Work Text:
Beomgyu does not have feelings for Choi Yeonjun. It’s that simple. He is not infatuated with Yeonjun’s every move, he is not in love with the way Yeonjun rolls his sleeves up before dancing across the floor. He is not, and he will not be, no matter what any of his friends will say.
Beomgyu doesn’t want to ruin a good thing. That’s what always seems to happen when he opens his mouth and comes clean.
His roommate gave him a pep talk a few days ago– how to not fall in love is what Soobin had called it. And what Soobin told Beomgyu to say to himself, if he truly thinks his feelings are unrequited, was entirely useless. Whispering ‘I am not in love with Choi Yeonjun’ in the middle of barre is not going to magically dissolve the burn clinging to Beomgyu’s heart. There is no easy fix for having unrequited feelings for someone, it will only fade with time and Beomgyu has come to (kind of) accept that. It’s just a waiting game– eventually, some ick will come along and boom , problem solved, no more unrequited love.
Over and over again, every time you think you’re blushing just tell yourself that.
Beomgyu has decided that Soobin does not know the first thing about unrequited love. How could he, when both of his boyfriends asked him out on his birthday by taking him to the beach, and then giving him a whole cake when he said yes. Soobin doesn’t know what it’s like to want something that you can’t have, because that something– that someone does not want you in return.
It hurts. Beyond the undeniable feeling of guilt for loving someone while knowing they won’t love you in return, there’s the pain of never truly saying what you mean. Every sentence is a lie, meanings hidden under layers of seemingly friendly affection, the truth shoved so deep into the syllables that it’s almost undetectable. Every word carries a piece of hope in it as well, that maybe someday someone will figure it all out.
Maybe if someone really looked hard enough– if Yeonjun ever analyzed something in Beomgyu’s voice when he compliments him after class, maybe he would find it then. Perhaps just one close observation, a fleeting glance closer, and all of Beomgyu’s secrets would be revealed, spilled onto the table like a glass of rose wine that stains the tablecloth a pale shade of pink.
“Beomgyu! Pay attention, and show me that combination again.” Eden shouts from across the room, the dance teacher walking over to quickly mark the combination so Beomgyu can repeat it. He marks it on his own a few times before moving to the back left corner of the room, a flash of caramel-brown hair shining under the sun in the corner of his eye. Inhaling, Beomgyu curves his arms and straightens his legs just right , waiting for the music to start before jumping into the dance. Every time he jumps, Beomgyu feels like he’s hanging in the air, landing feather-light on his feet and moving on to the next piece in the choreo without stopping for a deep breath.
He knows Yeonjun is watching him, knows that the older dancer will be waiting for him to return to the back of the line after he finishes his final step. So, with one last flourish of his hands, Beomgyu settles into his last pose, catching his reflection in the mirror and analyzing it for any flaws, perfecting the lines of his body until all of the energy has seeped out of him. As the music fades out, Beomgyu begins to turn towards the back of the room, taking a step forward at the same time a sharp pain shoots through his left calf.
“Gyu?” Beomgyu thinks he must have made some sort of face at the pain, because now Yeonjun is rushing over to him, concern in his eyes. “Does something hurt?”
“No, I’m fine just- ah ,” Beomgyu doubles over, grabbing his calf when another bolt of pain shoots through the muscle as he moves his leg again. Yeonjun places a gentle hand on Beomgyu’s lower back, rubbing it gently in a way that would melt Beomgyu’s heart if he was in love with Yeonjun.
He’s not.
“Did you pull a muscle? One of those jumps looked a little off– you might have pulled something without realizing it.” Yeonjun helps Beomgyu stand up fully, letting him lean against his shoulder for support. Distantly, like it was the most insignificant thought in his mind, Beomgyu remembers thinking that maybe he landed that last assemblé slightly too hard. Wincing at that pain that’s only getting worse the longer Beomgyu stands, he thinks Yeonjun is definitely right.
“How am I supposed to get home? I can’t walk all the way there like this.” Beomgyu half whines the words before catching himself, mentally checking that he doesn’t have some stupid pout on his face. Yeonjun smiles reassuringly, wrapping a hand around Beomgyu’s waist (no, Beomgyu does not confess his love right then and there) and guiding him towards the door with a quick wave in Eden’s direction.
“Yeonjun, you make sure Beomgyu takes good care of that leg!” Yeonjun and Beomgyu giggle at Eden’s shouting as they close the door behind themselves and go off to pack their own respective bags. Yeonjun comes over to Beomgyu in silence after all of his things are together, sitting on the bench and watching Beomgyu tug on his sweatpants with a wince.
“I’ll take you home, Gyu.”
“It’s okay, it doesn’t hurt as much anymore so I can probably make it there myself,” Beomgyu zips his bag up, turning on his good leg to stare at Yeonjun whose pretty pink lips are pressed into a pout. “What?”
“Soobin just told me I could sleep over…” Yeonjun looks up from his phone screen with a guilty smirk and Beomgyu groans, mentally facepalming himself for ever giving Soobin Yeonjun’s contact information. The two are best friends now, and every day they sink further into becoming the true bane of Beomgyu’s existence. “He said he doesn’t know anything about treating dance injuries.”
“You’re both being dramatic. This isn’t an injury, it's just a minor setback. Just send him an article on the RICE method and it’ll be fine.” Beomgyu tries, putting on a false smile and limping his way towards the glass doors that exit their studio. Yeonjun doesn’t look convinced either, but he lets Beomgyu attempt to waddle his way out of the building and into the parking lot, only stopping him when he pulls out his phone to call an uber.
“What are you doing?” Yeonjun grabs Beomgyu’s wrist, eyebrows furrowed and a frown that is unreasonably cute.
Not cute. It’s not cute, Beomgyu.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Beomgyu taps a few buttons on the screen, getting ready to hit the send button before Yeonjun gently takes his phone out of his hand.
“I’ll drive you. If I’m sleeping over, I’ll need my car anyways.” Yeonjun unlocks Beomgyu’s phone when the screen shuts off, quickly canceling the uber and handing Beomgyu’s phone back to him. He unzips the front pocket of his bag, digging for his car keys for a minute or two then pressing the unlock button and waiting for the answering beep from his car. Beomgyu stands there silently as Yeonjun slips his bag off of his shoulders and tosses it into the backseat of the car, adjusting things so nothing will fly into the front if they have to stop short. “Come on, the sooner we get home the sooner you can get some ice on that leg.”
Beomgyu nods, defeated, and lets Yeonjun hold the door open for him until he gets settled in the car and Yeonjun carefully shuts it.
The silence isn’t awkward as they drive back to Beomgyu’s apartment, in fact it’s quite welcome and exactly what Beomgyu needs to sort his thoughts back into order. His throbbing leg is secondary to the concern that comes with Yeonjun sleeping over– things like where he can sleep and if Beomgyu can come up with a good enough excuse for Yeonjun to leave as early as possible. If it were any other situation, things would probably be easier, but of course with an injured leg, Yeonjun won’t be so easily convinced to leave. Soobin likely won’t help either– he’ll probably try to lock Yeonjun and Beomgyu in the bathroom together or some other stupid trick like that.
Beomgyu thinks that maybe telling his best friend about his non-existent (raging) crush on his other best friend was a mistake. He’ll never get past it now, not unless Yeonjun magically falls in love with him overnight. He might melt, though– the second they get home, the moment Yeonjun starts trying to take care of Beomgyu, he might just melt right then and there into a puddle of unshed tears and hidden feelings.
No feelings, Beomgyu. He’s not here for your stupid unrequited feelings.
“We’re here. I’ll grab your bag, do you think you can make it inside?” Yeonjun puts the car in park before he shuts it off, reaching around into the backseats to grab their bags. “Gyu?”
“Huh- oh, yeah. I can- I can make it inside.” Beomgyu rushes to open his door, slowing down to cautiously test the weight of his body on his leg. It hurts, the throbbing only becoming more intense when he stands on it, but it’s bearable enough that Beomgyu thinks he can make it to the elevator. Yeonjun watches him limp into the apartment complex, sticking close to Beomgyu’s side in case he can’t make it that far. Thankfully, Beomgyu is only sweating a little bit when he finally gets to the elevator, shifting his body weight so it’s mostly on his right leg as he waits for the elevator to get to the lobby floor. His left leg throbs, and Beomgyu honestly just can’t wait to sink into his bed and fall asleep the minute he gets into his room.
“Bibimbap or jajangmyeon?” Yeonjun scrolls through something on his phone, probably a delivery app if he’s asking about food. Beomgyu doesn’t really have the energy to eat either of those things, exhaustion setting in as his body starts to work on healing his leg.
“We have gimbap in the fridge. Eomma made it, she dropped it off for Soobin yesterday.” Beomgyu steps into the elevator, waiting for Yeonjun to follow him before he presses the button for the sixth floor and the doors slide shut.
“Your mom brought gimbap for Soobin?”
“Eomma has a favorite child.” Beomgyu replies plainly, fighting to stay awake the whole duration of the ride up to the sixth floor. The throbbing in his leg is practically making him more exhausted, the dull rhythm of it pushing him right down into sleep even as the elevator dings loudly every time they pass a floor. He can feel Yeonjun watching him struggle to stay awake, but Beomgyu just leans against the wall of the elevator, taking deep breaths and hoping the pain will start to fade soon.
Beomgyu wishes more than anything that the concerned look in Yeonjun’s eyes meant something more. Guilt is not an easy emotion to feel, and the other feelings it’s coming with don’t make the weight on Beomgyu’s chest any lighter. He can still feel Yeonjun’s eyes watching him, but Beomgyu turns his head anyways, gasping at how close Yeonjun is. One step, and Beomgyu could be touching Yeonjun– he could be closer . Of course, the elevator comes to a gentle stop right at that moment before Beomgyu can even meet Yeonjun’s eyes, they still get closer though, Yeonjun’s arm wrapping around Beomgyu’s waist.
“Come on, Gyu.” Yeonjun smiles, guiding Beomgyu into the hallway while supporting some of his weight with the arm around his waist. Unsurprisingly, it takes them far too long to reach Beomgyu’s apartment, despite how close it is to the elevators. Between the pain in his calf and the fatigue continuing to settle through Beomgyu’s whole body, he can barely move anymore. Yeonjun’s grip gradually becomes stronger as Beomgyu gradually weakens, until Yeonjun is simply scooping Beomgyu up into his arms and pressing his body into the wall while he types the code to unlock the door.
“Hey what took you guys so lo-” Soobin rushes over to greet them as they enter the apartment, silencing himself the minute he realizes that Beomgyu is nearly passed out in Yeonjun’s arms.
“Do you have ice?” Yeonjun walks into the living room, gently laying a barely conscious Beomgyu down on the couch. Beomgyu hums as his muscles finally relax, curling into himself to keep warm before Yeonjun drapes a throw blanket over him. He takes that as his cue to tune out, letting sleep take him away while Soobin and Yeonjun’s hushed conversation fades into the background, white noise to Beomgyu’s ears. Soft hands tug Beomgyu’s socks off, rolling the edge of his sweatpants up off his left calf. Those same hands gently poke and prod the skin there, checking for anything that looks too swollen before something cold and hard meets Beomgyu’s skin. He flinches, startling under the blanket but Yeonjun’s voice is there immediately, soothing him back into sleep.
“Relax, baby. It’s just ice, go back to sleep. I’ll wake you up in a while so you can eat something.” Fingers comb gently through Beomgyu’s hair as he readjusts to be more comfortable, resuming his dreams soon after.
A loud rumble of thunder is what actually startles Beomgyu awake. The sky is darker now with the setting sun, small slivers of that beautiful, vibrant light peeking through the storm. All of the lights in the apartment are off, even the clock under the TV. Beomgyu wonders when they lost power, twisting under the thin blanket to scan the room as well as he can in the dark. He realizes that Yeonjun is not in the room anymore, biting his lip so he doesn’t yell Yeonjun’s name. A moment alone will be good– a minute to ground himself, to stop his hopes from going too far and from blooming too big the way they sometimes do. It will only make it worse the second he allows himself to hope for too much.
Beomgyu sits up, wincing at the dull ache when he moves his leg a little bit too much. The lukewarm ice pack slides to the floor with a quiet thud , rain pattering harder against the window as Beomgyu takes a few slow, deep breaths. Moving his leg a bit more, he assesses the injury, feeling the muscle stretch when he extends his leg, and relax when he bends it into a more comfortable position. His heart relaxes too, now that Yeonjun isn’t there to make it race more with his stupid platonic affection and petnames that make Beomgyu want to sob. He knows Yeonjun doesn’t mean to make Beomgyu feel bad, he doesn’t mean to make Beomgyu feel anything at all. Maybe that’s what really hurts the most.
With a deep sigh, Beomgyu blinks his eyes to clear the sleep from them and digs around for his phone in his pocket. The words on the screen are still blurry and the brightness makes his eyes sting before Beomgyu quickly turns it down, but he can make out the time, and he’s pleasantly surprised to see that it’s only eight-thirty. He sorts through the notifications on his phone, half-ignoring Soobin’s text about going over to Kai and Taehyun’s for the night so Yeonjun and Beomgyu can have some “alone time”.
Beomgyu really, really wants to hit Soobin in the face with a pillow.
“Beomie, you awake?” Beomgyu is going to cry . The way Yeonjun whisper-yells his name this time is so soft and fond and gentle , like he’s trying to avoid waking up a baby from a deep sleep. Behind him, Beomgyu hears Yeonjun open the door to the fridge and move around some things, a bag crinkling as Yeonjun places it on the marble countertop. “I ordered some bingsu while we wait for the power to come back on. We can have gimbap tomorrow.”
Beomgyu leans his neck back to watch Yeonjun pull spoons out of the drawers for the two of them, napkins too in case the bingsu spills at all. He doesn’t speak, there’s nothing Beomgyu could say, anyways. Not with the confessions choking him again.
Someday, it’s all going to just come out , every pretty word, every piece of poetry Beomgyu has written in his head for Yeonjun. He knows it will, it always does. Whether it spills out at the end of some massive fight, and Yeonjun storms out of the apartment, angry and betrayed, or if Beomgyu gets to choose how and maybe even when. There are too many pretty things he could say to Yeonjun– after all, so many sleepless nights with phrases and words of affection floating through his mind has made Beomgyu’s feelings morph into something softer and easier. It’s the only way he’s been able to make those feelings make sense to himself.
If I write it all down for you, will you understand my heart more?
“Here,” Yeonjun hands Beomgyu the small paper cup filled with strawberry bingsu, giving him a spoon to eat with and a napkin if it starts to melt too fast. “Eat it quickly, before it melts.”
Beomgyu stares at the strawberries sliced and placed carefully in a pretty design on top of the bingsu, thinking it’s almost too pretty to eat before that thought is quickly overruled by the quiet growl that emits from his stomach. He and Yeonjun eat their bingsu quietly, the apartment completely silent too except for the scraping of their spoons against the bottoms of the cups as they finish the last few bites. The sun is completely set now, and the thunderstorm has slowed down to just a gentle rain while the clouds slowly pull away from the ground, fog lifting through the city. If Beomgyu’s artistic talent were in painting, or visual art of any kind, he would have the picture of those clouds plastered on every surface available, he thinks. He can dance to his feelings, but Beomgyu isn’t sure if he could ever dance to this.
He would paint Yeonjun too, counting every small mark and every single detail until the image was just right. Desire overwhelms him at times, his own thoughts scaring him with how much Beomgyu wishes he could trace Yeonjun’s jawline, or brush that one stray hair out of his face without giving himself away. All of their platonic touches and platonic closeness is just a disguise for Beomgyu, and a very weak one at that considering half the time it does nothing to hide the blush on his cheeks.
Beomgyu turns to look at Yeonjun, already noticing the smallest details like the scratch on his collarbone from Wooyoung’s cat the other day, and the thin silver necklace that rests just next to it. Even in the dark, Beomgyu can point out those little things because he sees Yeonjun. Beomgyu sees Yeonjun the way the poets must, if they ever see him. Perhaps he even counts as one of them now– he has written countless poems in his own mind too, most of them about yearning to be allowed to touch and hold and protect without hiding behind a wall of lies.
It’s getting to be too much again. Beomgyu’s feelings are growing larger than he can hold back, and it’s becoming too much again.
“I might go to sleep early tonight, if you don’t mind.” Beomgyu stands shakily, assessing the pain in his leg before shuffling around to face Yeonjun. “Today took a lot out of me and I just- I need a minute.”
Yeonjun smiles and nods in understanding, taking Beomgyu’s hand and squeezing. He stands, too, ready to offer Beomgyu a helping hand if he needs it as he makes his way down the hall. When they reach the threshold of Beomgyu’s room, Yeonjun presses a gentle kiss to Beomgyu’s forehead before backing off and shutting the door behind him.
Beomgyu touches the skin Yeonjun kissed with shaking fingertips, caught between disbelief and denial, wanting to both scrub the skin raw and ask Yeonjun to do it again. He shouldn’t, his feelings are already out of control again but this time Beomgyu doesn’t think he can just deny them. A friend crush, a squish, a ‘oh he’s just really attractive but totally not my type’ won’t cut it. No pep talk from Soobin, or Jeongin, or any of his friends can stop it this time.
There is no denying it, and there is no shying away from it, not anymore. Beomgyu is in love with Yeonjun, head over heels, impatiently waiting for some hint that maybe Yeonjun loves him too.
Fireworks explode in his heart, anxiety twisting in his stomach, war starting in his brain. He can’t, he said he didn’t, he told himself that he wouldn’t , but Beomgyu does . Nothing can take that away from him now, not even himself.
Beomgyu catches his own reflection in the full-length mirror in the corner of his room, pupils blown and fingers still pressed to his forehead. Even to himself, he looks unfamiliar and scared , like a deer in headlights. He feels that way too, like he caught himself in a place where he can’t just brush it off anymore.
Beomgyu stumbles over to his bed, collapsing on it and unlocking his phone with unsteady hands, pressing on Jeongin’s contact and calling him.
“Hey Gyu what’s-”
“Smack me in the face.” Beomgyu spits the words out quickly, choking on them. “Tell me I’m not in love with him. Tell me it’s just a friend crush because god I love him too much.”
The line goes silent, Beomgyu’s heavy breathing echoing in his ears. Soobin would lie to him, Soobin would let him continue to believe that he can just make the feelings go away. Jeongin won’t do that.
“You can tell yourself that, if you want to.” Nevermind, Beomgyu is going to be the one smacking Jeongin.
“It- it’s just a squish. I can’t actually love him, there’s just no way.”
“Stop doing this to yourself, Beomgyu. You’re hurting yourself the more you force yourself to deny it.” He hates that Jeongin is right, he also hates that it will hurt either way, no matter what Beomgyu does it’s going to hurt. The first tear trickles down his cheek slowly, then falls onto his thigh.
“I love him, Innie. I actually- I actually love him.”
“And that’s okay , you love him, and that’s fine .” A second tear falls, a third, and Beomgyu starts counting them, sniffling quietly and praying Jeongin won’t call him out. It feels good to cry over Yeonjun, to cry over something like this because it’s a lot to feel and Beomgyu needs to get it out. His heart already wants to start imagining the possibilities again now that Beomgyu is done lying, but he stops it before it can even start.
So Beomgyu loves Yeonjun. So he’s accepting it now, he’s living in it, with it, and Yeonjun still doesn’t like him back. That hasn’t changed, Beomgyu doesn’t know if it ever will.
“Go to sleep, Gyu. It’s late and you need to heal.” Jeongin doesn’t specify what part of Beomgyu needs to heal, his leg or his heart, but he barely waits for Beomgyu to acknowledge his goodnight before hanging up and leaving Beomgyu with his own thoughts.
He should tell Yeonjun, he should be honest about this so Yeonjun has the chance to say he’s uncomfortable with Beomgyu’s feelings.
He can’t tell Yeonjun, because then Yeonjun will leave him, because Yeonjun doesn’t like him back, because Yeonjun kisses him and holds him and calls him baby platonically.
Beomgyu lets his eyes gently close, softly stroking his fingers down from his forehead to trace over the dried tear stains on his cheeks. His heart is warm in his chest, a pleasant buzz spreading through his whole body as he sinks into a puddle of love, and regret, and fear. Memories drift by, some of them hazier than others, all of them moments where Beomgyu felt the same way he does now, but the times where he ignored it. In the car, listening to the song Yeonjun played just a few days ago, watching him sing. Yeonjun’s laugh as he ran down the stairs, Yeonjun cuddling Wooyoung’s cat, Yeonjun cooking for the two of them. Beautiful , Beomgyu’s heart whispers. Not mine , Beomgyu’s brain chimes in. He ignores both of them, he just sinks into the love he’s held within his heart for so long, and wraps it around himself completely, taking it with him as he falls asleep again.
Yeonjun is the first thought on Beomgyu’s mind when he wakes up, fuzzy memories of a dream he can recall other than Yeonjun’s hand on his waist. The gentle touch is still there, just a shadow of what Beomgyu can remember, but it’s enough to make him shiver with longing. Gentle touches down his spine, careful fingertips tracing his collarbones, a whisper of a kiss on his neck, the burn of that false reality.
Somehow, the weight on Beomgyu’s shoulders has been both lifted and doubled. It’s gone, feather light, but it’s still there , still dragging him down, and Beomgyu can’t shake it off.
It’s probably guilt, he thinks, standing and making his way into the bathroom connected to his room. Guilt, fear, desire, hopefulness and hopelessness, contradicting statements floating around his mind. Like a silk ribbon tied around his neck, it threatens to choke him, to pull too tight and to cut off his oxygen– to rip something important away from him. Unlike a silk ribbon, however, Beomgyu can’t dig his fingers up under the band of this feeling and tear it off. It’s powerful, impatient, and it’s been waiting for him yet it still has to wait some more.
Beomgyu stares at himself in the mirror for a long time, running his fingers over his cheeks, his collarbones, his waist. There’s a light shade of pink tinting his cheeks, and his hair is fluffy and messy from tossing and turning in his sleep. He’s content, simply comfortable in his body as the flood of emotions slows to a trickling stream. Taking a deep breath, Beomgyu focuses on his morning routine, washing his face extra thoroughly and exfoliating his lips until they’re soft like velvet. He lets his morning routine distract him and very slowly, and very gently, Beomgyu calms himself down, giving his brain a moment to catch up to his heart.
Then Yeonjun knocks on the door, startling Beomgyu out of his comfortable cloud.
“Morning, Gyu.” Beomgyu might faint . Yeonjun’s voice is so low in the morning, smooth and crisp yet soft and gentle still. “Breakfast is ready, come out whenever you’re ready baby.”
Beomgyu chooses to ignore the end of Yeonjun’s sentence and, yeah, now that Yeonjun mentions it, breakfast does sound good. His body probably just needs some energy, then he’ll stop feeling like an emotional, angsty, lovesick mess. Without rushing his routine, Beomgyu finishes up, massaging the last bits of lotion into his skin gently. He’s glowing, surprisingly, and he looks far more calm than he feels on the inside; it’s as if his emotions finally decided that maybe it’s worth it to stay below the surface.
Yeonjun is waiting for him in the kitchen when he walks out, two plates filled with fluffy pancakes and fresh bacon sending pleasant aromas through the main space of the apartment. There’s syrup on the counter too, maple and chocolate along with some chopped up fruits tossed together in a bowl and a tub of butter next to it. Wordlessly, Beomgyu takes the plate Yeonjun slides to him, topping his pancakes with fruits and maple syrup before settling himself on one of the barstools.
“Did you sleep well?” Yeonjun asks, quietly, crunching on a piece of bacon right after he speaks.
“As well as I could,” While dreaming about you. “With my leg being so sore.”
“Do you want to take some ibuprofen for it? Or ice- or heat, actually.” Yeonjun stops eating for a second, waiting for Beomgyu to ask for something or reply before he starts eating again.
“I’m okay, for now. Maybe after I eat I’ll take something.” Beomgyu doesn’t really want to go through the whole process of hyping himself up enough to swallow some tiny little orange pill, but he also doesn’t want to be stuck on the couch all day in pain either. He eats quickly, savoring the deliciousness of the sweet pancakes and the salty flavor bursting through from the bacon, washing it all down with a glass of strawberry milk. The few times he does look up at Yeonjun, he seems quite pleased with himself– whether it’s because of Beomgyu eating so well or because the food he made is just that good.
Beomgyu does end up taking ibuprofen for the pain, swallowing the pills uncomfortably then retreating to the safety of his bed while he waits for them to kick in. He scrolls mindlessly through his phone for a while before switching to reading a book instead, feeling far too many emotions while also feeling nothing. A better description, perhaps, is that all of his emotions feel trapped inside his body. He can’t talk about them, he can’t dance with them, he just has to sit there and let them get hotter and hotter until they boil over.
They get pretty close too, when Yeonjun casually flops onto the bed next to Beomgyu with a book of his own and a pen for annotating. He’s close to Beomgyu, his shoulder pressed to Beomgyu’s. Beomgyu’s heart flutters against his will, his palms getting sweaty as he tries to control his breathing. Yeonjun reads the book along with him, not noticing when Beomgyu’s fingers fumble trying to flip the page, or if he does, at least he doesn’t say anything. Every so often, Yeonjun will lean in closer, almost touching their cheeks together just so he can read a sentence more closely. Beomgyu’s body wants to flinch away from Yeonjun, but his brain wants him to gently pull Yeonjun in, an arm wrapping around his waist. Would Yeonjun even notice? Would he think about it, then remember the feeling of Beomgyu’s touch for days after? Like Beomgyu, would Yeonjun’s fingers ghost over whatever part of him was touched, clinging to the last of whatever warmth came from his touch?
“Aren’t you going to turn the page?” Yeonjun whispers, gently taking the book from Beomgyu’s hands when he gets no response. He rubs up and down Beomgyu’s back gently, attempting to pull Beomgyu out of his head but only succeeding in pushing him deeper. “Beomgyu?”
“Yeah- yeah, sorry.” Beomgyu flinches at the sound of his own voice, rough and hopefully not too much of a giveaway of where his mind went.
You always notice things about me. Why?
“Where did you go just now?” Yeonjun flops onto his back, taking his hand off of Beomgyu’s back. He stares at the ceiling, waiting for Beomgyu to settle down next to him before propping himself up on his elbow and looking over Beomgyu. Beomgyu can feel Yeonjun’s gaze too, as much as he can see it when he, too, lays down on his side and looks Yeonjun in the eye. His heart skips a beat again, and Beomgyu starts praying Yeonjun missed it when his eyes started to wander to Yeonjun’s lips. All he would need to do is lean in, just a few inches and-
“I’m home!” Beomgyu is actually going to kick Soobin out. He’ll thank him later for stopping Beomgyu from doing something he would have regretted, but first Beomgyu is going to kick him out.
Surprisingly, Yeonjun doesn’t even bother to move off the bed, propping himself up on his elbows and pressing closer to Beomgyu when Soobin knocks on the door. Beomgyu shivers, desperately attempting to ignore Yeonjun’s warmth seeping into his skin.
“Hi guys,” Soobin leans back on the doorframe, smirking in Beomgyu’s direction. “What have you been up to?”
Beomgyu glares at Soobin when he raises his eyebrows, mouthing a few choice words in his direction. Yeonjun on the other hand sighs, rolling over to squish Beomgyu completely with a satisfied giggle.
“Just reading.” It’s like Yeonjun wants Soobin to think something happened between them, but he wouldn’t, he couldn’t .
“ I was just reading, you were squishing me.” Beomgyu wheezes out from beneath Yeonjun, his hands cautiously finding Yeonjun’s waist to lift him off of his chest and back onto the mattress. Yeonjun doesn’t even flinch at the physical touch, used to the touchiness between him and Beomgyu. The only difference this time is that Beomgyu isn’t thinking about Yeonjun in a purely platonic way, and now he’s entirely absorbed in how perfectly Yeonjun’s waist fits in his hands.
He shouldn’t have touched Yeonjun’s waist, shouldn’t have felt the edge of Yeonjun’s sweatpants under his fingers. Now he’ll never be able to get enough, yet he’ll never be able to touch Yeonjun like that again.
There’s tears again, waiting impatiently for Yeonjun and Soobin to leave so Beomgyu can let them out. They sting, giving him a preview of just how much pain he still has to endure.
Beomgyu hates how willing he is to do it, how he knows he would hurt like this over and over again if only it meant Yeonjun would kiss him just once. It’s bad , he’s in so deep, over his head even, however Beomgyu has always known he’s running out of air. Only if he lets go of his control, and screams out those vulnerable three words, can he breathe again.
“I’m going for a walk.” Beomgyu murmurs suddenly, flipping himself over and gently setting his feet on the floor. His leg throbs weakly, but not enough for Beomgyu to complain about it anymore, thanks to the ibuprofen. He might strain it more, and he’ll probably regret it later– right now though, Beomgyu just needs space .
Yeonjun starts to protest, but Soobin is quick to jump in and distract him for long enough that Beomgyu can rush out of the room and out of the apartment without too much of a complaint.
The sky is beautiful, wispy clouds creating purple-tinted patterns and shapes across the sky. Almost all of the pavement is still wet, dry patches where the sun has taken all of the water back into the atmosphere so it can rain again tomorrow. People pass in a colorful blur, everyone worrying about their own lives, no one noticing the redness around Beomgyu’s eyes and how he still limps. Inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, Beomgyu takes one step forward, then another, never turning to look at his apartment behind him. He just lets the air wash over him, the ambience of the city taking his thoughts away.
Yeonjun is still at his apartment when Beomgyu finally opens the door, sitting on the couch typing something out on his laptop. Beomgyu watches silently as Yeonjun huffs and takes something off of the side table along with a microfiber cloth to wipe it with. He shuts the screen off, and it’s then that Beomgyu catches the label on the side of the bottle.
“Uh Yeonjun?”
“Yeah, give me a minute. I’m just cleaning my laptop.” Yeonjun takes the cap off of the bottle and aims it at his screen, unlocking it so he can spray it.
“No- Yeonjun you just- no, don’t close it Yeonjun, that was glue- oh.” Yeonjun closes the laptop, his eyes widening when he processes what Beomgyu said. He stares at the microfiber cloth in his hand in horror, frantically trying to open his laptop as Beomgyu starts cackling. Clawing at the screen, Yeonjun scrambles to pry it open, his efforts resulting in his laptop case being torn off and thrown to the ground, and Beomgyu can’t help the words that fall out of his mouth when he sees Yeonjun’s face.
“I love you so much.” Although he’s practically in tears from laughing so hard, the words still sound a little heavier, less jokingly with a more serious weight behind them. Yeonjun must hear it too, but even though it’s written plainly on his face, he doesn’t say anything about it.
“Are you hungry?” Yeonjun asks quietly, sighing in defeat when he sets his laptop down on the side table. “I made sure Soobin saved some gimbap for you.”
“Yeah,” Beomgyu says a little too quickly, jumping on anything that will pull attention away from his accidental-maybe-kind of confession. “I’ll go get-”
“No- I mean- you just sit. Rest your leg, that walk probably didn’t help much, you’ll be sore.”
“I’m already sore.” Beomgyu starts to laugh, trailing off when Yeonjun rushes into the kitchen. He can hear the fridge opening as he gets comfortable on the couch, drawers opening too and utensils being shuffled around. Yeonjun comes speed-walking back into the room with the gimbap on a plate, the chopsticks carefully set on the side gripped under Yeonjun’s thumb so they don’t fall off. Beomgyu smiles politely as Yeonjun sits on the couch, reaching to take the chopsticks from the plate before Yeonjun frowns and shrinks away. With a roll of his eyes, Beomgyu reaches for the chopsticks and the plate more insistently, but this time Yeonjun huffs and pouts.
“Let me feed you,” He whispers so quietly, Beomgyu almost doubts his hearing until Yeonjun picks up the first piece of gimbap and guides it towards his mouth.
“Yeonjun, I hurt my leg, not my arms. I can feed myself.” Yeonjun just shakes his head, setting the plate down on his lap and smacking Beomgyu’s hands away when he tries one last time to reach for it. Beomgyu settles down after that, letting Yeonjun feed him until the gimbap is gone. He hadn’t even realized he was that hungry– it didn’t take long for Beomgyu to zone out and trust Yeonjun to do the work.
It’s Yeonjun pulling his hands away, setting the chopsticks and the plate down on the side table that wakes Beomgyu up again. Beomgyu basks in the trust– in that love– whatever form it’s in, for a minute before the vulnerability starts to sink in.
He never means to open up to Yeonjun, in any form, and when he does, it’s not of his own will. Despite having known Yeonjun for years now, Beomgyu doesn’t want to go running to him every time something is wrong. He doesn’t want to seek out Yeonjun’s comfort, or to want it at all, for that matter. That’s not safe for him. Being vulnerable with Yeonjun is not safe, letting Yeonjun comfort him and care for him and in turn, letting his own feelings grow, is not safe.
“Good?” Yeonjun asks, setting a careful hand on Beomgyu’s back. His hand is tense, like he wants to be gently rubbing it but he doesn’t want to make this moment any more intimate than it is. Beomgyu is tense, too, wanting to lean into the touch while wanting to reject it at the same time.
No, he can allow himself this. One small moment of comfort is okay, one little cut can still heal. Beomgyu still hesitates, running through a thousand possible scenarios in his mind all over again before he lets himself lean more heavily into Yeonjun’s hand.
“Yeah, thank you.”
He wonders if he is reading into things too much. Those little gestures that Yeonjun does that Beomgyu thinks could mean more, probably just mean strong platonic love to Yeonjun. It’s all mixed signals, except Beomgyu only wants them to be just that. There’s a line, and although sometimes either of them might step on it, or smudge it, or bend it, they’re both careful to never cross it. Still, Beomgyu wonders if the line is beginning to blur beyond repair.
Yeonjun leaves later that day, promising to come back tomorrow and check on Beomgyu, and to make sure he’s not trying to recover faster than his body will allow. Soobin laughs with him at the door before he leaves, Beomgyu sits on the couch and watches, trying to ignore the pain in his heart. He knows it meant nothing, at least nothing more than what a close friend would do for another close friend, strong platonic love, right? But the way Yeonjun fed him, the concern Yeonjun showed, the way Yeonjun touched him, tried to be close to him– was there more written between the lines? Did Yeonjun feel it all too?
Beomgyu wonders, and he wonders and he wanders through the apartment after Soobin retreats to his room, the space somehow colder without Yeonjun in it. It’s ridiculous that Beomgyu feels so hollow even though Yeonjun wasn’t even here that long and he’ll be back tomorrow anyways– it’s just that Beomgyu’s heart wants more than it can have.
The time passes in a blur, between Yeonjun’s daily check-ins and Beomgyu’s few visits to the studio to watch as everyone else perfects their choreography. His legs heals, painfully slowly, but his flexibility returns and the pain eases. Yeonjun is there through it all, gently massaging Beomgyu’s leg every so often and feeding him small pieces of fruits during his break before he goes back onto the dancefloor. There’s a lot more to see from the ground– Beomgyu feels like he’s a mirror, watching Yeonjun. He notices every line, every arch, every sharp angle. Every detail he’d never seen before– too caught up in his own dancing to truly pay attention– suddenly hit him at full force. Beomgyu’s heart throbs in his chest, love and yearning and so much wanting threatening to explode if Beomgyu doesn’t just-
“How is the leg feeling today?” Yeonjun strides over to bend down next to Beomgyu, grabbing his water bottle and taking a few sips. He looks over Beomgyu like he always does, scanning him for any visible injuries or tension with gentle concern in his eyes. Just very strong, very platonic love. Nothing more than that.
“It’s okay,” Beomgyu stretches his leg, carefully extending it against the floor and rolling his ankle a few times to test how much his muscles ache. Today, actually, it feels pretty good, almost completely healed.
“Eden said that if you want to, after class, we can do a few things and ease you back into the choreography.” Yeonjun offers, his voice breaking as he leans into a stretch of his own. The light highlights all the right places, the shadows contouring his body and making Yeonjun look practically unreal in the most beautiful way possible, and Beomgyu’s eyes suddenly start to burn with unshed tears again. The dancer in Beomgyu knows that now that he’s mostly recovered, he should be trying to pick up where he left off, but his heart is whispering warnings in his ear. His heart isn’t ready to dance with Yeonjun like they’re madly in love again, for Yeonjun’s hands to squeeze his waist through the sheer fabric of his custom made top for their performance. He’ll drown in it, the music, the movement, the feelings . It will become an ocean and Beomgyu will be powerless to resist its currents.
You can have me, all of my body and all of my soul, just please don’t let me sink too far on my own.
“Okay.” Yeonjun smiles at Beomgyu’s reply, satisfied. He squeezes Beomgyu’s shoulder before setting his water bottle down and heading back out onto the floor just in time for Eden to walk back in. Eden wastes no time in turning the music back on, and once again Beomgyu is captivated. Yeonjun sways to it, his movements precise yet so elegant and fluid he looks like he’s making it up as he goes. He watches himself in the mirror, then closes his eyes, letting himself drift away fully as the music builds up, visibly exhaling when the music begins to trail off until he’s back in his starting position.
A singular tear falls down Beomgyu’s face, and Yeonjun opens his eyes to meet Beomgyu’s.
I want you, you are the only one so please, I need you please let me love you. Let me treasure you, let me be the air you breathe, let me be yours entirely.
“Alright, that’s enough for tonight, everyone enjoy your weekend I’ll see you on Monday.” Eden yells to the class, bowing before unplugging his phone and heading for his office. There’s a quiet buzz as the rest of the dancers clap and gather their things, most of them splitting into groups while they decide what to do with the rest of their Friday night. Yeonjun exchanges a few words with some of them, but his focus remains on Beomgyu, and it’s only a few minutes before everyone clears out and Yeonjun is walking over to him again. Beomgyu doesn’t bother to wipe the tear, it’s probably gone anyways but even if it isn’t he knows Yeonjun already saw it.
“We can start wherever you want, Gyu.” Yeonjun extends a hand to Beomgyu, kneeling in front of him when Beomgyu doesn’t take it. “Or we can go for a swim instead. Wooyoung and San showed me this really nice pool a few weeks ago, they said it’s best to go there at night.”
In other words, it’s Yeonjun’s hands on his waist or Yeonjun shirtless in a pool at night. Such wonderful options, such a difficult choice.
“We can dance I- I want to dance first, then we can go.” Beomgyu delicately sets his hand in Yeonjun’s, letting himself be pulled up and into the center of the room.
“Let’s start slow, no music.” Beomgyu nods, but he doesn’t feel so ready anymore. Yeonjun studies him as he lifts his hands to gently hold Beomgyu’s waist, squeezing in a way that’s probably meant to be reassuring but all it does is make Beomgyu more nervous. Lifting his hands to Yeonjun’s neck, Beomgyu closes his eyes, summoning his character so at least he can feel like he’s hiding behind the mask of the persona he’s meant to be playing for this dance.
I’m yours, I’m already yours all you have to do is tell me that you want me, please.
At least Beomgyu’s body still remembers the movements, and he lets Yeonjun take him through it slowly. The only sounds in the studio are their own footsteps and Beomgyu’s own heartbeat in his ears, pounding so loudly he thinks Yeonjun must be able to hear it. The sky is dark outside, casting a shadow through the dimly lit studio but making Yeonjun look so breathtaking, Beomgyu can barely take it.
I am in love with you. For the past three years of my life, I have been falling in love with you every single day, and I can’t take it anymore. I need you, I need you to hold my heart.
They do their choreography three times before Yeonjun finally steps away to turn on the music and dim the lights, the mood shifting the second the first few notes of music start to play. Beomgyu has never truly read into the lyrics of the song itself, only the dance they’re doing and the way Yeonjun holds him so gently, but now he hears the yearning in them. The desperation, the love, the pure, raw passion written into every piece of the song. He can hear it, and he can feel it all the way through to his fingertips as they rest on Yeonjun’s shoulders.
“Are you ready?” Yeonjun whispers while Beomgyu fights the urge to confess every single one of his feelings and desires in one, emotional kiss.
I need you to feel it, the burning in my heart for you, I need you to know it.
“Yes.” Beomgyu lets himself go, falling into the music completely until the only thing keeping him stable is Yeonjun’s hands on his waist. He has hated those hands, hated how close they got to touching him but then they would shrink away. He has wanted them too, wanted to know how they feel in his hair, on his face, against his neck.
This is as close as he will ever get to that. This is as close as he will ever get to Yeonjun touching him like he means something.
Time moves in slow motion, their dance seeming to stretch on forever. It feels like they become one, like they collide and never separate again even though Beomgyu knows they have to eventually– because no matter how much he wants Yeonjun, Yeonjun does not want him.
That thought strikes him suddenly, painfully in the heart, tears rapidly filling his eyes. He must stiffen in Yeonjun’s arms, because Yeonjun is pulling away, and saying something that Beomgyu can’t even hear. Yeonjun guides Beomgyu over to the bench first, then he goes back to turn off the music and brighten the lights just a little bit so he can see better.
“Beomgyu. Hey, what happened?” Yeonjun kneels in front of Beomgyu, taking both of his hands in his own and squeezing them so gently that Beomgyu lets out a sob against his will.
“Hurts.” He doesn’t say where, figuring that Yeonjun will just think it’s his leg again. Yeonjun doesn’t need to know that it’s Beomgyu’s heart, that he feels like he’s burning from the inside out and it’s entirely his own fault. He can’t control his stupid emotions, Beomgyu can’t even understand them sometimes, and now he can’t stop them from eating him alive. From choking him.
“Where does it hurt?” Damn you, Choi Yeonjun. Damn you for not assuming it’s my stupid leg, damn you for being so beautiful it physically pains me to look at you. Damn you for being the one thing that I want more than anything else in this world.
“Let’s just go swim- please.”
“But-”
“I’m fine. Just give me a minute to grab my stuff.” Beomgyu doesn’t wait for Yeonjun to reply, he barely even gives him the chance to, quickly leaving the studio to run back into the dressing room for his bag. He tugs on a fresh pair of sweatpants, balling the old pair up and shoving into his bag with the rest of his clothes. Beomgyu’s hands shake as he tries to zip his bag shut, his breaths coming quicker and shorter every second. Adrenaline is shooting through his veins even though nothing even really happened , Beomgyu is just in his head again, wondering if maybe this is it, if this is when it’s finally going to spill out of him. He’s had so many dangerously close calls, but none of them have felt like this. None of them have felt so risky– like he’s on the edge of the cliff and either Yeonjun will hand him the parachute, or he won’t.
They don’t speak on the short walk to the pool, the air between them entirely too thick. Beomgyu’s hand aches with the urge to hold Yeonjun’s, but as always he forces it down, tries to suffocate it in his own heart. He can’t, he shouldn’t. He doesn’t.
“It’s on the roof of this building, Wooyoung gave me the code for it too.” Yeonjun pushes the door open and leads Beomgyu inside, calling the elevator for them. Each second that passes feels longer than the last one, each breath Beomgyu takes feels somehow like it’s not enough air. There’s not enough space in this place for him to exist anymore, his feelings are seeping out of his body and taking over the space around him.
Surely it’s obvious to Yeonjun by now. Surely he’s only being nice while he figures out a way to let Beomgyu down easily, because there’s no way he actually wants Beomgyu. Not when he could have any other boy in the world, a smarter boy, one that isn’t broken, one that won’t need reassurance. One that would be so much easier to love.
The elevator dings, the doors sliding open to reveal a dimly lit hallway lined with doors to apartments. Yeonjun smiles, grabbing Beomgyu’s hand and tugging him down to the end of the hallway where the stairs are. Beomgyu’s heart swells with hope briefly– and for just this moment, he allows it only so the weight on his heart might lift. He wants to enjoy the time he has with Yeonjun, before he has to distance himself for the safety of his own heart, because Yeonjun isn’t here for his stupid unrequited feelings.
Yeonjun taps the numbers into the keypad, the heavy door opening to reveal a staircase lit by moonlight seeping in from the glass door at the top. A few strands of fairy lights line the walls, lighting the parts of the staircase that the moonlight doesn’t reach.
“Will you be okay getting up?” Yeonjun asks, taking the first step without letting go of Beomgyu’s hand.
Can you feel it? Can you feel my love for you?
“I’ll be fine.” Beomgyu squeezes Yeonjun’s hand once before he lets go, gesturing for Yeonjun to continue going up the stairs and the space around them becomes silent again. Beomgyu tries to not sink back into his head, but now he’s overthinking in the other way. What if this is Yeonjun asking him out? Confessing to him ? It’s unlikely, very unlikely, but there’s so many what ifs, and Beomgyu wants so badly for one of them to come true. The flirting could’ve been flirting, the petnames could’ve been romantic, this whole time, Yeonjun could’ve been feeling the same way and Beomgyu could’ve been too oblivious to see it.
Yeonjun unlocks the door at the top of the stairs with the same combination he used for the bottom, swinging it open and letting the sounds of the city drift in to meet them. Pink and purple lights dimly outline Yeonjun as he walks out onto the rooftop, Beomgyu trailing close behind him. Both of them drop their stuff on some lounge chairs off the edge of the pool, Yeonjun easily tugging his shirt over his head while Beomgyu hesitates.
Yeonjun doesn’t really wait though, slipping his pants off as well and stepping into the pool in just his boxers. He sighs as the water surrounds him, tipping his head back and running his hands through his hair and once again Beomgyu just wants permission to touch , to feel Yeonjun under his fingers .
He averts his gaze to the concrete floor, ignoring Yeonjun’s entire existence while he undresses down to his boxers and shuffles over to the edge of the pool. Beomgyu sits first, then swings his legs over the edge and drops them into the water. It’s pleasantly warm but not too hot, just enough to take the edge off of the cold air against the rest of his body. The lights are a nice touch, shifting from blue to purple to pink to red and then back to blue again. They add ambience, making the atmosphere only that much more serene and peaceful, despite Beomgyu’s raging battle in his heart.
There are so many pretty things I want to say to you, my darling, Just tell me I can.
“Aren’t you coming in?” Yeonjun wades over to Beomgyu, his hair now wet with small drops of water falling down his face. Beomgyu feels like all of the air has been punched out of his chest, and Yeonjun is smiling at him so beautifully, his whole face bright. Beomgyu nods, slipping over the edge of the pool and into the shallow water, dipping his head under to get his hair wet. He flips his hair when he comes back up, whipping water into Yeonjun’s face. Yeonjun gasps, gently swiping the back of his palm across his face before smirking and looking at Beomgyu again, advancing slowly towards him.
“Yeonjunnie…” Beomgyu backs away, giggling as he moves, but the water keeps him from moving too fast, his still barely sore leg not helping him escape Yeonjun. “I didn’t mean to…”
Yeonjun pauses, cupping his hands and dipping them into the water. He takes them out slowly, carefully, hesitating and making up his mind to throw the water in Beomgyu’s face. Beomgyu takes it very personally– Yeonjun basically just declared war against him– and if he wants a water fight, oh, Beomgyu will give him a water fight.
“Hit me with your best shot, Gyu.” Yeonjun cackles and tries to escape before Beomgyu can catch up to him, failing miserably when Beomgyu launches himself forwards and successfully shoves Yeonjun into the water.
They chase each other around the pool until they’re both laughing breathlessly, Yeonjun dragging himself out of the warm water first to grab towels for both of them. He holds out one for Beomgyu to take when he steps out of the pool, wrapping the other one around his shoulders.
“We should’ve brought a blanket,” Beomgyu says, drying his hair off in the towel before wrapping it around his shoulders too, shivering. “How did you think to bring towels, but not a blanket?”
“Who brings a blanket to a pool?” Yeonjun chuckles, sitting on an empty lounge chair and patting the spot next to him, silently asking Beomgyu to sit with him there. Beomgyu only hesitates for a second, but another shiver shoots through his body and being close to Yeonjun sounds a lot less scary when he is, quite literally, freezing. He sits a few inches away from Yeonjun, not expecting Yeonjun’s arm to wrap around his shoulders and pull him in closer. Adjusting their towels until both of their torsos are almost fully covered, Yeonjun sighs, content and pleasantly worn out from playing with Beomgyu in the pool.
Beomgyu’s heart beats faster when Yeonjun’s hand brushes against the back of his, his fingers twitching on pure instinct, wanting to gently take Yeonjun’s hand in his own. He could– one small movement is all it would take, and then he could be holding Yeonjun’s hand, rubbing his fingers over his knuckles soothingly. He won’t. Enjoying a few sweet moments with Yeonjun before he runs away doesn’t mean indulging in all of his desires, it doesn’t mean he can indulge himself in his love. Not fully, anyways.
The cold air bites against his skin, contrasting the warmth of Yeonjun’s body pressed against his under the towels. They’re so close, so painfully, unbearably close as the moonlight shines down on them and all of the space around them. A few bright stars flicker in the sky despite the light pollution from the city, and Beomgyu tries to take a mental picture of each and every single one of them. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Yeonjun staring at the sky too, his eyes wandering from the horizon to the moon to some constellation that’s barely visible.
It’s us, it’s always us.
“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” Every part of Beomgyu freezes, every thought on his mind vanishes. His fingers go numb, his eyes stop seeing, the world around him becoming a blur at those few, simple words. Everyone knows what they mean, what they can mean, but surely Yeonjun doesn’t mean them like that . The moon is beautiful tonight, full and perfectly round, glowing down on the whole city; those words aren’t meant for Beomgyu, no amount of wanting can change that.
Tears brimming in his eyes, Beomgyu turns his head to look at Yeonjun, expecting to find him still staring at the moon, shocked to find that he’s already looking at Beomgyu, a tear trickling down his cheek.
It’s you, it’s always been you.