Chapter Text
There’s a hole in Beomgyu’s mattress. Soobin sticks his finger in it and touches the frayed cotton. His finger comes out clean. “What happened here?” he asks.
“I failed my physics exam,” Beomgyu says. He’s crouched on the carpet of his dorm’s tiny bedroom, stuffing clothes in a duffel bag. The room smells like laundry and carpet cleaner because when Beomgyu is not gaming or studying, he’s cleaning his stress away.
Soobin bends forward on the bed, stunned. He means to express his surprise but instead Beomgyu raises his head at the same time and their faces meet.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Up close, Beomgyu doesn’t look sad. His eyes glitter. They’re kind of huge, if Soobin were to rate them by size. Round and promising. He always looks like this when he’s about to head home to Daegu. He carries an air of eternal acceptance, like seeing his parents will somehow make everything better. Soobin could never understand that.
“Well, not failed!” Beomgyu zips up the duffle bag. The black one is his, the beige one is Soobin’s. Soobin hasn’t started packing yet but he brought all his stuff over to Beomgyu’s so it would be easier to leave together in the morning. Taehyun will probably be here in a few minutes with his traveling backpack. Taehyun’s been back with Beomgyu once before, but tomorrow will be Soobin’s first time visiting Daegu.
“I almost failed, but as usual I pulled off another near miss,” Beomgyu explains in a proud cartoon voice. “With my average, it’s enough if I decide to do a Master’s.” He sits up on his knees and puffs his chest out.
“You look like Crayon Shin Chan,” Soobin says.
Beomgyu walks on his knees to his standing mirror and raises his eyebrows. “How?”
“Not anymore,” Soobin complains, “it was how you were puffing out your cheeks.”
Beomgyu puffs out his cheeks again, not at all in the way he was doing it before, but he can’t hold it. He collapses in laughter, falling to his hands. Here, the afternoon sun hits the top of his brown hair and turns it into spun gold.
“You should get packing instead of staring at me,” Beomgyu says.
“I’m not staring at you.” Soobin sits up. “Besides, I’m done packing, remember?”
“No,” Beomgyu suddenly shouts in an annoying kid voice, “pack my stuff for me! I almost failed an exam! Don’t you understand how tired I am! Where’s your conscience!”
Soobin has developed two types of laughs because of Beomgyu. One of them happens internally, where Beomgyu can’t see it. The other is one Soobin lets out when he’s feeling particularly generous, the joke is really funny, or he wants to validate Beomgyu’s feelings.
When Beomgyu shouts like this, Soobin laughs internally. On the outside, he blinks and pulls up the train schedule on his phone.
“I booked the KTX tickets by the way,” he says, “you’re welcome.”
“You’re welcome,” Beomgyu parrots. “Thank you,” he says, more genuinely, a shallow touch against Soobin’s cheek. The jagged edge of Beomgyu’s hangnail scrapes him briefly before Beomgyu pulls away to kneel by his items, separating his socks into pairs instead of the ununiformed ball-shapes they were originally in.
Soobin scrolls through the other KTX schedules, looks up a random route from Seoul to Busan. He checks his email a couple times, refreshing it to see if there’s a response from the publication company he’s hoping to intern at. Nothing. It’s been over a week. His instinct is to catastrophize and assume he’s failed (again) but he swallows it down for now. He can cry all he wants after this trip.
His cheek itches where Beomgyu touched him. His skin has been doing strange things lately. Not flare-ups exactly. Just itchy spots. Burning spots. Achy feelings he can’t quite pin down There’s probably a topical ointment for some of it but Soobin doesn’t know the name for it nor does he enjoy visiting the doctor.
It’s almost three pm when Taehyun arrives in an oversized coat that is so obviously his boyfriend’s that Beomgyu has to spend a few minutes teasing him before he lets him into the bedroom.
“They closed down one of the DX lines,” Taehyun sighs, swinging his legs off the side of Beomgyu’s bed. Kai’s coat drops off his shoulder and he lets it hang there. “What happened to the mattress hyung?”
“I knifed it because I almost failed my exam,” Beomgyu explains.
“Ah, okay.”
Beomgyu unwraps a cream bun from its thin plastic home and places it in Taehyun's hands. “Why’s the DX closed down?”
“Not the whole thing, they just had to bypass a few stops. A signal emergency they said,” Taehyun replies idley. He bites into the cream bun, cupping a hand under his chin to catch stray crumbs. “Is this from the Buk-gu ajumma’s bakery? It looks different.”
There’s a quaint bakery off-campus Beomgyu visits every weekend. It’s in a back alley behind a line of residential houses and only opens a few days a week. The ajumma who owns it used to be friends with his halmeoni before she passed away a few years ago, in Soobin and Beomgyu’s first year of university.
Whenever Beomgyu visits, he brings treats back for Soobin and Taehyun, almost always sweet breads and cakes. Soobin’s favourite is the one he devoured earlier, a chocolate log filled with buttercream and those teeny tiny chocolate chips.
“She’s trying out a new recipe,” Beomgyu says, “she still has the classic ones but she wants to get more opinions. I’m her researcher.”
“Why didn’t you buy one for Soobin hyung?” asks Taehyun.
“I like everything,” Soobin answers.
“As long as it's sweet, hyung won’t have an opinion,” laughs Beomgyu, “he’ll just say it’s good. Or no, he won’t even say anything. He’ll just close his eyes and make this noise.”
Beomgyu gets up on his knees, throws his head back from wear he’s sitting on the floor, and releases a loud, embarrassing moan that has Taehyun cringing so hard he covers his eyes and flails around.
“Shut up,” Soobin says, but it comes out choked and high pitched. Beomgyu looks like something out of Soobin’s favourite porn videos. Not that he keeps favourites, or anything, but there is one that comes to mind. “You’re so stupid. I don’t do that.”
The room feels stuffy with Beomgyu’s loudness. Soobin climbs off the bed to lightly slap the side of Beomgyu’s head. “Shut up,” he says again, grabbing a handful of Beomgyu’s hair.
Beomgyu looks up at him with round eyes, suddenly serious, the smirk dying on his mouth. It gives Soobin a kind of chill.
“Ow, hyung,” says Beomgyu, and his deadpan feels like a challenge.
Something jumps inside of Soobin’s veins. Which is stupid. Beomgyu is too practiced at messing with him.
Taehyun clears his throat. He’s finished with the cream bun and he’s rudely wiggling his toes in their direction to get attention.
“Does hyung mind if I shower here?” Taehyun asks, “I didn’t get a chance, I had work all day.”
Beomgyu pulls his eyes away from Soobin’s and sits back on his butt. “Yeah, sure.”
“You’re so weird,” Soobin says when Taehyun has collected towels and moisturizer and is out of the bedroom.
Beomgyu doesn’t answer. He zips the last of items into his duffel bag and brushes his hands together. “Seokie hyung will be home by the way,” he says, “so either you share a room with Taehyun, or with me.”
“I’ll share with you,” Soobin says. He doesn’t have to think too much about something like that. Taehyun likes his own space anyway.
Beomgyu nods twice. He stands up and lines up all their bags by his bedroom door, and then turns to Soobin with a new face. “All ready.”
⌞ ° • + • ° ⌟
Their train departs at 6:20 am. It’s 6:03, and they’re tucked into their seats, chatting about their exam grades. Soobin despises reliving exams, once he’s done he’s done, so he’s mostly quiet, watching the way Beomgyu’s eyes light up when he realizes his average in his art classes is better than the previous semester even though his science grades suck, and the way Taehyun tries to hold back from bragging about his near perfect GPA.
Taehyun has a cup of warm caramel macchiato in his hands, sitting slouched across from Soobin and Beomgyu. He squeals when the train starts to move.
“He gets excited when we travel,” Beomgyu says quietly. He rests on Soobin’s shoulder, eyes half-lidded and sleepy. His hair smells like that vague unscented shampoo with leaf prints on the bottle.
“We should be there in about two hours.”
“I know,” Soobin says, “I booked the tickets, remember?”
“I’m your guide,” Beomgyu says, shuffling against Soobin’s side to find a comfortable position. Their nylon jackets swish together. “Just pretend you don’t know anything and I’m the expert.”
“Fine, I’m a foreigner,” Soobin agrees, because it’s morning and Beomgyu’s voice is tender and he would play along with anything when the sky looks so pink.
“You’re a Seoulite who’s never travelled outside of the city,” Beomgyu whispers, “you need me.”
For a few seconds, Soobin believes it. He shuts his eyes and leans his head against Beomgyu’s.
When he opens them, blinking his surroundings into view, he finds the sunrise tracking a inky pattern across Beomgyu’s cheekbones and eyelashes, coating Taehyun’s forehead a soft purple as he meets Soobin’s eyes with a peaceful half-smile before turning to look out the window. They’re almost there, the KTX is always quicker during the rush of weekend mornings.
Beomgyu is still asleep. Soobin touches the tip of his nose and he doesn’t think Beomgyu can feel it.
⌞ ° • + • ° ⌟
Anecdotally, Soobin always knew Beomgyu’s family was kind. He met them a few times, once when they drove down to Seoul to help Beomgyu move into his apartment, another time Beomgyu got the flu and his mother brought soups and banchan. But he’s never sat down across from his father and watched him explain how to use a slide ruler. He’s never gamed with Beomgyu’s hyung, barefooted on the couch in the early afternoon with the family’s pet parrot eyeing them with jealousy from his cage. He’s never stood awkwardly in the kitchen while Beomgyu’s mother cooks tosses extra sesame seeds into her sundubu-jjigae. And on the first day in Buk-gu, Soobin does all of these things. He gets a glimpse of Beomgyu’s heart.
“Soobin-ah, can you turn the fan on?” Beomgyu’s mother asks.
When Soobin can’t find the switch right away, Taehyun swoops in and does it for him.
“Thank you Taehyun-ah,” Beomgyu’s mother, “I usually just open the windows but there are so many mayflies today.”
“You’re welcome eommoni, the weather is unusually hot.”
And it’s not that Soobin doesn’t have a family, or that his parents are especially mean, it’s just that Beomgyu’s family carries a special kind of warmth. Soobin feels like he could belong here, and rarely feels like that anywhere, even in the apartment he shares with his roommate. Even in his own bed when he’s alone with his body, he isn’t quite sure he really exists.
“You both have a Seoulite personality,” Beomgyu’s father tells him at lunch.
Soobin mixes the egg yolk into the broth stew and smiles. He doesn’t know what that means.
“He said that to me too,” Taehyun giggles.
“It makes sense for you,” Soobin says, “you’re from Gangnam.”
“Ansan’s just like Gangnam,” Taehyun argues.
“No way, Ansan is much cheaper.”
Everyone around the cedar table laughs and Soobin almost doesn’t register that what he said was funny. To him it was just the truth. He didn’t come from a rich family. Beomgyu and Taehyun aren’t rich by any means, but he can tell from the size of Beomgyu’s home and his father’s display of racing medals that his parents make more money than Soobin’s. Taehyun’s parents both work for a prestigious airline, and though Taehyun never flaunts his parents’ money, Soobin has been to his home enough times to know.
It takes a moment for Soobin to realize that Beomgyu isn’t laughing. Beomgyu smiles, taking a piece of tofu out his father’s plate and popping it in his mouth. “Appa, Soobin hyung is just Soobin hyung,” he says in a baby talk voice he’s been using all afternoon, “he could live in any city. He’s adaptable.”
Soobin doesn’t know what that means either, but coming from Beomgyu it feels like a compliment.
Other questions ensue as a result. What Soobin is studying (business and creative writing), what job he wants to have (office worker, a lie because he doesn’t want to have a job but it seems like the only viable option), and if he has a girlfriend (no, and he says it’s because he’s too focused on school which is another lie; he doesn’t want one).
As he’s being drilled, Beomgyu’s parents start to feel a bit more like his own parents, though he can’t tell if they’re judging him like his own parents do or if they’re reasonably curious about their son’s best friend. He tells them about the internship application and Beomseok asks, “is that the only place you applied?”
“I applied at a few corporations too, but I’m really hoping to get the internship.”
“Are you a writer, or just an editor?”
“Neither,” Soobin admits, and a silence falls over the table. He’s never had a real editing job, and his writing has been rejected from most of Seoul’s prestigious literary journals. He’s been published a few times in Ansan journals and school poetry publications, but he’s not well-known by any means.
Beomgyu’s father is the one that breaks the silence. “That’s admirable,” he says, “not everyone has the courage to study arts.”
“The business degree is insurance in case I fail,” Soobin says, “so I don't think that can be considered courage.”
Beomgyu kicks Soobin’s ankle under the table. “It so is,” he says.
“Do you have any writing you can show us?” asks Beomgyu’s father.
“Soobin hyung doesn't share,” Beomgyu explains, “even with me, he’s stingy.”
“I’m sure he’s just shy,” says Beomgyu’s mother.
Soobin stares at his food and tries not to move a muscle. Maybe if he’s very still, they’ll forget he is there.
“Did you get questioned like that too?” Soobin asks when he and Taehyun are brushing their teeth by the bathroom sink.
Taehyun spits into the sink and turns to Soobin with wide eyes. “I got interrogated. I passed though.”
"I didn't realize there was a test."
"There isn't," Taehyun laughs, "not unless you think there is one."
That's convoluted, but Soobin should have expected it. He finishes brushing his teeth and pads to the living room to stare at Toto. A simple bird. No judgements. No questions asked.
⌞ ° • + • ° ⌟
The entire house smells like lavender. Dried flowers are hung on the main walls around family photos, most of them taken at amusement parks or at the beach.
Soobin is allowed to nap in Beomgyu’s room until dinner, but he can’t fall asleep. Being in Beomgyu’s childhood home feels overwhelming, like a triple dose of his best friend fed to him through his nose. Like he’s surrounded by the essence of him, and even the carpet is an extension of his skin.
Beomgyu’s sheets smell the same as the one in his apartment even though Beomgyu hasn’t slept in them in months. The layout of his room is similar too, and as Soobin lies on his back and surveys the space he realizes that Beomgyu set his apartment bedroom up to replicate this one. The small bookshelf in the left corner is the same grain of wood. The computer desk is black, just like the one in Seoul. Beomgyu leaves the window cracked open the same amount. The curtains are the same shivery white. The view out of the window reveals a few residential buildings, a skyline thick with clouds, the swell of the hill where the family house rests, and a few camphor trees in the distance. The view is the only major difference. Beomgyu’s apartment in Seoul is saturated by other apartments and office buildings.
It pangs Soobin to know that Beomgyu is so homesick, but Soobin doesn’t think there was ever an alternative. Thinking of never having met Beomgyu at their first year orientation feels worse. They were so young then. Beomgyu had a hard time adjusting—he’d skip classes just to listen to his playlists and have cathartic cries. Soobin and Soobin’s roommate Choi Yeonjun were his only friends for a long time. They met Kang Taehyun and Huening Kai in third year, sweet hoobaes who followed them around campus between classes. Though Taehyun had the unsteady vulnerability of a nineteen year old about him, he was excellent at cooking and the four of them ended up at his family's place in Gangnam on many quieter nights.
The breadth of Soobin’s life hasn’t been wide, but he likes to think it’s meaningful. He’s never been popular, or all that smart, but something seems to be keeping Beomgyu by his side.
Soobin must have drift off without realizing, because when he opens his eyes, Beomgyu is standing at the foot of the bed with a bag of shrimp crackers. When he sees Soobin is awake, he puts the shrimp crackers on his desk and climbs into the bed.
“What?” Soobin asks.
“What what?”
“You’re staring at me.”
“It’s just funny,” Beomgyu says. He sits against the pillows and crosses his legs. His pants smell like grass and Soobin thinks he might have been sitting in the backyard with Taehyun before he came in.
“Like, seeing you in my room.”
Soobin turns on his side to look up at Beomgyu. “And?”
“And nothing,” Beomgyu says, “you fit here.”
He does. It feels right lying here on Beomgyu’s bed, surrounded by the familiar smells, but Soobin doesn’t know to agree with that out loud.
“Sorry my parents grilled you.”
Soobin sits up because it feels strange to look up at Beomgyu like this. Beomgyu cozies up to him on instinct, head curled into Soobin’s neck. This is how they sit in Beomgyu or Soobin’s apartment after a tiring day. It’s different here with Beomgyu’s parents in the house. It’s also the same. Soobin notices how Beomgyu locked the door and he feels like they’re doing something secret. His stomach is tight.
All Soobin can feel is every part of where their bodies touch. He wonders if he’s always been like this. It’s a hot day and it doesn’t make sense to cuddle, yet Beomgyu seems to want the closeness regardless.
“It’s okay,” he says. Nothing really makes sense.
“Okay but,” Beomgyu sighs, breathing ghosting warmly on Soobin’s collarbone, “just know they’re only asking because they’re nosey. My dad is the nosiest person on earth.”
“Your mom is really nice.”
“She likes you,” Beomgyu says, “when I show her pictures of you she always says you look handsome and kind and polite and stuff.”
“When did you show her pictures of me?”
“Just you know, whenever I take them.”
Beomgyu does take a lot of pictures, sometimes just of Soobin, but mostly of the two of them together. He has a polaroid camera, a disposable, and his regular iPhone. He’s something of an archivist. He’s already taken a few snaps of Taehyun in the backyard and takes them out his pocket and places into them Soobin’s hands.
“I took three so we each could have one.”
“Why would I want a picture of Taehyun,” Soobin scowls, but he takes it. Taehyun looks cute lying like a starfish in the grass, and Soobin likes cute things.
“Tyun took this one of me,” Beomgyu shows him. It’s a picture of Beomgyu with a hand over his eye like he’s blocking out the sun. His long eyelashes are accented by the exposure of the photo. When Soobin reaches for it, Beomgyu slaps his hand away.
“What are you doing?”
“He only took one,” Beomgyu says, “I was going to give it to eomma. Why? You want it?”
Soobin shakes his head. “No,” he says, as nonchalantly as possible. He’s realizing that he doesn't have enough pictures of Beomgyu. There’s a brief lurch in his chest, but nothing about his disappointment has ever been visible.
“I don’t want you to feel bad,” Beomgyu says suddenly. He’s holding Soobin’s shoulder. “If you don’t get that internship, I want you to be okay.”
He always is. Being a writer means you fail more than you succeed. It’s not always the failures that bother him, but how no one outside his head sees the effort it takes to keep going.
Except Beomgyu.
So Soobin doesn’t think he’s lying when he flicks Beomgyu’s cheek and says, “I will be okay.”
⌞ ° • + • ° ⌟
Beomgyu’s father has the same guitar Beomgyu plays back home. It’s an older model with thicker bronze strings. Not that Soobin knows much about guitar from a technical standpoint. He can tell there’s a dull difference in sound though, and it makes him nostalgic for a childhood he’s never experienced.
Choi Haejoon’s hands are long and calloused. Good driving hands, Soobin thinks, even better for guitar. They’re similar in shape to Beomgyu’s, but they’re wider, not nearly as soft looking. With the way Beomgyu moisturizes, he’s almost dainty in comparison.
They’re sitting out in the backyard and Beomgyu is grilling meat on the oak table. Taehyun hangs over his shoulder, he and Minhee having finished with the ramyun.
Something is carved into the side of the table. It looks like a messy hangul inscription. Soobin squints until he makes it out.
Lee Minhee ♡ Choi Haejoon
Romantic. Beomgyu always said his parents had a storybook love. This must be one of the tables Haejoon built with his own hands. Among other things. He’d built a bookcase for their new house too. Soobin also recalls something about a TV stand.
Soobin, from where he is draped across an outdoor couch, stands only when Beomgyu’s eyes start to water. Taehyun takes care of it, dabbing a napkin over Beomgyu’s eyes. Soobin is left hovering until he sits down again.
“Lower the heat,” Minhee directs. Beomgyu does.
It’s a clear night, stars dot the sky amidst the light pollution, and after Beomgyu is finished cooking, all he does is stare up.
He’s always been like this, ever since Soobin can remember. He’d sit in the courtyard after exams and crane his neck up to the sky, even if there were clouds, even if it was sunny and scorching. He said that even if there was daylight the stars were up there somewhere, and it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to forget them.
Soobin wants to be closer. He untangles himself from the comfortable couch and makes a place for himself at the table beside Beomgyu. Minhee serves the meat.
“It’s good right?” Beomgyu asks, eyes still on the dots of stars.
“It’s wonderful,” Soobin says truthfully.
Taehyun and Minhee make yummy sounds in agreement.
“What song is that?” Soobin asks, nodding toward Haejoon at the other side of the yard.
“Kim Kwangseok, With A Determined Heart To Forget You,” answers Beomgyu, “I sent you the IU cover before, don’t you remember?”
“I remember.” Third year, through Katalk. Soobin was eating dinner alone. He didn’t have to put his headphones in.
Haejoon is singing softly, a pained expression glittering against the night.
“Your dad could have been a singer.”
“He says that racing is like music, too,” Beomgyu says, “another kind of sound, another kind of effort. It’s just that nobody can see your face. I think he likes that more than anything.”
“That no one sees his face?”
Beomgyu nods as he sips his beer. “Performing is too public.”
Soobin wonders if Beomgyu is like that. Beomgyu has always loved art, but art shows make him nervous. He’s always been hesitant to show up to class exhibits, but he does like being praised for good work.
Despite the shyness, Beomgyu likes to be seen. He likes presenting in class and receiving applause. He likes telling a story and making it a spectacle, making people laugh. Making Soobin laugh.
He even likes this, right now, when Soobin leans his head on his fingers to watch him sing along with his father—
The countless stars in the night sky
Even though each is beautiful
And their eyes meet by accident, Soobin’s head slipping from his fingers and his arm falling ungracefully onto the oak.
There is one bright star within my heart
Just one – that is you
Beomgyu finishes the line and bursts into silent laughter, leaning his head into the mess of limbs that Soobin has become, turning him into a graceful shape, fitting himself into even the embarrassing parts.
⌞ ° • + • ° ⌟
Sunday is a day of brilliant sunshine. The flies have made their home elsewhere and Minhee opens nearly every window in their home. They eat rolled omelet and rice for a late breakfast and then they all trek up one of the smaller mountains. It’s a cloudy day and the view looks like a folded blanket, the creases of sky a bright blue among the grey.
Beomgyu’s mother packed dosirak and Soobin eats nearly all the gimbap before Taehyun reminds him to slow down and save from everyone else. Soobin argues that it’s warm and the weather combined with the steep walk took up his energy.
Beomgyu stuffs a wad of rice into Soobin’s mouth to shut him up. When his dad laughs it feels like family, if Soobin were to try and define the connotation of the noise.
“He’s a young man, let him eat,” scolds Beomgyu’s mother.
“So I’m not a young man?” Beomgyu asks.
He’s met with a dismissive wave of the hand before his mother regrets it and pulls him against her side to kiss his forehead.
Watching Beomgyu receive affection from his parents reminds Soobin of swallowing warm tea on an empty stomach. The coating of warmth is simple and direct.
“Don’t you like the air better up here?” asks Beomgyu’s father.
It’s thinner, and Soobin has a strange pressure behind his ears, but it does feel cleaner than down in the city. “It’s nice,” he says.
Taehyun is leaving on Wednesday to meet Kai at the airport so they’re making the most of their time.
In the afternoon, Taehyun, Beomgyu, and Soobin take the subway to Chilseong market, while Beomgyu’s parents head to his aunt’s house to drop off extra food.
“It’s always nice to spend the evening here,” Beomgyu says, linking his arm with Soobin’s.
Soobin nods, grateful for Beomgyu’s steady touch among the crowd of bustling visitors.
They’re in jjimgalbi alley and Soobin is eyeing the food with a growling tummy. Taehyun is off somewhere facetiming Kai who apparently needed to talk about something urgent.
“You want bulgogi?” Beomgyu asks, tugging them toward a tent. The heat from the burners rises around them and Soobin gets too warm in his sweater. The crowd certainly doesn’t help. He likes the atmosphere, even more because Beomgyu seems to like it, but he’d rather get into a cool space as soon as possible.
Beomgyu buys the bulgogi and eomuk quickly, chatting briefly with the ajumma at the stall to compliment her hat.
He leads them into an alleyway and sits Soobin down on the stairs at the back of a restaurant where the sounds are less direct.
“It’s fun but it’s overwhelming,” Beomgyu says.
Soobin nods. The bulgogi is much tastier than he’s had back home. Beomgyu sits down next to him and takes the chopsticks.
“Yah,” Soobin protests weekly, but then Beomgyu is feeding it to him and he relaxes, takes it down slow. He’s tired. He’s always tired.
He can’t help but lean into Beomgyu’s shoulder, letting his eyes droop as he chews. Beomgyu meets his gaze and smiles. Soobin smiles back and realizes how close they are, how Beomgyu smells like fire and flowers.
“Beomgyu,” he says, just to say it. It’s such a funny, nice name. Spring-like. Strong. Beomgyu is all of those things and more.
“You have,” Beomgyu cuts himself off and wips the sauce off the corner of Soobin's mouth with his thumb. “All gone.” He licks his thumb and laughs.
Soobin wishes there were more sauce, so that it covered a bigger area of his face. He wants Beomgyu to keep touching him like that, gentle and focused, with his mouth that always quivered with the beginnings of endearment, or love, or whatever you call what he feels for Soobin.
He wipes his thumb on his jeans and that’s the last of the bulgogi.
Beomgyu pats Soobin’s knee to get his attention though he already has it, and that’s electric too, a tingle down Soobin’s spine and accumulating in his tailbone. Beomgyu drops his head to look into Soobin’s eyes. His brown bangs fall over his forehead. “Want to go home?”
“It’s okay,” Soobin says. Beomgyu hasn’t been here in months. He deserves to spend quality time in his hometown.
Beomgyu shakes his head. “We’re going home. I have made the executive decision. I’ll call Taehyun.” He gets off the stoop and kisses the top of Soobin’s head. He hands Soobin the plastic bags with various meat and snacks and fish so that his hands are free to make the call.
The overwhelmed part of Soobin’s brain surrenders, and he lets his hands adjust to the weight of bags, the vibration of Beomgyu’s voice resonating against his body when he leans over him and says, “come meet us, we want to get going.”
When they meet up with Taehyun on the sidewalk outside Chilseong, Taehyun looks like he’s been crying.
Soobin’s tiredness is replaced by concern. “Tyun-ah, what happened?”
“Nothing,” Taehyun says. His eyes are focused on the cars passing by, and Soobin knows it will have to wait.
They take the subway, sticking close to each other, Taehyun leaning heavily into Soobin’s side, Beomgyu sturdy beside Soobin’s flimsy posture. They’re each carrying one bag. Soobin has been generously gifted the least heavy portion of meat and Beomgyu takes on the heaviest. The world in the tunnel feels grainy around them, the dry air clawing at Soobin’s eyes the more he tries to blink it away.
At home, Taehyun collapses on Beomgyu’s bed and covers his face with his hands.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Beomgyu asks.
“Kai told his parents about us,” Taehyun says, “even though I said I wanted to wait.”
Soobin fights the brain fog to come up with coherent advice, but he falls short. He exchanges a glance with Beomgyu who sits above Taehyun and starts to pet him like a cat.
“What was his reason?”
“He said his parents were trying to set him up with someone,” Taehyun says, “not like an arranged marriage or anything. They know he’s bisexual but they wanted to be supportive and get him a date.”
“I guess that’s a good thing,” Soobin tries, “I mean that his parents are supportive.”
Taehyun removes his hands so they can see how red his eyes are. “And my parents?”
Beomgyu makes a despondent noise and shuffles closer. He lies down next to Taehyun and puts a hand on his chest. “Kai’s parents won’t tell them.”
“That’s not why I’m angry,” Taehyun says, “I know they won’t. But he could have waited, couldn’t he, hyung? Am I being a coward?”
“No,” Soobin says. He doesn’t know how, but he’s sure that Taehyun could never be classified that way. “It’s scary,” he adds, and it doesn't require much explanation for Taehyun and Beomgyu to understand what he means.
“I’m more angry at myself,” Taehyun says, “I don’t blame him. He should probably date someone who’s more… free, or whatever.” Taehyun sits up and lets Beomgyu rub his back in slow circles.
“Your circumstances are not your fault,” Beomgyu says.
Taehyun shuts his eyes and doesn’t say anything. It’s quiet for a while. They haven’t even turned on the lights, and the room is full of dramatic shadows.
“Tyun-aaah, I think you guys need to talk about it more,” Beomgyu says softly. He’s so gentle when he wants to be and Soobin feels liquid with it, even when Beomgyu’s directing that genteless toward someone else. “He would never intentionally hurt you.”
Soobin cuddles Taehyun’s other side. “I have faith in you,” Soobin says, “things will work out. Hueningie loves you.”
They stay there for a long time letting Taehyun vent and cry. At the end of it, Taehyun sniffs and says, “I won’t let us breakup over this. I just need to understand it better.”
“You can call him again if you want,” Soobin suggests, “do you want me to call him?”
Taehyun shakes his head. He looks younger. He looks his age.
“Get some rest first,” Beomgyu says, “do you want hyung to make you some tea?”
“Okay.”
Taehyun stays leaning against Soobin as Beomgyu clatters around in the kitchen. They hear Beomgyu’s parents ask what he’s doing and a low-toned, fake explanation for why he’s making tea at half-past midnight puts the beginning of a smile on Taehyun’s face.
“In a lot of ways I’m lucky,” Taehyun whispers.
“Mm.”
Taehyun looks up at Soobin. “You know what I mean? I fell in love with my best friend and he ended up loving me back. That doesn’t happen very often, hyung.”
“It doesn’t,” Soobin agrees. He picks at the seams of his pants and tries to stop himself from thinking. Soobin was the first person Kai told about his feelings for Taehyun. At the time, Soobin didn’t know how to handle something so fragile. He’d always thought love was too hard a concept for him to understand. But it had been easy with Kai and Taehyun. Kai was honest, and it made Taehyun honest too.
He stares at the sliver of light under the door until Beomgyu opens it, slicing through the grey-ish tones, with two cups of gyepi tea instead of one. He hands one of the cups to Soobin and sits on his lap.
“Give me some first,” Beomgyu says.
Soobin tilts the mug into Beomgyu’s mouth at their practiced angle, making sure he doesn’t spill it on them. He does this when Beomgyu is sick, and sometimes when Beomgyu is healthy. It’s up to Beomgyu, really.
Taehyun is staring at them.
“What?” Soobin asks.
“Nothing,” Taehyun says, “the tea is good.”
By the time Soobin and Beomgyu finish the tea between them, Taehyun has collected himself and decided to go back to his room.
“You can sleep with us,” Beomgyu insists, “it’ll be like a sleepover.”
“Thanks hyung, but I never did like sleepovers much,” Taehyun smiles. He shuts the door behind him with a quiet click.
“He’s like a real adult,” Beomgyu sighs, flopping back against the pillows. He rubs his eyes and then taps his fingers together.
“And we’re not?” Soobin asks.
“Do you feel like one?”
Soobin considers it. He flops down too, his hair connected to Beomgyu’s hair, and laces his fingers over his stomach. “Every time I fail I think I get a little older.”
Beomgyu rolls onto his stomach. He pushes down on the middle of Soobin’s tummy.
“Ow.”
“You don’t fail,” Beomgyu says, “or maybe you do fail, but you move forward. It’s not a bad thing.”
“Beomgyu.”
“Yes.”
Beomgyu glitters in the dark. Not just his eyes, the ends of his hair, the oily parts of his skin.
“If I don’t get this internship, there’s literally no other prospects for me. I’ll have to get a desk job and try not to let it kill me.”
“Well,” Beomgyu says slowly, “me too. I’m studying art, hyung. It’s not like I’ll have a physics degree. If I have to go for a Master’s in physical science I won’t be happy. I think that’s why I’m really considering going back to barista work.”
Beomgyu only took physics to supplement his parents’ science requirement. At least once science course, they said, and you don’t have to like it. It’s for your own good. Beomseok has done it too. Physics was the course most related to Beomgyu’s art classes, like sculpture, and woodworking.
“I know,” Soobin says. He shifts his head closer so their heads touch.
“You’re doing so good,” Beomgyu says in a quieter voice, “you’ve worked so hard.”
“Have I really?”
Beomgyu frowns. He looks funny when he’s angry, like he’s trying too hard. He doesn't really even look angry, just disgruntled, like he’s been poked in the ribs. “Don’t ask me dumb questions,” he says, “you managed an 81% average.”
The things he doesn’t say are implied by the way his hand goes flat against Soobin’s heart.
Soobin and Beomgyu are not at all like Taehyun, who’s already had three jobs and is currently slated for an internship in architecture. Neither of them have worked very much. Beomgyu had a part-time job as a barista for their first two years, but with the added pressures of school it became too much to handle and he resigned in third year.
Soobin, though he feels guilty and worried about it, never bothered to find a part-job. It seemed like extra work. He’d rather not spend any money at all or contribute to his savings. School was already tiring enough. And third year came, and it was probably the worst year of his life so far. It was hard to even brush his teeth everyday, let alone after meals. Yeonjun had to force breakfast upon him. Sometimes even Yeonjun didn’t know what to do and called Beomgyu for advice. Soobin never felt more like a child than he did then, and it was shameful.
“Nothing is wrong with hyung,” Beomgyu had said, cupping Soobin’s chin and drawing his face up to meet him halfway in a quiet place behind the accounting building, “you’re doing the best you can.”
It didn’t make sense for a while, how Beomgyu saw him. Saw him as someone strong, someone normal and human despite the grotesque shape of all his guilt that ate and ate at him.
After classes, all Soobin could stand to do was lie on his bed and stare at the bubbles of his water-stained popcorn ceiling while he waited for Beomgyu’s goodnight call. That year was the worst for both of them, and no one saw it like they did.
All this to say that they understand each other, and now that they’ve graduated it feels more important than ever to have someone who has seen your journey.
They have never made each other feel bad, and Soobin thinks, well, what else could you ever ask for in a friend? In the dark, listening to Beomgyu’s light breathing remind him he’s alive, he feels gratefulness swooping around inside his body. It feels like he’s swallowed light. Warm and full, so soft he could tear, and if he opens his mouth it’ll all pour out where Beomgyu can see it.
He keeps his mouth closed. There are many variations of shame and it’s hard to get rid of all of them.
Beomgyu roams around for his AirPods and gives one to Soobin. He puts their favorite Melon playlist on shuffle and turns onto his side. Some of these songs are momentous. “TOMBOY” by Hyukoh was added during one of Beomgyu’s anxiety spirals after quitting his job. “Healer” was added on the first night Beomgyu slept over at Soobin and Yeonjun’s place, curled up on the sofa in Soobin’s hoodie because the emptiness of his apartment had claws. They still love to belt that song at noraebang. Soobin added Lee Jang Hee’s “I will give everything to you,” a few months ago when Beomgyu was missing home, and when Beomgyu realized he’d kissed Soobin’s hands and buried himself in his chest.
“Soobin hyung. How hard have you worked?” Beomgyu asks.
“Very hard,” Soobin answers.
It's the right answer. Beomgyu smiles, Soobin smiles.
“What about Beomgyu?” Soobin asks, “how hard has Beomgyu worked?”
“Okay, hyung! Shh.” Beomgyu giggles into the back of his hand. He brushes his bangs away from his eyes to stare up at Soobin, newly sparkling.
He always does this. He lets Soobin take more than he’s earned.
Soobin doesn’t have to earn anything at all. Beomgyu is here. Beomgyu is the only thing in Soobin’s life that has ever felt easy.
⌞ ° • + • ° ⌟
Soobin wakes up before dawn matures into a sunrise. He still has one of Beomgyu’s AirPods in and it’s playing ADOY’s ‘Baby.’ He’s surprised the AirPods haven’t died before he realizes it’s only been a few hours since they fell asleep.
Beomgyu is still sleeping folded in half on his side, cheek pressed into the pillow and nose twitching like he’s having a dream.
It’s okay to just stare at him. He doesn’t have to justify it. It’s quiet for now, no cars outside, no parents rattling in the kitchen.
It’s like a witching hour, one where Soobin can allow himself one tiny unthinkable wish. The only stipulation is that he can’t think it out loud lest it materialize into a humiliating shape. All he can do is feel it and feel it until it takes root in the pit of his stomach. It takes the shape of Beomgyu’s eyelashes as they flutter.
Soobin holds his breath, but Beomgyu’s eyes don’t open.
He looks small with the duvet tucked under his chin. Beomgyu’s face hasn’t changed much since they first met. His jaw might be more defined, but then again, he’s always had a sharp jaw from certain angles. There are some new freckles under his eyes, and Soobin wonders if they’re new from accumulated days spent in the sun, or if he failed to notice them before. It seems impossible not to notice when he has inevitably spent more time studying Beomgyu than he has on his courses.
When they met, Soobin thought they’d have a friendship of convenience. Soobin and Yeonjun’s apartment was on the same street as Beomgyu’s, nearly off campus but not quiet, and so they invited him to split the cost of delivery food. Beomgyu was in three of his classes, art history, Korean history, and creative writing, so they shared notes or filled each other in on missed classes.
And then sometimes it was nice to invite Beomgyu over when he and Yeonjun had already bought the food themselves. Sometimes he showed up at Beomgyu’s door just to play League or bring him Chilsung he’d buy from the CU down the block at 11pm.
Beomgyu accepted all of Soobin’s half-hearted excuses until one day he tossed his head onto Soobins lap and said, “I guess hyung can’t live without me,” and he was met with a pause that meant Soobin was finally admitting they were real friends.
Beomgyu always sees things the way he wants to see them, but when it comes to Soobin he’s mostly right.
Except for the things he doesn’t see.
Things that are invisible are always confusing. Pain, grief, love, desire. Things that don’t show on the outside unless you cry or bare your wounds or pop a hard-on.
Soobin wonders if Beomgyu can feel him staring even if he’s asleep. If somewhere in his subconscious he can feel the pulse under Soobin’s wrists, how it quickens when he brings his leg out from under the duvet and folds it around the sheets.
Beomgyu’s wearing thin blue gym shorts. There’s a scrape on his shin from when they broke several bylaws and climbed one of the trees on the hiking trail. Mosquito bites make themselves at home in at least three smooth spaces on his calf and thigh.
The mosquitoes are lucky, Soobin’s brain says before he can catch it and argue with himself. He’s truly disgusting. He fixates on the blood swelling under Beomgyu’s skin and thinks about touching. He doesn’t though. He’s not depraved.
He slides forward just enough to feel Beomgyu’s breath peeling over his nose.
There are six freckles under Beomgyu’s left eye, and three under his right. Some of these are definitely new, Soobin decides.
He breathes out and watches Beomgyu’s face react to it, the barely-there twitch of his mouth.
It’s dawn when Beomgyu opens his eyes. Soobin is still staring and it’s too late to look away.
Beomgyu blinks slowly, like he’s coming back into his body. Soobin wants to ask if he was dreaming, but his lips feel too heavy to move.
“Too early,” Beomgyu mumbles, “come closer.”
Soobin isn’t sure how or if those statements are related, but he shuffles even closer, presses his body against Beomgyu’s and lets him wrap his bitten leg around his waist.
“Did you put Fucidin on that?” Of all the things Soobin could say with Beomgyu wrapped around him, he says this.
“Yeah,” Beomgyu answers, “burned.”
“Still?”
Their foreheads are pressed together and it feels so like a dream how Beomgyu’s hand flits through his hair and lands on his earlobe that Soobin almost thinks it’s another pesky mosquito. But then Beomgyu presses Soobin’s ear between his fingers like a leaf, and he remembers that it’s flesh. Beomgyu’s flesh against his.
Beomgyu looks into Soobin’s soul, sniffs once. “Still,” he says. His eyes drop to Soobin’s lips.
Soobin freezes. Maybe he thinks Soobin is someone else. Whoever he was dreaming about, if he was dreaming. If he dreams about someone else.
“You can,” Beomgyu says, “come closer.”
Soobin can't come any closer. He’s too ticklish, nerves caught in his throat. “I’m Soobin,” he clarifies.
“Closer, Soobin-ah,” Beomgyu repeats with a kiddish smile.
Soobin’s stomach drops. He isn’t sure who kisses first, but for a while it’s stagnant and the room gets heavy with haze.
And then Beomgyu’s balmed lips press lightly against Soobin’s. Soobin’s lips part. He presses back like that, messy, every breath caught so tightly in his throat that he can’t help but make a choking sound when Beomgyu’s tongue drops out to circle the perimeter of Soobin’s mouth, like Soobin’s a river he’s lapping from.
All Soobin can think of is that they’ve never done this before. At parties they’re always the first ones to be dared to kiss, but Soobin always refuses. Partly because of embarrassment, partly because if he ever did kiss Beomgyu, he wouldn’t want it to be in front of sweaty drunk people who wanted to see two men kiss for the spectacle.
Beomgyu runs a hand up the back of Soobin’s neck, into his hair, and tugs. All Soobin can think is that they’ve never done this before, they’ve never done this before, and it feels good. Better than anything.
And then he’s thinking, why am I doing this? Is this okay? Should I stop?
He kisses Beomgyu harder, grips behind Beomgyu’s knee to anchor himself and it makes Beomgyu grind against him, which is.
Unbelievable, really.
Even Soobin’s dirtiest dreams don’t feel like this.
Beomgyu seems to like the knee thing, so Soobin squeezes his thigh, digs his nails in like he does when they wrestle for the remote, and then he’s being rolled onto his back and Beomgyu is on top of him, kissing him breathless.
The bed creaks when they grind together, but to Soobin it’s all white noise. He’s already hard, shockwaves shooting up his hands where he’s touching the skin of Beomgyu’s back under his t-shirt.
Beomgyu pulls back and curses, his eyebrows crumpled. “Hyung,” he says, “like this.” He takes Soobin’s hands and places them against his chest, guiding them to circle over his nipples. Soobin almost wants to look away. His face burns. He can’t look away.
“You can pinch me,” Beomgyu says, “bite me, anything.”
Soobin pinches Beomgyu’s nipple.
“Yeah,” Beomgyu yelps in a choked whisper, “like it’s our last night together before my parents marry me off, do it like that.”
All the blood rushes from Soobin’s face to his dick. He can do that. He pushes himself up into a sitting position so the angle is better, the friction more intense. He sinks his teeth into Beomgyu’s shoulder and takes his nipple hard between his fingers.
Beomgyu swallows a shout. His parents room is right across the hall.
“If it was our last night together,” Soobin pants, “we wouldn’t be doing this.” His brain is open-mouthed, speaking through him like he’s been possessed by his own secrets. It feels freeing to finally say it. “I would fuck you. I would break you for anyone else.”
“Fuck. How,” Beomgyu asks, “tell me how. His voice is high-pitched, sort of funny. Soobin has never heard him sound like this before. He sounds hurt, unhinged.
Soobin has imagined it enough to have prepared a perfectly crafted scenario. He hopes Beomgyu won’t hold it against him later.
“I’d put you on your back, push your legs up to your shoulders because I know you can bend like that,” Soobin says, and Beomgyu’s gasp is all he needs to keep going, “I’d tie your wrists up because they’re so fucking small and pretty and you’d look like a perfect doll. I’d stuff my shirt in your mouth so your family doesn’t hear, but they’d hear anyway because you just can’t keep quiet. I’d make you so wet, I’d use so much lube so when it gets rough it won’t hurt so badly.”
“Please, want it to hurt,” Beomgyu says through clenched teeth.
“It will baby,” Soobin says, backtracking, “your back, your legs, your asshole, everything will be sore for days. I’d break this stupid, flimsy bed. I’d scratch you, bruise you, sprain your thighs. No one will even want to marry a ruined whore like you.”
“Holy fuck Soobin,” Beomgyu gasps, high pitched with his head thrown back, and then he’s coming in his shorts and Soobin can feel it against his dick.
Beomgyu rests his forehead against Soobin’s, panting against his mouth with morning breath that Soobin wants to devour and keep forever.
“Calling me baby and whore in one sentence,” Beomgyu says. He looks stupidly fond and Soobin’s mouth trembles with the attention.
“To be fair,” Soobin says, “it was more than one sentence.”
Beomgyu laughs and kisses under his ear, starts palming his erection through his pajama pants.
“Want you to come too,” Beomgyu says.
Soobin closes his eyes and focuses on the pressure. He takes Beomgyu’s hand and slips it under the hem of his boxers.
“Yes,” Beomgyu says, though Soobin didn’t ask a question. He slides the precome up and down and keeps working on the bruise between Soobin’s ear and neck.
Soobin doesn’t spurt like Beomgyu did, but the orgasm is good, better than the ones he’s had from stroking himself, and a comforting tiredness envelopes him as Beomgyu runs across the hall to the bathroom and back. He wipes them off with a hand towel. Quietness falls around them.
“We’ve never done that before,” Beomgyu says. He tucks his knees up under his chin and presses his mouth against his knee.
He’s glowing pink and orange, both from flushed skin and the sunrise.
He giggles when Soobin cracks a smile.
“It didn’t feel weird right?” Beomgyu asks, his face riddled with worry. It takes one glance for Soobin to know that what he means is “I didn’t feel weird right? You don’t think less of me now?”
Soobin nudges Beomgyu’s toe with his. “It didn’t feel weird. You didn’t feel weird.”
“Should I be apologizing?”
“You shouldn’t.”
Beomgyu plops onto his side, knees still tucked so he’s now more of a ball shape, and he groans.
Soobin should probably say something else. Something to reassure him. Instead all he can do is shuffle down into the mattress, mould a hand over Beomgyu’s hip, and wait for another day to begin. Soobin thinks he’s made of clay, the way he fits around Beomgyu. Beomgyu, still flushed and human, pretends to fall back asleep.
⌞ ° • + • ° ⌟
Beomgyu’s mother is good at tennis. Lee Minhee was the star player at her university’s tennis club, so her backhand is, by Soobin’s unathletic standards, absolutely killer.
“I win again!” Minhee cheers, as if Soobin had any chance in the first place.
“Yeah eomma!!” Beomgyu shouts. He’s seated on the metal bleachers with Beomseok and a tiny tangerine he hasn’t finished within the hour they’ve been here. Beomseok is wearing a cap that covers his eyes. For all Soobin knows, he might be asleep. Beomgyu says his brother is the lazier one out of the two of them, and Soobin has seen it in action. Beomseok doesn’t like doing much other than gaming.
“You go,” Soobin says tiredly.
Taehyun flexes his arms and picks up his rackets. “Ready eommoni?”
“Always,” comes Minhee’s energetic reply.
Beomgyu is enjoying this. He yells and cheers every time his mother scores, jeers and boos every time Taehyun scores. When Soobin was playing, he was quiet until the end.
Things aren’t necessarily awkward between them, but they haven’t had much time to be alone and let it sink in. It’s evening now, Taehyun is leaving later tonight on an overnight KTX ride to Gimpo airport to pick Kai up in the early morning hours. Tennis is the day’s bright finale. After this they’re going to have dinner in the parkette down Beomgyu’s street and after that they will go to bed. Soobin wonders if there’s another connotation to all of that now.
Kicking the gravel under his shoe, Soobin wonders what tonight will be like. Where they go from here. If it means anything at all that Beomgyu came so hard for him. For him, under his hands. If Beomgyu wants to forget it happened.
Beomgyu isn’t the type to walk away from something like this without an explanation. Even when he’s tired and snappy to Soobin, he offers him an olive branch the next day, sometimes even a direct explanation and apology.
A part of Soobin feels like he should be the one to do that this time. He should take responsibility, as the elder, or even as the person who rarely knows how. He should learn how to handle Beomgyu’s heart.
He watches Taehyun serve an ace and wonders how heavy his heart is, if he’s going to fight with Kai. Soobin knows he won’t. He’ll pick Kai up from Gimpo with a smile on his face, offer to carry his luggage. He’ll take Kai back to their apartment and make a light breakfast so they have something in their stomachs when they sit down to talk it out. Taehyun knows that Kai is irritable when he’s hungry. They always speak gently to each other. Eventually they’ll work it out.
Soobin wonders what it means that he has always had more confidence in others’ relationships than in his own.
“Good game, Taehyun-ah,” Minhee says when Taehyun wins.
“You let him win,” Beomgyu accuses.
“No way!” Minhee retorts, “I’m not a pushover like Appa.”
“Appa always lets her win,” Beomgyu informs Soobin.
“Ah. Of course.” If Soobin was good at something, he’d let Beomgyu win too.
The sound of friction between sneakers and pavement and tennis balls to rackets fill the air again as Minhee starts another round, this time with Beomgyu. This one lasts for a while. The rallies are long because Beomgyu is an expert at his mother’s playing style.
Taehyun leans his head on Soobin’s shoulder and flicks a tiny fly off his pants. Soobin’s jeans are torn at the knee.
“The barometric pressure must be low today,” Taehyun says, “they said a storm is coming tomorrow afternoon.”
Monsoon period is predicted to be short this year and it won’t arrive for another few weeks, so storms weren’t on Soobin’s personal radar. But Taehyun’s right, a pre-monsoon storm is already in the air, holding its breath and preparing to burst.
“You know they can smell it,” Taehyun says ominously, “your blood. They crave for it before storms.”
“Flies? I thought that was mosquitoes.”
“They’re more similar than you think. Mosquitoes have a worse reputation because of the way they look. But flies carry diseases too.”
He looks grim for a minute and then bursts into a giggly smile at Soobin’s disgusted expression.
“Yah, Kang Taehyun,” scolds Soobin, “did you make all that stuff up?”
“Yeah,” Taehyun says, staring, “sure I did, hyung.”
Soobin can’t tell if he’s lying or not.
“What is Taehyun torturing hyung about?” Beomgyu asks. He grabs the water bottle next to Soobin and squeezes it into his mouth like a pro-athlete.
“Do flies bite when it rains?” Soobin asks Beomgyu.
“I won by the way,” Beomgyu frowns.
“Congrats,” Soobin says.
“That’s it?”
“Should I get up and cheer for you?” Soobin asks.
“Not if you’re going to be a jerk about it,” Beomgyu replies sadly. He sits down on the bottom bleachers and rests his chin on his hands.
“Yay Beomgyu!!” Soobin yells, standing up on the bleachers to tower over everything else. “Beomgyu won!! Go Beomgyu!! Choi Beomgyu, Choi Beomgyu, Choi Beomgyu!! Congratulations Beomgyu-yaaaah!”
Beomgyu is rolling around on the pavement, laughing so hard tears start to spill out of the corners of his hands.
“Eh?” Minhee shouts, “why didn’t I get that kind of reaction?”
“Eo! Mmo! Ni!” Taehyun cheers.
Beomgyu laughs harder, which makes Soobin laugh harder. Soobin thinks he might start hyperventilating if he’s not careful.
“Pabo-yah,” Beomgyu coughs as Soobin steps down to help him off the ground. He lays deadweight in Soobin’s arms, tossing his head back for dramatic effect, but Soobin manages just fine. He picks him up and drags him to the bleachers and tries not to think too much about Beomgyu’s neck.
Beomgyu lies down horizontally on the warm metal, one knee bent in the air. His face is still flushed with the remnants of laughter. His stomach rises and falls as he tries to calm down. Soobin can’t look away, fixating on the strip of skin that appears when Beomgyu throws his hands behind his head.
Beomgyu notices everything. He meets Soobin’s eyes and pulls the hem of his shirt down with a questioning look.
“What,” Soobin says, even though he knows what.
By way of answer, Beomgyu drops one leg off the bleachers to widen the space between his legs.
Soobin’s pulse quickens, his already sweaty chest getting sweatier.
“Hyung is a sore loser,” he says, snapping his knees together and sitting up, “doesn’t eomma think so?”
“Ah, Soobinnie tried his best.” Minhee is packing up their rackets, sliding them back into their cases. Taehyun is collecting the balls. Soobin was so unaware of all of it. There must be something wrong with him.
He feels sort of sick on the car ride back. Minhee keeps looking back at him in the rearview mirror and asking if he’ll be alright for the 40 minute drive home, and of course he says yes.
She pulls over on an empty road and fishes an icepack from the cooler inside the SUV’s hefty trunk.
“Hold this against your forehead,” she says.
Soobin presses it against his forehead. It’s a nice sensation, a small bit of relief from his burning body.
“Flies do bite,” Beomgyu says from the front, “I’ve been bitten before. It’s not as scary as it sounds.”
Beomgyu turns around in the passenger seat, and Soobin feels whiplashed again. He shuts his eyes. Not looking feels like the hardest thing he’s ever had to do.