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"Enter any body of water and you give yourself up to be swallowed. Even the stones know that."
"beauty is terror"
"Would you fall in love with me again, if you knew all I've done? The things I can't undo. "
Calling all lovers of poetry and prose, rhyme and reason, screen and stage. Welcome to the Quotes Round, where every prompt must cradle a quotation (or two, or three). Mix the media and let the synergy birth a new order, or keep it short and let the subtext speak its secrets to the right writer.
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there's a path but my heart does not follow
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: breaking up at the airport (bonus challenge: they don't talk about breaking up
Do Not Wants: None
Prompt:
我活该 / I reap what I sow
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: NSFW!!!, breaking it off at arrivals rather than departures, strangers to Something Else, weird junshua sex
Permission to remix: Yes
title from the Silent Boarding Gate Genius translation
***
Joshua Hong is one and a half margaritas deep when a man sits next to him at the airport bar.
“That looks good,” says the guy, shedding his denim jacket. “What is it?”
Joshua does a double-take. The man is tall and fine, his lips full, his hair disheveled and slightly too long across his forehead. A three-pronged cat keychain jingles at his hip when he leans over to flag down the bartender. The bartop rolls out like black linen behind him, empty and cool.
“This?” Joshua points to what is arguably the most popular mixed drink in the world. “It’s a margarita.”
“Ah.”
The hot guy orders a double shot of tequila and throws it back in seconds. Just straight down the gullet like a pelican. Disturbing. Compelling. The bartender rolls her eyes and disappears through a narrow door to the kitchen, leaving them alone in the sparse seating area.
Joshua watches Hot Guy pour out the entirety of his wallet. Twenty thousand won, a pack of spicy peanuts, three sticks of peppermint gum, a deck of cards, a glittery baseball keychain, five boba shop punch cards—no, six—and a miniature massage ball. His ID says Moon Junhui.
“Tough night?” Joshua sips his drink.
“Actually, I got in from Shenzhen this morning,” Junhui says. “My layover has been—” and he pauses to check his empty wrist, “—thirteen hours, with three left to go. So I’m killing time!” He looks at Joshua, his eyes dark and quick over his face. “Do you want to play cards?”
Pretty. Goofy. Utterly unselfconscious. Let it be known that Joshua Hong does not look a gift horse in the mouth.
“Yeah,” Joshua says, studying his cuticles to seem disinterested. “Sure.”
§
“Do you know Egyptian Ratscrew?” Junhui asks, shuffling the cards.
Joshua watches his fingers. Long, clumsy, overexcited. “No,” he lies. “You’ll have to teach me.”
First Junhui rattles off a story about learning magic tricks to impress his coworkers. From anyone else this anecdote would be unforgivably lame. Under no circumstances would Joshua admit something earnest to a stranger. From Junhui, who is so attractive it might as well be a felony, it’s endearing.
Joshua leans his chin on his hand. Passing stragglers, dragging luggage like a ball and chain behind them, have tapered off. They’re alone as far as the eye can see. Night has shuttered the long wall of windows.
“When you see a pair, or a sandwich, you slap the deck as quickly as you can,” Junhui explains. “Whoever slaps first gets the pile. Let’s do a practice round! You can go first.”
Obediently Joshua puts a card face-up on the pile. Four of hearts. They trade back and forth until a pair of fives appear. Joshua slaps the pile, but he’s a breath too slow. His palm slams on top of Junhui’s, their fingers overlapping. The warmth of touch is sudden and exhilarating, the slick flick of a lit candle in the dark.
Slowly Joshua pulls away. When he looks up Junhui is already watching him.
“Yeah,” Junhui says. “Like that.”
§
When Junhui laughs his shoulders shake. “Hyung. You’re awful at this.”
“I didn’t say you could call me hyung.”
“But I can, right?”
Joshua shuffles the cards instead of answering. The tops of his hands sting where Junhui slapped them raw. What he’s learned about Junhui so far is a series of contradictions: he’s soft-spoken but shameless, easily distracted but patient, beautiful but awkward about his own body. He asks thoughtful questions when Joshua mentions that he’s a professional translator. He’s a good teacher, if overly enthusiastic. Easy to talk to.
A stale breeze kicks off from an unseen air conditioner, stirring the checks they’d signed half an hour ago when the bar closed. Joshua catches a whiff of Junhui’s cologne. Cool, earthy. Teakwood. Maybe plum? Subtly he shifts closer. Their elbows brush.
“We can switch,” Junhui says, looking down at Joshua through his lashes, “if you want to play something else. Do you know two-person solitaire?”
“No.”
“Poker?”
“No, sorry.”
Junhui smiles. His facial symmetry is unreal. Joshua thinks about touching the sharp feline edge of his eyebrow. He thinks about putting his mouth on the divots of Junhui’s collarbone, the smooth pillar of his throat where a delicate silver chain glitters like rain.
“Ah, what can we do,” Junhui muses, pressing their knees together under the bartop. “We’re all out of ideas.” He laughs a little, breathy and nervous. “Unless you can think of something else to pass the time.”
Clarity comes delayed to Joshua. He thinks back on Junhui’s approach, so carefully casual. The dark assessment of his eyes. His cheeky, shy attitude. It’s no longer clear who is leading this dance. Joshua is two margaritas deep and he wants to be kissed.
“Let’s go for a walk,” Joshua says, “and see what we find.”
§
Joshua Hong is two knuckles deep in the Terminal 1 unisex bathroom when Junhui stutters out a laugh, his mouth hot as a brand on Joshua’s neck. “I’ve never,” he says, “um, done this before.”
“Oh my god.” Joshua shifts his leg where it’s propped quite enticingly on the rail. “Don’t tell me you’re, like, a virgin.”
“No! Just—” Junhui huffs. “The angle. Is it good?”
He’s kneeling on the tile in front of Joshua looking overwhelmed. Five minutes ago he’d slipped his tongue into Joshua’s mouth mid-kiss like a god damn professional, blindly locking the door behind them. He tasted like sharp silver tequila and salt. He kept lube in his carry on. Now his finger twitches inside Joshua, hesitant, his eyes wide and lost. He’s so pretty it’s kind of sickening. Joshua would get on his knees for that face.
“I dunno.” Joshua runs a hand through Junhui’s silky dark hair, bunching it up in one fist. He rolls his hips experimentally. “Could be better. You could be inside me.”
Junhui makes a low choked noise. The next kiss is desperate, a hot suckling thing that sends heat fizzing down Joshua’s spine. Shuddering, Junhui slides his finger home. It's not good yet, but it's intense. Joshua knew it would be the second he laid eyes on Junhui’s nimble hands. Junhui’s wrist twists, and he starts moving in earnest.
Fuck. Joshua cannot believe he’s having sex with a stranger in a public bathroom again. His therapist is going to have a field day with this. Jeonghan is going to have a field day with this.
“I don’t have condoms,” Junhui mumbles against his mouth.
“Neither do I. It’s fine.”
Junhui pulls back, dazed. “I can’t—” He slips his free hand over Joshua’s hip, catching in the waist of his scrunched-up jeans. “Sorry. I’m an athlete. I can’t… without protection. Sorry.”
“Oh,” Joshua says, sifting through the cold swell of disappointment in his chest. He's already, like, really naked. “Um. Okay.”
For a second they look at each other, breathing hard. Joshua has enough time for a spiky tendril of doubt to creep around his chest before Junhui kisses him again, still hot but slower, slicker. The air is thick and humid between them.
“You're so,” Junhui mumbles, adjusting. He leans forward until he’s sort of straddling Joshua on the toilet bowl. Heat from his body radiates, sun-like. “What about...?”
With a sharp shimmy he lines them up together. “Yes,” Joshua blurts out at the first press of warm, sweat-damp skin. Junhui’s hand is big enough to wrap around them both. "Like that."
It isn’t what he initially wanted, but it’s good now, dank and wretched, and Joshua trembles through the first few steady pumps. Junhui smells like sweat and muffled cologne and tacky lube. His mouth is a force of nature but his hands are sweet and steady between them.
“Yeah,” Joshua moans, pitchy the way men like, rewarding Junhui with a proper show, “uh-huh…”
§
Afterward, Joshua turns the tap as hot as it will go and soaps his hands clean. He thinks about texting Jeonghan, you will never believe where I just had funky sex. Junhui hums something, tuneless and happy, as he washes his own hands and spends an inordinate amount of time fixing his fringe. Joshua watches him through the mirror. This is a lot less austere than he expected, actually. He’s done things like this before. The guy is usually halfway out the door before his dick dries.
Junhui, though. He meets Joshua’s eyes in the mirror and smirks. An uncomfortable sense of deja vu sets in.
“Where are you flying, anyway?” Joshua asks, leaning back against the sink.
“Los Angeles! What about you?”
Joshua’s heart drops. “Me too. Los Angeles.”
“Whoa.” Junhui crumples his paper towel and lobs it basketball-style into the trash can. “What are the odds.”
Pretty high, Joshua thinks, since it’s the only departure left tonight. He imagines sitting near Junhui on the plane. Sharing an armrest. Peeking at each others’ screens, judging the rolodex of movies on display. His stomach twists unpleasantly.
Joshua doesn’t typically like to see hookups again afterward. He’s a one-and-done type of guy. Junhui has seen him in a weird, vulnerable, and frankly unhygienic state. What if he starts asking personal questions? What if he wants to follow Joshua on Instagram? He’ll see Joshua’s couch. His cat. That’s private.
Junhui is too pretty to have to confront Joshua’s train wreck of a real life, anyway. He can make this easy for them both.
“Should we walk over to the gate?” Oblivious, Junhui gathers up his backpack.
Joshua fiddles with his phone, pretending to double-check the boarding pass. “I think I’ll stop by the vending machine first. You go ahead.”
“I can wait for you,” Junhui offers.
“No, that’s okay.”
“It’s no big deal.”
Joshua shakes his head. “Junhui,” he says. “I’m gonna go. Have a safe flight.”
Junhui’s face goes blank. Expressionless. “I didn’t even get your name,” he mumbles, but Joshua is out the door before the hit can land.
§
Tom Bradley International Terminal at LAX opens to baggage claim like a circus. Joshua fights through the thick crowd, nearly tripping over a child’s backpack-scooter and narrowly dodging an unattended bag of ripe durian. He cranes his neck, eyes gritty from hours of recycled plane air, looking for the manager who claimed he would meet Joshua inside. The team is already settled, the email had said, so we’ll take you directly to the stadium.
Finally Joshua sees a sign that reads HONG. He executes a three-point turn around a pack of tourists speaking rapid French. The manager is a stout man with a friendly face, chatting with—
Chatting with Junhui, who hovers at his shoulder, showing him something on his phone. A neck pillow dangles around the curve of his throat, where a small purple hickey peekaboos out. Joshua’s breath catches.
I’m an athlete, Junhui said. Joshua is set to translate for a KBO League team in Los Angeles for the next three weeks. He didn’t think—it couldn’t be—
Junhui looks up and his smile fades. It takes every ounce of professionalism in Joshua to keep a straight face. “For Hong Jisoo?” he asks the manager, bowing slightly.
The manager beams and bows back. “Yes! Yes, let’s get going.” He takes Joshua’s roller bag in one capable hand. “Hong Jisoo-ssi, this is Moon Junhui-ssi, our starting centerfielder. He can introduce you to the rest of the team later.”
Joshua braces himself. He looks at Junhui.
“Hello,” Junhui says neutrally. There’s no recognition in his face. “Hong Jisoo-ssi.”
Joshua reflexively goes to return the greeting, but Junhui wheels around to follow the manager. Joshua’s tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth. He’s left standing silently in the shadow of a pillar, watching Junhui’s broad, even shoulders as he walks away. A sense-memory flashes through his body—the hot lurch of Junhui’s abdomen against his. The look on his face when Joshua asked him to spit in his mouth. The smooth hypnotic glide of his lips.
Joshua Hong is two minutes into this work trip and he is already so, so fucked.
Re: 我活该 / I reap what I sow
holy shit klav I don't think I'm sleeping tonight, this got me feeling like /I'm/ the one who just had an airport tryst. The places you took this prompt??!! Joshua's firm, implied rejection, the way they both are performing their personas, this short piece is packed with narration that reveals the life lived before this moment —Jun's greasy, gossamer pick-up tactics that need a collaborator and not a victim—Jun having lube in his carry-on but abstains from sex without a condom for his career—Joshua's iron wall of privacy coming done after the sex (The way every line could be a data point for psychoanalysis!! klav!)—Joshua cannot believe he’s having sex with a stranger in a public bathroom again (again?? Joshua Hung? Again?!)—
And the playfulness in the plot itself, the way ideas and possibilities were flashed like a hand of cards, then denied in way that revealed even more possibilities. And an ending it like that where the conflict is at its imagined height, waiting to boil over. design of a maestro, let me kiss your feet
Thank you so much for writing this, I very much was taken for a ride (a flight?), and at the same time left awed at the immensity of how much lore you delivered with lightness and wit. happy holidays klav!!
Re: 我活该 / I reap what I sow
i would read like. 50 billion words of this wretched extended self-inflicted stilted fwbs to lovers fic, but this feels like you've given us the entire thing down to the sordid sluttery that joshy hong gets up to. obsessed
Re: 我活该 / I reap what I sow
Joshua: this guy is a freak. I need him
LOVE this jun omg. his earnest nervousness and inexperience, initiating card games as a pick-up so obscure that joshua (who is already trying to fuck him) doesn’t even realise it at first. him pouring out his entire wallet including ID with full legal name within seconds of meeting as opposed to joshua who won’t even give his first name to a guy who *checks notes* he just asked to spit in his mouth. Incredible
And this fucked up lil josh hong omg… intimacy issues for daysss and he judges that jun will be easy prey for a little no-consequences tryst, but the slow realisation that jun is not prey in this interaction and is capable of putting on a front even more impenetrable than joshua’s. Smoking duck gif enjoy those consequences buddy, reap what you sowed
So obsessed with how many layers you’ve managed to give in a relatively short word count, absolutely killed me dead, thank u
Re: 我活该 / I reap what I sow
Re: 我活该 / I reap what I sow
Re: 我活该 / I reap what I sow