Eighteen’s Bed

Two days after Han Junwoo’s desk had been knocked over, his textbooks were thrown into the burning trash.
It wasn’t hard to figure out the culprit. After a few class periods, there was someone grinning triumphantly at Go Yohan. And according to the others, that same person had been bragging in the restroom earlier about tossing out all of Han Junwoo’s books.

"How brave."
I looked at the paper box placed neatly next to the blue trash bin. The box, its edges frayed and its surface fuzzed from wear, contained the struggle between Go Yohan and Han Junwoo.
Two days ago, Han Junwoo had lost to Go Yohan without even realizing it.

The motive was clear. At first, I had thought it was just bullying, but after sensing an unplaceable something, I realized that even Han Junwoo’s own circle had started noticing his odd behavior. It became increasingly obvious that his feelings toward Han Taesan weren’t mere hatred, and that his violent tendencies weren’t just bullying. The moment I saw Han Junwoo and Han Taesan fighting, I was certain. But even as I watched the tide of opinion turn against Han Junwoo, I didn’t feel the need to explain anything or feel guilty.
I wasn’t stupid enough to ruin my own life with my own two feet. I knew exactly how it would look if I tried to defend him. It could make me seem kind, even loyal. But in the cubic jungle we lived in, where more than thirty different versions of the self existed, even one of them would begin to question.
"Why?"

That thought terrified me.
I rested my head on my desk and closed my eyes. Might as well take a nap. And for a fleeting moment, I wished that, when I opened my eyes, everything would be just the way I wanted. I was about to doze off. If I had been left alone, I probably would have drifted into sleep.
Then something smacked the top of my head, jolting me awake. I sat up, rubbing my head, and saw that Go Yohan was also touching his forehead.

"What the hell, that hurt."
"Why are you sleeping first thing in the morning?"
"Mind your own business. What’s that?"

"Oh, this?" Go Yohan grinned shamelessly and lifted the crutch he had tucked under his right arm. "Picked it up on the way here. Found it in the school’s recycling bin."
My face twisted in irritation. Go Yohan was always up to some weird shit.
It didn’t hurt that much, but I ran my fingers over my crown, worried my hair might have gotten messy. Meanwhile, Go Yohan turned around and kicked a chair out of the way, then smoothly sat in it just before it could topple over. Of course, he didn’t fall. He threw his bag onto the desk, then used it as a pillow and flopped forward.

"You wake me up just to sleep yourself?"
"I was just worried about your grades, making sure you didn’t sleep through class. Doesn’t matter if I do. My grades are already garbage."
"Bullshit."

I twisted my body, grumbling as I replied to him. For some reason, everything Go Yohan said made me want to argue back. I nudged his foot in irritation, and he smirked.
"Hey, is it okay to hit an injured person? You trash bastard."
The playful mix of sarcasm and teasing made me scoff, and this time, I kicked his crutch. It toppled toward him, but without even lifting his head, he raised one hand and caught it effortlessly. Even with my interference, he didn’t bother lifting his face from his bag. Instead, he laughed soundlessly, then suddenly spoke.
"I’ve been meaning to ask you something."

"What?"
"That didn’t just happen, did it?"
Shit. Was it that obvious? My face hadn’t been hurt that badly, though.

I hesitated only for a second before brushing my hand over my face and answering nonchalantly.
"It was an accident."
"Hah."

Still resting his chin on his bag, Go Yohan let out a soft chuckle.
"Yeah?"
His eyes flicked to me, and he pointed his finger at me, as if singling me out. I didn’t understand his intent, so I asked back.

"What?"
"You’re shameless."
The moment he smiled, leaning his crutch against himself, I forgot how to think.

What the hell is he saying?
"…What’s shameless?"
"I don’t think you just fell…"

"……."
Go Yohan’s words were always cryptic, but this time, they carried a quiet menace.
His gaze was unnervingly still. His bright irises held a dark pupil that stared at me intently. It was just like watching the tip of an arrow, trying to guess where it would strike. And this time, it was aimed straight at me. My mind went blank. Two words alternated over and over, ringing in my head. No way. He couldn’t have. No way. He couldn’t have.

Then, finally, Go Yohan’s eyes narrowed.
"It looked more like you ran into something."
His long, snake-like eyes curved upward. My throat dried up. My breath caught in my chest. Gulp. While he parted his lips, I couldn’t even blink.

"If the others find out, it’d be embarrassing, wouldn’t it?"
"……."
"I’ll keep it a secret."

Then, raising the hand holding his crutch to his lips, he whispered the words and winked. The breath I had been holding slammed against my ribs like a caged animal.
He didn’t even wait for a reaction. This time, he casually ran a hand through his bangs and pointed at me.
"But did you copy my hairstyle? That’s kinda lame."

I was speechless. Go Yohan crinkled his nose in exaggerated disapproval.
"Anyway, I’m gonna sleep now."
He yawned and buried his face into his bag. Staring at the back of his head, I finally muttered,

"I didn’t copy you, and I didn’t cut my hair."
"Oh yeah?" His muffled voice rumbled from the depths of his bag.
*****

"Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world."
Go Yohan prayed, clutching his report card in one hand.
Fourth period. As soon as English class ended, we received our midterm report cards from last month. Go Yohan buried his head in his opened report card, read his scores, and suddenly muttered that prayer. He then threw his head back dramatically and let out a deep sigh.

"Ah, I’m fucked."
I glanced at my report card, checked my scores, then folded it in half and slipped it into the front pocket of my bag. When I looked back at Go Yohan, he was still sighing.
Because of how far back he’d thrown his head, all I could see was his Adam’s apple. It bobbed heavily, almost as if it were chastising me for staring. Fixing my gaze on his throat, I said,

"That’s not what that prayer is for."
"Who cares? A prayer’s a prayer."
Then, he suddenly asked, "Hey, but is it God or Lord?"

That was when I realized something peculiar about Go Yohan—his religious faith was strange.
"Why are you asking me? It’s your religion."
"Jun-ah, don’t be like that. You’re so smart, I thought you’d know everything."

"I don’t. I’m not religious."
Go Yohan, who had been leaning back as far as he could, suddenly shot forward. Our eyes met, and before I knew it, I instinctively averted my gaze toward the window, pretending not to have seen. But for some reason, my chest prickled sharply, like I’d been caught stealing.
I stared absently out the window, then shifted my focus toward the stiff collar of Go Yohan’s perfectly pressed shirt. The crisp white fabric rested against his neck, but with every exaggerated movement, his collarbone flashed into view.

"So? Wanna come to church with me?"
"What? No."
"Ah, why not? Let’s go. If you go on weekends and Christmas, they give out gifts. Fruits, snacks, tteokbokki…"

"Wait, don’t tell me you go just for that?"
"Of course I do."
I finally got a good look at his face, and my eyes landed on the ballpoint pen he had resting on his upper lip. At first, I didn’t want to admit it out of sheer pride, but at that moment, I had to acknowledge something—Go Yohan was good-looking. What a smug bastard.

The pen, wedged between his nose and upper lip, distorted his voice into a slurred, disgruntled mumble.
"But the way you’re saying it, it’s like I’m stealing or something. If they’re giving it out, what’s wrong with taking it?"
"Can you even call it faith if you believe for such selfish reasons?"

"That’s how everyone starts. People don’t begin with grand beliefs. They think, ‘Oh, they’re giving out tasty food. That person must be nice.’ And then, little by little, their belief in that ‘nice person with snacks’ turns into absolute faith in God. The start and the process don’t matter. What matters is that now, I believe."
Go Yohan spouted bullshit sometimes. Even Han Junwoo got dragged into it now and then.
Sometimes, it was just nonsense. But sometimes, it was the kind of bullshit that even I found myself tempted by. Right now was the latter.

I ran a hand through my bangs, brushing them back from my forehead. But they kept falling back into my eyes, so this time, I shook my head from side to side. My thin strands of hair swayed in front of me. I gathered them near my temples, and finally, the tickling sensation lessened.
I had been so distracted lately that I’d forgotten to get a haircut.
With Han Junwoo and Han Taesan gone, the front of the classroom was always empty. There was no reason for me to look in that direction anymore.

Six days ago, our homeroom teacher called me to the staff office and asked if I’d heard from Han Junwoo.
I answered honestly, without hesitation.
"No, I haven’t."

"You still haven’t made up with Junwoo, have you?"
I gave a small, bitter smile. A perfectly calculated smile. In truth, I didn’t feel like smiling at all.
"No. Junwoo… got really mad at me."

"Junwoo got mad at you?"
"Yeah."
There were already rumors, so it wasn’t as if the homeroom teacher was completely oblivious to the implications of my words.

"Alright, I understand," he said, letting me go. Then, as he sat down, he muttered to himself under his breath.
Judging by the snippets I caught, it was mostly complaints about Han Junwoo and frustration over the scolding he had received from Junwoo’s father.
I pretended not to hear that pathetic monologue and turned away, but I still listened. That was how I grasped the atmosphere inside the teacher’s office.

Later, after school, while I was preparing for my private lessons at home, Han Junwoo’s father called me as well. He asked the same question as the homeroom teacher—if I knew where Han Junwoo was.
I gave him the same answer.
"No, Junwoo hasn’t been reaching out to me anymore."

— I see…
"I’m really sorry I can’t be of any help."
— No, there’s nothing for you to apologize for. It’s alright.

Lately, Han Junwoo’s father had been calling more frequently than usual. And every time, the conversation unfolded in the same manner.
There was something oddly deliberate about the way he kept trying to tie Han Junwoo and me together. I hurried to end the call.
Honestly, there was nothing to apologize for. But I said sorry anyway—to be liked.

It was the same instinct that made people call an ugly newborn cute. A kind of social convention. A form of etiquette that functioned in a civilized society.
So I didn’t think adults saw me as being played.
If anything, my politeness was more akin to a crude pantomime performed by a court jester.

I always knew my place.
And since I put in the effort to be liked, I was bound to become a well-loved jester.
Even if, one day, I made a mistake so blatant that it wrinkled the brows of the audience, they would forgive me.

That was the groundwork I was laying.
Unlike some idiot, I was living my life wisely.
Maybe, from an adult’s perspective, my way of thinking was nothing more than a narrow-minded, petty trick to wriggle my way out of trouble.

But among my peers, it was undeniable—I was someone who knew how to handle unpredictable situations wisely.
If you needed proof, you only had to look at Park Dongchul.
*****

Park Dongchul was the most desperate to get into Go Yohan’s good graces. Because of that, he also acted friendly toward me, since in the eyes of others, I had already aligned myself with Go Yohan early on.
Though he had once been one of Han Junwoo’s closest friends, he was now making it very clear that they hadn’t been that close after all.
"That bastard. Just because he had money and a decent face, he acted so fucking cocky. Honestly, Yohan looks better. He’s taller too, right? Oh yeah, and even that’s bigger."

Dongchul waggled his pinky finger meaningfully. He was trying to elevate Go Yohan by bringing down Han Junwoo. Since Junwoo’s biggest bragging point had always been the countless nights he spent with different girls, Park Dongchul naturally transferred that savage boast onto Go Yohan.
But Lee Seokhyeon was barely listening, openly fiddling with his phone, while Kim Minho, who had been busy chomping on a heated sausage, suddenly perked up with interest.
"Wait a minute. So, you checked out Yohan’s dick in the bathroom?" Minho grinned maliciously. "You pervert. Why are you peeking at another guy’s junk? Hey, are you fucking gay? What, did hanging around Han Junwoo rub off on you? Huh? Huuuuh?"

At that nasty taunt, Park Dongchul’s face burned bright red, and he shut his mouth tight.
"Cut it out. That’s just cruel," Kim Seokmin intervened. "Do you think he wanted to hang out with Han Junwoo all that time?"
Fortunately, Seokmin had been on somewhat friendly terms with Dongchul, or else Dongchul might have actually started crying.

Meanwhile, Minho stuffed the rest of the sausage into his mouth, opening wide enough that the chewed-up mess was visible. Then, out of nowhere, he threw an arm around Dongchul’s shoulder, gave his chest a few pats, and smirked.
"Hey. You’re not mad about a little joke, are you? Come on, don’t be so sensitive."
Dongchul bared his teeth in what was supposed to be a grin, but he definitely wasn’t amused. Seokmin noticed his discomfort and shoved Minho’s hand away.

"Hey, Minho. Knock it off. Seriously. Hey, Dongchul, wanna go to the PC café after school?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure."
"Wait, hold on. You two… No way. No fucking way. I am not watching this shit happen. No, absolutely not. Don’t go. You can’t go. You two, separate! Break apart! Disperse!"

"Jesus, Minho, shut the fuck up. I swear, I’ll fucking kill you."
"Aww, Seokmin, don’t look at me like that. I’m just trying to help you guys bond! It’s all just a bit of fun. C’mon, let’s all go together. Hey, Prince, you coming too?"
"Nah, I’m heading home early."

Seokhyeon, whose nickname was Prince, waved a hand dismissively and turned his attention back to his phone.
With his head buried in his screen, the three lost gazes suddenly landed on me.
Seokmin spoke first.

"Kang Jun, I guess you’re not coming today either, huh? Model student life must be rough, grinding away at all that studying."
"Pretty much."
"Fuuuuck. Man. Dude. Is this what youth is supposed to be? Just studying all the goddamn time? C’mon, screw your parents and come with us. Just once. You won’t even get caught."

"I really can’t. You guys have fun without me."
"Wow. Kang Jun, you’re such a fucking nerd. What a loser."
"Dude, he was always like this, even when he hung out with Han Junwoo."

"Goddamn it. Dongchul! Park Dongchul! You know, right? Even when Kang Jun was hanging around Han Junwoo, he still hung out with us, okay? So if you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, shut your mouth and fuck off. And—and listen, guys. Let’s not bring up Han Junwoo when it’s just us. Just thinking about that gay bastard makes my skin crawl. I knew something was off about him from the start. Ugh."
"Ah… sorry."
"Forget it. What the fuck do you have to be sorry for, Dongchul? And Minho, stop talking shit. You partied with Junwoo on his birthday, didn’t you? Oh, right. Kang Jun, you weren’t there for that, huh?"

"Yeah, I had tutoring that day."
"See? Kang Jun caught on to Junwoo’s bullshit early. Fuck. Back then, I was too blinded by his money to notice. Goddamn it! Fuck!"
Kim Minho pressed his fingers against his forehead and shook his head in disgust.

Seokhyeon, who had apparently looked up from his phone at some point, was now laughing under his breath. Then, shoving his phone into his pocket, he stood up.
"Eh, I’m heading out too."
"Where? To the PC café? With us?"

"Where else? Of course."
Seokhyeon changed his mind, and as soon as he did, the three of them clenched their fists in excitement.
Just then, the classroom’s back door swung open with a loud bang.

It was Go Yohan.
At his grand entrance, Kim Minho clicked his tongue in irritation. It was almost as if he had been waiting for the opportunity. Even though it was obvious Minho was under Go Yohan, he still acted like he was biding his time to find a chance to take a jab at him.
"Ah, fuck, Go Yohan! You asshole! Can’t you see people are studying? Wow, shit! What a goddamn menace."

"Oh, whoops. You’re right. My bad, my dear friends."
Go Yohan placed both palms over his stomach and gave a formal bow.
Then, the moment he sat down, he rubbed his reddened hands against his thighs as if he had just washed them with freezing water. He let out a quiet laugh and, shaking his head slightly, spoke in a teasing tone.

"Forgive Yohan."
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Yohan, you coming too?"
"Where?"

"PC café. Just up the street."
"Are you fucking stupid? If you wanna ruin your life, do it on your own."
"Jesus, Yohan, your life’s as dull as Kang Jun’s. You guys are seriously no fun."

"You morons are the ones who’ll end up with miserable lives by the time you hit thirty. Fucking trash."
"Fuck off. We’re just gonna play for an hour and come back. It’s break time, break time!"