Haejun put on an innocent act, saying he’d been wondering where it went and that it had been in here all along.
“Cut the bullshit and clean it up properly. And after homeroom dismissal, come to the counseling room so you and I can have a nice, cozy little talk.”
“Can I exercise my right to refuse?”
“Then the teacher will exercise the right to summon your parents.”
Once the homeroom teacher left, Haejun clicked his tongue and tossed the egg carton into the trash. Watching the situation quietly, Wonseok crooked his finger and beckoned him over. After whispering back and forth with Wonseok, Haejun reached into the trash can, pulled out one of the eggs, and handed it to him.
“Item acquired.”
Yi-hyeon heard every word of their whispered exchange clearly.
***
The bell signaling the end of the drowsy fifth period rang.
Out of habit, Yi-hyeon turned his head and stole a glance at Han Jun’s seat. The very back row by the window, where the sunlight poured in most generously. With his eyes closed, Han Jun sat there as the curtain’s shadow swayed gently across his face. When the shadow slipped away, his skin gleamed so brightly it almost seemed to glow on its own; when the shadow fell again, even from a distance, the sharp outline of his high nose stood out distinctly.
The relaxed curve of his lips as he slept was harmonious enough to inspire a sense of calm. It was the face Yi-hyeon had grown most accustomed to seeing while living as Louis.
Yi-hyeon wasn’t the only one casting furtive glances at Han Jun.
“How the fuck does he sleep like that and still get first place?”
“Guys like that are obvious. He studies his ass off at home. Uses expensive private tutors and all.”
Wonseok lounged back with his hands shoved into his pockets, his chair tilted fully against the backrest, shooting frequent glares at Han Jun with an openly irritated expression.
Not wanting to get caught by Wonseok, Yi-hyeon had no choice but to rein in how often he looked.
But the moment he sensed movement from Han Jun’s seat, Yi-hyeon’s neck reflexively turned again. Han Jun stretched broadly, then gulped down the coffee he’d brought in his tumbler like it was life-saving water—and their eyes met.
“Wow, the weather’s really nice today. Right, Youngju?”
Afraid Han Jun might think he’d been staring, Yi-hyeon hurriedly turned his gaze and blurted out a comment to Youngju, the student sitting behind him, who’d also ended up meeting his eyes. Looking utterly uninterested, Youngju shoved his textbook toward him.
“If you’ve got time to admire the weather, then explain this problem again. I didn’t understand a damn thing the teacher said.”
Vaguely aware that Han Jun was still looking at him, Yi-hyeon quickly focused on the problem Youngju held out.
“So, this is a reflexive pronoun, which means……”
As Yi-hyeon diligently explained the solution, Han Jun’s scent gradually drifted farther away from his nose. Startled, Yi-hyeon lifted his head—and when he realized Han Jun was gone from the classroom, he stood up from his seat to follow him.
At that, Youngju grabbed his arm, wearing a puzzled expression.
“Where are you going in the middle of an explanation?”
“I think I left the gas stove on at home.”
“What kind of bullshit excuse is that?”
So focused on Han Jun that he barely had the presence of mind to worry about retaliation from Wonseok, Yi-hyeon tossed out a flimsy excuse and immediately chased after Han Jun.
Like following the trail of biscuits dropped by siblings in a fairy tale, Yi-hyeon followed the scent Han Jun had left behind—only to come to an abrupt stop at the restroom. The nauseating smell creeping upward made him instinctively step back.
His stomach churned, and Yi-hyeon wanted nothing more than to turn around and leave—but the image of Wonseok, who had pocketed the rotten egg earlier and was plotting to screw Han Jun over, flashed through his mind. He pinched his nostrils tightly shut with his fingers.
Then, forcing himself through the stench that threatened to make him vomit, Yi-hyeon trudged into the restroom.
Looks like he’s inside……
Three students were standing at the urinals, and the stall at the very end was locked. Yi-hyeon knew about Wonseok’s plan, but he couldn’t openly reveal that he’d figured it out. They’d been standing quite far apart, and all their words had been exchanged in whispers.
Isn’t there some way I can let Han Jun know—just him—without making it obvious?
If he told him out loud, the students behind them would hear and go running straight to Wonseok. If only he’d brought a scrap of paper to write a note.
Needing to warn Han Jun indirectly that Wonseok was targeting him, Yi-hyeon was just about to turn back to fetch a note—when he locked eyes with Wonseok entering the restroom.
Knowing Wonseok’s objective, Yi-hyeon couldn’t help but flinch.
Wonseok eyed Yi-hyeon—standing there stiff as a deer in headlights—with a slanted, hostile gaze and snapped,
“What’re you looking at?”
“Wasn’t looking. I came to take a shit.”
“Did anyone ask? Fucking gross oversharing.”
So there was no time to go get paper.
Left with no choice, Yi-hyeon decided to DM Han Jun while avoiding Wonseok’s gaze and slipped into the slightly open stall next to him. But what was this? The absurd scene unfolding before his eyes left Yi-hyeon standing there, mouth agape, one hand still shoved into the pocket holding his phone.
It seemed the person hiding behind the door was just as shocked.
Han Jun—who hadn’t expected Yi-hyeon to rush in—had been hiding behind the door and jolted, his eyes widening dramatically.
Still wearing a stunned expression, Han Jun heard Wonseok’s voice approaching and quickly pressed a finger to Yi-hyeon’s lips, signaling him to stay quiet. With two people squeezed into the narrow space while avoiding the toilet bowl, unavoidable closeness followed.
Understanding the signal, Yi-hyeon nodded, then used one hand to push the door shut and lock it. Only then did the space feel marginally less cramped—though calling it a suitable hiding spot for a 190-centimeter-tall man would’ve been a stretch. To keep Han Jun from feeling uncomfortable, Yi-hyeon pressed his back against the opposite wall, blinking rapidly with wide eyes.
Han Jun pulled out his phone and started typing. Then he showed Yi-hyeon what he’d written in the DM input window.
—[That bastard followed me because he’s planning something, right?]
Huh? How did he know?
Just like Han Jun, Yi-hyeon took out his phone and typed.
[I’m not totally sure, but he picked up a rotten egg earlier]
Yi-hyeon shared only enough information not to arouse suspicion.
The dark eyes that had been fixed on Yi-hyeon’s phone rolled slowly upward to his face. Had Han Jun sensed something suspicious despite how roundabout Yi-hyeon had been? It wasn’t impossible—Han Jun was sharp enough to pick up on the fact that Wonseok intended to harm him.
Nervous, Yi-hyeon swallowed hard, watching the long, straight fingers typing on the phone.
—[What about you?]
Yi-hyeon lifted his gaze from the screen to look at Han Jun, unsure what he meant. Seeming to understand Yi-hyeon’s confusion, Han Jun typed another message.
—[You said you came to take a shit. You not gonna go?]
It had been a spur-of-the-moment excuse to avoid Wonseok’s suspicion. But being asked so bluntly about his bodily functions sent a warm flush rushing to Yi-hyeon’s face.
—[If you need to go, I won’t look]
He didn’t need to go at all. And even if he did, how was he supposed to do that in such a cramped space, filling it with smell?
[I don’t need to]
—[Then?]
A faint, teasing smile tugged at the corner of Han Jun’s lips.
Even knowing Han Jun was messing with him, Yi-hyeon answered honestly.
[I followed you]
—[Why?]
[Because you helped me earlier, and I was worried Seo Wonseok might retaliate against you]
—[You were worried about me?]
The moment Yi-hyeon saw the words on Han Jun’s screen, his throat went bone-dry. They were just letters on a phone, yet they felt ticklish, like a whispered voice brushing against his ear.
As he found himself wanting to scratch the back of his neck for no reason, shhk, shhk—the sound of slippers dragging across the floor approached the stall where Yi-hyeon was hiding.
Holding even his breath, Yi-hyeon stared at the stall door—when Han Jun’s arm suddenly wrapped around his shoulders. Startled by the sudden contact, Yi-hyeon turned his head and found Han Jun’s sharply defined face stopping just inches from his own.
They were so close that, had he leaned in just a little more, Yi-hyeon’s lips would’ve brushed Han Jun’s cheek.
Han Jun leaned closer to Yi-hyeon and pointed with his finger toward the stall that had been locked earlier. Then, facing the stiff, frozen Yi-hyeon, he silently mouthed the words with his lively, glossy lips.
Science teacher’s next door.
The science teacher was infamous for blatant favoritism and for harassing students he disliked all the way until graduation—earning him a particularly bad reputation.
