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“Kim Tan is here,” Young Do’s dad announces, throwing the door to Young Do’s room open and then stalking away. He doesn’t knock, but that’s hardly a surprise. Tan’s never seen him do so.
But Tan’s not offended, he actually thinks that maybe there’s something to be said for the fact that he escorted him himself to Young Do’s room, even if he didn’t stay. Tan’s dad would never. Is Young Do’s dad worried about Young Do too? Or is it just another display of dominance? It’s not like Tan doesn’t know the way.
“Young Do,” Tan says in greeting, walking into the room, and if his voice sounds a little rough that’s acceptable. After what Tan told him on Friday, and then when Young Do didn’t come to school on Monday, he had come find him. He doesn’t think they’ve ever gone this long without talking before.
Young Do stares, he’s seated on the top of his bed, laptop tipped carelessly on its side next to him. “So is your mother a prostitute?” He asks.
Tan flinches a bit. He knows Young Do is mean; he’s seen him be a bully; hell, he’ s usually a bully with him, but he’s never felt it directed at himself. “No,” he replies.
Young Do scoffs a bit, staring somewhere over Young Do’s shoulder. “Are you here to make sure I don’t tell anyone?”
The thought never even occurred to him. “No, of course not, I’m here because— why weren’t you in school today? Are you—are we okay? Why are you acting like this?” Tan’s nervous, the words are spilling out. He says his name again because maybe that will help, snap him out of it. “Young Do. We’re best friends.”
Young Do laughs, and it’s hard, like he’s forcing bits of glass out of his throat. Tan’s only heard that laugh once before, and that’s when Young Do showed up at school with black eyes and claimed he tripped down the stairs. “I’m not your friend. You’re an illegitimate son. I don’t know you, liar.”
“I never meant to-“
“But you did!” And Young Do is clearly angry now, where he had just seemed mocking before. His hands twist in the blue comforter of his bed. Tan remembers sleeping over, curled under that blanket, and feels a pang at the idea it might not happen again. He knew this secret about his birth mother was a big deal, how many times had his father, his brother, reminded, demanded, threatened he keep this secret? But—how could Young Do react this way? He thought—
Young Do slams his fist down, onto the bed beside him, making a soft, surely unsatisfying thump of a noise. “Why did you tell me?”
“Because I- Because you’re my best friend.” Tan feels like he’s gesturing too much. “I wanted to, I want you to know because—“ Tan has to take a deep breath before charging on, uncomfortable with this kind of emotional reveal. “Young Do, you know, we’re—I trust you.”
It’s that laugh again. “Why shouldn’t I tell?”
What? Tan can’t read his face, but surely he’s joking, surely the answer is obvious, “Because it would hurt me, my family, because we’re friends—”
“What would you do so I wouldn’t tell?”
Tan’s mouth doesn’t drop open, but it’s a near thing. “Are you trying to blackmail me?”
“Maybe. Yes.” Young Do slaps his laptop shut, shoves it further down the bed, moves forward so he can plant his feet on the ground.
Whatever Young Do wants, Tan is sure he’d do anyway. Why is Young Do having such a hard time with this? It’s easy to agree, to shrug and say “Sure, what do you want?”
Young Do isn’t meeting his eyes. “You kissed Bo Na, didn’t you?”
What? How is that relevant? “Yeah, and I told you last week.” There’s too long of a pause. Tan tries to get back on track. “Young Do, I know you won’t tell, this doesn’t need to change—“
“I will tell! You don’t deserve— We can’t be, if—” Young Do takes several heaving breaths, closes his eyes. Tan can see his chest rising and falling, and he’s not exactly calm himself. He doesn’t understand.
“Are you okay?” Tan takes a few steps forward, reaches out, lightly rests his hand on Young Do’s knee, trying to get him to open his eyes and see.
Young Do’s eyes fly open, fly wide, but in the same jerk he whispers, too loud, “Kiss me.”
What. The hell? Why would he say that?
Tan feels like he’s swallowed an ice cube whole, his throat feels cold and stuck and weird. Is Young Do looking for practice? Practice kissing? But he must know Tan’s only ever kissed Bo Na and that was pretty short. “What?” he manages.
Young Do’s face is so red, but he looks committed now, “That’s what I want. Kiss me and I won’t tell.”
Tan’s hand where it rests on Young Do’s knee feels hot and uncomfortable now, but he keeps it there determinedly. “Are you gay?”
“No!” Young Do all but shouts, his leg shaking a bit with the force of his denial. “Are you?”
“No,” Tan replies, and he means it, he thinks, remembering Bo Na’s waist under his hands, her long hair. “Do you like me?” he asks, his stomach doing a slow roll. “Or something?”
“You’re a boy and illegitimate,” Young Do sneers, but that’s not a no, and Tan feels horrible.
“I don’t—“ the words feel heavy coming out of his mouth, and it’s a struggle to voice them. “Young Do— you’re my best friend, and I— I do like, uh, love you, but not—“
“Shut up!” Young Do snarls, and his hands dart up, knocking Tan’s hand aside and off as he yanks him close, hands pulling tight at the knit of his sweater, and it’s not like they’ve never been here before, close up in Young Do’s room, whispering, spilling secrets, plotting revenge, but it’s different because of Young Do’s eyes, his face a little blotchy from the vehemence of his words, from fear? And Young Do moves closer, until Tan can just feel his breath, his hands still shaking.
Both their eyes are wide open and it’s like a dare, a challenge, as Young Do’s lips touch his, just a brush, and Tan is pulling back before he even realizes what he’s doing.
It just feels so— wrong, weird, Young Do’s hands so strong and large and chest so flat, and he tries again to say something, but he only gets out the first part of Young Do’s name before Young Do lets out a noise like a sob and a snarl and pulls him in again, and this time it’s hard and mean and not really a kiss so much as Young Do’s mouth hitting his, his lips pushing as if they’re trying to burn through his head.
It’s horrible, so Tan steels himself and twists a hand up to Young Do’s neck to pull him back a little and gentle the kiss. Because he should at least try this, do this properly. He returns it, a little, fits their mouths together properly where he can suck pull a little at Young Do’s lower lip.
Young Do reacts like nothing he’s ever seen before, pulling back just the slightest with shining eyes. “Tan,” he breathes, pulling him closer, and Tan stumbles like fully between his legs and it’s too much. He swears he can feel Kim Tan’s dick, maybe, hard up against his thigh and that’s not at all— that’s wrong, not like in a gross way, but, kind of! Like, for him, that’s not what—
Tan conceded part out of curiosity, because Young Do so clearly wants it, part out of care for, part out of worry, but he can’t do this, he turns his face away, and they’re so close that doing so means his cheek brushes against Young Do’s mouth, and god, he pushes Young Do’s hands off, steps back, and he’s stronger than Young Do, he’s able to do it, able to leave him legs too open and panting and sort of collapsed on the edge of the bed.
“Fuck,” Tan swears, and it’s not good. “Young Do,” he chokes, “I don’t— I don’t like you like this.”
“But,” Young Do allows himself, and for the length of that word there’s so much hurt and confusion and vulnerability in his face. But then his mouth tightens, face shutters and clears; he yanks himself together and up and circles to the other side of the room, putting the bed in between them. “Leave,” Young Do bites out, and even though he’s using the same voice that made Myung Soo run away in tears the other day, there’s something in his eyes, somehow it just sounds sad.
“I’m sorry,” Tan says, because that’s what he’s feeling right now, more than anything, sorry that he can’t be a proper son, sorry that he can’t love Young Do the way he needs him to.
“You should be,” Young Do bites out, looking very small, and Tan aches.
What they just did is starting to sink in, he can’t believe what happened in this house where anyone, god, where Young Do’s dad could have burst in. But truly his fear is less of discovery than of losing Young Do, of this breaking them. “It’s okay that you, you know, that you like-”
“I don’t,” Young Do interrupts, crossing his arms.
“Okay,” Tan tries. “Are we friends?”
The look Young Do gives him is scathing.
“I’ll keep your secret,” Tan offers.
Young Do turns away. Tan can’t see his face, but he can see his shoulders shaking, hear his voice snarl out: “I’m not like that, and if you think you’ll be able-“
“God, Young Do, I’m not trying to blackmail you!” Tan told Young Do in the first place because he wanted to tell him everything, because “I want to be your friend.” And if he puts a little too much emphasis on the word friend then okay, he did, but he does.
“I won’t tell anyone about your whore mother.” Young Do replies, still facing the wall.
Tan clenches his fists, then lets them out slowly, breathes and tells himself this will all work out. “Thanks.”