Chapter Text
“Declined. Declined. De- fucking- clined.”
Yenjun’s fist collides with the metal surface.
There's a glint of anger between his eyebrows. Between his hair strands there's sweat, between his palms there’s bruised skin. In the space between him and Beomgyu, there's that certain unreadable tension.
Yet none of it compares to the heavy air weighting down their expressions.
Beomgyu’s gaze lifts from the ticket machine- with the big and bold letters ‘CARD DECLINED’ up to Yeonjun’s face.
The dried blood above his eyebrow is mocking Beomgyu. Telling him all the things he doesn’t want to hear or know. Staining most- but only parts of his vision red.
He’s afraid that if he looks down to his own two hands, there will be even more red. Blood, or even the leather steering wheel his fingertips weren’t gripping tight enough.
There’s not a single word being said, and when the ATM says that Yeonjun’s father’s credit card is locked, Beomgyu’s heart drops to his stomach, his breath shortening. There is nothing to say. Nothing at all.
“He must’ve,” Yeonjun begins then, fingers shaky around the credit card. “Noticed that I took his card. We…” what the fuck are they going to do? “We are so fucked.”
People are rushing behind them, trying to catch their train to go home from work, most likely. There's a small line forming behind them. The smell of fresh bread is mocking them from the bakery next to them. Both of their noses are dusted in a deep shade of pink. Winter fucking sucks. So does having no money.
And Yeonjun looks like a sore thumb, with his bruised and bloody face wood-burning itself behind Beomgyu’s eyelids.
It’s his fault.
--
Two hours earlier
There’s nothing quite as petrifying as almost hitting a truck and speeding on the wrong track of the highway- at least that’s what Beomgyu concludes, when he stands at the side of Yeonjun’s destroyed car which- of course- had hit the guardrail face first, silver scratched into an ugly grey. Wheels barely hanging on. License plate crushed and bent. Drops of blood adorning Beomgyu’s coincidentally white shirt.
Yeonjun stands by his side almost immediately after, both painfully aware of the close to empty highway, no sounds of cars echoing off of the vast space for too long. Shit, why is it always so quiet with you lately?
Talking seemed like a chore.
“I'm pretty sure that it’s about to burn down.” Beomgyu absentmindedly remembers the last show Yeonjun, Hueningkai and him had back in autumn. When he wore a light vest and his guitar pick never slipped out of his right hand.
“No,” Beomgyu replies soon after, the smell of gasoline attacking his nostrils. The truck from earlier had honked at them, then drove into the deep distance behind them. “We can fix this, come on- we can, we can fucking fix this-” before Beomgyu gets too close to the car, Yeonjun violently pulls him back by his wrist, tears welling up in the brunettes eyes.
If only then, it was autumn again. He wants to be in his room with his guitar pressed to his chest. He wants to get yelled at by his mother for playing it too loud, almost getting caught with Yeonjun’s head in his lap. He wants to laugh and intentionally strum the guitar strings harsher right after.
He’s supposed to be happy. He’s supposed to finally be happy.
Yet when he finally sees the huge cut in the middle of Yeonjun’s ear and the one above his eyebrow, he can only feel guilt. Guilty, or feeling responsible for things he’s not sure he even did.
They both step back from the car and start walking away from it in fear. Suddenly Beomgyu’s mind goes blank, and he wonders if he is going to wake up in Soobins apartment any time soon now. This must be a dream. It has to be.
They should probably call the police- but then- who is going to explain how this happened? No seatbelts? Wrong direction? Speeding? Running away from home? Stealing money- what else is there that Beomgyu could possibly still fit in his handwritten mental list called ‘Reasons why we fucked up’ ?
Yeonjun seems calmer than he probably should be.
“You’re hurt, Yeonjun.” he eventually coughs out, hands cold and shaky. The older boy stops in his steps then, face unreadable. He looks apprehensive, as if something bad is about to happen. As if this could get any worse than now.
Although when he leans in for a hug, warm blood rampantly drips down Beomgyu’s shirt, and he doesn’t quite know what to say. What is there even to say? Every time he was with him, he felt like words couldn’t stop exploding out of his mouth. Now, it feels like those same words are being stuffed right back down his throat. There is just nothing to say.
“I wish you knew that I love you.” Surely, back in October, happiness didn’t feel like this. Happiness was going on carnival dates. It was making out at midnight. It was practicing stupid, cheesy songs about love with your best friends right after school ended. It was pain tugging at his cheeks because of smiling too hard.
It isn’t supposed to be a smashed car in the middle of nowhere. And it surely isn’t supposed to be jealousy. It’s not supposed to be feeling uneasy around Yeonjun of all people.
Fingers loop in the fabric of his shirt when Beomgyu’s eyes drift off to their car in the distance, noticing the faint- yet acrid smoke suddenly crawling out of the engine hood. Shit, he thinks.
“Yeonjun,” No response. The red spots on his shirt only increase by the second. “Yeonjun hyung, Yeonjun!” But then it’s too late, because the car breaks into a stentorian, almost shrill din. A huge flame reaches up mid air, crawling out of the windows on the sides.
The heat gets unbearable almost, as they both stare at Yeonjun’s Mercedes crumbling into ashes right in front of them- as if this is all a prank of sorts. As if he is supposed to wake up from this nightmare any second now. As if this isn’t actually Yeonjun’s car in front of them- melting at its sides- but merely a styrofoam knockoff of it.
Beomgyu swiftly takes notice of his own reflection in the cracked exterior mirror, staring back at him- and sees the blood trickling down his lips along the way. He didn’t notice, but his nose is bleeding.
And when he looks down, he sees that his left pointer finger is too. The longer he stares at it, the more it starts to ache. Maybe he should never look down again.
--
Present
Beomgyu and Yeonjun soon come to the conclusion that; simply fair dodging the train to Daegu will surely not be as big of a deal as whatever the fuck they had just went through. Even as they sit in the tight space and look outside of the window next to them instead of at each other, there’s nothing much to say.
Beomgyu gasps a bit when he moves his wrist to adjust the white undershirt wrapped around his hand as an attempt to not make his finger bleed out even more.
After fixing Beomgyu’s broken finger with a shirt and water and cleaning up Yeonjun’s along with his own face at the railway station's germ filled- public toilet, there were only so few things to think about.
They now have around twentyseven thousand won in cash, a broken finger which will probably have to get operated on- with no way of going to the hospital and getting it fixed, no car, no working phones and a flashing led light in the back of both of their heads, telling them that this might have just been a bad idea.
Beomgyu stares at the small TV on the back of someone's seat a couple meters away, the news broadcast going in one ear and out the other. There was one last message from Hueningkai on his lockscreen that he couldn’t finish reading, his phone turning off just before he could do so.
“Remember in autumn, when you told me that we could never tell Kai, about us- I mean.” He breaks the silence, eyes lingering on Yeonjun’s earring which has a drop of blood dried over it.
His boyfriend spares him a glance, attention all on the passing trees and clouds outside. The sun is setting slowly.
“What are you trying to say” comes from him, the dryness of his lips so obvious.
“You know, back then, it had hurt my feelings. I thought it was stupid that we had to hide something like this from the world, when i know that we shouldn’t have to.” He trails off, hand pulsating in his lap. “That's why we fought so much back then.”
“But now, somehow- I regret it.” Beomgyu breathes out slowly.
“I regret everything. I regret ever doing all of this, because I'm supposed to be happy- yet I don’t think I'll ever be, unless things magically go back to how they used to be.”
“It was fine- how things were back then. Sure, I couldn't kiss you in public. But now I can, and finally did- yet I guess that only led me to find out you used to have a boyfriend you never even told me about,” Yeonjun finally looks at him through heavy eyebags.
“And to bring me over to his place? To find out from him- not you- that you guys used to date? Excuse me for feeling like this, but,” Beomgyu forces the tears back in. “That was so shitty of you.”
“And now i have a fucked up hand,” he raises said hand in the air, eyes full with tears. “And no more money.”
Yeonjun shakes his head and says. “You sure still got a lot to say when you’re supposed to stay quiet.” there's a pause. “I'm sorry, okay? Im fucking sorry, and- it wasn’t supposed to end like this. I am an asshole. I know. But please just be quiet and let me think about everything for a little.”
“I think you have had enough time to think.”
He thinks he sees the older one's thigh tense at the comment.
“Oh, so you’re going to start another fight- again? Like how you did right before you crashed my car and we both almost fucking died?”
Beomgyu’s eyes widened. “You know what? You’re right.” Yeonjun then gazes at him with dark eyes, almost hopeful. “You are an asshole. A real fucking asshole.”
He opens his mouth, yet nothing really comes out. Black hair looks messy on his forehead, out of its usually styled and parted form. He looks stressed.
Fighting with him feels surreal to Beomgyu. In a completely bad way.
It’s different now. Not even when they had first started dating and fought a lot about the smallest things was it like this. It feels like there’s someone poking at his heart strings with a toothpick. It hurts.
Yeonjun’s non-existent answer is cut short when the aforementioned TV from a couple meters away surprisingly gets louder, all heads turning towards it, as well as their own.
“Seoul central police station is now asking for the public's help to find two missing persons, reporters say; two male teenagers, around the ages of twenty and twenty one missing since last friday, the 16th of december. According to parents both were supposedly last seen in a silver Mercedes and are likely to be in the possession of hard drugs or even dangerous weapons- and have stolen a large amount of money from their parents. Police say that said car has been spotted around thirty minutes ago at the side of the highway leading from Seoul to Daejeon! Burning down with significant damage and no signs of people around.”
What?
“If you do spot either of these men,” A picture of both of them flash on the small screen, with a phone number at the bottom. “Please do contact the police as we are in desperate search for both, with worried friends and family we are concerned for their safety.”
The outro of the news report plays. Then it plays again, again and once again until the next news report about something completely so off-topic shows up on screen.
And it’s that picture. The one Beomgyu had stuffed in his pocket the day he had finally left home. The one with his magenta guitar and Yeonjun’s arm around his shoulders.
Again, what is there really to say?
It’s definitely more than just the usual quiet now.
Its odd, he thinks. When you see a missing persons report for yourself on the news.
They briefly stare at each other, like how they didn’t dare to all day long until now. Beomgyu believes he sees Yeonjun’s left eye twitch. There’s a bit of dried blood stuck under his eyelid that he seems to have missed while cleaning. There's no words being exchanged, and they both don’t know what the other might be thinking. If Yeonjun were to guess, he’d say Beomgyu’s head is probably full of nothing but static noise.
“And what the fuck do we do now?” Subconsciously, Beomgyu feels a couple heads turning and eyes staring holes into his hair.
He feels his face paling by the second. He feels the last drops of spit dry up between his front teeth as well.
“Drugs? Weapons?” Yeonjun suddenly stands to his feet after a couple minutes of uncomfortable silence, knees wobbling with the speed of the train. “Beomgyu, they filed a missing persons report. And not for the right reasons, no,” Beomgyu feels like his heart will stop beating in his chest any second now. “We’re literally going to fucking jail.”
He wishes there was an appropriate time to just talk about it- about what they should do, but there's nothing to even think- let alone speak about.
“I just, I can’t-” He continues, then starts walking down the length of the train. Where the fuck is he going?
So Beomgyu grabs his phone and a couple other belongings while stuffing them in his jacket pockets, bottom lip shaking from uncertainty.
I want to go home. I want to go home. It's all he can think about- going home.
Turns out Yeonjun doesn't really know where he is going either, because when Beomgyu catches up to him and grabs his coat from the back, he’s quiet.
“I think I want to go home now, hyung.” He mumbles out.
And if only they could, then things might still go right, and not downhill anymore- but it's only mere seconds after when they are rushing through the train again- into the opposite direction at that- away from the conductor behind them as subtle however painfully obvious as they possibly can.
They obviously don’t have any goddamn tickets. And apparently they also really fucking suck at fair dodging. How can this get any worse, really?
They should just go home. They should turn themselves in and explain how whatever the hell was said on the news about the drugs and weapons- it's not true- how could it ever be? It's not true, although the burned-down car bit is true. The stolen money also is. Fuck this.
Beomgyu grips onto his boyfriend's hand tightly as he leads him to one of the doors. There's a small prayer being recited in Beomgyu’s head that says oh god, please just let the train arrive at the next stop just in time for them to please just escape this goddamned conductor.
--
Yet they don’t, because obviously, how perfect would life even be if they were able to?
Yeonjun’s leg bounces on the floor as they sit in the crammy office, backs straight as they sit side to side like gum. It’s all shit now. It smells like coffee and stacks of paper. There’s also the faint smell of lipstick. He wants to go home.
“So, Choi Yeonjun,” the red lipped woman points an accusing finger at him, then directs it at Beomgyu right after. “and Choi Beomgyu. Not only did you guys not pay for a train ticket, but you are actually filed as missing persons right now?” What the fuck is her deal?
“So tell me.” Her long fingers knot in front of her face, beneath her chin. “What are you guys up to? Who did you kill? Come on, tell me.” she dramatically laughs then, leaving a bitter taste on the tip of Beomgyu’s tongue. “I'm not telling.” she jokingly puts a finger on top of her lips.
“None of your business.” Yeonjun spits out, making Beomgyu turn towards him with wide eyes. There’s no way he just said that.
“I don’t think that's how you should talk to someone who is about to give you a fine and take you to the police station.” Beomgyu plays with his fingernails. That's one way to put it. Somehow he agrees with the lady. He fucking hates getting in trouble and facing confrontation.
“Please excuse me while I get some documents you need to fill out,” she glares at Yeonjun while standing on her feet, lips turned downwards. “Don’t move.”
They don’t, for about forty-six seconds, (Beomgyu had counted it) until Yeonjun yet again jumps up from his seat, hand already around the younger boy's wrist, careful to not grip on it too tight- but tight enough for Beomgyu to still feel the sting crawling up to his broken finger.
“What’s the plan?” Beomgyu asks slowly when they’re out of the office, eyes carefully scanning the busy floors.
Yeonjun shakes his head lightly. “Getting the fuck out of here and going to fucking Daegu.”
--
One week later
“We should probably break up.”
Beomgyu wishes he could get his shit together and argue. He wishes he could bring up reasons on why this is all a terrible, terribly horrible idea, and explain why Yeonjun shouldn’t leave him and this isn’t even what he wants- are you even listening to yourself, Yeonjun? Come on, it's me- You can’t leave me like this. You’re not being truthful to yourself. Are you being honest? Are you lying?
But the longer- or even faster the seconds pass, Beomgyu finds less and less words to describe what he wants to say in the scrambled mess that is his brain. Eventually, he opts to simply keeping his lips sealed shut.
It’s difficult. Because they didn’t actually make it.
They returned back home. They didn’t get arrested (surprise), gave up their plans to stay in Daegu- because really, how idiotic was it when they finally arrived at the adress Beomgyu had written down in the palm of his hand, and they find out that Beomgyu’s father moved to new zealand eight years ago, is remarried and even has children.
It's kind of melodramatic. Like the end of a terrible movie that should’ve had the end credits roll one hour prior. There was only pointless plot being added, added- and added again when they decide to turn themselves in and get this large fucking fee they have to pay off some way or another- so now it’s substrated- substracted- and one last subtraction, when Yeonjun decides to come over to his house, only to tell him they should not continue their relationship any longer.
How long does it take to fall out of love?
Is it the unaccepting parents that have caused it? Is it the trouble they have gotten into? Is it because of the car? Or, the most realistic answer in Beomgyu’s mind, is it because things can never be how they used to be ever again?
Friends from school look at him differently. It genuinely feels like people on the street are watching him. His professors give him a look full of disappointment, sometimes sympathy.
Then again, it’s not like his mother looked at him at all. Even seeing her at home at all was rare. She is just silent about it. Like she’s afraid of her own son. There is nothing much to say. On one hand, Beomgyu couldn’t blame her.
But he knows that Yeonjun isn’t receiving the same silent treatment at home. He knows that they're yelling at him. He knows, because he can tell from the bruise near Yeonjun’s eye that struck out to him 5 and a half days after their arrival back home, when they finally had the guts to meet up again.
Hueningkai wasn’t mad. It’s more like, when you tried to read his expression, you’d come face to face with disappointment and sadness written between eyelashes. There was no excuse. And Kai only hugged Beomgyu silently, like everything and everyone around him lately, words stuck in his spit. It won't come out.
“Yeah,” Shit, that's not what I wanted to say. I don’t want to break up. I don’t want to break up. Please don’t leave me.
“Maybe we should.” Beomgyu wishes he could shut up for once.
It's awkward. Again. How are you supposed to act after you’ve impulsively agreed to break up with your boyfriend when that is the opposite of what you want to do?
Yeonjun shifts on his feet, converse tied high up to his ankles. He looks tired, out of place. Is Beomgyu supposed to ask why? Why do you want to break up with me? Then again, does he even want to know? From the endless possibilities which one could it have been?
Beomgyu stands up from his bed, acoustic guitar leaning at the side of it, fine strings coated in a layer of dust. Now when he thinks about it, there's no point of ever touching it again. He won’t need to practice again. He won’t ever have to bruise his fingers until the early hours of the morning on the roof of Yeonjun’s car again. Beomgyu wonders if the wood still has that faint smell of cigarettes on it, from the time Yeonjun dug a bud in its pickguard.
He expects Yeonjun to turn around and leave, yet he doesn’t. He stands still, eyes wandering as if it wasn’t the hundredth time he’d seen Beomgyu’s four walls, the white of his eye contrasting to the purple of his bruised skin.
“You’re not going to ask why?”
Beomgyu wonders, inching closer to his now ex-boyfriend. It’s stupid to respond to a question he has been asking himself in his head and hasn’t found an answer for yet.
“I still love you.” It’s like salty water against an open wound. It burns. Yeonjun doesn’t react.
“I know, I-” a wet cough interrupts his sentence. “I need to figure my life out.”
Beomgyu nods shortly, his split ends tickling his shoulder. “I get that. I think it’s for the better.” He doesn’t think that at all.
Yeonjun’s sweater is pooling at his hips like it always does. His eyes are full of close to no emotion. Beomgyu feels bad. “I love you too.”
It doesn’t matter what Beomgyu would’ve said, anyway, because the other has already leaned down and pecked his lips within seconds. It’s unusual. They haven’t kissed in a long time. Things just aren’t the same anymore, how could they be.
There's another kiss, another, and Beomgyu almost loses his mind. Yet when Yeonjun tells him that he has to go home after around twenty minutes of kissing, Beomgyu thinks he isn't even mad about it. It’s okay. It’s fine- he simply needs time. This is shit for both of them. He hopes that this isn’t the end of everything.
When it's new years, and Beomgyu decides that calling once wouldn’t hurt, he’s met with a voicemail. A week and three missed calls- along with no sight of him at college later, Beomgyu slowly starts to believe they should keep their distance. Maybe he’s not ready. Maybe I should really just give him more time.
Time passes like that, agonizingly, slowly, uneventfully. The picture of him and his ex-boyfriend lies flat in his palm, having not had the guts to get rid of it yet, he stands proud on his feet.
Deciding to visit Yeonjun’s house after another month's awful silence, yet when he stands on his toes and peeks over the high wall, from the window he only sees an empty room in the space where Yeonjun’s entire stuff is supposed to be.
The picture crumbles between his fingers. Yeonjun’s mom spots him, and when she tells him with a roll of her eyes and an insulting scoff, that Yeonjun has gone to the military, Beomgyu feels like his heart is being crumpled along with it.