“Want to lie down? Should I be your pillow?”
Sitting on the grass, Somerset patted his thigh.
The offer was tempting, but Eden declined and instead lay on his stomach. The blanket was surprisingly soft.
Propping up one side of his chin, he opened the magazine. The very first page proudly featured a naked man with a giant plastic bottle wedged between his legs. It was obviously a vulgar attempt to grab attention.
“Wasn’t there a different magazine?”
Eden lifted his head and looked up at Somerset. Bending over him, Somerset had voluntarily taken on the role of a human sunshade, blocking the sunlight pouring down onto Eden.
“They said that one sells well.”
“If enjoying magazines like this is a requirement to qualify as a New Yorker, I quit.”
Reluctantly, but mindful of the effort Somerset had gone through to buy it for him, Eden turned the page. This time, the same man from before posed in nothing but a thong, proudly displaying his backside. The plump muscles of his ass pushed aggressively upward.
Covering it with one hand, Eden said,
“Come to think of it, you never told me.”
“Told you what? I don’t hide anything.”
“What kind of underwear you’re wearing today.”
Unless he wanted to suffer the humiliation of being imagined in a thong by other people, it would be better for him to answer honestly. Of course, Somerset didn’t look like he had any intention of hiding it anyway.
“Black briefs. They’ve got a snake pattern.”
Far from embarrassed, he even moved his hand between his legs as if to trace the shape of the snake, which made things difficult.
“I’ll pass on the detailed explanation.”
Trying to preserve his dignity as an intellectual, Eden lowered his head again. Unfortunately, the cheap magazine had thoroughly prepared itself to destroy his dignity and was waiting for him.
The moment he flipped past the provocative advertisement, the very first sentence of the next column made him frown.
“There’s no doubt a sex bomb exploded at that party.”
Somerset absentmindedly read it aloud, then scratched his head.
“Should I go buy something else?”
“It’s fine. Don’t go anywhere. Stay here. Come a little closer.”
“Hm?”
“Block this so passing kids can’t see it.”
Eden decided to make use of Somerset. Pretending not to notice how Somerset’s eyes seemed larger and deeper the closer he came.
More than the sun he was shielding him from with his own body, Somerset’s amber eyes felt hotter.
“You’re such a good adult. Thinking of things like that. Thanks to you, children everywhere now have a brighter future.”
“Good adults don’t read magazines like this outdoors.”
“That’s true.”
Normally, Somerset would’ve giggled at a moment like this, but instead he simply answered plainly. Eden glanced sideways at him biting down on his lower lip, then pretended not to notice that too and continued reading the column.
The graphic way it described sex using all kinds of explicit terminology disgusted him.
The magazine’s philosophy of “as long as it sells, who cares” quickly became nauseating, yet at the same time, it strangely stimulated his intellectual curiosity. The fact that trash like this apparently had demand made him feel as if he’d come face-to-face with the problems of modern society.
The following columns fabricated stories from a few blurry photographs. Eden, who discarded gossip and slander from his mind the moment he read them, tilted his head at one particular page.
The human sunshade Somerset had made wavered immediately. Since he’d been staring at Eden the entire time, his reaction was fast.
“Something wrong? No kids are passing by.”
“Do you know William Carter? Is he famous?”
Eden, who knew little about the entertainment industry or gossip culture, didn’t recognize the central figure of the scandal dominating the magazine. He only felt sickened by the allegations that the married man—apparently notorious for chasing after everyone regardless of age or gender—might have extended his reach even toward minors. His stomach churned.
Somerset nodded. Apparently William Carter was a fairly successful actor.
Eden sincerely hoped paparazzi chasing his fame had simply spread false rumors. If the part about a child victim was true, it would be a hundred, a thousand times better for this magazine to lose all credibility.
Though honestly, it didn’t seem like it had much credibility left to lose anyway.
After serving its purpose as a test of Eden’s morality, the column was discarded. He roughly flipped to the next page and read the slogan attached to a deodorant advertisement.
Snorting at the exaggerated claim that using this deodorant would make people flock to you, he suddenly lifted his head.
His gaze locked onto a man who clearly would attract attention no matter what, even without the help of artificial fragrance.
That man was looking at him too.
He probably had been this entire time.
If someone held a thermometer to Somerset’s eyes, the result would probably read impossible to measure.
They were too hot, soaring far beyond the highest value.
Meeting those blazing eyes, Eden found himself wondering:
Just how beautiful do I look to you?
It wasn’t arrogance or misunderstanding.
Somerset looked at Eden like someone utterly bewitched. If the heat in his gaze had been any less intense, it could’ve been mistaken for reverence toward a god.
That was how blind and desperate it felt.
Eden defined part of the emotion he sensed from him like this:
Wanting to know someone deeply enough to dissect them, wanting to stay naturally by their side like air itself, yet at the same time wanting your existence to leave a mark whenever you enter their sight.
Possessiveness.
Those eyes burning with possessiveness drew closer and closer. Somerset lowered his head in a perfect trajectory.
As if his movements themselves were saying: I’ve been pulled toward you.
Eden accepted him as he approached. And then it happened.
Somerset’s lips touched his forehead.
Soft. Firm.
The faint breath leaking between his trembling lips crashed over him like a massive wave.
It was astonishingly innocent.
The touch itself, the trembling, even Somerset’s reaction afterward.
The moment their lips parted, Somerset sprang to his feet and started breathing hard. He looked like a track athlete gasping after crossing the finish line, even though he’d only just stepped onto the starting line.
The instant one foot left the ground, his whole body spun around.
Running a hand violently through his hair, Somerset suddenly bolted.
Without even brushing the grass off his pants.
Fast.
Faster.
It was completely different from the leisurely pace of the joggers nearby. Far beyond even the memory of that rainy day they’d run together.
Before long, Somerset disappeared from sight entirely.
Eden covered his face with the cheap magazine.
“Pfft—!”
He’d prepared in advance because he knew laughter was about to burst out of him.
He didn’t want just anyone seeing a face like this.
He hated that idea.
You’re the only exception.
“Somerset Quinn.”
Laughing quietly to himself, Eden rolled the name around in his mouth.
Just saying it tasted sweet.
The alcohol he’d drunk earlier, his name now—this must be the taste of excitement.
***
Eden did not enjoy physical contact with other people.
When skin touched skin, he became too conscious of things difficult to control—body heat, texture, heartbeat—and disliked the discomfort that followed. Up until now, there had never been anyone he wanted to touch badly enough to endure that discomfort.
To begin with, he rarely even had the chance to recognize someone’s charm. Even when others approached him first, he simply pushed them away, so unless he fell in love at first sight, affection was difficult to develop.
Even his biological desires were mild enough to keep restrained, allowing him to live a calm, detached life.
The problem was the variable.
The variable called Somerset.
The endless charm spilling from him.
The kiss he’d impulsively stolen.
And Eden himself, unable to escape that kiss.
He felt like some hot-blooded, reckless teenage boy. Ironically, when he actually had been a teenager, he’d been an extremely proper and diligent student.
But now Eden was going through a delayed rebellion.
Every time he closed his eyes, Somerset appeared.
Especially the black inverted triangle sitting boldly on his lower body—it thoroughly disrupted Eden’s sanity.
At first he’d been bewildered.
Then troubled.
Eventually, he could only laugh in disbelief.
“I’ve lost my mind.”
Feeling awkward even with himself for behaving so recklessly, Eden touched his forehead over and over, almost to the point of worrying it might wear down.
The next place his hands wandered was inside his pants.
Grabbing the cock wrapped inside his underwear, he rolled his hips upward and downward.
It had only been a short while since he’d showered and thrown himself onto the bed. The moisture had dried from his refreshed skin, yet sweat was already slowly beginning to gather.
For him, masturbation had always been nothing more than release.
A practical act performed to prevent physiological discomfort.
He did it because it was necessary.
That was why even at the moment of climax, the sensation usually remained lukewarm. As if his body were merely a machine undergoing routine maintenance.
He had never expected anything human from it, nor had he ever thought to.
But now—
“Haah…”
This was the first time even his hot breaths had felt sticky.
The signals pouring from his heated body made Eden dizzy.
Beyond merely departing from his usual calm and entering abnormal territory, he had plunged into burning confusion.
The road back to normal felt impossibly far away.
Coincidentally—or perhaps fortunately.
By now, Eden’s underwear was already slightly damp. Pulling it down, he finally wrapped his hand directly around his cock.
Slowly brushing his thumb over the sensitive tip, he imagined Somerset’s hands.
Long fingers with thick knuckles.
Broad palms.
Veins twitching across the backs of his hands.
The feeling of those hands touching his hair.
Then his focus shifted to Somerset’s firm arm muscles.
Strong shoulders reminiscent of a swimmer’s.
A thick, smooth neck.
A broad back.
His healthy bronze skin reminded Eden of milk chocolate.
Perfectly balanced between milk and chocolate.
Just imagining the taste made saliva gather in his mouth.
Even as his mouth grew wet, the thirst only intensified.
If humans had mating seasons, then this must have been his.
He couldn’t control the lust stirring his senses.
His erection jerked threateningly.
The shape was almost club-like, and Eden felt a strange sense of unfamiliarity from it.
Even that awkward feeling was quickly consumed by heat.
He stroked along the sensitive skin over and over.
The more friction built, the more both his body and the pleasure swelled.
This was completely different from his usual masturbation, where pleasure came hand-in-hand with fatigue and boredom.
This was hotter. More immersive.
And his thoughts never stopped. Thoughts about Somerset Quinn.
“There’s no doubt a sex bomb exploded at that party.”
He remembered Somerset’s voice reading the magazine’s trashy sentence aloud.
Sex.
The word had sounded strangely provocative coming from his mouth. Or maybe it had only sounded that way to Eden.
“New York sunsets are pretty nice too, huh?”
He remembered the look in Somerset’s eyes reflected through the cocktail glass.
He wondered what it would’ve tasted like if he’d licked something sunset-colored like that with his tongue.
Maybe it would’ve been too hot to taste anything at all.
Eden licked his lower lip with a tongue that felt heated from imagination alone.
Somerset’s lips against his forehead had been warmer still.
I want to feel your body heat more.
I want to become an object of desire to you.
Actually, I think I already am.
Please don’t tell me I’m wrong.
Strength naturally tightened in the hand gripping his cock.
Normally, arousal built only sluggishly, forcing him to move his arm endlessly just to reach climax.
But not today.
Today, simply touching himself was enough to excite him.
Even lightly tracing the head with his fingertips felt unbearably intense.
His climax was close.
Imagining, with embarrassingly dirty thoughts, how firm Somerset’s chest might feel beneath his hands, Eden came.
Thick milky fluid spilled down.
Out of habit, he almost reached up to touch his face, but stopped after noticing how damp his palm had become.
His hand drifted downward again.
One release wasn’t enough.
Still wet, he started masturbating again.
After spending time alone with himself like this, one thing became even clearer.
He wanted Somerset.
Desperately. Violently.
Anyone who wasn’t an idiot would’ve realized it by now.
He regretted not exchanging phone numbers with Somerset. He wanted to call him immediately and say it already.
No… it would be better face-to-face.
Should he ask him to come out?
Would it be rude to show up at his house in the middle of the night?
Looking out into the darkening evening, Eden felt a sharp sense of regret.
After calming his impatience, he washed himself again and lay back down on the bed, trying to organize his thoughts rationally.
He placed Somerset at the center of his mind and let countless branches of thought spread outward from him.
But no matter what he thought about or how he approached it, Somerset kept barging in and destroying his concentration with that charming smile.
He even tried deliberately forcing himself into negative thoughts, but he still couldn’t avoid him.
Every branch of thought eventually returned to the center.
Somerset.
He was both the starting point and the conclusion.
Eden couldn’t sleep at all that night. Because Somerset wouldn’t let him go.
He thought about him so constantly that it almost felt as though Somerset were physically beside him.
He replayed memories, built new fantasies, moved endlessly between past, present, and future.
Somerset, lively no matter when or where, kept his consciousness vividly awake, leaving no room for exhaustion.
The moment dawn broke, Eden climbed out of bed and hurriedly prepared to go out.
Standing before the mirror, checking his hair and the fit of his clothes, he realized something.
This had been happening often lately. Every single time he went to see Somerset.
Now he understood why. What had changed him like this.
It was that emotion stirring restlessly inside his chest whenever he thought about him.
Eden was skeptical about relationships between people, yet ironically, he believed in the emotions people shared—especially love.
Because he knew people who had risked everything and sought out new lives for the sake of it.
