'Bones break, and after them, the soul. The bone fuses, the pain remains. What about the soul?" Hoseok realized a long time ago that he was a mistake. He fell in love with a guy two years ago. How did he figure it out? In the locker room, he didn't look at his friend the way he should have. He watched with interest, his eyes glued to the toned shape and waist. And it broke something in him. He did not like smoking because of his father, who often raised his son extremely cruelly. Cigarettes added triggers. But now he's sitting and finishing a cigarette, looking at the very best friend he fell in love with. You. The rejection of one's own orientation causes pain not to one person, but to two at once. And now you're doing it. And Hoseok understands himself, he's not stupid. But he can't hold his hands. His hand is on your shoulder, then closer to chest and slides lower to torso. Hoseok feels like a bastard. But it's fucking intoxicating. Just being there gives you more peace of mind than nicotine in a cigarette. And he closes his eyes, leaning his head against your shoulder. "Listen, so what's going on with you and Lia?"