I Don't Know Why
Somehow, after managing to relieve it once, things were a bit more bearable.
I knew about the morning erections, but they weren't as uncontrollable as before. If I just distracted myself, they would settle down on their own.
A man's body was as convenient as I'd imagined, yet it was also more bothersome than expected. Just deciding on its own and hardening in unexpected situations was enough to make it an irritating presence. Even without thinking about anything in particular, if I happened to catch sight of something like that, blood would rush there as if by pure instinct.
I hadn't planned to look into it in detail, but as time dragged on and the frustration of not knowing when we could switch back grew heavier, I found myself searching things up. Who knew how many more days this would last? Better to learn something so I wouldn't keep looking so uncomfortable.
"This is hard."
A body that got excited just from looking at lewd stuff. Were men just beasts in heat? And yet there was a certain calmness to it as well. I felt like I could be quieter than usual. It seemed only the lower half got excited on its own, like a part that had been granted autonomous authority.
Then again, there were women who went crazy over men too, so it was hard to pin this entirely on being male. It probably just depended on how strong the curiosity that hit in youth happened to be.
"What am I even doing..."
In a busy stretch when I should have been working on my portfolio, here I was wasting time searching this kind of garbage. Suddenly I felt like an idiot. About a week of time that had vanished in a flash. If anyone asked what I'd accomplished, I realized the answer was zero progress.
Thinking back on the most recent days: the day before yesterday I'd half-heartedly jerked off and drunk, and yesterday Song Hamin had suddenly started bleeding, so I'd poured the entire day into dealing with that. When I was writing, time had seemed to crawl, but now whole days felt like they were being wasted in an instant.
"Hey, Song."
"What is it this time."
Here he comes to bother me again, this bastard.
"Your stomach still hurt?"
"...Nah. It only hurt a little yesterday and then stopped."
"Good. So why'd you come?"
When I asked bluntly, Song Hamin fidgeted and let out an awkward laugh. Realizing that my own face could make an expression like that left me with a strange feeling. It was definitely me, yet it felt like a stranger. Facing my own face in a form that wasn't a mirror was both novel and deeply uncanny. Maybe my brain was simply refusing to process something so unrealistic.
"We've been stuck inside again these past few days. Want to go out for a bit?"
"It's only been three days."
"Doesn't it get old, ordering delivery and never leaving the house for three whole days?"
Even when I said it like it was ridiculous, this was just my everyday life. I didn't need to eat much, and I had no particular craving for menus, so ordering something rough and eating the same thing for two days was fine by me. That was why I had no muscle, but since I planned to live by writing, I never considered it important.
"Fine. If I go out this time like you want, then next time when I say we should go out, you'll come. Deal?"
"Yeah, okay."
The third rule we'd set: outings together. If we took turns listening, then after I went out once, I could just keep my mouth shut next time and Song Hamin would have nothing to say.
"So where are we going?"
"Thinking of buying a game or something. Maybe hit the mart."
"A game...? You said you couldn't stand playing games before."
"Just the single-player kind."
I remembered how the guy who had insisted on using the room except when sleeping for games would crawl out to the living room without ever actually playing once he went in. I nodded, picturing him sitting blankly on the sofa staring at the TV.
"Whatever."
I was just as stuck inside after the body swap, but I had no intention of getting in the way of him finding a hobby like that.
"Just don't go out looking like that."
"Uh, yeah. Okay."
The real problem was going out at all. Even so, the idea of my face walking around looking like a mess still bothered me. The size was so large it was hard not to stand out, and the thought of running into someone I knew while looking like a complete wreck was just too much. Call it paranoia if you want—it was a habit I'd carried for a long time.
"Wear this, and this."
"Give me some pants. A skirt is too much."
"I'm in a skirt mood today."
"What the hell is a 'skirt mood'?"
He made a face like he couldn't understand, but some days you just want to wear something specific.
"I'm not wearing a skirt, you idiot. We're only going out for a bit—pants are fine!"
The problem was that this body was no longer Song Haneul's, and Song Hamin, who currently occupied it, was refusing stubbornly. Even if I felt like wearing something, I couldn't; I was stuck in the position of having to dress someone else.
"Just wear what I give you."
"No. You've got jeans."
The way he narrowed his eyes and tilted his head was absurd. He even wore an expression that said he knew everything.
"Who doesn't own jeans? What do you want to wear?"
"A plain white tee and jeans is fine."
"Going for plain, huh."
"I've never wanted to look flashy."
I folded the clothes I'd tossed over and roughly threw him the ones he wanted.
"Happy?"
"Yeah. But what's with this shirt...? Should I just throw on the one I picked before?"
"No. Wear that."
"It's ridiculously tight. Can you see?"
The fabric clung tightly. Thanks to the elasticity, even with breasts, the outline of the lower ribs and flesh showed through. He complained about how stifling it felt, but that was exactly the point.
"The one you picked makes a person look puffy."
"Who cares if it looks puffy? We're just going to buy a game."
He clutched his head like he was getting dizzy, and I could only shake mine.
"You have to care about these little things if you want a person to look put-together. Look at you. Always chasing 'plain,' so you just look plain. How are you ever going to get a girlfriend like that?"
"Ha. I'm just busy, okay? I can get a girlfriend whenever I want."
"Oh, is that so? I bet I could pick someone up way faster with your body."
"Bullshit."
Song Hamin snapped and cursed, but did he even know how much of a mess he'd been walking around as?
"How about this: if you look at yourself after I've dressed you up and think it looks decent, you stay out of coordinating from now on."
"Hey, anyone looks better when they're dressed up. Even a rock can become a pet rock if you polish it."
"You're the one talking bullshit."
Watching him spout that nonsense so fluently left me speechless. I normally didn't want to use my own products on Song Hamin's body, but given the situation, I figured I had to. A quick pass of wax through the hair and a light touch of cosmetics, and the whole look came together fast. Checking the mirror, I thought it turned out pretty well and felt a little smug for no reason.
"See?"
"It's my face. Why are you the one getting smug?"
"Oh, shut up. Ha, I should've taken a picture. Wait—no, you've got selfies, right? Show me."
Song Hamin hesitated and fumbled, but he must have thought it looked decent enough because he tilted his head. When he casually held out the gallery and a photo flipped past, I burst out laughing. I couldn't hold it in the second I saw it.
"What is that fatal expression? Looking in the mirror and taking that is hilarious."
"Hey! Hey! Give it back! I said give it back!"
Song Hamin's body was so weak that even using both arms, one casual flick of mine stopped him cold.
"Want me to take body profile shots too?"
"No."
"Ugh. Fine, here. Look at that face and this face. Even a little styling makes it look put-together. You should apologize to your own body."
"Fucking bitch."
The words spat out like spit made me freeze for a second.
"'Fucking bitch' is a bit much."
"Did I ask you to dress me up? I said let's go buy a game."
The irritation rising in his voice left me with nothing to say. I had forced something he never asked for, and then stolen his phone on top of it—maybe that was why he was this angry. I'd shown him that dressing up looked good, and still got that reaction, which left me a little sour.
Wasn't that photo taken because he wanted to look handsome? Or because he thought he already did? That would mean he had at least some interest in looking good. I'd offered to teach him the method if he didn't know it, but maybe he just didn't get it. All sorts of thoughts crossed my mind, but no proper words came.
"Fine."
I swallowed the sudden heat and let out a breath. The moment I got irritated here, it was already decided which of us was in the wrong.
We stepped into a store that sold game consoles and games. All kinds of machines were scattered everywhere, but Song Hamin only gave them a sidelong glance before heading straight for the games.
"What've they got?"
I asked casually, but got no answer. The irritation was still hanging on, apparently. Maybe anger just didn't fade that easily.
"What are you buying?"
The sullen face that looked ready to huff stayed silent. He snatched up two games in a rush and swiped his card before I could say anything more.
"Hey, Song Ha...neul."
"……."
"Song Haneul."
"……."
"You. I'm talking to you."
Outside, it felt right to at least call the name of the body, so I used the awkward name. The sensation of using my own name to address someone else wasn't pleasant. We weren't even namesakes.
"How long are you going to ignore me? Is it because I kept laughing earlier? Hey, I'm sorry. I won't laugh next time. Want me to show you my selfies too?"
Ugh. Maybe I teased him too much.
"I said I'm sorry..."
I muttered the words, but Song Hamin's steps just kept striding farther away. I could catch up easily enough, but he still looked a little distant.
Being the butt of the joke didn't matter. I already knew I couldn't dress myself well.
Looking in the bathroom mirror and thinking, Don't I look pretty decent? before taking the photo was true enough. Even if a friend had seen it, it would've been fair game for teasing.
The real problem was that when Song Haneul dressed up my face, I thought it looked good—and at the same time, I felt some kind of wall I couldn't name. Maybe it was the difference in strength. I still didn't really understand. But I didn't want to understand either.
I don't know why, but it just pisses me off. My nerves feel sharper for no reason, and that makes it even weirder.
"Ugh."
Too many things had changed all at once. That was the worst part.