A/N - I wonder who will notice the coincidence. Also for anyone who protested against the angst…this was always meant to be angst. That little angst tag had been there right from the beginning. Just because I wrote some fluff and doesn’t mean that tag will suddenly disappear. So I am sorry to disappoint (don’t know why though because it was supposed to be expected..I even mentioned it on my A/N’s)…but this story will be angst…light angst though. The kind with misunderstandings but love is on both sides…most of the time…but Hyukjae is my baby and playing with his feelings feeds my sadistic writer feels. Lol…so yeah…whine all you want…but you are getting angst…but it won’t be that bad…I think.

Eunhyuk walked in through the school gates, his shoes trudging on the gravel because he didn’t want to be there. He didn’t want to go through the name calling. He didn’t want to go through the things being thrown at him and books being ripped apart. He didn’t want to hide from his brothers and to tell them every day that he was okay when he was not and he was sure that they knew he was lying. He could hide the red puffy eyes and cheeks only so much and his brothers concerned eyes told him that they did not believe him for a second yet respected him enough not to push it.

He didn’t want Sungmin and Minho to look at him with the same hate filled eyes as everyone else because they were returning from their Karate tournament that day. Would they hate him too? Would they say the same words like the rest of them? Would they laugh and jeer at him while he stood there all alone.

And most of all he didn’t want to see Kyuhyun. He didn’t want to see dark orbs look at him so coldly; he didn’t want to ignore him like a plague anymore; he didn’t want him to be with that girl any second longer, touching her, letting her touch him, letting him kiss her, letting her hurt Eunhyuk. It hurt and he felt that his breath was knocked out of his chest every time…like something was smothering him, cutting off the air, stifling him, oppressing, overpowering.

It made him want to curl up and cry, to just let the world wash over; to leave, to regress…because he never knew that loving someone could be this painful.

“Look it’s the .”

“Didn’t you learn you lesson yet ?”

“Stay away. We might get infected with your gay.”

Every insult was followed but chuckled and sneers and more catcalls.

…and then more insults

“Nice but sorry, I don’t like ‘em flat like yours.”

Tears prickled the back of his eyes and he wanted to turn around and go back home but he walked forward, trying to avoid the balled up pieces of paper being thrown at him and the cheers and claps that followed when they hit him. He reached his classroom and quickly sat down at him desk, head down and tears already coming out. He quickly wiped away the tears and instead tried to concentrate on the teacher who had just walked in.

***