Eighteen’s Bed

"…What’s with you today?"
Honestly, I was a little scared. Not of Go Yohan himself, but of whatever the hell he was planning to do.
Whether it was affection, cruelty, or something in between—I wasn’t sure which worried me more.

"Jun-ah."
His voice curled around my name, a small laugh slipping in between the syllables.
I heard it.

I couldn’t tell if it was a mocking laugh or something reflexive—born from nervousness.
Either way, Go Yohan had noticed my trembling.
No, not just noticed. He had deliberately reached for my hand, testing my reaction.

He couldn’t read my expression, so he was gauging me through touch.
Fucking hell. This guy.
"I’ve been thinking a lot," he murmured, voice softening. "And I realized—I made a huge mistake. Really, really, really huge. I’m so sorry. You know, I might have a bit of an anger problem. I just… I’ve never fought with a friend before. You’re my only friend. Right?"

Anger problem? Since when?
Another lie.
Damn it.

Or maybe his real goal was touching me.
Maybe he leaned in like this on purpose, knowing that if he went for my face, I wouldn’t be able to focus on my hands.
Go Yohan was a snake like that.

"You know that, right? That I’ve had a tough life…"
Now he was playing the sympathy card.
His voice carried a delicate tremor, and the bridge of his nose—always so sharp—had turned pink.
His lower eyelids were flushed, eyes glassy.

I had a sudden, absurd thought.
Go Yohan looks even better when he cries.
My fingers twitched under his grasp.

The weight of this tension felt like a live wire pressing against my skin.
I clenched my hand under his, but it was too late.
Even if I faked composure, he knew.

He had already felt me tremble.
At this point, I’d rather be smacked in the head with a baseball bat and knocked unconscious.
That might be less painful.

"……."
"Jun-ah."
He must’ve sensed my nerves, because instead of smirking, he leaned in further, eyes damp with a forced fragility.

No way.
No fucking way.
This bastard was acting.

He was faking being hurt—pretending to be vulnerable just to mess with me.
"Back off—"
"What do I do, then?"

His voice cut through mine, shamelessly interrupting.
His fingers ghosted over the veins on the back of my hand, tracing them slowly.
Fuck.

Fucking fuck.
I yanked my hand back—or tried to.
But before I could escape, he caught me.

Tightly.
White-knuckle tight.
His sharp eyes flickered downward, focusing on the hands locked between us.

Between his damp lashes, something hazy gleamed—something unreadable.
"We agreed to make up, didn’t we?"
"……."

"That’s still true, right?"
He’s changing tactics again.
I hated how his face looked like rainy season—the kind of expression that clung to you, heavy and damp.

Go Yohan was a fucking game.
Every phase had a different strategy, and you had to learn them through countless failures.
He was a boss fight that required memorizing every unpredictable move.

"…Yeah."
So what was the right move for this phase?
How did I survive this one?

I thought hard.
But Go Yohan never had a single, clear answer.
He was—by definition—an anomaly.

I stared down at our entwined hands.
What was he really trying to do?
What did he want from me?

He couldn’t possibly be expecting me to reciprocate whatever this was—he wasn’t that much of a psycho… right?
But after considering every angle, I came up empty.
Nothing about this made sense.

If he still hated me, he could’ve kept ignoring me or making my life hell.
But instead, he was suddenly—suspiciously—gentle.
Even though I knew he was still pissed.

"Yeah, for now."
If I couldn’t find the right answer, I’d settle for the safest one.
The problem was, the safest path led straight to Go Yohan.

I twisted my wrist out of his grip.
It caught for a second—his fingers clamping tighter—before he exhaled and let go.
Immediately, I shoved my hand under the desk.

"Lunch is almost over."
It was more of a mutter to myself than anything.
But Go Yohan responded instantly.

As if he had been waiting.
"Then let’s go together."
"……What."

"Let’s go together."
I hesitated.
Then made my choice.

Play it safe, Kang Jun. Just stay on the safe path.
"……Fine."
At my response, Go Yohan cupped his hands over his mouth, stifling a grin like a kid who had just won a prize.

His tear-streaked eyes curved into a smug arc.
And just like that, Kang Jun made his grand return to Go Yohan’s side.
 

****
Not that much had changed.
The only real benefit?

I could finally demand some damn answers.
"Hey, Go Yohan."
"Mm."

"One of your friends—"
"One of my friends," he repeated, lazily reclining against the plastic chair outside the school store, an ice cream bar dangling from his lips.
Irritating.

Beyond irritating.
I forced myself to keep looking forward, ignoring the visual of his tongue swiping across the pink candy.
Hormonal high schoolers shouldn’t have to witness that shit.

"Has anyone gotten new shoes lately?"
"Siiin-baal?"
Go Yohan stretched out the syllables, leaning back like he had all the time in the world.

A few third-years glanced in our direction.
Or at least, it felt like they did.
"Since when did Go Yohan and Kang Jun get close again? Did they make up?"

"Ugh, they’re so fucking unpredictable. Can’t they just pick a side? The whole school has to tiptoe around their drama."
I thought I heard murmurs like that.
But maybe I was imagining it.

I wasn’t even looking at them properly.
My entire focus was on Go Yohan’s damn furrowed brows.
And it wasn’t like I had superhuman hearing.

I was probably overthinking things again.
Nobody really cared about me that much.
People didn’t pay as much attention as I assumed.

Paranoia just made you embarrassed and miserable.
I nodded to myself.
Still, the fact that people from my class were talking to me again—acting friendly—meant I wasn’t completely wrong.

They must’ve noticed I was back by Go Yohan’s side.
A sudden, unexpected reconciliation.
"What are you doing? Nodding and shaking your head like that?"

"Oh—there was a bug."
"Ugh."
Go Yohan grimaced and waved his hand through the air, as if swatting away an invisible bug.

Either he was genuinely scared of insects, or he was just pretending.
He climbed up onto the chair, hugging his knees, despite still wearing his indoor slippers.
White dust marks, shaped perfectly like his shoes, smeared across the plastic seat.

What an inconsiderate bastard.
It’s not even his chair.
He pulled the melting ice cream bar from his mouth and turned back to me.

"Anyway, why are you asking about shoes?"
"It’s nothing, just—"
"Wait, hold on."

Ignoring my response, he switched the topic entirely.
Classic Go Yohan.
Based on the patterns I had observed so far, he seemed genuinely curious this time.

Probably.
Maybe.
"Where are your shoes?"

"What?"
"You know, the ones you always wore. The fancy white ones that smelled like money. Why aren’t you wearing them anymore?"
Because some asshole stole them, that’s why.

"Oh, those? Got tired of them."
"Tired?"
Red syrup dripped from his half-melted ice cream, sliding down the pale wooden stick and pooling between his fingers.

Sticky, overly sweet.
It clung to the blue veins beneath his thin skin before dripping onto the ground.
But Go Yohan didn’t seem to care.

His brows furrowed as he continued.
"You loved those shoes."
"I wasn’t that attached to them. And hey, people change their minds."

"You’re hilarious. Do you throw everything away once you’re tired of it?"
"What kind of question is that? Isn’t that normal?"
My gaze drifted back to his ice cream.

The pink cream, now soft and warm, oozed between his fingers.
The puddle on the ground grew larger.
Then, without warning—

He shoved the ice cream toward my mouth.
"Wanna bite?"
"The fuck is wrong with you?"

I glared at him like he had completely lost his mind.
But Go Yohan didn’t react.
He just blinked.

"It’s good, though."
"Good, my ass—"
"Jun-ah."

I didn’t answer.
Just glared.
At my silence, he pouted dramatically.

"I’m really happy we made up."
He placed his clean hand over his chest, like some idiot making a heartfelt vow.
"We were each other’s only friends, weren’t we?"

"……"
You? My friend?
I nearly laughed at the absurdity of it.

When I shook my head in disbelief, his face hardened.
Then, in true Go Yohan fashion, he completely changed the subject.
"Listen, there was this internet café I used to go to as a kid. At the entrance, there was a sign that said: ‘Pay today, credit tomorrow.’ You know what that means?"

"It means you can get credit the next day, obviously."
"That’s what I thought too."
Go Yohan spun the melting ice cream in his fingers, then continued.

"So, as a dumb kid, I thought, ‘Wow, if I spend all my money today, I can come back tomorrow and play for free!’ But then the next day, when I walked out after gaming, they still made me pay.
I asked, ‘But yesterday you said I could have credit today?’
And you know what they said?"

He leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming.
"They said, ‘Tomorrow, we’ll give you credit. But today, you pay in cash.’"
He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head.

"It wasn’t until I got older that I realized—the ‘tomorrow’ in their sign didn’t actually exist. I was always supposed to pay."
"……"
"There is no such thing as tomorrow—just the concept of it."

"That’s…"
I almost called it bullshit.
But as ridiculous as it sounded—

It wasn’t entirely wrong.
"……That actually makes sense."
It was his usual way of talking—roundabout, bizarre, but somehow convincing.

Pleased with my reaction, he winked.
"So, I was thinking… Fighting with you was such a waste of time."
"A waste of time?"

"Yeah. If there’s no such thing as tomorrow, then today is the only thing that matters, right?"
"……"
"I should’ve been more careful. I admit it."

His voice oozed with that familiar slickness.
Was this really how he felt?
Or was he just spinning more bullshit?

Or maybe—was he trying to twist an apology into something palatable?
Or was this just nonsense?
It was probably just nonsense.

It always was.
Go Yohan’s nonsense, full of ulterior motives.
"……"

My eyes flickered to his ice cream.
It had melted past the point of saving, and now—
Now, flies had landed on it.

Small, black, buzzing flies.
Clinging to the half-melted, sickly pink cream.
Disgusting.

"Go wash your hands."
"My hands?"
He flipped his palm over, staring at the mess.

Then, as if finally realizing the state of his ice cream—
He just let it drop.
The soggy, sticky mass hit the floor with a wet splat.

He didn’t seem to care.
Go Yohan flexed his fingers, rubbing the syrup between them.
Then, glancing at me from the corner of his eye—

He asked, ever so casually:
"……Wanna go together?"
"Where are you... No way."

"Bathroom."
"Are you insane? If you're going, go alone."
"What, is going to the bathroom together considered crazy?"

Go Yohan acted as if nothing had happened. I could feel it too. Just a few weeks ago, this bastard was screaming at me, knocking me down to the bottom. Yet now, it felt like that fact was being deliberately erased. No way—was this his plan? Was he trying to make everything he did to me just disappear? Just for his own convenience?
When I just stared at him silently, Go Yohan raised an eyebrow again and got up from his seat.
"Then, do you have to wait here obediently until I come back?"

"...Fine, just go wash up already."
"Okay."
Then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Go Yohan made an "OK" gesture with his fingers, still smeared with ice cream.

"You have to stay right there."
"I said I got it."
"If you leave me behind, I'll really hate you."

"...I got it."
"Alright, I'm off then."
Go Yohan rolled his tongue inside his mouth and let out a clear sound. If even something like this didn’t seem like a joke anymore, was I seriously messed up?

As I watched his retreating figure, I rubbed my temples. Facing Go Yohan always made me feel like my entire energy was being dumped into a trash can. It was even more exhausting than running laps around the field for the physical endurance test. Without realizing it, I slumped back against the flimsy plastic chair and let out a long sigh. I'm tired. I'm exhausted from going through all this. That thought suddenly struck me.
And then, my eyes met Shin Jaehyun’s, who was sitting across the way.
Since when had he been there? I hadn’t noticed him at all. As I blinked, Shin Jaehyun waved his hand. His lips moved as if he was saying something, so I frowned and focused. It seemed to be something like this:

"Hey, can I come over to get the key back now?"
Ah, I hadn’t returned the key to Shin Jaehyun. A small damn slipped into my thoughts as my face naturally crumpled. Was it still in my pocket? Absentmindedly, I slipped my hand inside.