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The basketball left Kyung-jun’s hands with more power than intention. It flew like a fastball, skimming past the court’s edge, past the lines, yet past the rim.
And it hit Da-beom square in the face.
There was a sickening thud.
Then silence.
It wasn’t even a second before the blood started pouring. A red, watery streak slid from Da-beom's nose, blooming across his upper lip and chin. His hands shot up too late to shield himself. He stumbled backward, a quiet gasp escaping his throat.
Everything froze within seconds
Kyung-jun lowered his arm slowly, as if even he hadn’t expected that to happen.
"Holy shit," someone muttered over the court.
Da-beom blinked multiple times through the sting, trying to understand what had happened. He raised one hand which was trembling slightly to check the stained blood.Kyung-jun didn’t move an inch. The basketball rolled lazily across the court and hit the bleachers with a soft clunk.
And then came the voices.
"Are you serious?!"
Yoon-seo stormed in, followed by Junhee jogging behind her. They must've been walking past the gym when the chaos drew them in.
Kyung-jun closely watched as Junhee's expression shifted instantly from passive curiosity to horror. Without hesitation, Junhee broke away from Yoon-seo and rushed to Da-beom, who was swaying on his feet.
"Hey, hey — Da-beom, look at me. You okay? Shit, that’s a lot of blood," Junhee murmured gently, added with a look of concern.
He slowly grabbed Da-beom by the shoulder to steady him, his other hand fishing out tissues from his pocket. He pressed them carefully under Da-beom's nose.
Kyung-jun’s jaw clenched.
"You think this is funny?" Yoon-seo snapped, getting in Kyung-jun's face. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"
Kyung-jun didn’t respond. His eyes weren’t on Yoon-seo. They were entirely on Junhee.
Junhee, the one kneeling beside Da-beom, it's fingers soft against another skin that isn't his anymore, and whispering quiet words that even Kyung-jun couldn't hear.
Something tight twisted inside of his chest.
"It was an accident," Kyung-jun muttered finally, voice that was cold and flat. He did not really care about his actions.
"Oh, screw you," Yoon-seo spat. "You're always like this. You act like you don’t care who you hurt. And now look at him."
But Kyung-jun didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at Yoon-seo anymore.
He watched as Junhee helped Da-beom up, slinging the boy’s arm around his shoulder with casual ease. Da-beom looked dazed, blinking blood out of his eyes.
"Let’s get you to the nurse," Junhee said. His voice was low, yet there was a sense of comfort in his tone.
He then turned, and they both walked out together.With Junhee carefully hung the poor boy's arm on his shoulder. Step by step, Da-beom quietly leaning into him.
Kyung-jun’s feet felt nailed to the floor.
He watched until they turned the corner.
Until he couldn’t see them anymore.
---
The nurse's office was tucked away in the back wing, near the music rooms. No one really went down that hallway unless they were hurt or trying to skip class.
Kyung-jun wasn’t sure why he followed.
He didn’t tell anyone where he was going. Didn’t even think about it. His legs just moved on his own.
The hallway was empty. The light through the windows was dim with passing clouds. And the world felt quieter here, like even the air held its breath.
He paused just outside the nurse’s office.
Through the narrow slit in the glass door, he saw them.
Junhee sat on the edge of the cot, leaning close to Da-beom. The younger boy had his head tilted back, a pack of gauze pressed against his nose.
Junhee was murmuring something, brows knit in concern.
Da-beom smiled softly.
And that’s what did it.
Not the blood.
Not the softness.
The smile.
Kyung-jun turned his head slowly, walking past the door like a shadow, unnoticed by the others.
He didn’t realize how hard he was breathing until he reached the end of the hall. His hands were shaking.
Why?
Why did it bother him?
Da-beom was a sore loser. A quiet, forgettable nobody. Nobody cares about him. Kyung-jun had pushed kids like him around since middle school. Since he realized no one would stop him.
But this — this burned.
That look on Junhee's face.
The kindness in his hands.
The way Da-beom looked at him like he was safe and feel protected around him.
Kyung-jun saw red.
He turned, punched the wall.
Hard.
The pain came sharp and bright. A crack of bone against plaster.
He gritted his teeth, leaning his forehead against the cool surface.
His knuckles throbbed loudly.
But it didn’t quiet the ache in his chest.
---
He walked home that day with his hands in his pockets, blood still seeping through the fabric.
The house was entirely empty.
His parents were always working late or away altogether, as if absence was a typical family tradition. He ran cold water over his bruised knuckles until the sting numbed everything else.
But he still saw the look on Da-beom's face.
Still saw Junhee tucking a hand behind Da-beom's neck, steadying him with unspoken care.
Kyung-jun hated that smile. Hated how real it looked. Hated that it was given to someone like Da-beom, who didn’t deserve it.
He found Da-beom the next morning before class.
"Nose still bleeding, freak?" he hissed, slamming the boy’s locker closed just as Da-beom reached for his books.
Da-beom flinched, clearly startled by the sudden force, but didn’t back away.
Instead, he looked at Kyung-jun with something strange in his eyes. Pity, yet something calm.
"It stopped," he said flatly, looking at him directly in the eyes.
Kyung-jun sneered at him. "Too bad. Maybe next time I should aim for your goddamn teeth."
Da-beom didn't answer. He just stood there, it's expression unreadable.
And that only made Kyung-jun angrier.
"You think you're special now? Just because the class president helped you? You think he gives a fuck about you?"
Da-beom said nothing. But his silence wasn’t the kind Kyung-jun could crush.
He said firmly, "He was just being nice. That’s what he does. Don’t get used to it."
Still nothing.
"He doesn’t look at you like that," Kyung-jun spat. "Not the way you want."
That time, Da-beom’s jaw tightened.
And Kyung-jun turned away, satisfied that he finally made something crack.
But as he walked down the hall, he hated himself even more.
Because he knew he wasn’t talking about Da-beom at all.