Chapter one

Quietly walking through the halls to get to his class without passing any of his bullies, he almost tripped. His face flushed with embarrassment. Of course he was dumb and clumsy.

"Ha! Dumbass almost fell!" Woojin, his bullies friends laughed and pointed out. Minho quickly rushed away, tears threating to fall. But he managed to blink them away and get to first period.

There, he sat by his friends, Han and Hyunjin of course. They smiled and talked with him. Though he really didn't say anything but nod or slightly laugh. Han and Hyunjin understood. They didn't pressure him at all. They cared, and it always put Minho at ease.

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"Hey, fag! Why so quiet, hm? Oh, right..Youre fucking scared! HA!" Hangsa mocked, and his friends laughed along. Han and Hyunjin immediately stood up for him. Hyunjin was a good boxer, Han just knew how to roast people. Really good. And rap. He felt greatful but humiliated. He always thought of himself as useless. Was he really?

Yeah.

When they finally left, Minhos shoulders slumped in relief. He was so tense he felt like sobbing. But of course his friends comforted him.

"hey, it's okay. Don't worry, those jerks won't come back over here. And if they do I'll give them my fist." Hyunjin spoke, defending Minho and trying to make him feel better while gently patting his shoulder.

"Yeah, buddy...i promise you'll be okay, right?" Han smiled softly, Minho just nodded slightly, glancing at Han but not keeping direct eye contact. Not with someone he had true feelings for. It would just make him feel more humiliated.

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Soon, time passed, fourth period came around just like that. Minho was stressed enough. Not wanting to be at school any longer. I mean, who would?! No one. But he had to. If he wanted to leave this place sooner.

And finally he went home. It would be the weekend. Three days off of school because they had canceled Monday. Finally he'd be alone. And calm. Happy. Right?

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...................The curtains in their small apartment stayed drawn now. Silence filled the space like a heavy fog — no music, no laughter, just the low hum of the refrigerator and the occasional buzz of Minho’s phone… another call, another anonymous hate message. It had been the three days off of school since he’d touched real food. A few bites here and there, maybe a sip of water. His lips pale. He had only showered one day. His favorite hoodie hung off his frame like it no longer belonged to him....

He spent his days curled up in bed. Curtains drawn. Lights off. He barely spoke. Barely moved. He’d lost weight. Clothes that once fit him perfectly now looked too big. His silence and pain were deafening — this wasn’t the Minho he knew himself as. Today, he would try to get up, move around. Find things to cheer him up...

Even if it was complicated.

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But he had to no matter what. School started tomorrow again and he needed to be ready for all the bullshit that might happen. He couldn't let it get in the way of him. It would just ruin him more...

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...Minho woke up to the sound of rain tapping impatiently on his window, the room still dark even though morning had arrived. He moved slowly, as if the weight on his chest made every action harder than it should be. His uniform felt cold, stiff, and somehow heavier than yesterday’s. He already knew what awaited him at school—he could feel the dread settling in before he even stepped outside. The walk to the bus stop felt endless, each puddle reflecting a tired version of himself he didn’t want to look at....

When he boarded the bus, the chatter faded the moment Woojin spotted him. Woojin’s smirk was the kind Minho had grown used to, the kind that promised trouble even before any words were spoken. Hangsa and Sungwa sat behind him, snickering, whispering just loud enough that Minho could hear his own name paired with insults. He kept his gaze fixed on the foggy window, trying to pretend the outside world was more interesting than their cruel laughter. His hands trembled slightly as he held his backpack closer, wishing he could shrink himself into the smallest version possible.

By the time he reached the school gates, Minho’s stomach felt twisted into tight knots. He hesitated, hoping the rain might buy him a few seconds of solitude, but the three boys were already there—waiting, as if the day couldn’t start until they’d found him. Sungwa flicked water from his umbrella onto Minho’s shoes, laughing when Minho stepped back. Hangsa blocked his path, and Woojin simply watched with that same cold smirk. Minho forced himself forward, each step echoing a quiet wish that tomorrow might somehow be different, even though today had proven once again that hope was the hardest thing to carry.

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