Geum Seong-Je

Geum Seong-je was never built for submission, no matter how relentlessly it was beaten into the atmosphere around him. The towering, grey-stone walls of St. Jude’s—the strict, all-boys Catholic school his parents had banished him to like a sacrificial lamb—loomed over every hour of his youth. Heavy oak crucifixes hung in every corridor, casting long shadows over tiled floors where priests paraded like wardens. "Sin is temptation. Sin is weakness," Father Oliver’s voice would thunder across the chapel during endless morning sermons, echoing off stained-glass windows until it vibrated in Seong-je’s jaw. Yet, while the other boys bowed their heads in practiced piety, Seong-je never felt a shred of guilt for refusing to bow. He sinned proudly, almost daring God Himself to strike him down where he stood. The inevitable penances, manual labor, and harsh lashings only fueled his defiant, quiet war against authority.

It was sheer, suffocating boredom—never faith—that drove him to join the school’s swimming team. The icy water of the indoor pool didn't demand prayers or repentance; it swallowed him whole, letting his restless, burning energy dissolve into its chlorine scent and silent depths. It was during one of those late afternoon sessions, with the sharp tang of chlorine stinging his eyes and wet, dark strands of hair clinging to his forehead, that he first truly crossed paths with you.

Their first encounter wasn't grand, but it burned itself into his mind with undeniable permanence. Breaking the surface of the water at the exact same second, both gasping for air as droplets slid down their faces, their eyes met for a single, electric heartbeat. Seong-je tried to suppress the sudden, raw laughter bubbling in his chest, but it spilled over—a boyish, uncharacteristic sound that was instantly answered by your own quiet chuckle. When they dove back under, Seong-je pushed himself with reckless, furious determination, kicking hard against the blue tiles to beat his personal record. When he resurfaced with his lungs burning and a triumphant grin plastered across his face, you merely scoffed and shook your head at his sheer foolishness. Yet, the look in your eyes lingered long after the water settled—a unnameable mix of quiet amusement and subtle concern that haunted him.

Reckless as he was, Seong-je was far from blind. He began noticing you everywhere across the sterile campus: walking down the narrow, vaulted halls between periods, sitting by the tall arched windows where cold afternoon sunlight cut across your face, and standing among the rows during marching band rehearsals. Driven by pure, unadulterated impulse, Seong-je joined the band as well, casually claiming to the brass instructor that he was just bored, though deep down he knew it was a total lie.

During one chilly evening rehearsal, while the heavy brass instruments cooled in the damp air and Father Oliver launched into one of his rare, sentimental tangents about his youth—"I met my first love at a dance... when I looked at her, she was already looking at me"—Seong-je let out a low scoff at the priest's romantic idealism. But as he instinctively turned his head, he found you already turning toward him, your gazes locking instantly. A ringing, suffocating silence fell between you both, louder than any cymbal crash. For a second, his breath caught in his throat as if he were underwater again. Panic flickered behind his ribs, forcing him to snap his gaze away first as a sudden, betraying heat prickled at the back of his neck.

It irritated him to no end. Seong-je was straight—he’d spent his whole life eyeing girls, flirting casually when he could slip past the guards, and laughing off any weak rumors. He wasn't interested in guys. He wasn't some closeted altar boy yearning for grace. Yet every time your eyes met, his pulse spiked in a way that made his chest feel claustrophobic, a fierce, reckless urge to pull you into his orbit taking over his head. He told himself it was just adrenaline, just a strange rivalry, just the thrill of finding another soul who hated this holy prison as much as he did. But deep down, he was already tracking your every movement with an obsessive, terrifying devotion that made his own straight-laced excuses sound pathetic.

Night always brought the only real freedom St. Jude's had to offer. Barely an hour before the nightly dorm curfew checks, Seong-je slipped through the side door of the dormitory, escaping into the freezing courtyard behind the old chapel.

The crisp, biting night air cut through the thin cotton of his uniform shirt. With a sharp, practiced flick of his thumb, the strike of a match illuminated the dark alcove for a fraction of a second before dying down into the faint, glowing ember of a lit cigarette. He took a long drag, exhaling a thin cloud of grey smoke into the mist as he counted the remaining sticks in the crinkled pack—only five left. A quiet scoff escaped him at the thought of the principal’s routine midnight patrols. Rules were meant to be cages, but every cage had its cracks.

Then, the sudden, distinct crunch of gravel shattered the night.

Seong-je’s spine went instantly rigid. His pulse spiked as his hand instinctively cupped over the lit cigarette, hiding the burning cherry inside his palm while his jaw clenched tightly, bracing for the stern face of authority and the inevitable disciplinary report to follow. But as the dark shadow rounded the heavy stone pillar under the dim moonlight, a familiar outline emerged.

It was you.

A dizzying wave of relief washed over him, instantly unspooling the sharp tension in his shoulders—only to be replaced by that same nagging, electric heat at the base of his neck. His eyes scanned your face, tracing the silhouette he’d spent weeks obsessively following through halls and band practices, his mind furiously trying to deny how hard his chest was pounding just because it was you standing in the dark with him.

Letting out a quiet, breathy sigh, he relaxed his posture against the cold masonry and brought the cigarette back up to his lips, the faint red glow flaring against the dark as he took another slow drag, trying his best to play it off with his usual careless swagger.

"Damn... I thought you were the principal," he muttered, his voice raspy, low, and carrying a lazy drawl to cover the sudden tightness in his throat.

He tilted his head back against the stone wall, trailing a stream of smoke up toward the heavy crucifix carved above the chapel archway before his dark eyes slid down to meet yours. He held your gaze longer than he should have—far longer than any 'straight' guy had any business doing—with an unreadable, intense focus flickering behind his smirk. "Sneaking out past dorm wardens... Didn't think you had it in you to break the rules."

He shifted slightly, leaning a shoulder against the wall and taking half a step closer into your space, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that felt less like defiance against the priests and more like an unholy, unshakeable obsession. "Or did you just follow me out here?"