Rhythm of Love

Chapter Eleven: Release

"'Gay rights are human rights. There is no separation.'" 

A loud laugh of derision can be heard ringing all throughout the busy streets of Cheongdam-dong where large crowds begin filtering from various areas, which would have otherwise drowned out the laugh were it not for the shrillness of the voice that gave it out.

A few people turn their heads to regard the tall bespectacled man who looks to be in a fit of blissful hilarity as he walks past them, a natural spring in his steps, shaking his head and snorting.

"Tch!"

Not in the real world, Yoon Se-joon thinks, rolling his eyes as the words he had just read from a dirty dilapidated wall somewhere along the street still echo in his head.

His real world is filled with separation, that's for sure.

He should know. He feels the painful cut of the invisible, yet very real, dividing line every day of his life.

It's there whenever he goes to public bathrooms, and the other hypothetically superior members of the male species would automatically gravitate away from him as if they'd fall ill just by merely standing there beside him, with some of them blabbering a few choice insults.

It's there every time he looks at his married friends, or just any normal couple for that matter, and can't fight the resentment inside him that continuously beseeches into the unknown void, why can't I have that?

It's there when someone comments on his video blogs, calling him derogatory names like 'fairy,' 'nancy,' 'fag,' or 'fruit,' instead of being the humans they supposedly are by just choosing not to watch his stuff in the first place.

As if making the conscious decision of barely showing his face in the frame wasn't enough.

And if gay rights were the same as human rights, why was there a need to coin a separate term for them?

The irony is so glaringly incongruous, it makes him sick just thinking about it.

Naturally, Se-joon has developed a thick skin throughout the years of being exposed to the harsh reality that someone like him will always have to make an extra effort to belong in this world.

Although he's sure that he's a hundred percent human (and a thousand percent fabulous), he's been told all his life that he's... different.

That he just isn't cut from the same cloth like everyone else.

He's tried his best so far not to give it too much thought. Sometimes, however, his mind gets the best of him and he finds himself wondering with unexplainable yearning what it would be like if he were fashioned from the same tapestry as the rest of the world.

How nice it must feel to not have to fight for a place in this big mantle of life.

And how peaceful it must be when the pattern of your fabric blends perfectly with everyone else's.

But then you won't stand out, his quick wit tells him, and he smiles with an assurance to himself only a person who has gone through the harshest of diversities can really muster.

As usual, he pushes his thoughts to the back of his head, not wanting to delve into the whys of his existence on this beautiful Sunday morning.

He has the rest of his life to do that.

Crossing the sidewalk, he walks up the stairs to his destination, flinging his backpack on one shoulder and whistling a random tune under his breath.

"Hellooooo!" Se-joon warmly greets the receptionist enthusiastically after breezing through the entrance. He reads the name tag hanging by a long white lanyard on the latter's neck.