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Valentine’s Day always arrived like a glitter bomb.
It started in the morning, before Yeonjun even made it to the dorm hallway—pink sticky notes on doors, heart-shaped balloons bobbing at ankle height like cheerful ghosts, someone’s playlist blasting a suspicious amount of romantic acoustic guitar through a cracked-open speaker.
Yeonjun paused with his coffee in hand and stared down the hall with the tired reverence of a man watching a parade he didn’t sign up for.
“So dramatic,” a voice chimed beside him.
Yeonjun didn’t need to look. He could hear the smile in it.
Beomgyu slid into view like he belonged there—messy hair, soft hoodie, a tiny candy heart stuck to the shoulder of his sleeve. He was holding a paper bag that smelled aggressively like sugar.
“Let me guess,” Yeonjun said, staring at the candy heart. “You got attacked.”
Beomgyu peeled it off his shoulder and squinted at it as if it had personally betrayed him. “I walked past the kitchen. Soobin ambushed me with a handful of those tiny chalky candies like it was a threat.”
Yeonjun’s mouth twitched. “Was it a threat?”
Beomgyu popped the candy into his mouth anyway and immediately made a face like he’d just tasted regret. “It said ‘TEXT ME.’ Which is funny, because I’m already—” He stopped, then looked at Yeonjun in a way that made Yeonjun’s heartbeat hiccup. “—I mean. Like. Everyone texts everyone.”
“Mm-hm.” Yeonjun lifted his coffee, hiding his smile behind the rim.
Beomgyu shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking a little on his heels. “Valentine’s Day is… loud.”
“Obnoxious,” Yeonjun corrected.
Beomgyu brightened. “Right? Obnoxious. We agree. It’s a fake holiday designed to sell overpriced flowers and emotional distress.”
Yeonjun nodded solemnly. “Exactly.”
Beomgyu’s grin widened like he’d won something. “Great. So, we’re on the same page.”
Yeonjun opened his mouth to say something equally dismissive—something normal, something safe—and then Beomgyu’s fingers brushed his wrist when he reached for the coffee sleeve, just a quick, accidental touch.
Yeonjun’s brain short-circuited.
Beomgyu didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he noticed and pretended he didn’t, the way he always did—like they were both participating in a silent game where the rules were: don’t flinch, don’t confess, don’t make it real.
“Anyway,” Beomgyu said, voice suddenly a little too casual, “what’s your schedule today?”
Yeonjun blinked back into himself. “Uh. Practice. Meeting. More practice. Possibly dying.”
Beomgyu laughed, bright and unguarded. “Same. There’s also… a thing.”
Yeonjun narrowed his eyes. “A thing?”
Beomgyu’s ears turned pink. He tugged at the string of his hoodie. “Yeah. A thing that is definitely not Valentine’s Day related.”
Yeonjun raised a brow. “Suspicious.”
“It’s not!” Beomgyu insisted too quickly. “It’s just—our group chat made it into a thing thing, and now there’s—” He waved vaguely down the hall where someone was taping hearts to the vending machine like it was sacred. “—all that.”
Yeonjun hummed. “I hate that.”
“Me too.” Beomgyu nodded vigorously, then softened. “But… maybe it won’t be so bad.”
Yeonjun stared at him. Beomgyu stared back, eyes warm and shiny with something that made Yeonjun’s chest ache in the gentlest way.
Then Beomgyu cleared his throat and looked away like he’d revealed too much. “I’ll see you later.”
He walked off, paper bag swinging at his side.
Yeonjun watched him go, heart doing that annoying, loyal thing where it tried to climb out of his ribs just because Beomgyu existed.
“Fake holiday,” Yeonjun muttered.
His phone buzzed.
GROUP CHAT (5):
Taehyun: Reminder: Valentine’s exchange at 7. No excuses.
Soobin: It’s for FUN. Also I’m bringing strawberry milk.
Huening Kai: Can we trade gifts AND snacks??
Taehyun: Yes.
Beomgyu: I’m not participating emotionally.
Yeonjun: Same.
Yeonjun set his phone down like it had personally offended him.
Unfortunately, his heart didn’t agree.
⸻
By late afternoon, the practice room was a furnace of energy and sweat and stubbornness. Yeonjun stretched near the mirror, watching his own reflection while Beomgyu paced behind him, humming a melody under his breath.
Beomgyu always did that when he was nervous—filled the silence with sound so no one would notice the way his hands fidgeted.
Yeonjun pretended not to notice. He was very good at pretending.
“Your hair is sticking up,” Yeonjun said instead.
Beomgyu looked affronted. “It’s styled.”
“It’s styled like you lost a fight with a pillow.”
Beomgyu marched over, leaned close to the mirror, and tried to pat it down. “It’s fine.”
“It’s cute,” Yeonjun said before he could stop himself.
Beomgyu froze.
Yeonjun froze.
The room suddenly felt too quiet, like even the air was listening.
Beomgyu’s eyes flicked to Yeonjun in the mirror—wide, startled, soft around the edges. “Cute?”
Yeonjun’s ears went hot. “I meant—like. It’s… fine. Good. Normal.”
Beomgyu’s mouth turned into a smile so slow it should’ve been illegal. “Normal. Right.”
Yeonjun grabbed his water bottle and chugged like hydration could fix the damage.
Beomgyu leaned on the barre, still watching him like he’d found something precious.
“You’re weird today,” Beomgyu said.
Yeonjun lowered the bottle. “Me?”
“Yeah.” Beomgyu tilted his head. “More… flustered.”
Yeonjun scoffed, because denial was his greatest talent. “I’m not flustered.”
Beomgyu’s smile turned mischievous. “Sure. Then you won’t mind if I say you look really—”
“Don’t,” Yeonjun warned, half-laughing, half-panicking.
Beomgyu stepped closer anyway, voice dropping into something almost gentle. “—really handsome.”
Yeonjun’s brain went completely blank.
His throat made a sound that was not words.
Beomgyu’s eyes widened slightly, like he hadn’t expected to hit the target. Then he swallowed, suddenly shy again, and looked down at the floor. “Sorry. That was—Valentine’s Day atmosphere. Contagious.”
Yeonjun stared at him, heart thundering.
“Beomgyu,” Yeonjun said quietly.
Beomgyu looked up.
Yeonjun didn’t know what he was going to say. Something brave. Something honest. Something that didn’t feel like stepping off a cliff.
But then the door banged open and Taehyun stuck his head inside. “You two. Stop flirting with the mirror and come eat.”
Beomgyu yelped like he’d been caught committing a crime. “We weren’t—”
Yeonjun coughed. “We were not.”
Taehyun’s expression stayed flat. “Mm.”
He disappeared.
Beomgyu stared at the door, then at Yeonjun, then at the floor again. “We’re doomed.”
Yeonjun’s lips twitched. “We’re fine.”
Beomgyu didn’t look convinced. “We’re going to die of unresolved feelings.”
Yeonjun’s smile softened into something warmer. “Maybe after dinner.”
Beomgyu glanced up, eyes bright. “Maybe.”
And the maybe sat between them like a promise.
⸻
The dorm common room looked like a craft store exploded in the best possible way. There were paper hearts strung across the walls, mismatched gift bags, a pile of snacks forming a small mountain, and Soobin holding a roll of tape like a proud parent.
“Welcome!” Soobin announced. “To the Annual Valentine’s Exchange—”
“It’s the first time we’ve done this,” Taehyun corrected.
“—the first Annual Valentine’s Exchange,” Soobin amended without missing a beat. “Rules: you must give your gift with sincerity.”
Beomgyu raised a hand. “I object.”
“So sincere objections count,” Soobin said cheerfully.
Yeonjun sat cross-legged on the floor near the couch. Beomgyu dropped down beside him, close enough that their knees touched.
Yeonjun’s entire body lit up from that small contact like someone had plugged him into a wall.
Beomgyu’s knee didn’t move away.
Soobin clapped his hands. “Okay! We drew names earlier. No backing out.”
Taehyun shoved a tiny folded paper toward Yeonjun. “You already know yours.”
Yeonjun unfolded it.
BEOMGYU.
His stomach flipped so hard he almost laughed.
Of course.
Of course it was Beomgyu, because the universe had been giggling all day and apparently wanted to watch Yeonjun suffer beautifully.
Beomgyu leaned over, peeking. “Who’d you get?”
Yeonjun folded the paper quickly, trying to look casual. “None of your business.”
Beomgyu gasped dramatically. “Rude!”
Yeonjun tried not to smile. “You’ll live.”
Beomgyu’s eyes flicked to Yeonjun’s hands like he was trying to read the secret through his fingertips. “Fine. Keep your secrets.”
But his voice was softer than his words.
They started the exchange in a chaotic circle of laughter and teasing. Soobin gave Kai a gift bag full of tiny plush hearts and a handwritten note that made Kai smile so big it softened the whole room. Taehyun gave Soobin something practical—neatly wrapped, probably a schedule planner—and Soobin looked absurdly touched anyway.
Then it was Yeonjun’s turn.
Soobin pointed at him like a game show host. “Yeonjun!”
Yeonjun swallowed.
Beomgyu looked up at him, eyes curious, cheeks faintly pink. “Oh, it’s you.”
“Unfortunately,” Yeonjun said, because he was an idiot.
Beomgyu laughed anyway, a small, fond sound. “What’d you get me?”
Yeonjun reached behind him, pulling out a small box he’d hidden under a pillow.
It wasn’t fancy. Just a simple craft box wrapped in red paper with a bow that looked like it had taken him thirty tries.
Beomgyu’s expression softened immediately.
Yeonjun shoved it toward him like he could physically push away his embarrassment. “Here.”
Beomgyu accepted it carefully, like it was fragile. “Can I open it?”
“No,” Yeonjun said automatically.
Beomgyu paused. “Oh.”
Yeonjun sighed. “Yes. Open it.”
Beomgyu grinned and lifted the lid.
Inside was a small scrapbook—handmade. The cover had a little sticker of a cat wearing a tiny crown, and below it, in neat black ink:
“Things I Like About You (Don’t Get Cocky)”
Beomgyu stared.
Yeonjun’s soul tried to leave his body.
Beomgyu opened the scrapbook slowly.
The first page had a photo of Beomgyu laughing so hard his eyes were closed, taken during some late-night chaos. Around it, Yeonjun had written:
Your laugh makes everything feel less heavy.
Second page: a pressed flower taped carefully, with a note:
You give people softness without asking for anything back.
Third page: a tiny doodle of Beomgyu’s hands with rings, the linework surprisingly delicate.
You’re always creating, even when you think you’re not.
Beomgyu’s fingers trembled slightly as he turned the pages.
Yeonjun couldn’t breathe.
The room had gone quiet, everyone watching, but it didn’t matter—because the only thing Yeonjun could see was Beomgyu’s face changing, piece by piece, into something raw and stunned and shining.
Beomgyu looked up.
His eyes were watery.
Yeonjun panicked immediately. “Wait—no—don’t cry—oh my god, did I make it weird—”
Beomgyu made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob and slammed the scrapbook shut, then practically launched himself at Yeonjun.
Yeonjun caught him automatically, arms wrapping around Beomgyu’s waist to keep them from toppling over.
Beomgyu’s face buried into Yeonjun’s shoulder.
“There,” Beomgyu mumbled into his hoodie. “You did participate emotionally.”
Yeonjun swallowed hard. “I—this is not—”
Beomgyu lifted his head just enough to look at him, eyes glossy. “It’s you, isn’t it?”
Yeonjun blinked. “What?”
“The thing,” Beomgyu whispered, cheeks bright pink. “The thing you’ve been doing all day. The weird. The flustered.”
Yeonjun’s throat tightened.
Beomgyu held the scrapbook to his chest like a shield and a treasure at the same time. “You like me.”
Yeonjun should have denied it.
He should have made a joke, rolled his eyes, escaped into sarcasm like he always did.
But Beomgyu was looking at him like he already knew the answer and was just asking Yeonjun to be brave enough to say it out loud.
So Yeonjun exhaled.
“Yeah,” he admitted, voice quiet. “I do.”
Beomgyu’s whole face softened, like relief had finally found him. “Okay.”
Yeonjun frowned. “Okay?”
Beomgyu nodded, sniffing once, then smiled—small, sincere, shining. “Yeah. Because I like you too.”
Yeonjun’s heart stuttered.
Across the room, Soobin slapped a hand over his mouth like he was witnessing history. Taehyun muttered, “Finally,” under his breath, like this had been an overdue assignment. Kai made a muffled squeal into a pillow.
Yeonjun couldn’t hear any of it.
All he could hear was his own heartbeat, and Beomgyu’s breath, and the soft little space between them that suddenly felt safe.
Beomgyu leaned closer, almost hesitant now. “Can I…?”
Yeonjun’s hands tightened gently at Beomgyu’s waist. “Yes.”
Beomgyu smiled like he couldn’t help it, then pressed a kiss to Yeonjun’s lips—sweet, careful, warm.
Yeonjun kissed him back, slowly, like he’d been waiting all his life for permission.
When they pulled apart, Beomgyu rested his forehead against Yeonjun’s.
“So,” Beomgyu whispered, voice trembling with happiness, “Valentine’s Day is still obnoxious.”
Yeonjun laughed softly. “Absolutely.”
Beomgyu’s smile turned bright. “But you’re not.”
Yeonjun’s cheeks burned. “Don’t get cocky,” he warned, stealing Beomgyu’s own line.
Beomgyu hugged the scrapbook tighter. “Too late.”
⸻
Later, when the room dissolved back into laughter and snacks and the comfortable noise of people who loved each other, Yeonjun and Beomgyu ended up on the couch together.
Beomgyu’s head rested on Yeonjun’s shoulder. Yeonjun’s hand lazily played with Beomgyu’s fingers, tracing the knuckles like it was a new habit he wanted to learn by heart.
“So,” Beomgyu murmured, eyes half-closed. “How long have you liked me?”
Yeonjun stared at the ceiling like it might save him. “A normal amount.”
Beomgyu hummed. “That’s not an answer.”
Yeonjun sighed. “Since… a long time.”
Beomgyu’s smile pressed into Yeonjun’s shoulder. “Me too.”
Yeonjun’s chest warmed.
Beomgyu shifted, tilting his face up. “Can I add something to your scrapbook?”
Yeonjun blinked. “You want to… write in it?”
Beomgyu nodded, eyes sparkling with mischief and softness. “Yeah. Because it’s mine now.”
Yeonjun snorted. “You’re greedy.”
Beomgyu grinned. “I’m loved.”
Yeonjun’s lips twitched. “Fine.”
Beomgyu grabbed a pen from the table, flipped to a blank page, and wrote carefully, tongue poking out slightly in concentration.
Then he turned the book toward Yeonjun.
In Beomgyu’s handwriting, it said:
Things I Like About You (You’re Allowed to Get Cocky):
1) You act tough, but you’re the softest person I know.
2) You take care of people without asking for credit.
3) You look at me like I’m home.
4) I’m really, really happy it’s you.
Yeonjun stared.
His eyes burned in a way that felt suspiciously like tears.
Beomgyu watched him with a small, careful smile. “Too much?”
Yeonjun swallowed hard. “Not enough.”
Beomgyu’s smile broke wide, and he leaned in to kiss Yeonjun again—gentle, certain, like he’d finally decided he didn’t have to be afraid of wanting.
Yeonjun kissed him back, heart full.
Outside, the world was still loud and pink and covered in ridiculous paper hearts.
But inside, on the couch, with Beomgyu’s hand in his, Yeonjun decided maybe the glitter bomb holiday wasn’t so bad.
⸻
The next morning, the first official thing about it was the way Beomgyu said it.
“Okay,” Beomgyu announced, standing in the dorm hallway with his coat already on and his hair only slightly rebellious, “this is our first official Valentine’s date.”
Yeonjun paused mid-shoe-tying and looked up. “Official?”
Beomgyu nodded with intense seriousness, like he was presenting a very important contract. “Official. Like… capital letters. Our First Official Valentine’s Date.”
Yeonjun’s mouth twitched. “So if I trip on the stairs, does it get canceled?”
Beomgyu’s eyes widened. “Don’t you dare jinx it.”
Yeonjun stood, stepped close, and adjusted Beomgyu’s scarf—tugging it into place, smoothing the fabric down. Simple. Careful. Domestic.
Beomgyu’s gaze went soft immediately.
“You look cute,” Yeonjun said.
Beomgyu inhaled sharply, like he’d been punched by affection. “You’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend now.”
Yeonjun’s fingers paused.
Boyfriend.
It still sounded unreal. Like a word borrowed from another life.
He recovered by flicking Beomgyu’s scarf lightly. “I’m saying it because it’s true.”
Beomgyu’s smile wobbled into something bright. “Stop. I can’t handle you being sweet in the hallway.”
Yeonjun bumped his shoulder into Beomgyu’s gently. “Let’s go, before I change my mind.”
Beomgyu grabbed his hand instantly.
His palm was warm. His grip was sure, like he was afraid the date would float away if he let go.
They barely made it two steps before the dorm common room door creaked open like a horror movie.
Taehyun appeared in the doorway, expression blank.
Soobin popped up behind him with an actual camera in his hand.
Yeonjun stopped. “Why do you have a camera.”
Soobin beamed. “For documentation.”
Beomgyu squeaked. “No!”
Taehyun’s gaze swept over their joined hands. “Shoes on. Coats on. Hands held. Confirmed.”
Yeonjun narrowed his eyes. “Confirmed what.”
Soobin lifted the camera higher. “Confirmed that you’re going on your first official Valentine’s date!”
Beomgyu made a strangled noise. “Please don’t say it like that!”
Kai’s voice drifted from inside. “Wear matching gloves!!”
Yeonjun pulled Beomgyu closer automatically, protective by instinct. “We’re leaving.”
Taehyun leaned on the doorframe. “Beomgyu. Remember.”
Beomgyu blinked. “Remember what?”
Taehyun’s eyes flicked to Yeonjun. “Don’t let him bully you into pretending he doesn’t like romantic stuff.”
Yeonjun scoffed. “I don’t.”
Taehyun kept staring until Yeonjun felt his ears heat up.
Beomgyu, traitor that he was, giggled.
Soobin pointed the camera at them. “Smile!”
Yeonjun deadpanned. “No.”
Beomgyu smiled anyway—wide and helplessly happy.
The camera clicked.
Yeonjun dragged Beomgyu down the hall before anyone could start chanting “KISS!” (which, to be fair, sounded extremely possible).
As the elevator doors closed, Beomgyu squeezed Yeonjun’s hand and looked up at him like he’d just survived a natural disaster.
“I can’t believe we got photographed,” Beomgyu whispered.
Yeonjun snorted. “At least you smiled.”
Beomgyu leaned closer, eyes sparkling. “You didn’t.”
Yeonjun stared straight ahead. “I was protecting my dignity.”
Beomgyu hummed. “I think you were shy.”
Yeonjun tightened his grip. “I’m not shy.”
Beomgyu smiled like he’d already won. “Sure.”
The elevator dinged.
Beomgyu bounced out first.
Yeonjun followed, feeling oddly… light.
⸻
Outside, the city was wrapped in winter’s last soft grip—cold air that bit at their cheeks, sidewalks glittering with leftover frost, and couples everywhere like Valentine’s Day had assigned them all a meeting point.
Beomgyu held Yeonjun’s hand like it was essential equipment.
Yeonjun tried not to be obvious about how much he liked that.
“Okay,” Beomgyu said, spinning slightly in front of Yeonjun on the sidewalk. “Schedule.”
Yeonjun blinked. “There’s a schedule?”
Beomgyu lifted a finger. “First: hot drinks.”
Yeonjun nodded. “Acceptable.”
“Second: photo booth.”
Yeonjun halted mid-step. “Photo booth?”
Beomgyu’s eyes widened, immediately defensive. “It’s Valentine’s Day. It’s required.”
Yeonjun stared at him.
Beomgyu stared back, stubborn.
Yeonjun sighed like a man being asked to carry a burdensome duty. “Fine. But if you make me do the heart pose, I’m leaving.”
Beomgyu gasped. “You can’t leave! It’s official.”
Yeonjun’s mouth twitched. “Stop saying official like it’s a legal term.”
Beomgyu grinned and tugged him forward. “Third: dessert.”
Yeonjun raised a brow. “You planned this whole thing.”
Beomgyu’s cheeks pinked. “Maybe.”
Yeonjun softened. “You’re cute.”
Beomgyu made a sound like he was short-circuiting and shoved Yeonjun gently. “Stop. I can’t handle you being sweet in public.”
Yeonjun leaned in, voice low. “What’s the point of having a boyfriend if I can’t embarrass him.”
Beomgyu blinked—wide-eyed, lips parting.
Then he laughed, bright and breathless. “Oh my god. You’re— you’re really my boyfriend.”
Yeonjun’s heart did that annoying flip again.
He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Unfortunately.”
Beomgyu squeezed his hand. “Liar.”
⸻
The café Beomgyu picked was warm and golden, smelling like vanilla and cinnamon and something buttery enough to make Yeonjun’s stomach growl.
They found a table near the window. Beomgyu ordered a strawberry latte without looking at Yeonjun. Yeonjun ordered something caramel and suspiciously sugary.
When their drinks arrived, Beomgyu took a careful sip.
His eyes widened immediately. “Oh.”
Yeonjun watched him. “Good?”
Beomgyu nodded slowly. “This tastes like… happiness.”
Yeonjun’s expression softened despite himself. “Let me try.”
Beomgyu pushed the cup toward him immediately, like sharing was instinct now.
Yeonjun took a sip—sweet and warm and strawberry-rich—and looked up to find Beomgyu watching him like he’d offered Yeonjun a piece of his heart and was waiting to see if it was accepted.
“It’s good,” Yeonjun said quietly.
Beomgyu’s shoulders relaxed like he’d been holding his breath.
Yeonjun’s chest tightened in a way that was almost embarrassing.
He reached out without thinking and brushed his thumb gently against Beomgyu’s knuckles where they rested near the cup.
Beomgyu’s gaze dropped to Yeonjun’s thumb.
Then back to Yeonjun’s face.
Something quiet flickered between them—something that didn’t need jokes.
Beomgyu swallowed. “You’re being… really boyfriend-ish.”
Yeonjun’s ears heated. “You say that like it’s a problem.”
Beomgyu shook his head quickly, smiling. “No. I like it. I just—” He hesitated, then admitted softly, “I’m not used to it.”
Yeonjun’s throat tightened.
He covered it with a small scoff. “Well. Get used to it.”
Beomgyu’s smile turned gentle. “Okay.”
Yeonjun hesitated, then reached into his pocket and slid something onto the table.
A small keychain—simple metal, shaped like a tiny cat with a crown.
Beomgyu froze.
Yeonjun shrugged like it didn’t matter. “I saw it and thought of you.”
Beomgyu’s voice came out as a whisper. “Because I’m a cat?”
Yeonjun nodded. “Because you act like one. Mischievous. Loud when you want something. Pretends you don’t care, then follows me everywhere.”
Beomgyu stared at the keychain like it was a relic.
Then his eyes went glossy.
Yeonjun panicked immediately. “Oh my god, don’t cry in a café—”
Beomgyu laughed through the wet shine in his eyes. “I’m not crying! I’m—” He sniffed and pressed the keychain to his chest. “I’m just… happy.”
Yeonjun’s face softened completely. He reached across the table and squeezed Beomgyu’s hand.
“Good,” he said softly. “I wanted you to be.”
Beomgyu squeezed back like he meant it.
⸻
The photo booth was tucked into an arcade-style shop a few blocks away, wedged between blinking neon and claw machines.
Beomgyu looked like he was vibrating with excitement.
Yeonjun looked like he was walking toward his own funeral.
“You promised,” Beomgyu said, eyes gleaming.
“I promised I wouldn’t leave,” Yeonjun corrected.
“That’s a promise,” Beomgyu insisted, dragging him into the booth.
Inside, it was cramped and warm. Their knees knocked. Beomgyu shoved a coin in with the confidence of someone who’d done this a hundred times. The screen lit up with a countdown.
“Okay,” Beomgyu whispered, leaning in, “first pose: normal.”
Yeonjun nodded quickly. “Yes.”
3… 2… 1…
They smiled.
Flash.
Beomgyu bounced. “Second pose: cute.”
Yeonjun blinked. “Define cute.”
Beomgyu grabbed Yeonjun’s sleeve and tugged him close, then pressed his cheek to Yeonjun’s cheek.
Yeonjun stiffened from surprise.
Beomgyu whispered, “Smile.”
Yeonjun tried.
Flash.
Beomgyu pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes bright.
“Third pose,” Beomgyu said softly. “Just… look at me.”
Yeonjun blinked.
Beomgyu’s voice dropped to something gentle. “Please.”
3… 2… 1…
Yeonjun turned his head.
Beomgyu was already looking at him.
Not playful. Not teasing.
Just… open.
Yeonjun’s chest tightened so hard it almost hurt.
Flash.
The screen changed again: LAST PHOTO!
Beomgyu swallowed.
Yeonjun swallowed.
Beomgyu whispered, “Can we…?”
Yeonjun’s voice came out quiet. “Yeah.”
Beomgyu leaned in slowly, giving Yeonjun enough time to pull away.
Yeonjun didn’t.
Their lips met—soft, careful.
The countdown continued like it didn’t understand it was interrupting something sacred.
Flash.
When they pulled apart, Beomgyu laughed breathlessly, forehead bumping Yeonjun’s.
“Oh my god,” Beomgyu whispered. “We just—”
Yeonjun, cheeks burning, muttered, “It was the booth’s fault.”
Beomgyu giggled. “Totally.”
The strip printed out with a whir.
Beomgyu snatched it immediately, holding it up like a trophy. Yeonjun leaned closer despite himself.
The third photo—Yeonjun looking at Beomgyu like that—made Yeonjun’s stomach flip.
Beomgyu’s smile softened when he saw it too.
“That’s mine,” Beomgyu said quietly.
Yeonjun blinked. “The photo?”
Beomgyu shook his head, eyes warm. “You.”
Yeonjun’s heart went stupid. “Okay, Romeo. Put it away before I combust.”
Beomgyu tucked the strip carefully into his wallet like it belonged there.
⸻
Dessert was a tiny bakery with fogged-up windows and heart-shaped cookies displayed like jewels.
Beomgyu practically pressed his face to the glass.
Yeonjun watched him with affectionate disbelief. “You’re twelve.”
Beomgyu pointed at a pink frosted cupcake. “That one.”
Yeonjun pointed at a chocolate tart. “That one.”
Beomgyu turned, eyes shining. “We can share.”
Yeonjun nodded. “We can share.”
They sat at a small table by the window. Beomgyu broke the cupcake in half and offered Yeonjun the bigger piece without thinking.
Yeonjun raised a brow. “Why is yours smaller?”
Beomgyu blinked, then shrugged like it was obvious. “Because you’re you.”
Yeonjun stared, then swapped the pieces so they were equal.
Beomgyu pouted. “Hey.”
Yeonjun took a bite. “Equality.”
Beomgyu huffed, but smiled.
For a while, they just ate. Outside, the sky darkened into evening; inside, the bakery lights glowed warm.
Beomgyu brushed crumbs off Yeonjun’s sleeve with an intimacy that made Yeonjun’s chest ache.
Beomgyu caught him staring. “What.”
Yeonjun’s mouth twitched. “You have frosting.”
Beomgyu blinked. “Where?”
Yeonjun leaned forward and wiped a smear of pink from the corner of Beomgyu’s mouth with his thumb.
Beomgyu froze.
Yeonjun froze too, realizing what he’d just done like some romance drama lead in the middle of a bakery.
Yeonjun cleared his throat. “There.”
Beomgyu, as if to retaliate, leaned forward and wiped a bit of chocolate off Yeonjun’s lip with equal care.
Yeonjun went still.
Beomgyu’s thumb lingered for one extra heartbeat.
Beomgyu whispered, “There.”
Yeonjun’s throat tightened. “You’re going to kill me.”
Beomgyu’s smile trembled. “Good.”
Yeonjun laughed softly, then laced their fingers together on the table.
Beomgyu squeezed once, like a heartbeat.
“Today was…” Beomgyu started, then stopped, suddenly shy.
Yeonjun watched him. “Yeah?”
Beomgyu swallowed. “Perfect.”
Yeonjun’s chest warmed so intensely he had to look away for a second.
Then he looked back and said honestly, “Yeah.”
Beomgyu smiled, small and brilliant. “So… Valentine’s Day?”
Yeonjun pretended to think. “Still obnoxious.”
Beomgyu laughed. “But…”
Yeonjun squeezed his hand gently. “But you’re not.”
Beomgyu leaned in close—not for a kiss, just for the quiet closeness of being near. “Okay,” he whispered. “Then let’s make it a tradition.”
Yeonjun blinked. “A tradition?”
Beomgyu nodded. “Every year. Even if we’re busy. Even if it’s just five minutes and a convenience store chocolate. We do an official date.”
Yeonjun’s heart flipped. He tried to play it cool and failed. “Yeah. Okay.”
Beomgyu’s smile said thank you without words.
⸻
When they got back to the dorm, the lights were still on.
Soobin was waiting on the couch like he’d been expecting them for hours, dramatic as always. Taehyun sat beside him, calm as stone. Kai was on the floor, eating chips.
Beomgyu halted in the doorway, immediately suspicious. “Why are you all… like that.”
Soobin lifted his phone. “Photo?”
“No,” Beomgyu said instantly.
Taehyun’s eyes flicked to their hands. “Successful date?”
Yeonjun opened his mouth, but Beomgyu beat him to it, beaming. “It was perfect.”
Soobin made a noise that sounded like he was about to cry. “My children.”
Beomgyu groaned. “Stop calling us that!”
Kai popped up. “Did you do the photo booth?”
Beomgyu froze.
Yeonjun froze.
Soobin’s eyes widened. “You did the photo booth.”
Taehyun’s lips twitched once, barely. “Finally.”
Beomgyu clutched his wallet to his chest like a shield. “It’s private!”
Soobin clasped his hands. “A keepsake.”
Taehyun nodded. “Evidence.”
Yeonjun sighed and tugged Beomgyu closer. “Ignore them.”
Beomgyu glanced up at Yeonjun, still glowing from the day, and the softness returned to his face.
“Okay,” Beomgyu whispered.
Yeonjun—apparently incapable of being normal anymore—leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to Beomgyu’s forehead.
Beomgyu made a tiny, startled sound—then melted.
Behind them, Soobin screamed into a pillow.
Taehyun muttered, “Unbearable.”
Kai cheered.
Beomgyu hid his face in Yeonjun’s shoulder, laughing.
Yeonjun wrapped his arms around him, warmth settling in his chest like it belonged there.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Beomgyu mumbled.
Yeonjun smiled into his hair. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”