Eighteen's Bed

Chapter 1.4

A week of awkwardness passed. Han Junwoo spent his time with his group, while I pretended it didn’t matter, acting as if he wasn’t important to me either. I hung out with Go Yohan and a few casual friends, keeping up appearances.

The most frustrating thing about the current situation was being distanced from Han Junwoo’s group, which meant I couldn’t hear about him directly anymore. Occasionally, I’d get bits of news from Go Yohan’s group. So, when I wanted to know something about Han Junwoo, I went to Go Yohan. The fact that I stubbornly refused to swallow my pride, even while burning with curiosity, felt ridiculous.

When I subtly asked Go Yohan about Han Junwoo, he would casually tap away at Kim Seokmin’s gaming console and reply without much interest. “Oh, him? He went out again.” That answer would leave me speechless.

“...Damn bastard.”

I understood why Han Junwoo’s emotions were so violent. He was such a primal, instinct-driven, emotional person—a beast in every sense.

“Probably went to a club again,” I guessed.

“No, this time it was a blind date,” Yohan replied, twisting his body as if struggling with the game.

“Jinhyun set him up. You know, that girl who kept begging him to introduce her to Han Junwoo. Apparently, they hit it off right away. Like, the second they met, they just left together. Seriously. But it’s not just him; the girl was no pushover either. She agreed without hesitation. Like, ‘Sure, why not!’”

“...”

“Wow, both of them are so chill,” he added.

It wasn’t admiration or praise. His words were drenched in derision, and for the first time in a while, I felt a bit lighter. I casually perched on Yohan’s desk, tapping his shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. Yohan glanced up at me before leaning back to make room for me to sit properly on the desk. A small gesture of gratitude.

Yohan was the only one who openly criticized Han Junwoo’s filthy love life, and for that alone, I found him tolerable.

“They’re disgustingly cool,” I remarked.

“Right? I’m not cool at all, though.”

The way he said it, almost boastful, made me laugh.

“Aren’t you supposed to be uncool? You’re a student.”

“There’s no ‘supposed to’ about it. You learn these things as you go. Human rationality is like that,” he said, smirking without taking his eyes off the game.

“Is that why you’re still single?” I teased.

Finally, Yohan turned off the screen. He looked at me with an incredulous smile, tapping my hand resting on his shoulder.

“I’m filing a harassment claim against you.”

“How is this harassment?”

“If the person on the receiving end feels uncomfortable, it’s harassment.”

“Yohan, you’re seriously insane.”

“Pervert.”

My slipper fell to the floor as I swung my foot idly. Ignoring it, I pushed Yohan’s leg with my sock-covered foot. He pretended to be shoved back, then casually flipped me off. His raised hand revealed the rosary always wrapped around his left wrist. I lightly kicked his leg again.

“That rosary doesn’t suit you.”

“Why not?” he asked, suddenly serious.

Why get all serious now?

“It just doesn’t match you.”

“Doesn’t match me? Weird. Don’t I seem like a devout Catholic?”

“No? It just looks like a fashion accessory.”

“...It’s not, though.”

Looking back, I should have realized it when his name was Yohan. But I thought it was just short for something like “be quiet, Yohan.” Turns out, Yohan was that John, as in Saint John.

Surprisingly, Yohan’s family was Catholic for generations. Even more shocking, Yohan himself claimed to be a devout Catholic. But I couldn’t take that seriously—he couldn’t even recite a single prayer properly.

I spent the week avoiding Han Junwoo. Whenever we crossed paths in class, I’d glance at him briefly before turning away.

I still didn’t have the courage to talk to him. Maybe I didn’t want to lose. The idea that whoever likes more loses—what a pathetic notion to be bothered by. Still, even knowing how ridiculous it was, I couldn’t bring myself to speak to him.

In contrast, Han Taesan often spoke to me, probably because I was the only one who bothered to respond. But seeing the new bruises on his face every day made it clear that Han Junwoo was still beating him somewhere out of my sight, like a beast marking its territory.

When I frowned at the sight, Taesan noticed my gaze and turned his head to hide the injuries.

Four more days passed. One quiet morning, alone in the classroom, I buried my face in my hands. I didn’t want to confront the awful play unfolding here.

The distance between me and Han Junwoo grew starker. What had once been a small gap had long since turned into an unbridgeable chasm of despair. Opening my eyes felt like the rift would swallow me whole. The bruises on Taesan’s swollen eyes were as glaringly obvious as a seal on a document. That made me all the more reluctant to see either of them. I wanted to avoid everything.

Then, as if luck had narrowly favored me, Han Taesan stopped coming to school. The homeroom teacher called it an absence, but the hesitance in their voice betrayed the truth: truancy. I almost cheered out loud.

On the other hand, Han Junwoo spent classes fidgeting with his phone, snapping irritably, or even punching one of his lackeys for mouthing off.

Part of me felt smug. Another part reveled in a strange sense of superiority. I convinced myself that soon, once Han Taesan officially transferred or disappeared for good, Han Junwoo would lose interest and turn back to me. Confident in that thought, I waited patiently for the moment to come.

A few more days passed like that.

“Han Junwoo seems really down,” Go Yohan remarked offhandedly. My heart thudded heavily in my chest. I wanted to turn my head immediately to look at Han Junwoo’s face, but I couldn’t. When it came to love, I was a coward. All I could do was listen to Yohan’s words about Junwoo and imagine what he might be like.

But nothing changed, even as the day wore on and all the classes ended. I convinced myself there would be another chance tomorrow. After all, things don’t shift so quickly. I kept waiting, and when classes finally ended and I was slinging my bag over my shoulder, Yohan spoke up with something strange.

“You fought with Han Junwoo, didn’t you?”

I turned around reflexively at his words.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t tell me you still haven’t made up since that cafeteria incident?”

“...”

“Wow, this is lasting longer than I thought,” Yohan said, shrugging with his hands shoved into his pockets. I avoided his gaze and muttered an excuse.

“Thank you, Jun.”

After a long hesitation, Taesan’s voice came softly, trembling slightly. What the hell? Honestly, it made me a bit uncomfortable.

“T-thank you for always helping me...”

“It’s nothing.”

“I just... wanted to say it. Thank you. S-see you later.”

“Yeah.”

“...Bye.”

What “bye”?

I didn’t bother responding to his farewell and hung up. Just hearing Taesan’s voice crawl into my ears was enough to send shivers down my spine and leave me thoroughly uncomfortable.

What happened to Taesan that night, I don’t know. All I do know is that from the next day onward, Taesan started coming to school again. And within a week, the faint peach fuzz characteristic of his youthful skin began to show again. Taesan also stopped suddenly approaching me to talk, his demeanor shifting dramatically.

The abrupt change in his behavior planted seeds of suspicion in my mind. And when all the bruises on Taesan’s face finally disappeared, I couldn’t help but feel a faint sense of hope—however unlikely it seemed.

Then, two weeks later, Han Junwoo approached me out of nowhere.

“Hey.”

“...”

“Kang Jun.”

“...”

I didn’t look at him, keeping my gaze fixed straight ahead. But my lips felt like they might break open with a gasp at any moment.

Could it be that Han Junwoo was finally tired of Han Taesan? Was my worry truly unfounded? If so, that would be great. I could forgive him for spending the night with some unknown girl from a nearby high school. I could even forgive him for not talking to me. Not that it mattered, since I wasn’t anything more than just a friend—or less than that, really—but still, it felt good to think that way.

“Let’s talk,” he said.

I couldn’t help but break into a broad smile. It was instinctual, out of my control. When I turned to face Han Junwoo, he was scratching his cheek with a faint, bitter smile.

“Hey. We’re friends, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit, it’s disgusting. So you know what I’m about to say, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“And your answer?”

“My answer is... It’s fine. It happens.”

“Damn. I missed that polite little way of speaking you have,” he said, giving my chair a small kick with his foot.

Missed it? Missed me? For a moment, I clenched my fists tightly. But before I could even process those words, Han Junwoo continued speaking, leaving no room for me to bask in that fleeting joy. I bit down on the inside of my mouth so hard it bled.

“Still, don’t hang out with Han Taesan anymore.”

“What?”

“I’ll try to hold back from bullying him too.”

The meaning of his words was clear—Han Junwoo wasn’t done with Han Taesan. He hadn’t lost interest. Instead, the dense fool had come up with a different approach. And thanks to my stubbornness, that new approach was now accelerating. Still, knowing my place in Junwoo’s world, I forced myself to lift the corners of my trembling mouth into a smile.

“Alright. Got it. You’ve made a good decision.”

Because I’m your friend. Even if it feels like dying inside.

Oddly enough, Han Junwoo really did stop bullying Han Taesan after that. He didn’t hit him, didn’t intimidate him with harsh words.

I didn’t know what happened in those two short weeks, but it was clear that something significant had occurred within Han Junwoo, changing his heart completely. That was when I began to regret everything.

Han Junwoo started taking Taesan to the cafeteria, sitting him by his side, and even tossing random bread onto Taesan’s desk without warning. When Taesan, terrified, recoiled at his actions, Junwoo would explode, shouting things like, “Shit, do you think I’m going to eat you?” or “Why the hell are you looking at me like that? It pisses me off.”

When school ended, Junwoo no longer walked home with me. Instead, he trailed behind Han Taesan, who lived in poverty.

Just as Taesan had changed, so had I. I began treating him coldly. Whenever our eyes met, I would turn my head away without hesitation, deliberately avoiding him.

That was how life went on.

*****

Han Taesan was poor. You could see it clearly just by looking at his school uniform. I had never seen such worn-out fabric in my life. It must have been a hand-me-down from somewhere. But I didn’t feel sorry for him. I just thought, “There’s a kid like that.” I figured I had nothing to do with him—our worlds didn’t align. Normally, I wouldn’t have exchanged a single word with someone like him.

Why was Han Junwoo so angry with someone like Taesan? Why did he chase after him so relentlessly, even in his fits of rage? Why couldn’t he let Taesan go? Was it fascination with an experience he’d never had before? Maybe I should’ve been born into a poor family, too. I scratched my neck, laughing bitterly at the pathetic thought.

And just as life has a way of numbing you to things—like watching Junwoo sleep with random girls—seeing him look after Taesan gradually became less shocking. More time had passed than I realized, and in that time, Junwoo and I had spoken less and less.

As the days dragged on, clueless as ever, Taesan made another idiotic mistake. He tried to cozy up to me again, subtly acting as though we were close. Didn’t he ever get tired?

By now, Taesan no longer acted like he was going to choke on his food in front of Junwoo. He didn’t stammer and tremble like an idiot at every little thing. But some habits didn’t change—like the way he’d occasionally tug lightly at the hem of my jacket. When he did, I would smile faintly, lift my arm, and gently pull my jacket free.

Sometimes, when I met Taesan’s eyes, an uneasy, unpleasant feeling crept through my chest. Fear would follow close behind. When he looked at me, I found myself staring at the floor. There were even nights when, lying face down on my pillow, I would suddenly remember the emotions I’d felt in the taxi I’d taken to meet Junwoo at the hotel. Those nights, I barely slept, trapped in shallow dreams.

That’s what adolescent love is like, isn’t it? Right?

Even as I tried to console myself, sadness refused to leave me alone.

Lately, Junwoo had been speaking to Taesan more often. He always talked to him before, but now the tone of his words had softened. That was the problem. When Junwoo looked at Taesan, there was a faint tremor in his eyes, barely noticeable but undeniably there.

And when I saw that, when it felt like the pain was going to tear me apart, Go Yohan would speak to me.

It was usually meaningless chatter. But honestly, I was grateful for it.