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sugar-petals · 3 years

Text

; Sunny Dear (m) | yoongi oneshot

↳ “I didn’t do it, and it’s my right to say that.“

› ✖︎ PLOT. underground producer min yoongi is falsely life sentenced for a crime that a mysterious rival committed. he sees his life go down the drain in prison — until his old flame and high school crush, sunshine, emerges to visit him out of nowhere. her appearance drags daegu detention center into violent chaos, her insisting there is evidence to get him out: and that he still got it. to yoongi’s surprise, sunshine wants to pick up where they left off and sleep with him... if needed, behind bars.

words. 34k

pairing: inmate!yoongi x femme fatale!oc

genre: smut / angst / drama / horror

READ IT ON AO3 | MASTERLIST

⌜ 🅽🅾🆃🅴 ➝ this one relies heavily on world-building, many details and jail slang words are taken from IRL occurrences. i wanted realism and to bring up some heavy-weight topics as a deep dive into prison culture but also make it understandable/immersive. i usually don’t create ocs, but this pairing just fit together perfectly.

warnings. | classism, ptsd, blackmail, death penalty mention, mental illness, solitary confinement, profanity, misogyny & homophobia, depictions of aggression, mind break, sex in nasty environments, extreme fantasies, tall and curvy!oc, protected sex, lingerie, tattoo/muscle fixation, yoongi pov

PROLOGUE

My name is Min Yoongi. This March, I turned 28 in prison. I’ll be almost 50 years old when I leave this place. I didn’t do it, and it’s my right to say that.

I produced as Suga in the underground, I’ve worked for a label. But that feels like it happened a decade ago. Time is different in here. Days, too — structured, to the very last minute. You’re certainly not spoiled. Everybody gets to know that as soon as they arrive on the yard. No Gods, no kings. Just people trying to create a weapon from everything they get their hands on. It’s the least romantic thing you can think of. Especially for someone who didn’t commit the crime.

The case has followed me around since 2017. Two years later, I came here. Daegu Detention Center. The only thing left of my former life being a pair of shoes. They screened me for a week, assigned me a group cell. By the summer of 2020, only one cellmate.

I don’t really talk unless I really have to. The food is slightly better than things my school handed out back in the day, but other weeks, there’s just bean rice for a month straight. If you step out of line, it’ll be cut down further. You can’t even watch TV anymore. If you get the allowance at all, that is. It’s just one programme anyway, and they don’t play any music.

I train, I work. It’s overcrowded here. I share my already limited space with sexual predators, organized crime lords, family murderers, spree killers, kidnappers, pimps, child pornographers, school shooters, and blackmailers. Most of them attested incurable: No matter what, they will return to doing what they do — hence they’re in here since forever, all in one spot, which of course makes them totally harmless and doesn’t galvanize these people at all.

Hate the sin, not the sinner, forgive, don’t forget. After just five months and getting most of my things for basic survival stolen, clothes and all kinds of things from the commissary, I could already tell you that’s a load of bullshit. Listen to the guys from Floor 4 at lunch and you’ll change your mind in two seconds. Floor 4, and that’s what I didn’t have to learn from the guards because the inmates tell you right away, is where the rapists are kept. And that’s just the beginning. The people in charge are no better, the marching guards that surround me every minute of the day.

It’s really no matter where in the DDC hierarchy. It just depends on where the money is, and the guns, and the police. Position is everything, the strings you pull are everything. And as a treat, the guys in here are not just carrying around their criminal role. The more I spend time on the yard, the more I notice how they become ‚a certain personality‘.

Or rather, they give themselves away as such at one point. Too many instances down the food hall, it brings out what’s already been slumbering inside. Prison is like alcohol. Lower the inhibitions, you see the real person. My cellmate calls it the Famous Four you find among inmates first-hand. The Entitled, the Bullies, the Sheep, and the utterly Self-righteous. You can’t even call them ‚personalities’ if we’re honest. They’re just tools. For what, we all know. Power’s everything.

The Entitled guys, they’re narcs, only they deserve the best. They’re no good but expect to get all the good, so you can imagine how they’re like. The Bullies, they run this place. They’re confronters, abusers. You find them at every corner. At least they burn out when you successfully ignore them, but they’re physical, still. Control is everything. They dominate. If we’re talking staff, guess which category the wardens fall into.

Meanwhile, the Sheep. They’re dangerous. Extremely dangerous, all the way. Sheep can turn into all the four types depending on the situation. They comply for praise, belonging. What the gang says, they execute. Choi from the first floor, a guy I thought was likeable and ordinary, almost killed a novice just because a senior inmate had something against the youngster’s way of talking.

Sheep can turn. Trust them one day, the next, they’re at your throat: Just to fit in with the big boys telling them what to do. What I noticed is, especially Bullies feed off their neediness. They can lean back, expand their control, Sheep do the work instead. Not that it’s comfortable at the top. Just more comfortable.

That’s why conformity is the most dangerous sign post I’ve run into. If someone is in any way ordinary, watch the fuck out. The other types, who they are, at least they tell it to your face. Sheep are the actual people who put the agenda of the big boys into practice. If you see diplomacy, run for your life, lest you want your eyes carved out by rusty spoons for breaking the tight code that rules in here.

And finally, as a last type: The Self-righteous, a category that others try to count me into:

Those who insist they did nothing wrong.

Their sense of reality is the following: They simply live in their own. Self-righteous inmates construct everything to soothe their little ego and never fall short of blaming others. They’re the innocent ones, the denialists, the holier-than-thou, Jesus Christ in perfect flesh just happening to be incarcerated.

I reject being called that kind of guy. For reasons that are supposed to be obvious. Which makes me look like I’m digging my hole even deeper. And vice versa, it’s the same. Should I accept being chalked up as some kind of moral crusader, should I say I’m guilty even if I’m not — guess what that makes me. A conforming sheep with no way out anymore, right inside the slaughterhouse. A hundred people are waiting for me to say I did it, I started the fire, I’m the one. The only way to evade it all is to stay forever ambiguous.

It’s the last thing I planned when I took up working on my album in 2016. Other rappers do their best to land in here on purpose. That’s some horseshit. I stay clear from as many people as I can. It��s a good thing I’m older, and it’s a good thing I came from the underground. Junsu says, it gives you the currency of respect. Not leverage, that’s what Bullies wield, but at least some respect in the eyes of older convicts. And I duly need that since I’m not a 6’4 iron jaw wonderboy who’s naturally intimidating.

I perform maintenance at a wage even lower than what music paid me through the years. What’s worse, I haven’t heard a song in at least seven months. I stop remembering some melodies altogether, and the hardest part is admitting that. Playing it in your head is all you can do. On and on and on. To preserve it, and to cherish it, but there are days where I see no point and just try to think about sex to distract me from everything.

Delusional I’ve been, I was looking forward to working in the kitchen, but the atmosphere isn’t any less tough in there. The bathrooms look like crime scenes. People are fighting for food to bring back to the quarters and sell. Knives and laddles are essentially chained to the tables so they can’t be used for assault. The last guy who got caught making out with a female kitchen staff member in the dry storage room got sent into solitary as punishment.

People attempt to punch each other’s lights out over a single cup of coffee. I try to keep a low profile and not get into a fight like that. Preparing the same rice for 19 more years seems to be my fate, then. Some people can manage with humor. But usually when they’re already out of there. The real jokesters and hippies in here stagnate, and most likely become extremely religious, which annoys everybody else since they’ve gone from Sheep to Self-Righteous.

I don’t have that kind of belief in me. I just want a piano. Daily life monotony makes me tread along, but I’m close to just giving up. I probably already did. Every way to shift I trod down the corridor thinking of nothing at all where I once had racing thoughts. Maybe I got used to all this, but nobody would call that a good thing. Except the wardens. They love it when you switch yourself off like that, calling you a shell, a puppet.

The established people don’t often try to mess with me, that’s the only good part. My voice and dialect compensate for my stature at least a little bit. My first idea was, make friends with the right people. But we’re all too selfish in here, and the atmosphere on the yard couldn’t be any more tense. There’s been a gang war that ended up locking everything down for two weeks at the beginning of the year. The guards had to tell us it was New Year’s Eve, we lost track of the days.

Guys in my neighboring cells have tattoos of clocks with no numbers and handles on them. A cellmate told me what it means. The only way out is in a body bag one far decade ahead. They still choose to be alive and gain something. Whether for good or bad stuff or both, I really don’t know. Regardless of the 65 years ahead. In comparison, my sentence looks short. But it doesn’t make the coming 20 years and the parole afterwards any less brutal. Years of home confinement. Never underestimate parole. And it’s not like you can start a career in music at 50 years old, from your living room.

Whether I think about these things or not, either way, I can’t fall sleep on the bunk. There’s a reason why the people with the empty clock tattoos aren’t allowed to return. They’ve done things I can’t imagine. And I’m with them. In here. My life is in shambles. Nothing that goes on in society until I reached the half of my life can I witness from here. Twenty years of lost music and stuck with some of the most dangerous guys of society, Level 4 and 5 criminals.

Molesters, killers, sadistic pedophiles. And people who actually, systematically, ruthlessly committed the crimes I was accused of carrying out. Real arsonists, who acted on intent and in the most calculated ways. I was at the wrong time and place, without a match and gasoline. They were not. They wanted to be there. If you have any grip on statistics and Cluster Bs, you know that they all are capable, no, motivated, to try similar things in here. Lighters are so strictly forbidden, only non-smokers are hired as staff.

It’s not like the tone in here is all sombre mood. That’s actually the frightening part. There are low-level gang members, thieves, and scammers leaning at every cell bar with that smug and scanning smile on their face.

These people see an opportunity everywhere by default, no matter if this is Daegu prison. You have to keep your attention on your things at all times. I spent last week on another lockdown because of them. One inmate screws up, we all pay. Which isn’t effective at all in preventing the same thing from happening again. It’s all one big cycle.

The food becomes more and more terrible, even if I make it. I feel sick. I go to bed with one eye open. I work my shift looking side to side rather than checking the pot. It’s too loud in here. I have to work more so I can afford basic fucking clothes. Namjoon is as broke as I am, I can’t expect much help from the outside. The only thing I can try to do is get any sleep and blend in without losing myself. And so I keep my head down.

ACT I

Thursday morning begins with quarrels on the yard, more bean rice, a meager workout, and Officer Lee. Towering, angular, and stomping down the chow hall like an army general.

„Showtime, Min!“

He’s dragging me out of the kitchen after lunch, handcuffs dangling at his broad belt. He came prepared.

„Sir. I need to finish cleaning up.“

Lee’s unfazed — as always. The cuffs snap fast around my wrists in two seconds. Too fucking tight for my taste, but who cares about my hands.

Last time, I tried to convince. Told him they’re my most important tools in here and needed to keep the meals running. Which — obviously — doesn’t just benefit me alone. Instantly rejected. It’s not that he’s dense. He just likes to see me wince.

„Come, come along,“ Lee tugs at my sleeve, far too aggressive to be resisted. „I don’t have all day.“

His grip is way too hard on my arm. I can already tell something’s in the air, and not just the regular bullshit.

„I didn’t do anything. What is it now?“

„No need. Let the others take care here. You got something else to do. Get movin’, Min.“

Junsu warned me from the very start that Lee might not be the highest in hierarchy, but very well equipped to ignore an inmate’s every question. Most of the remaining kitchen staff is either glaring or laughing at me, but they’re equally not in the know, it seems. Things going on behind the scenes is all too common.

I’ve learned they’re acting like that because I’m the one getting shoved around now, whereas I wasn’t before. They all love seeing others get their punishments, do they. Anyone but them. As I told you. That’s how you spot the Entitled.

„Don’t tell me it’s solitary.“

Lee chuckles, and I can’t interpret it. „Something worse, by the looks of it.“

Fuck, man. I just know I have to brace myself.

It’s the same thing as before. I stuck to the rules and yet here I am, pushed through half of the third floor.

„Tell me. What’s happening!“

The panic shooting through my body is just about as worse as it was back on trial. I freeze, and I try to move, but it feels like I’m part of yet another scheme I know nothing about.

„There’s somebody very interesting waiting for you on the second floor.“

Another correctional staff approaches. Officer Han, here since 2019. I now get shackles for the feet as well. The mocking eyes of some other inmates from their cells propel my legs to walk, even if my mind screams no.

„The second floor?“

A place where the laundry is done, lawyers strut around, there’s the barber…

„Is it a lawyer?“

„Again, I think, worse.“

Like a fucking broken record. His vocabulary has never been interesting. Lee pushes me to enter a staircase now, narrow and grey walls all around. Han goes back on duty, it’s just the two of us again. The light is barely functioning in here. My fucking eyes. The pattern on the floor tiles is mismatched, an ugly blue and straining green.

„Who is it then!“

„Oh well,“ Lee stomps down the stairs behind me. „You have a very attractive lady visiting. Kinda strange one, but. Attractive regardless.“

„A—?“

My mind just skips. First, what the hell is Lee even talking about, and second, what’s up with that last part? I shake my head in disbelief, which paints a haughty, amused kind of expression on his face: It just screams arrogance more than ever. I feel so drained.

„Early 30s. Very blonde, very rich. Probably up to no good. Rings a bell?“

„No?!“

I didn’t have visitors for a whole year. This simply can’t be. No letters, no calls, nobody announced themselves in the last months, nothing.

Blonde and rich, I don’t know any person who looks like that lest someone with a lot of means. Who in the underground really does. I don’t have any rich friends. Namjoon and I probably have a combined net worth of ten bucks. Bang PD is the only one who makes a couple dimes off our mixtapes. Emphasis on ‚couple of‘, which frustrates him more than the two of us who are already used to it.

„Dame looks like so much trouble, we sent in some extra wardens,“ Lee continues to grin for a little, but also goes on to frown right at me. „Whatever she’s up to, or whatever you are up to: Better stay in line.“

His growling tone doesn’t sit well with me. It reminds me of the times when they announce lockdowns or some new, extremely dangerous Level 5s being brought here.

„I literally don’t know anything about a person like that!“

„I don’t like to repeat myself. Stay in line. Or else: Goodbye to your partner cell and kitchen work. Then we’re doing solitary indeed. Stop fucking yapping.“

A thousand possible people run through my mind. University, school, the label. It has to be someone I don’t know. Namjoon’s friends I know by heart, Jimin’s, too. She’s not someone who sounds like she’s affiliated with my family, either.

„I didn’t go out with anyone. I don’t know anyone with money!“

„Then,“ Lee shrugs, „you’re either twice as lucky or twice as doomed. We haven’t had a guest like that since ages. Your lady even scared the gatekeepers with her crazy outfit.“

More flickering light. We are about to descend to the second floor, where there’s barbed wire and no carpets anymore. Suddenly, the hostility of the kitchen seems to be the way lesser evil. My shackles are so heavy.

„Lee, what the hell is going on! Who is that girl?“

„Chick got a weird kinda glare,“ he booms, tipping me stair down stair. The banister, I really have to hold on tight. „I know a femme fatale when I see one. You got some freaky shit going on.“

I still have no idea. Why do wardens like Lee always talk like they’re not even introducing a real person. It’s always like you’re either meeting an animal, a villain, or some kind of wax figure. Lee is probably so caught in his bubble, he stopped seeing the humanity in anyone around him.

„Did she say why she’s here?“

„Unfinished business was the word.“

The way he repeats that sends chills down my spine. The handcuffs feel twice as tight now. Junsu always says: Euphemism is the language of authority and the damaged. He’s right. I know where to count Lee in.

„What’s her name?“

„Woman insisted on being registered by a name that’s not on her passport. Lord knows she’s here undercover.“

„Undercover?!“

I stop. What on earth is happening. An agent?

„Hurry, rap brat. Don’t stop walking.“

Lee pushes my back. I almost stumble.

„What does that mean now!“

„I’m watching you, Min. Don’t plan some bullshit.“

„What the hell should I be planning?“

„I think she’s here to put you six feet under anyway. It’s all fun and games until the blonde shows up. I got a feeling.“

„That person’s trying to kill me?!“

Officer Lee’s amusement is just about as terrifying as the thought of being entangled in even more of a mess than I already am. Somebody hiring a contract killer would not surprise me given the things that happened. One second of distraction, they have me poisoned, and I don’t wake up tomorrow. If I learned one thing, it’s that I’m easy to turn into a target.

„Well.“

„What, well?“

„As I said. It’s all pretty funky,“ Lee raises a brow. „You might be dealing with someone who lost their loved one in the fire, huh. Some people aren’t satisfied with your sentence.“

Oh no. Everything but that. Someone from the trial.

„I didn’t set the fire! Why do you even bring me to someone like that!“

Lee smiles. „Visitor is visitor. Be happy you get to see a shapely girl in all these years. You know, you gotta think realistically at DDC.“

What follows is the creepiest wink I’ve seen. Lee seems pretty self-satisfied with his talk, hands in his hips. I don’t really have to wonder what kind of person applies here to become a warden.

With every new week I spend in jail, I realize these people are as screwed up as the people inside the cells. Grandstander Bully if you’ve ever seen one.

„You think that’s all just a game. I don’t want to see her. I don’t know this woman… and I don’t know what’s going on. It’s my right to refuse,“ I grit at the Officer, who’s not impressed or swayed at all judging by his snarl.

In fact, Lee doesn’t seem like he’s stopping dead in his tracks anytime soon. We’ve passed almost the first half of the floor already.

„Some relatives of victims wanna look the perpetrator in the eye. It’s also their right. Can’t wait to see it.“

A rich fucker related to the victims is worse than twenty years of cooking bean rice. That kind of person is not only the last one to believe you. They’re also the first to make some moves to get you locked away for eternity. That this woman is on a personal vendetta is already bad enough, but that she’s visiting to see me in my misery is times worse.

„Is she there to just… laugh or scream at me or what?!“

It seems like everyone is out to humiliate me since three years and I don’t know why. If Namjoon turns out to go „Fuck Min Yoongi!“ at some point and leaves the label, I’m fully, entirely by myself.

„Who knows,“ Lee shrugs again. „She’s the type to say an electric chair looks great on you.“

„Are you fucking kidding…“

My head is breaking apart from panic. I’m fucked up. My eyes are a blur. I try to shake it off. Try to talk myself into remembering how Lee messes with your head like that. This can’t be. At this point, I do think I’m dealing with a lawyer. One that still doesn’t have enough.

„I’m just saying. You got a storm coming,“ Lee slows down his walk, indicating that we arrived. „Another thing you can whine about at the psychiatrist. Really pity Miss Park on that.“

Park is my assigned rehabilitation staff and we meet up once a week. She does consult people on death row even if the practice is supposed to be ‚under abolition‘ here. That’s a fucking lie.

As of recently, she tries to guilt-trip me into admitting I did it. I really have better things to do, to put it mildly. All these people are out to fucking strap me on that chair and close the door, then push the button and go on with their daily business. Fuck.

I really have to watch my every word. My body is on edge. I feel every heartbeat thump in my every limb. I’ll insist on my right to get my own lawyer in here, Mr. Kim, that’s all I can do. At this point, I’m almost screaming.

„Now at least tell me what her name is!“

„Easy, Min. Easy. This charming lady,“ Officer Lee grins, pushing open the door to the visitor hall, „ironically goes by the name of Miss Sunshine.“

„No fucking way!“

„Hey, handsome.“

There she stands, in the middle of the room. My God, as tall as ever. All gone blonde in long waves, just like Lee said. I never knew she dyed her hair. I had no idea about a designer costume, either. But the way she greets me is just like it always was. And still, I haven’t heard Sunshine cooing at me for so long, it sounds like a completely new language to me. I just can’t believe what I’m seeing. My jaw hasn’t dropped like that in four years time or more.

„Come on here, honey bun!“

She’s beckoning me. Twice, unmistakable, eyes on me. She’s so different than everything inside this place. I must look like some kind of loose puppet staggering towards her in my shackles, mouth remaining wide open. Most of the guards around the room are no different. Nobody has talked to me about any type of seating protocol.

Officer Lee stays behind, arms crossed. Clearing his throat and glaring. But I don’t mind him anymore. Sunshine has all the attention on her like the center of the universe. All in that saintly beige, textured blazer, and I’m no exception, stopping short before her at an arm’s length. Which she immediately corrects, stepping closer herself. Now it’s half that distance. I’m losing my fucking mind.

It’s really Sunshine. Out of all people, it’s her I anticipated the least. Up to this very minute, no, second, I thought we’d never see each other again.

„There we go. My sweet boo, eh.“

„You… you, here?“

„Well, yes,“ she fully pulls me close by my shoulders, low tone — so husky. The grip is neither superficial, nor is it very rough. I can’t name it, the way she’s touching me. I’m not used to these things. It’s such a wild mix of emotions. The only thing I can say is that it makes me hold my breath.

She tickles the underside of my chin, too, non-chalant as ever. Lee is probably imploding right at the end of the room, behind me.

The material of her gloves is as cold as the weather outside, at least I assume so. Goosebumps, hardcore. It happens so fast, I’m lagging behind for several moments. Stumbling down the stairs, my body was cold cement, but now it’s warm and malleable before her, just like muddy clay.

While she’s at it, Sunshine pinches at my left cheek because she can, which is also just like she always did. The guards are staring in shock too much to prevent her. Those kinds of exchanges are usually prohibited. It just happened anyway. She smiles, and I look just as sheepish, if not more. Her short verdict:

„Because why not!“

„I didn’t expect you at all— I thought, I—“

In a pencil skirt and platform peep-toes in the style of the 50s, for that matter. She must be 6’2 in those. That’s taller than Lee, taller than Han. And Junsu, who’s damn good at basketball and reaching the cell top shelf without a problem. And Namjoon as well. I’ve never seen her dress this way.

„Dropping by on a Thursday. Traditions.“

It’s just like back then. My knees have gone all shaky.

„Sorry“, I blurt out. „Really sorry. I need a moment.“

Sunshine swipes back a strand of waves from her shoulders and ends up turning sideways now. Now I actually notice — there’s a place reserved, just for us. I’ve never been in this room. She probably spent a few minutes here already.

Head tilted, Sunshine points me there because I don’t really react on it. I’m sort of pinned to the ground by a third pair of invisible shackles. The overwhelm of seeing her, the disbelief itself.

„Hey. Take your time,“ she says, basically guiding me to the designated table hands-on. „The whole fucking room’s gawking like we’re the circus, eh. But that’s okay. Just ignore that.“

„Yeah…“

„Now— Sit, sit. Look here. I picked up some coffee from the machine over there.“

And yes. A steaming cup is waiting for me right there. Somebody pinch me. This all can’t be real. Or wait: She just did. And I felt something from it, this actually happened.

The whole room, it’s spiralling. The white of the walls too brutal. The murmurs in my ear from every corner, so extremely daunting. But her, also her, most importantly her. Like a magnet, Sunshine just pulls my tired body to the little seating arrangement. I cannot not mirror her, I just do what she does to get there.

„What… what now?“

„Talk. We’ll just talk.“

I sit on the little red chair. She sits on the small blue one. Her legs are crossed to the right. Just like I remember her, seated on the piano bench next to me some time in July. And not just there. It’s Sunshine’s number one way of sitting. So characteristic of her. I missed it so much.

Seems like beside the dye and clothing style, her movements haven’t changed at all. Choppy, but slowed, and self-assured. Refreshing.

I sigh out. A ton of weight falls from my shoulders. We face each other up close and I love that. But the square white table between us is so old and unpolished, it’s not worth Sunshine laying her elbows on it.

„You could say it’s vintage,“ I speak out loud what we’re both thinking about it, pointing at the furniture. At least I didn’t lose my wit entirely yet, or maybe it’s her. Merely by sitting there, Sunshine has already loosened a tongue that would not move for weeks just by her presence.

All of a sudden, I couldn’t be any more focused. I’m alive, but at the same time, I want to pass out on the ground. I don’t know what this kind of shock this is. My hands hover close to the coffee cup, but I’m too busy gaping at her to extend the movement any further.

„Just like the two of us,“ Sunshine makes a kissy face at me, having my legs all fidgety. „Fits, doesn’t it.“

„Fits,“ I just nod, akin to a kind of hypnosis — but in a good way.

It’s no secret we had a fling back in the day. A few sweet months, until I was drafted on a rainy afternoon in late October. ROKAF — Republic of Korea Air force. Sunshine had to go abroad four months later. Opposite sides of the globe, basically. Her way of talking did get a little different. Not to mention the whole styling.

It’s more elaborate than ever, all in muted color. Taupe eye shadow, roughly pencilled brows, wild expressive eyes. Golden charm bracelets, back-combed hair, too. The waves, all loosely down her back, almost wispy at the tips. Pretty pointed shoulder pads, but not extremely so. It’s like the 90s in Paris.

I can very well imagine she scared the living shit out of some more inattentive staff at the gate. They’re more used to seeing all types of grim trodding figures with bad postures like mine.

Most of my fellow inmates would raise a brow at her decades-old clothing and the creepy gloves especially. Everything’s really overstated, more bizarre than plain fashionable. She’s not like their brand of tiny dolled-up girls from stolen porn mags on Floor One. And vice versa, she doesn’t look conservative either.

I knew Sunshine had an interest in putting a twist on historical clothing, but that she’d follow through over the years and make it a whole wardrobe mindfuck does surprise me. It’s like someone from the past came to see me.

If you think about it: It is fitting. One outfit says a thousand words. This meeting’s like a time machine. Whatever brought Sunshine here, it lightens the pain in my wrists and makes me look up instead of down for the first time in weeks. If you ask me about bizarre, antique, or creepy: I like it.

„Take your coffee, babe. Not extremely hot anymore, I’m thinkin’.“

„Oh, uh. Spaced out for a moment. Thank you.“

Right. The coffee cup. There I go, eventually. She gives a little wink.

„Cheers, eh. Bill’s on me.“

How many years has it been, a bit less than eight? More? We were barely 20. Bustling, confused late teens. And now, I got a grown woman in front of me. While I’m here sitting with my baby face, the fuzzy hair. It must be ridiculous by comparison.

The coffee cup looked small in her hands, but becomes all ample in mine. It also feels that way. I never got my hands on a sizable portion like that, even working in the damn kitchen where you’re supposed to be at the source.

Sunshine and I, if you ask our professors, we’ve already been the most unlikely couple back in the day. But now, it’s even more exaggerated, proabably in more ways than one. And I really thought I’d have to deal with some devil’s spawn of a lawyer.

This is just so much better. Sunshine is absolutely dressed like she earns twice as much as those. Lee didn’t lie about that, you can see the money. It’s really been such a while. And she came here, DDC, for whatever lucky reason.

That excitement takes away a lot of my body aches. And we’re not even talking about the wink yet. She looks so mature. Like she fully developed her own thing in life, a signature. The person I assumed I’d meet, who would have thought it’d be my old friend, right here in the visiting hall, buying coffee and touching me without a care in the world.

So much about Lee’s conspiracies. Electric chair my ass.

„Do these cuffs hurt?“

„Yeah.“

„Who the hell did this. That shit is way too tight.“

„I don’t think about it.“

„Just how much are these people mistreating you? Like fucking honestly.“

„It’s not like I got the keys at my disposal.“

„No complaints allowed here, huh.“

„Not really, no.“

„Figured that. Screwin’ you up big time.“

What I’ve been concerned with is that they let her in with blazer pockets like that. It’s a miracle. She could smuggle literally any small or medium-sized item in here. And that didn’t go unnoticed.

The officers are keeping eagle eyes on us with tapping feet. Not to mention some of the other inmates waiting for their own visitors. Three drilling gazes from each side of the room at least. I hate that we have to do this in a group. I do keep my voice as low as I can.

It’s not like I have to try, Sunshine just touching my face has basically knocked me out already. It takes my skin a while to even register that she really did. When I woke up today, and when Lee riled me through that staircase, the last thing I thought I’d be subject to was any touch like that.

„So… Namjoon told you I’m here?“

She nods. That’s the reason. So it’s all true.

I take a sip of the coffee, which makes my brows shoot up. It’s like liquid ambrosia: Hot, and the right amount of bitter. She added actual sugar, too. I don’t know where she managed to organize that one from. Or maybe it feels sweeter because I’m seated with her and my tongue is playing tricks. All of this moment could be one grand delusion.

„He did. By chance! When I was searching for you, all I ended up with was an old clueless couple. They were living at your former address.“

„Guess you still found me now,“ I say, trying hard not to make it sound defeated, but it is.

„Exactly right.“

„Didn’t really know you were searching for me.“

Sunshine and I kind of lost contact. Well, not kind of. We did. I didn’t really know how to reach out. Texts grow awkward when you can’t meet up. Work was overwhelming. The military really didn’t help, either. They fucking drilled me all day. Down the years, we got new phones, new numbers, too.

I know being in person is very important to Sunshine. Texting is the last thing she enjoys to begin with. We’d always call each other over. „Where are you, honeypot?“ — the only thing she’d have to write.

Namjoon didn’t mind her being at the studio. We spent a lot of afternoons in the Genius Lab. She’s not clingy, but quite touchy, that way. I admit I’m all too similar in a quiet place, and maybe even more than years ago. Because this place is so sterile and rotten at the same time.

Plot twist, now here she is, with the hair down and the lids batted low. She’d wear it up at university. But today, she ran a curl or waving iron through it, whatever’s used to make that kind of vintage hairstyle. The bleach is actually light, honey-toned. Much less aggressive than what I��ve been using before prison.

My hair probably looks terrible, and frizzy, and half-grown out. We only get hand mirrors once a day because some inmates would make weapons from wall mirror shards otherwise. It takes three weeks to get on the prison barber schedule and you need to pay extra for color. It’s not like they have the sharpest equipment either.

To see Sunshine at that table having put so much effort in her appearance makes me feel ashamed. Even the wardens that look after themselves the most, and they have enough salary for that, are a joke compared to it.

Her way of leaning on the chair is so confident. She should be sitting on me as we speak, but this is about the worst way of meeting again.

„Didn’t sound good in the text. The train from the coast is less than an hour. Namjoon talked a lot about how it happened on the phone. Got extremely agitated about it. Spoke really fast.“

I can imagine that Namjoon really dumped it all on her because he doesn’t really have anyone to talk to about these things.

„He seems to be the only one who really believes me.“

„The only one? Not really, no.“

That realization comes as a cold, deep stab in the back.

„He— doesn’t anymore? Why did Namjoon suddenly—“

„Hey. Cool it, boo. Shh. I mean I believe you as well. Makes two people. Of course he does.“

I think I’m really starting to think off track too much. Can’t really blame myself. Namjoon has no reason to change his mind, he always stood firmly behind my pledge. But I really don’t want to embarrass myself in front of her. I’m already pathetic enough this way.

„Sorry… rough day.“

And that coffee is making me even more nervous than before. And still, I drink it. That cup of dark gold which seems to encapsulate everything outside of this place. It makes me less tired at least. And I won’t taste anything like it for the time being.

„It would surprise me if you had a nice merry time in here. Don’t you apologize.“

I’m just mumbling, and I can’t look at Sunshine. If she at least told me I look like an idiot and we got on with it, maybe I could relax.

„See,“ she goes on, arms crossed. „You’ve always been all smartypants. You always think twice. Except! When you play basketball. I’ve seen it often enough. That’s the only time I saw you having any reflex at all.“

„Ah… I guess that’s true.“

„You’re ambitious in music. But the least likely thing you do is run out there to set something on fire. You’d rather write a track and call it a day. The Yoongi I know, way too soft-hearted. It simply can’t be you. You’d have to be hardpressed to become a domestic terrorist all of a sudden. Most you’d do is vent. It was somebody else. End of discussion.“

A voice like a wall. That’s the conviction I know of her. If the judge would have had not even a tenth of it, I might have gotten ten years less. But that’s wishful thinking.

„I’ll really become old with that sentence. You really shouldn’t affiliate with me anymore,“ I shake my head, and my hands cling to the coffee cup as if they were frozen around it, despite the comforting heat. „I’m locked away. They decided. There’s no chance.“

„Not if some new evidence shows up.“

Same old. Namjoon said the exact thing two years ago. At least optimism looks good on her. Namjoon knew he couldn’t help even one bit and the remorse for that is probably making him go as insane as yours truly in here. Sunshine being driven into a similar fate makes me more worried for her than I’m worried for my predictable state.

„They already rolled up the case twice“, I knead my fingers against each other. „I got enough debt from it. 20 years in here, Sunshine. I can ruin my life by getting dragged into this. But you shouldn’t.“

„You sound like you could really opt into this. So what if I’m still here anyway,“ her brows shoot up all questioningly at me. „I’m sitting right in front of you. I was abroad for long enough. We promised to meet again some day. And some day is now. If you’re here instead of the studio, then so be it.“

Although I never thought this was possible, it dawns on me that it’s probably harder to persuade Sunshine not to step foot in here than convincing the jury of my innocence. If I’m honest, a part of me is glad about it. But there’s the other part, too.

„I can’t do anything about it. Nothing. I never expected you to dig in this case. It could be extremely dangerous. It’s not that I don’t like you visiting and believing me. Okay.“

„You don’t look like you have any other visitors. Even Joon is afraid to come here.“

„You might see why.“

Officer Lee’s scrutiny from the back of the room is only the tip of the iceberg. I don’t think she can imagine what goes on during the weekends on floor three, or days when the lockdowns are just lifted.

„Eh. I do. But fuck I care,“ Sunshine blows a hair strand out of her face. „We didn’t see each other for so long. I want to visit you. Just protect yourself well. We both don’t want more shit regrets than we already have. I’m making the best out of this. I came here as soon as Namjoon told me where you are.“

„Sunshine, I know that we’re on one page. I just understand that this place is the worst.“

„You think I don’t, with a green floor like that? That’s the ugliest piece of interior I’ve ever seen.“

She’s right, maybe that’s all you need to know already. It’s a puke-ish kind of green designed to make you feel just like that. The more they build a place that should make you repent, the higher the rate of relapse. The smell in here can make anybody want to get back at this place.

„Yeah, the floor is fucking terrible. But nevermind. I’m saying you should watch out for yourself. We are both limited in here. Even visitors have no guarantee for anything. Most of the guards are corrupt. They’re selfish. There are Level 5 criminals in here. Even in this room right now. It’s already extremely generous that we can see each other.“

„Yoongi… honey,“ Sunshine unwraps her arms, folds her fingers into mine. „You’re cute when you try to baby me. I can see all that. It’s even more a reason that you shouldn’t rot in here. Just play the game and leave the rest to Sunny dear sitting across the table. Do I even need to say damn pretty please for once. Let’s enjoy our minutes here, okay. We don’t have much left.“

Very well then. Apparently, there is some kind of miraculous way I didn’t think about. If she wants to dream about it, it’s not like I can prevent her, and I can’t prevent that part of me either. I just hate that it would need a kind of illusion to keep us together like this to blend out the fact that there are actual extremely dangerous people all around us, and I’m in here for two entire decades.

But fair enough. She’s across the table. Sunshine, living and breathing, here at DDC, a place few death rows short of being a hell on earth, with the tip of her heel dangling against my leg underneath the table just like back then at the bars where we went out. There are so many memories colliding in my head, things I tried not to reminisce about.

All you can ever do is focus on the moment. We didn’t even do normal conversation yet. Even more idiot points for me. But it’s sort of ridiculous to talk about the weather given that I had no glimpse outside today. I try to come up with a good question, but the coffee has me spill out the cringiest things before I can give it a better wording.

„I’m,“ I start, hoarse, somehow, „actually curious how you’ve been. Don’t get me wrong, I… I thought we’d lost sight of each other entirely.“

„I won’t hold it against you if you didn’t think of me all day in here. You have too many problems for that. I get what you mean.“

That Sunshine is well aware that the possibility of loving her would make my stay even more of a torment is both helpful and a reason why the bitterness of the coffee’s aftertaste is starting to actually show.

„To the point as always. You do look like money talks.“

„I came back from Europe in 2016. Got a Masters. In film. Built up a store in Seoul. Traded bedroom interiors. Expanded to Busan. Bought a shore house.“

„Large?“

„Small enough to be cozy. Large enough for a Mae West style swan bed should I ever get my hands on one.“

She always had an interest in these Hollywood things, I knew she wouldn’t ditch that over the years. I’m feeling more nostalgic than I thought myself, if you can say that. Sunshine always came to the movies with her little polka dot dress and red ribbons on her heels. She took me out for dinner at a retro café once to eat bagels. When we went out rowing past the spring pavilions and trees in the southern districts, she’d ask me to put my hand between her thighs while the boat would just rest on the flat waves. She looked at me just like she does now. Her lips do that little curl. That I admire her consistency so direly reminds me that I should be producing as we speak myself. But no, I’m here, where bagel is a foreign word.

„Must be nice. But where’s the catch? You’ve always been thrill-seeking. No way you just sit on the porch and watch the birds for fun.“

That came out more sour in tone than I wanted it to. I’m too used to hearing people speak nothing but angry nonsense.

„Come on, honeypot. Just ask me if I had any guys. The face you’re making right now is not just about the house. You wanna know who I was with.“

She does another lip curl. Seeing right through me as always. At least we’re honest.

„Dammit, Sunshine. Okay.“

„To tell you the truth,“ she plucks a crumb off my shirt, „I tried out some blind dating. I know that’s a bit unlike me.“

Back in the day, she always insisted she decides by how hot and heartthrob someone looks if she wants to take him out to begin with. But a blind date? It is unlike her. Oh Jesus Christ.

Sunshine always decides by eye first and has parameters that are wildly distinct, if not demanding. Everything else is out of character. Knowing that and the fact that she’s sitting here — I can’t say it doesn’t flatter me a little.

„Tried out… who?“

I don’t really want to know, but then, I do. It’s so weird to be stuck here.

„Some elite sons in town. Dad had some whimsical suggestions on the phone.“

„Oh man…“

„I know, right. Basically, three of them. Dad just had one idea after the other. He’s quirky. Actually arranged something. I thought, maybe they enjoy me talking about Cary Grant, maybe they present themselves nicely in a certain way, and so on. What do I find?“

„Um. Probably idiots.“

„You got that right. Tall and awkwardly dressed, exact same choppy haircut. You know, with the short rancid fringe. The weird forehead, the incomplete eyebrows, all that. Sharp suit so they can hide their lack of shoulders. Shiny ties with geometric nonsense on them. You can guess how predictable those guys are if you even hear them talk for a minute. No taste in Rennaissance statues or anything. Insensitive, totally bland, calculated bores, sly, cheeky. Very strange pattern. Last time I took dad’s suggestion. But I think he realized. You know how it goes.“

„Guy worth a ton, actually useless.“

„Hm, hm. And they all have such modern houses. No life in there. Square as they are, odd stuff.“

Modern houses with greasy dudes in them, picking the same style of suit every day. I have to almost laugh. I can imagine Sunshine pacing through some guy’s 120 million minimalist block of geometric cement with a judgy squint on her face.

I have to catch myself trying to remember the last time I checked my face in the mirror, hoping my eyebrows to be oh well, complete, hopefully. I think they are. They’re actually pretty dense and dark, I think. No weird forehead as far as I can tell, either. It’s not like people tell it to your face. But the choppy hair you can be objective about, at least. My bangs are much longer than that. Since I came here, anyway.

„Long story short. All boring,“ she carries on. „These kinds of people have no idea what I’m all about even when it’s all right before them. I could show up on the date with Eartha Kitt and we would not talk about Eartha Kitt. Like how can you not?“

If anything, Sunshine is the most obvious person in the world. That actually makes things much easier, or apparently not. So that’s puzzling. I’m shifting around clueless in my seat. The story isn’t over yet.

„I’ll tell you,“ Sunshine continues again. „None of the guys can row a boat in a way that’s romantic at all. It’s all about getting to the end of the river as fast as possible apparently. My fucking veiled hat flew off. It’s still diving with the frogs as we speak. It took me five months to find one like that in Seoul. Good-fucking-bye. So don’t think too much about having competition. Much like I don’t.“

All tension drops from my body with that one sentence. She’s single.

By the sounds of it, nothing serious beyond a first date happened to begin with. I always assumed my rowing skills were just lazy, but maybe that’s the key. When I think about it, I love the thought of Sunshine with a veiled hat. How fast do you even have to row to make it fucking fall off.

Why’d you go on a date with unwashed hair to begin with. Even I manage to shampoo every day and I’m in here, the lowest circle of hell. Some guys only think about themselves. You can’t help a bumpy forehead, but why would you make a date some kind of show-off race for yourself instead of enjoying the time. That just goes against all principles of being together.

„You’d not be here otherwise,“ I say, eyebrows rising — a bit tentatively for now.

„Finally you shoot back.“

„Am not touching a single gun for all I care. I just wanna know what drives you here.“

And I’m starting to understand it. Unlike Lee said, Sunshine is not here to have my throat slit by a Level 4’s rusty shank knife while I’m sleeping. I can tell just how much he’s projected. They do play with your self-worth.

„I did run into Namjoon on vacation. In Seoul. He told me about a more interesting man than these three shoulderless infestations. Someone who coincidentally took me out to the movies more than once. Can we guess who that is?“

„Hah, Sun…“

I smile into the coffee mug.

„So now I’m here. Unfinished business. We’re not moving about anymore. Got enough loose ends to tie up for good. Actual time to write letters. We’ve grown up. I’m not doing ribbons anymore, and you have a big tape to finish. Yes: You’re here. But let’s do fucking adult things.“

I, in fact, will not move around much, so, well. But besides that, maybe it’s a fair point. Fucking adult things. I’m turning 30 soon. More wasted years.

At least my body still perks up at the mention of letters. I only got some notes from Namjoon the first weeks, and those were as cryptic, as emotion-filled as can be. I didn’t know what to answer besides that I need money for necessities, that it’s terrible here, and there’s no way to do music. Which obviously Namjoon all can’t fix.

If anything, it burdens him twice as much, worries weigh heavy on him. So the reply was brief, not much of substance, and likely news — which went in circles anyways — that made Namjoon twice as head-in-his-hands as he was before, including myself. So we stopped writing for now and feel bad anyways. In our position, you really can’t win.

„Do I actually have any taste in Rennaissance statues?“

„You can tell gay Italian artists apart. Don’t act like you’re boring. Pat yourself on the shoulder for once. It’s wide enough for that. I got eyes and ears.“

If any of the other inmates had a clue about all that, I’d immediately get ignored and outcast. I start to understand why Sunshine dressed up with such stuff and chaotic jewelry, it distracts all outsiders from anything else.

It does look like something drove her back to me because she liked it when we dated. Which seems more and more painful— knowing it’s a situation that even her insistence or bargain talents cannot solve with the snap of a finger.

„I’m not fishing for compliments. Just haven’t seen any art in a whole year. ’xcept you right now if that’s alright to say.“

For starters, I shouldn’t get high on prison machine coffee. That stuff makes you manic. Get back to your senses, Yoongi. Fast.

„Aha. Always charming. Orange’s great on yourself. Don’t get me wrong. I’d rather see you in all black as always. Would have paid a bail to see you back in your sandals, love.“

„Orange doesn’t suit me, Sunshine. I look like a mess.“

I don’t like how the words come out so candidly, at the flick of a switch in mood. This place can’t handle vulnerable truths, but they do come out when even one particle of culture from the outside world does manage to push into these halls. Or maybe it’s just her presence. It makes you admit to things.

„You’re a fine man, okay. Look at your hands. The face! Shoulders. Always had nice eyes.“

„Please don’t, Sunshine. I’d feel worse if you’re here out of pity.“

„You do look fucked up. Doesn’t mean you suddenly aren’t attractive anymore. Pretty guys are always pretty. I don’t pity you as a person. I still think you’re handsome and you’re still Yoongi. The situation is the pity part. There’s a difference. These people are playing with your self-worth. You can’t even handle your coffee anymore. This place is bad for you. But you’re still sweet. Those things don’t change.“

Her fluffing up my hair makes the guards flinch. But they’re probably prepared. Sunshine, smart she is, could also communicate with her outfit that she’s a raging eccentric with the most unpredictable antics, stubborn and goal-oriented. All reasons why I like her, that hasn’t changed at all either. She’s a Leo. I know that everyone in the visitor hall wants to have her.

„You’re teasing me. Leave that to the newbies.“

Every now and then, inmates are shipped from Jeju Detention, and they test out their place in hierarchy. The Level 2s and 3s tend to stop them and take them under their wing, but it’s been nothing but trouble and black eyes from wardens and TV admission cuts.

„Nothing stops me, hon. Deal with it. And I’m not here to mess with you, I’m here to get the name of the fucking guy.“

And now it gets dangerous.

My voice drops even lower, half whispering. Whatever project Sunshine takes on, she punches through. Behind the cooing is a steel fist.

„The guy…“

„Uh-huh.“

„I can’t.“

„Listen to me. You know how it goes. Money means lawyers. Money means you might wake up on my Rennaissance couch next fall. I pinch your bodybuilder ass, you make a nice breakfast, we listen to good music, Namjoon arrives for coffee and tangerine cake at 4. Your parents can go outside their house again and we can see the movies like we used to. So.“

„I want to be on your couch. But it’s not like I can tell it here. Sunshine, please don’t go head first through the wall. It’s seriously dangerous.“

„Not if you wear a helmet of hairspray like I do. And anyway. All the reasons to do something so we can talk in private somehow. You know, as they say. Make it so.“

She really wears a lot of hairspray. All these 1930s styles have always been Sunshine’s thing, to the point where she experimented with hot rollers and I got involved in the morning. She doesn’t burn her hands, it’s just been a basic courtesy. I’ve spent quite a couple morning afters at her student flat back in the day and it’s been a vintage shake by then already. I can imagine how her house looks now. She really succeeded to take the leap. I envy Sunshine, but that she wants to have me around there is a sweetener to my thoughts.

„Don’t think I don’t appreciate your support. I really wish my parents weren’t affected.“

„Everybody needs a little hand, especially soundcloud rappers. And I’m just terrible in the kitchen. I would bail you out under the excuse of hiring a proper chef.“

„Do your cinnamon rolls still collapse past the first ten minutes?“

Sunshine baking stuff has often resulted in a clogged oven which even Namjoon’s regular household mishaps could not beat.

„Don’t even ask about it. Eh.“

„I’d be willing to make them for you. If you promise not to wild out too much in here.“

„Honey bun. Listen. It’s worth the risk to turn 20 years into 20 months or so. And if you mean your fellows looking. I’m just here for you, jot it down. And we’re not doing scan calls behind some glass, I come here.“

„I hope you know what you’re doing. I want parole, not five years more.“

„That’s in both our interests. 25 years without coffee scent in my house sounds terrible.“

Sunshine only drinks tea.

„I can give you the details soon enough… somehow. I’ll try to come up with a way.“

„If the prospect of good coffee gets you going, Min Yoongi before prison is still in you, hm. I’m sorry this is so unfortunate.“

„Please don’t leave, angel.“

I’m not sure why I said that. She seems to take it in stride.

„Another 30 minutes would be nice, I know.“

Sunshine’s gloved hands in mine feel even more precious now. The guards are already preparing to escort out all the visitors, the atmosphere is loaded and emotional. I’m actually more nervous than times when we get a new inmate, or when I try to beat off at night trying not to wake and anger anyone. I can’t help but think how the nights will be even harder now that she came to me.

„Will you come back?“

„Thursday next month. Pinky promise, honeypot.“

She says that in a flirty tone, very low and raspy. Maybe she picked up smoking? Probably not. Sunshine was never the type to ruin her clothes with acid smoke. They’re way too old and far too expensive to do that. I wonder how she can say something so childish in a way mature as can be.

„You’re the best.“

„Maybe they let me into your cell. It’s not like I can’t pose as your girlfriend.“

„You really—“

The prospect of just an hour alone with her is enough to send me down a spiral. Prison makes your mind a teenager. I think about all the things we could do. I wonder what she’ll be wearing. I wonder what perfume she’ll put on. So she’s really not dating anyone else in the outside world. Or does she? Hell… the fact that she drove here is enough to know I have a chance. She’s so rich and so busy, she’d not come here for condolences only. Or would she? My mind is going in circles. Sunshine poking me right in the chest with her finger snaps me back to the reality of the grey room.

„Hey. Why the fuck not. These video calls they’re offering are shit.“

„Maybe… we can play chess like we used to.“

„That’s right, boo.“

Sunshine bends down to kiss my forehead. I’m so dizzy. A lot of people around are mumbling.

„You know you make me very lucky.“

She pinches my cheek in response. The guards get in formation, some more enter the room. Just two minutes left with Sunshine. She looks at the clock as well. It looks like one that’s used at schools, it couldn’t be any more plain. But the meaning behind the minutes could be weighed up with diamonds and gold around here. The chief warden announces it’s time for goodbyes.

„Okay, so. I’ll tell your mom that your shoulders got bigger. Maybe she’ll send another letter, then.“

She just knows how to make me laugh. If anybody else said that, I’d probably break out in tears.

„I’ll need ’em to carry your new 1920s wardrobes up the stairs, okay.“

If I’m not mistaken, those are her favorites. She mentioned it in passing when we had some liquor in the studio and danced all night and day.

„You’re still so cheesy.“

Her smile is so sheepish, I’m so glad she came.

„Mark my words. And…“

„Hm?“

„Sorry I called you that. I’m just in here for way too long.“

„I have no problems getting called angel. M’kay. Something else important?“

„We wrote in June. He’ll finish the mixing. You should ask Namjoon to have a listen.“

„Nothin’ I’d like more. I’ll see you, rowing champ.“

„Maybe I can dive for your hat one day.“

The guards ring a bell, shout through the room. We embrace hard across the table, then Sunshine rises to leave under dozens of keen eyes. Two wardens frame her, functioning as a guide to the door. But between us, the lingering eye contact is like a rope pulled apart for as long as it can until it snaps.

There are still too many things to say. It’s another month without her. I’ll probably go crazy. Meeting up brought many good things and hopes in the last 60 minutes, but probably makes the next 43,200 of the following month even harder. Hell, I’m already counting these things. If I wasn’t at the point of calculating every second already, I sure am now.

That a lot of the other inmates saw us this way doesn’t make it easier. I feel exhausted by how they watched us. If anything, that will be the biggest challenge. The last thing I wanna do is brag about her or get some tattoo of her name because that’s bad luck. People around are already telling me they never saw me talk like this for the entire year. Prison gossip, that’s basically wildfire. Maybe it’s been a terrible idea Sunshine came here in the long run. Her PDA leaves nothing left to imagination, either. Everybody can see that she’s certainly not neutral.

Whether she really comes back or leaves, either will hurt, for different reasons. That she even entertained the full hour with me looking and speaking pathetic shit like that stings from having to blend out she might have done it out of moral pity. But Sunshine really didn’t seem like she’ll go home and pat herself on the back for visiting me just because. And it’s not like anybody could brag about seeing a falsely convicted arsonist who’ll return as an old broken man because oooh-that’s-so-sexy. I trust Sunshine that she’s not doing it so she can tell her friends a story.

Officer Lee’s grip on the fabric of my uniform seems twice as brutal as before. I couldn’t give him the satisfaction of Sunshine being some kind of lawyer with a vendetta. And he thought I was in trouble. Sunshine is far too proud and unbending to play that game. But that she couldn’t treat me horribly, or even just act like that, feels like a soothing thought. A thought that helps me endure getting pushed all the way back to my cell. I’ve lost all measure for what affection is, so the afterimage of her taking my hands like that is unusual, but somehow, makes them feel warmer now despite this whole place being stone cold.

After spending an exhausting 5-hour shift in the kitchen stirring soup, I get called to the lobby. It turns out Sunshine deposited a hefty sum of money. Four figures, an amount Namjoon and I always dreamed of raking in within five or six weeks at best with a proper album. It’s enough to buy as many phone calls and gym shorts and deodorants as available in here, or probably even more. It’s not something I can instantly believe. A lot of people at the penitentiary would go the most extreme lengths to get their hands on money like this. I’ve already wondered if Sunshine was a figment of my imagination, but the digits are tangible before my eyes. I wouldn’t be surprised if I just hallucinated her, still. It’s too good to be true.

The languid kiosk staff looks trustworthy enough not to pass on my new bank balance to the next best gang member, but I can already see all kinds of issues coming my way. If I don’t hide this information and the items I buy well enough, I’ll get ripped off faster than I can breathe. Many level 4 criminals are nothing short of experts at smelling the presence of cash and doing something about it with the help of group dynamics. No discretion? The wardens have to clean me from my cell floor by tomorrow if I’m not bribing someone myself or paying something ‚extra‘ for the sharks. It’s better to scarcely buy things acting like nothing has changed.

At least fifteen prayers and one sweat breakout later, I swear I’ll be careful with it to myself and invest it in a postage stamp. I really want to write. I’ve lost most of my manners and words in here, but if she says I’m not dumb then I can at least manage to pen something, can I. It’ll help me calm down and look less stressed hopefully. It’s too idealistic to hope that all of this flies under the radar. The repercussions are already in the air. If the group visit room wasn’t under intense surveillance, who knows what would have happened.

Just seeing her meters short of very young and aggressive guys who yell way too much at night and love to cause trouble, and some level 3s who basically work for 5s — I’m in the wrong type of place, the worst possible. Nothing more terrifying to see Sunshine close to wife beaters and sex offenders. Nobody can technically leave their seat without personnel immediately reacting, but I still wish I would be the kind of person who was much more protective in the way I come across. Maybe I was some years ago, but in here, and since I’ll turn 30 soon enough, it’s a different story.

Sunshine is both extremely brazen in how she looks, and talks, and acts, without any apologies. I wish I had a pinch of her confidence in here instead of adapting and retreating so much. At least it’s better than becoming the next best Grandstander Yard Bully because that’s the other side of the spectrum and seemingly the only other choice. Since I neither look like it and lost most of my sharp tongue in the chow hall within the first three months, I’ll stick with what remains of me and put in on paper for her. And it’s not like I can’t work out four times as hard in the evening. Which will get noticed as well and I hope not too many people will connect the dots about.

The banker makes some strange faces before spewing shit about how I got such a ‚sweet bee buzzing around you, with all that money honey‘. I tell him not to dare look at Sunshine but leave it at that. don’t want the full 20 years. Talking smack to staff gets you charges and more mistreatment than necessary. Wasting Sunshine’s money on that would be like some kind of heresy. He says he’s just joking, but that I should watch out, „you know, in general“. As if he’s not the one participating in that. It’s already enough to bear meeting Sunshine in the group room with the most intimidating people whose registers I know too well from keeping my eyes and ears open at the chow hall.

The next week passes with people looking at me differently. I could exchange extra TV hours and shirts against peace from a Level 4 ring boss who got wind of me replacing my kitchen-goo-ruined sneakers with new ones. I could curse his lackeys out or be smart and cooperate, offering something they really need. Getting respect for standing up against the big ones and risking a shattered rib are a too slippery slope at this point in my sentence.

Only the longer I stay here, the more I can work my way up, if at all, but again under the jealousy of the new ones. At least people understand the principle of avoidance in here. But it’s not the final prison I’ll land in, this is only reception. When I’m with people who committed felonies in my category, everybody wants to know everyone’s business. And it’s not like everyone is Sunshine who believes you didn’t do it because she knows you.

I manage to get a haircut on Friday, pay for extra peroxide and a good shave. It really does make you feel much better. Sitting at the barber’s makes you feel like a real person. The only time I felt that during the entire year I spent at DDC was when Sunshine put her lips on my forehead. Seeing her was excitement mixed with panic because of the other people in the room — oh, how I want to see her without anybody else mumbling — but that moment outweighed it to me.

Maybe it was the meaning I ascribed to it. I put my thoughts on that into the letter. Hoping Sunshine wouldn’t feel offended by it. There are too many guys who have been involved in all kinds of trafficking and abuse around me, to pick up any jargon of that would be the last thing I want. It took three entire days to finish the letter. Or rather, until I was happy with it. I received one basically 9 days later and hid it from my cellmate. He was rumored to sit for snitching and having a new class 1 identity to get by in here. If he’s level 4 and the hidden gossip central of this tract, I’d not be surprised.

Sunshine was using the most beautiful baroque papers that she said her store is selling. Almost five pages, double-sided text, with actual ink. It’s the most luxurious thing I’ve seen in 12 months. She even put some perfume drops on the envelope. I’ve never smelled something like this in here. Those five pages must be the most-re-read piece of prose in history. I actually read it every morning when I use the bathroom and memorized the sentences by now.

Sunshine says I should come visit her newly equipped kitchen once I’m leaving DDC. There are enamel pans, and copper pots, and even a brand new cast iron wok pan in a normal size, not unlike everything that’s so gigantic and rough in the chow kitchen. Sunshine describing all of these things in detail makes me feel equal parts happy and depressed. But she finishes with saying it’s not relevant if it’s by the end of the year on early discharge, or in two decades, it’s not like an enamel pan wears down fast, and it’s adding to its intrinsic charm. I wish I could cook with her and distract myself at work with ideas about it. Maybe it’s building a castle of glass, but I accept it as a little dream world to ping pong back and forth with letters for now. We know we’ll do it out of distraction.

A lot of other inmates ask me about who it was as the visitor room, and wiggle their eyebrows, even congratulate me. It feels weird. I let them talk their talk as long as they only bother with their respect game. People assuming I must be anything special makes living there only worse because it draws attention from the influential guys who have been in there since 25, 30 years already. They want to know who I am and what kind of strings I can pull. Since the only thing I can do is release a mixtape at best and I say I’m a nobody, people suspect I must be some kind of spy trying to retrieve secret information. A lot of level 3s down the hallway only address me as „Hey Cop“ and „Coffee Boy“ whenever I walk past the cells to get to the kitchen for shift. I resent Sunshine and I don’t resent her. Because how could I. She made a lot of things better and gave me motivation to go on.

Every week, I sat down cuffed in Mrs. Park’s office. Not a single word to her about Sunshine. Thank God she’s an extern, she doesn’t know the gossip. Nor did I react to Junsu’s pestering.

ACT II

Best news of my life. Thursday next month comes with me getting a separate visitor cell. Actually, the day before.

It smells acerbic, damp. Like a run-down surgical suite. Or the dentist’s, with slightly more ugly green in it, and less air condition. But I’m still glad I do.

No cellmates around. Less noise. A high-up window facing East. Yes, a fucking window. It’s not too small in there, either. One generous bed with a strong metal frame in the left-hand corner. It’s actually a bit bigger than the bunk I spent the year on. My height is paying off: That cell, and that bed, can handle two people.

The hours simply don’t want to pass. I brushed the living hell out of my teeth. Showered twice Wednesday evening. Much to the anger of the novice warden, Chang, who proceeded to cut my breakfast and extra ramen for the next day to compensate the water cost. He didn’t let me go to the recreation cage either. Guess why: Lee told him so.

Pacing around in a space as small as my former apartment bathroom doesn’t exactly get my blood moving, at least not full-blown. Good thing is, and I thank whoever made this happen, I got my own space for Sun and I. And at least a glimpse of daylight. I managed to fucking beg the staff to get me lip balm and a safety razor at the commissary. They charged five bucks more so I need to take some extra shifts on the weekend.

All this absolute crap for being at the wrong place. Can’t even get fucking baseline stuff and some shit to get my hair in at least a tolerable shape. It’s sort of just doing whatever it wants. I can only use water and bar soap to control it. Sun wants to get with me and I look like an unsightly caveman in bright orange. Bags under the eyes for free because some Level 4 blockhead decided to get into trouble talking back at Lee, Tuesday night. Several times. I couldn’t sleep one bit. Nobody has seen the guy at breakfast.

I have to strip and squat down to get searched before entering the cell. That humiliation I can take. Eyes closed, I imagine it’s Sun’s gloves. They’ve done worse kind of searches when I was still new here. I get the allowance, though, and Chang locks the door twice. All I do is walk up and down, count the push-ups. The visitor cell is much better than the one I normally stay in in terms of its layout, but after a while — that’s about it. They basically ‚accommodate’ me for an entire day with the brightest ever overhead lighting so I can’t get any sleep, either.

The lunch passed through the door is an already half-spilled vegetable soup without any substance or major color to it. Basically clear pee. That one goes right down the sink once the warden has walked off, no way this is getting into my system. The bread that comes with it is actually pretty edible and gets half my stomach full, but it’s essentially dry with something unidentifiable smeared across it. All brown and yellow, some weird onion scent, which I’m scraping and cutting off immediately. Goddamn fucking hellplace.

Since they don’t serve dinner, I’ll wait it out until breakfast. Which gladly has some oatmeal and orange juice, and God fucking yes, two palm-sized pancakes. Kind of burned, but there’s cherry jam. Which has too much sugar in it, but it’s the only thing that’s ever really melted on my tongue in here. For lunch, less bean rice than I usually get. Lee is in charge of handing out the food trays today. He simply decided to pick out the least supple portion for me because ‚here — for our small guy‘.

I devour it and aggressively wash up, shave again, and try not to puke thinking about brown onions. I don’t have my writing things with me in here, so all my spontaneous ideas and melodies stay at the back of my brain and turn hazy after some time. Maybe they’re lost forever since my ears get a regular jump scare from some howling inmates or doors being unlocked, which erases all my other thoughts. So much about less noise. I’m starting to think it’s worse in here.

The only thing I can’t forget is Sun. Against the color of the wall, her image remains in clarity before my inner eye. Since we got to sit so closely opposite one another, I could memorize her eye color down to every nuance. The kind of contacts she’s wearing, the way her skin looks like, how her eyebrows move. My mind clings to our over-the-table talk every waking hour. I try to imagine her stroking my face again over and over. Each memory I’ll replay like recorder.

There’s a loud scream half past nine going through the hallways, something I’ve never heard before. Chang trots up and down the floor afterward. There’s a dog barking from somewhere. It’s raining non-stop. Han seems to talk a lot outside, but I don’t understand what he says. More screaming follows. I crouch in a corner sitting on the ground.

I pretend as if she’s standing at the window just singing a bit. She invites me to stand up and dance. I say I’m horrible, we waltz together anyway. There’s a vinyl playing, I don’t know which, it’s pretty jazzy. Sun says I’m great as the record fades, and we dance again regardless. When I lay on the bed, pillow over my eyes and ears to drown out the noise, I imagine how Sun squeezes me from behind. Like hug. Yeah, she’s a squeezer. I pick up a book, head leaning against the wall. My mind wanders off to Sun bathing in a pool behind a house I don’t know, without her makeup on, drinking orange juice from a glass bottle until she turns toward me.

She splashes me with water while I’m biting into walnut ice cream from a cone, drinking canned green tea with artificial sweetener. Taken from the fridge just five minutes ago. Double the brain freeze, but I don’t care. Then I see me, rubbing Sun’s clit right through her red bikini while she’s drying off on a lounger in the shade. With just one finger, right on the spot, not straying for a second. Softly, but consistently pulsing. Dipped between her labia, legs squirming and winding, Sun telling me to never stop. I’ve gotten so into it, I’ve had this sudden thought for the last three hours, on loop. I add more details every time.

When I meditate on the bed, I act as if she’s busy in the other corner, typing something on her laptop. Sun ends up distracting me because she asks if I also want a snack, you must be so hungry honey, that makes two of us, so we walk into the kitchen together, where we kiss and raid the cupboard. Sun feeds me extra crispy, extra powdered cereal and the milk goes everywhere on my black hoodie. It’s almost like some kind of religious experience. I might be starting to understand why so many guys turn towards a belief in here.

When Park shows up on time to quiz me for an hour, ready to drill, crack, and mince my brain through fifty thousand psychological questions and methods and tricks and measures and scales and inventories, I pretend she’s Sun’s mom who I’m planning to ask for her daughter’s hand. I know Park is profiling me on whether I can accept visitors. I’m not fucking dumb.

When I work out later, sorting out my mind from the convoluted talk, I act as if Sun sits on the bed. Showering gown on, legs crossed. raving about the very first silent movies and how my thighs look so nice by the minute, asking if she can touch them. More push-ups. Leg raises. Sit-ups. Using my body weight. I try my best to be grateful, but that word sucks. I pass out on the bed for 45 minutes after lunch.

I wake up suddenly remembering how we kissed on a swing near the pool. I try to picture the scent of that cherry jam again, and the pancakes, because I think that’s how she tastes like. My nose lost most of its memory since last year as well, so I have to try five times until I think I got it right. Right after I dismount from the swing, Sun asks me to tie off her bikini because she’s so on edge.

She wants to do all kinds of things to me and I know the tone of voice. The weather, not a single cloud in the sky. The occasional seagull. Sun has her own ice cream now, but this time, we share it, and I work up the courage to fully undress her. She says I ate so nicely, and wipes some cream off my nose even if leaving it like that would be cute. I can’t really say anything to her, it’s just stammering. I know it’s funny that I’m bashful, but she likes it.

With the most doting of her expressions on, Sun coos how I’m so shy and curious, and ends up choking me out on the lawn. Hard, my back on the cold grass. The kind when your head is briefly lifting off the ground and comes down with the hair a mess. I always think doing it gently would be pointless to how I work. She keeps going until I’m drenched in sweat and my legs are kicking, and my dick is way too hard to do anything with it. I fall asleep for another 15 minutes, dropping down a grey-black vortex.

I wake up, wash up. Painstakingly. I imagine Sun on all fours right on that lounger, legs closed, that’s how she feels it best. Umbrella overhead, me penetrating her from behind while she’s eating ice cream, just making her feel good. The moans are the best thing in the world. Really loud and no filter. Sun reacts to every little movement. Her body picks up on every change in touch. I hate it when I can’t see her face, but she’s tall, her neck is long. She turns her profile so nicely, and I love to give her waist all the attention it deserves with my hands holding it. Eye contact, all the way for five minutes, until she closes her eyes for a little while.

Since I got her off twice earlier, we’re exhausted and she’s bubbling wet. Sun asks me to add some of my spit on my dick just for the extra fun of it, so it would drip to the ground. I make sure my thumb is circling the very best spot. Third orgasm, I can get her there. The more I get my hand going, Sun tells me how nice it feels when she pushes back on my hips because they’re all warm and her skin is a little colder since the pool water evaporates.

„That’s so good, Yoongi.“

I make sure to move very deliberately so she’s comfortable. Her legs open just a little, so it runs down to her knees on one side. I tell Sun that she misses out on seeing her lips wet like that. Sun says, take your phone. I get a close-up and show her. Again she says come, make it a quick video. Like fifteen, twenty seconds. Just slowly going in and pulling out, and back, all making it seamless as good as I can. We’re just playing around with it for a while. Going super easy and being turned on like mad. I can feel how relaxed she is and also promise that I’ll dip in the water a bit later with her after we had something to eat.

The more we’re going on, the more her skin is warmer, and I love to stay deep inside her for a bit until she tells me to move again. My finger slips off her clit a couple times because she’s so runny. We go on anyway, and Sun loves the way I breathe. A slight gust of wind trails around the pool, just at the right time. Sun finishes the ice cream and goes on about how I’m really cute. Every time she moans, she squeezes me a little bit. It’s like a hug from the inside. With a little maneuvering, we manage to hold hands. I bend forth, kiss her upper back, ask what to do next. The screams of terror down the hallway cut so deep to the bone, I can’t continue the thought.

„Please! Please! Please!“

Distorted and gritting. It pries your skin off. The worst part is that nobody out there reacts.

I can’t sleep anymore. Sex drive, killed. Everything limp, cold hands. Now I really wanna throw up. I stare into the bright light until my eyes start doing weird things. My mind goes back to the loop of Sun splashing me with water a few times, but my ears have become too alert. I’m stuck in this room again, not the world of fantasy.

Sunshine gets escorted in by the wardens in the early evening and I almost get a heart attack. An unusual visitor time, but it seems like they wanted me to rot under the bright lights for as long as they could to wear me out. Not a chance. I’m wide awake, you fucks. I waited for this hour an entire month and hardly thought about anything else but this day way in the future. I peeled potatoes, I thought about Sun. I chopped carrots, I thought about Sun. Did maintenance in the yard, I thought about Sun. I realize that most of me did not physically live these 4 weeks in prison.

I could tell her way of walking by ear among 10,000 people. Hell, 100,000. Nobody walks like Sun. Wolf whistles all along the corridor, screams, taunts, yells of shock, banging on walls and doors from the cells that don’t have any solid doors but bars, unlike mine. Growling. Chaos. People going ballistic against their bars. I want to scream back, and I shake from how visceral my reaction is. But I don’t want to ruin it all before she even gets in. These idiots. I can hear the click of her heels and the way she sings behind the square peeping hole in the door to greet me.

„That’s my sweetheart in there!“

Oh, Sun. How I missed you. You don’t even know.

I can see a glimpse of her face, alongside two officers checking on me. She seems to ignore the guards completely. Instead, our eye contact twists the rope between us back together. Just that one moment would already be worth it, but I’m so glad we can spend more time.

Keys turn. The peephole closes again. Then, the mighty bolts of the door lock shift back. The noise is as dull as ever, but right now, it feels twice as blunt to my ears. I’m shaking even more, one hand grabs the other to hold it down.

„Don’t do anything crazy in here, doll.“

Officer Lee, right next to her and first to come in, licks his lips.

God no.

Not that bastard again.

„We searched you head to toe with good reason,“ he continues, and I hate the sardonic tone already. „Now you, Min. Act weird, you get cuffs. We collect your entire bank balance if you do shit you shouldn’t do.“

The other wardens clear their throats and stifle a laugh. I know where the money goes when I mess up.

„In fact,“ Lee dials up the lighting of the room from the outside of the cell now, „you better not have too much fun. The bathroom in our kitchen begs for a cleaning. I got a fucking job to do. You can get assigned for that in ten seconds. Count your fucking blessings. Who knew you were doing some hypergamy shit.“

He glances up and down Sun’s body with some kind of ambiguous expression. It forces me to look on, literally feeling I’m about to implode. Meanwhile, she just looks at me instead. It’s encouraging enough to pull my own gnarling eyes away from Lee. God bless my Cherry. She’s too eyes on the prize for someone as low as him. We say nothing at all. Sun’s busy painting a little smile on my face.

„Anyway,“ Lee turns. „Do your pathetic nonsense in here.“

Lee is always ready to respond to people who talk back, but awkwardness has him beat. He just doesn’t anticipate it. Brilliant. She can pull the rug from under anybody’s feet.

„Yeah,“ the other guards chime in as well, retreating to the hallway. „No business with weirdos. Han says, Min’s gone crazy. Like real loopy. He’s seeing things.“

On the doorstep, Lee pulls out the keys from his black vest pocket and turns over the shoulder one last time.

„You don’t look so good these days, do you, Min. Careful, Lady. Your man’s acting like a wimp. Who’d have thought the stoic guy would go all nutty like a patient. Just let me know when to shorten the visit time. My break’s always half past 12.“

My blood is at its very boiling point. Now he’s trying the psych route. It’s the same poking tone that the profilers used, the people who screened me upon coming here. First step is wearing out, the second, destabilize. The third, breaking the person down. We’re at stage two in this conversation. I’m pretty sure who the real fucking weirdo is and it’s not me.

Thank the heavens, at least they close the damn door. Finally. It actually dawns on me now. Park really said yes and let me have visits by myself. It all worked out. Sun’s here. It’s happening. We meet alone. I rise from the bed and rush to the spot where she stands, next to the sink, in a split second.

„God, Sun—!“

„Baby, hey!“

She hugs me, hands around my shoulders. My hands in the curve of her back, halfway up. Warming my fingers up for those split seconds. They’re fucking icy, feeling twice as heavy as they usually do.

I’m standing there so awkwardly and full of shock. Breathe out, so hard. My back becomes less stiff. Memories of the first visit come back to me, when we said goodbye with a rough embrace. I’m clueless for seconds. I think my body forgot how to do all of this. Even if I wish it would be different, physical affection is a lot to take for my mind.

This whole day has worn me out so much. I can’t tell if I’m seeing double. Maybe she’s not even here but my brain tells me she is. Maybe I just came up with that story and I’m still passed out in the corner. Too many thoughts like a sudden waterfall. Concerns, and anger, and the ever-shaking hands. I don’t know when I got this insecure.

„Are you okay? Forget these things… That CO is an ass.“

For me it’s already daunting and I’m used to prison, but for her, it must be the inconvenience of her life. I really want to say I’m sorry for all this. I stroke Sun’s back carefully, until we depart from hugging.

„Easy, easy,“ she now unties the belt of her trench coat, actually more unfazed than I expected. Voice calm, and raspy as ever. „These people all dance to the beat of the track. That’s their problem.“

„You got a lotta guys by their balls, that’s true.“

This all happened in such a rush. She’s here literally one palm length away from me so suddenly. I help to strip the sleeves off her arms, level off the garment. But my fingers don’t get very far without me almost sucking in air out loud. Under the relentless lights from above, it hits me in the face even more so.

She’s wearing a whole set of white corsetry underneath.

Nothing except the coat had covered it.

„Sun, that…“

Jesus Christ. The corset is just the beginning.

Below, long dark stockings that are slightly opaque. A white lace bra on top, cupping up her breasts on eye level to me. Black spike platforms below, the heel thin and tall, at least five inches. The hair in a neat chignon, roots all dyed, straight and sleek like a teacher. The nails dark and shiny, shaped like almonds. Sun put on a rose perfume that’s very deep, rough, and a punch in the nose for someone who forgot how roses smell at all. Her eyes, calm and cold, with softly curled lashes, have delicate mascara and brown smoked eye shadow framing them.

Her pupils… steadily dilating.

As if the bright light didn’t even exist in here. Did she take something? I don’t really want to think it’s because of me exciting her so much. That would be too unrealistic. I don’t look even slightly on par. I’d need a full designer tuxedo.

Up close, I can see her wine red lips lined with a slightly browner color. She’s so tall, I’ll overextend my neck just looking at her chin already. My hands don’t know what to do anymore and just float somewhere at my solar plexus level.

How on earth did she walk in here like this. Sun has hardly worn something like that, not to such a degree.

I can’t help but get turned on. She could make anyone lose their mind, let’s be honest. Sun just keeps catching me off guard. I know she hardly ever holds back, but she still managed to ambush me, and even make my daydreams in the kitchen about our Thursday look ridiculous.

„Guys by their balls? Including you. With all due respect. Now why don’t you pull me on that bed with ya. Come.“

No objections, Ma’am. I do just like she says, like a robot. Thumping heartbeat. Everything passes me by. My whole body says yes. I take her by the wrists, gently. She walks up to me, sits on my lap, legs crossed to one side — in typical style. Oh God. Her ass.

Neither the very bed we’re on nor me myself and I deserve even a millimeter of her. Lee did have a point with one thing. Sun is out of my league times ten. I do have to count my blessings, and they’re immeasurable in this moment. ‚Thursday next month‘ suddenly sounds like a harder drug than the ones I saw dealt on the yard.

„Sunny,“ I look her in the eye. „Did they do anything when they searched you?“

„Eh,“ she frowns. Sunshine’s voice being so suddenly unnerved makes me angry. I don’t have to guess why for long. „The coat stayed on. But I almost had to slap away a hand or two.“

„What!“

„Your staff is not professional at all. Least they’re tame like lambs after they see the designer bag. I even lied to one of those greenhorn interns that I’m your wife and he bought it, even though he kept being cocky. They had female staff for the rest. I had to leave the bag there. But it’s not like that’s the most important thing.“

Whoever was making Sunshine so uncomfortable should be promptly fired on the spot. It’s even more gnawing since I knew she wouldn’t be in safe hands and wrote it in the letter, to come around with even more care this time. My own hands, perhaps for that very reason, seeking not to distress her anymore, don’t want to close fully around her, but she guides them to do so.

„It sure ain’t, Cherry,“ I tell her. „You don’t even know. These sick fucking bastards, they got some nerve. I’ll get myself out of here. I’ll get myself out.“

And I’m literally swearing. Not a waking minute do I want to spend in here anymore. Not one filthy second. The fucking frustration. We’re caught like little birds in a net in here.

„Look who’s talking now. But leave it to me,“ Sun trails at my neck tattoos with her nails. I’m shivering, it stimulates me so much. Even that little bit of scratching is enough. „I’m not here to waste time talking about these people. Your part is making Sunshine a very happy girl.“

Sun’s voice is so husky again. She knows what she came here for, and I am lucky to provide it. In my current state, if I’m pragmatic, I don’t know how it’ll be like. Sure we’ve done this before, and I hope for some muscle memory to come back to me. I can’t believe she’s sitting on top of me, the sheer catching up I have to do makes my thoughts do somersaults. I knew I’d be lightheaded, but not this overwhelmed.

„Oh that I will,“ I say, and we put our foreheads together. „You know you can do anything you want with me.“

Without her gloves on, Sun’s fingers stroking down my nape becomes almost mind-numbing, teeth-gritting. I’m between passing out all over again and jumping to the ceiling. She really came because she gives a fuck about me. She did. I still have to convince my perception into this reality. The brutal intensity of her simple touch makes me bite down on my tongue. There’s no feeling like that in the outside world. It’s simply not possible. Sun takes her time to look me up and down, more composed.

„Touched up your hair, did you,“ she brushes across my bangs, sweeping them back. I can spend all day running a comb through and it springs right back to its original shape. But when Sun touches my hair, it magically does as she says. Her magic talent is that everything in her surroundings will do precisely what she desires, but that’s nothing new.

„New shirt. Freshly shaved. Great thighs I’m sitting on.“

I worked hard for days to pull myself together for this. What’s the bare minimum in the outside world is a public stunt inside DDC. I admit that her scrutiny thrills me. Teases me. Gets my hormones going, which I expected even less so given how empty-hearted my nights are. Sun’s eyes are as acute as ever. Holy fuck, they’re almost undressing me.

„I really like you as a blondie.”

“Really? My hair?“

“Looks super cute on you, huh.“

“No, it’s just fried and...“

“You look cute! You’re always nice. Look at you.“

Let’s be honest. A lot of guys at the studio would run for the hills. Sun is decisively superficial with these things. She is analysing every inch. Her taste is critical and so specific. Maybe that’s why I’m fascinated by her. I don’t know why. It’s a compliment. Maybe because she’s sitting on my lap. Not anyone else’s.

„Thank you, angel.“

How many tests I must have passed for her to return, it’s probably an entire Christmas wishlist. She treated Lee like he was basically air, as he deserves. The three rich guys got a whole run for their literal money. All gone with the wind. She’s been to Spain, to Denmark, France, and came back ready to mingle. What I’m looking at? The eyes of a hawk. Everyone gets sorted out. But the little voice of confidence that I have left says maybe her taste is so specific because it’s geared towards me. She literally just said I’m nice.

I absolutely wouldn’t mind being Sun’s husband if we’re frank.

„You’re very welcome, sexy.“

And I think I like her because she’s single-minded. The way her eyes are so focused is the type of silent praise that’s unmatched. I think my hair is not that bad.

„Put your pocket money to good use.“

„Uh-huh,“ Sun says. „Am absolutely feeling it.“

„Really, star?“

„Very. You’re looking all juicy tonight.“

Her voice carries a level of perversion that university Sunshine had yet to tap into. Back then, she was more casual. The person on my lap eight years later looks at me with the same type of desire, but also something that’s intimidating, something that makes you drool and say take me. Something that makes you wonder what she’s up to.

Ironically. I somehow can’t fully understand being together this way, in my situation. I’m still in kitchen shift mode. Which guy on this corridor is this lucky to get so strongly pursued. It’s already rare outside of these bars. In here? I should crawl on the floor in front of her. Why would you come to such a horrible place.

„Sorry for the eye bags and all. Can’t sleep in here.“

„Pinky promise I’ll knock you out.“

She trails at my collar bones with her left hand, puckering her lips. When she kisses my eyelids, the stress of a thousand hours seems to fade. And yet, when I open my eyes again, I’m struck by how perfect she is.

„Sun… I look like an idiot next to you.“

„If you insist on being an idiot. Least say you’re my idiot. And don’t pretend you need a lot of manicure to be sexy. You always still got it.“

Sun’s ‚don’t be so oblivious, I’m swooning‘ face has got to be one of the most rewarding things a guy like myself can ever see. I love her when she’s hard-headed and I love her when she’s cheesy. I wanna be hers, all the way, and I wanna show what I’m made of.

I really have to repeat to myself that she is 100% here for me. She’s beauty, she’s grace, she’ll tell it to your face. Sun woke up for 30 days wanting to be on this bed with me, too. It probably took forever just to style herself that way, just to make this pit of hell a little less drab.

She rejected three extremely wealthy guys for not being Min Yoongi. And probably lord knows how many people in her messages, or, at the store. Who did she pick? Glad motherfucking me, and I don’t even know why. The way she sits on me makes my thighs so warm, I forget the lack of proper heating I’ve had for the last year.

„You know you’re the best.“

„And by the way,“ she says. „Your next deposit’s already done.“

„A deposit!“

„Don’t save too much, will ya. Buy yourself the fucking things. Make sure you hide it well.“

„Oh my God…“

Sunshine plants her big signature kiss on my forehead. Then goes on to pepper my face. Lipstick, lipstick, and more lipstick. Everywhere. I’m so touch-deprived, it makes me shake and question if this is all going down in real time. The inmates will probably start a mass riot if I walk out with that amount of treacherous marks on me. Who in here can say he has a prison Sugar Mommy. Well, just little ole me. It must be the rowing. I have no other explanation.

So much cash. But I’ll risk cleaning that toilet if that means being able to punch Officer Lee in the stomach for messing with her money. Sunshine could probably get Lee to whack himself in the groin if you think about it, at this point I think she can make anybody do anything for her.

„If you want me to kiss your feet. Just say the word.“

„In a minute.“

Sunshine pushes her bra all up in my face. All I’m seeing, and all I’m feeling, is boobs, silk, and heat. Real bodily heat. Sun’s heartbeat is going really fast, which makes me hard, as if I absolutely wasn’t before. How excited she is for me gives me back an excitement I’ve stored away for as long as dozens of months.

Her breasts. They’re big and soft and lacy, the best thing I ever felt on my cheeks beside her lips and lashes. Over 390 days on that ratty cell pillow, reconciled in just seconds. But my body is honest. I could break out in tears every minute with that level of physical contact.

„Now how are we feelin’, you know, generally?“

I can’t see her oggling my arm tattoos, but I know she currently does, because I know Sun. That she’s so blatantly here to fuck me, I must be the luckiest and most ill-punished criminal in history.

„I— went to the doc on Monday,“ I mumble.

„Uh-huh. What’d he say?“

She retreats, my face now cold in the open again. The lipstick stains from my face are all over Sun’s cleavage now, so I try to rub them off with my thumb. If those get on her lingerie, they could and should give me five more years and I’d see the point. Never soil a woman. Sun is wildly amused at me rubbing back and forth there so awkwardly.

„I think, good things.“

„Oh, bless.“

She looks relieved. Genuinely. I can’t believe I have someone worry about me. In here.

„I’m all clean.“

„Responsible, are you, boo.“

„I try. But it’s like they don’t really want you to be.“

„Well fuck that.“

„That’s what I thought… you can ask for condoms there.“

Right in my pocket. Glossy, but plain gray packaging. Staff Chan begrudgingly gave them to me in the apothecary. I didn’t know how many to request. Four, five, I said. I got three, with a scorning eye to better use them. This place is so contradictory, it hurts. I’ll ask again for next Thursday even if they roll their eyes. I got a wife to make happy.

„Very well-organized,“ she nods. „Am impressed. You worked out, too,“ Sun smacks her hand flat across my biceps. „Gettin’ all meaty, Herc.“

For the first time, I can actually, audibly, laugh a little. Sun going on to shamelessly poke at my thighs and pecs through the thick orange fabric of my clothes still manages to leave a felt tingling imprint long after her finger withdraws to find another spot. If we had more time, I’d ask her to grope me for as long as she wants. But the clock doesn’t say something so nice.

„I play a lot of basketball on the yard. And, maintenance stuff.“

„That’s very Yoongi. Gotcha, hm.“

„If people aren’t busy shanking each other in the throat. And I guess you naturally buff up with those huge pots in the kitchen.“

„I bet you, baker man. And please protect yourself, Yoongi.“

„I will. But yeah… I hit the gym more.“

Lord knows how many of those ugly big pans I had to clean and hoist. At least it’s good for something. No knife in my throat yet, so. Avoidance tactic, all you can do. Pre-emptive. All else means body bag.

„Look at you, then. Can you actually lift me?“

„Lift you?“

My mind is too horribly jumbled to really put one and one together.

„Just for fun. Like bridal style. We’re married, apparently. According to the grapevine, of course. It’s wedding night, honeymoon start, you know, and all that.“

Oh. That kind of lifting. Right here, right now? In her own words, why not.

„Sure, Sun. One sec.“

Arm under her thigh, the other under her right arm. Up we go from that bed. Having her on my lap has got to be the nicest thing that’s happened to me in the last 5 years, but carrying Sunshine through the room casually while she’s giggling just tops it off.

Here I am with my glamorous lady teach looking wife, pacing in a prison cell in an orange potato sack myself — which my mouth promptly decides it’s time to lament. Sun insists we’re sexy regardless, pinching my nose all over.

„Fuckin’ lies, eh. You’d be hardpressed not to look hot,“ she twirls at my hair, probably another magic trick in the making.

„Don’t say that, Sun. I’m not used to it.“

„Hey. Gotta start somewhere. You know I’m proud of you.“

„Thank you…“

„Which includes how you look. All of this. You’re all my pride. That hasn’t changed. Okay?“

Something in my mind, and I have a hard time explaining it to myself, is more convinced than before. She’s so enjoying herself. With her legs dangling off my left arm, and how she plays with my bangs in our little ceremony here. There’s that carefree kind of chemistry. The time passes with a little more lenience. I can prop my head against hers and talk a little lower, but my voice is still so ripe with emotions that it’s hard to hide at all.

„I’m glad I got you.“

„Ah— So sweet, Yoongi.“

„Really am. Thank you for coming.“

How she’s pressed against me. It’s what I wish we could do for the rest of us existing, even if it’s on this shit planet. There’s got to be a little room for us just like this cell. Just Sun on my arms for long. I don’t know why I think that, but it feels like she’s the apple of my eye again. I do and I so want her to be. I cherish every second. Maybe she does teach me something.

While we banter, the clock slows. Sun describes to me everything up outside the little window until she bends down to kiss me. Teeth against my bottom lip for a moment, then full contact, but no tongue. A series of plump and breathy kisses follows. No work from my side needed. I know that Sun just likes that pouty lip on lip, repeating a couple times as it is. Since my left hand is all wrapped around her thighs, I notice how her legs are pressing together. That, and I’m guessing based on experience at the cinema, might be what I think it is.

„None of these boys,“ Sunshine twirls at my bangs, „could make me… You know. So what’s your secret.“

It is what I think it is. Sun’s all wet. From all that talk. Just inches away from me. Oh Jesus.

„So… It’s not true that I set the president’s house on fire.“

Again, my mouth just works on its own. I think it’s Suga junior talking. He pulls off the weirdest shit. Even Han couldn’t come up with it.

„Am not contesting, hon,“ she lets her feet dangle.

„And. You know what they wrote. I’m not the worst terrorist in history.“

„I know that for a fact. Don’t be silly here.“

„But. It’s true I might have… set something much nicer on fire. I don’t know how, to be honest.“

Suga junior is definitely the one that needs the restraining order instead. Life-long speech ban. I just wanna hide. Sun doesn’t look fazed at all. Entertained, even.

„You don’t say… That’s the secret? What’ve you been burnin’ up there?“

„If you— Ma’am, let my tongue show the rest, for the time being.“

„Oh, oh, naughty. You’re confident!“

I love her reaction faces. It’s not just Sun who can be cheesy. Adrenaline does shit to you. She always makes such big eyes at me. Maybe I do impress her more than I tell myself. I hope I do.

„Like it, Cherry?“

„Sounds promising.“

„Would be a pleasure.“

„Gimme a taste here, then. I like that spot, love.“

Sun points at her neck, and points at her lips, and I let my mouth do the work without a second of hesitation. I don’t care about subtle. Bad technique or testing out my shit, that’s literally not allowed. Straight to the good stuff. It’s something you simply can’t dare to forget, not in a situation like this.

The tongues deep intertwined. Arms around her as if I had to guard her from dropping off a cliff at the end of the world. We only have an hour. They can put me in the basement tract or beat me, at least I should keep my promise and walk out of this cell having gone as many extra miles as I could. I don’t walk up and down all day for fucking nothing.

I take in the fragrance, that amazing perfume on her neck. And her natural scent, her sweat, which mixes so well with it. Sun must’ve showered just before departure with the train because I can smell a specific shampoo on top of that. The way she prepared herself to come to me (and on me as she’s about to witness in a minute because I’ll give my fucking everything) has been so meticulous. Attention to detail everywhere. I bury my nose in her hair bun, and continue to lick, to suck, all across her neck to see with satisfaction how jittery her thighs are.

„Just like that… Oh my god, Yoongi.“

„S’that it?“

„More!“

I had no idea. This is the magic spot. Those are things we’ve hardly done back then, and we already kissed a lot. I better still got it and I better give her more. Full tongue, and the lips playing into it, and just some superficial teeth to stimulate her even more. Our little rendezvous sessions after going to the movies need to look like peanuts compared to this. Sun just playfully lifting my skirt, us taking pics fresh out the shower in towels, me being an anxious mess. I don’t know if I ever managed to just lift someone and hold them like that for this long, either. I can hate this place all day, and with good reason, but the workouts are five times as effective.

„Give me fucking more! Oh my God…“

Just with her head thrown back like that, I already want to cum on the spot. My cotton shorts probably won’t tear, but it currently feels like it. All the guys from university back then or the rap underground would faint on the spot seeing her. With me, entangled this way, even more so. I’d probably get death threats and get my fingers consecutively broken on the spot if I walked into floor 3 with her like this, neat heels and dark nails, that rose perfume on. She really did it all to make our spare hour the very best, I never would’ve expected it of her to do just a fraction.

„Oh please. Yes! More lips.“

The opportunities in here are so laughable for me to do the same. I need to fucking get out. Out, far away from Daegu. If I can’t, I’ll live off the Next Month On Thursday drug for the next two decades and tie the knot at 80 years old after parole ends. That’s some teen movie pipe dream. Every inmate, no matter the age, would tell me — they always leave. Many guys I know all have arms with black ink blocks on them. It serves to cover up the name tats they once got for a girl. We have an awful lot of black ink block tattoos here.

„Fuck, you’re good. Why didn’t I find you earlier. Fuck.“

But maybe that’s because the guy wants the girl more. He has nothing to offer. In my case, I’m surprised I don’t feel that bad about being desperate. Sun seems to outdo me wanting her just when I thought I was mindlessly horny. I haven’t been pursued this aggressively my whole life. If that doesn’t make you feel like a million-dollar man, I don’t know. Other people date to kill time and to fulfill an expectation, a pressure from inside, from out. But in here, it feels like we double every minute, and we went here because it would all be worthwhile just for ourselves. I have no intentions on a name tattoo as a reminder (I mean fucking why). Too busy kissing her neck.

„Right up there!“

She strokes my hair and the tense back I got from all that hard bed I’m sleeping on, it feels so much better even if she’s just brushing over it. All her lipstick is smeared right across me, she kisses me so hard. I’m so starstruck with Sun because of it, and she asks me to lay her down on the edge of the bed.

„Fancy a good meal?“

„Oh hell yes. I’m fucking starving.“

„Would’ve smuggled in something more to eat in there if they let me. Maybe a French pancake. Didn’t you write about these twice?“

I would be the most spoiled person on the planet if she had pulled that off and brought me Crêpes. My heart is kinda fluttering when I realize she really read every detail in the letter.

„I can handle. It’s okay. Don’t get yourself into trouble over food. You’re the French pancake. With all due respect, Ma’am.“

Stacked with extra tangerine, dark cherry jam, dripping maple syrup, chocolate coating, and a big cream portion right on top of it. And it’s all served with heavy duty Americano. Everything at once. It’s her that I adore. Fuck your transparent pee soup, Lee.

I am starving. But that’s emotionally. A meal skip I can bear. Thinking about our two empty bedsides at night, that’s like a fork between the ribs.

And just so you know. That disgusting kitchen bean blob is a fucking joke compared to Sun who’s a ten-course meal with extra sorbet dessert rolled up in edible gold flakes. Year-long supply of nutrients, most expensive delicacy on earth, an entire hall of coffee beans, a banquet and a feast combined, and that doesn’t even suffice yet when I see her gliding off her panties.

We use her coat to cover up the mattress, thank God she brought it along. I’d never let her rest on that bed without any barrier. Just to be between her legs makes my inner world collapse, I haven’t had anything like that in a felt eternity. I can’t smell anything else but Sun and I hate that 17 minutes passed already. I don’t want to embarrass Sun digging in so much, but it’s probably just my mind being fucked up. Her praises are pouring down on me, and she’s pouring down my tongue, god fucking dammit, she really got extra wet. That it’s me causing her to be like this gives me the last push to just let go and eat her without any constraints.

Sun is covering her mouth at this point, but I hope that Officer Lee can hear her hard breathing through the door. The corset comes off the second Sun asks me to open the hooks. There are about fifteen of them. Sun is horny to see the orange shit shirt off, I couldn’t be happier to discard it. The rest stays on, we agree to spend no time getting dressed again.

„Oh yum. I knew you’d get tattooed with all kinds of corny things,“ Sun traces her hands all over my shoulders, and she seems to like the big tiger the most. Large and winding, claws curved, the stripes visible from a large distance, with fiery eyes just like hers.

„The day,“ I pause, „I’m out of here is when I’ll add your name. Inside here, it’s bad luck. But just you wait.“

„I’ll book you a tat appointment for Christmas, boo.“

„I trust your confidence, Sun. I hope I can.“

„Just eat. Don’t worry.“

And that’s what I do. Sun’s thighs are like soft pillows in my palms, and I start drooling between her tits after we share another series of kisses. I apologize and lick it off, but Sun thinks I’m cute. That she said that I still got it is more important to me than I’ll admit. I wish I had the energy of my 19-year-old self, but maybe she can do with the maturity that comes with me being 28. I’m old enough to know that rather than going to the movies, she is the movie and I have the honor to be invited for caramel popcorn extra sweet.

„I listened to your mixtape so often. Did you dream of me? You look like you do.“

„Every night, Sun, you don’t even know. You really don’t. I swear, fucking swear.“

My brain latched onto the visitor hall incident like moths to the flame. Junsu reported to the warden that I must be beside myself recently, gladly with no further investigation. I don’t immediately react to my name when I think of Sun. I sometimes stare into nowhere in the evenings. It was only right for them to hear. They only bother if someone is a hazard to the officers, or if someone doesn’t work.

„Every night? My pretty love,“ Sun neatly traces my chin, smiling to herself. „But I can tell what you’ve been dreaming of. Cuz you’re not the only one, huh. I thought about all kinds o’things.“

„You, too, Sun?“

„Wasn’t joking with the adult stuff.“

Her tracing follows the outline of my lips, and the hollow of my collar bones. Torturously slow. Breath-stopping, a sensation that’s just like the first time of being touched this way. Goosebumps.

„Ah—“

„If we care for a ride, honeypot.“

„We care, Ma’am,“ is all I can nod out, and I didn’t even have a tinge of coffee. At this point, I think it’s just her having that type of effect.

„Mh, I hear you. You’re talkin’ so cute, eh.“

„Just please… nothing too wild, Sun, I—“

„Hey. Not asking you to climb around like a rabid motherfucker on speed.“

She pats the mattress, and I know I can just be on my back for the time being.

„You know you’re the best, angel.“

„Uh-huh. Come,“ she places a kiss on my stomach. My mind jumps through fifty hoops and at least a hundred far dimensions like a knee-jerk response. „Let me tease you at least. Just stay as you are. Fine by you?“

„Fine by me.“

Her nails dragging across my loins has got to imbue my head with a new level of insanity. I can’t control my whimpers coming out even if I wanted to. She investigates all my tattoos with her lips. Sun’s steady breath on my skin, I’ll never forget. Her hands, the hip grinds, the hungry eyes all over my erection, they become almost hypnotic when she finally pulls down the hem of my trousers.

„Ohh— Doc was right. You really are healthy. Pretty, pretty.“

Sun props her palms on my thighs. Enjoying the moment, kneading them with her thumbs. Even that little amount of stimulation makes my dick strain.

„Sun, don’t fool around. That’s not true…“

„I mean it. Look at you. And these tattoos are really nice.“

I know I shouldn’t want to impress her. But when I do and she tells me outright, I get even harder. Especially since we’re under the scrutiny of the bright lights that seemingly highlight every pore and cell of your being. If she likes me here, she likes me everywhere, and that reassurance is almost too much for my mind to take in. This shouldn’t be the place we’re in, but this reality is the most unrelenting thing I know. Just a little soothing makes accepting it easier.

I actually got a set of red and silver salmon fish inked left and right onto my groin. Scaly, broad, and winding in a vivid crescent shape on either side, either fish in its own way. Sun running her fingertips through my close pubic hair trim and right across the fish makes me want to grit my teeth more than when I got the tattoo itself. I can see in her eyes how much she delights in caressing and surveying me.

„You know how it goes… Happy wife, happy life.“

My mind in the twilight zone, I still manage to reach into my right pocket for a condom and leave putting it on to Sun. My hands are basically defunct from shaking and sweat, it’s no use. Thank God she spares me from needless fumbling or worse, some kind of handjob.

„Are we lasting three rounds? Four?“

A classic sequence of Sunny tease winks follows.

„Maybe just a half if you tell me that.“

I always get turned on as hell when she talks about going multiple times. Maybe it’s because it’s so hot that Sun can’t get enough of me just because. Back in the day I managed maybe two. But I’m still obsessed with how much she wants to enjoy me even if I can’t do it that often. Especially not here, I’m completely on edge. How many years did I not have sex? I can’t expect myself to not cum early.

„Honest,“ Sun giggles, carefree, and it’s the most refreshing thing I heard in a long while. „Lemme hop on. How many minutes left?“

Having Sun kneeling above me with just inches between us, the sheer sight is enough to make my heart race to the point of my ears feeling like they’re getting a repeated puncture.

„Thirty-eight,“ I grit. „Enough to get some cinnamon rolls perfect.“

„Oh, sexy. Oh my God, Yoongi.“

Sun always gets a little flustered when I talk kitchen stuff. I think I’ll have to make it clear to her that she’s my favorite select delicacy.

„Let me kiss you, Sun. I need you.“

No hesitation from either of us. Her lips are so nice and addicting. I’m left refreshed with every contact, and heated after every brief depart, but there’s hardly a pause between kisses. Because Sun’s lipstick color is so matte, her lips keep sticking to mine, and don’t come off like they usually would. She likes that. I do, too. We kiss until I almost black out, only for the adrenaline to drag me back underneath her face.

„Forgive me if I won’t remember most of this. I can’t think right now, Sun.“

„No worries, boo,“ she whispers. „I’ll write the details in a letter. Just describe me the recipe.“

I whisper right back. After not really talking for so many months, the words beg to come out. Sun has effortlessly loosened my tongue again, and this time, with her own.

„That one comes out automatic, I guess.“

„Let me hear it, handsome. What are we having today?“

Okay. Now we’re going there. I have to brace myself. I don’t think I can handle it in the very least. But I want it. It’s now or fucking never. In every sense of the word. I haven’t touched anyone sexually or romantically for over three years in this court and conviction back and forth. Maybe even four years. I worked on the tape pretty much in isolation. Sun didn’t walk all the way through this screaming shit place so I leave her with nothing, either. This time, I can’t keep my head down and wait. She smells like none of the guys she was talking about could really give it to her.

„First— we’re mixing the ingredients,“ I push out the words, kiss at her chin and behind her ear, short of the nape. So good. I can’t describe how I missed being sensual. It’s all coming down on me in one go.

„M-hm, I’m listening, babes.“

Sun showering me with pet names gives me at least an anchor that it’s all the way it always is. Her scent is amazing. I can hear guards march down the hallway outside, past our cell. My mind can’t fully blend it out. It gives me a kind of fear I haven’t felt, and a kick, all at once. I just keep on kissing her collar bone, take in how she softly moans.

„The sugar, the flour. We’re putting it all together. Okay?“

„Okay, darling.“

My hands are careful at her waist, giving her the tempo in which she can lower herself on me. Ah, shit. If she did that out of nowhere, I’d probably scream out loud and start crying. It’s already hard enough for me to tolerate how much I’m twitching. The first contact of my head between her lips churns my whole body upside down. When she lets me sink in, I stare, I’m in disbelief. I feel nothing and everything at once.

„God… Sun, that’s—“

My whole mind feels like it’s breaking apart. She’s so wet, and so warm. I don’t know what anything means anymore. I’m just focused on her.

„Feels really good, honey pot,“ comes an indulgent, whispering groan to my ear, and I remember the one time she said that to me in the morning after we went out.

Her kisses that follow are hard to describe. I’m feeling up her arms to have something to hold onto. That Sun took my virginity after we watched East Of Eden almost eight years ago doesn’t count anymore. She’s actually doing it now because it’s feeling like it. The kiss we share is so slow and tantalizing, I don’t know how I’m keeping it together. Sun with her breasts at my chin and sinking down all the way on me has got to be the best feeling in the world. I’m only stammering at this point.

„Then you melt some butter… and add it to the rest. Really stirring it in while it’s still hot.“

Our hips get moving. We don’t have to wait for the other to set the tone. We’ve done this too often not to know each other. However, I’m probably being too overcareful, which Sun picks up on.

„I love it. Can you stir a little more, baby?“

„We’ll stir it even better, then.“

My hands at her hips help Sun’s thighs do the work with more leverage. God, she’s fucking killing me. My own hips do slight raises and rotate, just enough to bring some movement.

„You’re heaven, Yoongi, oh shit.“

Let’s give her some more of that. If there’s one thing I learned in this fucking hellscape kitchen it’s stirring and stirring and more stirring. Nevermind it’s bean rice. This is so much better. Basically no comparison possible, actually. Having Sun get a taste of that means that this time, it’s the best stirring I’ve done yet so I can see her eyes roll back. With my balls pressed up all against her so I can hear Sun gasp. I know she loves them, so she gets them, the math is that simple.

„Like that?“

„Just like that! Oh Jesus fuck.“

Her way of kissing me is going crazy. She’s sucking my soul out and I’ll say thank you. It’s so forward, I’m sinking into the pillow more and more. Fuck, Sun is getting aggressive, with her hands at my jaw, holding my mouth in place. I’m feeling so hot right now, I haven’t experienced it for an entire year. Even when the kitchen was busy, the floor was still cold. You bet my feet are warm right now. I don’t think I’ve ever been this aware of my circulation. This goes on for almost two minutes. I’m entirely delirious. All I hear is Sun’s breath going shorter and shorter. Those kisses are on a new level. Her insides are twitching, and Sun’s hips align with the movement of her lips. I just let her take me. It needs another half a minute until our tongues slip apart.

„You’re addicting, Sun. I… I forgot what’s next.“

„Don’t we need some milk, honey love?“

„Right, Sun.“

If I can make her any wetter, my fingers are more than eager. They slip right to the place where they should be. Not very hard to find. I know my Sun inside out, and the face she makes when my thumb does the work. Sun doesn’t just have a thing for my tongue. She always insisted she loves my hands („Oh my God honey, they’re like porn“) and how can you not remember that. I hope my tattoos are her kind of taste. Probably not that difficult to add some more wet stuff to our little party. Prisons don’t sell lube, I prefer making Sun as turned-on as possible anyway, what else are those little licks at her neck for. I might have done a little love bite at her boobs as well. But mostly the neck because that gets Sun going like nothing else.

„Milk… and butter… and sugar. Oh shit, shit. There, you doing it there! Yoongi, you’re so bratty!“

I’m well aware. As I remember her, she’s actually pretty milky. I stop teasing because I have to focus on my hands. It’s not perfectly easy when she’s leaned forward like that. But honestly, I’ll ruin my wrist for her if I need to. I can cook rice with my fucking left hand.

„So, far, so good?“

She nods. Wriggles her hips.

„You know your hands are porn. What’s next?“

„Now we’re kneading… deep and proper, rolling it, preparing it… We’re letting it rise more as well.“

Sun’s reaction faces are enough for me to know that my hips are doing the right thing. If there’s one thing I love, it’s stretching her out. Sun’s body doesn’t have to tell me twice that she can make her lips open up in either sense of the word. Even her most minimal movements intoxicate me, so it’s no wonder I almost lose consciousness again when Sun starts bouncing on me. Without a condom, that would have been enough already.

„Now comes the heat, Sun. Ready if you are. No cinnamon rolls without the oven.“

„Fuck… Just switch it on.“

I put my arms around her firmly, get the friction going. I try to focus as hard as I can. Her bra rubbing against my chest will probably give me another dream worth ten hours of heated sleep. Sun’s hairdo is coming off, the strands are all over my arms. For anyone else, that would be a normal feeling. But for me, it’s so good and so stimulating, it’s torturous. My thrusts are short and to the point, Sun does the rest, putting me in a haze of kisses and deeper into the pillow, my moans stuck, my arms so desperately holding her. She has no mercy on me and she’s right. There’s no time to play.

„We’re preparing… the glaze.“

„Yes, show me— Yes! Oh my God, your arms.“

The noise itself pushes me. Her pussy clinging and squeezing. Her breath at the side of my face. I don’t know if I’m half awake or half knocked out. My face is burning.

„Sugar… vanilla… Do you like it?“

„Do it, do it, do it. Come on!“

How did that song go. I can’t feel my wrist when I’m with you. I think it was something like that. Sun’s getting the deep rub of her life. The shaky legs follow. Her eyelids squeezed shut. Dick buried deep and not moving. Sugar it is. Oh yeah, I’ll make her enjoy it without a move of my hip.

„Oh— Nh!“

When she’s not saying anything and just bites down a smile, it’s a good one. You know that type of happy heavy frown. Sun pulls at my hair all throughout. Her fingers are locked in the strands like an iron grip. The body talks until the tension all runs out. If I can’t look outside the window and see some stars, at least Sun gets to. Winding, trembling, bucking up. For seconds, and then she opens up her eyes again, and it’s all wearing off. She stares at me in shock at how intense it was.

„You motherfucker… Oh my god, Yoongi! What was that! Wow.“

That was a thorough orgasm for my Sunny. I shouldn’t waste time with her more often. I might have caramelized the whole thing a little more than I thought was possible. The things you learn in a rotting dentist office prison cell.

„I told you we’re adding Sugar.“

„Shit, you are something else!“

„Don’t mention it,“ I pump in and outside of her still, keeping myself at the limit.

Sun’s now-you gaze doesn’t need an explanation.

„Put the cherry on top, babe,“ is what she whispers to me, still shaky, veins showing.

„For a good glaze,“ I say, „You need extra milk. The consistency. It’s the best.“

„Gonna be so tasty,“ Sun moans, and God damn we’re about to fucking decorate.

„Last, last step,“ I stutter, and Sun lets herself fall forward entirely. Nothing I can see anymore. At least the hideous ceiling is gone. I can only do so much as croak and whisper between her breasts. „Frosting.“

„Yes, put it in. Come on.“

Maybe it’s me suffocating, maybe it’s Sun’s pussy effortlessly doing a last long glide, relaxed, drawn-out, with an exhale of hers. I’m shaking all over. She won’t stay still. Sun gets all my semen in three goes, and milks out a fourth one. It’s passed quickly. I’m basically having tunnel vision at this point. My whole body, all on fire. A mix of relaxation and total fatigue. This one punched my lights out. I’ve forgotten about the entire world. All my mouth does is mumble into her cleavage. My thoughts are just floating nonsense. At least I know I’m living, my lips do move and I can feel the condom being awfully tight with way too much cum. How that happened from just eating pancakes, I have no idea. Guess the recipe is working, Sun got a good portion of glaze.

I see the light of day when Sun reclines, pats my chest. The last twitches make me whince. I think she murdered my entire dick. My body feels like it’s on the verge of either levitating or breaking down fully. It can’t decide. And I ride that high. In all bliss, because I almost choked underneath her, Sun’s boobs just did their magic. Yes, my face is still there. Never thought I’d have a thing for having it all crushed. The dynamic of the moment just had me tangled up as a first time. I don’t think I’ll ever feel like that again, but that’s okay. Choking virginity is also a virginity. And anyway. What happened eight years ago with a lot of fumbling and angle experiments. I’ll consider this one the bigger deal. I think I just took heroin.

„Ah— Sun. Ama, Amazing. That was amazing.“

Immediate nose kisses.

„Whew, yes. You’ve been fucking twitchy. Look who still got it.“

„Likewise, babe… Shit.“

She crawls off. Tucks her hair behind her left ear. I do the right one. We didn’t even go remotely hard and are both all limp on that shitty bed in every sense.

This is what you’re calling a quick recipe for a filling. Most nights I jacked off, lord knows there wasn’t much coming out and it took ages. I’ve been so tense. But now, even with the condom on, it feels like such a great relief. Cumming inside Sun while I’m here was the last thing I expected. It’s a high that makes prison coffee look ridiculous. She feels so good to me. It won’t stop coming out. I know I’m not knocking her up but it’s almost like it.

After a worrying glance on the clock, I lick Sun clean. Better taste than anything they’re serving in here. Can’t wait until next time. I put her panties back on at lightning speed, wrap her into the coat. If any warden has the idea to peep inside early, that’s prevented now, this is for our eyes only. Last but not least. I kiss both of her feet through the stockings before putting her heels back on. They simply fell off the bed while we were busy.

„Happy wife,“ Sun coos at me, and aims for my cock with her hand, seeking to remove the rubber.

„No, no, no, no. Let me do this.“

I roll the condom off. With the left hand. Away with that into the tiny old bin next to the sink. Very much hoping that Officer Lee is on cleaning shift sometime. Would be nice to see his face because that thing is a sopping mess. Sun claps and laughs because I can chuck it there in one go.

„You’re a lot of fun, Yoongi,“ Sun and I cuddle up on the trench coat, and I make sure to hook up the corset while we do. The other second, we already panic over Sun losing her hairpins and collect them one by one. If I get caught with one of these, they’ll probably let me lick the floor or some other shit. Sun promises to do a ponytail next time. I say the pins do go down the toilet if it comes down to it. I hoist up my trousers, put on my shirt, but let Sun take a good last look at the two fish. That my whole skin there has gone all flushed and veiny makes Sun tickle me.

„I just wish they didn’t keep my phone.“

„Ask Namjoon for the key to our studio closet. I have old photographies from me there, bottom shelf.“

„Oh! Well that shelf’s fitting for you, eh.“

Fair enough.

„Labelled UY2. UY as in, uni year.“

„Oh right. You studied photography! Sorry, my mind’s lagging, too.“

„Don’t forget, UY2. Second year.“

„I got you. Thanks, Yong. Means a lot. Really need something of you outside there.“

Hearing that puts a gripping fist around my heart. I don’t want to think about Sun feeling lonely for the next four weeks, much like I don’t want to think about myself.

„Request some B-Sides from Joon. I have a hundred stumps and drafts.“

Bless the heavens that this idea, in all my daze, still came to me.

„Really?“

„Yes.“

„Okay.“

„Are you satisfied?“

„Very.“

Thank God Sun’s perfume is so strong. Otherwise, this room would be treacherous. But it’s not like my ruffled hair and skin flush isn’t telling. I hope Sun’s coat doesn’t have anything on it. That one goes straight to the laundry machine and I wish I would be the one switching on the programme and filling in the fabric softener and doing the ironing and put it on a hanger that’s probably 80 years old and refurbished.

I really have to get back to Floor 3 mindset. If I say or mumble in my dream that beside all paper work evidence that I’m married, they’ll probably inject me the craziest shit or get numbed out with pills. That private paradise game that Sun and I play needs to stay in the visitor cell. I really pray we found all hairpins because she goes through the metal detector and they count what she brought in and out. That Sun is already preparing to depart and the clock indicates only 45 seconds left for us is just tear-jerking.

„Okay, hubby. You know when I’m dropping by. Let’s see if your case develops. If not…How often until release in total?“

„I calculated. Twelve times nineteen equals 228.“

„Then we’re baking 228 times until we’re old and grey. Home confinement at the coast doesn’t sound so bad afterwards.“

„With good conduct, I might make it twelve times sixteen. 192 times the dough. I’ll perfect my recipe even more, pinky promise.“

„I’m so looking forward,“ Sun smiles.

Another kiss.

„Me, too.“

Sun smiles at that, too, but also looks at the clock. She seems to be much more serious now.

„And… by the way—“

„Hm?“

„Conduct. I see you glaring at Lee like you’ll rip his hands off. It would be nice if someone would do that. In an ideal world. But we’re here. Don’t get angry at the wardens. You wanna stay as innocent as you came in. The rest you leave to me. If Lee thinks he’s funny— my lawyer has a new lady apprentice that studied assault cases specifically.“

„Why the apprentice?“

„The lawyer herself is busy with your case because how could we not.“

„Besides keeping my feet on the ground, if I can help with anything…“

„You know what you can help with, boo. Come on, now. We’ll take that chance. I want you on my couch.“

And I lean in to whisper the name into Sunshine’s ear. I saw him set the fire. It’s going to be a mess.

We help to wash each other up with the lousy tap water as good as we can. We use Sun’s scarf to dry down. There are no towels in these cells for the fear of inmates hanging themselves. The sink is probably twice as old as I am and disgustingly metallic. Sun has to do the rest at home and stay like this for the remainder of the train ride. I curse everything about this hell place. The lipstick only comes off after hard scrubbing with soap.

I wish I could keep it on to know where she marked her territory. Everyone should know we belong to each other. But there’s no way making anyone jealous is a good idea. And thank god it’s another warden coming to fetch Sunshine, and not Officer Lee, or anyone of these new guys. I can already tell by the gait. Way different.

Before the peep hole opens, I ask Sun whether she’s really here or not in this moment. I say I can’t tell anymore, and I don’t know if I’m still living, and I don’t know if I feel anything. Instead of answering, she twists my nipples. Not just gentle. Really hard. Question is answered once and for all. A) They didn’t grill me on that chair at 2k volt, this being the afterlife and B) Sunshine evidently exists as a living person. My wife is very no-nonsense and — bad word use — for that I’m grateful. I deliberated four weeks, she solves it in four seconds. Nipple pain reality reset.

„Hey! I just fucked the shit out of you! ’Course I’m here!“

„Nevermind, Cherry. Just lemme kiss your neck one last time.“

„Oh, that’s nice. Here, up here!“

It’s harder when I’m not carrying her, but tippy toes will do.

A wary kiss blown over the shoulder tells me 1001 things that she doesn’t have to say. Thank God it’s late and the corridor is silent when she passes through with the female escort. When I no longer hear her shoes, I bury my face in both hands. The adrenaline is coming down bit by bit. My arms hurt like hell. Whopping headache. Stomach growling. A sting in the eyes. I accidentally bit my lip a bit too much.

I feel nowhere near as brave anymore. I love what we’ve done in the moment and I hate what it could cause. But it thankfully doesn’t kick in entirely that Sun was here with me and we shared a round. I can ride that wave of ignorance until I go to bed, and hope I only fully realize it when I dream without a word.

I get a permit to actually return to my usual cell after I got searched. I don’t have to spend the night in here with the glaring lights on, on the bed empty of her. I goddamn don’t. And in a week or so, maybe the letter arrives. I get another fucking letter. Sun’s luck is rubbing off on me. But the next 30 days will be even harder than before. Whether I lose my mind, stay sane, of choose a delusion, the result will be the same. That’s what this place does to you.

ACT III

I wake up to Chang ripping up the cell door. He growls at me to pack up my things.

„Fast, come on, kid! We’re movin’ you about. Order from the higher-ups.“

Sheep he is, that’s his absolute catchphrase. But this time, it sounds gnarly. Serious.

He stomps in, pulls away my duvet. The cell is colder than ever. Now it’s over. Maybe this month was the last time I saw Sunshine. My cellmate is mumbling from the top of the bunk bed. I scramble out of bed, stack up my stuff in a box that the warden brought along. There’s a lump in my throat. This got so much worse.

I take a good look at my cell. The dark walls. The bars. I’ll never see it again. How many years? Maybe ten if I can leave early. If. Inmate Choi got transferred into solitary confinement on Floor 5 two years ago and the rumors about his state of health gave the new guys two sleepless nights. It wasn’t for a reason Choi deserved. I’ve gotten to know a couple Level 5 guys in here who should spend a month or two in there instead. But the powerful stay always powerful. And yes, it’s about deserving. I can tell you a thing or two about it.

Inmate Kwon, imprisoned for a minor instance of juvenile theft, moved to Seoul Detention Center almost five years ago, I learned. His family can’t afford to get there since they’re from the south. It already takes eight hours time of the day to travel. I say goodbye to my fellow inmate knowing he might be the last non-staff person I’ll see for years. I can feel my stomach tense up like a knot. One day in the visitor cell was already putting me at my limit.

Chang walks behind me while I carry the box, but shoves me in a different direction than I intended to walk. He’s barking right at me.

„Hey! Min! Where are you going?“

„Left…“

„We’re headed right, fool. Keep walking.“

„We’re not going to Floor 5?“

„Looks like you do have an angel. Or rather, a sweet bee.“

„What happened?“

„Thank this neckbreaker height lady. The only thing you did to burn shit up was the mixtape. Don’t do funny stuff while we get to the van. You get your gate money soon enough.“

- Daegu Times -

Min Yoongi, 28, also known as Min Suga, has been suspended from Daegu Detention Center last Saturday. The local producer and rapper had been accused of political arson and national treason three years ago, sending him to prison as a Level 6 criminal as part of a 50-year-sentence which was partially given to spend in home confinement after 20 years at DDC. The historic lengthy case had been delayed by missing evidence and murky details surrounding the underground rapper’s supposed proceeding of setting the Presidential Residence on fire in February 2017 for unidentifiable reasons. Co-producer and friend Kim Namjoon, also named RM, had provided courts the necessary detail to identify the actual perpetrator using Min’s mixtape-in-the-making. The clue to finding the actual arsonist had been in the music itself.

A mistakenly included B-Side sample actually features Kim’s label boss, Bang Shi-Hyuk, admitting to purposely setting the building on fire, only to frame Rapper Min — who vacationed in Seoul at the time, writing songs at the Presidential Park — with compromising footage. The confession had been randomly recorded and made its way onto the now-title track, ‚Daechwita‘. Rapper Kim cites his lack of coordination with buttons to be the cause of said mix-up. Bang Shi-Hyuk had bragged on the tape to conspiring stakeholders how Min would „rot in jail with his good looks and never get the best girls“. But the court ruled jealousy to be only the side motive of Bighit magnate Shi-Hyuk, who had mainly been frustrated by the lack of Min’s success, hoping to receive extra insurance money. Prosecutors note he painted himself as the victim, citing his „most valuable resource“ going to jail.

In the same vein, the label boss had accused Min of sending a message of hate to the establishment, citing prior rebellious mixtapes. At the same time, Bang received bribe money for testifying by a local Daegu rap underground gang seeking to silence Min, aiming to get rid of him as a music industry competitor. In the meantime, Daechwita remains listed number one in over 30 countries around the world since its release last weekend. However, the ex-convict seems to have his attention elsewhere. In an interview, Producer Min indicated having found his fiancée-to-be in the mysterious elite Busan vintage broker and CEO „S.“ whom the rapper attributes to pointing out the final clue to Kim Namjoon: „Something about this track isn’t right! That’s your [redacted] boss talking in the sample!“

Shi-Hyuk is now incarcerated, serving a lifetime sentence at DDC. Daegu gang boss and rival of Rapper Min, Jay Park, has been identified and arrested on Tuesday and awaits his blackmail trial. Several stakeholders who had witnessed Shi-Hyuk’s sample speech have been found out. Alongside Shi-Hyuk’s sentence and the dissolving of Park’s gang who also threatened to ambush label-mate Kim (RM), a notable other suspension from mentioned venue has taken place. Chief Correctional Officer Lee at DDC, alongside several warden apprentices who had been in charge of Min, have been fired for misconduct and abuse of power.

New music is already said to be on its way: „I spent over 400 days in prison against the law. You will be able to tell how much I could write in there. Most of the later stuff is romantic.“ Rapper Min is said to receive a compensation by the Presidential Couple and a record sum in royalties, making him an overnight millionaire. He has since been in psychological treatment, however cites his upcoming wedding to be „more healing than that if I’m honest, it’s not your psychiatrist who does you the most good in life. I know first-hand. Everyone should have a partner like this.“

Co-rapper RM has since been pronounced the new label boss of Bighit having relocated the label to Busan, and is due to release more music himself including a full album titled: „Failure of The System“ with further details on Park’s „vile and unenlightened“ gang schemes behind the scenes seeking to defame the two producers: „He really should love himself more“. Tuesday, Min took to twitter to announce that his wedding would take place in private, on small terms, but most certainly would feature RM as a designated best man.

The ceremony is said to be complemented by Min’s own cooking rather than restaurant dining. The rapper is said to pursue his hobby religiously for recovering and a future as a house husband, a future unusual for the notoriously macho business. „You know. People think I must be miserable. Mostly, I’m not. I think I gained more than I lost. My esteem, it’s good. I feel much better about myself. Nobody has a wife who loves them this much. Of course I’m cooking. If you cleaned at prison, you’re grateful.“

Broker „S.“ seeks to remain anonymous: „My business is going well. Vintage never goes out of fashion. In our case, you can also see how something you loved in the past can be so be valuable to you later on if you rediscover it. Rather than publicity and more work, I want to enjoy seeing him [Min Suga] every day instead of 12 times a year for a meager hour.“ The President has announced taking the case into further consideration to prevent jailings of those innocent, alongside increasing visitor times to foster rehabilitation for criminals deemed safe for interaction, on top of more meticulous psychological trainings of correctional officers and hygiene checks.

The Presidential Building remains under reconstruction, using the court scam expenses of Bang PD. The President has offered to invite all Bighit artists for a banquet at the Parliament, expecting newly-weds Min and „S.“ in a private meeting to offer his apologies and award two medals of exceptional honor. Min appears to be equanimous, stating he „doesn’t really need a medal, but anyway“. „S.“ comments: „At the core of the matter I’m just extremely [redacted] for my sweetheart and I get a medal for that? Okay, I’ll take it!“

By the way. It turned out Sun’s bedroom had been filled with polaroid pictures of me until my release. She really dug up the university box.

„Was a lotta dust in there,“ she said. „I used one of these hand vacuums. Didn’t ask Joon about what’s in there when I picked it up. But I figured you were practicing this photography for some kind of seminar. So. No questions asked.“

The box contained approximately 400 erotic pictures of a nude study assignment. I did a semester abroad in Japan, we rolled a little different there. Every student in our lecture was scouting for models, which ended up a predictable mess. Since I was uncomfortable asking just about anybody, I cut the whole process short and just photographed myself. If I knew back then that the embarrassment would pay off, I would have taken ten thousand.

In any case. The pictures are well-used. The cat’s out of the literal box as Sun says. Unsuccessful shots, mediocre ones, and great ones. Almost all of them chaotically arranged on her bedroom walls. Like a seasoned detective was lining up some word clouds and pictures on a whiteboard. Sun’s bedroom, it really feels like the eye of the storm. Then again: That’s my star in a nutshell.

At the end of the semester, I only submitted four faceless collar bone pics for the assignment as a kind of montage. With a cheesy title I will not reveal, don’t even try. I got an A-, which didn’t faze or strike me until now since I simply forgot. At some point, most of my university education didn’t pop up in my mind at DDC. Like what would you do with photography in there, anyway. The green ruins every shot.

At best, you could only display pictures like that as a museum of terribleness. Even then, I’d think of it as questionable. If you ask me: To hell with everything can be art, attitude of the observer and whatnot. Obvious bogus, spend a night in solitary and we’ll talk. Same with journalists coming in there and making supposedly poetic and insightful photo stories.

In the same vein, Sun has very firm views on aesthetics, to which I agree with 95% of the time (the only thing where we fully contradicted was when she said cats are more sublime and nicer to look at, whereas I said small dogs are cute by principle, which is a debate that can’t be resolved). Rule number one, if the men don’t look good, all is lost. So you can guess why I’ll never walk back in there with a camera. Seeing Lee make it to a Page 6 report was already enough.

Before we talk about the other 500 rules, back to the box. There are a lot of memories to recover since all I thought of was never getting out of jail, so I’m happy to have someone to catch up with. In two ways, if you think about it. There are almost eight billion people here, and there’s the 1% that lives beyond comprehension. I insist I must be among the top most fortunate for some other reasons, more interesting ones. I also live beyond comprehension: My own.

The polaroids I thought turned out cringey or boring are the ones that Sun seems to like the very most. They’re plastered all around the vanity mirror and right above the bed. I never would’ve given the box to anyone. Even Namjoon was prohibited to ask what it is, and I would’ve feared for my reputation if it ever saw the light of day since Daechwita gave me some public attention. But Sun simply can’t be shocked by anything. If there’s a person you wanna give pictures of me in shady bathroom lighting and a barely-there tanktop, it’s her. I know for a fact that her private laptop background has an HD crop of those pics almost regularly.

Given how well-appreciated the box contents are, I think some new ones with the fish tattoo peaking at my jeans hem are very due. I mean, for instance. Sun’s birthday is July 29th. I have time for some more ideas as well. And you can’t go wrong there. Shit, even my full-frontal ass shots with me squeezing it are basically stacked on her bedside tables.

„I can brag about my wife being extremely perverted,“ is not what I typically say walking around at the label. But in my mind, I do. That Sun has been sleeping for several weeks surrounded by Min Yoongi pin-ups is both impeccably sexy and a hint for please more of that, which is no problem, fuck I care if I do some more modelling. Sun being horny for me 24/7 is nothing new, but I always admire the sheer extent.

„Also got a few in my wallet as well if you bother knowing.“

Sun’s eyebrow wiggles are too funny.

And I owe that wallet a lot, so.

Needless to say. Wherever they sell a Mae West swan style bed, I’ll be queueing and bargaining at 6 in the morning if necessary. Evacuate every cinema and drive-in theater around town when a James Dean movie is on because we are coming for them, extra caramel popcorn portion included, and ice cream, as much as we can handle. But back to the box again. She said this recently.

„Just so you know and to honestly answer the question I see on your face.“

„Yeah, sweetheart?“

I’ve come to like her teasing. There’s always something good coming out of it. We don’t need to stay dead silent with the moans or watch the clock anymore so that’s that.

„I did jerk off to the one with the choker.“

„This one?“

„And the one on the left.“

„Been busy, Sun, hm.“

„’til three fucking AM. The one with the naughty tongue’s probably the best, though.“

„Noted, noted,“ I’d say. Every detail is key when you’re married.

„You also look cute here. And here.“

„Honored, and question answered.“

Talk about questions. In the same conversation, she also asked me how many rounds we can train ourselves to do again.

„You look like you’re aspiring to the second one if we get into it properly.“

We’re not 20-year-old motherfuckers anymore, thank God. It’s drawing out. I’m too in love for three, but I can whip my discipline into another sweet 40 minutes.

„If we incorporate a cuddle break.“

„Sure we will. And a lil’ bit of coffee.“

„Coffee sounds good.“

„As I say. Anything can be done if you’re just stubborn enough.“

I nod. What else can I say. It stands that I must be both the luckiest and the most ill-punished criminal in the whole world. I ask her to pinch me regularly but my senses have been catching up during the last weeks, and the smell of bread with self-made cherry marmalade on it just can’t be faked.

EPILOGUE

Sun and I agree to eat first and love later. Now the cinnamon roll recipe is finally turned to actual, culinary, hands-on practice. Rising in the oven until they’re big and golden. Glaze all over, you gotta be generous, with extra ground pistachios and almonds on top. I regularly dish up everything foreign I ever heard her swoon about.

When we dated back then, and based on the letters she sent me. And: going by some phone calls we recently did. Sun took a ferry to an auction in Nagoya for a weekend. We talked an hour or two in the evening. It’s creepy as fuck to be alone inside the house, so Dawn and Namjoon stayed over. Which meant we wouldn’t chat about sexual things on the phone, so I listened to Sun’s vivid accounts of her foodie travels in the last eight years which has been enlightening.

Crêpes, cheesecake, pizza, veggies, paella, pad thai, wraps, homemade burgers, bolognese, creamy butternut lasagna, and we’re not even getting started yet. Yes, I keep a mental list on that. Especially crêpe suzette seems to be the recent favorite. Of course we’re doing these, not missing out on some sweet lemony delicacies. Thin and lightly marinated in sweet orange sauce, carefully caramelized. Beige and soaked, neatly folded into a quarter, and really: fucking juicy.

With the lights turned off, I get to flambé the whole thing. It sets ablaze in a kind of zapping neon blue for a little while. The alcohol fades, it smells amazing. Sun claps, and I’ve proven all my haters right for the very first time: That I set something on fire for the sheer glee. That accusation I am willing to take. If French kitchen is concerned, I do love being a sort of… romantically motivated table arsonist as Namjoon would put it in his ever-eloquent manner.

I know I’m up to more jokes. But I don’t forget one thing. Never in a thousand years would I have guessed I’d end up leaving the inside world — to be a normal person doing normal household and husband things again, cooking and all, ever. Even if I would have made it until parole. It probably would have been almost impossible to fully integrate me at 50 years of age, with no clue what happened culturally. Prison freezes you in time. Thanks to her, I only missed out on one year, and I’m catching up.

But I won’t say it’s all dew and roses, because my stomach acts confused. In fact, it’s fucking sensitive to almost anything. It can’t take as much as I wish it could yet. Prison changes your eating from the inside out, not just sense perception. Sometimes, I forget dinner, even when I’m hungry. Setting a phone alert is what I do recently. And, accepting her help. We have a little back-and-forth thing in the evening. When we have some candles lit, or the old but solid stone fireplace that Sun wisely chose not to renovate when she bought the house, talk about old flame.

I feed Sun rolled pancakes with chocolate or jam coating, pizza slices, and some carrot cake to round it up. She feeds me back with smaller bits and pieces of tofu and proper rice, jasmine-flavored, super sticky, no beans in sight. Tofu is nutritious, rice goes easy on me, so that’s 70% of my diet. Especially because it’s consistent. That’s what you need for a transition phase. Some kind of anchor. My taste buds will catch up sooner or later. I sometimes dip some slightly toasted bread into a bit of jam. I actually cut most of my portions into smaller pieces, too, so I can trick my brain.

We’re like grandparents, but if it does what it intends to do, we don’t feel weird about it. Because I do have to work my way up. When you’re so set up to be deprived, having something good without preparation will turn against you. That’s an irony I don’t accept. I will eat a full meal, a proper one, without even having to think about it one day. It helps that I expand on my skills and recipes. But other days, just the oil in the pan or the vinegar in the sauce is enough to overwhelm me.

I can smell the slightest trace of a certain food, and it tricks me into thinking I’m already full. That’s why I don’t eat at the label cafeteria. Too many unpredictable scents from every side, and the chance of things that remind me is simply too high. Trays. Giant pots. Laddles. Steel surfaces. Even a certain kind of bread. They use a lot of onions. I want to keep that kind of environment as controlled as I can. That’s why Sun and I always have lunch at home. Everything is meticulously planned.

Many days, I put a dinner portion on Namjoon’s doorstep during my commute to the label. Avoiding crabs and seafood however, he’s big on marine wildlife protection. We also invite Sun’s bridesmaid-in-charge aka best friend Hyuna with her boyfriend Dawn for a casual leftover feast on Mondays. They’ve been seeing each other for five months and have spent more time together as a couple than us. It’s hard to believe.

Sun and I date back to 2013 and I know her favorite vintage knitting patterns, and she knows all the NBA players I pinned to my wall when I was younger, but in person — we’re absolute beginners by comparison. That contrast makes these double dates entertaining to say the very least. Sun says I have to take it slow with socializing to begin with, but I really want to be with people now, so we do that little coming-together as four to see how it goes. Namjoon cried for three hours on the phone earlier even if we already spent half a day and a whole night talking. It is good to be back.

Tomorrow, I can see my parents for brunch, which is a term I forgot even existed. I’m following it up with seeing Sun’s parents next weekend in my best suit. Which is so unusual to wear, I still have to get used to it, as with most tailored clothing. Her Dad likes me for suddenly having royalty money now, but I try to ignore that.

Sun knocked on my door when I didn’t have a single dime not once but twice, eight years ago and back at DDC, I hope that he picks up that mentality one day as well. I’m there to talk about things like the piano instead. They actually own one as well so we have something in common to talk about. I play, and it becomes a pleasant evening. Background music makes the difference.

If we’re speaking of suits. I love sorting through my closet, by the way. Sun gave me a big welcome sweater when I moved in, which replaced a lot of other old stuff, and filled up what all kinds of people gave away or took for themselves since it was assumed I’d never return to the outside world. To which I say, fuck you. But I can also start again. No more orange shit shirts. More actual oranges. Sun, on sheer impulse, planted a tangerine tree outside for our house toward the land side (not the beach, the breeze is too strong). It’ll be ripe soon.

The tattoo appointment is already booked. I’ll make sure they’re filling in the two fish with new colors while we’re at it. I have every means to take care of myself now which you bet I’ll do. In fact, we’ve been renewing our looks a lot recently. As I see it, there’s nothing to distract from anymore, and we don’t have to speak a language that prison understands. This is the real life and the — mostly — safer life. Now that we’re here, there’s no need. Sunny has gone back to her natural hair color and a ponytail. The heels and the corsets stay in their wardrobe. Maybe they get auctioned off in May. And who actually needs lace. Skin on skin is always better.

Anything I would have texted her back then, I now remind myself to say in person when we meet, even most of the organizing stuff. I kicked my own ass to make it a habit which isn’t actually that hard. Who needs a cellphone when you have a Sunshine. In fact, I don’t let Sun go to bed uncaressed each day. At least twenty kisses on the neck, I take my time with it. She gets all the nuzzling she wants, she can pinch me all she likes, the whole routine.

If Sun says she wants my hand between her legs, I put my hand between her legs. It cramps less from hourlong edging since I picked up the piano again. As one would expect, both is very good news and I feel motivated. I listen to a lot of songs recently, it’s balm to my ears, Sun’s moaning being the obvious favorite. Again, we do this ad nauseam. Because consistency. It works.

The piano sound mixes well with the crashing off the waves. Salty air is good for my breathing. So much fresh breezes and natural light through the big wide windows. It’s the perfect spot. Sometimes, I play self-composed things for Sun at dawn. We end up making out afterwards, and not just the lite version. But I can keep up nowadays. Less time pressure, less hormone chaos, less sensitive. I don’t get as close to straight-up fainting from emotional overwhelm.

A lot of things do remind me of our meetings, but I can differentiate the environment more and more. We don’t really use the bed to roll around on, the couch is much better. Bigger pillows, spongier surface. Sun even switched to a new perfume and shampoo entirely to make it easier for me. We picked up some unobtrusive blue paint and light bulbs with much warmer light for the formerly all-white living room, slowly getting there.

But I’m not the only one. I recently learned that Sun disposed of the dirty trench coat right after she got home. The day after, she bought a new button-up in an entirely different color. Bright like a fresh peach, or maybe, reminiscent of salmon. She didn’t bother washing the original trench. The whole thing went straight to the trash, alongside the matte lipstick and nail polish. The stockings, everything.

I learned that you can attach a deeply unsettling meaning to something within sheer minutes in that filthy prison. Things that would otherwise be trivial for 50 years in the outside world. She didn’t throw it away because she thought we had a bad time. It’s because it would have been impossible to wear it in daily life and not think back every second. Knowing how unsanitary that room was, I would have burned all the clothing I wore myself. Detergent kills germs, but not memory.

While I prepare a breakfast, Sun grinds coffee through a mill by hand. It really makes a huge difference in how savory it is. I refuse all coffee at bighit because of it. You don’t even know how picky I’ve become. Life after prison seemingly makes you live the most consciously you can if you have the money, the morale, and an half-way intact mind. I’m very happy I make it out of bed, and I’m happy I had the chance to marry. The grocery isle is like a revelation every time. Sunshine and I make our own cookbook. Not one trace of burnt fried things and thin soups in there. It wasn’t even the full sentence served, but it feels like my whole organs pushed reset anyway. You have to be very patient.

As for her, it’s also less about rowing the boat as fast as you can for the sake of arriving. Sun said she learned the lesson from that rich guy date gone wrong. She does take her time on me. I noticed how she gets off slower and longer and harder. Whenever I think that Sun can’t become any more sensual, I’m again mistaken.

She still loves my wrist and hand tattoos like the first time. I do plan for more. A Rennaissance statue on the biceps is the idea, a full 3D sleeve part. Until then, my hand tats wait for some company. She can touch them however she wants. I keep my arms around Sun when we sleep. Especially in bed, I don’t wear long sleeves anymore. The way it just encloses you, it reminds me too much of cuffed hands. I gladly don’t have to worry about being cold.

I can actually pass out this way these days, I’m less insomniac as in my cell. I can dial down the light the way I want to, after all. No goddamn lamps flickering all night, fucking finally. The darkness and moonshine is what I love the most. Besides that Sun is right next to me, which is of course #1. Spooning almost always ends up with us being stuck together. We don’t have any immediate neighbors, so the silence in the home is the most soothing it can be.

I make special time to snuggle her as often as I can. Unless work makes me travel, which doesn’t really happen since I’m working on the next album. Touring sucks and we have enough money. I can kiss her feet without stockings now. We can always clean up properly. Her walking around the house naked with my hoodie on is a thing now, and I can tell you it’s easier to get down to business in one second without worrying about bobby pins. I work out less, feel less tense all over.

The arms are as big as I need them to be, which means strong enough to carry Sun’s new 1920s wardrobes upstairs and to work on the household in general. I’m actually not as inefficient with exercise anymore, because I know it won’t take too much to get me in shape, since I’ve overdone it so much vice versa. I think my expectations are different. That’s why it’s easy. Prison gave me more good lessons than I can count, and I’ve not even been guilty. It’s a privilege I managed to come out. I owe Namjoon a lot for providing the evidence.

Lately, we’re adjusting everything so it will be the most clean, the most comfortable. The kitchen is maximum organized. We get the most skin-on-skin that we can. Guess who can grope her husband as much as she wants. When and how she likes. Nobody around to check the clock. Weekend times, Sun and I are glued together for hours in her terrace hammock until either Namjoon or Hyuna call us for random things. I feel very peaceful, almost lazy, but I like it.

Recently, I go out for walks at 5. Watch rollerskaters twirl skillfully along the beaches like the figure skaters on the new concrete. Listen to groups of kids playing in the sand talking without a care. Get cherry ice cream and dip my toes in the water with my jeans rolled up. Just stare into the sky. Know my hair dye will bleach out even more. Shove the shades up in my hair, let the sun shine right on my face. Namjoon is some yards down the beach elsewhere, just catching some crabs and carrying them around on his hands. I often take my camera with me to photograph the waves.

Ironically, I feel safe being out there even after sunset. I can sit down in a café with me laptop way until midnight and type out songs. Instead, I avoid walking past schools. It shouldn’t take a genius to notice, but only after DDC did I realize most schools are built exactly like prisons. They look like it and feel like it and sound like it and smell like it. Or is the prison built like a school? At the end of the day, I’m not too sure. I just walk faster and don’t look. Leaving things behind quickly is an essential life skill, and dwelling the bane of existence. I think thoughts about Sun enjoying my food or a recent melody I made, and I feel at least a little better when I walk on.

We light lanterns in the living room and on the terrace after I return. The window opens up to the sea so widely. I know every detail about the weather these days. The people at the label think I’m weird, but Sun understands why I bother with it so much since she’s seen the cell windows. I often take a few minutes time to indulge in the winds and the breezes. I like the rain an awful lot, it’s cleansing. Like a long shower that washes away everything. Standing at the shore for half an hour doing nothing isn’t too rare these days, I take my umbrella with me. Sunny can’t be stopped licking the sea salt off my face when I come home, and I admit it’s hilarious.

My attention isn’t as hypervigilant as it used to be, although I still check on the majority of noises at night. When Namjoon’s noisy bicycle breaks aren’t taken care of, when he arrives at the studio like that, I get random states of flight and freeze out of nowhere. I don’t really know why. So I just help him oil them well. I’m really working on being less scattered and more in the moment. That’s why having sex with Sun cools me out. I can put all my focus on her. The chemicals do the rest.

These days, I don’t have to distract myself not to cum too early. I can just put my mind to Sunshine in my arms and make sure she gets off properly. The more hitched the breath, the more it’s music to my ears. She said ‚I love you’ to me for the first time to me when we woke up on Sunday. I was actually surprised and had to pick up my jaw. It’s not typical of her. She didn’t think something like that had a good meaning when we first met because it was so overused at uni and empty, which I agreed with, and thought it would put us in ruins if we said it behind bars, which I agreed to as well.

Here, it does hold a good meaning, and it holds a fair permanence. If I think about it, this must be the right place and the right time. I make sure to kiss Sunshine deeply in reply, arms around her, comfortably leaning on the couch. I don’t have to say it back. Our silence, when we kiss this way, is comfortable. A little whisper how she’s my star is enough the words when we go to sleep. Showing her comes as a hug, or a nice chocolate sponge cake. Or making little silly jokes about me being surprisingly salty for a guy called Suga when it’s „kissing the sea salt off my face“ time again.

Talk about what she said to me recently. I’m approaching 30, but Sun still doesn’t hesitate to tell me how cute I am. „Sweet all day. Walkin’ around with your cute little sandals at the beach. I can tell your walk from a million people, you hear me.“ We actually kept the habit of me carrying her around, too. I’m not as steely anymore, but it’s a casual staple. Especially when I place her on the kitchen counter edge and make sure she’s so well-kissed.

Every time she wraps her legs around me then, we end up playing with grapes or ice cream. My wife has all sorts of movie quotes and references up her sleeve, and we often recreate famous couple scenes where they’re flirting up a storm. My acting is just terrible, but I can sort of morph my voice to vaguely sound like the guy in the movie.

The added perks of rapping, she can’t stop giggling at how I do it. Sunny’s playful side I love. When she puts ice cream on my nose and licks it off, I’m having the hots for her all over again, and can’t help smiling like an idiot myself. It’s never boring in the kitchen. You can bet I eat every fruit I can get my hands on for you know what.

I think both our tempers have calmed a lot. Especially my prison rage towards Lee. That’s something I don’t need to think about anymore, and my brain is no longer replaying the memories as often. It’s about us now, being a full-fledged team. Namjoon says I don’t really make a good MC anymore and I should switch to folk music and romantic ballads. Maybe I’ll do that sooner or later, who knows. I produce a lot, what I write nowadays are basically melodies and memories. I guess I used to be more apt and expressive on the paper before 2016. Because I had big fucking problems. Now I have Sunshine. Where she is, I don’t have to run away.

Last spring I realized, my anxious days aren’t as debilitating as they were. It continues to decrease with every hour I can gaze absentmindedly at the sun climbing above the terrace, and my Sun anyway. Someone so intensely stubborn turns out to be an unshakable stability that I do need. And there’s not much of a reason to insist outside things to bend to us. These days, it’s mostly all arranged to how we like it the most and I’ve seriously worked on my libido. We don’t aim to replicate what we did in the inside world. The circumstances are too different.

I have no reason to overwork when I’m content and busy cooking. A few songs write themselves almost, anyway. It needs to be off my chest, I still talk about some things from prison. I won’t make a song talking about how we have or had sex, though. It’s for our eyes only. What happened in the cell, nobody will know. What happens on our couch, nobody will know. We belong in our own world here instead of to the whole country. I’m cozy with her, very much. Satisfied. Happy wife and happy husband. We protect each other.

My mind is a lot clearer, I don’t need that much coffee. I’m too busy twirling at Sun’s hair or making cupcakes. We spend a lot of time just soaking in the bathtub, reading. I eat a slice of tangerine, and she eats a slice of tangerine, and so it goes on. We play cards. Sun gives me a back massage. I give Sun a foot massage.

For hours and hours we lay down basically lifeless on the porch like dozing seals in the sand and listen to the water. We call Namjoon and talk about what kinds of crabs there are at the beach, send pictures, talk about Namjoon’s upcoming engagement. Love’s been knocking on his door as well. Our best man will become the best groom, we’re sure about that.

Going back to the underground has been a more challenging part of coming back. It’s something I had to make up my mind about. A lot of people did believe I set the fire and made a ball out of gossipping for months. Some celebrated me for it, others cut ties and now don’t answer the phone after the truth came out. It’s good for me. I don’t need anybody among my friends who turns against me that fast knowing there’s no way I would just burn something up out of nowhere.

Nor do I want to be with people who have the sickest fantasies about me being a hero. Sun and Namjoon must have been my only friends who had the true guts to believe me at all. I still hang out with some rappers who hold me in high regards for clearing the situation. I need that connection to my roots. And the others: They flock to me, anyway, there’s no way out. I insist it wasn’t actually me, but whatever they choose to so erroneously believe.

They want to associate with me thinking my supposed honor and my awfully new money suddenly transfers to them. I let them. My ‚career secret‘ that everyone wants to have is still the fact that Bang PD managed to get me incarcerated as the worst arsonist of recent history. I’ve heard of guys seeking to try the same, dreaming of actually burning something to get that exposure and female attention.

They even try to convince me that Sun only got attracted to me because I was a criminal. Which at no point I effectively was. Even if I was ranked Level 6, and I got dressed that way, it doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t light the match. I stayed clear of the gang wars. I had zero to no influence in there, less than even the majority of Level 3s. I didn’t sell drugs or contraband. I don’t think I even looked like much of a criminal if we’re not counting in the tiger tattoo, and that one is not really visible with the orange shirt on anyway.

I think that people who create that story in their head only want to justify and paint their own terrible character and bad habits as something sexy. It lets them off the hook, allows them to toy with girls. I feel sorry for Namjoon who has to lecture a lot of youngsters these days. I’m glad he helps me clean up this mess. Namjoon really deserves to lead the record label. My music is in good hands. Imitators aren’t the only ones that he has to stop from doing what they do, though.

A lot of guys, when they muster up enough courage, try to hit on Sun when she’s busy at her shop or drops by for lunch at the label. On the street, the worst, no matter how she dresses, and even when I’m right beside her. Most guys gladly are afraid of her, and I know why.

This woman managed to get out the supposedly highest-ranked perpetrator in the nation out of the highest-ranked security prison in Daegu just because she thinks he’s cute and doesn’t like baking by herself (okay, understatement, those aren’t the only reasons). But there remain some dudes who think they’re sly despite the ring on her finger.

Hyuna has cussed out lord how many rich ‚customers‘ at an auction dinner who wanted some of Sun’s curves and kisses for themselves. I don’t have to worry about Sun taking up the invitation. I know for a fact who she thinks about. Last time Hyuna gave her some random lifestyle magazine — because it had cutesy vintage stickers in it, which Sunny promptly plastered on her laptop and also my free real estate face — Sun even thought that Timothee Chalamet was „eh, extremely boring“ and shrugged at the topless Idris Elba editorial. But I have to worry about the sheer annoyance and guys trying to get aggressive. And Sun doesn’t have the time of the day to deal with all of this waste of air and time. Nothing really new if we think about it.

Namjoon has been preaching a lot at the company because too many heads turn when Sun visits. People don’t do their work. But it’s not like you can police glances and coffee room talk. People’s real envy is actually not that comfortable. I take it as my part to draw the attention to me instead. I don’t have these big tattoos for nothing. Before prison, I used to cover up a lot. Nowadays, I show more skin in summer, I put more effort into clothing. I actually kept up my habit of bleaching the hair. Which makes the ladies on the street do a double take. Which makes the guys raging mad. And while they’re so disgruntled, there’s less trouble for Sun. But it’s again a risky thing. Some guys start hurling slurs at me, others try to be all buddy buddy in the hopes they’d get a wife like Sun that way, somehow (news flash, they won’t).

On those days, I do have something to rap about. I’m disappointed, I’m unnerved. Not being left alone by other men seems to be the bane of our marriage, and simply not caring doesn’t get us too far because they’re fucking invasive, so we huddle up inside of our home and rather invite people instead of seeking exposure. Thank God we’re not in Seoul where the media would kind of mob us, especially since Daechwita went viral. It sucks because we’ve been successfully been driven back into isolation again, but this time, it’s not a detention cell. Our house must be the nicest place in Busan that I know of. It’s good to be in a spot where you really deeply want to be. Sun’s collection of arts and crafts is beyond impressive, and where the piano is, there am I. But yeah. Going out isn’t really our thing.

Sometimes, the outside world is as much as a prison as the inside world. I mean, look at any school, any hospital, or any corporate workplace. So, sometimes I feel like Sun and I have to find the loopholes all over again when we step outside our house. Recently, a youngster started working in the shop, he goes by Jimin, he’s from here. Sun has even more time for the big decisions of her business now, and more time for us, which really is all we need. I can already write songs from home and put up a recording studio in the attic. We can spend a little longer schmoozing in the shower in the mornings.

Recently, Cherry and I went on vacation in Taiwan and Sri Lanka and Europe. The latter, in early September. Great scenery. We saw Geneva, Tuscany, the Mediterranean Sea. Sun and I walked through Prague and Rome by night, especially across the bridges. We stayed up way past midnight and found a fountain other than Trevi (you get fined if you get in there, and you can tell I’m done with the law) to bathe in. If you walk into the suburbs, if you can consider them such, you do find nice fountains where two people fit.

Sun had the idea to just throw me in to see if my white oversized shirt gets transparent enough to see the tiger. It did. Her whims are always paying off, but we’ve seen that, and I anticipate the next one. We took some time to dry, but Rome is scorching hot in July, so it’s not a big deal. It’s the most romantic thing you can think of, though. To arrive at the hotel after having a great dinner, and still spending time on the balcony because the summer night is so nice.

It’s easier to be outside that way. People are a bit confused by us, but they leave us be thinking I must be her son. Sun has the time of her life getting offered single parent discounts, they’re not even asking her. Returning home we have made so many memories, Namjoon is the one listening for two hours on the phone now and not the other way around. The summer is just as sweat-breaking around here, so the holiday feeling continues.

My Sunny sleeps with the white fountain shirt on and nothing else. Me, just nothing else, maybe briefs, sometimes. Recently, I wake up to her riding me, shirt still on, when the mornings are cool and dim. We take a dip in the tide before breakfast and sit on the porch eating pancakes. I really set a routine of making them often, with extra cream. If she’s feeding me, it tastes even better.

Even after fucking me dry and getting off on my face, Sun is still as perverted as before and slathers me in cream just to lick it off the wrist and neck tattoos. I’ll probably never fully understand why she’s that horny for me, but the motto remains. Whatever she feels like doing, it’s something that gives me a sheepish little smile when I’m working in the studio. Namjoon first asked if I started doing coke, nowadays, I think he gets the gist. The next mixtape may or may not be in the making. The medal thing, I don’t know about that. That’s a little bizarre. I don’t want to hear about that shit again to be honest.

Instead, I’ll write a lot about Sun and I’s honeymoon last year. We did go rowing with a picnic basket. At the perfect speed, with not-so-perfect weather, but we all know she likes my clothes becoming see-through all over again. I think my dear right-hand wrist has never fully recovered, especially after taking care of things right on that boat in the rain so my sweet Sunny babe and I wouldn’t get awkwardly cold until we reached the shore.

We recently agreed to let it rest a bit, and Sun’s wrist is taking over. Basically messing me up, I mean I got a mouth and ass not just a dick to work it on, but I anticipated that, and I’m happy to lose my mind all over again. Her aggression is crazy. I get tossed onto the bed like it’s nothing. If she’s in that one type of mood, she can grab me by the neck and tell me exactly what to do. She’s so hot. Everybody wishes they had a wife like me. Alas, Sunny is mine, and nobody else gets to eat the pancakes either. Personal chef shit only.

We never reached the level of what the fuck as in that visitor cell, but I can say that everything feels so pleasurable the more and more we practice. More agility, more fun. I think we’re much more athletic in bed. Believe me when I say I can handle her now. Sounds unrealistic, but I got the hang of it. She’s my wife. I’d do anything. I’ll always thank Sun for popping up out of nowhere to just take me by the hand and coo at me. I still maintain that Sunshine must be the hardest drug I’ve come across, and I’m glad to get extra hooked. Only side effect are some pretty intense hickeys around my tattoos, she is definitely not acting normal about those, but I can live with that.

Sun actually stored the UY2 box away very neatly last month, saying that there’s no photo needed to bridge our distance anymore. I know no force in the world could prevent Sun from masturbating anyway, but I got sad she doesn’t check out my pics like that anymore and just sent her new ones for her birthday. This time, the digital version, and with the experience of a few more years. Sun really looks at her phone a lot smirking ever since. My favorite pervert. I suck her boobs and she plays with her clit looking at shots of my hands massaging my thighs, our favorite pastime. Actually, the thigh thing I do in person, too.

The business is going well. Rennaissance art is in these days. Yes, I can name all of it. How she let me fuse with her so carefully curated household without any scorn, I simply had the biggest luck in life, god damn. That my wife is the best you all know, that she is so infatuated with me still is a knighting to me that I keep very private. Sun just can’t stop fucking me on the sofa and pins yours truly up against the wall to steal all kinds of big kisses every chance she gets. It’s just nice we’re old flames. Proves the fire didn’t burn out fast. I don’t know how wet my dick is, I have no sense of how often we’re at it because that’s a privilege of the outside world, so ask Sun, she’s in charge of that.

I keep all of our letters, but throw away the newspaper articles. The label doesn’t forward me any news reporters anymore. Since we’re not living in the capital, there’s less attention anyways, although I might have been pretty recognizable with my case plastered everywhere and my tape in the charts. But I can gladly say that modern media, except for some top-notch journalists, forgets things very fast, especially the social networks. I don’t build my presence there, I’m way too busy with my wife first and the piano second. Priorities. In fact, nothing more important than having an open ear, she can talk about Cary Grant being bi and a great comedic actor for an entire afternoon and I find it worthwhile. You always learn.

It would be an understatement to say that prison made my preferences work right. Namjoon says that when he looks at Sun and I doing the groceries, that I came to my senses. It’s an irony. The people who aren’t innocent come out worse and do worse in there, at least in many cases I saw. I think that prison simply stabilizes what is for those it’s made for. If anything, to be among your kind, if you’re truly guilty, is about the most dangerous catalyst you can think of. The restrictions in there only aggravate, and fortify your opinions. I had enough of that terrible rice to testify that, and I even cooked it myself.

When you have no motivation, of course it’ll be bland and give you resentment. When I’m cooking now, I know the full meaning of love begins in the stomach. I’ve been of service and stirred pots for 2,000 people and felt nothing, even if it gave me the most direly needed money, now it’s one person and I’m the happiest to do it. And it’s not all just in the head. I don’t have to put the soup down the drain or share it with some lost souls and mobster laymen, it’s got actual vegetables in it, which I admire every day when I open the fridge.

Fresh fruit taste different than before. It shouldn’t have taken me a prison visit to appreciate it, but it’s also got to do with how they season things in there, always the same stuff, and so scarcely. Sun just tickling me while she’s passing by the kitchen is already the kind of salt and pepper that makes a dish good. A smack on the ass tongue-in-cheek, that’s the thyme and the basil, and if she just twirls my hair, the soup becomes fragrant like sage. „Ah, you sweet honeytrail“ — another little saying that just flavors the rice in a way that’s unrecognizable to DDC. Small things like that make me compose.

Divine things show in the detail, don’t they. Sun must be the most god-like person I’ve come across, and I’m a little torn between regretting how we lost contact, or appreciating that we came back together at the very right point in time, with the right kind of attributes developed more fully. Sun, prouder and louder, and myself, with more focus on her, less awkwardness, and some hair dye. Maybe I should do both, hone my regret with good reason and also be glad. And just invest in a good, old-looking rowing boat. A movie theatre ticket here and there is not a bad idea, either. Those things are the greatest luxuries to me.

Sun really wants those gloves she found online for her birthday, my bid won just yesterday, but don’t tell anyone. Maybe I can get my hands on a black veiled hat, my friend Taehyung probably knows where I can find something like that, one that looks totally creepy and mysterious, exactly Sun’s taste. On top of that, I get a new tattoo, it’s James Dean on my left thigh, I know you were about to ask, a portrait in like a sailor man style. Special emphasis on a great forehead, courtesy her old vinyl collection box where I found the perfect promotion picture template, don’t tell her either.

In the meantime, we’ll play chess ad nauseam and watch a gazillion DVDs. Old-fashioned is still the best. Even cooking shows. I did the math. If we make it until a 100 years old or so, we can bake over 25,550 times and more. Since Sun is older than me, more luck for us. We can spend the last days knitting something together and then lay down after a good dinner one last time. So, 25,550, making it count.

And I’m not saying quantity over quality. It’s just the sheer idea that makes me happy. It would only be 192 times otherwise. Thank God Sun is the most stubborn person I know. It’s always paying off. We took care of unfinished business, now there are plenty of cinnamon rolls to enjoy. We’re in a position where Sun is not just dropping by on Thursdays anymore, I can switch the light out when I want to, my bank balance is safe enough, and we’re not really just ‚recently married‘. Our relationship, you could say it’s fine vintage, without the ugly green floors, but with extra kisses on the neck for my tall angel. And in whatever bed we’ll be in, it doesn’t matter, it’s clean, it’s soft, we can embrace all night. I still almost cry when she kisses my nose.

My name is Min Yoongi. This March, I turned 29 in a house at the shore, married and very happy. I don’t know if I ever have a reason to leave this place. And if they ask about the fire: It’s official I have done no wrong. It gave me all that’s good, and I can humbly say that. It’s my wife, Sunny, who should take most if not almost all of the credit. I think she understands prison much better than I do. The roles and the tools and the deeds and the currencies. The more I think back, I can see the people smarts behind all of it. She walked in like a Bully, talked like the Entitled, dressed like the Sheep, and left like the Self-Righteous. All within the span of four weeks.

My life turned upside down for the better just because of two hours we could spend. 120 minutes and the entire misery of eight years disappeared. At this point, I concede I really must be her most dedicated type. Some say it’s the complete eyebrows, and it’s true they’re very full, but I know it’s perfectly close to everything about me that she says she enjoys. So needless to say, I’m really lucky to be Sun’s old flame husband in all regards. It would’ve been nonsense to dive for the hat, but you can always look for the same new one. I will break my neck in honor for that.

I produced as Suga in the underground, and I continue to do so on the regular. Time is different nowadays, days are different nowadays, my life is more comfortable than ever. All worth waking up to. It’s always warm under the duvet, I really enjoy every moment. The tight hugs you just can’t hallucinate either. Everybody gets to know that as soon as they tie the knot with someone who really adores them. That’s the most romantic thing you can think of. And just so you know. The maintenance job is paying off. I’m building a pool.

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final note. thank you for making it this far! hope you enjoyed, let me know what you think. i love these two <3

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