“Please, Minho,” he whispered fiercely, hands outward and pleading, “Please, could you? I need to get him out of the house!”

Minho leaned against the brick wall, groaning furiously and rubbing his face. He didn’t like the situation he was being put in. Yes, he quite dearly had such strong feelings for his elder, but he couldn’t just go out in public with him—especially with a kid. No matter how much he loved Taemin, he couldn’t.

  “I’m not risking it,” Minho responded, a hard edge to his voice, warning Jinki to stop asking before he snapped, “I’m not risking our safety from the world.”

Jinki sighed, keeping a good, casual, distance away from Minho as he leaned on the wall too, sliding down until he sat. He kept his hands on his lap, staring down at them. He really needed Minho, right now. He really needed Taemin to get out, or he’ll grow up as a house gremlin. It was so important to let his baby brother have fun every once in a (very long) while, and he wasn’t the best person at interest. Jinki was more of a nurturing person, and even though Minho may be partially the same way, Minho exceeded in more heart pumping actions—he was perfect for the job, and he knew it, too.

  “I just . . . I want to give him everything, you know?” Jinki sighed again, pulling his hair behind his ears, “It’s not easy being sixteen and basically becoming a father to my own brother. I can’t give him everything because I’m not always there, or I can’t provide enough. I just want to give him something—a day out—with someone he thinks is the best,” (Jinki specifically said that because he knew Minho liked feeling smug from hearing such words), “And Taemin likes you out of my friends. Not being you're my—”

  “Best friend,” Minho quickly interjected, eyes locking on two boys that passed by, giving both of them friendly looks and a wave.

Jinki’s fists curled into his uniform pants, feeling uncomfortable with the words that so easily slipped from Minho’s mouth as if they weren’t even boyfriends at all, “Yeah, that. But . . . Taemin really likes how outgoing you are. Just—It’s just the movies, Minho. No one will know, I promise.”

  “Everyone goes to the movies on Saturday, Hyung,” Minho pressed harder, jaw clenching as the elder kept being reluctant to accept rejection, “I’m not going to be seen with just one guy friend and a kid. The rumors spread faster than germs in Korea. Let it go because I’m not going with him or you. I’ll see you later.”

Jinki looked up, the hope washed from his body as he watched Minho walk away from the conversation, like he did every time their talks got too serious or weren’t going the way Minho wanted them.

Minho wasn’t a hardheaded teenager, but he was overly protective. Not just for his own reputation, but for Jinki’s as well, so he didn’t want to risk anything getting out. There were reasons why the relationship was secret. These people here like to spread rumors; they like to look at people and judge them, and they’d even give a million dollars just to get a penny’s-worth of gossip and spread it around.

Jinki knew from the start that if they were going to be in the relationship, they had to evaluate everything they did together: what they do, how often they see or look at each other, expressions, conversations, all of it. Minho, in fact, thought about way too hard and that’s what caused him to be so reluctant.

Jinki looked away from Minho back to his fists, wondering if they’d ever unclench from his pants. He knew it was a long shot—completely knew it was a long shot—but he just wanted to try.

Maybe Jinki should just take Taemin to the park for the day. Even though the sunlight would seem to be more of Taemin’s style, the entertainment level was pretty low, and Jinki couldn’t provide more.

He wished people would be more accepting. It wasn’t like he or Minho were doing terrorist attacks on citizens, they were still sane in the mind and only in high school.

Minho’s father was the most concern, though. He only lived with his father, and he was the strictest man on earth, so to believe by every one of Minho’s friends. If his father heard his son was gay and dating a boy, Minho would be in the deepest sea level of trouble. That’s why Minho was completely hard to crack—completely hard to get out of the closet.

Jinki got up, dusting his off and walking the opposite direction, his thoughts directing to if Taemin was still in the attic, alone, unfound by his incoherent mother. Maybe he could get permission to start bringing Taemin to school with him. It would leave Jinki in a lot more contentment if Taemin was there. But then again, if people knew why Taemin would have to come to school, people would mock Jinki for having an alcoholic mother.

Jinki lightly groaned, cracking his neck sideways and loosening up as he entered back into the school, entering the classroom to get his bookbag as the bell rang once more, the reminder that school let out a minute ago. The room was pitifully empty, even without the teacher, as the kids had deserted the dull room to go find their social life.

Jinki took out his worn-out black bag, hanging it around his shoulder and grabbing the water bottle at the bottom, taking a large sip before staring at the happy picture of him, and both of his parents. Just one look at his mother’s stomach and he could see six-months grown Taemin inside.

Jinki felt like ripping both of his parents’ heads out of the picture. Those fake smiles.

He threw the rest of his bottle in the trash, angrily slamming the locker shut, a fist pounding on it. He didn’t know what to do with himself anymore. Nothing was happy and nothing was easy. He was fighting for three lives at once and he just couldn’t take this pressure, yet he couldn’t find it in himself to give up.

He pounded on it again, lighter this time, afraid the teachers were still in their rooms. He didn’t want to cause attention, yet he really did.

His forehead laid on the colder locker, slightly breathing a little hard, his testosterone fighting inside him to just beat the locker in and into sand. He started to feel more and more frustrated rather than upset and he just didn’t like it.

  “Hey.”

When two hands clutching on to both sides of Jinki’s uniform, pulling him back a little from the locker, Jinki jumped, pushing his hands away as fast as he could with the urgent blaze in his eyes, “What are you trying to do, Minho?! Get us seen?!”

  “I—” Minho looked at him weirdly, seeing the unfamiliar rage on his face, his own expression softening, “I checked the hallways twice before I came in . . . Are you okay? You’re sweating.”

Jinki fought the instinct to push Minho’s hand away as he brushed the hair out of his face, but let it be, his eyes to the floor, “Sorry.”

  “. . . Saturday, right?”

At the question, Jinki looked back up, confusion settling in his eyes, “What.”

  “We’ll go see a kid’s movie on Saturday. Is that okay?” Minho raised his brows, hand just past his ear.

Jinki shook his head, hefting up his bag before taking his hand, putting it down, “It’s okay. I rearranged the plans, don’t worry. I didn’t think the movie was at best interest, anyway.”

  “No, we’re taking him to the movie,” Minho’s serious tone returned from earlier, “No changing my mind, now.”

Jinki sighed, “But, Minho—”

  “I know,” he interrupted, “But don’t worry. C’mon, let’s go.”

Slowly, they walked out of the classroom, Jinki’s tension creating a bridge between them.