Han Jun cut Yi-hyeon off. As if he already knew that no matter what he heard, it would just be another apology anyway.
Looking at Han Jun’s back as he stood up and walked toward the lockers, Yi-hyeon didn’t insist any further. He knew that saying anything more would only sour Han Jun’s mood. Yi-hyeon answered with an “Okay,” deliberately folding his emotions down a layer, then returned to his seat and grabbed his science textbook.
Still, he felt so sorry and so wronged that his eyes welled up with tears. After picking up his science book, Han Jun walked back over to Yi-hyeon. He crouched down beside the desk and peered into Yi-hyeon’s face, which was bent low with his head hanging.
“Hey. Are you crying?”
“I’m not.”
Yi-hyeon’s voice trembled faintly.
“Ah, seriously. If you keep bawling like this, going on about how it’s your fault and how you messed up, I’m seriously not going to care about your business anymore, okay? And I’ll walk home alone from now on—and I’m not making pasta for you either.”
“You’re… If you’re going to comfort me, then do it properly. What kind of comfort is that?”
Feeling even more wronged, Yi-hyeon cut himself off mid-sentence, his lips twitching.
After barely managing to calm himself down, Yi-hyeon headed to the science lab together with Han Jun.
Yi-hyeon quietly stared at the two shadows reflected on the paved walkway. As they walked, the shadows would sometimes overlap and merge into one, and whenever that happened, his fingertips twitched for no reason. Without Han Jun noticing, Yi-hyeon bent the arm that had been stuck to his side slightly outward. The shadows now looked as if they were holding hands.
I don’t even know if there’s any space left in my head for English vocabulary anymore. These days, it’s just full of you.
Sneaking glances at Han Jun’s hand while wiggling his fingers slightly, Yi-hyeon let out a hollow sigh and clenched his hand into a tight fist.
He had no idea why that foolish idiot—who couldn’t even comfort someone properly—was so damn likable. For the sake of Han Jun, who was overly kind and endlessly meddlesome, Yi-hyeon thought he needed to become stronger himself.
***
Han Jun told Yi-hyeon that he’d bought a new phone and asked him to help pick out a case. After lunch, the two of them sat on a bench behind the school, scrolling through an online shopping mall. Rather than focusing on which case was better, Yi-hyeon’s thoughts were fixated on why the phone had disappeared in the first place.
“How about this one?”
“……That’s a completely different model.”
“Ah, sorry.”
He said the conversation where Wonseok threatened to mess with me was recorded, right? Then isn’t it possible that Wonseok stole the phone?
And maybe the reason he smashed Han Jun over the head with a baseball bat was to take the phone while he was unconscious.
“What are you thinking about? Something like, ‘My heart’s pounding because there’s a ridiculously handsome guy next to me’?”
Han Jun, sitting beside him, rested his chin on his hand and tilted his head as he looked at Yi-hyeon.
“That’s not it. No, I’m not saying you’re not ridiculously handsome—you are. What I meant was, I wasn’t thinking that. That’s why I said it wasn’t that, but—”
Flustered, Yi-hyeon rambled on, but at least he made sure to clearly add, “Don’t get the wrong idea.”
Han Jun snorted with laughter, then let out a low “Ah…” and pressed his forehead with his large hand.
“So that means I do look handsome to you.”
Yi-hyeon nodded.
“Alright. Then tell me what you were just thinking about, and I won’t misunderstand.”
With no other choice, Yi-hyeon told Han Jun exactly what had crossed his mind.
“What, that’s what you were thinking about? I told you not to worry about it.”
“How can I not?”
“You’re right. That day, Seo Wonseok took my phone.”
“Really?”
Yi-hyeon asked, eyes widening.
“Yeah. But he says he threw it away.”
“Threw it away? Where?”
“He said he pulled it out right there while I was unconscious and tossed it into a trash can. When I went to check, it was already clean—probably collected.”
“What a complete bastard.”
“Oh? You know how to swear now?”
“Don’t tease me. I’m being serious.”
“You look like a soft rice cake, but you’re always ‘being serious,’ huh.”
If only they still had the phone that recorded Wonseok talking about retaliating against him, Yi-hyeon thought he might have been able to be recognized as a victim too—and maybe even attend Han Jun and Wonseok’s school violence committee hearing as a witness. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Especially since, although Wonseok had harassed Yi-hyeon repeatedly, he’d never left behind any concrete evidence. There was a high chance that verbal statements alone wouldn’t be accepted as proof of school violence.
“And instead of constantly thinking about that kind of stuff, just think about me. Like, why is Han Jun so handsome? Why is Han Jun so kind? Why is Han Jun so good to me?”
“I think about that all the time.”
Yi-hyeon answered mechanically, then tilted his head in confusion before his eyes widened as he turned to look at Han Jun.
“Huh?”
“Hm?”
Han Jun was looking at Yi-hyeon with a smile lingering on his lips.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“What isn’t, now?”
“Ah, I think I answered wrong because I was spacing out. I didn’t mean that kind of thinking—I meant the thinking where you told me to think about English vocabulary every day, that—”
“Alright, alright. Since you’ve been thinking so hard, you must’ve memorized all the English words I told you to, right?”
Han Jun spoke as he pulled out the English workbook he’d been rolling up and tucking into his waistband. Yi-hyeon snapped his parted lips shut and blinked his big eyes rapidly. Since his head had been completely filled with Han Jun lately, he’d totally forgotten about the study talk from Han Jun’s house.
“We’re doing a pop quiz starting now. Flick on the forehead for every wrong answer—deal?”
Han Jun smiled brightly as he flicked his long fingers through the air. Even though he hadn’t been hit, Yi-hyeon’s forehead stung as if he had, and he rubbed it with the back of his hand.
***
“Wow—what the hell are you?”
Fortunately, Yi-hyeon didn’t get a single question wrong. Since he’d spent nearly a month in the hospital, he hadn’t been able to keep up with the class pace, but his foundational skills were solid. Han Jun stared blankly at the graded slip, then neatly folded it and slipped it between the pages of the workbook.
“You haven’t even learned numbers 5 and 17 yet—so how did you get them right? And number 6—I wrote down American slang just to mess with you. Why did you get that right too?”
There was clear disappointment in Han Jun’s voice—he’d even resorted to petty tricks just to tease Yi-hyeon, and still failed.
“Am I really supposed to be the one teaching you? Shouldn’t you be teaching me instead?”
“No. I just guessed by accident.”
“Don’t talk nonsense. Who accidentally guesses the meaning of English words they’ve never learned? And words they don’t even use normally, at that.”
As Yi-hyeon smiled awkwardly, Han Jun brushed aside the bangs covering his forehead and leaned his face in close.
“What?”
Yi-hyeon asked, pulling back slightly.
“I lost, so hit me. Not too hard—don’t want to kill my brain cells.”
Yi-hyeon’s gaze locked onto the neat eyebrows beneath Han Jun’s smooth forehead. He swallowed dryly, trying to soothe his parched throat. Unaware—or perhaps fully aware—of Yi-hyeon’s about-to-burst emotions, Han Jun went even further and gently closed his eyes.
Han Jun’s eyes were longer and deeper than most people’s, giving him a refreshingly clear look. Maybe he was a little tense, worried it might hurt. His long, neatly arranged eyelashes trembled slightly, which made him look cute.
Afraid something impulsive might happen, Yi-hyeon lightly pushed Han Jun’s shoulder, which was so close to him.
“I never agreed to that bet, so there’s no need to hit you—”
Yi-hyeon didn’t want to hit Han Jun. Not even if it was just a forehead flick. He didn’t want to be the one to hurt him in any way.
“What are you talking about? You took the test after I said it—so that means you agreed.”
“I didn’t exactly agree—”
“Ah, hurry up. The bell’s about to ring.”
Han Jun urged him on, saying his arm was starting to go numb from holding his bangs back. With no choice, thinking he’d at least brush past him lightly, Yi-hyeon curled his thumb and middle finger together. He moved to gently flick Han Jun’s forehead—then loosened his hand instead.
Ugh, I seriously can’t do it.
He should tell him he wasn’t going to hit him and to open his eyes. But Han Jun’s face, eyes tightly shut and lips relaxed, looked so lovely that Yi-hyeon couldn’t bring himself to speak—wanting just a little longer to keep looking.
Maybe a bit of Mi-Yiyeong’s knowledge seeped in along with whole ‘turning into a dog’ thing