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“Can you not breathe so loud?” Beomgyu complains, clicking a wooden pen repeatedly. He didn’t look at Soobin. Even though the urge to poke at him had been simmering in his mind all morning, he couldn’t bring himself to meet his heated gaze.
“I’m just sitting here.” Soobin’s lips curled into that bored little pout he always wore when he thought he was winning.
Beomgyu frowns, glaring at him. “Exactly. It’s annoying,” he mutters.
“You’re the one who came ten minutes early just to take my seat,” Soobin replied, spreading his legs casually. A heat climbs up the back of Beomgyu’s neck.
Beomgyu did show up ten minutes early to take Soobin’s seat. It was on impulse—a desire to bother him—as a way to get Soobin to notice him.
For some reason, an apology sat heavy on his tongue. But never in a million years would he show weakness in front of Soobin. “Never. I always sit here,” he says, voice unconvincing.
“You sit by the windows on Tuesdays.” Soobin said smugly, like he’d been waiting to drop that.
Suddenly the carpet beneath them seemed very interesting. Beomgyu’s knee wouldn’t stop bouncing. “Why do you know that..?”
The tense silence that fell over the room was only broken by the sound of Yeonjun writing on the whiteboard, the marker making a soft chirping noise with each stroke.
“If you’re going to memorize each other’s seating schedules,” he started, turning to the two of them, “you might as well get married.”
Beomgyu’s retort died on his lips as Soobin spoke up. He scoffed, glaring at Yeonjun. “Shut up.”
Taehyun cleared his throat, and the room was quiet in an instant. “I hope you lovebirds make up quickly, because we have things to do,” he said, flicking ash into an empty teacup.
“As I was saying, we—” Taehyun was cut off abruptly.
Kai was reading a page in their spellbook, finger sliding across the page with each word. “The binding of two souls..”
Yeonjun’s ears perked up almost immediately, standing nearby to peek over Kai’s shoulder.
Beomgyu crossed his arms. Those two were going to cause some type of damage, messing with magic like that. He’d always been more hesitant when it came to things like casting spells.
His opinion becomes irrelevant when Soobin stands up curiously.
Taehyun merely raises an eyebrow, staying seated, “Can you read it, Kai?”
“When two names are spoken in unison beneath an unbroken flame, the tether shall form. Blood is not required, but sincerity is. Once bound, the hearts shall echo one another’s,” Kai declared.
“The bond may only be severed when truth is spoken without fear,” he whispered, leaning in close to Taehyun to be all dramatic.
“You and Yeonjun should bind your souls together. You know, since you’re best friends.” Beomgyu traced the edges of a splotch of dried candle wax on the table absentmindedly, a snicker leaving his lips.
“Wouldn’t it be more interesting if Soobin and Beomgyu did it instead?” Taehyun spoke up, looking at the two of them with a small grin.
Beomgyu was the only one who looked bothered by this. Of course it was him. He glared at the floor like it personally offended him. “Seriously? Never.”
Soobin raised an eyebrow, leaning against the wall with a slight smirk. “Oh? Why not try it? Worried it might work?”
Beomgyu’s heartbeat thudded in his ears. “You’re impossible.”
Cold air from the window breezed in, goosebumps crawling up Beomgyu’s arms. Kai was still holding the book. “You have to say the names together,” he said, squinting at the page. “Beneath an unbroken flame.”
“Beneath an unbroken flame?” Yeonjun repeated, already reaching for a match. “That just means to not let the fire go out, stupid.”
He struck the match ablaze. The amber flame made the room feel smaller in a way.
Taehyun facepalmed, rubbing two fingers to his temple. “Stop. We are not actually doing this,” he sighed.
“So uptight, Taehyun,” Yeonjun drawls. He brings the small flame to the wick of a nearby candle. Its soft aroma wafted through the air. “Statistically, nothing will happen.”
“It’s…symbolic,” Kai chimed in with a smirk.
Beomgyu scoffed, “Yeah, symbolic. Like Soobin’s ego.” He couldn’t help but throw a jab at him.
Soobin pushed off the wall, making eye contact with him. “At least mine exists.”
“Trust me, we know.”
Kai grinned, glancing between the two of them. “Okay, wait. For demonstration. I’ll read it over again. You guys just stand there looking dramatic.”
Beomgyu’s stomach turned. The thought of actually binding souls with his enemy was both terrifying and exhilarating as hell. He stared at the candle nervously.
“Hard pass,” Beomgyu said immediately, yet he stood in place.
The candle flame steadied, melted wax dripping down the sides. Kai cleared his throat, beginning to read once again.
“When two names are spoken in unison beneath an unbroken flame..”
“Choi Soobin..” Beomgyu snapped under his breath almost inaudibly, at the same time Soobin muttered—
“Choi Beomgyu.”
The two of them froze, and then the room went silent. The candle flame seemed to stretch taller.
Yeonjun blinked. “Oh.”
The air in the room shifted. A weight settled on Beomgyu’s shoulders, as if his breath was being dragged out from his lungs. Everything seemed to be much heavier. Like the room had forgotten to inhale.
Soobin stiffened as well. Their eyes meet, and Beomgyu feels a chill run down his spine.
The candle goes out and smoke curls upward in a thin line.
For a second, Beomgyu feels something low in his chest. A slight discomfort, like a thread pulling his ribs tight.
Kai lowered the book slowly, his expression a mix of confusion and fear. “Well..” he started.
Taehyun stared at the extinguished wick with furrowed brows. “That’s…not good.”
“Nothing happened.” Beomgyu swallows hard.
“Right,” Soobin agrees, shooting an uneasy glance at the candle.
Beomgyu stood up, immediately feeling like his legs would give out on him at any moment. “I’ll take that,” he picked up the candle clumsily. Hot wax dripped onto his knuckle.
He quickly sets the candle down on a nearby counter. Beomgyu cradles his stinging finger to his chest.
Across the room, Soobin flinches, cursing under his breath. He looks down at his finger. There’s nothing wrong.
Drawn to his voice, Beomgyu turns around, watching Soobin mimic his own reaction. His jaw clenched.
“What’s your problem?” Beomgyu scoffs, glaring at Soobin.
Soobin flexes his fingers, trying to shake off the pain, “What..?”
Beomgyu’s gaze dropped down to Soobin’s hand. He was caressing his right index finger. Same one that Beomgyu had burnt.
“Nothing. Nevermind,” he muttered.
Beomgyu sighs, a hollow feeling rising in his stomach. He looks over at Soobin. His face was twisted in discomfort.
“I don’t feel well, let’s end the meeting off here,” Beomgyu suggested, lightly nipping at his burnt finger with his tongue. Soobin nodded, looking equally unwell.
“You weren’t even supposed to say each other’s names. It was a test drive,” Yeonjun says with a roll of his eyes. “How do you make such a big mistake by accident?”
Beomgyu scoffs, not even knowing the answer himself. “Shut up. I’m leaving,” he mumbles.
He takes one step. Pain creeps up his legs as he inched closer to the door. He’s losing his balance, and not long after he’s on the ground, doubled over in pain. “Ah!”
His chest thrums. It’s not his own heartbeat. It had to be Soobin’s.
“Can you calm down? Your heartbeat is literally—” A white flash of pain shoots through him, making him wince.
Soobin scoffs, walking over to Beomgyu. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He kneels down next to him. “And get up. You’re so dramatic.”
“I’m not. It feels like I’m dying when I walk away from you.” Beomgyu almost sheds a tear of relief. He sighs shakily.
Soobin didn’t just roll his eyes, but turned on his heel, intending on distancing himself from Beomgyu as much as possible.
“I’m done with your theatrics, Beomgyu. Rot here if you want,” he snapped, wrenching the door open and taking a step into the hallway.
It seemed like the world shifted. No, shattered. Beomgyu’s ribs felt like they were being sewed together, vision blurring with pain.
In the hallway, Soobin gasps, his knees buckling. He clutches at his chest, feeling a phantom hand squeeze his heart until it stuttered. The taste of Beomgyu’s panic rises in his throat, cold and oily.
“Stop,” Beomgyu chokes out from the ground, forehead pressed against the wood, “Soobin, stop.”
Soobin crawls into the room, the agony slowly fading into a dull, angry throb. “What did you do,” he hissed, glaring at Beomgyu. “What kind of sick joke is this?”
Beomgyu looks up, eyes shimmering with tears of exhaustion that he refuses to let fall. “I didn’t do anything! You’re the one that walked away!”
They lock eyes, breathing in sync despite themselves. Embarrassed, Beomgyu looks away after a few seconds.
Taehyun walks over to their panting forms with a facepalm. “Well, you clearly can’t go anywhere without Beomgyu, Soobin,” he pushes his glasses up his nose, “when life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. Deal with it.”
The two of them, Beomgyu and Soobin, groan in unison.
This was going to be one heck of a day. Or even longer. Beomgyu didn’t like imagining that.
..
A long, awkward silence falls between the two. Beomgyu wipes at his tears quick enough to go unnoticed, standing up slowly. He glances down at Soobin, who is still on the ground.
“Well? We obviously can’t stay in this room forever,” he mutters under his breath.
Soobin scoffs, standing up and avoiding eye contact with Beomgyu.
“Well, we have to find a way to put some distance between us,” Soobin starts, “You’re not coming home with me.”
Now it was Beomgyu’s turn to scoff. He runs a hand through his shaggy hair with an exasperated sigh. “I have to, Soobin. I doubt we can just shake off this—” he gestures vaguely at the two of them.
Soobin takes a step away from Beomgyu, already feeling it—the faint pounding in the back of his head, the price of leaving his “other half.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Fine. Whatever.”
Beomgyu followed Soobin out into the hallway. He’s not exactly thrilled to stay over at his rival’s house overnight, hell, maybe even share a bed, but it also wasn’t the worst thing either.
Ever since he’d been cursed, Beomgyu felt as if his breathing was hollow and contricted. Like someone had drilled a hole through his chest. His body was a magnet, gravitating towards Soobin’s.
The two of them finally make it out of the crowded school hallways. Where all anyone does is stare, nitpicking at your every mistake. To say he was relieved was an understatement.
Outside, the fog sits like an unwelcome guest, lounging heavily over the landscape. It’s Beomgyu’s favorite type of weather, the type where you can’t see anything, air wet with the smell of rain sticking to it.
Beomgyu takes a deep inhale, but chokes halfway through at the sound of Soobin’s voice. He didn’t even notice they were at the bus stop now.
“Are you high or something, idiot? This way,” he’d remarked, grip tightening around Beomgyu’s wrist.
They lock eyes for a moment. Beomgyu rolls his eyes, shaking off Soobin’s grip. “Shut up.”
Soobin pulls out his phone to avoid talking any further. Beomgyu hesitantly follows suit after a few seconds. He scrolls through nothing in particular, hair hanging low over the screen anyway.
The cold winds are relentless. Soon, Beomgyu’s shivering, unable to feel his fingers wrapped around his phone. His teeth chatter just slightly.
Soobin, unfortunately, notices. He’d felt a slight tremble in his limbs, despite wearing warmer clothes than Beomgyu. Soobin’s expression softens imperceptibly when he looks over at him.
“You’re cold.”
Beomgyu bites down on his lower lip gently. “No.”
“I’m not blind, Beomgyu.” He stands closer, eyes trailing over his shuddering frame. “You’re shaking.”
Beomgyu pauses before answering. “Just leave me alone, alright?”
“Just let me—”
“No, Soobin. I don’t want anything from you!” Beomgyu snaps, immediately biting down on his tongue. He hadn’t meant to say it like that. To make it seem like he cared.
Soobin sneers, taking a step back. “Fine, then. You always have to make everything difficult, don’t you?” he spits out.
Beomgyu suddenly feels his chest tighten. He stumbles closer to Soobin, lips parting in a silent gasp. The bus arrives before Soobin can say anything further.
He just walks away, not leaving Beomgyu any time to get it together. Beomgyu pathetically breathes out, “Soobin, wait up. It..it hurts.” He groans, dragging his legs to keep up.
Soobin takes the window seat, which pisses Beomgyu off because one he would hog the beautiful view outside, but mostly because he was tired and wanted to rest his head against the window.
There’s nothing else to look at, so Beomgyu sneaks a glance at Soobin’s phone when he’s not looking. He’s texting someone. Some girl named Jiyu.
He feels sick, a feeling of jealousy pooling in his stomach at the thought of Soobin having a girlfriend. Beomgyu can’t help but ask about it.
“You’ve got a girlfriend, huh? Thought you weren’t capable of being genuine with anyone,” he jabs, words laced with disdain.
Soobin looks up from his phone screen, a flicker of what looks like hurt flashing in his eyes. He frowns. “No, not a girlfriend. Just my little sister. She worries too much.”
“Right. A sister. Sorry.” Beomgyu blushes. Of course he’d gotten it wrong. And he’d been unnecessarily rude again.
It doesn’t matter. It’s Soobin’s fault for being so uncharacteristically soft today.
—
Thankfully, the bus ride to Soobin’s place doesn’t take very long. The last thing Beomgyu would want is to fall asleep, and god forbid end up resting his head on Soobin’s shoulder. He stands up when the bus stops, eyes half lidded with exhaustion.
Soobin leads the way to his house. It’s dark outside, the streetlights casting a warm orange glow on his face. Beomgyu tries not to stare too hard.
“We’re here,” Soobin mutters to no one. He walks up to his porch, knocking sharply at the front door.
A few moments later, an older woman opens the door, who has warm, brown eyes identical to Soobin’s. Beomgyu does a short bow. “Good evening,” he says politely.
“Oh, who’s this?” The woman asks, smiling at Beomgyu. She turns to Soobin curiously.
Soobin sighs heavily. “He’s just a friend from school, mom,” he mumbles. The woman steps out of the way, letting the two of them come inside.
The house is dimly lit, and the smell of traditional Korean food wafts through the air. Soobin’s mother leads them inside. “Come on, boys. Sit down. I’m making dinner,” she gestures to the table.
Beomgyu sits right across from Soobin at the table. He shifts his focus over to Soobin’s mother, trying to distract himself from his presence and stupidly cute face. The woman is dishing out plates of noodles for the two of them to eat.
The silence is uncomfortable—and Soobin’s mother notices. Her eyebrows furrow with confusion. “What’s the matter? Why won’t you talk to each other?” she asks, setting their plates and chopsticks down on the table in front of them.
Soobin just shrugs, “I’m.. We’re just tired,” he answers shortly. Beomgyu scoffs internally. He picks up his chopsticks, starting to eat.
—
The meal doesn’t last long. Soobin’s mother attempts to make conversation, but it dies down as soon as it starts. She asks a question, and Soobin answers, his replies clipped and short. Beomgyu doesn’t have to do much talking.
Soon enough, he finds himself in Soobin’s bedroom. His cheeks are flushed from the intimacy of it all. He watches awkwardly from the doorway as Soobin sits down on his bed, unbuttoning his shirt.
“Don’t look,” Soobin mumbles under his breath. Beomgyu’s breath hitches. He turns away, studying the room instead.
It’s a lot cleaner than his own bedroom. Clothes folded neatly, his schoolwork in a neat pile on his desk. Of course, it’s nothing less than he expected from the top student. He eyes a trophy placed on Soobin’s desk.
“What’s that?” Beomgyu asks, trying to keep his voice casual. His face is still embarrassingly flushed. Soobin turns to him.
He’s wearing comfortable looking nightwear, looking adorably cute and sleepy. Shit. “It’s from a math competition I won a while ago,” he says dryly.
Soobin stands up, walking over to Beomgyu. He reaches around him to close the door, and then points at his drawers. “Find something to wear. You’re sleeping on the floor,” he mutters.
Beomgyu huffs, but doesn’t argue further.
—
“Don’t you have a spare pillow?” He grumbles, turning over for what feels like the millionth time that night. The floor is too cold and harsh. He’d much rather be sleeping next to Soobin. The thought of sharing a bed with Soobin is well, irritating of course, but at the same time exciting.
There’s no response. Beomgyu rolls his eyes. There’s no way he’d fallen asleep this quickly. He sits up slowly, looking at Soobin.
He’s indeed sleeping, peacefully, even. Those soft pink lips are parted, chest rising and falling softly. Beomgyu groans, fighting back a smile. “Choi Soobin,” he whispers with a roll of his eyes.