Eighteen’s Bed

Jun. My last name is Kang, and my first name is Jun, but everyone calls me Kang Jun. It rolls off the tongue better than just Jun, doesn’t it? The first person to suggest that was Han Junwoo, back when we ended up in the same class in our first year of high school. Ever since then, I’ve been “Kang Jun.” There are a few who still call me Jun, but I’ll save that story for another time.

Han Junwoo, who was in my class for the first time in our first year, was noticeably different from me. From his height to his skin tone, his appearance was completely opposite to mine. Even academically, we were on opposite ends—he comfortably sat near the bottom of the school rankings.

Does that mean I looked down on him as soon as I saw him? Normally, I believe everyone has their rightful place in a social hierarchy, so yes, that’s exactly what I would have done. But strangely, I couldn’t treat Han Junwoo that way. When I first saw him, his light brown eyes bore down on me with a force that couldn’t be ignored.

Han Junwoo had a unique scent. I couldn’t quite identify what it was, but I was captivated by his faint, colorless fragrance. Like a fish drawn to bait, I unconsciously struck up a conversation with him.

I often searched for similarities between Han Junwoo and myself. Things like how we both were part of the popular crowd at school or how we came from affluent families—surface-level traits like that.

For example, our school was situated between two starkly different areas: one wealthy and the other impoverished.

Luckily, I was from the wealthy side. Not just any wealthy neighborhood, but the priciest area in town. Born an only child to doting parents, I grew up with every imaginable privilege. On top of that, my parents held significant social power, which was like a golden treasure placed in my tiny newborn hands. It’s no wonder I grew up a little cunning.

For these reasons, our school was a strange mix of kids from rich and poor families, all sharing the same classrooms. Han Junwoo belonged to the rich group. Once I learned that, I couldn’t contain my excitement. With that justification in mind, I approached him without hesitation, and we naturally became friends.

Just as I excelled academically, Han Junwoo excelled at fighting. He quickly attracted the toughest kids in school, and before a month had passed, he was at the top of Donggwan’s hierarchy. That’s how Han Junwoo became the most well-known boy in East Wing.

*****

The tightly shut door before me stayed closed for a long time, until the moment I reached to rub my aching stomach. Then, it finally opened. Through the gap, I caught a glimpse of Han Junwoo’s flushed skin. His red hand released the door, and it swung shut again, hiding him. Before the door could fully close, I slipped inside. It was desperate.

Inside the room, Han Junwoo was already sitting on the bed. He was wearing nothing but tight underwear, with a cigarette in his mouth that he was gnawing on absentmindedly.

“Fuck. My dad’s on my ass again. Answer if he calls my phone and tell him we were studying together.”

He flicked the lighter open and closed as he spoke. He didn’t light the cigarette, but his face showed all the languidness of someone who’d just finished having sex. My stomach felt tight and raw, so I rubbed it as I approached him. Snatching the bitten cigarette from his mouth, I snapped at him in an irritated tone.

“Why should I?”

“Because we’re friends.”

Right. Friends. The way he stretched out the word friends always struck me as oddly sad. It felt like my chest was being torn to shreds. But I kept my expression shamelessly calm.

“Just know I’ll pay off my debt to you one way or another.”

“Thanks.”

The room reeked of the heavy scent of night jasmine and the subtle, clean smell unique to women. Honestly, the only reason I’d learned to identify such smells was because of Han Junwoo.

I’d heard from his middle school classmates that he’d been sleeping with girls since his third year of middle school. According to the rumors, he’d lost his virginity in the school bathroom with a classmate. That says it all.

Apparently, even back then, he looked like he was in his twenties. Han Junwoo’s mature appearance wasn’t typical of a high schooler. Most people who saw him for the first time thought he was an adult. His bold, defined features gave him a brooding, sophisticated aura.

Once he entered high school, he openly started frequenting clubs whenever he felt bored. He had plenty of money, and somehow, he got his hands on an ID with an adult birth year. He confidently flashed it as if it were his own, hooked up with attractive women, and made one-night stands his regular pastime. His good looks played a major role in hiding his hedonistic lifestyle.

Individually, his eyes, nose, and mouth weren’t particularly remarkable. But when put together, they formed an inexplicably striking face. His aura was so refined that no one could believe he was just a high schooler; most assumed he was at least twenty-five.@@novelbin@@

I looked around as if searching for something, though it was meaningless. The heavy atmosphere lingering in the aftermath of his escapade made me feel nauseous.

“Where’s Go Yohan?”

“He went home.”

“…”

“That bastard is fucking crazy, no matter how I look at it. What a joke.”

Han Junwoo rested his chin on his hand and laughed. I frowned.

Go Yohan was the second person I hated most.

He only became close with Han Junwoo in our second year of high school. As much as I hated to admit it, they spent so much time together that it made sense to call them friends. When Han Junwoo was the most famous boy in Donggwan, Go Yohan had his own reputation in Seogwan.

Still, we rarely crossed paths. The only times I saw him were in the cafeteria, a building shared by both Donggwan and Seogwan students.

Once, while in the cafeteria, someone nudged my shoulder with their elbow and whispered, “That’s Go Yohan.”

Curious, I stood on my tiptoes to take a look. Among the sea of black-haired students, a tall, sharp-looking boy stood out. I knew immediately it was him.

“He looks like he has a nasty personality.”

When I said that, one of Han Junwoo’s lackeys replied, “Yeah, a bit. They say he’s super self-centered.”

I smirked at the comment but only gave a half-hearted nod in response.

As much as I hated to admit it, I could understand why he ended up in a rivalry with Han Junwoo. That only made me dislike him more, but for some reason, I couldn’t look away.

A dazzling gloom—that was my first impression of Go Yohan.

By chance, our eyes met. It was odd that he noticed my gaze, considering how many eyes must have been on him in the crowded cafeteria. His long eyes and thin pupils made a striking impression. Reflexively, I flinched as if hit by a rock.

‘What are you looking at?’

He must’ve read my lips, because he narrowed one eye at me. Honestly, I was a bit intimidated, so I pretended it was nothing and turned away. Then, loud enough for the guy next to me to hear, I said:

“He looks like a snake.”

After that, Go Yohan and I often made eye contact, but we always ignored each other. Whenever our gazes met, he would lower his head to avoid my eyes, only to look up again and lock eyes with me. Nine times out of ten, he was the one to avoid first, but I found myself following his lead once in a while. I lost count after the eighteenth time.

*****

As if by some miracle, Han Junwoo and I ended up in the same class again in our second year. While secretly thrilled about this continued connection, I came across a familiar face. It was truly surprising—and utterly maddening. For the first time, I got a proper look at the face behind the infamous reputation: Go Yohan.

It was Go Yohan who spoke to me first.

“Hey. Wanna eat together?”

Damn it.

And just as everyone had anticipated, the two of them became friends. Han Junwoo was a man who reveled in his own brilliance, and Go Yohan, who was subtly regarded as his rival, met Han Junwoo’s standards. He was masculine, successful among his peers, and well-regarded. Their friendship was inevitable.

In class, the topic often arose: if Han Junwoo and Go Yohan clashed, who would win? From my perspective, the two would never actually fight. While Han Junwoo and I were opposites on the surface, Han Junwoo and Go Yohan were remarkably similar.

Yet, there was one stark difference between them.

Go Yohan had a strange, almost straight-laced side to him. Despite his ears being pierced to the point of looking ragged, he sometimes acted like a goody-two-shoes.

For example, when Han Junwoo was aroused, he’d simply pick a girl he liked and spend the night with her. When people asked about his nightly escapades, he proudly recounted his steamy early morning adventures. In contrast, Go Yohan laughed off the typical horny remarks about wanting to grope someone’s chest. Sometimes, he’d mock them outright by grabbing the chest of the chubby guy sitting next to him, squeezing hard enough to make the poor victim scream.

“This pig has bigger tits than most girls. Just grope him instead. And hey, you look terrible. Wear a bra or something, would you? Stop parading those around—it’s offensive.”

Even his crude remarks were laced with sarcasm.

Yet, when the opportunity arose, Go Yohan would say something baffling like, “My purity is reserved for the Lord of my future.” That was the difference.

Han Junwoo once offered to make him a fake ID—something he’d never offered me—but Go Yohan dismissed it as a useless idea and refused.

Han Junwoo’s friends found Go Yohan’s eccentricities entertaining, but I didn’t. The reason was simple: he was close to Han Junwoo. And they wandered around like best friends. That alone was enough for me to hate him. It was a simmering jealousy.

Still, I managed to get along with Go Yohan. One of my strengths was hiding my feelings, no matter the situation. Besides, he was close to Han Junwoo. Yes, everything in my social life revolved around Han Junwoo.

To be honest, there were more days when I felt frustrated with myself for being like this than there were days I thought about Han Junwoo. I often felt like a complete idiot. But even so, I stayed the same.

While Han Junwoo threw a few casual words at me before heading into the bathroom to shower, I sat in thought. A few minutes later, his phone started ringing. Fresh from the shower, Han Junwoo picked it up from the bed and tossed it to me. I caught it, and on the other end, I heard his father’s voice.

Clearing my throat, I answered. Why was I even trying to sound composed?

“Yes, this is Jun speaking.”

“Jun? Are you with Junwoo right now?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Ah, I see. I was worried for nothing. I thought Junwoo might be out messing around again. You’ve got such a nice voice, Jun.”

“Thank you.”

“No, really. How are you doing?”

“I’m doing well, thank you. And you?”

“Same here. You speak so elegantly. If only Junwoo talked like you. That boy has no manners. So, you were studying together?”

“Yes. Junwoo must’ve forgotten to call you. He’s been busy preparing for exams.”

“So, you’ve been studying together this whole time?”

“Yes. He’s been with me the entire time.”

“Well, that’s a relief. If he’s with you, I can relax.”

“It’s nothing, really.”

“No, it’s something. If he’s with you, he can’t get into trouble.”

“Really, it’s nothing. I’ll make sure he gets to school safely.”

“Good. Take care of him. Stay friends and don’t fight.”

“Yes, of course. Goodbye.”

Lies flowed effortlessly from my mouth.

After ending the call, I tossed the phone back to Han Junwoo, who muttered a short “Thanks” while getting dressed. Without another word, I turned to leave. Han Junwoo didn’t try to stop me.

“See you later.” That was all he said.

It was to be expected. This was all our relationship amounted to. The vast gap between us was painfully clear. Maybe that’s why I quickened my pace.

On the way back, my throat ached for some reason. I hurried out of the elevator, barely checked the destination on the license plate of the nearest taxi, and climbed in. After giving my address, I pounded on my chest, trying to relieve the tightness.

“Are you okay, kid?” The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror, his tone filled with concern.

Striking my chest again, I replied, “I’m fine. Just some indigestion that won’t go away.”

“I’ve got some medicine. Want some?”

“No, thanks. It’s no use. I’ve already taken some, but it’s still like this.”

I leaned back, pressing my head against the seat.

Everything had fallen apart after I got sick. My entire life was in shambles. Among guys, calling someone a “gay bastard” was both an insult and a joke, a label of fear and ridicule. I’d joined in on that, throwing around those words myself.

Then, in my first year of high school, I realized I liked men. It felt like my life was plummeting off a cliff. All the things I’d said before came back to devour me. But even that seemed insignificant compared to now. I never thought I’d come to miss those hellish days.

Things got even worse in my second year. Liking Han Junwoo, seeing him get closer to Go Yohan, the ever-widening gap between us—and then there was the transfer student. I hated that the most.

The transfer student arrived at the most inconvenient time, right before the midterms of the first semester: Han Taesan.

He’s the person I despise the most.

Han Taesan had unusually dark pupils that seemed to vanish as he said, "Nice to meet you. Please take care of me." At the time, I thought it was just another mundane part of daily life. But starting in early summer, Han Junwoo began to dislike him.

Everyone pitied Han Taesan. They said he was the type to gnash his teeth over trivial matters and drag anyone he disliked to the depths of hell, tearing them apart like a hunting dog. Some even joked that tormenting him was oddly satisfying.

Despite his name (Taesan means "great mountain"), Han Taesan was short. His hair always looked unkempt, as if he hadn’t bothered to dry it properly. If Han Junwoo looked like someone in their mid-twenties, Han Taesan looked like a middle schooler. His uniform was neatly pressed but comically oversized, giving him an awkward, outdated appearance. By the second month, the uniform was so worn and tattered that it looked like a rag.

One day, I realized it.

It was an utterly ordinary day, and yet, the realization hit me like a blow. The problem stemmed from Han Junwoo’s unpleasant sex life. It began when he started calling me to hotels as part of his alibis. Occasionally, I’d run into women leaving his room late at night.

Before I liked Han Junwoo, I only found these late-night requests annoying. Sometimes, I even refused. The faces of the women I bumped into didn’t leave any impression on me; they were just an inconvenience. But then, one day, as if by coincidence, I realized I liked Han Junwoo. And once I acknowledged it, I threw everything aside and stepped into that foul-smelling space. I tortured myself, agonizing over the diverse appearances of the women I saw, wondering if that’s what Han Junwoo liked.

Lately, though, what pushed my feelings into a darker, filthier corner was the nagging realization that two of the women I’d run into over the past month bore an uncanny resemblance to someone else.

Unusually dark pupils, a youthful impression—they looked just like Han Taesan. Yes. I was the only one who realized something had shifted that day.

From then on, I started hating Han Taesan. Just thinking about it made my stomach ache as if it were being torn apart.

I clutched my chest in the rattling taxi. My head drooped like a fool’s, heavy and low, mirroring how I felt inside. I resented Han Junwoo. Why did those women look like Han Taesan? Why does Han Junwoo still torment him?

Han Taesan is a guy. Just like me—a boy of eighteen. A guy even smaller than me, who lately couldn’t even speak without stuttering. And yet, I’m smarter, richer, and better-looking than Han Taesan. Anyone would agree that I’m the one who suits Han Junwoo better. Why? I could have understood it if he liked Go Yohan instead. Even if it disgusted me to death, that would have made more sense.

“Kid, are you okay? Shouldn’t you see a doctor?”

I pressed my lips shut to keep from groaning.

After realizing the women leaving the hotel resembled Han Taesan, I began hiding my hatred for him. I even stood up for him. That was surprising, even to me. Normally, I hated meddling in other people’s business, and I never tried to stop anything Han Junwoo did. But this was for my own sake.

It wasn’t out of concern for Han Taesan. I just hated seeing Han Junwoo direct so much anger at him. Selfishly, I only cared about relieving my own discomfort. I had to divert Han Junwoo’s attention away from Han Taesan, even if just for a moment. That was the only thing that made it easier for me to breathe.

One day, I found Han Junwoo dragging Han Taesan by the collar into an empty classroom. He forced him to kneel and kicked him in the stomach. I intervened.

“Why do you keep bullying him? Just stop already.”

Han Taesan let out a short groan, curling up like a pill bug as I grabbed hold of Han Junwoo. Han Junwoo kicked Han Taesan’s shoulder and said,

“He keeps getting on my nerves.”

“What did Han Taesan ever do to you?”

“Fuck. He just pisses me off!”

Han Junwoo shouted, and I froze. His face flushed red as he glared at me. The tension between us was unbearable until Go Yohan suddenly intervened.

“Hey, come on. Let it go. It’s hard for me to watch.”

“Why do you care?”

Despite his tough appearance, Go Yohan had a habit of speaking in a soft, almost pitiful tone. He frowned, his eyebrows drawn together as if he genuinely felt sorry. The moment Han Junwoo’s attention shifted to him, my lungs finally expanded, releasing the breath I’d been holding.

“Why do you care? This bastard’s the one getting hurt,” Han Junwoo spat.

“Wow, you’re such a lousy friend,” Go Yohan retorted, gesturing at me with his finger swirling near his temple as if calling Junwoo crazy. “You’ve lost it. Idiot.”

Infuriated, Han Junwoo lunged at Go Yohan, who mockingly raised his middle finger and laughed in his face.

The two of them scuffled, and I stood there, biting my lip as I watched Go Yohan flee while Han Junwoo chased him. Turning back, I approached Han Taesan, who lay on the floor, and helped him up by the shoulder.

“Thanks…”

Han Taesan’s face was swollen from the beating, yet he thanked me, tugging lightly at my sleeve. The sheer disgust I felt was overwhelming. It was so bad that on my way home, I stuffed the clothes he’d touched into the nearest trash can.

As I replayed those grimy memories in my head, the taxi arrived in front of my house. The driver still seemed concerned as he glanced at me. As I stepped out, I said,

“It was just some chest pain. Sorry for worrying you.”

“You should really see a doctor. Chronic indigestion isn’t something to take lightly.”

“I will.”

I replied to his unnecessary concern, though I never planned to visit a hospital.

When I got to school, I greeted Han Junwoo with a rational, composed demeanor. I’m Kang Jun, after all—always logical, always calm.

Crying and dying for love is the ugliest thing a person can do. It’s despicable.

When I see men and women drunkenly making fools of themselves in love, I always vow never to end up like that. I don’t want to expose my vulnerabilities to anyone. Especially not to Han Junwoo.

So, my face remains ever composed and shameless.