The Snare of Symmetry C5

Chapter 5

“I didn’t see you at the party.”

“…I left early.”

The hand that had been gripping Bernard’s throat slid down slowly, then settled at his lower back. Even if Rubens had realized Bernard wasn’t a call boy, the touch was laden with unmistakable implication.

Should he say it now—that he wasn’t Elliott?

But his mouth wouldn’t open.

Every time he’d said I’m not Elliott, I’m Bernard, he’d been met with those looks. Eyes full of hostility, received without fail, without a single margin for error. He didn’t want Rubens to look at him like that.

Why?

“You look like you drank a lot.”

“A little.”

“You seem drunk. I’ll step aside—get some sleep.”

“Yeah, I’m a bit drunk. There was someone I was supposed to meet… guess we missed each other.”

Nausea rolled up Bernard’s throat as he tried to pull away. It would be better to leave while he was still mistaken for Elliott. If he ran now—before everything was exposed—it would be fine.

The entire hotel had been booked out for the graduation party. He could hide in any empty room and sleep it off. That would be enough.

He’d confirmed that this man hadn’t met Elliott. That was enough. What to do about the previous party—whether to explain it to Elliott later or keep silent—could be decided afterward.

But the hand gripping Bernard’s waist refused to let go.

“Don’t you know how to kiss?”

“I’m not… short on money. And I’m not a call boy.”

Their chests brushed together. Even through layers of clothing, the sensation was painfully vivid. Rubens’s chest rose and fell shallowly, the tremor of his laughter transferring directly into Bernard.

“Try kissing me first. You might find it’s not so bad.”

The certainty in his voice made it clear. Only then did Bernard realize what soaked Rubens’s tone—pure desire.

Goosebumps rippled across Bernard’s body.

In the next moment, Rubens swallowed the nape of Bernard’s neck, his tongue tracing along the line of his throat. The slow, upward drag of that tongue brushing his jaw was obscenely clear.

Bernard flinched despite himself, fingers clutching at Rubens’s arm.

He knew Rubens had dated men before.

But he—

“I appreciate what you did for me before. I’ll be leaving now.”

“Think again.”

Their bodies pressed together without a gap. A hand clamped down on Bernard’s shoulder, forcing him in place. A leg slid between his thighs.

Bernard sucked in a sharp breath—and Rubens’s lips followed, pressing against his.

The soft friction of their lips brushing made Bernard’s shoulders curl inward instinctively.

“Since I know your face, I’ll treat you fairly well.”

This was insane.

Bernard felt his thoughts bleach white. He could clearly feel the unmistakable swell pressing against him. He knew some people had terrible habits when drunk—but was Rubens the type who got aroused like this?

If not, there was no reason he’d be hard over him.

Hot breath clung stickily to his lips. When Rubens’s tongue caught Bernard’s trembling lower lip and tugged, Bernard’s thighs squeezed together reflexively—only to be stopped by the firm leg wedged between them.

Pinned like a mounted insect, Bernard couldn’t move, forced to endure what poured down on him.

“Please… you’ll regret this.”

“Me?”

Rubens sounded amused. A quiet laugh brushed across Bernard’s lips. His tongue pushed between Bernard’s parted teeth, thick and invasive, rummaging through the tender flesh inside his mouth.

Saliva tangled.

The pressure at the back of Bernard’s head increased, intimate and unyielding. His hands flailed uselessly before clutching at Rubens’s shoulders.

Wet sounds echoed as flesh was bitten and tugged. Bernard’s hands, shaking as they tried to push away, suddenly went slack. When Rubens rubbed and sucked at the root of his tongue, a sharp, electric sensation shot through Bernard’s lower abdomen.

The chill of it stole his strength.

Tongue tangled with tongue, slick and persistent. Heat built as their bodies ground together. The hand gripping Bernard’s shoulder slid down, slipping beneath fabric.

Cool fingers traced bare skin. The hand dipped toward his abdomen, then dragged back up to clutch near his ribs.

“You’re the one who’ll regret it.”

Bernard’s heart dropped heavily.

Rubens’s laughter-laced voice felt like it was digging straight into his chest. He should have said I’ve never slept with a man, or I never even planned to—anything.

But he couldn’t.

Whatever it was, he didn’t want to receive contempt from this man. Not even something close to it.

It was an irrational obsession.

Rubens was a stranger. Someone from a completely different world. He wouldn’t have heard the rumors about Elliott. He couldn’t know.

So just once—just once—Bernard wanted to receive an untainted gaze from someone who knew nothing of his shadow.

Even if he had to pretend to be someone loved all his life, he wanted to taste affection without reservation.

That cheap, ignoble desire writhed deep inside him.

And selfishly, he wanted to feel the gentleness of a man everyone admired.

“Do you dislike me?”

“……”

“Elliott. Answer me. Do you dislike me?”

The tone was excessively sweet.

Bernard knew it was nothing more than coaxing—but he couldn’t reject it. He had never received such mild, gentle emotion from anyone in his life. Life had always been stained with hostility.

Anyone who approached him kindly always had a purpose.

A purpose aimed at Elliott.

Even if this man was calling him Elliott now—was he truly wanting Elliott?

Irrational thoughts leapt wildly.

“No… I don’t.”

At his small answer, Rubens stripped his shirt off with ease and rested his cheek against Bernard’s bare chest. The sound of a heartbeat was painfully clear.

Bernard’s face flushed hot. His head dipped, bangs spilling forward to hide his expression. His blinking eyes dampened—but Rubens couldn’t see it.

“…I’m not usually like this.”

“I know. Let’s blame the alcohol.”

The words I’m not Elliott pressed painfully against Bernard’s throat. His breathing grew tight.

Even as he cowardly let it pass, Rubens accepted it easily—though the teasing lilt in his voice was obvious.

“Don’t mock me. I didn’t watch you seriously on that talk show…”

“Talk show?”

“You were on Hoden’s Night Show. You said being at the top isn’t all good… that you need to look at the ground narrowing beneath you.”

Despite clearly being shy, Bernard rambled on boldly, like someone fearless. It was unmistakably drunken behavior—yet he seemed unaware he was rambling at all.

Using the faint city lights beyond the window, Rubens studied Bernard’s face. Only parts of it appeared and vanished in the dim glow—but it was enough to tell he was beautiful.

And the undeniable bulge between Bernard’s thighs made it clear he was male.

That didn’t matter.

Rubens was attracted to faces, not genders.

“And you also said being alone was lonely.”

“Scripted nonsense. Now that I think about it—was that meant to lure people in?”

“No… that’s not it. You’re mistaken.”

Bernard shook his head, frowning—but trapped in Rubens’s arms, it only pressed his face deeper into Rubens’s chest.

Rubens buried his face in Bernard’s neck. The sweet scent still clung to him. It made Rubens’s throat dry.

Maybe he should stop listening to all this and just flip him over, pin him down.

The thought reared its head.

“Everyone always pulled the same old trick—said they wanted to fill that loneliness. What about you?”

“…I don’t say things like that. I don’t have the confidence.”

“Why?”

“Loneliness can’t be filled by people. But there are better ways.”

The unexpected answer made Rubens narrow his eyes again. Bernard’s voice softened, slowing.

As if afraid he’d slip into sleep, Rubens lightly bit his chin. He didn’t want to see those green eyes fully close.

If anything—he wanted to see him cry.

Or more precisely… he wanted to see him smile sweetly.

“And if I were trying to lure you,” Bernard continued softly,

“I’d say I’d fill your anxiety instead…”

“That doesn’t sound pleasant.”

“No—it’s better that way. People who drift are always shaking with anxiety. So you show them there’s something absolute they can stand on. Then… the anxiety settles.”

Rubens pulled Bernard closer. Their bodies fit together without space. Rubens’s shirt slipped off completely, falling somewhere beyond the bed.

Bare skin met bare skin. Heat flared.

Someone’s breath stretched long.

“How would you do that?”

“I’m confident in loving something obsessively.”

“Well. I don’t believe in eternal love.”

Predictable.

Rubens almost scoffed—when a thin voice continued.

“You can throw it away and break it again and again. I’ll even fill your pride. I know my feelings aren’t cheap to others. I’m used to being one-sided… Show off my feelings.”

“So you’d train me until I couldn’t look at anyone else?”

“That’s not it. Anyway… that was if I were trying to lure you.”

Was he Mother Teresa?

That was Rubens’s first thought.

Plenty of people approached him under the pretense of love, coveting his wealth while pretending to be pure. But the person in his arms spoke of worthless, trivial things—and yet provoked him effortlessly.

They were both undoubtedly drunk beyond reason.

“You think that would make me happy?”

“…Because no one’s ever offered to become something small and pitiful. Wouldn’t it be nice to fill just one missing piece?”

The answer was absurdly bold.

In the dark, Rubens could feel how fast Bernard’s heart was racing against his own.

“You’d do that for me?”

“…If you look for me. Then… I will.”

Bernard’s voice trembled sweetly.

He no longer even seemed aware that he was supposed to imitate Elliott. The shell he’d worn had peeled away strangely. Whether he was Elliott or Bernard no longer mattered—his eyes were wide and earnest.

What he wanted was simple.

To be seen—not as Elliott, but as Bernard.

If that happened, he could throw his whole body into it without hesitation.

The thought left him dizzy, breath climbing painfully into his throat.

“Alright.”

Their lips met again.

The smell of alcohol felt strangely sweet. The sound of the sheets being pressed down seemed distant.

Holding him tightly, Rubens rubbed his lips against Bernard’s once more.

“First—tell me if you like this night.”

“You might regret tonight…”

“Then leave it as an eternal regret.”

And then—the sound of a condom wrapper tearing.