Jiyong is 9 years old when he has his first run in with homophobia. He is on the other side of the playground, watching a kid in his class get cornered by the older kids because he said he liked boys instead of girls. At the time, Ji didn't understand it. He wondered what was wrong with liking boys, he liked boys. He liked girls, too, but he didn't see anything wrong with also liking boys. If they were nice, why did it matter? 

He didn't say anything though, because he was small and easy to pick on. He just watched, silently, as they closed in around the other boy. Fear started to prick at Jiyong's chest, worried for the boy, worried they might hurt him. Before it escalated to physical blows though, their teacher was coming outside and calling them in to go home. He was the first one to run back insinde and wait for his mother. He was just glad he didn't have to watch any longer. 

That night at the dinner table he asked his mom if boys were allowed to like boys, and instead of an answer she asked what brought that on with a look of panic in her eyes. Confused, he explained the scene he saw earlier, and relief flooded into his mothers features. Instead of giving him a definite answer, she said the older kids shouldn't have picked on him urged Ji to hurry up and eat his side dishes. 

The second time Jiyong deals with homophobia he is 13 years, and the boy he has a crush on holds his gaze for a moment too long. The other kids notice and when they question him about it, using crude language he's not familiar with, he panics and laughs it off. Tells them he thinks the other boy has a crush on him. He says it with disgust in his tone, but worry is already working it's way into his system. 

He's 13 and still doesn't know what's wrong with liking boys, but he does know that if you like boys it's in secret. You're not allowed to like them in public, because everyone else turns to harsh words and even harsher fists. 

After that, Jiyong learns fast. He doesn't show affection in public, at least not for boys. That's reserved to dark rooms behind closed doors in hushed tones and sloppy s. Affection for boys is a secret that you have to keep well, a skeleton in the back of your closet, a guilty pleasure that only you know about. 

That's the only love Jiyong knows, the only love he thinks he's allowed to have. The only love he deserves. 

After every fling, every , every sloppy encounter Jiyong can't help but come away from it feeling dirty. He wonders if that's what love is, dirty. Dirty, and seedy, something you're not supposed to be proud of. Sometimes he thinks it might just be him, that he's the only one everyone is ashamed of. If you asked, he wouldn't admit it, but he spent days crying in his room over it, wondering whether or not he was wanted. 

Three months of secret encounters with a boy named Changmin and Jiyong has his mind set. He walks into school that morning with a mission in his head, and he waits anxiously the entire day until he can walk confidently down the crowded hallway.

He reaches for Changmins hand, gripping it tightly and intertwining their fingers. For a split second, it's nice. Changmins hand is warm, and he rubs his thumb quickly over Jiyong's giving him a sense of relief, a sense of hope. Right after that a rough shove to his chest sends him down to the ground, knocking the wind out of him. His entire world is shifted on it's axis, and he can feel the tears prick at his eyes but they don't dare fall. 

"What the , ."

The words ring inside Jiyong's skull, and everyone is watching them, snickering and whispering. The tears are deathly close now, and the only thing Jiyong can do is stand up and run. His feet weave him through hallways, through doors, until he is sitting out of breath with his back against the cool brick of the school's exterior. He's in the back of the lot, hidden behind the shade of a large tree as he let's the tears fall freely. 

He should have seen this coming. He should have remembered that when boys like boys, it's in secret. He should have remembered that public affection is not allowed to him. He should have remembered holding hands cost a hefty price. 

"Are you okay?" 

The voice startles him, and he almost flinches instinctively, as if waiting for the hit. It doesn't come though, instead he is staring up at a boy with a kind face and a small stature similar to his own. He vaguely thinks his face seems somewhat familiar, but he can't place it. "I'm fine." The words come out in a hushed tone, muted by the lump in his throat. 

The boy slides down to sit next to him, "I'm Dong Youngbae." 

A/N: first chapter of a new fic!! it's pretty late where i am, and i'm running on little sleep so i will most likely re-edit this later. enjoy!