Henry Lau, a regular Chinese Canadian boy who was just starting his third year in high school in Toronto, Canada. He hadn’t many friends because he looked different, acted different, ate different foods… He was different than everyone else. His only friend was his violin… Until he met Zhou Mi.

Henry was just strolling through the school gates with his precious violin when he saw a tall lanky guy being pushed to the ground, glasses flying off his face and books and papers spilling everywhere. Being a kind heart and able to kick a few butts with what he learned in martial arts, Henry managed to salvage a tall ragdoll from the courtyard stones.

“Are you alright?” Henry asked, helping the tall student sit up. Now seeing him up close, the high school student could see that this kid was also Asian, with an angular face and quite a nose on him.

“Okay…” the kid muttered, beginning to pick up his books.

Henry reached behind him and picked up the kid’s glasses. They had no lenses in them. Chuckling, Henry held them out to the boy. “Only for fashion?” he asked.

The kid just tilted his head downward slightly and took his glasses back from Henry. Gathering the rest of his books, the kid stood up as Henry did, who also picked up his violin case. He was much taller than Henry anticipated.

Extending a hand, Henry introduced himself. “I’m Henry Lau.”

“Lau…” the tall kid said softly, shaking Henry’s hand. “I am… Zhou Mi.”

Henry suddenly understood why this kid—Zhou Mi—was being beat up. He was foreign—not Henry foreign where he could actually speak English, but foreign as in no English-speaking abilities at all.

“Are you from China?” Henry asked in beat up Mandarin.

Zhou Mi’s face lit up instantly. He nodded vigorously. “Eh~ You speak Mandarin!?” he exclaimed.

Henry nodded. “Come on,” he said, hooking an arm with Zhou Mi’s. “Let’s get to class.”

“Best friends?” Zhou Mi asked cutely in English.

Henry giggled. “Of course!”

Day after day, Henry and Zhou Mi grew closer and closer, always hanging around each other. They were nearly inseparable. The first few days that Zhou Mi had arrived, he was bullied nonstop, and Henry was never around to help his friend—only there afterward to clean up the blood, patch up the gashes, and soothe the bruises. Zhou Mi’s English improved marvelously, but after a week, Henry was fed up with the abuse and decided to take it upon himself to go to the principal’s office with Zhou Mi to report a case of bullying. Seeing how the school had security cameras everywhere, the culprits were caught immediately, sentenced to a week-long suspension.

The days that Henry and Zhou Mi spent together in the music room was probably Henry’s favorite moments. The way that Zhou Mi’s arms and legs would flail everywhere when trying to dance always brightened Henry’s mood. The soft voice that could sing in three different languages amazed him. And the slender fingers that danced across the ivory keys of a piano never ceased to mesmerize Henry.

“Hanri…” Zhou Mi said. Henry chuckled; he could never pronounce his name correctly, but he didn’t mind. It was cute. “How come you never play your violin for me?”

Henry frowned. It was a delicate situation. He’d taken violin for 6 years now. He was a prodigy, a genius in music, but he refused to play publically. Humiliation, above all, is what he feared. Frightened that he wouldn’t meet everyone’s expectations or that he’d mess up, he was afraid of the criticism.

“Come on, Hanri,” Zhou Mi insisted, sitting beside Henry and patting his leg. “Please?”

“How about I play the piano for you for once?” he suggested. Zhou Mi had never heard Henry sing or play piano or play guitar; he’d only ever seen Henry dance, and that’d been an accident too.

One day after school, Zhou Mi had been looking for Henry all over the school to ask him if he would help him study. He ended up finding Henry in the dance studio, the speakers loudly blasting a song by that famous Korean band Super Junior. Zhou Mi hung by the doorframe, quietly watching Henry. He was beautiful this way, twisting, twirling, and jumping. The short legs and flexible arms amazed Zhou Mi. Even noticing the way that Henry sang so passionately to the Korean song was amazing, correctly pronouncing every syllable.

So entranced was Zhou Mi that he didn’t even notice that he’d dropped his heavy books until Henry abruptly stopped and whipped around to find the source of the thudding, staring dumbfounded at the tall Chinese. Regaining his senses, Zhou Mi hurriedly picked up his books as Henry ran to turn off the deafening music.

“I’m sorry,” Zhou Mi said rapidly in hushed Mandarin. “I just… I was going to ask if you wanted to study with me and—“

“Don’t worry about it,” Henry said, grabbing his towel and pressing his face into it.

Zhou Mi just knelt quietly on the floor, conflicting feelings in his chest. He finally looked up when Henry said, “So… What was it you came here for?”

Zhou Mi stood up and sat next to Henry, who was propped against the mirror. “I wanted to ask you if you’d help me study. I just need some translations.” he answered.

“Your place or mine?”

“We can go to my house later…” Zhou Mi was silent.

Henry eyed Zhou Mi. “What’s wrong?”

Zhou Mi smiled feebly before frowning again. “I… I didn’t know that you could speak Korean…”

“Oh… Yeah,” Henry said softly, flipping his bangs out of his face. “My dad’s cooperation is stationed in China, Korea, and Canada. I spent a really long time in Korea.”

“I see. I have a really good friend in Korea who taught me Korean. His name was… Siwon. But one day he just… disappeared…”

Henry just nodded absentmindedly.

“So…” Zhou Mi said softly. “You dance?”

“Yeah… What’d you think?” he asked shyly.

Zhou Mi stared into Henry’s soft brown eyes for a long while, slowly and unconsciously inching closer and closer to Henry, before grinning. “Brilliant,” he answer, pressing a chaste kiss on Henry’s cheek.

“Divine…” Zhou Mi pushed Henry to the floor so that he lied on his back.

“What—What are you doing, Zhou Mi?” stammered Henry in broken Mandarin and English.

Pausing, a sudden tension between the two Chinese boys, Zhou Mi then took the end of Henry’s towel that hung around the younger’s neck and wiped away a bead of sweat sliding down his cheek.

“Missed a spot,” Zhou Mi chuckled huskily, getting up off of Henry.

Shaking, Henry sat up too, fingers brushing the spots of his cheeks that Zhou Mi’s lips and fingers had graced. The taller stood up and grabbed his stuff. “Umm… I’ll wait for you outside so you can get dressed,” Zhou Mi said a bit unsteadily, walking slowly out of the room.

Henry breathed shakily. He and Zhou Mi had almost… kissed. Gays weren’t uncommon in Canada, but not having known he was gay, Henry was freaked out. Since when was he gay?

Sitting down on the rickety wooden bench, polished to a pristine brownish glow, Henry wiped his sweating hands on his pants before setting his small fingers on the keys, trying to remember a melody that Zhou Mi would like. A Chinese song, he decided. It was soft, bittersweet, a song that many people knew probably.

”’Tong Hua’” Zhou Mi breathed. See, people knew it. Henry smiled and continued playing, closing his eyes gently as he let the soft notes wrap around him, drifting him into his own world.

Suddenly, long fingers wrapped themselves around Henry’s wrists, halting his playing. “Why do you play such a sad song, Hanri?” Zhou Mi murmured into his ear.

Henry was speechless. Zhou Mi was close—very close—to Henry, stomach pressed firmly against his back, his neck arching downward, right next to his face, with his breath tickling his neck. Henry turned around slowly; his hands dropped from the piano keys into his lap, numb, unsure of what was happening.

“Why so sad?” the tall Chinese whispered again, trailing his fingers up Henry’s arm, rubbing his palms up and down the sleeves of his shirt—an ugly one, Zhou Mi had exclaimed earlier.

The same feelings—confusion and desire—wafted over Henry, like the day Zhou Mi had pressed him to the hard floor of the dance studio, lips nearly a centimeter away from his own, plump and waiting to be kissed, waiting to be soiled by another’s lips and tongue; but unlike the other day where only want, desire, and dreaming hung in the air; today the dream became a reality.

All confusion was thrown aside as Zhou Mi’s soft lips pressed gently against Henry’s cherry ones. Gently closing his eyes, Henry craved for Zhou Mi’s touch. He’s never felt this way before, not even with a girl. It was deep, magical. It burned his heart just to know that there was something so amazing and hot, burning hotter than fire, brighter than the sun; it hurt to know that this is what Henry wanted, and that this is probably what everyone else would ridicule him for. But he didn’t worry about that as Zhou Mi’s slick tongue pried his pretty lips open.

“Mi… Mi…” Henry moaned as Zhou Mi pulled away, his lips, savoring Henry’s taste.

“MiMi…” repeated Zhou Mi. “I like it.”

“Found you a nickname,” Henry murmured breathlessly, wrapping a hand around the Chinese’s neck.

“It’ll come in handy soon,” he growled, picking Henry up bridal style. “Zhou Mi is harder for you to say since you’re not too accustomed to speaking Mandarin, but MiMi… Easy pronunciation, even with a loose tongue.”

Henry furrowed his eyebrows, completely confused until he saw Zhou Mi’s smirk, that evil grin. And he knew then, Henry would never regret what was to come.