Do I Have to Tell You?
Tuesday night, ten o'clock. I was working on a deadline at my living room desk. I was placing the final layer of an illustration on my tablet. As I was concentrating, a sound came from the front door. The doorbell. Once. A pause of about a second, then once more. A press without hesitation. There was only one person who rang like this at this hour. I opened the door. Ha-eun was standing there. Sleeveless top and leggings. It didn't look like she had just finished working out. Her hair was down. Usually, she wore it in a ponytail, but right now, her black hair fell to her shoulders. A hairstyle I had never seen on her before. No, she just hadn't tied it up. Her face was flushed. Did she have a drink?
"Hey."
"Ha-eun."
I called her by her name. Ever since that night on the massage table in Room 203, she had told me to drop the honorifics. Ha-eun looked up at me.
"Let me use your shower."
"...What?"
"My place doesn't have hot water. The boiler broke again."
Again. Weight hung on that single word. This wasn't the first time Ha-eun had come to borrow my shower. It had happened once about a month ago. Ever since that night, something strange had begun between us. The villa's maintenance issues were never-ending. Dain's place on the first floor suffered from street noise, and Ha-eun's place had a broken boiler. I really had half a mind to complain to the landlord of Haedam Villa.
"Come in."
Ha-eun walked into the bathroom. The door closed. The click of the lock.
I returned to my desk. I needed to focus on my deadline. I added layers, adjusted the colors, and cleaned up the lines. The sound of running water echoed from the bathroom. The shower. Ha-eun was showering in my bathroom. Don't think about it. I shouldn't think about it. But the very act of trying not to think about it meant I was already thinking about it.
Ten minutes. The sound of water stopped. A moment later, the bathroom door opened. I timed my departure from the desk poorly. I was just heading to the kitchen to get a glass of water, and my path crossed exactly with Ha-eun stepping out of the bathroom. The hallway was narrow. It was only a couple of steps from the desk at the end of the living room to the bathroom door. We met right in the middle.
Ha-eun had a towel wrapped around her head. Droplets of water dripped from her black hair. Her neck. Her collarbone. Her shoulders. She had taken off her sleeveless top. She was wearing only a sports bra on top. Black. It clung tightly to her damp skin. The lines of her abs were defined. The V-line below her belly button. The boundary between the waistband of her leggings and her bare skin. A droplet of water slid down from her collarbone, tracing the valley between her breasts. One drop. Slowly. It stopped. Ha-eun looked at me.
"What are you looking at?" her voice was low.
"I wasn't—"
"You were."
I couldn't deny it this time. I looked. I definitely looked.
"...I was looking."
I admitted it honestly. Trying to lie to Ha-eun would never work anyway. The corner of Ha-eun's mouth curled upward. It was different from her usual smirk. It rose slower. Deeper.
"Honest, aren't we?"
Ha-eun took a step closer. The hallway was narrow. A single step brought her almost flush against me. I could feel the heat radiating from her body. The warmth of her skin right after a shower. The warm moisture rising from her pores. It wasn't just any body wash scent—it was mine. She had used the body wash from my bathroom. Ha-eun's body smelled like me.
"Ha-eun."
"What."
"Put some clothes—"
Ha-eun's hand pressed against my chest. With just one hand. Not violently, but firmly. I was pushed backward. One step. Two steps. My back hit the hallway wall. Ha-eun planted one hand on the wall right next to my head. A wall-slam. Isn't this usually something guys do? But when Ha-eun did it, it felt entirely natural. Her toned body. Her trainer's shoulders. Her sharp eyes. When cornered against a wall by this woman, there was no escape.
"Hey."
Ha-eun's voice was low. Almost a whisper.
"Do you remember... back then?"
Ha-eun didn't explicitly name that day. Her apartment. The massage table. Grabbing my wrists. 'Don't move.'
"...I remember."
"You asked me then. 'What is this?'"
"Yeah."
"Do you still not know?"
I didn't. She had called it recovery, so I thought it was just recovery. But after that, her visits became more frequent. She would bring ingredients over almost every other day. The tone of her "Just make food" had softened slightly. Her passing comment of "You're quite popular."
"...I'm not really sure."
"Idiot."
Ha-eun didn't take her hand off the wall. Instead, she leaned in even closer. Close enough that our noses almost touched.
"Should I teach you?"
My heart pounded. Loudly. Ha-eun's eyes were so close. Her sharp gaze. Her long eyelashes. Seeing her from this close, I realized something. Ha-eun's eyes weren't cold. There was a fire inside her dark irises. A burning fire.
"Ha-eun."
"Quiet."
An order. Ha-eun cupped my chin. With one hand, her thumb and index finger traced up my jawline. She tilted my head up. Forcing me.
"Look."
Ha-eun's face lowered. Her lips drew near. She stopped just a hair's breadth away.
"Should I give you permission?"
This was... a repetition of that night. Ha-eun held the permission. The initiative. The control. All I could do was answer.
"...Yes."
Ha-eun's lips brushed past mine. Not a kiss on the lips. Her lips grazed my cheek, the corner of my mouth, my jawline. Slowly, she moved down. My neck. Ha-eun's lips pressed against my neck. Hot.
"Ha-eun—"
"Shut up."
Ha-eun pressed her lips to my neck, her tongue sweeping over my skin. Right over my pulsing vein. I held my breath. I shouldn't, but I couldn't help it. Ha-eun's lips traveled up from my neck to just below my ear.
"Hey."
She whispered in my ear. Her hot breath tickled my skin.
"Get on your knees."
My knees? I looked at Ha-eun. Her eyes were looking down at me. From above. A dominant gaze. The strength drained from my legs. Ha-eun's hand pressed down on my shoulder. A single hand. Pushing down. Pressure. If I resisted, I could easily stand my ground. But I didn't want to resist. My knees touched the floor. Ha-eun looked down. I looked up. From this angle, her abs were right in front of my eyes. The waistband of her leggings. Her belly button. Her V-line. Ha-eun's hand rested on top of my head. She grabbed my hair. Not painfully hard, but firmly enough to hold me in place.
"Good boy," Ha-eun said, the corner of her mouth curving up. "You're the type who listens well when told."
"Ha-eun, this—"
"Do I have to tell you?"
That single question. I looked up at her body. The sports bra. Her damp skin. The water droplets. Her abs. The waistband of her leggings. Ha-eun's hand reached for the band. Her own leggings. With her thumb, she slid the band down. One centimeter. Two centimeters. The skin of her lower abdomen was revealed. She stopped there.
"Do I have to tell you?" she repeated, her voice even lower.
I placed my hands on her waistband. If she didn't allow it, I would pull them away. But— Ha-eun's hand rested on top of mine. She didn't clasp it, nor did she push it away. She simply left it there. Permission. I slid her leggings down. Ha-eun stepped out of them, one foot at a time. Beneath them, she wore simple black panties. Plain and practical. Just like her. Ha-eun's hand gripped my hair again. Harder this time. Tugging at the strands.
"Do it."
A single word. A command.
I pressed my lips to her thigh and worked my way up. The inner thigh. Toned, yet surprisingly soft skin. Ha-eun's breathing changed. It grew shallower. She tried to control it, but her breath began to slip from her grasp.
"Higher."
Ha-eun's hand guided my head. Upward. Higher up her inner thigh. I reached the edge of her panties.
"Take them off."
I pulled down her panties. Ha-eun's legs. The space between her firm thighs.
"Look at me," Ha-eun commanded.
I looked up. Ha-eun was staring down at me. Her cheeks were flushed. She was biting her lip. There was a burning heat in her eyes, but her gaze remained steady. Control. Control until the very end.
"If you do well, I'll give you a reward."
Ha-eun's hand pressed my head down. I brought my lips to her.
Ha-eun's breathing shifted. From short, rapid gasps to deep, slow breaths, then quickening once more. Every time my tongue moved, her thighs tensed, relaxed, and tensed up again.
"There..."
Ha-eun's voice wavered. It was the first time. The first time I had ever heard her commanding tone falter. But she recovered quickly.
"Don't stop."
A command. I didn't stop. With her hand still gripping my hair, she guided my rhythm. Faster. Even faster. No, slower. Ha-eun dictated the pace. All I could do was follow.
Ha-eun's legs trembled. The muscles of her inner thighs twitched and tightened. Ha-eun gasped. And gasped again. She was holding it in, trying not to make a sound.
"Ha-eun."
"Shut... up. Don't talk."
But her voice cracked. Her back was pressed against the wall. I didn't know when she had started leaning on it. The strength was draining from her legs. She was finding it hard to stand. I gripped her thighs to support her. With both hands. I could feel her trembling legs in my palms.
"Hey..."
Ha-eun's voice rose. Her low tone went up an octave. The moment her control slipped away.
"Hey, right there—yeah, there—if you stop, I'll kill you—"
Ha-eun's hand gripped my hair tightly. It hurt. But I didn't stop. Ha-eun's body stiffened. Her thighs clamped shut. Her breath hitched. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds—
"—!"
She swallowed her cry, biting her lip. But she couldn't stop the moan that escaped from the back of her throat. A short, high-pitched sound. A sound I had never heard from her before. Ha-eun's body went limp. Her strength vanished. Her knees buckled. I caught her, holding her as she slid down to the floor. The hallway floor. The two of us sat there. Ha-eun leaned her back against the wall, and I sat in front of her.
Ha-eun panted heavily. Her eyes were half-closed. Her cheeks were flushed red. A faint mark remains where she bit her lip. Strands of hair clung to her face. It was an expression I had never seen on her before. Ha-eun's face, completely stripped of control. Defenseless. Her sharp eyes had softened. The smirk at the corner of her mouth was gone. She was beautiful.
Ha-eun opened her eyes. Our gazes locked. Three seconds. The clarity returned to her eyes. Her sharpness returned. Control was restored.
"...Not bad," is her review.
A sensation intense enough to buckle her knees was compressed into a simple "not bad." Classic Ha-eun.
"Ha-eun."
"What."
"This time, let me ask you. What is this?"
Ha-eun looked at me.
"..."
She didn't answer. She stood up. She picked up her leggings and pulled them back on. She dried her hair once more with the towel. She slipped her sleeveless top back on. Fully dressed, Ha-eun was back to her usual self. Cold, sharp, and in control.
But I saw her expression from three seconds ago. Defenseless. Soft. Her eyes drained of strength. That was likely a face Ha-eun never wanted to show anyone.
"Hey."
"Yeah?"
"Food."
"For tomorrow morning?"
"No. Now."
"Now?"
"I'm hungry."
Ha-eun sat at the dining table, crossing her arms. As if nothing had happened.
I stood in the kitchen and opened the fridge. I decided to make ramen. Late-night ramen. Something simple. As I put the water on to boil, I looked back at Ha-eun. She was looking at her phone, drying her hair with one hand. Her damp black hair was spread across her shoulders. Just moments ago, her hand was gripping my hair, controlling the pace, threatening to kill me if I stopped. She had taken the lead. From start to finish. Pushing me against the wall, making me kneel, grabbing my hair—it was all her.
But at the very end, she couldn't answer my question: What is this? Ha-eun could take the lead in her actions, but she couldn't define her emotions with words. That was a realm beyond her control. Once you give something a name, it slips out of your grasp. The ramen boiled. I divided it into two bowls and placed one in front of her. Ha-eun picked up her chopsticks and ate. Slurp. She sipped the broth.
"...It's good," she said in a small voice, her eyes fixed on her bowl.
I ate too. The two of us eating ramen in the dead of night.
This was Ha-eun's way. Once it was over, it was over. Onto the next meal. The next step. But I knew. I could see that her cheeks were still flushed as she ate. Her earlobes were red. The hand holding her chopsticks was trembling ever so slightly. She wasn't unaffected either. Finishing her ramen, Ha-eun stood up.
"I'm leaving."
"Okay."
She stopped as she slipped into her sandals at the entryway. She didn't look back.
"Hey."
"Yeah?"
"..."
Three seconds of silence. Ha-eun started to say something, then stopped. She swallowed her words. She turned and opened the door.
"Tomorrow morning, seven o'clock."
The door closed.
Sitting at the empty table, I looked at the two ramen bowls. Ha-eun's bowl. She drank all the broth. That was unlike her. I stared at the empty bowl for a long time. I washed the dishes, turned off the lights, and lay down in bed. Ha-eun's voice still echoed in my ears. Do I have to tell you? And that final moan. The sound she tried to swallow but couldn't stop from escaping. Short and high-pitched. I pressed a hand to my forehead. Being dominated by this woman, and making this woman buckle to her knees... both shook my heart to its core. That much was certain.
That night, Ha-eun's hands had controlled me. Tonight, my lips had controlled her. The positions were reversed, but the direction of the momentum was still in Ha-eun's court. It began with a command, and it ended with a command. But between those commands, there was a cracked voice. There was Seojin's interlaced fingers. There was Chaewon falling asleep on my shoulder on a rainy night. There was Dain's shirt. And today, there was Ha-eun's command. Four different beats, stacking up with different textures. They weren't even the same kind of events, yet it's strange how they all unfold in the daily life of a single person. Each event is independent, but when combined, they point in a single direction. The moment I try to define what that direction is, it immediately slips away. As long as I don't give it a name, it's just daily life. Life rolls on.
Tomorrow morning at seven. The doorbell will ring. Ha-eun will be standing there with her tote bag. "Hey, food." Just like usual. It will look like any other day. But it won't be. Both of us know that now. We know it, even as we pretend not to. I look up at the ceiling. The afterimage of the fluorescent light is burned into my eyes. I stare at it for a long time. Staring doesn't bring any answers. But I keep looking anyway. Not having an answer just means the time hasn't come yet. That, in itself, has meaning. Waiting for the right time is also part of the answer.
I think of Ha-eun's hand pressed against the hallway wall. A trainer's hand. Calluses on her palms, yet her fingertips are surprisingly soft. For someone who works out so much, her hands aren't rough, but her strength is unmistakable. That hand had pressed down on my shoulder and made me kneel. If I had resisted, I could have easily held my ground, yet I didn't. That is the strangest part. I didn't kneel because Ha-eun was stronger; I chose to kneel for her. In this dynamic, who was really controlling whom? Will I know the answer when I wake up tomorrow? I don't know. I close my eyes. It feels like sleep won't come for a long time. The afterimage of the two ramen bowls floats on the dark ceiling. Both bowls were completely empty of broth. That is probably the closest thing to a conclusion for today.