“Are you seriously scared of a Jaws that obviously looks fake? The makeup’s worse than movies from decades ago.”
Somerset whispered against his ear. When Somerset’s lips lightly brushed his earlobe, Eden flinched. Every nerve in his body focused there instantly. If he turned his head toward him, they would end up kissing, so he kept his eyes fixed on the screen as he answered.
“Isn’t Jaws usually scary?”
Since he’d pretended to be frightened and grabbed Somerset’s hand, he couldn’t confess the truth now.
That it wasn’t scary at all.
“The real Jaws would be scary. But that thing…”
“Want to watch something else?”
They were in one of the playrooms at Somerset’s house. It would’ve been easy enough to choose another movie and put it on the screen, but Somerset refused, saying it was too much trouble. In truth, he probably just wanted to keep staying like this and didn’t even want to separate long enough to fetch the remote.
Eden saw right through him.
Because he felt the same way.
Christmas Jaws was a movie with the simple plot of the protagonist fighting Jaws on Christmas Eve. The Jaws itself looked cheap, the story was weak, the acting terrible—overall, it was a complete mess. Even so, the cinematography and final twist weren’t unbearably awful.
By the time the ending credits rolled, Somerset had climbed onto Eden’s thigh and monopolized his entire field of vision.
One hand remained intertwined with Eden’s while the other rested on his shoulder. Idly rubbing the shirt collar with his thumb, he leaned forward. His lips hovered close enough to touch as they moved softly.
“This feels more like a movie than the movie itself. My life these days, I mean.”
Before the credits finished rolling, Eden turned on the small lamp beside the sofa. Somerset’s outline rippled beneath the dim light. The shape of his lips looked especially captivating.
“What genre? What kind of movie?”
“At least not the one we just watched. Ah, though my teeth might be as strong as Jaws’s.”
He bit the tip of Eden’s nose.
It tickled more than it hurt, but Eden exaggerated dramatically.
“I think my nose got bitten off. Could you check for me?”
“Let’s see. Is Eden Reed’s pretty nose still attached?”
Somerset deliberately wore a serious expression as he stroked the bridge of Eden’s nose with his fingertips. The next step involved his lips.
Then his tongue.
Only after completing all three procedures did he declare the nose unharmed. Eden rubbed his perfectly intact nose against Somerset’s shoulder and lowered his hand.
“My hands got sweaty.”
They’d been holding hands tightly moments ago, so his palms were damp. He felt self-conscious about touching bare skin after lifting Somerset’s clothes.
But it turned out not to matter at all.
Somerset, wisely enough, already had the answer.
“It’s okay. We’re both gonna end up soaked anyway.”
Just as he said, they became drenched together. After passing through a series of blatantly explicit scenes, Somerset ended up naked, while Eden remained with only his pants and underwear shoved down. His shirt looked like rags, several buttons torn off and the fabric wrinkled beyond saving.
Eden stared at Somerset riding him, hips moving slowly from exhaustion yet dropping deep enough each time to drive him all the way inside. It almost looked as if the area beneath Somerset’s navel might bulge outward.
Somerset seemed conscious of the same thing, because his abdomen tightened. The sharper definition of his muscles made it easier to see.
Every time Eden thrust hard into him, the inner walls clung greedily around his cock. His thick shaft became a club crushing flesh one moment, then a balloon stretched to the verge of bursting from the tightness the next.
In the end, Eden used both condoms he’d brought in his back pocket. Somerset deliberately searched them out after Eden had tied them off and cleaned up.
“I can’t tell if it looks thinner than the first time or not.”
Eden wiped Somerset down first with tissues and a handkerchief, then straightened his own shirt. With only a few buttons left, it hung loosely.
“I don’t particularly want my semen right in front of my face.”
“I’m checking on your health status.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. Throw them away.”
Reluctantly tossing the condoms out, Somerset wrapped his arms around Eden’s neck and blew little puffs of air against him.
“Puh, puh.”
He was sulking because his toy had been taken away. Eden soothed him by patting his back.
“Next time, you wear a condom too. I won’t stop you from playing with yours.”
“No thanks. Thinking about doing that with my own feels kind of gross.”
“That’s exactly how I feel watching you play around with mine.”
“Ouch!”
For a moment it seemed the persuasion had worked, but Somerset immediately proposed a new idea.
“Then let’s play with one yours and one mine. How’s that?”
“I don’t know. Let’s discuss it next time. Here, stand up.”
Eden helped Somerset get dressed. He suggested they go wash up right away since they probably felt sticky, but followed Somerset’s wishes when he said he wanted to keep lounging around a little longer.
One corner of the playroom held a small bed. The first thing they did after lying down on the bed covered with Middle Eastern Asian-style blankets was engage in heated debate.
About who would provide the arm pillow.
“Look at my arm muscles. It’d be a waste not to use them.”
Somerset’s voice was louder, but things still went exactly the way Eden wanted.
“I want to put your head here and stroke it. Your soft hair, I mean.”
“Saying that with that expression is cheating.”
“I said it normally. I can’t really tell what expression I’m making since I can’t see myself.”
When Eden caressed his face, Somerset protested and pressed his lips to Eden’s cheek. Then he naturally lowered himself and rested his head on Eden’s arm.
Just as promised, Eden stroked his hair.
Like a well-groomed long-haired puppy.
“I might fall asleep because this feels so good.”
“Want me to wash you while you sleep? Ah, no, that’d wake you up.”
“Idiot. You carry books around every day, yet you’re smart in all the useless ways.”
“It’s been a while since I carried books around.”
Because the time he used to devote to reading had been stolen by the man in his arms. Even without him saying it aloud, Somerset understood and looked deeply pleased with himself.
“That’s my accomplishment.”
“Yeah.”
Far from falling asleep, Somerset started squirming around not long after settling down quietly. He patted Eden’s chest, then slid a hand beneath his shirt to play with his nipple. Half rising onto his upper body, he looked down at Eden and grinned. Eden had thought he’d brushed Somerset’s hair neatly, but the curls had sprung back up everywhere, fluffing wildly.
“I think my ass feels hot.”
“Want me to touch it?”
“Then it’ll get even hotter, so no.”
“What’s hot? Inside or outside?”
“Both.”
Somerset held up his index and middle fingers, then flipped them upside down and walked them along Eden’s neck. It looked like a tiny doll walking on two legs. Watching Eden quietly endure the teasing, Somerset said:
“You’re too gentle.”
“I’m trying to be that way with you.”
If it weren’t you, I wouldn’t bother. It’s easier being dry and barren. You’re the only exception.
Smiling faintly, Eden cupped Somerset’s cheek. It pleased him to see Somerset naturally touching a kind of tenderness unfamiliar even to himself—perhaps the most unfamiliar thing of all.
Whenever he was with Somerset, a self that had been curled up deep inside him surfaced.
So I’m capable of showing affection, connecting with someone, loving someone.
The realization came hand in hand with expectation.
Someday, would he be able to show Somerset every part of himself?
“Somerset.”
“Yeah?”
“What’s the beginning of your memory? The very first thing you remember.”
“My first memory? Hmm.”
Somerset fell into thought, winking one eye out of habit. Soon, the distinct lines around his eyes shifted gently.
“Ice cream.”
The keyword he came up with was innocent and cute. To Eden—whose own keywords were blood, guns, murder—it felt even more so.
“I was little, wearing a tuxedo. I had a white bow tie around my neck. My curled bangs were slicked tightly back. I got annoyed because it felt stuffy, and someone gave me ice cream.”
Eden imagined a tiny Somerset dressed perfectly from head to toe. He seemed like the type who would’ve stared down an ice cream cone with a grumpy expression.
“I got excited while eating the ice cream and ran around until I fell. Like in a cartoon—arms stretched out, bam! Of all things, I dropped the ice cream onto my mom’s dress, and the atmosphere instantly turned icy. Everyone panicked and looked horrified. It was a gathering where my mother had invited guests.”
The smile vanished from Somerset’s face, his brows drooping dramatically. His expressive features heightened the immersion.
“I had to hear endlessly about how valuable that dress was. Designer Lucas’s final work, painstakingly completed from his sickbed, and one of only five in existence. Since I ruined one, apparently I increased the rarity value for the people who owned the other four.”
Remembering the misery of the time, Somerset jutted out his lips before turning the question back on him.
“What about you? Where and when does your memory begin?”
Eden froze.
The sharp crack of gunfire embedded itself in his head. The scene he’d witnessed that day, the temperature beneath the table where he’d hidden, the smell, how violently his body shook, the emotions, the numb haze afterward—all of it remained engraved like a brand.
He could never forget it.
It felt like a vicious curse.
Any memories from before then were just fragments he’d later attached to that day. Everything else had been blown away by the shock of the gunshot, leaving only that single scene perfectly preserved.
It belonged to a completely different genre from the adorable anecdote of a rambunctious little boy.
In the end, he lied.
“…I don’t remember very well.”
It still felt too early to open up about it. He was afraid of shattering this peaceful happiness.
“Then that’s not the beginning point.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No. If you don’t remember it, it can’t be the beginning of your memories.”
Somerset’s sharp observation made Eden flinch for a moment, but he continued calmly.
“Then what should count as the beginning point?”
“Something that makes you feel good. Use that.”
“But that’s just a memory that makes me happy. Not the first one.”
“They’re your memories, so you can decide however you want.”
The argument contradicted what Somerset himself had just said and had flimsy logic, yet it was strangely persuasive.
Probably because of Somerset’s characteristic confidence.
“What about you? By that logic, you could start your memories over too.”
“I like my memories. The ice cream I ate back then tasted amazing.”
He said that after he’d fallen into despair, Jonas had given him another ice cream.
With one extra scoop compared to the original.
“And the dress my mother changed into afterward was prettier. If it’s for Deborah Quinn, who wants to look wonderful in front of people, I’m more than willing to get scolded a little. I’m the kind of man who can gladly sacrifice himself for a lady.”
Somerset’s positive way of thinking was admirable. Even distorted memories felt as if they might transform after passing through him.
Someday, hopefully they could.
Until then, Eden carefully chose the memory that would stand in as his first.
The toast he’d eaten for breakfast on the day he’d wet himself and been held in his parents’ arms. It had only been bread toasted golden-brown with jam spread over it, but it tasted incredibly good.
As Eden twitched his lips recalling the flavor, a certain man suddenly came to mind.
He appeared against the backdrop of the wealthy Upper East Side. Leaning against the window frame, he looked like a richly colored masterpiece painting.
‘Hello.’
When he greeted him like that, Eden already knew.
He knew Somerset was speaking to him.
‘Hey, you there!’
Even though Eden knew he was calling him, he walked past. Because he was too shaken.
Even then, instinct already knew.
Eden was going to become captivated by that man.
Even the single ray of sunlight sliding over Somerset’s bronze skin felt fresh and alive.
It was too recent to make into a first memory, but somehow it fit.
Maybe at that moment—when their story began—Eden was born again.
***
Humans need to doubt their happiness from time to time.
Otherwise, when happiness is suddenly threatened, it can be stolen away while they stand completely defenseless.
The second time Eden witnessed murder in his life was closer to inevitability than coincidence. Considering both the past and present of his far-from-ordinary parents, he’d always sensed that someday an incident would occur, so he wasn’t surprised.
The scene of the incident was the Reed residence in the Upper East Side.
The time was around ten at night.
It was a night where darkness and silence hung thickly intertwined.
If one traced Eden’s movements back five hours earlier, this was what happened:
After thoroughly enjoying himself in the playroom and washing up, he left Somerset’s house earlier than usual. Somerset had completely forgotten about an obligation to attend a high-society party and had gotten thoroughly scolded for it.
‘I don’t have to go. So don’t leave. Stay with me. Parties are boring and not fun.’
‘If you get bored, think about what we should do tomorrow. How about that?’
He’d been so busy calming Somerset’s sulking that he forgot to bring an umbrella. Since the house next door was so close, he intended to dash over quickly anyway. But while raising a hand over his head against the damp air, he realized the rain had already stopped.
Perfect timing, he thought, deciding to visit the bookstore.
Somerset had been the one to first suggest a bookstore date, but Eden was sure he’d only said it to match Eden’s tastes. Rather than dragging him along unwillingly, Eden thought it would be better if Somerset genuinely developed an interest in books so they could enjoy them together.
After choosing books to recommend to Somerset and grabbing a simple dinner at a nearby restaurant, he returned home.
And now—
While wondering whether giving Somerset a note together with the book would be too romantic, Eden noticed an unfamiliar man and froze.
The motion-sensor light by the entrance stretched far enough to illuminate the person standing behind the man too.
Though her cheeks had grown thinner since the last time he’d seen her, Eden recognized her easily.
Leslie.
Codename Green.
A close friend and colleague of his parents, someone whose visits had grown infrequent over the years.
Just as Eden silently held his breath from the tension of the unexpected encounter, the unfamiliar man collapsed with blood pouring from his neck.
It happened in the blink of an eye.
