At lunchtime, when classes began, the Nangham School fell into a deep sleep. The curtained windows, keeping out the dim winter light, were like a huge beehive. Bare, frozen trees lined up in a row in the schoolyard creaked in the cold wind.
The temperature had dropped noticeably this day, so there were fewer and fewer people on the streets.
The few teachers charged with tracking down truanting students had themselves locked themselves in their offices, preferring not to leave the warm premises.
Three grim figures moved cautiously and quietly along the snowy road. The boys, wrapped up to their noses in thick scarves, exchanged glances and strode purposefully toward the place used by high school students to smoke secretly from the teachers. Although it was known to be no longer a secret, and occasionally an angry teacher would look in there and immediately disperse the students, it was still in active use.
One of the three sniffed his red, snotty nose and asked:
"So what's the plan?"
Dae Han, who led their group, scratched a frosted blond eyebrow and shrugged:
"Let's punch him in the face."
He clutched the shitty piece of paper in the pocket of his short down jacket, still irritating his whole being, and pressed his lips together.
The third tilted his head slightly, shaking off the snow stuck to the back of his head:
"Can we not go? Fuck it. He's a bit of a chump. That constant grin of his... Maybe, well, he's not right in the head."
Dae Han looked at him, and with a twitch of his hand, cracked the back of his head. Snow sprinkled down the guy's collar. He nearly shrieked from the frost licking his skin and quickly covered his own mouth, shuddering with his whole body.
"Gotta put this cretin in his place," he pointed to his broken nose, taped over with a medical band-aid. Just the memory of hitting the ball made him clench his eyes painfully. Clenching his fists, where his veins bulged nervously, Dae Han strode briskly forward. "I don't know who he thinks he is, but if he thinks he can humiliate me so easily, he's a complete idiot."
A cold wind blew against their backs.
One of the boys grimaced doubtfully, but kept walking, hoping that today he would at least come home unscratched.
When the boys rounded the corner of the school, finding that very stash, they froze in the aisle, staring warily at Jensen, sitting nonchalantly on the bench. He, wrapped tightly in his black jacket, was smoking quietly, staring blankly at the snow-covered schoolyard. His long fingers, barely trembling in the icy air, monotonously brought the cigarette to his mouth and drew it aside with each inhale, while gray smoke escaped from his parted lips.
As if not noticing his classmates, Jensen continued to smoke pensively.
Dae Han took a piece of paper out of his pocket and threw it at Jensen, hitting him square in the face. The message scratched his cheek and fell limply to the trampled snow, immediately getting wet.
"I've met many like you," Gum Dae Han spat out, frowning. "You know where they all ended up? In the shit."
The two guys flanking him also frowned, taking their tightly clenched hands out of their pockets.
Jensen, taking a deep puff, raised an eyebrow, glancing down at the lone grayed-out piece of paper. Exhaling, he lazily licked the pink corner of his mouth. His nostrils flared slightly.
He stared at the unfortunate paper as if it had a strange mathematical problem written on it.
Dae Han, not getting an answer, began to boil over.
"Should I clean your ears, you piece of shit? Or were you deaf from birth?"
Jensen leaned over silently, picking up the leaf. Taking a lighter out of his pocket, he flicked it open and slowly lit the paper. The scarlet flame, swaying in the quiet, calm breeze, began to devour it with rapture.
Dae Han grimaced, warily watching his every move. What could the jerk be up to this time?
In his pondering, he didn't notice that something flashed in front of his face. The guys beside him shrieked and dazedly darted away, like ants whose house had been crushed by a human foot in the blink of an eye. There was a smell of smoke. Dae Han flailed his arms, trying to throw off something scalding, and finally getting rid of it, he looked down sharply.
On the ground lay a burning message, its letters slowly devoured by fire.
When he looked up, he flinched and jerked backward in fright, but all he could do was to press his shoulder blades against the scalding cold wall of the school.
Right in front of his face stood Jensen with a nonchalant look. A thin cigarette, pressed tightly against his lips, hissed as he spoke softly:
"And I thought you had me first."
Dae Han got a big jolt from those words.
And a voice.
A creeping, confident voice that made his skin tingle.
The glasses on the bridge of Jensen's nose shifted slightly, revealing a tiny mole in the corner of his left eye. The senior picked up the cigarette with his fingers, removed it from his mouth, and, stretching his lips in an attractive smile, exhaled a cloud of acrid smoke into Dae Han's frozen face.
All the words he had planned to say to the bastard suddenly slipped his mind.
The distance between them shrank even further as Jensen brought his face closer, stretching the words:
"Are you a mother duck?"
Dae Han gasped in indignation.
"What?"
El Jensen pointed his hand at the boys standing at his sides.
"Then why do you have a brood following you around all the time?"
His voice was full of irony.
"Or don't you have the guts to come to one?" The boy's eyebrow arched mockingly. "You got some kind of inferiority complex?"
One of the threesome squinted at him angrily, and spat out hatefully:
"You're a fucking...!"
Jensen turned his gaze to him, and the guy went cold in an instant. The black eyes burned through him. Like the mouth of an animal, ready to devour him alive. Jensen's lips parted:
"Were you asked to interrupt me? No. Then why the fuck did you open your mouth?"
Silence ensued.
Smacking his lips, Jensen smirked slightly.
"Мm? Do you have a problem with me? Well, say it, I want to hear it. Well."
He towered over them like a grim, marble statue of a giant. Cigarette smoke enveloped Dae Han as Jensen turned back to him and exhaled relaxedly into his face. The rustle of the black jacket echoed in his ears.
Jensen, scratching his eyebrow, nodded:
"I feel like I'm mocking the kids. Can't you say something back, huh? Where's the courage you had when you were shitting on the little ones? When you kicked them and pinned them to the floor."
The last phrase was said in a half-whisper, but it sent cold shivers down the spine of all three of them.
"When they were forced to chew some shit. When they dipped their heads in the toilet and the sink. М? Now why are you standing there like scared rats, looking at me with those stupid eyes?"
Jensen raised his eyebrows questioningly and blew on his bangs, which fell over his eyes, covering them and making them darker. Gum Dae Han, pinned against the wall by his tall body, blushed with anger. Insulting words kept trying to come off his lips, but were constantly silenced, as if something was squeezing them inside, warning them.
He had come here to humiliate this man, but found himself humiliated. It was devastating.
Without waiting for a return attack, Jensen exhaled disappointedly and, taking the smoldering cigarette from his mouth, abruptly lowered his hand and pressed it against Dae Han's pants. The fabric of the fly burned through the ash that spilled from the cigarette butt. Dae Han's eyes went wide as he saw a torn hole forming on his school pants. The boys, noticing this, jumped up and, as if awakened from a dream, rushed toward Jensen.
Dae Han couldn't move: his head was empty and his eyes were blurred.
Something tugged at a string inside him, and the big sack swelled up, opened and spilled out.
In one motion, Jensen pinned both of the rebellious schoolboys against the wall. His strong hands clenched his jaw and pressed it with all their might, pinning both of them against the icy stone. Dae Han, trapped in the center of the stranger's arms, glared furtively at the high school student across the street. Jensen almost pressed his face against his: he was so close that the blond man could feel his warm breath on him, reeking of bitter cigarettes and astringent lime.
Jensen licked his chapped lips with his tongue, his nose briefly tracing the stranger's rough cheek.
Dae Han shuddered with all his body. There was a lump in his throat.
"Do you like horror movies?"
Gum Dae Han squinted his eyes without hearing. His ears rang with the strain and moaning of his friends against the wall.
— ... .
Tsking, EL blurted out:
"The answer."
"Y-yes," he mumbled in a hoarse, restless voice, still not understanding the question. Saliva burned his throat. The tight trap of his hands and the huge body, which was really only slightly taller than he was, flattened his mind, making him forget about everything.
It was something strange.
"What the fuck?! What the fuck?!" — Dae Han thought angrily, trying to extricate himself from this abnormal state.
"Nice," Jensen lowered his voice. After looking at the frozen figure in front of him, he continued. His eyes grew darker with each word, and his body continued to lean forward like a storm wave arriving at the shore. "Here's the thing: If I ever see a bruise on my brother Du Hyun's back, I will become a producer and make a real horror movie out of your life. So you should be more careful, I don't-remember-your-name.
Dae Han, having deduced just a few phrases, was dumbfounded:
"Du Hyun... Brother? Holy shit..."
Jensen tilted his chin, and the arc of his glasses touched Dae Han's nose. Bringing his lips close to the boy's ear, Jensen whispered measuredly, scorching his lobe with a husky, ragged breath:
"In the nineteen-plus scenes, I'm an absolute pro."
He pulled away, letting go of the boys wedged between his palm and the rock. Those fell to the ground, pressing snow to their burning, scratched cheeks with a pitiful groan.
After flicking his eyes over the undead Dae Han, who continued to stare at him, Jensen lifted the tiny front pocket on his down jacket and pulled out a single cigarette.
"Can I borrow it?" he asked and hummed dryly. Without waiting for an answer, he turned and headed down the snow-crunching path toward the exit.
He looked over his shoulder as he rounded the bend. His slightly flushed nose gave his mischievous face a gentle charm.
"You guys should hurry to class. No one likes a truant."
He smiled, nodded softly to the boys lying on the ground, and slowly disappeared around the corner.
The schoolboy in the green jacket staggered to his feet and gingerly touched the other side of his cheek, where an itchy redness was eating away at him.
"Oh shit! He's fucked up! Fuck, I can't feel half my face, it's like a crowbar went through it..." He tore his hazy gaze off the ground and casually pointed it at Dae Han's pants. His eyes widened in shock. "Eh. Did you get a hard-on?!"
Dae Han lowered his gaze to the slightly raised fly, from which the white fabric of his underpants peeked out, and his face flashed. Giving his buddy a slap, he pulled the edge of his down jacket over his hips in an embarrassed and irritated manner.
"Shut up!"
***
During recess, the classroom filled with noisy commotion. Jensen, reclining on the wooden backrest, reached into his phone and plugged in the game his brother had advised him last night. A colorful splash screen flashed on the screen. After a few minutes, he hunched over, fully immersed in the story. A thin bar of health constantly dwindled and piled up as he progressed further.
Jensen was a complete ignoramus at strategy games.
The door to the classroom opened ajar. A few voices fell silent, but then resumed. Biting his lip with tension, Jensen did not take his eyes off the screen until a bottle of berry yogurt appeared before him with a quiet pop.
He shifted his eyes to it and noticed the notification popping up on his phone that he was losing. He chuckled in frustration, lifted his chin and raised his eyebrows in surprise.
Jamin caught his gaze and smiled weakly. He moved the yogurt toward Jensen with his fingers, sat down in a nearby chair, and folded his arms on the desk, placing them under his head.
"You said you wanted to see me perform."
Jensen set the phone aside and squinted interestedly, picking up a small bottle and ripping off the cap. Taking a couple of sips of the mildly sweet mixture, he licked off the residue on the cap and said:
"Go ahead."
"I have a suggestion. Every Friday night I work out at Gancu Gym and I need someone to film my workout on camera. The instructor has asked me to send her videos every week since she is currently at a conference in Taiwan. I'll provide you with a camera," Jamin's eyes, a murky green, slowly traveled over Jensen's leaning figure, stopping at the loosely tightened tie. Through the three unbuttoned buttons he could see the strong, wiry neck and several moles going to his collarbones. He pulled away from them, and Chom Jamin lazily ran his fingers over the cracks on his plump lips. "And pay."
Jensen swayed thoughtfully.
"Gancu Hall? Where is that?"
"I'll send you the address on KakaoTalk," he immediately held out his phone.
Jensen scanned the icon and added him as a friend. Jamin looked at him and smiled again.
"So you agree?"
Remembering how much money Du San had spent on him, Jensen thought it was a great idea to make some extra money. In any case, he was going to find some kind of part-time job.
"Yeah."
"Fine," Jamin rubbed the ring on his finger and turned to face the class. "With you showing up, some of the personalities have started to walk in line."
Jensen hummed, taking a few sips of the delicate, delicious yogurt. He looked at his classmates hanging out at the window and shrugged.
"It was only worth a scare."
His gaze fell involuntarily upon Dae Han, seated in front of him. Catching back the suspicious glance over his shoulder with which he was trying to burn him, he smiled at him cheerfully. Gum Dae Han, feeling the sweat sliding down his back, abruptly turned away, his nose tucked into his phone.
Jamin, watching this, frowned slightly.
"Be careful," he said. "This guy has dangerous connections."
Emptying the white bottle, the black-haired man took aim and threw it precisely into the trash can standing in the corner of the classroom.
"It's okay."
He leaned back on the wooden backrest and yawned loudly, stretching his whole body. The folds of his white shirt clung to his pale skin, showing off his taut muscles. He reached a little higher with his toe and, as if by accident, touched the leg of the chair Dae Han was sitting on. Dae Han was crouched over it, not responding to the attack. Noticing this, Jensen sighed questioningly.
"Has he gone soft?"
He glanced at Jamin sitting next to him and shook his head.
"I like dogs."
Chom Jamin arched an eyebrow, staring back a little incomprehensively.
"Are we talking about animals now?" - he thought.
Dae Han's shoulders quivered, but Jensen didn't notice it, finding himself engaged in a conversation about pets.
Jamin bowed his head and grinned slightly, watching the sharply shifting emotions on his interlocutor's face. Biting the ring on his ring finger with his teeth, he felt the rich taste of iron in his mouth.
***
After history class, Jensen left the classroom and headed for the bathroom. On the way, after texting Hyun with questions about his well-being, he put his phone in his pants pocket and, pacing methodically, opened the door and slipped inside.
A white light hissed longingly in the bathroom.
Unhooking the tight belt, he pulled his pants down. A chill ran down his shoulders.
Suddenly something clicked behind him. Turning his head, Jensen stared at the locked door of one of the stalls. Finished with his business, he zipped up his fly, pressed the flush, and walked over to the sink to wash his hands. The cold water stirred, making his skin goosebumps. Splashing the moisture on his cheeks, he twisted the faucet and listened.
Someone was rustling tissues in one of the stalls, sobbing softly, barely audible.
Leaning over, EL noticed someone else's crossed legs and the dangling handle of a gray backpack with a tiny collector's keychain.
He stepped closer, and the sobs fell silent in the same second. The man inside heard his leisurely, cautious footsteps and frightenedly covered his mouth with his hand. Jensen tried to act as quietly as possible: he opened the door of the next stall, took off his slippers, rested his feet on the toilet lid, and, grasping the screen separating the toilets with his palms, pulled himself up, peering inside.
"Hey."
The short guy who'd fit on the toilet shuddered when he heard the low voice overhead, and jumped up, clutching his backpack with his wet fingers.
The big deer eyes stared at Jensen with genuine horror.
"Why is he so twitchy?"
"What are you doing?" asked Jensen curiously, jabbing his chin into the narrow screen.
He looked like a cat hanging from a curtain, clawing to keep its weight.
The schoolboy shook his hair, huffing against the corner. Without answering anything, he continued to stare at the boy's peering head.
With a twitch of his chin, El caught a fleeting movement, a grip on his stomach with one hand.
"Do you have something that hurts? Why didn't you go to the doctor?"
The boy pulled the backpack closer and hugged it, hiding his painfully pink face in the tight fabric.
"Tz."
Jensen went downstairs, put on his slippers, and left the bathroom, slamming the door.
Hearing the loud crack of the door shut, Namgun exhaled emptily. During his last class, his stomach twisted so badly that he was unable to make it to the doctor's office. The only place he could get to was the bathroom. He vomited several times with a heavy, disgusting stench of breakfast and water. His throat burned a little from the frequent vomiting. With trembling fingers he shoved mint gum into his mouth and tried to remove the nasty smell so that when he returned to class his classmates would not pester him with unnecessary questioning, but the stench did not seem to want to go away at all.
He felt dizzy when he tried to get up from the toilet, his legs immediately weak.
Disgusting day. Disgusting people.
He hated his own body.
The bathroom door suddenly creaked open.
Namgun looked up, turning back into a frightened rabbit. He expected the already familiar footsteps that, on hearing them, caused him to shake with fear, but there were none.
A few knuckles hit the door. With a quiet rustle, a half-liter bottle of water from a vending machine slipped into the stall below.
"Drink in small sips. I called for a medic, so she'll be here soon."
There were retreating footsteps. With trembling fingers Namgun picked up the bottle from the floor and pressed it to his cheek. The refreshing coolness, touching his hot skin, allowed him to exhale in relief.
He took a few cautious little sips, feeling the dryness that had constricted his throat slowly begin to disappear. Throwing the tissues he had been wiping sweat and tears with into the trash can, Namgoong stood up and timidly opened the door.
The toilet was empty.
Limping, he went to the mirror and washed his face with cool water. He touched his fingers to his swollen eyes and cheeks, threw his backpack on his shoulder, and grimaced painfully. The door to the bathroom opened again. A tall woman with a short haircut and wearing a white robe, seeing the schoolboy at the sinks, immediately jumped up to him, gently picking him up by the forearm.
"Why didn't you let anyone know where you were going? You should have called one of your classmates to help you get to the doctor's office," complained the doctor.
"I'm sorry," Namgun muttered guiltily, lowering his head.
The woman helped him out of the bathroom. When he turned his head, he saw a tall guy standing nearby, staring at the burning screen of the phone and shaking his head to the beat of the music. He was a whole head taller than he was and loomed over him like a giant.
"Thanks for telling me his whereabouts," the high school doctor thanked him.
Jensen, taking his eyes off the game, looked at them and nodded understandingly.
"It's okay."
Namgun looked at him studyingly, and staggered when their eyes collided. The hand holding the water bottle clenched.
"Let's go, let's go," the woman muttered, dragging him into the medicine cabinet.
After a few meters, something persuaded Namgun to turn around. He threw a confused look over his shoulder, but exhaled disappointedly, for there was no one else in the corridor.