Work Text:
1.
The backyard behind the school's old building was always full of cigarette butts. The broken desks and chairs stacked there were stuffed with crumpled deep red Marlboro and Winston packs, crushed like butterfly wings. In spring, by some miracle, the rose bushes at the base of the wall, though no one tended to them, still bloomed with pale purple flowers as if they had been dyed by cigarette smoke. The students at school all implicitly understood that one shouldn't pry too closely when passing by that place, and if you went there to smoke, no matter who you were with, you must remain silent. This had become a matter of course, an inviolable, unspoken rule.
So, for the past two weeks, Lee Minho had tried his hardest not to tell anyone about the fact that he had stood there smoking with the Vice President of the Student Council, Kim Seungmin.
Lee Minho himself was surprised when he went there and saw him. Kim Seungmin, who was always proper and stern, whose shirt never untucked and tie always fastened so tightly around his collar that Minho wondered how he could breathe, the one who always sat there doing homework at the librarian's desk every time Lee Minho had to read two books in the library and write a report to submit before five in the evening... Kim Seungmin, who always looked at Minho with cold eyes every time he walked past him in the teachers' room, as if he were just a rat scurrying around in the grass, was puffing on a cigarette behind the old building. Minho thought Seungmin's proper appearance didn't suit the cigarette on his thin lips at all. The burning ash glowed red, as if in bloom.
Kim Seungmin's half-lidded, dreamy eyes, as if just waking from a dream, glanced back at him, his jet-black pupils not moving at all, even though Minho knew he recognized him. Lee Minho was so stunned by the sight that he forgot why he had come there. It wasn't until Seungmin took a long drag and dropped the butt to the ground, stamping on it a few times, that Minho was brought back to reality by the thumping sound of sneakers on the concrete floor. He fumbled to open the pack of cigarettes in his hand and took one out, but couldn't find a lighter.
Seungmin stood there, watching Minho fuss for a while before clearing his throat and calling out, "Sunbaenim".
Minho turned his head, not knowing what Seungmin intended to do. He gave a stupid grin and slipped a lighter into Minho's coat pocket, as if suggesting he not tell anyone about this. The heavy piece of metal on his left chest weighs down on Minho's heart.
2.
The name “Kim Seungmin” had been etched into Minho's mind for a long time. It was the name always printed in bold on the notice board beneath the glittering, glorious line "Top of the Second Grade" that Lee Minho always pretended not to care about. It was the three syllables that would suddenly escape the lips of the old men in the teachers’ office filled with the smell of bleach, "Class president Kim Seungmin, please bring your classmates' assignments to the teachers' room!" "Vice President Kim Seungmin, how much progress have you made on the sports day plan?" "Student Kim Seungmin, please go to the principal's office..." Kim Seungmin always had the demeanor of a well-behaved puppy and a smile as bright as car headlights on a lonely country road.
When Lee Minho had to silently sit and listen to the supervisor's scolding about his dangling earrings, or endure his homeroom teacher's persistent nagging about his Math grades, Kim Seungmin would be on the other side of the room, placing an unopened water bottle on the desk of the teacher who had just called him, then accepting any task assigned like a diligent worker bee without a single complaint. At those moments, a teacher sitting across from Minho would throw in a snide remark, "Why can't you be more like him, Lee Minho? If you were even half, no, a third of Kim Seungmin, it would be a blessing for this school."
Even if he wanted to, Lee Minho could never become Kim Seungmin. He couldn’t even bring himself to tolerate him. He couldn't stand Seungmin's neat appearance and his attitude of always following the rules. He hated Kim Seungmin before he even knew what kind of person he was. Just the vague concept of him made Lee Minho's blood boil. Minho disliked Seungmin the same way he disliked how the models on advertising billboards were always absurdly young and beautiful, the same way the shiny red apples in the supermarket were always arranged neatly on the shelf without a single blemish.
In Minho's mind, Kim Seungmin was inherently too perfect and untouchable, standing firm like the statue of David, to the point that Lee Minho thought the image of Seungmin smoking behind the old building was just a hazily daydream he had conjured up with his own resentment.
3.
Lee Minho passed by Kim Seungmin again in the library when he had to rearrange some books as punishment from the school supervisor. Kim Seungmin was hunched over doing homework, curled up behind the wooden desk, acting as if he had nothing to do with Lee Minho. The library after school was deserted, the desks and shelves full of books reeking of pine. Minho deliberately carried a heavy stack of books back and forth in front of Seungmin to see his reaction, but only received a few futile furrowed brows.
After circling like this for half an hour, Minho finally finished his duty. He looked up and saw Kim Seungmin still trying to act like they didn't know each other, and a feeling of restless frustration welled up inside him. All week, Minho had tried not to tell Jisung and Changbin that Kim Seungmin could actually take two or three consecutive drags without needing to breathe and blow smoke expertly like a heavy industrial factory. For someone who liked to gossip like Lee Minho, keeping such a huge secret wasn't easy. Yet Seungmin remained as calm as a log, not paying the slightest attention to Minho. Since the other day, Minho had been carrying the lighter in his pocket, the persistent heavy feeling making it impossible to forget even if he wanted to.
Thinking this, Minho walked over to Seungmin, pulled out the metal lighter, and slammed it hard on the desk. The impact echoed through the silent room, spreading into the empty hallway and (hopefully) piercing through Seungmin's thick skull. On the brown wooden surface, a few white scratches now marked the patterns of the lighter. Those puppy-dog eyes finally looked up at Minho, full of fear. Minho pulled out a pack of cigarettes carefully hidden in his jacket pocket, took one out, and placed it on his lips. He leaned down, his face close to Seungmin's.
"Light it for me. It's your lighter."
Seungmin obediently complied, which Minho found strange. He opened the lighter's lid, sparked a pale blue flame, and lit the cigarette. Minho took a drag and blew the smoke into the boy's flustered face. He held out the pack.
"You smoke too, right?"
Seungmin glanced furtively at the tightly closed wooden door and took one.
4.
Minho sat on the windowsill, his hand holding the window slightly ajar, just enough for the smoke to silently drift outside. He couldn't help but glance at the kid sitting next to him, smoking with the manner of an elementary schooler blowing bubbles in the park. His face was stiff, as if he felt no pleasure from it at all.
It was then that Minho noticed, up close, Kim Seungmin's expressionless face wasn't ugly at all. He also had rich parents, a high GPA, and excellent extracurricular activities. He would surely get into a good university and do something important by the time he was forty, like being the CEO of a multinational corporation, a doctor at a famous hospital, or maybe even a politician. By then, if Minho said he had once smoked with him, it would probably be even harder to believe than it was now.
"Why do you smoke? Is the pressure from extra classes too much?" Minho asked, half-jokingly, half-seriously.
Kim Seungmin shook his head, answering politely. "I just want to, sunbaenim."
"Liar," Minho chuckled. "No one just randomly wants to smoke. Usually, someone invites them, or something happens that makes them want to."
Kim Seungmin took a long drag, then fell silent. He looked outside, tapping his ash between the window crack. Minho wasn’t planning to ask more questions; his cigarette was already half-gone. But then he heard Seungmin's voice again.
"One day, I was on cleaning duty down in the schoolyard when I accidentally saw some senior guys smoking near the old building. One of them was very pretty… I thought that if I could go there to smoke, maybe I could get to know him."
"Is he that good-looking?" Minho moved closer to Seungmin.
Kim Seungmin suddenly blushed and nodded, "Yes."
Minho smiled, staring intently at Seungmin's slightly hesitant face. "More than me?"
"..."
Seungmin blinked. The big, dark eyes of the person in front of him, his high nose bridge, and his full lips that always seemed to curve in a triumphant smile. Could there be anyone more beautiful than Lee Minho? If so, he'd have to go see that person for himself.
Suddenly, a crazy idea popped into Minho's head. He suddenly wanted to mess up this perfect life of Kim Seungmin.
He blew out all the smoke, then turned around and grabbed Seungmin's shoulder, and pressed his lips against his. Kim Seungmin frowned but didn’t flinch, even though Minho's mouth was full of the taste of cigarette smoke. He boldly sucked on Minho's lip, as if he had only been waiting for that very moment for his whole life.
Afternoon sunlight filtered through the narrow window crack. The air in the old library, full of dusty reference books, grew thick and heavy with billowing smoke. Minho's arms wrapped around Seungmin's neck, pulling him closer. His lips still tried to capture every wisp of ashy taste remained on Seungmin's tongue. He thought to himself, I didn't hate this kid that much. No, not at all.
end.