Episode3

That night, after dinner and chores, Yunhao lay sprawled on his mattress, his phone lighting up in the dark.

[Yunhao]: “Hey… I think I have a crush.”

[Best Friend – Lin Jie]: “OHHH FINALLY. Who?! 😏”

[Yunhao]: “Someone older. I don’t think he even knows I exist.”

[Lin Jie]: “Is it a girl?”

[Yunhao]: “No.”

There was a long pause.

[Lin Jie]: “…I see. Do you want to talk about it?”

Yunhao stared at the screen for a long time before typing his next words.

[Yunhao]: “I think I like boys.”

The moment the message sent, a tightness in his chest broke open. Not fear exactly, but vulnerability. Raw and cold.

Lin Jie replied after a few minutes, but it felt like hours.

[Lin Jie]: “Thanks for telling me. Really. That’s brave, Yunhao. I’m still your friend, you know?”

[Lin Jie]: “Also… is this about that basketball boy? 👀”

Yunhao laughed softly into the night, hugging his phone to his chest.

But when he came out to his family, it wasn’t laughter he received.

---

It happened around the kitchen table. He had spoken quietly, eyes on the chipped bowl in front of him, hands twisting the hem of his shirt.

“I… I like boys,” he had said. “I think I always have.”

The silence that followed was sharp. His mother froze mid-cut of vegetables. His father’s brows drew together. Even Yutong blinked, confused.

His father was the first to speak—voice low, restrained but shaking. “Are you joking?”

Yunhao shook his head.

Voices rose. His mother cried. His father stood up. Yutong left the room.

Yunhao didn’t fight back. He didn’t explain. He just stood there, heart hollowed out, letting their words crash over him like cold water. But eventually—hours later, after tears and slammed doors—his mother came to his room with a glass of warm soy milk.

“I don’t understand it,” she whispered, placing the glass by his bed. “But I’ll try. You’re still my son.”

Later, his father didn’t say much—but he didn’t shout again. Yutong sat beside him and quietly asked if he still liked cartoons. Yunhao smiled and nodded.

They didn’t fully understand. But they didn’t throw him away.

And for now, that was enough.

---

The next morning arrived with haze and new uniforms.

Yunhao stood stiffly in front of a new blackboard, feeling the eyes of the class like spotlights on his back. The teacher, a tall man with glasses and a tired expression, tapped a finger against his attendance book.

“This is our new transfer student,” he said. “Li Yunhao. Be respectful.”

Yunhao cleared his throat. “I’m… Li Yunhao. Nice to meet you.” His voice was soft, almost lost beneath the hum of the fans.

No one clapped. No one sneered. Just stares and scribbles.

“You can take that empty seat in the third row,” the teacher said, motioning with his pen.

Yunhao nodded and made his way to the desk, heart thudding. The seat was next to a boy leaning back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head, eyes closed. Asleep? Ignoring the class? Or just pretending?

He sat down slowly and glanced at him.

That boy had sharp features, long lashes, and a relaxed aura even in sleep. Yunhao hesitated, then tapped him lightly on the elbow. “Sorry… do you mind sharing your textbook?”

No response.

Yunhao tried again, a little louder this time. “I forgot to bring mine.”

Still nothing. No movement, no irritation, not even a twitch of acknowledgment.

He gave up, turning his eyes back to the board. The chalk squeaked, but he wasn’t paying attention anymore. His thoughts drifted back to the basketball court… to that boy with the smile.

He didn’t notice the desk mate smirk slightly in his sleep.

---

When the bell rang for break, the teacher handed Yunhao a small form.

“Go to the admin office and register your name in the student record. Take the hallway to the left.”

Yunhao took the paper and stepped out of the classroom. The hallway was quiet, lined with open windows. For a moment, he felt a strange sense of déjà vu.

Why did that sleeping boy look oddly familiar…?

He shook the thought away and continued walking, unaware that behind him, the sleeping desk mate had opened his eyes—and was watching him leave.

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