Archive of Our Own

I

One more year until he graduates. 12 months. 365 days. 

When he was younger, his father would always use one of those sandglass clocks to represent the passing of time. That helps you understand how long things take. Duration. The concept of it is pivotal to mastering time management in general. 

Three minutes. 90 seconds.

It’s faster than a simple game of ping pong. Faster than a car. Faster than someone pitching a ball to a batter. Faster than a jab straight to the face. If you don’t get it by now, it’s fast, so in fencing, hesitation is your enemy. 

15 points to win. 

In a single second, on his best day, Matthew can get three. It’s not good enough. He needs to be able to get five if he ever wants to qualify for something greater. That’s what he’s lacking right now. To be able to even pin point it is a move in the right direction. 

Matthew lifts his head as he lowers the foil mask over his face. Nearby he hears the instructor say en garde, that means he has to get into position. That means this bout is about to start and he has to throw all his thoughts away in order to win. 

“Pret?”

Who his opponent is doesn’t matter. Matthew can sense anyone’s movements. He’s not shaken easily. He’s in the top three of his class. He can't be beaten so simply. 

He raises his fencing blade, eyes centered on the faceless opponent in front of him, and lets his mind go blank. Perfect.

“Allez!”

It’s like a conversation. A debate, he should say. You have to take turns. You can’t just stab all you want even if that’s what Matthew wishes he could do to some people. The hack is making it a brutal conversation. Yelling words back and forth like a couple on the verge of divorce. That’s it, no mercy. 

Matthew wins the bout, easily. But the feeling of victory doesn’t come until his instructor is holding his hand above his head. Only then, does Matthew remove his mask and let himself be immersed in the world again.

II

Prestige is not always good, in Matthew’s opinion. 

This boarding school, referred to as The Academy, is really just a shit hole gilded in gold. Most students don’t ask to be enrolled here, they get sent here. Whether that be by their parents—who just don’t want children to look after—or because you’ve done something bad. Maybe you need to find a new path before you hike down the wrong one. Here, they transform delinquents into young adults who represent the future leaders of the nation. 

Or, that’s what they say. The tuition is hefty. Matthew's here on a scholarship of some sort that he never knew the real scale of. Maybe that has something to do with why he has to complete the program, before he goes home.

Matthew was one of the kids with parents who just didn't want him. A runt, if you may. It took him some time to get over that. He has everything he could ever want here: a strict curriculum, a mattress that’s solid as a rock, and how could he forget, monthly phone calls back home. Hi sweetie, I miss you and can’t wait until you graduate. I’m so proud of you and all you’ve accomplished. Are you well? Do you eat enough there? That’s how they usually go if it’s his mother calling. On the off chance that his father calls, it’ll be more silent. More of his father asking about how fencing is going and if he plans to try for the Olympic team. Matthew usually laughs. The Olympic team. Sure. Once he caught word of his son partaking in something, his father bet everything on it being a success.

Anyway, transformed delinquent or abandoned kid, everyone at The Academy has an outlet. Fencing is his. 

It’s an old combat sport. Nothing of the likes of basketball, football, and all of the other games Matthew’s always known. When he got here, he wanted to do nothing—still upset at the reality of being exiled to an unknown place. Only 13 years old. 13 years old. What does a 13 year old know? But he noticed something strange going on around him. Everyone that came in with him got over it quickly. They moved on. Adapted. That was the difference between Matthew and the rest.

Even in a group full of outcasts, Matthew was still the runt. 

Fencing found him on a rainy day—little before noon. He was walking from the courtyard to his dorm after lunch before these noises filling the hallways caught his attention. Back then, he never had a reason to go to other parts of the campus. Especially when you’re in the under 15 section, you don’t do much but study and go to places you’re ordered to go to. On a whim, Matthew decided to walk to the end of the hall—to where all the wide windows were that allowed you to view into the room. 

What he saw were things he had never seen before.

Being a little naive, he thought he was looking at the Arts Department. There were people dressed up in white costumes with their faces hidden away. It was a funny, yet a creepy kind of sight. Then, he saw the swords (what he now knows as a foil) and figured that what he was viewing wasn’t just dress-up games. 

He stood there for a while. Mesmerized by the sight before him—by the form of battle between two people. He wanted to do that. He wanted to hold a sword and stick it into someone. That probably felt really good. 

So when Matthew turns 15 in the spring semester, he signs up. 

III

“Don’t you have any friends on the fencing team? I feel like you’re in here every moment of the day.”

Matthew doesn’t spare a glance to his roommate, Taerae, as he walks into their shared dorm. His textbook is of much more importance. He’s lying. He’d rather bash his head into a wall instead of reading another page about Physics. He’s never really been that good at studying, but midterms are around the corner. If he doesn’t pass, he can’t fence anymore. 

“Taking that as a subtle way of saying no,” Taerae says. Matthew hears a thud on the ground which is probably the other boy’s guitar case. Who knows how he hauls that thing around campus every day. 

“I do have friends,” Matthew defends himself, beginning to copy a practice problem into his notebook. Taerae’s new here. A transfer who came last year. Matthew can’t get offended by his observations if that’s all he’s ever given Taerae to go off of. If he seems like a friendless hack then so be it.

“You’re my friend,” Matthew smiles, with a ring in his voice. He puts his pencil down and twists on his stool towards Taerae. He deserves a break of some sort. He’s been at it for hours. 

Taerae glances up at him, glasses nearly sliding off the bridge of his nose as he pulls his shoes off. “I said on the fencing team.”

“So we have to stick with cliques now? I don’t tell you to hang out with people only in the band,” Matthew responds, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Thank god, I hate those people,” Taerae whines out when he finally gets his shoes off. Matthew watches him ungracefully stretch himself across his bed before he turns on his side away from him. He looks so small like that, it's weird. 

“But what about Hanbin and Hao? They were the first people you ever introduced me to.”

Matthew shifts in his seat and focuses his attention back to his textbook. “I’m still friends with them.”

“But you don’t hang out with them. Why?”

He's asking a lot of questions. He picks up his pencil and unintentionally feels his grip tighten. Because I compare myself to them too much. We’re competition. I don’t see myself as the best around them. I can only be the best. 

“It’s...nothing. We’re just all busy these days.” Which isn't a lie. Matthew's a year away from completing the program and so are Hao and Hanbin. Soon, they won't know each other anymore and nothing that went on here will matter.

“Kay. Forget I asked,” Taerae says with a raised hand.

IV

“Matt-chu, how’s midterms treating you?” Hao drops his bag beside him and follows it to the ground. His red hair looks messy and mused from sleep even though it’s nearing four in the afternoon. Usually he and Hanbin enter practice together, arm in arm, in that gross couple-ish way.

Matthew shoves his hand into his glove and straps it tight. “Kicking my ass. What about you?” 

“I bet. If you need help with Physics just let me know. I can tutor you,” Hao offers. Tutor is code for letting Matthew cheat off of him. He wishes he was a goody-two-shoes when it came to that kind of thing, but he’s not. It's not like he'll be scientist or anything when he grows up. Stupid elective requirements. 

“Thanks Hao.”

Hao leans back on his palms, bending his arms. He nods with his eyes closed. “No problem.” Matthew studies him momentarily—gaze falling down from his eyes to his lips that look kind of swollen? As if on cue, Hanbin is rushing through the doors of the room. Matthew immediately notices how his gear looks disheveled. Ah.

Matthew laughs quietly to himself, putting two and two together immediately after that. Thank heavens Hanbin takes a spot next to his other group of friends instead of by them. Who even knows what they did in the locker room. Matthew kicks the thought out of his head and focuses on fixing his attire for today’s practice. 

V

Matthew knows how every person a part of the fencing team moves by this point. Each person’s body language gets processed into his head like code for a computer and it stays there for good. He used to not be like this; he used to be very jumbled and disoriented as a fencer. Now that he's evolved, it makes him an unlikely opponent, a dreaded opponent. Matthew’s good. Better than good. 

He glances to his left at a bout between Hanbin and some other person. Intense. Hanbin will probably win that.  

He’s just not the best. 

He’s beat 3 people already. Easy work. But something happens when he gets to the fourth person. His fourth opponent.

As Matthew steps up onto the mat, he realizes something. 

He doesn’t recognize him. It's even harder since his face is already covered. The broad shoulders and tall height don't make sense. No one in their team is that tall.

For all of Matthew’s five years of being a part of The Academy's fencing team, he has no idea who he's about to face off against. How could he be so careless?

This should be no problem. Matthew’s opponent has never mattered. This is how it is when you get to the real thing, the…Olympics, if that’s even feasible. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Matthew can’t show the slightest bit of hesitation. 

He hears Allez! and just, goes for it. He who serves first always wins. Tennis saying. Unrelated, he knows. 

Matthew makes contact, but it isn’t an easy task. His opponent defends well—opting for shifting his weight around quickly so Matthew misses his attack, multiple times. Unbelievable, Matthew catches himself thinking. He never thinks during this. Clear head is always the best. 

It had to be pure adrenaline that got him those two points. Then, it all goes downhill from there. Matthew loses. Which means he’s out of practice for the rest of the day. Which means he’s basically a failure. 

Matthew’s not usually the one to be so hotheaded, but he never loses like this. He rips off his mask, face burning, hair matted to his forehead, and storms over to his opponent. It’s also not like Matthew to put his hands on someone. That’s rude, taught to be a big no, but his anger is like a pot of water boiling over a flame, increasingly getting out of control. Stupidly, Matthew kind of pokes—no jabs—his finger into the boy’s chest.

“Who are you?” He feels dumb when he says it. Dumb for being so angry when he has no right to be. He holds no power over anyone who beats him. Matthew, he’s not even the best. So what is he doing right now?

The stranger reveals himself, taking off his mask in a more careful way than Matthew decided to. Suddenly, Matthew is staring up at an unknown boy with dark hair and a strong jaw. Matthew doesn’t like the reaction his body has to the sight. He feels like a rock just got lodged in his gut. 

Up close it's easy to realize how much taller he is. How much broader. His thick eyebrows crease in confusion slightly as he gazes down at him, and then, then that look is gone. 

Matthew thinks about taking a few steps back away from him, but he doesn't. He stands his ground, even if he’s not big shit around here. His anger mixes into a stream of interest, annoyingly.  

“I’m Gunwook,” the boy says, “Park Gunwook. I was introduced as a new student at the beginning of class?” 

New student, huh. Matthew must have missed that. 

"Tell me why I lost," Matthew says directly. Gunwook's shoulders kind of curl in. He looks confused, a little bewildered by their still close proximity. If Matthew was in his right mind, maybe he wouldn't be acting this way. 

"I..." Gunwook starts, dragging his teeth across his bottom lip. He doesn't know what to say, Matthew quickly identifies. And he doesn't like that. He can tell everyone he's beaten what they've done wrong. If they were too hesitant or two slow. It's simple, because a fencer is able to spot weakness from a mile away. 

"Seok Matthew."

Matthew doesn't look to his left to where his instructor is standing, but he knows that his tone of voice means he has to stand down. "Hands off, you're out of practice for the day if you lost. Now go."

Matthew frowns, breathing out of his nose before stepping away from Gunwook. He gathers up his mask that was previously discarded to the floor, and walks to where his bag lays against the wall. 

VI

The halls are buzzing as Matthew walks through them.

It’s the end of the school day so everyone’s at their lockers and gathering their things. That’s expected. But everyone seems to be talking more than usual. Whispers travel through the air and echo off of walls. If Matthew didn’t know any better, he’d think they were about him. But no, it’s who’s walking a couple feet up ahead of him. 

Park Gunwook. 

People’s eyes latch onto him like those of hawks as he passes them. Matthew hears someone say he’s famous. Another says he’s royalty? One more says his presence here is a product of nepotism. Matthew doesn’t know what to make of all of that—if anything at all. All he sees is a boy still in his fencing gear, with his head held high as he walks through the hallway. Ha. What nerve.

That boy, Park Gunwook, beat Matthew at his own game. 

“Earth to Matthew,” Hanbin says, waving a hand in his face. “You’ve been out of it since we left practice.” He looks worried. Matthew doesn’t know why. He’s not anyone to worry about. 

Hao crosses over to his other side and wraps an arm around his shoulders. “Matt-chu, I saw you go against the new kid. How was it?”

Right. Matthew was close to forgetting about that until now. He won’t get mad anymore though; he’ll take the opportunity to get better. That was just a typo in his code. An accident.  

“He beat me,” Matthew admits, like any good sport would.

“Oh? Looks like someone is coming for the top spot Hanbin-ah,” Hao jokes over his head. 

“He’ll have to get through you first before me,” Hanbin responds. 

Then Hao lets go of Matthew and gravitates back to his friend's side as they laugh together. Matthew doesn’t know what he expected. This is the hierarchy around here. Yet, right now, he’s not even 3rd best anymore.

He’s 4th. 

Matthew hates it more than anything.

VII

Matthew immediately lets his bags fall to the ground the second he steps foot into his dorm. He has enough energy to change out of his gear at the least. 

“Rough day?” Taerae asks, rolling over onto his stomach. Matthew doesn’t respond, because he’s not in the mood to talk. He just continues stripping himself of his clothes until he’s down to his boxers. 

He hears Taerae's bed frame creek. “Okay, talking to myself again. I’ll take that as a yes.” 

Matthew bites the inside of his cheek as he digs through his dresser for a pair of shorts. He spots a black pair and pulls them on before falling into his bed. Right now, his hard mattress doesn’t feel all that bad. 

He has a free day tomorrow. No classes and no practice. So, messing up his sleep schedule like this is affordable. Sweet sleep. All he’s ever wanted. 

Then there’s a weight on the back of his legs. 

“Taerae,” Matthew grumbles into the fabric of his pillow. He lifts his head and looks behind him as best as he can. Taerae is sitting on him. Matthew kicks his leg up with enough force to make him lose his balance. 

“Sit up,” Taerae says. Matthew, trying to not be such an asshole for once, does so. Taerae crawls onto his bed, sitting directly in front of him. Matthew rubs a hand down his face and pulls his knees to his chest. Watching his roommate pull out a paper fortune teller? Like the makeshift ones kids play with. 

Taerae shoves his thumbs and knuckles into the openings. “Give me a number.”

Matthew glances up at him with a are you serious right now look. Taerae nods. 

“Four.” His lucky one.

It’s silly to be sort of mesmerized by something like this, but Matthew watches the paper separate and be brought back together like it’s the most interesting thing on earth.

“Okay…and choose a tab.”

Matthew peers over his four choices and chooses the tab with a poorly drawn star on it. Taerae hums and pulls it back, revealing the words written on it. 

“In your future there is good luck.”

Matthew laughs slightly. “Wow, intuitive.”

Taerae slouches, letting the paper fall beside him on the bed. “Hey, are you okay? You’ve seem…different recently.”

It’s not like Taerae to pester him like this. If he’s doing it that means he really cares about how Matthew’s feeling. “I’m always like this, I think,” Matthew responds, resting his chin in between his knees. 

“You’re not,” Taerae says back. “I know we haven’t known each other for that long, but I can tell when something’s wrong.”

Does he really have to say it like that while looking like that? Matthew blinks at him before letting his legs stretch out in front of him. He rubs both of his hands down his face, like he’s swishing his hands around in a pool of water. “I don’t know—I think I'm going through something.” Something, yeah. Because how Matthew acted in practice today wasn't really like him.

“Does it have to do with fencing?”

No. Not really. Kind of, but not really. It’s more than that. It’s the thing that’s been plaguing Matthew’s dreams lately: what he’ll do when he finally graduates from The Academy. What the moment will be like when he has to face his parents again after seven whole years away.

“Taerae," Matthew says suddenly, "do you forgive your mom for sending you away?” 

Matthew only knows about half of his story. Taerae got sent here from another boarding school that’s a part of the same district. They operate in similar ways. The Academy is just more well known. 

Taerae, he’s not a bad kid. He’s similar to Matthew. Just in a doomed situation. 

He blinks and then nods. “Yeah.”

Not the answer he expected. “You do?”

Taerae turns away from him, standing from the bed and stretching his arms out. “It’s not too bad here. It could be worse, don’t you think?”

Then there’s the difference between him and Taerae. Maybe they’re not so alike after all. Like he said earlier, it’s not like they’ve known each other for that long. Matthew's being too negative. Too spoiled.

“You’re right. It could be.”

VIII

Park Gunwook is quick on his feet. 

Matthew can tell this is a sport he thrives in because of its individuality. In a team, he would probably overpower the others. Stand out, in a positive way, because of his stature and talent. It was the reason why Matthew liked fencing as well, but for an opposite reason. He always fell into the background when it came to team sports. Didn’t like the pressure that came with having to rely on others and vice versa. 

With fencing, it’s all about what you put in to get to your goal.

There’s a lot of nice things Matthew could say about Park Gunwook as he watches him take on Hao. That's the respectful way of regarding your teammate. Your competition. But there’s the overwhelming feeling of hate in his heart. Fencing can take years to learn if you’re brand new to it. Matthew spent 10 hours a week in the beginning mastering the basics. He was nowhere near naturally good at it. 

Park Gunwook has been here for a week and Matthew has heard a lot of things about him. But the one thing that really bothers Matthew is this: Gunwook has only been fencing for less than a year. Less than a year and he still beat Matthew like it was any other ordinary day for him. Matthew doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like Park Gunwook. A prodigy, is what they're calling him.

There’s something different about the jealousy he has for Hanbin and Hao compared to the one he has for him. He knows where the two of them came from. How hard they worked to be the best. Matthew can only blame himself for not keeping up.

But Gunwook, it’s like he’s scorched out a path of fire to the top—burning people along the way, Matthew included.

IX 

Partner drills. Exactly what Matthew was dreading. 

During this time of year, instead of group practice they usually get split up into duos that they’ll work in for the rest of the semester. The fall is off season because of the holidays, so there’s not much to prepare for. Only time to practice and get better. 

Usually, Matthew is paired with someone around his skill level. That’s either Hajun or Junghwan—you know the people bubbling under the best. This time, Matthew is paired with...Gunwook. Just his luck.

Hating it would be an understatement. Matthew loathes this, but he has no other choice. Trying to get out of his partnership with Gunwook would look suspicious. He's already on his instructor's bad side.

Let’s go to the rooftop, Gunwook had said, not even sparing a glance at him. Sensing that Matthew was about to argue against it, he said:

“A real fencer can fence in any condition.” In reference to the low temperature outside. Bullshit. Is he suggesting that Matthew isn’t a real fencer because he doesn’t want to get frostbite? 

Matthew’s rather tucked away inferior complex kicked in because he followed Gunwook up the side stairs without another argument. He beat him the last time they battled, fair and square (no matter how much Matthew wants to call him a cheater). The least he can do is listen. He's mature.

It’s a little before sunset. At this height you can see how pretty the sky looks. It gets dark quicker at this time of year so it’s something you have to savor when it’s here. 

“Hey, Seok Matthew.”

Matthew scuffs his shoe on the ground and picks his head up to find Gunwook pointing his blade at him. What a show off.

The sun on the horizon glows to his left—casting a mix of orange and pink on his skin. His eyes hold this timid twinkle that doesn’t make him look as intimidating as everyone says he is. It makes Matthew’s heart do this…stupid thing in his chest. He doesn't want to talk about it. He'll ignore that. Repress it, if he can. 

“You better give me your all.”

He said that like he was declaring war. Matthew laughs to himself as he fits his mask over his head. Gunwook is kind of odd. No one around here says the types of things he says before a fight. Matthew usually says nothing to any opponent he has. 

“I’ll count us off?” Matthew suggests.

Gunwook nods, putting his mask on too. “As you wish.”

“En garde…”

For the first time in a while, going into a bout, Matthew is unsure if he can come out on top. It's not a great feeling, but he has to win. No matter what.

He bends his knees, then shifts his torso. “...Pret.”

Gunwook has a figure that makes you rethink everything. He looks like he was built to fence. Made to win. When did Matthew become so unprepared in the face of challenge? Stature doesn't matter. What matters is him making contact. Being fast. Having no hesitation.

“Allez!”

Matthew, mistakenly, takes the initial jab. It’s right then and there that he realizes his mistake. He can no longer have the mentality that serving the first attack is always best. It’s not. It’s rotten now. What’s even worse is that he thinks Gunwook expected that of him. He can see the way his eyes pierce into him even through the mesh of his mask.

Matthew’s now a predictable fencer. He's already lost. 

No. That can't be it. Matthew goes into overdrive, unhealthily grinding his teeth together as he pulls out all the stops to get a touch on Gunwook's torso. This is a real debate. A real yelling match. An exchange of blows between opponents. Anyone nearby would be able to hear the clacking of metal, the shuffling of feet against concrete. The sounds of huffs and grumbles as they move around.

Somewhere along the way, Matthew thinks he already unconsiously lost his will to fight. He just can't accept it. After Gunwook makes contact three times, they break. 

“I don't like you. I don't like the way you play,” Matthew says the moment he gets his mask off. His words are flashy. Harsh. But Matthew has never been anything less than honest. 

“Sore loser, I see," Gunwook comments with a nod.

"You're too unpredictable. Too sporadic. I hate it." Matthew doesn't know why he continues on. It's useless. He's thinking out loud for no cause. He is a sore loser. The worst kind.

"Is that what you think of me? A real fencer would acknowledge that as a strength."

"A real fencer could tell me what I need to do to beat you!" Matthew says with a little bass in his voice. He's being childish.

Gunwook scoffs. "A real fencer doesn't need to be told."

As much as anger sears through him, Matthew knows he's right. He turns away from him, sick of staring at him in all of his post-win glory. He lays his blade on the ground gently and sits on the ledge that hovers over another rooftop that he could easily step onto. If the distant were wider, he'd be scared shitless. It's a pretty sight in front of him however. Autumn brings in the dense foliage that crowds the windows of the building. It's nice, before all the leaves ultimately fall off during the winter.

“I hear a lot of things about you,” Matthew mentions suddenly, slightly speaking over his shoulder.

“Yeah? And what do people say about me?” Gunwook laughs, squatting, and then eventually sitting on the ground nearby. Matthew has a thought to tell him to get up or he'll get his gear dirty, but he'd only be a hypocrite. He's sitting down too.

Part of Matthew wants to tell him all the rumors he's heard about him, just to get back at him. To make him feel what Matthew has been feeling since Gunwook got here: lesser than. But no, that's unkind.

“You want me to tell you something you already know?” Matthew mumbles, pulling off his gloves, just to feel some air on his skin. 

"You brought it up."

Park Gunwook. He’s royalty, literally. A prince, that’s second in line to the throne after his older brother. Matthew thought it was a lie when he heard about it. But no, when he looked on a computer in the library, there were pictures of him and his family. It wasn’t a lie, it was the truth. 

“I guess the only question people have is how you ended up here,” Matthew says. This isn’t the place for you, he holds back. He knows there’s faults in that line of thinking. He doesn’t know Gunwook or what he came from despite being royalty. But what he does know is that his presence is messing Matthew all the way up. What could he have possibly done to be sent away from a comfortable life? It doesn't make sense. Matthew's heard the rumors, something about a scandal, but he's not so easily swayed.

“No one’s ever bothered to ask me.”

He’s been here an entire month now. Still sticking out and not fitting in. Matthew knows it’s hard, he'll acknowledge that. He had trouble himself when he first got here.

“You know people here…they just talk to me like they know me. Or tell me things just because of who my family is. I expected it, but it’s kind of weird still," he says, voice sounding kind of small. Matthew glances at him, suddenly having this urge to coddle him. 

Matthew bets. It’s one thing to not fit in, it’s another to have all the attention on you like that. He wasn't exaggerating when he said there are rumors. All people do is talk about him in his other classes; they'll discuss him all period. Matthew has found himself becoming increasingly interested in what they say over the weeks. Just because. It's the guy he fences with for christ sake. However, people here can be mean sometimes.

It's not all mean things, Matthew thinks of saying, but he doesn't. The girls like him at least.

Gunwook shakes his head suddenly, and pushes himself up to his feet. “Sorry, you don’t care about any of this. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Matthew sighs as he watches him go, not making any attempt to stop him. He wants to pull at the strands of his hair until they rip out because deep down, he thinks he actually might care. Just a tiny bit. He shouldn't.

Gunwook has always regarded him with politeness when Matthew's only been mean. Something about that, also makes him mad. Because now, Matthew is an inconsiderate teammate when he never has been before.

X

“Yesterday I told you to give me your all.”

Gunwook comes to a stop suddenly, tearing off his mask and poking Matthew with his blade. Matthew shields his body away, making an ah noise.

“I remember, and, stop poking me.”

“You remember yet you're not doing it,” Gunwook says, putting down his blade and walking closer to him. “Why?” He cocks his head, resembling a puppy Matthew used to have when he was younger. Woah, why is he making comparisons between Gunwook and puppies? He should stop that.

If he’s honest, Matthew doesn’t like fighting a losing a battle. Not in this way.

For the longest time, he had thought that if he trained hard enough, he’d become better than Hao and Hanbin. It was possible, as long as he had enough ambition. But Gunwook, Gunwook came in like a hurricane, wiping away every glimmer of hope he ever had. If he can’t beat Gunwook, he can’t beat anyone above him. He's throwing himself a pity party, isn't he? It's pathetic.

Suddenly Matthew realizes how close Gunwook is to him. Looming over him. “Don’t underestimate me.”

Matthew pushes his forearm against his stomach to get him back. He's barely intimidating with that face. “I’m not underestimating you. God, I wish I was.”

“Then?”

Matthew throws up his hands in defeat. “I lose every time. Why would I want to keep practicing with you?” Gunwook kind of looks hurt when he says that. He quickly masks whatever feeling that was.

Gunwook straightens his posture. “I wouldn’t care if I were losing.”

“You’re a liar,” Matthew says with a laugh, pushing on his arm without really thinking about it. He quickly retracts his hand and looks away. “Nobody likes to lose,” he mumbles. 

“Losing builds character. Strength.”

Matthew has never once thought about it like that in his entire time of being a fencer. He always aimed to be the best and nothing less. Or has he? In recent times, it feels like he’s settling. Settling for being fourth best at that. 

“Let’s go again,” Gunwook says. 

XI

Matthew spends a lot of time wondering what it’s like to have a phone. 

Of course they’re not allowed to have them here. The most they can do is go to the library and sign up for a slot of time to use a computer in the lab. He mostly only does that if he has a paper to write. Anyway, the last time used a mobile device was when he was 13. He had an iPhone, but can’t remember the model. Still had a button if that tells you anything. 

All he knows is what he sees his instructor and teachers using during their down time. Must be nice. 

Maybe when he graduates, he’ll get himself one. He wonders if Instagram is still as popular or if there's new apps. All of those websites are banned on their WI-FI here. Those websites are a threat to the development of children, so they say.

XII

Naturally, Matthew gets curious. 

It’s been almost two months since Gunwook’s arrival. They spend time together nearly every single day because of the partner drills. Matthew even decided to practice with Gunwook on his off day (and he never does that). 

They even start showing up to practice around the same time. Matthew looks at him and wants to say something like are you doing this on purpose?, just to joke around sometimes. But Matthew’s still wondering just how close they really are in the first place, so he never goes on with it. Hell, they're not close and they're not friends. Matthew very straight forwardly told Gunwook that he doesn't like him. Ah, why'd he do that? Can't Matthew be cut some slack? He hasn't been himself in a while. 

He feels...like a freak when he’s gazing at Gunwook’s body in the locker room. Gunwook’s locker is parallel to his and when Matthew opens his locker just enough, he can look through his mirror without having to turn around. He's not a perv right? It's inevitable to get interested, Gunwook is just, the first person he's ever looked at like this.

Gunwook. He has a nice back, a strong looking back. Sure, Matthew’s is just as nice, even nicer, but there’s something about Gunwook that’s so pleasing to look at. Matthew’s eyes flicker down to his small waist next, where his breeches rest loose around his hips. Okay! That’s enough, he decides. Matthew slams his locker shut, louder than he means to, and exits the locker room. 

XIII

“Feeling any shame?” Hao asks with a devious grin as he hands him the stack of magazines hidden in a hoodie. 

Matthew takes them from him and holds it all to his chest securely. 

“Kind of—hey we look so sketchy right now. Why couldn’t you just come to my room?” Hao laughs, like he’s heard the funniest thing on earth. 

“If you want something that’s mine you gotta come get it yourself, Matt-chu,” he coons. “Anyway. This isn’t like you at all. What’s up?”

Matthew stares at him. He’s really asking him why he’s borrowing his adult magazines? Isn’t the answer obvious? As clear as day?

“Nothing’s up,” he responds defensively. Hao leans against his door frame and gasps, mouth wide open. 

“You..." he says, pointing a finger at him and then swirling it around, "so have the hots for Gunwook! What are you…all pent up and stuff? Poor thing.”

Matthew glances around in panic, no one's out since it's late, but he's still nervous that someone might hear. “Keep your voice down!” And how did he know that without Matthew telling him?

“You’re so transparent. I told Hanbin something was up, but he didn’t believe me,” Hao says, rolling his eyes. He perks up, eyes back with that evil glint again. “Anyway, are you doing this so you don’t think about him? Oh my god!”

“What? No! I just…like his body…that’s all.”

Hao laughs, face tinging pink. “Hey...why are you admitting that like it's any better?”

Matthew mimics his flush immediately. He's out of his mind, obviously. He needs to go back to his room. He doesn't even know what he'll do with these. He'll pick a day when Taerae is out of the room. “Thank you, and goodbye now,” he rushes out, spinning on his heels and running down the hall. 

“Have fun!” he hears Hao whisper yell.

XIV 

“Hey, Gunwook,” Matthew says, grabbing the boy's wrist to stop him from moving too far away. “Are you going to the locker room?”

Gunwook nods, glancing down at where Matthew is holding his wrist. Matthew lets go. “Do you have any wrap? My wrist hurts.” He’s not lying, he pushed himself too much in practice today because Gunwook takes no prisoners. And, he could go catch Hanbin and Hao before they leave, or even ask the instructor for some. They’re all stacked with medical stuff, but Gunwook was in his line of sight. A convenient option.

Then this weird thing happens. Gunwook looks worried. His eyebrows scrunch together as he navigates Matthew towards the locker room. 

“I’ll do it for you, just sit down,” Gunwook mentions before opening his locker. “You should’ve told me, now you’ve injured yourself.”

Matthew’s eyes find the roll of bandage in his hand then snap up to his face. He looks away, fixates his gaze on a spot on the ground. “Who am I if I can’t work through pain?”

Gunwook huffs out a laugh as he takes a seat beside him. “Stupid. You would be stupid.”

“Hey," Matthew complains. Gunwook takes his wrist into his hand and begins wrapping it with bandage carefully. “If you hurt yourself, then you won’t be able to fence. Bottom line. If we're doing too much in practice just let me know.” Matthew doesn’t listen to his nagging because he’s too busy observing his hands. Not only how big they are, (not important, definitely not important) but how careful and gentle Gunwook is. 

His eyes trickle up to Gunwook’s face, watching him watch what he’s doing. A small smile finds its way to the corner of Gunwook’s mouth as he lets out a quiet dummy.  

The bad part is that Matthew doesn’t really mind being called a dummy. Or Gunwook holding his hand. Or the way their knees keep brushing. He doesn’t mind any of that at all. He thinks his gut might fall apart. He can’t be serious about this, right? Is this feeling...telling him that he has taken a liking to Gunwook?

“All done."

Gunwook stands up, putting the wrap back into his locker and looking for something else. Matthew holds his now bandaged hand in front of him and marvels at how neatly it was done. 

“Hey, do you always shower here?” Matthew asks curiously, watching Gunwook pull clothes out of his bag.

Gunwook hums. “It’s easier. I don’t have a roommate, so I’d have to use the communal showers down the hall.” Matthew wonders why he doesn't have a roommate. Is it because he didn't ask for one?

Matthew grimaces, thinking of the restrooms in the dorm. He's lucky they have one in their room. “Oh, those are gross. I wouldn’t do that either.”

That makes Gunwook laugh. “It’s actually not bad. I just prefer it here.” Matthew observes him, wondering what his home looks like. It has to be big. Why isn’t he one of those people who’s grossed out by just a wisp of dust touching them?

Gunwook glances at him and then back to his clothes. “Are you just going to stay here?”

“No—I—sorry. Thanks for this,” Matthew says, stupidly waving his hand around in the air. He grabs his things and leaves. 

But when Matthew gets outside of the locker room, he finds himself waiting there. He doesn’t know why. It’s cold outside. He doesn’t want Gunwook to walk alone in the cold after a shower. Won’t he get sick?

A mental game of back and forth with his thoughts persists for a while, before Gunwook is actually standing in front of him. 

“Did you wait for me?”

“Uh, yeah. I forgot I wanted to show you around the school and stuff. You’ve never had a proper tour right?”

Gunwook shrugs. “Not really, but why?” 

Matthew supposes he has a right to ask that. They've kind of unspokenly mended that bad first impression, but the aftermath still lingers. Matthew is still a little rough around the edges. Mad, that he keeps losing. He can't help himself. 

"I'm sorry. Okay? About...the way I am."

Gunwook laughs at that. "Okay. Apology accepted." That was easier than he thought'd it be.

Matthew ends up taking Gunwook to quite a few places on the way to the dorms. He mostly sticks to ones he can actually add commentary about. Like the fencing section of the trophy case. 

“Woah,” Gunwook says, pushing his finger into the glass to point at a certain picture. “Is that you?”

Matthew shifts over to see what he’s pointing at and-Ah. It’s that one. Matthew shuts his eyes out of embarrassment especially when he hears Gunwook’s laugh and hands clapping together. “Yes. I was like 15, don’t laugh.”

“No, it’s cute. It’s cute,” Gunwook says, calming down. Matthew catches sight of his gummy smile and immediately looks away. 

“I hope I can be in the group photo this year.”

“What do you mean you hope? You will be,” Matthew responds, shaking his head. 

“Guess you’re right.”

They walk through the buildings, the long way, so they can avoid the cold outside. Talking about random things on the way. Matthew shows Gunwook a picture he painted when he was 13 that’s somehow still pinned up by the art rooms. Then when they pass the science lab area, Matthew complains about Physics.

“This is me,” Gunwook says, gesturing towards his door. Matthew tilts his head to the side, taking in where they are and spots his own room across the hall. 

“Oh! We’re so close,” he says pointing in that direction, “that’s where I live over there.”

“Cool. If I ever need anything I can just come knock, right?”

Matthew’s eyes widen, comically. “Uh, sure.”

Gunwook laughs. “I’m just kidding.”

“Oh, okay. It would be fine though.” Matthew shrugs. Seriously, he wouldn’t mind. Gunwook is still adjusting to The Academy and everything. 

“Okay, cool,” Gunwook says. 

“Cool,” Matthew responds. Gunwook’s thing is that he never has a problem with staring directly at someone. Matthew supposes he can get away with that because he’s handsome or whatever.

“Okay, well bye then.”

“Bye,” Gunwook responds, a smile growing on his face. He’s not making any effort to turn around and go into his dorm. Why?

“Bye, aren’t you gonna go in?”

Gunwook sighs, leaning against his door. “No, I’m watching you walk to your dorm and making sure no one comes and snatches you up. If that happens, who will I fence with?”

“That's really funny,” Matthew laughs sarcastically before turning around. He says one more goodbye over his shoulder for good measure.

And yeah, when Matthew gets to his door, Gunwook is still watching him go in.

XV

During the next practice, Matthew scores one point on Gunwook during a bout. He can hardly believe it. He rips his mask off and has to stop himself from jumping around out of excitement like a little kid.

Was it just luck? He doesn’t know. However, getting better seems a little more possible now. He can get better. 

Gunwook watches him celebrate, smiling slightly.

XVI

If Matthew doesn't pass Physics, he's off the fencing team. 

It's a typical rule; you have to keep your grades up in order to play sports. Studying by himself isn't working and Taerae knows nothing about science despite being so smart. So, Matthew gathers his books in his arms and starts his journey to Hao and Hanbin's dorm. When in doubt, just cheat. 

But when he closes his door to his dorm, he kind of lamely drops all of his books. Why isn't he just carrying his bag around like a normal person? Matthew squats down, gathering a few up in his arms again, before someone grabs his Physics book for him. 

Matthew glances up, finding Gunwook standing in front of him. 

"Oh, hey," Matthew says.

"Physics? Tough subject," he comments, observing the book before handing it back to Matthew. 

"Tell me about it, man. I have to-" Matthew cuts himself off. When he'd get so comfortable around Gunwook? He doesn't care about his academic problems or any of his problems in general.

Gunwook cocks his head, expecting him to finish. "Have to...?" 

"I need help studying. I suck at it."

"So like fencing?"

Matthew rolls his eyes. "That's not funny."

"I'm just kidding. Hey, I can help you. I'm actually pretty good at it. I took a class at my last school." Last school. Matthew kind of wants to know what happened with that, but he doesn't ask. 

"You're sure? This is hard stuff." Either way, he'll take him up on the offer. As much as Matthew would like to cheat just to get it done, he'd also like to learn something. He also does not want to be in a room where Hanbin and Hao start touching all over each other. He shivers. 

"I finished all my work already," he says with a shrug. "We can do it in my room."

XVII

As Matthew sits on the floor of Gunwook's dorm room his first thought is that it's really clean in here. Then his second thought, as he watches Gunwook take off his outside jacket is that, shouldn't we have done this in the library? This feels too personal. Or maybe Matthew is just being weird again. All they're doing is studying. 

"Kinetic energy is what you're struggling with?" Gunwook says peering over his notebook. They're sitting side by side against the foot of his bed. Matthew's textbook is open across their thighs. Gunwook is, kind of close, especially when he stretches an arm to rest on the bed over Matthew's shoulders. 

Focusing is going to be hard isn't it. This was a bad idea. Power through, Seok Matthew.

"Don't make fun of me."

"I wasn't," Gunwook laughs, he points at the formula on the page. "So you know this, but don’t understand when it's explained in word form?"

"Pretty much."

"Okay, tell me what kinetic energy is."

Matthew looks down at the page. "Uh, form of energy. Motion and moving stuff."

Gunwook smiles. "Okay, sure. What else?"

Matthew knocks his head back, unintentionally hitting Gunwook's forearm, but he doesn't move. He rolls his head over towards him, smiling sheepishly. "Dunno."

Gunwook glances down at him and laughs one more time. "Shall I do a fencing metaphor?"

Matthew nods. Maybe that'll help. Fencing is all he thinks about anyway. 

"Think of it like this. When you get a point on someone."

"Okay."

"When you take your foil," Gunwook says holding up his fist as if he's holding his blade. "And move it to get a point on someone."

"I'm following."

"You're applying force to an object to set it into motion. Now your foil is moving with a new speed because you're making it do that." Gunwook pokes his finger into Matthew's chest suddenly, Matthew jerks. "Then when you touch your opponent, and they, let's say, fall back from the impact."

Matthew knows they wouldn't. A simple touch like that?

"That's transferring kinetic energy. Understood?"

"Not at all," Matthew lies, just to be annoying. Gunwook laughs. 

XVIII

Matthew actually gets the hang of Physics because of Gunwook's help, surprisingly.

And actual help. Gunwook takes his homework seriously as if it were his own. "You're really a smartass aren't you," Matthew says when they're almost done.

"The smartass that's helping you. Practically doing it for you," Gunwook reminds him, handing him the pencil next. Matthew fiddles with it, already tired of doing this for so many hours. 

"And I appreciate it, genuinely," he promises, placing a hand over his heart to show sincerity. Gunwook laughs, looking away from Matthew like he always does when he smiles. Matthew leans back, resting his head against his arm again, this time purposely. Gunwook looks back to him, eyes falling down to his mouth for barely a second before they go back to his eyes. 

"What," Gunwook says.

"I don't want to do work anymore."

His eyes fall back down to his lips again, this time lingering there for longer. It's like he wants Matthew to know he's staring. 

"Well you should probably leave then," Gunwook says next, but his tone, his expression doesn't say that he really wants Matthew to leave. 

"I don't want to," Matthew responds. His turn to look at Gunwook's lips. Pink. 

"What do you want to do then?"

Something about the way he says that causes Matthew to get this surge of forwardness. He pushes himself forward, sandwiching Gunwook's head in between his hands, and kissing him. It's a little silly, considering Matthew's never kissed anyone before. And it doesn't feel like they're really doing much. Matthew's mouth is closed. Gunwook's mouth is kind of closed, but kind of open based on the way Matthew is digging his palms into his cheeks.

"Okay," Gunwook chuckles lightly, pulling one of Matthew's hands off of his face by his wrist. 

"Sorry," Matthew responds, sinking away as embarrassment washes over him.

But Gunwook doesn't let him get too far, he shifts them, so they're facing each other instead of bending awkwardly. He brings Matthew's arms up to rest around his shoulders as Matthew rises to his knees slightly. From this view he can really see Gunwook. And, he's so handsome. 

"This would be more suitable," Gunwook says, hands coming to rest on Matthew's forearms. 

"That was my first kiss," Matthew blurts out.

"Mine too." Matthew slouches a little at the response, feeling less embarrassed now that he knows they're on the same level. 

"I want to kiss you again," Matthew says, tying his own hands together behind Gunwook's neck. 

"I thought you didn't like me," Gunwook mentions. Matthew stares at him. Honestly, he doesn't like a lot about Gunwook. Hates everything he stands for. Status, wealth, a natural talent. And most important of all, he's made Matthew feel like an inferior fencer when all he's ever known was being the best.

"I like your face," Matthew says, ducking down so that they're close again. Matthew rests his forehead against Gunwook's, hesitant to make the next move. His first kiss is out of the way, but where does he go on from here? 

Gunwook stares at his mouth, shifting his head closer until he closes the gap again. Gunwook is soft and warm against his mouth. He tastes like hot chocolate that they give out in the cafeteria during this time of year. Matthew wants more. 

He doesn't mean to be so aggressive, but he kind of crushes the next kiss against Gunwook's mouth. Poking his tongue out in an unexperienced manner. He thinks it goes something like this. Gunwook isn't complaining. And he's not saying it's bad, so Matthew keeps going. 

Gunwook makes a particular noise into his mouth that kind of riles Matthew up enough to crawl forward slightly and straddle his lap instead. Matthew makes a nice and cozy home on top of Gunwook's crotch, continuing to kiss him like he won't ever do it again. 

"Matthew," Gunwook says, breathing out harshly when they separate. "I haven't done anything like this before."

"Me neither. We don't..." Matthew drags off, brushing his lips against Gunwook's again. This is kind of addicting. "Let's just...do..." Matthew loses his train of thought and decides to kiss Gunwook another time. He tightens his grip on his shoulders as he begins to grind down against him. Gunwook's hard in his sweats. Matthew's harder in his shorts.

Gunwook's hands find his hips easily as he shoves his weight down onto him. The way they're moving is uncoordinated and messy, but Matthew doesn't really care. All he wants to do is just enjoy this for now.

"You make cute noises," Gunwook says against his mouth. Matthew feels like crawling into a hole. He's been making noise? He decides to tuck his chin over Gunwook's shoulder and pull their chests together instead. 

XIX

Matthew did something rather foolish. 

He ran away, like a coward after they did that, apologizing and murmuring something about it being a mistake and that he's sorry. 

Gunwook didn't chase him.

XX

At fencing practice, Gunwook does something weirder. He lets Matthew win the bout. A total of 4 touches. Matthew has never been able to win against him that easily.

XXI

Their winter break isn’t really winter break. They don’t get to go home to their families—Matthew hasn’t seen his in almost a decade. That’s really fucked up, he thinks. 

So every year, during winter break. The older kids throw parties on the weekend. Most of the staff go home or either look after the younger kids because they need it more, so it’s easier to get away with things. The brave faced ones skip campus and go raid the nearby corner store for booze and all that. Matthew’s never been the type to go do that kind of thing. Hao is. That’s where he got those magazines from in the first place. Shit, he should really give those back to him. 

The party right now, which is spanning across five dorm rooms, is too much. Matthew’s not in the mood to drink this weekend so he doesn’t. After he gets tired of third wheeling Hao and Hanbin, he makes a break for the exit door outside. Fresh air is always the best. 

He knows no one will be out there because of how cold it is. But, when he sees a figure standing towards the railing, he knows he was wrong. 

There’s not much lighting out here, aside from the string lights that decorate the trim around the building, so he’s not able to make the person out at first. 

“Matthew?”

Oh. That’s Gunwook. Then he can see it’s Gunwook when he strays closer to the light. 

He digs his teeth into his bottom lip. He's been avoiding him, to an extreme extent. Practice has been suspended since it's winter break and without that, Matthew has no reason to be around him. He should leave. Save himself from making things awkward.

“Out here all by yourself?” Matthew asks after arguing with himself over it. He sits his can of soda down on the ground. Gunwook looks at him with that worried expression again though, suddenly removing his coat and wrapping it around Matthew’s shoulders without hesitation.

“You’ll get sick out here with just a t-shirt on,” Gunwook mentions as he fixes the jacket on him.

Matthew is feeling anything but cold right now, especially with blood rushing to his face. Of course, this is working on him. He’s so easy. It’s now been four months since he met Gunwook, and Matthew can admit that he...he really likes Gunwook. Past just liking his face. Maybe that's why he had to run away after doing all that. He was scared.

“No here, take your jacket back, now you’re all cold," Matthew complains.

“No, it looks good on you. Plus this shirt is thermal. I’ll be okay,” Gunwook says with a nonchalant shrug, turning away from him. Good on him. Matthew follows him, waddling kind of because of how bulky the jacket is on him. 

“Why are you out here by yourself? You didn’t answer me.”

“It’s not exactly easy to sleep with all of that going on,” Gunwook laughs, but it sounds a little uneasy. “And…I don’t know. I think I don't really belong here. Still.”

A flash of the moment they had out here a few months ago pops into his mind suddenly. A flicker of the boy Gunwook once was during his first few weeks at The Academy. Matthew’s heart pathetically crumbles in his chest at the sight. Not only because of how Gunwook feels but because of how Matthew initially misjudged him. Despised him for being better. And he's done nothing but make it worse now.

Matthew reaches out his hand and feels it stop mid air. There’s a force holding him back from comforting Gunwook, but why?

He opens his mouth instead. “I think you belong here,” he says. With me, he doesn't say.

“I think before you got here, I wasn’t enjoying fencing as much as I do now,” Matthew admits, “so thanks.”

Gunwook looks at him and then laughs suddenly. “Someone told me something.”

“Told you what?”

“They said that you might have a crush on me.”

Matthew jerks back. Fuck his life. And fuck Hao, because he knows it was him. What does Matthew even do? Run away? Deny it and make things awkward? That second one sounds pretty good. That's not even believable. He already kissed Gunwook. More than a few times.

He takes a step to the side. “I…don’t…”

Gunwook picks himself up from the railing. “Well if you don’t, I’m going to need my jacket back,” he says. Matthew gapes his mouth open in shock, then that shock increases when Gunwook is tugging him closer by the collar. Matthew stumbles, being forced to look up. 

“So, am I so bad…that you can’t imagine liking me? Don't think I forgot about what happened,” Gunwook teases. 

“No, of course I can...I just wanted to tell you myself,” Matthew sighs, avoiding eye contact. But, as he quickly learned, Gunwook is persistent. He keeps shifting his head into Matthew’s view which eventually makes him laugh.

“Don’t avoid me, I got sad when you did that,” Gunwook says, ducking his head down to bring their faces closer together. His nose brushes against Matthew’s in a way that makes him want to squirm.

"I'm sorry," Matthew responds, "And it wasn't a mistake. I'm sorry."

Then, then, Gunwook presses his lips to Matthew’s softly. This kiss is better than the other ones they shared. A prince, he's really kissed a prince. It sounds too cliche for anyone to believe. 

“Hey, Seok Matthew,” Gunwook says, pressing their foreheads together.

“The next time we fence, you better give it your all. Or I’ll never forgive you.”