Eighteen’s Bed

One day, out of nowhere, I became curious about how Han Taesan and Han Junwoo walked home together after school. It was the kind of simple curiosity you’d expect from a jealous guy.

From what I’d seen, Han Junwoo followed quietly behind after Taesan left, so it didn’t seem like the two walked side by side. But still, I couldn’t shake the image of Junwoo, a fully-grown boy, trailing behind Taesan like he couldn’t get enough. Even as I indulged this curiosity, a bad feeling crept over me, like I was toying with Pandora’s box.

A tiny box that should never be opened, containing not just despair but the cruel hope that surpasses it. And yet, knowing all of that, you still can’t resist looking.

“...I must be out of my mind.”

Yeah, I wasn’t thinking straight. But even knowing that, I followed Junwoo after school.

I didn’t get far.

Walking cautiously so Taesan wouldn’t notice, I saw Junwoo staring at Taesan’s back. The peeling paint on old concrete, rusted gates, dusty overpasses, and dented cars surrounded them—a scene filled with cheap and worn-down things. Two boys walking in such a setting: Taesan in the front, Junwoo following behind. And me, watching them from a distance.

Everything about it felt pathetic, idiotic. I turned back.

Later, sitting in my darkened room at my desk, I thought about it and felt satisfied with my decision. Sure, I was curious, but if I had kept going, who knows what I might have seen? It was better this way. Better not to know. I wasn’t foolish enough to open Pandora’s box out of petty curiosity.

Junwoo’s obsession with Taesan grew more intense, and Taesan still seemed to fear him—or perhaps dislike him outright.

No, he definitely hated him. And rightly so. How could he possibly feel anything but hatred toward someone who’d spent his entire transfer period beating him up? Honestly, I felt a bit of smug satisfaction about it. At least I didn’t try to stop Junwoo from hitting Taesan early on. Maybe that was for the best.

I laced my fingers behind my head and looked up at the ceiling. The elegant chandelier above reminded me of how fortunate my life had been. I was born into wealth, loved as an only child, and had never been denied anything I wanted.

“...Damn it.”

I used to think there was nothing I couldn’t achieve. Until I fell in love with Han Junwoo, that is. That bastard had shown me the cruel reality that life doesn’t always go your way. And I was sure Junwoo was learning that bitter truth too.

Ah, the world can be so mercilessly cruel.

At least I had learned to control myself, to hide my feelings. Junwoo, on the other hand, was so consumed by his emotions that he didn’t realize how he looked at Taesan. That sudden, abnormal emotion must have been unsettling for him.

I knew exactly how he felt because I had experienced it too. But while I had endured, Junwoo couldn’t. That’s why, instead of trying to win Taesan over, he acted in ways that only earned him hatred. For me, that worked out just fine.

“Please, just keep being clueless,” I murmured to myself.

Or better yet, let Taesan grow tired and leave. I wasn’t hoping for Junwoo to come to me. If anything, this kind of love terrified me.

I just wanted one thing: for a day to come when I no longer loved Junwoo, and for Junwoo to find love somewhere else. That was all. But of course, the world doesn’t work that way.

To make matters worse, Junwoo switched seats to sit next to Taesan. Of all places, he chose the seat right in front of the teacher’s desk, which was terrible considering his height. He completely blocked the blackboard. Taesan’s original seatmate awkwardly greeted me and Yohan, their expression caught between embarrassment and discomfort.

“Hey, guys.”

Yohan and I exchanged glances and gave a curt nod.

“Haha…”

The awkward laugh lingered, but neither of us responded. We weren’t interested.

Junwoo sat beside Taesan without a word, staying silent the whole time. And I hoped—no, desperately wished—that we could continue like this, frozen in awkward tension, for another year and a half. That someday, this moment would become nothing more than a vague dream we’d forgotten.

Another change came. Junwoo, who had spent his weekends indulging in wild nights, finally stopped that hobby. Or so it seemed. From the bits of gossip I overheard from Yohan’s group, it wasn’t like he’d stopped completely. But at least he wasn’t boasting about his conquests in class anymore, nor was there the lingering scent of debauchery clinging to him.

For me, that was something, at least. I didn’t have to endure the stench of his escapades up close.

“Hey, Junwoo. Not going to mess around again? Like this?”

Hong Huijun swayed his hips suggestively in front of Junwoo, placing his hands near his crotch and moving lewdly. Junwoo’s face twisted at the vulgar display. Glancing quickly in Taesan’s direction, he shouted angrily.

“You bastard! I told you not to do that crap in front of people!”

“Why are you suddenly all shy, huh?”

“If you bring that up again, you’re dead, Hong Huijun.”

“Hey, Junwoo—”

“I said shut the hell up!”

“...Fine, whatever.”

The others were clearly disappointed. Junwoo, with his tall frame and mature aura, had once been the perfect outlet for the curiosity of high school boys brimming with hormones.

The kids in Junwoo and Yohan’s group weren’t novices; they’d all fumbled through clumsy experiences before. Compared to clueless virgins, they were more easily stirred. And with Junwoo no longer sharing his exploits, their attention turned to Yohan. But Yohan only bared his teeth with an expression of pure disgust.

“You filthy perverts.”

“Ah, here he goes again! Yohan’s at it with his crap.”

“He’s just a crazy fanatic. Honestly, what a waste.”

Laughter rippled through the room, loud and fleeting.

Most of the guys in the group had ventured into forbidden territory at least once, but for some reason, Go Yohan hadn’t. While we teased him as a joke, calling him a virgin, no one actually disrespected him. He was Go Yohan, after all. At the same time, Yohan had a lighthearted, carefree attitude about everything, which made his actions seem casual and his words easy to take. People found that either charming or approachable, often saying he didn’t match his intimidating face.

“Hey, shithead, stop glaring at me. You’re gonna make me piss myself.”

“Yeah, that guy’s got such a scary face.”

“Do you assholes have a death wish?”

Yohan scowled, and the group burst into laughter, though it wasn’t even funny. Some guys hanging out in the back of the classroom, who might’ve been his friends—or maybe less than that—joined in with their fake laughs and chatter, adding to the noise. As I sat among them, I stared blankly at my crotch, lost in thought.

“...”

If my memory serves me right, I’ve never gotten hard for a woman. I suppose that makes me gay by default, right from birth. Sure, I’ve felt aroused watching porn with men and women together, but I’ve never once fantasized about a woman’s body while masturbating. The former seemed to be more about the situation’s intensity, while the latter felt like I simply didn’t have any desire.

I’d been to a club once, dragged along by Han Junwoo, but I didn’t even make it past the entrance. I didn’t have a fake ID. Instead, I waited outside until Junwoo came back. Brothels? Disgusting. I couldn’t stand the thought of going to a place like that. It made me wonder why anyone would.

Because of all this, the guys in the group jokingly called me “Abstinent Kang Jun,” but in reality, my abstinence was more or less forced.

I let out a small sigh.

The others were too busy laughing at Yohan’s stories to notice. Taking advantage of the moment, I glanced at Junwoo, who was sitting silently. He was staring at the back of Han Taesan’s head as Taesan studied across the room.

And, as always, I regretted it. Why did I look? Why was I curious? To distract myself, I asked Yohan a pointless question.

“So, are you seriously going to stay celibate until you get married?”

Yohan, who was lounging in his chair like he owned the place, suddenly looked directly at my crotch. His gaze was so persistent that I instinctively crossed my legs to shield myself. What the hell?

“You’re not my wife, so why do you care? What, are you offering?”

“...”

Of course. This jerk always made malicious jokes. The others laughed, and I kicked Yohan in the shin.

That was how my days went—over and over again, the same thing, every day.

*****

When I’m in my room, I’m usually alone, which means I often end up lost in thought, contemplating all sorts of scenarios. Inevitably, those thoughts sometimes drift into strange fantasies.

Today, I found myself wondering what it would have been like if I had fallen in love with Go Yohan instead of Han Junwoo. It seemed like it would’ve been a better situation than this. If I had loved Yohan, I wouldn’t have had to endure the heartbreak caused by Junwoo’s messy relationships with women.

Even so, I’d still be heartbroken.

Neither Han Junwoo nor Go Yohan would ever love me, after all. But at least my heart wouldn’t ache because of Han Taesan.

That train of thought eventually led to feelings of inferiority and anger. In the end, I just wished I could graduate quickly and become a stranger to Han Junwoo.

*****

At some point, I started unconsciously placing my hands under the desk whenever I sat down. This habit really began in my second year of middle school, and the cause was always the same—men.

As I fiddled with the buckle on my pants, I got lost in thought. Should I? Or shouldn’t I? The faint clicking sound of metal tapping against my nails filled the quiet room. Just as I applied pressure with my thumb to undo the buckle, someone knocked on the door.

“Jun! Are you studying?”

“…Ah, no! I mean, yes! I am!”

I nearly had a heart attack. Today was clearly not the day. Mortified, I buried my face in my arms. Damn it.

*****

Lately, Han Junwoo has been getting on my nerves.

Sometimes, when Taesan glanced at me, Junwoo would deliberately strike up a conversation with him. Taesan, caught in the middle, would flick his eyes toward me, his lips parting as if to speak, only to close them again. Then, as if wary of Junwoo’s presence, he’d lower his head and answer in the faintest voice.

“Y-yeah…”

Just like that.

Taesan subtly sought me out more and started calling me “Jun.” Aside from adults, almost no one called me that, so the change was noticeable. He seemed to think he was being careful, but he wasn’t. The worst part was how Junwoo couldn’t hide his discomfort whenever Taesan did anything remotely daring.

“Han Taesan, stop bothering Kang Jun while he’s studying.”

“What?”

“Stop bothering him. Don’t you understand?”

“Oh… uh, y-yeah…”

When Taesan stammered and avoided his gaze, Junwoo immaturely slammed his fist against the desk leg beside him. I pretended not to notice. Annoyingly, clueless Taesan seemed to think no one cared about him calling me “Jun” anymore. He got bold, casually using it as if it were normal.

“Uh, Jun… sorry for bothering you while you’re studying.”

I stiffened, staring at him in disbelief. Was he insane? Junwoo was sitting right there.

Sure enough, Junwoo pounded his fist on the desk again. Damn it.

“Hey! Han Taesan!”

“…Huh?”

The atmosphere turned sour instantly.

“I told you.”

Junwoo’s anger was blatant.

“I told you not to call him ‘Jun,’ didn’t I?”

“…W-well…”

“Call him Kang Jun. That’s his name—Kang Jun.”

His gaze turned sharp, almost predatory, as he looked at me. I hated that look and instinctively lowered my head. At that moment, Go Yohan, seated beside me, casually draped his arm over my shoulder. His low, distinctive voice murmured near my ear.

“Han Junwoo, if you keep this up, you’re really gonna screw yourself over.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m saying you’ll regret it.”

Yohan smirked, and I felt a flicker of irritation. For one reason only.

“Han Junwoo, why don’t you care when Yohan calls me ‘Jun’?”

“Well, that’s because you two are close.”

I let out an incredulous laugh.

“Right. Yohan and I are so damn close. Sure.”

Junwoo must not have realized that Yohan and I had never once hung out alone. Not even once. Comments like these made me painfully aware of how I was slowly, quietly wasting away.

My dying soul yearned for a new life, but breaking free from someone as intoxicating as Junwoo was far too difficult. So I ignored the whispers of my soul, covering my ears, and searched for salvation elsewhere.

That salvation often came in the form of helping the pitiful Taesan. It was my way of saying to the universe, “See how good I am? Please grant my wish.”

I declared my acts of kindness toward someone I disliked. But since I had no religion and my so-called altruism was tinged with selfish motives, maybe the heavens didn’t listen. Or perhaps, they found me despicable instead.

*****

Since Han Junwoo started trailing after Han Taesan, I naturally ended up spending more time with Go Yohan. In a way, it was as if Junwoo himself was pushing me to grow closer to Yohan.

I had other friends outside of Junwoo and Yohan, but most of them were the studious type, constantly buried in their workbooks. Meanwhile, Yohan’s group consisted of kids who either slept through the school day or vanished during lunch, so it was inevitable that Yohan and I stuck together more often.

Lately, as if playing an unintentional martyr, I found myself staring at Yohan’s rosary and pressing my lips together.

It was cleaning time.

Yohan was hiding between the columns, either avoiding the wind pouring in through the open windows or trying to dodge the chore altogether. His rosary dangled loosely from his wrist. I must have been in some sort of daze because, for some reason, I approached him and lightly tapped his shoulder.

“Hey, Yohan. Do you think God actually answers prayers?”

Still hunched over, Yohan responded absentmindedly.

“Why don’t you try praying and find out?”

“Have you ever prayed for something?”

“Of course. I pray every night.”

“What do you pray for?”

“Peace and well-being? Success? My future and love?”

“That’s… not like you at all.”

“What does ‘like me’ even mean?”

Yohan turned to look at me seriously for a moment, then broke into a bright smile.

“Did that make me sound cool?”

“No.”

“Your taste sucks. If that’s not cool, your brain’s a rock.”

Yohan buttoned up his school uniform, fastening each loose button. The rosary around his wrist swayed as the small cross swung back and forth.

“So, has your prayer been answered?”

“No, not yet.”

With that, Yohan seemed too tired to continue the conversation and sank down near the classroom window. I hesitated, unsure of what to do, then eventually sat beside him.

As the cold air began creeping in, I found my gaze drifting toward the empty seats of Han Junwoo and Han Taesan. Meanwhile, the broom Yohan had propped up fell to the wooden floor with a dull thud.

“Aren’t you going to pick that up?”

“Too much effort.”

I sat with my knees pulled together, staring at the fallen broom before giving Yohan a pointed look. Our eyes met, and I flinched, quickly turning away. Pretending nothing had happened, I got up and picked up the broom, sweeping the floor in his place.

“You’re such a good guy, Jun.”@@novelbin@@

“The teacher said to do it, so I am.”

“Then you’ll do mine too, right?”

I stopped sweeping and glared at him. Yohan shrugged with a playful grin.

“If you’re such a good guy, you should happily help others too.”

“…”

He was right. That’s who I was. In front of my parents, I was the obedient son; in front of my teachers, the reliable student; and in front of my classmates, a decent guy. I’d lived my whole life like that, so it was easy to act like Junwoo’s best friend.

I didn’t wish for Junwoo to be mine, nor did I hope he would understand my feelings. All I wanted was for my emotions to disappear, as fleeting as morning frost melting away.

I swept the floor with a tinge of irritation.

Maybe I should stop praying. It’s not like it’s going to work anyway. Was my wish too selfish? It wasn’t even that big of an ask.

After placing the broom back into the cleaning supply cabinet, I shut the door. My hands smelled faintly of damp wood and dust.

The problem was, I understood reality too well. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to dream a little.