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Yeonjun knows that one should never get a relationship tattoo. He—maybe more than some—knows this. He’s heard the stories that run out of his boyfriend’s mouth and they’re always followed by a loud cackle. The way he presents the sketches to him and gives his estimate of how long he thought the relationship would last.
I give it two months, he would say.
Don’t you think that’s being a little mean? Yeonjun would respond back.
But Beomgyu would always shake his head and say you’ll see. In two months, they’ll come back and ask where they can get them removed.
Sure enough, even though Yeonjun always wants to give the customers the benefit of the doubt, they always come back and ask where the nearest laser clinic is.
So Yeonjun knows the odds, but as he sits on a stool at the back of his boyfriend’s tattoo parlour, wearing his brown apron with Two Lips in Bloom written on the front pocket, Yeonjun can’t help but see the appeal. It’s comforting to have someone you love marked on your skin. It’s permanent, and you can’t help but hope that the person will be too.
And besides, Yeonjun doesn’t believe in jinxes, he believes in people. He believes in Beomgyu.
He watches Beomgyu, bending over someone’s back, gun in hand, slowly poking at the reddening skin. He watches as Beomgyu’s hair falls in front of his eyes and how every time he stops to wipe away the little beads of blood he throws his head back, flipping his hair away and out of his face. Yeonjun always tells him to tie his hair back when working, but Beomgyu rarely ever listens to him.
Beomgyu peels himself away from the tattoo table, setting down the gun and cleaning the area. Yeonjun walks over as he notices him start to layer on the ointment and layer on the saniderm. “-Suncreen to help protect the tattoo from the sun. The aftercare instructions are also written on this paper so don’t lose it.”
When Beomgyu wheels back on his chair, moving himself away from the customer who’s laying down on the tattoo table, Yeonjun goes over. “I should get back to the shop, my hour is almost up.”
Beomgyu looks up at him from his seat, he’s so small, sitting and peeling the gloves off of his hands. Yeonjun can’t help but want to scoop him up and place him in a pot. He’s like a garden fairy. Yeonjun learned a long time ago not to let Beomgyu’s dark exterior fool you.
Beomgyu looks tough, it’s hard for him not to with the piercings. He has a total of eight. He has two silver lip rings that sit at the corner of his mouth—it was Yeonjun’s favorite, there’s something about the feeling of metal rings against your lips that makes kissing feel all the more better— but Yeonjun would never admit that. He has a small stud in his nose, a little diamond on the opposite side of the rings. He has two piercings in each lobe of his ears and an industrial in one.
But despite his piercings and tattoos, Beomgyu’s gentle. You can see it in the way he always helps his clients sit up after hours of having a needle poke into their skin, how he gives them juice in case they feel queasy, he puts all the instructions of how to clean your tattoo on a paper instead of just listing them off. Beomgyu is caring, it’s the first thing Yeonjun had noticed about him, it was the first step that led him into falling in love.
⚘
The air of the university dorm room was hot and sticky as Yeonjun sat at the desk by the slightly cracked window, a light breeze coming in to help cool the room. There was a small fan that was blurring loudly, the air shooting straight for the back of his neck. Sweat was leaking down the back of his neck and Yeonjun felt disgusting, he probably—no, he definitely—needed a shower. Students didn't usually stay on campus during the summer, but it beat staying at home with nothing to do.
Not that there was much to do on campus either. But campus was different from being at home. It was home but not the kind of home that felt like home. He didn't have his mom's cooking, he didn't have chores, he didn't have his childhood toys hidden at the back of his closet, it was just him. Well, him and his roommate's empty bed.
There was a knock at the door and Yeonjun turned away from his desk and towards the closed door of his square-shaped dorm. It was a month and a half into summer break and Yeonjun hadn't interacted with anyone since he helped his roommate pack his boxes into his shitty Subaru. But he wasn't going to be back until the start of the semester. And Yeonjun couldn't think of anyone who would visit campus during summer break or anyone he knew who was staying on campus.
So Yeonjun slowly stood from his chair, grabbing the closest object around him; his potted Fenestraria Baby Toes. It was a type of succulent, and Yeonjun was doing a pretty good job of taking care of it, if he did say so himself—and he did, quite often.
Yeonjun wasn't defenseless by any means, he had a few centimeters on most people, and he wasn't necessarily lanky, but you never really know what you could be up against.
He swallowed hard, bringing his hand towards the gold-colored knob. He slowly turned it, raising the pot. He quickly pulled the door open, revealing a boy.
Just a boy. Not even a tall boy. He was about Yeonjun's height, maybe a little shorter. He was holding a textbook in his hand and his fingers were stained black. Yeonjun lowered the plant, "Oh. Hi?"
The boy glanced at the baby toes and then back at Yeonjun, "Were you gonna hit me with a succulent?"
His voice was deep. Deeper than Yeonjun thought it would be. The boy had long hair, it was fluffy and dark, it was holding his cheeks in its strands. "Sorry—no, I was just...lifting weights? You know... at-home workout things..." a little too obvious of a lie.
"Is this not D304?" the boy said instead, looking at the door and back at Yeonjun.
The boy’s black ripped jeans, tucked white shirt and checkered plaid cardigan made Yeonjun feel a little underdressed. He was in a loose white tank and gray jogger shorts and his hair was a brown mess.
To be fair, he wasn’t expecting company for another month.
Yeonjun shifted his weight onto his other leg, cradling the plant in his arms, "Yeah...why?"
"I'm looking for Soobin hyung. I have his book." He waved it around.
"He's gone. Summer break. I'm his roommate, Choi Yeonjun."
The boy looked at his feet and then around him. Yeonjun thought he was uncomfortable.
(Now Yeonjun knows that that's what he does when he's thinking. He looks at the world, waiting for an answer.)
"Can I leave it with you, Sunbae? I don't really need it."
Yeonjun grabbed the book, "Sure. I'll leave it on Soobin's bed." Yeonjun turned, setting the flower on a random spot on his wardrobe, amongst others. He tossed the book on Soobin's bed.
"You have a lot of plants." the boy cut in.
Yeonjun turned, expecting him to already have been gone. "Uh, yeah. I like plants."
The boy stepped into the dorm, "Soobin hyung never let me in. What a dick, he didn't even tell me he was leaving." The boy looked back to Yeonjun, "Don't you think, Sunbae?"
"Call me Hyung. And I don't think he meant to not tell you, he probably forgot. Also, the not letting you in thing is probably because of me." Yeonjun shrugged, sitting on his bed. He watched him walk around the room, almost like it was his.
(Yeonjun thinks that was one of his gifts. He could walk into a new room and make it his.)
A small grin spread itself on the boy's face and he looked at a potted plant on the floor, "Hm, you probably don't want me in here, huh, Hyung?" He crouched down, bringing a finger to the plant. He touched the small petals lightly with his ink-stained finger. "Are you an environmental science major or something?"
Yeonjun shook his head, "Urban design."
The boy turned to him now, "What's that?"
"It's like designing what a city would look like, parks and stuff." He explained.
"So you're an architect for nature?"
Yeonjun stared at the boy, "Sure."
The stranger flipped his hair out of his face, the silver of an earring glaring in the sun. "I'm a visual arts major,"
Yeonjun let out an "Oh, that explains it."
The long-haired boy smirked, "Explains what?"
"Your hands. You look like you just murdered a squid." Yeonjun pointed.
"My pen broke." the boy explained, holding both his hands out, stretching them wide to show him.
Yeonjun nodded, "you wanna be an artist?"
The boy took his hands back and let out a laugh, "God no. I want to work at a tattoo parlor." He looked back at the plant, observing it. "Parents want me to at least have a degree though...here I am."
"Yeah, I'm not really into this whole major thing either,"
The boy smirked, moving his eyes away from the plant, he started to brush the small petals of the flowers again, "Not a fan of designing grass?"
Yeonjun rolled his eyes, "Just not a fan of school. I want to own a flower shop one day."
"You should go into regular architecture for that," the boy bit his bottom lip, trying to hold in his laugh.
(How confident the two of them were; talking about their dreams so openly. Hadn't anyone ever taught them not to say their wishes out loud?)
"You're cute," Yeonjun remarked, he hadn't thought twice about saying it. He was cute. Cute in the way he spoke. It had an edge, it came off innocent but you knew there was something underneath it. The word Yeonjun was looking for was wit.
The stranger looked away from him again, "I prefer charming."
Yeonjun didn't get why he was so interested in his plants, most people weren’t.It was just a—"pretty lilac." He cut into his thoughts. "Think I could draw it sometime?"
Yeonjun blinked at him, confused at the unexpected question. "Yeah, sure. You can come by anytime."
The boy didn't look like the type to know the name of flowers. Let alone want to draw them. Yeonjun was definitely judging him too much on the way he looked. His dark hair, dark clothing, the earring that hung from his ear.
(If only Yeonjun knew what he looked like now. How they both have changed.)
The boy started walking back towards the door. Yeonjun quickly stopped him, reaching out a hand, "Hey, wait!"
The boy turned, a question on his face.
"I never got your name," Yeonjun said, putting his hand down.
"Choi Beomgyu." He said, walking out the door.
⚘
The sound of the engine cutting fills the night air as Yeonjun steps off of his motorbike and onto the empty sidewalk. The street is empty, it’s quiet where they live. When Beomgyu had graduated, they had agreed to move in with each other. It felt right, it meant they could be with each other more.
Apartments were too expensive in the city, even with them working full time and splitting rent, it would have barely been enough for them to cover their groceries.
Yeonjun notices a familiar car parked a few spots down the street, a pink “Bitch Mobile” bumper sticker is slapped onto the back window. Beomgyu’s home.
Together, they had found an apartment that sat twenty minutes away from the city. It’s in a quiet neighborhood, there are a few small families, their landlord often has his grandkids over. They like to look at Yeonjun’s motorcycle.
Yeonjun unclasps the buckle around his chin, letting the helmet fall into his hand. He grabs the plastic bag that sits in the compartment at the back of his bike, the smell of chicken flying out. Yeonjun feels his stomach grumble.
He carries himself up the stairs, switching the plastic bag and helmet to one hand as he reaches in to take out his keys. While he’s fumbling for the right one, there’s a soft buzz that comes from the door. He drops the keys back into his pocket and pushes the door open.
A messy haired Beomgyu stands at the top of the entrance’s staircase, he’s wearing shorts and a large sweatshirt over. It’s one of the many things that once belonged in Yeonjun’s part of the closet but had mysteriously made its way over to Beomgyu’s.
“I heard you pull in.” Beomgyu says, waiting at the top of the steps and taking Yeonjun’s helmet from his hands. He sets it down on the kitchen counter.
Yeonjun closes the door behind him, walking over to the kitchen table, setting the bag full of fried chicken down on the table. When he turns, Beomgyu is standing behind him, expectantly.
Yeonjun opens his arms, taking Beomgyu into them. He feels Beomgyu’s arms snake around and hold him tight. “Welcome home,” Beomgyu says, peeling himself off of Yeonjun and pressing a kiss to Yeonjun’s lips.
Yeon can’t help but smile, this feeling—coming home at the end of the day and seeing Beomgyu waiting for him—it’s his favorite part of the day. Going home.
“I got us chicken,” Yeonjun points to the table.
“Go shower and change first, we can eat after.” Beomgyu says, pushing Yeonjun towards the hallway. Yeonjun turns his head over, to look at Beomgyu as he walks away. He’s going through the cupboards and taking out plates, setting the table. It’s only when he sees him turn back around from the table that Yeonjun goes into the washroom.
When Yeonjun comes back, in his own form of loungewear, Beomgyu is sitting on the couch, one leg up and the other hanging down from the edge. The tv is playing some infomercial, the ones about the Dyson vacuum cleaner.
Yeonjun walks over to the couch, plopping himself down in the space between Beomgyu’s legs, his head resting on a spot below his chest.
“You’re not going to eat if you lay down, you’ll get sleepy and then I’ll have to drag you to bed.” He hears Beomgyu whine.
Yeonjun whines back, turning over and wrapping his arms around Beomgyu’s waist and holding him close. Beomgyu’s other leg drops itself down. Yeonjun feels his fingers on his face, touching his cheek.
He knows Beomgyu is right. They had fallen asleep like this too many times. But Yeonjun wants to say it’s not his fault. On the small space the couch gives them, Beomgyu’s warmth so close, his smell on his own sweatshirt, Yeonjun’s smell was long gone. It really did belong to Beomgyu now. But then again, so did Yeonjun.
The sound of his stomach begging for chicken is what makes him sit up. He lets out a stretch and then pulls himself up and drags himself to the kitchen.
Beomgyu had finished setting the table, the chicken unboxed and placed in a large plate at the center of their small table. There’s two plates on either end, and two glasses, a bottle of white wine next to the kitchen.
Beomgyu takes his seat first, going for the bottle. “I’ve been doing some research, Hyung,” Beomgyu starts, uncorking the bottle and pouring the wine in their glasses.
Yeonjun whispers a soft thank you, making sure not to cut off the younger one as he speaks.
“Did you know wine can compliment the taste of food?” Beomgyu says, setting the bottle back down, “Like wine can be paired with food.”
Yeonjun shakes his head, taking a piece of chicken from the plate, “No. Well, I’ve heard about it but I don’t know much about it.” He glances at the white wine, sitting in his glass, “I’m guessing white wine is best for chicken?”
Beomgyu nods, grabbing his own piece, “Because white wine has a softer taste, it doesn’t cover up the taste of chicken.”
“What about red wine?” Yeonjun asks, chewing.
“Dunno, I only looked up what wine tastes good with fried chicken.”
Yeonjun laughs and Beomgyu joins in with him.
That’s how it usually is in their apartment. It’s rarely quiet. They could sit and talk for hours about anything.
It’s only when Beomgyu brings up the tattoo parlor that Yeonjun remembers his thoughts from earlier, during his lunch break.
“Oh, Beomgyu.”
Beomgyu makes a small humming noise, letting Yeonjun know he’s listening.
“What if I got a tattoo?”
Beomgyu coughs, and waits for himself to finish chewing before speaking. “Sorry,” he puts a hand out, “But I’ve offered so many times and now you want one?”
Yeonjun shrugs, “Yeah?”
Beomgyu looks around, thinking, “Will you let me do it?”
“I’m hoping you would do it.”
He was. It would only be complete to have Beomgyu do it too, if it was going to be for them.
He watches Beomgyu try to suppress a smile, a light red coming to his cheeks, “Yeah okay, I can do it.” Beomgyu sits back, trying to regain any cool he might’ve lost, “What were you thinking of getting done, anyways?”
Yeonjun shrugs again, “I haven’t thought that far yet. I guess I just wanted to know if you thought it was a good idea.”
Beomgyu smirks, “You wanted my opinion? You can do whatever you want, Hyung.”
Yeonjun nods, bringing himself back to his food.
He knows he wants something to represent his relationship with Beomgyu, something that captures the feeling in his chest when he looks at him. He just isn’t sure that there is such a thing that could explain exactly how he feels.
⚘
Yeonjun let out a heavy breath as he stood in front of the door. He shuffled side to side. He was nervous, how could he not be? He had been putting this off for weeks. He couldn’t keep hiding this from Beomgyu, he was running out of time.
Pulling a strand of overgrowing hair behind his ear, he brought a knuckle to the door. He gently tapped it twice, a muffled voice shortly followed. "It's open, hyung"
Yeonjun grabbed the cold doorknob, turned, and pushed.
The room was hazy, smoke hanging around in the air. Beomgyu had red lights around his bed, which filled the room red. He was sitting on his bed, cross-legged. He looked up, "Shit. Close the door before the smoke goes out." Yeonjun turned and shut it tight.
Beomgyu's hair was longer now, tied back, his front bangs hanging loose. He had two earrings in each of his lobes, the skin inside his ear was red and swollen. Beomgyu had gotten a new piercing.
"If you're gonna smoke, shouldn't you open a window?" Yeonjun dropped his bag to the ground and walked over to Beomgyu's bed. The other bed in the dorm was empty, Beomgyu didn't have someone to share the room with. Yeonjun took a seat next to him anyway.
Beomgyu ignored him, handing him the lit cigarette. Yeonjun took it and laid back onto the bed. He could hear the soft buzzing of the tattoo gun. Beomgyu was practicing again.
"Can't you use fake skin? Or like an apple?" He asked, taking a drag.
"Sure, but where's the fun in that?" Beomgyu glanced up at him, a tilted smile on his face.
Yeonjun exhaled, the smoke leaving his lips. He sat up and looked over at Beomgyu's thigh, beads of ink and blood mixing together. "What is it?"
Beomgyu looked back at his leg, "Pacman."
"Pacman?" He handed back the cigarette but Beomgyu just opened his mouth, an invitation to hold it for him. Yeonjun brought the stick forward and watched Beomgyu's plump lips wrap around it gently. Beomgyu pulled his mouth away. Yeonjun could see him holding it in his cheeks, he gently blew it out a few seconds later.
Beomgyu just nodded and continued to work. Yeonjun sighed, it wasn't the right time yet.
Yeonjun stood up, opening the window at the back of the room. A dark red flower caught his attention. "Oh, it's doing well."
Beomgyu didn't turn his attention away from his leg, "What is?"
"Your amaranth," he brought a hand to the petals, touching them gently.
"Of course, hyung. You gave it to me for my birthday,"
Yeonjun shrugged, "I guess. I didn't really think it would last long."
"Why not?" Beomgyu’s voice was distant, he was clearly focusing on something else. But Yeonjun knew not to take it to heart, he knew he was lucky just to be getting an answer.
Beomgyu didn’t talk to people he didn’t want to talk to.
Yeonjun let go of the flower, he watched Beomgyu. He watched as he was bent over his leg, chewing his bottom lip, hair falling in his face, piercings glistening in the dim lighting of the room.
Yeonjun didn't think Beomgyu would have remembered to water the plant, or to re-pot it as it grew. He didn't think Beomgyu would care enough to. "You don't seem like the flower type."
“And you called it ugly when I gave it to you.” Yeonjun chose to add on after.
Beomgyu stopped what he was doing and looked over at him, "Like I said, you gave it to me." Beomgyu continued to watch him, the silence in the room was heavy and unsettling.
Beomgyu broke it first.
"Hyung, pass me the bottle and wrapping."
Yeonjun grabbed it off of the desk and brought it over, laying back down on the bed. He watched him.
Beomgyu drizzled some of the serum on his leg, then ripped a piece of the wrapping, sticking it on with tape. It was an amateur job, but that's what Beomgyu was at the time. An amateur.
"Are you staying tonight?" Beomgyu turned to him, pulling the elastic out of his hair.
Yeonjun watched his hair cup his face and he looked away, "Can I?"
He felt Beomgyu's weight lift up off the bed, "sure."
The sound of drawers opening and closing caught Yeonjun's attention. He was staring at the wall. The sounds told him that Beomgyu was taking out his clothing. The sound of chains hitting wood told him that Beomgyu was taking off his jewelry. And the sound of fabric told him that Beomgyu was undressed behind him.
He felt Beomgyu climb back into the bed, he felt a soft poke on his back. He turned, his face inches from Beomgyu's, "do you want to change?"
Yeonjun shook his head, Beomgyu's skin was glowing in the dim red light of the room. It looked soft. His eyes traced his shoulder, the head of a dragon poking over, bringing itself down to his collarbone.
Yeonjun couldn't help but touch it. He had seen it plenty of times, he was even there when he had gotten it done. He traced his fingers along the thin lines of the dragon's silhouette. He felt Beomgyu's eyes on him, he looked up to meet them.
Beomgyu licked his lips, a thin sheet covering them, the light reflecting off of it. They were so close, and Beomgyu's skin was so warm. He could feel Beomgyu's breath on his face. His heartbeat fast, his eyes falling on Beomgyu's lips. His lips looked so soft that Yeonjun couldn't help but want to know if it was true.
The bed creaked as Beomgyu moved an inch closer and Yeonjun pulled his hand away, retracting into himself.
He couldn't. He didn't want to let this be something he'd one day regret.
It wasn’t the time.
"Hyung?" Beomgyu whispered the question.
"I'm dropping out, Beomgyu." Yeonjun blurted, "Of university."
⚘
Yeonjun stands at the back corner of the store, a clipboard in hand. He points his pen towards the bouquets of red roses, counting all of them and writing a number down onto his paper, then he moves on to the white roses. He had been doing this all day, and he’d probably be doing it till later tonight. It was at the end of every month that Yeonjun had to stay late and do inventory.
He’s had thoughts racing through his head since he stepped foot into the flower shop this morning. Going over different designs of what he could get permanently inked into his skin.
Yeonjun has at least some common sense and Beomgyu’s name was definitely not something he was considering getting. He could stand behind Beomgyu on the fact that getting someone’s name on your body is a bad idea.
But Yeonjun’s fears lie more with what Beomgyu would say when he learned it was for him. The worst thing Yeonjun can imagine is a snarky remark and a little bit of teasing.
But Beomgyu had said it himself, Yeonjun could do whatever he wanted. And this is what he wants.
Yeonjun sighs when he hears the door opening.
“Welcome!” He turns and sees a familiar old lady, standing by the door. A large bag in her hand.
In the same breath, Yeonjun sets his clipboard and pen down somewhere, rushing over and helping her find a seat, “Halmeonnie” he says taking the bag away from her and setting it down, “You should have called.”
Swatting him away, she moves towards her bag, pulling out a large container, smaller ones piled on top of it. Yeonjun steps back to give her room, she was always a tough spirit, even when he had just started working at the shop, those years ago. “You need a good meal for inventory.”
Pulling out chopsticks, she sets the bag on the floor and turns around, “Where’s your companion?” She looks at Yeonjun again, “The little one,” She swats at him again, “You know the one who looks like a gangster.”
Yeonjun lets out a soft laugh, his chest filling with warmth at the mention of his boyfriend “Beomgyu’s at work. He’ll stop by later. Will you stay to see him, Halmeonnie?”
“Yeonjunnie, make sure to take some of this home, you look thin.” She shoves chopsticks into his hand, not answering his question.
“Now tell me,” she says, opening the containers, the smell of homemade food, filling Yeonjun’s nose, leaving his mouth watering. “How’s my shop doing? Are you taking good care of it?” She looks at him, placing a variation of foods in a bowl for him.
“The shop’s doing good, our sales are better than usual.” Yeonjun waits for her to take her first bite before eating, but she doesn’t so he lets himself indulge in the home cooked meal.
“I’m glad I have you. I should come by more often.” She looks around the room, reminiscing of her past. Yeonjun wonders if she’s alone in that memory, or if she’s with someone too.
The sound of the shop door opening calls their attention back, Yeonjun turns to see who it is, but the person is quicker to speak. “Halmeonnie!” Beomgyu’s familiar voice rings throughout the room.
Beomgyu’s lifting his arms up, his car keys still in hand, jingling as he waves.
“Good, you’re here.” She sighs when Beomgyu gets closer, “Oh my, and you look thinner than Yeonjunnie…” She packs food into a bowl for Beomgyu.
Yeonjun stands to get a chair but Beomgyu shakes his head and stands next to him, wrapping his around his shoulders, his chin resting atop of Yeonjun’s head.
“How have you been, Halmeonnie? Are you taking care of yourself? Don’t worry about us.” Yeonjun watches Beomgyu’s arms go for the food, despite the words coming out of his mouth.
Yeonjun goes to grab a bite of his food but Beomgyu scooches his arm over, squeezing in front of him and the counter to grab a seat on his lap. Yeonjun moves his arm out of the way leaning to one side, pulling his bowl back to infront of him.
“I offered to grab you a chair,” he mumbles.
Beomgyu turns to face him with a smile, patting his head, “And it looks like I found myself one anyways.”
Yeonjun sighs but still snakes an arm around Beomgyu’s waist making sure he doesn’t fall over, and grabbing his bowl to continue eating.
The elder gives them both a smile, watching them eat, “I’m doing well, lonely in my old days but I was just telling Yeonjunnie I’ll be having to visit more often.”
“I hope you do. We both miss you.”
Beomgyu and the shop owner always got along, since the first time they met. Beomgyu would come spend time after classes and do his homework while Yeonjun worked, she never minded the extra company. Her husband had passed away the year Yeonjun had started working, it was the reason she was looking for the extra help.
“Do you miss me or my food?” She says going over to pinch Beomgyu.
“Halmeonnie” Beomgyu whines, shrinking into Yeonjun.
Yeonjun laughs at Beomgyu’s quick surrender, setting his empty bowl on the counter and holding him close, resting his head against Beomgyu’s side.
Beomgyu wraps his own arms back around Yeonjun, “She pinched me.”
Yeonjun nods, “I know, I saw, how mean.” He gives in to Beomgyu’s pouts, his childish ways that he never did grow out of.
It was too hard to withhold himself from Beomgyu, he had tried too many times and it only ever got him falling deeper and deeper into Beomgyu’s clutches. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it. He loved being like this—to Beomgyu, only ever to Beomgyu.
“I think this is what I miss the most,” the shop owner’s voice breaks their attention away from each other and brings them to look at her.
“What is?” Yeonjun asks.
“Watching love.”
Yeonjun wonders if she misses it, being in love. But it feels like a stupid question. Of course she does, because Yeonjun would miss it if he were in her place, he would miss the way Beomgyu makes him feel. There’s no one else that can make him feel quite like this, like he’s needed, and wanted all at once.
“That’s why you have to take good care of it when I’m not here, Yeonjun. You need to make sure it’s still here to experience love.”
Beomgyu’s hand makes its way to Yeonjun’s hair, gently ruffling it. There’s a sudden weight in the air, making it heavy. Yeonjun can feel it pressing down on his shoulders.
“Halmeonnie, why did you open a flower shop?” Beomgyu asks, playing with Yeonjun’s hair, absentmindedly.
“It’s where I met my husband.”
“Were you just hanging around a flower shop?” Beomgyu asks, his tone a little too obvious on his confusion. Yeonjun elbows him in the side, causing Beomgyu to hit him.
She lets out a laugh, it’s quiet, tired.
“No, I had to do a project on flowers. So I went to the shop to ask about them. And he was an artist.”
“He told me about the flowers, their parts, their meanings. How they look different each season, each month.”
“And you fell in love?” Beomgyu asks again.
The story sounds a little familiar to Yeonjun.
“Didn’t you?”
Yeonjun turns his head to Beomgyu, who’s looking back at him.
“But it wasn’t because of flowers.” He looks back to the halmeonnie.
“Of course not, it’s never about the flowers. It’s about what they mean to us.” She crosses her legs, “They are our voices when we don’t have the courage to speak.”
Yeonjun smiles, a memory resurfacing. The weight on his leg disappears and Beomgyu slips off, standing. He looks at the shop owner and smiles, “Thank you for lunch, and sharing your story. I have to get back to work, I have an appointment.” He waves.
But he doesn’t leave before dipping down and pressing a kiss to Yeonjun’s lips.
“I’ll see you tonight,” Yeonjun says, pulling away from the kiss.
“Tonight.”
It’s dark when Yeonjun gets home, there’s no one to open the door for him. And he walks up the stairs with no one to greet him.
When he enters the apartment, Yeonjun quietly walks around, gently dropping his helmet onto the table. The lights are off, and it’s hard to see. He’s careful not to walk into anything.
“Yeonjunnie hyung?” there’s a soft whisper in the room. “Hyung, I’m awake.”
If Beomgyu is awake, it hasn’t been for long. There’s sleep in his voice, and he doesn’t make a move to sit up. But Yeonjun walks towards the couch anyway.
Beomgyu’s laying on the couch in his pyjamas, his hair sticking to his skin, wet from a shower he must’ve taken.
“I’m sorry I’m home late,” Yeonjun whispers over the back of the couch, looking down at his drowsy boyfriend.
Beomgyu just shakes his head, spreading his arms out, inviting him in.
Yeonjun reaches a hand down, grabbing his hand, rubbing his fingers against Beomgyu’s palm, “I’m gonna go change first.”
He makes sure to hurry and not keep Beomgyu waiting more. He’s quick to toss off his shirt and kick off his pants. He didn’t bother slipping on a shirt.
It was hard when one of them finished hours before the other or late into the night. They’d have to fight sleep, waiting to see each other. Yeonjun remembers the last time he fell asleep waiting for Beomgyu, he had left the lights on thinking it would help him stay awake.
When Yeonjun steps back into the living room, Beomgyu’s still awake. The white of his eyes shimmer in the trickling moonlight.
Yeonjun lets himself climb onto the couch and slip over onto Beomgyu, resting his head on his shoulder, and letting their chest fall against each other. He can feel Beomgyu’s warm arms wrap around him in a tight hug.
“I missed you,” Beomgyu says first, his hands moving against Yeonjun’s own bare skin.
Yeonjun presses soft kisses against his neck, his jaw, he feels the wet strands of hair touch his cheeks, itching him. He missed him too, he can feel it in his muscles, his body aches to feel him again. To know that Beomgyu is by his side, it's like something is missing when he’s away from him.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” Yeonjun whispers again, against his skin.
But Beomgyu has the same reaction as before, he just shakes his head and holds him tighter. “You’re here now,”
Yeonjun slowly brings his lips to Beomgyu's, kissing him softly, letting their mouths slide against each other, lazily.
How bad he is with words, even now, he can’t seem to find the words to describe to Beomgyu how he feels. The only word he can think of is sorry. When really all he wants to do is tell Beomgyu how much his soul hurts to be away, how it wants to cling to him forever.
And if not forever in this lifetime, than in another.
“What do you think of what Halmeonnie said?” Yeonjun whispers, moving his head back down.
Beomgyu sighs, moving on the couch, trying to get more comfortable. “I think she’s old, and lonely, and misses her husband.” He looks back at him.
“Don’t you think she’s right about flowers?”
Beomgyu nods slowly, he’s tired. “Flowers are perfect for humans because they are like us, we grow and we die.”
“That’s really dark, Beomgyu.”
“Hyung, everything comes to an end. It’s best to enjoy it while it’s in full bloom.”
“Even us?” Yeonjun dares to ask.
“I’ll love you till my last breath, that’s all I have the power to do.” He’s looking him in the eyes.
“Not me.” Yeonjun shakes his head,
“I will love you even after that, I will love you in the dirt I lie in.”
Where the flowers will wilt and lie with him, because Beomgyu is right.
Flowers are like humans. They live and they die.
But humans love, and love is everlasting.
⚘
Beomgyu was the one who drove.
As they sat in his 2015 Chevrolet staring at the large, red carpeted restaurant, staring into the large glass walls, that’s all Yeonjun could think about. How Beomgyu drove.
Maybe it was to help calm him down. His hands sat in between his thighs as he thought back to the streetlights passing over Beomgyu as he laughed as he spoke.
Neither of them were laughing now.
They both stared into the restaurant, scared to make the first move to go in.
Beomgyu was in his finest suit, which didn’t say a lot but it didn’t say much for Yeonjun either. This wasn’t their scene.
Beomgyu’s hair was tied back, something he never did so Yeonjun knew it was an attempt to look more put together than if it were loose. It exposed the tattoo at the bottom of his ear and the piercings that hung on either side of them.
Yeonjun’s own pink hair was left down, whether he tied it or not the sharp color would catch wandering eyes.
This was a date.
Yeonjun’s eyes shifted to Beomgyu whose eyes never left the shining glass doors, a couple stumbled out, dressed in dazzling clothing. They got into their fancy car and he saw Beomgyu take a breath.
Their first date.
They wanted it to be perfect.
They had settled on dinner and a movie. Although, they usually spent their time at Beomgyu’s dorm or at Yeonjun’s new apartment. They wanted this to be different, and special.
So Yeonjun knew how badly Beomgyu wanted to go in there, but he also knew how hard it was to put yourself in a room where you clearly wouldn’t fit in.
“We don’t have to go in there you know,” Yeonjun leaned over to Beomgyu’s side, placing his chin on Beomgyu’s shoulder.
Beomgyu glanced over at him, letting out a breath. Yeonjun could see the relief washing over him.
“We could find somewhere else to eat. Somewhere more comfortable.”
“But we said-”
“We said we wanted this to go perfectly right? As long as we’re having fun together, that’s perfect enough for me.”
Beomgyu turned to look at Yeonjun properly, Yeonjun’s chin slipping off his shoulder. “Hyung, you mean it?”
Yeonjun gave a little nod, looking at Beomgyu’s face, the small pout on his lips, the slight reddening of his cheeks and his ears. He was beautiful, and Yeonjun wanted to kiss him.
But not yet, Yeonjun told himself. He had waited so long, what was a few more hours.
Yeonjun watched Beomgyu take off his seatbelt and slip out of the car.
Yeonjun let out a breath before following him out. Everything felt so much heavier now that they were on a date.
In truth, nothing had really changed. Not between them.
It had slipped out so easily the question that it didn’t even seem all that shocking when Beomgyu had agreed.
It was only now that they were on that Yeonjun could feel the weight of it. How every touch, every word had a different meaning to it.
Beomgyu was leaning against the hood of his car, lighting a cigarette, when Yeonjun met him on the other end, “This way or that way?” Beomgyu pointed, holding the stick in between his teeth, dropping the lighter back in his pocket.
Yeonjun brought an arm over his shoulder, taking the cigarette from Beomgyu’s mouth and placing it in his own, starting to lead him in a direction. “This way.”
He looked to Beomgyu who was giving him a look back, going to grab the cigarette after Yeonjun took his hit. Yeonjun blew the air into the night sky, looking at the buildings around.
“You know, Hyung, ever since you left, school kind of sucks.”
“School already sucked.” Yeonjun said, taking the cigarette back for his turn.
“Yeah, but I didn’t realize how much worse it was when I didn’t have you.”
Beomgyu had a way of speaking that made Yeonjun sometimes want to cry.
“We didn’t take any classes together.”
Beomgyu shook his head, “I have a roommate now. I tried to pay him to switch rooms and he wouldn’t.”
“That must’ve pissed you off.” Yeonjun let Beomgyu have the last of the cigarette.
“He doesn’t let me smoke in there, and the sound of my tattoo gun bothers him.” Beomgyu looked at his feet as they walked.
Yeonjun didn’t say anything to that, it sounded to him like he wasn’t letting Beomgyu be Beomgyu.
“I never realized how those things could seem annoying to others.” Beomgyu looked at Yeonjun again, “It never seemed to bother you.”
Yeonjun shrugged, “It didn’t.”
(It still didn’t. Yeonjun loved the feeling of coming home after work and hearing the soft sound of the gun coming from somewhere in the apartment.)
Beomgyu smiled and jumped into Yeonjun’s side, “I’m so lucky to have a hyung like you!”
Yeonjun felt his weight tip him over to the side, catching himself on his feet. He let out a soft laugh.
His heart was fluttering in his chest.
The two of them sat in a convenience store, at the bar by the window. They watched as people walked by. Yeonjun stirred the red noodles in his cup, watching the sauce spread all over, coating them the way he liked.
Beomgyu sat next to him doing the same, “Hyung, how’s the new job?”
Yeonjun glanced over at Beomgyu then back at his food, “Good. The owner’s nice, but she’s old.”
Beomgyu laughed, “Maybe if you’re nice enough she’ll put you in her will.”
Yeonjun flicked an arm over, landing a light slap on his arm, “I’m planning on buying it from her when she chooses to retire.” When Beomgyu didn't answer Yeonjun glanced over, he was giving him a look that said he knew that wasn’t the whole story.
Yeonjun sighed, giving in. “If she doesn’t put me in her will.”
Beomgyu went back to his food, “There it is.” He took a bite and spoke as he chewed, “What’s the name again?”
“Two lips in bloom.”
Beomgyu nodded, “Right. The pun thing.”
Yeonjun’s lips fell into a small smile, “Right. The pun thing.”
Beomgyu stirred his food again, “I really hope your dreams come true, hyung.”
Yeonjun felt his chest tighten, ah there it was again, the urge to kiss him. Yeonjun thought that that’s what kissing was, the ability to tell someone how they make you feel when the words just didn’t exist. Maybe there really were no words to describe the feeling Yeonjun had in his chest.
But it didn’t feel right to kiss him now, overdressed in the convenience store.
Beomgyu looked at Yeonjun again, “Oh, hyung.” Yeonjun gave his attention to Beomgyu, “Come here you have something.” Beomgyu motioned for him to come closer.
Yeonjun leaned over, licking the side of his mouth, hoping to get it.
He caught Beomgyu’s smirk, as he tried to hold back a laugh and Yeonjun knew he had fallen right into Beomgyu’s trap.
His neck started to ache as Beomgyu tugged on the tie that hung from his neck, bringing their faces closer than Yeonjun would’ve allowed himself to go. He gave him one of his smiles, the ones he’d put on when he knew he was doing something daring. A corner of his mouth higher than the other, showing some of his teeth. Beomgyu let their lips brush and Yeonjun watched as Beomgyu’s eyes moved to his lips and then back up to meet Yeonjun’s following eyes.
“Hyung,” Beomgyu spoke again, slightly muffled as his lips moved against Yeonjun’s, he was whispering. Yeonjun wondered if it was because he was teasing or if it was because he didn’t want to get the cashier to hear. “Do you want me to get it for you?”
Yes. Yeonjun wanted to say. He almost wanted to beg. But he knew that whatever answer he gave Beomgyu would end up mocking him for it.
So instead, Yeonjun brought a hand up to Beomgyu’s cheek, bringing his lips to Beomgyu’s without an answer. They were soft, and Yeonjun could taste the jajangmyeon he had been eating just moments before. He felt Beomgyu’s grip on his tie loosen and his hands move towards his neck, his arms wrapping around. He heard the screech of Beomgyu’s chair as he stood, bringing himself in between Yeonjun’s legs to get himself closer. Yeonjun had to inch his head upwards, now that Beomgyu was standing. He brought an arm around Beomgyu’s waist pulling him closer against him, and he couldn’t help but smile back as he felt Beomgyu’s own kisses turn sloppy as he started to grin.
The sound of a broom falling to the floor made them push away from each other and pulled them back into the reality of where they were. A convenience store.
“Sorry.” The worker said, picking up the broom from the floor.
Yeonjun turned back to look at Beomgyu whose cheeks were a bright red. It brought a grin to Yeonjun’s face.
“Next time,” Yeonjun said, a sudden wave of confidence coming from Beomgyu’s embarrassed state, “Don’t try and find an excuse to kiss me.”
Yeonjun turned back to his noodles, slurping the rest. Yeonjun noticed that they were cold and wondered how long they truly had spent away from their food.
The dinging of the bell sounded into the night air as they walked out of the convenience store, melona bars in hand. Yeonjun heard the crumpling of the wrapper as Beomgyu opened his, he immediately brought it to Yeonjun, for him to have a bite.
Yeonjun took a small bite from the top, letting the honey flavor sit on his tongue. It was sweet.
“Hyung, I forgot to show you.” Beomgyu said, pulling out his phone from his pocket.
Yeonjun unwrapped his bar as he waited for Beomgyu to show him his phone.
Beomgyu gave Yeonjun his phone. It was a drawing of a field, purple, yellow, and pink flowers, small trees stood at the back and on the sidelines. Yeonjun took in the colors melting together, “It’s beautiful.”
“It’s for my landscape class. They’re-”
“-Larkspurs.” They said together and Yeonjun couldn’t help but smile at Beomgyu’s face, it was written all over it that he knew Yeonjun was going to answer.
“They reminded me of you.” Beomgyu said, taking back his phone.
“Of me?” Yeonjun stopped and Beomgyu hummed in response, reaching over and taking a bite out of his strawberry melona bar.
“I like mine better.” Beomgyu mumbled, licking his lips and biting into his own ice cream. He wrapped one of his arms around Yeonjun's, bringing them closer.
They were back in Beomgyu’s car again, driving down the busy streets. It was ten in the evening and yet the red of cars parking were flashing brightly in their faces every few seconds. The radio on, turned low, Yeonjun watched as people walked down the busy streets, bars and clubs only now coming to life.
Yeonjun turned to Beomgyu, who drove with one leg propped up on his seat, only one hand on the steering wheel. He had taken off the blazer of his suit, deeming it too uncomfortable. He had thrown it to the backseat where it now hung lazily from the seat and pooled to the floor.
Yeonjun turned his attention to Beomgyu, “Your landscape piece,” Yeonjun asked, his mind rolling over the words Beomgyu had said, they reminded me of you. “What did you mean, when you said the larkspur reminded you of me?”
He watched a smile sprout over Beomgyu’s lips, “ Did you know flowers have meaning?”
After a few seconds of silence Beomgyu spoke again, “Of course you do. That’s why you gave me the amaranth.”
Yeonjun looked away from Beomgyu, who turned back to look in front of him, turning down the street where the theatre sat.
Yeonjun felt his ears grow hot with embarrassment. He didn’t think Beomgyu would ever look into the meaning of flowers, he thought he had played it safe. How foolish he had been, maybe he didn’t know Beomgyu at all.
“Did you mean it, Hyung?” Beomgyu asked, putting the car into park on a small street, next to the theatre. He was whispering, just a little louder than the music coming from the car speaker.
And Yeonjun felt his heart beating in his chest, roughly against its walls. Yeonjun never thought he’d have to admit such a thing. He felt exposed, like he was standing in the street naked—no, this was worse than that.
It was opening his chest and letting Beomgyu take a look and see.
He turned to look at Beomgyu, “Of course I did.”
(He still does)
Beomgyu’s eyes met his, they didn’t leave his hand traced along the seatbelt, finding its way to the buckle, pressing down, the soft sound filling the car and Beomgyu brought himself over, placing himself on Yeonjun’s lap, ejecting his seatbelt from the buckle and moving it away from Yeonjun.
Yeonjun didn’t know what Beomgyu was doing, and he couldn’t find the words to ask. They were lost somewhere in letting his arms move around Beomgyu’s waist, pulling him close and making sure he wouldn’t fall.
Beomgyu brought his face closer, bending, there was a hint of a smile on his lips. “Do you know what a larkspur means?” he whispered again, quieter than before, as if he didn’t want anyone else to hear. Even if they were alone in his car.
Yeonjun did know. It was why he was confused in the first place. It sounded nothing like him. He gently nodded, a soft dip of his head, “Tell me anyways.”
Yeonjun felt Beomgyu’s lips touch his jaw, placing a soft kiss, “it means sweetness,” his voice came out hushed as he spoke against his skin. It was like honey, soothing. Yeonjun moved his head back against the seat of the car. He felt Beomgyu’s lips move to the space underneath his ear, “And laughter,” he pressed another kiss on Yeonjun’s neck. They were so soft, they almost tickled.
Yeonjun’s lips dipped at the word laughter, “But you’re the one that laughs the most between the two of us.”
Beomgyu stopped, pulling away and slapping Yeonjun rough against his chest, causing him to cave in and let out a soft sound of pain, “I’m trying to be romantic.” Beomgyu scowled, although it looked more like a pout.
“Ow. Okay, continue, continue.” Yeonjun said, bringing a hand to Beomgyu’s face, trying to rub out the lines of his frowning.
Beomgyu crossed his arms against his chest, “You know, it can be the cause of laughter too.” He huffs, trying to explain himself. “No one said it had to be just laughing.” And Yeonjun nodded, slowly uncrossing Beomgyu’s arms.
“How mean of you.” the anger in Beomgyu’s voice faltered, turning gentle again. “No one makes me laugh like you do.”
Yeonjun thought of all the times he'd heard Beomgyu laugh. It never occurred to him that it wasn’t just a part of Beomgyu, the laughter. He never knew that in every laugh he’d heard come from Beomgyu, there was a little part of him that came with it.
Beomgyu’s voice went quiet again, a whisper, as if what he was about to say was a secret, he was hiding it. “You’re my laughter.”
Yeonjun didn’t move his eyes away from Beomgyu’s, whose own eyes looked like they were searching for something in Yeonjun’s.
Yeonjun moved his hands back around Beomgyu’s eyes, he brought his hands underneath his white dress shirt, gently untucking it from his pants. Yeonjun wasn’t good with words, he didn’t know how to say the things he so desperately wanted Beomgyu to hear.
But even in his silence, Beomgyu leaned himself forward, bringing a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him close and pressing his lips to Yeonjun’s, kissing him softly.
Yeonjun could taste the sweet juice of the melona bar on his lips. Things always seemed to taste better when they were coming from Beomgyu’s mouth, even the jajangmyeon from earlier had tasted like it was a fine dish, and not one out of a paper cup from the convenience store shelf.
Beomgyu pulled away, catching his breath, “And no one loves me like you do.”
(not a soul, Beomgyu had added on months later, one night in Yeonjun’s bedroom.)
Yeonjun wasn’t good with words, he could never find the right things to say, or say the things he so desperately wished he could express.
But he never had to, Yeonjun never had to say the words because Beomgyu had already heard them.
Yeonjun brought a hand to the back of Beomgyu’s head, gently pulling the small elastic band out of Beomgyu’s hair, moving his hands slowly, making sure not to pull too hard. He watched as Beomgyu’s hair slowly fell, falling to his cheeks and his shoulders, cupping his face.
Beomgyu looked unreal in the glowing light of the streets. The shadows and the light, highlighting his thick lips and pointed nose. Yeonjun brought his lips down to Beomgyu’s neck, listening to the soft sounds that escaped his lips. He left little bites as his kisses travelled, Beomgyu’s own hands making their way to Yeonjun’s pants which had him stopping what he was doing.
“Beomgyu…” It was the only word that Yeonjun’s brain could find, the only ones his lips were willing to form.
“Don’t worry, my windows are tinted.”
Dinner and a movie.
Yeonjun’s hands gripped Beomgyu’s back a little tighter, comforted by the warmth of his skin. Beomgyu’s own hands still working away and Yeonjun’s belt.
Yeonjun was struggling to keep up, just a few minutes ago he was getting hit and now he doesn’t even know where they’re at.
When he got it free, pulling it out of the belt loops and tossing it towards the driver's seat. He even pulled the lever, causing the seat to fall back at a deeper angle, and give Beomgyu more room.
Yeonjun’s voice found itself again, “Beomgyu, wait.”
Beomgyu looked at him, his movement stopping. He brought his hands to Yeonjun’s cheeks, holding them in his hands.
“What if you regret this?”
Yeonjun searched Beomgyu’s face for a reaction, for any sign of him turning back on his actions. But the only thing Beomgyu did was shake his head, and rub a thumb gently over Yeonjun’s cheek, and whisper, “Not with you, Hyung. Never with you.”
Dinner and a movie. That is what they had decided.
But with the loud panting, and the windows of the car filling up with fog, and Yeonjun’s hands on Beomgyu’s hips whose chin sat tilted over Yeonjun’s shoulder, nails in his skin, hair stuck to skin with sweat, messy, and tousled, clothing left on the other seat, and the soft whines of,
“Hyung...Hyung...Hyung..”
It was clear that this was far from what they had planned.
⚘
“We’re not using the good stuff, right Hyung?” Beomgyu asks, looking at the liquor cabinet, “We’re saving that for us?”
Yeonjun turns from where he’s taking out packs of ramyeon, “What are they bringing?”
“Soobin hyung said they’re bringing meat to grill and dessert,” Beomgyu turns to look back at him.
Yeonjun sighs, “Take out soju, we already have beer in the fridge.” He turns back to his pot, opening the packages.
“Hyung, why do they always come over to our place? Why don’t we go to theirs? Soobin hyung always gets trashed on nothing and passes out on the couch, and Taehyunnie doesn’t drive when he drinks.”
“It would be nice to be on their couch for once instead of them on ours,” Yeonjun agrees, letting the packaged noodles boil. “I’m gonna go look for the small grill and the extension cord.” He pats his hands on his pants, wiping the residue from the noodles.
“It should be in the shoe closet!” Beomgyu shouts. Yeonjun can hear him opening the fridge, the sound of the glass soju bottle hitting the platform as he misses.
Yeonjun pulls open the shoe closet, his eyes scanning the shelves. He looks through some bags filled with stuff they never bothered to take out when they moved in. He spots the lining of the grill in one of the bags and pulls it out, he finds the extension cord inside and brings it to their small dining table.
Beomgyu’s draining the noodles when he gets back to the kitchen, adding his own flavour to them. He had learned it from Yeonjun in college.
Yeonjun used to make it when he’d stay up late doing assignments, Soobin couldn’t sleep with Yeonjun’s light on so he had spent most of his time in Beomgyu’s room, who didn’t mind the soft noise of Yeonjun’s scribbling and who didn’t sleep during the hours of the night.
In many ways, it was thanks to Soobin, that they were given the opportunity to fall in love.
The door buzzes and Yeonjun leaves the tangled cord knotted, going to let up their friends.
Soobin is carrying a bag in one hand, Taehyun behind him holding another. “Traffic is so bad in the city,” Soobin sighs, climbing up the stairs and pushing the bag into Yeonjun’s hand, walking over to the kitchen to bother Beomgyu. Taehyun whispers a soft apology, taking the bag back from Yeonjun and setting it on the table.
“Taehyun-ah can you help me untangle the extension cord?” Yeonjun asks the younger boy, who nods and starts getting to work.
Yeonjun starts unpacking the bags, one strictly filled with different kinds of desserts, ice cream and cakes. “Oh, this looks good. I’m going to put them in the freezer,” Taehyun nods and Yeonjun goes to the kitchen.
When he steps in, he sees Beomgyu wrestling Soobin, holding a wooden spoon in his hand,
“Hyung! Stop eating the food!” Beomgyu says through gritted teeth, trying to hold the spoon away from him, but losing at the height Soobin has on him.
“I’m just tasting it,” Soobin mutters back, Beomgyu’s hand pushing against his face.
“It doesn’t take four bites to see if something tastes good!” Beomgyu jumps up and grabs the spoon, holding it against his chest and turning so Soobin can’t reach it.
Yeonjun steps around them, making the educated decision not to get involved, and places the food in the freezer where they belong.
“Yeonjun hyung I-” Taehyun’s voice comes into the kitchen, quickly stopping when he watches his boyfriend grab onto Beomgyu’s hair, yanking it.
Beomgyu shouts in pain and Taehyun looks over at Yeonjun, “They haven’t even drunk anything yet.”
Yeonjun shakes his head, “I’m not getting in the middle of that,” he turns to Taehyun, “What were you trying to tell me?”
“I untangled the cord, and plugged it in, should we make the meat now or after?”
At the word meat the two boys let go of each other, Soobin’s arm in Beomgyu’s mouth.
“Now.” They both say together and smile at their shared thought.
“Beomgyu, you have the best ideas.”
“I learned it from you, Hyung.” Beomgyu pokes Soobin, the two of them walking to the table together, the once sought after wooden spoon left on the counter, forgotten.
They were sitting around their coffee table in the living room. Soobin and Taehyun leaning back against the couch, cans of beer opened and half a bottle of soju empty. This was a classic Saturday evening for the four.
“Why can’t we go on normal double dates?” Beomgyu asks, cheeks flushed.
“Where’s the fun in that?” Soobin slurs his words, they were dripping in alcohol.
“I’m just saying, it could be nice. The four of us, at a restaurant, maybe do an escape room.” Beomgyu leans against Yeonjun, rubbing his cheek into his shoulder.
“If we’re doing an escape room, we have to do it drunk.”
“You guys couldn’t solve an escape room sober.” Taehyun adds into the conversation, taking a sip from his beer.
“It’s not about solving it, Taehyunnie.” Beomgyu says, pointing at him.
“It’s about the laughs.” Soobin finishes off, sounding like a cheesy home decoration.
Yeonjun laughs under his breath, listening to them both run their mouths.
Soobin slams his hand on the table, “Let’s do shots!”
“We’ve already done shots,” Taehyun slowly pushes his boyfriend’s hand off the table, holding it in his lap.
“Well, you’re not drunk enough,” Soobin announces. “Hyung, pour!”
Yeonjun doesn’t bother fighting him, they haven’t even finished the bottle he and Beomgyu had set out for them. Soobin was just a lightweight.
“Shots!” Beomgyu shouts from next to him, a little too excited.
He is also a lightweight.
Yeonjun pours them all a round of shots. They hit their shot glasses together, taking the liquid down with a quick gulp. The subtle sweet taste of soju slips down his throat.
Soobin and Beomgyu shout out after their shot.
“Did Yeonjunnie hyung tell you?” Beomgyu asks, leaning forward on the table, Yeonjun moves a plate away before Beomgyu can shove his elbow deep into cake. “Hyung wants me to give him a tattoo.”
Taehyun turns his attention away from Soobin and to Yeonjun, “Hyung, really?” His brows are raised in surprise.
Yeonjun nods, his cheeks turning red from the sudden attention, luckily he can blame it on the effects of alcohol.
Soobin leans forward to Yeonjun, cupping his mouth, as if whispering a secret, “Hyung, what did I tell you? Just because he puts out, doesn’t mean you have to do what he wants.”
Yeonjun kicks him from underneath the table, causing Soobin to recoil back in pain, grabbing his leg. He grabs Beomgyu close to him, proving him to be precious, “I asked him to do it.”
“Hyung, kicked me.” Soobin pouts to Taehyun, who looks him up and down.
“You deserved it. How dare you say that about their relationship!”
“Hey!” Soobin shouts, “I basically built this relationship, he was my roommate!”
Beomgyu peels himself off of Yeonjun, glaring at Soobin. He points to Taehyun, “And he was mine! I basically built yours!”
Soobin shakes his head at Beomgyu, “Nuh-uh, you tried to get rid of him.”
“Yeah! But he stayed because I’m so great and cool!”
“That is not why I stayed,” Taehyun cuts in, earning a joint Shut up! from Beomgyu and Soobin.
Yeonjun quietly sips on his beer watching this play out. This happened every week, Beomgyu and Soobin get drunk and fight about something stupid that they both forget about in a few minutes when something more interesting catches their attention.
“Hyung! Tell Beomgyu it’s thanks to me!” Soobin turns to Yeonjun, asking for his support.
“Hyung!” Beomgyu whines, pouting to him, his hair falling in front of his reddened cheeks.
“I fell in love with Beomgyu, because he’s Beomgyu.” Yeonjun admits, honestly.
Taehyun nods, and Soobin sighs, defeated. “Of course you’d take his side. He’s the one you’re sleeping with.”
This time Soobin earns a kick from all three of them.
Later in the evening, the bottle of soju empty, Soobin and Taehyun passed out on top of each other,
Beomgyu and Yeonjun are working on cleaning up the space, like they always do. They know that if they leave it for the morning, it will never get done.
Beomgyu turns off the lights, while Yeonjun slowly piles their two sleeping friends onto the couch, grabbing a blanket left aside and placing it over them. He watches Taehyun move closer to Soobin, finding his place in his arms.
Yeonjun wonders if that’s what he looks like, when he’s lying with Beomgyu.
Beomgyu grabs the bag from the garbage can, bringing it over and holding it open for Yeonjun to drop the cans into and the leftover food. Together they place the dirty dishes in the sink and Yeonjun leads a drunk Beomgyu to the bedroom, who’s left stumbling.
“Have you thought about what you want?” Beomgyu asks, as Yeonjun lifts his shirt over his head for him.
“I was thinking a flower,” Yeonjun whispers, letting Beomgyu take off his own pants as he hands him his pyjamas.
Beomgyu smirks, changing. “Of course that’s what you want to get.”
It seems perfect to Yeonjun to get a flower. Like Halmeonie said, they are our voices when we don’t have the courage to speak.
It seems like a perfect thing to get, when Yeonjun finds himself eternally searching for the right words to express how he feels for Beomgyu.
“Which flower?” Beomgyu asks, watching Yeonjun change, his eyes following the movement of his arms.
“Dunno yet,”
“Don’t know what you want to say yet?” Beomgyu asks, opening his arms up for Yeonjun. He can read him so well, he knows what Yeonjun’s thinking without having to even be told. He knows how Yeonjun thinks, how he speaks.
Yeonjun shakes his head, “But you’ll be the first to know.” He lets himself fall into Beomgyu’s arms, leaning to the side, so they fall onto the pillows.
“Where do you want it?” Beomgyu whispers, holding a hand to Yeonjun’s cheek.
“Somewhere on my ribs, maybe?”
“Show me.”
“I just told you.”
Beomgyu shakes his head, hands moving down, slipping underneath Yeonjun’s shirt, “Hyung…” Beomgyu whispers again, his voice needy. A tone he knows Yeonjun doesn’t have the strength to deny.
“You’re drunk,” Yeonjun says, but he doesn’t take Beomgyu’s arms away, doesn't stop him from kissing his throat, and his hands from sliding his shirt up.
“You’re not thinking clearly,” Yeonjun tries but Beomgyu pulls Yeonjun’s shirt over his head, and presses his lips to his. His breath, hot, the smell of beer and soju lingering off of it. Yeonjun could taste it on his lips and tongue and he could blame his sudden lightheaded-ness on that but he knows it’s not the reason that he gets drunk off of Beomgyu’s lips alone.
It’s not the alcohol that causes his hands to move to Beomgyu’s shirt, taking it off only after a few minutes of it being on, and it’s not the alcohol that causes him to bring his hands down to his pants.
“Do you know what they say about alcohol?” Beomgyu mumbles against Yeonjun’s lips, the cool metal of his lip rings brushing against Yeonjun’s mouth.
“That it’s an aphrodisiac?” Yeonjun guesses, his breath hitching when he feels Beomgyu’s hands move lower.
“That it shows your true self,” Beomgyu smirks against Yeonjun’s lips, gently biting down,
“This…” Beomgyu starts again, “This is what you do to me…”
Yeonjun can feel Beomgyu’s heated skin against his own, “This is how you make me feel…”
Weak. Yeonjun feels weak against Beomgyu, against his beauty, against his own feelings for him.
Yeonjun moves, letting Beomgyu slip underneath him, “How do I make you feel?” he looks at Beomgyu’s face, at his pink cheeks, wet lips, parted as he lets out soft breaths.
“Weak.” Beomgyu says, as if reading his mind, “Like I don’t belong to myself, but like you belong to me.”
And Yeonjun can’t tell if Beomgyu is sober or still drunk, but he understands all the same. It’s not the alcohol that’s making them do this. It’s each other.
“I belong to you, Choi Yeonjun.”
“And I, you.”
Yeonjun wakes to the sound of the sink running in the bathroom. He’s quick to move a hand to the other side of the bed, it hits a sleeping Beomgyu. Yeonjun let’s his eyes open, remembering the two boys he had lugged onto his couch.
He lets his eyes fall onto Beomgyu, laying on his stomach, face shoved deep into a pillow. Yeonjun didn’t shy away from rolling over and onto Beomgyu’s back, wrapping one of their bare legs together.
He heard Beomgyu groan in protest, moving his face out from inside the pillow and onto its side, he got quiet again when he felt Yeonjun’s cheek hit his hair.
Yeonjun’s eyes closed, settling into Beomgyu’s warmth as he slowly slips back into sleep.
When Yeonjun comes to again, Beomgyu’s awake. His eyes opened as he looks straight across the room at their slightly opened door. His hand is holding Yeonjun’s, gently rubbing his thumb over it.
Yeonjun slips himself off, letting his eyes fall on Beomgyu’s exposed back, the tail of his dragon tattoo reaching down to the small of his back. Yeonjun drags his fingers down the back of the dragon, tracing it’s lines. Beomgyu shivers and turns around to face him.
“‘Morning, Hyung.” He mumbles with a yawn, sitting himself up. Yeonjun makes eye contact with Beomgyu’s thigh, black ink and thin shaky lines drawn over it.
And that’s when Yeonjun realizes,
“Beomgyu, you’re a fucking hypocrite.”
⚘
Yeonjun was studying when he heard a loud bang on the door of his dorm room. Soobin was out, it seemed like Soobin had a way larger social life than he did.
“Hello-”
“Hyung! Let me in!” Beomgyu’s voice cut through the violent banging on the door.
But Yeonjun had Beomgyu, and that was way better than whatever Soobin was doing.
Yeonjun closed his book, done studying for the night, and stood up, going over to open the door for his favorite dongsaeng.
Beomgyu’s fist stopped mid-flight when Yeonjun pulled the door open, “Oh, Hyung!”
Beomgyu quickly pushed past Yeonjun, leaving him to deal with all the stares of the other students who wondered whose room was trying to be broken into.
“I had a great idea.” Beomgyu said, setting his bag on Yeonjun’s bed, unloading.
“Yeah?” Yeonjun leaned on the door.
“You should give me a tattoo.” Beomgyu said, looking at him.
Yeonjun felt his feet slip against the carpeted floor, “I should what?”
“Give me a tattoo.” Beomgyu repeated, as if he were asking for Yeonjun to pass him something.
“No.”
Beomgyu’s shoulders dropped, “What do you mean no?”
“I mean, that’s an awful idea.”
“Why?”
“Why?” Yeonjun repeated, “Because I don’t know the first thing about tattoos.”
“That’s why I’m here. A quick crash course.” Beomgyu had stopped pulling the things out of his bag. “Hyung, people give themselves stick and pokes all the time which is way more dangerous than what we’re gonna do. I already sterilized everything so please?”
Yeonjun hated when Beomgyu had crazy ideas, because although they were bad. He thought them through, they were so bad and planned, that they actually worked.
“Fine,” Yeonjun sighed, knowing that if it wasn’t going to be today, Beomgyu would ask another time.
“I knew you’d come around,” Beomgyu smiled, setting up his things on Yeonjun’s desk.
“Hyung, where can I move your flower?” Beomgyu turns and shows him his potted periwinkle. It was new, still sitting in a small pot, he’d have to move it eventually.
“Put it on Soobin’s desk for now.” Yeonjun said, going over behind him, looking over his shoulder.
There were so many things piled onto his desks, he never knew tattoos took so many parts.
“Okay so this is the gun.” Beomgyu said, holding something that looked nothing like a gun.
“The needle is going to go here,” he pointed to a section. “The gun is plugged into this, which is then plugged into that. Use the foot pedal to control how fast the needle moves.”
“Oh, and if you see blood, you’re pushing the needle too deep.”
Yeonjun nodded, trying to take in all of the information.
“Because this is your first time, your lines will probably be shaky. I was thinking my thigh.” Beomgyu pulled up the pant leg of his shorts and slapped a spot on his upper thigh, “Right here.”
Yeonjun looked at him, “Okay...what do I draw?”
Beomgyu shrugged, sitting down, “Up to you.”
He was giving him too much power.
Yeonjun almost didn’t know what to do with it. Almost.
Beomgyu had chosen the perfect spot where no one would be able to see it, even in shorts. He’d have to be in his underwear for someone to see whatever it was Yeonjun was going to permanently ink across his skin.
Permanence. What a beautiful thing.
Unless Beomgyu chose to have it removed.
(Which Beomgyu never did. It still sits there now on his thigh. He never got it covered or fixed. It’s still drawn there, shaky, thin lines. It’s even faded a little. It sits there alone, nothing else tattooed on that leg. Even the pacman Beomgyu tattooed onto himself sits on the opposite thigh. It’s Yeonjun’s spot alone. Intimate. Only Yeonjun has ever seen it.
To Yeonjun, that was love. It has to be.)
“A teddy bear?” Beomgyu asked, looking at the finished tattoo, wrapping it.
“Yeah, you said I could choose.” Yeonjun quickly jumped, ready to defend himself.
But Beomgyu only shrugged and said, “It’s cute.”
Like you. Yeonjun fought the urge to say. There were some things that shouldn’t be said between them, things that could change the way they worked. Things were good the way they were.
(They only got better from there)
“I’ll take good care of this one, Yeonjun hyung.” Beomgyu looked up at him, showing him his teeth as he smiled and gave him a thumbs up.
⚘
“A hypocrite?” Beomgyu leans back on his arms, looking at Yeonjun, still laying on the bed.
He watches Yeonjun as he forces Beomgyu’s leg straight, pointing to the badly drawn teddy bear on his thigh.
“How does this make me a hypocrite?”
“You have this whole philosophy about relationships and tattoos, yet you walk around with this on your leg. Beomgyu, it’s not even nice.” Yeonjun sits up as he speaks, giving Beomgyu a look.
Beomgyu protectively places a hand over his thigh, “Don’t say that, this is my favorite. And it’s not the same, we were just friends then.”
“We’re dating now though.”
Beomgyu shakes his head, “Still doesn’t count.”
Yeonjun looks at him for a little while, thinking. Within the silence, the sound of voices from the other room can be heard in their bedroom. Taehyun and Soobin must be awake. “So, it’s your favorite?”
Beomgyu rolls his eyes at him, “Yeah.” What about? His voice was giving away.
“And that has nothing to do with the artist?”
“Of course it does,” Beomgyu answers almost immediately, as if he knew what Yeonjun was going to say before he even said it. Yeonjun doesn’t doubt the possibility of that.
“Okay, well let's say we break up-”
“Hyung.” Beomgyu cuts in, not liking the new topic.
Before was simple games, this. They’d never talked about something like this, it never came up. Not even the thought, until now.
There’s footsteps around the apartment, the sound of the sink running in the kitchen.
“Let’s say we break up,” Yeonjun says again, “Would you get it removed?”
“No,” Beomgyu frowns, “That would never happen,” he points his finger between the two of them, “Me and you, we’re forever.”
“Where do you guys keep your pans?” Soobin’s voice cuts in from the doorway, his head poking in from the crack.
Yeonjun moves to the end of the bed, lifting himself off, “I’ll show you.”
And that’s how Yeonjun knew.
Yeonjun sits shirtless on Beomgyu’s tattoo table in the parlour.
“So a periwinkle?” Beomgyu asks, putting the pieces of his tattoo gun together. He looks different now that Yeonjun is the one sitting on the table. He almost looks a little frightening.
Beomgyu looks at him when he doesn’t hear an answer, “Hyung, are you nervous?” there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. Yeonjun feels like he’s being teased.
“It’s kind of hard not to be.”
Beomgyu nods, “Well, I’m the one taking care of you,”
“That’s what worries me,” Yeonjun adds with a sigh.
“You really shouldn’t be pissing me off when I’m about to be shoving a needle in you,” Beomgyu glares at him, setting the gun down.
They could hear soft laughs come from the other corner of the room. Other artists from the parlour.
“I’m just saying,” Yeonjun shrugs, watching Beomgyu work.
It really is different, being on the receiving end and not just an onlooker. Yeonjun trusts Beomgyu, and he would rather have him do it than anyone else. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t just as nervous watching Beomgyu sketch out the tattoo design, showing it to him and asking him if he likes it, if he wants any fixes.
It doesn’t change the fact that he’ll be under Beomgyu’s hands in just a moment, he’ll be under Beomgyu’s touch. Something he’s not a stranger to but it still makes him nervous to know how malleable he is when it comes to Beomgyu. Even without permanent ink the dents Beomgyu has left in Yeonjun show. Now he’ll have permanent proof of it.
And even if it is his own choice, it still makes him nervous.
“You want it here right?” Beomgyu shows him a mirror, holding the stencil onto his rib with a finger. The design is small, and it’s somewhere hidden, no one would know if he didn’t tell them it was there. But this almost feels like it’s something to celebrate, something he’d want to show.
A tattoo his boyfriend gave him with his own, delicate, hands.
“Yeah, that’s good.”
Beomgyu nods, “Lay down, and I’ll start.”
Yeonjun slowly lets himself lay back, mouthing okay under his breath.
Beomgyu watches him, cringing, “Hyung, relax. You’re starting to stress me out.” He rolls his chair over to Yeonjun’s face, placing a hand in his hair.
“Sorry,” Yeonjun winces.
“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. We can just go home.” His hands are soft against his skin, one hand gently petting his head, making Yeonjun feel like a child again, the other on his arm, holding it gently.
“No, I’m sure.” Yeonjun reassures Beomgyu, and himself.
“Okay,” Beomgyu presses a small kiss above his brow and turns to put on his gloves. He starts by sanitizing the section, then he places down the stencil, showing Yeonjun with a mirror.
When he starts he tells Yeonjun that it’s going to hurt. And it does, a lot.
But Yeonjun keeps his eyes on Beomgyu the whole time, he doesn’t let them move away from the dark hair that Beomgyu has pulled back into a ponytail, something he never does when working but has done for Yeonjun to make him feel more comfortable. He doesn’t move his eyes away from the silver jewelry that hands from Beomgyu’s neck, or the little diamond in his nose. He stares at the black ink on his neck and the crown that sits at the bottom of his ear.
And everytime Beomgyu stops and changes the ink color, he looks back at him. He whispers a few reassuring words, a hand on his thigh and Yeonjun almost wants to cry because suddenly it doesn’t hurt.
He numbs away the pain—Beomgyu.
“So forever?”
Yeonjun asks, at home on their couch, resting his head in the crook of Beomgyu’s neck. The skin around his rib feels sore and tender but Beomgyu’s touch on his skin, fingers brushing his face, arm around his waist, drowns it out.
“What about forever?” Beomgyu asks, moving his head to look at him better, his chin in Yeonjun’s hair.
“Me and you?” Yeonjun tilts his head up, to get a better look, “that’s what you said.”
“Yeah, why? Scared you're gonna get sick of me?” Beomgyu breathes out a laugh and Yeonjun can’t help but do it too because it’s a ridiculous thought.
“Isn’t that kind of like jinxing it though?”
“I thought you didn’t believe in jinxes,” Beomgyu says, dropping his hand off of Yeonjun’s face and letting it sit at the base of his neck.
“I don’t, but you do.”
“But I believe in you more.” He presses his lips to his temple, “Don’t you believe in me?”
Yeonjun, more than some, knows that one should never get a relationship tattoo.
But more than anyone else, Beomgyu knows this.
But even he—whether he admits to it or not—has fallen victim to the urge.
Because jinx or no jinx, all that really matters is whether or not you believe in the person.
And Beomgyu and Yeonjun will always believe in each other.