Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Then

Summer 2019

When Yeonjun came out to the other members, he was terrified. He had gone back and forth about it since the day they found out they would be debuting as five, trying to decide if and when he should tell them. 

He tried to test the waters, mentioning queer media, or making up a story about a male acquaintance who had a boyfriend and telling it around the others, just to see what their reaction would be. Knowing the members all had hearts of gold, he’s not sure why he was so worried, especially considering none of them ever showed even the slightest hint of being homophobic—but it was still nerve-wracking. 

So once he told them, and they accepted him with open arms—and Soobin came out too—Yeonjun felt like he could finally fully breathe; he could finally be himself, completely.

He was especially thankful that Beomgyu—whom he was incredibly close with before coming out—didn’t treat him any different than he had before. If anything, they were even closer. 

With Beomgyu, he worried in particular about coming out to him because of the nature of their relationship. 

Yeonjun was a touchy person—he always had been. Physical touch was one of his love languages, and it was natural for him to cling onto the people he cared for. Beomgyu was the same way, and they always seemed to have a… touchier relationship than the others. It wasn’t anything incriminating—they never did anything with the intent of it being more than platonic. Yeonjun simply saw Beomgyu as a best friend and a teddy bear in one. 

When he was exhausted at dance practice, Beomgyu’s arm easily found his waist, holding him up and offering his shoulder to lean on; neither of them caring about how sweaty they were. When Beomgyu couldn’t sleep at night, he’d crawl under Yeonjun’s sheets and press his face into the nape of his neck, all sleep warm and soft-eyed. 

Even if it all had the potential to look a certain way, Yeonjun didn’t worry much about it, because Beomgyu was straight. And—it wasn’t like Yeonjun liked him, or something.  

Beomgyu was attractive, sure—they all were. That was basically a job requirement for them. Sure, Yeonjun secretly thought Beomgyu’s doll-like features and deep, rumbling voice made him the most attractive out of all of them, but again, it wasn’t like he liked him like that.

Beomgyu was attractive, and that was a fact—it wasn’t wrong of him to acknowledge that. Anyone with eyes would agree. 

It wasn’t until Soobin brought it up to him one night, that he really thought much of his attraction to the younger. 

The younger members were out—probably at a PC cafe or the convenience store or who knows where. It was a rare night where their schedules ended early, and Yeonjun was devouring fried chicken with the leader, barely talking as they stuffed their mouths.

After a while of silence, Soobin turned towards him, wiping his hands on his napkin. There was a mischievous look on his face, but a strange look in his eyes that didn’t match the rest of his expression. “Hyung—I have a question.” Humming noncommittally, Yeonjun glanced at him briefly before looking back to the last piece of chicken. Soobin nodded towards it in invitation and the older snatched it up, taking a huge bite as he continued. “Maybe it’s stupid, but I just wanted to know—I actually have to know being the leader and all,” he rambled, Yeonjun only half listening while chewing through the huge bite he took. 

“I just… I’ve noticed how close you and Beomgyu are, and you guys seem to do a lot of things one on one… I just—I need to know if you need to tell me anything about that.”

Yeonjun scowled at him through his chewing, cheeks puffed but confusion laced in his eyebrows. “Mwha doya mean?” He slurred around chicken, shoving the last bite in his mouth along with the half chewed bits.

Soobin coughed, looking down at the table. “I just… are you guys,” he trailed off, taking too long to answer and making Yeonjun’s mind wander a little, thinking about the choreography they had been learning earlier—how Beomgyu was the first one to get it down, strong legs and sharp memory helping the rest of them through it. 

“I just need you to be honest with me and tell me if you guys are together—like, dating… or something.”

Chicken shot down Yeonjun’s throat with his gasp.

He broke into a coughing fit, Soobin’s eyes going wide and smacking him on the back as he chugged from his water bottle, clearing his airway. “What?” He coughed, wiping at the tears that had come to his eyes from his hacking. “What are you talking about? No—Beomgyu is straight,” he sniffled, rubbing at his mouth and his now snotty nose, from the coughing. His stomach was doing some weird twisting thing and he wondered if he ate too much too quickly. 

Soobin shrugged. “I mean—I dunno, he’s never particularly confirmed that he is… you never know.”

Yeonjun’s eyes widened. “Has he said something to you about it?” He asked, hearing how frantic his words sounded—he wasn’t sure why he needed to know so quickly. 

And of course, Soobin noticed, eyes narrowing at him a bit, but thankfully moving past it. Yeonjun wouldn’t even know what to say, if he asked. The leader shrugged. “No, not really… I just wondered—since you guys are so close.”

Yeonjun shrugged back. “He’s my best friend—that’s all,” he replied, standing up from the couch and heading to the fridge, looking to grab a soda in hopes that the carbonation would settle his churning stomach. 

Soobin’s voice was slightly muffled from where Yeonjun’s head was in the fridge. “Well you guys are just awfully touchy, and he’s super attractive, so.”

Apparently on a mission to destroy his body on his one night off, Yeonjun’s head whipped out of the fridge too soon, bashing the top of it on the edge. He swore, finally looking towards Soobin while rubbing his head. The expression on the leader’s face made him uncomfortable.

He looked questioning—or disbelieving… or knowing. Like he knew something Yeonjun didn’t.

“You agree—don’t you?” 

Scowling again, Yeonjun cracked the soda as he sat back down next to Soobin.

The leader sighed, like he was dumb—maybe he was being a little slow, but his head was pounding and his stomach felt weird and this all felt like he was being interrogated, for some reason.

“That Beomgyu is attractive, I mean,” Soobin clarified. “You agree?”

Hands finding the bottom of his hoodie, Yeonjun tugged at it gruffly, body suddenly feeling too warm. “I mean—that’s kind of part of our job, Bin-ah,” he reasoned, dropping his face into his palm in a way that was attempting to be casual, but really trying to see if he was running a fever, or something. His body temperature seemed to be rising and his stomach churned.

The leader hummed. “I mean yeah, but…” He trailed off, glancing at Yeonjun for a second, looking uncharacteristically nervous—Soobin was quite honest and they were close; he didn’t usually have a problem telling Yeonjun the truth. 

But the strange look only lasted for a second; it was gone so quickly he wondered if he imagined it. A mischievous smile returned to Soobin’s face, the same from before. “Just—I was told as the leader that I have to monitor that stuff, and we really aren’t supposed to be with each other in that way so… I love and respect you so much Hyung, but you really can’t fall in love with him, alright?”

Yeonjun blanched. His stomach gave a turn so violent, he thought he might actually puke.

“W-What?” He stammered, taken aback; his eyes were huge and heat washed over him again. Maybe he really was getting sick—he felt feverish. “Why would I do that?” He questioned, blinking hard at the leader. “I told you, its not like that.”

Putting his hands up defensively, Soobin shrugged. “I know, I know. I just… sometimes you look at him different. And I don’t think you even notice it, but I do—so I just needed to tell you,” he explained. “It’s not that I’m against it, I just was told we weren’t allowed to be with other members and I needed to enforce that.”

Looked at him different? What the hell did that mean?

Wiping at the clammy back of his neck, Yeonjun shook his head. “Beomgyu is straight.”

Soobin open his mouth for a second, but closed it, looking over him with a strange look. He tilted his head. “That’s not what we’re talking about.”

The room got hotter. 

“I don’t like Beomgyu—I don’t look at him a certain way,” Yeonjun insisted. “And even if I did—look at him a certain way—it’s just because I care about him… platonically,” he emphasized, making sure Soobin understood. “I don’t have feelings for him like that… we’re close, but that’s just because we are similar and we get along well. Sure, he’s attractive, but I don’t think of him like that.”

He could hear in his own voice how defensive he sounded—he had no clue why.

Giving him one last strange look, Soobin sighed. “Alright,” he conceded, picking up his phone. “Just—I had to tell you it isn’t allowed… just in case.”

And with that, the leader grabbed his empty plate and went to the kitchen before heading off to the bathroom, claiming the shower first. 

Yeonjun pretended to be asleep on the couch when the younger members got home, so he didn’t have overanalyze how he looked at Beomgyu. 

That night, his sleep was restless—flashes of dreams coming through with a mysterious, familiar voice, eyes and lips. 

His sleep was restless; until a body slid under the covers behind him, a cold nose pressed to the back of his neck and a long arm wrapped around his middle. “Can’t sleep,” Beomgyu murmured at Yeonjun’s barely awake grumbles. 

When he woke in the morning, a leg around Beomgyu and their hands laced together on the bed in front of the younger’s sleeping form, he made sure to detach himself before Soobin could see them. He didn’t need the leader overanalyzing things that weren’t there—he just slept better with someone—Beomgyu—by his side. 

It didn’t mean anything—Beomgyu was straight, and Yeonjun was too busy being the idol he always dreamed of being. 

He wasn’t going to fall for his bandmate—that was ridiculous.  

Beomgyu was straight. He was his best friend.

Yeonjun wouldn’t ever ruin that.

Spring/Summer 2020

When Beomgyu came out to Yeonjun, it didn’t completely surprise him. 

If you had brought up the possibility even a year before, he probably wouldn’t have guessed it. But by the time the younger told him—he had noticed some signs. 

He’d catch Beomgyu staring at an attractive guy, his gaze lingering a little too long and moving around his body a little too much. Or he’d notice the younger trying to subtly listen in when he and Soobin were gossiping about male suitors—he definitely thought he was being subtle, but he would also be uncharacteristically quiet and Yeonjun would notice him suspiciously scrolling through random things on this phone (like his camera roll, or back and forth on his home screen, even) when the topic came up. 

And for some reason unbeknownst to Yeonjun, Beomgyu seemed to look up to him, quite a bit. So, it also didn’t really surprise him when he started coming to him with questions; part of him was waiting for it to happen. 

Beomgyu kept to himself mostly, when it came to serious things—emotions, struggles, things of that sort. But when he did open up, it seemed like he felt that Yeonjun was a safe place to go. Whenever he did come to him—red ears and nervous, wringing hands—it made the older want to simultaneously coo at him, and shelter him from everything; to keep him safe from the harsh world around them, so he always felt protected and secure.

It also made a warm, fuzzy feeling spread in Yeonjun’s chest—being the one Beomgyu came to; the one he trusted with things he didn’t trust anyone else with.

So, it wasn’t a huge shock when the older was parked on his bed, lost in his phone and heard the younger suddenly speak into the comfortable silence. 

“Hyung, what’s it like to kiss a guy?”

Stomach giving a weird twist, Yeonjun forced his face to stay neutral. His eyes flicked to Beomgyu, sprawled on the floor next to his bed, staring at the ceiling. “What do you mean?” He asked, eyes narrowed slightly. His head felt a little fuzzy; he wasn’t drunk, but maybe the slightest bit tipsy after the soju they had drunk. He mostly felt a little sleepy, which is probably why it took him a second to fully process Beomgyu’s words. “It’s not that different from kissing a girl.” 

He watched the younger pull himself upwards, his cheeks flushed a bit from the alcohol. Cute. “Not at all?” He asked, big, round eyes blinking hard.

It was also not surprising that his next move was to climb up on the bed, planting himself next to the older—Beomgyu could be clingy, entering his bubble with no regard for personal space. Not that Yeonjun minded, he was the same way.

Shrugging, he let the younger settle in next to him. “I mean, it can be... it depends,” Yeonjun said slowly; the thoughts crossing his mind made his cheeks heat up. 

The memory of the last time he kissed a girl—when he slid his hands under her thighs, easily lifting her up onto the counter behind her, taking control of the kiss. He also remembered the last time he kissed a guy—strong, muscled arms dropping him onto the bed with a surprised squeak. Both equally made him flush.  

Glancing to Beomgyu—all big eyes and genuine curiosity—he knew he needed to be truthful; it was only fair. He was Beomgyu’s Hyung, he knew should be open and honest with him as he figured out his sexuality. 

Cheeks burning, he continued. “Like, if you’re used to kissing girls who are smaller than you—less strong… then kissing a guy can be different... if they’re your size or bigger,” he trailed off. The fact that he and Beomgyu were about the same size flashed across his mind—he pushed it away. “A lot of girls expect the guy to take the lead, right? And guys know they’re expected to do that too, so it happens,” he explained, despite the slight awkwardness. “Stupid gender roles if you ask me. But, it can be different if you kiss a guy and he takes the lead—and you’re not used to it.”

Beomgyu nodded slightly, looking like he was thinking hard. “Is it nice?” He asked, making Yeonjun’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. The younger continued before he got the chance to ask what he was referring to. “Letting someone else take the lead?” 

Flashes of lips kissing down his neck and firm muscle under his fingertips flew across his mind. He felt himself get more red and couldn’t help but let out an embarrassed huff of a laugh. “I mean yeah, sometimes.”

Beomgyu’s lips formed a small, confused pout. “What do you mean sometimes?”

Heat washed over Yeonjun.

It took everything in him to not let out an exasperated sigh. The younger clearly did not understand what it seemed like he was asking—what was making the older flush all the way down to his toes. 

He’s not asking this, he thought. He can’t be, right? He’s not that bold.

When he asked Beomgyu if he wanted to hang out and drink, he was not expecting to end up discussing his sexual preferences in bed.

“I mean… I…” He swallowed, trying to sound less embarrassed and more confident—and definitely failing. “Are we still talking about kissing?” He asked, voice cracking a little at the end.

The confused pout got deeper. “What?” Beomgyu tilted his head like a confused puppy. “Of course we are… what else would we be talking about?”

Not sure if it was his panic or the alcohol in his system, Yeonjun overcompensated, talking too quickly and too loudly. “Nothing!”

His poor attempt at normalcy didn’t get past the younger. Eyes first narrowed, searching over Yeonjun’s face; and then a look of realization crossed his features, eyes going wide again and lips dropping into a circle. He let out a snort. “Oh my god,” Beomgyu laughed, expression filled with mischief. “You thought I was trying to ask you if you’re a top or a bottom.” 

This boy would be the death of him, someday.

Yeonjun tried to form a complete sentence, he really did, but the sudden (true) accusation had him stammering. He knew his face was bright red, and Beomgyu was just laughing at him, his grin taking up his whole face. 

He wanted to die, a little.

Smacking his arm playfully, Beomgyu spoke through the remnants of his giggles. “I was talking about kissing, I swear,” he insisted, putting his arms out placatingly. 

Then, his demeanor changed a little, as he calmed down—no longer making eye contact and fidgeting where he sat. “I was just curious about it,” he admitted quietly. “I’ve been thinking about it, but haven’t had any opportunities,” he shrugged, taking another swig of soju. He let out a little sigh, sounding disappointed. “It seems impossible with our life.”

It was Yeonjun’s turn to tilt his head in confusion. “No opportunities? No one has caught your eye?” He asked, looking over the younger’s face. He couldn’t really fathom the idea that Beomgyu—angel faced, sweet and pretty Beomgyu—couldn’t find someone to kiss. He doesn’t doubt that at least five of their shared acquaintances would jump at the opportunity. 

The younger boy shrugged. “I dunno,” he murmured, cheeks reddening again. “No one knows I’m not straight, and I’m too scared to just… come on really strong with anyone—so they know.”

All Yeonjun could do was hum in reply—he didn’t know what to say. Most men he had been with approached him first; apparently he gave off enough gay energy—as Soobin said—that people assumed. Since he knew about Beomgyu, he thought it was pretty obvious as well, but maybe that was just because he already knew. 

He was so lost in his thoughts that it jumped him when the younger spoke again. His voice came out quickly and timid, like it was an impulse. 

“Would you kiss me?”

Yeonjun blanched. His stomach did a full somersault. 

Answer him, his mind screamed. Don’t leave him hanging. 

He couldn’t get a word out, mouth opening and closing but only silence filling the room.

After the quiet lasted a second too long, Beomgyu breathed out an awkward laugh. “Ohmygod,” he murmured in disbelief. “I don’t know why I just said that… I’m sorry—you… you don’t have to kiss me.”

Impulsively, Yeonjun went to cut him off, but the younger was quicker. “I thought it was a good idea for a second—because I trust you and I’m comfortable with you, but I didn’t even consider how you might feel about it,” he spat out, voice full of growing panic. “And now I’m realizing it probably sounds like I’m just trying to take advantage of you and-”

And Yeonjun wouldn’t have any of that. “Gyu, it’s okay,” he spoke over him, reaching out to the younger’s wringing hands to calm down their frantic, anxious movement. He felt guilty immediately, making Beomgyu think he was upset, or mad at him—or that he did anything wrong. 

There were very few things in this world he liked less than seeing Beomgyu upset. 

Trying to comfort him as best he could, Yeonjun squeezed his hands, running a thumb over the back of them. “I don’t think you’re taking advantage of me,” he reassured. “I know you wouldn’t do that.”

The last thing he wanted was for Beomgyu to have any sort of negative experiences surrounding coming to terms with his sexuality. He wished he had had a close friend to ask questions of when he was figuring things out—he just had to wing it through everything. He still didn’t quite understand why the younger trusted him that much, but more than anything, he wanted Beomgyu to get the experiences he deserved—safe, comfortable ones. 

And he couldn’t deny that he had thought about kissing Beomgyu—once or twice. 

Or quite a few times.

Which—in his defense—was probably true for anyone with eyes. 

Beomgyu was all sweet smiles and plump lips and a scrunched nose. It would actually be more surprising if someone didn’t think about kissing him.

As if on cue, big, brown eyes looked up to meet his, and he couldn’t help but melt. Beomgyu had a way about him—he made Yeonjun’s heart ache, just by existing. He was too sweet and too kind and too gentle for this world. He deserved everything and more.

Trying to be careful with his words—not wanting to make Beomgyu more nervous, but wanting to be there for him as well—Yeonjun took a deep breath. He couldn’t quite believe it. “Do you really want me to kiss you?” He asked, eyes searching over the younger’s face for any hint of hesitation. He was Beomgyu’s hyung—he had to take care of him. 

The younger broke eye contact, looking down at his hands before taking his own deep breath. His voice was smaller than Yeonjun had heard from him in a long time when he spoke again—nervous and hesitant. “I just… I don’t want to be bad at it,” he sighed, cheeks pink.

It made Yeonjun chuckle, a fond little thing. He knew Beomgyu needed to be snapped out of his awkward, uncomfortable state. 

I’m just Yeonjun, he wanted to tell him. I’m your Hyung. Don’t shut down on me.

He knew the fondness in his voice shined through the teasing. “Are you bad at kissing girls?” He chided, making Beomgyu’s mouth drop open.

“No!” The younger shrieked, eyes flickering around his face and pausing for just a second too long on his lips. 

It was hard for Yeonjun to hold back his smirk, with that flipping feeling having returned to his stomach. “Then I don’t think you need to worry, it’s not that different,” he jeered, loving the sweet pink color spreading on Beomgyu’s cheeks.

The younger’s pout was deep and dramatic. Yeonjun wanted to tease him again, to further lighten the air, until he heard the tone of his voice.

“If you don't want to kiss me you can just say that,” Beomgyu spat out, words quick and stiff.

Instantly, Yeonjun felt guilty. 

He wanted to mess around and tease the younger—lovingly—like they usually did; to make him feel comfortable and safe and relaxed. But instead, he went too far. 

Fix it, fix it, fix it, his mind screamed. 

Beomgyu wouldn’t look at him anymore—he couldn’t have that. 

Gently, he reached up to the younger’s chin. “Gyu, will you look at me please?” He asked, slowly lifting his face—slow enough that Beomgyu could resist if he wanted; he didn’t want to push him. But when he didn’t push back, Yeonjun lifted his head up the rest of the way, so they could meet eyes. 

And, oh.

Oh.

Truthfully, he thought it was a little absurd that Beomgyu would think Yeonjun wouldn’t want to kiss him. 

Because really, he would do anything for the boy in front of him—giving him his first kiss with a guy was nothing compared to the things he would do for those big, brown eyes and pouty lips. 

Before he processed what he was doing, he felt his eyes flick down to the pout, and his stomach flipped again.

And suddenly, he realized the thought of kissing Beomgyu wasn’t just a passing, casual idea. 

He wanted to kiss Beomgyu. 

Really, really badly.

His body was moving before his mind told it to—he started leaning in before he fully processed it. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured, inching forward. He gripped tighter on Beomgyu’s chin, but his words contradicted how his body seemed to be working on its own accord. “If you don’t want me to, tell me to stop.”

Please don’t say no.

Beomgyu’s pretty, long lashes fluttered closed, and Yeonjun connected their lips. 

And, oh.

Their kiss was soft and gentle, and Beomgyu’s lips were plush and damp, and Yeonjun felt dizzy.  

Trying to steady himself, he slid his hand over to the side of the younger’s face, tilting his head slightly so the angle was better. 

He kissed him—once, twice, three times. Gentle and simple. Not wanting to go overboard.

He wanted to keep going.

But, he pulled back—even though his mind was screaming at him to do the opposite.

Beomgyu spoke so soon it almost scared him. “That was lame,” he murmured, a little breathless.

Cracking his eyes open, Yeonjun had to blink a few times. His mind felt floaty, and he found himself staring at Beomgyu’s lips again. He blinked harder, trying to clear the haze in his brain. “What?”

Huffing out a sigh, and lips dropping into an even more distracting pout, Beomgyu continued. “That was lame—that was like a middle school kiss,” he whined, scowling. “That told me nothing about kissing a guy.”  

Yeonjun wasn’t sure if he wanted to kiss him again, or laugh at how ridiculous it all was. Was Beomgyu really pouting over their kiss not being good enough? 

He sighed. “I kissed you... and I’m a guy. That’s exactly what you wanted,” he argued back, finally feeling a bit more like himself and not like his head was on cloud nine.

Scratching at the back of his head, Beomgyu’s eyes got flighty. “Well yeah, I just thought,” he stammered, sounding shy again. “I just thought you’d… you know…”

Yeonjun did not know. 

Beomgyu’s eyes were fixated somewhere below him and the older was still too dazed to fully process much at all—other than the way the younger’s lashes were so long that they nearly rested on his cheeks as he looked downward. 

Clearing his throat, he continued. “What we talked about before…” Beomgyu said, like it was obvious.

Maybe it was—still though, Yeonjun didn’t understand.

Until he took in Beomgyu’s blushing ears, and curious eyes, and teeth chewing on his lip.

He understood.

Warmth spread over his entire body, and his face dropped into a smirk before he could help it—he really couldn’t hold it back if he tried. 

Because Beomgyu wanted him to take the lead; to take control. 

Yeonjun’s blood thrummed through his veins so intensely he could nearly hear it in his ears.

Sweet, gentle, big-eyed Beomgyu wanted him to kiss him—for real—and to take the lead. To take control of the kiss and enter his space and make it a real kiss. 

The realization felt like a shock wave through his body, settling in his gut. 

He tilted his head at the younger, searching over his face again for any hesitation; any tell that Beomgyu didn’t really want this. The last thing he wanted to do was take advantage of him, but god, did he want to give the boy everything he said he wanted.

Anything he wanted. 

On Beomgyu’s face, he didn’t see hesitation—nerves, yes—but not hesitation. His hands were nervously picking at the blanket below him, but his eyes were determined.

Yeonjun knew if he could get him out of his head, he would be more comfortable. If he could take away some of that anxiety, it would be a better experience for him. 

So maybe that’s what he was trying to do—partially; tease him fondly so he was less nervous. And maybe—partially—he was simply a sucker, who really wanted this.

His voice was low and teasing and thrilled when it came out. “Beomie, if you wanted me to take control you could’ve just asked,” Yeonjun smiled, watching the younger boy’s ears get impossibly more red. “Is that what you want? For Hyung to take the lead?”

In response, Beomgyu’s eyes rolled, but his pink cheeks were his tell. “Yeonjun, don’t make it weird-”

He was cut off, the older unable to hold back his words. “Is that why you asked about me before?” He guessed, unable to pull his gaze away from pink, plump lips. Beomgyu’s tongue darted out to wet them and he felt his breath stutter, heavy lidded eyes darting back up to meet the younger’s.

Trying to not get too distracted, and to keep the upper hand—since Beomgyu clearly had no idea his affect on him—Yeonjun swallowed hard, searching one last time over his face for any ounce of hesitation. Nerves were still there, but his eyes were big and dilated and kept darting to his lips.

Shrugging, Yeonjun bit back a smile. “I thought we were just kissing Gyu,” he mused, playing off as casual and relaxed. “If I knew you wanted to be topped I’d-”

The younger’s eyes widened, not letting him finish. “Fucking—shut up, ohmy-” 

Before he could process it, Beomgyu yanked him forward by his neck and smashed their lips together, cutting off his own words. It shocked a small noise out of Yeonjun, but he recovered quickly, bringing both hands up to the sides of his face and kissing back, easy and determined.

The plan had been to take the lead—until Beomgyu’s grip on his neck was relentless, and his lips easily took control of the kiss, pressing against his like a man starved. It made Yeonjun’s head feel fuzzy, letting the younger frantically move his lips against him, fingers digging into his nape. 

He squeezed particularly hard for a second, and it made Yeonjun gasp—Beomgyu wasting no time to press his tongue forward, pushing it into his mouth and exploring, desperate and fevered and dizzying. 

Maybe the younger hadn’t kissed a guy before, but he certainly had no issues with kissing in general. He tasted like strawberry soju and chapstick and Yeonjun felt like he was on another planet.

It was when he leaned closer, making the older’s head tilt back and hand hit the bed behind him that his brain finally caught up with what was supposed to be happening. He was supposed to be taking the lead—taking control and guiding Beomgyu.

Remembering that—and thinking about how badly he wanted to do just that—it kicked him into gear. 

Fighting back, he shoved his own tongue against the younger’s, making him gasp and giving him the opportunity to run it along his bottom lip teasingly, before entering his mouth. Yeonjun started moving his lips slower, calming some of the frantic energy radiating off Beomgyu. Pushing back physically too, he leaned towards him, slowly but steadily, a hand finding the back of his head to protect it just before the younger did exactly as he expected—falling back and hitting the mattress with his elbows.

Briefly, he realized that was probably enough. He didn’t need to keep kissing him—he got the idea, he was sure. 

But Beomgyu’s lips were wet and his eyes were big and dilated and his chest was heaving and Yeonjun didn’t want to stop. 

And with the way Beomgyu was looking up at him—it was clear he didn’t want to stop either.

Diving forward, he moved himself between the younger’s legs, which parted with no resistance to accommodate him. He slid his hand down the side of his body, a mix of toned muscle and ribs and soft stomach. His palm fit against his waist like it was meant to be there, Beomgyu arching into his touch like he couldn’t get close enough. 

Kissing him felt easy and simple. It felt like they’d done it hundreds of times, and like nothing else he’d ever experienced. His lips were plush and gentle, and his tongue was soft and persistent, and it was all so Beomgyu that it made him dizzy.

In the back of his mind, he knew he was supposed to be doing this to help Beomgyu have a good experience. He knew he already did more than enough, showing him the ropes. 

He also knew that this was probably the best kiss he had ever experienced, and no part of him wanted to stop. 

Beomgyu was like putty under his hands, heavy breaths between kisses and melting into his every touch. Muscled thighs twitched under his palms, and he moved without thought, sliding his hand underneath the hard muscle and yanking it upwards, trying to get even closer to the younger.

It wasn’t until a sound echoed through the quiet that Yeonjun came back down to reality.

Beomgyu whimpered at his movement—high and breathless and needy—at Yeonjun’s grip on his thigh. 

It was the prettiest sound he ever heard.

The shock of the noise made him freeze—dropping down a little closer to earth. His eyes cracked open, but his lids still felt heavy, his vision all hazy and dilated and locked on the younger’s lips, damp with a mix of their spit. And then the lips moved—and spoke. 

“Um…” Beomgyu squeaked out, voice rough and quiet and a bit far-off. 

The suddenness of it made Yeonjun jump, blinking hard and finally snapping himself out of his Beomgyu-induced haze. 

But maybe his brain hadn’t fully leveled out yet, because his next sentence came out on impulse. 

“Was that good enough for you?” 

Say no.

Yeonjun coughed, his voice gravely and throat needing to be cleared. He realized the warmth under his palm was Beomgyu’s thigh, still gripped tight under his fingers, and he let go quickly, backing up out of his space. 

Suddenly, he felt embarrassed—he went too far. 

Lashes fluttering, Beomgyu blinked up at him. “Huh?”

Yeonjun had to look away.

Trying to swallow his embarrassment, he attempted to get that teasing tone back into his voice. “Did that meet your expectations?” He chided, voice mostly jeering, but he could hear himself that it sounded a bit off. He honestly wasn’t sure what else was there. Shock? Disappointment? Intrigue? Fear? Probably all of the above, in various different ways.

Beomgyu pushed himself up, knocking his knees together clumsily and putting his back against the wall. Yeonjun already missed his warmth. “Oh!” He answered, finally. “Yeah… yes,” he stammered. “I definitely get it now… thanks.”

Settling back next to him, Yeonjun still felt overheated. “Thanks?” He questioned, relishing way too much in the press of Beomgyu’s shoulder to his. 

He needed to get a grip. 

Letting his face drop into a smirk, he tilted his head at the younger—pink cheeks and glossy, swollen lips still a bit of a distraction. “Are you thanking me for kissing you?” He snickered, adoring how Beomgyu’s ears started to get red again. “Was it that good of a kiss?”

His answer was an aggressive eye roll, and warmth spread through Yeonjun’s chest. He couldn’t help but grin, feeling incredibly pleased. 

The reaction made him get hit in the face with a pillow. “Shut up,” Beomgyu whined through his giggles. 

Yeonjun’s cheeks hurt from smiling while he fell asleep.

—

When he woke up in the morning, he was confused—part of him was elated, the other half was filled with dread. 

Because when he awoke, his very first thought was soft pink lips and pretty brown eyes and that incredible noise Beomgyu made when Yeonjun hitched his thigh up around him.

The memory made him hot all over, and it made him filled with guilt.

He couldn’t like Beomgyu—there was no way.

He was Beomgyu’s hyung. He was the oldest of the group. 

He was supposed to care for the younger members and keep them safe, not have a crush on one of them. He was supposed to be a good influence—if something happened between him and Beomgyu, and things ended badly, it would be all his fault, for even letting things happen.

It had to be just a fluke. 

Just because he enjoyed a kiss with an attractive person, didn’t have to mean he liked him. That was just normal, right? 

Who wouldn’t like kissing Beomgyu—with his soft lips and his wandering tongue and his sweet little noises. 

Something twitched in Yeonjun’s gut. 

No, he scolded himself. You’re Beomgyu’s hyung. Attraction to someone, and liking them is not the same, he repeated to himself.

It’s just attraction—nothing more.

When he got up from bed, he went straight to the company to throw himself into extra dance practice—to get his mind off things. He forced thoughts of Beomgyu away from his mind.

He convinced himself it was nothing more. 

He hoped he could stay convinced.

Fall/Winter 2020

Yeonjun had to beg Soobin to ask Beomgyu to hang out with them—not that the leader didn’t want him to be included, but he was adamant about Yeonjun being the one to ask. He did care though, eventually, once the oldest refused for the umpteenth time, and Soobin simply got sick of his whining.

The problem was that things were still sort of weird between him and Beomgyu—they were getting better, for sure, but Yeonjun had already asked the younger to hang out multiple times that week, and he felt like it was too much to ask again. He felt like he was being too much.

He wanted to fix things with Beomgyu, but he felt like he was constantly walking a tightrope—if he leaned too far in one direction, everything would tumble down. 

But thankfully, Soobin must’ve pitied him, and Beomgyu said yes to joining them. However—when it came to actually hanging out—it seemed like he wished he said no; considering how drunk he got. 

Yeonjun had used the excuse of getting expensive whiskey as a gift for them to all hang out and try it while watching a movie. Team bonding, he had told Soobin—who, in response, muttered something that sounded suspiciously like team pining, more like it, but refused to repeat it when Yeonjun pressed.

He had thought it was a good idea—to have the alcohol to loosen up; to break down any leftover tension between him and Beomgyu.

Beomgyu, however, seemed to be trying to absolutely drown any leftover tension between them with the alcohol. 

It did hurt, a little—knowing the younger still felt awkward enough around him that he thought it was easier to just get blackout drunk than spend a normal night with him. But honestly, he couldn’t really blame him. He had considered doing the same thing, until he saw how quickly Beomgyu was drinking, and switched to sipping on water between drinks, so he could keep an eye on him. 

Every time the younger refilled his glass, he found himself staring, willing him to slow down. Before everything, he would’ve just told Beomgyu to chill; now—walking on that tightrope—he simply tried his best to watch from the corner of his eye, not wanting the younger to take any comment of his too personally.

They weren’t even halfway through the movie they had put on when Beomgyu’s drunk head flopped back on the couch, letting out a groan. “This movie is boring,” he complained, voice too loud in the small living room.

Unable to help it, Yeonjun snorted. “Can you even see the movie, at this point?” He teased, glancing over to the younger and noticing his exposed throat, which was slightly pink from the alcohol. It distracted his own slightly tipsy brain.

Head snapping upwards, Beomgyu blinked hard, eyes half closed. He gestured around the room haphazardly, nearly smacking Kai, who was seated next to him and playing a game on his phone. “I can see that nobody here is even paying attention,” he argued, words mushed together drunkenly.

Despite the fact that he was sloshed, Yeonjun still thought he was awfully endearing; hazy eyes and pouty lips. 

“Do you need some water?” He asked, giggling a bit at his drunken dramatics. It was a rhetorical question, really, since he was already getting up to get some.

Drunk and protesting, Beomgyu’s groans were ignored while Kai insisted he needed at least a gallon, which made Yeonjun’s giggles continue while entering the kitchen. 

Beomgyu’s voice still rang out—too loud, probably unaware of his volume. “I’m fine,” he insisted, somehow slurring the words despite an S nowhere to be found in the sentence. 

Kai disagreed. “You’re another sip away from your head in the toilet.”

Chuckling to himself, Yeonjun had just started filling a water bottle when heard a squeal, and knew Beomgyu had gotten to his level of drunk where he wanted to start wrestling with everyone—which usually ended with either vomit, or someone getting hurt. Soobin was telling them to be careful, but by the sounds of Kai’s giggles, they were ignoring his warnings, and continuing the play fighting.

Hurrying back, something violent gnawed at Yeonjun’s stomach when he re-entered the room to find Kai flat on the couch with Beomgyu straddling his stomach. The giggles between the two of them were innocent, but the position was not. His stomach twisted.

Before he could process it, his hand was gripped in the back of Beomgyu’s shirt, yanking him off the youngest. He went easily, unable to control his intoxicated body, and fell back into the armrest with a small, surprised noise. 

And then unfocused chocolate eyes looked up at Yeonjun, big and round—it made him melt, the way that gaze often did.

He was a sucker for those eyes, and Beomgyu knew it. He always had been, and the younger learned that early on, using it to his advantage to get what he wanted. The jealous curl in Yeonjun’s stomach unraveled at the sight. 

Trying to hold back a fond smile, he forced himself to release the younger’s shirt. “You’re gonna spill your drink, or throw up on Kai,” he chastised, feeling the edges of his mouth turn up—Beomgyu was blinking up at him, dazed, and Yeonjun couldn’t help but be partially amused at his antics. “There is no reason to be on top of him like that,” he added, hearing the slight edge in his own voice at the thought of Beomgyu’s muscular thighs straddling Kai. He hoped the younger was too drunk to notice his tone. 

He wasn’t. 

Or, he was very drunk, but apparently still able to see right through Yeonjun regardless. A slow smile spread over his face, eyes glinting, and it had the older remembering those eyes looking up at him in the same way—in a very different situation; one that he really shouldn’t be thinking about anymore. Not after everything.

Those eyes blinked at him innocently. “Why, you jealous?” Beomgyu smirked, raising his eyebrows at the older suggestively. 

Yeonjun’s response was unavoidable, heat rushing over him while trying—and failing, he’s sure—to keep his face neutral. 

Because he was—jealous.

It was a weird thing he had been going through.

He figured—he hoped—it was just the aftermath of everything between them; that twinging that kept happening in his chest. The inability to forget those few words Beomgyu said a month ago.

It’s not your fault you don’t love me back. 

The whole situation—his treacherous brain—had him confused. He kept misinterpreting signals and getting weird feelings in his chest and Beomgyu’s drunk teasing was not helpful to his problem.

It’s just feelings left over from before, he kept telling himself. They’re not feelings feelings.

He didn’t have long to think about it though, because Beomgyu never got the chance to say anything else, a hand shooting up over his mouth. “Oh fuck,” he murmured, leaping up off the couch and sprinting towards the bathroom. 

“Not it!” Kai called, watching after him with a disgusted look on his face—as if it was necessary to call out of taking care of drunk, puking Beomgyu, when the oldest was already following behind him.

Yeonjun was trying to be relaxed about the whole thing and not sprint after him, like he wanted to. He knew he’d never hear the end of it if he took off after Beomgyu like a worried spouse. He heard Soobin say something about of course he’s going, and he wondered if the leader could read his mind.

But if he started speed walking the second he made it out of sight—the other members didn’t have to know.

Thankfully, Beomgyu made it to the toilet, doubled over and retching inside when Yeonjun arrived in the bathroom. Falling to his knees, he hovered behind him, rubbing over his back. “You’re alright,” he murmured, the gagging noises Beomgyu was making nearly drowning him out. “Get it out, it’s okay.” He reached up, pushing sweaty hair off the younger’s forehead—he was still gagging so much he wasn’t sure it was even noticed. “You’ll feel better after,” he reassured, still unsure he was even being heard.

He continued murmuring small comforts and rubbing over Beomgyu’s back until nothing more was coming out of him, and he looked up; bleary eyed, tear stains on his face. 

It was unfair.

Beomgyu had just finished puking—he had snot dripping out of his nose—and he was beautiful.

Unfairly stunning.

And then this mouth opened, and Yeonjun’s heart cracked. 

“Well… if you didn’t like me before, you definitely won’t like me now,” he giggled, clearly still half drunk and finding himself quite amusing. Yeonjun did not find it amusing.

You’d be surprised, he thought, suddenly. It came so quickly, he wasn’t even sure where it came from; like an impulse, or an intrusive thought.  

He felt his shoulders sag, dread filling him. “Beomgyu…” He lamented, something twisting in his chest. He tried to ignore it. At his reaction, the younger’s drunk, goofy grin dropped and Yeonjun handed him the water bottle. “Drink some of this.”

Beomgyu pushed it away, a still intoxicated movement. His pout was deep and Yeonjun tried to not focus on it too much. “You’re no fun,” he complained, glaring at the older. “It was a joke… you’re supposed to laugh.”

In an attempt to not get fixated on Beomgyu’s sweet little pouty lips, Yeonjun looked him over completely. “You have puke on your shirt,” he told him, reaching for the bottom of his tee. “Arms up.”

With no hesitation, Beomgyu lifted his arms, letting him begin to pull off his vomit-splashed shirt. “Do you see this?” He said, towards the corner of the bathroom, over the older’s shoulder. “Now he’s undressing me.”

In another situation, Yeonjun would’ve laughed at the joke—but he really didn’t want to encourage Beomgyu’s odd drunken mood. “Please tell me you’re not seeing things,” he sighed, finally getting the shirt off of the younger, using it to wipe at his face as it came off, trying to get some of the sweat and vomit off of him. 

“Jokes, Yeonjjunie,” Beomgyu lectured, still slurring a bit. “You’re so slow tonight.”

Sighing again, the older fixed him with his best Hyung gaze. “I just—I don’t want to…” Yeonjun started to say, but was cut off by Beomgyu leaping upwards again, another round of vomit starting. His hand returned to his now bare back, rubbing over it and drawing patterns on his skin the way he knew Beomgyu liked, murmuring comforts as he gagged.

Finally, when it seemed like there was nothing left in him, Beomgyu collapsed backwards, leaning up against the tub. Without a word, Yeonjun handed him the water from before, which he took this time, beginning to chug. The older frowned. “Hey, slow down,” he told him, hands darting out to tug the end of the bottle downwards, forcing him to stop drinking so quickly. “Little sips. You’ll make yourself sick again.”

Scowling a little, Beomgyu obliged regardless, twisting the lid back on. Yeonjun reached up to the counter and grabbed some tissues, waiting for the younger to blow his nose and holding out his hand for the trash. Easily, the tissues were handed over, but he scowled again a second later. “You took my snotty tissue,” Beomgyu mumbled, sounding somewhere between shocked and disgusted. “That’s gross.”

Deciding that he was probably puke free—at least for now—Yeonjun stood up, turning on the sink and dropping the tissue in the trash. He wanted to fix the frown on the younger’s face, so he took a risk. “I’ve dealt with worse, from you,” he joked, glancing to Beomgyu, red cheeked and leaning against the tub. Pretty.

Snorting, his eyes rolled. “Oh, now he has jokes,” the younger groused, sipping at his water.

For a few minutes, Yeonjun allowed the sound of the sink running to fill the room, washing the vomit off of Beomgyu’s shirt and wringing it out before dropping it in the hamper. Turning back to him, he caught sight of him just in time to see him topple over onto his side, head in his hands. “Can you just leave me here to die?” He complained, voice whiny and exaggerated. 

Yeonjun had to hold back a grin at his dramatics. “No, Gyu-ah, I can’t do that,” he chuckled, watching him wrap his arms around his knees, tucking them into his chest. As obnoxiously whiny as Beomgyu was, Yeonjun still had the urge to wrap him in a blanket and tuck him into bed.  “You think you got it all out, or…?”

Glancing towards the toilet, Beomgyu nodded. “I don’t think there’s anything left in me.”

Yeonjun nodded, resisting the urge to offer to run him a bath—to pick him up right from the floor and place him in warm water; to run his hands through his hair, shampoo it and scratch over his scalp—he stopped himself, suddenly. Where the fuck did that come from? He thought, scolding himself for the thoughts. These aren’t real feelings. You’re just confused.

He cleared his throat. “You think you could shower without drowning yourself?” 

The glare Beomgyu gave told him he was probably nearly sober, at this point. “I’m tipsy, not unconscious.”

Narrowing his eyes, Yeonjun looked him over, taking in his slightly flushed cheeks but clear eyes. They distracted him, for a second. Warm brown and gentle and blinking up at him in that tired way that told him if he left Beomgyu for ten more minutes on his own, he’d sleep right there, on the tile floor. 

And then those eyes narrowed a little, and Yeonjun realized he’d been staring for too long. “Okay,” he said, clapping his hands together as a way of snapping himself out of his weird haze. Beomgyu flinched at this noise, bringing a hand up to rub at his temples. Yeonjun held back a remark about drinking responsibly. “I’m going to go get you clothes, and you’re going to shower.” 

He was about to turn to go—to get himself out of the room before big brown eyes caused him to do something crazy—until a plush, pink lip jutted out, and a voice, quiet and conflicted and almost… aching, stopped him. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Beomgyu asked, his eyes matching his tone—he looked like he might cry.

The crack in Yeonjun’s heart splintered even more. 

He wanted to cry.

Did Beomgyu really think he would leave him there, alone—tipsy and sick and nearly asleep on the bathroom floor? Did he think Yeonjun didn’t care?

Did he not realize that Yeonjun had always had a serious soft spot for him—that it had grown into something so much more than that; he would do anything for him?

His eyebrows furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Yeonjun asked, trying to not let his voice show how much it hurt—to know that Beomgyu doubted him.

He knew the reason why he did, though; why he didn’t trust him anymore. 

He knew he was the one to blame for Beomgyu’s insecurity.

He fucking hated it.

Fix it, fix it, fix it.

Unable to help it, he reached down, rubbing a hand over Beomgyu’s head gently. “I’m gonna go get you clothes—get in the shower while I’m gone, okay?”

Worried eyes softened, and something in Yeonjun’s chest thudded so loudly, he thought the younger might be able to hear it. Beomgyu nodded, blinking up at him so slowly, his eyes were nearly closed under Yeonjun’s touch. When they blinked open again, there was so much emotion there he had to force himself to turn on his heel and leave the bathroom before he really did something stupid. 

Closing the door behind him, Yeonjun pressed his back to it, rubbing his hands over his face with a deep breath. His heart was still thudding in his chest too quickly, and his body felt warm all over. 

What the hell was that? He thought to himself, padding towards Beomgyu and Soobin’s room. You have to get it together—you have to get past those weird left over feelings. 

Not feelings. 

You have to get over… whatever that thing is in your chest that keeps happening around Beomgyu—that warm feeling, he told himself. Even if you did have feelings, you missed your chance—you already hurt him enough. You can’t confuse him with your confused thoughts.

You just care about him—platonically. That’s all.

Lost in his spiraling thoughts, Yeonjun nearly had a heart attack when he flicked the light on in the other two Choi’s room to find Soobin, sitting straight up on the edge of his bed. 

Yeonjun screamed. Soobin screamed in response.

“Jesus christ,” Yeonjun breathed out, hand on his chest. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Soobin’s look of terror dropped into a glare when he realized it was just the oldest. “This is my room.”

“Why are you sitting there in the dark like a freak?” Yeonjun questioned, gesturing to his perch on the bed. 

Soobin yawned. “I was about to lay down, I was just checking my phone before plugging it in,” he explained, words slurring a little. He must’ve continued to drink while Beomgyu and Yeonjun were spending time in the bathroom thinking about never drinking again. “Is he okay?”

Yeonjun crossed the room, going to the closet Beomgyu and Soobin shared. “He’s alright—puked up everything he drank, I think,” he told the leader, who was now actually getting into bed, punching at his pillows. “He’s in the shower.”

Soobin hummed. “Okay, good,” he murmured. “Thank you for helping him.”

Pausing his digging through clothes, Yeonjun turned, furrowing his brows at the man behind him. “Why are you thanking me? Of course I’d help him—he’s sick.”

Shrugging, Soobin fixed him with a knowing look. “Well yeah, but…” He started, glancing over Yeonjun like he was reading him—he was good at that. “I just… I know things haven’t been the most… comfortable between you guys lately,” he said slowly, like he was choosing his words carefully. “I just wasn’t sure if you’d feel too awkward to help him.”

“Never,” Yeonjun said firmly—almost harshly. He didn’t mean to be so aggressive, but he couldn’t imagine letting Beomgyu puke his guts out without helping him, no matter the awkward comments and distracting pink lips. “I mean—he needed help. Helping him comes first, always.” He turned back into the closet, feeling his ears heat up at how serious he sounded. 

The leader hummed again, in that way that Yeonjun knew he was thinking a lot more than he was saying, but wasn’t going to spill unless he begged—and truly, he wasn’t sure he even wanted to know what was going through his head. 

Instead, he grabbed a hoodie that looked vaguely familiar. “Is this yours?” He changed the subject, turning to show it to Soobin as he walked across the room. 

“That’s yours,” he replied after giving it a glance. “Or—I mean, it was yours, until Beomgyu stole it forever ago and you never asked for it back because you’re a sucker.”

Yeonjun paused at Beomgyu’s dresser, hand hovering over a pair of boxers. His eyes flicked up to Soobin with a glare, but the leader wasn’t even looking his way; he was tapping at his phone, clearly playing a game. He huffed out an annoyed sigh. “Whatever,” he grumbled, closing the sock drawer and heading for the door. 

He was halfway out of the room when Soobin spoke up again. “Are you gonna help him shower, too?” 

A middle finger reached around the door before slamming it closed, the sounds of Soobin’s cackles audible through the wood.

Back in the bathroom, Yeonjun set the clothes down on the counter, dropping the toilet seat lid down and planting himself there, waiting for Beomgyu to be done. He knew he wasn’t still wasted, but he wanted to get eyes on him one last time before bed to make sure he was okay. He also didn’t want him to tumble over in the shower and drown himself.

The younger was humming on the other side of the curtain, a tune Yeonjun couldn’t quite recognize—but the deep, melodic voice was a tone he could recognize even if he was in a coma. The rushing of water and the clicking of soap bottles and Beomgyu’s pretty voice filled the steamy air, and Yeonjun felt more relaxed—more peaceful—than he had in months; since before their fight. If you could even call it that. 

Truthfully, he had no clue what to call what happened between them.

They didn’t fight, really. They didn’t argue or yell or bash each other. There wasn’t really a disagreement over anything—unless you considered feelings not matching up a disagreement. 

Maybe it would be considered a break up? But, they were never together—at least, Yeonjun didn’t see it like that; which, clearly, was part of the problem. Still though, break up was the closest word to how it felt.

Beomgyu’s voice cracked and he snorted at himself—the sound pulling Yeonjun out of his thoughts. He smiled, listening to the younger clear his throat then continue to hum, singing lyrics he didn’t recognize here and there. He sort of wished he could sit there every night, listening to Beomgyu’s sweet humming and low singing in the warmth of the bathroom, which the younger made incredibly steamy, always taking the hottest showers.

Lost in his thoughts, he got nearly scared to death for a second time that night when Beomgyu whipped the shower curtain open, letting out a scream the second he saw Yeonjun sitting there. 

He jumped, screaming in response for a split second, before controlling himself. “Shh,” Yeonjun hushed, handing Beomgyu—who was frantically trying to cover his lower half—a towel. “It’s late.”

Pink all over from the hot water, and dripping wet, Beomgyu was—well, Beomgyu was a dream. It was undeniable. 

“I didn’t expect you to still be here,” he defended himself, water droplets clinging to his long eyelashes. His cheeks were extra pink, and Yeonjun wondered if it was the hot water, or the way he kept awkwardly trying to cover himself—as if he was hiding something the older hadn’t seen before. 

But just because Yeonjun had seen every inch of Beomgyu, didn’t mean he wasn’t tempted to stare. Now though, the context was very different, so he tried his best to keep his eyes upwards, on the other’s face. Which, truly wasn’t much better; he still wanted to stare at his pretty features. 

Feigning normalcy, he shrugged. “I wanted to make sure you didn’t pass out, or something,” he defended himself, hoping it sounded believable. He did want to make sure Beomgyu was okay—he was just then realizing that he could’ve simply waited outside the door, rather than in the bathroom. He hadn’t thought about how it looked. 

He got an eye roll in response, but Beomgyu’s ears grew darker red, and even his chest was pink. “I’m fine,” he alleged, stepping over the edge of the tub and immediately slipping on a puddle. Yeonjun’s hand shot out, but the younger caught himself quickly, not slipping far. The look he gave told the older to keep his mouth shut. He huffed. “I’m also naked.”

Boy, do I know.

Yeonjun blinked at his own thoughts, scolding himself.

Fearing Beomgyu could somehow read his mind, he shrugged again, trying to play it all off as a joke. Still though, the small smirk on his face, and the mischievous tone that creeped into his voice was completely genuine. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Even the fake glare Beomgyu sent him made his stomach swirl.

Get it together.

Stepping the other foot out of the shower, the younger seemed to forget about the giant puddle he left on the floor, because yet again, his foot slipped—and this time, he didn’t look like he would catch himself. 

In an instant, Yeonjun leapt up, diving forward so Beomgyu’s body hit his, forearms in his grasp and leaned against him. He stumbled back into the counter, the impact on his ass making him groan as he gripped the younger tightly, making sure he didn’t fall. 

And then he realized his position. 

At some point, he had wrapped an arm around Beomgyu’s bare torso, holding him up. The younger had one arm trapped between them, the other gripped to his shoulder. They were so close his shirt was getting wet and he could feel the warmth of the shower radiating from damp skin onto him.

Beomgyu was damp and flushed and smelled like Yeonjun’s shower gel.

His hair was stuck to his forehead in chunks and a bead of water dripped down the side of his face and his pupils grew as they kept eye contact. 

Beautiful.

Yeonjun couldn’t breathe.

He watched in agony as Beomgyu’s eyes dropped to his lips, holding there for a second. Pretty, long eyelashes fluttered, gaze fixed. 

Gorgeous. He’s so fucking gorgeous.

Kiss him.

The thought made Yeonjun suck in a breath; shock and confusion and something else entirely filling his body. 

At the noise, Beomgyu blinked hard, quickly stepping away. His face was unreadable—he wouldn’t look him in the eyes anymore. “You should go,” he stated, voice gravely and tight and a tone that made Yeonjun’s stomach hurt, and not in that weird giddy way it had been. “I can get to bed on my own.”

Yeonjun’s chest felt so tight he wanted to put his hand to it, to see if his skin was really stretched to its limits across his heart. “Right… okay,” he breathed out, stuttering a little. He couldn’t get his body to move. The room felt thick with something that made his heart thump loudly in his chest, and glued his feet to the floor like they were covered in quicksand.

Glancing at him for only a second, a wry smile came onto Beomgyu’s face, but his voice was still a little awkward. “I’m gonna get naked again, and I’m not putting on another show for you,” he chided, the normalcy of the teasing finally snapping Yeonjun out of his haze.

Breathing out a laugh, he rolled his eyes, trying to fight back a grin. His face felt hot and he hoped it was the warmth of the room and not a visible blush. “You’re sure you’re okay?” He asked, reaching up to rub over one of his red-hot ears.

Smacking his foot down in the puddle, Beomgyu adjusted the towel at his waist, catching Yeonjun’s eye. “I slipped because of this,” he insisted, flicking his foot toward the older to try and splash him. The older was distracted. “I’m merely tipsy at this point—vomited it all out.”

He only half heard the younger, still fixated on Beomgyu’s still dripping torso and the way narrow hips broadened into more built shoulders. He was dainty and lean and beautiful. Yeonjun missed being able to kiss every inch of his honey skin.

Swallowing hard, and forcing his gaze back to Beomgyu’s face, he met his eyes, looking over his features to make sure he really seemed more coherent than he was before. He almost wished he was still more drunk—so he could have an excuse to stay and help. 

Not that he was dying to see Beomgyu naked—he wasn’t being creepy. He had seen all of him before, and they were used to being at least semi-naked in front of each other regularly, spending half their time in dressing rooms on a tight schedule. He just wanted to help the younger, to make sure he was cared for and safe and comfortable in bed. 

He wouldn’t stare—if Beomgyu didn’t want him to. He’d turn around when he changed and then help him dry his hair and tuck him in across the room from Soobin, a glass of water and painkillers on his nightstand.

Glimpses of the line of his shoulders and the hard muscles of his legs and his back dimples would just be a plus. 

Reaching up, Beomgyu scratched at his shoulder as if he could hear Yeonjun’s thoughts—it snapped him out it; he felt a little guilty. Sighing, he nodded. “Fine, but text me when you’re safe in bed or I’ll come check on you in 30 minutes,” he warned, fixing the younger with a hard stare.

Beomgyu nodded, holding his hand up like he was swearing into office, or something—it made Yeonjun smile. “Yes, Mom.”

His smile dropped, nose wrinkling. “Don’t call me that.”

A glint flashed over Beomgyu’s eyes—one he hadn’t seen in quite awhile. “Sorry,” he put both hands up in defense, a smirk dropping onto his face. “Yes, Mommy.” 

Gut twisting, Yeonjun yelled, jumping forward to try and smack the younger. As usual, Beomgyu slipped out of the way with ease, giggling up a storm. Not actually ever wanting to hurt him, the older gave up as quickly as he started, making sure to roll his eyes as he moved towards the door. 

That warm feeling filled his chest. 

Turning in the doorframe, he looked over the younger one last time—wet and pink and smiling, all teeth and whisker dimples and shining eyes; his most genuine smile. A sight Yeonjun hadn’t seen in far too long.

His heart clenched.

“Goodnight, Beomgyu,” he said firmly, unable to stop the fond smile he knew was on his lips.

The younger’s grin turned into something softer too, meeting Yeonjun’s gaze.

His heart thumped so hard he thought it might burst from his chest. 

“Night, Hyung,” he said softly, turning towards the mirror. 

Yeonjun closed the door quietly behind him, leaning against it again.

Fuck—I am fucked.

—

Nearly 30 minutes later—when Yeonjun was just about to head back to the bathroom to check on him, his phone dinged from where it was sitting in his hand, waiting for the message.

beoms: I’m safe in bed

beoms: no need to get your panties in a twist over it

Yeonjun’s grin was brighter than his phone screen in his dark bedroom.

I’ll let you drown in your puke next time, brat.

Staring at the screen, he saw Beomgyu type and delete things multiple times. He wondered if his text came across wrong, if the younger didn't read it as teasing, and read it as genuine—like Yeonjun didn’t care. 

He wondered why the hell he was overthinking every single little thing that had to do with Beomgyu. He wondered how the hell he was going to get his shit together. 

He had no fucking clue what the hell was going on with his brain.

He settled for simple. 

sleep well, Beomgyu

The reply was instant.

beoms: you too Hyung :)

Even the stupid smiley face made his stomach flip.

He had to get it together. 

Or he was so fucked.

Summer 2021

When Beomgyu started seeing someone, Yeonjun was relieved. Well, maybe not completely relieved, but he figured it would be good for him. If Beomgyu was dating someone, then Yeonjun surely would be able to get over him, right? His feelings would fade seeing Beomgyu with someone else, and the last thing he wanted to do was interfere with the younger’s happiness. So, he thought it would be good for him—to get the idea of being with Beomgyu off the table.

He was wrong.

That all-encompassing jealousy that flooded his mind when he first overheard Beomgyu say he was going on a date was still rearing its ugly, green head, even after these dates had been going on for nine and a half weeks—not that Yeonjun was counting.

Granted, he still hadn’t met the guy—he still hadn’t seen the two of them together. So, once he did witness Beomgyu being around someone else romantically, maybe then he could get past it. Thinking about him dating someone else was different than seeing it first hand.

He even tried to be a good friend and ask Beomgyu about him—about their relationship—but the younger seemed very flippant about the whole thing; short answers and excuses. It worried him, a little. The first time he asked, he assumed the younger’s shortness about it all was due to their history—maybe Beomgyu felt awkward talking to him about it, after what they’d been through. 

After what Yeonjun put him through.

But then he overheard Soobin ask about a second or third date and the younger brushed it off the same way. 

“It was fine,” Beomgyu said, voice unconvincingly neutral.

Knowing Soobin, the silence that followed was an unimpressed one—if Yeonjun peeked around the wall into the living room, he could’ve checked the look on Soobin’s face. However, that would mean the two on the couch would know he was listening into their conversation, headphones long taken off and sat on the counter next to him as he cooked. 

He hadn’t taken them off to eavesdrop—at least, not at first. His ears hurt.

If he was originally planning on putting them back on after a few minutes, but refrained once he heard the conversation going on in the next room over—then that was for him to know and the others to not.

He could picture Soobin’s face perfectly. “Just fine?” He asked, eyebrows probably raised with that questioning look that says he knows you’re lying. 

Beomgyu hummed, like it didn’t matter.

Yeonjun knew it did—things mattered to Beomgyu more than they did to most people; Yeonjun knew that.

“He was kinda rude to the waiter,” he said casually—like it didn’t matter, even though it did.

Soobin scoffed, and probably rolled his eyes. It took everything in Yeonjun to not do the same from the quiet kitchen. “Red flag.”

Yeonjun wanted to agree. 

If he was worried about Beomgyu before, the conversation he overheard made it leagues worse. Especially when he started to notice Jiwoon’s name popping up on Beomgyu’s phone repeatedly—buzz after buzz after buzz—then have to watch the younger’s mood go sour, typing furiously and putting on a fake smile once his phone was locked.

Is he treating you right? Yeonjun wanted to ask him, but never got the guts. (Especially because a little voice in the back of his mind loved to remind him that he himself didn’t treat Beomgyu right.)

His worries were what led him to staying up when the younger was out with this guy—Jiwoon—and waiting for him to come home. Usually, he would stay awake in his room, listening for the sound of the front door clicking shut or the shower running; even if the ladder option made that little green monster inside him livid because of what it could imply.

You have no right to be jealous, a more sane voice in his head told him. You shouldn’t be jealous—he’s not yours. He never was.

It was mostly his worries that led him to waiting up on the couch for Beomgyu—and partially, it was that little green monster telling him he should catch a glimpse of the younger when he got home; to see if it was obvious that Beomgyu was sleeping with the guy. If he came home with his hair mussed and shirt untucked and that little red flush to his cheeks he got when… well, Yeonjun knew he probably shouldn’t think too much about that anymore.

Not that it was his business—if Beomgyu was sleeping with they guy or not. No matter how much it kept him up at night, tossing and turning. No matter how many horrible dreams he had about having to watch the younger kiss some nameless man. No matter how many better dreams he had where he got to experience being the nameless man—which usually ended with him waking up incredibly hot and bothered and having to shove a hand in his boxers.

He was really just looking for anything that would give him that final push to get over the younger.

What he didn’t mean to do, was fall asleep while waiting for Beomgyu. He meant to busy himself watching something on TV, and then have a notebook next to him, so when the younger got home, he could make it look like he was writing lyrics because he couldn’t sleep. It would’ve been believable if he didn’t fall asleep without the TV even on, and the notebook closed next to him, a pen nowhere in sight. He was exhausted, and one second he was on his phone, planning to scroll for a minute before turning the tv on, and the next he was startled awake when the room was suddenly lit up, blinding him for a second.

Blinking hard, his vision cleared to find the reason he had a serious ache in his neck from sleeping upright. “You scared me,” Beomgyu huffed out, a hand on his chest as he stepped closer to the older, his head thankfully somewhat blocking the light on the ceiling. 

Yeonjun’s eyes were heavy. “I must’ve fallen asleep,” he murmured, feeling a smile spread across his face at the vision of Beomgyu in front of him, unable to help it. His heart relaxed a little, seeing the younger home. 

That is, until he saw he wasn’t alone. 

That little green monster woke up too, galloping back into his chest like it was a gay, Shrek-colored version of Paul Revere. The British weren’t coming, but the man Beomgyu had been dating was standing in front of him. He felt his smile drop. 

“Oh.”

Beomgyu’s eyes narrowed at the one syllable that Yeonjun could spit out, until he noticed the older’s gaze fixed over his shoulder. 

You’re Beomgyu’s hyung, Yeonjun told himself, trying to shove that evil chartreuse thing in his chest down as far as he could. He’s not yours—he never was. 

You’re Beomgyu’s hyung, you have to behave. You have to make sure he’s safe and happy.

Speaking before either of the others, Yeonjun trained his voice into as much politeness as he could manage. “You must be Jiwoon,” he said, trying to sound less like a half-asleep, pissed off ogre and more like a supportive friend. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

He heard the emphasis on finally in his own voice—not entirely purposeful, but not regretful either. He did feel like Beomgyu had been hiding everything about Jiwoon from him.

You’re Beomgyu’s hyung.

He’s not yours.

Jiwoon was not as good as him in hiding the emotion in his voice—and he was cleary not the best, so that’s saying something. “You must be Yeonjun,” he answered, teeth nearly gritted.

Yeonjun had no idea what Beomgyu saw in him. 

He’s not yours. Play nice.

“That’s me,” He chuckled nervously, unable to stop himself from looking to Beomgyu for a split second. The way Jiwoon spoke about him made him feel uneasy. “How’d you know?”

The smile that crossed over Jiwoon’s face, and the laugh he let out could rival the Joker—absolutely humorless, and filled to the brim with aversion. “Well Beomgyu talks about you so much—so I figured, if anyone was waiting up for him, it’d be you.” 

It was clear that Yeonjun wasn’t the only one with something brewing in his chest. 

He wasn’t sure what he possibly could’ve done, though—to make Jiwoon hate him before they even met. He felt his eyebrows furrow and subconsciously lifted a hand up to fiddle with his earrings, self-soothing. “I wasn’t waiting up, I just fell asleep,” he lied—partially—thankful that he finally got a hold of his voice. He sounded believable; at least, to a stranger. 

Standing from the couch, a little thrill went through him when it was instantly obvious how much taller he was than Jiwoon. Sure, height isn’t that important, but a sick part of him reveled in the realization, because he knew—since a drunk Beomgyu told him, one night—that the younger preferred men his height or taller. 

Like Yeonjun.

And Jiwoon was shorter than Beomgyu.

Maybe that little bit of superiority—and feeling a little bit attacked for no reason—is what pushed his voice back into something questionable; no longer fully neutral and polite. 

At least he knew he wasn’t the one who started this all. Jiwoon came swinging on him, in his own living room, the second he opened his eyes.

“I’m not sure why it matters, anyways,” Yeonjun frowned just slightly, holding eye contact with Jiwoon. He tried to look more confused, rather than unimpressed, but he wasn’t sure how well he did and truthfully didn’t care—until he saw Beomgyu’s head whip towards him at his words; fake nicety written in every syllable.

The stranger let out a scoff, and Beomgyu finally spoke up at the noise, a pout stuck on his face. “You know, maybe we should just call it a night.”

His words nearly made Yeonjun laugh out loud. 

He chose you, that proud little creature in his chest cheered. He wants to stay here with you, over being with him.

And for a split second—before he controlled it—a gleeful smile almost spread across his face. Catching himself, he pushed that voice away and trained his expression into something more neutral, as Jiwoon’s face morphed into something very close to disgust.

“What?” He barked, the volume way too loud for the hour of the night. 

At the sight of Beomgyu’s frown deepening, that bit of glee Yeonjun felt disappeared, as quickly as it came. Instead, guilt gnawed at his bones—he felt like this was his fault; his attitude towards Jiwoon set something off.

You’re Beomgyu’s hyung.

He’s not yours.

Knowing he needed to play nice—knowing he needed to cut off whatever agenda Jiwoon had composed about him in his head (however true it may be)—Yeonjun held up his hands in a placating manner, looking between the other two men. “I’m gonna go to bed,” he said, moving to turn down the hallway.

But he barely moved a step when Beomgyu’s voice rang out, freezing him in his spot. “No!” The younger spat out, frantic and worried.

Yeonjun wouldn’t move even if Jiwoon forced him to.

Still though, it was unexpected—Beomgyu nearly begging for him to stay. He couldn’t take his eyes off the younger, worry flooding through him. Is he scared of Jiwoon, or something? He thought. Why does he want me to stay when this guy clearly wants nothing to do with me?

The jerk spoke through the tense silence. “No?” He repeated, incredulous. “What on earth do you need him here for?” He questioned, gesturing towards Yeonjun in a way that resembled how someone would gesture towards roadkill.

“Really, I can g-” Yeonjun started, not wanting to push anything too far. But his mouth closed immediately when Beomgyu held up a hand towards him; his jaw clicked with the speed at which it snapped shut.

The younger’s eyebrows were furrowed, a little wrinkle in the middle showing his anger. “What’s your issue?” He asked, stepping closer to Jiwoon and crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeonjun lives here too, you know.”

That inappropriately timed satisfaction flickered in Yeonjun’s chest again.

Jiwoon’s eyes rolled. “Oh yeah, I’m well aware.”

Feeling like his mind and body were on a roller coaster, something twisted in Yeonjun’s stomach again, the glee he had felt seconds before dropping away again. He still had no clue why this guy had some sort of preconceived notions about him—and truthfully, he couldn’t care less what he thought of him. 

But seeing Beomgyu’s frustrated face, and hearing the tension in his voice—he still felt guilty, for some reason; like he did something wrong and he was the reason for Jiwoon acting like this.

The annoyance was clear in Beomgyu’s voice. “Why do you keep saying shit like that?” He asked, scowling at Jiwoon. 

The answer came quickly. “I think you know why,” he spat out, glancing towards Yeonjun for a split second.

That twist in his gut repeated, a thought flashing across his mind. He knows, he realized, stomach churning. Even this stranger knows I like him—he thinks I’m a homewrecker, or something. This is my fault. 

Beomgyu is angry and upset and dealing with this because of me.

He wanted to step in; to say something and de-escalate this and make sure he didn’t ruin Beomgyu’s happiness again. But he couldn’t get his mouth to open—he felt ashamed and embarrassed and stupid. 

If he wasn’t so worried about Beomgyu, he’d run away immediately—but he didn’t want to leave him alone with this guy, even if it was obvious the younger could hold his own. 

His scowl was deadly, hands thrown in the air; clearly on his last bit of patience. It was rare that Beomgyu got genuinely mad like this. “Obviously I don’t know why,” he spat out, “or else I wouldn’t be asking.”

Jiwoon’s eyes flicked to Yeonjun again, and he felt like he was going to be sick. 

“I just think,” the man snarled, voice low and irate, “it’s a little weird that your bandmate is waiting up for you and asking you to watch movies together and shit when he obviously has a hard on for you.”

Yeonjun wished he could turn to dust and float away in the wind.

This is my fault.

He’s not mine.

He never was.

He couldn’t bring himself to pick his gaze up off the floor. He should check on Beomgyu, or he should deny it. He should try and fix things and then leave them alone.

Words wouldn’t come out. 

And Beomgyu had more courage than him. 

“You should leave,” he spoke into the silence, making Yeonjun pick his head up, whipping his gaze towards the younger. 

The words were simple and emotionless, like he was announcing the weather; his face was stony, eyes hard and blank. There wasn’t an ounce of that warmth Yeonjun was so used to, when it came to Beomgyu. Rich, chocolate eyes were replaced by dark, emotionless ones.

He hated it—seeing Beomgyu look so empty. 

That guilt seeped into his entirety, filling every crack and crevice of his body. His brain screamed at him. Fix it, fix it, fix it.

He spoke before he could think. “No—Gyu-ah, I’m-” 

Jiwoon spoke at the same time as him; he was unable to hear what the other was saying, but he knew he was pissed.

The most composed of all of them—Beomgyu—raised a hand towards each of them, effectively cutting them both off again. He only stared at Jiwoon, though. “I want you to leave.”

The finality in his voice made a switch flip in Yeonjun. He still felt guilty, of course, but anger overtook it. He didn’t like that Beomgyu had to repeat himself—that Jiwoon wouldn’t leave him alone.

It was clear, then—Yeonjun hated him. 

He didn’t want to play nice anymore; he didn’t want to fake anything. Even if the younger hated him for meddling, he didn’t want this man anywhere near him. Beomgyu’s happiness and safety was most important—and he didn’t trust Jiwoon to make him happy and keep him safe. He had to do something.

The man in question opened and closed his mouth a few times, like he wanted to argue again. Feet moving on their own, Yeonjun stepped towards Beomgyu, hovering just behind his shoulder. He knew this was Bemogyu’s battle to fight—and he was doing a damn good job standing up for himself—but he wanted to be right there, just in case.

At his movement, Jiwoon scoffed for the millionth time, eyes darting between the two of them. The look he gave Beomgyu was pure ice. “You’re going to take his side, just like that?” He growled, still not moving. 

“I live here!” Beomgyu shouted, his voice defeated and drained and worn. Yeonjun could kill the stranger in their apartment for making him that way. “And you’re being rude—so I want you to leave.”

An obnoxious, pompous noise came out of Jiwoon’s mouth and his eyes subtly rolled before relaxing his face—it was obvious how fake his composure was. To Yeonjun’s horror, he reached out, grabbing Beomgyu’s wrist—the younger tugged it violently as he stepped away, his back hitting Yeonjun’s front. Unable to take a hint, Jiwoon reached out again. “Why don’t we just go back to my place?” He mewled, voice low and grimy and manipulative, trying to convince Beomgyu.

Yeonjun fucking despised him.

And when Beomgyu spoke again, it was a tone he had never heard from him—disgusted and incredulous and appalled. “What—so you can fuck me and then fall asleep and leave me to get home by myself at three in the morning?” He screamed, beyond enraged. “Is that all you care about? Getting your dick wet?”

If what Beomgyu was implying about Jiwoon wasn’t so awful that it made him feel nauseous, Yeonjun would’ve cheered for the younger. He felt ill, thinking about Jiwoon not caring for Beomgyu’s safety—for only using him for his own pleasure then not caring if he got home safe or not. 

On top of that, his response was pathetic. “What—no, I…” Jiwoon stammered, eyes wide and shifty and caught. Yeonjun figured his stare was venomous, by the way Jiwoon could only glance at him before looking to the floor—he knew he was most definitely not controlling his emotions anymore.

Arms crossed over his chest, Beomgyu looked over the man in front of him, waiting to see if he could cough up any sort of excuse. Despite his anger, Yeonjun thought he was the strongest person ever. 

“You should go,” Beomgyu said after a minute, firm and final.

Jiwoon’s mouth opened again, but his attempt at another argument was Yeonjun’s last straw. “Dude, he asked you to leave,” the older seethed, trying to keep his cool. 

The man’s gaze snapped to him, anger flashing over his eyes again now that Yeonjun spoke up. “Stay out of this,” he spat, looking at him like he was scum. “I don’t know what the hell you think you have going on with Beomgyu, but he’s not yours. Stop sticking your head in places you don’t belong.”

Mouth opening to talk back, Yeonjun was cut off by a yell from Beomgyu. “I’m not anyone’s!” He raged, looking between them. “Jiwoon—stop with the fucking dick measuring contest. Nothing is happening between me and Yeonjun, and you clearly only care about fucking me—so I’m not sure why it matters that much to you.”

Something cracked in Yeonjun’s chest at his words, but he had to try to ignore it—for Beomgyu’s sake. And Jiwoon’s grating voice started arguing again, until a voice cut through the noise—relief and horror alike flooded through Yeonjun.

Soobin’s tone was hard and cold. “What the fuck is going on here?”

A shaky breath left Yeonjun, feeling relieved that the leader was here to help. On the other hand, he was also alarmed that he now had another one of his members there to try and protect from Jiwoon and his horrendous attitude. Not that Soobin—or Beomgyu, for that matter—couldn’t hold their own. But he was their Hyung—he was supposed to keep them all safe. 

He was supposed to take the brunt of the hard stuff so they didn’t have to get hit by it. He was supposed to take care of them, and be there for them, and protect them from the harsh evil of the world. He hated that he couldn’t make it all stop, immediately. He hated that this was even happening—especially because it felt like it was his fault.

And Jiwoon wouldn’t rest. “None of your business,” he spat at Soobin, his attitude vile. The look in his eyes was rotten, eyes zeroing back in on his date. “Christ, Beomgyu—if I knew you had so many men wrapped around your finger I’d have never reached out,” he spat. “Do you throw yourself at all of them?” He snarled, gesturing wildly around the room before landing his eyes on Yeonjun—despite still speaking at Beomgyu. “Did you sleep with all of them, or just lips over here?” 

Yeonjun saw red.

He didn’t even realize he stepped towards Jiwoon until Soobin’s voice froze him in his spot. “Yeonjun, don’t you dare,” he murmured, calm and even, but dead serious. It was his leader voice—the one he knew to never argue with; he respected him too much to do that.

Through the angry rushing of blood in his ears, he faintly heard two more doors open; Kai and Taehyun were up as well. He could barely acknowledge them—his fists were clenched tightly at his sides, the only thing keeping them there and not connecting with Jiwoon’s face were Soobin’s words and the fear of upsetting Beomgyu. 

His teeth were gritted as he spoke. “Beomgyu asked you to leave,” he growled, feeling Soobin’s eyes on the back of his head—he knew he was being watched closely.

Only holding his gaze for a second, Jiwoon looked back to Beomgyu, somehow still disbelieving that the younger didn’t want him there. And thankfully—because if Yeonjun spoke again it was not going to be contained—Soobin stepped in again. “If he asked you to go, then please leave,” he said evenly; nearly that same voice he used on Yeonjun, but instead of concern at the edges of it, it was disgust.

In his peripheral vision, Yeonjun saw Beomgyu’s head pick up, meeting Jiwoon’s incredulous look. When his head dropped down again, he looked defeated—Yeonjun’s heart clenched with worry and guilt and fear.

The silence was filled with yet another scoff from Jiwoon—Yeonjun wasn’t sure he knew how to make any other noises. He glared between Beomgyu, Soobin and Yeonjun one last time before turning on his heel, stalking out the room. The door slamming made Beomgyu jump, and if Yeonjun’s legs didn’t feel like lead, he’d have followed him and slammed his fist into Jiwoon’s face.

And then he noticed Beomgyu was shaking. 

The anger that was filling him to the brim was instantly replaced by dread at the sight.

Fix it fix it fix it.

“Gyu?” He murmured, trying to keep his voice as gentle as possible—the younger still flinched. Guilt seeped through all of Yeonjun’s pores. Fix it. “Are you okay?” He asked, reaching out and placing a hand over one of Beomgyu’s shaking ones, squeezed tight into a fist at his stomach. Tears fell over the younger’s lash line, but he didn’t move—like he didn’t even realize it. “Gyu-ah, you’re shaking.” 

His voice was unexpectedly rough when it came out. “I’m fine,” Beomgyu hissed, making Yeonjun jump and pull his hand back. The apology came immediately, but the older still felt horrible. Sucking in a deep breath, Beomgyu turned slowly towards him, meeting his eyes for only a second before looking back at the ground. They were glassy with tears, and looked lost and anxious. “I didn’t mean to snap at you… I’m just…”

Yeonjun’s heart ached. 

He looked so exhausted—agitated and weary and hurt. Yeonjun fucking hated it. 

Before he could process it, Soobin moved in front of him, placing a hand on Beomgyu’s back. His voice was so quiet he barely heard it. “Do you wanna go to bed?” He asked, causing the younger to nod immediately. 

This is your fault, his mind screamed. Fix it. 

Panic surged through him as Soobin guided Beomgyu towards his room. “Gyu-ah,” he breathed out, voice cracking with emotion.

The leader cut him off. “I’ve got him, Hyung,” he said, looking over Yeonjun’s face with concern, but still pleading—to let it go. The worry on his face made him realize that he too had tears on his lash line; which was probably the cause of Soobin’s concern. But still, the leader wasn’t budging. “Not now.” 

Despite the apologetic and knowing look, it was like a punch to his gut.

The sound of the door clicking shut behind the two of them was what finally broke him. 

Hot tears streamed down his cheeks, and within moments, there was a light touch on his back. “Hyung,” Kai’s voice was quiet and sweet, his hand rubbing over his spine comfortingly. “It’s not your fault.”

A sob wracked through his body—Kai knew exactly what he was thinking, and it cut him to his core.

And Taehyun—Taehyun, who’d been by Yeonjun’s side through nearly his entire memory—knew him so well, too. “Soobin hyung will take care of him—he’s safe with him and he’ll make sure he’s okay,” he reassured, running a hand through his hair.

The two youngest—the two he was supposed to take care of; to raise and keep safe and guide through life—were taking care of him. If he didn’t love them so fucking much, it would hurt him. He’d feel useless and incapable and inadequate. 

But Kai’s palm was warm and soothing on his back and Taehyun’s arm was strong and grounding hooked around his, and he let the two of them guide him to Kai’s room, like Soobin had for Beomgyu.

Safe in the warmth of the youngest’s room, they curled around him, murmuring soft reassurances and scratching at his scalp. They let him cry, and they held him tightly, taking care of him like he had done for them a thousand times. 

His voice was rough and pathetic every time he tried to speak. “I shouldn’t have been there,” he gulped out, when his tears were finally drying. “Everything started because I was waiting up for him—it’s my fault.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Taehyun answered firmly, Kai nodding along. “It’s good you were there—that guy is a dickhead, and I don’t want him anywhere near Beomgyu.”

Kai’s voice was mellow. “Tyun-ah,” he warned delicately, hearing the edge creeping into the other’s voice as he continued to speak. At his words, Taehyun’s shoulders softened, the tense line of them releasing—a murmured apology was met with Kai’s gentle reassurance. 

Yeonjun wasn’t sure how the youngest grew into two of the most special people in the world—being half raised by him. Kai; sweet and soft and reassuring, protective in the way that he healed, making sure any inevitable hurt was tended to. Taehyun was determined and attentive and generous, protective in the way that anyone would have to get through him, if they hurt one of the members.

He had no clue when they grew up so much—when they started taking care of him so well.

“Taehyun-ah is right,” Kai murmured, hand carding through Yeonjun’s hair. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Yeonjun shook his head. “You guys weren’t there—he had it out for me from the start,” he croaked, throat still tight with tears. “I tried to be nice and polite and welcoming—for Beomgyu—but the way he looked at me from the second we met eyes…” He trailed off, letting out a shaky breath. “Like I was an intruder in my own living room—an intruder in Beomgyu’s life,” he gulped, voice cracking. “And then… I had a little bit of an attitude with him—because I couldn’t help it… I hated the way he looked at Beomgyu—like he was nothing but a piece of meat, or something.”

“He’s a dickhead,” Kai butted in, repeating what Taehyun said before, but with a much sweeter tone. It sounded almost comical, coming out of his mouth like that. “That has nothing to do with you. A guy like that… he would’ve ended up being awful to Beomgyu at some point—he probably has, just not this bad. At least you were there to help, this time.”

Fresh tears ran down Yeonjun’s face. “I feel like I did the opposite of helping,” he agonized, dropping tears onto Kai’s shirt. “I just got so pissed off and I was trying to let Beomgyu handle it because I knew he would want to do it himself, but he just kept taking things too far.”

Taehyun ran a hand over his back, solid and strong.“And I’m sure Beomgyu hyung appreciates you doing that,” he reassured, voice placating.“You handled it well.”

The tears wouldn’t stop, though. “He flinched away from me,” Yeonjun nearly wailed. “Soobin doesn’t trust me with him—they don’t want me near them.” He was spiraling, he knew that somewhere deep down. Too many things happened at once and he felt like he was crying for a thousand different reasons simultaneously.

“Hyung,” Kai lamented, squeezing him closer. “Beomgyu hyung was worked up because of Jiwoon—not you,” he reassured as Yeonjun sniffled. “And I know you know why Soobin took over instead of you,” he trailed off, voice a little unsure for the first time. 

Taehyun stepped in though. “It’s not because he doesn’t trust you,” he said gently, “it’s just because your… history could complicate things, in this situation.”

It hurt to hear, but Yeonjun knew it was the truth. 

Their history seemed to complicate a lot of things. 

But he thought about Beomgyu—of toothy grins and shining eyes and hushed whispers of reassurance. Of teasing jabs and thoughtful just because gifts and guitar chords being strummed into the quiet of the night. 

And he knew he’d always take complicated; if that meant having Beomgyu close to him.

He’d do his best to fix the complications, to make things easier for Beomgyu. He didn’t want to be part of any hurt he experienced, ever again. 

To start—he knew he had to tell him the truth.

He just hoped he could find the words.

Late Summer 2021

Yeonjun was content. 

He was on the couch with Beomgyu, a hand in long, dark hair, scratching over the his scalp and playing with the strands. His other hand held his phone, half scrolling through Twitter and half listening to the conversation around him. Soobin was complaining about how his latest hookup was a horrible kisser, and Yeonjun was trying to not think about how the last person he kissed was also not a great kisser; and the boy next to him was leagues better. 

And how he kissed said person in the hopes that he would move past the boy next to him.

But instead, he spent the kiss thinking about long, dark hair with little white extensions, and soft, plush lips that always kissed with such a fever that it made Yeonjun dizzy. Lips that he definitely was not kissing at the time, and probably would never have the pleasure of kissing again. 

He was trying to pull himself out of his thoughts and be somewhat engaged in the conversation, but he was lost in the memory of the little desperate noises Beomgyu used to make as he wanted to push the kissing further, when he was suddenly knocked straight out of his thoughts with Soobin’s yelling. 

“Beomgyu—tell them I’m a good kisser!” The leader hollered, pointing at the man in question.

Yeonjun froze before he could help it.

What—

The gasp Kai let out was Oscar-worthy, bursting into laughter. “What?” He yelled, jaw dropped. “You guys have kissed?”

—the fuck?

Arm stiff, Yeonjun’s hand dropped away from Beomgyu’s scalp to the back of the couch. Something swirled in his stomach that he knew could only be named jealousy.

Thick, deep, and burning envy.

Soobin’s grin was evil as he leaned towards Kai. “Yeah, and Beomgyu begged me to kiss him.” 

The laughter that the two of them broke into told him he should relax the jealousy, a little—that there was more to the story. Soobin wouldn’t laugh if he knew the story would cause a serious issue—he loved to tease, but if it was something that would genuinely upset Yeonjun, he wouldn’t be laughing. That would be cruel, and Choi Soobin had never been cruel a day in life. 

And truthfully, he knew he really didn’t have the right to be jealous—not that that really helped ease the feeling much, but at least he could acknowledge that. 

He relaxed—a little.

Glancing towards the boy next to him, Yeonjun noticed bright red ears peeking out from under his hair, contrasted against the white streaks. Cute. “I did not beg you,” Beomgyu insisted, kicking Soobin in the ribs.

The leader was unperturbed with the violence, pointing a drunk hand at the younger and nearly spilling his drink in the process. “You did!” He shouted, just barely missing Taehyun’s arm as he flailed, who had reached up to move his drink with practiced ease. “You said, Hyung, I’ve never kissed a boy, please show me what it’s like,” he whined, pitching his voice higher, as if Beomgyu’s voice wasn’t deeper than his own. 

That flare of jealousy sparked up in Yeonjun’s stomach, but the deep pout on Beomgyu’s face and his red little ears soothed it. He was too adorable for him to be too mad.

And then a thought crossed his mind. “Wait a minute,” he leaned forward, trying to get a better look at the younger’s face. “I thought I was your first kiss with a guy.” 

He wasn’t quite sure if he should be pleased, or offended; there were a few possibilities there.

Either Beomgyu lied to him, and kissed Soobin first—which would mean his kiss with Soobin wasn’t good enough, so he came to Yeonjun instead. This option made him want to smirk.

Or, he kissed Yeonjun first, and for some reason, also felt the need to kiss another guy after the fact, and lie about it. And Yeonjun was confident enough to know that he was not a bad kisser, and unless Beomgyu was an unbelievably good actor, he knew he very much enjoyed kissing Yeonjun. So, he must’ve lied to Soobin for another reason. That option—he wasn’t quite sure what it meant.

Breaking his view of his pretty side profile, Beomgyu looked up to him, eyes big and sheepish. Yeonjun fought a smile, and nearly broke into one when he saw the younger’s eyes flick downwards on his face—he looked like he was trying to think of something to say, but couldn’t come to a conclusion; distracted. 

Dramatically, Yeonjun sighed, crossing his arms over his chest and letting himself fall back onto the couch, wanting to pull a reaction from the younger. “And here I was,” he glowered, letting his voice be emotional and whiny, “thinking I was special.”

Kai and Soobin instantly started cackling again, as Beomgyu’s mouth opened and closed around air. 

The leader clapped his hands together. “This little liar,” he giggled, then whipped his head towards Taehyun, who had been suspiciously quiet. “Hyunnie, did he kiss you too?”

The way big eyes got bigger and ears went red made that jealousy twist inside Yeonjun’s stomach again. 

Had Taehyun kissed him too? Was I really just one of a few? 

He felt his lips drop into a pout at the thought.

Loud cackles were cut off for a second while Soobin nearly ate a pillow, thanks to Beomgyu chucking it at his face. “Leave Taehyun out of this—I have not kissed him.” 

Unable to help it, Yeonjun let out a half laugh, half scoff. Maybe Beomgyu hadn’t kissed Taehyun, but he had kissed Soobin. That little green jealousy monster was hard to push away. 

He had just felt kind of special, being the first guy to kiss Beomgyu. He felt some sort of weird achievement, being the one he trusted enough to come to, asking to share the moment with. His arms crossed over his chest at the thought that he had been riding that high for awhile, every time he thought about it—and it may not have been true.

He felt eyes on him—probably from the noise he made. “Hyung,” Beomgyu called, making him glance over instantly. Whipped, he scolded himself. The younger’s lips were pointed in that way that told him he was trying to not smile. “Are you jealous?” He asked, incredulous. 

But his sweet pink cheeks weren’t enough to erase the image of Soobin kissing him from Yeonjun’s mind. “I thought I was the first one,” he complained, hearing how whiny his voice sounded, and feeling his ears heat up from the tone.

A large, warm palm dropped to his knee—it was a little bit pathetic how quickly it soothed some of his disappointment. “You were, Hyung, I promise,” Beomgyu reassured him, hand patting on his leg. His annoyance lessened even more at the sweet tone the younger used. 

Soobin however—was not having it. “So you lied to me?” He yelled, the stupid fake-mad look on his face making Yeonjun want to laugh; despite his jealousy, his friends were ridiculous, he couldn’t deny. That, and Beomgyu’s palm was still on his thigh; he was afraid if he moved at all—even just to chuckle—the younger would notice, and move it away. 

Giggling, Taehyun finally butted in.  “Wait… so you lied and begged to kiss Soobin?” He asked, shocked. Despite his giggles, there was a little something in his eyes that told Yeonjun he didn’t think it was entirely funny. Subtle, but something. It felt similar to the same thing that was sprinkled into his own voice—it reminded him of himself. “Did you really want to kiss him that badly?”

Sighing, Beomgyu removed his hand from Yeonjun’s leg to rub both of his over his face.

Yeonjun tried to not miss his touch. 

“I didn’t particularly want to kiss Soobin, of all people,” he explained, sounding a little bit like he had a gun to his head, being forced to admit the truth. It took everything in Yeonjun to not flick at his bright red ears, to tease him further. “I just wanted to kiss another guy that wasn’t Yeonjun.” 

And that—that made him pause. Beomgyu continued talking, saying something else about Taehyun and Kai, but his mind was reeling. 

He wanted to kiss someone that wasn’t me? He thought. Why was I not good enough? When even was this kiss? It had to be a while ago, right? He must’ve kissed Jiwoon—gross—so it had to have been before that. Was it after our break up…. Fight? Whatever. Or before? Was it during when—when we were… almost a we?

Pulling him out of his thoughts, Beomgyu was still talking. “I kissed Yeonjun and it kind of… made me crash out,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “I was confused because I was like—is kissing all guys that good?” 

Warmth started flooding Yeonjun’s chest, warm honey filling his lungs as he slowly processed what the younger was saying. 

“Turns out—kissing Soobin did not live up to my first kiss with a guy,” Beomgyu laughed, nervous and sweet and gentle. He turned and looked at Yeonjun, who couldn’t help but stare back, jaw dropped and eyes big. Their eyes met and Beomgyu’s glittered as he laughed again, a more genuine giggle this time. “Don’t be surprised,” he moaned, shoving at Yeonjun’s arm as the blush from his ears covered his neck. “You know I liked you then.”

Yeonjun’s mind cycled through about thirteen hundred different emotions.

Liked and then fought with is kissing all guys that good and kissing Soobin did not live up to my first time with a guy.

But with Beomgyu’s embarrassed smile and blushing neck and the way he couldn’t keep eye contact with him for more than a second—he couldn’t help but take it all as a win. 

He tried to respond, but words wouldn’t come out—he was too shocked, and too pleased.

Kai—thankfully—broke the silence with a laugh. “So… does this still bring us to the conclusion that Soobin hyung sucks at kissing?” 

“I do not!”

Yeonjun’s mind raced, Kai’s teasing putting a thought into his head—a thought he was pretty sure he knew the answer to, after their history. But a sick part of him—that giddy, pleased thing that flooded through his veins—wanted it confirmed. He wanted to hear Beomgyu say it.

He shouldn’t.

He should keep his mouth shut, and swallow his pride and—and his mouth moved before he could stop it. “No wait,” he called, voice ringing out over the giggles and noises of wrestling Soobin and Kai were making, after the leader had smacked Kai with a pillow. “I wanna know who the better kisser is.”

Big, round eyes met his as the boy who the question was aimed to looked his way. He didn’t stop the evil smile from spreading across his face, seeing how Beomgyu’s eyes went from his eyes, to his lips, and back. 

That’s something, Yeonjun thought, tilting his head a little at the younger.

Even Beomgyu’s chest was red, now. He could see it from where his big t-shirt fell away from his collarbone, dainty and smooth and flushed. “Come on—I mean… Hyung, you,” Beomgyu stammered, heaving out a sigh. 

If he looked upset, Yeonjun would call it off, then and there. He would say he’s joking and change the subject and make sure the younger settled back in next to him, comfortable and happy. 

He looked embarrassed, sure; his blush was deep and sweet and endearing, but his eyes still sparkled when they caught Yeonjun’s gaze, and his lips quirked a little before his face dropped into a fake glare that made the older grin harder. He knew his teasing was safe—Beomgyu wasn’t upset.

Sticking his tongue in his cheek—an action that was far too attractive—the younger sighed, annoyed. “It was barely a peck with Soobin, so-”

Of course, Soobin’s big mouth just had to be included. “He literally stuck his tongue in my mouth and-”

“So it can’t really be compared,” Beomgyu continued, ignoring the interruption. 

Again, Yeonjun would’ve stopped, if the younger wanted him to. But Beomgyu held his gaze, steady and stubborn as he got an eyebrow raised in response to his excuse.

Yeonjun was pretty sure this was the longest they’d held eye contact since everything happened. It was the type of teasing and pushing each other’s buttons they got up to before—the kind that often felt like there was something else underlying it. Something that Yeonjun knew now—but hadn’t fully realized before—to be flirting.

“He grabbed my face and climbed on top of me and-”

Still not breaking their gaze, Beomgyu reached behind him and flung another pillow in the direction of Soobin at his interjection. “Do you wanna die, Soobin hyung?” He yelled, as the three on the floor broke into laughter. 

Tilting his head further, Yeonjun gave him mercy, breaking eye contact to look over his face. “I dunno Gyu-ah,” he breathed out, pretending to be disbelieving, but secretly thrilled Soobin only got to peck the younger. He settled in on the couch, reaching his arm up to rest on the back—brushing over Beomgyu’s shoulder—once again. “It seems like Soobin thinks it was a lot more than that… so what’s the truth?”

The younger’s glare got deeper. “Hyung,” he breathed out, exasperated that Yeonjun wasn’t letting it go.

It took everything in him to not smile at his cute little pout. 

He shrugged, and Beomgyu’s tongue went into his cheek again, letting out a sigh. He was so unfairly attractive Yeonjun thought briefly that it was only fair he embarrassed him, a little. Someone that pretty had to be humbled, here and there. 

That, and part of him knew Beomgyu enjoyed their back and forth as much as he did—at least, he used to. 

And his blush and glinting eyes said he still did.

Those eyes met Yeonjun’s again, still glaring. “You’re a better kisser, Yeonjjunie. Okay?” He answered, defeated. He was blushing and exasperated and rolling his eyes, but he kept eye contact with the older as he said it, and he only heard truth in his tone.

Yeonjun felt like he won the lottery—for a second.

And then Beomgyu’s expression changed, mischief crossing over his eyes. “Are you happy?” He asked, tilting his head, not unlike Yeonjun just had, seconds before. “Or does your jealous ass want to kiss me again to prove your point?”

You have no idea.

He flushed all the way down to his toes—he deserved that; he knew he did.

The younger members wailed—laughing louder than they had all night. Beomgyu joined in and Yeonjun could do nothing but blush furiously and try to defend himself, but all that came out was stammered words of yes, I mean—no, I mean.

He met Beomgyu’s eyes and they sparkled, holding his gaze. For the first time in a long time—Yeonjun felt nothing but warmth, looking into his eyes. A blanket of peace washed over him.

Easily, Beomgyu took the attention away from him, teasing the others. Yeonjun half listened, giggling along with them, but he was distracted—that warmth in his chest thundered through his veins; he wanted it closer. He wanted the cause of that warmth closer.

Reaching up, he tugged on Beomgyu’s shoulder, pulling him back against the couch next to him. Warmth pressed against the entire side of his body, and Yeonjun was content. “Can someone put him to bed,” he gestured towards Soobin, who was getting too drunk and being obnoxious. “He’s had enough.” His hand found Beomgyu’s hair again, resuming his motions from before—both because he wanted an excuse to touch the younger, and because he knew he liked his hair played with. 

And because he wanted it to be very clear that Beomgyu was not going to be the one to get up and help Soobin—he didn’t want him to move an inch.

At Yeonjun’s head scratching, the younger sighed quietly, melting further into the couch and his side. His shoulder was nearly leaning on his chest, and Yeonjun felt like his skin was burning where they were pressed together.

Beomgyu watched the younger two get Soobin off the floor, dragging him down the hall. Yeonjun watched Beomgyu, eyes fixed on his profile. His dark, thick eyebrows, his button nose. Plump, pink lips and big, amused eyes. 

He was so beautiful.

Yeonjun fucking adored him.

When they heard two doors close, Beomgyu let out a loud sigh, dropping his head onto the older’s shoulder heavily. 

“Ouch,” Yeonjun complained, because he knew he should. It wouldn’t be appropriate to let out an elated yell in response to Beomgyu’s head resting on his shoulder. He was forcing his gaze to stay on the TV, even though the movie had been muted long ago. 

His fake hurt was ignored, anyways. “You’re such a jerk,” Beomgyu said through a yawn, poking Yeonjun in the stomach. It made him let out an embarrassing little squeal, but he couldn’t help but breathe out a laugh as he tugged on the younger’s hair in revenge. 

Now that the others were gone, and the laughter had died down, a sense of embarrassment washed over him. He really had been so desperate to know if Beomgyu thought he was a good kisser—the best kisser—that he caused a whole scene about it. He nearly laughed at himself, thinking about it.

He was doomed. 

In his periphery, he saw Beomgyu’s head tilt towards him, leaning back on his chest more. Apparently not a good enough angle, he pulled back, assessing the sheepish man next to him. Yeonjun glanced over at him, and was met with a glare. 

His stomach dropped suddenly—was Beomgyu actually upset? Had he gone too far?

Looking over his face, Yeonjun spoke quickly. “I didn’t make you uncomfortable, did I?” He asked, worry lacing his voice.  “I was just messing around,” he started, cutting himself off when Beomgyu shook his head rapidly.

A smile replaced the younger’s glare—warm and genuine—and relief flooded over Yeonjun. “You’re annoying, and of course I was embarrassed, but I’m fine,” he reassured, the warmth in his eyes unable to be missed, now. He too was just messing around. Shrugging, he grinned. “Soobin needed to be humbled anyways.”

Yeonjun giggled, and suddenly, Beomgyu pulled back—the older hadn’t even realized how close their faces were. 

Did I get too close, or did he? He wondered, too distracted by his worries and by chocolate brown eyes to have noticed how much they were in each other’s space. Looking over Beomgyu’s face, he concluded that he didn’t look uncomfortable with the closeness—just a little shy, or embarrassed; it was a relief. 

Pulling back as well—trying to be casual about it—he looked down the hall towards their bedrooms. “Do you think we should check on him?”

Beomgyu scowled. “Do I look like his mother? He’s fine.”

Yeonjun hummed, bringing his hand back up to the younger’s hair. “I mean we do take care of him a lot,” he reasoned, scratching over his scalp. “And you’d definitely be the mother.”

It was bait—Beomgyu’s warm smile and pink cheeks and body pressed to his was making him brave. 

And he took it—hook, line and sinker. “So you’re the Dad, then?” Beomgyu asked, head tilted and biting down on his cheek to try and hold back a grin; he failed.

Yeonjun shrugged casually, but he had to bite down on both his lips to stop grinning, big and pleased. I couldn’t be more done for, he thought, knowing his eyes were shining on the younger. I am so goddamn stupid for him.

“What’s Taehyun then—in there taking care of him?” Beomgyu asked, a mischievous little grin crossing his face as he gestured towards where Soobin and Taehyun had disappeared behind a closed door. 

Yeonjun hummed, thinking. The younger’s eyes sparkled and his nose scrunched in question; head tilted, wondering.

Words came out of the older’s mouth that he wasn’t sure were meant to be said out loud. “The loving boyfriend,” he answered, not knowing if they were having the same conversation, anymore; not really sure who he was talking about, anymore.

Something unavoidable was twisting inside of him.

Something that was hoping and wishing and wanting. 

He couldn’t look away from the boy next to him.

Snorting, Beomgyu turned and met his eyes—his gaze made Yeonjun feel like he had been hit by a truck; he was dazed, lost in a jumble of thoughts that include Beomgyu, boyfriend, pretty, loving, chocolate, boyfriend, pink, Beomgyu.

Belatedly, he realized those pretty pink lips were moving, and he was the only other person in the room. “Huh?” Yeonjun blinked—hard, then rapidly—trying to clear the haze in his mind. 

Beomgyu’s smile turned soft, and then a little pout made its way onto his lips. “Time for bed, Hyung?” He teased, using a baby voice on Yeonjun as he patted over his head, resting on the side of his face. “You seem tired.”

Warmth rushed over him again, so intensely he wouldn’t have been surprised if the younger could feel it under his palm. He flicked his fingers over Yeonjun’s earrings before standing up, holding out his hand.

Yeonjun still didn’t know what he had even said, before—he was tired, but mostly he was distracted by pretty eyes and pink lips and a deep, gentle voice; one he hadn’t heard as much as he had wanted to, in a long time.

He looked between Beomgyu’s hand and his face, not wanting to move. “I don’t wanna go to bed yet,” he whined, hearing how pathetic his own voice sounded, but was too happy to care too much. “I wanna hang out with you.” 

Pulling on his offered hand, Yeonjun dragged him back down on the couch, the younger easily following. 

Settling in, Beomgyu half faced the older, pulling his leg into him and pressing it against Yeonjun’s thigh, sideways on the couch. When their eyes met, his cheek was squished against his palm, a gentle look in his eyes, just watching him. 

“I’ve missed you,” Yeonjun admitted, before he could regret it. Beomgyu’s eyes went impossibly softer, head sagging into his palm more, elbow on the back of the couch. “I’ve missed this… just being together. Me and you.”

And he didn’t need to regret it—or worry.

The grin that spread over Beomgyu’s face soothed Yeonjun all the way down to his soul.

“I’ve missed it too, Yeonjjunie.”

So they talked. 

For the first time in forever, they chatted—about work and about their families and about life. Their voices were quiet and gentle; they teased and they explained and they reassured. 

Yeonjun wanted to sit there forever, with him—but his body was fighting against him.

Beomgyu nearly dragged his exhausted form to his room, gently pushing him down into his bed and rubbing a soft hand over his hair as he settled into the sheets.

Stay, Yeonjun wanted to say, tired eyes blinking up at the younger. I miss your warmth, I miss your touch, I miss you. So, so much.

He was nearly out the door when Yeonjun got his words out. “Night, Gyu-ah.” 

At his tired voice, Beomgyu turned, and if Yeonjun wasn’t so exhausted, he might be able to understand the look that crossed over his face when they met eyes—but his own eyes were barely open. “Goodnight Jjunie,” the younger replied softly, flicking off the light.

Love you, Gyu-ah, he thought—or maybe said; he wasn’t sure.. 

When he tried to remember in the morning, he didn’t know if his courage to say it was in his head, or a dream, or if he had said it out loud. He was nearly asleep the second his head hit the pillow, and he couldn’t decipher what happened in real life, and what was part of the dream he had that had involved rich, chocolate eyes, soft, honey skin, and pink, plump lips. 

He was so—incredibly and absolutely and wildly—fucked.