Body pressure from a rigid hand slammed loudly against the wall, knocking the air out of his chest. Dae Han clutched his eyes shut for a second as he felt someone else's fingers gripping the collar of his half-unbuttoned school shirt and yanking him forward with force. The cold wall burned his back through the thick layer of his jacket, sending a hundred goosebumps down his skin.
Jensen, whose face was calm, whispered:
"You know something about this?"
He was clearly alluding to the incident that took place in the dining room today.
Dae Han shrank under the stranger's gaze. The perineum was still itching with phantom pain.
"What do you mean?" he asked tensely.
"The guy's been drugged, it's obvious," El said in a firm, confident tone.
Dae Han raised his eyebrows.
"What makes you think that? Maybe he was consuming something there on the sly!" he tried to loosen the stranger's fingers that were firmly gripped in his collar, but it was in vain.
Jensen pulled his face away from him and exhaled.
"Only a blind man can't tell the difference between a normal person and a junkie," Jensen breathed out the warm steam from his mouth that scorched the stranger's face and made him squint for a second, letting go of the collar and shoving his hands into his pockets. "You're familiar with that company Ryo Honu is in, right? And you obviously know what they might be up to. So tell me, are these guys connected to this incident?"
A thin layer of snow fell on my head from the roof of the school. A few thick, shabby birds flapped their wings and soared into the sky, dropping more white, silvery flakes.
"Why don't you ask Ryo Honu himself?" Dae Han clenched his teeth.
Jensen simply shrugged his shoulders. His damp bangs shook, covering his right eye obliquely.
"I didn't find him at school. He's probably recovering from last night's shakedown," the boy curved the corner of his mouth when he saw Dae Han's lips open in shock. The cold air penetrated his throat and burned his lungs.
"He got to him, too?!"
Goosebumps ran down his skin.
"Either way, somebody's responsible for this. A common foe who disliked this guy couldn't just get drugs out of thin air, could he? I need a source."
Dae Han, hearing this, grinned wryly.
"Why the fuck do you even care? Do you care about a kid you don't know, a kid you've seen for the first time in your life? Are you a Malibu lifeguard or something?" the words rolled off his tongue quickly, Dae Han didn't have time to think about it as the subconscious anger and humiliation he felt burst out. Like a cornered animal, he made a desperate attempt to end it all. "Do you have lifeguard syndrome?"
*Lifeguard syndrome is a certain type of behavior characterized by a desire to constantly help others, including giving up one's own interests and desires. It can lead to psychological disorders in the long run.
Jensen raised an eyebrow questioningly, and after thinking about it, he nodded with a slight dry smile.
"Maybe," his voice sounded muffled by the rising wind, but Dae Han heard the words all too clearly. The expression on Jensen's face was impossible to read.
In fact, it was not an act of kindness. Hyun said that this guy was in his class, which meant that all the students might have been in danger. Who knows what kind of jerks were negative against his brother.
Jensen had to protect him. That was it.
Gum Dae Han shuddered, lowering his chin and pulling his shirt collar up higher.
"Fucking lifesaver."
"I haven't heard of the gang that Ryo Honu is a part of doing this. I don't know what's going on inside, I haven't been there in a while, but nobody's pushing dope for sure," the guy squeezed out. He lowered his head, kicked a lump of snow, and sniffed his nose. "Naene's careful to keep order."
"Keeps order? Then he is blind to allow such behavior," Jensen said sharply. Dae Han, hearing the threat in the stranger's tone, pressed his shoulders against his neck.
"What are you, your mother?" he blurted out angrily, and immediately bit his tongue.
"Well, if your mother didn't teach you how to behave, I will," the boy blew off the bangs stuck to his eyes and quietly hummed. "And my methods are appropriate."
A few more students walked tiredly past the gates of the institution. They looked at the two figures by the wall, grimaced, and turned around and headed for home. The snow creaking underfoot accompanied their shadows to the corner.
The yellow bright lights bolted to the iron gate blinked faintly.
"All right," Jensen wiped his forehead with his hand and continued softly. "Are there any other gangs that might be up to it?"
Dae Han froze, as if in thought. With an arching eyebrow, Il leaned closer to him and prepared to listen.
"There is one..." the senior began vaguely, averting his gaze. "But it's best not to get into it. Not even a madman like you. They're all inadequate in there."
"And how do I find them?"
Dae Han grinned nervously, pulling away from the guy and crashing his back into the wall.
"Don't you have any self-preservation instinct at all?! Crazy!"
"Brother?" came a worried voice from the left.
Jensen turned around in a hurry and saw Hyun, wrapped tightly in a scarf, at the gate. A black knitted hat was pulled over his head. Curious eyes and cheeks flushed with cold looked through the woolen fabric. Hyung squinted his eyes and saw Gum Dae Han in the half-light, immediately stepping back and clenching his fists as a reflex.
"What's going on? Are you fighting?"
Jensen shook his head negatively, raising his hand and patting the senior's frostbitten cheek in a friendly manner. Dae Han irritably tried to push his palm away, but it was impossible.
"No, we were just talking," Jensen replied evasively, stopping the clapping, lifting his backpack off the ground and heading toward his brother. Turning his head slightly, he huffed, smiling. "See you tomorrow, man! We've got a lot to talk about."
As the two figures disappeared behind the cars parked at the school gate, Dae Han's eyes flashed and he angrily kicked the toe of his boot against the wall.
"Fuck hell!"
The teacher who looked out of the office window frowned:
"Gum Dae Han! Your cigarette butts to pick up later again?! Go home or I'll call your father!"
Abruptly picking up his bag propped on the ground, he clenched his fists angrily and went home cursing.
The noise of cars passing on the highway accompanied them both to the bus stop. Evening Busan was illuminated by the bright lights left over from Christmas, and soft music played on the main street. Burying his nose into a thick layer of warm scarf, Du Hyun whispered:
"Better not mess with him."
Jensen, rocking his backpack relaxedly in his hands, looked questioningly at his brother.
"What?"
"I'm not defending him," the boy retorted hastily, fixing his hat rolling down over his eyes. "I just don't want you to get in trouble. Let's...finish our studies in peace, okay?"
Jensen looked away, his lips pressed together. His fingers gripped the handle of his backpack tighter, and immediately relaxed. He sucked in the chilly air with his nose, threw the backpack over his shoulder with a sharp movement, and blinked.
"Who's going to protect you then?" he threw in childishly.
Du Hyun looked at his brother with pale eyes, whose lashes had frost on them, and straightened up, stubbornly throwing:
"I've been thinking of taking up sports lately."
Jensen, hearing this, laughed out loud.
"Sports? The penguins would sooner go extinct than you would start playing sports."
A small fist landed on his forearm, jokingly shoving. Hyun feigned offense, turning away from the guy and picking up his step, but slowed down when he felt ice beneath his feet. Jensen easily caught up with his brother and smiled as he leveled beside him.
The atmosphere between them smoothed out after a few jokes, returning to normal.
When they finally reached the bus stop, it was even darker outside. Du San sent them some concerned messages, probably the entire parent section had already heard about the incident in the mess hall, and asked when they would be back. After typing a few messages from the two of them, Hyun tucked the phone into his pocket with trembling fingers and raised his head, looking up at the cloudy crescent moon in the black sky. Jensen, who was nearby, was boredly kicking clumps of snow on the ground. Under the transparent roof of the bus stop were several other people, staring at their phones.
"Did you know this guy well?" asked Jensen.
Hyun looked at him and shrugged his shoulder.
"We were classmates for two years. Chatted a couple of times, about school mostly, but he's a normal guy. Didn't get into any shit like that," the flick landed on his forehead with a loud snap. Hyun flinched, looking at his brother with displeasure, and tsked. "'Anyway, just a regular kid. Participated in three school marathons that his father attended. Well...he looked happy."
His pale face went dark all at once. Jensen, noticing the change in mood, froze, and after a second gave his brother a reassuring pat on the shoulder. He looked up with round eyes.
"Do you want me to come to the marathons and cheer you on? I'll bring colorful pom-poms and yell, "Hyun-oppa, go!" he mimicked an enthusiastic fan and laughed when an embarrassed Hyun blushed when he saw the oblique stares of strangers at the bus stop and pecked him on the arm.
"Shut up," the teenager hissed, but the corners of his lips did lift slightly.
With a warm smile, Jensen obediently fell silent, staggering slightly from his brother's weightless blows. They leaned against each other and looked in the direction the bus was supposed to come from.
Exhaling a cloud of steam, Hyun pondered and said:
"Thank you..." Jensen turned his head at his voice and pressed his lips together. "Well, for being here."
He gripped the handle of his backpack with his fingers and pulled it down, his eyes flitting from side to side, giving away his owner's embarrassment.
"It wouldn't be the same without you."
Freezing, Jensen licked his dry lips and smiled slowly, silent. His face softened as he looked at the short black fuzz on the end of the stranger's cap, dangling quickly in the strong wind.
Hyun stared back at him and smiled, too. A long ago memory flashed through his mind, as he sat in the playground surrounded by three boys he knew, poring over stickers from his favorite movie. Those were talking about superheroes, and when the topic came up about Batman's coolness, they all looked at Hyun curiously together.
"It would be cool if everyone had their own Batman," one of them said dreamily, propping his head up with his hand and plopping down in the sandbox. "Hyun, would you like your own personal superhero?"
The boy with the puffy, soft-pink face took his eyes off the stickers and shrugged his shoulders disinterestedly.
"I don't need Batman," he said firmly. A short figure appeared behind him, handing him a packet of sugary popsicles. With a white-toothed smile, he said proudly. "I have a brother."
Jensen, who was standing behind him in a nuclear-red suit and whose disheveled black hair was gathered in a short ponytail, put his palm on the back of his haircut and rubbed it with a proud, smug smile. The boys, seeing the familiar big man, who was a full head taller than them, cringed at the stranger's scrutiny.
"I remember when you were a sandbox bully," Hyun squeezed out with a chuckle.
Jensen chuckled, swaying on his heels.
"Even the grandmothers next door avoided me."
Hyun hummed.
"Sure, you used to feed the pigeons, and then they'd shit on their balconies.
EL covered his mouth with his hand, hiding a muffled laugh behind it. Hyun leaned tiredly against his shoulder and exhaled, covering his eyes.
The icy wind penetrated under his jackets and licked his skin painfully, sending hundreds of goosebumps down his back.
After waiting another eight minutes, they finally saw the half-empty bus approaching.
Jensen squinted at his brother and straightened up, walking toward the open door, when suddenly he heard the growling rumble of an engine and crouched to his left. In the darkness, where the light of the dazzling street lamps could not reach, stood a powerful red bike, and on it leaned a dark figure, whose face could not be seen because of the thick shadows. A hand picked up a cigarette and carelessly removed it from his mouth. A shaky cloud of smoke wafted through the air.
Jensen's face grew cold. He stealthily stepped closer to his brother and lightly covered him with his shoulder, pushing him into the bus.
"Come on, get in, I can't feel my arms anymore," he muttered. Hyun, sensing his mood, blinked incomprehensibly and climbed onto the bus quietly.
With one last look at the figure engulfed in darkness, Jensen followed his brother. Somebody's keen eyes, cruelly fixed on his back, escorted the departing bus away. A smoldering cigarette, clenched in white dry fingers, fell to the snow and went out.
Pulling the creaking leather gloves over his hands, the man lifted his helmet and put it on his head, lowering the clear visor, through which the dark eyes gleamed.
The bike roared down the track.
***
After his return, Jensen was sent to the nearest store to buy sweet sauces for the dessert Du San was going to make tomorrow. After a little grumbling, he left the house and wandered slowly toward the glowing sign.
There was a long line at the cash register. He picked up some colorful packages of sauces, found the salted cookies he liked to snack on during lunch, and got in line. Just in front of him there were several adult women, arguing loudly about something, shouting over each other occasionally. Putting a smile on his face, Jensen approached them and blurted out:
"You look beautiful today."
The women, stunned, looked at the young man behind them and smiled a second later. They looked like two peas in a pod and even smiled the same way.
"Oh, thank you," the women thanked him at the same time. "Oh, you have so little stuff, come in, come in, the young ones shouldn't be out this late."
Jensen squinted his eyes appreciatively, and squeezed between the ladies and put his purchases on the register. The man behind the counter, tired of swearing, smiled at him weakly.
As he stepped outside, EL sucked in the fresh, invigorating air with his nose. With hands trembling with frost, he took out his phone, poked at the lighted screen, and texted a few messages to say he was on his way home. A chilly wind rushed toward him and mussed his fluffy bangs.
"Hey."
A gruff, husky voice made Jensen look up.
The same figure. The same defiantly red bike.
Jensen's eyes went cold. Turning his attention back to the phone, he hummed at the sad smiley face in his brother's message and moved leisurely toward the house.
The man, sensing the stranger's indifference, darkened.
Jensen moved along the snowy path, occasionally throwing his head up and watching the translucent flakes in the light of the streetlights. The noise of passing cars gradually died down as he turned into the sleeping neighborhood. Tucking his phone into his pants pocket, he scratched his chin against the zipper of his jacket and pursed his lips, humming a tune that came to mind at random.
With a faint sound of snow creaking behind him, he barely dodged to the side when a blade glinted nearby.
Tossing the sauce packet to the ground, Jensen spun around and reached out and grabbed for the stranger's wet collar, sharply pushing the figure aside. His left cheek burned with pain. He touched his fingers to the skin, looked down at the trickle of warm blood, and frowned as he peered intently at the stranger.
The piercing gaze of the black eyes regarded Jensen with distaste. The short figure straightened, a knife slipped deftly between his fingers.
Jensen grimaced.
"What are you, a maniac?" he exclaimed, stroking a small scratch on his cheek. "Wait a minute. I've seen you before. The kid in the red jacket."
Naene pursed his lips dryly. His sharp gaze slid over Jensen, and his mouth blurted out harshly:
"You've come to the wrong people."
EL hummed.
"Really?"
Another blow followed, from which Jensen successfully deflected. It was dark, so he couldn't see the guy's every move, but he could see the shiny blade of the knife, so it was easier to navigate.
Clenching his fist tightly, Jensen leaned forward and slid across the snow, delivering a powerful blow to the stomach. Naene, not expecting such force and feeling a searing pain that shook even his lungs, leaned back. His hand gripped the handle of the knife tighter.
The air left him at the same instant that his fingers dug into the back of his neck and slammed his face into the nearest wall. The cold, rough surface scratched his skin.
Jensen pushed the boy into the snow and leaned his fingers against his bloody cheek with a resounding exhalation.
"Well, what am I supposed to say to Du San now...?"
Naene staggered to his feet and spat out the blood in his mouth on the ground. As he fell, the knife slipped from his fingers and was lost in a large, dense snowdrift.
Wiping his chin irritably, he unzipped and pressed the snow to his neck, pushing spit down his throat in jerks. His eyes rolled up slightly, and he looked as if he were panting.
"Hey," Jensen picked up the grocery bag and wiped his face with a damp palm. "I have a question."
Naene continued to sigh intermittently, leaning over the road. His cold face, which changed only for a second, turned sharply toward the speaker.
Jensen, catching the stranger's attention, continued:
"You obviously know all these nearby gangsters of yours, don't you? And surely you know who might be distributing drugs. Can you give me a clue?"
Naene straightened up, zipping his jacket back on in one motion. The bright red that stabbed his eyes in the half-light made Jensen cringe.
"What else can I tell you? The fuckin' road?" spat out the guy. His curly blond hair, sticky with moisture, fluttered faintly.
"But you came to me yourself. You lost," Jensen shrugged lazily. "Then you are ready to do my bidding."
Naene clenched his teeth.
"I know," he blurted out and turned around. "But before you do, you will fulfill my condition."
Jensen grinned, scratching his eyebrow.
"And?" he wanted too much to go home, to the warmth, so he decided not to bicker and just listen.
"Come see us tomorrow and fight one of our boys in the ring. If we win," Nane, spitting saliva with a taste of iron in his mouth, walked up to the guy who was half a head taller than him and fixed an unblinking gaze on him, "you'll get down on your knees and ask for tearful and snotty forgiveness from all the people you fucked off."
A mocking smirk spread across Jensen's cracked lips.
"Did you learn that kind of phrase from mafia movies?"
Naene bit down hard on his own lip, his expression darkening. He looked like a parent who had been hurt and backed into a corner. He turned away, heading toward the bike he'd left by the roadside.
Jensen rustled the bag, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"What if I win?"
He pulled the perfectly smooth helmet on with a rustling noise, Naene looked around him with a fierce look, and slammed the visor shut and got on the bike quickly. With a furious roar, the vehicle pulled noisily away from the curb and screeched toward the main highway.
"Did he really come to challenge me to a duel?"
Jensen followed the disappearing figure with surprise and flinched at the squeaky phone. A message had arrived from his agitated aunt. Exhaling, he shook his head and blinked. Pain sliced his cheek once more. Bowing his head, he hurried home.
The few streetlights behind him flickered faintly, soon extinguishing.
When Jensen returned home, he quickly put the packages on the table and, with his hand over his cheek to avoid unnecessary questions from his aunt, who was wearing headphones in the living room, quickly dashed into the bathtub. The warm water burned his skin, causing the boy to mooch and wince in pain.
"That little ladybug is pretty good with knives. What a psycho."
Rinsing his head thoroughly, he slid his wet fingers over his bare arm muscles and gently kneaded them, smearing the sweet-smelling gel over his body.
The relief that relaxed his whole body after contact with the water and the hot steam nibbling at his skin emptied his head.
All the complicated thoughts that had been plaguing Jensen's head all day immediately evaporated.
EL spellbound, he watched the stream flowing out of the shower and massaged the back of his head in a measured manner. In the subcortex of his mind, the light question "How's Jamin?" flashed through his mind, but in the same instant, it vanished like a stone drowning in a deep river. Exhaling, he squeezed his eyes shut tight.
After finishing his bath, Jensen stepped out of the tub and headed into his room, wishing Du San, who had moved into the kitchen, a good night. Before the woman could ask him about the fresh pink cut, the man's bedroom was already slammed shut. With a shrug, she began to disassemble the package while listening to an amusing podcast.
Just as he entered the room, the high schooler immediately ran into his brother's faded gaze. Wiping the towel on his wet hair, from which cool droplets were dripping down his collarbones, Jensen raised his eyebrows cheerfully.
"What's wrong?"
Hyun, sitting on the bed, pressed his pale palms together on his knees.
His unnaturally white face, which didn't even have any blood on it, froze like a marble statue. His milky white lips parted, letting out a hoarse, labored exhalation:
"He's dead."
The towel Jensen held in his hands slipped down.
The phone lying next to Hyun beeped shrilly, and the main screen showed a hundred shocked messages from the group chat room.
Jensen shuddered.
"Who...died?" the usual carefree tone disappeared, replaced by wariness.
Du Hyun crossed his shaking fingers and, swallowing heavily, tore his frightened eyes away from the phone.
"My classmate."
An anxious silence filled the room.