By Zephyria 
Wоо-уeon’s first lovе wаs the tutor whо taught him English. Не wаs fоur уеars oldеr, his gаzе was two sрans higher, and his fingеrs werе morе than а joint lоngеr. Тhe first meеting with him—largе, straight, and maturе—remained dеeply еtchеd in Wоo-yeon’s heаrt even aftеr а lоng timе hаd passеd.
‘His nаmе is… Seon Wоо-yeon?’
It was thе first time Wоо-yeоn rеаlizеd а voiсе cоuld be so tender. That sоmeonе could smеll good without wеaring рerfume, thаt Еnglish pronunсiation didn’t hаve tо bе greаsу, that thе hаnd holding а реn could bе nеat, аnd thаt а sitting рosture could be so upright.
‘What a pretty name.’
The soft, steady voice wrapped around his ears. He had simply asked for his name, yet it sounded as sweet as a song. The gentle term of endearment that followed was no different.
‘I look forward to working with you, Yeon-ah.’
He was different from the peers Woo-yeon usually saw. Unlike those clumped together by childish bravado and self-display, he was moderately thoughtful and moderately considerate. When the shy Woo-yeon would maintain a vow of silence without saying a word, the teacher would wait endlessly with a kind smile.
That was why. That was why Woo-yeon couldn’t correct him that his name was ‘Seon Woo-yeon’ and not ‘Seonwoo Yeon.’ To the sixteen-year-old boy, being called ‘Yeon-ah’ was incredibly fluttering.
‘…Teacher, are you an Alpha?’
The day Woo-yeon first asked that, the other man looked back at him with a calm gaze. He asked back softly in that same affectionate voice.
‘Why, do I seem like an Alpha?’
It was something Woo-yeon couldn’t bring himself to affirm. Woo-yeon had grown up under an Alpha mother, received education from an Alpha tutor, and was bullied by Alpha friends. Alpha, Alpha, Alpha. In an environment filled entirely with Alphas, he had learned what an Alpha was even though he hadn’t undergone manifestation.
‘…No.’
Therefore, there was no way such a gentle person could be an Alpha. The Alphas Woo-yeon knew were scary, overbearing, and a species that cared only for themselves.
‘You don’t seem like an Alpha.’
His rattling heart flung its doors wide open. The slight curve of the teacher’s lips as he smiled was etched into Woo-yeon’s eyes. It was a smile as bright as a flower in a radiant spring season.
From that day on, Woo-yeon looked forward to his tutoring sessions every single day. Three times a week, two hours per session. The total of roughly six hours of English tutoring was like a sweet rain to a life struck by drought. When he spread out his English workbooks and notebooks and waited for the teacher, he felt the illusion that the whole world was on his side.
‘Hey, pig.’
But that didn’t mean the famine he suffered was resolved. Around that time, Woo-yeon was obese enough to be advised to diet, making him an easy target for boys going through the height of puberty. Because he wore thick glasses that hid his expressions and had a prickly personality to boot, the level of harassment increased day by day.
‘Fuck, ignoring me again?’
He was the leader of the group that always bullied Woo-yeon. He was also one of the Alphas Woo-yeon utterly loathed. Chuckling as he looked down at Woo-yeon, the boy tapped his head with a finger.
‘Answer me. Huh?’
Woo-yeon silently pulled out his phone. Just then, a text from the teacher had arrived. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a welcome message.
‘Wow, look at this bastard playing dumb.’
The message said that since today was a festival day, tutoring would be difficult. He asked if the lesson could be postponed, and the text was clearly filled with apology. Just as Woo-yeon was about to reply, pushing aside his disappointment, the phone was snatched from his hand.
‘Let’s see… Yeon-ah, Teacher can’t today because of the festival… What’s this, Yeon-i?’
His face flushed instantly. It wasn’t because of the term ‘pig’ he always heard. It was because the emotion contained in the call ‘Yeon-ah’ felt as if it were being filthily tarnished.
‘Yeon-i, my ass. You’re just a fucking pig.’
For the first time since being bullied, Woo-yeon glared at him. He usually ignored them or avoided the situation, but this time he couldn’t stand it. Seeing Woo-yeon like this, the boy let out a scoff of disbelief.
‘Look at this, he’s actually glaring.’
He didn’t like the way the boy toyed with the phone. He also mocked him, scrolling through the texts and laughing at each one.
‘…Give me back my phone.’
‘What?’
‘I said give it back.’
‘Hey, who said I was stealing it? I’m just taking a look…’
Before he could say anything more, Woo-yeon jerked his body up. The problem was that the startled boy reflexively pushed Woo-yeon away. Thud! Falling along with a desk, Woo-yeon tumbled helplessly onto the floor.
‘…’
The glasses he was wearing flew far away. Those who had been pretending not to notice now looked at them. Woo-yeon bit his lower lip at the surging sense of shame. Looking down at the fallen Woo-yeon with a flustered face, the boy irritably threw the phone.
‘Ah, how annoying.’
The phone, leaving the boy’s hand, was miserably shattered. The cracked screen was just like Woo-yeon’s mood. As if that weren’t enough, the boy even kicked the broken phone with his slipper.
‘Your family is rich, and you’re making a fuss over a piece of junk like this…’
His memory was blurry after that. When he came to, he was sitting in the back of the faculty office with the boy, whose face was swollen. Before long, his mother was called in, and the teacher hovered anxiously while showing her the broken phone.
‘I’ll let him leave early today.’
As always, everything was solved with money. His mother, who had nothing but money, left the faculty office after even receiving an apology from the teacher. She didn’t even look at Woo-yeon, nor did she ask why it happened. She simply checked the time repeatedly and uttered a single sentence.
‘I don’t have time to drive you, so take a taxi. This should be enough for the fare, right?’
The bundle of bills in his hand was utterly devoid of sincerity. It was enough for more than ten taxi rides, but he didn’t even think of taking it and cast his eyes down. To him, who bowed his head in silence, another indifferent option was given.
‘Or should I call Driver Yoon?’
He didn’t shed tears. His eyes stung, but he knew exactly what would be said if he cried here. Things like “don’t cry recklessly,” “think of our reputation,” or just a sigh.
‘And your glasses…’
In the end, Woo-yeon took a taxi home. He’d rather have that than ride in the car of the robot-like Driver Yoon. The already broken glasses were worse than not wearing any at all, so he gave the taxi driver all the money he had and got out of the car.
‘…’
Entering an empty house always accompanies an unimaginable loneliness. The house, unnecessarily vast, was so quiet that one could hear the sound of an ant crawling. In a surreal space where time seemed to have stopped, Woo-yeon collapsed powerlessly in a corner of the living room.
It was a wretched feeling. He couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but he just felt miserable. The shattered phone, the mother who ignored it, and the boy he would have to face again tomorrow. It was all the same.
He went back to his room in a daze and burrowed into his bed. The cold blanket provided no comfort to Woo-yeon. Since even the tutoring was canceled today, he would remain alone until late into the night. He thought it would be better to just become a corpse and disappear without a soul knowing.
Woo-yeon fell asleep a few dozen minutes later. The blanket covering his face was very stifling, but in the end, it didn’t stop his breathing.
When he opened his eyes, the room was dark, and he heard the sound of someone ringing the doorbell.
‘There’s no one who would come…’
Nothing came to mind. In a neighborhood with such grand houses, even solicitors were intimidated and didn’t approach. He thought they would leave soon, but the loud ringing of the doorbell showed no sign of stopping.
‘…Who is it?’
Inevitably, Woo-yeon dragged his heavy body outside. When he asked indifferently into the intercom connected to the outside, an unbelievable answer came back.
‘Yeon-ah, it’s Teacher.’
It was the person he had been waiting for. The person whose absence had made his throat tighten with disappointment, thinking he wouldn’t see him today. With trembling hands, Woo-yeon pressed the button and quickly ran to the entrance.
Clank, as soon as the door opened, a familiar figure appeared. His stride across the garden seemed a bit faster than usual. The man, who had approached within reach in the blink of an eye, let out a sigh of relief with a glad smile.
‘Thank goodness, I thought you weren’t home. The festival ended sooner than expected, so I was able to do the lesson today. I called just in case, but you didn’t answer…’
All of this felt surreal. The blurred vision, the slightly pressed hair, and the gaze slowly looking at Woo-yeon.
‘…Did something happen?’
The tears burst at a very trivial question. Even though he knew the man would be flustered, Woo-yeon couldn’t compose the pouring emotions. The sudden crying pushed Woo-yeon relentlessly until his breathing became labored.
‘Teach… hic…’
Woo-yeon sat down on the spot, sobbing like a young child. The other man, flustered, sat down with him and gently patted Woo-yeon’s back. A faint scent of flowers wafted from the close distance.
‘What’s wrong, Yeon-ah. Are you okay?’
Woo-yeon simply wanted him to ask why. It wasn’t an act to get attention, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want it. He didn’t want to ride in the car driven by the robot-like Driver Yoon, and he hated taxis where he had to endure the gaze of others. He just wanted someone to ask if he was okay, and why it happened.
‘Are you hurt? Look at me, okay?’
The more he comforted him, the more various sorrows welled up. The emotions that had been bottled up flowed out like a river that had lost its dam.
Only after a long time, after a long sadness had passed, did Woo-yeon finally lift his head, gasping for air.
‘Are you done crying?’
Before he knew it, Woo-yeon was held in a warm embrace. The face visible right in front of him was still quiet and peaceful. Without any hesitation, the man wiped his face with his sleeve and covered Woo-yeon’s forehead with his large hand.
‘I don’t think you’re sick…’
His heart sank. His face turned red, and his throat felt intensely ticklish. He felt as if his uncontrolled facial muscles would make a strange expression on their own. Thump, thump—his wildly beating heart would not quiet down no matter how hard Woo-yeon tried.
Only then did he think he vaguely understood. The feeling of missing someone, the desire to be together. The sensation of a mood that had sunk to the bottom suddenly floating upward. Woo-yeon vaguely named all of that ‘first love.’