Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The rain hadn’t been in the forecast. At least, not according to Soobin, who had checked three different weather apps before packing for their weekend trip. The boys had been looking forward to this countryside escape for weeks—a rare chance to breathe away from rehearsals, cameras, and endless schedules. But now thunder rolled over the hills, shaking the windows of the small inn, and Yeonjun sat back in his seat, watching raindrops race each other down the glass of the car door.
“Of course it starts pouring the second we get here,” Beomgyu groaned, tugging his hood up before anyone else moved.
Taehyun only shook his head, practical as always, and pushed the door open. “Come on. Bags first, complaining later.”
Huening Kai followed with a grin, hopping into the rain like it was a game, grabbing his duffel from the trunk. Beomgyu dragged his feet behind them, muttering something about his hair being ruined, before finally trudging after.
Soobin was the last to step out, pulling his jacket tighter around himself as the rain soaked his sleeves. He winced at the thought of damp clothes sticking for the rest of the evening, but there was no choice—the inn was only a short sprint away.
By the time they all made it inside, dripping onto the wooden floorboards, they were greeted by a kind-faced woman at the front desk. She welcomed them in warmly, but her smile faltered as she glanced at her computer screen.
“I’m terribly sorry,” she said, tone apologetic. “We’ve had a booking error. It looks like we only have two rooms left.”
Soobin’s stomach dropped. He felt his ears heating even before she finished explaining.
“What rooms?” he managed to ask.
“One king suite and one double,” she replied, wincing as though bracing herself for complaints.
The boys exchanged quick looks. No one spoke at first, the rain hammering against the windows filling the silence.
Finally, Taehyun broke it. “It’s fine. I don’t mind sharing with two of you.”
“Me either,” Huening Kai chimed in, always easygoing.
Beomgyu sighed dramatically, tossing his wet hair back. “Guess I don’t have a choice, do I?”
And just like that, the decision was made—Taehyun, Kai, and Beomgyu would share the king suite, while Soobin and Yeonjun took the double.
The arrangement shouldn’t have been awkward—they’d shared rooms countless times before. Back in their trainee days, privacy was a luxury no one had. But things were different now. They’d grown, they’d gotten used to space, and… there was the other complication.
As they parted ways in the hallway, Soobin fumbled with the keycard and opened their door. The room was small, with creaky floorboards and a single double bed pushed neatly against the wall. He walked inside and let himself fall face-first onto the mattress with a muted sigh.
“Hyung, it’s fine,” he mumbled, shifting as if the bed itself made him nervous. “We’ve… shared before.”
Yeonjun lingered at the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, smirk tugging at his lips. “Not like this, Bunny. That was five people fighting for floor space and blankets. This…” His eyes flicked deliberately to the bed. “…is different.”
Soobin busied himself with his bag, avoiding Yeonjun’s gaze. He thought if he stayed quiet, the heat in his cheeks might fade, but he could already feel Yeonjun’s stare pressing into his back. That was the problem with being around him—Yeonjun noticed everything.
Soobin’s shoulders always betrayed him when he was tense, his fingers fidgeted when he wanted to speak but couldn’t, and his eyes softened too easily when he cared. Yeonjun had gotten frighteningly good at reading all of it.
But there was one thing Yeonjun hadn’t figured out yet: Soobin’s love language.
They’d been together in secret for months now, carefully tucked behind the chaos of their careers. A brush of hands in a rehearsal room, an arm slung casually around shoulders when no one was looking, a stolen glance across the stage lights. Yeonjun knew how Soobin brightened under praise, how his lips curled at thoughtful gestures—but he still didn’t know what made him feel most loved. Was it words? Was it touch? Was it simply time spent together?
“Hey.” Yeonjun’s voice softened as he stepped further into the room. He reached out, brushing damp bangs away from Soobin’s forehead. “You’re shivering. Did you even dry your hair?”
Soobin blinked up at him, caught off guard, wide-eyed and defensive. “I… forgot.”
Of course he had. Soobin was always worrying about everyone else, never himself.
Yeonjun sighed, tugging lightly at his sleeve. “Sit. I’ll grab a towel.”
“But—”
“No buts. You’ll catch a cold, and then Beomgyu will complain that I let it happen.”
Soobin let himself be pulled toward the bed, cheeks warming as Yeonjun returned with a towel. He knelt in front of him, carefully patting and ruffling his hair dry. His touch was gentle, deliberate—almost delicate.
Soobin sat still for a moment, then slowly, without thinking, leaned into the warmth. His chest ached in a way he didn’t quite know how to name.
Yeonjun tried not to grin at the sight. Maybe… maybe Soobin’s love language was touch after all.
But when Soobin whispered, “Thanks, hyung,” his voice carrying a weight that felt heavier than gratitude, Yeonjun wasn’t so sure anymore.
Yeonjun kept toweling at Soobin’s hair until it stuck up in uneven tufts, soft strands springing loose. Soobin let out a quiet huff, trying to smooth them down, but Yeonjun only laughed.
“Don’t,” Yeonjun teased, his grin widening. “It’s cute.”
Soobin froze, ears burning. Compliments from Yeonjun always carried more weight than they should. He ducked his head quickly, pretending to search through his bag. “You’re annoying.”
“Mm, maybe,” Yeonjun replied easily, standing and tossing the damp towel onto a chair. “But I’m also right.”
The silence that followed was heavier than it should have been. Outside, rain pattered against the window, thunder rolling far off. The old inn creaked as if it, too, were listening.
Soobin shifted on the bed, suddenly too aware of how small the room was. There was nowhere to look that didn’t end with his eyes brushing Yeonjun’s figure. Nowhere to go but the mattress beneath him.
Yeonjun, meanwhile, stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed loosely as he studied him. That was the thing about Soobin—he never realized just how much he gave away in these quiet moments. The way he curled slightly inward when he was nervous, the way his lips pressed into a thin line when he wanted to speak but didn’t.
Yeonjun tilted his head, voice softer now. “You’re still cold, huh?”
Soobin shook his head too quickly. “I’m fine.”
Yeonjun didn’t buy it for a second. He toed off his shoes, tossing his jacket onto the chair, then sat down on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight, pulling Soobin a fraction closer.
“You know,” Yeonjun said casually, leaning back on his hands, “this whole ‘only one bed’ thing… it’s not so bad.”
Soobin shot him a look, scandalized. “Hyung!”
“What?” Yeonjun raised his brows, feigning innocence. “Don’t tell me you’re nervous.”
“I’m not,” Soobin lied instantly, his voice just a little too high.
Yeonjun chuckled, low and amused, but he didn’t push further. Instead, he shifted until he was lying back, staring up at the ceiling. The rain filled the quiet again, steady and rhythmic.
For a moment, it almost felt normal—two guys sharing a room on a rainy night. But beneath that, there was something electric in the air, unspoken and sharp around the edges.
Soobin lay back too, careful to keep some space between them, though the bed wasn’t exactly generous. Their shoulders almost touched, the warmth of Yeonjun’s body just there, close enough to notice.
After a long silence, Yeonjun spoke again, softer this time. “Binnie.”
Soobin turned his head slightly, eyes finding Yeonjun’s profile in the dim light. “What?”
Yeonjun didn’t look at him right away. “I’m trying to figure you out, you know. What makes you feel… loved.”
The words landed like a weight in Soobin’s chest. He swallowed, his throat suddenly tight.
“I… don’t know,” Soobin admitted quietly, voice almost drowned by the rain. “No one’s ever asked me that before.”
Yeonjun finally turned, eyes meeting his. In the stillness of the room, the storm outside faded into background noise.
“Then I guess,” Yeonjun said, voice low and certain, “I’ll just have to keep trying until I do.”
Soobin’s breath caught. He didn’t answer—he couldn’t—but the way his eyes softened, the way his hand twitched slightly on the blanket between them, gave Yeonjun more than enough.
For now, it was enough.

The rain outside softened into a steady drizzle, a rhythm against the glass that filled the silence between them. Soobin shifted slightly, tugging the blanket higher over his chest. He could feel Yeonjun watching him, though the older boy had rolled onto his side, head propped on one hand like he had no intention of sleeping anytime soon.
“You’re staring,” Soobin muttered, eyes fixed stubbornly on the ceiling.
Yeonjun’s lips curved. “I’m thinking.”
“That’s worse.”
A laugh slipped out, low and warm. “Relax, Bunny. I’m not plotting your downfall.”
Soobin turned his head just enough to give him a skeptical look. Yeonjun met it with ease, eyes bright in the dim light of the bedside lamp. There was something almost mischievous in his gaze, but beneath it lay the softness Soobin had come to recognize—something Yeonjun rarely let anyone else see.
The bed dipped as Yeonjun inched closer, though still careful to leave space. “You’re tense,” he murmured.
“I’m not,” Soobin insisted, but his voice betrayed him, quiet and defensive.
Yeonjun smirked knowingly, then—without warning—reached out and flicked his forehead.
Soobin yelped, more startled than hurt, and immediately swatted at him. “Hyung!”
“What?” Yeonjun chuckled, dodging easily. “See? You’re alive again. Not just lying there pretending to be part of the furniture.”
Soobin sat up halfway, flustered. “I wasn’t—”
But Yeonjun only grinned wider. “You’re cute when you get all serious, you know that?”
The words sent heat crawling up Soobin’s neck. He turned away quickly, muttering something under his breath that Yeonjun couldn’t quite catch.
For a while, neither spoke. Soobin lay back down, this time turned slightly toward the window, though he could still feel the warmth of Yeonjun’s presence behind him. The bed was too small to truly ignore each other. Every shift, every breath, every brush of the blanket seemed amplified.
Eventually, Yeonjun’s voice cut through the quiet again, softer this time. “Hey.”
Soobin hummed in response, eyes half-lidded.
“You’re doing that thing again,” Yeonjun said.
“What thing?”
“Pretending you’re fine when you’re not.”
Soobin stiffened, guilt flickering across his features. He hated how transparent he was with Yeonjun, how easily the older boy could peel him open.
“I’m just… tired,” he said finally.
Yeonjun didn’t argue. Instead, he reached out, hesitated for half a second, then gently tugged the blanket higher around Soobin’s shoulders. The touch was simple, almost casual, but it made Soobin’s chest tighten.
“Then sleep,” Yeonjun murmured. “I’ll be right here.”
Soobin’s eyes fluttered shut, but sleep didn’t come easily. Not with Yeonjun so close, not with his heart thudding the way it was. Still, he let the rhythm of the rain and the warmth of Yeonjun’s presence lull him into something like peace.
And Yeonjun… Yeonjun lay awake a while longer, studying the curve of Soobin’s profile in the half-light, wondering if maybe—just maybe—he was starting to figure out the answer to his own question.
The storm rolled back in after midnight, louder this time. Thunder cracked like the sky itself was splitting open, rattling the glass panes of the old inn windows. The rain hammered harder against the roof, a relentless drumming that seeped into the silence of the room.
Soobin stirred. At first, it was just a restless turn beneath the covers, a soft murmur that might have gone unnoticed. But Yeonjun, who had been drifting in and out of sleep, picked up on it immediately. He always did when it came to Soobin.
A minute later, Soobin shifted again, sharp enough to jostle the mattress. His breathing had changed—uneven, shallow, the kind that tugged at Yeonjun’s instincts.
“Soobinnie?” Yeonjun whispered into the dark. His voice was low, careful, the kind of tone you use when you don’t want to scare something fragile.
The younger boy jerked faintly, blinking open wide, glassy eyes. He looked disoriented, caught halfway between the nightmare and the waking world.
“S-sorry,” he muttered, voice hoarse. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
Yeonjun pushed himself up onto one elbow. His hair was a mess, sticking up at odd angles, but his attention was razor sharp. “You didn’t. What happened?”
Soobin hesitated. His hands were clutched tight in the blanket, twisting the fabric until his knuckles whitened. He didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. Yeonjun knew.
“Nightmare?” Yeonjun asked gently.
A beat of silence, then the smallest nod.
Yeonjun’s chest ached. Soobin was always like this—bottling things up until they threatened to spill over. Always fine until he wasn’t. And now, in the dim glow of the bedside lamp, Yeonjun could see it: the faint tremor in his shoulders, the way his gaze wouldn’t quite meet his.
The thunder boomed again, closer this time. Soobin flinched, shrinking further into himself.
Yeonjun’s hand moved almost on instinct, reaching across the space between them to rest lightly against Soobin’s arm. His palm was warm, steady. “Hey,” he murmured. “It’s just me. You’re okay.”
Soobin’s throat worked as he swallowed, his eyes darting briefly to Yeonjun’s hand. But he didn’t pull away. He let the touch anchor him, exhaling shakily like he was finally allowing himself to lean on someone else.
Without another word, Yeonjun shifted closer, lifting the edge of the blanket and sliding under it too. The mattress dipped beneath his weight, bringing him within arm’s reach. He didn’t press against Soobin, not yet—just close enough to share the warmth, close enough to be there.
“Bunny,” Yeonjun said softly, his voice half a whisper beneath the storm. “It’s only noise. I’ve got you.”
Soobin stayed tense for a moment, caught between instinct and need. But slowly, cautiously, he leaned sideways until his shoulder brushed Yeonjun’s. The contact was tentative, careful—as though he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to take up that space.
Yeonjun’s breath hitched, just barely. He adjusted without a second thought, angling his arm so that Soobin could rest more comfortably against him. The gesture was wordless but sure: you can stay here as long as you want.
“Better?” Yeonjun asked after a long pause.
Soobin hesitated again. His voice was quiet, honest in a way that stripped him bare. “…Yeah.”
The storm carried on, but the room felt different now. Quieter somehow, steadier. Soobin’s breathing gradually slowed, falling into a softer rhythm. Every exhale brushed faintly against Yeonjun’s shirt, grounding him as much as it soothed.
Yeonjun didn’t move. He didn’t dare. He lay there, hyper-aware of the warmth pressed into his side, the trust wrapped up in that small weight. Soobin never gave himself away like this to anyone else. The thought made Yeonjun’s chest tighten, both protective and achingly fond.
Minutes stretched. Soobin drifted back toward sleep, his features softening, his frown smoothing out. Yeonjun tilted his head slightly, studying him in the muted lamplight. Stray strands of hair had fallen over his forehead again, and Yeonjun’s hand twitched with the urge to brush them back.
He stopped himself. Too much, too soon.
Instead, he let his hand rest lightly on the blanket near Soobin’s, not quite touching, but close enough that the space between their fingers hummed with possibility.
Maybe Soobin’s love language wasn’t just one thing. Maybe it was moments like this—quiet, steady, safe.
As the storm finally eased into a gentle drizzle, Yeonjun leaned his head back against the wall and whispered into the dark, words meant for no one but the boy sleeping beside him.
“I’ll figure you out, Binnie. Promise.”
And for the first time that night, Yeonjun felt certain—he already was.

Chapter Text

The storm faded sometime before dawn. By the time the sky began to lighten, the rain had dwindled to a quiet mist, the kind that clung to the windows and blurred the countryside outside.
Soobin stirred first. His lashes fluttered against his cheeks as he blinked himself awake, the weight of sleep still pulling at his limbs. For a moment, he couldn’t place the warmth pressed against him—the steady rise and fall, the faint rhythm of another heartbeat so close.
Then it clicked.
His chest tightened.
Yeonjun.
At some point during the night, Soobin must have drifted closer. His head was pillowed against Yeonjun’s shoulder, their legs brushing lightly under the blanket. Yeonjun’s arm rested casually across the space between them, close enough that Soobin only had to shift an inch for it to become an embrace.
Heat rushed to his cheeks, and he froze, not daring to move. If he stayed still, maybe Yeonjun wouldn’t—
“You’re awake.”
Soobin stiffened. Yeonjun’s voice was low, rough with sleep, but laced with amusement. He hadn’t opened his eyes yet, but the small smirk tugging at his lips gave him away.
“I—uh—” Soobin stammered, scrambling for distance. But when he shifted, Yeonjun’s arm tightened instinctively, keeping him from bolting.
“Relax,” Yeonjun murmured, finally cracking one eye open. “It’s just me.”
Soobin’s ears burned. “That’s… that’s the problem.”
Yeonjun chuckled, the sound warm and unguarded in the early morning quiet. He didn’t push, though. After a moment, he let his arm fall back, giving Soobin the space he was clearly desperate for.
The loss of warmth was immediate. Soobin told himself not to miss it.
They lay there in a silence that wasn’t uncomfortable, just fragile. Outside, the misty light grew brighter, spilling pale gold across the creaky wooden floor. Down the hall, a door slammed, followed by Beomgyu’s unmistakable laugh and the ripple of voices teasing back and forth. A moment later came the knock on their door.
“Hey, sleepyheads! We’re heading to breakfast. Come down and join us when you’re ready!”
“Guess the others are up,” Yeonjun said, stretching lazily.
Soobin hummed, sitting up and running a hand through his messy hair. He tried not to look at Yeonjun, who was still sprawled across the bed, shamelessly comfortable.
“You drooled on me, by the way,” Yeonjun teased suddenly.
Soobin’s head whipped around, mortified. “I did not—!”
Yeonjun grinned, eyes sparkling. “Kidding. Mostly.”
Soobin groaned, burying his face in his hands. But even as embarrassment burned through him, there was something else under it—something softer. Last night’s storm, the warmth, the steady reassurance still lingered between them, unspoken but impossible to ignore.
And Yeonjun, watching Soobin fight to hide his red ears, thought to himself that maybe he was getting closer to figuring him out after all.
Soobin sat up slowly, tugging the blanket around his shoulders. He stole a quick glance at Yeonjun, who was already sitting up on the bed, tousled hair sticking up in all directions, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips.
“You really think we should go down there looking like this?” Soobin muttered, voice muffled as he yawned.
Yeonjun shrugged, leaning back on his hands. “Relax. They’ll be too busy being dramatic to notice. Probably.”
Soobin groaned but pushed himself to his feet, shivering slightly in the cool morning air. The storm from the night before had left the inn damp and chilly, the mist curling around the windows. He padded over to the small bathroom, splashing water on his face to shake off the last remnants of sleep.
Yeonjun, ever unbothered, rummaged through his bag for a fresh shirt, glancing over his shoulder at Soobin. “Take your time, Binnie. No rush,” he said lightly, though the faint teasing in his tone didn’t escape the younger boy.
Minutes passed in quiet companionship. Soobin brushed his teeth while Yeonjun tidied his hair, each of them stealing glances at the other from time to time. There was a warmth in the small routine, subtle and comforting, the kind that made the air between them feel heavier and lighter all at once.
Finally, Soobin emerged from the bathroom, hair damp but mostly tamed, tugging on a simple sweater. Yeonjun eyed him, smirk softening into something almost like pride. “Looks good,” he said.
Soobin felt his ears heat, but didn’t respond. Instead, he let Yeonjun fold the blanket back and then follow him toward the door.
“Ready?” Yeonjun asked, reaching for the handle.
Soobin nodded, and together they stepped into the hall. From down the corridor came more laughter—Beomgyu, Taehyun, and Huening Kai already gathered near the stairs, a teasing chorus waiting.
“Finally!” Beomgyu called, waving wildly. “We thought you two were planning to nap all day! Breakfast won’t wait forever!”
Soobin and Yeonjun exchanged a glance, a shared smirk tugging at both sets of lips, before carefully making their way down the stairs. The air smelled faintly of toasted bread and fresh coffee, and the warmth from the inn’s main room wrapped around them like a soft invitation.
It was just breakfast—but somehow, it felt like the start of something quietly, unmistakably… theirs.
The dining room of the inn was small, with wooden tables and chairs that didn’t match and creaked whenever someone moved. The smell of fresh bread and coffee hung in the air, mixing with the quiet chatter of the few other guests already eating.
Taehyun had claimed a little corner table by the window, already halfway through a plate of eggs. Huening Kai sat across from him, drinking orange juice like it was the best thing in the world. Beomgyu, of course, lounged dramatically in his chair, throwing both arms in the air as soon as Soobin and Yeonjun walked in.
“Look who finally decided to show up!” Beomgyu shouted, earning a sharp look from Taehyun. “We thought you’d been kidnapped by ghosts or something.”
“Or maybe they just didn’t want to leave their cozy little love nest,” Kai added with a grin, too cheerful to notice how loaded his words were.
Soobin almost choked on air, coughing into his sleeve as his ears went pink. Yeonjun, on the other hand, smirked and raised an eyebrow, leaning lazily on the back of Soobin’s chair before sliding into the seat beside him.
“Jealous, Kai?” Yeonjun teased, reaching for the bread basket in the middle of the table. “You could’ve joined us if you wanted.”
Kai laughed and shook his head while Taehyun muttered, “Don’t encourage him,” under his breath.
Soobin focused on pouring water into his glass, his fingers twitching just enough for Yeonjun to notice. That same little tension was in his shoulders—the same Yeonjun had noticed last night. But under the table, their knees brushed for the briefest second, and Yeonjun didn’t move away.
The conversation rolled on as they ate. Beomgyu complained about the portions, Kai tried to trade for extra toast, and Taehyun finally handed over his bacon just to keep the peace. It was noisy, messy, familiar—the kind of thing Soobin loved most.
Still, Yeonjun leaned in a little too close every now and then, his shoulder brushing Soobin’s. And every time, that soft, steady warmth rose in Soobin’s chest—the one he kept telling himself not to feel.
“Binnie,” Yeonjun murmured once, quiet enough that only Soobin could hear. “You didn’t eat much. Want me to grab you something else?”
Soobin froze, caught off guard by the gentle tone. He looked over at Yeonjun, who acted perfectly calm, like he hadn’t just pulled all of Soobin’s attention onto him with one simple question.
“I’m fine,” Soobin whispered back, though there was more warmth in his voice than he meant to show.
Yeonjun’s smile—small, secret, meant only for him—made Soobin’s stomach twist in a way no coffee could ever fix.
Breakfast stretched on, full of the usual bickering and laughter. Beomgyu nearly knocked over his juice while trying to prove some point, Kai almost fell out of his chair from laughing too hard, and Taehyun sighed so many times it was clear he regretted sitting with them in the first place.
Soobin listened more than he spoke, the sounds around him blending into a comfortable buzz. Every now and then, he caught Yeonjun’s shoulder brushing his again, light enough to pass as an accident but steady enough to feel intentional. Each time, his chest gave that same small thump of warmth he wasn’t sure what to do with.
Eventually, plates emptied and the table grew quieter. Kai leaned back, stretching like a cat. “So,” he asked, “what’s the plan for today?”
“Explore the town,” Beomgyu said immediately, sitting up straighter. “I heard there’s a little market by the square. They sell everything—snacks, trinkets, probably haunted jewelry—”
“Or we could just rest,” Taehyun cut in, already stacking plates to take them to the counter. “You’ll run yourself into the ground if you drag us everywhere.”
Yeonjun leaned back in his chair, smirk tugging at his lips. “Sounds like fun to me. What about you, Binnie?”
Soobin blinked, caught off guard at suddenly being asked. He hesitated, fingers tightening around his glass. “Uh… I don’t mind either way.”
Yeonjun tilted his head, studying him with that same quiet attention that always felt heavier than it looked. “Then let’s go see the market. You might find something you like.”
Beomgyu cheered while Kai clapped his hands like it was settled. Taehyun muttered something under his breath but didn’t argue.
Soon enough, they pushed their chairs back and started to leave. As they stepped into the hall, Soobin felt Yeonjun’s hand brush against his, light as a whisper. It wasn’t enough to call attention to, not in front of the others, but it lingered just long enough to make Soobin’s heart skip.

The streets outside the inn were already alive with movement. Stalls lined both sides of the cobblestone road, covered in bright cloths that fluttered in the breeze. The air was full of the smell of warm bread, roasting meat, and sugar, each scent competing for attention. Voices overlapped—vendors calling out their goods, children weaving through the crowd, travelers bargaining too loudly.

“Whoa—” Kai stopped short, eyes wide as he took it all in. “It’s like a festival.”

“Festival, marketplace, same thing,” Beomgyu said, already a few steps ahead. “Either way, it’s screaming my name.” He grabbed Kai by the wrist and dragged him toward the first stand, nearly knocking into a woman carrying a basket of fruit.

“Beomgyu, watch where you’re—” Taehyun started, but stopped himself with a sigh when it was clear Beomgyu wasn’t listening. He turned to Soobin and Yeonjun instead, his expression resigned. “We’re going to lose them within ten minutes.”

“Five,” Yeonjun corrected with a grin.

Soobin gave a soft laugh, trailing after the others but keeping to Yeonjun’s side. He wasn’t the type to push through crowds, so he moved slowly, his gaze drifting over the stalls. Bright scarves, jars of honey, wooden toys, spools of dyed thread—he looked at everything, but never for too long. His hands stayed tucked deep in his pockets, as though he didn’t trust himself not to touch.

Yeonjun noticed.

Beomgyu and Kai stopped at a stall selling candied nuts, where the vendor shook sugar over a fresh batch in a steaming pan. Beomgyu practically bounced on his toes, turning to Kai with big eyes. “If you really cared about me, you’d buy these.”

“You said that about the dumplings two minutes ago,” Kai argued, laughing.

“Different food, different love,” Beomgyu shot back.

Taehyun stepped in before the argument could spiral. “Fine. Get the nuts, but if you eat until you’re sick, don’t complain to me.” He handed over a few coins with a grumble, though the corners of his mouth twitched like he wasn’t as annoyed as he sounded.

The group lingered while Beomgyu happily devoured the snack, Kai sneaking handfuls when he thought he wouldn’t notice. In the middle of the noise, Yeonjun caught Soobin slowing down again near a small wooden crafts stand.

The table was crowded with little carved animals: birds with rounded wings, rabbits with tiny pointed ears, bears with smooth faces. Soobin’s gaze lingered on them, soft and almost wistful. But just as quickly, he shifted his attention away and kept walking, as if pretending he hadn’t stopped at all.

Yeonjun filed it away.

The rest of the walk through the market was a blur of noise and color. Beomgyu argued dramatically with another vendor about whether he deserved a “handsome customer discount,” Kai tried to juggle three pieces of fruit at once and nearly dropped them all, and Taehyun muttered about losing brain cells by the minute.

Yeonjun slipped away during the commotion. He bought one of the little wooden bears, small enough to hide in his palm, before picking up a bag of roasted chestnuts as cover. By the time he returned, Beomgyu was loudly insisting he could talk his way into free samples if given enough time.

“Had to grab these before Beomgyu ate the whole stall,” Yeonjun said easily, holding up the chestnuts.

Soobin glanced at him, that faint crease between his brows easing. “You disappeared,” he said quietly, almost accusing but not quite.

Yeonjun just smiled. “You noticed.”

Later, when they stopped at a fountain in the square to rest, everyone collapsed onto the stone benches with their food. Beomgyu launched into a dramatic retelling of his “masterful bargaining skills,” Kai clapped at all the wrong moments, and Taehyun looked two seconds away from shoving them both into the fountain.

In the middle of the chaos, Yeonjun leaned close to Soobin and slid the small bear into his hand. He didn’t say much—just, “You were looking at this earlier. Thought you might want it.”

Soobin froze, staring down at the figure. His first instinct was to give it back, to insist it wasn’t necessary. But the warmth in Yeonjun’s voice, the quiet way he said it like it mattered, made his throat tighten.

“…Thanks,” he murmured, slipping the bear quickly into his pocket before anyone else could notice. His ears burned, but his lips curved into the faintest smile.

Yeonjun leaned back, smirk tugging at his mouth, though he didn’t push. The others were too wrapped up in their own noise to see what had passed between them.

But Soobin’s hand brushed against the shape of the little bear in his pocket, holding onto it like a secret. And Yeonjun, watching from the corner of his eye, felt a flicker of victory—maybe this was it. Maybe gift-giving was the key.

The marketplace didn’t lose its noise even as the sun climbed higher. Beomgyu bounced from stall to stall like he was fueled by sugar alone, Kai stumbling after him with his arms full of snacks. Taehyun trailed behind, carrying the bulk of their bags and muttering about “children in grown bodies.”

Soobin stayed near the back of the group, walking at his own unhurried pace. His eyes drifted over the stalls—bright scarves hung from wooden beams, piles of spices turned the air sharp and sweet, rows of candles flickered in the breeze. He didn’t stop, but Yeonjun caught the way his gaze softened here and there, pausing for just a moment before sliding away.

That little carved bear was still tucked in Soobin’s pocket. Yeonjun didn’t need to see it to know—he noticed the way Soobin’s hand brushed the fabric now and again, like he was checking it was still there. He let it go unmentioned, a secret observation he held close.

Instead, Yeonjun tested something new. When the crowd thickened, he reached out and rested his hand lightly at the small of Soobin’s back, guiding him through the press of people. It was a casual gesture, something no one else would notice. Soobin went still for half a heartbeat, then exhaled, stepping easily into the space Yeonjun made for him.

Not pulling away. Not rejecting the touch. Just… adjusting.

Yeonjun filed it away, satisfaction curling warm in his chest.

The group chaos continued to spiral. Beomgyu nearly toppled a stack of baskets while trying to impress the vendor with his “bargaining skills.” Kai tried to juggle three oranges and dropped them all, sending one rolling under a cart. Taehyun’s patience thinned with every passing minute.

“Why do I do this to myself,” Taehyun muttered when Yeonjun stepped in to catch a lantern pole before Beomgyu sent it crashing down. “Every time, I think you all can handle yourselves for one morning.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Yeonjun said lightly, brushing dust off his hands.

Soobin gave him a sidelong glance, quiet but meaningful. “You’re always cleaning up after him.”

Yeonjun only shrugged, though the words stuck with him. Acts of service. He was starting to see a pattern.

By the time they made their way back to the inn, the chaos had dulled into exhaustion. Beomgyu collapsed onto the first couch he found, groaning dramatically as if they’d walked for days. Kai unwrapped a sweet bun and promptly fell asleep halfway through his first bite, head dropping onto Beomgyu’s shoulder. Taehyun muttered something about locking himself in his room before disappearing up the stairs with their bags.

Soobin stayed near the corner of the common room, setting down a basket of fruit they’d picked up. He leaned against the wall, shoulders finally relaxing now that the noise had dimmed. The late afternoon light spilled through the windows, painting the room in soft gold.

Yeonjun joined him quietly, brushing his shoulder against Soobin’s just enough to feel the warmth of contact. “Tired?”

“A little,” Soobin admitted, voice soft but not guarded. His hand slipped into his pocket again, fingertips pressing against the outline of the wooden bear. He probably didn’t even realize he was doing it.

Yeonjun noticed, but didn’t tease. Instead, he tilted his head. “Want me to grab you tea? I saw they had a pot going in the kitchen earlier.”

Soobin blinked, caught off guard by the offer. He opened his mouth, closed it again, then gave the smallest nod. “…That’d be nice.”

There was a quiet weight in his voice, like the simple gesture mattered more than he wanted it to.

Yeonjun’s lips curved in a subtle smile. “Be right back.”

He slipped away into the kitchen, listening to the faint clatter of dishes and the muffled laughter of the innkeeper’s family in the back. He poured the tea himself instead of asking, steadying the pot with one hand to keep it from spilling. The cup wasn’t perfect—slightly chipped, steam curling too hot—but when he set it carefully on the table in front of Soobin, it felt like something more than routine.

Soobin glanced up at him, surprised all over again. His hands wrapped around the warm ceramic, shoulders easing just a fraction. “…Thanks,” he said, so soft it nearly vanished under Beomgyu’s snore from across the room.

Yeonjun dropped into the seat beside him, leaning back with practiced nonchalance. “Don’t mention it.”

But when Soobin sipped the tea, hiding the faintest smile behind the rim of the cup, Yeonjun knew. This, too, was part of it. Quiet acts. Small touches. Thoughtful details.

Maybe Soobin’s love language wasn’t one thing—it was all the little things no one else thought to notice.

And Yeonjun was determined to notice every single one.

Chapter Text

The common room grew quieter as the sun dipped lower, golden light spilling across the floorboards and softening the edges of the space. Soobin cradled his tea in both hands, letting the warmth seep into his palms, grounding him. Beside him, Yeonjun lounged with his legs stretched out, far too relaxed for the tight corner they had claimed.
For a while, it felt effortless. The bustle of the inn receded into the background, leaving only the two of them—a quiet, steady presence, almost hidden from the rest of the world.
Then Beomgyu stirred on the couch, one eye cracking open.
“Wait a second,” he muttered, voice rough with sleep. “Since when do you fetch drinks for other people, Yeonjun?”
Soobin froze, nearly choking on his tea, and set the cup down too quickly. Yeonjun, completely unfazed, stretched his arms behind his head with a lazy grin.
“Since my leader looked like he was about to collapse. Someone has to keep him alive.”
Beomgyu squinted but didn’t argue. Taehyun, passing by on his way upstairs, nudged him sharply with his knee. “Stop stirring trouble and let him drink his tea.”
Beomgyu yelped but subsided, muttering about “weird vibes” before rolling over. Soobin’s cheeks remained flushed as he lifted his cup again, hiding behind it, though the corners of his lips curved upward slightly. Yeonjun smirked to himself. Their secret was still safe—for now.
Evening settled in, and the others gradually returned. Taehyun muttered complaints about the room being a mess, while Kai appeared with a plate of pastries he had somehow convinced the innkeeper to hand over. Beomgyu bounced with energy, ready to light up the entire street.
“Let’s go outside,” Beomgyu declared, already halfway to the door. “The street performers are starting! Maybe there’ll be fireworks!”
The street pulsed with life in a way the inn never could. Lanterns swayed overhead, music and laughter spilling into every corner. Vendors called out their wares, children darted past with sparklers, and performers practiced flips and juggling in the crowd.
Soobin stayed close to Yeonjun, letting the noise wash over him. Every brush of a shoulder, every glance from the crowd, made the tension in his chest sharpen. He dug his hand into his pocket, fingers curling around the little bear as if it could anchor him.
Yeonjun laughed at something Beomgyu shouted, then caught Soobin’s gaze for a moment too long. His grin softened imperceptibly. He slowed his steps, letting the others drift ahead.
“Binnie,” he murmured, quiet enough that only Soobin could hear. “You okay?”
Soobin blinked. “Yeah. I’m fine.” The words sounded too quick, too rehearsed.
“You’ve been quiet,” Yeonjun observed, tilting his head slightly. “More than usual.”
Soobin focused on the cobblestones. “It’s just… loud, that’s all.”
Yeonjun didn’t tease. He shifted closer. “Then stay by me. I’ll make sure no one bothers you.”
The weight of the words made Soobin’s chest ache. He nodded, unable to speak, letting himself be steadied by the presence at his side.
Up ahead, Beomgyu waved dramatically. “Come on, lovebirds! You’re lagging!”
Soobin’s ears burned, but Yeonjun chuckled, slipping back into his usual grin.
The crowd thickened as they moved further into the square. Beomgyu and Kai had already vanished toward some distraction, leaving Taehyun to keep a careful watch. Soobin and Yeonjun trailed at the edge of the lantern glow, moving more slowly than the others.
Soobin’s fingers tightened on the little carved bear. He hated how obvious his nerves felt.
“Binnie.” Yeonjun slowed to match his pace, the lantern light softening the sharpness of his features. “You don’t have to fake it with me.”
“I’m not—” Soobin started, then stopped. “I just… don’t want them to notice.”
“They’re too distracted,” Yeonjun replied, glancing toward the crowd ahead. “Beomgyu’s probably trying to convince a fire-juggler to let him join the act.”
Soobin let out a quiet laugh, barely audible, and Yeonjun’s lips twitched in response. Then, softer: “I notice, though.”
The words landed between them, heavy with unspoken meaning. Soobin froze, instinctively wanting to look away, but Yeonjun’s gaze held him steady. The warmth of Yeonjun’s presence eased the tightness in Soobin’s chest. He nodded, letting the silence stretch between them.
Taehyun called from behind. “Hey, wait up! Are you two okay back there?”
Soobin’s perched up to look. Yeonjun glanced at him, offering a reassuring smile. “We’re fine. The crowd’s just really loud.”
Taehyun fell back a few steps to match their pace. “Alright… just making sure. Don’t want anyone getting lost.”
The square buzzed with energy, but it wasn’t overwhelming now that they’d reached the edge of the crowd. Lanterns hung overhead, swaying gently and casting a warm glow over the cobblestones. Music drifted from a small group of performers tuning their instruments, and the scent of roasted chestnuts and sweet pastries lingered in the air.
Taehyun had guided them to a decent spot near the front, enough to see the performers without getting crushed by the rest of the crowd. He leaned back against a post, scanning the people around them to make sure they weren’t getting pushed or jostled. “Here, this works,” he said, voice low. “You’ll be able to see everything.”
Soobin adjusted slightly, still clutching the little carved bear in his pocket. His shoulders were tense, the nerves of the crowd brushing against him like static.
Yeonjun noticed immediately. Without thinking, he shifted closer, brushing a hand lightly against Soobin’s back. It wasn’t a gesture anyone else could see, but it grounded him, like a quiet anchor amid the movement and noise.
Soobin let out a soft, almost imperceptible breath, feeling the tension ease slightly. Yeonjun didn’t smile, didn’t tease—he just stayed there, slowly moving his hand against Soobin’s back, steady and unspoken.
The performers began to move, acrobats flipping and twirling, balancing carefully on stacks of crates. Flames flickered as torches were juggled and tossed, and the crowd gasped in unison at each daring stunt. Soobin’s eyes widened, captivated by the display, but he stayed close to Yeonjun, almost leaning without meaning to.
The acrobats continued their routine, spinning, flipping, and catching torches in midair. Yeonjun's comforting nature made him forget the crowd, chaos, and made him feel the quiet closeness of this tiny, private corner of the world.
For the first time that evening, Soobin felt like he could breathe, even in the middle of a bustling, lively square. Yeonjun noticed immediately. He watched the way Soobin’s lips curved into a small, shy smile at the acrobat’s final flip, the way his shoulders relaxed, his hands loosening slightly around the little carved bear in his pocket.
For a moment, Yeonjun didn’t say anything. He just let himself take in the scene—Soobin, so soft and calm, enjoying something as simple as the performers’ show, and not trying to hide or control the way he felt.
“You’re… really cute when you’re like this,” Yeonjun murmured, more to himself than to Soobin, though his voice was low and carried a warmth that made Soobin glance up.
Soobin’s cheeks flushed faintly, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he let himself relax further, leaning slightly against Yeonjun without thinking about it.
Yeonjun smiled, just a little, keeping his gaze on Soobin. The world around them—lanterns, performers, the crowd—faded into a soft blur. For the first time that evening, Yeonjun could simply admire him, happy and at ease, without needing to test boundaries or play a game.
Soobin’s small smile grew just a fraction, unnoticed by anyone but Yeonjun, who stayed quietly close, letting this small, peaceful moment linger.The cheers of the crowd rose again as the performers took a bow, tossing small props into the audience. Soobin’s eyes lingered on the performers for a moment longer, his hands finally unclenching around the little carved bear.
Yeonjun stayed close, letting him savor the calm without interruption.
Taehyun took a mental note, keeping a quiet eye on both of them as they adjusted their positions in the crowd. He didn’t say anything, but the way he glanced at them—the soft look in his eyes, the way he gave them a little space—showed he’d noticed something, even if he didn’t speak it aloud.
“Let’s move up a bit,” Taehyun said quietly, guiding them through a small gap toward a better view of the stage. His voice was practical, careful, giving them room without drawing attention to anything else.
Soobin followed, feeling safe between Yeonjun and Taehyun. Yeonjun stayed by his side. No teasing, no words—just quiet closeness under the busy, lively square.
Once they reached a clear spot, Taehyun nodded, satisfied. He stayed beside them, scanning the crowd, but careful not to interrupt the two.
Soobin exhaled softly, letting himself relax. Yeonjun’s small, private smile met his, it was like they were in a trance together , no one around but them.
Taehyun fell into step beside them, quiet and watchful. From the corner of his eye, he noticed how Soobin’s shoulder brushed against Yeonjun’s just a little too often to be accidental. He caught the way Soobin’s hands lingered near his pocket, fiddling with something small, and how his gaze kept flicking to Yeonjun, softening every time their eyes met. He didn’t comment. He didn’t need to. Instead, he let himself think. Hmm… something’s definitely going on there, he admitted silently. But they’re careful, and it’s subtle…
Taehyun’s lips twitched in a quiet smile, thinking about them ,he felt a little warm inside. Not because it was his business, but because he could tell Soobin felt safe. And that, more than anything, made him feel… glad.
He glanced at Yeonjun. Yep, Taehyun thought, that’s not just friendship.
And as the performers began their next routine, Taehyun watched with a small, protective satisfaction—he wanted to make sure they could enjoy it together, letting the two of them exist in their own little world amidst the chaos of the square.
The performers took their positions for the finale, the crowd leaning in with anticipation. Torches were stacked high, acrobats balanced on top, and a hush spread over the square.
The first acrobat leapt, flipping through the air and landing perfectly. Soobin’s eyes followed every movement, his lips curved into a small, nervous smile.
The sequence accelerated—flames spun in arcs, performers tumbled and leapt from crate to crate, each stunt more daring than the last. Soobin’s heart raced, his gaze flicking from the performers to Yeonjun, who seemed to absorb the chaos around them with ease.
The performers took their final bow, sparks from torches fading as the crowd erupted in cheers. Slowly, people began to drift away, lingering only to buy a last snack or snap one more picture. The energy of the square softened, lanterns swinging gently overhead as the space emptied.
“So,” Taehyun said, stepping closer to Soobin and Yeonjun, “let’s head back toward the center—Beomgyu and Kai should be waiting.”
Soobin nodded, following Taehyun’s lead. Yeonjun’s hand brushed his lightly as they walked, guiding him through the thinning crowd.
The streets felt quieter now, the echoes of applause and laughter fading into soft murmurs and the occasional clink of a vendor packing up. They slipped past empty stalls, lantern light warming the cobblestones beneath their feet.
When they reached the center of town, Beomgyu was leaning against a lamp post, arms crossed, while Kai waved energetically, balancing a half-eaten pastry. “Finally!” Beomgyu called. “Thought you’d get stuck back there forever!”
“We weren’t far behind,” Taehyun said quietly, keeping the tone neutral, while Yeonjun gave a small smirk that only Soobin noticed.
Soobin let out a soft laugh, easing slightly as the two halves of the group rejoined. The square was nearly empty now, the performers packing up their gear, lanterns swaying gently overhead. For a brief moment, the chaos had faded completely, leaving them together—Taehyun quietly observant, Yeonjun subtly protective, and Soobin finally feeling like he belonged.
Beomgyu and Kai didn’t notice the small, private bubble that had formed between Soobin and Yeonjun. They just bounced with their usual energy, ready to drag everyone off toward the next adventure.
But for now, Soobin walked beside Yeonjun, and Taehyun silently let them be, the corner of his lips tugging in quiet acknowledgment of what he’d noticed.

The square was quieter now, the performers gone and only the soft sway of lanterns overhead marking the end of the evening. Soobin walked between Yeonjun and Taehyun, still feeling the warmth from the show settle in his chest. The little bear in his pocket felt lighter somehow, a small anchor he hadn’t realized he needed.
Beomgyu bounced ahead, arms swinging like he was marching to his own drumbeat, while Kai lagged just behind him, munching on the last of his pastries. “Okay, seriously,” Beomgyu said, spinning around to face them. “Tomorrow we need to hit everything. Fire-juggling, street games, maybe even the market! Who’s with me?”
Kai raised a hand, crumbs tumbling off his fingers. “Me, obviously. And I vote we get more pastries first thing. Breakfast of champions!”
Taehyun shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Let’s not overcommit. We’ll see how the morning goes. No need to collapse before lunch.”
Yeonjun chuckled, leaning slightly toward Soobin as they walked. “I vote we follow Beomgyu’s plan… at least for the morning. Then maybe something quieter for the afternoon?”
Soobin glanced at him, the corner of his lips tugging up into a small smile. “Yeah, that sounds… good,” he said softly.
Beomgyu waved his hands dramatically. “Quiet? Who even said that? Not me! I’ll be loud for all of us.”
“Don’t argue,” Taehyun murmured, letting the corner of his mouth twitch in amusement. “Just keep walking before you trip over a cobblestone.”
The group fell into a loose rhythm, their chatter ebbing and flowing like the footsteps on the worn street. Beomgyu and Kai argued playfully about which street game they should try first, while Taehyun and Yeonjun occasionally interjected with dry comments or mock complaints. Soobin listened, letting himself relax into the familiar noise, his hand brushing against Yeonjun’s more often than necessary without anyone noticing.
By the time they reached the inn, laughter and chatter had settled into an easy rhythm. Lantern light spilled across the cobblestones and the wooden doors, casting the familiar warmth of home. Beomgyu was already leaning against the wall, stretching dramatically, while Kai chattered on about which pastries they should eat tomorrow.
As they settled into the common room, the group started casually planning the next day. Beomgyu and Kai bounced between teasing each other and debating what they should do first, while Taehyun offered practical suggestions in a calm, steady voice. Soobin listened, absently tracing the rim of his tea cup, and then spoke up, quieter than the others but firm enough to catch their attention.
“Hey… what if tomorrow we did something a little different? Not just running around the market or street games…”
Beomgyu paused mid-gesture, eyebrows rising. “Different how? You talking quiet, boring stuff?”
“No, not boring,” Soobin said quickly, cheeks warming. “I… I saw a flyer in town. There’s a hot spring a little west of here. It’s supposed to have amazing views, and the train ride there goes along the river. We could spend the day there… together.”
Kai blinked, crumbs halfway to his mouth. “Wait… a spa day? You mean, like… soaking in hot water? That sounds… actually kind of amazing.”
Beomgyu’s eyes lit up. “Wait, wait! Are you saying we get to relax AND see scenery? That’s… incredible. I’m in!”
Taehyun leaned back against a chair, arms crossed, a small smile tugging at his lips. “That actually sounds… reasonable. Less crowded than the square, at least. And you’d all stay together, which makes sense.”
Yeonjun looked at Soobin, lips curving into a quiet grin. “That sounds perfect. A day away from all the chaos… just us, and a little peace.” His shoulder brushed against Soobin’s as he spoke, subtle but grounding.
Soobin’s chest warmed at the contact, and he tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear, eyes flicking down at the little bear in his pocket. “Yeah… I thought it could be nice for all of us to do something calm. We’ve been running around so much, and…” He glanced at Yeonjun, then quickly away, cheeks flushing. “…it’d be nice to just… enjoy it together.”
Beomgyu clapped his hands loudly. “Sold! Hot springs adventure it is! I’m bringing snacks. Lots of snacks. And probably a few dumb jokes for the ride.”
Kai waved a hand. “I’m bringing pastries. We’re not letting this spa day turn into starvation.”
Taehyun shook his head, smiling faintly. “Fine, fine. I’ll handle the logistics—train times, tickets, making sure no one gets lost.” His eyes flicked at Soobin and Yeonjun, subtle but knowing, before he returned his attention to the group.
Yeonjun leaned a little closer to Soobin as they started tidying their cups, a private smile just for him. “See? Your idea was perfect,” he murmured.
Soobin felt his chest flutter, but he let himself relax into the moment. “Yeah… I think it’ll be really nice.”
The group continued talking, laughter spilling softly into the room, but Soobin and Yeonjun had carved out their own little space amid the chaos. For the first time all evening, Soobin felt like he could breathe—part of the group, but with this quiet connection at his side.
The warmth of the evening lingered in the common room, soft and steady, like the promise of a day just for them—friends, laughter, and a little escape from the world.