CYY Chapter 1

It was fucked. Royally fucked.

That was Hyeon-oh’s first thought upon waking in an unfamiliar motel room. Despite the throbbing hangover and the headache that made him groan, the burning sensation in his lower back and rear—sensations he’d rather not acknowledge—paled in comparison to the overwhelming realization that he was utterly screwed.

Hyeon-oh glanced at the familiar warmth beside him. There, passed out with his mouth agape, was his childhood friend of ten years, Yoo Do-jin.

Who was Yoo Do-jin? A buddy he’d met in third grade at a local taekwondo dojo, a true “ball-sack friend¹”. At twenty-one, a student in the Physical Education Department at Korea City University, that childhood friend was now lying naked beside him. The realization sent Hyeon-oh’s mind into a spiral of chaos.

Then, the memories of last night came flooding back. Hyeon-oh let out a silent scream.

***

“Hey, drink up, drink up!”

It was a group date, one Hyeon-oh had been dragged to by Do-jin’s persuasion. To be precise, it was the after-party following the group date, with girls who’d shown interest in Hyeon-oh. But to him, it felt like another world entirely. With no intention of mingling, he quietly sipped his drink.

The atmosphere was bitter, especially since, apart from his decade-long ball-sack friend Do-jin, he had no close friends at the table. Originally, his college buddy Cheong-myeong was supposed to join, but Cheong-myeong had bailed on the group date, citing his new girlfriend.

Why did that bother him so much? A sullen mood crept in, reflected plainly on his face. He couldn’t even pinpoint why he felt this way.

“Hyeon-oh, are you in a bad mood today?”

A girl from the dance department, who’d started chatting with him at some point, asked. Normally, Hyeon-oh would’ve brushed it off with his usual charm, but the alcohol made him unwilling to expend energy on small talk.

“Just… not feeling great,” he replied half-heartedly, cutting the conversation short.

“Oh, okay,” the dance major retreated, unable to press further. Left alone again, Hyeon-oh slouched, nursing his drink.

Today, Cheong-myeong had skipped the group date for a date with his new girlfriend. Images of Cheong-myeong and some faceless girl being all lovey-dovey floated in Hyeon-oh’s mind.

His mood soured. He didn’t know why he cared so much about something that shouldn’t matter, but he downed his soju in one go.

Oddly, the soju tasted sweet today. The sharp burn in his throat made him wince. He kept drinking in silence, and time slipped by quickly.

Normally the life of the party, Hyeon-oh’s dour mood made the atmosphere awkward. The dance majors tentatively suggested wrapping up the night.

At the declaration that the gathering was over, Hyeon-oh couldn’t have been happier. Do-jin, on the other hand, was visibly disappointed. Hyeon-oh sighed as he watched his childhood friend eagerly exchange numbers with the girls, already planning the next meetup.

“See you! Text me!”
“Today was fun.”
“Let’s hang out again soon.”

The long night finally ended. Hyeon-oh craved a cigarette. Though he usually avoided smokes around non-smokers, that didn’t matter now. Even knowing it was rude, he lit one up. The dance majors’ expressions stiffened, but he was past caring.

Eventually, the girls left with frozen faces. Do-jin, who’d been trying to salvage the mood with his usual charisma, lowered his hand and grumbled.

“Dude, what’s with your face today? Did you kill someone or something?”

Hyeon-oh, perhaps due to his blurry vision or the round glasses his friend wore, silently took a drag of his cigarette. Even the bitter smoke tasted sweet today.

“This guy. You come to a group date, and instead of making friends or having fun, you sulk the whole time.”

“Shut up. I only came because of you, so zip it.”

Hyeon-oh muttered gruffly. Do-jin shot him a playful glare before breaking into a cheeky grin. He slung an arm around Hyeon-oh, who shuddered and shoved him off.

“Ugh, what’s with you? Gross, dude!”

“Come on, don’t be like that. Let’s drink more. More!”

Do-jin, who got clingy and whiny when drunk, slurred his words. Normally, Hyeon-oh would’ve sent him home to sleep it off, but the problem was, tonight, Hyeon-oh also wanted to get wasted.

In sync, the two friends stumbled into a cheap bar near the university. The food was mediocre, but the drinks were dirt cheap, a favorite spot for Do-jin and Hyeon-oh.

They ordered fried peanuts and stuck to soju. One bottle, two, three—the green bottles piled up. For two early-twenties guys who could hold their liquor, the table was soon littered with empties.

Their tongues slurred, and their faces flushed. At some point, they lost track of what they were even talking about. All they knew was that the clear alcohol was pulling their deepest thoughts to the surface.

“I-I’m just… upset…”
“‘Bout who? Cheong-myeong’s new girl?”
“Yeah… why am I so bummed…”
“You gotta fix that shit… makin’ everyone feel like crap when you don’t even know why…”

They mumbled, barely coherent, talking into the void. But it felt good to let it out.

“I… I mean…”
“Still on about that?”

Their slurred words were a mess. I-I’m… I like her… But even as he said it, Hyeon-oh wasn’t sure of his own feelings. Do-jin clicked his tongue and ordered another bottle.

Hyeon-oh, who could usually handle his liquor, and Do-jin, hardened by drinking with his phys-ed seniors, downed an impressive amount. The drunk duo sang loudly, cursed at random people, and made a scene. Do-jin was the first to pass out.

Hyeon-oh knew he should take Do-jin to his place, but the distance felt insurmountable. Drunk himself and weighed down by his unconscious friend, the journey to Do-jin’s apartment seemed impossible.

That’s when Hyeon-oh spotted a motel. He figured he’d use Do-jin’s wallet to cover the cost. With that hazy plan, they stumbled inside.

The room cost 70,000 won. Hyeon-oh swiped Do-jin’s card without hesitation. Thankfully, it went through. Assigned to Room 302, Hyeon-oh dragged Do-jin up and shoved their bodies inside.

“Dude, wake up…”
“Fuck off…”

Do-jin cursed groggily, half-asleep. But spotting the double bed, he tossed his glasses aside and collapsed onto it. Hyeon-oh, realizing he’d have to sleep pressed against his friend, mimed gagging in disgust.

Then, he actually felt like vomiting and bolted to the bathroom. Clutching the toilet, he retched everything out. Tears streamed down his face—physiological, he told himself, though maybe not entirely.

After sobbing and emptying his stomach, Hyeon-oh felt clearer. His mouth tasted foul. He brushed his teeth with the motel’s cheap toothbrush and barely washed his face. The alcohol’s haze lingered, but he felt slightly more lucid.

Or so he thought. It was a delusion. Something had clearly possessed him.

***

“Don’t… touch there… ugh…”
“It’s fine. Relax.”
“Ah, fuck, too big, you bastard…!”

Screaming silently and thrashing, Hyeon-oh rolled off the bed, hitting the floor with a loud thud. Despite the noise, Do-jin remained lost in sweet dreams.

Insane. I’m fucking insane. Hyeon-oh’s face burned red. The aching pain in his lower back barely registered.

Muttering “crazy, crazy” under his breath, he scrambled to grab his clothes from the floor, dressing as if fleeing a warzone. His frantic movements paused when he saw Do-jin’s clothes scattered similarly. His friend lay bare, draped in a sheet like a Greek god, his private parts on full display.

Hyeon-oh had seen Do-jin’s dick plenty of times at bathhouses, but never erect in the morning light. Knowing where it had been last night made it a far graver matter.

Groaning, Hyeon-oh hunched over, his rear stinging and his back feeling like it might snap. The vivid memories of last night told him exactly what had happened.

He stared, frozen, at his decade-long nemesis, sleeping with his mouth open. No way. His gaze dropped to Do-jin’s half-hard dick, traces of semen still on it.

No fucking way. He looked again, denying it. His eyes landed on the trash can, where a cheap motel condom lay, filled with semen, carelessly discarded. His rear throbbed. Curses spilled from his lips endlessly.

No matter how much he denied it, the memories surged back, undeniable.

I slept with him.
I had sex with Yoo Do-jin.

Unbelievable. He’d fucked his ball-sack friend of ten years. Not just slept beside him, but had sex.

In full denial, Hyeon-oh wanted to reject the cold reality. Could he really have slept with Do-jin? He knew the answer but clung to a shred of disbelief, staring at his friend with disgust. Seeing Do-jin’s face made him want to puke again.

Rage trembled in his clenched fists. How the hell had they ended up having sex? Reluctantly, Hyeon-oh forced himself to recall the night he desperately wanted to forget.

***

After vomiting his guts out, Hyeon-oh brushed his teeth with the motel’s toothbrush and returned to the bed. Do-jin, having ditched his glasses and passed out, was deep in dreamland. The alcohol’s toll showed in his slightly furrowed brow.

Sprawled across the double bed, Do-jin left no room for Hyeon-oh. Slurring, Hyeon-oh grumbled, “Move, asshole!”

He kicked at Do-jin roughly, but the phys-ed major, towering over 190cm with a body built like armor, didn’t budge, as if the kicks were mere tickles.

Hyeon-oh kicked harder, five times, before Do-jin groggily opened his eyes, his gaze unfocused and wild.

That should’ve been the first red flag. Normally, Do-jin would’ve cursed him out, but instead, he locked eyes with Hyeon-oh and grinned stupidly. Hyeon-oh should’ve realized then that Do-jin wasn’t himself, but drunk and exhausted from vomiting, he didn’t think deeper.

“Sorry, sorry,” Do-jin mumbled, chuckling as he shifted to make room. Normally, he’d never give in so easily, another clue Hyeon-oh missed.

Hyeon-oh collapsed beside him, regretting not requesting separate beds during check-in. A sigh escaped him. Like a wife fed up with her drunk husband after a decade of marriage, Hyeon-oh turned away, refusing to face Do-jin, and tried to sleep.

But Do-jin’s hand stopped him. A sneaky touch slipped between Hyeon-oh’s arm and ribs, and Do-jin’s intense gaze prickled the back of his neck.

“Why’re you turning away?”
“‘Cause I can’t stand looking at you.”

Hyeon-oh’s voice was hoarse. Do-jin let out a low, rumbling laugh, not his usual obnoxious cackle but a suave, deliberate one. Fucking weirdo. Hyeon-oh swallowed the insult and tried to close his eyes.

But Do-jin’s hand wouldn’t let go. It slid naturally, wrapping around Hyeon-oh’s waist. Panicking, Hyeon-oh grabbed Do-jin’s wrist.

“Are you fucking crazy?”
“Why so cold?”
“Cold, my ass—!”
“That’s what makes you charming. I like guys like you.”

Do-jin’s arms and legs enveloped Hyeon-oh completely. Goosebumps erupted across his skin. His body stiffened at the warmth of Do-jin’s body pressed against him. Do-jin inhaled deeply, burying his nose in Hyeon-oh’s neck.

“You… smell really good. Like skin.”

Let go, you lunatic! Hyeon-oh thrashed, but his usual crude banter with Do-jin failed him in his panic. The sensation of lips brushing his neck—definitely lips—sent shivers through him.

His body froze, unable to scream. This asshole’s lost it. Hyeon-oh shook Do-jin’s arm, pleading.

“Dude, come on… Yoo Do-jin. doctrinal. Do-jin, snap out of it. What’s wrong with you?”
“Look at me.”

Hyeon-oh whipped his head around, startled. Do-jin’s heavy, sunken gaze met his. Swallowing hard, Hyeon-oh saw hunger in his friend’s serious expression.

But the tension broke when Do-jin suddenly giggled like a kid. His bright smile and handsome face could’ve melted hearts, but not Hyeon-oh’s—not his childhood friend’s.

“You’re really pretty,” Do-jin said.

Hyeon-oh forgot the situation, staring at Do-jin in disbelief. Do-jin kept grinning obliviously.

This was wrong. The only explanation was that Do-jin had eaten something weird. He must’ve drunk poisoned soju, though Hyeon-oh couldn’t recall spiking it himself, which was maddening.

“I’m serious,” Do-jin mumbled pathetically, almost pitiable.

Snapping out of his stupor, Hyeon-oh scoffed, trying to regain control. “Get a grip, Do-jin.”

Do-jin pouted cutely. He’s fucking lost it. Hyeon-oh felt nauseous again, realizing that being too dumbfounded could leave you speechless.

While Hyeon-oh reeled, Do-jin’s phys-ed strength easily turned him around. Facing each other, Do-jin locked eyes with him.

“Are you insane?”
“Hyeon, Hyeon, Hyeon, Hyeon-ji.”

Do-jin, too drunk to get his name right, made Hyeon-oh click his tongue internally. Regret hit him late—he shouldn’t have drunk this much.

But regret was useless now. Do-jin’s hand slipped under Hyeon-oh’s clothes. Goosebumps flared, but the touch on his sensitive back sent a jolt through him.

“Stop, don’t touch, asshole…!”
“You know… I’ve had a thing for you since the moment we met.”

The sudden, earnest confession froze Hyeon-oh. Since we met? That meant since they were white belts at the taekwondo dojo.

Stunned by his childhood friend’s bombshell, Hyeon-oh stammered as Do-jin’s hand moved to his chest. He snapped back to reality too late.

“Crazy, stop, there—!”
“Hyeon-ji, you’re too good.”

Do-jin’s touch on his sensitive spots drew involuntary moans. Hyeon-oh squeezed his eyes shut. The teasing of his pierced nipple, embarrassingly, was making him hard.

“Dude, fuck… ugh…”

His breathing grew ragged. He could feel Do-jin’s erection rubbing against his ass. Hyeon-oh panted, gritting his teeth.

What followed could only be described as insanity. Do-jin’s hands roamed everywhere.

The relentless touching got Hyeon-oh hard, and Do-jin toyed with him like candy on his tongue. Men are just animals driven by lust, they say, and with the constant stimulation, Hyeon-oh was losing control.

We’re both adults. One quick release, and it’s done. Just satisfying urges. There’s a condom here, so it’s fine, right? Over and over, they chanted it’s fine, until, drunk and delirious, Hyeon-oh started believing it.

Even as he thought it was crazy, pinned by Do-jin’s muscular frame and painfully hard for too long, his alcohol-soaked brain reasoned a handjob wouldn’t hurt. The stimulation was unbearable.

Touching, kissing, biting, sucking—it escalated like chugging soju with spicy chicken feet. Before he knew it, they were both naked, breathing heavily.

Hyeon-oh’s mistake was thinking it’d end with mutual touching. He was dead wrong.

For the first time in his life, Hyeon-oh fucked his ball-sack friend. Do-jin’s dick went where it had no business going. His erection reminded Hyeon-oh of a bottle of bokbunja makgeolli.²

***

Recalling it again, it was a deranged memory. Hyeon-oh’s face flushed. Seeing Do-jin passed out only fueled his rage.

The undeniable truth was, despite the splitting pain, it had felt good in the end. Hyeon-oh wanted to bash his own head in.

It was a drunken, reckless mistake, but good was good. Screaming silently, Hyeon-oh touched his lips, trying to calm down. Lost in thought, he caught himself replaying last night.

At first, he’d wanted to kill Do-jin from the pain, but by the end, he was crying out in pleasure. He’d wailed in ecstasy during his accidental sex with his childhood friend.

His face burned past the point of shame. Silent curses poured from his mouth.

His shattered rationality ran wild. Run away? But escaping wouldn’t mean never seeing Do-jin again. Take a leave from school? That wouldn’t erase him either. Fuck!

Hyeon-oh tore at his hair in agony. It was insane, no matter how he spun it. Drunk or not, there were things you did and things you didn’t. Last night’s him, thinking a handjob was fine, was certifiably crazy.

Then, Do-jin stirred, mumbling in his sleep. His half-erect dick, reminiscent of a makgeolli bottle, was hidden by the sheet, but his toned, muscular ass was now on display.

“You… you…!”

Rage surged. Unsure how to face Do-jin, Hyeon-oh couldn’t stop his foot from lashing out.

Thwack! His kick landed hard on Do-jin’s waist, the loud sound echoing. Do-jin curled up like a shrimp, groaning. Hyeon-oh found even that pathetic sight infuriating.

“Get up!”

Hyeon-oh shouted, his voice thick with grievance. The sharp kick must’ve snapped Do-jin awake, as he let out a pained groan. Clutching his head—likely more from the hangover than the kick—Do-jin whipped his head around, scowling.

Meeting his fierce, squinted eyes brought last night flooding back. Do-jin, eyes burning with lust, thrusting wildly; his ragged breaths, tender caresses, scorching body heat, and the flex of his chiseled muscles…

Honestly, Do-jin was good at sex. Hyeon-oh’s face couldn’t get redder. Stammering in embarrassment, he froze as Do-jin groggily opened his eyes, narrowing them.

“…What?”

Do-jin’s hoarse voice rumbled. Mumbling irritably to himself, he buried his face in the pillow before slowly lifting it again.

“What?”

The same question, but with a different tone. Do-jin blinked, startled. Hyeon-oh instinctively knew he was fucked. Seeing Do-jin’s shocked face, he felt lost on how to smooth over last night.

Embarrassment and awkwardness hit simultaneously. Hyeon-oh chewed his lip, staring at Do-jin, who looked confused.

Do-jin’s gaze flicked to his own body, then back to Hyeon-oh. Hyeon-oh swallowed hard, feeling every glance burn.

“Dude, uh…”

Deciding it was better to take the hit first, Hyeon-oh spoke, his voice eerily calm, like it belonged to someone else. He took a deep breath, exhaling heavily, and mumbled, “…Just… that…”

Despite his bravado, his words trailed off into a mumble. He couldn’t say it sober. Admitting he’d had sex with his ball-sack friend of ten years felt like absolute shit. The pain in his waist and rear surged back.

Unable to keep his head up, Hyeon-oh looked down. But Do-jin’s response, as he squirmed in embarrassment, was completely unexpected.

“Why are you here?”

“…What?”

Hyeon-oh’s head shot up, bewildered. Do-jin’s brow furrowed, either from the hangover or from piecing together memories.

Hyeon-oh fell silent. His jaw nearly dropped, but he quickly clenched it, studying Do-jin’s puzzled expression.

The passionate eyes from last night were gone, replaced by the usual casual gaze of a childhood friend. No trace of last night’s shame or embarrassment lingered in Do-jin’s eyes. Hyeon-oh pressed his lips together, rolling them inward.

What the hell? Unable to grasp the situation, he chose to stay quiet. Still frowning, Do-jin seemed to reach his own conclusion, raising an eyebrow.

“Come to pick me up?”

Hyeon-oh stared, dumbfounded. What the fuck is he talking about? Realizing his morning erection, Do-jin casually covered himself with the sheet, rambling.

“How’d you know I was here? Did I call you? Wait, why would I call?”

Two lightning-fast theories hit Hyeon-oh. First: This asshole’s too embarrassed and pretending it never happened. Second:

“…You don’t remember?”

His voice trembled with disbelief. Do-jin frowned briefly. Hyeon-oh felt a chill down his spine. After ten years, he knew that look—Do-jin was trying to recall something.

The second theory consumed him. His lips quivered. Trying not to rush, he spoke carefully.

“How much do you remember?”

“Me? Ugh, my head’s killing me. This hangover’s brutal. I was drinking with those Shinmyeong Women’s University dance majors… and then…”

“Doing it” didn’t mean drinking with the dance majors. It was a euphemism, a subtle shift in tone. Hyeon-oh bit his lip hard, unaware.

Memories from last night pieced together in his mind. Not fully clear due to the alcohol, but vivid enough. Do-jin, suddenly acting crazy, calling him pretty. Saying he’d liked him since they met. And crucially, calling him “Hyeon-ji” or “Hyeon-soon,” some other name.

No way. Hyeon-oh’s mouth fell open. How many times had he been shocked since waking? Unaware of his expression, Do-jin, as if struck by a thought, frantically grabbed his phone by the bed. The screen showed his contact list.

Do-jin let out a low groan, genuinely disappointed. He scrolled anxiously, muttering.

“Fuck, no way…”
“What?”

Hyeon-oh’s voice shook. Do-jin didn’t seem to care, burying his face in the pillow again and mumbling.

“I didn’t get her number.”

Crazy bastard. That was all Hyeon-oh could think. Do-jin’s memory was clearly scrambled, likely from alcohol-induced amnesia.

Hyeon-oh stood frozen, watching his childhood friend flounder. Not even in the army yet, and he’s digging trenches³ like a pro.

“Fuck, what do I do? I really liked her. Her name was Hyeon… Hyeon…”

Do-jin trailed off, scratching his head. Hyeon-oh’s face twisted. He couldn’t believe it. Do-jin didn’t remember a thing—not their drunken confessions, not the sex, nothing.

Hyeon-oh’s mind reeled. This fucker thinks he hooked up with some girl? The absurdity hit him like a truck. Do-jin, oblivious, kept muttering about “Hyeon-something,” clearly mixing up Hyeon-oh with some imaginary dance major.

“You… you don’t remember anything about last night?” Hyeon-oh asked, his voice low, almost a growl.

Do-jin blinked, confused. “What? Did I do something stupid? Oh, shit, did I puke on you or something?”

Hyeon-oh’s fists clenched. Puke? You fucking— He wanted to scream, but the words caught in his throat. The condom in the trash, the pain in his ass, the vivid memory of Do-jin’s hands all over him—it was all real. But to Do-jin, it was a blank.

“Fuck, my head,” Do-jin groaned, rubbing his temples. “I must’ve blacked out. Last thing I remember is you being all moody at the bar, then… nothing.”

Hyeon-oh’s jaw tightened. He wanted to punch Do-jin, to shake him until he remembered. But what would that solve? Admitting what happened would mean facing it himself, and he wasn’t ready for that.

Instead, he forced a laugh, bitter and hollow. “Yeah, you were a mess. Passed out, so I dragged you here.”

Do-jin squinted, suspicious. “You paid for this place?”

“Nah, your card did,” Hyeon-oh shot back, trying to keep his voice steady.

Do-jin groaned, checking his wallet. “Fuck, 70,000 won? You owe me half.”

Owe you? Hyeon-oh nearly lost it. The audacity of this clueless bastard. But he swallowed his rage, nodding stiffly. “Fine. Whatever.”

Do-jin yawned, stretching his arms, completely unaware of the storm in Hyeon-oh’s head. “Man, I hope I didn’t screw things up with that girl. She was cute. Hyeon… Hyeon-ji, maybe?”

Hyeon-oh’s eye twitched. Hyeon-ji again. He wanted to grab Do-jin by the collar and yell, That was me, you idiot! But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

“Let’s just… get out of here,” Hyeon-oh muttered, grabbing his jacket. His body ached with every step, a cruel reminder of last night.

Do-jin, still clueless, rolled out of bed, pulling on his clothes. “Yeah, I need a shower. And some hangover soup[^8]. You’re buying, right?”

Hyeon-oh shot him a death glare but said nothing. The weight of what happened sat heavy in his chest, while Do-jin prattled on about the group date, the dance majors, and his “mystery girl.”

As they left the motel, Hyeon-oh’s mind churned. He doesn’t remember. He thinks it was some girl. Part of him was relieved—maybe it was better this way. But another part, buried deep, stung with something he couldn’t name.

What the fuck do I do now?

The morning sun burned his eyes, and the pain in his body throbbed with every step. Behind him, Do-jin’s voice droned on, oblivious. Hyeon-oh clenched his fists, vowing to bury last night forever.

But deep down, he knew it wouldn’t be that easy.