Work Text:
18th August, 2010
Beomgyu has always loved the beach.
The air was thick and heavy, tasting of salt and a distant promise of rain. The sky was washed with a pale, exhausted blue, and the summer sun blazed in a white-hot fury. Sunlight sank into the ocean, eliciting a dazzling shimmer from the water’s surface.
Beomgyu sat alone on the cool, damp sand by the shore, watching as the tide breathed its final sigh. His legs were crossed, arms lying loosely between his thighs.
Before him, the ocean was a restless creature. The waves were not playful or careless, but rather, a relentless, rhythmic assault. They gathered themselves with a deep, grumbling roar, and hurled themselves forward with a sound like tearing fabric, exploding onto the shore in a furious, foaming rush. The spent water raced up the sand, a thin, eager tongue that licks at Beomgyu’s feet before hissing back into the depths, dragging a million tiny stones with a sound like a receding whisper.
He exhaled slowly, watching the horizon, where the sky and the sea bled into an intrinsic, grey line. In the distance, a single seagull streaked over the water surface, its cry swallowed by the wind. Beomgyu longed to be able to fly over the waters like that as well. To be truly free, to escape the torture of human life. On his lap, his fingers twitched, eager to stretch out and reach towards the sky—
A small stone whizzed past him, missing his ear by an inch and landing in the sand with a wet thunk.
Beomgyu stilled, slowly turning around.
Behind him was a brown-haired boy who looked about the same age as him, maybe a little older. He stood frozen, his expression shell-shocked, arm still outstretched from the throw. In his other hand, he gripped a handful of small rocks tightly, and Beomgyu noticed that the latter’s baby hands were so small that some of the stones jutted out from his fist.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The brunette looked so horrified that Beomgyu almost felt bad for him.
Then suddenly, he hunched over, dipping his head in a deep, aggressive (and way too dramatic, if Beomgyu was being honest) bow. “I’m so sorry!” He apologized, a little bit too loudly for Beomgyu’s liking. “I swear I wasn’t trying to hurt you or anything, I was just trying to skip stones, and it was my first time doing so, and my aim is terrible, and…”
Beomgyu blinked. What was he supposed to say? I can tell? Never try anything ever again? He shook his head mentally. That was no way to talk to a stranger, although that stranger might have initiated a murder attempt on him just a few seconds ago. Instead, he jumped to his feet abruptly, marching over to the boy, who stood in place, blinking owlishly at him.
When Beomgyu reached him, he grabbed the latter’s wrist and lifted his clenched fist, tapping on his fingers impatiently. “Open,” he demanded. The boy stared at him, dumbfounded, not releasing his grip on the stones. Beomgyu rolled his eyes. “Relax, I’m not going to bash you in the head with them. Now open up.” He pried at the taller’s fingers, not bothering to be gentle, until he gave in and unclenched his hand.
Beomgyu frowned at the random assortment of rocks the brunette had picked. Some were jagged and pointed, while others were smooth and oval shaped. There were greens, whites, browns, blacks, and Beomgyu quirked a brow when he found a pretty purple one within his grasp.
Then, he began tossing the stones into the sand behind him one by one.
The brunette let out an indignant sound of protest. “Hey! What are you doing?”
Beomgyu ignored him and continued. “You call that skipping stones? You’re not even using the right rocks. You’re supposed to use stones that are flat and thin, or ones that are smooth, at least, and they have to be not too light nor too heavy, something like—“ he lit up at the sight of one particular piece, bringing it up triumphantly so the latter can see it as well. It was flat and round, about the size of his palm. “Something like this.”
He approached the shore, stepping a few feet away from the boy. Turning back momentarily, he flashed a grin. “Watch and learn.” He drew his arm backwards, his gaze travelling across the expanse before him. Then he swung his elbow forward, a smug smile overtaking his features as the stone bounced on the water surface a few times before sinking. He looked back at the boy, his smile widening when he saw the latter’s stunned expression. “See that?”
There was a short pause before the brunette shifted his gaze towards him, and Beomgyu was taken aback by the sheer amount of admiration and excitement in his eyes. He flushed, suddenly self -conscious, not expecting this kind of enthusiasm over stone skipping, of all things.
The boy didn’t seem to notice, however, as he flashed Beomgyu an equally wide grin of his own. “That was so cool! How’d you do that? Can you please teach me? What kind of stones did you say I should use again?”
The onslaught of questions caused Beomgyu to look away, flustered. “It wasn’t that impressive. All I did was throw a rock at the sea.”
“Still! What you did there—it requires skill. And the way it bounced on the water—can you please teach me?” The boy pleaded.
Beomgyu laughed, feeling his awkwardness dissipate at the brunette’s eagerness. “Okay, fine, but we’ll need to get you proper stones this time. Remember, thin and smooth.”
When the latter offered him a silly saluting pose, Beomgyu had to turn away to hide his smile.
And that’s how, an hour later, the duo was crouched by the shore, holding as many stones as they could in their hands, scourging the rocky shoreline for more. “Say,” Beomgyu started, squinting at the sand. “Why do you want to learn stone skipping so bad?”
The boy hummed, not looking back at him. “Just want a new interest, I guess. Life has been getting pretty boring recently,” he answered with a vague flick of his arm.
“Okay, but why get me to teach you? Surely you could’ve just asked your mom about it or something.” Beomgyu raised a brow quizzically.
That made the latter look up. When their eyes met, there was a flicker of a particular emotion behind his gaze that Beomgyu couldn’t put his finger on. “My mom isn’t exactly…around,” he replied shortly.
“Well, duh, I doubt your mom would’ve allowed you to almost commit a heinous case of murder if she were around right now.” Beomgyu snorted.
“No, I mean—“ the boy huffed, although there was no real annoyance in his voice. “She’s not around. Hasn’t been for a long time.”
“Oh,” Beomgyu frowned. “Where did she go?”
The brunette stared at him, blinking in surprise for a moment at his response. Then, he promptly burst into laughter, doubling over in giggles. “You’re such a pabo,” he said in between a fit of laughter.
“What?” The crease between Beomgyu’s eyebrows deepened as he grew increasingly irritated. Was there a joke he missed? Why is he suddenly being called an idiot? When the latter ignored him and continued giggling to himself, he rolled his eyes. “Yah! I’m asking you a question, you stupid rabbit-face!”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” the latter’s grin seemed to imply that it was anything else but nothing, as he wiped a stray tear with the back of his hand. “But what about you? What are you doing here at the beach today? I don’t see your parents around either, so I assume you’re not here for vacation.”
“Nah,” Beomgyu dropped his gaze, returning to his search for suitable rocks. “I live nearby. I usually come here when I get stressed, or something bothers me so bad that I need to take a break, I guess.”
“Oh.” When Beomgyu stole a quick glance over at the boy’s direction, he was frowning at his handful of pebbles, seemingly deep in thought.
“What’s wrong? Were the stones you found not good enough for skipping?” Beomgyu quipped, slowly approaching the taller.
The boy closed his fist quickly, shooting Beomgyu a quick, reassuring smile. Beomgyu didn’t buy it. “It’s nothing,” the brunette said, turning towards the ocean. “Let’s get on with the lesson, yeah?”
Beomgyu shrugged. “Fine. But you better do as I say.”
“Roger that!”
To be fair, he did do exactly as Beomgyu instructed. He just failed miserably every time.
By the time the sky had darkened, they had both called it quits, lying collapsed on the sandy shore. Beomgyu’s right arm ached, laying limp beside his body uselessly. He assumed the boy next to him was also in a similar condition. For a while, they both lay there silently, trying to catch their breath. Who knew skipping stones could be so tiring?
The sand prickled underneath Beomgyu’s bare skin, not enough for it to be uncomfortable, but sufficient for him to be reminded of its presence. Above them, the night sky was etched with a mirage of patterns and constellations. They were not the polite, twinkling pinpricks seen from a city suburb, but fierce, diamond-hard points of light, so numerous they seemed to crowd against one another, dusting the heavens in a glittering, frozen spray.
“The stars are beautiful tonight.” Beomgyu turned his head to the side, glancing at the boy next to him, who looked awestruck at the millions of shimmering patterns laid out before him. There was a faint flush across the bridge of his nose, and his eyes were the colour of twilight—a dark shade of grey, reflecting the starlight, wide and full of wonder.
They are. “Do you not see them often?” Beomgyu opted to ask instead.
The boy shook his head, his gaze still fixated on the stars. “I come from the city. I’ve never…I’ve never seen anything like this before.”
A comfortable silence hung between them then, and the only thing that could be heard was the sound of the waves lapping gently against the shore.
“What happened?” The boy asked suddenly, without preamble.
Beomgyu paused. “What do you mean?”
He finally looked away from the stars, and the two locked eyes. “You said you only come here when you’re upset. What happened before that?”
It was Beomgyu’s turn to avert his gaze as he sighed, staring at the sky above them. “You know, the usual. Parents arguing. Yelling about…stuff I didn’t wanna hear. So I left. Temporarily.” Beomgyu shrugged. “I doubt they even noticed I’m gone. Or, even if they did, they didn’t care enough to go looking for me.”
Beomgyu didn’t want to look over. Didn’t want to see the eyes full of pity. Braced himself for the “I’m sorry” and the “you can get through it if you stay strong”.
“I’m sorry.” There it is. “My dad is constantly drunk after my mom passed away.” Beomgyu jerked his head towards the boy’s direction, and swallowed. There was none of the pity he had expected in the boy’s eyes, but instead, a kind of mutual understanding, and, deeper, a sort of inexplicable sadness that came along with being an unfortunate child.
The brunette didn’t offer any more explanation. He didn’t need to. Because Beomgyu knew. And for once, he also felt understood.
So he let out a wry chuckle. “Guess we’re not as different as I thought, huh?”
The boy snorted. “You? Please. As if I’d ever reach your level of stone skipping.”
Beomgyu nodded gravely. “You’re right. Don’t you dare show your face to me again before you’ve mastered the technique of stone skipping.”
They both laughed at that, the sound being carried away quickly by the wind.
“Does that mean I’ll get to see you again?” The boy’s teasing tone didn’t quite conceal the hope in his voice.
Beomgyu smiled softly. “I’m usually here every Sunday afternoon. Is that alright with you?”
“Yeah,” was it Beomgyu’s imagination, or did the other boy sound slightly breathless? “Yeah, that’s perfect.”
The moment was broken when a loud buzzing sound emitted from the boy’s back pocket. Groaning, he reluctantly fished his phone out and swiped away a notification reminding him of his curfew. Beomgyu giggled at the sight of his wallpaper, a photo of him as a baby, maybe around three to four years old. He was in the middle of a slide, his arms thrown up and his smile turning his eyes into crescents. Beomgyu cooed at the sight of some of his teeth not having grown out properly yet.
“Awww, you were so cute,” he gasped, raising an eyebrow teasingly. “What happened?”
The boy shoved at him gently, but he was laughing. “Shut up.”
Beomgyu smiled, getting on his feet and offering the brunette his hand. “You should go,” he chastised, not unkindly. “It’s not safe this late at night.”
The boy accepted his hand gratefully. “Promise you’ll be here next time?”
“I promise.”
He nodded, disappointment evident in his eyes as he slowly started trudging his way up the sand.
Beomgyu watched him go, trying to ignore the wistful pang in his heart. Then, suddenly, panic seized him. “Wait!” He called out, hurrying after the boy.
He caught at his wrist just when the latter turned in surprise. “What…what’s your name?”
The boy smiled, revealing a dimple that shone brighter than any star. “Soobin. Choi Soobin.”
+͓̽x͓̽+͓̽
4th March, 2019
The sun was beginning its slow descent, painting the sky with strokes of orange, pink, and violet. The air had lost its harsh heat, replaced by a gentle, warm breeze that carried the soothing scent of salt and the rhythmic crash of waves. The beach was nearly empty, the golden sand cooling underneath their feet.
Beomgyu sat with his knees drawn up, idly drawing patterns on the shore while humming to himself softly. Soobin sat beside him, so close that their shoulders occasionally brushed. They had been talking for what felt like hours. The easy flow of conversation between them was like the tide, filled with laughter, comfortable silences, and the shared understanding that had always defined their friendship.
“I’m just saying,” Soobin was shaking his head like a disappointed mother. “If you had held on to that kite like a normal person instead of doing that weird wrist-loop thing, we wouldn’t have to end up chasing it for a mile.”
Beomgyu let out an offended gasp, straightening indignantly at the older’s words. “How dare you! I’ll have you know that ‘fancy wrist-loop thing’ was an advanced kite-flying technique. The kite was the problem. It had a rebellious spirit.”
“The kite was bought from a five-dollar store from the boardwalk, Gyu, the only spirit it had was plastic and wishful thinking.” Soobin grinned, giving Beomgyu a slight nudge. “Just like when you tried to surf last week.”
“Hey, I literally stood up!” Beomgyu protested, laughing.
“For two seconds! And then you proceeded to fall so spectacularly that I’m sure the seagulls are still talking shit about you up to this day.”
“They were applauding,” Beomgyu sniffled. “Unlike you, who doesn’t understand art when it’s laid out in front of you.”
They fell into a comfortable silence then, watching as a family at the far edge of the shore pack up their picnic baskets and towels. In the distance, the sun dipped lower, glowing a faint golden hue.
“It’s fascinating, isn’t it?” Soobin muttered, his eyes slightly unfocused. “All these years, all the sunsets we’ve watched together…they’re somehow always the same. The same sky. The same water. The same…us.”
Beomgyu glanced over, but the latter didn’t meet his eyes, his gaze fixed on the horizon. As he stared at the older boy, he couldn’t help but notice how drastically different Soobin looked compared to before. His childish features had been washed away, replaced by a more mature and masculine set of traits. His hands were much bigger than before, veiny but not calloused, his fingers long and slender. And under the feeble radiance of the sun, with his hair tousled and windswept, and his glasses sitting slightly crooked above his nose, Beomgyu thought he was the prettiest man he’d ever laid his eyes on.
“Do you remember when we made wishes at the shooting star sighting before?” Beomgyu asked without preamble, and Soobin hummed in response, not questioning the random statement. “Do you know what I wished for?”
Soobin looked over, inquiry in his eyes.
“I wished that we would never change. The two of us. Together against the world.”
Soobin didn’t even hesitate. “We will. We always will.”
“But what if we can’t?” Beomgyu clenched his fist when his voice slightly wavered, fingernails digging deep into the sand. “What if—what if you find someone else who can treat you better, someone who can make you happier? What if we find our separate friend groups and slowly lose each other?”
“Then I’ll find you again.” Soobin reached over, his fingers gently brushing over Beomgyu’s. Not quite holding hands, but more so an intimate gesture of affection and reassurance. “Over and over again. Until you’re sick of it. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not. And I’m never leaving.”
Beomgyu worried his bottom lip. “Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Pinky promise.”
“I pinky promise.” Soobin grinned, intertwining their pinkies together, which immediately made Beomgyu relax and unclench his grip on the sand.
They held each other’s gazes for a long moment, the only sound being the crash and pull of the ocean. The air between them, once easy, was now charged with something unspoken, something that had been building for years.
“I, uh,” Soobin broke the silence, suddenly looking nervous. He cleared his throat and reached into the pocket of his worn leather jacket. “I actually got you something.”
Beomgyu’s playful smirk returned, a defence against the sudden seriousness. “Is it another weird seashell? Because I still have the one that looks like a dissected lobster. It’s on my bookshelf and haunts my dreams regularly.”
“Glad to know you love me enough to keep that monstrosity.” Soobin snorted. “Unfortunately, no, it’s not a seashell. Not this time.” He opened his hand. Resting on his palm were two delicate silver necklaces, each bearing half a heart.
Beomgyu sucked in a breath, his breath catching at his throat as all teasing fled, leaving him speechless. He stared, his eyes wide, as the dying light glinted off the polished silver.
Soobin’s voice was soft, a little vulnerable. “I saw them a few weeks ago, and I couldn’t stop thinking about them.” He looked at Beomgyu, his eyes earnest. “They’re from the same place. Made of the same thing. No matter where we are…we match. We’ll always be each other’s constant.”
Beomgyu felt warmth spread throughout his chest. His hand trembled slightly when he reached forward and took one of the identical pendants. The material was cool and smooth against his fingers.
“Hyung,” he finally managed. “It’s perfect.”
“Here,” Soobin said softly. “Let me.”
Beomgyu shifted, feeling the older’s fingers brush over the nape of his neck as he fastened the clasp. When he turned back, Soobin was already wearing his, the identical silver gleam resting on his chest.
Beomgyu looked down at his half of the heart, then back at Soobin, his eyes shining. “Now you’ll always have to find me.” His voice was teasing, but his unspoken meaning was devastatingly clear.
Soobin smiled, a real, heartfelt smile that reached his eyes. “Always.”
And as the last light of day vanished, leaving them basking under a tapestry of stars, they sat together, two halves of a whole, listening to the endless, faithful rhythm of the sea.
+͓̽x͓̽+͓̽
Beomgyu didn’t know when it all started.
Didn’t know when the casual, friendly gestures started to feel more intimate. Didn’t know why the affectionate hand holdings and hair ruffles sent butterflies to his stomach. Didn’t understand when Soobin remembered his usual order from their local restaurant and deliberately removed the seafood from his order, he felt warmth creep up to his cheeks that had nothing to do with the weather.
And he certainly didn’t know how they’d ended up on his bed, skin bare against the mattress and clothes scattered on the floor, both breathless and panting. Beomgyu had cried out Soobin’s name, the sound muffled by the pillow underneath him, when the older had pressed his body against his, both of them flushed with want and desire.
All it took was a drunken game of truth and dare—one moment they were on the couch, laughing at some stupid joke Soobin had made; then the next—his lips were on Beomgyu’s, hot and wet and so good. It was messy, filled with fervour and desperation. When they finally broke apart, gasping for air, Beomgyu assumed that Soobin’s wrecked appearance mirrored his own—hair disheveled, eyes blown wide and glazed over, pupils dilated. And fuck, he looked absolutely god-sent.
Perhaps that’s why Beomgyu couldn’t bring himself to protest when Soobin slid a hand underneath his shirt while nibbling at Beomgyu’s bottom lip, eliciting a quiet gasp from the younger. As he drew lower, he began sucking and lapping at every bit of skin he could find, his thumb tracing soothing patterns on Beomgyu’s waist. “Is this okay?” He muttered between kisses, his breath hot against the younger’s skin.
What a cruel question. There was no way he didn’t know the answer already. That didn’t stop Beomgyu from weaving a hand through Soobin’s hair, gently tugging on the dark strands in affirmation. “Yes. Please, Binnie.” He whispered, letting out a soft whine when Soobin sucked on a spot on his neck hard.
Hard enough to leave a bruise for the coming days. The problem? Beomgyu didn’t care.
No, it was worse than that. He liked it. Loved it, even. Way too much for his own good.
So that’s why, the next time when Soobin, who was peppering kisses over his chest and riling up Beomgyu’s shirt, asked him the question again, he immediately replied with the same answer.
And the next time. As did the next.
They never talk about it afterwards. Not the morning after, as one of them detached themselves from the bedsheets and changed into a clean set of pyjamas, quietly tossing their stained clothing into the laundry. Not when he smiled at the sight of the latter waking groggily, returning to their usual, playful banter between friends.
One time, the two lay on the bed in comfortable silence, Beomgyu’s head resting on the older’s chest. Soobin’s body was covered by a sheen layer of sweat, but Beomgyu couldn’t bring himself to care, blinking the tiredness out of his eyes.
Soobin broke the silence after a few seconds. “Beomgyu-ah,” his voice cracked slightly, vulnerable and uncertain. “What are we doing?”
Beomgyu couldn’t find an answer.
+͓̽x͓̽+͓̽
6th July, 2023
When Soobin entered the passcode to Beomgyu’s university dorm room—the older’s birthday but reversed—he didn’t expect to see what he was laid out in front of him
To say the room was a mess would be an understatement. It was a landscape of intimate upheaval: cushions were flung aside, their cheerful floral patterns seeming garnish and grey; his bookshelf was swept clean, beloved volumes of classic novels and old poetry lying in haphazard, vulnerable piles on the floor; his clothes were tossed onto the unmade bed carelessly, landing in a heap of polyester and linen.
Soobin found Beomgyu leaning over his work desk, rummaging through his (originally) neatly organized workspace, flinging crumpled sheets of paper on the ground in a frantic frenzy. His hair, which had grown up to his lower nape recently, was coming loose in a small ponytail, damp strands sticking to his temples. The single LED light glowed dimly on his cheeks, highlighting the shadows under his eyes. He looked, for a heart-stopping moment, like a stranger—a boy who was haunted.
Soobin approached him hesitantly, keeping his voice as soft as possible. “Beomgyu? What’s going on? What are you looking for?”
His voice, when it came, was choked with a raw, visceral panic that Soobin hadn’t heard in years. It was the sound of profound loss. “It’s gone, hyung. I can’t find it. I’ve looked everywhere—under the bed, in the wardrobe, in the drawers—“
Soobin was by his side in an instant, gently placing a hand on his back in an attempt to soothe the younger one, feeling his tense muscles quiver under his touch. “Hey, it’s okay. What’s gone, baby?” Beomgyu didn’t comment on the use of the pet name. It had already become a common occurrence between them, an affirming expression of reassurance. “Your phone? Your wallet? Your grandmother’s ring? Whatever it is, we can always find another and replace it—“ his words were automatic, a practical response to a crisis he didn’t understand yet.
Beomgyu turned, and Soobin’s voice faltered immediately at his expression. Tears had cut a clean streak through his cheeks, and his eyes were wide with a childlike, disbelieving grief. “My necklace,” he whispered, his voice broken and fragmented. “Soobin-hyung, my necklace is gone.”
The air went out of his lungs as he understood instantly, completely. The necklace was more than a piece of jewelry—it was the pendant that Beomgyu had clutched tightly when he couldn’t block the shouts and slams outside his bedroom back at his parents’ place; it was the silver metal that was cool and comforting against Beomgyu’s bare skin as Soobin whispered sweet nothings into his ear, fingers traversing and worshipping every part of his body; it was what carried a fragment of their shared memories together throughout the past decade. It was the silent, profound vow Soobin had promised him back at the beach a lifetime ago, the two of them so young and trembling against the magnitude of their decleration to the ocean itself.
“Okay,” Soobin said, his voice deliberately steady. He took hold of Beomgyu’s hands, the skin icy against his. “Okay, just breathe. Just for a second, stop looking and just breathe. When did you last have it on?”
“This morning!” Beomgyu’s voice cracked in desperation, and Soobin unconsciously tightened his grip on their connected hands. “I was taking a walk by the beach, and I’m sure it was there, because I always touch it when I’m thinking.” He swallowed. “I went home, got showered, had lunch at the cafe with you, then went to the school library for revision…I went to the grocery store to grab something for dinner…I must have…the clasp must have broken sometime during the day. Or it’s…” his eyes widened as a horrifying solution came to mind. “Or…I dropped it at the beach somewhere. It’s gone forever, hyung. Washed out into the sea.”
Soobin remained silent when Beomgyu buried his face in his shirt, his tears soaking into the fabric. “It was us,” his was voice muffled. “And I’ve lost it in god-knows-where. I’ve lost a piece of us.”
Soobin didn’t tell him it’s okay. Didn’t retort that it was just a thing, that it could be replaced. He knew that it would have been an empty, white lie, a useless attempt at consoling his emotions. Instead, he pulled him closer wordlessly, holding him tightly as the latter sobbed into his arms, absorbing the tremors of his grief.
“Shh,” he muttered into the younger’s hair, pressing a gentle kiss on the spot. “I know. I know what it means. I know.”
“It was from you,” Beomgyu muttered wetly, gripping the hem of Soobin’s shirt. “The very first beginning. It was our promise.”
Soobin held him for a long time, until his quiet sobs evened out into soft sighs. He cupped a hand over his cheek then, his thumb ghosting over his tear streaks, wiping away the evidence of his despair. “Gyu,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Look at me.”
When the younger obliged, his eyes were still swimming with tears, and his bottom lip trembled slightly.
“Listen,” Soobin took a deep breath, and continued. “You did not lose us. I told you that day, I will never allow that to happen.” He moved his hand to clutch at Beomgyu’s palm. Slowly, he lifted their joined hands and placed them over his chest, where, beneath his soft, worn t-shirt, was the cold, unmistakable shape of his own identical necklace.
“Do you feel that?” He asked softly, never breaking his gaze at the younger boy. “That’s my half. And it’s not going anywhere. It has always been there, and will continue to be.”
He kept his hand over Beomgyu’s, pressing it over his chest for a moment longer, before leading their intertwined fingers to the latter’s heart, holding it there gently but firmly.
"And your half?" he continued, his gaze unwavering. "It's right here. It always has been. It doesn't need a silver chain. It's woven into you.“ He gave Beomgyu a small, tender smile, one that crinkled the corners of his eyes—the same smile that had captivated Beomgyu on that beach when they first met. "The necklace holds a piece of our memories. But it didn't make them us. We did that. We built us out of days and years and a million little choices. Out of almost burning your parent’s kitchen down when we tried to boil Chinese soup. Out of running off into the hills and staying there even when it rained. And that..." he squeezed his hand, "that is not something you can ever lose on a beach, no matter how hard the wind blows. It's unbreakable."
A shaky breath escaped Beomgyu. It was the first deep breath he had taken in the past hour. The icy knot in his chest began to loosen, replaced by a familiar, blooming warmth. Suddenly, he felt immensely drained as he leaned his forehead against Soobin’s, closing his eyes in exhaustion. The loss was still there, but it was no longer a gaping black hole threatening to swallow him whole.
“I’m sorry,” his voice was hoarse from crying. “I just…I just feel like I’ve failed.” Failed you. The words were unspoken, but they hung in the silence between them blatantly.
“Don’t you ever feel sorry for loving something that much,” Soobin said fiercely, his voice thick with emotion. He pressed a kiss on Beomgyu’s forehead, leaving a warm, tingling sensation there. “It’s a beautiful thing. It’s the most beautiful thing about you. Your capability to love so fiercely it scares me sometimes.”
Beomgyu offered him a small, weak smile. “Thanks, Soobinnie.” A single word holding a million messages.
Soobin returned the smile. “Always. Also, is that…” he tilted his head, frowning. “…is that Chinese soup I smell?”
Beomgyu’s eyes widened. “Oh no.”
+͓̽x͓̽+͓̽
22nd April, 2025
They were two months away from graduating.
Two months before graduating, and they were still treading on the thin line between friendship and something bigger.
Beomgyu had found Soobin standing beside the pier overlooking the beach, arms hanging over the railing. He was staring into the distance, eyebrows slightly scrunched, as if deep in thought.
Beomgyu plopped himself in the space beside him, leaning against the railing and grinning. “Hey, stranger.”
The taller’s eyes lit up when his gaze landed on him, a teasing smile making its way onto his face. “You’re late.”
Beomgyu shrugged. “My friend volunteered to drive me here then got his car stuck in mud from yesterday’s rain. Had to walk the rest of the way here.”
Soobin snorted. “Poor guy. Should’ve been more careful to drive after a rainstorm, though.”
They lapsed into a comfortable silence after that, leaning against the rough wooden railing, shoulders brushing. His eyes fixed on the landscape before him, Beomgyu sighed. “It’s crazy, honestly. No matter how many times I’m here, I never get bored with it. It’s truly the epitome of beauty.”
“It is,” Soobin agreed, but he was looking at the younger.
Beomgyu nudged him, rolling his eyes, not bothering to hide the quirk of his lips. “You cheesy asshole.”
“It’s a proven fact.” Soobin grinned back.
They continued watching the horizon for a few more seconds before Soobin straightened, removing his arms from the railing. “Come on,” he said, stepping back. “I want to show you something.”
Beomgyu followed suit, peeling himself off the wood. “What? How to inflate a car tire?”
“Even better,” Soobin’s expression was unreadable. “But you’ll have to trust me.”
He led Beomgyu off the pier onto the sand, heading north, towards the direction of a more rocky, more isolated part of the coast. Soobin remained silent the entire time as they walked, his eyes distracted, unfocused. Beomgyu didn’t press.
About ten minutes had passed when the older stopped in front of a formidable wall of black rock, covered in moss and sea grass. It looked ancient and impermeable, dripping with moisture from the receding tide. “Here?” Beomgyu asked, confusion etched on his features.
The faint hint of a smile made its way onto Soobin’s lips as he pulled aside a thick layer of kelp with a practised grunt, revealing a dark, narrow entrance.
Beomgyu gaped. “No way.” A secret passage. It was something they’d read out of adventure books as kids.
“Way,” Soobin grinned, although the action seemed tighter than usual. “You might want to take off your shoes for this.” He glanced at Beomgyu over his shoulder, eyes gleaming with excitement. “Come on in.” He said, and ducked inside.
Beomgyu raised a brow but toed off his sandals and followed anyway. The passage was short and cramped, the rocks cool and slimy against his outstretched hands. The air smelt of damp stone, salt, and the rich, decaying scent of the ocean. Then, about ten feet further, the tunnel opened up abruptly.
He blinked, adjusting to the sudden brightness—and gasped.
He was in a beautiful cavern, with a small waterfall sliding off the smooth stone at the far end of the cave, producing a dripping sound which echoed within the hollow space. Thin strokes of light forced their way in through the gaps between the kelp, hitting the high arch of the ceiling with a soft golden aura. As Beomgyu moved further into the cave, the water lapped at his feet gently, emitting a quiet splashing sound. Algae glowed a muted, fluorescent blue in the waters, illuminating the cavern with a slow pulsating rhythm.
When he finally remembered how to breathe, he shook his head in awe. “Hyung…this is incredible.”
“I found this place a few weeks ago.” The taller one said, smiling in satisfaction at Beomgyu’s reaction. His voice created a slight reverb as he sat himself on a stone in the centre of the space. “Thought you’d want to see it for yourself.”
Beomgyu walked further in, turning in a slow circle, trying to take it all in. “How has no one else found it?”
“The entrance is completely hidden in high tide,” Soobin explained as Beomgyu joined him on the cold stone, the two of them barely fitting on its surface. “The water fills the entire chamber. And even at low tide, it would be hard to find it unless you knew exactly where to look.”
There it was again—the comfortable silence. But within the enclosure of the cavern, with the mixed hues of blue and gold painting a beautiful canvas on the ceiling, with the comfortable dampness around his ankles, Beomgyu itched to allow the words he’d held back all those years to crawl out of his throat.
Beomgyu risked a glance at Soobin, but he wasn’t facing him. His head was turned, blond bangs casting shadows over his eyes as he stared at the side of the cavern wall. Beomgyu resisted the urge to lean over and tuck his strands behind his ear.
“Soobinnie,” Beomgyu breathed, his voice barely a whisper. “I think I’m in love with you.”
There was a prolonged silence after that. The only sound that could be heard was the continuous dripping sound of the waterfall, and Beomgyu’s own erratic heartbeat pounding in his ears. He didn’t dare to breathe, didn’t dare to do anything that could interrupt the heavy silence between them.
Finally, Soobin exhaled, still refusing to turn back. “No you don’t.” He said, his voice strained, as if he was making a deliberate effort to keep it soft.
That did nothing to reassure Beomgyu as he froze, the fingers that he’d been tapping on the cool stone surface nervously coming to a halt. “…what?” He replied, hating how his voice wavered at the syllable.
Soobin finally turned to him, his eyes glassy with a potent mix of unsaid emotions—hurt, fear, and a desperate longing that held years’ worth of late-night regrets and concealed cries into empty rooms. “You can’t. Not when I’m about to—“ he swallowed, shaking his head numbly. “It’s just the sex talking.”
Beomgyu laughed at that, a mirthless, choked sound that echoed within the cavern of their repressed feelings. “Don’t you fucking dare tell me what I can or cannot do.” His voice was shaking evidently now, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
The silence stretched out between them, tense and torturous, before Beomgyu forced the lump down his throat, ignoring the stinging pain in the back of his eyes. His head felt dizzy, as if he had been running at a hundred miles per hour. “Soobin,” no hyung, no Soobinnie. “Why did you take me here today?”
Soobin opened his mouth, but for a moment, no words came out. His eyes were rimmed with red, and for a moment, he looked haggard and exhausted, reminding Beomgyu of the appearance of a man who had to endure a lifetime worth of concealed emotions. “Gyu,” he said, his voice a cracked, broken thing. “I’m leaving.”
Beomgyu’s blood ran cold, feeling as if he had just punched him. “What? Leaving? Why?”
Soobin took a shuddering breath. “My dad…he’s been diagnosed with a rare case of leukemia. There’s a specialist in Edinburgh. A treatment plan. I…I have to go with him. I’m the only family he has left.”
Edinburgh. Scotland.
Beomgyu stared at him, feeling as if the world was tilting on its axis beneath his feet. His dad. The man who had never once cared for him, the one who had come home reeking of alcohol and sex every day during Soobin’s childhood.
“Your dad?” The words came out laced with an incredulous disbelief, curling into something darker. “You’re dropping your entire life…for him?”
Soobin flinched at his tone. “Gyu, don’t. He’s sick. He’s my father.”
“I know who he is!” Beomgyu snapped, agitation rising in his throat in an explosion of words. “I know he was never there for you! I know you had spent more nights sneaking into my house than staying in your own because you hated how the house stank of beer! I know he missed your high-school graduation! I was the one who held you when you cried about it! I was the one who listened for hours when he missed your birthday, again! And now…now you’re just going to run back to him? You’re throwing us away for a man who never gave you a time of day?”
“It’s not like that!” Soobin snapped as well, his voice rising. “This is different! This is serious!”
“It’s always been serious!” Beomgyu shot back, his vision starting to blur. “You were serious, we could’ve been serious! But now you’re leaving—the one thing you promised not to do!”
“It was a childhood promise, Beomgyu! This is real! This is my father!” The second the words slipped out of his mouth, he clamped his lips shut, eyes widening and brimming with regret.
There was a short pause between them as Beomgyu closed his eyes, attempting to steady his breathing to no avail. “A childhood promise?” He said, his voice small. “Was that all it meant to you?”
“Beomgyu, I didn’t—“
“Your dad needs you? And what am I?” Beomgyu demanded, his voice cracking with a pain so acute it felt like a physical wound being torn open. “What has the past fifteen years meant to you? A placeholder? A hobby? We promised each other to stay because we were two kids terrified of being abandoned. And now you’re abandoning me. For him. The original abandoner. The fucking irony.”
He slid off the cold stone tile, his feet splashing against the water violently. He made to move towards the exit, the beautiful cave suddenly feeling like an elaborate cage, suffocating and asphyxiating.
Soobin caught at his arm at the very last second. “Beomgyu, please.” And Beomgyu hated hearing the unguarded, fragile tremor in his tone. “Don’t go.”
Beomgyu stopped but didn’t turn back. He couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t bear to see his tear-streaked and anguished expression, knowing it would be seared into his memory forever, but to see it now would undo it completely.
“You don’t get to ask me to stay,” he said, his voice cold and flat, the previous fire burnt out of him, leaving only ashes. “You don’t get to make promises about forever and leave when it gets hard.”
With those final, devastating words, he stormed off to the crevice, pushing through the kelp and into the burning rays of sunlight outside.
For once, he didn’t look back.
+͓̽x͓̽+͓̽
2nd July, 2025
Beomgyu has always loved the beach.
He adores the beach with a fervent, uncomplicated passion. He loved the sun’s warm embrace on his skin, the rhythmic crash of waves that sounded like the earth itself was breathing, and the endless expanse of shimmering blue that melted into the horizon. He loves the feeling of warm sand under his feet, the thrill of a cool wave breaking over his ankles, and the simple, meditative pleasure of walking by the shore with no real destination.
Yet, for all his love, he harbours a deep resentment towards it. He despises the harsh, merciless wind that carries sand towards his eyes in an invasive manner. He loathes the oppressive, sticky heat of the sun that transforms into a relentless glare, and the way salt water leaves a stiff, itchy film on his skin and a bitter tinge on his lips.
And most of all, he hates the vast emptiness of the sand beside him, a jarring reminder of his own isolating silence.
It was the first time he’d returned to the beach in the past two months. The moment he had turned the corner, the nostalgic scenery coming into view, the pang in his chest had amplified, twisting into something aching and ugly. But the weight had also served as an anchor, holding him fast on the shore as the tide crept closer. He sat with his knees drawn up, arms wrapped tightly around himself—not against the evening chill, but in a futile attempt to hold himself together. His fingers were tracing meaningless patterns on the sand, a repetitive, cyclical movement. He didn't flinch as the cold foam of a spent wave finally reached his toes, the water feeling like a cold echo of the numbness that had settled deep within his bones. Then—
From somewhere behind him, a stone was flung into the unforgiving ocean, bouncing one, two, three, four times before it disappeared into the waves below.
Beomgyu didn’t turn this time. Didn’t need to.
A familiar voice rang out behind him. “Flat and thin, smooth, not too light nor heavy.”
Soobin appeared beside him, sitting cross-legged on the sand, and Beomgyu felt his gaze lingering heavily on him. “Did I get that right?”
Despite himself, Beomgyu allowed a small, barely visible smile to creep up his lips. “Thank god you did. I was just starting to doubt my teaching abilities.”
They sat, a few feet apart from each other. In the distance, the wind howled its mournful tune.
“I didn’t think you’d be here,” Soobin said at last.
“I didn’t think you’d be here either,” Beomgyu admitted, not looking at him. “Last tour of the premises?”
Soobin flinched, the movement imperceptible, but Beomgyu noticed anyway. “Something like that.” He replied shortly.
A heavy silence descended upon them, filled only by the wind and waves. There was too much to say, yet no adequate way to say it. Each word felt like taking steps on a thin, frozen lake.
“How’s your dad?” Beomgyu asked. It was a safe, painful topic. The reason for the chasm between them.
Soobin shrugged. “As good as he can be, I guess. We’re…” he hesitated, his eyes searching Beomgyu for a reaction. “…we’re leaving tomorrow.”
Beomgyu didn’t move. Didn’t react. Pretended as if his heart didn’t sink and shatter into smithereens. “How long?”
“If things are looking positive, then a minimum of six years.”
Another silence. This one was even more suffocating.
“Gyu, about what you said, at the cave—“ Soobin started, his voice unsure, but Beomgyu interrupted him.
“Don’t. You don’t have to. I was…I was angry, and I said inexcusable things to hurt you. I didn’t once consider the fact that you were in pain as well. What I said, they were…” he struggled, trying to find the right words. “They were unforgivable.”
“They were true,” Soobin corrected him softly, surprising him. “You were right. About all of it. About me being afraid. About me running away.” His eyes never wavered from Beomgyu. “I am a coward. And I’m abandoning you. And it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”
The raw admission disarmed Beomgyu completely—he had expected defensiveness and justification, not this quiet, accepting confession.
“Then why are you doing it?” The question tumbled out of him before he could stop it, aching with bewilderment and hurt.
“Because he’s still my dad,” Soobin said, his voice laced with exhaustion. “And despite everything…the silence, the missed birthdays…he was also in pain. And the thought of him being there, sick and scared, and me being here…I couldn’t live with myself. I know it doesn’t make sense to you. I know it feels like a betrayal. But it feels like a betrayal of him to stay.”
Beomgyu remained silent. He didn’t feel the burst of anger he had expected, but instead, a calming solidarity. Soobin’s words didn’t erase the pain, but they made the edges of it less sharp. He wasn’t choosing his father over him. He was being pulled apart by two different, equally powerful loyalties. An impossible situation. And both choices cause immeasurable pain.
“I get it,” he said finally. He didn’t get it. Not fully, at least, but he could see where Soobin was coming from. “I don’t like it. It fucking destroys me. But I get it.”
Soobin exhaled. Out of the corner of his eye, Beomgyu saw him smile, a small, grateful upturn of his lips. “Thank you.” He whispered.
They sat there for a moment, two lonely figures on an empty beach, two boys who had shared so much yet too little together.
Then, Soobin took a deep breath, his voice barely audible. “I have something for you. He reached into his pockets, devastatingly similar to all those years ago. A slow, steady breath hitched in Beomgyu’s chest when the older produced a familiar silver chain.
The salt air burned his lungs with the sharp scent of memory as he stared at the half-heart necklace from all those years ago. His half. The chain was slightly worn and used, but it was still beautiful after all that time. It laid on Soobin’s outstretched palm, the shining silver looking like a frozen piece of the sea itself.
Beomgyu didn’t speak. Couldn’t speak. Could only stare at the metallic necklace in disbelief. “How…?”
“I found it.” Soobin’s voice was thick with emotion. “A few days ago. I was packing up my room. It was stuck between one of my old books at the bottom of my bag. The clasp must have snagged on it at the cafe. It was never lost on the beach. It was with me the whole time.”
A choked sound, half-laugh, half-gasp, escaped Beomgyu. The irony was so perfect, so painful, it was almost beautiful. It had never been lost. It had just been misplaced. Waiting to be found.
When his eyes finally met Soobin’s for the first time that day, Soobin smiled at him, a saddened, wistful smile that held years of ‘I wish, I wish, I wish’. “I couldn’t keep my promise from that day, so I’m here to make a new one.” He reached over, gently lifting Beomgyu’s hand and placing it over the comforting coldness of the necklace, so that their fingers brushed over each other’s.
“Beomgyu, I promise you that no matter how long I may be gone, my feelings for you will never change. No matter how far apart we are from each other, you will always have my half, and I will have yours.” Soobin’s eyes carried a warm sincerity that made Beomgyu’s heart stutter at the truthfulness of it all. “That day, at the beach, you were right about one thing. We’ll never change. We don’t ever have to change. Not for my father, not for anyone else. If…if you’ll let me, I’ll always be willing to find you at the beach, over and over again, just like we have in the past fifteen years.”
For a long moment, the only sounds between them are the gentle shush of the waves on the sand and the frantic hammering of Beomgyu’s heart. The space between them, once filled with easy camaraderie, now cracked with a new, terrifying electricity. Beomgyu watched as Soobin’s smile softened, his gaze flickering down to the ravenette’s lips for the briefest moment before returning to his eyes. It was a question. A palpable invitation.
All the witty retorts evaporated from his mind. There was only Soobin’s face, pale under the sunlight, and the overwhelming need to close the distance. He moved slowly, giving the older every chance to pull away, to laugh it off, to break the spell.
Soobin didn’t move.
Beomgyu bridged the final few inches, and their lips met.
It was far from their usual, hungry kisses—rather, it started off as a soft, hesitant press of lips. Soobin’s lips were warm and tasted faintly of the sea salt from the air. It was so different from before, yet utterly perfect. It felt less like a beginning and more like a homecoming, like a missing piece of a puzzle he hadn't even known was incomplete suddenly clicking into place. When Soobin kissed him back, his hand coming up to cup tentatively on his cheek, the world narrowed down to this single, infinite point. It was a promise whispered against their lips, a secret exchanged on the empty beach, the first silent, undeniable step into a shared future they were only just beginning to imagine.
When the kiss ended, they didn’t pull apart, but instead, Beomgyu rested his forehead against Soobin’s. “Come back after six years,” he whispered. “Then we’ll see.”
Soobin laughed, the sound sending vibrations through Beomgyu’s body. “Just so we’re both saying it…I love you too.”
Beomgyu sucked in a breath. When he was younger, he had pictured sappy confessions underneath the moonlight as they counted the stars one by one; had visualized romantic professions of love on a rooftop overlooking the city; had imagined exchanging the sweet “I love you”s as fireworks erupted in the distance. Not like this. Never like this.
Yet, somehow, this was better than anything he had ever imagined.
He allowed himself to close his eyes as he drew back reluctantly. “You shouldn’t have said that, you know. I don’t think I can ever let you go now.” The joke carried years’ worth of longing and quiet yearning.
Soobin’s smile dimmed. “I know. But I couldn’t bear to leave without saying it. Does that make me selfish?”
“No. Far from it.” Beomgyu had attached the necklace to his nape properly by then, not realizing how much he had missed the coolness of the metal on his skin until then. “And I’m sorry that I ever made you feel otherwise.”
Soobin hummed in response. They didn’t say anything else after that. They didn’t need to. The silence between them spoke a thousand words that they didn’t know how to voice.
Eventually, as the stars began to paint the sky with faint beams of white, Beomgyu squeezed Soobin’s hand gently. “You should go. It’s not safe out late.” A rueful, regretful reminiscence of the night they first met.
Soobin grumbled in mock annoyance. “I’m twenty-four. Don’t tell me what to do.” He said, but slowly got to his feet anyways. For a moment, he stayed there, unmoving, unsure.
Beomgyu managed a smile. “Go.” He whispered. “Go take care of your dad. Live your life out there. Don’t worry about me. Don’t feel guilty. Just know that I’m here. And this…” he tapped the necklace at the base of his throat. “This is waiting for you. I’m waiting for you.”
Soobin looked at him for a long moment, as if memorizing his face, the set of his jaw, the look in his eyes. Finally, he nodded, a slow, accepting movement, and stepped back. Away from the shore. Away from Beomgyu.
He was a few metres away when the younger called out his name. “Soobin-hyung.”
He glanced, question in his eyes.
Beomgyu felt his throat turn dry as he swallowed. What was he supposed to say? I love you? Stay safe? He shook his head. “Nothing. Goodbye, hyung.”
Soobin looked at him, really looked, and he didn’t see the shell of a man with a heart that was broken, and mended, and broken again. He saw the shadow of the boy who had taught him to skip stones, who had held his hand during horror movies, who had comforted him as he dressed his wound after gym classes in 6th grade. And he smiled, the same smile Beomgyu had fallen in love with the night they first met. “Not goodbye.” He corrected. His voice was impossibly soft, allowing the wind to carry his words to that latter. “See you later, Gyu.”
Beomgyu returned the smile, albeit fainter and more watery. “See you later, Soobinnie.”
He watched as the older turned away, walking off the beach and fading into a speck in the distance. Until that disappeared as well.
He was left sitting alone at the beach, with only the ghost of the boy he loves for company, a shimmering echo in the salt spray who kept pace just where the waves feathered into foam. He closed his eyes against the sting of memory, and when he opened them, he watched as the next wave receded, leaving behind a single, perfect conch shell at his feet—an impossible, tangible gift from the sea. And for the first time, the memories didn't feel like a loss, but like a love he got to keep.