A raindrop landed on Minho's head. He grabbed his hair and looked up. There was hardly any light coming through the treetops, it was a dark grey that dwelled behind them. He blinked hastily as the rain took over and pelted down on him. Drop after drop hit his skin hard.

"Oh no, no, no!" Minho tried to bring the tangle of long blades of grass and colorful flowers to a halt again but the rain shattered it mercilessly. The individual tendrils disintegrated and plopped limp onto the dirty ground.

He had gotten up extra early. He wanted to surprise Taemin with an archway under which they could finally recite their vows. But once again reality had caught up with them. The drops melted into the salty tears on his face.

It was as if nature itself was against them. But why? Why couldn't he just spend his time with Taemin without getting in trouble for it? And out here, he thought, in the forest, their friendship would be safe, but even the rain had turned against them. 

"What are you doing?"

The sweet voice made Minho flinch. He wiped the tears from his face and hoped his eyes weren't too red.

"I...nothing. I have to go home." He said, looking down at his already muddy feet in shame.

"Already?" Taemin came up to him and Minho could barely withstand the sad look.

"You know my parents. They...they get angry when I come home dirty."

"Then stay here."

Minho looked over at his friend with wide eyes. What had he said? Minho thought about Taemin's words. Was this something he could do? Was that within his capabilities? His parents didn't seem to have any interest in him lately anyway. And his big brother didn't play with him anymore either. At home he was just lonely. But here he had a best friend.

"Don't go." Taemin came up to him and took Minho's hands, trembling with cold, in his. "We can play all day and build a hut."

He would love to build a hut with Taemin. Maybe then they could build a house and spend the rest of their lives there. But a hut, that would be enough to start with.

"Okay." Minho smiled. He didn't want to go home. He wanted to stay here with Taemin. He wanted to play with him and look into his eyes. All this made him happy. Taemin made him happy, and he made Taemin happy too. Why should he go home? After all, what had he missed there?

No one was happy to see him. As soon as he started talking about Taemin, his parents gave him that funny look. And recently Minseok had also started looking at him like that. Before, he was annoyed by Minho and , but now it was different. He didn't even anymore, he just sighed and looked at him as disdainfully as his parents did.

"Let's build a hut." He said determinedly.

Taemin nodded eagerly and together they began to gather fallen branches.

The first rays of sunlight peeked through the treetops and tickled Minho's nose. Slowly he blinked and looked around with tired eyes. With a smile, he looked at the peaceful forest. The leaves rustled gently in the whisper of the wind, he heard the birds gradually trilling their morning songs and the fresh air of the grass drove life into his limbs.

Next to him, still gently dreaming, lay Taemin. His long eyelashes fluttered gently back and forth with each of his breaths. He would have liked to snuggle close to him, but he didn't want to wake the lovely fairy, Taemin looked too peaceful. But he let his gaze linger on him. He enjoyed being able to look at Taemin so purely and naturally. His full lips that had caressed him all over last night. His delicate hands and slender fingers that had touched him, sometimes soft, sometimes dominant.

Minho smiled and slowly sat up. It was a warm summer morning. He tilted his head back and let the sun's single rays bathe his face. The warm beams slid down his body and only then did he realize that he was completely . Looking around for his pants, he stood up.

When he had put them on, he was overcome by a feeling he could not place. It was warm. He didn't need the pants. Taemin had seen him , had loved him . Why was he still wearing them? Humans were the only animals who covered their bodies. It seemed against nature for him to clothe himself.

A memory rose to the surface in Minho. His only friend at school was Key. But sometimes he couldn't help overhearing the other boys - not on purpose. But they talked so loudly and nonchalantly that it was impossible not to hear them.

It was after gym class. Some boys were standing around another looking at their mobile phones. They were making comments that Minho didn't quite understand. 'I'd like to touch that too' or 'She wanted it, why else is her skirt so short?'

But in Minho's mind none of this made sense. Back when he was still taking his pills he didn't understand, but he understood even less now. Surely the point was that a girl also wanted to be touched by someone in the first place? Why did these boys talk about her as if they were entitled to touch her body? And why did they ualize her body no matter what she wore? Wasn't it up to her to decide what she could and couldn't wear, whether it was a long or short skirt?

Minho couldn't help but think that people would be less reduced to their bodies if clothes were left out from the start. Then it would be normal. There would be nothing hidden or shameful. Perhaps people cou