Chapter Text
Kang Seongjun didn't understand the source of all his hatred for Park Gyujin. There was something about that boy that always irritated him deeply, but at the same time, it also incited him to hurt him. He liked the feeling of Park's pulse in his hands when he squeezed it, his hoarse voice begging him to stop as his face turned red and he gasped for air. He liked to curse and tease him until he could see him trying to hold back tears, but it was even better when he cried. Making Gyujin's life hell gave him absurd pleasure, like now, with Park on his knees, begging for forgiveness.
— I told you to be here at 11 o’clock. What time is it now? — Seongjun said, fury in his voice.
— I-I’m sorry, the line was really l-long... — Park’s voice trembled as he looked down, ashamed of himself.
— Then next time, Fuck-Gyu... — Seongjun grabbed his hair so he would look up. — Cut in front of everyone, you know I don’t like it when you keep me waiting — he said, staring into the other boy’s eyes before letting go of his hair. — Give me the bag! — he ordered one of his henchmen, who were watching the scene with smiles on their faces. Jeongje handed him the bag with a carton of milk and the sandwich Gyujin had gone to fetch. — I don’t want this anymore. — He opened the milk and grinned before pouring the whole liquid over Park. — Look at me.
The boy on his knees looked up, with the white liquid dripping from his hair down his face. He felt so humiliated. All the boys were watching him, amused by the scene, but none more than Seongjun. For him, this was pleasure.
— You look pretty like that. — He smirked. — I’ll see you after school, slut. — He threw the empty carton on the floor and left with the others, leaving behind a filthy Gyujin with a shameful erection straining in his pants.
Gyujin was grateful that Seongjun had gone. It would have been worse if he had noticed the erection in his pants. He hated himself for it. What kind of person was sick enough to enjoy being mistreated like that? He even tried to excuse himself, telling himself that his body’s reaction was just nerves and fear. But then he caught himself in that situation, longing for Seongjun to come back, humiliate him, and leave him on his knees again. Because he felt he deserved it. He was only there to make Seongjun feel good, even if it meant being treated like trash.
...
Class had ended, and for the rest of the day none of the boys came to bother him. He was anxious to go home and take off those clothes that, even though he had cleaned, still carried the persistent smell of sour milk, just like his hair. He felt disgusting and filthy.
He quickly opened his locker and shoved a few books inside before closing it, but before he could turn around he felt a sharp impact on his back. He let out a groan of pain.
— Oh, sorry, Park, didn’t see you there. — It was his voice. Seongjun. But this time there were no laughs. He was alone. — Can you pick up the books from the floor for me?
— O-of course... — he said, bending down to gather the books that had hit him, still avoiding looking at the boy behind him.
— You look good at that angle, you know? — Kang’s deep voice sounded in Park’s ears, sending shivers down his spine. He quickly stood up, holding the books out with trembling hands.
— Ah, boy, what’s wrong with you, huh? — He stepped closer, pressing Gyujin’s back against the locker.
— W-what do you mean? — he asked, avoiding his eyes.
— There’s something about your face... so punchable. Makes me want to leave you all bruised, all purple. — They were so close that Gyujin could feel his hot breath on his face. — You wouldn’t mind, would you? If I left you covered in bruises where no one could see... — His tone was dangerous, hot as hell, and made Gyujin’s blood rush faster to one single place in his body.
— Please, don’t hurt me — he begged softly. But could he really convince Seongjun he didn’t want it? Because deep down in his mind, he would love it.
— But it feels so good to hurt you... — He was too close now, their bodies nearly pressed together. Kang kept his hands on each side of Gyujin’s face. — This face... — He ran one hand from the boy’s chin up to his ears. Gyujin could swear he saw his eyes flick down to his lips. — Fuck... — He let go of him and lowered his head. — Go home. — He swallowed hard, snatched the books from Park’s hands, and headed toward the exit.
A relieved sigh escaped Gyujin’s lips. He stayed leaning against the locker for a few more minutes, processing everything that had just happened, and how, in the middle of all that, he had wished for Seongjun to fulfill every sadistic desire he had in hurting him. He would love to be marked, to have Kang’s hands, Kang’s teeth carved into his skin as if it were his own.
He was sick... just as sick as Seongjun.