Yoongi had come to accept that he’d never be truly happy until after he’d graduated high school.
Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he stared the older boy down as he swallowed said boy’s release. Not quite a challenge but definitely flaunting his confidence as he watched him drop his eyes and fumble with his belt.
Being openly gay in Korea alone was frowned upon. And Yoongi, being the only openly gay student at his school, was convinced that nothing would ever work out in his favor.
The most important factor was that Min Yoongi was the only openly homosexual kid that attended this particular school. Plenty of his peers, though their lips stayed sealed outside of their time together, had been bold enough to experiment.
Yoongi was accustomed to being publically humiliated, belittled, and harrassed by other boys in his grade, only to find himself helping to get them off in the bathroom not an hour later. It usually was the same situation more or less. He’d be called the foulest insults the brutes could think of offhand, show them a ‘good time’ when they asked, and, sometimes, be threatened to keep his mouth shut if he wanted to live that day. And he’d come to expect and believe those threats after he’d walked home one night, barely able to walk with more than a few broken bones, spitting blood as he climbed the front steps to his house.
It wasn’t by any means a blissful lifestyle. But, most often, serving as a warm hole or open mouth for other more closeted boys could be rather enjoyable. He knew it was pathetic. He knew it wasn’t sensible in the slightest. But he was willing to take what he could get at this point. A handful of the…encounters, weren’t ended with harsh warnings or death threats. Usually he was just helping to soothe another school boy who wasn’t able to be as confident in his sexuality as Yoongi seemed to be. No matter the case, most often Yoongi left satisfied from these incidents, knowing he might as well take whatever was being offered at that point.
He needed two hands to count the amount of times he’d been called a little whore or easy for his eagerness to please in this manner.
Min Yoongi knew he wouldn’t be happy until after high school was far behind him. But the amount of regrets he had for living the way he had the past few years was decently limited. Still, had he lost hope in finding a partner who would ever value him as more than just a vessel for their own sexual desires? Most definitely.
He’d learned the hard way what happened when you mixed feelings with sex. And he’d vowed to himself to keep that lesson burned into his memory as long as he was trapped in school.
He was abruptly pushed from of his thoughts by the shrill sounding of the bell ringing above them… Or rather, him. The boy he’d accompanied to the washroom was already gone when he got to his feet. Collecting his book bag from where it sat crumpled beside the first stall, he placed the straps securely over his shoulders, heaving a sigh as he pushed past the wooden door and joined the parade of chattering students on their way towards their next class.
Once he reached his classroom, he dropped his bag and took a seat, his professor starting by going over the lesson they’d apparently been unable to complete the day before and announcing they’d be picking up where they left off.
“The second half of the assignment is a partner activity. So you will be paired with the person to your right.” Yoongi surveyed the room as every student turned. He lazily studied the mixed looks of worry and contentment as the teacher drawled on about the details of their upcoming project. Yoongi didn’t have anyone on his right hand side. He was in the last row, closest to the wall and the uneven number of students in his row would inevitably mean he would be forced to form a group of three with the two other students closest to him. Which was delightful because one of said students he’d relieved on more than one occasion after school but who continued to present himself as straight to his classmates. And from the way he was looking at the girl on his right, he clearly was trying to convince her he was interested. If the way he puffed out his chest was any indication.
Yoongi resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Looks like I’m your partner.” He heard from…his right? But no one sat on that side, there were only three in the last row --
“I suppose it’s new for you to not be in a group of three, right Yoongi-hyung?”
Finally, Yoongi turned to give the person addressing him his attention. And he couldn’t exactly say he was disappointed with the circumstances. The person speaking was Kim Namjoon. A boy Yoongi couldn’t say he knew well but had definitely shared classes with in the past. He hadn’t actually shared a class with him since his second year of high school though, and he would admit he had never made an actual attempt to befriend him. They’d talked to each other, sure, but apart from the fact that Namjoon was a bit of a nerd, Yoongi couldn’t say he knew much about him.
“Yeah, I’ve never had a partner to work with in this class before. When did you join this class, Namjoon-ah?” He replied, still not entirely confident with referring to him as he was younger. He was, indeed, younger than Yoongi. He skipped a grade and would be graduating this year alongside him, but from the other boy’s intellect and impressive height you’d never guess he was younger. He was one of the few people Yoongi knew from his grade who attended hagwon to try and improve his already decent grade to get into a better university. He probably wouldn’t have had any trouble doing so without it if he wasn’t so swamped with class and homework.
“I -- uh, switched classes. Your spot was empty yesterday so I’m guessing you don’t know what we were studying?” he replied, And Yoongi struggled not to blush because his voice was so DEEP.
“I honestly have no idea what he was talking about when I walked in.” Yoongi confessed, finding himself very embarrassed by the fact that Namjoon, who hadn’t even been here a week, knew more about what they were learning than he did.
“I'm lucky we were starting something new in this class, because I’d probably be lost without context,” Namjoon assured him.
“You’ll have a week to finish this assignment. I suggest you work outside of class to finish it on time. I'll finish going over the specifics and then let you decide a topic. That's going to be all the time we have for today.” The teacher said and Yoongi cast a look in the other boy’s direction, a smirk playing at his lips.
“Looks like we’ll need to meet up. Tomorrow after school? In the library?” Yoongi suggested.
“Yeah, no problem. You can also come to my place if you want. My mom works late so we won't be bothered.” Yoongi’s smirk only widened at that. It was next to impossible to ignore that Namjoon was attractive. Dyed dark blond hair that was pushed away from his forehead, dark-rimmed glasses that always threatened to fall off the bridge of his nose, clearly needing to be adjusted. His strong jaw and large hands were definitely awe-inducing. And the older would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about said hands over his own body once or twice in the past.
Yoongi knew he’d had a girlfriend his first year of high school but that they’d broken up rather quickly after starting their relationship if Namjoon’s red eyes and consistent silence in class the following days was any indication. He also never saw them together after that.
He was also aware he had absolutely no right to try and pursue him. His devastation after the breakup made it painfully clear that he most definitely wouldn’t ever be interested in someone like Yoongi. But while he hadn’t had the chance to try, rarely talking to him in the past, he had always wanted to… Perhaps this partner project was a chance to do just that.
As they discussed topics, Yoongi quickly picked up on just how enthusiastic Namjoon was about the class he’d just joined. Yoongi had never been fond of school. His grades had managed to stay only slightly below average. But it didn’t just seem to be about school. Namjoon spoke with a passion. A passion that only had Yoongi more and more intrigued as he rambled on about something so abstract Yoongi was pretty sure he’d never heard it even mentioned in his lifetime.
When they finally settled on something Yoongi was pretty sure he knew a fair bit about, the bell went off and Yoongi shifted to get more comfortable in his seat. Their next professor would be coming in shortly, and he took the chance between classes to turn his attention to a scribbled on sheet in the notebook he’d slipped out to write down some of the things Namjoon had mentioned prior.
Said scribbles were often the lyrics buzzing around in his brain at the time. He found that almost everything gave him inspiration nowadays, and the lyrics that came to him now conveniently popped up when he had a moment of downtime. Pulling up the sleeve of his jacket a little he looked at what he’d written on his hand when he hadn’t had a chance to put it down on paper, trying to decipher the smudged writing on his skin and make it into something coherent on the page. He turned his attention again to the front of the room as his teacher strode in, only then noticing Namjoon’s eyes on him. For some reason the sudden attention made him uncomfortable. He was used to boys his age eyeing his body but the way Namjoon’s focus stayed on his hands managed to leave him a little uneasy. Why was he watching him write? What did he hope to gain from doing that?
The question remained unanswered as the next class picked up. Yoongi managed to catch fragments of the teacher’s lesson as he busily etched in the words that came into his brain every few minutes.
This was usually as productive as Yoongi could get in his classes.
His focus turned back to the way Namjoon had played with his bangs when he spoke to him as he made the walk from the bus stop home. Yoongi remembered staring in amazement at how long and slender his fingers were, the sheer size of his hand enough to push Yoongi to the point of fantasizing about just what he could DO with such impressively large hands yet again. He felt excitement bubble up inside him. He’d always been instructed and did as he was told when he fooled around with other students. He’d never once had the chance or been able to decide he wanted to PURSUE another boy before. From the little he knew about his dongsaeng and how desperate he was to have something happen between them after seeing him again for the first time in awhile, he was pretty sure HE’D have to make the first move.
He almost tripped on the top step to his apartment, too focused on his father’s car in the driveway as he climbed the stairs. Pushing open the front door, he crouched to untie his shoes, setting them neatly by the doorway as he walked up to his room. He caught a word or two that his mother mumbled on the way, not really set on telling her how his day was as she clearly wanted him to.
He’d been drumming his fingers to the music pouring in from his earbuds when there was a harsh rap on his door. Reluctantly pulling one bud from his ear, he saw his mother poke her head in.
“Dinner’s ready, come down to eat.” She said, smiling sweetly at Yoongi before moving back and letting the door shut again, the muffled sound of her footsteps becoming more distant as she descended. A sigh left him as he got up, dropping his phone and headphones onto the mattress.
Dinner was quiet. As per usual. In the past three years his parents barely spoke when at the table. They stayed silent, so Yoongi stayed silent. And he couldn’t really complain about that. His mother broke the silence once he lifted his chopsticks, clearing her throat as he dropped them again beside his bowl.
“So your father and I have been thinking. Since you’ll be graduating in a few months, we wanted to discuss what universities you’re looking into,” she said, her eyes crinkling with the effort she put in to smile in his direction.
“I haven’t really looked into any schools yet,” he answered with as much truth laced with the words as they wanted to hear. Of course he’d been looking into colleges, but none of which for a major they’d approve of.
“We thought you might say that. So we wanted to offer to help you look. I’ve done some looking and I think, with a little more effort put into your grades, you could attend Yonsei, like your fath-”
“I already told you, I’m not going to law school. No matter how many times you ask, the answer is gonna be no,” Yoongi grumbled, shifting the wooden utensils distractedly.
“Yoongi, attending law school and putting in the work to get a solid career would be beneficial to your future, an enjoyable and hopefully profitable lifestyle. You’d be able to provide for yourself, for your future wife and childr-”
Yoongi wasted no time in cutting off his chattering mother yet again, “I think I’ve made it pretty clear that isn’t the lifestyle I have in mind.”
His mother simply blinked at him, looking taken aback by the icy tone of his words, but his father seemed to think that was the perfect moment to engage in the conversation.
“And what lifestyle did you think you wanted for yourself then? A one-room apartment and job that can barely pay your bills? Participating in these same vulgar acts until the day you die?” he said without looking up from his noodles.
Yoongi’s mouth felt dry suddenly, as if someone had stuffed cotton between his lips. He struggled to swallow.
“Why don’t you let me worry about my own damn life and where it leads me? My future and possibility of future partner, are none of your business,” Yoongi snapped. It never became any easier, bringing up this topic with his parents.
“Do not speak to your father that way. We’re just…concerned for you. Soon this phase of your life will pass, you’ll want a real career and a real family-”
“How can you be so confident in what you think I want for myself? If you won’t even listen when I try to tell you, how can you possibly have a clue what will make me happy? My life is my own fucking concern. Maybe instead of thinking about steps to go down the path you’ve picked out for me, you should let me figure it out on my own. Since it is my life. You already chose what to do with yours…and look how that turned out.”
Without another word he stood from the table, food untouched and chair legs skidding across the hardwood floor, as he rushed up the stairs and back into his room, collapsing onto his bed and staring at the ceiling.
It was always the same result. On the rare chance his parents would try to speak to him at mealtimes it always led him here. Feeling confused, worthless and doubtful.
“Jeongguk-ah there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
And of course the tears. He pressed his face further into the crook of his elbow, the arm over his face trembling slightly with oncoming tears. Why was he crying? Why did he always end up crying? He was used to this by now. It always ended the same way, he always ended up more uncertain than ever, so why didn’t he expect it and keep running his mouth in front of his parents? Why did he feel the need to say anything at all?
Look where sharing his thoughts had gotten him now.
Yoongi had accepted he would never be happy until he finished high school.
But that didn’t make the time it took to get there any less of a struggle.