Chapter Text
Beomgyu keeps his head down as he stands at the checkout, hoping that if he doesn’t interact with the cashier, time will go by faster. He counts the beeps in his head, keeping track of how many items she has scanned, and how many more until she’s done.
Six, seven, eight.
“That’ll be—”
He doesn’t register the total amount before he’s swiping his card, moving on autopilot. Beomgyu grabs the bag from the counter as she prints the receipt. When she places it in his hand, Beomgyu knows to brace himself. This happens every time, he knows better than to be caught off guard.
“Thank you! Have a nice day ma’am!”
Despite being prepared, the words never hurt any less.
Beomgyu nods in acknowledgment, offering a quiet you too, before leaving quickly. He feels like he can breathe again as he walks through the exit, the crisp winter air hitting his face. The cold fills his lungs and forces him to be present, the bite keeping him afloat. Perhaps this is the most alive he’s ever felt.
His mind is on overdrive as he walks. Maybe it’s his fault this keeps happening. He’s the one who decided to be different, who thought that maybe the world was finally built for him. Maybe he had too much faith in the city he’s called home his entire life. Beomgyu isn’t someone that exists in this place.
He walks fast, barely registering the bustling streets around him as he heads to his apartment. His thoughts spiral as he keeps up his pace. Maybe his clothes aren’t baggy enough, his hair not short enough, his face not chiseled enough. No matter what Beomgyu does, his efforts never feel like enough.
Before he knows it, he’s standing at his front door, unlocking it. When he finally steps into his apartment and shuts the door behind him, Beomgyu lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He doesn’t know when the walk home turned from calming to suffocating, but the tension in his body is evident. Perhaps a shower will do him good.
Beomgyu sets his bags on the counter. He doesn’t bother to put anything away; it’ll be fine until he’s done. His footsteps sound too delicate as he walks back to his bedroom. His hands feel too small as he rummages through his dresser, looking for something oversized to wear. The thought of clothes clinging to his skin sounds like a nightmare right now.
His mood sinks down deeper as he steps into the bathroom. Beomgyu sheds his clothes, layer by grueling layer, until he’s left in his binder and boxers. There’s no ignoring reality as he peels off the constricting fabric. Once he’s left bare, he turns to face his reflection in the mirror. His eyes trail over his body and the lines left behind by the tight material.
Yeah, the sight of his body disgusts him, but at least he can breathe again.
Beomgyu stares himself down as he bends his knees, squatting until his rounded chest is just out of view in the mirror. Like this, he can pretend, can believe the illusion that there’s nothing below the reflected image. He smiles to himself as he looks at the jut of his collarbones, the smooth planes of his shoulders and across his chest.
Manly. Masculine. That’s what he tells himself anyways.
He lets the feeling sit as he gets in the shower. He tries not to think too hard as he washes his body, trying not to dwell on what is under his fingertips. The water is scolding, tinging Beomgyu’s skin pink as he attempts to scrub away the emotions from earlier. One day, he’ll remember that he is not the problem. For now, though, he continues to scrub at his sensitive skin.
Beomgyu turns off the water, already feeling a bit better now that he is clean. He hurriedly dries himself off, ruffling his hair with the towel to stop the dripping so he can get dressed. Realistically, he knows he shouldn’t put his binder back on. He’s already worn it for almost eight hours and getting it on right after a shower is always a struggle. But, a small part of him feels like he needs to wear it. He needs that flat chest reassurance, that feeling of being all boy. Beomgyu sighs, deciding that the struggle is worth it.
“Fuck,” he mutters as he tries to pull the fabric over his ribs. It sticks to his tacky skin, creating a challenge Beomgyu isn’t sure he’s up for. After several tiring minutes, the binder is snug over his chest. He smiles breathlessly, his victory perking his mood up slightly.
He throws on the rest of his clothes, drowning in the abundance of fabric. It makes him feel better though. The oversized shirt gives the appearance of a boxier frame. Combined with the binder, his chest appears flat. Another victory for Beomgyu.
After doing his skincare, he has no energy to give to his hair. He dries it with his towel, fluffing it up before deeming it good enough. With his dirty clothes and towel discarded in the laundry hamper, Beomgyu makes his way to the kitchen. The items from earlier are still on the counter, patiently waiting to be put away. Beomgyu sighs before unbagging all of them. It’s nothing super important, just his pantry restock, but Beomgyu knows if he doesn’t do it now, the chances of him doing it later are slim.
His mind is numb as he goes through the motions. He counts the items as he places them on the shelves of his cabinets.
Six, seven, eight.
Soon, he’s done and can finally allow himself time to wallow. Beomgyu shoves the empty grocery bags into a drawer, leaving them for later, before throwing himself onto the couch. His body goes limp, the last bit of energy he had finally seeping out of him. There’s still several hours left in his day though. He still has to make dinner. Beomgyu grumbles to himself at the mere thought of getting up right now.
Words should not affect him like this. They shouldn’t make him feel physically sick, weak, invalidated. Yet, here he is, letting misery consume him on the couch because a stupid person ruined his day. Logically, Beomgyu knows that she didn’t deliberately try to hurt him. He knows that not being out to everyone will cause moments like this, moments where he wishes the earth would swallow him whole. But knowing that doesn’t make it hurt less.
I’m a boy. I’m a man, Beomgyu repeats in his head. He chants the words over and over in his mind, hoping that if he does it enough it’ll stick. He’s a boy. He’s a man. Those are his last coherent thoughts before he dozes off, the fight in his body finally giving out and letting him rest.
Beomgyu isn’t sure how much time has passed when he finally stirs. He blinks the sleep out of his eyes as he tries to wake himself up. It’s dark now, that’s the first thing he registers. He sits up and looks around for his phone, groaning once he realizes he left it on the kitchen counter. With a sigh, Beomgyu gets up, dragging his feet to the kitchen. His mind is still groggy from sleep as he squints at his bright phone screen.
11p.m. Well, fuck.
Now, it is too late to order out, too late for Beomgyu to even think about cooking something for dinner. He stares at his screen, defeated, until it goes black, snapping him out of his overthinking induced trance.
What to do, what to do, he thinks to himself.
It’s then that Beomgyu remembers the existence of a small 24 hour cafe not too far from his apartment. A roughly ten minute walk is nothing when he wants to avoid making something for himself. His mind is made up quickly.
Beomgyu heads to his room to grab a heavy jacket, anticipating the low temperature at this time of night. As he grabs it from his closet, his eyes catch his sketchbook sitting abandoned on his desk. He stares at it for longer than necessary, contemplating, considering. It has been a while since he used it. His mind has been too preoccupied lately to feel any ounce of creativity. Between classes and assignments and existing, all of Beomgyu’s energy has been used up, leaving no room to unwind or have fun. Maybe it’s time he changed that.
Without another thought, Beomgyu grabs the sketchbook off his desk, along with his pencils and pens. He walks to the kitchen, picking up his bag and stuffing the art supplies in it, along with his wallet and keys. Beomgyu keeps the overthinking at bay as he slides on his shoes. He’s out the door before he can second guess himself.
The cold air hits his face as he steps out of the apartment building. It feels like a nice reminder of his existence, of how he’s still alive. Despite the chill, Beomgyu takes his time walking to the coffee shop. His pace is leisure, wanting to soak in the entirety of the ten minute walk. He needs some time to clear his mind anyways.
It’s peaceful to exist on an almost empty street, no one to perceive him, no strangers he needs to be wary of. The only noises are the occasional car driving past him and his own buzzing thoughts. Beomgyu tries to keep his brain in positive mode. He needs it after what happened earlier.
Tonight will be a good break from his routine, he tries to remind himself. He won’t be tired for a while anyways, thanks to his nap, so why not try to make the most of it? And since it’s Friday night, Beomgyu doesn’t have class in the morning. A win for him.
The walk goes by quickly with how fast Beomgyu’s brain jumps from thought to thought. Soon, he’s pushing the front door open, the bell above ringing loudly to signal his arrival. He takes a second to adjust to the bright lights of the shop, too stark a contrast to the dark, dimly lit streets.
Beomgyu has never actually been to this coffee shop before. He’s passed it so many times, but never stopped to go inside. It’s small, that’s the first thing Beomgyu notices. Small, but cozy. There are a few places to sit and the shop is completely empty save for the employee behind the counter. Looks like Beomgyu will get his peace after all.
The barista is already looking at him when Beomgyu makes his way up to the counter. After a quick glance at the menu, he steps closer to order. A sweet smile greets him.
“Hi, welcome! What can I get for you?” The barista asks, voice just a tad too chipper for Beomgyu’s energy level right now. Maybe his positivity will latch onto Beomgyu.
Beomgyu stutters through his order. A coffee and a bagel. Sure, it’s not the most nutritious dinner, but Beomgyu never told himself it would be. Any sustenance is acceptable right now.
The barista punches his order in, ringing him up and signaling him to pay. Beomgyu pulls a few bills from his wallet, handing them over. He glances at the man’s name tag as he makes change.
Yeonjun. It suits him, he thinks to himself.
Beomgyu takes the bills Yeonjun hands him and immediately stuffs them into the tip jar. He doesn’t make eye contact as he does it, not wanting to make it seem like a big deal. Beomgyu has always had a problem with drawing attention.
“Thank you,” Yeonjun says, his voice sincere. Beomgyu just nods in acknowledgment, not looking up. “It’ll be out shortly.”
Beomgyu mutters out a quiet thank you, before turning to pick a table. Every table is empty, leaving him with a decision to make. He decides to sit at the one closest to the door, pressed against the big, glass windows adorning the front of the building. The nice street view draws Beomgyu in. He’s always been more sensitive and sentimental, needing the right environment and feeling to recharge properly. Today is no exception.
He walks to the table, setting his bag down on the empty table top before sitting down. The quiet in the shop is more peaceful than the deafening silence of his apartment. It feels… comforting. Despite Yeonjun being here with him, Beomgyu feels like this environment is what he needed. He can already feel himself coming out of his slump.
Beomgyu doesn’t know how long he sits there, spacing out. He doesn’t snap out of it until Yeonjun starts walking towards him, his order in hand. Beomgyu startles, quickly moving his bag so Yeonjun can set the items on the table. He offers Beomgyu a friendly smile, which Beomgyu can’t help but return.
“Enjoy,” Yeonjun says simply. He turns and walks back to the front counter before Beomgyu can respond, leaving the boy with his thoughts once again. He watches Yeonjun leave. It isn’t until Yeonjun is behind the counter, facing Beomgyu again, that he looks away, not wanting to be caught staring.
Beomgyu turns his attention to his food. His stomach growls at the sight and he decides to dig in. He eats quietly, in his own little world as he tries to savor the taste of the bagel. Maybe things do taste better when you take the time to actually enjoy them.
Soon, he is finishing it off. He washes it down with the remainder of his Americano, tempted to order another one. Beomgyu gets up to throw his garbage away, making eye contact with Yeonjun on the way to the trash can. He gives the other a slight bow, trying to say thank you without speaking. Yeonjun seems to get the message and smiles as he bows his head back. Friendly, Beomgyu thinks to himself.
As Beomgyu sits back down, he grabs his bag, pulling his things out and spreading them across the table. Sketchbook, pencils, pens, eraser. He’s all set. He sits unmoving, unsure of where to start. The feeling of discouragement starts to sink in. The longer Beomgyu stares at his supplies, the more dreadful the feeling becomes.
Maybe he needs a warmup. Beomgyu nods to himself, agreeing with his own thoughts because that is where he is at the moment. Yes, a warmup sketch would do him some good; get him in the zone, break in his rusty drawing skills, it will be perfect. He opens his sketchbook to a new page, staring down at it with ideas swirling behind his eyes.
Whenever Beomgyu wanted to mindlessly doodle, he always went to cartoons for inspiration. The simple silhouettes and flowy lines helped loosen him up for bigger projects. It was always his go to and it never led him astray. Beomgyu’s mind shuffles through the different cartoons he could pull his inspiration from, trying to figure out what he was in the mood for today. He smiles to himself when his brain lands on one that sounds appealing.
He thinks that drawing Pokémon would make him the most happy right now. Beomgyu smiles to himself as he begins writing down the names of a few that he could draw. Drawing them from memory is a feat he’s not sure he can tackle, but he can try. And if he ends up pulling out his phone for a reference photo that is nobody’s business but his own.
With a small smile on his face, Beomgyu gets to work. He sketches ambiguous shapes and lines, creating simple bases for the complicated creatures to come. A page full of blobs soon starts to become a page of Pokémon-esque animals… they are close enough for the time being. Beomgyu grabs his eraser, working it over the sketches lightly, until they are faded and perfect to draw over.
He’s not sure how much time has passed, but his neck is stiff when he pulls back to look at the full picture. Some are definitely better than others. His Pikachu is great, whereas his Oddish looks off… and that’s putting it lightly. Instead of getting upset, Beomgyu takes a deep breath and flips to the next page. Using a reference it is. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, he’s just rusty.
Beomgyu pulls out his phone and looks up pictures of all the Pokémon on his list, following the photos closely, not wanting to miss any details. His pencil glides across the paper, each stroke helping ease his mind more and more. Beomgyu loses himself in the craft, working for who knows how long. He repeats his earlier process, sketch, erase, sketch again, until he’s finally sitting up straight, putting his pencil down on the table.
A quiet groan leaves Beomgyu’s lips as he stretches, muscles stiff from being hunched over for so long. He looks back at his work once he’s done. His lips stretch into a grin, finally satisfied with what he’s created. Everything looks good to him, great even. The lull in his mind from earlier is slowly being overtaken with serotonin once again. With his newfound enthusiasm, he decides he is going to order another coffee. He deserves it.
Beomgyu makes his way to the counter once again, ordering another Americano. Yeonjun greets him with the same friendliness as before and Beomgyu can’t help but give the same energy back. His cheer is contagious.
Soon, he’s sitting down with his second coffee, ready to get back to work. Beomgyu takes a big drink, feeling the cold liquid travel through his body, the chill making him feel alive. He sets it down on the table in favor of picking up his pen. The sketch looks nice, but he thinks it would look better in ink. Line work is always the most tedious for Beomgyu, but it’s still his favorite part.
He uncaps the pen and dives back in, losing himself in his work once again. He becomes a vessel for art, a tool to create, a mere control for the end of his pen. Line after line, Beomgyu hunches over the sketchbook and does his best to replicate the lead drawing under his pen. His lines are clean, barely shaky despite how rusty he really is. After each creature is complete, he sits up to admire, proud of what he is creating.
Beomgyu always feels the best when he has a pen in his hand. He really needs to carve out more time for this. Every time he comes back to art, it feels like he’s finally found his sense of belonging once again. No longer is he Beomgyu, the person who thinks he’s a boy; he’s Beomgyu, the artist. That title fits him better than any title another person could give him.
He’s halfway done with the page when he hears the bell above the cafe door chime. Beomgyu is surprised another person is here this late. He checks his phone. 12:30a.m. Maybe they need some peace of mind as well.
Beomgyu tries not to look in the new person’s direction as they walk up to the counter. He tries not to listen to the stranger order as he focuses on his sketchbook. It’s only a few minutes later that the person is walking by Beomgyu, likely headed to their own table. Beomgyu dares to look as the person’s back is turned to him.
Broad, that’s the first word that comes to Beomgyu’s mind when looking at them. They’re a tall guy with a bigger build, muscular. Beomgyu isn’t sure if he’s envious or attracted, queer feelings are complicated. Their physic is visible even under their loose fitting clothes, giving Beomgyu even more to be jealous about. One day, clothes will fit him like that.
The man stops at the table just in front of Beomgyu’s, setting his stuff down with a loud thud. There aren’t many tables inside the small coffee shop, Beomgyu can’t be upset about the close proximity. He walks to the other side of the table, now facing Beomgyu as he places his bag in the empty chair. Beomgyu cannot stop himself from looking up, curiosity getting the better of him. His eyes land on the stranger’s face.
Beautiful is the best word to describe him. Soft eyes with a sharp nose and plush lips, Beomgyu would swoon if he wasn’t trying to be sneaky. His eyes trail down to the man’s jawline, also sharp, before going back up to his eyes. However, the stranger is already looking at him. Their eyes meet for a split second and Beomgyu panics, pulling his gaze away and looking back down like nothing ever happened.
He hears shuffling and dares a glance back up. The stranger leaves his table, heading in the direction of the counter. Beomgyu uses his absence as an opportunity to look at his table. It’s stacked with books and notebooks, with the boy’s laptop sitting next to them. Late night studying, Beomgyu presumes.
When the boy makes his way back to the table, Beomgyu looks down again, renewed interest for the drawing in front of him. Right, that’s what he is here for. He shakes his head to himself and tries to get back to work, carefully inking his next creature. Just like that, he’s able to zone back in and the mystery boy is pushed from his mind in favor of Snorlax.
Beomgyu registers Yeonjun delivering the stranger’s order, but he doesn’t stop his flow to pay much attention. Only a few more to outline and then he can erase his sketch and be done. He hasn’t felt this excited to finish something in a long time, he can feel the giddiness itching under his skin, the impatience trying to claw its way out. But Beomgyu refuses to rush, not wanting to mess up and ruin this for himself. He can be patient and take his time.
He’s on the last one when he sees the stranger get up out of the corner of his eye. Beomgyu pays him no mind as he walks by his table, probably to throw his trash away. Distantly, he hears the cluttering of plastic. He keeps his hand steady though, carefully outlining. The tip of his pen meets a previously inked line. Beomgyu pulls his hand back to look at the newly completed drawing.
It’s finished. Beomgyu smiles while looking down at the sketchbook page, pleased with how it turned out. The euphoric feeling flows through his body and lifts his spirits, something he hasn’t felt in a while. It’s easy to forget about what happened earlier today when he feels so good now.
As he’s admiring his work, the stranger starts to walk by his table again. Beomgyu doesn’t bother looking in the man’s direction, assuming that he is just headed back to his own table. The footsteps slow to a stop next to Beomgyu, but he’s in his own world, unaware of the presence next to him.
“Excuse me.”
The voice startles Beomgyu out of his trance. He looks up at the culprit and is met with the face of the stranger. Somehow, he’s even more handsome up close.
“I’m sorry for interrupting,” the boy starts. “And for being nosy, but I love your art.” Beomgyu’s eyes widen at his words, taken aback, but feeling inclined to smile nonetheless. “It’s Snorlax, right? And Eevee?”
Beomgyu’s smile grows as he lets out a small giggle.
“Close. It’s Vulpix,” Beomgyu corrects him. “Though from far away it does kind of look like Eevee.”
The boy’s cheeks start to turn pink as he squints at the drawing, leaning down slightly to get a better look.
“Ah, this is what I get for not wearing my glasses. That’s obviously Vulpix, you drew him so well.” Beomgyu blushes at the compliment. “Are you an art major?”
Beomgyu shakes his head.
“No, this is just a hobby. I’m a business major,” he replies. Beomgyu tries to will himself to stay cool. Hopefully he seems more calm than he feels right now. A stranger is talking to him, a cute boy at that, and is complimenting him. He’s not sure how he hasn’t combusted yet, but there is still time for it to happen.
“Wow, you’re so good! Do you draw a lot of Pokémon?” The boy freezes for a second before laughing lightly, scratching the back of his head, seemingly embarrassed. “Ah, sorry, I don’t mean to pry or anything. Have a good—”
“No, no! I don’t mind,” Beomgyu rushes to say. The stranger is endearing and sweet and Beomgyu doesn’t want him to think he is a bother at all. It’s been a while since someone has captivated Beomgyu this quickly. “I can show you?” Beomgyu slides his sketchbook across the table, offering it, and the seat in front of him, to the boy.
He doesn’t know what has come over him. Beomgyu has never shown anyone his art so willingly. His sketchbook is private, full of guilty pleasure art, hyperfixations, things that Beomgyu prefers to keep to himself. But here he is, offering it up to a stranger. And somehow, it doesn’t feel like a risk or a mistake. Why does it feel so easy?
The boy lights up, sitting in the chair across from Beomgyu. He takes the sketchbook and begins flipping through it slowly. His hands are gentle, handling it like it's the most delicate thing in the world, like it’ll break in his hands if he is not careful. The boy studies each page, giving the sketches his full attention and not taking any of them for granted. Beomgyu likes him already.
“Oh my god, these are so good! Seriously!” The stranger’s voice is a little too loud in the quiet coffee shop, but Beomgyu just finds it endearing. He looks away, feeling shy under the attention.
“Ah, thank you…” Beomgyu trails off, waiting for the boy to fill the space with his name.
“Kai. My name’s Kai,” he says. Beomgyu smiles at him.
Pretty, he thinks to himself.
“Beomgyu,” he offers. Part of him wants to feel light and free, being able to give a stranger his name like this. He wants this moment to last forever. But the dread creeps in slowly, bringing him back to reality, to his unfortunate reality. Beomgyu’s head is filling with what ifs and bad outcomes. What if Kai caught on and laughed in his face? Or what if the situation got bad, dangerous? There is a worker here. Beomgyu is sure they would be able to call the police if—
“Beomgyu. I like it, it suits you.”
And just like that, the weight of Beomgyu’s world is lifted from his shoulders. The burden of dreadful hypotheticals dissipating into thin air. Silence spreads over them as Beomgyu processes everything. Kai speaks again to break it.
“I, um, I’m actually an art major myself,” he says. Beomgyu looks back at him in shock, lips slightly parted. “Well, music major, but I take fine art. I just like creating things.”
Beomgyu decides to put himself out there. No moment like the present and Kai seems like someone he could be friends with.
“I’d love to see your art sometime,” Beomgyu says quickly, trying to get the words out before he changes his mind and becomes cowardly once again. The confidence begins to fade as quickly as it appeared.
Kai seems shocked, but the wide eyed look is soon replaced with a grin and eyes that reflect how happy he is.
“Of course, I’d love that! Do you come here often?” Kai asks. He flushes when Beomgyu laughs lightly. “I just mean, we could meet here again! Do you, um, frequent here?” Kai stumbles over his words and Beomgyu decides right then that it’s the cutest thing in the world.
“I don’t,” Beomgyu answers. Kai begins to deflate before Beomgyu continues. “But I can make an exception for you.” The boy perks up at that.
“I’d like that a lot.”
“Are you busy tomorrow night? Same time?” Beomgyu asks. He doesn’t know where the bravery came from, but he can’t find it in himself to question it right now. He wants to enjoy what brave Beomgyu has to offer— who knows when he will be back.
“That sounds good,” Kai responds. He stands up from the table, walking back to his own to gather his things. Beomgyu does the same, shoving all of his stuff into his bag. Kai walks back to Beomgyu’s table when he’s done. His arms are full of books as he beams down at Beomgyu. The height difference is much more noticeable now that they’re close like this. Beomgyu tries his best to ignore how he has to tilt his head up slightly to look Kai in the eyes.
“See you then, Beomgyu hyung?” Kai asks.
Hyung. Beomgyu hyung. Hyung.
Warmth fills Beomgyu’s chest as he processes the word. Kai must take his silence as a negative reaction.
“Sorry! I know we’re not close or anything, I don’t even know how old you are. I’m sorry I—”
“Hyung is good,” Beomgyu cuts him off, a big smile plastered on his face. “Hyung is perfect, Kai-yah.” He picks up his back, slinging it over his shoulder before shooting Kai one more smile. “See you tomorrow.”
Beomgyu doesn’t wait for a response before he turns towards the door and leaves. He doesn’t look back as he walks out, the bell chiming once more as he exits and walks down the cold, dark street. The journey home is much lighter than the trek to the coffee shop.
As he walks through his front door, Beomgyu feels the most content he has in a while. He sets his bag down on the kitchen counter. There is no point in unpacking it if he’s going to need everything in it tomorrow as well. He pulls his phone out of his pocket to check the time.
2:05a.m.
It’s then that a tired feeling starts sinking into Beomgyu’s bones, reminding him that he needs to rest. With a sigh, he drags his feet to his bedroom. He gets ready for bed quickly, taking off his binder and changing into comfortable clothes before heading to the bathroom to do his nightly routine. There isn’t much room for thought in Beomgyu’s brain as he washes his face, mind too focused on the fatigue that is starting to consume him. It’s a nice feeling to be too tired to overthink, to be so content that the negative thoughts don’t drain every last drop of energy responsible for keeping him upright.
Soon, Beomgyu is climbing into bed. He pulls the covers up to his chin, sinking down into the mattress as he starts to let sleep win. The sooner he sleeps, the sooner he gets to see Kai again.
Beomgyu’s body goes rigid, eyes flying open as he remembers. He’s meeting Kai tomorrow. They’re meeting again tomorrow night. Beomgyu asked Kai to meet up again. Memories of earlier flash through Beomgyu’s mind. How did he manage to ask for another meetup? The Beomgyu at the coffee shop was somebody else entirely. There is no way he would have been able to talk to Kai on a normal day, let alone ask him on what seems to be a date.
Is it a date? Just that thought alone has Beomgyu’s heartbeat picking up speed. What if it is a date? He has no way to ask, he didn’t ask for Kai’s number. What if Kai doesn’t show up? What if Kai is weirded out by him? The thoughts begin to spiral and Beomgyu feels dizzy.
He shakes his head, as if he can physically shake the thoughts out. Stop it, Beomgyu tells himself. Kai was so sweet earlier, there is no way he would stand Beomgyu up, right? Dwelling on it right before bed wasn’t going to do Beomgyu any good anyways. He takes a deep breath, trying to lure the sleepy feeling back in. He’ll worry about all of this tomorrow.
It takes a few minutes, but eventually Beomgyu is slowly slipping into his slumber. His eyes fall closed as his breathing evens out, finally relaxing once again. Tomorrow, he’ll think rationally about the whole situation. He won’t ruin it for himself by overthinking. Beomgyu is going to meet up with Kai tomorrow night.
Kai is the last thing Beomgyu thinks about before finally falling asleep.