Jinki had been surprised when Minho called him on a Monday night, asking for him to come over for tutoring on short notice. It had been weeks since he had last visited Minho’s home – since he had found Minho scrubbing himself raw in the bathtub, since Jinki had no idea what to actually do so he did nothing.

 

Of course, even as it was growing dark outside, Jinki said he would come over immediately. He packed up his bag and left an empty apartment behind for what he hoped would be a brighter environment. When Jinki stood outside the door to Minho’s house waiting to be let in, he was greeted by Minseok, who seemed surprised to see him. Jinki told Minseok Minho had called him over for tutoring. Minseok looked thoughtful, before he smiled the tiniest bit as he let Jinki in.

 

His slight hope for something brighter slipped away.

 

Jinki soon wasn’t surprised to find out Minho was in his room and had been since he got home right after school. Jinki had stopped by Minho’s school that day, hoping for some kind of change- some kind of normal. But, like usual the days he managed to stop by that high school, he watched Minho rush home that afternoon like he always did now. He then turned to leave Minho’s school, frown on his face while he clutched his bag tightly in the cold weather.

 

Any thoughts Jinki had that it was just one of Minho’s moods where he got extra sulky over something trivial were gone. Whatever this was it was much more than those times a young friend would mope and hide in his wardrobe while feeling down about lesser grades or upset over a sporting event.

 

Having no tutoring to do the past few weeks, Jinki would go help out at the bakery or be shooed off by parents to piano lessons, or most of all, to study. He needed it since it was his last year and they wanted more than anything for him to get into a good university. It’s what most their money went to, their only child’s education. It was important. Jinki blamed that for his lack of a social life, but he knew that wasn’t the real case. He just wasn’t very good at making friends and his fancy high school was somehow too good for a bake shop boy, or something like that. The few he had seemed to only talk to him during school hours, or there was the fact he dated twice, which made him feel a little more social, but then they would break up in the end.

 

Minho was the only one who seemed to stick around, even with years passing.

 

Jinki pushed all his personal stuff aside, quietly making his way to Minho’s back bedroom.

 

Minho was sitting at his desk, looking frustrated as he scribbled out some thing on his paper. He hadn’t seemed to notice Jinki opening his door, and when Jinki quietly called his name, Minho jumped, almost falling out of his chair.

 

It was something Jinki would have found amusing months ago. Now, it was sad. It was sad seeing Minho look at to him with wide eyes. Afraid. Jinki noticed Minho grow tense once he closed the door behind him, like a means of escape had been taken away. Minho’s eyes kept darting between Jinki and the door and his fists tightened, though Minho might not have even been aware of his actions. Jinki took a breath before pulling the door back open a crack, and soon saw Minho relaxing.

 

Jinki thought of walking over to Minho’s desk like he usually would, plop his bookbag down on the boy’s desk and wrap his arms around Minho’s small head teasingly. He wished he could touch his friend…

 

Jinki sat on the floor, back against Minho’s bed. He gave Minho his space. He pulled out his reading glasses, then books and papers from his bag to set on the short table in the middle of the room in front of him. He quietly waited for Minho to make the first move.

 

“I.. I can’t figure this out,” Minho’s voice was barely a whisper, but Jinki could hear the frustration in it.

 

“I can help you.” Jinki looked up, glasses tipped and writing stopped. He wondered if Minho had understood the deeper meaning behind his words, because he froze a moment, then went back to his book.

 

“Minho-ya,” Jinki softly tried a few minutes later. Without a word, Minho stood carrying his book and papers. He sat down near Jinki, but not as close as he used to, making sure the small table and Jinki were between them. He quickly shoved the book at Jinki and asked about the problem he was having. Jinki smiled, happy to see a little of the friend he knew again.

 

They spent over an hour working on Minho’s studies together. Minho commented in passing that his grades were slipping and he needed a lot of help, but he wouldn’t go into detail as to why, just he couldn’t focus much lately.

 

One thing Jinki hadn’t failed to notice was Minho moving closer to him over time, eventually siting right beside him like he usually did. Minho even gave a small laugh or two, Jinki trying to amuse the boy but had thought it would have fallen flat now. It made Jinki want to reach over and pull his friend into a hug. He wanted to demand the Minho he knew come back to him – to everyone.

 

He missed Minho’s smiles so much.

 

Jinki’s eyes widened when Minho had leaned over to rest his head on his shoulder. The room was suddenly too quiet and Jinki swallowed, unsure what to do or say. He didn’t want to mess up - make Minho withdraw further. It wasn’t very long before Minho quietly spoke though.

 

“Hyung, sometimes…” his voice became a whisper, “Sometimes I feel clean again.” Minho fidgeted, twiddling his fingers in an anxious manner, “But more often I don’t. Sometimes I’m afraid I never will again.”

 

Jinki almost reached his hand to Minho’s head, but he stopped himself. “Won’t you tell me what happened?” he asked, so desperately wanting to know what hurt his friend - who took his friend away from him.

 

“I can’t tell anyone, hyung.” Minho moved away and pulled his book back into his lap. He scooted down from Jinki, “No one can ever know.”

 

Jinki bit back a loud sigh. He looked at Minho, instinct as an elder wanting to smack him over the head and demand to know what happened to him. He needed to stop withdrawing. Stop growing smaller.

 

It came in handy some days, Jinki’s inability to be socially normal. He blurted out, “Are you being bullied?” still knowing Minho didn’t want to talk about it at all.

 

The younger blinked wide eyes. There’s a pause, one Jinki was sure he hit the nail on the head with. Minho suddenly laughed, hand reaching to hide his mouth. He actually laughed, loud and voice cracking, a manner he hadn’t seen from Minho in what felt like forever. But why was he laughing? Being bullied wasn’t funny. Jinki could speak from near personal experience. He could speak from seeing it almost daily at his school with some kids. It happened everywhere, surely at Minho’s high school too.

 

“Huh? No.” Minho calmed down with a snort.

 

“Ah..” Jinki turned away, fingers fixing his glasses.

 

In a moment, Jinki forced s smile and pressed back to the subject of Minho’s schooling. By the time Jinki left, Minho had smiled at least once again. He didn’t touch Jinki again though.

 

Jinki walked home in the dark, unsure if things were better or worse now. He was far more confused. If not bullying, then what could it possibly be?

 

 

 

 

______________

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jinki figured things were worse when Minho hadn’t talked to him for a week, but he had been called back for tutoring again the next Monday. Jinki hadn’t pressed much for any information on what happened to his friend this time.

 

They just studied. It was almost like usual. It grew closer. Minho smiled more, talked more, even touched Jinki a few times. But Jinki wouldn’t touch Minho back, didn’t take his hand to guide it to the correct answer like he had in the past, and Minho seemed to understand that and appreciated it. Jinki would wait until Minho was ready.

 

 

 

 

 

______________

 

 

 

 

 

“Dad hates me,” Minho said one evening while they studied, sitting across from each other at the table on floor. Minho’s head was lowered still looking at his book when Jinki’s head shot up to look at him. Jinki hoped he misheard Minho. The tone of voice, so level, like it lacked real emotion, made Jinki sure he heard wrong.

 

“He doesn’t want to be around me anymore.” Minho flipped a page of his book as if he were actually focusing on it, and Jinki’s heart fell knowing now he hadn’t misheard his friend. “It’s okay though. I understand.” Minho finally looked up with a sad smile. He looked back to his book, pointing at something, “I don’t get this part.”

 

And that’s was all they talked, or rather Minho talked about his father. They were back to pretending everything was fine and they were just studying as usual.

 

They were pretending.

 

Minho was pretending.

 

 

 

 

______________

 

 

 

 

 

“Hey!”

 

Jinki stopped and turned to find a younger boy running after him as he left Minho’s school, not even finding Minho coming out of the building today. The teenager looked Jinki’s uniform over, noting the school logo different than his own, then asked:

 

“You’re Minho’s friend, right?”

 

Jinki smiled, as if proudly. “Yes.”

 

“Do you know why he’s quit coming to soccer practice?”

 

Jinki’s smile fell. “No. I’m sorry.” He lied, sort of, he didn’t really know, but he knew something wasn’t right anymore.

 

The kid looked annoyed, if not a little sad. “Tell him we miss him, eh? That tall brat needs to come back.”

 

Jinki forced a smile and told the kid he would do what he could before walking away, another afternoon spent without Minho. Jinki stopped at the bakery shop instead of going back to a lonely home. He debated wandering around the hangouts of classmates, see if anyone noticed him and asked him to join them. He was reminded he might find an ex-girlfriend though, from a short lived relationship, and that made him hang back. Studying was best for him, that or reading. Jinki loved to read.

 

Later that afternoon, Minho called asking if Jinki was still coming over for their session the next evening. Jinki told him he wouldn’t miss it, making Minho laugh and Jinki smile.

 

 

 

 

______________

 

 

 

 

 

“You have a cold still?” Jinki asked, feeling a bit chilled himself in the breezy weather. Minho had actually approached Jinki outside his school, giving a small wave.

 

But today only big distinctive eyes, puffy in bags heavier than usual, peaked out from above a mask, before Minho tugged half it off his face, revealing a slight smile as his gaze drew downward. He now made eye contact look so difficult, painful, it was hard to comprehend it coming from someone usually so outgoing.

 

Jinki noticed Minho wearing one of those masks more often than usual; actually, he couldn’t recall the last time Minho wore one. It seemed years ago. Was he really that sick? Was he still suffering from a cold, the one his mother had given him throat medicine for weeks ago?

 

“Kind of,” was Minho’s less than explanatory answer. “I’m sick.”

 

Jinki watched Minho fully pull the surgical mask off and shove it in his backpack.

 

Could all of this behavior be from an actual cold?

 

“Wanna go by the arcade or something..?” Minho asked, but didn’t sound very excited.

 

Jinki agreed.

 

The hour they spend there was pitiful at best. Minho looked like someone trying to have fun, trying really hard, but he couldn’t, he wasn’t there, not his mind. So many fumbles, so many fake smiles.

 

Jinki wasn’t sure he ever wanted to g to the arcade with Minho again if that’s how it was going to be now.

 

The pretending game, whatever it was Minho was doing, was wearing thin.

 

 

 

 

______________

 

 

 

 

 

Jinki watched from the crack of Minho’s door.

 

A mother was tightly hugging Minho, whispering to him. Jinki couldn’t make it out, but he watched Minho raise his arms to hug back. But then they stopped, shaking slightly before dropping loosely to his sides again.

 

Minho seemed to only stiffen further.

 

Jinki pulled away from the door.

 

 

______________

 

 

 

 

 

“Do I look pretty, hyung?”

 

Jinki was taken aback by the question from Minho, who had been quite most the evening, though that wasn’t unusual these days. “Umm..” Jinki lowered his book and then glasses he wore, giving Minho a look over, which not only made Jinki uncomfortable, but he could tell it made Minho too.

 

Jinki wasn’t sure if he would call Minho pretty, it seemed an odd word to use for a boy, but this was the first time he had seen Minho in short sleeves since before that night. He only had small dark spots covering his thin body now, like they could be accidental injuries during any sports game. He was healing. “If you’re asking if you’re good looking, then yes.” Jinki smiled and shoved his glasses back up. It was always nice for anyone to hear how they’re attractive, Jinki figured. He knew he liked to hear it. Human nature.

 

“You wouldn’t say pretty?”

 

“Isn’t that for girls?”

 

“Yeah..” Minho looked away, tip of his pen pressing to his mouth in a habit of biting it.

 

“You’re a boy. You’re handsome.”

 

Jinki’s heart raced though, a very distinguishable adam’s apple quivering with a hard swallow. Something he buried at puberty, no before even that, tried to claw its way right back out of him. No. Boys were boys and girls where girls. It’s black and white, that’s how Jinki wanted to live his life, just like everyone else.

 

Minho’s face was unreadable. At least until he faintly smiled; lips spreading over small teeth, long lashes fluttering in a slow blink of big eyes, and his head was quickly lowered to go over his papers.

 

Though like that, Jinki had a fleeting thought, maybe Minho was a little pretty.

 

Jinki had thought Minho was kind of cute for a long time, but it didn’t mean anything, not cute like a girl of course. A friendly sort of cute, like best friends, whatever that meant.

 

So pretty? That didn’t seem too much a stretch. Minho was growing up, maybe puberty better to him than Jinki with his own chubby body, bad acne breakouts and poor eyesight.

 

Whatever, it was probably a throwaway comment. Jinki shoved it to the back of his mind.

 

 

 

 

______________

 

 

 

 

“Why did you stop playing soccer?” Jinki finally asked one evening. It was so odd, why would he stop? He had such a passion for it, more than Jinki did with music, yet Jinki still played piano. It’s just what they did. Learned at a young age. So why would it all halt on Minho’s side?

 

Minho quickly looked at him. He seemed surprised by the question. “How.. who told you?”

 

“One of your teammates asked me why you weren’t playing anymore.”

 

Minho’s eyes narrowed. He was angry, or appeared so. It was so sudden, out of nowhere to Minho’s recent subdued moods. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter anymore. Forget about it,” was Minho’s sharp answer. He lowered his head with a scratch of his long neck and bouncing of knees beneath the table, as if to tell Jinki that was the end of the conversation. But moments after his gaze lifted to Jinki, any irrupted attitude completely gone. Eyes were big and pleading now, a low voice small again, speech slurring in a nervous lisp. “Please- please don’t tell anyone. Don’t… tell them.”

 

Jinki knew Minho was referring to his family, a family quite devoted to the game of soccer. Jinki chewed his lips before telling Minho he wouldn’t. He received one of the brightest and most genuine looking smiles from Minho in far too long.

 

Jinki wished his returning grin was just as real.

 

 

______________

 

 

 

 

 

Jinki took a bite of the warm, bready snack Minho’s mother kindly brought them while they studied. He was glad Minho hadn’t shut him out after asking about soccer. He was pleasantly surprised he hadn’t been, actually.

 

He smiled happily at his food; the warm food really was refreshing after an hour of work. Jinki turned his head at the sound of Minseok laughing and talking to his mom. He looked to Minho, who was also staring at the door. The younger had barely touched his food and now he just looked sad.

 

“I miss him,” Minho said, head lowered while he poked at his barely touched food.

 

“He’s right out there, go see him.” Jinki smiled again and took another bite, not quite knowing what was behind Minho’s words. His brother was right outside the door. Go…

 

Minho looked back at the door. “I..” his head dropped, “I can’t.”

 

Before Jinki could ask why, like maybe it had to do with soccer again, maybe Minho didn’t actually want to play anymore and he was ashamed of it, the boys heard Minseok holler he would be back later and the front door open and close. Jinki glanced at Minho. He chewed, watching Minho continue poking at his cooling food.

 

 

______________

 

 

 

 

Jinki noticed how it seemed harder for Minho to concentrate some evenings. It had been for a while, of course, but it seemed to be worsening, too. Since the day Jinki had been asked to tutor by Minho’s mother for small pay, having heard enough that Jinki was in one of the prominent high schools, the kind that took a hard test to get accepted in by. Throughout Jinki had managed good grades, something parents were proud about. He knew Minho had a tenancy to get distracted and hyper, lose focus. He struggled expressing himself since a young age, even in schoolwork, and had teachers in the past keep him after class to try and help with his speech as well as expressing himself through his writings.

 

But this was a different loss of focus, and there wasn’t that hyperactive side derailing consideration like it usually did. Minho was too docile, too distant.

 

Jinki had gladly taken that offer shortly after Minho entered high school, even though Minho whined about it at first, like he was embarrassed, but Jinki was glad to spend time away from home to help someone else out, especially his friend. Besides, they would goof around sometimes, read comics and listen to music, instead of really study much.

 

Now though, Minho would quietly rub at sleepy eyes and yawn. Jinki had asked once if Minho was getting any sleep. It was obvious the question made Minho uneasy. He quickly forced a smile and said yes, dismissing any further discussion on his sleeping habits of late.

 

Still, Jinki’s watchful eyes saw how tired Minho was these days. He was laggy, eyes puffier than usual, he even looked like he was losing weight, if that was possibly with how skinny he already was.

 

Minho was still too different from the boy he knew.

 

 

 

______________

 

 

 

 

 

Jinki glanced at Minho, who was hunched over reading his book and scratching absentmindedly at his arms, and occasionally his legs. It seemed like Minho only wore long sleeves and heavy layers anymore, even when the weather was warming up the slightest.

 

Always covered up now.

 

He wondered if he called Minho ‘pretty’, would that make his friend dress like he used to? Minho started scratching harder and Jinki held back from slapping his friend’s hands away. He was probably bleeding under his shirt by now.

 

“Hyung,” Minho stopped scratching, looking up at Jinki, “I’m not getting this part here.”

 

Jinki tore his eyes away from Minho’s arms, glasses fixed and smiled wide. “Let me see~.”

 

 

 

 

 

______________

 

 

 

 

One night, when Minho almost seemed himself again, they threw some stupid jokes around, tired of studying, though Minho just seemed tired in general. Maybe that’s why he seemed to loosen up. Jinki told a ual joke he had gotten from a classmate. It was like the light went out in Minho all over again.

 

Minho would have usually laughed at such jokes, had a good sense of humor. They would joke about their lives and lack of much actual dating experience. Why not? Take it too seriously and it only added pressure to social lives.

 

Now Minho grew stiff, as if he had never heard a dirty joke, as if he and Jinki had never curiously watched a few adult videos, ones kids whispered about at school, while alone at his place because parents were always at work. Minho wouldn’t look at Jinki the rest of the night.

 

All the jokes died after that.

 

 

______________

 

 

 

 

 

At least a month had past since Minho had first called Jinki back for tutoring a few times a week. They sat in Minho’s room laughing at some story Jinki was telling about a customer at his parents’ shop he encountered while working there recently. Or rather, Jinki was laughing while the other looked spacey and tired, when Minho’s lips were suddenly on Jinki’s mouth, silencing him.

 

Jinki pulled back quickly, eyes wide and shocked behind glasses. Maybe a little horrified, even. He wasn’t expecting it at all. Minho’s big eyes watched him, and Jinki was sure he could see the younger boy’s insecurity flashing through them, like he realized he made a big mistake.

 

Minho pulled away and drew his bony knees up. He was withdrawing again. “I think they were right.” Minho whispered, and buried his face in his knees, voice slurring pronunciation, as if a child again, though coming from a deep voice implied otherwise. “I’m shick- I’m.. there’s somethings wrong with me. I’m sick.”

 

“Minho,” Jinki tried to laugh, like it was a childish joke, adam’s apple bobbing in a thick gulp. “It’s okay.. You’re not sick.”

 

Minho lifted his head and it was obvious he was trying not to cry as he rapidly blinked his eyes. Seeing Minho cry, no matter if it was over a silly soccer game gone bad or an actual injury, never was easy for Jinki. “I am. I’m shorry I did that to you, hyung. I didn’t means- mean it.”

 

“Minho-ya,” Jinki reached a hand to Minho’s shoulder, feeling the boy flinch under him. He hesitated before saying, “It’s okay. You can kiss me if you want.” Jinki wasn’t sure if what he said would actually ease any of Minho’s pain, but for his friend, he could do that. It’s not like he hadn’t kissed anyone before. He’s had a couple girlfriends growing up, and Minho his first one not too long ago. They’ve both at least had one official ‘we’re dating’ girlfriend, as serious as early and mid-teens dating could get. Kissing, it was just mouths touching, right? Jinki’s first kiss wasn’t as special as he thought it would be, but happened, it was done, leaving him squirming a bit with suddenly tight pants he tried to hide. It didn’t mean anything like that if you didn’t want it to.

 

Then why did it still excite Jinki in the same way as kissing a girl he liked.

 

Why wasn’t he appalled, even if it was by a friend.

 

Minho looked up at Jinki with wide, confused eyes. “But I’m sick.”

 

“You’re not sick, Minho,” Jinki tried assuring. If anything, he wasn’t the sick one.

 

Jinki slowly pulled at Minho for a hug. Minho let him, making Jinki’s heart beat faster at the chance to finally touch his friend like before, in just a tight hug. He held Minho close, burying his face in the younger’s narrow shoulder. He missed his friend so much, why couldn’t he just tell Jinki what was wrong, why was he like this. Jinki didn’t really think, he let raw emotion drive him, brushing his lips over Minho’s soft cheek, feeling the boy tense slightly, but Minho slowly turned his head to meet Jinki’s lips with his.

 

Jinki wasn’t an excellent kisser by any means, he’s only gotten to kiss his former girlfriends several times during his short-lived dating experiences, but Minho didn’t pull away accusing him of failing. His eyes had closed, and Minho actually relaxed into the kiss, pressed forward to Jinki’s slight lead.

 

Jinki moved his hands to Minho’s neck and head like he had in past kisses, gently holding his friend while he kissed him back. Noses brushed and teeth bumped slightly behind skin, lips barely parted but mouths pressing to each other with warmth. And Jinki found himself starting to tingle at the tiny pleasure the kiss brought him. He thought he might like kissing, a lot, just not something he got to experience much. Whatever part of him minded kissing a boy was being shoved to the back of his mind, because this was what Minho needed, wasn’t?

 

Or did someone else need it.

 

Minho’s hands reached for Jinki’s shoulders. Suddenly Jinki was being shoved to the floor and Minho was backing away, eyes big and afraid. “Don’t.. don’t touch me.”

 

Jinki lay on the floor watching from crooked glasses as Minho hurry out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

 

He was horrible confused.

 

What had he done wrong?

 

Was it wrong?

 

Of course it was wrong.

 

Jinki sat up moments later and quietly gathered his things, shoving them in his bag. He sat in Minho’s room for thirty minutes, waiting for him to come back – anything really. He was too confused to do much else.

 

Nothing happened.

 

Jinki finally left the room, grabbing up his things. He slowly descended the stairs, looking to the front door he could just walk out of, but instead he turned the corner to find the room where the noise of a tv was coming from. He was surprised to find Minho sitting on the couch near Minseok while they watched tv. Or at least Minseok was, Minho looked like a lost child. He looked like he was resisting the urge to curl up or lash out.

 

“Jinki, you’re still here?” Minseok laughed, “I thought you left.” He turned to Minho asking, “Did you leave him in your room all this time?”

 

Minho barely glanced at Jinki, “Sorry. I forgot.”

 

“You forgot?” Minseok looked at Minho amused, but it was soon turning to concern.

 

“It’s fine.” Jinki tried to defuse any situation that could happen, “I fell asleep. He let me take a nap.” Jinki smiled with a forced yawn. Minho still didn’t look at him, but Minseok did, suspiciously in fact. Jinki quickly bowed his goodbye, he watched Minho as he pulled back up. Still his friend wasn’t looking at him.

 

Jinki quickly left the room before Minseok could ask him anything. He slipped on his shoes and sighed as he stepped out of Minho’s house. He hesitated in letting the door go behind him.

 

But he did. He watched it slowly close, then walked home.

 

Jinki probably just screwed everything up. He was only trying to help.