Han Jun flicked his wrist and hurled the tumbler he’d been holding in his right hand straight at Yi-hyeon.
“Hold this and follow me.”
Knowing full well—from what kids always said—that Han Jun’s newly bought tumbler was an expensive item, Yi-hyeon threw himself forward and hugged the flying tumbler tightly to his chest. Then he trotted along behind Han Jun, who was already walking ahead.
Han Jun glanced back over his shoulder, then, seeing Yi-hyeon scurrying after him while clutching the tumbler like it was treasure, smoothly hid his face behind the mat again.
After moving the mat into place, Han Jun held out his hand. Yi-hyeon hesitated for a moment, then, out of habit, plopped his own hand right on top of it. Han Jun looked down at the small, pale hand resting in his palm and let out a faint, almost imperceptible smile.
“Not that. The tumbler.”
“Ah—sorry.”
Yi-hyeon’s face flushed bright red as he quickly pulled his hand away and looped the tumbler’s handle over Han Jun’s hand instead.
“Wanna drink?”
Even though he was the one who’d moved the mattress, Han Jun didn’t understand why Yi-hyeon was the only one drenched in sweat. As he opened the tumbler lid, he asked him that.
“Is it cold? Then just one sip.”
Probably because he’d inhaled all the dust from the gym storage while organizing the mats, Yi-hyeon’s throat felt dry and scratchy. He accepted the tumbler with both hands. Just as he was about to open the lid, a rich, nutty coffee aroma wafting out, Han Jun suddenly leaned his face in close and spoke.
“Is this that thing?”
Yi-hyeon, who had just put his lips to the tumbler’s mouth, widened his eyes and looked up at Han Jun, wondering what he was getting at. At that exact moment, bitter coffee—with not a single drop of syrup in it—flowed into his mouth.
“An indirect kiss.”
Startled, Yi-hyeon choked, hurriedly pulling the tumbler away as he coughed, “Kuh—!” Brown droplets sprayed onto Han Jun’s face.
Panicking, Yi-hyeon apologized over and over as he tugged at his own shirt and wiped Han Jun’s face. In the process, a stretch of pale belly—either from lack of sun or just how he was born—was exposed.
Noticing several students’ gazes drifting toward that excessively pale stomach, Han Jun slapped Yi-hyeon’s hand away. His tone, unlike before, had a sharp edge to it.
“That’s enough. Stop it.”
“There’s still coffee—”
“Am I your kid or something? Why are you wiping my face?”
“Well, because I got coffee on your—”
Yi-hyeon’s eyes landed on Han Jun’s gym uniform, now stained in blotches.
“It splashed on your uniform too. I’m really sorry. If you take it off after class, I’ll wash it for you.”
“I said it’s fine.”
When Yi-hyeon reached for his wrist, about to insist they swap uniforms right now, Han Jun grabbed it tightly. Frowning deeply, he looked thoroughly annoyed.
Thinking Han Jun was angry because of his mistake, Yi-hyeon didn’t resist. Han Jun squeezed his wrist hard enough it felt like it might break, muttered something about not needing gym clothes since he wouldn’t be participating anyway, then let go and turned away.
“You’re going back to the classroom?”
“No, the infirmary. If I get poked, I’ll get in trouble.”
Han Jun glanced back and winked.
“Why would I poke you? I won’t. Just get some rest.”
Yi-hyeon, who’d just told a student skipping class to “get some rest” without realizing he’d misspoken, stood there blankly watching Han Jun’s back as he climbed the steps.
Having used up all his stamina wrestling with the mats, Yi-hyeon collapsed into the shade of a tree once gym class started. He wiped sweat from the back of his hand and rested.
Ah, seriously… what even is this…?
When Wonseok finally shuffled out late, hands shoved in his pockets, Yi-hyeon found him so unpleasant to look at that he deliberately turned his head away, determined not to even glance in his direction.
“Hey, vaulting horse is canceled. The P.E. teacher went to the hospital ’cause his baby was born. He said we should just play dodgeball among ourselves.”
So that’s why he was late. If something like that happened, he could’ve said so earlier. Yi-hyeon grumbled to himself, annoyed that he’d nearly seen heaven hauling mats for nothing. When Wonseok said he hated something, it really did mean he only ever did things that got under people’s skin.
With no P.E. teacher present, the class president organized the teams.
Yi-hyeon, who was physically weak and always got special treatment during gym, wasn’t exempt this time and had to participate. It seemed the class president hadn’t dared leave him out, probably wary of Wonseok. Not wanting to get the class president targeted because of him, Yi-hyeon didn’t argue.
“Power spike!”
A volleyball slammed into Yi-hyeon’s wrist after being struck by the large, brutal palm of a student from the opposing team—someone from the volleyball club. The ball rebounded with a loud thung! that echoed through the gym as it shot high into the air.
Wonseok, who was on the same team, glared at him sharply.
“Ha—what the hell are you doing? Seriously, Yoon Yi-hyeon, you idiot.”
“He can’t do anything right except study. Fucking bastard.”
“He’s even falling behind in studying too—behind Han Jun.”
“It’s not like Yi-hyeon didn’t try to block it. He blocked it, it just got pushed back.”
Criticism poured down on Yi-hyeon for failing to stop the ball. A few students tried to defend him, but when they saw the vein bulging on Wonseok’s forehead, they shut their mouths.
The ball that had come flying at him just now was far too powerful for Yi-hyeon’s arm to block. Perhaps feeling a twinge of guilt for forcing him into the game, the class president suggested they pull Yi-hyeon out since he wasn’t much help anyway.
“Are you talking bullshit? We’re already short a player ’cause one rat ran off—who do you think we can spare?”
Wonseok rolled his eyes at the class president.
“I can run one more round.”
When Yi-hyeon insisted he was fine, the class president raised the whistle to his mouth again. If he could just endure one more round, he’d be able to escape this hellish court. Gritting his teeth, Yi-hyeon forced himself to focus.
Tweet.
The game resumed.
Thinking he should at least try something before getting pulled out, Yi-hyeon started moving his legs quickly, darting all over the court.
“Ah, fuck. You’re distracting—just stay still.”
After getting snapped at by Wonseok, Yi-hyeon shrank back and froze in place. Memories surfaced—his father, who’d become an alcoholic the moment Yi-hyeon’s mother died, hurling abuse at him. Those words were always followed by fists. As Wonseok grabbed at his clothes and barked at him, unable to control his temper, Yi-hyeon’s body wavered, and a ball even more threatening than the earlier power spike flew straight at Yi-hyeon’s face. Thud! The impact was so strong his head snapped back, and he went sprawling onto the floor.
“Yi-hyeon!”
“Yoon Yi-hyeon!”
Several students rushed toward where he’d fallen.
Through his blurred vision, the first thing Yi-hyeon saw wasn’t someone already nearby, but Han Jun’s face suddenly pushing through the crowd of students, as if he’d appeared out of nowhere.
“Yoon Yi-hyeon!”
In that instant, blood gushed from Yi-hyeon’s nose.
How weak did his body have to be for taking a volleyball head-on to cause a full-on double nosebleed? Even his thoughts felt hazy.
“Use this for now.”
Han Jun took off the gym jacket he was wearing and pressed it against Yi-hyeon’s nose, where blood was pouring out. Then he turned around and offered his solid, straight back. It wasn’t so much that Yi-hyeon climbed onto him—he was half out of it. It’d be more accurate to say the other kids lifted him onto Han Jun’s back.
***
The moment Yi-hyeon opened his eyes, the sharp, stinging smell of disinfectant pricked at his nasal membranes. After checking his condition, the school nurse lightly tapped his nose and spoke.
“Your handsome nose almost got ruined. Be more careful next time.”
Ah. The infirmary.
“Thank you.”
Yi-hyeon replied.
“Save the thanks for the friend who carried you here. Must’ve been rough in this heat.”
The nurse’s gaze shifted to Han Jun, who’d been standing stiffly behind them the entire time Yi-hyeon was being treated. Only then did Yi-hyeon remember Han Jun offering him his back before he lost consciousness, and he offered his thanks.
“Thanks.”
Han Jun, who’d been leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, straightened up and asked,
“You okay?”
“Other than feeling a bit dizzy, yeah. I’m okay.”
Saying it was probably just a temporary symptom from the blood loss, the nurse told Yi-hyeon to rest until the bleeding fully stopped. She added that she’d inform the next subject teacher, then left the infirmary.
