In a separate building at the Nangham School was a large gymnasium and a basketball court set up for it. A sturdy sole slid with a squeal across the smooth, shiny floor. The bouncy red ball flew up and hit the hoop to the roar of enthusiastic voices.
"Three-pointer!" exclaimed the teacher, pressing his whistle to his lips. He turned and looked at the frozen student. He frowned and barked rudely. "What are you standing there for?! Give them points!"
The boy, drenched in sweat, looked timidly at the teacher and turned to the spectacles stand. With trembling hands he turned the card over three times.
"Not them!" the man slapped him on his thin bony shoulder. Nodding convulsively, the teenager quickly corrected himself. At last he felt the teacher shake his head in satisfaction and move away, and he exhaled loudly.
A real game was brewing on the court.
On the benches in the distance sat a few liberated and just plain lazy teenagers. Their conversations were drowned out by the shouts of the people on the court, so most of the time the teacher paid no attention to them at all, preferring to deal with the active kids.
In the center, Dae Han was sitting with his buddies. He had a packet of sweet pomegranate juice in his hand. He gently swallowed the tube with his tongue and swallowed quickly, looking around the basketball court with a haughty look. His classmate landed to the side, sweaty from running, and Dae Han, throwing a devastating look at him, lightly pushed the boy away. He looked at him and without a word got up and sat down.
His friend, taking cheesy popcorn out of his backpack, not distracted from the intense battle between his class and the parallel, asked:
"Aren't you going to go play?"
Dae Han, taking another sip, carelessly threw in:
"Mmmm, to sweat and smell like a pig later? No shit."
A cold voice sounded nearby:
"You don't need to play, you stink anyway."
Dae Han turned his head sharply, his eyes flashing angrily. On the right, a little farther away, sat Chom Jamin from the parallel class. A slight stance, elongated pale fingers with rubbed reddened bones, thin black bangs slightly covering greenish eyes. Two fingers, middle and ring finger, had several silver rings with indecipherable engravings on them.
Lazily twitching a button on the neat cuff of his pressed white shirt, Jamin puckered his slightly pouting lips and blew briefly on his bangs, dislodging them from his eyes. He looked so unapproachable and cold that the blood in his veins chilled with every glance at his face.
Dae Han was getting creepily annoyed with the arrogant man.
"Fuck you," he spat out with bile. "I'd break all your legs if it wasn't for your dancing."
Jamin bit his lower lip and tilted his head to the side. He rested his right hand on his chin, creating a slight crease, and cocked an ironic eyebrow.
"Can you reach it?"
"You freak!"
Dae Han was ready to lunge furiously in his direction. The veins in his arms swelled and the corners of his eyes turned slightly red. His friend, who saw the clearly directed gaze of the teacher who smelled the start of the fight, tried to stop Gum Dae Han, but his fingers, sticky with popcorn, only grabbed the edge of his shirt, but immediately slipped out. Jamin boredly looked at the frenzied guy and only pursed his lips.
Bam!
Like a whirlwind, something flew past him and collided with Dae Han's head. He couldn't hold on and fell off the bench at the same moment.
Scarlet pomegranate juice splattered sideways.
There was silence in the hall. Jamin stared at the stained shirt in disgust, clenching his lips together sharply. The jumped up friend covered his mouth with the palm of his hand in horror.
Dae Han lifted himself up on trembling elbows and, feeling something rolling down his chin, put a hand to it.
There was blood on his fingers.
His vision was blurry. With his mouth ajar from shock, Dae Han, his legs hanging over the bench, looked around.
A wide, slightly damp palm suddenly appeared beside him. It easily picked up the ball with its strong fingertips and immediately disappeared. Following it, Dae Han hiccupped softly in amazement.
Jensen, straightening up, hummed.
"Sorry. Missed."
Dae Han wiped blood off his face with a trembling palm and tried to rise, but his hands kept slipping and he was back on his elbows.
The game paused, and now almost the entire hall was watching him.
He clenched his eyes shut, clenching his teeth. Hate flared up inside him.
"What the fuck?"
"You didn't answer my question, and I took the more pleasant option," Jensen shrugged nonchalantly.
Remembering the damn piece of paper that was now burning his pocket, Dae Han groaned silently at the pain in the bridge of his nose.
That scum...
"Are you fucking fearless or...?" threw out his buddy sharply, waking up from his stupor. He was ready to grab hold of Jensen with his hands and throw him down.
The guy brushed his bangs back from his damp forehead, looked at him, and smiled.
"So?" he planted a basketball and put his index finger up, beginning to spin it around. Jensen's posture was relaxed, as if he were standing in line for a kimpab, and he even yawned, showing complete indifference to the situation. This infuriated Dae Han even more. "The end of the sentence is coming, no?"
"Bitch, I'm going to get up and..."
"You don't have to bother. You look good," he pointed to the blond boy's amusedly stooped legs, and chuckled. "Suits you."
"What's the situation?" the teacher asked, approaching them.
Jensen turned to the man and shrugged, still spinning the ball.
"I wanted to make the pass, but my hand slipped."
The teacher looked at Dae Han sprawled on the floor and smirked slightly. The latter, noticing the stranger's disdain, mourned his face.
"Teacher, I...!"
"It's your own fault," the man threw the whistle carelessly over his shoulder. "A big guy, and you sit on the bench like a fifth grader with a certificate."
Gum Dae Han immediately blushed when he heard such derogatory words from the older man.
The man, with a sigh, continued:
"All right. Go see the medic. And you," he glanced at Jensen, who continued to stand there, rarely licking his wet lips. "You get the inventory together after class."
He nodded accordingly.
The teacher turned away and, seeing the faces frozen in shock, barked:
"What are you staring at?! Playing!"
Jensen turned to the still lying Dae Han. Leaning slightly, he stretched his lips in a smirk.
His gaze caught on a guy sitting next to him with a ruined white shirt that was showing pink stains. He pulled his lips together into a tube and opened Dae Han's backpack, which was lying on a bench. Dae Han jumped up in spite of the pain. His torn elbows ached. He clenched his fist and prepared to swing it at his adversary, but was immediately stopped by the grim look in his teacher's eyes.
Jensen, whistling softly, took out a pack of wet, fragrant wipes from his backpack. He handed them to Jamin and turned his eyes back to Dae Han, who was darkened with rage.
"What? You're a model sunbae. It's worth it to help your peers if you've been naughty, isn't it?
He smiled, moving his gaze for a moment to the boy he'd given the napkins to. The alien stare, nibbling at flesh like a knife blade, went all over his body, sending a few goosebumps down his arms. Jensen stretched his lips without taking his eyes off him, and turned back to his teammates, who patted him warmly on the shoulder, taking him back into the game.
His powerful back, clad in his white jersey, looked imposing. Jamin, clutching the tissues that wet his thin fingers, didn't take his eyes off it until the end of the match.
***
When the gym was empty and the lights went out, leaving only a separate area on, Jensen, with a sigh, began to gather up the scattered equipment.
Picking up a few hoops, he opened the inventory room with his key and leisurely entered. He flicked a switch.
A small yellowish light bulb illuminated the room. In the corner stood racks of gym balls and a pair of gymnastics racks. Placing the hoops with the others, Jensen scratched his neck a little damp with sweat.
It was his last class, so he wanted to get home as quickly as possible. Hyun, after texting him that he would be back first without waiting for him, sent a couple more messages about his safe arrival and sent some pictures of Du San cooking in the kitchen, taking the baked fish out of the oven.
Upon seeing this, Jensen felt a warmth spread in his chest.
Rattling as he placed two basketballs on the iron counter, Jensen turned as he was about to leave the inventory room, and ran into a figure who had appeared in the opening that was just below him.
Jamin, stopped in front of him, folded his arms across his chest and leaned sideways against the wooden doorway. His lips quivered.
"Hello," he said softly.
Jensen brushed back his bangs, raised his eyebrows, and answered:
"Hi."
Now he wasn't wearing an ironed school uniform, but a clean tracksuit. Jensen hummed slightly and squeezed past the guy, deciding not to ask too many questions. Footsteps were heard behind him.
"I have a request."
He turned around with interest and froze, muttering questioningly. Jamin, making sure he was being listened to, pointed to the rope hanging in the corner of the gymnasium. There were some mattresses underneath it.
"Back me up."
"Really?" asked Jensen with a chuckle. "Why now and not in class?"
He thought his voice sounded like he was a teacher scolding a student for not approaching him with a question during class, but El was reluctant to agree so quickly. There was delicious fish and rice waiting for him at home, so he had a good reason to return as soon as possible. And it was getting dark outside.
Jensen didn't particularly like wandering through drifts in the dark.
"I don't like it when people stare," Jamin replied, glancing strangely over his body. "We have a rope-climbing test next week. I don't want to fail, so I'm asking you to back me up. You've got strong arms, you can definitely catch, that's why I asked."
He said it quickly and at the same time so easily and relaxed, as if he had been preparing for a long time. The boy's pale face didn't change for a second, still maintaining a cold-blooded calm.
Jensen wanted to go home and almost warned of his imminent departure, but thought about it and still decided to help.
"Okay," he nodded, heading toward the rope. "Let's make it quick."
They approached, and Jensen, shifting the mattresses, straightened up. His gaze fell back on the guy frozen beside him. He looked at his legs and wondered if he could even wrap them around the rigid rope: the tender pink knees, smooth skin, and slender limbs did not inspire confidence. The calves were quite voluminous, however, so the incredulity in his mind dulled a bit.
"What's your name?" he asked, and there was a soft echo in the silence of the huge gymnasium.
"Chom Jamin. You're El Jensen, you're new."
He nodded.
"I hope you know safety procedures."
Chom Jamin, putting lean fingers to his chin, confidently agreed. Jensen continued:
"Because you're my responsibility now. I don't want to go to jail."
"I know," the boy assured him.
Jensen asked him to take off his sneakers and, waiting for him to bend over and quickly pull them off, followed him. The mattress rustled beneath his feet. Il walked over to the rope and gripped it tightly with his hand, pulling it away for a moment and testing its strength. Jamin stood beside it, and his shoulder, somehow incredibly hot, literally, burned Jensen's shoulder. He glanced at it, and then spoke:
"I'll go in first and show you how to cling with my hands and feet. Watch carefully. Then you climb."
Chom Jamin nodded carefully. Jensen began to explain:
"You put one hand, usually the right hand, which is the strongest, higher, and the other hand lower, to make it easier to crawl. With the toe of the right foot you hold the rope at the back. With the heel of the left foot, in front," he jumped up and grasped the rope with his hands, continuing to explain as he went. "You bend your legs, pushing off, and grab it a little higher."
Jamin stepped back a little to see how Jensen, demonstrating the move, easily made his way higher on the rope.
His posture, as if accustomed to this kind of climbing, was unwaveringly calm, and a few minutes later he had already reached the top of the rope. Touching it with his fingers, Jensen relaxed his legs and slid down, slowing down slightly to avoid crashing in and getting hurt. As Jensen finally descended and backed away from the simulator, Jamin approached him and exhaled without a word.
Jensen, still standing beside him, decided to step back and let him climb up himself, but suddenly a stranger's hand covered his and pressed it sharply against the rope. The boy flinched and glanced at Jamin, who suddenly wedged himself between him and the sports equipment and froze in anticipation.
He exhaled softly, and his warm breath, scorching Chom Jamin's neck, sent shivers down his spine.
There was a strange silence, but Jensen had no intention of diluting it in any way.
Jamin's palm was hot and smooth; it seemed as if it had never received a callus. Jensen moved his right hand forward slightly, and his skin rubbed against someone else's, heating it even more.
Shuh.
"You're not from around here?" Jamin struck up a casual conversation, bracing himself against the rope.
A faint shiver ran through Jensen's body as the thin, cool fingers intertwined with his own in a tight lock. He exhaled silently, lowering his head slightly. His hair fell to his forehead, barely covering his eyes.
Was that flirting?
"Yeah, I'm from the other neighborhood," Jensen replied, tilting his head to the side so the tips of his hair wouldn't touch someone else's bare neck. "You know Du Hyun? He's my brother."
Jamin flinched as he turned his head toward him. His face was hidden behind his hair, so Jensen couldn't see his expression, but he could hear the surprise in his calm voice.
"Du Hyun is your brother? Hmph. You are completely different."
Jensen snorted hoarsely.
"His mother is my aunt."
He glanced at the rope and held the boy by the elbows.
"Let's get started. Grab your hands firmly and jump up."
"Can you get me under my hips so it's easier to jump in?"
...
What?
Jensen stiffened. His palms, still on the man's skin, burned with fire. A thousand questions clashed in his head, but El immediately brushed them aside, steadily lifting the boy beneath his hips.
"Don't kill the gentleman in me," he whispered in his ear, pressing his hands against the rope and forcing him higher up.
The corners of Chom Jamin's reddish lips crept upward.
The fabric of his sweatpants rubbed against Jensen's shirt, creating a quiet, continuous noise.
"Phew," Jamin exhaled wearily, climbing another meter higher. Jensen, having let go of him, stood below, assessing the situation. His palms were still on fire, but his face had already regained its former expression.
"If you feel uncomfortable, come down," he warned.
"It's okay," Jamin retorted from above.
His hands kept straining as he gripped the thick rope with them.
"You're not bad," Jensen praised him. "Doing anything?"
With a strange click, he averted his eyes and looked at the door to the gymnasium. It was shaded because the light from the lamp only penetrated the part of the room where the upperclassmen were now.
Pressing his lips together, Jensen rummaged around in his head, trying to remember if the door had been so wide open when he had spoken to Jamin...?
"Ouch!"
A painful cry was heard. Jensen lifted his head sharply and barely had time to put his arms up when a heavy body came down on top of him and pressed him to the floor. The mattress cushioned his fall, so the pain ringing in his head immediately passed. Bending his knees, El sighed intermittently, turning to the boy lying next to him.
"Are you all right? What happened?"
Jamin turned his face toward him after a moment of silence. His cheeks were flushed a little, giving him a look of confusion. He parted his puffy lips and said excitedly:
"Fucking hell."
Nervous laughter erupted from Jensen's chest.
Soon both of them were laughing. Adrenaline rushed through his bloodstream.
Jamin raised his palm above him and twisted it. There was redness and blistering near his fingers. He'd probably scraped the skin as he climbed, so he unhooked himself with a sharp stinging pain.
"Good thing you were there," Jamin said in relief. He didn't look cold; on the contrary, his face radiated a thrill and a soft, beautiful smile.
"If I hadn't been there, would you have gone in by yourself?"
"No way."
"You didn't work out with me, either, though."
Jamin interrupted him at the same second:
"It's not your fault. My hands just aren't used to this."
They lay dozens of centimeters apart, and they could clearly hear someone else's breath, which burned through the air more and more with each time. Jensen, his eyes fixed on the face opposite, asked:
"So what do you do?"
Jamin, looking back at him, licked his lips and wiped the moisture from them with his finger, making some graceful movements.
"I dance in the theater."
Jensen's mouth involuntarily let out a delighted sigh.
"Whoa. That's why your legs are so strong."
Jamin merely smiled at his words.
A light shadow, like a thin layer of airy blanket, lay on the right side of his face.
There was something...diabolical about it.
Jensen blinked and stood up, glancing at the large clock hanging on the wall. It was time to go home. Tomorrow he had to be at his teacher's office at the appointed time to give him the keys to the inventory room, so he leisurely sprang to his feet, stretching crisply in the back. A loose T-shirt exposed his biceps, his skin glistening with moisture.
"We got held up," he blurted out.
Jamin followed him up, and nodded.
"Yeah. Sorry."
Jensen shook it off, kicked the mattresses aside, and headed for the exit.
A hard stare, devouring his shoulder blades, accompanied him all the way to the door. Already on his way out, he turned his head slightly in the direction of the senior who had frozen halfway there.
As he gripped the iron handle with his fingers, he smirked, and threw one last look:
"I'd like to see one of your performances."
The door that engulfed him creaked open.
Jamin, clutching the edge of his pants, threw his head back and covered his face with his hand, listening for the retreating footsteps.
Soon the shadow creeping across the room covered him completely, and there was total silence in the gymnasium.