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A notification popped up on Beomgyu's phone, breaking his concentration on the game. His fingers stilled above the glowing screen.
"What's that calendar reminder for?" Soobin asked, his chin on Beomgyu's shoulder as he peered down at younger's phone. He squinted slightly to read the text. "'2 years with Yeonjun.'"
Beomgyu shut his eyes, swallowing hard against the sudden, painful tightness in his throat. The notification vanished as quickly as it had come, leaving only the stark words "Game Over" in its place.
"And does he even know it's your anniversary?" Soobin's voice was a curious mix of teasing and something else, almost like jealousy.
But it couldn't be jealousy. As a former best friend, Soobin knew Beomgyu far too well to ever feel that way.
The realization that the tease was aimed more at Yeonjun than at himself allowed a sense of calm to settle over Beomgyu. The tension he hadn't realized he was holding in his muscles eased, and Soobin's arm around him tightened just a fraction.
"Do you think he knows we used to date?" Beomgyu quipped, though the words came out rougher, more strained than he intended.
"Touché," Soobin chuckled into his shoulder, his hands resuming their soothing pattern on Beomgyu's sides. "After all, he couldn't even make it to your anniversary trip last time."
Beomgyu nudged him lightly with an elbow.
"You know he was really busy with that filming schedule. It's work, it's contracts. We've been over this," Beomgyu said, restarting the game level. "It wasn't his fault. Remember how he apologized?"
"Can't say that I do," Soobin murmured, burying his face in Beomgyu's hair with a soft sigh. "All I could think back then was that you deserved more. You deserved someone who loved you more thoughtfully, who'd actually make time for you, who'd talk about your interests, not just his job…"
Not looking up from his phone, Beomgyu playfully hit Soobin's hand.
"We talked about more than just about work."
"Right, right," Soobin drawled, rolling his eyes. "There were also work friends, what you ate for lunch, and the weather. I remember."
The memory sent a sharp, familiar pang through Beomgyu's chest. It wasn't that the gap between him and Yeonjun was so vast; it was less about width and more about depth. He had never encountered so many polar opposites in one person he was trying to be closer with.
"Opposites attract, isn't that what you told me?" Soobin mused, his tone thoughtful. "Funny how things change, huh…"
Beomgyu had truly believed that once. He thought stark differences would make a relationship richer, each partner covering for the other's weaknesses. They would offer unique perspectives, injecting novelty and variety. They would make each other's lives more vibrant, always offering a new angle to see things.
But the reality was far less romantic. Different values affected theif priorities. Different ideas of a perfect day left them out of sync on dates. Diverging interests meant conversations often lulled, and the silence that followed felt corrosive.
Endless parties, a constant stream of friends, grueling training, back-to-back endorsements, a flood of modeling offers, relentless ambition for a solo career – that was Yeonjun's world.
Cozy game nights, rare quiet walks, strumming his guitar, writing songs, lazy days in comfy clothes, daydreaming, hours spent just lounging in bed – that was his.
How could they ever have spend time with only two of them? There simply weren't enough hours. When work consumed the weekdays, weekends offered mere moments of rest before it all started again. Their time together as a couple dwindled from hours to minutes. Their texts became brief. Some weeks, they didn't text at all.
"You're going to lose again if you keep getting lost in your head," Soobin said, pulling him from his thoughts as he reached over to tap the screen, pausing the game. "Are we really back to talking about your first love?"
Beomgyu tossed his phone onto the blanket beside them. His hands found Soobin's and laced their fingers together.
"I don't want to talk about him, Soobin," Beomgyu whispered, squeezing his hand tighter and shutting his eyes tightly against the burn of tears. "We've been down this road so many times."
"I know," Soobin nodded, and Beomgyu felt the motion more than saw it. "But as long as the memory of him is still this fresh, as long as we're ‘celebrating' your two years, you might as well get it out. I know you need to. And you know better than anyone that bottling it up is your worst habit."
His closed eyelids were no longer enough to hold the tears back. Beomgyu felt Soobin turn him around gently and then a thumb carefully wiped a tear from his cheek, a warm palm cradling his face.
"Soobin… I just… I still can't process how quickly it all ended. It feels like we never really had a chance to begin."
He kept his eyes shut. Not because of the tears, but because he didn't want to see the present – Soobin's concerned face – when his mind was so stubbornly, painfully painting a picture of the past. The disconnect between reality and imagination only made it worse.
"You know I love you, right, Soobin?" Beomgyu asked, leaning into the older boy's embrace and resting his head in the hollow of his neck.
"I love you more, Gyu," Soobin answered, his fingers beginning to travel slowly through Beomgyu's hair. "I love you so much more."
"I just –" Beomgyu's voice hitched, falling into a brief silence. "I just wanted him to love me the way I loved him."
His hands, now resting on Soobin's shoulders, crumpled the fabric of his shirt.
"And I still can't let that go," Beomgyu finally looked up at Soobin, the tears now flowing freely. "I'm happy with you, but I still can't let it go. And I know – "
A sob caught in his throat, and Soobin hurriedly reached for a tissue on the nightstand, handing it over. Beomgyu nodded in silent thanks.
"And I know it's not fair to you, to what we have, that I still think about him. Even now, when you're holding me and telling me you love me."
Soobin's eyes held only understanding and affection. A gentle, knowing smile played on his lips, though a faint melancholy touched his brows.
Soobin was always like this with him. Beomgyu had noticed how Soobin often muted his own feelings so Beomgyu could feel his fully. He acted selflessly, not for his own benefit, but for whatever Beomgyu needed most. Soobin loved him with a sincere, sacrificial devotion that enveloped him completely.
Yeonjun… Yeonjun loved brightly, boldly, fiercely. He cared, too. He helped, he held Beomgyu passionately, and his kisses were even more so. His love was genuine. But every minute of their relationship, Beomgyu had carried the quiet uncertainty that his own love was the stronger of the two. And he will never feel loved back this fiery.
Beomgyu had burned for Yeonjun, constantly. His eyes would find him first in any room. His first thought each morning was of him. The world was a constant reminder – a flower, a cloud, a song, a scent, a taste. Soobin had once joked that Beomgyu would jump into a volcano if it somehow reminded him of Yeonjun. Only Soobin knew the true depth of that extreme devotion.
Beomgyu was always afraid his intensity would push Yeonjun away. That he'd seem too clingy with his affection, too obsessed with his constant texting, too overwhelming with his need to be near. So he held himself back. But loving at half-strength is infinitely harder than loving with your whole heart, freely and completely.
And that he always felt like a second priority, existing only in the background.
Perhaps that was why he was now in Soobin's arms. Because Soobin had accepted him with all that love. Soobin had loved all of him. Soobin knew everything, even the things Beomgyu had yet to discover about himself. Soobin was always there. Always.
But a bitter taste filled his mouth when he thought of what had been – or more accurately, what could have been – with Yeonjun. As if, given more time, they could have become inseparable.
And did these thoughts count as a betrayal of Soobin's feelings?
"I feel so guilty, hyung," Beomgyu muttered, averting his gaze to his phone lying beside them. "Towards you… towards myself… even towards him."
Maybe he was waiting for something from the dark screen. The thought only made him feel worse, more sick.
"You know," Soobin said, lifting Beomgyu's head and framing his face with his palms, "I know all your thoughts. I know you so well you hardly need to speak. I always know what you want."
Beomgyu nodded, wiping his nose.
"I know that Choi Yeonjun will always be first for you."
Beomgyu jolted in surprise, pulling back from Soobin's embrace.
"What? Hyung, that's not true!" He shook his head desperately, his voice thick with panic.
Soobin gave a bitter smile.
"There's no point in soothing me, Gyu," he said, his hands dropping to the bed, releasing the younger. "First-ranked rapper among the trainees? Choi Yeonjun. First-ranked dancer? Choi Yeonjun. First-ranked vocalist? Choi Yeonjun. First in Choi Beomgyu's heart? Also Choi Yeonjun."
Beomgyu faltered, speechless. The words rang with a terrifying truth.
"Yeonjun was always first. Always. When you met him, he was the best at everything, so you made him first in your personal ranking, too."
Soobin got up from the bed and walked to the desk to pour a glass of water from the pitcher. Beomgyu watched his every move but saw through his form.
"I'm competitive too, but I could never surpass Yeonjun's drive to win. No matter how hard I tried, no matter what I did. All I could do was use everything that's in my power, spend all my time trying, play every card I had just to bypass the lowest of requirements. But even then, I only ever won when Yeonjun stopped caring about the ranking and entered a different competition. One where the prize wasn't love or respect, but money and accomplishments."
Yeonjun had to choose which contest he wanted to win. And Soobin knew that Yeonjun's ambitions were both his greatest strength and his most profound weakness.
He handed the glass of water to Beomgyu, not yet returning to the bed.
"You need to hydrate. Or you'll get a headache again."
"Thanks," Beomgyu accepted the glass, his hands trembling slightly.
Soobin waited until he got the glass back, then returned to the desk to pour one for himself.
He stood with his back to Beomgyu, his emotions unreadable in his posture.
"Beomgyu."
"Yes, Soobin?" he responded.
"If Yeonjun," Soobin began, and Beomgyu nervously swallowed, anticipating the direction of his thought, "Even knowing about us, suddenly asked to bring back what you two had… Would you say yes?"
A heavy, thick silence filled the room.
"No, hyung, I wouldn't," Beomgyu whispered, barely audible, his eyes darting away from Soobin's figure back to his phone.
Soobin set his glass down on the desk with a sharp, ringing clink – a sound that startled them both. Beomgyu's eyes snapped back to him.
Suddenly, Soobin's shoulders relaxed. He turned to face Beomgyu, letting out a soft, incredulous laugh.
"And we both know you just lied."
Beomgyu's lips twitched into an unconscious, guilty smile in return.
"And we both know that scenario will never happen."
Soobin returned to the bed, settling back behind Beomgyu and pulling him into a half-embrace.
"I try to live in the moment, to enjoy what I have," he whispered against Beomgyu's neck, his breath sending a shiver down the younger's spine. "So I will always be grateful that, at the very least, we are best friends, and at most, I get to call you mine and kiss you like this."
Soobin began to place soft, lingering kisses along his neck that raised goosebumps on Beomgyu's skin. He shuddered involuntarily at the intimate contact.
"I need to get back to my game, Soobin," Beomgyu said, his voice still stuffy, his lips slightly pouted as he unlocked his phone and took the game off pause.
"Mhm, I won't get in your way," Soobin promised, continuing to press kisses into Beomgyu's hair.
He resumed gently stroking Beomgyu's sides as he had before, tenderly kissing his head and the nape of his neck.
Beomgyu suddenly tensed and froze. The sound of a failed level echoed from the phone.
A sense of déjà vu washed over Soobin. He stopped kissing Beomgyu and leaned over to look at the screen.
"i need to tell you something, beoms. please." The text glowed on the display.
The message vanished.
They were left staring at the red words on the screen.
Game Over.