I decided to stop bringing extra cash every morning. Though I'd fully expected to become Park Sion’s errand boy, nothing happened. In fact, days spent with Park Sion turned out to be surprisingly ordinary—so ordinary it made me anxious.
During breaks, we exchanged meaningless chatter, copied each other’s notes occasionally, and walked together to the bus stop after class. Initially awkward, I gradually grew accustomed to his presence. Although Park Sion remained unreadable, he respected the clear boundaries I'd drawn.
Still, lunchtime with Park Sion continued to be unpleasant. Facing people like Kim Youngjin and Shin Jaeyoung, who weren’t friendly toward me, was exhausting. Kim Youngjin was particularly draining.
“Hey, I ran into Kim Shinju yesterday. Did you really smash his head?”
From what I'd observed over the past few days, Kim Youngjin wasn’t a bad guy, as Park Sion had said. He had a low boiling point, easily angered but quick to forget. Simple-minded—that was his nature.
“How did someone like you smash Kim Shinju’s head?”
He asked earnestly, scrutinizing my face. His curiosity was innocent enough, but that didn’t make our conversations enjoyable. I preferred to avoid speaking with him entirely, yet Kim Youngjin, oblivious as ever, paid no attention to my wishes.
“Why did you do it?”
Our conversations were always one-sided. Each sentence he threw at me seemed to carry a question mark, bombarding me with endless inquiries. Worse, they were topics I preferred not to discuss. Ignoring him wasn't effective—he'd simply fire off more questions. Eventually, I had to answer.
“I asked why you did it?”
“Because he pissed me off.”
“Hahaha.”
Kim Youngjin’s sole virtue was his lack of grudges. There was no need to sugarcoat things with him. Not only did he fail to grasp indirect speech, but the more bluntly I responded, the quicker our conversations ended. Unfortunately, that was his only virtue—everything else was a flaw.
“So you smashed his head because he pissed you off?”
“Yeah.”
“With what?”
“A flowerpot.”
“Amazing.”
“You want my pork cutlet, Kim Youngjin?”
“Oh, thanks!”
To divert his attention, I exchanged my pork cutlet for a brief silence. On second thought, his simple-mindedness might count as another virtue. Kim Youngjin hurriedly stuffed the pork cutlet into his mouth, completely losing interest in me.
Watching my pork cutlet vanish into Kim Youngjin’s mouth, Park Sion quietly placed his own pork cutlet onto my tray. Shin Jaeyoung, sitting across from us, stared at Park Sion in disbelief and laughed. I shared his disbelief. As Park Sion gently transferred the untouched pork cutlet onto my tray, I spoke.
“Why? You eat it.”
“I don’t like stuff like this.”
Park Sion instantly dismissed the most edible item on his tray as "stuff like this." If anyone else had said that, I would've been annoyed, but from Park Sion, it seemed fitting—maybe his refined looks matched refined tastes. Without protest, I ate the pork cutlet he’d labeled "stuff like this." It tasted decent enough.
As I chewed, I glanced at Park Sion’s tray. White rice remained untouched. He gently placed down his chopsticks, clearly intending not to eat anymore. The pork cutlet had been the only appetizing side dish, and since he'd given it to me, he was apparently finished eating.
“You’re done already? You’ll be hungry later.”
“I’m fine.”
Park Sion leaned toward me as he spoke. His hair brushed against my neck, sending a sudden shiver down my spine. He had a habit of making even non-secretive comments sound confidential. Scratching where his hair had touched me, I shoved plain rice into my mouth. Shin Jaeyoung kept snickering at me. There’s a saying that you can't spit in a smiling face, but I felt I could spit at him a hundred times over.
Because of Shin Jaeyoung’s irritating laughter and Kim Youngjin’s unpredictable questioning, I could barely eat. If possible, I'd rather not face them again. How could I naturally escape this situation?
As I picked at my plain rice, searching for a way out, I remembered Park Sion’s nearly untouched meal. Using him as an excuse to leave wouldn't invite criticism. Quickly clearing my tray, I turned to Park Sion.
“Let’s go to the snack shop. I'll buy you bread.”
Park Sion silently stared at me before slowly standing. Today, I'd willingly become an errand boy. Being alone with Park Sion was preferable to dealing with Kim Youngjin or Shin Jaeyoung—at least Park Sion wasn't noisy.
Kim Youngjin’s voice echoed behind us as we swiftly exited the cafeteria. Park Sion ignored Kim Youngjin’s call to join us at the snack shop, turning away without response. I did the same. I could apologize briefly later, so it didn't matter. Finally free from Kim Youngjin’s endless questions and Shin Jaeyoung’s irritating smirk, I followed Park Sion with lighter steps.
The snack shop was already bustling. Leaving Park Sion to choose whatever he wanted, I walked over to the beverage section. Since I knew I'd inevitably become sleepy after lunch, I planned to load up on caffeine. After debating between canned coffee and coffee milk, I chose a new coffee milk product. Its high caffeine content should keep me awake during class.
Holding the milk, I turned back toward Park Sion when I spotted Jung Suwon. We hadn't spoken much since he'd switched seats with Park Sion, so seeing him felt refreshing. Approaching Jung Suwon, who was staring at his phone with a cup ramen in front of him, I lightly tapped his shoulder.
“Hey, Jung Suwon!”
I called out warmly. Jung Suwon stared blankly at me. Pulling out the chair opposite him, I sat down.
“Didn’t eat lunch?”
“Oh... I didn't like today's menu.”
He hurriedly replied, an uncharacteristically anxious reaction for someone usually so calm. A hint of embarrassment crossed his face as he glanced around nervously, avoiding my eyes, seemingly wishing our interaction would end quickly.
I had thought we were friendly enough to at least greet each other, but maybe that had been my misunderstanding. My face flushed with embarrassment upon realizing my sense of friendship might have been one-sided. I awkwardly offered an excuse.
“It just felt like it's been a while…”
“What? We see each other in class every day.”
“Oh, right.”
By "it's been a while," I hadn't meant it literally. Though we saw each other daily in class, we rarely had face-to-face conversations. I'd expected him to share my sense of happiness, but he continued to glance around uncomfortably.
Had I been overly familiar, or had he recently heard my unpleasant rumors? Or perhaps he was distancing himself because I'd been hanging out with Park Sion lately—Jung Suwon had always seemed uneasy around him.
Already seated, I found myself in an awkward spot. Standing up now would bruise my pride, yet staying put felt inconsiderate to his discomfort. I shifted restlessly. Feeling oddly hurt by his reaction, I searched for a safe topic.
I almost resorted to mentioning the weather when our one shared topic came to mind. I awkwardly posed a question to Jung Suwon, who was still avoiding my gaze.
“Did you get over your crush?”
“What? Oh, yeah.”
I suddenly realized I'd been asking questions and he'd been reluctantly answering, exactly like Kim Youngjin had done to me. I felt ashamed, but I had to break the awkwardness somehow. If I got up now, our friendship might remain permanently confined to the classroom.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“I was worried, but you recovered quicker than I thought.”
“You were right. It got better over time.”
Maybe because we returned to a topic we often discussed, Jung Suwon seemed more at ease. He still glanced around nervously, as if wary of someone watching, but at least he wasn't as uncomfortable as when I first greeted him. It felt like all those days spent advising him about his love life had finally paid off.
Once Jung Suwon’s romance became the topic, the awkward tension between us melted away. He lowered his voice slightly, ready to dive back into our familiar counseling session.
“I heard she broke up with Kim Youngjin.”
“Already?”
“Crazy, right?”
“Totally expected.”
As I nodded, Jung Suwon snickered softly, adding, “Honestly, I thought so too.” I felt slightly guilty talking behind Kim Youngjin’s back, but the truth was, I'd predicted their breakup from the start. Kim Youngjin might look fine on the outside, but he was too crude to be considered a serious boyfriend. Plus, he was pretty stupid.
“So, you're back to your one-sided love?”
I teased him gently, nudging his arm. Jung Suwon, clearly embarrassed, kept rubbing his cheeks. His shy reaction made me burst out laughing. But when I offered him my counseling services again, Jung Suwon frowned awkwardly. I expected a simple, grateful response, so his reaction caught me off guard.
“Hey, Yoon Seonwoo…”
He seemed to have something serious to say as he parted his lips and looked directly at me. The atmosphere suddenly stiffened again. The gentle furrow in his brows deepened, and he kept glancing nervously around. Finally, his uneasy eyes settled on mine, studying me carefully. I stayed quiet, waiting for him to continue. Jung Suwon bit his lip hesitantly before slowly opening his mouth again.
“About you… I mean—”
“What are you guys talking about?”
Just as Jung Suwon began to speak, a heavy weight landed on my shoulder. I looked up to see Park Sion smiling subtly. He pulled out a chair next to Suwon and sat down casually.
Jung Suwon immediately clammed up. The anxious gaze he'd directed toward me fell instantly to the ground. Sitting next to Suwon, Park Sion smiled at me gently. Though nothing about him seemed overtly threatening, Jung Suwon’s face turned noticeably pale.
“Seonwoo, aren’t you going to pay?”
“Oh, you picked something?”
“Yeah. I've been looking everywhere for you.”
Park Sion’s lips curled upward slightly. He didn't look particularly displeased, yet something felt off.
“Suwon, I gotta go.”
I quickly addressed Jung Suwon. Staying any longer would clearly be a nuisance. His visibly tense expression made it obvious—he was uncomfortable around Park Sion. So uncomfortable that merely sharing space seemed unbearable.
I stood up swiftly. I had no intention of continuing a conversation about Jung Suwon’s love life with Park Sion nearby.
“Sorry. Let's go pay.”
I gently tugged at Park Sion’s arm. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jung Suwon frozen stiff, not even looking at me anymore.
In contrast, Park Sion appeared entirely relaxed. After calmly glancing between me and Suwon, he slowly got up. Though he didn’t seem particularly upset, a tangible tension filled the space between us. I had no idea what history lay between these two, but I urgently wanted out. I hurried toward the cashier.
“Ouch! Fuck…!”
At that moment, I heard Jung Suwon’s low curse from behind.
“Shit…”
“Are you hurt?”
Instinctively, I turned around. Jung Suwon jumped up hastily, startled. The scraping of his chair against the floor echoed loudly through the shop. Suwon stood there muttering curses, staring down at his hand, now red and swollen. Around him, spilled cup noodles lay scattered chaotically. And beside him, Park Sion—
“Sorry, I didn't see you there.”
—was apologizing without a trace of sincerity.
I rushed towards Jung Suwon, but our eyes met, and he shook his head, clearly telling me not to come. Don't come, stay away—I could almost hear his thoughts.
“You guys clean it up,” Park Sion ordered a few freshmen standing nearby. They obediently crowded around Suwon and began tidying up the mess. The busy shop buzzed even louder, and I felt utterly confused. Had Park Sion deliberately caused this? But why?
Jung Suwon stood rigidly, clenching his red hand tightly, his eyes fixed fiercely on Park Sion’s retreating back. He glared silently, though Park Sion paid him no attention at all.
“Lunch break's almost over,” Park Sion casually said, slinging his arm around my shoulder. But my feet were rooted in place, my eyes continually drawn back toward Jung Suwon. Park Sion only tightened his grip on my shoulder, nudging me forward.
As I walked away with Park Sion, I couldn't help but glance back repeatedly. The raw hostility and defeat etched onto Jung Suwon’s face felt painfully familiar. Fearful resentment toward someone unquestionably stronger. The helpless shame from being unable to fight back. And the deep humiliation stemming from total defeat.
I knew that expression far too well. It was my own face from not long ago—the same face I'd had when I'd stared with hatred at Kim Shinju.
****
It’s an unwritten law that wherever three or more people gather, a hierarchy inevitably emerges. School, being a microcosm of society, is no exception. Invisible chains of power wrap tightly around every corner here, and if my gut feeling is correct, the ones atop this particular food chain are Park Sion and his crew—with Park Sion himself likely at the apex.
In a place filled with peers wearing identical uniforms, confined within the same walls, forced into the same routines, hierarchy becomes the only tangible measure of one’s value.
What determines who sits at the top of this hierarchy varies but usually revolves around easily observable traits: height, build, fighting ability, appearance, grades, personality, wealth, and family background. All these attributes directly translate into power in the classroom.
Everyone knows that within three short years, this pointless ranking game will fade into insignificance. But knowing something intellectually doesn’t mean you can feel it emotionally, and that’s why kids like Kim Shinju and Park Sion can wield such influence.
Still, there are those who exist outside this hierarchical pyramid—individuals who don't necessarily want to overturn the structure but have no desire to occupy any rung within it. I’d pegged Jung Suwon as exactly that type. His clear discomfort around Park Sion seemed to stem from a reluctance to get tangled up in these petty power plays.
Yet today, Park Sion deliberately humiliated Jung Suwon. It was unmistakable bullying—so discreet and calculated that without Jung Suwon’s wounded expression, one might’ve easily mistaken it for a mere accident.
But why would Park Sion suddenly target Jung Suwon? There was no logical reason for him to disturb someone quietly existing outside his domain.
“What are you thinking about? Aren’t you drinking it?”
I snapped back to reality to find the coffee milk I'd bought earlier waiting for me, complete with a straw thoughtfully placed by Park Sion himself. Ironically, despite my earlier bravado about treating him, Park Sion had ended up paying. Now I owed him.
“Oh right, I said I'd pay, didn't I?”
“You can get it next time.”
“Sorry.”
Park Sion shrugged casually as if it were no big deal. Then, unexpectedly, he brought the straw directly to my lips. The hard plastic touched my mouth lightly, forcing me to accept the drink and take a sip.
“Is it good?”
“Yeah.”
No sooner had I answered than Park Sion took the carton from my hand. Before I could react, he casually placed the same straw—still damp from my mouth—between his lips. Couldn’t he have just asked? I would’ve gladly given him a new straw.
“Tastes good,” he murmured expressionlessly, handing it back to me.
Was this normal behavior? Having never closely interacted with guys my age, I honestly couldn't tell whether this was normal camaraderie or something incredibly strange. As I hesitated about drinking again, I became painfully aware of Park Sion's gaze.
He rested his chin on his hand, staring intently as if daring me to drink again. The thought of placing my mouth back onto the straw, freshly out of his lips, made me uncomfortable. Maybe I was overreacting, but I quietly set the carton down, hoping my unease wasn’t obvious. Park Sion let out a quiet laugh at my discomfort.
Had I overreacted? Perhaps sharing straws was no big deal among guys, and I should’ve just sucked it up—literally.
Noticing my hesitation, Park Sion moved closer, his arm gently wrapping around my shoulder. My body stiffened at the unexpected closeness as he whispered playfully into my ear.
“I'm type O. You can drink it safely.”
A bizarrely childish reassurance that felt oddly out of place coming from him. What did his blood type have to do with sharing a drink? Despite the absurdity, I couldn’t bring myself to ask.
Park Sion’s grip on my shoulder remained firm. With a mischievous smile, he seemed to enjoy watching me squirm, deliberately blurring the lines between a harmless joke and subtle coercion. I quickly calculated the safest response.
“Should I buy you another one?”
“No, it's fine.”
The answer came to me quickly—this was no joke. It was a thinly veiled command.
Afraid of repeating Jung Suwon’s fate, I obediently took the straw into my mouth again. The sweetness that had been pleasant moments ago now tasted bitter. Yet, I drank until the carton was empty. Park Sion continued observing me closely, seemingly amused.
I glanced aside and caught Jung Suwon’s gaze as he entered the classroom. He immediately looked away, but Park Sion didn't even acknowledge his presence. Instead, Park Sion continued scrutinizing my face as I reluctantly finished the drink.
“You suck well.”
His whisper resonated loudly in my ears. I looked up sharply, feeling an unmistakable tinge of humiliation. The way he’d said it wasn't about the drink—it felt oddly demeaning. But it was too ambiguous a remark to openly confront.
Had Jung Suwon been dragged into Park Sion’s food chain today—or was it actually me?
Pretending I hadn’t heard clearly, I looked up innocently.
“What?”
“I said you drank it well.”
“Oh, thanks to you, yeah.”
“...”
“I'll treat you next time.”
I forced my lips into a smile, though the empty carton trembled slightly in my grip. Seeing my smile, Park Sion finally withdrew his arm, apparently satisfied.
I realized grimly that it wasn’t Jung Suwon who’d been unwillingly dragged into this hierarchy—it was me.
****
I never imagined that Park Sion’s idea of being friends meant becoming his personal armrest. As soon as the break began, Park Sion draped his arm over my shoulder. At this rate, my shoulders would soon be permanently stiff. Part of me desperately wanted to shake his arm off, but I was too wary of the consequences to act impulsively.
The weight of his long, firm arm wasn’t the only discomfort—it also severely restricted my movements. Even something as basic as going to the bathroom now felt like reporting my whereabouts to Park Sion. Admittedly, being an armrest was slightly better than being a personal punching bag, but in terms of dignity, both felt equally degrading.
“Well, well—what are you two up to?”
At some point, Shin Jaeyoung had sidled up next to us, chuckling at my predicament trapped under Park Sion’s arm. I shot him an irritated glare, only to see his annoyingly good-looking face break into a smirk.
“Best friends, huh?”
Best friends, my ass. Clearly, he found this entire scene amusing. That’s probably why he was running his mouth.
Park Sion ignored Shin Jaeyoung completely. Instead, his fingers brushed lightly against my chin, almost like he was petting a dog. Anger twisted inside me.
“Hey, Yoon Sunwoo, fix your face a bit. It looks like Sion’s bullying you.”
Shin Jaeyoung, sitting on the edge of a desk, swung his legs leisurely as he spoke. He pointed teasingly at the furrow between my brows. Immediately, I sensed Park Sion’s gaze shifting towards my expression. Realizing my displeasure had been too evident, I hurriedly smoothed out my features.
“Uncomfortable?” Park Sion asked.
Countless thoughts raced through my mind in that brief silence.
Shin Jaeyoung had hit a nerve—perhaps it’d be better to admit the truth? Pretending otherwise would just seem pathetic at this point. Finally, reluctantly, I spoke up.
“Yeah, it’s a little heavy.”
Without hesitation, Park Sion withdrew his arm. My shoulder felt suddenly weightless. Was he angry? Was he about to hit me? My body tensed instinctively, watching his movements closely.
“If you’re uncomfortable, just say so next time,” he said softly.
“What?”
“I tend to get clingy without realizing it,” he continued gently, almost apologetically. “I didn’t think it’d bother you.”
His words trailed off uncertainly, sounding oddly like an excuse. I had half-expected some sarcastic remark or subtle mockery. After all, he’d openly humiliated Jung Suwon and previously ignored my discomfort at his crude jokes. But this time, nothing like that happened.
The Park Sion who spilled boiling ramen on Jung Suwon without batting an eye; the Park Sion who brushed off his sexually charged jokes as innocent comments; and the Park Sion who now removed his arm at a single word from me, speaking almost apologetically—all these images of him clashed sharply in my mind. I couldn't get a clear read on him at all.
“Haha, what bullshit,” Shin Jaeyoung laughed, his gaze flicking between my stunned expression and Park Sion’s calm face. “This is hilarious. Really touching, guys.”
Park Sion shot Shin Jaeyoung an irritated glare. I echoed his sentiment silently with a pointed look. Are you seriously still here? I hoped my eyes communicated clearly enough.
“Oh man, you two idiots are killing me. Truly touching stuff!”
With an exaggerated flourish, Shin Jaeyoung clapped Park Sion on the shoulder and rose to leave. He waved mockingly as he exited the classroom.
“Good luck, you two! Fighting!”
His voice, thick with laughter, echoed after him. He clenched his fists dramatically in encouragement, but his ambiguous remark left me uneasy. Was he genuinely encouraging our supposed friendship, or did his words conceal something more sinister? It was probably just his usual nonsense, but I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling.
Years as an outcast had primed me to interpret even trivial interactions as potential threats. I tended to catastrophize minor incidents, preparing myself mentally for the worst outcomes. Shin Jaeyoung’s ambiguous comments didn’t help—they always seemed intentionally vague, perfectly suited to my paranoid tendencies.
“Don't take what he says seriously. He’s always been like that.”
As my mind spiraled trying to interpret Shin Jaeyoung’s intentions, Park Sion spoke again, chin resting in his hand, expression blank once more. His slow blink carried an implicit warning.
“Just ignore him.”
Though gentle, Park Sion’s tone was firm, making clear it wasn't a suggestion but rather an instruction on how I was expected to behave. Yet the rebel inside me stirred stubbornly. He’d told me to speak up if something bothered me—didn’t that mean I could ask questions too?
Normally, I’d obediently nod and let it go. But now that he explicitly told me to ignore Shin Jaeyoung, I felt a stubborn urge to press further. Unable to openly challenge him, I instead forced a weak smile and asked casually:
“What exactly did he mean by ‘good luck,’ anyway?”
“I told him I wanted to be friends with you,” Park Sion replied simply.
“...”
“That’s probably what he meant.”
Again with the friend nonsense. Did Park Sion really think I'd buy that?
Yet, if not genuine friendship, I couldn't fathom his intentions. If Park Sion truly wanted to torment me, he didn't need elaborate schemes—he could’ve treated me exactly how he'd treated Jung Suwon. Yet he hadn’t. Sure, he occasionally used me as an armrest, but unlike Kim Shinju, he never physically hurt me or exploited me like some errand boy.
Could his declaration about wanting friendship actually be sincere?
“I really do want to get close to you,” Park Sion murmured, as if reading my thoughts.
His pale hand gently grasped my forearm. The touch was cold, but a faint warmth radiated where our skin met. His calm eyes bore no trace of mockery.
I couldn't know his true intentions, but strangely, Park Sion’s words rang genuine to me. When I remained silently focused on him, a soft smile gradually curved his lips. For a long moment, I stared helplessly, as if hypnotized, unable to look away from his face.