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Yeonjun has been staring at the clock above the classroom door for the last 15 minutes. At first, he limited the distraction to stolen glances every now and then, still trying to pay attention to his teacher and algebra. Now he’s just outright staring at the second hand as it ticks the time away.
Yeonjun is normally a good student. He may not be the smartest nor the best at any subject, but he pays attention and he asks questions to engage his teachers. But for today, he doesn’t think anyone can blame him for having his head in the clouds. He’s never been great at math, and he needs to exert a lot of extra effort just to pass his exams (he never wants to face his Kumon instructor again from the shame), and right now it seems like the letters and numbers are hellbent on mixing together into a jumbled mess he has no hope of understanding before class ends. Oh, well. It’s nothing he can’t try to piece together during cram school.
Behind him, Wooyoung catches his attention by nudging Yeonjun with pointed fingers. He tears his eyes away from the clock to glance at his teacher, whom he finds is looking at him sternly. Yeonjun immediately straightens his back and writes down the first thing he sees, and his teacher lets the issue go with an eyebrow raise, a solid tap on the board, and a pointed, “Pay attention, everyone. This will be on your exams.”
He breathes a muted sigh of relief. Being a social butterfly, even with his teachers, pays off sometimes. He gets away with things that students normally get called out for. So Yeonjun takes the small blessing for what it is and writes down everything he sees for the rest of the period even though nothing really sticks. He’ll have to ask Wooyoung what the hell happened during class.
As soon as the bell rings and they bid their teacher goodbye, Yeonjun lets out another sigh of relief, but louder this time. He slouches and bangs his head on the table, prompting a snicker from his friend.
“What’s up with you today, dude?” Wooyoung asks, shoving him from behind. “You spaced out almost the entire time. I’m surprised ssaem let you off the hook.”
“Nothing,” Yeonjun mutters into his desk, but he knows Wooyoung hears him. “Just feeling off today. No brain space for math. And ssaem let me off the hook because I’m their favorite.”
“Okay .” Despite not seeing his friend’s face, he just knows Wooyoung is rolling his eyes. “Well, lunch could probably make you feel better. Come on, keep your stuff and let’s go,” his friend orders, kicking the leg of Yeonjun’s chair for good measure. “I’m hungry.”
With that, Yeonjun realizes his stomach’s feeling a little empty as well. It seems that staring at a clock takes a lot out of a growing boy. Groaning, Yeonjun picks his head back up and unsticks his notebook from where it made a home on his forehead. Wooyoung laughs.
Yeonjun listens to his classmate make guesses about what lunch could be as he tucks his mostly-untouched notebook and pens back into his school bag. Taking his wallet out, he finally stands up.
“Took you long enough,” Wooyoung snarks, already walking towards the door.
While eating, Yeonjun asks about the lesson and Wooyoung laughs at him again, poking fun at his inability to focus. He promises Yeonjun that he can take photos of his notes later, though, so Yeonjun doesn’t really mind the teasing. Wooyoung brings up a new first-person shooter game that’s just been released, and although Yeonjun doesn’t really play video games much, his friend makes it interesting enough that he makes a mental note to look up gameplays and reviews on YouTube later.
When the conversation dies down to a natural lull, Yeonjun sips on another spoonful of kimchi jjigae. The peace doesn’t last long, however, because suddenly Wooyoung is kicking him under the table. He almost chokes on his soup because his foot lands dead-center on Yeonjun’s shin. He’d be impressed at the accuracy if it wasn’t so painful.
“Dude!” Yeonjun yelps, affronted. He drops his spoon with a clang and reaches down to clutch at his leg, glaring at his friend. “Why!”
Wooyoung glances at something above Yeonjun’s shoulder.
“Hyung,” a voice says from behind him.
“Beomgyu,” Yeonjun barely holds himself back from yelping again, almost giving himself whiplash with how fast he turns his head to look back. At the last second, he tries to pull himself together and modulate his voice into a calm, even tone, as if his shin isn’t throbbing right now. He’s pretty sure the spot will bruise. “Hey.”
His dongsaeng just raises an eyebrow barely seen behind the curtain of his bangs, and it’d be cute if it didn’t feel like he’s being judged. The calm facade isn’t working, then. Damn Wooyoung and his violence. As fast as the judging look appeared, though, it is also gone in a heartbeat. Now, Beomgyu is giving him the sweetest smile, the one where his dimple barely shows. It’s cute. Beomgyu’s cute, with his lunch tray in his hands, his floppy hair, and the smile that makes Yeonjun’s chest constrict. “Just wanted to say hi and ask if we’ll still hang out later?”
“Of course,” Yeonjun says. “I’ll meet you at the entrance as soon as class ends,” he promises.
“Okay!” Beomgyu tells him, full of energy. “I’ll see you then. Bye, hyung,” he tilts a shoulder in farewell, hands occupied with his meal and bounding over to his friends (Taehyun and Kai, he remembers Beomgyu mention a couple of times before) a few tables over.
As soon as the younger is out of hearing distance, Wooyoung kicks his shin again. In the same place.
“Dude!” Yeonjun whisper-yells, rubbing the spot tenderly. Now he’s a hundred percent sure that his leg will bruise. “Stop it!”
“That was sad, man,” Wooyoung tells him condescendingly, tsking and taking a big spoonful of rice. “Pretty pathetic, actually.”
Just because it’s the truth doesn’t mean it has to be spoken out loud. Yeonjun wants to strangle him. He tells him just as much. “And don’t talk with your mouth full!” He complains.
His traitor best friend just hums around his spoon, raising his eyebrows at him. Yeonjun is offended. As if Wooyoung doesn’t have an equally disgusting reaction whenever he sees his “friend” in the other class. Before Yeonjun brings his sappy crush up to embarrass him, though, Wooyoung loudly sets his spoon down and gives him an obscenely judgmental look.
“Yeonjun. My friend.”
“What.”
“What if,” his friend starts, clasping his hands on the table before him and putting on an air of faux wisdom. Yeonjun wants to smack him. “What if you just confess? Let’s say, hypothetically , you get your shit together and tell him how you feel. It will end your suffering. It will end my suffering. I can’t spend another minute seeing you like this! It makes me sad, bro.”
And therein lies the problem. In just one impossible sentence, Wooyoung has pointed out why Yeonjun cannot pay attention in his math class, or why Yeonjun has been sleeping fitfully for the past few weeks. It’s why he’s been acting weird around Beomgyu, and he knows Beomgyu has noticed but has kindly chosen not to say anything. Knowing the younger, though, it’s only a matter of time before he digs into Yeonjun to shake the answers out of him. Maybe even literally.
God. He can’t even think about it without wanting to rip his hair out and bang his head on the table. And he almost does, but Wooyoung smacks a palm to his forehead before it makes contact with the surface.
“I just said you looked pathetic, Jun. Normally I love it when I’m right and you’re wrong, but this ,” he gestures at Yeonjun’s entire being, “this is just sad to look at.”
“I know. You’ve mentioned that it’s sad at least twice already.” Yeonjun deadpans, swatting his friend’s hand away from his precious face and patting his bangs down from where Wooyoung messed them up.
“They hated Jesus for he told the truth,” his friend says with an air of superiority.
Yeonjun doesn’t even want to dignify that with a response. “And who are you to tell me to confess, huh? Weren’t you just whining the other day because—“
“I will have to cut you off there, my friend,” Wooyoung laughs and holds up a hand, but Yeonjun hears the tremble in his voice. Ha. Seems like his best friend can dish it but cannot take it. “We were talking about you and your problems. And since I am the bestest friend ever, I am giving you the bestest piece of advice.” His friend leans in and fake-whispers, “Just tell him. Maybe he likes you back.”
The devil’s words. He wonders how many broken hearts have been caused by that singular statement. He wonders if he’ll be the next one.
Yeonjun has to physically shake his head to ward off any delusional thoughts. Has to swallow down the desperate ‘do you really think so?’ threatening to spill from his tongue. He may be pathetic, but asking that is a different story. Miserably, he thunks his forehead against the metal table. It’s a bit cold, but it helps jolt him back into reality. “Fuck off, man.”
“I’m telling you!” His friend insists, poking the crown of Yeonjun’s head. “I have eyes, Jun. I may want to pluck them out of my head at the sight of you two, but it’s obviously mutual.”
“Stop it, Wooyoung,” he tells the table.
After a slight pause, Wooyoung takes the hint that Yeonjun wants the conversation over and relents, but his tone tells him that this is not the last time he will hear from his friend. “Fine. But get up. Finish your food, break’s over in a bit.”
With a heavy sigh, Yeonjun picks himself up and takes a peek at Beomgyu. He looks carefree, chatting about something with his friends, and Yeonjun wonders if he knows what he’s doing to him right now. Beomgyu laughs at something his friend says, and Yeonjun swears he lights up the entire room. Shitty fluorescent lights in cafeteria rooms have nothing on Beomgyu, it seems.
Yeonjun sighs again as he picks up his spoon and takes a sad sip of soup.
🦊📚🐻
Yeonjun’s family has a tradition.
Every summer break, for as long as Yeonjun can remember, they make the trip to California to visit their relatives over there. It’s fun; he loves the weather, he loves going to new places, and having his cousins talk to him helps with his English a lot.
Usually, his family stays for a week or two before flying back to Korea. But for their latest visit, his aunt offered for Yeonjun to stay for the entirety of his summer vacation. As a reward for doing well in school and dance, she had told his parents. Seeing as they had no reason to say no, Yeonjun was immediately given permission, and the decision was made.
When he told Beomgyu, the younger looked sad for a moment. Yeonjun couldn’t fault him. They’ve been spending all their summers together since they could walk. But Beomgyu was quick to mask his dismay, immediately slipping into a teasing grin while crossing his arms. In a haughty voice, he had told Yeonjun, “You have to bring home lots of souvenirs or this friendship is over, hyung.”
And that was it. For two sun-drenched months, Yeonjun whiled his break away in California. His cousins brought him to spots that he had never been before, considering the limitations during his previous visits. Time slipped through his fingertips like the sand from the beaches in San Antonio, and soon enough he was walking into school again. Tanner, taller, older, but not wiser.
Because if he were a wiser man, he’d have known how much two months can change a person. Then he’d have been more prepared for the sight of Beomgyu, two months from when he’d last seen him.
While in the States, Yeonjun and Beomgyu still talked semi-regularly. The time difference made it a bit difficult, but they squeezed in some short video calls here and there. Yeonjun sent him pictures of all the new sights, and Beomgyu replied with pictures of hangouts with his friends, plus a few memes and videos here and there. All-in-all, Yeonjun thought they kept up with each other pretty well.
Still. Yeonjun should have known better than to trust the quality of smartphone cameras. He had never been more aware of the difference between pictures and real life up until then. Right then and there, as his eyes landed on Beomgyu, he declared smartphones to be traitors to mankind.
Because Beomgyu—his sweet little boba ball Beomgyu—had grown up. His height shot up several centimeters, and his voice went down a few octaves. His jawline seemed more pronounced. His hair was longer; it seemed like he dyed it a deep shade of brown, the change barely noticeable but the change was still there. His uniform fit his shoulders better now, too. And was that a fucking auricle piercing? Yeonjun felt a few years shaved off his lifespan at the sheer shock from all the changes.
And as if the threat to his life wasn’t enough, it all had to happen in slow fucking motion. The moment Beomgyu laid eyes on Yeonjun, his face lit up in a grin and his hand rose up to grab his attention. As if Yeonjun could even register anything else. It was like a scene out of the B-rated romantic comedies his mother liked to watch on Netflix when she finished all the chores already and had nothing else to do.
As soon as he reached Yeonjun, Beomgyu engulfed him in a warm hug.
“You’re back!” Beomgyu had exclaimed into the crook of Yeonjun’s neck. His arms were wrapped tight at the small of Yeonjun’s back, and his hands were clutching at the thin material of Yeonjun’s button-down. His hair tickled at Yeonjun’s ear. Belatedly, he noted that Beomgyu seemed to have changed his perfume, too, but his shampoo (some kind of floral scent Yeonjun never knew the name of) is still the same. “I missed you.”
Beomgyu was everywhere. He was invading all of Yeonjun’s senses, overloading his synapses and forcing everything to work in overdrive. In his brain, a mini Yeonjun sounded an alarm, and all the other mini Yeonjuns were running around in a panic, and there was paper flying everywhere, and the place was on fire. His face was on fire.
It’s only been two months, Yeonjun had thought desperately while wrapping his arms around Beomgyu’s waist and hugging him back. What the fuck.
🦊📚🐻
Yeonjun’s birthday passes without fanfare as he enjoys a simple celebration with his family and friends (and with Beomgyu, of course). The leaves color themselves in shades of amber and carmine, and in the blink of an eye, half of the semester passes him by.
He may now be a year older, but he still doesn’t claim to know a lot of the things that supposedly come with age. Nor does he even attempt to figure out what his purpose in life is, but if he knows one thing, it’s this: he was put on Earth just to suffer at the hands of Choi Beomgyu. He just knows it.
(And Yeonjun has been suffering. A lot. Beomgyu’s actual hands have majorly contributed to his woes, too. Especially when he strums at his guitar lazily, with no song in mind as he hums something unintelligible with his sweet voice. But Yeonjun digresses.)
Yeonjun has spent the better part of a decade of his life with Beomgyu. How is he now only noticing how long his eyelashes are? Whenever they study together at the library and Beomgyu is studiously reading over his notes for the day, Yeonjun spends his time and energy trying to count each and every eyelash instead of going over his algebra equations; he knows it’s impossible, but his mother did not raise a quitter. Plus, it's not his fault that Beomgyu’s eyelashes intrigue him more than math, okay? And objectively, he knows Beomgyu is tall, especially since his summer growth spurt, but why does he look so tiny every time he asks Yeonjun to reach for a book on the top shelf? He doesn’t think the science he’s learning in class can explain that phenomenon.
And how has Yeonjun never paid attention to the fluffiness of his cheeks as he takes the tiniest bites of his tteokbokki, or to the way his lips pout prettily as he asked the vendor to give them three servings (one for him, two for Yeonjun)? He files these under the open later for further dissection folder in his brain. He feels slighted and blindsided and honestly quite offended by his own ignorance. Still, there’s no use agonizing over it now when Beomgyu is lifting up a piece of his own tteokbokki with a stick and is urging Yeonjun to take a bite.
“Eat,” Beomgyu tells him, prodding at his lips with the rice cake. “I know you’re still hungry. You just inhaled your tteokbokki like it was nothing.”
Absentmindedly, Yeonjun leans forward to take the piece into his mouth, but he truly should have known better. As soon as the rice cake touches his bottom lip, Beomgyu moves the stick away. He laughs at his own antics, and Yeonjun feels the all-too-familiar annoyance creep into his system.
Somehow, the feeling floods him with relief. Thank God. He’s not broken, then.
He’d been feeling too soft around Beomgyu lately, and knowing that his dongsaeng can still effortlessly get his temper rising and his blood pumping is a reassurance that although things have changed, they haven’t changed too much.
“Yah,” he warns, grabbing Beomgyu’s wrist to prevent any further teasing. Quickly, he snaps up the offending piece of rice cake before Beomgyu could free himself from Yeonjun’s grip.
“You’re no fun,” Beomgyu whines at him, but feeds Yeonjun another piece nonetheless. He follows it up with another bite for himself, and the rice cake leaves a streak of the bright red-orange sauce on his lips.
“Oh,” Beomgyu says, feeling the wet smear. He looks up at Yeonjun, an extremely familiar look in his eyes. Mischief. This does not bode well for Yeonjun’s sanity. “Won’t you wipe it off, hyung?”
Inwardly, Yeonjun sighs. The director of his life is just messing with him at this point. “Come here,” he tells the younger.
Beomgyu tilts his head, clearly not expecting Yeonjun to rise to the bait, but steps closer nevertheless. They’re already barely a step away from each other, and Yeonjun slides his palm to the back of Beomgyu’s head to pull him even closer. He thinks he hears Beomgyu let out the quietest gasp, but he can’t be sure over the feeling of cotton in his own ears. He also feels him grasp the sleeve of Yeonjun’s uniform with two fingers as if holding on for stability.
He tries (and fails) to not let the touch affect him too much. Beomgyu always does this—toying with Yeonjun’s sleeves, fiddling with the material of his shorts, or pinching the skin of his elbow. Always near and always touching. Yeonjun tries not to give meaning to the actions. Friends do that all the time, don’t they?
With his free hand, Yeonjun crumples up a piece of tissue and wipes Beomgyu’s lips with it. Hard. This is payback for both the teasing and all the suffering Yeonjun has gone through the past few weeks.
Take that, Beomgyu. Even if he doesn’t know why he’s being attacked with two-ply tissue.
To Yeonjun’s surprise, Beomgyu doesn’t even retaliate or try to squirm away; he just laughs and continues to chew on his tteokbokki.
He’s so annoying, but damn if he isn’t so cute. Yeonjun doesn’t even try to hide his fond smile as he lets him go, crumpling the tissue in his palm. “Eat some more, Gyu-yah.”
“I’m full now, though,” the younger tells him, even though there are still a few pieces left in his container.
“Eat up,” Yeonjun insists, tapping the bottom of the paper bowl for emphasis. “You eat like a bird. Not even a big bird. You’re like those baby ones that have to be fed by their moms.”
“But I said I’m already full,” Beomgyu repeats more insistently, shaking his head and pushing the container from his hands into Yeonjun’s. “Finish this for me, hyung.”
The sad thing is Yeonjun doesn’t even find it in him to insist anymore, because Beomgyu has hit him with his signature pleading look—the one where he starts peering up at Yeonjun from under his bangs and his voice pitches up into a whine. He knows it’s all just an act, that Beomgyu is purposefully making himself cuter and more annoying, but Yeonjun dreads the day that the younger figures out exactly how much power this holds over him.
“Fine,” he relents. “But have one more.” He stabs into a piece and holds it out for Beomgyu to take.
“Okay,” he agrees happily. He wraps his fingers around Yeonjun’s wrist and snaps up the tteokbokki. Yeonjun’s wrist burns at the contact, which he knows makes zero sense because autumn has already settled in, and the temperature is dropping day by day.
Oh, well. Nothing really makes sense anymore.
(That’s a lie. Yeonjun knows, deep down in the farthest crevices of himself, that nothing makes more sense than him falling in love with Beomgyu.)
🦊📚🐻
Yeonjun has decided. He can’t live like this anymore. He can’t continuously pine for his friend. And he’s always been the kind of person to go after what he wants, and what he wants is to be with Beomgyu as more than just a friend.
Boyfriends?
Yeonjun doesn’t even want to think of that word. He can’t hide the smile that shows on his face whenever he does, and it makes him too giddy. Wooyoung has already called him out multiple times for looking like a fond, lovestruck fool.
After finishing his homework for the day, Yeonjun tucks his materials away, puts his head in his hands, and tries to brainstorm. Beomgyu is a hopeless romantic. It’s as true as the fact that the sun is hot, the sky is blue, and Yeonjun is in love with him. He’s warm and sweet, like a comforting cup of hot chocolate in the winter. Beomgyu is the most sentimental person he knows, and he’s kind and thoughtful, too. How do you even confess to someone as perfect as that?
Yeonjun takes his head out of his hands and taps his phone on; the experts would know better than he does. Immediately, the screen lights up and shows the face that’s been taking up most, if not all, of his brain space. He cannot escape—Beomgyu is everywhere.
(He ignores the fact that Beomgyu being his wallpaper is his own fault. A while back, Yeonjun was busily poring over his English grammar notes for a quiz the next day, but Beomgyu was already finished with his own work. Unable to annoy Yeonjun into paying attention to him, Beomgyu turned his attention instead to Yeonjun’s phone and took maybe a hundred photos of himself, Yeonjun, and other random things. Afterward, Yeonjun was surprised to find that Beomgyu set a picture of himself in a fighting! pose as Yeonjun’s home and lock screen, cheekily saying that if Yeonjun ever needed strength and inspiration, he never had to look too far.
Yeonjun never changed it back.)
Smiling like an idiot at Beomgyu’s winking face, he goes to Naver and types in, I want to confess to my best friend of almost a decade.
On the first link he clicks, he is directed to a page from a famous question-and-answer website. The anonymous asker posted: “Should I confess my love for my best friend?”
The top answer says: “That depends on if you’re ready to deal with the consequences.” Then they proceed to narrate, point by excruciating point, the disaster of their confession when it turned out that their friend did not actually like them back, despite all the signs pointing to yes.
Yeonjun winces. What a great start. He clicks out of the article and taps on another one. This list promises instructions on how to tell your best friend you love them. Yeonjun eagerly sets out on skimming the page, but what he sees at the start makes his palms go cold.
- Realize that this could change your friendship permanently.
- Realize that rejection is a serious possibility.
- Realize that romantic feelings can change over time.
Going into this, he thought that he’d be given cheesy ideas and encouraging anecdotes. Why are all the articles so negative, then? As if he doesn’t already know these things! As if he hasn’t spent many sleepless nights tossing and turning in bed, messing up his carefully-tucked sheets, wondering if he should push through with this. Would Beomgyu want to know how Yeonjun feels? Would he get mad at Yeonjun for ruining their friendship? But Beomgyu deserves to know that he’s loved; Yeonjun needs him to know that he’s loved.
Yeonjun is not dum, nor does he ever do anything half-assedly, so he has thought this through. As afraid as he is of getting rejected, Yeonjun knows that their friendship is stronger than that. Even if his feelings are not returned, he knows Beomgyu would never pull away from him, nor would he allow their bond to change, because he’s kind and he’s considerate and—
He forcibly veers away from that well-traversed train of thought. If his brain had pathways, that particular one would be trodden down into nothing but dust. Waxing poetic about Beomgyu’s best traits will not help him. He goes back to the Naver results and taps on another article that talks about the current trends in dating culture. He skims through the introduction and lands on something that piques his interest.
September 17, also known as Confession Day. Apparently, people confess on that particular date because if the confession is successful, then the newly-minted couple’s 100-day anniversary will fall on Christmas.
Now that feels like something someone as sentimental as Beomgyu would appreciate. Yeonjun quickly takes note, except his eyes land on today’s date.
September 17 is already a few weeks past. In the rush of school, he forgot. He quickly gives it up and types in another entry: confession ideas.
As soon as the results page loads in, Yeonjun is bombarded with link upon link of websites boasting of everything from confession ideas to the hottest date spots. But he’s a simple man, so he clicks on the first one he sees, where the author states that a confession letter is a classic way to profess one’s feelings to their object of affection.
Yeonjun almost cringes. A love letter is the most cliche confession tactic, but if it works in the dramas, then it must work for him, right?
Right?
Ah, whatever. He can’t entertain any thoughts about things going sideways because his mom did not raise a pessimist.
He drafts up a simple letter.
Dear Beomgyu,
I like you a lot. I wanted to tell you in person, but I could never find the right timing.
If you want to meet me, I’ll be waiting at the third-floor stairwell after school.
Yeonjun stares at his own handwriting. If he wants to sound like a fucking creep, then this is the way to go. He crumples the paper and throws it into his wastebasket.
That’s a no on the love letter, then.
He turns back to his phone and scrolls further down. The article suggests making a scrapbook containing pictures and memories of him and Beomgyu together. It’s a cute idea, but Beomgyu has always been the one with an eye for decoration between the two of them. Yeonjun? Not so much.
The author also writes that Yeonjun can try to cook, paint, or sing for Beomgyu, give him a flower bouquet, or present a gift that reminds Yeonjun of him. As great as all the ideas are, Yeonjun just can’t help but think of all the ways any of those can go wrong. Beomgyu deserves perfection, and Yeonjun wants to give him everything he deserves.
He almost gives up until he sees the last item written in the article.
If you’re the brave kind, tell the person you like face to face. People appreciate honesty.
Remember that grand declarations of affection don’t mean much if the thought behind them can’t be felt. Sometimes, the simplest confessions can be the most effective.
Just tell him. The idea sounds insane, and right now, nothing is scaring Yeonjun more than the thought of walking up to Beomgyu, looking him in the eye, and confessing that he likes him. But Yeonjun has never shied away from the things that scare him, and the desire to let Beomgyu know overpowers any hesitation he has.
Finally, an idea pops up in Yeonjun’s head.
🦊📚🐻
wanna go to the park on friday after class?
why?
Before Yeonjun could even panic and come up with an excuse, his phone dings once more.
[thumbs up emoji]
🦊📚🐻
Cold. His fingers are so fucking cold.
He thinks they might be shaking, but he grips his pen tighter and tries to at least pretend-write his notes. Tries not to glance every minute at the clock because surprise, surprise—time doesn’t make concessions for nervous high school kids who want to tell their best friends they love them.
He listens to his teacher discuss the wholly exciting topic of alkanes, alkenes, and alkynes, but everything goes into one ear and out the other. There is just no way Yeonjun can absorb anything from this class. Thank god it’s his last for the day because if he had to sit through another one, he might just vibrate out of his seat from the nerves.
Yeonjun rolls his pen between his fingers, any pretense of writing gone. He’ll have to enlist Wooyoung’s help again.
Tick-tock. He may be imagining it, but he swears he hears the clock purposefully slow down as it ticks closer and closer to his demise.
(Or it can just be a countdown to the happiest moment of your life , his traitor of a brain suggests.
Shut up, he tells it back.)
After a few minutes of pen-rolling, foot-tapping, and leg-jiggling, the school bell sounds, and Yeonjun has never put his stuff away faster in his life.
He is slinging a backpack on one shoulder when someone taps the other. Yeonjun turns around and is faced with an uncharacteristically serious Wooyoung.
“I’m rooting for you, Jun,” he tells him. The contrast between his face and what he’s talking about leaves Yeonjun snorting out a short laugh, feeling some of his nerves dissipate. Immediately, the previous look slips off of his friend’s face and is replaced by a smile. “I’m serious! I just want you to be happy,” he insists, shoving Yeonjun lightly.
“I know, darling,” Yeonjun tells him, sighing. “But I really feel like I’m going to die right now.”
“You can’t die. If you’re dead then you won’t be able to confess and Beomgyu will be sad. Because you’re dead. Do you really want your boy to be sad, Yeonjun? Is that the kind of man you are?”
(He’ll never admit it, but secretly, he feels butterflies erupt in his stomach whenever Wooyoung refers to Beomgyu as his. He knows Beomgyu is not an object and, therefore, cannot be anyone’s, but the thought still warms him from the inside out.
Earlier in the day, Beomgyu dropped by his room in between classes to make sure that they were still meeting after school was over. Yeonjun was too busy chatting with his friends that Wooyoung caught sight of Beomgyu first.
“Your boy’s here to see you, Jun,” Wooyoung had teased, pushing Yeonjun harshly enough that he almost toppled from the desk he was leaning on.
Yeonjun could only glare at him as he walked towards where Beomgyu was waiting outside his classroom door. Beomgyu was snickering as he teased Yeonjun about his almost-fall, and they confirmed that yes, they would still be going to the park later.
“Dude, I don’t think you know your own strength. You’re too fucking obvious!” Yeonjun had scolded his friend after he walked back inside. “And don’t call him my boy!”
Wooyoung had rolled his eyes at Yeonjun. “Am I really so obvious if your face is already doing all the exposing for you, Jun? And besides, Beomgyu’s really obvious, too! You’re made for each other.”
His so-called friend was saved from his wrath by one of his classmates, Yewon, speaking up. “Your friend’s really cute, Yeonjun. I always see you guys hanging out. Are you two together? ”
Yeonjun could hear Wooyoung cackling in the background as he sputtered and denied that no, we’re not a couple.
Yewon just shrugged. “You guys make such a cute pair, though.”
In his head, Yeonjun agreed. Hopefully, the next time someone asked him the same question, he would be able to say yes.)
“That’s the worst pep talk I have ever heard,” Yeonjun deadpans. “Really, were you even trying?”
“You hurt me with your ungratefulness,” Wooyoung counters. He steps closer and grabs Yeonjun by the shoulders to shake him. “You don’t even have to worry about anything! You’re Choi Yeonjun, aren’t you?”
Yeonjun sucks in a breath and repeats with conviction, “I’m Choi Yeonjun.”
“You like Choi Beomgyu.”
“I like Choi Beomgyu.”
“And you’re going to confess to him.”
“And I’m going to confess to him,” Yeonjun parrots weakly. He clutches at his friend’s arm for support because he feels his knees about to give out. “Oh my god, I’m going to confess to him.”
Wooyoung probably feels him about to chicken out and turns him around to march him towards the door. For good measure, he also pushes him outside of the room. “I do not want to hear from you until you get yourself a boyfriend, do you understand?”
Yeonjun nods frantically because he actually feels his heart in his fucking throat, rendering him unable to speak.
“Now go,” Wooyoung gives him another push, harder this time, and Yeonjun barely stops himself from tripping over his own feet.
But he remembers that he’s Choi Yeonjun, so he pulls himself together, summons all the confidence he usually has, and stands up straight. Walks like the school hallway is his own personal runway, even though his hands are still shaking where one is hidden in his pocket and the other is clutching at the strap of his bag, hard enough that he’s sure his knuckles are white. Fake it ‘til you make it, or so that one English saying he remembers his cousin teaching him goes.
He’s got this.
🦊📚🐻
Despite the initial negativity of the pages Yeonjun visited during his brainstorming session, some of them did make decent points. Yeonjun made a list of the best ones—the first one on his list is to bring Beomgyu somewhere private, but not too isolated. Hence, the park they’ve been going to since they were kids.
He speedwalks to the school entrance. Students from all grades are still milling about the grounds despite the bell having rung a while back, probably talking about after-school plans of karaoke or PC cafes with their friends. Some of Yeonjun’s friends from other classes try to say hi to him, but Yeonjun is too keyed up to give more than a halfhearted wave as he makes his way to where he sees Beomgyu leaning on a pillar near the entryway.
“Yo, BG!” He calls out as he weaves through students, and Beomgyu looks up from his phone with a smile, pocketing it as he turns towards Yeonjun. “Ready to go?”
“Hi,” Beomgyu greets, clutching at the straps of his backpack as he matches his stride to Yeonjun’s.
They chat about their respective days as they make their way to the park. Half of Yeonjun’s brain is focused on Beomgyu and his voice as he recounts a funny incident that happened with his classmates, but half of him is hyperfocused on everything else. This close, he can smell Beomgyu’s perfume, and it’s driving him crazy. He notices that they’re walking so close together that their jackets are touching, making a rustling noise whenever they brush against each other. He feels like his bag is getting heavier with each step they take, all of his frazzled thoughts and unconfessed feelings weighing him down.
Before he knows it, they’re at the park. A few other students are littered across the space, clearly having the same idea as the two of them, but they find a free bench in no time. Upon closer look though, most of the other park visitors seem to be in pairs, too close to be anything but couples. Oh, Yeonjun thinks.
They sit and Yeonjun places his backpack next to him, and to his right, Beomgyu instinctively leans his head on Yeonjun’s shoulder, letting out an audible sigh as he settles in. Always touching , Yeonjun recalls desperately. They sit in silence for a few minutes, appreciating the quietness of their surroundings, until Yeonjun can’t take it anymore. He’s about to burst. But as soon as he opens his mouth and takes a deep breath in preparation for his speech (it’s an item on the list, so it’s essential ), he hears Beomgyu ask, “This is nice and all, but why are we here, hyung?”
For a second, Yeonjun panics. But he takes another deep breath and forces himself to calm down. He cannot afford to fuck this up. Out of everything in Yeonjun’s life that he has wanted, this is the one thing that he seriously cannot jinx.
“Beomgyu,” he begins, looking straight ahead, eyes fixating on the birds pecking at leftover crumbs on the ground. He makes sure to use the calmest and most soothing voice he can muster because that’s also part of the list. He doesn’t want to scare Beomgyu.
The younger only hums in acknowledgment, patiently waiting for Yeonjun to gather his thoughts. Yeonjun attempts to subtly wipe his palms on his trousers.
Ah, fuck it. Nerves do not suit him.
“I like you,” he says. No use beating around the bush. He knows Beomgyu probably already knows, anyway. Yeonjun is as subtle as a gunshot. Always looking, always fretting, always, always touching. Still, he feels Beomgyu tense beside him and hears a sharp inhale.
Yeonjun continues, “We’ve been friends for such a long time, Gyu, and it took me so long to realize that the time we spend together is when I’m happiest. I actually like doing my homework because it means I get to have a few more hours with you. And I care about you more than a friend should. It drives me insane how much I want to take care of you.”
“Hyung,” Beomgyu starts, and Yeonjun feels the weight of his head lift from his shoulder. Alarmed, he looks over to the younger and grabs at one of his hands with both of his.
“Please let me finish, Gyu-yah,” he pleads. “Please?”
With wide doe eyes directed at him, Beomgyu nods.
“I think—no, I know— that you’re the prettiest person I’ve ever seen, and the kindest, too. I can’t stop looking at you, and your smile, and I know we’re almost the same height but I can’t help thinking how adorable you look all the time and how much I want to wrap you in a hug and never let go.”
With Beomgyu’s eyes on him, Yeonjun is on a roll. The list also told him to be honest. Now that he’s here, with Beomgyu looking at him as he clutches his hand, it’s the easiest thing in the world.
“I like you. I think I’ve liked you for a while now, but I only just realized when I got back this summer. And if you don’t like me back, I promise that it’s okay and nothing will change between us, but I still want to give you this,” Yeonjun lets go of Beomgyu’s hand and reaches for his bag. He unzips it and carefully takes out the small flower bouquet of lilacs that he bought yesterday for Beomgyu. He had asked the shop's staff for something that meant first love , blushing madly the entire time. For the entire day, he had painstakingly avoided crushing the thing in his backpack. He digs a little deeper and unearths the colorful bracelet he made with some help from his mom, with the letters BG and a small bear charm nestled among the beads. Colorful, because that’s how Beomgyu makes him feel.
“These are for you,” he presents. “You don’t have to give me a yes or no yet, but they told me that I should give you a gift to express my feelings, so I just wanted to give you something I made that would remind you of me.” Yeonjun realizes what he just said and immediately backtracks. “If you want to be reminded of me. After all this.”
“Oh, Yeonjunnie hyung,” Beomgyu takes the gifts delicately, marveling over the fresh flowers and the bracelet. He slips it on his wrist, and Yeonjun tries to tamp down the heart attack at the action’s implications. “I love them.”
“Really?” he asks. Just to be sure.
“Really,” Beomgyu confirms softly.
Yeonjun sighs in relief and is readying himself for Beomgyu’s response, more than willing to give him the space he may need to digest Yeonjun’s rambling, but suddenly he feels Beomgyu hit his shoulder.
“What was that for!” Yeonjun yelps, because Beomgyu did not hold back with that punch, wow. He rubs at the spot. What is it with his friends and violence?
“Took you long enough!” Beomgyu exclaims, setting the bouquet on his lap and crossing his arms. “You’re an idiot.”
“Yah, Choi Beomgyu, I’m still your hy—”
Beomgyu ignores him and steamrolls over his would-be tirade about being older and the importance of respect. “As if I wouldn’t like you back, silly hyung. I don’t act like this with all of my friends, you know!”
Yeonjun’s complaints die on his tongue. “You like me?” He repeats, dazed.
At this, Beomgyu softens. He fiddles with his new bracelet and seems to be avoiding looking Yeonjun in the eye. His ears are turning red at the edges. Yeonjun wants to pinch them. “I like you.”
In all his planning, Yeonjun never got to the part where Beomgyu tells him he likes him back. Past Yeonjun thought that he could wing it whenever he got to that point. Present Yeonjun kind of wants to shake some sense into past Yeonjun for being so cocky, because now he doesn’t know what to do.
Thankfully, Beomgyu doesn’t seem to have the same problem. The soft look in his eyes is immediately replaced by a much more familiar one. This look fills Yeonjun with dread. “I’m the prettiest person you’ve ever seen, huh?”
Relief floods Yeonjun’s system. This is familiar. This is Beomgyu and Yeonjun. “Out of everything I said, that’s what you remember?”
“Don’t worry, hyung, I also remember that you can’t stop looking at me. Or at my smile. And that you want to take ca—”
Yeonjun slaps a hand over Beomgyu’s mouth as he feels heat creep up his neck and into his cheeks. He did say all of those things, but hearing them come from Beomgyu fills him with embarrassment at how cheesy he was. “Please stop.”
Beomgyu licks his palm. Yeonjun almost shrieks, pulling his hand away, but he holds it in at the last millisecond. “Gross, Beoms! Don’t lick my hand, there’s hand cream on there!”
“Who’s they, by the way?” Beomgyu asks him suddenly while Yeonjun is wiping his palm on his trousers. “Who told you to give me a gift?”
For the nth time that day, Yeonjun blushes. “The websites,” he mutters, avoiding Beomgyu’s eyes and hoping he doesn’t catch his words. From the cackle beside him, hoping was futile.
“You looked up how to confess to me?” Beomgyu coos, getting all up in his face to make Yeonjun look at him again. “Hyung, you are too cute. I like you so much.”
Yeonjun wants to combust at the mix of emotions swirling in him. There’s a dash of shyness there, a lot of relief, and a hint of pleased pride. But top it all off, trumping over every other emotion, he’s just really, really happy.
Once Yeonjun’s face has cooled and Beomgyu’s cackles faded into giggles and soft smiles, they spend a bit more time in the park. Beomgyu, once again, has his head on Yeonjun’s shoulder. The only difference this time is that Yeonjun is also leaning his head on Beomgyu’s. Beomgyu had linked their pinkies together sometime in the past hour, with their connected hands resting on Yeonjun’s lap, and Yeonjun is hyper-aware of every point of contact. Always touching, and it makes something inside Yeonjun settle like coming home.
They talk about anything and everything. In his head, Yeonjun thinks his knees would have given out in relief with the fact that they’re talking and acting the same as before if he weren’t already seated. But he also thinks that YJ and BG are still gonna be YJ and BG, even with love confessions and pinky-holding.
They talk until the sun bathes the world in hues of pink and purple, but decide to head back once the temperature drops noticeably.
As they walk towards their houses, Yeonjun offers to carry Beomgyu’s bag, but Beomgyu refuses and laughs because he can do it for himself.
“But that's how they do it in the dramas,” Yeonjun mumbles.
Beomgyu smiles at him. “We’re not in a drama, hyung.” But he lets Yeonjun hook his index finger into the loop of his backpack to alleviate the weight a little bit. It’s only a small gesture, but the way Beomgyu bites his lip and looks away in shyness is uncharacteristic, but definitely not unwelcome, if the way Yeonjun’s heart wants to beat out of his chest is any indication.
As the sunset fades into the night, they arrive at Beomgyu’s house. Yeonjun doesn’t even have time to say anything because as quick as lightning, Beomgyu pinches the sleeve of Yeonjun’s uniform and leans up a little bit. He drops a kiss as light as a cherry blossom petal right at the apple of Yeonjun’s cheek. As sneaky as a thief, Beomgyu smiles at him—the mischievous smile that makes him look like he has a trick under his sleeve and is not afraid to use it. Before Yeonjun knows it, Beomgyu is slipping into his home’s front door, telling him cheekily, “Bye, hyung. I’ll see you tomorrow,” before closing it in his face.
Yeonjun touches the spot where Beomgyu just kissed him. It was the lightest touch, shy and feather-soft, but Yeonjun feels his face burning.
Huh.
Yeonjun turns around and starts walking in the direction of his own house. Soon enough, as if on autopilot, Yeonjun is toeing off his shoes, greeting his mom hello, and going up to his room. Shuts the door behind him and flops onto his bed. Messages Beomgyu that he made it home safely.
Barely a minute after, Beomgyu responds with a cheering bear sticker.
After a moment's hesitation, he tentatively follows up with an “are we gonna talk about it?”
talk about?
He hates him a little bit for making Yeonjun type it out.
you know
the kiss
oh
what do you want to talk about?
why did you do it last-minute like that ㅠ
hyung
you’re so cute
my heart can’t take it ㅋㅋ
Yeonjun lets the compliment seep into him, filling him with more warmth than his house’s thermostat could ever give, but doesn’t let it deter him from making his point.
i froze because you surprised me
i couldve maybe
kissed you back
if you wanted me to
if you didn’t go away so soon
Yeonjun feels his face burn even hotter at how embarrassing those words are to type out, but he needs Beomgyu to know. Yeonjun needs him to know with everything in him.
In all his years of living, nothing could have prepared Yeonjun for the heart attack Beomgyu’s reply gives him.
kiss me back tomorrow, then
He follows it up with another bear sticker, this one with its cheeks red and its lips pouty. It reminds Yeonjun of a winter-flushed Beomgyu, all bundled up in multiple layers to fend off the biting cold. God.
Would it be too embarrassing if he screams into his pillow?
Doesn’t matter. No one sees him do it anyway.
Yeonjun smiles into his sheets. He’s gonna see Beomgyu tomorrow. Maybe even kiss him, if Beomgyu wants to. If it doesn’t happen tomorrow, it’s alright, too. Yeonjun is in no rush.
They have the rest of autumn, and winter as well. And they will have spring, and Yeonjun will make sure that they have all the days of summer, too. All the seasons after that, if Yeonjun has any say in the matter.
They have all the time. There is no rush.