Chapter Text
Pat had one clear objective; Por, the senior year's teaching assistant. Por was elegant, serious, and carried his books with a solemnity that was almost intimidating. Pat, on the other hand, was carrying a slightly crumpled bouquet of flowers and a rehearsed script that made him stammer every time he ran through it in his head.
"Por, I've noticed we both enjoy bitter coffee and silence…" No, that sounds too intense — Pat muttered in front of the lockers.
"What if you try: 'Por, I'm a disaster and I need someone to explain why I keep failing the subject of love'?" — A low, mocking voice startled him.
It was Ryujin. He was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall with his headphones around his neck and his uniform half-buttoned. Ryujin was the kind of guy everyone talked about, the rebellious student who preferred sleeping on the rooftop to attending class, but who always seemed to show up wherever the gossip was.
"What are you doing here, Ryujin? You should be in Professor Lee's class," Pat said, hiding the flowers behind his back.
"Classes are for people who don't have a social life worth observing, Patji." Ryujin stood up with feline agility, stepping too far into Pat's personal space. "And my diagnosis is clear, you're going to get rejected by a guy who probably irons his socks.”
Pat just wanted to be seen as an equal — someone serious and elegant. But the universe, with its twisted sense of humor, decided to send him an obstacle in the shape of a rebellious boy, Ryujin.
Ryujin was chaos personified. If Por was an elegant sandalwood, Ryujin was a blend of mint gum and adrenaline. His hair was always disheveled, the uniform tie barely hanging from his neck, and he had a supernatural ability to know exactly where Pat was at any given moment of the day.
For the entire week, Ryujin became Pat's shadow. Every time Pat tried to have a moment alone with Por, the dark-haired boy would appear to sabotage it with a mix of heavy-handed jokes and flirtatious remarks that left Pat thoroughly confused.
Day 1: The Library Sabotage
Pat was sitting in the Philosophy section, Por's favorite spot to read. He had prepared a small homemade dessert in an elegant little box to give him. Suddenly, a shadow fell across his table.
"Another offering for the God of Perfection?" Ryujin slid into the chair across from him, turning his cap backwards.
"Ryujin, go away. Por will be here any minute," Pat whispered, hiding the box.
"And why are you hiding, Pat?" Ryujin leaned over the table, resting his chin in his hand, closing the distance dangerously. "You've got that 'I'm about to commit a crime' face that suits you so well. You know what would suit you even better? A guy who doesn't make you tremble out of fear, but out of something a lot more… fun."
"Por doesn't scare me. I just have respect for him."
"Respect is what you have for your grandfather. With a man, you're supposed to want him." Ryujin winked and, with startling speed, dipped a finger into the box and stole a bit of the frosting. "Mmm, sweet. But not as sweet as you when you're angry."
At that moment, Por walked into the library. Pat straightened up like a soldier. Ryujin, far from leaving, stretched out like a cat.
"Hey, Por!" Ryujin called out, shattering the silence rule. "Pat brought you something! He says he hopes you're as sweet as this little cake — though I told him you look like someone who has vinegar for breakfast."
Por shot a disapproving glance toward the commotion and simply walked past into another section. Pat wanted the ground to swallow him whole.
"I hate you!" Pat hissed.
"No, you don't," Ryujin said, standing up and giving him a light pat on the cheek. "You want me the way you want recess at the end of a boring class. See you in the hallway, cute boy.”
Two days later, Pat tried to approach Por after basketball practice. Por was toweling off his sweat, looking like a cologne commercial. Pat walked over with a bottle of ionized water.
Out of nowhere, a basketball bounced hard right between the two of them. Ryujin came jogging over, his torso barely covered by a sleeveless shirt that revealed more than was legally permitted for Pat's mental health.
"Oops, sorry!" Ryujin said with a lopsided grin. "It's just that I saw two people so stiff I thought they were the court posts."
"Ryujin, we're talking," Pat said, squeezing the water bottle.
"Talking or praying?" Ryujin stepped between the two of them, turning his back to Por and facing Pat directly. "Listen, Patji. If you want to win over a man like him, don't give him water. Water is boring. You need to give him strong emotions. For example… you could try kissing someone who actually knows how to use his lips. Like me."
Pat turned red all the way to his ears. Por, made uncomfortable by the intensity of it all, said a curt goodbye and left.
"See? He scares easy," Ryujin said, moving close enough to Pat that he could feel the warmth radiating off his body after the workout. "Why are you wasting your time chasing a 'boring gentleman' when you've got this rough diamond right here? I'm a rebel, I skip class, but I promise you that in other subjects… I have a perfect record."
"You're an arrogant idiot," Pat replied — though he didn't move from his spot.
"And you're a liar," Ryujin said, grazing Pat's arm with his fingertips. "You love that I bother you. You love that I'm the only one who dares to tell you how good you look when you're trying to be serious."
Pat could only stare at him with a look of pure disappointment.
Day 2: Biology Class (Which Ryujin Actually Attended… by Accident)
By some strange planetary alignment, Ryujin showed up to Biology class. He sat right behind Pat, who was trying to concentrate on dissecting a flower.
"Need help with the pistil, Patji?" Ryujin whispered, leaning in close enough that his breath tickled the back of Pat's neck.
"This is a delicate dissection, Ryujin. Please stop bothering me," Pat replied, gripping his tweezers tighter.
"I'm just saying that if you're going to handle something that sensitive, you should have more… experienced hands. You're too tense. If you squeeze like that, you're going to break the best part." Ryujin let out a low laugh. "You know, I'm an expert at finding the center of things. If you want, after class we could go somewhere private and I'll show you how to make something bloom under pressure."
Pat turned crimson.
"We are talking about botany!"
"Of course, 'botany,'" Ryujin replied with a wink. "I also want to study your nature — especially the parts you keep under lock and key. Don't you think it's time someone watered your garden a little? You're very dry, Pat."
Pat just stared at him, no longer knowing what to do with Ryujin.
Day 3: The Hose Incident
On a Wednesday afternoon, Pat was helping clean up the garden for the volunteer club — where Por was the supervisor. Pat was holding a high-pressure hose while Por gave him instructions from a distance.
Ryujin appeared out of nowhere, a candy lollipop in his mouth and his shirt one button too many open.
"My, my, Pat… that's quite a long hose. Do you know how to handle it, or do you need someone to help you with fluid management?"
"Ryujin! I'm working for Por," Pat said, trying to ignore the double meaning.
"Ah, Por… The man who gives you orders but wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot pole." Ryujin circled around Pat, sizing up the situation. "You should release some pressure — you're building up way too much energy. Keep this up and you'll end up splashing someone who doesn't deserve it. Why don't you aim that stream at me? I could use some cooling down… or heating up, depending on how you look at it."
"Go sleep on the rooftop!" Pat shouted — but his aim faltered and he ended up soaking his own pants.
Ryujin burst into a loud, shameless laugh.
"Well, Patji. We're not even five minutes in and you're already all wet because of me. That must be a record, even for you. I'd lend you my jacket, but you'd have to come to my place to pick it up… and you already know my bed is a lot more comfortable than this lawn.”
Day 4: The Banana of Discord
In the cafeteria, Pat was sitting alone, trying to read an economics book to impress Por. Ryujin sat down across from him uninvited, placed a banana on the table, and stared at it pointedly.
"Did you know potassium is good for cramps, cute boy?" Ryujin began peeling the fruit with excruciating slowness.
"I don't have cramps, Ryujin."
"What a shame. Because I'm very good at giving massages… all over the body. Especially in the areas where tension gets… hard." Ryujin bit into the fruit while maintaining eye contact. "By the way, I saw Por give you a pat on the shoulder yesterday. You almost fainted. Do you get so little that one graze from that stiff guy drives you crazy?"
"He's a gentleman," Pat defended.
"Gentlemen are for fairy tales. Real men, like me, don't hold your hand — they take your breath away." Ryujin leaned across the table, lowering his voice. "That guy doesn't know what to do with someone like you. You're like a race car engine he wants to drive at 20 kilometers per hour. Me, on the other hand… I'd floor the accelerator until you were screaming my name. And believe me, I have stamina that Por couldn't dream of in his best Excel spreadsheets."
This time, Pat could only let out a long sigh.
The next day, as classes let out, the afternoon sky had turned a heavy violet — the kind that announces a storm. Pat was walking through the school's back alley, the shortcut he always avoided because it "wasn't fitting for a model student," but today he was in a hurry to catch up with Por at the bus stop.
Suddenly, a sharp sound stopped him cold. Thump. Then the sound of something metal hitting the pavement, and a muffled groan he knew far too well.
Pat turned the corner and his heart leapt to his throat. Ryujin was pinned against the wall, his uniform shirt torn, with two guys from a nearby school surrounding him. One of them landed a punch to his ribs that made Ryujin double over, coughing.
"Leave him alone!" Pat shouted, dropping his backpack and running toward them with more courage than physical strength.
The bullies stopped, caught off guard by the sudden appearance of the school's "perfect" boy. Ryujin, a thin trickle of blood running from the corner of his lips, looked up. His eyes, usually full of mockery, filled with something like genuine alarm.
"Pat… what the hell are you doing?" Ryujin growled, trying to get to his feet. "Get out of here. Now."
"I'm not leaving you alone," Pat said, planting himself in front of him with clenched, trembling fists.
One of the guys let out a laugh.
"Look, the lapdog came to rescue the slacker. How sweet."
Ryujin grabbed Pat by the back of the neck with one hand and shoved him firmly backward, out of the circle of danger.
"Get out of here, Pat. This isn't an ethics exam — this is real life, and they're going to break your face," Ryujin hissed at him with a seriousness that sent a chill down Pat's spine. "If you stay, you'll only make them hit me harder because I'll have to watch out for you. Go!"
Pat stepped back, stung by the tone — but when he caught the desperate look in Ryujin's eyes, he understood that his presence there was only making things worse tactically for the dark-haired boy. He hid behind some recycling bins a few meters away, pressing his hands hard against his ears to block out the sound of the blows that resumed.
Ten minutes passed that felt like centuries. Finally, he heard footsteps receding and crude laughter fading away. Pat came running out from his hiding spot.
Ryujin was sitting on the ground, leaning against a trash bin, head tilted back and eyes closed. His cheekbone was swollen and his right hand was scraped raw.
"Ryujin! Oh God, we need to go to the hospital, I'm going to call an ambulance, I'm going to—" Pat was hyperventilating, his hands fluttering over Ryujin's injuries without daring to touch him.
Ryujin opened one eye, letting out a groan he tried to pass off as a laugh.
"Relax, kitten… If you keep screaming like that, Por's going to think I'm doing something indecent to you back here. And as tempting as the idea is, right now even breathing hurts."
"How can you joke right now?" Pat's eyes were full of frustrated tears. "They were killing you!”
"I've had worse," Ryujin grimaced and took Pat's hand, pulling him down to sit beside him on the dirty ground. "Besides, look on the bright side, Patji… Now I have the perfect excuse for you to take care of me. I imagine you're the type who looks really good in a nurse's uniform, right? Something fitted, so nothing gets lost in the silhouette."
"You're an idiot," Pat sobbed — though he let Ryujin rest his head on his shoulder.
"An idiot with incredible endurance," Ryujin corrected, lowering his voice and slipping back into that playful tone that drove Pat crazy. "You know… seeing that terrified look on your face hurt more than the punch to my ribs. If you want me to recover quickly, you're going to have to give me something more than a bandage."
Ryujin leaned in toward him slightly, despite the pain, and whispered in his ear with breath that smelled of iron and mint:
"Did you know saliva has healing properties? We could try an alternative method… you know, one that involves a lot of physical contact. I've been told I'm very receptive to that kind of 'therapy.'"
Pat looked at him, somewhere between furious and fascinated.
"If you weren't bleeding, I'd hit you myself."
"Do it," Ryujin dared him with a broken smile. "But do it with your lips. I promise I won't skip class… at least for the next two days."
Pat shook his head, wiping the blood from Ryujin's face with his handkerchief — not knowing that this disaster of a boy was about to become his entire world.
The walk to Ryujin's house was slow. Pat held him by the waist, feeling the warmth of the other boy's body and how, despite the pain, Ryujin kept letting comments slip to break the tension.
"If you keep holding me that tight, Pat, people are going to think you can't wait to get to a hotel," Ryujin murmured, leaning almost his full weight onto Pat's shoulder.
"Shut up and walk," Pat replied — though his grip only tightened.
When they arrived, Pat was surprised. It wasn't a neglected student apartment but a small house, sunk in a silence that felt almost deafening. As they walked in, Pat looked around for some sign of life. "Aren't your parents home? We should let them know you're hurt."
Ryujin pulled away from him and walked toward the kitchen, dragging his feet slightly. He stopped in front of a small altar with two photographs and some burned-out incense sticks.
"I don't think they'll pick up, cute boy. Unless you have a direct line to the afterlife," Ryujin said with a casualness that made Pat's blood run cold. "They died three years ago in an accident. That's why I think I'm like this… the school walls remind me too much of the plans they had for me. I prefer the silence of this house, or the noise of the rooftop."
Pat was speechless. The entire image of the "lazy rebel boy" crumbled in an instant, revealing someone who was simply alone. Without a word, he walked over, took Ryujin's hand, and guided him upstairs.
"To your room, now, you need to rest," Pat said with a softness that left no room for argument.
Ryujin's room was a chaos of clothes, rock band posters, and music books. Pat helped him sit on the edge of the bed and began taking off his shoes. The atmosphere shifted. The air grew dense, weighted with an intimacy neither of them had planned for.
"I'm going to clean the wounds on your torso," Pat said, avoiding his eyes as he looked for the first aid kit.
"Careful, pretty boy… If you take my shirt off, I won't be responsible for what might happen. I'm an injured man, but my instincts are fully intact," Ryujin joked, though his voice came out rougher than usual.
Pat began unbuttoning Ryujin's shirt with trembling hands.
"My, how aggressive," Ryujin whispered — though he let out a groan when the fabric pulled away from a wound. "If I'd known all it took was letting someone beat me up for you to undress me, I would have picked a fight much sooner."
"Be quiet, Ryujin. This is serious," Pat said, though his hands were shaking.
When the shirt fell away, Pat lost his breath. Ryujin's torso was marked with bruises just beginning to turn purple. With extreme care, Pat dampened a cotton pad with antiseptic and pressed it gently against a cut on Ryujin's abdomen.
"Ah!" Ryujin hissed in pain and, on pure instinct, caught Pat's wrists to stop him.
The movement threw Pat off balance and he fell forward, trapped between Ryujin's legs, their faces only centimeters apart. The silence in the room became absolute. They could hear each other's hearts beating wildly out of control.
Ryujin didn't let go of his wrists. His eyes dropped to Pat's lips, then traveled back up, shining with a mix of vulnerability and desire.
"Pat…" Ryujin whispered, and this time there was no double meaning, no jokes. His voice was pure need. "You're too close. And I'm too tired of pretending I don't want you to stay here forever."
Pat felt an electric warmth run down his spine. His fingers, still caught in Ryujin's grip, brushed against the warm skin of his forearms. He was nervous — his mind screaming that he should pull away, that this wasn't "right" — but his body refused to move.
"I… I just wanted to take care of you," Pat managed to say, though his gaze was fixed on Ryujin's mouth.
"Then take care of me," Ryujin answered, closing the distance until their noses touched. "But don't use alcohol. Use something that makes me forget I'm alone in this house."
The tension was so high the air itself seemed to vibrate. Ryujin tilted his head slightly, his lips almost grazing the corner of Pat's in an agonizing caress that left them both trembling, on the edge of breaking the last barrier between them.