Winter season volume 3

Winter Solstice — The Longest Night (1)

In the distance, a red cross stood atop a spire. Suspended against the darkening sky, the neon symbol glowed so red it seemed to be burning. The road to church, which he walked every Sunday evening, felt unusually long. He had been going there since childhood, and the place had become so familiar that he had taken it for granted. He had only recently begun to avoid it.

 

Passing the people who greeted him at the entrance, I-hyeon entered the sanctuary and received nods from here and there. He bowed his head in return and made his way as far into the corner behind a pillar as possible—as far away as he could get from his father, who sat at the front in his minister’s robes.

 

Ever since he had told his family the previous winter that he thought he liked men, every day had felt as precarious as walking on thin ice. He had not expected them to understand, but his father’s looks were harsher than he had prepared himself for.

 

His father watched his every move around other people as though keeping him under surveillance, and it was worse at church. It was almost as though he were on guard against anyone noticing his son’s flaw.

 

“Now, let us begin our service for the fourth Sunday of February with a moment of silent prayer.”

 

As the service leader spoke, the gentle organ began playing the hymn's introduction. Reverent voices filled the sanctuary. I-hyeon was belatedly leafing through his hymn book when he sensed someone approaching beside him.

 

“Ah… Fuck. Always so many bloody people.”

 

He did not need to look up to recognise the voice in his ear. Of all the seats available, the man had come right into this corner and sat so close that their shoulders touched. I-hyeon’s mouth went dry. Making a determined effort to ignore him, he shifted a little to the side.

 

“We will now hear our testimonies of faith. Brother Kim Woo-hyeon and Sister Park Hyeon-a, please come forward.”

 

At the service leader’s calm announcement, someone two seats away stood up. As I-hyeon half-rose to let them past and sat down again, a hand from his other side settled on his thigh. His back instantly stiffened, and the corners of his mouth froze awkwardly. He slowly turned his head, but the man responsible was merely looking ahead with perfect composure.

 

The hand stroking his leg sent a sickening shiver down his back and set his heart racing. As though amused by I-hyeon’s rigid posture, the man tilted his head slightly, letting red hair fall across his forehead.

 

“Eyes to the front, I-hyeon.”

 

He tried to stop the slowly stroking hand, only to have his own hand caught instead. I-hyeon bit his lower lip and lowered his head. It felt as though his father, standing far ahead, was looking straight towards them.

 

The man with hair dyed an incongruous red for a church sanctuary was Chan-yang, a year older than I-hyeon. True to his name, Lee Chan-yang—“praise”—had been born into the faith, yet he lived so entirely as he pleased that it was a wonder he still attended church every week.

 

He had been expelled for poor attendance and, despite being twenty, had still not progressed beyond his final year of secondary school. Even with the start of a new year, he continued his delinquent ways.

 

He caused a stir both in and out of school with his outrageous appearance and apparent lack of interest in studying. Yet some of the adults at church insisted that Chan-yang was merely going through a rebellious phase. However much trouble he caused, he never missed Sunday worship. But I-hyeon knew it was not worship that brought him to church every week.

 

“With so much evil and so many temptations in the world, my faith has gradually weakened, and I myself…”

 

The speaker's words, held by the microphone, seemed to go in one ear and straight out the other. All I-hyeon’s attention was fixed on Chan-yang’s hand on his leg. Yet there was nothing he could do. He could only clench his fist and fret over whether someone at the front might turn and see them.

 

“Hyung, please…”

 

He tried gradually shifting his leg away, but it was no use. Finally, he whispered in Chan-yang’s ear, barely audible, and Chan-yang gave an amused snort.

 

“What’s wrong? You like it. Keep still.”

 

The hand I-hyeon had been struggling to withdraw was caught firmly, their fingers interlocked. The feeling of those hard, rough fingertips rubbing the soft skin between his fingers was unfamiliar and unpleasant. The setting made him painfully self-conscious, and above all, he was worried that his father might see.

 

“I-hyeon, I hear you’re transferring to our school?”

 

“…”

 

“Shame the higher and lower classes are in different buildings, but it should be fun. Right?”

 

Apparently uninterested in the testimonies being delivered at the front, he inclined his head towards I-hyeon’s ear. When their whispering began drawing glances, I-hyeon quickly pulled his head away and tried to shake off his hand.

 

“Shh.”

 

But Chan-yang only tightened his grip and drew I-hyeon’s hand towards himself. He whispered into his ear.

 

“You don’t want everyone finding out you’re gay, do you?”

 

“…”

 

“Be good, I-hyeon.”

 

At those words, which drained him of every scrap of resistance, the strength left his struggling hand. The light, almost teasing tone no longer made him angry or frightened. It simply left him helpless, like a butterfly held by its wings. I-hyeon abandoned all effort to escape Chan-yang and quietly lowered his head. Chan-yang smiled in satisfaction.

 

Wherever that broad palm had stroked his thigh, it felt as though mould had begun to grow. How had it come to this? He knew the question was meaningless, yet his mind kept turning over the past. Biting his lower lip repeatedly, I-hyeon waited for time to pass. The moment the service was declared over, he sprang to his feet. But Chan-yang remained sitting leisurely beside him, his legs crossed.

 

Unless Chan-yang moved, he could not get out. Unable to bring himself to speak, he repeatedly clenched and unclenched his hands until Chan-yang finally rose. Looking down at him, Chan-yang gave a short laugh and lowered his face towards his ear. I-hyeon was hurriedly trying to draw back and turn away when a quiet voice reached him.

 

“Kwon I-hyeon.”

 

“See you at school next week.”

 

I-hyeon bit hard into his lower lip. After patting his shoulder a couple of times, Chan-yang turned and left first. The breath I-hyeon had been holding burst from between his lips. He dragged a hand down his face, let out a deep sigh and quickly set off in the opposite direction.

 

By the time he fled the church, darkness had fallen all around. Only the scattered streetlights cast pools of yellow onto the ground. With each step, his shadow lengthened and shortened again. If there was anything to be thankful for, it was that he had only one shadow—that Chan-yang was at least not following him home.

 

Although winter had passed, the weather forecasters had spent all day warning of an approaching spring cold snap. Perhaps that was why there was not a single person in the street. The chilly wind brushing the tip of his nose made I-hyeon hunch in on himself, too, but he could not go straight home. Every Wednesday, his father came home early after the young people’s service.

 

He had hurried out of church precisely to avoid going home with him. Where the road divided into the alley leading uphill to his house and the main road towards the town centre, I-hyeon stopped. He looked up the alley, hemmed in by imposing high walls, then turned in the opposite direction.

 

About five minutes from the junction stood a small park. With its haphazardly planted ornamental trees, a few old benches and a slide nobody used, it attracted almost no visitors. I-hyeon often spent time there on Wednesday evenings before going home. He only had to wait until his father finished dinner and went upstairs to his study, so it was never very long.

 

As usual, I-hyeon headed for the bench in the corner. He pushed both hands into the pockets of his padded jacket and drew his feet close together. A sigh escaped him as the cold seeped through his thin uniform trousers. Then he happened to look up. A red light hovered about a metre in front of him. His hunched body went still, and he raised his eyes warily.

 

“Ah.”

 

A moment later, a figure came into focus. Judging by the uniform, he seemed to be around I-hyeon’s age. The boy, who looked a whole head taller than him, was leaning against the wall, openly smoking.

 

The cigarette ember burned in the darkness like a will-o’-the-wisp, casting a red glow over his face. Before I-hyeon noticed the striking features that might have belonged to an actor, he noticed the injuries scattered across them. They looked like the marks left by a beating.

 

“…”

 

Their eyes met, but the boy did not look away. Instead, he simply continued watching I-hyeon as though studying him. I-hyeon turned his head first. It was not uncomfortable, but he was conscious of it.

 

Seeing someone else smoke suddenly made him want a cigarette. He reached into the front pocket of his bag for his packet, but the small box beneath his fingertips felt far too light. When he took it out, it was empty. Only then did he remember that, while smoking after school, he had thought he ought to stop at a convenience shop.

 

Frowning faintly, I-hyeon slowly raised his head. The boy before him was still watching him smoke. A flicker of irritation rose inside him. What are you staring at? As though mocking his lack of cigarettes, the boy exhaled a long stream of smoke. Their eyes met through the thinning white haze. While I-hyeon debated whether to ask to borrow one, the boy tilted his head and spoke first.

 

“Want one?”

 

The easy familiarity of his tone made I-hyeon frown, though he had no objection to the offer itself. With a slightly sulky expression, he obediently nodded. The boy gave a short laugh at that, searched his pocket and took out his cigarettes.

 

He drew one from the packet and offered it to I-hyeon. When their hands briefly brushed, I-hyeon found himself thinking that, contrary to his appearance, his hand was warm. He put the cigarette between his lips without a word, and the boy lit his lighter and held it to the tip.

 

I-hyeon exhaled a long stream of smoke as though releasing a breath he had been holding. The white smoke quickly dissolved into the blackness. He watched it without expression, then took another drag. At the practised movement, the boy gave a faint, peculiar smile.

 

“Second year of middle school? Third?”

 

I-hyeon looked up at the unexpected question. Sure enough, the boy standing before him had addressed him. He wanted to ignore the nonsense, but remembering the cigarette's kindness, he could not quite do it. Instead, he looked elsewhere and answered indifferently.

 

“I’m in upper secondary.”

 

Before he had even finished, the boy gave a breathy laugh. It was as though he had taken the answer for an obvious lie. I-hyeon was shorter than most boys his age, but surely he did not look that young. Even so, he felt no need to correct him and merely watched his cigarette burn. Bzzz, bzzz.

 

With nothing passing between them but the sounds of inhaling and exhaling, the vibration of the boy’s phone broke the silence. Perhaps he had clenched his jaw on seeing the caller, because the shadows across his lowered face shifted subtly.

 

“Hello. No, yes… Ha, if I get on the chairman’s bad side again, it’ll be my ribs this time. Yes. All right. I’ll be there soon. Come on, I said I know.”

 

The voice, with its languid hint of laughter, was cold. He listened to the person on the other end, then closed his eyes and clicked his tongue. Click, click, click…

 

After listening a little longer, he lowered the phone and flicked his cigarette to the ground. There seemed to be something emotional in the way he persistently ground the butt beneath his shoe. I-hyeon watched him silently. As the boy lowered his phone, their eyes met again. This time, the boy looked away first. After checking his watch, he turned.

 

“I’m heading off first, kid. It’s cold, so get yourself home.”

 

Despite the weather, he wore neither a padded jacket nor a coat, only a crumpled uniform blazer. He walked away without hesitation. I-hyeon had thought the blue uniform looked familiar; it was the same as the one he would be wearing at the new school he would attend in a few days.

 

The white marks across the back, which looked like shoe prints, stood out as he receded. I-hyeon watched him with the burning cigarette between his fingers, then suddenly remembered the ointment in his bag. Should I have offered it to him? The thought came too late. The boy had already left the park. Thinking that the spot where he had stood seemed particularly dark now, I-hyeon exhaled a long stream of smoke.

 

I-hyeon had thought the looks directed at a transfer student on his first day would be much the same wherever he went. Curiosity mixed with wariness, eyes assessing whether it was safe to approach this new outsider. The difference this time was that it was a boys’ school. In the eyes of the students sitting before him, there was a persistent effort to work out his place in the hierarchy rather than simple curiosity.

 

“All right, everyone. This is our new transfer student. His name’s Kwon I-hyeon, and he’s the son of the minister at Daemyeong Church up the hill, so make him welcome. I hear they’re about to put up a big new building there. You know why I’m mentioning it, don’t you? Don’t cause yourselves trouble by picking on a rich family’s son. Just get along.”

 

His form teacher’s unnecessary remarks helped ease their wariness, but I-hyeon did not welcome them at all. He was not ashamed of his father, but he would have preferred to keep him hidden if possible. Just as his father always did with him.

 

After I-hyeon sat down and the teacher left, glances began drifting towards him. Everyone seemed to be watching everyone else, but no one came over to immediately provoke him. He had heard that the school divided its classes by academic performance. Perhaps that explained why this class seemed free of the sort of group usually described as delinquents. It was a relief.

 

With only the occasional assessing glance coming his way, the bell rang to mark the end of the morning lessons. The boys who had already spent the last few minutes fidgeting, their legs sticking out from beneath their desks, rushed into the corridor like rabbits with their tails on fire. Lunchtime looks the same everywhere, I-hyeon thought as he tidied his desk. Then a shadow fell over him.

Puzzled, he looked up at the three boys who had approached. Their uniforms were neat, and their hair looked as though they had made an effort, though somewhat awkwardly. Exchanging glances, they cautiously addressed I-hyeon, who merely watched them without asking what they wanted.

 

“You said your name was Kwon I-hyeon, right?”

 

“…”

 

“Do you know where the dining hall is? Come with us. We’ll show you.”

 

A great many thoughts flashed through his mind. He did not particularly want to sit down to a meal with boys he had only just met, but as a transfer student, he ought to be grateful that they had approached him on his first day. 

 

When he silently nodded and stood, their faces brightened. Introducing themselves and casually asking what games he played and why he had transferred, they headed down the stairs.

 

The dining hall was in a separate building, a considerable walk from the main building along the side of the playing field. When they emerged after lunch, unseasonable snowflakes had begun falling from the sky, which had been overcast since morning. One of the boys heading back to the classroom with him complained.

 

“What? Why’s it suddenly snowing?”

 

“Seriously, snow in March? Come on, let’s get inside.”

 

They hurried along, frowning, but I-hyeon gazed blankly upwards. Sparse flakes drifted down across the whole expanse of sky. Without speaking, he held out his palm. He was well past the age of getting excited over snow, yet for some reason, the crystals melting instantly against his skin pleased him every time.

 

Watching the grains of snow begin to settle one by one on the red brick paving, he followed the others. Then one of the boys abruptly slowed. An uncomfortable expression appeared on his face as he looked towards the entrance to the main building. I-hyeon looked past him, wondering whether a teacher they disliked was standing there. But apart from a group of students just emerging from the building, there was nothing unusual.

 

He was about to look up at the boy beside him again when another passing student spoke in a flustered voice.

 

“Hey, it’s Gu Seung-hyuk sunbae. Hurry up.”

 

Gu Seung-hyuk? Apparently, the person they were avoiding was not a teacher but one of the students coming out. I-hyeon did not know what the problem was, but they must have had their reasons. Not wanting to become entangled in anything troublesome, he was about to follow them towards a side entrance when a low voice reached his ears.

 

“What’s this?”

 

Without meaning to, I-hyeon stopped. He turned towards the voice. And their eyes met.

 

“…”

 

The corner of the mouth, where a scab had formed overnight, lifted slightly. The boy stopped rubbing the back of his neck. I-hyeon clearly caught the moment interest entered those previously bored eyes. Their gazes held.

 

“So you really are in upper secondary?”

 

After watching the well-shaped lips curve into a gentle smile, I-hyeon slowly lowered his eyes. His gaze went somewhere it had never gone when they met in the dark corner of the park the previous night. The name badge embroidered in red on his chest read Gu Seung-hyuk. It was the colour assigned to the year below I-hyeon’s.

 

When his new friends asked how he knew Gu Seung-hyuk, all I-hyeon could say was that they had happened to run into each other before. The boys initially watched him with wary eyes, but as time passed and they confirmed there was no connection between them, they gradually settled down.

 

Apart from that unexpected episode on his first day, school life was uneventful. Other than the deeper voices around him and the number of boys who rushed outside at every break, it was not much different from his previous school. He sat a school mock exam and made a few friends he now greeted whenever they crossed paths.

 

Perhaps because the higher and lower final-year classes used different buildings, he had not even passed Chan-yang in the corridors. Chan-yang had not been attending the Sunday young people’s services either, though I-hyeon did not know whether something had happened. Relief came before concern. If possible, he hoped they could carry on never seeing each other.

 

One day, after checking the lunch menu and making do with something from the school shop, I-hyeon was walking around the grounds when he stopped outside the annexe where he had heard the library was located. There was no particular book he wanted to read, but he needed somewhere without people. Perhaps because he had studied late and slept only a few hours the previous night, noise and other outside stimuli were exhausting him easily.

 

It’s lunchtime. There probably won’t be anyone there… The annexe housed not only the library but also Chan-yang’s classroom. I-hyeon worried that if he went in, he might run into him. After a brief hesitation, he pulled open the glass door. Fortunately, the row of lower final-year classrooms was quiet, as though all were empty.

 

He climbed the stairs through the still, cool air and reached the library on the third floor. The moment he entered, he saw an “Away from desk” sign on the librarian’s counter. I-hyeon slowly closed the door. A quick glance told him the library was surprisingly large for the school's size. Yet there was no sign of anyone among the long rows of shelves.

 

After a moment’s consideration, he began walking towards the shelves at the far end. He knew where to find an even less frequented corner of an already deserted library. He passed the 000 section, with its magazines, newspapers and printer, then the 100 section marked “Philosophy”. A sign reading “200” appeared. Beside the number, in large letters, was the word “Religion”. I-hyeon stepped between the shelves.

 

The polished wooden bookcases were packed with volumes that looked as though they had never once been removed since the library opened. As he walked slowly past, familiar words he had heard since childhood quietly caught his eye. He took down one of the books and opened it at random. At the bottom of a pristine, glossy page was an illustration of Jesus kneeling to wash one of his disciples’ feet.

 

Carrying the book, I-hyeon went further into the shelves. Against the wall was a tall, narrow window with a sill deep enough for two people to sit on. Drawn towards it as though by a magnet, he carefully settled onto it. Soft spring sunlight stretched across the library floor. Countless dust motes moved in irregular paths like stars floating in the air.

 

A calm silence settled around him, so complete it seemed capable of swallowing time itself. He felt as though he might hear a sound every time he blinked. Of all the places he had discovered at school, this was his favourite. It was quiet and snug. The sunlight resting warmly on his skin felt pleasant.

 

Leaning back against the window frame, I-hyeon gazed absently out the window. As he slowly blinked, his eyes turned light brown by the sun; his thick lashes cast long shadows across the bridge of his nose. Gently stroking the smooth, coated paper with his fingertips, he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the glass. As he felt the chill of the flat surface and tried to settle the noise in his head, an unfamiliar sound reached him.

 

Soft, steady breathing. Of course. Someone else was bound to know about a place like this. He had thought it strange that there was nobody here. I-hyeon slowly opened his eyes and straightened. He did not even need to search for the source. A rustling sound came from beyond the bookcase.

 

Turning his head, he looked through the gaps between the books, scattered like missing teeth in a comb. On a large sofa beyond the shelves, someone lay stretched out, an arm covering his eyes. Only half his face was visible, but I-hyeon knew who it was. Perhaps it was the dark red scab at the right corner of his mouth, or perhaps the red name badge on the front of the uniform jacket that had slipped half off him. Gu Seung-hyuk.

 

A small sigh escaped I-hyeon before he could stop it.

 

“Ah…”

 

He had no reason to avoid him and had done nothing wrong, yet he felt inexplicably uneasy. Perhaps it was because someone had told him that Seung-hyuk was the son of the chairman of a vast gang-run business, and might already be working for the organisation himself. After watching him for a moment, I-hyeon deliberately turned his gaze back to the book open on his lap.

 

He must die, or justice must; unless another, willing and able, pays the price in his stead through stern atonement, a death in sacrifice. 

 

Faint laughter drifted through the window. The librarian’s desktop humidifier released steam with a regular hiss. The heater hummed, and each turn of a page made a soft rustling sound.

 

At some point, I-hyeon realised that instead of taking in the sentences on the page, he was concentrating on the sounds coming from beyond the shelves. He could not deny that the reason was the person sleeping barely two metres away with injuries all over his face.

 

Speak, heavenly powers: where can such love be found? Which of you will choose death to atone for humanity’s mortal sin, choosing righteousness to save the unrighteous? Where in this heaven does such precious love remain? 

 

After reading the passage once more, I-hyeon let out a short breath and closed the book. He looked at the light falling across the bare branches outside, then turned towards Seung-hyuk beyond the shelves.

 

The sunlight streamed in just as evenly over Seung-hyuk’s face. Perhaps it was his broad, solid frame, like an athlete’s. Even though they wore the same uniform and occupied the same place, he seemed incongruous. It was as though someone had torn a strip from an oil painting with bold, visible brushstrokes and carelessly pasted it onto a watercolour.

 

I-hyeon’s gaze travelled past the long legs, one half-bent, and the dishevelled uniform to his face. Sunlight must have been slipping through the gap beneath the arm covering his eyes, because a crease appeared across his smooth forehead. As the expressionless face tightened into a frown, a bright red bead of blood began forming over the cut at the corner of his mouth.

 

I-hyeon knew there was something strange about peering at him through the shelves, yet he could not look away. He knew it was rude to study someone sleeping like this, but his gaze kept returning. He was a stranger whose name and face were all I-hyeon knew. So why? Perhaps annoyed even in his sleep by the sunlight glaring down on him, Seung-hyuk let out an irritable breath, then went quiet. I-hyeon checked the time and sighed softly.

 

There was still a fair amount of lunchtime left, but he could hardly read any more, nor could he close his eyes and rest comfortably. Closing the book on his lap, he stood. After returning it to the shelf, I-hyeon started towards the library door, then hesitated and turned back. Fortunately, Seung-hyuk was still lying in the same position.

 

He considered it briefly, then headed towards the windows instead of the entrance. Approaching the long white curtains, he carefully took hold of an edge. Click. A soft swish. He drew the curtain across little by little to avoid making too much noise. The white fabric brightened as it covered the window. I-hyeon turned his head to check that a shadow had fallen over the floor, then immediately walked towards the library door.

 

Not once did his eyes stray, even accidentally, towards the figure on the sofa. He could not have said whether that was deliberate or merely a matter of chance.

 

A group of students was approaching as I-hyeon left the library and headed towards his classroom. Without thinking much of it, he was about to move aside.

 

“Kwon I-hyeon!”

 

When he turned towards the voice, the first thing he noticed was brightly dyed hair. It had been red when they last met at church, but apparently Chan-yang had bleached it again. Now it stuck up, yellow and untidy.

 

“Well, look who it is. It really is Kwon I-hyeon.”

 

“…”

 

“Have you been hiding in your classroom since you transferred? Why’s it so hard to get a look at you, huh?”

 

As Chan-yang greeted him with an arm slung familiarly around his shoulders, the other final-year students looked puzzled.

 

“What, Chan-yang hyung? You know him?”

 

“Yeah. He’s a little favourite of mine. He went to another school and transferred here recently.”

 

“Really?”

 

The boys who appeared to be Chan-yang’s friends did not look particularly ordinary either. Their uniforms were hanging open, and they stood with insolent slouches. Other students gave them sidelong looks as they edged past.

 

“I-hyeon, once you started here, you should have come to see your hyung first. Huh? It wouldn’t look right for me to come looking for you.”

 

The arm around him tightened as though in play, tipping his body sharply towards Chan-yang. When I-hyeon twisted his head to avoid his face, Chan-yang snickered.

 

“Ah, playing hard to get again. Hey, I need a quiet word with I-hyeon. Keep everyone else out, all right?”

 

Holding him almost in a headlock, Chan-yang dragged him into the toilets immediately beside them. His friends merely sniggered and muttered, “There he goes again.” Not one tried to stop him.

 

“I… have to go.”

 

“I know. All right. Just a minute.”

 

I-hyeon pushed against Chan-yang’s torso, trying to escape, but the solid arm did not loosen. Only once they were alone in the empty toilets was he released and able to stand upright. He backed away as Chan-yang advanced towards him.

 

“Have you been well, I-hyeon?”

 

“Hey, I haven’t been at church, and you haven’t heard from me, but you never even got in touch. Were you pleased not to see me?”

 

Retreating from Chan-yang’s crooked, dissatisfied smile, I-hyeon found cold tiles against his back. He bit his lip in dismay, and Chan-yang snorted. Like a lion playing with its prey, he looked down at I-hyeon as though the whole situation merely amused him. Lee Chan-yang always looked at him that way.

 

With those mean eyes that sought to confirm his own superiority by forcing I-hyeon into submission through violence.

 

“Still, it’s nice being at the same school. Getting to see you in places like this.”

 

The moment he finished speaking, his face moved close. Startled, I-hyeon quickly turned away, but Chan-yang caught his chin and forced his face back. Looking down at him irritably, he pressed his lips against I-hyeon’s.

 

“Mmph, mmph…!”

 

I-hyeon pushed hard at Chan-yang’s arm with his fists, but he did not budge. Only after I-hyeon began shoving almost like blows at his shoulders and chest did he pull back with a scowl.

 

“Wh-what are you doing, hyung? This is school…!”

 

“Exactly. Fucking good thing I repeated a year.”

His eyes gleaming strangely, he tilted his head and moved towards I-hyeon’s lips again. But I-hyeon quickly turned his face away and pushed him back.

 

“Stop…! What’s wrong with you?”

 

“What do you mean, stop? You must have fantasised about something like this too. You’re gay, so isn’t this even better for you? At a boys’ school. With the hyung you like. Hey, there’s a video title already.”

 

I-hyeon felt his face reddening with humiliation. He tried to twist free of the hands gripping his shoulders, only to have his back slammed into the wall. Biting hard into his lower lip, he glared at Chan-yang.

 

“I don’t want to do this with you here. Stop…”

 

Though it sounded like a plea, there was firmness in it. Chan-yang gave a disbelieving laugh, then approached with a scowl and jabbed a finger against I-hyeon’s chest.

 

“Hey, Kwon I-hyeon. Get a grip. I’m the only one willing to indulge you in this. Otherwise, what the fuck do you think anyone would call you except disgusting?”

 

“Shut up and just kiss me. As you said, we haven’t got time.”

 

As Chan-yang inclined his head to kiss him again, I-hyeon clenched his fists and shoved him hard enough for it to be almost a punch. This time, apparently irritated, Chan-yang struck him across the cheek, though not with full force.

 

“Ah, fuck… You always make me raise my hand.”

 

With his head knocked to the side, I-hyeon bit hard into his lower lip. His right cheek tingled. When he straightened and glared at Chan-yang, the older boy looked down at him with one eyebrow raised.

 

“What the fuck are you staring at?”

 

“You shouldn’t have let yourself get caught in the first place. You were the one who got a hard-on and started panting first, you little shit.”

 

When he was younger than he is now, there was a time when Chan-yang’s free-spirited, wilful ways had seemed grown-up. Perhaps, having been raised by a strict minister, I-hyeon had admired someone whose life was the opposite of his own.

 

As he followed Chan-yang around, calling him hyung, his world had gradually expanded in the opposite direction. Chan-yang, who had initially found him a nuisance, seemed to change his mind and began taking him along. He taught I-hyeon how to smoke and sometimes invited him to drink at an empty house.

 

Once everyone was tipsy and sprawled about, someone would sometimes connect a pornographic video to the television. Watching those videos, I-hyeon realised for the first time that he was different from the others. And when his eyes met Chan-yang’s, Chan-yang, wearing an expression subtly unlike everyone else’s, became the second person to realise it.

 

Things began changing after that. Chan-yang started using I-hyeon’s sexuality, which I-hyeon himself had barely understood, to manipulate him. What had begun as little more than errands to buy cigarettes had gathered momentum until it ended here. His justification was always the same. I’m not into it, but since you like it, I’ll do you a favour. Don’t want to? Then you won’t mind everyone else knowing you’re gay?

 

“Fuck. Lower your fucking eyes.”

 

“Forget it. From now on, when I text you, come running here to the annexe. Got it?”

 

“…”

 

“Not answering again?”

 

Chan-yang carelessly tapped I-hyeon’s chin with his forefinger. After staring up at him with defiance in his eyes, I-hyeon shoved his shoulder, almost as a blow, and hurried away. A derisive laugh came from behind him.

 

Wondering whether his still-burning cheek bore a mark, he glanced in the mirror, but it was the skin around his eyes that was red, not his cheek. He struggled to push open the door, whose handle rattled as though locked, and found Chan-yang’s friends looking down at him curiously.

 

“Pfft, hyung! What did you do in there to leave him looking like that?”

 

“Must’ve hit him. Look how red his cheeks and eyes are. He’s going to cry.”

 

I-hyeon tried to get past the boys surrounding him and sniggering at him, but Chan-yang’s friends kept playfully blocking his way. Other students passing by cast unpleasant looks towards what plainly resembled a group bullying one person. Yet no one stepped in to stop them. I-hyeon could not resent them; he would probably have walked past pretending not to see, too.

 

It was a teacher who happened to be coming down the corridor who finally got him out. Frowning, she broke up Chan-yang’s friends with the book in her hand and took I-hyeon by the arm, pulling him from their midst. Her gaze was cold.

 

“Aren’t you the transfer student in Class Three? What are you doing in the annexe? Are you friends with them?”

 

“…No. I just know them a little.”

 

“Don’t get close to them. They’re bad news.”

 

I-hyeon did not want to be close to them either. The problem was that Chan-yang, rather than I-hyeon, held the key to their relationship. He should never have gone to Chan-yang’s house that day. He should never have let him find out. No, it would have been better never to become involved with him in the first place.

 

Belated regrets passed through his mind once again, but he knew they were useless. Brushing a hand over his burning cheek, I-hyeon hurried towards his classroom.

 

“Kwon I-hyeon. Our form teacher wants to see you.”

 

I-hyeon, sitting upright and working through a revision book, took out his earphones at the sound of someone calling him. When he looked up, the class representative was watching him from the classroom doorway. He nodded to show he understood, then slowly stood. It was his second visit to the staff room since his first day at the school. As he approached his form teacher’s desk, the man looked up as though expecting him.

 

“Your grades and school records from your previous school are both reasonably good, but you’re a little short on volunteering hours. I know you’re busy in your final year, but things will get even more hectic once the summer holidays start. It would be best to get it sorted now.”

 

“…Yes.”

 

“As it happens, there’s a decent programme the school is organising. Interested? It’s a mentoring programme for students in the year below. Twice a week, starting next week and running until the end of term, so it’s not that long.”

 

“…”

 

“What do you think? Want to do it? Someone’s just dropped out, so there’s one mentor place left.”

 

Having been letting the consultation wash over him as it continued in an indifferent voice, I-hyeon looked up for the first time. His form teacher, typing with an expression as disinterested as his tone, printed a short information sheet and handed it to him. Application for School Mentoring Activities

 

I-hyeon slowly read the general explanation. He was concerned that it overlapped with preparation for the mid-term exams, but it counted for a substantial number of school volunteering hours. Once the holidays began, he would be even busier preparing for the university entrance exam, so his teacher had a point.

 

“…Do I need to find someone to mentor myself? I don’t know anyone in the year below.”

 

“The school handles the matching, and I expect that’s already finished. It starts next Monday, after all. As I said, you’re filling a place that’s opened up, so your mentee should already be decided. The teacher in charge has been away for a while, so it’s difficult to check right now. Do you absolutely need to know beforehand?”

 

His irritation was evident. Looking at his teacher’s indifferent expression, as though the whole thing were a nuisance, I-hyeon shook his head briefly. He did not know any younger students in particular, so hearing a name would mean nothing anyway. He simply wrote his own name on the spot and handed the form back. After giving I-hyeon’s name a cursory glance, his teacher took another sheet from a shelf.

 

“And this is the confirmation form for the after-school special class I mentioned. Get a parent to sign at the bottom. The study-room seating plan is posted by the door, so check that. You know where it is, don’t you?”

 

I-hyeon remembered agreeing to a scheme that provided individual after-school study spaces for students with the best mock-exam results. At the bottom of the form his teacher handed him was an empty signature box.

 

“…Is the signature essential?”

 

“The programme runs every evening after dinner, so we need parental confirmation. Any other questions?”

 

I-hyeon shook his head and pressed his dry lips together. It was ridiculous that something so trivial could make him tense the moment his parents were mentioned.

 

“Just bring the form back by tomorrow. Well, you haven’t had any particular problems settling in, have you?”

 

“…No.”

 

“Good. Off you go, then.”

 

I-hyeon bowed towards his teacher’s turned face and left the staffroom. He held only a single sheet of paper, yet it felt as though something heavy were pressing down on his shoulders and neck.

 

The form, tucked into the very back of his bag, came out again at the dinner table that evening. Throughout the meal, with only the occasional clatter of chopsticks and talk of the church’s new projects passing between them, I-hyeon kept his head down as he always did. He quietly ate as though he were not there, then took the form from his bag and gave it to his mother the moment his father finished eating and went upstairs.

 

“Mum, this is an application for special after-school study sessions. Could you sign it?”

 

“After-school study?”

 

“They give you a place in a shared study room so you can study until midnight. Sometimes there are special lectures too. My teacher said there’s nothing to pay. I just need a signature.”

 

His mother silently set down her chopsticks and accepted the paper. Contrary to his expectation that she would readily sign it, a crease began to form across her smooth forehead as her eyes travelled down the page. Watching her reaction, I-hyeon added:

 

“It’s normally only for the top thirty students in the year, and the places are always full. But they said they’d make an exception after seeing my mock-exam results.”

 

His mother’s expression did not change. If anything, she looked troubled. There was nothing unusual about it; he simply wanted to stay late and study in a study room. He could not understand her reaction.

 

“Does it have to be until midnight? And the study room is shared, rather than individual?”

 

“Will there be a teacher supervising the whole time?”

 

Unable to understand what her questions meant, I-hyeon merely looked at her. With an awkward smile, his mother held the form back out to him.

 

“I-hyeon, I think you’ll need to show this to your father first.”

 

“…”

 

“If you do this, you’ll be staying with the other boys until late at night.”

 

Ah. The small sound escaped his lips without strength. His eyes dropped of their own accord and fixed on a spot on the dining table. He could not face his mother’s expression. His previously steady heart suddenly began pounding.

 

It was shame. Only then did he understand the meaning of her questions. She was worried about her son spending time with other boys late at night. That was what her troubled expression had meant.

 

The answer was so unexpected that it felt as though someone had struck him across the back of the head. His lips moved as he tried to say something, but he could not bring himself to speak and closed them again. His mother looked apologetic as she watched him. But she did not say that she had made a mistake, or that she had expressed herself badly.

 

With his eyes lowered and his lips pressed together, I-hyeon picked up the form in front of him. The skin around his eyes felt strangely hot. He repeatedly opened and closed his mouth before speaking in a dwindling voice.

 

“…Then I’ll go and ask Father.”

 

“All right. If you explain it properly, he’ll say yes. Don’t worry too much.”

 

At the hand patting his shoulder in reassurance, misery suddenly swept over him. He almost felt more wretched now than he had when he first told his parents he thought he liked men and his father beat him with a golf club. Unable to control his expression, I-hyeon lowered his head and fled the kitchen.

 

As he climbed the stairs, his heart continued beating uneasily. His hands and feet grew cold, and a tightness gathered beneath his breastbone. The nearer he came to the upstairs study, the worse it became. Was this really necessary? He thought he could already guess what his father would say. Did he really have to ask? He could study at home…

 

While conflicting thoughts crowded his head, his feet carried him steadily upstairs and stopped outside his father’s study. Facing the firmly closed mahogany door, he felt his breath catch. For several minutes, he stood alone, doing nothing but biting his lip. Then he slowly raised his hand. He clenched his fist once in mid-air and knocked softly.

 

“Come in.”

 

Opening the door, he saw his father seated at a large desk. His father glanced at him, then returned his attention to the monitor. As I-hyeon stepped inside, the door clicked shut behind him. Neither spoke. Only the tapping of the keyboard filled the space between them.

 

“…”

 

His lips moved as he tried to begin, but he could not find an appropriate opening. Belatedly, he regretted not planning what to say before coming in. He pressed his parched lips together.

 

“What is it? Say what you have to say and leave.”

 

His father spoke first, asking coldly without looking away from the monitor. I-hyeon glanced at his father’s half-turned face, then set the paper he held on the corner of the desk.

 

“It’s a programme for students with high mock-exam results. My form teacher recommended it.”

 

“…”

 

“He said it’s a good study environment and there are special lectures, so I’d like to join… But they need a parent’s signature…”

 

There was no warmth in the brief glance his father gave him. He picked up the paper from the desk and began reading it slowly. Not knowing when those tightly closed lips would open, or what would come out of them, made I-hyeon’s mouth grow drier and drier. He followed the movement of his father’s eyes, worrying his dry lips between his teeth.

 

“…”

 

Having finished reading, his father removed his glasses and set them on the desk. Then he merely rubbed around his eyes without speaking. As a deep crease formed between his brows, the face that had looked kindly only moments before abruptly became stern. It was probably an expression the congregation, who knew only his gentle, warm face, had never seen.

 

“Kwon I-hyeon.”

 

“…Yes.”

 

“How is school?”

 

At the stiffly spoken question, I-hyeon could only move his lips. He did not think mentioning his good results in the recent school mock exam would improve his father’s expression.

“Put thirty boys in the prime of their lives together in one place and something is bound to happen. It won't be nearly as good an environment for studying as you think. I'll clear out a room on the second floor, so study there.”

 

“…Father.”

 

“If you were thinking of indulging in some pointless little friendship games, forget it. Concentrate on preparing for your university entrance exams. I sent you to that school because I thought it would be easier to get good grades there, so you'd better not waste your time.”

 

His tone was as cold as a north wind. I-hyeon's lips closed again. He had not brought it up hoping for praise, but the response was more heartless than he had expected, leaving his mouth painfully dry.

 

There had been something else he wanted to say, hadn't there? His mind went blank. His whole face seemed to burn. Lowering his head, I-hyeon bit hard on his bottom lip. He tasted blood.

 

The first people he had thought of when his teacher made the offer were his parents. If he explained that he had been selected on the strength of his mock-exam results, he had imagined that, even if they did not praise him, they might at least acknowledge his hard work.

 

“If you're that determined, go and ask your mother. I won't do it.”

 

His father dropped the form on the desk in front of him with a sharp tap. Then he put his glasses back on, turned to his monitor and resumed typing. I-hyeon remained standing there, staring at the dull grey paper lying before him. The skin around his eyes burned, and he squeezed them shut.

 

“What are you doing? Get out.”

 

Clenching his teeth, I-hyeon said goodbye, picked up the form and left the study. Only after the door closed behind him could he breathe again. He screwed his eyes shut to hold back the tears and clenched his fist so tightly that the innocent sheet of paper crumpled in his hand.

 

He should have told his teacher from the beginning that he wasn't interested in the special after-school study sessions. It wasn't as though he had wanted to do them that badly. Then he would never have had to go through this.

 

There was no point going downstairs to ask his mother again. She had never once gone against his father's wishes.

 

Instead of heading downstairs, I-hyeon turned towards his own room. The special study application was crushed mercilessly in his clenched fist. It didn't matter; he would never be handing it in.

 

He tightened his grip a little more instead of crying.

 

──── 📘📘 ────

 

There were moments when the scratch of a pencil and the faint whisper of someone's voice seemed unusually loud.

 

Apart from a few students who apparently knew one another, everyone in the classroom sat in silence, fiddling with their phones. I-hyeon stared at the two names written side by side on the blackboard.

 

[Kwon I-hyeon — Gu Seung-hyuk]

 

Being told to sit according to the names on the board could only mean they had been paired. It was hardly surprising that the students who knew who Gu Seung-hyuk was kept glancing in his direction.

 

Some looked bewildered, as though wondering whether this Gu Seung-hyuk really was the one they knew. Others looked at I-hyeon with pity. He kept his expression carefully blank and his eyes on the blackboard.

 

His teacher had said a mentor had dropped out unexpectedly, making a place available. Whoever it had been must have known in advance who their mentee would be.

 

The appointed time had arrived, but only two people were still missing: the person meant to sit beside him and the supervising teacher. Just as I-hyeon was about to check the time again, the front door clicked open, and the head of student affairs for the third-years walked in, dressed in a shabby golf shirt. The students nearest the front visibly straightened.

 

“Is this the room for the mentoring lot?”

 

The teacher spoke in a thick regional dialect, lightly tapping the desk with the heavy file he was carrying. He swept his eyes over the visibly nervous students, then stopped at the vacant seat beside I-hyeon and frowned.

 

“You're all sitting where the board says, right? Whose empty seat is that?”

 

Addressing I-hyeon, he tapped the blackboard with the long pointer.

 

“Lee Ji-hyuk… Park Gwang-hui… Gu… Seung-hyuk?”

 

The pointer, which had been travelling along the row of names, stopped beside Seung-hyuk's. The teacher screwed up his face and turned sharply towards I-hyeon.

 

“Gu Seung-hyuk? Gu Seung-hyuk from the second year? What's his name doing up there?”

 

He stared at I-hyeon in disbelief, but I-hyeon had nothing to tell him. He had no idea whether there was another second-year student named Gu Seung-hyuk, let alone whether this was the same one he knew.

 

When I-hyeon merely looked back without answering, the teacher's frown deepened. He tapped the back of his own neck with the pointer as though thinking, then turned again to check the name written beside Seung-hyuk's.

 

“Kwon I-hyeon? That's you, isn't it? Go and fetch Gu Seung-hyuk.”

 

“Ah…”

 

“He's probably round by the incinerator behind the annex. I don't know what on earth he was thinking, signing up for this. It's not as if there's another Gu Seung-hyuk. Just find him and bring him here first.”

 

It was the last thing I-hyeon wanted to hear. He already disliked having the whole classroom's attention on him. Being told to go all the way to the annex to look for Seung-hyuk only made his expression tighten further.

 

And if this was what the very first day was like, the remaining weeks were unlikely to be any better. It might be easier to do his volunteering separately during the holidays than put up with this sort of bother every time.

 

“…Yes, sir.”

 

He could hardly announce to everyone that he was quitting the programme. With a small sigh, I-hyeon rose from his seat.

 

He scraped his chair back under the desk and stepped into the corridor. Although spring was almost upon them, chilly air brushed across his face. A long sigh escaped his lips.

 

If he had known his mentee would be Gu Seung-hyuk, he would never have accepted his form teacher's proposal. Whenever he saw him, his throat went strangely dry, and he became tense.

 

According to the rumours, Gu Seung-hyuk was someone more frightening than anyone else, someone it was best never to get involved with. One person claimed to have seen him climb out of the back of a car while hulking men bowed to him at ninety degrees. Another said he had watched Seung-hyuk smack those same men across the backs of their heads and kick them.

 

I-hyeon had not witnessed any of it, so he could not tell how much was true. Yet the rumours did not seem entirely baseless. Every time he saw Seung-hyuk in the library, his face was covered in injuries, as though he had been exchanging blows with somebody.

 

Come to think of it, he'd been a mess the first time I-hyeon saw him, too. People like that supposedly carried knives.

 

He pictured Seung-hyuk in one of those gang fights from an old film: standing tall among men dressed in black, their clothes worn with a swagger. Somehow, even there, Seung-hyuk seemed as though he would stand apart from the rest, a strangely out-of-place figure.

 

Sighing over his useless thoughts and equally useless regrets, I-hyeon reached the incinerator behind the annex and stopped.

 

Contrary to what the teacher had said, there was not a single person in sight. All he could see was a fairly large building housing the caretaker's office.

 

Then again, if they had any sense, they would hardly be fooling around right in front of the caretaker's office. Where was he supposed to find Gu Seung-hyuk now? And if he simply went home, would the whole mentoring arrangement be called off?

 

He was about to turn away when a tremendous clatter came from inside the caretaker's building.

 

I-hyeon's eyes widened as he looked towards the source of the sound. He listened for something else, but the place had gone so quiet it was as though the earlier crash had never happened.

 

What if the caretaker, who was already quite elderly, had collapsed inside? After hesitating, I-hyeon bit his lip and approached the building.

 

The round silver handle was icy against his skin. He pulled hard, but the door would not open. The rattling of the lock only made him more anxious, and he began knocking rapidly on the metal door.

 

Knock, knock, knock.

 

“Is anyone in there? Hello? Are you all right?”

 

He knocked and called out urgently, but there was no response. Pressing closer to the door, he wondered whether he ought to ring the emergency services or fetch a teacher. Then, with a click, the metal door opened.

 

“For fuck's sake. I thought it was that nosy prick again.”

 

“Why? Who was it? The head of student affairs?”

 

The first things to greet him were an irritated face and a stream of angry swearing. Holding the door was a second-year boy wearing a red name badge. I-hyeon froze, eyes wide at the unexpected reception.

 

The boys regarded him with raised eyebrows, equally puzzled.

 

“What? Who are you—”

 

“Cough, cough…”

 

Someone nearby was coughing as though on the verge of death. I-hyeon followed the sound with his eyes. It came from the floor.

 

Beyond a group of boys with their shirt sleeves rolled up, as if they were hot, somebody lay face down, coughing. Shoeprints stood out clearly on the back of his navy blazer.

 

“Oi, someone's here. Shut up, you bastard.”

 

Thud.

 

One of the boys standing nearby kicked the person lying on the floor. The boy took the blow to his stomach and curled up like a prawn, coughing again. His exposed face was covered in blood, and the floor in front of him was already streaked red.

 

I-hyeon went rigid with shock.

 

What the hell was going on?

 

Without realising it, he took a step backwards. His heart began to pound. Sweat gathered in his palms, and the muscles in his legs tensed. A crawling shiver spread across his skin.

 

Anyone could see this was school bullying. There was far too much vivid red blood pooled on the floor to dismiss it as a simple quarrel between friends. I-hyeon looked over the four boys surrounding the victim and clenched his teeth.

 

“Oi… What do you lot think you're doing?”

 

“Who the fuck are you? Got some business here? If not, piss off. Unless you're planning to take his beating for him.”

 

The boy nearest the entrance glared at I-hyeon and raised his arm as if to strike him. I-hyeon did not even blink. He simply stared back.

 

The victim's coughing continued to scrape at his ears. Biting hard on his bottom lip, I-hyeon stepped inside the small caretaker's building.

 

He bent down immediately to help the fallen student up, drawing incredulous laughter from the others. He ignored them and concentrated on supporting the boy, whose body kept slipping from his grasp. The boy was larger than he was, and hung limply, apparently unable to hold himself up after losing consciousness.

 

“Ha! Oi, what's he playing at?”

 

Someone spoke through laughter, and a foot suddenly caught I-hyeon's leg. He tripped as he tried to stand and fell to the floor. His shirt was already stained with the other boy's blood.

 

Pushing himself up on one knee, I-hyeon glared at the person who had tripped him.

 

“What the hell are you lot trying to—!”

 

“Ah, what the fuck's all that noise?”

 

A low voice sounded from the side just as I-hyeon began to shout. Only then did he become aware of the bright, electronic blips that had been playing in the background all along.

 

He raised his head and slowly turned left, towards the part of the room he had not once looked at because his attention had been fixed on the floor.

 

The caretaker's office was larger inside than it had appeared from outside. In the roomier space at the back stood a large sofa and a small table. The sounds were coming from the phone of someone sprawled across the sofa, both legs propped on an armrest.

 

Holding his long phone horizontally in both hands, the person continued playing a game as though the commotion beside him had nothing whatsoever to do with him.

 

The cheerful sound effects were absurdly out of place. His loosely crossed feet tapped the air. I-hyeon looked at the person whose identity he could now recognise from his profile alone and opened his mouth.

 

“…Gu Seung-hyuk.”

 

“Hello. Fancy seeing you again.”

 

Seung-hyuk lifted his gaze briefly to meet I-hyeon's, gave a small laugh, then looked back at his phone. I-hyeon stood rooted to the spot, staring at him.

 

It was bewildering to see him lying there playing a game while something like this happened right beside him. More bewildering still was the way I-hyeon felt a sudden, sharp sense of relief at seeing a familiar face, even though nothing about the situation had changed.

 

When the other boys saw I-hyeon and Seung-hyuk greet one another, they began exchanging quick, furtive looks. At last one of them spoke.

 

“Seung-hyuk, you know him?”

 

Seung-hyuk did not answer. Only his fingers continued to move across his phone.

 

While the others looked at one another, trying to understand what was happening, the phone's cheerful beeping suddenly stopped. It was replaced by a tune that sank mournfully towards the end.

 

“Ah… You talked to me and got me fucking killed.”

 

Seung-hyuk, who had been tapping the screen with both thumbs, let the phone fall onto his stomach and tipped his head back. At his quiet mutter, the boys standing beside him flinched.

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

I-hyeon knew immediately that the question was meant for him. Watching Seung-hyuk sit up on the sofa, he answered without thinking.

 

“…I came because of the mentoring.”

 

“Ah. Mentoring.”

 

He repeated the word slowly, as though remembering something he had completely forgotten. I-hyeon was staring at him almost in a daze when a groan from the floor reminded him of the person lying there.

 

“Urgh…”

 

Seung-hyuk's gaze settled indifferently on the boy lying face down. Without so much as a frown, he spoke as casually as if it were an everyday sight.

 

“Oi. Make him shut up, will you?”

 

At his words, the boys standing around sniggered and nudged the victim with their feet.

 

“Oi, Seung-hyuk's talking to you.”

 

I-hyeon stared numbly at the pained groans escaping the boy's lips. Then Seung-hyuk spoke again. Without raising his head, I-hyeon kept his eyes on the boy sprawled on the floor.

 

“My form teacher was being such a pain about it that I just said yes.”

 

“You'll have to do it on your own.”

 

Watching him behave as though it were nothing while his friends beat somebody half to death made I-hyeon sick. Whether Seung-hyuk had ordered it or had merely watched without interfering did not matter.

 

All the curiosity I-hyeon had developed while watching him in the library seemed to evaporate. The rumours were true. He really was someone I-hyeon ought to stay away from.

 

“…That's good, then.”

 

“…”

 

“Because I don't want to teach a piece of shit like you, either.”

 

I-hyeon raised his head to look at Seung-hyuk and spoke briefly. His voice was not loud, but everyone appeared to have heard him. A chill fell over the room. Only Seung-hyuk seemed amused, quirking an eyebrow and lifting one corner of his mouth.

 

I-hyeon turned away from him without regret and helped the boy on the floor to his feet. This time, nobody tried to stop him.

 

With the boy's arm hooked around his shoulders, he glanced behind him once before leaving the caretaker's office. Seung-hyuk merely stared expressionlessly at the bloodstains on the floor, clicking his tongue.

 

“Just hang on a little longer. I'll take you to the nurse's office.”

 

I-hyeon spoke quietly to the groaning second-year boy leaning against him, then started walking.

 

Back in the caretaker's office, an uneasy atmosphere had settled over the boys who had been left behind. They exchanged glances, waiting for someone to speak. When one finally began asking who the fuck that guy was, another said boldly:

 

“Oi, bring that rude little bastard back here.”

 

The answer came from Seung-hyuk, slouched crookedly on the sofa.

 

“Leave him.”

 

“What?”

 

“You heard me, you prick. Don't make me say it twice.”

 

Nobody dared argue with him as he got to his feet. Seung-hyuk looked around the caretaker's office, then took a packet of cigarettes from his back pocket and nodded towards one of the boys.

 

“Oi. What was your name again?”

 

“…Kim Jin-hwan.”

 

Jin-hwan looked as though he could not believe Seung-hyuk did not know his name, but evidently decided it was best to answer quietly. Seung-hyuk gave a short laugh, slung an arm around his shoulders and put a cigarette between his lips.

 

“Right, Jin-hwan. Get the lads to clean everything up properly before you leave. I can't stand the smell of blood.”

 

“Seung-hyuk, you're leaving first?” someone asked.

 

Seung-hyuk rolled his neck as though trying to ease the stiffness. His whole body was aching from the beating he had taken the previous evening. In the midst of it, he remembered the unwavering look I-hyeon had given him and let out an involuntary, breathless laugh.

 

“Yeah. Looks like rain.”

 

When he opened the caretaker's office door, the sky was thick with dark clouds. He searched for I-hyeon and the nameless boy who had gone ahead, but neither was in sight.

 

Rather than follow them, Seung-hyuk walked around behind the office. With a flick, a flame sprang to life, wavering silently in the shelter of his palm.

Tap. Patter, patter. Tap.

 

It was not yet five o'clock, but the sky had grown dark. Hearing something tapping against the window, I-hyeon turned his head and saw rain streaming down the glass.

 

He usually kept an umbrella in his locker, but not today. He had taken it home the last time it rained and forgotten to bring it back. Just in case, he checked the umbrella stand at the back of the classroom. Unsurprisingly, it was empty; the quicker students must have already taken everything.

 

Any hope that the rain might stop by the time school ended was shattered as the final announcements finished and his classmates began leaving one by one. If anything, the rain was falling harder, as heavily as it did during the summer monsoon.

 

I-hyeon stood at the entrance to the building and gazed outside. The damp, chilly air brushed past his nose. The sound of the rain seemed to swallow every other noise. Everything around him was dim, and endless circles spread across the puddles on the ground.

 

He took out his phone for no particular reason, even though he knew there was nobody he could contact and ask to bring him an umbrella. He scrolled through his contacts, then slipped the phone back into his pocket.

 

There was a convenience store one block beyond the back gate. The trouble was that he would be drenched through before he even reached it.

 

This did not look like rain that would stop in an hour or two. He had no other choice. Holding his palm above his forehead to shield his face as best he could, I-hyeon ran out into the rain.

 

He could feel the water soaking through his clothes, running down the back of his neck and into his hair. Each puddle he kicked through left the bottoms of his trousers sodden. At least he had thought to leave his schoolbag in the classroom, just in case. It would certainly have been soaked right through otherwise.

 

His hurried steps were gradually slowing into resignation when somebody shouted behind him.

 

“Oi, cigarette!”

 

Somebody must have been caught smoking in this weather. It had nothing to do with him.

 

“Oi! Oi, you! Third year!”

 

I-hyeon frowned faintly. He had waited so long for the rain to ease that there was nobody else on the route home. Surely the voice could not be calling him? He turned his head.

 

The shout had come from beneath a large zelkova tree. A boy was standing there with a phone to his ear. I-hyeon glanced around to check whether he was the one being called, and the boy began striding towards him. Only when he had drawn a little closer could I-hyeon make out his face.

 

It was Gu Seung-hyuk.

 

“What are you doing, looking so bloody miserable in this weather? What are you, a beggar? No cigarettes and no umbrella?”

 

And yet Seung-hyuk himself was holding a crooked floral umbrella that looked as though he had picked it up somewhere. Raindrops pattered against the umbrella he tilted over I-hyeon. With the drops no longer stinging his skin, I-hyeon became aware again of how cold he was.

 

He narrowed his eyes and said, “Don't talk to me.”

 

“Wow. Listen to that attitude.”

 

Seung-hyuk gave a short laugh, but I-hyeon answered by stepping straight back into the rain. His pace towards the school gate was faster than before. They were not close enough to stand face to face having a conversation, nor did he want one. All he wanted was to get home and take a hot shower.

 

By now even his underwear was soaked. There seemed little point in buying an umbrella, so he was about to walk straight past the convenience store when he sensed somebody behind him. A small umbrella appeared over his head again.

 

“For such a little fucking runt, you walk bloody fast.”

 

“…”

 

“Ah, all right. I won't talk to you. Happy?”

 

I-hyeon had only stared because he could not understand why Seung-hyuk was holding an umbrella over him. Seung-hyuk, however, seemed to take the look for a cold glare. He raised a hand readily, as though making a concession.

 

“You're going as far as the park, aren't you? Come on, then. Let's go.”

 

He even jerked his chin at I-hyeon, who was still standing motionless. There was no reason for them to share an umbrella, but it seemed equally strange to refuse when they were going the same way. I-hyeon briefly pressed his bottom lip between his teeth, then fell into step beside him.

 

He kept about a hand's breadth between them, worried that his soaking clothes might brush against Seung-hyuk. Simply walking beside someone under the same umbrella felt unfamiliar. He found himself conscious of his faint breath misting in the cold air and wondered whether Seung-hyuk could hear it through the rain.

 

After a while, I-hyeon stole a glance at his face. Seung-hyuk was simply walking along, chewing gum with a series of little smacks, apparently without a thought in the world. At this distance, his high, straight nose and clean jaw, without so much as a trace of stubble, were even more noticeable. I-hyeon swallowed and looked away.

 

“Thanks.”

 

He could not understand the kindness, but he was grateful for it all the same. He could do nothing about the clothes he had already soaked. Yet simply being spared the raindrops striking his face made things far more bearable.

 

As I-hyeon pushed his wet hair back with one hand, Seung-hyuk's gaze rested on him for a moment.

 

They walked for a while with only the sound of their footsteps between them. Then a phone rang. They had nearly reached I-hyeon's neighbourhood. He was about to say that he would be going when Seung-hyuk pulled out his phone and raised it to his ear.

 

“Hello.”

 

I-hyeon lowered his gaze, deciding to wait until the call ended. The white shirt beneath his school jacket was wet and clinging tightly to his chest.

 

“Yes. No. Yes… No, I'll come.”

 

The call consisted of little more than short answers, but Seung-hyuk's expression grew colder as it went on. He hung up with an irritated frown, rubbed the back of his neck and held out the umbrella.

 

“Oi. Take this.”

 

“What?”

 

Rather than answer, Seung-hyuk caught I-hyeon's hand and closed it around the umbrella handle he had been holding. Before I-hyeon could stop him, he stepped out into the rain. Startled by the sudden turn of events, I-hyeon hurried towards him and caught his arm.

 

“…Oi, where are you going?”

 

In those few moments, Seung-hyuk's damp hair had begun sticking to his forehead. He swept it back with one hand and raised an eyebrow.

 

“I've got somewhere I need to go. You take that and get home.”

 

“…Why would I take it? It's yours. You use it.”

 

“I was going to throw it away anyway. The flowers look fucking stupid.”

 

Lost for words, I-hyeon gripped the handle tightly. Seung-hyuk glanced him up and down, then turned away and ran back into the rain.

 

I-hyeon stood watching his retreating figure. The space beneath the umbrella, suddenly roomy again, already felt strangely empty. Shivering at the cold that crept over him, he slowly turned around.

 

It felt as though something exactly the weight of the umbrella had settled upon his heart.

 

──── 📘📘 ────

 

Throughout the next few days of persistent spring rain, I-hyeon carried the half-broken floral umbrella. He wandered around the school grounds for no real reason, hoping to run into Seung-hyuk and return it, but no such chance encounter occurred.

 

The weather was particularly unpredictable that day. The drizzle that had begun in the morning suddenly turned into heavy rain, like a tropical squall. After pouring down all afternoon like a midsummer shower, it had temporarily eased, leaving the air even cleaner and colder.

 

Although it was only eight o'clock, the streets were dark as midnight, lit by shopfronts and streetlamps. Fine streaks of rain shimmered like static above the roads, which had turned black with water.

 

It was Wednesday, the day his father usually returned home early, but the continuing rain meant I-hyeon could not go to the park. After thinking it over, he headed for the large convenience store on the main road instead.

 

He bought a cup of instant noodles and a triangular rice ball, then sat at the counter along the window. Drops of water gathered on the glass and ran down it in long streaks.

 

From his seat he could see the whole junction directly outside the shop. Car headlights blurred against the wet window, flashing orange, white and yellow. I-hyeon watched them absently while he waited for his noodles to soften.

 

Ding.

 

A cheerful chime sounded from the nearby microwave, signalling it had finished. I-hyeon was about to get up when something outside caught his eye, making him stop.

 

At the far end of the pedestrian crossing, an elderly man was struggling to push a handcart piled precariously high with waste paper.

 

The cardboard boxes, which had not been tied down properly, wobbled whenever he took a step. Worse, the boxes at the bottom were soaked through from the rain, making the whole stack look even more unstable.

 

I-hyeon was wondering whether he should buy the man an umbrella when the handcart turned the corner, and the boxes came tumbling onto the road.

 

The old man looked flustered. Perhaps it was because the green crossing light had begun flashing, or because passers-by were frowning and casting him impatient glances.

 

As he tried to gather the scattered boxes, the light changed from green to red. The waiting cars began sounding their horns in sharp, angry bursts.

 

People merely looked at the old man before continuing on their way. Nobody readily stepped in to help. I-hyeon decided that, since it was not far, he should at least go over himself. He was about to push his noodles into a corner of the counter when a tall figure suddenly appeared behind the handcart and began lifting the boxes back onto it.

 

Despite the rain, the man had no umbrella, only a hood pulled over his head. A small red ember moved through the air as he gathered the boxes, apparently smoking a cigarette as casually as ever.

 

When a car behind him sounded its horn impatiently, he waved a hand without even looking back. The waiting driver swerved sharply into the next lane and sped away, but the man seemed wholly uninterested.

 

He was tall and strongly built, and he moved quickly. Before long, the boxes scattered across the road had all been stacked up again. I-hyeon, who had half-risen from his seat, sat back down awkwardly.

 

Once the man had made sure everything was more or less in order, he crossed the road without so much as a farewell to the old man. I-hyeon watched his face as he approached the convenience store.

 

When he came close enough for light from the shops to fall across his slightly damp face beneath the hood, I-hyeon's eyes widened without warning.

 

He recognised him.

 

Jingle.

 

“Two packs of Marlboro Reds, please.”

 

He pushed back his hood and shook the water from his hair rather roughly. His gaze swept dryly around the shop before settling on I-hyeon, who sat at the counter directly beside him, looking up at him.

 

One well-shaped eyebrow rose at an angle. Then he looked away.

 

They were not exactly close enough to exchange greetings, but it would have been strange to ignore each other altogether. Besides, I-hyeon was still surprised to discover that the person who had helped the old man was Gu Seung-hyuk.

 

Jingle.

 

While I-hyeon continued staring silently at Seung-hyuk, the bell rang again, and the door opened. The person entering was the elderly man who had been across the road moments earlier, collecting cardboard.

 

“Young man! I've been calling after you for ages. Why wouldn't you answer?”

 

“…”

 

“I haven't got anything else to give you, but… at least take these, will you?”

 

The old man held out two small bottles of yoghurt drink. Seung-hyuk looked down at them and shook his head, saying there was no need, but the man insisted on pressing them into his hand. Then he hurried back out into the rain.

 

Having unexpectedly ended up with yoghurt drinks he did not even like, Seung-hyuk frowned as though it were a nuisance. Then he turned his head towards I-hyeon.

 

I-hyeon was still looking up at him in exactly the same position.

 

Under that unwavering gaze, Seung-hyuk somehow felt as though an embarrassing secret had been exposed. It was not as if he had done anything shameful, but he suddenly felt awkward. He placed the yoghurt drinks on the counter in front of I-hyeon.

 

“You have them.”

 

I-hyeon did not reply. He simply continued looking at Seung-hyuk's face.

 

“What are you staring at?” Seung-hyuk asked indifferently, then pushed open the convenience store door and went outside. The back of his hood and the shoulders of his jacket gradually darkened with rain.

 

Watching him leave, I-hyeon suddenly noticed the transparent plastic umbrellas for sale. Before he even realised what he was doing, he bought one and hurried out of the shop.

 

With his long legs and quick stride, Seung-hyuk was already a considerable distance away. I-hyeon hurried after him and raised the umbrella over his head.

 

“…”

 

Seung-hyuk stopped and turned. He looked down at I-hyeon with a blank expression, as though asking what he wanted. I-hyeon spoke before he could think better of it.

 

“This one hasn't got flowers on it.”

 

“…”

 

“Take it.”

 

One corner of Seung-hyuk's tightly closed mouth slowly curved upwards.

 

Looking at the plain transparent umbrella and the pale, slight nineteen-year-old boy standing beneath it, Seung-hyuk let out a quiet laugh.

The mentoring sessions were scheduled twice a week, on Tuesday and Thursday evenings. Only the first day's orientation had taken place in a designated classroom, with everyone gathered. After that, the pairs were free to meet wherever they liked.

 

Most people stayed in their classrooms after school, so I-hyeon sat alone in his empty classroom.

 

He had gone to see the third-year head of student affairs after the first session and asked to withdraw from the mentoring programme, but had been told it would be difficult when the scheme had only just begun.

 

The teacher had suggested that he somehow coax Gu Seung-hyuk into participating, though he himself seemed to think it impossible. In the end, he advised I-hyeon to use the time for independent study if he could not do anything else. He only needed to complete the required hours.

 

As a result, I-hyeon found himself studying alone at school after classes and decided the arrangement was actually rather convenient. With his earphones in, his pencil moved smoothly as he worked through equations in his exercise book.

 

He had stopped to puzzle over a particularly stubborn problem when a large shadow fell across the page. Thinking someone might have come back for something they had left behind, he looked up.

 

“Kwon I-hyeon.”

 

Before he could even make out the face, a large hand reached over and easily pulled an earphone from his ear.

 

The voice was deeper and huskier than those of most boys their age. A brief shiver travelled along I-hyeon's arm. He could only stare up at the unexpected visitor in speechless surprise, and Seung-hyuk gave a short laugh.

 

“That's the first time I've called you by your name.”

 

With a smile that seemed strangely out of character, Seung-hyuk pulled a chair over from the desk in front and sat opposite him. He tossed a question at I-hyeon, who was still staring.

 

“What?”

 

He had assumed Seung-hyuk would never come, so his mind had gone completely blank at the sight of him. Questions crowded his head. Why had he come? How had he known where to find him?

 

After moving his lips a few times, I-hyeon slowly managed to ask one of them.

 

“How did you know I was here?”

 

“They said most people do it in their classrooms. So I went round looking, starting with Class One.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Who knows?”

 

Seung-hyuk shrugged, the corner of his mouth lifting into a grin.

 

“Thought I'd try to stop being such a piece of shit.”

 

I-hyeon had called him that not because of the mentoring, but because he had stood by without intervening while someone was being beaten. Yet it did not seem like the right moment to point that out, so he kept quiet.

 

“So what do I do now?”

 

The question came from Seung-hyuk with complete confidence. Over his face, I-hyeon saw the wet road from the previous night. He wondered whether to speak coldly, as he had in the caretaker's office, or to sit there, looking foolishly at him, as he had in the convenience store. In the end, he chose the most ordinary answer.

 

“…Have you brought any books?”

 

Seung-hyuk laughed softly and pulled something out of his bag. What he placed on the desk was not an exercise book or any materials for the session. It was a school textbook, so clean and uncreased that it looked as though it had never been opened.

 

“Is that all?”

 

“Do I need more?”

 

If anything, Seung-hyuk seemed perfectly self-assured. He put his nearly empty-looking bag on the classroom floor and leant back in his chair, watching I-hyeon intently. I-hyeon looked from him to the textbook and ran the tip of his tongue over his dry lips.

 

“Then get a pen out first.”

 

“Haven't got one.”

 

“What?”

 

“Lend me one.”

 

Seung-hyuk curved his eyes into an unusually innocent smile as he helped himself to a mechanical pencil from I-hyeon's pencil case. It was the first time I-hyeon had seen him smile like that, and his lips parted slightly. He swallowed and lowered his gaze to the hand clicking the pencil, then opened the textbook.

 

“…Don't be late next time.”

 

It felt as though someone had thrown a stone into the calm surface of his heart, sending ripples through it. Thump, thump. Ignoring the unfamiliar beat of his pulse, he murmured the words into the empty classroom.

 

Contrary to his prediction that Seung-hyuk would turn up once, out of curiosity, and never return, he continued to attend the after-school mentoring sessions faithfully.

 

Around the time I-hyeon began to think that Seung-hyuk might not be quite the hopeless delinquent the rumours made him out to be, he started exchanging brief greetings whenever they passed each other at school. If I-hyeon spotted him and dipped his head, Seung-hyuk would answer with his usual short laugh.

 

Even so, they had not exchanged phone numbers. In the evenings, when dim light settled beyond the classroom windows, their conversations consisted entirely of explanations of maths problems. The distance between them was exactly that: close enough not to feel uncomfortable.

 

Today, though, Gu Seung-hyuk still had not appeared, even though their usual meeting time had long since passed. After staring for ages at a maths problem he could not solve, I-hyeon put down his mechanical pencil and looked up at the clock above the blackboard.

 

7.45 p.m.

 

It was well past seven, when they normally began their sessions. The pattering of raindrops caught I-hyeon's attention. He turned to see the spring rain, which had continued for days, tapping at the window. The dark glass reflected the deserted classroom like a mirror.

 

There was something oddly lonely about the sight of himself sitting alone in such a big room. It seemed a little ridiculous, too, to be stubbornly waiting when Gu Seung-hyuk was clearly not going to come.

 

I-hyeon looked from the page that had held him up for so long to the rain outside, swallowed a sigh and closed his book.

 

Somewhere along the way, he had apparently started looking forward to this time every week without realising it. He knew Seung-hyuk could not get in touch, since they had never exchanged numbers, yet he could not stop looking at his own phone.

 

After one more glance at the rain trickling down the window, I-hyeon packed his books and pencil case into his bag and stood. Almost at that very moment, the classroom's front door opened with a clatter.

 

“Ah…”

 

The meaningless sound escaped his lips when he saw Gu Seung-hyuk's badly battered face.

 

Seung-hyuk was breathing hard, as though he had run all the way there. Seeing that I-hyeon was still in his seat, he hurried over and bent forwards with his hands on his knees. His back rose and fell as he caught his breath, his clothes damp with rain.

 

“Phew… You're still here.”

 

He raised his head and grinned.

 

His wet hair clung to his forehead in strands, and droplets ran down his smooth face. Blood had dried along a long cut, while a split at the corner of his mouth was still seeping fresh red. I-hyeon stared up at his strangely unreal-looking face and spoke without meaning to.

 

“Your face is a mess every single day.”

 

He ought to have asked whom Seung-hyuk had been fighting this time, and where, to make him so late. For some reason, he could not get the words out. He could only stare at the damage to Seung-hyuk's face.

 

Having apparently caught his breath, Seung-hyuk straightened and ruffled his wet hair. From his greater height, he looked down at I-hyeon.

 

“Kwon I-hyeon. I can't go home right now. Let me come to yours and change my clothes.”

 

He managed to sound demanding and shameless even while asking a favour. Nevertheless, I-hyeon could not bring himself to refuse. He let out a short sigh and picked up his bag.

 

──── 📘📘 ────

 

It was not normally a time when his father would be home, but there was always the possibility. Had he made a mistake bringing Gu Seung-hyuk with him? In the few steps across the front garden to the door, all sorts of thoughts crossed I-hyeon's mind.

 

Unfortunately, as soon as he opened the front door, he saw a pair of black dress shoes in the hallway. His father was home. His heartbeat quickened with tension. It would be all right; his father would be upstairs. The haste showed in I-hyeon's fingers as he beckoned Seung-hyuk inside.

 

Whether Seung-hyuk understood his anxiety or not, he seemed perfectly relaxed. He was following a few paces behind, the practically empty bag slung over his shoulder. Perhaps the cuts on his face stung, because he raised an arm and carelessly rubbed at them. Seung-hyuk was the one who was injured, yet I-hyeon was the one growing increasingly frantic.

 

“It's the room at the end. Hurry up and go in.”

 

“Who's chasing you?”

 

I-hyeon could have explained to his mother that a friend had been hurt and needed to stop by for a moment. His father was another matter. He had an unfounded but firm conviction that his father would disapprove of him bringing a male friend into his bedroom.

 

Just as he had once hidden a chick he had secretly brought home as a child, I-hyeon bundled Seung-hyuk into the room and locked the door. Only then did he feel relieved.

 

He put down his bag and hung his coat on a hanger. Seung-hyuk, apparently not cold at all in his thin jacket, was looking around I-hyeon's bedroom.

 

“…Have a wash first.”

 

“Nice house.”

 

Ignoring the hand holding out a towel, Seung-hyuk began inspecting the room. He wandered about leisurely, trailing a straightened forefinger over the furniture. When he reached the family photograph on one of the bookshelves, I-hyeon tugged at his jacket and offered the towel again.

 

“Hurry up and wash.”

 

Seung-hyuk gave him a short laugh, then took the towel and his bag into the bathroom.

 

With such a large person out of sight, I-hyeon's bedroom finally felt like his own again. Water began running in the en-suite bathroom. It felt strange; nobody else had ever used it before.

 

A little later, Seung-hyuk emerged wearing nothing but his trousers. I-hyeon had been sitting at his desk working through problems and turned his head without thinking. At the sight, he started, widening his eyes.

 

Mottled bruises covered Seung-hyuk's lean, firmly muscled body. There were scars here and there that looked as though the skin had been split open and healed again, as well as several red, scabbed patches that appeared to be the result of blows. I-hyeon looked at him in alarm, but Seung-hyuk was utterly unconcerned.

 

“Oi, got a big T-shirt you don't wear? Don't think yours will fit me.”

 

He rubbed his hair with the towel as naturally as if he were at home. I-hyeon sprang up, found the largest shirt in his wardrobe and handed it over. When he could not bring himself to meet Seung-hyuk's eyes, Seung-hyuk gave a disbelieving laugh.

 

“What the fuck are you getting embarrassed for?”

 

The T-shirt was a little tight, but it did not look ridiculous on him at all. Seung-hyuk settled on the floor beside the bed, took out his phone and began playing one of his beeping games.

 

“I'll impose on you till the rain stops.”

 

For someone asking to impose, he sounded remarkably confident. I-hyeon turned back towards his desk and scribbled meaningless numbers into his exercise book.

 

He could not concentrate with the phone's repeated noises behind him. In truth, he was even more distracted by the occasional irritated sound Seung-hyuk made when the cut on his lip seemed to sting.

 

The first-aid box was probably in the utility room upstairs. But if he went up to fetch it and happened to meet his father, he would be in trouble.

 

Instead, he opened his desk drawer. He hardly expected to find ointment he never normally used, but among the neatly arranged stationery he discovered a pink plaster decorated with a cute cartoon character.

 

“…”

 

He took it out because it was there, then hesitated. If Gu Seung-hyuk saw it, he would be lucky if the boy did not laugh in his face. After thinking for a moment, I-hyeon decided that at least he was offering something, and took the plaster in his hand.

 

He silently approached Seung-hyuk and held it out. Recognising the pink cartoon plaster in its transparent wrapper, Seung-hyuk looked up at him with an incredulous laugh.

 

“What's that?”

 

I-hyeon answered with a straight face.

 

“Your lip. It's split.”

 

“So? You want me to walk around with that stuck to it?”

 

“Forget it if you don't want it.”

 

As I-hyeon started to pull his hand back, Seung-hyuk caught his wrist lightly.

 

“What's the point of offering it if you're going to take it away?”

 

He took the plaster, used his phone as a mirror and stuck it rather clumsily beside his mouth. Against his relatively dark complexion, the bright pink plaster looked so out of place that it was comical.

 

“Your parents aren't home in a house this big?”

 

“Mum's probably out, and Dad's… upstairs.”

 

I-hyeon had returned to his desk and answered the question quietly over his shoulder. Apparently Seung-hyuk had only asked in passing, because no further questions followed.

 

I-hyeon turned his attention to the exercise book spread across his desk, but he could not concentrate at all. He gave up on maths and took out his English workbook instead. Just as he was about to put his earphones in, Seung-hyuk spoke from behind him.

 

“Oi.”

 

“…”

 

“Do today's lesson now. We've still got time.”

 

The clock showed it was about half an hour before they normally finished mentoring. Seung-hyuk was not wrong, but these were not words I-hyeon had expected to hear from him. He rubbed the back of his neck.

 

“…All right.”

 

There was not enough room for both of them to sit side by side at the desk, so I-hyeon took out a broad, low folding table and set it up on the floor. Seung-hyuk's knees seemed to touch it, but he did not appear to mind.

 

I-hyeon glanced at Seung-hyuk, who was doing nothing but watching his every move, then took out the textbook and notebook and sat opposite him.

 

“If we combine conditions A and B, we get this value here, right? And because the sum of these two is three… Gu Seung-hyuk?”

 

When they started solving problems beyond the material covered in the previous session, Seung-hyuk at least appeared to be looking at the book, albeit with little interest. Now he had his arms folded and his eyes shut.

 

Was he actually asleep? Finding it ridiculous, I-hyeon called his name. The answer came immediately, in his usual voice, without a trace of sleepiness.

 

“Yeah. What?”

 

He was the one who had insisted they use the remaining time for a lesson, and yet here he was brazenly trying to sleep. I-hyeon could scarcely believe it. Even when he must have felt I-hyeon's silent glare, Seung-hyuk kept his eyes closed without a care.

 

I-hyeon pressed his bottom lip between his teeth, then opened his own exercise book instead of scolding him. He had no intention of demanding that someone who looked so battered concentrate for the few minutes they had left.

 

His pencil scratched over the page as he eliminated the conditions one by one to find the answer. Suddenly Seung-hyuk spoke again from across the table.

 

“What are you doing? Aren't you going to carry on?”

 

“You're not going to listen anyway, so what's the point of explaining it to myself? I didn't think we'd be able to have a proper session today. Just close your eyes for a bit. I'll tell you when it's over.”

 

His voice was not cold, but it was not exactly warm either. Seung-hyuk clicked his tongue quietly. I-hyeon gazed at his face with his closed eyes.

 

The deep folds of his eyelids and the straight bridge of his nose gave him features as striking as those of a television actor. It was hardly an appropriate thought for the situation, but I-hyeon found himself admiring his looks all over again.

 

He had been staring for some time when Seung-hyuk's lips parted. I-hyeon hurriedly lowered his eyes to the book.

 

“Just pretend somebody's sitting here listening and keep going.”

 

“I was up all night. I think I might actually be able to sleep if I listen to you explaining maths. Do me a favour.”

 

Seung-hyuk gave a small, breathy laugh, then muttered quietly:

 

“Fuck. Doesn't matter which way I lie, everything hurts too much to sleep.”

 

It sounded absurd, but I-hyeon could not stop picturing the injuries he had seen on Seung-hyuk's body. The bruise on his temple, now even more conspicuous, kept drawing his gaze.

 

Pressing his bottom lip between his teeth, he checked the time. They had about thirty minutes left.

 

“Then just have a nap.”

 

“Ha! What?”

 

“You can use my bed. Lie down and get some sleep.”

 

Seung-hyuk opened his eyes and looked at I-hyeon, taken aback by the unexpected answer. I-hyeon met his gaze with the same expressionless face as always.

 

Seung-hyuk let out an incredulous laugh, then crooked a finger at I-hyeon, who was gazing blankly back. As I-hyeon leaned closer, Seung-hyuk flicked him sharply on the forehead.

 

“I've heard some funny things in my time. Why the hell would I sleep in somebody else's bed? It's not as if it's a girl's bed.”

 

Does he even remember I'm a year older than him?

 

I-hyeon narrowed his eyes and glared, but Seung-hyuk merely sniggered as though he found the expression amusing. Then his phone vibrated. He checked it and closed the textbook on the table.

 

“I've got to go.”

 

Thinking about it, perhaps Seung-hyuk had only mentioned mentoring because he needed something to fill the awkward time before he had to leave. I-hyeon answered, “Yeah, all right,” and closed the exercise books on the table. At least he would still have time to finish about half a mock paper before bed.

 

I-hyeon rose first and returned to his desk to put his books away. He was about to pull on his coat to see Seung-hyuk to the front gate when Seung-hyuk crossed the large room in a few strides and held out his phone.

 

“Oi, Kwon I-hyeon.”

 

“Put your number in.”

 

The phone was a recent model, but it was covered in scratches and dents.

 

“I never know when I'll get called away and end up late, like today. If I can't make this mentoring thing, I'll let you know beforehand. So don't sit around waiting in the classroom for no reason. Just go home.”

 

As I-hyeon entered his contact details into the phone, his lips parted involuntarily. He wanted to ask who kept summoning Seung-hyuk and what happened when they did, but he could not bring himself to ask either question.

 

Instead, after hesitating, he said, “…Send me a message.”

 

“…”

 

“I'll contact you if I have something on, too.”

 

I-hyeon went past Seung-hyuk, opened the bedroom door and stepped into the corridor first. His phone vibrated briefly in his pocket.

 

Looking at the short message bearing the name ‘Gu Seung-hyuk’, I-hyeon curled his hand tightly around his phone. His fingertips tingled all the way to the front door.

I-hyeon had overslept for some reason and arrived at his classroom later than usual. Even before he reached the door, he sensed that something about the whole class was different. There was a restless excitement in the air.

 

Sure enough, the moment he opened the door and went inside, every eye in the classroom turned towards him.

 

What's going on?

 

He concealed his surprise, but the looks followed him all the way to his seat. He set his bag down beside the desk and began taking out the textbooks he would need that day. A shadow fell over the desktop. He looked up to find the class representative standing there with a stiff expression.

 

“Kwon I-hyeon. Were you in this classroom for mentoring after lessons yesterday?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

At the straightforward answer, the class representative's eyes sharpened.

 

“Nothing happened while you were here?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Anyone who knew I-hyeon already knew that he stayed behind on Tuesdays and Thursdays to mentor Gu Seung-hyuk. He could not understand why the class representative had come over just to ask him about it.

 

Looking around, he found the other students watching him suspiciously. He wished somebody would simply tell him what had happened instead of whispering among themselves with such unfriendly expressions.

 

Unable to make sense of the situation, I-hyeon turned back to the class representative.

 

“Did something happen?”

 

“No. All right, then.”

 

Still looking dissatisfied, the boy went over to a group gathered in the corner. Among them stood a boy whose name I-hyeon did not know, his face twisted with anger. When the class representative returned and said something to him, he shouted irritably.

 

“He's the only one! Why didn't you ask him properly?”

 

“We're not sure yet. Just wait until the teacher gets here.”

 

“…Fuck, my wallet. It was designer. It cost a fucking fortune. I worked part-time for months to buy it.”

 

A wallet…?

 

I-hyeon was frowning over the unexpected words when the front door opened sharply and their form teacher came in. The students who had been huddling together hurried back to their seats, and the teacher walked to the front.

 

“No special announcements today. Kwon I-hyeon, come to the staffroom with me for a moment.”

 

I-hyeon still had no idea what was going on, but it did not seem like a good sign. He got up calmly and followed the teacher out. His classmates' gazes clung to him the entire way. He could tell from their expressions that they were not looking at him kindly.

 

He followed his teacher into the staffroom. Rather than heading for his own desk, the man led him to a small counselling room at one side. The click of the door closing behind him sounded oddly ominous.

 

I-hyeon sat where the teacher indicated. Sitting opposite, the man leant forwards, elbows on his knees, and rubbed both hands over his face as though exhausted.

 

“I'll get straight to the point. Yesterday, Woo-young left his wallet in his locker. Sometime overnight, it disappeared.”

 

“…”

 

“You and Seung-hyuk stayed in the classroom for mentoring after school yesterday, didn't you?”

 

Only the two of them had remained after lessons, and sometime during that period a wallet had disappeared from a locker. That alone was enough for I-hyeon to understand what his teacher was suggesting.

 

He bit hard on his bottom lip before answering.

 

“It wasn't us.”

 

“You need to be honest with me. If we settle this between ourselves, that's one thing. But if it gets reported to the head of department, or even the headteacher, matters will become complicated.”

 

“…It wasn't us.”

 

At I-hyeon's repeated denial, the teacher heaved a long, deep sigh. His manner suggested he already knew I-hyeon was lying.

 

I-hyeon's chest grew tight. He wanted to insist on his innocence, but it seemed as though the other man would never believe him, no matter how often he said it.

 

Then the counselling-room door clicked open. Gu Seung-hyuk entered with a more expressionless face than usual. Seeing I-hyeon sitting pale-faced opposite the teacher, he raised an eyebrow in displeasure.

 

“You're here. Sit down.”

 

Seung-hyuk sauntered over and dropped into the chair beside I-hyeon. Perhaps he had already been given a rough explanation. He sat crookedly with both hands shoved into his pockets and said nothing.

 

“Now you're both here, I'll explain again. One of the students in my class left his wallet behind yesterday evening, and it's gone missing. You two were the only ones in the classroom after lessons ended.”

 

“Given the circumstances, you're bound to be suspected.”

 

The teacher lowered his voice. His expression was grave and devoid of humour. Seung-hyuk, however, merely folded his arms, tilted his head and spoke.

 

“The stupid bastard left his wallet at school. Why are you trying to pin it on us?”

 

“What?”

 

“What would we do with a few miserable notes?” Seung-hyuk asked, letting out an incredulous laugh. “You've known his family is well off since he transferred here. And my family goes without saying.”

 

“…”

 

“You've picked completely the wrong people, haven't you?”

 

At the blatant mockery, the teacher's face flushed red. He glared fiercely at Seung-hyuk, then slapped two sheets of A4 paper and a pen down on the table.

 

“Both of you, write statements. I want every detail of where you were and what you did after lessons, without leaving anything out. You don't have to go to your next class.”

 

No sooner had he finished speaking than the teacher stood abruptly. He gave them both a sharp look, left the counselling room and closed the door behind him.

 

As soon as the latch clicked, Seung-hyuk stretched and sank comfortably back into his chair. Then he took his phone from his pocket and began playing a game as leisurely as ever.

 

I-hyeon, in contrast, was staring down at the blank sheet of paper.

 

His thoughts were tangled. Why did the wallet have to disappear on the very day they had mentoring? He could not help resenting the coincidence.

 

What if things went wrong and their parents were called in?

 

The thought of his father being summoned to the school left him struggling to breathe. I-hyeon gripped the pencil tightly and sank his teeth into his bottom lip.

 

He tried to write down everything that had happened after lessons, as his teacher had instructed. But he could put down only a single line: he had waited in the classroom for Gu Seung-hyuk, they had done the mentoring session, and afterwards they had left school together.

 

It felt humiliating to have to prove his innocence over something he had not even known was happening. I-hyeon clenched his hand, then put the pencil down and turned towards the window.

 

“…Looks like rain.”

 

It was an unthinking remark, prompted by the gloomy sky. Seung-hyuk's gaze left his phone long enough to travel over I-hyeon's face and the view beyond the window, then settled back on the screen.

 

“Bring an umbrella?” he asked, still tapping absently at his phone.

 

I-hyeon watched him, absorbed in his game even now, and answered.

 

“…Yeah. Did you?”

 

“Dunno. I'll grab whichever one happens to be lying about in the classroom, like last time.”

 

Listening to Seung-hyuk's untroubled voice, I-hyeon began to feel as though their situation might not be such a terrible thing after all. Seung-hyuk was neither intimidated nor worried, unlike him. His own anxious, pounding heart seemed gradually to return to its normal rhythm.

 

“…I've got two umbrellas. I'll lend you one, so come to our classroom later.”

 

Seung-hyuk glanced up at him, shrugged and said, “Sure, then,” before lowering his eyes again.

 

Silence returned to the counselling room. Wondering how much longer they would have to stay there, I-hyeon clasped two fingers together and stared at the blank paper. Then the door was flung open.

 

Standing in the doorway was the headteacher, breathing heavily with rage. The deputy head had followed him in and was trying to calm him down.

 

“You! Gu Seung-hyuk, you little thug…! This school took you in, and instead of being grateful and behaving yourself, you've gone and stolen another boy's wallet?”

 

He had burst into the room without warning and was pointing at Seung-hyuk, who had merely been sitting there. I-hyeon started to rise in alarm, but Seung-hyuk simply twisted his mouth indifferently.

 

That seemed to enrage the headteacher even more. Pushing away the deputy, who tried to stop him, he approached Seung-hyuk, seized him by the collar and hauled him upright.

 

“You bastard. This time I really will have you expelled, so you'd better be prepared. Do you understand?”

 

He appeared momentarily taken aback to find Seung-hyuk's face so far above his own, but he was still breathing heavily with fury.

 

Seung-hyuk only poured oil on the flames. One corner of his mouth rose into a crooked, chilling smile.

 

“Go ahead, then.”

 

“You insolent little shit!”

 

The headteacher's face went scarlet as he raised a hand. The deputy and the other teachers behind him looked worried, but nobody stepped forwards.

 

It looked as though he was about to slap Seung-hyuk across the face. Watching the scene unfold, I-hyeon reached out instinctively, caught the headteacher's arm and stepped between them.

 

“Don't hit him.”

 

“What?”

 

I-hyeon's voice was quiet, but firm. The counselling room fell silent.

 

“Talk to him instead.”

 

Behind I-hyeon, Seung-hyuk swallowed an incredulous laugh. This boy, who looked as though he could barely take care of himself, was standing in front of somebody else to protect him. It was absurd. Still, the sight of I-hyeon's round head between him and the furious headteacher was rather entertaining. Seung-hyuk merely put his hands in his pockets and stood watching.

 

“You insolent little bastards…! Mr Kim! Don't let either of them go anywhere until they've admitted what they did—”

 

“M-Mr Kim!”

 

As the headteacher's furious voice boomed through the counselling room and into the staffroom, somebody hurried over and caught I-hyeon's form teacher. The newcomer glanced towards I-hyeon and Seung-hyuk, then leaned closer to Mr Kim and the headteacher.

 

“The students… They've found the wallet while cleaning. It was in a corner of the Class Three classroom.”

 

“What did you say?”

 

“Apparently the boy must have dropped it, and it slipped beneath the lockers…”

 

At the news, I-hyeon finally felt relief. His fist, which he had not even realised he was clenching, relaxed.

 

The headteacher, however, looked far from pleased. He screwed up his face and glared at I-hyeon and Seung-hyuk. Behind I-hyeon came the sound of a soft, breathless laugh.

 

“Then we can go now, can't we?”

 

“…”

 

“Kwon I-hyeon. Come on.”

 

Seung-hyuk caught I-hyeon's wrist and led him out between the gathered teachers. Perhaps he was pleased that their innocence had been proven, because I-hyeon thought he could glimpse a smile on his profile.

 

The school was quiet; lessons had already begun. Only the sound of their footsteps echoed along the deserted corridors. Hurrying to keep up with Seung-hyuk, I-hyeon twisted his arm slightly to free his wrist. Seung-hyuk, who had been looking straight ahead, glanced at him.

 

“…You can let go now.”

 

Seung-hyuk looked at him for a moment, then released his wrist without a word. The walk to the main building, where the second- and third-year classrooms were, somehow seemed unusually long. I-hyeon walked slowly, a step to Seung-hyuk's side.

 

“Oi, Kwon I-hyeon.”

 

His name was called, and his wrist caught again, almost in the same instant. When he turned, Seung-hyuk was looking at him with an odd expression.

 

“You could've just let him hit me. Why'd you do that?”

 

The headteacher, a former PE teacher, was heavily built for his age. It was not as though I-hyeon had been unafraid when the man came storming in, raging. He simply had not wanted to watch Seung-hyuk being struck in front of everyone.

 

He did not want any more injuries to appear on Seung-hyuk's face.

 

“There's nobody in the world who deserves to be hit for no reason.”

 

“That includes you.”

 

I-hyeon's unwavering gaze met Seung-hyuk's without flinching. Seung-hyuk's eyes widened for a moment at words he had never heard in his life. Then he laughed softly, the breath slipping out of him.

 

Whenever I-hyeon saw one of those rare smiles, something inside his stomach seemed to tighten in a strange way. He hastened his steps and moved ahead of Seung-hyuk.

 

“Oi, Kwon I-hyeon.”

 

The pleasantly low voice came from not far behind him.

 

“Want to be friends?”

 

Thump. Thump. Thump. His previously steady heartbeat began racing out of rhythm.

 

I-hyeon decided it must simply be because he had heard such a ridiculous suggestion. He answered quietly.

 

“…Then call me hyung.”

 

At the low sound of laughter behind him, the same strange tightness returned to his stomach.

“Oh, come on. Can't I have just one more pork cutlet?”

 

“No. There isn't even enough for everyone behind you.”

 

“Just one more… Please? Just one!”

 

“I said no.”

 

Dong-woo, who had been twisting about with his tray in his hands, pouted at the dinner lady's firm refusal. Beside him, I-hyeon watched a generous piece of pork cutlet being placed on his own tray and bowed his head in thanks.

 

Once he had collected his bowl of soup, he turned and spotted Dong-woo and the others sitting at an empty table farther ahead. One of them was already reaching across somebody else's tray with his chopsticks before he had even sat down. It was a familiar sight that I-hyeon had seen countless times since transferring to the school.

 

With the faintest upward curve of his lips, he headed towards them.

 

“Oh, oi. Oi, I-hyeon.”

 

The drawling voice came from his side. I-hyeon turned instinctively and found Chan-yang and his group. His expression stiffened the moment his eyes met Chan-yang's, who was sitting in the middle.

 

“Come here. There's a seat free.”

 

Chan-yang tilted his head and indicated the space beside him. A shaggy-haired boy was sitting there, glancing around with a painfully tense expression. Chan-yang smiled as though something amusing had occurred and draped an arm over the boy's shoulders.

 

“Woo-seong, you've finished eating, haven't you?”

 

“Ah, er, yeah…”

 

“Then go on up to the classroom. And don't wander off anywhere else.”

 

The side dishes on the boy's tray looked almost untouched, but he scrambled to his feet. Picking up the tray nervously, he cast I-hyeon a sympathetic look, as though they were in the same position, and hurried away from the table.

 

“What are you standing there for? Waiting for a ceremony?”

 

A few students glanced at I-hyeon as he watched. Clearly he was not going to get away with a passing greeting. Swallowing a sigh, he signalled to his own friends and set his tray down beside Chan-yang.

 

At the rattle of the tray, the boy sitting opposite raised his head. He was another of Chan-yang's friends, who had been paying far more attention to his phone than to his food. After giving I-hyeon a bland glance, he turned to Chan-yang.

 

“Hyung, hyung, Chan-yang hyung. Hye-yeon noona wants to know if she can bring a younger friend to the hideout tonight.”

 

“Which friend?”

 

“You know, the girl who was there when we were drinking at her place that time?”

 

Chan-yang frowned and cocked his head. The boy nudged the friend beside him with his elbow.

 

“Oi, remember her name? The one you went off with?”

 

“So-young?”

 

“Yeah, that's her. Lee So-young. You said she was pretty, hyung.”

 

“Ah.”

 

Chan-yang nodded as though he had finally remembered, then picked up his chopsticks without further comment. The boy quickly turned his attention to the friend beside him.

 

“Oi, you're coming too, right?”

 

“Not today.”

 

“How come?”

 

“Girlfriend's birthday.”

 

The friend shrugged, sounding thoroughly indifferent. The other boy clicked his tongue and shook his head.

 

“You slut. Since when do you bother remembering things like that? Isn't it embarrassing? Might as well cut your dick off.”

 

“That's pathetic, Ho-yeong. You're just jealous.”

 

“Fuck off.”

 

“Stop at the convenience store and get some condoms on your way to the hideout. I used all the ones there last time.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

The boy tapping at his phone with a spoon in his mouth looked up to gauge Chan-yang's mood, then cocked his head.

 

“Hyung, what are you going to do? Are you coming or not?”

 

At the question, Chan-yang leant back with a thoughtful hum and turned his head. His gaze settled on I-hyeon, who was eating with his head lowered, as though determined not to hear a word of the conversation.

 

Chan-yang grinned and leant towards him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders with a pretence of familiarity.

 

“I-hyeon, you heard them. What do you reckon?”

 

“Should I go or not?”

 

The pale hand picking listlessly through the side dishes stopped. I-hyeon's neatly composed brow had furrowed from listening to such an unpleasant conversation.

 

Frowning almost imperceptibly, he twisted his left shoulder to shake off Chan-yang's hand and answered quietly.

 

“Do whatever you want, hyung. Why are you asking me?”

 

Chan-yang looked at the arm I-hyeon had brushed aside and gave a breathy laugh. Then he caught I-hyeon firmly by the back of the neck and leant close to his ear.

 

“I-hyeon. Why are you talking to me so rudely?”

 

“Let's keep things nice between us, yeah?”

 

The low whisper brushing his ear made I-hyeon's skin crawl as though insects were moving over it. He bit the inside of his cheek hard and lowered his eyes. Seemingly satisfied, Chan-yang stroked the back of his head.

 

The large, thick hand slid across I-hyeon's stiffened neck. Chan-yang pulled him closer with the arm around his shoulders and patted him as though offering encouragement.

 

The grains of rice on I-hyeon's tongue felt rough and unpleasant. He tried to keep eating on the grounds that he would only be hurting himself if he went hungry, but he could not manage any more. He could not taste the food, and even if he forced it down, he was certain it would sit heavily in his stomach.

 

He had just set down his chopsticks and raised his head, intending to leave, when he felt somebody watching him.

 

Without thinking, he turned and met a pair of eyes that might have been directed his way for some time. Amid the students chatting busily over their lunches, Gu Seung-hyuk sat with his chin propped on one hand, his face blank.

 

For a moment their gazes met. Then Seung-hyuk's eyes dropped to I-hyeon's shoulder, where Chan-yang's hand rested. He studied the hand silently before rising slowly to his feet.

 

Seung-hyuk was wearing nothing more than a carelessly buttoned shirt, without even a tie. He said something to the boys sitting beside him and headed straight towards I-hyeon and Chan-yang's table without hesitation.

 

Chan-yang's friends noticed him before Chan-yang did.

 

“Oh, Seung-hyuk. Eating now? Feels like I haven't seen you in ages.”

 

Despite the friendly greeting, Seung-hyuk barely bothered to nod. Chan-yang, who had been watching I-hyeon, lifted his head. Seung-hyuk's impassive gaze touched him only briefly before moving away.

 

As though nobody except I-hyeon interested him in the slightest, Seung-hyuk turned his body towards him and spoke.

 

“Kwon I-hyeon. If you've finished eating, come somewhere with me.”

 

Chan-yang's friends exchanged uncomfortable looks. Seung-hyuk was openly ignoring the older students at the table. One of them laughed awkwardly.

 

“Seung-hyuk, aren't you even going to say hello? Chan-yang hyung's here.”

 

Seung-hyuk did not reply. A short, unnatural silence settled over the table until Chan-yang broke it.

 

“Forget it. It's not as if the bastard only started behaving like this yesterday.”

 

Chan-yang raised one corner of his mouth in a smile that tried to look relaxed and set down his chopsticks. He looked at Seung-hyuk, then tilted his head to meet I-hyeon's eyes.

 

“Anyway, you two know each other?”

 

“Our I-hyeon certainly gets around.”

 

I-hyeon's expression stiffened as Chan-yang pulled him closer against his side. He wanted to throw the arm off, but all he could manage was to avoid their gazes, his face tense.

 

Seung-hyuk watched the scene for a moment, rubbing one eyebrow with his fingertip.

 

“Hyung, aren't you a bit old to still be doing that?”

 

“What?”

 

“You might have repeated a year at school, but you'd think you'd have grown out of dragging somebody around and bullying them by now.”

 

The unmistakable mockery chilled the atmosphere. Chan-yang alone twisted his lips as though he found it amusing. Letting out a disbelieving laugh, he patted I-hyeon on the shoulder.

 

“Bullying him? Oi, I-hyeon. You tell him. Am I bullying you?”

 

“…It's not like that.”

 

“There you go. He says I'm not.”

 

At Chan-yang's glib answer, Seung-hyuk's eyes moved to I-hyeon. The stare was so persistent that I-hyeon felt as though it could see straight through him. His mouth went dry, and he instinctively looked away before adding, as though making an excuse:

 

“He's just… someone I know. An older friend.”

 

“Just an older friend?”

 

This time it was Chan-yang who repeated the words. His questioning tone was deceptively mild. He snorted and deliberately curved his eyes in a pretence of affection.

 

“I-hyeon, that's a bit hurtful to your hyung.”

 

“…”

 

“We're not just two people who happen to know each other.”

 

The hand around I-hyeon's shoulders withdrew, then slowly travelled upwards. It stopped at the rim of his ear, exposed between strands of hair. The fingertip brushed the fine hairs there, sending a sickening shiver down his spine. I-hyeon flinched and reflexively tilted his head away, making Chan-yang laugh.

 

“We're a little closer than that. Aren't we?”

 

Under the table, I-hyeon clenched his fists. He was trying to keep his expression calm, as though nothing were wrong, but he doubted he looked that way to anyone watching. He could not bring himself to look at Seung-hyuk and was lowering his eyes when an incredulous laugh and a low voice reached him.

 

“You act like that and still call yourself his friend? Have you got no fucking conscience?”

 

“What?”

 

Smack.

 

Before Chan-yang could get anything else out through his scowl, the hand touching I-hyeon's ear was knocked away. Seung-hyuk had slapped Chan-yang's wrist aside and taken I-hyeon by the arm, hauling him to his feet.

 

After drawing I-hyeon to his side, Seung-hyuk started to turn away, then tilted his head and looked back.

 

“Hyung, you can get rid of that for Kwon I-hyeon, then.”

 

With a raised eyebrow, he indicated I-hyeon's tray on the table.

 

“You can manage that much for someone you're so close to, can't you?”

 

Seung-hyuk grinned at Chan-yang without lowering his eyes, then walked away. His grip on I-hyeon's wrist was firm but did not hurt.

 

“Huh? Oi!”

 

“That fucking bastard…!”

 

Their voices, mingled with swearing, seemed to follow from behind, but Seung-hyuk remained completely untroubled. He walked towards somewhere unknown at an easy, steady pace.

 

I-hyeon resisted the urge to look back and check Chan-yang's expression. He hurried alongside Seung-hyuk and swallowed against his dry throat.

 

What if he asked more questions about Chan-yang?

 

To explain that Lee Chan-yang had been controlling him one-sidedly, he would first have to explain how Chan-yang had found something to hold over him. And that meant telling Seung-hyuk he was gay.

 

But he had no idea how Seung-hyuk would react to that revelation.

 

What if he gave I-hyeon the same horrified answer and disgusted look his parents had?

 

I-hyeon's gaze flickered briefly towards Seung-hyuk's profile before dropping away. Turning his head quickly, he worried at his bottom lip.

 

…He thought it would hurt even more than it had back then.

 

He was so busy trying to decide what he could say, what he should conceal and where to draw the line that he could barely think straight. He struggled to keep his anxious expression blank, though his heart was pounding.

 

For a moment, he wondered whether Seung-hyuk could feel his pulse through the wrist he was holding. I-hyeon tried to pull his arm away gently, but it was no use. Seung-hyuk glanced down at him without speaking and adjusted his grip.

 

By the time Seung-hyuk finally released him, I-hyeon had become painfully conscious of the warmth where their skin had touched. He opened and closed his hand, unsettled by the unfamiliar sensation.

 

They had stopped in front of a bench near the school tuck shop. Seung-hyuk turned towards him.

 

“Sit there a minute.”

 

He pressed I-hyeon down by the shoulders and disappeared into the tuck shop, which was just beginning to get crowded. A little later, he emerged carrying several packaged buns and a carton of milk in one hand and approached I-hyeon.

 

I-hyeon sat with his hands on his knees, lips firmly closed, simply looking up at him. Seung-hyuk frowned. He swept his fringe back, looked down at I-hyeon for a moment and then deposited everything into I-hyeon's pale hands without giving him a choice.

 

Only then did he smile with satisfaction.

 

“…The place you wanted me to come with you was the tuck shop?”

 

There was nothing wrong with coming here, but after the confrontation in the dining hall, the destination seemed almost absurdly ordinary. I-hyeon finally lifted his head and met Seung-hyuk's eyes. Standing with his weight on one leg, Seung-hyuk laughed and shrugged.

 

“I always fancied the idea of putting an arm round a mate's shoulders and going to the tuck shop together at lunchtime.”

 

A droplet slid down the milk carton and spread across the lines of I-hyeon's palm. His hand, which had been dry all this time, quickly grew damp.

 

His fingers tingled strangely. He pressed his thumb against the carton for no reason and answered quietly.

 

“…You've got loads of people around you.”

 

“Those bastards are just people I hang about with.”

 

Seung-hyuk answered carelessly, closing his eyes as he rolled his neck from side to side. He nudged I-hyeon's slipper lightly with his toe, checked the time on his phone and added in an offhand tone:

 

“Eat it here or take it back to the classroom. Up to you.”

 

I-hyeon slowly lowered his eyes. He had chocolate bread, melon bread, pizza bread and even a 500 ml carton of milk balanced in his hands. Seung-hyuk's hands, meanwhile, were empty.

 

“Didn't you get anything?”

 

“I finished my lunch earlier.”

 

It sounded suspiciously as though he had been watching I-hyeon in the dining hall. I-hyeon glanced up at him, but Seung-hyuk looked perfectly unconcerned. He ran his tongue over his dry lips.

 

“See you.”

 

Seung-hyuk snapped his fingers in front of I-hyeon's face and turned away without hesitation, apparently heading back to his classroom. He had only gone about three steps when he stopped as though suddenly remembering something, pulled an object from his pocket and spoke.

 

“Ah, and I suppose it's a bit rich coming from me, but…”

 

He turned and tossed something towards I-hyeon with the easy motion of a pass. It was a lemon-flavoured lollipop. The sweet landed atop the packaged buns. I-hyeon looked at it, then raised his head towards Seung-hyuk.

 

“You really ought to be more careful who you make friends with.”

 

“…”

 

“Why are all the people you call friends such a bloody mess?”

 

Seung-hyuk was looking not at I-hyeon but somewhere beside him, a small, airy laugh escaping his lips. For a moment, there was something self-mocking in his gentle smile.

 

I-hyeon noticed and was about to speak when Seung-hyuk added lightly:

 

“Oi, don't give any of that away. Eat it all yourself.”

 

He clicked his tongue and walked away without looking back.

 

I-hyeon wanted to run after him and look at his face once more. But he was afraid that if he tried to add anything, the subject of Chan-yang would come up again. He bit the tip of his tongue, worried that he might accidentally call out Seung-hyuk's name, and curled his fingers tightly.

 

The innocent packet of bread crumpled in his hand.

Whether fortunately or unfortunately, the days passed without anything out of the ordinary happening.

 

Being in his final year of school had always felt like a noose tightening around his neck, as though he were a condemned prisoner awaiting execution. Yet it proved useful when there were events at church. He was able to avoid the welcome programme for new church members, which began on Sunday morning, by claiming that he needed to go to the study centre and revise.

 

The excuse had really been made because he did not want to be in a room full of churchgoers with his father. He did not particularly want to spend Sunday morning shut up in a study centre, either. But leaving the house did not mean he had anywhere else to go.

 

In the end, after trudging along for a while, I-hyeon headed not to the study centre but to the little park near the three-way junction.

 

The park, neither conveniently situated nor particularly well equipped, was empty as usual. On his way to the bench where he always sat, I-hyeon remembered that this was where he had first met Seung-hyuk. Without thinking, he glanced around. Gu Seung-hyuk seemed to live somewhere nearby, too.

 

“Ah…”

 

Even people who lived in the same neighbourhood did not just happen to run into one another that easily. He felt rather foolish for looking around.

 

Seung-hyuk's number, saved in his phone, suddenly came to mind. But he had never once contacted him without some particular reason. I-hyeon gripped his phone and leant back against the bench, drawing his knees up and hugging them.

 

It was still too chilly to spend much time outside. He knew perfectly well that going to the study centre and memorising even one more English word would be more sensible than sitting here letting time slip away. Today, though, he especially did not feel like doing anything.

 

When he closed his eyes, curled up and rested his forehead against his knees, the sounds around him seemed to grow sharper.

 

If he did well in the university entrance exams and got into university, he wanted to live in halls or rent a place of his own. If his parents objected, he would even use his grades as an excuse. Whatever it took, he wanted to escape this suffocating place.

 

He had also wondered whether Chan-yang might stop looking for him if he changed his phone number and moved somewhere nobody knew him.

 

But to do that, he ought to hurry up and study…

 

He was pressing down the sigh that threatened to escape and worrying at his bottom lip when he heard footsteps approaching from a distance. Somebody stopped in front of him. Before he sensed their presence properly, a familiar voice sounded above his head.

 

“Kwon I-hyeon?”

 

I-hyeon looked up as though drawn by a spell. Gu Seung-hyuk was standing there, a cigarette between his lips, looking down at him. He was dressed casually in tracksuit bottoms and a jacket, as though he had only stepped out for a moment.

 

Seung-hyuk glanced at the bag beside I-hyeon, held a lighter to the cigarette and mumbled:

 

“Why are you sitting out here when you've got a nice house to go to?”

 

Hearing it put into words by someone else made I-hyeon's circumstances seem even more ridiculous. Embarrassed, he answered in a small murmur.

 

“Just… didn't have anywhere to go.”

 

Instead of answering, Seung-hyuk exhaled smoke. With one hand in his trouser pocket, he turned his head away and waved the smoke aside. I-hyeon gazed up at him for a moment before speaking.

 

“…What about you?”

 

“Me too, more or less.”

 

Seung-hyuk dropped onto the bench beside him, rubbed the back of his neck and yawned. The brief look of weariness that crossed his face seemed strangely mature for his age. I-hyeon watched him, then looked away first.

 

“Oi, you haven't got anything on today, then?”

 

Seung-hyuk broke the comfortable silence. He tapped at his phone as though searching for something, flicked his cigarette away and tilted his head.

 

“Fancy going to see the sea?”

 

“Now?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Just like that?”

 

I-hyeon's eyes widened at the unexpected suggestion. Seung-hyuk had suggested going to the seaside as casually as someone might suggest a trip to an internet café. It was both bewildering and ridiculous.

 

Amused by I-hyeon's unusually startled expression, Seung-hyuk grinned and jerked his chin.

 

“It's not as if we have to catch a plane to find the sea. We can go for a bit and come back. What's the problem?”

 

“No, but still…”

 

“If we leave now, we'll make the bus. Get up. Let's go.”

 

Seung-hyuk caught his wrist, and I-hyeon scrambled to gather his bag. Once they reached the main road, Seung-hyuk immediately flagged down a taxi and pushed I-hyeon into the back seat. He took the seat beside him, chuckling quietly at how plainly bewildered I-hyeon looked.

 

The taxi sped them to the bus terminal. I-hyeon stood in a daze watching Seung-hyuk buy two tickets for the bus to Sokcho. He had never gone on a trip so impulsively. Could this even be called a trip in the first place?

 

“Oi, the bus is here.”

 

Only when their coach pulled in did I-hyeon begin to realise they were genuinely going. His heart belatedly started racing. He had only been to the seaside a few times, on summer family holidays when he was little.

 

On the bus, I-hyeon found his seat first. He rested his hands on his bag and stared vaguely out of the window. Suddenly the weight on his lap disappeared. When he turned, Seung-hyuk was holding his bag by the handle. He raised an eyebrow at its surprising weight, then lifted it onto the rack above their seats.

 

“No wonder you don't grow any taller, lugging something like this around.”

 

I-hyeon narrowed his eyes at him. But when he saw Seung-hyuk, tall enough that he had to tilt his head beneath the ceiling, he could think of nothing to say. As he turned away with an invisible pout, Seung-hyuk gave a snort and poked at his protruding lip.

 

The coach travelled along the motorway without delay. After passing through layers of surrounding mountains and several long tunnels, an announcement informed them that the next stop was the bus terminal.

 

I-hyeon twisted his stiff body and followed the other passengers off. The moment his feet touched the ground, he could almost smell the sea. He obediently followed Seung-hyuk, who hailed another taxi without hesitation.

 

Whoosh. Shhhh.

 

The first thing to greet them when they reached the beach was the refreshing sound of waves. It was still early in the year for seaside visitors, so the vast expanse of sand was nearly deserted.

 

The open view of the sea made the tightness that had weighed on I-hyeon's chest feel as though it had suddenly cleared. A smile rose to his lips, and he found himself exclaiming in wonder.

 

“Let's go closer.”

 

At I-hyeon's words, Seung-hyuk, who had been standing with both hands in his pockets, began walking first. I-hyeon followed him onto sand that looked firm and hard. Instead, his foot sank straight into it with a soft thump. He staggered, caught his balance and laughed quietly.

 

Seung-hyuk looked back over his shoulder and gave a disbelieving smile.

 

“Are you a child?”

 

Wave after wave rolled in without end. The wet shoreline glittered, and I-hyeon found it fascinating.

 

He planted a footprint near the edge where the surf broke, then hurried backwards and replied with a clear smile:

 

“You try it.”

 

For a moment, Seung-hyuk's mind went completely blank. He had only ever seen I-hyeon smile faintly, almost silently, as though he were not quite allowing himself to smile at all. Seeing him smile so openly now was strangely unfamiliar.

 

Seung-hyuk swallowed without realising it. He looked down at the water, which had already risen high enough to reach the soles of his trainers, then bent to dip a hand into the sea. He flung the water at I-hyeon standing beside him.

 

“Oi…!”

 

Startled by the sudden splash, I-hyeon hunched his shoulders and whirled around. Once he realised what had happened, he narrowed his eyes and glared at Seung-hyuk. Seung-hyuk burst out laughing and splashed him again. Not to be outdone, I-hyeon retaliated.

 

Passers-by glanced at their unexpected water fight, but neither of them paid any attention. They were too busy splashing each other. Laughter mingled with every glittering spray of droplets caught by the sunlight.

 

Their eyes met again and again: when they thrust their palms into the cold water, shook the wet hair from their faces, kicked off their sodden shoes and ran as fast as they could.

 

The moment I-hyeon saw Seung-hyuk's bright, smiling face turned towards him, he instinctively knew he would remember this moment for a very long time.

 

It was as though butterflies had flown into his chest, fluttering and tickling him from within. I-hyeon squeezed his eyes shut and splashed even harder.

 

They went on splashing, running and dodging each other until I-hyeon was the first to surrender.

 

“Hah… Hah… Oi, Gu Seung-hyuk. Stop. Stop it.”

 

Seeing I-hyeon panting in his blotchy, waterlogged clothes, Seung-hyuk's smile deepened. He held out a hand.

 

“Truce.”

 

His raised eyebrow and nonchalant shrug were far too smug, and I-hyeon narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

 

Sure enough, the moment I-hyeon reached out warily, Seung-hyuk bent down and splashed him one more time. This time the seawater struck him squarely in the face. I-hyeon bit his lip, wiped away the water and charged at him.

 

They wrestled and chased each other for a while longer before finally calling a real truce. By the time they sat on a bench, both were thoroughly soaked.

 

The thought that they had behaved like little children in this weather left I-hyeon with a belated sense of mortification, but regret was useless now. He shook the water from his hair and muttered with a frown:

 

“I'm completely soaked.”

 

“That's what happens when you come to the seaside.”

 

I-hyeon let out an incredulous laugh at the absurd argument. Seung-hyuk chuckled too, apparently amused by what he had said.

 

Once their ragged breathing had settled, a breeze that still carried winter's chill swept across them. The wet clothes clinging to their bodies made I-hyeon shiver whenever he moved.

 

“…Cold.”

 

He murmured the word unconsciously as his shoulders hunched and a faint tremor ran through him. Seung-hyuk heard it, rustled beside him, then took off his jacket and handed it over.

 

“No, it's all right. I'm fine.”

 

“The clothes I've got on underneath aren't wet. Just put it on when I give it to you.”

 

I-hyeon shook his head, still insisting he was fine. Seung-hyuk clicked his tongue and got up to stand in front of him. He stretched out his arms with easy confidence, draped his jacket over I-hyeon's shoulders, then brought the sleeves around to the front and tied them together.

 

Seung-hyuk tapped I-hyeon's nose with a fingertip as I-hyeon stared up at him in bewilderment. Then he slung I-hyeon's heavy bag over his own shoulder and started walking.

 

“Let's get something to eat.”

 

They had a quick lunch at an old-looking restaurant opposite the beach. Afterwards, they had nothing in particular to do until their bus left. I-hyeon was following about three steps behind Seung-hyuk when the other boy stopped so suddenly that he almost walked straight into his back.

 

He raised his head. Seung-hyuk had stopped outside a large amusement arcade in the town centre. All sorts of machines were whirring noisily, their bright lights flashing. Seung-hyuk indicated the arcade with his chin and looked down at him.

 

“Want to go in?”

 

I-hyeon hesitated. There were more people inside than he had expected, from children who looked too young to be at secondary school to full-grown adults, all drifting between the machines.

 

“I've never been in one before.”

 

Seung-hyuk raised an eyebrow.

 

“What've you been doing all these years if you've never even been somewhere like this?”

 

“I don't like noisy places with lots of people.”

 

Seung-hyuk barely seemed to listen to the excuse. He caught I-hyeon's wrist and led him inside. While Seung-hyuk headed confidently towards the change machine, I-hyeon looked around in every direction.

 

Watching him bite his lip and dart his eyes about, Seung-hyuk laughed softly.

 

“Hand.”

 

Despite his wary expression, I-hyeon obediently held one out. Seung-hyuk smiled and dropped several five-hundred-won coins into his pale palm. I-hyeon looked down at them and raised an eyebrow as though to ask what they were for. Seung-hyuk took him by the arm and led him to a machine with plastic guns attached.

 

“I'll take the left. You take the right.”

 

They put in their coins. When the game began, something like a crosshair appeared in the centre of the screen. A short story sequence played, then grotesque zombie monsters began swarming towards them.

 

“Oi, do I just shoot them— Ah!”

 

Alarmed by the zombies rushing at him without so much as a proper explanation or tutorial, I-hyeon turned towards Seung-hyuk. Seung-hyuk merely grinned and swung his gun across the screen. I-hyeon hurriedly squeezed the trigger. The kick travelling back through his hand was stronger than he had expected.

 

He bit his bottom lip, glanced between Seung-hyuk and the screen, then fixed his eyes on the advancing monsters.

 

He had been told simply to shoot everything he saw, but he could not deal quickly enough with creatures leaping down from above or bursting out from below. Every time I-hyeon flinched in surprise, Seung-hyuk's mouth twitched with amusement.

 

As expected, the screen eventually turned grey and a message appeared asking for more coins. Seung-hyuk indicated that he could continue, but I-hyeon shook his head and let go of the gun.

 

He had barely managed to brace himself against the recoil. Seung-hyuk, on the other hand, had remained steady throughout. He clearly had plenty of practice killing zombies. After watching him for a moment, I-hyeon took a step back.

 

“You're good at that.”

 

“Didn't enjoy it?”

 

“It's not that. It's just a bit difficult.”

 

“Go and try something else, then.”

 

I-hyeon chose a machine behind them. In one corner of its huge screen, a little dinosaur was blowing bubbles. He thought he might have played something similar on a computer when he was younger. Surely he could manage this.

 

After inserting his coins and taking his place, a pale-green dinosaur floated down from the sky. I-hyeon moved the joystick and fired bubbles towards the rapidly approaching monsters.

 

He was doing reasonably well until an enormous boss filled the screen and the difficulty increased. His fingers tightened as he worked the joystick, launching bubbles while dodging lightning bolts and splashes of water.

 

Utterly engrossed, he was moving the joystick when a loud thump sounded somewhere nearby. His hand slipped. His dinosaur collapsed onto the ground and its final remaining heart disappeared.

 

Frowning, I-hyeon glared at his character as it dropped from the sky once again. This was his last chance. He steadied his breathing and took hold of the joystick.

 

“Are you a child? You can't even beat this?”

 

Before his focused mind had time to recognise the voice, warmth settled over his fingers. A hand reached past his shoulder from behind and covered his own.

 

I-hyeon swallowed in surprise. The hand enclosing his began to move, and he watched in a daze as the cute little green dinosaur moved entirely independently of his will.

 

“You keep dying because all you do is dodge. You've got to attack here.”

 

He could feel the solid body standing close behind him. The mildly scolding voice came from right beside his face, brushing past his ear. His heart seemed to drop.

 

He could barely move his stiff tongue to moisten his suddenly dry mouth. His pulse must be racing because the unexpected contact had startled him. I-hyeon struggled to conceal his agitation, his eyelashes trembling faintly.

 

Seung-hyuk released his hand and straightened just as the boss, whose health was almost exhausted, launched a surprise attack. The dinosaur collapsed with Xs over its eyes, and huge letters announcing GAME OVER appeared on the screen.

 

Seung-hyuk glared at it with a frown and raised an eyebrow. He ran his tongue over his lips as he straightened.

 

“Fucking rubbish game.”

 

“…”

 

“Oi, let's go and play something else.”

 

Seung-hyuk gave the machine a light kick and stood upright, no longer bending over I-hyeon. Only when the scent that had lingered near his nose finally moved away could I-hyeon breathe freely again.

 

He looked down at his own hand, still resting on the machine's buttons, and swallowed. As though trying to shake off the warmth that seemed to remain there, he clenched it into a fist.

 

Seung-hyuk led him around the arcade, trying one machine after another. Eventually they discovered that I-hyeon had no particular talent for fighting games, and the last place they stopped was a spot-the-difference machine.

 

Seung-hyuk chuckled at the sight of I-hyeon, who pretended to be indifferent even as he scrutinised the pictures as though trying to burn holes through them.

 

“Thanks to you, I'm trying all sorts of things today.”

 

I-hyeon had grown rather used to the way Seung-hyuk never laughed loudly, instead giving those short, breathy chuckles. He checked his phone and found that much more time had passed than he had realised. They ought to get going soon.

 

Just as he was about to move, he noticed a noisy group near the entrance laughing as they left a punching machine.

 

I-hyeon glanced up at Seung-hyuk and asked in passing:

 

“Don't you ever do that?”

 

He had seen scenes in television dramas and films where a stressed protagonist poured all their strength into punching one of those machines. They always said it made the tightness in their chest feel a little better.

 

Given that it involved fists and physical strength, he had expected Seung-hyuk to be interested. But Seung-hyuk merely looked at the punching machine without much enthusiasm. He shrugged and asked instead:

 

“Want to try it?”

 

“Not particularly.”

 

Regardless of the answer, Seung-hyuk walked up to the machine and began inserting coins. He rolled his wrist once or twice without much effort. Then, in the blink of an eye, a tremendous bang rang out.

 

The punching bag snapped backwards, and numbers began rattling rapidly upwards on the display behind it.

 

I-hyeon stared at Seung-hyuk with widened eyes. Evidently the talk of him being good with his fists was no exaggeration: the number on the display was impressive. Seung-hyuk looked down at the bag as it returned upright and rubbed his wrist again.

 

For a moment, something about his eyes made I-hyeon close the mouth he had been about to open. The look Seung-hyuk was giving the punching bag did not seem directed solely at a game machine.

 

His sharpened gaze appeared to be fixed on something beyond that crude pad of sponge and artificial leather. As I-hyeon watched him, another tremendous impact sent the bag flying backwards.

 

This time, the score climbed even higher. Seung-hyuk cracked his neck and nodded towards I-hyeon.

 

“You have a go.”

 

“…I've never done anything like this.”

 

He had not only never used a punching machine; he had never hit another person out of anger. When I-hyeon hesitated, Seung-hyuk came closer and firmly enclosed his wrist with one hand.

 

“Hold it like this. Then hit it with everything you've got.”

 

“…”

 

“Think about someone you hate so much you want to kill them, or something you can't stand.”

 

At those words, I-hyeon put out his tongue to moisten his lips. Chan-yang's face and his father's appeared in his mind at once. Thinking about how desperately he wanted to escape them, he struck the punching machine with all his strength, just as Seung-hyuk had told him.

 

There was a tremendous bang. A moment later pain began spreading through his clenched fist, and his heart started racing wildly. Holding his stinging hand, I-hyeon instinctively checked Seung-hyuk's expression.

 

Their eyes met. Seung-hyuk was smiling crookedly.

 

Behind them, the score was climbing amid an enormous racket, but I-hyeon could barely hear it. Looking into those pitch-black eyes, he thought of the question he had not been able to ask earlier.

 

Who were you thinking about just now?

 

As he held Seung-hyuk's dry, unsmiling gaze, what I-hyeon felt was recognition. An instinctive certainty that this person belonged to the same sort of world as he did.

 

They stood facing one another until the loud noises of the punching machine died away. Seung-hyuk spoke first.

 

“Well? Feel any better after trying it?”

 

“…No.”

 

“That's a shame.”

 

“What about you?”

 

At I-hyeon's question, Seung-hyuk's lips settled into an almost straight line. He looked away from I-hyeon and towards the punching machine.

 

“Me neither.”

 

“…”

 

“All it does is hurt my hand.”

 

The muscles in his jaw rose sharply as he clenched his teeth, then relaxed again. He clicked his tongue as though clearing the air, returned to his customary expressionless face and jerked his chin towards I-hyeon.

 

“Let's go.”

 

He slipped his hands into his pockets and walked ahead. I-hyeon stood watching his back for a moment before hurrying after him.

Between dozing off and waking again on the express coach home, they arrived back in Seoul before I-hyeon knew it. The sun was slowly setting beyond the window. Seung-hyuk stretched at full length as they got off at the terminal.

 

“I had fun today. Thanks to you.”

 

From splashing about at the beach to playing games in the arcade, they had done things I-hyeon would never have tried on his own so easily. It had been no more than half a day's escape, but he felt sure the memory would stay with him for a long time. He lingered awkwardly, reluctant to part ways just yet, and Seung-hyuk gave him a gentle push on the back.

 

“Eat something before you go home.”

 

He led I-hyeon to a fast-food restaurant opposite the terminal. I-hyeon was no more eager than Seung-hyuk to go home and sit at the dining table facing his family, so he followed him inside willingly.

 

At the self-service ordering screen, Seung-hyuk selected one burger meal and another burger on its own, then nodded towards I-hyeon. I-hyeon chose a meal for himself and spoke quickly.

 

“I'll pay for this one.”

 

It had been bothering him that Seung-hyuk had paid for everything, from the express coaches to Gangwon Province to their lunch. He was rummaging in his bag for his wallet when Seung-hyuk's card disappeared into the payment terminal.

 

Standing with one hand at the back of his neck and his weight on one leg, Seung-hyuk gave a faint snort.

 

“Buy yourself some sweets with it later.”

 

I-hyeon watched Seung-hyuk take the long receipt and head towards an empty table by the window, then let out an incredulous laugh. He went over and sat opposite him.

 

“Oi, I'm nineteen.”

 

When Seung-hyuk had first started speaking to him informally, I-hyeon had let it pass. Now he was beginning to suspect Seung-hyuk thought of him not merely as someone who was not older, but as a child much younger than himself. I-hyeon fixed him with a stern look, and Seung-hyuk laughed.

 

“And?”

 

“…”

 

“You want me to start treating you like my hyung now?”

 

Seeing how hard Seung-hyuk was trying not to laugh, I-hyeon felt even the energy to argue drain away. He shook his head and looked elsewhere.

 

“Forget it.”

 

“Why? Go on, say some more.”

 

When he thought about it again, Seung-hyuk suddenly becoming affectionate and calling him hyung all the time would be strange, too. I-hyeon pressed his lips together and began folding the receipt that lay on one side of the table into tiny creases.

 

“You're this old and you've never had a friend to go to an arcade with?”

 

At his previous school, and at middle school before that, he had got along reasonably well with everyone. But he had never had a particularly close friend with whom he would go out after school or arrange to meet at weekends. Seung-hyuk's teasing question made I-hyeon look back on that history, and he pressed his lips together.

 

“…You looked as though you'd been to one a lot.”

 

“I practically lived in arcades when I was in middle school. Didn't want to go home.”

 

“Next time, once I've finished some things I'm busy with, let's go to the arcade near school. More little kids go there, so it'll have more games you can manage.”

 

What sort of things was he busy with?

 

Seung-hyuk's expression seemed to stiffen slightly as he said it. Before I-hyeon could ask, however, a chime sounded through the restaurant. Seung-hyuk checked the number on the receipt once more and stood.

 

“Stay there.”

 

He lightly pressed I-hyeon's shoulder to stop him getting up too, then strode towards the counter.

 

I-hyeon had not noticed it when they were close together, but from a distance Seung-hyuk was remarkably tall. With his small head, long limbs and solid frame, he hardly looked like an adolescent schoolboy who was still growing.

 

And he was handsome as well. No wonder he attracted attention. A few women sitting at a nearby table glanced at him and exchanged meaningful looks.

 

Seung-hyuk stood waiting at the counter with his arms folded. His face was expressionless, giving him a cold air. Yet I-hyeon had witnessed that stern expression soften many times. He had seen his lips and eyes curve with a smile. He knew there was kindness concealed behind Seung-hyuk's indifferent, crooked manner.

 

He did not know which was the real Gu Seung-hyuk. Still, the knowledge that he had glimpsed a side of someone that other people did not know gave him an odd sense of satisfaction. Almost as though it were a privilege granted only to him.

 

The thought made his stomach flutter and his palms feel damp. When Seung-hyuk approached with their tray, I-hyeon instinctively avoided his gaze and looked down.

 

They barely spoke while eating. I-hyeon did not usually talk during meals at home, either, so he did not find the silence awkward. He was about halfway through his burger when Seung-hyuk reached for his second one.

 

Then somebody tapped on the window.

 

I-hyeon turned naturally towards the sound and met the eyes of a fierce-looking man with a long scar beside one eye. He looked to be in his early or mid-thirties. He wore a black blouson jacket and black trousers, and two other men dressed similarly stood behind him.

 

The man looked from I-hyeon to Seung-hyuk, then smiled broadly. His lips curved, but there was no laughter in his sharp eyes. I-hyeon's guard went up. He had never seen a face grow so cold while smiling.

 

He turned towards Seung-hyuk, who was also staring out of the window. All the easy good humour from moments before had vanished, leaving his face so cold it felt as though the air around them might freeze. The scarred man kept smiling in the face of Seung-hyuk's fierce stare, then turned and came into the restaurant.

 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

 

The sound of hard shoe heels striking the floor drew nearer, and Seung-hyuk's fist clenched tightly. The men stopped directly in front of their table. The scarred one spoke with the same chilling smile.

 

“Well, look at our second young master, leisurely eating his hamburger.”

 

“…”

 

“While certain other people have been running their fucking legs off looking for you all day.”

 

The muscles in Seung-hyuk's jaw bulged, then subsided. The man cracked his neck as though loosening up.

 

“That's enough of your little adventure.”

 

“…”

 

“Come outside.”

 

The voice that had been lightly mocking moments earlier had turned menacing. Sensing that something was very wrong, I-hyeon sat with his mouth closed, his gaze flicking between them.

 

The man standing in the middle looked at I-hyeon once more before leading the other two back outside. They stopped beside the entrance and lit cigarettes. After watching them for a moment, I-hyeon spoke.

 

“…Do you know them?”

 

Seung-hyuk did not answer. He was staring fixedly at the edge of the table. His rigid expression and sharpened eyes were colder than I-hyeon had ever seen them.

 

Then Seung-hyuk closed his eyes for a moment, as though holding something back, and opened them again. He checked the time on his wrist, pushed his unopened burger in front of I-hyeon and wiped his hands on a napkin.

 

“Eat that.”

 

“I won't be able to take you all the way home.”

 

I-hyeon wanted to ask what was happening, but he doubted he would get an answer. All he could do was gaze at Seung-hyuk as steadily as possible.

 

Seung-hyuk pushed back his chair and stood. Under that gaze, his expression softened slightly. The tip of one long finger brushed I-hyeon's fringe.

 

“See you at school.”

 

I-hyeon's eyes followed Seung-hyuk persistently as he walked towards the entrance without looking back. An uneasy feeling crept over him.

 

The long scar on the man's face and the dangerous look in his eyes strengthened I-hyeon's suspicion that the people who had come for Seung-hyuk were not ordinary men. He could not stop thinking about the way Seung-hyuk had obediently followed them.

 

Only moments earlier, he and Seung-hyuk had been sitting here chatting about nothing in particular. Now it felt like something that had happened in the distant past. His chest grew uncomfortable, as though a weight had suddenly settled in his stomach.

 

Alone at the table, I-hyeon stared for a while at the seat where Seung-hyuk had been sitting. Eventually he set down his half-eaten burger and folded the wrapper over it again.

 

He had lost his appetite. There was no reason to stay any longer. He was about to gather the rubbish when something dropped onto the tabletop with a dull tap.

 

It was a brown leather wallet, lying alone on the table. Seung-hyuk had carried it around all day.

 

I-hyeon pressed his lips together and reached for it. Tomorrow was Monday, so he could give it back when they met at school.

 

The thought was a relief, but he could not tell whether he was relieved about returning the wallet or about having a reason to see Seung-hyuk's face again. Trying not to consider the question, he gripped the wallet tightly.

 

──── 📘📘 ────

 

When lunchtime came, I-hyeon went to the tuck shop rather than the dining hall. He bought a packaged hamburger and headed towards the main building. In his other hand was the wallet Seung-hyuk had left behind the previous day.

 

As he reached the floor used by the second years, he heard a commotion. Although lunch had begun, it seemed that their turn to eat had not yet arrived.

 

Glad that he appeared to have timed it well, I-hyeon started forwards, only to realise that he did not know which class Seung-hyuk belonged to. This was the first time he had gone looking for him himself.

 

Was he going to have to work his way round from Class One? Then an idea occurred to him.

 

“Excuse me. Sorry, can I ask you something?”

 

He stopped a boy who was walking past, joking with his friends. The boy glanced at I-hyeon's name badge and looked puzzled, as though wondering what a third-year student wanted up here.

 

“Do you know which class Gu Seung-hyuk is in?”

 

“…Gu Seung-hyuk?”

 

The boy's expression changed from mere curiosity to wariness as soon as he heard the name. He took a step back, looked I-hyeon over and answered reluctantly.

 

“Class Six, I think.”

 

“Ah. Thanks.”

 

Class Six was on the floor above. Apparently the second years went for lunch starting with the later-numbered classes, because the corridor was quiet.

 

I-hyeon quickened his pace slightly. At the classroom, he slowly pushed open the back door. The sight of a broad back slumped over a desk in the final row near the window filled him with relief. He had not missed him.

 

Even to I-hyeon, the strength of that reaction seemed excessive. Uneasy at the unfamiliar feeling, he caught his bottom lip between his teeth.

 

After standing in a daze for a moment, he went inside. Entering somebody else's classroom felt strange and made his heart beat faster, but he deliberately acted as though nothing were unusual and walked straight towards Seung-hyuk.

 

At the desk, he saw the neatly arranged hair at the back of Seung-hyuk's head and lowered his eyes.

 

Light from the window fell across his white shirt. His broad back rose and fell with each breath. Looking down at him, I-hyeon decided it would be better not to wake him. He ignored the brief disappointment that passed through him and reached out.

 

Thump.

 

Suddenly his wrist was seized, making his fingers twitch. He had been about to put the wallet and the wrapped hamburger down beside the desk.

 

“What is it?”

 

The voice was low and husky with sleep, sending a chill through him. The grip tightened painfully around his wrist, and I-hyeon winced.

 

“Oi, that hurts.”

 

“…Kwon I-hyeon?”

 

Recognising his voice, Seung-hyuk finally loosened his hand. He pushed his upper body up from the desk and sat upright. With his head lowered, he rolled his neck, then noticed the wallet and tuck-shop hamburger on the desk and gave a breathy laugh.

 

Finally he lifted his head towards I-hyeon.

 

“What's with your face?”

 

I-hyeon's expression had gone rigid at the sight of him. Seung-hyuk's face was covered in marks that looked as though somebody had beaten him. One eyelid was swollen and bruised blue, long scratches ran across his cheek, and the split at his mouth had still not healed. It was red and seeping blood.

 

I-hyeon had seen him injured before, several times, but this was incomparably worse. He could not hide his shock. Seung-hyuk avoided his eyes and frowned, looking uncomfortable for once.

 

I-hyeon immediately remembered the adult men who had taken Seung-hyuk away the previous day. Suddenly it occurred to him that perhaps the injuries Seung-hyuk had always carried had not been caused by ordinary school fights at all.

 

But instead of asking questions, I-hyeon bit hard on his bottom lip, caught Seung-hyuk's arm and pulled him to his feet. Seung-hyuk tried to straighten, his face twisting with pain.

 

“Ah, what are you doing?”

 

“Get up. We're going to the nurse.”

 

“It's fine. I don't need to go.”

 

“I said get up.”

 

Seung-hyuk was about to wave his arm away and insist there was no need. But he raised an eyebrow when he saw I-hyeon's expression. The other boy looked so distressed, almost as though he himself were in pain, that Seung-hyuk found it strangely pleasing.

 

Instead of pushing him away and telling him to stop fussing, he relaxed as though giving in and rose to his feet. Without another word, he allowed I-hyeon to lead him out.

 

I-hyeon supported Seung-hyuk, who was a full head taller, and hurried onwards. Every movement sent pain through Seung-hyuk's body, but he found the sight of I-hyeon struggling along without once releasing his arm amusing. I-hyeon was far too busy walking quickly to notice Seung-hyuk laughing quietly above his head.

 

The infirmary was in the annex, so they had a long way to go. At least, from I-hyeon's perspective, it was fortunate that Seung-hyuk followed without complaining.

 

Seung-hyuk was so much taller that the attempt to support him was almost meaningless. Even so, I-hyeon did not relax the arm wrapped around his waist. Every part of the body pressed against him was so firm that it felt like trying to move a huge, ancient tree rather than a person.

 

Whenever he heard what sounded like a swallowed groan beside him, I-hyeon's steps grew more hurried.

 

By the time they left the main building and reached the annex, the corridors had grown noisy with students coming back from lunch. Worse, a crowd had gathered further ahead, apparently around a fight. They were blocking the staircase. To reach the infirmary, I-hyeon would have to pass right beside them.

 

Boys fighting among themselves was hardly unusual at an all-boys' school. Normally, if it had nothing to do with him, I-hyeon would take a quick look and keep walking. Today, however, it irritated him. Frowning, he helped Seung-hyuk towards the crowd.

 

“Ah, fuck! Where the hell do you think you're touching me, you sick bastard?”

 

“I didn't touch you! I bumped into you by accident!”

 

“You think I haven't noticed you staring at me every time I get changed? You think nobody's seen you hanging around with old men after school? Fucking disgusting gay bastard.”

 

I-hyeon had been trying to pass around the people watching the fight when one word from the argument lodged itself in his ears. Even though the accusation was not aimed at him, the hostility in it made his heart seem to drop.

 

When he faltered, Seung-hyuk, who had shown no interest in the fight until then, glanced over. He saw the two students clutching each other's collars and scowled.

 

“Fucking homos. They're everywhere.”

 

“They ought to just fucking die instead of making life miserable for everyone else.”

 

For a moment, I-hyeon wondered whether he had heard correctly. He froze. Seung-hyuk merely turned away with a disgusted expression, as though he did not even want to look at them.

 

The sudden hatred left I-hyeon unable to breathe. Heat surged through his body. His heart beat urgently, and his face burned. Swallowing in an attempt to steady himself did not help.

 

He clenched the fist of the hand that was not supporting Seung-hyuk and barely managed to speak.

 

“…Let's hurry.”

 

From the middle of the gathered crowd came the sounds of punches landing. Everyone surrounding the fight was cheering for one of the boys. The boy pinned down and being beaten seemed, for a moment, to be I-hyeon himself. He ground his teeth.

 

Even after they climbed a floor and reached the infirmary, his heart would not slow down. He wanted to hand Seung-hyuk over to the nurse and run to the toilets, but the room was empty.

 

I-hyeon sat Seung-hyuk on a bed. Seung-hyuk looked around with curious eyes while I-hyeon hurried to the nurse's desk.

 

“It's not as if this is your first time seeing me hurt. If you're fussing this much, I suppose I must look pretty bad today.”

 

The relaxed voice, tinged with laughter, reached him from behind. But his fingertips had gone cold as he searched the drawers. He clenched his hand once, then found some ointment and dressings and turned round.

 

As he approached Seung-hyuk, he could not bring himself to meet his eyes. He stared down at his fingers instead. He had almost squeezed the ointment onto a fingertip out of habit when he stopped.

 

Should he be the one to put it on? Would it be all right for him to touch him?

 

An image flashed through his mind: the moment his fingers touched Seung-hyuk's face, Seung-hyuk's eyes turning murderous as he called I-hyeon a gay bastard. Then came the imagined expression of contempt as he stared down at him.

 

Clenching his teeth, I-hyeon held the ointment out to Seung-hyuk. Sitting crookedly on the bed and looking up at him, Seung-hyuk merely lifted one corner of his mouth instead of taking it.

 

“Since you've dragged me all the way here, why don't you do me another favour?”

 

With a teasing voice, Seung-hyuk indicated I-hyeon's hand with his chin and raised his face. I-hyeon swallowed and reluctantly stepped closer. After hesitating, his fingers slowly moved.

 

Even while I-hyeon spread the ointment over his wounds, Seung-hyuk did not wince once. He merely stared at I-hyeon's face with an expression of strange amusement. When I-hyeon kept his face stiff and his eyes fixed on the cuts, never looking at him, Seung-hyuk laughed softly.

 

“Oi. Relax your face a bit.”

 

“Do I really look that awful?”

 

He had meant it as a joke to ease the overly tense atmosphere, but I-hyeon did not answer. Just as puzzlement began to enter Seung-hyuk's eyes, I-hyeon's firmly closed lips opened.

 

“Those boys from earlier. Do you know them?”

 

“Those boys?”

 

Seung-hyuk raised an eyebrow, trying to work out who he meant. Then he remembered what they had seen downstairs and answered carelessly.

 

“Heard there's been a lot of talk about one of them sleeping with old men for money. Probably couldn't kick the habit and got caught molesting a boy in his own class.”

 

His tone was coldly indifferent. He frowned even as he spoke, as though the subject itself disgusted him. I-hyeon knew he was not talking about him, yet shame washed over him all the same. He murmured quietly:

 

“You don't know that's true.”

 

“Do you have to see those sick bastards doing homo stuff to know what they're like?”

 

Seung-hyuk's scowling reply made I-hyeon's heart lurch. He had done nothing wrong, but his breathing grew shallow. He quickly drew his fingers away from Seung-hyuk's face and stepped back.

 

“Have they actually hurt anyone else? Why do you talk about them like that?”

 

“What do you mean they haven't hurt anyone? Their very existence is a fucking nuisance.”

 

“…It's not as though he chose to be like that. He was just born that way.”

 

“Exactly. If you were born wrong, you should take yourself out of the world instead of making everyone else miserable.”

 

When I-hyeon did not answer, Seung-hyuk looked up to check his expression. His pale face was almost as blank as usual. Thinking the unpleasant subject had merely made the mood strange, Seung-hyuk deliberately adopted a lighter tone.

 

“Why? Don't tell me you're interested in that sort of thing too.”

 

Behind his back, out of sight, I-hyeon's clenched fists trembled. His heart was pounding so hard it felt as though it might burst. Yet he forced his expression under control and spoke.

 

“No… I suppose if there were gay men around me, I'd…”

 

“…”

 

“…find it horrible too.”

 

Seung-hyuk gave a small laugh, turned away and walked towards the mirror in the corner. Behind him, I-hyeon closed his eyes and tried to calm his hammering heart. Instead, his breathing only grew faster and his chest tighter.

 

He forced back the sourness rising in his throat and spoke with a pale face.

 

“I've got PE next, and I forgot to borrow a kit. I'd better go first.”

 

“Now? There's still time—”

 

“Make sure the nurse treats you properly when she gets back.”

 

Without waiting for Seung-hyuk's reply, I-hyeon hurried out of the infirmary and down the stairs. He almost ran all the way back to the main building, then rushed into the first toilet he saw and locked the door.

 

“Urgh… Urrgh…”

 

The moment he lifted the toilet seat, he began retching. His eyes and nose stung, and nausea rose violently in his throat, but nothing came out except clear saliva and pale stomach acid. Clutching the toilet bowl as he heaved, I-hyeon's eyes grew red.

 

Ah. I went to find Gu Seung-hyuk at lunchtime without even thinking about eating.

 

I-hyeon bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut.

[Oi, Kwon I-hyeon. You're getting the bus home, right? Wait in the classroom when we're done.]

 

[I've got group work for an assessment. I'm staying behind for that. Go on without me.]

 

[When will you finish?]

 

[I won't know till we get through it. Don't wait.]

 

[Why aren't you answering your phone?]

 

[It was on silent. I didn't notice.]

 

[You take two whole days to reply to a message now?]

 

[Something going on? Call me when you see this.]

 

[Kwon I-hyeon.]

 

[Oi.]

 

The phone screen was bright. The yellow message bubbles were so obviously gathered towards the left that it was apparent at a glance who had been doing most of the talking.

 

I-hyeon stared down at the last message, which had arrived the previous evening. Since fleeing the infirmary the week before, he had been avoiding Seung-hyuk constantly. By now, Gu Seung-hyuk must have noticed.

 

“Oi, whose turn is it to do classroom duty this week? Tell them to get the recycling out before the end-of-day announcements start.”

 

“I did it last week, so this week it's… Yeah, Kwon I-hyeon.”

 

He needed to send Seung-hyuk a message quickly to postpone today's mentoring session as well, just as he had the previous one. But his hand would not move. His finger hovered pointlessly over the keypad.

 

“Oi, Kwon I-hyeon. You heard?”

 

“…”

 

“Kwon I-hyeon!”

 

At the sound of his name, I-hyeon suddenly looked up. His class representative was staring at him from the front of the bustling classroom, where the final lesson had just ended.

 

Only when he saw the bin bags beside the front door and his name written in the corner of the blackboard did I-hyeon remember he was on duty that week. A small sound escaped him.

 

“Ah.”

 

“Hurry up and take the recycling out before the form teacher comes.”

 

“Ah, right.”

 

“What's wrong with you lately? You've been completely out of it since last week. Pull yourself together.”

 

The class representative frowned in displeasure before finally looking away and beginning to issue instructions to other students. I-hyeon lowered his eyes to the phone still in his hand.

 

The screen had gone dark. His own expressionless face was reflected in the black glass, his eyes looking strangely vacant. Thinking back, he had been in this state all week.

 

He let out a sigh so faint it could barely be heard, gripped his phone and stood up.

 

When he reached the incinerator behind the annex with the rubbish, a group of boys were just coming out of the caretaker's office. The sight reminded him reflexively of Seung-hyuk and his friends the last time he had been there, and his feet stopped. Without thinking, he ducked behind the building.

 

“They found a body at that abandoned construction site on the road to the petrol station the other day, didn't they? All the fingers had been chopped off, and the body was stuffed in a drum.”

 

“Oi, my cousin's a police officer, and he told me something about that. Apparently the victim wasn't an ordinary civilian. That's why they're barely investigating and it hasn't been on the news.”

 

“Not an ordinary civilian? You mean a gangster or something?”

 

“Yeah. Yeah.”

 

“Fuck. That's actually kind of scary. You don't think that's why Gu Seung-hyuk's been missing school all the time, do you?”

 

“Ha, come on. He was in today.”

 

“Didn't he say he had some appointment?”

 

“An appointment? What appointment would he have at school?”

 

“Dunno. I don't know either.”

 

The boys walked past I-hyeon's hiding place, laughing among themselves. They were the ones who always seemed to be hanging around Seung-hyuk when I-hyeon saw him. He was relieved that he had not run into Seung-hyuk himself, though their conversation bothered him.

 

Perhaps it was worse because the last time he had seen Seung-hyuk, his face had been covered in injuries.

 

Still, I-hyeon did not feel ready to face him and pretend nothing was wrong. Merely thinking about the conversation in the infirmary made his heart beat anxiously. He was afraid it would all come back the moment he saw Seung-hyuk's face.

 

“…Hah.”

 

He rubbed a hand over his face with a short sigh. Then the phone in his pocket vibrated. When he took it out, a new message from Seung-hyuk was waiting.

 

[I've got a call to make after lessons. Wait in the classroom till I'm done.]

 

I-hyeon stared at the message, worrying his bottom lip, then began typing.

 

[Sorry, but can we put today's mentoring session off until next week?]

 

Almost as soon as the unread number beside the message disappeared, the screen darkened and the incoming-call symbol appeared.

 

The buzzing vibration travelled through his palm. Having just replied to the message, it would be difficult not to answer. I-hyeon squeezed the rubbish bag once, then raised the phone to his ear.

 

“Last week it was an assessment. Tuesday, it was careers counselling,” Seung-hyuk said, his voice lower than usual and plainly displeased. “What's the excuse today? Go on, let's hear it.”

 

I-hyeon could almost picture him scowling on the other end of the line. He lowered the rubbish bag to the ground and crouched slowly beside it.

 

“…I'm not feeling well.”

 

A short sigh came through the phone. Then, after a moment, Seung-hyuk spoke in a slightly gentler voice.

 

“What's wrong with you?”

 

“Nothing serious. I'll go home, take some medicine and rest.”

 

“Wait for me in the classroom when we're finished.”

 

“No, don't come. The others don't like it.”

 

The words escaped reflexively before Seung-hyuk had even finished. Silence fell. Covering his eyes with one hand, I-hyeon added in a weak attempt to explain himself:

 

“…Everyone's on edge because the mock-exam results came out recently.”

 

It was true that the results had been released, and that the atmosphere in the class had changed slightly. But it was clearly an excuse. Seung-hyuk seemed to recognise that too, because he asked quietly:

 

“Oi, Kwon I-hyeon. Has something happened?”

 

He would have had every reason to be irritated by I-hyeon's sudden change in attitude, but instead of getting angry, he seemed to be trying to coax an answer from him. The problem was that I-hyeon had nothing he could say.

 

The moment he had seen the disgust in Seung-hyuk's eyes as he stared past the boys in the corridor and talked about fucking homos, telling him the truth had ceased to be an option. It was as though that possibility had never existed in the first place.

 

I-hyeon could not face that look directed at himself.

 

Which left him only one thing to do.

 

“Nothing happened. There's nothing wrong.”

 

He tried to make the answer sound casual, though he had no confidence that it did. Rather than wait for Seung-hyuk to speak, he picked up the rubbish bag again and continued:

 

“I only came out to take the rubbish out. I need to get back inside.”

 

“Kwon I-hyeon.”

 

“Sorry for cancelling. I'll be in touch.”

 

Only after hanging up without waiting for an answer did he feel relief. He knew he could not keep doing this forever, but at the moment, blindly avoiding Seung-hyuk seemed the only way.

 

His chest tight with frustration, I-hyeon buried his forehead against his knees.

 

He had thought he was so accustomed to hiding himself that the habit was second nature. This time, however, it was unbearably difficult.

 

He sat at the study centre until after midnight, forcing himself to remain there even though he could not concentrate on a thing. As soon as he came outside, something soft landed on his face. It was sleet, unseasonable for this time of year.

 

Large, wet flakes, almost as big as the joint of a finger, drifted down from the grey sky.

 

Perhaps because of the rain mixed with it, the snow broke apart and melted as soon as it hit the ground. The pavement was already wet all over; it must have been falling for some time.

 

He did not want to get caught in something that was neither properly rain nor snow, but there was no umbrella in his bag. A convenience store was only a short run away. Even so, he could not summon the energy to go there. He pushed his hair back once and began walking towards home.

 

Perhaps it was the weather, but his body and mind both felt heavy and sodden. He walked with his eyes lowered, each step difficult.

 

Under the streetlights, his shadow stretched and shortened repeatedly across the dark asphalt. The only sounds in the quiet residential street were his footsteps and the faint patter of snowflakes falling.

 

He had nearly reached home when he noticed a dark silhouette beneath the wall beside the front gate. A red cigarette ember hovered in the air, swaying and leaving a faint trail of light.

 

The closer he walked towards it, the stronger the familiar smell of cigarettes became. As he approached, the indistinct black shape resolved into a man crouching beneath the wall without an umbrella.

 

The tap of I-hyeon's trainers grew slower and slower until his footsteps stopped altogether. Silence settled around them.

 

The crouching figure raised his head. The distant streetlamp cast deep shadows across his face. As I-hyeon stood looking down at him, the man spoke first.

 

“Bloody hell, Kwon I-hyeon. You're a hard man to get hold of.”

 

There was a hint of laughter in his voice. He turned to blow out a stream of cigarette smoke, then put his hands on his knees and rose to his feet.

 

I-hyeon's gaze remained fixed on the ground between his feet. There were so many cigarette ends piled up there that he could not even begin to count them.

 

“What kind of sick person goes wandering about like this?”

 

Seung-hyuk put the cigarette between his teeth and took off his jacket. He draped it over I-hyeon's shoulders. Beneath the acrid tobacco smell came faint traces of blood and alcohol.

 

I-hyeon slowly raised his head until he met Seung-hyuk's eyes, which were now level with his own.

 

“Gu Seung-hyuk. Have you been drinking?”

 

At the quiet question, Seung-hyuk lifted one corner of his mouth and looked away, rubbing at an eyebrow.

 

“Can you tell?”

 

“…”

 

“Just a little. It's been one of those days that's hard to get through sober.”

 

He spoke almost to himself, then tossed away the cigarette and dragged a hand down his face. Leaning against the wall with his head tilted, he looked down at I-hyeon. His eyes seemed darker than usual.

 

I-hyeon felt that if he kept looking into them, everything he had hidden might somehow be stripped bare. He was just averting his gaze when Seung-hyuk's well-shaped lips opened and his low, husky voice sounded.

 

“Kwon I-hyeon. You're the only person I know who goes to church and all that, so let me ask you something.”

 

“…”

 

“If somebody's sinned, can they repent and confess everything and still go to heaven?”

 

“You know, absolute human rubbish. People who were abandoned by their parents the moment they were born. Guys who go around beating and killing other people. It'd be a bit strange if they could all pray and end up in heaven too, wouldn't it?”

 

I-hyeon raised his head at the unexpected question. Seung-hyuk was touching his ear and looking away to one side. His gaze was fixed on the flurries of snow, as dry and bare as a dead branch, or perhaps as despairing as that of someone staring at ruins.

 

When I-hyeon remained silent, Seung-hyuk continued:

 

“I mean, if I were a decent person, I'd feel a bit cheated.”

 

“…”

 

“You'd have spent your whole life trying to live well without doing anything wrong. Then after you died, you'd have to share the same place with those pieces of shit. Doesn't seem very fair, does it?”

 

At that moment, a snowflake fell from the sky and landed on Seung-hyuk's cheek. It melted in an instant and ran down his face like a tear.

 

I-hyeon's fingers twitched involuntarily. Before he could move, Seung-hyuk wiped the moisture away with the back of his hand.

 

“When I think of it like that, I suppose there's no hope for me.”

 

Looking down at his empty hand, Gu Seung-hyuk seemed precariously close to breaking, as though he were holding something in with all his strength. But before I-hyeon could say anything, Seung-hyuk wiped the expression from his face and laughed bitterly at himself.

 

“Forget it. Here I am bothering someone who's ill with all this nonsense.”

 

Apparently deciding it was time to leave, he pushed away from the wall and picked up something at his feet. He held it towards I-hyeon.

 

“Oi, take this inside.”

 

“It'll be cold by now,” he added with a click of his tongue.

 

In his hand was a shopping bag that looked fairly heavy. A large logo from a chain specialising in rice porridge was printed on the side. Despite recognising it, I-hyeon asked:

 

“…What's that?”

 

“Porridge and medicine and stuff. You said you were ill.”

 

The flimsy excuse he had blurted out to avoid mentoring now felt like a sharp point digging into his conscience. He desperately hoped Seung-hyuk had not been waiting here until this hour just to give him the bag.

 

Unable to bring himself to reach for it, I-hyeon lowered his head. His eyes fell on a dark stain covering the lower part of Seung-hyuk's left trouser leg.

 

From below the knee, the fabric was blotched a deep reddish black. It was far too dark to be nothing more than rainwater. I-hyeon was staring at it when Seung-hyuk, who had been standing with his weight on his other leg, shifted his stance.

 

The faint metallic smell of blood that had hung in the air suddenly grew strong. I-hyeon's eyes widened.

 

“Gu Seung-hyuk… Are you hurt?”

 

“Ah, it's nothing. Don't worry about it.”

 

Seung-hyuk turned his neck from side to side, as unconcerned as ever by I-hyeon's alarmed face. He took I-hyeon's hand and placed the shopping bag in it, then indicated I-hyeon with his chin instead. He frowned down at his shoulders.

 

“Oi, your shoulders are soaked.”

 

“What?”

 

“Get inside, quickly.”

 

As though his business were finished, Seung-hyuk pushed I-hyeon gently by the shoulders and back. I-hyeon found himself standing in front of the gate. By the time he turned, Seung-hyuk had already started away without hesitation.

 

Watching him walk off, taking the sleet full on his body, I-hyeon felt something surge up inside him. Complicated emotions overwhelmed him at the sight of someone who paid no attention to his own injuries yet worried about another person's wet shoulders.

 

To think he had dragged himself here while wounded badly enough to bleed through his trousers, all because of something I-hyeon had said.

 

I-hyeon felt grateful and wretched at once.

 

It was far more consideration than he deserved after his first instinct had been to run away for fear of having his secret discovered. He wondered what Seung-hyuk had been thinking as he quietly waited beneath the dark wall, getting wetter and wetter.

 

“I'm off.”

 

I-hyeon watched Seung-hyuk's retreating back and clenched his fist tightly. Then he closed his eyes and called softly after him.

 

“Gu Seung-hyuk.”

 

It remained a fact that Gu Seung-hyuk was homophobic, just as it remained a fact that I-hyeon was gay. But some secrets were better left hidden.

 

Perhaps it was impossible to build a lie that would last forever. Yet surely he could conceal part of the truth. If he managed that, perhaps things between them could remain the way they were now.

 

He knew he could not keep avoiding Seung-hyuk forever. Yet instead of putting distance between them, he found himself drawn more and more towards erasing and hiding himself.

 

Never before had he wanted to remain beside somebody badly enough to consider doing such a thing.

 

Faced with the first selfish desire of his life, there seemed to be only one choice available to him.

 

All right. I'll hide it, then. I'll keep it hidden to the very end.

 

I-hyeon slowly opened his eyes and spoke.

 

“There's something my dad says to me all the time.”

 

“He says someone like me will never get anywhere near heaven, not in his entire life.”

 

Seung-hyuk, who had been about to take another step, stopped and turned. Because he was backlit, his face was completely lost in shadow. I-hyeon looked straight into the yellow glow pouring from the streetlamp behind him and whispered towards the darkness.

 

“So don't worry.”

 

Even if the only way to stay by your side is to carry this secret for the rest of my life.

 

“Wherever you end up going, I'll go there with you.”

Something heavy dropped to the floor by I-hyeon's feet the following morning as he was getting ready for school. He had been trying to put Seung-hyuk's jacket into a shopping bag. A phone without even a protective case tumbled across the floor.

 

It was a model he had seen Seung-hyuk holding several times.

 

He pressed the button, but the screen would not light up. Perhaps the battery was flat. He wondered whether Gu Seung-hyuk even realised where his phone was. He ought to stop by Seung-hyuk's classroom before going up to his own and give it back along with the jacket.

 

I-hyeon tucked the phone away and hurried to finish getting ready.

 

He arrived at school earlier than usual. In one hand he carried the shopping bag containing Seung-hyuk's jacket. In the other was a warm honey drink he had bought at the convenience store by the school gate a little earlier.

 

Instead of heading towards his own classroom, he turned towards the second-year classes.

 

As he approached Seung-hyuk's room, he saw a student who seemed to have just arrived opening the back door. I-hyeon hurried over, tapped him on the shoulder and glanced inside.

 

“Yes?”

 

The boy turned, but I-hyeon's eyes were fixed on Seung-hyuk's empty desk. Apparently he had not arrived yet. When I-hyeon noticed the boy's questioning look, he rubbed the end of an eyebrow and spoke.

 

“Ah… I was going to ask you to call Gu Seung-hyuk for me, but it looks as though he's not here yet.”

 

The boy glanced towards the back of the classroom and scratched his head.

 

“Gu Seung-hyuk hasn't been coming to school much lately. He turned up late yesterday, after lunch, but I don't know about today.”

 

“Ah…”

 

“Do you want me to leave that on his desk?”

 

The student indicated the shopping bag in I-hyeon's hand. I-hyeon took a step back and shook his head.

 

“No, it's fine. I'll come back later.”

 

The boy looked him up and down indifferently, nodded and went inside. Left alone in the corridor, I-hyeon looked down at the bag. Deciding to try again at lunchtime, he turned away.

 

But when he hurried through lunch and visited Seung-hyuk's classroom again, his desk was still empty. He checked during another break, just in case, with the same result.

 

He was beginning to worry that something might have happened. But since Seung-hyuk's phone was in his possession, he had no way of contacting him first. Come to think of it, he did not even know where Seung-hyuk lived.

 

Should I just keep hold of it for now? He'll be inconvenienced without his phone.

 

He was still worrying about what to do while the rest of his class rushed out at the end of the day when somebody approached and spoke to him.

 

“Kwon I-hyeon, Gu Seung-hyuk wants you to come to the storeroom behind the tuck shop.”

 

I-hyeon looked up in surprise, but the face was unfamiliar. The boy stood awkwardly, avoiding his eyes. When I-hyeon looked at him closely, he said, “I've passed the message on,” and hurried out of the classroom.

 

So he had come to school after all. Why had he sent someone else instead of coming himself? I-hyeon wondered. Then he remembered saying that Seung-hyuk should not come to his classroom.

 

He had said it almost in passing, yet the thought that Seung-hyuk was respecting his request made him feel strange. An unfamiliar tingling spread through him, as though something were crawling just beneath his skin. He sprang to his feet and hurriedly gathered his belongings.

 

There were so many things he wanted to ask. Had Seung-hyuk got his injured leg treated? Was he feeling all right? Why had he arrived at school so late?

 

In some ways, he felt more at ease now than he had during the days when he had been desperately avoiding him.

 

It was a shame the honey drink he had bought that morning was already cold. As he approached the abandoned storeroom behind the tuck shop, I-hyeon pressed down the corners of his mouth, which kept trying to rise of their own accord. Then he pushed the door open.

 

“Oh, you're here, I-hyeon?”

 

But the moment he saw what lay beyond the doorway, his expression went rigid.

 

Sitting on broken desks and chairs and old furniture were Chan-yang and his friends, not Seung-hyuk. Chan-yang was sprawled across the middle of a cracked leather sofa. He broke into a bright smile when he saw I-hyeon's face stiffen.

 

“Wow, Kwon I-hyeon. Didn't know you could make that face. You always look so fucking miserable when you come to see your hyung.”

 

I-hyeon could not control his expression. He had no idea why Chan-yang was here. Clenching his back teeth, he spoke quietly.

 

“…What do you want?”

 

“What do I want? I-hyeon, does your hyung need a reason to call you?”

 

“…”

 

“Don't just stand there. Come and sit down.”

 

There was only one thing I-hyeon could do.

 

Reluctantly, he walked towards Chan-yang, who was patting the space beside him. The moment he sat down a hand's breadth away, Chan-yang wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him tight against his side. The touch over his school uniform made his skin crawl.

 

“Did you bring this for your hyung?”

 

I-hyeon went rigid and tightened his grip on the bottle of honey drink. Chan-yang noticed, and his smile widened.

 

“Ah, no. That's right. It'll be for Gu Seung-hyuk.”

 

Hearing Seung-hyuk's name from Chan-yang's lips made I-hyeon swallow sharply. Chan-yang enclosed I-hyeon's hand in his own, took the bottle and grinned at its nutrition label.

 

“You two seem to meet up a lot after school as well, don't you? Looked pretty cosy last night.”

 

I-hyeon had never tried to hide the fact that he spent time with Seung-hyuk, but he felt deeply uneasy at the thought that Chan-yang had watched them. Chan-yang's strangely excited mood made it worse. Pressing his fingers together tightly, I-hyeon answered:

 

“…That's none of your business, hyung.”

 

“Ha, none of my business? That's hurtful. I'm only surprised you've made a new friend, that's all.”

 

Chan-yang sniggered. The monotonous sound of his laughter seemed ominous.

 

He wound the ends of I-hyeon's hair around one finger. Then he abruptly tugged I-hyeon's head towards himself and brought his mouth close to his ear. There was something insinuating in his amused whisper.

 

“But does he know?”

 

“…”

 

“That you're gay.”

 

The instant the short sentence reached his ear, I-hyeon's heart seemed to drop. He could not breathe. His hands and feet stiffened. Seeing the reaction, Chan-yang pulled back with a meaningless laugh. His expression suggested he found the whole thing unbearably funny.

 

“Come on, I-hyeon. How can anyone be this transparent? I was just having a guess, but if you react like that, I can't even pretend I didn't notice.”

 

Every time he chuckled and patted I-hyeon's shoulder, I-hyeon's heart seemed to plunge lower. Dread and despair welled up inside him.

 

He had been arrogantly optimistic to imagine that he might be able to keep the truth hidden forever simply by being careful himself.

 

I-hyeon could neither confirm nor deny the accusation. He sat frozen, his face drained of colour. Then the phone in his pocket began vibrating insistently.

 

Chan-yang tilted his head when I-hyeon hesitated even to take it out.

 

“What are you doing? Your phone's ringing.”

 

I-hyeon had no choice but to take it out. On the screen was an unfamiliar eleven-digit number. At least it was not a name he recognised. He was about to reject the call when Chan-yang stopped his hand and indicated the phone.

 

“Answer it.”

 

“…”

 

“I said answer it.”

 

I-hyeon desperately hoped it was a wrong number or a nuisance call. Every piece of information Chan-yang learned became another weakness he could exploit.

 

Unfortunately, the voice that came through the speaker belonged to the one person I-hyeon least wanted to hear from at that moment.

 

“Oi, Kwon I-hyeon. I'm outside your classroom, but you're not here. Gone home already?”

 

At the familiar voice, Chan-yang's smile deepened.

 

“I was wondering if you'd brought the clothes I gave you yesterday. You can give those back another time, but could you get my phone out of the pocket for me? Or I'll come and collect it.”

 

Anxiety dried I-hyeon's mouth. Lowering his eyes, he tried to sound calm.

 

“I've got it. But now's not a good time. I'll just bring it tomorrow—”

 

“Why don't you come and get it yourself? It must be inconvenient without your phone.”

 

Chan-yang interrupted before I-hyeon had finished, grinning as he deliberately lowered his face towards the microphone. His voice was bound to carry to the person on the other end.

 

After a brief silence, Seung-hyuk asked flatly:

 

“…Lee Chan-yang?”

 

“Seung-hyuk, not Lee Chan-yang. Chan-yang hyung.”

 

His lighthearted tone did not match the reproach in his words. He looked positively triumphant, as though he had found the perfect opportunity. I-hyeon bit his lip, drenched in tension, while Chan-yang added smoothly:

 

“We're in the storeroom behind the tuck shop. You know where it is, don't you? We won't be here long, so hurry over and get your things.”

 

Without waiting for a reply, Chan-yang ended the call and crossed his legs, settling back against the sofa. A satisfied smile rested on his face.

 

I-hyeon moved his lips, trying to come up with some belated excuse, but his thoughts were as blurred as thick fog. All he could do was grip the handles of the shopping bag and hope desperately that Seung-hyuk would not come. Familiar helplessness tightened around his throat, leaving a sour taste on his tongue.

 

“What, hyung? Gu Seung-hyuk's coming?”

 

Someone grumbled from the side. It was a boy who had been sitting cross-legged on an old bookcase, playing a game on his phone. He climbed down, rolling his neck and arms.

 

“That rude bastard. When we call him, he acts like he can't hear us. But the moment he finds out somebody's got his phone, he comes running.”

 

Then he noticed the shopping bag on I-hyeon's lap and cocked his head.

 

“Oi, what's that you're holding so carefully?”

 

He strode over and snatched the bag in a single movement. Before I-hyeon could react, the boy pulled out the jacket that had been neatly folded inside.

 

I-hyeon frowned and tried to jump to his feet, but Chan-yang pressed hard on his shoulder, forcing him back onto the sofa. I-hyeon twisted free, shook off Chan-yang's hand and glared at the boy.

 

Watching him, the boy smiled slyly and waved his hands in a mocking attempt to calm a wild animal.

 

“Whoa, whoa.”

 

He stretched the jacket out in front of him and examined it.

 

“Fuck me. Oi, isn't this the newest design from some luxury brand? I swear I saw it online for millions of won.”

 

At his exclamation, the others looked up and began gathering round in curiosity. The boy slipped his arms into the sleeves and addressed I-hyeon.

 

“Kwon I-hyeon. Doesn't look like yours. Whose is it?”

 

I-hyeon pressed his lips together and said nothing. The boy shrugged as though it did not matter and happily adjusted the jacket.

 

Then, turning his body as though posing before a mirror, he put one hand into a pocket. His eyebrows rose as he pulled something out.

 

“What's this? A phone?”

 

“Must be Gu Seung-hyuk's jacket.”

 

The voice beside him made I-hyeon grit his teeth. Chan-yang had sat upright and was reaching out. The boy inspected the phone briefly, then lost interest and tossed it lightly to Chan-yang.

 

“Bastard wears some seriously expensive clothes. Oi, how does it look? Suits me?”

 

“Look at the shoulders hanging off you. Are you a fucking clown? Why don't you put some face paint on while you're at it?”

 

“Fuck off and take a picture. Make sure the logo shows.”

 

As the others laughed, raised a camera and struck poses, I-hyeon could only stare at Chan-yang's hand holding Seung-hyuk's phone. He did not even want to imagine what might happen when Seung-hyuk arrived, or what words would be exchanged. Everything ahead seemed dark and hopeless.

 

It was not long before the closed storeroom door opened.

 

At the click, everybody turned towards it. I-hyeon slowly raised his eyes too. Seung-hyuk stood there in casual clothes, his hands in his trouser pockets and his posture slightly crooked.

 

Their eyes met. His expressionless face, impossible to read, remained fixed on I-hyeon, as though the disorder around him was of no interest whatsoever.

 

I-hyeon felt as though Seung-hyuk had caught him in a position he should never have found himself in. He clenched his fist and turned his head. Chan-yang's voice broke the silence.

 

“That was quick.”

 

Chan-yang stopped tossing the phone into the air and catching it. He smiled, glanced at his watch and added:

 

“You must've needed your phone pretty badly to get here so fast.”

 

The words were deliberately mocking, but Seung-hyuk gave a short snort as though he had heard something amusing. Rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek, he answered with a small laugh.

 

“Hardly.”

 

“…”

 

“I came because I had business with him. The phone was just an excuse.”

 

His answer was leisurely, his long yawn making him seem tired and irritable. He rolled his neck from side to side, then looked at I-hyeon and gestured towards the door with his head.

 

“Kwon I-hyeon, come here. Let's go home.”

 

No answer came. I-hyeon merely bit his lip and avoided his eyes. Seeing him sitting motionless with his fists clenched, Chan-yang's mouth curved upwards. He slipped an arm around I-hyeon's waist with a mocking smile.

 

“Sorry about that. Looks as though I-hyeon wants to stay here.”

 

He held Seung-hyuk's phone lightly between thumb and forefinger, swinging it backwards and forwards.

 

“Guess you'll just have to take this.”

 

Seung-hyuk's eyes were not on the phone. They had settled on Chan-yang's hand around I-hyeon's waist. He frowned faintly at the intimate-looking contact, like something between lovers.

 

Noticing where Seung-hyuk was looking, Chan-yang interlaced his fingers with I-hyeon's hand instead.

 

“I-hyeon, your friend's leaving. You ought to at least say goodbye.”

 

Chan-yang held I-hyeon's hand firmly when it tried to curl away and waved it from side to side. The feeling of those fingers twined between his own was repulsive, but I-hyeon was afraid that resisting would make Chan-yang announce to everyone that he was gay. His face grew hot with humiliation.

 

Seung-hyuk raised an eyebrow as I-hyeon turned away, unable to meet his gaze. One corner of his well-shaped mouth twisted.

 

“If you want a teddy bear, hyung, why don't you go to a shop and ask your mum to buy you one? Why drag a boy who's busy with assessments and everything else all the way here?”

 

His cold, derisive voice continued.

 

“I don't particularly care if you can't act your age. But you ought to play with your dolls on your own.”

 

Chan-yang's face contorted into a fierce glare. Seung-hyuk merely gave an incredulous laugh, walked up to I-hyeon and caught his slender wrist, pulling him to his feet.

 

“Honestly, Kwon I-hyeon. You don't look like it, but you're bloody hard work.”

 

At the deliberately audible mutter, I-hyeon swallowed. He had somehow escaped Chan-yang's embrace, but he was not sure it was all right to leave like this. As though answering his unspoken worry, Seung-hyuk headed straight towards the storeroom door.

 

“Oh, oi, Seung-hyuk. Take your jacket. I only tried it on for a bit because it looked nice.”

 

The boys who had been fooling about with it stepped into their path. One of them reluctantly took off the jacket and looked towards Chan-yang, apparently unaware of the tension.

 

“Hyung, don't you want to try it? I reckon it'd look good on you too.”

 

Chan-yang, who had been staring fiercely at I-hyeon and Seung-hyuk, scowled at the boy. Seung-hyuk glanced back at Chan-yang and laughed mockingly.

 

“Why don't you just keep it? You're going to spend the rest of your life scraping around on the streets. When else will you ever get to wear something like that?”

 

Chan-yang's glare turned murderous. Seung-hyuk ignored his distorted expression and took I-hyeon's wrist again, leading him away.

 

A formless anxiety made I-hyeon's fingertips tingle. He took one hesitant step after another. Seung-hyuk was just reaching for the storeroom door handle when a threatening sentence caught I-hyeon from behind.

 

“I-hyeon, you'll regret it if you follow him.”

 

I-hyeon faltered. Chan-yang spoke again towards the back of his head.

 

“You sure you can handle the consequences?”

 

But does he know? That you're gay.

 

Chan-yang's earlier whisper passed through his mind once more. His heart began pounding violently, and sweat gathered in his palms.

 

Seung-hyuk glanced down at I-hyeon's obvious agitation and tilted his head slightly. After clicking his tongue as though considering something, he snorted and raised his eyes.

 

“Consequences are for broke bastards like you with nothing to their name.”

 

“He doesn't have to deal with them.”

 

The hand around I-hyeon's wrist released. At the same instant, warmth settled over the back of his hand. Seung-hyuk covered it with his own and held on. Looking back crookedly, he opened the door.

 

“Because whatever happens to him, wherever it happens, I'll be right there beside him.”

 

The pulse that seemed to begin at the tips of I-hyeon's fingers spread through his veins, filling his whole body. His stomach churned beneath a sensation that tightened around his chest.

 

He struggled to ignore the sound of his own breathing, which seemed to surround his ears as though he were underwater. When he turned his head, he met Chan-yang's gaze, seething with fury. I-hyeon clenched his teeth and looked away.

 

Sunlight poured through the open door and across the dread that threatened to engulf him. Comfort and despair arrived at once.

 

Unable either to tighten his grip on the hand touching his or to pull away from it, I-hyeon followed Seung-hyuk forwards, even as he sensed the darkness that lay beyond.

 

──── 📘📘 ────

 

I-hyeon came to understand what Chan-yang had meant when he said he would regret it during a meal after Sunday worship.

 

Unlike his usual behaviour, Chan-yang had made no particular reaction when he saw I-hyeon at church. He simply followed quietly as I-hyeon went with his mother and father to the restaurant.

 

“Pastor Kwon, thank you so much for joining us today. I know you're busy with the afternoon service as well…”

 

“Not at all. I should be thanking you for arranging such a gathering, Deaconess.”

 

Pastor Kwon, sitting two seats away from I-hyeon, smiled pleasantly as he spoke. In the warm, cheerful atmosphere, the only people sitting with expressionless faces were I-hyeon and Chan-yang.

 

It was common for church members to share a meal after the service, but this was the first time Chan-yang had joined them. After what had happened in the storeroom, even the smallest change in his behaviour filled I-hyeon with dread.

 

He picked at his food and kept glancing towards Chan-yang, who ate as though nothing were wrong. I-hyeon repeatedly wet his dry mouth with water.

 

Conversation flowed without a break across the table. They discussed all manner of things, from recent events in their lives to matters inside and outside the church.

 

I-hyeon spent the whole time with his eyes lowered, scarcely doing more than counting the grains of rice on his plate. Then the deaconess addressed him.

 

“By the way, I-hyeon, how are you finding school? You're at the same school as Chan-yang, aren't you?”

 

He did not welcome the sudden attention from everyone around the table. He particularly disliked feeling his father's gaze on him from the right. Wiping his expression blank, I-hyeon set down his chopsticks and answered.

 

“…Everyone's been kind to me, so I've been getting along without any trouble.”

 

It should have been the end of a routine question and an equally routine answer. It would have been, had Chan-yang not interrupted.

 

“I-hyeon seems to be doing well. I've been worried lately, though. There are some disturbing rumours going around at school.”

 

“Disturbing rumours?”

 

The church members looked up from their food in curiosity. I-hyeon, too, had no idea what Chan-yang intended to say. He weakly gripped his glass of cold water and watched him.

 

“What sort of rumours?” someone asked.

 

Chan-yang lifted one corner of his mouth into a broad smile. The moment their eyes met, a dreadful premonition wrapped itself around I-hyeon. Chan-yang watched his face grow subtly tense, then spoke.

 

“Apparently there are homosexuals at our school. From what I've heard, I think they're in our year.”

 

As soon as Chan-yang finished, both I-hyeon and Pastor Kwon stiffened. I-hyeon's clenched teeth pressed painfully together.

 

Chan-yang had often threatened to tell the people at church and school, but this was the first time he had brought up the subject in this way. Was he really going to expose everything here? I-hyeon began to feel dizzy.

 

“Oh my goodness, really? How awful.”

 

“Children like that shouldn't be allowed to attend school with the others. What are the teachers thinking?”

 

People were throwing in comments one by one, but I-hyeon's attention was entirely on his father. Without once looking at I-hyeon, Pastor Kwon set down his spoon, his expression hard.

 

“I'm sorry to hear something like that has happened at your school.”

 

“If you find out who they are, bring them to church one day.”

 

“I wonder if that would do any good.”

 

At Chan-yang's deliberately provocative mutter, Pastor Kwon frowned. I-hyeon's heart was racing so violently that he could no longer sit and listen. He sprang to his feet, clenched his hands and spoke awkwardly.

 

“I'm really sorry, but I forgot I had an appointment. I'll have to leave early.”

 

He bowed his head to the startled church members and hurried out of the restaurant.

 

Footsteps followed almost immediately. Before I-hyeon could turn to see who it was, somebody seized his arm and dragged him into an empty prayer room beside the corridor.

 

“Well, I-hyeon? Starting to feel real now?”

 

Chan-yang pushed him against the wall and sneered. He seemed to find the situation hilarious, letting out laugh after laugh. I-hyeon wrenched his arm free and shouted at him.

 

“Are you out of your mind, hyung?”

 

“I'm not the one who's out of his mind, I-hyeon. I told you you'd regret it. You thought I wouldn't actually do anything because I always just talked about it, didn't you?”

 

“…”

 

“Telling everyone at church you're a fucking homo would be the easiest thing in the world. But that would put Pastor Kwon in quite an interesting position too, wouldn't it?”

 

Chan-yang was completely relaxed, unlike I-hyeon, who was rigid with fear and humiliation. He took a step closer and bent towards him.

 

“Right now, only your mum and dad know. But what happens if the story spreads? What'll the people at church say about you? What if every student and teacher at school finds out, along with all your friends?”

 

Chan-yang met I-hyeon's eyes and twisted his mouth.

 

“What do you think will happen to you then?”

 

Something seemed to boil up inside I-hyeon. He remembered the punching machine at the arcade.

 

Without thinking, he clenched his fist and swung it towards Chan-yang's face. But Chan-yang ducked aside with ease. He burst out laughing and shrugged.

 

“Wow, Kwon I-hyeon. Spend time with a gangster, and you turn into one yourself, do you?”

 

I-hyeon's shoulders rose and fell with his ragged breathing. His eyes stung painfully as he glared at Chan-yang. Faced with the rare sight of I-hyeon's anger, Chan-yang merely cackled.

 

“I-hyeon, what do you think you're doing? You ought to be on your knees begging me by now.”

 

“Today's just a warning. Your hyung doesn't want to do this either. So how about you start doing what you're told, eh?”

 

Chan-yang turned a chair around and straddled it in one corner of the prayer room. Crossing his legs, he looked up at I-hyeon with a broad grin.

 

“You can't let him find out, can you? Gu Seung-hyuk.”

 

It felt as though I-hyeon's heart had plunged from a great height. He remembered the look of disgust in Seung-hyuk's eyes as he watched the boys fighting in the corridor.

 

They ought to just fucking die instead of making life miserable for everyone else.

 

The memory of that icy voice made I-hyeon step back from Chan-yang and bite hard on his lip.

 

“I wonder if he knows his friend is a fucking homo who likes sleeping with other men.”

 

Chan-yang flicked carelessly through the Bible on the table and clicked his tongue. The rustle of the thin pages turning sounded clearly in the silence. He tilted his head to one side and looked down at the densely printed lines before speaking slowly.

 

“I-hyeon, though…”

 

“…”

 

“Are you sure what you feel for him is friendship?”

 

The meaning of the question reached I-hyeon's mind a moment after the words passed his ears. His eyes met Chan-yang's suddenly raised gaze. I-hyeon's face drained of colour to a degree that could not be compared with before, and he stopped breathing.

 

“…What are you talking about?”

 

He forced out a breath, and the words came in a hoarse rush through clenched teeth. Chan-yang did not miss the disturbance in his eyes. A vile smile spread across his smooth face.

 

“I-hyeon. I know you far too well to just pretend I haven't noticed.”

 

“…”

 

“What are you going to do? Looks like I've figured you out completely.”

 

Thud.

 

It felt as though I-hyeon were falling into an endless abyss.

 

His heart did not merely sink; it plummeted over a cliff. He could feel his clenched hands trembling.

 

Oi, Kwon I-hyeon. Want to be friends?

 

Seung-hyuk's voice, echoing so clearly through that empty corridor, returned to him.

 

He did not know how or why Chan-yang had reached such a conclusion, or what had led him to suspect it. All he wanted was to escape this place immediately. I-hyeon squeezed his eyes shut, struggled for breath and whispered. His voice cracked as though something solid were lodged in his throat.

 

“What do you want?”

 

“I've told you every time. Let me fuck you once.”

 

I-hyeon had never even pretended to listen to Chan-yang's repeated promise to keep quiet if I-hyeon slept with him once. That was because he did not trust him. It was obvious that once would become twice, and twice would become three times.

 

Even so, for the first time, I-hyeon found himself wanting to give in to Chan-yang. He was so tired that he wanted to believe even a lie whose falseness was plain to see.

 

“Think carefully.”

 

“…”

 

“For now, just open your mouth.”

 

Chan-yang stood and approached the silent I-hyeon. He caught his chin and lifted his lowered face, then bent his head and seized I-hyeon's lips with his own.

 

I-hyeon's face burned with humiliation and shame. The cross on one wall of the prayer room seemed to be reminding him that he was a sinner. He could not bring himself to push Chan-yang away. He merely clenched his fists and endured the tongue forcing its way around inside his mouth.

 

After toying with I-hyeon's lips as much as he wanted, Chan-yang drew back only far enough to rest their foreheads together and meet his eyes. I-hyeon looked away; the sight of his own reflection in those black pupils was too wretched to bear.

 

Chan-yang spoke in a low, roughened voice.

 

“Kwon I-hyeon. Keep playing around with Gu Seung-hyuk like that.”

 

“I wonder what sort of face he'll make when he finds out everything. Don't you?”

 

Chan-yang grinned and wiped a finger across I-hyeon's lips. Then he patted his pale cheek a couple of times and stepped back.

 

I-hyeon stood, watching him fling the door open and leave the prayer room with a bang. Then he closed his eyes.

 

Continued in Volume 4.