MY 1

“Ah, Seolwoo. Just take it once. Huh? Please, please.”

On the playground where the hot sunlight beat down, Kim Chanju was begging Han Seolwoo. There was no particular reason. It was all because of the impressive Han Seolwoo.

The Hansan High heartthrob, the pale and pretty kid. That idol or trainee guy, the former child actor. People said his mom was Kim Heeseo, who won a Best Actress award. Oh, they said his dad was Ash Lucas. No, he’s the CEO of Han Motors; anyway, is he half-Russian? Whatever, he’s the only son for three generations with a jackpot of good genes, and they supposedly raised him on white rice mixed with gold dust. Right, they said his uncle was the President; there were all sorts of rumors behind his back.

“Hey, seriously, please just once! She said she’d only introduce me to Sohee if I did that. I told her even just being friends is fine. She just wants your number. Huh? I’ll do fucking everything you ask me to do.”

The cracked voice trailed on. Kim Chanju rubbed his palms together so hard they might wear away.

Han Seolwoo, who was sitting on the stone steps flipping through a vocabulary book, shook his head firmly. His chestnut hair fluttered softly.

“Ah, I said nooo.”

“No, I’m telling you she’s crazy pretty! Just look at a photo at least!”

“Ah—, I said noooooo!”

The sound of pages turning was thick with annoyance. Even as he refused irritably, he didn’t lose his playful demeanor.

“Why do you hate the idea so much, seriously!”

“I just do!”

“I mean, you don’t even have a girlfriend…!”

“He said he doesn’t want to, you fucker.”

Thud. A soccer ball suddenly flew in, hit Kim Chanju’s head, and dropped. The sound of sneakers dragging followed.

“Why are you acting like a bitch since morning, you pussy-obsessed piece of shit? Want to die?”

The sharp, spat-out curse made the surroundings go quiet as if cold water had been poured over them. The ambient temperature suddenly seemed to drop about ten degrees.

Glancing warily, Kim Chanju pulled his legs in and shrank back. His already dark face turned even darker.

“Ah! No… I was just asking a favor.”

Won Wooje, who approached with a trudge and his hands in his pockets, lightly kicked the soccer ball up with his toe. The group following behind him snickered and laughed.

“Come on, friend, come on—.”

Won Wooje bounced the ball against Kim Chanju’s temple again. Thud. Kim Chanju’s head, fixed in a frown, shook slightly.

“Mr. Kim Chanju. That’s not your problem, your problem. Huh? If you don’t know your place, ask about that, and stop whining about being set up with girls, you brat.”

Thud, thud. The soccer ball moved back and forth between Won Wooje’s hand and Kim Chanju’s head. Kim Chanju’s head shook bit by bit as his complexion stiffened accordingly.

“Stooop.”

A palm suddenly darted out, and the soccer ball hit it with a thud and fell. At Han Seolwoo’s sudden intervention, Won Wooje’s speech stopped abruptly.

A sudden silence falls. Won Wooje, who was staring blankly at him, took steady steps forward. The surrounding air froze chillingly in his wake.

“…What.”

One corner of Won Wooje’s mouth curved up slightly.

“Did our Seolwoo-ie finish all his homework?”

Leaning over, he laughed as he wrapped an arm around Han Seolwoo’s shoulder. Unlike his sharply slit eyes and cool face with an exposed forehead, his aegyo-filled intonation felt quite affectionate.

“If you were done, you should have said so, Wooje was surpriiised.”

Won Wooje grabbed Han Seolwoo’s cheek. His eyes, blooming with a mischievous smile, crinkled deeply. Han Seolwoo, whose mouth suddenly protruded like a duck’s beak, furrowed his brows. The students who were watching for his reaction burst into laughter simultaneously.

“Ah, Won Wooje.”

“Ugh.”

“Ah, I’ve got goosebumps right now. Hey, feel this. Chicken skin.”

Amidst the commotion, Han Seolwoo roughly pried Won Wooje’s hand off. He didn’t forget to give a sidelong glare. Won Wooje just kept grinning.

“Does Chanju have her photo? Let me see.”

Park Seongbin held out his hand. Kim Chanju, who had been shriveled up, snatched the opportunity and fumbled to take out his phone. About a dozen eyes gathered on the screen.

“Ohhh.”

The admiration was quick. The girl’s appearance could be deduced by the reaction speed alone.

“She’s fucking pale.”

“Ack! This bastard’s drooling!”

“Uwaaa.”

Hey, let me see. Kim Chanju’s phone went here and there like a human wave. Kim Chanju’s shoulders, having become the center of attention in an instant, rose and fell like waves too.

“Fuck, but she’s a bit tanned. She’d have to be at least like Seolwoo.”

Park Seongbin, who finished viewing first, looked at Han Seolwoo. Choi Sangyoon nodded at those words.

“In my life, I’ve never seen anyone paler than this guy.”

“Agreed, agreed. Isn’t Seolwoo actually mixed race?”

In the middle of the loud laughter and commotion, Han Seolwoo remained consistently dismissive. As if it were a familiar occurrence, he kept his eyes down and worked diligently on math problems.

“If Seolwoo did drag, it would be fucking insane. Wouldn’t it be a finished product just by putting a wig on him? Since we’re talking about it, how about pushing for the talent show? Go?”

“Ah, for now, I’m in favor.”

“Me too.”

“What are you saying, you morons.”

Won Wooje’s face turned serious. Among the guys who were all snickering, he was the only one whose expression had completely hardened.

“That’s sexual harassment. You fucker.”

At the threatening hand suddenly raised, Park Seongbin hunched his shoulders. A clumsy smile was etched on his face as he glanced warily.

“Ah, why. It’s a joke.”

“Can I pull out your dick as a joke?”

An arm lunged out and roughly grabbed Park Seongbin’s waistband. Startled, he stepped back and widened his eyes.

“Ah, what are you doing!”

“Why, I think it’ll be fucking awesome, let’s have a look.”

“No, Wooje, why are you always only picking on me—.”

“I said let’s have a look.”

Won Wooje lunged at him somewhat violently.

“Ah! Hey! Ahhh! Don’t, hey!”

In an instant, Park Seongbin, spread-eagled on the ground, struggled while coughing. His face flushed red with embarrassment.

Han Seolwoo let out a sigh. He snapped the vocabulary book shut, stood up, and pulled Won Wooje’s shoulder.

“Stooop it.”

“Hmm?”

“…If you bully him, I’m telling your mom.”

At the half-joking words, laughter broke out around them. Won Wooje, who sat on top of Park Seongbin with his legs spread wide, looked down at him.

“Seongbin-ie, are you gonna tell on me?”

“Ah, fuck…”

“Sorry, sorry. It’s a joke, a joke. Don’t call my mom, promise?”

When he tapped his cheek with the back of his hand sarcastically, Park Seongbin turned his head this way and that to avoid it.

The bell rang at just the right time. Won Wooje, getting up slowly, tilted his head from side to side as he walked.

“Ah—, fuck. It’s Korean class. Should I skip?”

The moment he turned his back while narrowing his brows, a hem of his gym clothes was caught by someone’s hand. Won Wooje slowly raised his gaze. His eyes met Han Seolwoo’s, who was looking at him.

“What’s this, what’s this. How cute.”

At the sly words, Han Seolwoo let out a faint sigh. He turned his head with a calm face and led him along.

“You look like a thug.”

“Eh?”

“Just, keep it moderate.”

At the scolding words delivered without even a glance, Won Wooje grinned. He looked at Han Seolwoo’s fluffy hair with his long, slit eyes.

“I don’t wanna.”

Won Wooje reached out and poked his cheek. The pale and soft cheek dipped in as much as he pressed. Han Seolwoo just walked ahead without a word. Won Wooje followed right behind him.

Poke, poke. Poke.

By the time his cheek was turning red from the excessive joking, Han Seolwoo looked up with narrowed eyes. “Ah, what are you doing.” As he lowered his voice and cupped his cheek, Won Wooje was all smiles.

“Buying glutinous rice cakes, two thousand won.”

Han Seolwoo, who was looking at him with narrowed eyes, turned his head as if giving up.

“…I don’t sell at that price.”

“How much is it then?”

Won Wooje asked without a second’s gap.

“Yes? Please give me an offer, boss.”

At the slyly whispered words, Han Seolwoo looked at him again. Meeting the suggestive gaze staring at him, he let out a deep, faint sigh. Han Seolwoo turned his head again. Without ever offering the price he wanted.

୨ৎ

—Won Wooje.

Han Seolwoo and Won Wooje even have similar-looking names.

‘eo, u’, ‘u, e’.

The consonants too.

‘siot, ieung’, ‘ieung, jieut’.

The vowels are the same as well. Regardless, it was Won Wooje’s claim that everything he said was right.

The two had been together consistently from the moment they were born until now. Since they had stuck together through kindergarten, elementary school, middle school, and high school, they had essentially spent their entire lives together based on their age of seventeen. It was because their mothers were best friends who couldn’t live without each other.

Won Wooje liked Han Seolwoo, and Han Seolwoo followed Won Wooje well. Won Wooje, who had grown up, enjoyed being sly about their relationship whenever he was bored.

Saying where the needle goes the thread follows, or a friend follows a friend to Gangnam, or something about the thread of fate, or Liu Bei and Guan Yu’s fraternal bond and therefore something or other about a blood oath—he talked a big game even though he had never even read Romance of the Three Kingdoms.

Won Wooje’s family background was not smooth. His parents divorced when he was in third grade of elementary school, and while his mother held custody, all the ‘wealth’ belonged to his father. His mother did not have enough money to start a new life alone with her son.

Thus, the mother and son lived in a small house at the edge of Unil-dong for about three years. Those days were still counted as the moments Won Wooje most wanted to erase from his memory. It was a continuation of shabby and miserable days.