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"It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.” — E.E. Cummings
I
The afternoon carried that rare kind of warmth that made time feel slow and generous, as though the day itself had decided there was no reason to rush anyone.
Final year moved with a strange rhythm. The violence and grief of the previous years were no longer spoken about. The union and the bloody war felt less like history now and more like folklore.
School, however, carried on as if nothing had changed. Teachers still piled assignments on them without mercy, and every so often someone reminded them that the exams ahead were meant to determine the course of their entire lives.
Yet the urgency that had once made everything feel suffocating had somehow faded. The pressure that used to weigh on their shoulders in earlier years had loosened, replaced by something lighter... something that felt almost like nostalgia.
They were all aware, even if none of them said it aloud, that this was the last stretch. The last few months where things would remain the way they had always been.
The five of them had taken over the same worn double bench in the park near the school, the spot that had somehow become theirs over the years. The wood was faded and scratched from time and weather, but it had held countless afternoons like this one.
Baku had stretched himself across most of it, long legs dangling over one side as though the bench had been designed specifically with his height in mind. Gotak sat beside him, leaning comfortably against the backrest while holding the drink Baku had brought. He hadn’t asked before taking it, but that had never stopped him before.
Across from them, Juntae paced back and forth with restless energy, waving a thick stack of papers in the air while ranting about college applications. Suho, meanwhile, had fallen asleep almost immediately after sitting down. His head rested against the back of the bench, tilted slightly to one side, his breathing slow and steady like a lazy cat that felt contented and safe. At the far end sat Sieun, quiet and still, looking for all the world like he wasn’t paying attention to any of it.
That illusion had never fooled anyone who knew him well.
Sieun never ignored anything.
He just had a habit of appearing distant, his eyes half-lidded as if he were lost in his own thoughts. Yet every now and then he would casually respond to something Juntae said before anyone else had even fully processed the words. He listened to everything, even when he seemed detached from it.
For the past year or two, their life had settled into this kind of easy rhythm more often than not. Nothing dramatic. Nothing overwhelming. Just long afternoons spent together, conversations drifting between nonsense and serious things.
And today was just another comfortable day... until the shouting started.
The sound came from the basketball court on the far side of the park. At first it blended into the usual noise; balls bouncing, kids arguing, distant traffic… but the tone sharpened quickly, turning harsh in a way that immediately drew attention.
A group of younger boys had gathered near the chain-link fence surrounding the court.
Middle schoolers, probably.
In the middle of them stood another kid.
He had been backed against the fence with nowhere to go, his shoulders stiff and his body drawn tight as if he were bracing for something worse than the words already being thrown at him.
The insults were ugly in the way that only certain words could be.
Words designed not just to hurt, but to stick.
“Faggot.”
“Freak.”
“You’re fucking gay.”
“Say you’re a faggot.”
“Are you too embarrassed to admit what you are?”
The boy’s shoulders trembled.
Suho woke up instantly.
One moment he had been asleep, and the next he was already standing, his expression alert in that quiet way that made people listen even when he wasn’t trying to sound intimidating.
“Hey,” he called out across the court.
The boys turned.
Suho didn’t raise his voice or shout threats. He simply stood there, his tone calm but firm enough that it carried across the distance.
“That’s enough.”
They recognized him immediately.
Ever since Suho transferred a year ago, everyone at school had come to know his name.
And when Baku rose beside him... tall, silent, and looking thoroughly unimpressed with what he was seeing, the message became impossible to ignore.
The group broke apart almost immediately.
They didn’t run dramatically, but they retreated fast enough to look like a flock of startled pigeons taking off at the first sign of trouble.
The kid they had cornered mumbled a quick thank-you before slipping through the open gate and disappearing down the street.
After that, it fell quiet again.
Not the relaxed quiet from earlier, but the kind that lingered too long.
Juntae had stopped pacing entirely. The papers in his hands hung limp at his sides.
Gotak felt something settle heavily in his chest, though he couldn’t quite name the feeling.
Suho brushed his hands together like he had just finished a small chore and sat back down on the bench.
For a while, nobody spoke.
The silence wasn’t uncomfortable exactly, but it carried a weight none of them seemed eager to disturb.
Eventually, Sieun did.
“That felt familiar. I remember our middle school was something like that, more or less.” he said.
His voice was softer than usual.
Suho let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh.
“Yeah,” he said. “It was.”
Gotak looked between the two of them, curiosity flickering in his expression.
Suho leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head as if settling into an old memory.
“People talk when two guys are close,” he said after a moment. “And me and Sieun were close. Probably closer than most boys that age usually are.”
Sieun didn’t look embarrassed by the admission. If anything, he seemed reflective.
“We didn’t understand what we were feeling back then,” he said quietly. “Or what it meant. All we knew was that we didn’t want to lose each other.”
Suho nodded.
“And we definitely weren’t subtle about it,” he added. “We didn’t know how to hide anything. So we didn’t.”
He shrugged lightly.
“Kids don’t react well to anything that looks or feel different.”
There was no bitterness in his voice, which somehow made the story feel heavier.
“We’re fine now,” Sieun said, glancing at Suho with a warmth that spoke volumes without needing explanation. “But back then it was confusing. And it hurt.”
He paused before continuing.
“I stopped counting how many times someone called me a faggot,” he admitted. “Or how often people threw the word gay around like it was some kind of insult meant to make me ashamed of who I am.”
Gotak’s stomach twisted and without realizing it, his gaze drifted toward Baku.
Baku was staring at the basketball court again. His jaw had tightened in that familiar way it did when something bothered him, but he hadn’t decided whether or not it was worth punching someone over.
He looked quiet. Protective.
Eventually the conversation shifted again. Juntae resumed complaining about universities, Suho teased him for worrying too much, and the comfortable rhythm between them slowly returned.
But the moment stayed with Gotak long after they left the park.
II
On the walk home, the image of the kid by the fence refused to leave Gotak’s mind.
At first he tried to shake it off the way people usually did with uncomfortable moments... by talking about something else, by focusing on the rhythm of his steps, by letting the familiar streets distract him. But the scene kept replaying itself anyway.
The way the boy’s back had pressed against the chain-link fence.
The way his shoulders had trembled while those other kids circled him.
And the words.
Those words had stayed behind like something sticky and unpleasant clinging to the inside of Gotak’s head.
He kept hearing them again.
Faggot.
Freak.
He had heard those words before, of course. Everyone had. But hearing them thrown at someone like that... watching the way they landed made them feel heavier somehow.
Then his thoughts drifted back to what Sieun and Suho had said.
The way they talked about middle school so casually, like it had simply been something they survived and moved on from.
But Gotak had noticed the quiet under their voices. The kind of quiet people only carried when something had hurt enough that they learned how to fold it away.
He tried to imagine what that must have been like.
Being that age.
Being confused about your own feelings.
And then having everyone around you decide those feelings were something disgusting.
Something laughable.
Something comparable to dirt.
The thought sat uneasily in his stomach.
Because it wasn’t that hard to imagine himself there.
The jokes people made about him and Baku floated into his mind next.
They were never meant to be cruel. At least, not on the surface.
Most of the time it was just the usual teasing that happened whenever someone noticed how inseparable the two of them were.
Someone would grin and nudge their friend and say something like...
Are they dating or what?
It was always said like a punchline.
Always followed by laughter, as if the idea itself was absurd enough to be funny.
And usually, Gotak laughed too. It was easier that way.
No one’s ever straight-up said it to him in a nasty way or anything. Especially not with Baku in the room.
Probably because most people weren’t particularly interested in discovering what Baku’s fist felt like when it connected with their jaw.
Still, the thought lingered.
Because jokes had a strange way of changing shape when people stopped laughing.
What if someone said it seriously one day?
What if the tone shifted?
What if it wasn’t a grin and a nudge anymore, but a group of people standing in front of them the way those boys had stood around that kid by the fence?
Gotak’s imagination betrayed him then.
He pictured it too clearly.
Someone calling him faggot the way those kids had earlier.
Someone saying it with disgust, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear.
Maybe someone shoving him.
Maybe someone laughing while doing it.
He imagined Baku beside him in that moment.
And that made the knot in his chest tighten even more.
Because Baku would fight.
That was the obvious outcome.
Baku wouldn’t stand there quietly while someone insulted Gotak.
He would swing first and ask questions later.
And then what?
A fight in the middle of campus. Teachers and parents getting involved.
Discipline. Rumors spreading faster than either of them could stop them.
Those two are gay.
The phrase echoed unpleasantly in his mind.
It wouldn’t matter whether it was true or not. Once people decided on something like that, they rarely let it go.
The thought followed him all the way home.
III
That night, sleep refused to come easily.
Gotak lay on his back staring at the ceiling, watching faint shadows shift across it while his mind refused to settle.
Every time he closed his eyes, the same scenes played out again.
Sometimes he imagined himself in Sieun’s place years ago, younger and unsure, standing in the middle of a hallway while someone whispered something behind his back.
Sometimes he imagined being Suho instead... pretending not to care while hearing those words thrown around like they meant nothing.
Other times his thoughts returned to the kid at the fence.
Except this time, when he pictured the scene, it wasn’t that boy standing there anymore.
It was him and Baku.
Someone laughing.
Someone sneering.
Someone saying faggot like it was the most natural insult in the world.
Gotak turned onto his side and buried his face halfway into his pillow.
He hated how easily his mind kept building these scenarios.
College was only a few months away.
That thought returned again and again.
He and Baku had already talked about getting a place together. Sharing an apartment had seemed like the most natural plan imaginable after spending years glued to each other’s side.
At the time it had felt simple.
Now the idea came with questions.
What would people think when they heard about it?
Two guys deciding to live together.
Always showing up as a package deal.
Always right there next to each other.
It definitely won't help that they’re so stupidly comfortable around one another…or that Baku has zero concept of personal space when it comes to him.
Would people laugh about it the same way they did now?
Or would they start looking at them differently?
Would someone eventually say something?
The questions tangled together in his mind, twisting and pressing against his chest until it felt impossibly tight. He tried to reason, tried to set aside the fear of what people might think of them... of their closeness, their constant presence at each other’s side, the way they moved together almost as if they were a single person. But no matter how hard he pushed those worries aside, one question kept clawing its way to the surface.
What am I?
It was the question that scared him more than anything else. Not the rumors, not the judgment, not even the fights that might come if someone decided to push too far... it was this. The raw, unrelenting truth that he couldn’t yet name.
He knew one thing with absolute certainty: the way he felt for Baku was not just friendship. Not just best friends. Not the easy comfort of childhood companions who had grown up together. It was something deeper. Something that reached beyond loyalty or habit.
He loved him.
He loved him in a way that made his chest ache and his stomach twist with anticipation, with longing, with fear. He wanted to be with him... forever. Every morning he woke up, he wanted Baku there. Every laugh, every silence, every small mundane moment seemed hollow if Baku wasn’t part of it.
But… was that love gay?
The word itself felt foreign in his mouth. He had thrown it around casually before, as if it were just another label, another box to check. But now, standing or rather lying alone in his room with only the ceiling as a witness, the word carried weight. The truth of it.
Am I really gay? The way Sieun and Juntae are? Or am I more like Suho?
The thought made his stomach drop and his heart race all at once. He wanted to shake it off, to convince himself it was just… affection. Attachment. Something like the bond of friends who had grown up together and refused to let go. But that explanation didn’t fit. Not anymore.
Every part of him knew the answer already, in the way his chest tightened when Baku was near, in the way his mind lingered on him when he was gone, in the way he imagined their future together in ways that could never be platonic.
He rolled onto his back again, staring at the ceiling as hours crept by, shadows shifting across the walls like echoes of his racing thoughts. He tried to distract himself, to reason around the question, but it circled back with relentless precision.
Am I fucking gay?
The sky outside his window began to lighten slowly, the first hints of morning brushing the edges of the city. Birds chirped somewhere in the distance. And yet, Gotak lay there, trapped between certainty and doubt, knowing one thing above all: whatever the word might be, whatever label it carried, he could not deny what he felt for Baku. He loved him. He wanted him. He wanted to be with him. Forever. Baku is what he could never give up.
And that… that had to mean something.
IV
Just like every morning since middle school, Baku was already waiting outside his house.
Leaning against the fence with a sleepy face.
Gotak walked toward him slowly, the questions still spinning through his mind.
“Baku,” he said suddenly.
Baku looked up, one brow raised, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “No good morning, sunshine? You look tired, dumbass. What’s going on?”
Gotak shoved his hands into his pockets.
“If that had been us,” he began carefully, “like Suho and Sieun back then… I think I’d be scared.”
Baku didn’t laugh.
Encouraged by the silence, Gotak kept talking.
“I mean… it would be confusing, right? Not knowing what it means. Not knowing what people are going to say about it.”
He swallowed before finishing the thought.
“But one thing I’m sure about…”
Baku slowed slightly.
Gotak forced himself not to look away.
“If being gay means feeling exactly how I feel about you right now,” he said quietly, “then I guess that’s what I am.”
Baku slowed down. Somewhere nearby a motorcycle revved loudly before disappearing down the street.
Gotak’s heart pounded so loudly he could hear it.
“If it’s gay to want to stay by your side,” he continued, “or to hope we stay like this forever… then yeah. I guess I am.”
Baku stared at him for a long moment.
Then his expression softened in a way that made Gotak’s chest tighten.
“You guess?” he muttered.
Gotak groaned. “Don’t start. I’m serious. This is a big deal. If I am really gay... people might talk. People might say shit. You might get hurt, idiot.”
Baku stepped closer, just enough that their shoulders brushed.
“Gogo, you don’t need to rush into labeling yourself,” he said quietly. “And you don’t need to be scared of the world either.”
He flicked Gotak lightly on the forehead.
“If anyone tries to make you feel small about it... well I’ll try not to smash their faces.”
“You’ll try?” Gotak said.
“Can't make promises.”
Baku started walking, pulling Gotak with him.
“But I’ll be right there beside you... whatever happens, you won’t have to face it alone. If people talk, if they try to start something, I will be standing there with you.” Baku said, his voice quieter now, steady in that way it always was when he meant something. He glanced at Gotak briefly before looking ahead again.
“And don’t worry about me getting hurt,” he added with a small shrug. “Nothing’s going to hurt me that easily, Gogo. As long as we’re still standing next to each other, I’ll be fine.”
Something warm pushed the lingering tension out of Gotak’s chest.
“You’re ridiculously cheesy,” he muttered.
“Shut up.”
They kept walking until the school gate came into view ahead of them.
Suho and Sieun were already there, arguing about something while Juntae was busy looking for something inside his bag.
Gotak nudged Baku’s shoulder as they walked.
“Hey.”
Baku didn’t even turn his head. “What.”
Gotak slowed his steps slightly, the word sitting awkwardly in his throat like he had been holding it there for a while.
“If it turns out I really am gay…”
Baku exhaled through his nose, a quiet sound that carried just a hint of impatience.
“Gogo, does that actually change anything?”
“Just answer,” Gotak said, stubbornly.
That finally made Baku stopped walking and look at him. There was no teasing in his expression. No dismissive smirk. Instead, his gaze lingered in a way that suggested he knew how important this moment was.
“If you’re gay, does that mean I lose you?” he asked. “Because if it doesn’t, then it doesn’t really matter to me.”
Gotak blinked.
“As for me… I honestly don’t know,” Baku admitted. “The label, I mean. I’ve never really seriously thought about it.”
He paused, searching for the right words.
“Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not.”
Then he shrugged.
“But I do know how I feel about you, Gogo.”
Heat crept up Gotak’s ears immediately.
Baku noticed. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
“So if you wake up one day completely certain you’re gay,” he said, “that actually works out pretty well for me.”
Gotak nearly stumbled over his own feet.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Baku glanced sideways at him again.
This time the softness in his eyes wasn’t subtle.
“It means I’m lucky.”
Gotak blinked. “Lucky?”
Baku’s shoulders rose in a small, casual shrug.
“If you’re straight, staying with me the way I want… that probably wouldn’t work. At least not forever,” Baku said thoughtfully. “But if you’re not… then we can stay the same. Because I can be everything you need... everything you want.”
He hesitated before continuing.
“And for me, as long as you decide to stay by my side, it doesn't matter whatever label you choose. Nothing else will matter for me, honestly.”
Then he added quietly,
“I’ve tried imagining this with someone else. A girl. Another guy. Anyone.”
He shook his head slightly.
“It doesn’t make sense when I picture it. None of it feels right.”
Baku looked at him again.
“For me, it’s just you.”
Gotak’s face burned.
“I doubt I’d ever feel this way about anyone else,” Baku continued calmly. “Not a woman. Not another man. Just you. Maybe… my label is just you, Gogo.”
Gotak stopped walking entirely.
“Idiot. It doesn't work like that.” he muttered under his breath.
Baku looked amused. In one casual motion he yanked Gotak tight against his side and draped an arm over his shoulders, sealing them together like it was nothing.
They started moving again, the school gate now only a few steps away.
Gotak tried to act normal... he lasted maybe three seconds.
Without thinking, he grabbed the sleeve of Baku’s jacket.
Under the quiet light of another morning during their final year of high school, surrounded by friends who had survived their own storms, Gotak finally understood something simple.
Whatever the world eventually chose to call them...
They wouldn’t face it alone.
His grip on Baku’s sleeve tightened slightly as he spoke.
“I’m not sure about the label yet either,” Gotak admitted. “Whether I’m gay or maybe bisexual or whatever.”
Then he met Baku’s eyes.
“But one thing’s for damn sure... I know exactly what I feel about you too, idiot.”