cigarettes after sex

heavenly

Jaehyun loved their trips to Seoul. Johnny's parents had a lovely house on the Soul's border to Goyang, Jaehyun and Johnny came there every summer. Sometimes Jaehyun would suffer through the whole year hoping to find himself lazing around the house, while Johnny's parents played board games, Jaehyun cooked, but came over every round when it was his turn.

This time was not much different, the elder couple was playing scrabble when they manifested in the entrance hall, Johnny's mother shot up with almost supernatural agility, hastened to embrace first Jaehyun, then Johnny. His dad was a touch slower, didn't dole out hugs, just nodded, put his hand through Jaehyun's arm, and escorted him to the couch, enjoying the attention his action drew to them. Johnny carried the bags upstairs. Jaehyun played one round of scrabble with his parents.
When Johnny collapsed on the bed, now just a test run, he was imagining everything that would and have been done on it. In this instant of excitement, everything could thrill him, the immaculate white sheets, the rustle of blankets, the sloping triangle of light projected by the high window, the dust mingling with the particles of light. He looked forward to so many things, so many moments alone, alone with Jaehyun and alone without him. To intimacy without the touch of their lips, to sex, to walking around topless, to shower together, to playing cards, to sleeping on the same bed because there was just one. He derived happiness just from thinking of them, from visualizing, from imagination. To live through them would be absolute heaven. Ecstasy, total explosion of all senses all-together, death, rebirth, total bliss, endless feeling of joy, intoxicating, addicting and so so thrilling.

When he came down they played another round of scrabble, Johnny would atone for the waisted moments of intimacy by clasping Jaehun's thigh with his own, with the brush of their elbows, the physical closeness all together. He would whisper words he knew would trigger a funny reaction from his father, make him bristle. Jaehyun would obey, the father would bristle. Everyone would laugh.
"Bruh is never a real word" Johnny would encourage him to look it up in thesaurus, thesaurus would spill it out under the definition of "The rhesus monkey". More laughter.
In the evening they would go out, amble through the gloomy streets swallowed by the all-pervasive, sweeping darkness.
Johnny would squirrel these moments, stash them away, save them for later, when he'd lay on his bed in Canada, not feeling anything. They would visit the french cafè which owner spoke to them in broken french because he had been there once. They'd imagine the small crook was their own little France. Ironically, these would be the only moments the knowledge of this language would come in handy. They would drink,  make out in a dark valley, with kisses that never landed on each other's lips, look for a pub, drink more, then order a coffee, stay in the city until the sunrise, sometimes spending whole days outside like this, without sleep. Without rest. Heaven. Johnny could do this non-stop.
When they returned, there'd always be a feast-like meal waiting for them, then jh would apologize and promise to cook next time. Johnny's parents would never object. They didn't need anyone but they didn't mind the company, Johnny's mother always knew the right words to say, Johnny's father did accurate impersonations of politicians. Sometimes they'd just watch television whole day, intent on some series they never saw before, intent as though they were familiar with the plot, commenting on what would happen with passion and vigor of some deeply devoted film critic or a lifelong fan. Sometimes Johnny's dad would borrow a cd, Johnny would make chilli con carne and buy nachos. Noche mexicana, his mother would call it.
On other days, Johnny would entrench himself with his father in the studio and his mother would take Jaehyun out shopping. They would buy funny shirts and make Johnny wear them. Sometimes the prints would be so funny, Johnny would keep them, flaunting them in the university. If somebody asked, he'd tell the story.
At night he would trace Jaehyun's tatoos, Jaehyun would awake from the touch, sheets rustling as he looked up, the look in his eyes always suggestive, always affectionate, always compelling and Johnny would ask if he wanted another one. Then they'd look up designs. Jaehyun would try persuading him to have one too, j would never give in, but would hold his hand whatsoever.  jh was never disturbed by the pain but would let him hold him, just because his body ached for his touch, longed and begged for it, and this was just another excuse to satisfy his body's demands.
Johnny's mother would always like the result, and lead Jaehyun by the hand to show the results to her husband. They'd both stare at it in awe, even reproach Johnny for not having one too. They days would pass in a timeless loop so they'd not know the beginning and end of it. They'd loose themselves in its eternity, like in an endless dream.
Why couldn't life consist of such moments only? Jaehyun dreaded coming back. On one night he took the car and drove it to the spot by the river they used to go to in the evenings, parked it somewhere not obstructing the road, got out and breathed. His suicide attempt was never planned, at least he never deliberately planned to do it. It was a snap decision. He'd rather die happy than let the sickness get hold of him and he knew it would get hold of him once the plane crossed the border to Canada.
You know the rest.