Archive of Our Own

The moon has a face like the clock in the hall;
She shines on thieves on the garden wall,
On streets and fields and harbour quays,
And birdies asleep in the forks of the trees.

The squalling cat and the squeaking mouse,
The howling dog by the door of the house,
The bat that lies in bed at noon,
All love to be out by the light of the moon.

But all of the things that belong to the day
Cuddle to sleep to be out of her way;
And flowers and children close their eyes
Till up in the morning the sun shall arise.

The Moon by Robert Louis Stevenson (1885)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Beomgyu could not remember when it started raining. His clothes were completely soaked through, he could feel water in his shoes. His future-self would surely curse at this version of him, this despondent, hollow version. He wondered why he hadn't bothered to check the weather forecast before selecting that day as his most dreaded day. Still, he couldn't bring himself to move from his chair, the one positioned perfectly in front of the casket.

Rain continued beating against him as he looked up through sopping wet hair at the grass field with perfectly lined-up tombstones in front of him. He closed his eyes as his mind began to wander farther than he usually would allow before breathing a deep sigh. The thought of having to return here to visit someone he used to see everyday formed a never-ending pit in his stomach. He snapped back into reality when he heard faint shouting, craning his neck to see a figure approaching him quickly.

“Beomgyu, what are you doing? It's raining too hard, come on.”

It was Yeonjun.

Beomgyu squinted through the rain to see Yeonjun running downhill towards him, against the sea of people dressed in all black clothing. Out of the corner of his eye, Beomgyu spotted Yeonjun’s mom, the one wearing the most ridiculous hat he thought he’d ever seen, and the only guest wearing a hat at all. He couldn’t help but scoff again at the sight of it. Who wears a hat to a funeral? As Yeonjun got closer, Beomgyu decided to stop looking at the ugliest hat known to man. He shifted in his seat to face him better, and waited until he was in front of him before speaking.

“Please, just a few more minutes,” he said in a low, desperate tone, suddenly shifting to avoid eye contact with the older male. Instead, he observed Yeonjun’s appearance, noting the umbrella tucked under his arm and his clothes, which were significantly more dry than his; should’ve checked the weather. He knew why he was here, but Beomgyu wasn’t ready to go just yet.

Yeonjun sighed. “I’m really sorry bud, you know I wouldn’t do this, but someone mentioned lightning and I-” he stopped with a sharp inhale, probably trying to catch his breath after running so far. “At least come to the car and wait for the rain to pass,” he pleaded.

Beomgyu looked back up at Yeonjun, whose arm was extended in front of him, offering up his umbrella as some sort of trade-off. Begrudgingly, he rose from his chair and accepted the umbrella from Yeonjun, opening it quickly. He held it at an angle which would cover the both of them, the least he could do given that it was Yeonjun’s umbrella to begin with. The pair walked briskly up the hill to Beomgyu’s car, desperate to seek shelter from the cold rain.

They sat in silence for a few minutes while they each caught their breath, and while Beomgyu attempted to warm up after being pelted with rain for who knows how long. He hadn’t realized how cold he had gotten. The air in the car was tense, and Yeonjun made a bold move by striking up a conversation with Beomgyu. 

“I’m sorry this is how the day turned out,” he said forlornly. “I thought your speech was beautiful. I know he would’ve loved it too.”

Beomgyu glanced over to see Yeonjun already looking at him. “He would’ve hated it. He would’ve hated this whole day,” he responded shortly, focusing his gaze on the dashboard.

“Yeah, I know… he never enjoyed the spotlight,” he chuckled lightly. Beomgyu did not respond, and Yeonjun shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Beomgyu could feel Yeonjun’s timid gaze flickering over at him. He could tell the other was wanting to say something else, but was feeling apprehensive, he knew him well enough at this point. If the hours they spent together were any indication, Beomgyu knew he would have to prompt Yeonjun to say what he wanted to say. He wished Yeonjun would just say it instead of staring at him like he was one off-hand comment from spiraling. I mean, he was, but that wasn’t the point.

Before Beomgyu could open his mouth and voice his thoughts, Yeonjun finally spoke up again. “Look, I know this might be odd to ask, but, are you okay? Like, actually?” He was right, it was odd to ask. Yeonjun always had a way of being a bit on-the-nose. At the same time, Beomgyu knew that Yeonjun was coming from a place of deep-rooted concern and care.

Beomgyu looked at Yeonjun briefly, then down towards his lap. His hands were folded neatly over his thighs, feeling somewhat pruney from being out in the rain; he nervously fidgeted with the skin on his thumb, trying anything to distract from the dark cloud of emotion looming over him.

He breathed in shakily before answering. “Honestly…no,” he continued scratching at his thumb. “I miss him and his laugh…” he trailed off, taking a moment to look up in an attempt to make the growing lump in his throat disappear. Beomgyu closed his eyes as a single tear slid down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away, and felt pressure on his shoulder. He turned to meet Yeonjun’s teary gaze, his hand resting comfortingly on the younger’s shoulder. Yeonjun began speaking again, and honestly, Beomgyu was relieved to be rescued from yet another opportunity to bear his soul to someone. The past few months have been emotionally and physically draining, and he would accept any opportunity to get out of reliving some of the worst days of his life. 

Yeonjun continued, rambling on about the power of love or something, but Beomgyu couldn’t hear a single word. The older male’s monologue faded into the background as he refocused his gaze on the dashboard in front of him, eyes falling onto his favorite photo of him and Soobin. Beomgyu felt a shiver go down his spine as he studied it. In the photo, the older male had his chest pressed against the younger with his arms wrapped tightly around him, embracing Beomgyu in a tight hold. He looked straight into the camera while Beomgyu turned his head to look at the male behind him, eyes filled with joy. He both hated and loved that photo; hated, because Soobin was wearing that god-forsaken striped sweater with the holes in the elbows that he always wore in their university days, but loved, because his smile outshone every star in the sky. Soobin was grinning from ear to ear, dimples prominent as his eyes folded into crescent moons. 

Beomgyu stared blankly at the photo and pitied those smiling boys.

——————————————

The day Beomgyu met Soobin was the worst day of his life. Nobody warned him of the difficulties of starting university, and it seemed that he was having a harder time adjusting than everyone else. He found it impossible to balance his studies with his social life; he tended to be a bit forgetful. His flaws came into fruition on the worst day of his life. 

Beomgyu stopped into an on-campus coffee shop on his way home from a meeting with the office of financial aid—the results of his less-than-average midterm grades were seemingly going to cost him his scholarship. As he rummaged through his bag to find his debit card, he noticed he didn’t have his keys with him. He must have forgotten them on the desk in his dorm room again. Could this day get any worse?

The universe took that as a challenge, because shortly after Beomgyu tried to pay for his drink with his card, it declined. 

“You have got to be kidding me,” he groaned, letting his head roll back in frustration. He must have forgotten to transfer money out of his savings account. 

The barista behind the counter kindly asked him if he had another form of payment. Beomgyu reached up to scratch the back of his neck as he thought. “Erm…” he knew he didn’t, because he conveniently forgot to bring cash with him today as well. He really needed to make a checklist.

“I can pay for him,” a voice behind him spoke. Beomgyu turned to look at the source of the voice. It was a boy who couldn’t have been much older than him. He was tall and slender, but he still had a somewhat athletic build. His dark hair was neatly trimmed just above his ears, and he had a handsome face. His features were soft, especially his eyes, but Beomgyu couldn’t help but note the boy’s full cheeks. 

“What? Are you sure? I can pay you back, I promise,” Beomgyu said to the boy, but he shook his head lightly in response.

“Don’t worry about it, I don’t mind,” he said gently, bringing his own card up to the machine to pay for Beomgyu’s drink. Beomgyu stepped to the side as the other male ordered something for himself, and he watched the way his nose scrunched up as he made his decisions. After ordering and paying for his own items, he joined Beomgyu as they waited for their names to be called.

“Thank you again, you really didn’t have to do that. I’ll pay you back for it,” he spoke eventually. He turned to face the boy as he waited for his response. 

“Honestly it’s fine, it was only $4,” the tall boy said. Beomgyu frowned at his reply, there was no way he was going to let this go.

“Are you sure? I can venmo you, I mean, I don’t have any cash on me but-”

“I insist,” the boy said firmly. He looked at Beomgyu and gave him a soft smile. “It’s really not a big deal.”

Beomgyu eyed the boy, unsure if he should continue the conversation. Something about him was captivating, and Beomgyu wanted to keep talking with him. They were both stuck waiting for their drinks, so it’s not like he was keeping him there.

“So,” Beomgyu started, “are you a student here?”

“Yeah, I’m in my second year. Studying economics,” the boy replied with a nod.

“Oh, that’s pretty hard isn’t it? You have to be pretty smart, huh.”

The boy smiled sheepishly, suddenly avoiding Beomgyu’s eyes. “No, erm, there are people way smarter than me here. I get by.” Beomgyu watched as the boy paused for a moment before turning his head to look back at him and asking, “What about you?”

“I’m a marketing student, it’s my first year so…” 

“Are you liking it so far?”

“It’s been… a little difficult to adjust, but I’m doing alright.” Beomgyu was sure the boy didn’t want to know the truth. He was probably just trying to be nice, better not bore him with the details. He appreciated the boy’s company regardless, it made him feel a little less alone. 

The boy nodded in response and silence fell over the pair again. 

“Honestly, I was having a horrible day before you paid for me,” Beomgyu admitted suddenly. The boy gave him a small nod in acknowledgment before saying, “I’m glad I could help.”

“Iced coffee for Beomgyu?'' The barista placed the drink on the counter, and Beomgyu stepped forward to take it. 

“Well, I should get going, I need to find a way to break into my own room,” Beomgyu sighed looking at the boy in front of him. The boy raised an inquisitive brow, and Beomgyu assured him with a forced smile, “I forgot my keys.”

Beomgyu planned to wait for the other boy to get his drink before returning to his room, for some reason he didn’t want to leave his side just yet.

“Coffee for Soobin?” The boy approached the counter to claim his drink, and walked back over to where Beomgyu stood. 

“Good luck with your… situation…” Soobin said, moving his free hand around in a circle as if he was trying to find the right words to use. Beomgyu thought that was cute.

“I’ll be fine, this is a regular occurrence for me, unfortunately,” Beomgyu responded, beginning to walk towards the shop exit. Sobbin followed behind him.

When they exited the shop Beomgyu turned towards Soobin. “Thank you again for… everything. I really needed this.”

Soobin gave him a soft, knowing smile. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

On a crisp Tuesday evening Beomgyu found himself in the park near campus waiting for Soobin. It was 9:03, and Soobin was late; he told Beomgyu to wait under the large oak tree at nine, and that he would meet him there, but Beomgyu waited for his arrival alone. He was mildly confused when he received a text from the older man earlier that morning, telling him to clear his schedule for the evening. He claimed to have something special planned for the two of them. 

Beomgyu checked his phone again to see if he missed any texts from Soobin, but saw he had no new notifications. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his coat and huffed out a sigh, letting his gaze wander to his surroundings. The trees were bare, as any leaves that would normally coat the branches had changed color and fallen months ago. Despite it being winter, there wasn’t snow on the ground, only a thin blanket of frost, which Beomgyu was thankful for. He didn’t think he would be able to wait outside in the snow for Soobin. He wasn’t alone in the park, but there certainly weren’t many other people around him. Beomgyu noticed a couple on what he presumed to be a moonlight walk, and allowed himself to daydream about doing the same with Soobin. How nice it would be to walk alongside the older. He shifted his weight between his feet as he imagined himself trotting along next to Soobin.

The time was 9:08 when he saw Soobin running towards him with a grin plastered on his face. Beomgyu perked up at the sight of him, trying to control any giddiness he might be feeling. 

“Oh, look who finally decided to show up,” Beomgyu teased. “You know, it’s really chilly outside, I could have freezed to death and then you’d have to date an ice cube.” It really was cold, Beomgyu could see Soobin’s warm breath in the cool air as he tried to calm down after running toward him. The very tip of his nose was red, and Beomgyu thought he must have been outside for a while. 

Soobins scoffed and rolled his eyes at the joke, but Beomgyu caught the way his cheeks flushed pink.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting, but I promise it’ll be worth it,” Soobin spoke as he began walking backwards, motioning for Beomgyu to join him. He hesitated, but trusted the older’s skills in the art of planning. 

“What are we doing out here anyway?” Beomgyu finally asked, taking large strides to keep up with Soobin’s fast pace. He secretly hoped they wouldn’t have to walk far since he stood around for a while waiting for Soobin. 

Soobin looked back at him and smiled. “Are you capable of being patient?” Beomgyu knew he was only half-joking, he had a tendency to be relentless. For Soobin’s sake, he repressed his inquisitive thoughts and followed his boyfriend toward their elusive destination.

Boyfriend…

Beomgyu couldn’t believe he was now dating the boy from the coffee shop that he conveniently hung around more often than he’d like to admit, hoping to “accidentally” run into him again. His first few visits were unsuccessful, and he even thought about finding a new place to get his coffee from out of embarrassment for his situation, until his weird scheme to meet Soobin again finally worked. Soobin, of course, recognized Beomgyu—he was kind of hard to forget— and Beomgyu jumped at the opportunity to speak with the older male again. They really hit it off, and decided to meet again in a few days for an actual sit-down conversation, rather than their usual brief small talk.

After their first intentionally planned coffee date, the two found themselves falling into a pattern of regular meetings, usually once a week. Both males enjoyed meeting with the other, especially since the semester was drawing to a close. Their booth in the back corner of the shop was their place: somewhere they could go to escape reality and pretend that finals weren’t looming over their heads. Time and hardship didn’t exist in the coffee shop, only good company and good conversation. 

They couldn’t pretend forever, though. With finals rapidly approaching, Beomgyu’s brain felt like water. All of his assignments, overdue and upcoming, swam through his head, muddling his thoughts. He didn’t realize he had been spacing out of the conversation for a few minutes until he saw Soobin duck down to meet his gaze that had been fixed on the table between them for who knows how long.

“Beomgyu, is everything alright?” Soobin asked, eyebrows knitted together in concern.

He sat up straight suddenly, meeting eyes with Soobin, then letting his shoulders sink into the seat behind him. “Okay, so, you know how I’m not the best at staying organized?” Beomgyu began.

“I really hadn’t noticed,” Soobin shook his head slightly, holding back a small chuckle.

“Shut up!” Beomgyu said, trying to sound serious while his cheeks heated up. He lightly tossed a crumbled up straw wrapper at the older, so as to make him pay for poking fun at him. Soobin just laughed at him.

“Really though, I’m falling behind in my assignments again, and I need to get it together to keep my scholarship,” he sighed. “I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to remember to do everything.”

“Do you have a calendar?” Soobin asked.

Beomgyu immediately avoided eye contact. “Well no wonder you can’t remember to do anything,” Soobin’s mouth fell open in surprise. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to use one, I just don’t even know where to start,” Beomgyu responded.

“Well, Beomgyu, lucky for you I happen to be very organized.”

Beomgyu rolled his eyes. “It’s really not a competition and you don’t have to rub it in.”

Soobin laughed at this. “No, no, that’s not what I was trying to say. Alright, here’s what we’ll do: I’m going to help you get your schoolwork done on time. Instead of just talking and hanging out, I’ll help you get your assignments done on time and help you make a plan to stay organized.”

“No,” Beomgyu shook his head, “no, you don’t have to do that. I was just complaining but I’m sure I can get it done.”

“Not to be rude, Beomgyu, but this has been a problem all semester,” Soobin raised his eyebrows at the younger and he suddenly felt small under his gaze. “Besides, I want to help you. The decision is final,” he nodded firmly.

Beomgyu wanted to protest, but knowing Soobin cared about his success and wanted to help him made his heart skip a beat. Instead, he gave Soobin a shy smile, and continued drinking his coffee. Soobin was very smart and very organized. If he wanted to teach Beomgyu his ways, who was he to stop him?

Per Soobin’s master plan to keep Beomgyu from flunking out of college (he named it that, not Beomgyu), the two began meeting multiple times a week to work on schoolwork and create a realistic schedule for Beomgyu. Whoever arrived at the shop first would order coffee for the both of them and secure their booth in the back. Beomgyu stayed for as long as it took him to finish his assignments for the day, and Soobin always waited with him, despite finishing his own classwork well before then. On occasion, he would complete an assignment for the younger if he knew they would be there for a while. 

They became quite the working pair thanks to Soobin. 

Some days were easier than others. Beomgyu had a particularly large workload one day, and he had been texting Soobin all day about how stressed out he was; he was worried he wouldn’t be able to complete everything on time. Soobin reassured him that everything would be okay, and told him to text if he needed anything (he had to miss their meeting for office hours). When Beomgyu sat down at the coffee shop, he got to work on his assignments, texting Soobin as he completed each one. Every time, Soobin sent his congratulations and encouraged him to continue. This was all the motivation Beomgyu needed, and soon enough, he was walking back to his dorm with zero assignments left.

When the two met a few days later, Beomgyu arrived to see Soobin already at their booth with two coffees on the table, and a pastry placed between them. Beomgyu smiled at the sight of him, and quickly took his place at the seat in front of him.

“Congratulations on finishing your assignments!” Soobin said with a wide smile. “I knew you could get it done, and more importantly, you did it all by yourself.” Beomgyu’s cheeks suffused with color at the praise and smiled back at the older.

“I couldn’t have done it without your master plan, of course,” Beomgyu wiggled his eyebrows at Soobin, trying to take some of the attention off of him. 

“I got a piece of apple pie for us to share,” Soobin began. “You mentioned wanting to try it, so I thought we could celebrate your success with it.”

Beomgyu didn’t know what to say. He barely even remembered saying he wanted to try the pie, and even then, it was more of an off-hand comment than anything else. He didn’t think Soobin heard him, let alone remembered. Beomgyu felt a warmth in his chest at the thought of Soobin’s kindness.

With a smile, he picked up a fork and took a small bite of the pie, and waited for Soobin to do the same. “To finishing out the semester,” he held his fork out toward Soobin’s, motioning for them to clink their utensils in a celebratory toast. 

The two ate their pie and sipped their coffees while they chatted away, purposefully ignoring the schoolwork they each needed to get done. 

“What do you think?” 

Beomgyu jolted slightly as he came to the stark realization that he had been daydreaming about his boyfriend as if they weren’t currently on what he assumed to be a date. He looked around at their new location; they were still in the park, just in a different section. He had no idea how long they had been walking. Beomgyu looked straight in front of him and saw a large blanket laid across the ground with a small basket placed on top. Soobin was taking him on a picnic. He glanced up at the older, who was holding his breath, eagerly waiting for his response. 

“You planned a picnic?” Beomgyu asked, feeling his heart rate quicken. He could imagine the older sitting down and planning this out well in advance. Soobin was so sweet.

“Not just any picnic,” Soobin said slowly. “A moonlight picnic, which is way cooler than a normal picnic!”

Soobin walked over to the blanket. “Look,” he began, crouching down to reach into the basket, “I got us an apple pie. It’s late, so I figured you already ate dinner.”

Beomgyu was speechless. Was Soobin a mind-reader? How could he have known that not 15 minutes ago, Beomgyu was fantasizing about going on moonlight walks with him? A picnic is different, but definitely better. And Soobin was right, moonlight picnics are way cooler than normal ones. He just knew him so well.

Beomgyu stepped forward to embrace Soobin in a tight hug. “I love it, thank you,” he whispered, letting his eyes fall closed at the touch.

“Happy one month anniversary,” Soobin said, arms wrapping tighter around the younger boy.

“Happy anniversary, Soobin.” Beomgyu smiled as his face sunk into Soobin’s shoulder. Wow, just, wow. Beomgyu was truly in awe. How could he have been so lucky as to date someone as considerate and kind as Soobin? As Beomgyu rubbed his arms along Soobin’s back, he suddenly pulled away at a static feeling, breaking him out of his dream-like state. 

“Dude, what are you wearing?” he asked, leaping out of Soobin’s embrace.

“A sweater…” Soobin responded in an insecure tone. He looked down at his own clothing and then back up at Beomgyu to see him looking at him in disgust.

“Soobin, that has got to be the ugliest sweater I’ve ever seen,” Beomgyu deadpanned. “It’s not even soft, why would you buy that?”

“I liked the stripes on it…”

“Don’t wear that ever again. Ugh, my eyes are burning just looking at it.” Beomgyu, always one for dramatic antics, fanned his eyes while squinting as if they were really burning.

Soobin gaped at him. “Hey! I like it! Just sit down and eat your pie!” Soobin’s tone reminded Beomgyu of a child, but he thought it was endearing regardless. 

The pair ate their pie and shared some more laughs about Soobin’s questionable fashion sense before laying back on the blanket and looking up at the stars. They laid on their backs next to each other, just close enough so that their hands would occasionally brush against the other’s, leaving a warm, fluttering feeling in Beomgyu’s stomach. Beomgyu could feel Soobin move his fingers to purposefully graze his knuckles every so often, and Soobin pretended it was an accident each time. Beomgyu pretended to not notice.

“I love looking at the moon and the constellations,” Soobin mused, brushing his index finger along Beomgyu’s thumb. Beomgyu hummed in agreement, gaze scanning the sky above them.

“That line of three stars is Orion’s belt,” Soobin gestured toward the sky. “See how they’re brighter than the other stars around them? It’s because they’re a special kind of star called a blue star, which basically means they’re really hot. The hotter the star, the brighter they shine.”

Beomgyu found the stars in question. “Oh, I see them.”

“The bright flashing star below Orion’s belt is Sirius, it’s the brightest star in the sky. And that red one above it all is Betelgeuse, a red supergiant. That’s the largest star the naked eye can see.”

“How do you know all of that?” Beomgyu asked, turning his head to look at Soobin.

“I really like astronomy,” Soobin replied. “I had a telescope when I was a kid and I used to track when certain stars would be visible during each season.”

“I didn’t know that. That’s really cool, actually.” Beomgyu looked back up at the sky. “Wow, I never knew there were so many stars in the sky. I feel like I have some studying to do.”

“I like the stars over here better, though,” Soobin said. Beomgyu turned to look at Soobin again, only to see him already facing the younger. “I haven’t studied the stars in your eyes yet, so maybe we can study together.”

Suddenly Beomgyu felt nervous, but excited at the same time. Soobin’s gaze was strong as he stared deeply into Beomgyu’s eyes. 

Soobin leaned forward and placed his hand on the back of Beomgyu’s neck, slightly pulling him forward. Beomgyu’s gaze flickered down to Soobin’s lips, then back up to his eyes, before closing them when he felt Soobin’s lips press gently against his own. A touch so soft, yet Beomgyu could feel his cheeks heat up in response. Soobin moved his lips against Beomgyu’s, slowly and precisely, as they shared a kiss.

Their first kiss. 

——————————————

Beomgyu’s feet dragged as he made the dreaded walk down the long corridor to his apartment after work. What a day. Despite his mind being completely spaced out, his body knew where to take him. Has this hallway always been this long? As he approached his front door, he fumbled in his pants pocket to find his keys, eventually grabbing them and lifting his hand to unlock the door. His fingers trembled as he tried to hold the keys steady in his hand, desperately wanting to get inside. When he gained passage through the door, he didn’t dare move an inch, almost like he didn’t want to go in. His body was betraying his thoughts; if he wanted to go in so badly, why wasn’t he moving? 

He found it hard to care about anything at all these days. Beomgyu knew when he walked inside he would be met with an empty apartment, empty in the sense that what once belonged to two now belonged to one.  He did not want to go into an apartment that he now lived in by himself, with a kitchen that only he cooks in, and a bed that only he sleeps in. Why would he want to do anything now that he was by himself? Beomgyu liked sharing everything, he didn’t want anything to be only his. Why would he want to live in an apartment by himself? If only the door to his apartment were a door to the past, to when everything was simple, to when he was happy, to a time before Beomgyu’s world turned upside-down. 

Once he mustered up the energy to move again, Beomgyu trudged through the doorway, his movements mimicking that of a zombie. He shut the door and dropped his belongings on the floor, not bothering to put them on the dining room table since nobody would get onto him about leaving his things scattered around the apartment anymore. He lived alone and could do whatever he wanted.

His once shared apartment looked nearly identical to when he had a roommate; all the decorations were the same, every book, picture frame, flower vase, nothing went unchanged. The toothbrush holder in his bathroom held two toothbrushes, his shower housed two sets of shampoo, and he had two towels hung on the wall. Beomgyu paid no mind to this, and thought there was no reason for anything to change. Who cared anyway?  It was his apartment now.

Beomgyu moved from the entryway to his bedroom and began to undress out of his work clothes. He left his shoes and his tie on his bedroom floor, letting in a memory of Soobin getting onto him for wearing shoes in the house. Who cares anyway? He slid off his slacks and let them drop in a pool around his ankles, and stepped directly out of them, leaving them on the floor as well. He did the same with his dress shirt. He walked toward his closet and opened it to find two sets of clothes that hung soundly on the racks, with one side looking nearly untouched while the other was a bit messier. Beomgyu took a moment to scan both sides of the closet for a bit before stopping his gaze on one particular item of clothing from the untouched side of the rack. It was a sweater, one that stuck out like a sore thumb, and it had the ugliest striped pattern on it. He immediately grabbed it and removed it from the hanger, deciding that would be his outfit for the night.

He put the sweater on and approached the mirror, looking at the way the ugly sweater draped off his body, clearly too big for him. He was practically swimming in it. Beomgyu’s face was expressionless as he looked at himself wearing Soobin’s clothes in the mirror. He remembered how the sweater used to fit Soobin, and compared to him, Beomgyu looked wrong. Everything was wrong. Soobin used to fill the sweater out, and it sat so perfectly on his frame. What Beomgyu wouldn’t give to see Soobin wear the sweater he hated so much again. He couldn’t stand to look anymore, so he turned toward his bed and promptly fell face-first into the mattress. 

Beomgyu laid still for a minute, then curled his arms under his head, creating a makeshift pillow. He breathed in deeply, accidentally taking in the smell of the sweater that was wrapped around his arms. The sweater still smelled like Soobin. Beomgyu didn’t know why this surprised him, he was the only one who ever wore it. The old thing was hideous, and Beomgyu wouldn’t be caught dead wearing something like that. But things change, and eventually he didn’t care enough to choose an outfit that matched his carefully crafted aesthetic. Nothing mattered anyway, nobody was going to see him like this. 

He continued to breathe in the lingering scent the fabric held. The sweater was heavy, as it was made of a thick material, and it reminded him of a weighted blanket. Beomgyu allowed himself to imagine the impossible, that he wasn’t laying in his dead boyfriend’s sweater, but that he was laying with him, embraced tightly in a hug. He began to cry. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As the coffee poured into its pot, Beomgyu stood in the kitchen and stared at it, breathing in as the scent permeated the room. He watched the machine until the very last drop, then grabbed the pot and poured some into a travel mug, adding cream and sugar, the same way he has always taken his coffee. Slowly, he made his way back to his room to complete what used to be the most daunting task of all: deciding what to wear that day. He used to pride himself on being quite the fashionista, always experimenting with something bold, but these days, Beomgyu caught himself leaving the house in the most dreadful combination of clothes imaginable. Once the very embodiment of daring elegance—patterned silk scarves, sharp lapels, boots polished to a mirror shine—Beomgyu had become almost unrecognizable in his daily garb. Now, he dressed without thought, as if each morning was something to be endured rather than embraced. A baggy sweatshirt, stained with old coffee, hung off his shoulders like a shrug he never quite finished. The trousers which once fit snug were now two sizes too big and cinched with a belt that had seen better decades. His socks rarely matched. Sometimes he wore slippers to the office. He simply did not have the energy. 

After he got dressed, Beomgyu trudged to the bathroom to style his hair so as to look somewhat presentable in the office; everyone knew he was hurting, he didn’t need to make it worse by showing up to work looking like he just rolled out of bed. He figured he should brush his teeth while he was there, so he turned on the faucet and reached for his blue toothbrush, and in the process, he caught a glimpse of the green toothbrush perched right next to his. Beomgyu’s gaze jerked upward to the mirror. He clung to the sink like a man trying not to drown and stared—hard, unblinking—at the man staring back. He looked tired. He looked older. He looked like someone who’d forgotten how to live alone. He let out a sigh and closed his eyes. His head lulled to the side a bit as he stood there, breathing, trying to relax. It wasn’t until he felt a steady flow of water on his hands that he opened his eyes and looked down to see the sink overflowing with water. He hurried to turn off the faucet and grab a towel to dry himself and the floor. How long had the water been pouring onto the tile for? Long enough, he thought. Long enough for him to forget where he was. Long enough to remember everything else.

Beomgyu left his bathroom and moved around his apartment as he collected his things, checking items off of his mental list as he saw them. Keys, work bag, phone . When Beomgyu reached to grab his travel mug, he caught sight of one particular photo on the landing in the kitchen. One photo which left him paralyzed, immediately melting away the regular-guy-facade he so carefully crafted that morning while getting ready for work. Any false cheerfulness Beomgyu wore on his face was washed away at the sight of the photo of Soobin. First the toothbrush, now this? It was just too much. 

Beomgyu fully intended to go into work today. He even got dressed for it—though the result was, without question, the worst outfit he had ever assembled. A crime against fabric. A mismatch of colors and textures so egregious, even he had to pause in front of the mirror and wince. Despite this, he chose to work from home today, something he often did when he couldn’t stand the thought of going outside, a phenomenon he had been experiencing more and more recently. After what happened, his boss gave him the option to continue working in person or switch to a job in the company that would allow him to work remotely. Beomgyu opted to continue on with his position, but work from home when he wanted to anyway. He couldn’t comprehend the thought of learning how to do an entirely new job, not now anyway. Was he even allowed to do this? Not really, but the thought of getting fired for breaking company policy didn’t really phase him anymore. Things could not possibly get any worse. It was probably best that he worked from home most days anyway, as when he did go in, he mimicked that of an office ghost, never seen nor heard, but always carrying a heavy presence. 

Beomgyu abandoned his travel mug and went to sit down at the desk in his guest room. He felt so stupid for thinking he could act like any old regular guy going to work on a Thursday. Nothing about his life was regular or normal anymore. Some days were easier than others. Some days, he could pretend everything was normal, that the decor and the pictures and the memorabilia stationed in various parts of the apartment didn't bother him. But other days were similar to this one — days where the decor became shrines of a relationship of the past . Beomgyu knew he couldn't handle being outside of the bubble his apartment had become, but avoiding Soobin's memory was becoming an impossible task, and staying inside all day did nothing to combat that. He made a pointed effort to look down as he moved around his apartment, avoiding basically everything in the small space. 

All he had to do was get through the day, finish up his tasks, and then he could wallow in self pity for as long as he wanted to. But his job wasn’t particularly interesting, and he never had a good attention span, and he allowed himself to look around the room he was working from instead of the emails flooding his inbox. His workspace was in his guest room, so there weren’t any photos of him and his boyfriend hanging around, Soobin thought it might be odd to have lovey-dovey photos of them watching their guests. Thank you, Soobin. The walls mostly housed some pretty basic decor, a painting here or there. Above the desk, however, were two diplomas: one for Beomgyu, and one for Soobin. They were hung side by side in ornate gold frames, proudly displaying their accomplishments of completing university. 

He scoffed. Are you kidding? He felt suffocated. He couldn’t do anything without being reminded of Soobin. He worked so hard to try and live a normal life today, just go to work and be cool, that’s all he had to do. Typical, typical Beomgyu, he scoffed and shook his head at his own stupidity. He thought he could be a regular guy for a day. Why should he get a break? Why should he forget? No matter how badly he wanted to be, he wasn’t a regular guy. He could never escape this constant feeling of reliving those days over, and over, and over again. With every mention of Soobin’s name, or the sight of his photos, or his stuff that still had not been packed up, Beomgyu got reminded of the hell his life turned into; he began to spiral. Beomgyu felt hot tears run down his cheeks at his thoughts. It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way, they were supposed to live every day together forever and ever. Beomgyu dreamed of a life that was so different from what he got. He yearned for the chance to move on, but he just can’t. Moving on would mean abandoning and forgetting about Soobin, and that was something he was unwilling to do.

And so, Beomgyu wiped away his tears, took a few minutes to collect himself, and continued typing away on his keyboard, pretending to be a regular guy.

——————————————

Beomgyu and Soobin spent nearly all their time together. When they weren’t in class, they could always be found glued to the other. They spent their mornings together at one of their apartments before heading out to class, typically met up for lunch before their final classes of the day, hung around the coffee shop for an hour or two, then headed back to one of their apartments for dinner, where they would spend the rest of their evenings in each other’s company before falling asleep in the same bed. Their lives quickly became very domestic, as they were always aware of what the other was doing in the unlikely event of separation. It was as if they didn’t exist without each other, and they wouldn’t have it any other way. 

On this particular evening, Beomgyu was laid out on Soobin’s couch with his laptop in his lap, typing angrily as he raced against the clock to finish his last assignment before the start of spring break. Soobin, on the other hand, had finished his assignments days prior, and was sitting on the floor at the coffee table across from Beomgyu, searching through available jobs that he could apply for. This was very typical for them; Beomgyu on the couch, Soobin on the floor. Soobin insisted on letting Beomgyu take the couch despite it being his couch and his apartment, always droning on about how he enjoyed sitting on the hardwood floor. Beomgyu knew it was a load of shit, as Soobin always walked with a stiff form after being in the same spot on the floor for hours, but he appreciated his boyfriend’s sweet gesture and knew better than to argue with him. How kind of him, allowing himself to be in pain so Beomgyu could be comfortable and lay down on the couch. And what a Soobin thing to do, always prioritizing Beomgyu. He was so sweet.

Beomgyu slammed his laptop shut and tossed it to the side, promptly sitting up in one swift motion. “Done!” he cheered, raising his arms above his head, pumping his fists with a goofy grin plastered on his face. 

Soobin looked up from his spot on the floor and smiled. “Good job, Beomgyu, I knew you could do it!” He got onto his knees and shuffled toward Beomgyu, and extended his arms before pulling him flush against his chest in a tight hug. Beomgyu grinned even wider at Soobin’s action, and he wrapped his arms around him and pulled in impossibly closer. The two stayed like this for a while, and eventually Soobin pulled away, but not before pressing a soft kiss onto Beomgyu’s forehead. Beomgyu felt his cheeks heat up at this; Soobin always knew how to make him blush. 

“You know, I’m gonna miss this next year,” Soobin sighed. He turned so that his back was pressed against Beomgyu’s legs and sat down on the floor in front of him. He couldn’t see the way Beomgyu’s smile dropped from his face, or the way the color drained from his cheeks at the reminder that he would be graduating soon, which meant he would be leaving Beomgyu all alone. 

Beomgyu knew this would happen eventually. After all, this was part of the territory that came with dating someone older than him. But no amount of time could have prepared him for this. He spent years doing literally everything with Soobin, and now he was expected to just let him go and continue living without him? It didn’t make any sense. How could the universe be so cruel? At least he still had a few more months before graduation, and all of summer. After that he would be forced to give Soobin up to the real world. He was going to pretend and hold onto him for as long as possible. 

Eventually Beomgyu responded with a quiet “yeah, me too.” He threaded his hand through Soobin’s thick hair and looked down at his face. Soobin’s eyes were fluttering shut at the feeling of Beomgyu’s hands in his hair, it was his favorite thing he did. Beomgyu scooted closer to the edge of the couch and slightly spread his legs, allowing Soobin’s back to rest against the couch between them. His head lulled slightly to the side, his temple resting against Beomgyu’s thigh. Soobin let out a deep sigh and Beomgyu wondered what he was thinking about. Of course the two had talked about his future plans, as Soobin didn’t want to make any major decisions without Beomgyu, always telling him “whatever I do I want you to be there too, eventually,” but they hardly ever talked about how they felt about their impending separation. Beomgyu knew Soobin was excited to start his career, but he couldn’t help but wonder if Soobin was as nervous about leaving as he was. 

“Do you want to see some of the jobs I’m looking at?” Soobin’s words pulled Beomgyu out of his thoughts. He hadn’t realized his gaze shifted away from his boyfriend, as he was now staring at the wall. He refocused and looked at Soobin who was looking back at him with the purest expression he’s ever seen. Beomgyu nodded and Soobin leaned forward to grab his laptop before returning to his position on the floor. 

Beomgyu leaned forward to see the screen better, and let his arms drape over Soobin’s shoulders and his head rest atop his as well. Soobin scrolled through endless pages, informing Beomgyu of all the different benefits and mission statements each company had to offer, but Beomgyu could only focus on one detail.

“Wait, are all these jobs in the city?” Beomgyu asked, accidentally interrupting Soobin mid-sentence.

“Yeah, I um,” Soobin started slowly. “I figured there would be more opportunities there than here, I mean, I want to work for a successful company, and most of those have offices in the city.” Suddenly Soobin was avoiding eye contact. Beomgyu really didn’t know what to feel. He thought Soobin would be staying somewhat local, but the city? He remembered Soobin mentioning it a few times, but he never thought Soobin would actually go. Logistically, how would that even work? There were plenty of jobs nearby that Soobin could apply for, then in a year when Beomgyu graduates, the two of them could move to the city together. 

“But, the city is hours away,” Beomgyu responded in a quiet tone. “When will we see each other?”

“We can make it work, I promise. I can visit on weekends, and you can come stay with me over breaks, we can find a way, Beomgyu,” Soobin looked back at him with a reassuring smile. Beomgyu began to grow nervous at the thought of Soobin being in the city without him. Who was he supposed to hang out with if Soobin wasn’t there? They had only spent the past two years with each other, nobody else, he didn’t have any other friends. Was Soobin even considering Beomgyu’s situation at all?

Beomgyu felt somewhat betrayed, which he knew was ridiculous. This was Soobin’s future they were talking about. This mattered so much more than his silly attachments. He knew he had to be supportive, no matter what. So, he gave Soobin a smile and ruffled his hair. “Of course we can,” he said. “We can do anything.” Soobin returned the younger’s smile and turned back to face his laptop.

“Now, tell me about those starting salaries, I know you can’t be this smart and not get a nice check to match,” Beomgyu joked, and he tried to ignore the pit forming in his stomach.

——————————————

The day of Soobin’s graduation was one of the best acting performances Beomgyu has ever put on. If his career in marketing failed, he could consider becoming an actor. Beomgyu sat in the stands with Soobin’s family, his parents, his aunt, and his cousins. When Soobin’s name was called and he walked across the stage, the group cheered, shouting praises at him, and Beomgyu just clapped, worried that if he attempted to yell for his boyfriend, he might wail out a cry instead. Soobin looked out into the crowd with a wide smile plastered on his face and his head held high, and Beomgyu felt so guilty watching him. Here Soobin was, graduating with a degree he worked tirelessly for and all he could think about is how he’ll be leaving soon. 

After the ceremony Beomgyu waited with Soobin’s family for the graduates to walk outside. Beomgyu stood between Yeonjun, one of Soobin’s cousins whom he had just met, and a woman who he presumed to be Yeonjun’s mother. She was a rather odd woman, Beomgyu found her to be ridiculous quite frankly, and she wore a large Kentucky Derby style hat; it had a large, round brim with colorful flowers poking out of every part of the crown. This hat was so large that Beomgyu worried if she moved without his knowledge, he would get hit in the head. It was comically large, honestly. How could this possibly be the woman who birthed Yeonjun? They had only just met, but he seemed cool, maybe a bit odd too, but way cooler than his weirdo, hat-loving mother. They sat next to each other during the ceremony as well, so they had the opportunity to talk and get to know the basics about each other. Beomgyu knew enough to determine that Yeonjun was probably totally normal. 

Before Beomgyu could mentally bully this woman any longer, Soobin and the other graduates appeared, which redirected his attention. The group waved Soobin over, and he still wore that same smile he had during the ceremony. 

Soobin did his rounds, hugging everyone, accepting their congratulations, and thanking them for coming. He started with his parents, then worked his way down the line to Yeonjun’s mother. 

“Oh Soobin,” she began, and Beomgyu rolled his eyes. “I’m just so proud of you, you’ve worked so hard for this. Come, give me a hug!” She cried, and extended her arms to Soobin. 

Oh, this oughtta be good , Beomgyu thought as he watched the scene play out. Soobin stepped closer to the woman and she embraced him, but not without knocking her big ass hat against his face. Soobin had to have been at least a foot taller than this woman, could she not have foreseen this happening and taken the hat off maybe? Beomgyu thought she must be too stupid to think of something like that. He mocked her in his head, oh Soobin, I’m just sooooooo proud of you! Get a grip, lady!

Beomgyu found himself growing jealous of Soobin’s aunt as she continued to shout praises at him, all while squeezing him so tight the poor boy could barely speak. He should be the one praising him, not some rotund old lady with bad taste in headwear! Beomgyu mentally spat at her, the thought never occurring to him that maybe he was channeling some unresolved feelings about the situation into his newfound hatred for hats and aunts. Why did he feel in competition with this woman?

Soobin managed to break loose from the shackles of his aunt’s embrace and continued down the line to him. Beomgyu looked at him as Soobin stepped closer to him, awaiting his next move. 

Beomgyu snaked his arms around Soobin and looked up at him. “Congtratulations, Soobin,” he spoke softly and smiled at his boyfriend. Soobin smiled back at him and gave him a swift kiss on the lips, returning the hug and pulling Beomgyu closer. His hugs were much gentler with Beomgyu than with any other family member, as always.

“Thank you, Beomgyu,” Soobin replied, voice equally as quiet as the other’s. The two hugged for a bit longer, not saying anything else, not really needing to either. It felt comfortable. Their hug was broken by Yeonjun grabbing Soobin’s shoulder, wanting to get his attention to wish him congratulations as well. 

“Hey, congrats man!” Yeonjun shouted, giving Soobin a tight hug that resembled the one his mother gave out not three minutes ago. “I’m super happy for you, you got your degree, and I even got to talk to Beomgyu a bit during the ceremony! Good guy, nice work Soobin!” Yeonjun turned and winked at Beomgyu and he immediately felt better. 

“I heard he’s taking you on a trip or something? Where are you going again?” Yeonjun asked.

“Beomgyu’s taking me to see the Aurora Borealis,” Soobin replied, putting his arm around Beomgyu. “You know, since I love astrology and all that.”

Before Yeonjun could open his mouth to respond, his mother butted herself into the triangle, needing to make her opinion known.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. Here we go, Beomgyu thought. “Oh Soobin, Beomgyu is taking you to see the Aurora Borealis?”

“Yes he is,” Soobin nodded. “We’re leaving before I move to the city.”

“Boys, that is wonderful!” she just kept on going. “What a great gift, he must know you so well! You’ve been wanting to go there for years, I don’t know why I didn’t think to take you there! Beomgyu, you are such a caring young man!”

Suddenly Beomgyu felt better about the whole situation. Despite mentally antagonizing this woman to no avail for the whole day, Beomgyu felt no remorse for his thoughts. In fact, he felt vindicated. 

“Thank you so much, I’d do anything for Soobin, really,” he smiled at her before putting both his arms around Soobin. Whatever made-up competition Beomgyu had created between the two of them had ceased, because he clearly won, and the old hat-lover admitted it herself. Beomgyu was once again two steps ahead of her.

——————————————

Beomgyu’s most dreaded day had finally arrived. He stood in the doorway, the city’s noise buzzing faintly behind him, and watched Soobin lower the final box onto the hardwood floor of his new apartment. Beomgyu took a moment to scan the space; his gaze followed the sunlight which peaked through the tall windows, casting long golden lines across the room. The space was empty but full of promise—new beginnings often felt that way. He was excited for Soobin, really, but any positivity he had was swallowed by his own feelings of abandonment. 

Soobin turned toward Beomgyu and put his hand on top of one of the boxes. “This one,” he said with a small smile, “is my Beomgyu box.”

Beomgyu tilted his head, curious. “I’m sorry, your what?”

“It’s got all the weird little things,” Soobin continued. “You know, memorabilia from our dates, all the socks you’ve left at my apartment, stuff I may have stolen from you just to keep you close when we were apart.” He chuckled, then shrugged, suddenly bashful. “I don’t know. I kept everything.” Soobin grabbed the box and held the box out in front of him. “Here, look through it.”

Beomgyu’s throat tightened. He hadn’t brought anything but muscle and a good playlist for the drive. He hadn’t expected this. He stepped closer, looking down at the box like it’s something sacred. “I didn’t know you were holding onto all that.”

“I didn’t want to forget,” Soobin said softly. “Even if… even if things change.”

Beomgyu nodded, eyes stinging. They already had changed. In the two years they had been together, Beomgyu and Soobin spent all their time together, aside from classes of course. They practically lived together. To go from seeing each other every day to once every few weeks… that was a big change for them. Beomgyu needed Soobin with him. How would he stay organized on his own?

He took the lid off the box and sifted through its contents. It was mostly papers and photos, various artifacts from previous dates, and a collection of Beomgyu’s socks. Soobin even included the matching keychains they bought on their trip to the Aurora Borealis one month earlier, and of course, the photo of the two of them embraced in a hug, in which Soobin is wearing Beomgyu’s least favorite article of clothing. Beomgyu looked up at Soobin and raised his eyebrow at the sight of it. Two items stood out among the box’s items, though. Beomgyu grasped them quickly.

“Erm… are these forks?”

Soobin and Beomgyu stared at each other. 

“...maybe.” Soobin turned redder by the second. 

“Why do you have forks?” Beomgyu asked. “Isn’t that kind of gross… and unsanitary?” He examined the forks a bit closer. “Ew, Soobin, did you even wash these before putting them in here?”

“Okay, wait, no, there is an explanation for this.” Suddenly, Soobin felt the need to defend himself. “Yes, I did wash these forks so yes, them having a place in this box is sanitary, thank you, Mr. Health Inspector,” Soobin bowed toward Beomgyu, clearly poking fun at his comments. “These aren’t just any forks, these forks are from our favorite café on campus. After our first date, you know, when I organized your calendar for you, I went back and I got two forks as a keepsake. It is not weird, it is in fact very romantic.” Soobin nodded his head in satisfaction.

Beomgyu’s smile grew wide at Soobin’s explanation for his actions. He truly was a sentimental man. The perfect boyfriend. Still, he found himself wanting to poke more fun at him. Instead, pushes the box to the side and embraces Soobin in a tight hug. He smiled into his chest and said, “Thanks for keeping me.”

Then, with a final squeeze of Soobin’s shoulders, Beomgyu turned to go unpack a box in the kitchen, heart heavy and full all at once.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Beomgyu’s final year at university had been marked by a quiet ache—a loneliness that had settled in the corners of every day. Without Soobin by his side, campus had felt a little colder, the days a little longer. It had been hard without Soobin there with him. Soobin visited when he could, not as often as Beomgyu would have liked, but he understood that Soobin was technically a functioning member of society now. Travel took time and money, and Beomgyu didn’t dare complain.

But if it had been up to him, he would have been on a train every weekend to be with Soobin. Whenever he went out to the city to see Soobin, he felt like he was going home. University didn’t feel like home anymore. Maybe it never really had. After all, Beomgyu’s home had always been by Soobin’s side. He cherished the time they got to spend together, and he clung tightly to the hours they had, storing them like sunlight in winter. But every evening at 8:30 p.m., something shifted. The phone rang, and for a little while, the distance between them disappeared.

They had built a routine—sacred, in its own way. Through the hum of the call, they folded laundry in sync, stirred pasta at the same time, wiped down kitchen counters as if they were sharing the same space. Even dinner was eaten together—a world apart but somehow closer than ever. Beomgyu did homework with the soft clicks of Soobin’s keyboard in the background as he replied to emails. It had been the only way Soobin could ensure Beomgyu got any work done without him watching over his shoulder.

One night, as the familiar rhythm of their call hummed in the background—Beomgyu sorting through notes, Soobin sipping tea—there was a pause. A gentle, thoughtful kind of silence.

“Have you thought about where you want to go after graduation?” Soobin asked, his voice soft, almost casual.

Beomgyu didn’t look up from his notebook, but he smiled faintly. “Yeah. I’ve been applying to jobs in the city. Figured it made the most sense.”

There was a beat. Then Soobin said, “Would you want to move in with me?”

Everything is still. Beomgyu’s pen stopped mid-word. His heart stumbled, then soared.

He didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” he said, the word coming out with a breath of laughter. “Yes, absolutely.”

On the other end, Soobin chuckled quietly, the kind of laugh that carried relief, joy, and something else—something like home.

They sat in that quiet, glowing moment, the distance between them feeling smaller than ever. The future, for the first time in a long time, didn’t feel so far away.

——————————————

Beomgyu called Soobin just after noon, his hands still trembling slightly from the weight of the news and the excitement of getting to talk to Soobin. The moment Soobin answered, Beomgyu couldn't hold back the smile in his voice.

“Hello, my love,” Soobin greeted calmly. “You caught me just in time for my lunch break, what’s up?”

“Oh, perfect timing!” Beomgyu replied, pretending like he didn’t have Soobin’s work schedule memorized. “Hey, so do you remember a few months ago when I was applying to a bunch of jobs in the city? Well, I heard back from one of the marketing firms.”

Soobin gasped. “I’m assuming this is good news since you’re acting all suspenseful.” Beomgyu rolled his eyes, he was clearly being clowned. Can’t a guy have a little fun around here?

“You’re no fun,” he pouted then let out a deep sigh. “I got the job. In the city, with you. And I’m signing the lease this afternoon.” Beomgyu couldn’t hold back the tears that welled up in his eyes. His dream, their dream, came true. Beomgyu knew early on that Soobin was the one for him. He longed for the day that they could begin their next chapter together. That day had finally come. 

There was a pause on the other end—just long enough to make Beomgyu’s heart stutter—before Soobin let out a laugh, full of joy and something deeper. "You're really doing it?" Soobin asked.

Beomgyu nodded, even though Soobin couldn’t see. "Yeah. I’m moving. We’re really doing this."

All Beomgyu heard was the sound of Soobin cheering through the phone. “Alright, I’ll sign my portion of the lease this afternoon as well, just text me once you’re finished with it and I’ll go down to the apartment myself to tell them we’re moving in. And hey, should we start looking at furniture seriously? I’ve already bookmarked a few pieces but I really want your opinion on them before I make a move.” Soobin rambled on and on, too excited at the prospect of his boyfriend joining him in the city to notice how long he had been talking for. And Beomgyu just laughed. He was so in love with Soobin, and Soobin was in love with him. 

It had been the hardest year of his life. Everything felt like it was shifting beneath his feet—Soobin was there, then he wasn’t. Beomgyu didn’t respond well to change. He never had. He thrived in structure yet always struggled to build and maintain it himself. His first year in university was so difficult to balance until Soobin came along. Throughout university, Soobin was his constant, the one who kept him stable, kept him going. His presence was solid and dependable. Soobin was his rock. When classes got overwhelming, when deadlines piled up, Soobin had been there. Always steady, always sure. The rhythm Beomgyu could depend on when the world felt too out of sync. 

But it was finally coming to a close.

The long, uncertain days, the quiet ache of missing Soobin, the constant effort to hold himself together—they were nearing their end. The finish line was in sight, and for the first time in a long time, Beomgyu felt like he could exhale. The chapter that had tested him in every possible way was almost over.

There was relief in that thought, but also something quieter—something like gratitude. As much as this year had broken him down, it had also shown him what mattered most. Through every stumble, every late night spent alone, every call that pulled him back from the edge, Soobin had remained. And now, with graduation around the corner and the lease nearly signed, the life they had dreamed about was starting to feel real.

The hardest year of his life was ending. And what came next finally looked like hope. The city didn’t feel so big anymore, and the future, once a blur of unknowns, started to take shape with clarity and warmth. Because at the center of it all was Soobin. The job, the lease, the move—it all pointed back to him. To late-night phone calls and shared silence, to laughter in separate kitchens and love that had stretched but never broken.

The future wasn’t some distant, untouchable thing. It was here, close enough to feel.

Just two people, finding their way home to each other.

And when Beomgyu graduated that May, the very next day he was moving in with Soobin. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The sun was just beginning to set by the time Beomgyu stepped out of the corner store, a small paper bag tucked under his arm—pasta, a jar of sauce, a bunch of basil he'd grabbed on a whim, and the cheap bottle of red wine that had somehow become their go-to. The air was warm with that early summer closeness, the kind that stuck to the back of his neck and slowed his pace. He walked the familiar six blocks home, keys ready in hand, the weight of the day already softening with each step toward their little apartment.

It had been a year of Soobin and Beomgyu living together and every evening was like the one before. They established a routine very early on in their life together: Beomgyu would pick up groceries for their dinner on the way home from work, they would cook dinner together, and eat together. Then they would move to the couch to watch a movie to close out the evening.

The front door clicked open into a space that smelled faintly of eucalyptus and old books, lit only by the gold-pink light of dusk coming through the window. Beomgyu stepped in with a casual, “Hey, babe,” as he kicked his shoes off and placed his keys in their designated spot by the front door. He was surprised to see Soobin’s keys already hung, as Beomgyu always returned home first. He rounded the corner into the living room. 

Soobin was curled up on the couch in silence, arms wrapped around a throw pillow, eyes shut tightly, his brow creased.

Beomgyu paused. “Hey… you okay?”

Soobin didn’t answer right away. His voice came a second later, tight and muted. “Migraine.”

Beomgyu nodded slowly, his own temples twinging in empathy. He knew the kind—blinding, nauseating, impossible to think through. “Shit. How bad?”

Soobin didn’t respond. He just gave the smallest shake of his head, which Beomgyu knew wasn’t a no, but more of a “don’t talk, please.”

He set the groceries down quietly and walked into the bedroom to grab the extra blackout curtain they sometimes used on weekends when they slept in. With practiced ease, he pinned it over the living room window, darkening the space. Then he went to the kitchen, grabbed a cold pack from the freezer, and wrapped it in one of Soobin’s softest t-shirts before returning to the couch.

Soobin barely moved, but when Beomgyu knelt beside him and gently pressed the cold bundle against his forehead, Soobin let out a breath—part relief, part exhaustion.

“Do you want to move to the bed?” Beomgyu whispered.

Soobin opened one eye a sliver and shook his head again. “Couch is fine.”

Beomgyu nodded. “Okay. I’ll make some tea. Ginger and honey?”

This time Soobin gave a faint thumbs-up. He hadn’t eaten, Beomgyu realized. Dinner could wait.

The kettle hissed in the background as Beomgyu moved quietly around the kitchen. Their apartment wasn’t big—650 square feet, if that—but it was theirs. The worn wood floors creaked in the same places every night, and the kitchen light buzzed faintly, like it always had, despite his promises to replace it.

He brought the tea over, set it carefully on the coffee table, then returned with a cool damp cloth for Soobin’s neck. With the lights low and a pillow tucked behind his partner’s shoulders, Soobin began to settle, his breathing slower, more even.

Beomgyu sat beside him, one leg tucked under himself, reaching gently to brush Soobin’s hair back from his damp forehead. “You want me to just sit here?”

A barely audible murmur: “Yeah.”

So he stayed. He didn’t turn on the TV, didn’t even pick up his phone. He just sat, sometimes watching the fading light move across the wall, sometimes watching Soobin breathe.

By the time the tea had cooled and the room was nearly dark, Soobin stirred. “You didn’t eat?”

“Nah. Not hungry yet.” He gave Soobin’s hand a squeeze. “I’ll heat up something later. You just rest.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t.” The reply came instantly, gently. “Don’t ever be sorry for being human.”

Soobin’s lips curved the smallest bit at the corner—an echo of his usual smile—and he closed his eyes again, this time not from pain, but from peace.

Later that night, once the migraine had dulled enough for Soobin to sit up and sip the tea, Beomgyu reheated some of the pasta he’d cooked alone. They ate together on the couch in silence, sharing a single bowl between them, passing it back and forth with wordless understanding. The movie they usually watched was replaced by quiet music. Beomgyu thought it sounded like spa music, but Soobin appreciated the softness. 

And when they finally turned in, brushing their teeth side by side, Soobin leaned into Beomgyu’s shoulder just a little, and Beomgyu let his head rest against Soobin’s for a moment longer than usual.

It had been a different kind of night. But their rhythm held steady—tuned not to routine alone, but to each other.

——————————————

Their alarm went off at 6:45 the next morning, just like it always did. The soft chime barely pierced the quiet of the bedroom, but Beomgyu was already awake, lying still, watching the way the early light sifted in through the slats of the blinds. Soobin stirred beside him, groaning softly as he blinked into the day. Beomgyu turned his head, eyes meeting Soobin’s. There was a softness there, the kind that came from shared years and easy familiarity.

“Better?” Beomgyu whispered.

Soobin nodded, voice still scratchy. “Yeah. Mostly gone.”

Beomgyu smiled. “Coffee?”

Soobin mumbled something that could have been “please” or just a grateful sound. It didn’t matter—Beomgyu was already up, pulling on the same old gray hoodie he wore most mornings.

In the kitchen, the floor was cool under his feet. He started the coffee without thinking. Two mugs. Two milks and two sugars in Soobin’s. One spoon of sugar in his own. While the coffee brewed, he packed their lunches: leftovers from the pasta, some fruit, and a few of the oat bars Soobin liked. He tossed in a note, as he did maybe once a week—something dumb like "You survived the headache, now survive your inbox."

By the time Soobin shuffled in, hair rumpled, wearing one of Beomgyu’s oversized t-shirts that of course was tight on him, the apartment smelled like warmth and waking up. They sat together at the table, chairs angled slightly so their knees brushed. They didn’t talk much in the mornings, they felt like they didn’t need to—some couples filled the air with chatter, but Beomgyu and Soobin had found a quiet rhythm that suited them.

Work came and went. They texted now and then, mostly to send a meme or two and complain about traffic. A “What should we do for dinner?” that usually ended in “whatever’s easiest.” They weren’t flashy. No wild nights out, no big travel plans. But their evenings, those were sacred.

Beomgyu always got home first. On Thursdays, he stopped by the bakery if he had time and picked up a baguette or a slice of something sweet. When Soobin came in half an hour later, he’d already be chopping vegetables or stirring something on the stove.

They passed each other in the small kitchen like dancers—one stepping aside so the other could open a drawer, brushing fingers as they handed off utensils, sharing small kisses in the spaces between boiling water and simmering sauce. Sometimes they talked about their days. Sometimes they didn’t. Sometimes they just played music and moved in sync, side by side at the stove, content in the quiet.

After dinner, they curled up on the couch again. Sometimes a movie, sometimes a show. Sometimes just silence, with legs tangled and a shared blanket, both of them reading separate books but touching at the knees or the shoulder. Soobin’s head would eventually tilt onto Beomgyu’s chest, or Beomgyu would fall asleep with his arm draped across Soobin’s waist.

They never called it exciting. They didn’t need to. It was steady. Warm. Honest.

They had built something together—not grand, not dramatic—but deeply good. A life of inside jokes and leftover containers labeled in code, of grocery lists scribbled on the back of receipts, of sleepy forehead kisses and shared sinks and laundry folded in companionable silence.

And the best part?

They never got tired of it. Every night held something familiar. Every morning felt like a small continuation of a quiet promise. It was ordinary. It was beautiful.

And they wouldn’t trade it for anything.

——————————————

Five Years.

It wasn’t extravagant, not by most standards. No plane tickets, no hotel bookings, no grand surprises. Just two tickets to the planetarium downtown—one of those old dome-topped places with squeaky seats and a soft-voiced narrator who guided visitors through galaxies with awe and hush.

The pair decided to keep it simple for their anniversary this year. Soobin’s migraines had become more and more frequent, and he worried at the thought of going out of town for too long. The planetarium was the perfect spot for them. Beomgyu had booked their tickets a week in advance. Soobin packed a small thermos of hot cocoa and two homemade muffins in his bag, “just in case,” though they both knew they'd probably end up sneaking bites in the car after. He knew better than to go on a date with Beomgyu without bringing snacks. 

They arrived a little early, hands tucked into each other’s coat pockets, the winter chill settling over the city like a quilt. The air was crisp, and the sky above already darkening to a soft navy, the first stars just starting to peek through. Inside the planetarium, everything smelled faintly of dust and old carpet—familiar, comforting. They found seats near the center of the dome, the best spot to feel like you were floating. Soobin reached over, lacing his fingers through Beomgyu’s as the lights dimmed and the artificial night sky began to bloom above them.

The show began: a journey through constellations, myths, planets, and the music of the spheres. Nebulae drifted slowly overhead. Saturn’s rings spun in perfect silence. And when the full moon rose across the dome—breathtaking in its gentle white glow—Soobin turned toward Beomgyu, smiling in the dark.

“You remember our first kiss?” he whispered, the words nearly lost in the soft music.

Beomgyu chuckled. “Under that same moon. At the park next to the university.”

“It was our one-month anniversary,” Soobin said, shaking his head. “And I was eight minutes late. I was so sure you thought I stood you up.”

“Oh not only were you eight minutes late, but you were also wearing that hideous striped sweater,” Beomgyu shot back, nudging him playfully. “I would’ve been fine with you being late if you weren’t wearing that old thing.”

Soobin frowned. “That’s my favorite sweater!”

“I can’t believe you still have it!” Beomgyu laughed. “I mean, how has it not disintegrated in the washing machine by now.” 

Soobin turned away with exaggerated drama, clutching his chest like a silent film actor. “I can’t believe I’m being slandered on our anniversary.”

Beomgyu just smiled, his heart full. He remembered that night perfectly—how Soobin had planned every detail. A short walk through the flurry-covered paths, then a moonlit picnic that felt like it had been stolen from a novel. Apple pie. Soft touches. Nervous laughter. Their knees touching beneath the blanket. A kiss that tasted like new beginnings.

After that, the moon became theirs.

There were dozens of moonlight picnics over the years—on rooftops, on park benches, on blankets in empty fields just outside the city. Cold sandwiches, shared desserts, cheap wine drunk from mugs. Sometimes they talked for hours. Sometimes they just listened to the wind. Every time, the moon kept them company.

Back in the planetarium, the show drew to a close with a slow zoom-out from Earth—a glowing marble floating in endless dark. The narrator’s voice spoke of scale, of wonder, of how small we are and how beautiful that can be. The lights slowly rose.

Soobin leaned in again. “Still my favorite way to see the stars.”

Beomgyu smiled and squeezed his hand. “Mine too.”

They walked out under the real night sky, a little colder now, a little quieter. Stars blinked above, the moon a soft beacon overhead. They sat in the car with the windows cracked, sipping cocoa and splitting the muffins between them. They didn’t rush to go home. There was no need. They had all the time in the world.

And five years into a life built on ordinary days and small, perfect nights, they still looked at each other like the world was brand new.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The coffee shop down the block from their apartment was always Soobin and Beomgyu’s favorite spot to spend their weekends. It was a pattern they had established since their time in university. It was fitting for them. For Beomgyu and Soobin, getting coffee was never just about caffeine. It was a ritual, a quiet act of love. It marked the beginning of their story, the place where they first met, flirted, and fell. Over the years, it became their constant: a grounding thread through exams, jobs, arguments, and quiet mornings. Coffee shops were a place where they could just be Beomgyu and Soobin. Beomgyu and Soobin who had their first date over coffee and Beomgyu’s absolute mess of a planner. Beomgyu and Soobin who liked to split a piece of pie. Beomgyu and Soobin who came to the coffee shop to reminisce on their days in university by watching young couples come and go.

They always sat at the corner table—the one by the foggy window, where the light spilled like warm milk across the surface. Beomgyu liked it because it felt a little tucked away, a bit separate from the buzz of the shop. Soobin liked it because it was where Beomgyu smiled most easily, stirring his coffee with one hand while the other rested, unthinking, on Soobin’s thigh beneath the table. They loved their little coffee shop, and they loved being there together. 

It was a Saturday. Cloudy, unambitious. The kind of day where even time moved slow.

“I’ll get it today,” Soobin had said, pressing a quick kiss to Beomgyu’s cheek before he stood. “Don’t even argue.” It was typical for the two to go back and forth over who would order their coffee. It was less about deciding who would do it, and more about the ritual, as Soobin was always the one to order for them. 

Beomgyu didn’t argue this time. He was too happy watching him walk toward the counter, hoodie slightly oversized, his hair bouncing with each step. Soobin had been tired lately. Always tired. But Beomgyu thought maybe it was just work. Or the weather. Or both. He’d asked once or twice, especially because Soobin’s migraines seemed to become more and more frequent, but Soobin had waved it off with that same half-smile that said don’t worry, love . So Beomgyu hadn’t.

He regretted that in the next breath.

Soobin was mid-sentence with the barista when he swayed, blinked hard, and then folded like paper. Soobin’s knees hit the floor first, the rest of his body following soon after. One moment upright, the next crumpled on the floor.

It took a second too long for Beomgyu to move. A woman gasped. Someone else shouted to call 911. But Beomgyu sat frozen, as though if he just willed time to rewind, he could make it not happen. He did not want this to happen. Eventually he stood, but remained close to the table in the corner, as if his ankles were shackled to the table. He watched as strangers flocked over to his boyfriend who laid on the floor, helpless on his front. Beomgyu’s vision began to thwart itself, and time felt suspended in mid-air. Why would Soobin just fall like that? He ate breakfast before we left, and he’s been drinking water, I think. Beomgyu felt more and more confused as he watched Soobin on the floor. The pit in his stomach hardened the longer Soobin laid on the floor, completely unmoving. What wasn’t he moving?

By the time he scrambled to Soobin’s side, a man in a flannel shirt had already rolled Soobin onto his back. Someone told Beomgyu he should check his pulse. He couldn’t move. His hands trembled as he knelt beside him, barely noticing the coffee on the floor or the way his own voice cracked when he said Soobin’s name, over and over. He couldn’t believe this was happening. What could have caused this?

The paramedics came quickly. Everything was happening so fast. He felt like he couldn’t keep up. Still, Beomgyu didn’t remember standing. Didn’t remember getting in the ambulance with Soobin on a stretcher. Only that somehow, when Soobin’s hand found his, he didn’t let go.

——————————————

Hours blurred at the hospital. This was not how Beomgyu wanted to spend their Saturday. He sat in the waiting room while Soobin underwent a plethora of testing. The doctors refused to allow Beomgyu to stay by Soobin’s side since the two weren’t married, and they insisted he would only be in the way. Apparently six years of dating meant nothing to these people. He waited anxiously for doctors and nurses to call out his name and bring him back to see Soobin. All he wanted to do was see him. At first, he would stand every time a doctor entered the waiting room, hoping, no, pleading they would be there to tell him everything was fine. But after a few hours of let-down, Beomgyu began to grasp the severity of the situation. He sat with his head in his hands, waiting, until an older nurse brought him to Soobin’s room. 

Soobin’s room was filled with people when he arrived. If Beomgyu didn’t know any better, he’d say Soobin was a celebrity. He looked around the room. A neurologist. An MRI scan. A cluster of grim-faced professionals. Soobin, of course, now awake in his bed. He hated seeing Soobin like this. He looked so small.

The word glioblastoma landed like a punch. Beomgyu’s stomach dropped. He felt his face heat up. “What does that even mean? No, seriously, what is that?” Beomgyu couldn't help but push back. Besides, Soobin was always perfectly healthy. He would have noticed if something was wrong with him. He knows him too well. “Because whatever that is sounds serious, and Soobin is fine.”

One of the doctors looked to Soobin, waited for him to nod, then to Beomgyu. “It’s an aggressive form of brain cancer.”

Beomgyu took a step back. He looked at Soobin, but he was calm. Too calm. As if this information wasn’t news to him. As if he’d known it before. Beomgyu immediately understood why that was.

“You knew?” Beomgyu asked, voice a rough whisper.

Soobin nodded. 

“Since when?”

“A while.”

“Jesus, Soobin, how long is a while?” Beomgyu knew his voice was getting louder.

“About a year,” Soobin looked at his lap, ashamed. “I didn’t want to scare you.”

“You’re dying , and you didn’t want to scare me?” Beomgyu approached Soobin and held his hand. He looked down at him and observed his form. Soobin wore a hospital gown and wristband. He seemed to be hooked up to numerous machines. What were all these machines even for? 

Soobin didn’t flinch. “I just… wanted more time with you without it being about this .” Soobin looked up at Beomgyu. His eyes were red and he looked tired. Beomgyu knew this wasn’t easy on him either. He was completely aware that Soobin withheld information about his declining health, which he was furious about. What do you mean you didn’t want to scare me? At what point are the bounds of Soobin’s selflessness too far? Hiding his own diagnosis to protect Beomgyu—he had a hard time accepting that. It was a classic Soobin move to put Beomgyu ahead of himself, but this was a bit too far. Beomgyu didn’t know what to feel. 

He opened his mouth then closed it. There were so many things he wanted to say right now. Should he cry? Yell? Fake it? He stared at Soobin for a while, then leaned forward and kissed his knuckles. Gently. “Okay,” he said. “Then we do this your way. But I’m staying.”

——————————————

Later, with the doctor, Soobin was clear: no chemo. No invasive treatments. Just medication. Just time. Soobin admitted that once the migraines coupled themselves with nausea and blurred vision, he went to a doctor. He underwent testing and scans all on his own. He had been suffering in silence for a year. Because of Beomgyu. Because he didn’t want to burden him. All Beomgyu felt was guilt. 

Beomgyu was confused by Soobin’s decisiveness but didn’t argue. He wanted to. He wanted to scream and fight and beg. But instead, he held Soobin’s hand and nodded slowly. Soobin had his diagnosis for a year already. He had been taking the medication for a year. Refusing chemotherapy and surgery for a year. How could I have missed this? He’s been taking medication right under my nose and I never once saw it? He couldn’t wrap his head around this. 

“You’re sure?” Beomgyu asked. “If you’ve been taking the medication and it hasn’t helped, then maybe chemo would be worth looking into.”

Soobin looked at him—really looked. “No, Beomgyu,” he was stern. “I’m not putting my body through that. I want to be home. With you. I want whatever time I have left to be… ours.”

Something broke in Beomgyu then. Not a loud crack, but a quiet splintering. A shift in how he breathed, how he would carry the days to come. He’d lost so much already. He would lose more.

But not yet. Not today .

So he gave Soobin a tight-lipped smile and whispered, “Okay. We go home.”

Soobin gave an affirmative nod. The pair just looked at each other and said nothing. Beomgyu couldn’t imagine what Soobin must be feeling right now. Probably something similar to his own feelings. Guilt. Shame. Sadness. Anger. None of this made sense. How could it possibly make sense? A world where Soobin was dying was not a world Beomgyu wanted to live in. 

It didn’t feel real. Even as he watched Soobin in the hospital bed, wristband, IVs and all, he didn’t believe it. Beomgyu couldn’t stop asking himself how they got here. Call it denial or immaturity, but Beomgyu refused to believe this was the scene he found himself in. They were supposed to be together forever. They were Beomgyu and Soobin. They were supposed to be counting their years together, not weeks.

He should’ve seen it coming. He should’ve taken Soobin’s migraines more seriously. Beomgyu had chalked it up to stress, maybe burnout. Nothing life-threatening. Nothing like this. Was he that selfish to not notice his own boyfriend suffering for a year? Was their relationship really all about him and not about them? Soobin’s words replayed in his mind. “I didn’t want to scare you.” Was he that much of a fucking baby that his own boyfriend felt the need to hide his suffering to spare his own feelings? Beomgyu felt like an idiot. A selfish, ungrateful idiot. 

I am pathetic.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t cherish their shared moments together enough. Realistically, every date within the past year Soobin had cherished, possibly even more than any date they had before he received his diagnosis. Soobin cherished Beomgyu, and Beomgyu took Soobin for granted. He knew deep down that their love had nothing to do with this. Not loving Soobin enough didn’t cause him to get a brain tumor. And all of that aside, he loved him plenty. He loved him so much it hurt to be away from him. Their year apart in university was the worst year of his life, up until now. Obviously, this wasn’t Soobin’s fault. Nobody asks for this, it just happens to you. The easiest person to blame was himself. 

There was an ache in his chest, heavy and shapeless, not quite rage and not quite grief—at least not yet. It was the grief before the grief. The kind that lived in the waiting. Can you grieve someone who has not yet left you? Is it possible to miss something you haven’t lost? Beomgyu already felt like he lost Soobin, even though he could easily reach out and touch him. Maybe it wasn’t Soobin that he was grieving, but everything they had up until now. Things were going to change. Soobin was going to get weaker. He would probably have to quit his job. They would have to stop going to the coffee shop. They definitely couldn’t go back now, especially since the last time they were there Soobin lost consciousness. Oh, how are you two doing? Fine, thanks, he has an incurable brain tumor. Beomgyu used to say they were the luckiest people in the world. Lucky because they had each other and nothing could change that. How’s that for irony? 

And worst of all was the helplessness. He couldn’t fix it. He couldn’t fight it. He could only sit beside it. Hold Soobin’s hand through it. Smile and tell him everything was going to be okay. Watch the person he loved most in the world fade like light at the end of day—and pretend, for his sake, that he was strong enough to survive it.

Beomgyu didn’t feel strong. He felt like breaking. He felt the weight of Soobin’s diagnosis, the grief his parents must feel knowing their son is dying, the shame Soobin felt from keeping this a secret, and his own sadness knowing his favorite person was suffering. It was too much for him. Too much for one person to deal with alone. He wouldn’t dare let Soobin know he was in pain too. 

But he wouldn’t break. Not in front of Soobin.

For too long Beomgyu relied on Soobin to help him through anything and everything. Homework, laundry, paying their utilities on time. Soobin was his rock. His light. His knight in shining armor. The absolute love of his life. Beomgyu was uncertain about their future, but he knew it was time for him to step up. Soobin was selfless and would never ask for help. But he needed Beomgyu, and Beomgyu wanted to be needed. He didn’t want to be the person his boyfriend was scared of burdening. He wanted to take charge of Soobin’s diagnosis. He was going to help Soobin through this. They could do anything together. They’ve already been through so much. There wasn’t anything they couldn’t do together. He was determined. 

If time was slipping through their fingers, he’d hold on tighter. He’d memorize every breath, every laugh, every quiet moment they had left. He’d become the keeper of them—because when it was over, someone had to remember it all.

And if love couldn’t save Soobin, then at the very least, it could carry him the rest of the way home.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Soobin came home from the hospital like nothing had changed.

He padded around the apartment in the same slippers, brewed his morning coffee like he always had—two milks, two sugars. He responded to emails with his usual dry wit, added spinach to their grocery list, and even queued up a new playlist for their Sunday cleaning ritual. To him, nothing needed to change. He had been living with his diagnosis for a year already, and said he felt completely fine. 

For a while, Beomgyu let himself believe it too. That normal could still exist in the hollow left behind by that diagnosis. That time could be tricked, or at least slowed, by sheer will and routine. Soobin was strong-willed and stubborn, and Beomgyu had faith in him. But illness is patient. Quiet. It slips in slowly, settles into the bones.

Soobin’s hands started to ache first. He stopped typing as much. He put up a good fight, but he started dictating emails instead of answering them himself. Eventually, the laptop stayed shut on the coffee table, unopened for days. Then came the call to HR, the soft thank-you-for-everything, and the end of a short-lived career that had once made Soobin feel sharp, valuable. Real.

Beomgyu came home that day to find Soobin laid on the couch, staring at the ceiling fan. He was motionless. There was a half-prepped dinner on the counter, one that Beomgyu assumed Soobin began but had to stop because of his hands. When Beomgyu touched his shoulder, Soobin only said, “I always thought I’d leave that place on my own terms.” The pair had been going back and forth for a while about Soobin taking time off from work. 

“They can’t possibly expect you to work regular hours, Soobin, you have cancer,” Beomgyu would always start in.

“It’s not that they expect me to, it’s that I want to,” Soobin emphasized. “I don’t understand why nobody gets that. I’m still the same guy.”

Beomgyu knew leaving work was hard for him. Soobin was one of the few people in the world who genuinely enjoyed his job and career. It was his dream. And to have to give it up because your own body was failing you… Beomgyu teared up just thinking about it. 

“My hands, Beomgyu… they ache.” Soobin held his hands up and looked at Beomgyu. “I’m sorry I couldn’t finish dinner.”

“Don’t,” Beomgyu immediately shushed him. “It’s not a problem, I’ll take care of it.” He gave him a smile.

Soobin was fit, not the most athletic guy in the world, but fit enough to keep up with Beomgyu’s pace. He liked to jog after the rain, when the pavement smelled like dust and the city was washed clean. Eventually that stopped too. His knees couldn't keep up, so the pair began walking more and jogging less. Soon after, even walking a few blocks winded him. His body, once strong enough to carry them both through long days, became something delicate. Brittle. Soobin would never admit that he was in pain, but Beomgyu always knew. He would suggest they sit down on a bench in the park for a bit, or make some excuse to cut their walk short so that Soobin wouldn’t have to. That stopped as well, and Soobin finally admitted that he couldn’t do it anymore.

Beomgyu picked up the slack without hesitation. He cooked more. Cleaned. Organized the medication bottles into a little tray that sat next to the sugar jar. He pretended it was nothing. Taking care of Soobin was what kept him going. He would do anything for him. But his PTO was dwindling. Fast.

He didn’t tell anyone at work. Not because he was ashamed—certainly not because of that—but because saying it out loud would mean it was real. That Soobin, his Soobin, was dying. And Beomgyu wasn’t ready to let the world know he was already grieving someone who still shared his bed. The reality was, Beomgyu needed help taking care of Soobin. He couldn’t get around like he used to; most days he just sat on the sofa or on the chair in the bedroom. Soobin no longer had the stamina to cook for himself, he couldn’t administer his own medication anymore because it was too much to keep track of, and frankly, he didn’t move very much. 

Beomgyu reached out to Soobin’s family, finally, and in their vague, well-meaning way, they arranged for Yeonjun to help during the day. Yeonjun, the cousin who always seemed like he’d just stepped out of a film set or a bar at noon—nobody really knew what he did. Something with vintage film reels? Or was it street photography? Once he said he was “consulting,” but no one asked for what. The thought of Yeonjun coming to help take care of Soobin worried Beomgyu. They had only met once at Soobin’s university graduation, so his worries were based on assumption, but he seemed a bit unorganized, and Soobin needed structure.

Still, Yeonjun was warm and good with Soobin. He’d sit on the couch beside him, read aloud from dog-eared books, or bring him strange herbal teas from obscure shops. What neighborhood did he say he lived in again? Soobin seemed to enjoy his presence, if only because Yeonjun never pitied him, he just treated him like he was still here. Yeonjun’s presence allowed Beomgyu to return to work during the daytime. They had a daytime/nightime round-the-clock-care system going that seemed to work out just fine. Soobin was happy to spend time with both of them. 

Soobin tried to keep a smile throughout it all, but he was fading. It happened in pieces. Little things falling away. Soobin’s face grew narrow, his eyes more shadow than light. His hair, once thick and soft between Beomgyu’s fingers, thinned until it barely held shape. He wore sweaters even as summer approached, bones jutting through the fabric. Beomgyu noted how easily Soobin’s skin would bruise now. And the migraines were worse than ever. 

One night, as the city hummed faintly through the bathroom window, Beomgyu knelt by the tub and gently eased Soobin into the water. The bath was hot—steam curled in the air, clung to the mirror—but Soobin still shivered as if it were winter. His arms wrapped tightly around his knees, pulling them to his chest, his back arched like something trying to disappear into itself.

He had no muscles anymore. His shoulders, once solid and broad beneath Beomgyu’s hands, had narrowed to delicate angles. His arms were thin and birdlike, every bone visible beneath the pale stretch of skin. His chest rose and fell with effort now, ribs sharp, breath shallow. Even his thighs, which used to steady him in their morning jogs or press against Beomgyu’s under the covers, had wasted away, leaving only skin and shadow.

Beomgyu didn’t speak and tried not to stare. He reached for a washcloth, wrung it out slowly. He watched as water beaded down Soobin’s spine, over the ridges of his shoulder blades. There was nothing left of the man who once lifted him off the ground in fits of laughter, who used to hold him up when the world got too heavy.

Now Beomgyu held him.

And as Soobin trembled, eyes closed, face turned away, Beomgyu had the sudden, crushing realization that he was witnessing not just illness—but vanishing. A slow, irreversible erasure of the body he loved, and the person who had once filled it so completely.

Still, he washed him gently, as if Soobin were something breakable. Because he was. They were living on borrowed time. He’d always known. But as the days passed on, the clock ticked louder.

——————————————

Later that night, neither of them could sleep. The silence between them was full—not heavy, but soft, like fog. Soobin laid on his back in their bed, and Beomgyu laid on his chest. He played with the hem of Soobin’s sweater, not even bothering to make a comment about which one he’d chosen to wear that evening. 

“What do you think it’s all for?” Soobin asked suddenly, eyes on the ceiling. “All of this. Life.”

Beomgyu hesitated. He hated questions like that. Too big, too open-ended. He preferred things he could measure, solve. Normally he would play it off with some joke and change the subject. But Soobin’s voice had that tone again—not searching, not lost—just... curious.

“I don’t know,” Beomgyu said. “Sometimes I think it’s just about who we love. What we leave behind in them.”

Soobin smiled faintly. “That’s beautiful.”

He turned his head, slowly, and looked at Beomgyu.

“You should do more with your life,” he said. “When I’m gone, I mean. I know you don’t want to hear that. But you should.”

Beomgyu swallowed. “Don’t you think that’s a bit grim for a weekday? I have to go to work tomorrow.”

“Beomgyu, I’m serious,” Soobin held firm. “I want you to be prepared for this, it’s not just a possibility anymore.”

“I don’t want to think about after.”

“I know,” Soobin said. “But it’ll come. And I want you to be okay.”

“What if I’m not okay? What if this is it for me too?” Beomgyu couldn’t help but cry.

“You will be okay, though,” Soobin sniffled. “It won’t be the end for you. You’re not going to let it be. You’ve shown me how strong you are, this is not the end for you, too.”

The two laid in silence. 

“You know how much I love you, don’t you?” Soobin asked.

Beomgyu let himself smile, softly. “Of course I do, but I wouldn’t be opposed to a reminder.”

“I love you more than all the stars in the galaxy. To the moon and back multiplied by one hundred. More than the size of all of the planets combined into one. More than…” Soobin continued and Beomgyu let him. This was his favorite thing the older one did. He just listened.

“I love you, Beomgyu.”

“I love you, too, Soobin.”

Beomgyu laid on Soobin’s chest, listening to the faint, slowing rhythm of his heart. He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. He was afraid—deeply afraid—of falling asleep.

Because he knew when the sun came up, he would wake up alone.

So he stayed like that for hours, head on Soobin’s chest, holding his breath between each of Soobin’s. Listening. Waiting.

And when he finally dared to look up, Soobin was still there. Still breathing.

But that night felt like a goodbye.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The chairs were set in neat rows beneath an old oak tree that leaned slightly toward the hilltop. It was the kind of place Soobin would have liked—quiet, open, uncomplicated. No stained glass or choir. Just sky. It was a small service—Soobin had always said he didn’t want a big fuss. “Just people who knew me. Who really knew me.” The chairs were filled with soft eyes and tired faces, and just a few rows back, Soobin’s aunt in the oversized black hat dabbed her eyes. What the fuck is on her head?

Beomgyu sat in the front row, the note cards trembling slightly in his hand. Soobin’s casket rested a few feet ahead—light wood, simple, elegant, just like he asked. Beomgyu hadn’t looked at it once. He’d rewritten his speech five times. Tore the first few versions to pieces. Too clean, too polished. Soobin would have hated that. How do you eulogize the love of your life exactly?

The minister called his name.

He took in a sharp inhale. He rose slowly, and buttoned his jacket with a mechanical movement that felt miles away from his body. The walk to the casket felt endless, the hush of the space impossibly loud.

He didn’t look up.

Not once.

Not at the crowd. Not at the casket. Especially not at the casket.

His eyes stayed on the cards as he reached the lectern. For a moment, he said nothing, just stared at the first line, watching the letters blur slightly from the sting in his eyes. He still couldn’t believe this was happening. 

Then he began.

“Soobin never liked speeches and honestly neither do I. He said they always felt like someone trying to be wise about things that can’t be explained. More than anything, he would’ve hated all the attention a speech like this would bring him. And I agree with him. There’s nothing I can do about it now.”

A sigh. A breath. A pause.

“But I think… maybe love is one of those things. You can’t explain it. You just live inside it, if you’re lucky. And I was. I was lucky. I got to love Soobin. And be loved by him. Being loved by Soobin was the greatest joy of my life. He was my absolute favorite person. 

“He used to say that our first conversation was fate disguised as coincidence. That we were always supposed to find each other—he just needed a cappuccino to get there. I always said he was my knight in shining armor. He saved me from myself, honestly. I was such a mess when we first met. He paid for my coffee because my card declined. He just happened to be there at the right time. Or maybe he was just stalking me or something.”

The room gave a soft chuckle. Even through the sadness, there was a warmth. A shared knowing. Soobin had left a mark.

Beomgyu gripped the sides of the podium tighter.

“I watched the strongest man I know become smaller. Not less, but smaller. His body changed. His breath shortened. But even then, he never stopped being him. Sarcastic. Brilliant. So full of love. He made me laugh when I wanted to scream. He made me believe in things I’d stopped believing in. And I would give anything for one more minute.

“The reality is Soobin didn’t deserve this. Maybe he was just too good for this world. He was the type of person who made flowers bloom in his wake. Always so positive, so cheerful, so full of life… Watching the life drain from his eyes was the hardest thing I ever had to do. What I wouldn’t do for just one moment more with him.  

“He told me the reason I didn’t find out about his diagnosis for a year was because he didn’t want to scare me. God, can you believe that? He was the most selfless man I ever met. Only Soobin would hide a cancer diagnosis in fear of burdening someone else. I mean, that’s next level. He had taken care of me for years and never once complained. He was the best person I ever met, better than everyone in every way. It was time for me to return the favor. Soobin pushed me to be the very best version of myself. Someone honest, kind, and strong. I genuinely don’t think I would be here today if it weren’t for him.”

Here, his voice cracked.

He looked up. Yeonjun met his gaze—eyes rimmed red, but smiling, steady. Nodding, as if to say, You're doing it. You’re almost there.

Beomgyu looked back down.

“I am afraid to live without him. I don’t know how. But I promised him I would try. So I will.”

He closed the cards. His hands were shaking. He stepped back from the podium before his legs could give out beneath him, still never glancing at the casket. The chairs blurred as he walked back to his seat, vision wet, chest hollow.

He really did feel like his life was over. The whole moving on with your life thing was a lot easier said than done. Ever since their final night together, Beomgyu kept replaying Soobin’s words in his head. “This is not the end for you, too.” The final word is what really gets him. Did Soobin know he was going to die that night? Their final conversation was filled with existential talks about the meaning of life and I love you’s, surely he had to have known. And if he knew he was about to die, why wouldn’t he provide some wisdom on how exactly to move on and not feel like your life is ending? Beomgyu could not make sense of that. 

He believed Soobin was with him, watching over and protecting him. It was a feeling more than anything else. But he wished so badly that he was just here instead. 

When he sat back in his chair, a drop of water landed on his wrist. Then another. And another. It had begun to rain. Beomgyu closed his eyes, trying to fight back tears. But it was useless.

The world outside was already weeping.