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What do you call something that keeps happening when it was never supposed to?
Part I – The Beginning
They met in the back of someone else’s party.
Fuma had been half-drunk, half-bored, leaning against the fence in the backyard, watching the night slip by in fragments, muffled bass from the speakers inside, someone’s laughter rising too high, fairy lights flickering across empty lawn chairs. It was the kind of party where nobody noticed if you disappeared for a while, and Fuma had taken full advantage of that.
Euijoo showed up like a question—ripped jeans, sharp shoulders, drink in hand, and a scowl that said don’t talk to me while standing exactly where someone would. His drink looked untouched, condensation dripping lazily down the side of the cup.
"You're either lost or allergic to people," Fuma said without looking directly at him.
"Maybe both," Euijoo replied.
The answer made Fuma smirk, just a small curve of the mouth, like he hadn’t expected honesty but didn’t mind finding it. He tilted his head slightly, as if that tiny shift of attention meant you can stay.
Euijoo didn’t smile back. But he didn’t leave either.
They stood there for a while, side by side, not quite close but not far enough to be strangers anymore. The backyard buzzed quietly behind them, soft voices, the clink of bottles, the hum of lights overhead. Neither of them spoke. It wasn’t awkward. It was something else. Charged. Suspended.
Eventually, Fuma turned toward him. Euijoo met his eyes.
They kissed.
No one moved first, they just leaned into each other at the same time, like gravity had decided for them. It wasn’t urgent. It wasn’t hungry. Just slow and sure, the kind of kiss that says this might mean nothing, and also, you’ll remember this anyway.
When they broke apart, Fuma was the one to speak.
“You always kiss strangers like that?”
Euijoo raised an eyebrow. “You don’t feel like a stranger.”
Fuma blinked. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and offered it without a word.
Euijoo hesitated, then took it. Typed in his number. No name, just the number. Then handed it back.
They didn’t go back inside. They didn’t leave together. No grand goodbye, no promises.
But they left with something.
That was the first time.
The second time, they kissed again—this time at Fuma’s front door. The air was colder, and Euijoo had his hands buried deep in his jacket pockets. The kiss was shorter, but it lingered. Euijoo pulled away before either of them could say anything and walked off down the steps.
The third time, they stayed in the car. Talked for hours. Music playing low from the speakers, headlights off. They didn’t touch, but the closeness felt like something alive. Fuma wanted to reach out. Euijoo looked like he wanted to disappear.
There was no grand declaration. Just casual shrugs, lazy “you up?” texts, and a mutual understanding:
This means nothing.
It should’ve ended there.
But it didn’t.
They kept coming back.
Because whatever it was, It had already started, and neither of them knew how to stop it.
Part II – What Are We
The room still smelled like sweat and faded cologne.
Fuma lay half-covered by the thin blanket, shirtless, a fading bruise on his collarbone courtesy of Euijoo’s mouth the night before. The TV flickered soundlessly in the background, casting soft blue light over the mess of limbs and empty beer cans.
Euijoo sat on the floor, hoodie half-zipped, thumb absently brushing the edge of an old scar on his wrist. His eyes stayed on the floor, like it was safer than looking at Fuma.
Neither of them spoke for a while. It was always like this—loud and raw in the dark, quiet and awkward in the light.
Fuma sat up, rubbing a hand through his hair. "You gonna leave without saying anything again?"
Euijoo shrugged. "Wasn't planning on staying for breakfast."
"You never do."
A beat passed.
"Why do you keep coming back, then?" Fuma asked, tone too casual to be innocent.
Euijoo didn’t answer. Just kept his gaze fixed downward, like the truth might be hiding in the floorboards.
Fuma leaned back against the headboard. "You ever think about what we are?"
That did it.
Euijoo looked up, sharp and tense. "Why would you ask that?"
Fuma’s laugh was soft and bitter. "I don’t know. Thought maybe we’re old enough to stop pretending this is just about getting off."
"We are getting off, aren’t we?" Euijoo said, a little too quickly. "No one’s forcing you to call me at 2 AM"
"You call me too," Fuma muttered. "You always do when you can't sleep."
Silence. Something shifted.
Euijoo stood up, took a step forward. "Don’t do this, Fuma."
Fuma didn’t back off. “Why not? Scared I’ll say something real?”
And just like that, Euijoo was on him.
The kiss was messy, angry, full of teeth and breath and fingers that couldn’t decide whether to grab or shove. Fuma didn’t stop him—he pulled him in harder, rolled him down onto the bed, mouths locked like they were trying to tear the silence apart.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. They didn’t need that.
They needed release. Frustration. Proof.
Shirts yanked up, jeans halfway down. Hands rough, movements desperate. The kind of fucking that said everything they wouldn’t let themselves speak out loud—I hate you, I want you, don’t leave me.
The mattress creaked beneath them, headboard knocking faintly against the wall, breathless curses spilling between every thrust and gasp. Fuma gripped his waist like he was trying to anchor himself to something real. Euijoo bit down on his shoulder to keep from moaning too loud.
They fucked like they were trying to forget, like maybe if they burned it all out of themselves, the feelings wouldn’t be there in the morning.
When it was over, they didn’t touch.
Not right away.
Fuma laid back, chest heaving, staring at the ceiling like it had answers. Euijoo sat at the edge of the bed, head bowed, hair clinging to his forehead with sweat.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
