Iseul’s phone has been buzzing nonstop throughout the entire day.
After forgetting to keep Leo updated after his meeting with Kuro, having disappeared from Meteor Entertainment's company building without notice, it's not surprising that Leo thought he was actually kidnapped. Leo always did have a tendency to overreact, but he agrees that he shouldn't have brushed him off like that.
He writes a quick message to Leo, if only to appease him.
managerleo
He brought you to Japan?! To an inn of all places?!
Next thing I know, you’re going to tell me there’s only one bed.
haniseul
There’s only one bed.
managerleo
OH MY GOD.
HAN ISEUL, I’M WORRIED.
haniseul
Weren’t you the one who was most excited about the prospects of us being together?
managerleo
This is different! You don’t know what Lee Kuro is actually like! I swear, if he even says anything weird, I’m coming way there to get you immediately!
Too late for that.
Iseul turns off the vibration from the incoming messages and slides his phone into his pocket. He’s going to get an earful from Leo later. “This is the only room you have? Why is there only one bed?”
Aoi tilts his head to the side in a display of childish confusion and curiosity. “Couples usually want one bed, right?”
Kuro doesn’t hide his amused huff well enough, from where he's already flopped over one side of the bed. Either they truly appear like a couple, or news of their apparent relationship reached a small seaside town like this.
Iseul makes a note to throttle Kuro later. “Can we switch to two futons instead?”
“Sure!” Aoi looks unsure, but he nods anyway. “Let me go get them!”
The moment he leaves through the sliding doors, Iseul turns to Kuro, entirely unamused.
Kuro’s eyes shine with apologetic humor.
* * *
“Turn around.”
Kuro’s languidly looking at Iseul, chest-deep in the hot spring bath. “Why? There’s nothing to hide—”
“Turn around.”
With a resigned sigh, Kuro does as he's told. The water splashes with his movement. Iseul has a towel wrapped around his lower half, but when he’s certain that Kuro won’t be looking back at him, the towel drops.
Iseul’s nude. Kuro’s nude. Honestly, there’s a lot that can happen right now.
Steam whorls up from the surface of the water. Iseul knows that the water is safe to bathe in, but the shock of hot still comes full force when he dips his feet into the bath and submerges himself. The water comes up to his shoulders, and his hair has been pulled back in a low ponytail to avoid getting soaked.
Iseul settles against the rocks, a distance away from Kuro, looking out into the serene blue ocean lapping at the bare beach of white sand. He smells cypress wood and sulfur instead of the sea. His skin melts into the heat, but his face feels cold.
The surface ripples as Kuro slightly moves. His back is broad with the slightest etch of a tattoo on his side, and Iseul feels as if he’s overstepping a boundary somehow, by bathing beside Kuro and seeing his pale skin flush with the heat of the water. Kuro asks, “Can I look now?”
The opaqueness of the water provides enough of a cover, that they wouldn’t be able to see much of each other. “Honestly, it’d be ideal if you stayed like this for the rest of the bath.”
Kuro huffs a quiet laugh, turning back to look at Iseul. They remain in silence, perfectly still, listening to the waves crashing over the rocky shoreline. Iseul feels comfortable soaked in the warmth of the bath, the tension in his shoulders easing, feeling stripped of more than his clothing. So much still needs to be done during their time here, but the sense of urgency that has plagued him for the last few months has been quelled, and his entire body exhales with him.
“What’s this festival that Aoi mentioned?”
“It happens every October here.” Kuro gazes into the horizon, tracing the outline of the other side of Shiratori. “Festival food stalls, wooden floats, moon viewing. I wasn’t able to attend last year, but the town really comes alive during this time.”
Iseul’s tone grows wary. “We’re really not really here to sightsee, right?”
Kuro hums in affirmation. “The festival culminates with a concert. One that you’ll be performing at.”
His words draw Iseul out of his pleasant languor. Pressure rises in his blood. “What?”
“We’ll finish at least one song while we’re here,” Kuro says, most definitely not messing with him, “and I want you to make your comeback at the festival. This isn’t on a grand scale like those concerts and awards shows we’ve both performed at, so—”
“How?” Iseul chokes up, panic twisting in his abdomen. “There isn't enough time.”
“Yes, there is.” Kuro’s voice is soft, reassuring. Iseul would feel much better if they weren't discussing this in the nude, as if a deadline wasn't looming over them, but Kuro looks at him as if he's the focus of Kuro's entire world right now. “Calm down. I know that you’re more than capable of handling this. With me by your side, you’ll be more than ready when the time comes.”
Kuro trusts him with terrifying sincerity, but the problem is, he doesn't know if he trusts Kuro or even himself. His return to the spotlight was meant to be measured, carefully planned, but before he could even reject the idea, Kuro already made the decision for him.
Iseul only hopes that he'll be ready.
* * *
Sunlight brands itself onto the back of Iseul’s neck. He keeps his hair in a low ponytail after Kotone says that it suits him, especially when he wears the robe she gives him—one with a crimson diamond-pattern design reminding him of the earring on his left ear.
Tradition dictates that visitors wear traditional dress during their stay in Shiratori, but he thinks that Kuro suits their attire much more, when he wears his robe without a shirt underneath as if he’s here for a photoshoot.
Iseul folds his arms, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his robe. The fabric is too light in the chill of the wind, but Kuro doesn’t seem to mind even though his bare chest is exposed. He follows Kuro along the promenade facing the ocean, blending with the residents of Shiratori when they all wear bright garments with flowing sleeves and wooden sandals that clack against paved stone.
Preparations for the festival are in full swing, with everyone setting up stalls draped with painted banners of the island's mascot. Children speed past him and Kuro, laughs ringing through the air and gazes wandering all around, but none look at them.
Kuro beckons him to the shore, urging him to hurry, when Kuro’s the one who’s been telling him that they have all the time in the world.
Procrastination isn’t familiar to him. Back when Iseul had promotions, if he had the chance to go sightseeing, they weren’t on his days off. It was impossible when he had practice, performances, interviews, rehearsals—surrounded by fans who were screaming, always screaming.
The pace feels slower here, somehow.
The beach is empty except for the two of them, but Iseul finds companionship in the sound of the seabirds in the air and the waves on the shore. Saltspray roses bloom from the sand dunes, painting the area with splashes of white and pink, rippling with the wind sweeping across the beach. Beyond the flowers, Shiratori’s clear seascape shines in the sunlight, free of any vessels or people drifting on its surface. The sight belongs in photographs and postcards and now, it lives on in Iseul’s memories.
Their sandals dip softly in the sand as Kuro leads the way without looking back. His gait is certain, confident, but Iseul’s steps falter as his feet brush against rough tufts of beach grass and washed-up ribbons of kelp. He probably isn’t wearing his sandals correctly, because his feet are stinging with the onset of blisters already.
Kuro slows his pace, then comes to a stop. He turns to look back. “Han Iseul?”
Either he’s going to show concern or ask Iseul to strip off his clothes to go for a swim. It’s way too cold for the latter. “Yes?”
Kuro’s phone appears from the sleeve of his robe, and he waves it nonchalantly. “Why don’t we take a picture?”
Iseul doesn’t miss a single beat. “No.”
Kuro looks deflated. “But you took one with Aera?”
“And she only uploaded it after I gave her permission. You, on the other hand, should have known better than to do something like that.”
“Oh,” Kuro says, and he does look apologetic for the most part.
His fans are prone to misunderstanding, whether his remarks are intentional or not. If their alleged relationship was never reported by the media, fans would have considered a friendship between them to be cute and endearing. Even flirtatious jokes about their interactions would surely have been accepted, fueling their homoerotic fantasies about their favorite artists. It's hypocritical of them to react this way, really.
“I’ll delete the picture if you want me to. If I promise not to upload anything, will you take one with me?”
Comments (0)
See all