Chapter 9: The Blurry Line of Irritation

‘What are you looking at?’

That was what his lips shaped.

As his mouth moved without a sound, my eyes naturally gravitated toward his lips. I could clearly see them curve into a soft circle before flattening out again. And then, there was the way the corners of his mouth tilted back into that small arc.

I averted my gaze as if running away.

I had often been the one to shake off his gaze first or ignore him, but this was the first time I had turned my head as if being chased.

If it hadn’t been for that tiny curve on his lips, I would have just scowled as usual. I might have made some biting remark about whether they were planning to spend the whole self-study period talking. That would have suited my temper better.

But why did I look away?

It was a moment where his unfamiliar behavior made even me feel awkward.

Song Yun Jae alone was more than enough to be incomprehensible.

Soon, it would be time for the bell to signal the end of Period Zero. Sitting still didn’t seem like it would help me focus anyway. The workbook I had spread out hadn’t seen a page turned in a long time.

I slumped over on my desk. I deliberately turned my head toward the hallway to avoid seeing Song Yun Jae and the guy blathering next to him.

And yet, the back of my head felt stung.

It felt like his gaze, which had met mine without flinching, was still following me.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

From that hour on, Song Yun Jae truly began to get under my skin.

During PE, which we held on the playground for the first time in a while, he hovered around me the entire time, making the explanation about the performance evaluation feel like a blur.

He didn’t even say anything or do anything specific; he just stayed near.

‘What, you want to kick it first?’

‘…No.’

Feeling his persistent gaze, I held out the ball I had brought, thinking he might want to use it, but he just gave an indifferent tilt of his chin. His expression said, “You use it.”

And so, first period ended.

It was wishful thinking to hope second period would be easier.

Because the kids, whose body temperatures had spiked on the playground, turned the fans on in every direction, Song Yun Jae spent the entirety of second period fumbling to catch his textbook pages as the wind blew them over. The problem was that sitting one row behind him put all his movements right in my line of sight. Even the strands of his hair fluttering in the breeze were far too visible.

There was no way I could focus on the lesson while a white cardigan was flustering about, giving off a sweet scent.

It didn’t end there.

As soon as the milk monitors brought the crates after second period, he grabbed his own milk and surreptitiously slid one onto my desk before leaving. Then, after third period ended, he performed a whole show of taking the still-untouched milk back to his own desk.

‘Why are you taking it?’

‘You’re not going to drink it anyway.’

‘Who said I wasn’t drinking it?’

‘You did.’

Despite being a total “hollow” nerd, he turned his head with a prim, almost sulky expression.

For someone who was openly snatching and drinking someone else’s milk.

It was a sight to behold.

Whether it was during a break or in the middle of class, if we happened to lock eyes, he didn’t even think of looking away. He’d just keep having a staring contest with that blank face, turning my insides upside down.

And yet, his own mind seemed perfectly at ease, as his feet—wrapped in those white socks—would tap along to a rhythm. It was a mood of his I had been witnessing frequently lately.

The bell marking the start of lunch had just rung, but my condition felt like I was already at the end of the school day. Why was I so tired?

Because of him calling me to the bathroom every lunch break to apply his ointment, lunch wasn’t exactly relaxing either. Today would likely be the same.

While watching the backs of the kids swarming out while reciting the lunch menu, I slowly organized my desk, but for some reason, it was quiet. The guy who should have chased after me to be annoying was nowhere to be found. Looking at his seat, the silhouette that should have been there was missing.

Only then did I widen my field of vision, realizing I was alone in the classroom. As the realization of being alone hit, the air seemed to settle. It was an unexpected silence.

The time Song Yun Jae always asked me to apply the ointment was during lunch. It was because that was the “safe” time for him—when the kids were busy eating and didn’t use the bathroom.

So he was always the one to apply the ointment and then head late to the cafeteria, or go to the snack bar on days the menu was bad.

Did he go to the snack bar first today? Was he beating me to the punch because I kept refusing to go? What was he planning to buy this time?

The moment I leaned back against my chair with those thoughts, I felt a dull ache at the back of my head. It felt like I’d been struck by the thoughts that had been rolling along naturally.

“…Ha.”

A weak laugh escaped me. It was self-mockery.

Why do I even care?

Why am I staying in my seat, wondering where he went?

Song Yun Jae is the one who needs me.

There was no need for me to wait.

And yet, the fact that I had naturally intended to wait for him was quite a shock.

Because of him, who kept defying my expectations one by one, it felt like I was becoming strange too.

It had only been two weeks—a short time. Within that time, this annoying routine was becoming second nature.

A vague brat was threatening to become a habit.

It felt pretty sh*tty.

He only returned to the classroom near the end of lunch.

Sitting naturally in his seat among the bustling crowd of kids, he organized his desk while playing with his feet again, looking as peaceful as ever.

I stayed in my seat until the kids returned one by one and the bell rang to prepare for fifth period—until I saw him find his place in that gap, and until the urge to smoke a cigarette spiked.

I wasn’t even hungry. It was due to my crumpled mood.

Even if I didn’t want to see him, that white silhouette stuck within my line of sight was bothersome.

Thinking back, there wasn’t a single day since the beginning that he hadn’t been bothersome. He was a guy who stood out from the start. Every time, he scratched at something… curiosity, interest, annoyance, discomfort, a sense of alienation.

When you think about it, he was always scratching at my emotions, and other feelings followed as a result.

The difference was in what kind of mood the emotions he dragged in ended up creating.

Of course, most of it was irritation.

Something scratchy, generally heavy, and sometimes even fishy.

But in truth, it was just ambiguous.

F*ck.

My mood wasn’t improving at all.

Even the cigarette I was going to smoke as soon as I could get out was my last one.

I felt like a tightly pulled string. The problem was the countless fine hairs tangled over it. Those tiny things—neither clear nor pullable—were the cause of my surging irritation.

Why do I feel so sh*tty?

It was a question without an answer. It felt like I was pulling at a single stump at my feet, only for the roots to follow. The only clear fact was that the stump was Song Yun Jae; everything else was utterly vague.

The afternoon flowed by with these vague emotions overheated, much like the sunlight hitting the window.

It was near the end of eighth period when I decided to skip night self-study. It was because of Song Yun Jae’s feet, which kept entering my field of vision.

Tap, tap. His footplay, which had started at some point, reflected his mood. The fact that I knew it reflected his mood was absurd enough, but knowing it made it hard to ignore.

I thought it would be easier if I just didn’t look.

I packed my bag among the kids getting up one by one to eat dinner. Even then, all I had in there were cigarettes, earphones, a workbook I was solving, and a pencil case. It wouldn’t take long.

As I stood up quickly with my bag, I saw Song Yun Jae approaching urgently.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“No self-study?”

“Yeah.”

My answers, given without even looking at him, were all short. Whether he didn’t notice or not, Song Yun Jae seemed unbothered. His hand went toward his pocket. I knew the next step.

“Then apply this for me and—”

“Hey.”

He had touched the middle of that tightly pulled string. It was time for it to snap spectacularly.

Answering my call by meeting my gaze silently, he took a couple of steps closer. The scent that always came from him suddenly grew near.

“I think the timing for this question is f*cking late, but let me ask one thing.”

“What?”

“Why are you doing this, you?”

My bag, which had been hanging loosely off one shoulder, fell to the floor. Starting with the thud of the bag hitting the ground, the irritation I had been suppressing all afternoon burst out. I roughly brushed back my bangs.

“What about you? Are you playing with me?”

“…….”

“You were foaming at the mouth calling me a son of a b*tch for taking your cardigan off once, so why are you being so annoying now?”

Despite my sharp tone and glaring eyes, he maintained his blank face, but he showed at least a faint reaction to my last words. His Adam’s apple, which wasn’t even that prominent, seemed to move subtly as if he had swallowed. His mouth then wavered.

“Am I… annoying to you?”

Of all the things he could say, of all the things he could ask, that was it.

“Do you not get the point of the question?”

“I’m asking if I’m annoying.”

A sigh escaped me at his question that missed the point.

As he waited for my answer, I felt his gaze scan me quickly. For some reason, he looked unexpectedly cautious—a look that didn’t suit him.

“Do you look like you’re not annoying?”

A very brief silence followed. I saw Song Yun Jae clutching the end of his cardigan sleeve.

“Then, what isn’t annoying?”

“What?”

“What do I have to do to not be annoying?”

The blood drained from his hand as he gripped the edge of his sleeve, turning it white.