Work Text:
There was this kid that Thomas remembered down Glade street. It was something of a blur, but the memory was surely there. The cold stare that kid would make whenever someone got close to him; the invisible wall that he would put between him and any kid that would dare talk to him. If you were one of the lucky kids to get him to talk, like Thomas’ friend Newt, you would get a blunt statement of leaving that kid alone. It was still the same as all the nonverbal messages he was sending, but at least he was vocalizing it. It was a miracle that the boy talked!
Thomas pitied the boy during their elementary years because it was sad to see a kid not have anybody to play with during recess. To Thomas, it was against playground rules to be moppy and alone, but he was always intimidated by the hard glare the boy produced. It was like Thomas was always dodging laser beams each time he was caught glancing at the boy.
Minho was the boy’s name. Thomas learned that name quickly during the first day of kindergarten when the teacher was doing the attendance and butchered Minho’s name. “Men-Ho,” Thomas would quietly practice the foreign name with his mouth. It was a name he surely wanted to remember for future references. It was no guarantee that he was going to need it if Minho and him were to ever interact, but if the day came, he would at least be ready to remember the Asian boy’s name.
Thomas was a natural thinker, and, like all thinkers, he had questions that he needed answers to and questions that he could answer himself but would like to have it verified before flaunting it.
There were thoughts that made him question Minho a lot. He wondered if Minho liked being alone or if he ate one of those bland cereals that had no sugar in it. Anything non-sugary would make any kid unhappy all the time. What was Minho’s favorite color? It had to be blue. His favorite hobby? Looked like a runner. Thomas thought about Minho too personally for Thomas’ own liking, but he was a concerned six-year-old kid.
One day during recess, it was a gift from the gods above. One kid named Gally was showcasing a Yu-Gi-Oh card that was considered rare to all the kids. It was a blue-eyes white dragon card. It was beautiful in the sun as the paper card had a surface that reflected the light to shine in another direction. Thomas thought it was a card only available in the show, but it was there in the sweaty fingers of Gally.
“Curse him and his stupid eyebrows!” Thomas pouted as he reached the sandbox. “With that card, I can beat anyone in a duel!”
“Heh, whatever,” Minho scoffed, watching the clouds in the sky move in one direction. “I already have three of those cards. They’re not special.”
Thomas did a double-check and made sure to pinch himself. Minho, the ice king, was talking to him with full sentences! He must have been too distracted at Gally’s card to realize that he was in the same area as Minho, especially when Thomas was one arm-length away from touching Minho’s face.
It was becoming a rumor among the kids that Minho was a killer and was picking out his targets to justify why Minho was not interested in making friends with anyone. They also feared that there was something else awfully different to him. A presence the kids would say that they were inferior to him. Although Thomas believed anything the other kids would say, he knew there was something about Minho that was pulling him into a gravity of awaiting experience.
“I hate those kids that act like a big-shot,” Minho stated, “they are better off staying at home to their mommies.”
Playing with the warm sand grounding them, Thomas retorted, “I ‘ink you needabe happier. Itta pure luck to getta kind of stuff from one of those Yu-Gi-Oh packet thingies.”
Minho rolled his eyes but continued his focus on the clouds above, “It’s easier to buy them online.”
“You gotta real problem withda world, Minho.”
“You know my name?” Minho took his face out of from the clouds, looked softly into Thomas’ eyes with a certain sparkle.
“Y-Yeh, I know your na--”
“What’s yours then?” Minho excitedly spoke. It was the most energy Thomas saw Minho expose because the Asian fellow’s facial expression only ranged from mad to bored to murder.
It was the most opportune moment to introduce himself since Minho was inviting him to do so, and Thomas took his shot to establish something with the other kid, “Thomas.”
***
Thomas immediately noticed Minho more and more as the week went by whenever they were close to each other. It was because Minho looked out for him. There were days after school where Thomas was getting into his mom’s car that he would see Minho sitting on a bench alone. The difference from before was that Minho would directly stare at Thomas before waving and smiling. It made Thomas feel warm and small to see that Minho could be such a charming kid if the other kids actually talked to him.
“Mom,” Thomas said in a light tone, fastening his seatbelt, “have you met Minho’s parents?”
His mother was confused, obviously never heard of the name that came out of his mouth, “Men-who?”
“Never mind, mom.”
***
It was a Fun Friday where their school, W.I.C.K.E.D., held. Essentially every Friday was a day where teachers would give relatively less or no homework to the elementary grades. The main purpose of it was that after lunch, kids would put their names on a piece of paper that indicated that they were ‘good’ kids or displayed ‘nice’ traits that was seen by an adult. The kids would then give their ticket by to their teachers, so the teachers would turn it into the bucket for a chance to get free popsicles after lunch.
The deal was that only the kids that were selected was the only one to get the popsicles and not their class. The principal would always randomly pick three before announcing the three winners over the intercom to the whole elementary-side of the school. Of all Thomas’ days at W.I.C.K.E.D., he never got the chance to get his name picked. No matter how many good deeds he did around adults.
What luck, Thomas thought to himself.
Sitting impatiently after lunch and knowing the intercom would announce the winners in no time. He only was able to get in about two tickets in the bucket this time around, and he highly doubted that he would win. In class, Thomas sat in the corner seat closest to the intercom that was hooked in the top right corner of the classroom. Minho’s seat was on the same row as Thomas, but Minho’s seat was in the opposite corner.
With a slight static blaring into the room, the principal spoke through the intercom, “Hello students of W.I.C.K.E.D.! I am happy to announce today’s Fun Friday winners are,” a short delay with the sound of papers scrambling around, “Gosh dang it, I, uh, the winners are.” Students snickered before the voice spoke again with confidence and happiness, “Teresa, Minho, and Thomas!”
It was absurd and unprecedented to Thomas that he was able to win. He did more bad deeds than good this week, anyway! It did not matter, though. He won! Thomas laughed and rejoiced with Teresa and took her hand in his own and wanted to drag her to get their prizes right away. Then it struck him like lightning.
Minho.
Thomas turned around and walked over to Minho’s desk, where the Asian boy sat bored and did not seem like he was going to move anywhere. In fact, he looked more pissed that his name was called instead of happy. Thomas was not going to let that stop him, though. “C’mere you pesky bugger.”
“Don’t call me a pe-whoa!” Minho’s arm was pulled with a strong enough force to get him out of his seat and being dragged to where Thomas wanted him to be. “I guess I have no choice.”
“Yup. Let’s go, guys.”
There was a strong appeal to giving popsicles to kids in school, It was like having dessert from home, but it was free and without any parents telling them to stop eating it because it would ruin their appetite. As Thomas arrived at the attendance office, the principal was there awaiting their appearance. The principal had a nice warm smile as they held in their three popsicles.
“Here you go, guys. You all are so lucky today.”
“Tell me about it,” Thomas retorted, happily taking one popsicle out of the principal’s hand. Teresa took her share with an excited facial expression, and Minho took his with a pokerface. They all walked together to go back to their class after waving the principal goodbye.
“These are the cheap ones you can get at the store,” Minho stated, not even opening the icy treat.
Thomas and Teresa rolled their eyes as they figured that Minho did not know how to take free things for granted. “Can you just be happy for once?” Thomas asked, licking the mixed-flavor popsicle.
“I’m happier being alone with you, Thomas,” Minho duly muttered, but it was still able to be heard by the two other kids.
Never in Thomas’ life had he blushed so hard because of words. With his cheeks matching the color of his popsicle, Thomas was honestly speechless of what to say.
“I like it when I’m alone with Thomas, too.” Teresa butted in. It had little effect on Thomas in comparison to Minho’s.
“Mhmm, sure.” Minho proceeded to pass his popsicle over to Thomas. “You can have it.”
Surprises after surprises, Thomas was sure he was going to tell his mom all about his day from the moment he woke up to where he was now. Minho was astonishingly slick to have said something bold to make Thomas blush before Minho made Thomas go back to feeling comfortable.
***
Thomas was the only person that Minho could talk to without bad-mouthing them. Thomas could say he felt special that he was friends with the class’s scariest kid. It was also another reason why Gally did not bully him because he too was afraid of what Minho would do if the Asian boy found out.
Kindergarten went by as fast as the wind circulating around the world. It was first grade for Thomas and Minho was not in his class anymore. It felt lonely seeing at the corner of the left side of his new classroom that Minho was not sitting there dazing out the window.
By recess, it would be easier to find Minho. Thomas found Minho alone on the same bench he would sit in last year. Appearing closer, Thomas greeted Minho casually with a smile, “Looking for me, sad sack of potatoes?”
“Shut up, you annoy me,” Minho plainly stated, but the smile was still there.
“It was weird not being in a classroom without you in it, Minho,” Thomas took a seat next to his friend. “I feel displaced.”
“Oh wow, big word for a first grader,” Minho sassily commented.
“Oh, you shut up now.”
They shared a small giggle between each other. Minho drawn his attention back to the sky and sighed with a dull face. “I miss you, Tommy.”
It was a thing between them that they would stare at the clouds together and wonder what shapes they could imagine. Thomas did not blush to Minho’s words as he took it very platonically. Thomas nodded after thinking it over his next words, then he patted Minho’s back and said, “I miss you, too. I miss you, too.”
***
As the year went by, Thomas collectively made more and more friends. He was attracting more attention for his popularity among the students and eventually he no longer was able to hang out with Minho. There was too many people needing him for their personal reasons, and Minho sat in the back smiling thinking that Thomas would at least see him and smile back.
Until Minho stopped to realize it was finally over. The winning team that he belonged to were no longer winners in this race, and they all were disbanded and went off in their own way. Minho smiled again to the kindness he received from Thomas, for it was the most attention that he gotten from anyone. It surely was more than the attention his parents gave to him. Before Minho set his smile upside, it was the last time he smiled to the world.
He shortly transferred to another school by the end of second grade, but Thomas never noticed it. With the mountful of distractions, he probably would have not noticed for a long time. They did not share any classes together anymore, so it seemed as if Minho was never in his life the first place.
Until his mom mentioned it. “You know that Asian family in Glade street moved a while ago?”
“You mean Minho’s family? No way,” Thomas said, barely entering through the doors of the house.
His mom walked over to the kitchen to begin her kitchen prepping for the dinner. “It’s true! You can walk over there and see for yourself while I make this chicken.”
Thomas went to his room and threw his backpack randomly inside. He then grabbed his house keys and tucked it inside of his short’s pockets. Walking over to Glade street was not a long time, he enjoyed a good walk, anyway. Much to his disbelief, upon arriving to the place he noticed the sign that clearly stated, “For Sale.”
***
It was a tough start at first, for Thomas had to endure not having Minho around despite the fact he had all the friends he could possibly imagined. Hell, he was friends with the school bully Gally.
It still felt so wrong that Minho was not there with them all. The taste of soda would not give the same pop and sizzle it would when it entered Thomas’ mouth. It almost tasted plain. The candy he ate before would taste sweet, but it was slowly becoming unbearable. Thomas felt it was doing nothing but rotting his teeth.
It was beginning of sixth grade, and he was already down into the first month of school. His new school, the Right Arm middle school, was a far enough that he could not walk to school anymore. However, it had more opportunities than what W.I.C.K.E.D. provided. Also their ideology was not as sugar-coated as W.I.C.K.E.D. at the very least. Thomas felt there was something trusting with his new principal Vince rather than his old. It did not matter, for he was a growing up teenager with confusing hormones.
His sexuality was often questioned in his head because he was finding parts of the male body interesting as much as he found parts of the female body equally interesting. He did his Google research to find that there was such a sexuality out there. It was referred to as ‘bisexual.’
Maybe it was that he was feeling about himself.
Either way, he still had plenty of fun throughout his years at W.I.C.K.E.D., and it was time for him to make more memories at his newest school. As if the winds of fate came by, his mind thought of someone forgotten and buried deep within his mind. It laid dormant until it felt like it was done sleeping. Minho.
As Thomas walked down the unfamiliar halls, he saw a blue metallic door that did not shine in its paint. It was mundane, but it was at least not painted white. At least the person trying to paint it made it a different color. It was a history class, and he dreaded being lectured about old, dead white people. Thomas knew enough about how Columbus’ trip was controversial to the Native Americans, and he could agree with how angry the Natives were after reading up the facts that the textbooks did not cover on Columbus. The one in charge of the class was Ms. Manley apparently.
Thomas entered the room that was slightly filled, and he took his seat where he would always sit most of his student life -- first row closest to the board and the corner right seat.
He just found it to be the most easily accessible seat for him because it was close to the door and board. It was everything he needed to survive middle school life. The seat at the opposite end was still left empty for a student to take, but Thomas could not help but think that Minho would sit there one day.
It was beginning to bother Thomas that he could not stop thinking of a little Minho who was shorter than him in kindergarten smiling at him. A red shade appeared in his cheeks, for he remembered how he liked the way Minho’s smile was brighter than any other kid’s smile at the time. Surely, he kept thinking about Minho, it would mean trouble for his mixed feelings.
That was the magic of growing up for Thomas. Puberty was making him question his sexuality, fashion sense, general identity, and, personally his least favorite part of it, acne. He was growing pimples after pimples each day as if the pimples were all playing Farmville with his face. The teacher walked in and began setting up her stuff, and right behind her was the devil himself.
Minho walked in, slightly taller with short black hair. In kindergarten, his hair was long enough to cover his eyes completely, but Minho came through that door looking like a new person. His fashion was also arguably better. It was not like he dressed horrendously before, but he was definitively getting more handsome each time Thomas noticed him. The most important impact Thomas felt was the cold stare that Minho sent his way before looking away as if he was a bug to the other male.
Thomas’s heart made the loudest sound within his body that he was shocked no one else heard it. Minho did not spare another glance at Thomas and took his seat at the opposing end of Thomas’ row. It was disturbing to say that he was impressed by how things happened when he was in deep-thought.
Ms. Manley began her lecture like any other day of the week, and she did not bother to introduce the newest student to the class. Her determination to continue teaching was unwavered, and Thomas would give her respect for that. It was too bad Thomas did not pay attention or cared about what she particularly said about slavery around 1840s. His mind was focused on the attractive Minho in the other corner of his row.
The more Thomas stared, the more he felt himself getting pulled all over again. It was distracting to say the least. He was going to flunk the next test if he kept letting himself be captivated by Minho’s reappearance.
Minho sat there with his right hand propping his head. It was painfully obvious Minho was bored out of his mind, and Thomas could not blame him. Then something subtle occurred.
Minho slowly brought his fingers down into a fist except for one-- the middle finger. It may have been coincidental that he did. Thomas knew he did not want to exaggerate anything, but it was directed exactly at him. He wanted to doubt it until Minho turned his head and used his other hand to flick him off as well. “Oh hell no,” Thomas whispered to himself, blood on the rise.
After class, Thomas awaited for Minho to get close to the door for them to talk about the rift that was forming between them. Once the Asian fellow came up, Thomas stopped him. “Hey.”
Minho rolled his eyes and shoved Thomas to the side with his shoulder. Thomas did move back a few inches, and he was impressed on how strong Minho was becoming, but Thomas really wanted to know what was crawling up Minho’s ass to make him act like that. As Minho continued walking out to the hallway, Thomas attempted one more time to start a conversation. “Hey.”
“No,” Minho bluntly uttered, still not sparing Thomas another glance.
“Well, that’s rude.”
“That’s what I was aiming for.”
“Sassy bitch.”
“Annoying jacked.”
The two walked together randomly as they consistently called each other derogatory names. After going at it for five minutes, the bell rang that was the general sound that all students knew to groan at.
Minho and Thomas parted ways because Minho had a class in a direction that Thomas’s class was not in. Thomas looked back to see Minho from time to time, but Minho never gave a smile or look. Thomas could honestly say he was disappointed that he did not get to actually talk out the problem between them.
Minho sighed as it was struggle to not smile at Thomas, so he reminded himself as he shook his head, “Never. Stop. Running.”
***
It was one thing to be prideful, but it was another thing to be foolish. Crisp air matched the sharpness in Thomas’ heart as he ran for his P.E. class. As the wind rapidly slapped his face as he was reaching towards the end of his final lap. He looked back to see all the other classmates trying to catch up. With a short burst of energy and adrenalin, Thomas bolted forward and finished.
Thomas’ teacher Mr. Barnes, or Coach Barnes, stopped the timer at the moment of arrival and yelled out the time, “Eight minutes! Remember that when I come to ask to record your time!”
“Can’t tell what hurts more-- my lungs or legs,” Thomas collapsed upon the fake grass. In an upside perspective, he saw all the other students still running around the track field. The football field was designed within the circle of the track field to save the school space and money. It was not like it bothered anyone, though.
Clouds flew by like blobs of white paint smearing across the sky canvas. It was beautiful to stare at them as the sun was trying to blind Thomas. Like a bell gently ringing twice, Thomas felt happier and warm that his initial pain was dissipated. He remembered how Minho would win the cloud-naming contest they would hold between them.
Would it be weird to think that Minho was strangely cute in a way that was more platonic? Thomas thought it was at first, but it was genuine interest that he wanted to know what was hiding underneath those clothes of Minho. Would there be a six-pack that he could use as a tic-tac-toe board? What cologne did Minho use? Oh god, Thomas wanted to know the scent of the other male. It probably would have been earthy like alpine or maybe something generic from the store.
Clouds were as entertaining as Thomas originally thought. They were not piquing as Minho, or at least they were not that great to look at if Minho was not there to challenge him. Otherwise, it was simply dozing off into the sky; something Thomas was already too familiar with on days where he runs a mile for P.E.
“Let there be rain!” Thomas panted, still unable to catch his breath. A cold bead of sweat slid down his cheek swiftly, and he was staring into the hot blinding sun. There was never going to be rain.
***
It became apparent to Thomas that he had nothing else to do with his weekend. School was halfway done with the year. He sat in Ms. Manley’s class as usual with Sassy Mcgee in the opposite corner. Minho and Thomas never actually resolved the drift, but Thomas was in no hurry of making allies with people that thought too badly of him.
Ms. Manley, however, assigned a rest-of-the-year assignment that was a presentation of a historical figure, or fictional with Manley’s approval, for a group (of two) to educate the class on. The problem was that she was in charge of who paired up with who. Her voice in confidence gave everyone a pairing except for Minho and Thomas. The two of them were the only partnerless students left in the class.
“No, no, I can’t work with him ,” Thomas began begging Ms. Manley, approaching her desk with pity.
“I can agree with that, shuck-face,” Minho nonchalantly commented from his seat.
“You be quiet,” Thomas threatened.
“Uh hmm,” Ms. Manley glanced at them with seriousness, “I will not let change groups. You better work together or take the F.”
Thomas saw no victory in trying to negotiate for a better group or going solo. A joker would not oppose the queen, so he could only obey and entertain. Minho was a mysterious card, though. Obeying only to what he wanted to listen to, controlling how he wanted to be controlled, and acting as if it was indifferent to him. So troublesome.
After class when Thomas was going to head to his next class, Minho came over to his side and spoke to him. “You still live in that old house, right? Let’s go to yours to start working on this project.”
“No thank you, Minho. I can work on this by myself. I don’t need you,” Thomas spat, trying to keep a fast pace.
“I will tell Manley that you aren’t cooperating and get her to fail us.”
“You--”
“I would, don’t test it, Tommy,” Minho retaliated, giving off an intense aura of intimidation. It honestly terrified Thomas to see Minho turn into a bitter person just like how Thomas liked his coffee to taste with his cupcake.
“Okay, after school you can hitch a ride with my mom and I to go back to my place. Don’t be late or I’m leavin’ your ass,” Thomas submitted but was strict on the meeting arrangements.
Minho could not help but snicker, “Fair enough. Your pronunciation is a lot better now.”
“Whadda--”
“Cya.”
Thomas watched the back of Minho get smaller and smaller as the Asian male walked farther away. Thomas would be late to his next class if he continued to be distracted. “Asshole,” he quietly left in the air.
***
It was nonetheless an awkward car ride back home, and his mom was not doing anything to mitigate the dense air among the people in the car.
His mother attempted to converse with Minho, “So, Min-no--”
“Minho.” The Asian male corrected her instantly.
“Minho,” Thomas’ mother nodded, “how have you been since your family moved out of Glade street?”
Minho with his usual pokerface, “Nothing special so far. It’s being boring but whatever.”
“That’s nice.”
“Oh god help me,” Thomas whispered in the passenger seat upon reaching a stoplight.
It was getting beyond uncomfortable seeing that his mom was trying to welcome the enemy with open hands. Thomas’ facial expressions were obvious he was not enjoying any bit of Minho’s company, but it sort of was not entirely mad. It was strange to think there was some part of Thomas that held tightly to Minho’s past. The laughs and bonding they shared was unforgettable, and, as unbelievable as it was, Thomas thought Minho was also unforgettable .
When Minho walked through the doors of Thomas’ home, he felt awkward being there. It was honestly too comfortable. It smelled nice and was neat. It was not as pristine as Minho’s house was, but it was amazingly average. Maybe it was Minho’s fault for comparing people’s lives with his own because they were never going to be like his life.
“Take a seat on the couch or make yourself at home in Thomas’s room,” the mother spoke kindly.
Minho took it to heart and headed upstairs to Thomas’s room. Door opened and there was books and papers on one pile next to the bed. It was still surprisingly tidied if it were not the floor. It was not much of a heavily furnished room with beautifully painted walls or severe cabinets containing one’s belongings. Nope. It was your average bedroom with one closet, a bed, some hanging shelves, a desk, a chair, and a ceiling fan.
It was nothing in comparison to Minho’s, but the Asian knew it was going to be like that. It was always going to be like that. Of all the time Minho and Thomas had been friends when they were younger, they never officially visited each other’s houses.
Personal life was something they each wanted to keep to themselves, and it was something that Minho did not believe he was ready for. As much as he wanted to have a friend come over, he could not stand how much his parents did not want him to have anyone inside their home. They were a rich, powerful family; he was lucky to attend public school after showing how depressed he was being stuck at home.
All homes had a story was what Minho thought, and his own was a story he rather put up exaggerations to cover up the truth behind it all -- bluntly, his home was not a home.
Someone behind Minho was lightly singing a song, “He, he, hi, ho. Oh.”
Minho turned around to pleasantly find it was Thomas. The other male gave Minho an embarrassed facial expression. Minho wanted to smile, but he kept his frown and commented, “Nice voice, you klank.”
“Whatever, let’s just get this over with,” Thomas shook his head, dragging on the spite inside of him. “I don’t even want to be in this project with you.”
“Same,” Minho retorted, doing so to be snarky. “Who did you want to do this stupid presentation on?”
“I don’t know,” Thomas thought about it as he put away messy clothes into a hamper. “We could argue to do it on Ophelia?”
“The dead girl in the water? How happy,” Minho threw a fake smile to add to his sarcasm.
Thomas groaned while having completed cleaning the room. “You got any other ideas, pessimist?
Minho could agree that there was nothing in his own head to think of what to present, and it was not entirely boring to do the presentation on Ophelia. She was a fictional woman that had an impact on the world of art and drama. Her name itself was well-known. Minho pondered if he was going to commit to the idea, which he ultimately agreed to do. “Okay, Tommy, let’s do it.”
“Thank you,” Thomas smiled, unaware that it brought a slight joy to Minho to see something rare. Ever since Minho stopped being Thomas’s friend, he rarely got the opportunity to see Thomas’s smile. Subconsciously, Minho warmly smiled back.
***
The next day Thomas thought it would be a great addition to have side-by-side comparison to the original artwork where Ophelia was floating over the water. Minho really disliked the idea that he was going to be the model for the project, but Minho oddly could not deny the puppy eyes that Thomas displayed.
“I have a strong urge to murder you,” Minho bluntly uttered, floating over a pool of water. The noir was wearing a white shirt and white skinny jeans, which Thomas provided kindly even though Minho was one size larger than the brunet.
“Yeah, yeah, I hate you too,” Thomas retorted, gently placing a variety of flowers upon Minho’s chest. It took a lot of time to keep the flowers from all floating away, but Thomas finally was able to steady all the flowers as Minho continued to be floating with irritation.
Minho frowned as the water was beginning to get too cold to be in. “Hurry it up, will ya!?”
“Okay!” Thomas shouted, pulling up the camera to take the shot. “Close your eyes and look dead.”
“I’ll make you look dead,” Minho grumbled.
After drying off, Minho was for sure going to commit something illicit to Thomas. The pool was decently sized for commoners as Minho noted to himself. The pool belonged to Thomas’ family, and Minho could understand why Thomas was slowly getting tanner. On the bright side, the noir was freed of the too tight jeans that he was forced to wear for the photoshoot. It would have gave his hips that concave look.
Meanwhile Thomas stared blankly into the photo that he took of Minho, and he was heavily impressed on how the quality came out to be. He was also surprised that the white shirt did not expose what Minho had underneath and remained afloat during the shoot. If Thomas stayed candid to himself, he would not give up the photo to the class because the beauty of it was too aweing. He was going to hide it until he noticed a shadow towering over him at his desk.
“What do you think you are doing with that photo, Thomas?” Minho sinisterly asked.
“Nothing. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I had to, uh, see our progress,” Thomas awkwardly answered, scratching his head in places that were not itchy in the slightest.
Minho deathly glared at Thomas before he made up his mind that the matter was trivial. “Whatever. Do as you please.”
Something unprecedented came upon Thomas at that moment. A speedy heart was running in his chest. Was it the anxiety of being caught? But why would he be scared of being caught staring at Minho’s beauty? Wait, why was Minho suddenly beautiful? Thomas hated the guy as much as a can of worms… but the hatred was fleeting the more time he spent with Minho.
A time where a red string weaved itself around Thomas’ pinky and Minho’s. A bud would grow to become a flourishing beauty upon the world. A scent so sweet would gracefully fly into the wind. Only feelings could water the bud, but the amount the two served to the bud would really determine if the bud itself would grow or drown.
***
Thomas and Minho passed the presentation with flying colors and even got the class to laugh at Minho over the ridiculous attempt of recreating the Ophelia painting. The year ended shortly after, and Thomas was preparing himself for summer break while also ignoring the fact that he was going to miss Minho along the way.
A month into summer break and Thomas already reached the the peak of his fun. He was not aware of how bored he could get after a month. The brunet was sure there was supposed to be more to summer break than sitting at home and watching anime.
He went out with his family to L.A. on the the first week. Thomas then traveled to the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco on the third week. He also spent some time at his grandma’s house in Florida on the fifth week. What else were there to do?
Thomas sat in front of his computer screen with blank eyes as he attempted to watch the anime Erased. He reached the episode where the killer was able to see a spider’s thread upon the people’s head was mentioned. Thomas yawned before he moved his attention at the right lower corner of his screen to see the time was 3:02am.
Feeling adventurous due to binge-watching anime and being bored, Thomas decided to go for a run in his neighborhood to go over to Glade’s street. Upon reaching his destination, Thomas zipped up his sports jacket to his neck and proceeded to go down the sidewalk he was on for a few more steps. He then saw it -- Minho’s house.
It was plain white house that looked similar in design to the other houses, but it was surely different in color. It was strange to see the house abandoned without having anyone living in it. It was ominous and creepy. The blackness behind the glass window as the wind whispered as if it were saying danger to his ears.
It was fun while it lasted. Thomas began to walk back to his own house because the night was beginning to freeze him. Summer should not have been cold, but Thomas knew it would be stronger in temperature soon enough. Before he was able to take twenty inches away from the houses, he heard the backyard door to Minho’s old house slam shut.
Thomas immediately went back to see who was responsible for the noise. “Hey!” Thomas shouted, alarming the culprit, who was wearing a black hoodie and sweats.
“Cr-Crap,” a male voice uttered, running back inside of the backyard.
Thomas ran after the stranger to see what they were planning to do. Entering the backyard with them, Thomas noticed the stranger already halfway climbing down a fence that led to another neighbor’s backyard. Thomas could not make out the face the stranger had because of the hoodie casting a shadow over their face. He could not allow them to escape, though.
Thomas ran as fast as he could, and he jumped over the fence as high as he could. He climbed down and kept his pace in chasing the culprit down. It was oddly exciting to know that Thomas was engaging himself in such activities. He never had to do it before, but it surely was a good first experience.
“Get lost!” The stranger hurriedly uttered, continuing to jump from one neighbor’s backyard to another.
Thomas heeded nothing to the other’s words, and he resumed his pursue because he was hyped up on adrenaline. The chase only lasted ten minutes before the culprit jumped over one more fence to land into the public street. Thomas was only five feet behind, and he could honestly say he was proud he was not entirely lazy as a teenager.
As the both of them ran through the streets so early into the morning, Thomas swore he was going to catch up if he endeavored it more. “Can’t run forever,” Thomas commented with heavy breathing.
“You’re right,” the stranger retorted, stopping in a split second underneath a streetlamp. The light produced from the bulb above was shining among the infinite darkness.
Thomas was too deep and confused by the action that he did not stop his running until he was sure he was going to crash into the other male. Except he did not crash into the male. Thomas could not remembered what was happening because his legs stopped running when he did not order them to.
There was also a weird draft that was spinning around his face. He was also sure that the cars parked were not supposed to be upside down. Then Thomas hit the cement floor with a thud before his conscious was fleeting. “What happened?” Thomas muttered, his eyelids dangling between closing and opening.
“I flipped you over, dumbass,” the voice that sounded familiar said.
“Ugh, why?” Thomas groaned over the exploding pain over his backside and head.
The voice scoffed, “Because you were going to run into me. What you expected me to do? Get hit?”
“Well,” Thomas gave a serious pause, “yes.”
\ “Stupid,” the culprit appeared in Thomas’s vision and took off their hood.
With the light blinding Thomas’s eyes, he narrowed his vision as the image of the male in front of him began to clear up. “Mi-Minho?”
“Can you get back to your place by yourself?” Minho sighed, bluntly getting to the point.
Thomas thought about it, moved his back, groaned at the pain again. “I think I can.”
“Good,” Minho said, beginning to run away again.
What. The. Fuck.
***
Thomas did not see Minho again the reminder of that summer break. He even did a whole week after the incident to survey Minho’s old house to see if the Asian male would appear again. No such luck. It was absurd and rude Minho did that, and Thomas was slowly beginning to like Minho as a person again.
With a new-filled rage within Thomas, he did not want to talk to Minho again because Thomas was not going to let himself get hurt like that again. Thomas would rather get involved in politics rather than spend any time with Minho. Nope. Nada. Thomas knew he was going to hold a strong grudge against the black-haired Asian for that.
It was true, though. Thomas spent the rest of middle school years avoiding Minho. He could honestly say it was a happier time without Minho in his life because he was unharmed physically and verbally. Thomas relaxed with a smile how comfortable life was getting.
He continued that streak to his new high school, Paradise High School. For a few years of Thomas’ high school life, he was living a life deprived of Minho, and the smile on his face was slowly being pinched down. It slowly ate at Thomas the more he held onto the grudge despite Minho being out of his life finally.
A guilt and something else negative was riding his stomach. The small hole in Thomas’s heart was shaking and growing. Thomas was sure he would be happier, and he was at first, but he did not comprehend why it was getting on his emotions when he could not see Minho again. The reason being that there were too much things Thomas yearned to ask Minho.
In Thomas’ senior year, the toughest year of all high school years, he was stressing over balancing being in the cross country team and honing on his AP classes. Thomas lately smiled less and obtained a serious presence. The things that were supposed to make him smile were only temporarily.
The only destressor he had was the cross country team because he could run it off. He was not one for the track team because it required being insanely competitive and extreme speed. Thomas wanted to run on his own terms with a softer intensity of competitiveness. Although, the track team were sometimes sharing the same field to run on, and Thomas was able to look over at who was at least the most handsome on the male track team.
Thomas figured his own sexuality by junior year after getting involved in a weird experimentation of a relationship with his best friend Newt. It was surely an interesting experience, but Thomas felt it was making things too personal between Newt and him in a zone that Thomas was not ready. The brunet could not get past the soft touches and kind kisses because anything further than that made him lose the innocent image of Newt in his head.
One after school afternoon on the track field, the cross country were allowed to rest up on the bleachers while the track team continued to burn themselves out. Thomas barely arrived at the scene after he took a break at the water fountain to quench his thirsty throat. He looked at the star runner, and he noticed something vaguely familiar about the beautifully molded black hair and figure of a particular male. “No way,” Thomas mouthed in disbelief.
“There you go, Min! Don’t fucking slow down if you want to win that upcoming race!” Coach Mac exclaimed, also known as the most vulgar coach in the school for his foul language usage among his track students.
Thomas must have felt the heat getting to his head because he was sure that Minho was not supposed to be attending Paradise High School. Thomas would have surely seen Minho at least once throughout the years the brunet attended the school. But it was profound, because there was the Asian male running at top speed against all the other competitors.
The gate entrance was near a corner of the track running circle that Minho was fast approaching. Thomas was also near that edge of the circle where Minho and him would surely lock eyes. Thomas froze in his spot as if the sun could not help melt his feet off the floor to give him a running chance, and Minho was speeding closer to him.
Five seconds.
Thomas was scared.
Four seconds.
Thomas’s heart was beating at the same speed that Minho’s legs were going at.
Three seconds.
The people’s cheering in the back was being blocked out.
Two seconds.
The loud thumping of all the students foots pounding the floor was silenced.
One second.
Thomas prepared himself for what was coming at him.
Zero seconds… it was as if time slowed down as Thomas’ eyes met Minho’s. It was unfair to Thomas’ heart to see that the Asian male continuing to achieve higher physical beauty than before. It was as if puberty was giving him all the privilege to have the flawless tanned brown skin while giving him muscular arms. Thomas envied it all, but he envied others that were able to interact with Minho effortlessly more. He wanted that more than anything…
“Fuck,” Minho mouthed in silence within that timeframe between passing Thomas, “you.”
After organizing the memory in Thomas’s head, he replayed it and realized what Minho had said. He felt offended at first until he saw the reassuring smile that came after it, and the hidden butterflies sleeping on the walls of his stomach began flying again. Never had Thomas felt that way towards anyone except for the time he met Dylan O’Brien at Comic-Con.
“You little rascal,” Thomas started, approaching Minho after he finished his final lap. The black-haired Asian was spread out on the turf grass, contemplating on how surprisingly pleasant it was to be a runner. Thomas’ shadow shrouded over Minho on the floor. “You’re so rude, you know that?”
“Don’t hate the runner, hate the race,” Minho panted, closing his eyes to give himself adequate oxygen in his body again.
Something crawled in Thomas’s ribcage and caused him to feel an itchy sensation throughout his body. A discomfort he hid as he smiled each time Minho’s perfect mouth spoke. The strong smell of cologne and sweat mixed together as if it were a strawberry being dipped in chocolate. It was a delicious smell to Thomas, and he was slowly being intoxicated by the scent itself. Minho brought back to reality with a pinch, and Thomas freaked out because he was not getting lost in Minho’s aroma.
“I think I should go,” Thomas commented, attempting to return to his own team.
“Why don’t you stay, shuck-face?”
“Oh, okay,” Thomas took back his words immediately, laying himself down next to the Asian male. “Cloud staring again?”
It came out more of a comment than it was a question, but Minho understood what it meant. He smiled, catching his breath after so long, “Yeah, I tend to do that after a good run. I still find what shapes I can make and so on.”
“Me too,” Thomas picked up pieces of the fake grass, throwing it aside. He needed something to do with his hands, so he would not need to feel too awkward over their reunion.
“I’m sorry I flipped your poor shuck-face that one time, though,” Minho confessed out of the blue. “That one is in the shape of a flower.”
“Oh my god!” Thomas exclaimed, remembering what had happened over the summer break in middle school years. “You fucking did flip me!”
Minho was laughing hard, something he was not usually doing around Thomas, and although Thomas was going to rampage about that incident, he decided it was better off for another time. Thomas indulged himself in the sound of Minho’s enjoyment, for it would be another decade before he could hear that again; it was as rare as Halley’s comet.
“You must be mad and want an explanation, huh?” Minho articulated, never moving his attention from the sky.
“I sure as hell do.”
“I’ll give it to your shuck-face if you can talk to me more after school on these type of days,” Minho explained, smiling with a plot in his mouth.
Thomas thought about it and figured that the days the track and cross team were unpredictable when it came to days the two teams would share the same field. “You son of a bitch.”
“Sounds about right,” Minho nonchalantly retorted.
It was something Thomas did not get at first, but he was able to understand it in time. It was surely not at this moment he caught it because he replied, “I assume so because you are one.”
The two laughed but Minho’s laughter was not as vigorously as it was earlier. It was emptied and afterwards the infamous frown came back. It was unfair because Thomas was letting his grudge go and Minho was letting the cold walls down. The unspoken dispute between them was going to be mended, but Thomas stopped caring and thought how it was funny how the dice he rolled his entire luck on landed on the ‘go back to square one.’
Poison and venomous came in separate bags, and Thomas knew which one was going to be used by Minho. If it was Thomas, he would rather had chosen the toxin consumed instead of being injected into him. It would have been less painful and easier.
If the venom that was Minho was going to deteriorate Thomas’ entity, the brunet would rather keep chasing the vicious snake until he caught it in the corner. It would be under his dying breath that Thomas would get the last words.
***
Needless to say, the weeks went by like it was nothing for Thomas because he struggled but conquered his AP classes. He was only primarily focused on meeting Minho at practice more than anything. A strong determination resided within Thomas’s heart, and he had no idea why he was being sucked into that black hole that was Minho. After relentlessly hoping that the two teams would cross again, Thomas decided it was happening too slow.
It had been too long since Thomas last saw the Asian male, and he was about had it with the way things were being handled. Thomas, with hope and courage sticking out of his heart, made the choice to go immediately to Minho after practice since both teams would end practice at the same time. A plan with not much to it, but it would suffice Thomas’s standards.
An invisible string was pulling Thomas closer to someone that was running behind shadows. Thomas barely got out of practice from cross country, and the night was already settling in. Schools lights illuminated hallways in a dim and ominous yellow. The wind blew chills down the back of Thomas’ back. He approached the boy’s locker room because most of the track team would go back inside to change before leaving school grounds.
Even from the outside the locker room smelled like a regretful date with someone that reeked of cheap cologne. Thomas held his nose at first before he gave up and entered the building. He could hear all sorts of guys talking about the girls they were crushing over and doing provocative things with them. The brunet rolled his eyes as he walked past each row of the locker room that did not have Minho in it. “Don’t tell me he didn’t even go the locker room,” Thomas muttered under his breath, feeling slowly hopeless as he was near the other side of rows.
“T-Thomas?” Minho stuttered, trying to get himself reassociated that he was not in fact dreaming.
It was the second to last row that Thomas saw the Asian boy paused in the process of putting on a t-shirt. Subconsciously, Thomas’ eyes wandered down and skimmed at the forming four-pack that Minho had going on. Thomas was also in awed that the row Minho was in had no one else occupying it, so it made it more awkward that the brunet was staring hard at something that was supposed to be unseen.
Thomas blushed so hard that he wished his hair was longer to be able to hide his face. It was utterly embarrassing that he was checking out Minho so openly in public. It was not his intention, and purely it was coincidental. Although, he expected he was going to see something like that when he entered the boy’s locker room.
Minho obviously understood where Thomas was looking at and smiled, resuming to put on the shirt he was going to wear before he was surprisingly interrupted. It was after that moment that Thomas was brought back to reality. Thomas began rambling to explain himself, “I wa-was going to, you know, talk to you, and it, it, it was going, I, uh, oh, don’t know what I’m talking about.”
Minho could not help but laugh at the brunet. Minho was going to be honest that he was finding the situation pleasant. Minho giggled, “Why don’t you wait outside, champ? I will see your shuck-face out there.”
“Yeah, okay, I will do that, no problem,” Thomas nodded his head, proceeding to leave the area.
Thomas awaited for Minho at a bench that was placed in front of a towering tree. In the darkness, the tree was horribly frightening; in contrast, the day would make it appear as equally calming. He sat there, letting his guard up for some reason. Unsure of what every boy coming of the locker room would say about him sitting there. Finally Minho came out and saw Thomas immediately. Minho slyly said, “To think you would come to me like that.”
“Don’t get yourself worked up,” Thomas frowned but a small smile was forming on the end of his lips. “I was tired of waiting for the day for us to meet again, honestly.”
Minho widened his eyes, nodding in satisfaction. Thomas shook his head and rolled his eyes in opposition. Thomas wasting no time to get his unanswered questions dealt with. “What were you doing in your old neighborhood?”
Minho was caught off-guard and was going pale like a mouse being trapped by a cat. However, it only lasted a minute before he articulated with the same cockiness as he usually had, “I just wanted to be there. Reminiscence what little childhood I had.”
Minho and Thomas walked slowly down to the front gates of the school. Their conversation continued, though. “I see, then why did you freak out when you saw me?” Thomas questioned.
“Because no one was supposed to catch me. Especially your nosy shuck-face.”
“Sneaking out of the house? So bad, Hoe.”
Minho grabbed and crushed Thomas’s arm under his grip. “I won’t hesitate to flip you over again.”
Thomas chuckled as he tried to pry off Minho’s strong fingers. “Deal, deal. I didn’t tell anyone about it. Chill.”
As Minho released his vice grip, Thomas muttered, “You didn’t have to flip me that time.”
Minho heard and retorted instantly, “I didn’t want to crash with you that time. I was also hoping you would blackout, so you could forget you and I saw each other.”
“You’re really the school’s best runner, though,” Thomas commented, despite the fact that he was petty about being powerless physically.
“You did oddly good on catching up to me, though. No one on this team can do that yet,” Minho praised. Thomas appreciated the compliment, but he did not see much importance in it because he still got hurt in the end of it. He probably should have let the flipping slide, but he was injured for a good while that time.
“Yeah, yeah,” Thomas shrugged, playing off the smile that was forming on his face as the night sky allowed it to be hidden from Minho’s eyes.
***
Thomas grew to let his feelings become suppressed because he found it easier to deal with that way. He caught himself in a web of mixed feelings around different people.
Strangers he did not know, people he barely met, and people he had known for a while. His sexuality was surely homosexual after thinking deeply about it, but he found himself dating Teresa at one point because he felt something more than platonic for her. Newt and him became friends with benefits because they were stressed and hornied out teenagers that needed sexual release. Thomas would not deny that he could see himself trying to date Newt again. It would not seem like bad idea because they clicked like chocolate and vanilla in a swirl.
Then there was Brenda… a strong woman, not a girl. She worked herself to be top of her classes as she wanted to get into Harvard for her college choices. She took trophies home because she found pride in awards that acknowledged her excellence. She was still a woman that had an emotional side, where she would breakdown to Thomas about how messed up it was to be always at the top where no one else could challenge her. She thrived in competition, at least healthy ones, and she needed a muse to keep her going for more.
Brenda took it upon herself to look at Thomas in a way she never thought before, to see him as someone that could challenge her to be better and to still be her friend when there was nothing to compete over. It was how they got into study groups together.
He found it insane how studying together after school would lead them to trying to capture each other’s heart. The notes she would leave in certain pages for him to find or the texts that would involve a math problem that Thomas had to solve and graph to get the coordinates of “I like you.” The romance was there along with the feelings, the kisses, the sex, the late night calls, but it was still missing something. Thomas found it good to be with her until it slowly died down.
Romantic feelings were always temporarily to him.
She and him ended before the second to last month of school. Thomas could surely say that Brenda punched at the same force as falling face-first upon concrete floor. He took it because he was trying to show he was strong, but it still hurt — emotionally and physically. One by one, Thomas felt his life going in a rotating circle of happiness only being fleeting as sadness remained endless.
It was strange to say the least. Thomas wanted someone to be by his side, but people who committed to being by his side ended up getting tossed to the side or getting hurt by him. It was not like the brunet was a bad person, but he was experiencing on how people could stay in love. It was a challenge, for Thomas to continuing loving one person solely drove him away instead. Eventually, he gave up because it was not in his place to experiment in high school when he had college years to use as the zenith of social experimentation.
Thomas shut himself out of the world of romance, and he began to venture into the path of his studies only. He began keeping a distance that would keep his heart and him safe from harm. He stopped smiling too much and maintained a bored and angry face when he was often alone. His face eventually cleared, and it was perfect to have skin that did not have pimples multiplying at the same speed as China’s birth rate.
On Thomas’s bright side, AP exams were finished and the senior student body began relaxing once again. Classes, especially AP-related classes, were beginning to slow down as they were reaching the end of the year. The final year that teachers would see all their beautiful senior students and send them off to college or wherever the hell they wanted to go. It was approaching fast, and Thomas was ready for it: adulthood.
It was going to be one amazing night because the seniors were going to be on their way to Disneyland and California Adventures. They had awaited for the beautiful day all year long to go on this trip. It was the reason students worked so hard for their grades to be passing and to be able to gather the money to attend the event. It was going to be a wonderful night full of rides and thrills, and Thomas could not wait to try an overpriced churro.
Arriving at Disneyland was not spectacular at first, the weather was blazing and the amusement park was not closed off from the public yet. Plethora of people running around with their boyfriends and girlfriends, kids shooting bubbles at each other, and old people sitting down in almost every available seat. Thomas got through the entrance checking that was strictly for high school students for GradNite.
It was not like he needed that half-finished water bottle, anyway. The rule for that seemed unjustified, but it was whatever because it was the night that was supposed to be one of the most memorable things of his high school life.
Newt held onto Thomas’s hand and dragged him into an accessory store immediately. The time spent on silly hats and other Disney-related items was short because Thomas complained about not eating yet. Newt did get one pair of Mickey ears for himself.
Thomas admitted that overpriced food was also a problem on someone relying on forty bucks for the remainder of the night. Although hunger drove him to buy almost twenty-dollars worth of food. It was not even that good, either. Decent pasta and breadsticks should have been enough, but Thomas did not enjoy how the food was already half-cold when he got it. It probably lost its warmth during the long wait to check out his damn meal. It was absurd how much time he spent on it, too.
Thomas sighed, sitting down at a table that was recently cleaned by one of the food court cleaners. Newt sat on the opposite side of the table from him and smiled as he picked at his meatball with his spaghetti. “Ain’t it fun today? We will be college students soon, Tommyboy.”
“Ugh, I hate this.” Thomas rolled his eyes, not bothering to stab at his half-finished food. “The lines are killing me.”
“Oh shut the bloody hell up, mate.” Newt was certainly not having Thomas’s vibe. “Enjoy your food, you low-life of a person.”
“Bite me,” Thomas retorted, shoving a pile of cold pasta into his mouth.
The day went by as quick as an Olympic runner champion, and Thomas was slowly enjoying himself more. The rides he screamed on, the food he delightfully ate, the money he regrettably lost, and especially the people that laughed around him. It was all, by Disneyland’s own definition, the world’s happiest place on Earth.
The street lamps placed around the amusement park lit up, but the neon toys and other related items lit up the park more. It was truly magical how so many different colors could shine when the night was ruling the clouds. Thomas stopped being with Newt after Newt was dragged along with their other friend Alby. Thomas did not mind being alone, though.
He could finally take a break instead, sitting at the bench that was directly behind the scene where the World of Color would show. Thomas looked at his SnapChat and noticed all the people that had very vivid colors of the Disneyland attractions all over their stories. He smiled and laughed at a few of them, and he was truly content looking at other people’s happiness.
His smile disappeared once someone stepped in front of him. “Really, shuck-face? This is what you do at the best place on Earth?”
A voice Thomas recognized and then realized who it was. “Minho?”
“Yeah, I’m here too, but fancy seeing you here,” the Asian male chuckled, taking an open seat next to Thomas.
Thomas felt his heart starting to bump again. “Y-You sound like Newt when you talk, so shuddup.”
Minho smiled, looking at the brunet with something new in his eyes. It was too long since he enjoyed himself, and Minho was finally going to achieve his own personal happiness with good company. “I wanted you know that you stuck out the most in my head.”
Thomas’s heart swelled more, and it was beginning to overflood. “I-I—”
But Minho interrupted him. “I never thought it would be like this in my entire life. Running and running from my problems, my very limited friends, and family.”
Thomas was lost at what the other male was saying, but he did not dare say anything in case Minho was not done talking.
“I liked how you were the only person that got and knew my name when we were young,” Minho continued his spontaneous speech. “How you caught me that one night and chased me around the whole shucking—”
“Fucking, just fucking say fucking,” Thomas had to intervene, laughing as he grew tired of hearing those weird slang Minho developed.
“Whole fucking neighborhood.” Minho warmly smiled. “The more I left to get away from everyone, the more you appeared in my life. For good or bad, I wanted to see you each time.”
“What are you trying to say, dumbass?” Thomas uttered in annoyance, because his heart was already drowning in anxiety and anticipation at what he believed Minho was getting at with his words.
Kids ran past them in childish laughter as the water show behind them began. Loud music from various Disney movies played as the water spout out into the night sky extremely high.
Blue changed to red. The water changed in pattern. Red became green and yellow. It kept going on like that as the smell of churros and popcorn filled the air with a home-welcoming scent. Minho cleared his throat and put his courage on the next set of words, “As Haley Williams puts it!”
The music got louder that forced Minho to shout it out to the world, “Even after all this time, I’m into you. Baby not a day goes by when I’m not into youuuu!”
The stretching on the note made Thomas laughed uncontrollably at the same time he realized what Minho had just said aloud. Thomas whispered knowing that Minho could not hear it because of the ear-breaking music in the background, “After all this time.”