Archive of Our Own ^beta

DECEMBER

"It could be half the price and it still wouldn't change things. Hell, it could be free on the sidewalk and I wouldn't touch it. It's not about the price, hyung, it's just ugly."

"That's not true. You would give it a second thought if it was, like, five bucks."

"Not the point-"

"-the point is that there is some price that you'd consider it at-"

"-yeah, zero!"

Soobin shot Beomgyu a nasty look from the corner of his eyes. Beomgyu returned it with a smug smirk. They burst out laughing.

Inside Soobin's coat pocket, he squeezed Beomgyu's hand.

"Fine, fine, you hate it, I get it," he acquiesced. "But I'm sneaking it in someday when you forget about it. It's good to own things you hate. It builds character."

Beomgyu rolled his eyes. "How is owning the world's ugliest accent table going to build character?"

They looked at the table in question. It was low, fairly unassuming in stature. By all means, it should have been a normal coffee table. But under the glass surface, instead of four legs or a cylindrical base, there was a stout porcelain chicken in blue and white. 

"One day, you'll lock eyes with this chicken and come to an earth-shattering realization..."

Beomgyu pushed him lightly with his free, unpocketed hand, drawing a giggle from Soobin. "Hyung. It's more likely that'd happen over a box of fried chicken. Speaking of, can we get chicken for dinner?"

"Ugh, yes, let me order it now..."

Beomgyu heard Soobin's agreement and felt his hand withdraw from his pocket as he tapped rapidly on his phone. But he immediately missed the warmth of his hand, and wished for its reassuring weight, as he registered someone staring at him from across the street half a block ahead.

It barely took him a second to recognize who it was. Despite the hazy glow of the street lamps, the twinkling decorative garlands, the low fog kissing close to the road, it was an instantaneous recognition. A tall man, in a long black coat. Dark narrowed eyes, pursed lips. A pretty leather satchel slung over his shoulder. 

"That's..."

Beomgyu trailed off. Soobin noticed his troubled demeanor and curled an arm around his waist.

"You okay? What happened?"

But the man broke off his stare, finally, and crossed the road, walking quickly away. He made distance until he turned a corner and Beomgyu lost sight of him. 

"It's nothing," he finally said. "Just someone I used to know."

Mere minutes after unlocking the door to his apartment, Beomgyu was lying on his stomach in the living room, texting an old group chat of college friends.

me
did you guys know?? that yeonjun is here????

my love huening kai <3
NOO????
WHEN????

me
idk but i saw him earlier

my love huening kai <3
WHERE??????

me
u know the secondhand furniture store a block from soobin's apartment
just outside there

my love huening kai <3
.......... you were with soobin weren't you
oohhhh messy
living for this

me
it's not messy yeonjun and i are nothing
it's just weird to see him

my enemy kang taehyun >:(
That's what makes it messy LOL

 

Beomgyu let his head fall onto the rug. Maybe they were right. It wouldn't be messy if he'd seen Yeonjun, given him one spare thought, and then moved on. But here he was, frantically reporting it to a group chat like a high schooler. Did people who'd 'moved on' do this?

my enemy kang taehyun >:(
Given the chance, do you think you'd want to talk to him?

me
fuck no
no
what's in the past is in the past
and it should stay that way

my enemy kang taehyun >:(
Wise words hyung
Just hope you rly believe in that

me
i literally hate u

my enemy kang taehyun >:(
Love you too

my love huening kai <3
this is so sexy and all but can you accept my friend request on pokemon tcg 

With a groan, Beomgyu pulled himself up from the floor and stumbled to the bathroom to wash up. It had been a long day. And he had a bad feeling that only more were to come.

***

Soobin's hand, buried in Beomgyu's hair, scratched his scalp lazily. Beomgyu's face was practically in Soobin's lap, his sleepy eyes shut in bliss. Occasionally, he reached up to guide Soobin's hand to a neglected spot.

The sound of keys jiggling in the lock made Soobin's ministrations pause.

"Who is it," mumbled Beomgyu.

"Heeseung," answered Soobin, who had verified it with a glance at the entrance.

"Me," agreed Heeseung, toeing off his shoes and padding into the living room. "Oh ew. You're like his dog, Beomgyu."

"Yeah," Soobin said happily.

Heeseung sent him a look of disgust. "You might as well just move in here at this point. Forget about the new apartment."

Beomgyu ignored him. "Soobinie, pet me."

Soobin patted his soft brown hair gently. "Why do you think we're bothering to get a whole new apartment, Heeseung."

"I both desperately want this man out of my place and resent you for stealing my roommate," Heeseung told him.

"You still have another, damn. Greedy. Beomgyu's mine."

Beomgyu nuzzled his head into Soobin's lap, enjoying the light scratch of Soobin’s trousers against his nose. "Love you."

He smoothed down his hair while Heeseung made a face and left them alone. "Love you too."

Beomgyu woke up several hours later with a blanket on his lower half and a pillow under his cheek. 

"Soobin?" he croaked, patting down the couch as if he would find Soobin. "Hyung?"

No response. He'd probably left. He checked his phone. It was four in the morning. There were texts from Soobin.

babyyyy<33
Rest well my beomie
Sorry i had to go, class tmrw
Stuff that'll actually be on my exam in january so :/ gotta actually attend
And heeseung looked like he would kill me if i stayed another night

me
looooooveeee youuuuuu
good luck tmrrrrr
zzzzzzzzzzz

 

Sleep still weighing down his eyelids, he considered finishing the night on the couch instead of dragging himself to bed. It was so far… And the floor looked cold… 

Postponing the decision, he opened Instagram. Maybe it would wake him up enough to make the trek to bed.

He only really used Instagram for messages at this point. Those messages being Kai and Soobin’s endless supplies of Reels. Cat memes, restaurant recommendations, obscure jokes. He made to open Soobin’s latest deposit of Reels and paused when he saw a name sitting in the top slot where Soobin’s usually did.

yeonjun @yawnzzn
hey it’s been awhile, hope you’re…

He turned off his phone and clutched it to his chest. His heartbeats, rapid, met the chill of his phone screen. He should’ve known spotting him was bad news.

Awhile, huh. Understatement of the year – of the two and a half years Yeonjun’d been away for. Two years since the last time they'd seen each other – since they'd broken things off for real. 

He wondered what he had to say after all that time. No messages since the break-off. Beomgyu still called it that, the break-off, not the break-up. There wasn't anything to break up, after all. Only vague, ill-defined shadows. He pictured their hands, that had always reached out to one another, compelled by an unnamed force. That was the break-off – not a break-up.

Admittedly, he was curious. He unlocked his phone again. In the back of his mind, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Taehyun’s warned him not to open the message. Maybe in broad daylight he would've listened to that voice. Alas, it was 4 AM, and Beomgyu’s sleep-addled curiosity won over his self-restraint. Besides, he thought defensively, it was his own decision. Better to live by his own mistakes than to live in fear of others’ judgment. 

The full message read:

yeonjun @yawnzzn
hey it's been awhile, hope you're doing well. let me know if you ever want to catch up over coffee. nw if not, i get it. it would be nice to see you again though

Beomgyu must've read it a dozen times before he even conjured up an idea of what to say back. It took so long that his eyelids began to droop once again. 

I can’t leave him on seen, he thought desperately, and hurried to reply without thinking too hard about it. Then he let his body slide to the ground from the couch, crawled his way to his bedroom, and promptly fell asleep on his bed, half of his body hanging off the edge.

***

Though skies had been clear all day, the first real snowfall of the year arrived on Friday night. By 7 PM, a light flurry, nothing too serious, dusted the streets in translucent white. 

Beomgyu tightened Soobin’s scarf for him. He had to lift himself up on his toes to get a good hold on the navy knit. Soobin smiled at him, gooey gratitude.

“This was your first gift to me after getting together,” Soobin pointed out.

He nodded. “Right. I'm glad you're still wearing it.”

“Of course,” he said. “It's important to me.”

Beomgyu paused and ducked his head into Soobin’s chest, his forehead cushioned by the scarf in question. The coarse thread tickled his lips when he spoke.

“It's nice that we got together in November. I'm sentimental in winter. And everything about winter reminds me of you. Our first date, your birthday, how good you look in a long coat, seeing the first snow with you.” He closed his eyes and breathed in slowly, savoring the mingled scent of Soobin’s laundry detergent and cologne. Ambery, woody, but not spicy. Gentle and understanding. “Makes me think, I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Soobin wrapped his arms around Beomgyu and leaned down to press a kiss into his hair. “I love this part of you,” he said lowly. “You feel things so close to your heart. I don't know how to put it quite right, but I really admire that. You have so much love to give, to the people around you, and the world too. I'm happy that you let me have some of your love.”

Beomgyu tilted his head up to peek cutely at his boyfriend’s adoring gaze. Only his eyes, wide and long-lashed, were visible from above the scarf. “Not just some,” he corrected. “Heaps and heaps. I have so much love for you. And it’s gonna keep piling up until you have to give up and just accept it all.” He took pleasure in seeing Soobin’s cheeks redden.

“Sappy baby,” he said. “You win. You've won from the very beginning. Now let's get going, or else we’ll be much later than I can justify to the man in charge of my future.”

Beomgyu grinned and tugged Soobin’s scarf tighter one last time before they linked arms and stepped out of the apartment entryway, into the tender snow.

Dinner was four courses, a slow and heavy thing. It was a so-called holiday party for Soobin's tiny cohort of eight hungry graduate students. The department had plenty of money to throw around, so dates like Beomgyu were invited too. He wasn't complaining. His steak was juicy, submitted easily to his teeth, and tasted like fate had brought them together. Even better yet, Beomgyu’s two glasses of white wine on the department card? Best semi-mandatory holiday dinner ever.

Soobin kept a warm hand on his thigh under the tablecloth, a reassuring anchor against the ache building in Beomgyu’s head. His hand only lifted when dessert came, a cinnamon-soaked pear tart of sorts, with vanilla ice cream on the side. The research talk had dwindled by the second course, succeeded by relationship updates and travel plans. 

Soobin’s advisor, red-faced from the wine, was talking about his upcoming trip to Japan when Beomgyu’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Eager for an excuse to get some air from the constant stream of conversation, he excused himself and took refuge in the bathroom.

The flowery scent of the bathroom air didn’t do much for his headache, and the notification that enabled his escape did even less.

yeonjun @yawnzzn
are you free sunday?

 

yeonjun @yawnzzn
actually, are you free tomorrow? sorry, i just really want to see you

Beomgyu’s gut curled in on itself. It was a weird mix of distrust, excitement, guilt. Several minutes after the last message, another notification came in; he still hadn’t opened the messages in case Yeonjun noticed that he was reading them.

yeonjun @yawnzzn
i’m really happy you replied

He tried to recall what he’d ended up typing last night. Judging by the latest replies, he guessed whatever he’d said would not be Taehyun-approved. Curiosity and fear winning over him, he finally opened the chat and scrolled up.

yeonjun @yawnzzn
hey it's been awhile, hope you're doing well. let me know if you ever want to catch up over coffee. nw if not, i get it. it would be nice to see you again though

 

beomgyu @bamgyuuuu
oh hiiii good to hear from u sure lets catch up

 

Grimacing, he flattened a hand over his eyes like it would erase what he’d sent. Then, naturally, he took a screenshot and sent it to Taehyun and Kai.

my love huening kai <3
four i’s girl STAND UPPPP

me
i know…

my enemy kang taehyun >:(
Didn’t you say yesterday
“What’s in the past should stay in the past”
What happened???

me
remember how sometimes i say things i don’t mean
yeah

my enemy kang taehyun >:(
🙄
Does Soobin know?

me
that i’m a chronic liar? yea

my enemy kang taehyun >:(
No about Yeonjun

me
haha
…no

my love huening kai <3
u don’t have feelings for yeonjun anymore though right?

my enemy kang taehyun >:(
Much love and support hyung but
Still think you should tell him

me
idk does it make it weird if i tell him? if there was really absolute nothing bt us then meeting up w him isn’t like cheating right
i’m pretty sure i don’t feel anything for yeonjun anymore except for like nostalgia
but we do have history so it does feel weird to not tell him ab it

The door to the bathroom opened and Beomgyu shoved his phone back into his pocket, pretending to wash his hands. He eyed himself in the mirror. The light peach color of his tinted lip balm had faded, or had been ingested with the past three courses, but he hadn’t brought it with him to the bathroom. Apparently he’d also been biting his lip nervously as he had texted. The skin of his lip had been torn off.

As he walked slowly back to the dining room, pressing his uncomfortably dry lips together, he recalled that he didn’t reply to Yeonjun after opening the messages after all. But sitting back down, Soobin took his hand under the table. With concerned eyes, he fixed Beomgyu with a questioning look.

Beomgyu shook his head.

Do you want to go, Soobin mouthed.

He shook his head again.

Soobin squinted at him. Beomgyu tried to keep his face straight. Whatever Soobin saw, he apparently didn’t like it. He squeezed Beomgyu’s hand and waited for a lull in the conversation to interrupt.

“Beomgyu and I will be heading out, unfortunately,” Soobin announced, standing up. “The snow’s not looking too good.”

Murmurs of understanding and disappointment bid them goodnight as they said goodbyes and retrieved their coats. Beomgyu was grateful for Soobin’s hand, always present, fluttering around his waist, shoulders, neck, as they departed.

The snow fell thickly outside. A light coat of snow capped the roof of Soobin’s car. Beomgyu absently drew a smiley face in the buildup. Then, registering how he was very much not smiling, he wiped it out with his sleeve, the snow falling onto his boots.

Soobin rested his chin on Beomgyu’s shoulder from behind. “What’s wrong?”

He hesitated. “Sorry I made you leave early.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he assured him. “I was getting tired of it, anyway. I’d rather spend my night with you.”

Why did it hurt, to hear Soobin say these things? Devoted, unwavering Soobin – always understanding, always accepting. Always looking after Beomgyu, making him happy, loving him so sweetly. Why did it make his chest coil in on itself?

“Let’s get in the car,” Beomgyu said, reaching up to brush snowflakes out of Soobin’s hair.

In the car, Soobin sat patiently as Beomgyu connected his phone’s Spotify to the car. Was it strange to bring this up with ABBA playing in the background? Beomgyu kept the volume low just in case.

“It’s nothing that bad,” Beomgyu started. “Well, I don’t know. It’s not like anyone died. I don’t think it’s a huge deal, a life-changing kind of thing, but I wanted to tell you.”

Soobin nodded. Actually, seeing him up close, leaning over the center console, Beomgyu could tell he was a little nervous. His lips were folded in, his cheeks tense. Without thinking, his hand came up to cup his cheek.

“You’re cute,” he told him. “Sorry for making you worry.”

“Don’t apologize,” whispered Soobin. “But hurry up and tell me. You’re killing me.”

Beomgyu kissed the cheek in his hand and let go. “It’s just that, you remember when we met? Heeseung told you, right? I was in some kind of situationship until September. We got close after that.”

“Yeah,” was all Soobin said.

“Well, at that time he – my ex, I mean – was living in LA. So it was a messy mutual argument that led into breaking things off. As far as I know, he’s been in LA since then.” He gulped, stared straight ahead at the windshield, the brave snowflakes that landed and melted into streams of water. “But I saw him when we were out the other day. That stupid chicken table. We recognized each other from across the road.” He paused to gauge Soobin’s reaction.

He looked calm. But worried.

He hurried to explain. “It’s nothing weird, I promise. I don’t love him anymore. We were never going to last in a relationship. We never even made it to a real relationship.” 

“Then what,” said Soobin. His Adam’s apple bobbed with a hard swallow.

“He asked if I wanted to catch up over coffee. I agreed because it was, like, four in the morning and I wasn’t thinking clearly. But I thought you should know.”

“Okay,” he said quietly. He closed his eyes and sat back in the driver’s seat. “Okay.” Then he opened his eyes and seemed to steel himself. “But you don’t have feelings for him anymore.”

“I don’t,” Beomgyu said firmly. “It’s just, I really am curious, you know. I do want to know how he’s doing. And I do want him to see how I’m doing now. We left off in a pretty bad place, but I still care about him as a human being. It was… A period of my life that I have a lot of gratitude and fondness for. Does that make sense?” The words tumbled out faster than he thought was even possible.

Soobin turned to him. His serious eyes, illuminated by a single speck of light, were entrancing. His hands found Beomgyu’s over the console.

“Beomgyu,” he said slowly, turning over his name like honey in his mouth. “I get it. And it’s okay. I’m happy that you’ll be able to come to terms with the past. And I know that this is important to you. Thank you for telling me.”

Soobin’s words were always comforting. He wasn’t much older than Beomgyu, but he was always reminding Beomgyu, I’m proud of you. You worked hard. You’re precious to me. I love you. The way his hands were locked tightly with Beomgyu’s, though, gave away his emotional turmoil.

“But?” prompted Beomgyu in a whisper.

Soobin pressed his lips together like he wasn’t sure if he should continue. Beomgyu fixed him with a pleading look.

“But I thought you were gonna leave me,” he admitted, voice cracking at the end. “And I, I–”

Beomgyu took him in his arms, hand on  Soobin’s nape, guiding him to his shoulder. Hot breaths, quick in and slow out, tickled the very bottom of his earlobes. Beomgyu, feeling his eyes sting, let his face fall into Soobin’s hair, which smelled of the wax he used: clean, citrusy.

“I don't want to lose you, Beomgyu,” drifted into his ear. “You make me a better person.”

Beomgyu sniffled quietly. A whiff of citrus. “I'm not going anywhere,” he promised. “I love who I am when I'm with you.”

***

beomgyu @bamgyuuuu
tomorrow is fine, you can pick a place

yeonjun @yawnzzn
u got it. sending the location…

Yeonjun was different, he noticed immediately. He was on time. His hair was black, slicked slightly back. He had glasses, simple black frames, resting low on his nose. And he was wearing a nice sweater and slacks. Adulthood had gotten to the hair dye and ripped jeans, finally.

What hadn’t changed were the silver hoops in his lobes and the slow syrupy smile that spread across his lips when he spotted Beomgyu. 

“Hey,” Yeonjun said when Beomgyu was in earshot. 

“Hey, yourself,” he said awkwardly. “I'm gonna get a coffee.”

Yeonjun stood up. “Let me pay for yours.”

“No, no, really. I've got it.” When Yeonjun made no move to sit, Beomgyu physically pushed his shoulders down until he returned to his seat. “I'll be just a minute.”

“I’ll try not to run out the door while I wait,” joked Yeonjun, fluttering his fingers in a wave as Beomgyu moved to join the line.

Waiting to place his order, Beomgyu stared resolutely at the chalkboard menu and prayed his instincts were not correct about Yeonjun’s gaze pinned on his back. It would be very in character for him. He was always staring at Beomgyu back then – whether he realized it or not. It used to make him want to jump Yeonjun’s bones. Now it just made him want to jump out of his own.

He shivered involuntarily. Attempting to be subtle, he cast a wary glance over his shoulder. Yeonjun was in fact watching. When they locked eyes, Yeonjun smiled, catty.

“Sir?”

He whipped back around, forced a sheepish smile to the barista. “Sorry. Small latte, please.”

When he returned to his seat, latte cupped in his hands, Yeonjun placed his phone face down on the table and looked up at Beomgyu slowly, deliberately. “So,” he began, his voice pleasantly low. “How’ve you been?”

Beomgyu coughed back a laugh. It felt absurd, almost. Two years of silence, and he asked the most mundane question ever. The most anticlimactic question he could possibly ask.

“How am I doing now or how have I been for the entire time?” 

Yeonjun shrugged, though his eyes remained sparkling. “Anything you want, just go for it.”

He hummed as he thought, taking a sip of his coffee to stall. “Well, I am not addicted to coffee anymore, there’s that. So at least my body is healthier than before.”

True to his word, Yeonjun played along skillfully. Clapping in acknowledgment, he replied, “Truly impressive. Ah, but should I have picked a different venue? Are we witnessing a relapse today?”

“A few cups of coffee a week are harmless,” he dismissed.

“The words of a reformed addict, for sure.”

Beomgyu frowned exaggeratedly. “Hey, I worked hard to stop drinking it everyday! Now I mostly drink tea.”

“No more energy drinks?”

Surely he was thinking of a time when, in preparation for midterms, Beomgyu had a whole case of Monster in his fridge. “The need for energy drinks disappeared with the hell of exams,” he explained. “Now my boring adult job only requires coffee once a week. The rest of the coffee-drinking is from missing the taste.”

“Well, I’m honored to have the privilege of filling your coffee quota for the week.” Yeonjun did his little smirk-smile again. His lips kept quirking upwards, but his eyes were honed in on Beomgyu, and Beomgyu alone. “Tell me about your job.”

“Oh, you know, just marketing. Blah blah Gen Z, blah blah analytics. It's for a pretty large record company, though, which I wanted to try out, so…”

“I see,” nodded Yeonjun. “Do you like it? The work?”

He wondered if Yeonjun was judging him just a little bit. True, he had no reason to think the worst of him. But back then, he'd always urged him to shoot for the stars – to follow his passions – to bend the whole world to his dreams. Yeonjun did that himself, in moving to LA. Yeonjun embodied that, body and soul. 

“It’s not so bad, really. Not the most exciting work, but I get it done just fine. And it pays the bills until I figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life.”

Yeonjun hummed sympathetically. “Makes sense, makes sense. Did the music composition thing go anywhere?”

He could barely hold back the grimace. “Um, I just do it as a hobby now. From time to time.” Which meant maybe once every two months, whenever he felt sick to his stomach at the thought of living another day. 

Yeonjun could definitely tell. “You loved it so much, in college.”

Again, the unvoiced judgment was stifling. The friendly concern. It made him want to be contrary. “I still love it. But I'm not sure if I want or even can make it my whole life. The creative grind is just… dying and resurrecting over and over again. And it's really not so bad living a safe, boring life.” He was getting a little heated. “Actually, it's not even particularly boring. I'm happy. I am. Things are good.”

He hated how he couldn't tell if he was persuading himself or Yeonjun. Sometimes he really believed it, that he was happy. Sometimes he cursed tomorrow, for looking identical to yesterday. 

More than anything, he hated how, despite the two years apart, despite getting healthier and happier and loving himself more and loving others more, despite being on the verge of moving into a new apartment with his new boyfriend, Beomgyu was surely the same as he had been before. He hated how Yeonjun was probably looking at him and seeing Beomgyu of senior year, maybe less caffeine-dependent but head still buried in the sand, refusing to make a decision. 

“I’m glad,” Yeonjun said, “though it’s a shame. You had such a touch for creative work. I would've loved to have seen where it could've gone.”

Beomgyu laughed awkwardly. “You're right. Well, maybe it’s not too late for me. Maybe I’ll show you where it can go, someday.” He wasn't sure how much of it was just his pride speaking.

Yeonjun’s eyes glittered, almost hungrily. “I'll be waiting until then.”

Beomgyu redirected the conversation to what Yeonjun had been up to, marginally safer territory for his ego, though the reminder that Yeonjun was independent, successful, and ambitious was not quite necessary. Even as they chatted, pleasantly, Beomgyu found himself thinking, if Soobin were in Yeonjun’s place, he would say something comforting, uplifting. Like, I’m proud of you, you’ve already come a long way. But it’s Yeonjun, and Yeonjun says, sure, but maybe you could be happier.

***

“Did Taehyun say if he was coming?”

“I think he’s busy tonight…” Kai checked his phone and scrolled through his messages. “Yeah, he got stuck at the office.”

Beomgyu sighed. “The usual. Well, it'll just be a date for the two of us, then!” He puckered his lips and winked, smarmily.

Kai pretended to swoon and grabbed a bottle of wine from the fridge. “Moscato tonight, milady?”

“Oh, yes,” he answered enthusiastically. “Can I get a candle to light? Okay thanks.” He was off to rummage in Kai’s candle collection before Kai had finished one full nod.

They tried to have an evening with the three of them every several weeks or so, since they hardly ever saw each other otherwise. Unfortunately, Taehyun was held up at work more often than not – the price of his hefty investment banking salary. Even so, Kai and Taehyun were the people from undergrad that Beomgyu saw the most, these days. 

The two of them, having been in the same class year and staying in the same city, had decided to room together post-graduation. Given their different occupations and schedules, they had worked out some arrangement of Kai shouldering more of the domestic responsibilities and Taehyun shelling out more of the rent. This suited them quite well, since Kai was at home studying more and Taehyun at work earning more. 

Sometimes it made Beomgyu feel a little left out, but there was nothing to be done about that. He was always slightly distanced from the two: he was a year older, despite being the least certain of his career path. He was very often in a relationship (or situationship), which took away time that he might’ve otherwise spent with them. This was not to say that they had nothing in common or that the younger two ever intentionally excluded him – on the contrary, they were very close given the circumstances – but Beomgyu still thought about it sometimes. If maybe he wasn't the greatest friend. If maybe he needed them more than they needed him. Thoughts that, no matter how old he grew or how often he'd banished them, cropped up nonetheless.

He shook his head vigorously and picked up a random candle off of Kai’s dresser. Orange blossom, sure. It was burned about three-quarters of the way down.

“I dug out that blanket you like,” Kai told him when he returned to the main room. “The one with puppies.”

He set the candle down on the coffee table and eagerly took the blanket in his arms. “You are my savior, I love you.”

Kai blew him a kiss as he pushed Beomgyu’s glass closer to him. Then he lit the candle, took a deep, satisfied whiff, and folded his hands. “Now, spill.”

He chuckled nervously. “It’s not much…”

Kai was not having that. “Hyung. Tell me everything.”

“Oh, alright… Where do I start?”

“Refresh me on you and Yeonjun after you graduated – we kinda lost you that year.”

“Um. We first hooked up at the beginning of senior spring, met semi-regularly throughout the semester. Then after I graduated, he moved to LA for his ‘big break.’ The weird thing was,” and Beomgyu was getting into it, reminiscing, “we kept talking the whole time. We honestly talked more than we ever did when we were fucking.”

Kai was listening enraptured. “But you weren't official?”

“No! We weren't!” he said angrily. “It felt more like a relationship than anything. We fell asleep on FaceTime almost every night. I visited him once, you know.”

Kai gave him a look.

“The sex was amazing, I will admit.”

“Thank you for reading my mind. But continue.”

“We stopped talking as much in August, when he got busy and I started work. It was a lot to handle, so it’s natural, I guess. Actually, I met Soobin for the very first time around then. Well, you know that story.”

“Only heard it about five times, yeah.”

Beomgyu smiled. “I just think it's fun, the thought that it was a completely coincidental and casual meeting. I had no idea that we would fall in love. And look at us now.”

Kai’s toothy smile was cute, with the way the candle and dim lamps reflected off his pearly whites. “You're my sappy, lovey-dovey parents.”

“I would be such a horrible parent and you know it.”

“Not true,” he insisted. “I think you'd be a wonderful parent. Seriously.”

Kai’s face was glowing, in large part from his rosy, shiny cheeks. His eyes were big, affronted at Beomgyu’s self-doubt. He was so sweet.

“Well at the very least, I wouldn't be a great parent for enabling regular wine nights.”

Kai giggled conspiratorially. “That's normallll. But keep telling the story.”

“Where were we? Oh, right – August. After that comes September. God, September.” Beomgyu gave a great shudder. “Yeonjun came to visit in September. It was a huge ordeal. Amazing sex, of course. He stayed for almost a whole week. We almost made it out intact, but on the fifth day we started arguing.”

His one-man audience nodded intently, eyes big, encouraging him to continue.

“In hindsight, it feels stupid. I was pushing him to commit to a relationship, ‘cause we still didn't have a label or any exclusivity. But he was being kinda wishy-washy about it, which upset me. I think we loved each other and knew it, though. He just wasn't in the right place to commit to a label, I guess, because he didn't know what future he could promise. Anyway, I did not get that at the time, so we just kept hurting each other until we ended things.”

Kai winced. “Ouch.”

“Yeah, it was rough.”

“I remember you visited us for a weekend around then, right? You didn't really tell us about this, though.”

Beomgyu heaved a sigh. “Yeah, I didn't really want to think about it then. And after that, it still hurt to talk about, so I never really told you guys. And then Soobin and I got together, and it felt like I’d missed the timing to give you the details. Plus, I had plenty of gossip for you just with Soobin.”

Kai reached for Beomgyu’s hand and patted it reassuringly. “My number one tea-spiller. Love you so much.” He accentuated this by blowing a kiss. “Thanks for rehashing the long story. I don't know if it's still painful for you but I'm always happy that you trust me.”

Beomgyu shrugged. “It's been a long time. I definitely have… complex feelings about it. But it's not necessarily all painful.” He rested his chin on the table, nudged his forehead to press against their entangled hands. “It's like a sore muscle. I haven't thought about it in so long, but in these particular positions it feels sour, almost. A good stretch. But sore, really sore.”

Kai hummed and also laid his head down. His cheek was smushed onto the table. The wine was getting to him, likely.

Beomgyu added, “And I'm the one who should be thanking you. For listening to my long, silly story. You always make everything easier for me.”

“‘m here for you,” he murmured into the table.

Beomgyu laughed, small and quiet. “Thank you, sleepyhead. Take a nap. I'll clean up and wake you up when I'm done.”

“Nooo…” Kai was saying, but his eyelids drooped and the end of the word was heard only in his dreamscape.

Beomgyu was on the way home when he realized that he hadn't even gotten to debriefing his reunion with Yeonjun. It would have to be saved for the next gossip session.

***

There was a general consensus at work that, with Christmas in exactly one week, tolerance for gossip and slacking off was elevated. Beomgyu was on decent terms with most of his coworkers, but he didn’t interact with many of them beyond a professional capacity. The exception to that was Seungkwan.

Minutes before they were allowed to take their lunch break, Seungkwan breezed past Beomgyu’s desk and slapped a Post-It note on his monitor. Neon green, covered in scribbles ranging from basic calculations to character doodles, there was a message at the very bottom, circled twice. LUNCH WITH ME IN FIVE.

Beomgyu smiled at the non-question, caught Seungkwan’s eye, and shot him a thumbs-up. With his remaining five minutes, he hurried to save his working files, send some off for feedback, and write up a note so he would remember where he’d left off. Then he donned his coat, shoved his necessities into his pocket, and hovered at Seungkwan’s desk until they were ready to go.

“My back is killing me,” said Seungkwan by means of greeting. “We need ergonomic chairs. I’m so serious. This is, like, worker mistreatment. Humans are just not meant to sit in shitty chairs for eight hours of the day.”

Beomgyu made a noise of agreement. “You should complain to Manager Wen.”

“Oh, absolutely not. Do you want me fired? Me, your lunch buddy? I’m hurt.”

He lightly hit his arm. “He wouldn’t, he loves you.”

“You’re a lying liar, Choi Beomgyu, did you see his email yesterday? He basically called me out in front of the whole department. ‘Whoever left a mug in the sink’ my ass. He totally knew that was me. I’m so embarrassed.”

“How would he know it was you?” he asked, fondly exasperated. “Also, Vietnamese or Italian?”

“Vietnamese, I need to stop by Starbucks – got a gift card. Because we had a chat in the kitchen that morning, and I was holding that mug in my hand. Oh, it’s so humiliating. I’m burning up just thinking of it, feel.” Seungkwan pressed Beomgyu’s hand to his cheek. It was indeed warm.

“What were you chatting about in the kitchen?” he inquired, with a sly smile.

“Not you too,” Seungkwan complained. “It was very mundane. He asked if my sister was feeling better and told me about how whenever he’s sick he takes four vitamin C gummies. He says the brand he gets tastes really good. Tropical pineapple citrus, or something. I don’t know. He says the most random things but he’s so hot.”

“I’m familiar with the type,” he said as they stepped into the restaurant.

Tiny, with only two tables, the restaurant specialized in banh mi. Frankly, he and Seungkwan came here once a week. It was why they usually took lunch so early – it got too busy even just fifteen minutes later. They joined the line, continuing their meaningless conversation about Manager Wen.

With his lunch safely obtained, Beomgyu finally cracked. “So what’s the deal? You usually don’t demand my presence via Post-It.”

Seungkwan paused, cheeks full. When he looked up, he very slightly resembled a chipmunk.

“Please finish chewing before you speak.”

He chewed rapidly; Beomgyu tried not to laugh unsuccessfully. Then he swallowed and spoke carefully, much slower than his usual current-like commentary. 

“Okay, so hear me out.” That already made Beomgyu antsy. “I swear – really, this time I mean it – I will stop asking after this time. I know you’ve declined twice already, but I really want to ask again. The circumstances are perfect this time: your big project is winding down, they’ll ease up on you for a little while, and you haven’t taken a day off in ages.” Seungkwan shot him a disapproving look. “And my friend, Jihoon, is coming off of a big album, and doesn’t have to grind for his next collaboration for a few weeks. He’ll just be puttering around on personal stuff and experimenting. In other words, the timing is perfect.”

Beomgyu worried his lip. Seungkwan had last asked him four months ago. He wasn’t doing great then. Or so he had said, to decline the offer politely. It all seemed like such a hassle, honestly. Bothering Seungkwan’s big-shot friend to sate what could only be termed a hobby, at this point. Sure, he’d written some songs in college, for class and for himself, but since then? He was so… average. So mediocre. What right did he have to insert himself into professional music production?

“I can see you spiraling, Beomgyu,” Seungkwan said gently, placing a hand on his arm. “Jihoon will not see you as a bother, or as inferior, or whatever you're thinking. He knows your background. He's heard some of your stuff.”

“He has?” Beomgyu interjected, surprised.

“Yeah, I sent him your portfolio from undergrad. I got it off your LinkedIn.”

“I forgot about that.”

“Jihoon liked it, he did. He said something about your vulnerability… He felt a sense of developing identity in your work.” Seungkwan looked very serious. “He doesn't just hand out meaningless compliments, you know. He wants to help you out, if you're interested.”

Stalling, he took a bite and was startled to taste blood. A tentative lick of his lips confirmed his suspicions. He'd nibbled at the skin on his lips so much that it'd started bleeding.

It wasn't supposed to even be that daunting. The first time Seungkwan brought it up, he'd described it as a shadowing opportunity. Basically just networking and getting to know the workflow. It wasn't a long-term commitment. It was just dipping his toes in the water, testing the temperature.

What was stopping him? Fear that he'd end up disappointing both Jihoon and Seungkwan? That he wouldn't like it after all? That he’d like it too much, instead? Was he ready to quit his job for a dream with no guarantee of success?

“You know what,” Seungkwan said, squeezing his arm. “Don't answer me yet. Sleep on it. I can tell you're considering it this time. I want you to take your time thinking. You can let me know what you decide anytime before, say, January. Jihoon gets busy in February.”

Beomgyu gratefully nodded, throat feeling too thick to form words. 

He had to admit that part of the reason he was even giving it a second thought was his conversation with Yeonjun. He'd buried the idea of seriously pursuing music for so long. His feelings on it were complicated, but he kept justifying his avoidance – he was fine. He was happy, most of the time. Life was good.

But Yeonjun unearthed memories, old hopes that life could be better than fine or good. When he was younger, he pictured a future of dreams weaved into reality. He would be so in love with life that every day would be beautiful. Not that necessarily wonderful things would have to happen in the world, but that he himself would be able to see things as beautiful, even if they were small or simple.

He was doing that to an extent. And yet, it didn't feel like it was everything that life had to offer. There had to be more. A purpose to fulfill – a reason that he was put on Earth. Right? 

If not a rationale, then at least something he could lose himself to. A passion that would seize him, fueling the all-nighters and shielding him from doubtful spectators. Could music be that? Fate, or destiny?

The rest of the work day was spent agonizingly, distractedly. In a heartbeat, he found himself packing his bag and clocking out. The commute, too, never made it into his memories. His brain only resurrected when he realized he'd ridden a stop past his intended destination, his and Soobin’s new apartment, in which Soobin was currently living. In a rush, he got off and rode in the other direction.

The thought of seeing his boyfriend after a long day brightened his mood, and he felt normalcy flood back into him.

Before he had even stepped into the apartment, Soobin greeted him at the door. He could practically see the tail wagging behind him.

“Welcome home, honey,” Soobin said with a cheesy smile.

Beomgyu kissed his cheek as he closed the door behind him. “Save that for after I officially move in.”

“You have a box of things here so you're basically moved in already,” argued Soobin.

“It definitely does not work that way. I have a box of things at the office but I don't call that hell my home.”

Soobin pouted. “But your office doesn't have me. An apartment with your belongings and your boyfriend – sounds like home to me.”

Beomgyu, in spite of himself, gave in with a smile. “You're right. Wherever you are is my home.” Putting away his keys and coat, he peered over the stovetop and took a deep sniff. Soup – fantastic. He hoped it wasn't too salty. “How were classes today?”

“Alright, same as usual. I skipped lecture and watched the recording. Oh, Taehyun dropped off some snacks this morning.”

Beomgyu perked up. “Ooh, what kind?”

“He made sweet potato chips, apparently. They’re really good.”

“Taehyun is good at cooking,” Beomgyu said proudly. “I’ll send him a thank-you text later. Should we make him something in return?”

Soobin opened the Tupperware full of chips and offered one to Beomgyu, who took it with his mouth, crunching noisily. 

“Yummy,” he proclaimed.

“I can bake something, maybe,” Soobin suggested. “Custard bread? Do you think he’d like that?”

“He definitely would. I would offer to help, but…”

Soobin laughed loudly. “Yeah, no, don’t do that. I love you, but that would just be a disaster.”

He feigned hurt as he backed up to lean against the counter and crossed his arms. “Hey, I’m not that bad.”

Stirring the soup slowly, Soobin shook his head. “Remember those cookies we made together? You put a cup of salt in!”

“You were distracting me!”

Soobin calmly put a lid on the pot and stepped towards Beomgyu, whose lips jutted out in a pout. They were suddenly face-to-face, the meager distance made uncompromisingly clear with Soobin’s challenging whisper of “Yeah? Distracted by what?”

Pressed up against the counter, he glared at Soobin’s extremely close face, so close that he could make out individual eyelashes. “By your stupid face,” he got out.

Soobin inched his lips closer, until they just brushed against Beomgyu’s, so lightly that the touch could be mistaken for his breath. Beomgyu shuddered; Soobin’s hands came to rest on his waist.

When Beomgyu leaned forward for a proper kiss, Soobin pulled just out of reach and grinned smugly, eliciting a frustrated whine from Beomgyu. He was infuriating, really. 

“Cute,” Soobin murmured, hand coming up to thumb at his cheek. “You’re lovely.”

Bashful under Soobin’s devoted gaze, he averted his eyes to one side. Then he panicked, sending Soobin’s hands into the air, earning in turn a surprised shout from Soobin. “The soup!” Beomgyu all but yelled. “It’s bubbling!”

Soobin hefted a sigh, though he was still smiling. “I got it,” he said tiredly, lowering the heat and removing the lid. “Do you want to wash up? Dinner’s just about ready.”

Over dinner, Beomgyu stole bites from Soobin’s bowl, which didn't even matter because they were eating the same thing. He just did it to rile Soobin up a little. A failure – Soobin just let him take the bites. All he did was weakly protest and take a spoonful from Beomgyu’s in retaliation. The distinctly correct level of saltiness was a testament to Soobin’s everyday cooking practice.

When they were finished eating, Beomgyu washed the dishes after an intentional loss in rock-paper-scissors and then joined Soobin on his mattress on the floor. The bed frame hadn't arrived yet. And, well, technically it would be Beomgyu’s mattress in a few weeks, too. A studio apartment could only accommodate one bed after all (was what Beomgyu justified the decision with). 

Soobin was scrolling through his YouTube shorts. His algorithm was all over the place. Clips of League streamers, anime recommendations, gym tutorials, dessert recipes, r/AmItheAsshole stories.

“Oh, this guy is definitely the asshole,” Beomgyu judged, resting his chin on Soobin’s shoulder.

Soobin grunted. “The comments say that it's fake.”

“What? How can they tell?”

“He said his girlfriend left him for her young, hot boss. First of all, how likely is it that she and her boss are both willing to get into a relationship? Second, how does he know that her boss is young and hot? It's just suspicious.”

Beomgyu made a face. “It's not impossible…”

“Not impossible, but sus,” concluded Soobin. 

“I think we're underestimating the first point though. They're in the same line of work, so there's a common interest at least. We don't know if they actually got together, but I can see how she might rethink her own relationship if she meets someone interesting.” 

Soobin was quiet. Something felt a little off. 

Beomgyu hastily added, “But for sure it hints at something else being wrong in the relationship. It doesn't happen because of her boss, there was something about their relationship already that wasn't right for her.”

That didn't seem to help, but Soobin shrugged. “You're right. But I just think there are too many details that OP shouldn't know from his perspective. It reads like shitty fanfiction instead of his own experience.”

“Yeah, it’s suspicious for sure,” Beomgyu acquiesced, noting that Soobin hadn't really agreed with his take on the relationship dynamics. It was probably fine. Beomgyu wanted reassurance nonetheless. “Soobinie,” he called sweetly, with an index finger pointing to his lips. “Kiss?”

Soobin turned off his phone and rolled over, to Beomgyu’s satisfaction. “Come under the blanket, you'll get cold.”

“Will you kiss me if I do?”

“You think you deserve a kiss for such a small thing?” he asked incredulously.

“I think you want to kiss me,” Beomgyu corrected him.

Soobin gave in and tucked the blanket over Beomgyu, lovingly tugging the edges over to cover his far side. Then he paused to look at Beomgyu appraisingly and pressed a light, heart-fluttering kiss to his waiting mouth. “A kiss for an astute deduction.”

A syrupy smile spread across Beomgyu’s face. A little smug, mostly happy. He could feel his cheekbones twinge from the stretch – that was the kind of smile it was. 

He buried his face into Soobin’s chest. Clean smell, warm shirt, firm muscle. Beomgyu loved it. “I love you,” he told Soobin’s pecs.

He felt his hair being ruffled. “Sleepy?”

“Not really. Just wanna stay like this for a while.”

“Is talking allowed or do you want some quiet time?”

Beomgyu rubbed his eyes on Soobin’s soft, waffle-knit shirt. “You can talk. Talk as much as you want. I like your voice. And I like hearing it through your body, like this.” He pressed his ear to Soobin’s torso.

“You're really just a puppy,” sighed Soobin, scratching Beomgyu’s scalp lightly with the tips of his fingers. “Long day at work?”

To be honest, enveloped in this coziness, Beomgyu could hardly remember anything that happened at work. It was a fairly regular occurrence. Being with Soobin, the rest of the world didn't seem to matter so much. 

He combed through the day in recollection and lit up when he actually summoned memories. “Oh, right. Seungkwan offered to introduce me to Jihoon again. You know, Woozi.”

“The producer,” he nodded. “What'd you say?”

“Um, I asked for some time to think on it.”

Soobin’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh? Not a straight-up rejection?”

Beomgyu made a face and nuzzled deeper into Soobin’s chest. “I'm not sure yet, but something kept bugging me to consider it this time.”

“You wanna talk about it?” Soobin checked softly. His hand came to gently nudge Beomgyu’s chin up, so he could survey his expression.

Beomgyu scrunched up his face as tightly as he could.

Two strong fingers swooped in to pinch Beomgyu’s nose. Beomgyu fought back with a light swat to his lower region, upon which Soobin let go with a yell.

“Cheater,” Soobin sniffed, after recovering.

“Loser,” Beomgyu taunted back.

Settling back into their pre-battle positions, Beomgyu recalled the question they'd left off on. “Oh, yeah, I don't mind talking about it, but it's all just word vomit right now. If you want to hear about it.”

“Go for it. Believe it or not, I also like hearing you talk.”

Beomgyu sighed. “I mean, you know why I turned it down last time. But I'm wondering if maybe I was just avoiding the issue. Like, I was justifying it, but I was really just scared. It's symbolic, in a way.”

“How so?”

“If I take this opportunity this time, it's like I'm choosing music. I know it's technically not a binding commitment or anything, but it's basically saying that it's something I still want. And acknowledging that means I'll never be able to live a life not doing music without regrets.”

Soobin hummed, low and gravelly. It vibrated comfortably against Beomgyu’s cheek, pressed to Soobin’s body. 

“I was scared to acknowledge that, I guess. But now I'm wondering if maybe it'll be worth it, after all. The idea of having my dream in my hands is pretty tempting.”

“It makes sense,” Soobin said finally. “And, to be honest, you say that making that choice means acknowledging regrets? It sounds like you already do. If you really gave it up here, do you think that you'd be able to ever let it go fully? Or will you be doomed to just regret not trying forever?”

Beomgyu turned it over and over in his head. Would he be able to? He couldn't see him letting go in the next few years, that was for sure. Maybe when he was forty. Or maybe sixty. 

No, he could still see himself working his 9-to-5, raising kids, busy to no end, and yet thinking nonstop about a melody aching to be born. He could still see himself, silver-haired and hobbling, glancing longingly at his guitar. On his deathbed, fingers stiff but yearning to craft. 

Sure, even now, he forgot about it sometimes. He went days, sometimes weeks, without thinking about writing music. But the problem was that it always came back. Listening to a really good song and feeling the pain of envy. Or a really bad song and dying to rework it. The feeling shot through him when unexpected, leaving him jittery and boneless. 

“It really is too late…” Beomgyu whispered, surprised.

Soobin’s hand came to card through his hair. “You can take your time.”

“I have been taking my time,” he mumbled. “Too much time. People are already making it big at my age. Yeonjun –” he resolutely did not check Soobin’s reaction “-- is already making it big.”

“Is that why you're considering it? Because of Yeonjun?”

“...He definitely woke some ideas up from hibernation, but they were already there and not caused by him.” 

“Mm.”

“I know it's silly to try to be, like, the ex that won. Or compare our lives. But it just got me thinking, I guess. If I'm really satisfied with what I'm doing now.”

Soobin let out a sigh. “I get it, Beomgyu. I'm glad that you're considering it, at least. All I want is for you to be happy.”

“I know,” said Beomgyu quietly, staring up at Soobin with wide eyes. His were downturned, mouth grim. “I love you, okay? I want you to be happy too.”

Oh, Yeonjun. Ever the mood killer, when mentioned in front of Soobin. 

“Stay tonight?” he asked.

He paused. “I don't have a change of clothes for work tomorrow,” he started, but at the disappointed curl of Soobin’s lips, he hurriedly changed course. “But I guess I could just leave early.”

“I'm sorry, you don't have to,” he apologized.

“No, I want to. But in that case, get up. We have to brush our teeth before I fall asleep for good.”

***

Taehyun managed to scoop out some time for brunch on the Sunday before Christmas. Beomgyu and Kai were delighted, and lathered on equal parts of affection for Taehyun and contempt for the banking industry, as per usual.

Taehyun looked a little worse for wear, coming off of a busy (when was he not, really) period, but he smiled brightly when he caught sight of Beomgyu and Kai at a table through the window. His dark brown hair, still damp from presumably his post-workout shower, was tousled and due for a trim. In his puffer jacket and sweatpants, he was very distinctly in overworked Taehyun mode. But, again, when was he not?

“Hi hyung, long time no see,” he said to Beomgyu as he sat down.

“Hi,” Beomgyu echoed, slightly shyly. It’d been at least a month since they'd met in person, and Beomgyu’s awareness of Taehyun and Kai’s closeness made him a little unsure of how he should act. 

Kai thankfully interrupted and thumped Taehyun’s back. “Long time no see, buddy,” he said exaggeratedly. “Ages, really. Last time I saw you, you were just a wee little thing!”

Taehyun laughed – apparently he was in a good mood – and shook off Kai’s hand. “Beomgyu, how have you been lately?” His eyes were earnest.

Beomgyu chose to say the first thing he could think of, which happened to be the weather. “I'm fine but it’s been so dry lately. My skin is not taking it well. Here, feel.” He held out the back of his hand; Taehyun and Kai felt around his knuckles like a kid digging for fossils. 

“You want hand cream?” Taehyun fished from his pocket a thin, well-squeezed tube of fancy hand cream. “It smells good.”

“Yeah, gimme a squirt,” he accepted, holding out the back of his hand.

Kai wrinkled his nose at the crude wording.

“Also I saw Yeonjun last week.”

Taehyun’s jaw dropped open slightly. “That was fast.”

Beomgyu laughed nervously. “Haha. Maybe.”

“How did it go?”

A waitress chose this perfect timing to get their orders. Beomgyu allowed himself to splurge on waffles heaped with strawberries and cream. He figured he might need the comfort since clearly the scrutiny would be concentrated on him.

Naturally, when the waitress left, Taehyun and Kai turned on him again. Alas, no escape.

“It was very normal, I think.” Beomgyu messed with the hair sitting on his nape. It never sat quite right at this length. “He was friendly.”

“This is the driest description of talking to an ex I've ever heard,” commented Taehyun.

“Yeah, how'd he look? Was he thriving?” asked Kai excitedly. “Ooh, let me guess. He got more piercings. And a tattoo – he got a tattoo, right?”

“I could see that,” Taehyun agreed.

Beomgyu tugged at the stray strands of hair and put his hands down resolutely. “His ears were the same, but he already had a ton of piercings back then. I think he got a tattoo on his arm, though.”

“Knew it,” gloated Kai. “What was it of? Oh, I know.” Eyes huge, arms gesturing loudly, he declared, “Your name. I can see it. ‘Beomgyu,’ in cursive, surrounded by flowers.” 

A horrifying image. “No!” 

“Maybe not on his arm,” Taehyun slyly inserted.

Doubly distressed, he barked out “No!” again and covered his face with his hands. “Stop it. He actually changed a bit. He was wearing normal adult clothes. Like a sweater and slacks.”

“Crazy,” Taehyun and Kai said simultaneously. This was apparently frequent enough of an event that they wordlessly high fived without missing a beat.

“You guys are scaring me,” Beomgyu whimpered. “Do you want to hear the story or not?”

“Yes!” Kai said immediately, clutching Beomgyu’s shoulder. “I'm sorry, hyung. Please go on. We'll be normal.”

“We're so normal,” Taehyun echoed.

“Neither of you are normal but we can move on,” Beomgyu dismissed.

“Okay, he looked old. Then what?”

“I didn't say he looked old,” Beomgyu hissed despairingly. “Like, he's handsome. Everyone knows that. He's always been like that. But his style matured a little, I guess.”

“Old and handsome,” concluded Kai with a smirk.

“Stop that. It's an objective judgment.”

Taehyun, sensing Beomgyu’s growing frustration, patted him soothingly. “We know, hyung. Sorry for teasing. Tell us what you talked about.”

Oh, beautiful, angelic, empathetic Taehyun.

“We mostly just caught up on work, friends, basic stuff. Oh, um, there was a weird moment when he was trying not to judge me but it really felt like he was. Because I'm still in marketing.”

They both grimaced sympathetically.

“It's none of his business,” Kai frowned. “You're thriving.”

“But am I?” Beomgyu wondered. “It's true that I never really wanted a job like this. I don't actually give a fuck about marketing. I actually find it kind of silly.”

Kai protested, “I mean, it might not be exactly what you want now, but work isn't your whole life. It's really just a small bit.”

“Wish I could think that way,” Taehyun joked. “Kidding. But hyung, maybe it's a good thing that you're realizing this. It's not too late to change your situation if you're not happy.”

“True. But I think I'm still kind of scared. I don't know if it's just one of those dreams that everyone has. Most people have some childhood dream that they've set aside for realism, right? Why can't I just let it go?”

Taehyun looked very serious. That was how Beomgyu knew he was going to say something good. His eyes drilled into Beomgyu’s as he delivered his dose of wisdom. “Sure, lots of people give up their dreams. Doesn't mean they wouldn't have succeeded had they tried. Doesn't mean you won't succeed if you try.” He crossed his legs under the table. “If anything, I admire the part of you that can't let it go. I envy you guys, even. You have a passion. You know what you care about. That's very cool.”

Their orders arrived off the high of Taehyun’s motivational speech. Beomgyu mulled it over as he snapped a picture of his very good-looking waffles.

He heard Kai murmur, “You don't like banking?”

“Don't get me wrong, I like the nature of the work to some extent. I don't mind. And I like it more than other types of work I've tried. But can I really say that it's my passion? I don't think so.”

Kai was looking at Taehyun with a perplexed gaze. “I didn't know. You were always working so hard to make it in.”

Taehyun sighed. “You don't have to pity me. It's quite normal, I think. You guys are the special ones, to have found something you love to do. And I'm not in a bad position at all. I'm not unhappy about it. I worked hard for it because I figured it was an option I could trust myself to do well enough in.”

Maybe he really was lucky, to feel such a strong pull to music despite the many easier and safer options he had, Beomgyu thought. He took a bite of waffle, the perfect amount of cream and berry sitting atop. It was sweet. He felt happy. The world was kind and soft.

“Thanks, guys,” Beomgyu said as he munched. “I feel better about this, actually.”

“I didn't help,” Kai pouted. “I'm still a student. No practical advice. Just tremendous debt.”

“You always help,” he countered, fluffing up Kai’s hair. Oops. He got a tiny speck of whipped cream in it.

He and Taehyun made clandestine eye contact and silently agreed to not tell him.

Kai brightened and sat up rod-straight. Startled by the sudden movement, Beomgyu withdrew his hand and prayed he hadn't been found out.

“I will bestow a fun fact I learned today to help you,” Kai declared. “Did you know that echidnas have four-headed penises?”

“What the fuck does that mean,” cringed Beomgyu.

Kai excitedly pulled up a picture on his phone. “Actually, they can only ejaculate out of two heads at a time! It's said that they alternate which two heads are used so they can increase the frequency of mating.”

Taehyun took one look at the echidna penis, averted his eyes in disgust, and sighed, “I hate vet students.”

***

Consulting with his friends and Soobin regarding the decision made him feel, if not necessarily good, at least better. It wouldn't hurt to give it a try this time. He had so little to lose, and the whole world to gain.

With this thought, Beomgyu clocked into work with some optimism. The office was more abuzz with work-unrelated talk than ever. As he maneuvered to his desk, he heard snippets of conversations: “Working on Christmas Eve should be a crime,” “Weather report is predicting a snowstorm next week,” “I've gained four pounds from eating Christmas cookies and I'm not stopping,” and other various murmurs of little import. 

Though he didn't love working on Christmas Eve either, at least they were allowed to leave on time, Beomgyu figured. Taehyun would probably be working late into the night, holiday be damned.

He and Soobin had a cozy night planned: dinner, wine, movie. Not particularly different from many of their nights together, admittedly, but it was Christmas. Maybe Beomgyu could cook up some spiced sangria… Soobin was making dinner – he did most of the cooking between the two of them, though Beomgyu could manage in a pinch – and he wanted to contribute somehow. Soobin did have that exam in January coming up…

A light bump to his shoulder made him look up.

“Choi Beomgyu, no daydreaming in the office,” Seungkwan scolded him. 

“Hyung,” Beomgyu said happily, enclosing a hand around Seungkwan’s fist, which had been the tap against his shoulder. He pulled their hands down and swung them lightly, like swinging a jump rope.

“Somehow it seems like you don't respect my authority,” Seungkwan said grumpily, letting his hand be tugged this way and that.

“It's because you never mean it,” giggled Beomgyu.

Seungkwan sighed, more performative than anything. “Ha-ha-ha,” he laughed dryly. “You're right though. What was on your mind? Christmas plans?”

He grinned. “Yeah, with Soobin. What about you? Special plans?”

“My parents are visiting,” he answered absently. His gaze was lingering on something behind Beomgyu, some distance away. With interest, Beomgyu watched Seungkwan’s pupils slip from left to right, following whatever (whoever) was stealing his attention.

“No hot dates, then,” he said, finding the way Seungkwan’s eyes snapped back to him very funny. A snicker or two escaped him.

“No,” he sighed. “Well, I like spending Christmas with my family, anyway. Dates are already stressful. You don't need the stress of the holidays adding to that.”

“But holidays are so fun,” Beomgyu protested.

“Young one,” Seungkwan said loftily, eyebrows knit in pompous concern, “With the wisdom of age you will learn that holidays are a stressful time. You may have fun, and you may be happy, but it'll hit you when you're not expecting it.”

“Ey, you're just trying to scare me,” he said skeptically.

Seungkwan brightened. “Yeah,” he chuckled, slapping Beomgyu’s arm genially. “I love the holidays. There's tangerines and donuts in the kitchen.”

Changing the topic before they were told off for slacking, Beomgyu showed Seungkwan some Excel sheets he was working on, in true holiday spirit.

His good mood, thanks to Seungkwan and a favorable evaluation, persisted throughout the day. Over lunch, Beomgyu told Seungkwan that he'd give the shadowing a shot, to his friend’s delight. All in all, it almost completely usurped his nerves.

He separated from Seungkwan after lunch with a trip to the bathroom, where, literally as he was doing his business, he thought of telling Yeonjun. About the shadowing opportunity, not the bathroom. Wildly, he thought, Yeonjun would be happy to hear it.

They hadn't said much since they'd met up. This would be the first time Beomgyu was initiating.

beomgyu @bamgyuuuu
about the music thing
i accepted an offer to shadow a producer who's a friend of a coworker
maybe it really isn't too late for me 😎

yeonjun @yawnzzn
that's amazing congratulations 
you work fast

 

beomgyu @bamgyuuuu
thanks :)

 

yeonjun @yawnzzn
speaking of working fast
when do you get off work? wanna tag along as i run errands?

 

beomgyu @bamgyuuuu
i get off at 5
but it'll have to be quick, if that's okay

 

yeonjun @yawnzzn
yeah ofc i can meet you wherever, send me a location

At five, with the sun almost fully set, Yeonjun was in a long wool coat, his gray scarf slung fashionably over one shoulder. As he approached, Beomgyu could make out his messy, wind-blown bangs and growing smile. The last orange rays of the setting sun peeked out from behind him, sinking fast as he strode closer. When he waved, polite but happy, Beomgyu couldn't help but reciprocate, both smile and wave.

“Hey, Beomgyu,” he called out, before they'd even gotten within step of each other.

“Hi,” he said. He still wasn't quite sure how to act around him. “What's your errand, by the way?”

“Two things,” he answered, checking his phone. “One: buy butter, a single carrot, heavy whipping cream, and chicken broth. Huh, that's a weird list. Whatever. Two: pick up the cake my cousin ordered.”

Beomgyu laughed a little. “That sounds like my mom’s last-minute shopping list around the holidays.”

“That would be because it's my mom’s list. Mothers and holidays, you know what it's like.” Yeonjun pointed down a street to their right. “Wanna start walking? You said you had to make it quick, right?”

“Yeah,” Beomgyu sighed. “I have forty-five minutes to spare. Said I'd be home by six.”

“Someone waiting for you?” Yeonjun asked. It was very casual, in line with their brisk steps. Tossed out like a shrug. He was good at this.

Beomgyu tried to keep it casual, too. “Uh, yeah. My boyfriend.” He tried in vain to not search for Yeonjun’s expression.

He looked genuinely surprised. He was doing that thing, mouth slightly open, eyebrows lifted halfway up his forehead. Beomgyu wondered if perhaps he shouldn't have come after all.

His doubts were somewhat assuaged when Yeonjun recovered. Again, he was good at that. “Oh, cool. How long’ve you been together?”

“About two years now,” Beomgyu said automatically. Then he remembered that he and Soobin technically got together just two months after he ended things with Yeonjun. Was that weird? Was Yeonjun doing the mental math? 

“I see,” he said. Maybe he would've said more, but they had arrived at the grocer, so Yeonjun switched gears and was hunting down his items with remarkable efficiency.

When they arrived at the dairy section, Yeonjun puzzled over the cartons of cream. “What's the difference between heavy cream and whipping cream?” he asked, lips jutted out in the usual manner. “Should I just get both?”

“In this economy?”

Yeonjun laughed for the first time since they first met up on the sidewalk. “I mean, I'd rather not.”

“Do you know if it's for baking? If it is, I'm pretty sure it's heavy whipping cream is the same as heavy cream. I usually get heavy cream.” Well, Soobin usually did. Beomgyu was not allowed to bake unsupervised. But, glad as he was that Yeonjun knew he was taken, he figured it was not the best move to be name-dropping Soobin all over the place.

“Picked up baking, huh?” he grunted as he dropped a carton of heavy cream into his basket. “Gonna be honest, never pictured you knowing your way around a kitchen.”

“Hey, I'm plenty capable,” scoffed Beomgyu.

Yeonjun turned to him and raised an eyebrow. “You sure? So I just hallucinated that time you almost burned my kitchen down?”

“Yeah. You should see a doctor for that. Pretty serious hallucination.”

“And I'm just hallucinating you trying to microwave a fork, right? And preheating the oven with a fuck ton of pans still inside? And running in a panic into my room while I was in a Zoom meeting instead of turning the oven off?”

With each incriminating detail, Beomgyu’s smile grew more and more sheepish. “That's crazy. You must be confusing me with a wacko.”

Yeonjun snorted. “Yeah, I know a lot of those.”

“Don't look at me when you say that!”

“I'm having a conversation with you, it's normal to look at you!”

Accordingly, it took them a little longer than expected to finish shopping. By the time they had checked out, it was a quarter to six. And they still hadn't gotten the cake.

“Oh, fuck, we are so not getting you home by six,” cursed Yeonjun, shoving his wallet and receipt into his coat pocket.

Beomgyu bit his lip. Soobin wouldn't be happy, especially since of all days it was Christmas Eve. “Let's just hurry. I'll get something at the bakery as an apology.”

“Okay,” he said, then slung his reusable grocery bag, patterned with cartoon flowers and cats, over his shoulder. “Let's run for it, then.”

“Huh?” was all Beomgyu got out before Yeonjun was jogging down the sidewalk, bag knocking against his bag in rhythm. 

“Come on!” he shouted, showing no signs of slowing.

“For fuck’s sake,” Beomgyu groaned. Then he sprinted after Yeonjun. “Wait for me! Holy shit, I can't breathe – don't leave me behind! Hyung!”

Yeonjun walked him to his apartment after cakes were obtained. Beomgyu had texted Soobin to let him know that he'd be late, so they could walk instead of trying to run. The cakes’ survival depended on that.

Talking to Yeonjun was a little strange. All they could share was the past, but they always talked around the fact that they had been involved way beyond regular friends. Like the oven disaster – they just conveniently left out the fact that after Yeonjun had turned off the oven and aired out the smoking pans, he'd pushed Beomgyu into the wall and kissed him fiercely. Then, once Beomgyu had gotten horny (which didn't take very long), he'd returned to his Zoom meeting like nothing had happened.

He was sure that they'd both thought of that, and the way Yeonjun had fucked Beomgyu’s mouth silly post-Zoom. But they just chose not to acknowledge it. 

They'd always done that. Ignore the inconvenient things, until they blew up. Well. Beomgyu never claimed to have changed all that much. 

Yeonjun evidently thought so too.

“You're exactly the same, Beomgyu,” he was chuckling. “Everything but the hair. I like the brown, it suits you. But damn. Your personality has not changed a single bit.”

He wasn't sure if he should be offended. “What does that mean?” he asked, half playful, half genuinely curious.

“Fuck,” he choked out, laughs sputtering to a stop. “You're still stubborn. Funny. A little childish.” Beomgyu was about to protest when Yeonjun looked down at his shoes. Beomgyu could see just the curve of his cheekbones, raised high into a hidden smile. “We're really similar, aren't we?”

It was a little too vulnerable for Beomgyu, which meant it was time to deflect with humor. “I don't know, I think you're more than a little childish,” he said snottily, the irony not lost on him.

But Yeonjun really had matured. He just laughed lightly and adjusted his grip on his bags. “Maybe so. But it brings me comfort to know that I'm not the only childish adult in his mid-twenties.”

“You're older than me, so I don't know if you should be feeling comfortable,” he parried, but inside he was souring. We're not similar. We've never been more different. I'm the one who's stayed the same. And you're the one who's racing ahead, effortlessly.

Maybe Yeonjun sensed the shift in mood. He sobered up; they were at Beomgyu’s – Soobin and Beomgyu’s – apartment already. Already dark outside, the only light came from the building's dimly lit windows and the single weak street lamp beside them.

Yeonjun looked sharp in the lighting. The point of his nose, the purse of his lips, the tension in his chin and jaw, even in his neck behind his scarf. The only exception was the soft look in his eyes.

“Beomgyu, I'm sorry,” he apologized right away. “I'll be frank, when I first messaged you, I assumed something might happen between us. I always regretted the way we ended things… But that's in the past. You have a boyfriend. Things seem serious with him.” He checked for agreement from Beomgyu, who nodded meekly. “Yeah. I don't know if I made you uncomfortable. I'm sorry about that.”

“No,” Beomgyu whispered.

“I'll stay away if you want me to. Swear. But if you don't, I'd really like to be friends. Talking to you feels so right. Spending time with you is so fun. And I seriously think we're similar. Maybe it's because you had such a huge impact on my life already, to the point where I'm just seeing the parts of you that you left in me.” Yeonjun rubbed his forehead with more force than probably necessary. “Fuck. You haven't changed, but God, I have.”

“That is true,” Beomgyu agreed. He didn't really know what to say. Being friends with an ex was usually frowned upon, right? Even just seeing Yeonjun, his mind was filled with memories of their past. 

Their old texts, smattered with links to shopping sites; critique on his coffee order on the flights between LA and New York; incoming FaceTime calls without so much as a word of warning, calls that would stretch on for hours of silence, calls that would end after three words. 

Fights over silly things, like how Yeonjun didn't know Beomgyu’s phone number by heart, or how Beomgyu would order him UberEats without checking that he was at home. Voice calls that would start with them teasing and end with them moaning. The rush of emotion he'd felt when Yeonjun had finally held his hand.

Had he really moved on? Wasn't this a little treacherous?

Yeonjun sighed and let his hand fall to his side. “Anyway, I'll leave it up to you. You can just DM me if you make a decision. I'll understand either way. Though I really hope we can hang out as friends.”

Of course, with one big decision made, another fell onto his lap. On the same day, nevertheless.

“I'll message you,” he said quickly. “I… I also want to be friends. But I need to sort some things out. Give me a little time.”

“Of course,” Yeonjun smiled. He turned to leave. “Congrats again. You're gonna kill it. And Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” he said weakly, and then Yeonjun was disappearing off into the dark, the silhouette of his coat all that he could make out, just like the first time he'd spotted him several weeks ago.

Beomgyu took the stairs two at a time, careful not to make a mess of the cake, its box clasped tightly in both hands. To unlock the door, he balanced the box atop one hand and fumbled with the key in the other. When the door swung open, he was greeted with an empty kitchen, though there were signs of dinner preparations on the stove and counters.

“Soobinie?” he called out, placing the cake on the counter and exhaling a sigh of relief as it landed safely at its final destination.

No response led Beomgyu to venture past the kitchen and into the main living space. Soobin was at his desk, headphones on. So that was why he hadn't heard him.

Beomgyu tiptoed closer and then dropped two hands on his shoulders in a surprise attack. “Boo!”

Soobin jumped and yelled, “Fuck!” at the top of his lungs. It was similar to what he sounded like playing League. The subsequent slam on his desk was also similar to his League behavior. It was very much not normal for a simple surprise attack, though. He was usually unfazed by Beomgyu’s best attempts to startle him.

The volume of the slam and the way the flimsy desk shuddered upon impact made Beomgyu shift backwards timidly. “I'm sorry,” he said quickly. “I shouldn't have scared you.”

Soobin’s shoulders visibly rose and fell as he took a deep breath. Then he turned to face Beomgyu, with an apologetic expression. “No, I don't know why I overreacted. Sorry.”

Beomgyu took a peek at Soobin’s screen. It was split between a tab of practice questions and a tab of notes. He must've been studying.

Feeling incredibly guilty, the corners of Beomgyu’s mouth turned downwards. “I'm sorry for being late, too…” he said meekly. “You even made dinner, and you're studying, and…” Embarrassingly, he felt tears prick at his eyes, the hot sting reminding him just how immature he must seem.

Soobin stood up immediately, eyebrows knit. His hands flew to Beomgyu’s cheeks, holding him in place to get a close look at his watering eyes. He knew Beomgyu too well.

“Baby,” he said quietly. “It's okay. Don't cry. I'm not mad. I would do all this and more for you any day.”

For some reason, that made Beomgyu feel even worse. He blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. “You're always doing things for me,” he said, voice thick.

Soobin’s concerned eyes were fixed on Beomgyu, intent on making eye contact. “I want to,” he said firmly. Then, a little uncertainly, he added, “Do you not want that?”

“No, of course I love everything you do for me,” he hurried to say. “I'm grateful, I really am. I want to be better for you.”

“You don't need to, Beomie. You're already the best I could have.”

Soobin’s persistent kindness was bound to prevail. Already Beomgyu could feel the guilt, sadness, embarrassment melting away, replaced by a gooey warmth. “I disagree, but I love you,” he murmured, his hands settling on Soobin’s waist. “Let's not argue on this. Let's eat. I brought cake as an apology dessert.”

Soobin placed a gentle kiss on his lips and smiled, small and sweet. “Okay. I love you too.”

They made the four-step trek to the kitchen and Beomgyu opened up the cake box to give Soobin a glimpse. Strawberries glazed in syrup gleamed brightly back up at them, the crowning jewels of the white cake. 

“Strawberry shortcake,” Soobin realized happily. 

Beomgyu beamed. “You said that in Japan, they have this kind of cake for Christmas a lot. So I tried to get something similar.”

Soobin kissed him securely, an arm snaking around his neck. “You remembered. Thank you.”

Caught up in the delight of the moment, Beomgyu blabbed, “Yeonjun told me to get something else but I insisted on this one. It just felt perfect to me.”

“You're perfect to me,” Soobin was quick to say. He then did a double take: “Wait. You were with Yeonjun?”

Ah. He shouldn't have brought it up fresh off their weird moment. 

“Um, yeah,” he admitted, though. Since he'd already given it away, it was best to be honest, he supposed. “It was a spur of the moment thing. I told him about the shadowing thing and he wanted to chat, so I tagged along while he ran errands.”

Soobin’s expression was unreadable, but that in itself was a clear message. 

“I didn't know that you guys were hanging out.”

“We haven't been!” Beomgyu said quickly. “Today was out of the blue. We haven't even really been texting.”

Soobin made a noncommittal noise.

Beomgyu deflated. “I should've told you I was with him…”

But to his surprise, Soobin shook his head. “I don't want to be the jealous boyfriend,” he insisted. “I even broke down about it last time. I want to just trust you – I do trust you. It's okay. I mean, it's not my place to be giving you permission, but I’ll be okay. I won't lose my head again.”

Beomgyu’s mind was spinning. He could tell that Soobin really did want to not worry about it, but it was clear from the rambling speech that he was struggling. 

It would be so simple if he could just assure Soobin that he would never see Yeonjun again. That he felt absolutely nothing for that man. And that all he ever thought about was Soobin, Soobin, Soobin, from morning to night.

But it wasn't true. 

In his heart, Yeonjun still stirred up an amalgamation of emotions. Nostalgia, for one. Jealousy, for another. And, perhaps the most confusing one of all, an unnameable sense of significance.

It probably should've been obvious since the first message came through, when Beomgyu didn't even consider ignoring the message or declining the offer for real. And he always liked spending time with Yeonjun. He was cool – his confidence, his energy. Beomgyu looked up to him. At the same time, Beomgyu wanted to be equally respected and loved by Yeonjun. What separated romantic and platonic affection? All Beomgyu knew was that Yeonjun was an important, special, irreplaceable person to him.

So it would be a lie if he told Soobin that Yeonjun meant nothing, that Yeonjun could just be tossed aside if Soobin wished it. No, he wanted to be friends with him. He wanted to keep him in his life.

How could he explain this to Soobin, though, without making him feel worse?

“I'll tell you in advance if I hang out with him,” Beomgyu decided. It was the least he could do. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks,” he said simply.

It probably wasn't enough, thought Beomgyu, feeling a little numb. But he didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to say.

So he just clapped his hands and said, with false cheer, “Shall we eat, then? Dessert first?”

Thankfully, Soobin went along with it. “Dessert after dinner,” he warned, guarding the cake from Beomgyu’s pretend-grabby hands.

Beomgyu helped to reheat and plate the food. They ate at the little folding table they had set up in the kitchen area. It was secondhand and slightly wobbly, but Soobin had placed a candle in the middle. There was a little pool of warm, melted wax in the center. Soobin wordlessly relit the wick.

They ate well and chatted aimlessly about work and school, family updates, and even the latest League update, which spurred a heated debate on key bindings. Then, they fielded calls from their respective families, greeted each others’ parents, and excused themselves when the sputtering connection got to them. Which meant it was time for a wine refill and a shitty Hallmark movie.

“I'll make some sangria,” Beomgyu remembered all of a sudden. The idea had only been from the morning of. He had been so hopeful this morning. Kind of tragic, really. It was true that only long falls awaited high hopes.

“Sure.” Soobin fetched his laptop and logged into Netflix, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the mattress. He pulled a blanket over himself and rested his head on the mattress. It looked like his neck would suffer the consequences.

Beomgyu simmered up a simple sangria with the wines they had and some fruit and spices. It was one of those forgiving recipes, with which you could trust your intuition. A pinch of nutmeg here, a few cranberries there. It was hard to go wrong. He hummed peacefully as he stirred the concoction on the stove.

After shutting off the burner with a click and pouring the ruby red drink into two paper cups (they didn't have glasses in the apartment yet), he carefully transported them to the floor near Soobin.

“Thanks, Beoms,” mumbled Soobin, rubbing his eyes with a big yawn.

Beomgyu knew then that Soobin was not going to last a whole movie without falling asleep. And indeed, a mere twelve minutes into the shitty Christmas rom-com they were watching, Soobin had succumbed to a deep sleep, his mouth fluttering open as he breathed. 

Beomgyu sighed, drained his red-stained cup in one long gulp, and took a picture of Soobin. Then he closed the laptop, let his head gently fall onto Soobin’s shoulder, and dozed off himself.

It’d had its moments, but it wasn't a bad way to spend Christmas Eve, snoring away on his boyfriend, tucked away from the freeze outside.

***

In the stead of sugar plum fairies, Beomgyu dreamed of a sweet memory.

He was sitting on the floor, back to the wall, phone in hand as it charged in the outlet beside him. His butt was numb, but his phone was still only at 12%, so he resigned himself to being rooted to the floor.

Instagram was no longer entertaining. Nothing on YouTube to watch. No incoming messages. That was the worst part. 

He felt like he was always waiting, waiting, waiting. Waiting to get off work. Waiting for his roommates to come home. Waiting for his damn phone to charge. Waiting for a reply from Yeonjun. 

Waiting for a sign from the universe – something, anything – that would tell him to give up, or to change. He put his phone down on the floor and slumped over, dejected at this thought. He didn't have the heart to end things with Yeonjun. But he didn't have the courage to ask for more.

Was he doomed to just be in a state of waiting, paralyzed, until things crumbled?

He let himself slide down the floor until he was lying flat like a starfish.

Then there was a knock at the door, and Beomgyu twitched. If it was a roommate, they'd just come in. Maybe it was a neighbor. He pulled himself up reluctantly and opened the door, fumbling to comb his hair back into a proper state. 

Behind the door was a tall man. That was his first impression. Tall, a little lanky, with slightly messy black hair. He was unfazed by the door suddenly swinging open, but upon making eye contact he blinked.

“Can I help you?” Beomgyu asked warily, half hiding behind the door.

The man took a step back. “You're Heeseung’s roommate. Beomgyu.”

He narrowed his eyes. “And you are?”

“I'm Soobin,” he said.

“That doesn't help much.”

“I'm dropping off Heeseung’s Tupperware…?” 

For some reason, Soobin was acting like Beomgyu was the weird one. Which was rude, because he was pretty sure he was being perfectly sane, thank you very much. 

“How do I know you're not lying?” Beomgyu challenged. Did he really think Soobin was lying? No, not really. But was he offended that he was being made out to be the weirdo? Yes. Fuck yes.

Soobin bristled. “I'm not lying. He said he would give you a heads up. Did you not get that?”

“Oh.” Beomgyu cast a longing glance at his phone, charging several paces away. “I dunno. I didn't see anything.”

He heard a quiet sigh.

“Anyway, I'll take the Tupperware. Wanna come in? I'm bored.”

Beomgyu ushered Soobin into the apartment. He'd only been living here for a month, when work started, so he was still getting used to things. And he was lonely. Ever since he'd come back from his week-long visit to Yeonjun’s, he'd just been subsisting. Living just enough to be alive. 

Soobin did not know any of this, though, and looked flustered. “Oh, I'm okay, I mean, you don't have to–”

“Want a drink? I have water, green tea, milk…”

“No, I'm really fine,” he interjected hurriedly.

Beomgyu sat on the beanbag next to the couch he'd forced Soobin onto. He was a little lower in elevation compared to his guest, so when he looked up at him he had to lift his chin a bit. He probably looked a little silly.

“What was your name again? Sorry, I was startled earlier.”

“S-Soobin,” he stammered. 

“Ah, right! And you knew my name already.”

Soobin scratched his neck uncomfortably. “Yeah. Heeseung's mentioned you before.”

He perked up. “Ooh, what'd he say?”

“You play League.”

He waited for more. “Fuck, that's it?” Beomgyu shook his head emphatically. “I have so many redeeming qualities that he could've mentioned.”

“Yeah,” Soobin agreed, slightly dazed. 

“Well, do you play, then?”

Still somewhat out of it, he repeated, “Yeah.” It sat in the air between them for a few still seconds. He cleared his throat. “Um, yes. Heeseung and I have ranked together before.”

“No way!” said Beomgyu happily. Something in common with mysterious mutual friend, soon to be his own friend. He was conquering the monotony of life like a pro.

“You should join us for a match sometime,” Soobin said. “It'd be fun.”

“Okay!” he agreed easily.

And indeed Beomgyu had, in a few weeks’ time. In that hellish match, Soobin had been quite different from the initial shy stranger who’d come to drop off Tupperware. Both in-game (chat) and aloud: he and Beomgyu were the causes of more than one desperate request to shut up.

The dream shifted. 

Soobin was hunched over on the couch, a controller undergoing incredible abuse under his raging fingers. Heeseung, though slightly less frenzied, was concentrating so hard on the TV screen that he looked like he could start levitating at any moment, from sheer will.

Beomgyu, fresh out of the shower, adjusted the towel around his waist. He normally had a bathrobe that made things easier what with two roommates, but it was waiting to be washed after an unfortunate sauce incident. Now he just had a towel for his lower half and a random shirt thrown on, though the water seeping through rendered it somewhat useless.

“Yeah, fuck him up,” he jeered as Soobin’s character landed a series of hits.

Soobin visibly stiffened and lost his combo. A tight grin appeared on Heeseung’s face as the tide turned. Beomgyu, though he hadn't meant to stay out here for so long barely dressed, lingered to see the final outcome.

When Heeseung won with a triumphant drop of his controller, Soobin groaned and buried his head in his arms. Then, of course, he whipped around and glared at Beomgyu, complaining, “If you hadn't–”

He turned red and fell silent. Heeseung took over. 

“Thanks for the assist, Beomgyu.”

“It wasn't meant for you,” he said, sticking out his tongue. 

He was intrigued by the face Soobin was making, which was something like an embarrassed frown, the corners of his mouth turned all the way down. His neck was bright pink.

“Well, Soobin wasted my encouragement so maybe I'll cheer for Heeseung next time,” Beomgyu finally said, after a moment of observing that pitiful state.

Soobin resolutely turned back around to face the TV. “I want a rematch, that was unfair.”

“Sure,” Beomgyu said airily, also swiveling around to make his way to his room. The air was starting to get cold on his slightly damp skin. And his shirt was definitely transparent already.

Yeonjun had texted him. Beomgyu perked up and jumped onto his bed, belly-flop.

yj 💘
i can come next friday
i'm free from work for a week

 

me
rly?? 

 

yj 💘
yeah
u got room in ur bed for one more?

 

me
well i guess i can make some space 

 

yj 💘
don't act all coy 

 

me
stop me then

 

yj 💘
oh i will on friday

 

me
we'll see about that~

Beomgyu smiled and hugged his phone to his chest. 

His vision went dark and stayed dark. He was in a similar state – damp hair dripping into the bed. The only difference was that there was heat against his chest, and strands of fluffy damaged hair tickling his nose.

“Don't breathe on my neck,” Yeonjun complained, hand reaching over to blindly grapple at Beomgyu’s arm. He missed, and his fingers very nearly shot up Beomgyu’s nostrils.

“Don't grope me,” Beomgyu said back into his neck. He let his lips lightly brush against the skin and smiled when Yeonjun flinched.

Yeonjun flipped over to face Beomgyu with a frown. “Thought you liked it when I groped you.”

Beomgyu pretended to think. “Hmm, I don't know…”

He pushed his face closer, until their foreheads were touching. “You seemed to like it last summer at my place.”

“Whatever makes you think that?” he said, feigning innocence with wide eyes.

“Oh, I don't know,” Yeonjun said, eyes fixed on Beomgyu’s lips. “Aquarium?”

“Don't know what you're talking about.”

“The dark hallway between the jellyfish and the octopus?”

“Hmm…”

“If you don't remember, I can remind you,” Yeonjun whispered as he leaned in for a kiss.

Beomgyu obliged for several slow, heart-stuttering kisses, their eyes half-closed. He liked the way Yeonjun dipped in with his whole body to deepen the kisses. He liked being held, hot skin on hot skin, fit tight together. 

They fit so right together. They were always coming together by chance, without planning in advance, and things fell into place. Not that they were without their challenges, but Beomgyu couldn't imagine any relationship that was so God-given as theirs. Fate had brought them together.

“Do you love me?” Beomgyu asked suddenly, softly. Hopefully – waveringly.

Distracted, Yeonjun reached for him again, but Beomgyu pulled away, his heart sinking. It took a second, but a flash of realization shot through his eyes.

“Beoms,” Yeonjun began, but it was too slow for Beomgyu.

“Do you?” he repeated faintly.

“I–I do.” 

Beomgyu waited. His entire chest felt swollen with nervous air, inside which his heart thrummed. Thrilled at the admission he'd been fishing for, for so long. Terrified of what it meant.

Yeonjun took a deep breath, exhaled, and sat up. “We should talk about this.”

Beomgyu scrambled to right himself. 

“I missed you a lot, while you were in New York. I like you – um. I love you, probably.” Yeonjun ran a hand through his hair, the hand stilling at the nape of his neck. “I don’t, I don't want you to get the wrong idea. I want to love you. I want to take this seriously. I just don't know…”

He had trailed off. Beomgyu knew he had a stricken look on his face.

Yeonjun’s hand approached his cheek, a curled knuckle reaching to dab at the corner of his eye. 

“I'm not crying,” he heard himself say stiffly.

“I know you're not,” was what Yeonjun said in the dream, his concerned eyes unmoving, always gentle, always caring, but always, always motionless. Simply watching him with a steady, if regretful, gaze.

When Beomgyu woke up, his heart was still speeding. His chest heaved up and down for breath.

Beside him, now disentangled, Soobin was scrolling on his phone. They'd gotten into the bed at some point in the night. Beomgyu didn't remember it clearly. The images from his past still vividly occupied his mind.

The vision of Yeonjun, slightly drawn away from him despite sharing a bed, haunted him. Was that pity in his eyes? Remorse? Did he really love him, or was it to sate his greediness?

No, Yeonjun wouldn't lie to him. Their love, immature and convoluted as it was, was real. Clumsy as a foal on tottering legs, vibrant as a blooming dahlia. They planned for nothing, but attempted everything. Their memories were anything but faded: saturated with color and light, fragrance and warmth. Even at the end. Even after the end. They were given all but longevity.

Likely from his gasps for air, Soobin noticed that he was awake. He lowered his phone and turned on his side to peer at Beomgyu. “You okay?” he asked. His voice was so low in the mornings.

Beomgyu felt around for his hand and squeezed it tight when their fingers met. “Nightmare,” he explained tersely.

With his free hand, Soobin smoothed Beomgyu’s bangs off his forehead, exposing it to cool air. Then his thumb lightly brushed against his cheek, just below his eyes.

“You're crying,” Soobin murmured, wonderingly.

“I'm not,” Beomgyu insisted. It reminded him again of what had just occurred in his dream, and a fresh wave of tears surfaced. 

He didn't know why he was crying. He didn't miss being like that with Yeonjun. He didn't miss laying with Yeonjun, kissing lazily. He didn't miss flirting with Yeonjun. It wasn't that he wanted to go back.

And yet there was some sense of loss, upon waking up. What did he lose? A person? A feeling? A time?

Soobin kept stopping his tears in their tracks with his fingers, fleeting touches on his cheeks. “Tell me what's wrong, baby.”

He himself did not know what was wrong, so he remained silent. His nose was starting to get stuffy from crying laying down. When he made to sit up, Soobin supported his back and stopped his head from hitting the wall. Sweet as ever, Soobin.

“Do you want anything?” he asked gently.

Beomgyu shook his head. Then he leaned into Soobin, weaseling his face into the space between his neck and chin and withdrawing with a frown when he was greeted with scratchiness. 

“Prickly,” he muttered, swiping a finger along the stubble.

Soobin rubbed his chin experimentally. “You're right,” he agreed. “Prickly.”

Beomgyu made his displeasure known by pinching his neck lightly.

“I just haven't had time lately… I'll shave when we get up.”

“Fine,” he said, resting his chin on Soobin’s shoulder and letting his eyes fall closed. “When are your parents coming?”

“They're supposed to arrive at two.”

“And what time is it now?” he asked with a yawn, already thinking of sleeping some more.

Soobin checked his phone. “Oh, shit.”

“...It's one, isn't it?”

Soobin did in fact manage to shave before his parents arrived. Beomgyu did not get his extra sleep, but alas. He had to look presentable for his boyfriend’s parents.

Fortunately, the parents had offered to bring over food, blessing them with home-cooked Korean food. It was enough to last them a week of meals, frankly.

Beomgyu had met Soobin’s parents several times before. They were distantly friendly, unwaveringly polite but always a little wary of Beomgyu. Well, he supposed it could be much worse, considering the whole gay thing. Wasn't really what Soobin’s parents pictured for their precious son’s future. It was okay. They'd come a long way. No more jabs poorly disguised as jokes about how young people were always trying to rebel against society.

Soobin did his best to keep the awkwardness to a minimum, but he was already fighting quite a battle to keep his own sanity intact, so Beomgyu understood. And they made do: when a slightly out-of-touch remark landed, they would surreptitiously exchange a glance. Nothing said, not even a funny face. But they took comfort in knowing that they were thinking the same thing.

With that said, after an afternoon of tea and stilted conversation, Beomgyu made an excuse of running to the convenience store for milk. No one called him out for the flimsy reason. Soobin just shot him a worried look, to which Beomgyu smiled wryly.

It was a relief to be outside. It was sunny and not so cold – not Christmas-like at all. But he was free from the stuffy apartment finally. There weren't many people out and about. It was just him, squinting at the afternoon sun.

He went into the convenience store after several moments of hard-earned peace and immediately was thrown into chaos again.

“Oh, hey, Merry Christmas.”

It was Yeonjun, bundled up in his winter clothes, with a family-size bag of chips in his arm. It seemed statistically implausible to be running into him when there were literally millions of strangers he could be seeing. Then again, he and Yeonjun were always on the winning side of spontaneity.

“Merry Christmas,” he said awkwardly. The dream, fuck. He'd changed quite a bit since then, as he'd noticed from their first meeting, but the contrast was fresh in his mind now.

There was some age to his skin, the way his cheeks clung to his face. His features had settled in, the way a leather jacket might be worn into sturdy softness. Beomgyu’d always teased him about being old, but it was all the funnier because his style, mannerisms, and personality were all so distinctly young. 

Back then, there had been a certain energy to how he carried himself, a spunk to his walk. There was a hunger in his eyes, the urge to prove himself, the fear of losing out. Yeonjun was a proud person, but Beomgyu knew him better than most. Thought he did, at least.

Was it just going to be like this? Haunted by memories of the past every time he saw him?

Yeonjun reached for a bag of gummy worms. “I like these.”

“Sour, right.” 

“Right.”

Beomgyu’s phone buzzed in his pocket, a welcome diversion from the nothingness that was occurring. 

“Baby, can you get a beer while you're down there? I forgot I gave my last two bottles to Arin during the move. And I need a beer, badly.”

“Yeah, of course. Asahi?”

“If they have it. Thank you. Take your time down there though, I know it's a lot.”

He could practically hear the grimace he was making. He smiled a little, but upon sensing Yeonjun watching him, and recalling their makeshift agreement from the night before, he jumped. “I ran into Yeonjun at the store,” he blurted out. “Thought I should tell you.”

Yeonjun tried to hide it, but he looked confused and embarrassed.

“Sorry,” Beomgyu mouthed to him silently.

Following an extended pause, Soobin replied, “That so?”

“Yeah.”

“You should invite him to our thing. The party.”

Surprised, Beomgyu raked his hand through his bangs. It was unlike Soobin to make these impulsive proposals. Especially when it concerned people outside of his inner circle. 

Maybe he wanted to prove that he wasn't the “jealous boyfriend.” It seemed like that might've been bothering him. But to invite Yeonjun, his ex, to a New Year’s-slash-house warming party… to celebrate moving in with his new boyfriend? That seemed a little extreme.

“You don't have to…” he said cautiously. 

“No,” Soobin responded firmly. “I want to meet him. You're friends. I want to meet your friends.”

“Okay,” he said. “I will, then. Uh. Love you.”

“Thanks,” said Soobin. “Come back soon.” He thought he heard a harsh sigh crackle across the call before it was disconnected.

Yeonjun was making a weird face, half false smile and half frown. “The boyfriend?”

He nodded. “Actually, um, this is kind of strange so feel free to decline, but he wanted to know if you'd like to come to a little party we're throwing in two weeks. It's pretty low-key. A little housewarming thing.”

Bewildered, Yeonjun chuckled awkwardly, “Oh, wow. Um. Wow. Wasn't expecting that.” 

“He wants to meet you,” Beomgyu explained, feeling humiliated for some reason.

“Really,” he said, with an unreadable expression. “Well, sure, then. I'd love to meet him too. Send me the details later.”

Soon after Yeonjun left in a hurry, and Beomgyu traipsed back home with two beers. No one commented on how he hadn't even bought milk. Still, he was dismayed for the rest of the day at the thought of the two meeting. 

Beomgyu’s Christmas passed like this, flitting from worry to dread to apprehension, until Soobin’s parents had left and the two of them exchanged gifts. They never put too much money or thought into Christmas gifts because they gave each other things year-round, but it was the sentiment. Beomgyu gave Soobin a navy blue cardigan and a Bluetooth speaker. Soobin gave Beomgyu a thin silver bracelet. Then they gave each other an hour of slow, indulgent kisses before falling asleep. 

Soobin’s two empty beer bottles were still sitting on the floor by the mattress in the morning. Well, one of them was sitting upright. The other had been knocked down at some point overnight, and was lying listlessly on its side.

The 6:30 AM sunlight, thin and blue, trickled through the brown bottle glass as Beomgyu stole away to get to work.

***

my love kang taehyun <3
Tell beomgyu

 

me
tell me what

 

my love kang taehyun <3
Hyuka hooked up with a guy yesterday 

 

my love huening kai <3
this is so embarrassing !:!,!??(!;!

 

me
SLUT ERA KAI 🗣️🗣️
wait why is it embarrassing
i have sex with men too
and taehyun
well
idk what taehyun does tbh

 

my love kang taehyun <3
I'm very healthy and normal

 

my love huening kai <3
u have someone over every other week
and dump them when they catch feelings for u (^-^;

 

my love kang taehyun <3
Healthy and normal

 

me
so going back to kai

 

my love huening kai <3
not gonna let it go huh …

 

me
nope

 

my love huening kai <3
okay fine
it was just some guy off grindr

 

me
you went straight to GRINDR???

 

my love huening kai <3
i thought that was normal?! 

 

my love kang taehyun <3
It's normal but not very like you

 

my love huening kai <3
but but but beomgyu had grindr in undergrad ;^;

 

me
we r not the same
and i have mixed feelings about grindr
if i know you i dont think ur going to find what u want off of grindr

 

my love huening kai <3
you met yeonjun through grindr though right?

 

my love kang taehyun <3
K.O.

 

me
…he's not representative of most grindr men ill tell u that
well actually?
hm nvm
tell me about the hookup
did you have a good time?

 

my love huening kai <3
it was okay ^^

 

me
girl what does that mean

 

my love huening kai <3
it was a positive experience, but i don't know if id do it again given the chance?

 

me
i see………….

 

my love kang taehyun <3
Wait what are you looking for

 

my love huening kai <3
idk like…. human connection ☆ 

 

my love kang taehyun <3
What kind

 

my love huening kai <3
the best part of the whole thing was cuddling afterwards
i think i want to be cuddled
maybe that's it actually

 

me
honestly so fair
i get that

 

my love kang taehyun <3
Do you need to be on Grindr to cuddle with someone??

 

my love huening kai <3
i don't necessarily need to
but it works right

 

me
i can cuddle you all you want 😘😘😘

 

my love huening kai <3
… mhm

 

me
you don't want my cuddles?!
i'll give them to taehyun instead

 

my love kang taehyun <3
Sure I'll take them

 

my love huening kai <3
no wait those r mine…!!! give them back!!
ooh wait
any yeonjun updates? ( ´∀｀)

 

me
oh you're not going to believe this

 

my love kang taehyun <3
Uh oh

 

me
yk the new years/housewarming party we're hosting in january

 

my love huening kai <3
YOU INVITED HIM?!

 

me
no get this
soobin did

 

my love huening kai <3
oh my god

 

my love kang taehyun <3
???????

 

my love huening kai <3 
but why on earth????

 

me
idk but yeonjun agreed to come so that's happening

 

my love huening kai <3
oh i'm so ready for this
but also terrified

 

me
just terrified for me personally but at least you guys will be there

 

my love kang taehyun <3
We're here for you Beomgyu 
We always are

***

JANUARY

Beomgyu slipped into post-Christmas life with a full, but anxious, heart. He felt like something bubbling on the stove, hot and just teeming over the edge.

He’d resumed going back to his own place after work. Soobin was busy studying. And Beomgyu himself was busy packing. His nightly routine involved chatting with his soon-to-be ex roommates and watching Netflix as he funneled belongings into boxes. 

He and Soobin were long due for picking out some more furniture, but at this point it was so close to his move-in that he'd rather just get it over with, and shop afterwards. They couldn't fit much into the tiny studio apartment, anyway. It would just have to be the bare essentials, like a sofa. And maybe a table would be nice. They'd been eating at the kitchen counter (on the important occasions) and on the mattress (the rest of the time, which was to say most of the time). At least a coffee table would be an improvement.

Once, Soobin had come over to lurk while Beomgyu packed. He was really supposed to be studying, he'd bemoaned, but would sacrifice his precious time to keep Beomgyu company. 

His company was really just him lounging on Beomgyu’s bed with a book held over his face, which meant he was definitely not reading, because he was blocking all the light with the book itself.

After some minutes of this farce, Beomgyu put down the clothes he was folding and asked, “What are you pretending to read, anyway?”

“I am reading,” Soobin protested.

“Yeah, right,” he said skeptically.

Soobin rolled over onto his stomach and shut the book with the energy of someone who was waiting for a diversion. “It's Kierkegaard.”

“Bless you.”

“No, that's his name, idiot.”

“Am I supposed to know who this Kee-kuh-kah guy is?”

Soobin flicked him lightly on the head, but he was grinning. “It's Kierkegaard. He's a philosopher.”

Beomgyu looked up at him with flat eyes. “Thanks, that was helpful.”

“He's pretty interesting. In this one, there's two characters who write their own parts. One of them is depressed and all over the place, and the other tells him to get over it and live a meaningful life.”

“That does not sound interesting.”

Soobin made to flick him again but Beomgyu dodged. “The first character, he's called A. He’s kind of self-absorbed and lives life from sensation to sensation, whatever tickles his fancy in the moment. Then he ends up feeling emptier and more depressed than ever.”

“Oh, I kinda get this guy.”

“The second character, B, claims to be very upright – he’s married, he's a devout Christian – and tells A that he has to make commitments to be a human with an identity.”

Beomgyu made a face expressing his displeasure.

“I mean, he has a point,” Soobin defended. “The choices we make are what define who we are. In a way, you choose who you are.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he said. “But I don't get why this B fellow is telling A what to do. It's A’s choice, isn't it?”

“But A is equivocating to the point of denying that a choice even exists.”

Beomgyu wrinkled his nose. “I don't know what you're talking about because I haven't read it, but my point is that life isn't something you can just learn about from someone telling you what to do. You have to come to that choice yourself.”

“That's fair,” Soobin had acknowledged. “You should be a philosopher.”

Now that Beomgyu was recalling this, he mulled over what he'd said. His hands mindlessly twisted his clean socks into bulbs. 

You have to come to that choice yourself, he'd said. In the moment, he had just been saying whatever came to mind, for the sake of parrying with Soobin. 

But he thought of how he'd suppressed his passion for music, and how he'd put off the shadowing opportunity for a long time, and how he'd avoided directly answering Yeonjun on really anything, and how he maybe wasn’t choosing himself after all.

Well, he'd ended up choosing, hadn't he? He made the choice to take the opportunity. He made the choice to see Yeonjun. 

If he, Beomgyu, was the product of his choices, what would he be? Who was he?

His phone vibrated aggressively. Oh, his head hurt – a hand flew to his temple as he picked up the call.

“Beoms, what are you doing?”

“Packing the last of my clothes. Why? What are you doing?”

Soobin hummed. “I am taking a break.”

“Your breaks are longer than the time you spend working,” he joked.

“Maybe.”

They fell into silence as Beomgyu put the phone on speaker and continued folding clothes.

“I want hot chocolate,” Soobin suddenly said.

“Mm, that sounds good,” he agreed. “I want cookies.”

“What kind of cookies?”

“Sugar cookies.”

“Booooring.”

“Oh, I want thumbprint cookies. The ones with strawberry jam.”

“Oh, hm, that does sound good.”

“Hey, did you ever finish reading that philosophy book? Kah-kee-kah?”

“Kafka?”

“No, that doesn't sound right…”

From Soobin’s end, there was some rustling. “Kierkegaard, then.”

“Sounds about right?”

“Why do you ask?”

Because I'm having an existential crisis. 

“Because you never finish your books.”

He could nearly hear the intake of breath before Soobin launched into a rapid fire explanation he'd heard many, many times.

Beomgyu interrupted the long, unraveling rant, which he was pretty sure was only sustained that long because Soobin wanted to annoy him. “Do you have any big regrets?”

Soobin stopped mid-sentence and fell silent.

The thing he liked about Soobin was that whenever Beomgyu asked him a random, meaningless question, he actually thought about it. Most people would just wave it off as a joke. Even if they didn't mean to, they would get distracted quickly and move on. But Soobin always gave Beomgyu all of himself.

“I used to regret not meeting you sooner,” Soobin said slowly. “I'd known vaguely of you ever since you moved in. Didn't know much, but I potentially could have met you way earlier.”

“Only a few months,” Beomgyu countered, though truthfully he was quite touched that this was the regret Soobin chose to bring up.

“Yeah, well, a lot can happen in a few months.”

Beomgyu knew this all too well.

Soobin continued. “But it's not something I really consider a regret, now. I don't really regret much. I mean, little things, sure. I regret eating the sandwich I was supposed to save for tomorrow’s lunch. I regret buying shit quality clothes online. But…”

Beomgyu waited for him to resume. When more than a few seconds had elapsed, he prompted, “But?” 

“But big things that have to do with people, important times, experiences… They happen for a reason in that time, in that place. Actually, they wouldn't even be able to exist in the same way if things changed ever so slightly.”

“Back To The Future,” supplied Beomgyu, remembering the time they watched the film together.

“Yeah, like that. But also…”

And again he trailed off, and again Beomgyu prompted him to continue.

“They're important memories to me. And I'm pretty happy with the life I'm living now.”

Beomgyu smiled in spite of the conflicting thoughts that swirled in his mind. “That's great,” he said softly. “And I get it. I… I want to believe that there's a higher power out there somewhere, whether it's God or Fate or simply the Universe. That we can trust to let things exist and come together.”

“I don't know if it's exactly that,” Soobin said cautiously. “Maybe it's just humanity, as a whole. Maybe it's us, who are able to make things happen out of what we have.”

“Maybe it is,” he said, though he wasn't entirely sure if he knew what he was agreeing with.

The line went quiet for a moment. Beomgyu, task forgotten, was laying spread out on the bed, staring at a tiny hole in the tip of his sock, right where his big toe fit snugly. He had fallen onto a pile of just-laundered clothes, still slightly warm and smelling of powdery soap. 

“When I first fell in love with you, my friends asked me, what do you like about Beomgyu? And I didn't really know how to answer.”

Normally, Beomgyu would insert a snarky comment here, but the sheer vulnerability in his voice made him stop. So he just listened.

“Obviously, you're beautiful and fun and nice. That goes without saying. But there are a lot of beautiful and fun and nice people. Why did I fall in love with you, specifically?

“I thought about this a lot. Part of it is just circumstance and luck, I guess. But another part is just you. You're so human, Beomgyu. I loved you on the day you knocked over your monitor screaming at League. I loved you on the day you cried over the bracelet that your mom made you snapping. I loved you on the day you told me you thought life was so beautiful, the laughter, the tears, all of it. And I love you still every time you ask me something that's been on your mind, every time you stop to stare a little longer at the window or a passing stranger. God, Beomgyu. You live with so much love. You live like all of humanity is captured within you. I love that about you.”

Soobin broke into lyrical monologue now and then, especially if he'd been reading. Beomgyu had always thought that it was just a quirk of his speech or thinking. Sometimes, once he started talking, he was compelled to ramble for minutes straight, with scarcely any time to breathe, before allowing someone else to speak. 

Really, Beomgyu had no idea what Soobin was talking about because if one of them was to be more human, more instilled with love, it would be Soobin.

“I… I’m really happy you think that, don't get me wrong. But you do the same things, too. I mean, you're always screaming with me playing games. You cry when you're overwhelmed, when you can’t bottle it up anymore. And, and, you take care of me, you're always looking out for me and your friends and your family. You cook recklessly. You break out into girl group dances on a whim. You read a whole lot, and you fall asleep on your books a whole lot. You–”

“Okay, okay, I got it,” Soobin interrupted, with a suspicious sniff that crackled over the phone. 

Beomgyu could imagine him, sitting at his desk, with red rimming his eyes. It came out particularly when he was exhausted and on the verge of crying. 

“Don't cry,” he said, his own eyes tingling. It was tough. Things had been tough lately.

Not much sleep, for his standards. Soobin on edge with his exam coming up. Certain concerns of the existential variety. Whatever was happening with him, Soobin, and Yeonjun. The move-in. And the subsequent party.

He really wanted to be held by Soobin in that very moment.

“I miss you,” Beomgyu told him.

A muffled sniff. “I saw you yesterday.”

“Only for a few minutes.”

“Thirty.”

“Not enough.”

Soobin laughed, albeit still sounding clogged up from his quietly shed tears. “I can drop by tomorrow night.”

“I don't want to take away from your studying, though.”

“You aren't.”

It was that simple, he supposed.

“Then I'll be waiting for you.”

“Good. Wait for me just a little longer.”

Beomgyu could do that.

***

Leaving behind the apartment he'd lived in for the past two to three years was not as heart-rending as he'd expected.

Of course, he would miss running into his roommates and spontaneously playing a game or going to a restaurant with them, but it wasn't exactly devastating. He'd miss their fancy fridge and the room for a full living space. It was undoubtedly a nice place, with warm memories.

Warm memories, indeed, as the A/C always ran into issues during the summer months.

But the new apartment, too, would one day become a place of memories, and then the next, and the next. And who knew if he'd live from apartment to apartment for the rest of his life, if he'd share with Soobin, if he'd stay in this simultaneously magical and cursed city. None of that mattered. 

Well, no. It mattered, but it didn't swell up and consume his entire life, and so it didn't really matter in the perspective from today. The same way the broken A/C and the expensive fridge mattered, but neither changed his life, nor lingered unpleasantly in his mind. 

The move-in was uneventful; everything was over before lunch. He didn't have many belongings left in the apartment, since he'd been slowly moving boxes over since Soobin had moved in. 

The only real rush was to clean up for the party the next day. Soobin was gone for the whole day, studying at the university library. A good decision. They were pros at distracting one another.

When Soobin returned, Beomgyu had made a creamy pasta, set out on the newly obtained folding table. It was shabby, some flimsy plastic thing off the street, but with some disinfecting and a dollar store tablecloth it was perfectly functional. Elegant, even, with a candle.

“Wish we could buy fresh flowers,” Beomgyu mourned. “And have proper decor.”

Soobin patted his shoulder sympathetically. “We can definitely get some stuff on sale.”

Tossing his head in disdain, he dramatically declared, “I was meant to be a sugar baby. I have high brow tastes, you know.”

“Like your penchant for Victoria’s Secret fragrances?”

“I have upgraded to Versace,” he sniffed.

Soobin leaned over and took a deep whiff. “Smells good.” 

The tip of his nose tickled his shoulder. As Beomgyu squirmed, Soobin redoubled his efforts and dug his nose all the way into his arm, and then placed a firm kiss on his sleeve.

“If this is all because of the perfume, then it's true that money can buy happiness,” Beomgyu concluded. 

If Soobin was in a good mood, maybe he would've said something like “Money can't buy me you.” But he was tired. It was written all over him, in his eyebags, a stray pimple on his chin, an outfit that screamed overworked graduate student. And so the sappy lines would have to wait.

Maybe Beomgyu was reading too much into it. Maybe he was just feeling extra self-conscious in the relationship, what with Yeonjun and all this weirdness in the air. 

“The pasta is delicious,” Soobin said around a mouthful. “Way better than what I could make.”

Beomgyu preened, “Thank you.”

“Are we ordering food for tomorrow?”

“I thought we agreed on the Pad Thai.”

“Sure, whatever you want.”

He bit his lip. “But is that what you want?”

“Yeah, I like Thai.” Soobin looked up, sensing Beomgyu’s hesitation. “I mean, whatever is easiest on you is what I want, but I like Thai food too.”

“But I want whatever makes you the happiest.”

Soobin put his fork down. It was hard to tell if he was frustrated or not. Ironically, when he was in a state of stress, he just looked tired in general, all the time – dark circles, sunken cheeks, sallow skin, the whole vampire gig. Sure, he would make a very sexy vampire. But it was more difficult to know if he was actually fed up, or if it was a permanent case of sullen Edward Cullen.

“Beomgyu.” Uh oh. “I don't… I can't…” He searched for the right words. “I’m not the kind of guy who actually cares what we eat, you know? What I care about is if I get to spend time with you and relax.”

“I know,” Beomgyu said, shrinking. “I just… don't want you to always be catering to what I want.”

“It's not like that, okay?”

“Will you tell me when you want something for yourself?”

Soobin pressed his lips together, which made his cheeks puff out a little. Beomgyu resisted the urge to poke the protruding parts. “I will,” he promised at last.

“Good,” he said, satisfied. “So, Thai?”

“Yeah.”

Beomgyu was waiting at the Thai place, leaning against the wall, to pick up their order. He idly scrolled on his phone, though there was nothing of interest. To his left, a conversation floated in and out until he fully tuned in. 

“I'm not lying! It's literally my hardest class!”

“You're a fucking STEM major.”

“And?”

“And you do crazy neuroscience shit on a daily basis, but you think a gen-ed literature class is harder?”

Beomgyu surreptitiously took a glance. It was a group of three girls, likely a few years into college with how they dressed. They were engaged in a passionate discussion.

“I kind of get it though,” the third voice chimed in, who hadn't yet spoken. “Especially if you're just not used to doing something. It's hard because it's new.”

“Yes, exactly,” the first girl agreed heatedly. “I mean, let me give you an example, okay?”

The others nodded. This first girl was blonde and the tallest of the three. She exuded a commanding aura.

“So there's this character. Weird, slightly creepy, self-absorbed, fucks-everything-up kind of guy.”

“Just your type,” contributed one of them, to be shot a disparaging look.

“He hates his life and everything around him and one day, he invites himself to a little gathering of old classmates – whom he doesn't even like, by the way – and when he gets drunk he starts acting like a fool and mocking them.”

“Literally your ex, girl.”

Beomgyu cracked a smile, which he attempted to stifle, as he was completely invested in eavesdropping now. He hoped they would get to the meat of the conversation before his order was finished.

The storytelling blonde cleared her throat. “Anyway,” she began again, “Everyone leaves and gets a good jab at him so he hates life even more, and then they all go to a brothel for an afterparty. And he follows them out of spite, but loses them, and sleeps with a prostitute there.

“At some point he starts talking and talking to this prostitute, rambling about how one day she'll die a miserable death if she keeps on the way she's going, and she has some kind of emotional epiphany and there's clearly a connection between the two of them. So he gives her his address and tells her to come see him, which she later does, but it's when he's in an anxious rage in all his ugly poverty and he's humiliated and lashes out at her.”

Beomgyu’s phone buzzed, informing him that his order was ready. With some disappointment, he slowly made his way to the counter.

“With all love, can you get to the point?”

Thank you, he thought reverently.

“Fine, fine. Anyway, he has so many chances to do something with his miserable life, and have something real with this girl. She understands him more than maybe anyone ever has, in such a short time. And he's so close to letting her in – but in the end, he pushes her away and chooses to stay the way he is, miserable and suffering. Why?! Why the hell would he do that!”

“That's so tragic,” her friend commented.

“I know, it's tragic and extreme but, like, how do I write a paper on this? It's so unrealistic. Why would you ever stop yourself from being loved… for literally no reason?”

Beomgyu could linger no longer without raising suspicion, so he reluctantly left the restaurant, large paper bag in hand. As he embarked on the fifteen-minute walk back to their – their! – apartment, he lifted his gaze to the cloudy, near-dark, sky.

It was abnormally warm for the first week of January. Pools of slush permeated the pockmarked streets, squelching unpleasantly underfoot. Now and then, a noncommittal wind pierced through his puffer jacket. It was perhaps the most unpleasant kind of winter day: wet, dreary, and unpredictably chilly.

His thoughts wandered back to the story he'd overheard. To be offered a hand of empathy and warmth, and to reject it. Why, indeed? 

Maybe he was scared, he thought. How was he to know that he wouldn't be cruelly betrayed by the mere guise of kindness? Or maybe he was too proud to accept that someone else could be better off than him. Yes, that could be it – a firm belief in one’s own self, absolute and unwavering.

And if it wasn't so? If he really did choose misery in all its pain, knowing how it debased him, and yet still choosing to suffer?

When he kicked off his slush-covered boots at the doorway and dumped the food on the counter, it was half-past five. Soobin was taping up string lights along the walls. His hair looked a mess; Beomgyu guessed that he'd taken a brief nap while he was out. He did have his nice cream sweater and black jeans on, though, so he must've had a chance to change.

“Do you need a hand?” he asked, naturally approaching Soobin, like a moon drawn close in orbit.

Soobin passed him the tape dispenser. “Yeah, can you just give me pieces of tape?”

“Sure.” 

They fell into a rhythm of Beomgyu tearing out perfectly even rectangles of tape, and Soobin slapping them onto the wall over the wire. The room wasn't large to begin with, and the string lights even less so, so they were done in a few quick minutes.

Soobin shook out his hair and ran his hands through the mess several times before looking at Beomgyu despairingly. “It just won't sit right,” he complained.

Beomgyu smoothed his hair down from the center part, but when he lifted his hands and it all sprang back into its previous state, he couldn't help laughing.

“Don't just laugh, do something!” he whined.

“Yes, Princess Soobin,” he said, still snickering. “Let's go wet your hair with the comb.”

The wet comb mitigated the severity of the situation, but did not cure Soobin of his persistent bed head. Alas, the price of a deep nap. 

By the time Kai and Taehyun showed up, a bottle of wine and a tray of dessert in tow, Soobin’s hair had been partially tamed. As Taehyun leaned in for a hug, he whispered into Beomgyu’s ear, “Heeseung and Sunoo aren't coming. Sunoo got called in and Heeseung’s parents roped him into something.”

“Why are you whispering this to me,” Beomgyu hissed back, the hug becoming uncomfortably long at this point.

“‘Cause, you know, that means the only other person coming is your…”

Taehyun extricated himself from the hug finally and shot Beomgyu a little grimace of sympathy.

“Ah. Right.”

“And Soobin already knows,” he added quickly.

“Tyun, the gifts,” called out Kai in reminder.

Taehyun brightened and gestured to a gift bag in Kai’s hands. Various mismatched colors of tissue paper, teal and hot pink and orange, stuck out from the top. The bag itself read “Happy Birt,” with the remainder of the word obscured by a Post-It note. Scrawled on the note in Kai’s handwriting: “Apartment!”

His spirits lifted and heart warmed, Beomgyu melted. “Aw, you guys,” he cooed, opening his arms for a hug. “You didn't have to! And you brought so much already.”

“It's really not a large gift,” Taehyun warned. “More of a gag than anything.”

Turning around from carefully putting their dessert in the fridge, Soobin said, “It means the world to us. Thank you.” 

Though Taehyun and Kai were originally Beomgyu’s friends, they liked Soobin very much. This was very clear in the gooey way they smiled at him at these words.

The sweet moment was then interrupted by a strong knock, and as Soobin moved to open the door, Beomgyu’s blood chilled. There was only one person who it could be.

Yeonjun stepped in with a sheepish smile and a gift box in his hands. Stylish wrapping, with a bold stroke of dark red brushed along the top, and an elegantly inked word of congratulations. A small, tightly wrapped bouquet of flowers rested on top. He was such an adult, Beomgyu thought wryly.

When Beomgyu glanced at Soobin, he was eyeing the bouquet with narrowed eyes, but he quickly lifted his gaze and assumed a neutral expression as he scanned Yeonjun’s figure up and down. Yeonjun appeared to be feigning ignorance to the scrutiny.

Instead, Yeonjun looked to Beomgyu, and the flash of eye contact made him jump. 

“Um, this is Yeonjun, everyone!” he trilled nervously. “Yeonjun, this is Taehyun, Kai, and–”

“Soobin,” he interrupted, extending his hand for a handshake. Interesting. “I'm Soobin. Thanks for coming.”

Yeonjun shook his hand, and Kai and Taehyun stuck out their hands as well, to make things even. Murmurs of “nice to meet you” stirred.

“Well!” Beomgyu said, clapping his hands and immediately regretting doing so. “Now that we're all acquainted, shall we eat?”

To everyone’s credit, though without a doubt they all knew exactly how awkward the situation was, no one acted so. Sure, sometimes Kai’s smile sat a little funny. And once Taehyun excused himself to use the bathroom conveniently during an exceptionally long lull in conversation. But all in all, it was going well.

Surprisingly, Soobin and Yeonjun had plenty in common to talk about, even aside from Beomgyu. Well, maybe Beomgyu had been drawn to both of them because there was some string of similarity… He didn't know, and frankly did not want to dig deeper into that line of thought.

Anyway, if their respective goals had been to not be a crazy boyfriend or ex, then they were each doing a very good job.

Indeed:

“Yeah, once when I was in Tokyo, my wallet fell out of my pocket, and it was raining so hard I didn't notice. Until literally five minutes later, I ran back out to look for it, but it had vanished. I was panicking, ‘cause my hotel key was in there, you know.”

“Fuck, man.”

“Yeah. In the pouring rain and everything. And finally I got desperate and filed it at the nearest police box, and within thirty minutes they told me that someone had already dropped it off at another police box. Like, are you serious? In the span of five minutes?!”

“It's lucky that you found it, in the end.”

“No, for sure. Except, uh… I lost it again later on. But that's a different story.”

Soobin nodded. “What were you doing in Tokyo?”

“That time was for work. I was with my friend’s startup, and we were trying to bag this big collab with a Japanese company… Have you been? To Japan?”

“I went for a conference last summer,” he answered, with a look at Beomgyu.

Beomgyu had tagged along for a few days, using up his weekend and some of his lovingly saved-up PTO. When Soobin wasn't schmoozing with other researchers, they were stumbling into random bars on the street, nibbling on convenience store fried chicken, holding hands at the movie theater, though they couldn't really understand the film at all.

It was a good trip. Sweltering hot, boozy, and quiet. The perfect summer vacation.

Yeonjun caught their shared glance. “Oh, did you go together?”

“Yeah, I tagged along for a bit.”

“Cool, cool.” He smiled. “You always wanted to visit.”

His heart wrenched tight in his chest. “Yeah…” he said, softly. “Yeah, I did. It was great.”

“We were thinking of checking it out this coming summer, too, but the flights are crazy,” Taehyun said.

“It's going to be super crowded this year,” Yeonjun agreed. “I might try to make a brief stop when I go back to Korea this summer.”

“Seeing family?”

“Yup, yeah. About time. They're getting antsy. 'You're getting old! Settle down!’ and all that.”

“So no plans to settle down, then?” Soobin inserted.

All eyes turned to the two of them. Yeonjun made a half-hearted shrug and attempted to laugh it off.

“Not really, no. Got work, and… Well, I don't really have the energy or will to meet anyone new, right now.”

Beomgyu was grateful for his friends resisting the urge to stare at him. And Kai, bless him, interjected with a cheerful comment.

“I totally get that. I finally gave dating apps a shot and I'm already sick of it.”

Yeonjun capitalized on the opportunity with gusto. “Dating apps, God. Did anything happen?”

Kai grimaced. “I met this guy, but it was just a one time thing. Which is fine! I didn't necessarily want anything with him. But…”

“Not exactly the romantic love story of your dreams,” sympathized Yeonjun.

“Nah.” Kai squinted at him. “Actually, now that I think about it, he had the exact same cheekbones as you… Do you have any siblings around here?”

“Wow, just because they're Korean?” Taehyun teased.

Kai, flustered, shook both his head and his hands, to wave off the snarky comment. “No! Their bone structure is actually the same.”

Yeonjun laughed – it was a real laugh, Beomgyu noted with relief – and held out his phone, with an Instagram profile pulled up. “This him?”

The four of them squeezed in together to get a good look at the screen. Even Soobin was curious. 

“That sure looks like him,” Kai finally concluded. “Though he abbreviated his name quite a bit on the app.”

“Which app – no, don't answer that. I do not want to know what my cousin is doing in his free time.”

“Your cousin?!”

“Crazy coincidence,” remarked Soobin.

“Small city,” agreed Yeonjun.

Kai’s cheeks burned shiny red. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up.”

“No, no, no,” Yeonjun quickly said. “It's great. It's hilarious.”

“I feel like Yeonjun always runs into these insane coincidental things,” Beomgyu contributed, in an attempt to reassure Kai. “It's like his trademark at this point.”

“That's me, man of spontaneity,” Yeonjun said jokingly.

Soobin laughed loudly. A little louder than usual – just the slightest bit. Only Beomgyu seemed to notice. But when he turned to Soobin at the noise, he observed rosy patches mottled on his neck, and a slightly glossy sheen to his eyes. 

“How do you do that? Mr. Spontaneous?” Soobin asked, with enough spirit to come off as tipsy and amused.

Yeonjun held up his glass in a mock toast, Gatsby-like. “To the romance of it all – fate, stupidity, and dumb luck!”

“Cheers,” echoed Kai and Taehyun. Even Soobin raised his glass in acknowledgment, and proceeded to down the contents. 

It was a scene of good humor and camaraderie. The five of them sat around a tiny folding table, snacks strewn across the tablecloth. Pink cheeks, big grins, surrounded by the dim string lights they'd hung up just prior. 

But Beomgyu was watching Soobin, and he could tell from the veins in his neck and the tight corners of his smile that something was not quite right. No matter how he pretended.

Yeonjun was the first to depart, as expected. Beomgyu walked him downstairs as the rest of them argued over a game they’d been playing.

As they loped down the stairs, Beomgyu following behind, they were both quiet. Then, when they’d reached the ground floor and exited the lobby into the cold, Yeonjun turned around to face Beomgyu.

It was just like two weeks ago, post-grocery run, when Yeonjun walked him to this very step. But this time, the sun had long set, and nighttime chill stung through the layers of sweaters and coats. 

“You should go in,” Yeonjun told him. “It’s cold – you’re hardly dressed for this temperature.”

“It’s okay,” chattered Beomgyu.

“No, it’s not,” he insisted. But he looked resigned. “I had fun. Thanks for inviting me.”

He looked down. He’d slipped on Soobin’s slides in his haste to accompany Yeonjun out. “It wasn’t my idea. It was Soobin’s.”

“All the same,” he shrugged. “Thanks.”

Beomgyu’s hands, jammed into his coat pockets, fiddled restlessly with the fabric lining the pockets. He wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what to say. There were so many things that he wanted to know: what did Yeonjun think of him, two years out? What did Yeonjun think of them, two years ago? Did he mean it when he said he’d like to be friends? What did he think of Soobin today? Of Kai and Taehyun? Of the apartment, of his outfit, of his tipsy conduct, of the life he’d built in Yeonjun’s absence?

Questions he couldn’t ask – shouldn’t ask. Questions that he would never ask, anyway. No matter how much he wanted to know, in the end, he didn’t. 

The Beomgyu he’d been two years ago might have asked. Cringing, he thought of that memory: Do you love me? he’d asked, weak-limbed and hopeful. He wouldn’t have seen this coming, certainly, the several feet of space keeping the pair of them apart, dimly illuminated by a yellow streetlamp, puddles of meltwater at their feet. No one would’ve – no one could’ve.

Yeonjun wasn’t good at standing the silence. He let out an exhale. Blurted out, “Soobin was really nice. I can see you’re happy with him.”

“I am,” Beomgyu said faintly. He didn’t have to think twice about saying it. Good , he thought. Keep doing that. Don’t overthink it.

“I’d better get go–”

“I was happy with you too,” Beomgyu interrupted. “You probably know this already, but I loved you, I really did. And I’d never regret that. I am so grateful. So, so grateful.”

“Beoms–”

“Give me one minute.” He stared at Yeonjun pleadingly. He needed this.

If the Beomgyu of two years ago wouldn’t have seen this, wouldn’t have known what was to come, then it was up to him, wasn’t it? The Beomgyu who was seeing it now.

Yeonjun gave a stiff nod.

“We had something good. Maybe we could still have something good. You’re doing great, obviously. Honestly, I’m a little envious. But maybe you knew that. I always looked up to you. I didn’t fight to stay  because I was hurt, of course, but I was also just terrified that you would always be a step ahead, pulling me along.”

Inside his pockets, he bunched his hands into fists, like it could contain the emotions spilling out.

“I wanted to say this. I’ll always treasure the time we had together. I’ll always think about it. Hell, I’ll probably always have dreams about it. Even this moment. But I want to say this clearly. I don’t want to be stuck in the past anymore. I don’t know how ready I am to be friends without constantly recollecting the past. Hyung, I,” and he was starting to speak so fast he had to pause for breath, “I seriously don’t know what I’m doing, at all. And I don’t know if I ever will. I’ll probably never make a choice and think, yeah, that was 100% the right choice. But all I can do is choose, right? All I can do… Is to say, let’s stay on good terms, but not see each other. Let’s live our own lives.” 

He released his fists. Yeonjun stood before him, transfixed.

“You have changed,” he said slowly, finally. “You’ve grown up.”

Beomgyu fidgeted.

“You’re something special, Beomgyu. So alive, and, and… Well, you’re right, of course. I won’t go out of my way to be in your life. You’re doing just wonderfully on your own.” Finishing his thought, he toed at the curb a little with the tip of his boot. “Thanks for being honest with me. I’d better get going. Good night.”

He let Yeonjun walk away, though more questions than ever prickled at his tongue. 

At the end of the block, Yeonjun turned around, a dark-coated shadow like their first re-encounter in December, and pointed straight at him. From the corner, he called out, “Don’t be a stranger, though!”

Beomgyu managed a smile. “I won’t!”

He was fucking freezing. He lingered not a second longer and hurried inside.

***

The date had been set, Beomgyu’s name was registered in the company’s records, and he had vetoed several ideas for post-shadowing gifts (but hadn't yet decided on an appropriate display of thanks).

Life went on, after all, even after telling your ex-nothing in one tumultuous breath of your crazed love, jealousy, and inferiority complex. Oh, and that you didn't want to really be friends with him. Indeed, life went on, though whenever he recalled that fiasco he wished that life would’ve just stopped then and there. 

Alas, time continued slipping away. Soobin’s exam approached; his mood grew more and more irritable by the day. Beomgyu understood, of course – he knew personally how stress could deform even the most pleasant of personalities, and was already familiar with Soobin’s habits when under stress. He managed by taking over more of the cooking and cleaning, and coddling Soobin whenever he could. Soobin did the same for him when he was in a bad place.

He made some mistakes, sure. Putting the flowers Yeonjun had brought in the center of the table, for example, had elicited a disgruntled eyebrow raise. And nothing more – but that was enough for Beomgyu, and he was very relieved when the leaves started to wilt and he could throw them away justifiably.

Whatever. Tip-toeing around Soobin didn't bother him that much. He was happy to do whatever he could to make it easier for him. Love, after all, wasn't supposed to just come easily. Not that it was supposed to be difficult, but he was just fine with putting in the effort every now and then to show Soobin that he was loved even when things didn't just come easy.

He was trying to be more open with him. He told Soobin all about what he'd told Yeonjun the same night of. He didn't react much other than hugging Beomgyu tight. So maybe that wasn't really communicating, if he was just telling Soobin things one-sidedly, but he resolved to check on it after his exam. Things would be better after his exam, he knew.

Unfortunately he didn't know exactly how long it would take.

“This place is a mess,” Soobin muttered one night, listlessly stripping his clothes off. Each garment, tossed vaguely at the laundry hamper, fell limply on the edge, half-in and half-out.

Beomgyu was sitting upright in bed, cleaning out his photos from his phone. “It's ‘cause you just throw your clothes around.” Google Photos was not cooperating with him; he swore under his breath.

“You do that too.”

“I'm not complaining about it, though.”

Soobin made a face at him. “Did you wear my jacket?”

“Which?”

He held out the jacket by the collar like he was scruffing a kitten. 

“Oh, yeah. Yesterday.”

“You didn't ask.”

Beomgyu scoffed. “Since when have you cared about giving permission?” He immediately regretted taking on the bratty tone and backpedaled. “I mean. Sorry. I didn't know that it would bother you.”

“It doesn't bother me, it's just–” he dug his fingers into his hair and seemed to agonize over what to say. “Fuck,” he settled on.

Very helpful, Soobin.

“I’m just tired,” Soobin finally said after a drawn-out pause, during which Beomgyu pretended to be immersed in deleting his photos. He was just staring at a series of photos from last July, when he was drunk and fuzzy-limbed, lying on the flimsy floor of a tent. Standing above him, Soobin had taken blurry photos of Beomgyu smiling widely. Even he himself thought that his smile in those pictures was angelic, almost – had attained some form of peace, or happy idleness, that was not of this realm. 

At least he couldn't picture himself doing the same now.

“You've been tired,” Beomgyu said, distracted.

“Yeah, well, doesn't look like that'll be changing anytime soon.”

He looked up, put off by Soobin’s tone of voice. “I didn't mean it as a complaint.”

Now in his T-shirt and pajama pants, Soobin crawled into bed beside Beomgyu. With a heavy sigh, like one a dog huffs out before sleep, he bunched up the blanket and let his head loll into its soft mass. Though he was turned away from Beomgyu, his eyes were surely closed.

Beomgyu then heard, softly, “Sorry.”

“Me too,” he said. He didn't really think he was personally in the wrong this one time, but he apologized anyway. A little part of him wished Soobin would say, No, don't apologize, you didn't do anything wrong . Soobin was always a source of comfort for him, after all.

Soobin adjusted his position so his head lay in Beomgyu’s lap, face still out of view. “I don't mean to take it out on you.”

But you do. You are.

Beomgyu didn't even know why his internal dialogue was so vocal – and whiny – on this particular night. Was he really that bothered by a common spat? Why couldn't he endure it longer, better?

Because it always comes back. The first few months were easy. But it'll always come back.

And it would, no matter what he did. He supposed that he could be the best partner in the world and these moments of tension, even conflict, would return. Inevitably, the same things happened. Endlessly, time repeated itself.

“Do you think I'm a bad boyfriend?” Soobin asked, the words pressed into Beomgyu’s blanket-covered thigh.

“What? No,” he said instinctively. “I love you.”

He instantly despised the way the words came out of his mouth. “I love you,” he'd said, with emphasis on love. It was similar to how one would plead to the back of one’s departing lover: Come back, what did I do wrong? He didn't like how desperate it sounded. How he longed for his Soobin, familiar and sweet, bright-eyed and gentle. Whose mouth pinched up cutely when he made a joke, and gleamed coral pink when wetted with his tongue.

Was it all because of that Yeonjun fiasco? Had Beomgyu been wrong, after all, to open up the can of worms?

He was too scared to answer it himself, and Soobin was snoring lightly on his lap despite the ceiling lights still being on, so he simply turned his phone off and closed his eyes in resignation.

With the light still on, casting its dingy white glow, instinct forced his eyelids open repeatedly, keeping sleep tumultuous and always just out of grasp. 

Several days later, Beomgyu returned home after work later than usual. A strangely windy day, leaving his hair tousled and eyes bright and watery.

There was something sick to the air, he felt wildly, as he climbed up the stairs from the subway. The wind was thick, not the sharp, biting kind, but a viscous, onerous resistance that met him at every step. It was difficult to keep walking.

When he let his eyes drag upon the buildings around him, he felt such a numb distaste for it all – the sameness of the facades, the frowns of the passerby, all the same headphones, same lowered eyes. And he knew, too, that he was the same. He felt empty and listless.

He had opened Twitter again and again during the work day, turning off his phone when he felt too disgusted by the shallow monotony of his feed, only to pick it up and refresh in minutes. The news, rage-bait videos, petty arguments… It was all so dystopian and sickening.

By the time he got home, he simply felt drained. Soobin was sitting on the floor, playing TFT on his phone.

Beomgyu deposited his things on the kitchen counter and immediately curled up behind Soobin, resting his cheek on his back. He could just barely feel the contractions of his breaths.

“What’s up,” Soobin asked.

Beomgyu sighed into Soobin’s shirt, the hot air between his lips and the fabric lingering. “Long day.”

“Yeah?” was felt through the rumble of his body. He liked the vibration, but that was all he said.

Well, he was busy playing TFT, he supposed. He could wait until the match finished.

“I was thinking we should buy a lamp,” Beomgyu said after some minutes of silence.

Soobin grunted.

“We could put it over there, at the head of the bed.”

“Sure.”

“But do you think it would look good?”

Soobin finally finished his match and put his phone down. “I don't have much of a flair for interior design.”

“I mean, do you like it, is all. It could be one of those nightstand kind of lamps… You could read in bed…”

“Yeah, that sounds nice.”

Soobin scooted around to pull Beomgyu into him. They melded into a weird little hug, arms entangled but with distance between their bodies, obstructed by their legs. They were getting in the way of themselves, and it was a completely fixable problem, but neither of them moved to rectify it. So they bore the discomfort together.

Then Beomgyu caved: “Do you really think we should get that lamp?” 

“For the last time, yes, whatever you want.”

Okay, fair. He was being annoying with the persistence, sure. But the way he said it – when all he wanted was to make sure it was okay – pissed him off.

“What do you mean, ‘whatever you want’? Do you want it or not?”

Soobin groaned and buried his head in Beomgyu’s upper arm. “I don't care, Beomgyu, you pick.”

“It's a simple question,” he protested. 

“And my answer is that I don't care. You. Pick.”

Beomgyu bristled, just barely stopped himself from bucking Soobin off. “I just don't want you to always be deferring to me? I want us to make decisions together?” His voice was getting pitchy the way it always did when he got worked up.

Audibly annoyed, he shot back, “It's just a stupid lamp, babe.”

They sat up at the same time, disentangling with frustration written clearly on both of their faces. 

Beomgyu made an attempt to speak calmly. “Hyung. You said, the other day, that you'd tell me what you want. You promised. And you always have opinions on the furniture–”

“Well, my opinion is just not that deep, and I don't really care.”

“You're not really engaging with me here.”

“What? What are you talking about?” He let out an explosive sigh, raked his hands through his hair, looking anywhere but at Beomgyu. “Why are we arguing, anyway?”

“It's not just about this lamp thing, it's how you always avoid telling me what you want or what you honestly think, and it feels like you'll just go along with anything I say. When we're choosing food, you make me decide. When we're picking a movie, you tell me to pick. When we're putting on music, you hand it to me. I know you have opinions on these things, hyung. Just tell me what you think – you promised.”

“What is so wrong with it? It's just a simple calculation, Gyu. My opinion doesn't contribute much because I just don't really care. You being happy is more important to me.”

“That's not it though!” he blurted out. “You can just do things to make me happy. You don't have to calculate or whatever to make me happy.”

Everything was wrong, so wrong, totally wrong. He didn't mean to take things this far. He didn't like how Soobin’s face twisted, with a hurt, wry smile.

“Well being spontaneous and romantic doesn't exactly come naturally to me, so sorry for just doing what I can,” he said darkly.

Spontaneous and romantic, again. The sarcastic smile, and the way it didn't reach his eyes, tugged at his memory.

“Is this about Yeonjun,” Beomgyu said faintly, feeling weak.

Soobin’s fake smile dropped suddenly. He looked dead serious for a moment, and then said, very quietly, “I don't know, Beomgyu. You tell me. Is this about him?”

And without turning around once, he stood up and slipped his shoes on and slung his coat over his arm. But as he stepped out the door, Beomgyu saw him raise his arm to his face, and dab his wrist to his eyes.

Nothing made any sense; everything felt so incredibly senseless. The world had tipped over in one day, and yet it kept on spinning, upside down and crooked, but spinning all the same.

Several days passed and neither of them moved to clear the air. They continued living together and somewhat acknowledging each other’s presence, but the conversation ran shallow and their time together was in short bursts. They came home late and left early. 

To be fair, Beomgyu thought dully, when he and Soobin fought, it usually lasted a little while. They were both sensitive people. And they were both, in certain matters, cowards. That was why they rarely even openly fought – few accusatory jabs, no mean comments tossed solely for the sake of hurting the other. They argued, surely, and often, but it often just ended in one of them leaving and keeping some space.

Which meant the stalemate period could last quite some time. Well, four days technically wasn't a long time, but it fucking felt like it, living this stilted semblance of a life. Having Soobin in the same bed as him every night, but never facing him, barely even letting their bodies brush. When usually Soobin was his best friend and his soulmate – the distance was tormenting.

Even so, the days passed somehow and Beomgyu found himself on the subway to the music label Woozi worked with. He had to keep reminding himself that things would be okay, and that it wasn't that serious. The itch to text Soobin for some words of comfort was unbearable.

His messages with Soobin remained untouched, however, and he made it into the company building nervously. Woozi met him at the cafeteria floor, with a neutral expression.

“Hello,” he braved, bowing. “I'm Beomgyu. Choi Beomgyu.”

“Ah, yes,” said Woozi. “I'm Jihoon. Nice to meet you, finally.”

“Thank you for this opportunity, sir. I'm–”

“Sir?” he laughed. “Just call me Jihoon. Anyway, can I get you a coffee? We have,” he checked his watch, “Fifteen minutes before the first meeting of the day.”

There was no way in hell Beomgyu was 

 calling him Jihoon to his face.

“Oh, um, a coffee would be great. Thanks.”

Americano in hand, they sat to chat and debrief the schedule. Though Jihoon looked intimidating, with his broad shoulders and no-nonsense demeanor, he was quite friendly. Maybe he had to be, for work.

Beomgyu had a slightly better sense of how the man operated by lunchtime. In meetings, he was slick and professional, pithy with his words. In more casual settings, he was prone to smiling wordlessly, with shiny pinked cheeks. With Beomgyu, he was the perfect senior: confident, calm, and always slightly out of reach.

“Since the next client hasn't formalized the agreement yet, I'm working on a passion project outside of meetings for the time being,” he explained. The rapid clicks of his mouse pulled up several audio files and his workstation.

“What's the passion project?” 

Jihoon made a grimace. “You'll hear.”

The first audio file was a voice recording. An unfamiliar voice filtered out of the speakers.

“Ahh- ah. Ahh. Is this thing recording?” Some rustling. “Okay. I think it's working. Five, six, seven, eight, bah-bah-bah-bah bahh-bah bah!” He repeated this line several times. “So the pre-chorus is just like that, and then it goes–”

A series of contorted vocalizations that could be interpreted as mimicking a beat drop followed. It continued for about twenty seconds before the recording cut off abruptly. Then Beomgyu was left staring speechlessly for several prolonged moments.

Jihoon swiveled his chair around to look expectantly at him.

“Sounds innovative,” he managed weakly.

He barked out a laugh. “Yeah. It's rough.” Rapid clicking, and then a new track began playing. “This is what I did with it.”

It was a polished adaptation of the crude voice recording from before, sparsely instrumented but rhythmically true to its predecessor. When prompted for his thoughts this time, he could actually answer. “I like how it developed the material without altering its identity.”

“And what do you think that identity is?”

“The energy is very punchy, powerful at the start but quick to withdraw, which makes it feel bright. Though I think there's a kind of brashness to it, like a self-assertion? Like, ‘This is me, and I'm not sorry.’”

“Oh, very interesting.”

Beomgyu faltered. “Is that…”

“No, no, I like it, I like it. I know your thing is more, like, singer-songwriter. You read into the sound like you're examining someone’s soul.”

He didn't know if it was a compliment or not, but he was flattered nonetheless. His cheeks felt warm.

“Anyway, the recording you heard before was my good friend. He'll be coming in soon. The goal for today is to topline over this track that I just played. You can chip in however you like, whatever you feel comfortable doing.” Jihoon looked over at Beomgyu, who was visibly stiff with nerves, apprehensively biting at the inside of his mouth. “Don't worry, he knows you're here. And he's a nice–” Jihoon twisted his face “--guy. I'm sure you'll like him.”

Soonyoung, Jihoon’s friend, was indeed a nice guy. He’d entered the room with a bounce and a grin, immediately dapped a dazed Beomgyu up, and introduced himself. He perfectly matched the song that Jihoon was producing with him. He had platinum blonde streaks in his hair.

He was clearly very comfortable in the space, throwing himself into the couch and stretching his arms out behind his head. Beomgyu found himself envying that loping gait and relaxed posture. Even if it was partially just a performance, he made it look so easy.

And then when the questions started, it was even worse. Soonyoung asked all sorts of questions, from the name of the instrument Jihoon was using on the track to Jihoon’s opinion on so-and-so choreography. Jihoon was obviously used to this, and responded with just enough information to get by, but now and then the corner of his mouth quirked up, and he looked very amused. 

The part that really stung was when Soonyoung made suggestions for the song itself, regarding the rhythms, the melody. Jihoon vetoed an idea more than once, but there were moments too when he lit up, scrabbled to implement the change, and sat back with satisfaction on playback. They were a well-oiled team, truly understood each other, things said and unsaid. They could push and pull until they reached something just right.

Obviously Beomgyu, observing this partnership, was impressed and entertained. But he kept trying to think of what he could contribute himself, some clever idea, some insightful comment. Nothing stuck. Fragments of thoughts, unimpactful and unoriginal, dilly-dallied in his brain. He couldn't even think of a good question to ask.

Some forty minutes of this, the pair of them bouncing ideas back and forth and Beomgyu racking his brains for something valuable to say, passed. As they found themselves in a rut, Jihoon called a ten minute break, and promptly left the room.

Soonyoung sighed slowly and then turned to Beomgyu. “So what d’ya think?”

“Oh, it's good… I like it.”

He mentally smacked himself for the useless remark.

“That so?” Soonyoung scratched his chin and spun around in his chair several times before coming to a stop. “Hey, can I ask you something? Do you believe in true love?”

Taken aback, Beomgyu hesitated.

Did he? In a way, yes. Love was real, love was all there ever was. Love was in everything, and love was the only way to survive. 

But what even was “true” love?

“What do you mean by true love? Like, real love? Or like predestined love?”

“Like the whole ‘love conquers all’ thing.”

Beomgyu thought about that for a moment.

Conquers all? What did love have to conquer, anyway? Why would love ever have to defeat something else, when love was simply that: in its purest form, simply love. 

Well, it was silly of him to think such lofty thoughts when he could hardly imagine himself ever vocalizing them, let alone acting on them.

“I guess I am that kind of person,” he settled on. “A romantic, right?”

Soonyoung hummed, long and drawn out, as he continued swiveling in circles. Each rotation made his voice go thin and thick with the momentum, like the buzz of summer cicadas.

The sudden stop of his chair apparently denoted the end of his pondering. “You want ice cream?”

“Oh, I,” he stammered, taken aback. “Sure.”

Soonyoung grinned, and though he knew it was silly, Beomgyu felt a flare of happiness at having answered correctly.

“Let's go. It's the vending machine in the basement.”

Shitty overpriced ice cream bars in hand, sitting in the stairwell, Soonyoung resumed their previous topic. His voice bounced off the concrete walls and stairs, amplifying his words.

“When I was 21, I fell in love with my best friend. I'd never thought about it before. I kinda assumed I'd eventually settle down with someone, but I wasn't looking for anything. It just happened all of a sudden.”

Beomgyu listened attentively, lapping at his ice cream and feeling like an enraptured child.

“At first I didn't know what the hell to do with my feelings. It was a struggle.” He smiled wryly at the resurgence of unspoken memories. “But then I came to embrace it. I thought I was so lucky to have woken up in love with him one day. I became what you would call a romantic. I thought about him all day, and loved that. I gave him everything I had, and loved that. I dreamed about waking up to him in the mornings and hugging him so tightly he would never leave. I was so in love.”

“And now?” he prompted softly.

Soonyoung paused. A melted drop of his ice cream trickled down his finger and the two of them watched it splatter on the ground. It landed right next to Soonyoung’s shoe, a bright yellow Adidas sneaker.

“And still I love him,” he concluded. “Although he may never feel the same way about me. I'll still think about him all day and give him everything I have. I'll still love him like a madman. I don't know why. It's kind of insanity, right?”

“Doing the same thing and expecting the result to change,” murmured Beomgyu, drawing upon the classic quote. 

A splat sounded as another drop fell. “Yeah. That.”

“I don't think it's that crazy, though,” Beomgyu said. “Well, maybe it's crazy in one sense, but that's love, isn't it? It never really makes sense. You fall in love with people you're not meant to. It's absurd, but you'll still love them until one day that love just also disappears. And that doesn't really make any sense either.”

With a drop of his head, “I wonder if I'll wake up one day and these feelings are all just gone,” Soonyoung mused.

He sighed and watched his ice cream melt. 

“Maybe,” Beomgyu agreed. He still couldn't think of something insightful to share.

Then suddenly in one fluid motion, smooth and controlled as expected of a dancer, Soonyoung swooped in on all of the ice cream clinging to the wooden stick. His mouth enclosed the entire mass, and he tugged it off the stick, somewhat bird-like. With a resolute swallow, he stood up.

“Break’s probably over. Let's head back.”

At about 5 PM, Beomgyu packed up his sparse things and gave his thanks to Jihoon and the others who had joined them mid-day. He was about to go down to the ground floor when he realized he only knew where this floor’s restroom was, so he pivoted and went into the men’s room.

Cramped little bathroom, with three stalls and a low ceiling. He’d been in here once earlier before lunch. The toilet paper dispensers were in an uncomfortably weird position. He was finishing his business and about to contort his arms for toilet paper when he heard the door swing open. He froze as familiar voices came in.

“It’s only five, but damn, I’m beat.”

“I know. And we barely did anything today.”

“We had that intern, or whatever he was doing.”

Oh. That was him. He slowly withdrew his feet so as to be less visible.

A chuckle, the sound of the faucet running. “Did you even talk to him once?”

“No, but… Well, did you?”

“Yeah, I did. Before you guys all came.”

“And? What’s he like?”

Beomgyu waited anxiously. The faucet was twisted to a close.

“He’s sweet, but you know… Quiet. Couldn’t get a good read.”

The other guy laughed in a way that grated on Beomgyu’s nerves. “Yeah. Quiet.”

“I mean, he’s nice, don’t get me wrong. Cute kid. Okay, he’s gotta be, like, at least twenty-two. He was following Jihoon around with these big eyes, not a peep until directly asked a question.”

“Cute as he may be, that will unfortunately not get him anywhere,” he sighed. “Whatever. Do you remember when Bumzu gets back? Is it tomorrow?” 

Beomgyu lowered his gaze to the floor and watched two pairs of feet walk past his stall and out of the bathroom. His heart sank as he registered a pair of bright yellow sneakers, confirming his fears. 

The first guy, the slightly rude one, didn’t matter much to Beomgyu. Even though he was a jerk, jerks still had to be employed, he supposed. But Soonyoung, that one hurt a little. Why, he couldn’t even say. All he’d said was that he was quiet, sweet, kid-like. Nothing objectively wrong there, or even anything remotely inflammatory. 

But, he thought uncomfortably as he washed his hands, the fact that it was all true, perfectly neutrally true, stung his pride. Even worse, when he made eye contact with his reflection in the mirror, he simply felt embarrassed. He had this big chance, one he’d pondered over for ages, and just totally let it go to waste. What had he done all day, other than – indeed – following Jihoon around helplessly, half awed and half terrified? 

The tile in the bathroom was so ugly. Mucus green. Beomgyu fixed a few strands of his hair back into place and left the building, feeling completely and thoroughly humiliated. What had he been thinking, that some musical genius would just jump out upon entering a music company? Like he’d made it already, landing this opportunity? 

Newly upset, he decided to forgo the subway and walk the whole 35 minutes back. He tried to soothe the bubbling dissatisfaction in his chest with thoughts of picking up dinner from a restaurant. His mood soured further when he texted Soobin to tell him not to cook. Great. He felt like a failure and his relationship was withering away. He wasn’t proud of it, but the thought did crop up, however briefly: what was the point of pushing Yeonjun away if things were going to turn out like this? But he was immediately ashamed and pretended the idea never occurred.

Although Jihoon was the one he had been shadowing, he kept going back to Soonyoung. The wistful look in his eyes as he’d talked about his love. Insanity, he’d called it. He kept picturing the moment Soonyoung had let his head fall, blonde bangs fluttering to cover his eyes, and wondered if he’d someday wake up with his love gone for good.

But it was so obvious to him. Soonyoung still loved that friend. Soonyoung chose to love that friend, with some shy pride. He would only ever stop loving that friend when he chose to stop. Beomgyu could see that much. He was thinking of Soobin’s silly philosophy book, and even that chance encounter at the Thai place. The neurology major despairing over a literature paper. These mysterious choices, to choose to do and to choose to not do, and to choose to say, “To hell with it!” and walk away from the ashes.

He was feeling quite numb by the time he got his brown paper bag of two burrito bowls. He couldn’t pinpoint what would make him feel better, but he was letting his gaze linger on stubby tree branches and construction beams, and how the nearly set sun hung around these hard edges, perfectly gray through winter cloud. When the light had fully slinked away, he directed his restless eyes to building windows. Then he stopped walking. Someone narrowly avoided walking into him and cursed under their breath. He scuttled to the inner side of the sidewalk, closer to the window, and stared hungrily.

A stupid, plump little porcelain chicken stared back at him.  

He couldn’t make the exact logical connection however hard his brain whirred, but he dimly recalled Soobin joking that he’d come to an earth-shattering realization staring at this very chicken. It was so absurd, so very absurd, but then again so was so much. Kai’s first hookup being Yeonjun’s cousin; he and Soobin fighting over a ridiculous non-existent lamp; Soonyoung’s ceaseless love. What was the sense in any of it all? None of it had a reason, a real reason, but it happened. None of it could be explained, really explained, but things went on. In the morning, Soonyoung would once again choose to love. That was the sense that he made. It wasn’t that he woke up one day and was or wasn’t in love; he loved him over and over again because he chose to, and maybe it was a little insane, but it was his choice, and that made all the difference, and suddenly Beomgyu felt close to tears, for whatever reason. He knew just how pathetic he looked to the passerby, forehead pressed to the freezing window-glass, stinging tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. 

With a surge of energy, he pulled himself away and speed-walked the rest of the way home. Soft rain had begun to fall, cold and tender. He let the rain dampen his hair and coat.

Stepping into the apartment, he was about to go directly to Soobin and embrace him, wet clothes and all, but he stopped in his tracks. There was a tray of unbaked cookies sitting on the counter, a jar of strawberry jam to the side. The oven was set to pre-bake. Thumbprint cookies, maybe. He couldn’t help the smile that bloomed – relieved, happy, touched. A little sad, a lot overwhelmed. 

And very cold from the rain. He left the takeout bag on the counter, hurried to the bathroom, and got into the shower.

He’d gotten through almost everything but washing the conditioner out of his hair when there was a knock on the door, and without pause Soobin came into the steam-filled room.

“Can we talk,” was all he said.

Beomgyu already knew what was coming – the cookies were a dead giveaway – so he played coy. “Can it not wait?” he asked, quiet enough that the sound of the shower could plausibly cover it.

Soobin just repeated, “Can we talk?”

“Just say what you have to say.”

Apparently Soobin heard that one, and he immediately launched into apology.

“Beomgyu, I know you already saw the cookies so you also probably know what I’m going to say–” Beomgyu smiled again, hot water running in rivulets down his bunched-up cheeks, “--but I’m going to say it anyway. I have been such a dick for so long, and I know I was out of line in our argument the other day. I guess at first I just wanted to show that I trusted you and wanted you to get your closure, but I started losing it thinking of exactly everything I didn’t have, and everything hurt so bad, even the most harmless things. I wanted to be the perfect boyfriend, but I did the complete opposite and ruined everything...”

At this point, Beomgyu, having heard enough, turned off the water and parted the shower curtain just the slightest bit to reach for Soobin. Wet hands and all, he pulled his surprised Soobin in for a kiss, droplets of water flying onto Soobin’s white shirt. Deep, forceful, and cut short by Beomgyu breaking into a radiant smile, the kiss left Soobin stunned.

“Get the fuck out while I get dressed,” he told him, grinning, with a light push on his shoulder.

“You got my shirt wet,” Soobin complained, but even as he said it, he yanked the curtain open further and scooped Beomgyu in for another slippery kiss.

***

FEBRUARY

“I'm thinking of training for a marathon,” Taehyun said nonchalantly one morning at brunch.

“Like, running? Where you run?” Beomgyu made arm motions like he was running, just to really get the point across. “A marathon?”

“Yes, hyung,” he said patiently.

He didn't know why he was so flabbergasted, but it definitely showed in his expression.

“I'm gonna have a little more control over my time now that I'm changing desks. I wanted to start building towards something tangible.”

“Really…”

“Kai’s doing it too.”

Kai looked a little embarrassed to be exposed on the spot. “Only a half!” he squeaked.

“That's still crazy,” Beomgyu said. “I didn't know you guys were into that.”

“Well, it's always been one of my goals, but I figured it would be more fun to have Kai training too.”

“I was also inspired a bit by you, hyung,” Kai confessed to Beomgyu. 

“Oh?”

He pressed his lips together bashfully and lowered his eyes to his plate of eggs. “I thought it was really cool of you to give music production another shot… So I thought I'd try stepping out of my comfort zone too.”

“Aww, Kai,” he gushed, pinching Kai’s cheek like his height and breadth didn't totally dwarf him. “You're the cutest. And the coolest. Much cooler than me.”

“Yeah,” agreed Taehyun, earning himself a glare from Beomgyu.

Kai, who really was growing into his broad shoulders and sharp jawline, shrank into himself with a healthy blush. Like a tattling little sibling, he squeaked, “Taehyun also played Overwatch with me last night.”

Beomgyu gawked at Kai, and then Taehyun, who merely shrugged. “Are you sure you're not going through a mid-life crisis?” he asked, bemused.

“This can't be a mid-life crisis, we're only in our twenties.”

“Third-life crisis,” suggested Kai. “No, wait. Three times twenty-four is…”

Taehyun supplied, “Seventy-two.”

“Seventy-two. But four times twenty-four is…”

“Ninety-six.”

“Hmm.” Kai pondered for a moment. “Quarter-life crisis, then.”

Beomgyu cracked up at the conclusion. “Quarter-life crisis sounds about right.”

They grinned at each other and continued eating. Some conversation on a classmate’s recent engagement and Taehyun’s latest spurned hookup ensued, and as they chatted Beomgyu let his gaze wander over the warm sunlight streaming through the window. It fell onto their table, orangey and liquid, like the yolks of his half-eaten eggs. Outside, the temperature was gradually lifting, a degree a day. It felt as though spring was sending its feelers out, testing if the fledgling buds were ready to bloom. It was but February, so he knew that the warm spell would ineluctably pass into freezing cold once again.

Seeing Kai and Taehyun’s animated faces, now arguing about a particularly unlucky card draw in Pokémon TCG, Beomgyu thought that he would hold onto spring's first fleeting breaths for as long as he could.

After brunch, Beomgyu sat with Soobin in the park for the afternoon. Soobin brought his laptop to work on whatever graphs he was producing. Beomgyu had some paperwork to catch up on from the day he'd taken off to shadow. They were sharing a pair of earbuds and listening to ABBA, as usual.

They had worked in quiet for about half an hour before Soobin sat back and watched Beomgyu’s tenuous focus.

Without looking up, Beomgyu asked, “Why are you staring at me?”

“Testing your peripheral vision. As always, it’s  in top shape.”

He put down his pen and leveled a flat look. “Are you saying I have no concentration?”

Soobin shrugged with a smug, insuppressible grin. “If the shoe fits.”

Beomgyu frowned and turned away to hide his smile. Then he peeked back at Soobin. His countenance, relaxed and fond, eyes shining, cheeks a little pinked by afternoon sun, was so striking that Beomgyu felt his ears warm. He was inexplicably handsome in his simple college sweatshirt and black-framed glasses, a half smirk lingering on his lips. Beomgyu squirmed into a more proper sitting position and faced Soobin, his smile twisted into something more bashful.

“We should do this more often,” he said, gesturing to their tiny park table, laden with work things. “It's really nice.”

Soobin reached for Beomgyu's gesturing hand, placed it on the table surface, and enclosed it loosely in his own larger one. “I agree wholeheartedly.”

“I guess it depends on the weather, though.”

“We can sit out here in our puffers if that's what you want.”

He was about to shoot back some snarky rejection but paused. Soobin was probably just joking, sure, but when he pictured the two of them sitting out here, butts frozen to the metal chairs, he started imagining cups of hot coffee in their hands, Soobin messing with his thick beanie, stuffing their free hands into Soobin’s large coat pocket. And the string lights would be up, and maybe they wouldn't be able to get any work done, but it wasn't like they were particularly productive now, either. 

Under the table, Beomgyu hooked his ankle around Soobin’s. “I do want that.”

Soobin’s face lit up. Beomgyu could tell, joking or not, that he liked the idea too. 

“Then we’ll do it.”

They smiled at one another in their shared happiness for some moments. Beomgyu took in the slight breeze, ruffling their hair to one side, and the patches of sunlight on his shoulders and lap, warming what would otherwise be slightly chilly. When he breathed in, he could smell the delicious grease of a nearby food truck, and if he lifted Soobin’s hand, still lightly grasping his own, to his nose, faint notes of his cologne could be distinguished. He paused Spotify on his phone, and after a second of hesitation, opened a new voice note.

“I think,” he said deliberately, “if this were a scene in a movie, a song like this would play…”

***

EPILOGUE

“Did you get the wine?”

“Yes, yes,” Beomgyu replied hurriedly, dumping his armload of groceries on the coffee table. “You liked this one, right?” He fished the bottle out of the paper bag and twisted it around to show Soobin the label.

“Looks good.” Soobin came over to help unload the other things he'd bought: a block of brie cheese, a carton of strawberries, a loaf of sourdough bread. “ Ratatouille -ass grocery run.”

Despite being pressed for time, he sniggered. “We should watch that tonight.”

“Is that really how you wanna spend your celebratory dinner?”

He nodded. “Fuck yeah. My dinner, my movie pick.”

“Fair enough,” Soobin shrugged. “You picked everything else too.”

Beomgyu surveyed the spread of his choices: short ribs, noodle soup, fruit and cheese board, wine. And choices shared by him and Soobin, accumulated over the past months: the atrocious porcelain chicken coffee table, a saggy sofa more like an exceptionally wide beanbag, a vase of spring flowers. He liked it a lot, all of it.

“Oh, right. You have a card from Yeonjun.” Soobin handed him an envelope.

Intrigued, Beomgyu opened the card and skimmed through its contents.

Dear Beomgyu,

Congratulations on 100k streams! Huge milestone!

I'll keep it short but I wanted you to know that you have always had it in you. I'm happy that many other people are seeing it too, but I hope you never forget that it is always there inside you, even when you can't see or feel it yourself. 

I'll be looking forward to more of your songs. As always, super proud to be 

Your friend,

Yeonjun

Beomgyu looked up at Soobin, who was cleaning up a spill on the counter. “What'd he say?” he asked.

“Just a congratulatory message. Here, I'll read it out loud.”

Soobin pursed his lips as he listened, but nodded at the end. “Pretty good.”

“No other comments?”

Soobin put down the rag in his hands and faced Beomgyu. “It was never really his fault, after all,” he admitted. “I have no issues with him. He's a nice guy.”

“Yeah, but…”

“That's what I'm choosing to leave it as, anyway,” he said firmly.

Beomgyu stepped closer to Soobin, snuck his hands onto his hips, and tilted his head up with sparkling eyes and an exaggerated pout. “So no crazy possessive sex tonight?”

Soobin scrunched his face up but hooked his arms around Beomgyu’s shoulders, effectively pulling him in closer, until they were chest to chest.

“It’s my dinner…” he wheedled.

“Fine,” Soobin sighed, ducking his head to place a gentle kiss on Beomgyu’s forehead. “But you better not complain about the consequences.”

He rested the side of his head on Soobin’s shoulder, and squirmed lower until his ear was flush against his pecs. Feeling Soobin’s heartbeat, relaxed and warm, he closed his eyes and murmured, “I probably will anyway.”

“I know you will,” he replied fondly. A finger came up to brush against Beomgyu’s eyelashes. “Your lashes are so long when you close your eyes.”

Beomgyu fluttered his eyes and peeked up at Soobin, who looked slightly awed, like a clumsy teenager picking up his date for a high school prom. “Thanks to my parents,” he preened.

“Nah,” Soobin said. “I think it's just you, Beomgyu. It's just you.”