Ten was never sure when he became aware that the world wasn’t safe for gay boys. There was no defining moment—it was just that somewhere early on in grade school, he got the impression that some people had an easier time of it, and he was never one of those people.

His recollection of his early years was faint at best, but his mother often recounted how he never had an interest in girls. Whether this was wholly true or not, it felt correct. And though he knew he’d had crushes on other boys from an early age, he never acted on them because he knew what would happen if he did. 

But then high school rolled around, and he thought maybe it would be all right, as long as he could keep it under wraps. He started dating one of his classmates and for a couple of months, it was good. But the problem with good things is that they always lead to complacency and the desire for more over the regard for protection. They got greedy, and then the wrong people found out.

Ten got into his first and last fistfight that year. He didn’t remember exactly how it started, but all he knew is there was yelling, and his boyfriend was trying to pull him away, but—he’s not sure. Maybe he hadn’t gotten enough sleep that night, or too much. Or he was pissed about a grade he got already, or someone had bumped into him in the cafeteria—but he swung and he did not miss. 

He got the beat out of him after, but it was worth it; the single moment of shock, of stillness, as one of those s stumbled back, clutching his rapidly-purpling eye. Ten split a knuckle on his cheekbone. He remembered being proud that he made that boy bleed.

His mother wasn’t home when his boyfriend dragged him through the door. Ten could barely keep himself upright. He was bleeding everywhere; he’d lost a couple teeth, broken a couple fingers, split his lip. His little sister was home, and she screamed when she saw him. But even at twelve, Tern was caring and dutiful. She brought him an ice pack and cleaned up his scrapes as best she could.

When their mom got home, she drove Ten to the hospital. She asked him what happened, and Ten told her. 

“Did you throw the first punch?” she asked.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Ten, I’ll never be angry with you for standing up for yourself,” she said. “But what you did was wrong, not to mention dangerous. Never ever do something like this ever again. If they hit you, you go ahead and hit them back. But you never start it, you understand? I won’t raise my son to be violent.”

“Okay,” Ten murmured.

When Ten was released from the hospital later that evening, hand in a splint and stitches on his brow bone, his boyfriend met him in his backyard and broke up with him. Ten couldn’t blame him, but once he was alone, he cried anyway.

After that, Ten didn’t really date. He’d learned his lesson. Not here, not now. Not for boys like him, not yet. Sure, he was still bullied for it—it wasn’t like there was any hiding it anymore—but it wasn’t so bad. He’d indulge in secret hookups with random guys at parties—guys who were straight except for behind locked doors. Ten didn’t mind. He didn’t really care about any of them, and it was kind of fun to have a couple of jocks indebted to him because he knew their secret.

But then, he entered SM and he met Johnny. At first, he tried to convince himself that he just really wanted to be friends with him. Yeah, he’s handsome, but so are a lot of guys here, he’d think. That doesn’t mean I like him.

But it was always in the back of his mind. Now, Ten knew—he’d liked Johnny from the moment he laid eyes on him. It’s just that it wasn’t safe, and he was more than happy to let it break his heart.

Now, Ten waited in Johnny and Taeyong’s room for them to get back after a pit stop in the kitchen to grab a bite to eat. He didn’t wait long; just as he was finishing his granola bar, he heard their voices down the hall. 

“I’m gonna go grab some water,” Johnny said, only sticking his head into the room after Taeyong had entered. “I’ll be back in a few.”

The room was silent as Taeyong arranged himself on his bed. Ten decided to speak up.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I hope you don’t feel like I was using you.”

Taeyong gave him a smile. “You were,” he rebutted softly. “But that’s okay. I was using you, too, you know.”

Ten blinked. “How do you mean?”

“I didn’t want to bother you with it, because you had enough going on as it was,” he said. “Doyoung and I figured it out in the end.”

“So when—when you said you might be interested in me,” Ten began. “Was that a lie?”

“When you said you might be interested back, was that a lie?” Taeyong countered. Ten shook his head. “So we understand each other, then.” He kicked his foot out gently, bumping Ten’s shin. “We both needed someone to hold on to while we sorted some things out.”

“Is that why you pushed me away?” Ten asked, feeling small. “Because you were done sorting?”

Taeyong, to his surprise, shook his head. “No, I only realized after I told you to talk to Johnny that it was high time I took my own advice.”

Ten nodded. “So,” he said after a moment of silence. “You and Doyoung.”

Taeyong laughed. “Yeah, us. We just didn’t know how to understand each other, that’s all.”

“You must have been sad, though,” Ten said. “Sometimes.”

Taeyong shrugged nonchalantly. “Sometimes,” he said. “But it was okay. I had you.”

Ten was about to open his mouth to say something, maybe apologize again, or thank him, but Johnny was back, water cup in hand. He sat down on the end of his bed next to Ten. “Are we… good here?” he asked, nodding back and forth between them.

“Yeah,” Taeyong said, smiling. “I have to go, anyway—the managers wanted to chat.”

“Okay.” Ten watched him as he grabbed his things. He was out in a matter of seconds, leaving Ten and Johnny alone.

“Hey,” Johnny said, after a beat.

“Hey.” For some reason, Ten felt shy. He knew they were going to have to talk, but now that he was confronted with it, he wanted to curl up and hide. The only thing left to say was that he was sorry again, and—and that he loved Johnny. But the old fear sparked in his bones. Was it safe? How could he even say it? Would Johnny say it back? What was he supposed to do if he didn’t? I love you; I’ve loved you for years but I never knew how to do it right. I love you and I want to keep loving you. I love you, what do I do?

“Do you want to start, or should I?” Johnny asked.

“Start?” Ten looked up at him, confused. Johnny’s eyes were sparkling, even though Ten could tell he was anxious. His hair was ruffled, messy from his beanie. He was perfect. I love you, what do I do?

“I’ll start then,” Johnny said with a nervous laugh. He played with his hands for a minute before he began to speak. “I—I’ve known for a while that I like boys. Even before I met you. But, you know, I don’t really look the part, so most guys don’t really see me. And so I think—I just got used to not really being seen. So when we first started—hooking up, I was fine with it because it was like—I mean, there wasn’t any attachment there. We were just doing each other a favor, that was all.” He sighed, brushing his hair back.

“But even so, I wanted more. Because I really like you Ten, and I wanted—want—all of you. But it was frighteningly real. I could manage it, in my head, if we were just friends with benefits, or whatever you want to call it. But you, actually liking me as I am? That was foreign. You looked at me and all I could think was that you should be with someone better. And I know how it must have seemed to you—that I didn’t care, that I was afraid of my own feelings, or whatever. But it wasn’t any of that. It wasn’t that I didn’t want you, or didn’t like you. It was guilt.”

Ten could tell he’d been practicing this speech for a while. It left him feeling a little stupid, for multiple reasons. One, he hadn’t really prepared anything. Two, he couldn’t believe he’d been so uncaring. Johnny said it himself—he didn’t look the part. Ten had no idea where he was at with his own identity, had no idea what the details were of his inner turmoil. He’d taken one look and made up the rest, just because it fit how he’d decided things were supposed to go. Regret burned in his stomach, mixing with shame. It was just like with Taeyong—Ten was so selfish. This whole time, he’d been too consumed with his own heartache to have space for anybody else’s.

“I’m sorry,” Ten whispered. “I didn’t—I didn’t know. I thought—I mean, I’ve been with lots of guys who are straight except for with—when they were with me, and who don’t talk about it and don’t care and stay that way for the rest of their lives. And—and normally, that’s fine. So I thought, you know, what’s one more?” He looked up to find Johnny staring back intently. I love you, what do I do? “But it wasn’t fine with you. It hurt with you. And I thought, you know, that’s the price I have to pay, for choosing my straight best friend and—” Ten drew a breath. “—and then going and—and falling in love with him. That’s on me, and this is my punishment. And I—I was so wrapped up in all of that stupid —like, I was so busy being hurt that I didn’t stop to consider that you might be hurting, too.”

Johnny’s eyebrows crumpled. “You love me?” he asked, voice cracked and thin.

“Yeah,” Ten said, snapping his gaze back to his lap. Might as well. One way or another, it’s all over now. If my love can’t be safe here, then where? “Yeah, I love you.”

“Hey, look at me.” Johnny’s hands found his cheeks; he guided Ten’s head up until he was looking him in the eye. “I love you, too.”

“And that’s okay?” Ten asked.

“And that’s okay.”

“Do you—“ Ten swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Do you still feel guilty? Because you shouldn’t.”

Johnny faltered a little. “Sometimes,” he said. “I don’t know what it is, exactly. It’s like—if I’m gonna go ahead and be gay, I might as well do it right.”

“There’s no right,” Ten said. “Or—it’s all right. I don’t know. What I’m saying is—I’ll take you just the way you are, thank you very much.”

“Yeah?” Johnny was leaning in. “Me, too. I choose you, all of you. I’ve loved you, love you, will continue to love you because I choose it.”

Ten couldn’t force the lump down anymore—it burst on his tongue and he found himself crying. He stretched forward anyway, kissing Johnny soundly. It was wet and weird, but it was also good and sweet. Johnny was shaking, too, crying with Ten, clinging to him, cradling his head in his hands. Ten had thought he would feel like he was falling, or flying, maybe, but instead he felt like he was being wrapped in a thick, warm blanket. The rot in his heart was gone.

They broke away laughing. Ten was already half in Johnny’s lap, but though his mind raced with all the things he wanted, it was all secondary. He was still sore from the night before, in any case.

Johnny seemed to be thinking the same thing. “Do you want—I mean, we have time, but…”

Ten shook his head. “Not now. Now, I just want—this.” He lifted their hands where they were clasped between them. “I wanna hold hands with you. I wanna lie next to you, and just… just have you.”

Johnny nodded and pushed him back, crawling up the bed so he was at his side, and then pulled him into his chest. “Yeah,” he said when they were settled. “I want this, too.”

Ten relaxed into Johnny’s body, wrapping one arm around him, nose pressed to the cotton of his t-shirt. “I kind of stumbled into it before,” he murmured. “Loving you. This time I’ll love you on purpose.”

Johnny just hummed contentedly, rubbing his back. Ten let his eyes flutter shut. Johnny loves me, he thought. It wouldn’t be easy, with schedule conflicts, and constant public scrutiny, and work, all kinds of work. But Ten was patient, and he wasn’t greedy. The comfort was real this time, solid and sure. Though each time they would have to part ways would hurt, Ten knew the blow would be softened by their inevitable reunion. He couldn’t wait.