"Three-pointer!" exclaimed the teacher, pressing his whistle to his lips. He turned and looked at the frozen student. He frowned and barked rudely. "What are you standing there for?! Give them points!"

The boy, drenched in sweat, looked timidly at the teacher and turned to the spectacles stand. With trembling hands he turned the card over three times.

"Not them!" the man slapped him on his thin bony shoulder. Nodding convulsively, the teenager quickly corrected himself. At last he felt the teacher shake his head in satisfaction and move away, and he exhaled loudly.

A real game was brewing on the court.

On the benches in the distance sat a few liberated and just plain lazy teenagers. Their conversations were drowned out by the shouts of the people on the court, so most of the time the teacher paid no attention to them at all, preferring to deal with the active kids.

In the center, Dae Han was sitting with his buddies. He had a packet of sweet pomegranate juice in his hand. He gently swallowed the tube with his tongue and swallowed quickly, looking around the basketball court with a haughty look. His classmate landed to the side, sweaty from running, and Dae Han, throwing a devastating look at him, lightly pushed the boy away. He looked at him and without a word got up and sat down.

His friend, taking cheesy popcorn out of his backpack, not distracted from the intense battle between his class and the parallel, asked:

"Aren't you going to go play?"

Dae Han, taking another sip, carelessly threw in:

"Mmmm, to sweat and smell like a pig later? No shit."

A cold voice sounded nearby:

"You don't need to play, you stink anyway."

Dae Han turned his head sharply, his eyes flashing angrily. On the right, a little farther away, sat Chom Jamin from the parallel class. A slight stance, elongated pale fingers with rubbed reddened bones, thin black bangs slightly covering greenish eyes. Two fingers, middle and ring finger, had several silver rings with indecipherable engravings on them.

Lazily twitching a button on the neat cuff of his pressed white shirt, Jamin puckered his slightly pouting lips and blew briefly on his bangs, dislodging them from his eyes. He looked so unapproachable and cold that the blood in his veins chilled with every glance at his face.

Dae Han was getting creepily annoyed with the arrogant man.

"Fuck you," he spat out with bile. "I'd break all your legs if it wasn't for your dancing."

Jamin bit his lower lip and tilted his head to the side. He rested his right hand on his chin, creating a slight crease, and cocked an ironic eyebrow.

"Can you reach it?"

"You freak!"

Dae Han was ready to lunge furiously in his direction. The veins in his arms swelled and the corners of his eyes turned slightly red. His friend, who saw the clearly directed gaze of the teacher who smelled the start of the fight, tried to stop Gum Dae Han, but his fingers, sticky with popcorn, only grabbed the edge of his shirt, but immediately slipped out. Jamin boredly looked at the frenzied guy and only pursed his lips.

Bam!

Like a whirlwind, something flew past him and collided with Dae Han's head. He couldn't hold on and fell off the bench at the same moment.

Scarlet pomegranate juice splattered sideways.

There was silence in the hall. Jamin stared at the stained shirt in disgust, clenching his lips together sharply. The jumped up friend covered his mouth with the palm of his hand in horror.

Dae Han lifted himself up on trembling elbows and, feeling something rolling down his chin, put a hand to it.

There was blood on his fingers.

His vision was blurry. With his mouth ajar from shock, Dae Han, his legs hanging over the bench, looked around.

A wide, slightly damp palm suddenly appeared beside him. It easily picked up the ball with its strong fingertips and immediately disappeared. Following it, Dae Han hiccupped softly in amazement.

Jensen, straightening up, hummed.

"Sorry. Missed."

Dae Han wiped blood off his face with a trembling palm and tried to rise, but his hands kept slipping and he was back on his elbows.

The game paused, and now almost the entire hall was watching him.

He clenched his eyes shut, clenching his teeth. Hate flared up inside him.

"What the fuck?"

"You didn't answer my question, and I took the more pleasant option," Jensen shrugged nonchalantly.

Remembering the damn piece of paper that was now burning his pocket, Dae Han groaned silently at the pain in the bridge of his nose.

That scum...

"Are you fucking fearless or...?" threw out his buddy sharply, waking up from his stupor. He was ready to grab hold of Jensen with his hands and throw him down.

The guy brushed his bangs back from his damp forehead, looked at him, and smiled.

"So?" he planted a basketball and put his index finger up, beginning to spin it around. Jensen's posture was relaxed, as if he were standing in line for a kimpab, and he even yawned, showing complete indifference to the situation. This infuriated Dae Han even more. "The end of the sentence is coming, no?"

"Bitch, I'm going to get up and..."

"You don't have to bother. You look good," he pointed to the blond boy's amusedly stooped legs, and chuckled. "Suits you."

"What's the situation?" the teacher asked, approaching them.

Jensen turned to the man and shrugged, still spinning the ball.

"I wanted to make the pass, but my hand slipped."

The teacher looked at Dae Han sprawled on the floor and smirked slightly. The latter, noticing the stranger's disdain, mourned his face.

"Teacher, I...!"

"It's your own fault," the man threw the whistle carelessly over his shoulder. "A big guy, and you sit on the bench like a fifth grader with a certificate."

Gum Dae Han immediately blushed when he heard such derogatory words from the older man.

The man, with a sigh, continued:

"All right. Go see the medic. And you," he glanced at Jensen, who continued to stand there, rarely licking his wet lips. "You get the inventory together after class."

He nodded accordingly.

The teacher turned away and, seeing the faces frozen in shock, barked:

"What are you staring at?! Playing!"

Jensen turned to the still lying Dae Han. Leaning slightly, he stretched his lips in a smirk.

His gaze caught on a guy sitting next to him with a ruined white shirt that was showing pink stains. He pulled his lips together into a tube and opened Dae Han's backpack, which was lying on a bench. Dae Han jumped up in spite of the pain. His torn elbows ached. He clenched his fist and prepared to swing it at his adversary, but was immediately stopped by the grim look in his teacher's eyes.

Jensen, whistling softly, took out a pack of wet, fragrant wipes from his backpack. He handed them to Jamin and turned his eyes back to Dae Han, who was darkened with rage.

"What? You're a model sunbae. It's worth it to help your peers if you've been naughty, isn't it?

He smiled, moving his gaze for a moment to the boy he'd given the napkins to. The alien stare, nibbling at flesh like a knife blade, went all over his body, sending a few goosebumps down his arms. Jensen stretched his lips without taking his eyes off him, and turned back to his teammates, who patted him warmly on the shoulder, taking him back into the game.

His powerful back, clad in his white jersey, looked imposing. Jamin, clutching the tissues that wet his thin fingers, didn't take his eyes off it until the end of the match.