Eighteen’s Bed

I’m not sure whether it was divine intervention or just the ointment doing its job, but when I woke up in the morning, my swollen cheek had gone down significantly. There was still a faint puffiness, with a bluish tinge here and there, but it was the kind of injury people could dismiss with, “Looks like you bumped into something lightly.” It was manageable.

With a lighter heart, I went to school. However, the atmosphere in the classroom was anything but cheerful—it was heavy, oppressive. The reason? Han Junwoo.

Instinctively, I scanned the room for Han Taesan. He barely made it on time, arriving just before the first period started, narrowly avoiding being late.

“…”

The moment I saw his face, I was stunned to the point that I forgot to blink. I had thought, half-jokingly, that it would serve him right if he’d gotten hit too—but seeing him now, I felt nothing but guilt. His face was a wreck. His lips were split, and one of his eyes was swollen almost as badly as my cheek had been. A suffocating sense of remorse weighed down on me. I was disgusted with myself for entertaining such childish thoughts.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…”

Han Taesan entered the classroom hesitantly, his eyes darting nervously. Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, his gaze met mine. He stared at me for a long moment before abruptly freezing, his expression locking into a startled grimace. He turned his head sharply and shuffled to his seat, avoiding me entirely.

“…What the hell.”

That strange reaction left me with a weird feeling. I glanced around instinctively, and the reason became immediately clear. Han Junwoo was glaring at me like he wanted to kill me.

“Ah, damn it.”

I should’ve just stayed home. Regret flooded in.

After that, Han Taesan, who had once been eager to act friendly toward me, avoided speaking to me during breaks. At lunchtime, he disappeared with Han Junwoo to God knows where.

Left alone, I ended up eating lunch with Go Yohan. A part of me itched to go out and find them, but I knew I wouldn’t actually do it. I hated to admit it, but I was too afraid of what I might see if I did.

Surely, Han Junwoo wouldn’t be hitting him again... Right? It wasn’t really my business to worry about, but seeing Taesan’s battered face made it impossible not to.

Meanwhile, Go Yohan, as carefree as ever, kept up his usual banter, oblivious to the storm in my head.

“See? I told you it was tense as hell in there. I almost choked on my own nerves.”

“You seemed fine eating ice cream yesterday.”

“Give me some credit. I sucked it up like a pro.”

Go Yohan winked and laughed.

“I mean, ice cream’s meant to be sucked.”

Annoyed, I gave his calf a light smack with my foot as he laughed at his own joke. He rubbed his chin, looking oddly sheepish—or so it seemed. That couldn’t be right.

*****

Life is unpredictable. From the very first time we met, I had no intention of getting close to Go Yohan. In fact, I didn’t even like him. And yet, here we were, and he was the person I felt closest to now.

His lighthearted demeanor and flippant tone had a way of preventing me from getting too caught up in the weight of things.

In the past, I used to hate those very qualities about him, dismissing him as shallow and unserious. But now, I relied on that levity to keep myself grounded. If Han Junwoo and I had remained close, I wouldn’t have realized just how much I needed Go Yohan’s presence.

After that day, Han Junwoo began distancing himself from the group. Sometimes, he’d vanish with Han Taesan, and other times, he’d take a few others with him. There were even moments when some of them flat-out refused to go, shaking their heads with uneasy expressions.

One such instance involved Park Dongchul. I ran into him as he was climbing over a fence, apparently trying to avoid a teacher. He told me, with a mixture of amusement and unease, that Han Junwoo had been ordering the others to hit Han Taesan, one punch at a time. My face twisted in disbelief, and Dongchul, sensing my reaction, quickly added that he’d been avoiding the group lately because of it. He then mentioned he was on his way to a PC café with Choi Juhwan and asked me not to misunderstand. With that, he left.

Choi Juhwan had been close to Han Junwoo during our first year, but after ending up in a different class, they’d drifted apart.

At lunchtime, Go Yohan and I went to the schoolyard and bought ice cream from the store. The cold sweetness spread across my tongue, momentarily soothing me. But beneath that fleeting relief, a bitter knot of unease tightened in my chest. Still, I held my ground, determined not to let it show.

“Is that good?”

“Wanna try?”

Go Yohan, who was munching on his own brightly colored ice cream, eyed mine hungrily. Half-teasing, I brought my ice cream—sticky with my saliva—close to his mouth. Without hesitation, he smirked, lifted one corner of his lip, and took a big bite.

“Hey! Did you seriously eat that?”

“You told me to.”

“That’s disgusting… And why’d you take such a huge bite?”

“It was just one bite.”

Grinning, Go Yohan shrugged one shoulder. It was such a peaceful moment. In contrast to my turmoil, the crisp autumn weather was clear and calm.

Where were Han Junwoo and Han Taesan now? A few places came to mind, but I didn’t go looking. Maybe I was afraid of what I might find if I did.

I tried my best not to think about Han Junwoo. But the harder I tried, the more I realized just how much space he occupied in my mind.

How long would it take to stop loving someone like him? How much effort would it require? I didn’t know. It felt like being lost in a vast, endless desert, not just sad and suffocating, but terrifying and unbearable.

Sometimes, I retreated. Like Ostensibly Blue struggling to see the footprints left in front of it, I found myself stepping back to make sense of it all. When it became too overwhelming, I’d occasionally talk with Go Yohan. And, well, that was that.

Suddenly, I asked him,
“Hey, Go Yohan.”

“What?”@@novelbin@@

“...Do you think flowers will ever bloom in a barren desert?”

It was such an emotional question that I felt embarrassed the moment the words left my mouth. I scratched my head awkwardly, but Go Yohan didn’t mock me.

“They will.”

“...”

“They have to. Life’s shitty enough as it is.”

Hearing those words from Go Yohan—a person I never thought capable of saying something like that—made me realize just how futile my desperate hope was. How much time would it take for me to give up on these meaningless feelings?

“...Yeah. Life’s shitty.”

Han Junwoo. That useless bastard. Why do you seem so intent on killing the loyal, tail-wagging dog I become every time I see you? Han Junwoo, who seemed to have abandoned all the basic promises a teenager should uphold, now came and went from school as he pleased. And always, by his side, was Han Taesan.

As the situation grew increasingly suspicious, the classroom buzzed with a mix of unease and intrigue. It became clear—Han Junwoo’s violence was escalating. And so was the fog of resentment toward him, slowly spreading throughout the class. None of it felt good.

So, when I saw Han Junwoo dragging Han Taesan by the wrist down the hallway, I stopped in my tracks. Watching them, I alternated between their faces before finally speaking.

“Your dad’s worried about you.”

It wasn’t an apology or flattery—it was a lie. That was the extent of my pride. But since Han Junwoo wasn’t close to his father, he probably wouldn’t even know it was a lie. And even if he did, I could always argue that, at this rate, his dad would eventually have plenty to worry about.

I always made sure to leave myself an escape route.

“If someone’s going to take the hit, make sure it’s just you. What did Han Taesan ever do?”

“Move.”

The moment I mentioned Han Taesan’s name, Han Junwoo’s gaze locked onto me, glaring daggers. My chest felt like it was about to burst from the weight of it. I hated him. And yet, pitiful and pathetic Han Taesan stood glued to his side, his tear-filled eyes looking at me like he might cry at any moment.

“Unless you want to get your ass kicked again like last time, move.”

“J-Junwoo, please,” Han Taesan stammered, his voice trembling as he called out to him. Only then did Han Junwoo stop speaking. His gaze was fixed solely on Han Taesan now. All I could see was the back of his head as he turned away from me.

“L-like I said, your dad’s worried—”

“...”

Han Taesan, on the verge of tears, clung to Han Junwoo, trying to stop him. Watching that pitiful scene unfold was unbearable. It was so excruciating that I closed my eyes.

After a moment, Han Junwoo looked at Han Taesan, then turned and walked back into the classroom. For the rest of the day, he stayed there—just like a few weeks ago.

*****

The long-anticipated day of the field trip had arrived. A bus had been rented to take us to some kind of exhibition. While a few kids grumbled about dragging high school sophomores away from their studies, most were excited at the chance to escape school for even a single day.

There was no need to pack snacks, as we’d return shortly after. The teachers gave only a few half-hearted warnings before letting us go.

It wasn’t like we were middle schoolers anymore. There was no giddy excitement keeping us up at night. I thought of it as just another day—leave without a bag, come back without a bag. But I had no idea that today would be the day my bottled-up frustration finally exploded. I’d expected it to come eventually, but not so suddenly.

As usual, I was seated next to Han Junwoo whenever we weren’t in the classroom. After all, I was his closest friend. I hadn’t even considered where Go Yohan would sit since I’d never taken a bus with him before.

At first, I was wary of Go Yohan, afraid he might take the seat closest to Han Junwoo. Thinking back on it now, it was pathetic. Neither I nor Go Yohan would end up in that spot.

When we arrived, I found our bus parked in the schoolyard and climbed aboard to find our seats. The back five seats were already claimed by a group of noisy classmates, including Park Dongchul, who waved at me and then hesitated before pointing toward Han Junwoo’s seat.

“Kang Jun! There’s a seat here!”

“…Oh, right.”

Of course. I’d always been the one sitting next to him. But today, I hesitated as I approached Han Junwoo’s seat. I sighed in relief when I saw that the seat next to him was still empty. Swallowing hard, I felt a twinge of determination.

It was my spot. My pride—the one thing I stubbornly clung to—compelled me to sit there, even after being hit by Han Junwoo because of Han Taesan.

I nervously touched the top of the seat for a moment, glanced around the bus, and then quietly asked,
“Hey… This seat…”

“It’s not yours. Go sit somewhere else.”

Before I could finish, Han Junwoo cut me off and kept his gaze fixed on the bus entrance. Following his line of sight, I saw Han Taesan timidly making his way toward us. I clenched my fists and swallowed my words.

“…Fine. Whatever.”

I tried to sound indifferent, though my heart felt like it had been shredded to pieces.

I quickly left the seat and looked around the bus. I found an empty spot near Go Yohan’s group, right in front of where he was sitting. Relieved, I rushed over, plopped into the seat, and spoke without waiting for a response.

“Hey, Go Yohan. Sit with me.”

There was no answer. When I looked closer, I realized he was already asleep. He always seemed to doze off in the mornings, and today was no exception. His head rested against the window, bouncing gently with every bump in the road. Shaking my head at his ridiculous sleeping posture, I shoved my wallet between his head and the window and sat down next to him. I leaned back into the uncomfortable seat.

Across the aisle, I caught a glimpse of dark brown hair. It was Han Junwoo’s—he was taller than most of our classmates, making him easy to spot. Though I couldn’t see clearly, I was certain that Han Taesan was sitting next to him. Han Junwoo must’ve grabbed him as he walked by, probably pulling his arm in that quick, decisive way of his.

“...Idiots.”

Han Taesan. Once again, I found myself resenting him. Why couldn’t that fool break away from Han Junwoo? How long would he continue living like a helpless idiot, relying on others for everything? And how long would I keep helping him?

“Seriously… Fuck this.”

Would I have to keep watching those two fools together? And when I finally realized that I was no better than Han Taesan—just another pathetic idiot—I felt a sting in my eyes.

Fearing I might cry, I hid my face behind Go Yohan’s tilted body. I lifted the hem of my blazer and covered my face with it. This way, everyone would think I was asleep. If a few tears fell, it wouldn’t matter.

Go Yohan’s back, despite his perpetually cold expression, was unexpectedly warm.