Page 17
Story: Vicious Spirits
“People like me?” Junu let his lips quirk in an amused smile, and Somin wanted nothing more than to wipe it from his face. “You mean the devilishly handsome kind?”
“Well, the devilish kind at least,” Somin said.
“You have to admit that we’d have fun,” Junu said with a cajoling grin.
Somin made a gagging noise. “Trust me. I don’t go for your type.”
“What type is that?”
“The type that’s all smoke and no substance. You want people to think you’re so hot and mysterious, but I bet behind all of your shine and smiles, there’s nothing to back up your big talk.”
Somin was used to her words hitting home. They were how she kept bullies in line at school. After all, she knew Junu was like the kids who stole lunch money from first-years, someone who was so insecure that he buried it in bravado. But one poke and they deflated like an old balloon.
Instead of the effect she was hoping for, Junu’s smile spread as he leaned a little closer. “You should just admit that you’re intrigued by what could be behind the smoke. Or are you afraid of getting burned?”
“I’m afraid of getting emphysema,” Somin said, crossing her arms. Refusing to let him see how he affected her even as her pulse raced.
Changwan came around the corner, carefully balancing three overfilled cups of coffee, and Somin latched on to the excuse to turn her back on Junu’s unflinching grin. Changwan must have gotten the coffee from one of the vending machines, because none of them had lids, which was a huge mistake, as she could see some of the coffee had already splashed and stained his shirt.
“Changwan-ah,” Somin said. “You shouldn’t walk so fast while carrying these.”
“I didn’t want them to get cold,” he said, wincing as more hot coffee splashed onto his bare hand, already pink from previous spills.
Before Somin could reach out, Junu had deftly plucked two cups from Changwan’s hands and held one out to her. She debated not taking it. Or better yet, upending it on him. But she knew it would be a childish move, so she took it, being careful to make sure her hand never came in contact with his.
She blew on it, but even so, when she sipped it, the coffee was a bit too hot and she let out a hiss as it went down.
“Careful, you don’t want to get burned,” Junu said, watching her over the rim of his own cup. The way he said it, with that smug tone, Somin knew that he meant more than the coffee.
A booming voice echoed across the hospital waiting room: “Changwan!” It wasn’t a shout, but it was deep and authoritative.“How dare you leave your study session.” Changwan’s father came over to jab his finger in his son’s chest to emphasize his displeasure. He was tall, like his son. But where Changwan was all gangly limbs and awkward angles, his father had a filled-out frame that Somin knew came from regular workouts with a trainer. Changwan had once been forced to train with them for a week. He’d been so sore that he could barely walk and claimed he had bruises in places he’d never knew existed before. Soon, his father had given up on getting his son to build up muscle, just like he’d given up on so many things when it came to Changwan.
“But, Abeoji, my friend was—”
Changwan was cut off as his father slapped him on the back of the head, the thwack of his palm against Changwan’s skull loud and jarring. Somin wanted to intervene somehow. But instead, it was Junu who acted.
Somin watched, openmouthed, as the dokkaebi planted himself like a living shield between Changwan and his seething father.
“Sir, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Junu,” he said, but his voice was cold and he didn’t give a respectful bow of greeting. Instead he just slightly inclined his head. Something that definitely wouldn’t be lost on Changwan’s father.
Mr. Oh’s jaw clenched. “I don’t have time to make small talk with your friends, Changwan. Get in the car.”
“Yes, Abeoji.”
“Surely, he can visit a sick friend,” Junu said.
“Is she dying?” Mr. Oh asked.
“Not that I’m aware of,” Junu said, and Somin realized the dokkaebi’s fist was clenched tightly at his side, like he held it there instead of letting it slam into Mr. Oh’s face.
“Then he can see her when she gets out of the hospital. Changwan!” Mr. Oh boomed as he turned toward the exit. He didn’t even look back to ensure his son followed him, so complete was his confidence in his authority.
“I’ll see you later, Hyeong. Somin-ah,” Changwan mumbled, his eyes lowered with embarrassment. Somin started to reach out, thinking to comfort Changwan. But he darted after his father with his shoulders hunched.
“What was that?” Somin asked, turning to Junu.
“Nothing.”
“You looked like you wanted to punch Changwan’s father in the face.”
“Well, the devilish kind at least,” Somin said.
“You have to admit that we’d have fun,” Junu said with a cajoling grin.
Somin made a gagging noise. “Trust me. I don’t go for your type.”
“What type is that?”
“The type that’s all smoke and no substance. You want people to think you’re so hot and mysterious, but I bet behind all of your shine and smiles, there’s nothing to back up your big talk.”
Somin was used to her words hitting home. They were how she kept bullies in line at school. After all, she knew Junu was like the kids who stole lunch money from first-years, someone who was so insecure that he buried it in bravado. But one poke and they deflated like an old balloon.
Instead of the effect she was hoping for, Junu’s smile spread as he leaned a little closer. “You should just admit that you’re intrigued by what could be behind the smoke. Or are you afraid of getting burned?”
“I’m afraid of getting emphysema,” Somin said, crossing her arms. Refusing to let him see how he affected her even as her pulse raced.
Changwan came around the corner, carefully balancing three overfilled cups of coffee, and Somin latched on to the excuse to turn her back on Junu’s unflinching grin. Changwan must have gotten the coffee from one of the vending machines, because none of them had lids, which was a huge mistake, as she could see some of the coffee had already splashed and stained his shirt.
“Changwan-ah,” Somin said. “You shouldn’t walk so fast while carrying these.”
“I didn’t want them to get cold,” he said, wincing as more hot coffee splashed onto his bare hand, already pink from previous spills.
Before Somin could reach out, Junu had deftly plucked two cups from Changwan’s hands and held one out to her. She debated not taking it. Or better yet, upending it on him. But she knew it would be a childish move, so she took it, being careful to make sure her hand never came in contact with his.
She blew on it, but even so, when she sipped it, the coffee was a bit too hot and she let out a hiss as it went down.
“Careful, you don’t want to get burned,” Junu said, watching her over the rim of his own cup. The way he said it, with that smug tone, Somin knew that he meant more than the coffee.
A booming voice echoed across the hospital waiting room: “Changwan!” It wasn’t a shout, but it was deep and authoritative.“How dare you leave your study session.” Changwan’s father came over to jab his finger in his son’s chest to emphasize his displeasure. He was tall, like his son. But where Changwan was all gangly limbs and awkward angles, his father had a filled-out frame that Somin knew came from regular workouts with a trainer. Changwan had once been forced to train with them for a week. He’d been so sore that he could barely walk and claimed he had bruises in places he’d never knew existed before. Soon, his father had given up on getting his son to build up muscle, just like he’d given up on so many things when it came to Changwan.
“But, Abeoji, my friend was—”
Changwan was cut off as his father slapped him on the back of the head, the thwack of his palm against Changwan’s skull loud and jarring. Somin wanted to intervene somehow. But instead, it was Junu who acted.
Somin watched, openmouthed, as the dokkaebi planted himself like a living shield between Changwan and his seething father.
“Sir, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Junu,” he said, but his voice was cold and he didn’t give a respectful bow of greeting. Instead he just slightly inclined his head. Something that definitely wouldn’t be lost on Changwan’s father.
Mr. Oh’s jaw clenched. “I don’t have time to make small talk with your friends, Changwan. Get in the car.”
“Yes, Abeoji.”
“Surely, he can visit a sick friend,” Junu said.
“Is she dying?” Mr. Oh asked.
“Not that I’m aware of,” Junu said, and Somin realized the dokkaebi’s fist was clenched tightly at his side, like he held it there instead of letting it slam into Mr. Oh’s face.
“Then he can see her when she gets out of the hospital. Changwan!” Mr. Oh boomed as he turned toward the exit. He didn’t even look back to ensure his son followed him, so complete was his confidence in his authority.
“I’ll see you later, Hyeong. Somin-ah,” Changwan mumbled, his eyes lowered with embarrassment. Somin started to reach out, thinking to comfort Changwan. But he darted after his father with his shoulders hunched.
“What was that?” Somin asked, turning to Junu.
“Nothing.”
“You looked like you wanted to punch Changwan’s father in the face.”
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