Work Text:
Soobin 09:54
Hyung, have you seen Beomgyu?
Me 09:58
choi beomgyu?
Soobin 09:58
Do you know any other Beomgyus? Obviously
Me 09:58
no (to both questions)
Me 09:59
why?
Soobin 10:10
We think he might’ve gone missing
Me 10:11
what????????????
[A call lasting 8 minutes ended at 10:19.]
The second worst part about breaking up with someone you once intended to marry was that it was near-impossible to get rid of their mark in your life. Anyone who’d gone through a bad breakup knew this, and while he and Beomgyu hadn’t gone through a bad breakup exactly, in some ways, Yeonjun thought their tense amiability made things worse—he couldn’t very well ignore Beomgyu’s existence in his life when they were still supposedly friends with each other, so he hadn’t thrown out any of the gifts Beomgyu had given him. Keeping up pretences was important.
That was the second worst part.
The worst part was that when said person goes missing, everyone and their mother calls you and asks how you are. And while their intentions were good, Yeonjun was going to snap if one more person messaged him ‘how are you holding up?’
Not because he didn’t need to assurance, because he did, but because he hated knowing that everyone knew how fucking gone he was for Beomgyu still. Nobody was calling up Beomgyu’s other ex-partners. Yeonjun was being treated like some kind of widow, when in reality he was pretty sure Beomgyu had been avoiding him for weeks.
Hell, he even received a text from his first year English professor. He hadn’t seen her in years. How did she know what happened, or that Beomgyu was Yeonjun’s ex? (Kai, probably. The answer was always Kai.)
Truthfully, Yeonjun was not holding up. Period. He got home that evening and stared at himself in the mirror for an hour before snapping out of it and realising he’d been staring at himself for an hour. The realisation, for some reason, opened the floodgates, and he sat on his couch and cried until he felt like he was going to throw up.
He hadn’t spoken to Beomgyu much lately, for obvious reasons, but he knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t just leave. Not without saying anything, not without telling his best friends, and honestly, not even in general. Beomgyu loved life, especially his own; he loved his friends, his career, his home. No, he wouldn’t leave like this.
Which meant he was actually missing. Which meant something had happened to him. And there were so many things that could mean.
Absolutely none of them good.
Beomgyu was strong, and he could take care of himself. But what if he’d been kidnapped? Had he gotten tangled up in something illegal? What if he’d been randomly attacked and there was nothing for them to trace? What if he was gone forever?
He ended up throwing up for real a few minutes after his brain unhelpfully conjured the image of Beomgyu terrified, afraid, hurt, and alone.
It didn’t matter if they hadn’t talked recently. It didn’t matter if they were awkward and Yeonjun was still hopelessly in love with him and Beomgyu did everything to avoid him. None of that mattered in the grand scheme of things. All he wanted to know was if Beomgyu was okay.
Once he could see again and his hands were no longer trembling uncontrollably, he found his phone on the bathroom floor and texted Soobin.
Me 11:42
how can i help?
Soobin 11:47
We’re going to hand out flyers tomorrow
Soobin 11:47
Do you want to come?
Me 11:48
yeah
Soobin 11:53
Okay, meet us at the corner store at 10
Yeonjun arrived at the corner store at nine, because he was so terrified of oversleeping that he hadn’t slept at all, and he was self aware enough to recognise that staying inside his room was not good for his mental health. It was fucking freezing outside, and he cursed himself for not bringing any gloves.
Beomgyu had always been the one to remember to bring that stuff, between them. Though, Beomgyu forgot pretty often too, so often they ended up just holding hands to warm each other up.
God, he was not going to cry in this parking lot. He refused. That wasn’t only lame, it was also pathetic.
Playing games he didn’t even like on his phone, he loitered around awkwardly at the park beside the convenience store until Soobin, Taehyun, and Kai arrived, carrying boxes full of flyers.
“Here, hyung,” Taehyun said, pulling out a stack of flyers and holding them out for Yeonjun. “We thought it’d be best to split up and cover more ground.” He paused, eyeing Yeonjun. “... Is that okay?”
“Why wouldn’t it be okay?” Yeonjun mumbled, accepting the flyers, though he knew exactly why Taehyun was asking: none of them trusted Yeonjun to be alone right now. Yeonjun wouldn’t trust himself, if he were them. “You’re right, it’s better to split up and speak to more people.”
“Okay, well…” Soobin lifted the hood of his jacket up. He was bundled from head to toe, and his voice was muffled by his scarf. “I’ll go north, Kai can go south, Taehyun west, Yeonjun hyung east?”
“Sure.” Taehyun shrugged.
“Alright. Let’s meet back here in—how about an hour?”
“Sure.”
It seemed like nobody had anything else to say, so Soobin nodded and, in that leaderlike way he always did, told them to shoo. Yeonjun plugged his phone into the power bank in his backpack and then walked aimlessly towards the commercial district to the east of their neighbourhood.
Most people refused to take the flyer, which Yeonjun expected but was growing increasingly frustrated by the second. He would never reject a flyer again from now on. Nothing hurt more than trying to get people to pay attention to a cause and being ignored— not when it mattered this much to him.
A few people took it without saying anything at all, most likely out of politeness, and a few others took it and paused to ask questions.
The current woman he was speaking to was in her late thirties or so, and she had her kid tucked by her side. The kid was glaring at Yeonjun furiously, and Yeonjun did his best to smile back despite how much he wanted to stick his tongue out and be petty in return.
“Sorry, do you have a better picture?” the woman apologised, handing them back the flyer. Yeonjun blinked and took it back. “My eyesight isn’t very good, and this image is in black and white, so…”
“Oh,” Yeonjun mumbled. “Um, yeah, sure. One second.”
He fished his phone out of his pocket and opened his photo gallery. Yeonjun never deleted any of his pictures, not even the ones he hated, just in case; not that he could bear to delete any of Beomgyu, regardless. He had to scroll up quite a bit to find a good one, but once he reached that point, pretty much every single image was of Beomgyu.
He paused, swallowing hard. He could remember when every single one of these were taken. All the reasons Beomgyu had been so happy, so fond, so in love. Most of them were because of Yeonjun.
Looking at them now made him feel like the biggest idiot in the world. All the issues Yeonjun had with Beomgyu seemed so miniscule and petty now. Like, yeah, it was irritating that Beomgyu always nagged him over leaving food on the counter, but was that worth breaking up over? It sucked that their work schedules were opposite, but was a temporary arrangement worth breaking up over?
It wasn’t any one thing, and he wasn’t about to invalidate his own frustrations—or Beomgyu’s. But all those things were drops in the bucket compared to how badly he needed Beomgyu in his life.
A part of him kept believing he and Beomgyu would get back together. And while he couldn’t guarantee anything, the fact they might not have the opportunity to try anymore just felt so… unfair.
Everything about this felt so unfair. Beomgyu was such a bright light; he was the one who’d wanted to stay friends after they broke up. He didn’t deserve this. Nobody did, but especially not Beomgyu, and to think that Beomgyu could be missing or worse—
The woman shifted on her feet, and Yeonjun forced himself to pick a random, decent photo of Beomgyu and hand it over.
“Hm.” The woman hummed, frowning slightly in thought, and Yeonjun felt his stomach turn. Most people would have thanked him and walked away by now. Did she…?
“Do you recognise him?” he asked, heart picking up pace. His throat tightened.
It felt like ages before she drew back, shaking her head. “... No, I’m sorry,” she said. “But I’ll keep an eye out.”
Yeonjun exhaled. He shouldn’t have held his breath in the first place.
“Okay, thank you,” he said diligently, bowing. She gave him a small smile then walked away, though not before looking back at him a few times. She was likely just worried. Well, that was one person on their side. Hopefully she would actually tell people and maybe—
Maybe one of them would know something. Yeonjun wasn’t about to give up.
He took a five second break to gather his bearings before he squared his shoulders and went back to trailing down the sidewalk, stopping every person he possibly could.
They hit up four different neighbourhoods that day, all within the general vicinity of Beomgyu’s apartment and school, but nobody had a single relevant scrap of real info for them. A few people recognised Beomgyu, and one or two recognised Yeonjun as Beomgyu’s boyfriend, not realising they had broken up a year ago, but that was it. No leads beyond “I’ll be sure to look out for him”.
“Well…” Soobin sounded significantly more tired now. And they all knew that when even Soobin couldn’t muster the energy to sound optimistic that things were bad. “Hopefully the detective will have more information for us tomorrow. But we should all head home now and get some rest.”
Yeonjun couldn’t help but think that if Beomgyu were here, he’d tell them to continue. If one of them were missing and Beomgyu had a sliver of hope that he could help find them, he wouldn’t stop until he passed out from exhaustion.
Beomgyu was not here, however, and Yeonjun didn’t have the mental capacity to keep going, even for the hypothetical Beomgyu in his brain. The thought of having to do this all again—the rejection and pitying looks—was torturous.
He just wanted to go home and cry some more, he was so defeated. Never in a thousand years did he think he would be in this position. This was the kind of shit that happened in movies and to criminals, not people like Beomgyu who volunteered at animal shelters and sang to children at the hospital.
His eyes were beginning to grow watery again.
“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Yeah. We should go home and rest.”
“It’s what he would want,” Taehyun said. He spoke to the group, but it felt targeted.
Yeonjun didn’t react as Soobin clapped his shoulder and said, “You’re right. Go to sleep early, guys. And… and if anybody is feeling bad, you can message the group chat.”
They bid each other their goodbyes in what had to be the single most depressing fashion of all time—and that was saying something, considering how awkward they’d all been after Yeonjun and Beomgyu’s break up—and Yeonjun began to drag himself back home. The full forty-minute walk and all, because he didn’t feel like interacting with a bus driver today.
And quite frankly, entering his house nowadays always made him depressed. It didn’t feel like home anymore; not without Beomgyu.
When he finally reached his doorstep, it was nearing midnight and Yeonjun could barely see two metres in front of him. His eyes were only half-open and his brain was barely functioning after spending all day hyperactive.
So he almost jumped out of his fucking skin when he felt something touch his ankle, pulling him out of his daze in an instant.
Naturally, since he’d spent all day dwelling on the idea of Beomgyu being kidnapped, his first instinct was that he was being kidnapped. He turned and wielded his keys like a weapon.
There was nobody behind him. There was, however, another nip on his ankle. Yeonjun looked down.
“Oh my god,” he muttered to himself. He’d almost stabbed a dog with his keys. What the fuck was wrong with him? He desperately needed rest and a hot chocolate. “What are you doing here?” he asked the poor thing, kneeling down in front of it.
The puppy sniffed him and then barked wildly, tail wagging. It was covered in a thin layer of snow, white flakes clinging to its white fur, and Yeonjun brushed some of the snow off its face to get a good look at it.
He nearly fell flat on his ass when he realised what breed of dog it was. One of those fluffy ones that Beomgyu always bragged about looking like, to the point where he’d made his contact photo in Yeonjun’s phone a picture of a puppy. A fucking maltese. The universe must have been laughing at him right now.
If Yeonjun were smart, he would take the dog to a twenty-four-seven animal shelter. The one Beomgyu volunteered at was open until one in the morning—if he was quick, he could make it in time.
But as silly as it was, he couldn’t stand the thought of throwing away a dog that looked exactly like Beomgyu. He was terrified it’d bring him bad karma, and more selfishly, the thought of having a companion tonight wasn’t so bad. It was better than being alone.
The universe might’ve been laughing at him, but he would take advantage of any opportunity he had to keep himself sane right now.
Growing impatient, the puppy, oblivious to his plight, nudged its head against Yeonjun’s knee and whined loudly.
“Shhhhh,” Yeonjun tried to shush it, but his attempt only made it bark more. “Come inside with me, okay? It’s way too cold out here, even though you do sort of look like a polar bear.”
He scooped up the puppy in his arms and it wiggled nonstop, clearly displeased. Yeonjun was more than strong enough to hold a puppy back though, using his one free hand to open the door.
Flicking on the light, he let the puppy down. It shook snow off its fur, revealing more white fluff underneath. Yeonjun watched mournfully as the snow melted on his wooden floors.
“Why were you outside by yourself, huh?” He sighed. There were lots of stray dogs in this area, but this one didn’t look like a stray exactly; it wasn’t emancipated nor was it aggressive, just seemingly a little annoyed by Yeonjun having picked it up. “Did your owner lose you?”
The puppy answered with a small “woof” and Yeonjun felt like an idiot. Why was he bothering to ask a dog questions? He was losing his mind.
“I’m sorry, I don’t have the energy to try and find your owner right now,” Yeonjun said, running his hands through his hair. Showering was next on his list of things to do. “I already spent all day looking for a missing friend, and… I’ll help you tomorrow, don’t worry. Are you hungry? Do you want food?”
If the dog knew the word food, that would point to it being someone’s pet and not a stray. Unsurprisingly, its eyes sparkled the moment it picked up on what Yeonjun said.
“Woof! Woof!” Its tail slapped against the floor as it sat down. Yeonjun chuckled for the first time that day.
“... I’m going to take that as a yes.”
He nodded, mostly to himself, and then set out to feed his new guest.
At least it gave him something to do other than wallow his own misery, if not only for a few minutes. After fishing out a packet of beef jerky from the back of his cupboard and ensuring the puppy ate most of it, he went to shower feeling slightly less defeated than he had ten minutes earlier.
“Um. Since when do you have a dog?” Soobin asked the next day when they met up to hand out more flyers. Yeonjun glanced down at the puppy currently running in circles around them. It wasn’t snowing today, so Yeonjun figured he’d just take him with him, since leaving a stray (newly adopted?) dog by himself in his dismal, empty house seemed slightly cruel.
“Yesterday,” Yeonjun answered. “I took him to the vet this morning, but they said he’s not chipped.”
He (the vet had thankfully clarified the puppy’s sex for him) needed a bunch of shots, but Yeonjun didn’t have the money to spare. Not when he was taking time off work for this. They said as long as Yeonjun was careful not to let the puppy interact with other dogs or eat anything strange, he should be fine, so Yeonjun was putting it off for now. He wasn’t even sure if he was going to keep him or not.
“Huh.” Taehyun crouched down and clapped his hands. “C’mere!”
The puppy sprinted over, immediately nuzzling into Taehyun’s lap. Yeonjun pouted. Why hadn’t he done that to Yeonjun?
“Wow, he’s friendly,” Taehyun said in awe, brushing back the puppy’s ears. “Does he have a name?”
“Not yet. I didn’t want to name him in case… I’m not sure if I’m going to keep him or give him to the shelter.”
“You should,” Soobin said quickly. Yeonjun blinked at him, startled by the urgency in his voice. “Sorry, uh. I mean—getting a dog might be good for you. Like, in general. Unrelated to this,” he corrected, stumbling over his words, after seeing Yeonjun’s glare.
Beomgyu had been missing for less than forty-eight hours and his friends were already starting to think of contingency plans for his mental health. Get a pet was the sort of advice you gave to somebody after their partner died. Nevermind the fact Yeonjun and Beomgyu weren’t together anymore.
Still, as much as Yeonjun’s temples throbbed, he knew Soobin was right. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Well, I’m taking name suggestions then, I guess.” The puppy, name pending, barked in approval. Or maybe he was barking at something else. Who knows.
“I wanna pet him too,” Kai complained. He sat right down on the sidewalk, not caring that the snow was getting his pants wet. “Pspsps.”
“That’s what you say to cats, not dogs,” Taehyun snorted.
The puppy bounded over towards Kai—again, far more excitedly than he’d done to Yeonjun last night—and practically forced himself into Kai’s arms. Kai giggled, petting him furiously and making the most obnoxious cooing noises.
Even the way the puppy cosied up to Kai was exactly like Beomgyu. Yeonjun’s shoulders slumped.
Seeing that Taehyun and Kai were distracted, he turned back to Soobin. “Did the detective say anything?” Though he had a feeling he knew what the answer was; if there had been any news, they wouldn’t be standing here discussing a dog instead.
“Nothing.” Soobin closed his eyes, jaw stiff. “Literally vanished without a trace.”
Yeonjun nibbled on his lip. How was that possible? Even in most kidnapping cases, there were some signs. Of a struggle, or of a history which led up to the point of kidnapping, or something.
It was sounding more and more like Beomgyu had been randomly targeted outside of his house, which dropped their chances of finding him significantly. Yeonjun would know. He spent all fucking night reading up on every relevant case and catastrophizing Beomgyu’s fate.
“They’re still going to investigate though?”
“Of course. Beomgyu’s parents said they’d call me if anything came up.”
Yeonjun nodded. He wanted to call Beomgyu’s parents himself and ask them what the detective said, how they were doing, but—he didn’t know how much Beomgyu told them about their breakup, and he didn’t want to make things more uncomfortable for them.
“Can I suggest a name?” Taehyun asked.
Yeonjun glanced at where Taehyun and Kai were huddled around the puppy, who was absolutely basking in the attention. “Sure.”
“Cub, like bear cub.” Taehyun flicked the puppy’s ears. “Because he looks like a polar bear.”
“Oh.” Yeonjun forced a smile at the same time his heart dropped to his stomach. He used to call Beomgyu that, because they were one of those stupid sappy couples that had private nicknames for each other—not that Taehyun knew that, and Yeonjun didn’t have the energy to explain. So he just agreed, “Yeah, I thought that too. Cub it is, then.”
“Cute,” Soobin said. “It suits him.”
“Wait, hyung…” Kai interrupted, holding Cub’s face in his hands and squinting. His grin had fallen, replaced with a frown, brows furrowed. “Where did you find him again?”
Cub, at the same time, began to bark and jump up and down out of nowhere, like he was ecstatic over hearing Kai speak.
“Outside my house,” Yeonjun answered. Kai hummed thoughtfully. “Why?”
His first thought was that Kai recognised Cub as someone else’s, but a moment later, Kai shook his head, lifting himself back onto his feet.
“Sorry, I think I got him mixed up with another dog,” Kai said. Cub kept barking. “Also, I think he’s hungry.”
“Uh, yeah. Probably,” Yeonjun said, not really knowing what else to say. He’d fed Cub more beef jerky before they left, though it didn’t surprise him that a puppy had a bottomless appetite. “I’ll feed him in a moment. Are you sure you don’t recognise him?”
“Yeah,” Kai assured him. “He doesn’t have the, um, same eye colour.”
Cub began to whine, and then—out of seemingly nowhere—tried to nip Kai’s hand. Kai yelped, stumbling back, right into Taehyun, while Cub whimpered.
Yeonjun’s eyes widened and he quickly scooped the puppy into his arms. That was the first time he’d seen him get aggressive. Was it because of hunger? Puppies burned through food faster than he thought.
“I’m going to feed him, then start handing out flyers,” Yeonjun said, already reaching into his backpack for the tupperware of dog food he’d been given earlier at the vet’s. “We can meet back here later?”
“Sounds good,” Soobin hummed. “Remember to text if anything comes up, guys.”
Kai stayed behind for a moment, staring blankly at Cub, and Yeonjun felt terrible for having almost gotten him hurt. He should’ve expected it, given that this was an untrained dog, even if he was friendly and relatively tame.
That was another expense to add to the list. Puppy training. He couldn’t begin to think about what the cost of all of this would add up to. Especially since now that he had a name, Yeonjun knew there was no way he was going to be able to bring himself to give him up. The fact he looked like Beomgyu was the cherry on top.
Eventually Kai left as well, leaving Yeonjun alone with Cub. Yeonjun set him down and the puppy sat down by his feet, tail swishing back and forth. He should probably scold Cub for trying to bite Kai, but he doubted it would do anything and he didn’t want to make him afraid of Yeonjun.
Instead, he silently placed the food on the ground and nudged Cub towards it. The puppy blinked back at him with big, clear eyes, not moving.
“It’s food,” he said, picking up a few pieces in the palm of his hand. “Dog food. For dogs.”
Cub lifted his chin and Yeonjun swore he saw him pout. Exactly like how Beomgyu complained whenever Yeonjun tried to get him to open up his food palate. Yeonjun groaned, taking a deep breath. God, he wished Beomgyu was here. He always knew what to do with animals.
“... What, you don’t like this brand?” Yeonjun asked. Cub did not respond, of course, and opted to instead bark in the direction Kai had walked in. Maybe Kai’s clothes smelled like his breakfast? Who knows. “We can stop at a convenience store while we hand out flyers. There’s one nearby,” he said and stood back up, packing the food back away. “Stick close or I’ll have to put the leash back on.”
Hilariously, Cub quieted down after that and stuck to Yeonjun’s side, at least until they arrived at the store. Yeonjun ended up buying yet another pack of beef jerky for him with the last bit of cash in his wallet. Not the healthiest option, but it was cheap and better than nothing, he supposed.
After that, Cub quieted down, and Yeonjun pulled out his stack of flyers to get started on his real task of the day.
Yeonjun was quickly beginning to think that handing out flyers was not helping in the slightest, because more people stopped to pet Cub than to accept a flyer.
But as much as the continued rejection was beginning to piss him off, a small, nagging part of his brain kept pestering him about what if—what if there was somebody out there who knew where Beomgyu was and Yeonjun never found them because he’d given up?
So even after the others all texted that they were going home, Yeonjun stayed outside until he had no flyers left and Cub was falling asleep by his feet.
He arrived back to his house feeling just as defeated as yesterday, and the only thing that stopped him from crawling straight into bed was the endlessly hungry, whiny puppy he’d somehow ended up adopting. He learned that Cub absolutely refused to eat anything labelled as dog food, so he was forced to look up what meats are safe for dogs to eat and instead give him that.
(The answer was chicken, by the way, which he had lots of because Beomgyu had gotten him hooked on a particular chicken dish a few years ago.)
Despite the fact he’d been dead tired when he got home, by the time he fed Cub and washed up, he was wide awake again. It always felt like that; when he needed to sleep, he couldn’t. Especially as of late.
He somehow found himself sitting in front of his TV stand, flipping through one of the scrapbooks Beomgyu made for him. For their third anniversary, to be precise—Beomgyu made them one for every year they were together, but he hadn’t opened them since they broke up.
“You know, you really look like him,” Yeonjun commented, scratching behind Cub’s ears. The puppy whined, butting against his hand, and Yeonjun grinned. “Especially your nose. He has a really round nose. He hated whenever I pointed it out, but I loved it.”
He rubbed his thumb against Cub’s wet nose and laughed when the puppy pretended to nip at his fingers. Since the incident with Kai, he hadn’t acted out again, which Yeonjun was grateful for. He didn’t know what he’d do if his newly adopted dog turned out to be a genuine hazard.
“I wish you could talk,” Yeonjun murmured. And he was aware of how stupid he sounded, but nobody knew except him and his dog who couldn’t understand him, so whatever. “Just so you could tell me everything will be okay. I dunno. Dogs seem to be good at that.”
Cub licked a long stripe against his cheek, and Yeonjun laughed, pushing him off his lap. “Gross,” he said, wiping his face with the back of his sleeve. He supposed that was a sign for him to shower and get to bed. It would be another long day of handing out flyers tomorrow, and in the snow no less.
He took a long, searing hot shower, zoning out while scrubbing the same area of his arm over and over with soap until he realised what he was doing. The mirror was fogged up when he stepped out of the shower, and Yeonjun was grateful he didn’t have to see how haggard his face was as he dried himself.
“Don’t wake me up in the middle of the night by barking, I need to sleep. Please?” he requested to Cub, who’d decided to curl up beside him on the bed. He didn’t quite enjoy the thought of having dog fur all over his sheets, but he didn’t mind having something warm and fluffy beside him. If he closed his eyes and didn’t breathe in, he could almost pretend it was Beomgyu.
Cub yawned, tail thwacking against the bed, and stretched his paws out. The poor thing must’ve been equally tired as Yeonjun was, since he spent all day outside too. Yeonjun didn’t mind taking the chance and leaving him home alone tomorrow. He didn’t want him to get sick from having to follow Yeonjun around in the snow.
It felt nice to have something to take care of again. As cliche as it was—he truly didn’t realise how much he’d loved taking care of Beomgyu, and being taken care of by Beomgyu, until he didn’t have him anymore. Getting desensitised to each other was part of why they broke up in the first place. When he saw Beomgyu again, he vowed to never take his warmth for granted again.
Even the puppy’s eyelashes were the same as Beomgyu’s, long and dark despite its white fur. Yeonjun reached out and gave him one last good boy scratch before closing his eyes. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
One week later and things were already beginning to fall apart.
“We aren’t handing anything out today?” Yeonjun asked, trying not to sound panicked and failing.
They were meeting outside the convenience store today, at Yeonjun’s request, since he needed to pick up dog treats. When they’d arrived, none of them had their backpacks with them, meaning they didn’t have flyers with them either, and Yeonjun’s rested mind had quickly spiralled back into distress.
Soobin bit his lip and exchanged a glance with Taehyun. Yeonjun could tell where this was going. “We thought it’d be best to take a break today.”
“What? Why?” He knew it was coming, but it still made him nauseous to hear. “If your legs are getting tired, just sit down.”
“It’s not that. We just… we all know it hasn’t helped,” Soobin answered, shoulders slumped. “And honestly, it’s getting a bit depressing. We can continue tomorrow, okay? But I think we all need a break.”
The logical part of Yeonjun’s brain knew that Soobin was right, but the irrational part of him refused to agree on principle. Maybe they could give up, but they were dealing with their friend, not their ex.
It wasn’t about his and Beomgyu’s relationship or about getting Beomgyu back in that way. It was about the fact Yeonjun fucking loved him still, that was all. What would it say about Yeonjun if he were to stop? That he didn’t love Beomgyu enough?
He grit his teeth. “Fine, I’ll just do it alone.”
“Hyung…”
“See you guys tomorrow,” Yeonjun said, and before any of them could respond, turned on his heel and left.
Yeonjun felt bad later for brushing his friends off—they were Beomgyu’s friends as well, if not even closer to Beomgyu than he was nowadays, and they were understandably feeling tired. That didn’t mean he had to agree with them to take a break though, and while he shot off apology texts to all of them, he didn’t regret spending his day handing out flyers again.
Cub greeted him when he got home, practically bouncing off the walls, and Yeonjun laughed weakly. It almost felt like Beomgyu was here again. Beomgyu had the same reaction whenever Yeonjun came home—well, the same feeling was a better description, because with Beomgyu, his excitement manifested in wanting to kiss Yeonjun, not in him barking. Fortunately. As much as Yeonjun found Beomgyu’s quirks cute, that was one line he wasn’t sure he could cross.
“Hi,” Yeonjun greeted softly, leaning over to give the puppy a good head scratch. He’d learned that Cub didn’t enjoy being picked up, but he loved being pet. Especially behind the ears. “I missed you too.”
After he fed Cub, the puppy joined Yeonjun on the couch. Against his better judgement, Yeonjun was scrolling through Beomgyu’s Instagram feed for what had to be the millionth time in the past few weeks.
“Wanna see?” Yeonjun tilted the phone towards the puppy, who curled up by Yeonjun’s side. “He’s really good at taking pictures,” he said, trying not to sound too fond.
Cub made a puppy noise, as puppies did, and diligently watched and listened as Yeonjun continued to scroll and comment on the history of each picture. If Cub got annoyed by his voice going on and on, he didn’t show it. In fact, he seemed mesmerised by Yeonjun’s every movement, and Yeonjun found himself smiling as he recounted the events of his favourite photos. And there were a lot of them.
“This one was the month before we ended things,” Yeonjun said, absently stroking the top of Cub’s head as he stopped on the next series of pictures. They’d gone out for dinner at Yeonjun’s family friend’s restaurant. He’d gotten annoyed at Beomgyu for not enjoying the food, and Beomgyu had snapped at him for being upset over something so petty. And it was petty, in hindsight. Both of them were.
“Looking back, I guess I willingly looked over the signs of things going south because it was just easier to not acknowledge them. But I wish I’d said something. I wish I’d told him I was willing to put in more effort, or more time, or whatever it was that we needed. Because I was, I just—I don’t know. I don’t know why I didn’t say anything. I was so stupid.”
Two hours later, he was finally forced to stop torturing himself when he reached the end of his camera roll. Sighing deeply, he leaned back against the couch, looking at the ceiling. His eyes were misty and the lights were all blending together.
“I miss him,” he murmured. “I missed him before this and now I miss him a thousand times more. But I was the one who broke up with him. I don’t have the right to miss him.”
Cub pressed his cheek to Yeonjun’s knee for attention, and Yeonjun slowly scratched back and forth behind his ears as he talked to himself.
“God, what if he’s dead?” he wondered out loud. Reaching up, he wasn’t surprised to find tears running down his cheeks. “What if he died and I’m sitting here whining? Am I a terrible person for wanting to get back together?”
Cub whimpered. Yeonjun didn’t know whether that was a yes or a no.
“I don’t even care if we get back together,” Yeonjun mumbled. Okay, that wasn’t exactly true, but. “I mean, I do care, but, I just… I just need to know he’s okay. We can deal with everything else later. I just—I just really, really need to know if he’s okay.”
Sensing his misery, Cub lapped furiously at his face, wet tongue slobbering all over Yeonjun’s nose. His pores were going to hate him. It didn’t immediately cheer him up, but it tickled and the earnestness made him laugh. “I know, I know. Okay, I’ll stop crying. Calm down.”
That only made Cub lick him harder, and he didn’t stop licking until Yeonjun’s tears stopped falling.
“He would’ve liked you,” Yeonjun mumbled. “He really liked… he really likes dogs. When we find him, I’ll introduce you guys. And…”
He trailed off. What came after that, he wasn’t sure. But introducing Beomgyu to his new puppy seemed like a good first step, even if it was just towards being friends again.
Once Cub saw he was no longer crying, he settled back into a little ball, face tucked in between his paws. Yeonjun watched him for what felt like forever, observing the rise and fall of the puppy’s chest, thinking about the last time he and Beomgyu had slept in the same bed and he did the same thing to him.
Eventually, Cub shifted away from him in his sleep and Yeonjun forced his eyes back to his phone. If anybody, especially Beomgyu, could hear his thoughts right now, they’d likely send him to the hospital for being so pathetic.
But he deserved to be a little pathetic, he thought. It was cathartic to be so openly upset. He was sick of acting normal every day when inside he was growing more and more terrified that Beomgyu was gone forever.
Without thinking, he swiped to his messages with Beomgyu and tapped on the last audio message. Yeonjun had memorised every word of this voicemail; he’d listened to it dozens of times over the past year. Probably an unhealthy amount. But now he was grateful he’d never deleted it—he needed to hear Beomgyu’s voice more than ever.
Beomgyu’s low tone came all staticky through the speaker on Yeonjun’s phone. “Sorry, hyung, I can’t make it today. I know this is super last minute, I… It came up out of nowhere and it slipped my mind to tell you earlier. Can we reschedule for tomorrow? Or maybe the day after? I don’t know if this thing will be done by then. Actually, I’ll just call you back later. Okay, um, I’m sorry again. I love you, hyung.”
Beep.
“That was the last voicemail he left me,” Yeonjun told Cub. The puppy was somewhere in between sleeping and glaring at Yeonjun for interrupting his sleep, but Yeonjun was too deep into his head to care. He needed his emotional support dog right now. “We broke up three days later. Since then, we only ever texted.”
Cub didn’t say anything, because he was a dog. Instead, he licked the sole of Yeonjun’s foot, and Yeonjun smiled despite the fact he was nearly in tears again.
The poor thing looked him straight in the eyes and whined, as if to tell him suck it up so I can get some rest. Yeonjun scooped Cub up in his arms, much to the dog’s chagrin, and nuzzled his face against his fur.
“I know it was presumptuous of me, but I’d always hoped that… eventually, we’d get back together. Like this was just a temporary break to soul search. And now we might not even have that chance, and I… I don’t know. I still love him.” His throat closed up and he couldn’t continue speaking. “Sorry. I don’t know why I keep crying.” That was a lie. He knew exactly why.
Cub aggressively licked his tears off his cheeks, more fervently than before. He even used his paw to bat at Yeonjun’s face like he was trying to brush the tears away. It was so ridiculously cute that Yeonjun couldn’t help but laugh quietly, hugging the puppy tighter and tighter until he was nipped in the nose.
He realised later that was the first time Cub had sat on his lap without making a fuss.
Despite the fact his chest was still tight with hopelessness at the thought of Beomgyu being missing, he smiled in the dark of his room, hearing Cub shuffle around outside his door. He had one thing to be thankful for still. Beomgyu wouldn’t want him to wallow in misery forever; if he knew Yeonjun adopted a dog, he would want Yeonjun to put all his effort into taking care of it. That was the type of person Beomgyu was.
Maybe tomorrow, he would finally set up an appointment for Cub to get his shots. Just because he had to hand out flyers didn’t mean he couldn’t do other things too. If Beomgyu were around, he would tease Yeonjun for finally being able to multitask.
Tomorrow, he promised himself, and allowed himself to fall asleep to the tune of Cub’s soft snores.
When Yeonjun opened his eyes, it wasn’t to a cloud of white fur or a silly black nose. It was to a person’s back, a familiar back, and a mess of brown hair.
Yeonjun woke up faster than he had ever in his life. Including the night he’d been cornered half-asleep by Cub. “What the fuck?” he said, and while he knew he was breathing, none of the air seemed to be going to his brain. “What the fuck?”
Beomgyu—Beomgyu—heard his gasp and spun around, eyes as wide as saucers. Startled, as if he wasn’t standing in Yeonjun’s room, in Yeonjun’s clothes no less, real and alive and not missing.
“Am I dreaming?” Yeonjun asked.
“Fuck,” Beomgyu said, as an answer. His voice was hoarse and his skin pale and sunken like he hadn’t been in the sun for weeks. But Yeonjun didn’t have the mind to take in Beomgyu’s appearance too much. He was more focused on Beomgyu being alive. “I didn’t think you’d wake up. You don’t normally wake up this early—”
He almost sounded annoyed, and Yeonjun’s mouth fell open in shock as it began to sink in what was happening. Beomgyu was in his room. Beomgyu was here. He was safe, and for some reason he was wearing Yeonjun’s clothing, in his room, real and alive and not missing, and what the fuck?
“Do you have any fucking idea how worried we’ve been?” Yeonjun yelled, grabbing Beomgyu’s wrist. “Beomgyu, what the fuck? What are you doing here? Where were you? Why are you—how did you even get in—you gave me your key, you—”
Beomgyu attempted to wiggle away, squirming his arm, but Yeonjun refused to let go. No fucking way was he about to let Beomgyu run off without giving him answers. Not after the past two weeks of torture, not after the amount of tears Yeonjun had shed for him, the amount of grief he’d put all their friends through, not to mention his family.
“Calm down,” Beomgyu said, unhelpfully. “I didn’t break in, I—”
“You were missing,” Yeonjun choked. “We contacted the police. We handed out flyers, we… did you tell your parents yet? The police are looking for you, there’s a missing person’s report, god, I thought you were fucking dead, Beomgyu, what the f—”
“If you’re going to ask me things, you have to let me speak, hyung,” Beomgyu interrupted. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his free hand. The shirt he was wearing, one of Yeonjun’s sleeping shirts, completely swallowed him. Yeonjun couldn’t tell if he was emancipated or not. Did he run away? Was he kidnapped? Did he get lost? He didn’t seem injured, but he didn’t seem okay either, and none of those options explained why he was in Yeonjun’s room, and also—“Hyung.”
Yeonjun ripped his hand away, covering his mouth with his hands. He was going to pass out. He needed his emotional support dog.
Wait.
“Where’s Cub?” Yeonjun said, his stress suddenly growing tenfold, if that was possible. He jumped off his bed, surveying his room, but there was no sign of his puppy. Not even a set of paw prints on the wood floor.
“Hyung, if you could just listen to me—”
Yeonjun ignored him and rushed into the hallway, looking around the corner, but nothing. The bathroom connected to his room, nothing. Balcony, nothing.
“Did you…” Yeonjun shakily turned towards Beomgyu, who had followed him around in obvious exasperation as he checked his house. “Did you take my fucking dog?”
Beomgyu shot him a bewildered look. “Why would I do that?”
“I don’t know!” Yeonjun yelled, voice rising. He didn’t know. He didn’t know what the fuck was happening. All he knew was that Beomgyu was here, Cub was not, and his vision was beginning to go black from how badly his temples were throbbing. “Did you see him? He’s… small, and white, like a cloud, like those dogs you used to send me, and…”
“I didn’t see him, but—”
“How could you not see him? He was in my room a few hours ago!” Yeonjun dragged his hands down his face. “Oh my god. Oh my god. You’re here, and now he’s lost.”
“Hyung, I didn’t see him because I am him,” Beomgyu said, grabbing both of Yeonjun’s hands and shoving his way into Yeonjun’s personal space. Yeonjun was so surprised he wretched himself away and stumbled backwards, falling onto his bed. Beomgyu shut his eyes and sighed. “I’m Cub.”
Yeonjun blinked at him. “I know that’s—that used to be your nickname, Beomgyu, but I’m talking about my dog, not you. Though don’t think you’re off the hook, because you—you still haven’t told me where you were, or how you got in here, but I need to find my dog first, and—”
There was a flash of bright light, so bright that Yeonjun had to block his view to avoid his pupils being seared. Then, when he lowered his hand, Beomgyu was gone.
And a wet nose bumped against his ankle.
Yeonjun didn’t move. He didn’t think. He didn’t do anything at all, except stare at his dog. His dog, who was in the same place Beomgyu had been standing moments earlier.
His dog, who was apparently Beomgyu?
In another flash, Beomgyu was back, pressed right up against Yeonjun’s body. Magically—and thankfully—his clothing was still on.
“I pissed off a witch and she cursed me,” Beomgyu said by way of explanation, puffing out his cheeks. “Which, by the way, what I did wasn’t even a big deal, so. Kind of felt like the punishment far outweighed the crime.”
“Cursed you,” Yeonjun repeated. “To be a dog?”
“Well… sort of.” Beomgyu crossed his arms and stared resolutely out the window. The tips of his ears were pink. The last time Yeonjun saw him, he had long hair. Actually, then again, the last time he’d seen Beomgyu he was a dog. So. He didn’t have hair like, at all. “It’s a long story. I don’t know most of it myself. It’s more like my family has this stupid latent magical gene, and the curse mixed with it and it made me like… that.”
“Oh, okay,” Yeonjun said. There was nothing left in his brain but air. He wasn’t comprehending anything Beomgyu said at all. Witches? Magic? Something about Beomgyu being magical? Yeonjun would say something corny like Beomgyu had always been magical to him, but he was too busy reeling over the dog thing. “And you couldn’t turn back?”
Stupid question. Beomgyu snorted, clearly thinking the same thing, but responded with a surprising amount of patience. “No, I couldn’t turn back on my own. It was a curse. But I think I have it under control now.”
“And you…” Yeonjun licked his lips. They were so dry. “You heard… everything I said? Were you lucid this entire time?”
What he meant was: all the breakdowns he’d had, every tear he’d shed, the elaborate rambles he’d gone on about how much he missed Beomgyu and loved him and wanted to see him smile and laugh again. Beomgyu had heard all that?
Yeonjun laughed. Because if he didn’t laugh, he would start crying.
Beomgyu looked more constipated than anything as he mumbled, “Yes. But—”
“Just forget it all,” he begged, veering on desperately. No, scratch that. He was absolutely desperate. “Please. I was just—I wasn’t in a good place, obviously and I—I thought you were a dog, and I wouldn’t have said it if I knew you were listening, and I didn’t mean all of it anyway.” He chuckled hysterically through his obvious lie. “It’s not important. Seriously, just forget it. Actually, we should call your parents. And the detective. And…”
“Hyung.” Beomgyu shook him by the shoulders. “Will you please let me finish?” He didn’t give Yeonjun a chance to properly respond before he continued, “The curse could only be lifted by someone saying they loved me and meaning it.”
Well, there went all of his attempts to salvage this situation. He was fucked. He was so utterly fucked.
“Well then,” he said, clipped. His mind was in shambles. His legs were turning into jelly and he wasn’t even standing up. “Huh.”
“But!” Beomgyu shouted. The more he spoke the redder his face got. “It’s not just that. It also… ugh, how do I put this, it—the curse couldonlybeliftedbythepersonIlove,” he said, firing off each word far more rapidly than Yeonjun could comprehend, voice getting quieter and quieter.
Yeonjun caught some of the words, but they didn’t make sense on their own, let alone together. “What?” he said dumbly.
“You had to say ‘I love you’ and mean it,” Beomgyu said, softly. He kept his eyes on the floor, at the wall. Anywhere but Yeonjun’s face. “But it only worked because it was you. Because I love you. That’s why I came here in the first place, was because when she told me that it had to be from the person I love, I knew—there was only you. And I knew that there was a big chance you wouldn’t say it, let alone mean it, but I had to try, since… well, I didn’t want to be a dog forever.”
“The person you love,” Yeonjun echoed. He rolled the words around in his head, picked out each of them and then tried to put them together. The person: Beomgyu. The target: Yeonjun. “You still love me,” he said, accusatory.
“Hyung…” Beomgyu’s hands fell limp to his sides. “Of course I do. When you said that you always thought we’d get back together, I… I didn’t realise it until that moment that I’d thought the same thing.” He covered his face with his hands. “I’d never imagined my life without you before. Not in the long term.”
“Beomgyu—”
“And then I got so scared, what if we wanted the same thing but you never lifted the curse and so I was—so we were stuck like that forever? What if we wanted the same thing and never got to even try it?” His voice was shaking. “Every day you weren’t here because you were handing out those stupid flyers, I just thought about how if I ever turned back, I was never going to give up again. For as long as I love you, I’d keep telling you. Even if it’s difficult or if we fight or get frustrated with each other, I wouldn’t give up just because it’s hard.”
“Me too,” Yeonjun croaked. “I mean, not—not exactly me too, but giving up—I’d rather have to give up fish forever and watch the same five movies for the rest of my life than give you up over stuff that doesn’t even matter.”
“I know,” Beomgyu said. He laughed, and Yeonjun recalled what he’d said to himself about how he would never take Beomgyu’s laughter for granted ever again. The sound instantly lifted a thousand pound weight off his shoulders. “I know.”
He wiped his face and his arm came back wet from his tears. God, he’d cried more these past few weeks than he had his entire life. And that was saying something.
“Come here?” he requested, opening his arms. “Cub,” he added, cracking a smile.
Beomgyu smiled back, sliding onto the bed beside him. His arms were soft and warm around Yeonjun’s waist, his shoulder just as bony as Yeonjun remembered.
“I love you,” Beomgyu whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too,” Yeonjun said. He lifted his head enough so that he could cup Beomgyu’s face and look into his eyes. They were so beautiful. Beomgyu was a cute dog, but he was a beautiful person.
He brushed Beomgyu’s hair away from his face and Beomgyu giggled, leaning into his touch. Yeonjun’s heart was about to burst with relief and happiness all at once. There was so much to do now—important stuff, including but not limited to ending the missing person’s investigation and telling their friends—but for now, Yeonjun just wanted to bask in this moment and in Beomgyu.
“Hyung, if you don’t kiss me right now, I’ll turn back into a dog and jump out the window.”
Yeonjun laughed so hard his stomach hurt, and in the end, Beomgyu had to take matters into his own hands and kiss Yeonjun himself.
Soobin burst into tears the moment he opened the door and saw Beomgyu sheepishly tugging on the ends of his sleeves. Taehyun bounded over to him for a hug, and Kai clutched onto his arm, sniffling.
They piled onto Yeonjun’s couch together, everybody pestering Beomgyu with questions, while Yeonjun gently interjected that they were tentatively getting back together. Their reactions ranged from glee (Kai) to smugness (Taehyun) to concern (Soobin).
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Soobin asked.
“We’re going to take things slow,” Yeonjun assured him, squeezing Beomgyu’s hand. Beomgyu smiled brightly at him, whisker dimples appearing under his eyes, and Yeonjun’s heart skipped a beat. Yeah, it was a good idea.
“Hopefully this time with better communication,” Beomgyu said. Soobin seemed satisfied with these responses, and the conversation reverted back to them fretting over Beomgyu. “Before I explain what happened, I need to show you—”
“Wait, where is Cub?” Kai said suddenly. He turned his head and seemed to realise that Yeonjun’s puppy was nowhere in sight. An abnormality for sure, considering how eager Cub was to see him every time they’d met. “You didn’t give him up for adoption, did you?”
“That’s what I was about to explain. Promise me you won’t pick me up, okay?” Beomgyu said, to three completely baffled looks. “It feels weird.”
“Why would we pick you—oh my god,” Taehyun started, and then gasped when they were all hit with a shimmer of bright light.
Cub sat down, looking up at them with his big, twinkling eyes. All three of their friends were stunned into silence, rigid in place. Yeonjun took one glance at their expressions and laughed.
“He’s a dog,” Taehyun said, pointing at Cub. Cub barked, tail hitting the ground in affirmation.
“I…” Kai squeezed his hands into fists, covering the bottom half of his face. “I had this weird feeling that he looked and acted exactly like Beomgyu, but I thought I was just crazy. Like, it was a dog.”
“He’s so,” Soobin sucked in a deep breath, “fucking,” looking like he was about to start crying again, “cute.”
He swooped down and picked Cub straight off the ground, pressing his cheek into his fur. Cub growled, batting at Soobin, but his little paws were nothing compared to Soobin’s sturdiness. Taehyun whipped out his phone and snapped pictures while Kai squealed, holding onto Taehyun’s shoulders.
“Look at you,” Soobin gushed, pressing his nose to Cub’s. Cub squirmed more, kicking his legs wildly. “So tiny! So cute! And you can’t speak. You should stay like this forever, Beomgyu.”
“Soobin-ah,” Yeonjun warned. “I really wouldn’t do that if I were you—”
He blinked and Beomgyu was a human again, retching himself away from Soobin’s grasp. Much to the other three’s disappointment. His hair was messy, standing up in random directions, a byproduct of him turning into a puppy. So cute, Yeonjun thought, his chest full of fondness.
“Yah!” Beomgyu yelled at Soobin, shaking his fist. “I told you not to pick me up.”
Soobin pouted, hands on his hips. “But you were so cute and tiny.”
“If you call me that one more time—”
“Cute and tiny?” Soobin grinned, but his smile quickly fell when Beomgyu took a step forward. The look in his eyes was murderous. Soobin shrunk back, suddenly switching gears, and then made a break for it before Beomgyu could catch his sleeve.
They chased each other in circles around Yeonjun’s living room, and Yeonjun watched them with a small, happy sigh.
It was good to be home.
(“By the way, are we not going to discuss the fact that Beomgyu can magically turn into a dog?” Soobin asked later from his place on the other side of the couch. The five of them were huddled up under a blanket, watching one of Beomgyu’s favourite movies. “I feel like we should probably discuss that.”
“Hyung, read the room,” Taehyun said, looking over Kai’s shoulder to where Yeonjun and Beomgyu were giggling with each other.
“Fine,” Soobin huffed. “But only for tonight. Tomorrow, he’s explaining everything. And letting us pet him. He’s too cute as a dog to stay as a human forever. We need at least a few hours a week with Cub. If I’d known hyung’s dog was Beomgyu, I wouldn’t have gotten so emotionally attached to him…”
“That... I can agree with,” Taehyun laughed.)