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Prince Beomgyu, the youngest of four brothers, often felt invisible in the grand expanse of the royal castle. His eldest brother, Crown Prince Jaemin, was groomed for the throne, immersed in matters of state and diplomacy. His second brother, Minho, excelled in combat and strategy, earning accolades in the kingdom’s defense. His third brother, Seokjin, had a natural affinity for the arts, charming the court with his music and poetry. Beomgyu, however, seemed to have no defined place, no role that marked him as unique or important.
Each day, Beomgyu wandered through the castle’s vast halls, his footsteps echoing in the emptiness. Mornings began with a silent breakfast, where his brothers discussed their respective duties while he sat quietly, his presence barely acknowledged. He spent his days in the castle’s extensive library, losing himself in books that transported him to worlds where he might matter, where he could be a hero. There, he often found solace in the company of his dog, Nun, who listened to his every word with a patient gaze and wagging tail.
Beomgyu would confide in Nun, sharing his dreams, his frustrations, and his fears. "At least you understand me, Nun," he would whisper, scratching behind the dog’s ears. "You don't ignore me like they do." The loyal companion would nuzzle closer, offering the comfort of silent companionship.
Afternoons were spent exploring the castle grounds. He would visit the stables, where he was friendly with the stablehands who treated him kindly but knew to keep their distance. Sometimes, he would sit by the pond, skipping stones across the water, imagining what life outside the castle might be like. The evenings were the hardest, as the family gathered for dinner. Conversations flowed around him, discussions of politics, war, and art in which he felt he had no place. He would often slip away early, retreating to his room with a heavy heart.
Nights were his sanctuary. He would lie in bed, reading tales of adventure and bravery, wishing for a destiny that would make him feel seen. "What am I meant for if I won't inherit the throne?" he would ponder aloud, Nun lying faithfully at his feet. The questions gnawed at him, deepening his sense of isolation.
One night, the yearning for something more became unbearable. Beomgyu decided he had to leave the castle, if only for a while. He dressed in simple clothes, grabbed a cloak, and sneaked out through a hidden passageway he had discovered as a child. Nun followed him, their steps quiet against the cobblestones of the courtyard.
The world outside the castle walls was vibrant and full of life. Beomgyu wandered through bustling marketplaces, where merchants shouted their wares and children laughed as they played in the streets. He watched street performers, their acts filling him with awe and a sense of freedom he had never felt within the confines of the castle. He spent hours in taverns, listening to stories of common folk, sharing meals with strangers who saw him as just another young man, not a prince.
In these moments, Beomgyu felt truly alive. He learned to appreciate the simple pleasures of life outside the palace’s grandeur. He made friends among the villagers, who valued him for his kindness and curiosity. They didn’t see him as a prince, but as Beomgyu, a young man with dreams and a desire to find his place in the world.
.
The more Beomgyu ventured beyond the castle walls, the lighter he felt. He reveled in anonymity, in the way people listened to him and didn’t judge him for his title. They appreciated his humor, his curiosity, and his genuine interest in their lives. The village had become his sanctuary, a place where he felt he belonged.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the cobbled streets, Beomgyu reluctantly made his way back to the castle. His heart felt heavy with the knowledge that he would soon return to the silence and solitude of his royal chambers. He paused in a narrow alleyway, looking up at the star-strewn sky.
"I just wish someone would love me," he murmured, his voice barely louder than a whisper. "Someone who could comfort me, just once."
As the words left his lips, he stumbled, losing his balance on the uneven stones. He bumped into someone, a solid presence that steadied him with gentle hands. Beomgyu looked up and found himself gazing into the most captivating eyes he had ever seen. They were foxy and deep, as if searching for something hidden within his soul.
"A royal asking for comfort? Don't you have it all, my prince?" the man said, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Beomgyu's heart skipped a beat. "I—who are you?" he stammered, the title 'prince' sounding different from this stranger's lips. It carried a sensation he had never felt before, something warm and electrifying.
"Yeonjun. Choi Yeonjun," the man replied with a small, enigmatic smile. "A pleasure to bump into such a prince in need."
Beomgyu found himself unable to look away from Yeonjun. There was a confidence in his stance, a warmth in his smile that made Beomgyu's heart flutter. "How did you know I was a prince?" he asked, curious and slightly awed. Not many people knew about the fourth son of the royal family.
Yeonjun shrugged casually, his eyes still locked onto Beomgyu's. "You have an air about you, a presence that can't be hidden even in the simplest of clothes. Besides," he added with a wink, "word travels fast in a small kingdom."
Feeling an unexpected boldness, Beomgyu replied, "Well, Yeonjun, you seem to have found me at a moment when I needed someone the most."
Yeonjun's smile widened. "Then perhaps it was fate," he said softly. "Or perhaps, I was just in the right place at the right time."
They stood there for a moment, the world around them fading into a blur. Beomgyu felt a strange connection to Yeonjun, something that went beyond words. "Would you... would you walk with me?" he asked, almost shyly.
"I would be honored," Yeonjun replied, offering his arm. Beomgyu took it, feeling a warmth spread through him.
As they walked through the quiet streets, they talked about everything and nothing. Beomgyu found himself sharing stories and dreams he had never spoken aloud before, and Yeonjun listened with an intensity that made him feel truly seen. For the first time, Beomgyu felt like he had found someone who understood him, someone who looked beyond the title and saw the person he was.
By the time they reached the edge of the village, the moon was high in the sky, casting a silver glow over everything. "Thank you, Yeonjun," Beomgyu said, feeling a reluctance to part ways. "For tonight."
Yeonjun gave him a gentle smile. "The pleasure was all mine, Beomgyu. I hope this won't be the last time we meet."
"Neither do I," Beomgyu replied, his heart full of hope.
As he made his way back to the castle, Beomgyu felt a newfound strength within him. He realized that he didn’t need the approval of his family to find his place in the world. He had found something far more precious—a connection that made him feel alive and valued. And for the first time in a long while, he looked forward to what tomorrow might bring.
.
Fortunately for Beomgyu, that night wasn’t the last time he saw Yeonjun. Each evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the castle settled into its nightly quiet, Beomgyu would set out, his heart fluttering with anticipation. He would wander through the village, his eyes scanning the crowds for the man whose presence had left an indelible mark on his heart. Yeonjun was a striking figure, with sharp features and a confidence that drew people to him effortlessly. His deep, foxy eyes held a spark of mischief and kindness that made Beomgyu feel understood and seen.
Their meetings became the highlight of Beomgyu’s days. Every night, they would find each other, often in the same alley where they had first met. They would walk through the village, talking for hours about their lives, their dreams, and everything in between. With each passing night, Beomgyu felt himself falling deeper for Yeonjun. It was a sensation that both thrilled and scared him.
One evening, as they sat by the pond under the starlit sky, Yeonjun took Beomgyu’s hands in his. “Beomgyu,” he said, his voice soft but firm, “I want to be with you. Truly. I want to be the one you turn to, the one who comforts you and shares your joys and sorrows.”
Beomgyu’s heart skipped a beat, a mix of fear and excitement swirling within him. “I… I want that too, Yeonjun,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “But I’m scared. What if—”
Yeonjun gently pressed a finger to Beomgyu’s lips, silencing his worries. “It’s okay to be scared. But know that I’m here for you. Always.”
With those words, Beomgyu felt a wave of warmth and acceptance wash over him. He smiled, a genuine smile that reached his eyes. “Okay,” he whispered. “I want to be with you too, Yeonjun.”
From that moment on, Beomgyu’s life changed in ways he had never imagined. He felt an overwhelming sense of happiness and love. For the first time, he had someone who was there for him, someone who loved every part of him, even the parts he had always struggled to accept. Yeonjun saw the real Beomgyu, not just the prince, and loved him wholeheartedly.
With Yeonjun, Beomgyu found it easy to let his walls down. He shared his deepest fears, his insecurities, and his dreams. Yeonjun listened intently, offering comfort and understanding without judgment. He treated Beomgyu like actual royalty, with a reverence and care that was almost ironic, considering he didn’t work at the palace.
Whenever Beomgyu felt overwhelmed by the pressures of his royal life, Yeonjun was there to hold him, his embrace a sanctuary of warmth and safety. When Beomgyu rambled on about his day, his frustrations, or his joys, Yeonjun listened with genuine interest, his eyes never straying from Beomgyu’s face. He did everything that made Beomgyu’s heart flutter: the tender touches, the soft whispers of encouragement, the way he made Beomgyu feel like he was the most important person in the world.
In Yeonjun’s arms, Beomgyu found a love he had never thought possible. He felt cherished and valued, his heart brimming with a joy that transcended the loneliness he had once known. Each day, he woke up with a smile, eager for the night to fall so he could see Yeonjun again.
Their love became a beacon of light in Beomgyu’s life, a source of strength and happiness that made everything else seem more bearable. With Yeonjun by his side, Beomgyu felt ready to face any challenge, knowing he had someone who believed in him, who loved him for who he truly was.
And so, Beomgyu embraced this new chapter of his life, one filled with love, laughter, and the unwavering support of the man who had become his everything. Together, they navigated the complexities of life, their bond growing stronger with each passing day. Beomgyu had finally found his place in the world, not just as a prince, but as a man deeply loved and cherished by Choi Yeonjun.
.
Months had passed since Beomgyu and Yeonjun had declared their feelings for each other, and their bond had grown stronger with each passing day. Beomgyu felt a joy he had never known before, his heart full of love and contentment. He often visited Yeonjun at the library where he worked, knowing he could always find him there if he wasn’t waiting at their usual meeting spot.
One afternoon, Beomgyu entered the library, the familiar scent of old books and polished wood greeting him. He spotted Yeonjun across the room, laughing with a slightly shorter man. They seemed to be enjoying a private joke, and Beomgyu felt a pang of jealousy twist in his chest. He took a deep breath and let it go, reassuring himself that it was just a customer.
With a determined smile, Beomgyu approached his lover. “Who was that?” he asked casually, though his heart beat a little faster in his chest.
Yeonjun turned to look at him, his smile faltering slightly. “A friend, why?”
“I waited for you again and you weren’t there,” Beomgyu said, trying to keep the dejection from his voice.
“I was busy, sorry,” Yeonjun replied, his tone apologetic but distant.
Sorry. This was the fifth time Yeonjun had said that when he wasn’t available for Beomgyu. The words stung, but Beomgyu pushed the feeling aside, hoping for the best.
“Let me make it up to you tonight, hm?” Yeonjun continued, his eyes gleaming with a familiar hunger as he winked.
Beomgyu blushed, feeling the warmth spread across his cheeks. He knew he should have said no, should have addressed his growing concerns. But his heart, so deeply entwined with Yeonjun’s, couldn’t bear the thought of pushing him away over something that seemed, at least on the surface, to be a simple misunderstanding.
“Okay,” Beomgyu agreed, his voice soft. He was a fool for Yeonjun; he knew that. But he didn’t care, as long as he could keep the person who finally listened to him, who made him feel valued.
That night, as they lay together naked in the comfort of Yeonjun’s small home, Beomgyu tried to push away the doubts that gnawed at the edges of his happiness. Yeonjun held him close, whispering sweet words and promises that made Beomgyu’s heart flutter. In those moments, everything felt perfect. Yeonjun treated him like royalty, his touches tender and his words full of love.
But the incidents were adding up. Each time Yeonjun had to cancel or apologize for not being there, Beomgyu felt a little more of his confidence waver. He didn’t want to be the possessive lover, didn’t want to question the sincerity of Yeonjun’s feelings. Yet, the fear of losing the one person who had ever truly understood him was becoming harder to ignore.
Days turned into weeks, and the pattern continued. Beomgyu would wait for Yeonjun at their usual spot, only to be met with another apology. He would find Yeonjun at the library, often with the same shorter man, laughing and talking in hushed tones. Each time, Beomgyu swallowed his jealousy, clinging to the moments when Yeonjun would pull him close and reassure him with kisses and soft words.
One evening, as they lay together, Beomgyu finally voiced his concerns. “Yeonjun, who is that man you’re always with at the library?”
Yeonjun sighed, his fingers tracing circles on Beomgyu’s arm. “He’s just a friend, Beomgyu. I promise. You have nothing to worry about.”
Beomgyu nodded, trying to believe the words. “I just… I want to be with you, Yeonjun. And sometimes it feels like I’m not enough.”
Yeonjun turned to face him, his expression serious. “You are more than enough, Beomgyu. You are everything to me.”
The sincerity in Yeonjun’s eyes calmed Beomgyu’s racing heart. “Okay,” he whispered, leaning in for a kiss. He wanted to believe it, needed to believe it. Because without Yeonjun, he wasn’t sure what he would do.
As they drifted off to sleep, Beomgyu held onto the hope that things would get better, that the love he felt for Yeonjun would be enough to overcome any doubts. And for now, that hope was enough to keep him going.
.
Eventually, it wasn’t the shorter man at the library who troubled Beomgyu. Yeonjun began to completely forget to tell Beomgyu about his work hours or when he couldn’t meet up. Beomgyu would search for him on the streets, look for him at the library, but Yeonjun was never there. Beomgyu felt like he was being clingy, but his heart ached for his lover. He yearned for Yeonjun to show some sign of remorse or awareness of his neglect.
After a while, Beomgyu stopped searching. He stayed in the castle, feeling it was pointless to look for someone who didn’t seem to see him anymore. Days turned into nights, and the loneliness that had once filled his life began to creep back in. He found solace only in Nun, his loyal dog, and the books that once gave him comfort. The joy that Yeonjun had brought into his life was slowly being overshadowed by a profound sense of loss and longing.
It was a few days later, in the dead of night, when Beomgyu heard a commotion downstairs. The sound of guards yelling and the clatter of footsteps echoed through the halls. Curious and concerned, Beomgyu rushed to see what was happening.
At the entrance, amidst the flurry of activity, stood Yeonjun. His eyes met Beomgyu’s, and a familiar smile spread across his face. “Beomgyu, I’m here! I’m sorry I have been busy these days. Come to me!”
Sorry.
Sorry.
Sorry.
How many times was Beomgyu going to hear that? How many times would he let his heart make him a compliant fool? He should leave Yeonjun, should seek the peace and self-respect he desperately needed. He didn’t want to cry every other night when Yeonjun’s messages seemed dull or lacking any real interest.
But Beomgyu fell like a shooting star, crashing into the earth, unable to resist the gravitational pull of his love for Yeonjun. With his heart on his sleeve, he ran to him. Tears streamed down his face as he embraced Yeonjun, clinging to the man who had brought both immeasurable joy and deep sorrow into his life.
Yeonjun held him close, his arms wrapped tightly around Beomgyu. “Forgive me, baby. I’m sorry. I've been going through a lot. I’ll do better. I promise.”
Beomgyu wanted to believe him, needed to believe him. Despite the pain, despite the countless disappointments, his heart still beat fiercely for Yeonjun. He wanted to feel fine again, to reclaim the happiness they once shared. So, he chose to give Yeonjun another chance, hoping against hope that this time, things would be different.
As they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Beomgyu allowed himself to hope again. He let his love guide him, even as doubt whispered at the edges of his mind. For now, being in Yeonjun’s arms was enough. It had to be.
.
Beomgyu began to notice a slight shift in Yeonjun's behavior. Yeonjun made more of an effort to spend time with him, but it was never enough. The moments they shared were fleeting, often lasting less time than the journey Beomgyu took from the castle to meet him. Despite this, Beomgyu cherished every second. He knew he had to make the effort to keep Yeonjun in his life, even if it meant accepting less than he deserved.
One evening, after another brief meeting, Yeonjun sighed and looked at Beomgyu with weary eyes. "I want space, Beomgyu."
Beomgyu froze, his heart sinking. "Oh... did I do something wrong?" he asked, his voice trembling.
He recalled a dream he had a few days ago, a nightmare where he was chased out of the castle. Desperate and seeking refuge, he had turned to Yeonjun, only to be turned away with the words, "I don't want to see you again." The memory of the dream, coupled with the pain of past rejections, made him feel terrified. He had been abandoned before when someone he cared about asked for space. He feared this was the beginning of the end.
"No, you've been perfect, my prince," Yeonjun reassured him, though his voice lacked conviction. "I love you, but I feel like I'm going crazy. I need a break or I don't know what I'll do."
Beomgyu shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. "No, please. Don't go. I don't want you to leave."
Yeonjun hesitated, his resolve wavering as he looked into Beomgyu’s pleading eyes. “Okay,” he finally said, his voice softening. “I’ll stay. I’ll stay for you.”
That night, Yeonjun stayed to comfort Beomgyu one more time. They held each other close, Beomgyu feeling a mix of relief and lingering dread. He was grateful for Yeonjun’s presence, but an uneasy feeling settled in his chest. He began to feel like he was walking on eggshells, afraid that anything he said or did might push Yeonjun away for good.
Days turned into weeks, and Beomgyu became increasingly anxious. He chose his words carefully, constantly worrying about saying the wrong thing. The joy and freedom he once felt in Yeonjun's presence were overshadowed by a constant fear of abandonment.
One day, as they sat in a quiet corner of the library, Beomgyu looked at Yeonjun, his heart heavy with unspoken fears. “Yeonjun, are you still happy with me?” he asked softly, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Yeonjun sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Beomgyu, it’s not that I’m unhappy. It’s just… I feel like I’m losing myself. I need space to figure things out.”
Beomgyu's eyes filled with tears, but he nodded. “I understand,” he whispered. “Just… please don’t leave me.”
Yeonjun reached out, taking Beomgyu’s hand in his. “I don’t want to hurt you, Beomgyu.”
Despite Yeonjun’s words, the fear and uncertainty remained. Beomgyu continued to treasure the moments they had together, even as he felt the fragile threads of their relationship fraying. He couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter how much he tried, he might never be enough to keep Yeonjun by his side. But for now, he clung to the hope that love would be enough to see them through, praying that Yeonjun would find his way back to him completely.
.
A few weeks passed when Beomgyu finally realized he had fallen in love with a mirage, something beautiful but ultimately intangible. He had been holding onto the illusion of a perfect love, unable to see the cracks that had been forming all along.
"Beomgyu, can we talk?" Yeonjun's voice broke through Beomgyu's thoughts. Beomgyu nodded, worry gnawing at him from Yeonjun’s tone.
"I'm sorry, but I asked for space and you didn't respect it, and now what I feared has happened. I've lost all romantic feelings for you. In fact, these days, I don’t feel much at all. I can't give you what you need."
Beomgyu's heart sank. This was the longest they had talked in months, and he had felt so happy, only to have everything shattered in an instant. This was it. He was going to lose the only person who had finally listened and loved him. He had done so much to keep Yeonjun by his side, to keep his love. He had made and gifted him things full of love and care. It pained him to realize that his love had made Yeonjun feel suffocated instead.
How could he love someone now if loving too much was also wrong? He didn’t understand. He could feel himself struggling to hold back the choking feeling and speak. "I'm sorry. It's my fault. I didn't respect your boundaries. I... I'm sorry for ruining everything."
Beomgyu tried to speak, but the words were so hard to form. And what made it worse was that Yeonjun still comforted him. "Don't blame yourself. This relationship wasn’t meant to work anyway. We're too different. You deserve better."
Yeonjun wiped away the tears Beomgyu didn’t even know were forming. Beomgyu felt like he had been kicked and hugged at the same time. It was the worst feeling he had ever experienced.
"Yeonjun, I—" Beomgyu's voice broke as he sobbed, unable to hold back the flood of emotions. He felt like he was drowning, the weight of his heartbreak pulling him under. "I just wanted to make you happy. I thought if I tried hard enough, we could make this work."
Yeonjun shook his head gently. "I know you did, Beomgyu. But sometimes, love isn’t enough. We have to think about what’s best for both of us."
Beomgyu could barely see through his tears. "But I love you so much. I don’t know how to let go."
Yeonjun's face softened with sadness. "I know, Beomgyu. And I’ll always care about you. But holding on like this will only hurt us more in the long run."
Beomgyu sobbed uncontrollably, feeling his heart shatter into a million pieces. He couldn’t take it anymore. The pain was too much to bear. Without another word, he turned and ran, his legs carrying him back to the castle. He didn’t look back, couldn’t look back. His vision was blurred by tears, his heart heavy with the unbearable weight of loss.
As he burst through the castle doors and collapsed in his room, the reality of his situation crashed over him like a tidal wave. He had lost the one person who had made him feel seen and loved. Now, he was left with the emptiness of his once joyful heart, struggling to understand how he could move forward.
.
Days passed, and Yeonjun would check up on Beomgyu because he knew the prince’s darkest sides. He knew if Beomgyu wasn’t well, he wouldn’t take care of himself. And that was true. Beomgyu was awful. He wouldn’t eat or drink a sip of water. Thankfully, his family didn’t care enough to notice when he left his plate full or when he spent most of his time in the bathroom throwing up.
He would hug his pillow to cry, but then remembered he would hug that pillow thinking of Yeonjun and pushed it away to scream. He wanted him out of his heart. He wanted him out of his head. He wanted him out of his dreams. But he also called out his name at night when he was having destructive thoughts, wishing Yeonjun would hold him and stop him. But that wasn’t Yeonjun’s responsibility anymore. He was alone, just like before.
.
No matter how much time passed, Beomgyu remained in a state of utter misery. Yeonjun stopped messaging, and his family continued to overlook his suffering. Beomgyu’s isolation deepened, and the walls of the castle seemed to close in on him, suffocating him with their cold indifference.
Beomgyu’s days blurred into one another. He would wake up feeling a deep, gnawing emptiness, his body weak from the lack of food and water. His head throbbed constantly, a dull reminder of his neglect. He barely had the strength to get out of bed, and when he did, it was only to stumble to the bathroom, where he would retch until there was nothing left inside him.
His reflection in the mirror became a stranger, a gaunt and hollow-eyed figure that he hardly recognized. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten a proper meal. The sight of food made him nauseous, and even the thought of drinking water felt like an insurmountable effort. His body was rebelling against him, punishing him for the way he had been treating it.
The castle remained silent, his family oblivious to his suffering. They didn’t see the dark circles under his eyes or the way his clothes hung loosely on his thinning frame.
Beomgyu’s only solace continued to be his dog, the one creature who seemed to understand his pain. His dog would lick his tears away and nuzzle him, trying to provide comfort in the only way he knew how. Beomgyu clung to him, sobbing into his fur, the only warm presence in his cold, desolate world.
But even the comfort of his dog couldn’t stem the tide of despair that washed over him. He felt like he was drowning, the weight of his grief pulling him under. He would lie in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and memories. He remembered the nights he spent with Yeonjun, the warmth of his embrace, the way his eyes lit up when he smiled. Those memories were like daggers, cutting deep into his already broken heart.
He cried again and again, the frustration and pain boiling over.
At night, his thoughts would race, and he would find himself calling out for Yeonjun, hoping, praying for some comfort.
His body, weakened by his neglect, betrayed him further. He felt dizzy and lightheaded, and sometimes his vision would blur, the edges of his world fading into darkness. His stomach churned constantly, a painful reminder of his self-imposed starvation. His muscles ached, and even the smallest movements felt like a monumental effort. He started seeing bruises on his body that he didn’t cause.
Beomgyu hugged his dog tightly, tears streaming down his face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I’m so sorry.”
His dog whimpered, licking his face, trying to offer comfort. But it wasn’t enough. The only person who could truly stop his tears was the one who had caused them, and he wasn’t there anymore. Beomgyu felt like he was trapped in a never-ending nightmare, his heart breaking over and over again with no end in sight.
.
Beomgyu eventually found enough energy to write. He had written to Yeonjun before, but this letter was different.
Yeonjun,
I hope you’re well. Writing this letter is hard for me, but I need to get these feelings out. I know you asked for space, and I should have respected that. I thought if I held on tighter, you would stay. But now, I see how wrong I was.
When you left, I felt abandoned and lost. You were the first person who truly listened to me, who made me feel seen and loved.
I’ve been struggling a lot since you left. I stopped taking care of myself because it felt pointless without you. My family didn’t notice, and I felt even more invisible. My dog has been my only source of comfort, licking away my tears and staying by my side when I needed someone.
I realize now that I loved you with a desperation that was unhealthy. I wanted you to be my everything, but in doing so, I lost myself. I see that now. You didn’t leave because I wasn’t good enough; you left because our love had become suffocating. I wish I could go back and do things differently, but I can’t.
I still care about you, Yeonjun. I probably always will.
I know it’s selfish of me to ask this, but I hope you remember me. That you think of me often and don’t bury me away in your memory.
Forgive me if I can't handle the future and decide to stay in the past.
With all the remaining parts of me,
Beomgyu.
After sealing the letter, Beomgyu lay back on his bed, his body weak and trembling. His dog nestled beside him, offering the only warmth and comfort he had left. Tears streamed down his face as he clung to his last fragments of hope, even though they felt as fragile as his breaking heart.
.
Cold. It felt cold.
As the darkness closed in around him, Beomgyu heard a faint voice calling out to him. At first, he thought it was just a figment of his imagination, a desperate plea for comfort in his final moments. But the voice persisted, growing louder and more insistent with each passing second.
Beomgyu sat up, his heart racing. He turned towards the sound and saw Yeonjun standing in the doorway. He looked a bit pale, but his smile was the same, and his voice was as soothing as Beomgyu remembered.
“Yeonjun, you came?” Beomgyu’s voice trembled with disbelief and hope.
Yeonjun shook his head slowly, his expression soft and understanding. “You came to your heart, Beomgyu.”
Beomgyu didn’t understand, but it didn’t matter. All he could feel was the overwhelming relief of seeing Yeonjun again. He rushed forward and hugged him tightly, tears streaming down his face. Yeonjun’s arms wrapped around him, comforting and warm.
Yeonjun seemed different somehow. There was a calmness about him, a serenity that Beomgyu hadn’t noticed before. He didn’t talk much, but his presence was enough.
;
“Beomgyu,” the voice called again as he took a step back.
“Beomgyu…” Yeonjun’s voice trembled, his hands shaking.
Beomgyu wanted to reach back, to tell Yeonjun that it was going to be okay, but he couldn’t find the words. He could feel himself slipping away, his consciousness fading into the void.
And then, just as suddenly as it had come, the voice was gone, replaced by an overwhelming silence that echoed through the empty room.
Yeonjun stood there for what felt like an eternity, his heart heavy with grief and regret. He had found Beomgyu too late, his hanging body already cold and lifeless. He had failed to save him, just like he had failed to see the signs of his suffering until he read that damn letter.
Tears welled up in Yeonjun’s eyes as he knelt beside Beomgyu’s bed, his hands trembling as he reached out to touch his cold, lifeless form.
As the weight of his grief threatened to crush him, Yeonjun bowed his head and wept, his tears mingling with the silent sobs of the dead. In that moment of profound loss, he knew that he would carry Beomgyu’s memory with him for the rest of his days, a constant reminder of the love they had shared and the pain of its untimely end.