Chapter 23: Achilles and the Time Bomb

“He’s never done anything for us. Not once. A restraining order… we’ve never even been able to get one of those.”

“…….”

“When the ‘situation’ ends, it just gets harder for my mom and me.”

“Then you should have at least told me—!”

His moist eyes reflected me with a hollow light.

“It’s okay. You can just apply the ointment for me.”

“What…?”

“Just… put some ointment on me. My body hurts.”

The way he frowned even while speaking, as if his split lip pained him, made my stomach turn. Watching him struggle for breath so weakly, I couldn’t help but worry if something was internally wrong—if his organs were even intact. I bit the sensitive skin inside my mouth several times before finally stepping toward the boy who was quietly waiting for me. As I pulled off my school shirt and plopped down beside him, Song Yun Jae’s eyes went wide. I used the shirt to gently dab at the corners of his mouth and eyes.

“…Hey…!”

“Stay still.”

Blood that hadn’t fully dried smeared onto the fabric. The red stains spread quickly across the damp shirt. Song Yun Jae, who had been wincing in pain, saw the shirt and tried to push my arm away.

“You’re getting blood on your uniform…!”

“Would you rather I use your clothes?”

“You could have just left it. Why ruin your clothes…!”

“I said, stay still.”

I examined him again. Fortunately, there didn’t seem to be any deep gashes or major lacerations. The split lip and swollen eye area looked like they would leave the longest-lasting aftereffects. I wished I had proper medicine to apply, but since I had nothing immediate, I just kept brushing over the spots I’d cleaned.

“…F*ck, of all places, he had to break open your face.”

At my muttered monologue, Song Yun Jae’s eyes looked up at me. Ignoring his gaze, I finished wiping the blood and scanned his arms and legs. I’d seen his arms occasionally when applying ointment, but this was effectively the first time I was seeing his legs. Before I could even look for bruises, my eyes caught his pale skin and slender ankles. His calves, smooth and hairless, looked lean. The graceful line of his legs kept drawing my eye. God dammit. What about this is “graceful” right now? Ah, sh*t. Seeing my crumpled expression, he hurriedly tried to cover his legs with his arms and spoke.

“I brought… the ointment.”

“How did you know I was here?”

“I just… felt like I should bring it, even if you weren’t here.”

“…The face looks like a fist, but what about your arms, legs, and back? What did he hit you with?”

His movement, reaching into his pocket for the ointment, stalled.

“…A soju bottle, and some nunchucks.”

“…F*ck.”

“…….”

“Why the hell are there nunchucks in the house? Why does a guy who does nothing but drink and gamble own nunchucks?”

I unfurled the rolled-up school shirt I’d used to wipe the blood and draped it over his legs. Song Yun Jae, who had been sitting with his knees pulled to his chest, reflexively clutched the collar of the shirt resting on his knees. When I reached out for the ointment, he hesitated for a moment, staring at me intently.

“What are you doing? You asked me to put it on.”

“…Hyun Uk.”

“What.”

“You don’t pity me, right?”

It felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over my boiling head. I swallowed as inconspicuously as possible. There was no moisture left in my mouth, yet my throat tightened instinctively. Song Yun Jae’s gaze was trembling slightly. I turned my head away from him and leaned my back against the stack of mats. He kept watching me, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah.”

“…That’s a relief.”

Had he heard the answer he wanted? Or had he read my intention to give him the answer he needed? He let out a small sigh. A short silence followed. Just as I was about to glance back and tell him to give me the ointment if he was so relieved—

Thump.

His head dropped onto my shoulder.

I caught my breath at the unexpected contact.

My heart plummeted to my toes before surging back with a dizzying sensation.

The moment his head touched me, his scent hit me all at once. It wasn’t the dry, crisp scent of his cardigan, but a damp, soaked version of it. Even though it was the same fragrance, the moisture gave it a strangely evocative atmosphere. My chest felt ticklish.

“…Hey, don’t doze off.”

“Just for a second….”

As he spoke, Song Yun Jae carefully gripped the hem of my clothes at my waist. The sensation of the fabric brushing against my side made me hold my breath again. If I lowered my eyes just a bit, I could see his white feet in water-logged slides and his slender ankles. They were the parts the shirt couldn’t quite cover. I shouldn’t have just run over here; I should have grabbed a blanket, a gym kit—anything.

I forced my gaze upward. If I’d known it would be like this, I would have listened to him and kept the lights off. A wave of regretful irritation washed over me.

“…Listening to the rain like this is actually kind of nice,” he said with his eyes closed.

What could possibly be “nice” when he’d arrived beaten and broken? But listening to the rain as he suggested, it definitely sounded weaker than before. The sound that had felt like it was swallowing the whole school earlier was still clear, but the intensity had faded. I pulled out my phone; it was already past midnight. The rain that had poured for over an hour was finally letting up. Like the teacher said, it really was just a shower.

As I thought that, Song Yun Jae let out a soft, airy laugh.

“Your fabric softener smells nice, too.”

He buried his head a little deeper. His damp hair against my neck felt ticklish. But I couldn’t exactly jump up and push away a kid who was covered in injuries.

I bit the sensitive skin in my mouth again, the same spot I’d been chewing all day. The subtle taste of blood and the sharp pain helped me keep my focus. But his very next words shattered my attempt at composure.

“Your heart… it’s beating really fast.”

My body reacted as if it were being launched. I stood up abruptly, only to find Song Yun Jae looking at me with a trace of a smile on his face. Before I could even pick my words, my lips moved.

“My heart always beats f*cking fast.”

“I know.”

What do you know? The heat climbed up the back of my neck at his response—he clearly knew I was talking nonsense but was playing along anyway. In the rush of embarrassment and fluster, I wanted to turn the lights off myself. Song Yun Jae was the one in pain, yet my body was the one acting hypersensitive. What the hell am I doing? Just as self-loathing began to creep in, he changed the subject.

“Just put the ointment on my arms and legs. The places I can’t reach.”

“…….”

“I think the back can wait until the bruises show up tomorrow.”

What was he talking about now? The heat at the back of my neck turned into a dull ache at his words.

“Are you aging them like fine wine? Who told you ointment doesn’t work before the bruise shows up?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never tried putting it on before the bruise…”

“Try it today.”

“…I should go now. It’s late.”

Hesitation crept into his quiet voice. It wasn’t as if putting ointment on his back would take hours. However, knowing where his injuries came from and why a guy who could easily avoid them was putting himself through this, I didn’t press him further. His hand brushed mine as he quietly handed over the ointment. His skin was deathly cold; it was obvious he’d be suffering from a fever by tomorrow.

While I twisted the cap off, Song Yun Jae brushed the school shirt off his knees and stood up. I scanned his back as he stood facing away from me.

Near the neck bone, above the elbow, above the back of the knee, the calves, the ankle bone.

I identified the spots where bruises were beginning to form and dabbed the ointment on. I had to crouch down as I moved to his legs. He seemed to feel bad about that, muttering to himself that he should have just lied down, but I preferred it this way. Imagining Song Yun Jae lying facedown in this state made me feel strangely faint.

“But why are you at school so late?”

“I didn’t want to go home.”

“Ah….”

He let out a sound that was somewhere between an exclamation and a sigh.

“Mostly, I wanted to piss them off today.”

“So, did you succeed?” he asked casually.

“I think so.”

“That’s a relief.”

As I applied ointment above his protruding ankle bone, my fingertip accidentally brushed against his elegantly carved Achilles tendon.

“…That, um, tickles a bit.”

“Oh, sorry.”

I yanked my hand away. Standing up too fast, my shoulder bumped into his back. A brief, awkward tension filled the storage room.

“I’ll be outside.”

I ended up being the one to flee, even though I had no bags to pack and he didn’t need to change. I knew the words didn’t make sense, but I just spat out whatever came to mind. As I started to walk away, his small voice stopped me.

Hyun Uk,

The way he pronounced my name—soft at first, then gathering into a ticklish end—called out to me.

“Thank you.”

I forced my feet, which wanted to stay glued to the floor, to move out of the storage room. By sheer effort of not looking back, I managed to avoid seeing his face. It was a relief. My fluctuating heart was a time bomb, oscillating between thirst and overflow, and I didn’t know what sensation would trigger it next.

Thank you? Why do you have so much to be thankful for?

It was time for my heart, which felt a tickle like a pathetic dog even in this mess, to be mocked.

I felt like my insides were twisting into knots.