GBH 136

Ji-soo rested her elbow on the table, angling her face towards Song Yi-heon to show her best side. The dim lighting in the gopchang restaurant naturally created an Instagram filter effect. 

Ji-soo deliberately flipped her long straight hair to one side and asked, “There are a lot of pretty girls in our class, right?”

“All girls are pretty.”

It was clearly an empty platitude. Song Yi-heon didn’t find any girl in the class pretty. At first glance, this could sound like good news that he wasn’t interested in any girl in the class, but the problem was that Ji-soo was also part of that class.

If she already didn’t appear pretty to Song Yi-heon, she needed to appeal with other charms. Ji-soo tried to casually probe Song Yi-heon’s preferences.

“Then what kind of pretty do you like? There are different types of beauty, right? The pure style? Cute?”

As she spoke, it started to sound like an interrogation, but the drunk Song Yi-heon didn’t seem to mind. He pondered seriously, and Ji-soo waited, sipping soju to wet her throat. She spotted a soju advertisement poster behind Song Yi-heon featuring the singer Jeong-hwa in a tight dress emphasizing her glamorous figure. 

This inspired her next question, “Or maybe sexy?”

“Sexy?” Song Yi-heon, who had only been pondering how he liked prettiness, finally showed a reaction. 

Ji-soo nodded her head enthusiastically, “Yes, sexy. Like singers Jeong-hwa or Yuna.”

“They’re okay, I guess.”

Even if you’re not particularly interested, you naturally come to know famous celebrities when you’re a teenager. Song Yi-heon nodded as their faces came to mind upon hearing their names. They were certainly more attractive than chirping high school girls.

But it wasn’t enough. More than just a voluptuous body was needed to provide sexual stimulation. Something that makes blood rush and arouses you when masturbating. For example, a low voice whispering in your ear to scratch your sexual senses, or a firm body pressing against you during intense kissing. And a delicate, pretty face.

“But when it comes to sexy…”

Song Yi-heon emptied his soju glass. Maybe because he was drunk, but his tongue licking his lips, wet with clear alcohol, looked particularly red. Ji-soo, who had been focusing on his lips to hear about his ideal type, unconsciously swallowed.

“It’s Choi Se-kyung.”

“Ah…”

Ji-soo let out a short sigh. Song Yi-heon was gay. The rumor she had forgotten about for the past year suddenly came back to her.

* * *

The cold wind sobered them up a bit as they left the bar. Song Yi-heon and Se-kyung took a taxi, dropping off the blacked-out Ji-soo in front of her apartment complex. The “Director Shin” they had contacted when leaving was waiting in pajamas and a padded jacket, and took over Ji-soo. He patted the back of his intoxicated daughter who couldn’t come to her senses, and thanked Song Yi-heon and Se-kyung.

After exchanging goodbyes and promises to meet at the next early morning soccer gathering, they parted ways. As they left the apartment complex, Song Yi-heon thought about having another drink with Se-kyung, but he didn’t feel like it. To be precise, he felt annoyed.

“Let’s walk for a bit.”

“Okay.”

It was late, and there were few pedestrians in the apartment complex. Street lamps placed at regular intervals along the sidewalk lit up the path like spotlights on a stage. The wind cutting through the air was sharp. Song Yi-heon tucked his cheeks into Se-kyung’s scarf, hunching his neck like a turtle.

When Se-kyung stumbled and their forearms touched, Song Yi-heon pulled him to the inside of the sidewalk.

“Are you drunk?”

“I can’t sober up.”

Se-kyung brushed his bangs back. His black hair scattered messily before falling back to cover his slightly rounded forehead. His hand movements were clumsy as he rubbed his dry face, the alcohol seemingly not wearing off. The sweet smell of alcohol spread with each breath under his careless touch, pressing down on his high nose bridge until it flattened.

Se-kyung had a higher alcohol tolerance, but he lacked the technique. Song Yi-heon, who secretly poured away his drinks, sobered up quickly, but Se-kyung, who drank every time he lost in the game, was not in good shape. Their shadows swayed on the sidewalk under the red streetlights.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m dizzy.”

“Come here. Lean on me.” Song Yi-heon wrapped his arm around Se-kyung’s waist to support him. 

Despite Se-kyung being taller and bigger, it didn’t seem to be a problem as Song Yi-heon draped one of Se-kyung’s arms over his shoulder, letting him lean on him. Though his upper body tilted under Se-kyung’s weight, he quickly straightened up.

Misty breath rose from the black shadows walking together like one mass under the orange streetlight.

“Mmm…”

Se-kyung, who had been walking quietly, buried his nose in Song Yi-heon’s hair, smelling his scent. He rubbed his high nose bridge against the dry hair until it flattened. Staring blankly at the reddened back of the ear visible in his swaying vision, he suddenly bit it out of nowhere. His clingy behavior was cute, as if he had forgotten their drunken fight. 

As Se-kyung nibbled on the cartilage with his teeth, Song Yi-heon scolded him, seemingly annoyed, “Are you a dog? Stop biting.”

“Haha.”

His laugh scattered like dry powder, sounding cheerful. Song Yi-heon, who chuckled along, no longer tried to stop Se-kyung’s drunken habit. Se-kyung also didn’t try to stop even though he noticed that the path Song Yi-heon was taking wasn’t towards the main road where taxis pass, but towards a secluded alley.

Song Yi-heon only stopped at the end of the alley where the streetlight didn’t reach. He pushed Se-kyung, whom he had been practically carrying, against the wall. He steadied Se-kyung’s shoulders against the wall as his body slid down, unable to control his staggering. Their eye levels became similar. 

Song Yi-heon called out to Se-kyung, who had his head bowed low, “Choi Se-kyung.”

Se-kyung slowly raised his head, his eyes hazy. His black eyes, reflecting the distant streetlight, shimmered like white foam on waves.

“We still have things to talk about.”

“Things to talk about…” Se-kyung, tilting his head slightly, mumbled following Song Yi-heon’s words. 

His lips, reddened by alcohol, moved slightly. His black eyes, wavering like dark waves, were unfocused as if looking at something far away. And then, a long-held worry, one he couldn’t voice for fear of sounding childish, vibrated his vocal cords with the help of alcohol.

“Am I not your type?”

“What?”

Before Song Yi-heon could process the question, Se-kyung grabbed his nape. As if trying to kiss him, his lips approached, and Song Yi-heon pushed him away in shock. No matter how easygoing Song Yi-heon was, he didn’t want to kiss while reeking of gopchang. However, the drunk Se-kyung, not remembering what he had eaten, was just shocked at being rejected.

The shock soon led to action. Fearing Song Yi-heon might run away again, he hugged him tightly before losing him. With his reason clouded, he didn’t control his strength. Even after holding him in his arms, he was afraid Song Yi-heon might disappear, so he dropped his head onto one of Song Yi-heon’s shoulders. 

And he whispered, “You can put it in me.”

“What?”

Unable to see his face, Song Yi-heon thought he had misheard. He wondered if “put it in” meant his tongue, but when Se-kyung’s thigh pushed between his legs and rubbed, he realized it didn’t mean his tongue.

“I want to do it with you.”

You can put it in. I want to do it. The ambiguous words had a clear meaning. At least Song Yi-heon understood correctly. If he had to express his feelings, it would be “so it’s finally come to this.” He also understood why Choi Se-kyung had been picking fights all evening. He must have been upset about this.

Still, he felt sorry for not realizing how upset Se-kyung was. If Se-kyung hadn’t continued his drunken ramblings, Song Yi-heon would have probably booked a hotel room to sleep with Se-kyung within a few days. That is, if Se-kyung hadn’t continued speaking.

“It’s okay because I like you more.”

“Huh?”

Even at a glance, he seemed to be trying hard to suppress his disappointment.

“Hey, hey. Choi Se-kyung. What are you saying right now? Let go. Let go and let’s talk face to face.”

Song Yi-heon tried to push him away, but he had never been able to overpower Se-kyung physically. Even when Song Yi-heon pushed with all his might, Se-kyung didn’t let go. Instead, his arm muscles tensed, tightening like iron chains. However he interpreted Song Yi-heon’s pushing, his voice became desperate.

“It’s okay because I like you. Even if you don’t like me, it’s okay because I like you a lot.”

As drunk talk often goes, Se-kyung kept rambling without regard for the other’s reaction. At some point, Song Yi-heon’s resistance had stopped.

“It’s okay even if I’m the only one who likes you…”

Eventually, Se-kyung’s consciousness faded completely and he went limp. Song Yi-heon caught Se-kyung in his arms as he was about to fall forward, but he was so dumbfounded that he let out a hollow breath.

“What the hell is this guy saying?”

Too shocked, Song Yi-heon stood there holding Se-kyung for a long time, his eyes wide open in disbelief. In the quiet alley, only the peaceful breathing of the sleeping Se-kyung could be heard.