# 05. The Dying Earth and the Apple Tree (1)
Between their locked lips, through the tangled flesh, hot breaths escaped. The hand that had initially pressed against Seo Yeojun’s chest to push him away now clung desperately to his shoulders. As reason warned him to pull away and instinct drowned in the sweetness, their connection deepened. The longer Yeojun hesitated, the longer their bodies remained entwined. Park Euntae wanted nothing more than to touch him further, to bury himself deeper into Yeojun.
Euntae’s hands, which had been cradling Yeojun’s face, slowly slid downward. One hand settled at the nape of his neck, while the other traced down his shoulder, naturally caressing his back. The touch was gentle, almost tender, but the unfamiliar sensation made Yeojun flinch. Instead of retreating, he found himself leaning in even closer. Euntae’s hands never missed an opportunity. He gripped Yeojun’s waist firmly, pulling him flush against him, and when Yeojun tensed to escape, Euntae wrapped both arms around his waist, pressing his face in to seal their lips together.
Yes, up until that point, it had been good. So, so good.
“I shouldn’t have said that, you idiot.”
The vocal’s screaming shattered his eardrums, and the crowd’s ecstatic cheers filled the air. In this space where everything was drenched in excitement, Euntae alone stared coldly at the revelers. Or so it seemed. His expression betrayed nothing, but his mind was far from icy. The lingering heat of their first intense kiss burned hotter than the summer sun, only to be replaced by self-loathing for ruining the moment. The thought of being chased out by Yeojun, left with nowhere to go, and now forced to meet Huiseung—it made his blood run cold.
“Hyung, can we go a little further?”
There had been no time to react. In the fleeting moment their lips parted, before he could even catch his breath, the words had slipped out—serious, desperate, and laced with desire. The kiss had been impulsive at first, but as their breaths intertwined, Euntae had lost control faster than he’d expected. The question—”Can we go further?”—had been both a confession of his true feelings and a probe to see if Yeojun would allow it. He should have just gone with the flow, pushed forward without overthinking. But coercion had never been his style.
“Asking already means you’re out.”
Yeojun wasn’t the type to surrender just because Euntae pressed forward. Still, the fact that he hadn’t shoved him away or resisted strongly until the kiss ended might have been a positive sign. Of course, Yeojun had a history of shamelessly crossing lines before, but even then, he had always drawn a final boundary.
“Friend, you’re scaring me. Either cry, laugh, or at least make a face.”
A small laugh escaped Euntae as he lifted the beer bottle to his lips. Huiseung’s familiar voice cut through his thoughts. Startled, Euntae flinched and took a step back, earning a teasing “Scared?” from Huiseung. Euntae scoffed—Who’s scared?—but Huiseung just grinned and poked his chest. “Seems like it.” Euntae decided ignoring him was the best response and took another sip of beer.
“Why call me when I’m busy?”
“You’re never too busy to ignore me, so don’t act like it.”
“I am busy. Busier than you think.”
“If you were really busy, you’d ignore my calls. You picked up in five seconds.”
“Next time, I’ll ignore you.”
“Ah, come on.”
“Not cute at all, so drop the act.”
Euntae had clear tastes and boundaries when it came to love and friendship. The same pouting or tantrums that would be endearing from Yeojun became unbearable from Huiseung. Sensing his mood, Huiseung asked what was wrong. Euntae didn’t answer immediately. Normally, he wasn’t this prickly, but lately, his emotional bandwidth was entirely consumed by Yeojun. Huiseung, oblivious, just thought, “What’s gotten into this guy?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I’m actually in a great mood.”
He had been kicked out after the kiss, but after some analysis, he concluded it wasn’t entirely negative. His mood was, in fact, excellent. The thought that “this might not be a no” quickly spiraled into “this could be a green light,” sending his spirits soaring. To an outsider, Euntae’s face might have seemed cold and unapproachable, but Huiseung saw the sincerity in his expression. Deciding not to waste time, he cut to the chase.
“I need you to write lyrics for me.”
“Lyrics?”
Huiseung nodded. It wasn’t an out-of-the-blue request. Euntae had written lyrics for Huiseung’s songs before. Huiseung usually composed everything himself but occasionally asked others for lyrics, finding it interesting to see different interpretations of the same melody. He didn’t ask just anyone—only Euntae or his bandmates. They had been in the same college band, after all.
“Just this once, help me out, Park-sunbae. My songs feel too much like me lately.”
Before Euntae could respond, Huiseung grabbed his hand, his eyes earnest. Euntae hesitated—those eyes were hard to refuse.
“And wasting your talent is a sin. Might as well use it for a friend. Build some karma.”
Huiseung’s insistence stemmed from genuine admiration for Euntae’s lyrics. Euntae had a knack for it, a talent Huiseung didn’t hesitate to call exceptional. Back in college, Euntae had even won a poetry contest, surprising everyone, including himself. Back then, his career aspirations had been limited to law or civil service. In hindsight, it was almost predictable that he’d never settled on a path.
“I won’t do it for free.”
“Fine. I’ll buy you dinner. Fleece me dry.”
“How about splitting a bean?”
“You’re shameless. How do you say that with a straight face?”
“I’m joking. Why would a top star like you need to flatter me? Managers are lining up to work with you.”
It wasn’t a joke. Huiseung knew Euntae was aware of his interest, yet he played dumb. Huiseung seethed but held his ground.
“How about ramen tonight? I’ll have you wrapped around my finger in a day.”
Euntae glanced at Huiseung in the rearview mirror as the car paused at a light. Their eyes met, and Huiseung didn’t back down. Euntae looked away first.
“I’m busy.”
He rejected him flatly and drove off. Huiseung’s expression had been serious, but Euntae assumed it was just stubbornness. Rumor had it Huiseung had recently broken up with someone—no official confirmation, but the industry treated it as an open secret. Their on-again, off-again relationship had been intense and long-lasting. Euntae figured Huiseung’s advances were half-joking, half-out of habit. He didn’t take it seriously.
And his thoughts, as always, circled back to Yeojun.
***
Left. Then right. Left again. Then still for ten seconds before rolling right once more. Eventually, he lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. He had no sense of how long he’d been tossing and turning. He’d gone to bed early, so it had to have been at least an hour.
The dark room was familiar, even comforting. Yeojun had grown used to solitude. He didn’t feel sad or lonely—he was too old for such sentiments, and he’d never been the sentimental type. But in the silence, stray thoughts inevitably surfaced, and he couldn’t escape them.
“Hyung, can we go a little further?”
That moment replayed first. It had been the most intense part of his day, so it was only natural. Even if he tried not to think about it, the effort itself meant he was already conscious of it.
He had sensed Euntae’s sincerity in that question. Understanding its meaning wasn’t difficult. Yeojun wasn’t oblivious, and he’d once loved someone enough to consider marriage. He might not grasp the full depth of Euntae’s emotions, but he recognized the growing affection. He had hesitated—should he push Euntae away or let it slide? The indecision had cost him the chance to reject him, and he’d allowed that deep, lingering kiss. Now, as he lay there, he wondered if his complacency had been a mistake.
He sat up abruptly.
Was this cup here before? Stepping into the kitchen to grab a drink, his eyes landed on an unfamiliar design. It wasn’t completely new, but it wasn’t something he used often. As he filled it with water, Euntae’s face flashed in his mind. The cup had been a replacement—Euntae had broken the old one and bought this.
“Chamomile tea is good for insomnia. I saw it and thought of you.”
He couldn’t recall exactly when, but the image of Euntae holding a jar full of chamomile tea bags was vivid. Euntae had a way of leaving a strong impression—whether it was his striking looks, his knack for getting under people’s skin, or both. Even earlier that evening, Yeojun had recognized him instantly through the falling snow. Now, the memory of Euntae was so vivid that the discomfort from the studio earlier didn’t even cross his mind.
It wasn’t bad. The first snow of the season had left him with more pleasant memories than unpleasant ones. But he wondered how long that would last. What if, in the end, only Euntae remained? Would that still be good?
Yeojun carried his cup to the living room. He decided to stop overthinking and just enjoy the snow, which had started falling again.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
