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Ways of Parting - Chapter 40

Published at 24th of April 2023 05:00:32 PM


Chapter 40

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Chapter 40

An indecipherable gaze looked down at him. As the large hands that covered his nape, ears, and cheeks pressed down with more force, his face was buried deeper into the sheets. Haa– Huu– The sound of their hot breaths could not be distinguished from each other’s and repeated continuously in the same space. When their sweet breaths connected as one, cold fingers that reached for his hair and clutched at it.

“Ah….” 

His pale back arched like a bow. Sweat flowed down from his nape and back. His taut entrance was red-hot, showing that it had already allowed several thrusts in. Squelch– Squelch– His body recoiled as it went deep in him again. Green veins stood out on the back of the hand that crumpled the sheet. He closed his eyes tightly with a sense as vivid as life. The hand pressed against his face came down a little further and wrapped around his sweaty neck. Ha Joyoon twisted his body with pleasure as he breathed harsh breaths.

“Ha Joyoon.”

 

 

 

The low voice tickled his ears.

“Ha Joyoon.” 

The voice calling him became heavier and darker. Unable to reply to his name being called, the thing which had been completely pulled out, filled him again at a similar speed. His whole body felt crushed and he gathered strength at his toes to endure the weight. The white sheets crumpled and uncrumpled in a mess due to the rough movements.

 

“Hng, ngh…”

Moans scattered through the air along with his swaying body. His body trembled, having a mind of its own. As the hand went downwards and clasped both of his asscheeks, red handprints were engraved here and there, branding his fair skin.

He repeatedly held his entrance open and closed for a long time. The eyes staring down at his hole, which repeatedly blinked as he had released his ejaculation several times. The body underneath him fluttered helplessly along with his active movements.

 

“Huu… You.”

Thrust– Thrust– his thrusts resumed, pulling out completely and plunging back in. His tightly knit muscles moved dynamically. Sweat formed over their skin. As he tilted his head back, he let out a groan.

“Ah, Angh-!”

 

 

“Don’t… tighten.” 

A voice of irritation sprang out crudely. His straight brows had long been frowned.  With one arm wrapped around his waist and tightly pulled to the other’s body, the man constantly muttered low profanity. Ha Joyoon leaned his sweat-soaked head on his shoulder, he couldn’t understand the other’s words but he could tell the voice was filled with annoyance. 

Unlike his angry atmosphere, Shin Kwonjoo poured small kisses on all of Ha Joyoon’s body that touched him. As the hard muscles supported his lean body, their genital and inner walls were tightly interlocked to further increase the temperature in the room. His head hurt as he forcibly tried to turn, his blurred eyes slowly returned to focus. Squelch– Squelch– His penis that was half way in dug deep again. Haa– A deep and full groan leaked out of his lips.

“You’re very annoying…Ngh… you know that, right?”

“Ah-Ahng…!” 

Teeth strongly bit on the tender flesh leading to his neck and shoulders. Whether it was emotion or pleasure, it was the man’s habit when he reached a certain point. His body flinched as he took in a breath, feeling like he was about to be torn. Shin Kwonjoo didn’t miss the moment, pulling out half way and bottoming out, not giving him the chance to clench again. With the sound of body fluids, the body that lost its strength shook in waves. The man who was rubbing his sharp nose on Ha Joyoon’s skin and biting at his earlobe slowly continued what he was saying a while ago.

“You can’t be tired already.”

“Ah… ngh…”

“Why? Wasn’t it you that asked for this?” 

 

Ha Joyoon stretched his hands behind him and helplessly tapped at Shin Kwonjoo’s waist several times. Stop it. Clumsily groping at his body, the man bit at his lips and clutched both of the other’s hands.

He was somewhere between angry and impatient. Sometimes he uttered insulting words, but they didn’t seem to provide any sort of gratification for him, and he could not quench his anger. The dark eyes, which had always remained calm, could not handle the surging turbulence and shook greatly. At that moment, the pale body bent forward in a sudden rebound. As he was about to thrust deep into his walls again with only the tip of his penis in, Ha Joyoon opened his bloodless lips, barely gasping for feeble breath. 

“There was no one else I could think of.”

The fierce movement stopped for a moment, voice burning through and leaving only white ashes. Both legs, unable to withstand the rough act, shook unsightly. His opening, which had lost its strength, seeped out traces of their love affairs and painted a bizarre picture.

“…I’m sorry.”

Ha Joyoon whispered quietly, sweeping his red eyes over the sheets. Shin Kwonjoo looked down at his sweaty brown hair, eyes glowing cold. Rather than a hot flame, his dark eyes radiated a blue chill that was colder than the Arctic ice. 

“I’m sorry, sunbae.”

The apology with unknown meaning was scattered in the air without value. Long eyelashes trembled achingly. There was a silence that contained countless meanings. It was a moment where all words and movements were paused, but the silence was warranted. 

Force slowly slipped out from the hand of the man who was holding his arm. His hands, which had been disoriented for a moment, stroked around the gaping entrance that held his penis, and slowly caressed his sweaty spine, back, and shoulders. The unspoken warmth felt in a span of seconds spread deep into his skin, muscles, and bones.

“…Don’t say useless things and just focus.” 

The sensations of his whole body danced with the fresh feeling of the penis stretching his folds again. Opening his tightly closed eyelids, they gently revealed eyes that contained autumn under his ample eyelashes. Unknown water dripped down between his eyelashes and cheeks. Perhaps it was sweat or a tear. The strength of the other arm, which wrapped around his waist, did not seem to let go for a long time after that.

 

“I hope nothing like this happens again.”

This was the first thing Shin Kwonjoo had uttered after they had reached their climaxes for the last time. Ha Joyoon nodded his head without saying a word, aware that he had done something wrong. 

“Don’t act so silly again.”

It was said in a tone that was difficult to decipher. Unable to tell if it was meant for Ha Joyoon or if he was speaking to himself. The man looked down at the floor as if thinking about something. Looking at his tight, muscular back for a moment, Ha Joyoon replied in a voice that lacked energy.

“…Okay.”

He felt cold eyes, but was overcome by tiredness. With his whole body’s muscles feeling like they would melt due to weariness, Ha Joyoon pulled down his garments again and went under the blankets. The white sheets crumpled along with his movements. At a passing thought, Ha Joyoon flung one arm through a gap under the blanket with his eyes still closed. 

“Sunbae, could you hand me my bag?”

It was a request, but also an undeniable errand. Cold annoyance passed through the dark eyes looking down at the lump wrapped under the sheets. He was wondering if he had heard the words from a while ago properly.

 

“You should get it yourself. You have to be diligently active to get better, don’t you?”

In contrast to his cynical tone, the man bent downwards and picked up the camera bag, which had casually fallen to the floor. Accepting it from him, Ha Joyoon made up nonsensical excuses. 

“…I didn’t have the energy to.”

“You’re a mess, Ha Joyoon.”

Smiling coolly, he turned his body away. After he came to the officetel, the fierce tension that filled the space was somewhat relieved by the sex they had.

Maybe it was a good thing. 

With little to no space left between them, the gaze from Ha Joyoon’s back moved back to the small black bag. The man with the simple piece of clothing headed to the shower room in the bedroom. The sound of his footsteps on the carpet were heavy. Step- Step- Thud- Soon after the door closed, Ha Joyoon heard the loud sound of water hitting the floor. Swoosh- Just like the sound of rain. It sounded like a sudden rain shower during a midsummer heat.

Chronic boredom had begun to spread like paint all over his body. If he fell asleep like this and opened his eyes after waking up, he feared what world would come to him.

Ha Joyoon, who had been listening to the rain under the sheets for a moment, soon remembered something and began to rummage through his bag with a languid touch. Then he took out his camera and a small box the size of his palm, turned his body again a little and laid down.

Click. 

The box was easily opened with a simple unravel and inside it were plenty of memory cards with different labels. He looked at them for a moment, then took out a card with a cursive label on a blue background and inserted it inside the camera. The open message popped up immediately and he pressed the ‘OK’ button. When he checked the ‘List’ button that followed, he began to see stories of an unfamiliar country on the tiny screen after a count of 1 and 2.

Most of the photos were of bloodied people and devastated villages. Just like still life, it was a city where everything was at standstill, whether it be the expressionless soldiers, or one of the photos of natural scenery that he often took as he crossed the border. Life was not always painful, even for those whose daily lives were exposed to deaths. The children sang songs, asked to take pictures, and married women seriously considered what to feed their husbands and children for dinner.

He suddenly felt a hot breeze around his neck. The wind, resembling longing, tickled his eyes and cheeks. As he moved on to the next photo, his heart was shaken by the reality trapped on the small screen. These minor opportunities eventually made him realize how much he loved the work of putting a world into his lens. But for the sake of his family, it was a desire not to be shown anymore. Putting his bitter feelings aside, Ha Joyoon slowly pressed a button. 

‘Are these the pictures you took?’ 

When he first returned home from covering a civil war zone, he had the photos laid out all over the room to organize them. That was the first question Kang Taejung asked when he visited Ha Joyoon’s room while he was immersed in sorting photos.

‘When did you arrive? Do you want to see the photos? I’ll explain them to you.’

‘Okay…’

‘This one is…’ 

It was Kang Taejung who always sincerely loved the photos he took. He was also a supporter who always appreciated Ha Joyoon’s photos along with him, sometimes warmly and sometimes critically. Even when he decided to walk the path of a reporter, Kang Taejung was sincerely pleased that Ha Joyoon’s isolated world which had been aligned with him, was now broadening. They’d had times like that.

He had been a lover who stood like a wall unshakable in the wind, quietly cheering and encouraging Ha Joyoon, and so Ha Joyoon couldn’t have suspected a thing. In retrospect, when he had been selected as a correspondent after his short-lived career as a general assignment reporter, Kang Taejung had been a troubled lover the moment Ha Joyoon chose the path of a war correspondent. Even though he knew this well, at that time he mistook it for his childhood when Kang Taejung was interested in his photos back in high school. The stupid belief that Kang Taejung liked and was curious about his photos was something he didn’t know could hurt the other.

 

He felt like it had just been yesterday. He couldn’t forget Kang Taejung’s expression, as he looked down without speaking while Ha Joyoon explained the photos one after the other. A sick, bitter, painful reality that couldn’t be made beautiful even by empty words. A scene of brutalized life. He didn’t understand the other’s feelings having to look at pictures his lover had risked his life to take.

When Ha Joyoon noticed it belatedly and arranged them in a hurry, it was already late, and only the wound of his lover, who was crying at the moment, was left. 

He was immature.

Immature and foolish.

Kang Taejung was Ha Joyoon’s first for everything. He was the first for friendship, love, affection and every other thing. He learned everything from one to ten through his relationship with Kang Taejung, but hadn’t realized that it was his first time. Kang Taejung’s heart was as wide as the sea and Ha Joyoon didn’t know any world aside from it. He also didn’t know that the sea surrounding him was drying up little by little because of the sweetness it gave him. It was true that it was his first time dealing with this, he might have been immature and probably couldn’t have known better.

But his past was full of him not knowing things. And ignorance couldn’t be an excuse in any case. Little by little, cracks began to make its way over his wax-looking, deadpan face. Even at that moment, all his destroyed and sealed feelings felt like they were about to pour out like a flood. 

“Photos again?”

At the sound of the low click of a tongue, his submerged thoughts fell apart. Freshened up and changed into casual clothing, Shin Kwonjoo walked to the bed Ha Joyoon was lying on. He roughly dried his damp hair with a towel. Move a bit. A low voice rang.

“…Do you want to see?”

“Let’s see.” 

In contrast to the tired sounding words, his voice was slightly mixed with a soft tone. Ha Joyoon glimpsed at him for a moment and turned the camera a little to show it to the other person next to him.  They were sitting closer than he thought, with Ha Joyoon’s shoulders brushing against his chest. The refreshing cologne scent naturally permeated.

“I received it in a package this morning.”

“Hmm.”

“I thought I lost it… but it was delivered along with my other things.” 

They couldn’t find anything but the memory card mounted inside his recovered camera. Nothing but his badly wounded body and camera, until he heard unexpected news from the embassy a few days ago.

While he was being treated, someone kept some of his luggage and they were able to deliver it to Korea by an informal route. Ha Joyoon ended the call soon after revealing his reserved feelings at the unexpected phone call. The small box contained his time that had stopped at age twenty-six and had been passed around for a long time but was now returned to its owner.

“Let me see.”

“Here… You can look at it in order.” 

“Hm.”

Fully seated, he gently touched Ha Joyoon’s nape and fixed his gaze on the photo. It was the site of the Ein Tarma area near Damascus, Syria. The backs of a woman and children hanging on a barbed wire, and the refugees walking behind them, tell the story of the desperate moment of the time. There was silence soon enough as the conversation broke off, leaving only the sound of their breaths. He took the camera away from Ha Joyoon completely and began to look in earnest.

 

The scene of war that filled the small screen changed every time he pressed a button with a pleasant touch. A family of refugees loading themselves on a small rubber yacht on the Orontes River along the Turkish-Syrian border, a boy fighter trained in parkour, white helmet agents who died disastrously at a scene where cannon balls were shot, the face of a refugee head searching for families who survived a capsized boat, the dead bodies of refugees on the coast of Greece, and a father wailing at the hand of his daughter who he had pulled out from a building that had collapsed due to bombing.

  





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