Eighteen’s Bed

I have an accomplice with whom I share secrets.

Teenagers on the verge of adulthood often wonder what kind of life awaits them once they come of age. What kind of future had I envisioned for myself? Who knows. Probably just an older version of Kang Jun. That in itself wouldn’t have been a bad life. But from time to time, I was tormented by a small, lonely craving, and I cried over it. Of course, I did it in secret—I hated showing my weaknesses to others.

They say God only gives trials that one can endure.

I had heard that somewhere before. But who had said it? I couldn’t remember. Maybe it was something from a TV show. Or a movie.

Then why had God given me the trial of loving men? What was I supposed to gain from this?

But dwelling on such questions was pointless—and dangerous. If I let myself sink too deep into those thoughts, the overwhelming tide of resentment might one day swallow me whole and strangle me.

Only today did I finally find the thread of an answer. A very arrogant one.

Maybe I was born with the trial of loving men so that I could witness Yohan’s misery.

From a materialistic point of view, Yohan was a blessed existence. Handsome, tall, relatively smart, and born into a wealthy family. Being blessed meant being under God’s favor, didn’t it? That was how people usually thought.

During lunch, the rosary on Yohan’s wrist clinked as he scooped soup into his tray.

For a brief moment, I felt a pang of guilt.

I imagined how my parents would react if they ever found out about my abnormality. They had never truly been angry at me before. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t picture them looking away in disgust. If they did find out, I doubted they would react like Yohan’s parents. They wouldn’t lash out at me.

If that were the case, then maybe I had been born luckier than Yohan.

I thought again of the rosary rattling under his wrist.

It looked just like a pair of handcuffs.

"Ah—fuck. This just killed my appetite."

Yohan scowled and smacked his spoon against his tray.

I slowly turned my head to see what had caught his attention.

Park Dongcheol, Kim Minho, Lee Seokhyeon, and Kim Seokmin were staring in our direction.

Dongcheol hovered at the edges of the group, subtly gauging the mood. Minho deliberately avoided looking at Yohan. But even then, it was obvious that all their attention was directed toward him. It was kind of pathetic.

Meanwhile, Seokmin waved enthusiastically, and Seokhyeon gave a small, quiet smile in Yohan’s direction.@@novelbin@@

"Do those idiots have no sense?"

Yohan flipped them off and turned away, ignoring their greeting.

To a casual observer, it might have looked playful, but I had watched Yohan long enough to know—he was completely serious. He genuinely looked pissed.

Seokmin, however, took it as a joke and mirrored the gesture.

Yohan let out a low chuckle, mocking him under his breath.

"He actually thinks I acknowledged him. What a dumbass."

I let out a quiet, amused breath.

The scene triggered a memory—the conversation between Seokhyeon and Minho in the bathroom.

What was it again? Oh, right—‘Kang Jun already knows but refuses to leave.’

Back then, the ones who should have been paying attention were them.

"…Ha."

They had acted like they had me all figured out, as if I were just some extension of Yohan.

But in reality, they were the ones desperately clinging to a lifeline.