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Yeonjun never thought there would be days like this. This, being:
A warm meal. Hands intertwined over the kitchen table. Hushed and easy conversation of how was your day? did you have a good one?
(The food isn’t homemade because Beomgyu’s skills in the kitchen warrant a needs improvement sticker. Their clasped hands kind of make it inconvenient to eat. Sometimes, the answer is no .
But still. Still— )
In front of him, and in between bites, Beomgyu regales Yeonjun with tales about his most recently played video game. He’s ranting about a legendary boss he couldn’t kill, and how he’ll have to look up other people’s gameplays on YouTube for tips. Yeonjun doesn’t understand a single thing as Beomgyu talks about potions and move sets, but his boyfriend’s voice is his favorite sound in the world. He can’t help the smile that blooms on his face as he stares at Beomgyu, extremely endeared at how expressive he is.
Noticing how he’s gone silent, Beomgyu shakes their intertwined fingers. Yeonjun tightens his grasp to let Beomgyu know he’s paying attention. At that, Beomgyu is satisfied, and he continues on.
Yeonjun has a confession: he used to dream of days like this. Kept this secret close to his heart where no one else could see, where no one could tell him that it was unrealistic.
People always ask him what his dreams are—the question comes from friends, family, and even interviewers who are practically strangers. What are the goals you want to achieve for now? Where do you want to be in a few years’ time?
He has a list of canned (but not ingenuine) answers, wishes that grew bigger as the years passed and he grew older. Aspirations like these: be an idol. Write lyrics that would resonate with people. Top the charts, maybe. Hold concerts with his friends-turned-family.
The Yeonjun of a few years ago would have never dared to dream of days like this, but hopes and desires are uncontrollable, untameable, and this one grew wings big and strong enough to escape from where he’d been keeping it close.
And now this desire has manifested itself in Choi Beomgyu. His Beomgyu, now.
Yeonjun never would have dared to dream of this, but he’s thankful that Beomgyu is more of a dreamer than he is. He is forever grateful that Beomgyu was as scared as he was, but was as brave as Yeonjun wanted to be.
(He will never tell Beomgyu that.)
(Or maybe he will. Later on, in the quiet of the night when the world and Beomgyu are fast asleep, Yeonjun will bring him close and whisper thank you into his hair, unheard by anyone and anything aside from himself.)
After finishing their grand dinner of takeout, they wash the dishes together. Beomgyu is on rinsing and soaping duty, Yeonjun is in-charge of drying. Beomgyu insists that Yeonjun should go shower now, but it’s been a long day, and he wants to spend the rest of it glued to Beomgyu’s side. When he tells the younger that, he rolls his eyes, but smiles that pleased little grin that comes out when Yeonjun says something sweet. Beomgyu, although endeared, is still Beomgyu, so he bumps his hip into Yeonjun’s and says, “that’s so corny, hyung. Come up with better lines.”
Yeonjun pouts in mock offense and flicks water at him. Beomgyu, again, being Beomgyu, screams. None of the other members even pop out of their rooms to see what the commotion is all about.
It’s a typical day. He’s giddy at the thought.
After they clear their mess, Beomgyu tells him to go shower again, but this time he’s coming with.
“‘M kinda tired, baby,” Yeonjun says slowly, hesitantly, but he tries to inject an apology into his tone. Normally he’d jump at the thought of Beomgyu and him in a steamy, enclosed space, but he is exhausted from his packed schedule and he doesn’t know if he’d be any fun in that setting.
Beomgyu rolls his eyes at him again. “I know that, hyung, I have eyes. So let’s go clean up now. The sooner we finish, the sooner you can rest.”
Yeonjun doesn’t know what Beomgyu’s trying to achieve, but a bossy Beomgyu is a cute Beomgyu, and the long day has made him crave close contact even more than usual, so he just shrugs it off and lets himself be walked towards their shared bathroom with his boyfriend’s hand clasped around his wrist.
The bathroom is truly too small for two grown men, but Beomgyu is undeterred as he fiddles with the knob, bottom lip bitten in unnecessary concentration as he turns it. He waves his hand under the steady stream before declaring it as the perfect temperature, just the way Yeonjun likes. He’s still holding onto Yeonjun’s wrist, his thumb rubbing softly over his skin, and Yeonjun is in love.
Beomgyu shifts his gaze towards him, but he lets go of his hold on Yeonjun to take off his shirt in a smooth motion and moves to take off his sweatpants and boxers, too. Yeonjun is still a healthy man in his 20s, so he may have been staring a little bit, but Beomgyu shatters his daze by splashing some water onto him. Yeonjun splutters and wipes the droplets off his face.
“Perv. What are you waiting for?” He asks, hands on his hips and water currently flattening his hair onto his forehead.
“Fine, fine,” he relents, undressing under Beomgyu’s watchful gaze. “A man can’t look at his boyfriend now?”
“He can’t if he’s leaving his boyfriend cold and lonely and waiting,” Beomgyu declares, pulling Yeonjun into his space as soon as he’s got nothing on. Yeonjun doesn’t even comment on the fact that the water is nowhere near cold, and how he didn’t even have to wait 30 seconds. Beomgyu is dramatic, the sky is blue, the grass is green, et cetera. He just shakes his head minutely, closes his eyes and leans his head back, and lets the pressure of the shower wash away any remnants of his day.
Behind him, Beomgyu moves around, and the telltale sound of a shampoo bottle clicking open resounds in the enclosed space. Yeonjun opens his mouth to ask him to pass it over but before he could, he feels Beomgyu move closer, the warmth of his front on Yeonjun’s back. With a hushed voice, he asks, “Can I?”
Yeonjun turns around and meets Beomgyu’s eye. His gaze is earnest, and who is Yeonjun to deny him of this small thing? “Okay,” he agrees and turns back around, offering his hair to Beomgyu.
Immediately, Beomgyu’s hands thread into his hair, spreading the color-safe shampoo with his deft fingers and massaging Yeonjun’s scalp, too. Yeonjun wants to groan at the feeling, wants to melt into Beomgyu’s hands at the relief flooding his system.
He hears Beomgyu giggle behind him, amused at Yeonjun’s visceral reaction. Halfheartedly, he reached behind to smack him, but Beomgyu sidesteps before he makes contact. “Hyung! Is that the way to treat me, really?”
He wants to retort with something witty, but Beomgyu’s hands feel too good on his head that it renders him speechless. Instead of bantering back, he turns around and pulls Beomgyu closer by the waist, lowering his head in a wordless urge for Beomgyu to continue.
“Okay, you big baby,” he laughs, fingers resuming their previous movements. The combined feeling of the water hitting his back and Beomgyu’s hands rubbing into his scalp makes him sleepy, and he’d have swayed on his feet if he wasn’t holding onto Beomgyu’s hips for purchase.
“Feels nice,” he murmurs. Beomgyu hears him despite the sound of the running water.
“That’s good,” he says just as softly, before walking Yeonjun a little bit backward, directing his head under the spray. Beomgyu uses one hand to rinse the suds off of him, and the other goes to shield Yeonjun’s eyes from the shampoo running down his face.
The gesture makes Yeonjun’s chest heavy with emotion. He tightens his hold on Beomgyu.
He is so full of love that he could burst. There are days when it feels like it wants to rush out of him with the intensity of the storm hitting the shore, but today there is nothing but calmness. If his love could have a physical form, it would pour out of him in waves—gentle and soothing like a clear, quiet stream—but he can’t, so he settles for lacing his fingers through Beomgyu’s once he’s done rinsing Yeonjun’s hair. He brings their clasped hands close to his heart, closes his eyes, and leans his head on Beomgyu’s shoulder. Brings Beomgyu’s hands to his face, presses them to his lips, and hopes that what he feels seeps through the younger’s skin and into his bloodstream so that Yeonjun’s love can be part of him.
A few years back, to be first was his goal. What is the point of doing anything if you are not the best? In an industry like theirs, where he fights tooth and nail to be known and to be loved, he is grateful he does not have to fight for anything from Beomgyu. Not when Beomgyu willingly gives him everything. Here, he is the first.
He feels Beomgyu lean his head on his own bowed one, nuzzling his cheek into the wet strands of his hair. Then, a feather-light kiss. Yeonjun feels the telltale sign of tears, overcome with emotion. Here, in Beomgyu’s space, he is the only one.
He sniffles, and Beomgyu laughs at him, fondness leaking from the sound. “My crybaby,” he teases, freeing his hands from Yeonjun’s clutch to tip his chin up and wipe at an errant tear escaping from his eye.
Yeonjun takes the chance to study Beomgyu’s face. There are droplets caught on his long lashes, and he blinks them away. There’s a small smile on his lips, and the love with which he is looking at Yeonjun makes him burn from the inside out. He tilts his head at Yeonjun’s gaze and taps his nose with his pointer finger.
“Let’s finish up, okay?” He whispers, reaching for the conditioner he knows belongs to Yeonjun.
“Okay,” Yeonjun says, and lets Beomgyu take care of him.
Even though he wishes they could stay here forever, in this space and in this time, they can’t. Beomgyu finishes with Yeonjun soon enough, and he cleans himself up in his usual record-time. He reaches for the towels Yeonjun didn’t notice were already there, and then Yeonjun’s vision is obscured by the fluffy material as Beomgyu wraps him in it.
“Yah,” he grumbles halfheartedly, batting the towel from his face. Beomgyu relents, choosing instead to wrap the material around his head like a hood.
“You really look like a cute duck,” he coos, and Yeonjun pouts some more, but he preens at the attention.
The next few minutes are routine. Beomgyu hands him the towel while he dries himself down, and they brush their teeth together. Yeonjun hip-checks him, and Beomgyu reciprocates. They go to their respective rooms once they’re both sufficiently dry and wrapped up to get dressed in their most comfortable sleepwear, and once he’s done with his skincare, Yeonjun turns his lights off, plops himself into his bed, and waits.
He doesn’t have to wait too long, because a few minutes later Beomgyu is opening his door with quiet care, peeking just a little in case Yeonjun was already sleeping. When he sees him scrolling lazily on his phone instead, he enters and closes the door behind him.
This is routine, too—Beomgyu coming into his room after a long day, or vice versa. It doesn’t matter who comes to whom, as long as the day ends with them together.
“Hi,” Yeonjun says as Beomgyu slips under the covers and settles into his open arms. He snuggles into Yeonjun’s chest, his soft hair tickling Yeonjun’s chin. He smells like his favorite perfume.
“Hi, handsome,” he murmurs into the fabric of Yeonjun’s shirt. He looks up at him, round eyes piercing into Yeonjun’s. “Missed you.”
He wants to laugh at the incredulity of that statement when they’ve barely been separated from each other the entire night. Unfortunately, he feels the same, so he can’t really tease Beomgyu for it. Instead of answering, he just pulls Beomgyu even closer, arms tight around his torso. With one hand, he plays with the hair at the back of Beomgyu’s head and taps a beat into Beomgyu’s back with the fingers of the other one.
“That the song you’re working on?” Beomgyu asks, face once again nuzzled into Yeonjun.
Yeonjun hums his assent.
“Can’t wait to hear it, then,” Beomgyu tells him, and the trust he places in Yeonjun’s abilities makes it hard to breathe.
“You’ll be the first,” he promises.
To Beomgyu, Yeonjun may be the number one, but he’s Yeonjun’s, too.
They don’t talk much after that. The night is coming to an end, and Yeonjun is thankful for it. Right here, with the love of his life in his arms, he feels like he can finally breathe.
Yeonjun used to dream of days like this. Now, he doesn’t have to.