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Minho had known he was gay since he was a kid. He remembers playing in the field behind his elementary school, rolling in the grass, picking daisies for a boy he liked. He remembers sitting in the classroom, coming in while it was still dark, just to make sure he could sit next to the boy.
He also remembers what the boy’s reaction was when he finally understood what was going on.
It was a sunny day, but the weather didn’t fit. It should have been raining — storming — it should’ve been showering down with cold wetness to drench Minho as he stood in the parking lot, his own tears like rain falling down his face.
The weather was too nice, the air too warm, the sky too bright. It seemed like a day for childlike joy and wonder, a day for dreams to come true. Maybe that was cheesy, but those were Minho’s feelings, his hopes from the start of the day. Before it all came crashing down.
“I like you,” Minho had said, sitting on the curb, head tilted to smile at the boy. The boy whose name he could still remember, yet couldn’t speak of.
“I like you too?” The kid had not understood, the eight year old unaware that Minho could even harbor those feelings.
Minho’s eyes had widened, his hopes rising dangerously. “Really?” he exclaimed all too loudly.
“Yeah, you’re my friend, why would I be friends with someone if I didn’t like them?”
Minho’s face fell, but he wasn’t about to give up. Not yet. Maybe he should have, though.
“No, I mean…” He looked up toward the sky, hand clenching the daisy that he had in his hand. “I mean that I like-like you.”
Minho finally worked up the courage to lift his arm and open his palm, presenting the wilted daisy to his crush. His eyes landed on the other boy’s, ready to see his reaction. He wished he hadn’t — wished he had never done any of this at all.
“What the heck?” the boy exclaimed. “That’s for girls!”
He looked angry. Minho didn’t understand why he would be angry, he talked about how he liked girls all the time. ‘That’s for girls!’ he had said, and Minho wasn’t a girl. Was there something wrong with him? Were boys not supposed to do things like this?
“But–” Minho didn’t know what to say, he had no rebuttals. His sentence fell flat.
“You’re gross!”
Those simple words, said so sharply, hurt him more than he thought they ever could. Two words turned his world on its axis, two words turned his love into self hatred. Something was wrong with him.
The next day, the whole class knew about it. No one wanted to sit next to him, and when the teachers asked Minho what happened, he broke down sobbing. He didn’t know what was so wrong about it, but there was obviously a flaw within him. Otherwise, there would be no reason for this behavior from his classmates.
The bullying got worse, and Minho never told his parents. He didn’t want to admit that something was wrong with him, he wanted them to love him. Thankfully, Minho ended up moving not long after the incident due to his mom’s work, and he was able to gain a fresh start.
Much, much later he would meet a Han Jisung who would once again turn his world on its axis, but this time for the better.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Jisung asked.
Jisung wanted Minho to live his most authentic self, never wanted him to be ashamed, and was always supportive. However, he knew how hard it was for Minho to come out to his parents. Minho had met Jisung’s parents plenty of times, his boyfriend’s family was very supportive and loved the both of them.
But Minho needed to be honest to his own parents.
“I do. I’m sure.”
“Okay,” Jisung said, kissing him once on the lips. “I’ll be there for you the whole time.”
They had arrived at Minho’s parents’ house a few minutes before the designated time. Minho hadn't wanted to be late, wanted to show his parents that this meeting meant something to him, that it was important, and that he took it seriously.
“You're gonna be alright,” Jisung said, sensing his boyfriend's anxiety as he squeezed his hand. “They love you — I love you.”
Minho turned his head toward the man, offering a small smile. He was glad he brought Jisung with him, he didn't know if he could do this alone.
“Thank you, I know, and I love you too.”
“Good.” Jisung brought Minho’s hand up to his mouth to press a soft kiss to the back.
They got out of the car, heading towards the front door of the house. Minho’s legs were shaking, and his feet felt heavier than usual. Still, he kept telling himself he could do this. His parents loved him, they were likely to accept him, and if they didn't… Well, he had Jisung to fall back on. Jisung and a whole group of friends back home.
He brought his trembling hand up to ring the doorbell, swallowing down the excess spit pooling in his mouth — a clear sign of his nausea.
“Honey, he’s here!” Minho heard a voice from inside the house. It was his mom.
The door burst open to reveal a short, plump woman who was beaming at the two of them.
“Oh sweetie, I’m so happy you’re finally visiting! It’s been so long!”
“I'm sorry, mom,” Minho apologized, and he really did mean it. “I’ve been… busy.”
He had been too busy spiraling about his sexuality, not knowing how to reveal it to his parents, but he kept that part to himself for now.
“It’s okay, dear, I’m just glad you're here now.” Then she turned toward Jisung, surprise taking over her features. “Oh! And you brought a friend?”
“Yeah, sure…” Minho didn't know how to respond to that. He didn't want to lie, he didn't want Jisung to feel like he was a dirty secret, but he would tell her soon. As soon as possible.
“Hello, ma’am, it's nice to meet you,” Jisung greeted, smiling warmly. He had been wanting to meet the parents for a while now. “I’m Jisung.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Jisung!” Minho’s mother patted him on the shoulder, ushering them inside. “Come, come. And please, call me Seoyeon.”
They entered the house, looking around. Not much had changed since Minho was a kid. There were still family photos covering the walls, the somewhat ugly throw carpet in the living room was the same, and there was the smell of food wafting from the kitchen. It was still as home-y as ever.
“You have a lovely home,” Jisung complimented.
“Thank you!” Seoyeon was eating it up, and Minho knew that Jisung was being genuine. “Let’s set the table for dinner, shall we? The food is ready.”
They agreed to help of course, setting glasses of water in everyone’s spots. Seoyeon fixed everyone’s plates, and too soon they sat down to eat. Minho was not ready. Would he ever be ready? He could feel sweat beading on his forehead, his breathing had increased slightly. He didn’t know if he could eat.
“Are you alright, dear?” his mom interrupted his spiraling.
“Hm?” Minho managed.
“You're looking pale… do you feel sick?”
Minho paused. He could get out of this. He could tuck his tail between his legs and run away like a coward. He could say he was feeling sick and get out of this unscathed.
But when he glanced over at Jisung, he knew that wasn't an option. He didn't want that to be an option.
“Actually, I’m just nervous.” He took a deep breath. “I have something to tell you.”
Minho’s dad, who was often quiet, looked up and furrowed his eyebrows. Minho knew that was a sign of worry in his usually stoic demeanor.
“Are you alright, son?” he asked in his deep voice.
The voice that used to scare the bullies away, the voice that would sing lullabies to him so that he could sleep, the voice to softly comfort him when he felt hopeless. His parents had always been there for him, so why was he so scared? The world was a cruel place, but his parents were kind.
“Yes, I’m actually more than alright. I’m very, very happy,” Minho said, finally smiling. He grabbed Jisung’s hand and brought it above the table, lacing their fingers together. “Mom, Dad. I’m gay and Jisung is my boyfriend.”
He held his breath, closing his eyes, but opened them when he heard a weak voice coming from his mom.
“How long have you two been together?”
Was he wrong? Were they upset?
“A year,” he answered cautiously.
His mom started sobbing. This wasn't how this was supposed to go, this was all wrong, all wrong.
His dad rubbed soothing circles on his mom’s back, whispering ‘it’s okay’. Minho had fucked up. But then…
“I’m so sorry you felt you couldn't tell us,” his mom said through hiccups. “I love you — we love you, so, so much. We would never want you to feel ashamed of any part of yourself, we will always love you.”
Minho was floored. His mom approved so easily, she wasn't upset Minho was gay, she was sad that he hadn't trusted her. Minho started to tear up too, not knowing how to process this. He felt a gentle squeeze on his hand from Jisung, and when he caught his eyes, he saw that he was also crying.
“Your mom is right, Minho,” his father said. “We love you. Honestly, we were worried that you were too closed off, that you didn't have any support in your new city. We are so grateful for Jisung.” He turned toward said man. “Thank you for taking care of our son.”
“Of course,” Jisung said through his own tears. “He takes care of me too.”