Chapter Text
Eom Seonghyeon stood in his bedroom, a tight knot of trepidation in his chest at the thought of a new school year. High school was a gift from hell, and yet another place where he had to pretend.
His room was littered with trophies—"Best Service" awards, sports medals, even a "Best Smile" award, like he was some parody of Gilderoy Lockhart—but none of it mattered. None of it was him. Not anymore.
August 18th crept closer, just two days away, and he wasn't sure he wanted to keep up the facade he'd carried for the past three years—since the day he lost himself, the day he lost the will to live.
Maybe it was dramatic to think this way, but he hadn't truly felt in so long that he wondered what it would even be like to be happy. To feel something genuine instead of the practiced emotions he'd performed for everyone around him.
"Seonghyeon!" his mother hollered from downstairs, shattering the fragile quiet. "Are you ready?"
"Nearly," he called back, adjusting his tie, flattening his hair, slipping on his jacket. He grabbed his lifeline—his phone—and backpack, and descended the stairs.
At the kitchen, both his parents sat at the dining table. What an unwelcome sight.
"I swear," his father clicked his tongue, "if you took this long because you've been staring at yourself in the mirror—"
"Our Seonghyeonnie wouldn't do something like that, would he now?" Mrs. Eom preened. "He's not like those little gay boys he hangs out with."
Seonghyeon clenched his jaw. "Martin and James are—"
"Gay and quite unnatural," his father said firmly. "And you should be thankful we let you grace them with your presence."
"And that's only because you're keeping up your grades, dear," his mother said, smiling though it didn't reach her eyes. To anyone else, it might seem like praise, but Seonghyeon took it for what it was: a warning.
"If they weren't stellar? Forget it." His father snorted.
"Well, dear," Mrs. Eom's laugh screeched like a door on rusty hinges, "it's not like our baby would ever be gay, right?"
If only they knew, Seonghyeon thought.
"Of course not," his father agreed. "He's not like his disgrace of a sister—"
"She's dead," Seonghyeon snapped. Slander of his sister was a line he refused anyone to cross. "She's dead, and you're still harping about her being a lesbian?"
"Of course," Mrs. Eom smiled, venomously polite. "And it's not like it's because she's a girl. If you were gay, I don't think we could even stand the sight of you, sweetie."
Fuck.
"He's not, though," his father said, final. "And we're not entertaining this nonsense at the breakfast table. Let's get you to school, son."
"Yes, Father," Seonghyeon muttered, shoving a bagel into his mouth as he followed his father out the front door. His day, as always, started off shit.
"Hey," Martin greeted him at their usual locker rendezvous. "You look crappy."
"Feel it, too," Seonghyeon muttered.
"Was it your parents?" James asked, sympathetic.
"When is it not?" Seonghyeon sighed, plastering a practiced smile on his face when Tay walked by, giving him a wave and a wink. She was the prettiest girl in school by a mile, the one everyone assumed would win him over eventually.
Martin snorted. "She's really set on having you up her ass."
"That wouldn't be possible," James said slyly. "Because Seonghyeon likes to take it up the ass."
"Shut up, you pair of tops," Seonghyeon said, though he couldn't help the twitch of a smile at their audacity.
"You're just salty we're lucky enough to end up with the guy we like," Martin teased, draping an arm over James's waist, "And if we're both strictly tops, we wouldn't get much done, would we?"
"You guys are disgusting," Seonghyeon muttered, secretly envious of their ease, their confidence. He could never be out and proud like that—unless someone was worth the risk. And of course, there wasn't anyone like that. "Can we change the topic?"
James smiled. "Heard there's a transfer student today. You'll probably have to show him around."
"Why me?" Seonghyeon groaned. "Couldn't it be someone else?"
"Because you're Mr. Perfect," Martin said, then winced as James jabbed him in the ribs. "And... also because you're nice?"
"You couldn't compliment me if you tried," Seonghyeon laughed. "Being student council president is such a drag." (A/N: I love Shikamaru)
"If you want to stay in your house," James gave him a knowing look, "you better suck it up, buttercup."
"James!" Martin snapped.
"Relax," James said. "I have a plan to get you out of that hellhole."
"What's that?"
"You'll see," James smiled.
"Just don't kiss me or something in front of my parents," Seonghyeon muttered, instantly regretting it when he saw their disgusted faces.
"We would never," Martin said, face pale like he'd swallowed something terrible, like his own cooking.
"That would get you killed," James laughed, and the others joined him, though they knew it was far from a joke.
"Well," Seonghyeon shrugged as the bell rang, "let's get it, y'all."
They scampered to class, chased by the looming thought of detention with the English teacher, whose shirt hung dangerously low and whose gaze seemed to sweep every male under eighteen.