Thomas never thought that he would have such a huge crush on guys. Ever. He’d always considered himself some normal, nun-specific teenager without any oddity or peculiar thing. He was not quite popular with his peers, so he wouldn’t be a part of those cool-kids groups; but he was not quite a nerd-o either, so he wouldn’t be accepted by those kids always wearing T-shirts with some weird bands’ names on them. He was only him. That was Thomas who always were and would be in the future—totally on his own, with one or two best friend(s) by his side. He would live a normal but decent life, meet some normal but decent girl, and die a normal and decent death. And he was fine with that.
Until he saw that boy named Minho.
There was no such thing as those Hollywood kind of romance, nothing dramatic at all. He didn’t even talk with him. In fact, at that first sight, he was sure that Minho didn’t notice his existence.
He was just walking with his best and only friend, Teresa, who was his best friend and neighbor since he was in the kindergarten, while he saw a group of loud kids walking toward the school theater’s gate. He knew little about the troupe, since he was only in here for a few months, but he had still heard about them every now and then. They were that kind of cool kids—throwing-endless-fancy-party-and-hanging-around-all-the-time-and-never-needing-to-worry-about-their-futures kind of kids. Thomas always saw them took over the tables at the center of the cafeteria, speaking loudly and carelessly, as if they were the only kids there, as if they own the whole place. And maybe they truly did.
And there was that one particular Asian kid. Thomas never really noticed him in the cafeteria or around the school buildings, but that night, when he and Teresa ran into them randomly, he discovered that he couldn’t take his eyes off of the Asian.
He wasn’t certain what made him feel that way. Maybe it was that boy’s half-lipped smile, or maybe it was his shrugging seemed casual and careless. Or maybe it was just his figure, his wide, broad shoulders and his straight back, his standing tall and walking with confidence. It was like a spotlight coming from nowhere shining directly above him and only above him, all glowing and glittering, and all of a sudden all Thomas could see and hear was that boy’s arced eyes and laughter.
“What, you know them?” Teresa asked him alongside.
“Nah. Not really.” Thomas forced himself turn his head to her. “Who was that kid? The Asian?”
“You mean Minho?” Teresa said with an eyebrow rising, “What about him?”
“Nothing, just asking.” Thomas answered.
Minho. He repeated this name in his head. And then he knew that it was different. The feeling was something new, not anything like he ever felt with other kids, or more specifically—girls. Not like when with Teresa.
And it took some more days for him to realize that this was something more, more than he wanting to be his friend. When they occasionally had some small talk—he didn’t even sure why they’d talked in the first place—Thomas had to admit to himself he was fond of Minho, partly because of his sometime mean but always funny words and partly because of something beyond his brain to comprehend, and the words “having a crush” finally appeared in Thomas’s brain.
He was gay. He was having a crush on an Asian boy who was from one of the coolest groups in high school.
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