oasis
oasis
r
It’s been exactly 74 days since Jonghyun died. After he killed himself he got a job at the local copy shop, and moved into a studio apartment with peeling wallpaper and a broken faucet. It’s not what he expected. He’s always been an atheist, so you could say that he expected nothing. The last thing on his mind was a place like this, just like where he came from but a little bit worse. It almost makes him regret it in the first place, but then, he muses to himself, that’s probably the point, and he sits in front of his television to eat half cold instant noodles and watch the only channel that he gets.
He’s always been impulsive. His attention span is nothing impressive and so he doesn’t surprise himself whenever one day he’s packing up his old (and probably unreliable) car, deciding to go somewhere. There’s no specific destination in his mind, not even a map or a name, but something relaxing about driving out of the small city and into absolutely nowhere where it seems a little more like how the world used to be.
That’s where he finds a boy walking along the side of the road, occasionally turning and holding one thumb out, obviously looking for a ride or something similar. The clothes that he’s wearing are suggestive, and Jonghyun doesn’t really know why he slows the car and pulls up next to him, rolling down the window.
“I think you picked a bad spot to do business. Not too much traffic coming through today, huh?”
He doesn’t know himself if the comment is joking or serious or maybe somewhere in between. The boy doesn’t either, staring at him for a few short moments before making up his mind with a disgusted expression.
“Fuck you,” he responds, promptly turning and taking several steps forward, sticking out his thumb again despite the fact that Jonghyun is the only person around for miles. He follows until the boy stops walking again, this time parking the car and watching him for a few moments before reaching across the console and opening the passenger side door.
“Get in,” he says. “I’ll buy you breakfast.”
❖
The boy’s name is Kibum and he definitely isn’t a prostitute. He smells like cigarette smoke and talks too much, but Jonghyun finds that he doesn’t mind.
Twenty minutes after breakfast Kibum is straddling him in the front seat of his car and shaking while Jonghyun fucks him over the edge, both of them panting once it’s over. Kibum moves to the passenger seat and lights another cigarette while Jonghyun uses his shirt to wipe the cum off of his stomach. “That’s a first,” Kibum says nonchalantly, flicking ashes out the rolled-down window. “Something I wouldn’t mind getting used to,” Jonghyun says, and Kibum fidgets and doesn’t want to look at him.
“I said you were an amazing fuck, not that I want to get married,” Jonghyun says, starting the car and pulling back onto the road.
Kibum doesn’t respond.
❖
“How did you die?”
The question comes from the backseat, while Jonghyun is pretending to be asleep in the front. For a moment he doesn’t answer, but when he does it’s nothing special.
“I offed myself, just like everyone else here.” There’s a moment of silence, and he almost thinks that Kibum is satisfied with his answer.
“Not me.”
Jonghyun isn’t impressed or curious. He knows that it’s impossible, because there isn’t any other way.
“I’m stuck,” Kibum whispers, after Jonghyun is asleep and he knows he can’t hear him. It’s still better than never telling him.
❖
Jonghyun doesn’t know when it happens. Somewhere between the conversations and the sex, when they both start sleeping in the backseat. He’s used to Kibum and he knows that even if he won’t admit it to himself, just like he won’t admit the fact that he likes it whenever Kibum looks at him for too long or touches him.
Kibum knows. He knows it without Jonghyun ever having to say anything and it absolutely terrifies him, the way that he looks at him sometimes. He doesn’t have forever. But every time he tries to open his mouth to tell him again, something else comes out, because Jonghyun is already broken and he can’t bring himself to do it again.
He doesn’t have a choice.
❖
It’s been exactly 137 days since Jonghyun died. He wakes up in the backseat of his car with an aching back and the faintest smell of cigarette smoke. He’s alone again and there’s no trace of Kibum, nothing left behind.
The last thing he would have expected was something like this. Just like how it used to be, but worse. It almost makes him regret doing it in the first place.
But hey, he muses to himself, climbing into the front seat and starting up the car, that’s probably the point.
r
It’s been exactly 74 days since Jonghyun died. After he killed himself he got a job at the local copy shop, and moved into a studio apartment with peeling wallpaper and a broken faucet. It’s not what he expected. He’s always been an atheist, so you could say that he expected nothing. The last thing on his mind was a place like this, just like where he came from but a little bit worse. It almost makes him regret it in the first place, but then, he muses to himself, that’s probably the point, and he sits in front of his television to eat half cold instant noodles and watch the only channel that he gets.
He’s always been impulsive. His attention span is nothing impressive and so he doesn’t surprise himself whenever one day he’s packing up his old (and probably unreliable) car, deciding to go somewhere. There’s no specific destination in his mind, not even a map or a name, but something relaxing about driving out of the small city and into absolutely nowhere where it seems a little more like how the world used to be.
That’s where he finds a boy walking along the side of the road, occasionally turning and holding one thumb out, obviously looking for a ride or something similar. The clothes that he’s wearing are suggestive, and Jonghyun doesn’t really know why he slows the car and pulls up next to him, rolling down the window.
“I think you picked a bad spot to do business. Not too much traffic coming through today, huh?”
He doesn’t know himself if the comment is joking or serious or maybe somewhere in between. The boy doesn’t either, staring at him for a few short moments before making up his mind with a disgusted expression.
“Fuck you,” he responds, promptly turning and taking several steps forward, sticking out his thumb again despite the fact that Jonghyun is the only person around for miles. He follows until the boy stops walking again, this time parking the car and watching him for a few moments before reaching across the console and opening the passenger side door.
“Get in,” he says. “I’ll buy you breakfast.”
❖
The boy’s name is Kibum and he definitely isn’t a prostitute. He smells like cigarette smoke and talks too much, but Jonghyun finds that he doesn’t mind.
Twenty minutes after breakfast Kibum is straddling him in the front seat of his car and shaking while Jonghyun fucks him over the edge, both of them panting once it’s over. Kibum moves to the passenger seat and lights another cigarette while Jonghyun uses his shirt to wipe the cum off of his stomach. “That’s a first,” Kibum says nonchalantly, flicking ashes out the rolled-down window. “Something I wouldn’t mind getting used to,” Jonghyun says, and Kibum fidgets and doesn’t want to look at him.
“I said you were an amazing fuck, not that I want to get married,” Jonghyun says, starting the car and pulling back onto the road.
Kibum doesn’t respond.
❖
“How did you die?”
The question comes from the backseat, while Jonghyun is pretending to be asleep in the front. For a moment he doesn’t answer, but when he does it’s nothing special.
“I offed myself, just like everyone else here.” There’s a moment of silence, and he almost thinks that Kibum is satisfied with his answer.
“Not me.”
Jonghyun isn’t impressed or curious. He knows that it’s impossible, because there isn’t any other way.
“I’m stuck,” Kibum whispers, after Jonghyun is asleep and he knows he can’t hear him. It’s still better than never telling him.
❖
Jonghyun doesn’t know when it happens. Somewhere between the conversations and the sex, when they both start sleeping in the backseat. He’s used to Kibum and he knows that even if he won’t admit it to himself, just like he won’t admit the fact that he likes it whenever Kibum looks at him for too long or touches him.
Kibum knows. He knows it without Jonghyun ever having to say anything and it absolutely terrifies him, the way that he looks at him sometimes. He doesn’t have forever. But every time he tries to open his mouth to tell him again, something else comes out, because Jonghyun is already broken and he can’t bring himself to do it again.
He doesn’t have a choice.
❖
It’s been exactly 137 days since Jonghyun died. He wakes up in the backseat of his car with an aching back and the faintest smell of cigarette smoke. He’s alone again and there’s no trace of Kibum, nothing left behind.
The last thing he would have expected was something like this. Just like how it used to be, but worse. It almost makes him regret doing it in the first place.
But hey, he muses to himself, climbing into the front seat and starting up the car, that’s probably the point.