GBH 83

The smoldering red dot fell as Kim Dong-soo threw away his cigarette. In an instant, he struck Song Yi-heon’s head with a fist that showed the bones on the back of his hand. As Yi-heon staggered from the blow that rattled his skull and shook his brain, Dong-soo kicked his shin, knocking him down. Instinctively curling up to protect himself, Yi-heon’s back was subjected to relentless, rage-filled kicks.

“Stop it!”

Through his blurry vision, Yi-heon saw Se-kyung running towards them, only to be caught and beaten. Still curled up, Yi-heon swung his hand to grab Dong-soo’s foot. He tried to hug the shin with both arms to stop the kicking, but Dong-soo stepped on Yi-heon to shake him off. After finally prying off the tenaciously clinging Yi-heon, Dong-soo regained his senses, looked up at the sky, and heaved his chest. He took deep breaths, trying to calm his ragged breathing.

Once his breathing stabilized, he glared contemptuously at Yi-heon sprawled beside him.

“My brother died trying to save you.”

“Cough, hack, gasp…”

Yi-heon burst into sporadic coughing. With each cough, pain shot through every joint in his body.

“The only reason I’m keeping you alive is because I can’t let my brother’s death be in vain. There’s no other reason.”

Rubbing his forehead on the asphalt, Yi-heon turned his head towards the voice and saw Dong-soo’s worn gray sneakers. He must be having a hard time. Is he eating properly? Even after being beaten to a pulp, Yi-heon vaguely had such thoughts.

“Don’t ever show your face again. Don’t even mention my brother’s name. Live carefully with the life you saved thanks to him.”

“…”

“There won’t be a second chance.”

With a final warning, Dong-soo left with his men. Unable to even ask if he had somewhere to go, Yi-heon wistfully watched their retreating figures disappear into the darkness. They vanished into the shadows just as they had arrived.

Even the sound of baseball bats dragging on the ground was swallowed by the city noise. Only after the subordinates were completely gone did Yi-heon painfully turn his body to lie face up.

The outline of slowly drifting clouds was visible in the night sky touched by the city lights.

Having learned how to take a beating since his days with Kim Deuk-pal, Yi-heon wasn’t immobilized, but he didn’t want to move a finger. It wasn’t a physical issue, but a matter of the heart. What was once enjoyable – going to school with a cheerful attitude – now felt unbearably shameful.

That damn school, what does it matter if I don’t go? This is why a pine caterpillar should eat pine needles. It’s because I insisted on going to school when it wasn’t in my cards that the organization collapsed and the subordinates ended up wandering without homes. Yi-heon’s revenge be damned. He just needed an excuse to go to school while turning his back on his subordinates.

He bit his lip.

While it had seemed like the best choice at the time, his sense of helplessness now distorted everything.

Se-kyung’s presence loomed over Yi-heon, who was sprawled out. Unlike Yi-heon who had been beaten indiscriminately, Choi Se-kyung’s face seemed fine, as if they had gone easier on him. His body under his clothes was probably bruised all over though.

Se-kyung tried to lift Yi-heon by putting his arm behind his shoulders. But Yi-heon pushed Se-kyung away and raised his upper body by himself. He deliberately turned his head away. He didn’t want to look at Choi Se-kyung. His gaze, cast far away, fell on the cigarette butt Kim Dong-soo had discarded. He desperately wanted to smoke, and felt childish and pathetic for sucking on candy, claiming he was going to quit smoking.

“Let’s go to the emergency room.”

Yi-heon shook off the hand on his shoulder and stood up.

“After getting beaten like that, you still haven’t given up on them?”

As going to school became shameful, Se-kyung, with whom he had spent most of his time at school, also became unbearable to look at. The aversion to time and space transferred entirely to Se-kyung.

A persistent gaze stuck to the back of his head. It was obvious what it would be. Those black eyes would be looking intently. Suddenly, all of Choi Se-kyung’s confessions seemed trivial. Every confession that had been lovable for its purity now felt hypocritical and disgusting, like filthy sewage.

Anger flared up impulsively. Although he knew it wasn’t Choi Se-kyung’s fault, the fact that he had momentarily participated in a young boy’s love game was humiliating. He resented Choi Se-kyung for clinging to him with claims of love, dragging him down to the level of those young boys.

He didn’t want to bear the guilt alone. As soon as an opportunity arose to shift blame onto Choi Se-kyung, he said things he didn’t mean in order to alleviate his own guilt. It felt like hurting Choi Se-kyung was the only way to heal his own wounds.

“You smooth-talking bastard. What would you know, born with a silver spoon in your mouth, comfortably studying all your life?”

With his back to Se-kyung, Yi-heon clenched his fists. He poured his hatred into Se-kyung’s shadow, partially overlapping with his own on the ground.

“You want to be miserable together? You talk big because you’ve never experienced misery. Guys like you are the first to bail when life gets tough. All you know is how to spout empty words, full of pretense.”

“Yi-heon.”

“You’re out of your mind. You’re so crazy you chase after an older man in a gang even knowing what he is. You don’t even realize you’re obsessed with older men because you couldn’t get your father’s approval, you filthy bastard.”

“Song Yi-heon.”

“Don’t call me that!”

He lashed out angrily, swinging his arm at Choi Se-kyung. Se-kyung knows everything. He knows there’s another person’s soul inside Song Yi-heon’s body, yet he deliberately calls him Yi-heon. Having seen him enter a high schooler’s body and be abandoned by his subordinates, Se-kyung maliciously treats him as Yi-heon.

The anger that sparked from a faint reason had a low ignition point. Yi-heon threw punches at Se-kyung, hitting anywhere he could reach. The blows landing on his chest and face sometimes missed, causing only a tickle, while others connected solidly, making his head turn. Se-kyung, not fighting back, occasionally let out groans that sounded like coughs.

After being hit on the cheek and stumbling backward, Se-kyung leaned against a wall. Yi-heon hooked his foot from the inside of Se-kyung’s leg to the outside. As one leg lost balance, Se-kyung slid down the wall. When Se-kyung’s eye level matched his own, Yi-heon pressed his forearm against Se-kyung’s collarbone.

At the base of the wall, two differently colored sneakers alternately interlocked. Se-kyung’s bent knees crossed between Yi-heon’s legs.

“Haa, haa…”

Their rough breaths mingled, separated by the thickness of a sheet of paper. Se-kyung looked down at Yi-heon, who was glaring at him as if to kill, with a gloomy smile. His usual smile was heavily tinged with a melancholic expression.

“It would have been better if you were hurt more.”

“What?”

“It would have been nice if you were beaten badly enough to break something and then abandoned.”

The sarcastic laugh and tone were intentional. He clearly knew the intention behind his own words. Yi-heon, who had been scrutinizing with bloodshot eyes, shuddered when he realized Se-kyung was serious.

“You’re crazy…”

“I want to pick you up after you’ve been abandoned and keep you locked up. So you can’t go anywhere.”

“You psychopath.”

“I wish you were Song Yi-heon.”

Se-kyung pressed his thumb against the cut on Yi-heon’s lip. As pressure was applied to the wound, blood welled up. A droplet of blood formed next to Se-kyung’s thumb, growing larger. Se-kyung casually rubbed his thumb. The droplet, on the verge of falling, smeared widely across Yi-heon’s mouth.

As Yi-heon’s crumpled face became even fiercer and more pitiful, Se-kyung laughed from deep in his throat.

“So no matter how angry or frustrated you get, I wish you’d remain as the helpless Song Yi-heon and be abandoned by those people.”

Se-kyung, who had been focusing on the blood smearing like paint with his eyelashes lowered, slightly raised them. As their eyes met, his long eyes curved.

“Forever, just like now.”

“…!”

Se-kyung grabbed the back of Yi-heon’s head and twisted it. Although Yi-heon pressed against Se-kyung’s collarbone, it was useless. Their lips met. Blood seeped from their lips where teeth had clashed. Even as Yi-heon tried to push Se-kyung away, Se-kyung forcefully crushed their lips together.

He persistently rubbed their lips together, eyes wide open and locked. It couldn’t be called a kiss. Even in this moment, anger rose in Yi-heon towards Choi Se-kyung who was provoking him. Yi-heon parted his clenched teeth and bit Se-kyung’s lip. The sound of flesh being bitten was chilling.

As the smell of blood intensified, Se-kyung slipped his tongue between Yi-heon’s teeth that had parted to bite his lip. He explored beyond the teeth, persistent but clumsy. Yi-heon, with fierce eyes, mercilessly bit down on the blunt flesh invading his mouth.

They were so close that all they could see were each other’s eyes. Se-kyung’s long eyelashes seemed to tremble, but he didn’t soften his lips.

Gradually, the two diverged in their intentions. Choi Se-kyung was trying to kiss, while Song Yi-heon mixed tongues as an act of violence. It was clear whose flesh was being torn.

Normally, Yi-heon would have gone easy on Choi Se-kyung, seeing him as a young kid who didn’t know his limits. But not today. The wounds Yi-heon had received were too great to be lenient.

He pressed his thigh against Se-kyung’s center, which was crossed between his legs, stimulating it. The half-swollen center quickly grew in size at the physical stimulation. Se-kyung’s eyes, which hadn’t wavered at the anticipated pain, now contorted as if in agony.

As Choi Se-kyung’s seemingly impregnable strength weakened, Song Yi-heon pressed his abdomen flush against him to apply deeper pressure with his thigh. Pinning Se-kyung against the wall with his entire body, their lip lock deepened. Everywhere their sweat-soaked skin touched, heated by the warmth, felt like it was burning. He tangled his fingers in Se-kyung’s thick hair and pulled. The tongue that had filled his mouth retreated, and air rushed into his airway.

With his head pulled back by his hair, Se-kyung seemed determined to continue until his tongue was cut off, his mouth becoming ragged. The intense point of contact was swollen and permeated with saliva. Se-kyung, panting with moist eyes, soon mumbled:

“…I’m sorry.”