Chapter Text
Top 5 things Seok Matthew needs to do:
- Complete a presentation on the influence of music on popular culture in the 90s.
- Master skateboarding.
- Learn how to make delicious rose sauce tteokbokki.
- Win over Jessica from the choreography department.
- Run the 10th lap at the park near the university dorm.
Okay, this is probably the most impossible list Matthew could think of. Everyone knows that 90s music was incredibly diverse and its influence on popular culture was immense; how could he possibly summarize it all in one presentation? Not to mention his group members never send him slides, or those who do send them do a sloppy job, forcing him to constantly text them to make corrections. Then there's skateboarding, the sport that caused Matthew to break his shinbone five months ago. For some reason, he was still so obsessed with this sport, even though he swore that his broken leg sometimes hurt terribly when the weather changed. And not to mention the rose sauce tteokbokki, which looked easy in videos but turned out to be a disaster, even though he swore he followed the video exactly. As for Jessica, there was no need even to discuss her. He'd tried everything to win her over, but all she paid attention to was that kid Ricky from the Film Studies department. Of course, he couldn't compare to him in terms of looks, but he'd bet he was more charming and understood women better than that expressionless kid, yet Jessica didn't seem to notice his value.
So, the most doable thing to do was probably run 10 laps around the park near the dorms, right?
Matthew usually stopped around the 7th or 8th lap, and even though he prided himself on his good physique, running 10 laps around the park was still a big challenge. But compared to the four goals above, this one seemed the most achievable. So Matthew put on his shoes, said goodbye to his roommate, and started walking from the dorm to the park. It was only 7 o'clock, but it was already pitch black, and Matthew wondered if the park lights had been fixed yet. There was a section that was very dark because of some broken light bulbs that hadn't been repaired, but since Matthew's last visit was two weeks ago, he hoped the problem had been resolved.
Matthew maintained a steady pace to complete the ten laps. As he passed that section, he realized it was still pitch black. Surely the lights were still out, waiting for someone to notice and call a repair crew, but Matthew didn't know who to tell about it. He sighed, telling himself it was just a short stretch and he didn't need to be afraid of the darkness. Matthew wasn't such a coward, and if he still wanted to win Jessica over, he needed to act a little more masculine to save his childish-looking face. So, despite his hesitation, Matthew decided to run towards the light.
The road was pitch black, and Matthew had to rely on his phone's flashlight to avoid tripping over some strange brick sticking out of the pavement. He wasn't afraid of the dark, nor was he afraid of the silence, but the combination of those two things stirred up his most primal fear. Before Matthew realized it, he had run at full speed to reach the light, finally letting out a sigh of relief. Matthew cursed whatever reason the light bulbs had broken and wondered if he should have run ten laps in such poor conditions.
But Matthew needed to grow up if he wanted to appear like a real man, not just to Jessica, but to any girl he was interested in.
On the fifth lap, Matthew heard a rustling sound in a bush on the dark path, but he told himself it was just a lost squirrel or cat. Despite thinking that, Matthew kept running, hoping that whatever was there would leave by the next lap.
On the seventh lap, Matthew swore he heard footsteps chasing him. The footsteps were clear, fast, and rapid, like the pounding of his own heart. But when he stopped to look, there was no one there. No people, no dogs or cats, not even a breeze to rustle the leaves. Matthew was scared, so he didn't dare check carefully to see if anyone was actually chasing him. He shouted, "Anyone?" but there was no reply, only him alone in the silent darkness. Matthew told himself he must be crazy, but he did consider stopping there.
On the ninth lap, Matthew cursed his own stubbornness. Though he was so scared and tired he could have fallen asleep right there, he kept running. He told himself it was just one more lap, then he could go back to the dorm, shower, climb into bed with his beloved computer, and watch some cat videos online. And there was that gift box the livestream viewer had sent him today. They said it was the Pokémon card he'd always wanted, and he couldn't wait to open it.
On the tenth lap, as he ran past, everything was still silent darkness. No sound, no light, only the sound of his footsteps and his rapid breathing. Matthew's back was drenched in sweat; he didn't know if it was from exhaustion or fear. Either way, he'd finish this lap soon, and then he'd be greeted by a bed and a warm room with a heater.
Suddenly, Matthew heard a sound.
He stopped, turning to look into the pitch-black space behind him. The faint light from his phone couldn't illuminate everything, and all Matthew could see were the large trees and bushes lining the sides of the road. There was no one there, and Matthew didn't dare investigate. He had nothing to fight with, and if they attacked, he'd be doomed. His only option was to turn and run, run toward the light, and he'd be fine. So Matthew tried to act naturally, continuing to run and pretending nothing was wrong. But he swore he heard footsteps, and they were getting closer and closer.
Matthew ran, faster than ever. The footsteps chased him relentlessly, terrifying him so much that he couldn't even scream. Closer. Closer. So close that Matthew could hear the breathing of whoever was chasing him. And the light ahead became blindingly bright, making Matthew reach out to touch it. But before he could, someone grabbed his collar and pulled him back into the darkness.
Matthew was pulled backward, and in the darkness, he couldn't see who had done it. He could only feel the person sitting on his lap, squeezing his face and whispering.
“Scream, and tomorrow I’ll send your body parts to your parents.”
Matthew had considered doing so, but the man didn’t seem to be joking, and he didn’t want to test his patience. It was a man, seemingly taller and heavier than him. Matthew was silent for a moment, wondering what he wanted. Probably money, though he didn’t have much, but the most important thing right now was to save his life. So, though hesitant, he offered.
“Money… I don’t have much, but…”
The man squeezed his face harder, his voice laced with sarcasm as he spoke.
“Do you think I need money?”
If it were a robbery, Matthew would still have had hope, but he knew many criminals weren't after pennies, especially targeting a student like him. Those who acted for pleasure were what frightened Matthew, for they wanted nothing more than his life. This man was no different. He didn't want money; he wanted something else.
"So… So what do you want?"
Matthew tried to appear calm, negotiating with the man. But the man only laughed, as if it were just a small game and Matthew was merely an object for him to play with. Indeed, if he could, Matthew would have pushed him away and run towards the light. But his wrists were held tightly by the man, and this man had the strength of a monster, enough to make Matthew unable to move even an inch.
"I want nothing more than your pain."
He replied and bent down, his lips touching Matthew's. Matthew flinched, terrified, and his first reaction was to bite the man's lip. By the time he realized it was a huge mistake, the faint metallic taste of blood had already clung to his lips. Not his blood, but the man's, metallic, salty, distinct enough to remind him how stupid he had been.
The man rose, and in the darkness Matthew couldn't tell what his expression was. He said nothing, neither angry nor threatening, only letting the silence seep into Matthew's skin like a poison, numbing him.
A sudden pain shot through his left cheek. A punch so hard it sent Matthew sprawling. His head throbbed, even the darkness before him seemed distorted, and blood gushed from his nose, soaking his philtrum and lips. Before the throbbing pain in his left cheek had subsided, the man grabbed him by the collar, lifted him, and delivered another punch to his right cheek. Matthew's head snapped to the side, blood gushing from his nose, and his ears ringing from the impact. Another punch, again to the right cheek, almost deafened Matthew. And yet another, this time to the left cheek, sending Matthew reeling. When the man released him, Matthew wasn't even conscious enough to brace himself. He lay sprawled on the ground, like a battered doll after a cruel child's game. And what frightened him even more was that the man didn't laugh, nor did he warn or threaten him. All he offered him was silence, and that only made Matthew even more confused about what he wanted.
Then the man leaned down and kissed his lips once more. The salty, metallic taste spread through his mouth, swirling on both their tongues, further dulling Matthew's mind. Matthew lacked the strength to push him away, and even less the courage to bite his tongue. The way the man kissed him was so hurried, so passionate, almost burning his tongue. This kiss smelled of cherry blossoms, sweet yet tinged with the madness that the man had bestowed upon Matthew. Matthew could barely breathe, but he was forced into this long, drawn-out kiss. His chest is tightening, and his limbs are turning to jelly. When he finally broke away, Matthew could only gasp for air, desperately trying to save his poor lungs, without time to think about what the man intended to do next.
That was until he felt the man's hand slip under his shirt.
Matthew was terrified, struggling to regain his composure and push the man away. He stammered, his voice trembling with utter dread.
“No! No! Please don't!”
The man didn’t listen, only grabbing the hem of Matthew's shirt and pulling it up over his chest. There was no light, so he couldn’t see Matthew’s full, taut body, leaving him to feel. His silky hands glided over Matthew’s smooth skin, from his lower abdomen up to his navel and finally to his chest. Matthew’s full breasts filled his fingers, almost numbing his mind with pleasure and fantasies of what he could do to him. He generously allowed himself time to savor the exquisite sensations of Matthew’s body, and even Matthew’s desperate attempts to push him away were like cherries on a cake, making the experience even sweeter and more stimulating.
A slap made Matthew's cheek ache even more, causing him to tilt his head to the side and all his composure to vanish in an instant. The man said nothing, threatened nothing, and only responded with action. The man showed him that resistance would only bring pain, and if he resisted any further, he would show him hell. So Matthew didn't dare struggle anymore, only trembling as he spoke to the man.
"Please… Please… You can have anything you want, but…"
The man didn't speak, only slid his hand from Matthew's chest to his back, slithering down like a snake. Only now did Matthew realize the man's skin was as cold as snow, as if he weren't human. His hand slipped inside Matthew's pants, grasping his ass, and he let out a soft sigh as he felt Matthew's full, rounded ass fill his hand. Matthew was terrified, but he didn't dare resist, fearing the man would retaliate with violence. His cheeks ached, his lips were torn, and the darkness obscured the cruel man's face, preventing him from discerning his expression. He wondered why this had happened, why this man had targeted him.
The man's hand slid from his ass down his backside, pulling down his pants. Matthew's skin recoiled slightly from the cold air, but that didn't bother him as much as what the man was about to do. Matthew was scared, scared of what had happened, scared of what was about to happen, and most of all, scared of this man. Yet, he still reached out in the darkness, touched the man's chest, and stammered.
“Please… I’ll give you anything… Just don’t…”
The man was silent for a moment, then a soft chuckle, as if Matthew’s pleas were some kind of joke. Then he whispered, softly, but with enough force to crush any resistance.
“House number W, floor X, building Y, street Z, Vancouver.”
Matthew was stunned. He had thought the man was just threatening him when he said that if he dared resist, he would send his corpse to his parents. But the man had just read out his exact address, and this made Matthew realize that he wasn’t just some unlucky victim chosen randomly. This man was a stalker, long enough to know his address, even though Matthew had never mentioned it to any of his friends.
“I bet your sister will like the pictures I send her, if you don’t listen to me.”
His friends didn’t know he had a sister either. Matthew preferred to keep his family matters as private as possible, so the fact that this man knew his home address, his family members, and even their contact information was enough of a threat to make him abandon the idea of screaming or resisting. He lowered his hands, but still stared intently at the man, trying to discern his face. All he received in return was an overwhelming darkness, obscuring his face and the man's inappropriate touches. Matthew tried to remain calm, but when he felt the man move from his lap to kneel between his legs, which he had forced apart, fear surged through him. Matthew was terrified, so terrified that his breathing stopped and every cry was choked in his throat. He couldn't scream; he could only tremble and beg the man for mercy.
"Please…"
The man didn't listen, only leaned down and kissed him from his neck down to his chest. The man's hand stroked his thigh, then moved down and touched his entrance. Matthew knew what he wanted, but he couldn't help but panic at the thought of penetration. He pushed the man's chest away slightly, his legs struggling, and almost cried out,
"Don't! Please!"
The man said nothing, only sat up. His silence crushed him, making him wonder what he was thinking. He couldn't see the man's face to know if he was angry at his resistance, let alone what he intended to do next. Matthew could only hope he would reconsider, spare him, and he promised not to report it to the police.
The man's hand was large, sliding from his chest up to his neck. And suddenly he grabbed his neck tightly, the force so strong Matthew felt as if he could crush his bones in his hand. The suffocating sensation made him struggle, unaware of what the man intended to do next. That was until, from below, with a single thrust, he penetrated completely inside, tearing through him with his huge cock, causing Matthew to scream, but he was immediately silenced by the man covering his mouth. Matthew's whole body tensed in agonizing pain, the shock reaching his brain. He writhed, his feet pounding on the ground as if trying to pull himself away from the man, but to no avail. His mouth was gagged, and the man felt Matthew's tears wet his fingers. He bent down, pressing his chest against Matthew's, plunging his cock deeper, causing Matthew to groan in agony. And he whispered, as if mocking his pathetic state.
"It feels amazing inside you."
Matthew's body was so warm and tight inside that the man found it difficult to move, so he took a few minutes to adjust to the warmth. Though he couldn't see, he could smell the faint scent of blood and feel the wetness on his cock. Matthew must have been bleeding enough to make him realize it. It wasn't easy, but perhaps that's why he found it so arousing. In response, Matthew only gritted his teeth and suppressed the groans in his throat. His whole body tensed as he tried with all his might not to collapse under the force of what was happening. The punches and slaps earlier were nothing compared to this pain, to the point that his whole body was drenched in cold sweat and trembling uncontrollably. Even breathing was difficult; the darkness before his eyes blurred with tears. And before he knew it, Matthew couldn't hold back any longer and began to sob. In response to his cries, the man chuckled, as if everything that had happened to him was just a comedy.
After getting used to it, he didn't hesitate with the first thrust, and Matthew was pushed upward, directly torn in two by that large, crude thing. Matthew shrieked, but the man bent down again and whispered to him,
"Go ahead and scream, let people know, let everyone see you as you are now."
Hearing him say that, Matthew suddenly felt even more terrified than before. This was a park near the university, so the people who usually came here were students. If this were known to others, not even a photo would be needed; just someone recognizing his voice would be the end of his life. So Matthew released one hand from the man's shirt, instead covering his mouth tightly. Now, Matthew couldn't even cling to the man tightly to fight against the pain that was clouding all his senses. He felt no pleasure whatsoever from this. From beginning to end, it was nothing but pain, to the point that his whole body trembled violently.
Knowing that he was enduring it, the man became even more aroused, his movements becoming more brutal. The warm, hot sensation enveloping his cock stimulated him intensely, making it impossible for him to stop. No matter how miserable the person beneath him sobbed, he continued with each cruel thrust. Matthew didn't realize that the more he resisted, the more he endured, the more aroused the man became. Each thrust inside made Matthew cry out, even though he tried to cover his mouth, urging the man to be even more ruthless. And when the man touched his stomach, he could feel his cock, causing Matthew's stomach to bulge slightly. Matthew must have felt it too, perhaps even more clearly than the man, which is why he was crying so pitifully. This man was like a monster, whose mere act of lovemaking inflicted torment, forcing others to endure suffering. Matthew, unfortunately, was chosen as his victim, raped without daring to cry for help.
Matthew wept incessantly. He didn't know what to say, so he could only sob in anguish. But even crying was forbidden, for he feared someone might pass by and discover what was happening. He hadn't done anything wrong, but his mannish pride wouldn't allow him to be seen in this state, with another man's large, blood-soaked cock deep inside him. The man seemed to want to be seen, so his thrusts became more frequent and violent. Each time, he pulled out halfway before thrusting back in, ravaging him mercilessly. Matthew, overwhelmed by the pain, could only cry in response to the man's malice.
The man wondered what Matthew looked like now. His eyes, his ears, his hair, and his lips—he used his hands to feel every part of him, even though Matthew was so terrified he couldn't speak, he didn't dare resist. When the man touched the corners of his eyes, he wiped away the tears that still clung to his temples. And when the man touched his lips, he gently traced his lower lip down, drawing a little saliva to his chin. His ears burned, his hair was disheveled, and most importantly, his trembling acted like a stimulant, making it impossible for the man to remain calm. He had no intention of giving Matthew any pleasure. Everything he did was to satisfy himself and to make Matthew endure his sexually charged torture. So there was no elaborate foreplay, no caressing of his body, and no soothing words. He only gave him undisguised violence and merciless thrusts because all he wanted was to hurt Matthew.
The pain was the clearest proof that he belonged to the man. And this frenzy was the clearest evidence that the man had always wanted him, that he craved him madly.
After a few thrusts, the man shuddered and came inside, filling him with cum so hot that Matthew felt his abdomen burning. Then he pulled out, dragging blood and semen dripping onto the ground. For a moment, Matthew felt relieved, thinking it would all end there. But the man wouldn't let him go so easily. Instead, he grabbed one of Matthew's thighs and pushed it up, his other hand pressing down on the other thigh before thrusting in again. Matthew screamed, then recoiled and covered his mouth with his hand. Tears streamed down his face, wetting his fingers. More blood flowed, filling the air with a pungent, metallic smell mixed with semen. The man, however, didn't seem to care. The man held him tightly beneath him and cruelly thrust deep inside. Matthew could feel it each time it penetrated deeper into his abdomen, the sensation of it tearing through his flesh, causing blood to gush out.
The pain was so intense that his whole body trembled, and each gasp was a choked sob.
Matthew didn't know how much pleasure the man derived from this, from the rape, from the body of a man like him. But when he heard the man's rapid, distinct breathing, accompanied by the sticky, vulgar sounds of flesh colliding, he could guess that the man was thoroughly enjoying it. Matthew had little strength left; all he could do was cover his mouth tightly to prevent his sobs from being too audible and clench his forearms until they ached, trying to distract himself from the man's brutal thrusts. Matthew was like a doll, allowing the man to satisfy his bestial desires without a second thought. He leaned forward again, pressing his chest against Matthew's and beginning to suck on his shoulder. His soft tongue glided over Matthew's collarbone and up his neck. When his lips touched Matthew's, Matthew pursed his lips, unwilling to kiss him. But this man always knew how to threaten him, how to make him obey.
"Open your mouth, or I'll drag you back to the dorm in this state. Room X, floor Y, building Z, am I right?"
Matthew knew he couldn't resist the man. So he parted his lips, allowing him to slip his tongue inside. And the kiss was the same: aggressive, passionate, carrying the sweet, lingering taste of cherry blossoms melting on his tongue. The way he moved his tongue, the flavor of the petals, even the dampness and warmth, made his heart race. Matthew let him explore inside him, both above and below, his mind becoming hazy from lack of oxygen. His hands clutched the man's shirt, and the man was so large when he pressed his body against Matthew's. Matthew was small, weak, and powerless under the domineering hands of this man, and even if he wanted to, he had no chance to resist.
The kiss was passionate, hot, and wet, steeped in lust, enough to make Matthew lose all his composure. But amidst the long, drawn-out kisses, the man slid his hand down to his chest. His large hands kneaded Matthew's breasts, grasping them whole and feeling the fullness seep through his fingers. Then the man's fingertips brushed against Matthew's nipples, like a gentle breeze across his skin, bringing a strange, lingering sensation. How cursed it was that with just a few touches, his nipples hardened. The man didn't hesitate, suddenly pinching his nipples hard, making him moan. But the man didn't let him catch that as he pulled him into another kiss, while his naughty hand continued to tease his nipples. He pinched, squeezed, and rubbed them between his fingertips. He pulled them out, then pressed them down again, caressing them as if comforting them, then gripping them tightly. All these actions made Matthew's nipples even harder and more sensitive, to the point that even a gentle breeze would send a shiver down his spine. The kisses and rough touches soon made Matthew's mind go blank, and all he knew was the tingling sensation on his nipples and the man's thick, erect cock still throbbing beneath him.
Breaking away from the kiss, the man sat up and thrust a few more times before coming inside. Matthew recoiled, trying to fight off the burning sensation in his stomach, but the man grabbed his neck and growled, threatening him not to ruin his important act.
Matthew didn't know what would happen next or if it was over. But he soon got his answer when the man pulled out. The man's large hand pressed down on his shoulders, flipped him over, and lifted his hips high, forcing him to his knees. And once again, he aggressively thrust inside. This time, Matthew couldn't even cover his mouth as both his hands were grabbed and pulled behind his back so the man could move more easily. Matthew gritted his teeth, trying to suppress any groans of pain, but he could still clearly hear his own cries amidst the squelching sounds each time the man thrust inside him. Matthew couldn't see, so his sensations were even more acute, especially each time his insides were torn apart so the man's cock could penetrate deeper. Hundreds of tears caused blood to gush down his buttocks and thighs, soaking his knees. Even now, Matthew felt no arousal, no pleasure, no joy. All that remained in his body was a numbing pain. And no matter how strongly he tried, Matthew lacked the willpower to stop himself from crying. To fight the pain, Matthew could only cry, as if trying to release some of the agonizing sensation surging from below. But in response, the man only became more brutal, each thrust filled with malice, plunging him into agony. His head was scraped from the friction on the ground, his wrists were gripped so tightly they were numb, and Matthew's mind was becoming increasingly chaotic. There was no gentleness or mercy in this man; all he did was inflict pain, to imprint every touch on his body and remind him that he belonged to him. Each thrust elicited a low groan from Matthew's tight grip. Even on the third time, Matthew clung to him, unwilling to let go, only making the man want to prolong the encounter. This act of lovemaking was real, so real it burned Matthew and left him with nothing but pain. But to call it lovemaking was wrong. Because after all, it was rape, a cruel act of taking, using the most brutal method to mark the victim. The man whose name Matthew didn't even know, and whose reasons for doing this he would never understand. He wasn't there to give him pleasure, to caress and soothe him like a lover. All he could and would give him was pain, and he hoped Matthew would remember forever that only he could inflict this terror upon him.
Blood, he didn't know when, had become a lubricant, making every movement slippery. But this was the clearest evidence of how badly he was hurt inside. The man knew, even without seeing it, he knew through touching Mathew's thigh and feeling the blood streaming down his leg. This was his intention; the more pain and blood Matthew shed, the more he would remember him.
Matthew surrendered his body to him, letting him do whatever he wanted to satisfy his desires. Even though it was the third time, the pain below didn't lessen at all; it only intensified. Each time the man's cock pierced, it rubbed against countless scratches inside, causing Matthew to recoil in discomfort. Matthew knew he couldn't beg him because he knew that no matter how desperately he pleaded, the man wouldn't care. So all he could do was clench his teeth, suppress his sobs, and let the darkness before him become increasingly blurred by tears, because he couldn't fight the man.
Seok Matthew was so weak and helpless in the man's hands, and each time he struggled to break free, the man responded with fear and violence. Matthew lacked the strength and courage to resist, so he could only hope this would end soon.
The man's breath became rapid, accompanied by Matthew's sobs. Then, once again, he came inside him. The warm, almost burning semen scorched his abdomen, giving him an uncomfortable, suffocating feeling, but he didn't dare struggle free. Finally, the man pulled out and left Matthew crawling on the ground. Matthew tried to steady his breathing and wondered what would happen next, and his heart tightened when he heard the man move. The man stood up, said a few words, and left, leaving a battered Matthew, sinking into the darkness with a dull ache throughout his body.
“See you again, Seok Matthew.”
Matthew tried to watch him as he walked towards the light. Even if it was just his back, he wanted to remember, to remember what his nightmare looked like. When the man's large back finally merged into the distant light and disappeared, Matthew burst into tears. He huddled on the ground and sobbed, from pain, from humiliation, from an uncontrollable fear. He wouldn't be able to report it to the police, nor would he be able to confide in his family, so this pain would be like a wound that would never heal. And the man's words only made him more scared. He was scared of seeing him again, scared of seeing his face again, scared of facing that man who was like endless darkness.
When Matthew returned to the dorm, everyone was asleep, so he wouldn't have to explain the bruises on his face. For the next week, Matthew wore a mask and used the flu as an excuse to avoid going to school and to avoid taking it off. His parents called, asking about the flu, and he said he was fine. His voice trembled as he spoke to them, tears welling up in his eyes. He truly wanted them to comfort him, to tell him that everything that had happened wasn't his fault. But Matthew hid his true feelings and pretended to be okay, even though he was broken inside.
A month later, when he had finally calmed down and returned to university as usual, the man returned.
Not just his back, this time he saw the man's face. Handsome, tall, muscular, beautiful like a dream, only in Matthew's eyes, it had become the most terrifying nightmare.
He entered the classroom and was introduced by the professor. In a voice that haunted Matthew so much that just hearing it made him freeze, he said,
“Hello, everyone. My name is Park Gunwook. Nice to meet you again.”