GBH 99

However, the question that had risen to the tip of his tongue never made it out of his mouth.

It was true that he had wanted to be friends with Se-kyung, but now that they were friends, there was a lingering emptiness that made him think, “This isn’t it.” There was something he wanted from Se-kyung.

The deficiency burned his throat like thirst and stirred him up like hunger.

Holding back wasn’t in Song Yi-heon’s nature. He preferred to face problems head-on and solve them directly. He liked to be active, to throw punches and grapple. He was fearless and bold, but also cautious in sizing up his opponents.

He had actually been in dirty gang fights and had won in life-or-death situations. High school students were nothing to him. There was no need to drag this out.

But there was only one reason he hesitated. If Song Yi-heon’s soul returned, he’d have to give back the body, so what was the point of asking?

“Why?”

When Song Yi-heon called out but said nothing, Se-kyung started to turn back. Song Yi-heon told him not to go and lengthened his stride towards him.

“… Let’s go eat.”

All he could manage was casual conversation.

“I don’t like soup rice.”

“You think I only eat soup rice?”

For a moment he was irritated and tried to list menu items that teenagers like, but nothing came to mind. Moreover, on a chilly day like today, there was nothing better than hot soup to warm you up. Trying to clear his mind of the types of soup rice floating around in it, Song Yi-heon passed the choice of menu to him.

“Eat whatever you want.”

“Let’s have pasta.”

Song Yi-heon grumbled that young people these days don’t know how to take care of their bodies.

“Is that tasty? I find it too rich and can’t tell if it’s good. It just makes me feel greasy inside.”

When he complained based on his memory of going to a pasta restaurant with Se-kyung before, he pointed out a fact he had forgotten.

“Don’t say that when you scrape your plate clean.”

“Hey, I ate it because it was there. You expected me to leave it?”

Although only the study hall where night self-study took place was lit, the main entrance, which was usually locked, was open, probably in consideration of students staying late to prepare for the festival.

The festival was tomorrow, so equipment prepared by various clubs was piled up like dark creatures all over the schoolyard and campus. Song Yi-heon, who had been curiously observing these traces, spotted an empty basketball court and pulled Se-kyung along.

“Come here for a sec.”

Even though the basketball court was dark, the surroundings were discernible thanks to the streetlights beyond the school fence. Near the stands were balls and scoreboards, probably prepared by the basketball team members for use in the festival, and there was also a panel with holes cut out for people to stick their faces through.

While intact balls were locked in a storage box, a couple of old basketballs that had been left out while being moved were rolling around, apparently expendable if stolen. Song Yi-heon picked up one that still maintained some elasticity and bounced it. It was usable enough.

Song Yi-heon, who had been bouncing the ball with one hand, threw it to Se-kyung. “Want to play basketball?”

“Now?” He caught the basketball but looked displeased. Choi Se-kyung was the type to skip soccer during lunch break to avoid sweating, and basketball would be no different.

“How about a game with a bet? I’ll grant a wish.”

“…”

As Se-kyung hesitated, seeming interested in the bet, Song Yi-heon took off his bag and threw it onto the stands. He even took off his jersey, threw it on top of the bag, and rolled up his sleeves, looking quite serious.

“Let’s do it. I need something.”

“What do you need?”

“5 minutes.”

He needed the 5 minutes he had promised Choi Myung-hyun. When he had boldly promised Se-kyung’s 5 minutes to Choi Myung-hyun, he was used to having Se-kyung by his side. He might have had dark intentions to use Se-kyung, who liked him. So if Se-kyung had given up on him, he needed to steal those 5 minutes separately. He also needed to prepare those 5 minutes in advance for when Song Yi-heon’s soul returned.

If he won this basketball bet, he could ask for 5 minutes. 

Song Yi-heon demanded again clearly, “5 minutes where you’ll do anything.”

“Anything?”

“Yeah, anything.”

Song Yi-heon emphasized it on purpose, in case Se-kyung would refuse if he later asked him to talk with Choi Myung-hyun. 

Then he stared at him shamelessly as if to say, “What are you waiting for? Hurry up and get ready.” 

After pondering, Se-kyung threw the ball. “Okay, let’s do it.”

Se-kyung took off his bag and tie, leaning them against the basketball hoop post, and rolled up his sleeves like Song Yi-heon. Meanwhile, Song Yi-heon, who had received the basketball, was bouncing it and passing it between his legs. His small palms handled the large basketball with ease, as if connected by invisible threads.

“First to score three goals wins.”

“Okay.”

Song Yi-heon didn’t underestimate Se-kyung, knowing that although he had only trained in martial arts, his innate physique and athletic ability were superior, having been beaten by him several times before. Physically, Se-kyung had the advantage, but in terms of experience, Song Yi-heon was far superior. In his mind, if he gave it his all, he had a good chance of winning.

In fact, when he proposed the basketball bet, he hadn’t even considered the possibility of losing. 

“You’re dead, kid,” he thought, suppressing a smile at the thought of winning before the game had even started. His eyes, gleaming with a gambler’s instinct, searched for weaknesses to exploit.

About 20 minutes later, it was Song Yi-heon who was sprawled out on the basketball court, mouth wide open and chest heaving, feeling like his lungs were about to burst.

“Ha, that crazy bastard. What kind of stamina…”

Unlike the collapsed Song Yi-heon, Se-kyung looked no different from before the game, apart from his slightly rougher breathing. No matter how good one’s basketball sense was, it was difficult to overcome physical differences, especially height differences, in a one-on-one game. The saying about kids these days growing well seemed to apply to Choi Se-kyung too, as he defended with his broad chest and shoulders, making it hard for Song Yi-heon to score even one goal.

Frustrated at being sprawled out alone, Song Yi-heon snapped between heavy breaths, “What kind of drugs are you on?”

“Drugs? What a frightening thing to say.”

As if to tease him, Se-kyung threw the basketball with just a snap of his wrist and scored. The basketball passed through the hoop and bounced on the ground, its rebounds gradually decreasing until it rolled on the floor.

“Hey, let’s go again.” Se-kyung shrugged and extended his hand, offering to help him up. 

Burned with the desire for revenge, Song Yi-heon gripped Se-kyung’s hand, determined to win this time. As he was using Se-kyung’s pull to get up, he suddenly lifted him completely.

“…!”

Song Yi-heon, half-risen, was helplessly pulled up, and before he could resist, their lips met. Their long shadows merged into one under the streetlight. The basketball that had rolled to the boys’ feet came to a stop in the sudden silence.

Cupping Song Yi-heon’s cheeks, flushed from running, Se-kyung tilted his head. Both the hand on his cheek and the lips pressed against his were scorching hot. He could feel the trembling in their breath, which had only grown rougher from running on the basketball court.

“You bastard…!” Song Yi-heon, who had frozen at the soft warmth, suddenly came to his senses and pushed Se-kyung away. 

Se-kyung separated their lips but didn’t let go of his cheeks. His firm chest only swayed slightly. “It hasn’t been 5 minutes yet.”

Song Yi-heon, who was about to remove the hand from his cheek, couldn’t shake off the wrist he had grabbed at Se-kyung’s words.

“You said I could do anything.” Se-kyung’s thumb stroked Song Yi-heon’s cheek. “You don’t like me, so…”

It was Song Yi-heon who ended up feeling hurt by Se-kyung’s matter-of-fact statement.

“I’ll give you my 5 minutes. 5 minutes where I’ll forgive anything. So you forgive me too.”

Se-kyung bent down and kissed him.

This time, Song Yi-heon couldn’t push Se-kyung away. Se-kyung had been holding back. That’s how Se-kyung had grown up. Choi Myung-hyun, fearing that Se-kyung might act on his impulses and make his fantasies reality, had suppressed him.

Se-kyung learned to hold back before learning to desire. The morality imposed by his strict father did not allow for obsession with others.

Confessing multiple times to someone who had refused was an obsession. The confession in the library was Se-kyung’s last stand, and behind the collapsed fortress, Se-kyung gave up. He was used to giving up anyway, and desires faded.

Se-kyung waited for Song Yi-heon to fade, but the low-grade fever that had built up over the summer didn’t cool easily.

‘5 minutes… Just 5 minutes. Wouldn’t it be okay to be selfish for 5 minutes?’ 

A moment of temptation shook Se-kyung, and he won at basketball. The surroundings were dark, and no one was watching. In the midst of the wavering thought that it might be okay to be selfish for just 5 minutes, the fruit he took was sweet.

Se-kyung, exhaling a moist breath, pressed his lips.

“Haa…”

Looking at Se-kyung’s eyes, moist as if infused with mist, Song Yi-heon closed his eyes too. He might have parted his lips slightly. Their lips met without any technique, burning hot. Though there was no pleasure, Song Yi-heon’s heart trembled. His body grew hot, and his toes curled.

And he realized what had been lacking. The identity of the hunger-inducing deficiency was Se-kyung. As he confirmed Se-kyung’s feelings, purely pouring out, willing to be used, a sense of fullness welled up.

Just as Se-kyung was unique to Song Yi-heon, he wanted to be unique to Se-kyung as well. He wanted not the Choi Se-kyung who was kind to everyone, but the Choi Se-kyung who regarded Song Yi-heon as special. He needed Se-kyung who kissed him as if clinging desperately.

He wanted Se-kyung to continue liking him, not to give up his feelings for him.

This pounding heart, this desire to be special to Se-kyung, this selfishness of wanting Se-kyung to like him – Song Yi-heon couldn’t yet name these feelings.

He just tightly held Se-kyung’s wrist that cupped his cheek, as if to not lose his way in the confusion.

In the heart of the city, the boys kissed.

Within the fence of an ordinary school, on a common basketball court, they kissed.