Knots in the Shoulder
Saturday night, ten o'clock. Having finished the barbecue prep, I sat on the sofa. The galbi was marinating, the vegetables were washed, trimmed, and tucked away in the fridge, and the charcoal was set out on the balcony. Everything was ready for tomorrow. I turned on the TV and opened a streaming app. I stared at the screen, debating what to watch, but ended up pressing nothing. With only the recommendation list glowing on the screen, I sank deep into the cushions and spaced out.
Ha-eun's expression when I ran into her on my way back from grocery shopping came to mind. The way her eyes had lingered on the red marks the grocery bag straps had left on my fingers as she snatched the bags away. That fleeting moment when she grew serious before returning to her usual expressionless self. It felt like I had caught a brief, genuine glimpse of the real her.
The doorbell rang. Short and firm. Once. A pause of exactly one second, then once more. A decisive, unhesitating press. It was Ha-eun. Chae-won always knocked—two light raps with her knuckles. Seo-jin rang the bell, but in a long, gentle drawl. Da-in buzzed like crazy, pressing it repeatedly. Ha-eun's ring was short and resolute. If the door didn't open after the first ring, she pressed it once more. She never rang a third time. If it still didn't open, she simply turned back. It was funny, and a little absurd, that I could actually distinguish them just by how they rang the bell. I opened the door.
Ha-eun stood there. She wasn't in her usual workout gear. Instead, she wore an oversized white T-shirt and black shorts. Her hair was down, freed from its usual ponytail, her dark locks cascading past her shoulders. She was barefoot in slippers. But something was different from usual. Her right hand was clutching her left shoulder, her face slightly twisted in discomfort.
"Hey."
"Yes?"
"My shoulders are stiff." Straight to the point.
"...Your shoulders?"
"I think I overdid it with my workout today. My traps are like rocks, and I can't loosen them up myself."
Ha-eun peered past me into the apartment. The sofa. The TV glowing with the streaming menu. Confirming I was alone, she spoke. "Give me a massage." It was a command, not a request. Ha-eun didn't know how to ask for favors. Everything was an order. 'Make me food.' 'Grill some chicken breast for tomorrow too.' And now, 'Give me a massage.'
"I don't know how to massage."
"Your hands are big."
"Well, yes, but—"
"I can come in, right?" It wasn't a question; it was a statement of intent. She was already slipping off her slippers and stepping inside.
"...Sure." The door closed.
Just the two of us in the living room. Ha-eun sat down in the very space where, just ten minutes ago, I had been mindlessly flipping through channels alone. The density of the air shifted. She sat on the sofa, turning her back to me. She swept her hair over her shoulders, exposing the back of her neck. Her neck was slender, and the line of her trapezius muscles, running from her shoulders to her neck, was sharply defined. Ha-eun was an athlete. She had muscle. But it was a woman's muscle—firm yet supple. Her shoulder line was sharp, her back straight. The collar of her white T-shirt had slipped slightly to one side, revealing her collarbone and shoulder blade. "Hurry up."
I stood behind the sofa and placed my hands on her shoulders. They were rock-hard. The knots were incredibly tight, her entire trapezius muscle completely rigid. She must have pushed herself far too hard today. No, it wasn't just today; it was cumulative. Someone who works out every day needs to loosen their muscles daily. But she had always been trying to untangle her own knots. Always. "Does it hurt?"
"Of course it does."
I pressed my thumbs into her traps. Slowly, following the grain of the muscle from top to bottom. Ha-eun's shoulders flinched.
"Harder. It won't loosen up with that little pressure."
"Harder?"
"If I tell you to press harder, just do it."
I applied more pressure, leaning my body weight into my thumbs as I kneaded down her traps. The rock-hard muscles slowly began to yield. I could feel it at the tips of my fingers—the sensation of a single muscle fiber minutely giving way, a vibration that traveled all the way up to my palms. Ha-eun let out a sound. "Mnh..." A soft groan, rising from deep within her throat. She quickly clamped her mouth shut, holding it in. I kept going.
I moved from her traps to the inner edge of her shoulder blades—the rhomboid area. It was knotted here too. I kneaded in circular motions with my thumbs. Pressing my fingers deep along the inside of her scapula, I felt a hard, stubborn lump. I pressed down, slowly working to dissolve it. "Haa..." Ha-eun exhaled. A long, slow breath, releasing the air she had been holding in. I consciously focused on where my hands were. Her shoulders. Her upper back. I didn't let them drift any lower. This was a massage. A pure, simple massage. Her shoulders were stiff, so I was loosening them. Nothing more, nothing less. Yet, the body heat radiating through her white T-shirt was scorching. It was the heat of an athlete—high and intense, the warmth of the muscles beneath her skin transferring directly to my hands. The fabric was thin. Too thin. It felt as if my palms were touching her bare skin directly, with barely any barrier between us.
"The right side. The right is worse," Ha-eun instructed. I shifted to her right trapezius. It really was bad. I could feel the individual knotted fibers beneath my fingertips. Catching one thick strand with my thumb, I pressed and slid it downward. "Ah—" A sound escaped her lips. It was louder this time. Ha-eun quickly covered her mouth with her hand. "...Are you okay?"
"Don't talk to me. Focus." I couldn't tell if she meant for me to focus or if she was trying to focus herself. I kept going.
I moved up from her shoulders to the side of her neck, targeting the muscles alongside her cervical spine. As I pressed my thumbs there, her head naturally tilted to the side. The tilt exposed the long, elegant curve of her neck. Beneath her pale skin, the faint lines of her muscles were visible. Her jugular pulsed. Her heartbeat was fast. Was it from her workout? Or was it— "There... that's good." Ha-eun's voice had changed. It wasn't her usual short, sharp, commanding tone, but something slow and languid. She was letting go of her strength. She was letting down her guard. It was the first time I had ever heard her make such a sound. Even on that night, Ha-eun had been strong. Dominant. 'Don't move.' 'Did I give you permission?' A voice of absolute control. But her voice now was different. It was the voice of someone relinquishing control.
My thumbs pressed into the hollow at the base of her skull. "Ugh..." Ha-eun dropped her head forward. Her hands gripped her knees, her back arching into a curve. She was holding it in. Holding back her groans. I didn't stop. I slid my hands down from the back of her neck to her shoulders again. Grasping both shoulders at once, I kneaded them slowly, establishing a rhythm. Press, release, press, release. It felt surreal that I was touching her body in such intimate detail. Learning that one of her shoulder blades protruded slightly more than the other. That there was a tiny, scar-like mark on the upper part of her right trap. That a fine, soft down grew right down the center of her nape. All these details were being engraved into my palms.
"Haa..." Ha-eun let out a long sigh. Her back leaned slightly backward. Toward me. She was so close that the back of her head almost brushed against my stomach. Then, her hand came up. It rested on top of mine. Her hand over my hand, which was still resting on her shoulder. I froze. "..." Her hand held mine against her shoulder. She didn't look back. She kept staring straight ahead. But her hand remained firmly over mine.
"Hey."
"...Yes."
"Your hands are shaking." My hands were shaking. I hadn't even realized it myself. At some point while kneading her shoulders, my hands had started to tremble.
"Are you nervous?"
"No." It was a lie.
Still holding my hand, Ha-eun turned around. She tilted her head back to look up at me. Her sitting on the sofa, and me standing behind her—our eyes met from below to above. Her eyes locked onto mine. They were sharp eyes, but right now, that sharpness was blunted. Perhaps her tension had melted away along with the knots in her muscles. Even the usual mocking curve of her lips was gone. She was just looking at me. With honest eyes. It was the first time I had ever seen her look at me like this.
"...What is this?" Ha-eun spoke first. The question didn't seem directed at me, but rather at herself. What is this atmosphere? What is this situation? What am I doing? I pulled my hands away. From her shoulders, and from her grasp. "I think they're all loosened up now."
"...Yeah."
Ha-eun turned back around. She rolled her shoulders. Left, right, up, down. A few more times. She repeated these small movements to check her condition. It was a professional habit, the instinct of a trainer who constantly monitored her own body. "They're loose. You have good hands," she said calmly. Her usual tone had returned—short and dry. But she couldn't take back that "Mnh..." from earlier. Nor the "There... that's good." Nor the "Haa..." I had already heard the sounds she made, the voice that slipped out when she let go of her strength.
Ha-eun stood up from the sofa. She pulled up the collar of her white T-shirt, which had slipped down. She did it naturally, as if nothing had happened. But I knew the gesture was conscious. Pulling up a collar that had been draped low meant she was fully aware that her shoulder had been exposed. Standing in the middle of the living room, she rolled her shoulders left and right. Twice, briefly. It looked like she was checking her muscles again, but it felt more like she was catching her breath. Like an athlete doing cool-down breathing after a workout. I watched her. Her heading straight for the front door instead of sitting back down on the sofa was also intentional. It was a defensive posture, instinctively blocking any chance of a different mood taking over if she stayed. Ha-eun always controlled her own movements. Always.
"Hey."
"Yes."
"Tomorrow."
"Yes."
"Don't forget the chicken breast."
"I won't."
Ha-eun walked to the entryway. She slipped into her slippers. She placed her hand on the door handle—and paused. Without turning back, she spoke. "Give me a massage... again sometime." And with that, she opened the door and left. It clicked shut.
I stood in front of the sofa, staring at my hands. The hands that had been kneading Ha-eun's shoulders just moments ago. Her body heat still lingered on my fingertips. The firmness of her muscles and the softness as they yielded. The hot skin I had felt through the thin fabric of her T-shirt. My hands were shaking. Still. I sat down on the sofa. Right where Ha-eun had been sitting. It was still warm. The cushion was slightly indented in the shape of her body.
Ha-eun was a complex person. Strong on the outside, fractured on the inside. Even after knowing her for just a month, I could tell she was someone who only felt secure when she was in complete control of every situation. And yet, that very person had just said, 'Give me a massage again.' She was asking for another moment where she could let go of that control. Asking me to create another space where she was allowed to let her guard down. That must have meant a great deal to her.
On that night, Ha-eun had been the one in control. 'Don't move.' She was on top. She was dominating. It was the way she felt comfortable. But today was different. Ha-eun had sat with her back turned to me. I had stood behind her. My hands had gripped her shoulders. Physically, I was positioned above her, and she had entrusted her back to me. I didn't know if she had come over with that in mind or not. It might have simply been that her shoulders were stiff and she wanted them loosened. But in the end, she had shown me her back. Her most vulnerable posture. To me. And she hadn't been able to hold back her sounds. My heart began to beat faster.
On that night on the massage table in Room 203, I had been beneath Ha-eun. In terms of both physical position and dynamic. Today, I was above her. But only in position. The dynamic was still driven by her. It had started with a command and ended with a command. 'Give me a massage.' 'Do it again.' Commands, not requests. But now, I knew there was a plea hidden within those orders.
On the TV, the streaming app's home screen was still cycling through previews. I hadn't pressed a single button since earlier. I picked up the remote and turned it off. Silence fell over the room. I looked at my hands again. The trembling had stopped. But the sensation on my fingertips remained. The tight bundle of Ha-eun's traps. The pulse at the side of her neck. The texture of her hair brushing against the back of my hand. "Give me a massage again." The words echoed in my mind. Ha-eun was someone who never asked. Everything was an order. 'Make me food.' 'Do it harder.' 'Don't talk to me.' But was "Do it again" a command or a request? The tone was a command, but the meaning was a plea. Do it again. Next time, too. Loosen me up. I pressed a hand to my forehead.
It had been a little over a month since I moved into this villa. A month ago, I was alone. It was quiet. Simple. Now, four women had carved their way into my life, each in her own distinct way. Seo-jin with her warmth, Chae-won with her quiet stillness, Da-in with her bright energy, and Ha-eun with her strength. Four different approaches. Four different temperatures. Four different touches. And I remembered every single one of those sensations. Seo-jin's hand—the warm hand that had laced its fingers through mine under the table. Chae-won's fingertips—the cool touch that had briefly brushed mine when she handed me a mug. Da-in's shoulder—the soft weight of her leaning against me through her oversized sweatshirt. Ha-eun's shoulders—the rock-hard muscles melting away under my touch. These four sensations were drawn like four distinct lines. They didn't overlap. Yet, they all pointed directly at me. I had thought before that a man standing in the center of such lines couldn't take a single step in any direction. That hadn't changed. If anything, it had only intensified. A month ago, there wasn't a single line. Now there were four. And I had no idea how far each of those lines would stretch.
I lay down on my bed. Tomorrow was the barbecue. There was a lot to prepare. I had to wake up early, prep the charcoal, bring out the ingredients, and set up the rooftop. And I couldn't forget to buy the chicken breast. I closed my eyes. Ha-eun's voice still lingered in my ears. 'Mnh...''There... that's good.''Haa...' Falling asleep while thinking about those sounds was the absolute worst. I knew that, yet they kept echoing. Completely against my will. Especially 'There... that's good.' It kept repeating on a loop. Did she make those sounds purely from the massage, or was there something else mixed in? Even she probably didn't know. If the pleasure of relaxing tense muscles and the pleasure of relinquishing control shared the same neural pathways, those two sensations might be indistinguishable to her. And that final 'Do it again.' It meant she wanted another massage, but at the same time, it meant she wanted to let go of her control again. It meant she would entrust her back to the same hands, in the same posture, once more. I didn't know how to process that. When Ha-eun had placed her hand over mine at the very end, that wasn't part of the massage. It felt like a command to stop, yet at the same time, a plea to keep holding on. It was the exact opposite of that night on the massage table. Back then, Ha-eun had been on top of me; today, I had stood behind her. Only our physical positions had flipped, but I still couldn't tell which way the dynamic was pulling us.
In the exact same spot, the weight of Chae-won sleeping against my shoulder on that rainy night, the soft touch of Da-in's shoulder brushing against my arm, and the warmth of Seo-jin's palm lingering on my chest this afternoon as she smoothed down my apron lapel all came rushing back. Four distinct marks had been carved into my daily life. Denying it would be a lie. Fuck. My hands were still shaking. With that final thought, I drifted off to sleep. Tomorrow was the rooftop. Five of us. The galbi would sizzle over the charcoal, and a separate plate of chicken breast would sit alongside it. I had no idea how tonight's shoulders would fit into that picture. I only knew that pretending nothing had happened was entirely Ha-eun's style.