The Comic Book Cafe
We came to a comic book cafe. Then again, where else was there even for us to go?
This is all Go Inseok's fault. The second he said "let's rest up for a bit," my brain went ahead and pictured the whole motel-equals-banging scenario without asking me first.
"...?"
Hold on—shouldn't that be something I can't even afford to think about? Sure, two guys walking into a motel is one thing, but the moment it connects to banging, I have to wonder if something in me isn't broken somewhere.
Rustle, rustle... plop!
The moment Yeonwoo claimed a booth, he peeled off his puffer jacket and scarf and settled in. And there was one thing here I couldn't let go without saying.
"Y-you're wearing stockings under there?"
The long skirt and boots had hidden them, but there they were—black stockings, worn with absolute confidence. Is this guy actually insane?
"What else am I supposed to wear?"
"Normal socks would do?"
"With boots?"
"W-wait, really? Then... longer socks, maybe?"
"With boots?"
"..."
When every counterargument gets swatted down in one breath, there's nothing left to say. Well, excuse me for never having worn women's clothes myself. I'd thought I'd grown fairly used to the crossdressing by now, but when he pulls a move like this out of nowhere, flustered is the only setting available to me.
Skirts and boots, I can manage to tolerate. I just picture the valiant warriors of Scotland and their kilts. But stockings are a different animal. They are an unambiguous fetish object. That faint peek of bare skin through the open weave is a certified turn-on point by anyone's standards.
Nope, nope, nope! My mouth had run off on its own for a second there. The object of arousal is, always and only, the stockings—never Joo Yeonwoo himself. And I doubt Yeonwoo was even trying to bait anyone's gaze with that alluring thigh line and those slender ankles. Therefore, problem solved! I am not turned on. Not even a little.
"Then at least straighten your skirt out? What are you going to do if people see?"
"Nobody can see."
"What do you mean, nobody? It's riding the edge of indecent right now and it's driving me crazy."
"It only looks that way because you keep trying to sneak peeks."
"M-me? Sneaking peeks? Have you lost your mind? Hey! What would I even be lacking that I'd need to peek at that?"
"I want a drink."
"..."
Only now, finally, did Yeonwoo smooth down his skirt—and, in the same breath, dispatch me on a drink errand. I trudged to the counter, ordered the drinks, and picked up a lap blanket on the way back.
"Ha... here, at least take this."
Only after draping the blanket over his knees did I finally breathe easy.
"Heh-heh..."
You've worked a person to the bone; the least you can say is thank you. So why is he flashing that sly fox smile, the corners of his eyes curling down all sweet?
"Wait, something's weird here."
"What is?"
"Your outfit. I couldn't tell with the coat on, but doesn't it look oddly like a school uniform?"
"Our school's uniform never looked like this."
"Who said anything about our school? This looks more like..."
A girls' high school uniform. The skirt runs a little long, granted, but take it as a deliberate selection of pieces meant to pass as everyday wear, and that's exactly what it adds up to. Because no matter how far Yeonwoo wants to push the crossdressing, actually getting his hands on a real girls' high school uniform crosses into criminal territory. If he's working off a lifetime of being stuck in all-boys uniforms, it weirdly tracks.
"Sleepy..."
Slide...
He said he wanted to rest, and true to his word, the strength drained out of his whole body before he'd even cracked open a manga. The problem: with a perfectly plush cushion sitting right there, he specifically chose to lean against me.
"Haah... do we really have to do it like this?"
"If it bothers you, go sit over there."
"Where else am I supposed to go, genius? You've already hogged more than half the booth."
"Why are you cranky...? I paid to get in here. Can't I even sleep how I want?"
"..."
Put that way, I have no rebuttal. Given the gap in our finances, Yeonwoo usually ends up footing the bill. It just stings, that's all. A grown man who's finished his military service, reduced to freeloading off his... female friend...
"...?"
Hold on—not a female friend. A male friend. I spend every single day questioning this guy's sexual orientation, so why am I always the one getting confused first?
Chuup... chuup...
"...!?"
And then it happened. A bizarre sound seeped faintly through the booth partition: the sound of two people's lips sealed tight, sucking at each other—the thing polite society calls a kiss. So Joo Yeonwoo is not, in fact, the only lunatic in this establishment. This isn't some room salon, you know. You're corrupting public decency in a semi-open comic cafe?
Chuup... haah...
Maybe it's because we're tucked into the far end of the store, where foot traffic thins out—because now they've graduated to moaning outright. Squirm, squirm... Thanks to them, I got worked up too, everything below the belt going rock hard. I was already losing it over the scent of Yeonwoo's shampoo right against me—why do you two have to pile on...
"...?"
Why am I thinking about Yeonwoo at a time like this? To whip my scrambled head back into order, I turned toward him.
"G-gah, you scared me! Why are you staring at me like that?"
And why is Joo Yeonwoo pulling this stunt? I thought he'd dozed off leaning on me, but no—chin propped on my shoulder, eyes wide open, staring right at me.
"I hear a weird sound..."
"R-right? So you heard it too, huh? Sounds like something sketchy going on in the next booth."
"..."
You ask a question, get an answer—shouldn't there be some reaction to the answer? Instead, all he does is keep staring, those signature unfocused eyes glinting, endlessly. But keep that up, and I'm the one who ends up looking away first...
"A-anyway, what about you, Yeonwoo? Do you come to places like this with your girlfriend too?"
"Fuck... I told you not to bring up my girlfriend."
"When did you ever say that? Guys are always dying to know what their friends get up to with their girlfriends—it's basic bro law. So? Did you bring her here?"
"I did."
"Yeah? So you two sneak kisses like that couple over there, too?"
"Why the hell would I do that, you perverted freak!"
Wham, wham!
Suddenly stone-faced, Yeonwoo started hammering my shoulder. What, did I say something so unspeakable?
"Why are you getting all prudish about it, huh? Guys are allowed to have this kind of conversation."
"We don't do that."
"Then what do you two even do at a comic cafe?"
"Read manga."
"Y-you only read manga? Wow, you two must be impressively platonic. So you sit shoulder to shoulder and share one open book?"
"We each read our own thing, in our own seat."
"..."
Then there's literally no point in coming together, is there? Shut up in an enclosed space with your girlfriend—even if you stop short of that couple's kissing—shouldn't there at least be some light skinship? He's pressed this close to me, for crying out loud...
Then it was Yeonwoo's turn to fire one back.
"What about you, then?"
"Kissing? Like that has ever happened. You know that perfectly well—why even ask?"
Why am I suddenly getting pelted with facts? It's not as if this is mock-worthy material. I can't be the only guy alive to hit twenty-two without so much as a kiss, never mind a girlfriend... right?
"Heh..."
"...?"
Yeonwoo laughed. Not barbed, not teasing—just a small curl at the corners of his mouth, almost like relief. But come on... would it kill you to rib me like a normal friend? What have you been doing all those years, huh? How is a guy this hopeless with women? An ordinary guy friend would be flinging personal attacks and dragging me down to rock bottom—so why is he just sitting there, smiling to himself?
"Guess neither of us has ever done it, then."
"Neither of... wait. Hold on. You've never kissed anyone either?"
"Yep."
"..."
What kind of sad, chaste childhood friends are we? Fine, all-boys middle school, all-boys high school—but two full-grown men at a comic cafe, trading tales of never having had a first kiss? So that's what that smile was about earlier? He'd just been silently relieved that he wasn't the only kiss virgin in the world.
But something's a little off here. Fine, that's me—but why Yeonwoo? I heard he had a girlfriend more than a year ago. And it's since come out that there were at least two, which works out to six months or more apiece. And absolutely nothing happened? If I had a girlfriend that gorgeous, I wouldn't have let a single day go by without...
Nope, nope, nope! There my thoughts go again, slipping the leash. For one thing, Yeonwoo isn't a girlfriend; he's a guy. And beyond that, there is no reason whatsoever to plug him into a romantic analogy. Probably because we've been "going out" as friends for so long, my brain tripped over the wording. Therefore, problem solved! There is absolutely nothing wrong between us.
Riiing! Riiing!
My phone's popular today, of all days. For a heartbeat I wondered if someone had ratted out our comic cafe trip, but it's a call from an unknown number.
"Why aren't you picking up?"
"It's spam, guaranteed. What would answering it do for me?"
"Since when does spam call from a 010 mobile number? Are you hiding something from me?"
"What would I even have to hide from you...? Fine. I'll answer."
He was none too subtly hoping I'd take the call—or, to put it precisely, dying to find out who was on the other end.
"Hel—"
"Hello! This is Seong Hanbin, sophomore and vice president of the student council for the Department of Electronic Engineering at Seojap University. Would this be Senior Kang Taekgu, entering class of 2X?"
"Yes, that's me?"
"I'm calling to ask whether you'd be able to attend the freshman OT next weekend."
So it was an invitation to the freshman orientation—OT, as they call it—from a junior after all. From what I'd heard, an engineering-school OT was nothing but a grimy crowd of men drinking themselves sick and puking their guts out. Still, heading into school two years older than everyone else, I figured grabbing chances like this couldn't hurt.
"Yes, I'll be there."
"Thank you! I'll text you the account number—just deposit the OT fee there."
And just like that, the call wrapped up nice and easy. I lowered my phone and turned toward Yeonwoo.
Brr! Now what's your problem this time?
"What now?"
"You're going to that OT? Won't it be awkward, showing up there at your age?"
"It will be. But skipping the OT and then walking into classes cold would feel even more awkward, so I'm going."
"Girls will be there too. You're not getting your hopes up over nothing, are you?"
"Why is this guy so desperate to drag me down to his level? There's no hope to get up. My department is barely ten percent women."
"So ten women out of a hundred. When is it?"
"Next weekend."
"Not happening. I've got a sponsorship shoot that day."
"What's that s-... You don't have to shoot it that exact day, do you? Just go do it right now?"
"It has to be that day. If the sponsorship falls through over this, are you taking responsibility?"
"..."
I couldn't, obviously. What he pockets per ad is worth several times my monthly pay—how exactly would I cover that? In the end, I had to call Seong Hanbin back and tell him I couldn't make the OT. Seriously, what is it with this guy's money, that it can wall off even my most basic social life?
Ugh... something doesn't feel right. A bad premonition is creeping in—that the college life I'd started with such bright expectations is going to end up a total wreck, all because of Joo Yeonwoo.