Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Summer, 1982. Bupyeong All Boys High School.

The school rooftop.

A place once known for its quiet grace—a hidden sanctuary floating above the chaos below. The wind always seemed a little softer, and the sky always just within reach here. Students had long claimed it as their own: to daydream, to cry, to confess. It was where all the I want to go to SNU, I can't wait to leave this damn school, I hope to stay here a little longer, were said.

It was where whispered wishes and secret fears were set free, a place for hopes, for longing.

Until some students turned it into their personal boxing ring.

“I can’t even understand you with that dumb fucking accent, Mad Dog,” one boy jeered, his uniform a lazy mess of undone buttons and a necktie hanging somewhere around his chest. He mimicked the sharp, sing-song lilt of the Daegu dialect with mocking exaggeration. “What’re you lookin’ at, huh? You some kind of thug?”

Beomgyu didn’t flinch. He stepped forward with a calm demeanor instead, so icy it made the air between them freeze. 

He didn’t need to raise his voice or puff out his chest—his silence spoke louder. No smug grin. No dramatic posturing. Just that deadpan, unreadable face and eyes too dark, too tired, too old for someone his age.

Despite the soft features—doe-like eyes, round lips—something about Beomgyu unsettled people. Maybe it was the way he looked at you like he already knew your secrets, (he does), and maybe it was the way his presence alone made the atmosphere feel heavier.

Beomgyu, the leader of Bupyeong 313 Titan.

The boys taunting him clearly hadn’t done their homework. They didn’t know who they were messing with. They only knew that one of their guys had gotten his ass handed to him by Beomgyu a few days ago. What they didn’t know was that it happened because their guy had been beating up a random student in the alley, and Beomgyu… Well, Beomgyu had rules.

And one of them was: You don’t lay a hand on someone who doesn't deserve it.

“I’ll say this once,” Beomgyu said, voice low, but steady. No nervousness, as if he had practiced for this kind of moment. But honestly? You just get used to it. “Get the hell out of here. Don’t mess with me. Don’t mess with my boys.”

Instead of backing down, the group burst into laughter, nudging each other and mimicking his accent again. 

“Look, the puppy’s barking! Say arf! Wanna play catch, buddy?”

His gang stirred behind him, fists clenched and ready, but Beomgyu didn’t move. He raised one hand to stop them.

He wanted to handle this himself. And so, his eyes scanned the group like a seasoned general: identifying the leader, the weak links, the hotheads, the cowards. 

He didn’t bother to announce his next move.

He struck.

A single, clean punch snapped across the leader’s jaw. The boy’s head twisted mid-air before he crumpled to the ground, completely blindsided. Gasps and a few startled cheers came from the crowd peeking through the stairwell door. No one dared enter, but word spread like wildfire.

“Bupyeong Titan Leader versus Yeongsan Tiger Clan Leader! Beomgyu won!”

From whispers to excited murmurs, boys shoved each other aside to catch a glimpse of the chaos unfolding.

The fight broke loose in full now. The other boys lunged in, some faster than others. Beomgyu’s body moved with precision—like someone who’d fought enough to learn how to fight smart. Not every hit landed, but enough did. He moved with a brutal, fluid rhythm.

Duck. Strike. Step back. Elbow. Sidekick.

He targeted the strongest first, taking down the leader’s right-hand with a solid knee to the gut. The rest began to falter—some slowing down, others hesitating. 

Blood on his lip. Dust all over his shirt. He stood tall and stared at the others, unwavering.

“Come on,” he said simply, almost disappointed. “Come at me.”

But none of them did.

Even through the bruises forming on his jaw and cheekbone, Beomgyu looked unshaken. The others—suddenly so idle—had nothing left to say. They stared at him, eyes flicking down to their fallen leader, then back up to the boy who didn’t even look out of breath.

That was the moment they realized the real threat had been in front of them the entire time.

Indeed, the Mad Dog.

The stairwell door burst open with a crash. Rushed footsteps. A furious shout.

“YAH! What the hell are you kids doing?! Aren’t you from neighbourhood school?!”

The gym teacher’s voice thundered across the rooftop.

“And you—Choi Beomgyu! To the principal’s office. Now!”

So much for justice.

𖦹

“Beomgyu,” the principal sighed heavily, his tone more tired than angry. “If you keep this up, we’ll have no choice but to suspend you, and I really don’t want to do that—but I will if I have to.”

He slid a paper across the desk. Every single day for three months, Beomgyu was told that he had to clean all the toilets in the school. Not that he hasn't done that, after all.

That was the reason he memorized every single place where the students hide their stash of forbidden things. Cigarette packs, Fentanyl, condoms, a whole 1L bottle of lube. You name it.

Beomgyu didn’t argue. Just nodded, then reached for the pen.

“...And I’ll be calling your mother.”

“She’s overseas,” Beomgyu lied flatly.

She wasn’t. She was in Daegu. Same old apartment. Same bitter voice on the phone every weekend, asking why he hadn’t sent money or returned to help with the old restaurant with no permit. 

“Well,” the principal murmured, flipping through Beomgyu’s file, filled with multiple papers of detention, punishment, and disciplinary problem history, “at least your grades are amazing. Keep your head down. Finish your hours. Maybe you’ll still get into a decent university, got it?”

Beomgyu signed the paper, stood, and bowed quietly before heading back to class.

He walked in through the back door. The class immediately fell silent. The teacher didn’t say anything—just raised a brow before continuing the lecture. Typical Beomgyu, a normal scene for them every other week.

“Beom!” Beomgyu’s gang scrambled to make space, one of them wiping off his chair with their sleeve like a loyal attendant.

He sat down, greeting them, then opened his book like nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t just fought five guys on the rooftop and earned another three months of punishment.

He took out a pen and started taking notes.

Not a single word. Not a single reaction.

A different kind of insane.

Their lesson finished as the bell rang, and people rushed to the cafeteria, some decided to go and play basketball instead, and a few stayed in class to eat, including Beomgyu and the gang.

Some others though, thought sneaking around checking out pretty boys was way better than eating.

“Where? Where’s the new kid?”

A smooth, honey-dipped voice whispered just past the edge of a sliding window, hushed but way too excited for a Monday morning. Yeonjun leaned in dangerously, hair falling into his eyes as he squinted into Class 3-1.

Two heads flanked him—Taehyun, ever observant, and Wooyoung, who was already grinning like he’d won the lottery.

“This is your fault,” Yeonjun muttered as he smacked the back of Wooyoung’s head. “I was sick for three damn days because of that pudding you bought, and missed the arrival of a literal angel.”

“Oh come on, I didn't know it was expired!”

“Shut the fuck up, guys—there,” Taehyun said, chin nudging toward the middle of the class. “Tall. Center row. Reading.”

And there he was.

A guy with soft, pearly skin and cheeks like they were carved out of tteok. Tall and slender, black glasses perched neatly on his nose, eyes locked on a book while he picked politely at his lunch, rolled kimbap. Lips plush and pouty, a soft curve to his jaw. He even chewed prettily, damn it.

Taehyun slung an arm around both Yeonjun and Wooyoung. “Choi Soobin. Moved from Pohang. Rich. Rumor has it, his father is a director at a company. Big house in Gangnam. Parents travel to Europe often. Wears loafers with real gold bits. Full deal. I’m telling you, he's straight out of a TV drama.”

Wooyoung nodded rhythmically, whistling just a little loud, enough for just them to hear. “Agreed, definitely a whole other level than us.”

Yeonjun grinned, almost painfully charming. “Damn it, if only I was in that class.”

“If only you weren’t a player and a slacker, and got in 3-6,” Wooyoung quipped, poking him in the side. “Maybe then you'd get placed with the pretty geniuses.”

“Shut up.”

Yeonjun continued eyeing the classroom, full of pretty, bright-eyed model students. 3-1 really was the elite class. The kind of kids who got full marks, while at the same time joining various competitions, whether it'd be sports or musical, and somehow still had flawless skin despite the heat.

Except.

One student didn’t fit that description.

Sitting in the very back, limbs sprawled out like he didn’t give a damn—but he did, the reason he was in this class to begin with—was a boy whose uniform looked like it had survived a typhoon. Hair fell over his forehead in messy strands. Bandages wrapped carelessly around one hand, one over his cheek, and another white, thin one just across the bridge of his nose. His blazer was slung over the chair. His expression? Cold-blooded. Lethal.

Beomgyu.

And he was staring straight at Yeonjun.

Again.

Yeonjun groaned, recoiling back like he’d seen a ghost, brushing his face. “Ugh. Why is he staring at me again? I swear, it’s like I owe him money.”

Wooyoung and Taehyun leaned in to check—and instantly burst into laughter. Taehyun even snorted.

“Oh, come on,” Wooyoung grinned. “Did you forget? Mad dog has the biggest crush on you.”

Right. That.

The leader of Bupyeong Titan, Mad dog—infamous for street fights, rage-fueled battles, and terrifying glares—had a very not-so-secret crush on Choi Yeonjun. It has been going on for a year now. Maybe more. No one really knew when it started. One day, Beomgyu just walked up to Yeonjun and said:

“Choi Yeonjun, I like you. Go out with me.”

And then did it again. And again. Every week. Like clockwork.

Sometimes with chocolate. Sometimes red bean buns. Sometimes... nothing but that same blunt, unreadable voice. Never sweet. Never soft. Just direct.

Of course, Yeonjun turned him down every single time.

But well, that didn’t stop Beomgyu.

Yeonjun risked another peek. Beomgyu had returned to his lunch—now aggressively biting into a piece of fried chicken like he meant to commit murder. There was something terrifyingly focused about the way he chewed.

Yeonjun winced. “I swear, I feel like he’s imagining me as the chicken.”

“Or boyfriend,” Taehyun teased.

Yeonjun scoffed. “Boyfriend? He looks like he wants to kill me, not go out with me.”

“Oh don't blame him, boy's probably jealous that you're looking at someone else~”

Whatever.

He turned back to the class, eyes drifting once again to the soft glow of Choi Soobin. A living painting. A walking romance drama’s main character. And no bandages in sight.

Yeonjun sighed dramatically, before walking away. 

“Choi Soobin... you're mine~”

And Beomgyu, on the other hand, wasn't thrilled. At all.

Yeonjun, leaning by the window, starry-eyed over the new kid? Really?

It left a bitter taste in Beomgyu’s mouth.

Yeonjun had practically dated half the school by now, or even half of the town—not officially, no. He never used the word “girlfriend” or “boyfriend” so far. He just knew how to smile at the right time, knew how to make someone’s heart skip a beat, how to let them hope for something before gently, almost sweetly, stepping away.

But with Beomgyu? He’d never even tried. Never spared him that kind of look. Never gave him even half of that soft attention.

Which hurt. Because Beomgyu liked him. A lot more than he probably should.

And he wanted to punch him or something. Ugh.

He stared down at his untouched rice, chewing the inside of his cheek as he watched Yeonjun laugh at something Taehyun said. 

Then, without much thought, Beomgyu turned to one of his boys and muttered, “Tell Yeonjun to meet me behind the school building. After class.”

The message was clear. Not a threat—never to Yeonjun. Just another shot in the dark.

His friend offered him a dumpling from their lunchbox. He shook his head. He had other things to deal with.

Like making sure Yeonjun didn’t fall for someone else.

The rest of the day passed slower than usual. Beomgyu being somewhat a model student, he did try paying attention in class still, although anyone could tell he seemed out of place today—too busy scribbling in the margins of his notebook, staring out the window, trying not to look every time he heard footsteps and laughter in the hallway.

By the time the final bell rang, the school emptied out like a draining fish tank—students spilling out in every direction, shoes squeaking against the linoleum floors, the air thick with afterschool chatter and plans for the night. Some students stayed to clean up the class according to their duty, stacking chairs and tables on one another.

Beomgyu didn’t move. He waited. Sat at his desk for a few more minutes while the noise faded. And when the room finally quieted down, leaving only very few students left, he stood, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, and made his way to the back of the school.

The sun was low—orange light casting long shadows on the concrete walls. The kind of warm glow that made everything look softer than it really was.

And Yeonjun was already there, leaning against the wall with that same casual, effortless cool he always had. Hair just a little messy, collar popped slightly, hands in his blazer pockets like he hadn’t just been summoned. Just so damn perfect.

“Again?” he called out, whining as Wooyoung and Taehyun stood behind him like curious kittens. “What is this, round twelve? Or round twelve hundred? Gonna beat me up if I don't accept you today, BG?”

Beomgyu didn’t answer right away. Just walked up slowly, letting the silence hang for a second too long. He pulled out something from the pocket of his bag, handing it to Yeonjun.

“I got a bracelet for you.” He handed it casually to Yeonjun.

A bracelet he actually made himself—every knot tied with care, every thread chosen with way too much thought. All for Yeonjun. But of course, when he gave it to him, the nerves got the best of him, and he just said he bought it. It was a dark blue string, twisted into a simple pattern, adorned with tiny stars in different shades of blue and yellow. Quiet, subtle, but still a little piece of him.

But of course, Yeonjun sighed and pushed his hand away gently.

“Please, just, buy it for someone who will accept you okay? Like Lim Jimin, for example,” Yeonjun desperately said, giving him a pout and a begging eyes.

“I told you, we're not together, he's not my boyfriend,” Beomgyu frowned. 

Lim Jimin—the leader of Blue Jaws Bupyeong, the other gang from across town, and someone Beomgyu’s gang was allied with. A guy Yeonjun wouldn’t even consider dating, not in a million years because punk was crazy as hell, straight-up unhinged. 

And worst of all? He had some kind of claim over Beomgyu, always going around calling him “his pretty boy” or whatever. Anyone even thinking of talking to Beomgyu risked getting their head kicked in.

Yeonjun just groaned yet again, crossing his arms. “And does he know that? because I bet he's going to beat me up the moment he sees me talking to you.”

“I’ll beat him up if he ever dares touch you,” At that Wooyoung shrieked, only to get a swift elbow to the ribs from Taehyun.

Beomgyu barely flinched, not caring about the other two. Yeonjun, on the other hand, sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose like he had a migraine coming on.

“BG, can I have one week of peace? Just one or two or even more? You know what my answer’s gonna be, every single time.”

“But what if it changes?” Beomgyu asked, not even hopeful—just stubborn.

“It won’t,” Yeonjun said flatly. “At least not this year. And not until you cool it with the fighting, the getting bruises every single day, the gang stuff—just everything, got it? You and that gang of yours…”

And then, he smacked Beomgyu lightly on the arm. Just like that. Out of desperation that Beomgyu would leave him alone, at least for this week and the next one to come.

Taehyun and Wooyoung froze, jaws dropping. One of them looked ready to bolt, another turned pale. Because seriously—who just smacks the leader of Bupyeong Titan like it’s no big deal?

But Beomgyu only winced, brushing over the area he smacked. Didn’t growl, didn’t glare. In fact, his ears turned a little pink, but the expressionless face remained.

Yeah. Pretty stupid.

“Pick a lane okay, you wanna be a gangster or a top-tier student? You can’t have both,” Yeonjun said as he stretched his arms over his head. “Anyway, I’m leaving. Don't follow me back home! Or I’ll report you for following and threatening me, bye!”

And just like that, he walked off, shoulders relaxed—he was pretending—hands in his pockets, slipping right between Taehyun and Wooyoung without even glancing back.

“Y-yah Choi Yeonjun, wait for us!” They hesitated between just running and not looking back, or bowing towards Beomgyu firstly. They eventually picked the latter though, nervously greeting him before bolting away.

Beomgyu didn’t chase him. Any of them. Didn’t say a word. He just watched him walk away, before the two other boys chased after Yeonjun, yelled at him too. His eyes, though, drifted down to the old, worn-out sneakers Yeonjun always wore—frayed at the seams, the laces almost grey.

“I’ll see you soon, I’m not going to stop confessing until you accept me, Choi Yeonjun,” he muttered, voice steady, expression unreadable.

But no one—not even his gang—had any idea just how loud his heart was screaming from the brief interaction.

𖦹

Friday morning.

Yeonjun hadn’t seen Beomgyu for a while—well, he had seen him, but he tried his absolute best to avoid him and his gang completely, like they were some contagious disease. He took longer routes just to avoid walking past Beomgyu and the gang hanging out by the stairs before P.E, ran the other way whenever he spotted any of the gang members, and even sent Wooyoung and Taehyun as his spies today.

Because he had a mission.

To talk to the angel.

It was recess. As usual, some students headed to the dirt court to play basketball. And under a tree by the court, sitting quietly with a thick book in his hands, headphone around his neck, was a boy wearing glasses—reading again.

Ah, what a sight to behold.

Yeonjun charmingly made his way to the bench Soobin was seated on and sat right beside him. Soobin paid no mind, staying focused on his book.

“Hey, thought I saw an angel. Came closer, and it really is an angel.”

Yeonjun tried to start a conversation, but Soobin remained quiet for a moment before finally closing his book and turning to him.

“Who are you? Why are you talking to me?”

Oh, what a beautiful, deep voice too.

“You seemed lonely, just wanted to say hi.” Yeonjun cleared his throat, attempting to make an introduction, maybe. “Name’s Yeonjun.”

Soobin just stared at the hand extended to him, then looked back up. “You’re disturbing my reading time. Leave me alone.”

And just like that, he left. Hurting Yeonjun’s dignity.

“Oh, of course I’m not hurt. I’ll just keep talking to him until he falls for me~” Yeonjun tried to play it cool, eyes fixed on the basketball game happening nearby like he wasn’t spiraling.

Which made it even more ridiculous when the ball smacked him in the head. And again.

Twice in a row.

What a comedy sitcom.

That scene was, again, seen by Beomgyu—from the rooftop. Stupid Yeonjun, he said to himself, a box of something nice in his hand. He wouldn't give up though. He would ask him out, again and again, until the day Yeonjun eventually said yes.

“Choi Yeonjun,”

Beomgyu called out as they were on their way back after the last bell of the school rang. They were currently at one of the food vendors close by the school where students usually hung out. Beomgyu's gang sat at another table, dragging Wooyoung and Taehyun with them.

“Yah!” Yeonjun screamed, a little surprised as he was getting some food. “You scared the hell out of me. What now, BG?? Are you confessing to me outside of school too?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Yet. You were about to! Something like, ‘Go out with me’ or, ‘Let’s date,’ like you always do.” Yeonjun sighed. “And let me tell you, this isn’t love, okay? This is a threat.” He whined hard, looking down over his hand. “You have your hands in fists.”

Beomgyu loosened his fists. “I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did! You were about to punch me.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Anyway, here.” Beomgyu ignored whatever he was saying and pulled out something from his bag, and handed him the gift he got for him—the latest shoes he bought with the money he had saved for a long time. “For you.”

Oh? Yeonjun calmed down a bit, looking at the box. No way Beomgyu bought him the latest popular Converse. 

“Y-You bought me shoes?”

“Yeah. No need to accept me. I’m not confessing to you right now, I just wanted to buy them for you.”

“How do you know my size?”

“I broke into your house and measured your foot while you were sleeping.”

No, Beomgyu had actually checked his sandals from when Yeonjun came early to school, and also looked at his old shoes in the shoe locker. He noticed Yeonjun had filled the front of the soles with some paper, indicating they were too big for him—so he just assumed what size might fit, and hoped he got it right.

“You crazy ass—so they’re really for me? I’m going to accept this. Is that okay?”

“Yeah. Enjoy.” Beomgyu watched, amused as Yeonjun excitedly tried them on as they sat down at a table. And surprisingly, they fit Yeonjun very well.

“Wahhhh~” Yeonjun cheered happily, stood up, jogged in place, ran a circle around the table, and ended it with a pose, crossing his arms. “How do I look?”

Beomgyu simply nodded, holding in a smile. “The shoes look good on you.”

“I appreciate it. We’re friends now, BG~” Yeonjun grinned.

Until he felt an arm wrap around him.

“Who said anything about being friends?”

That voice alone made Yeonjun shiver, while Beomgyu rolled his eyes.

Lim Jimin. Blue Jaws gang leader. The one feared by everyone because of his cruelty. Unlike Beomgyu, Jimin’s gang actually threatened everyone they liked—something Beomgyu hated. He often saved people Jimin targeted, which was one reason Jimin had been relatively mild lately.

But not when it came to Yeonjun.

“Jimin, get off him,” Beomgyu glared.

“Okay, okay.” Jimin chuckled, letting go of Yeonjun, although he kept his sharp gaze fixed on him. “Beomgyu definitely bought it for me, didn’t you? Ah, that’s so sweet~”

Beomgyu stood up, giving Jimin another look. But Jimin didn’t care. He grabbed Yeonjun’s shirt tightly.

“Get those shoes off you.”

“W-What?”

“The shoes,” Jimin repeated, his voice low and threatening. “Give them to me.”

Yeonjun didn’t waste any time. He quickly removed them and handed them to Jimin, who shoved his feet in even though they didn’t fit well.

“Perfect, I love it! Thanks, Gyu-yah~” He ruffled Beomgyu’s hair, and Beomgyu just sighed. Screw this man, honestly. He turned to look at Yeonjun instead, giving him a guilty look.

“A-Ah, of course it’s for you! I was just asked to test it for you. Thank you and enjoy your day, Jimin-ssi!” 

Yeonjun bowed and immediately ran off, nearly tripping over his old, broken shoes.

While Beomgyu couldn't do anything, just stared. Like a coward.

“What’re you waiting for, pretty? We’ve got kids to beat up. Some punks from Yeongsan are bothering my kids again,” Jimin said, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he walked. 

And Beomgyu just followed, thinking of how to retrieve those damn shoes back.

Yeonjun, though? He was scared shitless by Jimin—but he kept his cool. Because tomorrow, he would be seeing the angel, his angel again. Make a move. Say something clever. Befriend him perhaps.

Screw Beomgyu. Whatever. He could go play gangster with his silly Blue Jaws boss or whatever. He could come to school bruised on the arms, face, lips—didn’t matter. Not like Yeonjun was paying attention.

Ugh, not like he cared.

Not at all.

𖦹

Yeonjun didn’t do anything. Not for two weeks.

He just watched.

From the window of his class, from the corridor, from the side of the building while pretending to tie his shoes. Always catching a glimpse of Soobin under the same bench, beneath the same tree, flipping through different books every day.  

(Seriously, how was it humanly possible to finish a thick novel in one day and move on to another the next?)

He had tried, really. Tried to say something. Tried to speak. But every time he stumbled upon Soobin in person, that soft-spoken angel, the words just swam back down into his throat, drowning in nerves.

Once, on a rainy afternoon, Yeonjun even waited ten full minutes after the final bell rang—just in case Soobin stepped out of the library late, like always. Maybe then he could offer to walk him to the bus stop. Share his umbrella. Say… something.

But Soobin walked straight out and into a car without sparing a glance.

Fuck.

And just like that, the umbrella went to Beomgyu instead—who showed up a moment later, soaked from head to toe, wearing the expression of a kicked puppy. Probably came from the rooftop again, picking fights or protecting the innocent people on the streets or whatever it was Beomgyu did when he disappeared during breaks.

Annoying.

Still, Yeonjun sighed and shoved the umbrella toward him. He wasn’t about to let the guy melt in the rain.

Anyway, that was his mission now. Operation: Get Soobin to Talk to Him. 

Even if it meant taking the longest route back from the bathroom just to pass by Soobin’s classroom, peeking through the door to see him quietly eating from that ridiculously fancy-looking lunchbox. Always alone. Always reading. Sometimes writing.

How could a person be so damn dreamy?

He even started timing his pace to match Soobin. Not following exactly—he wasn’t that creepy—but just… admiring from a distance, watching how Soobin read while walking. Like, actively reading. One of these days he was going to walk straight into a wall like that, or bump into someone.

But then—

Soobin stopped.

Closed his book mid-chapter.

Turned around.

And walked straight up to Yeonjun.

Shit.

"You know," Soobin said, arms crossed, "if you have something to say, just say it. The whole following-me-around thing is getting kinda boring."

Yeonjun froze. “I—I wasn’t following—”

“Are you trying to be a creep?”

“Wha—No! I was just walking!” He scrambled. “Maybe... we’re fated to be soulmates if we keep bumping into each other like this~”

“I was walking in circles, going from the second floor to this floor, three times already,” Soobin deadpanned. “If you didn’t notice.”

Oh.

“Well…”

“You want to be my friend that badly, huh?” Soobin gave him a suspiciously innocent look, adjusting his glasses. “Chase after me, then~”

Yeonjun blinked. Then smirked. Finally—finally—some progress.

“What do you mean ‘chase after you’? Thought this was a cheeky, love-sappy drama?”

“Look who’s talking,” Soobin scoffed, stepping closer, “when you’re the one following me around like a kitten begging for food and head rubs.”

“Maybe I am a kitten begging for food and head rubs,” Yeonjun said, tilting his head and pushing a hand through his hair, teasing.

And Soobin… laughed.

Holy shit. He made Soobin laugh.

“You’re funny,” Soobin grinned. “It’s lunch time. Come to my class, let’s eat together.”

Yeonjun’s brain short-circuited. He had completely forgotten about buying drinks from the vending machine—a dumb errand he owed to Wooyoung and Taehyun after losing a bet about when he'd finally get Soobin to talk to him.

Well. He definitely just won.

He followed Soobin into Class 3-1, pulling a chair over to sit directly across from him. Soobin pulled out a pristine three-tiered lunch box filled with rice and an array of fancy-looking side dishes—and offered to share.

Yeonjun swore he was the luckiest man alive.

He forgot everything else. Forgot the failed attempts. Forgot the nerves. Forgot about his friends—

And forgot about Beomgyu.

Who sat quietly at the back of the class, eyes flicking up from behind his bangs to watch Yeonjun and Soobin smiling, laughing, eating together like they were in a world of their own.

Beomgyu—jealous and pissed—stood up suddenly, muttered something about going to the bathroom, and left the room. But not before glancing once more, peeking in through the window on his way out.

Yeonjun didn’t see him.

But Soobin did.

While he pushed his chopsticks toward Yeonjun and offered a piece of sweetened egg, Soobin’s gaze flicked toward the hallway window, his expression unreadable—until the faintest glint appeared in his eyes.

And a smirk.

Barely there.

Thrown straight toward Beomgyu, as he quickly left, thinking about it.

Oh? 

Interesting.

“Anyway, Yeonjun-ssi,” Soobin turned to him with a smile, eyes shining with mischief. “Why do you always stare at me? Do you like doing that? Or do you stare at everyone like that?”

Yeonjun nearly choked on his food. Soobin, without missing a beat, slid his water bottle over to him.

Damn.

“A-ah, well—uh, I mean,” Yeonjun stammered, “You seemed kind of... lonely? Like you didn’t have any friends, so I thought maybe I’d try to befriend you. Y’know?”

“Really? That’s quite kind of you,” Soobin said, tilting his head. “Though I have heard a few rumors about you.”

Yeonjun blinked. “O-oh? Like what?”

“You've dated half the school and broken even more hearts,” Soobin replied casually, sipping his drink. “Is that true?”

Yeonjun let out a dramatic scoff. “What—no! Those are just rumors! Baseless, ridiculous rumors. Please don’t think I’m weird.”

Soobin rested his chin on his palm, watching him intently with that annoyingly adorable smile, his dimple making a deadly appearance. Yeonjun’s stomach flipped.

“Haha, no worries,” Soobin said sweetly. “Rumors aren’t real unless there’s actual proof, right? You’re safe—I haven’t seen any evidence~”

Yeonjun could only grin, a little too guilty.

“But I can see why people would think that. You’ve got the look,” Soobin added, eyes scanning Yeonjun’s face. “You’re handsome.”

Yeonjun blinked. “You think I’m handsome?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” Soobin chuckled, leaning back, still smiling like ethereal being. Like an angel who fell from heaven, forgot everything, but somehow kept all the charm and grace.

So unlike someone Yeonjun was trying really hard not to think about right now.

As Soobin finished the last bites of his lunch, he nudged the lunchbox toward Yeonjun. “Want more? Also... we should hang out more. I’ve seen you with your friends—I’d like to get to know them too.”

Was this a dream? Did Yeonjun save a village in a past life?

“Of course! That’d be great. You can tag along with us anytime—we can have lunch in the cafeteria, my class, here, anywhere you like!”

“Sounds lovely~ You can always come to my class. I’m sure no one would mind, hehe~ It’s nice befriending you, Yeonjun-ssi.”

“Hey, just Yeonjun is fine.”

“Yeonjun? Hmm... okay. Then Yeonjun-ah. Or... Yeonjunnie?”

Yeonjun nearly passed out right there.

“Anything you call me, Soobinie, I’ll accept it.”

“Soobinie?” Soobin chuckled again. “That’s cute. You’re cute.”

Yeonjun laughed, unable to help himself. What a day. He was already imagining Wooyoung and Taehyun’s shocked faces when he told them about this.

“You’re cuter. I’ll get going—class is about to start. Next time, lunch is on me.”

“Okay, Yeonjun-ah. Bye!”

Yeonjun waved and jogged out of the classroom, practically skipping down the hallway. He even punched the air with a stupid grin on his face. He did it. After two weeks of being a total coward, he’d finally talked to Soobin—and somehow, Soobin wanted to be friends. Or more?

He should give himself a pat on the back. Maybe thank the heavens, too, for sending him an angel like Soobin.

But as he disappeared down the corridor, he didn’t see the small smirk tug at Soobin’s lips.

Because Soobin had a mission.

One no one else knew.

Only him.

𖦹

Beomgyu didn’t go back to class right away.

He watched Yeonjun leave, still grinning like he’d just won the lottery. And Soobin, left behind, smiling just as sweetly—too sweetly, maybe. Beomgyu leaned against the wall, his knuckles pressed to the glass window as he stared through the slit, watching Soobin pack up his things neatly, humming to himself.

There was something off.

That smile didn’t reach his eyes. That wasn’t how someone looked at someone they just met.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, forcing himself to turn away.

Later that afternoon, rain had dried off from the pavement, and the sky turned into a warm gold as the sun peeked back out. Beomgyu walked side by side with Kai, their steps falling into rhythm on the cracked sidewalk. Neither of them said anything for a moment. Beomgyu’s hands were shoved deep into his jacket pockets, his shoulders tense.

“You good?” Kai asked, finally, not looking at him. “You’ve been weirdly quiet since lunch.”

Beomgyu sighed, not answering immediately.

“It’s Soobin, huh?”

Beomgyu shot him a look. “How’d you guess?”

Kai shrugged. “You only make that face when something’s messing with your head. And you’ve been staring at him for days. Not in a Yeonjun way. More like... a wolf staring at something it can’t figure out.”

Beomgyu didn’t laugh. He kicked a rock forward with the toe of his shoe.

“He’s weird. Too perfect. Like... I don't know, an actor stuck in his role. You ever get that feeling, like someone’s being polite, but underneath it, there’s something really twisted?”

Kai glanced at him now, slower this time. “You think he’s faking it?”

“I don’t know,” Beomgyu muttered. “But I don’t like the way he looked at me today, smirked even. Like he was challenging me without saying anything. You know how good my instinct is.”

“How good my instinct is, huh?” Kai mimicked, slightly grinning. “Maybe you’re just jealous.”

Beomgyu rolled his eyes, nudging him hard. “Not the point.”

“Fine fine, so, what is it?"

Beomgyu didn't know either. So he just sighed.

“Do you think Soobin knew I like Yeonjun? That he's trying to challenge me—like it’s some game to see who gets him first?”

“He knew? Yeah, that’s possible. Hell, the whole school probably knows but no one dares to say anything. As for challenging you… I’m not sure yet. I’ll need to watch him a little longer.”

They walked in silence again for a while, the cool evening air pressing down on them. Beomgyu couldn’t stop the war in his head. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Maybe he was just scared—scared that Yeonjun would end up with someone else.

What was he supposed to do? Start wearing glasses like Soobin? Bury himself in novels too? Try to become someone he’s not?

He had no idea.

Eventually, Kai nudged him gently, waking him up from his thoughts. “You know you’re welcome to crash at my place tonight if you don’t feel like going back, and being alone.”

Beomgyu nodded, grateful. His rented room always felt colder after days like this.

“Think you can help me find something out about Soobin?” Beomgyu then asked, glancing over at Kai as they turned into a quieter street. “Where was he from again? Pohang, right? Rich family?”

Kai raised an eyebrow. “You want me to do a background check? That’s not exactly easy, especially if he’s not originally from Bupyeong. And I’m not exactly a cop, not planning to be one either.”

“But it’s possible, right?”

“With time? Yeah, maybe. I can try. Might have to reach out to some of the other alliance crews. If he’s ever been in any fights or major events involving gangs or school disciplinary record, someone would know something.”

Beomgyu let out a long breath through his nose, eyes narrowing at the sidewalk ahead.  

Truth be told, this wasn’t just about instinct. He hated himself a little for it, knowing maybe part of it was jealousy.  

He hated how easily Soobin made Yeonjun laugh—how effortlessly he earned that dumb, wide smile that Beomgyu had only ever seen from afar. A smile he always figured was reserved for Yeonjun’s inner circle, the kind of people Beomgyu never got to be.

And still, underneath all that, Beomgyu couldn’t shake off that heavy gut feeling. Something about Soobin didn’t sit right. Something about him felt... rehearsed. Hollow, like a puppet mimicking affection with perfect precision.

He just wanted to be sure. Wanted to protect Yeonjun, even if it meant digging through dirt that might not exist.

Even if it meant Yeonjun would never look his way.

𖦹

It had been a week.

A week since Yeonjun started having lunch with Soobin like it was the most normal thing in the world. A week since he started smiling at someone else the way he used to glance over at some other unimportant boys between classes that Beomgyu didn't care about, knowing it wasn't exactly a real relationship.

Also a week of Beomgyu trying not to care.

But whatever.

He still cared.

So he decided he’d try talking one more time. With Yeonjun. Just once. Just… properly.

He scribbled a note during break and stuffed it into Yeonjun’s shoe locker before he could regret. "Are you free after school? Meet me at your hideout spot. The old gym roof. I want to talk. Come, please."

He didn’t even sign it. And waited there, earlier.

The air was cooler than usual as the sun dipped low, casting orange across the back of the old gym. Beomgyu sat on the edge of the roof above the old gymnasium, kicking his legs, nervously fiddling with the hem of his shirt, trying not to look at the horizon every three seconds.

He kept glancing down the ladder. Still no sign of Yeonjun anywhere.

He glanced over his watch, 5:53 P.M, he had waited for an hour by now, and he refused to believe he was ditched or ignored.

Until he heard the creek from the ladder, and his heart stopped for a second.

Then, he saw the familiar mop of wavy hair.

“...You're not Yeonjun,” Beomgyu muttered the moment Wooyoung’s head popped through the door, messy hair and that stupid grin. 

“Well, hello to you too, sunshine.” Wooyoung stepped out, stretching like it was his rooftop.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Yeonjun couldn’t come,” Wooyoung shrugged, hands in his pockets. “Said he was busy. So, naturally, he sent his most charming, lovable friend to check on you.”

Beomgyu frowned. “Charming my ass.”

Wooyoung tilted his head. “Y’know… you’re kinda cute when you’re mad.”

Beomgyu’s face stayed cold.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m serious! If Yeonjun doesn’t want you, can I have you instead? Please…? Maybe the universe is telling you something—maybe it's saying to give someone else a chance?”

Beomgyu blinked slowly. “What the fuck?”

“I mean, it’s a waste! You look like you walked out of one of those Japanese teen drama manga, with all that mysterious brooding. You're pretty, a little moody too, my type.”

“You’re seriously trying to flirt with me right now?”

Wooyoung put a hand on his chest. “Can you blame me? You’ve got the whole tragic bad boy thing going on. You even wrote a secret cute note for Yeonjun to meet up here.”

Beomgyu didn’t answer.

“Besides, if Yeonjun is still being a coward, I wouldn't mind hitting anytime!”

Huh?

“What do you mean by Yeonjun being a coward?” Beomgyu narrowed his eyes. 

“Whoops!” Wooyoung covered his mouth. “I mean generally, it didn't mean anything!”

But Beomgyu didn't buy it.

Wooyoung stepped a little closer, however, all grins and glitter in his eyes. “Come on, one date. I’ll buy you ramyeon, patch up your bruises, let you cry on my shoulder after fights, wouldn't it be nice? I wouldn't even care if you're a gang leader, totally my type, I like them a little rough—”

Before he could finish that stupid sentence, Beomgyu’s foot landed straight against his shin, making him yelp and stumble backwards with a dramatic thud.

“OW—what the hell?! That was a love confession, you psycho!” Wooyung screamed dramatically, clutching his legs. “I’m too young to die! Help me! I want to have children!”

“You talk too much, stop being annoying”

Beomgyu scoffed, already stomping away, his mood completely ruined. Behind him, Wooyoung lay sprawled on the cracked rooftop, groaning like he’d just been hit by a truck.

“You’re gonna regret this when you realize how good I look in leather jackets!” Wooyoung yelled after him, voice cracking as he sat up. “I’m serious though! Think about it!”

Beomgyu didn’t look back.

𖦹

It was late by the time Beomgyu finished cleaning around the restaurant.

He wiped the last table and folded it up, dragging the cloth half-heartedly before tossing it onto the counter. He exhaled, feeling the sweat on his temple as he checked his arm—some band aids were peeling off. He needed to change them. Maybe grab a new pack on the way home. Or ask the ahjussi and ahjumma if they had any left in their medicine drawer.

He was always grateful they let him work here. The pay wasn’t much, but it was enough. Just enough to pay rent, get food, and keep going. Restaurant work felt familiar anyway. His mom owned one back in Daegu. It was in his blood, maybe.

He stepped out with two trash bags to end his whole shift for tonight, heading for the bins near the back alley. 

But he stopped.

Right by the intersection, under the streetlight that blinked now and then like it couldn’t decide if it wanted to stay on—

There they were.

Yeonjun and Soobin, walking together. Slowly. Casually. Like they had nowhere else to be. Soobin said something and laughed. Yeonjun responded, smiling so wide his eyes crinkled up, and they both looked like they belonged in one of those romance movie posters you see outside theaters.

Beomgyu didn’t even notice he was holding his breath. “Fucking hell…”

They were sharing snacks—maybe tteokbokki or fish cake skewers. Something simple, but it looked too perfect. The kind of moment you’d catch in a movie.

Yeonjun looked good. Tucked-in brown shirt, baggy jeans. That soft, clean look that made people turn their heads without meaning to. Ugly shoes though. And Soobin? Well. He always looked like a model. The kind that didn’t even need to try.

Beomgyu glanced down at himself. Old shorts. Slightly dirty white shirt. Sandals falling apart. His hair tied up messily, forehead glistening with sweat. His shirt clung to his back from the heat of the kitchen.

Yeah.

No wonder Yeonjun didn’t show up.

He had a date tonight.

Beomgyu didn’t say anything. Just stood there for a second too long, before turning down the nearest street without looking back.

Damn it.

Behind him, Yeonjun slowed down a little, lips pressing together. Guilty. Soobin watched Beomgyu disappear with a curious look on his face, and a hint of satisfaction that no one noticed.

“That was Choi Beomgyu, right? From my class? What did people call him again… Mad Dog?”

Yeonjun hesitated. “...Yeah.”

Soobin hummed, still looking ahead. “You remember those rumors I told you I heard?” He chewed on his food for a while, before speaking up again. “Some of them were about him too.”

Yeonjun turned slightly, clearly piqued. “Oh? What kind of rumors?”

“That he likes you,” Soobin said casually, wiping his lips then. “Heard he confessed to you every now and then. Giving you this and that. And you rejected him all the time ‘cause he’s just some gang kid with no future.”

Yeonjun frowned a little.

The comment—it rubbed him the wrong way. He didn’t really know why. He didn't care, after all, about Beomgyu.

Okay, sure, sometimes he wondered what the hell Beomgyu was doing—why he was always getting into fights, always showing up with new bruises, why he looked so tired all the time. But… still.

To say he had no future?

That didn’t sound right.

“Hey, I never said that,” Yeonjun muttered, clearly disturbed by that comment, but he didn't show it. Instead, he defended himself, not wanting his angel to know anything. “Anyway, it’s just some dumb rumor okay, doesn’t mean anything. No one likes anyone. And—he’s got a boyfriend, remember? So that rumor is not true.”

“Oh?” Soobin raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he tapped his finger on it. “Huh. Must’ve gotten the wrong idea, then!”

“Exactly, don't say something scary like that, he's not into me. And I’m, not into him.”

There was a small pause between them.

Then Soobin chuckled. “Though… I don’t know. The way he looked at you earlier? Didn’t really look like love, if the rumors were true. Maybe he’s just bored. Or maybe he’s into you for your body or something.”

Yeonjun let out a weak laugh, but it didn’t sound genuine.

“Nah,” he said quietly. “BG’s never been like that. He’s never… crossed the line. Not even once.”

He didn’t say it out loud, but the thought came anyway.

Beomgyu had been a lot of things. Rough. Loud. Sometimes annoying.

But never anything insincere.

He still remembered the shoes. Or any other things, for that matter. The food he got for him (Beomgyu woke up early to cook it), that damn childish bracelet he bought which he shouldn't have turned down (Beomgyu bought a bracelet kit and stayed up all night making it). The look in Beomgyu’s eyes earlier. Pained. Like he actually cared.

Truly, the comment from Soobin shouldn’t bother him. It wasn't even aimed towards him, but Beomgyu.

But it did.

Still, he waved it off with a shake of his head, smiling as he threw away the now empty cup of food. “Let’s just drop it, yeah, don’t feel like talking about him anyway.”

Soobin nodded, then nudged his arm, oblivious and unaware of Yeonjun's indifferent feeling now. “Alright. So… you're gonna pick me up tomorrow and go to school together?”

Yeonjun smiled again, this time a little more genuine. “Yeah. With my bicycle. Thought we could take the long way—pass the paddy fields.”

“Oh? Look at you planning detours.” Soobin grinned. “I’ll trust your taste then. Deal!”

Beomgyu, from afar, hidden in the alleyway, watched as Soobin wrapped his arms around Yeonjun's. Something about it felt like it was on purpose, made to be seen by Beomgyu.

Choi Soobin. He will find out about him.

Chapter Text

Beomgyu liked Yeonjun.

And if you were to ask Beomgyu, when did it all begin?

Beomgyu didn't know himself. Not the exact moment, not the place, not the specific scene that made him so infatuated with Yeonjun—that made him sometimes stare off in class, only to realize he’d unconsciously scribbled Yeonjun’s name across the corner of his notebook. 

That made him confess—again and again—without shame.

Before he knew it, he was already in too deep.  

Deep in the trench.  

Deep in love with him.

It was a long time ago, better said. Some time in middle school, back when they were still considered friends. Not quite best friends, maybe not even close friends. Childhood friends? Perhaps. 

Is it even possible for someone to fall in love with a person… and feel their heart stop at the sight of them? 

Sure—Beomgyu’s heart had raced at the smallest, silliest interactions and moments with Yeonjun. But most of the time?

It felt like everything just… paused. Like the world itself slowed down for him, for them, like his heart forgot how to beat for a second—because seeing Yeonjun brought a strange kind of peace.

Like walking through the paddy fields in the early morning mist. Like watching a white heron glide low over the water. You can feel the cold dew in the air, sense its softness brushing on your skin, but you can never quite reach it.

Like watching the night sky and spotting the brightest star—it felt so close, so warm in its glow, yet impossibly far. No matter how far you stretched your hand, you would never be able to reach it.

That was what it felt like, liking Yeonjun. 

Close, familiar, always there in front of him—but still out of reach. A kind of yearning that sat quietly in his chest, never loud, never dramatic—just always there. Steady and aching.

And while he always believed he could confess whenever he wanted—this time, though… It felt like that morning mist, the bright star, would finally disappear completely. That it would drift away to somewhere else.

To someone else.

It was a normal morning, just another usual day at school. But for some reason, Beomgyu didn’t feel like going. Call it a hunch—or maybe he was a lowkey shaman—but something told him today wouldn’t go great for him.

He thought about skipping, maybe heading up to the rooftop instead, shove his MP3 into his ears and daydream the hours away, far from teachers, loud hallways, and people who talked too much.

Then his ears caught something—like a dog hearing a sound no one else could.

“Did you hear? I think Yeonjun’s dating that new kid from Pohang.”

Beomgyu froze mid-step. He hadn’t meant to overhear, but it was hard not to when the hallway chatter practically echoed off the worn-out linoleum floors. Still, he kept walking slowly, eyes straight ahead, like the words didn’t land square in his chest.

“Seriously? Man, that's crazy, but honestly what’s new?”

“Yeah, they showed up to school together. On a bicycle, no less. Acting all sweet, like one of those radio dramas you enjoy.”

“Do you think Yeonjun actually means it this time, though?”

“Pfft, who knows? But if he’s smart, he’d hang onto Soobin, after all that kid’s loaded! His dad owns a construction company or something and if you marry him, boom—secured future.”

“You’re right, Yeonjun lucky as hell, I’m telling you—but someone should check on Mad Dog, he’s probably chewing rocks in the back again. Take a hint, honestly.”

Beomgyu stopped walking. He turned slowly toward the last speaker, and the guy’s face drained of all color.

“Oh crap—he’s right there,” one of them whispered.

But Beomgyu didn’t say a word. He just looked away and walked off, headed toward his class like nothing happened. He clenched his fists in his pockets, though.

Fuck.

As he neared the door, of course it was a scene he didn't really want to see so early.

There they were—Yeonjun and Soobin.

Yeonjun was leaning on Soobin’s desk, laughing at something that probably wasn’t even funny. Soobin smiled back, laughing sometimes as well, flipping through a textbook like he hadn’t just stolen Beomgyu’s sanity, teaching something to Yeonjun.

Double fuck.

Beomgyu paused at the door, not ready to walk in just yet.

From behind him, he heard familiar voices—Wooyoung and Taehyun, loitering near the windows, talking a little too loud for a secret.

“I’m telling you, Beomgyu shouldn’t waste time on someone like Yeonjun, you know? People only look for what’s superficial instead of what’s real, hah… He even forgot about us,” Wooyoung shook his head. “Do I sound like a poet? I definitely do~”

Taehyun scoffed. “I’d make a better poet, listen—love shan't be forced, love shan't be pushed. Just as the puppy who cries for the fox, begging for love. Love comes naturally, like a king on the throne of his glory. Whatever happens to them, it's destiny—how’s that?”

Beomgyu sighed, standing behind them. “You two sound constipated.”

Wooyoung jumped, hands flying to his chest. Oh, shit. “Beomgyu! I—I apologize for speaking ill of you behind your back! Spare me this time—hit Taehyun instead!”

“What the hell?! But Wooyoung started it!” Taehyun protested.

Beomgyu crossed his arms, leaning against the wall as he glared at both of them.

“Both of you shut up before I actually punch someone.”

They fell quiet, though Taehyun mumbled something under his breath that Beomgyu thankfully didn’t catch.

He glanced back toward the classroom. Yeonjun’s laugh rang out again, a little louder this time, as if done on purpose to rile Beomgyu up. 

“…Can you tell him to meet me on the rooftop during lunch?” he muttered. “Alone. I need to talk. Get some closure or something.”

Wooyoung and Taehyun looked at each other like someone had just handed them the juiciest gossip.

“And don’t even think about hiding behind the water tank to listen in.”

Both looked down, and Beomgyu could literally see them having puppy ears, plopping down. What the hell. “Anyway, be subtle, I don’t want Soobin to know, and no more messenger shits either—if I see you again, Wooyoung, I swear I’ll lose it.”

“Message received, Captain!” Wooyoung said, saluting dramatically.

Beomgyu exhaled after he promised them some snacks for the whole pack, pushed open the back door to class, and ignored whatever flirtatious nonsense was happening in the middle of the room. He dropped into his seat and laid his head down, wishing the day to pass faster, and pretending the sound of Yeonjun’s laugh didn’t make everything worse.

Yeonjun pushed open the heavy steel rooftop door, the hinges groaning like they too didn’t want this moment to happen. His steps were just… slow, heart heavier with guilt, more than he wanted to admit. He had been avoiding Beomgyu for the whole day, feeling guilty for sending Wooyoung for his place, and running to him while he had a little date night with Soobin.

But then Taehyun and Wooyoung had shown up, faces tight with something urgent.

"Beomgyu wants to see you," they said. "On the rooftop. For closure."

The word sat uncomfortably in his chest.

Closure.

He didn’t know what he was expecting. But he knew this wasn’t going to be easy. 

Beomgyu was already there, hands resting on the tall half wall, moving his leg a bit as he hummed and looked at the view, or closed his eyes, no idea. He hadn't turned yet, as if trying to make Yeonjun even more guilty, and surely… it worked, kind of.

Yeonjun stepped closer, a small pout on his face as he scratched the back of his neck.  

“BG, I’m so sorry about yesterday… I hope you're not mad.” He tested the waters carefully, peeking. “I had plans with Soobin and sent Wooyoung to tell you.”

No answer. No movement. Just silence.

“Did… did Wooyoung tell you?” he tried again. “I hope he did and you didn't wait for me—”

Beomgyu finally turned around, a dark frown plastered across his face. 

“He didn’t, he fucking asked me out instead.”

Yeonjun’s eyes widened. 

“What are you talking about???” he blurted, nearly shouting—but Beomgyu’s glare made him quickly lower his voice. “Wooyoung… asked you out?? How?? Why???”

Beomgyu didn’t answer that, just crossing his arms and rolling his eyes, changing the subject. “That aside,” he started. “You’re with that rich Pohang guy now?”

“He has a name. It’s Soobin. Call him properly—” Yeonjun sighed. “And no, at least not yet, planning to ask him out soon~”

As if Yeonjun hadn’t been calling Beomgyu by some random nickname he came up with from his initial, all this time.

But ouch. 

So, Yeonjun really planned to ask Soobin out properly? 

“Whatever. Ugly name for an ugly guy anyway.”

“Rude??” Yeonjun glared at him sharply, before humming. “Hah… of course, you just don’t get it, you know? Soobin is like… an angel, like he fell from heaven or something. I swear, he’s literally an angel.”

“You really have no conscience,” Beomgyu muttered, rolling his eyes once more. “How could you say all of this to me?”

Yeonjun rubbed his temples, sighing. Of course, he didn't mean it that way, he just wanted Beomgyu to know, and understand that he met the love of his life. “I just want you to understand, look… I’m sorry, okay? Soobin’s someone I like, and you, BG… I want you to go find someone better, okay?”

“After everything I gave you… this is your answer? You jackass.”

“Hey! I didn’t ask for any of that!” Yeonjun clicked his tongue, raising his hands. “In fact, I haven’t taken anything from you lately, not the bracelet you offered, and also Jimin got the shoes.”

Beomgyu was quiet for a moment, and Yeonjun just stared at him, wondering if he had hurt him, wondering if he understood, wondering if he would be confessing again.

Surprisingly, the gang leader just sighed softly, shoved his hands into his pockets, looked down at his shoes, kicking a small piece of crumbling cement.

“Fine, you do you.”

It didn’t sound convincing, so Yeonjun pouted. “…Are you… are you still mad?”

Beomgyu said nothing at all, which sent Yeonjun into the highest point of anxiety (he had no idea why he was even scared, as if Beomgyu was his partner whose feelings he needed to worry about). Then suddenly, he kicked Yeonjun’s leg, sending him stumbling and slow-falling to the ground dramatically.

“Hell yes, I am mad!”

“That’s so unnecessary, what the fuck!”

“That’s for rejecting me,” Beomgyu snapped. Then another kick. “And that’s for sending Wooyoung as a damn messenger instead of telling me directly!”

“Come on! I’m sorry!” Yeonjun winced, holding onto his leg as he hopped with the other, and Beomgyu just turned his back against him, watching the view again, his hands in fist.

“Leave before I kick you again, or punch you, even better.”

“If you keep that up, you’ll never get a boyfriend!”

“Shut up!”

Yeonjun left with a frown on his face, and Beomgyu sighed, running his fingers harshly through his hair. He hated that Yeonjun had come to apologize—because, as usual, he knew he’d end up melting over it. Why did he even have to apologize for liking someone? Wasn’t this just like before? Like all the other times he dated someone and disappeared in less than two days?

Maybe it was his defense mechanism, rationalizing the relationships Yeonjun had in the past, to happen again, with Soobin.

Beomgyu and Yeonjun weren’t dating. Never did. They didn’t even mutually like each other—weren’t even friends. He really… didn’t owe him an explanation. 

Maybe he really had to take the hint.

He needed to move on.

“Why do I have to be so demanding and possessive like this…” Beomgyu whispered to himself, sighing again—when he suddenly heard quiet whispering nearby. As he had expected.

“Wooyoung. Taehyun. Come out.”

Silence.

“I’m going to count—one, two, three—”

The said two emerged sheepishly from behind the water tank, and Beomgyu already had his hands in fists. They only stood straight for a second—then bolted as fast as they could, as Beomgyu threw his shoe towards them.

“We’re sorry!!!”

Beomgyu hated coming to school even more, as the days went by.

He hated how he had nothing to look forward to, like everyone else. He hated how nothing interesting ever happened to him, while everyone else seemed to enjoy life, to have cool things going on.

It was the same for him, every single day: learning, studying, eating, working his ass off to earn for living, alone here in Incheon. Then, fighting alongside Jimin’s gang to save kids from getting beaten up by other gangs, getting mocked for his Mad Dog nickname—until they realized he really, indeed was a mad dog who could take them all down in just a minute.

The same thing, over and over again.

And the same damn romantic scene right in front of him.

Beomgyu turned his chair and body to face Kai, who was sitting behind him, reading some random comic he'd bought. He peeked over with a curious look, and Kai, the one who knew him the most, immediately knew to put his comic down—to listen, because something was bothering him.

"Hm? What do you want to talk about?" Kai hummed softly, and Beomgyu looked down, a little surprised at how easily he could tell.

"Well... nothing, honestly, just..." he whispered, scared anyone might overhear. "Did you find anything yet?"

For a moment, Kai looked confused, until he remembered and snapped his fingers. "What do you mean—oh! Okay, I remember. About that guy? Ah..." he trailed off, before shaking his head, smiling defeatedly. "Unfortunately, not yet. It's harder than I thought. But he’s been pretty mild, hasn’t he? No suspicious traits from him so far."

Right. Beomgyu thought about it too.

Maybe he was just too much. Maybe he was in denial way too much, so much that he decided Yeonjun was just acting like his usual self—dating around and leaving after for his own amusement, his own satisfaction.

Maybe his mind decided Soobin was a threat, and made him think Soobin had something bad hidden under the surface—just so Yeonjun wouldn’t date him.

What a loser in love.

"Yeah," Beomgyu almost chuckled to himself, picking at some dried blood on a healing bruise on his arm. "Maybe I'm just a jealous asshole, I should've taken the hint and not been so desperate for someone who doesn't like me back."

Kai stopped him from picking at the bruise—and from saying those things. He shook his head firmly.

"Hey, don't say that... I get it, okay?" he said softly. "I'll let you know if anything happens. Please cheer up, it's weird to see you like this—sad and vulnerable."

"I'm not sad. I'm okay, don't worry."

After all, it wasn’t rare for Beomgyu to have his crush fall for someone else—bringing them out for a theater date, eating ice cream afterward, going for a peaceful night walk. It happened all the time. Totally normal.

So normal.

Kai didn’t say anything back. He just patted Beomgyu’s back to comfort him, brushing his hair softly for a second before Beomgyu gently pushed his hand away, turning back to his desk and resting his head on the table, wanting to shut off all his conflicting thoughts.

When the bell rang, Beomgyu didn’t give a fuck about his cleaning punishment anymore, and just grabbed his bag and left alone this time. It was almost over anyway, according to the punishment contract that the principal had given for him. 

He walked alone to the back gate of the school—the usual shortcut home—no one stopping him.

Or so he thought, until a hand gripped his wrist.

It was a strong grip, almost enough to mistake it for Jimin—except it wasn’t. It felt different. Bigger. Stronger. It triggered his flight-or-fight instinct instantly.

"Who the fuck—"

Beomgyu nearly punched the guy with his free hand—until a second, another bigger, stronger hand caught him.

"Hey, hey! Calm down, it's me!"  

Not a familiar voice exactly, but one he'd heard plenty before.

It was Choi Soobin.

Beomgyu pushed Soobin’s hand away with a deep frown. The guy almost didn’t budge—and the tight grip left a faint mark on Beomgyu’s wrist, making him even more nervous. What could this guy possibly want from him? Why follow him to the back gate, where not even his other friends dared to do so, knowing he needed some time alone?

"What do you want? Are you following me?"

"No! No, I wanted to tell you something. Please listen to me?"

Beomgyu really wasn’t in the fucking mood for any conversation right now—especially not with the boy who had been buddy-buddy with his crush. Call him dramatic, but he couldn't help it. Although, he was quite curious, of what Soobin wanted to talk about.

"Fine. Make it quick," he said, crossing his arms.

Soobin sighed in relief, looking almost guilty—if Beomgyu was reading him right.

"I know you've been harboring hatred for me, Beomgyu-ssi," Soobin went straight to the point, attacking him with words that made Beomgyu’s eyes widen. "I've seen the way you look at me."

Huh?

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Beomgyu tried to defend himself.

But Soobin seemed to know everything. Maybe it was obvious from Beomgyu’s side after all. Oh, how screwed he was…

"I know you've been confessing to Yeonjun, I heard it from people. I asked Yeonjun, and he told me it was just rumors… but I refused to believe it—because I’ve seen the way you look at him. You care about him so much, right? I know… I know you like him."

Beomgyu wonder where this headed.

"Your point?"

"You should stop chasing after someone who doesn’t feel the same," Soobin said gently. "I know it’s hard, Beomgyu, but... you need to move on—"

Beomgyu had already clenched his fists—maybe not to punch Soobin, but close. He still had enough common sense not to randomly hit someone. But how could he not? How could he not react when Soobin stood there, blatantly telling him he should give up?

"What—"

"—Because I'm planning to date Yeonjun properly soon."

It was like someone stabbed Beomgyu right in the chest, twisting the knife deeper with every single word Soobin uttered.

He stepped back a little. Took a shaky breath. Tried to keep his composure.

Oh.

The dreaded news had finally come.

Planning to date Yeonjun soon.

Soobin and Yeonjun.

They were going to date. Very, very soon.

"I’m so sorry, Beomgyu. I really like Yeonjun—and Yeonjun likes me back. I’m really sorry... I just wanted you to know, so you can move on. So you won’t be hurt. You understand what I’m trying to say, right?"

For a moment, Beomgyu said nothing. He just stood there, his expression unreadable.

Inside, though?  

Chaos. Conflict. His common sense, his jealousy, his sadness—all of it fighting inside him at once.

"S-suit yourself. I don't care," he stammered. "Date him. He’s not my boyfriend, after all. Why would I care?"

Soobin tried to reach for him, like he meant to comfort him.

"Beomgyu… I just wanted to make sure, since you like Yeonjun—"

"Not... another word..." Beomgyu looked down, holding himself together by a thread. "Please... just shut the fuck up, stop talking about it—about Yeonjun."

Everything hurt.

Everything hurt so much, even if he didn’t want to admit it. A part of him crumbled down, and he couldn’t even end the conversation himself. He started trembling, right there—small double inhales shaking from his chest.

Why?

Just why...?

Why did it have to happen?

Why did Yeonjun want to be with Soobin? Why did Soobin have to like Yeonjun back? Why did Soobin have to come to him like this—pretending to be kind?

Why did he actually have to be nice?

All this time, Beomgyu thought Soobin was secretly an asshole—based on all the little oddities he'd seen himself. Maybe a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Maybe someone with a hidden agenda.

But it was just him. Just some guy. Just Choi Soobin. With normal feelings for someone. For Yeonjun.

It was Beomgyu's fault all along.

He was driven by jealousy. By ego. Pushing him to assume the worst. Jumping into conclusion without proper investigation. Thinking of Soobin as the evil one, when the truth was... Yeonjun just didn’t want him back, and he wanted Soobin.

"Why..." Beomgyu muttered, still staring at the ground. "Why do you have to be... nice... Why...?"

Soobin shook his head. "I'm just—"

"Just stop it!" Beomgyu suddenly screamed, startling Soobin. "I-I don't care about who Yeonjun dates, okay?! He’s always dating around, I don't fucking care! You.. You didn't have to tell me… I would’ve left him alone myself… You make me look like a desperate loser!"

"I'm really sorry... I'm sorry for liking Yeonjun... I'll leave him alone if you—"

"Date him! Do whatever you want!" Beomgyu shouted, turning away, tears already burning in his eyes. He couldn’t bear to let Soobin see him like this—so broken.

"He likes you, okay? You're the angel he wants, as he said himself, not me—never… never me. So stop... stop talking about it, I have something to do. I'm… I’m leaving."

Beomgyu walked away in a hurry, his knuckles turned all white as he squeezed his hands too hard, nails digging into his skin, the bitter squeeze in his chest unbearable—and a few clear drops slipping down his cheeks. 

Soobin was right. Everyone was right.  

Maybe he should’ve let it go after the first rejection. Maybe he should’ve taken the hint that he would never be Yeonjun’s ideal type and ideal partner. Maybe he should’ve focused on himself, instead of wasting all this time thinking about Yeonjun.

Maybe he shouldn't have done all the things he did, for love.

Because sometimes, all the things you do for love, mean absolutely nothing to the person you love.

"Hah, what a fucking bitch. Thinking he has the right to tell me what to do."

"A month left before the big test!" the class monitor wrote on the board as a reminder. It was free time— all the teachers were away at a meeting to prepare for the exams, and students sat in groups studying, some alone.

Some students from other classes even came over to study with the smarter ones — including Yeonjun, who came to study with Soobin.  

Soobin was diligently writing notes in his book, while Yeonjun was daydreaming, balancing a pencil on his pointed outlips, humming as he lazily looked around the back of the class, at the notice board, at the students sitting there—Beomgyu’s gang.

Yeonjun had been thinking about Beomgyu a lot lately, even though he really didn’t want to.

Days had passed since their last interaction, with everyone focusing more on preparing for exams. Yeonjun had been studying with Soobin, sometimes with Wooyoung and Taehyun joining them.  

Yet somehow, he couldn't help but glance toward the back of the class from time to time—toward the now often empty table.

Randomly—so randomly—he found himself thinking back to their last interaction.  

He remembered Beomgyu mentioning that Wooyoung had asked him out. That was... unexpected. He hadn’t even known Wooyoung had it in him, or what made him like Beomgyu.

Did Wooyoung find Beomgyu pretty? His sparkling eyes and long eyelashes, the cheeks often reddened under slapped-on bandages whenever he got flustered, the lips usually set in a firm line but curving up just slightly, almost imperceptibly, when he was amused—pretty?

Or was Wooyoung into someone rough? Someone who would glare at you, pull you by the collar, pin you to the wall, and somehow kiss you stupid?

...Okay, that was going way too far.

Nevertheless, it got Yeonjun thinking about Beomgyu more often—when he should’ve been focused on Soobin, the one he actually liked—and it frustrated him.

But one thing was clear.

Everything felt unusually quiet lately.

"Hey, Jun!"  

It took Yeonjun a moment to realize Soobin had been waving a hand in front of his face. 

"What were you thinking about? Me?"

Yeonjun chuckled, setting the pencil down and reaching out to pinch Soobin’s cheek.

"Yeah," he laughed softly. "And something else, actually. Is it just me, or has it been... weirdly quiet?"

Soobin tilted his head, confused. "What do you mean?"

"I… I don’t know. It’s just... weird. I'm not sure why."

Of course, Yeonjun knew exactly what he meant.

Soobin simply shrugged with an innocent pout, glancing around. "It’s probably because Wooyoung and Taehyun aren't here yet, no?"

"Hmm… I guess so."

But Yeonjun knew better.

Deep down, he knew why.

Because Beomgyu hadn’t been pestering him like he used to—dragging him to random spots like the rooftop, the abandoned gym, the big tree in the middle of the paddy field, or the food vendors by the school—confessing with that thick Daegu accent he sometimes tried (and failed) to hide, gifting him random things with a grumpy frown and a glare, as if daring him to accept it.

It got Yeonjun smiling a little. Then immediately slapping himself a little. Mentally.

In truth, Yeonjun hadn’t seen Beomgyu at all lately, even when he visited Soobin's class. Beomgyu’s seat would always be empty. 

Almost like he was doing it on purpose.

Yeonjun’s heart felt... empty.

And he didn’t even realize it.

When the back sliding door opened, Yeonjun instinctively turned, heart jumping in anticipation.

It was just Taehyun with a stack of books, and Wooyoung with papers in his hand.

Yeonjun exhaled the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

"Junnie! Soobinie~ We want to study with you guys~" Wooyoung sang as he approached.

"Ahh, there you guys are, Yeonjun was just complaining about how quiet it was without you two," Soobin teased, smiling.

Wooyoung immediately wrapped his arms around Yeonjun, trying to kiss his cheek, earning a push in protest.

"Really? How cute of him, that’s so new~" Wooyoung cooed.

Yeonjun groaned and buried his face back in his book, refusing to entertain them any further.

But in his mind, something still gnawed at him.

He needed answers.  

And he'd get them—after class.

After school, once class duty was done, Yeonjun decided to stay behind longer than usual. Soobin had left with his car; Wooyoung and Taehyun had gone ahead too. He made his way to where he knew Beomgyu’s gang usually hung out: the food vendors.

He was right.  

A few members of the gang were there—except Beomgyu.

Mustered by sheer stubbornness, Yeonjun approached. The moment he did however… several glares met him.

Shit.

"Hey, peeps… where's BG? I haven’t seen him around. Did he skip school?" He tried with a nervous tone.

Silence.

Kai sat there, swirling his chopsticks in his bowl of noodle soup, pretending Yeonjun didn’t exist. One minute turned two, turned three, turned five… 

And finally, after what felt like forever, Kai spoke up as the others moved to another table.

"Why do you ask?"

"Just… curious," Yeonjun cleared his throat. "Yeah. The test is coming up soon. I know he’s pretty studious."

Kai laughed dryly, a sound without any humor.  

"Oh, wouldn’t you like to know, YJ?" His smile dropped to a sharp glare. "Curiosity kills the cat, you know."

"Come on, Kai…"

"You should stop," Kai said, standing up, towering over him. "If you like Soobin, stop thinking about Beomgyu."

"It’s not like that... It’s just... I’m talking about him as an acquaintance."

"Drop it, Yeonjun." Kai grabbed his collar and whispered harshly, startling him. "Pick a damn side. You care about him or not? You reject him—and now you're asking about him like it’s nothing?"

Yeonjun looked down. "I... it's not like that..."

"I know." Kai let go, sitting back down. "He’s still alive and well, don’t worry. He knows how to take care of himself."

"I’m just... worried. He was one of my friends after all."

Kai scoffed in disbelief. 

"What made you think that again? Thought you were the one who left without a word."

"You don’t understand."

"And neither did Beomgyu. He never knew why you left him. You two just drifted apart—and you let it happen."

Yeonjun knew.  

Of course he knew.  

But there were things better left unsaid, for everyone's sake—including Beomgyu's.

"That doesn’t change the fact that I want to find him now."

"Suit yourself," Kai shrugged, turning back to his noodles. "He’s around. Fighting, probably. Now leave me alone."

Kai refused to say anything more, while Yeonjun left to find Beomgyu.

He wandered around for a while, even crossing through the paddy field, hoping to find Beomgyu. He had no idea why he was doing this, but a part of him pushed him to find Beomgyu, maybe have a few looks on him, making sure he was alright first thing.

Eventually, he reached an open area with a zinc roof, where the bags of wheat were stored.

And there he was.

Beomgyu, with Jimin.

Yeonjun ducked behind the stacked bags, trying to listen without being seen.

Beomgyu’s tank top was dirty at the back, his school uniform nowhere in sight — probably left behind so he wouldn’t ruin it during a fight. There were even more bandages wrapped around his arms than usual, a clear sign he had been getting into trouble again. Yeonjun couldn't see his face clearly from where he was hiding, but he could guess well enough.

Jimin still had his uniform on though. Maybe they truly had just finished a big fight, judging by their messy appearances. They sat together on a wooden bench, facing the sunset.

“What’s wrong, pretty? You’ve been on edge lately," Yeonjun heard Jimin said, dabbing the blood at the corner of Beomgyu’s mouth. "Someone bothering you? Or is the studying getting to you? You’re so diligent, after all."

Beomgyu didn’t answer immediately, just staring at the clouds.

"Nothing. Just... tired."

"Let me know if something’s bothering you, yeah? I can help, if you know what I mean," Jimin murmured, his hand brushing Beomgyu’s shoulder suspiciously.

Yeonjun frowned from his hiding spot.

Were they about to...?

But Beomgyu immediately pulled away, sighing.

"I’m not interested in that, Jimin. Just leave it."

Jimin groaned, disappointed. "Fine. But if you change your mind... I’m always here, pretty."

They fell into silence, watching the sunset.

Yeonjun decided to leave quietly after making sure Beomgyu was alright. After all, he was with Jimin, anyway. He stepped away—until his foot crunched an empty plastic bottle.

Fuck.

"Who's there?" Jimin snapped, standing up.

Yeonjun froze in place, covering his mouth, heart pounding.

Beomgyu glanced around, clearly not in the mood for another fight—or any interaction for that matter, really. He had been feeling under the weather lately, and the last thing he needed was Jimin starting something over nothing. 

Besides, he caught the sight of those damn ugly, worn-out shoes in the corner of his eye, and he figured it wasn't worth the trouble. Probably just a stray, or some kid passing by. With a sigh, he tugged Jimin back down onto the bench, letting the moment slip by.

"It’s probably just a cat. Leave it." He hummed softly. "Come here."

Beomgyu laid his head on Jimin’s shoulder, closing his eyes for a moment, seeking calm.

Although it wasn't the calm he wanted, not the person he wanted it to be from.

And Yeonjun, after witnessing that moment?

He was long gone by then.

It’s crazy to think how things used to be.  

Back then, everything felt so... simple. Before high school. Before all of this.

Back in middle school, Beomgyu’s family had lived next door to Yeonjun—though now the place had already been bulldozed. They weren’t exactly inseparable, but every day after school, the two would walk home together in a big group, slowly shrinking until it was just the two of them left, stopping at their respective houses. They’d talk about stupid things, laugh at whatever came to mind.

But to Beomgyu, Yeonjun wasn’t just a normal friend—he was like family. Even if Yeonjun only viewed him as a normal friend, for him he was like… a star shining bright, lighting the pathway ahead of them.

A friend, a long-time silly crush, too.

Until things started to change.

It was during the break before high school started.

Yeonjun’s mother left the household, her whereabouts unknown, leaving behind a heartbroken father and a confused Yeonjun. Not long after, Beomgyu’s mother also left Incheon, moving back to Daegu. 

Beomgyu ended up living alone, renting a small room above a shop lot, and it felt lonely. 

He didn’t force Yeonjun to spend time with him, knowing he was still sad about his mother’s sudden disappearance—rumors swirling that it had something to do with his father cheating, though Beomgyu never found out the truth. He had wanted to ask Yeonjun about it. But he never got the chance.

Finally, high school came. It also changed everything.

The first day, Beomgyu was so excited, nervous, but mostly excited. He couldn’t wait to meet new people, join clubs like he had wanted to so much, learn, date people, perhaps.

And most of all—he hoped he'd see Yeonjun again.  

They hadn’t talked at all during break, after all they didn’t live near each other anymore, but a part of him hoped dearly that Yeonjun had enrolled in the same school.

It took him a while to spot the familiar figure he had been looking for.

Beomgyu waved, eyes lighting up. Finally, he wouldn't be as lonely.

For a second, he thought Yeonjun would run over like he used to, grinning wide.

But he didn’t.

Yeonjun could’ve smiled. Could’ve waved. Could’ve said, “Hey, you’re here too! I missed you!” Could’ve acted like nothing had changed. After all, a month apart wasn’t long enough to forget someone... right?

But Yeonjun didn’t.

He dropped his gaze, turned away, and laughed loudly with a new group of boys like Beomgyu wasn’t even there, leaving the lone boy standing there, a little lost. New bag he had wanted to show him so badly slung over one shoulder, uniform a little wrinkled. Feeling stupid for hoping.

Beomgyu just… didn’t understand. He wasn’t sure what he did wrong. Had he hurt Yeonjun without realizing it? Was it because he hadn’t reached out during the break? He didn’t know, he wanted to ask, but couldn't bring himself too.

All he knew was that they weren’t the same anymore. The person who used to be by his side now acted like a total stranger.

Beomgyu tried to understand it. Tried to brush it off. But Yeonjun’s coldness, the eyes he had given him, stung more than he wanted to admit.

After that, things just... slipped away.

Different classes. Different friends. Different lives.

Beomgyu ended up in Class 1—the smartest class—but somehow found himself caught in a rough crowd. Boys who were sharp-tongued and too smart for their own good. Boys who could ace a math test in the morning and pick a fight behind the gym and on the rooftop after lunch.  

Brilliant and reckless, both.

And somehow, Beomgyu became one of them. Became a leader of a high school gang, even.

The innocent, soft boy from middle school slowly turned into someone teachers called into detention every other week. Skipping classes. Picking fights. Running wild with the troublemakers in school, somehow still doing well in exams.

He even gained a name. Mad Dog.

Yeonjun, on the other hand, made his own name. But again, it wasn't something morally good to do, either. Yes, he gained friends easily—the funny, nice ones.  

But somewhere along the way, maybe because of everything that happened to his family, he turned into something he hated. 

He started playing with people’s hearts like it meant nothing. From someone who used to be a little shy, he became one of the school’s infamous heartbreakers. Dating three different boys in a week, leaving them crying like it didn’t even touch him.

Both of them changed into people the other wouldn’t even recognize.

As weeks turned into months, the distance between them grew so wide it felt like they had never known each other at all. Surely, it wasn’t just time that tore them apart. It was the space between them.  

Space that Yeonjun had created, and that Beomgyu could only try to rationalize by telling himself they just... drifted.

They became different people, doing their own thing.

And while now, Beomgyu’s random, stupid crush on Yeonjun had somehow pulled them back into each other’s orbit—they could never really go back to the way things used to be.

Now, in the present, it felt like they had drifted even further apart—and, to be completely honest, Yeonjun didn’t like it.

It was easier to pretend they hadn’t known each other before high school. Easier to act like this was just how they were now, Beomgyu randomly confessing to him at the worst times, Yeonjun brushing it off with either a laugh or whine. At least this way, they still had something—a weird, unspoken dynamic where they didn’t hate each other.

It was selfish. Yeonjun knew it was selfish to feel this way, and he hated himself for it. He hated how he asked Beomgyu to stop confessing himself, but still felt the need to make sure he was okay.

Hated how he still cared, even after everything.

And later on, the night was colder than usual.

Yeonjun had changed into a thicker jacket, shoving his hands into his pockets, as he walked under the streetlights down the familiar empty road, the sound of crickets his only company, heading toward a restaurant.

Specifically, the restaurant Beomgyu worked at for a while now—the one where he also stumbled upon while on a date with Soobin—and the rented room he lived in just above it. It genuinely looked so sad from the outside, and Yeonjun felt bad for never visiting. Not even once, unfortunately.

Tonight, he was determined to talk to Beomgyu, properly.

As he got closer, he hid himself by an alleyway, for a moment just observing, in case Jimin was around. The restaurant was open, looking quiet and empty after a few drunk guys stumbled out laughing. Yeonjun wasn't sure if Beomgyu would still be around, so he waited.

Until he appeared.

Beomgyu had his hair tied up in a lazy half-ponytail, wearing a rugged shirt and shorts, stacking the chairs and tables outside to put them back in the restaurant. Goodnes, in this kind of weather, he really shouldn't have been wearing something so thin—but judging by how often he wiped sweat off his forehead, he must’ve been too hot and exhausted anyway.

Such a hardworking boy, it got him smiling proudly.

Yeonjun approached carefully, hands fiddling with something inside the pocket of his jacket, stepping inside as he looked around.

The restaurant had the kind of worn-out, quiet atmosphere where you would catch up with friends and stay too long, not noticing the time. Dull wallpaper, some old newspaper pages slapped over holes, the menu written on big yellowed sheets of paper, corners curling. A ballad Korean song played from the radio, soft and crackling.

Yeonjun could feel his hands going numb, he really didn’t come here prepared.

"Welcome, we're about to close soon," Beomgyu said as he must've heard him stepping in, not looking at him as he swept around, "but we still have some leftovers, if you want. Rice and some side dishes, or I can whip up a quick noodle soup."

His voice was warm. Too warm. The kind Yeonjun hadn't heard of in a long time. The kind he kept for people who deserved them. Not Yeonjun.

Yeonjun stood there for a while, not answering right away, just soaking in the sound, finding the voice in his throat.

"Hey… BG, it's me," he finally said, voice cracking a little. “I’m sorry for bothering you this late at night.”

Beomgyu froze for a second—recognizing the voice instantly—but then continued sweeping the floor, like nothing happened.

"Why did you come here?" he asked, colder now, and the change really sting.

"It’s just…" Yeonjun scratched the back of his neck. "I was wondering… wanted to ask if you're okay, overall."

That made Beomgyu actually laugh, bitter and sharp.

"Did Kai put you up to this?" he said, turning to look at him with a pained, almost disbelieving expression. "Because you wouldn’t do that. Asking me if I’m okay? Just stop it, and leave."

"No—no, it’s not like that!" Yeonjun protested quickly, shaking his head. "I just… I was wondering why you stopped coming to school?"

"I never stopped," Beomgyu said flatly.

Yeonjun blinked. "W-what? But I never see you… at your table, around school—"

Because Beomgyu had been avoiding him, as much as he could. Yeonjun, and Soobin alike. Even Wooyoung and Taehyun, too. He couldn't bear to stumble upon any of them, for that matter.

He studied on the rooftop during free periods, a stack of books often found by his side. Ate at odd times in the cafeteria, making sure his friends keep a lookout on Yeonjun’s presence. Hid in the library with his MP3 player on full blast. Anything, just anything to avoid bumping into him.

“I was around, you probably just never had the time to check.”

Yeonjun felt a lump form in his throat. "I… I didn’t know. I’m sorry…”

And Beomgyu hated how suddenly Yeonjun cared. How it made his chest hurt all over again.

"Now why do you even care?"

Yeonjun looked up properly, and under the harsh restaurant light, he could see everything clearer—the bandage on Beomgyu’s forehead, the scratch on his cheekbone also slapped with a bandage, the corner of his lips slightly blue, the bruises blooming along his arms, the cuts on his knuckles. 

All the scars he wished he could erase.

"You… You’ve been fighting again, more often, right?" Yeonjun said quietly, voice breaking. "You have more injuries, are you… alright?"

Beomgyu gripped the broom tighter, jaw clenching as he tried not to lash out right there. "Choi Yeonjun, I'm getting really annoyed right now, you know?" he said through gritted teeth. "Please leave me alone, I still have to clean up and close the damn restaurant."

"BG, I—"

"Seriously, can you fuck off?!"

Yeonjun flinched at the words, stepping back a little, while Beomgyu looked away, squeezing the broom even tighter, trying not to break down, as tears pooled in his eyes.

"W-what happened? Did I… do something wrong?" Yeonjun asked, heart hammering.

How could he ask that? How could he ever ask that, when Beomgyu was left to suffer alone for years, not knowing the reason why they drifted apart in the first place?

"You don't get it, do you?" Beomgyu muttered. "Why have you been following me since that day?"

Yeonjun froze. He knew exactly what Beomgyu meant.

"You… noticed?"

How could he not?  

Even if Yeonjun didn't say anything, the citrus scent of his cologne always lingered in the air after he left, and he saw those stupid ugly shoes he always wore. It's the way his presence clung to the air like an ache Beomgyu couldn’t scrub away.

Thank goodness he caught him, and not Jimin.

"Get to the point, what exactly do you want from me, Yeonjun?"

"I don't know… I just.. wanted to see you," Yeonjun said honestly, with concern on his face. "We weren’t like this, right? After we talked on the rooftop... It wasn’t like this, why… What happened?"

"Nothing happened," Beomgyu said tightly. "I'm just doing what you wanted. Not… not bothering you anymore, giving you the space you needed. You're asking Soobin out soon, right? Then, do it quick."

Yeonjun could feel the heartbreak woven into Beomgyu's words, even without him saying it outright. It was in the way his breath hitched, and the way he said Soobin’s name… Like it physically hurt him. After all, Beomgyu had never stopped trying. 

And then Soobin came along, crushing down every fragile piece of hope he had left.

Yeonjun could only feel sorry—sorry for everything, for how unfair it all was, for the way they had both been thrown into a situation they never asked for.

"BG, please—" He tried reaching out, but Beomgyu slapped his hand away.

"Don't touch me." Beomgyu took a step back, his hands trembling, his eyes glaring. "And stop calling me that—stop calling me BG."

He swallowed hard.

"Let’s just keep it how you decided way back then, Yeonjun, pretend… pretend we don’t know each other, and pretend we were never friends—to begin with."

"I’m sorry," Yeonjun whispered, voice cracking, as he felt like crying. "I have my reasons..."

Then fucking communicate, damn it.

Beomgyu said nothing anymore, just turned away, trying not to break apart. But Yeonjun moved faster—reaching into his pocket, pulling out a small item, and gently pressing it into Beomgyu’s hand.

A pack of bandaids.

Just like the ones Beomgyu used to put on Yeonjun back in middle school whenever he got a papercut. The same damn brand.

Those days? All gone now.

"Take this… please," Yeonjun muttered, almost in desperation. It was the least he could’ve done, for a coward like him. "I'm sorry... I’m truly sorry for everything I’ve done to you—I can’t bear to explain myself either… So I… I'll see you at school."

He bowed low, voice shaking, before leaving.

He turned to look at Beomgyu one last time.  

But Beomgyu didn’t look back.

Minutes passed, and Beomgyu stood alone in the empty restaurant, staring down at the bandaid packs in his hand. He didn’t know what he was supposed to feel anymore.

He held the pack and proceeded to clean up more, locked up the restaurant, and climbed up the narrow stairs to his tiny rented room. The small warm light in the room barely lit the cracked walls, and the glued-up newspapers on the windows let through slivers of the streetlights outside. The clock ticked somewhere on the wall, old and slow.

After washing up with cold water and a dipper, trying to scrub the exhaustion away, Beomgyu didn’t think about anything. 

He just lay there, tears falling without him noticing.

Eventually without warning, he broke down completely—face buried in his pillow, fists clenched in the thin white blanket, chest hurting so bad it felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

Crying harder as he glanced over at the small pack of bandaids sitting on the side table.

He hated how much he yearned.  

He yearned for everything he couldn't have at all, not anymore—the owner of those stupid ugly shoes, the boy with citrus scent clinging to the hallways, the dumbest jokester, the voice that used to anchor him in the middle of the storm. 

Yeonjun.

Beomgyu blamed fate.

Blamed destiny.  

Blamed the universe for letting him meet Choi Yeonjun, only to rip them apart from each other, so close yet so far.

Once again, his only friends were the whisper of generators outside, and the dim glow leaking through the window cracks.

He didn’t know when he fell asleep.

Farther away, under a streetlight, a boy stood alone. His glasses caught the light briefly, a glint in the dark.

He bounced a big rock on and off his palm, debating, staring up at the darkened window of Beomgyu’s room.

Thinking.  

Smiling.

Wondering if he had already done enough damage, or if he needed to do more.

Chapter Text

Yeonjun hated studying all his life.

He had always hated studying, ever since primary school. The thought of sitting at a desk with stationery and books sprawled everywhere—forcing himself to memorize the periodic table or historical figures—made his skin crawl. (Exaggerated, of course.)

Learning and studying weren’t the same for him. One came from a genuine thirst for knowledge. The other was just a means to get good grades, a spot at a decent university, and some shitty job in the end.

As much as he hated it, there were two forces that pushed him to study.

First, a round-headed boy who sat next to him in class, his hair trimmed evenly into a perfect bowl. 

Second, his beloved mother.

Once upon a time, the two forces were always with him. At home, he would be on the floor table, the round-headed boy guiding him through math's questions, while his mother would offer them snacks and laugh whenever the two bicker like kitten and puppy. Then, the round-headed boy would take him to climb a tree and sit on it for hours while discussing the future, until their mothers respectively called for them at dusk.

Those were the good times, until it wasn't.

“I’ll see you next week, Beomgyu-yah! Don’t forget—high school reveal, okay?”

“I won’t! Have a nice break, Jun!”

“You too, Gyu!”

It was already late evening, and the middle school graduates parted at the familiar fork in the road, where the narrow path split between quiet trees and a little pond that had watched them grow up. Their houses were just close yet far enough apart to feel the distance—but never too far to walk and run. As usual, they waved until they couldn’t see each other anymore.

Unfortunately, that was the last time Yeonjun had talked to Beomgyu as a friend. The last time he had ever called his name properly. The last time he ever even looked at him with the biggest smile that was properly meant for him. 

And the very last time where Beomgyu was ever his Beomgyu.

It was another one of those days—Yeonjun running around town taking whatever part-time jobs he could find before high school started. Not for himself, but because he wanted to save up for the MP3 player he noticed Beomgyu had been eyeing. They’d talked about listening to songs together after school, just hiding somewhere while writing lyrics on an unused school notebook. He was so close now—just a few more shift until he could afford one.

He came home smiling, a bag of street food swinging from his fingers, sweat still clinging to his forehead. The sun was setting, casting a soft glow through the windows of their humble home.

“Kyeong, cheer up, okay? I’ll stop by tomorrow with some herbal soup. I need to head back to the restaurant now.”

A woman’s voice floated from his parents’ room.

He knew of this voice. Not his mother’s. It hit him wrong—immediately.

A few moments later, Beomgyu’s mother stumbled out of the room, startled to see Yeonjun standing there. Her cheeks were flushed, coat misaligned, thick curls messily framing her face.

“Ah, Yeonjun-ah... Your appa’s not feeling well. Drank too much again,” she said with a nervous smile. “Take care of him for me, yeah? I’ll come by again tomorrow.”

She left before he could respond.

He bowed out of habit, even though something inside him had cracked.

When he stepped into the room, it felt like someone had scooped out its soul. His mother’s things—the vanity cluttered with makeup and hand creams, the floral dresses that always hung on the walls like art—gone. Even the large duffel bag his father used for offshore work had vanished.

His voice was fragile. “Abeoji… Where’s Eomma?”

His father lay on the bed, shirt undone, cheeks red from alcohol, sobbing like a child.

“Jun... I’m sorry…”

The plastic bag dropped from Yeonjun’s hand.

No.

No, please—not this. Not his worst fear.

“You drank with Beomgyu’s eomma? What did you do?!”

“I’m sorry… Yeonjun, I’m so sorry…”

“Where is eomma? Where is she?? Why is everything gone?!”

His father didn’t answer—just wept harder. And Yeonjun could only grab him by the collar, screaming, shaking him for answers he already knew deep down.

He never forgave him.

From that night on, they barely spoke. His father started working offshore more frequently, never staying home longer than a few days. He sent money, but nothing else.

Rumors spread through the night market, the restaurants, the sauna—everywhere. That Yeonjun’s mother was gone. Then, came the whispers about Beomgyu’s mother going back to Daegu, too.

Yeonjun hadn’t seen Beomgyu in a while, despite being worried of him. He had been avoiding him on purpose—and he hoped it would stay that way, to not see him.

That very day remained the worst day of Yeonjun's life—because that day, it was the day he lost his entire family. His entire pillar.

He lost his mother, and right now, he lost Beomgyu, too.

“What do you mean your window broke?”

Beomgyu fiddled with his MP3 player, thumb grazing the textured coating, the other hand loosely hanging off the back of the chair. The others stared at him, concern etched on their faces.

“Someone threw something through it, or smashed it, I don’t know, could be those Yeongsan fuckers. Pretty lame, honestly,” he said with a sigh, voice flat.

He had woken up to too much sunlight than usual, this morning. The rays poured in unnaturally bright—and then he saw it. A jagged rock near the edge of the room. Shards of broken glass scattered across the floor. A gaping hole where the window covered with papers used to be.

The thing is, anyone could’ve done it. People on the street. Other high school gang members. Some face he couldn’t even remember the name of. Beomgyu lived a life with people holding grudges surrounding him, after all.

One thing for sure, whoever it was, they really hated him. Because that rock was pretty big, with sharp edges too, as if it was purposely filed to be that way.

“Glad you’re okay, though. Could’ve been a lot worse.” Kai rested a hand on his shoulder, patting him.

But honestly… Beomgyu wished it had been worse. He wished the rock had hit him. Hard enough to end it all—no more pain, no more pretending.

“Yeah, whatever. I’ll just have to work twice as hard to replace it. Not gonna ask my boss—they’re old, I’d feel bad,” he muttered, eyes still fixed on his MP3 player.

He turned to face the front afterwards, needing space before the class started.

But then the door opened.

Yeonjun stepped in, carrying books—probably here to study with Soobin again before the classes started.

Then, their eyes met. It lasted more than a second. Yeonjun’s gaze lingered—right on the fresh familiar bandaid on Beomgyu’s cheek.

(It was the bandaid that Yeonjun gave him yesterday. Beomgyu decided to change it this morning, and he regretted it. Sort of.)

Beomgyu immediately turned away. He plugged in his earphones, let his head drop onto the table, hiding his face.

He ignored the tightening in his chest.

The pounding in his ears.

And the warmth quietly pooling in the corners of his eyes.

Whatever, Yeonjun wouldn't care.

The day went by as usual—classes were uneventful, and Beomgyu did his best to stay focused as the exam approached, despite his mind spiralling at times. When the final bell rang, the hallways filled with chatter and the shuffle of bags and footsteps, he found himself debating with his mind, between heading to the cafeteria or slipping away to the rooftop for a quiet lunch alone.

So he walked aimlessly, fingers brushing over the buttons of his MP3 player as he pulled it from his pocket, ready to retreat into music. 

But just as he reached to press play, a tug on his sleeve made him stop in his tracks.

“Beomgyu-ssi?”

He turned.

A shorter boy stood there. Someone from his class—Beomgyu knew the face but never cared enough to learn the name. Took him a second to place it, then it clicked. Oh, right. The errand boy. The one who ran around buying drinks and snacks for Youngbae and his crew, just so he wouldn’t get bullied like the rest.

“Hello, Beomgyu-ssi,” he said politely. “Soobin would like to meet you in the bathroom for a moment. The one with the wet floor sign, near the art room.”

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow. A messenger? From Soobin?

“Huh. I see,” he said, slipping the MP3 player back into his pocket. “I’ll be there.”

He turned, gazing briefly following the boy as he hurried off again, seemingly nervous.

Weird. What could Soobin possibly want this time? The request was strange—meet me in the bathroom? And through someone else, too? It didn't really seem like something he would do, but nonetheless he went to check what it could be about.

He adjusted his bag strap and began walking down the hall, turning toward the east wing where the art room sat tucked in a quieter corridor. The chatter faded behind him, replaced by the distant squeaks of rubber soles and the hum of flickering ceiling lights. And there it was at the end. The bathroom with the wet floor sign in front. 

Oddly specific.

The bathroom was quiet when he entered. Empty. Cold light bounced off the tiles, and the echo of his steps followed him in. He stepped further inside, checking the stalls—until one creaked open behind him.

"Hey, Beomgyu! Sorry—I was just using the stall." Soobin fixed his glasses, and Beomgyu gave him a bored look.

"Keep it simple," Beomgyu sighed. "What do you want?"

"Just wanted to talk, you know... How... How are you holding up? Coping with everything, and… what happened yesterday, and all." Soobin's tone was soft, oddly careful. He walked over and locked the bathroom door behind him, and Beomgyu's brows furrowed at that.

"And you picked now to ask? Could’ve just talked to me after school, I was about to go eat."

"A-ah, sorry... I just felt bad. Wanted to check on you."

Beomgyu scoffed. "Not sure why you care, honestly. We’re not even friends."

"I care because I’m human, it’s normal to care, right? Normal for a human to care for another human.”

Beomgyu looked away, jaw tight. Soobin said it as if he was convincing him that he was a human. How odd.

“Just, stop talking to me, okay? Go hang out with Yeonjun or something, I don’t want to deal with either of you."

"You always push people away... Do you really not want to make any new friends, just because Yeonjun rejected you? You know he'd still be your friend, even if—"

"As if," Beomgyu scoffed coldly. "You don’t know anything about us. Just because you talk to me and Yeonjun at the same time, doesn't mean you know both of us to that extent, so leave me alone, got it?"

But Soobin didn't stop.

"I heard about the window, someone threw a rock at it, right? You’re okay though, right? That kind of person must really hate you. Hate you enough to want you gone, hate you enough they want to kill you by throwing a rock and hoping it lands on your head, and smash them to pieces like the window."

Beomgyu narrowed his eyes.

What kind of normal person would say something like that?

"What the hell do you mean by that?"

"I—I overheard you in class, talking with your friends."

"Okay? But I never said it was a rock."

Silence. Soobin blinked.

"Wouldn’t it be a rock? I mean… it’s a common thing to throw. To break glass, to throw to someone you dislike?"

Beomgyu’s stomach sank.

"You say that like it’s something you’ve done."

Soobin gave a small smile that didn't reach his eyes, stepping closer. His eyes dropped to the floor as Beomgyu tried stepping back further from him.

"Maybe I have,” Soobin whistled. “I also make people jump off buildings for fun, too."

Beomgyu froze.

"...Excuse me? What the fuck?"

"Want to try it? We could go up to the rooftop. Just talk."

Then Soobin looked up, and Beomgyu’s breath caught. That wasn’t the usual Soobin, at least from what he had observed. The eyes seemed… evil. The smile was too sharp. Too off. There was no warmth, no nervous charm—only something cold and sinister. 

Like a psychopath.

It hit Beomgyu all at once—he had been right from the start. 

There was indeed something strange about Soobin.

Before he could react, Soobin shoved him hard against the tiled wall, and there was a loud thud. One of his wrists was pinned, and Beomgyu struggled and winced, trying to get Soobin off of him, but he was strong—stronger than he looked, a pretty nerd.

"It was you," Beomgyu hissed through his teeth, glaring up at Soobin. "Wasn’t it?"

Soobin just laughed—low and slow, like a rumble of a drum. "Smart boy! I guess that’s why you’re in the top class. Rough, but clever."

The grip on Beomgyu's wrist tightened mercilessly as Soobin raised his arm above his head, forcing him back against the cold tile. His nails dug into Beomgyu’s skin, sharp enough to leave marks—sharp enough to hurt, and a pained breath escaped Beomgyu’s lips as every muscle in his arm tensed in protest.

As much as Beomgyu tried twisting out of Soobin's grasps, it was completely useless. Whatever strength that he possessed, it wasn't normal. It was as if he had practiced day and night for that very moment.

Calculated. Controlled. Dangerous.

It was almost creepy that there was nothing in Soobin's eyes. Only the darkness of satisfaction and amusement at the situation.

“Who… Who exactly are you?” Beomgyu trembled, breath hitching. “And what do you want from me? Why do you do this..?”

“Choi Soobin, from Pohang, thought you knew that,” Soobin replied casually, humming for a while, as if thinking of a proper reason. “Hm, actually, for no reason, I just liked it! After all, you'd relate with me won't you? Beating up people for fun~”

“Shut it, asshole, I fight people who bother my friends and people I care about, I don't touch innocent people,” he glared. “And you, on the other hand, lay your dirty hands all over people who don't deserve it.”

A violent laughter.

“Oh, you think you're part of people who don't deserve it?” Soobin reached behind with his other hand, gripping on Beomgyu's hair, forcing him to look up. 

“You bothered me, Beomgyu-yah… I told you to stay away from Yeonjun, right? But you never listen!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?? I did? And now what, why are you doing this to me? You obsessed freak—”

Soobin leaned in with a smirk, slamming him back to the wall, and Beomgyu squeezed his eyes shut, fighting against the pain from his head being shoved on the tiled surface.

“I like that fear in your eyes, ah… You're quite a brat, you know?” He whispered. “As if I didn't know you met Yeonjun yesterday. You had fun?”

“How the fuck did you know that? Were you following—”

Another slam on the head.

“Don't be ridiculous, I hate it when someone goes against my words, and you…” The taller one grinned creepily. “I really want to see what it takes to break you completely.”

Soobin’s grip stayed firm around Beomgyu’s wrist, his nails digging in with unsettling force. Beomgyu squirmed, trying to yank himself free, frustration bubbling into panic. Eventually, he finally managed to push Soobin back—but it didn’t feel like he overpowered him. 

No… it felt like Soobin let go on purpose.

The taller stumbled, falling onto the bathroom floor with a dull thud.

Beomgyu froze, heart racing. He expected anger, embarrassment—anything. But Soobin just sat there for a second, then looked up at him with a smile.

Not a warm one. Not confused or apologetic.

But something that made Beomgyu’s skin prickle. He knew something wasn’t right.

Not with Soobin. Not with any of this.

And unexpectedly, Soobin slapped himself.

Not once, not twice, but multiple times until his cheek turned red and bruised. As if that wasn't enough to shock Beomgyu, he ripped his clothes up as a few buttons flew away on the floor, pulling on his own hair.

Beomgyu couldn't even move. He was stunned, eyes widened, his body trembled.

“W—What the fuck are you doing??? Stop it!” 

Soobin didn’t stop, no matter how much Beomgyu tried to scream and ask him to stop—he couldn’t do anything except watch in fear.

Beomgyu was used to fighting, the sight of blood and bruises had never been a problem. He could take on anyone who challenged him—whether they were rowdy juveniles or street fighters. He could beat them all with ease, throwing punches and kicks like it was second nature. He lived up to his reputation—a mad dog, wild and fearless.

But this… this was different. It made him tremble.

Because never—not once in his life—had he seen someone act like this.

For the first time in his life, he met someone crazier than him.

“L-Let go of me—ah! Let go of me Beomgyu!!! I-I’m sorry—help me!!!”

The way Soobin acted—completely unhinged, slapping himself, ruffling his own hair until he looked wild and unrecognizable—terrified Beomgyu.

It was stupid, so stupid of him to only now realize what Soobin was trying to do.

It was all a trap.

Beomgyu was too deep into his thoughts, succumbing to fear, trembling in horror. It was too late for him to notice that people had been gathering outside the door after hearing the loud scream—and the door flew open as few people slammed their bodies on it.

One of them was Yeonjun.

“What the hell did you do?!” Yeonjun screamed towards Beomgyu who was standing there, shoving him away as if he had been any closer to disheveled Soobin.

“I—It wasn't me! I—”

“What do you mean it wasn't you? Are you trying to say Soobin did it to himself?” Yeonjun cut him off, rushing towards Soobin, pulling him into a hug, comforting him.

Jun-ah… You're hugging the wrong person.

Beomgyu couldn't even say anything as Soobin cried in Yeonjun's arms, hiding, trembling as if he was genuinely hurt. As if Beomgyu had physically hurt him, when it was the other way around. He wanted to scream, tell Yeonjun and everyone peeking from the door that it wasn't him.

But who would believe him? 

Compared to Soobin—the quiet, soft-spoken rich kid who always had his nose in books—Beomgyu, despite being smart, was known for getting into fights with other kids. No one would believe him.

“You're that mad that I rejected you, and you decided to hit Soobin as revenge?” 

Those words hurt Beomgyu so much that he could physically feel it in his chest. Like it was shoved, twisted, stirred until he was physically overwhelmed. He couldn’t speak—his mind was overflowing, how sad that Yeonjun had known him for so long, and yet… this is what he thought Beomgyu would do out of jealousy?

“How could you think of that…? Did you think I would really do this…?” Beomgyu muttered after a while, but Yeonjun ignored it. Tending to Soobin that needed his attention more.

“I apologized, and we talked, so why… Just why did you have to fucking do all this??? Where’s your conscience?!”

“P—Please listen—”

“No, thanks,” Yeonjun turned away as he pulled Soobin's arm gently around his shoulder. “I have someone to take care of, other than listening to a fucking psychopath, so get the hell out of my sight.”

Yeonjun left while holding Soobin in his arms, as students made way for them, still curious over what had happened, although they could guess and assume. 

Beomgyu? He could only stand there, breath heavy, his whole body aching, his heart squeezing tight in his chest. The stares from the other students burned into him like his whole body were pressed against a boiling stove, prepared to be thrown in.

“As expected from Beomgyu, he's that obsessed with Yeonjun.”

“No wonder people called him Mad Dog. He's really a mad one.”

“He’s fucked, Soobin's family would definitely get him suspended.”

Beomgyu tried to shut himself off from everything—all the words, the stares—but he couldn't help it. He just wanted to cry and cry, even if it would turn into tears of blood.

But of course, nothing hurt more than the shame and pain from the words Yeonjun had thrown at him.

For the first time in his life, he ran—from all the words, all the eyes—crashing into people as he fled the bathroom, the building, the school premises, ignoring the students and teachers calling for him... tears streaming down his face. 

Maybe he really should’ve died yesterday—from the rock.

Soobin, meanwhile, cried in Yeonjun’s arms as he was taken to the school nurse. Yeonjun held him close, murmuring soft words, gently brushing back his hair—all in an effort to soothe him.

It was shocking—not just to Yeonjun, but to everyone—that Beomgyu would dare lay a hand on Soobin. The Soobin: the quiet, well-mannered boy, the wealthiest in school. Why? Out of jealousy, they whispered. Over something petty. Over attention.

And honestly, Yeonjun felt a twinge of regret. 

Regret for ever having let a soft spot for Beomgyu form in his chest. Once again.

But what Yeonjun didn’t see, what no one saw, was the fleeting smirk on Soobin’s face—curled beneath the tears, beneath the shaking hands.

A smirk full of hatred. Full of satisfaction.

Now, he only had one heart left to break. The main heart he was after.

Beomgyu missed school for the whole week, and stayed at the restaurant to help out.

The old man and old lady kept bugging him about school—asking him why he skipped, why he looked worse than usual, but he didn't say anything and just brushed them off, assuring them that he was all good. In the meantime, he fixed the broken windows, cleaned up his whole room, burning all of his past exam papers.

He stopped caring about school after what happened—it traumatized him to the core. He knew sooner or later the school might come for him, Soobin's parents might come for him, and it would be a hassle. He knew Yeonjun would start hating him too, and that would be expected. But what could he even do, at this point?

No one would believe him. He had no one.

Days passed by, time was ticking, and Beomgyu waited.

Until it came.

A letter arrived in the main mailbox—an official one from the school. The old lady, who often checked in on him, looked worried, assuming Beomgyu might be getting suspended for skipping classes. 

But he didn’t need to open it to know that wasn’t the reason. He didn't bother to check, because in the corner of the envelope, written in familiar cursive—was the principal’s handwriting.

A date, followed by a brief message: Come to school. Regarding the fight.

And so, Beomgyu went. He knew this time, it would end one of two ways: either he’d graduate late, or be suspended entirely. Somehow, the latter felt more likely, but honestly? He didn’t care anymore. He just wanted to run. He knew there would be no justice for him—not here, not anywhere close to here. The only choice left was to leave. To run, and never look back. To disappear from Bupyeong, forever.

That would probably be the best choice, for everyone's sake.

Beomgyu sat on the velvet couch in the principal’s office—a place that felt more like a second home by now. The tea offered to him sat untouched on the table, its steam curling upward, fading slowly into nothing—just like his will to keep going. 

The tension in the room was too suffocating, it was so quiet, he could hear his own heartbeat thudding in his ears.

Across from him sat Soobin and a middle-aged man—his father, presumably. Soobin looked down at the floor, a bandage neatly pressed over his cheek, his posture small, pitiful, despite his taller and bigger build. He looked every bit like a victim, and that’s exactly what everyone would believe.

But the real marks of what happened were sitting on Beomgyu—the faint, crescent-shaped nail marks along his wrist, hidden beneath fresh bandages. His hands were clenched into trembling fists, his body taut with silent fear and helplessness. 

He wasn't scared of the situation he was being put in.

He was scared of Soobin.

The door swung open after a few tense seconds—and Beomgyu’s eyes widened.

It was the boy who had delivered the message.

The one who told him Soobin wanted to see him.

“Shall we begin?” The principal cleared his throat, but Beomgyu's eyes never left the messenger boy as he sat down beside Soobin. He looked nervous, just like how he saw him last time, and Beomgyu was holding himself from grabbing his collar.

The principal continued, "We are here today to address a serious incident that occurred yesterday involving physical violence between students."

He glanced between them all before settling his gaze on the messenger boy.

"You," he said. "Please recount exactly what happened—how this meeting in the bathroom came to be."

The boy nodded nervously, but his voice was steady, rehearsed. "Beomgyu-ssi personally came to me during lunch and asked me to tell Soobin-ssi to meet him at the toilet, the one close to the art room...”

What?

No one said anything. Not even Beomgyu dared to speak.

The messenger boy took the silence as permission to continue. He started trembling harder the moment his eyes accidentally met Beomgyu’s, however—as if he had forgotten the script he had been given.

“I—I stayed back a bit… Outside the door, I was scared… Scared that Beomgyu-ssi might do something to Soobin-ssi…” he stammered, voice growing quieter. “And I was right. Soobin started screaming, and I… I called a few others for help, to smash the door down.”

The boy’s gaze dropped to the floor. He didn’t look at anyone after that.

“Then, how about we move to Soobin?” The principal turned to the boy, who was pretending to tremble. “I’d like to hear your version of the incident.”

Soobin sat up straighter, gaze dropping to his lap. He played with the hem of his sleeve, his tone soft and broken, and it sent shiver down Beomgyu's spine.

“Yes… the boy told the truth,” he began, glancing briefly at the messenger boy who still sat there, pale. “He came to me and said Beomgyu wanted to meet in the toilet.”

Beomgyu’s chest tightened.

Soobin continued, pausing for effect. “We have… something in between us that I’d like to keep private. But he was jealous… of something I did.”

He reached up to brush the bandage on his cheek and let his voice tremble just enough, closing his eyes as if trying to remember what had happened. Trying to remember something that never happened.

“He slapped me. Over and over. Pulled my hair. He said things I can’t repeat here. It hurts… it still hurts…”

The principal gave a slow nod, jotting something down.

Beomgyu stared in disbelief.

No.

No, that wasn’t how it happened.

That wasn't what happened at all.

The truth was simple—so simple. The messenger boy had come to Beomgyu, saying Soobin wanted to meet. It was Soobin who asked for him. Not the other way around.

This story?

This incident?

It was made up. Every word of it. Crafted carefully and precisely.

Beomgyu was getting dizzy, the puzzle pieces clicking into place one by one. It had all been a trap—carefully crafted by that devil, Soobin. For what reason? He couldn’t be sure. But if it was all because of Yeonjun… if it was just jealousy over a conversation—then Soobin had to be a full-blown psychopath. 

That level of obsession, that cruelty, just for speaking to someone?

But then, even if it wasn’t about Yeonjun, even if there was another reason—it didn’t matter. Slapping himself. Faking tears. Framing someone so thoroughly. Pretending to be scared.

That was psychotic, no matter the excuse.

“He’s lying, they're both lying,” Beomgyu urgent, his voice sharp—cutting through the thick silence like glass. “I have no reason to do any of this! I was framed—”

“Even with a witness, Beomgyu?” the principal interrupted, his tone already weary, like the decision had been made long before this meeting.

Beomgyu’s chest tightened. Desperation clawed up his throat. He knew the principal wouldn’t listen. He never really had, and to an extent, he understood why.

“I was fucking framed! Aren’t you listening? That bastard, he was the—”

“Enough.”

The word came from someone else this time. 

A voice unfamiliar. Low. Firm.

Beomgyu turned, startled, to the man seated directly across from him. Now that he looked closer, the resemblance was undeniable—Soobin, just older. More wrinkles. Sharper lines. Colder eyes. Silver glasses sitting on his nose bridge.

The principal cleared his throat once more, stepping back like a pawn making way for a king. Soobin’s father rose from his seat slowly, gaze locked on Beomgyu. 

Those eyes—they weren’t just angry. They were full of disdain. Dismissal. Like Beomgyu wasn’t even a person anymore—just something dirty on the side of the road that no one would ever bat an eye at.

“What a vile mouth,” the man said coldly. “A boy like you—someone who belongs on the street—dare to touch my son with those filthy hands? And now you say you were framed? After all the stories I’ve heard about you, you expect me to believe you didn’t start it?”

Beomgyu couldn’t speak.

Because deep down, he knew the man wasn’t wrong. That was the worst part.

It was the reason everyone believed he’d done it. Because this was how he’d always lived—covered in bruises and bandages, fighting his way through the world just to survive. Of course they’d think he was capable of hurting someone like Soobin. A boy like him, in the same room as someone like Soobin?

People would assume Soobin would leave with bruises—and Beomgyu would be the one who put them there.

How did life get so cruel?

How could it be this unfair, when Beomgyu hadn’t done anything wrong at all?

Or maybe he did deserve it. Maybe life wasn't being unfair to him. Life was simply punishing him—for the path he had chosen for himself.

Beomgyu barely listened anymore as the principal started talking. Everything around him was a blur. He didn’t even register when the man finally sat back down—until a folder was placed in front of him, snapping him back to reality.

“If you kneel down and apologize to my son personally,” the man said, “I’ll consider letting you off and allowing you to finish school. Not in the same class as my son, however.”

Right.

Kneel. Bow. Apologize. Throw away whatever dignity he had left just to finish school like nothing had happened. Just a few months to graduation, wasn’t it?

But how could Beomgyu let that happen?

Without a word, he reached for the pen beside the documents. He looked the man dead in the eye as he signed them—a suspension letter, along with a list of schools and juvenile centers he could apply to afterward. Not that he ever would.

He hadn’t done anything wrong.

“I would never apologize for something I didn’t do,” he said firmly. “I refuse.”

He stood from his seat, glancing at everyone in the room.

The principal, who sighed and accepted the paper quietly. The messenger boy, avoiding eye contact like he thought Beomgyu might lash out on him. Soobin, whose eyes widened ever so slightly in surprise—seemingly fake. And the man—still seated, still composed.

“Well then, you’ve made your choice,” the man sneered, legs crossed and arms folded. “What an atrocious child, you’ll never succeed in life. A boy with no parents, living like a thug—you were born to be a criminal. You’ll end up in jail someday. That’s your future.”

Beomgyu was used to words like these. They didn’t stab the way they used to.

He bowed slightly to the principal, keeping his composure. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “For tolerating my behavior all these years. Just so you know—I didn’t do it.”

And then he left.

Passed the principal’s office. The classrooms he grew up accustomed to. The hallways that had become part of his routine.

He wouldn’t see them again. Wouldn’t ever look back.

The students he shared his days with—he wouldn’t talk to them again either. That thought hurt more than he expected. As he passed familiar classrooms, he could feel eyes on him. Some confused. Some judgmental. Others just quiet.

When he passed his own class, he tried not to cry.

But then came the hardest part.

Yeonjun.

He stood by the hallway. But he didn’t even look at Beomgyu.

Beomgyu stopped. His feet paused, as if they still hoped. As if they still wanted something.

But Yeonjun never looked his way.

So Beomgyu turned and kept walking. Not once did he turn around. Not for the school. Not for the people. Not even for Yeonjun. That chapter of his life was over. The memories—both painful and precious—would stay behind. He hoped his friends would keep going, keep studying hard, even without him.

Half-reluctantly, he stepped down the entrance stairs. He didn’t notice the expensive car parked nearby, and he surely didn’t see the woman in the passenger seat.

A very familiar middle-aged woman.

Watching, with compassion, warmth, regret.

The school was close to empty after the final bell rang, and the old gym was quieter still—filled only with the soft hum of an old fan swinging slowly on the desk. Every now and then, the loose corner of a wall calendar flapped in its breeze. Sunlight cut through the cracked windows, catching the dust as it drifted lazily in the air.

This had always been Yeonjun’s secret place—his own little sanctuary since his first year of highschool, where he didn't have to pretend.

Now, it was Soobin’s too.

The said boy sat on the makeshift bench, his posture casual, bangs falling gently over his forehead. He hummed softly to himself, brushing his fingers against the bandage on his cheek, as if testing the memory beneath it.

Yeonjun knelt beside Soobin, gently unwrapping the thermos he’d brought. “Drink this, it’s still warm. Made some herbal tea.”

Soobin took it with both hands, wordless. For a moment, Yeonjun just watched him—watched the way he blew on the tea, how he avoided eye contact. He was quiet, not crying anymore, thankfully.

He’s still scared of the possibility that it would happen again, Yeonjun reminded himself. You have to protect him. No one else will.

And yet… somewhere beneath all that concern, the question twisted again.

What exactly happened that day?

Beomgyu’s face flashed in his mind—bandaged wrist, hollow eyes, the way he was trying so hard to defend himself that day it happened, but Yeonjun refused to listen. And when they crossed paths earlier, in the hallway, despite not looking at him properly, he could easily tell his emotions.

He didn’t look angry.

He looked destroyed.

"Hey," Soobin suddenly said, waking him up from his thoughts. "Did you hear?"

Yeonjun blinked. "Hm? What is it?"

"Beomgyu," Soobin sighed, and sipped the tea. “He got permanently suspended.”

Yeonjun didn’t respond.

So he did… get suspended.

“He refused to apologize,” Soobin added softly. “Said he didn’t do it, debated with my father… Can you believe that? The ego. After everything he did to me...”

Yeonjun's jaw tightened. “He always did have some god complex.”

But the words tasted wrong. Sour in his mouth.

It wasn't exactly the Beomgyu that he knew.

If Beomgyu really didn't do it… Why didn’t he beg to stay? Why didn’t he fight back—not in the usual way? Why did he just accept the suspension, right before the most important exam of their lives, when he had been studying well all this time?

It didn’t make sense. And Yeonjun hated that it didn’t. He kept turning it over in his mind, again and again, until it started to wear thin.

But then—could he really doubt Soobin?

No. Of course not. Soobin was gentle, soft-spoken, and fragile. Way too different from Beomgyu. There was no way he would go that far, no way he would hurt himself or manipulate something so cruelly, for no reason. Right?

Still… the questions wouldn’t stop. And it was starting to eat away at him.

Yeonjun didn’t say any of that aloud.

Instead, he leaned back against the wall, eyes flickering toward the broken windows, where sunlight slanted in like prison bars.

Three weeks left ‘til the big exam.

Three weeks, and still, nothing made sense.

Soobin then set the thermos down and leaned into Yeonjun’s side, head tilting just enough to rest on his shoulder, taking his hand to play with his fingers casually.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “For staying. For taking care of me. I appreciate it, Yeonjun-ah.”

Yeonjun didn’t answer right away. He was used to hearing those words by now—every time Soobin broke down, every time he showed up to the spot with swollen eyes and a shaking voice. It had become part of their routine, after what happened that day, with Beomgyu.

Soobin shifted slightly, his face angling downward, closer. “I really don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”

Yeonjun looked down at him. The space between them narrowed—and he knew what Soobin was waiting for, expecting for. 

The lean in. The kiss. The proof.

But Yeonjun didn’t move. He wasn't ready.

Instead, he gently pulled the blanket over Soobin’s shoulders, tucking it under his chin like a mother would to a child. His hand lingered at the crown of Soobin’s head, brushing through his hair softly, before he removed his glasses for him, setting it aside.

“You should rest,” he said. “You’re still shaking. I’ll be here, yeah?”

Soobin's eyes opened fully now, confusion and annoyance flickering through them—but he quickly masked it. Yeonjun then stood and moved to clean up the empty containers of food and the scattered books, shoving them into their bags. 

Then, he noticed it.

A thin, braided bracelet, on Soobin’s wrist—gold and burgundy threads, delicate, handwoven. It wasn’t there yesterday, or all this time.

For a second, Yeonjun’s breath caught.

Years had passed, but he remembered them clearly. His mother had one. Or something nearly identical. She used to wear it all the time—one of the few things she never took off, even when she left. It was woven by her friend back in Ulsan where she worked in a factory for a while, not bought from shops.

His brow furrowed. “Where’d you get that?”

“Get what?” Soobin paused, then smiled faintly when he looked down on his wrist. “Oh… this? Just something I found in an old drawer. Pretty, isn’t it?”

Yeonjun stared at it a beat longer, unsettled, but nodded slowly.

“Yeah… pretty.”

But the weight in his chest didn’t settle. In fact, it twisted tighter.

A week and two days before the big exam.

The school had been quieter, in a sense that there were no fights happening. Students were either focusing on studying or gossiping. That didn’t apply to Beomgyu, who had been following the same routine for a while now—he focused on work, slowly saving up more.

Other times, when he wasn’t working—usually during his little break in the late afternoon—he used to be around places, fighting people, or hanging out. But now, he would just stay in his room, the fixed window covered with layers of old newspaper, doing nothing. Just lying there. Staring at the ceiling. Listening to his MP3 on repeat, the same songs over and over again.

Same routine, same view.

It felt empty.

Until he heard an urgent knock. A familiar voice cursing from the other side, sharp enough to make him hesitate.

The knock came again—louder this time. Not friendly. Not patient.

Beomgyu eventually opened the door after the ninth knock and a rough jiggle of the doorknob. Kai didn’t waste time with greetings. He walked right in, sat down at the small wooden table, and dropped a crumpled piece of paper onto it. The paper looked old, stained in places, folded so many times the edges had softened.

“Well, good to see you too,” Beomgyu muttered, closing the door as he sat beside him. “What?”

“You took a while, but anyway—read this,” Kai said urgently, without hesitation. “You need to, you have no idea how bad it is, until I had to come quickly.”

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow and picked up the paper slowly, eyes scanning the messy cursive handwriting. He could barely read it—half the ink had faded, and some lines were almost completely gone. 

He surrendered halfway.

“Mind telling me what happened directly instead?”

Kai’s voice was low, but urgent.

“Soobin. That guy? He’s not what you think he is. It’s not what we thought all this time.”

Beomgyu frowned. Oh. 

“What the hell do you mean by that?”

Kai took a deep breath, pausing for just a second to decide how to say it. “Your hunch was right about Soobin being suspicious. Before coming here, he was kicked out of Pohang High, and even before that, he moved away from another school—also because of bullying scandals.”

“Bullying?” His tone was flat. Disbelieving. “Soobin? Bullying scandals?”

Kai continued. “Unbelievable, right? He was a well-known bully. People were scared of him—first because he was rich, and mostly because he was fucking psycho and he could get away with it easily. One time, he nearly killed a student because of some silly dare, and the student jumped from the second floor, broke his leg. School almost had to call the police.”

Beomgyu’s fingers trembled slightly as he held the letter. Almost had to? And they didn't, when Soobin literally did that? Made a kid jump from buildings… It was definitely a fucked-up story—but somehow… it made sense. 

The things Soobin said back during the incident were true, then.

“Why didn’t I hear about this?”

“Because his parents buried it. Quiet money, fake story, bla bla bla. That school didn’t want any trouble with an influential family. Soobin’s father is a rich guy, and apparently his mother is a radio celebrity.”

Beomgyu ran a hand down his face. “What a hell of a guy…”

Kai nodded grimly. “Yeah. And if you don’t warn Yeonjun soon, Soobin’s going to destroy everything. Especially Yeonjun.”

Beomgyu swallowed hard. His jaw clenched.

“Where is Yeonjun now?”

Kai glanced toward the window. “He should be walking back home. I checked with Wooyoung—Soobin already went home earlier with his driver.”

Beomgyu’s expression darkened. His fingers curled into a fist on the table. “Then I’m going to see him.”

Kai didn’t stop him. Just nodded once. “Good. Because this is your only chance.”

That was all that took Beomgyu to run and find Yeonjun, ignoring the fact that he had mismatched sandals.

He had never run this fast, he didn't even know where exactly to run, but somehow his feet ended up stepping on the paddy field where they often run around at, where the big tree, like a watchful guardian, stood tall and magical in the middle of the field.

Beomgyu stood there for a while, not a sign of Yeonjun at all. He didn't know how long he had been standing there, after all time had lost its meaning ever since he got suspended. 

For a moment, he thought the silence of the paddy field was peaceful, only rustles of grains and chirping of birds could be heard. 

But it also reminded him of how abandoned he was.

Because no one had believed him. (Apart from his gangs. Even so, he wasn't sure if half of them were sincere.) Because no one asked for his side of the story, too.

He was already the kind of person people had made their minds up about. Guilty, no matter what. All because of how he looked, how he carried the history of fights on his skin like tattoos.

But then, maybe, maybe Yeonjun might change his mind, with enough convincing.

They used to be friends, after all.

Not knowing whether Yeonjun would show up or not, he waited anyway. His chest ached with the weight of everything he needed to say, his fingers twitching nervously at his sides. How was he even supposed to start? Would Yeonjun get mad at him for dumping all this information—suddenly, with no proof? Would he defend Soobin? Ask for evidence? Or would he just stay silent?

He had no idea.

He kept his gaze low until he saw the figure he had been hoping to see—Yeonjun, walking alone from the direction of the school, his bag slung over one shoulder, head slightly bowed in thought, like how he always had. He walked past him, and Beomgyu let him for a bit, until a specific second.

“Choi Yeonjun,” Beomgyu finally called out, just loud enough to be heard, but still—like he was afraid of his own voice.

Yeonjun stopped.

He didn’t look up. He didn’t say anything. Just stood there—rigid, unreadable. 

“I just need a minute, please Yeonjun,” Beomgyu uttered nervously, taking a step forward, voice trembling but steady enough. “Then I’ll leave you alone, I… I swear.”

Another beat of silence passed. Yeonjun still didn’t move.

Beomgyu stepped closer. Not too much. Just enough that Yeonjun could hear him clearly.

“Kai came to see me,” Beomgyu began. “He told me about Soobin, Soobin's backstory.”

He paused, searching Yeonjun’s back for a sign—a twitch of the shoulder, a breath, anything.

“He got suspended from his last schools, Yeonjun. For bullying, one kid almost died—you can check, I didn’t believe it at first either, but… it makes sense now. All of it.”

He swallowed hard. The words hurt coming out, like ripping open an old wound. He hated that Yeonjun still refused to say anything. How could Yeonjun be so cruel…

Beomgyu continued.

“That day in the bathroom… he set me up. Scratched my wrists, and slapped himself. He made the messenger kid lie. I… I didn’t touch him, Jun. I swear… I really didn’t.” His voice cracked, like a thin sheet of glass giving way. 

“But nobody cared. Nobody asked. They saw the bandages on me and said, ‘of course he did it,’ including you, Yeonjun.”

Yeonjun’s hands were curled into fists at his sides now. But he still hadn’t turned around. So, Beomgyu continued once more, slowly breaking down, like a glass glued back from being broken, to slowly break again.

“I lost everything. And I stayed quiet. Because I thought maybe I deserved it. Maybe if I had been better before, if I hadn’t always been fighting just to breathe, someone would’ve stood up for me. Sad, right? But you know what hurts me the most, Yeonjun?”

Beomgyu’s eyes stung, but he didn’t cry — not yet. “You didn’t come for me, Yeonjun.”

That was the part that hurt the most. That he hadn’t even looked.

Yeonjun finally turned slightly, just enough for Beomgyu to see his profile, the sunset catching in his eyes. He looked stunned. Hurt. Maybe even scared.

Then he spoke.

“Why do you like me?” Yeonjun asked quietly, like the question had been haunting him for weeks. “Why did you ever like me?”

Beomgyu blinked, curious, nervous. That wasn’t what he expected coming from him, after he was trying so hard to prove that Soobin was an evil manipulator and a psychopath. Trying hard to defend himself.

Nonetheless, Beomgyu chose to tell the truth.

“No reason,” he said, voice softer now, looking down. “I just do. I just like you, just the way you are.”

And it was true. There was never a solid, specific reason. 

It was just the way Yeonjun smiled towards him. The way he sat with him during class and recess when no one else did. The way he always reassured Beomgyu that he wasn’t as bad as the other kids said just for not having a father. The way he cared. 

Everything about him. Overall, just Yeonjun.

Even now, even after all this, he still felt it.

Yeonjun was quiet for a long time, staring somewhere over Beomgyu’s shoulder.

But, Beomgyu he was a desperate man.

“Can you say something?” Beomgyu begged, feeling his chest tightened as he gripped his side. “Aren't you going to say anything? Am I talking to the wall? Please… Please just Can you say something? Doesn't matter… whether you trust me or not…”

Yeonjun still didn't say anything.

Until he did, and stabbed Beomgyu's heart with his words, twisted it for greater impact, even.

“I used to like you,” Yeonjun said quietly, his eyes finally looking up at him. “Until what happened with our parents…”

What?

Confused and shocked, Beomgyu stared at him, eyes widened. Their… parents? What happened to them? 

“W-What do you mean?”

Yeonjun sighed, so Beomgyu really didn't know anything about it, unfortunately.

“There was a rumor… about our parents—my father and your mother. They had a complicated relationship, and my father cheating with your mother is what caused my mother to run away,” he dug his nails into his skin, still hurting from that day. “That’s why I became reluctant to stay friends with you. I couldn’t look at you properly without feeling hatred for your mother. I’m basically forcing myself… to not like you anymore. Even now.”

Beomgyu's eyes widened even more.

Yeonjun liked him. But he was forcing himself not to like him.

Although knowing his own best friend was hating his mother? He… couldn’t accept that. Not when he knew his mother wasn’t the type of person who would do something like that to someone close to her. Even if she had a bit of a difficult personality, she would never mess with someone else’s household—especially not her friend’s.

“You believed a rumor about my mother… without even telling me? Without knowing whether it was true or not?”

“How could I not, when everyone was talking about it?”

So it was only Beomgyu who didn’t know. Just because he never talked to anyone but Yeonjun.

Maybe that was why people had been giving him more looks than usual back then. It was all because of some baseless rumor he hadn’t even heard of—something his mother never mentioned.

“My mother… She would… Never…” Beomgyu shook his head, but once again, Yeonjun refused to listen.

“I know you didn’t mean it, and it wasn’t your fault… but with you in my life, every day felt like a storm, you know?" Yeonjun spoke, avoiding any eye contact with Beomgyu, however. "I just... I just want one day where I’m not associated with you anymore, okay? So please… just find someone else, and leave me alone."

If those words didn’t hurt Beomgyu enough, what came next hit like a spear thrown straight through his chest, pinning him to a tree bark—the ache devouring him from the inside out.

Yeonjun's voice shook, and he finally looked at him.

“Choi Beomgyu, I hate you.”

That was the first time Yeonjun had called his name in years, other than BG.

But at what cost?

Beomgyu didn’t even flinch. He expected it.

But still, his eyes though, pooled with tears.

“I know,” he replied quietly. "I know you would say that."

It wasn’t the first time someone had said that to him. But, it was the first time it mattered.

And it was too much for his heart to take.

“Then… I’m not going to bother your life anymore, from now and onwards,” Beomgyu added, backing away slowly, not looking at him. “Have a good relationship with Soobin, if you still don't believe me, the things I told you about him... It's… up to you now.”

His voice barely held together now, his throat had a weird taste, his eyes felt warm, his chest tightened bitterly. 

Would this be the end?

“Thank you… for the years we were friends. And the years we were strangers.”

He turned away before Yeonjun could see the way his mouth trembled, the way his hands were shaking. He walked back toward the tree line, toward nothing in particular. The wind had picked up, rustling through the tall grasses like a warning. But he didn’t look back.

Maybe if Beomgyu had loved Yeonjun a little less, he wouldn't have been hurt a lot.

But he didn't regret it. 

Because loving Yeonjun made him feel like a human, for once.

It had come to an end, however.

Yeonjun on the other hand, he didn’t stop him.

He wanted to. Heck, every fiber of his heart screamed to reach out. 

To ask Beomgyu to stay. To say he was sorry. That he didn’t know what to believe anymore.

But he didn’t. He just stood there, silent, as Beomgyu’s figure faded into the field like a shadow swallowed by dusk.

And when Beomgyu finally disappeared off the path, when he was sure Yeonjun wouldn’t see— he broke down.

He fell to his knees on the harsh dirt pathway, the tears falling fast now, unstoppable. He sobbed into his hands like a child, like someone who’d just been told love didn’t want him back, when it was the other way around. It hurt worse than the suspension, worse than the lies. Because Yeonjun—Yeonjun had looked at someone so important to him in the past, like he was nothing.

Yeonjun hadn’t said Beomgyu’s name in years—and when he finally did, it was only to say that he hated him.

He felt something warm slip down his cheek. He didn’t bother wiping it away.

He didn’t know if Beomgyu had told the truth.

But he knew how it felt when someone gave up on you too fast.

And it felt a lot like this.

Beomgyu ran, barely able to see through the tears blurring his vision. The sting in his chest was too much—too loud. He just wanted to disappear.

The thought that Yeonjun actually hated him kept repeating in his mind, looping over and over until it drowned everything else out. He stopped in his tracks, clutching at his hair with both hands before hitting his head, as if he could knock the thought loose. Tears streamed down his face as he cried his heart out, cursing himself, begging his brain to stop—just stop—pleading for it to let him forget.

Then, a hand grabbed his arm from behind.

His breath caught. His heart leapt, foolishly thinking—

“Beomgyu!”

He turned, eyes wide.

It wasn’t Yeonjun.

It was Jimin.

Before he could even react, Jimin pulled him to the side of the street, further into the trees, out of sight.

“I saw everything. You’re seriously crying over him?” Jimin’s voice was sharp, laced with something darker than concern. His fists were already curling, itching for a fight. “Good. That’s all I needed—I’ve been waiting for a reason to mess Yeonjun up.”

Beomgyu ripped his hand away, wiping his tears quickly with the back of his sleeve. His breathing was shaky, but his face was cold again.

“Don’t you dare touch him,” he said. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

Jimin clenched his jaw. He had no idea why Beomgyu always defended Yeonjun, no matter what. Even when it hurt him. Even when it broke him.

“He didn't do anything wrong? For fuck’s sake—why are you always taking his side?” Jimin groaned, one corner of his lips curving upwards in disbelief. “What about me, then?”

Silence.

Then, Jimin muttered, “I’m talking to a wall now, huh? You… Have you ever actually liked me, Beomgyu?”

Beomgyu looked down.

It all started as an alliance, and it had always been just that—at least for Beomgyu. He had never harbored any real feelings for Jimin. But of course, this hotheaded guy had convinced himself otherwise. So no, Jimin’s assumptions were all wrong. They were never together like that.

“I’m sorry, Jimin. Don’t get me wrong—no, I’ve never liked you,” Beomgyu said firmly, lifting his gaze. “Like I’ve said from the beginning, all of this was just an alliance to me. I’m really sorry. You deserve someone better than me.”

Silence, once again. Jimin didn’t say anything for a while—until he scoffed, then let out a bitter laugh. They stood there in the quiet space, the tension thick between them.

Without warning, Jimin punched the tree right beside Beomgyu’s head. Beomgyu didn’t flinch—he just looked down, shoulders trembling slightly as he heard Jimin exhale through gritted teeth.

“All because of that boy. Fucking Choi Yeonjun, huh?” Jimin’s glare burned into him. “I should’ve known. You’re just some obsessed freak who’ll defend him no matter what—no matter how he treats you, how much he hates you. He said it right to your face, and you still refuse to accept reality.”

Beomgyu wouldn’t deny it. He would keep defending Yeonjun at any time despite anything, because he wasn't wrong. Anyone who spoke ill of Yeonjun—he wouldn’t accept that, no matter what.

“You don’t know anything about us, so shut your mouth,” Beomgyu warned, shoving Jimin back by the chest. “Do whatever you want—with the gang, with everything. I’m leaving this place. But don’t you dare touch my friends. Or Yeonjun. Unless you don’t want to see the sun tomorrow.”

Jimin looked up at Beomgyu, almost with hatred. "You're ending this alliance here, which means I won't be protecting you or any of your little friends anymore—" he stepped closwr. "—especially you. No more special treatment, got it?" 

Beomgyu held his composure, though his head trembled slightly as he met Jimin's eyes. "You got that right, we're ending it all here. Thank you, mark my words."

He turned and walked away—eyes red, hands trembling—but his back straight.

He didn’t look back.

He would be leaving everything.

To Daegu.