Camp Echo, Mt. Desert Island, Maine

Taemin aged 12; Minho aged 14

—

Branches snagged at Taemin's clothing, cutting into his skin as he moved through the brush behind the cabin. He pushed through the bushes, making his way to a secret perch on cliffside rocks overlooking the lake. There, Minho swam with a group of friends, trying to cool down after a bout of water skiing. With the wall of stone beneath him, the words of Minho and his friends echoed and reached Taemin's ears as easily as if they were standing right beside him. Taemin discovered this by accident last week when he followed a neat little rabbit into the brush, wondering if he could make a friend to replace Tommy. His parents told him he could either come to camp or have a bar mitzvah, and the choice was easy for him. 

He hadn't told Minho. He still thought he spent each day at the horse pasture with him still. If Minho knew he was alone, he'd follow him around everywhere again. Taemin couldn't have that. Just the brief moments where they ate dinner together or played cards in the cabin were overwhelming. Taemin's stomach always turned when Minho glanced at him. His skin burned like an ant under a magnifying glass.

Taemin had been having dreams where Minho held him again. Once or twice, Minho kissed him. Taemin wasn't sure what to make of all that, and he figured it was best to avoid Minho until he sorted it all out. But he couldn't resist the temptation of this secret spot, of getting a taste of Minho to get him through his lonely days. He didn't know the other boys that were with him, aside from Andrew, but they all looked to be about the same age. They had three topics of conversation: cars, sports, and girls. Today's special interest seemed to be the last one.

"I swear, by next summer, she's totally gonna let me touch her s. I'll tell you guys all about it," one of the boys said.

Another shouted back, "The only you're ever gonna touch is your mom's when you were a baby!"

Andrew turned the attention towards Minho, who had been mostly silent up until this point. "What about you, Minho? Have you got a girlfriend yet? You're like, a hotshot on the soccer team, right? I'm sure girls are lining up to your—"

His sentence was cut off by gargles as Minho shoved his head under the water. He let the boy up for air, and after he was sure he wasn't going to say anything else stupid, Minho answered, "No, I don't have a girlfriend. But I have someone I like."

"Ooh! Minho has a crush!" the first boy teased. "Come on, then! What's she like?"

"Yeah, does she have massive ti—Ah!" Minho dunked Andrew again. This time, it looked like he was seriously contemplating drowning him.

"It doesn't matter," Minho said as Andrew struggled in the water beneath him. "It's not gonna work. It'll never happen."

"At least tell us a little!" the second complained. "Is she like hot or is she like cute?"

Minho smiled softly, the warm thought granting him the mercy to release Andrew from his grip. "Cute. Definitely cute," he answered.

Taemin had had enough. Today, this was far from fun. Wiping his leaking nose on the back of his arm and trying to blink away the tears that were clouding his vision, he tried to push his way back through the bramble that brought him to this hiding spot. His foot made contact with a rock rendered slippery from a thin layer of moss, and before he could catch himself on any nearby branches, he was tumbling back into the lake. Those twenty or thirty feet felt like an eternity as he fell. He knew the water was deep here. He knew he couldn't swim.

Cold water swelled around his body, soaking his clothes instantly and trying to force its way into his mouth and nostrils. He flailed a bit, trying to mimic the motions he remembered Minho doing all those times he'd watched him secretly in the lake. Bubbles shot out of his mouth in his panic, and his muscles quickly became stiff in his erratic movements.

I'm going to die , Taemin thought. 

He opened his eyes, but the lake was too murky to spot anything. He wasn't even sure which way was up anymore.