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You knew agreeing to a beach trip with Beomgyu was dangerous.
Not because of the sun. Or the water. Or even the crowd.
But because Beomgyu had a talent for noticing things you wanted to pretend didn’t exist — and then making them impossible to hide, not by calling them out cruelly, but by shining light on them until they felt… less scary.
Still. You didn’t think it’d start this early.
“Y/N.”
You pretend you don’t hear him.
“Y/N.”
You shift on the towel you were sitting on, pulling your oversized shirt — or more like the shirt you stole from him months ago — further down your thighs.
“Y/NNNNN.”
“What?” you snap, finally looking up.
Beomgyu crouches in front of you, hands on his knees, squinting like a detective in a low-budget crime drama. “I have a very serious question.”
You already don’t like this. “If this is about sunscreen-”
“Why,” he says solemnly, “are you dressed like you’re going to a pajama party instead of going to the beach?”
You groan. “Beomgyu.”
“What? I’m just asking.” He gestures at you dramatically. “My shirt. Shorts. Sitting in the shade. No sand on you whatsoever. Are you allergic to saltwater?”
You look away. “I’m just… chilling.”
“Liar.” He plops down next to you. “You’re overthinking. I can feel it. The vibes are anxious.”
You roll your eyes, but your fingers tighten around your towel subconsciously.
Everyone else is laughing in the water. Splashing. Carefree. Wearing bathing suits you wish you were brave enough to wear without thinking twice.
Beomgyu follows your gaze, then looks back at you.
“Oh,” he says, softer, but still teasing. “You’re avoiding the ocean because you think you’ll get washed away by the waves.”
“…What?”
“That’s what it is, right?” He nods. “Classic fear.”
You huff despite yourself. “No.”
“Hmm.” He hums exaggeratedly. “Then maybe you’re scared of sharks.”
“There are no sharks here.”
“Jellyfish?”
“No.”
“Seaweed?”
You snort. “Okay, maybe seaweed is a little-”
“Aha!” He points at you. “Fear confirmed.”
You shove his arm lightly, but the smile fades when he keeps watching you — not playfully this time, but with that quiet attentiveness that makes your chest feel exposed.
“…You don’t want to swim,” he says, more gently now. “Do you?”
You hesitate.
He notices.
“Hey,” he says quickly, tone flipping back to casual like he’s trying to give you an escape route. “You know you don’t have to. I was just joking around. We can sit here and people-watch. I already saw a guy trip over nothing and fall face first into the hole he dug!”
You laugh weakly. “I don’t hate the beach.”
“Mmm. You just hate… beach clothes?”
You freeze.
Beomgyu winces. “Okay. That was too direct. Sorry.”
You exhale slowly, staring at the sand. “It’s dumb.”
“Nothing that makes you worry this much is dumb, baby, but continue.”
You give him a look. He raises his hands in surrender.
“I just don’t like how I look,” you admit quietly. “Especially in swimwear. My tan lines look weird. And my back acne-” You trail off, heat creeping up your neck. “I don’t want people judging.”
Beomgyu is silent for exactly three seconds.
Then —
“Wow,” he says. “Rude of them.”
You blink. “What?”
“The sun,” he clarifies. “For giving you tan lines without your consent.”
You laugh despite yourself, covering your face. “Beomgyu.”
“No, seriously.” He leans back on his elbows. “If the sun wanted you to have an even tan, it should’ve worked harder.”
You shake your head, but the tension eases just a bit.
“And also,” he adds, “I highly doubt anyone here is paying attention to your back when there’s a kid over there digging a hole deep enough to summon ancient sea spirits.”
You glance over.
The kid is, in fact, digging aggressively.
“…Okay, that’s fair.”
Beomgyu grins, then softens. “But for real. I get it.”
You look at him, surprised.
“I mean,” he shrugs, “I complain all the time about my hair looking bad in humidity. And that’s just my hair. You’re allowed to feel weird about stuff.”
You nod slowly.
“But,” he continues, eyes twinkling mischievously, “you do realize you’re currently wearing my shirt, right?”
“So?”
“So,” he smirks, “it’s very suspicious. Like you’re hiding treasure under all that extra cloth. Or emotional baggage.”
You smack his arm. “Stop.”
“Okay, okay.” He laughs, then lowers his voice. “Look. I won’t force you into the water. That’d be evil. And I’m only semi-evil.”
You snort.
“But,” he says, leaning closer, “if you did want to go in… I could hold you the entire time.”
“…Like a human shield?”
“Yes.”
“From what?”
“Judgment. The sun. Seagulls.”
You glance at him. “Seagulls?”
“They’re terrifying.”
You hesitate, then whisper, “…Maybe later.”
Beomgyu beams. “Later it is.”
True to his word, he doesn’t rush you.
He brings you cold drinks. Sits beside you. Plays with your fingers. Tells you dumb stories about past beach disasters — including the time he got buried in sand and pretended to be a mermaid just to commit to the bit.
When you finally stand, heart pounding, he pretends not to notice your nerves — until you nearly trip.
“Whoa!” He steadies you instantly. “Careful. I can’t explain to the staff why my favorite person faceplanted.”
Your cheeks warm. “Favorite?”
“What? Baby, we’ve been together for almost a year. Are you still not used to this?”
You giggle as you remove your shirt, revealing the sports bra you were wearing underneath. Though not the bathing suit you packed with you after deliberating for days, revealing this much skin was already a feat in itself. You weren’t used to showing so much of your uneven tan and the tiny blemishes scattered over your back. You clutch your towel tighter around your shoulders as you walk toward the water. Beomgyu walks slightly behind you, broad enough that he blocks most of the view behind you.
“See?” he says quietly. “Human shield.”
The water laps at your ankles, cool and soothing, sending shivers up your legs. You take a shaky breath, letting the tension in your shoulders loosen just a little.
Then the water creeps higher — over your calves, brushing your knees — and with every step, you feel yourself relaxing. The warm sun mixes with the cool sea, and it’s like a gentle reminder that the world isn’t quite as scary as your mind makes it out to be.
“This isn’t so bad,” you murmur, voice soft, almost afraid to jinx it.
“Told you,” he says smugly, slipping an arm around your waist. The weight is light, casual, yet grounding — like it’s anchoring you to the moment. “I am very wise.”
A rogue wave splashes unexpectedly, soaking the front of your legs. You yelp, stumbling back instinctively.
Beomgyu bursts out laughing, clutching his stomach as he bends over. “Oh my god, your face-”
Before he can finish, you splash him back with a laugh.
“HEY!” he shouts, mock outraged.
“Oops,” you say innocently, but he’s already grinning, ready for the next round.
“Oh, it’s on now,” he teases, splashing at you again. You both end up laughing so hard that the water splashes over your sides, hiding the imperfections you were so worried about.
And then, in a quiet moment between laughs, you notice him looking at you — not teasing, not joking, just… fond.
“What?” you ask, suddenly shy.
He shrugs, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You look… happier.”
You blink, caught off guard. “…I feel lighter.”
“Good,” he murmurs, soft and almost serious. Then, with a cheeky smirk, he adds, “Still scared of seaweed, though.”
“Beomgyu,” you say, rolling your eyes, though the warmth in your chest makes you feel a little giddy.
He grins. “Come on. Let’s stay a bit longer.”
And you do.
You stop worrying about your insecurities. You stop thinking about who’s watching, who might judge. The sun warms your shoulders, the waves lap against your skin, and he’s right there beside you — sometimes teasing, sometimes laughing, sometimes simply holding you without a word. And somehow, just by existing, he makes you feel safe.
You take a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and you realize something: the beach is still big. The water is still cold. There’s so many people around. But somehow, with him here, it doesn’t feel overwhelming anymore.
He nudges you gently with his shoulder. “You’re smiling,” he says, like it’s the most important discovery in the world.
You glance at him, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Am I?”
“Yeah,” he replies, voice teasing but soft at the edges. “You’re beautiful when you smile.”
You shake your head, trying to hide it, but he leans in closer, brushing a damp strand of hair from your face. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “You don’t have to hide. Not here, not ever. I’ve got you.”
For the first time all day, you really believe it.
The sun dips lower, painting the sky in warm oranges and pinks. The waves sparkle, the sand sticks pleasantly to your wet feet, and he’s still there beside you — watching, waiting, just being here with you.
You realize that even if the water were full of surprises, even if your insecurities threatened to creep back, it wouldn’t matter. He’d be there. A human shield, a partner, a soft place to land.
You smile up at him, letting yourself melt into the comfort of the moment. “Thank you,” you whisper.
“For what?” he asks, playful but curious.
“For… everything,” you say, and he simply squeezes your waist, letting the laughter and the quiet companionship say the rest.
And for once, you don’t think about how you look. You just feel. The sun on your skin. The waves at your feet. And the steady warmth of Beomgyu right by your side.