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The knock comes just after Beomgyu finishes rinsing.
His skin’s still a bit slippery from the soap, residual suds sliding on the floor. He perks up at the sound, though his eyes remain shut—can’t risk the soap getting in them. For a moment he thought he’d conjured up the sound, but it comes again. Twice, this time. Followed by a quiet voice, Beomgyu-yah, can I come in?
Beomgyu hadn't heard the front door open. It’s impossible to, with the continuous stream of water gushing down his back, droplets forming at the ends of his hair and dripping down his skin. The shower sounds had buzzed in his ears for a few minutes now, a welcome break to the apartment’s numbing afternoon quiet.
So Beomgyu smiles. Translates his surprise into an answer to the hanging question. “Come in, hyung,” he says, bringing his legs up and hugging them so his knees press together. Realistically he knows he has nothing to hide, but it’s getting cold, and curling up like this renders him small and warm under the stream of water. The goosebumps on his skin don’t seem to be leaving anytime soon.
Slowly, he hears the door open.
“Hi,” Beomgyu greets. His eyes are still closed but he feels the weight of the stare on the other side of the glass. “You’re early.”
The laugh comes not even a second later. “Why are you sitting on the floor?”
“Tired.” Beomgyu’s cheeks hurt, he’s smiling too hard. “But I needed a shower.” He chances a peek, but his face is soaked and if he opened his eyes now, it’d only be in vain. So he slides back a little, enough for his head to be out of the shower’s target. The water falls on his toes now. He wipes his face with the back of his hand and looks up.
Soobin stands there, tall figure slightly foggy from the condensation on the glass walls. He’s unmoving, says nothing. Unreadable face, yet still so handsome. It does things to Beomgyu’s heart, can't believe he’s mine.
Beomgyu reaches out, palm on the glass, and slides the door open.
“Join me?”
There it is: the faintest twitch of Soobin’s lips. A shake of the head, an eye roll, and then he gives in to a laugh, tangling alongside Beomgyu’s own giggles.
It’s always like this. Soobin can’t hold back when he’s with Beomgyu, and Beomgyu knows it. Always so responsive, always does things to Beomgyu’s weak, weak heart. Sometimes Beomgyu can’t believe it. How he has the power to toy with Soobin like this, and have him play along, nonetheless. Makes Beomgyu feel seen, adored.
Somewhere between Beomgyu’s peals of laughter, his eyes had gradually fallen shut again. Heavy body, sluggish limbs. He’d taken a sick day off from work yesterday; he was lucky enough to have been granted another one today. Though the worst of his sickness struck Wednesday night through yesterday afternoon, he still feels quite fuzzy, the lightheaded daze taking over. But they’re phantom traces at this point, telltale signs of the sickness leaving his system. Still, his energy levels aren’t at their best, and it takes him longer than usual to process things. Like how he doesn’t notice that Soobin had moved until he feels the shower slow to a stop.
“Cold.” Beomgyu frowns, eyes blinking open and landing on the ceiling. The chill climbs up his back, lightning-fast. He fights a shiver away. “Wasn’t done, hyung. Haven’t washed my hair yet.”
From where Beomgyu’s at, the shampoo bottle sits on the rack above him, a looming figure to his tired eyes. It’s unopened, a new brand they’d picked up on yesterday’s grocery trip. He turns his head lazily to face Soobin, whose eyes are already fixed on Beomgyu.
With the shower off, the room’s fallen silent. Yet the intensity of Soobin’s gaze nips at him, shadows of words unsaid and questions unasked. lt’s too much, even for a self-proclaimed attention lover like Beomgyu.
“What is it,” Beomgyu pouts, needing a diversion from the quiet. “Speechless ‘cause of how good your boyfriend looks?”
“If that were the case, I wouldn't be able to speak again.”
And Soobin tilts his head, smiles down at him. Teeth and all. Dimples out on display. Fucking hell.
Beomgyu’s about to retort, but as soon as he opens his mouth, he falls into a coughing fit. He curls into himself even more, and maybe the shiver that racks his body is too visible, because the expression on Soobin’s face quickly morphs into one of concern.
“Still sick, Beomgyu-yah?”
“Better than yesterday.” He sniffs and feels the beginnings of a headache in his temples, but it isn't a lie. He’s feeling a little more sane today. At least he isn’t bedridden, dry eyes from a fever. At least his voice is back now, sore throat completely gone. Only the cough and colds stayed.
Soobin sighs. “I think you should step out of the shower. Staying here for longer might make it worse.”
“But,” Beomgyu frowns, “aren’t we going out tonight? I refuse to leave without washing my hair.” With a much bigger deal of effort than he’d like to admit, he stands, takes the bottle from the rack, and—
Soobin’s hand is on his. Beomgyu looks up in surprise. In his confusion, he lets Soobin take the shampoo bottle from him, mind too slow to process why.
“I’ll wash it for you,” Soobin says. “Hold on.”
Beomgyu can do nothing but watch as Soobin moves towards the mirror, his back to Beomgyu. Through the glass Beomgyu sees him loosen up his tie, shrug his blazer off. He’s so handsome. Beomgyu looks away. A smile plays on his lips.
“Here,” Soobin says, once he’s done. He hands Beomgyu a towel. “Cover up if it’s cold, yeah? I need to change into something else first.”
And he turns, walks out of the bathroom.
Beomgyu lets the words soak through him. Slowly, like the suds slipping down the drain. The water’s ticklish around his feet. The air’s cold around his chest, his neck. So he gives in. Wraps the towel around himself. Waits for Soobin to come back.
Beomgyu and Soobin aren’t the type to keep tabs on conventionally important milestones in their relationship. They aren’t even sure of their exact anniversary date. Soobin had approached him with the question a few months after they made it official, “Beomgyu-yah, do you remember when we started dating?”
It had been too late to dig back into it. Beomgyu thinks the lines between them had been blurred long before they started dating for real, which made it harder to pinpoint when everything fell into place.
They figured it happened sometime in early March, frigid air thawing into milder breezes. The shifting point from winter to spring. The uncertain in-between of seasons. At a time when padded jackets were too warm, yet lighter jackets still couldn’t do the trick.
It had happened like that, Beomgyu thinks. Naturally. He and Soobin were already closer than most—close enough to have heads turn when they’d chalk their closeness off to being best friends. For a while, Beomgyu thought it would work out. He wore the best friend title a little too dear to his heart. No one else could see Soobin the way Beomgyu did, and there was no one in the world Beomgyu trusted more than Soobin.
A friendship so rare, so beautiful. Beomgyu didn’t want to lose that.
But here, sitting on a plastic stepper as Soobin massages the shampoo into Beomgyu’s scalp, he knows he never lost anything. It’s been five years, and still only Soobin gets to see him like this. Only Soobin knows how to care for him like this. Beomgyu runs on his pride, on making people love him for all he can do. A people pleaser, does everything to show off who he is. Who he can be.
Rewarding as it is, Beomgyu gets tired of pretending, sometimes. With Soobin, Beomgyu never has to.
“Hyung,” Beomgyu says.
“Hmm?”
“Do you think we’d still be doing this if we never dated?”
“What?” Soobin sounds confused. It makes Beomgyu smile.
“Like, you washing my hair. If we never… you know. Dated, or anything—do you still think we’d be doing things like these?”
Soobin combs through Beomgyu’s hair with his fingers, gentle, slow. He draws circles on the skin behind Beomgyu’s ears. It makes Beomgyu drowsy, he’s so tired.
“Maybe,” Soobin’s voice cuts through his reverie. “I think we'd be unfazed, for the most part. We’d call it normal friend stuff, right?”
Beomgyu thinks it makes sense. All through high school, they’d always been attached to the hip, needing the other close. They linked arms as they walked home, Soobin dropping Beomgyu off at his doorstep because his place was closer. College was almost the same, too, except they went to different universities and rented apartments in different areas. They shared all their drinks, ate each other’s food. Things like that never bothered them.
Until Soobin told Beomgyu he liked him, hesitance bleeding into his voice. “I know this might come as a shock to you, but I needed to let you know. No secrets, right?” Then he laughed and Beomgyu felt himself crumble. He knew that laugh. Soobin used it only when he felt awkward, unsure—never with Beomgyu.
Uncharted territory, and they both knew it.
But they promised each other that it wasn’t going to change things between them. And they were right. Weeks passed and they did things as usual, except Beomgyu now knew the feelings Soobin harbored for him.
And it was that normalcy, the seamless way they fit back into whatever their relationship was—that was Beomgyu’s tipping point. Things were the same because they’ve always been like that. Their late-night calls, convenience store breakfasts. Their talks about the future and how they’d move into a shared apartment if they were both still single by the time Beomgyu turns twenty-five.
Heck, on their Friday noraebang evenings, he’d think of Soobin whenever they happened to sing some lovey-dovey ballad. Which was… odd, considering Soobin was always with him. His best friend. His partner in crime. What else was there to yearn for, what else was there to need?
Tiny buds of love, and Beomgyu finally let them bloom soon after: panting in front of Soobin’s apartment, his nose red from the cold.
“You’re it for me,” were his first words to a very frazzled, confused Soobin. “I like you, hyung. I think I always have. Sorry it took me so long to realize—”
And Soobin had dragged him inside, kissed him by the coat rack, and Beomgyu knew there was no turning back. His hands in Soobin’s hair, Soobin’s hands around his waist. Soobin was it for him then, Soobin was it for him ever since.
He’s it for him now, too, working through the lather in Beomgyu’s hair in the afternoon before their anniversary dinner. He’s taking his time, wiping off suds from Beomgyu’s face every so often. Delicate fingers and it makes Beomgyu want to give in to his sleepiness.
“Gonna be late, hyung,” he mumbles, after a yawn. “What time’s our reservation, again?”
“Six thirty,” Soobin says. “But do you still want to go? We can stay here if you want. Order takeout and watch a movie. I know you’re tired.”
It sounds so appealing. Beomgyu wants nothing more than to stay in, spend a relaxed evening at home. It doesn’t help that it’s the weekend tomorrow, his lethargy increasing tenfold. But Soobin had worked so hard just to earn a pass to leave his office early today. To call off the reservation just for a cold that’s almost gone…
“Hyung,” Beomgyu pouts, “you came home early for this.”
Soobin huffs. “I came home early for you, stupid.”
It’s embarrassing, really. Beomgyu hates being sick, his mind becomes too slow to get back at Soobin’s teasing jabs. He digests Soobin’s words and they turn him into mush. Beomgyu blinks at the floor, at the patches of foam on the tiles, and mumbles out a small, you’re so unfair.
It makes Soobin laugh—the one their friends like to call his trademark Beomgyu laugh: head thrown back, the skin around his eyes all crinkled, as if Beomgyu’s the funniest person on earth. Beomgyu cracks into a smile himself. Sometimes Beomgyu thinks Soobin gives him too much credit. But Beomgyu is weak to him, too. Insanity at its finest. They’re so perfect.
“We’ll do whatever you want, Beomgyu. Okay?” Soobin leans down to kiss Beomgyu on the forehead before turning the shower on. Then his fingers are back on Beomgyu’s hair and really, Beomgyu could stay here forever.
No, they’re not going out tonight.
It takes a bottle falling to the ground to jolt Beomgyu awake from the depths of drowsiness. His eyes fly open just in time to see Soobin bending down to pick it up.
“Sorry,” Soobin whispers. He puts it back on the rack. “Accident.”
Typical. Soobin’s clumsy like that. He moves back to the front of Beomgyu’s line of vision, and tilts Beomgyu’s face upwards.
Drowsily, he blinks up at him. Soobin’s so tall like this, knitted brows and pouty lips as his gaze lands on Beomgyu. Beomgyu feels his insides swoop.
“Ah, ah, not yet.” Soobin’s eyes flit up a little, then back down to meet Beomgyu’s. His thumbs graze the apples of Beomgyu’s cheeks. “Keep your eyes closed, yeobo. The shampoo might get in them.”
Yeobo.
Beomgyu processes the word at around the same time Soobin does, if the gasp Soobin lets out is any indication.
“Yeobo, huh? Beomgyu smirks, letting his eyes fall shut. “That’s a new one. You never called me that before.”
There’s a small stretch of silence before Soobin speaks. “Do you want me to?”
Beomgyu mulls it over. Soobin isn't the type. Took him a while to start using pet names with Beomgyu, the occasional jagiya or aegiya here and there. Beomgyu can’t hold it against him, though. He knows Soobin can get shy around terms of endearment. It just isn’t his forte.
“Yeobo,” Soobin says, again. Softer, this time. Like he’s testing how the word sounds. How it fits in his mouth. “Yeobo. I think I… need to get used to it first.”
“Hey.” Beomgyu opens his eyes, the possibility of getting shampoo in them be damned. Soobin isn't showy with words. He really isn't, but Beomgyu knows he loves being reminded through them. Needs to be reminded. “Hyung, look at me.”
Soobin does. His eyes are so big, so beautiful, Beomgyu needs him nearer. He cups Soobin’s cheeks, brings him down, closer. “I can live with you calling me Beomgyu for the rest of my life, hyung.” Soobin’s gaze drops down at that. Beomgyu can almost count his eyelashes. Pretty, pretty. “I have enough pet names to go around.”
And he goes on, listing them off: jagiya, yeobo, nae sarang. He feels Soobin's skin turn warm on his fingers. Light red cheeks, when he pulls his hands away. “Cute,” Beomgyu breathes out a laugh. “So cute.”
Beomgyu had always known of his outspoken personality. Growing up, people showered him with praises: aigoo, so lively and high-spirited. Never let anyone tamper with that, okay, Gyu-ah? And for a while, Beomgyu thought that was what he needed. A match. A twin flame. Someone to mirror his nature, fire to fire.
But fire can wear out and on days he can’t keep up with it, Soobin’s there to hold him back, let him be, and show Beomgyu that he doesn’t have to let himself burn constantly to be worthy.
If Beomgyu loves loudly then Soobin does it quietly. Two sides of the same coin—opposite exteriors yet still connected, pressed together, inseparable.
“You’re cute, too.” Soobin says in reply, clearing his throat as he straightens up. “So cheesy when you’re sick.” And the shower starts up again, Beomgyu’s protests dying alongside the sound.
Such a fucking loser, Beomgyu thinks, ending the conversation by turning the shower on. But he tilts his head back and lets Soobin wash the last of the shampoo away. Lets Soobin dote on him in the way he does best.
In the way Beomgyu loves.
“You okay?” Soobin asks, dabbing around Beomgyu’s nose once they’ve stepped out of the shower.
“Mm,” Beomgyu sniffs. “Nose feels a bit stuffy. Need to blow it, I think.” Soobin nods, lets him go, and Beomgyu pads over to the sink. He splashes water on his face too while he’s at it, the drowsiness hitting him harder now.
He walks back to Soobin when that’s done. “Hi,” Beomgyu says, smiling up at him.
“Hey yourself.” Soobin has a fresh towel in his hands. He moves forward and starts squeezing Beomgyu’s hair with it, drying the strands section by section. “Why are we smiling?”
“Because we’re happy.” Beomgyu takes Soobin’s face in both of his hands. “Happy anniversary, jagiya.” Soobin’s face visibly softens, dimples appearing on his cheeks. Beomgyu runs his fingers on the dips in his skin as Soobin leans forward, bonking their foreheads together.
“Happy anniversary.”
“I missed you today, you know,” Beomgyu tells him as Soobin finishes up. He feels Soobin pause, then he brings the towel up and away from Beomgyu’s head. Beomgyu’s hair falls back to his face so he swipes the strands away.
“You saw me before I left. And I’m back now, so.”
Beomgyu hums, “True. Doesn’t mean I can't miss you, though.” He’s feeling particularly clingy today so he steps forward, throws his arms around Soobin. Digs his head into Soobin’s shirt, the fabric still damp. “Feels like home.”
“Five years of dating,” Soobin sighs dramatically, “and you’re still as obsessed as ever.” But his arms wrap around Beomgyu’s figure, nonetheless. “You really need to get a grip.”
Fine. Two can play at this game. Beomgyu leans back to flick Soobin on the forehead. The response is instantaneous, Soobin yelps and moves back, a string of curses flying out of his mouth. “Hyung,” Beomgyu starts, “please be serious. Don’t go saying things like that when you literally offered to wash my hair!”
“You have a cold,” Soobin points out, “and I caught you sitting on the floor of our shower. It’s only natural.”
Fondly, Beomgyu rolls his eyes. “Excuses, excuses.”
Without Soobin’s body heat as close to him as before, it feels a lot colder. The towel hugging his body does little to nothing to fight it off. Some patches of it are wet, too, only intensifying the feeling. Beomgyu shivers. He needs to change into something warm.
He slips out of the bathroom. Soobin stays behind, probably to wash his face or something. But the sink stops running soon after Beomgyu steps out the door. Then, Soobin’s voice, “You have clothes ready on the bed. I put them there earlier.”
His knight in shining armor, seriously. The closet’s a bit further than their bed is, and Beomgyu is so glad he doesn’t have to walk the extra steps, doesn’t have to rummage around his drawers. He grins, fingers already itching to throw the hoodie and sweatpants on. Just a little more, then he can dive under the covers to catch a nap before dinner. But first…
“See!” Beomgyu yells over his shoulder, a wicked grin on his face, “So whipped for me, hyung!”
The sink stops running again, abrupt end. Then comes the sound of footsteps, inching closer.
Beomgyu shrieks, grabs the pile of clothes with one hand, holds onto his towel with another, and flees the bedroom. Sluggish feeling be damned, this is fun. Soobin catches up instantly, but that’s alright, Beomgyu anticipated it. It would’ve gone differently if he weren’t sick. He’d haul himself up the kitchen counter, maybe. Tease Soobin even more from there. Revel in the added height it would give him, a few centimeters on Soobin’s already giant 185.
But Beomgyu’s laughing too hard it makes him cough. Slows him down enough for Soobin to catch him from behind, caging him into the wall by the entrance of their living room. He’s smiling in the I got you type of way, all smug and victorious.
It should annoy Beomgyu. He hates losing. But this type of losing is different. It means walking back to the bedroom, his fingers intertwined with Soobin’s. It means being asked what he wants to order for dinner, watching all his cravings slip straight into their cart: jjimdak and gamjatang and even two different flavors of bingsu—despite Soobin’s protests of bingsu’s too cold, you’re still sick, Beomgyu-yah. It’s their anniversary and Beomgyu knew Soobin would have to give in. And, secretly, Beomgyu only brought it up because he knows how much Soobin loves the dessert. Win-win situation.
There’s a fresh supply of Tylenol on the bedside table. Beomgyu pops a tablet in his mouth and downs it with a glass of water before he gets comfortable on the bed.
“Around forty minutes before the food gets here,” Soobin says from beside him. He has his glasses on, large black-rimmed ones. Beomgyu thinks he looks cute with them on. “Perfect timing, since I’m not that hungry yet.”
“Same here.” Beomgyu yawns. With how tired he is, it’s going to take a while for him to get out of bed once the food arrives. For now, though, he’s content like this, curled beside Soobin, his fingers toying with Soobin’s own. “I think we should keep the stepper in the shower,” Beomgyu mumbles, almost as an afterthought. “So handy, don’t you think? Showering is so much better when you’re seated.”
It was an unserious statement but Soobin laughs and Beomgyu feels it reverberate through his skin. “We’re getting a bathtub,” Soobin rolls over to tell him, eyes going all soft, “once we’re more financially stable. Now that’s a better plan, yeah?”
Beomgyu lets the idea wash over him. That would be fun. He’d always wanted a bathtub. They could buy those bath bombs and everything. Lay in the water after a particularly tiring day. He’s about to agree, but there’s only one problem: “It won’t fit in our bathroom, though. It’s too small.”
“Then we’ll move out,” Soobin says, without much of a pause. “We’ll find a bigger place, with a bathroom that can fit both a shower and a bathtub.”
He’s smiling, eager. His glasses have fallen a little lower down his nose. Beomgyu takes it back. Definitely not cute, he thinks. Soobin’s—
“Sexy,” Beomgyu blurts out. “You’re so hot when you’re talking about the future like this, hyung. Like you’re so sure of things, like you’re so sure of us.” Fuck, Beomgyu loves him. He loves Soobin a lot. His boyfriend. His, with all the nerdy musings and playful jabs and expertise on the perfect way to Beomgyu’s heart.
“Of course.” Soobin pulls Beomgyu nearer, his palm on Beomgyu’s back. They’re so close like this, Beomgyu almost goes cross-eyed when he stares at the tip of Soobin’s nose for a moment too long. It scrunches when he adds, “Never been more sure of anything else in my life, ever.”
“Me, too.” Beomgyu whispers. Soobin’s it for him. Always has been, always will be.