The Deep End

The Surface Tension

Leehan couldn't escape the feeling that Taesan was watching him. Even in class, even during lunch, the sensation lingered. It was as though the moment Taesan had laid eyes on him, Leehan had become some kind of obsession. He couldn't get away from it. The taunts. The nicknames. The smirks.

It was the same today. As Leehan walked down the hallway between classes, he heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps behind him—slow, deliberate, and too close. His heart skipped. He knew exactly who it was.

"Hey, love," came that smooth, almost dangerous voice, and Leehan's shoulders tensed instantly. He didn't even have to turn around. He knew Taesan was right there, just behind him.

Leehan tried to keep his cool, but there was something unsettling about Taesan's proximity, the way his voice seemed to wrap around him like a coil, tightening with each word. "I told you not to call me that," Leehan said, without looking back. His voice was steady, but the anxiety pooling in his chest told a different story.

Taesan ignored him, catching up easily and falling into step beside him. "What, you don't like it, babe?" His tone was casual, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to call someone 'babe.' The nickname felt too intimate, too personal, and it made Leehan's skin crawl in a way he couldn't quite explain.

"I told you to stop," Leehan repeated, this time turning to face him, his glare cold and firm.

Taesan didn't back down. He never did. Instead, he stopped walking and leaned against the nearby lockers with a relaxed, almost mocking air. "You know," he began, his gaze sweeping over Leehan like he was some sort of puzzle to be solved, "I've been thinking about you. You're a hard one to figure out."

Leehan crossed his arms over his chest, unwilling to show how much Taesan's words affected him. "And why would I care about that?"

Taesan smirked, as if Leehan had just handed him the answer on a silver platter. "You care more than you let on," he said softly, but with such confidence that it made Leehan's stomach churn. "You can't stand the way I mess with you, can you?"

Leehan's heart skipped, and for a second, he struggled to find the words to respond. But Taesan was relentless. "It's cute, though. You try so hard to act like you don't care. Like you're not affected. But I see it. I see the way you flinch when I get too close. The way you can't meet my eyes for too long." He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with amusement. "You're scared, aren't you, Leehan?"

Leehan's jaw clenched. "I'm not scared of you," he said, but there was a slight tremor in his voice that betrayed him. He hated that Taesan had noticed. Hated that it was so obvious.

Taesan stepped closer, closing the distance between them, and Leehan instinctively took a step back, his eyes narrowing.

"Sure, you're not scared," Taesan said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But it's funny, isn't it? How every time I come near you, you get all tense. Almost like you don't want me touching you."

Leehan didn't know how to respond. He couldn't deny it—Taesan was right, and that made him feel exposed, vulnerable in a way he wasn't prepared for. He looked down at the ground, his fists clenched at his sides.

"You think I don't see it?" Taesan continued, his voice lowering, and there was something about it now that sounded more serious. More intense. "You're afraid of something. But what is it, Leehan? What's really scaring you?"

The question hit too close to home. Leehan's mind flashed back to the moment he'd almost drowned years ago, the water swallowing him whole, the panic that gripped his chest as he'd struggled to breathe, to fight against the waves. The thought made his throat tighten, and he couldn't bring himself to look at Taesan, not now, not when he felt so exposed.

"Stop," Leehan said, his voice barely a whisper. He didn't want to talk about it, didn't want anyone—especially Taesan—digging into his past. His heart raced in his chest as he tried to steady his breath, to push down the rising tide of fear.

But Taesan wasn't done. "You're not fooling me, babe," he said softly, his tone almost taunting now. "I see the way you freeze up when you're near water. You can barely stand the sight of it, can you?"

Leehan felt his chest tighten at the mention of water. He fought to keep his expression neutral, to push past the memories threatening to surface. "I'm not afraid of anything," he lied, his voice strained.

Taesan smiled, a slow, knowing grin that made Leehan's stomach churn. "You keep telling yourself that, love. Maybe one day, you'll believe it."

Leehan wanted to argue, wanted to tell him to go away, but something in Taesan's gaze stopped him. There was no mistaking the look in his eyes now—it wasn't just teasing. It was something else, something deeper, more intense. And for a moment, Leehan wondered if Taesan knew more about him than he was letting on. More than anyone else had ever known.

Before Leehan could gather his thoughts, Taesan leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I'm going to get you, Leehan," he said softly, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I'll figure you out. And when I do, I'll make you want me."

Leehan's heart skipped a beat, and he took a step back, his breath catching in his throat. "You're sick," he managed, his voice trembling despite his attempt to stay calm.

But Taesan only grinned. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just getting started."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Leehan standing there, breathless and confused, as the world around him seemed to blur. His mind raced, but one thought echoed louder than the rest: Taesan wasn't finished with him yet. And Leehan had no idea how much deeper this would go.