Mercedes-Benz, BMW, Porsche, Lamborghini, Aston Martin, Ferrari
Limited editions! Damn! How rich do you have to be to own them all?!
A low curse escaped from a tall man dressed in a crisp white shirt and perfectly pressed black slacks. Every detail, from his hair to the tips of his polished shoes, screamed meticulous perfection.
One clean, pale hand held the latest model of a special-edition phone, reserved for the first hundred buyers a testament to his exacting taste. His deep brown eyes flicked from the screen to the path ahead, every step confident, as if walking on a runway.
A luxury watch adorned his thick wrist, a designer belt cinched his waist, and his glossy black leather shoes were, of course, top brand. Even his clothes were from high-end labels, and his skin was flawless, free of blemishes.
Anyone who saw him couldn't help but admire his refined, carefully curated appearance he radiated elegance and class.
"Model material," some whispered behind him, loud enough for him to hear. He smirked, pleased to be the center of attention.
Humph~ a laugh sniffed through his nose, a sign of satisfaction at always being admired. Such is the world of materialism: those who look good on the outside always have the upper hand… even if their pockets are empty.
Click-clack…
The expensive leather shoes stopped in front of a narrow alley. The handsome man tucked his phone into his pocket, glanced around, and noticing the sparse crowd, bent low and darted into the alley, walking briskly as if trying to avoid being seen.
Tap tap tap…
Creaaak…
His heavy footsteps echoed faster as he reached an old building, its faded sign barely legible:
Ground-floor Dormitory
He fumbled with a small key, quickly unlocking the door and shutting it behind him with a decisive thunk.
BANG~
A good-looking guy, dressed head-to-toe in designer brands, walked into a shabby little apartment tucked deep in a narrow alley clearly a cheap rental fit for working-class folks.
The moment the old door clicked shut behind him, the proud, composed expression he wore just moments ago melted away. With an exasperated toss, he shrugged off the tight, restrictive clothes.
Buttons of his shirt popped open and tumbled to the floor without a care. Step by step, he peeled off each layer, moving from the doorway to the middle of the empty room, where an old sofa faced a dull-colored wall and a small TV sat on a stand.
Shoes, socks, shirts, and pants were scattered in every direction. The once-impeccable man now lay naked but for a single expensive pair of boxers, sprawled across the sofa, scratching his pale stomach and scrolling on his phone as if nothing unusual had happened.
"Star's back! So hungry… can I have some water and snacks~?"
The young man's voice rang out, soft and teasing, toes wiggling on the sofa as he called for someone.
"Just a sec, Toy~ Star's washing his hands first, got a little detergent on them," came a bright, cheerful reply from the balcony, clearly happy to hear him call.
"Hurry up, my love~" The sweet voice chimed again, teasingly, filling the small apartment.
No need to wait long water ran from the tap, and in just a moment, a tiny figure in faded, oversized clothes rushed into the kitchen, hair tousled. Opening the fridge, a sweet drink was poured into a tall glass, and some snacks were placed on a beautiful ceramic plate, ready to serve the tall figure sprawled across the sofa.
"Toy, here's your favorite snacks and cold juice," the small voice called out, placing both items on a small chair since there was no coffee table like in other homes.
The small face was thin and pale, hair damp and sticking to the forehead, clothes showing sweat and traces of dust. Despite the exhaustion, a wide smile lit up the little face for the person on the sofa. Yet, the tall figure didn't look up from the sleek phone, murmuring a distracted thanks.
"Thanks," he said.
"Star already cooked some food, washed the clothes, and now has to go to work. Do you want anything else, Toy?"
"Hmm… no. Just remember to take out the trash when you go, and pick up two cans of beer from the convenience store on your way back."
"Yes, sir."
The beautiful little face was secretly admired by the one he called his lover. A lover whose role was to make the tall one as comfortable and happy as possible, giving back the gift of such pure love.
Toy, the older brother at twenty-six, was a city boy with a high education, a solid career, and someone who looked perfect in every way. Star, a small country boy from a remote town, had grown up simple and modest.
Even though Toy rarely touched him, agreeing to be in a relationship last year had eased the loneliness that Star once felt. The city boy had made the effort to talk, flirt, and stay close, filling the cramped room with a comforting sense of love.
Yet, what truly captivated Toy's heart were luxury cars expensive, exquisite cars. He loved them dearly, inspecting them constantly, never missing a chance to see them in real life at a supercar show.
The small figure, having just finished tidying the house, went about picking up the scattered things the tall one had left behind.
One mess would be cleaned, only for another to appear. Crumbs and spilled juice fell again near the sofa. The room wasn't spacious enough to keep perfectly clean, especially since the tall lover never helped and tended to make the mess himself.
Toy's was a polished office man, meticulous about cleanliness, luxury, and branded items. In contrast, the small boyfriend wore old, faded clothes from his years in the countryside, frayed from habit and thrift.
The contrast was striking, as if heaven and earth itself had collided. Yet, the ordinary boy believed this was true love, fate itself. There was no reason a socially prominent man would humble himself to be with someone like him if it weren't for… love.
The boy who confessed his feelings last year, now quietly holding the title of lover, with no one aware of their status.