Eighteen's Bed

Chapter 2.4

When I came to my senses, I found myself sprawled out on my bed. Even in my dazed state, I must have managed to lock the door before collapsing.

"Impressive, even in this state."

I lay still, blinking as my awareness gradually returned. My entire face throbbed with a dull, numbing ache. I lifted the hand that felt least stiff. My shoulder moved as though rust had settled into my joints, and a sharp pain shot through the spaces between my bones.

“Ow...”

Touching my battered body with difficulty, my fingers brushed against tender spots that had hardened unnaturally. After lying prone for a moment, I pressed my hand against the bed and pushed myself upright.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I stared blankly at the wall before suddenly bursting into tears. A whimpering sound clawed its way up my throat, emerging from my mouth in raspy, painful cries. My voice seemed raw, as if my vocal cords were being scraped with sandpaper.

Unable to contain my anger, I sprang up and began throwing everything within reach. I cried and raged for what felt like an eternity before sinking back onto the floor. Clamping my mouth shut, I closed my eyes. But even with my eyes closed, tears stubbornly welled up, spilling down my cheeks as my sobs hitched in my throat.

“Damn it!”

I truly wanted to die.

But what I really wanted to die over was last night.

The window had definitely been shut. Had anyone heard? Could someone have heard? Damn it. Damn it. Fucking Han Junwoo. That idiot Han Taesan. Why did they come to my house? Why did they have to ruin my life like this?

“...Damn it.”

What Han Junwoo trampled on in front of Han Taesan wasn’t just me—it was my pride. And that humiliation was worse than any of the times Junwoo avoided me or treated me with disdain. It was something so devastating that it made me cry out in anger.

But even in moments like this, when I was reduced to tears, I still found myself worrying about how I appeared to others. This was one of those moments.

The silence around me suddenly registered, and I stopped crying. I glanced at the clock. It was just before eight. A sharp thought cut through my muddled brain: if I ran into the housekeeper like this, it would be disastrous. A cold chill spread through my head.

My mind cleared. There was no way I could let anyone see me in this pathetic, disgraceful state. Scrambling to my feet, I set the chair upright and shoved all the objects I had thrown under the bed. Then I sat and waited for the inevitable knock on the door. When it came a few minutes later, right on cue, I spoke as normally as I could.

“Don’t come in. I think I caught a cold. I’m not feeling well. I’ll skip school today.”

“Oh, really? Shouldn’t you go to the hospital?”

I swallowed a bitter taste that rose in my throat.

“I’ll go later if I don’t feel better.”

“Well, okay. Should I make you some porridge?”

“Just leave it outside the door, please. Thank you.”

“All right, Jun. Just hang on for a bit.”

I decided to skip school. I wasn’t in any shape to go, and I had no desire to, either.

Thankfully, there was some ointment lying around in my room. I picked it up and slathered it over my aching body, wishing desperately for the pain to subside. Then I crawled back into bed.

The ointment tube slipped from my hand, and I threw it onto the floor.

My entire body shivered uncontrollably. But what hurt more than the physical pain was the humiliation. It was as if someone was pinching my stomach with tiny, cruel fingers. It was absurd. To hide my tear-streaked face, I blocked out all the light streaming in through the window and burrowed deep under the blankets. The only thing that felt like it could shield me from the crushing despair was the blanket itself.

I need to sleep. I have to sleep. Forcing my eyes shut, I told myself it would be fine. My parents didn’t know. Han Junwoo wasn’t the type to brag about what happened last night. It would be fine.

Thinking that, I buried myself deeper under the covers.

*****

Actually, it wasn’t fine at all.

Hidden beneath the blanket, I kept muttering words that lingered bitterly on the tip of my tongue. To anyone—God, my parents, anyone—I wanted to scream it out loud, like a waterfall pouring over the edge.

Please. It was Han Junwoo. Han Junwoo hit me. He trampled me. That bastard. Han Junwoo is insane. He’s crazy. He’s out of his mind. Just because of Han Taesan, he... After everything we went through in the past year, everything I felt for him... he crushed it. He crushed it right in front of Han Taesan. I’m an idiot. I showed that pathetic side of myself to Han Taesan, too. And the thought that someone might have seen it all...

I stopped my frantic train of thought. A wave of self-loathing surged within me. I wanted to die.

The saddest part was what I did after crying under the blanket. The first thing I did was scramble to delete every text and call record from last night that Han Taesan had sent me. Then, in a rush, I erased the CCTV footage from the gate, clearing all the recordings from early that morning. That night had become something I couldn’t bear to let anyone know about—a shameful secret I couldn’t allow anyone to see.

*****

I skipped school for three days. Despite my hideous appearance, my body was healing steadily.

Maybe it was because I’d managed to shield the more noticeable areas while being beaten, or maybe it was just that my well-nourished body wasn’t as weak as I’d thought. Either way, the visible injuries were minimal—just a few dark bruises hidden under my clothes, with nothing life-threatening. For those three days, I buried myself under the blankets, crying over and over again. I ignored every single message and call.

I thought I could hold out until I fully recovered, but luck wasn’t on my side. My parents, who had been away for a long time, suddenly returned home. I had no choice but to panic.

“...Son, what happened to your face?”

“Oh, well...”

“Did you get into a fight? I thought you said you were sick. You said you caught a cold.”

As my father peppered me with questions, I scrambled to come up with an explanation.

“Oh, um, I wasn’t feeling well, so a friend picked up the notice for me...”

“And?”

“And I... got into a fight on my way to get it.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t anything serious. I just... tripped and hit my face on the ground.”

“What kind of fight leaves a kid’s face looking like this? Who was it?”

When my father’s voice rose sharply, I frantically waved my hands to calm him down.@@@@

“No, really, I don’t want to cause any trouble. It wasn’t a serious fight. We’ve already made up.”

“Come on, tell me—why did you fight?”

“All those guys who were close to Han Junwoo totally got stabbed in the back.”

Eventually, the chatter often turned to me. I could feel their stares, but I pretended not to notice.

The rumor went: Kang Jun finally snapped over Han Junwoo’s gay antics. They fought, but since Han Junwoo is stronger, he beat Kang Jun senseless. Finally, the two went their separate ways. Even though I hadn’t sought out the rumors, they found their way to me as if they’d been waiting.

“Unbelievable...”

During the break after the second period, Kim Minho, one of Go Yohan’s friends, approached me while munching on a heated burger.

“Hey, Kang Jun, Kang Jun. Let me ask you something. Did you hear about this?”

We weren’t close. We’d talked a few times, but the air between us was always awkward. Most of the “things” people like Minho came to ask me about were outright nonsense. So, I just scratched my earlobe, unsure how to respond.

“Some guy from Class 5 said those two gay bastards kissed. Is it true?”

“Uh... where?”

“Dunno. But they wouldn’t have done it right in the middle of the street, right? Probably went somewhere sketchy to jerk each other off or something.”

Yeah, sure. I let his words in one ear and out the other, despite what he was saying.

“Gross. That’s seriously disgusting.”

“Right? Damn, those guys... at a school of all places. Someone needs to pour acid on their heads. Ugh!”

Like all other rumors, the source was unclear. But in the judgment of high schoolers, details didn’t matter when the story was juicy.

The boys present cursed and jeered. “No way that’s true, man! Shit!” But they still asked eagerly, “But really, where did it happen?”

Idiots. Do they really believe that? And yet, as Kim Minho talked, I couldn’t stop myself from imagining the two of them kissing. God, I really am pathetic.

“Now that I think about it, Han Junwoo hasn’t been screwing around much lately.”

“Maybe he’s overdone it so much his dick’s gone limp?”

Perched atop his desk, Go Yohan chimed in unexpectedly. He spun his empty ice cream stick between his fingers, his lips curling into a smirk.

“Wouldn’t be surprising. Guy doesn’t know when to stop.”

Even now, Yohan seemed to think this was all just a joke. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye and sighed. The vulgarity that had overtaken the classroom drew mixed reactions from everyone.

Some of the boys near Yohan pounded their desks or stomped their feet, laughing hysterically. Among them were a few who used to hang around with Han Junwoo. Yohan, meanwhile, dropped his ice cream stick onto the floor with a deliberate flick of his fingers, his grin widening.

“Or maybe he stuck it in some filthy hole, and it rotted off.”

The room fell silent. There was a sharp edge to Yohan’s voice.

“...”

Even I turned to look at him with awkward surprise. Amidst the chatter of thirty students, a strange atmosphere began to settle over the classroom. The conversations of those unrelated to the situation grew louder, as if to mask the tension.

I couldn’t tell if Yohan was joking or serious. I was sure everyone else was thinking the same. But Yohan didn’t seem to care. He scratched his chin with his thumb and spoke again, this time with his lips twisted.

“Fucking gay bastard. Ugh.”

Yohan jumped down from his desk. Not that it mattered—his long legs made it so the floor wasn’t far. He hummed some unrecognizable tune as he strolled leisurely through the classroom. We all just watched him.

Suddenly, he stopped and pointed at a desk.

“Is this... Han Junwoo’s desk?”

As if he didn’t already know.

He tilted his head, feigning curiosity, and we all felt the unspoken pressure. A few people nodded.

“Good. Perfect.”

His voice brimmed with satisfaction.

“You know, I’ve been dying to put this cocky bastard in his place.”

Yohan lifted his foot, and a dull thud echoed through the room. The weighty sound of something falling vibrated underfoot. Judging by the position and the sound, it was definitely a desk. And it had been Han Junwoo’s.

Yohan had asked deliberately. He wanted everyone to know exactly whose desk he was kicking.

“Yohan, you bastard! You’re such a jerk!”

“Wow, look at that asshole’s personality.”

The silence shattered as if it had never existed. Laughter erupted once again in the classroom. I caught a glimpse of a few textbooks scattered on the floor, still looking almost new. On one of them, scribbled in bold letters, was the name:

Han Junwoo.

The others who had been watching Yohan hesitated for a moment before speaking up.

“Man, Yohan’s such a dick. But damn, doesn’t it feel kind of good?”

“No way. It’s just you.”

“No, it’s not! Right?”

“Ugh, Minho, your tone is so annoying. Just like... Han Junwoo?”

“Fuck off!”

Minho and another boy, Lee Seokhyun, bickered playfully, clearly trying to impress Yohan. Right now, everyone in the class was laughing for Yohan’s benefit.

Yeah, I’d spent my life as the good son in front of my parents, a dependable student to my teachers, and a decent guy to my classmates. Being a loyal friend to Han Junwoo was just one more thing I’d forced myself to endure.

People like me, who build their lives so carefully, fear one thing above all: not the reality of having to live that way forever, but the idea that a single mistake could bring it all crashing down.

And how did I react? I smiled brightly.