“So then I can just open it and grab the notebook, or whatever, right?”
“Ha, this little shit really talks back every single time, nitpicking every word. What the fuck is wrong with you? You on drugs or something?”
“Whatever. He’s simple anyway. Bet he set it to his birthday or the last four digits of his phone. I’ll try, and if it doesn’t work, I’ll just tell the teacher.”
As Yi-hyeon reached for the keypad on Wonseok’s locker lock, Haejun shoved him aside with his shoulder, telling him to get his filthy hands off it.
“Ah, fuck. Yeah. Guess I was wrong. No need to find the notebook at all. I’ll just tell the math teacher that Seo Wonseok took my notebook, locked it in his locker, and Haejun wouldn’t let me open it.”
“Wow, you little fucker, seriously. If your notebook isn’t in there, you’re fucking dead.”
Knowing exactly what the math teacher was like, Haejun reluctantly punched in the locker code with one hand. Ignoring Haejun glaring at him with bloodshot eyes, Yi-hyeon shoved his face toward the open locker.
Found it.
“If even one thing’s missing…”
He’d expected the notebook not to be in good shape, but it had been forcibly jammed into the narrow space, every page crumpled. Letting out a deep sigh, Yi-hyeon reached to pull it out—and of course. Haejun snorted and tried to slam the door shut.
“Wait—don’t close it.”
Sensing the shift in air, Yi-hyeon grabbed the door just before his neck could get caught in the gap.
“Just a second.”
“Fuck, I got your notebook back, didn’t I? Why the hell should I listen to you?”
Whether Haejun yelled or not, Yi-hyeon felt something was off and took a deep breath. Sure enough, faint but unmistakable, he caught the scent—Han Jun’s scent—something that should never have come from Wonseok’s locker.
“Not letting go? Are you out of your fucking mind?”
When Yi-hyeon looked at Haejun as he shoved him aside, Haejun twisted his brows in irritation.
“What are you staring at? You crazy? Huh?”
“I said just a second.”
At Yi-hyeon’s words, Haejun roughly raked a hand through his hair, then twisted his lips.
“Han Jun acts all cocky because he’s got his dad backing him. But what about you? Huh? What the fuck are you? Why’s a little shit whose fingers aren’t even a span long keep crawling up like this? Hey, am I your friend? Am I? I said, am I?”
Haejun mocked him, tapping Yi-hyeon’s head with his palm.
“What, huh? Han Jun’s got your back or something? Is that why you’re acting up? You actually believe that bullshit? If people find out you two are fucking around together, wouldn’t you be as good as dead?”
“Why would Han Jun have my back? Stop saying stupid shit.”
“Ha, you really don’t quit. Fucking gay bastard.”
The hand that had been tapping Yi-hyeon’s head grabbed a fistful of his bangs hard. Startled by the sharp pain, Yi-hyeon grabbed Haejun’s wrist and struggled.
“Let go—ah, it hurts! And why the hell would I be gay?!”
“You think I don’t know? You and Han Jun—you’re gay.”
Haejun yanked Yi-hyeon’s hair down hard toward the floor. Just as Yi-hyeon was about to be slammed face-first into the classroom floor without any chance to resist, someone grabbed the back of his uniform and pulled him away.
“Ahhh, so this is how rumors spread. Some random asshole pinning down a sexual identity I didn’t even know I had.”
Pulled so suddenly that he staggered back a couple of steps, Yi-hyeon bumped lightly into someone. Startled, he turned around—Han Jun was gripping the hem of his uniform tightly, staring straight at Haejun.
“Let’s say I really am gay. Then the bastard who dares put that story in his mouth? I’d kill him too. Our family’s old man is pretty sensitive to the word ‘defeat,’ you see. If some bullshit from a nobody whose background I don’t even know puts us at a disadvantage in an election… wow. What comes after that is so ugly I can’t even say it out loud.”
“Cut the crap. It’s not bullshit. Everyone knows you two are gay.”
Despite Haejun’s sneer, Han Jun didn’t waver even slightly, his eyes boring straight into him. Then, with a face stripped of all humor, he spoke.
“Then I should kill you first before the rumor spreads any further. Without leaving a trace.”
“……”
Seeing the muscles in Haejun’s face twitch for a brief moment, Han Jun calmly continued.
“I’d like it to end with just you, but our old man really likes things clean.”
As Han Jun’s gaze swept over every student gathered in the classroom, one by one, they avoided his eyes, whispering among themselves.
“I’m worried he might wipe out everyone who heard it.”
After hesitating for a moment, Haejun let out a scoff, trying not to show that he was scared.
“Fucking bastard, acting tough when you’re nothing.”
“I really hope what I just said ends as nothing more than me acting tough, too.”
Han Jun smiled faintly, released Yi-hyeon’s clothes, and even had the composure to pat Haejun’s shoulder before returning to his seat. Haejun brushed off the shoulder Han Jun had touched and vented his anger by cursing nonstop at the back of his head—but he didn’t say another word about gays or homos.
***
After homeroom, Yi-hyeon quickly chased after Han Jun, who had left ahead of him. It was because of the trace of Han Jun he’d sensed in Wonseok’s locker. After hearing Yi-hyeon out, Han Jun stopped and looked down at him.
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah. It was definitely your shower cologne. Have you ever lent anything to Seo Wonseok?”
“Do you think I would?”
“You said it yourself. That Seo Wonseok threw your phone away on the spot.”
“That’s just what he claimed.”
“Doesn’t it seem suspicious, smelling your scent in his locker at this point?”
“Yeah. It does feel off.”
Smelling someone else on a person who wouldn’t even tolerate accidental brushing past them? Based on that, Yi-hyeon deduced that Wonseok had somehow taken Han Jun’s belongings and temporarily stored them in his locker. When Han Jun agreed, Yi-hyeon felt a little proud and spoke up.
“What if he put your phone in there?”
“Ah, fuck, that bastard.”
Han Jun frowned, picturing Seo Wonseok.
“Your phone’s practically brand new. Then maybe he wiped the data and put it up for sale. He uses Oi Market a lot. Want to check if it’s listed?”
At Yi-hyeon’s suggestion—that they could buy it back if it was listed on the secondhand app and try to recover the data—Han Jun’s expression darkened.
“But you. How do you know he uses Oi Market?”
“I’ve got good ears. Even sitting in my seat, I can hear everything he says.”
“You weren’t focusing just to hear his voice, were you?”
“What the hell are you talking about? Did you get hit on the head or something?”
“Forget it. This is my problem. From here on out, I’ll handle it myself.”
“Let me help.”
“This is something between me and Seo Wonseok. Why would you get involved? Don’t tell me you actually want to meet Seo Wonseok?”
“Don’t say something that disgusting.”
“Then why do you keep trying to step into it?”
If he said it was because of him, Han Jun would obviously brush Yi-hyeon off again. So this time, Yi-hyeon decided to give a reason he couldn’t easily refuse.
“Because we’re friends?”
It wasn’t like he had some solid justification ready. But since the words were already out, Yi-hyeon decided to push it.
“Helping a friend is just normal. If you were me, would you not help when I was struggling? Don’t tell me… we weren’t actually friends?”
Saying that he’d really be hurt if that were the case, Yi-hyeon made Han Jun let out a reluctant sigh before answering.
“Do you know Seo Wonseok’s ID?”
“Uh… no. I don’t. Sorry.”
Just moments ago he’d been boldly insisting on helping, but now that something he didn’t know came up, Yi-hyeon answered in a small, almost mumbling voice.
“It’s fine. If you did know, it’d probably piss me off even more.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
As if to shut Yi-hyeon up before he could ask again, Han Jun tugged him by the hem of his clothes, saying a motorcycle was coming. He pulled Yi-hyeon inward, then casually logged into Oi Market.
“Even if he did put it up, finding it would be tough. There are fifty-eight listings just around here.”
“Fifty-eight?”
