***
Han Jun and Seo Wonseok were kicked out into the hallway side by side for disrupting class and assaulting a fellow student. Yi-hyeon tried to defend Han Jun, saying it was all because of him, but at the art teacher’s remark that striking the back of a classmate’s head was something that deserved punishment no matter what, he had no choice but to shut his mouth.
“Ha, that fucking bastard’s so damn annoying.”
“You’re one to talk.”
“You really wanna die?”
“I feel like I’ve heard that about twenty times already, but judging by the fact that I’m still alive, I guess I’m hard to kill.”
Even after being sent out, the sound of them bickering spilled past the classroom door, so the art teacher made a special decision: one would stand in the hallway, and the other at the back of the art room.
As soon as class ended, Yi-hyeon scurried over to Han Jun.
“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”
Even as they walked back to the classroom together, Yi-hyeon kept apologizing nonstop.
“Cut it out. What are you sorry for? He’s the one who keeps starting shit.”
“Still… you got dragged into it because of me.”
“Who got dragged into anything? He wouldn’t stop talking during class, so I got annoyed and told him to shut up. But seriously, why does he keep picking on you?”
“I don’t know. He’s been like that from the start.”
“What, does he like you?”
At Han Jun’s words, Yi-hyeon went deathly pale and recoiled in disgust.
“Don’t say something so ridiculous. Why would he like me? He’s just messing with me because I’m an easy target. And we’re both guys.”
“Then just stop being an easy target.”
It wasn’t like Yi-hyeon had never tried to fight back against Wonseok’s bullying. But whenever he did, the harassment only got worse starting the very next day, and the teachers, worried about the school’s reputation, tended to hush things up. There wasn’t much Yi-hyeon could do on his own.
“How am I supposed to do that? He’s stronger than me, and he’s always hanging out with scary guys.”
“Why’re you scared of some idiot who’s all mouth and can’t do shit? Look, even when I mouth off and raise hell all the time, he never does anything.”
At Han Jun’s words, Yi-hyeon replied weakly.
“That’s because you’re tall, and your shoulders are broad, and… you know.”
“You’re not gonna say it?”
“Huh?”
“That I’ve got my dad backing me up.”
“What are you even saying?”
“What do you think? That’s the line that follows me around like a damn tag every time people talk about me.”
Han Jun said he’d expected that line to come out, so it was kind of funny that Yi-hyeon stopped after praising his looks instead. Yi-hyeon didn’t say anything and just closed his mouth. As they climbed the stairs, Han Jun seemed lost in thought, then suddenly spoke again.
“Then this’ll work.”
“Huh?”
“You just stay next to me all the time. To borrow your words, if you’re standing next to someone tall with broad shoulders, that bastard won’t mess with you.”
Caught off guard by the sudden suggestion, Yi-hyeon opened and closed his mouth in confusion. Thinking about it, it didn’t seem entirely wrong, and he muttered softly,
“…I guess.”
“Wanna test it?”
“Test what?”
“Whether Seo Wonseok can mess with you when you’re standing next to me.”
Curious about how exactly he planned to test it, Yi-hyeon tilted his head. Han Jun told him to hold onto his textbook and tumbler for a moment, then took the brush pen Yi-hyeon had lent him and popped the cap. He grabbed Yi-hyeon’s wrist and carefully spread his clenched fingers open, one by one.
“Bear with it even if it tickles. Don’t drop the tumbler. I really like it, and it’s discontinued now, so it’s hard to replace.”
“Huh? O-okay.”
Wondering what he was about to do, Yi-hyeon stared fixedly at the tip of the brush pen.
Where the pen brushed past, it tickled faintly. When Yi-hyeon flinched, Han Jun tightened his grip on his wrist.
“Don’t dodge it. You’ll drop the tumbler.”
“Okay.”
Han Jun’s focused face gradually lowered. Soon, it was almost level with Yi-hyeon’s eyes.
Up close, Han Jun’s skin was remarkably clear. His eyelashes looked much longer than they had from straight on. The line of his lips, falling sharply from his straight nose, drew into a single line as he concentrated. A strange dryness crept over Yi-hyeon, and he swallowed without thinking. When his gaze drifted a little lower, he spotted a long, thin scar on Han Jun’s smooth neck. It wasn’t very noticeable unless you really looked, but to Yi-hyeon, who knew it was a wound he himself had caused, it stood out more vividly than any other line.
Perhaps sensing Yi-hyeon’s gaze, Han Jun suddenly turned his head.
Their faces were barely two hand-spans apart. The first to look away was Yi-hyeon, his face burning hot.
“Why are you staring?”
“Huh?”
“Because I’m handsome?”
“No, I wasn’t—”
“So you weren’t staring, and I’m not handsome?”
When Yi-hyeon pressed his lips tightly shut, Han Jun turned his gaze back and finished the drawing.
“How is it? Does it look like a mosquito?”
Han Jun asked.
At a glance, it really did look like a mosquito. He’d seemed like he had no interest in art at all, but he was surprisingly good at drawing.
“Should I draw the leg hairs, or not?”
“Ugh… if it’s too realistic, it’ll just be gross. But why a mosquito?”
“Why else? For revenge.”
“Revenge?”
“Go give Seo Wonseok a nice smack on the back of the head. I’ll take responsibility from behind—your tall, broad-shouldered hyung, that is.”
“Huh?”
When Yi-hyeon stared at him wide-eyed and asked again, Han Jun’s gaze had already shifted toward Wonseok, who was in the classroom playing a phone game with Lim Haejun. Han Jun said that if Yi-hyeon went and smacked the back of his head and said he’d caught a mosquito, he’d handle the rest himself. Yi-hyeon could only look troubled.
“What if he actually retaliates?”
“Let him try. You keep bowing and scraping, so that bastard thinks you’re an easy mark and goes even more apeshit.”
“I don’t care what happens to me, but what if he takes it out on you?”
“Then I’ll beat that bastard half to death.”
Han Jun already had a history of causing trouble and being transferred to another school. If he messed up again, Yi-hyeon had no idea where he’d be sent next. Thinking it might be better to just endure it, Yi-hyeon shook his head.
“Then I’ll go beat that bastard half to death right now. Make sure he never mouths off to you again.”
As Han Jun loosened his hands and started toward Wonseok, Yi-hyeon hurriedly blocked his path. Han Jun was someone who could fly off in any direction at any moment. That was exactly why he always left Yi-hyeon flustered.
“No, no, I’ll do it. I’ll try.”
“Really?”
“Y-yeah. I’ll do it.”
“Good. Just so you know, a fake is all about confidence. If you act bold, everyone buys it.”
Yi-hyeon nodded.
When he entered the classroom, he lingered around Wonseok on purpose, waiting for the right timing. Wonseok, who had been playing his game, noticed Yi-hyeon hovering nearby and narrowed his already sharp eyes even more.
“What? You got something to say to me?”
“Well, there’s a mosquito—”
“What are you mumbling? Speak up. Louder.”
“There’s a mosquito on the back of your head.”
Screw it, whatever happens happens. Yi-hyeon raised his arm high toward the back of Wonseok’s head, who was leaning back in his chair, and brought it down in a hard smack.
Smack! Along with the sharp sound, Yi-hyeon felt a jolt shoot through his entire palm. Startled by the impact he’d never felt before, he clenched his fist tightly.
The noisy classroom fell silent in an instant. Every student inside was staring in their direction, mouths agape.
Wonseok, who had never expected Yi-hyeon to hit the back of his head, stayed frozen for a few seconds with his head pitched forward. Then, realizing what had happened, he shot up from his seat and swung his hand toward Yi-hyeon’s face.
“Ah, fuck, seriously! You crazy little shit, you wanna die?”
Han Jun rushed in and stepped between Wonseok and Yi-hyeon. He slammed his own hand into Wonseok’s incoming strike, almost like a mock high-five.
“You really gotta kill someone over catching a mosquito for you?”
“Ha, you again? Fuck, I knew it. You put him up to this.”
Looking at Wonseok, who clearly couldn’t believe timid Yoon Yi-hyeon would do something like this on his own, Han Jun smiled with his eyes.
“Why would I tell him to catch the mosquito stuck to the back of your head? You got paranoia or something?”
“A bastard born from an affair should shut his fucking mouth.”
