Eighteen’s Bed

"……."

And yet, as if possessed by a demon, I stepped forward and looked down at Han Junwoo. His face was half-swollen, and he was sleeping like the dead. Seeing him like that, the first emotion that surfaced certainly wasn’t love.

I spat on his face.

The truth was, I didn’t have to do anything. I could’ve just let it go. I could’ve simply scolded Go Yohan, put on my usual air of indifference, and stayed on the sidelines—the ever-innocent, beloved Kang Jun who never got involved in anything.

But I didn’t want to.

Because why the fuck did he have to step on me? I never asked for his attention. I never forced my feelings onto him. And yet he crushed me underfoot.

All because he was obsessed with some cheap, trashy version of love. That bastard. That fucking bastard.

My deep, festering resentment and betrayal splattered onto the bridge of his nose and his cheek. When given a chance to do something to Han Junwoo, I didn’t express desperate, self-sacrificing love. Instead, I chose this—petty revenge.

That meant I was no different from Go Yohan.

"Wow. What the hell."

Go Yohan clapped his hands in delight. Panicking at the thought of getting caught, I grabbed Junwoo’s blanket and wiped away the spit, pressing the fabric against his face.

Seeing that, Yohan clasped his cheeks between both hands and beamed.

"This—this must be what happiness feels like, Jun!"

"……What the hell is?"

Honestly, if I was bad, Go Yohan was absolutely insane.

We left the hospital room just as visiting hours ended. Go Yohan hummed a tune under his breath, and I walked beside him in silence. Then, abruptly, he stopped humming and turned to me.

"Oh, right, Jun."

"……?"

"Hey, wanna go somewhere today? Just the two of us?"

So now he liked me, huh? What a bastard.

I took another step forward and answered.

"Whatever."

At that, Yohan suddenly stepped ahead of me. Surprised by the movement, I looked up—only for him to turn around and place a hand on my shoulder.

Like he was looking at a well-trained dog.

"Hey."

"……What."

"I finally like you a little."

His tone felt like he was offering praise from a position above me.

That subtle, almost imperceptible nuance made me uncomfortable.

I hesitated. Should I call him out on it? Or should I just lower my head and pretend not to notice?

Choices like these always came suddenly. Just like now.

What would lead to a better outcome for my life?

I thought about it for a moment, then took the easier path.

It’s not like I’d be seeing Go Yohan after graduation, anyway. But for the sake of a peaceful high school experience…

I smirked slightly, shrugging my shoulders. I still wanted to keep at least some dignity.

"Guess it’s just because, for once, you and I happened to be on the same page."

"On the same page?"

Yohan repeated my words, then stretched his lips into a slow grin under the setting sun.

"Damn. You really hate Han Junwoo, huh?"

His voice dripped with mockery, but there was no real hostility behind it.

A cold, frostbitten expression.

The bruised, blue-tinged jaw of Go Yohan.

I glanced at the darkening sky reflected in the window.

And in that dim reflection, I saw Yohan smiling faintly.

"Thanks."

The reflection of his white teeth shone just slightly.

For what?

For hating Han Junwoo?

Or for retrieving the tooth that Junwoo had broken?

He never clarified the most important part, so I had no idea what exactly Go Yohan was thanking me for.

"Let’s go."

"……Yeah."

Still, from that moment on—

I realized that I quite liked Go Yohan.

When had it started? I wasn’t sure.

But if I had to pinpoint the moment I finally acknowledged it—

It was now.

*****

Lately, I’d been observing Go Yohan.

It was strange—he always seemed to be where my gaze landed.

Not that I was the weird one. If anything, he was.

Go Yohan was petty and narrow-minded. Despite his outwardly ascetic lifestyle, his sexual curiosity was off the charts.

"Blowjobs are fucking amazing. My girlfriend gives me one every weekend. You guys wouldn’t get it. Hey, you know? A friend told me that cum is actually good for a girl’s skin."

"No wonder the guys last time told me to just spray it all over her face."

"Pretty sure that’s just ‘cause she was disgusted by swallowing your shit."

"That’s your problem, not mine."

"No, that’s definitely your problem."

"Nah, man, prostitutes do it way better. They’ve got way more experience, so they know all the tricks."

"Fuck off. A girlfriend’s got love in it. Love."

"More like free labor."

"You little fucker, I’m gonna kill you."

The guys who were considered decent-looking at school usually had sex with their girlfriends, while the ugly but boastful ones pooled their pocket money to lose their virginity at brothels.

Honestly, most high schoolers had their first time at some rundown parlor, which made Han Junwoo’s stories about one-night stands at clubs the stuff of fantasy for the guys who couldn’t pull it off themselves.

That’s why these dumbasses were obsessed with his tales.

To guys, the number of times they had sex was like the number of medals on a soldier’s uniform. Whether it was with a girlfriend or a prostitute, it didn’t matter—the woman was just a medal to be collected.

Even the most private, intimate moments ended up being reduced to the grainy, low-resolution porn videos you could find online with a quick search.

And they talked about it like it was something to be proud of.

Fucking moronic sluts.

By their standards, Go Yohan was just another loser without a single "medal." But the difference was, he saw them as the idiots.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck. Aren’t all of you just sluts?"

Hearing this, I could start to understand why Go Yohan despised Han Junwoo.

Maybe, in his mind, he couldn’t stand letting the parasites of society run free. Whether it was prostitution or homosexuality, it was all the same to him.

"Stop reeking of STDs and fuck off."

Go Yohan’s tone was always playful, but unmistakably designed to mock and demean.

And because of that, people who technically belonged to the same social circle as him found him infuriating.

Another hierarchy was revealed here. The lower-ranked guys just laughed it off, but the ones on Yohan’s level fired back the same way—half-joking, half-serious.

Most of the time, Kim Minho was the one leading the charge, and his primary weapon was Yohan’s lack of sexual experience.

"The fuck, why is a virgin even talking here? Get lost, cherry boy."

But Yohan just smirked, slithering like a snake.

"I only butt in ‘cause you guys sound like total dumbasses."

"Oh yeah? And what the fuck do you know, virgin boy?"

"Look, listen. Since you all can’t seem to shut the fuck up about blowjobs, let me educate you poor, clueless high schoolers."

Grinning, Yohan opened his mouth. With a delicate finger, he pressed down on the center of his tongue.

"This is a blowjob."

Then, he opened his mouth even wider, shoving his finger deeper until it nearly reached his throat before pulling it back out.

"That was deepthroating."

This time, he tilted his head slightly upward, withdrew his finger, and pointed at the space between his chin and neck.

"And this is irrumatio, kiddies. If you don’t hit this deep, you’re not a real man. But I get it. Your dicks are the size of peas, so you wouldn’t know anything beyond a simple blowjob. Seriously, watching you little shits obsess over the same thing over and over again hurts me. Is your dick so small that it only reaches the tongue? If your cock’s the same size as it was when your mom changed your diapers, how the hell are you gonna live? Shit, if she saw you naked now, she’d probably get nostalgic and start powdering your ass again."

"The fuck? Where the hell did you learn all this? Don’t tell me you’ve been sneaking around behind our backs?"

"No, dumbass. I read. Try it sometime. Read. Fucking idiot."

He punctuated each syllable by lightly smacking the guy’s face with a thin book.

"Fuh-uhh-ck—!"

The hoarse laughter of post-puberty voices filled the room.

At the time, I had been near the front of the classroom, talking with Ahn Jisoo about a pop quiz.

Jisoo, despite having a higher rank than me academically, always seemed wary of my performance. That’s why he always asked me about my test results after exams.

His entire mood soured whenever his grades slipped.

And most of the time, he blamed the noise pollution from the back of the classroom.

"Ugh, they’re so damn loud…."

He muttered under his breath, probably not even realizing he said it out loud. Then, suddenly aware of my presence, he shot me a nervous glance.

Because he knew I had friends in that rowdy group.

"It’s fine. Honestly, they are kinda loud."

"Ah, no, it’s nothing… Oh, wait. How did you solve question 25?"

Jisoo craned his neck to peek at my test sheet.

I reached out to point at the question, then bit my lip before responding in an intentionally generous tone.

"I got that one wrong. It was hard."

"Really? Oh, well, I think I got it right, but I’m not totally sure."

So what? You dumbass.

"Then wouldn’t it be better to ask the teacher? I’m not confident in my answer."

"I just wanted to double-check before I go up to him. You’re pretty good at studying."

Jisoo gave me a cautious smile.

Was it the kind of smile that formed naturally during a conversation?

Or was he smiling because he liked the situation?

I had no way of knowing.

But Jisoo was smart.

If I let jealousy slip here, I’d feel like a dog that had lost a fight.

So I pretended to listen to his brilliant explanation even though I didn’t give a shit.

Long story short, we were both fake as hell.

"Player number one, Park Dongchul! With an ass round and plump as a peach!"@@novelbin@@

The topic at the back had shifted again.

"Alright, Dongchul, you ready?"

"Yes!"

Their giggles went from quiet snickers to full-blown cackles.

"Holy shit, this fucker’s lost it! Yohan! Look at this! This dude’s insane!"

"This is fucking hilarious. Yohan, hurry up and look at this crazy bastard!"

At the ruckus, I placed my hand on one of Jisoo’s test papers and turned around.

I could hear Jisoo shifting as he followed my gaze.

"Uugh, ugh—!"

Park Dongchul was shoving the neck of a soda bottle into his mouth.

Lips sealed around it, one hand gripping the body of the bottle, he moved it in and out in slow, deliberate strokes.

I frowned.

"What the fuck are they doing?"

"No idea."

Jisoo shook his head.

But it wasn’t that we didn’t understand what was happening.

We were just too stunned to process it.

"Seriously, what the fuck is going on…?"

The green bottle slid in and out of Park Dongchul’s mouth at an increasingly rapid pace. It went deeper and deeper, the wet slosh of liquid against plastic growing more pronounced. The boys surrounding him erupted in louder cheers.

"Dongchul, you crazy bastard!"

"That fucker’s got talent!"

The bottle tilted and curved, sometimes pulling all the way out before being shoved back in. His tongue completely sealed the bottle’s opening, making it perfectly visible as he demonstrated his technique. The pace quickened.

Park Dongchul spread his legs apart in the chair, bending at the waist to look down at the floor.

Foamy white bubbles streamed from his lips.

The soda fizzed, rolling down his chin, dripping onto the wooden floorboards beneath him.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!"

The gasping chants grew in rhythm, echoing through the classroom. Bent in half, Dongchul suddenly straightened up.

At the same time, he yanked the bottle out of his mouth.

As soon as the plastic parted from his tongue, the trapped foam burst out, spilling freely down his chin.

"He’s coming, he’s coming!"

Park Dongchul lowered his arm, positioning the soda bottle near his crotch, and shook it vigorously.

The boys around him recoiled, throwing up their arms in defense, but it was useless. Their uniform sleeves still ended up splattered with sticky soda.

"Ah, fuck! That’s disgusting!"

"Hahhahaha! You dumbass!"

A trail of bubbles clung to the corner of his lips, a few drops still hanging from his chin before plopping onto his shirt.

The bottle’s mouth now pointed downward, its contents splattered across the floor, leaving dark brown stains.

Absolutely fucking revolting.

"……."

Was he really that desperate to be included?

It was so pitiful I could hardly bring myself to look.

I turned away, and sure enough, Ahn Jisoo wore the same disgusted expression, his features twisted in revulsion.

Meanwhile, Go Yohan wiped his thumb against his chin, grinning.

From that day onward, the boys at our school stopped calling it a blowjob.

They used irrumatio instead.

Not long after, Han Taesan returned.

Freed from Han Junwoo’s grasp, albeit unintentionally.

And for me, that was nothing short of uncomfortable.