CRANK 35

When Dobin woke up and rushed out to the living room, Hoyoon was nowhere to be seen. It was still the early hours of the morning, before dawn had even broken.

Sighing deeply, Dobin stood before Hoyoon’s bedroom door and knocked, even though he knew he wasn’t there. Knock, knock— The sound of the small knock echoed through the empty house.

“Sunbae.”

Dobin knocked on the door once more. Then, he pressed his ear against it. There was no sign of anyone, and only then did Dobin carefully open the door.

“Haa….”

Exhaling another sigh, Dobin roughly wiped his face with one hand. There was no one in the room. Only the haphazardly tangled bedding, clearly showing how quickly he had left, greeted Dobin.

It had already been three days. That Hoyoon would come in at the crack of dawn and leave just as early.

On the first day, he thought he must be busy with filming, and on the second day, he contacted Youngjun to check the schedule, and finally, it was the third day. Dobin was certain.

That Hoyoon was avoiding him.

Out of habit, Dobin grabbed the bedding and came out to the living room. After shaking the bedding out vigorously a few times on the wide veranda connected to the living room, Dobin stealthily buried his face in it. As he felt as though he could smell a faint trace of Hoyoon’s scent, a deeper sigh burst out.

Holding the bedding tight against his chest, Dobin laid down on the living room sofa. Rubbing his face against the bedding as if it were Hoyoon himself, Dobin suddenly jumped up, overcome by a surging emotion. His eyes shone fiercely between his disheveled hair.

“What on earth is this?”

Dobin muttered quietly to himself. Why would Hoyoon suddenly start avoiding him? Not when he asked for his number at their first meeting, not when he showed up at his house uninvited, not when he made a sudden confession, not when he asked to live together, and not even when they spent the end of the year together and he didn’t miss the chance to kiss him.

“He’s never been like this before….”

The day Hoyoon started avoiding Dobin, all Dobin had done was visit the film set and beg him to feed him. Perhaps he should have been more careful in a public place? If it wasn’t that, then….

“…Kang Leehyun?”

Since they had ended up living in the same house, he had thought he would no longer have to suffer from the thirst of longing, yet for several days now, Dobin hadn’t seen even a single strand of Hoyoon’s hair. It would be one thing if he could endure it for a while, but he had already faced Hoyoon, exchanged words, shared drinks, and even brushed his lips against his—there was no way he could hold back any longer. Dobin’s patience had long since run out.

— Hey, Woo Dobin. Are you actually having a hard time? If it’s because you’re stressed out….

“I’m hanging up.”

Dobin irritably grabbed his phone and ended the call.

“Haa….”

The underwear inside the washing machine, and Park Hoyoon, who was avoiding him. Dobin tapped his fingers on the table, tap, tap, thinking about the correlation between those two things. If the two were truly related, it might mean that Hoyoon had soaked his underwear while thinking of him.

Hoyoon’s hand that had gripped his forearm when they kissed, his ragged breathing, even his aroused genitalia. It wasn’t entirely an impossible story. …Or is it, am I thinking too positively?

After contemplating for a moment, Dobin scratched his head vigorously, jumped up, and headed to Hoyoon’s bedroom. He then threw himself onto the bed, resigned to the fact that the bedding he had worked so hard to tidy up would be ruined.

Hoyoon’s quilt wrapped around his bare body, which was covered only by a towel. Dobin let out a breath that sounded satisfied, or perhaps one that was stifled.

If Dobin’s guess was true, now was not the time to pull, but to push. He had to distance himself from Hoyoon’s side and make him desperate. He had to make him struggle and worry alone, and eventually come looking for Dobin himself.

…Is he filming well? Is he cold? Is he getting by on tasteless meals? He isn’t with that blue-antenna bastard, is he? At the thought of Hoyoon that flowed as naturally as breathing, Dobin rubbed his face into the pillow and muttered.

“I really… miss you, Park Hoyoon.”

The problem was that even if that were the case, it was impossible for Dobin to push Hoyoon away.

Because what Dobin wanted with Hoyoon was not a fling, but love. Because his heart would naturally grow impatient whenever he stood in front of Hoyoon, to the point where he couldn’t even manage the simple calculation of pushing and pulling, and there was no way to measure such a feeling.

🍋🍁

I want to make it clear that I was someone who didn’t have sexual desires. Throughout my twenty-nine years of life, I never once had any interest in the erotic content pouring out of various media. I also thought that many of the things that happened because one couldn’t control their sexual desire were pathetic.

Yes, I thought… that was the case. Until a few days ago.

A wet dream, of all things. I’m not a hormonal child. And with another man as the subject, no less.

It had been three days since I started waking up at the crack of dawn and sneaking out of the house like a thief. For the first time in my celebrity life, I contacted Youngjun before my scheduled filming time and arrived at work hours early. It was fortunate that I had morning filming, at least.

In an already exhaustingly busy schedule, intentionally arriving early and leaving late meant my body was naturally drained to the bone. Having barely slept for two nights because I couldn’t even rest comfortably at home, my body pleaded for relief.

This was all… because of Woo Dobin. I was afraid that if I closed my eyes, I would have that dream again.

The problem was that even if I opened my eyes, the situation didn’t change much. Since that day, my mind had been completely filled with thoughts of Woo Dobin and that dream.

Why on earth? Like the old wives’ tale that you become a wizard if you don’t date for a long time, there might be something wrong with my body as I approach thirty years of living alone. Maybe I haven’t relieved my sexual desire for so long that I’ve… caught some sort of disease….

I shook my head roughly. Disease, my foot. Where is there a disease that makes you have wet dreams? Furthermore, that was definitely a dream I had unconsciously. The perverted bastard who imagined swaying his hips on top of Woo Dobin was none other than me.

Even though all Woo Dobin did that day was give me a peck. No, wait, it was wrong of him to show off that well-toned body so carelessly. If anyone were to see that body…. Fuck.

Self-loathing surged at my self-justification. There’s no way everyone is like that. It’s just that I… am indeed a hopeless, perverted bastard. On top of that, for some reason, didn’t I even rub my butt against Woo Dobin’s ‘there’?