GBH 98

The sound of running water echoed continuously in the bathroom sink. Se-kyung had taken off his uniform shirt and was hand-washing it under the stream, while Song Yi-heon fidgeted behind him, unable to do anything.

“Hey, couldn’t you have just moved aside instead of stubbornly staying there?”

Unable to overcome his awkwardness, he started to blame Se-kyung but then closed his mouth, realizing it wasn’t right. He was sorry. He was sorry, but for some reason, he felt oddly resentful and couldn’t bring himself to apologize. It was this resentful feeling that had kept him from moving aside in the club room too. Not understanding why he felt so upset with Choi Se-kyung, Song Yi-heon ran his fingers through his short hair, troubled.

Was it because Se-kyung had so neatly folded away his feelings? Because this morning, Se-kyung hadn’t bothered to lift the gauze to check his wound? Because he didn’t like how he sweetly called that dark-skinned boy “Do-young, Do-young”?

None of these were valid reasons to be angry at Choi Se-kyung. Se-kyung was kind to Song Yi-heon too. Hadn’t he offered to help him with the coloring? Just as he was kind to everyone, Se-kyung showed the same kindness to Song Yi-heon, who had rejected his confession.

It was Song Yi-heon, himself, who had stubbornly refused to move over when he could have, and ended up dirtying Se-kyung’s uniform out of petty spite. Though he didn’t want to act childishly as if his mental age had regressed, his tongue felt frozen, unable to utter a single word of apology.

“I’m sorry. I was being unnecessarily stubborn.” Instead, Se-kyung apologizes first. 

Wondering who the real adult was here, a strong sense of self-doubt washed over him. Song Yi-heon covered his face with his hands and mumbled something like “I’m sorry too” through the gaps between his fingers.

Although enough time had passed to remove the stain, for some reason, the washing continued. Finding it strange, he looked closer and saw that Se-kyung’s hand movements as he rubbed the paint-stained area were clumsy. He was rubbing the fabric, but without soap and only gently, the stain wasn’t coming out.

“Is this your first time doing laundry?”

“Yes.”

Was this even washing or just playing in the water? Song Yi-heon was so dumbfounded that he ended up mocking him, but to Se-kyung, it was the truth, so it didn’t sound like mockery. 

“What a pampered kid…” Song Yi-heon snatched the uniform shirt from Se-kyung, who showed him a well-bred background when he let his guard down.

“Give it here.” He then pushed Se-kyung aside to take over the sink. 

Squeezing some liquid soap onto the paint-stained area and scrubbing vigorously, the paint began to come out from between the fabric fibers. The clear water turned colorful.

“Your pants…” He pointed out the red paint stain on the inside of Se-kyung’s thigh through the mirror. Unlike the top, which had an undershirt, the pants couldn’t be taken off. 

As Se-kyung raised his head, looking at a loss, Song Yi-heon asked gruffly, “What? Want me to wash that too?”

Though it wasn’t his intention, due to the location on the inner thigh, the offer to “wash” took on a double meaning. Realizing this, Song Yi-heon quickly tried to clarify, “I’ll wash them if you take them off.”

However, his attempt at clarification only made things more ambiguous. Both Se-kyung and Song Yi-heon, being teenagers with youthful bodies, found their gazes wandering awkwardly.

“… No, it’s fine.”

As both fell silent, only the splashing of water could be heard again. Once the stain was gone, Song Yi-heon wrung out the thoroughly soaked shirt and handed it to Se-kyung. Their fingertips touched as they both held the twisted shirt.

Song Yi-heon’s fingers, having been in cold water for so long, had turned red at the tips. Se-kyung paused while taking the shirt, staring at the reddened fingertips.

Standing face to face with Se-kyung, Song Yi-heon suddenly became acutely aware of the sink behind him. To his left was the wall, and to his right was Se-kyung’s hand holding the wet shirt. He realized he was in a position that wasn’t easy to escape from.

As he assessed the situation, Song Yi-heon suddenly licked his lips, which had gone dry. Se-kyung had kissed him just like this before, cornering him. If he let his guard down at this casual touch of fingertips, Se-kyung would trap him, preventing escape, and pull on their joined hands. And then their lips would meet.

Lifting his gaze slightly, he saw Se-kyung’s lips. Having experienced how those lips felt several times before, Song Yi-heon felt tense, wondering if he might kiss him.

He didn’t really want to kiss. He was expecting something from Se-kyung, but it wasn’t physical contact. Not knowing what he wanted himself, Song Yi-heon just stared at Se-kyung’s lips. The answer must lie in those tightly closed, unnaturally tense lips.

“… Thank you.”

But Se-kyung didn’t give Song Yi-heon what he wanted. He just offered a common word of thanks that could be said to anyone and took the wet shirt. As if their red fingertips had never touched, he cleanly separated himself and left the bathroom, leaving Song Yi-heon behind.

“Huh?”

Left alone, Song Yi-heon was bewildered, not understanding what had just happened. Soon, his face turned bright red as delayed regret and embarrassment washed over him, causing him to sink to the floor.

“No, what is this?”

Not only his face buried between his knees, but even the backs of his ears must have been indescribably red.

* * *

These days, he was personally realizing that nothing could replace experience when it came to learning. Song Yi-heon deeply understood what it meant to be “embarrassed,” why people did the so-called “blanket kick,” and why his classmates used images like “Goodbye, everyone!” in their message rooms.

Song Yi-heon also felt like leaving, just like the girl in the image. To think he had been creating a strange atmosphere with that young boy because he had nothing better to do. Even while solving problem sets, he wanted to scream at the sudden memories that popped up, but Se-kyung was studying right next to him. In his trembling hands, as he tried to swallow his embarrassment silently, only innocent pencil leads broke.

Still, having gained some experience, he didn’t avoid Choi Se-kyung like before. Not only would avoiding him not work, but Se-kyung also acted as if nothing had happened, so Song Yi-heon also pretended to ignore the strange atmosphere from the bathroom.

As the homeroom ended and he was packing his bag, he informed Se-kyung, “Hey, go on ahead. I promised to help the manga club kids with festival preparations today.”

Se-kyung blinked his kind-looking eyes, shouldered his bag, and said, “I’ll go with you. I’ll help.”

“Just go on ahead.” Song Yi-heon, standing with one leg askew, tried to shoo Se-kyung away. 

Se-kyung’s offer to help showed his kindness, but Song Yi-heon didn’t particularly want to receive the same kindness he showed to everyone. However, the good-natured Se-kyung couldn’t bear to see his friend struggle alone.

* * *

Song Yi-heon woke up to the sensation of cool air creeping into his nape. He had been swept up helping the club students who were cramming all their postponed work before tomorrow’s festival, and what was meant to be a short nap on joined chairs had turned into deep sleep.

Song Yi-heon blinked his gummy eyes and stared at the classroom bathed in blue darkness. He must have slept quite soundly; the classroom that had been filled with students basking in the sunset glow before he fell asleep was now dark and quiet. The familiar classroom scenery seemed unfamiliar, shrouded in darkness.

“You’re awake?”

And there was Choi Se-kyung, sitting at a desk. Facing the window, Se-kyung’s long bangs were parted by the night breeze, revealing his white forehead. His crescent moon-like smile, reflecting the moonlight like a water gleam, matched well with the blue night.

Despite being told to go ahead, Choi Se-kyung had stubbornly followed and helped with the work. While Song Yi-heon found the festival exciting and enjoyable to participate in, it was puzzling why Choi Se-kyung, who had experienced it many times before, had followed.

Song Yi-heon got up, ruffling his messy bed hair. The thick blanket covering his chest fell off, and as he alternately looked at the blanket and the empty classroom, he cleared his throat. “Ahem, hem… Where are the others?”

“I told them to go.” Se-kyung picked up the fallen blanket, folded it in half, and placed it on Song Yi-heon’s knees. “Take care of your condition. Don’t overdo it. You can’t be sick on the day of the college entrance exam.”

It was as if he knew that Song Yi-heon’s sound sleep in this uncomfortable place with joined chairs was due to studying until late dawn with nosebleeds.

“Let’s go.”

The corridor they entered after grabbing the bag Se-kyung held out was empty, their footsteps echoing. The school at night was unfamiliarly quiet. It felt different from when they left in crowds after night study sessions. The low vibration of water purifiers installed in the middle of each corridor hummed. It was a noise that couldn’t be heard during the bustling daytime with students around.

“Choi Se-kyung.”

Song Yi-heon’s call also echoed down the corridor, unlike during the noisy day. Se-kyung, who was going down the stairs, turned around. His kind smile seemed ready to accept any complaint.

“You… you, I mean…”

‘Do you really not like me anymore?’