Chapter Text
After the final bell rings, Yeonjun considers just walking straight home instead of taking the bus. For once since he’s come to this town, it’s not raining, and it looked like the sun might come out from all the grey. But he’s barely made it two steps outside the school gates when—
“Yeonjun!”
He freezes.
Beomgyu jogs up beside him, grinning. His hoodie’s still on under his blazer, and now the sleeves are pushed up to his elbows. His hair’s even messier than before, like he’s been running fingers through it all day. The sight sends a weird flutter through Yeonjun’s chest.
“Thought you were ditching me,” Beomgyu says, mock-pouting.
“I— no, I wasn’t,” Yeonjun insists quickly. “I just… I’m sorry, I forgot.”
Beomgyu chuckles. “Forgot we were gonna get ice cream? How could you?” He says playfully-mad.
Yeonjun flushes. “I didn’t forget! I just… okay. I might’ve been nervous.”
Beomgyu pauses mid-step.
“Nervous? Why?” He frowns.
Because you’re cool, and popular, and you talk to everyone like it’s nothing. Because I have no idea what I’m doing and I still don’t know why you’re being so nice to me, Yeonjun wants to say.
“…I just don’t usually do stuff like this,” Yeonjun says instead.
Beomgyu tilts his head, considering.
“Okay. Well. First time for everything, right?” He spins his keys around his finger. “Come on. I got dropped off today, so I stole Soobin hyung’s car. We’ve got wheels.”
“Stole?”
“Borrowed.” Beomgyu winks. “I mean… his car keys were just there, you know?”
—
The drive is… quiet at first.
Yeonjun sits stiffly in the passenger seat, hands clasped in his lap, only sneaking glances at Beomgyu when he’s sure the omega’s not looking. The car smells like cherries and whatever hair product Beomgyu uses.
Beomgyu hums along to a song on the radio. He even drums his fingers on the wheel. Like driving and hanging out and being liked comes effortlessly to him. (It probably does.)
Yeonjun fiddles with the zipper of his jacket.
“So, um… what kind of ice cream do you like?”
Beomgyu glances at him, smiling. “Ooh, we’re doing small talk now?”
Yeonjun blinks. “I—”
“I’m kidding,” Beomgyu laughs, his expression growing softer and less teasing. “I like anything with chocolate chips in it. Cookie dough’s top tier. Or mint choco, but that one’s controversial.”
“…I like cookie dough too.”
“That’s it,” Beomgyu says, face lighting up again. “We’re officially besties. You have good taste.”
Yeonjun blinks.
Besties?
And then he smiles down at his hands.
Besties. Yeah… he liked the sound of that.
—
They end up at a tiny ice cream place a few streets away from school. There’s barely anyone else inside. Beomgyu orders a double scoop of cookie dough and immediately takes a huge bite.
“Brain freeze!” he yells through a mouthful, clutching his forehead.
Yeonjun can’t help it— he laughs. Beomgyu’s scrunched up nose is adorable, and he pouts at Beomgyu when he laughs.
“My misery is funny, is that it?” He squints.
Yeonjun stops laughing.
“No, of course not—” He panics.
“Relax, Yeonjun hyung. I’m kidding.” Beomgyu says. “Wait, what did you get again?”
Yeonjun holds up his strawberry ice cream on the waffle cone.
“Strawberry. They ran out of cookie dough.” He says.
Beomgyu frowns.
“Oof— sorry, I think I was the one who took it all. You want some of mine?” He offers, holding the cone out in front of Yeonjun.
With the cookie dough ice cream. That he took a bit out of already.
“I—“ Yeonjun malfunctions.
Beomgyu just laughs again and pulls out his phone.
“I’m kidding, hyung. I mean, if you want it, I can but I don’t think you do. Okay… Here,” he says, thrusting his phone toward Yeonjun. “Number?”
Yeonjun’s heart stutters.
“Oh. Uh— yeah. Sure.”
His fingers are embarrassingly sweaty as he types in his number. Beomgyu immediately sends him a text— “💛🍦”— and Yeonjun catches a glimpse of his contact name saved as Yeonjun hyung.
Yeonjun stares at the text on his phone.
“Don’t delete it,” Beomgyu warns, still grinning. “You’re stuck with me now.”
“I wouldn’t,” Yeonjun says, softly, and fiddles around to change the Unknown Number to Beomgyu.
It’s a bit hard to believe that loner him had suddenly gained the attention of popular Beomgyu— and was out here eating ice cream with him and that he was friends with him now. And he got Beomgyu’s number (well… Beomgyu got his number, really).
Beomgyu suddenly perks up. “Hey! The school basketball game’s tonight! Wanna go?”
Yeonjun blinks.
“You mean like… with people?” He asks— sounding pathetic to himself. He wishes he could take those embarrassing words back.
Beomgyu squints at him. “…That’s generally how school sports work, yes.”
Yeonjun panics. He’s never been to a school game before. Crowds? People screaming? Stuffed gyms and flashing lights and social expectations? He’s a loner— been one since practically forever— no, no, he doesn’t do all that, going and hanging out with school classmates.
But Beomgyu is looking at him with those hopeful, wide eyes.
I can’t say no, Yeonjun thinks grimly. I literally don’t have the capacity to say no to this boy. Fuck.
“…Sure,” he says weakly.
Beomgyu fist-pumps. “Nice! Let’s go now then, we can’t be late to Heeseung and Ni-ki’s game, right?”
—
The gym is total chaos.
Kids cram into bleachers, some wearing school colors, some waving signs with glittery paint, others just screaming because it’s Friday and it’s their school’s sports game and this is what school spirit is supposed to look like.
Yeonjun stands frozen just inside the entrance, eyes wide.
Beomgyu grabs his wrist.
“Come on! Don’t just stand there, newbie hyung.”
Yeonjun lets himself get dragged. Beomgyu waves at half a dozen people on the way in— students, teachers, someone’s mom— and even high-fives the guy manning the popcorn machine. He really is the popular— maybe not just with the whole school, but the whole town.
“How do you know so many people?” Yeonjun mutters as they finally sit.
Beomgyu shrugs, flashing a grin.
“I’m really extroverted. Plus, I grew up here and these are all people I’ve seen around— they know me and I know them.”
Yeonjun’s pretty sure that much is obvious.
On the court, White Rose’s team is doing drills. Heeseung jogs across the court, hsi new bright red hair tied back with a sweatband, while Ni-ki chucks basketballs at the wall with great force. There’s a rhythm to it— squeak of shoes, thud of bouncing, whistles and cheers. It’s… actually pretty fun to watch them.
And Yeonjun would be more focused on watching, if not for the body pressed against his side (the gym was too packed for personal space anymore), Beomgyu’s warmth seeping into Yeonjun’s side and his laugh practically rumbling into Yeonjun’s ear. He’s so… close. For a fleeting second, Yeonjun wonders what would happen if he— no. He shouldn’t. He can’t.
Then Foxwood’s team enters— and the vibe of the gym changes immediately.
Their uniforms are darker. They look more aggressive, more matured, more angry. One of them shoulders past Ni-ki unnecessarily hard and the white-blond stumbles, with tomato-hair Heeseung steadying him while glaring at the Foxwood player.
Beomgyu huffs.
“Ugh. Foxwood. Watch— those guys always cheat.”
Sure enough, by the second quarter, Yeonjun watches one of the Foxwood forwards very obviously elbow a White Rose player in the ribs when the ref isn’t looking, and gets the ball again.
“See?” Beomgyu says, arms crossed. “That was foul. That was so a foul.”
Another play later, and Ni-ki gets tripped on a rebound— but the ref waves it off again.
“They’re letting everything slide,” Beomgyu mutters. “Typical. That ref’s probably from Foxwood or something.”
Yeonjun glances at him. His brows are furrowed, but there’s a spark in his eye, too— a fire of loyalty, of passion. It burns brightly in his eyes, his happy sparkle replaced with sheer burn.
It’s kind of… adorable like this too.
Yeonjun looks back at the court, where Heeseung is lining up at the three-point line, breathing hard. His red hair sticks to his sweat-covered forehead and he looks very out of breath, and a little mad.
“C’mon…” Beomgyu whispers under his breath, but he’s so close that it’s like he’s saying it right into Yeonjun’s ear.
Yeonjun finds himself whispering it too, despite not really knowing what was going on— other than the fact that Foxwood was cheating and White Rose’s chances of winning were slim.
“C’mon.”
The gym pulses. The buzzer sounds. And the ball sails—
Straight into the net.
The crowd erupts.
Beomgyu jumps to his feet, cheering wildly, and Yeonjun stares up at him, dazed.
Beomgyu turns, and grabs Yeonjun’s sleeve.
“Oh my god! That was so cool, right?!”
Yeonjun nods dumbly, breathless and half-smiling. His ears are ringing from the cheers, but somehow Beomgyu’s voice cuts right through the noise, clear and bright and shining. Beomgyu’s eyes are still sparkling. He doesn’t let go of Yeonjun’s sleeve, even when he drops back down into his seat with a bounce, tugging Yeonjun along beside him.
“So, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Beomgyu asks, tilting his head and grinning like he knows the answer already.
Yeonjun shakes his head.
“No,” he murmurs, voice soft but sure. “It… it wasn’t. Thank you for bringing me along.”
Beomgyu beams, as if Yeonjun just told him he won a Grammy award or something.
“Of course! What kind of bestie would I be if I didn’t force you into social situations at least once a week? My new goal, by the way,” He nudges Yeonjun’s side. “You gotta let the rest of the school fall in love with you too, you know. Can’t keep you all to myself, right?”
Yeonjun’s heart does a weird flip at that, and he stares down at his knees because what was he supposed to say to that?!
“I… I don’t think anyone’s gonna fall in love with me,” he says awkwardly.
Beomgyu hums thoughtfully. “You’d be surprised.”
Yeonjun looks up, startled, but Beomgyu’s already twisting around again to wave at someone a few rows up— someone from the drama club, maybe, judging by her shirt, who gives him a double thumbs-up.
“Oh my gosh!” Beomgyu turns toward him suddenly, practically bouncing in his seat. “I almost forgot— next week, we have our Spring Carnival—i t’s like our school’s annual spring festival— and my band is performing! It would be literally so awesome if you came to watch us.”
“I still can’t believe you’re a popular boy and you play in a band.” Yeonjuns says. “I heard it’s also an official band outside of school… and you have a lot of albums on Dotify.”
Beomgyu beams like the compliment just made his whole week.
“You’ll come, right?” he asks, voice slipping into something just a little more shy, like maybe it actually matters to him. “I mean… even if you don’t like festivals and crowds and stuff, it’s all outside and there’s a bunch of food and booths and dumb games. And you don’t have to talk to anyone but me, I promise.”
That last part is what does Yeonjun in.
He looks at Beomgyu— a ray of sunlight in a gym full of flickering artificial lights, someone who smiles like it’s muscle memory and grabs Yeonjun’s wrist without a second thought, the warmth seeping into Yeonjun’s skin— and there’s really only one thing he can say.
“…Yeah. I’ll come.”
Beomgyu’s grin splits wide. “Yes! You won’t regret it, hyung. I’ll make sure you win at least one plushie. Or three.”
Yeonjun chuckles under his breath. “You’re really confident.”
Beomgyu leans close, whispering conspiratorially.
“I may or may not have rigged the milk bottle toss game last year. Don’t tell.” He puts a finger to his lips in a ‘hush’ motion.
“I won’t,” Yeonjun promises with a small laugh.
—
Yeonjun lies on his stomach in bed, the hem of his hoodie bunched up under his ribs and his legs lazily swinging behind him. The blankets are kicked off and half the lights are still on, but he doesn’t care. His room is warmer now, somehow— less like a place he crashed into, more like one he’s settling into finally.
All the boxes that once packed the room are finally unpacked, broken down, tucked away where they belonged. His books are stacked neatly on the little shelf by the window. His desk isn’t perfect— papers still scattered and one drawer won’t close all the way (he suspects he broke it during the move)— but there’s no more clutter on the floor. There’s space now, which is great for him and his problem with not being able to find anything that had existed for a few days too many.
He didn’t even realize how cramped it had felt until now, stretched out like this with the overhead fan whirring and no cardboard towers watching him from every corner.
His phone buzzes beside him.
Beomgyu
made it home! almost got in trouble for “stealing” soobin hyung’s car but i told him u were my accomplice so now we’re both wanted criminals. congrats 🤝
Yeonjun snorts, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
He doesn’t hesitate to type back.
Yeonjun
it was a borrowed getaway vehicle. we’re innocent.
Beomgyu responds instantly.
Beomgyu
tell that to soobin hyung’s frowny face and hands on his hips pose
Yeonjun huffs out a laugh, burying half his face in his pillow. He’s still smiling when the next message comes through.
Beomgyu
Hey
thanks for coming tonight
really. it was fun with u there.
Yeonjun stares at that one a little longer.
It’s simple. Not overthought. Probably sent without hesitation.
But it hits him square in the chest.
His thumbs hover over the keyboard before he finally types.
Yeonjun
thanks for inviting me
i had fun too. really.
He pauses. Then adds, before he can second-guess it.
you made it easy.
There’s a longer delay this time. Then:
😳 hyung stop i’m gonna cry
ur stuck with me forever now ok?
u don’t get a say btw.
Yeonjun bites back another grin. His chest feels full in a way he can’t name.
Yeonjun
…okay
i’ll keep the plushies you win me though. that’s non-negotiable.
Beomgyu
DEAL 🤝
Yeonjun finally sets the phone down beside him, lips stretched out in a big smile. It’s been a while since he smiled so hard like this. His eyes drifted closed. The room is quiet, the night is calm, and for the first time since moving here, he doesn’t feel like he’s missing something.
He has friends. (Okay well, no, he has one friend.)
He has Beomgyu.
And right now, that feels like enough.