Cold morning air rushed in when Seung-ho got into the driver's seat.

Hyo-bin sat in the passenger side. The heater was pushing loud, dry air into the narrow cabin as they drove down the street. Neither of them spoke.

Seung-ho sniffed his nose and rubbed his face.

"There are tissues in the compartment," he said. "Can you give me one?"

As Hyo-bin looked out the passenger window, he watched people walk down the gray pavement.

"Get it yourself," he said.

Seung-ho sighed and leaned forward to pull a tissue from the compartment. He wiped his eyes and blew his nose.

Engine noise was filling the cabin while they waited at a red light. Hyo-bin continued looking through the glass.

"What happened to you?" he asked. "Did you have a funeral or something?"

When the traffic light turned green, Seung-ho stepped on the gas pedal.

"Why?" he asked. "Are you gonna comfort me?"

"Comfort you?" Hyo-bin asked. "I'm just asking because you look pathetic. Crying doesn't suit you at all, spoiled bitch."

Seung-ho held the steering wheel hard.

"I look pathetic?" he asked in a loud voice. "You dragged me here this morning because you couldn't even afford bus fare, but I'm the pathetic one?"

"I didn't drag you here, I told you not to come. Watch your mouth, Seo Seung-ho," Hyo-bin said.

"Or what?" Seung-ho asked. "You're gonna smash my face in? You act tough at school, but you're just a broke kid who begs for rides."

The car was moving down the busy street when Hyo-bin swung his hand and hit Seung-ho's shoulder hard.

The car swerved across the lane. 

Seung-ho slammed the brakes and tires screeched against the asphalt. He pulled the car toward the right curb and shoved the gear into park.

"You motherfucker! Are you fucking trying to kill us?" he shouted as he turned and grabbed Hyo-bin's jacket collar.

Hyo-bin caught his wrists and pushed him back against the seat.

"Let go of me, you bastard!" he yelled.

"You hit me first while I was driving!" Seung-ho shouted. He pushed Hyo-bin's chest hard.

Hyo-bin's back hit the passenger door glass.

"Because you don't know when to shut the fuck up!" he yelled. He grabbed Seung-ho's shirt to pull him closer. He punched his shoulder.

Seung-ho caught his hair and shoved his head back.

"You and your fake pride, Choi Hyo-bin!"

They struggled in the narrow space between the front seats. Hyo-bin kicked the dashboard and pushed him away. After he opened the door, he stepped out into the cold air. Morning traffic was moving past the parked car as he stood on the pavement.

"Fuck off, Seo Seung-ho!" he shouted.

He slammed the car door and walked down the street.

Seung-ho's hands were shaking while he started the car. He yelled, "Fucking idiot!" and drove past Hyo-bin fast.

As Hyo-bin watched the car drive away, he felt so angry he could throw up.

Now he had to walk even further. On top of that, a heavy rain started to fall. When he ran inside a nearby store, his eyes were wet. He could still hear Seung-ho's voice in his head.

He walked around the store for ten minutes to wait for the rain to stop.

He stopped in front of the food shelf and looked at the triangle kimbap. Bright "1+1" stickers rested on the plastic wrappers. He felt his empty stomach twist, and the cashier was already staring at him with angry eyes.

He walked outside slowly. As he took out his phone to call Soo-bin, he saw Seung-ho walk toward him. As they stood in front of each other, the hard rain made them wet.

Seung-ho said, "Get in the car."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Hyo-bin yelled. "I don't wanna get in your car. Why don't you fucking leave!" Then he turned his back.

"Fuck!" Seung-ho said. He walked after him and grabbed his arm.

"Get in the fucking car Hyo-bin!"

Hyo-bin had not understood his reasons since the morning, but he gave up.

"Okay," he said. "Just don't touch me!"

—

They were sitting in a quiet corner of the Lane 9 Cafe across from the school.

Seung-ho stood up. 

"I'm gonna get some coffee," he said. "What do you want?"

"I don't want anything," Hyo-bin said.

"Ya," Seung-ho said. "I'm sorry for saying those things, okay? I was just really stressed out. I just wanna finish this project, so tell me what you wanna drink."

"I told you I don't want anything to drink," Hyo-bin said.

"Okay," Seung-ho said, and he walked to the register.

Hyo-bin watched him walk away. He looked at Seung-ho's clothes, his hair, and the confident way he walked. Then he looked at the expensive laptop and the car keys Seung-ho had left on the table.

He realized again that the national team was the only way he would ever make it.

He took his own cheap laptop from his bag and opened it.

When Seung-ho came back, he had two black Americanos in his hands.

"Figured you still hated sugar," he said.

Hyo-bin pushed the coffee to the side of the table. As he turned his laptop to face Seung-ho, he read the topics from the screen.

"Some of the things we need to research are these," he said. "Psychological Pressure and Anxiety about the Future. Injury and Quality of Treatment. Nutrition and Supplements."

Right then, his stomach made a loud noise from hunger.

Seung-ho looked at him and asked, "Are you hungry?"

"None of your business," Hyo-bin said. "I'll go eat something after we finish this."

"But you have no money," Seung-ho said.

Hyo-bin sighed.

"Anyway, back to the topics, Seo Seung-ho," he said. "Private Tutoring Culture. Barrier to Entry and Access to Equipment. Add to these if you can think of anything else."

"I guess we'll go over these," Seung-ho said.

Hyo-bin leaned back and looked at him.

"Ya, I have an offer for you. I'll do the whole project myself. This team-peul¹ grade is important to me to graduate. That way, we won't have to meet until the presentation."

"What?" Seung-ho asked. He leaned back in his chair. "This was my topic anyway. You can't do it by yourself."

Hyo-bin leaned forward.

"I'm trying to do you a favor. You can focus better on practice this way," he said.

Seung-ho rubbed his forehead with his hand.

"Ya, why do you have to be so difficult, Choi Hyo-bin?" he asked, "I don't even care about practice. I just wanna do my project."

Hyo-bin grinned.

"Ya, do you have no hope left of beating me?" he asked.

"What?" Seung-ho asked. "What do you think? You think I don't beat you because I can't beat you?"

Hyo-bin looked surprised this time.

"What did you say?" he asked.

"You heard me, asshole. You think I've been losing to you because I can't win?"

Hyo-bin laughed.

"Ya, Seo Seung-ho, it's impossible for you to beat me. You know that," he said.

Seung-ho looked at him with nothing but hate in his eyes.

"Yeah?" he said. "Alright, let's make a deal. Tonight at practice, if I beat you in the relay, we'll do the project together. If I don't beat you, then I'll do it on my own. You in?"

"You're dreaming," Hyo-bin said. "There's no way you're gonna beat me. This is not high school, idiot."

"I'll see you at practice."

Seung-ho slammed his laptop shut and put it in his bag. Then he took the coffee from the table in front of Hyo-bin and stood up. As he walked out the door, he threw the cup into the trash can by the wall.

"See you at practice," Hyo-bin muttered behind him.

—

¹ 팀플 (tim-peul) A Korean slang term shortened from "team project" or "teamplay." It refers to the collective effort and social coordination required in group work. It often implies the burden of responsibility and the messy interpersonal dynamics that come with being part of a team.