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To tear himself apart is the only way Beomgyu's known how to love. Unveiling himself and allowing his desires to reign free, hoping one day, he'll receive the same passion in return. And yet, Beomgyu feels he can never fully reach Soobin in the way he truly desires. Soobin, who is one with his work and disciplined in ways Beomgyu could only hope to be.
At times, Beomgyu believes himself selfish with the way he wishes to occupy Soobin's time. He's a busy man, with a strict schedule, Beomgyu is aware of this. But it doesn't keep him from showing up to Soobin's apartment on late evenings — tonight, with a bottle of wine and a record he's been dying to listen to together. Their favorite way of spending quality time.
It's a quarter to five when Beomgyu gets to his place. Soobin isn't home from work just yet, but he will be soon enough, so in the meantime, Beomgyu makes himself at home in his living room, where natural light paints every surface and even in his absence, Soobin's beautiful spirit roams. His heavy scent lingers on the decorative pillows and plush throws, bergamot and rose mixing and gracing Beomgyu's senses with something sweet and familiar while he awaits Soobin's arrival. He isn't entirely sure when that will be, between Seoul's heavy traffic and Soobin's habit of visiting the convenience store in search of comfort snacks after a long work week, there is no telling. But he's more than willing to wait patiently, as his mind drifts into fantasies of how they'll spend the rest of their night together.
He can already picture it — them getting so drunk on wine that he has to carry Soobin back to his bedroom, giggles escaping those pretty lips as Soobin struggles to unbutton his shirt all the way and slip into bed, the surface of his skin flushed and nearly hot to the touch. Beomgyu hasn't even had a drink himself or seen Soobin at all today and yet, he swears he can already taste the dry wine lingering on his tongue, can feel Soobin's warm breath ghosting over his skin, like an absolute mad man. And Beomgyu fears he may be.
What he knows for certain is this: when Soobin walks through that door, the rest of the world will cease to exist and only he and Soobin will remain, and he will bask in the high of Soobin's attention and fall useless at his touch. He will take any part of Soobin he's willing to give him, even if it means having to tend to his tired form when he arrives. He's done so before, plenty of times — removed Soobin's coat from his tall frame carefully, rubbing the knots out of his shoulders and burying his face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in. The smell is always the same, that sharp floral scent enveloping them as Soobin's bones settle into Beomgyu's warmth, finally.
All Beomgyu wants is to be Soobin's home. So he makes himself present every chance he can get, surrendering himself to Soobin completely, until there is nothing left of him.
But for now, Beomgyu waits. He places the bottle of wine on Soobin's kitchen counter and the record on his coffee table, and makes himself comfortable on the couch, settling in before doing what comes to him naturally — writing as time slips away.
Beomgyu is currently working on editing his manuscript, a collection of short stories centered on desire; exploring its depths and the lengths humans will go in their pursuits of it. He and Soobin have had many conversations surrounding the topic, how their own passions have consumed them to extents they would've never imagined. In Beomgyu's twenty-five years of life, he's realized that passion can present itself in many forms — through one's work, hobbies, and carnal desires — and that it can bloom just as easily and it can escape you. It's why Beomgyu has always been set on chasing them, despite how turbulent the journey may be, because simply, it is what keeps him alive.
Writing is Beomgyu's greatest passion, his first love. He's known from a very young age that nothing can rival the pleasure brought about by putting pen to paper. That if he weren't able to do so, it'd be like him losing the ability to speak. It's the ultimate release. What better way to reach the hearts of others? To convey the innermost fears and desires of your own? Once this clicked for Beomgyu, it became a fixation. He ended every day with a journal entry, his observations and reflections spanning pages upon pages, and the sentimental artist in him longed to keep every one — so he has. In his apartment, at the foot of his bed, there sits a locked chest where all his completed journals lie. Beomgyu keeps its key on the same chain that holds Soobin's spare, wearing them near to his heart.
Soobin is the only person who's ever been able to grasp the depth of his obsession. Beomgyu had fallen in love with a writer the day they met, back in university when their dreams coincided and their lives began to quickly intertwine. Soobin was a writer too, then, but those dreams have long since vanished, brought on by the fear of having nothing substantial to hold himself steady. So instead, Soobin turned to the soulless corporate machine, where stability was promised but contentment was not.
The change in trajectory felt blasphemous to Beomgyu initially, but eventually, sorrowfully, he came to understand his decision. He too has lost his soul to many things, Soobin being one of them, so he had no other choice but to understand. Although for Beomgyu, other than Soobin, writing is all he has. It's like breathing to him, and even if his breaths grow shallow and he finds it difficult to do so at times, in the end, it is inevitable. It will always be a part of him, as so his love for Soobin. It always comes back to this.
Suddenly, instead of his piece on desire, Beomgyu finds a new focus. He writes of the one currently occupying his mind; the reason for the sun setting and casting shadows across this apartment, its rays illuminating the fire in Beomgyu's heart.
It's Friday evening, Beomgyu writes, and I'm thinking of you, as always. When the words and days aren't flowing as easily as they usually do and I find myself riddled with uncertainty, there is one thing that remains the same — your presence on my mind.
My love, you have enchanted me.
Lately, I've been thinking of you as I fall asleep. When my eyes grow weary and the light from my bedroom window gradually slips away, no longer granting me comfort from the dark, I allow my mind to drift, and naturally, it lands on you. My imagination takes me to where you are — the places you wander that I only catch stills of, the bed in which you lie every night without me — and I find peace within these daydreams. I find comfort in the ease you bestow upon me, even in your absence. And I pray to the universe, to every deity that exists within, that this connection binds us in every lifetime.
Soobin has joked in the past that Beomgyu's words hold the power of manifestations. That if they were written hundreds of years ago, they'd inspire prayers of today, would bring people down to their knees in hopes of ushering in comfort and endless blessings.
Beomgyu's blessing walks through the door just as he begins to write to him. The sound of keys jingling and entering the lock causes him to still, and he closes his journal as if he has something to hide other than the intensity of his love.
Soobin is exhausted when he enters the apartment, Beomgyu can tell easily. A nine-to-five will wear anyone out, he knows, but the dark circles under his eyes and the way Soobin's feet can barely carry him past the door frame causes him more concern than usual.
"Hyung," Beomgyu calls to him. He tucks his journal away, making his way to him swiftly.
"Beomgyu-yah," Soobin replies. The surprise in his tone is overridden by the softening of his eyes, relief filling them. "I was just gonna call you."
On regular nights, when Beomgyu isn't here, their routine usually consists of hours-long phone calls where they recount their entire days to each other, airing their frustrations and discussing everything under the sun, before they're ready to surrender to the night at last.
It's a bit earlier than when Soobin would usually call him, but the way his shoulders relax as Beomgyu inches near, sliding his arms around Soobin's slender frame, tells him that maybe Soobin was craving his company just as much as he was.
"Now you don't have to," Beomgyu replies, unable to help his smile as they fall into each other. They linger there for a while, Soobin gripping the back of Beomgyu's sweater like he'll disappear at any second, but Beomgyu would never dream of it. He'd rather lose himself entirely than let go of Soobin in this moment. It's Soobin who eventually pulls away, and it takes everything in Beomgyu to resist the urge to once again envelope him.
He takes this opportunity to help Soobin settle down instead, taking his coat and hanging it on the rack for him, as if it's Beomgyu's apartment Soobin has come home to.
It could be ours, someday, Beomgyu thinks, dreams. He wants to be the one Soobin returns to every evening, not just a voice on the end of the line that separates them.
Beomgyu turns to face Soobin again and fully takes him in. It's then it dawns on him just how tired Soobin is. His hair is tousled, like he's been unable to keep his hands out of it, and his shoulders are slumped as if they've been carrying the weight of the past twenty-four hours on them.
How on earth is he even standing in this state?
Beomgyu ushers Soobin to the couch, "Sit," he urges. There's only one thing thing that can fix this. "I'm running you a bath."
"Beomgyu-yah…" Soobin says, almost too gently. Beomgyu nearly melts at the sound of it. "You don't have to. You came all this way—"
"I want to," Beomgyu declares. "Let me take care of you. Please."
They hold each other's eyes for a moment. Beomgyu's stare is unwavering, full of defiance; Soobin would be naive to believe he'd give in so easily. Beomgyu has never been the type, never will be, especially when it comes to caring for the ones he loves, Soobin knows this well enough. So he surrenders with a heavy sigh, loosening his tie and allowing himself to fall back into the couch as Beomgyu smiles to himself, delighting in this small victory.
"Do you have any epsom salt left?"
Soobin does, in fact. Beomgyu makes sure to add a good amount when drawing the bath for him. He lights a couple of candles as well and places them around the tub — one honey apple and another vanilla scented; he dims the lights so they're easier on Soobin's eyes after spending hours under the harsh, white ones of his office; and fills a bowl with water so he can wash Soobin's hair for him.
He watches Soobin ease into the bathtub, exhaling a sigh of relief as the warm water surrounds him. The candlelight illuminates it beautifully, reflections of its flames rippling with its sudden movement, Soobin's skin glistening under the dancing light. The image itself brings about a sense of calm within Beomgyu, as well as the hope that Soobin will be at peace finally.
He takes a seat beside Soobin on the edge of tub before asking, "Is it comfortable enough for you?"
Soobin nods then asks him in return, "Are you getting in, too?"
There's a glimmer of hope in Soobin's eyes; they're luminous, the golden light flickering in his irises like an imperishable flame. The invitation is already tempting enough, but Soobin's stare nearly pulls Beomgyu in. He resists though, shaking his head and setting the bowl down beside him. "I think you need it more than I do, hyung," Beomgyu says, changing the subject. "Tell me about your day"
Soobin throws his head back with a groan. "Don't even get me started," he says, "It was absolute hell. One of the brands we represent posted something slightly questionable on their twitter account—"
Oh, this should be interesting, Beomgyu thinks, listening on.
Soobin is a creative strategist for an advertising agency here in Seoul, so he works closely with clients to create ad campaigns for different brands. He always comes to Beomgyu with the wildest stories of rude clients, people mishandling the simplest situations, or failing to do their jobs properly. This sounds like it might be the mix of all three. The job itself sounds like a pain; Beomgyu doubts he'd be able to handle that type of work. But if anyone can handle conflict well, it's Soobin, so the position suits him.
"—and you know, that happens sometimes," Soobin continues, "But for some reason, the employee running the account thought it'd be a good idea to go back and forth with one of their followers in the comment section, like a fucking idiot. And without approval, mind you! Anyway, long story short, we had to call an emergency meeting to sort the issue."
"Oh, yikes…" Beomgyu comments as he begins the process of rinsing Soobin's hair.
The way Soobin closes his eyes as the water hits his scalp reminds Beomgyu of when his mother used to wash his own when he was younger. He used to hate it, the feeling of cold water trickling down his back and the pads of her fingers roughly massaging his scalp. It felt like a punishment back then, but now, he understands level of patience and care that goes into something like this — the tenderness and selflessness of such an action, and he appreciates her more for it.
"Yeah, yikes." Soobin opens his eyes, slowly. "And of course the meeting had to fall on my lunch break, of all times," he complains. "They couldn't even wait an hour to fuck up and screw themselves over, they had to drag me and my sandwich into it, too."
Beomgyu gasps playfully. "How dare they?!"
"I'm saying!" Soobin exclaims. His voice reaches a humorous pitch as he throws his hands up dramatically. Beomgyu snorts at his theatrics. Soobin is endlessly endearing, the way his brows furrow and lips protrude when he's annoyed, forming the cutest pout. He resembles a bunny the most when he's like this. Beomgyu resists kissing the frustration off his lips. "Taehyun and I had to draft an apology for the brand to post to their social media. It took forever but they seemed pretty satisfied with it."
"That's good," Beomgyu hums. He reaches for the shampoo — it's a new one Soobin's been trying out lately, coconut milk and shea butter. It has a warmer, gentler scent than the tree tea one he'd been using before; Beomgyu thinks he prefers this. "Seriously, would they do without you guys?"
Beomgyu works the shampoo through Soobin's hair and the rich, creamy scent fills their senses. It mingles with that of the candles, the sweet aroma encompassing them as Soobin settles into Beomgyu's touch, closing his eyes once again. Beomgyu is about to ask Soobin how he feels when a gentle purr escapes him. And there's his answer.
Then Soobin asks softly, suddenly, "What would I do without you?"
The question floats in the air between them, causing Beomgyu's fingers to still. But only for a second. He needs to keep it together, though it's nearly impossible when Soobin says such sweet things. That soft, tired voice, full of an adoration reserved for Beomgyu only, and he longs to keep it that way; doesn't want anyone else to even dream of sharing a moment so tender with him. He wouldn't dare say this, though.
"I don't know," Beomgyu replies finally, but it doesn't feel right leaving it at that. "Fall asleep in the tub and drown, maybe?" Now that's more like it.
Soobin releases a hearty laugh, the melodious sound gracing Beomgyu's ears and causing his heartbeat to steady.
"You have that little faith in my swimming abilities?"
"Let's be honest, hyung, you can barely float. It's a miracle you haven't slipped under."
Soobin doesn't say anything, just beams at Beomgyu fondly. It's so beautifully heartwarming that Beomgyu's convinced he'll melt into a puddle right by Soobin's side, but he thinks he'd be fine with it.
Beomgyu aches for this to become their every day. To be integrated in every part of Soobin's routine, from the moment he wakes until the sun sets and moonlight is all that is left of them. It's his greatest desire, and although they've been in each other's lives for close to a decade now, Beomgyu has yet to express to Soobin the depth of his devotion. Though a part of him fears that if he waits any longer, it might eat him alive. Beomgyu has him right within his reach yet he still longs for Soobin in a way that is animalistic, desperate in the lengths he's willing to go for him. The desire is insatiable, fills his bloodstream and becomes him. For Beomgyu is a lover at heart — willing to tear himself apart, bit by bit, to repair the object of his affection.
Getting Soobin out of the bathroom was a difficult task. If it weren't for the hunger tugging at their stomachs, he's sure Soobin would've spent the entire night in there. Maybe the morning, too. But he finishes his bath eventually (and doesn't drown in the process, thankfully). And once he dries off, Soobin heads to his bedroom to change into something comfortable for the night.
While he does, Beomgyu orders dinner for the two of them. Soobin has left the choice up to him, but he still chooses to order Soobin's favorite over his own anyways: kimchi jjim and two orders of bingsu for dessert, because Soobin is a sucker for sweets and he deserves it, especially with the day he's had.
Soobin emerges from his bedroom appearing more at ease than he did an hour prior, which relieves Beomgyu. He looks cozy in his tartan pajama pants and navy crewneck that Beomgyu has seen him in no less than a thousand times. It might've been Beomgyu's, now that he thinks about it, the material a bit too tight on his frame. It's definitely his style too, but that's besides the point.
"The food should be here soon," Beomgyu says, watching a smile spreads across Soobin's lips at the confirmation.
"Thank god, I'm starving," Soobin says as he approaches him.
He's about to take a seat next to him on the couch when Beomgyu remembers, sitting up suddenly, "Wait. I brought you something," he says, then correcting himself, "A couple of things, actually."
He leads Soobin into the kitchen, rounding the island while Soobin remains on the opposite side. He takes a seat at one of the stools like a patron waiting to be served in his own home, while Beomgyu turns around to grab two glasses from one of the cabinets. Soobin doesn't need to guide him or tell him which one; Beomgyu knows Soobin's home as well as his own. He knows where every dish and utensil is kept, and he navigates the space with ease, fishing the bottle opener from the drawer beside the oven once the glasses are acquired.
"I brought some wine for us," Beomgyu tells Soobin, placing the glasses down in front of him before reaching for the bottle on the counter. "And a new record, too. I thought it'd be nice to listen to over dinner."
Soobin's eyes soften, glistening under the warm overhead light. "That's so sweet of you," he says sincerely, a heartfelt thank you leaving his lips before he asks, "What are we trying tonight?"
Beomgyu has been on a mission to expand Soobin's palette for the past few months. Soobin isn't much of a drinker (especially of hard liquors, so they tend to stay away from those — for now, at least), but he's expressed an interest in wanting to try new things. So every once in a while, Beomgyu will deliver, bringing over different drinks for them try together that Soobin probably wouldn't otherwise.
They've been on a wine kick lately, recently making the transition from whites to reds — which Beomgyu prefers — and the star of the night is pinot noir, one of his personal favorites.
Beomgyu turns the bottle so Soobin can see the logo. "Pinot noir," he says, removing the cork with ease.
Soobin looks impressed, "Fancy," he says, eyeing the bottle, "another red?"
"My favorite," Beomgyu smiles.
He begins pouring wine into each glass, trying to make sure the amount is even, but in the midst of his concentration, Beomgyu can feel Soobin's heavy stare on him. It's torturous — the silence between them, the way heat pools in Beomgyu's stomach and courses throughout his body. It prickles up his neck and rises to his cheeks, and undoubtedly, Soobin has noticed, but he says nothing. He's seen Soobin naked plenty of times, has been stripped at the hands of Soobin himself and yet, Beomgyu finds himself crumbling under the mere weight of his gaze, as if he has something to fear.
Beomgyu clears his throat and looks up finally, handing a glass to Soobin. His expression is warm, his smile brilliant as he receives it. "What do you think?" Beomgyu asks, picking up his glass as well. He needs a drink immediately.
He watches Soobin swirl the wine around in the glass, glancing contemplatively before taking a sip. "Hmm… That's not too bad," he says. "Not bad at all, actually. I think I prefer this to the cabernet sauvignon."
Beomgyu beams then takes a sip himself. "I'm glad you do," he says proudly, "I spent good money on it."
They transition into the living room once their food finally arrives. They've only had a couple of glasses of wine each at this point, so they bring the bottle with them to finish the rest of it off. Beomgyu tasks Soobin with putting on the record as he sets their food out neatly on the coffee table. The album they're listening to tonight is Lifetime by Erika de Casier, a new favorite artist of Beomgyu's. Yeonjun recommended her music to him not too long ago, and he's been in love with her sound ever since.
He came across her most recent album during a visit to the record store a week ago, upon searching for something new. He was delighted when he found it, recognizing her name immediately, and realized he hadn't listened to this album in particular — and what better way to experience it for the first time than here with Soobin? They have always bonded over their similar tastes in music, trading albums and playlists avidly like collectors items. Beomgyu believes her music will set the perfect mood for the night, and he hopes Soobin will enjoy her sound just as much.
They settle into the couch as the opening track begins to play. The smooth tempo and soothing harmonies fill the space while they enjoy the meal between them. They occasionally take breaks from conversation to take sips of their wine, and just as they would on their phone calls, they talk about every little thing that crosses their minds: how the beautiful the weather was today, the wind making herself known once again with autumn's awaited return; how Beomgyu's favorite cafe has added new menu items in honor of the season (the banana bread latte he tried this morning being his favorite by far); and currently, how the bus ride home felt longer and more packed than usual, irritating Soobin greatly—
"I was so close to ending it all, Gyu-yah," Soobin says, his speech noticeably more dramatic, it dragging a little. "I swear, I was contemplating jumping out the window at one point."
Beomgyu snorts. Soobin is clearly tipsy. If the pink spreading across his neck and cheeks didn't make it obvious, the way he's become more talkative would've definitely given him away. Beomgyu finds it incredibly endearing, though — Soobin's habit of rambling after getting a few drinks in his system, even if what he's saying doesn't always make the most sense. Beomgyu will still entertain him, anyway.
"Enough about me," Soobin says. He places his empty takeout container down on the table, falling back into the cushions before turning to Beomgyu. "What have you been up to since you got here? Did you edit any?"
Beomgyu shifts in his seat. He isn't entirely sure he wants to admit to Soobin that the only writing he'd gotten up to was that of an embarrassingly sappy love letter dedicated to him, so he settles for half the truth, "Not much, really. Couldn't find the motivation, you know?"
And he hasn't been able to for a while. Each day, he opens the document where his manuscript lies and stares at the words until they blur in his vision, blending together and bleeding into the white background. What does it even mean to be a writer, when you can't even muster the words to do so?
Soobin nods, shooting him a sympathetic look as if he picks up on Beomgyu's unspoken frustration. "I'm sure it'll come to you eventually. Don't push yourself too hard, Gyu-yah."
"I'll try not to," Beomgyu says quietly. But the truth is, he has been.
He can't help it. Soobin may be understanding, but Beomgyu has different standards for himself — expectations to live up to, deadlines to fulfill (emails from his editor he has yet to respond to). Not to mention the nagging voice in his head telling him that this collection won't live up to his other written pieces that granted him this opportunity in the first place. He hasn't shared these grievances with Soobin, but Soobin has known him long enough to know how often Beomgyu gets in his head about these things, the extent of his spirals. He can probably sense it without Beomgyu having to say a word; he's always seen right through him, frustratingly so.
He's always been the best at providing him comfort as well, the only one Beomgyu seeks. Soobin places a gentle hand on Beomgyu's thigh and while normally, he'd find solace within his touch, this time it burns, right through the cotton blanket draped over him. Beomgyu tries to find a distraction somewhere, anywhere. Through the remnants of wine in his glass, taking a sip to relieve the tension growing in his chest; through the slow, hypnotic rhythm of the song playing in the background, its lyrics trailing slowly around his mind, before blocking them out completely.
The truth was in the bottom of the wine
But the look can make you talk a lot
You told me all your fears,
I told you mine…
He downs the rest of his wine before setting the glass down. The universe clearly finds pleasure in his suffering.
Then Soobin suggests, proving this even further, "You should stay the night," as if the thought of being here with him, having drowned the feelings that were threatening to spill from his lips, wasn't suffocating enough. "We don't have to do anything," he adds like a bumbling idiot, "but we can lie in bed and I can read over your draft, just like the old times."
Like the old times. Beomgyu didn't realize he'd repeated the words aloud until Soobin sends him a nod and a smile that nearly makes him fall apart. The suggestion astounds Beomgyu. His heartbeat quickens, he can feel it in his ears, thrumming in his chest, as his hands begin to tremble.
Like the old times, like they would in university, back when he'd spend nights at Soobin's studio apartment and they'd read and critique each other's pieces until the sky grew orange and dusty pink and dawn enveloped them. It'd felt like the most vulnerable thing ever at the time, giving Soobin a piece of him to break down and tear into, but he'd always approach the process so gently. Always went into it with a level of understanding that ran deeper than Beomgyu's flesh, as if he'd taken a peak beneath his skin and through his bones, memorizing the shape and color of every organ, of the blood coursing through his veins, until he knew Beomgyu inside and out. It was the most beautiful, soul-binding thing to understand another person so intimately. And when their eyes and mouths tired, they would huddle together in Soobin's full-sized bed that could barely fit a single body and sleep until they were forced to wake and resume their lives outside of each other.
Their first kiss was in that full-sized bed; Beomgyu remembers it clearly. After all, he was the one who initiated it, daring to make his feelings known in spite of himself. He could have sworn Soobin felt the same, with the way he held Beomgyu's face so close, so carefully, his thumb caressing Beomgyu's skin as if it were the most delicate thing in existence. And to this day, Beomgyu can still feel it — the tenderness of his touch, the taste of Soobin heavy on his tongue. But it all pales in comparison to the disappointment that came the following morning when they went on as if nothing had ever happened. Even now, they pretend that nothing has ever changed.
Things quickly escalated from there. They spent more and more nights together under the comfort of Soobin's sheets, Beomgyu allowing himself to come undone under the warmth of Soobin's touch. Reading each other's works quickly became a guise for something more, and Beomgyu found himself falling at a speed he couldn't have anticipated. Even if he didn't speak openly of these feelings, they were ever-present in his writing, echoes of Soobin's spirit laced between the words, lingering between the lines. To anyone, it would have been obvious, so for a while out of fear, he stopped seeking Soobin's critiques. And after graduation, Soobin stopped writing completely; the main thing binding their souls now a remnant of Soobin's past. Beomgyu felt a part of heart was buried with it.
"… I don't know if that's a good idea, hyung," he admits, uneasy.
Soobin tilts his head as he eyes Beomgyu curiously, his brows furrowing. "Is everything okay?" he asks, "Have you had too much to drink?"
Beomgyu laughs increduluously, "I think you might have had too much to drink."
The hurt crossing Soobin's features makes him regret his words immediately, and the loss of his touch burns even more than the initial contact. Beomgyu didn't mean to come off as harsh as he did, he just…
He shakes his head. He doesn't even know. There's a lot of emotions he's struggling to process at the moment, lots of memories that are hitting way too deep for his comfort. His composure is slipping through his fingertips with every second he spends by Soobin's side, and he fears his sanity may be next.
"What's going on, Beomgyu-yah?" Soobin asks, sitting up.
The conversation is sobering; this isn't how Beomgyu envisioned their night going. Any other time, he would've given in to Soobin's request — would've stayed the night and following morning, however long until Soobin grew tired of him. Now he feels like he's coming close to breaking down, like everything he worked so hard to keep in, everything that they have built together, is threatening to fall apart. And it'll be at his hands.
"I can't do this anymore, Soobin…" Beomgyu's voice is weak and he refuses to meet Soobin's eyes. He's ashamed he can't at least do that; he feels pathetic, weaker than the words he's failing to find.
"What do you mean?" Of course, Soobin doesn't understand. He can't read his mind, despite Beomgyu's beliefs. Or maybe he's lost that ability with time, gone with the strength of their connection. "Do what? Writing? You're amazing at what you do, Beomgyu-yah. This is your calling—"
"That's not what I mean," Beomgyu interrupts and clarifies, "I mean this," he says, motioning between them, "Us. Whatever we are. This isn't good for either of us, hyung."
The words fall heavy, Soobin's expression crumbling completely. Beomgyu doesn't think he's ever seen the light drain from his eyes so quickly. He wants to reach into the sky and beg the sun to restore the life in them, to reach over and kiss him until that radiant smile returns to his lips.
But that's the problem; Beomgyu isn't sure if he can keep this front up any longer. If he can keep giving parts of himself away for someone who doesn't reciprocate how he feels. It isn't fair to either of them. Soobin deserves to find someone he can settle down and build a life with, who he can dedicate his time and energy to without having to worry about Beomgyu's interference. This decade-long entanglement will only ruin them both in the end.
"Did I do something wrong?" Soobin sounds smaller than he ever has and it breaks his heart.
Beomgyu shakes his head. "I just…" he trails off, trying to muster the strength to better explain himself, "I think we might've outgrown each other, hyung. I know you want something more than this, and I wish I could be the one to give that to you, but I know your heart could never belong to me, no matter how much I long for it to, and it'd only be selfish of me to hold onto you any longer."
"Beomgyu…"
Soobin reaches over, but Beomgyu pulls away, gripping the cotton fabric between his fingers to ground himself. He will be strong. He has to be. Still, he grows more weary as the seconds pass, his eyes beginning to fill with tears in spite of himself. "Believe me, hyung. It's for the best."
"I don't want what you think is for the best," Soobin says, "I want you, Beomgyu-yah. Can't you see that? It's only ever been you for me." His voice is trembling as he speaks and his hands are too, Beomgyu notices, but it doesn't keep Soobin from reaching for him one more time, cupping his face and wiping away Beomgyu's fallen tears. Beomgyu hates how easily he falls into Soobin's touch, but he can't help himself any longer. He allows Soobin to hold him close, just as he did all those years ago, for the very first time. "Every night I'm forced to spend alone, without you, is torture," Soobin continues, "I can't imagine anyone I'd feel more at home with than you, and I know for a fact there's no one else I'd rather come home to."
Words have never been harder to grasp. Beomgyu fears he'll disappear under Soobin's touch. There are so many questions running through his mind at the moment:
How come he hadn't said anything before? Beomgyu wants to ask, but he knows he's just as guilty, both victims of their silence.
How long has he felt this way? A part of him is afraid to find out. To know just how long these feelings have been lingering between them, and all the years they've spent dreading the uncertainty of their connection, all the time they've wasted...
"I don't know what to say," Beomgyu admits.
"You don't have to say anything," Soobin whispers. "Just know that I love you," he confesses, finally. "I want to spend every waking day with you, and I regret not making my feelings known sooner. I'm so sorry, Beomgyu-yah."
"I love you, too," Beomgyu says softly through his tears. He finally wills himself to look up at Soobin, and his eyes are gentle as they meet his own. They radiate with the warmth Beomgyu has yearned for, for all these years. The warmth that continuously inspires him and makes him feel whole.
The declaration rings in Beomgyu's heart like a promise, and Soobin leans in to seal it with a kiss. It reminds him so much of that first night, how Beomgyu's entire being was filled with the hope of something more becoming of it. But this time, it actually feels set in stone. He can dream of a life with Soobin without having to come down from his fantasy, and he'll revel in knowing that at last, that they are each other's.
Beomgyu does end up staying the night, and he intends to every night that proceeds it. Soobin's bed is more comfortable than his anyways, and bigger as well. And when Beomgyu eases into it, next to him, all his worries seem to dissipate.
He's always preferred nights like this — where they don't fuck but he can hold Soobin instead, their passion not limited to one's release but amplified by the simple sound of their breathing, rhythmic and melding into one. There are many things Beomgyu can tell just from this: that despite how unreal this all feels, they are alive; that at last, Soobin has found solace in his presence; and that if Beomgyu's final breath is taken here and now, he will feel no remorse as he has finally reached heaven by Soobin's side.