Winter season volume 4

Winter Solstice: The Longest Night (2)

Both his body and his mind were in a terrible state.

 

His legs ached from spending the entire evening wandering aimlessly around the neighbourhood. If he could have, he would have walked another circuit, but it was already late. He had to go home if he wanted to get to school on time the next morning.

 

Dinner would be over, and his father would have gone upstairs to his study long ago. I-hyeon knew that, yet his feet felt strangely heavy.

 

He climbed the steps to the front door as slowly as he could, then stood there and rubbed a hand over his face.

 

“Haa…”

 

He could not stand there forever. With a quiet sigh, I-hyeon took hold of the handle.

 

Click.

 

The sensor light came on the moment he eased the door open. His eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness outside, and the brightness dazzled him. He lowered his head and began taking off his trainers.

 

When he looked up a moment later, a crystal ornament the size of his palm came hurtling towards him.

 

“Ah…”

 

“Kwon I-hyeon, you little bastard! What the hell have you been doing?”

 

Crash!

 

The ornament shattered with a tremendous noise, scattering fragments across the floor. One of them must have struck him, because he felt something warm trickling down near his forehead.

 

But it had happened so suddenly that I-hyeon still had not taken in what was going on. His lips hung slightly open as he stared at the broken glass.

 

“Didn't I tell you to stay away from Lee Chan-yang?”

 

“Darling, please, that's enough…”

 

“Enough? Our only son has got some perverted idea into his head and goes around doing filthy things, and you want me to stop?”

 

“I-hyeon, hurry up and tell your father you're sorry…!”

 

So it was because of what had happened earlier.

 

He had expected his father to be furious over Chan-yang's insinuations that afternoon. What he had not expected was to have something thrown at him the instant he came through the door.

 

I-hyeon glanced at his mother, who was hovering helplessly, watching her husband's face. Only then did he touch his forehead. Red blood stained his fingertips.

 

“I never should have sent a boy like you to that school. If you've got a mental illness, I should have tied you down and had you treated first!”

 

“Are you determined to turn your own father into a laughing stock?”

 

Faced with his father, who was so worked up that his face had turned scarlet and he was pointing an accusing finger, I-hyeon merely lowered his eyes. The broken pieces at his feet looked rather like him. Drops of blood fell onto the glittering shards.

 

“I can't bear the sight of you. Get out of my house, right now!”

 

His father, beside himself with rage, hurled more abuse at him, but none of it registered. All I-hyeon could hear was a high-pitched ringing, like tinnitus. His father glared at him as he stood there with his lips pressed together, then let I-hyeon's mother help him upstairs.

 

I-hyeon remained motionless, as though frozen, until the ringing in his ears began to fade.

 

Enduring the sensation of something tightening around his throat, he turned carefully to avoid the broken glass. Not towards his room, but towards the front door.

 

Even though he tried to place his feet with care, he must have stepped on a sharp edge, because a sting shot through the sole of his foot. He did not take off his sock to inspect it. Instead, he pushed his foot back into his trainer.

 

When he opened the door he had only just closed and went outside again, a colder wind than before swept across the back of his neck.

 

Where was he supposed to go?

 

He walked as if in a trance, through the garden and out of the front gate. Beyond that, he had no idea which direction to take. An internet café, a sauna, a café open twenty-four hours — several possibilities occurred to him, but he could not bring himself to move. His head felt as though it were full of fog.

 

He stood there for who knew how long before a buzzing noise began somewhere nearby.

 

At first he thought it came from elsewhere. Then he noticed the tickling sensation against his thigh, where his pocket lay. Belatedly realising what was making the sound, I-hyeon took out his phone.

 

[Gu Seung-hyuk]

 

Was Seung-hyuk watching him from somewhere? How else did he manage to appear at moments like this, every single time?

 

The phone continued to vibrate as I-hyeon stared at the screen. It seemed as though it would not stop until he answered. With his gaze lowered to those three syllables — Gu Seung-hyuk — he slowly moved his finger to accept the call.

 

“Hello.”

 

The low voice settled heavily against his ear. I-hyeon closed his eyes.

 

“I don't think I can make tomorrow's session.”

 

“Okay.”

 

That short answer was all I-hyeon could manage. A moment of silence passed between them before Seung-hyuk spoke again.

 

“Are you still outside at this hour? Sounds like I can hear the wind.”

 

“…Yeah.”

 

“What are you doing out there?”

 

“… ”

 

“Something happened?”

 

He was grateful for Seung-hyuk's attentiveness, and resented it at the same time. Those two simple words — *something happened?* — were enough to unsettle everything he had been forcing down.

 

Afraid he might cry, I-hyeon clenched his fist and just managed to get a word out.

 

“Yeah.”

 

His mouth had moved on its own, against everything telling him not to do this. He had plenty of excuses. Seung-hyuk had called first. Seung-hyuk had been the one to ask.

 

“Where are you?”

 

After a brief pause, the question came with a sigh so soft he could barely hear it. I-hyeon came to his senses abruptly and closed his lips tightly, as though regretting what he had said.

 

Seung-hyuk waited, then prompted him in an even lower voice.

 

“Kwon I-hyeon.”

 

If there had been even a little composure left in him, he might have done what he always did: acted as though nothing were wrong and found a way to smooth it over. But the wind cutting across his face was far too sharp, and he was so terribly tired.

 

His lips moved. Finally, he murmured, “…Outside my house.”

 

“Wait there. I'll be there soon.”

 

The call ended abruptly, and I-hyeon let out the breath he had been holding. He limped on the foot that had begun to throb and crouched down on the edge of the steps.

 

For a long while, he sat with his eyelashes lowered, staring without seeing at the tarmac. Then he heard footsteps approaching, almost at a run.

 

He slowly raised his head. Seung-hyuk, dressed entirely in black, was coming towards him. Spotting the figure huddled in the corner, he hurried over, stopped in front of I-hyeon and lifted his chin.

 

“Hey. What the hell happened to your face?”

 

It was only when he saw where Seung-hyuk's gaze had settled that I-hyeon remembered the bleeding cut on his forehead. He must look awful. He belatedly raised the back of his hand to wipe it, but Seung-hyuk stopped him, grasping his hand firmly and frowning.

 

“I asked what happened.”

 

“I fell over.”

 

“How exactly do you fall over and hurt nothing but your forehead? Tell me the trick.”

 

I-hyeon knew it was a ridiculous explanation, but he could not tell the truth. When he fell silent and looked away, Seung-hyuk raised an eyebrow. Realising that further questions would get him nowhere, he frowned and looked around. Then he took out his phone and called someone.

 

“You crazy fucker! Where the hell did you disappear to all of a sudden?”

 

The furious shout from the other end of the call was loud enough for I-hyeon to hear. Seung-hyuk, however, looked completely unruffled. He pressed the volume-down button with his thumb and glanced at I-hyeon as he answered.

 

“Something urgent came up.”

 

The person on the other end evidently started shouting again. Seung-hyuk ran his tongue over his lips and pushed back his hair.

 

“I'll handle it. Forget that. The office is empty right now, yeah? Fine. I'm on my way, so don't let anyone in until tomorrow.”

 

There seemed to be more yelling, but Seung-hyuk ended the call without hesitation. He switched the phone off altogether and put it in his pocket.

 

“Get up.”

 

A large hand appeared in front of I-hyeon, followed by a sleeve with a cuff at the wrist. Only then did he notice that Seung-hyuk was wearing a black suit and dress shoes. Judging by that phone call, he had left somewhere in a hurry because of him. Regret washed over I-hyeon belatedly.

 

“…Don't you need to be somewhere?”

 

“It's fine. It wasn't anything important.”

 

“Well? Planning to sit here for the rest of your life?”

 

Seung-hyuk held out his hand again. I-hyeon could not decide whether he had the right to take it. Noticing his hesitation, Seung-hyuk sighed, took the pale hand himself and pulled him to his feet.

 

“Come on.”

 

Seung-hyuk started walking without letting go. Instead of asking where they were going, I-hyeon quietly followed him. Pain rose through the sole of his left foot with each step, but he bit the inside of his cheek and endured it.

 

His attempt to conceal the injury was apparently useless. It was not long before Seung-hyuk noticed the slight hitch in his stride and stopped dead.

 

He looked down at I-hyeon's left leg, screwed up his face, then gave a self-mocking laugh.

 

“You really are making me do all sorts of things I've never done before.”

 

Without warning, Seung-hyuk crouched down in front of him, presenting his broad back. The invitation to climb on was unmistakable, and I-hyeon pressed his lips together in alarm.

 

“It's fine.”

 

“Shut up and get on. It'll be quicker. It's freezing.”

 

He did look cold, wearing nothing over his black suit jacket. Even as I-hyeon wondered whether he should do this, his hands moved of their own accord. He leaned against that wide back, wrapped his arms around Seung-hyuk's neck and was lifted effortlessly off the ground.

 

His body swayed with each of Seung-hyuk's long strides. Afraid the frantic thud of his heart might travel through Seung-hyuk's back, I-hyeon tried straightening his upper body a little. A voice immediately came up to him.

 

“Hey. If you fall off and crack your skull, don't expect me to take responsibility.”

 

I-hyeon bit his lower lip and settled against Seung-hyuk's back again.

 

They arrived at a commercial building of some kind. With one hand, Seung-hyuk raised a closed shutter, climbed the stairs as though he knew them by heart and entered a code beside an old iron door.

 

Creak. The door opened onto a room that resembled a shabby, old-fashioned headmaster's office.

 

An ageing leather sofa stood before a wooden desk on one side. Beside it, a cheap metal folding bed sat on its own.

 

Seung-hyuk slapped the wall to switch on the heater and the lights, then lowered I-hyeon in front of the sofa.

 

“Sit.”

 

I-hyeon made an effort to walk normally. Only after he sat down on the sofa did some of the tension finally drain out of his body. It was then that he properly noticed Seung-hyuk tossing his jacket carelessly over the back of a chair.

 

With his hair styled up with some sort of product and a suit that looked made to fit him, there was nothing about Gu Seung-hyuk that suggested he was a schoolboy. I-hyeon wanted to know where he had come from, but dreaded the answer.

 

Already utterly exhausted, he lowered his eyes rather than asking him anything.

 

“Lift your head.”

 

Seung-hyuk had been rummaging about while I-hyeon sat quietly. Now he was holding a first-aid box of the old-fashioned sort one hardly saw these days. I-hyeon wondered why a boy who always came back covered in wounds never seemed to use something like that himself.

 

He stared at the box without speaking. Seung-hyuk merely raised his eyebrows, sat down beside him and opened it.

 

“Put up with it if it stings.”

 

Finding the antiseptic, Seung-hyuk gently pushed I-hyeon's fringe off his forehead. He was unusually careful as he applied it to the wound.

 

His eyes were fixed intently on one spot, and his face was uncomfortably close. I-hyeon did not know where to look. When he lowered his gaze, Seung-hyuk's red lips came into view. His heart began to race for no apparent reason.

 

“…I can do it myself.”

 

“You put ointment on me in the infirmary. I'm returning the favour, so keep still.”

 

Whenever the wound stung, and I-hyeon involuntarily frowned, Seung-hyuk's hand faltered. For someone who routinely came back with injuries that made this little cut seem trivial, he pulled a face as though he were the one in pain. Feeling strangely awkward, I-hyeon fiddled with his fingertips.

 

Only after cleaning the wound and applying ointment did Seung-hyuk straighten up. I-hyeon released the breath he had been holding as discreetly as possible. He swallowed and was about to lean away when Seung-hyuk nodded towards his foot. Soaking a piece of gauze with antiseptic, he said matter-of-factly, “Take off your shoe too.”

 

“It's all right. I'll do it.”

 

“Do you want me to take it off for you?”

 

Seung-hyuk did not look inclined to back down. I-hyeon pressed his lips together, hesitated, then slipped his foot out of his trainer. The sock was soaked with blood and stained red.

 

The state of his foot was worse than he had expected. His eyes widened, but Seung-hyuk merely frowned and carefully peeled the sock off. His hands were deliberate as he worked.

 

“Ngh…”

 

I-hyeon could not suppress a small cry when Seung-hyuk removed the fragment embedded in his sole and applied antiseptic. Seung-hyuk glanced up at his face, then returned his attention to the foot.

 

“There. Done.”

 

After spreading ointment over the wound and meticulously covering it with a large waterproof dressing, Seung-hyuk got to his feet. He gathered up the little bits of rubbish and threw them in the bin, then turned back.

 

“Keep water off it, and go to a hospital after school tomorrow to have it treated properly.”

 

“…Thank you.”

 

Instead of answering, Seung-hyuk walked over to a bookcase. He opened a drawer and came back with a large blanket. Tossing it onto I-hyeon's lap, he indicated the folding bed beside the sofa.

 

“It's hours until sunrise. Go and get some sleep over there.”

 

“No, I'm comfortable here. You use it.”

 

“I'm fine.”

 

At the quiet reply, Seung-hyuk stopped tidying away the first-aid box. He raised his head and regarded I-hyeon with a dissatisfied frown.

 

“Kwon I-hyeon. Does saying you're fine when you're clearly not actually make anything better?”

 

Tick. Tock.

 

The sound of a clock I-hyeon had not even noticed before seemed suddenly loud. He could almost hear himself swallow. In a life spent hiding what he felt and trying never to let anything show, no one had ever said such a thing to him.

 

He had no answer. His lips merely moved without forming words. After watching him for a moment, Seung-hyuk looked away and added casually, “*I'm* not fine with it, so stop talking rubbish and lie down.”

 

I-hyeon pressed his lips inward and got up hesitantly. He went over to the folding bed with Seung-hyuk's blanket around his shoulders. It smelled dusty, as though it had not been washed in a long time, but he clutched its ends and wrapped himself even more tightly in it.

 

Perhaps it was because he had spent all day walking in the cold, or perhaps because he had lost blood. Whatever the reason, he shivered even sitting still. Seung-hyuk brought a portable heater over from the corner, set it in front of him and switched it on. A reddish glow spread from it, soon followed by warmth.

 

“Turning the light off.”

 

Click. The light illuminating the room vanished, leaving only the heater's red glow by I-hyeon's feet. When he lifted his eyes, he noticed pale moonlight seeping in through the window.

 

I-hyeon stretched out his legs and slowly lay back. The cheap mattress felt hard against his spine, yet he was more comfortable than he had been at any other point that day. He stared at the regular wavy pattern on the ceiling and parted his lips.

 

“…Thank you.”

 

There was nothing else he could say. He was grateful for Seung-hyuk's indifference in not asking what had happened, even though he had every reason to. Grateful, too, for the perceptiveness that let him understand things I-hyeon had never said aloud.

 

Turning his head, I-hyeon saw the dark silhouette of Seung-hyuk settling back on the sofa.

 

Only a narrow gap, barely wide enough for one person to pass through, separated the sofa and the folding bed. They were lying with their heads at the same end, so if Seung-hyuk turned his face, their eyes would meet immediately. I-hyeon could not close his eyes. He simply watched Seung-hyuk's profile.

 

Their breathing was audible in the quiet. The noise of the city beyond the window sounded distant, as though they were in another world. Questions he could not bring himself to ask crawled about behind his tightly closed lips.

 

There was so much he wanted to ask Gu Seung-hyuk. Why his face was always in such a state. Who those frightening men at the fast-food restaurant had been.

 

And why he thought all gay people should die.

 

But the last shred of reason left to him kept his mouth shut. Afraid a question might escape, I-hyeon pressed his lips together and slowly exhaled.

 

“If you've got something to say, say it.”

 

Seung-hyuk broke the delicate silence. As he often did in the library, he was lying with one forearm over his eyes.

 

“You're going to stare a hole through my face.”

 

Realising that Seung-hyuk had felt his gaze, I-hyeon was dismayed. He barely managed a reply, his voice shrinking away.

 

“…It's nothing.”

 

Then he immediately rolled onto his other side, turning his back on Seung-hyuk.

 

When he checked the time, it was well past midnight. He ought to fall asleep before the atmosphere tempted him into saying something foolish. He lowered his heavy eyelids, but sleep would not come.

 

Every nerve in his body seemed focused on what lay behind him. Whenever the quiet breathing at his back was overlaid by the thud, thud of his own heart, his fingers tingled.

 

Who knew how much time passed before a low voice came from behind him.

 

“Hey.”

 

Apparently, Seung-hyuk was not asleep either. I-hyeon slowly opened his eyes.

 

“Want me to tell you a secret?”

 

I-hyeon blinked silently at the unexpected question. Seung-hyuk did not seem to require an answer, because he went on.

 

“I don't have a mum, you know? My dad isn't my real dad either.”

 

“I was adopted from an orphanage when I was little.”

 

I-hyeon was left speechless. It was too sudden a confession simply to listen to without a word. After hesitating over what he should say, he turned to face Seung-hyuk instead.

 

“I must have been five or six. It was fucking freezing that day. My mum took me to this building and told me to wait a little while. Then she never came back. Turned out it was an orphanage.”

 

“… ”

 

“Looking back now, it can't have been easy for a girl fresh out of secondary school to raise a kid without a husband. It's not like I don't understand, and I don't blame her. It's just…”

 

Seung-hyuk lowered the arm covering his eyes and turned his head towards I-hyeon. Their gazes met in the darkness. I-hyeon's heart gave a sudden lurch.

 

“Family, blood ties, all that crap. Doesn't seem like much to me.”

 

He must have guessed something from finding I-hyeon crouched outside his own gate, unable to go home.

 

The matter-of-fact account of his past sounded like comfort, and I-hyeon's chest ached. He spoke in a husky voice.

 

“…Was the orphanage all right?”

 

Seung-hyuk looked away and up at the ceiling. He clicked his tongue lightly before answering without much emotion.

 

“What's there to be all right about? You know how places like that are. Dozens of little kids crammed into one room to sleep. Fighting over a piece of bread.”

 

“… ”

 

“Around the time I was wondering how much longer I'd have to live like that, I got adopted. The day I left, the director gripped my shoulders, looked me in the eye and told me I had to stay healthy.”

 

“Fucking funny, isn't it? She'd taken money to sell a kid to an ex-gangster businessman, then pretended to care enough to say that.”

 

At the word *gangster*, I-hyeon's mouth tightened. He remembered the rumours circulating about Seung-hyuk. After a moment's hesitation, he asked quietly, “What was it like after you were adopted?”

 

This time the silence lasted longer. The ticking of the clock filled the room before Seung-hyuk answered.

 

“It's not exactly a pleasant story. You'll be bored if I tell you.”

 

“Tell me anyway.”

 

The prominent Adam's apple in his exposed throat moved. Seung-hyuk worked his tongue against the inside of his cheek, then began.

 

“I got the shit beaten out of me all the time, even when I was little. If I stayed down after a beating, I got another one for being weak. If I got up, I got another one for not having had enough.”

 

“Once, I woke up the next morning with this ache in my chest. Turned out one of my ribs was cracked. I went to hospital alone, got treated and came home, and the moment I walked in, I got beaten again. Know what that one was for?”

 

“…What?”

 

“Because my father had been looking for me, and I wasn't home.”

 

Seung-hyuk recounted it as though it were all long over, his voice calm. Inside I-hyeon, though, everything was in turmoil. He could picture a little boy, barely half Seung-hyuk's present height, collapsed among grim-looking men.

 

He thought about how Seung-hyuk had grown taller and broader, yet the violence had never left him. He could imagine how he had been treated at home all these years without hearing another word. At last, he understood why Seung-hyuk's face had so rarely been free of injuries.

 

His chest felt tight. He wanted to say something, anything, to comfort him.

 

If Seung-hyuk came back hurt again, I-hyeon wanted to be there to treat his wounds. If he could, he wanted to help him escape that place altogether.

 

But the realisation that there was nothing he could do left him helpless, and an unfamiliar anger rose alongside it.

 

Then his heart seemed to drop. He thought he understood where those feelings, rising unbidden from somewhere deep inside him, had come from.

 

*Are you sure that's friendship?*

 

Chan-yang's voice echoed in his ears. His stomach churned. He looked up at the ceiling, but its patterns seemed to sway. His hands would not stop trembling. A crawling sensation spread along his veins, as though something were moving beneath his skin.

 

“Want to hear more?”

 

“…No.”

 

His own voice sounded unfamiliar to him. Seung-hyuk gave a quiet laugh and turned to look at him again.

 

“It's embarrassing, so I've never told anyone this stuff. But somehow, telling you seems all right.”

 

“I thought I didn't need friends or anything like that…”

 

Long fingers reached towards I-hyeon's face and brushed across his closed eyes. In the dark, Seung-hyuk finished softly, “It's not bad.”

 

It was such a simple, almost offhand touch. Still, I-hyeon's heart began to pound. He kept his eyes closed and dug his fingernails into his fingertips. Cold sweat gathered on his hands.

 

“Go to sleep now.”

 

Even breathing in and out felt unnatural. He tried to match his breaths to Seung-hyuk's. His heart beat so hard that he thought he could feel his pulse at his temples. I-hyeon gritted his teeth, terrified that Seung-hyuk might hear it.

 

An eternity seemed to pass. At last Seung-hyuk's breathing grew even, and darkness settled over the office like black ink spreading through water.

 

I-hyeon released the breath he had been holding and slowly sat up. Seung-hyuk was lying on the sofa with his eyes closed. From here, I-hyeon could see his entire face.

 

Faint light laid shadows over its sharply defined features.

 

Without noticing what he was doing, I-hyeon traced the line of Seung-hyuk's lips with his gaze, then the prominent Adam's apple jutting from his throat like an apple pip caught there. A thirst rose in him. He clenched his fist, and the old folding bed creaked beneath him.

 

Seung-hyuk must have been sound asleep. He remained motionless, like a sculpture. Watching him, I-hyeon bit his lower lip.

 

*Just once. Just this once…*

 

His trembling hand began to move before he quite knew it. His pale, slender fingers reached towards Seung-hyuk's lips.

 

The lightest touch of skin against skin sent a shock through him, like static electricity. I-hyeon snatched his hand back and raised his arm. His vision dimmed with despair.

 

*Are you sure that's friendship?*

 

He heard the question again. Drawing his knees up, I-hyeon curled in on himself and pressed his forehead against them. His eyes burned and a sour taste filled his mouth.

 

This was Gu Seung-hyuk, who had shown disgust at the very thought of two men together. I-hyeon could scarcely imagine how cold those indifferent eyes would become with betrayal and revulsion if Seung-hyuk learnt that a boy he considered a friend had feelings for him.

 

Chan-yang's vile smile drifted before his eyes. Seung-hyuk could never find out. No matter what, he had to give up these feelings and run away. He could see no other way.

 

*Gu Seung-hyuk. What am I going to do?*

 

*I don't think I can be your friend.*

 

There was no excitement in this newly recognised feeling. Curled up with his eyes shut, I-hyeon could feel only despair closing in.

 

──── 📘📘 ────

 

Students were thundering towards the dining hall, but I-hyeon walked in the opposite direction, alone.

 

He could barely remember how he had managed to go home, change into his uniform and get to school, or how he had sat through his morning lessons. A boy who accidentally brushed against his shoulder turned to stare at his pale face in surprise and muttered an apology.

 

I-hyeon's slow steps took him to the tuck shop tucked away in a corner of the school. It was still quiet, before the lunchtime rush. He picked up a custard bun and a bottled drink, paid, then looked around.

 

He did not want to squeeze in among the little groups of boys sitting together. Besides, once the students had finished their lunches, the place would be packed.

 

He considered the shaded stands at one end of the playing field, but there was still unmelted snow around them. In the end, he turned away and climbed the stairs to the roof.

 

Creeeak. The old door opened onto a brilliant blue sky. He breathed deeply, letting the clean, cold air fill his lungs. After shutting the rooftop door, I-hyeon walked to a bench near the stairwell.

 

He had no appetite after being awake all night, but he knew he had to eat something. He unwrapped the bun and took a bite. An artificial sweetness spread across his tongue, yet his mouth felt rough, as though he were chewing dry grass. A few more bites were no better, so he simply folded the wrapper over and put the bun down.

 

At least he could rinse out his mouth. He picked up his drink, but the lid was screwed on so tightly that it merely slipped in his hand. Suddenly irritated by the sense that nothing was going right, he bit his lip and was about to slam the bottle down.

 

“Having a wrestling match with the cap?”

 

A hand appeared from beside him and took the bottle. At the familiar deep voice, I-hyeon jerked his head up to find Seung-hyuk standing there.

 

His fingers froze in mid-air. Seung-hyuk opened the bottle in one movement and held it out to him.

 

“When did you get here? I didn't hear the door.”

 

“I was here before you.”

 

He indicated another bench behind them. I-hyeon glanced at it and, after a moment's hesitation, asked, “…You knew it was me just from behind?”

 

“Course I did. I'm not a fucking idiot.”

 

Seung-hyuk answered as though it were obvious, pressed the cold bottle into I-hyeon's hand and sat down beside him.

 

The moment I-hyeon looked at his face, his heart began to beat as though something in him had broken. One thought filled his head: he had to get away. He hurriedly rose from the bench.

 

“Well, stay as long as you like. I'm going back down.”

 

As he turned and reached for the bun wrapper, Seung-hyuk caught his wrist. He nodded at I-hyeon's hand and said, “There's still time before lunch ends. Finish eating.”

 

“No. I was going to leave the rest.”

 

“You'll be punished for wasting food, you know.”

 

Seung-hyuk pulled him firmly back onto the bench and took the bun from him. Then he unwrapped it and, without the slightest hesitation, bit into the part I-hyeon had already eaten.

 

“I'll take the punishment for you.”

 

I-hyeon's fingertips trembled. He gripped the bottle so tightly that cold droplets spread across his palm. Hastily looking away from Seung-hyuk, he raised it to his mouth.

 

“You weren't there when I woke up.”

 

“Cough—!”

 

The unexpected remark made I-hyeon choke. He coughed and turned towards Seung-hyuk, who was leaning back against the bench and calmly inspecting the bun wrapper. I-hyeon wiped his lips with the back of his hand and averted his eyes.

 

“…Yeah. I had to get my uniform.”

 

“Hard-working, aren't you?”

 

Seung-hyuk's response was offhand. He crumpled the wrapper and tossed it towards a bin a short distance away. It landed inside with a tap. He dusted off his hands, took I-hyeon's drink, swallowed a mouthful, then tilted his head towards him.

 

“How's your foot?”

 

I-hyeon nodded without a word. The turmoil inside him made him feel sick. All he wanted was to leave.

 

Seung-hyuk, apparently not noticing the slight rigidity of his face, leant forwards with a little grunt. The next thing I-hyeon knew, someone had caught his ankle and lifted his foot.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

Startled, he grabbed Seung-hyuk's forearm, but Seung-hyuk ignored him and removed his slipper and white sock. He inspected the sole of his foot, then nodded.

 

“You changed the dressing.”

 

“…I told you it was fine.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Aren't you clever.”

 

With a little laugh, Seung-hyuk ruffled his hair. I-hyeon's heart betrayed him, racing at the most ordinary touch.

 

Without thinking, he slapped Seung-hyuk's hand away. The crack was louder than he had intended. I-hyeon's stiff face met Seung-hyuk's questioning look, and one of his eyebrows rose.

 

“All right, all right. I won't touch you.”

 

“Honestly, you're worse than a bloody cat. So fucking touchy.”

 

Perhaps he had noticed that I-hyeon was behaving differently, but he gave no further sign of it. With a light laugh, Seung-hyuk interlaced his fingers behind his head and sprawled back against the bench.

 

While he looked up at the sky and whistled quietly, I-hyeon stared at his own hands and bit the inside of his cheek.

 

*What do I do? What am I supposed to do?*

 

He had spent the entire previous night arriving at a single conclusion: if he acted normally and slowly put some distance between them, Seung-hyuk would not notice anything unusual. Yet now he could not even remember how he had behaved around him before.

 

If he kept making it this obvious, Seung-hyuk would work it out sooner or later. Agitated, I-hyeon fiddled with the bottle in his hands.

 

Clatter.

 

It slipped from his grasp and fell to the ground. He lunged to catch it, but his fingers closed on empty air. Fizzy drink burst out, soaking his sleeve and hand.

 

“…Haa.”

 

Seung-hyuk turned at the sigh, which was heavy with irritation and regret. He looked at I-hyeon's hand hanging awkwardly in the air and the overturned bottle, then promptly took off his school vest.

 

Taking I-hyeon's pale hand, he began wiping it with the knitted fabric, chuckling.

 

“Told you you were a handful.”

 

Purple stains spread across the grey vest, but he did not seem to care. Flustered, I-hyeon tried pulling away, to no avail. Seung-hyuk only adjusted his grip around his wrist and continued wiping, his gaze lowered.

 

“Go straight to the hospital after lessons. No wandering off somewhere else.”

 

“Want me to come with you?”

 

The soft wool brushed against the delicate skin between his knuckles, and I-hyeon's shoulders stiffened. It was even worse whenever Seung-hyuk's skin happened to touch his.

 

He had thought he would be able to act normal in front of Gu Seung-hyuk. But perhaps that had been a hopeless aim from the beginning. He could suppress his quickening breath, but there was nothing he could do about his pounding pulse. The thought that Seung-hyuk might feel it beneath the fingers around his wrist made him increasingly desperate.

 

“No. It's all right. You don't need to.”

 

“Wait for me outside the main gate when school finishes. I don't much feel like going home early today, so—”

 

“I said I'm fine!”

 

He had pulled away too hard. His arm flew through the air more violently than he had intended, and he saw Seung-hyuk slowly lift his head. Realising his mistake, I-hyeon looked away and hastily added an explanation.

 

“I can go on my own. I'm not a child. You don't have to worry about me.”

 

“…It's nothing to do with you. I'll handle it myself.”

 

His voice was low, but it sounded cold rather than calm, his desire for distance tangled up with his panic.

 

It sounded harsh even to his own ears. He did not need to ask how it had sounded to Seung-hyuk.

 

The sudden silence made it difficult to breathe. I-hyeon shot to his feet.

 

“I'd better go.”

 

He intended to escape as quickly as possible, but barely had he taken a step when someone caught his hand. Seung-hyuk hauled him round and rose from the bench with a frown.

 

“You're drawing a line in a weird place again.”

 

He looked displeased. I-hyeon tried freeing his hand, but Seung-hyuk's grip would not budge. Frowning, I-hyeon said, “What are you doing? Let go.”

 

“That's a bit much to say to someone who's only worried about you, I-hyeon.”

 

The irritation in his tone sent a jolt through I-hyeon's fingers where their hands met. It felt as though someone were driving little needles beneath his nails.

 

He tried pulling away from the unfamiliar, upsetting sensation, but Seung-hyuk entwined their fingers more firmly. I-hyeon bit hard into his lower lip and looked down.

 

“…Let go of my hand first. Two blokes doing this looks weird.”

 

The words apparently made Seung-hyuk even angrier. His grip tightened, and a humourless laugh came from above I-hyeon's head.

 

“But it was fine until now?”

 

“You were the one who wanted to be friends. Isn't this how you act with people you're close to?”

 

I-hyeon did not understand where that was coming from, but the sarcasm was unmistakable. When he looked up with his face set in a silent question, Seung-hyuk scoffed.

 

“You do all sorts of things with Lee Chan-yang, but holding my hand is suddenly weird? I'm a little offended.”

 

“What?”

 

At the unexpected name, his heart seemed to drop through the ground before racing again. Bile rose in his throat, and his breath caught. Unable to hide the panic on his face, I-hyeon raised his head, suddenly white as a sheet.

 

“Why are you bringing him up?”

 

Seeing him react so strongly — even meeting the eyes he had been avoiding — Seung-hyuk gave a cold, mocking smile.

 

“It's funny, that's why. It's fine for that bastard to put his arms around you because you're close, but when I do this, it's strange.”

 

“Is it the person that's the problem, or what they're doing?”

 

Seung-hyuk drew his brows together, put both hands around I-hyeon's waist and pulled him sharply against himself. I-hyeon's heart gave a sickening lurch. Bending down until their faces were close, Seung-hyuk added coldly, “Holding hands is wrong, but putting your arms around someone's waist is fine?”

 

The sudden closeness made I-hyeon's spine go rigid. He instinctively shoved at Seung-hyuk's chest and stumbled half a step back, clenching his fists. Seung-hyuk twisted his lips.

 

“Ah. So it's *me* that's the problem?”

 

I-hyeon's heart was thundering as though he were standing at the edge of a great height. His thoughts went blank. He had no idea what to say or how to say it.

 

He could only stand there, pale-faced, glaring at Seung-hyuk.

 

Bzz. Bzzz.

 

His phone began vibrating in his pocket. It felt like a lifeline thrown to him, a way out of the situation. I-hyeon turned aside and pulled it out. But before he could even see who was calling, the phone vanished from his hand.

 

“…What are you doing?”

 

He lunged for it, but Seung-hyuk shifted his body out of reach. With his head tilted to one side, he was looking at the screen. Only then did I-hyeon's gaze catch the name displayed there.

 

Lee Chan-yang.

 

Seung-hyuk laughed derisively. “Speak of the devil.”

 

“Don't answer it.”

 

His finger moved towards the red decline-call icon. Suddenly, Chan-yang's sly smile flashed through I-hyeon's mind, and terror gripped him. He forced the words out.

 

“Give me my phone.”

 

His icy fingertips closed around Seung-hyuk's wrist. Seung-hyuk watched his face, his own expression hardening. He seemed to clench and release his jaw as he thought, then said quietly, “You know what's strange when I look at you?”

 

“Judging by your expression, you don't even seem that close to that bastard. But every time, you act like a dog on a lead, bending over backwards to please him.”

 

Seung-hyuk's eyes held the relentless scrutiny of a detective across an interrogation table. It felt as though his gaze would strip everything away and expose what was underneath.

 

I-hyeon could not meet it. He turned his head away, only to hear the flat voice beside his ear.

 

“Has Lee Chan-yang got something on you?”

 

“…What?”

 

“Has he threatened to do something if you don't obey him?”

 

It was as though someone had struck him hard on the back of the head.

 

For a moment, the question left him stunned. Then nausea rose in him. What had made his life a living hell was something Seung-hyuk could describe, as though it were nothing, in a single sentence.

 

Hearing the situation laid bare so simply was a shock he had not expected. Thousands of moments of despair reduced to that one sentence left him feeling hollow. Helplessness and self-loathing swept over him in waves. He hated himself so fiercely that he felt he would let anyone push him about however they pleased.

 

He clenched his fist until his short nails dug into his palm, but it did nothing. The words came out sharp on their own.

 

“…Don't talk about things you know nothing about.”

 

He had barely managed to conceal the trembling of his hands and say it, yet Seung-hyuk merely let out a small, humourless laugh.

 

He cupped I-hyeon's cheek with one hand, turned his face towards him and bent to meet his eyes. His voice sounded as though he were forcing himself to keep something down.

 

“Of course I don't know. You won't tell me anything.”

 

“That's why I'm asking. Has something happened?”

 

His face was expressionless, but his eyes blazed. I-hyeon looked up at him just as fiercely. When he saw the reflection of his own face in those black irises, self-loathing rushed in belatedly. His feelings swung out of control.

 

“If I told you…”

 

“Do you honestly think you'd understand?”

 

“What?”

 

“Would anything change if I told you?”

 

He knew he was directing his anger at the wrong person, but he could not stop. Something was boiling up from deep beneath his ribs.

 

It might have been years of hurt, or resentment. Whatever it was, he had spent so long swallowing it that he no longer knew how to contain it once it rose.

 

“No. You couldn't, not even if you died and came back to life.”

 

“You couldn't understand it, or accept it, or fix it.”

 

“…There's nothing you could do. Nothing.”

 

It was an attack made while clutching a blade by its sharp edge.

 

He wanted to blame Seung-hyuk for everything: for falling in love with him, for Chan-yang finding out, for being trapped in a miserable life drowning in feelings he could barely endure. Yet no one knew better than I-hyeon himself that none of it was Seung-hyuk's fault.

 

Every word he spoke only made him feel more wretched. It was as though he had been thrown onto a floor lower than any he had known before.

 

“… ”

 

At some point, the phone had stopped vibrating. A heavy silence settled around them, so thick it seemed to choke him.

 

He was sickened by himself for letting matters reach this point. His lips twisted as he dropped his eyes and took his phone back from Seung-hyuk's hand.

 

“Kwon I—”

 

“I'm leaving.”

 

Before Seung-hyuk could finish saying his name, I-hyeon stepped away.

 

He hid his devastation behind an expressionless face and pushed open the rooftop door. His hand trembled around his phone as he descended the stairs. He could barely remember what he had said up there moments earlier, but he made himself keep walking, as though everything were fine.

 

There could not be much of the lunch break left. The corridors were busier than when he had come up. The students passing him wore the same colour name badges as his own, but their faces were unfamiliar.

 

I-hyeon hurriedly looked towards a sign on the wall.

 

Only then did he realise why the surroundings had felt wrong. He had come down through the wrong building.

 

He was in the annexe where the third-year classes towards the end of the year were based. That meant there was a greater chance of running into Chan-yang.

 

Even if his classroom was the only place he could go, getting out of this building had to come first. He turned quickly towards the exit.

 

“Hey.”

 

Fast footsteps approached from behind, and someone appeared to block his way. A familiar scent reached him first; then he found himself facing a broad chest with a name badge pinned to it.

 

“What did you mean when you said I couldn't do anything?”

 

If Lee Chan-yang was the person I-hyeon least wanted to see right now, Gu Seung-hyuk came a close second. Biting hard into his lower lip, he tried stepping around him.

 

“Move. The bell's about to go. I have to get back.”

 

He had not managed a single step before he was stopped. Seung-hyuk's hands gripped both his upper arms, between his shoulders and elbows.

 

“Explain what you meant so I can understand.”

 

The low voice, held under tight control, sounded almost like a growl. Seung-hyuk bent to bring their eyes level and searched his face relentlessly.

 

I-hyeon turned away from that piercing stare. Then he spotted someone and froze.

 

*Not today. Please. It doesn't have to be today. At least not right now.*

 

“We'll talk another time.”

 

“Gu Seung-hyuk, I said we'll talk another time…!”

 

He had to leave before Chan-yang noticed him. He could not imagine what the older boy would say if he found them together.

 

I-hyeon twisted, trying to pull out of Seung-hyuk's hands, but Seung-hyuk frowned and tightened his grip. During the struggle, I-hyeon looked towards the end of the corridor again. This time, his eyes met Chan-yang's.

 

The corner of Chan-yang's mouth had lifted when he spotted I-hyeon. When he noticed Seung-hyuk standing beside him, the smile spread wider. After saying something to the friends around him, he strode towards them.

 

It was hopeless. I-hyeon lowered his head and shut his eyes. A voice sounded above him.

 

“I wondered what Gu Seung-hyuk was doing outside the third-year classrooms. Here you are with our I-hyeon.”

 

“Wow. You two look good standing next to each other. Really suit each other, don't you?”

 

Even the teasing insinuation was enough to send uncontrollable fear washing over him. It was worse because Chan-yang approached looking thoroughly entertained.

 

I-hyeon pushed Seung-hyuk's hands away more roughly than before. Chan-yang sniggered at the sharp sound as Seung-hyuk's arms were knocked aside.

 

“So what were you two talking about that had this little bastard looking so serious?”

 

For something supposedly muttered to himself, Chan-yang said it remarkably loudly. He had both hands in his trouser pockets as he leant towards Seung-hyuk and made an exaggerated show of peering at him. Anyone could see that he was mocking him, and I-hyeon grew more anxious.

 

He caught Chan-yang's arm.

 

“It's nothing. Lunch is almost over. Come on, we'd better go.”

 

He tried pushing Chan-yang away, but the older boy did not move an inch. He simply raised an eyebrow and stared at Seung-hyuk. Seung-hyuk, meanwhile, was looking lower down — at I-hyeon's hand gripping Chan-yang's arm.

 

“No. Hey, I-hyeon. Let go of this for a second.”

 

“… ”

 

“I said let go.”

 

Chan-yang scowled at Seung-hyuk's refusal to react. He finally peeled I-hyeon's hand away and stepped closer.

 

“Oi, Gu Seung-hyuk.”

 

“You don't even greet your hyung any more?”

 

Chan-yang looked him up and down with a twisted smile. Then he waved his open hand from side to side in front of Seung-hyuk's face.

 

“Is your head stuck so far up in the air now that you can't see the people beneath you?”

 

Even faced with such blatant insults, Seung-hyuk said nothing. The other students passing by were the ones glancing nervously towards them.

 

With each second, Chan-yang's hostile stare grew fiercer, while Seung-hyuk's remained perfectly dry. He only opened his mouth when his gaze shifted from I-hyeon's hand to his face.

 

“When, exactly, is 'another time'?”

 

“…What?”

 

“Is there even going to *be* another time for me?”

 

I-hyeon lifted his head in surprise. His lips parted, then pressed together again. It had taken him a moment to realise that Seung-hyuk was answering what he had said just before Chan-yang interrupted.

 

Seung-hyuk stared straight at him and frowned.

 

“You're going to avoid me. Just like last time.”

 

It was a certainty born of the not-so-distant past. I-hyeon found no answer. The moment he clenched his fist and looked away, a derisive laugh came from beside them.

 

“Ah, fuck. These two are making a whole bloody film together and leaving everyone else out again.”

 

“Seung-hyuk. Maybe it's because nobody taught you properly, but when someone speaks to you, you're supposed to at least pretend to listen.”

 

Deliberately dragging out his words, Chan-yang poked Seung-hyuk near the shoulder with his forefinger.

 

“That's called manners, you ignorant little shit. Got it?”

 

Smack. Before the words had even finished, Seung-hyuk knocked his hand away. He tipped his head back and shut his eyes, as though struggling to restrain himself. The muscles along his taut jaw gave a faint twitch.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey?”

 

“If you don't want to be humiliated in front of all these kids, learn when to stick your nose in and when to stay out.”

 

He looked down at Chan-yang with eyes that flashed dangerously.

 

“I'm talking to *him* right now.”

 

Chan-yang flinched for an instant at the openly displayed anger. Then his face turned red with fury as he heard the contempt in every word. He could no longer conceal his hostility, and his fist rose.

 

“Ha… Have you lost your fucking mind?”

 

Thud.

 

Seung-hyuk's head snapped to the side. Someone passing by drew in a sharp breath.

 

He remained with his head turned for a moment, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek. Then his eyes slid upwards and he straightened. No sooner had he let out a long breath than his own fist slammed into Chan-yang's face.

 

Thwack.

 

Chan-yang staggered and crashed to the floor. Some of the students who had been passing stopped at the impact, but Seung-hyuk paid them no attention. He crouched over Chan-yang.

 

As Chan-yang wiped his split lip with the back of his hand, Seung-hyuk seized him by the collar and hauled him up.

 

“Lee Chan-yang.”

 

“… ”

 

“Don't push your luck while I'm still letting things slide.”

 

There was a cold fury in his downward gaze. Tilting his head, he ground out the words.

 

“Before I actually fucking kill you.”

 

With a sharp movement, Seung-hyuk released him. Chan-yang's head dropped back down. Seung-hyuk got up, his teeth clenched tight.

 

By then, students had begun clustering around them, whispering and murmuring. No one dared speak loudly. They merely exchanged glances and muttered among themselves.

 

Seung-hyuk tasted blood where he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. He looked around and scowled, then turned and caught I-hyeon by the wrist.

 

“Let's go somewhere else. I want to finish what we were talking about.”

 

“Let go.”

 

“I said let go of me!”

 

His hand was wrenched free before they had taken a step. Seung-hyuk turned back, suppressing his anger, to find I-hyeon glaring at him with a face drained of colour. Their sharp gazes collided, and a terrible silence hung between them.

 

From a little way off came the voices of Chan-yang's friends, who had finally decided to come over, saying something as they approached. Seung-hyuk turned his head irritably. When he saw them, his face twisted. He ground his teeth and spoke in an even lower voice.

 

“After lessons, meet me in the caretaker's room behind the incinerator. We'll talk there.”

 

“…I don't have anything more to say to you.”

 

“No. Think again. You *do* have something to tell me.”

 

He spoke without looking at I-hyeon, his voice flat. Yet he sounded more certain than ever. His indifferent gaze, fixed on the people fussing around Chan-yang as though they were rubbish, stood in sharp contrast to that certainty.

 

After a moment, he spoke to I-hyeon again.

 

“We'll talk later.”

 

I-hyeon watched his back retreat and clenched his fist. Chan-yang's curses behind him, the puzzled glances cast in his direction, a teacher's distant shouting — everything had become a disaster.

 

Worst of all was the fact that, even now, what he kept thinking about was the cheek Seung-hyuk had been punched on.

 

Standing with his head lowered in the middle of the chaotic corridor, I-hyeon parted his lips.

 

“…I'm not going.”

 

“I told you clearly. I'm not.”

 

He said it just loudly enough for Seung-hyuk, only a few paces away, to hear.

The phone in I-hyeon's pocket gave a short vibration long after the final bell, at an hour when all his classmates would already have gone home.

 

Chan-yang pulled his lips away from I-hyeon's and ran his thumb over his own damp mouth before straightening his trousers. Then he went to the basin, washed his hands and turned his face this way and that in the mirror.

 

“Hey. In a few days, we're all meeting up at the hideout with some kids from the school next door. Don't even think about skipping it. You'd better show up.”

 

Pressing the back of his hand against his split lip, he turned his head towards I-hyeon, who was standing against the wall with his eyes lowered. Chan-yang gave him a slanting look when he received no answer, but said nothing more. He yanked the bathroom door open and slammed it behind him.

 

It was a small bathroom on the fourth floor, near the science rooms, where few people passed. Only when Chan-yang was gone could I-hyeon finally breathe again.

 

He closed his eyes and tipped his head back against the wall. His mouth felt raw when he ran his tongue over it; there was a metallic taste, as though the inside had been cut.

 

He stood there in a daze for a long time. Another short vibration finally roused him.

 

The only name that came to mind was the one that had not left his thoughts since he had ignored the instruction to come to the caretaker's room the previous evening and gone home instead.

 

But when he checked the screen, he found an advertisement from an unknown number. He deleted the message, gripped his phone tightly and closed his eyes.

 

He had expected Seung-hyuk to come looking for him as soon as he arrived at school. Instead, the entire day had passed without a word. He ought to be relieved if Seung-hyuk had finally given up on him. Yet, for some reason, his insides burned.

 

*No. This is right. Better to grow apart like this than to have the person I love look at me with disgust.*

 

When he thought about it, this was the very bathroom he had fled into after hearing what Seung-hyuk said in the infirmary. He could still remember vividly what he had felt as he clung to the toilet and retched.

 

More than anything, it had been fear.

 

The fear that the look of revulsion might one day be directed at him instead of someone else. The dread of seeing eyes that had been gentle turn contemptuous.

 

He did not think he could bear that moment.

 

I-hyeon opened his eyes and pushed himself away from the wall. After straightening his clothes, he headed towards the staffroom. He took hold of the handle and pushed the door open. Amid the bustle of teachers finishing their work, he spotted the head of year responsible for the mentoring programme and approached him.

 

“Good afternoon.”

 

The teacher looked up from his computer in surprise.

 

“Oh. What can I do for you?”

 

“I'm Kwon I-hyeon, in the third year. I've come to say that I don't think I can carry on with the mentoring programme.”

 

At the mention of his name, the head of year raised a hand to scratch above his eyebrow, looking as though he had been expecting this visit. He took a file from the shelf before him, opened it and scanned the list inside.

 

“Let's see… Your partner's Gu Seung-hyuk, isn't he?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Right. Thought you'd come to see me sooner or later. What can you do with someone like him, eh?”

 

“That lad's a gangster, isn't he? I don't know why he volunteered for something like this in the first place… Tsk.”

 

The teacher clicked his tongue and shook his head, evidently satisfied that he understood the situation.

 

I-hyeon looked up at him, then lowered his eyes again. He wanted to argue that he had thought the same thing at first, but that Gu Seung-hyuk had actually attended the sessions quite conscientiously. He wanted to say that his decision to quit was entirely his own fault. He could not make himself speak.

 

Thinking how accustomed Seung-hyuk must be to such casual prejudice made him feel sick. I-hyeon bit his lower lip and forced the feeling down.

 

“All right. Strictly speaking, you're not supposed to withdraw, but I'll just put it down as though you never joined the programme. That means you'll lose all the volunteering hours you've earned so far. You're happy with that?”

 

“…Yes.”

 

“Right, then. Tell Gu Seung-hyuk yourself. Off you go.”

 

I-hyeon bowed and left the staffroom.

 

The corridor was quiet now that everyone had gone home. His footsteps echoed as he walked. It occurred to him that Seung-hyuk might have come to their classroom for mentoring while Chan-yang had him cornered. But none of it mattered any more.

 

He decided to collect his bag and go straight home. He pushed open his classroom door.

 

Someone was sitting in the middle of the otherwise empty room.

 

Late sunlight streamed through the windows, wrapping the seated figure in a wavering golden haze. I-hyeon instinctively looked at the clock above the blackboard. The hands told him that an hour and a half had passed since the end of the school day.

 

He took half a step backwards without meaning to. Then he clenched and unclenched his fist and walked inside. Seung-hyuk was wearing ordinary clothes rather than his school uniform. He must have come back after it was time to go home. Sitting with his chair turned around, he was looking down at a book.

 

I-hyeon made an effort to ignore him and began packing his bag.

 

“… ”

 

His hand stopped as he took a revision book and pencil case out of the desk. He had caught a glimpse of Seung-hyuk's face, and it was in the worst state he had ever seen.

 

He ignored the anxious thudding of his heart and forced himself to put the book away. Then he heard a self-mocking laugh.

 

“You don't even ask if I'm all right any more.”

 

I-hyeon went still. Seung-hyuk set down the pen he had been holding, leant back in his chair and raised his head.

 

“I waited in that shed until ten last night, you know.”

 

“… ”

 

“Gets fucking cold in there once the sun goes down. Thought I was going to freeze to death.”

 

His voice was as light as could be, but I-hyeon felt unable to breathe. He swallowed, cleared his tight throat and answered softly.

 

“I told you I wasn't coming.”

 

Seung-hyuk looked down with a faint smile.

 

“You did.”

 

“… ”

 

“Didn't realise you were quite that determined.”

 

I-hyeon bit his lower lip and resumed packing. He shoved books and notebooks haphazardly into his bag, no longer caring which was which. He had just zipped it shut and lifted it when Seung-hyuk snatched it from his hand.

 

He hung the bag from a hook on the desk on the side away from I-hyeon, then nodded towards the desktop.

 

“Where are you going? Mentoring isn't over yet.”

 

His voice sounded suppressed, cold. So did the way he kept his gaze on the edge of the desk rather than meeting I-hyeon's eyes.

 

I-hyeon looked down at the crown of his head and stayed silent for a moment before replying.

 

“I've told the teacher I'm quitting.”

 

“The entrance exam's coming up. I realised I haven't got time to waste messing about with you.”

 

Silence fell the instant he finished speaking. Only the regular click, click of Seung-hyuk's pen against the desk could be heard. The longer the silence stretched, the drier I-hyeon's mouth became.

 

Just as he took hold of the strap of his hanging bag, a quiet, scornful laugh reached him.

 

“That's the conclusion you've come to?”

 

Seung-hyuk rose and stepped into his path.

 

“Throw everything away and run?”

 

With his view blocked, I-hyeon felt more trapped than ever. Turning his head aside, he said hurriedly, “Move. I need to get out.”

 

“Why? Has Lee Chan-yang told you to quit this too?”

 

“Think whatever you like.”

 

Escaping as quickly as possible seemed his only option. Biting his lower lip, I-hyeon tried stepping to one side. At that moment, warmth closed around his wrist.

 

“Hey, Kwon I-hyeon.”

 

“Let go!”

 

His heart seemed to fall out of his chest and crash to the floor. I-hyeon violently wrenched his hand free.

 

Seung-hyuk's eyes went to his own hand, left hanging in the air. A smile that never quite became a laugh escaped him in a breath and disappeared. Shocked by his own action, I-hyeon took a step back. He clenched his teeth against the feeling that the ground might give way beneath him.

 

Then Seung-hyuk spoke.

 

“Did you find out I'm a fucking orphan and suddenly decide you don't want anything to do with me?”

 

“What?”

 

“Or did you hear my father's a gangster and get scared?”

 

His voice was so even it sounded pitiful. More than that — it sounded desperate. I-hyeon could do nothing but roll his tongue around in his mouth for a moment before finally managing to speak.

 

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

 

“You've been like this ever since you spent the night at the office.”

 

“…It's not that.”

 

“Then why are you suddenly acting this way?” His low voice dropped further. “There has to be a reason.”

 

He stepped closer as he said it. I-hyeon's pulse quickened. He turned his head to hide the uncertainty in his eyes. He had never imagined Seung-hyuk might think something like that, and hearing it was devastating. His lie came out sounding like a flimsy excuse.

 

“I got my mock-exam results a while ago and realised I need to get my act together. You might not be planning to go to university, but I am. I have to get in. I have to study… That's all.”

 

Even he could hear how feeble it sounded. Seung-hyuk said nothing. He merely tilted his head and took another step closer.

 

As I-hyeon was about to lean away from the unbearable closeness, Seung-hyuk's fingers turned his school collar aside. A cold, humourless laugh slipped between his closed lips.

 

“You've still got time to make marks like this, though.”

 

I-hyeon remembered Chan-yang pressing his lips to the back of his neck in the bathroom earlier. He knocked Seung-hyuk's hand away, but Seung-hyuk had already seen the reddish mark.

 

Unable to think of an excuse, I-hyeon clutched at his collar. Seung-hyuk watched his white-knuckled hand for a moment before giving a hollow laugh.

 

“You ought to cover up marks like that before telling me something you expect me to pretend to believe.”

 

His expression cold, Seung-hyuk rubbed at his eyes. His fingers pressed roughly against his eyelids. He kept his eyes shut and said nothing for a while, as though thinking.

 

“…But Kwon I-hyeon.”

 

“There's something I need to ask. Just in case. Even though I really hope I'm wrong.”

 

His eyes suddenly opened and fixed on I-hyeon without wavering.

 

“The person who left that mark — was it actually a girl?”

 

“…What?”

 

At the question, the world seemed to spin. His breathing stopped. Every part of his body went rigid. He felt so dizzy he might collapse at any second, yet the only thought he could grasp was that Seung-hyuk must not find out.

 

Slap!

 

The sharp sound cut through the room.

 

When I-hyeon came back to himself, Seung-hyuk was standing with his head turned to one side, his eyes lowered, while I-hyeon's own hand hung in the air.

 

For a moment he froze. Then he hastily clenched that hand into a fist and lowered it.

 

“Watch what you say to people.”

 

He had deliberately put force into his voice to conceal its trembling, yet the words faded almost to a whisper at the end. I-hyeon took a step backwards without meaning to. Even now, his unsteady gaze was fixed on Seung-hyuk.

 

Seung-hyuk gave a bitter smile and sank weakly against the desk behind him.

 

“Ah, seriously…”

 

“That fucking hurts, I-hyeon.”

 

He brushed his thumb across his mouth, looked down at his fingers and let out a quiet laugh.

 

His face had fallen into such a weary, desolate expression that it looked brittle enough to crumble. At last I-hyeon managed to tear his eyes away. He gulped air like someone whose head had been held underwater.

 

His fingertips felt not merely cold but numb. There was nothing for it but to run. He adjusted his grip on his bag and hurried towards the front door. He had just caught the handle when Seung-hyuk spoke behind him.

 

“You said you'd go wherever I went.”

 

“Kwon I-hyeon.”

 

The words stopped him in his tracks.

 

“Is this what you meant by friendship?”

 

The question sounded as though Seung-hyuk had forced every trace of emotion down to say it as evenly as possible. I-hyeon's throat closed the moment he heard it. He looked down, clutching the door handle because the ground seemed to have dropped away under his feet. But the floor was still there. Only his heart had fallen into pieces.

 

I-hyeon squeezed his eyes shut. He knew that once he said what he was about to say, there would be no going back. Yet he could think of no other way. This was the best ending he could imagine: not a happy one, but the only way he knew to prevent a catastrophe.

 

“…I'm sorry, but…”

 

The whispered words left a metallic taste on his tongue. Biting his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, I-hyeon spoke into the darkness.

 

“I never said I'd be your friend.”

 

Click. The door opened, and I-hyeon's slippers crossed the line separating the classroom from the corridor.

 

His feet felt as heavy as if he were wading through a bog. He pressed both hands over his eyes, trying to forget the hollow, disbelieving laugh he thought he had heard behind him just before he left the room.

 

“Hey, Kwon I-hyeon!”

 

The students who were lingering after form period, slowly getting ready to leave, all looked towards the classroom door as it burst open. But Chan-yang paid no attention to the stares. He marched inside as though he owned the place.

 

“I called you at lunchtime. Why didn't you pick up?”

 

He stopped beside I-hyeon's desk and nudged the chair with his foot. I-hyeon, who had been putting books into his bag, paused for an instant before continuing.

 

“My phone was on silent. I didn't notice.”

 

“You weren't in the classroom either.”

 

“I went to the staffroom. My form teacher wanted me.”

 

Chan-yang frowned and studied I-hyeon's face as though trying to decide if he was telling the truth. But the pale face looked as expressionless as ever. After watching him pack for a moment, Chan-yang shrugged and nodded towards the door.

 

“Come with me. Do I seriously have to come all the way here to collect you?”

 

“…What for?”

 

“And what are you going to do with that information? Is it so fucking difficult to keep your mouth shut and follow me?”

 

When Chan-yang snapped at him, I-hyeon felt his classmates glancing over. Similar scenes had happened several times before, and their looks were far from sympathetic.

 

Was Chan-yang trying to isolate him completely at school? I-hyeon swallowed the sigh rising in his throat and hurriedly finished packing.

 

Chan-yang led him to a deserted basement flat tucked into a corner of the old residential district. It was the place he and his friends called their hideout. I-hyeon did not know whose home it had been, or how long they had been using it, but whenever they had time to kill, Chan-yang and his friends often gathered there.

 

Today was no exception. The smell of alcohol hit him as they descended the mouldy steps and pushed open the door, its paint peeling away. People lounging on the floor and sofas looked up from the little television towards the entrance. Some of the faces were familiar; others were not.

 

“Oi, move further inside, will you? Fuck, who's spilt booze already? It absolutely stinks in here.”

 

Chan-yang grimaced, caught I-hyeon by the wrist and led him to a sofa further inside. As soon as he sat down, someone tossed him a paper cup and a pair of disposable wooden chopsticks. Chuckling and swearing, Chan-yang handed I-hyeon a pair as well, then dragged a box of fried chicken towards them.

 

“Here. Eat.”

 

The cold chicken smelled of stale cooking oil. The pizza lying beside it looked much the same. I-hyeon had not wanted to eat in the first place, and the greasy smell made him feel sick. He kept his mouth shut and rubbed his fingertips together.

 

“Hyung, pass your cup. I'll pour you a drink.”

 

Someone sitting nearby held out a bottle of soju and a bottle of beer towards Chan-yang. He looked about I-hyeon's age, but both his arms were covered in full-sleeve irezumi tattoos. He wore a short-sleeved top despite the weather. After pouring beer and soju into a small paper cup in a peculiar proportion, he nodded towards I-hyeon.

 

“One for him too?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Drink.”

 

It was Chan-yang, not I-hyeon, who answered the man's question. The tattooed boy looked at him curiously, then filled the paper cup in front of I-hyeon as well. The pale-yellow liquid, almost transparent, reached dangerously close to the brim.

 

The boy straightened from where he had leant across the table and sank back against the sofa, snickering.

 

“Wow. At least Chan-yang hyung's still going to school properly. Whenever I try putting on a uniform, I swear my whole body starts itching like I'm about to break out in hives.”

 

“Don't pretend that's why you left school, you twat. They chucked you out for not attending enough. And that's because you got those shitty tattoos somewhere dodgy, you idiot.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. If you're jealous, just say so. Stop talking bollocks. An older guy I know recommended the place.”

 

Their filthy-mouthed bickering drew sniggers from around the room. I-hyeon was the only one sitting rigidly with a frozen expression.

 

Perhaps, once everyone was drunk enough, he could pretend he needed the toilet and slip away. He sat quietly, waiting, when someone spoke to Chan-yang.

 

“Chan-yang hyung, what happened to your lip? Someone hit you?”

 

At the innocent question, Chan-yang scowled. He rubbed a finger over the red scab at the corner of his mouth and silently picked up his paper cup.

 

The mood turned cold in an instant. The boy who had asked glanced around, then changed the subject with a conspicuously awkward laugh.

 

“Oh, hey, Kim Gi-seok. Didn't they find some dead body near your school recently?”

 

“A body? Ah, yeah, heard something about that. Think it was at some abandoned construction site. Dunno. Only caught a bit of it.”

 

“Isn't it bullshit, though? If it was real, wouldn't the police have taped the place off and started investigating? I didn't see anything.”

 

I-hyeon's fingers, which had been fiddling with his paper cup, stopped. He felt as if he had heard that story somewhere before.

 

The tattooed boy opposite him leant forwards, setting down his cup.

 

“Listen. I heard this from a hyung I know, so don't go telling anyone else, all right?”

 

“What is it?”

 

“You know that guy, Jung-su hyung? He started at some little office recently. Well, it looks like a normal company from the outside, but apparently it's gangsters running something like a labour agency.”

 

“Holy fuck.”

 

“No, that's not the important bit. Jung-su hyung met some of the actual people involved while he was working there. And lately, apparently, quite a few people have been dying inside the organisation because of some sort of initiation ceremony or whatever.”

 

He looked around as though he were sharing an enormous secret, then lowered his voice.

 

“But you've got that kid at your school, haven't you? Gu Seung-hyuk?”

 

I-hyeon's face stiffened at the name, which came without warning. Chan-yang frowned as well. The tattooed boy noticed his expression, glanced around once more and said, “Apparently that's his organisation.”

 

It was the first news of Gu Seung-hyuk that I-hyeon had heard since walking away from him that day.

 

They had not even passed each other by chance, and I-hyeon had been consciously avoiding thinking about him. Hearing his name so unexpectedly seized his attention at once.

 

“From what I heard, he seems to be mixed up in it somehow, though I don't know the details. Anyway, it's something involving that organisation, Taeseong or whatever it's called. That's why the police aren't digging into it too hard.”

 

“Think that's why Gu Seung-hyuk hasn't been coming to school much lately?”

 

“Could be. Or, since we're talking about him, why don't you give him a ring and tell him to come for a drink? You can ask him yourself. Don't any of you keep in touch with him?”

 

He took a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one as he spoke. The boy beside him swiftly turned his eyes away. It was the same boy who had been first to run over when Chan-yang lay on the corridor floor after the fight. He checked Chan-yang's expression, then quickly jabbed the tattooed boy in the ribs.

 

“Fuck… Read the room, you idiot.”

 

That seemed to make the tattooed boy understand. Seeing the way his friend's eyes flicked towards Chan-yang, he gave a playful snicker as though the penny had finally dropped.

 

“Oh, was Gu Seung-hyuk the one who did that to Chan-yang hyung?”

 

The casual tone made Chan-yang's face twist. The tattooed boy exhaled smoke and frowned.

 

“Hyung, seriously, stay away from that bloke if you can. He's fucking mental.”

 

“Why?”

 

It was someone else who asked, not Chan-yang. His eyes were full of curiosity. Encouraged by the reaction, the tattooed boy tilted his head as though about to reveal yet another big secret, his cigarette held between his fingers.

 

“I went somewhere with Jung-su hyung the other day, right? And I saw that kid beating the living shit out of someone. Fuck me, even from a distance, it made my blood run cold.”

 

“What was he doing?”

 

“There were these fucking massive guys trying everything they could to pull him off, but he wouldn't budge. Didn't matter what anybody around him did. He just held on to this one bloke and kept punching him like he'd gone mad. Didn't even look human, the way his eyes were. Complete fucking psycho.”

 

White smoke curled around the finger he circled beside his temple. Watching him, I-hyeon clenched his fists.

 

It sounded like a story about someone other than the Gu Seung-hyuk he knew. He neither wanted to hear it nor wanted to believe it.

 

“Ah, shame, though. I was hoping to get to know Gu Seung-hyuk a bit while I had the chance.”

 

Someone sitting beside the tattooed boy joined in. He took the cigarette from his friend's fingers, drew on it, then flicked ash into the air.

 

Through the drifting ash, several pairs of eyes met briefly. After exchanging cautious looks, one of the boys glanced towards Chan-yang and deliberately adopted a cheerful tone.

 

“Forget it. You think Gu Seung-hyuk would come to a dump like this just because we asked? If he's going drinking, he'll go somewhere posh and have girls hanging off him.”

 

“Ah, the lucky fucker. That's something to be jealous of.”

 

The others snickered at the joke. Only Chan-yang and I-hyeon remained unsmiling. Chan-yang stared into space as though considering something and drank from his cup. Then he set it down with a tap.

 

“Why not? Try calling him.”

 

“What?”

 

“Tell him this one's here. He'll come.”

 

The others looked at Chan-yang in puzzlement. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, abruptly lifted his head and nodded towards I-hyeon.

 

“Our I-hyeon and that bloke are best friends. Inseparable, apparently.”

 

Every interested gaze turned towards I-hyeon. He found their appraising looks unpleasant, but there was nothing he could say. He gritted his teeth and stared at the chicken box. Chan-yang's mouth curved upwards.

 

“Then hurry up and give him a ring.”

 

The man beside the tattooed boy grinned and prodded someone with his foot. One of Chan-yang's friends, sitting slouched against the bottom of the sofa and playing a phone game, frowned and looked up.

 

Realising everyone was staring at him, he reluctantly searched through his contacts and called someone.

 

“He's not answering.”

 

I-hyeon could faintly hear the ringing tone, but the call did not connect. He had barely felt relieved when someone tugged on his shoulder, pulling him sharply sideways. A large hand began roughly searching the front of his clothes.

 

“What the hell are you doing?”

 

He turned to find Chan-yang's face much too close. The older boy was frowning as he rummaged through I-hyeon's clothing.

 

I-hyeon twisted, trying to knock his arm away, but Chan-yang caught him by the collar. Holding him firmly in place, he finally pulled the phone from the inside pocket of his jacket and raised an eyebrow.

 

“Gu Seung-hyuk isn't answering.”

 

After tapping the screen a few times with a frown, Chan-yang threw the phone to the boy who had made the earlier call.

 

“Here. Try calling him with that. It's been a while since I saw that bastard's face.”

 

Before I-hyeon could do anything, the boy caught the phone, glanced over it and touched the screen. The display turned black, and the dialling tone began sounding through the speaker. I-hyeon twisted again, but Chan-yang pressed down harder on his shoulder.

 

*Don't answer. Please don't answer.*

 

While laughter and chatter continued softly around him, the ringtone went on and on. Given the way their last conversation had ended, of course Seung-hyuk would not answer. I-hyeon ought to have been grateful for that, yet a strange despair was rising inside him.

 

The boy holding the phone was just about to examine the screen and check the number.

 

Click.

 

The electronic ringing stopped, replaced by a short silence. Then a low, husky voice came through.

 

“If you're going to call, say something.”

 

The cold, flat tone was different from usual. Only I-hyeon heard the exhaustion underneath it.

 

The boy with the phone looked around with widened eyes, then let out an incredulous laugh.

 

“Wow, Seung-hyuk. You ignore my call but answer when it's Kwon I-hyeon's number? If you're going to discriminate that blatantly, your hyung's going to be offended.”

 

“Oh, whatever. That's not why I'm calling. What are you up to?”

 

“Why have you got Kwon I-hyeon's phone?”

 

The boy frowned at the frosty question that came back instead of an answer. *This insolent little shit…* he muttered so softly it could scarcely be heard. Chan-yang spoke over him.

 

“Why do you think? Because he's here with us.”

 

This time there was a longer silence, followed by a hollow, breathless laugh. Taking it as an answer, Chan-yang rotated his paper cup and continued.

 

“We're at the hideout in Wonseok-dong. If you've got nothing else on, come and have a drink. There are people here who want to meet you. And that friend of yours you're so precious about is here too, you know?”

 

He finished with a mocking tone and a faint snort. Chan-yang tilted his mouth and waited for hostility to come through the phone. What he received was a dry answer.

 

“If you're going to talk rubbish, I'm hanging up.”

 

“Hey, I said Kwon I-hyeon's here.”

 

“And?”

 

“What's that got to do with me?”

 

At the answer, devoid of the slightest warmth, Chan-yang's face and I-hyeon's both stiffened.

 

The difference was that I-hyeon seemed to freeze where he sat, while Chan-yang broke into an incredulous smile. He let out a laugh and spoke with mock admiration.

 

“Wow. You were beating people up and making all that fucking fuss over him before. Amazing how quickly a person can change.”

 

Chan-yang's friends began to snicker. I-hyeon pushed his clenched fists, which he had been holding beside his knees, beneath his thighs. His palms ached where his nails had dug in, but he felt that without even that pain, he might forget how to breathe.

 

“Thought you'd be interested. If you're not, fine. We'll have our own fun here. You get on with whatever you're doing.”

 

Chan-yang tilted his head and laughed lightly as he nodded towards the boy holding the phone. The boy hurriedly ended the call and handed it over.

 

“Wow… Kwon I-hyeon. What are you going to do now?”

 

“Looks like he's lost interest in you too.”

 

Chan-yang had been smiling down at the phone. Suddenly he raised his head, tilted it towards I-hyeon and grinned.

 

“Or has he already found out?”

 

He leant so close that his swaying face was directly in front of I-hyeon's. I-hyeon closed his trembling eyelids. A suggestive voice sounded right before his nose.

 

“Thrown away by your parents, and now by your friend…”

 

“I'm the only one who cares about you, I-hyeon.”

 

This was exactly the kind of reaction I-hyeon had prepared himself for when he decided to distance himself from Gu Seung-hyuk. He knew he had brought it on himself and had thought he would be able to endure it calmly. Yet hearing how Seung-hyuk had changed towards him made his heart lurch painfully.

 

It was as though something had been stolen from him, even though he had never possessed it. He despised himself for being so affected by one short remark.

 

Worst of all was that he had to hide even this, no matter how hard it was.

 

“Starting to understand now?”

 

The back of Chan-yang's hand brushed lightly over his pale cheek. I-hyeon slapped it away and bit his sore lower lip.

 

“No, but hyung, there's something I've been wondering about for ages.”

 

A voice full of amusement came from across the room. The tattooed boy was looking towards them, a curious smile on his lips. Taking back his cigarette from his friend, he sat up straighter and leant forward.

 

“What exactly is he?”

 

“Him?”

 

Chan-yang leant back at the question and looked I-hyeon up and down. That sticky, lingering gaze made I-hyeon feel sick. He glared at Chan-yang, who only laughed in disbelief.

 

“Good question, I-hyeon. What *are* you?”

 

“Still haven't understood the situation. Still don't know your own place…”

 

A long finger tapped I-hyeon's cheek.

 

“Who the hell do you think you are? What makes you think you can look at someone like that, eh?”

 

The finger poking his cheek pressed harder each time, gradually turning his head aside. I-hyeon kept his lips tightly shut, clenched his fist and suddenly stood up.

 

“…I'm leaving.”

 

“Sit down. Where do you think you're going?”

 

Before he could take a step, his wrist was seized and his arm yanked sharply downwards. Chan-yang dragged him back and forced him to sit between his spread legs. Wrapping an arm across the front of I-hyeon's neck to keep his smaller body pinned there, he bent his head. A low voice crept into I-hyeon's ear like an insect.

 

“You think you've got somewhere to go?”

 

The solid body behind him, the hand roaming over his shoulder, the clammy breath against his ear — all of it was unbearable. Every curious gaze fixed on them was part of a nightmare. I-hyeon squeezed his eyes shut, but Chan-yang whispered again.

 

“Where are you going to go? Where *can* you go?”

 

“… ”

 

“Home? Church? School?”

 

The mocking whisper continued.

 

“Or what? Going to run back to Gu Seung-hyuk now?”

 

Each jeering word against his ear humiliated him more than the position he had been forced into, half-held in Chan-yang's lap.

 

All of it was true. Even if I-hyeon managed to get out of this place, he really had nowhere to go. Nowhere he could hide and breathe.

 

His family rejected him, while he was doing everything in his power to flee from the one person he could have called a friend. The whole situation suddenly felt like a bog dragging him down. No matter how he struggled, he could not climb out.

 

“I-hyeon, you're not going anywhere. You'll spend the rest of your life right beside me, just like this.”

 

Helplessness crushed him. Over Chan-yang's whisper, Seung-hyuk's cold voice kept repeating: *What's that got to do with me?*

 

Despair rose in waves, crushing his body and mind. All I-hyeon could do was shut his eyes and endure the moment.

 

“Ah, what? So that's what it is?”

 

He was struggling to force air past the tightness in his throat when an understanding, teasing voice sounded beyond the darkness of his closed eyes. Slowly opening them, I-hyeon saw the tattooed boy watching him with a lecherous expression.

 

The boy got up and came towards him. A pizza box lying in his way slid aside with a nudge of his foot.

 

“Hyung, come on. If you've got a boy like this, you should've told me too, yeah?”

 

With his cigarette between two fingers, he caught I-hyeon's chin and lifted it. His gaze was shameless as he turned I-hyeon's face this way and that, examining him. The glowing end of the cigarette hovered alarmingly near his cheek, making his already tense expression stiffen further.

 

Noticing it, the boy grinned and brought his face closer. Acrid cigarette smoke drifted across I-hyeon's pale features.

 

“Oi, you fucking prick, put that cigarette out.”

 

Chan-yang's irritated voice came from behind, but the boy seemed unbothered. He casually dodged the kick Chan-yang aimed at his shin, drew hard on the cigarette once more, then crushed it against the yellowing wallpaper.

 

“Hey, you're even prettier up close.”

 

“Such pale skin. And such a small mouth.”

 

The fingers exploring near I-hyeon's chin suddenly pushed between his lips.

 

“Bet it's tight in there too.”

 

The thick thumb pressed against his tongue and the inside of his cheek. I-hyeon stared at him in shock and jerked his head away. The boy merely snickered, finding it entertaining.

 

“Chan-yang hyung, mind if I borrow him for a little while?”

 

“I'll use him and bring him straight back. All right?”

 

Seeing the boy laugh as he fiddled with his belt, I-hyeon was abruptly terrified. *Surely not.* He clutched at the leg of Chan-yang's trousers, but heard only a low laugh. Chan-yang made no move to stop him.

 

Suddenly he understood, with terrible clarity, that if anything happened to him here, no one would help.

 

Every person sitting around him was one of Chan-yang's friends. There was nobody on his side. Even worse was the knowledge that the same would be true if he managed to get away from this place.

 

“You mad bastard. If you're going to do that, take him into the bedroom.”

 

Someone threw a crisp at the boy and snickered, setting off laughter around the room. The boy crouched in front of I-hyeon and met his eyes, then laid a hand over I-hyeon's white-knuckled fist.

 

“Shall we, then? Hey, what was your name again? I-hyeon? Come into the next room with me for a bit, I-hyeon.”

 

“Get your hand off…”

 

“I'll treat you better than Chan-yang hyung.”

 

Every stroke of the hot fingers across the back of his hand sent a shiver of disgust down I-hyeon's spine. Trapped between Chan-yang and the other boy, unable to move while they toyed with him, he felt not only pathetic but sickened by himself.

 

He lowered his head to avoid the boy's gaze. The boy caught his chin and lifted it again, bringing his face close enough that their lips might touch at any moment.

 

Clank.

 

At that moment, the heavy door swung open.

 

The metallic sound was followed by a sudden rush of rain, as though a curtain of water had fallen into the room. The noisy flat went momentarily silent. The face blocking I-hyeon's view finally drew back.

 

“Oh, what? Gu Seung-hyuk's here? Hey, is it raining outside?”

 

I-hyeon barely took in the voice. As though entranced, he slowly turned his head.

 

Seung-hyuk stood in the doorway, soaked to the skin, wearing a black bomber jacket and a black baseball cap pulled low. While someone bustled about saying they would fetch a towel, his eyes met I-hyeon's.

 

The moment their gazes locked, Seung-hyuk's firmly closed mouth twisted.

 

“Ah… fuck…”

 

“So you really are here.”

 

A breath escaped his lips. He let out a hollow laugh and covered his eyes with his palm. His low, self-mocking voice sounded as though he had just seen something he desperately wanted not to believe. The husky, subdued tone lay heavy as night mist.

 

“Hey, Seung-hyuk, how did you actually get here? I didn't think you were coming.”

 

“… ”

 

“Were you nearby? It hasn't been long since we called.”

 

A cold draught reached I-hyeon through the open doorway. A terrible premonition rose along his spine and spread across his body, leaving him rigid. Behind his neck came a laugh so quiet he could barely hear it.

 

“Ah, fuck. I've got no umbrella. I'm screwed. Oi, Gu Seung-hyuk, here's a towel.”

 

Chan-yang's friends sprawled about the room greeted Seung-hyuk with an exaggerated show of familiarity, but he did not answer any of them. He merely stared at one place, looking a little more tired than usual.

 

The tattooed boy noticed and rose from in front of I-hyeon with a broad smile. Stepping over the discarded bottles, he approached Seung-hyuk and held out his hand.

 

“So you're Gu Seung-hyuk?”

 

“… ”

 

“I've heard a lot about you from a hyung I know. He works somewhere connected to your company.”

 

When Seung-hyuk ignored his outstretched hand, the boy shook it slightly, apparently embarrassed. Still there was no answer. Raising an eyebrow, he followed Seung-hyuk's gaze.

 

Seung-hyuk was staring at I-hyeon, who sat almost cradled in Chan-yang's arms. A sly smile spread across the tattooed boy's face.

 

“Wow. Did you really run all the way here through the rain because you heard your friend was here?”

 

“… ”

 

“Or did you come hoping to have a bit of fun with him too?”

 

The tattooed boy snickered as though it were a joke and gave Seung-hyuk's stomach a little tap. Seung-hyuk caught his arm and wrenched it behind his back.

 

“Agh!”

 

The easy atmosphere changed in an instant.

 

“Fuck! Oi, agh! Let go! Fuck!”

 

The boy writhed, groaning with pain as his arm twisted. Those sitting nearby started to rise in alarm.

 

Only Chan-yang remained motionless at the centre. Wearing a leisurely smile, he rested his chin on I-hyeon's shoulder and looked up at Seung-hyuk.

 

“You said you weren't coming, then ran over like a dog with its tail on fire.”

 

“No, wait. More like… a drowned rat?”

 

Chan-yang let out a little laugh, one side of his mouth rising. At the same moment, another agonised cry escaped the tattooed boy, whose arm was still twisted behind him.

 

The boy kept squirming, trying to find a position that hurt less. Watching with a tilted brow, Chan-yang clicked his tongue.

 

“You'll break his arm, you know. If you've come to hang out, sit down quietly. No need to make such a fuss.”

 

It was said as lightly as a joke, but Seung-hyuk's expression hardened further. Chan-yang had turned to press his face against I-hyeon's neck.

 

He set his nose against the smooth skin and lifted his eyes from a distance where his lips almost touched. Looking up at Seung-hyuk, he grinned.

 

“Ease up with that death stare, you bastard. Anyone who didn't know better would think we'd been keeping your boyfriend here.”

 

Seung-hyuk watched the cruel curve of Chan-yang's mouth, then abruptly shifted his gaze to I-hyeon. I-hyeon looked away the instant their eyes met. It was fear that he could not control, but to Seung-hyuk it could only seem a deliberate rejection. His eyes flashed dangerously.

 

The angrier Seung-hyuk became, the wider Chan-yang smiled and the more brazen his behaviour grew. When I-hyeon tried to push away the hand around his waist and found their fingers forcibly entwined instead, nausea had merely risen in his throat. But when Chan-yang's lips touched the side of his Adam's apple, he thought he might be sick.

 

Anyone watching would have drawn the wrong conclusion from the way they were sitting. He could not bear the fact that the person seeing him like this was Gu Seung-hyuk, of all people. I-hyeon struggled to free himself from Chan-yang's embrace, but to anyone else the movement would have looked like little more than shifting in his seat.

 

Seung-hyuk watched, gave a hollow laugh and released the tattooed boy's wrist with a shove.

 

“Ah, fuck…”

 

The boy stumbled, barely regained his balance and seized his wrist. After glaring at Seung-hyuk, he kicked an empty box. Then, still fuming, he stormed out through the front door.

 

The door slammed loudly, as though the sound had broken the mood in the flat. Only then did Chan-yang lift his chin from I-hyeon's shoulder and lean his head against the wall.

 

“Going to stand there all night?”

 

He took out a cigarette, put it between his lips and lit it with his eyes lowered. Exhaling smoke through one narrowed eye, he gave Seung-hyuk a lazy nod.

 

“At least wipe the water off yourself. You'll turn the floor into a bloody river.”

 

Chan-yang chuckled at his own joke, entirely unconcerned by the icy silence in the room. Then he pretended to wipe away tears of laughter while looking at Seung-hyuk's frightening expression, and nudged I-hyeon's leg with the tip of his foot.

 

“This won't do, I-hyeon. Go and wipe your friend's face for him.”

 

“The floor'll grow mould if it gets wet. Hurry up.”

 

With the cigarette in his mouth, Chan-yang grabbed I-hyeon's arm and shoved him forwards. As I-hyeon was hauled roughly to his feet, everyone except Seung-hyuk turned to look at him.

 

He stood there unable to move, staring anxiously at somewhere near Seung-hyuk's shoes. Someone called, “Here,” and offered a towel. But Chan-yang snatched it first and tossed it into a corner. He tilted his head towards I-hyeon.

 

“Come on. It wouldn't be any fun if you just used a towel.”

 

“You've got your clothes, haven't you, I-hyeon?”

 

Following Chan-yang's gaze, I-hyeon looked down at his white school shirt, buttoned to the collar. Chan-yang was smiling brightly just behind him.

 

His intention was obvious. He wanted I-hyeon to feel ashamed.

 

I-hyeon knew perfectly well that it was a malicious trick, but he saw no way to avoid it. If Chan-yang wanted to watch him flounder in the mud, he would have to step into it.

 

Breathing became steadily harder as I-hyeon slowly lifted his hands. The tips of his long, pale fingers reached the top button at his collar.

 

Pop. Pop. He undid the buttons one by one, but the choking sensation around his throat and chest did not ease. If anything, it grew worse.

 

He tried his best to hide his panting, but his shoulders would not stop shaking. At last, with every button undone, he slipped his arms out of the sleeves. Clutching the crisp fabric as tightly as if it were a lifeline, he was about to take a step.

 

“Ah, hang on. Lend me that for a second.”

 

Chan-yang snatched the shirt from his hands. Finding a clean, wide section of white cloth, he wiped his mouth with it. Then he pressed the burning end of his cigarette into it, grinding it out as though crushing a stub into a damp napkin.

 

I-hyeon's face went beyond rigid and turned deathly pale as he watched. Chan-yang rubbed until the ember was entirely extinguished, then grinned and nodded towards him.

 

“What? You've still got another shirt on.”

 

All I-hyeon had left was the white short-sleeved T-shirt he had worn beneath his uniform shirt. He looked at Chan-yang, unable to believe what he was hearing. Chan-yang merely shrugged with a perfectly innocent expression.

 

I-hyeon instinctively stepped backwards. Chan-yang's smile vanished. He got to his feet with a grunt, rested his forehead against I-hyeon's shoulder and muttered softly.

 

“I-hyeon. Kwon I-hyeon. Are you asking to show him something worse than this?”

 

“Shall we try it?”

 

I-hyeon shut his eyes and swallowed his breath as soon as he heard the whisper, desperately trying to withstand the sensation of falling. For better or worse, even though he felt he had been smashed against the ground, the scene in front of him had not changed.

 

Chan-yang gave his back a little push. I-hyeon's feet stopped in front of Seung-hyuk.

 

The chill rising from Seung-hyuk's soaked clothes brushed his exposed arms. The damp smell of rain settled around their feet instead of drifting away. There could be no poison in it, yet I-hyeon felt he might suffocate. He opened his mouth to take a breath and thought his insides might spill out.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

The four words froze the hand gathering up the hem of his T-shirt. Seung-hyuk's gaze travelled down from I-hyeon's eyes, nose, lips and throat before coming to rest on the pale stomach exposed to the air.

 

For a moment, the world seemed to stop with a high, piercing ring. Then it felt as though someone had pressed a button and shattered everything at once. I-hyeon tugged his shirt up again.

 

“…Bend your head a little.”

 

His heels lifted so he could reach the much taller boy. His T-shirt was stretched desperately up beneath his chest. His white fingers, his breath held to its limit — every part of it felt like another cut tearing him apart.

 

And over the wreckage, Chan-yang's sniggering went to work once more.

 

“Hey. Your friend's asking you to play along, Seung-hyuk. There are people watching. You'll embarrass I-hyeon.”

 

“Right, I-hyeon?”

 

His hand trembled uncontrollably as he stretched the pale fabric higher, but he still could not reach. Seung-hyuk's gaze settled on the hand shaking in mid-air.

 

Then—

 

“Hey.”

 

Seung-hyuk's voice fell from above him, hoarse and ragged in a way I-hyeon had never heard before.

 

“Is this what you call having fun?”

 

“… ”

 

“Is this how you spend time with the bastards you call your friends?”

 

Smack. Seung-hyuk struck his hand aside. At the same time, a fiercely burning gaze met him.

 

Seung-hyuk seemed to sift through everything he could say and everything he must not, until he finally said nothing at all. He stared at the blaze of anger eating through his veins.

 

But I-hyeon could not meet his eyes. All he could do was keep his gaze lowered and pray for the moment to end.

 

“…Please bend down.”

 

Seung-hyuk, who had been struggling to force down his anger, closed his eyes at those words. His lips twisted into an expression that might have been laughter or grief. A humourless breath escaped him before he said in a hollow voice,

 

“I can't keep doing this any more. Playing along with you.”

 

“Live however the hell you like.”

 

For the first time, Seung-hyuk was the one who turned away, leaving I-hyeon standing there as though his feet had been nailed to the floor. He brushed past the tattooed boy, who was just coming back inside, and walked out without looking back. The iron door slammed, cutting off the rain that had briefly been audible outside.

 

“What the fuck is wrong with that lunatic?”

 

“Why? It was funny. Got to see something pretty unusual.”

 

“Funny, my arse… Fuck, I thought he was going to snap my wrist.”

 

Interested eyes began settling on the skin the cold air had touched. It made him shudder as though wet grains of sand were sticking to him. Emotions he could not describe smothered his mouth like a damp cloth. And I-hyeon knew what those feelings were called.

 

His tightly closed eyes saw darkness, then whiteness. In the hopeless blankness of his mind, all he wanted was to crumble to dust and scatter.

 

The kind of time that made him feel so wretched he wanted to vomit, so awful he could scarcely bear it.

 

*Live however the hell you like, Gu Seung-hyuk? I've never wanted to die as much as I do right now.*

 

“Oi, fuck. Any soju left over there? Chuck me a bottle.”

 

Someone passed a glass bottle to the tattooed boy, who was raising his voice and rolling his sore wrist. The others, who had sat quietly watching what happened, gradually began talking again.

 

The tattooed boy drank straight from the bottle, then wiped his mouth roughly with the back of his hand. Chan-yang chuckled and held out his paper cup.

 

The sounds around I-hyeon seemed muffled by a layer of water. He felt as though he had been dropped into a world with nobody else in it.

 

As if to mock the thought, Chan-yang's amused voice reached his ears.

 

“Oi, Kwon I-hyeon. What are you doing? Come and sit back down.”

 

Tilting his head, Chan-yang patted the empty place between himself and the tattooed boy.

 

“We've still got something to finish talking about.”

 

A breathless laugh escaped I-hyeon's lips. He was laughing at himself. He stood motionless in the middle of the room until someone caught his wrist and pulled him down. Having been gazing blankly into space, I-hyeon offered no resistance. He simply let his body go limp.

 

Chan-yang sat him beside himself and wrapped an arm around his waist, groping him. On the other side, the tattooed boy, his face flushed red, was still venting his anger.

 

The black eyes surrounding him glittered in the gloom like those of predators. But they no longer frightened or dismayed him. He wanted only to get out of here as soon as he could and sink into a sleep as deep as death.

 

His hair fell forwards as he let his head droop. His eyelashes felt impossibly heavy. Even the faint, wet sound of his eyelids blinking, the stale air he exhaled, and the heat radiating from his own skin seemed filthy to him. He closed his eyes, sealed his lips and folded his hands.

 

At last, he tried to hold even his breath. Just as he swallowed the exhale threatening to burst from his chest, the door flew open with a crash.

 

Footsteps cut through the space beyond his ears before someone grabbed his arm and hauled him upright.

 

“You fucking bastard! What the hell do you think you're—”

 

Before the tattooed boy could finish shouting, I-hyeon had been dragged through the front door. Rain that had sounded distant until then suddenly poured around him from every direction, like surround sound in a cinema.

 

Only a moment ago, he had been sitting in the middle of a semi-basement room. Now there was no discoloured ceiling above him, but a transparent umbrella.

 

I-hyeon's blank gaze shifted from overhead to his right. When he saw the profile of the man striding ahead with a firm grip on his wrist, his held breath broke free and something surged up inside him.

 

“…Why did you come back?”

 

He had kept his voice low to hide the trembling at its end, but with nothing around them except the rain, it stood out even more.

 

Seung-hyuk must have heard, yet he did not so much as turn his head. He continued walking. I-hyeon stumbled along behind him, almost dragged by the wrist. His steps grew heavier. Breathing hard, he spoke more forcefully this time.

 

“Gu Seung-hyuk, why did you come back?”

 

Ah. His voice was definitely shaking now. He could not tell if it was because of the choking tightness in his throat, because he was panting, or because he had lost his balance and staggered. One of his trainers, which had been barely hanging on to the tips of his toes, slipped off and flew a step ahead.

 

Seung-hyuk, who had been marching towards the main road, stopped.

 

“Shut up and put your shoe on properly. I've called a taxi.”

 

The gaze he directed at the abandoned trainer was colder than ever. So was his low voice. Following his eyes to the shoe already getting soaked, I-hyeon parted lips that had been trembling for some time.

 

“…You ruined everything.”

 

The almost inaudible words were heavy with damp resentment.

 

“If you hadn't come, you wouldn't have seen me like that.”

 

“I told you to shut your mouth.”

 

“You said it was nothing to do with you. Why couldn't you keep pretending you didn't know? Why did you have to come looking for me?”

 

“Kwon I-hyeon.”

 

“Why did you have to come all this way and make me so miserable? Why?”

 

The cry, thick with tears, cut through the air. He had scraped the emotions stuck to the bottom of his heart together and forced them out like a scream. Seung-hyuk's grip tightened. I-hyeon violently tore his arm away.

 

Smack.

 

The umbrella fell from Seung-hyuk's hand. At the same instant, Seung-hyuk seized I-hyeon by the collar.

 

“Hey. What the fuck are you trying to do to me right now?”

 

Eyes churning with anger came close to his face. Seung-hyuk's voice escaped through parted lips, painfully restrained.

 

“I'm not the one who drew the line and said we'd never been friends. That was you. I'm not the one who said I was fucking useless, that I should mind my own business and stop interfering. That was *you*.”

 

“So why are *you* looking at me like that, Kwon I-hyeon?”

 

The muscles of Seung-hyuk's jaw twitched from how hard he was clenching his teeth. Raindrops ran down his drenched face.

 

White breath broke between his lips as he exhaled roughly. He looked down at I-hyeon with eyes gone black and spoke again.

 

“Why did I come here and make you miserable?”

 

“Do I look all right to you after running here because of one fucking phone call? If you've got eyes, use them.”

 

Seung-hyuk gripped his collar even harder, unable to contain the emotion rising inside him.

 

“You showed something like that to a fucking idiot who came running because he couldn't understand his place or the situation!”

 

“…And is that all you've got to say to me?”

 

The eyes facing I-hyeon were red around the edges. His voice shook so badly it sounded as though he was finally releasing a breath he had held for far too long. Seung-hyuk stared down at him for a long time, his eyes burning, then spoke again in a hollow voice.

 

“If you knew what I dropped to run out of there, or what was going through my head when I came here, you wouldn't be saying this crap.”

 

“Kwon I-hyeon, I don't know how much further I'm supposed to go to understand you.”

 

He had been staring fiercely at I-hyeon as if trying to dig into his very thoughts, but now he clenched his jaw and looked away. He let go of I-hyeon's collar as though throwing it aside, stepped back almost as if fleeing, then turned around.

 

As soon as their bodies separated, cold swept in. Raindrops struck his face without respite, cold enough to sting, and in those few moments his clothes became so soaked they seemed to weigh his whole body down.

 

I-hyeon lifted his dripping eyelashes and saw Seung-hyuk walking away with his back turned. The sob rising within him thickened until it seemed to strangle him. He opened his mouth and gasped for breath.

 

*It's unfair. I used every bit of strength I had to hide, avoid you and run away. But you're the one who came. Just like always, this time too, you came looking for me of your own accord. Every time I thrashed about in that black water, you dragged me out and saved me, only to make it impossible for me to love you, choking off my breath.*

 

*So why are you putting all the blame on me? You're the one who pushed me down into a pit I couldn't climb out of.*

 

*And I'm already eaten away in so many places that even a fall from that height shatters me.*

 

“…When did I ever ask you to understand me?”

 

Countless circles formed across the puddles. The reflected world kept wavering, though I-hyeon could not tell whether it was because the water was moving or because his eyes were growing hot. He closed them and whispered helplessly.

 

“I never asked that of you.”

 

“I told you. You couldn't understand me even if you died and came back to life.”

 

Seung-hyuk's footsteps stopped, but I-hyeon could not lift his head. It felt as though he were standing at the edge of a cliff, peering unsteadily down. As his senses grew distant, something hot rolled down his cheek. He was glad it was raining.

 

“Wow, I-hyeon. You really…”

 

“You've got a talent for making people stop caring about you.”

 

The voice, cold as ice, mingled with the rain. Seung-hyuk let out a disgusted laugh, as if he had truly had enough. Without turning around, he started walking again.

 

“You can throw the umbrella away.”

 

I-hyeon stood behind him and let the rain soak every inch of his body. It felt as though the last thing he had been struggling to hold on to had finally snapped.

 

The lowest of the low places, the very bottom of a muddy pit where he had thought things could sink no further. The moment when, bound hand and foot, he was thrown into black water whose depths could not be measured.

 

*Ah. So when the world collapses, it sounds like rain.*

 

I-hyeon quietly let out something that hovered between laughter and crying.

 

──── 📘📘 ───

 

“Cough, cough.”

 

He opened his eyes with a dry cough. The room was far too bright for early morning. The first things he saw were the wooden floorboards, laid at a crooked angle to the wheels of his desk chair.

 

*Why am I here?*

 

Only after blinking a few more times did I-hyeon realise he had been lying on the floor. He slowly sat up.

 

Another cough burst from him. When he noticed how his clothes clung to his body with every movement, still damp from the night before, he let out a low sigh.

 

*Ah, I remember. I came back yesterday without the strength to wash or get changed, so I thought I'd lie down just for a moment. I must have fallen asleep like this.*

 

The heating was on, and the room was not cold, yet he shivered. When he looked at the clock, lunchtime had already passed.

 

He had missed school and remained like this until the middle of the day. Perhaps *collapsed* would be more accurate than *fell asleep*. His parents, despite living under the same roof, apparently had no interest in whether their son had gone to school.

 

If he vanished entirely, they might not notice until Sunday. It did not even make him feel particularly hurt any more. His situation just seemed ridiculous.

 

I-hyeon let out a bitter, derisive laugh and unsteadily got to his feet. His whole body hurt as though he had been beaten, and the breath escaping between his lips was so hot he could scarcely believe it was his own.

 

If he went to school in this state, he would only spend the day with his head on his desk. So I-hyeon washed carelessly with cold water, then crawled under his duvet without even drying his hair. His fever made his thoughts hazy, and his body felt as though heavy weights had been attached to it. Sleep came at once.

 

He thought he had barely closed his eyes and fallen into darkness when he heard someone calling his name from somewhere. Following the voice, he reached a place where a group of family members stood in a circle beneath a distant spotlight.

 

His father, mother and older sister were talking with bright, happy faces. There seemed to be no place for him among them. He could only stare from a distance, unable to come any closer. Then his father looked up and turned towards him.

 

The kindly smiling face that had been speaking so warmly froze into something terrifying the moment it saw I-hyeon. His father shouted in a furious voice.

 

“You piece of filth! What makes you think you can crawl in here, eh? If I'd known something like you would be born into our family, I'd have had you aborted long ago. Do you hear me?”

 

Before I-hyeon could say anything, his father charged towards him, eyes blazing. In one hand he held a golf club; in the other, the transparent glass ornament he had thrown at I-hyeon a few days earlier.

 

Afraid the hard, sharp ornament would fly towards him again, I-hyeon turned and ran. He had no time to think where he was going or where he could possibly go. He simply fled in whichever direction would take him further away.

 

“Hah… hah…”

 

Then several people suddenly appeared from nowhere and blocked his way. Startled, I-hyeon stumbled backwards and fell onto his backside. They closed in, forming a circle around him.

 

Faces he knew well — people from church, school friends — floated in the darkness. They frowned as they looked down at him, as though he were something revolting.

 

“I can't believe a vile, filthy homosexual has been coming to church every Sunday, pretending to be normal. I-hyeon, how are you going to answer for that sin?”

 

“Fuck, Kwon I-hyeon. You try talking to us from tomorrow and see what happens. If I'd known you were gay, I wouldn't have spoken a single word to you in the first place. Fucking disgusting…”

 

Sharp accusations flew at him from every direction. The people did not stop there. They began picking up angular stones from the ground and aiming them at I-hyeon.

 

His hands shook as he pressed them against the floor and tried to stand, but his legs would not support him.

 

He could only shuffle backwards on his backside. Then someone slipped both hands beneath his arms and hauled him upright in one movement. I-hyeon bit his bloodless lips and looked up at the person dragging him away.

 

“…Hh…”

 

The moment he saw the familiar profile, the tears he had been holding back rose in his throat. Relief and grief swept over him together like a wave. His lips trembled as he struggled to speak.

 

“Gu Seung-hyuk, I didn't do it on purpose… It's not that I wanted any of this. If I could, I'd have hidden it for ever and stayed beside you, but Chan-yang hyung, Lee Chan-yang…”

 

He was panting, looking only at Seung-hyuk's profile as he spoke. At some point, Seung-hyuk stopped walking and turned. He looked down at I-hyeon, whose fingers were clinging desperately to his arm.

 

His gaze was colder and crueller than his father's, than those of the people from church or school.

 

I-hyeon flinched beneath its unmistakable hostility. Seung-hyuk pulled him by the arm and pushed him forwards from behind. Only then did I-hyeon slowly turn his gaze towards what lay in front of him. Seung-hyuk's voice rang out at his back.

 

“I-hyeon, you seem to have misunderstood something. Faggots like you are a problem just by existing.”

 

What hung before him was a thick rope, suspended in mid-air, with a round noose tied at its end. He could not see where it began. It looked stronger than anything in the world.

 

I-hyeon held his breath and stepped back without meaning to, but Seung-hyuk's solid body blocked his retreat. Seung-hyuk took hold of his violently trembling body to keep him still, then leant his head beside I-hyeon's face. A low whisper slid into his ear.

 

“If you were born wrong, then instead of struggling pathetically, just…”

 

“Die, I-hyeon.”

 

When I-hyeon looked around, people had filled the space. They stared at him with rigid, expressionless faces and came closer, tightening around him like a strangling cord. The dozens of black eyes floating in the air filled him with unbearable terror. Trying to move away from them, he found himself standing in the very centre.

 

Before he could even flinch at the rough touch on the back of his neck, the rope coiled around his throat like a snake. At the same moment, everything beneath his feet disappeared into blackness except the tiny patch on which he stood. The floor had vanished, but the people's malicious eyes remained, floating and watching him.

 

One wrong movement would send him falling. He dug his nails into the rope and tried to pull it loose, but it was useless. White and black eyeballs rolled around him, and even the last little patch of floor began to be swallowed by the dark.

 

A cry like an animal's escaped his lips. His body shook as violently as an aspen leaf. He pressed his feet together, rose onto his toes and struggled. Eyes danced around him. Finally, when everything beneath his feet had turned to darkness, he felt his body drop sharply. The rope tightened around his throat.

 

I-hyeon's eyes flew open.

 

“Hah… Haaah… hah…”

 

Unlike earlier, when it had been daytime, the room was dark. Unable at once to separate his dream from reality, I-hyeon sat up in bed and gasped for breath.

 

His heart hammered wildly, and his fear and confusion made it impossible to think. He was convinced that someone might throw open the door and come charging in at any moment. As though pursued, he fled the room and rushed out of the front door without even putting on his coat properly.

 

In the garden, the clear, distinct smell of air after rain brushed across his skin. He tried taking deep breaths, like someone who had barely made it back to the surface after being submerged, but no air seemed to reach his lungs.

 

He still felt as though he were suffocating, and the terror of being pursued would not go away. Without composing himself or taking anything with him, he opened the gate and went out.

 

He staggered out of the alley and into the bustling city. Honking cars and glaring lights assaulted his senses from every direction.

 

His whole body was drenched in cold sweat, and because he was so lightly dressed, his jaw trembled with each step. A passer-by glanced at him strangely and bumped against his shoulder.

 

“S-sorry…”

 

The apology came automatically, but the man merely scowled, muttered a curse and carried on. Even that small, everyday hostility frightened I-hyeon so badly that he hurried towards somewhere with no people.

 

Unaware that the mismatched slippers he had rushed out wearing kept catching on his toes, I-hyeon walked towards the emptier streets. He could feel neither the cold nor the pain. He kept moving, steeped in fever and terror.

 

After a long time, he found himself far beyond the busy shopping district. Faded notices reading *TO LET* fluttered against the black windows of commercial buildings, and long lorries and buses stood parked along the kerb.

 

He walked with his eyes fixed on the scattered patches of yellow light from the streetlamps. Then his phone began to vibrate loudly in his pocket, making him stop.

 

[Lee Chan-yang]

 

Why did those three hellish syllables look especially cold tonight?

 

It felt as though everything in the world was pushing against his back, telling him it was time to stop.

 

That it was finally time to attempt the thing he had only ever thought about.

 

Beyond the buzzing phone, he saw a deserted construction site where work seemed to have stopped long ago. The unfinished building, abandoned without even the outer cladding installed, reminded him of the dream he had just had.

 

*Ah. Was this the only choice I had left after all?*

 

“Hey. If you think you can disappear all day and skip school without me finding you… You're wrong, I-hyeon.”

 

“… ”

 

“Do you really think you can get out of my hands that easily?”

 

Chan-yang's voice came through the connected call, thick with irritation and anger. His response was so exactly what I-hyeon had expected that a feeble, breathless laugh escaped his lips.

 

I-hyeon started walking again.

 

He passed a banner bearing the words *PAY THE CONSTRUCTION COSTS* in rough, blood-red lettering. Inside, he could make out the crude shape of concrete stairs ahead. He trudged towards them with a faint, weary smile.

 

“No.”

 

“I don't think I can.”

 

He climbed higher and higher, with no idea how many floors the structure had. Fragments of hardened cement crumbled underfoot.

 

The rough exposed structure echoed his footsteps back at him, yet he had never felt more acutely alone.

 

“So let me ask you something. Hyung, where do you think I am right now?”

 

His low, flat voice scarcely changed. Reaching a place where the stairs ended, I-hyeon stopped and looked around. Unlike the dark interior, pale moonlight reached the edge of the floor. He turned towards it.

 

“How the hell am I supposed to know? Stop talking rubbish and get to the internet café by the crossroads…”

 

“I'm at that big construction site on the road up to the hill.”

 

“What?”

 

“It's really windy up here. And it's much higher than I thought.”

 

The wind tangled his hair, much too sharp to be called a gentle spring breeze. All the buildings he could see in the distance were dark, like the painted backdrop behind a theatre stage. I-hyeon walked slowly towards the edge and parted his lips.

 

“But what if, hyung…”

 

His whisper was quieter than his footsteps echoing through the empty space. Somewhere far away through the phone, Chan-yang shouted for the people around him to be quiet. I-hyeon continued evenly before Chan-yang could reply.

 

“What if I just jumped off here?”

 

“… ”

 

“Would I finally be free of you then?”

 

It sounded more like a sigh than a question. Not quite an interrogative sentence or a statement, just a murmur spoken to himself. Yet those brief words brought a suffocating silence from the other end of the phone. After a moment, an incredulous laugh came through.

 

“Oi, Kwon I-hyeon. What are you doing?”

 

“Are you threatening me by saying you're going to kill yourself?”

 

Chan-yang dismissed it as absurd nonsense and sounded offended, but I-hyeon did not answer. Then Chan-yang seemed to notice the wind cutting through I-hyeon's breathing. Suddenly his voice dropped into something vicious.

 

“Have you actually gone fucking mad?”

 

Something crashed at the other end of the call. Chan-yang spoke again, breathing hard.

 

“Where did you say? The construction site on the road to the hill? Stay right where you are, you bastard. I'll make sure you never talk this kind of shit again.”

 

The call ended. The changed screen glowed alone in the dark. Everything around I-hyeon was so quiet that the commotion from the phone seemed to linger in his ears.

 

He put it in his pocket and walked slowly to the end of the floor. There he stopped, a single step from empty air.

 

Between the pillars, where no railings had been installed, yellow *KEEP OUT* tape fluttered weakly. One misplaced step could send him plunging down, yet he did not feel afraid.

 

Perhaps because of his fever, a film seemed to lie over his thoughts. Everything was numb. He felt as though he were simply walking through a continuation of the dream he had had earlier.

 

With hardly any strength left in his body, he lowered his head and looked down with the detached expression of someone watching another person's life. The materials piled far below looked small as toys.

 

He had never seriously considered whether a person's future was fixed in advance. But perhaps it had always been his fate to end up here. Bits of brick scattered about, filthy cement sacks, broken wooden boards — what place could suit someone as shattered as him better?

 

He stood in the fierce wind, unable even to brush the blowing hair from his face, staring down.

 

He remained like that for so long he might have lost his mind. His feverish breath felt unbearably hot. He was still standing with his head lowered when, as if entranced, he began to move one foot forwards.

 

Footsteps sounded from behind, someone running urgently up the stairs. I-hyeon stopped and turned his head.

 

The moonlight was faint, but bright enough to make out a face. A few paces away stood Chan-yang, his expression harder than I-hyeon had ever seen it. He was braced on both knees, gasping for breath.

 

Chan-yang straightened and took a step towards him, glaring fiercely as he caught his breath. At once I-hyeon stepped half a pace backwards and spoke.

 

It was the last struggle of someone who had already let everything go.

 

“…Don't move.”

 

“What?”

 

“Hyung, if you come even one step closer, I'll fall straight off.”

 

There was no strength in his voice, yet it was the most aggressive threat he had ever made. Chan-yang stopped moving. His expression, however, was fiercer than ever as he stared at I-hyeon standing perilously at the edge of the building, with no safety barrier at all. He ground his teeth.

 

“You've finally lost your fucking mind.”

 

Unlike usual, his voice sounded as if he were struggling to keep it under control. I-hyeon answered calmly.

 

“Did you honestly think I'd be all right for ever?”

 

They were simple words, yet Chan-yang's face froze. Anger, shock, agitation and displeasure combined in its twisted expression.

 

The sight made a thin laugh escape I-hyeon's lips. He raised his mouth into a strange smile.

 

“It's funny, seeing you make a face like that.”

 

“As though you never expected it to come to this.”

 

They stared at each other in the desolate place. Chan-yang's eyes burned with emotions he did not even seem aware of, while I-hyeon's were perfectly calm and empty. If there was anything to be found in them, it was exhaustion. He gazed at Chan-yang with dark, sunken eyes and spoke.

 

“Was the fact that I like men really so disgusting to you?”

 

“Or did you hate the idea of me living perfectly well on my own that much?”

 

His voice was as dry and cold as his gaze. After another pause, he went on.

 

“Or…”

 

He opened his mouth, then gave a faint, incredulous laugh at the very thought of saying it aloud.

 

“Did you actually like me?”

 

“…What?”

 

At those words, Chan-yang's face froze into an indescribable expression. But I-hyeon's eyes were closed, so he did not see the way Chan-yang's gaze wavered.

 

In the darkness behind his eyelids, he listened to a high ringing that sounded faintly from somewhere, like tinnitus. Then he moved his lips again.

 

“It wasn't any of those things. You just thought it was fun to play with me.”

 

“So please. Leave me alone now.”

 

“Let's stop this. Both of us.”

 

I-hyeon slowly opened his eyes. Instead of facing Chan-yang again, he turned his head and looked down at the ground far below. He murmured to himself in an even voice.

 

“I never realised how little I was attached to being alive.”

 

“It was so hard to get through each day pretending I was fine. Why is giving up so easy?”

 

His faint, self-mocking laugh mingled with his pale breath and dispersed into the air. He turned to look forwards and whispered.

 

“What do you think I should do?”

 

“Should I die?”

 

His lowered gaze slowly rose until it met Chan-yang's. His lips parted once more.

 

“Should I just die right here?”

 

“…Kwon I-hyeon.”

 

Chan-yang's face twisted savagely. He stared at I-hyeon with eyes fierce enough to kill, clenched his teeth and made a fist. I-hyeon looked straight back at him and spoke quietly.

 

“Hyung, you decide.”

 

“Whether we stop here, or take this all the way to the end.”

 

Voices seemed to drift from somewhere on the wind passing between them. Above them rose I-hyeon's calm voice, asking for an answer.

 

Several minutes passed — a short time, or perhaps a terribly long one. Chan-yang chose silence.

 

He merely ground his teeth and glared at I-hyeon, looking unable to contain his anger.

 

I-hyeon gave him a sorrowful smile.

 

“…Hyung. You really are cruel to me, right to the end.”

 

He had just taken his eyes off Chan-yang and was about to turn away when the distant murmur of voices grew louder. Footsteps, several sets of them, were approaching up the stairs.

 

It had never occurred to I-hyeon that anyone else might come here. He stiffened and looked towards the stairwell. Chan-yang did not miss the moment. He lunged, caught I-hyeon's wrist and dragged him back.

 

“What are you—?”

 

“Shut up!”

 

Chan-yang hurried behind a stack of materials piled like a wall beside them. He clamped a hand over I-hyeon's mouth and watched the stairs with anxious eyes.

 

His grip was so hard that I-hyeon's shoulder and jaw hurt. He made a muffled sound and twisted, but Chan-yang only held him more tightly.

 

“Mmph… mmph…”

 

“Ah, fucking hell. Look, Mr Seong-gu, I know your legs aren't working properly, but how about making a bit of an effort and walking on your own two feet, eh?”

 

The irritated complaint echoed through the bleak building. The voice was so much closer than either boy had expected that they both froze.

 

Chan-yang quickly recovered his senses and pulled I-hyeon further into the dark corner, away from the light. At almost the same moment, a group of four or five heavily built adult men appeared at the top of the stairs.

 

“Ahh, I'm fucking exhausted… Hey, this is the last one today, so don't stand around like idiots. Let's get it over with in one go, all right?”

 

One of the two men at the front rolled his neck as though stretching stiff muscles and patted his companion's shoulder. Several black silhouettes passed the stack of materials behind which Chan-yang and I-hyeon were hiding.

 

The last pair appeared a little way behind the others, walking strangely close together. Looking carefully, I-hyeon realised that one seemed to be supporting the other.

 

But there was something unsettling about the leg dragging along the ground and the limp arm swinging uselessly with every movement.

 

As though confirming his suspicions, the men stopped in the middle of the building and dropped a body on the floor. A sickeningly dull thud reached I-hyeon and Chan-yang.

 

“Ah, hyung, this is why I said we should go somewhere with a lift. I thought I was going to fucking die carrying him. Oi, Kim Yeong-ho, you carry him later, you bastard.”

 

The man who had thrown the limp body aside like rubbish ran a hand irritably through his hair and complained. With Chan-yang's hand still clamped over his mouth, I-hyeon peered through a narrow gap between the materials, his eyes trembling with unease.

 

Every ominous sensation in his body seemed to be telling him not to look or listen any further. Yet his gaze, no longer under his control, was drawn downwards.

 

When he finally saw the man lying on the ground, I-hyeon drew in a sharp breath without meaning to.

 

“What was that, hyung? Thought I heard something weird just now. Want me to go and check around?”

 

Chan-yang's hand pressed harder over his mouth. I-hyeon clenched his fists and stared at the sight before him.

 

The man sprawled on the floor had a face so swollen it looked as though every part had been split open. His clothes were a mess of bloodstains. Only the faint rise and fall of his chest proved he was still alive.

 

One of the men nudged him carelessly near the waist with his foot, then put a cigarette between his lips and replied indistinctly around it.

 

“Ah, forget it. Who the hell comes to a place like this at this hour? Let's just finish up, then stop by Lara's place and have ourselves some fun.”

 

They had gathered in one of the few slightly brighter areas of the dark building. Apart from a few men with their backs turned, I-hyeon could see their faces. The clearest of them had a long scar beside one eye, smoke drifting from his mouth.

 

I-hyeon's face turned deathly pale when he recognised the frightening man who had taken Seung-hyuk away from the fast-food restaurant. Fragments of things he had overheard and tried to ignore shot through his mind like arrows.

 

*They found a body at that abandoned construction site. Heard the victim wasn't an ordinary civilian.*

 

*Apparently people have been dying inside that organisation lately, something to do with initiation ceremonies.*

 

*From what I heard, he seems to be mixed up in it somehow.*

 

Construction site. Corpse. Gangsters. And…

 

*Gu Seung-hyuk.*

 

The man on the floor coughed and spat out what looked like blood. He struggled to lift himself, then grabbed the trouser leg of someone standing with his back towards I-hyeon and hung from it, pleading.

 

“P-please… spare me.”

 

“… ”

 

“Please spare me, just this once…”

 

I-hyeon's gaze was not on the man, who was gasping as though he might die at any moment. It was on the person whose trousers he clutched.

 

The figure standing motionless in the shadows looked inexplicably familiar, filling I-hyeon with unbearable dread.

 

He could feel his pulse everywhere: behind his ears, along his neck, in his fingertips. A sour taste rose onto his tongue, as though he were about to be sick. He held his breath, afraid his heart might actually burst from its pounding. At that moment, the scarred man exhaled cigarette smoke, nodded and spoke.

 

“Oi, Seong-gu. Where's the knife? Put it straight into the young master's hand.”

 

At his flat instruction, someone standing nearby took an object wrapped in white cloth from inside his jacket. As he unfolded the cloth, a blade flashed in the darkness.

 

I-hyeon's legs seemed to give way. Without meaning to, he seized Chan-yang's wrist. Chan-yang was apparently just as startled; his body had gone rigid behind him.

 

The man held the knife out to the figure in the darkness, who took one step forwards. A sharp sashimi knife, looking capable of cutting at the slightest touch, was placed in a long-fingered hand.

 

After adjusting the grip so the blade pointed downwards, the man nodded and stepped back. The frightening scarred man, still smoking, gestured to the space beside him.

 

“Come over here. You'll have more room to swing the knife from this side.”

 

The man holding the knife clenched his free hand into a fist and slowly moved forwards. His body, wrapped in things blacker than shadows, entered the ominously blue-white moonlight.

 

The man's profile gradually came into view from where I-hyeon and Chan-yang stood. Looking at that face, set harder than ever before, I-hyeon let out a despairing little sound.

 

“Hh…!”

 

The face looking down at the deadly blade overlapped with the one he had seen in the rain the day before. The only difference was the temperature of the light falling across it.

 

Seung-hyuk stood holding a knife. Before him knelt a man who was already half a corpse. The others watched as though they were merely spectators.

 

What would happen next was painfully easy to imagine.

 

*Don't. No. Please don't…*

 

I-hyeon's eyes were wide with terror. He writhed as though about to rush out, but Chan-yang held him even more tightly.

 

*Fuck, what is this?* Chan-yang muttered. His pulse, too, was racing with something that might have been fear or excitement. He pressed harder over I-hyeon's mouth as I-hyeon shook his head almost convulsively.

 

“P-please spare me. Just this once. I swear I'll never do anything like it again. I'll, hh, I'll live quietly, like I'm dead, I swear… ngh…”

 

Two large men seized the pleading man's arms and hauled him upright. Kneeling, with his arms stretched out as though being dragged towards a crucifixion, he faced Seung-hyuk. Seung-hyuk merely looked down at him with a bloodless face.

 

The scarred man watching them frowned and flicked his cigarette. Clicking his tongue as though calling a dog, he nodded at Seung-hyuk.

 

“Oi, Seung-hyuk. I'm hungry. Hurry up and get it over with.”

 

“If you can't do it again this time, it's back to the basement when we get home.”

 

“You should think about the Chairman, who took in a thing like you and called you his son, you little shit.”

 

At his words, Seung-hyuk bit his lip. One foot, which had remained still, moved forwards. His grip tightened around the knife.

 

*No. No.*

 

I-hyeon's vision blurred. Before he knew it, tears were running down his cheeks. He struggled to knock Chan-yang's hand away, but the arms and legs pinning him only tightened.

 

Then Chan-yang swore softly beside his ear. A small electronic chime followed. Unless he had imagined it, it was the sound of a video recording starting.

 

I-hyeon stopped breathing for an instant. His eyes widened as he turned his head.

 

At the same moment, a pained groan came from the man in front of them.

 

Chan-yang's eyes were wide. He had bitten down hard on his lip to prevent any sound escaping, and was filming what happened through the gap between the stacked materials.

 

I-hyeon hurriedly looked back along the direction of his gaze. A blade, buried deep in the upper part of the man's stomach, was being drawn out, slick with blood.

 

The filthy shirt of the man held by both arms rapidly turned red as his body convulsed. With a chilling metallic clatter, the sashimi knife fell to the floor.

 

“Mmph… mmph…”

 

A moment later, the stabbed man's head dropped forwards. His body slumped, his face striking the ground. Not even a fingertip moved.

 

I-hyeon barely managed to lift his devastated gaze to Seung-hyuk. With his head lowered so that his face was hidden, Seung-hyuk stood motionless, staring at his own hands.

 

The men beside him came over and patted him on the shoulders. They seemed to be saying something among themselves, but none of it reached I-hyeon's ears.

 

Then the scarred man, who had been watching from a few paces away, tossed his cigarette aside and turned. Pointing his chin towards the body on the ground, he said carelessly, “Oi, Sang-hyeon. Find out what time the ready-mix concrete's coming to the Namseo-dong site. Get rid of him to fit in with that.”

 

A black puddle began forming around the body that had been alive only moments before. Men arrived with a large sheet of thick plastic and, frowning, wrapped the corpse in it roughly.

 

“Fuck, fuck…” Chan-yang kept muttering right beside I-hyeon's ear. I-hyeon was too busy staring at Seung-hyuk, panting with horror and despair, to think of stopping him from recording.

 

Meanwhile, the men scattered something over the bloodied floor and covered it with dirt, clearing away the evidence.

 

A chime announced that the recording had ended. One of the men seemed to look in their direction, but he soon turned back to the work of tidying up.

 

A large man hoisted the heavy, plastic-wrapped body onto his shoulder and began descending the stairs. Someone shouted, “Oi, come on. We've got to go and report back,” and seized Seung-hyuk by the shoulder, dragging him away when he was still standing in a daze.

 

Silence returned to the once-bustling space. Even after everyone had gone, a long time passed before Chan-yang finally released his grip.

 

The moment I-hyeon's mouth was uncovered and his limbs were free, he bent forwards, bracing his hands on his knees.

 

Tears fell heavily as he struggled to breathe.

 

He wished what he had seen had been a dream. A delusion made up inside his own mind, or an illusion caused by his fever.

 

But the tears running down his cheeks were undeniably hot, and Chan-yang's overexcited voice was far too clear.

 

“Fuuuck… Holy shit, this is insane. Hahahaha.”

 

Chan-yang paced in circles, staring at his phone like someone who had lost his mind. Watching him, I-hyeon finally felt the full blow of what had happened, as though he had been struck across the head.

 

This was no time to be lost in useless thoughts. That phone would contain footage of Seung-hyuk stabbing someone.

 

Breathing hard, I-hyeon raised his head and hurried towards Chan-yang, grabbing both his wrists. He shook his head, his face utterly drained of blood, struggling to steady his devastated voice.

 

“Your camera, the camera didn't get all of that, did it…? Delete it, hyung. Delete the video. Please?”

 

“Fuck, he's actually insane. Gu Seung-hyuk, that fucking bastard… Could I use this to bring that lunatic down? Fuck. Fuck! Holy fucking shit!”

 

Chan-yang easily shook off I-hyeon, who was clinging to him with a face gone whiter than pale.

 

He seemed not even to hear I-hyeon's pleading voice. He laughed with wild excitement, gripping his phone, then suddenly scowled.

 

“But fuck, what if I piss them off and those people come after me? Fuck, one wrong move and I could be screwed too. How the hell am I supposed to use this, eh? Eh?”

 

He muttered to himself, staring into space, his voice high with agitation, and pressed his fist against his mouth. Moving from excitement to fear and back again, Chan-yang was clearly not in his right mind either.

 

The thought that he might storm out of here and go straight to the police seized I-hyeon. Without thinking, he wrapped both arms tightly around Chan-yang's waist from behind. He bowed his head, his face twisted, and murmured as though begging.

 

“Don't. Please, hyung. Don't do that.”

 

He did not know why he was going this far himself, but his body moved before his thoughts could catch up. All he could think about was stopping Chan-yang, no matter what. His legs gave way, and I-hyeon sank to his knees on the dry concrete, clutching at Chan-yang's shins.

 

“You're not going to do anything with that, are you? Delete it. Hurry up. Delete it in front of me. Please.”

 

Tears blurred everything. I-hyeon's ruined, wet face was nothing like the cold expression he had worn when he looked over the edge of the building earlier.

 

Even when threatening to take his own life, he had been distant and dry. Yet now a single video recording of someone else's crime had reduced him to this. And the fact that the person in that recording was Gu Seung-hyuk, of all people, touched something volatile inside Chan-yang.

 

His eyes, filled with equal parts fear and mania, had been fixed on the phone. Now they finally settled on I-hyeon.

 

“Hahaha. What the fuck… Were you making that huge fuss about living and dying because of Gu Seung-hyuk?”

 

“All that fucking nonsense, threatening me when we'd been having fun together all this time — that was all because of that bastard?”

 

Chan-yang frowned and laughed incredulously as he pulled his leg free.

 

“You want me to stop? Why would I? The moment I let you go, you'll run to Gu Seung-hyuk and start throwing yourself at him the way you did with me. Who exactly benefits if I stop?”

 

Turning towards him, Chan-yang looked down, then bent his knees and crouched. He seized I-hyeon by the collar, hauled his lowered head up and met his eyes.

 

“Hey. What I find fucking hilarious is that you risked your life to threaten me, and all you wanted was for me to leave you alone.”

 

“… ”

 

“Kwon I-hyeon, get a grip. Do you seriously think anyone but me would put up with something like you?”

 

His sharpened, glittering stare travelled across I-hyeon's face, which was still with its eyes closed, gasping for breath. Chan-yang looked at his eyelashes stuck together with moisture, the skin around his eyes already raw, the reddened tip of his nose. He clenched his teeth.

 

“If I'd got rid of that idiot Gu Seung-hyuk earlier, you wouldn't even have dared say this kind of shit. Isn't that right?”

 

Chan-yang released I-hyeon's collar with a shove. He stood up, lifting his chin and keeping his eyes lowered.

 

“What was that? Did you ask whether I like you?”

 

“*Me?* Like *you*?”

 

He gave a disbelieving laugh, as though the question was absurd even on second thought. Yet Chan-yang's face, flushed with agitation, was more rigid than ever. He clenched his jaw as though holding something back, then spoke in a low voice, his eyes flashing.

 

“Listen. You know that if I take this video to the police station, that bastard's finished, right?”

 

At those words, I-hyeon's eyelids slowly opened. The gaze with which he looked up at Chan-yang was beyond pitiful, almost desperate. Chan-yang realised that the person he could control even more easily by using the footage as a leash was right in front of him. He gave a cold, derisive smile.

 

“Come to the hideout on the weekend, in the evening. I'll keep hold of this until then.”

 

After glaring at I-hyeon's pallid face with murderous eyes, Chan-yang looked away and turned towards the stairs. He walked a few steps, brushing dust from his clothes, then stopped as if something had only just occurred to him.

 

“Ah, and I-hyeon.”

 

“You'd better come prepared to take responsibility for pissing me off like this.”

 

Then he muttered, loudly enough for I-hyeon to hear, “If you hadn't called me out here and put on this whole fucking show, I never would've got that recording in the first place. When you think about it, Gu Seung-hyuk's pretty unlucky too. Getting involved with someone like you.”

 

“Oh, and just in case you're thinking of not showing up and disappearing…”

 

Rolling the phone in his hand, Chan-yang abruptly turned back and met I-hyeon's eyes. There was not the slightest humour in his expression. He twisted only his mouth and spoke firmly, as though trying to burn the words into him.

 

“If Gu Seung-hyuk's life gets fucked up, that's all your fault.”

 

“Just thought you should know.”

 

His tone was absurdly light for what those words meant. Leaving I-hyeon staring helplessly into the air, Chan-yang turned away again.

 

“See you at the weekend.”

 

His flat voice echoed through the desolate building. I-hyeon closed his eyes in despair as Chan-yang's footsteps faded.

 

He remained sitting on the cold concrete floor, his head buried between his knees, before slowly lifting it. He did not know how much time had passed. But it was time to admit that staying here would not change anything.

 

More precisely, he should not be sitting around deciding whether or not to admit it. He should get out of there as quickly as possible.

 

If he heard another set of footsteps nearby, they would not belong to someone coming to explain that the whole thing had been staged with hidden cameras. They would belong to someone returning to clean up after a murder.

 

But perhaps because of the fever consuming him and the nausea churning inside him, nothing seemed quite real. His ability to take in what had happened was dulled.

 

He spent a long time staring blankly at the place where Seung-hyuk had stood and at the floor where the dark-red puddle had formed. At last he struggled to his feet.

 

The construction site, where only the occasional insect chirped, was as silent as though no one had ever stormed through it. He crossed the dirt covered in overlapping footprints and reached the road, feeling as though he had entered a different world.

 

He stumbled along with his head lowered, avoiding the overly bright shop signs. Passers-by glanced at him as though he were drunk. Somehow, clinging to consciousness that threatened to fade away at any moment, I-hyeon walked towards home.

 

When he finally reached the house and opened the front door, the only thing greeting him was the dark ground-floor living room, not a single light switched on.

 

He took off his shoes beneath the sensor light and entered his room. His legs immediately gave way. I-hyeon collapsed onto the floor, closed his eyes and rested his head against the bedroom door.

 

But darkness only brought a scene he had never actually seen, playing before his eyes like a video. Seung-hyuk was holding the knife upside down, stabbing the limp man's body again and again. The bright-red blood flowing from him did not merely pool on the floor; it began rising.

 

Moments earlier, the thick liquid had barely covered I-hyeon's ankles. Before long it reached his waist, then his chest. It was sticky and heavy, tightening around his entire body. He tilted his head back as far as he could and gasped for breath, but the rippling surface was already just below his lips.

 

Panting so hard his chest heaved, I-hyeon opened his mouth to cry for help. Liquid immediately poured between his lips and blocked his throat. He thrashed his arms and legs in terror, but could not escape.

 

He managed to turn his eyes and saw Seung-hyuk looking down at him. Even when I-hyeon tried to scream through his blocked throat, Seung-hyuk turned as though he could not hear and walked towards the dark.

 

I-hyeon was suffocating, and there was no way out. He clutched his throat and struggled with all his strength. Then his gaze moved past Seung-hyuk towards the person lying on the floor, apparently dead. The moment I-hyeon saw the person's face, his body convulsed and his eyes flew open.

 

“…Hah, hah…”

 

Before he could adjust to the sudden change in surroundings, his own reflection appeared in the full-length mirror directly in front of him.

 

The person sitting there with a face drained of blood had the same face as the person Seung-hyuk's knife had stabbed moments earlier. Chilled to the bone, I-hyeon shuddered and got to his feet.

 

He could not tell whether he had fainted briefly or fallen asleep. He merely stood wheezing and trying to steady his breath. When he finally looked through the window, he noticed a familiar silhouette standing beneath a streetlamp on the road beyond the gate.

 

The figure was larger than most men, and even in the pitch-dark night, he had a cap pulled down low. There was something familiar about him. Like a person under a spell, I-hyeon sprang up and ran out of the house.

 

He hurried through the front door and garden, then threw the iron gate open with a crash. But there was not a single soul on the road, not even an ant.

 

His eyes wavered as he looked from side to side, but there was no trace of anyone.

 

*Was I seeing things because of the fever?*

 

The strength abruptly drained from his body. He was about to turn away in disappointment when his gaze fell beneath the streetlamp. In one patch of ground illuminated by yellow light, several white cigarette ends lay scattered.

 

When he noticed that the red ember was still burning on one of them, I-hyeon clenched both trembling fists.

 

His memories of the past few days were unclear. He had called a switched-off phone and gone to Seung-hyuk's classroom several times, yet had not managed to find him anywhere.

 

Everything the teachers and his classmates said washed past his ears. At mealtimes, he could barely tell whether he was putting rice or soup into his mouth. Time seemed to move more slowly than ever.

 

What frightened I-hyeon most was the possibility that Chan-yang would take the recording to the police. Whenever he had a moment, he searched the internet for news of a body being found, for reports of a murder and for information about how juvenile offenders were punished for killing someone.

 

After doing that for several days, his nerves were stretched almost to breaking point. Exhausted by fear, he had been driven into a corner until he began to think that giving Chan-yang his body a few times in exchange for the video might even be a good deal.

 

[Come to the hideout by eight tonight.]

 

Perhaps that was why, when the message from Chan-yang arrived, I-hyeon felt more exhausted than ever. He could hardly bear any more time worrying that Chan-yang might change his mind. He almost felt relieved that the moment had finally come.

 

He bit hard into his dry, pale lips, slowly changed his clothes and left through the front door. The black sky, scattered with stars, looked so much like the one on that night that it gave him an unbearable sense of déjà vu.

 

After crossing several pedestrian crossings and junctions, he turned into a narrow alley. The familiar building appeared in the distance. His heartbeat, sluggish until then, gradually began to race.

 

The reasonable suspicion that Chan-yang would never hand over the recording so easily began to spread through him like mould. So did the thought of what might happen if he simply gave up everything and ran while there was still time.

 

He stood with a pallid face, staring at the old brick house.

 

Bzz. Bzz. Bzz.

 

The unending vibration snatched his attention. When he took out his phone, Seung-hyuk's name was glowing on the screen.

 

I-hyeon's eyes widened. Afraid the call would end before he could answer, he hurriedly pressed the button and raised the phone to his ear.

 

“… ”

 

Only faint breathing came from the other end. I-hyeon had no idea what to say. After moving his lips silently for a long time, he finally spoke first.

 

“Gu Seung-hyuk, are you…”

 

“… ”

 

“Are you all right?”

 

He deliberately kept his voice low, afraid the tremor would betray him. Seung-hyuk made a faint, breathless sound. After a moment of silence, a subdued voice answered.

 

“Kwon I-hyeon. I'm near the funeral hall at the university hospital.”

 

“Could you come to me right now?”

 

The last time Seung-hyuk had seen him, as far as I-hyeon knew, he had walked away looking as though he never wanted to see him again. I-hyeon could still clearly remember the hurt in his eyes through the falling rain. That made this calm-sounding request feel even stranger.

 

He had assumed Seung-hyuk would never seek him out again.

 

“I was wrong.”

 

But as I-hyeon bit his lower lip, unable to find an answer, Seung-hyuk said something he should never have had to say. His voice was husky, as though he were holding something down, yet clearer and more desperate than ever. Emotion surged up inside I-hyeon. His eyes wavered helplessly in the air.

 

“There are so many things I don't understand or can't accept. But I'll pretend I don't know about any of them, so…”

 

“Just for tonight, stay with me. Please?”

 

After a moment of silence, Seung-hyuk's voice came back. There was despair in it that I-hyeon had never heard before.

 

“Kwon I-hyeon.”

 

“Hyung.”

 

The word Seung-hyuk finally spoke made I-hyeon's heart drop. He could not begin to imagine what feelings had driven him to say it.

 

Over that devastated voice, I-hyeon seemed to see Seung-hyuk's face as it had been when he stood outside his house in the sleet. Without thinking, he rubbed both hands over his eyes.

 

*You know those absolute pieces of human rubbish. Kids abandoned by their parents the moment they're born. People who beat and kill others.*

 

*Can people who've sinned go to heaven if they repent and confess?*

 

Looking back now, everything Seung-hyuk had asked that night must have been about himself. Perhaps the reason he had been too busy to attend school had been connected to all of this.

 

The thought that the other bodies discovered elsewhere might also be connected to Seung-hyuk made I-hyeon's fingertips turn cold. If so, it was even more important to stop Chan-yang from reporting the video.

 

“There's something going on at home, so I can't come right now.”

 

“But if you wait, just wait a little… I'll come straight over when I'm finished.”

 

The second sentence came hurriedly, in response to the suffocating silence that followed his first answer. A laugh sounded from Seung-hyuk, tinged with bitterness.

 

He was quiet for a moment, as if thinking something over, then spoke in a self-mocking voice.

 

“I've never known anyone who actually keeps a promise like that.”

 

“…What?”

 

“Nobody who's ever told me to wait has really come back.”

 

I-hyeon froze at the unexpected words, forgetting to breathe for a moment. He stared into space, his dry lips moving silently.

 

Seung-hyuk went on calmly, as though he had expected precisely that reaction.

 

“Kwon I-hyeon, will *you* come?”

 

“If I wait. Will you come this time?”

 

A faint tremor lay at the end of his otherwise flat voice. I-hyeon's vision darkened as he wondered what memories his answer had brought back to Seung-hyuk.

 

The air of the caretaker's room growing steadily colder while he waited. A small boy outside the orphanage, repeating his mother's instruction to wait. Perhaps other days, unknown to I-hyeon, when Seung-hyuk had stood endlessly waiting for someone who would never come.

 

And amid those memories, had Gu Seung-hyuk ever thought back to the answer I-hyeon had given him outside his gate? To that arrogant promise made without knowing what lay ahead, to the selfish desire he had claimed too hastily without being able to take responsibility for it?

 

*So don't worry. Wherever you go, I'll go with you.*

 

Having said that, what had he actually done? Belated self-loathing washed over him. He had only just realised that the moment he recognised his feelings as love, all he had chosen to do was run away like a coward.

 

Once he understood that, strange things began mingling with his wavering resolve. Through a mind numbed by fear and anxiety came late regret, a meagre sense of responsibility and gloomy resignation.

 

If he had not gone to the construction site as Chan-yang said, or at least if he had not called Chan-yang there, that video would never have been recorded.

 

But regretting it now was useless. There was only one choice left.

 

Whatever it took, even if this cost him something precious, he had to get the video from Chan-yang and destroy it. There was no other way to prevent Seung-hyuk's life from falling into ruin because of him.

 

I-hyeon stood still, his face bloodless, then bit hard into his lip and started walking again.

 

He slowly approached the old house ahead. Seung-hyuk's quiet breathing continued through the phone. Every step felt heavier than the last.

 

“… ”

 

*If everything ends and goes back to the way it was, could I tell you then? That running away with all my strength was the only defence I had left to protect myself?*

 

*That even after losing a heart I had never offered anyone, I was struggling in my own way to keep living?*

 

*Gu Seung-hyuk, I'm actually gay. I like men, not women. But the person I ended up loving, the first person I ever loved, happened to be you. That's why everything went this far. I should have hidden it for as long as I could, but I couldn't.*

 

“…I'll come. I've got something to tell you too.”

 

I-hyeon finally spoke after silently rehearsing the confession that would be his first and last.

 

*I'm sorry I love you.*

 

“I promise I'll come.”

 

“Just wait for me one more time. Please.”

 

He clenched his teeth, slowly closed and reopened his eyes, then ended the call without waiting for a reply.

 

When he put his phone away and lifted his head, the old red-brick building stood directly before him. He pressed his lips together, descended the half-flight of steps and stopped in front of the old iron door.

 

He could not imagine what would happen once he opened it, or what Chan-yang would demand of him, or how far those demands would go. But he knew one thing for certain.

 

By the time he came out, there could not be a single trace left in the world of that video.

 

Even if he had to destroy himself to achieve it. It was the last thing he could do — the last thing he *had* to do. The final act of friendship he could offer Gu Seung-hyuk, and the price he would pay for loving him without permission.

 

Click.

 

He turned the cold silver handle. The first thing he saw was several pairs of trainers strewn across the entrance. He stopped short at the unexpected sight.

 

The first person to notice him through the half-open door was one of Chan-yang's friends, smoking and tapping at a game controller. Seeing I-hyeon, he leant his head back and called to someone behind him.

 

“Eh? Chan-yang hyung, did you call him?”

 

“Who? What, Kwon I-hyeon?”

 

Indifferent voices came from different parts of the room. I-hyeon glanced around and saw people sprawled comfortably in front of the television. A games console was connected to it. They looked at him briefly, then turned back to the screen as though he were of no interest.

 

The scene was nothing like he had expected. I-hyeon remained at the threshold, unable to make himself go inside, one hand gripping the door handle. He had naturally assumed Chan-yang would be alone.

 

As he stood there with a rigid face, Chan-yang approached from where he had been standing with his arms folded. He tilted his head to meet I-hyeon's eyes.

 

“Wow… You actually came.”

 

Looking into I-hyeon's face, Chan-yang gave a disbelieving laugh. There was something almost hollow about his expression, but he also looked angry. He stared with unreadable eyes, ground his teeth and seized I-hyeon's pale arm.

 

Before I-hyeon had properly taken off his shoes, Chan-yang dragged him roughly away. He stumbled as they entered one of the rooms off to the side. The lock clicked shut behind them.

 

Chan-yang sat on a dirty mattress in the centre of the room, braced his hands behind him and looked up at I-hyeon.

 

His eyes glittered as they travelled slowly from I-hyeon's head to his feet. He bared his teeth in a mocking smile.

 

“Ha, fuck, I-hyeon. You really came here on your own two feet to stop Gu Seung-hyuk going to prison?”

 

“… ”

 

“Wow. That's some serious fucking devotion.”

 

His face was sharp, despite the snickering laughter and raised eyebrow. Everything was going according to his wishes, yet he looked displeased rather than happy.

 

When I-hyeon only stared at him, stiff-faced and without expression, Chan-yang's own face twisted further. He frowned derisively and took something from his pocket.

 

“But what good does standing there do? Eh? You think you're going to get something just by glaring at me?”

 

“… ”

 

“You need this, don't you? You can stand there all fucking day and nothing's going to happen.”

 

The object dangling from his raised hand was a phone with its screen switched off. I-hyeon looked closely, wondering whether Chan-yang might be trying something with a different phone, but it was definitely his.

 

The mere thought that the recording of Gu Seung-hyuk stabbing someone to death was inside it made bile rise in his throat and stopped his breath. And yet, for some reason, relief came with it.

 

“…Are you sure that's the only place you've got the video?”

 

I-hyeon clenched his fists and stared at the phone.

 

“Can you swear you haven't made a copy?”

 

The unusually cold voice made Chan-yang give a hollow laugh.

 

“I haven't.”

 

“You think I'm going to get myself killed by showing off without understanding who I'm dealing with? What's on this phone is everything.”

 

Chan-yang frowned and nodded towards the phone, but I-hyeon's gaze stayed fixed on his face.

 

He studied him with his lips pressed together, trying to judge whether he was telling the truth. Chan-yang laughed, knitted his brows and added irritably, “Fuck, what? Or should I go and make a copy for you right now?”

 

His displeased, confident tone did not sound like a lie. Still, I-hyeon could not afford to relax completely.

 

For the moment, however, he had no choice but to believe him. Biting the inside of his cheek, I-hyeon held out his hand.

 

“Then give me the phone first.”

 

“What?”

 

“I came like you told me. Give me the phone.”

 

At his words, Chan-yang frowned and squeezed his eyes shut. He let out a long sigh and rubbed a hand over his face. His mouth twisted as his hand moved away.

 

“Ah, seriously, I-hyeon… You still don't understand the situation?”

 

“What have you done since you got here that makes you think you can demand my phone?”

 

His stare was cold. The raised eyebrow and contempt in his voice made the meaning unmistakable. Chan-yang did not bother hiding his incredulity.

 

“I think you've seriously misunderstood something. Hey, is this how someone behaves when they've come to beg a favour?”

 

He lifted his foot and nudged I-hyeon's leg carelessly.

 

“You ought to be on your knees crawling, and instead you're standing there arguing with me.”

 

Frowning, Chan-yang looked at him and clicked his teeth. He unlocked the phone, touched the screen several times, then turned it around and adjusted the volume with his thumb. A white progress bar moved beneath the dark image.

 

“That bastard's obviously been mixed up in this kind of thing more than once. What do you think will happen if the police get hold of this?”

 

Chan-yang tilted his head and clicked his tongue.

 

“Wouldn't Gu Seung-hyuk feel fucking fantastic if his life got ruined because of the little shit he was always protecting? Right?”

 

Wind, rustling and a steady crackle of interference filled the room. I-hyeon's heart began pounding the moment he saw the dark screen trembling in Chan-yang's hand.

 

His face grew paler still. He clenched his fists. However frightened he was, he could not run away now, with clear evidence that might become a leash around Gu Seung-hyuk's neck right in front of him.

 

“What do you want me to do?”

 

“What do I have to do for you to hand over the original video?”

 

He tried to sound calm, but his voice shook at the end. Chan-yang leant forwards, resting his forearms on his bent knees, and looked up. I-hyeon stood with his mouth tightly closed, staring at the air beside Chan-yang's face.

 

A cruel smile spread across Chan-yang's mouth when he noticed the faint tremor in those dark eyes.

 

“Well. I'll have to think about that…”

 

He switched off the video, sent a message to someone, then planted both hands behind him again. Leaning back, he slowly looked I-hyeon up and down.

 

“Start by taking your clothes off.”

 

I-hyeon's fingers twitched involuntarily. Chan-yang laughed and shrugged.

 

“Ah, not all of them. Just the top half for now.”

 

There were other people outside, yet apparently Chan-yang intended to see this through right here. His gaze clung to I-hyeon as he slowly slid his arms out of his jacket.

 

After removing his coat and jumper, I-hyeon stood wearing only the shirt beneath them. He gripped the hem. Chan-yang gave a long whistle at the sight.

 

“Why are you just standing there? Want me to take it off for you?”

 

I-hyeon took half a step back at the taunt, then bit his lower lip and murmured, “…I'll do it.”

 

Standing in front of someone else and undressing himself was more suffocating than he had imagined. Perhaps it was worse because he could guess what would happen next. He moved his hands slowly and began undoing the buttons from the top.

 

The cold air against his bare skin raised the fine hairs at the back of his neck, but he did not stop. Once he had undone every button and slipped his arms free, the shirt slid down behind his heels with a soft rustle.

 

Chan-yang's gaze was relentless as it travelled over his exposed body. Wherever those eyes passed, I-hyeon felt as though something black and damp had been left on his skin. He clenched his teeth against the disgust.

 

“Come and sit down.”

 

Chan-yang indicated a spot to the bare-chested I-hyeon. His gaze had settled between his own legs. He spread his knees a little wider as he sat, tossed his phone aside and said, “On your knees.”

 

I-hyeon glanced once at the black phone lying on the filthy blanket, then slowly knelt.

 

Because of the mattress's height, Chan-yang's lap was directly in front of his face. I-hyeon stared at the stitching of his jeans, then dropped his head. A sharp voice sounded above him.

 

“What are you doing? Do I have to explain every little thing?”

 

His hands tightened against his thighs. He bit the soft inside of his cheek, but sourness kept rising in his throat.

 

I-hyeon struggled to smooth his contorted expression and lifted his head. Even then, he could not bring himself to move his hands. Watching him hesitate, clutching helplessly at his own thighs, Chan-yang scowled.

 

“Oi, I-hyeon.”

 

“Am I raping you right now?”

 

Before I-hyeon could raise his head fully and meet Chan-yang's eyes, a hand pressed down on the back of his skull, forcing his face into the man's lap.

 

“Then don't sit there making that face. Makes me feel fucking weird.”

 

“Like I'm forcing a boy who doesn't want it, frightening him and hurting him, eh?”

 

Each phrase was punctuated by another firm shove of his head. His nose, eyes, cheeks and lips were ground roughly against the hard, coarse fabric of Chan-yang's trousers. I-hyeon had no choice but to squeeze his mouth and eyes shut. Then his head was suddenly wrenched back up, the fingers around his crown pressing painfully into his scalp.

 

“That's why you should've just behaved like you always did. If you'd been obedient, I wouldn't have gone this far.”

 

“Ngh, wait…!”

 

“If that fucking bastard hadn't come barging in and put all sorts of ideas in your head—”

 

Chan-yang glared down at him, his face twisted savagely.

 

“You wouldn't have made all that fuss about dying, would you?”

 

He ground his teeth as he watched I-hyeon shut his eyes with his face screwed up. Releasing his hair, Chan-yang seized his narrow chin and held it in place. He lifted his other hand and tapped I-hyeon's cheek.

 

“Kwon I-hyeon. Open your eyes.”

 

“I'm doing this so you'll get it through your skull who you're standing in front of and what you did to him.”

 

“…Ngh.”

 

“So open your eyes properly and look at your hyung. Eh?”

 

When I-hyeon finally managed to lift his eyelids, Chan-yang's glittering eyes were waiting for him. Chan-yang looked down with the whites showing above his irises and nodded towards the corner where he had thrown his phone.

 

“You do want to take your present home, don't you? The one that'll save your friend.”

 

The moment I-hyeon's trembling gaze moved to the side, Chan-yang's fingers pushed into his soft hair again, as though he could not tolerate I-hyeon looking anywhere else.

 

Unable to bear the nausea, I-hyeon shut his eyes, red with a reflexive response, and shook his head. Chan-yang's gaze sharpened when I-hyeon seemed to be trying to shake off his hand. He yanked I-hyeon's head right back. I-hyeon gasped, his Adam's apple moving up and down.

 

“Didn't I tell you not to look away?”

 

“I know, just—cough—let go of this…!”

 

Bzz. Bzz.

 

As he finally got the words out, he felt his phone vibrating in his back trouser pocket. The sound filled the room, but Chan-yang, his temper almost entirely out of control, did not seem to hear it.

 

I-hyeon had his hair caught and his head forced backwards, and could barely breathe. He had no chance of checking his phone. He simply listened to the vibration, painfully turning his stiff neck to look up at Chan-yang.

 

“If you're making noises like that later, the other boys outside are going to hear. I-hyeon, is that because you want to play with them too?”

 

“…Hh…”

 

“Fuck, I've got a weak stomach, so that never occurred to me. But if our I-hyeon's turned into such a slut that one hyung isn't enough for him, I suppose I could grit my teeth and cooperate. Eh?”

 

His voice over the unnatural electronic buzz was vicious. Perhaps because his eyes were wet, Chan-yang's face looked strangely distorted.

 

“What should I do? Shall I actually call them all in?”

 

I-hyeon was suddenly terrified because Lee Chan-yang really might do it. Pain rose from everywhere the rough hands had touched him, but more urgently he was so short of breath that his mind was growing dizzy.

 

He felt as though every bit of strength had drained from his body despite having done nothing. I-hyeon squeezed his stinging eyes shut and shook his head.

 

“Hah… hh… hah…”

 

His eyes were red as he struggled for breath. Chan-yang noticed the damp sheen of his lips, his wet eyelashes, the fact that all of it was his own work. He gave a faint, humourless laugh.

 

Looking at I-hyeon, who could no longer resist and could only gasp, a belated satisfaction swelled in Chan-yang's chest. He curled his mouth into a cruel smile and loosened his grip.

 

“I-hyeon. Starting to understand how you're supposed to behave now?”

 

He watched I-hyeon's head fall weakly and rummaged in his own jacket. His other hand, stroking I-hyeon's cheek as though soothing him, had become gentler.

 

He took a cigarette from the packet and lit it. Just as the red ember bloomed at its tip, I-hyeon's phone began vibrating for the third time.

 

“I'll stay still now. You do the rest yourself.”

 

The acrid smell reached I-hyeon's nose. Through his dazed thoughts came the idea that perhaps he should submit a little more readily, get it over with quickly and leave.

 

He bit his tongue hard enough to taste blood, then slowly raised his head. Chan-yang, looking down at him, inhaled until his cheeks hollowed and exhaled smoke over I-hyeon's face.

 

Behind the eyes he closed reflexively against the smoke, he saw something like a dark-red shimmer. It was the same colour as the pool of blood that had slowly spread over the concrete at the construction site.

 

The wavering shape gathered into one, then changed into a familiar view: the library bathed in pale-yellow sunlight.

 

Over Seung-hyuk, who lay peacefully asleep on the sofa, the words from the book I-hyeon had been reading that day seemed to appear.

 

*Who among you would choose death to atone for the mortal sin of mankind, and choose righteousness to save the unrighteous? Where in these heavens remains a love so precious?*

 

Pressing his lips together, I-hyeon slowly opened his eyes.

 

He edged forwards on his knees and placed both hands on Chan-yang's thighs. Ignoring the revulsion spreading down his spine, he lowered his head. Just then, a commotion from beyond the bedroom door reached his ears.

 

Click. Click. Click.

 

“Who said you could lift your head?”

 

It was Chan-yang who stopped I-hyeon from instinctively looking up at the sound of the door handle rattling violently. The hand holding the cigarette rested lightly against the back of his head.

 

At the weight of that insignificant touch, I-hyeon froze completely. Then the bedroom door flew open with a crash louder than anything before it.

 

Bang!

 

The voices that had been audible outside fell silent at once, as though someone had thrown water over them. The only distinct sound was someone breathing heavily. Cold air rushed in, brushing the upper body he had been forced to leave uncovered.

 

The gooseflesh spreading across him so suddenly did not seem to be caused by the draught alone. Amid the voices murmuring and trying to restrain someone, he thought he had heard a name that had no place being here.

 

I-hyeon went rigid. Then Chan-yang's breezy voice rang out.

 

“Wow. Doesn't feel like long since I texted you. You're here already?”

 

Chan-yang took his hand off I-hyeon's head and raised his cigarette to his lips. The smile he directed towards the door was brighter than it had been moments earlier. He rolled his neck as though stretching and lifted his chin towards Seung-hyuk.

 

“What were you running for? I said you could take your time.”

 

Among the people standing as still as though time itself had stopped, Chan-yang alone moved freely. He seemed perfectly at ease, as though he had expected this very scene.

 

He bent his head close to I-hyeon and spoke in an uncharacteristically gentle voice.

 

“Hey, I-hyeon, wait just a minute. Let me finish talking to him, then you can carry on where you left off, all right?”

 

The cold tip of a finger brushed lightly across his downy cheek. Chan-yang picked up his phone and stood.

 

He swaggered over to Seung-hyuk, scratched near his eyebrow and looked him up and down, then put the cigarette between his lips. He spoke indistinctly while leisurely straightening Seung-hyuk's clothes.

 

“Wow, what's with the sharp suit? If you're going somewhere nice, don't keep it to yourself. Take your hyungs along sometimes, Seung-hyuk.”

 

“… ”

 

“And if you're coming inside, take your fucking shoes off.”

 

Chan-yang nudged Seung-hyuk's black dress shoes with his foot, but Seung-hyuk did not move. He looked only at I-hyeon, as though none of the words being spoken right in front of his face could reach him.

 

Seeing where he was looking, Chan-yang smiled broadly and raised a hand towards Seung-hyuk's crooked tie. Seung-hyuk knocked his arm roughly aside and finally opened his mouth.

 

“Kwon I-hyeon.”

 

“… ”

 

“You said you couldn't come because something was happening at home.”

 

“Is this place…”

 

After a pause, the low whisper sounded as though he were finally letting out a breath he had forced himself to hold.

 

“…Is this your home?”

 

His voice was heavier than I-hyeon had ever heard, damp with something beyond ordinary sorrow, almost sinister. But the words were closer to a question without emotion than an accusation or interrogation. I-hyeon could not even move his lips.

 

From the moment he understood that the person who had opened the door and witnessed this was Gu Seung-hyuk, darkness had swallowed not only his sight but his thoughts.

 

His whole body stiffened like one of those people from a myth who turned to stone on seeing something. Not a fingertip would move. His hands pressed harder against his own thighs, but that was all.

 

Still kneeling where he had been, I-hyeon could do nothing but lower his head in despair.

 

“Wow, so this is his home, is it? Kwon I-hyeon's?”

 

“Well, I suppose if he's got a key and comes here all the time, it's bound to feel like home. No need to nitpick.”

 

Seung-hyuk treated him as though he did not exist and kept his gaze on I-hyeon alone, yet Chan-yang did not grow angry. He merely glanced between them, grinning. Unable to suppress his laughter, he nudged the toe of Seung-hyuk's shoe again.

 

“Anyway, where's what I asked you to bring?”

 

“Asked him to bring something? Hyung, what did you ask him for?”

 

One of the boys watching warily from beyond the door looked puzzled. Chan-yang widened his eyes at him, then shrugged and gave an easy laugh.

 

“Oh. Told him that if he was nearby, he could buy some condoms on the way in. You bastards ought to have the decency to replace them when you use the last of them.”

 

The joking tone hung in the air, but nobody laughed. They could all sense the frightening hostility coming from Seung-hyuk, and their eyes shifted nervously between them. Chan-yang paid them no attention, leaning against the door and blowing out a long stream of smoke.

 

“We don't have any spare sheets. Can't go making a mess.”

 

“Ah, and it wouldn't exactly be kind to I-hyeon's pride to make one of my friends go and buy them, would it?”

 

Chan-yang deliberately dragged out his words, wrinkling his nose with a soft laugh. Then he held an open palm before Seung-hyuk, the one not holding his cigarette.

 

It was an unmistakable gesture asking to be given something, but Seung-hyuk did not react. He only looked down at I-hyeon with his blackened eyes. Chan-yang snickered.

 

“What, you didn't get them?”

 

“Ah… I-hyeon, can't be helped. We'll have to do it without, won't we? You don't mind?”

 

The way I-hyeon had been sitting between his spread legs. His bare upper body. The shirt lying neatly behind him as though to prove he had undressed himself.

 

Chan-yang's mocking words gathered all of it into one conclusion. Anyone could imagine what had been happening immediately before they arrived. I-hyeon could not even think of an explanation.

 

His thoughts were washed white and utterly blank. His eyes wandered aimlessly until Chan-yang took hold of the door handle and nodded dismissively towards Seung-hyuk.

 

“Going to stand there all night?”

 

Chan-yang ground out his cigarette against the door and smiled with one corner of his mouth raised. He had noticed Seung-hyuk's jaw muscles twitching, as though he were holding something down with all his strength.

 

Following Seung-hyuk's gaze, Chan-yang tilted his head and looked at I-hyeon kneeling beside the bed. He gave a deliberately breathless laugh and nodded.

 

“Ahh. You've still got something to say to I-hyeon.”

 

With a false look of sympathy, Chan-yang frowned and clicked his tongue. Then he strode towards I-hyeon, caught his thin arm and hauled him upwards.

 

I-hyeon was pulled to his feet in an instant. His eyes wavered, but he could not lift his head. Chan-yang wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled his exposed body tightly against himself.

 

“But as you can see, he's not really in a position to have a conversation with anyone right now…”

 

The fingers around his waist stroked softly at his pale skin. I-hyeon shuddered at the crawling sensation down his spine. Seung-hyuk's eyes moved towards it.

 

I-hyeon stiffened instinctively. He shifted his weight away from Chan-yang, but Chan-yang calmly took his phone from his back pocket.

 

I-hyeon's dark eyes wavered at once as though he had seen a ghost. Seeing him staring at the phone with his lips pressed tight, Chan-yang pulled him closer and rested his chin against his soft hair, giving Seung-hyuk a wink.

 

“You're a man too, so you know how it is.”

 

“It's fucking annoying being interrupted in the middle of something like this, right?”

 

Chan-yang was more satisfied than ever with how obediently I-hyeon stood in front of Seung-hyuk, unable to speak or move. So he failed to notice the savage cold rage in Seung-hyuk's eyes as he snickered.

 

“If it's not urgent, go and play a game with the lads over there. Give us about an hour and we'll be finished—”

 

Crash.

 

It happened in an instant. The end of Chan-yang's sentence was replaced by a tremendous noise.

 

“F-fuck, what the hell?”

 

Suddenly sprawled on the floor, Chan-yang could only brace himself on his hands and stare, his eyes wide. He had no chance even to touch his stinging cheek before Seung-hyuk's fist slammed into his temple. Seung-hyuk grabbed Chan-yang by the collar, hauled him up and began punching him over and over.

 

“Hey! Hey! What are you doing? Somebody stop him!”

 

Chan-yang's friends, who had been frozen by the sudden attack, finally threw aside what they were holding and tried to grab Seung-hyuk's arms. He shook them all off with a single sweep.

 

There was a series of crashes as the boys trying to restrain him were thrown aside. In the chaos, Chan-yang's phone, which had fallen to the floor, slid a long way away.

 

Thud. Thud!

 

Every time Seung-hyuk's fist struck Chan-yang's face, a heavy, dull sound echoed around the room. It sounded less like punching a person than striking meat, so savage that it made the skin crawl.

 

The others rushed Seung-hyuk several more times, but it did no good. Even when someone fetched a hard object and struck his broad back with it, Seung-hyuk kept punching Chan-yang like a man possessed.

 

At last they decided they could not stop him themselves and hurried out of the hideout. I-hyeon thought he heard someone shouting into a phone.

 

“Cough, cough.”

 

The flat had grown quieter since the others left. Chan-yang's coughing and laboured breathing echoed through it. He was covered in blood, yet he kept snickering as though he found it funny.

 

Seung-hyuk stopped punching for a moment to loosen his tie. Chan-yang took the chance to raise his head. He looked towards I-hyeon and grinned with his face beaten almost beyond recognition.

 

“Hey, I-hyeon… If you're going to stand there and just watch, cough…”

 

“Something bad's going to happen to the person you like…”

 

“Ngh… ah…”

 

“Heh… You don't care about that?”

 

Seung-hyuk's hand faltered at *the person you like*. Seeing it, Chan-yang bared his bloodstained teeth and burst out laughing at the ceiling. A cough sent fresh blood spilling from his mouth.

 

“Heh, heh. Your first love's going to be fucked…”

 

“Ngh!”

 

As soon as the words ended, Seung-hyuk's fist struck again. The terrible impact rang out. Yet Seung-hyuk looked even more contorted than the person he was hitting.

 

He climbed fully onto Chan-yang's chest and kept punching. Blood scattered from a face that already had nowhere left uninjured. Chan-yang's eyes began to lose focus, and his pained moans grew fainter.

 

Terrified, I-hyeon realised what Chan-yang had meant. He hurried over and pushed at Seung-hyuk's shoulders with both hands.

 

“Gu Seung-hyuk, stop. Stop… If you keep going, hh, something really bad will happen. Please, stop!”

 

His mouth was so dry that each breath seemed to scrape against his throat, yet his cheeks were already wet.

 

Tears dripped from his chin. I-hyeon, trying to block Seung-hyuk, hurriedly looked down to check Chan-yang's condition.

 

“Hh… hh… It really will…”

 

One glance at Chan-yang's face told him this could not end as a simple fistfight. If the police became involved, there was no telling what questions would come up during the investigation.

 

The fear that Gu Seung-hyuk's life might be dragged into the mud because of him made something inside I-hyeon's chest collapse.

 

“Hyung, hh, Lee Chan-yang… Wake up! Wake up, I said!”

 

He bit his lip and shook Chan-yang by the shoulders, but heard only faint breathing. His face was swollen beyond recognition, not one part of it untouched, and his half-closed eyes were unfocused. Fear overwhelmed I-hyeon.

 

If Chan-yang died here, every effort I-hyeon had made to stop the video would be for nothing.

 

“… ”

 

Seung-hyuk had stopped punching the moment I-hyeon began striking his shoulders and chest to restrain him. He now stared down at I-hyeon's face as he wept uncontrollably.

 

The room was so quiet that I-hyeon's sobs echoed clearly. Transparent tears slipped between his soaked eyelashes. Then Seung-hyuk's desolate voice broke the silence.

 

“Was it because you were fucking around with this bastard that you couldn't be friends with me?”

 

“…Hh…”

 

“Is that what you meant when you said I'd never understand you, not even if I died and came back?”

 

The hollow questions reached I-hyeon clearly, but he could not make sense of them. He was still struggling for breath.

 

His eyes had found Chan-yang's phone lying on the floor ahead of him. The urgent thought that he had to get rid of the recording inside it, whatever happened next, filled his mind in an instant.

 

I-hyeon took his hands off Chan-yang and slowly raised his upper body.

 

“Th-the phone…”

 

“I have to delete it. Hh… The video. I have to delete the video first…”

 

It was a desperate mutter, as though that was the only thing he could think about. Seung-hyuk's gaze slowly moved to the black phone lying in the corner.

 

I-hyeon crawled across the floor, his pale, thin upper body smeared with blood. Seung-hyuk gave a hollow laugh at the sight, then looked down at his own scraped knuckles and murmured bitterly, almost too softly to hear.

 

“…So you even filmed yourselves having fun.”

 

I-hyeon did not hear him. He crawled to the phone, picked it up with shaking hands and searched for the photo gallery. Against its black background, several video thumbnails appeared, washed in bluish moonlight.

 

Kneeling hurriedly, he gripped the phone in both hands as though afraid someone might take it away. When he touched the playback bar beneath a video, several black silhouettes began moving in the dark.

 

Along with a rustling wind, the footage showed something shaped like a person leaning forwards and apparently stabbing at something.

 

But it looked less like a recording of a murder than black shadows overlapping one another. He replayed it desperately several times. Every time it was the same.

 

The recording was barely three minutes long. Perhaps because of the poor light, the picture was full of interference and so dark that not one face could be recognised.

 

Someone who had not known what had happened would barely be able to make sense of the footage. I-hyeon's hands, holding the phone, fell limply into his lap.

 

This could not prove that Gu Seung-hyuk had killed anyone.

 

The moment he realised it had all been Chan-yang's bluff, tears poured out more fiercely than before.

 

As though unable to bear even this evidence remaining in the world, I-hyeon wiped his blurred eyes with his forearms and hurriedly pressed Delete.

 

He searched the recently deleted folder and the cloud in case a backup or another copy remained, but even that did not reassure him.

 

When he finally switched the phone off altogether and shoved it deep into his pocket, a low, husky voice came from behind.

 

“…What a fucking sight, Kwon I-hyeon.”

 

The short sentence sounded more than calm; it was almost mournful. A tear slid from his chin as he slowly lifted his head.

 

I-hyeon could not bring himself to turn around. He stared at the yellowing wallpaper instead. Behind him, a faint, breathless laugh was followed by a bitter mutter.

 

“This is why I hate fucking queers.”

 

I-hyeon bit hard into his blood-tasting lip. He swallowed his breath to keep his gasps from escaping, but he could not hide the way his whole body trembled.

 

The strength drained from his legs, and he slowly sank from where he had been kneeling into a sitting position. Seung-hyuk spoke quietly to his bowed back.

 

“You shouldn't have told me to wait.”

 

“… ”

 

“Doesn't take much to make a complete fool of someone.”

 

The single tear that slipped between I-hyeon's desperately closed eyelids was beyond his control.

 

*What am I supposed to say now? How could I possibly say it? Where would I even begin explaining?*

 

*Would he believe me if I told him now?*

 

*Would explaining what happened make any difference?*

 

He turned all the scattered words swirling through his mind over on his tongue, but not one would come out. With his eyes closed, I-hyeon merely moved his lips.

 

Then sirens sounded outside the window, growing closer. Several sets of footsteps hurried down the stairs. Through the open front door came paramedics carrying a stretcher and three police officers.

 

Their eyes widened at the wrecked room. They went straight to Chan-yang, who was lying in the centre of it, and urgently checked his pulse. Once they confirmed he was still breathing, their conversation became hurried.

 

The paramedics unfolded the stretcher on the floor, lifted Chan-yang onto it and rushed out of the room.

 

All that remained were a boy sitting half-naked on the floor, another standing in the middle of the room with both fists stained bright red, and a police officer taking handcuffs from his back pocket.

 

“We've received a report. You'll have to come down to the station with us for a while.”

 

No sooner had he finished speaking than the handcuffs closed around Seung-hyuk's wrists.

 

I-hyeon watched his retreating back, his body trembling faintly, as Seung-hyuk quietly allowed himself to be led from the room. One of the remaining officers draped a blanket around I-hyeon and helped him to his feet.

 

Even in a heart mired in the mud, a pulse kept beating.

 

──── 📘📘 ────

 

Meeting his parents while sitting in a cell at the police station was a calmer affair than I-hyeon had expected. His father looked down at him with eyes utterly devoid of warmth, then turned away without a word.

 

When I-hyeon glanced back before leaving the holding area, Seung-hyuk was sitting with his eyes closed, leaning against the wall.

 

The investigation took place over several sessions. The people who had been at the hideout gave detailed accounts, from various perspectives, of Seung-hyuk appearing suddenly and assaulting Chan-yang.

 

As evidence that they had tried everything to stop him without success, they pointed to the wrecked state of the hideout. A charge of property damage was added to those already brought against Seung-hyuk.

 

Chan-yang, the victim in the case, was unconscious in intensive care. That left the police concentrating on I-hyeon, the only witness who had been present from beginning to end.

 

But I-hyeon could not be honest with the detectives and lawyers. Explaining why he had gone to the hideout in the first place would mean talking about Lee Chan-yang's phone, and that would inevitably lead to what had happened at the construction site beforehand.

 

I-hyeon did not speak even once during his witness interviews. Seung-hyuk did the same, refusing to say a word despite warnings that refusing to give a statement could lead to a worse outcome.

 

Over the following days, outsiders came and went at the school. Chan-yang's condition was too serious for the incident to be dismissed as an ordinary case of school violence.

 

Documents passed back and forth, and several court hearings followed. Eventually, it was decided that Gu Seung-hyuk would be sent to a juvenile detention centre. The school violence committee ordered I-hyeon to transfer to another school as a disciplinary measure.

 

The cold air that had lingered for so long had disappeared. Spring passed, and before he knew it, the warmth of summer was unmistakable. I-hyeon sat alone on a bench in the small park in front of his house, staring down at the tips of his shoes.

 

The two people who had turned his life upside down had both vanished from it in an instant.

 

It was time to accept that the past few months, which had gone by without him understanding quite how, had not been a dream or a delusion.

 

I-hyeon slowly rose and crouched on the ground. He spread out the papers he had brought and touched the flame of his lighter to them. The sheets curled inwards, leaving black edges, before flames rose from the paper.

 

Sparks occasionally lifted from the small, flickering fire. Thinking back, this park was where he had first met Gu Seung-hyuk. Remembering the red ember of a cigarette burning in mid-air like a will-o'-the-wisp, I-hyeon took something from his pocket.

 

It was Chan-yang's phone, which he had taken from the hideout that day several months earlier and hidden somewhere no one knew about.

 

The faces had not been recognisable in the footage, but he did not know what might happen if the picture were enhanced or the video analysed on a computer. The safest thing was to make it disappear from the world completely, so that not even the data could be recovered.

 

He had to make sure the recording could never be used against Seung-hyuk, no matter what Chan-yang might say if he eventually woke up. For the last thing he could do, the thing he had to do, I-hyeon slowly stood. The flames cast mottled shadows over the back of his hand.

 

He no longer wondered how Seung-hyuk had come to the hideout and witnessed that scene. Nor did he intend to clear up the misunderstanding that he was in love with Chan-yang.

 

He did not want to stir up the past when Seung-hyuk must already regret it. Besides, every explanation I-hyeon could give would ultimately come down to the same words: *It was because I loved you.* And amid a catastrophe like this, there could be no sentence more insulting to him than that.

 

I-hyeon turned his wrist and opened his hand. The phone fell with a dull tap into the middle of the flames. As its screen curled and burned, little fragments began to pop and spit.

 

I-hyeon watched the phone without flinching, even when sparks landed at his feet. He remained until it blackened, lost its shape and melted away.

 

The embers continued to throw off heat long after the phone and bundles of paper had burned. Only when he straightened did he realise how much time had passed.

 

A breeze sent a fallen leaf across his eyes. As his view cleared, he noticed a pair of black trainers stopped on the far side of the glowing embers.

 

“Kwon I-hyeon.”

 

It was the first time in months he had heard that voice. I-hyeon slowly raised his head and met black eyes in an expressionless face. The features had grown sharper in the past few months. Seung-hyuk looked down at him without speaking, then opened his mouth.

 

“Kwon I-hyeon. Have you got…”

 

“Not one fucking thing to say to me?”

 

The crackle of burning embers sounded in the silence. Their gazes met through the hazy smoke, heavy with heat. *If eyes could speak, would you be able to read what I'm saying?*

 

I-hyeon gazed at a wound beside Seung-hyuk's eye that looked as though it had appeared recently, then slowly lowered his eyelids.

 

“…Hah. Guess you haven't.”

 

How had he got that injury? Had he been beaten badly at home? Was his body all right now? There were so many things I-hyeon wanted to ask, but he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek.

 

Watching him, Seung-hyuk's gaze grew fiercer. Seeing I-hyeon avoid his eyes and keep his mouth shut like someone guilty of a crime only fuelled his anger.

 

Seung-hyuk clenched his teeth and spoke in a low voice.

 

“My life was already fucking miserable. Thanks to you, it's become a complete fucking swamp.”

 

“… ”

 

“Don't ever let me see your face again. If the day comes when we meet again, then you…”

 

Seung-hyuk's voice was colder than ever before. The skin around his eyes, unusually for him, had reddened. He swallowed and whispered.

 

“You'll regret this moment. More than you can imagine.”

 

The wavering firelight laid faint, shallow shadows across Seung-hyuk's face. Blood at the corner of his split mouth, as always, shone almost black. I-hyeon looked at it, then, as though under a spell, slipped a hand into his pocket. He gripped something tightly and slowly drew it out.

 

As Seung-hyuk turned to leave, I-hyeon took a step and held out his hand.

 

“This.”

 

“… ”

 

“I've wanted to give it to you since the first time I saw you.”

 

In the centre of his slowly opening palm lay a tube of wound ointment that had never been used. Perhaps his heart had begun to turn towards Seung-hyuk all the way back on that chilly night in the park.

 

*Gu Seung-hyuk. If I'd never reached out to you that day, would we both have come through this without being worn away?*

 

I-hyeon took Seung-hyuk's still hand and placed the ointment in it. Before he had time even to think how cold the fingers touching his were, their hands separated.

 

There was no longer any reason left for I-hyeon to stand before Gu Seung-hyuk. He was the first to turn away.

 

“Take care.”

 

He could not make sense of the expression Seung-hyuk wore when they last faced each other. There were no words in I-hyeon's vocabulary to describe it. One thing was certain: he would never see an expression quite like it again.

 

I-hyeon turned his back on Seung-hyuk and began to walk. He left the park, where the streetlights pooled on the ground, and stepped into the dark alley beyond.

 

He left behind the unusually bitter cold snap that had cut through the winter and spring of his nineteenth year. He secretly crumpled the memory of loving Seung-hyuk and tucked it away at the very bottom of his heart.

 

*Gu Seung-hyuk.*

 

*I never wanted to sell my feelings cheaply.*

 

*I didn't want to push them into someone's arms as though disposing of a worthless object.*

 

*So this was the fairest bargain of all.*

 

*The secret I take away will weigh exactly as much as the love I felt.*