GBH 70
by Emerlyn“Did you finish writing your reflection?”
Song Yi-heon asked as he closed the door. It was always this question when he came to pick up Se-kyung, who was writing his reflection. Se-kyung pushed the completed reflection across the desk in response. Yi-heon picked up the reflection written on lined paper and skimmed over the neat handwriting.
“You’re really something. You wrote so diligently even though no one’s going to read it.”
With the school in a state of emergency due to Hong Jae-min’s gang being brought to trial, there was no teacher available to read Se-kyung’s reflection. Especially since the bully and victim were in the same class, their homeroom teacher Jung Eun-chae was extremely busy. Yet Se-kyung still went to his homeroom teacher once a week to get paper and wrote his reflection in the counseling room.
While Hong Jae-min was serving his sentence, Se-kyung was also disciplined at school. Though Jae-min had started the fight, they had indeed fought back and forth, and the matter became serious when Jae-min confessed to school violence. Se-kyung was also counseled and investigated to see if he was involved in school violence.
It was concluded that the fight between Jae-min and Se-kyung was a misunderstanding-based incident, so Se-kyung was only punished for fighting.
He could have avoided punishment by using his family’s influence, but one of the things Choi Myung-hyun was most wary of was Se-kyung developing a sense of privilege. Se-kyung also didn’t want to stand out, so he accepted the admonishment and punishment like a regular student.
Though he thought it would be a dull time of just writing formulaic reflections, when Song Yi-heon started waiting to walk home together and coming to pick him up, Se-kyung found himself looking forward to the days he wrote reflections.
Today too, it seemed Yi-heon had come from studying in the library, as the corner of a workbook peeked out of his hastily zipped backpack. Se-kyung properly closed the bag, tucking in the workbook, and said:
“You read them. That’s why I put effort into writing them. To look good to you.”
Taken aback as he hadn’t thought that far, Yi-heon soon snickered.
“That’s cute.”
His thumb brushed Se-kyung’s cheek as if flicking a child’s. It was rare for Yi-heon to initiate skinship, so Se-kyung, who had been observing his expression, noticed something different.
“You look like you’re in a good mood.”
“Is it that obvious?”
Yi-heon touched his own face. Aware of his twitching lips, he broke into a wide smile as if unable to hold back. He had been trying to restrain himself from boasting, thinking it childish, but when Choi Se-kyung noticed first, he readily spilled.
“I ran into our homeroom teacher on the way and got a sneak peek at my June mock exam grades.”
Passing by the teachers’ office on the way to the counseling room, he had met Jung Eun-chae. She had shown him his June mock exam results that she was going to hand out tomorrow. There was a score Kim Deuk-pal had never received in his life.
Still elated at the memory, full of childlike excitement as if about to open a big gift box, he forgot his resolve to boast modestly and exclaimed like setting off fireworks:
“I got mostly 4th grade except for math!”
“Wow-“
Se-kyung’s surprised and dazed reaction made Yi-heon even more triumphant.
“That’s a huge improvement.”
Se-kyung had expected his grades to improve since he was getting most practice questions right, but he hadn’t anticipated such rapid progress. He found himself applauding without realizing. The perpetual 7th grader’s shoulders swelled with pride.
“Right? It’s amazing.”
Song Yi-heon was truly happy. He had only tasted failure and frustration when it came to grades, but this was his first victory after persistent effort. Overcoming the point where defeat seemed inevitable and he’d hit his limits, this first achievement was exhilarating.
“Thank you. It’s because I did what you told me to. I couldn’t have done it alone.”
And he didn’t forget Choi Se-kyung’s contribution. Whether as Kim Deuk-pal or Song Yi-heon, he had always worked hard, but the difference was Choi Se-kyung. He followed the study plan Se-kyung made, used the learning materials and practice questions he provided, and gradually got the hang of it.
He had built a solid foundation since his Kim Deuk-pal days, allowing for big results in a short time, but it would have been impossible without Choi Se-kyung guiding the way. Now he was even starting to enjoy studying.
“Is there anything you want to eat? Just say it. I’ll buy you anything.”
“I don’t want to eat anything, but there is something I want to do.”
“What is it? I’ll do anything.”
Se-kyung, who had been smiling gently while watching Yi-heon’s childlike joy, held out his hand.
“Will you come here?”
In his current mood, if Choi Se-kyung asked for his liver and gallbladder, he’d give them up generously, so just going over was nothing. Yi-heon obediently stood in front of Se-kyung. With Se-kyung’s thighs spread as he perched on the table, standing between Se-kyung’s knees was a bit bothersome, but tolerable.
“Can I hold your hand?”
“Why are you asking permission for something like that?”
Just for holding hands. Yi-heon grabbed Se-kyung’s right hand first. Se-kyung immediately interlaced their fingers, which was uncomfortable, but Choi Se-kyung liked skinship and often clung to him, so Yi-heon regarded the hand-holding in the same context.
Se-kyung gripped tightly so Yi-heon couldn’t let go.
“Can you hold my other hand too?”
Deciding to be generous, he held out his other hand, but Se-kyung slipped his hand under Yi-heon’s school uniform shirt. Remembering that Hong Jae-min was right-handed, Se-kyung felt around Yi-heon’s left waist. He touched the bare skin covered by taut muscle. Yi-heon frowned.
“Take your hand out. What are you groping?”
Se-kyung found an irregularity on the smooth skin. Indeed, there was a raised, peanut-shaped scar on the waist where Hong Jae-min said he had burned with a cigarette. While two different people might coincidentally have the same pineapple allergy, this specific scar was unique.
The scar that Hong Jae-min personally inflicted with a cigarette existed only on Song Yi-heon’s body. Which meant that this body holding hands with Se-kyung now was Song Yi-heon. As he grasped the meaning, Se-kyung’s mind went blank.
He looked up from the position of Yi-heon’s chest. With cold fingertips, he pressed the raised scar on the waist.
“What’s this?”
“…I must have gotten hurt while exercising.”
Indeed, he didn’t know it was a scar from a cigarette burn. He didn’t know about the pineapple allergy, nor the existence of the burn scar. He knew nothing about his own body. As if he were borrowing someone else’s body.
Se-kyung had been pondering this issue while writing his reflection and waiting for Song Yi-heon to come pick him up. He had been suspicious since the pineapple allergy incident. He had just been forcibly denying it. Hong Jae-min’s statement became the catalyst.
“Let go. Let go and talk.”
As an interrogative atmosphere arose, Yi-heon tried to push Se-kyung away. However, Se-kyung didn’t release their interlocked hands. From the start, Se-kyung had held onto Yi-heon to prevent him from escaping and to confirm the scar Jae-min had left. His eyes, their darkness fading to white, stared at Yi-heon.
Who are you?
Who are you, claiming not to be Song Yi-heon, yet having Song Yi-heon’s body?
What do you mean you’ll leave when Song Yi-heon returns?
He had said the fake Song Yi-heon would leave when the real Song Yi-heon returned. Interpreting “leaving” only as physical distance, Se-kyung had tried to hold onto him, create an identity for him, and go to university together.
But there was only one Song Yi-heon body to begin with. This body holding hands with Se-kyung in the counseling room was the only physical Song Yi-heon. There was no other body to return to.
Then “returning” must refer not to a body, but to a personality or something equivalent to a personality.
If the real personality returns, it means the fake personality will disappear without a chance to be held onto.
“Ah…”
As he grasped the truth, anxiety washed over Se-kyung like a tsunami. His dark eyes became empty. But there was no time to be shocked. More frightening than shock was loss. He couldn’t let go of the fake Song Yi-heon while reeling from shock. If the real Song Yi-heon’s personality returned, the fake before his eyes would disappear before Se-kyung could do anything.
Choi Se-kyung didn’t want to lose the fake Song Yi-heon. He couldn’t lose the only person who acknowledged his desires and made him feel like a normal high school student.
“What’s really wrong with you? Are you sick somewhere?”
Worried by Se-kyung’s unfocused eyes and cold hand gripping his waist, Yi-heon felt his forehead. As Yi-heon muttered that there was no fever, Se-kyung asked a question to distinguish the fake Song Yi-heon.
“Do you remember when we went to Gangneung?”
“Why are you suddenly talking about Gangneung?”
“Going to the sea, eating sashimi, sleeping. Do you remember?”
Unable to grasp the meaning behind this loaded question, Yi-heon irritably played along.
“Yes. I remember it all. I even remember you getting an er3ction there.”
“That’s enough then.”
It was indeed the person who had told him not to hold back, who said he would handle it, with the black sea as a backdrop. It was the moment Kim Deuk-pal became an important person in Se-kyung’s life. That was enough. That person was enough.
Se-kyung wrapped his arm, which had been rubbing the scar on Yi-heon’s side, around his slender waist. Caught off guard, Yi-heon’s bent waist was embraced. Yi-heon pushed Se-kyung away belatedly, but couldn’t stop Choi Se-kyung who was flexibly burrowing in from below.
“Hey, what are you doing…!”
Se-kyung twisted his head and his lips perfectly enveloped Yi-heon’s, swallowing them. Their soft lips touched, and Se-kyung’s tongue slipped through the gap of Yi-heon’s parted lips, stunned. While gently caressing Yi-heon’s stiff tongue as if soothing it, Se-kyung didn’t close his eyes. He stared intently at the brown eyes widened in shock.
Whoever the person before him was, it no longer mattered. Se-kyung would not hold back, nor would he wait. Time was short. He had to hold onto this person before the real Song Yi-heon returned. He couldn’t let him go in vain.
Song Yi-heon, so shocked he was on the verge of fainting, was too surprised to stop Choi Se-kyung from freely exploring his mouth. Only when Yi-heon, with less lung capacity than Se-kyung, ran out of breath and his whole body went limp did Se-kyung break the kiss.
Yi-heon’s legs gave out and he staggered, leaning on Se-kyung’s arm, trembling as if about to pass out. Anger and shock were mixed in a mess.
“Y-y-you little bastard…!”
“I tried to hold back, but I won’t anymore.”
His eyes, which had faded from shock, now glistened darkly as if stained with black ink. Se-kyung confessed resolutely, prepared to swallow everything into a deep, deep darkness, whether it was the fake Song Yi-heon, the real Song Yi-heon, or a third person entirely.
“I like you.”
“What?”
“Handle me.”
Se-kyung’s lips met Yi-heon’s once again.