MY 9

His heart throbbed with surprise. Han Seolwoo glared at Won Wooje. However, he had his head turned and was only looking out the window. Not once did he look back until the class was over.

They did not say a single word until it was lunchtime. They could not. It was because Won Wooje slept deeply, using his textbook as a pillow.

He slept right through even the noisy break times without waking up once. Normally, he would have nagged him to wake up and study, but he could not do that today. When Won Wooje was in a foul mood, staying still was the best way to get by.

The teacher left and the lunch bell rang. Kim Chanju and Park Seongbin loitered around Han Seolwoo. Han Seolwoo gestured with his hand, signaling them to go first. The kids nodded and, without exception, bolted for the cafeteria.

In an instant, the classroom, where students had drained out like the ebbing tide, was silent. Han Seolwoo propped his chin on his hand and stared quietly at the back of Won Wooje’s head.

… A guy like a ping-pong ball. I really never know where he is going to bounce.

A sigh came out naturally at the thought. His appetite dropped because he was worried. He did not even want to eat.

Giving up on his meal, Han Seolwoo lay down with his arm as a pillow while looking at the back of Won Wooje’s head. A pleasant spring breeze tickled his cheek. The wind flowing in from the window smelled of a familiar fabric softener. It was Won Wooje’s.

… If it weren’t for Won Wooje, my school life would be quite quiet. I could just study without having anything to worry about. Because of him, every day felt like a tightrope walk that made his heart wither, giving him a headache.

His mind became restless. At that moment, Won Wooje tossed and turned, turning his head. The distance between them narrowed in an instant.

Startled, Han Seolwoo unknowingly swallowed hard. Won Wooje’s long eyes, which had suddenly appeared right in front of his nose, felt so close.

A clear, smooth forehead, thick eyebrows, a sharp and straight bridge of the nose, white skin so pale it looked bloodless, and light-colored lips. A small mole beneath them that one wouldn’t notice without looking closely. No matter where you looked, it was a very solidly handsome face.

… Although his impression is a bit dirty.

In the moment he was grumbling, Won Wooje’s brow furrowed. Whether he noticed the cursing or not, he was a ghost-like guy anyway.

Suddenly, he blearily opened the eyes he had kept closed. Han Seolwoo, who had been admiring him without a thought, was startled and closed his eyes reflexively. He wasn’t even cursing him out loud, but his heart pounded.

“… What is it.”

Won Wooje muttered in a sleepy voice. Han Seolwoo held his breath and stubbornly pretended to sleep. It felt as if his eyelids were trembling unknowingly. He did not know it himself, but he had no talent for lying.

A brief silence followed, and Won Wooje spoke again.

“You’re fucking bad at pretending to sleep.”

His heart dropped at the indifferent tone. Han Seolwoo slowly opened his eyes. He saw Won Wooje’s black pupils, still fixed right where he had seen them.

Truly a guy like a shaman. He is so scary that I can’t hide anything even if I wanted to.

“Han Seolwoo.”

Won Wooje muttered lowly. It was an expression that looked unpleasant to anyone. It was clear he was going to pick a fight again. Han Seolwoo, suddenly feeling prickly, did not want to lose. Without moving an inch from that position, he deliberately put strength into his eyes.

“What.”

Won Wooje kept quiet again, staring at him stillly. It was a face where one could not tell at all what he was thinking. Staring at Han Seolwoo like that, he slowly moved his lips.

“… You.”

“…”

“Don’t take another bastard’s side in front of me.”

A pleasant mid-to-low voice echoed. Han Seolwoo blinked at the completely unexpected words. Won Wooje, who had been staring at him quietly, withdrew his gaze. Then he turned his head and buried his forehead in his textbook.

“Because that is a fucking infuriating thing…”

Han Seolwoo’s brow furrowed at the words muttered like a monologue. He suddenly jerked his upper body up.

“… It wasn’t about taking sides, I was just.”

“Ah… stop talking back.”

Won Wooje waved his long arm.

“Wooje’s mood is very dirty right now. Can you please endure it?”

Han Seolwoo shut his mouth tight at the way he dragged out the end of his words. A chilled silence flowed. The sounds of a few kids who had eaten lunch early running around the playground drifted in from outside the window.

“If it were me, I’d believe you.”

Suddenly, Won Wooje said something out of the blue.

“What?”

“If you came back with your hands made into rags and said your hands were originally rags, I’d believe you. I’d even use them to clean and wipe the floor. No matter what kind of bullshit or nonsense you spout, I’d think, I guess that’s how it is, and at least pretend to believe you.”

Nonsensical words continued to flow. Won Wooje still had his forehead buried in the textbook with his eyes closed.

… What are you talking about.

Into Han Seolwoo’s mind, which was lost in deep thought, the conversation from the fight last night suddenly occurred to him.

‘Would you believe it if it were you?’

‘What?’

‘I’m asking if you’d believe the words of someone who came back with their hands made into rags.’

Only then did Won Wooje’s words make sense. He was refuting the words he had said.

“Even if you said you went somewhere and killed someone, I’d say it’s okay. No, I’d probably just come out with a shovel and fucking bury them in the mountain behind us. If you did it, there must have been a reason for it. That bastard must have acted like he wanted to be killed. That’s what I think, that’s how I am.”

Han Seolwoo stared at him blankly at the following bombshell statement.

“But you.”

He continued to mutter in a posture that remained motionless.

“You…”

“…”

“It feels like you just treat me like a dumbass.”

He spoke as if whispering. Then, the sound of a low sigh was heard.

“I’m saying you keep making me look like a dumbass.”

Han Seolwoo could not give any answer to the tone that was serious, unlike usual. It felt as if someone had frozen him with magic. He felt hardened from the top of his head to the tips of his toes.

Watching him in the silence, Han Seolwoo slowly blinked.

“It’s not like that. I was just worried about you…”

“Who asked you to worry?”

Won Wooje snapped.

“I’ve had enough of the worry, so just don’t make me a dumbass. Shit, I feel like I’m going to die of annoyance.”

He muttered irritably, having returned to his usual self in an instant. Han Seolwoo, who had been watching quietly, nodded his head slightly. The strangely churning feeling was odd and unfamiliar.

“… I see, I’m sorry.”

He had thought just a few minutes ago that he wouldn’t lose, but the apology came out easily. Han Seolwoo, who had been sitting still, grabbed Won Wooje’s wrist. As he lifted it slowly, he saw a wound that looked so painful it made his eyes crinkle involuntarily. His stomach felt uncomfortable again.

“… Did you apply medicine?”

“What medicine.”

“You’re hurt.”

Won Wooje, who suddenly turned his head sharply, let out a hollow laugh. Glancing up at Han Seolwoo, he spoke as if he were telling a funny story.

“This much gets better if you put spit on it.”

Turning his head back, he buried his face in the textbook.

“But don’t put your spit on it. I’ll kill you.”

“… I wasn’t going to.”

Frowning, Han Seolwoo jumped up. Then he suddenly limped and ran outside. He came back in soon, wiping his wet hands, and rummaged through his bag. He took out ointment and bandages and laid them out on the desk with a rustling sound. He had intentionally brought the things the other had bought for him yesterday.

“Give me your hand.”

“I’m not the kind of person who gives it up that easily.”

“Stop joking.”

At the firm words, Won Wooje insincerely plopped his arm onto the desk. Han Seolwoo, carefully looking into the wound, squeezed ointment onto the back of his hand and spread it gently. It looked stinging just by looking at it, but Won Wooje remained silent.

After neatly applying the bandage, he stared down at Won Wooje quietly. There were many moments in his life when he could not understand him—well, actually, most of the time it had been like that—but that thought felt particularly strong today. It was a strange sense of alienation that brushed sharply through his mind.

In the continuing silence, Won Wooje muttered.

“If you’re done, take your hand off.”

He looked loosely at his own wrist, tossing and turning as if the position was uncomfortable.

“I don’t fall for such obvious tricks, Mister.”

Even at the nonchalant words, Han Seolwoo did not let go of the wrist he held firmly. Another strange silence flowed. It was just when Won Wooje, feeling something was odd, raised his head and sent an inquiring look.

“Do you like me?”

Pop, a question without head or tail came out. Won Wooje arched one eyebrow at the sudden words.

“What did you say?”

“… I’m asking if you, like me.”

Unlike the question he threw out bravely, Han Seolwoo hesitated. Won Wooje let out a short, hollow laugh. Then he slowly raised his upper body.

“Are you kidding?”

Han Seolwoo flinched. He came to his senses at the answer that returned in a tone no different from usual. Regret rushed in. He felt like he wanted to slap his own cheek for asking why he did that so suddenly.

“I fucking love you. You’re asking something so obvious.”

Won Wooje grinned. Han Seolwoo lost his words and blinked his eyes. Soon, seeing Won Wooje yawning and stretching as if nothing had happened, he let out a deep sigh.

“Right… I like you too…”

“I know.”

What did I just say. Han Seolwoo, with his eyes lowered, gathered the trash and ointment and put them in his bag.

“… Let’s go eat lunch.”