Han Junwoo keeps pissing off. Damn it. Stop mixing and Go Yohan into your dirty relationships. What if Yohan starts suspecting sothing? I don’t want to be dragged down in this pyramid like you. I need to walk the high road at the top of this structure, you bastard.
“What’s the use in denying it? The way you two stick together says it all.”
“Ah, I hear poverty speaking. Sounds like a beggar.”
Yohan lifted his hand from my shoulder and jabbed his finger forcefully into Han Junwoo’s shoulder. Junwoo’s body staggered slightly from the push. "Beggar." I laughed without realizing it at that word.
“Whether we're close or not, mind your own business, loser. Worry about your dad in prison, please. Right?”
“Yohan, watch what you say. There are ways to silence you.”
“Please grow up. Can you imagine how much your dad is crying while eating his cold prison als? You’re broke. Having a son like you is worse than having none. Your life’s a total ss, really.”
“...Do you really want to die?”
Han Junwoo’s face lost all its composure. Yohan blatantly sneered down at him.
“What, like you could do anything after the beating I gave you?”
“Pfft!”
His expression was so ridiculous that I burst out laughing. I quickly covered my mouth with my hand as I turned pale, looking up at Junwoo, but I couldn’t stop laughing. His face turning red and blue was just too funny. The suppressed laughter crept through my lips again.
“......”
As I couldn’t stop my laughter, Junwoo seed even more infuriated. Knowing it would be better not to provoke him further, I struggled to close my mouth and tugged at Yohan’s clothes, pointing towards the road. Yohan, understanding my gesture perfectly, waved his hand.
“Yeah, go be a good son while you can. We’re leaving.”
“Hey. Yohan!”
“Yes. It’s Yohan.”
His mocking deanor was so amusing. But fearing a fight might break out, I desperately held back my laughter.
“Let’s just ignore him and go.”
At my words, Yohan curled his lips into a smile and lightly tapped my arm. Although we could hear Han Junwoo cursing our nas from behind, what’s there to fear from the barking of a defeated dog? It was just funny.
Suddenly, I looked back at Han Junwoo. His eyes, which I thought were lethargic, held a look of inferiority as he glared at us. Unable to rush at us, he just trembled while clenching his fists.
Han Junwoo, whose father went to prison. Han Junwoo, who beca a beggar overnight. Han Junwoo, who was ostracized in the class. His situation was so laughable that I couldn’t help but smile. Now that there’s no need to watch this beggar anymore, I slowly turned my head to face forward. It felt exhilarating. Han Junwoo. You're finally cursed.
****
Yohan sotis takes my side. His unpredictable nature does make wary, but at least I’m not abandoned for hanging out with Han Junwoo’s group, thanks to Yohan. Therefore, it’s only natural, not rationalizing, to express gratitude to him. With that thought, as soon as we left the school alley, I said to Yohan.
“Hey, are you going to eat lunch at ho?”
“It seems I must.”
But Yohan’s expression wasn’t great. He doesn’t want to go ho.
I rembered the mont Yohan said he hated his father. Why does Yohan hate his father? The thought was brief. I concluded that it wasn’t important to . Instead, I decided to show him a little kindness, which felt strangely liberating. My voice lightened.
“How about eating at my place?”
“Your house?”
“I’ll ask my mom to make tteokbokki. My mom's tteokbokki is really good.”
“Oh, tteokbokki.”
Yohan’s arm ca closer around my neck. I looked at him with slight anticipation, and Yohan smiled brightly.
“Sure.”
I smiled back in response. The recent scuffle seed like a distant past to us. Han Junwoo's pathetic figure beca the butt of our jokes as we ate the tteokbokki.
After lunch, we hung out in my room. Though we said we were playing, we just lazily sprawled out and chatted about nothing important. The emotions I felt when I first let Yohan into my room were tornting now. I definitely used Yohan as a side dish back there. A guilty heat bothered my stomach. I didn’t even look towards the neatly arranged tissues on my desk.
I pulled out my English vocabulary book, and Yohan took out a comic book from his bag.
“Faraway Neighbors.”
“Studying world history.”
“...Right. Work hard.”
Yohan grinned broadly and nodded vigorously. I blankly watched his smile, and only after a long ti of him reading the comic did I hurriedly turn my head away.
What am I even doing?
I shook my head and sat down below the sofa. Then, Yohan sprawled out on top of the sofa. Despite our pretense of studying, we occasionally exchanged short conversations. Yohan started them, and I kept them going.
The intermittent silence during our talk made dizzy. When Yohan didn’t continue, I wondered what to say next.
Our topics were typical of high school students. Grades. Annoyances. And guys like Lee Seokhyun or Kim Minho. The discussions always ended with, "How do these bastards even plan to live?"
I don’t understand. If you're poor, shouldn't you study to find a way out? If you're lucky to get into a good school, shouldn’t you be grateful for that luck? I find the "live for the mont" mindset bizarre.
“I really don’t get it.”
Yohan agreed with as usual. I responded without hesitation.
“ neither.”
I leaned back on the sofa. Then I saw Yohan’s high, sharply pointed nose, unlike Han Junwoo’s slightly rounded one. Saliva uncomfortably crossed my dry throat. I moistened my mouth and then spoke.
“Did you know? Kim Minho has six siblings.”
“That’s a damn lot.”
“He might not go to college because of his siblings. He said it’s hard to even pay for tuition.”
“He shouldn’t bother with college anyway. Where’s he going to waste that money?”
“Right, he lives in that neighborhood.”
I was talking about the neighborhood across from mine. Yohan pretended to be shocked. He was only verbally surprised, but his eyes and hands calmly turned the page.
“That’s sad.”
“Yeah. Sad.”
This "sad" wasn’t a call to action. It was just acknowledging that there are examples around us that we should never emulate, and I would never end up like that.
The conversation halted again after Yohan’s remark. I turned back and morized the English words on the table. While my eyes read the words, my mind thought of what to say next. There was nothing left to say. The silence was unbearable.
But if I continued to lead the conversation, wouldn’t I appear too desperate? I didn’t want to seem too attached to this relationship. With that thought, I decided it was better to just keep my mouth shut.
But it was really hard to endure.
The ticking of the clock echoed through the quiet room, accompanied by the faint rustling of pages being turned. What should I say? Maybe I should just suggest having a snack to break the silence. What kind of expression does he have right now? My thoughts drifted aimlessly. Just as I could no longer endure the silence and was about to speak—
“Jun.”
I imdiately shut my mouth. Then, pretending to be focused on studying, I responded.
“Yeah?”
“I hope we’re in the sa class next year.”
What? I turned to look at Yohan. At so point, he had placed his book on his chest and was staring up at the ceiling. I swallowed down the trembling in my voice and answered. A strange sense of anticipation swelled inside .
“M- too.”
“Without Han Junwoo, Han Taesan, Lee Seokhyun, Kim Minho, Kim Seokmin—all those losers. Just you and . And none of those people like Ahn Jisoo either.”
What’s with him? The corners of my mouth twitched involuntarily. I almost let myself be too happy. I lowered my head, trying to suppress the emotions that threatened to rise. With my now-cold hand, I rubbed the back of my neck.
“…Without Ahn Jisoo, I’d have a better shot at being first in class.”
“You were first even with Ahn Jisoo around.”
“I think I just got lucky.”
“No. It was your skill.”
“Thanks for saying that, even if you don’t an it.”
Still looking up at the ceiling, Yohan let out a quiet laugh. He had a way of building up. He had been like that ever since I first t him. Subtly, Yohan had always been lenient toward . He seed to have a fondness for model students, those who excelled academically. Looking at it now, Yohan was quite the old-fashioned traditionalist. That sa guy tapped the book resting on his chest a couple of tis and said,
“Are you grateful?”
Yohan turned slightly, lying on his side on the sofa, propping his head up with one arm. His narrow eyes fixated on . It was the sa feeling I got when I first t him in our freshman year of high school. Those snake-like eyes.
“…Y-Yeah.”
“Then does that an you like ?”
“What?”
What the hell is he saying? How does "thank you" turn into "I like you"? My heart pounded from the sudden leap in logic. Those narrow eyes, that sharp nose, that dark, unreadable face—everything about him was provoking .
I— Like—
I almost let it slip.
At that mont, my head turned cold. The dilemma that had been festering inside finally found its answer in that instant. My vision spun, and at the sa ti, despair sank in. I tried to smile naturally as I answered.
“Of course. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“Ah. Friends.”
At my words, Yohan simply smiled silently. Then he picked up his book again and continued reading. The conversation we had just shared passed as if it were nothing more than an ordinary exchange. The conversations that followed were much the sa. The only thing that wasn’t normal was . My workbook remained on the sa page, untouched.
We continued talking about trivial things until dinner. After eating, Yohan grabbed his bag, saying he should start heading ho. I quickly got up.
“You’re leaving now?”
“Yeah.”
He answered while checking his phone screen. His response felt indifferent, which left unsettled. The mont I recognized what that feeling was, a dull headache set in. All I wanted was to get away from this situation. Pressing my heated forehead, I muttered,
“Alright, see you.”
“What’s with you?”
But his voice, stuffing his phone into his pocket, sounded full of dissatisfaction.
“Aren’t you going to put on a coat?”
“…Why would I?”
“You need to walk ho.”
“What kind of guy walks another guy ho? You live nearby anyway.”
“…Nearby?”
The excuse sounded reasonable—at least to . Avoiding his gaze, I scratched at my neck for no reason and stared at the floor. Yohan stayed silent for a long ti before suddenly letting out a chuckle.
“Don’t go around telling people we’re friends.”
“…What?”
That was an odd thing to say at this mont. I imdiately flared up.
“What, just because I’m not walking you ho, I can’t call you my friend anymore?”
“For a friend, you don’t seem to care about at all.”
Yohan tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. Unbelievable.
“…Yeah, right.”
His soft, muttered words hit harder than expected, making feel both indignant and guilty. It was like he was accusing .
“Why? Not walking you ho ans I don’t care about you?”
“That’s not it, but you really don’t care about .”
“I do.”
“Really? Then tell , which idiot doesn’t even know that their friend lives next door?”
…What?
My mind blanked out completely. On reflex, I lifted my head and looked at Yohan’s face. The corner of his lips curled upward, mocking . It was such an ambiguous expression that I wasn’t even sure if he was actually smiling. His light laughter brushed past my ears and disappeared into the air.
“I an, yeah, I did lie a little for fun. But seriously, how have you not figured it out until now?”
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