Archive of Our Own ^beta

Comeback season means a tightrope walk between a tight schedule and the slow decay of sleep. Today is no different. The practice room still holds the lingering energy of their whirlwind day, a faint echo of the fansign and fancall. Yeonjun's styled outfit is slightly rumpled from the rushed car ride back to the company, but he doesn't notice. The other members have scattered like windblown leaves. Soobin had gone to a meeting, Taehyun and Kai to a studio, or a momentary escape to a quiet corner for a quick breather.

Then, there is Beomgyu, suddenly just there, sitting cross-legged on the bench near the sound system, scrolling through his phone. Yeonjun hasn't even heard the younger member come in until he looks up through the mirror reflection when he hears a Japanese song playing on repeat, the same particular part. He assumes Beomgyu is watching TikTok, but what video is he watching that has him replaying the same part over and over?

"Hyung." There it is. That tone. A note so perfectly pitched it could probably get Yeonjun to hand over a kidney if asked nicely enough.

"What?" Yeonjun groans, a reflex protest. But his body, a traitorous thing with zero self-preservation, is already turning fully toward the source of the sound.

"So there was this fan today." Beomgyu looks up from his phone, his eyes sparkling with a mischief that always seems to find its way to Yeonjun's heart. "Really cute girl, probably around our age? Anyway, she asked me something during the fancall."

Yeonjun feels his stomach do a weird, fluttering flip. "Yeah? What'd she want?"

"She requested more selcas of us together." Beomgyu stretches like a languid cat, casual and unbothered. "Said the fans have been asking for ages, but we're always too busy."

"We are busy." 

"I know." Beomgyu pushes himself up, moving closer to Yeonjun. "But I was thinking we could kill two birds with one stone. There's that trend that's been going around. You know the one where someone acts all cool and nonchalant while the other person dances behind them?"

It's a trap. Yeonjun can see it coming from a mile away, a perfectly baited snare, and like a blinded idiot, he walks right into it anyway. 

"Let me guess," he says, his voice a weak surrender. "I'm the nonchalant one."

"Bingo!" Beomgyu grins, and Yeonjun feels a flush creep up his neck, a betraying little snitch of heat. "You're going to be the guy pretending he doesn't care while I do the cute dancing."

"Why do I have to be the one who does that?" The question comes out more whiny than Yeonjun would ever admit. Honestly, his dignity left the building the moment Beomgyu smiles.

"Let me think." Beomgyu pretends to ponder, stepping even closer until Yeonjun can count the fine sweep of his eyelashes, "Because you're a tsundere who pretends like you don't care about me, when we both know you're absolutely whipped for me."

Yeonjun's mouth falls open like a broken garage door to his thoughts. The accusation hits too close to home, striking at the very core of what he's been trying so hard to hide or at least, what he thought he's been hiding. 

His instinct is to deny it, to scoff and brush off Beomgyu's words like he always does. He has responses, okay? Devastating comebacks, perfectly poised to put Beomgyu in his place and restore some semblance of his hyung authority. 

But then Beomgyu throws a look at him, a glare sharp as glass, unwavering, and somehow both challenging and fond at the same time. It's a stare that sees right through all of Yeonjun's defenses and calls it what it is. Brutally calling out his bullshit. The same stare that has gotten Yeonjun to agree to late-night dinner at the usual restaurant they used to hangout during trainee days, to sharing his favorite snacks, to letting Beomgyu steal his clothes without complaint. The look that says I know exactly what you're going to say, and I also know exactly how this is going to end. Every counter-argument dies on Yeonjun's tongue, a chorus of words that flatlines before they can even form.

"This is so unfair," Yeonjun laments, a petulant attempt to argue, but he's already feeling himself giving in.

"What's unfair?" Beomgyu challenges, tilting his head with a show of fake innocence.

Everything , Yeonjun wants to say. It's unfair that you know exactly how to play me. It's unfair that loving you makes me this weak. It's unfair that the fans have noticed what I was trying so hard to keep hidden.

How foolish of him to have handed Beomgyu the power and control over him. The fans call him many names, and fondjun is one of them. He's aware of it, and that awareness is born from his own mistakes, from a thousand tiny avowals for fans with keen intellects to notice.

Confessing he would unconsciously smile whenever he sees Beomgyu's smile was definitely not a good move. Revealing, though not obviously, in one video back when they were still new to the industry, that Beomgyu was his favorite member. It was just a gesture, a simple rubbing on Beomgyu's thigh that had been caught on tape. But the gesture itself had spoken more than words ever could. The cameras, of course, caught it all — the shattering of his cool facade he tried so hard to preserve.

There was also that one time when he'd admitted — why had he admitted it? — that he'd want to be with Beomgyu when the world was ending. The words had slipped out so naturally, so honestly, that he hadn't realized what he'd revealed until it was too late.

And his damn cheekbones, circling and rounding up, rising like buns baking in the oven whenever Beomgyu does something that makes him smile. He's become hyperaware of his own face, how it betrays him at every turn. 

One look from Beomgyu is enough for him to give in. He can probably count on his fingers how many times he has truly rejected Beomgyu's requests, and he fears it never reaches all ten of his fingers.

"You know I can see right through you," Beomgyu chimes in quietly, his voice losing some of its playful edge. "You also know that I use it to get what I want."

Yeonjun looks at him and notices something vulnerable in Beomgyu's expression. Maybe he isn't the only one who feels exposed.

"You're always so shameless about it," Yeonjun counters, but there is no real accusation in his voice.

"It works every single time." Beomgyu shrugs. "Because you let me."

Love makes a person incapable of thinking with clear thoughts, Yeonjun reflects. Devotion makes one want to give anything to the person who owns their heart.

Not that he was ready to call it that. Not out loud, anyway.

What comes next is not another denial, but a faint sigh and acquiescence, "Fine. I'll do that stupid trend."

"Stupid" because he knows he'll screw it up before the recording begins.

Beomgyu's entire face beams with delight. "Really? You'll actually do it?"

"Don't make me change my mind," Yeonjun tries to sound exasperated for his own pride, but his cheekbones are already doing that betraying thing again, puffing up despite his best efforts to look annoyed. And honestly? As Beomgyu practically vibrates with excitement, Yeonjun realizes he'd probably agree to a lot worse if it meant seeing that smile directed at him.

"You're the best, hyung!" Beomgyu launches himself forward, wrapping his arms around Yeonjun's waist in an enthusiastic hug.

Yeonjun stood there for a moment, arms suspended in the air, before finally giving in and hugging back. "Yeah, yeah. Just don't make me regret this."

But even as he says it, Yeonjun knows he won't regret it. He never regrets anything when it comes to making Beomgyu smile like that.

Even if it means admitting silently, to himself, that maybe the fans were right about him after all.

Love really does make fools of them all. And Yeonjun is living proof.

Beomgyu reaches for his phone in his pocket. "Ready to show MOA just how nonchalant you can be?"

Yeonjun sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Let's get this over with."

・・・・・

Twenty minutes later, after trial and error for the umpteenth time, their manager finally says the video is perfect enough to be posted.

"Alright, I'll do some quick editing and get this posted," he says, already heading for the door. "Should be up on the official account in the next two days."

The manager leaves. The door clicks shut. Quiet settles around them.

Beomgyu's hand is still on Yeonjun's chest from their final pose. It starts to slip away, but not before his fingers press in one last time for a second. Just enough to make it obvious. Because he can. They both know he gets away with things like that.

If anything, Yeonjun pretends not to notice, though he feels the warmth climbing his neck fast, blooming under his skin. He probably looks like he's wearing stage blush, but this one's real.

Beomgyu grins, a playful tone slipping into his voice. "You weren't supposed to smile, you know. The whole point was to act cool while I danced."

Yeonjun is aware of it. The plan was simple: stand still, look bored, maybe check his nails while Beomgyu did something adorable behind him.

He reached up and scratched his cheek just as the music started. His gaze shifted off to the side, nowhere in particular, pretending to be distracted. It was part of the act. He had seen other idols do the same in this trend. 

Then Beomgyu started to dance. He didn't hold back, not even a little. His face lit up with every move, full of energy, playful and bright. He pulled cute expressions without hesitation, eyes sparkling, lips curled into a pout as he moved to the song. 

Yeonjun tried to stay in character. He kept his head down and his expression neutral, doing everything he could to stay still. But curiosity tugged at him. Just once, he looked up at the mirror in front of them.

That ruined everything.

Yeonjun looked back down immediately. He pressed his lips together and tried to stay focused, but the edges of his mouth were already starting to lift. He held his breath, trying to swallow it down. The smile tugged at his lips anyway, soft and slow and completely unwilling.

And came the final pose.

Beomgyu slid both arms around him in a full backhug, pressing close without hesitation. His chin nearly rested on Yeonjun's shoulder. He held up two fingers in a V sign and smiled at the camera like he had just won something. Maybe he had.

Yeonjun didn't fight it anymore. The smile broke through, wide and genuine, and he let it stay there. He made the same V sign, waving to the camera. He didn't care if the camera caught everything. In that moment, staying in character felt pointless. Beomgyu had made it impossible.

"I wasn't smiling." Another lie rolling off his tongue. His bottom lip jutted out into a pout.

"You looked like this." Beomgyu steps back, copies Yeonjun's expression, making his eyes look soft, lips twitching into a smile.

"I did not."

"You so did." Beomgyu laughs, light and bright. "You looked like I was a puppy learning tricks."

Yeonjun groans and covers his face. "The fans are gonna catch that, aren't they?"

Beomgyu laughs. "They will make so many edits of you being so down bad for me."

Yeonjun's shoulder slumped in shame.

"You like me too much, don't you?" Comes Beomgyu's question after a moment.

Yeonjun's heart leaps into his throat. He looks up and sees Beomgyu is checking him out, his gaze purposely lingering on him, trailing slowly from Yeonjun's sneakers all the way up to his face. The act of his tongue darting out to wet his lips feels both unintentional and entirely deliberate, a spark that makes Yeonjun's stomach flip. 

Beomgyu is only stating the obvious, isn't he? Pointing out what they both already know. Yeonjun feels himself preening under the attention despite his embarrassment, his chin dipping down as his gaze drops to his shoes. Much safer to study the scuffed edges of his sneakers than to meet those knowing eyes. 

Then he hears it. That laugh that he would recognize everywhere. It's a deep baritone, but with that little crack at the end that always happens when Beomgyu finds something particularly amusing. And that subject of amusement happens to be Yeonjun himself. 

"I love when you don't argue," Beomgyu says, his voice still bubbling with laughter. 

A crease shaping Yeonjun's forehead, his brows drawing together, almost merging into one line of mock indignation. 

Beomgyu's face broke into a soft smile that carves a perfect dent into his cheek and never fails to catch Yeonjun's attention. His dimples are one of the things the older likes about him.

The faux tension on Yeonjun's face melts instantly, replaced by a smile on his lips, and his siren eyes crinkle at the corners, the skin beneath them lifting with the force of it. 

"You're happy?" He scoffs.

Beomgyu nods, and when he nods happily like that, his eyes usually blink in rhythm as if nodding too. He moves, stepping closer to Yeonjun, bringing his arms up to rest on Yeonjun's shoulders. Yeonjun's hands instinctively find their rightful place on Beomgyu's waist, navigating him closer, magnets finding their matching poles. 

As though pulled by gravity itself, Yeonjun's head tilts down, rubbing their noses together and drawing a soft laugh from Beomgyu. It's a sound that Yeonjun knows he will never get enough of. 

"Why can't I ever pretend with you?" Yeonjun whispers, his breath warm against Beomgyu's skin. 

Beomgyu's laughter dies down, replaced by a serious, thoughtful look. He pulls back just enough to meet Yeonjun's eyes. "Do you really want me to answer that?" 

Yeonjun wonders what he means. 

"Hyung," Beomgyu calls. "What if we stop pretending? What if we stop pretending we don't want to be so much more than whatever we are now? What if we stop making out only for fun when we can do all that with our true feelings involved?" 

Yeonjun's heart pounds against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat of hope and fear. This is everything he's ever wanted.

They had kissed before. In fact, so many times and more than just making out. It started that night after their music show win, when they were drunk on soju and adrenaline and the intoxicating rush of success. Beomgyu had asked him, voice soft with curiosity and liquid courage, if he'd ever kissed a man before. When Yeonjun admitted he had, Beomgyu's question came out almost timid, wondering if Yeonjun would want to try it with him. Yeonjun had said yes, but not before asking if Beomgyu was really certain about what he was asking. The quiet "yes" that followed had been the beginning of everything.

What began as tentative experimentation of two young men navigating their sexuality in the strange, insular world of idol life had somehow become something else entirely. Something normal that they both crave but never talk about. Stolen kisses in empty practice rooms, soft morning kisses when they wake up tangled together after movie nights, desperate kisses when the weight of their careers feels too heavy to bear alone.

They have laid out an agreement born from mutual understanding and without the need to say it, that they can always pretend it was just convenience;two friends helping each other through loneliness. They can laugh it off, brush it aside, never acknowledge the way their hearts race or how they start seeking each other out more and more.

But they both know. The fondness between them has grown into something too big to ignore, too precious to keep hiding behind the excuse of friendship. They exist in this beautiful, terrifying bubble where they can have almost everything they want as long as they never say it out loud.

There's this doubt: What if they were wrong? Maybe one of them had misread the tender looks, the lingering touches, the way they fit together like they were made for each other. What if speaking the truth would shatter everything they'd built?

That must have been why they'd stayed silent for so long, content to live in the space between friendship and something more.

Now, they realize, it is time to drop the act.

"I want that," Yeonjun's confession spills out breathless. He has kept his heart locked in a vault that only Beomgyu holds the key to. "Fuck, Gyu, I've been dreaming of that."

It feels like stepping off a cliff, terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

"You have?" Beomgyu's voice echoes with wonder and disbelief.

"From the moment I realized I'd been looking at you as more than just my group member, more than a dongsaeng I adored." Another confession flows like water breaking through a dam, his honesty raw and unguarded now that the floodgates have opened. "I dream about kissing you and actually meaning it. I dream about being able to touch you without having to come up with excuses. You don't even want to know the rest of it..." He trails off, heat painting his cheeks crimson.

Yeonjun feels a soft touch on his chin. Beomgyu's fingers holding it, nudges him to meet his eyes.

"I want to," says Beomgyu, sliding his thumb against Yeonjun's bottom lip. "Everything. Tell me."

"I want to wake beside you when dawn breaks and not have to pretend my heart doesn't sing at the sight of you," Yeonjun whispers, his voice soft as prayer. "I ache to hold your hand not as a friend stealing moments, but as someone who belongs to you. I want to look at you the way my soul has been begging me to."

"And how's that?"

"I want to look at you like you're the center of my universe." His words flowing freely now. "Like every sunrise exists just to light up your face. You're not just important to me, you're essential as breathing and heartbeats. I'm tired of loving you in the shadows when I want to love you in sunlight."

Beomgyu's smile bloomed, dimples carving sweet crescents into his cheeks as he drew closer, close enough that Yeonjun could count his eyelashes.

"You know what's beautiful?" His breath warm as summer against Yeonjun's lips. "I've been carrying the exact same dreams."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Except in mine, you finally stop being so afraid of your own heart and just let yourself feel what's already there."

Yeonjun's laugh is fragile as spun glass. "Consider my heart officially surrendered. I'm completely, utterly yours, Choi Beomgyu."

"Thank god," Beomgyu whispers. "I've been yours since the moment we met, and I was starting to think you'd never see it."

"I saw it," Yeonjun says. "I was just terrified."

"What are you terrified of?"

"If you only knew how my soul aches for you, Gyu. Not a day passes where I don't wonder what would happen if we finally crossed this invisible line we've been tracing around each other." Words that used to be his soliloquy now delivered openly with true intent.

"We already crossed it," Beomgyu says, his words cutting through Yeonjun's spiral of insecurity. "All this time, we've been living like we belong to each other, but we're just too stubborn to name it for what it is."

It does sound simple and inevitable when Beomgyu puts it that way. It feels as if their fate has been written in the stars long before they were born.

"Now, I need to ask you something properly."

"Okay," Yeonjun says, his hand rising to smooth the hair back from Beomgyu's face.

"Do you want to be my boyfriend, or do you want to keep living in this beautiful lie we've created?" There's tremor in Beomgyu's voice, forcing him to clear his throat. "Because I'm exhausted from pretending my heart doesn't belong to you. I'll step back if this isn't what you want, but I need to know."

Yeonjun feels his heart take flight, soaring on wings of pure relief, though anxiety still whispers at the edges, afraid that one wrong word could make Beomgyu slip through his fingers like morning mist.

"Yes," he breathes, the feelings he's held captive finally breaks free. "Yes. I want to be your boyfriend more than anything. Fuck, I want to be yours more than I want to breathe."

Beomgyu's expression transforms, luminous as dawn breaking over mountains, more radiant than every stage spotlight that's ever found them. Before Yeonjun can say more, arms wind around his neck, pulling him into an embrace like starlight guiding him home after years of wandering in the dark forest of doubt.

Yeonjun responds without thought, his arms encircling Beomgyu's waist and lifting him until his feet barely graze the ground. The smile that blooms across his face is so wide it reshapes his entire being, stretching until he must look wonderfully ridiculous, but he's gone way beyond caring.

He's grinning because love has made him drunk, holding onto his boyfriend — his boyfriend, his heart sings — as if letting go would mean losing gravity itself. All those months of careful distance dissolved into this moment of pure, unguarded joy. He finally feels the liberty of loving someone with all of his heart.

"I can feel you smiling," Beomgyu laughs against his neck, voice muffled by happiness and skin.

"Can't contain it anymore," Yeonjun murmurs back, his smile somehow growing impossibly wider. "I'm too full of my love for you to hide anything."

They remain suspended in this bubble of newfound truth, holding each other like they're the last two people in the world, both dizzy with the intoxication of finally being honest. Yeonjun's cheeks ache sweetly from smiling, but he feels as though he could move mountains, could paint the sky, could do anything as long as Beomgyu keeps looking at him like he's something precious.

When they finally create space between them, Beomgyu's hands rise to cradle his face, thumbs tracing the crescents his smile has carved into his cheeks.

"You're so beautiful when you smile like that," Beomgyu whispers. "I'm offering you half of everything I am."

"Then we'll finally be complete." Comes Yeonjun's reply. "Because I've been carrying the other half, waiting for the right time to give it to you."

Beomgyu's soft lips find his.

This kiss tastes different than the previous ones, laced with certainty and the promise of all their tomorrows. Yeonjun melts into it completely, drawing Beomgyu closer, merging their bodies and souls together.

When they surface for air, they're both trembling with soft laughter, euphoric and so achingly happy it feels like they're floating among the clouds.

"So," Yeonjun begins, "I guess we're really writing this story together now."

"We are," Beomgyu confirms, his eyes are sparkling constellations. "You're mine now, officially and completely."

"Yours. Always yours," Yeonjun says, almost in disbelief. He steals another kiss because he can, because love has given him permission to be greedy. 

Yeonjun thinks he's never been more grateful to stop pretending in his entire existence.