Eighteen's Bed

Chapter 4.3

The liquor concocted from an eighteen-year-old’s mind is all the same. When kids barely old enough to count all their fingers and toes try to devise an apology, it's nothing but an obvious, shallow trick, devoid of sincerity.

“You call that ‘just that’? That’s harsh. Don’t you know the saying?”

Go Yohan leaned back, arching his spine that had been pressed against the chair, and looked up at the ceiling. Crossing his arms, he kept smiling. With his naturally dark and melancholic face, even his smiles never looked truly bright.

“A man is either a dog or a kid.”

“...Seriously.”

“I’m not a dog, so whether I age or not, we’re all just kids. What difference does it make?”

If Han Junwoo’s father were a dog, now that would be a problem. Go Yohan cracked a useless joke as he unfolded his arms. I looked at him in disbelief, once again reminded that his ridiculous logic knew no time or place.

“Hey, the buzzer’s ringing.”

Go Yohan sprang up and snatched the vibrating pager.

“Keep an eye on my stuff.”

“What stuff...?”

Ignoring me entirely, he walked off and returned with a tray in each hand. Honestly, I was dumbfounded. Sure, his hands were big enough to hold one tray in each, but still—

“Isn’t that heavy?”

“Not really. Doesn’t feel like it.”

One of them was a stone pot, for god’s sake. Yet, he placed them onto the table without so much as a grunt of effort. Watching him, I was momentarily dazed, and noticing my blank stare, he clicked his tongue and made a sharp sound.

“Were you impressed by my manners, by any chance?”

That was... quite a miscalculation.

“Just shut up and eat.”

“How am I supposed to eat with my mouth shut? Like this?”

I ignored him as he pressed his lips together and brought the spoon to them. Soon after, he grinned, baring his teeth, before plopping back into his seat.

Picking up my spoon, I looked down at the bowl in front of me. I slowly lowered my hand, scraping the surface slightly. Go Yohan blew on his food, then set his spoon back down and began poking at the side dishes with his chopsticks.

I was about to take a bite but paused, my eyes strangely unable to leave Yohan’s hands.

“I’ve been thinking this for a while... You use chopsticks really properly.”

“Me? You think so?”

“Yeah.”

But somehow, it doesn’t suit you. It’s too formal. I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud. However, maybe because he was trying to read my expression, Go Yohan squinted before suddenly exclaiming, “Ah!” with a sinister smirk.

“So, you noticed.”

“Noticed what?”

I asked sincerely. What...?

“You’re pretending you don’t know, huh? Fine, you sharp-eyed, quick-witted bastard. Alright, I’ll bring you in on it too.”

On what, exactly? I frowned at his incomprehensible words, and Go Yohan twisted his lips.

“Well, when I go see Han Junwoo, there’s something I need you to... you know, help with.”

“What the... Forget it.”

It was obviously bullshit, so I just nodded halfheartedly.

Finishing his meal first, Go Yohan stuffed his hands into his pockets and simply watched me. As soon as I was done, he jerked his chin toward the hospital elevator. Then, without even wearing a watch, he repeatedly tapped his bare wrist as if urging me.

“I’m done, so stop rushing.”

“We need to make visiting hours. You’re taking your sweet-ass time.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Fine.”

“Get up. Hurry.”

“I’m up, I said.”

“Hurry up and call the elevator.”

“Goddamn it...”

Muttering irritably, I jogged over and pressed the button.

“Attaboy!”

“Fuck off...”

I shot Go Yohan a discreet glare. So this bastard gets clingy when he gets close to someone. Took me over six months to figure that out. Then again, it’s not like I ever tried to.

As we waited, Yohan rubbed his fingers over the edge of the large bandage stuck to his jaw. The thick patch, firmly attached to his skin, started dangling slightly.

“Are you supposed to peel it off like that?”

“It’s annoying. Makes washing my face a pain.”

Before I could respond, the elevator doors opened. Yohan stepped in and immediately pressed the floor button without hesitation. As we ascended, he looked in the mirror and bared his teeth, muttering nonsense like, “Huh, they’re aligned.”

I stole a glance at him. He bent slightly to see himself in the mirror, hands tucked into his pockets, exuding delinquent energy. And god, he was absurdly tall. While I was instinctively observing him, the elevator reached our floor in no time.

The hallway was dead silent. Yohan jerked his chin at a hospital room.

“That’s the one.”

His slightly parted lips and downward gaze were laced with arrogance. As the doors began to close behind us, we stepped out. However, Yohan didn’t immediately move toward the room. I stopped behind him, waiting for his reaction.

After standing still for a moment, he resumed walking, his unusually long legs striding forward. Scratching at the adhesive edge of his bandage with his ring finger, he peeled it off in one go.

“Ah. Fuck. That stings.”

The discarded bandage went straight into his pocket. His pants, previously flat, now had a small bulge where it was stuffed. Turning around, Yohan looked at me.

“...”

His exposed jaw was covered in a mix of bluish and deep red bruises. Honestly, it looked a little grotesque. Yet, the man himself grinned with absolute confidence, which felt strangely eerie and unsettling to me. Especially with that perpetually sullen face of his—like he was always plotting something.

“How do I look? Convincing?”

Go Yohan, always full of shit. Everything he said was spontaneous and self-indulgent. He had a knack for trying to persuade me with nonsense and, at times, even trapped himself in his own delusions.

“...Who knows.”

"Damn. His face is completely wrecked."

So much for an apology. Not exactly something the guy who wrecked that face should be saying, either.

Grinning, Yohan ran a finger down Junwoo’s unconscious face, pushing at his skin.

"Did it feel good, tattling to your daddy? What are you, a kid?"

He kept snickering to himself, then suddenly went, "Oh, right," and pulled a pen and a small sticky note from his pocket. The note had the name of a uniform shop printed in large, fancy letters, but the paper itself was cheap and yellowed.

Yohan bit off the pen cap with his canines. With a soft pop, the tip of the pen clicked into place, and he scrawled out a short sentence. Then, for some reason, he had to show it to me.

The note read:

I GOT BEAT TO SHIT BY GO YOHAN LIKE A DOG.

Then, he slapped the sticky note onto Junwoo’s forehead and, as if thoroughly amused, took pictures of him. The click, click, click of the camera continued for a while.

Finally, Yohan pried Junwoo’s mouth open.

"Junwoo, time for a delicious meal."

He peeled the note off, shredded it into tiny pieces, and let the scraps tumble off his fingers into Junwoo’s open mouth. Then, he forced his jaw to move.

Click, click. The sound of teeth clacking against each other filled the room.

After toying with Junwoo’s jaw for a moment, Yohan glanced around and grabbed a water bottle. Then, he poured.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"What does it look like?"

Yohan smirked, tugging at the corners of his lips.

"The Bible says if your enemy strikes your left cheek, offer your right cheek too."

"...And?"

"Junwoo's enemy is me, obviously. But I only got to hit his right cheek. So I came to make sure I got the left one, too. The bastard won’t voluntarily turn his cheek to me, after all."

Go Yohan didn’t stop smiling as he tapped Junwoo’s cheek with the back of his long fingers.

"You already beat him to a pulp, though."

"Huh? I didn’t beat him. I retaliated."

"Same thing."

"Nope. Not at all. Jun, my dear Jun. You know, simple assault and self-defense are judged very differently by the law. The government decides—did you throw the first punch, or did you hit back after taking a punch? The first guy? Total scumbag. The second guy? Eh, he’s kinda okay."

"..."

"I’m kinda okay."

Go Yohan raised two fingers and pointed at Junwoo’s limp body.

"And he’s the scumbag."

Then, suddenly, he dropped his hand and his voice turned sharp.

"Shouldn’t have hit someone in the first place, dumbass."

Go Yohan pressed a swollen cheek hard with his index finger, making a scoffing sound. Han Junwoo’s head lolled to the side. I stared at Yohan with an expression of pure exasperation.

So this was his big revenge? Taking pictures and making him eat scraps of paper?

But when our eyes met, Yohan—fully aware of my disbelief—only kept grinning.

“What are you staring at?”

He puckered his lips playfully and shrugged.

“You’re acting weird.”

“What is?”

“There’s no way a single apology could be enough, no matter how badly you got hurt.”

“Fuck—”

The sudden curse slipped from his mouth. Startled, I widened my eyes and looked at him.

Yohan tilted his head slightly, biting his lip, shooting me a sharp glare. His chin was lifted just enough to look down at me, his gaze anything but friendly.

“He got beat. I got beat. What’s the big deal? If we apologize, it’s even. What, is he some kind of national treasure while I’m just some stray dog on the street?”

“No, that’s not what I—”

“You’re really pissing me off right now.”

Did he have to be this damn sarcastic? His tone, acting all put out, annoyed me. So I shot back with just as much irritation.

“You’re the one who dragged me out here on a damn holiday.”

“What? Hey, you were the one who asked me to hang out. Changing your tune now? And come on, mutual benefit is a good thing.”

“Mutual benefit? And what exactly am I getting out of this?”

“You don’t know?”

Yohan’s mood swings were always sudden. Just now, he’d been spitting curses, and yet here he was, calling my name in an oddly lifted voice. It felt off.

Had Yohan always been like this? Was he always this kind of person?

"Jun."

I found myself looking at him as if drawn in. He pointed at Han Junwoo, a slow smile creeping onto his face.

“This is your chance.”

His voice was low, urging me forward.

“I told you I’d take care of you, didn’t I? This is what you were waiting for, wasn’t it?”

My eyebrows furrowed on instinct. At the same time, Yohan’s eyes curved mischievously. Looking at them, I thought—

Go Yohan wasn’t a devout believer.

He was a goddamn demon that had crept into a sacred space.

He wasn’t religious. He was a blasphemer.

So this was what he had meant at the restaurant.