“How’s your grandmother doing?”
“Fine.”
“And do you have any plans after graduation?”
Dooyoung fidgeted with his fingers clasped in front of his stomach. This was the topic he hated most. He’d never really thought about what he wanted to do with his future. Grades, university — none of it interested him. Not everyone who went to university succeeded. Better to get into a factory and earn money instead.
The homeroom teacher sighed and shook his head. Dooyoung picked at the nails he’d been chewing on all day and avoided the teacher’s gaze, which he was sure was full of contempt.
“You need to succeed and be good to your grandmother. You can’t give up on studying this early. Nobody else is going to take responsibility for your life. If you were born with a silver spoon I’d leave you alone — but I’m saying this for your sake, so don’t take it the wrong way, okay? Every outcome has a cause behind it, that’s what I believe. You have to overcome it. Overcome it and succeed. All of this becomes the fertilizer for your life. Don’t shrink — face it head on. Straighten your back, make eye contact with people. Now that you’ve heard me, you can go. Class is about to start.”
Out of the teachers’ office, Dooyoung leaned against the wall beside the door and stared blankly down the corridor spread out in front of him. That man had never once genuinely thought about him. Neither had the second-year homeroom teacher. Or the first-year one.
It didn’t matter. He had never once begged anyone to understand his pain.
The problem child at this school wasn’t the delinquent crew. It was the outcast, Heo Dooyoung. Protecting the outcast meant having a lot to lose. Protecting the bullies meant a bright future ahead. The chairman of the board’s grandson. The son of a pastor whose congregation pulled from politics and business. That was what Lee Juhak was.
What school had taught him was resignation. Adults looked and pretended not to see, listened and pretended not to hear — told him friends fight and that’s how you grow, don’t blow things out of proportion — and treated everything that had happened to him as a fever every student catches, something unremarkable.
But, sir.
I.
I don’t have any friends.
His chest felt hollow in a way he couldn’t name, and he rubbed his flat stomach with one hand.
“Hungry, maybe……”
He murmured it quietly and made his way up the stairs. He reached the floor with his classroom and stopped at the sight of the door closed on both sides. Walking through a closed door was its own ordeal. Just imagining the sound of the door and every student turning to look at him at once was enough to make cold sweat break out in a rush.
He lingered in front of the door and took several slow breaths. The moment his hand settled gently on the handle —
“What are you doing?”
A voice came from behind him without warning and Dooyoung jumped. He turned around and Hong Seungpyo’s face was right there, and he startled all over again.
Nearly scared out of his skin, Dooyoung pressed his palm to the area near his heart and backed away — but didn’t get far before his back hit the door. Hong Seungpyo straightened from his slight lean and slid his hands into his pockets. His odd, lingering gaze on Dooyoung didn’t waver as he spoke.
“What have you been doing? You weren’t opening the door.”
The way he said it made it sound like he’d been watching him for a while.
Hong Seungpyo studied Dooyoung’s eyes and asked,
“Do you wear contacts?”
At the comment about his eye color, Dooyoung dropped his head and shook it. Then he noticed one of Hong Seungpyo’s shoes was dirty. He must have stepped on it when he jumped earlier without realizing.
Dooyoung glanced at Hong Seungpyo, looked back down, glanced again, then looked away. At the baffling sequence of looks, Hong Seungpyo smiled gently.
“What is it. Say it if you have something to say. I’ll answer nicely.”
“I… sorry……”
“For what? For raiding my apartment in the morning?”
What on earth was that supposed to mean. Was he talking about the towel? Dooyoung had been standing there in a daze, and now his eyes slowly went wide. Hong Seungpyo remembered what happened in the early hours. He’d been drunk out of his mind — Dooyoung had assumed he wouldn’t remember any of it.
Then Hong Seungpyo’s hand grazed lightly across the back of Dooyoung’s neck and dropped away. The unexpected touch made Dooyoung flinch hard — he slapped a hand over the back of his neck and pressed himself flat against the door. At the dramatic reaction, Hong Seungpyo blinked a few times, then smiled lazily. He held up a single strand of hair and let it drift in the air.
“Getting this. It was stuck.”
Dooyoung dug his nails into the bag of snacks he was clutching to his chest like a shield. He was embarrassed at himself for overreacting. Then Hong Seungpyo reached out again and wrapped an arm around Dooyoung as if to pull him close. Dooyoung tensed up, but he didn’t startle the way he had before.
Hong Seungpyo moved close enough that his breath could have grazed him, and tilted his head slightly, his precise lips parting.
“Planning to open the door next year, maybe?”
And then he shoved it wide open. Dooyoung, who had been leaning against it, nearly toppled backward — Hong Seungpyo’s firm arm caught him before he went down. Dooyoung darted back to his seat like a cat doing late-night calisthenics. Settling into his own familiar spot brought a small measure of peace.
Then the self-reproach came rolling in like a tide and he jabbed his thigh with the tip of his mechanical pencil. Hong Seungpyo definitely had a habit of giving you the wound and then the remedy both. He didn’t want to talk to him, and yet they kept ending up face to face.
He couldn’t let himself be taken in by the kindness these people showed. He had to keep a clear head. Because if he didn’t, the one who ended up irreparably broken would be him.
Lunch break ended and classes resumed. With the college entrance exam not far off, the free study period made the classroom quieter than usual.
Lulled by the stillness, Dooyoung drifted off — and woke up to the noise around him. He rubbed his eyes roughly and stretched on the inside. When he checked the time, the last class was five minutes from being over.
The homeroom teacher, all boisterous energy, drew a row of boxes on the board and said,
“Homeroom’s going to run long today so swap quickly.”
Seat reassignment had begun. Dooyoung moved his desk with little enthusiasm. The college exam was practically here and winter break right after that — he couldn’t understand the point of changing seats now. And of all spots, his new one was the back window seat, the easiest target for Lee Juhak to steal.
Once the classroom had settled into its new arrangement, the logic behind it became clear. Students who disrupted study time had been separated or isolated from each other. Dooyoung wondered, as he sorted his bag, which category he fell into — he wasn’t a model student, but he wasn’t a delinquent either. Probably the latter, he figured. He was a nuisance either way.
Seat-swapping was still in full swing when the impatient homeroom teacher launched straight into homeroom announcements. Dooyoung was in the middle of shouldering his bag when the scent of forest wrapped around him all at once — and his head came up stiff as an unlubricated wooden puppet.
His new seatmate was Hong Seungpyo. Already seated, he let their eyes meet and pulled his lips into an easy curve. Something flickered in his gaze. Like the single star left alone in a night sky.
“Hey. Seatmate.”
The forced pleasantry delivered in that drowsy voice left Dooyoung unable to respond at all. Hong Seungpyo, looking entirely unbothered, draped himself over his chair like a jellyfish. Then he nudged the seat in front of him repeatedly with one long leg.
Watching the owner of that seat unable to say a word about it left a stale taste in Dooyoung’s mouth for no particular reason. Hong Seungpyo’s face, glimpsed from the side, was impassive. He had the air of someone who knew perfectly well that no one would ever talk back to him.
Near the end of homeroom, the teacher pointed to an empty desk that had been pushed to the back and said,
“Whose desk is that?”
“Lee Juhak’s and Kim Jinho’s.”
“Those little bastards skipped again.”
Lee Juhak had restless feet and couldn’t sit in one place long. Kim Jinho was better about it, but true to form, he’d left after fourth period. Dooyoung looked down bitterly at the bag of snacks sitting on his thigh. The whole trip to the teachers’ office in the other building had been for nothing.
“Just eat them.”
Hong Seungpyo, who had been quiet, said it flatly.
Dooyoung ran his tongue over his dry lips and answered carefully.
“They’re not mine……”
“Didn’t you go get them?”
“It wasn’t… my money.”
“Who cares. Just eat them.”
Easy for him to say. Different situation, different position.
Dooyoung shook his head firmly and faced forward. After a moment the seat beside him was too quiet, and curiosity won out — he snuck a one-eyed glance sideways. Hong Seungpyo was on his phone and didn’t look at Dooyoung, but said “What.” with complete indifference.
Does he have eyes in the side of his head? Dooyoung shook his head again and swung his bag onto his shoulder — and the long strap swung right into Hong Seungpyo’s shoulder.
“S — sorry.”
