CHAPTER 26
Idrank too much soju.
I stopped four hours ago at dinner, but my head still isn’t clear. I wouldn’t say I’m drunk, but Carey and I were being way too bold in the end.
It took some time, but by sunset things had settled down.
My father stayed on the couch scrolling through his phone, close enough to say he was there but still on the sidelines.
My mother stopped prying, brought out the cards, and it actually started to feel like Christmas.
The Jeon family and adoptees, drunk in the basement, bickering over card games while Trot plays in the background.
I laugh to myself and open the closet of my childhood bedroom, the internal light flicking on and dimly illuminating the otherwise dark room. I look at my open duffle on the floor, then strip down to only my underwear and kick my discarded clothes into a pile by my bag.
This part of the holiday isn’t normal, though.
Every other Christmas night since Eden started spending the holidays with us when we were sixteen, I’ve slept in the basement.
All of them bar one. For the seven nights between Christmas and New Years we camp out down there.
The rest of the family comes and goes, but it's our domain.
Our little kingdom. One week every year where we drink and eat to excess before turning over the calendar.
Originally, it wasn’t so special.
Originally I didn’t need to exercise self control.
But that was before I almost got myself locked up.
That was before I almost destroyed my life completely.
Looking around the mostly empty wardrobe, my eyes settle on the bare coat hanger where my Letterman jacket usually hangs. I shake my head, knowing Jintae took it. No one else would have touched it. The little shit has his own too. He played Varsity soccer. He’s always been more athletic than me.
"At least he’ll be warm,” I mumble to myself, remembering how much it swallowed him whenever he’d try it on. Just like Carey in his brother’s plaid parka.
My hand absentmindedly finds my dick just at the thought of him, then I hear movement in the hallway and I tear it away. And that, right there, is why I'm sleeping up here.
I hear my phone vibrate on my bed. It’s Carey. We said goodnight less than five minutes ago.
I pick up my phone ready to type out; The sooner you go to sleep the sooner you can see me again. But he’s not being needy, he’s being a fucking crazy person.
Sunshine: Knock knock.
My heart jumps into my throat.
I stare at the door handle. He can’t be serious. Then it starts to turn.
It pushes open, and I dash to catch it before it slams against the wall.
Moving out of the darkness of the hall, Carey slumps against the door frame with his hands behind his back. His chest is bare, and the pajama pants my mother bought him are flippantly low on his hips.
“What the fuck, Carey?” I whisper, my eyes glancing over his shoulder to my parents bedroom door. There’s light coming from beneath it, but it’s faint. Maybe a bedside lamp.
“What are you so worried about?” he asks without a care in the world.
“This isn’t funny.”
“It’s not meant to be.”
“Well, whatever it is, it can wait till tomorrow.”
“It can’t actually.” He side-steps away from my hand trying to nudge him back so I can close the door on him, and walks inside my room.
My high school self could never.
I close the door, but don’t let it latch. “We already said goodnight.”
“True,” he says with his hands still behind his back as he takes a casual look around. “But then I remembered I didn’t give you your Christmas present.”
“You said you didn’t get me anything.”
“I said there was nothing under the tree.”
“I don’t want anything.”
“That’s not up to you.”
“Carey, please.”
He looks to the open closet, the single bed, and back to me. “I’m not leaving until I give it to you.”
“Why are you choosing right now to be stubborn?”
He steps towards me. “Because Christmas gifts need to be given on Christmas day, otherwise they don’t count.”
“You’re making stuff up.”
He takes another step. “Am I?”
His bare chest is broad and way too inviting with the closet light cast across it. “You’re already half naked. What more do you want me to see?”
His smile flashes, and he knows I’m beat.
“Hurry up. The longer you stand there, the higher the chance my mother gets up to pee.”
His head cocks to the side. “Do you find it annoying having to wait for something you already know you’re gonna get?”
“This isn’t the time, Carey.”
He shuffles closer. “Isn’t it?”
“I know what you’re doing.”
“And what’s that?”
“You’ve already broken me… I’m already yours.”
I watch him bite the tip of his tongue as he nods with the most smug grin I’ve ever seen plastered on his face. “You know what I like to hear.”
“I like seeing you happy.”
“Then shut up and accept my gift.”
Just like the first time he spoke down to me, I feel my body flush with endorphins.
I swallow, and nod.
He smirks, “Good boy,” and I almost pass out.
Carey takes a small step back and hands me a gaudy Christmas bag, the kind you get at the dollar store. “I can see why you didn’t put this under the tree.”
He reaches for it. “I can take it back.”
I snatch it away. “Don’t be a shit.”
“Why would I stop when you love it so much?” My gaze drops to his stomach. He’s doing that thing he does where he drags his hand over it, his fingers absentmindedly drawing circles around his navel. “I’m not your present.”
“But what if you’re all that I want?”
“Just look in the damn bag, old man.”
My hand reaches inside but my eyes are still distracted by the shadows on his skin, then I feel something soft and plush. Pulling the handles apart I see a pair of slippers. But not just any slippers, the light blue ones from my Halmae. The ones she hand embroidered. The ones I threw away.
I run my fingers along the small golden-thread letters arching over the top of each:
?? ?? ?? ???? ??? ? ??? ?? ????
My life is too precious to live at a glance in the lives of others.
“W-where did you?”
“I took them out of the dumpster the day you threw them out.”
I drop them back into the bag. “Why would you do that?”
“Are you mad?”
“No I’m just…” I turn away from him, and he follows.
“Just what?”
“I don’t know.” It’s not a total lie. It’s just that apart from when my Halmae gave me the slippers in the first place, I’m not sure I’ve ever been so truly seen.
There’s no way Carey knows what the writing says, but even back then he saw straight through my bullshit and right to how important they were to me.
He strokes my back. “They were a bitch to get clean.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Yes I did.” There’s a calm insistence in his voice that makes me feel more protected than I have ever known.
And maybe that's been the problem all along.
I was only ever in control by default, and now, with Carey, I don't have to pretend.
I finally have someone strong and persistent enough to take care of me.
“You’re such a brat.”
Carey’s fingers trace lower down the curve of my spine, then he kisses my shoulder. “You’re shaking.”
“That’s because ever since we first fucked I haven’t had to keep my hands to myself.
Now you’re in my old room, with my parents across the hall, and you just gave me the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever…
” I taper off into nothingness, and bow my head because I’m so fucking overwhelmed.
“You can’t be in here,” I tell him, my voice as thin as it’s ever been.
Carey's body presses against my arm and his hand wraps around my waist from behind.
“That’s not fair.”
His nails drag through the hairs below my belly button.
“I cant… Not with them right there.”
“You worry too much.”
“What if it was your parents?”
“I wouldn’t care.” I turn my head to look at him. “I give them as much thought as they give me. You should try it. You don’t give respect to anyone else who doesn’t give it to you first, your parents should be no different.”
He’s not wrong, but no matter how much sense it makes; “It’s not that easy.”
Carey’s other hand traces from inside my elbow and down my forearm and wrist before taking the gift bag from me. “I just wanna see you wear your slippers.”
He unravels himself and steps in front of me to take out the slippers and drop them at my feet—the sound loud enough to ricochet across the hall.
My heart stops.
My fingers twitch.
He inches closer.
I stand my ground, but I’m not ready for his hand, his touch. It comes up slow and gentle, his thumb just grazing the line of my jaw.
I want him to leave but I need him to stay.
I need to see this through.
I need to know his next move.
I need him to force me so far out of my comfort zone that there’s no coming back.
I need him to make me strong.
“Put them on,” he says.
I shake my head, and he smiles like a wolf.
“Be a good boy for me now. You wouldn’t want me to have to raise my voice.”
My whole body quivers because, him—this; the way he plays me… It’s everything I’ll ever need.
Carey squats down in front of me, his hands reaching out to lightly ghost from the back of my ankles to my calves. Then, looking up at me with eyes so full of want and power, he says, “Merry Christmas, Oppa.”
“Such a fucking brat.”
“You’re the one who’s hard,” he whispers, and it’s all over.
Carey stands, his mouth crashing into mine; biting, then sucking, then soft pecks.
There’s nothing else. Just him, bare skin, and the subtle taste of soju still on his breath. There’s no trepidations, no fucks given about my parents across the hall. I might not be ready to tell them, but I refuse to hold myself back from, potentially, the best thing to have ever happened to me.
It was quick, but right is right. It doesn’t take years to know when you’ve found your person.
Your protector.
Your other half.
The one you’re willing to toss everything aside for.
I don’t want to be on the sidelines of someone else’s story.
I don’t want to live someone else’s life.
It only took one month with Carey Novak—and a gentle reminder from my Halmae—for me to realize that truth…