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Summer hits Soobin in all five of his senses simultaneously, somehow all meeting in the middle: hearing in the crashing ocean waves and children screaming; taste in the ice cream he shovels into his mouth; smell in the harsh sunscreen sting; touch in the gritty sand between his toes and the gentle breeze on his bare back; and then sight— sight, the middle, when he looks up at the waves and sees Choi Yeonjun idly paddling out on his surfboard, tanned skin glowing like summer.
He leans further back against the wooden bench, sighing fondly, and continues eating his ice cream. It’s watermelon flavored, a little bit sickly sweet, but not entirely awful. He’ll probably end up buying it again.
“Are you coming?” He hears Yeonjun call out, hands cupped around his mouth. He’s sitting upright on his board, blonde hair puffed up from the ocean breeze.
Soobin swallows, yelling back, “Not today! Just enjoying the view!”
He hears a playful scoff from the boy but doesn’t get any other answer. He watches Yeonjun turn back around, and readjust his legs so he’s laying flat on the board, then start to paddle out further.
The waves are beautiful today, now that summer has truly broken into the city, golden and hazy. He watches the sunset, and he watches Yeonjun, and he doesn’t even laugh when Yeonjun loses his balance off a wave he thought was smaller than it actually was.
Soobin quite likes the way he laughs at himself, actually.
It’s really one of Soobin’s favorite pastimes. Watching Yeonjun do his thing. He gets so little time to do so like he does now; so few weeks in the space of summer before he returns back to his shabby apartment in the city for school, where he gets to bask in the ambiance of the sun and even enjoy his best friend’s teasing. He takes another bite of his mostly melted watermelon ice cream, and sighs.
The day is swinging by quickly, as is the season. He blinks and the sun is directly above him. Takes another bite and a week has passed. But he supposes he has to enjoy it for what it is. He puts the cup down on the bench beside him, and stands.
He sighs again, turning to his truck, debating against opening the bed and pulling his own board out from it to join Yeonjun on the waves. He’s not wearing sunscreen, and he didn’t bring an extra pair of shorts, and he has a lot of cleaning to do at home.
But this is about enjoying the few weeks he has left. So he unlocks the back door and flips it down, hefting the yellow board over his shoulder, and jogs down to the edge of the water.
He hisses at the cold water against his heated skin, but dives in anyway.
—
He’s shaking his hair like a wet dog when Yeonjun elbows him in the ribs, making Soobin shove him into the door next to them. Yeonjun scoffs, but smiles, and continues walking, kicking little tufts of sand up with his bare feet.
Post-surfing Yeonjun is always a bit more relaxed, probably because he’s tired. Always a bit more willing to go along with whatever Soobin throws out.
They end up at Soobin’s neighbor’s chicken joint, a small stand with outdoor patio seating and the best pineapple juice in town. Yeonjun doesn’t argue when Soobin pays for their food, mostly busy worrying about the light sunburn on his shoulders from earlier. Soobin’s taken enough chastising about forgetting sunscreen of all things.
It’s a quick dinner, Soobin working his way through a terribly greasy chicken sandwich, and Yeonjun eating what is probably more than his body weight in fried chicken. They’re sat in the back of Soobin’s white truck, the bed door opened up, so they can sit cross-legged on the empty space. The breeze still blows across the open top, and it smells like home.
“This is why I tell you to pack snacks for when you go out,” Soobin hums, pointing accusingly with the sandwich in his hand. Yeonjun could probably eat Soobin’s sandwich and then some.
“What good does that do?” Yeonjun asks, uncrossing his legs to swing them over the edge of the car.
“Trail mix is a great source of energy. Freeze-dried fruit. Almonds, even. Better than fried chicken energy.”
Yeonjun rolls his eyes. “You take one nutrition class and suddenly you’re talking about freeze-dried fruit.”
Soobin laughs. “Maybe I’ll take another one when I go back to school.”
“So you can bother me about my energy intake even more?” Yeonjun says through a mouthful of chicken.
“Exactly so I can do that.”
Yeonjun sighs, a bit fond, and puts his chicken back down onto his paper plate. The sky is darker now and a bit purple, but Soobin can still see Yeonjun’s face, illuminated by the string lights around the small restaurant.
“How come you didn’t want to go onto the water today at first?” The other boy asks.
Soobin shrugs. “Was tired. Lazy. I was fine just watching you.”
“Aren’t you always,” Yeonjun replies, that sleazy kind of smile on his lips he gets when he knows Soobin is being soft.
Soobin pauses. “Kind of. I would’ve gotten rid of you by now if I wasn’t.”
Yeonjun makes a little laugh in the back of his throat, and leans forward, tucking himself into Soobin’s space. There’s an evening breeze blowing his hair around, showing where the roots of his dark hair pokes up under the blonde strands. He leans up, eyes playful, like he’s gonna go in for a kiss, and then — blows a breath into his face. Soobin scrunches his nose.
“Ew— you have grease breath you monster, leave me alone—” Soobin says, lightly pushing Yeonjun away.
“And so do you, so I think it cancels out— math, you know—” Yeonjun’s words come out lazy, a bit tired, as he moves closer again.
“That’s not how math works—”
Yeonjun’s arms are around his neck, and the last bite of Soobin’s sandwich is left ignored next to him.
“We get it, college boy, now stop talking.”
And then Yeonjun’s on him, all over him, heated skin and warm lips and a delicate hand on his shoulder. Soobin isn’t all that great at resisting Yeonjun’s mouth, and sighs into it when Yeonjun smiles. He’s got a lapful of a blonde beauty, so he’s not really to be blamed for settling a hand on the boy’s waist and kissing him back.
It’s wonderful, Yeonjun’s sight, Yeonjun’s hands, Yeonjun’s tongue in his mouth, as warm as the sunset, the brush of his hair on Soobin’s forehead.
He’s not nearly done drinking his fill when the voice of the store owner interrupts.
“Boys! Right in front of the store?”
Yeonjun leans back, swinging his legs away to sit a polite few inches away from Soobin, who chuckles sheepishly, entire body probably glowing red. It’s very easy to lose track of his surroundings with Yeonjun around.
Yeonjun throws a half-hearted salute to the man, replying, “We’re heading out, sir!”
The man laughs to himself, shaking his head, and turns around to go back into his stand.
Yeonjun turns his head back to Soobin, who wears a grim look on his face. He must find Soobin’s absolute horror hilarious, because he bursts into laughter, a sputter coming out like he can’t stop it.
Soobin can’t stop himself from laughing, too.
—
Not that Soobin would deny that he and Yeonjun are tied at the hip, have been since they were both twelve years old, but he does enjoy time to himself every once in a while.
On one Monday morning he wakes earlier than he usually would, because of the bird calls outside his window. They’re being particularly loud. He rolls around for a few minutes, but ultimately accepts that he’s not going back to sleep.
Begrudgingly he rises from his bed and tosses a tee on with a pair of swim trunks, and steps outside. It’s probably sometime around 7 in the morning, a bit dewy and pink outside. He wanders down the street for a few minutes, hands in his pockets, not thinking about much. He’s not wearing shoes— people around his city rarely do, much preferring the sand on their skin that somehow always manages to dust even the concrete areas.
It brings him to the beach eventually. Calm, rolling waves, empty of any people, the air somehow still even as it crashes on.
He sits there, in the sand, knees to his chest and head resting atop them, and breathes in. Out. Runs through all the memories of this summer. Most of them involve Yeonjun in some way. They always do.
He remembers coming to the same beach after school in their younger years, abandoning homework on the shore in favor of tossing their shirts off and jumping into the waves. They still do of course, though without the looming threat of assignments hanging. But it was somehow a bit of carefree time that he doesn’t get any more. Not since they graduated, not since Soobin left to go to college and Yeonjun stayed to one day take over his father’s board shop. It hasn’t been the same since then— since Yeonjun first held onto his shoulders in the ocean, and kissed him as if he’d been waiting to since they were fourteen.
He supposes things haven’t really changed much. Yeonjun, his best friend, his home, the sand, the sea, and all the years between them.
—
A few days later Soobin is kicking the same stone down his street as he walks to his parents’ house, delicately tapping it with the bottom of his sandal so his exposed feet don’t get hurt. It helps him think.
When he enters the front gate, his mother turns over her shoulder from where she’s pruning the dead stalks of leaves from the bushes in front of the porch.
“You’re back finally?” She calls, standing straight.
“Caught Yeonjun on the way down. He gave me a ride to the shop,” Soobin answers. “Got looped into talking with his dad.”
“As usual. But that was kind of him. I haven’t seen enough of him this summer— bring him over for dinner one day, okay, hun? Before you have to go back to school.”
Mhm, Soobin hums, and walks into the house. She follows him, taking off her gardening gloves and setting them on a counter.
“Anyway,” she says, “Lunch is on the stove. Your dad made some before he left. You might need to reheat it, though, since you took all day to go get a can of wax.”
Soobin nods, wandering over to the stove before she can see his cheeks heating. Yeah, he’d taken forever, but… not entirely because he was talking to Yeonjun’s father. He clears his throat, and turns the stove on.
His mother’s voice breaks his thoughts. “Are you okay, honey?”
“Huh? Oh— yeah,” Soobin answers dumbly. “What do you mean?”
She’s quiet again. Then she’s asking something he honestly wasn’t expecting—
“What ever happened to that girl you were seeing? The blonde one?”
He blinks. “Mina? Oh, we— it didn’t work out. She’s a lovely girl, but we don’t really… talk anymore.”
He stirs the pot, unsure. “Why do you ask?”
“I thought maybe that was what was making you act all spacey, honestly.”
That gets a little laugh out of him. He’s definitely thinking of a blonde, but perhaps not the one his mother would think. “It’s— it’s a summer thing, you know. Thinking about what comes next.”
She nods. “Might help you to think about what comes now.”
He turns the stove off, and sighs.
—
About halfway through this year’s summer break Soobin had actually moved all of his shit into the spare back house that his parents owned.
Well, more of a side house, some ten feet away from the two-story his parents lived in. One bedroom, a kitchen, bathroom, enough of a living room for Soobin to lay spread-eagle and stare at the ceiling wondering what he’s doing with all his time. That kind of a house. Granted he hadn’t had all that much to move out beside what was in his bedroom at his parents’ house, but it was a move all the same. And it was his house, all the same.
And that had definitely had… some kind of an effect on his and Yeonjun’s habits, so to speak.
“You told Beomgyu we’d meet him at the dock today,” Soobin sighs out, fingers running through Yeonjun’s bleach blonde hair, breath coming out stunted and heavy.
“Not for another half hour,” Yeonjun replies, and mashes their lips together again. He lets Soobin trace a hand up his spine before he breaks apart again, whispering, “Besides. What’s a better way to pass the time?”
Soobin can’t argue with him there. He tugs Yeonjun’s arm, brings him back down.
The clock strikes noon not long after, reminding Soobin with its clicks that they need to stop and go be good friends. Even if the beach is only a block away, they can’t be that late— and clearly out of breath.
“Okay,” Soobin hums eventually. “He’s really going to be upset now.”
Yeonjun leans back, rolling his eyes. “Just say you hate kissing me.”
But he really, really, doesn’t. He just snorts. Yeonjun sighs, climbing off of Soobin and walking around to gather his things. Soobin has his bag with his towel already ready to go, so he just sits and watches, running fingers through his dark hair to calm it down.
The older boy eventually comes to a halt, phone in hand, and slides a pair of sunglasses onto his nose, sitting just low enough that they look objectively cool. He fillings the door open, and heads out.
“To the beach!” Yeonjun yells.
Soobin follows him and adds, “To the beach.”
—
Beomgyu immediately throws a volleyball at the back of Soobin’s head when he isn’t looking. Not that he cares if Soobin is looking. He’d do it even if they were making direct eye contact, probably.
For about two hours the trip had been playing a game of volleyball— more of a game of ‘keep it from hitting the floor’ which Soobin is awful at— and it had gone long into the evening.
After a few hours, the three are wiped out, sand uncomfortably sticking to their skin.
“M’hungry,” Yeonjun sighs, catching the volleyball.
“Snack bar is open,” Beomgyu calls, his open hands waving for Yeonjun to throw it to him. “You should buy us all something refreshing. Since you’re the oldest, and all.”
“You’re very lucky I’m in a good mood,” Yeonjun grumbles. “Otherwise I’d just get one for me and Soobin and leave you hanging. Seriously.”
Beomgyu laughs, like he knows Yeonjun wouldn’t dare. Yeonjun rolls his eyes, and toes his sandals back on.
He throws a handful of sand at Beomgyu, smacks a kiss on the side of Soobin’s hair, and jogs off toward the street. Once he’s out of sight, Soobin turns to Beomgyu, who’s rolling the ball around in his hands thoughtfully.
“So how’s that going?” Beomgyu hums, tossing the volleyball above his head and catching it. “Him.”
“Hm? I mean, he’s cool?”
“I mean like— him. You guys.”
“Oh… we’re friends. You know how it goes.”
“Just letting him pass time,” Beomgyu says with an eyebrow raised.
“Yeah, honestly? I think he kisses me just to give his mouth something to do that isn’t talking,” Soobin laughs.
Beomgyu gives him a stink eye, and throws the ball at him again.
—
The next week goes like that, actually.
Beomgyu, much like Yeonjun, likes to show up unannounced at Soobin’s place with some grand idea for how to spend the day. Which is good, for the most part, because Soobin would otherwise spend time scrolling through his phone while sprawled out on his carpet until he got hungry. It’s not great when Beomgyu barges in whole Soobin isn’t alone, of course, and then gets upset that he and Yeonjun are hanging out without him. But it’s— different. Whatever. Beomgyu just catches him at his worst all the time.
Like right now.
“Get up,” Beomgyu groans, rolling Soobin’s sleeping form over on his bed. “It’s noon.”
Soobin just mumbles and burrows into the sheets.
“Come on, seriously, I even brought my mom’s breakfast.”
Soobin opens one eye. “Sold.”
They don’t even leave his place, opting instead to play Super Smash Bros while yelling at each other.
“Should invite Yeonjun over,” Beomgyu says after round five.
“He’s working today.”
“So sad. You don’t get your not-boyfriend to cheer you on. Maybe you’d actually win of you did.”
“Ah, you know how it is with that, don’t be mean,” Soobin responds easily, munching on a chip. “We both have bigger things going on.”
Beomgyu rolls his eyes. “What, like managing his dad’s board shop during tourist season?”
Soobin laughs, but doesn’t miss the serious undertone in Beomgyu’s voice. But it’s just not easy to explain— Beomgyu just doesn’t see it like Soobin does. Doesn’t see him like Soobin does.
“It’s not like that. It’s just passing the time.”
“Right, because your friendship is normal. I don’t know, I don’t ever really get the urge to make out with Hyuka for an hour just for fun.”
Soobin snorts, kicking sand up and launching a small pat into the water. “Like I said. It’s different.”
He can see the moment that Beomgyu gives up.
“Yeah,” the younger sighs, “It is.”
—
The problem with Yeonjun is that he makes Soobin’s brain feel a little fuzzy when he’s in a good mood.
Soobin had been slowly pushing wax against his board, methodically, without a real need or reason, thoughts drifting away. He was probably mulling over his conversations with Beomgyu, but then Yeonjun had walked in dangling a bag of freshly baked blueberry bread, doing a silly dance and calling Soobin’s name.
All thought of Beomgyu had gone flying out the window.
“Fresh from my mom,” Yeonjun coos, hopping over to Soobin’s space.
Soobin puts the wax down, heading over. Yeonjun lets himself be picked up and spun around, laughing. Soobin gleefully grabs the bread once he’s out the older boy down, baited into a happy kiss from the smell.
“Geez, I’d bring you a bag every day if it made you this happy,” Yeonjun hums, eyes turned up happily.
“You don’t understand,” Soobin says through a mouthful, “I haven’t had this in so long. When I’m at school, sometimes I daydream about her baking.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Yeonjun giggles, a hand around Soobin’s shoulder. He hears the garage handle being turned, and steps away smoothly to turn and greet Soobin’s mother.
“Oh! Hello, Yeonjun,” she greets as she walks over. “I thought I saw you come in from the porch. But it’s been a few minutes so I thought I’d come check in.”
She rests a soft hand on his shoulder. “And as much as I love your company, Soobin has an awful lot of things he promised he’d do around the house for me.”
Yeonjun laughs, “Of course. I was just dropping off some food from my mom— there’s enough for you in there too, if he cares enough to share. But I’m heading out Make him do extra cleaning, just for slacking off right now.”
She laughs as she walks out of the garage, tossing, “I might make you clean too if you keep it up,” over her shoulder.
Soobin snorts, turning back to Yeonjun.
“You heard the woman.”
“You really so want to get rid of me.”
“Not that I don’t adore your presence,” Soobin retorts, “Or, at least, your presence when you have food for me.”
“Shut up,” Yeonjun grumbles, shoving Soobin’s shoulder as he walks away. “Go do your chores.”
Soobin laughs, but obliges.
Beomgyu ends up crashing his cleaning session a couple hours later as he finishes up the last chore on his list. Soobin is a few minutes into sweeping and cleaning the front porch when Beomgyu walks up and sits on the lawn chair Soobin was planning to spray with water.
“Hey,” he hums, “You should come down to the beach with me. I wanna surf.”
“Right, ‘cause I’m not doing anything. Let me just stop and go surf with you,” Soobin says with an eye roll.
“I’ll wait! Taehyun’s being lame and working so now I have to resort to surfing with you,” he replies.
Soobin throws him a grimace, but says, “Fine. Let me finish this and I’ll go.”
Beomgyu does just that— pulls his phone out and plays some kind of game that he apparently keeps losing by the sound of his angry tapping. After some ten minutes, Soobin wipes his hands on his shorts and flicks the younger boy on the forehead.
“Let’s go.”
Beomgyu jumps up, heading down the porch steps without waiting. “Finally!”
Soobin rolls his eyes, and follows him down the pathway to the sand.
“Why’d you have to go and get me? Taehyun is working or whatever, sure, but I’m sure Yeonjun or Hyuka would've gone,” Soobin asks as they take the wooden stairs down the small grassy hill.
“Hyuka’s babysitting. And I don’t feel like taking him and his sisters to the beach, you know,” Beomgyu hums, “And Yeonjun— I don’t even know where the guy is.”
“That’s what phones are for, Gyu.”
“He never responds to me! At least, not for like an hour. Plus your house is closer to the water.”
Huh. Yeonjun is actually one of the fastest responders to his text messages ever. Soobin must make a funny face at that, because Beomgyu ugh s and picks up a spare shell he found on the sand.
“I mean he’s your guy, of course he responds fast to you,” Beomgyu groans.
“He’s not my guy,” Soobin says with an eye roll. They’re on the sand now, approaching the water. Soobin sets his board down next to Beomgyu’s, already resting on the cooling evening sand.
“Right, because you aren’t attracted to him, I forgot, he’s your best friend,” he says, huffy, throwing the shell at Soobin’s head.
“When the hell did I say that?” Soobin scoffs. “Of course he’s attractive— I don’t think we’d be like this if we found each other unattractive .”
Beomgyu just stares at him. Eventually he puts his head in his hands, and just says tiredly, “You are the stupidest person I’ve ever met.”
He looks up, an incredulous expression on his face. “So even— after all this time— it’s nothing more?”
Soobin pauses, giving only a moment of hesitation. It doesn’t matter.
He avoids the topic by shoving Beomgyu face first into the sand, and sprinting away to the water.
—
He and Yeonjun wander through the little winding streets later that night. The cicadas are chirping and Yeonjun is playing with the bracelet on Soobin’s wrist.
In these last few days of the summer season, Soobin will take all he can get of the older boy. Even if it drives him insane when Yeonjun tugs on the bracelet string, even if what he’s talking about makes no sense. He likes to listen.
Yeonjun’s smile knocks the wind out of his chest, blinds him like the sunrise on a bright blue morning, even though the sun has set long ago and he’s only illuminated by the dull yellow street lamp.
Maybe— for Soobin— it is something more.—
The last leg of summer winds down like this:
Scream plays on the TV before them, they’re sprawled out in sleeveless tops and shorts on Yeonjun’s couch, and Soobin’s got one arm slung loosely around Yeonjun, one hand resting on his bare hip just under the hem of his tank. There’s two abandoned cups of cookies and cream ice cream on the coffee table, and Yeonjun is halfway asleep even as blood flies around onscreen.
It’s a bit like watching him surf, in an odd way. Yeonjun isn’t looking at him, isn’t yelling something stupid, isn’t trying to seem cool. He’s simply existing at the same time as Soobin, in the same space, be it with his eyes shut or with them trained intensely on the sway of the ocean.
Soobin pulls his eyes away from the boy, drifting onto the movie again. Absently, his thumb rubs across his skin, a small fidget that’s maybe just a bit greedy.
“Tickles,” Yeonjun mumbles, blinking softly. Soobin smiles.
“Sorry.”
“No you aren’t,” Yeonjun mumbles again, eyes opening. He reaches forward and shoves a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth, jostling Soobin’s hand on his waist. It’s… it’s nice. Soobin likes this.
Maybe it’s that easy.
How simple would it be? To just— ask. He mulls it over, but the words slip out before he can stop them.
“So you gonna let me take you out on a proper date one of these days?” Soobin asks talking to the wall more than anything.
Yeonjun laughs, spoon of ice cream hanging loosely from his mouth. He takes it out, laughs again, and then answers, “Maybe if you’re good.”
It’s as good as a yes as Soobin will probably get, but also most likely Yeonjun’s way of reminding him: This is a summer thing. That’s all this has to be.
—
The next morning, he has to shove Yeonjun off of him so he can breathe properly, the older’s sweater hood covering his face as they sleep.
Soobin sits up, sighing at the uncomfortable knot in his back. He now realizes that they’d fallen asleep on his couch, slumped into each other, and knocked over the bowl of popcorn onto the carpet at some point. But it’s whatever. It can wait.
He shoves Yeonjun again, just for good measure, and stands. His friend had always been a dead sleeper, so he doesn’t fear waking him.
It’s Soobin standing in the tiny kitchen, a mug of hot black coffee slowly being sipped away, that makes him realize. He takes another sip, thinking— what was he thinking? Asking Yeonjun about a date? Randomly over the sounds of bloody murder onscreen in the background?
He resigns to just pretend it hadn’t happened. That Yeonjun hadn’t kindly shut him down. They’re just them, this is just this, and Yeonjun is just his best friend asleep on his couch in his hoodie with a bruise on his collar.
Or, well, was asleep. Soobin turns to find Yeonjun standing at the kitchen entrance, an odd look on his face. He walks to Soobin slowly, not entirely awake, perhaps. He reaches him, reaching out a hand to take the cup from Soobin’s hands.
He takes a sip, makes a face at the harsh flavor. Puts the cup down on the counter behind Soobin, and leaves his arms to linger around his shoulders. Maybe he should apologize, Soobin thinks. Yeonjun stops him before he finishes the thought.
“First date,” Yeonjun hums suddenly, arms loosely draped around Soobin’s shoulders. “Where would we go?”
So much hits Soobin at once.
“I hadn’t— I hadn’t really gotten that far,” Soobin answers lamely.
Yeonjun flicks his ear. “You’re awful at wooing me.”
Soobin raises an eyebrow. “You’re wearing my clothes in my kitchen with your arms wrapped around me.”
He pinches Yeonjun’s side. “Are you not already wooed?”
“Me? Wooed?” Yeonjun laughs, and releases his hold. “By someone who’s leaving me in two days? You’ll have to try harder.”
And then he just lets out this little airy giggle, and walks away. Soobin slumps against the counter, watching him go and start to pick up the popcorn mess from earlier.
That might’ve been a dismissal, or might’ve been a challenge, a do it again, but Soobin doesn’t have time to find out. He’s got a flight in two days to pack for.
—
Yeonjun’s on his way out with his board in hand when Soobin’s packing his trunk to leave. The days flew by like a blink, like a wave crash, so loud but so fast.
Soobin is shoving a bag into the back of the trunk, still dressed in damp shorts from his swim earlier that afternoon. It’s evening now, and Soobin should’ve packed up far earlier— now he’s got about twenty minutes to shove all his things into the car and get on the road so he doesn’t miss his flight.
But he supposes he always has a second to stop and talk to Yeonjun.
The other boy is headed down the road to the beach, a loose white tank and shorts, no shoes, hair already blown over by the walk.
“Hey,” He frerard Soobin, stopping in front of him. “Ready to get back your gray buildings?”
Soobin laughs, and shrugs. “Have to be, don’t I?”
“Yeah.”
Yeonjun’s eyes flicker back and forth, looking for something, a hesitant glance that flips Soobin’s brain in circles. And then it breaks, and Yeonjun’s leaning in again, like he always has, hundreds of times before, and pressing his lips to Soobin’s.
It’s a short kiss, more of a last little hurrah , and it’s over quickly. Yeonjun’s still got some kind of mirth in his eyes, as he always does.
And then he’s walking away, fixing his grip on the side of his board, heading down the wooden, faded staircase that leads to the sand.
Soobin watches him go, arms loosely at his sides.
And then Soobin is putting the bag down, turning around, and jogging towards the steps after him.
On the beach, he doesn’t see Yeonjun. He sees him out on the water, where he belongs, idly wading while he warms up. He’s everything, everything, and all the more.
What a curse it would be to only see Yeonjun like this, casual kisses on street corners and never meaning more than a fun moment that blends in with all the rest. Not that Soobin ever intended for it to be anything more. But. He supposes it’s just a summer thing, it’s always just been a summer thing, and that’s all it has to be.
But part of him, the greedy little part of him that wants to watch Yeonjun’s face just a little bit longer, thinks that it doesn’t have to.
“Jun!” Soobin yells, waving his arm. Yeonjun looks up, sitting with his legs on either side of his board, waiting. Soobin thinks he looks wonderful.
“Next time,” he yells again, a breathless smile casting over his lips, “The carnival is coming back. I’ll take you on that date then. For real this time.”
Yeonjun laughs, that sly smile between his squinting eyes, the sunset casting over his honey skin, looking every bit like a fever dream, and calls out, “See you next summer, Soobin.”