Yeon Haejeong was lying at the bottom of the staircase with a blank expression on his face. Whether he was asleep or not was impossible to tell, but he looked as though he was simply enjoying a moment to himself. Munyeong didn’t want to disturb him — and more than that, he didn’t want to add more fuel to whatever unpleasant rumors might be circulating — so he carefully began to move away.
Ah, fuck, that insufferable bastard.
The group that had been making his life difficult was bouncing a basketball and heading this way.
What’s he got to be so full of himself about.
…Well, he does have money. Did you see his shoes? All limited edition designer, one after another.
So what. Why don’t you go crawl over and beg him for one?
No, I’m just saying, is all.
Still apparently stinging from being dismissed by Haejeong, they were scrunching their faces into ugly looks and muttering curses under their breath. Munyeong was about to slip away again before he could be noticed.
Hey. Hey.
They had spotted Haejeong lying there asleep. Their eyes lit up like they’d found prey. The one bouncing the basketball jabbed his friend in the side with a knowing grin. Then they started exchanging looks among themselves. Reading those looks, Munyeong’s eyes narrowed with sharp unease.
We slam it into him and run.
One of them mouthed it like a secret and began hoisting the basketball up with both hands as hard as he could wind up. Without even a moment to think, Munyeong sprinted down the steps. His eyes were fixed entirely on the basketball being aimed straight at Haejeong — and he immediately threw himself in front of him. He’d done it before his mind had even caught up. It was the moment he truly felt in his body what it meant for instinct to be faster than thought.
Thwack——!
Ugh!
Munyeong took the basketball directly to the face and immediately brought both hands up to cover it. Every muscle across his face felt like it had been severed — he crumpled to the ground, groaning.
Shit, that crazy bastard——
Hey, hey, run.
The one who’d failed to hit his target shot Munyeong a vicious glare — but then another one of them gave him a sharp nudge in the side and jerked his head in warning, and they scattered.
It hurts so much……
As a little time passed, the pain grew even worse and he couldn’t get a single word out. Something warm was running down from beneath his nose. Dark red blood had begun dripping in slow drops onto the dirt ground — but the pain felt as though his nose might be broken, so intense that Munyeong couldn’t spare a thought for the blood pouring out of it. He just sat there heaving, letting out broken sounds of pain. His frail body trembled. At that moment, an enormous shadow fell over him. Cradling his nose and the skin above his lip, he slowly raised his head — and there was Yeon Haejeong, his face silhouetted against the light, looking down at him. That shadowed face looked cold and eerie as a grim reaper, and Munyeong felt a dry swallow slip down his throat involuntarily.
Ah……. He’s angry.
He could feel it instinctively.
**
A sharp, antiseptic smell drifted past his nose. The school nurse seemed to be away — there was no one in the room. Quiet sunlight fell across the white bed, and the curtains swayed gently in the cool breeze. The soft, steady hum of a humidifier filled the stillness.
Munyeong sat perched on the edge of the bed, a wad of tissue stuffed into his nose, and slowly tilted his head up. There was Yeon Haejeong, looking down at him with an expression of clear disapproval. He had followed him here of his own accord and was doing nothing at all — just staring steadily down at him without end.
The displeasure and irritation living in those eyes felt like it might crush him flat, so Munyeong dropped his head again. It was Haejeong who broke the quiet silence first.
Why did you take the hit for me?
Haejeong’s face said he genuinely could not understand it. The dissatisfaction radiated toward Munyeong so plainly that he apologized without a word of protest.
…S, sorry……
The reflex apology made Haejeong let out a disbelieving breath. It dissolved quickly into a low, dark laugh. He laughed softly enough to shake his shoulders, and swept a contemptuous look up and down at him.
…You really.
His eyes narrowed. A look that said don’t tell me landed on him directly.
Do you actually like me?
Haejeong’s face was beyond exasperated — it was close to outright appalled. Even as he asked it, he seemed to find the fact that he was asking it ridiculous, and kept letting out low, incredulous laughs.
Munyeong, caught in an instant, felt his words dry up completely and his mouth refused to open. He hadn’t expected this — something so blunt, so direct, delivered all at once. Munyeong couldn’t hide the flustered look on his face and dropped his head low.
Hey. I’m asking you.
But Haejeong didn’t let up and asked again.
The one who keeps shoving pathetic stuff into my locker every day — that’s you too, isn’t it?
Pathetic stung. He’d gone out of his way to find out what the kids at the facility liked — breads from the bakery they loved, drinks that were trending lately — and had put only good things in there. He had never once put anything weird in that locker.
……It, it’s not weird……
Fuck, if you’re not going to eat it why do you keep stuffing it in there?
Haejeong shot back with a sharp, ugly scowl. Munyeong made another small, sullen apology.
……Sorry.
His own idea of showing gratitude had apparently come across as sloppy to the other person. Munyeong fidgeted helplessly, turning his own hands over and over in his lap.
Why’d you go and take that ball to the face, you idiot.
Haejeong stepped one pace closer and looked over Munyeong’s bloodied face with a furrowed, scrutinizing gaze. Under the blunt stare, Munyeong visibly turned red and looked away. At the flush that spread across his face so quickly, Haejeong let out another disbelieving breath.
…You do know I’m a guy, right?
It was a reaction that made it obvious to anyone watching that Munyeong was completely flustered by him — and Haejeong asked back with a look that said he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.
……Y, yeah… I know.
You know, my ass. This is unbelievable. What did I even do for your face to go that red.
…Sorry……
Stop saying sorry and answer me straight.
…….
……Do you actually like me?
He was asking with the kind of certainty that already knew the answer. Munyeong thought there was no way out anymore. Dragged along by the relentless interrogation — as though confessing under pressure — he answered with a shrunken, defeated look. His voice barely crawled out of his mouth, so small it would be easy to miss if you weren’t listening closely.
……Yeah. I like you.
He knew it was insane. He wasn’t expecting anything from that answer, not a single thing. But he felt he couldn’t lie about what was in his heart, and back then — young as he was — Munyeong had believed that what he felt was shameless, maybe, but not wrong.
Sorry……
He added it for the other person’s sake, knowing it would be a burden. The other person’s face went quite still and he said nothing for a long moment. Whether he was thinking through his answer, or simply struck speechless by the absurdity of the situation — Munyeong couldn’t tell. He just waited quietly for whatever would come. He’d told himself he’d take it gracefully if Haejeong cursed him out, and he’d take it quietly even if Haejeong hit him — and so he sat with his back straight, hands folded together, waiting. Then the shock on Haejeong’s face slowly settled into something cold. He dragged a hand down his own face and, seeming to have finished his thoughts, rubbed near his chin — and spoke in a voice more detached than Munyeong had ever heard from him.
Hey, Im Munyeong.
A voice like ice water came down on him. All at once the face that had taken the basketball felt like it was hurting even more. Munyeong bowed his head like a person awaiting sentencing instead of saying a word.
Know your place.
…….
Who do you think you are, liking someone like me.
Haejeong said it with genuine, unfiltered contempt. Munyeong, at the anger in those words, dug his own fingernails into his fingertips one by one. His palms grew slick with tension and his heart slammed against his ribs like it was trying to break out.
Does that even make sense coming from you?
…….
…In all my life, of all the……
…….
I let you off easy a couple of times out of pity, and now I’m a joke to you, is that it.
