dad is basically funding everything, so. Not really my place to say anything."
"You got that lead role though. That's gotta help get you out from under all that."
"Hopefully." Sunoo's mouth curved into a smile. "That'd be nice."
"I heard you and the hot vet are a thing now?"
"Sunghoon." Sunoo corrected with a grin. "Yeah. We're dating."
"How's that going?"
"Amaziiing. He's honestly perfect."
"Okay, can I say something?"
"...Just say it, no need to ask."
"I'm saying this with love. I heard a lot of things from Hojin and so I just want to check with you, is Sunghoon holding you hostage or what?"
Sunoo opened his mouth, then paused to laugh. "Hostage what?"
"You don't really hang out with us these days."
"But I'm here with you? I just spend more time with my boyfriend."
"I think you're being love-bombed. It's a thing—I read about it. It's when someone comes on really intense, really fast, makes you feel like the center of their whole world, and it feels amazing, and then slowly you realize you don't really talk to anyone else anymore because somehow you've become dependent on them only."
"Sunghoon hyung is not like that." Sunoo said defensively. "He just gets me. And he asked me to move in with him last week so we've been busy moving."
Riki's eyebrows went up. "See, that. That right there is what I'm talking about."
"What, moving in? We get along, we're comfortable, why is that a thing?"
"Because it's too fast."
"No, it's like the obvious next thing." Sunoo shrugged, genuinely confused by the pushback. "I don't get why everyone has to make that sound sinister just because it's easy with him."
Sunghoon brought the last of Sunoo's suitcases inside the walk-in closet and started pulling shirts to hang.
"Oh, hey. I'm going to Yerin's party this weekend," Sunoo said, handing him a stack.
"Who's Yerin?"
"My friend."
"Which one is she? Why I never heard about her before?"
Sunoo raised his brows. "Well, because she's Riki's friend and by extension, also my friend…?"
"You never mentioned anything about her before."
Sunoo paused mid-fold, glancing over. "Because I don't see her that often? Why does that matter?"
"Then why do you have to come to her party?"
Sunoo scratched his head and shook his head. "Sorry, why so many questions? Can't I just hang out with my friends?"
Sunghoon pressed his lips together and smiled to reset his composure. "Sorry, I just… we have plans this weekend, the dinner at the Italian place? I guess I got thrown off a bit."
"Oh, no." Sunoo's face fell. "Oh my god, I completely forgot, I'm so sorry. Can we push it a week? I've bailed on everyone so many times lately I feel bad because I kept canceling my plans with them."
"Or don't go at all. Tell them you're taking a break from them for a bit. You've got me."
"...Okay, that's insane. Why would I do that?"
Me? I am insane?
Who's actually insane? The man who builds a safe space for an angel, or the angel who keeps trying to fly back to the wolves?
Don't be stupid, angelface. You're not supposed to be this stupid.
"My friends actually said something, if we're being honest," Sunoo went on, oblivious, folding a shirt too hard. "That you're love-bombing me, basically. And I've gotten distant and keep ditching everyone since we started dating." He shoved it into the drawer. "I don't think that, obviously. But if I skip this too, I'm just proving them right."
Your friends said awful things about me. Shocking.
But what would be the proof of their words? A man who looks well-fed, well-kept, well-loved? Would anyone else still assume that I hurt you?
Sunghoon exhaled until his shoulders dropped. "Sorry, you're right. I just… I was just thinking how much I'd miss you. You can go. We can reschedule to next week." Ah, it's pissing me off, Angelface.
Sunoo melted straight into guilt. He crossed the room and kissed him. "I'm sorry. Do you want me to skip my shift today, make it up to you now instead?"
"Yes, please."
Their baths were always warm, nothing like Sunghoon's usual scalding showers.
Sunoo was nestled between his legs, back pressed against Sunghoon's chest, head tilted back against his shoulder.
Sunoo's fingers traced lazy patterns on Sunghoon's forearm. "Can we stay like this forever?"
Sunghoon pressed his lips to Sunoo's forehead. "Of course, Angelface."
"Angelface?" Sunoo tilted his head, smiling into it. "I like that one."
On the bathroom countertop sat a pair of glasses that weren't his and Mother's rosary. Sunghoon didn't usually wear a smart watch, but he'd been using one when he jogged to track his fitness.
In the living room, on the shelf sat a row of small ceramic urns for decoration. One of them belonged to the stray cat. The others were bigger, older, some had names painted on the bottom.
Angelface, my Angelface.
You want people to adore you and throw roses at your feet. But, Angelface… that kind of people would also want to watch you wither. Not me, I brought you inside and water you with my devotion. You'll never wither. You'll never want to leave.
I'm not a sinner. I'm a savior.
After all, no sinner would build an angel a garden, right?
One day you'll think that you hate me. It's the poison the world injected into your veins before I rescued you, Angelface. But it won't be long until your heart fills with gratitude. One day you'll look into my eyes and see the only perfect man who truly loves you.
Ah, fuck. I wish I could die and see what kind of face you'd make for me. I think it would make me cum.
Angelface, my Angelface.
This is my honest act of love.
Soon you'll be reborn in my love.
And when you open your eyes again, you will see only me.