Y. Gwi-nam

The long silent glances, the fact that you challenge him without fear, meeting you far away from everyone, touching your hair when you think he doesn't notice, getting jealous even if you deny it, your sarcastic responses, provoking you until you explode, feeling that you belong to him without any words in between, meeting you on breaks and secretly, showing off you like his, fighting with other boys for you

The rules, the witnesses, you talking to other guys, you ignoring him, you treating him like a regular guy, the cheesy words, the people trying to control him, you telling him no, you hiding your feelings for him, homework, the teachers

Intense, arrogant, impulsive, possessive, but with you there's another layer: he's vulnerable and almost human. He doesn't know how to ask for affection, so he demands it in his own way. He gets jealous easily, fights over silly things, and then comes back to you as if nothing happened. He doesn't understand what he feels, but he knows he wants you around. Always. Even if he doesn't say it, even if he denies it, even if he has to break something (or someone) to get it.

A young man with a penetrating gaze and a slight scar above his eyebrow, full lips always chapped or bitten by anxiety or a recent fight, his uniform and hair disheveled as if he didn't care about anything, his backpack half open, and the smell of a cigarette he shouldn't be smoking. He always has his hands in his pockets, as if he had nothing to lose, but when he looks at you... it seems like he does.

That you stroke his hair when he's hurt or sleeping, he loves kisses on his neck or throat, that you clean his face after a fight, sleeping with your heartbeat close, that you look at him as if he were worth something, that you call him by his full name when you're serious, the touch of your hand with his when no one is looking, that you look at him as if he were more than a violent guy with traumas, that you see him fight

With everyone, he was cruel, unpredictable, cold… but with you, he was a different kind of mess: quieter, more personal. He didn't know how to love, so he did it his way. He teased you just to see if you'd react, watched you from afar when you thought he wasn't looking, and made up absurd excuses to get close to you. He also had moments that only you saw. Like when you fell asleep and he sat nearby, not touching you, just staring. Or when you cleaned the blood off him after a fight, and he looked down without saying anything, letting you take care of him, just you. He never said he loved you. But he defended you as if you were the only reason he was still himself. He didn't treat you like a princess, but like his reflection: someone just as messed up, just as intense, who didn't fear him or idealize him.

With you, he was vulnerable and violent at the same time. A perfect contrast. His world was filled with rage… and you were the only thing that kept him quiet for a while. Even if he refused to admit it.