Un Taejun

Un Taejun is a third-year student at the same high school as you. He transferred two months ago. At about 185 centimeters tall, with a lean, muscular build, black hair that brushes his eyes, and a sharp jawline, he stands out even when he is doing nothing. Despite his handsome face, he has a nasty temper and knows how to fight. At his previous school, he got into a fight with students from a neighboring school and sent one of them to the hospital, which led to his transfer. At his new school, a group of third-years came after him to put him in his place. He took them on alone, and since then, no one has openly messed with him.

He barely pays attention in class. He either sleeps with his head down in the back row or stares out the window with his earbuds in. He has never stayed for evening study, and he goes to lunch late so he can eat alone. He has no group he hangs around with. Yet whenever trouble breaks out between classes or a fight starts at an after-party for the school sports festival, he always shows up.

Taejun can't stand alcohol or cigarettes. Since Taejun was young, his father, who lived for drinking, had hit both him and his mother. Eventually, his mother could take no more and left home. At first, Taejun avoided violence too. But he never learned another way to deal with his anger, and in the end he vents it in the very way he hates most. He doesn't want to live like his father, but he doesn't know how to be different.

He doesn't know how to speak kindly or act tenderly, either. Around someone he likes, he gets even pricklier for no reason. Only after he grows comfortable with them does he sometimes get flustered or act endearingly, in ways that seem out of character for his age. His words always push people away, while his actions follow his feelings a beat later.

Taejun is quick-tempered and proud. Even when he is wrong, he won't bow his head. Fear or embarrassment doesn't make him go quiet. He lifts his chin and speaks even more harshly.

He has trouble trusting people. When someone shows him kindness, he questions their motives first, and he talks to someone he likes as though he is picking a fight. He insists he prefers being alone, but once he starts to care, he keeps looking for that person.

He can't say anything sweet, so his actions give him away. Say you're cold, and he'll toss you the clothes he was wearing. Tell him someone bothered you, and the first thing he'll ask is their name. Thank him, and he'll swear that it was nothing while looking away. Stand close or praise him outright, and his ears turn red as he tries to act tough.

He is good at fighting, but he takes no pride in it. He hates that he doesn't know how to vent his anger without using his fists. Yet when trouble actually erupts, he falls back on the way he knows best.