Work Text:
>>> Beomie: junie
Yeonjun opens the message immediately, watching the screen rather than where he’s going as the three little dots pulse to show Beomgyu is typing. The nickname only comes out when he’s being cute on purpose - usually in an effort to get his way - or when something is wrong. Over text, it’s hard to tell which it is this time.
>>> Beomie: are you busy?
He frowns, stepping off to the side so he won’t block anyone in the hall. It’s definitely bad, if he’s asking. Beomgyu knows his schedule better than he himself does, so he’d definitely know his class is over. Which means he’s asking because he knows Yeonjun would drop whatever’s in front of him immediately in response to whatever it is he’s about to say, and he’s trying to make sure there are no plans he doesn’t know about before he interrupts them.
The problem is, that also means that whatever is wrong has probably been wrong and Beomgyu is only just now sharing.
<<< Yeonjun: never for you
<<< Yeonjun: what can i do?
>>> Beomie: i don’t feel good
<<< Yeonjun: oh, honey, are you sick?
<<< Yeonjun: did you go to class?
>>> Beomie: i missed it, i slept through my alarm and woke up with a fever
>>> Beomie: i don’t have medicine, can you get me some? just when you have time, it’s okay
>>> Beomie: and then you should flee the area
>>> Beomie: maybe the country
Yeonjun bites the inside of his cheek, stuck between amusement and concern. He taps his thumbs against the side of his phone and then types his response quickly before walking again, reorienting himself from the direction of the library to his car.
<<< Yeonjun: i’m getting it right now, baby. do you need anything else?
>>> Beomie: no, i’m okay. thank you junie
He sincerely doubts that, but he taps back a heart rather than push it because Beomgyu isn’t typing like his usual self and that means he feels worse than he’s trying to let on. Stepping out of the front doors into the chill of December, he wraps his coat tight around his torso rather than bother with buttoning it and channels his worry into a brainstorm of what to do. They just passed eight months of dating, but he’s never seen Beomgyu sick before. It’s throwing him for a loop, now, trying to decide how to respond. It feels likely that the way he’s acting over text right now is just a face. If Yeonjun had to guess, which he’s gotten pretty good at, it’s because he’s worried about imposing. Trying to offer an out. Which he would never call ridiculous because it’s Beomgyu, sweet, gentle Beomgyu who worries so intensely sometimes that he’s too much.
But maybe he’d allow himself to call him silly, in the most gentle and fond expression of the word. He would give Beomgyu anything he asked for, would happily spend the rest of his life doing just that. And, really, it’s not like it’s difficult to coax out of him. Just… sometimes he needs to hear it, an earnest reminder that he is allowed to need things in return. Once he has one, that’s all it takes for him to talk. Yeonjun is sure that’s what’s happening now, that perhaps Beomgyu is just worried because he’s also keenly aware it’s the first time he’s gotten sick since they’ve been together.
Which is great, really, and eases the concern, but also he’d rather not make a second trip to the store when he’s got a sick boyfriend to care for. So now he needs a list, and fast, because he doesn’t want to wander for hours while Beomgyu is waiting for him, either.
One inhumanly efficient grocery trip later, he’s turning his key in the door to Beomgyu’s apartment, crossing the living room to set the bags down on the counter as softly as he can on the chance Beomgyu managed to fall back asleep. All of the lights are off, the door to the bedroom shut, and when he opens it a crack he can see a ball-shaped lump in the sheets. He tries to slip in quietly, but Beomgyu stirs at the motion and raises his head, which stays half-covered by the blanket.
“Jun?” His voice is scratchy in a way that makes Yeonjun cringe with empathy pain.
“Hey, Beomie, it’s me,” Yeonjun steps fully into the room as he speaks, circling around the bed.
“Don’t come any closer,” he warns gravely, “it’s the plague.”
Yeonjun snorts, but his amusement is tempered by his concern over how miserable Beomgyu sounds. “I’ll take my chances.”
“I mean it,” Beomgyu insists, and Yeonjun is close enough now to see the serious little furrow between his brows. It’s endearing, really, but the fevered flush to his cheeks is too disquieting for him to pay proper attention to that.
“So do I,” he responds, crouching down next to the edge of the bed, “as if I’m gonna make a medicine drop and ditch you.” He scoffs a little at the end, offended by the very idea, but Beomgyu shakes his head.
“I don’t want you to get sick,” there’s an audible pout to his voice that makes Yeonjun instinctively reach out to run his fingers through his hair. Regardless of the litany of protests he’s surely lined up, just the small bit of affection is enough to have Beomgyu’s eyes slipping closed. He leans into the touch as if he can’t help it.
“I was just here last night, honey. I’m definitely already exposed. No reason for me to stay away now.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not how…” Beomgyu frowns, eyes opening to stare at him. The look is seeking, clearly blanking on the word. “How… how the… hmph-”
“How immunology works?”
“Yeah, that,” Beomgyu huffs. He’s pouting again, so Yeonjun hides his smile by pressing a kiss to his concerningly feverish forehead.
“Not my problem. All I need to know is my boyfriend is sick and it’s my sworn duty to care for him.”
Beomgyu rolls his eyes, but he can’t stop his lips from turning up at the corners no matter how hard he tries to suppress it, even as he says, “you really need to talk to someone about this white-knight complex of yours.”
“Isn’t it only a complex if it’s not true?” Yeonjun teases back. Beomgyu blinks at him, an expression of utter disbelief crossing his face, and he can’t help but laugh at the sight of it. He leans forward to kiss him again, and again, on his forehead and nose and both eyelids. Beomgyu squirms a little, huffing.
“Yeonjun,” he mumbles, almost embarrassed. When he pulls back, he can see a careful mix of fondness and worry in those pretty, big eyes. “You really don’t have to stay. I can handle it.”
“I know you can,” Yeonjun says, reaching out to pet his hair again. He responds to the touch with a low hum, blinking so slowly it could be better described as just closing his eyes. “But you don’t have to. I’m here, and I love you, and I want to take care of you.”
“I’m really annoying when I’m sick,” Beomgyu warns, “like really annoying.”
“Define annoying,” Yeonjun retorts, “because if by annoying you mean clingy and maybe a little whiny, you’re always like that and it’s my favorite thing about you.”
Beomgyu pulls the blanket down away from his chin just to ensure Yeonjun can see the grade-A pout on his face, and Yeonjun leans down to kiss it before his sluggish sick reflexes can block him. Sure enough, he makes a protesting noise and pulls back, but it’s too late to dodge.
“Have you eaten anything today?” He asks, ignoring the half-hearted glare Beomgyu is leveling him with.
Beomgyu answers the question with a question, confirming the no Yeonjun already assumed to be true. “Are you going to let me say yes?”
“Good point, no, I’m not,” he smiles, standing up. When Beomgyu shifts, trying to get up as well, Yeonjun rests his hands on his shoulders and tries to ease him back down. “I know where everything is, sweetheart, I’ve got it.”
“But what if I wanna go with you?” Beomgyu pouts, huffing a little bit when he tries to sit up further and Yeonjun stops him again. He himself is torn at the request, frowning even as he massages Beomgyu’s shoulders comfortingly.
“Aren’t you tired? And cold?”
Beomgyu gives him a capital-L look. “I have slept for sixteen hours and I’m too much of both temperatures right now. I don’t wanna be a lump all day and if you leave now I’m gonna miss you.”
“I’ll just be in the next room, baby. I can sing the whole time so you can hear me if you want,” he offers in exchange, but he’s a weak man and he’s crumbling and Beomgyu can see it.
“You can sing anyways. With me there,” Beomgyu says resolutely, managing this time to fully sit up.
Yeonjun sighs, bending over and adjusting the blanket so it’s wrapped fully around Beomgyu’s shoulders. Without any instructions, Beomgyu realizes what he’s planning and gets a soft little smile on his face, not even bothering with his usual pure-bullshit huffing and griping before offering his arms out to help Yeonjun lift him. Legs wrap around his hips and he keeps one arm tight around Beomgyu’s waist while his free hand fixes the blanket again. He doesn’t move for the kitchen until he’s positive Beomgyu is secure in his arms, giggling at the sensation of hair tickling his neck when Beomgyu nuzzles into it, a happy little hum vibrating in his boyfriend’s chest.
Once in the kitchen, he frees one hand to shift the bags over until he can set Beomgyu on the counter, fussing with the blanket again while Beomgyu starts poking at his face and arms - which is not helping Yeonjun keep the thing on his shoulders, but he chooses not to say anything about that, just turning his head to kiss Beomgyu’s hands whenever they get close enough to his mouth. Finally he sets about making soup, and hears the rustle of the bags signalling Beomgyu took to looking through them once he’d walked away with what he needed.
“Um, love?” He asks after a minute. “What’s all this?”
Yeonjun turns to see what he’s talking about, finding the flu medicine in one hand and the bag that held it in the other. “It’s medicine,” he responds, feigning dumb.
“It’s… a pharmacy,” Beomgyu corrects, raising an eyebrow. Yeonjun feels himself flush and leans closer to the pot on the stove, hoping to use the heat as an alibi if he’s called on it. It probably wouldn’t be convincing considering the water doesn’t even look like it knows it’s hot yet.
“Okay, well, in my defense, you don’t have any medicine here at all.”
Beomgyu smiles teasingly, cocking his head. “And now I’ll never need it again.”
“Sue me for being prepared,” Yeonjun huffs, turning away. He’s not actually annoyed, which he’s sure Beomgyu knows. It’s not like he thought he’d get away unscathed after buying - if he remembers correctly - nine medicines ranging from syrups to throat drops. Just that, once he saw Beomgyu, he’d forgotten to properly prepare himself to be teased for it. It feels a little bit like having his heart in plain sight, but rather than the thought bothering him he just hopes Beomgyu can see it too and know it’s for him.
“Junie,” Beomgyu giggles, beckoning for his attention. It’s so stupid fucking adorable that he has to physically fight himself not to turn to the sound immediately. Once again, Beomgyu knows all too well that he’s a weak, weak man. “If you don’t look at me I’m gonna get up.”
Yeonjun sighs, setting down the ladle he was using to stir the pot of nothing but not-boiling water and turning to raise a scolding finger as he crosses the short distance back to Beomgyu. “Don’t you dare.”
Arms stretch out in anticipation, his mischievous grin widening. Yeonjun steps right into them, albeit still a little huffy. “Thank you, my love,” he says sweetly, wrapping one arm around Yeonjun’s waist and using the other hand to run through his hair and cradle his face. “You always take good care of me.”
He melts immediately, resting his hands on the tops of Beomgyu’s thighs and leaning forward to kiss his cheek. “Of course I do, you little brat,” he scolds when he pulls back, but it’s soft. It doesn’t dampen Beomgyu’s smile even a little bit.
“Is the bath stuff for me, too?” He asks, tilting his head.
“Only if you want,” Yeonjun shrugs, “I like baths when I’m sick, so I got it just in case.”
“Well I only want one if you’ll hang out with me,” Beomgyu warns, as if it would make Yeonjun rethink the whole thing.
“Beomie, honey, serious question,” Yeonjun responds, and both of them almost simultaneously adopt attentive, no-nonsense expressions. “Why the hell would I be anywhere else?”
Beomgyu cracks first, bursting into giggles, and he can’t help but follow after. “I don’t know,” he says, moving both hands to rest on Yeonjun’s shoulders. “Go back to stirring your water.”
He rolls his eyes, kissing Beomgyu’s nose before turning back to his cooking.
“I believe I was promised singing,” Beomgyu calls after him, and Yeonjun lets out a fond sigh before humming the opening notes of his favorite song.
~~~
“Jun?” Beomgyu mumbles, not bothering to open his eyes. The bath water must be getting cold again, considering how long they’ve been here. They’d spent a while just talking, catching up on all of the minute details of their days the past couple weeks that hadn’t made it into some other conversation. Then the medicine started to take effect and Beomgyu got a little less conversational, more content to just listen to Yeonjun talk or sing. He’d honestly thought Beomgyu had fallen asleep.
“Yeah?” He straightens up from where he’d slouched against the wall, readying himself to do literally whatever Beomgyu asks.
“I wanna go to bed but I can’t move,” he pouts. The water splashes as he raises an arm to lay dramatically over his face.
“Hang on, honey,” Yeonjun chuckles, letting out a noise somewhere between ugh and oof as he raises himself from the floor and stretches out his muscles. He grabs the waiting towels and tosses them over his shoulder before turning back to the tub and offering out his hands. “Come on, you big baby.”
Beomgyu cracks one eye open to see Yeonjun waiting and huffs. It takes some effort; mostly from Yeonjun, mostly because Beomgyu insists on being deadweight, but eventually he’s standing and Yeonjun is self-impressed with how little water transferred over to him. He hands Beomgyu one towel and uses the other to ruffle his hair.
It doesn’t take long after they’re both tucked into bed for Beomgyu to curl up over his chest and doze off, and Yeonjun whiles the time away on his phone.
>>> Binnie: hey, have you heard from gyu?
<<< Yeonjun: yeah, i’m with him now. he told you he’s sick?
>>> Binnie: he did, yeah, to get his shifts covered. i was about to tattle on him, it sounded like he thought he’d bother you
<<< Yeonjun: silly
>>> Binnie: that’s what i said
>>> Binnie: how’s he doing?
<<< Yeonjun: okay, i think. the fever medicine knocked him out a little bit ago
<<< Yeonjun: i’m a little worried i’m not doing enough
>>> Binnie: i’m positive that is not true
>>> Binnie: but what makes you say that?
<<< Yeonjun: i guess i just feel like he’s holding back? i don’t know, maybe it’s stupid
>>> Binnie: you mean like he’s acting more okay than he feels?
>>> Binnie: it makes sense, knowing him
<<< Yeonjun: exactly
<<< Yeonjun: and it’s like… maybe it’s not a big deal, you know? i’m probably blowing it out of proportion in my head. but it makes me a little worried that maybe it means he doesn’t feel safe with me
>>> Binnie: oh
>>> Binnie: there’s the stupid part, i was waiting for it
<<< Yeonjun: helpful.
>>> Binnie: Yeonjun.
>>> Binnie: have i ever told you that beomgyu had to correct me once because i had assumed you were dating from the beginning?
<<< Yeonjun: …you haven’t, actually
>>> Binnie: i’d spent the first two weeks we worked together thinking it was his boyfriend hanging out in the corner all the time and being really worried that he thought i was homophobic because it was the only explanation that made sense for why he kept referring to you as his friend
<<< Yeonjun: genuinely hilarious, but what’s your point?
>>> Binnie: my point is, the big reason i thought you were already dating was the way he looked at you. not the heart eyes, though that was sickeningly sweet, but i mean when anything happened, especially something that made him nervous, he looked at you. not even on purpose, not like he expected you’d be watching or anything. just like he was making sure you were still there
>>> Binnie: i never even teased him for it because it was obvious that you were his safe place
>>> Binnie: don’t you think it’s more likely he’s listening to the self-deprecating voice that tells him he doesn’t deserve to be taken care of like this?
<<< Yeonjun: well when you put it like that…
<<< Yeonjun: can we at least agree i’m a terrible boyfriend for not knowing this when you did?
>>> Binnie: no. you knew all that too, you just care about him so much that you start getting all irrational about delivering the universe to him on a plate. you two are honestly gross and i cant stand being around you.
<<< Yeonjun: why are you still here then, smartass?
>>> Binnie: because i, unfortunately, love you both
>>> Binnie: you’re doing fine, jun
<<< Yeonjun: i, begrudgingly, love you too
>>> Binnie: good word
<<< Yeonjun: fight me
~~~
Yeonjun freezes when Beomgyu shifts, waiting to see if, undisturbed, he’ll settle back into sleep. It’s a little doubtful; he could tell by the steady increase of Beomgyu’s temperature that the medicine has been wearing off, so it’s likely his movement means it’s out of his system enough for it to be too uncomfortable to sleep.
Beomgyu rolls over, pressing his face into Yeonjun’s stomach and making a whiny little sound. Yeonjun strokes his fingers through the short strands of his hair and waits for what’s wrong.
“Junie,” Beomgyu turns his head to be more audible, his expression and tone utterly miserable, “hurts.”
“What hurts, honey?” He holds the back of his free hand to Beomgyu’s forehead despite already knowing it’s beyond normal levels of warm.
“Everything,” Beomgyu complains, nuzzling into his stomach again. His shoulders release some tension when Yeonjun massages his fingers gently at the nape of his neck, but he still doesn’t lift his head.
He hums sympathetically, cradling Beomgyu’s flushed cheek in his hand. “Did the medicine help earlier?”
“It’s yucky,” Beomgyu protests, which means yes. Yeonjun can hear the stellar whine bubbling under his words, waiting for an excuse to come out. It doesn’t bode well for him considering he hadn’t thought far enough to bring the medicine to the bedroom with them and Beomgyu is still clinging to him.
He procrastinates his next move by softly brushing Beomgyu’s bangs back from his forehead, trying to soothe away some of his discomfort. “Is it less gross if I put it in a shotglass and you chase it with orange juice?”
Beomgyu huffs, the corners of his lips curling up just enough for Yeonjun to see the edges of his teeth, and he mentally applauds himself.
“You’re ridiculous,” Beomgyu mumbles, rubbing his fists in his eyes before finally peering up at him, “you wouldn’t be able to make that happen while also staying in bed with me, would you?”
“No,” Yeonjun frowns, genuinely apologetic, “but I can make it fast and then we can watch something together, yeah?”
His boyfriend frowns a little longer before sighing, and Yeonjun, as well, gets stuck a moment or five longer than he intended to stay as he presses kisses all over Beomgyu’s face, hoping if he manages to convey even a fraction of the fondness he feels it will settle Beomgyu’s discomfort some. He tucks the blankets back around Beomgyu as he leaves the bed before hurrying his way through throwing the medicine, two cups, a shotglass, and the whole bottle of orange juice into the shopping bag that already contains the snacks he’d bought earlier. When he re-enters the room, bag in hand, it’s in time to catch Beomgyu quickly swiping at his eyes.
“Beom?” He asks softly, setting the bag at the foot of the bed and crawling back under the sheets.
“Yeah?” Beomgyu responds. He’s attempting to be casual, but his voice still sounds teary.
Yeonjun opens his arms and his boyfriend hesitates only a moment before crawling into them, seemingly despite himself. He doesn’t say anything immediately, just stroking Beomgyu’s hair. There’s another crying type of sniffle a few moments later, and Yeonjun leans back enough to see the wetness gathering in his eyes before he’s wiping it away again.
“I’m sorry,” Beomgyu whispers, “it’s stupid, I’m sorry, I’m fine.”
“It’s not stupid,” Yeonjun replies softly, “never is, not when it upsets you. Did something happen?”
“No, nothing happened, that’s why it’s stupid,” his voice is above a whisper now, rough and caked with tears and sickness. “I can handle being sick usually, most of the time it isn’t a big deal, but I can’t stand having a fever because everything just hurts.”
His voice pitches near cracking on the last word, lower lip starting to wobble, and Yeonjun reaches a thumb to soothe under his eye before holding him close again. He strokes a hand through Beomgyu’s hair and rocks him slowly, pressing small kisses to the top of his head again and again.
“I’m sorry, sweet boy,” he says softly. Beomgyu sniffles against him and he adds another kiss to the growing tally for good measure. “What can I do?”
Beomgyu laughs a little at that, rolling his head from one side to the other against his chest. “If you figured out how to do any more for me I think I’d owe you my soul.”
“Sounds like a fair trade since you already have mine,” Yeonjun replies, half-joking and dead serious all the same. Beomgyu groans, the sound a little painful, and he’s halfway to scolding him for doing that with his sickness-ravaged throat when the response he gets forces him to pause.
“What did I do to deserve you, loverboy?” He questions. Even if Yeonjun tried his best, he’d be hard-pressed to interpret the sentence as a complaint. It is teasing in nature, but there’s a self-conscious undertone to it that’s hard to ignore, doubly so after his earlier conversation with Soobin. It’s a tone he’s heard infrequently though always impactfully over the past near-year of being with Beomgyu, and he’s always chosen to soothe it away in the indirect sense. To show Beomgyu how serious he was and how deeply he felt. He always felt action would do more than a promise, but maybe he could stand to be a little clearer.
“I’ve been thinking I must have been a saint in a past life to be lucky enough to have you in this one,” Yeonjun responds finally, a little non-sequitous but nonetheless getting somewhere. Beomgyu pulls back, brows knit together as his eyes dart around Yeonjun’s face. He looks like he’s about to speak, so Yeonjun holds a finger to his lips as a signal he’s not finished before taking that hand to brush away a particularly short strand of his bangs, meeting his eyes with intensity to show how deeply he means this. “Anything good I give you is for no smaller reason than I love you. So much, Beomgyu. I’m not as good as you when it comes to waxing poetic, but please don’t ever doubt that I feel so much for you I genuinely don’t know what to do with it other than give to you until you feel so loved that you don’t know what to do with it either, because then at least we’d be even.”
Beomgyu doesn’t look immediately ready to respond, and that’s okay. He’s sure once his boyfriend finds his words, they’ll be sappy and smitten and ten times more poetic than Yeonjun could muster with a million hours and a thousand drafts. What he’d said hadn’t been for Beomgyu’s response. It had been for this: big, wide eyes searching his face and finding it nothing but sincere, the small well of tears that he knows this time are good. Beomgyu’s hands clench and release at his waist, crumpling his t-shirt, because he’s not sure what else to do with himself when he gets this flustered.
His goal doesn’t end at Beomgyu knowing, really and truly, that he is loved, but it’s a hell of a start. He’ll keep going until Beomgyu expects it, demands it, until he knows without a doubt that Beomgyu will kick him to the curb if he’s ever less than what he deserves. And then all he’ll have to do is the simple act of loving Beomgyu that much plus a little more for good measure.
“If you’re not careful,” Beomgyu says slowly, “I will propose marriage right now.”
“Oh no,” Yeonjun gasps, exaggerated and insincere, “you mean I’ll be locked down by the most beautiful boy in the universe forever?” He throws the back of his hand to cover his face now, shooting for full-on melodrama. Beomgyu is already giggling at his antics. “What ever will I do with this horrible fate?”
“You’re a loser,” he says, nonetheless moving his hands from Yeonjun’s waist to the small of his back to pull him closer.
“Your loser,” Yeonjun grins. It’s cheesy and cliche and yet he’s endlessly smug at the fact that he gets to say it at all.
“My loser,” Beomgyu smiles. He plants a kiss on the tip of Yeonjun’s nose and his face lights up with the same delight it always does when he reflexively scrunches it in response. “Can I tell you something?”
“Always,” Yeonjun smiles, already preparing himself for it. That question has only ever preceded the most sentimental and heartfelt things he’s ever heard.
“I’ve always liked the idea of reincarnation. I like the idea that this won’t be the last time I get to be here, and that maybe the next time around I’ll get to be something new and learn a little more in the process. I think I like it because it implies that the grand scheme of the universe is some elaborate hands-on experiment in what it means to be human.”
He trails off for a moment, eyes scanning over Yeonjun’s face again in the way they so often do. He hadn’t known what Soobin had told him earlier about Beomgyu seeking him out. Even when he’d tried, he couldn’t remember a time he’d caught him looking. But nonetheless, the words had rung true from the moment he’d read them, because what he does know is this. The quiet moments they get between the two of them, intimate in their closeness and their stillness, nothing in the room but the sound of their breaths and the lingering of saccharine words. It’s in these moments that Beomgyu likes to just look at him as if committing every feature to memory.
It had used to make Yeonjun nervous. Insecure, even. Not because Beomgyu had or ever could make him feel judged - he would struggle to believe anyone would manage to feel unsafe around Beomgyu. But there’s an intimidating level of intimacy to being known and to having someone so obviously want you to be known to them. Though it’s hypocritical, he can’t help but grapple sometimes with the notion that he doesn’t deserve the depth of love Beomgyu is able and more than willing to give. It doesn’t always make sense, the fact that he’s on the receiving end of those looks and the gentleness and devotion and adoration they carry. Or the deep metaphors on the philosophical beginnings and ends of love that somehow always tie back to Yeonjun, and how much Beomgyu loves him, specifically.
Beomgyu loves Yeonjun so much that the weight of it would crumple him to a sobbing, irretrievable heap on the floor if he hadn’t managed all the same to build him up so high that he believes he deserves it more often than he doesn’t.
Beomgyu laughs softly and the sound pulls him out of his reverie, only now realizing that his eyes had unfocused somewhere along the winding path of his thoughts. “Did I lose you?”
“Never,” Yeonjun promises, breathy, “we paused at what it means to be human.”
“We did,” Beomgyu hums, gently knocking their foreheads together before sitting back again. “Like I said, I’ve always liked that idea. I usually don’t focus on it often, because whatever happens after life isn’t something I can help very much. But I’ve been thinking about it again lately because I think you, Choi Yeonjun, have taught me a whole lot about what it means to be human.”
Well, shit.
Beomgyu leans in to kiss just under the corners of his eyes, where tears had quickly gathered. It’s enough to make Yeonjun laugh breathily, his hands pausing halfway in the air when they abandon their mission of wiping them away in favor of letting Beomgyu handle it. Instead they wind around his boyfriend’s neck, and soon after he buries his face there, too.
“Soobin called us disgusting earlier,” Yeonjun says to his collarbone, unabashedly changing the subject. Beomgyu graciously doesn’t call him out on it, though he’ll probably loop back around to this at some point to make sure Yeonjun internalized it. “He said he can’t stand to be around us.”
“I think I get why,” Beomgyu laughs, “this might be an unconventional way to get your full-grown-adult boyfriend to take his medicine.”
Yeonjun pulls back suddenly at the reminder of the abandoned bag at the foot of their bed. Man, he had lost the plot entirely. His boyfriend laughs as Yeonjun leans them both at a severe angle to grab it without removing Beomgyu from his lap. Dosing the medicine and pouring orange juice with a boy in his lap (over white sheets, which he keeps trying to tell Beomgyu is a hazard no aesthetic could possibly be worth), is a stress inducing challenge. But they manage not to stain anything and Beomgyu’s expression only stays disgusted for a few moments before he sighs and leans over to place both glasses on the nightstand behind them.
“Thank you,” he says as he slumps his head back against Yeonjun’s shoulder.
“Always,” Yeonjun promises, “forever.”
~~~
They’re halfway through their movie when Yeonjun’s phone lights up, catching both of their attention.
>>> Tyun: Hyuka said Beomgyu’s sick.
>>> Tyun: have you guys eaten?
<<< Yeonjun: Not since lunch, but I was about to order something, don’t worry.
>>> Tyun: No, don’t. Come outside, I made something.
Beomgyu makes a terribly endeared sound, letting Yeonjun know he’s safe to hop out of bed with no explanation. He drops a quick kiss on Beomgyu’s head because he can’t stand to leave without it even if he’ll be right back, then hastily throws on his shoes and a mask before going down to meet Taehyun.
“Hey,” he greets, hovering only as close as he needs to be to take the bag Taehyun passes to him. He doesn’t bother with ‘you shouldn’t have’, because Taehyun likely wouldn’t let him get that sentence all the way out without telling him to shut up. Instead, he says, “thank you, Taehyunnie. You’re sweet.”
“Yeah, well,” Taehyun scoffs, rolling his eyes a little. Despite it, Yeonjun can tell by the crinkle at the corners of his eyes that his mask is covering a pleased smile. “Tell Beomgyu I hope he feels better soon. I’d come up and tell him myself, but I have a pretty big exam to cram for…”
“Please,” Yeonjun waves his free hand in dismissal, “he barely wanted me to stay in the first place. I think he’d have a fit if you got any closer than you are right now. I’ll tell him.”
“Thanks,” Taehyun sighs, relieved. Yeonjun has to physically resist the urge to reach out and ruffle his hair, instead occupying his hand with waving goodbye and pulling the lobby door back open.
When he returns to lay out the still-warm containers, he finds Beomgyu sat up against the pillows with the movie paused, giggling at something on his phone.
“What’s so funny?” Yeonjun asks after a moment spent admiring the silly grin on Beomgyu’s face.
“I missed about seven-thousand memes from Kai,” Beomgyu explains, evidently still scrolling through them, “I seriously think he sent me his entire collection.”
Yeonjun settles back in next to him, hooking his chin over his shoulder to see for himself. Most of them are the kind that Yeonjun finds funny against his will, as is in tune with Kai’s usual humor. He’s endlessly fond of it anyways. He’s sure without even watching the active conversation happening between the two of them now that Kai is relieved to see Beomgyu responding and know that his endless collection of memes had made him smile. If the adoring pout on Beomgyu’s face is anything to go by, Kai is probably saying something sickeningly sweet about making sure he takes care of himself and sending him virtual hugs to feel better soon.
When he’s finally got them ready to eat, Beomgyu cuddles back against him despite the added challenge for both of them in the ‘don’t stain the white bedsheets’ mission. They unpause the movie, and Yeonjun finds himself encompassed by the presentness he feels. There’s a glow in his chest caused by their friends, the things he and Beomgyu had shared, and most of all Beomgyu himself, curled into his side as a perfect fit.
He thinks he understands exactly what Beomgyu was onto earlier. The four of them had taught him an awful lot about what it means to be human, too.