Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Prologue

Sometimes, Beomgyu tells himself he’s not really sure how it all started. Sometimes, for a few minutes, he’s convinced that it was just a whirlwind of things; if anyone asked, he could say, “It just sort of, fell together.”

Even in those few minutes of convincing, there’s still that nagging voice in the back of his head. It’s more quiet than it normally is, but still there, still gnawing at his brain. The one that tells him he knows exactly how it happened—where it started, how it grew. How he got himself into it. That voice tells him over and over.

You’re a fool, Choi Beomgyu.

Sometimes, he fights with it. He can be good at convincing himself that voice is wrong. I’m no fool, I’m extremely level-headed. I’m aware of my emotions and I know what they mean. I can control them. They don’t matter, I’ll get over it. Something, anything, that will get him to cope with it a little better. Any way to stay unseen, any way to be unknowable.

And maybe sometimes he doesn’t give himself enough credit. Things have been like this for years—sure, the details have changed, gone back and forth a few times. But overall, he has been going through life normally (or at least, somewhat normally) with things being like this.

For a long time now, he has gotten up every day as Choi Beomgyu of Tomorrow x Together. Musician, idol, comedian on good days. One of five, the dead middle of their little family, Yeonjun and Soobin above him, Taehyun and Kai below. He’s been through everything and more with them. He would burn the whole world to see them smile. His heart and soul, split into four other bodies who he will keep with him forever.

For a long time now, he has dealt with this thing while being Choi Beomgyu of Tomorrow x Together. Which, arguably, has made dealing with it a million times harder than it would’ve been if he was always just Choi Beomgyu, plain and simple. Yet even on the days that dealing with it feels like everything in his world is crashing down around him, he still doesn’t regret it, and he still can’t bring himself to let it go. It’s part of him.

For a long time now, he has gotten up every day as Choi Beomgyu of Tomorrow x Together. Or just, Beomgyu. And for a long time now, he has gotten up every day, a fool for Choi Yeonjun.

Then – Summer 2018

Beomgyu met Choi Yeonjun at the same time his life flipped upside down. Home changed from the comfort of what he’d known his whole life in Daegu, to countless hours spent in dance practices, to sleeping in a room with four other boys he hadn’t known for long but hoped he would know forever. The moment Beomgyu met Choi Yeonjun, something changed.

Beomgyu considered himself a pretty smart person. Logical, understanding, knowledgeable, emotionally intelligent. Yet when it came to Yeonjun, Beomgyu had no chance from the start. He felt silly, sometimes, how foolish he was when it came to Yeonjun. Both of them were trainees; both working towards the same goal of becoming an idol. They should be—somewhat—on the same level.

Yet Yeonjun was always somewhat of a God to Beomgyu. A deity, someone who seemed totally untouchable from the first day Beomgyu set eyes on him. As he got to know him—past the seemingly pompous but well-deserved attitude of a Virgo teenager consistently ranked as number 1 trainee—he realized Yeonjun was most definitely not a god. He was simply a boy who laughed at fart jokes and played video games and was probably more sensitive than anyone Beomgyu knew. Nothing like the act he put on while performing. 

Yeonjun was talented and he knew it, but he was humble and kind under all that. He was probably the shyest extrovert Beomgyu had ever met. And he had talent beyond belief, yet he nearly killed himself every day with the amount of work he put in. He was passionate and determined, the constant first place was beyond deserved. 

Beomgyu thought he was the coolest person to ever walk this earth.

Somehow, he found himself in Yeonjun’s orbit; in his innermost circle. The five of them set to debut together, Beomgyu couldn’t help but think their meeting was written in the stars. He wasn’t sure if soulmates were real, but he was certain some part of the universe had made sure they all met. There was something special between the five of them that he wasn’t sure anyone could ever explain. But the five of them knew.

They had been together for, at the time, felt like forever—looking back it was no time at all—when Yeonjun turned to them on a walk home. He looked somehow a mix between scared for his life and pissed off, his mouth was set in a straight line, more serious than Beomgyu had maybe ever seen him. His eyes were the giveaway; lost, bigger than normal and shifting back and forth as he spoke, not being able to make eye contact with any of them.

“I need to talk to you guys about something,” he said suddenly, as he stepped out in front of the other four, causing Beomgyu to stop so quickly Taehyun ran straight into his back.

“The fuck Gyu,” the younger boy mumbled, stepping to Beomgyu’s side and rubbing his nose that had smacked into the back of his head.

“Right now?” Soobin asked, clearly sensing something was up and ever the leader, the first to step in. Yeonjun gave a curt nod and turned on his heel, walking over to a patch of grass and sitting cross-legged by himself. Beomgyu, who would’ve followed Yeonjun to the end of the earth, was right behind him.

Their steps were silent in the dewy grass, so Beomgyu easily heard Taehyun whisper behind him, “He’s mad. Are we in trouble or something?” 

Soobin shushed him and Kai let out a nervous laugh. Beomgyu was surprised that the others couldn’t tell Yeonjun was not mad, but scared about something—whatever it was he was going to tell them. But then again, the rest of them probably did not have the same catalog of Yeonjun information in their brains that he had.

The five of them sat in the grass, in a little circle. It was a warm night—early summer, not too hot. The real humidity hadn’t kicked in yet. They had a rare evening where they got out of practice early (early being 9pm) and decided to take a walk before heading back to the dorm. The Han River flowed next to them while they strolled. 

The hum of the water flowing suddenly seemed deafening with all five of them uncharacteristically silent.

Beomgyu looked expectantly at the top of Yeonjun’s bowed head. He was playing with the grass near his feet, picking strands out of the ground and ripping them apart almost aggressively, clearly nervous. He didn’t look like he was ready to say anything, despite so suddenly telling them he needed to talk.

Feeling eyes on him, Beomgyu glanced up to see three other sets looking at him expectantly. Soobin nodded his head towards Yeonjun, telling him with his eyes that he should be the one to say something first. Yeonjun and Beomgyu were close, probably one of the closest friendships in the group. Still, Beomgyu wasn’t completely sure what to say. 

With the younger members, he knew how to comfort them when something was up. The age difference wasn’t huge, but to him, they were babies. He didn’t have younger siblings and he always had so much love inside him, he couldn’t help but do what he could to take care of them. For them though, he found a lot of the time just hugging them through their tears and gentle reassurance was enough.

Yeonjun was more complicated. Not in a bad way—Beomgyu was just still trying to figure out the best way to handle him. Being the oldest, Yeonjun didn’t open up often like the others did. He cried in front of them countless times, sure, but was always carefully avoidant of sharing his true feelings. I’m just tired. I miss my family. I’m overwhelmed. Meticulously placed excuses, only partial truths. 

He carried so much weight being the oldest, and the pressure he put on himself was tremendous. Beomgyu, for a while, had been trying to convince him that it was okay to lean some of that weight on him, when he needed to. He didn’t care if he was younger—just because Yeonjun was the oldest didn’t mean no one should take care of him. He probably needed it more than most of them, with the load he carried for them. Beomgyu did his best to be gentle with him, so he felt safe; so he could lean on him, the same Yeonjun did for him.

“Are you okay, hyung?” Beomgyu finally managed to spit out, using the softest voice he could. It still sounded too loud in the silence. Yeonjun’s head shot up at his words, immediately meeting his eyes. 

And that was the thing about Beomgyu’s stored Yeonjun information. His eyes were very telling. Beomgyu could catch when something was off. The issue was, he was still learning how to fully decipher what exactly was the problem. Yeonjun’s walls were high, he didn’t make it easy.

The look Yeonjun gave him said everything and nothing at the same time. It made Beomgyu’s heart clench, and he wasn't even really sure why. He looked terrified, hurt, broken—tears welling up on his lash line.

“I’m sorry,” Beomgyu hastily apologized, feeling like he must’ve done something seriously wrong to make Yeonjun cry almost immediately. He looked down at his hands, which he couldn’t help wring together nervously. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t wan-“

“It’s okay, Gyu-ah,” Yeonjun interrupted him, sniffling. He reached over and put a hand atop his fiddling ones. Beomgyu could see his hand shaking as he reached out. Trying to offer some sort of comfort, Beomgyu slowly flipped one of his hands over and grabbed onto Yeonjun’s, squeezing it for a second. Yeonjun squeezed back before gently letting go, folding his hands back in his own lap and taking a deep breath. “I have to tell you guys something. We are debuting as the five of us and I need you guys to know this first—beforehand—in case there are any issues.”

He finally glanced up at the rest of the members, looking them all in the eyes one by one. That hard edge was back in his eyes, as if he was daring one of them to do something, to say the wrong thing. Beomgyu wasn’t sure what that would even be.

“Hyung, you can tell us anything,” Soobin said quietly, giving a reassuring smile to Yeonjun when they made eye contact. “We are here for you.”

Yeonjun let out a huge, shaky breath, nodding. Either to himself or to Soobin, maybe both.

“Okay, well I’m just going to say it. If anyone has any issues, I understand. Well, I don’t really understand and that would actually kind of suck,” Yeonjun rambled, angrily picking at the grass again. “But I think you guys should know this. I want you guys to know this.”

Beomgyu, sensing his panic, sat up from where he was leaning back in the grass and bent his knee over sideways, pulling his ankle into himself so the tip of his knee could rest on Yeonjun’s thigh. 

A point of contact, to hopefully ease Yeonjun’s mind. To let him know he was there for him. 

Yeonjun took another huge breath.

“I’m bisexual.” 

Sirens blared in the distance, the river rushed on, and Yeonjun threw his heart into the middle of the five of them. Like he was performing some sort of sacrifice and he was expecting them all to take turns stabbing it.

Beomgyu's eyes shot to Yeonjun’s face, his mouth set in a hard line and his eyebrows narrowed. His eyes were darker than Beomgyu had seen, and already fixed on Beomgyu. Yeonjun glanced around his face quickly before moving on to the others, looking at all of them one by one.

“I like girls, but I like guys too… Or anyone really. So if you have a problem with that, tell me now because I have been working nearly my whole conscious life to get to where we are now and I don’t want to waste all that work with people who don’t accept me.”

Beomgyu thought if the noise of the city was quieter, you could have probably heard his heart shatter. For a second, all he could do was stare at Yeonjun, his face hard and determined but eyes watery. Showing his soul to the four boys in front of him, the four boys he was so determined to take care of all the time—to carry their weight. He looked each of them in the eyes, refusing to shy away from his confession.

It made Beomgyu’s heart ache. All he could think about was how brave Yeonjun was, and how bad he felt for ever making him doubt that he would ever think any less of him after this.

He felt dizzy. He wasn’t sure if it was the weight of the confession, or the ache he felt for the oldest. His stomach had dropped at Yeonjun’s words, he still felt a little breathless.

Beomgyu opened and closed his mouth a few times, wracking his brain on what to say—the right thing to say to reassure Yeonjun. Before he got the chance to decide, he heard a noise that made his stomach drop all over again. 

Soobin let out a snort next to him. Immediately, Beomgyu’s entire head whipped towards him, seeing red. Never would he have thought that Soobin —gentle, loving Soobin —would be homophobic.

“Why are you fucking laughing,” Beomgyu spat before he could stop himself, physically squeezing his fists to prevent the urge to throttle Soobin then and there.

“Woah, down boy,” Soobin put his hands up in front of him, defensively.

“Beomgyu, it’s okay,” Yeonjun’s voice came from behind him. He hadn’t realized he had sat up on his knees and shifted himself protectively in front of the older.

“It’s not okay if Soobin is going to be a fucking homophobe,” Beomgyu snarled, cutting Yeonjun off before he could say anymore.

“Homophobe?” Soobin said, incredulously. “You think I’m homophobic?” 

“You laughed at him!”

“Well if you let me talk before you went all guard dog you would’ve known I wasn’t laughing at Yeonjun,” Soobin explained, his hands still in front of him, palms now facing downward, like he was trying to calm Beomgyu down. “Laughing was the wrong reaction, sorry Hyung, it just came out.” He tried to look at Yeonjun over Beomgyu’s shoulder, but the younger refused to move until Soobin said more.

“I was just laughing because it is kind of ridiculous how they ended up making a group with the leader and the oldest both gay,” Soobin smiled crookedly, breaking eye contact and looking down at his hands, nervousness suddenly taking over his demeanor at the confession. “Some role models we are.”

Beomgyu blinked hard, wondering if he heard right. He slowly sat back down onto his butt, looking between Yeonjun and Soobin.

The water rushed on, the noises of the city vibrating in the background. The confessions hung over the five of them in silence.

Beomgyu knew he should be the one to say something, being the one to cause a near uproar moments before. His head was still spinning over Yeonjun’s confession, and now he had Soobin’s rushing through his mind as well. 

Soobin however, was less surprising than Yeonjun. Beomgyu had noticed at some point awhile ago that he had never heard Soobin talk about girls in the ways most of the other trainees did; he always got quiet when those types of conversations came up. It was something that crossed Beomgyu’s mind, now and again, but Soobin never said anything explicit, or even subtly hinted towards anything, so he kept his mouth shut.

“Sorry for bandwagoning on your coming out, hyung,” Soobin spoke quietly. “I shouldn’t have taken that moment from you. I’ve thought for so long about how to tell you guys that when you said it I couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous this all is.”

Next to Beomgyu, Yeonjun let out a small chuckle.

It was like music to his ears. 

Yeonjun was laughing. Yeonjun was okay.

“It’s okay Bin-ah,” Yeonjun croaked wetly, clearly still holding back tears, but still soft and genuine. Beomgyu’s head whipped back towards him at the sound of a sniffle. He didn’t want Yeonjun to cry, he never wanted Yeonjun to be scared or sad a day in his life.

And when their eyes met, Beomgyu felt like he had been hit by a truck. There was a vulnerability there that he had never seen from Yeonjun. He looked like he was at the edge of a cliff, waiting to see if he would fall. Like he was standing in the middle of a highway, waiting for a crash.

“Yeonjunnie hyung,” Beomgyu choked out, so quiet it was barely audible. His throat was suddenly tight and his eyes were burning. He couldn’t bring himself to look away from Yeonjun’s scared eyes. 

A single tear slid down Yeonjun’s cheek. Instantly Beomgyu reached up, thumbing away the tear and holding the side of Yeonjun’s face in his hand. Gentle, like he was a precious piece of glass—able to shatter in an instant.

“You could tell me you murdered someone and I would help you hide the body. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

Beomgyu was crying now too, silent tears falling down his cheeks. He wasn’t sure when he even started, but looking at Yeonjun’s face completely relax in relief, he wasn’t sure he was ever going to stop crying. Yeonjun’s bottom lip jutted out, an expression that probably would be pathetic on most people, but on Yeonjun— beautiful . 

At least to Beomgyu. 

Achingly so.

Yeonjun let out his first audible sob and launched himself at Beomgyu, almost knocking him straight onto his back into the grass. He put his arms around his neck, clinging to him as he cried.

“Hyung, it’s alright,” Beomgyu steadied him, grabbing the back of Yeonjun’s head to tug him closer into his shoulder and rubbing his back with the other hand. “You don’t need to cry, we all love you so much.”

Yeonjun let out another sob at his words, definitely soaking his t-shirt as he shook in his arms. Tears couldn’t stop flowing down Beomgyu's cheeks. He wasn’t really even sure why, whether it was sadness for Yeonjun, happiness for Yeonjun, the overwhelming energy in the air, or something else entirely. 

Maybe all of the above.

“You are so precious to us Hyung, we could never ever hate you. I love you so much and I could never hate you for who you love. That doesn’t matter to me, not ever. I just want you to be happy. We all do.”

The end was added hurriedly, when Beomgyu realized he changed from we to I —he’s not sure when that happened. He just felt like he needed Yeonjun to know that he, personally, Choi Beomgyu, could never ever see him in a bad light, could never ever think poorly of him. The sky would start falling before Beomgyu could ever hate Yeonjun.

“We do,” Taehyun’s voice spoke up. Beomgyu nearly started, practically forgetting the others were there. He looked up at the youngest members over Yeonjun’s shoulder. Both of them were looking at the duo wrapped in each other’s arms, tears shining in their eyes as well. “We would never ever have anything against you Hyung, especially not with something like that. Soobin hyung, you too. Right Hyuka?”

Kai nodded vigorously next to Taehyun and then seemed to process that Yeonjun couldn’t see him. “I love you both always, Hyungs,” Kai spoke finally, tears shining as he looked back and forth between his two intertwined Hyungs and Soobin—all soft, big eyes and kind smile.

At that, Yeonjun—who was now practically in Beomgyu lap—let out a wail. And Soobin—being Soobin—let out a responding laugh.

“Stop laughing at me,” Yeonjun sobbed, pulling his head out of Beomgyu’s chest. In an instant, Beomgyu was ready to attempt to fight Soobin for the second time that night. 

But as quick as he was to anger, he was just as quick to relax, looking to see Yeonjun’s face with a grin spread across it, despite the tears still streaming out of his eyes. Happy tears.

“You’re such a goddamn crybaby,” Soobin, who also had tears running down his face, said fondly.

“You guys are all crybabies,” Taehyun sighed, visibly wiping tears off his face.

The five of them sat for a second, all glancing around at each other. At the same time, they all burst into laughter, tears still streaming and limbs tangled—falling into each other with laughs and cries. 

Beomgyu realized in that moment he had never felt more safe in his life; he had never loved anyone in the world bigger than the other four boys with him. He adored his family, but this was something different. They felt like family, but not in the same way—they were as close as family because they chose to be. Because they wanted to.

He laid back on the ground, pulling Yeonjun down with him. The older tucked himself into Beomgyu’s side, one leg draped over him and head nuzzled into his neck. Clingy . 

He could feel Yeonjun’s breath brush over the side of his neck and his Adam’s apple. 

He shivered in the warm night air.

The five of them stared up at the sky together, talking about everything and nothing—it was almost like nothing had happened. Yet at the same time, everything felt different.

Something had shifted, between the five of them. Looking back, Beomgyu thinks maybe that was the day his soul split; he gave up a piece of himself to each of them and trusted them to keep it safe. Five souls split into five bodies, intertwined and stuck like glue.

As they laid there, eyes on the dim, empty sky, he wished they could see the stars. He wished they were somewhere in the countryside, away from the bright city lights and ever-present sound. He wanted to point out constellations, to look up at the universe with Yeonjun clung to his side, Soobin and Taehyun talking non-stop next to him, and Kai’s laugh echoing into the night. 

But this was enough. This was still everything and more to him.

—

The walk home was quieter than normal, small comments from each of them here and there, but mainly silence. Not a bad silence, a comfortable one—the kind of silence that makes you feel safe. Calming and grounding.

That is, until Soobin suddenly shoved Beomgyu, making him stumble into Yeonjun, who was still stuck to his side like glue. 

Less physical clinging and more hovering beside—but still stuck.

“You fucking brat,” Soobin exclaimed, startling the rest of them. Beomgyu’s eyebrows narrowed, immediately sensing the mischievous look in Soobin’s eyes and was thankful he wasn’t going to have to debate fighting Soobin for a third time that night. “You gave a big heartfelt speech to Yeonjun for coming out and I didn’t get shit!” He shoved Beomgyu again, for good measure.

“Yeonjun was crying,” Beomgyu shrugged, like it was obvious. “Of course I had to comfort him.”

“I teared up too!”

“You were literally laughing.”

Soobin let out a snort, unable to hold back. Beomgyu just raised his eyebrows as a means of saying I told you so. The leader rolled his eyes—hard—but clearly knew he lost. Beomgyu let the silence hang for a bit, enough to tease Soobin, before giving him a taste of his own medicine.  He leapt up and jumped on him sideways, nearly tackling him in a hug.

“We all love you no matter what as well Hyung,” Beomgyu said in a high pitched, cutesy voice he knew would annoy Soobin. He even pouted his lips for good measure, puckering them towards the leader’s cheek and making kissy noises.

“Ew, get off you freak,” Soobin placed his giant hand straight on Beomgyu’s face, pushing him backwards until he was forced to let him go. Beomgyu couldn’t help but cackle along with the others, who had stopped walking to witness the two of them causing a scene under the streetlights.

Beomgyu kept making kissy faces at Soobin and the leader pretended to be annoyed, but when he caught Soobin’s eyes, they glittered back at him—the appreciation and love evident. Beomgyu immediately looked to the ground—love for their leader, his best friend, overwhelming him.

“You’re so fucking soft for him,” Soobin mumbled after a minute, quiet enough that only Beomgyu hear. The other three had moved on and were busy discussing a dance move Kai had fumbled over earlier in the day.

Beomgyu glanced over, meeting Soobin’s eye. The way the leader looked at him—like he was completely see through—made Beomgyu the slightest bit uncomfortable. He looked like he knew something Beomgyu didn’t.

“Someone has to be,” Beomgyu answered, feeling his ears heat up in embarrassment over something he wasn’t quite sure he could even comprehend. “He’s the oldest, he carries so much for all of us, someone needs to make sure the weight doesn’t get too heavy.”

Despite his body giving him signs he was embarrassed, saying it was simple to Beomgyu; he didn’t really have to think about it. 

Of course he was soft for Yeonjun. Of course he would do anything to make sure he was safe and happy. It had become like another nature to him.

Yeonjun wasn’t one to open up, Yeonjun took hit after hit with a smile plastered on his face. He made sure his four younger members were okay before his own well-being even crossed his mind.

Beomgyu leaned on Yeonjun a lot—more than he would like to. He felt guilty about it sometimes, when the night was quiet and sleep wouldn’t come, that guilt sat like a rock in his stomach. He felt like he took so much from Yeonjun, leaned on him so hard; he wasn’t sure if it was fair. So in return, he did his best to make himself available for Yeonjun to lean on as well. If he could lighten the load of this life for Yeonjun, at least he didn’t feel as guilty for making him his lifeline.

He wasn’t sure if he ever did enough for Yeonjun to even notice it. It was little things; making sure Yeonjun’s water bottle got refilled in the midst of a grueling practice, when Yeonjun was so exhausted he couldn’t pull himself up from the floor. Small pats on the back and hand squeezing as he passed Yeonjun in the hallway, taking his place in the recording booth after the oldest finished. Making sure to be the first to check on him when the bags under his eyes got too dark, and his words started being nothing but self-deprecating.

He wasn’t sure if it was ever enough. Beomgyu loved so much, oftentimes he didn’t really know what to do with it. He didn’t like being loud and showy about his love—it made him feel like he was putting on some sort of act for others. That was never the case.

Beomgyu didn’t love big because he felt like he should, he loved big because it was all he knew how to do. Not loud, not showy, but all-encompassing, seeping into every nook and cranny of his being.

For a lot of people in his life, that was more than enough. He loved so many people so thoroughly, and he knew they knew it. But with Yeonjun, Beomgyu always wished he could do more. He wasn’t sure why, what part of Yeonjun’s warm and comforting soul made Beomgyu feel like he had to be more gentle with him than anyone; what part made Beomgyu want to pour more love into him than he had anyone before. He didn’t know if there was an explanation at all—or maybe he just didn’t know what the explanation was. 

That's just how things were. And Beomgyu was okay with that.

They were nearly home when Beomgyu’s world almost came crashing down to his feet. He thought the emotional turmoil was done for the night, but that didn’t seem to be the case. So much had happened in the past few hours, but for some reason, this was the thing that could’ve brought him to his knees.

“Okay, so… just to clarify…” Kai spoke up quietly. His tone was nervous. “You guys aren’t like... dating... are you?”

Beomgyu instantly felt nauseous. He felt Yeonjun stiffen next to him, where their arms were continuously brushing together as they walked.

His thoughts started racing.

Soobin and Yeonjun? There’s no way. They never showed any signs of liking each other. At least, nothing past the joke flirting that sometimes happened between them all. But it was all jokes, right? Beomgyu pretended to try and kiss Soobin earlier, and that was a joke—everyone knew that. Yeonjun sometimes would raise his eyebrows and smirk at Beomgyu after making a innuendo, and sure, Beomgyu couldn’t help it when his ears got hot, but that was just because he wasn’t used to talking about that stuff with other people. They all were just messing around, right?

The silence was deafening. It was the first time that night Beomgyu felt like maybe things weren’t going to be okay. 

He wasn’t sure why, really—there wasn’t anything inherently bad about Soobin and Yeonjun dating. He wasn’t actually sure if that was even allowed, but he figured if they were serious enough, they might be able to make it work. Of course, it would be disastrous to the group if they broke up and things got messy. Maybe they just thought they could be professional enough to deal with it.

Beomgyu’s panicked thoughts were interrupted by Soobin letting out a loud retching noise. 

His head whipped towards their leader, expecting to find a horrible scene, yet there was Soobin, a goofy grin on his face. The knots in Beomgyu stomach slowly started to unravel themselves as he looked to Yeonjun, whose shoulders relaxed, letting out a cackle in answer to Soobin’s obnoxious fake vomiting noises.

“No, Kai-yah,” Yeonjun said through laughter. “We are not dating and no offense Soobin, but I don’t think we ever will.”

“What, am I not pretty enough for Choi Yeonjun standards?” Soobin questioned, finally ceasing the dramatic fake vomiting.

Beomgyu felt dizzy with relief.

“You fucking wish,” Yeonjun scoffed, turning on his heel and taking off towards the dorm, his fingers catching Beomgyu’s at the last second and tugging him along. 

All five of them started running through the nearly empty, late-night streets of Seoul. Laughter echoed off the buildings and Beomgyu felt more alive than he had ever felt, his hand in Yeonjun’s and his laughter ringing in his ears.

Maybe he was too soft for Yeonjun. That was probably true. But seeing him, eyes bright, cheeks perked up with joy, carelessly running through the streets, it was beyond worth it. 

If Beomgyu could always see him this happy, he would be soft for him forever.

Now – Winter 2023

Beomgyu nearly yells when Yeonjun suddenly bounds into his room, phone in his hand and a huge grin on his face.

“Guess what?” The older asks, eyes shining.

“You’re finally taking a class on understanding the importance of knocking before entering someone else’s room?” Beomgyu raises his eyebrows, his door hanging open behind Yeonjun.

He reaches over and knocks on the door frame carelessly, eyebrows raised. Yeonjun rarely knocks when it comes to entering his room anyways. Beomgyu sighs and gestures for Yeonjun to go on with an exaggerated eye roll that the other meets with a smile.

“We’re doing a unit stage at KBS festival this year, a cover,” Yeonjun grins. Beomgyu sits up straighter immediately, a matching smile coming across his face.

“Really? Just me and you?” Beomgyu asks as he sets down the guitar in his lap. 

Yeonjun dramatically turns side to side, looking around the room.“Do you see anyone else here?” 

Beomgyu ignores him and continues patting around the blankets of his bed, looking for his phone to see whatever message it is they must’ve received about the performance. “Gotta Go, Chungha,” Yeonjun continues, answering Beomgyu’s question he never said out loud. Beomgyu’s eyebrows shoot up and they meet eyes. There’s a slight smirk on Yeonjun’s face. “They sent over the lyric sheet. We aren’t changing any lyrics.”

“We never do for covers,” Beomgyu answers, finally finding his phone and opening up the message, clicking the lyric sheet. He knew the song, maybe not every lyric, but was familiar enough. His eyes find the number of times boy is written there. He lets out a snort. “They think we’re gay or something?” he asks, with fake shock. Yeonjun cackles, plopping down on the bed next to him.

“How could they ever think that?” Yeonjun replies with matching sarcasm, leaning towards Beomgyu slowly as he speaks. “Hm, maybe it’s the fact that you… I don’t know.. love to put your tongue down men’s throats? Or that you like to have a di-”

“Okay, okay!” Beomgyu cuts him off, laughing and shoving him away. “Bold words coming from you, Captain Bisexual.”

Yeonjun sits up straighter, a hand raising in salute. “A name I wear proudly.” 

“You’re a fucking loser.”

“You like it.”

“Do you think Soobin could do the stage with you instead?”

—

Beomgyu couldn’t deny he was giddy when he found out about the cover stage. Being able to perform with just Yeonjun, with a song and choreography like this—it seemed too good to be true.

And unfortunately, Beomgyu was getting to the point of thinking it really was—too good to be true.

They had learned the choreography quickly enough; it was fairly easy and the two of them were good at memorizing dances. However, the issue came with the energy, the performance of it all. The vibe, the aura, whatever.

Beomgyu thought, going into it, it wouldn’t be hard for him. After their Invitation cover, he knew he was good at performing a song with that sort of energy; he knew how to bring that feminine, seductive aura to the stage. This time around though, he couldn’t bring himself to lock it down as easily, the same way he had that summer. 

It felt overwhelming when he looked in the mirror, trying to get in the right mindset, and all he could focus on was Yeonjun standing next to him, head resting back on Beomgyu’s shoulder.

Part of him knew exactly what the reason was—why he was struggling this time around. The other part told that part to fuck off and mind it’s business.

“It’s still missing something. It needs to be sexier,” their choreographer sighs as they finish a run through.

“You should’ve picked someone other than Hyung then,” Beomgyu replies, not missing a beat. He starts cowering away before he even finishes the sentence, waiting for the hit—he still yelps when he gets it, Yeonjun winding up and smacking him on the arm. Despite Beomgyu’s dramatics, no one bats an eye; they’re all used to the two of them.

“We need more chemistry between the two of you,” the choreographer continues, as if they were not still actively swatting at each other. “If I didn’t think I’d get fired I’d tell you to go make out or something to get in the mood.”

Beomgyu—who had freed himself from Yeonjun’s smacks and had been chugging from his water bottle—starts to choke.

Yeonjun wacks his back, snickering as Beomgyu tries to prevent water from coming out his nose.

He coughs, trying to get himself together. “Sorry, went down the wrong hole.” 

“Ha. Hole.”

Beomgyu raises a fist at Yeonjun, threatening a punch. The older dodges past him and runs across the room, giggling evilly.

“Let’s just run it again,” their exasperated choreographer cuts in through Yeonjun’s laughs. “Don’t be afraid to make eye contact and look at each other, we want to build that tension, that longing.”

And the thing was, Beomgyu wasn’t really worried about their ability to build tension. He had purposefully not been looking at Yeonjun, nor catching his eyes since the day they had learned the choreography. While trying to remember new moves, while trying to start pulling off that seductive aura for the performance, Yeonjun’s sharp eyes wouldn’t stop meeting his in the mirror and giving him looks that brought up feelings that should not be present in a work setting. Tension had been what Beomgyu was avoiding this whole time.

They run through the performance again, and Beomgyu feels himself freezing up here and there. He can feel Yeonjun’s gaze when he dances alone; every time he looks in his direction, those sharp eyes—such like a fox—are already on Beomgyu’s face, waiting to make contact.

It’s distracting, to say the least.

What isn’t hard, is the longing part. Yeonjun deserves every bit of his It Boy nickname, and Beomgyu knows that well. He catches himself all the time; watching Yeonjun dance through the mirror, or while he’s sitting on the ground, supposed to be stretching but instead watching as Yeonjun practices.

Yeonjun was truly made for the stage. He knows how to use the most subtle expressions to command attention, and he knows where to use his energy without it being too much. When he steps on stage, he’s instantly Choi Yeonjun of Tomorrow x Together, 4th Generation It Boy . Everything he does seems effortless. He could make even the most difficult performances look like it was the easiest thing he’d done that day. 

Beomgyu knows, of course, it isn’t that simple. He’s watched Yeonjun for years now, practicing until he was bruised, broken, and barely could stand. Yet he always persisted. His talent was out of this world; he was a natural. But he also worked hard—harder than most—which combined, brought him up to a whole other level.

Beomgyu is still in awe of him a lot of the time, even after all these years. This makes the longing easy. 

A star like Yeonjun, it’s impossible to not long for him. To be him, to be like him, to be with him. Everyone wanted at least one of those options.

So no, the longing wasn’t an issue.

The issue was, Beomgyu isn’t sure if he lets that longing show on his face, he’ll be able to turn it back off when the music stops.

—

With their unit stage, the group performance at the festival, and other end of year performances, Beomgyu and Yeonjun often had practices back-to-back. The members spent more time than not at the company at this time of year—all of them in and out of various practices, lessons, meetings. They practically lived in their practice room; oftentimes various members sat in the corner while others were practicing for a different stage. Everyone was too busy to go home for any length of time and too tired to do much else but sit and watch. 

Soobin ends up sitting in on one of their practices, early for their group practice which is scheduled later. Unlike Taehyun—whom the day before sat and watched them practice, giving his own opinions and suggestions between run-throughs—Soobin is hanging out in the corner on his phone. That is, he was, until Beomgyu drags him over to watch the practice they had just filmed, desperate for another opinion on how he could fix his inability to perform properly.

He restarts their latest video to examine himself for what feels like the millionth time. Soobin is not giving him any advice he hadn’t already heard—then Yeonjun butts in, a strange tone to his voice. “You should use your neck more.” 

Beomgyu pauses the video, looking over at Yeonjun standing next to him.

“I should… use... my neck…?”

“You know, like...” Yeonjun trails off, gesturing wildly at Beomgyu’s neck. An accident or on purpose, Beomgyu’s not sure, but a finger lightly brushes against the column of his throat as Yeonjun’s hands move, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Beomgyu ignores his skin prickling and looks over at Soobin with an incredulous expression, seeing if he can decipher what the hell Yeonjun was on about. Soobin, unhelpful, doesn’t look up from his phone but moves his shoulders in a weak shrug.

“Well… you just… your neck, it’s...” Yeonjun trails off again as Beomgyu turns back to look at him. Yeonjuns’ scratching the back of his head, looking at the floor. He taps the built-in cupboards lightly with the toe of his shoe, absent-mindedly shuffling his feet as he searches for words.

“My neck is what? Stiff? Too loose?” Beomgyu questions, desperate to understand what he was doing wrong so they can move on. He would take any advice he could get at this point. 

Anything that would help him show that longing without actually letting himself show that longing . Any way to help him be seductive without giving too much of himself away.

Yeonjun seems uncomfortable, extremely fascinated with the floor. “No! No, your neck is fine.. I just think you could use it more… to like… you know...” 

He continues to gesture vaguely. 

Beomgyu stares at him, not blinking. “I don’t know, Yeonjun. That’s why I’m asking you.”

“Your neck is hot, okay!” He blurts out. “You have an attractive neck, a nice Adam's apple and collar bones and all that. I was just saying use it to your advantage, play it up with your head movements and stuff.”

He looks like a kid who got caught stealing candy. Red is creeping down from his ears onto his neck and he hasn’t stopped shuffling his feet back and forth, toe tapping on the ground and hands shoved in his pockets.

Beomgyu’s confusion turns into a warm feeling. He lets his face sink into a smirk. 

He hears a puff of amused air come out of Soobin’s nose behind him, clearly more in tune with the conversation than his demeanor seems.

“My neck is hot, huh?”

Yeonjun sighs, wiping a hand down his face. “Beomgyu, don’t make this something-“

“No seriously, what does that even mean? What are you, a vampire or something?” Beomgyu questions, eyes narrowed on Yeonjun, who’s now glaring despite his red tinted ears. 

Something is vibrating in Beomgyu’s chest—warm and delighted.

“I’m never giving you advice ever again,” Yeonjun crosses his arms over his chest like a toddler throwing a fit. 

Beomgyu’s cheeks hurt from grinning.“You wanna bite me or something?”

Yeonjun’s responding groan is immediately drowned out by a loud gagging noise.

“Ew! Oh my god stop,” Soobin cuts in, putting his hands over his ears. “Not while I’m here, christ. Do your weird ass foreplay some other time.” He completely ignores both of their yells of denial, placing his headphones over his ears and walking out of the room to wait in the hall. 

Neither of them look at each other while getting back into their starting positions.

The next run through, Beomgyu tries to “use his neck more” per Yeonjun’s... suggestion? Request?

It helps, a little. He catches Yeonjun in the mirror a few times, his eyes trained on Beomgyu after he starts exaggerating his head rolls a bit more. His confidence lifts a little at Yeonjun’s sharp eyes watching him.

But still, not long after they’re met with the same thing—Beomgyu standing in front of the computer trying to figure out what is still off about his performance. It’s good, but that’s it. He wants it to be more than good—he wants to show that he can perform next to a star like Yeonjun on his own and hold his ground. 

He knows if he voiced these worries—the fear of not living up to Yeonjun performing next to him—the other would smack him and praise him until he melted into goo. He doesn’t want to seem insecure, to seem like he doesn’t think he’s good enough. 

Even if those thoughts cross his mind.

This sort of vibe, seductive and sexy, it comes easily to Yeonjun. Beomgyu’s not sure he even has to try most of the time—Yeonjun exudes sexy without trying. Sure, he has the sense of humor of a 12 year old boy and giggles like a schoolgirl just about 24/7, but his confidence and aura are enough to have a performance like this be second nature for him.

It’s not like Beomgyu thinks it’s impossible for him to be sexy. He knows he’s attractive—it’s literally part of his job to be—but the sexy, mature vibe needed for this performance isn’t as easy for him. He’s used to having four people surrounding him on stage, making it easier for him to get into that zone; it’s less uncomfortable when you have multiple other people doing the same thing beside you. 

Something about being next to only Yeonjun and not with the other members is throwing him. Especially because Yeonjun can seduce even while dripping with sweat, joggers pulled up one leg and prominent hat hair from ripping his beanie off halfway into the run through. His seduction is effortless.

It also doesn’t help that despite this all, Yeonjun showed up to practice with a button up tee that kept having more and more buttons undone as the practice room becomes hotter and hotter. And sweaty, exhausted, Yeonjun still looks like a deity; collarbones damp with sweat and biceps flexing with every movement, prominent beneath where he rolled up his sleeves. He makes the room feel many degrees hotter.

So it’s distracting, to say the least.

“I still need more from you Beomgyu, you really have to sell it,” their performance director tells him, the choreographer nodding along. Beomgyu thinks if he hears the word more one more time he’s going to scream. “It needs to be sexier, but in a more subtle way. You can’t do too much, or it seems too rehearsed.”

“Sexier but more subtle at the same time. Right,” Beomgyu huffs at the very opposite statements, rewinding the video again. He squints at the screen, consciously making an effort to only watch himself and not get distracted by the person performing with him. He wishes he could crop Yeonjun out of the video for the time being.

“I have an idea,” Yeonjun says, quietly. Beomgyu isn’t sure he likes where this is going, considering Yeonjun’s near whisper tells him it’s not an idea he feels he should announce to everyone. And Yeonjun’s “ideas” that day were... unexpected , to say the least. 

Beomgyu hums to let him know he’s listening but doesn't take his eyes off the screen. He feels Yeonjun hovering behind him. 

“Remember what I told you last night?”

Beomgyu has to consciously suppress a shiver as Yeonjun steps up behind him, looking towards the practice video. He places his hand on the desk on the opposite side of Beomgyu, effectively caging him in. If Beomgyu straightened up even a hair, his back would be completely pressed to Yeonjun’s front.

From anywhere else in the room, it would look like they were watching the video together. Close, yes, but nothing abnormal for them. No one else would be able to see the way Yeonjun’s lips just barely grazed Beomgyu’s ear when he spoke.

“Last night?” Beomgyu chokes out, voice barely audible over the video.

Yeonjun huffs, stepping back from Beomgyu slightly. “Don’t play dumb.” He can feel the heat radiating off the older even as he moves away.

Last night.

Images flash across his mind.

“Not those eyes, Beomgyu,” Yeonjun’s eyes narrowed, a warning.

Beomgyu cocked his head to the side, blinking a bit exaggeratedly. He let his bottom lip jut out a little, and ever so slightly, he tilted his chin downwards, so he’d have to look up at Yeonjun even more, through his eyelashes.

“What eyes, hyung?”

Beomgyu has to bite his cheek to suppress a grin. He spins around, still caged in by Yeonjun’s arm and meets his eyes.

“Those fucking lashes,” Yeonjun grit out, like it physically pained him to mention it, a thumb tracing over a cheekbone.

Beomgyu purposefully blinks a few times, trying to look as lost as possible, mouth naturally forming into a pout. He knows exactly what he is getting at, what eyes Beomgyu should use—they’re the ones he’s using on Yeonjun at that very second. 

“No clue what you mean,” he shrugs, holding eye contact for a beat too long before pushing past him. He lets his hand brush over Yeonjun’s shoulder as he walks past, left there—again—longer than necessary.

Yeonjun doesn’t immediately follow him back into the center of the room. Beomgyu can see him in the mirror taking his beanie off, rubbing a hand over his face and through his hair.

“Again?” Beomgyu asks, sweet as ever. He hears Yeonjun huff out a breath before making his way over to his starting point, shaking his head. He meets Beomgyu’s eyes in the mirror, once. A glare—not heated with anger but heated with something else entirely—met with an innocent smile.

From then on, the practices go on without a hitch; for Beomgyu, at least. Yeonjun, since their last break, starts to be the one criticized. A missed step here, a blank stare there—almost… distracted. It wasn’t like Yeonjun to be so flighty, so no one was particularly worried about the performance, but it was still not usual.

Beomgyu feels like he won the lottery.

“Let’s be done for today, this will do,” the performance director says after they finish their third run in a row. Beomgyu had received praises during and after every run through since his conversation with Yeonjun.

“Whatever you told him, it worked,” the choreographer says to Yeonjun. He gives a tight smile in return, huffing out tired breaths. The curve of his lips looks more pained than pleased. The conversation turns to Bomegyu. “You should listen to him more often.”

Yeonjun speaks before he can even protest. “He never listens to me.”

“What did I say? I told you not to move.”

“Make me.”

Beomgyu lets out a sarcastic gasp from where he’s laying flat on his back, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead. He lazily rolls his head over to look at Yeonjun, who is already looking down at him, sitting only a few inches away.

“Me? Of course I listen, I’m nothing but respectful.” 

“If that helps you sleep better at night, princess.”

—

Thanks to Yeonjun’s advice and their strict professionalism, the stage is a success. Beomgyu feels warm and fuzzy for most of the day, basking in Yeonjun’s praise and the image of the two of them on stage together.

It’s late, after the festival has finished and the dorm is mostly quiet. Beomgyu finds himself in a Twitter hole, scrolling through the search results of he and Yeonjun’s name. There were about a million posts of the two of them, specifically the part from when their performance was ending.

Since they prerecorded, the performance got cut off right around the bridge, and Beomgyu had been so in the zone he didn’t realize he was meant to stop. He only processed it when he suddenly felt tapping on his back and stepped back directly into Yeonjun’s arms. Hands on his waist steadied him as he turned his head, meeting Yeonjun’s fond smile. Recalling it makes his ears burn.

“You guys look good together,” Kai comments, suddenly behind Beomgyu. His phone promptly falls to the floor as he jolts in surprise.

“Jesus Kai, warn a guy,” he mutters. Kai leans down and picks up Beomgyu’s phone off the ground, not at all subtly peeking at what he was looking at. He snatches it from his hand and locks it before the younger can say a word.

“Moa loved it,” Kai continues, ignoring Beomgyu’s grumbles about scaring him and being nosy.

“I was just looking at the reactions,” Beomgyu tells him, maybe a hair too quickly. His phone is already unlocked and he’s still half reading comments as Kai talks.

“Your chemistry was definitely showing.”

Beomgyu can predict by the tone of his voice exactly how the younger will look when he looks up.

There’s a mischievous grin on Kai’s face and evil glint in his eyes from where he’s leaning against the cupboards opposite Beomgyu.

“Don’t start, Huening Kai,” Beomgyu warns, turning back to the pan on the stove filled with water, nearly ready to cook the ramen he had set out on the counter.

“What? I’m just complimenting you two.”

Beomgyu can hear the shit-eating grin in his voice. When he turns to face Kai again, his arms are crossed over his chest innocently, the look on his face anything but. Beomgyu’s glare doesn’t let up.

Kai casually turns, looking into the cupboards for a snack. His voice is slightly muffled from his head behind the cabinet door the next time he speaks. “I saw fans talking about how perfect it was that you two did that song, especially together.” Beomgyu ignores him, turning the heat down on the stove a bit. He hadn’t heard the shower turn off and he doesn’t want the ramen to cook too quickly. “They especially liked when, what was it that they said,” in his peripherals, Beomgyu sees Kai put a hand on his chin, like he’s thinking hard. “Oh, right, when Yeonjun hyung, quote, ‘Gently took Beomgyu’s waist in his hands like it was the most natural thing in the world.’”

The youngest lets out a yelp way too loud for the time of night when Beomgyu whips a dish towel at him, hitting him in the side. The yelp dissolves into a fit of laughter as he jumps away, Beomgyu feeling his ears start to heat up even as he goes after the youngest.

It takes Kai barely 5 seconds to plead for mercy, and Beomgyu leaves him slumped against the wall, the towel abandoned on his head, not even getting the chance to hit him again before Kai gives up.

He turns back to the ramen, turning the heat back up merely for something to do with his hands.

“It really was a good performance, hyung,” Kai says, sincerity in his voice this time. Beomgyu turns, meeting Kai’s eyes. And there’s Kai; the sweet, sincere version. Despite his general annoyance towards the youngest in the past few minutes, Beomgyu can’t help but push his lips into a point to suppress a smile.

“Thanks, Hueningie.”

They’re both quiet for a minute, an easy silence that comes from the comfort of two people who have spent more time with each other than their blood relatives for years on end. Simple, easy, safe.

“You know, I’d support it,” Kai says quietly.

“Hm?” Beomgyu replies, tearing open the ramen seasoning packet with his teeth.

“You and Yeonjun hyung.”

Beomgyu freezes for a split second before carefully training himself back to normal, tapping the last of the seasoning out of the package into the boiling water. He loves Kai to death, but he's a little too observant sometimes. It’s not a bad thing, until Beomgyu is left in situations like this.

It’s still probably not a bad thing, but Beomgyu knows there's only one option here.

“It’s not like that Kai, you know that,” Beomgyu says simply, crossing the room to throw away the wrappers. “Even if it was, it would be way too much of a risk for the group.”

“If anyone could make it work, it’d be you guys.”

Beomgyu’s heart clenches.

He’s been trying very hard to not make eye contact with Kai, afraid of what the younger would see there. But at Kai’s tone—genuine and gentle—he gives up, meeting his eyes.

He looks so young, bare-faced and hoodie tugged over him, hair a mess over his forehead. His eyes are shining with something hopeful. It hurts and heals at the same time.

“You’re sweet Kai-yah,” Beomgyu replies, not sure what else to say. He feels like Kai grabbed his heart, kneaded it over and over like dough, and then put it back in his chest. And he loves Kai so much, so big, that he can’t be mad in the slightest. 

Because Kai, ever so sweet, ever so truthful, always just wants the best for all of them. He’s constantly putting them first—the way the youngest shouldn’t ever have to. Yet he does, because that’s who Kai is. Beomgyu thinks if it was truly possible to have a heart of gold, Kai would have one. 24 carat.

When Beomgyu says nothing more, Kai’s gentle smile turns a bit sad—understanding, but sad. Beomgyu knows it’s pitying. It makes his doughy heart feel like someone was beating it with a rolling pin.

He can’t look at Kai anymore, it feels too much; too big, too serious. He turns back to the stove, clicking it off and stirring the noodles one last time.

“Well if you want someone to share food with, I’m down,” Kai breaks the silence, his voice back to that cheerful one he was using when he entered the kitchen. Beomgyu’s thankful Kai is an expert at reading the room.

“The extra portion of noodles is taken, sorry Hueningie,” Yeonjun’s voice suddenly enters the room. He ruffles the top of Kai’s hood on the way by, causing it to fall down over his face more. His hair is still damp from the shower, towel slung around his shoulders. 

Seeing him like this—fresh faced and wearing sweatpants that Beomgyu knew for certain were past due for a wash—he almost can’t believe he is the same Choi Yeonjun that had captivated the stage multiple times that day. He likes this Yeonjun the most, the one he knows best; the one who feels warm and safe and real . When he feels like he’s a Yeonjun few people get to experience. A Yeonjun that feels like he’s almost his Yeonjun .

“Hey, you just walked in here, I asked first,” Kai protests, pulling his hood back from where Yeonjun messed with it so he can see.

“But see, young Huening, my lovely Beomgyu here so kindly already told me to he’d make this for the two of us while I went to shower,” Yeonjun says overdramatically, easily moving next to Beomgyu and pulling the pan off the stove, grabbing a potholder and two pairs of chopsticks before heading to the table.

“You can have some if you want,” Beomgyu offers to the youngest. Yeonjun gives him an incredulous look. “Some of my portion,” he continues, raising a hand to rub over Yeonjun’s head like he’s a frazzled kitten. “Relax, Mr. Food Inhaler.”

Kai snickers.“Nah, I’m good, I just wanted to see just how feral Hyung would go for the ramen.”

Beomgyu watches his eyes glance to where Beomgyu’s hand hadn’t left Yeonjun’s head, absentmindedly playing with the wet strands of hair on the back of his neck. When Kai’s gaze goes to Beomgyu’s face, he tears his hand away—instantly regretting moving so frantically. He knows he looks guilty.

“You’re gonna catch a cold, leaving your hair wet,” Beomgyu tugs lightly on a piece of Yeonjun’s hair. He has to force himself to not visibly cringe at the tone of his own voice, too soft for Kai still in the room.

“Dry it for me?” Yeonjun looks up to where Beomgyu is standing next to his chair, eyes big and round. For having sharp, fox-like eyes 99% of the time, their oldest member had more than perfected the puppy dog eyes. Beomgyu isn’t sure if his pout is on purpose or just a side effect of Yeonjun’s naturally full lips. 

Big eyes, round cheeks, pouty lips. 

Beomgyu’s done for.

“You’re such a baby,” he groans, pulling the towel off Yeonjun’s neck and placing it over his head, rubbing a little harder than necessary and purposefully covering his face.

Yeonjun whines but giggles too, swatting in the direction of Beomgyu’s legs. He successfully makes contact with what was not Beomgyu’s legs, but his ass, and smacks—hard. Beomgyu yelps. 

Yeonjun’s responding snicker tells Beomgyu he knew exactly what he was aiming for.

“And that’s my queue to leave,” Kai’s voice comes in, Beomgyu nearly fogetting he was still there. He glances over to see the youngest already looking at the two of them, and when Beomgyu meets his eyes, he says nothing but raises his eyebrows.

“Goodnight, Kai-yah,” Beomgyu says forcefully, glad there is a towel on Yeonjun’s head so he can’t see the silent conversation he and Kai are having that probably would’ve sounded a lot like I told you so, it doesn’t mean anything, sure it doesn’t, leave it alone, if said out loud.

Beomgyu moves back to rubbing the towel over Yeonjun’s head, gently now—actually attempting to dry his hair and not just annoy the older. He pulls it off and runs his fingers through the strands, fixing his part and making it a little less insane. The older tilts his head back, those fond eyes working quadruple overtime when they meet Beomgyu’s.

“Thanks Beomie-yah,” he grins, reaching out and rubbing a hand up and down Beomgyu’s arm. Beomgyu nods in lieu of an answer, cheeks hot. He drapes the towel over the back of Yeonjun’s chair and sits down next to him.

Their knees knock together as Beomgyu settles in the chair, pulling one leg to cross under him and placing his foot on the chair with the other, knee bent up next to him. He leans closer to Yeonjun to reach the ramen.

He’s about to take a bite when he nearly falls straight into Yeonjun’s lap, his chair suddenly moving underneath him. Yeonjun had grabbed the bottom edge of it and tugged it closer to his. “There, now you can reach better,” he says, immediately going back to eating.

His knee and thigh are resting on Yeonjun’s own thigh, given the proximity. 

Beomgyu concludes he’s going to have to take on the name of Food Inhaler to distract himself. He takes a huge bite.

They eat quietly, the exhaustion of the day catching up to them. Yeonjun sits back when he’s on his last bite, stretching his arms over his head.

“Hyung is so spoiled tonight,” Yeonjun hums around the mouthful he was chewing. “My Beomgyu cooks for me, he dries my hair, he saves me from having to share food with Huening.”

My Beomgyu.

He reaches over and strokes the side of Beomgyu’s head, fingers lightly curling around his ear and cheeks full with food. He looks like a pufferfish, if fish had the capability of being fond.

“I’ll be waiting for my reward,” Beomgyu states, slurping his last bite of noodles. He hadn’t meant much by it, so he nearly startles when Yeonjun’s free hand falls into his lap, resting on his thigh.

“Hmm,” Yeonjun absentmindedly plays with the folds of Beomgyu’s sweatpants. “I think I can think of a way to reward you.” His tone is suddenly deep and dangerous. Beomgyu doesn’t dare look towards him; he can feel Yeonjun’s gaze burning on the side of his face. It’s times like this that Beomgyu is thankful for the way his long hair covers his ears. “Do you wanna know?” 

Beomgyu could swear he’s moving closer, his hand still drawing patterns on his thigh. A questioning hum is the only way he knows how to answer. He’s stuffed, but he wishes there was more ramen for him to inhale as a means of busying himself.

He glances towards the thermostat, convinced Kai must’ve turned the heat up when he was in the kitchen. He feels warm, like he’s running a fever.

It’s set to the same temperature as always. 

His hands are clammy, waiting for Yeonjun to speak.

“I will...”

He doesn’t dare to look, but it feels like Yeonjun’s hand is moving a bit higher on his leg. It’s also 2:30am, so Beomgyu can’t completely trust his senses. He doesn’t realize, until his head starts to spin, that he’s holding his breath.

“Your reward will be…”

Now he’s sure Yeonjun’s hand is moving. Ever so slowly the pads of his fingers brush up and down Beomgyu’s thigh. Beomgyu’s hand opposite to where Yeonjun is sat grips the side of his chair, knuckles white. He keeps his eyes carefully trained on the bowl in front of them. There’s barely anything left but some broth and a few small bits of noodles. He swirls his chopsticks around in the bowl, trying to focus on anything but the feeling of Yeonjun’s touch creeping higher. 

When Yeonjun finally speaks again, it startles the air out of Beomgyu, who has been trying (and failing) to breathe normally. “I will… do the dishes,” Yeonjun finishes.. 

Beomgyu forgets what they had been talking about. He glances at the thermostat a second time, truly convinced he had seen it wrong before. His body feels like it’s on fire.

The thermostat is still the same.

“Huh?” Is all he can say.

“I’ll do the dishes.” Yeonjun smiles innocently when Beomgyu finally meets his eyes. There’s a glint in this eyes that says nothing but mischief. His hand is now sat near Beomgyu’s knee; like it had been innocently resting there the whole time.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Beomgyu grits out, standing up so quickly he knocks against the table, Yeonjun’s hand falling out of his lap. He grabs his phone as he rubs at his hip, sore where it hit off the table. He swears he hears a snicker from behind him but he forces himself to make his way out of the kitchen without looking back. He doesn’t trust his 2:30am brain to see what he knows is written all over Yeonjun’s face.

“Wait, Gyu,” Yeonjun’s voice comes suddenly, just as he makes it out of the doorway of the kitchen. He doesn’t even have time to turn around before Yeonjun’s long arms wrap around him, his face nuzzling into the side of Beomgyu’s neck. His nose is cold where it’s pressed to Beomgyu’s skin, making him shiver. “Thank you for cooking, seriously,” his voice is back in that fond tone. “And good job today. I had a lot of fun doing that stage with you.”

Beomgyu deflates in Yeonjun’s arms, sagging back into him as a way of returning the hug. His heart hasn’t stopped that fast beating, but the temperature of the room seems more tolerable. Soft, warm, comfortable and safe; like a heated blanket. He received a multitude of compliments that day, but none of them felt as good as Yeonjun’s.

Yeonjun had a way of making him feel so incredibly seen.  

Almost known.  

In a way that he couldn’t allow.

“Of course Hyung, you worked hard today,” He rubs a hand over Yeonjun’s arm, which is tight against his stomach. He’s thankful Yeonjun wasn’t able to feel the knots there; the vacillation. 

To be seen, or be unknown ?

Without warning, Yeonjun moves quickly, grabbing both sides of Beomgyu’s head and tugging it towards him, planting a wet kiss on his cheek. He makes an exaggerated mwah sound along with the action.

“Ew, enough, I get it,” Beomgyu shoves Yeonjun away, who’s in a fit of giggles. Beomgyu rolls his eyes but can’t suppress the grin on his face. His cheek feels damp from where Yeonjun’s lips made contact. If he had a bit more shame, he’d reach up and wipe it off. 

He leaves it.

Their eyes meet for a few seconds and Beomgyu’s heart tightens. “Night Hyung,” he sighs, moving back towards his room before he says or does something he’d regret.

“Night Beomie,” Yeonjun calls after him.

Beomgyu’s opening his door when Yeonjun calls his name once more. It’s so quiet he’s not sure he heard right, but he looks over to see him standing in the doorway to the kitchen, not moved since Beomgyu walked away. He meets Yeonjun’s eyes, questioningly.

“Sleep well,” Yeonjun’s voice is quiet, that special tone that seems reserved for Beomgyu. If there was a word more intense than fond, that would explain the look on Yeonjun’s face. Beomgyu pretends he doesn’t know a single synonym for the word, for his own good. “Love you.”

His heart clenches.

Fool.

“Love you too, Yeonjjunie,” he answers.

It’s the easiest and hardest thing he’s done all day.