Archive of Our Own

The room is starting to spin, and Yeonjun only has his measly little chair to keep him upright. He sucks in a sharp breath; this was the worst time possible for his flu medication to stop working. 

Their interviewer seems none the wisest, with an excited smile on her face as she continues talking. Yeonjun likes her; she is one of the nicer interviewers who actually do a bit of research before sitting down with them. "Yesterday, a press conference was held where your upcoming album was announced. Fifth studio album is crazy — are you guys excited?"

Soobin shoots him a small glance as he answers, professional despite the small lines of worry around his eyes. "It's very exciting! All of the members have been eagerly participating in writing and composing and..."

Yeonjun tunes him out, instead focusing on his shallow breathing and the small beads of sweat on his hairline. The lines are rehearsed, and nothing new Yeonjun hasn't heard before, so he is allowed to daydream wistfully about the fever medication sitting snugly in his duffel bag in the green room. His fingers adjust his tight collar, the fabric itching against his skin; his smile had been tight when he had been handed a stuffy jacket on a fine June morning, but at least the beaded diamonds and vibrant reds are pretty. It had its advantages too — it was thick enough to hide Beomgyu's sneaking hand underneath it. He hopes the camera doesn't catch anything.

His nausea alleviates just the slightest bit; Beomgyu had been tireless in rubbing his back in comfort, not unlike a mother soothing her teething baby. Yeonjun feels like one too, sleep tugging at his eyelids. 

"Onto a bit more fun topic — what are your guys' ideal types?" 

He startles with a silent huff. It's not a new question; it's something they had been asked again and again, in hopes of stirring their fans up, but it makes him nervous all the same. They go in their official order, because of course, and after the most vague description Soobin can give that has totally nothing to do with the person he had been dating for the past few months, it's Yeonjun's turn.

He is used to curious attention being on him, eyes watching everyone move, but somehow it's Beomgyu's sparkling gaze that makes him stumble through his words as he chooses the first few random things that come to mind. "Somebody... wise and very cool," He says, gulping soundly. "Older." 

That apparently wasn't the right thing to say because Beomgyu stops in his ministrations on his back, hand returning to his lap as if burned. 

The rest of the interview passes in a daze, reddened by his growing fever. 

৻ꪆ

The nasty bug eventually goes away, with the help of medication and the huge bag of vitamins Soobin likes to carry around, but the feeling that he has done something wrong persists.

"Take a five!" Their dance director calls out loudly, cutting through the booming speakers. Yeonjun leans against his knees, gasping for air. Sniffling, he runs his fingers through his hair, ridden with sweat and oil because he had been too lazy to wash it last night, instead opting for a quick shower and a nap on the couch that lasted 9 hours after their schedules yesterday. "I'm getting too old for this."

"Hyung, we have been telling you since forever, how come you realize this only now?" Playful fingers pinch the skin of his cheek, tugging roughly. Yeonjun swats them away with an eyeroll. "You are talking as if you are so young yourself."

Beomgyu grins, all of his teeth on display. "Younger than you, at least."

Yeonjun scoffs, but it sounds half-hearted even to his own ears. He stares, incredulously, but Beomgyu doesn't seem to mind, bending down to tie his shoelaces with a content hum.

It's been two days since that interview, and Yeonjun feels off-kilter, waiting with bated breath for something. Something that would make him twist and turn at night, unable to sleep at night because of thoughts and worries he can't contain. Instead, there was nothing, as much as he waited for the pin to drop. Beomgyu had returned to his normal self once the interviewer's attention had been directed to him, and that was it.

No pouting, no sulking, no stilted silence because Yeonjun said the first dumb thing that came to mind. Everything stays the same.

Yeonjun doesn't know what he expected exactly.

"Yeonjun-ah," A finger taps on his shoulder. He turns around with a polite smile, already knowing who it was. "Hi, hyung," He says as they step away for the illusion of privacy, even though everybody could hear them anyway.

Jikryeong smiles, crossing his arms. "I got your email. Your demo is quite good, I think management will accept it as it is."

"Really?" Yeonjun wipes at the wetness on his forehead, giddy, willing himself not to look in Beomgyu's direction. Is he watching? "Whoa, that's crazy, I made the melody in an hour."

"Well, the head of A&R thinks it's quite catchy!" Jikryeong giggles, and now Yeonjun is sure that there are eyes prying into his back, searing and intense. "I wanted to ask you to come by the studio later, because your lyrics need a bit of tweaking."

Yeonjun raises an eyebrow, a playful hand on his heart. "Are they that bad?"

"No, no, the hook just needs some razzle and dazzle sprinkled on it, you know?" Jikryeong's sharp teeth glint under the bright lights of the practice room, reminding Yeonjun why they had even gone on a few dates at all, even though it had gone nowhere past some heavy petting. "Don't be a stranger, okay? I'll see you at the studio later!" 

Yeonjun waves, the muscles of his arms protesting at the movement. 

Beomgyu is still watching, still as intense, still with those emotions in his eyes that Yeonjun finds get harder and harder for him to pretend are not there. 

It's been years, he thinks. Since he realized with a startle and a panicked hitch in his voice, since it finally dawned on him why things were always a bit different when it came to him. Why Beomgyu was always so caring with everybody, but it bordered on loving, yearning, when Yeonjun let him close enough when he was stressed and in need of a shoulder to cry on. 

It's been years since he realized that his bandmate, his long-time friend, the person who he considered his favorite little brother, even though he would never say it out loud, thought of him in ways Yeonjun feared weren't platonic. It's probably been even longer since Beomgyu had fallen in love with him, before Yeonjun ever found out. 

He wonders still, when he lets himself reminisce in the comfort of his bed, when he is at his loneliest and two bottles of soju are churning in his stomach, if it had happened in the dust and sweat of their practice rooms when they were trainees. If it had happened when they would sneak out in the middle of the night to eat salty ramen and chocolate milk on the Han river, because their instructors had always been too hard on Beomgyu and Yeonjun would feel restless until he tried to cheer the other up. 

"Alright," Their dance instructor stands up with a groan and a wince that Yeonjun mirrors; 12 hours straight of practicing were always brutal, both to them and their instructors, especially when it came to learning the choreography for a title track. She reaches for the speaker's remote with a sigh, her bleached blonde hair stuck in sweaty clumps atop her head. "Get in position! We are going to crack down on the unit dance parts now." 

There is no use in wondering, Yeonjun thinks as his hand automatically encircles Beomgyu's waist, and they get into position, the loud beats reverberating through his bones. Not when he doesn't return Beomgyu's feelings, and both of them know that very well. 

৻ꪆ

The couch inside of their recording studio isn't the most comfortable, the cushions hard as a rock, stiff and emanating a strange scent, like somebody had spilled their coffee on them years ago but never bothered to clean it up. His body melts as he lies down all the time, sleep stretching the corners of his frayed mind. His arms and legs hang limply off the couch, his phone buzzing atop his chest with messages from their group chat he is too tired to not ignore.

"Can you try to sing it with more air?" Their producer asks softly, hoarse and tired. Recording is always tough, and maybe only their producer aside from them knows exactly how it feels. "More raspy, more sexy, you know?" 

"Yeah," Beomgyu's voice sounds static through the microphone. If Yeonjun were to stop dozing off like an old man on his deathbed, and were to look, he knows he would see Beomgyu beaming through the window of the recording studio, bursting at the seams with energy that Yeonjun can't comprehend. "Like this?" He asks with an exaggerated tone in his voice, deep and rich. 

Yeonjun shivers, despite the heavy hoodie he had donned. His mind drifts, in and out of sleep, as he clutches the pillow closer to his face. Beomgyu had been the last one to record, and Yeonjun chose to stay, for no other reason than that they were going to get takeout together later. Ignoring that he could have simply waited at Soobin and Beomgyu's dorms. 

He always loved a good nap at the studio.

Their producer laughs, "Maybe not as sexy." A series of clicks, and then the familiar sound of a metronome starting. "Okay, now try again." 

He doesn't know how much has passed, vivid images of the fried chicken Beomgyu promised to treat him with later flashing behind his eyelids, when the door opens with a creak and a mechanical groan. "Is Yeonjun still here?" A head pops in — one of their managers. 

"I am—" He blinks wearily, squinting tiredly, raising his hand. "I am here."

"Perfect!" Their manager claps, turning over to their producer. "I am going to steal him for a bit, it won't be too long." 

"What is it that you wanted to talk about?" A yawn rips out of his throat, loud and shameless. He rubs his stomach, unseeing as he lets his manager lead them through the corridors. 

"You'll see." They stop in front of a familiar room. His stomach sinks. The CEO's office. "Remember, no pressure, okay? It's your own choice."

Now, he is starting to panic, all of his exhaustion leaving his body, together with his soul. "...My choice? What—"

"Ah, Yeonjun-ah, come in," The smooth voice of their CEO cut through him sharply. He gulps, a tremble in his hands as he bows in greeting. "We have been waiting for you." 

We?

Letting his body take over, his mind filled with cotton and cobwebs, he sits at the empty chair in front of her desk with a wobbly smile. "Good evening, Shin-sajangnim." He pauses before bowing his head lightly, "Jang-daepyonim." 

A glass of water is poured for him, and he accepts it with unsure hands. His brows furrow — the CEO and the head of the PR department? 

"Have I done anything?" The words stumble out of his mouth before he can stop them, the water unable to wash away the bitter feeling of anxiety in the back of his throat. 

"No, no, don't worry," Shin-sajangnim just laughs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "We know it's sudden but we wanted to talk to you. We hope it's not too much trouble." The world outside is dark, then sun gone as night had already settled, leaving way for the chill of a summer night. It must be important, Yeonjun swallows dryly. 

He shakes his head, the hours and hours of media training drilled in him shoving past the frazzled state of his brain. "No, of course not." 

Shin-sajangnim and Jang-daepyonim share a calculating look, before the latter begins, careful, as if talking to a cornered animal, which Yeonjun may or may not be. The nails of his hand pry through his thin cotton sweatpants into the skin of his thighs.

"The days until the official teaser for your upcoming album are coming closer," He says, voice lilting. "And the preparations for solo release afterward are soon to begin as well. We thought that..."

"...We need to start with the promotion cycle as fast as possible." Shin-sajangnim continues, gaze intense as she watches his every move.

"A bit more... unorthodox promotion cycle, perhaps, is what we have in mind." Jang-daepyonim clarifies, and a figurative lightbulb flashes above Yeonjun's head at that moment. 

"I understand." He nods, serious. Such a thing wasn't rare, not in an industry as cut-throat and unforgiving as theirs, making desperation for success, for more, something Yeonjun knew like the back of his hand. 

"Yeonjun-ah," Shin-sajangnim looks him directly in the eyes, "What do you think about a PR relationship with another celebrity?"

When he steps out of the impromptu meeting, the hallways are deserted, letting him panic freely as he walks back to the recording studio. 

Numb, is what he feels like. Desperation is what claws its way out of his throat, through his esophagus, through the dryness of his mouth, through his lips, pried shut. 

Beomgyu must be done with recording by now. He must be waiting, curious why he had gotten swept away suddenly by one of their managers. He must be waiting, but his feet still drag against the cold floors of their company, head deep in the shadows. 

"Hyung!" Beomgyu stands up once the door opens, pocketing his phone. He reaches for his guitar case and detachedly, Yeonjun looks him over. He had changed out of his practice outfit, opting for a dull flannel and jeans. Nothing he hadn't seen before but his hair looks darker, his eyes look brighter, sparkling under the sharp fluorescent lights. "Everything okay? Jisoo-hyung stole you away suddenly."

Yeonjun chuckles humorlessly. "Yeah, he wanted to ask me about..." He licks his lips, something more than hunger gnawing in its stomach. "About my solo. That's all." 

There is a voice in his mind, that sounds like his own, hissing and snarling at him. 

What has he done? 

Beomgyu blinks. That was a bad lie, even for Yeonjun, but thankfully, he chooses to let it go. "Alright." He says, reaching for Yeonjun's hand. "Come on, I promised you chicken, didn't I?" 

৻ꪆ

"And cut!" 

His hand drops from Beomgyu's waist as he wipes off the sweat on his temple, wincing when his foundation drips into his bloodshot eyes. "Thank you," He nods as he is handed a towel and a portable fan, and makes way for the huddle of makeup artists waiting for them. 

Filming the choreography scenes for a music video never got any easier, no matter how many years of seniority he stacked. Being joined at the hip with Beomgyu didn't make it any easier, even though he would have flipped with joy at the prospect of a unit dance just a few months ago. 

Their director dismisses them with a nod, his cap obscuring his face. "All that's left are the beauty shots and then we are moving to another location. Take a small break." 

A grunt leaves his lips as he sits down on the make up chair. His make up noona clicks her tongue, movements hurried as she attempts to dab away the sweat remaining on his face. "You went too hard. I have to redo your entire base." 

He hums in apology, smile tight as he reaches for his phone. 

"Whoever choreographed this needs to die," He hears Soobin groan, giggles echoing around them. "I am getting too old for this." 

"Sorry," Slips out without much thought. His brows furrow as he greeted by what must be hundreds of unread messages, all seemingly from the past 10 minutes while he had been still filming. 

His blood runs cold, his face pales in horror. There is a hush around them, a concerned curl to his makeup noona's mouth that he hadn't noticed before. They must have all seen it then. 

"Imagine how Yeonjun-hyung feels." Beomgyu laughs, hovering not too far. Yeonjun remains silent, shoulders tense. "Hyung?" Beomgyu asks in concern. "Everything alright?"

His fingers click on the chat that he had been avoiding for the past week, a mocking little 1 in red signaling a new message. It's out, the texts read, they caught our good angles.

There is a tremble in his fingers, his heart stuttering in his chest. His eyes drop to his lap. His phone buzzes again and again, but he refuses to check; Jang-daepyonim must be over the moon, empty praises littering Yeonjun's inbox. 

Yeonjun lets the silence stretch, at a loss for words.

"Yeonjun-hyung," With muted footsteps, Taehyun approaches him, still chained to the makeup chair. His makeup noona steps away, silent. Their eyes meet in the mirror, and Yeonjun winces, a grimace overtaking his features. "Why didn't you tell us you were dating somebody?" 

"I..." He gulps soundly, nervously eyeing Taehyun's outstretched hand, his unlocked phone blaringly bright with the opened article on it.

BREAKING: Top idols Yeonjun of TXT and Yeji of Itzy caught on a date?!

The ride home is awkward, and Yeonjun is sure he isn't imagining the claws of tension choking him, wrapped tightly around his throat. The rest of filming had gone as expected — with him unable to look anybody in the eye, wishing for nothing more than the earth to swallow him, flesh and soul and all, far away from company politics and the cameras. 

"I just-" Soobin's voice cuts through the silence. Yeonjun breathes in sharply, hands tightening around his empty water bottle like a lifeline; for once, the van was big enough for all of them to ride together, for better or for worse. "I just wish you had told us sooner, hyung." 

"We aren't mad, I promise." There is a hard line around Taehyun's eyes, but his hand is warm and heavy atop Yeonjun's shoulder. 

"I know, I..." He sighs heavily, squeezing his eyes shut as a headache looms over him. His tongue feels too heavy and too big for his mouth. He shivers, aircon blowing in his face, wishing he had taken a jacket with him. He had tried to sit in the very back, on the lone seat away from everybody, but Soobin and Taehyun had caught him by the arms and forced him in the three seater, right between them. "I am sorry." 

"I am happy for you hyung," Kai says, all the way in the front. He turns back, phone in hand. "Look, fans seem to be supportive too. Nobody is mad at you."

He smiles shakily. "It's a..." He stutters for a moment, before trying to calm down, letting Soobin intertwine their hands. "It's a pretty new thing. We started talking a few months ago, I didn't expect to..."

He had been given a script, longer and more elaborate than anything he had ever been forced to memorize, but his mind is blanking. He hadn't expected for them to move so fast.

Soobin frowns, fierce, a deep furrow between his eyebrows. "Dispatch have always been such bastards." He shakes his head, scoffing. "No wonder they were all so giggly during our photoshoot with them last week." 

"They were so weird during the interview." Fingers quick as he types on his phone, Taehyun raises an eyebrow. "The interviewer asked Yeonjun-hyung, 'Anything new in your love life?'' while wriggling his eyebrows, and somehow none of us thought anything." 

A nervous chortle bubbles out of him. 

Yeonjun had known, because this wasn't the first time he and that interviewer had met. The quip hadn't gone unnoticed because he, Yeji, and their managers had had a meeting the day before, detailing the timeline Jang-daepyonim had in mind. This was going to boost their careers, Yeji's manager had said as Yeji struggled not to doze off next to him, her cap slung low over her eyes. Five months and then they break up.

Yeonjun hadn't felt very excited back then, and he doesn't feel very excited right now.

"When will a statement be released?" Soobin asks, dragging Yeonjun with him, as he leans toward the driver's seat. "Are you going to confirm it?" 

"Well," Their manager sighs deeply, briefly looking back at them before his attention turns back to the road. Yeonjun feels bad; they were all instructed to not tell the rest of the members about any of this, to keep an air of credibility that simply shaved years off Yeonjun's life. Lying was hard, and it didn't feel any less easier to do it to people whom he trusted with his life. "They are drafting something up right now, as far as I know. I think they will confirm but I can't be sure. Jang-daepyonim is always weird about this kind of stuff." 

He was. 

Silence reigns once again, exhaustion sitting heavy in his bones. He picks at the skin around his nails, distractedly sucking at the beads of blood. It stings, he thinks, but not as much as this. Not as much as the air of faux serenity around Beomgyu, sat alone in the back of the van, headphones plugged in as he scrolled on his phone. Not as much as the way he had refused to gaze upon Yeonjun even once. Not as much as the lack of response as their staff had patted Yeonjun on the back, whistling and hooting, and the rest of the members had given him blessings, that made his heart heavy with guilt.

৻ꪆ

Weeks melt quickly, like the ice in the coffee he had forgotten, mind busied with rhymes and lyrics that simply wouldn't stick. Their comeback comes and goes, over in the blink of an eye, its only remnants the irritated back pains that wake him up every single morning with a startle like clockwork, and the stack of gifts from fans he never has the time to sort through. 

His solo release is soon. 

Mere a month away, and with each day on his calendar that he crosses over with a red marker and a shaky hand, pressure begins to thaw faster and faster. 

He blinks away the swimming shapes in his eyes tiredly, red and bloodshot as the bright monitor shines brightly in the darkness of the room. 

Sometimes, he daydreams, amidst the drums and the bass that don't feel quite right and the guitars that sound too high, too whiny to his ears. Yeonjun loves his job, and if were to be reborn, he would do it all over again and again, but sometimes he daydreams about another world. A world without an astonishing total of four hours of sleep per week making his body sluggish, without the hustle and the bustle, without the buzzing of his phone that he has been making a habit of ignoring. 

A world where his heart could be a bit more honest with itself. 

He cuts off that throat with a curse, taking off his glasses and shoving them somewhere on his messy desk, between the four empty cups of iced americano and the takeout he had ordered for dinner seven hours ago.

"Fuck," He chances a glance a toward the clock on his phone, swiping away the piled notifications of messages he refuses to sort through. "It's seven a.m." 

Still, his eyes betray him, his finger too slow at deleting the notifications. Kai asked if he wanted to eat dinner together with them all, nine hours ago. Taehyun wants for them to go the gym together at eight, letting him know kindly he will drag out of that dark hole he had holed himself in that he dares call his studio, and then force him to go to sleep right after.

Nothing from Beomgyu. Not a single word, not a single peep in the past two months, not a single answer to him in the group chat, as if their group had magically lost a member overnight and his mind erased anything that had to do with Yeonjun. Nothing. 

A knock on the door shakes him out of his thoughts. 

He clears his throat, fumbling to smooth down the messy strands of hair sticking out from hours of running his fingers through it in exasperation. "Come in!"

"I knew I would find you here," Manager Junyoung smiles at him, before wrinkling his nose. "What are you doing brooding in the dark like some wannabe Nosferatu? Are the twenty different coffee cups here your poor virgin victims?" 

"Ha ha," Yeonjun deadpans, squinting blearily as the lights are turned on. "Anything the matter?" 

"No." Junyoung searches for a place to sit on the couch before changing his mind with an apparent shiver. "Well, yes, actually. Management wants you to go on a date with Yeji today again." 

"Fuck, again?" Yeonjun slumps against his chain with a groan. "How many more dates before they make us have a public wedding in the middle of Apgujeong?" 

"Do not speak it into existence, unless you want it to happen," Junyoung says, deadly serious, before a smile rises again. "C'mon, it won't be that bad. You are just going to get some coffee and pastries, and pretend to be in love while you talk about Pokemon or whatever it is you two have in common. I'm sure Yeji isn't too thrilled about it either." 

Yeonjun kisses his teeth before clicking his tongue. "Alright. When?" 

"Before your live with Beomgyu." Junyoung stretches, his closed eyes not seeing the way Yeonjun pales. "You didn't forget about that, did you?" 

"No, I-I didn't forget, I..." Yeonjun laughs, trying to stifle down his boiling anxiety. 

He had forgotten about that, truly. It was something they had begged and begged and begged management to approve, because duo lives when it came to the two of them were somehow more fickle than others, needing at least five stamps of approval from eight different people.

That had been four months ago, before Yeonjun decided to get a fake girlfriend for the camera, in hopes of generating numbers on social edia he didn't care for. Before Beomgyu decided that the way for him to get over Yeonjun was to pretend he didn't exist. 

"Okay, I have to go, I have a meeting regarding your solo schedules your next week." Junyoung pats him on the shoulder with a knowing gaze. "Now, can you get rid of all of the trash? It's unbecoming for a taken man as yourself." 

Junyoung cackles as he shuts the door behind him, Yeonjun's middle finger hanging limply in the air. 

৻ꪆ

The carrot cake looks cute, with carrots made out of sugar decorating it, but it tastes acrid, sour and too sweet, not enough carrot and too much ash that melts on his tongue. 

Yeji makes a face, her eyebrows pinched together. "That tasted... awful." She pushes their shared plate away with a grimace, and reaches for her drink with a shudder. 

"Yeah..." He eyes her hands; her nails are long, in shades of pink and white, with cutesy characters on them. He looks around, eyes glazing over as they catch sight of a man armed with a camera big enough to put a fansite to shame, sat in the bushes right outside of their window. He clears his throat, averting his gaze.  "I like your nails. What characters are those?" 

"Chiikawa and Hachiware." Yeji leans against the table, her hand supporting her head. "Say, are you gay?" 

"What?" He chokes, the coffee in his mouth going inside of the wrong tube. He bangs on his chest as he coughs, reaching for a tissue. "Fuck, I think it went out of my nose. Where did that even come from?" 

"It did." Yeji chortles, then raises an eyebrow, curious. "No straight man would ever complement my nails. So..."

"So what?" 

"Do you like men?"

A series of flashes blinds him, coming from his right. He glares as he makes eye contact with the photographer. The man waves, a huge smile twisting his face. 'I am a fan' he mouths. 

His temples throb in pain. A hiss escapes his mouth as he looks around to make sure the bored barista at the counter hadn't heard anything. The managers had, it seems, sat at a few tables, their snickers barely hidden beneath their hands.

Junyoung guffaws loud enough for them to hear, pumping his fist in the air. "Go tiger!"

"What do they even think we are talking about?" Yeji shakes her head before pressing once again, an excited sparkle in her eyes. "Have you ever had a boyfriend?"

"Can you be ever louder?" He splutters, at a loss for words. "Enough for the man trying to take pictures of your good angles to have something to write an article about."

Yeji waves him, her eyes rolling. "Sorry. Can't a girl be curious anymore?" 

"...No?" 

Yeji huffs, clearly not taking him seriously. "C'mon, it's so — so boring, and you aren't even giving me anything, other than small facts I don't care about, like how you watched Wreck It Ralph eight times last week."

"What, you want us to actually get to know each other? We are boyfriend and girlfriend only for the cameras, don't you remember?" He is being rude, and he is aware of it, but he can't help the ugly monster itching its way out. His phone feels heavy in the pocket of his jeans, but he doesn't reach to check the time again; he already knows: his and Beomgyu's live is in two hours, and no time left in this world would help him prepare for it.

"Of course not! I just thought we could be at least on friendly terms." Yeji crosses her arms, arching her neck just so, perfectly in time for the flashing camera to take a pretty picture. Yeonjun can already imagine the headlines. 

Breaking: Trouble in paradise after just a few months? 

"Okay, I get it, I am sorry—" He pauses, then sighs heavily, surrendering. "Yes, I like men, yes, I have kissed many men before, and no, I haven't been in a relationship yet."

"Many? So you have been around, huh?" Yeji chuckles, wriggling her eyebrows. "Really? Not even a fling?" 

Many. Too many. Older, younger, actors, other idols, dancers, completely normal people who had no idea what a metronome was or how to learn choreography through marking. Some lasted a mere night, the few hours he needed to blow off some steam, some lasted weeks and dates that went nowhere because his heart was always tucked safely underneath his ribcage and the muscles on his chest. 

Too safely.

He settles for an easy answer, that doesn't give away too much for a fake date at a pretentious cafe with awful cakes. "A few. But not really, something serious or long-term. You?"

"I've dated around," Yeji nods, pursing her lips. "I broke up with my girlfriend a few months ago." 

Girlfriend? Yeonjun stammers, "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"It's okay, it was a mutual decision," Yeji sighs. "She said I'm too busy for her." 

He frowns with sympathy. It's a common excuse, but it's their reality. Yeonjun would know it very well. If he were to sit and try to remember when the last time he had gotten more than two days off in a row, he would be sitting there all evening, counting on his fingers like an idiot.

Yeji perks up, clapping as if to snap him out of whatever hole he had fallen into. "Let's move on to a more fun topic. Do you have a type?' 

"Well..."He hums, a finger on his chin as he tries to think. "Somebody bright and positive? But also very wise."

"And appearance-wise?' Yeji motions vaguely, invested.

"Dark hair and big eyes," His throat suddenly feels parched; he reaches for his coffee with a cough. "Tall, slender." 

"...This sounds oddly specific." It does, doesn't it? He shifts on his chair, uncomfortable. "Are you sure you don't have anybody in mind?" 

"I—" His phone vibrates loudly, startling both of them. His heart drops as he unlocks his phone. "I am not sure." 

beoms

hyung let's postpone the live for tomorrow

i have other plans for tonight

Sent 17:07.

৻ꪆ

Soobin and Kai are waiting for him when he arrives back at the dorms. 

"Hey," He says, kicking off his shoes. He sniffles, letting his jacket fall messily on a chair. "It smells nice. Is Taehyun cooking?" 

Dinner time had come and gone by the time his pseudo date with Yeji had ended. His stomach churns, but he is in no hurry to move as Kai lies on him without an invitation, warm and smelling of sweets. 

"I am making galbijjim and steak," Taehyun calls out, distant. "But there's none for you." 

"So you hate me, is what you are saying?" Yeonjun chuckles, kicking his feet as Soobin leans down to take off his socks. "Yeah," Soobin deadpans as his fingers dig into the sensitive skin of Yeonjun's ankles, his nails leaving tingling crescents. "That's why Taehyunnie is making extra galbijjim for you." 

Setting the table is easy, even though his muscles protest and his feet drag as he walks. He hesitates, as his fingers reach for a fifth plate. "Is it only us tonight?" 

Taehyun sets down a steaming hot pot of galbijjim and steak on the table, eyeing the clock on the wall with a hum. "Beomgyu-hyung said he might join us, but I'm not too sure." 

"Arlight." Yeonjun nods, leaving an extra plate with utensils next to his own just in case. The chair squeaks loudly, scrapping against the wooden floor, as he sits down with a tired sigh. "What did he say his plans were again? He didn't tell me." 

Soobin pauses, his chopsticks halfway into his mouth. He raises an eyebrow. "He didn't?" He takes a bite of rice, averting his eyes as he chews. "He should probably tell you yourself then." 

Yeonjun stuffs his mouth as much as he can, cheeks bulging, lest he say he doubts Beomgyu would tell him anything that wasn't in front of a camera. 

The doorbell rings when Yeonjun is halfway through his plate. 

"That must be him." Kai frowns, standing up. "Did he forget his keys?" 

 Yeonjun takes out his phone, in pretense of checking his schedule for tomorrow. "We have tomorrow entirely free somehow." 

"The gods must have smiled down at us." Soobin chuckles, pilling more meat on Taehyun's plate. "We are going to Lotte World tomorrow."

"Without me?" 

"I doubt we'd be able to pull you away from the studio for an entire day, hyung." Taehyun pours a glass of soda, slurping the foam threatening to spill over. "I thought you might appreciate sleeping in and not waking up with us at the crack of dawn." 

He smiles, grateful; he hadn't done that in months, always too busy to let himself witness the clock hit ten in the morning on a Saturday.

"Hi, Beomgyu-hyung, did you have a good time—" Kai's voice cuts through, muted, colored with surprise. "Oh, hello!"

"Would it be a problem for him to stay for dinner?" 

Him? Confused, he turns around on his chair. 

"Guys, I want you to meet someone." Beomgyu steps into their dining area, a bashful smile on his face. There is a man following close behind him, his hands woven with Beomgyu's own. "This is Changmin. We have been talking for quite a while now!"

Changmin is a nice person, Yeonjun would normally think, if he didn't annoy him with every single word that he speaks, with every single time he touches Beomgyu without any shamee. Soobin shoves a piece of pickled radish in his mouth the moment Changmin's hand disappears under the table for a brief moment, and Beomgyu barely manages to conceal a wince. 

He sees it all, unfortunately. Because Beomgyu had decided to sit his new boyfriend on the seat next to Yeonjun instead of himself, and instead got an extra chair, like he was a guest in his own home. 

Yeonjun chews angrily, feeling like a mockery of a man lives in him, a wolf adorned with a lamb's skin as he watches Changmin squeeze Beomgyu's upper thigh, too high up for Yeonjun's comfort.

"Alright!' Taehyun cuts through the heavy silence, sharing a silent conversation with Soobin that Yeonjun is too irritated to read. "We might need to cut dinner short, we have this thing—"

"Yeah!" Kai says, too monotone to sell the lie. "We were going to the movies and we are actually a bit late already, so we need to go already." They were going to probably stay over at the other dorm, that was obvious enough.

"But we haven't finished eating yet?" Changmin asks, tilting his head in the way that makes Yeonjun wish to claw his eyes out. 

Soobin waves as he stands up, "We can give you some leftovers—"

"You can starve for all I care." Yeonjun chuckles, lazily scrolling on his phone. 

Beomgyu gasps, finally addressing him after months of silence. "Hyung! Why would you say that?" 

"Okay," Soobin stares at him, a smile threatening to break out. Beomgyu may not find it funny, but their members have his back at least. "That's our cue to go. Good night, Changmin. It was good to meet you."

৻ꪆ

The door slams behind them, the walls shaking with Yeonjun's fury. 

Changmin had left, together with everyone else, with a pinched face and a grimace whenever his and Yeonjun's eyes met. Beomgyu had followed him to his room, with words that Yeonjun wouldn't normally classify as kind or loving.

Beomgyu turns around so fast he must have gotten whiplash, a nasty snarl curling on his lips. "What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?" Yeonjun splutters, hands tearing at his hair. "What's wrong with you? Why would you bring... him here—"

"Changmin, you mean? A person just like you and me that has a name?" Beomgyu shakes his head, his feet leaving a path in Yeonjun's carpet as he paces. He is wearing one of Yeonjun's shirts, he realizes. A ratty, warm thing, with holes and rips that Yeonjun had cut in it with blunt kitchen scissors in the name of fashion, disappeared from Yeonjun's wardrobe years ago. "I don't understand why all of you were so mean to him! What has he done to you?" 

Not much, but sitting next to Yeonjun at the dinner table as he tried to fondle Beomgyu, knowing he would be dead if Yeonjun's glare had grown any heavier, was a crime in itself. Instead of the words born from the dark, green eyed in him withering away, something clumsy tumbles out of his mouth, in almost child-like wonder. "Is that my shirt?" 

Beomgyu frowns, following Yeonjun's gaze as he looks down. "Yes?" 

"Why are you wearing my shirt?"

Lips shaking, Beomgyu tilts his head. "Why are you worried about that right now?" 

"I just..." Yeonjun crosses his arms, out of breath. "I just don't understand why!" 

Beomgyu huffs, anger reddening his cheeks. "Fine!" He throws his hands up, before reaching for the ends of the shirt as he pulls it over his head with a frustrated sound. Leaving himself naked in the chill of Yeonjun's room, he bunches the fabric in his hands, pushing it with a shove toward Yeonjun's chest. "Here, take it—" 

"Beomgyu," Eyes half-lidded, Yeonjun hisses out, letting the simmering feelings under his skin come to the surface as he glowers. His grip tightens around the shirt, fingers tangling into the holes. "Why did you wear my shirt to a date with another man?" 

He looked good, Yeonjun will admit, his influence on Beomgyu's fashion taste showing through in the baggy pants resting on his lower hips and Yeonjun's tight shirt on his muscled arms. Still, his stomach flips, that had been for Changmin's eyes. 

Not his. 

Beomgyu clamps his mouth shut, an unreadable glint in his eyes. Yeonjun's hand closes around his bicep as he tries to take a step back. Beomgyu shakes his head, "You... You aren't going to do this to me, hyung, no." 

"Do what?" His tongue darts out as he licks his lips, gaze falling onto Beomgyu's heaving chest, naked and pale in the darkness. It must be midnight already, the moon their only source of light. 

Wetly, Beomgyu sniffles, trying to shake off his grip. "What does that matter to you?" 

"Why wouldn't it?" Yeonjun scoffs, taking a step forward as well, their breaths mingling together. "His hands were playing with the rips in my shirt, wasn't he?"

"The shirt is warm and I like it—" 

"It's not warm at all, it's very thin." One step back, as Yeonjun takes a step forward. Soon enough, Beomgyu's knees hit the edge of Yeonjun's unmade bed, feet stepping over the sheets on the floor. "And it's summer, I doubt you need to warm yourself much."

There is no other place to run, unless Beomgyu made the unwise decision of lying on Yeonjun's bed. 

They are so close to each other, close enough for Yeonjun to feel the warmth of Beomgyu's breath on his face, to feel as Beomgyu gulps their shared air greedily, to see clearly as Beomgyu's pupils shake, dilated far enough to swallow the brown of his eyes, leaving only darkness in his eyes. 

The silence stretches, as the tendrils of tension wrap around their throats. His eyelashes fluttering as they stare at each other unblinking, Beomgyu whispers. "Why are you doing this? What about Yeji?" 

Yeonjun breathes out, slowly. "She doesn't matter." 

"How can you say that? Aren't you two together?" 

"No, we are not." The admission comes easily to him, as easily as the way his hand comes to cup Beomgyu's face, thumb tracing over the puffy eyebags underneath Beomgyu's tear-filled eyes. "The others know too, without me needing to tell them. I thought you'd know too." 

If he weren't so busy avoiding Yeonjun like the plague, maybe, on a useless quest to find love somewhere outside of their carefully crafted cocoon. It had been easy enough for the rest to figure it out too, with how well-timed into his schedule his dates with Yeji had been, the pictures released in the press too candid, too planned out. He hadn't needed to say a single thing, really.

Yeonjun had been a fool, an idiot with wool and cotton covering his eyes for far too many years. He doesn't want to waste any more time. 

"What about Changmin?" Bitterness sneaks its way into the frown between his eyebrows. 

"He was..." Beomgyu averts his gaze, as if guilty. "He was a means to an end. Nothing more."

Yeonjun understands it. A way for Beomgyu to get over him, a person the complete opposite of him — with Changmin's wide eyes, tall stature with muscles no protein shakes would ever help Yeonjun achieve, with his bright hair and thin lips. A person to replace him.

Eyes fluttering shut, Beomgyu mouths weakly. "You don't even return my feelings, hyung." 

"Are you sure?" Yeonjun says quietly, lips ghosting over supple cheeks, hot and flushed under him. 

"It would be unfair," A shaky breath leaves Beomgyu's chest as Yeonjun traces over the shape of his lips with his thumb. "For you to decide to start liking me now."

Their bodies are pressed tightly together, chest to chest. His heart hammers wildly, threatening to rip his ribcage apart and leap into Beomgyu's awaiting arms. Beomgyu bunches the fabric of Yeonjun's shirt, knuckles white. 

Yeonjun gulps. 

Hunger simmers, growling like a beast, talons clawing inside of his fluttering stomach, full of tireless butterflies.

"That would be very unfair of hyung, hm?"

It's like a devastating car crash, with him in the driver's seat as he watches with morbid curiousity glass shatter into million pieces in front of his eyes, when they finally kiss. 

Beomgyu trembles as a hand snakes around his torso, bringing them impossibly close. His lips are soft, Yeonjun thinks to himself, half-crazed, half-man, warm and sweet, sweeter than the sweets he can still taste on Beomgyu's tongue. 

He swallows down a moan when his tongue maps out the warmth of Beomgyu's mouth and a small whimper answers him, pouring gasoline into the fire bubbling on his skin. 

"Take it off," Beomgyu gasps as their kiss breaks, and Yeonjun moves to press a litany of small, fluttering kisses across his lips, his cheeks, his nose, his eyes, in a trail of fire. Beomgyu whines, frantic as his fingers trace the muscles on Yeonjun's abdomen underneath his shirt. "Off, off, please—" 

"Alright, alright," He laughs, bright, heart dancing, lighter than it had been in months. Letting his shirt fall on the ground forgotten, he shivers as the air hits his bare skin. He flushes, high up on his cheekbones as eyes rake over his chest, leering, darkening as they fall onto Yeonjun's abs. His hands twitch, wishing to cover himself. 

"This is nothing you haven't seen before." He finds himself saying, a weird squeaky quality to his voice trembling across the vowels.

Reaching out hesitantly, warm fingers press against the muscles of his chest. "No." Beomgyu licks his lips, cherry red and swollen, from Yeonjun's own tongue and teeth. "Not like this." 

They had seen each other naked countless times before. Back when the five of them shared one small room, back when they were bright-eyed trainees, stumbling for warmth as they huddled together in bedrooms without heating, back when they needed to shower together in between schedules and practices and performances. But this... This is new.

The sight of Beomgyu's bare skin isn't anything he hasn't seen before, like the two small moles on his chest, or the small scars on his lower abdomen from when he had crashed into a pole with a scooter when he was but a toddler.

And yet, Yeonjun still finds himself gulping dryly, his tongue too big, his teeth too sharp for his mouth as saliva pools. 

Shuddering in tandem as their clothed erections press against each other briefly, however, is entirely foreign. Goosebumps rise on his skin as Beomgyu sighs quietly, arching his back, a tent forming in his pants. 

He hesitates for a brief second, throwing a glance toward the door he had thankfully had the mind to lock. "Soobin said he was going to bring the maknaes to your guys' dorm." 

Smirking slightly, Beomgyu's eyes glint. "That's good."

"I don't think I can hold back."

Beomgyu snarls, ethereal under the moonlight in his debauched state, hair mussed and eyes blazing. "I don't want you to." 

Yeonjun would have liked to take his time, to savor each inhale and exhale, to breathe in the cloyingly sweet, flowery scent of Beomgyu's perfume lingering still in the strands of his hands, to trace his hands over each dip and curve and the jutting of his hip bones, but all of his plans are trampled over as they stumble into his bed in a mess of limbs and skin and kisses that make his knees shake. 

"I hate your belts." Beomgyu pants, arching his neck as he lets Yeonjun kiss and suck to his heart's content, leaving marks in his wake that he hopes won't ever heal.  Metal clinks as fingers try to unclasp his belt, frantic. "All of them."

"I like them." Yeonjun murmurs, unable to help himself as he pinches a perky nipple, making Beomgyu shudder. "You don't like my fashion taste?"

Beomgyu huffs, an impatient little thing trembling in his arms, as the belt finally comes undone. "No, not right now." 

"Well, I like your jeans." His fingers untie the button of Beomgyu's pants in jens, before his hands greedily push the waistband down. "Baggy, stylish... Easy to access."

His vision swims as his hand wraps around a weeping cockhead, and Beomgyu winces sharply. 

"Even easier access if you were to take them off," Beomgyu quips sharply, his teeth imbued into the meat of his lower lip. Driven by hunger alone, Yeonjun spits in his hand and returns to his task, fingers wrapping Beomgyu's cock.

"I like you like this, too," Yeonjun says, leering, his free hand squeezing the flesh of Beomgyu's waist. Chest heaving, Beomgyu throws his head back, a gasp forming on his lips as Yeonjun drags the tips of his nails along the shape of a throbbing vein, precum wetting his palm. "Under me like that." 

A knee sneaks between his legs, pressing roughly against his groin. He sucks in a breath tightly, a giggle echoing in his ears as Beomgyu beams. Beomgyu thumbs at the waistband of his underwear, a loud snap as he releases it. "You'd like me better without this on, no?"

His growl is quieter than the sound of the bed squeaking as he hurriedly undresses them both fully, leaving all of Beomgyu for his eyes to see. 

Their lips meet again, more tongue and teeth than a kiss, spit spilling out of their mouths in a trail on their chins. Yeonjun takes their cocks in his hand, nostrils flaring as he pumps once, the metal of the rings on his fingers cold as ice.

"Hyung, do you have—"

"I do, hold on." 

His nightstand shakes as he forces the second shelf out, rough enough to make him worry he would break it. He digs through piles of trinkets, of jewelry he hadn't seen in months, of multiple chapsticks he never uses, before he finds a half-empty bottle of lube, hidden carefully underneath.

Beomgyu pauses before snickering. "Strawberry?" 

He struggles with the cap for a moment too long before ripping it off, lube spilling over his fingers. "Why, isn't that your favorite fruit?" It's startlingly cold against his fingers as he spills more onto his palms, so he warms it up, rubbing his fingers together. 

Beomgyu opens his legs wider as he settles comfortably between them, and his heart soars, a smile stretching out his lips. 

Gently, Beomgyu takes his hand, bringing it closer to his face, before he takes a finger into his mouth. His lips form an 'o' as he sucks, slowly, eyes half-lidded as he stares up at Yeonjun. Voice rough, he releases it with a pop, saliva glinting with a sheen on his lips. "I don't think I mind the taste."

Something breaks in him, Yeonjun doesn't know what. Maybe the control that had already been slipping through his fingers like fine sand, or his head, from the way all of his blood rushes to his dick. The only thing he knows, the only thing that may haunt his dreams for years to come, is the small sound that leaves Beomgyu's mouth as he carefully pushes his pointer finger inside of him. 

"Good?" He swallows; he can feel himself drooling as he watches Beomgyu's stomach cave in, the tremble in his jaw as he struggles to stifle a moan.

"Good, it's good." Beomgyu gasps when his fingers curls slightly as he starts to slowly thrust it. "More." 

For a moment, it's silent, the only sound in his ears the squirt of the lube bottle as he pours more and more, and the hammering of his heart in his ears, blindingly loud. It's easy enough to learn Beomgyu's quirks, to learn what he likes without being told. To let his instincts guide him when Beomgyu grows impossibly harder when his fingers press against a swollen bundle of nerves, to watch the trepidation of his chest when Yeonjun carefully eases in a second and a third finger. 

"I'm ready, hyung." Beomgyu whines, almost pitifully, the pout on his lips barely hidden by the hand thrown over his eyes. "Please."

He's too tempting, Yeonjun decides.

Gently, his hands wrap around strong thighs, pale and deliciously bulging with muscle, bringing them up. 

Beomgyu flushes as he is spread out entirely, like a feast to be had and devoured. "What are you..."

Yeonjun flashes a smile, teeth sharp. "You'll see." 

Beomgyu tastes sweet. Of the weird plastic-y artificial sweetness of the lube, but also of musk, of the sweetness that his scent bathes in every day, that lingers in the juncture of his neck. He tastes delicious, Yeonjun thinks with hunger gnawing the corners of his jumbled-up thoughts, as he flattens his tongue and licks a wet stripe from his taint to his hole. 

He is even sweeter inside, muscles convulsing around his tongue as he forcibly shoves it inside, more of that musk and that scent that makes his head spin and his cock grow harder, weeping for attention where it's pressed between his stomach and his pristine white sheets. 

Beomgyu squeaks, high in his chest, wailing as Yeonjun sneaks in two fingers, stretching his quivering hole around his tongue. He slurps greedily, ravenous, as he starts pumping his fingers in earnest.

"Stop, I'll cum like this—" Beomgyu breathes out harshly, thrashing against his hold, but Yeonjun simply huffs, letting his head be pillowed by two strong pale thighs. 

It doesn't take long for the dam to break.

His entire body shakes as cum shoots out in ropes from his cock, loud groans and pleas escaping Beomgyu's lips. Yeonjun grins in content; their members can only thank themselves for deciding to vacate the dorms. He has never felt less guilty about sexiling as now, with Beomgyu twitching in the aftershocks of his orgasm under him. 

"You good?" He snickers, turning to rummage in the nightstand once again. "Fuck, where is it?" He had just bought a brand new box of condoms, with the empty hope of filling the hole that Beomgyu had left in him during their cold war. He can admit that to himself now, at least. 

"No." He stills in worry. Beomgyu leers at him, frowning, looking nothing short of a princess as he sulks, hair spread on Yeonjun's pillow. "No condoms, I want to feel you."

His soul escapes his body for a moment, ready for the afterlife to take him back as it sees fit. "Alright." The voice coming out of his mouth is entirely foreign, with a timbre and a rasp Yeonjun has never heard from himself, bordering on a hapless groan. 

He is shaking with nerves as his cock kisses Beomgyu's hole, smearing precum over the lubed pucker. 

"Come here," Beomgyu says, soft, so soft, as his arms reach for him. 

They slot together like two pieces of a puzzle, his heart thinks, Beomgyu nestled in his arms, their lips and hands woven together, as his cock slowly breaches him. 

Yeonjun shushes him when Beomgyu shudders in pain, mouth pinched together. "I have you."

"I know you do." Beomgyu kisses, deeper and sweeter than they had tonight. 

Slow as a snail, careful as a person cradling the very moon and stars in his hands, they find a rhythm that matches the heartbeat echoing in his ears. 

"More," Beomgyu whimpers, demanding, nails leaving marks on Yeonjun's back. "More."

Yeonjun obeys, wordless. 

The bed squeaks in protest, headboard slamming against the wall, as he draws his hips back again and again, faster and rougher with each thrust, wet sounds making his skin tingle every time he bottoms out. 

Lube drips down Beomgyu's thighs as their moans bounce off the walls. 

"I'm close," Beomgyu's mouth hangs wide open, saliva moist on his lips as he reaches for his hand, stroking it in the rhythm of Yeonjun's hips. 

Yeonjun snarls and brings his hips higher and higher, until they reach Beomgyu's head, until Beomgyu is spread thin, entirely his for the taking, until his cock can slam against Beomgyu's prostate with each thrust. 

He grinds down, electricity travelling up his spine. "Me too." 

When he finally cums, it's with his tongue inside of Beomgyu's mouth, his hands leaving bruises on the pale, unmarked skin of the thighs bracketing his head, with his cock deep inside of a pulsing hole, warm and wet and most welcoming. 

"It's warm." Beomgyu pants, whining as cum dribbles out, dirtying the sheets underneath them. 

"Mine," Yeonjun says, crazed with lust and love, sweat dripping down his face. "You are mine." 

"Hyung, I..." Beomgyu stops, hesitating. 

His heart drops. 

"I love you." 

He can't help the laugh bubbling out of his chest, shoulders shaking as a giddy smile blooms. "I love you too." 

Beomgyu pecks one, then twice, sweet, unable to pull away. "I used Changmin to get over you."

"Did it work?" Yeonjun brushes away the matter strands on Beomgyu's forehead, cheeks hurting from how hard he's smiling. 

"No." 

His head drops as he sighs, dropping into the space nestled in Beomgyu's neck. “Yeji and I aren't dating. Shin-sajangnim and Jang-daepyonim thought it might generate buzz." 

"So..." Eyes fluttering, a lone finger travels across his face. "You are saying that there is no girlfriend stopping you from a second round?" 

Yeonjun grins. "No girlfriend stopped me from the first round either." 

৻ꪆ

He feels like nothing less of a zombie, a bag of flesh and bones and blood, as he sits there and pretends to read the comments on his phone, too fast for his tired eyes to comprehend. 

Beomgyu is faring much worse, at least, twisting and turning, unable to sit down properly. "Why are you guys so tired today?" He reads out loud. Yeonjun hides a smirk beneath his hand; he sounds hoarse, like he has gone through hours and hours of screaming. Beomgyu laughs nervously. "Ah, is it that obvious? We just had a full day of schedules, that's why."

"We were hoping it wouldn't be as obvious." Yeonjun giggles; his pretense at acting bashful is utter trash, he won’t ever achieve his distant dreams of winning the Baeksang. 

They remain silent for a moment, reading through the comments, but he keeps getting distracted, much to his chagrin. However, he only has himself to blame; he can't fault Beomgyu for his hands being so soft and warm, so easy for Yeonjun to take in on his own, to trace over the ridges of his knuckles with his thumb. 

A certain comment catches both of their eyes, before another one and another one, flooding the entire chat. 

"Why are you guys holding hands under the table?" Yeonjun reads out loud. He shakes his head, a snicker itching its way out of his throat, squeezing Beomgyu's hand harder. "We aren't, you guys are just seeing things that don't exist."