Work Text:
Yotha knew he was being ridiculous, utterly and unreasonably so—but he couldn’t bring himself to care in the slightest.
Sure, he was sitting at the nearly empty university library on a random Tuesday afternoon, skipping class. Sure, he had chosen a spot two tables away from where his boyfriend sat, completely unaware of being watched. And yes, he’d been sitting there in silence for the past twenty minutes, legs stretched out carelessly in front of him, arms crossed, with absolutely no intention of walking over to say hi or leaving anytime soon.
But no, this wasn’t crazy. Or paranoid. Or stalkerish. Not at all.
It was... observation. Quiet concern. A boyfriend's duty really.
Yotha’s gaze lingered on Gunyukhol, who was hunched over his desk, his head bowed and turned mostly away from view as he scribbled away in a notebook. His laptop was open in front of him, a cluster of thick textbooks stacked on either side. The whole setup was peak Gun; focused yet slightly chaotic but mostly endearing.
Yotha’s lips curved in a soft smile when his eyes landed on the familiar mess of highlighters scattered all over the desk; at least six different colors, uncapped and in active use. They were Gun’s favorite tools when it came to studying. He once claimed that color-coding his notes helped him think more clearly, but Yotha knew he just liked the way the pages looked when he was done. Like miniature works of art.
And Gun was busy doing exactly what he’d told Yotha he would be. Like he had been yesterday. And the day before that. Working on his midterm assignment at the library, around sunset, diligently and alone.
Everything was as it was supposed to be.
So far anyway.
Yotha’s phone buzzed on the table in front of him, the vibration loud against the library’s silence. He picked it up, thumb sliding across the screen.
Has she shown up yet?
Yotha frowned.
It was from Faifa, his younger brother and the root cause of his current espionage mission. Before Yotha could form a reply, more messages popped up in rapid succession.
Look for a pretty junior with her hair in a braid.
Brown hair.
Long legs.
Dimple.
Each message seemed to mock Yotha as his jaw tightened. The urge to hurl the phone across the library was overwhelming. He gripped it tighter instead.
Because breaking his phone would be loud. That would give his position away.
Not that he was hiding from Gun or anything. He was in plain sight, really. If Gun simply turned around, he would spot him in an instant. But Yotha’s beagle was too absorbed in his work, blissfully unaware of the eyes fixed on the back of his head.
Yotha shifted uncomfortably in his seat, guilt gnawing at his conscience. He trusted Gun. He really did. But he also knew where this paranoia had come from.
It was all Faifa’s fault.
[A few hours earlier]
“She goes to see him every day…” Faifa had drawled casually, elbow propped on the lunch table, his chin resting on his curled fist.
Yotha’s entire body was tense, jaw starting to hurt from being clenched too hard. He stared at the plastic fork in his hand, the poor utensil bearing the brunt of his rising irritation.
His brother had just finished relaying the latest bit of gossip he'd picked up from one of his juniors, a particularly chatty one, it seemed. Apparently, Gun had been getting daily visits from some pretty underclassman at the library. According to the junior, this girl would show up right on cue during his study sessions, gifting him sweet smiles, casual touches, and energy drinks like some eager little helper in a romance drama.
And, supposedly, Gun smiled back.
Yotha’s knuckles whitened around the fork. Across the table, Faifa was grinning like the smug idiot he was, completely enjoying himself.
“She’s a junior from your faculty,” he added, helpfully. “Maybe you know her? I have a picture. Wanna see?”
The glare Yotha shot at him had Faifa holding up his hands in mock surrender but Yotha knew he wouldn't let it go. Faifa never let things go. Persistence was his brother's biggest personality trait.
“I mean, it’s not crazy if she’s hitting on him. Ears is adorable,” he added with a grin, using his nickname for Gun like it was the most natural thing in the world. “But you’re always glued to him, so no one else really gets a chance to be near the guy.”
Clearly, Yotha thought bitterly, he hadn’t been glued close enough.
Of course Yotha knew Faifa wasn’t wrong. His beagle was the kind of guy who drew people in without even trying. Sweet, kind, cheerful and effortlessly charming. Of course people liked him. Of course someone would try their luck the second they saw an opening.
And for the past few days, there had been an opening. Yotha hadn’t been there. Gun had been spending his afternoons at the library alone, without him, without their usual group of friends. It was the perfect opportunity for someone to swoop in.
And apparently, someone had.
“Relax,” Faifa said, yanking the now-bent fork from Yotha’s fingers and tossing it onto the table. “Knowing Gun, it probably hasn’t gone anywhere. I doubt you have anything to worry about.”
“I know that,” Yotha spat back, though his voice lacked conviction. He did trust Gun. Completely. But he also knew how impossibly kind his boyfriend was. Gun couldn’t say no if his life depended on it, and he had the frustrating habit of mistaking flirtation for friendliness.
And that, that was what worried Yotha.
“You should check it out for yourself though,” Faifa said with a shrug, like it was no big deal. “Just to be sure.”
Yotha didn’t need to be told twice. He didn’t even need to be told once, really.
“What’s with the smirk?” he growled when he finally noticed Faifa watching him with a knowing smile.
“Just enjoying how human you’ve become,” Faifa replied, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You’re down bad, bro.”
Yotha didn’t argue. Because Faifa was right.
[The Present]
A flash of pale skin and a swish of brown hair stopped Yotha’s spiraling thoughts dead in their tracks. The underclassman he’d been told about had just approached Gun’s table.
Jolted, Yotha straightened in his seat so fast the old wooden chair gave a slight creak. He shoved his phone into his pocket without replying to Faifa, eyes zeroing in on the figure now standing beside Gun. Her back was mostly turned to Yotha, hiding her face from view, but the details were damning enough; a single long braid trailing down her back, her uniform skirt hiked up slightly at the hem to give the illusion of longer legs, and in her hand, the unmistakable silver-blue of an energy drink bottle.
Yotha’s fists clenched so tightly it hurt.
She bowed politely to Gun, who glanced up from his notebook and returned the gesture. Whatever words they exchanged were swallowed by the thick hush of the nearly empty library, leaving Yotha to burn in silence from a distance. The quiet between shelves, broken only by the hum of old fluorescent lights and the distant scratch of pens on paper, felt suddenly unbearable.
Yotha watched as the girl carefully placed the drink on Gun’s table, a practiced smile, he was sure, on her lips. Gun bowed again in response. From this angle, Yotha couldn’t see his boyfriend’s expression, no matter how hard he craned his neck. His frustration only grew heavier, settling heavy in his gut.
He wanted, no, he needed to do something. To stand, to storm over, to demand the girl take her cheap gift and her flirtatious intentions and walk the hell away. But Yotha remained frozen as though some invisible force had nailed him to his chair.
The girl didn’t linger long. She said something more, dipped into another small bow, and walked away in the opposite direction, leaving Gun sitting quietly at his desk again. Most of her profile remained a mystery, and that made Yotha somehow angrier.
Then Gun reached for the energy drink.
Yotha shot up from his seat, sending it scraping sharply against the tiled floor. His legs moved before his mind caught up, carrying him swiftly to his boyfriend’s table. He didn’t pause. He didn’t speak. He stopped in the exact spot where the underclassman had been standing mere seconds ago and stared down at Gun’s head, body vibrating.
Gun looked up and blinked in surprise. The frown he'd had on his face disappeared when he recognized Yotha, a small smile replacing it.
“Yotha? What are you doing here?”
But Yotha didn’t answer. His hand darted out and snatched the drink from Gun’s fingers. Without a word, he turned and tossed it into the trash can beside the table with a hollow clatter.
“Yotha!” Gun half yelled in shock. He then quickly glanced around, worried about being loud. A few students turned their heads, curious or annoyed, but Yotha didn’t care. He reached for Gun’s wrist next, gripping it with more force than he intended.
“Come with me,” he muttered, pulling Gun out of his chair. His boyfriend stumbled a bit, confused and caught off guard, but followed.
Yotha didn’t know where he was going until he was already taking them there, toward the far end of the library, where the rows of books grew older and thicker with dust. Past rows of rarely touched academic journals and abandoned encyclopedias, to the very back where the air was musty with age and disuse. The lighting back here was dimmer, flickering occasionally. The floor creaked underfoot, and the hush here was heavier, almost suffocating.
He stopped only when they reached a forgotten corner near the shelves stacked with old thesis papers, dusty, undisturbed, and hidden from view. Yotha turned and pushed Gun back against the nearest bookshelf. The impact wasn’t harsh, but it startled Gun, whose back hit the wood with a muted thud, books trembling slightly in their places.
“Yotha?” his beagle whispered, clearly alarmed now, his gaze searching his boyfriend’s face for answers.
Yotha couldn’t meet his eyes. So instead, he dropped his gaze to Gun’s lips, warm and familiar and close enough to erase everything else in his mind.
He kissed him.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. Yotha’s mouth crashed into Gun’s with desperation and a kind of angry need, his fingers threading roughly through his boyfriend’s hair. Gun let out a muffled squeak of surprise as Yotha pinned him tighter against the shelf.
He kissed like he was trying to claim something, like he was afraid it might be taken away.
Yotha watched as Gun’s eyes squeezed shut. As his brows furrowed. His hands flew to Yotha’s shoulders, pushing gently, then more insistently.
“Yotha, wait-” he managed before Yotha swallowed the rest of it.
Because Yotha didn’t want to wait. Couldn’t wait.
He groaned into Gun’s mouth as his boyfriend’s trembling hands moved to the front of his shirt, gripping tightly. Yotha caught Gun’s wrists and pinned them above his head, pressing them against the old dusty books with one of his hands. Gun gasped, shocked at the restraint, but Yotha took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. His tongue swept into Gun’s mouth, sucking hard, greedy and unrelenting.
Only when he felt Gun stop resisting and heard a soft moan rise from his throat did Yotha let go of his wrists, freeing his hands to tug at Gun’s engineering overshirt. He pulled it off hastily, letting it fall to the dusty floor, before shoving a hand down the front of Gun’s jeans without thinking.
That was when Gun bit down on his tongue.
Yotha jerked back with a hiss, more startled than hurt. Gun was panting, his face flushed, his hair tousled from Yotha’s grip. But his eyes weren’t soft, they were wide and confused.
“Yotha, are you crazy?” he asked, glancing down the empty aisle. “What if someone sees us?”
Yotha didn’t know how to answer. Because he did feel crazy. Unsteady. His thoughts scrambled as he stared at Gun, helpless.
“What are you doing here?” his beagle asked again, “why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
Yotha still couldn't find the words and he hated it. Hated how difficult he still found it to voice his thoughts. He should have been better at this by now. His fists curled again, trembling by his sides. But Gun saw. Gun always saw.
His boyfriend reached for him, pulling him into a tight hug. Yotha went easily, burying his face into his boyfriend’s neck, breathing in the scent he loved so much. Laundry detergent and something faintly jasmine, clean and warm and Gun.
“What’s wrong?” his beagle asked softly, his voice fraying with concern.
Yotha felt guilt lodge in his throat like a stone. He was being irrational, and he knew it. But he couldn’t let it go. He wrapped his arms around Gun’s waist tighter, like he could absorb Gun into himself.
His boyfriend eventually pulled back, though his hands remained around Yotha. They looked at each other in silence for a long, drawn out moment.
“Who was that?” Yotha asked at last, his voice flat. The question came out accusatory, like an interrogation and it made Yotha’s throat feel bitter.
Gun merely blinked, clueless. “Who was what?”
“The pretty junior who gave you that drink earlier.”
Gun’s expression changed as he registered Yotha's meaning. He went pale, his eyes darting away as his hands fell away from Yotha’s sides.
“You... saw her?” Beagle asked quietly, voice cracking.
Yotha’s heart dropped.
He reached for Gun’s chin, turning his face gently back toward him and his breath caught when he saw the shimmer in Gun’s eyes. Taken aback, he reached out and gathered his boyfriend into his arms, his only concern being Gun’s tears now. Yotha hated when Gun cried, he’d vowed to himself long ago to make sure his beagle never shed tears again.
But his boyfriend was sobbing now, tears wetting Yotha’s shoulder as he cried into it.
“Gun?” Yotha whispered into his hair, dread creepin in.
“She came for you, Yotha!” he whined through his tears into Yotha’s shirt.
“What? Who?”
“The junior! She’s been coming to see me to ask about you,” Gun choked, pulling back. “She’s in your faculty. She wanted tips on how to get close to you!”
Yotha froze, slowly putting the pieces together.
Gun looked devastated. Eyes swollen and tears drenching his flushed cheeks. His shoulders shook with each sob, and Yotha’s heart hurt with every sound. He gathered Gun up again, holding him like he could shield him from everything in the world.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” he murmured. “Please don’t cry.”
But Gun only cried harder, clung tighter, punching a weak fist into Yotha’s back.
“She said she and I were alike. That you’d like her for sure!” he whimpered.
Yotha pulled back only fractionally and kissed his way along Gun’s neck, his jaw, his cheeks, murmuring apologies and reassurances.
"She’s insane,” he assured softly. “She’s not like you. No one is.”
“But you called her pretty!"
Had he? Yotha couldn't recall.
“Whatever. I only have eyes for you, Beagle, you know that.”
Gun sniffled but managed a nod.
Yotha helped his boyfriend wipe at his face, relief washing over him when he realized the tears had stopped. He then gently took his beagle’s wrists in his, checking for any discomfort.
“I’m sorry for how rough I was earlier. Did I hurt you?”
Gun blinked slowly, clearly remembering everything all at once. “Yeah, what was that about?”
Yotha groaned. “It was Fai.”
Gun tilted his head, questioning. Yotha sighed.
“He told me the junior had a crush on you. Got me worked up. I followed you here and-”
“You followed me?” Gun repeated, raising an eyebrow.
Yotha winced. “I was... concerned.”
“Concerned?”
“Jealous.”
That made Gun giggle, a little one, but it was enough to make Yotha’s chest loosen.
"Were we both jealous at the same time?"
Yotha cracked a smile too. "Yeah, I guess we were."
Gun paused mid laugh. “Wait... you said Fai told you?”
“Yeah?”
“I told him about the junior last night!”
Yotha’s eyes narrowed, piecing more of what was going on.
“He was supposed to come today,” his beagle elaborated further. “He said he’d help. Talk to her.”
Yotha frowned, realization dawning. His brother had known the girl was interested in Yotha, not his boyfriend. But he’d spun the story differently.
It was a set up. The asshole.
Gun blinked in confusion at Yotha’s expression. “What?”
"It doesn't matter," Yotha told him softly, cupping Gun's damp cheeks. "As long as you're okay now."
Gun pouted, his brows knitting adorably. "What are you going to say to her?"
"To who?" Yotha asked, though he already knew.
Beagle rolled his eyes with an exaggerated huff. "The pretty junior, Yotha. When she approaches you."
"You're prettier."
"I know that. Now what will you tell her?"
Yotha pretended to think about it. "I'll tell her to ask a different senior for help."
Gun nodded slowly, though his eyes remained uncertain. Yotha chuckled under his breath and brushed his fingers through the soft strands at Gun's nape.
"Or," he said, tilting his head with a glint in his eyes, "I could tell her I have a boyfriend named Gunyukhol, who I love very much. Just so she knows."
Gun’s face lit up like sunlight breaking through a cloudy day, and Yotha could almost imagine a pair of floppy beagle ears perking up at the praise. It made his chest feel warm.
The dusty air of the old library section clung around them like a second skin, steeping the silence in a kind of intimacy. Yotha leaned in until their foreheads almost touched, waiting until Gun finally lifted his gaze to meet his. He leaned in, his breath fanning against the shell of his beagle’s ear.
"I could also tell her," Yotha murmured, voice low and mischievous, "that I can no longer get off without Gunyukhol naked and writhing beneath me."
Gun jerked back like he’d been electrocuted, his eyes going wide in alarm. "Yotha!"
Yotha grinned in pure satisfaction as a furious blush blossomed across Gun’s cheeks, crawling all the way down his neck and to the tips of his ears like wildfire.
"I could also describe the sounds you make when I put my tongue in-"
A hand slapped over his mouth. Gun’s palm was warm and a little shaky as he tried, and failed, to keep his composure. Laughter bubbled out of him despite the blush.
"Okay, okay, enough. I get it."
Yotha mumbled nonsense into his boyfriend’s palm until Gun dropped his hand.
"Forget her," Yotha said, his voice softening. "Just tell me you forgive me and you trust me. Then kiss me."
His boyfriend's smile was radiant, dazzling, the kind that made Yotha’s knees a little weak.
"I forgive you."
Yotha leaned in for a sweet kiss, one that made Gun giggle as their noses bumped.
"I trust you."
Another kiss, more lingering this time, leaving them both breathless and laughing into each other's mouths. Yotha pulled back, eyebrows raised expectantly as he tapped at his lips.
Gun scoffed, pretending to be unimpressed. "You've already gotten plenty of kisses."
Yotha wanted to tell him that it would never be enough, that he could kiss Gun a thousand times a day and still crave one more. Instead, he kissed him again. Longer. Slower. More deliberate.
Gun’s hands clutched at his shoulders, his body relaxing into Yotha’s. He sighed softly into the kiss, and Yotha deepened it, pushing him back into the bookshelf behind him once more, gentler this time but still filled with passion.
His hands slid down, firm and possessive, grasping Gun’s ass to position him closer. Gun didn’t resist now. Instead, he moaned quietly into Yotha’s mouth and tugged him even closer, fingers tightening at Yotha’s nape in the way that drove Yotha delirious.
When they could no longer breathe, Yotha wrenched his lips from Gun’s to trail open-mouthed kisses down his jaw and throat. He hummed, intoxicated by the warmth and the soft, clean scent of Gun’s skin. He shoved his knee between Gun’s parted legs and was rewarded with a sharp, breathy groan that made his lower half twitch with interest. Yotha's hand quickly sneaked up under his boyfriend’s shirt, needing access to more skin.
"Yotha, w-wait!" Gun gasped between ragged breaths. "Let’s- mmmh… let’s go back to our apartment first, please…?"
His words said to stop but his hands still clung to Yotha like he couldn’t quite let go. Yotha bit down gently on the side of his beagle’s neck in frustration, knowing Gun was right but not quite ready to pull away either. He desperately needed to-
Then it happened, a loud gasp echoed from the far end of the aisle, followed by the clatter of books hitting the dusty floor. Yotha and Gun froze, eyes shooting up to each other.
Both turned toward the sound at the same time. A girl stood at the end of the aisle, her hands clasped tightly over her mouth, eyes bulging in shock. Yotha noted the hiked up skirt, the distinctive brown haired braid falling over her shoulder.
Oh.
He finally knew what the underclass looked like. And he'd been right, his beagle was definitely prettier.
The image they painted must've been something. Yotha's hand was still up Gun’s shirt. Gun's engineering jacket lay on the ground in front of them like discarded evidence. Yotha’s body was pressed flush against his boyfriend’s, one leg still slotted intimately between his beagle’s thighs.
Yotha slowly raised a finger to his lips, asking her to keep the secret.
The girl nodded furiously and scrambled to scoop up her books, fumbling them into her arms before fleeing down the aisle without a glance back. Yotha turned to see Gun staring blankly ahead in stunned silence before he buried his face in Yotha’s chest with a mortified groan.
"This is why I said we should go home!" Gun whined, voice muffled as he weakly pummeled Yotha’s chest with both fists.
“Well at least she’ll leave us alone now.”
“I'll be the one running from her!”
Yotha threw his head back and laughed, feeling great after what felt like forever. He then glanced back down at his sunshine.
"At least that solved one of our problems," he told Gun.
"We have more problems?"
Yotha took a moment to admire how disheveled and gorgeous Gun still looked; flushed cheeks, mussed hair, kiss-swollen lips. Red and purple marks were already blooming on his otherwise fair skin. His beagle looked utterly ravished.
"Yotha?" Gun asked, snapping him from his haze. "What other problems do we have?"
Yotha grinned, leaning in with wicked amusement twinkling in his eyes.
"How are we going to get you out of here and all the way to the car without anyone noticing you're half hard?"
Gun’s eyes widened. He glanced down between them, then back up to glare daggers at Yotha.
"Worry about yourself!" he hissed, red-faced, shoving Yotha away and storming off with as much dignity as one could manage with a visible problem in their jeans.
Yotha chuckled and bent down to retrieve Gun’s forgotten shirt from the floor before jogging after his boyfriend.