Unrequited Love Thresher-Chapter 69: Wave

Arriving early at school, Ha Giyeon looked around the empty classroom before sitting at his desk. He pulled out a workbook and began solving problems, the only sound in the room the scratch of his pen on paper.

Only after 7 a.m. did footsteps begin echoing along the stairs and hallways. He took out a mask and put it on, refocusing on his workbook.

“Oh? It’s Ha Giyeon.”

“Whoa, are you okay?”

One by one, as students entered and spotted him, they asked if he was alright. He responded, flustered but with a small smile.

Others in the classroom watched him quietly.

The students who arrived after him weren’t part of Nam Taekyung’s group.

Nam Taekyung usually came a little later, and Ha Giyeon always arrived first. As they watched Giyeon quietly solving problems as usual, they gradually began to take interest.

To be honest, they’d been wary of him the moment they found out he was Ha Dohoon’s younger brother. His first impression had been that of the quiet, studious kid every class ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) has—one you might not even remember if not for the attendance sheet. If he hadn’t been Ha Dohoon’s brother, they probably wouldn’t even know his name.

Unlike the flashy, attention-grabbing Ha Dohoon, Giyeon was quiet and unremarkable.

At first, sure, he seemed reserved—but once it was revealed that he was Dohoon’s brother, everyone assumed he’d hang out with the same crowd—the so-called iljin group.

In their class, the iljin group obviously revolved around Nam Taekyung. He stood out with good grades and a high profile, but the guys around him were iljin through and through—picking on other kids, starting trouble, swaggering around acting tough every day.

Taekyung was friends with them, and though he didn’t personally harass people, he also never stopped them. He only stepped in if it looked like they might get in trouble with a teacher.

Compared to the others in that group, people often said Nam Taekyung seemed kind and friendly to everyone. But even then, there was something about him—they could all feel it. Nam Taekyung was intimidating. He wasn’t a bad guy, but he was someone you didn’t want to cross.

So when Nam Taekyung started approaching Ha Giyeon, everyone assumed he’d join the group too. But to their surprise, Giyeon remained alone. He didn’t join any clique and even seemed to subtly avoid Taekyung.

As if he didn’t want to stand out—he just kept quietly working on his problem books, even when Taekyung’s group got rowdy. He didn’t talk much, but he wasn’t timid either. Something about that quiet, composed presence was strangely cool, and a few students even took the chance to strike up a conversation when Taekyung wasn’t around.

They borrowed supplies, or awkwardly tried to make small talk. And Giyeon—just a bit of conversation with him was enough to make them feel warmth.

Everyone who had ever spoken to him said the same.

“This section’s going to be on the test, so mark it.”

“There’s a band-aid, want one?” fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

“You should change into your gym clothes.”

His tone was gentle, calm. His actions were kind. He didn’t raise his voice or use curse words. He never looked at others with scorn or acted like they were a bother.

From him, there was a sense of kindness you’d expect from an adult. If chaebols had a certain refined air about them, surely that referred to someone like Ha Giyeon. For some reason, people found themselves drawn to him—wanting to talk to him.

But Nam Taekyung’s crew was always hovering around him, so no one dared say much. Whenever someone tried to speak to Giyeon, they’d loudly interrupt or stare them down mockingly.

From Giyeon’s perspective, being called kind or considerate didn’t make sense. He didn’t think he’d done anything to deserve such a label. He didn’t even pay attention to who he spoke with or what they said.

He only lent things or helped out when it was too uncomfortable not to. If someone had something on their face or got hurt, he’d help without thinking—but not because he felt affection or wanted to be nice. He had no interest in earning anyone’s favor.

He’d never guess that people were drawn to him because of these very traits.

“But... doesn’t Taekyung act weird for someone who’s supposed to like Giyeon?”

“You noticed too? I thought it was just me... There’s something off.”

As more people took interest in Giyeon, they couldn’t help but notice—and believe—that Nam Taekyung was quietly tormenting him.

What had been silent suspicions started gaining ground after Giyeon got hurt during soccer because of Taekyung. Whispers began to spread: that maybe Taekyung was bullying him.

“Let’s be real, that wasn’t a good time for a tackle. He wasn’t going for the ball—he was aiming for the leg.”

“Okay, maybe the tackle was a mistake. But he didn’t even help him up, just went back to playing like nothing happened? That’s messed up.”

“He said he didn’t want to play, and Taekyung still made him. I thought that was weird too.”

Things people wouldn’t dare say in front of Nam Taekyung now began to spread, mouth to mouth.

Too fixated on Ha Dohoon, Nam Taekyung hadn’t noticed the shift in mood. As always, he casually greeted Giyeon that morning.

“Giyeon, why are you wearing a mask?”

“...I caught a cold.”

“An allergy and now a cold? That sucks.”

Taekyung told him to rest and get well soon, then—for once—walked off to his own seat. Giyeon felt oddly relieved at how quickly he’d left today. It must’ve been the mask. Maybe because he looked sick, Taekyung figured he should leave him alone. Giyeon was grateful, and returned to his workbook.

Those watching from behind him began murmuring.

“Dude, that’s so obvious. How do you just walk off without asking if he’s okay?”

“Straight-up treated him like he had the plague... Look, he’s sanitizing his hands now.”

“Holy shit... it’s so obvious once you start seeing it.”

Nam Taekyung’s obsession with getting closer to Ha Dohoon by using Ha Giyeon—his jealousy, inferiority complex—it had all been intensifying into something explosive. He was so desperate and unstable that his hostility toward Giyeon was starting to show, even when he thought he was hiding it.

He didn’t realize it, but his jealousy was overwhelming his ability to stay composed. He was acting on impulse, and it showed.

Day by day, Nam Taekyung compared himself to Ha Giyeon—resenting and envying him. Any remaining self-control had been exhausted by Giyeon’s cold, unwavering rejection. He was even considering forcing Giyeon to let him come over—anything to get closer to Ha Dohoon.

Something needed to happen—and fast. But Giyeon never once made a move to invite him over. At this point, Taekyung could feel it—he was being pushed away.

But instead of thinking about why, all he could do was obsess over how to get into Giyeon’s house. And at the same time, he was resentful. Resentful enough to want to hurt him.

“All right, we’ll be practicing for the sports day after school today. Try not to skip—even if it’s just for thirty minutes.”

“Yo, if anyone skips, I’ll seriously kill you.”

“Like anyone’s dumb enough to skip now.”

They made a point to speak loudly, clearly meant to pressure people not to bail.

But they all went quiet when one person raised a hand.

It was Ha Giyeon.

“Um... could I skip practice just for today?”

Normally, he didn’t want to stand out or give anyone a reason to single him out. But today, his body just couldn’t keep up. His head pounded, his vision was spinning—he’d be a hindrance more than anything.

“Hmm... Giyeon, I get that, but it’s kind of rough to have everyone else practicing while you skip, right?”

Nam Taekyung raised his eyebrows in mock concern, but the look in his eyes was practically a threat.

“And even if you’re sick, skipping is kind of lame. I’ve got a headache too, but I’m still doing it.”

“...”

At that, there was nothing left to say. His mind was so foggy he couldn’t think of a response.

While Giyeon stayed silent, Taekyung smirked—savoring the moment like he’d won.

“So no one’s skipping, right?”

“Doesn’t it seem wrong to make him do it when he’s sick?”

Just then, someone spoke up. Taekyung’s eyes instantly sharpened and locked on them. His frown deepened when he saw who it was—the student ranked just behind him academically, someone who didn’t like him due to his own inferiority complex.

This guy rarely spoke up and usually kept to his books. Why now? And why was the whole mood suddenly turning cold?

“Come on, the guy hurt his leg and he’s got a cold too. Shouldn’t we let him sit this one out? And technically, he hurt his leg during soccer.”

Even if it was worded vaguely, Taekyung took it personally: you hurt him.

Others started chiming in, adding their voices to the discussion.

“Look at his face—he really doesn’t look good.”

“If he practices like that, he’s just going to get hurt worse.”

“He hurt his leg and just got discharged today. Let’s cut him some slack.”

The murmuring grew louder, and Taekyung panicked. Suddenly, they were all taking Ha Giyeon’s side—these people who hadn’t given a damn just days ago.

He wanted to insist, to dig his heels in—but Giyeon really did look like he was about to collapse. In the end, he forced a smile and spoke.

“Ah... I didn’t think about Giyeon’s injury. My bad. Okay, Giyeon, take it easy today and join us again when you’re feeling better.”

If Giyeon fainted during practice, it would cause him more trouble. So Taekyung clenched his jaw and pretended to smile.

***

After second period, during the break.

Ha Giyeon could no longer endure the dizziness, and stood up to head to the nurse’s office. Maybe the cold medicine from the morning hadn’t worked, or it had already worn off—but either way, his head felt like it was floating.

Worried he might be late for the next class, he stopped by the teachers’ office first to inform the subject teacher.

“Oh my god... Giyeon, why don’t you just take the whole period to rest? You look awful.”

The teacher, visibly shocked at his appearance, told him to go straight to the nurse’s office and bring a pass afterward. Giyeon left the office and staggered down the hall, making sure to pull his mask tighter.

He turned at the end of the hallway and was about to head down the stairs—when someone grabbed his wrist.

“Hold on, Ha Giyeon.”