Work Text:
Beomgyu sits up heavily, a bit too fast, sinking further into his soft mattress. It’s a bit too soft in his opinion, much too soft to support his frame. If he’d known all the issues that come with a cheap secondhand mattress he would’ve saved up a bit more before moving out.
His bed brings no comfort, it never has, much like most things inside his minuscule apartment. Even though he’s only been in Seoul for 2 months or so, he knows it doesn’t feel like home and it’s not simply because it’s new, it’s just empty.
His room is covered in paintings and plants, his furniture was painted comforting colors and he picked the cutlery himself, but whenever he holds them or touches the walls his palms feel strangely cold.
Beomgyu misses the buzzing of his childhood home back in Daegu, misses the way every inch of it holds either a memory or the promise of one to be made with the people he loves the most. But for the next few years at the very least he’ll be stuck in a random pretend home in the middle of a huge city he knows nothing about. It’s exactly what he’s always wanted, so why does it feel so weird?
Breaking out of his thoughts, Beomgyu glances at the clock and realizes it’s 4am, which means he’s been lying in bed wide awake for two full hours. It’s not a new situation by any means, but it still makes him sigh defeatedly.
Sleep is clearly way out of reach and his bed is giving him back pain, so Beomgyu walks to his tiny balcony and steps out into the night, ignoring the cold air as best as he can.
The sky is a deep shade of black. Despite the late hour, he’s pretty sure the sky should be blue and not black.
It feels like the universe is trying to reflect something from within him with how dark it is, like some sort of joke to remind him of why his eyes can’t seem to stay closed no matter how much his body screams from exhaustion. As if Beomgyu wasn’t already well aware of the gaping hole in his soul, a lost piece missing for so long he doesn’t even remember what used to be there, if there even was anything at all in the first place.
His own thoughts feel insufferable, so he tries to push them away by focusing on the scene in front of him. His chest feels tight but Beomgyu still can’t help thinking that the sky is beautiful, so incredibly dark but still littered with a thousand little bright spots, shining so strongly despite being so far away.
It makes his heart ache so bad but also fills it with warmth, somehow. It doesn’t make sense, but after many nights spent awake thinking over his feelings Beomgyu decided that’s just how humans are. Contradictory and confusing, complex and intense, like walking paradoxes that sometimes forget they’re not only what meets the eye. Like stars that shine and shine and shine for countless years even after they’re dead because they don’t fully understand what’s going on.
A voice in his head calls him a pretentious poet, and he can’t help but agree. There’s a reason he doesn’t fully open up to most people, an answer to why he never shows new people any of the things he creates, and it’s because he feels so small in his own vulnerability that the mere thought of letting someone in sends a shiver down his spine.
Beomgyu takes a deep breath and the chilly wind that blows against his face is weirdly comforting, fills his lungs in a way he didn’t know was possible.
It’s reminiscent of late nights spent like this back in his hometown, staring at the sky as his father told him about the stars. He curses himself for not paying enough attention, for not remembering the constellations’s names, for letting those moments slip by without a second thought.
Despite the warm memories clouding his brain, the empty spot next to him feels agonizingly painful. A spot that was once occupied by his parents and later on by his stupid brother. As the both of them grew older and independent, a group of weird friends showed up, crowding his too small bedroom in loud sleepovers that will forever hold a place in his heart.
Then came the lovers, dark crimson silhouettes of short and long hair, soft skin and warm hands, some bigger and some smaller than him. None that fully understood why Beomgyu enjoyed to dwell in this late night melancholy, why his heart felt impossibly full in both the worst and best way at the same time.
As he thinks more about it, Beomgyu realizes that he’s never had someone fill in this specific spot, the slot under his arm as he looks at the night sky and revels in the feeling of being insignificant under the stars. He’s never had someone who feels it too, has always been left in the cold wind after a few brief moments with a squeeze on the shoulder or small kiss on the forehead and confused faces.
Beomgyu knows he’s always been a quirky one, as his mother would lovingly put it. He didn’t enjoy sports like most boys did growing up, didn’t watch superhero movies or pull all-nighters playing video games. He wasn’t a bookworm either, his grades were always far from praise worthy and his school diary held too many notes from his teachers about forgetting to turn in homework.
His joy always lied in unusual things. Building intricate miniatures of race cars with his father, cutting funny cookie shapes with his brother and eating them raw behind his mother’s back, playing guitar in his empty backyard but pretending it’s a huge stadium, browsing the internet for delicate jewelry and deciding they’re too expensive so he’ll steal some from his mom instead.
He knows he’s soft, delicate. His heart is made of shiny colorful glass that reflect his every emotion so strongly. He knows he’s often a bit too intense and feels more than most people do.
But Beomgyu is in no way ashamed of that.
He grew up surrounded by love and laughter, being a chatterbox himself. His soft edges are covered by thick skin and handpicked outfits, painted nails and curly hair that he styles himself every morning. School was tough and lonely at times but his home taught him to never abandon himself and he holds the moments of happiness he’s lived close to his heart, with so much care that it’s almost as if they’re made of light.
Beomgyu has no issue with who he is, but he knows the world does. He’s been teased for letting his hair grow, been pushed to the ground in the school’s hallway one too many times after pottery club classes. God forbid remembering what happened when he came out, the silence that followed his every step in school and the whispers from other boys calling him disgusting things.
Beomgyu knows that behind all his wide smiles and jokes there is quiet and calm, a person so contrasting to his usual self that sometimes he himself is surprised by it.
He’s learnt to play pretend, to run around and poke fun at others and speak loudly instead of softly. He became an expert at acting confident and boisterous, spent time fitting into the expectations of others, crafted a version of himself that is easier to swallow.
He’s had close friends and people to call his own, but none of them ever liked to wake up early to watch the sunset over a warm cup of tea or talk about the intricacies of being human. None of them ever asked him about his countless notebooks filled with compositions or how long it took to build his crafts. They all laughed when he asked silly questions and ranted about his interests, but it never really reached their eyes, and whenever he’d bring that up again in the morning it felt like it had all been a dream.
His whole life Beomgyu has craved to go out there and find himself reflected in another person, like how his mother found his father. Or even like how his brother found his roommate, who feels like another child in the family
And as he stands on the narrow balcony, shivering just slightly under the winter fog, the craving feels stronger than ever.
Beomgyu knows it’s weird, knows it’s barely 4:30am on a Sunday and knows that he and that boy have only ever held hands. But as the stars shine down on him like a movie scene, Beomgyu can’t hold back the urge to see the only person he’s ever met whose presence makes him feel like himself, even more than the comfort of his bedroom back home ever could.
So he goes back inside and grabs a jacket or two, maybe three. It’s the middle of winter after all, and he doesn’t bother to change from his fluffy pajamas because he knows Soobin doesn’t care. He grabs his wallet and leaves the cubicle he’s now forced to call home.
Beomgyu walks alone, feels the tip of his nose freezing off and wonders if Soobin will comment on it, with his cute laugh and deep voice. Wonders if he’ll get to sit on the counter and watch as he works, the one thing he loves to do the most in the world.
Soobin is a baker, son of the kind old man who owns a little bakery down the street. Beomgyu first saw him with his face covered in powdered sugar after dropping an entire tray of pastries. Normally he would’ve laughed historically but something in the boy’s eyes made him weirdly calm, so he only chucked and bent down to help with cleaning up.
He found it endearing when Soobin apologized despite having no reason to, and when Beomgyu was offered a drink on the house he knew there was not a chance he’d refuse it. Especially not when the man standing there looked like his wildest dreams and made him desperate for a reason to get closer.
He ended up with a cup of hot chocolate that smelt like heaven and a croissant that could make the French cry, sat comfortably at the shop‘s counter. He stared at Soobin, flushed when he stared back, introduced himself and commented that he’s new in town.
The way the other’s face lit up at his revelation was way too endearing, almost as cute as the lisp in his voice when he offered to show Beomgyu around.
He once again couldn’t bring himself to say no, not that he wanted to anyway. He’s always had a weak spot for tall men and, judging by the way his neck was starting to hurt from looking up, life just gifted him with an adorable one.
As they continued talking, Soobin explained to him the recipes to everything for sale and Beomgyu talked about how he used to help his family cook back home even though he’s no good at it. The older laughed loudly and it felt intoxicating, so Beomgyu laughed along even as he defended himself by declaring that he makes up for it by being very good at cleaning.
When a handful of customers walked in and Soobin had to leave his spot behind the counter, Beomgyu found his hands itching to draw the scene before him. The bakery is small but cozy, all warm tones and vintage decor, clearly a place that’s been deeply loved for a long time.
He also couldn’t help wanting to eternalize the very essence of Soobin, but he did try to push the thought away when his mind started going on about how it would be cute to have a baker for a boyfriend, especially a clumsy one. The scenarios passing through his head were embarrassing, but he’s long learnt that it’s impossible to run away from them. He’s always been a hopeless romantic after all.
He doesn’t really know anyone in town yet, so it’s not that embarrassing when he decides to show up at the bakery every day after class. And it’s definitely not embarrassing when Soobin greets him every time, all dimples and softness as he explains whatever the daily special is.
They grow close quickly. Beomgyu finds it easy to open up when the other always seems to know what to talk about. Soobin talks about how he’s learning to knit, mentions his pets (a series of weird animals that Beomgyu has never considered to have as pets, but finds endearing anyway) and how he spends his free Saturday evenings singing at a local bar for some spare money.
So in return Beomgyu tells him about how he’s crafted all the decor os his little apartment, talks about his energetic pet parrot and finds it hilarious when Soobin makes a confused face. He reveals his passion for music, his dream of composing for a big artist one day. His voice stutters as the words leave his mouth but Soobin gives him such a bright smile that he thinks he could graduate college living solely on the energy that it gave him.
It becomes a habit to spend his evenings at the bakery, talking over coffee and holding Soobin’s hand on top of the table. He doesn’t know who started it, but at some point he found his fingers interlocked with the other’s and it was a perfect fit, so he made the effort to push past his worries and keep doing it every time he could.
Beomgyu decides he’s going to be unapologetically himself when he’s inside this little bakery. He’s going to come in every day and leave little doodles on sticky notes at every table for people to smile at, he’s going to eat everything he wants even if he needs to change the order three times because he hates too many of the ingredients. He will keep coming and sitting at the exact same stall until every person in town knows that spot belongs to him.
Today he arrives at the bakery’s door at 4:43am, wondering if he’ll get to hold Soobin’s hand again soon. The lights inside the shop were already on despite the “closed” sign still turned outwards, and he knew the door was unlocked because Soobin had once told him how early he wakes up each morning to start baking and it shocked him tremendously.
As his hand hovered over the handle, Beomgyu hesitated. He knows he’s falling fast, he always has.
But the difference this time is that the person holding his heart doesn’t look at him weirdly when he says he prefers midnight McDonalds drives over house parties, or that he’s recently become interested in some long forgotten artist with less than a dime to their name, not even when he shows up in ripped clothes, blonde highlights and winged eyeliner. Every time Beomgyu shows a bit more of himself, Soobin widens his eyes and asks for more.
And gives back just as much.
Soobin doesn’t go on his phone when they’re talking, doesn’t hum absentmindedly or change the topic. Instead he stares deeply into Beomgyu’s eyes with an intensity that sets his chest on fire, asks questions, tells his own stories, reaches over to squeeze his hand and gently rub a thumb over his palm.
So he grabs onto the warmth in his heart and walks through the door. He ignores the awkward silence and looks around for Soobin, finding him at the back bent over a metal table, fully focused on frosting some fresh pastries.
He knows it’s a bad idea but Beomgyu is a child at heart, so he jumps on the older’s back and loses his breath laughing at the terrified scream that echoes through the kitchen.
“Beomgyu? What the fuck?” Soobin is quick to turn around, eyes wider than what should be humanly possible.
Beomgyu’s entire body buzzed with the happiness of being around his favorite person. He hadn’t thought about what to say and his mind was spinning a little too fast, so he decided to let whatever was on his mind come right out through his mouth without any second thoughts.
“I couldn’t sleep all night. I tried everything but none of it worked, so I went to look at the sky and I thought it was beautiful. The stars are beautiful and they’re shining so bright. I just wanted to tell you.”
If honesty were a sin, Beomgyu would be doomed. He’s not an open book, he’s hundreds of pages scattered around on top of a table, begging to be read.
Soobin’s eyes softened at his words. If a mere second ago he felt so shocked his heart almost gave out, the endearment that now filled his body was somehow even stronger. The man tossed his frosting bag aside hurriedly and reached for the other’s hand like second nature.
It fit perfectly, like it always does.
“You walked all the way here because you just wanted to tell me that the sky is beautiful? At 4am? In the middle of December?”
Beomgyu couldn’t help but blush, suddenly finding the floor to be extremely interesting to look at.
“Well, it’s probably 5 by now, you know.”
He loves the sound of Soobin’s chuckles. Loves how soft they are, the little smirk that always accompanies them and the way he shakes his head lightly.
This time he loves not only that, but also the way Soobin pulls him closer and wraps an arm around his waist.
“So you came by at 5am just to tell me about the stars. You’re cute,” he leans down to touch their foreheads. “I like your ducky pajamas. I like you, actually.”
A pause. Soobin’s tongue slips past his lips to wet them, a nervous habit he’d shown a couple times back when they first started talking. He doesn’t know what made him so brave, if it’s the comfort of his warm kitchen or the fact that he hasn’t slept in over 24 hours.
Maybe it’s the way Beomgyu looks soft and squishy, so sleepy and so fitting, like he’s at his own home and went downstairs for a snack like Soobin himself does so often in the middle of the night. He thinks Beomgyu could start doing just that.
He’s been thinking that for a couple weeks now.
As Soobin enjoys his little thoughts of a groggy Beomgyu tiptoeing into the kitchen to steal cookies, the smaller boy feels faint and dizzy from his racing heart.
“Like me?” He didn’t think his voice has ever been that soft. Doesn’t think the ground under his feet has ever felt that soft either.
“Mhmm, yeah. I do. And there’s something I want to tell you, too.”
Soobin puts a hand on Beomgyu’s face and scrunches his nose in the way he only does when he’s shy. It’s adorable.
Inside the older’s head there’s a mixture of anxious and excited thoughts. He’s riding a burst of confidence and hopes it won’t run out too soon.
“I think you’re more beautiful than the sky, at any time of the day. And you can go upstairs to sleep in my room if you want, I’ll bring you breakfast in a bit.”
Beomgyu honest to god feels like his soul has left his body. He briefly wonders if he actually fell back asleep instead of leaving his house and ended up dreaming about the fantasies he always creates about Soobin in his free time.
But as he feels long fingers gently caress his face and sweat slowly build up at the nape of his neck, there is no way to deny he is in fact awake.
“Isn’t that… isn’t that a bit… intimate?” Beomgyu says and immediately regrets it. “Not that it’s a bad thing! I just don’t know if I should be taking over your space? I can go home—“
“Beomgyu, I want you to sleep in my bed, it’s ok.”
The laugh he gives is way too loud for such an early hour, but he can’t seem to care when Soobin buries his face in his hands and groans lowly.
“That’s not what I meant. I mean, uh, maybe if you want to then maybe it is what I meant, though? Sorry. I’m sorry.”
Beomgyu’s never felt so daring in his life, but his heart feels like it’s swimming in warm fuzzy water and he’s never been good at holding back. Specially not when it comes to Soobin.
He never wanted to when it comes to Soobin.
Drunk on endearment, Beomgyu stands on his tip toes and grabs the older’s face as softly as he can, gently resting their lips together. His heart is beating hard enough to break through his bones, but he’s still taken over by a feeling of comfort.
It feels a bit like wrapping himself in his favorite blanket after a long day.
He waits for Soobin to pull away, and he does just that. Looks into his eyes for a split second before kissing him again, even softer and much, much warmer, almost like blazing fire as he catches Beomgyu’s bottom lip between his own and squeezes it lightly, as his hand squeezes Beomgyu’s waist tightly.
When Soobin pulls away again they both look dazed and feel high.
“Go upstairs, it’s the first room to your right. I’ll make your favorite tea and you can spend the day here, if you want.”
Beomgyu smiles so wide it hurts his cheeks and his eyes can’t stay open even though he never wants to stop looking at Soobin.
“Do you mind if I stay a bit longer?” He puts his hands behind his back and swings a bit, making his best mischievous face. It was a good attempt at being cheeky, but it fully failed to hide his red cheeks and glowing smile.
Soobin thought Beomgyu should stay for his whole life. He’d wake up early like usual, kiss Beomgyu’s forehead and go downstairs to make them breakfast. He’d bring it to their bed every day and talk about anything because the other would still be almost fully asleep but Soobin knows he likes the sound of talking in the background. They’d spend the day doing different things in the same room, Beomgyu would go to his classes and bring back random food he thought Soobin might like. They’d shower together and cuddle to sleep under soft blankets and a faint night light, the way he knows Beomgyu feels most safe.
Both of them had those same thoughts, but it wouldn’t be until a couple months later that they’d realize it.
“Yeah, I think you can stay a bit longer.”