Chapter 1: small town boy
Chapter Text
The sun is ready to set. Its beams are illuminating the naked trees in a soft orange hue. Soobin stands in front of Bean Fairy - a café he so frequently visited back when he lived here. The cool spring breeze borders on unpleasant yet the space inside looks warm and inviting. He enters, a small smile playing on his lips.
It is just how he remembered it. Light cracking through the windows, exposing the dust-filled air. Dark wood beams add very little to the attempt to modernise the café with some white plastic chairs. Soobin’s nose is hit with a scent that takes him back years ago - dark chocolate cake with a hint of pre-ground coffee. There is one other older couple sitting by the table in the far back. They sit there and chatter quietly in the dimly lit corner, the sun not quite reaching as far in the room. He quickly scans the place, then stumbles to the nearby table, wincing as the plastic chair screeches loudly against the tile floor as he takes a seat.
It is crazy how little has changed over the course of five years. Soobin swears he recognises some faces that are walking past his beloved café. Sure he knew his hometown is small, but having spent years in Seoul, this place just feels tiny. Even the creak of the old doors has a similar ring. Some things are just bound to stay the same, he thinks.
He lifts his gaze towards the bar only to see someone he immediately recognises. There, walking towards him in a lazy manner is Choi Yeonjun.
In a second Soobin’s mind is flooded with an overwhelming amount of memories. Like a scene in a movie he watches in slow motion how Yeonjun approaches his table, a ridiculously long apron around his waist, faded pink hair pushed back messily, wearing white button-up that has been washed one too many times.
Just as in Soobin’s memory Yeonjun emits such effortless confidence. It’s still so powerful, still so beautiful. It’s the same kid that Soobin shared secrets with, scavenged his dad’s attic with and built forts with. The same kid with whom he watched The Breakfast Club for the hundredth time and with whom he debated which character is the worst afterwards. The same kid he made a pinky promise with that they would never become boring adults that just work and forget about each other.
The kid that was his best friend. It’s like all of those memories of warmth and innocent carelessness are shaped in a form of a person - a person that is right there in front of him but still out of reach. He is the same but different.
Soobin notices how hollow Yeonjun’s cheeks have gotten, his weight loss evident on his neck and sharp collarbones that peek out of the dress shirt. He looks taller and his features are more sharp, more grown up.
“Is there anything I can get for you?”
Yeonjun’s familiar voice snaps him out of his haze and he shoots his eyes up. Yeonjun is right there leaning over the table slightly as he speaks.
Is he a barista here?
“Yeonjun hyung,” he manages to utter.
For a brief moment Yeonjun makes eye contact with Soobin only to quickly drop his gaze somewhere in between the table and the floor. Soobin watches the older boy intently, mouth agape, still dumbfounded by Yeonjun’s presence. He notices Yeonjun’s ear has three piercings now instead of one that 13-year-old Yeonjun had asked 12-year-old Soobin to help him pierce with a needle. Yeonjun had wanted to be “cool and edgy” yet he hid his piercing from his parents for over a month until it got infected and he needed his mom’s help treating it. Later they laughed about this incident.
“That’s what it says on the name tag, yes,” Yeonjun says wearing an unreadable expression, pointing at the tag pinned on his shirt.
A moment passes in silence and the awkwardness builds.
Is he serious? Is he not aware that Soobin is there? Does he not recognise him?
These questions circle around his head, making him dizzy, but he snaps back to reality quick.
“O-one cappuccino please,” Soobin stutters after failing to figure out anything else to say. He doesn’t recognise his own voice.
“Coming right up,” the other boy mutters, turning around swiftly and pacing back to the kitchen.
Soobin watches his figure retreat with quick steps, his posture now not as upright as before. He can’t seem to think or move for a second, his mind still processing the odd encounter. Did Yeonjun not remember him? Had Soobin’s appearance changed that much? Sure he did enjoy changing up his hair quite often and he did get his money’s worth with his gym membership, but at least in his own eyes, he still looked like the same old Soobin.
A lump forms in his throat as his mind gets clouded with utter confusion.
What was that?
With Yeonjun’s back turned to Soobin, the boy spots what looks like a delicate callas flower tattoo on the back of Yeonjun’s neck. Another thing that is different about present-day Yeonjun. He wonders when did he get that tattoo, how many more he has, why did he get it, what is the story behind it. It’s a story about Yeonjun that Soobin doesn’t know. Wasn’t a part of. The lump in his throat tightens.
He zones out for what feels like quite a while until a cup of coffee is placed in front of him. Soobin’s eyes shoot up only to find that another waitress with a polite smile is serving him his drink instead of Soobin’s childhood friend. Soobin thanks her, fiddles with his silver rings and that’s when the smell of coffee hits him. The teenage Soobin glorified this coffee, called it “liquid gold” after his all-nighter movie marathons with Yeonjun.
The boys used to come here first thing in the morning, barely keeping their eyes open, ordering cappuccinos with extra packets of sugar since the bitter taste of unsweetened coffee made them pull faces in disgust. Now that he examines the beverage it has nothing more than the quality of a below average gas station coffee, the foam thick and stiff while the liquid underneath is extremely bitter. It amuses him how the Seoul coffee shop scene has spoiled him. He had grown to rely on a good quality coffee fix. His orders ranged from iced americanos to cherry blossom lattes. The first sip of fresh coffee tastes heavenly on a rough Monday morning, he just can’t deny it.
Soobin stares at the two packets of sugar laying next to his cup. Weird, he thinks. The café used to be quite stingy with sugar, Yeonjun and him had to always ask the barista for more. Two packets was exactly how much Soobin needed to add to his coffee in order to have his whole face spark up and caffeine buzzing through his system. Yeonjun knows this, he knows how Soobin used to take his coffee. Could it be-? Yeonjun must remember him then. But then why is he ignoring him? Or maybe Soobin is delusional, maybe he is reading too much into it, maybe the café changed their sugar policy, maybe, maybe-
In the corner of his eye he spots faded pink hair and snaps his head towards it. Yeonjun is behind the counter now wiping a particular spot on the surface in concentration. Soobin watches him, stares at him, as if his stare could uncover the secret behind this attitude, but Yeonjun just keeps wiping that spot for an unnecessary amount of time.
Suddenly he feels small. He sits there in his trench coat that he spent way too much money on and his silver rings and wonders when exactly did he leave behind this life and start a new one. When is this not that anymore and how did he end up worlds away from how everything used to be. Because blockbuster movies and debates until late hours was how it used to be. Secret handshakes and pinky promises was how it used to be. Blanket forts and salty popcorn was how it used to be. Yeonjun was how it used to be. Soobin feels foreign in his own home, in his own childhood home, in front of his own childhood best friend. He looks at the boy (the man) that he used to share the world with, that probably is a different planet now, in a different solar system. How did he manage to leave Yeonjun behind in his world?
It is too much, all of it is too much - the smells, the old environment, the memories, the feelings, Yeonjun. Soobin tries to swallow the lump in his throat, but he is too engulfed in his emotions, he is too overwhelmed and confused as to why he even feels this way in the first place. He fishes some cash out of his pocket, slams it on the table (that should cover it), grabs his scarf and sprints out of the musty café. The cool March air nips at his cheeks, he throws the scarf over his neck as tears begin swelling in his eyes, blurring his vision, threatening to fall over his cheeks.
Soobin heads in the direction of home, he knows every street and every corner like the back of his hand. Every alley and side street hold a handful of memories, he has every detail of his hometown memorised from years and years of roaming around it every day. Yet he feels like a stranger.
———
“I.. um… I miss you already. And you haven’t even left yet,” Yeonjun sniffles, not daring to hold a gaze. If he looked at him - really looked at him - he would break out in sobs.
“Come on, you know it’s not for long,” Soobin forces a smile just to make Yeonjun feel a little less gloomy. He himself was, in fact, very gloomy, but he couldn’t let that affect Yeonjun too much. “We’re stuck like glue, anyways.”
“Right,” mutters Yeonjun, finally looking up at Soobin. His nose is red from the cold, his eyes are deep and glossy and he’s wearing a pout. Soobin takes a mental picture of this boy right then and there, of the hope and care and something like grief reflected in those eyes and stores it somewhere in his brain so he could take it out and cherish it whenever he needed to be reminded of why he’s doing all of this.
———
Soobin tiredly takes off his rings one by one, placing them next to the bathroom sink. A drawn-out yawn escapes his lips as he feels drowsiness taking over his whole body. End of a long day. From his neatly organised toiletry bag he takes out his skincare products and sets them on the little glass shelf below the mirror. There appears to be too little space for his collection of products, so he pushes aside a tube of cream, the same tube Soobin swears he saw his mother use some five years ago. Doing his skincare routine immediately sends Soobin into relaxation, it signals his body that it is time to call it a day and get some well-deserved rest.
While he rubs his face with a mild rose-scented cleanser, Soobin is reminded of what Sunghoon said. You need to be more gentle with your hands, massage it, don’t scrub it, it’s your face, hyung. He almost chuckles at how he can’t seem to escape the younger’s never-ending instructions even when he is he miles away from him. Soobin can admit that he tends to be a little harsh with his movements - never missing a chance to punch someone’s arm at a failed joke or squish a friend's cheeks a tad too hard. But he does it out of love.
Dinner is ready in no time and his mother frantically calls out for Soobin to come quick to eat while it’s hot. He stays in his oversized white tee, strands of his hair now sticking out in different directions. Soobin’s mom always made a deal out of never allowing to sit at the table in pyjamas, therefore he is forced to stay in his clothes as he heads downstairs for dinner. In his own home Soobin wouldn’t care about how or where he eats, but mom’s house means mom’s rules.
A steaming bowl of kimchi jjigae is placed on the table. Soobin’s mom ruffles her son’s hair a bit, pushing the messy strands away from his face. She flashes a smile and says, “Eat up!”
Just like that Soobin is a little boy again, being fed by his mom who glances at him lovingly every once in a while. The stew tastes just like it did in his childhood, it’s filling and so yummy that his mother has to reprimand him to slow down. He remembers the stew tasting even better after a whole day of running around the block with Yeonjun.
Oh.
Yeonjun.
Soobin swallows the food thickly, growing uneasy for what he is about to mention next.
“I saw Yeonjun today.”
His mother only nods quietly and reaches for the bowl of rice. Soobin taps his leg impatiently, then sets down his chopsticks, his appetite gone.
“He works at Bean Fairy,” Soobin continues, eyeing his mom, trying to remain subtle about wanting more information about the boy. She could possibly know more than Soobin, it is quite a small town after all.
“I know. Such a lovely boy, ever so polite and kind. He does his job well,” she enthuses unaware of her son’s nervousness. “It’s a shame you two are no longer in contact.”
Soobin gulps. His stomach pools with guilt. But what is he to feel guilty for?
“It’s not like it was my fault. It just… happened,” Soobin drops his gaze, his lips forming a pout.
“Did I say it was?” she gives him a stern look, the one that questions her son’s sudden defensiveness.
With that the topic is changed to something lighter and they fall into an easy conversation while finishing the meal. Soobin is thankful that no matter how long he lives away from his mother, he never has trouble leading effortless communication with her. Be it about current hardships or the best flowers to plant in the garden.
Soobin is on dish washing duty tonight. He finishes up quickly, feeling more and more tired by every minute.
What used to be his bedroom is now part office, part storage space. There are boxes and tools and old books shoved to the sides of the small room. It should feel stuffy, but his mom made sure to air the room well before his arrival this morning. The fresh air hits his lungs as he relaxes. Soobin rolls out a thin mattress in the middle of the room.
The bedroom setup just looks pathetic and, of course, this sleeping arrangement can only be temporary. He knows this and yet he and his mom haven’t even begun discussing the reason why he is back here in his mom’s house. And where he would go from here.
His phone pings in his jean pocket. It’s a message from Sunghoon.
hoonie:
just finished with skating
my limbs refuse to work sighhh
what you up to, hyung?
about to go to bed
please don’t overwork yourself hoonie
hoonie:
ah you know how i am
how’s home?
well…
hoonie:
overwhelming?
you could say that
hoonie:
get some rest
that applies to you too mister!!!
no late night drama binging!!
hoonie:
haha caught me :3
goodnight hyungie
hoon?
hoonie:
yeah?
i miss you
hoonie:
i miss u 2
And with that thought, Soobin drifts to sleep.
Chapter 2: how many coffees will it take?
Notes:
hey babies!
enjoy the update! posting another one on thursday.
also, since this story is kind of my baby and my safe haven, i've been listening and drawing a lot of inspiration from so many songs, being emo in my feels and all that. :)
i compiled the songs in a spotify playlist. give it a listen if you wish, treat it as a soundtrack for this story <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Wednesday. Morning buzz is at it’s peak. People are impatiently sipping on their coffees before hurrying off to work or school or wherever. Only Soobin has all the time in the world. That’s why he finds himself in Bean Fairy during the early rush hour. And, yeah, well there are also other reasons why he is there.
The pink-haired boy is behind the counter, taking an order from a particularly grumpy customer. He turns his head once in a while to whisper something to his colleague - a girl that Soobin recognises served him coffee just a few days ago. They exchange quick smiles with each other before returning to tasks at hand. Soobin doesn’t know what to do with the way Yeonjun is smiling. It’s been so long. Too long.
He overcomes his shyness and walks up to the counter, clearing his throat. The moment Yeonjun’s eyes meet Soobin’s his smile drops. A few seconds pass like that with Soobin just staring into Yeonjun’s chocolate brown eyes. Soobin is hyperaware of the growing silence between them, hence he straightens his posture and trusts himself enough to speak.
“Can I get an iced americano?” he says with a polite smile. “No sugar, I take it straight now,” he adds, voice just above a whisper like it’s some kind of a secret only Yeonjun would now.
“Hmm, anything else?”
The way he replies so nonchalantly makes Soobin pout. He shakes his head.
A bit embarrassed Soobin retreats to take a seat at one of the empty tables. He can’t seem to figure out what hides behind Yeonjun’s reserved demeanour. Is it the fact that he doesn’t remember him or doesn’t want to remember him? Soobin hopes it’s the former since he feels a painful sting in his chest just thinking about the latter one. He would rather Yeonjun forget him than purposely choose to ignore him. Cause that would only cloud his already overwhelmed mind with questions he doesn’t know how to find answers to. Soobin ponders on how he himself could ever forget about his childhood best friend when he can still recall how Yeonjun’s eyes turn into crescents when he is amused and how his head falls back in a fit of contagious laughter after Soobin says something remotely funny. It all seems to come back to him when he looks at the pink-haired barista, the memories that have been neatly stored away suddenly flooding back in heaps and almost knocking him off his feet. He blinks twice in disbelief as he catches the other staring back at him. There is some kind of a question in his sharp eyes and Soobin can’t seem to decipher what it is.
So is this a game they’re playing?
Soobin is naturally good at games, there’s that sort of healthy competitiveness to his character. That is when he makes it his mission to get through to Yeonjun.
So around the same time the next day he is in Bean Fairy once again. This time he asks for plain black coffee. Yeonjun doesn’t even give him a second glance, moving on to prepare his order.
On the third day Yeonjun is not working and Soobin decides to drink coffee at home. It’s not like the coffee at Bean Fairy is in any way enjoyable. That’s not exactly why he goes there.
On the fourth day he finds the familiar pink hair serving customers again. With an unforeseen thrill running through his veins, he walks up to the older and orders a flat white.
“Never the same order, huh?” Yeonjun murmurs softy.
Soobin bites his lip resisting the urge to smile. Are they making conversation?
“I like to switch it up,” he says shyly. All the confidence from before gone out of the window.
Soobin likes to think of this as progress. It’s not much, but at least he said something other than the basic customer service phrases.
The flat white tastes bitter as hell and he tries not to wince visibly. But before he can finish it up and leave the warmth of the café, he hears a familiar voice.
“Soobin hyung?”
The question startles him and it takes him a second or two to recognise the speaker.
“Oh! Hi!”
To say that Kai has changed would be an understatement. The boy looks almost unrecognisable, his shoulders have gotten broad, his facial features more defined, his posture almost statuesque - he looks nothing like the timid boy who confessed his feelings to Soobin in high school.
Back then the two of them had to team up for a physics project. They worked well together, Kai following Soobin’s instructions and listening to his suggestions wholeheartedly. After receiving a well-deserved A, the younger started following Soobin around like a puppy. In all honesty, Soobin had a gut feeling that a confession from the other boy was to follow. He rummaged through his brain for all the possible ways to let the younger down easy. Soobin feared that no matter how he rejected him, the boy would be hurt and he never wanted to see the sweet and kind Kai aching.
“I didn’t expect to see you here!” Kai exclaims in genuine surprise “It’s been a while.”
Soobin notes how Kai talks and carries himself with more self-assurance. He is wearing a pistachio green hoodie that looks brand new.
After Soobin invites him to sit down and Kai happily accepts the offer, Soobin is taken over by the comforting presence of the younger.
“So hyung what brings you here?” Kai inquires.
“Grew tired of the city,” he lets out a nervous laugh.
It’s a lie. He wasn’t tired of Seoul. There was another reason why he returned to his hometown, but he thought it to be too embarrassing to discuss in small talk with a friend(?) he hasn’t seen for five years.
“What are you doing here?” Soobin tries to shift the focus to Kai.
“Oh, I’m just dropping these off for tomorrow,” he motions at the handful of leaflets in his hand. “They are about the band that’s playing at tomorrow’s party. You know, self-promotion stuff since they agreed to offer a gig for a discounted price.”
“There’s a party tomorrow?”
“Beomgyu hyung’s surprise birthday party, yes.” Kai beams, excitement evident on his face.
“Wait. Here at Bean Fairy?”
“Exactly! We’re good friends with the owner,” Kai winks.
“And you’re organising the whole thing? Live music and everything?” Soobin questions, suddenly curious about what goes on in this little town.
“Ah, well it’s mostly Taehyun, though,” he gives Soobin a knowing smile. “He insisted on getting a soft rock band since it’s the genre Beomgyu hyung likes the most. Seriously, he’s been turning into some kind of a party-zilla making sure everything is perfect. He’s gonna beat my ass if I don’t do the tasks that I’m assigned.”
Soobin lets out a breathy laugh. It is great to hear that Taehyun is in town too. Their communication has been very infrequent over the past years, but he will forever be grateful for how helpful and supportive Taehyun was during all of his school years.
And Beomgyu too, the hyperactive kid with whom Soobin never expected to discover his reflective side after the two of them had some surprisingly meaningful conversations in high school.
“You should come too! You can be my plus-one.”
Soobin visibly stiffens and raises his eyebrows. Kai chuckles at the older’s reaction.
“Not in a romantic way! Just so that your invitation is secured. You and Beomgyu were friends too, right?”
Were. Right. He is on a different planet now.
Soobin briefly weighs out his options. Going to the party means overcoming his socialisation barriers. Not going means spending another night home watching her mother’s old-school dramas, and he is already on his way to becoming a homebody as it is.
“I’d love to come.”
Kai shakes his hands in fists excitedly. Soobin can’t help but smile at him, his dimples showing. He glances again at the counter only to find Yeonjun already looking at the two. How long has he been watching their interaction?
Kai follows Soobin’s line of sight and when his eyes fixate on Yeonjun, he springs up from the chair, runs towards the older, swinging the hand of leaflets in the air. “Yeonjunie hyung, look what I got! It’s all settled and ready now.”
Soobin observes how the two converse, not being able to hear anymore what they are talking about. He watches how Yeonjun listens and replies to Kai, how he smiles and widens his eyes as he concentrates on what Kai is saying. He feels as though a seed of jealousy is planted in the pit of his stomach. He finds himself left outside, excluded from Yeonjun’s conversation, from his interactions, from his life. No one is to blame for that. Or maybe Soobin himself is to blame for that. They shared everything from clothes to secrets. They lived their days by each other’s side. They were each other’s safe place. They were one planet.
It’s petty and stupid but he can’t help the envy from bubbling in his gut when he looks at how Kai is let in. Let into Yeonjun’s world. While he sits light-years away.
———
Tomorrow rolls around faster than expected and Soobin is left with a difficult decision. The contents of his suitcase are scattered around on the floor.
What to wear?
Now, this is an important matter. Soobin got all the way to Seoul and he is proud of it. He has this inexplicable desire to showcase it, to have his image, his appearance reflect the big city lifestyle that he has adapted over the years. Living in Seoul has made him quite fond of fashion. The bustling streets overcrowded with stylish people are what fuelled him to find his own style. After multiple shopping trips together with Sunghoon, Soobin discovered that he feels himself the best in dressy clothing. Dressy, but not overly. He doesn’t shy away from brighter colours and patterns either.
Soobin lets out a huff in frustration. This shouldn’t be that important. But if he is successful in finding just the right outfit it will serve him as a mask of confidence. He’ll look important and pulled together, which will hide the fact that in reality he gets anxious in a bigger crowd.
But just how big of a crowd should he expect? Will Yeonjun be there? Will he be on duty since he works there? Surely not, he must take the evening off work for his friend’s birthday. Soobin takes a deep breath, calming his nerves.
He finally settles for an outfit - loose fit black pants, white turtle neck, a knitted vest and an oversized tweed coat. His outfit is accompanied by dainty silver jewellery and a vintage style Seiko (a gift from Sunghoon).
Upon a glance in the mirror, Soobin decides he is satisfied with the result. It is sophisticated but not too simple, it has layers.
Layering is key, Yeonjun had said.
Soobin is taken aback by the sudden memory intrusion. He shrugs it off before he can read too much into it. Kai must be waiting for him.
———
“Layering is key,” Yeonjun explains.
The 15-year-old boy closely examines his work on Soobin who stands in front of him dressed in his uncle's old Hawaiian shirt topped with a dusty, practically ancient, leather bomber jacket - all items handpicked by Yeonjun.
Soobin holds back his laughter, in his eyes this combo looks absolutely ridiculous. But he senses how serious Yeonjun is about this, not missing any chance to give Soobin another educational lecture about fashion do’s and dont’s.
“But you look like a confused vacationer who got dropped off at the wrong island,” Yeonjun adds and finally lets out a loud laugh, his head tilting backwards from the force of it.
And that’s when Soobin bursts out laughing too. The boys laugh until their lungs hurt, almost knocking each other over in the process.
South Korea is going through a heat wave and the attic of Soobin’s house is the only shelter for the boys from the blazing hot sun. The many boxes of old clothing stored there serve as entertainment for the boys, and Yeonjun suggested they pick outfits for each other from whatever they could find.
He has always had an eye for clothes, Soobin notices.
He watches how Yeonjun’s eyes light up when he finds a decent looking raincoat that doesn’t look worn down in the slightest. It’s pearl white and quite sleek, almost futuristic-looking.
“We could really make something out of this, Soobinie!” he muses, eyes sparkling in excitement. He holds up the raincoat, shows it to Soobin.
But it’s not the raincoat that Soobin is looking at.
———
Notes:
hi baby come say hi on twitter
Chapter Text
It’s really quite wonderful what they managed to do with the place. Bean Fairy looks polished and festive and Soobin has never seen the place so full of life. There are fairy lights hung loosely around the old wooden beams, giving off a rustic yet homey feel. Soobin’s nose is hit with the delicious smell of bibimbap, fried chicken and eomuk, which there is plenty of placed on one long table. Soobin’s stomach churns at the sight and the smell, given that he completely forgot to eat amid his frantic efforts to get ready for the party.
Soobin’s eyes widen in bewilderment as he gets a full look on how the space has been decorated. Monstera leaf garlands stretch across the walls, there is a make-shift stage with band equipment in one corner of the café, there even is a backdrop with more greenery and strings of little light bulbs. It comes as shock to Soobin just how much room this place has if you take away the awkward table placement and those plastic chairs. He never imagined that this place could be anything more than what it is.
Soobin can see how much love and care must have went into this. It’s just a birthday party yet the festive atmosphere almost gives off indie wedding reception vibes. When did they even manage to set all of this up? Just yesterday here was Bean Fairy, now it is some wonderland.
Kai’s dolphin-like squeals are what return him back to reality. He grins and claps his hands, also taking in the sight of the charming place.
“Want anything to drink?” he asks Soobin eagerly.
“Umm, what do you have?” Soobin fiddles with the sleeve of his coat shyly.
“Oh we have everything you could think of!” Kai smirks and gestures to the counter area, now filled with all kinds of alcohol. Kai looks pleased with the wide selection of booze and it just doesn’t click for Soobin how the little boy from school is allowed to drink now. It’s like he skipped some time ahead and now there Kai is - a young man who enjoys to let loose because he is old enough and because he can.
“Beer with soju, please.”
“Got ya!” he goes off to fetch him his drink.
A great kickstarter that will be.
Now that Kai is no longer by Soobin’s side he notices for the first time just how many people there are. He clenches his fists, a tell-tale sign of Soobin’s nervousness. He recognises some faces from high school but there are still a lot of unfamiliar ones, which brings him a sudden spike of anxiety.
His gaze lands on Taehyun. The boy sports a burgundy blazer that complements his platinum blonde hair well. Soobin feels a refreshing calm engulfing him as soon as he sees his old friend.
“Taehyun!” he calls out.
A second later he finds himself hugging the other tightly in his arms and patting his back reassuringly.
“Hyung, Kai told me you’re back in town, but I said I wouldn’t believe it until I see it.” Taehyun retreats from Soobin’s embrace quicker than Soobin would have wanted, but he knows Taehyun has never been much of a hugger.
“And here you are,” Taehyun sighs in what Soobin can read as content.
Soobin feels a pang in his chest and all of a sudden he is consumed by the need to apologise to Taehyun. But apologise for what?
I’m sorry for not texting you more often.
I’m sorry for not calling.
I’m sorry for disappearing.
“The place looks amazing” is what he opts for instead.
“Thank you, well, I guess I just had way too much time on my hands,” he speaks in a quiet tone, much too quiet for the volume of the crowd while his eyes scan the whole place. His mouth is slightly agape and there is this glint in his doe eyes. Something tells Soobin that that isn’t exactly the reason why Taehyun did all this.
Soon enough Kai is back with drinks and the three chatter for a while. Soobin learns that both Taehyun and Kai are sociology majors at the university in a bigger town nearby. Well, Kai was, he has taken a gap year. Soobin observes how the two are seemingly close friends, constantly making sarcastic remarks at each other and snickering. They also tell him how during semesters they choose to spend weekends back here in their parents’ homes since the dorm life can sometimes be the cause of cabin fever.
“Dude, my room here is two times the size of our double dorm room,” Kai complains.
“Kai, we would have double the space if you didn’t have that many plushies!”
Soobin chuckles at the two and sips on his drink.
“What about you then, hyung? How has Seoul been treating you?”
Soobin saw this coming. He clears his throat.
“Taehyunie, you know already that I went to study Media Art at SNU,” Soobin starts and avoids looking him in the eyes “I did graduate and, yeah, this one company offered me a spot right away and it was all I could ever ask for.”
A beat and then he continues: “But then there was this unexpected downsize of the company, which ultimately resulted in having me laid off.”
He didn’t mean to say that much. He really didn’t want to say that much. Because he still feels embarrassed. But most of all he still feels confused. Yet here he is spilling personal details about his career. He takes another sip of his beer.
He can’t help but ponder why he was the one to get fired instead of his equally qualified colleagues. Why was he not good enough? Was it his shyness that kept him from maintaining a better connection with his boss? Was the lack of contact the reason for his dismissal?
In an instant Kai attempts to lighten the mood that somehow ended up laced with a bit of sadness.
“Hey, well, don’t dwell on it, hyung. You’re still young, I’m sure you’ll get a new job fast. And we are here for a party so might as well enjoy it,” Kai encourages. “By the way, Tyun, has Yeonjun hyung already texted if they are close?”
Soobin’s mind goes alert at the mention of Yeonjun’s name.
The plan is that they surprise Beomgyu who only thinks that Yeonjun and him are going to the café to pick up a few pastries. And hopefully he doesn’t suspect anything.
“Oh shit, he texted me a few minutes ago already,” panic enters Taehyun’s tone as he checks his phone “Everybody! They’re gonna be here any minute!” he calls out to all of the guests in the room.
Excitement and anticipation flashes in the faces of the people present. A few whispers break out.
But as they hear the guest of honour and his companion approaching, the room goes dead silent, so much so that the muffled voices outside the door become distinguishable.
“Aish, hyung! Was that your foot? I’m sorry.”
“Ah, these boots are new, Gyu! But since it’s your birthday I am not allowed to yell at you. Now keep your eyes closed!”
It’s Yeonjun’s voice.
There’s that overly comprehensive stillness, the kind that appears right before everything goes haywire. Soobin’s nerves buzz. He looks at Taehyun and sees that same bright glint dancing in Taehyun’s eyes, only more unmistakable now.
As the birthday boy enters the café his eyes fall open and he is greeted with cheers and loud shouts of “Surprise!” and “Happy birthday!” from every direction. Soobin watches how Beomgyu’s expression fills with emotion, how he starts grinning widely, starry-eyed, and how his eyes trail across the whole room in utter surprise.
Beomgyu is overwhelmed, Soobin can tell by the way his mouth opens but no words come out. He cups his cheeks with his hands and a taint of pink creeps in his cheeks.
“Wow, I- guys this is incredible!” Beomgyu finally vocalises “Wow, oh my God, I never expected this!”
Then Beomgyu turns to Yeonjun. “Was this all your plan?”
Yeonjun shrugs and replies in a smug smile. “Taehyun’s idea, but the three of us planned it together.”
Kai claps and jumps up and down, but Taehyun holds back, his eyes set on Beomgyu, the glint now brighter than ever. His gaze is expectant. And loving.
Beomgyu and Taehyun share a look so significant that it’s as if they’re speaking a language only they understand. But before either of them get a chance to say anything, the boys get enveloped by other guests coming to congratulate, giving out hugs and pats on the back.
The atmosphere shifts to pure cheer and the place fills with indistinct tittle-tattle. Only then Soobin finally decides to glance at Yeonjun.
And he is right there in the middle of the crowd. Choi Yeonjun, all-smiles, solid, singular, flamboyant as ever.
Sporting black leather lace-up boots that go up to his knees and a long royal blue wool coat, Yeonjun is irresistibly enthralling. He has always had an eye for clothes. Each item he wears serves his naturally charming looks, his honey skin and his pink hair, now brushed to the front. Soobin takes it all in. Yeonjun knows, has always known, how to carry himself, how to captivate everyone's attention by just being present. Ever since childhood Soobin has always been aware of Yeonjun’s magnetic pull, has watched many times how Yeonjun attracts all beings and now he feels subject to this pull. His fox-like eyes are intense, yet his laugh is bright and melodic. It’s like the whole room moves towards Yeonjun, like there is this inexplicably strong draw when it comes to him, like the attraction towards the boy is as infallible as the law of gravity.
Soobin barely registers that Yeonjun is staring back at him. A second, then two pass with Yeonjun’s eyes still on Soobin, expression unreadable. Then, like a flicker of a light, Yeonjun pulls his lips in a small smile. It’s so brief and timid and so unlike Yeonjun that if you didn’t pay enough attention, you wouldn’t even notice it. For a moment, Soobin thinks that Yeonjun is about to come over to him, pull him in a hug, tell him that he missed him. And they would hold each other, mutual understanding synergising between them and the unreturned calls, the years apart, the distance would no longer exist because they are Choi Yeonjun and Choi Soobin - each other's ride or die.
But Yeonjun looks away, returns to the conversation and the moment disappears.
———
“Yeonjunie hyung!” Soobin calls, “Are you here?”
He hears a faint sniffle.
“Yeonjun?” he repeats, more quietly.
He finds the older boy, crouched down in between the shower cabin and the wall, head in his hands. When Soobin comes into his view, he lifts his head up swiftly. Soobin sees the glossy eyes.
“Oh my God, hyung, are you alright?”
Concern washes over Soobin and the next moment he is crouched down next to Yeonjun, putting a reassuring hand on his knee. His lips are in a pout as he waits for Yeonjun to explain, to ease the ache gripping his heart at the sight of the other boy in such a state.
“They hate me, don’t they? I mean, did you see the side-eye Hyunmi gave me? I swear I’m going to become the school's laughing stock for this party!” Yeonjun exasperates.
“What are you talking about?” Soobin looks at Yeonjun puzzled.
It was the first party Yeonjun ever hosted. Both Soobin and Yeonjun (mostly Yeonjun) had gained some popularity at school and Yeonjun had been looking for any opportunity to throw a party since “that’s what popular people do” he had said. So he asked for Soobin’s help to organise everything and Soobin, of course, caved.
And obviously people were delighted to come to Yeonjun’s party. Because it’s Yeonjun. He’s likeable and attractive and everything people want to be around with.
But this small, fragile boy in the bathroom - that is something only Soobin’s eyes got to see. The boy that has insecurities, the boy whose own perfectionism keeps him from fully enjoying himself. The boy who questions his every decision. The boy who breaks down and cries. No one else saw this Yeonjun.
“That is complete nonsense, hyung! You know everyone in that room is in love with you.”
At that Yeonjun shoots his eyes up to stare into Soobin’s. His gaze is searching, questioning, interrogating Soobin as if he’s trying to unravel some deeper truth.
“Really?” he utters, barely a whisper.
“Yes,” he speaks almost as quiet as Yeonjun. “Now come on, they are looking for you!”
Soobin helps him up and the boy dries his eyes with his thumbs.
“And Hyunmi is annoyed only because you wore the same denim jacket better than her,” Soobin chortles as he pokes one of the embroidered patches Yeonjun sew onto his jacket to give it a more unique look.
Yeonjun chuckles at that.
———
“Good evening everybody, we are Yesterday x Separately and we’re gonna play you some tunes today,” the long-haired soloist introduced the band with a raspy voice.
It is well after dark and the rock band is in full swing. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves, the main area of the café now turned into a mini dance floor while the ones who are not up for dancing are pushed to the sidelines. Soobin avoids being near Yeonjun, he stays glued to Taehyun’s side. Kai is getting wild on the dance floor while Taehyun is more Soobin’s speed - both of them opt for observing the others from the side while sipping on their drinks.
Soobin is already on his third soju and beer and he feels the warmth rising in his cheeks and the alcohol buzzing through his whole system, making his head feel like it’s feather-light, like it's floating somewhere in space.
There is Beomgyu, front row by the stage (it’s more like a platform than anything) losing himself in the rock beats. He is far too many shots in, flailing his arms rhythmically. Next to him is Yeonjun, also visibly tipsy, but not nearly as much as Beomgyu. He sways to the music smoothy and monitors Beomgyu carefully, not quite giving into the partying.
He is not suprised to find Taehyun also looking at Beomgyu. However, now his stare is more blunt, the consumed alcohol numbing everything. Taehyun is just a few feet away from Beomgyu, but he doesn’t make a move, his legs as though planted into the ground. Soobin gets it now. There is also a distance between them that is not physical.
A new song begins and the place is filled with a steady beat of drums and electric guitar. Soobin is surprised that he recognises this song, which means it must be a cover.
You’re simpatico
And of all the lift homes and all the mixed feelings
You’re cuts above
And you don’t own worries or a chest full of heartache
And yes, I know
That I’ll never work out exactly how you’re thinking
But, let me know when I’m needed home
His eyes automatically find Yeonjun again. Yeonjun is now examining the room like he’s looking for something. Or someone.
Soobin contemplates going to Yeonjun. The alcohol is taking the upper hand and he finds it hard to care. But what would he say? Where would he start, not having an ounce of an idea about what goes on in the mind of the pink-haired boy?
Applause breaks out after the song ends.
“Thank you, thank you. This was our last song,” there’s that nonchalant, raspy voice of the soloist again. “And happy birthday again, birthday boy!” He looks directly at Beomgyu, winks and blows him a kiss.
Beomgyu grows red in the face and jittery.
Just like that Taehyun is no longer by his side. He searches for the boy, wondering where he went, but his eyelids feel heavy and he can’t really focus his gaze that well.
Soobin feels the drunkness escalate. Emotion topples over him like a big wave against his small body. That emotion pours all over him and finds its home somewhere in his chest. He misses Sunghoon.
The thought strikes him out of nowhere.
Soobin tries to make out when was the last time he texted him. Was it even today?
“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” Soobin mumbles into the phone.
He now stands outside, cold air hits his lungs and he sighs deeply. There is muffled music coming from inside of Bean Fairy.
“Hello? Hyung?” the familiar voice of his boyfriend finally reaches his ears. His heart flutters.
“Heyyyy,” Soobin replies dragging out the “y”.
“Hi,” he sounds a little breathless “What’s up?”
Soobin hears multiple indistinct voices on the other end.
“Are you with someone?”
“Yeah, a couple of skating mates and I are going for chicken and beer. We just finished.”
Soobin furrows his brows.
“But it’s late. And a Saturday. You said weekends are for studying,” Soobin tries not to slur his words.
Soobin hates to be this way. But he knows how easily Sunghoon’s university assignments get neglected due to figure skating. When school is up against skating, school will lose every time. Hell, maybe even Soobin would lose. He frantically shakes that thought away.
“Hyung, you know how precious ice time is. When there is a free slot, I shouldn’t hesitate to take it,” Sunghoon pleads.
Now Soobin has a chance to voice his emotions. To say that it doesn’t matter as long as Sunghoon is happy. To say that he misses him. That he wants to kiss that little mole on the side of his nose bridge. That he wants to curl up against him on the couch, breathe in his soft lavender detergent and watch crappy variety shows until they fall asleep in each other’s arms.
Yet he says nothing. It’s like he stumbles on his own words, the booze, the music, the chatter, the emotions bringing him on the verge of overdrive.
So he tells Sunghoon to have fun and ends the call.
Although hesitant, Soobin turns around to get back to the party, but then he notices a figure leaning against the stone cold wall, breathing in and out deeply, as if steadying themselves.
“Taehyun?”
Taehyun shakes his head, avoids looking at Soobin. Has he been here the whole time?
“I don’t know what to do with him anymore, hyung” Taehyun sighs, distress pouring out of his tone. “I feel so many things that I don’t know what to do with. And I’ve been feeling this way since fucking high school, I bottled it up, didn’t tell you or anyone, because of how embarrassed I was for something so deep and ginormous growing its roots in my heart for someone I barely even talked to! I tried pushing these feelings away for years, tried to find the rational, the logical approach. But they kept on growing and when I couldn’t ignore them anymore I went out of my way to show him how much I care, how much I would do just for him to look at me the same way I look at him. And it’s been fucking years and I still can’t fucking tell him how I feel because my whole heart is at stake, I-“
His voice breaks. Soobin has never seen Taehyun so open and vulnerable, the boy always kept a calm façade, his mind constantly weighing out what is necessary to say and what should be better kept to himself. Yet here he is, the panic-struck words overflowing and spilling after years of containing. It must be the effect of alcohol.
He doesn’t even need to ask who Taehyun is talking about.
Beomgyu.
It hurts Soobin to see his friend in distress, so he gathers all logical thoughts left in his drunken haze to comfort Taehyun.
“Hey, well-“ Soobin pauses, putting his hands on Taehyun’s shoulders, thinking hard as what to say next. “You go out there, and you- and you tell him! You tell him!”
It is probably not the best advice, but Soobin is far from sober to think of anything else.
Taehyun eyes Soobin in contemplation. Then, “maybe I should,” he whispers.
“Maybe you should”
“Maybe I will”
“Maybe you will”
Without saying more, Soobin slings an arm around Taehyun’s shoulder idly and guides him back inside.
The boys enter. And that is when their eyes land on a sight neither of them expected. They both stop in their tracks, in sync. Soobin’s mouth falls open.
It’s Beomgyu. He’s by the bar.
And there’s the soloist.
And they have their lips on each other’s.
Notes:
Yeonjun's party fit was inspired by this look
The song that the band was playing at the party was Catfish and the Bottlemen - Kathleen
<33
Chapter Text
Every beat of the song thumps heavily against Soobin’s head. He senses the crowd, the people swaying their bodies in close proximities, the airless space.
It’s like it’s all around, but far away. Covered. Offset. Like his ears have been clogged with water.
His eyes dart around the room only to be met with faceless nobodies. People Soobin doesn’t know. He has lost Kai, doesn’t know where Taehyun has run off to again (after Soobin's horrendous attempts to comfort the younger, AGAIN).
Soobin really did rack his brain for any possible band-aids for Taehyun’s broken heart, but his dazed mind could only come up with one solution - more shots. So that’s how everything became rather fuzzy.
He checks his phone and sure enough there is a text from Taehyun.
taehyun:
took cab !!
went homr dont wprry
Ah, shit. Now Soobin can’t decide whether he should keep on floating in his careless drunken state or force himself to sober up and reevaluate if this situation acquires more concern. He settles on the latter one and heads to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face, hoping that that would bring his senses back - something he desperately needs given his plugged ears and heavy eyes.
What he didn’t anticipate is the company he is met with in the restroom. First, he notices the last stall is occupied and thinks nothing of it, beelining straight to the sink.
Then he hears the awful sound of someone throwing up. His own stomach starts bubbling with nausea when he hears it.
He swallows thickly.
Then there is a voice.
“That’s it, get it all out,” the speaker is undoubtedly Yeonjun “Hold on, I’ll get you some tissues.”
Soobin freezes on the spot, his limbs refusing to work.
Yeonjun exits the stall and when he finally notices Soobin’s presence he pauses for a second and scans him up and down. Soobin’s mind goes blank.
Then Yeonjun walks over to the tissue box that is located right beside Soobin, leans over to grab a few pieces as if Soobin is not there, as if this isn’t the closest they have been to each other in years.
But before Yeonjun can retreat back to the stall, Soobin dares to speak up. It spills out of him without a second thought, since Soobin’s buzzed and doesn’t care anymore, stopped caring a few drinks ago.
“Is he okay?” he asks loudly, the ringing in his ears making it hard to find the right volume.
Yeonjun doesn’t answer right away. He turns around and his eyes soften.
“Beommie is alright, yes, he just shouldn’t have had that last margarita.”
Soobin doesn’t know what to do with the fact that Yeonjun uses a nickname to address Beomgyu. He also doesn’t know what to do with the fact that Yeonjun’s lips look very pink in this light, almost matching his hair. He swats this thought away, blaming it on the alcohol working his mind too far.
Then Taehyun’s crushed expression pops into his head. The way he scarcely managed to blink his tears away at the sight of Beomgyu locking lips with the band guy. And the worry he feels for Beomgyu is soon replaced with something else. Anger.
“Maybe he also shouldn’t have kissed a stranger,” Soobin snaps, the mocking tone way out of Soobin’s character.
Yeonjun narrows his eyes.
“It was just a stupid dare. Beomgyu chose dare and someone told him to kiss the guy,” Yeonjun shrugs, unaware of the damage it did to his friend.
Through his clouded head Soobin makes an effort to memorise the way Yeonjun talks as if he only gets this one chance to have a conversation with him. Still he is unable to push the stirring rage away. It’s not his business, not his place and yet-
“So you all just- you just decide to step on other p-people like that?” Soobin stutters, trying to make sense himself of where he is leading this interaction.
Yeonjun raises his eyebrows in disbelief, his pouty (and pink) lips parting slightly.
“What? What does that have to do with anything?” annoyance enters Yeonjun’s voice and Soobin hates it. He doesn’t like where this is going yet his tongue is way too loose to control.
“You-” Soobin starts weakly.
All of it has to do with you.
His nerves are sizzling.
“You walk- you walk around like you’re better than everybody else,” Soobin finally manages.
“Excuse me? All I am doing is looking out for my friend!”
“F-friend? You have a weird way of treating friends!” Soobin raises his voice.
He notices on Yeonjun’s features how different emotions fight for dominance - there’s anger, shock, disbelief, hurt. All mixed up and confused with one another.
Soobin wants it to stop. He doesn’t want to see Yeonjun upset like this. He wants to see Yeonjun like back when they were kids. Read him. Understand him. But he is far from it. Lightyears away.
“What is your problem?! I’m just living my life and you barge in with your judgement!” Yeonjun cries.
The problem is you.
Soobin’s emotions are reaching their high point, everything he told himself not to think about, not to worry about now forming into one big revolting ball that is about to explode. He is digging himself a hole he doesn’t know how he'll get out of, but he's in way too deep already and he has the shovel so…
“If you wanted to hurt- to make me hurt, you could’ve just stabbed me in the chest instead of ignoring me like a petty little schoolboy!”
There it is. As soon as those words leave his lips, everything freezes. They are locked in this isolated vacuum of the unanswered Something. There is no party anymore, no music, no Beomgyu. Just Soobin and Yeonjun and everything that’s unspoken now hanging in the air, making it thick and heavy and suffocating.
He watches as if in slow motion how tears stream down Yeonjun’s cheeks.
“Soobinie, I never meant-” he chokes on a sob.
Soobin can almost hear the thud with which his heart drops to his stomach. Yeonjun had only let himself cry in front of Soobin. But he had never been the one to make him cry.
Soobin wants to throw up.
His head feels light.
“Woah,” Beomgyu stumbles out of the stall, face flushed, eyes half-lidded. He supports himself clutching the door handle.
“Taehyun,” Beomgyu's voice comes out scratchy “Where’s Taehyun?”
“H-he left,” Soobin says under his breath looking anywhere but at the two.
Soobin feels completely sober. He floats weightless, like all of his guts have been wrenched out of him along with the remaining alcohol in his system.
He barely makes out that the two boys have hurried away, Yeonjun muttering something about getting Beomgyu water.
He watches them walk away as if he's behind a glass wall. On his own planet. Alone.
With the ground shattering beneath his feet.
———
The next morning Soobin feels horrible. His insides churn uncomfortably and he tries to push down that nauseating feeling down his throat. Every sound rattles in his skull, making him wince through his bulging headache.
Hangovers are disgusting.
But most of all Soobin feels like a horrible person. A part of him wishes that he had consumed enough alcohol to forget the look of Yeonjun’s tear-stained face. That it would just be a dull spectacle lost in oblivion. But in reality, he can’t get him out of his head. It’s like the whole scene of Soobin lashing out on him is put on loop in his head. He doesn’t understand why everything came out that way.
It’s not like it wasn’t the truth, a little voice in his head whispers.
To avoid the inevitable spiralling of his thoughts, Soobin takes a walk. The cool breeze and the physical activity always succeeds to calm his nerves. He strolls around the streets he has walked on hundreds of times, passing the places he’s been in hundreds of times. Everything here is halted. Like a time capsule. Like an Easter egg of his past. Like a snow globe with a figurine of little Soobin inside running around without a care in the world in the midst of the falling snowflakes. But somehow being back here cracked the shiny surface of the perfectly-round snow globe. It’s as if the liquid is seeping through the shattered glass and Soobin hopelessly tries to keep the shards together, but the ball doesn’t look as beautiful and perfect anymore. Now there’s that liquid and those sharp shards he has to worry about. Now there’s career, relationships, future. Now he’s robbed of the naivety of childhood.
Last night’s encounter with Yeonjun was like a hammer to the already pathetic-looking globe. It smashed it completely. Tiny pieces of glass and gooey liquid spattering across the tiled bathroom floor. And little Soobin figurine laying there in between. Tiny pieces of his childhood and Soobin still caught up in them.
It’s not like Soobin and Yeonjun never argued back in the day. Their disputes, although minor, sometimes left the boys so tense that they had to take a breather from each other, and from themselves. But sooner than later there was a knock on the door, the knowing eyes, the arms locked around one another and the “I’m sorry”. They were attached by a tether - if one pulled too hard, it hurt. It felt wrong. They shared that snow globe, catching the falling feather-light snowflakes on their tongues.
That was when they lived in one globe. Were one planet.
Soobin’s walk had unknowingly lead him to Bean Fairy. The café is in the corner of the building, giving it a welcoming, almost European-like vibe. The facade is white but the front wall of the café is covered in window pane squares that have been painted a baby blue colour. But Soobin notices how the paint is peeling off in some spots. He also notes the contrasting wooden entrance door that has seemingly been excluded from the painting and kept in a sand yellow colour.
The sign on the door reads “closed”.
Right. Sunday.
But then something catches Soobin’s eye. Despite the light reflecting on the windows he can detect some movement inside. With sudden curiosity he squints his eyes and peeks inside.
He’s hit with surprise when he sees Kai’s face lighting up at the sight of Soobin and gesturing him to come inside.
And sure enough the door is unlocked. Soobin takes a precarious step inside.
The wonderland from yesterday has turned back into a pumpkin. It’s so empty, quiet and chilled and most of the decorations have been stuffed into carton boxes that are neatly placed by the door. The make-shift stage is still there. Soobin wonders how did they manage to do all that while Soobin has been nursing his bad hangover all morning.
“Soobin-hyung!” Kai gets up from the barstool he’s been sitting on and approaches Soobin. “Oh, your face is all puffy!”
Kai pinches his cheek lightly and coos. Soobin blushes at the contact.
“We just ordered haejang-guk, will you want some too?”
Soobin badly needs something hearty and filling and haejang-guk can cure anything, he believes. He nods.
Wait, we ordered?
“Kamal, we’re out of-”
Yeonjun pops out of the staff’s area, Soobin's unexpected presence cuts him off.
Soobin turns his head to where Yeonjun just appeared and in an instant an ache in his chest pulls at his heart.
Yeonjun’s eyebrows lift up, wearing an expression of dismay and the similarity of this to the Yeonjun in the bathroom last night throws Soobin into a whirlwind.
A white T-shirt, french-tucked into wide dark wash jeans, falls loosely on Yeonjun’s sharp collarbones. There is no reason for him to look this good.
Now that Yeonjun’s arms are exposed Soobin can see that there are many small tattoos littered across his skin. He watches in awe. It makes sense that Yeonjun enjoys being inked. It fits his style, fits the way he carries himself.
“Yeonjunie hyung! We’re gonna eat together. All three of us!” Kai chimes, as if sensing the exchange of stares between the two.
“Actually, ummm… I remembered there’s somewhere I need to be,” Soobin murmurs and turns on his heel, bolting to the door.
As soon as he steps out the door, he notices that the younger boy has followed him outside.
“Hyung? What is going on?” Kai asks with a hint of urgency, letting the door slam behind him.
“Nothing, I just had-“
“Don’t lie to me,” Kai speaks up and the straightforwardness of the younger startles him. “Yeonjun-hyung's mood this morning has been more sour than the coffee here and now you flee at the sight of him. What is going on?”
Soobin gulps. The heaviness in his chest weighs on him making it hard to speak.
“I… I don’t understand him,” he admits as he averts his gaze to the ground.
“Have you tried?”
“What?”
“Have you tried understanding him?”
The question and the sternness in Kai’s voice take him completely off guard. He never thought he would have to make such an effort to understand Choi Yeonjun. They used to understand each other without words. It leads Soobin to believe there’s something he doesn’t know. Something he missed.
“I g-guess no, but… He also didn’t-“ Soobin doesn’t know exactly how to express this to Kai. The words come out strained.
Kai sighs. His appearance has changed beyond recognition. With they way he looks at Soobin, worried and gentle yet firm, ready to face the situation hands-on, it is hard to see the same child from school in front of him.
“Look, hyung, you don’t know half of the story.” Kai’s words, albeit not harsh in the slightest, dig like blades into Soobin’s flesh.
It’s true. He probably doesn’t.
“And since Yeonjun has been through enough,” Kai continues “I have to ask you to be the bigger person.”
At that moment Soobin realises that Kai knows way more than he initially thought. He knows that Soobin and Yeonjun didn’t just naturally grow apart. That there is that Something that lead them to be in this position. That it’s still lingering in the air. But it’s tangled and complicated and Soobin still doesn’t fully comprehend it himself.
Maybe even Kai knows more than Soobin does.
But what does “being the bigger person” imply exactly?
Even after they go back inside and the three of them slurp their haejang-guk in silence, he keeps on contemplating about what does that mean and only one coherent answer forms in his head.
“I’m sorry,” is the first thing he says to Yeonjun after they are done eating.
He tries to read Yeonjun’s eyes that appear to be reading Soobin’s just as intently.
Kai, ever-so-observant, makes an excuse to go to the kitchen and wash the dishes, leaving the two of them alone.
His heart pounds in his ears. He is brave enough to keep gazing into Yeonjun’s sharp, abiding eyes.
None of them say anything for a moment and Soobin takes it as his cue to continue.
“I shouldn’t have said all that, I was just-” Soobin lets out a sigh, averts his eyes again “Drunk and you know, I-”
“Soobin-ah”
“Huh?” he glances up at Yeonjun.
There are so many untold stories whirling behind Yeonjun’s eyes. The unsaid. The missed. The forgotten. They contain worlds that Soobin has never seen.
“I never meant to hurt you,” Yeonjun finally says after what feels like ages. He frowns and speaks gently and so, so carefully, evaluating every word.
Yeonjun looks small.
“Ever since last night I have been restless thinking about what you said and I didn’t mean to be so cold. I just…” Yeonjun gulps “I didn’t know how to approach you.”
Soobin takes this in. Yeonjun is talking to him. Yeonjun is bringing honesty to the table. And he doesn’t appear offended.
“To be honest, I didn’t know how to approach you either,” Soobin whispers, feeling as if he spoke any louder it would break the fragile moment.
And Yeonjun smiles at him. A smile that he hasn’t seen in so long.
Soobin can’t help the corners of his mouth turning upwards as well.
“So, I should be the one apologising,” Yeonjun finishes.
Relief floods Soobin’s heart. They are finally talking. Finally getting somewhere. Finally attempting to understand each other. He feels this huge weight being lifted off his chest and it’s like he breathes for the first time ever.
But what Yeonjun says next bursts Soobin’s little bubble.
“So I think we can peacefully return to our own lives now. No bad blood.” the way Yeonjun says it with so much uncertainty, it almost sounds like a question. And his presence is drifting away somewhere.
It leaves a bitter taste in Soobin’s mouth. So that’s it then? He tries not to look deflated.
Yeonjun’s position is clear to Soobin now. He wants nothing to do with him. He just wanted to clear the air so he can move on. So he can “get on with his life”. So Soobin can get on with his. Something about this lights a small flicker of pain in his chest. The unanswered questions that started dancing around in his mind now forced to settle again. Because there’s that sense of finality in what Yeonjun said.
Case closed.
It’s not like they’re going to be-
“Friends!” Kai shouts as he pushes the kitchen door open “Let me make you some coffee, because you both look like you really need some.”
Soobin can’t seem to snap out of his haze. He is hyperaware of how close Yeonjun is. He’s leaning against the opposite side of the counter where Soobin stands, his palms planted on the cool surface.
Soobin’s phone that he had set on the counter starts buzzing. The screen lights up with Sunghoon’s smiling face. The caller ID reads hoonie <3.
Soobin catches how Yeonjun’s attention turns to the ringing phone. And how his eyes remain fixed on the screen with Sunghoon’s picture for a little too long.
Soobin clears his throat awkwardly, grabs his phone, his eyes darting from Kai to Yeonjun, looking for a way to excuse himself.
As if reading his mind, Yeonjun says: “You can go into the staff’s area if you need to.”
Soobin rushes off and answers the phone.
“Hyung!” a voice on the other end speaks. Soobin immediately relaxes.
“Hoonie.”
“I am just checking in with you. Last night you sounded pretty drunk. Did you have fun? How are you feeling today?”
He feels warm knowing that his boyfriend cares for him.
“I had fun yeah, today is a little less fun though,” he chuckles lightly.
“I also wanted to say that I didn’t really like the way our conversation last night ended so abruptly.”
Ah, there is the Sunghoon Soobin knows. While Soobin was the one in the relationship to lock himself away whenever emotions took hold of him, Sunghoon’s confrontational nature was what always forced him to cooperate and communicate problems properly. In any disagreement they faced Sunghoon focused on solutions while Soobin dwelled on emotions. Sweeping things under the carpet wasn’t an option for Sunghoon and Soobin had grown to accept that.
But before Soobin can say anything, Sunghoon goes on.
“I really feel like we should make some kind of a plan with this… long distance thing.”
They had never called it that. Not when Soobin told him he lost his job and had to go live with his mom. Not when Sunghoon stayed up with him to help pack. Not when he got on the bus. Maybe it was floating in the air somewhere in between the rushed goodbyes. But now when he said it, it feels like a whole thing.
“Maybe… let’s schedule video calls?” Soobin suggests, knowing that Sunghoon is particularly keen on planning and knowing ahead.
“How about I come visit you next weekend and we discuss this in person?”
He can hear Sunghoon’s smile.
“What? N-next weekend, really?”
“Yep! I am free of work and there are no upcoming deadlines, so I figured why not hop on the bus and in mere four hours see your handsome face. Simple!”
There are so many things that are not simple about that. First of all, Soobin has only introduced Sunghoon to his mom by sending her photos of him. That day he thought long and hard, typing and deleting the message over and over again until he finally settled for hey mom, this is my boyfriend sunghoon, along with a very decent photo of the younger boy dressed in preppy attire. He intentionally picked the most that-boy-should-be-dating-my-son photo of Sunghoon. He didn’t know how else to word the message since her reaction to him coming out was still fresh in his memory.
Years ago, after Soobin had told her mom that he likes guys too, she didn’t appear mad or disappointed. But it took her days to even respond to Soobin. Days that were agonising for Soobin. Until she finally came up with an answer - a shrug and a “you’re my son anyways”. As underwhelming as that was, Soobin knows how lucky he is to have a mother that accepts him. That a lot of others are not as lucky. Like Sunghoon.
So Soobin’s mind is working in circles trying to fit Sunghoon, his boyfriend from Seoul, in this current scenario. It is like crossing realms. Because Sunghoon is that world. That world is not this world. That world is where the streets never quiet down and the lights never go out and the people never stop moving and they never stop climbing their career ladders.
This world is where the pace is slow and the paint peels off and the streets are dead after 8 pm and a pink-haired boy still smiles the same.
Soobin will have to work all of that out somehow because he can never say no to Sunghoon.
“I can’t wait, Hoonie,” he says with a grin.
After they end the call Soobin takes a deep breath. He looks around the room. He practically grew up in Bean Fairy, but he never saw this side of the café. It spikes his curiosity. The dim, small corridor where he finds himself in leads to the kitchen, then next to the kitchen door is the bathroom and at the very end there is a door that is not labelled. The mysterious door is cracked open a bit.
A weird feeling surges through Soobin’s veins. It’s so quiet and Soobin doesn’t know what he expected but there is no one. No one who could be in charge of this place. Do they just let Yeonjun and Kai roam around the café as they please?
He cannot stop himself from approaching the unlabelled door. This is way too nosy of him, but all of the questions make him take another step closer.
He slowly pulls the door open, worrying that if he gets caught by big bad boss or something, he doesn’t have an excuse ready at hand.
But when he pops his head inside there is no one there. Just tons and tons of things stacked on top of each other. Boxes upon boxes that block the light from a single tiny window. Clearly, this is a storage room. Or a room completely occupied by storage.
Upon a closer inspection he notices that most of the space is taken up by… furniture? There are braided chairs with bubble wrap still around them, wooden shelves supported against the wall, there are suspension lamps just laying in the corner, all tangled up. Hell, there even is a glass food display in white frames.
Soobin stands dumbfounded in the doorway trying to make sense of why is this all unpackaged, unused and here, not out there.
He returns to the boys with that question in his head. They are giggling about something now and then Kai’s laugh progresses and he grabs the table trying to balance himself and not fall off of the stool. Once they see that Soobin is back and wearing a confounded expression with lips pulled in a pout, their laughter falters.
“Hyung, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Kai comments with a slight hint of amusement in his tone.
Soobin frowns and licks his dry lips.
“Who even owns this café?” he asks, eyeing the two.
Kai and Yeonjun turn their heads towards each other and exchange a long stare. As if they agree upon something without using words.
Then they simultaneously turn back to Soobin.
And the next four words that Yeonjun says come out as if it’s the most common, most universal knowledge in this world.
“I own this café.”
Notes:
thank you for reading and engaging, babies!
and happy birthday to our healing boy <33
Chapter 5: the collision of illusion
Notes:
happy reading, babies!
btw your comments and kudos mean the world to me <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Nothing prepared Soobin for being an adult. Sure, it’s a thing we all grew up knowing it’ll happen. One day you’re not a child anymore, you have responsibilities, you make your own decisions. One day you can’t call yourself a kid anymore. But when is that day?
Growing up Soobin always thought that entering adulthood would be like riding a bike. You prepare on the support of training wheels. And a day comes where you take the training wheels off and start riding without them. Sure, it takes courage to go training-wheel-free, but at one point you just… do it. Yet becoming an adult turned out to be more complex. You take off one training wheel, then try to balance and fail and put it back on. And then you take both of them off but the track is bumpy and narrow now and no one told you it’s going to bumpy and narrow, so you want to put on the training wheels back but suddenly you don’t have them anymore. So you learn how to do everything all over again.
And during that time are you an adult or are you just trying to be one?
And does trying to be one count as being an adult?
Or have you just subscribed to the trial version of adulthood?
These questions rob Soobin of his sleep, as he lays motionless with his broken training wheels on an old mattress in his mom’s house.
He never thought that childhood was something he would lose. But it feels like he has lost it. He never thought that he would lose Yeonjun along with it.
If there’s one thing Soobin has learned about adulthood it's that you have to fight for everything. You have to fight for your spot at the university, you have to fight for that desired position in the company, you have to fight for a time slot by a good dentist, even. You have to fight for your friendships and relationships. None of this is laid in front of you, arranged for you, made for you.
When Soobin and Yeonjun were younger they were placed on this earth for one another. Two boys, about the same age, with houses few blocks away from each other, both tall in height with rosy cheeks and a spark, a passion for the old-fashioned. The old timey stuff you could find in the attic and make up stories about. Their sentences met in the middle and their feelings harmonised. It was easy to always be there.
But alas, those days are gone. They are adults.
And Soobin wasn’t there to witness Yeonjun taking off his training wheels. He took off right before life started, for both of them. And when they rode their bikes into different directions Soobin didn’t know how to call for Yeonjun again. How to knock on his door, how to communicate with him. So he didn’t.
You have to fight for friendships.
The sudden realisation comes over him.
Even if they grew their roots worlds away from each other, even if they don’t share anything anymore, even if they have lost what they were, Soobin cannot treat Yeonjun like a stranger. He doesn’t want to.
So it is then and there, feeling like a ghost in his childhood bedroom, that he decides he will fight for Yeonjun.
And with this intention he marches into Bean Fairy the next day ten minutes before closing time. It is another chilly March evening, but luckily Soobin’s favourite plaid coat sustains his body heat.
As it is rather quiet at this hour, Yeonjun leans on the counter idly and continuously taps his pen against the journal he’s writing something in. The older has been fond of journaling since he was a teen. He bobs his head to some R&B tune that’s playing through the speakers distantly. The rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt reveal the numerous little tattoos scattered across his skin.
When Yeonjun looks up to see him, Soobin's heart catches in his throat. Yeonjun's eyebrows rise in surprise and he gives a faint smile.
“Oh, Soobinie, I’m closing up in a few.”
Soobinie.
“I would like an iced americano, please,” Soobin says with a light smirk.
Yeonjun blinks once at him, then “Sure.”
Yeonjun makes Soobin the coffee and a silence settles between the two, but it is not uncomfortable. Soobin’s lips latch on the paper straw and Yeonjun cleans up his workspace.
It is when Yeonjun goes to turn the door sign to “closed” that Soobin breaks the stillness by getting up from his stool and taking quick steps to where Yeonjun is locking the door. And when Yeonjun turns back around Soobin is right there and the distance between them is suddenly reduced to centimetres. It looks like Yeonjun detains a gasp.
“I…” Soobin begins weakly, not trusting his voice, “I never grew out my wisdom teeth. The first apartment that I rented in Seoul was horrifyingly small and it had ants, even if I told you it was great. I almost dropped out of university in fourth semester. I haven’t watched The Breakfast Club since the last time we watched it together. On the day of my job interview I took the wrong metro and was running really late but they still hired me. Which ended up not mattering anyway, because I was laid off only three months after being named employee of the month. Which is why I sleep on a single old mattress in my old room that is basically a storage closet now.”
Soobin is now breathless. It is a small part of what he had wanted to share with Yeonjun over these years. What he wanted to live through beside him.
As a response Yeonjun just looks at him with those unabating eyes. But for the first time it feels like Yeonjun actually sees him. The vulnerability and everything.
After the older fails to say anything, Soobin breaks the silence again: “I know that I know nothing about you,” he swallows thickly “and we haven’t spoken or anything. But I don’t want to just move on with my life. I want to know how have you been… How are you know.”
Soobin prides himself for being upfront. That tiny sense of achievement makes his head feel light.
For a moment Soobin swears he sees tears in Yeonjun’s eyes. But maybe it’s just the light glistening on the deep chocolate browns. He wears such a timid expression that Soobin has to hold back the urge to wrap his arms around him. He still has to look downwards a bit to find Yeonjun’s eyes, their height difference is still something Soobin finds endearing.
“So tell me, hyung, how are you?”
Yeonjun casts his eyes to the ground and shakes his head.
Soobin can’t read if he’s sad, confused, tired? Because he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know why Yeonjun is reluctant to talk about himself. He doesn’t know how Yeonjun came to own the café. He doesn’t know why Yeonjun never came to Seoul.
“How about I come to Bean Fairy and for every coffee I buy, you tell me something, anything about yourself?” Soobin offers, the idea finding him on the spot. He grins at the pink-haired male reassuringly. “That way I can also contribute to the business.”
Yeonjun lets a low chuckle before nodding.
Soobin’s chin lifts up in victory and he gives the other a dimpled smile. But before Soobin leaves Yeonjun to close up the café he remembers something.
“You know, I got a coffee today too! Any interesting fact you want to spill in return of my americano?” Soobin says this in a teasing manner, not expecting to actually receive any other answer than a simple shrug.
But Yeonjun looks him straight in the eye.
“I also haven’t watched The Breakfast Club since.”
———
The spring air grows a tad warmer every day and it feels like Yeonjun grows warmer to Soobin too.
He makes sure to stop by the Bean Fairy every day the pink-haired boy works. And each time before stepping inside he breaks into nervous sweat, but when he is greeted with that easy smile and crinkle of the fox-like eyes, he relaxes. He eases into Yeonjun’s natural charm and talkativeness. And feels himself opening up more too.
It doesn’t come as a surprise to Soobin. Talking with Yeonjun has always been as organic as breathing. Soobin’s rather shy personality has refrained him from leading conversations easily his whole life, but with Yeonjun it’s not like he has to say much in order to be understood.
Over an iced latte he learns that Yeonjun has a total of eleven tattoos, nine of which are on his arms, one on the back of his neck - the callas flower that Soobin had previously noticed - and one on his ribcage (Soobin is left guessing what that one looks like because Yeonjun doesn’t show it). The tattoos are illustrative and fit Yeonjun’s style so well, they decorate his already glowing honey skin. With a playful grin Yeonjun asks the other boy to pick a favourite and Soobin pouts thoughtfully, torn between a cute-looking ghost with legs and sneakers on Yeonjun’s forearm and the beautifully delicate vertical solar system stretching up to his elbow.
Over a lukewarm cappuccino Soobin learns Yeonjun’s only official employee is Chaeryeong - a girl that Soobin saw at the café on the first day with a round face and kind eyes. Yeonjun introduces her to Soobin and he quickly notices that the two seem pretty close. Their relationship rather too informal for that between an employer and employee. He also finds out that Kai helps Yeonjun out with the work every other day, although he usually finds something to help with in the kitchen - organising the pantry, cleaning the dishes - since he doesn’t work there legally.
Over an americano Yeonjun tells him that he rents a small apartment just a few houses away and that he actually shares it with Kai. And that Kai, during his gap year, is going back and forth from his parents place to his and Yeonjun’s apartment and only recently transported his army of plushies to the apartment, which Yeonjun volunteered to wash so that they too get a fresh start.
Soobin soaks up all of the new information eagerly, savours it more than the coffee.
On Thursday when Soobin enters the café at his usual time he notices something shifting in Yeonjun. He sees the barrier between them disappearing, normally it would take a second for Yeonjun to turn on his charms whenever Soobin is around. That moment is brief but filled with uncertainty and anxiety until Yeonjun is smiling and being himself again. Yet today, the minute Soobin steps inside, Yeonjun breaks out in an adorable toothy grin as if he has been waiting all day just to see Soobin’s face. Or so Soobin likes to think. Not that he himself has been waiting all day or anything.
This time there is a drink already waiting for Soobin on the counter, it’s a double cappuccino with maple syrup, Soobin’s new favourite. Yeonjun’s sly expression gives away everything as he shuts his journal close with a little thud.
“Already made you a drink,” Yeonjun beams from the other side of the counter. He’s starts rearranging fresh cupcakes on the display, the sweet scent of strawberries and whipped cream lingering in the air. While Soobin sips on his coffee carefully so that he doesn’t burn his tongue, Yeonjun shows off his pipe work on the strawberry cupcakes. The pink-haired male is wearing such a proud smile, a playful childishness takes over his features when he holds up a particularly pretty cupcake showing it to Soobin. And yet again Soobin is unable to look at the cupcake, instead his gaze fixates on the way Yeonjun’s eyes turn into crescents.
“Never in my life did I think I would have to learn piping techniques,” Yeonjun speaks lowly after Soobin is already two thirds done with his coffee. “I guess that could be um… the fact of today.”
The silence that forms afterwards feels so loud. There is a volume to all of the unanswered questions and it seems that both boys sense it. When their eyes meet, Soobin is sure that Yeonjun knows what Soobin is about to ask.
How come are you here then?
“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” Yeonjun whispers before turning away to collect the used utensils and carry them to the sink, leaving Soobin with his thoughts tangled up.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow is when Soobin is woken up by the cheery voice of his boyfriend. Who is calling him to notify that he has boarded the bus. And is now on his way to him.
Soobin suddenly feels a pang of guilt in his chest and he can’t exactly pinpoint why.
Was it because he forgot?
Was it because he still hadn’t figured out how to fit Sunghoon into his life here?
Or was it the fact that he let all of that slip out of his mind due to his thoughts completely taken up by Yeonjun?
Either way it makes him feel like a bad boyfriend.
Soobin doesn’t have much time to dwell on it, because just a few hours later he is greeting Sunghoon at the bus station.
As soon as he spots the messy raven hair and the pointy nose of his boyfriend, Soobin breaks into a soft smile.
He wraps his arms around Sunghoon tightly and breathes in that lavender detergent. He is immediately reminded of Seoul. There is a whole other life that he left there.
Eventually Soobin pulls away from the embrace. He wants to lean in and kiss his boyfriend. But he doesn’t. Sunghoon is not particularly fond of public display of affection and Soobin respects that.
Soobin likes to show affection, however, likes to kiss, to hold hands. It is his way of showing love. His way of feeling loved. So he waits patiently as the two of them make their way through Soobin’s hometown and engages in easy conversation about the town. Soobin points at places and things and tells Sunghoon stories about his childhood. Sunghoon listens with great interest. He’s always been a really good listener.
Soobin sees his boyfriend struggling with his duffle bag, readjusting the strap from one shoulder to another, and offers to carry it for him. But Sunghoon shrugs and tells him not to bother.
Soobin also notices the slouchy way that Sunghoon walks in and the continuous yawning. He appears tired. Soobin frowns. If this is another case of Sunghoon skating until late hours and not getting enough rest, Soobin must inquire him about it later. Sometimes he feels like it is his duty to check if Sunghoon’s priorities are straight.
But for now he says nothing and suggests they grab a cup of coffee. Sunghoon’s face lights up and he immediately looks ten times more awake. Soobin chuckles and ruffles the boy’s hair, noticing his ears turning red at the action.
“Hyung, you probably know a good coffee place, right?”
He can only think of one.
Still, he tries to ransack his brain for possible alternatives.
It’s not that he doesn’t want to take Sunghoon to Bean Fairy, it’s just that he doesn’t know how to present him to Yeonjun.
The thing is that Soobin never told Yeonjun about his sexuality. He himself didn’t know much about his sexuality until after moving to Seoul. During his teenage years he only went out with girls. But moving to the city opened up a new horizon of freedom for Soobin and he was able to explore his preferences. Yet coming to terms with it was still very hard. His self-esteem took a hit after always feeling like he was unconventional, atypical. Like he didn’t fit in.
Yeonjun, on the other hand, has always been attracted to guys.
He never came out to Soobin, because it never felt like something that should have been declared in any way. Soobin knew that about Yeonjun since the beginning of time. Yeonjun had never hidden the fact that he liked guys. Just how Soobin never hid the fact that he liked girls.
By the end of Soobin’s first year in Seoul, some newly made friends of his dragged him to a gay club. Soobin had just started questioning things and the gay club was like a massive explosion in his face. There were lots of drinks, lots of sweaty bodies and in some turn of events that Soobin can’t quite explain nor remember he made out with a hot stranger. That night he returned home emptier than ever. He stared at the ceiling, laying on his bed like an empty balloon, that tug at his heart urging him to put a label on himself already. But Soobin didn’t really know what a label would imply exactly.
In those moments all he could think about was Yeonjun. How he was always so sure about what he liked. About what he was. How he had this charming flirtatious nature and assertiveness that no one ever doubted.
Soobin thought about how much he wanted Yeonjun to be there with him, how much he wanted to dump out all of the confusion, share all of the conflicting feelings with him and let Yeonjun soothe him through the ache of being completely clueless. He thought about just how close he was to dialling Yeonjun’s number to cry to him, to just let everything out after the prolonged stages of bicuriosity left him feeling so lost and so torn, like his whole identity was ripped apart.
Only when he met Sunghoon, Soobin knew for sure. And self-acceptance followed.
With a quiet sigh, Soobin leads Sunghoon to where he always ends up anyways. The delicious smell of pastries hits their noses as soon as they enter and Soobin immediately spots the familiar faded pink hair behind the counter. His eyes then land on a single iced americano sitting on the counter, waiting for him.
Yeonjun already made him a drink.
I’ll tell you tomorrow.
His heart clenches. Yeonjun was about to open up to him.
But Soobin is here with his boyfriend from Seoul. And Yeonjun is there, looking at the two of them with slight confusion.
And once again Soobin feels the agonising distance between them.
Sunghoon scans the place. Dressed in a long black coat, carrying that dark green duffle back. His boyfriend from Seoul in Bean Fairy. And his childhood best friend just a few feet away.
The two worlds that Soobin’s mind had separated come together in an overwhelming clash. Anxiety rushes through his chest.
He takes a step forward.
“Sunghoon, this is Yeonjun,” Soobin introduces, voice unsteady.
Sunghoon sucks in a breath. His eyes widen.
“The Yeonjun?” he turns to Soobin in surprise, his voice coming out in more of a whisper. Soobin stiffens and presses his lips in a thin line hoping that that would be enough clarification.
Yeonjun darts his eyes from Soobin to Sunghoon.
“Yeonjun hyung, this is Sunghoon,” he speaks quietly, “my uhm… boyfriend.”
Before Yeonjun can say anything, the kitchen door cracks and out steps Kai, impatiently untying his apron, stating: “Done with the dishes, hyung!”
Kai stops in his track when he notices the unfamiliar face next to Soobin.
“Oh we have company!” Kai calls out excitedly.
“Yes uhm, this is my boyfriend Sunghoon. He’s visiting for the weekend,” Soobin chews on his lip nervously.
“City boy, huh? Well, it is nice to meet you, I am Kai,” he gives Sunghoon a bright smile which is quickly returned.
Yeonjun keeps looking at Sunghoon, then back at Soobin, then at Sunghoon again. His expression is unreadable, but his gaze appears sort of powerless. His lips form into a tight smile, then “Nice to meet you, I am Yeonjun.”
Is this him coming out to Yeonjun?
“Kamal, you better drink this before the ice melts!” Yeonjun speaks up an octave higher as he picks up the iced americano from the counter and hands it to the younger boy.
“But I didn’t-”
“Ya, you better appreciate your hyung giving you drinks for free!” Yeonjun says with a strained voice.
Kai takes the drink and sips idly, but winces at the bitter taste of the beverage. Soobin and Sunghoon just stand there, stiff in the moment, both unable to lead the conversation further.
Sunghoon observes the situation intently, then turns his head to Soobin and catches him staring at Yeonjun with an uneasy look, still worrying his lip between his teeth.
Sunghoon unobtrusively takes his boyfriend’s hand and gives it a light squeeze. That seems to snap Soobin back to the present.
“I know what we should do!” Kai exclaims “We should all go to noraebang!”
Yeonjun raises his eyebrows at the suggestion.
“Please say yes!” Kai begs “I have been dying for some fun and the more people come the better. I’ll convince Taehyun to join too since he has been so down lately.”
Sunghoon and Soobin share a look and then agree in unison, both not able to resist the excitement in Kai’s voice.
“I’ll bring Beomgyu,” Yeonjun mutters under his breath with his eyes on the ground.
Soobin tries to read Yeonjun, tries to find something on those features, but he feels set back miles and miles away again. There is a lump in his throat that he tries to swallow down.
Just when Soobin and Sunghoon exit the café to head home, Sunghoon suddenly turns to grab Soobin’s face and kisses him senseless. It startles Soobin, since it is so sudden and so unlike Sunghoon to be like that in public, but soon enough he melts into the kiss, savouring the taste of his boyfriend's lips.
They pull away and catch their breaths.
“What was that for?” Soobin asks softly, flushed and with a little grin.
Sunghoon stares at him deeply, then brings his hand up to Soobin’s cheek again to graze it gently.
“It always seems to work when you start thinking too much about him.”
———
The cold tile floor sends a wave of cool from his nape down the rest of his hot body.
The alcohol is working its way through Soobin’s veins, making the whole world sort of weightless.
“Let’s play truth or dare,” he hears Sunghoon slur, the other boy not in any better state than Soobin himself.
Soobin sits up from where he was laying on the floor and looks up at Sunghoon’s discombobulated yet pretty face.
They had just started going out, testing the waters, seeing if their attraction towards each other can bloom into something more.
Their first three dates were rather casual. But by the end of the fourth date and two whole wine bottles later they find themselves on the floor in Soobin’s apartment. Playing truth or dare apparently. Both not able to think straight anymore.
Soobin hiccups, then: “Alright, you go first then.”
“Dare.”
Soobin clicks his tongue. Of course he would choose dare.
“I dare you to do umm… triple axwell on the floor,” Soobin says, trying to pronounce each word so that they don’t mesh together.
Sunghoon cackles loudly, clutching his arms to his stomach, falling back on the floor.
“Triple axel, you mean!” he corrects in between laughs.
“Yes, that.” Soobin’s ears turn red in embarrassment.
“Hyung,” the younger boy whines, “I can barely do a triple axel on ice. How do you expect me to do it on the floor?”
“Do a double then! Or single.”
Sunghoon picks himself up from the floor and with a tiny “woah” tries to balance himself after all of the wine consumed.
He does a little run-up before jumping up and trying his best to turn two times. He lands none too gently on the floor, losing balance again and stumbling back onto the floor, falling head first into Soobin’s lap. He laughs wholeheartedly and Soobin claps his hands in amusement.
Sunghoon retreats quickly from Soobin’s lap and regains composure. But now they are closer than they were before.
“Now you,” Sunghoon breathes out.
“Truth.”
Soobin sees Sunghoon thinking hard for a good one. His own brain capacity has gone out of the window at this point.
Sunghoon’s eyes widen as an idea strikes him.
“Hyung, who was your first kiss?”
The sober part of his brain tells him to act cool in front of his crush, but the drunken part of him lets out a particularly bubbly giggle.
Sunghoon sighs in desperation and gives him an unimpressed look. “Based on your looks and the fact that you thought you were straight most of your life, I’d say some sorority girl from high school.”
Soobin coughs, trying to reduce the dizzying speed at which his mind is going at. Yet he can’t stop a skittish smile from playing at his lips.
“Not at all!”
Sunghoon raises his eyebrows in a challenging manner.
“Actually,” Soobin starts unsurely “It was Y-yeonjun.”
Everything falls silent and Soobin doesn’t dare to look at Sunghoon even though he can imagine the surprise on his face.
“The friend from home you told me about??”
Soobin just nods and prays that Sunghoon doesn’t inquire further.
He tries to concentrate on the present moment, but his drunken mind slips away at the thought of the memory. He tries to concentrate on how Sunghoon is much, much closer now, leaning in more and more. But his head and all his senses flood with the memory of the fox-like eyes, the mint breath, the green tea body wash, the pink lips. The way he could’ve counted Yeonjun’s eyelashes in that proximity. The first time Soobin’s lips touched someone else’s.
“Guess I’ll have to outdo him then,” is the last thing Sunghoon says before closing the gap between them and kissing Soobin with confidence.
It is pleasant and Sunghoon is a great kisser.
Even so.
Even so.
Yeonjun.
As Sunghoon moves his lips against Soobin’s, he desperately tries to push the thought away, tries to call for his senses to bring him back to the present.
Even so.
Only one thing circles around his head as they kiss. Yeonjun.
Notes:
phew
Chapter 6: take that
Notes:
babies! kinda excited for you all to read this chapter because it is one of my favorites, if not the most favorite chapter in this story.
i highly recommend you listen to the songs mentioned in this chapter whenever they are mentioned, then the scenes really gain another dimension <3
i also updated the pinterest board and the spotify playlist :)
happy reading!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Yeonjun swims in his thoughts.
It is completely overwhelming his whole mind and he hates it. He wants to forget.
Yeonjun smoothes out his black sleeveless print top and sprays a bit of perfume on his neck while checking himself in the mirror of the tiny bathroom. The fresh cotton scent of his perfume brings comfort and he takes it in, grounding himself in the moment.
He tries to shake the image away but the more he tries the more it keeps intrusively popping up in his head. Soobin. And his boyfriend. Kissing lovingly in the golden evening sunlight.
Soobin, the boy Yeonjun spent his entire teenage years completely and entirely head over heels for, kissing his boyfriend.
Of course Soobin would want to be with someone like Sunghoon. The delicate, perfect-from-every-angle boy looks ravishing next to Soobin. Their striking visuals complement each other, making them that couple that makes all of the heads turn to them whenever they enter the room. So it comes as no surprise that Soobin has a boyfriend like Sunghoon.
Soobin is and has always been devastatingly beautiful and, naturally, he attracts beautiful things too. Natural beauty just pours out of him, but it is not the kind that is intimidating, it’s the kind that radiates light and warmth.
Yeonjun’s gut twists uncomfortably and he recognises this feeling but doesn’t dare name it.
The only thing that comes as a surprise to Yeonjun is that Soobin has a boyfriend. His head spins. All of the missed opportunities. All the possible outcomes. It almost makes him sick from the way his thoughts go around his head in endless loops.
The train has long passed. That train is far, far away.
God, this is overwhelming.
Yeonjun places his palms on both sides of the cold sink, leans forward, sighing deeply. He feels like he needs a breather before he can feel confident again.
“Hyung, if you’re not going to move out of here anytime soon, we’re just going to have to share the single damn mirror in this apartment,” announces Beomgyu, walking into the bathroom and and shoving his butt against Yeonjun’s side, making him move aside to make room for Beomgyu too.
Beomgyu meets Yeonjun’s eyes in the mirror and the amusement in Beomgyu’s face is quickly replaced with something else.
“Oh no, if you don’t drop the lovesick look right now, I swear I’m not leaving the house with you.”
Yeonjun shoves a hand back at Beomgyu, ears turning red.
“What are you on about? I don’t have a lovesick look!” Yeonjun pouts in defence.
Beomgyu throws him a sarcastic look.
“Do you think that I would still be caught up in a silly little childhood crush? Honestly, I am fine!” Yeonjun tries to let out a laugh but it comes out sounding a little stiff.
“Oh spare me. Let’s not pretend that it wasn’t just a few years ago that you were willing to run across the whole country for him.”
Put on the spot, Yeonjun just sighs. “That’s the catch. Years ago.”
Beomgyu runs his fingers through his long brown strands and Yeonjun mischievously reaches to ruffle the hair, messing it up. He can’t help but laugh at the way Beomgyu turns angry, pushing his hand away, trying to appear intimidating but ending up looking like an annoyed little bear.
“What do you think Taehyun would think of my hair straightened like this?” Beomgyu asks, suddenly all doe-eyed.
“Wow, now look who was calling me lovesick?” Yeonjun shakes his head.
The younger boy glares at him. “Dummy,” Beomgyu mumbles to himself.
Yeonjun chuckles, smiling so that his teeth are visible and almost forgets the worrying twisting feeling in his gut.
---
Soobin observes how Sunghoon puts on his watch, the one that is matching with Soobin’s gifted one, and brings it up to his nose to smell the worn leather strap. Sunghoon always does this, it’s like a habit and Soobin finds it kind of cute.
He plants a little kiss on Sunghoon’s cheek. Blush spreads across the younger boy's cheeks and Soobin savours every moment where Sunghoon lets his guard down like this. It’s in the smallest of moments that one has to pay close attention to that Sunghoon allows himself to appear cute. Soobin takes pride in being the one to cause Sunghoon’s adorable antics that rarely make an appearance.
It was Sunghoon’s determination and assertiveness that caught Soobin’s eye in the beginning. Sunghoon was everything Soobin tried to be - he could immediately tell he was cut out for something and was willing to work his ass off to prove himself.
To say that Soobin was impressed when he first saw Sunghoon skate would be an understatement. He was blown away. The way Sunghoon slid across the ice with such grace and defied the laws of physics in his spins had Soobin’s jaw dropping to the floor. He didn’t know that was possible, sure, he had seen figure skaters on TV, but experiencing the sport in real life was a different story.
After the first practice Sunghoon let Soobin watch, he didn’t know how to express his amazement to the other boy. Post-training Sunghoon had rosy cheeks and hair all messed up from the breeze, a bead of sweat running down his perfectly sculpted nose, he looked like a prince. Looking back, this was probably the sight that had Soobin falling.
When he commented on how talented Sunghoon is, he replied simply with: “It’s 10 percent talent, 90 percent work.” And Soobin has come to learn that Sunghoon lives by that wholeheartedly - that talent is not enough to get you anywhere, it’s endless practice that earns you achievements.
Still, Soobin wondered how it was possible to have that much control over your body. His tall height gifted him a good deal of clumsiness and even though his long legs weren’t necessarily lanky, his movements couldn’t be defined as the most gracious.
Having Sunghoon over at his mom’s house has proven to be less awkward than Soobin expected. For dinner Soobin’s mom had made seolleongtang, which had been simmering in the pot the whole day, filling the air with a smell that had their mouths water. Soobin knows that cooking such a time-consuming dish for their first dinner together with Sunghoon was a way for Soobin’s mom to show hospitality to the guest, but she didn’t want to admit that, brushing it off when Soobin gave her a knowing smile.
It was fairly silent by the dinner table, he watched in content how Sunghoon chomped on the food excitedly, having gone too long without good home-cooked meals. Soobin on the other hand only nibbled on the food, his nerves robbing him of appetite once again.
Sunghoon spoke to Soobin’s mother in formal speech and he went out of his way to answer any question directed at him thoroughly and politely. There wasn’t much conversation going around, just about apartment rent in Seoul, exams and how Sunghoon came to be a competitive figure skater since an early age. Judging by the way Soobin’s mom eased up, lips pulling into a fond smile, he could tell that she was impressed. They even bonded over their admiration for Yuzuru Hanyu and the reruns of Stairway to Heaven. Sunghoon was the picture-perfect boyfriend.
But there is one thing besides food that Soobin couldn’t quite swallow down the whole evening.
It always seems to work when you start thinking too much about him.
Uneasiniess floats in his belly. He questions the way he looked at Yeonjun maybe a little too attentively to make Sunghoon kiss him senseless with an intent to erase whatever thoughts Soobin had about Yeonjun. He owes Sunghoon an explanation. In fact, he needs to explain. Needs to tell him that Sunghoon shouldn’t worry. Needs to tell him that Yeonjun is another world, an isolated case, an island all too far away from reach. Needs to tell him that Yeonjun has always been just a friend and that he’s not even sure he’s that anymore. Needs to tell him that unintended circumstances led them to crash into each other’s lives again. Needs to tell him that it shouldn’t be complicated, but somehow it is complicated. Everything is.
Or maybe he needs to tell that to himself.
“Me first!” Beomgyu chimes, flipping through the song catalogue. They all plopped down on the old couch in the karaoke room save for Taehyun, who opted for leaning against the armrest, putting a distance between him and Beomgyu.
Soobin senses that Taehyun has been avoiding Beomgyu ever since the unfortunate encounter at the birthday party. The boy appears still and pretends to look at anywhere but Beomgyu. The air in the small room tenses a tiny bit.
Yeonjun leans over Beomgyu’s shoulder and peaks into the catalogue that Beomgyu is studying intently. Their heads are almost touching as the two boys search for a song. Beomgyu then points at something in the book and turns to Yeonjun sporting a smirk and chuckling lowly. Yeonjun responds with a frustrated huff of breath as he falls back into the couch.
“God, of course Beomgyu you would choose something sappy like that! Count me out,” Yeonjun whines.
“Hyung, it’s not sappy, it’s ABBA!” Beomgyu tries to defend himself.
“Beomgyu hyung and his ballads,” Kai shakes his head and smiles at his hyung.
“You could’ve picked “Dancing Queen” or something then,” Yeonjun says.
Beomgyu scrunches his nose at that and, refusing to listen, presses his desired song’s number in the remote-like device. Soobin sits silently, squished on the small couch between Sunghoon and Yeonjun. He can feel the heat radiating from both of the boy’s bodies and Yeonjun is so close that he can smell his perfume. It is making him shuffle in his seat.
Beomgyu presses “start” button on the remote theatrically. A display of ABBA's “My Love, My Life” appears on the screen, all of the bright lights from the TV screen illuminating the boys’ faces in blues and yellows. Beomgyu pokes Yeonjun with the microphone cutely, but the other makes a show of looking in the opposite direction, to which Beomgyu pouts.
He gets up, accepting the fate of having to sing the song alone, but then:
“I can sing it with you, hyung,” Taehyun murmurs following a sigh and jumps up from where he’s sitting all too quickly. Something in Beomgyu’s face suddenly changes, like he acknowledges something, and Soobin can see a perky light twinkling in his eyes. His features soften and express timid gratitude but his gaze still fails to meet Taehyun’s.
But before Taehyun strides to the front where Beomgyu is waiting for him, he pours himself a shot of soju that they had collectively decided to order great amounts of and downs it in one gulp. Soobin, Sunghoon, Yeonjun and Kai watch this scene play out, all four frozen on spot, all four aware of the thickening tension in the room.
“Taehyun-ah? Can you take the high note at the end of chorus?” Beomgyu almost whispers and Soobin barely hears it.
“Sure,” Taehyun replies with eyes fixed on the screen.
The song begins to play. The first few notes already set a melancholic tone and the melodic beginning tugs at Soobin’s heart strings. Music has always had an impact on Soobin, it’s like he feels it coursing through his veins. And then Beomgyu begins to sing, his eyes falling shut, trusting that he knows the lyrics by heart.
I’ve seen it on your face
Tells me more than any worn-out old phrase
And for the first time since they arrived at karaoke Taehyun finally, finally looks at Beomgyu. But the other boy has already lost himself in the song, swaying lightly, gripping the microphone in both hands as he continues:
So now we’ll go our separate ways
Never again we two
Never again, nothing I can do
Taehyun’s eyes dart from Beomgyu to the screen just as the chorus begins and they both start it together, in sync, as if they had discussed the part division telepathically:
Like an image passing by
My love, my life
In the mirror of your eyes
My love, my life
Soobin knows how strong Taehyun’s vocal is, has heard him sing along to random songs on multiple occasions; his voice oozes with confidence and he reaches any note with little effort. Yet now, singing the chorus together with Beomgyu, he tones his vocal down by a notch, sort of supports Beomgyu as backup, letting the older boy’s low and husky voice shine. And somehow their voices melt together in perfect harmony.
I can see it all so clearly
Answer me sincerely
Was it a dream, a lie?
They both swing gently from one side to the other, lulling themselves into the melody and continuing in unison:
Like reflections of your mind
My love, my life
Are the words you try to find
My love, my life
But I know I don’t possess you
So go away, God bless you
Beomgyu turns to look at Taehyun just as the other averts his gaze. And then when Beomgyu’s eyes trail back to the screen, Taehyun turns to Beomgyu to steal a glance. It is agonising to watch how they just keep missing each other’s stares, while it also enthrals Soobin completely and as the atmosphere grows heavy, Soobin decides to pour himself a shot of soju, feeling Sunghoon’s eyes on him.
By the end of chorus Beomgyu goes silent, closes his eyes and lets Taehyun sing the highest note of the song
You are still my love and my life
He sings his heart out, eyelids fall shut and he puts a hand over his heart, the words pouring out of him with great strength and reverberate on the walls of the dim room. Shivers run across Soobin’s body hearing Taehyun sing with this much emotion.
Then together, the volume of their voices reducing and two pairs of eyes finally meet, singing
Still my one and only
And as the song continues to flow through the second verse, those two pairs of eyes never leave each other. They keep staring into one another, the sentiment of the song circles them and the little space they have in the room becomes interlaced with the euphony of Taehyun and Beomgyu and their harmonised singing.
I’ve watched you look away
Tell me, is it really so hard to say?
Oh, this has been my longest day
Sitting here close to you
Knowing that maybe tonight we’re through
There is no way the two of them can justify this. The way they keep looking at each other while singing out the words. The reluctance with which they drag their eyes away from each other to peep at the lyrics on the screen. There is no way to hide behind what is implied. Soobin has transformed into a supporting actor of a romance drama, one that his mom would love to binge-watch, solid and heartfelt. He’s that character lurking in the background, a somewhat unimportant addition to the show, solely contributing to the plot of main character and his love interest finding their way to each other. It is almost too unreal and Soobin finds himself enchanted by the story.
For a moment Soobin believes he is about to witness the leads share a kiss, one you have to wait ten episodes for. But, in an anticlimactic turn of events, they finish the song in their last harmonised breath together and go back to being… just Taehyun and Beomgyu. Two separate entities. They awkwardly shuffle away, putting some distance between each other, in a result Beomgyu accidentally stubs his knee against glass table, nearly knocking the bottles over, then mutters a quick “sorry” and begins to blush furiously upon realising that he is apologising to an inanimate object. And just like that the magic of the moment is gone.
Soobin mentally thanks all the gods for Kai who, after sensing the awkwardness expand across the room, decides to cut the stillness short by giving the performers a round of loud claps, catching the rest of the watchers’ attention and encouraging them to do the same. They break out of their trance and gift them a few gappy cheers.
From then on the atmosphere eases again. Kai challenges Sunghoon to sing with him, grins with an enthusiastic nod of the head directed at Soobin and in some weird way it feels like he has to show Sunghoon off to his friends. He wonders if Sunghoon really fits into this dynamic and he hates that he has to think about it. Because it really shouldn’t matter, right?
“Let’s see what you got, huh?” Kai voices sportively.
Sunghoon picks himself up from the couch and accepts the challenge wilfully. They try to out-sing each other to some old trot song and Soobin witnesses Sunghoon’s eyes repossess that liveliness that he is sometimes too scared to show. The charm of Kai.
But even the endearing sight in front of him cannot keep his mind from getting distracted by Yeonjun sitting and breathing so close next to him. The effects of alcohol are just kicking in too and it is not helping the situation at all. But even if he was sober he would still notice that something about Yeonjun is off. This inkling resurfaces in Soobin’s foggy mind from time to time and it restlessly signals that Yeonjun is somehow shut off. He tried to write it off to them growing up; Yeonjun has matured, naturally, he is more serious now. But even that is not enough to explain the lack of energy from the older boy.
With the music blasting through the speakers, Yeonjun absentmindedly taps his foot against the carpeted floor, his bare, tattoo-covered arms crossed over his chest, eyes half-hooded and tardily following the movements of singing Kai and Sunghoon. The Yeonjun that Soobin had grown up with would have unleashed the dancing machine, moved his body rhythmically to the steady beats. He would’ve pointed at funny things and actions of the younger boys just to draw out a laugh from Soobin. He would’ve been beaming throughout the night.
Maybe he’s just tired.
The inkling still doesn’t rest at this conjecture, but with great uneasiness Soobin promises himself not to budge. It’s not really his business.
“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” Yeonjun says loudly over the music, startling Soobin.
He turns his face to Soobin and they are close. Sitting on the couch like this with their knees almost brushing but not quite yet.
After Soobin fails to respond with anything, Yeonjun continues:
“S’cool. He’s cool,” he slurs the words and gestures towards the two boys who have now taken their phone flashlights out, waving them in the air obnoxiously.
Soobin smiles at the interesting duo. Then turns back to Yeonjun.
“Yeah. He is cool,” is what Soobin manages to say.
But when Soobin looks into Yeonjun’s eyes they mirror questions that Soobin hasn’t given answers to. Yeonjun’s eyes map Soobin’s face like he’s on a quest to find something there and it’s making Soobin feel all cramped up in the hot room.
“I only realised I liked guys too when I moved to Seoul. But Sunghoon is my first serious boyfriend. We’ve been dating for almost two years,” Soobin gives Yeonjun the answer he was possibly looking for and it is thanks to soju that he loosens up into speaking about something like this.
“That is…great,” Yeonjun tries with as much sincerity as his state allows, “Soobinie.”
And he feels that name ring in his head, an unexplainable feeling creeping in his chest. He shakes his head and because he is brave enough now, turns to the pink-haired with a request.
“Let’s sing together.”
Yeonjun raises an eyebrow. He naively hopes that this could break Yeonjun out of his gloom. Even if it is just for a moment.
Truth is that they used to love singing karaoke together. They had their favourite songs that all of their other friends got so sick of hearing that Soobin and Yeonjun opted for booking the karaoke room just for the two of them.
“What do you suggest then?” Yeonjun asks, the corners of his mouth turning upwards the slightest bit.
“Hmm,” Soobin pretends to think, pulling his face in an exaggerated thoughtful expression, which makes Yeonjun’s face visibly light up.
“Oh no, don’t say-” Yeonjun groans as if frustrated but his growing smile says otherwise.
“Exactly! Come on, hyung, get up!”
As Sunghoon and Kai finish up their second song, Soobin announces he and Yeonjun are up next and presses the song number on the remote.
Sunghoon goes to sit in Soobin’s place and in a rush of excitement and the buzz of alcohol Soobin winks at Sunghoon and feels the urge to give him a peck on the cheek. This rather sudden action flusters Sunghoon.
“Shine by Take That,” Beomgyu squints and reads the song title that appears on the screen.
Yeonjun covers his face with his palms. Soobin nudges Yeonjun’s side lightly and nods at him, wiggling his eyebrows.
Their song.
“What’s the matter, hyung? Too rusty for this?” Soobin teases.
Yeonjun narrows his eyes at him.
“I’ll show you who’s rusty.”
It makes Soobin laugh as he clutches the mic to his chest.
The music begins to play and right from the first note the upbeat instrumentals set the groove right. Soobin observes in admiration how Yeonjun bites his lip and bobs his head to the electric guitar, imitating a rockstar. There’s the Yeonjun he recognises.
You, Soobin begins singing in the mic and points at Yeonjun dramatically, you’re such a big star to me
You’re everything I wanna be
But you’re stuck in a hole
And I want you to get out
Then Yeonjun’s vocal fills the space as he takes over Soobin
I don’t know what there is to see
But I know it’s time for you to leave
We’re all just pushing along
Trying to figure it out
Soobin joins in and the two boys continue this part together like they always did: Out, out, all your anticipation pulls you down
When you can have it all
You can have it all
They are faced towards each other, not bothering to look at the words playing on the screen. Both of them stored the lyrics deep in their memory system to ever forget. Yeonjun’s eyes come alive and Soobin’s heart swells.
He takes a deep breath before the chorus, lets the song take him back to years ago, feels that youthful carelessness completely take over.
So come on, get it on, Soobin chants
I don’t know what your waiting for, Yeonjun sings with eyebrows raised at Soobin and head tilted to the side.
Your time is coming, don’t be late, hey, hey Soobin swishes his pointer finger in front of Yeonjun’s face and the other rolls his eyes friskily before continuing: So come on, see the light on your face, let it shine
Then with the rule that they have of screaming this part together, they go:
Just let it shiiiiiine~
Let it shine
It is so ridiculous, so familiar that the pair stifle their laughter over the booming bass. And there's that magic that happens every time, they sing from the bottom of their hearts like this and they are no longer two ordinary people in the karaoke room. They are carried away to an arena, standing on a big stage, dizzying headlights, a sea of fans cheering from every direction you look. The clapping and the harmonised singing are making their heads feel light and their feet as if way above ground. But they are there together and they have made it. As singers, as performers, as artists. An unspoken dream of theirs. A ridiculous, unrealistic dream, but a mutual one.
Maybe in another life, they always thought.
When the bridge of the song comes on, Soobin remembers it’s his absolute favourite part. Yeonjun is smiling ear to ear now. He also knows.
Hey, Soobin sings nodding at Yeonjun, let me know ya
Let me know ya, Yeonjun answers.
You’re all that matters to me, Soobin goes on, punctuating each word with a poke of his finger at Yeonjun’s chest.
You’re all that matters meee~ Yeonjun replies, flaunting his hand in the air like a real superstar would.
Hey, Soobin does a little jump, let me show ya
Let me show ya, Yeonjun rocks his whole body back and forth.
You’re all that matters to me, Soobin sing-songs, giving the other a flick of the finger.
You’re all that matters to me, Yeonjun answers again, acting all extra with his eyes screwed shut, dropping an ad-lib at the end.
The song ends, Soobin and Yeonjun are out of breath, chests heaving unevenly. And for a moment still they don’t return to the real world. Where their friends are, where Soobin’s boyfriend is, where they are in different worlds. They stay there standing, facing each other, breaths heavy, small smile playing at their lips. There are stars dancing in Yeonjun’s eyes and Soobin never wants to see them disappear.
That is when realisation strikes Soobin. He doesn’t want to step off of the stage. He doesn’t want the headlights to turn off. He doesn’t want Yeonjun to turn away from how he is looking at him right now. He wants to stay like this, just a little while longer, in between the moment and its passing.
———
The magnetic pull. Yeonjun staring at Soobin with those eyes, eyes that glow in expectation, in raw anticipation. The magnetic pull. Every second Soobin is a few inches closer and closer to the boy with pink cheeks and plush lips parted slightly. The magnetic pull. Every second less and less of the world there is - less of the noises from the radio, less of the old bookshelves and golden afternoon sun beams. And more of Yeonjun it becomes. Until everything becomes filled with Yeonjun.
The rest disappears from view, a mere particle, a white noise entirely forgotten. There’s just Yeonjun, the scent of his green tea body wash and the way his eyes never leave Soobin’s lips as he inches closer than they’ve ever gotten. Than they’ve ever allowed themselves to be.
“So you’ll do it for me?” Soobin breathes out, trying to calm his pounding heart with eyes still set on the other.
“I mean, yeah, so that you get your first out of the way and don’t have to worry about it on your date,” Yeonjun voices in between ragged breaths.
“But I don’t know h-how to kiss-”
“I can show you,” Yeonjun interrupts in a rush before pausing again “I mean, just so then you’d know how to- uhm… with your date…tomorrow. If you want…”
They are centimetres apart from each other, the mint in Yeonjun’s breath hits Soobin’s lips sending a shiver down his spine. Yeonjun searches for any sign of disgust or disapproval on Soobin’s features but he only finds the younger’s eyes glued to his lips as he gives a weak nod.
The pull of gravity centers in on Yeonjun. It is as intense as an ocean wave drawing into the undertow until there is no turning back.
Until it swashes over Soobin’s whole body as he caves into the pull.
And Yeonjun closes the distance, pressing his lips against Soobin’s.
Soobin’s senses heighten, his heartbeat quickens and the world falls apart at the sensation of the older boy’s soft lips. A moment passes with their mouths pressed to one another’s and then Yeonjun leans back ever so slightly, their noses still brushing.
And when Soobin feels Yeonjun’s breath hitch against his lips, his body catches on electric wire and the energy that strikes urges him to surge forward and catch Yeonjun’s lips again.
Yeonjun accepts the kiss eagerly, begins to move his lips gently and Soobin tries to respond. He kisses Soobin so carefully yet firmly that Soobin’s stomach does an involuntary flip. Yeonjun takes control and after a beat adds more pressure into the kiss, tangling his hand into Soobin’s dark hair to which Soobin answers with the faintest of whimpers. At that, Yeonjun jolts away from Soobin, panic entering his eyes.
Soobin swims in a haze, unable to react, only watches Yeonjun’s stunned eyes and glossy, spit covered lips. Soobin begs his heart to calm down but it’s doing summersaults in his chest.
His lips tingle and this sensation is what makes Soobin bring his hand up to his lips and brush fingers over where Yeonjun was just a moment ago. He exhales shakily.
By the end of Soobin’s date the next day he kisses the girl. His lips move with more ease now as he is able to relax into the moment.
Yet afterwards, when he pulls away, it doesn’t tingle.
Notes:
:')
taegyu duet inspired by that one bit in Force where they harmonize. it has my toes curling every time so yeah...
also, i made a carrd
Chapter 7: rain on your parade
Chapter Text
The volume becomes just as unconstrained as the alcohol consumption and at least an hour has passed until the boys lose track of time entirely and indulge in the pleasure of out-yelling each other to yet another cheesy “blast from the past” song.
Kai laughs breathily as he watches Beomgyu throw his own dance party at the back of the room, whipping his hair in all directions as enough indication that the boy has already had a few. When his eyes land on the frail figure of Yeonjun in the corner, Kai immediately senses that something is wrong. Yeonjun’s regular posture is replaced with a much more slouchy one and that alone would not alert Kai due to the flimsy effect of alcohol, however, it is the fact that Yeonjun has found himself in the comfort of the very corner of the room is what is so unlike of the pink-haired boy and it worries Kai.
He strides to where Yeonjun is and leans his back against the wall right next to him, eyeing the other expectantly. Yeonjun wearily drags his eyes from Kai to Soobin and his lover singing a ballad together. Only then Kai realises that Yeonjun has barely had anything to drink tonight and the fact the older boy's worrying body language can’t be blamed on booze makes Kai feel even more uneasy. He doesn’t utter a word though, giving the other an opportunity to speak if he feels like it.
“Kai,” Yeonjun finally starts albeit shakily. When he doesn’t continue, Kai shoots him a look. Yeonjun gestures at the singing couple. It takes a second for Kai to notice that there are tears welling up in Yeonjun’s eyes.
It all happens in lightning speed, before Kai can even react, Yeonjun bolts through the door. Kai’s first instinct is to run after the other, but before he does he scans the room to see if anyone has noticed Yeonjun’s sudden absence. But the other boys seem to be lost in their own world. Beomgyu still sways his body to the music, not noticing how Taehyun’s eyes follow his every move. Soobin and Sunghoon are still immersed in the song, messing up the notes and laughing drunkenly.
Kai then slips out of the door as quietly as he can, not wanting to draw attention and looks around the dim corridor for Yeonjun. There is no sign of him and he figures his best option is to check the restroom. The muffled music still thumps in his head and his heart rate picks up in worry. Even though Kai has a high alcohol tolerance, he senses his body’s delayed response, finding it hard to move fast and think quick.
“Yeonjun hyung?” he calls out upon entering the restroom, cold white light of the small room pricking at his eyes.
Sure enough he finds the other there, facing away from the door, crouched down, a steadying hand placed against the tiled wall. His heart drops. Kai crouches down behind Yeonjun and doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around him, pressing his cheek against the back of Yeonjun’s shoulder. He can practically hear the ragged breaths coming from the pink-haired. Kai nuzzles his cheek against Yeonjun’s back, thinking that somehow if he is close enough, he can absorb his pain, take it away so that he is the one who has to endure it instead.
“Hyung, what’s wrong? Talk to me please.”
No answer comes. Kai loosens his grip and peeks over to the side, trying to search for Yeonjun’s eyes behind the bangs. They are screwed shut.
“Is it Soobin?” Kai asks carefully.
Yeonjun nods. Then shakes his head.
No clear answer. Kai furrows his brows in fret.
Heavy and erratic breaths escape Yeonjun’s mouth. Kai moves so that he is facing the older, braces his hands on Yeonjun’s shoulders, both still crouched on the public bathroom floor.
Acknowledging the gravity of the situation, Kai’s panic state is replaced with a sense of responsibility. His expression turns serious. There is no time for Kai to dwell on his own emotions. He has to help Yeonjun.
Yeonjun’s hands are shaking violently and Kai wraps his long fingers around them and start rubbing comforting circles on Yeonjun’s palms with his thumbs.
“Tomorrow… Parents wedding anniversary… I forgot… Flowers… Forgot… Flowers,” Yeonjun manages to mutter in between shallow breaths. His voice is strained and barely audible.
Kai’s heart aches.
“Yeonjun,” Kai accidentally drops the honorific, “Yeonjun, I need you to breathe for me, okay? Don’t worry about the flowers, I want you to inhale and exhale deeply.”
Yeonjun nods, eyes still closed.
“In,” Kai guides and Yeonjun inhales.
“Out.”
Yeonjuns exhales with a loud huff.
“In. Out,” Kai continues and Yeonjun follows, breathing in and out repeatedly.
Kai runs his hands through Yeonjun's pink strands, pushing the hair away from his eyes.
“I got you, hyung, alright?”
Yeonjun nods again, still frantic but at least his breathing is under control and his muscles relax. He falls forward, head hits Kai’s chest and the boy reacts immediately, wrapping his arms around Yeonjun and pulling him into a tight embrace. Both of them plop down on the floor. They sit there for what feels like hours, but is actually minutes, Yeonjun not ready to pull away from the warmth that his friend emits. The comfort that engulfs him. Kai rubs Yeonjun’s belly, the hot palm of his hand drawing circles on Yeonjun’s stomach unhurriedly, lulling both of them into greatly anticipated stillness.
Kai feels like a train has run over them, his body gone limp. Tired. So tired.
But he can’t imagine how exhausted Yeonjun must be.
“Let’s go home, hyung.”
“What about the others?”
“I’ll tell them we had to go, no worries,” Kai offers.
“But Soobin-” Yeonjun mumbles as if his breath has been stuck in his throat and he can barely get the words out.
“I’ll tell Soobin.”
And so Kai does. With quick steps he marches back into the room and announces their departure. Soobin blinks, his smile falters as he lowers the mic in his hand and Kai thinks he almost drops it on the floor.
“Yeonjun hyung is just a little tired, so we’ll head home. You guys can stay though,” Kai tries to speak as lightheartedly as he can, so his friends don’t start to worry.
Yet with all of his efforts, concern still flashes over Soobin’s face.
Of course he’s not buying it.
Kai swears that Soobin has a third eye or something when it comes to Yeonjun. Somehow he always picks up on Yeonjun’s moods and emotions probably even before Yeonjun has realised them himself.
“Is everything alright?” Soobin asks, taking a little step closer, brows knit together and lips pulled in a pout.
Sunghoon tangles an arm around Soobin’s, pulling his boyfriend back the slightest bit. But it doesn’t seem to phase him.
Kai shoots Soobin an apologetic look and mouths “it’s okay”.
He bids his friends goodbye before heading out of the door, intent on getting Yeonjun back home as quick as possible.
———
“Do you ever wonder about just how much of the world we haven’t seen?”
“I don’t know. I look at the moon and the stars and sometimes my world seems insignificant. So what is the point?”
“The point is that it is not insignificant.”
“How do you know it’s not?”
“Because of us.”
Soobin widens his questioning eyes at Yeonjun.
Us.
Yeonjun chuckles at Soobin’s sudden reaction in contrast to the still facade Soobin has been wearing the whole evening. He puts his head on Soobin’s shoulder. The way Yeonjun’s head feels heavy and his skin is warm, glazed in summer evening sun, the way their feet dangle over the edge, a few feet above the water, the way they sit on the river bank in universal stillness, the only two souls in their world - it all grounds Soobin, it all makes Soobin… Soobin. His shoulder was built for Yeonjun to fit his head on. And Soobin was meant to-
“You were meant to be in my life,” Yeonjun steals the words out of Soobin’s mouth.
Soobin looks at Yeonjun like he is the only thing he has ever known. He wants to voice something like that too. So that Yeonjun knows. So that he knows he would feel completely lost without Yeonjun’s nasal-sounding laughs, his random dances, quick bursts of energy to do something spontaneous, the curiosity his eyes possess. Curiosity for life. For the spark of it.
“Don’t get all cheesy on me, hyung!” is what he says instead.
Yeonjun scoffs and hits Soobin’s chest lightly. Soobin grips at his chest theatrically, huffs out a dramatic “ouch”. Both of them laugh.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“The sun hasn’t even set yet,” Soobin points at the horizon with the arm that Yeonjun is not leaning on. He really doesn’t want the other to move away from Soobin’s shoulder.
“No, I mean-” Yeonjun speaks in a hushed tone, “let’s get out of this town. We only have so little of high school left. So after we graduate, let’s leave this town. You and me.”
Soobin doesn’t answer right away, eyes grazing the soft pink and orange hues in the sky adorning the horizon graciously. The moment feels radiant and fragile and Soobin is scared to break it. Scared for it to pass. Yeonjun starts to nervously fiddle with threads of a rip in his jeans due to lack of answer.
“To where?” Soobin finally speaks, the sound coming out above a whisper. With the way Yeonjun leans on Soobin’s shoulder, he completely misses the gentle smile creeping onto Soobin's lips. He eyes the sun setting, how it leaves with a beautiful farewell every night, knowing that it will come back up again in the morning. Soobin smiles, warmth filling up his lungs from the sun, from the boy next to him, from knowing that just like the sun, after saying goodbye to a chapter in his life, he will surely start a new one with someone. With his best friend.
“Seoul. Let’s go to Seoul,” Yeonjun answers.
Soobin hums.
“I already looked up a few fashion schools and oh, for you there are great art programs too!”
Much to Soobin’s dismay, Yeonjun lifts up his head. But he searches for Soobin’s eyes, wanting to see his reaction to this proposal. Yeonjun’s eyes are expectant, they awaken in the reflection of the pretty orange evening sunlight.
And Soobin doesn’t even have to answer Yeonjun. With the way he’s looking at him, excitement written over his face, there is only one possible answer.
Yes.
———
Frigid droplets of rain hit Soobin’s nape, his head hung low, eyes fixed on the puddles below his feet as the cold seeps into his bones and finds its home there. Both boys make their way home through the nightly spring showers. They walk beside each other in silence, too tired to converse and Sunghoon drags his feet on the grey concrete pathway, a habit he does out of tiredness. Soobin sometimes catches himself picking up this habit too.
The cold rainwater prickles at his skin, all he can think of is getting inside the warmth of his home faster. He fiddles with the keys in his pocket, the spare ones his mom gave him so that he doesn’t disturb her early bedtime.
He pushes the key into the lock, the jiggle of metal echoing in the quietness of the night.
“Wait.”
Soobin snaps his head back. Sunghoon has stayed behind a few feet, his raven hair now drenched and sticking to his forehead as rain continues to drizzle all over him.
“Hoonie, let’s get inside, it’s really starting to pour.”
“I’ve been trying to get you alone to talk the whole day today,” Sunghoon lets out a sigh, “Unsuccessfully…”
Soobin sucks in a breath. His intuition is already hinting at what Sunghoon wants to talk to about. He grows anxious by every second.
“I don’t wanna do long-distance.”
What?
“What?”
His intuition was way off.
In a trice, it feels like the temperature drops to minus. The raindrops freeze in the moment, they float mindless into the icy nothingness.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, hyung,” Sunghoon tries to reason, voice pleading, “I want to be with you.”
Frost bites at Soobin’s heart. He chews his lip, unable to say anything. Drops of rain race down the back of his neck.
“But in order for this relationship to work properly, you need to come back to Seoul.”
“I-,” there’s a feeling stirring in Soobin’s chest. Unpleasant. Biting.
Sunghoon gazes into Soobin’s eyes, a stare that declares finality.
“It is not like I chose to be in this situation. You of all people should know that,” Soobin voices in a way too bitter of a tone. He hates how fast he gets defensive. But his own frustration at himself riles him up even more.
“I know that, and it’s okay to experience setbacks, but the important part is to get back up from them. I mean, how long were you planning to just sit back and do nothing?”
“It’s only been two weeks!” Soobin cries out.
“Exactly! And now it’s time to move on. Find a job, come back to where you belong, to a place where you are able to grow and not get too stuck in the past!” Sunghoon asserts, though he doesn’t raise his voice. He remains fairly calm.
Soobin on the other hand is anything but calm. Sunghoon dares to speak in such a lecturing manner with Soobin. His hyung.
“Hasn’t it occurred to you that life doesn’t constantly go upwards? That it goes up and down and back and forth?” Soobin tries, but his emotions slowly take over and he sounds desperate.
“When you put your mind and intention to picking yourself up from your falls, life does go upwards. It’s in the mindset. Don’t you think I know this? I’ve been figure skating since I could remember my own name. I know what a setback feels like.”
“Well, maybe it’s not like that for me!” Soobin argues, voice too loud for the late night. He feels like an unreasonable little child, whining when he doesn’t get what he wants. Soobin despises this feeling. Despises that he feels like a child every time he argues with Sunghoon.
The rain picks up, washing over Soobin and Sunghoon. Drops of water rain down, they collect the hurt, the miscommunication, the disappointment built up between the two and scatter it all over the overflown streets. Tears form in Soobin’s eyes and the rain takes them too.
He feels pathetic.
Sunghoon might have sensed Soobin beginning to self-loathe, since he takes a step closer to him.
“I just… I see your potential. I don’t want the comfort of your past to hold you down,” says Sunghoon.
Soobin’s eyes narrow.
“What do you mean by that?”
“I can see how it must feel comforting to hang around the friends you had in school and your childhood crush,” Sunghoon sighs, chest falling, “but it’s not going to get you anywhere. You’ve moved on from this life.”
“Wait a second, childhood crush?” Soobin’s caught off guard, eyes going wide.
“I mean, yeah… Yeonjun,” Sunghoon says this as if it is the most obvious thing ever.
Everything in Soobin’s stomach shifts. He feels lightheaded, cheeks burn despite the cold.
“Wha- He is not my childhood crush! He is a friend!”
“Whatever he is… You know what I mean. He’s the past.”
Sunghoon takes another step closer, his rain drenched face glistens in the light of a single lone lantern.
“I am the present.”
Another step closer. Chest to chest almost.
But Soobin can’t bring himself to say anything more. He doesn’t say anything when Sunghoon apologetically wraps his arms around Soobin’s weary body. He doesn’t say anything when Sunghoon plants a kiss on Soobin’s neck and whispers, hot breath hitting cold skin, that they can talk it out tomorrow. He doesn’t say anything when they step inside the house and Soobin’s mom, who turns out to be up suspiciously late, hurries off to fetch the boys towels for drying off. He doesn’t say anything the day after. He doesn’t say anything when Sunghoon boards the bus to head back to Seoul.
Notes:
i can't stop listening to lord huron's the night we met and thinking about this yeonbin
so excited for txt's concert tomorrow. we're getting a frost stage, hold me
thank you for reading and commenting, as always! <3
Chapter 8: fire and ice
Notes:
felt like posting another update today too, because i'm going through post-concert blues and maybe you are too :') so here you go
song rec for this chapter: Supernova (tigers blud) by Kat Cunning
happy reading!
Chapter Text
Spring arrives overnight. One day the all-defeating cold switches off. Sun decides to peak under the clouds, blessing the earth with its warm and comforting beams.
Spring is the season of rebirth. Everything becomes new again. Just like the cycle of life, all beings withstand renewals every year. But being anew doesn’t mean being the same. Identical. Same old.
Rebirth means dying to the old self, letting go of the purchase of the past we all tend to grip onto a little to intently.
Season of rebirth is the season of new beginnings.
But the bitterness in Soobin’s heart didn’t cease as quickly as spring toppled winter in a fair battle. It still nips at him. Still disrupts.
Soobin hasn’t really talked to Sunghoon since the boy drove back to Seoul the previous week. He hasn’t really talked to anyone. Other than “have you arrived safely?” and “did you eat?” texts, their communication has been weak. The feelings of uncertainty cloud Soobin’s whole being. At the very least he knows they are still together. That much they managed to settle on before Sunghoon boarded the bus, eyes gloomy and shoulders shrunk.
But now it’s like Soobin’s relationship has a deadline, like they both refuse discuss it further, but acknowledge it as a fact. That whatever Soobin’s next move is will serve as ultimatum for their future.
And Soobin doesn’t like this.
Be it out of spite, be it out of misery, but he intentionally avoids attempting to resolve this issue. He shuffles around the house, a little detached from everything, and continuously asks his mother to give him chores. His mother even makes a sarcastic remark about what miracle must’ve happen for Soobin to willingly do housework, but Soobin doesn’t really answer nor react and his mom decides not to press further and give her son something to do.
That’s how on a sunny afternoon, that first truly warm day of the year when gleeful children are the most eager to run around outside, their voices louder than usual, Soobin finds himself decluttering and reorganising a dozen of boxes that are stashed away in his old bedroom. They hold so damn much sentimental value that Soobin wants to throw up or cry his eyes out, he doesn’t really know.
But that’s the thing about sentimental value. People hold onto items that have memories attached to them for too long, too pained to throw them away. But doesn’t collecting dust in an old box along with other random things decrease the item’s value? Doesn’t the fact that exactly because the item no longer has a proper place in a home take away from its worth? Would a snake carry around its dead skin just because it used to serve it well?
These boxes are filled with dead skin. Postcards and magazines, photographs and stuffed animals, books and old gardening tools. Dead skin. And Soobin has fallen victim to revisiting old memories. Past versions of himself.
He scoffs as he observes a fridge magnet from an aquarium Soobin used to love to go to. He places it on top of the “throw away” pile.
At the very bottom of the box Soobin’s fingers graze something that feels like a wooden frame. A picture frame. He carefully lifts it out of the box to take a look at it.
With the hem of his sleeve he wipes off the dust on the glass. Staring back at him is ten-year-old Yeonjun and a nine-year-old Soobin. They have their hands hooked around each other’s shoulders, awkward toothy grins, both sporting matching light blue hanbok. It was on Chuseok. They had stuffed themselves with songpyeon before Yeonjun’s mom insisted they pose together for a picture, because according to her, their little hanboks were just “too cute”.
Is this the dead skin Soobin has been carrying around?
Is the smiley Soobin, jittery and impatient and excited for life with Yeonjun beside him the version of himself he hasn’t died to?
Soobin can’t bring himself to throw the picture away and maybe that’s enough answer.
Days have gone by since the karaoke night. Occasionally Soobin’s mind drifts to the expression Yeonjun was wearing that night. Something seemed off. And then him leaving so suddenly just added to the oddness of the situation.
In every event Yeonjun always managed to be the life of the party. He knew how to talk, but he also knew how to make people listen. He intrigued them with his stories, his cheesy punch lines, his performative speeches. And Soobin… Well, Soobin loved accompanying Yeonjun to parties. He loved observing the other boy in his natural habitat, surrounded by people, the buzzing liveliness making Yeonjun shine with assertive beauty.
Soobin also liked not being centre of attention. He would get nervous, stutter and get flustered when any more than two pairs of eyes were on him, the whole experience ending up mortifying for the poor boy each and every time. But even when Yeonjun was there to grab everyone’s attention, he still never abandoned Soobin. He would play with Soobin’s hand under the dinner table, he would turn his head to whisper an inside joke or a reference only the two of them would understand during spin-the-bottles, drawing out fits of giggles from Soobin. He would sneak food out of parties for him and Soobin to munch on later when they get home and wind down to some sitcom reruns.
Soobin paces around the house, picking on his cuticles. His mom seems to notice the restlessness coming from Soobin’s constant sighs.
“My son, what is up with you?” she stops Soobin in his track to ask.
“It’s really nothing, mom.”
“You haven’t left the house in days,” she reprimands with an unimpressed look. “Does it have something to do with Yeonjun-ssi?”
“How do you- What-” Soobin stammers.
“I am just guessing. You always used to pace around when something went wrong between the two of you.”
Soobin doesn’t answer, just picks at his cuticle, but then his mom slaps his hand away, scolding him to quit doing that.
“I saw Yeonjun-ssi at the market the other day. That poor boy looks like he doesn’t eat at all! He’s so frail. So thin. Unlike you,” she gives a light pinch on his belly, Soobin whines out a “mom!”
He doesn’t really make anything of the weight comments. Moms just do that. Besides, Soobin has been trying to put on some weight by going to gym, determined to add more muscle to his tall frame. But what his mom is saying about Yeonjun waters the already planted worry in the pit of his stomach.
“It appears I’ve made too much eomuk bokkeum for the two of us. I guess I got a bit used to feeding Sunghoon-ssi too,” she chuckles lightheartedly, “be a good son, take some and give to Yeonjun-ssi. That boy needs to eat something delicious.”
Soobin nods, the corners of his mouth perk up at the opportunity to check on Yeonjun.
Soobin’s mom scoops a generous amount of fishcakes into a blue tupperware container. She hums along to an old song Soobin can’t quite put his finger on.
The next moment Soobin finds himself running on the familiar concrete path. One foot in front of other, quick huffs of breath, feet carrying him through the streets lit with gently glowing afternoon sun. It is ten minutes past closing time of Bean Fairy. Soobin hopes that if he is fast enough, if his legs don't fail him, he could make it in time for Yeonjun just about locking up and heading home. He sprints through the alleys that he knows like the back of his hand, gripping the lunchbox in hand, making the heads of slow by-passing townspeople turn. He curses himself for running out of breath too fast for his liking. And maybe that is when he realises that this is the first time in days that he is eager about something. Excited. To see him. Like for the first time he breathes in the delicious smell of spring. Like it’s now his turn to have fresh energy run through his veins. And maybe it’s the first time in days he actually feels alive.
Soobin doesn’t really know how to go about this feeling, but his thoughts are cut short when he approaches the finish line and spots a figure just outside the café, wearing a baby blue sweatshirt with the hood over the head, taking out the keys to lock up and balancing a bag of trash in the same hand. With the speed Soobin picked up, he almost crashes into the figure, but comes to a halt just as the person lifts his head up. It’s not Yeonjun.
“Oh, Kai! Hello!” Soobin greets out of surprise, panting heavily, trying to keep his composure after the jog all the way to Bean Fairy.
“Soobin hyung!” Kai looks startled for a second, but then he flashes that signature smile of his and eyes Soobin up and down, who is still gasping for air and gingerly lowering the hand with the plastic box in it.
Soobin notices Kai’s light brown, almost dirty blond curls of hair peeking out of the hood. The new hair colour highlights the more Caucasian features of the boy, and Soobin thinks he looks even more unique than before. Then Soobin’s eyes drift to the keys that Kai had just put in the lock.
“Is Yeonjun hyung not here?” Soobin asks, still trying to catch his breath.
“Nope. I managed to convince him to take a day off.”
“Oh,” Soobin says trying not to sound too disappointed, “is he okay?”
Kai looks him in the eye. He takes a deep breath.
“Have you eaten yet?”
Soobin shakes his head.
“Do you wanna go somewhere for dinner? I know this one BBQ place.”
Soobin contemplates for a second, confused as to why Kai dodged his question. Then he nods.
“Your new hair is pretty,” Soobin doesn’t forget to compliment.
“Thanks haha,” Kai squeaks, flaunting his fists in the air cutely, “Yeonjunie hyung and I decided to have one of our spontaneous hair dying sessions.”
Soobin hums and grabs the metal chopsticks, places a piece of meat on the grill and retreats his hand quickly as it immediately starts sizzling over the high heat.
The BBQ place swarms with chatter and delicious aromas that Soobin will probably smell on clothes for days after. The older lady working there races around, scuffing in her slippers on the tiled floor, collecting the empty plates with loud clinks and occasionally shouting something to the kitchen where the overpowering sounds of extractor fans are a constant provider of white noise. It’s noisy and busy and surprisingly popular. Soobin always knew of this place, but never actually went in, that’s where his surprise is coming from.
Kai, on the other hand, is a regular here, from what Soobin could observe. He walked in like he owns the place, knowing what to order without checking the menu. Soobin smiles in admiration at the way Kai’s eyes light up when banchan is placed in front of them. He’s probably starving after a day at work.
“Hyung, you really gotta try this,” Kai urges, his mouth full.
Soobin wraps a scorching hot piece of beef in lettuce and puts the entire thing in his mouth. Kai watches Soobin’s face with a small grin. Soobin’s eyes widen and he nods repeatedly chewing on the mouthful of the delicious combo.
“Yummy,” he mutters.
“I know right? This place never disappoints.”
They fall into an easy conversation about this and that. Kai tells about how a rude customer spilled his drink today and tried to somehow pin it on Kai for making the cup too full. Soobin reports on his day too and tells Kai how he had to reason with his mom that maybe the swimming trunks that she kept from when he was eight years old should be thrown away but to no one’s surprise his mom found a million reasons why someday, somehow they could still be useful. Kai breaks out into laughter at that.
But then Kai goes for a complete topic change.
“So how long have you and Sunghoon been together?”
Soobin gulps, reminded of the difficult position he stands in with Sunghoon.
“Over a year and a half,” Soobin averts his gaze.
“Wow, that’s pretty serious then.”
“I mean, I guess, yeah, yeah…” Soobin trails off and Kai immediately notices the shift in his tone.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes! Yeah… He’s great, we’re great…for each other.”
“But?” Kai inquires, watching the other with curious eyes.
“We’re so different, you know. I mean, we are similar in many ways like where to shop and what movie to watch and where to go on dates, but I think we have different outlooks on… work and life.”
“Interesting,” Kai responds, leaning in to hear Soobin better, whose voice has gone a little weak.
“But he’s handsome and very driven. Very determined. He’s everything that I am not. So I look up to him,” Soobin scratches his nape, a little nervous.
“He’s a figure skater?”
“Yes, he is! And a brilliant one at that.”
Naturally, Kai is intrigued about Sunghoon. Soobin is used to it that whenever his boyfriend is brought up in conversations, the topic completely changes to his achievements and what got him into the sport.
But when they are almost finished with the meal Kai takes Soobin off guard once again.
“You didn’t come to the Bean Fairy to see me, right?” Kai asks with what looks like… a smirk?
Soobin pouts, feeling a little like a deer in the headlights.
“You’re worried about him, aren’t you?” Kai’s smile disappears, expression turning serious.
Worried is one way to put it. He is restless because of Yeonjun. He feels like breaking through an ice wall, hitting it over and over again until his fists are sore, until his legs give out. Yet Yeonjun is still behind the wall. And when he finally sees the wall melting, the frost receding, one moment, only one moment is what it takes for Yeonjun to be taken away from him again, the thick wall of ice standing tall once more.
So yeah, you could say he’s worried.
“Look, he’s just been going through a bit of an Anniversary Effect lately. But I assure you, he’s managing it really well compared to previous years.”
Huh? Anniversary Effect? What the hell is that?
“So, he can close off for a while, it happens,” Kai goes on, “so the best thing you can do as a friend is be patient, be understanding, he’s been through so much.”
Soobin wants to nod. He wants to agree with Kai. He wants to be understanding. God, he wants that so much right now. A lump forms in his throat. But he is painfully unaware of anything. Something has happened to Yeonjun. And he doesn’t know what it is. Something has happened to the person that used to be his best friend, a person that Soobin always believed he would love from the depths of his heart for as long as he lived. And he still does. He still loves Yeonjun so much that it hurts. Hurts to not know. Hurts to have his freezing fists banging on the ice wall, not knowing if Yeonjun is still on the other side. If he’s still breathing. If he’s still the same Yeonjun that Soobin owes his whole youth to.
So, Soobin can’t pretend he knows anymore.
“Kai, I don’t- I- What happened to Yeonjun hyung?” Soobin’s shaky voice breaks through the air.
“What?” Kai’s jaw drops. Genuine shock reads in his eyes. “He didn’t tell you?”
Every sound in the room rings in Soobin’s ears. Every passing second lays heavily on Soobin’s shoulders.
“Hyung, his parents died. Five years ago.”
———
Soobin never saw her with her hair down. She always had her dark brown hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. When she smiled her teeth showed gums and eyes turned into crescents. She was always well-dressed, pulled together, made Soobin wonder just how much effort was needed to be this presentable everyday. She never left the house without an umbrella, she hated getting soaked, avoided it at all costs. She also carried around a leather backpack, big enough to fit in multiple small lunchboxes that always had cut up fruit in them.
He was a rather short man. Soobin wondered if his wardrobe only consisted of light blue dress shirts. He wore thick framed glasses, those rectangular ones. He barely smiled but he spoke with admiration, so that it felt like he should have smiled. He knew a lot of facts about nature, only appeared passionate when he could teach about outdoor survival tips and tricks. He always had a handkerchief tucked in his shirt pocket, like a man from previous century would.
Sometimes Soobin would wonder if they had any similarities. They looked kind of different, talked kind of different. But there was one thing that they had in common.
Soobin’s eyes fall on Yeonjun.
The boy is sitting next to him in the back of the car, gazing out of the window at the mountains, hand placed under his chin. He appears to be thinking about something. What could he be thinking about?
“Healing, darling, do you want melon? Here, share some with Soobin, okay?” says a melodic voice coming from the front seat of the car.
Yeonjun’s mom passes the boys a box with melon cut in cubes. She smiles kindly at Soobin. She always smiled kindly. The wind from the window that is cracked open a bit blows through the loose strands of hair in front of her face.
Yeonjun accepts the box, thanks her and wiggles his eyebrows at Soobin. Soobin loves melon.
The green valleys, the blazing sun, the getaways. It’s summer. A hot summer. Such a hot summer that the only escape is being in water at all times. To which Yeonjun’s parents saw a great opportunity for a little trip to the seaside. To which then Yeonjun decided to beg his parents to let Soobin come too.
Okay so he didn’t have to beg. Yeonjun’s parents loved having Soobin around.
Yeonjun’s dad’s eyes are glued to the road. The AC in the car doesn’t work, the rolled down windows blow hot air in and out the car. It should feel suffocating, but it’s not. It feels freeing. Yeonjun’s dad taps his fingers on the wheel and Yeonjun’s mom hums a melody, taking an occasional glance back at her son and his best friend stuffing mouths full with melon. It all makes him feel giddy and joyful and boyish. The thrill of going somewhere new. The thrill of eating melon out of a box that's not his.
The car judders a little once the wheels begin running across a bridge.
“Son, do you remember this river? I took you fishing here,” his dad finds Yeonjun in rear-view mirror.
Yeonjun scrunches his nose, and Soobin holds back a giggle, wanting to pinch his nose but stops himself from doing so. Yeonjun hates fishing. But whenever his dad took him, he would try to engage as much as he could, knowing the smile it would put on his dad’s face. Soobin is guessing that is what having a father figure in your life is like.
Yeonjun pokes Soobin on the side to offer one of his earbuds. Soobin takes the earbud, puts it in his left ear, while Yeonjun puts it in his right, the white wire stretching just far enough between the boys. The car rocks them into drowsiness, the landscapes pass them by one after another, one after another. One more breathtaking than the other. And as Yeonjun presses play on his MP4 player, Soobin immediately recognises that it starts playing Wonderwall by Oasis, smiles softly and closes his heavy eyelids, letting the song and the summery day that awaits wash contentment all over him.
There are many things that I
Would like to say to you but I don’t know how
Because maybe
You’re gonna be the one that saves me
And after all
You’re my wonderwall
———
In a quite grim apartment complex Soobin halts to steady his pounding heart. Kai agreed to giving him the address where to find the one he’s looking for before Kai went off to meet another friend.
Soobin inhales. Exhales. Then rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands, dispelling the tears away. He buries the shock, buries the guilt, buries the worry, buries the ache, buries everything somewhere in his soul so that he can face Yeonjun. His steps are slow and careful, any minute it feels like the ground will open up and swallow him whole. Any minute he feels like he could shatter.
Three knocks on his door. Muffled steps from inside. Lock turning. The creak of the door opening. Unwanted teardrops at the corners of Soobin’s eyes again.
Choi Yeonjun. With hair parted, black as coal, contrasting the pale cheeks and cherry lips. It elevates his whole being, makes him look dashing, mature, irresistible. With few of the top buttons undone, a dress shirt half-tucked into beige sweatpants. With his eyes glistening and mouth agape.
Once again Soobin is breathless, but this time it’s not from the running.
He sees Yeonjun like for the first time. Sees the pain he’s carrying under his skin, sees the grief reflected in the depths of his eyes, sees the stories he never told and never will need to tell for Soobin to already see. He sees the Yeonjun of today, not the one in light blue hanbok in the pretty picture frame. He sees the whole being that he is, that he has become, the battles he has endured, the strength he found for them. He sees the Yeonjun that he will never let go of again.
Soobin’s chest heaves in unsteady breaths. Yeonjun wants to open his mouth to say something as his brows knit together in concern, but before he can, Soobin pushes the lunch box against Yeonjun’s chest.
The confusion slows down Yeonjun’s responses as he takes the box in his own hands like in slow motion, eyes darting from the box back to Soobin’s face.
“I-it’s fishcakes f-for you to eat,” Soobin mutters out.
“Soobin-”
“I am so sorry about your parents.”
A second. Two. Three. Words pound in Soobin’s head. Their eyes locked. Everything else disappears from view as the magnetic pull takes the reins, more powerful than it ever was.
Yeonjun crashes his body onto Soobin’s, knocking the air out of his lungs. In lightning speed he has his head buried in Soobin’s shoulder, arms wrapping tightly around him. Soobin reacts just as fast, his heart skips a beat as he takes hold of Yeonjun’s waist, sneaking his arms around him and tightening his grip, terrified of having him slip away. Yeonjun’s warm skin radiates the scent of freshly washed laundry, the one you have just taken out of the wash and it is almost intoxicating.
Their feet grow roots into ground and they stay, wrapped around one another, breathing in harmony, heartbeats thumping against each other’s chests in sync. And the fire that lights in Soobin’s chest melts the ice, the flames eat up the icicles, the icy walls begin to crumble down as they thaw, reducing them to mere droplets of water seeping into the wooden floorboards, evaporating into oblivion.
As the two bodies mould together, fire wins over ice every time.
Chapter Text
Every person has their story. Every human has some story, written for them, made for them that they stay true to. That’s what Soobin grew up naively believing.
Soobin’s story was successfully graduating high school and starting his studies to later find a job that would be worthwhile, that would make his mother proud. He knew he was meant to do everything in his power to never have to hear the word “disappointment” coming from his mother’s mouth. It seemed rather simple. It seemed that all he had to do was keep colossal mistakes at bay. All he had to do was maintain a “decent human being” status by sticking to “decent human being” routines and life choices. Ever since a conscious age Soobin committed to decisions that served him and people around him well.
Yet now the threat of breaking under mother’s expectations doesn’t seem that far of a stretch.
Up until now, nothing about this way of living was tedious. Sometimes the idea of being painfully average did creep up on him at night when his mind traveled to places that held that sort of free spirit and endless chases after what he wants, aches for, rather than what he is written for.
Chasing after stars, clasping each moment for the magic that it ignites - that is what young Soobin ached for. That is what he always received when his eyes met the other familiar ones.
Yeonjun was Soobin’s magic. Yeonjun enamoured Soobin with tricks that life does more than just consume all your resources, all your magic until leaving you high and dry at the brink of your inevitable obsolescence. Yeonjun enchanted Soobin, made him believe that life gives back, that life nourishes what you’ve planted when you truly have love for people, for yourself, for the thrill of it. Yeonjun helped him imagine life as he wanted it. Not as he was supposed to want it.
Then how did life turn its back on the only person that made Soobin believe in it? How did life twist Yeonjun’s story in the most horrid way? How come the boy who made magic out the simplest of things, created meaning out of the meaningless was left to suffer a life-altering tragedy at the very point when life was supposed to finally start for him? Why did he have to be the one stripped away from the most unconditional kind of love there is - the love of his parents? How come the boy who never ceased to shine, ceased to be his mother’s healing?
Soobin wants to scream at the sky until his voice dies, the shrieks reverberating and maybe, just maybe reaching the ears of the universe. Yeonjun was supposed to be a son. Yeonjun was supposed to be a student. Yeonjun was supposed to be fashion designer. Yeonjun was supposed to be an adventurer. Yeonjun was supposed to be a lover. Yeonjun was never supposed be an orphan.
It couldn’t have been written in Yeonjun’s story. It couldn’t.
And for the sake of peripeteia in Soobin’s own book, he only discovered about it all now.
Why didn’t you call?
Why didn’t you tell me?
Why couldn’t you just tell me?
You would’ve never had to be alone, so why did you choose to be?
Soobin wants to ask, but none of it comes past his lips.
He observes Yeonjun. He invited him in. Sat him by the dining table.
Yeonjun’s cheeks puff up when he chews on a large bite of the fishcake he heated up in the microwave. It might be the lighting playing tricks, but a rosy hue is spread across Yeonjun’s cheeks. He tilts his head backwards, throwing the coal black strands away from his face, as he blows on a particularly hot piece of food.
As he watches Yeonjun fill his stomach, chopsticks digging in the box over and over again, muttering “thank you” after every other bite, Soobin’s burning questions die. The last thing he wants is that delight in Yeonjun’s face to wash away.
Soobin’s heart doesn’t cease to race and he can’t understand why. It could be adrenaline. It could be the smell of Yeonjun’s perfume lingering on his sweater. Soobin still feels where their skin made contact and it’s a little too much. He props his head on his palm, cupping his own cheek, praying for the flush on his face to lose its colour. They had hugged millions of times before, so there was no reason for his body to be reacting this way.
Out of curiosity and to distract himself from Yeonjun, Soobin takes a look around the apartment. It is not a large apartment by any means, but for two people it would seem just enough. In Seoul an apartment as spacious as this would cost a fortune. The open floor plan makes it seem more roomy and, therefore, bigger than it actually is.
When he gets a whiff of the air, he kind of pinpoints some hints of peach cobbler and he wonders whether Yeonjun carries home the smell of Bean Fairy or a scented candle lays around somewhere. The whole place seems to be sparkling clean, minimal decor and some books placed neatly on the shelves and window sills. The kitchenette is rather small and the open shelves showcase a mismatch of mugs that all somehow go together in perfect harmony. A lone plate is left in the dish rack, the rest probably stacked away as soon as they were cleaned, in typical Yeonjun fashion. The dining table accompanied by only two chairs bears no stains or drink rings and Soobin knows if it came down to it he would feel a little embarrassed inviting Yeonjun in his own apartment.
Soobin is not messy, he is just not the biggest fan of cleaning. It sucks all of the energy out of him and he is left grousing to himself over a pile of dishes he neglects for days and then finally tackles after self-condemnation starts eating him up.
Soobin’s eyes land on a plushie laying face down on a light beige couch in the living room area. It looks like a huge bunny.
“Hey, that’s cute!” Soobin calls, pointing his finger at the toy.
Yeonjun lifts his head up from the meal and his eyes follow the trail of Soobin’s pointer finger.
“Oh,” he says, still chewing, “that’s one of Kai’s. At first I tried to keep all of his plushies out of the living room, but then he started protesting and we had to settle on one, maximum two plushies in living room at a time.”
“Compromise is a valuable skill to have,” Soobin returns and gets up to go grab the little guy from the couch. It is super soft to the touch and has two simple dots for eyes, which somehow makes him even more adorable.
“I know how important order is to you. Probably isn’t easy to share an apartment with someone else, right?” Soobin questions while squishing the bunny’s sides. He’s so soft that he’s almost wobbly.
“Kamal and I get along well and he respects the space we share. But this apartment has become sort of like a meeting spot. Beomgyu practically lives here and Taehyun comes over often too. One of these days I swear I’m going to stop calling it my apartment and start referring to it as community lot.”
Soobin laughs. “Like in the Sims?”
Yeonjun hums, smile spreading across his face. He sets down his chopsticks, finished with the meal.
Soobin walks back over and holds up the bunny plush in front of Yeonjun.
“Don’t you think he’s cute? Does he have a name?”
Yeonjun looks at the bunny, then at Soobin, then back at the bunny.
“Hmmm his name is…” Yeonjun scratches his chin in thought, “Binnie.”
Soobin’s eyes go wide.
“Binnie?”
“Yeah, because he kinda looks like Soobinie.”
Warmth rises to Soobin’s ears. He gives the bunny a glance. It has two front teeth sticking out as if it wasn’t obvious enough that yes, this is a bunny.
“I bet that you actually cuddle one of Kai’s plushies at night, but would never admit it,” Soobin teases playfully.
“Well… actually yeah,” Yeonjun gives in easily, grin growing wider.
“What, really?”
“They’re good cuddle buddies, okay!” Yeonjun flails his arms and Soobin’s bubbly laughter cuts through the air.
He hides his face behind the plushie and starts imitating the bunny’s voice in an exaggerated high pitch tone.
“You thinks I am cuddly?” Soobin, or rather Binnie asks, shoving the plushie closer to where Yeonjun is sitting.
“Oh my God,” Yeonjun facepalms.
Soobin budges the bunny closer.
“Okay, yes, you are very soft and cuddly!” Yeonjun exclaims, stroking the bunny’s head, “Want a kiss, Binnie?”
“Ummm, yes,” Soobin almost drops the naïve voice.
Holding up the toy, Soobin tilts his head to the side just in time to catch Yeonjun pucker his cherry lips and give Binnie an audible smack.
Soobin’s smile drops when his eyes fixate on Yeonjun’s lips. Is he wearing a tint?
He shakes his head before his mind can travel any further.
Soobin must’ve buffered for a while, because soon Yeonjun gets up from the stool and walks to the sink to rinse the lunchbox. He even puts on those ridiculously large pink gloves meant for dish washing. He sways his hips a little and quietly sings some DEAN song. He then dries the box with a kitchen towel, secures the lid on top.
“Thank your mom for this,” Yeonjun hands Soobin the box, but when Soobin grabs it Yeonjun doesn’t let go of it and neither does Soobin.
Something shifts in the air. Soobin has no more reason to stay. Yeonjun gave back the box and Soobin ought to leave now. But his feet are planted into the ground. He wants, desperately wants another reason to stay. Even if it’s only for a little while longer. They freeze like that, both still grabbing the box, Yeonjun just as hesitant as Soobin himself. There is mutual energy passing between them, an acknowledgement of some sort and Soobin counts the seconds, hoping that by each one Yeonjun will ask Soobin to stay.
When nothing comes, he pulls on the box, making Yeonjun’s fingers untangle from the grip and his arm drop to his side.
Already in half turn to the door Soobin starts: “Alright, then I’ll-”
“Soobinie, do you want some ice cream?” Yeonjun cuts him off.
Soobin bites back a smile, chewing on the inside of his cheek. A classic way to lure Soobin into anything.
“Of course!” he beams.
In the dingy hours of the night that overtook the gentle evening glow, a single street light is flickering, sending a bright ray dancing twitchily on the dark sidewalk. Soobin watches, vision growing weary, soon finds a beat in which the lamp flickers, tapping it absentmindedly on his thigh.
He hears a creak of doors and glances over to where Yeonjun exits the 24/7 convenience store, packs of ice cream clutched to his chest. The side of his face is illuminated green by the traffic light, but at this hour there are no cars powering through the streets.
When Yeonjun approaches the boy, he grabs one of the packs and throws it at him, resulting in Soobin almost falling over his feet in surprise as he (clumsily) catches the ice cream. Then follows another throw and then another, all of which Soobin can barely register but he manages to catch all of the ice creams flying in his direction and Yeonjun’s laughter echoes in the empty road.
“What is this some kind of ice cream invasion? And why did you buy so many?” Soobin asks, earning an unimpressed look from Yeonjun.
“You don’t have to pretend that you eat just one ice cream, Soobinie.”
“Damn, I’m getting called out.”
The boys sit down on a nearby bench, the metal is cool against their already chilling bodies. Yeonjun sits on top of the backrest, unlike Soobin who sits on the seat and they finish the ice cream in silence, Soobin stares at his worn out Vans, the freezing sensation numbing their brains. It’s late and the temperature has significantly dropped, both of the boys’ clothes deeming to be a little too thin for the chilly weather. And maybe eating ice cream is turning out to be not the most appropriate activity for a night like this.
“When you offered me ice cream, I thought you meant you had some at home,” Soobin admits, breaking the silence.
“Are you cold?” Yeonjun eyes Soobin with a hint of alarm.
“Starting to get a little.”
Despite the temperature, the remaining ice cream in Yeonjun’s hand begins to melt and Soobin’s eyes follow the trail of ice cream dripping down Yeonjun’s fingers and a visually vivid scene invades Soobin’s mind of how it would look like if Yeonjun were to lick it off of his fingers. It strikes Soobin how weird of a thought that is and how it certainly makes him feel weird. It’s like he catches his own mind in a shameful act.
Luckily, the inner spiralling of Soobin’s thoughts comes to a halt when a cold drop of rain falls on his thumb. Then another one on his nape. Soon the grey sidewalk is littered with little dots where rain has started to drop. Next to him, Yeonjun hasn’t made a move and neither has Soobin. It’s so peaceful. Serenity floods them. It’s just Soobin, Yeonjun and the flickering street light, and not even the precipitation can break through their haze.
Almost subconsciously, Soobin sticks out his tongue to catch the drops of rain, the action immediately making him feel like a kid. Yeonjun must’ve been watching Soobin, because he giggles, clasping a hand over his mouth. Then he pokes out his own tongue and catches the drops that there are more and more of falling from the sky every moment.
Yeonjun plants his feet on the seat of the bench and stands up, opens up his arms, welcoming the rainfall. Soobin follows Yeonjun, steps up on the bench too and stretches out his arms, closes his eyes, letting raindrops fall on his forehead, on his cheeks, on his lips, down his neck. It’s almost electrifying. The cold water awakens all of Soobin’s senses.
They don’t utter a word, haven’t in minutes. When Soobin’s eyes fall open they land on Yeonjun’s that are already staring into his. There’s a rain drop running down the bridge of Yeonjun’s nose and onto his lips.
Goosebumps run across Soobin’s body and he crosses his arms over his chest in an attempt to maintain some of his body warmth. But then Yeonjun is close, closer than a second before, grabbing the hood of Soobin’s sweatshirt and carefully lifting it over his head. Soobin can smell Yeonjun’s perfume again, but now together with a hint of fresh rainwater and Soobin wonders if there’s any way he could bottle up this scent for him to treasure.
“Don’t get too cold,” Yeonjun whispers and Soobin barely hears it over the rain that has started to pick up.
Yeonjun tangles his fingers in the strings of Soobin’s hoodie, then with a mischievous grin pulls on them, the hood tightening as fabric slides over Soobin’s eyes and then only his nose is poking out. Robbed of vision, Soobin tries to protest by shaking Yeonjun’s shoulders, but ends up only receiving Yeonjun’s snickering in return as he ties the strings together.
Soobin freezes when he feels a hot breath hit the tip of Soobin’s nose, realising Yeonjun must have gotten even closer.
It’s gone the next moment as the skies really start pouring and Soobin casts the hood off, but Yeonjun is no longer in front him. The boy has taken a head start, racing along the street through rain, loud chuckles filling the space, devoid of any other sound other than raindrops crashing on the ground and Yeonjun’s laughter.
Soobin hurries to climb down the bench, grabs the rest of ice creams and charges after the other boy, feet hitting the puddles that have started to pool on the sidewalk.
“Hyung!” he calls, running after Yeonjun’s silhouette.
“Soobin!” Yeonjun snaps his head around to yell back.
“Hyung, wait up!”
Yeonjun slows down his pace as Soobin catches up. There’s a grin plastered on Yeonjun’s face, his huffs of breath are forming little clouds in the air and Soobin can’t stop himself from smiling back.
Yeonjun reaches out to wrap his fingers around Soobin’s wrist and next moment they are dashing through the flooding streets together, soaking wet, shaky exhales and uncontrollable giggles.
“Hyung, where are we- isn’t your apartment the other wa-” Soobin squawks, stops himself to pay attention to the puddles beneath their feet, eyes darting from the road to Yeonjun’s hand around his.
He registers the path that Yeonjun leads them on and his suspicions confirm when they stop abruptly in front of Bean Fairy.
Yeonjun rushes to fish the keys out of this pocket, but at this point time is of no value anymore, both of them are drenched and panting for more air.
Once the lock turns, they step inside, Yeonjun disarms the alarm. It’s dark and warm, the only source of light coming from street lights outside. Rain knocks on the windows, their ragged breaths stabilise after a while and Yeonjun goes to the back to switch on the wall lights behind the counter.
The place lights up in a warm hue and Soobin realises he has never seen the café like this. It is as if Bean Fairy is showing him different colours every time he steps foot inside and he doesn’t think there’s any just about this place anymore. It’s intertwined with too many memories to ever be absent of colour.
“I’ll make us some tea. God, Soobinie, you must be freezing, your hand was so cold,” worry laces Yeonjun’s tone.
“What about you then?”
“I’m fine,” Yeonjun whispers weakly and gets to work on making the tea.
He feels warmth traveling down his throat as he sips on the camomile tea, his whole body relaxes as he wraps his hands around the steaming cup.
Yeonjun disappears to the kitchen to put leftover ice cream in the freezer and returns with two pieces of red velvet cake on paper plates. He sets one down in front of Soobin and with a smirk allows him to “dig in”.
They both decide to wait for the rain to die down to go home, but when it does stop, they still stay. They stay in each other’s company, Yeonjun makes more tea and Soobin grazes his eyes all over Yeonjun, mapping and memorising every detail of this Yeonjun, tired but content, sighing light-heartedly, light dancing on his skin beautifully as he angles his head to the side, hoping that this human would never be hurting again. That nothing and no one would ever dare harm him.
They stay there talking about everything and nothing in particular. Soobin talks about Seoul, Yeonjun listens. Yeonjun talks about Bean Fairy, Soobin listens. He always found it easy to listen to Yeonjun.
It is when it gets so late that it’s early, Soobin decides it would be reasonable to head home and give both of them some rest. Before going he excuses himself to the bathroom, but in the dark hallway of staff area confuses himself with the doors and enters the wrong room. As soon as his eyes adjust to the dark, he realises he has been in the room before. It is that odd storage room he stumbled upon the day after the party, filled with furniture and tools completely unused.
He stands in the doorway, left wondering again when a voice from behind startles him.
“It’s for a renovation,” Yeonjun states.
“A renovation? For Bean Fairy?”
Yeonjun hums in approval. He leans over Soobin’s shoulder to observe the stuff in the room, his chest almost brushing against Soobin’s back, but not quite. Soobin feels every painful centimetre separating them. Every painful centimetre of not quite. His heart rate picks up just at the proximity alone and he curses under his breath for having his body react this way. Unwillingly.
“W-Why haven’t you done it yet?” Soobin stammers.
“I just… I just can’t bring myself to. I have… I have a lot of other work.”
Yeonjun leans in more and his chest presses gently against Soobin’s back and he swears he will go haywire with the way heat courses through his body at the contact. Yeonjun probably hadn’t even noticed how close they’ve gotten, he sighs so close to the shell of Soobin’s ear that it has goosebumps spreading across his skin and he cannot understand and he cannot explain and he cannot do this.
So he takes a step forward, into the dark room, leaving the captivating warmth of Yeonjun behind.
He scans the room just so he can compose himself and clear his head. There are chairs, there are cans of paint, lamps, table tops, lots of wires and panels and tiles. All sitting there, neglected, coated with a layer of dust. All sitting there waiting for when they see the light of day. And Bean Fairy waiting there, deserving of being polished. Deserving of the adornment. Deserving of a new beginning.
And Yeonjun. It’s Yeonjun’s. His new beginning too.
As the dawn approaches with a promise of a new day, an idea strikes Soobin. It is so sudden, that he can’t even wrap his head around it, before he turns to Yeonjun, eyes glistening with glee.
“Hyung, let me do the renovation.”
“Come again?” Yeonjun eyes widen in surprise.
“I’ll renovate Bean Fairy! With what you got here!”
Yeonjun scratches his head, contemplating.
“No, no I can’t have you just renovate my café all alone. Soobinie, it’s late and you’re sleep deprived and you say you wanna-”
Soobin cuts him off with a smirk until that smirk grows into a full on grin as he pulls his eyebrows suggestively.
“What are you saying then, hyung? Let’s do it together.”
Notes:
fluff? i hardly know her. but enjoy my attempt ahaha
chapter title inspired by taylor swift's out of the woods
feeling like posting twice a week now, we'll see
Chapter 10: magic of the fort
Notes:
easily one of my favorite chapters in this story
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
message to hoonie <3
soobin:
hey hey are you up
you’re prolly not
when you are can i hear your voice
sent 4:57 am
His sore eyes burn from the light of his phone screen. Soobin tosses and turns on the mattress. Readjusts the position of his limbs five times a minute. Gauges the hours until sunrise. Flips his pillow over and over, but neither one of the sides is the cool one.
He chases sleep like a race car on a highway, getting more and more agitated by every passing moment, becoming more and more tired at his failed efforts.
He could count sheep, but all of the sheep have ran away. The sheep float over glimmering, starry fields, uncountable, abstract, they’re tiptoeing around the edge of abyss. As soon as these first signs of slumber appear, Soobin’s whole body jolts awake and he has to stop himself from cursing out loud.
message to hoonie <3
soobin:
whoever invented counting sheep was a fraud
sorry, i didn’t mean to send that
or i did
sent 5:09 am
He plants the thought of Sunghoon in his head, wishing on every star out in the sky tonight that it grows roots, that it grows roots healthy and strong and that pretty flowers will surely bloom, so vibrant and so alluring that Soobin will only ever care to admire these flowers. That he will not have eyes for any other flowers. That he will not see any other face as soon as his eyes fall shut.
He stares at the contact name hoonie <3 until his eyes get irritated, feeds himself a mantra, hoping that by every time he repeats the same words over and over again they will become true. They will settle everything into reality.
It feels so wrong. An omnipresent force tears him apart, scrutinises each cry of the heart, strips him off of his own control. He is exhausted.
message to hoonie <3
soobin:
i am a fraud
message deleted
Exhaustion bested little Soobin. Yet his prayers went unheard, his fights turned out to be in vain. Still the last cohesive thought his brain latched onto before finally drifting to sleep was Yeonjun.
In the morning beams that poke through the window, dust is dancing around the room. Soobin’s drowse is cut short by a sound of a text incoming. He rubs his eyes and tries to force his body awake. He assumes it’s Sunghoon responding to Soobin’s middle-of-the-night antics, but when he manages to crack open his eyes and adjust to the morning sun, he is surprised to read Taehyun’s name on the screen.
taehyun:
Good morning, hyung. Can you meet me at Bean Fairy in 40 minutes?
It is quite out of the blue and Soobin instantly comes up with the worst case scenario as to why Taehyun wants to meet up. But he quickly throws it out of the window when realising the time sensitive matter and jumps up from his mattress to search for some clothes, not forgetting to shoot Taehyun a text of agreement back.
Soobin has had way too little hours of sleep to thrust himself into a conversation first thing in the morning. He clings onto his steaming cup of black coffee, seeking for its magic to come into effect. A yawn comes out before he is able to stop it. He focuses his eyes on the boy sitting in front of him.
Taehyun himself doesn’t seem fit for speaking yet, replacing the conversation starter phrases with congenial silence. The blonde-haired boy has thrown on a striped wool sweater, one that looks to have fallen victim to premature pilling. The loose sleeves of the sweater fall over his hands and Taehyun’s usual size appears to have shrunk a few times over. It strangely ignites protectiveness in Soobin, a mother instinct setting in that he never knew he had.
The sleep-deprived brain proves to not be Soobin’s ally, however. His gaze keeps unintentionally falling on the male in the back, stacking the mugs on top of the heated coffee machine behind the counter. He can’t miss the bags under Yeonjun’s eyes, an expected aftermath of their all-nighter. The white dress shirt has creases on the sleeves, his movements are slow and eyes droopy, yet he gifts Soobin a faint smile every time their eyes meet.
Soobin stiffens, feeling at fault for keeping Yeonjun up at night.
Next to him is Kai, substantially more chipper in his manoeuvre around the bar. He must be there to help Yeonjun, he stows the deliciously smelling green tea tarts one by one on the display, stopping the action every once in a while to poke Yeonjun’s side accompanied with series of giggles, to which he earns a snort and crinkle of eyes from Yeonjun in return. Soobin guiltily averts his eyes from the two, swallowing down a feeling that he is really starting dislike.
“So I wanted to-” Taehyun begins, but gets interrupted by Soobin’s phone buzzing on the table.
Soobin shoots a quick side glance to the lit up phone screen. It’s a message from Sunghoon.
hoonie <3:
i’m up now, you wanted to talk?
Soobin decides to ignore it for now, sets his phone to silent mode and flips it over so that he can return to Taehyun distraction-free.
“You were saying?”
“Yeah, so,” Taehyun clears his throat, “I got offered a summer internship…”
Soobin listens, sensing that the point is about to follow.
“… in Japan.”
“Oh? In Japan? Well, that’s great, isn’t it?”
Taehyun hums.
“What kind of internship?” Soobin inquires further.
“Human Resource Management. It is a big deal for me, the competition was tight for that internship spot.”
“Congratulations!” Soobin muses and gives him a few claps.
Soobin notes the stiff position in which Taehyun sits, knowing him well enough to recognise it as sign of nervousness. It is generally hard to get a read on Taehyun, his body language gives very little away. He situates his hands on the table and the eye contact is not prone to waver one bit, but if one pays close attention, it is exactly then that Taehyun’s eyes reveal depths of vulnerability and uncertainty.
“Thanks, but it is not actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” right on cue Taehyun’s demeanour starts to crack.
Soobin only nods, giving him the green light to continue.
“I actually wanted to ask for your…” Taehyun grimaces, chewing the words in his mouth before spitting out, “love advice.”
In bewilderment, Soobin eyes grow wide.
“You know, ever since the party Beomgyu hyung has been acting all weird. And I can’t seem to get through to him, I don’t think he even wants to talk to me anymore. Hyung, do you know what he texted me when I asked him what is up?”
Soobin shakes his head.
“He sent me a thumbs up! Yeah, you heard that right! The Beomgyu who takes any chance he gets to talk about his feelings gave me a thumbs up!” Taehyun whisper-shouts, cautious for any curious ears around them.
Soobin soaks in the souring mood of his friend, trying to grasp the severity of a “thumbs up” from Beomgyu.
“I think he could be letting me down easy, what do you think? But I am still so confused and it’s making me feel heavy. And I don’t want to feel heavy and uncertain for the whole summer when I am away.”
Ah, there it is.
There is the connection between Beomgyu and the internship abroad. Soobin can understand Taehyun’s urgency, he gets the restlessness from not knowing anything, only the fact that there is a timer ticking at the expense of your feelings.
It kind of hits close to home.
Soobin takes a breath.
“I think that you’ve been holding these feelings in for such a long time that they are starting to nip at you. And I can’t see how that is good for you,” he finally finds something to respond with.
Taehyun nods thoughtfully, weighing the implications of what Soobin just said.
Another silence settles between them, this one way less tranquil and Soobin is eager to break them out of it.
“But what made you come to me for advice?” he decides to ask, truly wondering.
“Isn’t it an obvious choice? You’re the only one of us in an actual relationship.”
Soobin almost burns his tongue due to accidentally slurping in a mouthful of his coffee too fast.
The relationship in question is currently tied to a time bomb, bound to explode at any minute. That relationship is where both parties put off having a normal discussion. That relationship is the one that surrenders to a thing called long-distance.
How’s that for a reality check?
Soobin is shaken back into present moment by Yeonjun’s low laughter echoing through the half empty Bean Fairy that he quickly learns is caused by Kai’s skittish hands tickling all over his abdomen.
“Are you sure I am the only one?”
The question slips out of Soobin before he can stop himself.
He kind of wants to slap a hand over his mouth.
Taehyun turns his head to look for whatever Soobin’s intense stare is directed towards and when he finds it, he snaps his head back around, disbelief written all over his face.
“What, Yeonjun hyung and Kai?!” he cries in a hushed voice.
Soobin looks at anywhere but Taehyun, the colour of his ears hinting at his embarrassment.
“Hyung, where did you get the idea that those two have something going on? I mean, they did kiss once, but-”
“What?!” Soobin bursts out.
“It clearly meant nothing though, it was just part of some drinking game,” Taehyun explains.
Soobin and Yeonjun had also kissed once. It was also supposed to mean nothing.
Then why did Soobin’s heart plummet?
Why was there something itching under his skin?
Soobin draws out a long exhale, desperate for a topic change, willing to take matters in his own hands and shift the focus back to his friend’s love life situation.
“Taehyun-ah,” he starts demanding Taehyun’s eyes to perk up, “in case your feelings are not returned, would you rather go away with a heart heavy with uncertainty or with a broken heart?”
The best advice you can give is the one you should take yourself, Soobin’s mother had said.
Taehyun seems to earnestly deliberate over this query, and with great difficulty he swallows and finally speaks out his answer.
“I would rather be heartbroken.”
Taehyun’s words ring in Soobin’s ears and his eyes slip to find Yeonjun again, it’s unintended, out of his control, it’s the law of nature, it’s the pull, it’s million other forms of pretence Soobin could find.
“Because maybe then I could finally start moving on,” Taehyun finishes, voice gone small.
Soobin drags his eyes back to Taehyun. The gut-wrenching honesty and the resolute inclination to accept, to welcome the truth for whatever it may be - it all reflects in Taehyun’s hopeless stare as clear as ice crystals on a frozen lake.
“Then I think you should tell him how you feel.”
A beat.
“But how?”
“I may have a hunch. Meet me at Yeonjun hyung’s apartment at 8 pm tonight.”
message to hoonie <3
soobin:
hi i’m free now should we talk
hoonie <3:
can’t, going into practice right now, ttyl
Soobin has been trying to get hold of Sunghoon the whole day, but their timing turns out to be wrong each and every time. The vague messages burn in his pocket and it does little to ease his anxiety. He lets out a defeated sigh.
“So, let me get this straight,” Yeonjun’s voice cuts through, “you told Taehyun to meet you here, and then you asked me to ask Beomgyu to meet me here too, so now they have no idea that they will actually be meeting each other?”
“That’s the gist of it,” Soobin confirms with a timid smile, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.
“And for what exactly?”
“For Taehyunie to finally confess to Beomgyu.”
The confusion is quickly wiped off of Yeonjun’s face and now he is smirking ear-to-ear, flirtatiously propping his chin on his fist.
“Now we’re talking!”
Soobin would be lying if he said that Yeonjun’s reaction to this admission didn’t ignite a boyish giddiness in himself. Kai is spending the night at his parents’ home as he sometimes does and Yeonjun has the apartment to himself.
“Why here though?” asks Yeonjun.
“Well, first of all because this is a community lot like you said,” Soobin releases a breathy laugh at Yeonjun rolling his eyes, “and second of all, because we need enough space.”
“Space for what?”
“Since we need them to have a private, secluded place for a chat, we are building them a blanket fort.”
And the gleam that enters Yeonjun’s chocolate brown eyes is already a response stronger than any other.
———
“What the-” the boy studies the mismatch of blankets draped over half of his bedroom, held up by strings and secured over chairs.
An architectonic wonder finds itself in Soobin’s bedroom and he is honestly in awe, eyeing every little detail that lead to this impressive result.
Soobin wonders if it really is his room or maybe he missed the part where he entered a magical realm of flying carpets and fantastical transformations. But the plot twist of Soobin’s life is that he does, in fact, live in magical realism, the only plausible explanation to an immediate draw to the only source of light underneath the hill of blankets.
Soobin rubs his puffy eyes, all bloodshot from crying just a moment ago and he is about to allow his body get sucked into the realm of the mysterious fort when he hears a voice coming from inside of it.
“No trespassing! Unless you know the password.”
Soobin smiles. He already knew as soon as he entered the room. Yeonjun is behind the magic.
“Ummm stinky feet 553?” Soobin detains a giggle at his guess. That is the only mutual password him and Yeonjun share.
“You may enter,” the voice from inside announces solemnly.
That’s when Soobin’s whole world stained with worry and adversity is reduced to one single, warm, brightly lit fort. With cross-legged Yeonjun waiting for him, flashing the most inviting smile.
He’s home.
Chest floods with luminescence, filling up his lungs to the brim with soft feathers, that if he bursts, it will rain fluff.
And he might as well just burst.
“Thought we were a little too old for forts,” the freshly-turned 15-year-old Soobin whispers, scanning the fairy-light covered “ceiling”, exposing the collision of patterns from all the different blankets.
“I figured you might need some cheering up,” Yeonjun says softly, then opens his arms, inviting Soobin in an embrace.
Soobin falls into Yeonjun and they become one. Soobin breathes in Yeonjun and he feels the weight of the day finally beginning to subside just as a new pair of hot tears roll down his cheeks.
Yeonjun pulls back, then with a swipe of his thumb, wipes the tears away from Soobin’s face. The small contact sends an unexpectedly great amount of tranquility over Soobin.
“Guess now we know that hiding a hedgehog from your mom is not the best idea,” Yeonjun mutters, stroking a thumb over Soobin’s earlobe over and over until the boy visibly calms.
“I can’t believe she took him away!” Soobin cries, all too bitter and upset. Maybe one day he will laugh at his ridiculous idea of adopting a pet hedgehog, but now all he can think about is just how unfair it was of his mom to take the little animal away without even hearing out Soobin’s reasoning of why he could make a great hedgehog dad.
“It sucks,” Yeonjun breathes out, “maybe one day when you have your own place you can have a pet hedgehog, but for now I have something for you.”
Soobin watches Yeonjun closely, as he pulls something from behind him.
Yeonjun holds up a little hedgehog plushie. It’s tiny, fits in the palm of the hand, the brown quills are small bits of fabric sticking out of the spine, soft to the touch.
“This one she won’t take away,” Yeonjun assures in a quiet tone.
Soobin’s heart is full.
He searches for words he can’t find.
So he surges forward, tackling Yeonjun, hands finding the purchase of Yeonjun’s shirt as he wraps himself around the other boy once again.
The swift action draws out a tiny yelp from Yeonjun and both boys fall backwards, Yeonjun on his back and Soobin on top of him.
It doesn’t even take a second for Soobin to acknowledge this position, because that very moment he realises that their sudden relocation backwards has accidentally pulled on one of the blankets, resulting in their little house of cards crumbling down.
It is quite the domino effect. One pull and heaps of colourful sheets are falling down on them, Soobin rolls away from Yeonjun, accepts the fate of having multiple layers of fabric drop over their bodies along with strings of lights.
Yeonjun is the first to start laughing at the mishap, loud chuckles muffled by the sheets and Soobin joins, soon their ribs hurt from the laughing and they come to a still, chests heaving.
Soobin rolls to his side, stretches out his hand to hold up the blanket over them, revealing Yeonjun next to him, bit of teeth peeking through an amused smile, hair tousled, a chain of lights crossed over his cheek, eyes shining sparkly gold like fairy dust.
And Soobin thinks he has never seen Yeonjun more beautiful than in this moment.
It knocks a breath out of Soobin’s lungs. The little world of Yeonjun and Soobin just shrunk to centimetres, a tight space with no air but their breaths and a single sheet covering their skies.
It is then when Soobin first meets the feeling.
The feeling he will grow to recognise faster. More often.
It’s the feeling that tugs at his heart, makes it race faster when Yeonjun’s dark eyelashes flutter, when he darts his eyes across Soobin’s face.
It’s the feeling that itches on his very fingertips, urging to touch, to trace every inch of Yeonjun’s skin, to explore every crease, every crevice, to map out every detail of Yeonjun’s body.
It's the feeling that pulls, that deems the distance agonising, that challenges Soobin to break it, to give in and allow his lips to meet Yeonjun’s.
It’s the feeling that makes him burn, flames of desire gliding across his skin, that makes him want to melt into Yeonjun.
And it’s that feeling about his best friend that Soobin cannot accept.
It’s that feeling that he learns to deny every time.
———
“Okay, now hold it, hold it,” Yeonjun commands while attempting to tie a rope around one of the sheet’s corner, “What, Soobinie, you were supposed to hold it!”
Without much thinking, Soobin lets go of his corner of the sheet, both boys watch how it slides down the backrest of a chair and Yeonjun groans, but there are no signs of actual frustration in his response, rather just light amusement.
“Sorry, hyung, I thought it would hold up,” Soobin admits in defeat, realising the stupidity of this statement.
Yeonjun pauses, an idea generating, then motions Soobin to go into his bedroom and fetch some books for an additional support to the blanket fort.
Soobin does as told, but his intention slips his mind as soon as he steps into Yeonjun’s bedroom, a place Soobin completely forgets he has never been invited into up until now. To say that the room reflects Yeonjun would be an understatement.
Looking back, the room that Yeonjun spent his childhood years in, that Soobin practically could call his second home, exhibited particles of Yeonjun, scattered here and there. The room that Soobin finds himself in now is a different kind of display of the older boy. The air is laced with his cotton perfume, a closet the size of Soobin’s first apartment in Seoul is situated against one wall of the room, along with an additional rack, nearly bent with the amount of hangers of clothes it supports. The colours of the items of clothing in the open are coordinated, no nails sticking out that need hammering down. The other side of the room is taken up by a mattress on the floor, a white sheet tucked away at the corners neatly, grey bedding absent of creases smoothened atop the thick mattress. A healthy-looking areca palm that stretches up to Soobin’s waist, revives the grey tones of the space with a polarising presence. Vinyls adorn the otherwise bleak white walls and Soobin squints to recognise some of the artists’ names from whenever he would flick through the song selection on Yeonjun’s MP4 player all those years back.
Perhaps, what catches Soobin’s eye the most is the wide white bookshelf that he searches his brain to find somewhere in his memory of Yeonjun’s old house, considering that it bares that sort of distinctiveness that no furniture from IKEA would possess. Every item on this shelf, down to the littlest detail, sits in a well thought out place, starting from a neat stack of bucket hats to a chain of identical notebooks stacked on the highest shelf, all in a row. Upon closer inspection, it dawns on him that what he's looking at is actually Yeonjun’s lengthy collection of journals, since on each of the spines he finds Yeonjun’s orderly handwriting, stating the full date of the time period, in which the journal must have been used.
Soobin is mesmerised by the unwavering determination to commit to an activity for years, as he traces his eyes along the row of notebooks, he spots something peculiar in the sequence of the journals. They are all lined up in chronological order, yet somewhere in the middle there seems to be a time gap. Before the skip, the last journal dates back to five years and the one that follows appears to be from only two years ago. He’s struck by dangerous curiosity. Why would the-
“Soobin-ah, what’s the hold up? Come quick, I need help,” a voice from living room calls.
Rushed, Soobin grabs a handful of books from one of the bottom shelves, wincing at how the remaining books collapse and dismantle the perfect order.
Back in the living room where Yeonjun is covertly struggling to keep the blankets from sliding down, Soobin is pulled away from the sentiment of Yeonjun’s room, he is again in the community lot, as Yeonjun had named it and all of a sudden this label rings true. The only space that is truly private for Yeonjun in this apartment, is the one place where Yeonjun truly exists.
“I think that looks good, no?” Yeonjun eyes their work after it had been fully set up.
“Isn’t it a bit small?”
“For your tall ass, maybe,” Yeonjun chortles, immediately putting up his hands in defence, knowing that a jab from Soobin is about to follow.
It’s a classic Yeonjun comeback, Soobin is aware, yet the particular way in which Yeonjun’s eyes crinkle as a teasing comment escapes his lips, screams old times. And every impulse in Soobin wants to act out and sling an arm around Yeonjun’s small waist, pull him closer, finding a friendly poke to the side not satisfactory enough.
The rational mind fails to react before his body does, as the very next moment his movements follow up to his train of thought and Soobin has an arm around Yeonjun’s waist, tugging him towards himself, landing them hip to hip.
As anticipated, the action makes Yeonjun jump, mouth slightly ajar and eyes falling on Soobin’s face. Soobin’s own eyes follow the movement of Yeonjun’s as they slide across his face, lingering on his nose, his cheek, his neck, his lips. Soobin can’t bring himself to look away.
Everywhere where Yeonjun’s eyes land it tingles.
He licks his dry lips, not missing the way Yeonjun catches sight of his tongue gliding over his bottom lip. Soobin really believes that his heart has stopped beating.
“Hi,” Yeonjun whispers, soundless.
The word ghosts over Soobin’s lips and his breath catches in his throat.
“Hey,” he barely manages, the sound coming out more of a sigh.
Time ceases to exist in this close of a presence. Yeonjun’s lips are right there, rosy and plush, and Soobin’s mind travels there, unwillingly.
If he could just lean in and-
Intrusively, the contact name with a heart on his phone seizes his mind. Soobin forcibly breaks away from Yeonjun, as swift as if he had just burned himself and Yeonjun is the culprit.
There is a dauntingly awkward moment of silence where Soobin doesn’t know where to put his eyes, so he ends up staring at the floorboards, hears Yeonjun clear his throat stiffly, but the sound seems far away from Soobin’s ears and he doesn’t dare look back up and read the expression on his hyung’s face.
“I guess now we wait for them, then,” Yeonjun rasps.
Much to Soobin’s luck, that wait is over quicker than expected, the door springs open and in comes Beomgyu, long dark hair tied into half ponytail, leather jacket slung around his broad shoulders, black shorts and combat boots contrasting his porcelain legs nicely.
Beomgyu is drop dead gorgeous, no need to look twice to acknowledge it as a fact.
He widens his eyes, surprised by the company, but then eases into a smile and greets Soobin too.
After the boy has taken his shoes off, Yeonjun drags him by the hand and disregarding the long-haired male’s protests, guides him into the fort.
Beomgyu pulls his lips in a thin line, eyes both of them expectantly, awaiting an explanation of some sort.
“Now stay there,” Yeonjun instructs and retreats a few steps back, pulling Soobin along with him.
Beomgyu opens his mouth to likely question the weird situation he finds himself in, but Yeonjun shushes him and orders to just stay put.
Yeonjun and Soobin back away into Yeonjun’s room, closing the door, but keeping a crack open just so that they can monitor what is going on in the living room.
They situate themselves on the floor by the door, sitting with feet planted on the floor and legs bent at the knees opposite of each other and a rush of adrenaline kicks up Soobin’s heart rate.
“You know, this was my idea, but I see you have taken the reins,” Soobin whispers, offering a sly smile.
“You don’t know how frustrating it is to listen to Beomgyu whine about Taehyun non-stop,” Yeonjun groans, keeping his voice in a hushed tone, so that Beomgyu doesn’t hear a thing.
Soobin nods in understanding.
“And of course, I wanna help out my friends, so it’s not like I only care about my gain, no, no,” Yeonjun smirks, a warm glow from the desk lamp swirls in his brown eyes.
Soobin stifles a laugh and Yeonjun’s posture loosens, he moves closer to Soobin, absentmindedly slides his legs forward so that Yeonjun’s knees are enveloped by Soobin’s legs on either side. It appears an almost subconscious motion judging by the nonchalance on Yeonjun’s features, but none of these changes in position go unnoticed by Soobin.
He cannot ignore the warmth radiating off of Yeonjun, it’s almost too distracting, but once again Soobin is saved by the bell, or rather, by the door, because they hear a soft click of front door opening and closing shut.
It must be Taehyun.
The apartment falls incredibly silent and Soobin wonders if Beomgyu is even still there or if their mission is going to fail miserably, but his doubts soon fade at Beomgyu’s hesitant tone of voice finally pouring out.
“Taehyun-ah?”
“Beomgyu hyung?”
The corner of Soobin’s mouth twitches. He looks at Yeonjun to see that same smug smile reflected on Yeonjun’s lips too.
“Soobin hyung wanted to meet me- What is all this?”
“Yeonjun hyung told me to come here.”
Soobin’s ears are attentive to what is spoken in the living room but his eyes never leave Yeonjun.
It’s that state where realisation hits them.
“Looks like we have fallen into their trap,” the voice of Taehyun tsks.
“Dummies,” Soobin barely catches Beomgyu muttering.
“Well, we’re the real dummies… Falling for it.”
“Pretend we’re not here! Just talk to each other!” Soobin finds it in him to shout.
The atmosphere grows silent again, all he can hear is Yeonjun’s heavy breathing. He almost forgot how close they are sitting. Almost.
Soobin decides this is where they leave Beomgyu and Taehyun to themselves and instead he turns his focus to Yeonjun, who is leaning an ear closer the door and with brows knit together tries to decipher what their friends might be saying.
When he catches Soobin staring at him, his expression changes. His eyes turn softer and he is wearing that smile again that Soobin doesn’t entirely know the meaning of.
Soobin searches for words carefully, sensing that it’s high time he brings back up the idea from last night. He’s looking for the right approach with caution, so that Yeonjun would consider what he offers seriously this time.
“See, if we can build a fort out of blankets and set our friends up, we can definitely redo Bean Fairy,” Soobin goes with this choice of words, lighthearted but determined.
Yeonjun bites the inside of his cheek. His chest falters.
Something twists in Soobin’s stomach. He’s not willing to let this go just yet.
“Why the hesitance?” Soobin asks warily, not really recognising his own voice.
A long sigh rolls out of Yeonjun’s pretty lips.
“Soobinie, I appreciate what you want to do for me,” he says honestly.
“But?”
Long pause.
“But I really and I mean really don’t want to be your pity project.”
What?
Yeonjun’s eyes drop in shame and it feels like Soobin is taking a good punch to his stomach. He worries his lip between his teeth, contemplating on how to respond.
“What makes you think that?” he can only ask.
“Well, for starters you just learned about my parents,” Yeonjun’s features twist in some sort of new emotion Soobin cannot decode, “and then you offer to do this thing for me and well… I can’t help but think you see me as a despondent child that barely gets by without the help of everyone else. And I would hate for you to see me like that.”
It all kind of clicks together for Soobin.
He puts a hand over Yeonjun’s that is sitting on his knee. The innocent touch gifts his stomach a flip.
Yeonjun lifts his head up again and his gaze meets Soobin’s again. And once more Soobin sees worlds in Yeonjun’s orbs. Endless stories of loss, endless stories of joy, endless stories of strength. Stories that Soobin could listen to all day, stories that Soobin respects Yeonjun enough to never actually get to hear. He sees a glint that he is aching to protect.
He wishes there was a way to show it all to Yeonjun, to have him see himself the way Soobin sees him.
Then none of these insecurities would have to pop up.
But alas, Soobin only has his actions to prove so.
“Hyung, nothing could make me see you differently.”
Yeonjun gulps. Then, “Really?” Voice small and vulnerable.
But Soobin knows how much strength it requires to be this vulnerable.
And Yeonjun is the strongest person he knows.
“You’re the strongest person I know,” he decides to reveal that to him, “But you do need help. Not with everything. But with this.”
Yeonjun lets his eyelids fall shut, wrinkles his forehead. Soobin catches himself wanting to lean in and kiss it away.
Then he opens his eyes and they are set.
“Okay.”
Before Soobin can properly react, the faint sound of lips smacking make their heads snap towards the door. They both simultaneously crouch down by the door, heads bump together as they try to share that little strip of vision they get, looking to locate the source of that suspicious sound.
With one eye peeking through the crack he distinguishes two figures inside the blanket fort. Taehyun and Beomgyu. Kissing?
“They’re kissing!” Soobin hisses.
“Oh my God, oh my God,” Yeonjun almost squeals. He holds up his palm, giving Soobin a high five.
“Let’s go surprise them,” Yeonjun suggests, lifting an eyebrow devilishly.
Yeonjun sneaks out of the room with noiseless steps and Soobin follows suit.
Taehyun and Beomgyu sit cross-legged, their mouths pressed to one another’s, lips moving diligently, Taehyun’s hand has found its way in Beomgyu’s hair and Beomgyu has his secured on Taehyun’s waist.
As soon as they sense silhouettes looming over them, an unwanted company, they spring away from each, caught in the act. Taehyun stumbles out of the fort, right after Beomgyu does too and they stand there both ridiculously red in the face, looking away.
Soobin would pour out a light laugh if it weren’t for Yeonjun screaming “Congratulations!” and sure, it is a little over the top and a little extra, but this is Yeonjun we are talking about.
The boys in front of him hold a strained distance, then Beomgyu narrows his eyes, clearly missing something.
“Congratulations? H-he just k-kissed me, that’s it,” Beomgyu stutters with a certain level of gloom, yet his face is still covered in a rosy hue.
Taehyun’s doe eyes go wide. And now it’s Soobin’s turn to feel heat rise to his cheeks.
You didn’t tell him?! Soobin sends Taehyun a look.
Taehyun looks back at him, alarmed, and it reads I panicked, okay??
Or at least Soobin reads it that way.
Then he slowly turns his head to Yeonjun, who looks just as surprised by the whole turnout of events.
They share a look that says,
Maybe we misread this one.
Yeonjun almost breaks out in an anxious grin, but clasps a hand over his mouth in time and a telepathic message must have translated between them because they both decide to bolt to the door at the exact same time, leaving Taehyun and Beomgyu behind, confused as ever.
They nudge each other’s sides as they make a run for it, eventually, as they are flying down the stairs to the safety of the outside, throaty laughter erupts from their ribcages and bounces around the staircase.
Through cackles and pants, they try to catch their breaths. Sun has set and in the darkening streets lit by scarce street lamps, there’s only two of them again.
Until there’s not.
Soobin’s phone buzzes in his pocket. It burns a hole in pocket and maybe in his heart too, he regains enough breath to muster up the courage to answer. He doesn’t even have to glance at the caller ID to know who’s calling.
“Hi, Hoonie!” Soobin chirps in the phone, backing away a safe distance from Yeonjun.
“Hey, hyung,” he hears a sigh on the other hand.
They just kept missing each other.
A whole day of succumbing to poor timing. Three weeks of being beaten down by long distance. It weighs heavily on Soobin’s back. In the depths of his heart he knows a relationship can never last like that. He is aware of what breaks them.
But what makes them?
Soobin runs a hand through his raven hair, phone pressed to his ear.
He huffs out a breath and glances back at Yeonjun who has stayed behind, albeit still staring at him worriedly.
A whole day of losing his relationship one piece at a time.
One look from Yeonjun at a time.
One touch from Yeonjun at a time.
But you have to fight for relationships.
There are certain types of sacrifices. Some of which Soobin has to make, some of which Sunghoon has to make for them to make it. For them to still be.
And right now looking at Yeonjun kicking a pebble on the sidewalk, hands shoved in his jean pockets, beautiful, despite the dimness of the late hour, Soobin realises he might be looking at his sacrifice.
Soobin sucks in a breath, the glass of phone screen cool against his cheek.
He was taught to fight for relationships. His part begins now.
“Sunghoon, I want to-”
“Hyung, I want us to take a break.”
Notes:
was listening to coldplay's fix you while writing/proof reading
<33
Chapter 11: pending
Notes:
cw: brief mention of homophobia
Chapter Text
Emotional Numbness is often referred to by psychologists as the mental process of shutting negative feelings out. It is a coping mechanism, body’s way of defending itself from emotional pain. As fun as it may sound to steer clear of hurt, Emotional Numbness comes in a package deal with rejection of positive emotions too.
So, it’s not fun. At all.
It’s nothing.
The response of your body, your mind, your heart when you are sure the pain is going to break you in two. Is nothing. You’re in the abyss. Or you are the abyss.
The unpleasant revelation first comes as a shock.
Or maybe it’s not a shock to you. It’s a shock to others.
It’s hard to tell at this point.
The first time of Soobin coming across such a state was delivered to him in the form of Sunghoon knocking on his apartment door at 11 pm at night, deep purple circles under his eyes and his words, his gaze, his posture soaked in sheer reluctance.
Soobin rubbed the sleep away from his swollen eyes, mind quickly going alert at the shattered nature of Sunghoon’s energy.
“I told my parents that I am gay.”
Soobin didn't speak a word. He let Sunghoon continue.
“They told me I’m not their son anymore.”
Nothing in Sunghoon’s statement wavered. He wasn’t trembling. He wasn’t sobbing. In fact, he just wasn’t there. Soobin held him and felt the warmth of the boy underneath the palms of his hands, but Sunghoon had already drifted somewhere.
Later in the night, Soobin had carried Sunghoon to bed, to take care of him there after the younger boy had whispered in his ear to “make him forget” and pressed his body against his.
Soobin stopped to question Sunghoon in every step to the bedroom, if he was sure, if that was what he really wanted in that moment, if it was what he needed and received pleading eyes and nods of head as answer to every question.
It was only after, laying in bed undressed, sheets brunched up around their waists, Sunghoon’s empty gaze drilling a hole in Soobin that he decided to ask the painfully stupid question of “how are you feeling?”
And as if they were two friends discussing something as trivial as answers for math homework, Sunghoon just shrugged and replied “I don’t know”.
The rest of that night, the bed felt colder than other nights.
How can you not know how you feel?
Soobin didn’t receive that answer.
Or he did. Now. Much later. Staring at his reflection in the mirror, mind working overtime to decipher what does he actually feel in this very moment. And then surrendering, unable to find anything.
Someone is repeatedly dipping the paint brush in numbness and laying coats and coats of it over Soobin’s brain, making all of the edges lose their sharpness. It’s like searching for a radio station in the highest frequencies, where music doesn’t exist anymore, it’s just static, static, static…
You see, Soobin had just lost the only serious relationship he ever had. Or worse yet, his only serious relationship had taken a temporary leave.
Soobin doesn’t believe in “breaks”.
Breaks hinder the relationship even more. Make it messy where it shouldn’t be messy.
But Soobin didn’t get to voice any of that on his call with Sunghoon that dreary night. Everything kind of became blunt. He entered the grey area.
In most cases, it is temporary, Soobin reads off of the first psychology article that popped up after his admirable attempts to feel sad about the person he just lost.
In most cases.
On the eighth day after the call Soobin is starting to believe he doesn’t fit the frame of “most cases”.
He tries to focus his eyes on the spreadsheet of Bean Fairy’s expenses that Yeonjun had sent him earlier that week in order for Soobin to review the café’s inventory that they could operate with in the renovation. He squints to read the words and actually understand them, not just have them bounce around in his hollow skull.
The preparations for the renovation are in full swing, with Soobin as captain of the project, elected by Yeonjun. Yeonjun has made the necessary arrangements, closed the café, rescheduled deliveries, let Chaeryeong on a vacation. He busies himself with some paperwork, thick framed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose, somehow managing to make him look impossibly more handsome.
Yeonjun.
The boy tiptoes around Soobin like he is fine china. His eyes are inquiring, his voice high-pitched as he gifts Soobin exhilarating, gentle pats on the back every two hours or so.
Soobin’s tense mind eases under the quietness of Bean Fairy’s kitchen he tucked himself away into. With great strength he glues his eyes to the list of purchases, most of the stuff he recognises from the storage room are under the purchase date of five years ago.
Now, this finally catches Soobin’s attention.
The items that have been bought for the sole purpose of renovation have been sitting and collecting dust in a dingy room for five years?
It really doesn’t make a lot of sense. The disheartening aspect of this is that Soobin doesn’t know of how much use can things from five years ago be for the “revival” of a business. Living in Seoul, he has experienced first hand just how fast-paced the world of trends is. One season, everyone has it, the next it’s an anti-trend.
And Soobin is aware that blindly following whatever interior design specialists throw out there, is only contributing to the terribly greedy money spinning machine, however, there is a crucial part of coffee shop business and that is presentability and visual appeal.
So there’s that.
And then there’s inexplicable amounts of fake plants that he finds in the storage room. Soobin is left wondering what exactly was the idea behind such quantity of faux greenery.
It’s not that the things are completely useless. There are cans of white paint and there’s that food display and packs of oak grey laminate. The main issue is that Yeonjun has already went out of his way to prepare everything for the café’s revamp, while Soobin is really beginning to consider scrapping his initial idea and go with something completely different.
The main issue is that he has to present something to Yeonjun, who already races around like a chicken without its head. Soobin as Yeonjun's knight in shining armour is nothing but an illusion he built inside of his head. In reality, he’s becoming more and more clueless.
Soobin heaves a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose.
He doesn’t want to disappoint him.
It would be easier to have Yeonjun on the board, it would make sense if Yeonjun was the captain, even. Because hello? This stuff is in Yeonjun’s possession, therefore he must have at least a hunch on how and where he wants it applied. But whenever he brings this up to the other, Soobin only receives half a response - a shrug and a “you’re the captain, Soobinie”.
Also, Soobin knows nothing about the budget or budgeting, for that matter. It has only come to his knowledge that there is a saving’s account for the business, but how much is on there Soobin doesn’t have the faintest idea.
Safe to say, it is a bit of a dead end.
So he calls a meeting. Well, a meeting of just him and Yeonjun.
And Yeonjun gives him the green light. To let his imagination run free. As if it was super simple. As if the resources and the money and the limited abilities of just two people weren’t a factor.
Well, no, not entirely. They do agree on part division - Soobin takes the creative side and Yeonjun will call the shots on whether yes, this would work out great or no, this is way off, what were you thinking, considering that he is in charge of finances and technical execution.
Concluding their discussion fruitful, Soobin ends up still awake at an ungodly hour hunched over laptop screen, ideas shooting like darts but landing neither here nor there.
He closes his eyes, finding that vision saturates his already fried brain.
Soobin used to always do this as a Media Art student whenever he had to paint himself a clear visual picture. He closed his eyes and let all his ideas concentrate into one big ball, then launched it into space, looking for whatever stays, whatever lingers.
Bean Fairy
Coffee
Fairy
Bean
Yeonjun
Yeonjun
Fairy
Yeonjun
Yeonjun’s crescents when attempting to juggle packets of sugar they begged the barista to give them huge amounts of. Just two kids.
Monstera leave garlands and fairy lights, the festivities and Yeonjun shining, beams of pride for the transformed beauty.
Yeonjun pouring camomile tea, steam volatilising into the air, Soobin nursing the mug in his cold hands, damp strands of Yeonjun’s hair and the warm light falling gently on his cheekbones.
Yeonjun beaming under the collapsed blanket fort, the boys sore from laughter, tangled in strings of lights. Soobin under his spell.
Soobin always under his spell.
Yeonjun behind the magic every time.
A fairy.
That’s it.
Oh my God.
“Oh my God,” Soobin whispers to no one. He scrabbles around to find his phone.
It’s the middle of the night. But everything inside Soobin is lit up, like dozens of birthday candles on a cake.
He presses his phone to his ear.
One ring, two rings, three rings, four-
“Hello?” says Yeonjun’s voice, raspy and thick with sleep and an octave lower. Soobin swallows.
“Hyung, hyung, hyung, sorry for waking you up,” Soobin tries to contain himself, but everything just spills, “But I have a ridiculous, over-the-top, totally crazy idea and I need you to shoot it down immediately so I can move on.”
There are a few seconds of silence and Soobin imagines Yeonjun sits up on his bed, hoisting himself into a fully conscious state.
Then,
“I’m listening.”
“Okay, so the café is called Bean Fairy, but have you ever wondered what does that actually mean?” Soobin starts, already running out of breath with his marathon of words, “Fairy is a mythical being, often with supernatural powers. With magical powers. The term “fairy” in itself entails some sort of magic. Shouldn’t a place that bears the name also have magic? What if we turn Bean Fairy into an enchanted forest? That kinda vibe. What if we make like… blanket forts? Or no, like teepee tents! I mean, we have the space for it if we remove some of the awkward sized tables that are never all occupied anyways. Tents will be like booths! Intimate and cozy. And oh, oh we could hang the fake plants on the ceiling along with fairy lights! And paint the walls darker and it will enclose the space and make it dreamy, and it will all come alive like it should have five years ago already! Oh my God, hyung, what do you think!?”
Soobin finishes his hasty monologue, panting for more air. When he is met with overbearing silence on the other end, he starts doubting everything he just poured out. Now that he thinks about it, it sounds totally insane, it’s middle of the fucking night and Soobin’s mind is just going places too far, his mind is working ahead of himself and Yeonjun will probably laugh at this.
Oh no.
Soobin regrets calling.
Yeonjun will probably tell him how ridiculous it is.
He will probably think it’s weird.
He will probably-
“I love you."
Comes the voice from the other end.
“W-what?”
All oxygen is squeezed out of Soobin’s lungs. Heartbeat thrums in his ears heavily. The moment doesn’t feel real.
“You might actually be genius, Soobinie, you’re really onto something! Of course, we would have to discuss how we could actually go about executing this,” he can hear Yeonjun smiling into the phone. The moment doesn’t feel real. Still.
“Y-you don’t think it’s i-impossible?” the good flow of words Soobin had just a moment ago comes to a sudden halt.
“If it’s impossible, we’ll have to make it possible.”
On the tenth day after Sunghoon requested a break from the relationship it finally catches up to Soobin. But it’s best not to get ahead of oneself.
That day starts like any other.
Actually, Soobin wakes up weirdly energised.
He throws on a cream colour hoodie over a striped turtleneck and fixes the hem over his trusty straight-leg jeans. Soobin can’t help feel a sense of accomplishment about last night’s work. It’s been a while since he spent some alone time with his drawing tablet and digital pencil. He didn’t realise he missed it that much.
As a student, art became a chore and creative expression - a homework. Oftentimes it left Soobin drained. But whenever he was set on a particular idea for class assignment, sketching and drawing sucked him into another dimension where only brushes, strokes, colours and tones exist. He got to experience time and time again the miracle of birth of an idea and its reshaping into reality. It never ceased to amaze him.
Last night when he opened new canvas file, his hand moved on its own accord. Soon the page was filled with sketches and scrabbles of ideas. He also made a basic floor plan.
Caught in a surge of self-confidence, he shows Yeonjun proof of his endeavours to turn Bean Fairy into a real life fairy.
Yeonjun appears pleased, if an immediate grin crossing his face is anything to go by.
The morning is cloudy, yet the sun peeks through the cracks leisurely, repelling the morning dew. Beams that break through the blanket of clouds gild the streets with the promise of a long-awaited warmth.
Heat gradually rises during the day and Soobin discards his thick hoodie before going back to coating paint swatches on the wall. They decided to paint the walls dark green to match the vibe that they are going for. He double checks each sample, just to remember the proper name of the shade of green since he has a harder time distinguishing them than he would like to admit.
“Yeonjunie hyung!” he drags out the name in a whine.
Yeonjun is currently busy vacating the dining area from all furniture and bar items, marching back and forth to the kitchen and storage room, so Soobin kind of expects Yeonjun to just dismiss him.
What he didn’t expect is Yeonjun’s presence right behind him the very next moment. He grows wary of the physical closeness, Soobin is still facing the wall, as Yeonjun leans over his shoulder from behind, scanning the swatches. He is ridiculously close, hot breath hovering over Soobin’s neck and all of the warmth in the room now concentrates in Soobin’s cheeks. The familiar fragrance of cotton wafts in the tight space between their bodies.
Why is he so damn close?
It is getting extremely difficult to focus on the task at hand and Soobin wants to slap himself for his body losing the game of resisting Yeonjun every time. That traitor.
“Which one is this?” Yeonjun asks in a muted tone, stretching out his arm, pointing at one of the green paint swatches. The words ghost over the shell of Soobin’s ear, leaving tingles.
“That’s umm… juniper,” Soobin manages, words tasting muddled on his tongue.
“Hmmm,” Yeonjun hums lowly and Soobin has to detain a full body shiver.
Then he moves his pointer finger to another swatch, asking Soobin which one is that, but Soobin barely hears the question over the turmoil Yeonjun’s arm is causing, practically caging him from behind.
“T-that’s pine.”
Another sound of acknowledgement. Longer. And deeper.
Yeonjun aims his finger at the third swatch, the other hand coming to rest at Soobin’s shoulder. His palm is warm, Soobin feels the heat seep through the thin material of his shirt.
“This one?” Yeonjun whispers right next to his ear and Soobin feels himself being pulled into the danger area, he feels like he is seconds away from crossing a boundary he had carefully set for himself, his mind and body in a battle, persistently throttling the urge to lay hold of Yeonjun, spin him around and push him against the wall, senselessly crashing their lips together.
Soobin licks his dry lips.
“That’s… that’s basil, I think,” Soobin coughs out dryly, flustered out of his mind, atmosphere thick with haze as he tries to search for the label on the paint samples almost knocking them over.
Just as all thoughts start to slip away, Yeonjun pats his shoulder a few times, and finishes the conversation with “I think basil is the right one”. And then he’s gone. Just like that. Back to his own tasks.
Unknowingly leaving Soobin frozen, in a flurry to collect himself.
Sun hangs low in the afternoon and drowsiness pervades in the jammed café. Soobin lets out his fourth yawn of the last half hour, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Yeonjun. Both of them are stuck on the same task of painting the walls in the rich colour of basil green, a job that by the nth hour naturally starts getting a little tiresome. The solution that Yeonjun comes up with is putting on some music on the speakers.
The easy melodies of Yeonjun’s playlist do help with keeping up the rhythm of the paint roller in his hand gliding on the wall. It’s a type of moment Soobin could describe as harmonious, exactly because of the simplicity of it. Exactly because it holds that kind of mundanity that soothes the soul. Soon he is cradled in his own thoughts, unintentionally, as always, lingering on the three words that rolled over Yeonjun’s lips.
He replays the moment, ignoring the way his body reacts each time he does, instead focusing on banishing their meaning, thus saving himself from the unnecessary ache in his heart.
They had exchanged I love you’s before. It was nothing major.
They were best friends, after all.
Soobin glances back at Yeonjun, careful not to fall off the ladder. Yeonjun has both of his feet planted on the third step of his own ladder, but his hips are swinging from side to side to the music, causing the already barely stable stepladder to creak under the movement.
Acting on instinct, Soobin flies over to where Yeonjun is and grips both sides of the ladder, holding it in place. Yeonjun only chuckles at Soobin’s cautiousness.
But Soobin is not playing around.
“Hyung, please be careful,” Soobin admonishes.
“Or what?” Yeonjun challenges, sticking his tongue out as he removes one foot from the rung, balancing his whole weight on one leg.
Soobin shoots him a stern look still holding the ladder in a death grip, but clearly Yeonjun is having none of it. He giggles on and rattles the ladder on purpose.
“Are you gonna catch me if I fall, like in a drama?” Yeonjun teases, obviously having fun pulling a reaction from Soobin.
“No, I’m gonna-” Soobin breaks his own sentence by promptly reaching out to wrap his arms around Yeonjun’s waist, easily lifting him off of the ladder and clutching him to himself as he lands, leaving the startled Yeonjun only able to respond with a squeak and the faintest “ah” sound.
Caught off guard, the roller soaked in green paint slips out of his hand and drops to the floor and thankfully both of them were sensible enough to cover the floor and the remaining furniture with masking film so there is no damage done. But still the roller’s impact with the floor, splatters a bit of paint on Yeonjun’s white Converse, a terrible choice of footwear for a painting job, if you ask Soobin.
Yeonjun lets out a yelp when he notices his ruined shoes, but cuts himself off right away, because Soobin still has his arms wrapped around Yeonjun’s smaller frame, his back flush against Soobin’s chest, nose nuzzled in the crook of Yeonjun’s neck.
“Please don’t scare me like that,” Soobin mumbles, the sound blanketed somewhere in Yeonjun’s shoulder he has leaned his head onto.
Underneath his hands, Soobin can feel the movement of Yeonjun’s chest heaving in heavy breaths. He knows he has to let go, he knows he has no reason to hold him longer than this.
The seconds slip heavily through his fingers. Each one he knows he won’t be able to take back.
He knows he doesn’t have much longer.
Melodic guitar plays through the speakers. Slowly, unsurely, Yeonjun puts his hands over Soobin’s that are holding onto his waist. It’s a ghost of a touch. As if they could break any moment. As if Soobin and Yeonjun, as an entity, could break any moment.
Yeonjun’s voice is husky yet smooth, oozing with honey when he asks “Do you want to dance?”
His words and Soobin’s nod of agreement are scarily fragile, like snowflakes of early spring, fickle and delicate and bound to melt.
Not breaking out of the position they find themselves in, Yeonjun begins swaying his body smoothly, guiding Soobin along just as a pleasant female vocal starts singing;
When I was younger I saw my daddy cry
And curse at the wind
He broke his own heart and I watched
As he tried to reassemble it
Soobin hooks his chin on Yeonjun’s shoulder, taking in the hushed chords, breathing it in, breathing in Yeonjun.
And my momma swore
That she would never let herself forget
And that was the day that I promised
I’d never sing of love if it does not exist
But darling, you are the only exception
Their bodies rock together in same breaths, same rhythm.
You are the only exception
Butterflies swarm in his stomach.
You are the only exception
Yeonjun untangles their hands, Soobin wishes to protest, but Yeonjun quickly snaps his body around, facing Soobin and connecting their hands again.
Maybe I know somewhere deep in my soul
That love never lasts
And we’ve got to find other ways to make it alone
Or keep a straight face
Yeonjun swings their hands backwards, forwards, backwards, forwards, small smile working the corners of his lips.
And I’ve always lived like this
Keeping a comfortable distance
Soobin watches their hands, intertwined and dangling in front of him.
And up until now I had sworn to myself
That I’m content with loneliness
Because none of it was ever worth the risk
Yeonjun raises his their hands up high, offering Soobin an opening to twirl. Soobin accepts, albeit clumsily, due to the height difference. He would feel embarrassed if it wasn’t for Yeonjun throwing his head back, laughing. The sounds are saturated with joy.
Well you are the only exception
Now Soobin holds up his arm and Yeonjun spins around his axis, much more effortlessly. Much more graciously.
You are the only exception
Both unspokenly go in for the waltz, end up knocking into each other, Soobin stomping on Yeonjun’s foot, earning him a pinch on the side
You are the only exception
Soobin pays back with a poke on Yeonjun’s waist. Dancing is replaced with frivolous tickling.
You are the only exception
Feeling mischievous Yeonjun turns on his heel, intent on running away from Soobin’s prodding. Soobin acts fast and with the newfound confidence in his physical abilities to manhandle Yeonjun, hooks his arms around the back of Yeonjun’s thighs, hoisting the other boy up easily.
I’ve got a tight grip on reality
But I can’t let go of what’s in front of me here
Yeonjun squeals out small sounds of protest, banging his fists against Soobin’s shoulders, but the taller is stronger. Laughs of victory rumble in his throat as he carries Yeonjun with no effort.
I know you’re leaving in the morning when you wake up
Leave me with some kind of proof it’s not a dream
Soobin spins them around and around, holding onto him tightly. His arms eventually get sore and he plops Yeonjun down on a counter. He cannot think, cannot catch his breath even, while irreversibly lost in the galaxies in Yeonjun’s deep brown orbs, hence he plants himself in between Yeonjun’s thighs, entering risk territory. But the plush cherry lip Yeonjun digs his teeth into and the eyes with uncountable stars in them - they all lure him in closer, closer, into the intimacy of the position.
“It’s the first time you have laughed in a while,” Yeonjun quietly acknowledges with a grin of his own lighting up his features and Soobin can see every little delicate detail in the dizzying nearness.
Has he?
He has.
There are fireworks going off inside him.
Among the firecrackers finally shooting into the sky, there are also words written inside of his head, inside of his heart, engraved, underlined and highlighted, in screaming colour.
I love you too.
In fact, I am in love with you.
And as any explosive substance it doesn’t go off without an impact.
Directionless, it strikes right into the dam built over the past ten days, sending a whole ocean blasting through the cracked concrete wall.
Heaps of water bust out and overflow, with a relentless vigor of being held back for so long it washes over everything.
“Oh my God, Soobinie, are you alright?” he senses worry entering Yeonjun’s voice as he jumps off the counter and eyes him alerted.
Dazed and confused, vision blurred, Soobin acknowledges that he is crying. Cheeks damp just as fresh set of tears escape his eyes.
“No, no, I-” he sniffles.
“Soobinie,” Yeonjun sounds sorrowful, his hand already traveling towards Soobin’s face, likely to wipe the tears away, but Soobin backs away and Yeonjun retreats his hand, eyes flashing panic.
“Soobinie, baby, what’s wrong? Do you want ice cream, we could go get-”
“No!” Soobin snaps, instantly regretting it. Instantly wishing he could take it back. He refuses to look Yeonjun in the eyes. “I-I need to be alone.”
A few steps backwards, irreversible and shattering, and he turns around to dash out of the door.
Chapter 12: bean fairy
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
When the dam breaks, you feel like you’ll drown.
At least that’s what Soobin feels like, vicious waves endlessly toppling over him one after another, with no intervals for Soobin to catch his breath.
He hops in the shower as soon as he runs home, in an attempt to rinse off the heaviness on his shoulders. The hot stream creates a pressure on his bare skin, his bones are weary and dense and in the steaming bathroom there’s a shrieking silence flumping Soobin down to the deep end as he finally lets out a sob he’s been holding.
And it doesn’t stop.
Broken sobs follow one after another in a sequence, and Soobin is rushed down the forceful body of water, caught in a maelstrom of despair. The constant, unabating downpour of shower masks his tears that can’t seem to cease pouring out of his eyes.
A broken record going in loops, it’s the same melody caught on a single chord, bringing a single name out on the surface.
Sunghoon.
Ten days in which Soobin could have grieved the breakup. Ten days of blunting. Versus the one single crack in the dam.
Ten days, not a single tear shed until the one that breaks him apart.
Finally, he yields to the tears.
He cries for the lavender detergent. He cries for the mole on his nose. He cries for the rosy and cool cheeks that bloom in colour during skating practice.
He cries for the motivational texts and shopping trips. He cries for that Sunghoon on a Sunday just like any other, stepping inside the bus to Seoul, glancing back at Soobin on the platform, chest fallen and eyes not fixed on anything. He cries for not knowing if that was the last picture he’ll ever get of him.
In the head-spinningly fast ocean that is Seoul, Sunghoon was his safety ring. He latched onto that familiarity, on the comfort of the younger boy, depending on him to be his home away from home. And he really felt like one.
But most of all, he cries for feeling like it’s all a lie.
Revelation that Soobin is completely and devastatingly in love with his best friend is like finding yourself in a pool of water, already sloshing around your chin and into your mouth, threatening to wash over your head and swallow you up, destroying everything in its wake.
Soobin’s knees give out and he slides down the shower wall, the cold tiles chilling against his bare back.
The steam and the overpowering emotion sets the frightening conclusion into motion and it seeps into Soobin’s bones, courses through his body like it is the only thing he has ever known.
He has been in love with his best friend this whole time.
When he first saw Sunghoon skate, mesmerised by his movements, he was in love with Yeonjun.
When he treated him to bingsu, and watched him dig his spoon into the dessert with such delight, he was in love with Yeonjun.
When he leaned in, attached his lips to his and savoured the sweetness left on the other’s lips, he was in love with Yeonjun.
Decade of diligent work, willing the feeling away with all his might, blindly hoping that if he kissed enough lips and gazed into enough pairs of eyes and held enough hands, that the image of Yeonjun would perish. That the heart skips and the lips that once moulded perfectly would just be a figment of his imagination, insignificant, eventually floating into oblivion. That the energetic and sunny boy he spent his youth with, loving him in all of the ways he could imagine loving a person, would turn into a mere memory of the past.
Years of denial lay heavily on his body, the years in which he missed truly hearing his heart, refused to listen who it is beating for, the years in which he involuntarily broke the hearts of others, the years that he spent breaking his own.
Those years flush down the drain along with the water and Soobin is the culprit of the mess, the culprit of everything, so he sits there unmoving, willingly giving his body away to the intensity of emotion, letting guilt slowly consume him whole.
-
Three knocks on the door echo in the hallway. Some long seconds pass and maybe Soobin is too impatient for an answer, maybe there’s too much unrest in his bones so he tries the door. It’s unlocked.
He takes a cautious step inside. It’s late but not as late for Yeonjun to have gone to bed already.
Any doubts he might have had about Yeonjun taking an early night vanish when he hears the soft murmur of TV, and the blue light from the screen extending across the living room.
Yeonjun is stretched across the length of the couch, one leg propped on top of the backrest, the other slid down on the floor, looking only half-interested at whatever is running on the TV.
Then he spots the intruder and jolts up on his feet, the unexpected visitor giving him a visible fright.
It confounds Soobin in his place, everything does, from the way the harsh blue light light falls on the side of Yeonjun’s face to the puzzle in his gaze.
“Soobin-ah,” Yeonjun begins unsurely, “why are you here?”
Because you didn’t deserve me running out on you like that.
Because I love you too. Differently than you do.
“Because I bought too much ice cream,” Soobin waves the convenience store plastic bag in his hand.
Yeonjun eyes him up and down, still perplexed.
Not knowing what to do or where to put himself, Soobin takes the two tubs of ice cream out of the bag, feeling Yeonjun’s eyes tracing every move. It’s a pathetic look, he is a aware, his eyes still sting from the crying and he believes they are swollen, making his face appear puffier, two large tubs of ice cream in hand, an unreasonable amount of sugar, because, yes, no stick can ever mount up to what he needs right now in the turbulence life threw him into.
“Mint choco,” Yeonjun utters, not really a question.
Soobin stares dumbfounded at the tubs from Baskin Robbins - one Mint Chocolate Chip, one Cherries Jubilee - in his hands, lips sitting in a pout.
“Yeah, so it appears I didn’t accidentally buy too much ice cream,” Soobin licks his lips, “I bought one for you.”
When he finally lifts his gaze, he sees Yeonjun already looking at him, smiling.
And the banging waves die down by a notch.
“I could have never bought mint choco for myself. Distasteful,” Soobin throws in a joke, scrunches up his nose sarcastically, feeling relief flood his veins. And Yeonjun chuckles, snatching the tub out of his hands and clutching it to his chest dramatically, defending his favourite flavour.
“Sit, make yourself at home,” Yeonjun invites, slinging his limbs over the couch and patting the spot next to him.
Soobin obliges, albeit hesitantly, still feeling that there is something on his chest he really wants to get off.
“Hyung, I am sorry,” Soobin pours out in a single exhale, making Yeonjun’s eyes turn from the TV to him again, “I didn’t mean to storm off like that. I just-”
Constrained in his vocabulary, Soobin stutters while searching for a way to put the feeling into words, to deliver the chaos that spiralled in his brain in a simple message.
“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” Yeonjun cuts his struggles short by flashing a fond smile.
Some older woman on the variety show croaks at a comedy sketch playing, and with Yeonjun sitting next to him idly watching the show and cramming down his mint choco, it almost feels alright.
If only it wasn’t for the sinking feeling of ending up in a twisted fate where he is in love with best friend.
Could it even be called an epiphany? Ultimately realising something that has been there since the start of time, growing and blooming and finally blossoming onto its very peak?
He calls his fate twisted not because of the heart's miraculous capacity of love, no. Rather because of the dreaded denouement of not having it returned.
If it was returned, that part of the movie would have played out already. That high point in Soobin’s plot line would have arrived already. He is sure of that.
In the slim-to-none chance that Yeonjun loved him back in that way, he would have already had millions of opportunities to express it, to tell him, to make his move. The flamboyant, charming, expressive boy, the Choi Yeonjun, never fearing discussing feelings, his self-confidence and self-expression always in a tight grip, wouldn’t have feared a chance.
And it is that miserable outcome that makes Soobin’s story a tragedy.
Yet where normally he would have succumbed to the heavy feelings weighing him down, down into the dumps, he makes the surprising discovery that actually he feels… light.
He realises that for the first time in a while, things are right. No matter if his story is a happy or a sad one, he is finally in tune with it. Done antagonising his own narrative, just being near Yeonjun, heart still tearing at the desire to hold him without a reason, without a grant, he feels real for not pushing away the affection, the admiration, the infatuation, like he has had years of practice of. It seeps through his whole being from the containment, now finally-
He has let go.
He has allocated space in his heart for love.
It’s blissful. Freeing.
And so in a way, he is alright.
He is more interested in watching Yeonjun than the show, memorises the way his eyes follow the obnoxiously highlighted titles on the screen, the way his lips latch around the spoon and puff up while savouring the cold dessert. He lets his own ice cream melt, unable to keep his eyes off the boy, feeling full just by being next to him.
At one point Kai comes out of his room, declares he’s bored and drapes his tall frame over Yeonjun and Soobin’s laps, which they hastily complain about, trapped under the weight of the younger boy, then seek revenge by tickling him everywhere they can get their hands on and Kai yelps and squirms over them like a worm.
And Soobin thinks he’s watching an endearingly domestic scene play out, or better yet, he’s caught in the middle of it, like a cameo on a cozy set of some widely loved family show. It strangely makes warmth creep into his heart.
Family is not always blood. In that moment, he discovers the truth in the saying.
Project Bean Fairy 2.0 brings Soobin the most hectic, most tiring, most rewarding month of his life. Every day of the past four weeks he has been watching Bean Fairy come alive right under the work of his own hands.
The transformation, although slow and time-consuming, is spectacular above all. Combined efforts lead to steady progress and steady progress leads to an outcome satisfying for all parties involved.
In the final stages of the renovation, the bare ceiling is the only thing still awaiting its revitalisation. Walls in a saturated dark green design the place in a new light of intimacy and the laminate flooring adds a much more welcoming atmosphere than the tile covered floor previously.
Perhaps the selling point of the new Bean Fairy, and of Soobin’s heart, are the teepee tents. Five beautiful, inviting, unbelievably charming and adorable tents for a more private, more secluded coffee date, tower almost up to the ceiling, light wood dowels tied together at the top, spanned by a soft beige fabric that is tied back at the entrance to create just enough opening for sneaking inside. Each is like a tiny house on its own with patterned cushions inside, rustic pallet ground table and lantern table lamp. The tents are connected by a chain of little light bulbs, encircling the rest of dining area like a campsite, station to slatted wooden tables and dining chairs.
The overly bright top lighting from before is toned down by decadently effulgent bulbs, building a mystery of a sort that gently laces the air.
But if you ask Soobin what the cherry on top is, he would proudly point at the large pink neon sign of a coffee bean embellishing one of the walls. Its pink hues reflect on the sleek surfaces, like will-o’-the-wisp luring the traveller in the forest’s enchanted beauty.
Magical realism. The genre that Soobin believes in.
There are enough miracles to go by in this town.
Another one, another incredibly beautiful transformation is standing right next to him, scanning the bare ceiling, detecting possible loopholes for their plan of plant decoration.
Just how Soobin keeps glancing at the smallest well thought out details in the café, a sight that he can never get tired of seeing is Yeonjun blossoming out little by little every day. He practically shines, as every step in the betterment of the Fairy ensures the spark in Yeonjun’s eyes to linger a little longer. His cheeks are fuller and show colour and energy runs through his system, judging by the early morning texts containing overuse of emojis and a light skip with which he navigates around the café.
Warmth has finally opened its doors to all living beings longing to spend time outside without bundling up in coats and scarves. May comes bearing those gifts that everyone has been asking for, the days are basking in the warm sun beams, melting the bitterness away, because based on Soobin’s observation people are a lot more polite and genuinely nicer.
Even in the slow paced town the warmer days evoke a lively sense of activity, and Soobin experiences it first hand by marking his days busy helping around the Fairy.
Growing up doing almost everything together, it comes as no surprise that Yeonjun and Soobin make a great team. When it comes to Yeonjun, it isn’t hard to come to mutual agreements and make decisions, as the general direction that they are thinking in seems to almost always align. From picking the fabrics, wood tones and light bulb intensity to choosing the right laminate installer and electrician, it is pleasant not having to reason about every decision that needs to be made.
Another advantage working in their favour is that living in a smaller town comes with an amount of valuable contacts under their belt. Finding specialists for the job is way easier of a task when one knows their way around the town and is aquatinted with the most skilled professionals in the area. The seamstress that Soobin turned to for seaming of the tent fabrics was the same one that they both used to use services of in their school days when Soobin’s uniform needed adjusting due to the rapid growth of his large body. The lady recognised Soobin, kind smile with a few missing teeth never leaving her face as she complimented Soobin’s tall height and good looks, her head now scattered with grey hairs that Soobin remembers seeing only a few of back in the day.
Soobin’s idea of a fresh start didn’t only involve positive change in physical environment but also an upgrade in the quality of sold goods. While Soobin found it essential, it was the only part of the project that took heavy convincing to get Yeonjun on board with as well. Soobin understands that running a business is hard as is (read: he doesn’t understand, but he guesses), yet he pushed the idea on Yeonjun that Bean Fairy needs to up its coffee game, with the competitive coffee shop scene of Seoul in mind where, in most cases, the flavour of the beverage is the defining factor of customer’s satisfaction. So he presented to Yeonjun all the reasons why they should find another coffee bean seller, this time a speciality coffee producer, and just how much it will enhance the flavour and, therefore, overall experience.
Now, Soobin can get quite whimsical with the ideas and his reasoning for them, but Yeonjun is the one responsible for rationalising Soobin’s proposals, since for him changing the seller means a whole new contract with whole new set of terms of transaction and delivery. Nevertheless, Yeonjun yielded and they reached further confirmation that yes, this is, in fact, the way to go, when the new brand samples for taste testing arrived and caffeine was actually buzzing in their veins just like when they were kids with low tolerance - a long lost sensation in a world of over processed and weak coffee.
While at it, Soobin took it upon himself to find a way to brand the coffee cups. When he thought about it, it actually seemed strange that after all the years of being loved by many, Bean Fairy never had branded takeaway cups. People frequent the coffee shop in the rush hours, seeking for their caffeine fix before they’re off engaging in their own business, whether that would be office job or walking the dog - the cup sits in their hand while they hurry to their destinations, yet the cup bears no name, no indication of where it’s from. A missed promotion opportunity that ought to have changed sooner than later.
And with Soobin’s trained art graduate hand, he was shaping and sketching Bean Fairy’s very own logo in no time. The result - a neatly written name of the café - was then printed on circular, basil green stickers that could easily be glued on both plastic and paper cups.
Sometimes Soobin felt like his 24 hour day was replaced by a 25 hour one. Each day he found the drive to perfect the little details that may seem insignificant to others, but make a huge difference in the café’s second chance. Each day he becomes more passionate about the changes, like he gets drunk off of the smell of a newly built home, a fresh start finally awakening.
Or perhaps, the source of fuel in his body is the way Yeonjun keeps looking at him. Amazement, admiration and gratitude reads in each glance he sends Soobin’s way. It makes his skin burn. He catches Yeonjun staring at him more often than he expects to and each time their inspection of each other is prolonged until one breaks into a fond smile and the other follows along. Soobin would call it a game, except there is no game to play with a single player. So, Soobin soaks in whatever he can get from the other, the stares and the smiles and occasional touches, ignoring the itching inside of him demanding to take more.
“What do you think then?” Yeonjun asks.
“Hmm?” Soobin snaps out of his daze, realising he completely missed Yeonjun’s question.
“The ceiling is too high to just attach the plants to, so what if we install two large ceiling frames with grilles that we could drape the plants over,” Yeonjun doesn’t seem to mind repeating himself, he gestures at the stretch of the ceiling, helping them envision the final image.
Soobin doesn’t have to think hard to agree. The plants draping over the dining area would appear to engulf the space like it is sort of a mystical alley in the woods. So, going with plan B is the right decision and there is no issue with altering initial plans, the issue is that Yeonjun is wearing a tank top for the hot day and the bare arms and the display of tattoos, it’s all beyond distracting when Soobin should be helping Yeonjun setting the plan into action. If only there was a way he could slide his fingers over the artwork adorning Yeonjun’s arms and examine every detail. As an artist, of course.
He realises he has zoned out once again, and feeling flustered, scolds his brain for easily losing focus at the sight of Yeonjun’s exposed skin.
Yeonjun steps on the ladder to take approximate measurements for the ceiling frames and Soobin grabs hold of the ladder to hold it in place, heart rate spiking at the image of Yeonjun tripping and hurting himself. Yeonjun snorts but doesn’t mention anything about Soobin’s precaution.
It is only when Yeonjun raises his arms to work the tape measure that Soobin notices it. Blame it on the ridiculously large armholes of Yeonjun’s tank, but the position gives Soobin a display of Yeonjun’s bare chest. If that wasn’t appalling enough, Soobin can’t help but spot the hidden secret, a delitescent gem, inaccessible to just any curious eye - the eleventh tattoo decorating his ribs, a single word in sailor script inked to stay forever.
Healing
Soobin can’t peel his eyes off of it.
It all knocks him over at once - the exposed skin, Yeonjun’s chest and the tattoo. The meaning of it.
As if Yeonjun had told him the story, it all plays out in front of his eyes. The idea, the intimate placement, grief that it holds, but also a reminder - all for himself, not for the others to peek at, masking the long lasting ache of loss, the durability of the ink promising him that this he won’t lose. This word will stay close to his heart for eternity.
He takes a half-conscious step back, processing everything as he pulls his hands away from the ladder.
“Why aren’t you holding it anymore?” comes Yeonjun’s question right after along with a small pout.
“I- Well- I thought you didn’t think it was necessary,” Soobin answers quietly, searching for his voice.
“It was safer… when you held it,” Yeonjun mumbles and Soobin thinks he sees a tinge of red on his ears.
He wants to hold him.
God, he wants to hold him so bad.
Just like any powerful emotion, it takes a while for Soobin to digest and cool off the urge, so he plants his hands back on the ladder, but looks elsewhere, anywhere else - the tents, the bar, the sliver of window that is not covered by masking film - anywhere but Yeonjun.
The strip of the window that is uncovered, reveals limited view of the street outside, chattering schoolgirls pass by and a corpulent man in a grey suit and-
Soobin blinks his eyes twice.
He must be seeing things.
He must be, because there is no other way. Raven hair, light brown button up, sharp features. Looking around as if lost. Eyes wistful and searching, browsing the film covered café windows hopelessly.
Sunghoon.
Soobin really has to do a double take, because he must have dozed off somehow. The afternoon slump always lulls him into a fairly drowsy state, but after checking in with his senses, what he is looking at here is very much real. Sunghoon is very much outside of Bean Fairy right now.
He nudges Yeonjun to get his attention. When he successfully does so, he hasn’t figured out what to say or how to act.
Soobin just motions at the window, waiting a few daunting seconds until Yeonjun notices it too.
The ocean waves in him slowly rise again after a month of placidness. The easy flow he had settled into over the past four weeks, the everyday rhythm, the motivation to wake up, the teamwork, the team he and Yeonjun makes, it all begins to stagger in a single second. He doesn’t check to see what expression Yeonjun is wearing, only announces weakly that he must go outside and check whatever the hell is going on.
Every step towards the door feels like crossing a canyon. Each move is heavy in his body, wearing down his limbs. The distance that stretches between him and Yeonjun is physically insignificant, but in Soobin’s mind he’s on the other bank of Amazon.
When Soobin steps outside Sunghoon flinches, jostled by Soobin’s sudden appearance, but his features immediately flourish into relief.
“Hoon, what are you- Why and how are you here?” Soobin asks in a feeble voice. He pledges to keep his feet steady.
Sunghoon moves towards Soobin, it’s merely a second, a brief moment until they collide, Sunghoon engulfs him in a hug.
Soobin’s body immobile to Sunghoon’s arms around him, face nestled in Soobin’s chest. A lone, coherent thought streaming the gutters of Soobin’s mind. That if Yeonjun was looking, he could see them hugging through the crack of masking film.
It drives him crazy.
He gently pushes Sunghoon off of him to look him in the eyes and search for answers he is afraid to find.
“Your mom told me you’d be here,” Sunghoon says in an exhale, not holding back a small smile entering his lips.
Soobin swallows down the uneasiness bubbling up.
“You could have called first,” Soobin whispers, unsure if his words are even audible.
“I know, I know it’s insensible for me to be here but I-” he sighs, “It was a jerk move for me to end things on the phone like that and I regret it wholly, hyung.”
This can’t be it.
If there’s anything he knows about Sunghoon is that this can’t be it. Sunghoon doesn’t do insensible. Sunghoon doesn’t do random bursts of contrition that lead to rash decisions.
And Soobin guesses right when Sunghoon continues.
“And I kind of did something and I kind of really need to talk to you about it.”
Notes:
are we over yeonjun tank top era? no, we are not
Chapter 13: the bruise
Notes:
it's astronomy, we're two worlds apart
conan gray - astronomy
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It was a damn good Wednesday. Note the past tense.
Yeonjun woke up at eight. Cold shower and he was truly awoken, gained a complimentary boost from the dawn of the morning, the part of the day that is dripping with stimuli and Yeonjun perceives this as his supplement to truly nourish.
Swapping breakfast for an americano (a bad habit of his), he opened his journal at an unmarked page, rummaging his mind to find something to put on it, it could be a thought, a quote, a word, even a drawing.
Lacking the direction of his thoughts today, he leafed through the pages he had filled thus far, landing on one where he wrote a reminder not to depend on others for happiness.
The page was not dated and he couldn’t remember the exact reason that made him put that down nor why he needed to be reminded of that.
Circumstances have taught Yeonjun not to depend on anything. They have proved time and time again that there’s an unsettling temporality to human condition. The gifts of life that you are meant to relish can all be taken away from you in a blink of an eye. And the funny twist is that you don’t have to be a terrible human being, you don’t have to have fucked up tremendously, you don’t have to have done anything remotely stupid or remorseless or cunning to deserve a lifetime punishment of loss.
Life’s been on Yeonjun’s back, coveting its retaliation.
Yeonjun grew up too quick, in one day actually. The same day he lost his family, the same day he became the only provider for his life, that same day he was forced into adulthood without a manual, without father’s instructive lesson, without mother’s soothing caresses. The day they left him was the day he welcomed solitude, creeping into all aspects of life. That day marked day 1 of being truly and utterly alone in this world.
But something has shifted in the air. Yeonjun feels it dangerously close, like a long lost friend is sitting by the table with him. Yeonjun has a pen in his hand, unable to write a single thing in his notebook, just sits with the feeling and bounces it around as if he has any control over it. It is a terrifying inkling budding through his heart. That maybe he deserves something good. That maybe he deserves this.
This is the finishing touches of the Fairy. This is the promise of a new chapter, a new leaf, unmarked and undated, just begging to be filled with something meaningful, something beautiful, something good. It is daring him to enjoy again. To live again.
It terrifies him, the probability that he might actually live again. That he might be ready to put himself up for the risk of losing everything again.
It terrifies him that largely it is thanks to one person.
The same boy that dominates his thoughts every day and every night. The cause of him falling apart and falling back together, the reason behind the racing heart and an inexplicably strong desire that knocks him off his feet. That same boy pulls the kid out of him, the kid he thought he had lost forever the day he became an orphan.
He’s scared of wanting to truly live.
It is against his trusted survival method, against the loophole that he found in life of merely existing, like an empty shell dodging the bullets by just being nothing.
But maybe he has been a someone for a while now.
So have the past weeks gone by, in a rather disjointed fashion. Morning brings a surge of energy and joy, nerves buzzing in anticipation to see Soobin, to note his visual of the day, how his front hair strands will fall over his eyes and how deep will his dimples dip into his cheeks.
How the light will catch on the underlying warm tone in his washed out dark hair and how will his upper lip curl upwards over Yeonjun’s lame attempt of a joke, just so that he gets to catch a glimpse of it again and again. Every time like it’s the last time, memory system exerting itself, grasping each image of the shining boy like his life depends on it.
And in the daylight the wonder of Bean Fairy comes to life, nearing its full glory, its real potential, turning into something it really deserved to be, a chance Yeonjun would have never managed to give on his own.
But there’s a habit and when the night rolls around, he is crawling into himself, pressing his cheek against Kai’s chest, asking to soothe him, promising that this time he won’t cry as he whispers “Kai, I am in…you know…with Soobin.”
“Again?” Kai would ask then, just above a whisper.
“I don’t think I ever stopped,” he would let the fragile words float in universe, hang somewhere above their heads while Kai’s touches ignite temporary peace in him.
He chews on these thoughts the whole day.
But Yeonjun is a fool. Because life catches up to him. And he feels stupid for attempting to escape the cycle he’s stuck in, like a helpless fly fatally caught in spider’s web.
Because on that same Wednesday when Soobin comes back inside of the café he fails to look Yeonjun in the eyes and Yeonjun has already seen this movie, he’s a cocky viewer skipping ahead in the timeline, hates this part, knowing damn well what is about to happen. What Soobin, with his gaze lost and chest fallen, is about to say.
“Hyung, I gotta go- I, I have to talk to him,” Soobin utters and gestures at his ex-boyfriend standing outside, looking impatient.
He has no means to alter this plot line.
It hurts.
Of course it hurts to let him go.
But can it be considered letting go of someone that was never his to begin with?
So he plasters on a smile and nods, noticing how Soobin winces at that.
He watches the retreating backs of Soobin and Sunghoon, through deep inhales and exhales repeats to himself that he is alright, that this is how things are and that he should’ve known better. But no affirmation can hold back the pain in his chest spreading like wildfire.
Yeonjun hates the stuffy club as soon as he enters it.
But the distaste wears down with a bottle of soju in his system. Besides the pressure of the bass thrumming against his eardrums and the suffocating warmth of sweating bodies, everything becomes rather blunt. The triggering busyness weakens under the effect of alcohol.
“Hyung, why are we here again?” Beomgyu shouts over the loud music.
“Oh, Gyu, Gyu, Gyu,” Yeonjun slurs, leaning in closer for Beomgyu to hear, “Where’s your party spirit?”
Beomgyu scrunches his sculpted nose, looking around the place and sinking deeper in his oversized dark denim jacket. He tilts and moves around his glass of Sex On The Beach, observing how the flood lights reflect in the peachy orange drink.
“We are here to have fun!” Yeonjun explains nudging Beomgyu’s arm, displeased about his lack of answer, “Now look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t need a good dose of fun?”
“I don’t need a dose of anything,” Beomgyu retorts, yet the expression on his face tells a different story.
The barely noticeable pink making an appearance in Beomgyu’s cheeks signals Yeonjun that he has hit the nail on the head and the corner of his lips turns upwards.
See, Beomgyu has been stuck in sort of a sticky situation and he does indeed need to be pulled out of his misery by whatever means necessary. Said situation is that he is continuously pursuing a Friends With Benefits relationship with Taehyun. For whom he also has feelings for. And to whom he has never found a chance to confess aforementioned feelings, before, during or after their hookups, as a cherry on top.
Okay, so maybe Yeonjun wasn’t being completely selfless dragging Beomgyu to the only semi-gay club in the area, but he does need Beomgyu to take a day off of endlessly going on about his no-strings-attached affair that in reality has all the strings attached and secured.
“Look at those dudes that keep staring at us,” Yeonjun lisps under the dizzying volume, pointing at a group of three, “Shall we mingle?”
“I thought you didn’t do one night stands anymore.”
“And I thought you didn’t do Friends With Benefits.”
Beomgyu gifts him a glare, but there is no ill intention behind the stare, both knowing that the useless bickering is their banter.
It’s true. Yeonjun doesn’t do one night stands anymore. And he is not planning on going as far as sleeping with anyone tonight. But he’s still tangled up in a downwards spiral. Every beat of the song that’s blasting translates into a minor key in his head, reminding him of what he can’t have. Of who he can’t have.
Somehow him and Beomgyu get swept onto the dance floor. Yeonjun lets his body talk for him, finding that the intoxication pulls his body into moving, discovering in him the urge to shake off the bitterness that has his throat in a tight grasp. His head spins and it feels like the whole crowd is rocking along to Yeonjun’s heavily beating heart.
He is desperate to shake it all away once and for all. Wipe his mind clean. Wash away the image of Soobin walking away with his ex-lover. Erase those dimples, the curl of the lips, the puffed up cheeks, every feature he has ever wanted to trace with his lips, adore with light touches and affirming words, he is eager to erase everything he has spent years yearning for.
The temperature rises among the swarming bodies and Yeonjun barely notices the same face reappearing in his view every time he tries to fix his eyes on something, worn out from the flashes of colours. It is the same guy he noticed staring at him before, he has been dancing around him for what feels like a while, using every reposition of the crowd as the songs change to get closer to Yeonjun.
His sweat glistening skin is tanned, he’s muscular and aware of it, if the skin-tight black v-neck is anything to go by. The painfully obvious display of muscles makes Yeonjun want to snort, but as the guy closes the space by another inch and rasps in his ear “your tattoos are cool”, Yeonjun caves into the warmth of a stranger, moving his body along with the other’s. Just as Yeonjun lets the guy’s hands roam around his sides, there is a tight grip around his wrist and Beomgyu is pulling him out of the crowd.
The fogged up brain takes a second to process the relocation, but Beomgyu is dragging him to the sidelines, probably to lecture him or something, Yeonjun cannot grasp the severity of this sudden action from his friend. When nothing any sort of teasing or scolding comes out of the younger’s mouth, only a blissed out expression and a small smile spread across his features, Yeonjun can’t refrain a giggle from escaping.
They are both too tipsy to be sensible. Just when Yeonjun is about to turn back into the numbing comfort of a nameless crowd, Beomgyu pulls on his wrist Yeonjun had no idea he was still holding.
“W-what about Soobin?” Beomgyu hiccups, his eyes glossy and staring into Yeonjun’s.
“Soobinie…” Yeonjun savours the name on his tongue, blood rushing to his face, everything in him pulsating his mind into overload, “Soobinie doesn’t want me.”
His words too quiet for the booming club, too overflown with emotion for the method of escapism he has forced himself into.
He slips out of Beomgyu’s grasp and dives back onto the dance floor, where the perfect stranger welcomes him and his weary body. Yeonjun silences his thoughts, screaming louder than the music, and presses himself against the other, who doesn’t take a moment to accept what Yeonjun is offering and then there are hands everywhere and lips on lips, he’s kissing a man he doesn’t even know the name of, doesn’t care to know the name of, because he is not him anyways. The kisses progress to something heavier, tongues sliding against one another, hands grabbing whatever purchase they can find, the desperation persistently persuading Yeonjun to continue, bodies hot and flush against each other.
Yet every moment he feels a heat wave flash over his body, growing hyperaware of every sensation between their bodies.
Of every touch that is not his.
Of every inch of the body his up against not being his.
Of every thirstful kiss that is not shared with him.
But this is downwards spiral.
So Yeonjun gives the unnamed man a name that tastes familiar on his tongue already, tricking himself that the lips devouring him are someone else’s as he allows the stranger to nip at his jaw and dive into the soft flesh of his neck.
—
The morning traffic rising in volume gifts Soobin a rude awakening.
He has spread his long arms and legs diagonally across the mattress, finding the comforter not large enough for his height.
When he blinks the sleep away from his swollen eyes, it dawns on him.
Oh shit.
He forgot to set the alarm.
In a flurry of yesterday’s events, Sunghoon appearing, what he had said, it all gave Soobin another sleepless night, in the chilling quiet going over everything he is tired of going over and by the end of which fatigue bested him, finally drifting to sleep, unfortunately too deprived of it to set the alarm for early morning.
As things go, it all comes back to bite him in the ass and in a swish he rises up from the bed, bolts downstairs after throwing on yesterday’s clothes. He hobbles halfway to the door struggling to put on his black Vans, so his mother appears by the door just in time to berate him to tie his shoelaces because “if you trip and twist your ankle, don’t come crying to me, son”. Soobin has no choice but to comply, stealing him precious time he doesn’t have, then causing him to run two times faster to Bean Fairy.
With the spare key that Yeonjun gave him at the ready, he is already evaluating the validity of possible excuses he could defend himself with when he faces the technician he was supposed to let into the café like what - 40 minutes ago?!
Soobin promised Yeonjun that he’ll meet the technician hired to install the food display that morning, it was his idea to let Yeonjun sleep in, assuring him that he will manage showing the professional around and assist if necessary, yet here he is - horribly late and sweaty from the unforeseen exercise.
Soobin can’t help but feel as if he failed another test of adulthood, but when he reaches the café, panting in exertion, the door is unlocked and there are two figures already inside. He marches inside, accidentally making his entrance loud and somehow attention grabbing, because two pairs of eyes turn to him, anchoring his feet into the ground.
A man of age with a buzz cut in a dark blue uniform and suspenders, putting tools back in his box by the newly installed food display. And Yeonjun.
It takes a second for Soobin to find his breath.
Yeonjun in a striped long sleeved shirt and a black cap, covering his eyes and most of his face; he’s leaning against the wall, not as if to appear nonchalant and cool, rather like he is exhausted and in need of an extra support.
There’s that pang of guilt again.
“Thank you again, sir,” voice gruff, Yeonjun walks over to see the technician off and bow to him politely.
When the door slams shut and the man is gone, Soobin finds it in him to move again and he hurries to Yeonjun.
“Hyung, I am so sorry I was late, I-”
Yeonjun grimaces at Soobin’s volume and holds up a hand, gesturing to stop the franticness in Soobin’s words.
“No need to apologise,” he mutters.
Upon closer inspection, even the shade of the bill fails to mask the tiredness in Yeonjun’s droopy eyes. He looks frail again and Soobin swears that just yesterday he looked livelier and healthier and it does nothing to downplay the already existing ache to hide the boy from the rest of the world in his arms.
“Wait, but you showed. Did you not think I was gonna show up?” Soobin lets the question slip out, disliking how childish it sounds.
Yeonjun shrugs. It is eerily vague and crawls under his skin.
But the unpleasant feeling doesn’t even begin to dissolve. Because when Yeonjun turns around to get back to whatever task he is doing, Soobin doesn’t stop his eyes from roaming in search for some kind of an answer from the older boy, his gaze desperately interrogates to gain a clue of a sort in the never ending mystery of Choi Yeonjun.
And they land on something.
Making his insides twist in an uncontrollable malaise.
A lone splotch of bloomingly dark purple on Yeonjun’s pale neck.
The sight itself sends Soobin flying over the ledge, suddenly all balance lost as a whole bee hive begins to swarm in his stomach uncomfortably. The darkening hickey contrasts against Yeonjun’s porcelain skin, Soobin is staring at it for too long, but at what else could he possibly be looking at with an all-consuming feeling spewing out, making him force the bitter taste down his throat.
Jealousy.
Someone else has made their mark on Yeonjun.
Someone else’s lips grazed Yeonjun’s skin, someone else painted him for the world to see.
That someone is not him.
It is not Soobin’s business, he tells himself. Yeonjun is free to do whatever he wants, whoever he wants. He repeats this in his head to help stop the agonising emotions coursing through him restlessly, yet it results in surging back twofold.
That day he cannot concentrate on his tasks, even when Yeonjun puts on jazz, likely sensing the intensity of the silence. He swims away in his thoughts, trips over nothing and spills coffee on the counter and drops a bag of nails with a loud clink.
Dropping to his knees to hurriedly collect the nails dispersed on the floor, his harsh movements are cut short by a warm palm on his hand.
He looks up to meet Yeonjun’s eyes, breath hitching. The boy’s face has somehow brightened now, eyes opened up, save for a remaining tincture of exhaustion in them.
“Stop,” Yeonjun breathes out, not even a trace of command in what he is saying, “Soobinie, maybe we should just rest for today.”
It sounds like a reasonable idea given that Soobin can’t name one proper task he has done in the past hour. But there is a much more prominent feeling churning inside of him than tiredness. It demands Soobin to stay glued to Yeonjun’s side as long as possible. He hates the scarily powerful possessiveness in him surfacing, but it is much too strong for him to ignore.
“I don’t really wanna go home right now,” Soobin admits.
“No?” Yeonjun raises his eyebrow ever so slightly. It reads genuine question, and a bit of nervousness.
“No,” the word dangles, barely voiced, “I wanna stay with you, or- or- go somewhere… with you.”
Soobin’s eyes follow the grin slowly but surely making an appearance on Yeonjun’s lips.
“Then I might have an idea.”
“You have a Vespa?! You never told me-” Soobin grunts when a helmet is thrown at him, grasping it in his hands, all the while still admiring the sleek red vehicle that he had no clue was in Yeonjun’s possession.
Yeonjun smirks knowingly, amused by Soobin’s surprise, who still has his mouth agape, caught in a thought that Yeonjun just became impossibly more irresistible. Knowing his way around such luxurious scooter, flipping his hair back to secure a helmet on top, a pleased smile never leaving his face, it all enchants Soobin, like he is a schoolboy on his first proper date, butterflies in a craze, fluttering right out of his chest.
Under the biting wind and the gleaming streetlights, engulfed in a blanket of twilight, that is when Soobin feels free. With arms around Yeonjun’s torso, keen on holding onto him as tight as he can as Yeonjun steers the vehicle through the hollow streets of the town. In the breeze that flutter their hair vigorously, that sweet cotton scent of Yeonjun hits Soobin’s nose and he wants to be wrapped up in it, crawl inside of the warmth that Yeonjun’s body emits, flush against his, their body heat mingles in the cold forceful wind. The speed is bewildering and Soobin has the town right under his feet, the pathways he has memorised every crack in, the alleys and the glitching traffic lights, he’s on top of it all, conquered it all by the way he slides over and past and under, scattering particles of his laughter on the empty road.
The pathway dims as they exit the town and Soobin isn’t quite following where they are heading anymore, he’s high off of the engine roaring and the boy he doesn’t let go of the whole journey, so he throws his head back and watches the tree tops pass by; he wants to let out a shout caged in his ribcage and he cannot find a reason to hold himself back now, so he bellows, straining his vocal cords, setting free every single care in the world.
He feels Yeonjun chuckle right underneath the palms of his hands, feels the laughter rumble in Yeonjun’s chest and it inebriates him. So he shouts some more if only to feel the sensation of Yeonjun’s laughter again, the hollow sound rattling somewhere in his ribs and bumping against Soobin’s palms. Soobin tightens his hold around Yeonjun and presses his cheek against Yeonjun’s back, imprinting this feeling in his memory.
“Hyung where are we?” Soobin asks when they suddenly stop. He follows along Yeonjun in taking the helmet off.
Then he adjusts his eyes to the view laid in front of them.
They’re standing on the ledge of the highway, uphill, overlooking the town wrapped in the valley. Words have been taken out of Soobin. He is on mute, watching the fierce May sunset hues cuddle the hills and dip the town below in the most enticingly rich watercolours.
Their town.
Their town minimised, scenic, dollhouse sized, like small fairy lights the windows of the dollhouses lit up in warm tones. Soobin observes the town he has always known, but never seen like this, never felt it like this, like he’s an omnipresent watcher getting glimpses of the lives of many - having dinner somewhere inside of their yellow windows, kids brushing their teeth, getting ready for bedtime, someone is probably arguing, someone is making up, someone is making love, someone is falling in love and someone is falling out of it.
Soobin stands above, like he’s a narrator of this story. Of all of these stories.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Yeonjun’s reposeful voice cuts through.
He also has his eyes set on the view, darting here and there.
“It’s… I don’t even know how to describe it,” Soobin manages to say, not finding any words fitting for this.
“I come here whenever I want to think. It’s like I zoom out on my life. Look at it from above. It’s harder to do when you’re caught up in it,” Yeonjun explains in a quiet tone.
As teenagers they spent many sunsets on the river bank. They watched the horizon, itching to reach it, to see what lies ahead of it, curious and eager and fearless. Waiting to grow their wings.
But in the present moment, they have their town in front of them, a place and time of the here and now.
And two sets of broken wings.
On the side of the quiet highway there’s a strip of grass. Yeonjun plants himself down there and Soobin joins in next to him.
They sit in complete stillness, not uttering a word, yet there is a lot translating between them. Their exhales contain worries about future, their breathing communicates the wish to stay in the present, their proximity speaks about all-encompassing content with being here and being near.
Somehow Yeonjun’s head finds its way into Soobin’s lap, he uses his thighs as a cushion, rests his head facing up, towards the sky, towards Soobin, closes his eyes and sighs.
And just like that the spotlight from the view is stolen by the boy laying on him and he can’t bring himself to look elsewhere, thoughts and body and mind completely turned and focused on the way Yeonjun’s features visibly relax and ease.
He’s so beautiful under the streetlights and the setting sun.
The portrait of grace.
“Soobin-ah?” two eyes open to catch Soobin already staring shamelessly, “I have something to admit.”
Soobin hums lowly, trying not to disturb Yeonjun’s serenity, though his nerves buzz.
“These couple of months since you returned,” Yeonjun starts unsurely, “I have felt more alive than I have in a long while.”
Yeonjun’s words pulsate in his chest. He’s so close that Soobin wonders maybe he can hear Soobin’s pounding heart.
“And it scares me,” Yeonjun continues, but now in a whisper, like the sound barely goes past his lips. His eyes fall shut again.
“Why?”
“Because… Because I shouldn’t rely on you to give me that feeling. I should find it in me,” Yeonjun mumbles, dragging each word through so much uncertainty, fearing the implication of him admitting to that.
Soobin cards his hand through Yeonjun’s coal black hair. Yeonjun sucks in a breath. He feels that heaviness of Yeonjun’s head on his lap, it’s rooting him into that desire he has come to known.
“I feel alive too,” Soobin admits under his breath.
They don’t talk for a while, Soobin still slowly driving his hand through Yeonjun’s hair back and forth. For a moment he wonders if Yeonjun has fallen asleep, but the uneven breathing tells him he hasn’t.
His eyes trail down the slope of Yeonjun’s nose, down his cupid’s bow, down the cherry lips, down his chin landing on his neck. It bears the bruise, mauve violet in this light, it bears the trace of someone else on Yeonjun and there’s a new feeling born in the pit of Soobin’s stomach, the kind of feeling that overpowers any other.
Not knowing if he can, not knowing how to stop himself, his hand moves away from Yeonjun’s hair, travels downwards, fingers grazing the side of his cheek and his sharp jawline with feather-like touches.
Yeonjun’s eyelids are closed, his chest heaves as his breaths quicken.
That feeling flares up just as he stops his fingertips from sliding down Yeonjun’s neck, it is powerful, a sense of greed, demanding beyond Soobin’s comprehension.
As his fingertips ghost over Yeonjun’s neck, just above the bruise, that greed floods his senses in hot flames, his whole being drips with the desperate, overbearing want to take, to take more than he is allowed to.
He watches intently how Yeonjun’s Adam’s apple bobs, as he swallows thickly. And then Soobin’s fingers brush over the dark spot, ever so gently, Yeonjun’s plush lips part to let out a small, breathy gasp. He smooths his palm over the bruise, soothing it, careful not to inflict any pain, a shiver running across his bones at the contact, frowning having to swallow down the frustrating wish he could erase the evidence of another on Yeonjun’s body.
Soobin caresses the smooth skin, with his index finger traces lightly over the same spot again and again, giving each inch praise through his touches. Yeonjun is furrowing his brows and Soobin quickly runs his hand up to smooth the crease on his forehead with his thumb, hoping that that alone would delete the worry and the pain.
“Healing,” Soobin whispers, almost subconsciously.
“W-what did you say?” Yeonjun mutters, eyes fall open, lashes fluttering.
“Healing,” Soobin repeats matching the hushed tone, hand stroking over the tender skin of Yeonjun’s cheek, “You are my healing.”
He breathes out the last part in a single exhale.
Pearl shaped tears fall from the corners of Yeonjun’s eyes. They stream down the sides of his cheeks one after another and pool on Soobin’s jeans.
They don’t move away from each other. Soobin catches the tears in the pads of his fingers as soon as they escape his eyes and begin racing down his cheeks. They keep coming and he doesn’t stop wiping them away. One by one.
Soobin lets Yeonjun empty himself, assures him with each teardrop, each sniffle, each sob that he is not pulling away.
And when Yeonjun’s tears cease to fall, only trails of where they streamed left on his cheeks, Soobin still doesn’t retreat his hand, gliding it across every feature that deserves loving.
If he really was the narrator, this would be his story.
But what Sunghoon had told him rings in his head.
Notes:
yeonjun on that vespa in YOU concept photos is just too strong of a visual oof
Chapter 14: endings and beginnings
Notes:
hey babies, sorry for not posting last week. i was buying myself more time to finish up the last chapter so I can go through with this ff without hiatus. there really isn't much left, this and two more chaps so strap in!!
hope you enjoy the update <3
Chapter Text
On the park bench, the busy environment goes still.
Besides an old lady in a blue tracksuit working out on the park fitness equipment, they are alone there, away from the constant noise of the busy street.
None of them make a sound or a move for a while. But Soobin’s patience is wearing thin.
“So, why are you here?” he asks, turning to the other boy.
Amid the splotch of greenery in the town’s centre, nothing seems amiss. It’s serene and quiet.
Sunghoon exhales and it is the first sound he has let out in minutes.
“I’m sorry,” he simply says.
Soobin doesn’t know what to do with an apology. He wasn’t expecting one and he doesn’t think he deserves one anyway. When he opens his mouth to respond, Sunghoon beats him to it by continuing.
“I want us back.”
It’s the very thing Soobin feared hearing. He closes his eyes, willing away the hurt expression on Sunghoon’s face that he is about to cause. But time ticks faster than it should and Sunghoon must be even less patient, because once it spills, it doesn’t stop.
“Before you say anything, I want you to know that I regret the way I handled the situation. You’re right, I don’t know how it is for you,” Sunghoon casts his eyes downward, “I don’t know how you’re feeling, or what you want or if we’re ever gonna fully understand each other. But maybe we can try. Maybe we don’t have to be two peas in a pod in order to work.”
It’s the most regular Wednesday. Birds chirp away in bushes. The lady in blue tracksuit stretches after her workout. There couldn’t be any wrongs on a mundane day as such.
But everything in Soobin’s body is on high alert, a sign in bold red, making everything feel wrong about this. About them.
“Hoon, I can’t be with you.”
There is a pause. Something changes below the surface. Something changes in the core.
Sunghoon doesn’t say a word, he smoothes his hands over his black jeans. Not a single emotion slips out of his demeanour.
“Is it Yeonjun?” he then asks.
For the first time since they’ve met, Soobin is presented with a chance to be honest. To finally be true to himself, to Sunghoon. It does make his head feel a little light.
“Yes.”
Then again, nothing is said for a while. Light breeze fluttering through the tree leaves fills the void, and then the dust settles.
“We don’t have to be together, hyung,” Sunghoon attempts again, but a smidge of plea has appeared in his tone, “but I still care about you. And watching you throw away your life like that has been making me restless.”
Soobin clenches his fists subconsciously. He watches Sunghoon, who has his head dropped, licks his lips and puts his hands together, intertwining his fingers.
“You don’t understand, I see you. I see you better than you see yourself,” Sunghoon states and Soobin’s stomach twists in discomfort, “Regardless of the way you must be feeling in this moment, there is a life for you in Seoul and it is full of opportunities. And I cannot watch how you keep missing them. So I did this for you, I did this for you, I did-”
“What did you do?” Soobin questions anxiously and eyes the other boy carefully.
“I… Well, I sent your resume to a few employers.”
What?
“I’m sorry, you did what?!” Soobin breaks out.
The lightheadedness escalates, grasping the remaining bits of calm, but finding that he is running out too quick.
“And, hyung, those companies are impressed! The preliminary feedback has been nothing but positive. While others are fighting for their spots, these employers could be fighting for you!”
Nothing seems right anymore. Soobin’s ears feel clogged. He cannot hear this. Sunghoon could be right, but every voice in Soobin’s head is saying otherwise.
“You went behind my back,” Soobin bites, tasting the bitterness on his tongue.
“Call it what you want. But anyone who’s paying attention can see that you need a push.”
The glass, filled to the brim, gets overflown and it spills out before Soobin can even think to stop himself.
“How do you even know what I need??” Soobin lashes out, clenching and unclenching his fists to maintain some control over his words, “We haven’t had any contact for a month and you show up, assuming that this is what I need. How would you even know?”
Sunghoon stares at him, taken aback. He doesn’t provide any answers to the questions Soobin spewed out in anger.
“I am so tired of your mission to fix my insecurities. When you don’t even take the time to realise that I am not insecure! I am not directionless. I am not lost. And I am not helpless. I don’t need you to decide my life for me!” Soobin pants, every bit of confusion, desperation and exasperation pumping in his veins aggressively.
“Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have done this without your knowledge, but in the end you’ll be the one thanking me,” Sunghoon sighs, his voice stern yet calm as usual.
“No. You shouldn’t have done this, period.”
Soobin’s eyes bore a hole in Sunghoon, trying to latch onto any bit of explanation or clarity or closure. He looks into the eyes that once felt like a safe haven. Combing through the features of the younger boy, trying to find what exactly went wrong between them, what lead them to this situation.
Was it the distance? Was it Yeonjun?
Somehow none of these explanations work anymore, like they were valid pieces of justification when Soobin was nursing his heart after a breakup, but now they just aren’t anymore.
Because something tells him that even if no such obstacles occurred, their finish line would be the same breaking point.
No matter how you twist the scenario, the outcome remains the same.
And as he dives into Sunghoon’s deep brown eyes, probably for the last time, he sees a different picture. Or rather - he sees a mirror.
He sees a boy who picks himself up, consistently without a hitch, a boy driven by success, fuelled by his achievements, finding gain in his wins, finding gain in his losses. He sees a boy who puts in the work, refuses offers from a silver platter, he sees a boy, a man that encourages the ones he cares about to keep moving forward. Whatever that means in his own terms.
He sees a boy he wished he was. A kind of person he always thought he should have been, for the sake of his mother, for the sake of his future, for the sake of his community.
When he first saw Sunghoon skate, he was enchanted. Not by infatuation with him, but the infatuation to be him. An ideal. An example.
Then he must have mixed up the latter with the former.
The displeasure dies down. His fists loosen. The anger in the pit of his stomach turns to ash, leaving only a dusting of dread.
Then he speaks again.
“Hoon, I know you care,” Soobin heaves out a sigh, “It’s just different from what I can accept.”
In the serenity they remain wrapped up in by the park, something ends. But it is not a screeching, forceful halt, howling in its resistance. It is the long-awaited solace in the consummation of something whose blooming beauty has given enough fruits into the world.
And then finally - closure.
———
“Thank you, sir, but I will have to decline your offer,” Soobin chews his lip with his phone pressed to his ear.
By the end of the week, it is the third job interview invitation that he has turned down. Sunghoon wasn’t lying when he said he’d be hot on the market. Something about Soobin’s resume must’ve been appealing to the employers. Be it his previous position, important enough for his age, be it good recommendations or his SNU education. In all honesty, Soobin hasn’t given it much thought, only lingers on how did Sunghoon even get his hands on Soobin’s file, but then quickly remembers in embarrassment that he had actually sent it to the other, whenever Sunghoon was setting up his own CV and needed an example.
By every offer he denies, he gets more uneasy. There is a part of him that deems it nonsensical to ignore these opportunities. But another part, a much more persistent one, itches to finish what he has started here. Yet there is this evident feeling blooming in his chest, scaring Soobin out of his mind. That he wants to stay.
The feeling would require him to redefine everything he has planned about his life thus far. So he hides it under the the thick layer of the unfinished task as his main subject to check off the mental bucket list.
Until he does.
The day comes when it all falls together.
Bean Fairy is ready to open its doors again, ready to welcome in admirers of its newfangled beauty. And another end is nearing, but Soobin doesn’t dare name it.
On the last day before reopening, it all sinks in. The ceiling frames with hanging plants drape over the dining area, it is the last puzzle piece in the telling of this story of the miracle of everyday magic.
Soobin lets his eyes wander around the finished work, something like pride and overwhelm swelling in his chest. He stands in the middle of their creation, like a kid who finally allows himself to believe in the manifestation of a wish.
Two arms wrap around his waist from behind. Caught off guard, his breath catches in his throat unreleased and hitched, and as grip tightens there is that spike in the beat of his heart that he has grown familiar with throughout the years of being close to the boy.
“Soobin-ah,” Yeonjun breathes into the soft material of Soobin’s shirt, forehead rested against the taller’s back, “I need to tell you something, but please don’t say a thing, don’t turn around, stay like this, I will not be able to hold back tears if I look at you.”
Something in Yeonjun’s voice haws. It evokes a tremor, but Soobin’s body stays paralysed.
Thinking that he needs to signal an approval to the other, he plants his palms atop Yeonjun’s, still resting in a tight hold around Soobin. Both of their bodies are warm and the heat mingles at the light touch, sending Soobin’s head spinning.
Yeonjun takes a deep breath. The rest of the world stops moving.
“I was never meant to own the Fairy,” Yeonjun speaks, his words frail, “It all happened right after you left. The old owner… He was ready to retire. My parents saw an opportunity. They had wanted to own a business for so long. The paperwork and the licensing took a while, but after a tiring process, they could call themselves owners of the café. T-they were happy. Excited. I had never seen them so excited. They had a vision of how the Fairy could look like. Bought a lot of shiny new stuff. Saw that as an investment.”
Yeonjun sighs before the next part and Soobin holds his breath.
“It was just before they wanted to start renovating. It was late. And dark. They were driving home from a meeting. Just two of them in the car. On a night like that they could have never expected a crash that severe. Drunk driver on the opposite lane lost control of his vehicle. It only lasted a second. No one survived. Not the drunk, choosing to go behind the wheel that day, not the two innocent souls that he decided to place at risk with his irresponsible actions.”
Soobin exhales, closes his eyes, feeling every bit of the weight in the words press down on his chest.
“But Soobin, they were full of joy. They were delighted to start something new,” Yeonjun’s voice breaks, as he breathes out against Soobin’s nape, “I-I could only continue living because of that. B-because when it happened, I imagine that they were happy too. That probably they were smiling, discussing business matters. That there was an old tune playing on the radio quietly, filling the background of the cushy chatter. That it happened so fast the glee couldn’t have been wiped out by horror.”
Soobin’s body refuses to cooperate, listening how everything Yeonjun reveals soaks into his skin, his bones, makes it heavy and difficult to control his erratic breaths. He squeezes his hands over Yeonjun’s where they rest on Soobin’s stomach, notifying that he is listening, that he feels everything on his own skin.
“I was never meant to run the café. It was my parents’, it, it was theirs. I was Next of Kin to mom and dad. Inherited what I didn’t know what to do with. I was clueless, Soobinie. I couldn’t- couldn’t touch the stuff that my parents bought. It felt unfair. Like I shouldn’t be the one doing this, shouldn’t be the one deciding. And I think I never knew what to do with this place until-… Until you came along.”
Soobin lets himself breathe after what feels like hours, the lack of oxygen reddening his cheeks. He swallows, letting in the mourning Yeonjun is discharging with his body flush against Soobin’s, it’s like he transports the heaviness, finally releases it to transform into floating mutual consciousness.
Soobin discovers something in him. He is desperate, longing to see Yeonjun. To look into the grief stricken eyes, to note each star of the broken constellations in his orbs, the need to kiss it better, to take even an ounce of affliction away, the wish his loving touches had the boundless ability to heal.
“Yeonjun hyung?” he asks unsurely.
Yeonjun hums in question.
“Can I look at you?”
There is a pause with their bodies still unmoving. Then, the warmth of Yeonjun slips away, he untangles his arms reluctantly and turns to face Soobin.
Soobin opens his mouth and closes it again, failing to find anything satisfactory enough to say to the boy, blanched and with tear-shimmered eyes glistening under the soft lights of the Fairy.
“I would lose my job a hundred times over just to be here with you now,” he settles on that, tone gentle and careful.
And they don’t have to say more. But moving away and returning to whatever is happening around them doesn’t seem like an option either. Here in this moment, in the ambient silence passing like the first placid breeze of the summer, devoid of any aggression or frost, it seems alright. Everything seems alright. And they don’t venture out of the comforting circle of just the two of them.
It is so right to be near Yeonjun. If he could lean in and-
“Surprise!!” what feels like an army barge through the entrance door, shouting in unison, Taehyun first, followed by Kai and Beomgyu shortly after. Jumping away from Yeonjun, Soobin’s eyes go wide, then Taehyun is quick to shake a bottle of champagne before popping it open in an intrusion of a sound among the remaining bits of stillness. Rain of champagne sprinkles down the next moment along with sounds of cheer from the rest and Yeonjun’s features twist from surprise to shock to terror, watching the sticky liquor stain the new floor.
Though instead of scolding, Yeonjun scans the label on the drink in Taehyun’s hand, trickling down the bottle and Taehyun’s fingers, then his jaw goes slack.
“Taehyun, you made champagne shower out of fucking Moët?!” Yeonjun marvels.
“Thought the new Fairy needed a proper initiation,” Taehyun’s lips curve into a smirk, “Besides, I brought some more for us to drink.”
He gestures at two more bottles of Moët that Beomgyu is gripping in his hands like his life depends on it.
Soobin did know that Taehyun’s family is quite well-off, but not so much to waste an expensive sparkling wine as such for an entertainment that lasts five seconds at best.
They welcome the three of them inside and show around the place, still smelling of fresh paint and new wooden furniture, drawing out “oh’s” and “ah’s” from the easily excitable crowd. Beomgyu stays glued to Taehyun’s side yet averts his gaze and lets it linger on the new editions of the café, his secret antics to be close to the other boy quite obvious to the rest of them.
Even when all five sit down by one of the bigger tables, Kai hastily filling juice glasses with foaming champagne after Yeonjun couldn’t find any flutes, Beomgyu sits close enough to the blonde haired to have their knees brushing under the table. Soobin wonders how tiring it must get to keep up with this game, both clearly head over heels for one another, both too fearful to confess. As frustrating as it may be to watch this, they’re all adults and Soobin made up his mind when it comes to not sticking his nose in their business. They will work it out themselves, he thinks right when Taehyun passes Beomgyu his assigned glass, the speed of his movements decreasing to painfully slow when their fingers meet.
Then he trails his eyes to Yeonjun.
He is shining.
Shimmer in his eyes and colour filling his cheeks from the drink and the chatter and the praise, the looks of awe from the three, eyes going around the room to observe the finished product. It’s like he soaks it in, finally letting himself do so.
Soobin is staring for too long, even when Yeonjun catches him doing it, he’s still gawking at his beauty.
It was all worth it.
“I would like to raise a toast,” Yeonjun announces, standing up with a glass in hand.
The conversation dies down, now four pairs of eyes turned to the speaker, eyeing him expectantly.
“I honestly didn’t prepare anything hah,” Yeonjun clears his throat and laughs nasally, “But first of all thank you guys for the surprise, the champagne tastes divine and I’m sure it spilling all over my new floor didn’t do permanent damage.”
Beomgyu grins ear-to-ear, fixing the front strands of his hair with his index finger.
“And Soobin,” Yeonjun continues after a frisky exhale, eyes turning to stare into Soobin’s, earning Soobin’s cheeks to start burning, “You know. You just know. Saying this in words seems cheesy and pointless. I am going to take good care of this place, because it feels like you gifted it to me.”
Soobin averts his eyes, flustered. He didn’t make a big sacrifice or gift a grand gesture to secure a win of his own, to gain something from the other.
But Yeonjun looking at him like this feels too damn good.
After the toast is done and they cheer and drink, the laughter and the chat bubbles up again, but Soobin still sits kind of stuck in those loops once more - in Yeonjun’s eyes and the months together cramped up in the café, the blue jeans Yeonjun wore and the paint splatter on them, black framed glasses and delicate fingers skimming through the toolbox, R&B playing somewhere in the back, making Yeonjun’s head bob involuntarily as he flashes another one of those smiles that sends Soobin’s insides into turmoil.
Maybe this is another end.
But it’s one Soobin is scared to truly come and diminish the comfortable mundanity of everything Yeonjun does, making it a memory, a thing of the past.
Beomgyu puts on his playlist on the speakers, more glasses are emptied and a light buzz is building its way up to Soobin’s head. He catches Yeonjun’s eyes, they still sparkle, just with added intensity now, or maybe it’s champagne dropping pink shades in front of Soobin's eyes.
“Kitchen,” Yeonjun mouths at Soobin soundlessly, gesturing at the kitchen door.
They both tiptoe to the safety of kitchen, away from the volume of the younger ones expressing their opinions about the best brands of instant ramen with way too much enthusiasm.
The silence engulfs them, tune that’s playing now offset, blanketed by thick walls.
“I don’t know how to repay you,” Yeonjun mutters after Soobin turns to meet his eyes overflowing with sincerity.
“You don’t have to,” Soobin says and he’s genuine.
“Thank you doesn’t seem like enough,” Yeonjun sighs and leans into Soobin, wraps him in an embrace, placing his head under Soobin’s chin.
Soobin responds immediately, snaking his arms around Yeonjun’s body, inhaling his cotton perfume and the hints of citrus in his shampoo, feels it surge to his head faster than alcohol.
“Thank you,” Yeonjun whispers still, words thick with a lot more than just gratitude.
It’s a moment Soobin would hate to end.
“Do you want to dance?” is the next thing Yeonjun asks, albeit timidly.
It’s the same reused tactic when they find themselves not knowing what to say or do next.
Soobin nods and Yeonjun leans away from Soobin’s chest, guides Soobin’s hands to rest on his waist and sets his own on top of Soobin’s shoulders and starts moving both of them slowly, Soobin’s heart thumping in his ears.
Soobin sways his body along with Yeonjun, limbs loosening and losing mass, a new wave of content bubbling up in his chest.
That is the miracle of Yeonjun.
That everything else melts away, it all succumbs like dust to the magnetic pull.
It’s like the whole city of Seoul oozing with evergreen life could never had made him feel more alive than he does in this moment with Yeonjun in his hold. His whole existence, everything he has known about the universe, about the confusing, hurtful, beautiful meaning of living, about the irreversible condition of loving someone, it all centers in on one person.
He has never wanted anyone so badly.
“Do you ever wish there was a redo button?” Yeonjun whispers, breath hitting Soobin’s lips, hands on his arms, guiding him into a slow dance.
“All the time,” Soobin rushes out, masking the want pouring out of his tone.
The song changes to another one, more upbeat and cheery, but they keep swinging in the same sultry slow rhythm, wrapped up in their own little world.
“Sometimes a do-over is the only thing I think to wish when I see a shooting star, or blow out candles on a cake,” Yeonjun purrs, an implication of a kind hiding behind his words, urging Soobin to inquire further.
“Do-over for what?”
Everywhere where Yeonjun plants a touch - on his arm, his elbow, his waist - it lingers there for a while longer, Yeonjun’s skin splaying sun glitter on Soobin’s.
“Like our first kiss,” Yeonjun barely breathes out a sound, gazing at Soobin through his dark eyelashes, with eloquent and focused eyes that read something different now.
As soon as it reaches Soobin’s ears, he can’t move his body anymore. The room around him and Yeonjun is spinning.
“What?” he coughs out dryly.
“Yeah, I mean,” Yeonjun breaks eye contact, cheeks painted in rosy pink hue, “It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good either. You were great, but I was the one being awkward.”
What?
It’s like the blood in his veins freezes, mind taken back to that sun glazed afternoon with clammy hands and red cheeks.
Green tea body wash.
Indistinctive sounds of the radio.
The puff of mint and the sensation of their lips connected.
Soobin must have had a very colourless experience with kissing onwards. Because what Yeonjun is describing as neither good nor bad, is the most intimate, most meaningful kiss he has ever shared with anyone.
His hands grow stiff on Yeonjun’s waist, and his eyes trail to Yeonjun’s lips, plump and accentuated with a light red tint, impossible to resist, impossible to peel eyes away from. Pulling in steadily, consistently, repeatedly in this moment, just as on that afternoon.
The sun glitter on Soobin’s skin turns into little flames, idly dancing wherever Yeonjun’s fingertips trace and eventually his whole body catches on fire. He is consumed by the heat, flames engulf his mind, burn everything relentlessly, sparing only a single thing left on Soobin’s mind.
Words have dried up on his tongue, the buzzing in his head intensifies just as the implication of what Yeonjun says sinks in, the implication of a redo.
He must have misread something. Because what Yeonjun might be offering is the single thing Soobin craves most in the world.
Unable to decipher conscious mind from that overwhelming want, he is leaning in unknowingly, needing to be closer to Yeonjun, even if just by an inch.
“Y-you want to try again?” Soobin whispers brokenly, every centimetre he conquers leaves the rest feeling even more excruciating.
Yeonjun stares at Soobin’s lips, gaze unwavering when Soobin slides his tongue to wet his bottom lip.
He has never wanted anyone so badly.
Yeonjun nods. Weakly. And it’s all Soobin needs to see. He feels his whole being surrendering to the magnetic pull.
Heart thumping wildly, feeling completely out of his mind, he surges forward. The movement is fast, it’s forceful and their lips crash together harshly, Soobin quickly securing his hand on the back of Yeonjun’s head so that he doesn’t slip away.
They’re kissing.
Soobin is kissing Yeonjun. He’s kissing Yeonjun after years of drought.
The flames in his body devour him, eat him up at the way Yeonjun’s fist grips at the front of his shirt, yanking him impossibly closer, lips working over Soobin’s with great diligence.
Soobin, drunk off of the sweet taste of Yeonjun, slides his hand down Yeonjun’s back, pulling him to himself, desperate to erase any distance left between their hot bodies, to which Yeonjun leans his head back just enough to answer to the sudden action with a gasp against Soobin’s lips, but Soobin is insatiable and impatient and they both can’t pull apart, can’t think clearly anymore, are way past thinking, when Soobin dives back in to consume Yeonjun’s lips like it is the only thing that can quench his thirst.
The kisses turn hungrier. More demanding. Yeonjun angles his head to the side, slips his tongue past Soobin’s lips and Soobin savours the champagne on Yeonjun’s tongue and the hot sensation coursing though him, wants more and more by every passing second of their mouths pressed together.
He doesn’t dare come up for air, starved and deprived of Yeonjun his whole life, driven by those vicious flames.
Soobin sneaks his hand under the hem of Yeonjun’s shirt, fingertips coming in contact with the heat of Yeonjun’s bare skin. It tingles, everything in Soobin does and he glides his fingers up Yeonjun’s back where it arches, causing Yeonjun to whimper brokenly in Soobin’s mouth, the other swallowing the sound immediately in a bruising kiss. In the heat of the moment, Yeonjun takes Soobin’s lower lip in between his teeth and pulls on it before quickly releasing it and running his tongue over where he bit to soothe the ache.
It sends another wave of flames across Soobin’s body and he dazedly thinks he might go crazy.
“God, hyung, you’re so hot,” Soobin rasps in between wet kisses, drawing out a muffled whine from Yeonjun, the sound driving him mad with the desire to take more.
He’s not thinking anymore.
But he has never wanted anyone this badly.
Cursing himself for needing to breathe, he disconnects their lips, rests his forehead against Yeonjun’s and with eyelids still heavy and heart still beating out of his chest, he keeps feeling Yeonjun on his lips, on his tongue, like a drug that Soobin is addicted to, withdrawals setting in the moment the pulls away and Soobin is left instantly replaying memory of the taste and the touch.
They pant against each other’s mouths, breaths mingling, both hands resting at the napes of one another’s necks, balancing themselves through the unbelievable wave of heat.
Then, everything loses colour at once.
Like after a fiery explosion, the silence becomes ten times more deafening and Soobin’s legs freeze up at the realisation that sets in.
He kissed Yeonjun.
Soobin swears he hears an alarm go off. Chills run across his spine.
He gathers all his body strength to pull apart from Yeonjun, feeling like forcing every muscle to move away, immediately feeling cold at the loss of Yeonjun’s warm breath ghosting over Soobin’s mouth.
Blissed out, skin still burning all over, the rest of the scene crumbles as the only thing in his periphery is Yeonjun with his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths, eyes fixed somewhere on his shoes. The sight sends Soobin free-falling, gut sinking horrifyingly fast, dropping down to his toes.
The music, the kitchen, their friends’ muffled laughter now speeding away, millions of miles away, everything a mere blur, an ubiquitous fog blanketing the two bodies, minutes with the pressing weight of hours and Yeonjun’s eyes still on the floor, not sparing even the smallest glance at Soobin.
Oh shit.
Every second that passes without Yeonjun looking up to meet Soobin’s eyes, without a clever comment, without a witty recovery line for the situation, without a shrug of shoulders, without any response is what clenches Soobin’s insides, stirring nausea in his stomach.
It only escalates every moment, reality shoots through his body; that he was the one to lean in and capture his lips, that he was the one deepen the kiss, that it was his hand that slid up Yeonjun’s back, that it was his words of praise, hot against Yeonjun’s lips, that he took all of it, consumed and parched, a desperate response to Yeonjun’s initiation to recreate an innocent kiss they once shared as teenagers.
And now Yeonjun, still not looking at him, still failing to speak and Soobin knows he’s the culprit, feels it in his bones. He’s the cause of a colossal rift rupturing right before his eyes.
And what he loves most in the world drops down the rift hundreds of feet.
He has messed everything up.
He has made everything more complicated.
Soobin panics.
“Oh my God, hyung, I’m s-sorry, I didn’t- didn’t mean to- I-” Soobins blurts in a haze, frantic to save himself, to save them.
Yeonjun finally looks up at him.
And his features twist and Soobin is unable to read it, only sees that the boy he is in love with, so fucking in love with that it poured out, keeps on pouring out, has his eyes sunk.
Still standing in the middle of the kitchen, tune bouncing from outside of the walls, struck by panic, Soobin is staring at Yeonjun in front of him, whose lips are red from kissing, with a tint in cheeks and breaths still coming out unevenly.
He’s there.
But he has already disappeared.
Chapter 15: what would it feel like if you tore me apart?
Notes:
babies, here we go! oh my god can you hear my heart beating fast?
the last chapter before the final one. the longest one this story will ever see, containing whopping 11k words... so imma need you to buckle up and grab a snack or something and omg why am i nervous posting this??? be still my heart..
some song recommendations for this chapter:
hurts - blind
hurts - help
sam smith - the thrill of it all
the neighbourhood - the beach
content warnings:
- mentions of death
- PTSD episode
Chapter Text
There’s a crack in the ceiling. Spots where paint has chipped, torn down by tape. Neighbour kids are mindlessly shouting, that sound is piercing through the paper thin walls.
There are many flaws.
But as Soobin looks around the apartment, all of the imperfections minimise in his eyes with the effects of adrenaline shooting through him, with the taste of independent life right on the tip of his tongue.
There are no obstacles, no problems beyond the ability of figuring it out.
“It really is a shame that I am not able to meet the other tenant,” the low voice of the broker rumbles, “the landlord is quite specific about making sure the tenants are real people, available to move in right away.”
His words sound stern and in any other situation this tone would pull Soobin into turbulence, but he can’t seem to shift his focus to anything other than a new phase dawning.
For him.
For Yeonjun.
For them.
“The other tenant is not in the city right now, but I assure you, sir, he’s very much real, and I am very much set on this apartment, I am just waiting for his approval” Soobin smiles at the broker politely.
The broker presses his lips together. His eyes are narrow and dull, cheekbones sharp and a grim dark blue tie fixed tightly around his neck.
“Mr. Choi, I hope you realise how time-bound this offer is. As soon as another tenant agrees to make the down payment, the offer is gone,” he firmly explains.
That should be enough to bring Soobin back to the quite serious reality of the situation, but his mind and body is in the feather-like clouds already, head spinning with dizzying speed at the idea of sharing something with Yeonjun. Images of Yeonjun’s bed hair as he chomps on fried rice first thing in the morning, sat by that small dining table situated in the very corner of the room, offering only half a response of a nod to Soobin’s scratchy “Good morning, hyung.” The sounds that the busy street below would make, hectic morning traffic among the big city bustle, inviting and luring both of them, attracting the boys, freshly escaped from their small town, enraptured under Seoul’s indestructible life.
And they would pick their outfits by that single small closet in the bedroom they would share, hips bumping due to lack of space, hearts thumping in excitement, both keen on looking their best on the overcrowded streets, both eager to be swept away by Seoul’s compelling influence.
And when the sun would go down, but the noise wouldn’t die, they would come home to each other day after day, after moments spent reinventing themselves, finding themselves anew, then, finally, slipping back into the security of each other, the safety of just the two of them, a remaining constant in a world of change.
It would be true.
It would all come to life for Soobin and Yeonjun.
It would. If Yeonjun had answered his phone.
Soobin tried calling him at least twenty times. Leaving more than a dozen messages in between attempts to reach Yeonjun by phone. But as the line remained silent, his texts grew more urgent.
Soobin:
hiii, can we talk?
delivered 10:43 am
i tried calling, but you wouldn’t pick up
delivered 11:01 am
are you busy?
delivered 12:34 pm
it’s okay if you are just call me back asap
delivered 1:20 pm
hey, please call me back?
delivered 2:01 pm
alright, so i don’t know where you are but i’ll be checking out an apartment for us this afternoon
they’ll need an answer right away
delivered 3:55 pm
the location is great, you would love it
delivered 3:56 pm
alright i’m meeting the broker now, call me when you can
delivered 4:58 pm
hyung?
delivered 5:11 pm
Soobin’s cries fall into abyss. Yeonjun still hasn’t replied. And he must give an answer now.
And perhaps this is what finally penetrates Soobin’s little cloud of bliss.
Yeonjun’s sudden absence didn’t fit into Soobin’s perfect little scenario he had laid out in front of him. The unexplained lack of response, upsetting and worrying as it is already, didn’t fit into that domestic scene planted in Soobin’s head - of Yeonjun’s messed up morning hair, hurried meals and shared closet space. It didn’t fit into Soobin’s daydream of seeing Yeonjun’s fox-like eyes first thing after waking up, squinting from the sensitivity to the morning sun. It didn’t fit into that plan of coming home to Yeonjun every single day.
Yeonjun should have responded by now.
But where was his reply?
During the first eventful months of apartment hunting, beginning of his studies and impatiently counting down the days until Yeonjun would call to announce his acceptance into the fashion program, not once the idea that something might go wrong crossed Soobin’s mind.
Nothing would deviate them from the plan.
The plan was clear.
Soobin starts his studies in Seoul while Yeonjun finishes up a prerequisite course back in their hometown for the fashion school and gets accepted for the spring semester, arrives in Seoul just in time when Soobin has secured accommodation for the both of them.
The plan was sealed, delivered to the universe to take care of.
That was the plan.
That’s how it should have been.
And Yeonjun should’ve replied by now.
Soobin feels his hands start to sweat, suddenly hyperaware of the long time he has gone without hearing Yeonjun’s voice. Yearning to have him by his side again. Yearning to have his human.
He dials the number again, fingers shaky and clumsy, gliding across the phone screen.
He hears his breathing as he listens to the rings follow one after another, each more hollowing than the previous one.
Then, at last, comes a voice on the other end.
It’s Yeonjun.
And the broker, gaze disinterested up until now, catches sight of Soobin visibly paling, gripping the phone in his hand, finally getting an answer he has been desperate for the whole day.
But it’s not the answer he expected.
“What- what do you mean you didn’t get accepted?” Soobin breathes into the phone so quietly, voice barely loud enough to make an actual sound.
The broker’s eyes flash sympathy for the first time, reading the situation from Soobin’s expression shattering.
And in the apartment that was almost theirs, that was supposed to be theirs, the budding promise of a starting point of their lives together still whirring in the air, the broker witnesses all life in Soobin’s eyes sizzle out.
———
“Show me what you got,” Yeonjun whispers, the puff of his breath electrifying against Soobin’s lips.
He hushes the words coming past his pretty plush lips by fiercely moulding both of theirs together, catching Yeonjun’s bottom lip in between his teeth again and again, building the intensity of their shared heat.
And it’s like he receives a signal before it happens, like a déjà vu, knows already how it’s gonna play out when his fingertips leave caresses on the skin of Yeonjun’s arms, the boy starts melting away. Every inch of his skin disintegrates into sand, elusive and fluid, the boy in his arms turns into an unstoppable stream of a million little grains slipping through his fingers and out of his grasp.
And he is left clutching the air of where Yeonjun used to be, the wave of familiar warmth dissolving into darkness and Soobin-
Soobin snaps his eyes awake, sitting up on his bed, shaking off the tight hold the dream still has on him.
After reaching state of full awareness, Soobin takes a couple inhales and exhales, eyes darting across the room, the familiar dream leaving his heart beating faster, a lone pulse reverberating in his dark old bedroom.
It’s not the first time Yeonjun visits him in his dreams. Especially since their shared moment in the kitchen, Soobin spends every waking moment putting it on loop in his head, increasing his anxiety levels to the point where not even sleep can detain him from reliving finally having Yeonjun only to lose him entirely the very next moment.
Then he is left battling with sleep, chasing after it but never catching up to it.
This time Soobin refuses to fall into that trap. Feeling fully awake, he slips into his jeans, puts on his dirty Vans, and lets his lungs fill with deliciously crisp night air as his feet hit the beaten track of his hometown.
He roams around the streets devoid of a single living soul, the soles of his shoes creating sound against the concrete in a soundless vacuum. He walks without searching for a destination, lets his presence levitate over the familiarity of everything, of every pole, every turn, every traffic light. That familiarity that breaks him, that familiarity that puts him back together. It’s that familiarity that holds him back and that moves him forward.
His history is sown everywhere around here - written on the sidewalk, the bare walls of the buildings, it’s stretched across the sky. It’s the writings that he has spend days, months, years peeling away from here. Roots he has been gravely plucking and planting elsewhere.
That day when Yeonjun told him he’s not coming to Seoul, that day when Soobin turned his back to the apartment they would have shared, that day he apologetically bowed to the broker for wasting his time, humiliated and shattered, that day he got to working on eliminating his past self from here, slowly, steadily weeding out the remaining bits of him he left here.
And just months ago he returned to these same streets, feeling as if he had lost all of it, lost his childhood, lost his hometown, lost his best friend. As if it all was stripped away from him, as if he was locked out by the unfailing force of life taking its own course. A poor victim to falling out of circle of Yeonjun and his world - the world that was theirs.
Yet now, on the streets that never changed, everything has.
He finally recognises his own unconscious doing: the late replies to Taehyun and Kai’s texts after moving to Seoul, the superficiality taking over their conversations, the eventual falling out of contact. The infrequent visits to his mother, the short trips here just when it was non-negotiable, then quick to board the first bus back to Seoul.
The confusion, the dejection, the swelling twinge in his chest after Yeonjun failed to come, failed to start a life with Soobin, failed to fulfil his side of the promise, the way Soobin swallowed it all down the next time he called Yeonjun, emotions working him to tears as he forced them not to fall, trying to remain optimistic for Yeonjun, trying to appear as if he hadn’t lost everything he had hoped for with his beginning in the new city. And how the pretending to be alright became easier by every call, how he found ways to convince himself that their conversations ending quicker, more abruptly didn’t leave a hole in his heart, how they then decreased in amount, then faded into an irregular, nonchalant exchange of short texts, which then ceased to exist entirely.
He never lost anything.
He severed those ties one at a time. He did it himself, out of consternation, out of feeling like maintaining the ties would destroy him, knowing full well he has always been subject to the magnetic powers of the pull, every time, without a miss.
So he wanders around, thoughts louder than the rustling of the breeze, and sees everything in a different light, sees his attempts to extract his identity away from here out of hurt, out of self defence. No longer is he immaturely banging his fists against the table, crying and whining for how life unfairly took his childhood away from him, rather he is awestruck by the realisation that he took part in taking it away.
Soobin’s aimless stroll leads him to the 24/7 convenience store, with its buzzing light casting a piercing beam on the sidewalk, attracting moths and flies that dance all around.
The store is the only spot that contains some kind of life in the dead of the night. It’s the only place that is let in on the dirty little secrets of the town, it witnesses lovers grabbing cigarettes amid their walk of shame from the love motel, a depressed husband, a working man seeking comfort in soju bottles, intoxicated youngsters slurring fogged words to each other as they grab a bite to fill their stomachs.
Yet tonight of all nights even the liveliest of places wither. It’s awfully quiet inside, the brilliant white lighting impales his vision. The young cashier is slouched over a plastic chair by the cash register, chews on his cuticle paying no mind to the customer, eyes drilled into his phone screen. The bags under his eyes and acne scars across his cheek, Soobin recognises this appearance as that of a student’s who is probably desperate for some money, working night shifts into exhaustion.
There’s one other customer, bent over the single table in the far back of the store, black hoodie draped over his delicate shoulders, dark beanie almost falling over his eyes as he slurps in a mouthful of ramen noodles, then hisses at the spiciness.
Soobin’s heart stops beating.
He takes steps towards him, mindless and light, like the air itself is pulling him and making him move, setting his gaze to the puff of his cheeks as he chews, flaring in red from the hot food.
Then the recipient of Soobin’s piercing stare senses a figure approaching and snaps his eyes up from his cup of noodles and they widen upon seeing unexpected company.
Then a breath catches in Soobin’s throat, Yeonjun’s eyes droop signalling tiredness, he looks small in his oversized hoodie and Soobin finds himself wishing Yeonjun was wearing one of his.
“Soobinie,” Yeonjun whispers and it’s not a question, rather an acknowledgment.
“Hyung,” Soobin exhales, his voice shaking along with his heart that is going haywire in his chest, all of the memories of them kissing, of Soobin’s hand riding up Yeonjun’s back, of their tongues dancing in each other’s mouths resurfacing and pumping warmth into his face.
Not saying more, not wanting and not knowing what to say to the person that steals all of his thoughts and robs him of his sleep, he takes a seat opposite of Yeonjun and sets his hands atop the table.
Yeonjun watches him through his dark lashes.
And fuck, he missed him.
It’s only been a few days, he tells himself, but that doesn’t do anything to the sudden feeling of panic seeping through his skin for not having seen Yeonjun, alarming him of all of the things that could have happened to the other boy without being near him. He grows conscious of the limited moments he’s allowed to have with Yeonjun until they will pass on, the intrusive, existential sense of temporality gripping and shaking his whole body, leaving taste of uneasiness in its wake.
Then he looks into Yeonjun’s eyes again and the panic stills.
Yeonjun, unaware of the random wave of anxiety still riding out through Soobin’s limbs, blinks at Soobin, wearing a pout and Soobin doesn’t know how to stop himself from dropping his eyes to stare at his lips, still soft and fiercely pink due to the spicy kind of ramen Yeonjun likes the most. Soobin thinks it can’t be good for his health to see them so inviting and tempting after days and nights of wondering how it would feel to have a taste again.
He wants to kiss him again, has to or he might just go mad.
“Are we- are we okay?” Yeonjun asks unsurely and darts his eyes across Soobin’s face examining his features.
It is a loaded question.
Soobin is not okay.
He wants Yeonjun, feels his body respond to the closeness, feels his body being pulled closer and the sense is so strong, it is unlike anything Soobin has ever felt for anyone.
But the we that Yeonjun is interrogating about is not the we inside Soobin’s head, can never be the we inside Soobin’s head. It’s the we that are okay, have to be okay, because they are Soobin and Yeonjun, they are the we that are stronger than all of this.
“Yes.”
There is only one answer.
Yeonjun doesn’t mask the breath of relief that comes out the second Soobin replies.
And Soobin can’t stop his hand that reaches to tuck away a single black strand of hair from Yeonjun’s face, peeking out from the beanie. His hand moves organically, almost like muscle memory, a small gesture that causes Soobin’s heart to hammer. Yeonjun stiffens, swallowing his bite, lips forming that natural pout that Soobin has committed to memory.
Soobin smiles when a rosy pink hue makes an appearance in Yeonjun’s cheeks.
“Oh, by the way,” Yeonjun coughs out in a higher pitch, a bit flustered, “We’re throwing Taehyun a small farewell party.”
Right. Taehyun is going to Japan to start his summer internship soon.
“And, well, he doesn’t know about it,” Yeonjun smiles sheepishly, “so it will be a surprise.”
Soobin clutches his heart in mock hurt: “And you didn’t invite me?”
Yeonjun chuckles, then averts his gaze timidly, so unlike him.
“I thought you’d already be in,” he mutters under his breath.
Soobin heaves out a small laugh.
There’s only one answer.
“Yes.”
He’s in.
———
The entourage split up, all in their own designated positions to set the plan into action.
The frontman of the operation, Yeonjun, sends the rest of the members a text of “object of interest located, wait for the signal”.
Soobin snickers upon the text. He pulls on the tight collar of his dress shirt and smooths over the lapels of his suit. He’s a bit out of place in such formal attire, but Yeonjun insisted they show up in suits to, verbatim, appear more impactful.
But Soobin doesn’t question the purpose of a dress code. All he knows is that he is the driver in their mission, so when he receives the signal of a green light, he hops out of the car he borrowed from his uncle and heads to their meeting point.
The focus of the mission, however, drifts away the moment the front man slips into his view, waving in front of the entrance of the gym, gathering the group together. Yeonjun looks ravishing in a suit, effortless and cool, drips confidence, like a drama character that everyone falls in love with. He runs a hand through his raven locks, now wavy and brushed to the front and Soobin is gone, feeling like a hormonal teenager in front of his crush.
“You look so handsome,” he walks up to Soobin and announces like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t cause chaos in his stomach.
“T-thanks, you too,” Soobin stutters in return.
Now that they’re closer, Soobin’s smell is flooded by Yeonjun’s cotton perfume, it’s dangerously strong and invites him to lean in subconsciously to get a whiff, finding in him the urge to get drunk off of it.
Once the four boys have gathered, all dapper in their suits, they stand there in front of the gym, from which, according to Yeonjun, Taehyun must come out of any minute now. Soobin bites back a giggle at how unusual the scene must look like to any by-passer. Four men in suits all lined up by the gym entrance.
Surely enough, Taehyun is spotted walking out of the gym, duffle bag on his shoulder, hair damp and pushed back post-shower, a loose tank with wide arm cutouts revealing a great deal of muscle.
He’s caught off guard by the sight, naturally, then studies the boys and their attire.
“What is going on here?” Taehyun narrows his eyes in suspicion.
“Good day, Kang Taehyun-ssi,” Yeonjun greets solemnly, “we are your entourage, here to kindly kidnap you to fulfil a whole summer’s worth of bucket list in one day before you go away.”
Taehyun raises his eyebrows.
“If we’re kindly kidnapping, doesn’t that mean we’re kindnapping?” Kai muses, making Soobin break character and struggle out a giggle.
Yeonjun lifts up his hand at Kai and “This is no joking matter, Kamal.”
Kai fake-apologises, but continues smiling, not able to hold a serious expression.
“What’s in it for me?” Taehyun challenges with a smirk, fixing up the strap of his duffle bag, “And why are you dressed like that?”
“Well, it’s simple,” Yeonjun affirms, “if you successfully check everything off of the bucket list, you’re invited for drinks at my place. And we are dressed like this because we’re doing it fashionably. So you’re changing clothes too. Beomgyu, responsible for supplies, will provide you with your uniform. Beomgyu!”
Yeonjun snaps his fingers, but Beomgyu’s frozen.
“Beomgyu,” Yeonjun repeats, nudging him on the side and Beomgyu snaps out of it, clearly caught in the act of shamelessly checking Taehyun out, if his reddening cheeks are anything to go by.
“Here you go,” Beomgyu mumbles and hands him folded clothes.
After Taehyun has changed, Beomgyu reaches in his little pouch and pulls out a little folded note. He gives it to Taehyun.
“Go to a photo booth and pose doing aegyo with one person of your choice,” Taehyun reads.
He scrunches his nose, “Man, what the fuck is this!?”
“What? Did you think it was going to be non-embarrassing stuff?” Yeonjun gloats, grinning slyly. He receives an eye roll.
Somehow they manage to get Taehyun on board, Soobin likes to think it’s his and Yeonjun’s persuasion skills, but in reality Taehyun only agrees after Beomgyu pulls his lips in a pout.
And by the photo booth in a mall Soobin drove them to, Taehyun contemplates for a while which person to do the photo shoot with. He picks Kai in the end and doesn’t notice how Beomgyu deflates.
The next note that Beomgyu pulls out of his pouch and gives to Taehyun reads: “Apologise to the math teacher for always trying to outsmart her.”
“Guys, there is no way I’m doing this,” Taehyun whines, hiding his face in his hands.
“Off to school we go!” Yeonjun spins around on his heel, laughing.
And Soobin follows along with the rest of them, takes the bunch to the school they used to all go to and tunes them out arguing about the worst teacher the whole ride there. It’s Thursday afternoon and the classes have just ended, kids in uniforms swarm the front yard with a light spring in their step. Unfortunately for Taehyun, this means that the teachers are still inside.
“Do I really have to do this?” Taehyun asks, uselessly though, because he knows there’s no getting out of it.
“I can come with you,” Beomgyu offers in a small voice.
But Taehyun claims he wants to save him the embarrassment and softly slides his hand over Beomgyu’s before he’s gone, making his way to the front door of the school.
He returns some thirty minutes later, with ears red, eyes big, holding up a bag of some sweets.
“How was it?” Kai asks the first thing Taehyun gets in he back seat.
“She gave me candy,” Taehyun replies under his breath, tips of his ears red.
Chaos erupts over who gets to open up the pack of milk chewy candy Taehyun brought as they drive off to the next destination.
Just outside Yeonjun and Kai’s apartment building, Beomgyu offers Taehyun the next note. But this time, Beomgyu’s mood seems to have changed as he hides a mischievous glint behind his long brown bangs.
“Drive Yeonjun’s Vespa”
Taehyun’s mouth falls open in surprise, just as Yeonjun’s face twists in shock.
“Wait, wait, I didn’t agree to this!” Yeonjun exclaims, snatching the note from Taehyun’s grasp.
“Who said the supplier can’t contribute to the game,” Beomgyu asserts, victorious at his disobedience.
Yeonjun is about to object, but Taehyun already runs off to where Yeonjun’s scooter is parked and Beomgyu dashes after him, voice caught in fits of laughter.
Yeonjun blocks Taehyun’s way out, but the boy is adamant, already sat on the scooter with a helmet tightly secured.
“Tyun, are you sure you know how to operate it?” Yeonjun asks for the nth time, bracing his hands on the front of the vehicle, refusing to let go.
“I’m sure, hyung!” Taehyun grins, “Besides, I have to complete the list, right?”
Defeated, Yeonjun sighs and moves out of Taehyun’s way.
“Gyu!” Taehyun calls for the long-haired boy’s attention, then he taps on the seat behind him and it doesn’t even take a second for Beomgyu to accept the offer, he jumps on the back of the vehicle, snakes his arms around Taehyun’s abdomen and they go on their way. Romeo and Juliet driving off into the sunset.
The operation ends in one of the town’s busier parks, the few trees casting shadows on the beaten concrete path in the warm sunset light.
Taehyun, challenged to street busk, finishes singing a Zayn song and receives a round of claps from an old man.
“I think that’s it then,” Beomgyu announces, checking his pouch and not finding any more papers.
“Hold on, I have one more,” Yeonjun voices and now it’s time for a glint to kindle in his eyes.
He reaches in his pocket and takes out a small paper, hands it to Taehyun who unfolds it, puzzled.
Soobin observes how his eyes slide reading it, yet this time he doesn’t do it aloud.
In fact, he stays quiet and rereads multiple times, gripping the small paper so that it looks like it’s about to rip.
“So, what does it say, Taehyun?” Kai asks, faking obscurity. They are all in on this.
“Confess to your crush,” Taehyun whispers, eyes set on the note.
Yeonjun, Soobin and Kai all simultaneously turn their heads to Beomgyu, who stands there oblivious, evening breeze gently blowing the hairs off of his sculpted face.
Taehyun eyes Soobin in alarm, then slowly drags his eyes to Beomgyu who is already looking up at him, face reading confusion.
There is an excruciatingly long moment of silence and Soobin thinks they’re about to witness another scene like that time when they set up a fort and he cannot let it happen.
“Taehyun is in love with you!” Soobin exclaims and his abruptness startles them all, including Soobin.
“W-what?” Beomgyu chokes out, “I-is that true?”
Taehyun sighs. A dusting of pink appears in his cheeks. It’s so subtle, polarising from Taehyun’s usual demeanour and stately posture with well maintained muscles. That softness only pokes out when he’s around the other boy. He’s like a different person, timid like this.
He pushes his hands behind his back and connects them in an attempt to stop the fidgeting that has seemingly taken over his body.
“Yes,” he admits, finally, voice gaining assertiveness slowly, “I’ve known this forever, Gyu. I never knew how to tell you or how to show you. But it’s the truth I’ve been living with, denying it, burying it, then finally accepting it. You never were a meaningless hookup to me. I-I have feelings for you, Gyu.”
Taehyun fails to meet Beomgyu’s eyes, completely missing the smile that spreads across his face, the fondest Soobin has seen on Beomgyu ever. It’s practically blinding.
“Oh my God, finally,” Beomgyu rushes out and grabs the lapels of Taehyun’s suit, tugs him and crashes their lips together.
And as they kiss, deprived of each other, Soobin feels so accomplished that he wants to cheer, turns to Yeonjun and Kai who seem just as pleased.
The lovebirds are forced to pull away, lightheaded and lovesick, as the older man gifts them claps, clearly mistaking the scene for something way more formal due to their attire.
“Oh no sir, they’re not getting married or anything!” Yeonjun says in between laughs.
Yeonjun clutches his stomach, can’t suppress his giggles because of the misunderstanding.
“Imagine how many forts and bucket lists it will take us to get them married,” Soobin leans in to whisper to Yeonjun.
“Oh my, do I even wanna know?” Yeonjun returns, smiling brightly, teeth and gums showing, eyes as crescents and everything inside Soobin feels warm and safe.
Back in Yeonjun’s apartment, they return to a full display of favourite snacks and drinks.
Their voices grow louder with a few empty beer bottles laying on the coffee table, warmth rises in their cheeks as discussions turn more passionate, muscles relax and air stuffs up with the warmth their bodies effuse.
Soobin sinks into the loveseat and falls silent, opting for examining the rest of the boys and the articulation that has grown in vastness. Yeonjun sits on the armrest opposite of him, long legs stretched out, few buttons of his dress shirt now sitting undone, giving Soobin an opportunity for an innocent glimpse of the sharp collarbone peeking through and the defined Adam’s Apple bobbing as he laughs lowly at a half-assed joke Kai managed to throw into the conversation.
Soobin’s overworked mind alleviates under the affection that goes around the room, that drips from how close they are sitting, how close they have gotten, all five of them, over the course of a couple of months. Soobin didn’t expect to find content right in the midst of this specific company, but he does and somehow it clicks together, with the easy chats among Yeonjun, Kai, Taehyun and Beomgyu is the Soobin that he likes the most, the Soobin that feels the most right, it’s the Choi Soobin that is the most authentic, most himself.
Soobin fixes his eyes on the couple, sitting as close to each other they can get in the patterned cushions of the sofa, locks his gaze with Taehyun momentarily and they send each other a quick face of approval that speaks more words than any exchange of sentences could ever muster. Then Taehyun sneaks an arm around Beomgyu, muscles flexing under the white cotton shirt and Beomgyu’s lips pull upwards as he minimises in size, gluing himself to Taehyun’s body. And Soobin can only observe how the two puzzle pieces finally fit into one, the picture finally coming together. It’s a miracle to see the new relationship bloom in front of his eyes, soon enough this will turn into a long-distance relationship, but Soobin believes that this one will last.
Somehow they end up playing truth or dare, but after a few rounds of them choosing only “truth”, Beomgyu heaves a frustrated sigh and announces that they are playing dare or dare from now on. Soobin watches how Yeonjun, stripped of any other choice, pours out a quick free-style rap upon Kai’s request, which is followed by rounds of cheers from the others, all surprised by Yeonjun’s undiscovered rap skills. Yeonjun only clasps a hand over his mouth, laughing, the tips of his ears hinting at embarrassment, but the next moment it’s gone and he removes the hand and beams fondly, accepting the praise.
Then it’s Kai’s turn to feel embarrassed as he’s dared to hand over his phone to Taehyun, who makes quick work of skimming through Kai’s photo gallery, landing on a selfie of Kai with brows raised suggestively, biting his lip. He cackles and shows the selfie to the others and a very red Kai. But Kai seeks revenge the next round, daring Taehyun to do aegyo and then he laughs a victorious, high-pitched laugh at Taehyun’s attempt, the second one that day, earning him to be wrestled to the ground the next moment.
When it’s Soobin’s turn, Beomgyu is the one to decide his fate.
“I dare you to,” Beomgyu begins, smirking and snuggling to Taehyun’s side, “call you ex-boyfriend.”
Soobin tenses. His heart rate spikes uncomfortably.
“Beomgyu, I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Soobin mutters.
“Come on, hyung, what’s the worst that could happen?”
“Beomgyu-”
“Come ooon, hyuuuung.”
“Beomgyu, drop it,” Yeonjun’s stern voice suddenly calls out, “Don’t push him, if he doesn’t want to.”
Beomgyu does as told and chooses not to press further, sinking further in his seat. Soobin shoots Yeonjun a quick glance of gratitude.
Then Beomgyu comes up with something else.
“Alright, I dare you to,” he looks around the room, then fixes his eyes on Yeonjun’s bedroom door just in time as another sly smirk enters his lips, “read something off of Yeonjun’s journal.”
Soobin’s eyes grow wide.
That feels like crossing another boundary. And Soobin is about to tell him off once again.
But not before he turns his head to scan Yeonjun and this time there are no objections coming from his direction.
Soobin interrogates Yeonjun wordlessly, asks him if that’s okay.
Yeonjun shrugs his shoulders.
“I have nothing to hide.”
Still in disbelief from this permission, Soobin lifts himself up from the comfort of the cushions and heads to Yeonjun’s room, feeling like he is walking on a tightrope of some moral code, but he was dared and Yeonjun consented so what is there to overstep?
Yeonjun’s room is dark. Soobin reaches to turn the light on, and makes his way to the antique shelf where the years of Yeonjun’s journaling are placed orderly on the top shelf.
Soobin runs his fingertips along the row of creased journal spines. Then, he lets them stop at a specific one, the same one his eyes lingered on that day he got his first look around Yeonjun’s bedroom. He rubs his index across the marked date of some five years ago, it’s that same one that evoked mystery that day, the last one before a major hiatus in the following dates of the journals. Soobin senses that curiosity itching underneath the tips of his fingers and he grasps the book before he can change his mind and slips it into the palm of his hand, returning to the festivities in the living room.
As soon as he enters with the notebook in his grasp, Yeonjun’s eyes are dead set on Soobin’s every move. He’s almost like a cat, peering through thick lashes, a gaze so intent Soobin feels like his body is on fire. In response, Soobin eyes Yeonjun just as carefully, asking permission again and when nothing seems to waver in the way Yeonjun is staring, he turns his attention to the journal in his hands.
It’s a neat little book in white covers, yet the pages inside have started to yellow.
Feeling all scrutinising eyes on him, Soobin lets the journal fall open on a random page, one that seems thicker and more wrinkled up than the rest.
And when he scans the page, his fingers stop moving.
The top of the page is taken up by three words, a neat cursive written in ink.
Seoul with Soobinie
His heart could stop beating.
Because then he scans the rest of the page.
A collage of magazine cutouts decorates the sheet. A vision board. There is a picture N Seoul Tower carefully scissored along the line, the rectangular shape of Seoul Sasada Fashion School logo, a sign that reads “Gangnam Station” and a photo cut out from a soju advertisement with the shot glasses raised over a meal of BBQ. All outlined with different coloured pens.
Creases formed on the paper stretch over the images, where glue has dried up the cutout edges are sticking out.
Five years.
Five years the pictures have been wrinkling up on the page. Five years the glue has been drying.
Five years of testimony of their plan, glued to these pages, withstanding the test of time. Five years of their promise that never became reality.
Five years and it still stings.
“So, what does it say?” Beomgyu asks impatiently.
Soobin peels his eyes away from the journal and is met with inquisitive expressions.
Only Yeonjun is leaning back in his armchair, eyes surrendering.
Soobin gapes at his friends. Then back at the page.
His finger skims across one of the edges that has peeled off.
“It’s- it’s just his calorie intake,” he lies.
Beomgyu sighs when Soobin doesn’t read anything further and decides to just move along with the game.
But Soobin's mind is dazed with memories and he notices how Yeonjun doesn’t return his attention back to the game either, instead his eyes never leave Soobin.
Right next to the page that bears the collage, there is a paper sheet.
A folded A4 sheet that must have been slipped into the journal.
Soobin’s ears are as if plugged, inattentive to the game, he senses his fingers stretching to uncover the sheet’s contents.
He knows he shouldn’t be nosy, knows that Yeonjun hasn’t averted his gaze from Soobin, feels as if there’s just the two of them in the room when he finally takes the paper out of the opening and unfolds it to reveal its information.
He reads.
Dear Mr. Choi Yeonjun,
We are delighted to announce that you have been accepted into Fashion Design program in Seoul Sasada Fashion School starting this upcoming spring semester.
Enclosed are the details regarding your offer of admission.
We are looking forward to welcoming you in the institution of accomplished creatives.
Sincerely,
Jeung Man-Shik
Director of Admissions
Soobin’s heart jumps up in his throat. He feels his pulse violently wallop against his temple and it’s like he lives through four seasons all at once, burning up and freezing, gaping at that page that he never got see, never got to hear about.
And like that shortest day of winter brings dauntingly long hours of darkness without any remorse, Soobin realises.
Yeonjun lied.
Soobin forces the journal closed.
“I- I think I need s-some fresh air,” Soobin weakly announces, eyes on the ground.
In barely even a motion, he gestures towards the general direction of the balcony and retreats dazedly with thoughts all tangled up.
Said balcony is a narrow space attached to Yeonjun’s room with steel grating floor, the holes underneath Soobin’s soles revealing the horrifying five story drop to the concrete path all the way below, if steel and metal would be just as unstable as everything else in life that Soobin has come to know.
The metal bars that he grips unto are cool under his warm skin. He takes time to inhale and exhale, muttering an affirmation under his breath, sending each soothing word to his heart to calm down.
Down below under the yellow lights that street lamps are casting all throughout the dark night, he sees a couple walking unhurriedly, arms interlinked. He sees a man walking his dog. Sees a girl sliding headphones off of her ears to locate the ambulance car somewhere out there with its sirens blaring.
Soobin shuts his eyes, wishing that he could become anyone else in this moment, just any other person, in any other life, in any other home. Even if it’s just for a second. Even if it’s just a flicker of a moment of not being Soobin.
But alas, when his eyes fall open his feet are still planted on that balcony, his hands are still gripping the metal bar and he still senses a whirlwind picking up, determined to pull Soobin into a forceful maelstrom.
And even then his solitude is cut short.
“Soobin-ah,” comes a voice from behind him.
Soobin knows it’s Yeonjun. And when the next moment the older boy steps out on the balcony next to him, they’re cooped up in that tight space and Soobin wishes he could step away, put some distance between them, but more so he wants to hide away from actually wishing the opposite.
He turns to face Yeonjun.
Wind dances through the front strands of Yeonjun’s black hair and his eyes are beseeching, clinging onto Soobin’s every feature.
“You got accepted into Sasada,” Soobin whispers.
“I did.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t.”
For a while nothing is said. The truth suffocates the light summer night air.
“Did- Did you reapply? Did you try again?” Soobin furrows his brows looking for some kind of explanation.
“No I-,” Yeonjun breathes out and scratches his nape, “I got in the first time.”
Soobin refuses to accept. He straightens his posture.
“But you didn’t- you didn’t say-”
“I’m sorry.”
But Soobin is the fool.
He’s the fool who had to apologise to the broker that day for wasting his time. He was the fool who was humiliated, left to figure out how to afford apartment rent on his own. He was the fool who didn’t receive any answers. The fool who lost his best friend, clueless, oblivious as to how or when.
“You’re sorry? Hyung, what- what happened? Why did you lie saying you didn’t get accepted?”
“I just- I declined the offer, I figured you should go ahead without me,” Yeonjun murmurs.
“You figured??” Soobin heaves out a frustrated sigh, “Hyung, we had a plan, we made a promise!”
The last part comes out louder, making Yeonjun flinch.
But then Yeonjun breathes in and his eyes are set.
“Why exactly are you mad? Because our plan didn’t work out??”
“You made me feel humiliated.”
“I’m sorry I made you feel humiliated because your plan failed. But I had just come to own a business, I had just lost my parents! That wasn’t the plan either!! Me having to manage a café I didn’t want wasn’t the plan! My parents dying wasn’t the plan!” Yeonjun yells out in a quivering voice.
Soobin lets these words bounce around the walls of his heart, everywhere where they land they leave an unbearably strong sting of pain in their wake. His own vision blurring, he watches how Yeonjun steadies himself through heavy pants, a person he never wants to see hurting, paled and with features twisted like he is enduring something that no one should ever endure.
“Hyung I- I never expected this.”
“Never expected what?”
Soobin lets his eyes fall to the grating of the balcony, a single tiny base that holds them up from a five story drop. But Soobin already feels like plummeting downwards.
“Never expected what?” Yeonjun repeats in an unyielding tone, “Never expected me to not come to Seoul with you after I was left scrambling for my own life?!”
“No! I- I”
“What then?” Yeonjun flails his arms in the air.
“I never expected you to not tell me,” Soobin struggles out, disheartenment building up in his system, pumping in his veins consistently, “I don’t fucking care about schools or programs or apartments! It’s the fact that you didn’t tell me the truth. You didn’t tell me about your parents. I would’ve given you time, I would’ve given you space or I would’ve given you whatever you needed. But you never told me. Instead I was the bad friend that didn’t know shit about what was going on, that didn’t even have the chance to know. And it would’ve been okay- My god, I wouldn’t have pressured you to tell me or talk about it I- I just- I come here and everyone else knows, everyone was there for you, helped you- continue to help you. But why didn’t you let me be there for you?! Why did you push me away, if I knew, hyung, God, if- if only I knew I would have come back in a heartbeat. I never thought that I would have to be here, like the rest of them, for you to stay open to me. I never thought that the distance would actually get in the way of us. I thought we were stronger than the distance, I thought- I thought we were more than that. I-I thought you wouldn’t do such a thing to me.”
Yeonjun’s cheeks are damp. The boy is within arm’s reach.
Soobin’s entire world an arm’s length away.
“Soobin-ah,” Yeonjun begins quietly, drying off his tears with a sleeve, “I don’t think I can give you those answers.”
“Why not? Hyung I am- was your best friend!”
“That-” Yeonjun sighs, a long, difficult exhale, “I can’t- Soobin-ah, I can’t.”
“Can’t what?” Soobin’s question catches on a sniffle, scared to receive an answer.
“I can’t be friends anymore, I can’t do that,” Yeonjun’s voice trails off, succumbs to emotion.
And Soobin feels like he steps out of his body, watches the gruesome scene of a part of his body being ripped out. Maybe a limb, maybe an organ. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that on that tiny balcony five floors up Soobin is not whole anymore.
He bleeds out in front of Yeonjun. In front of the ghost of Yeonjun.
Then he gathers his weakening body for the last act of self defence, to spit out the last words he doesn’t mean.
“Then I don’t want to be friends with you.”
———
Yeonjun doesn’t turn on the light.
In the darkness you see less. Feel less.
Yeonjun doesn’t want to turn on the light.
He can only tell himself to exist if it is in the dark living room of his house.
He doesn’t want to see anything. He doesn’t want to feel anything.
As his eyes adjust to the darkness he scuffs to the round dining table. A takeaway box of some cold fried rice with a sticky note on top.
“Eat up Yeonjunie”
Auntie.
She’s trying to get Yeonjun to eat. She’s checking up on her nephew if he is still a human being.
Everyone’s trying.
Yeonjun swallows the nausea at the mere thought of food.
Next to the box is an envelope. A white envelope with a stamp Yeonjun has never seen. He reads his name on it. It is addressed to him. Auntie must have taken it from the mailbox. She is frantic, makes extensive to-do lists, refuses to rest before every single thing is checked off of it. She makes herself busy with legal documents and consulting the attorney and writing an obituary. Yet every time she sees Yeonjun she breaks and the sleepless nights become visible through the deep colour under her eyes.
Everyone grieves in their own way.
“He’s just a boy,” auntie would whisper to her husband, she would wail, clutching her husband to herself, stain his dress shirt with mascara. And Yeonjun would watch his aunt empty herself on her husband’s shoulder. Then she would go back to making funeral arrangements.
Is he just a boy?
Is he even a person?
A week before he was a son. Now he’s not anymore.
If today he is a person, maybe tomorrow he can be a clump of cells. A group of molecules. Without name, without purpose, without being compelled to continue.
That is the only tomorrow that Yeonjun wants to wake up in.
Yeonjun plops down on the couch in the living room, lifts up the envelope so the light of street lamp outside falls on the paper just enough for Yeonjun to make out the words on it.
Sasada.
Fashion School.
The highly anticipated green light finally arrived.
And maybe something in Yeonjun moves. Maybe his heart gives out a single beat before going motionless again.
It’s a little trick. A little spectacle. Like that brief moment after he wakes up and for the first few seconds he doesn’t remember, almost springs up from bed and expects to see his mom and dad; them having morning coffee, them greeting him.
But then he remembers. He always remembers.
And emptiness becomes ten times more empty.
Emptiness becomes him.
Yeonjun opens the envelope, reads the contents of the letter inside.
That person pops in his head like he has already found his home there.
Soobin.
He fishes out the phone from his pocket that he has been neglecting the whole day.
Yeonjun squints at the harsh light of his phone screen in the dark. It notifies him that he has missed 11 calls and 13 messages from Soobin.
Soobin.
Shining boy.
His body longs for him. Longs so much that for a moment it is the only comprehensible emotion he can decipher.
But it’s a trick. There’s a loop. Little glimpses of a life worth living. But then Yeonjun remembers. He always remembers.
He is in his dark living room.
He is an orphan.
And there is no light left in him.
But Soobin-
Soobin is out there. Soobin has started living a life worth living. Soobin will graduate with excellent grades. Soobin will get hired by someone who recognises that he would always give his everything no matter if you deserve it or not. Soobin will become someone’s epitome of admiration. Soobin will fall in love with someone worth receiving his love.
He just started. Just took the first steps. The first steps of many.
And that’s when Yeonjun swears to himself that he will never take away Soobin’s light. He swears that Yeonjun’s darkness will never extinguish Soobin’s light.
Soobin has to live.
Nothing must pull Soobin out of Seoul, from the horizons basked in gold, from his promising beginnings and fields of opportunities, finally ripe for plucking.
Nothing, not even Yeonjun.
And Yeonjun will do anything to make sure he never finds Soobin in his dark room, in his lifeless carton box, along with him and his useless hands that drown both of them in misery.
So when his screen lights up with Soobin’s caller ID, he presses his phone to his ear and listens to Soobin’s breathing, memorising each breath. He feels the urge knocking on his door again to throw up hollow screams that rip his throat, once too many tears have fallen and not an ounce of pain has subsided.
“I didn’t get accepted,” he whispers into the phone.
“What- What do you mean you didn’t get accepted?” Soobin’s voice cracks on the other end.
“I mean- I guess my application wasn’t competent enough.”
“Well are you gonna try again? Should I help you look for other schools? You can come and do that from here, I just found us-”
“Soobin-ah.”
“Huh?”
“I won’t be coming to Seoul.”
“What are you saying, hyung? You can’t give up so easily. Together we can-”
“Soobinie, I am giving up.”
He hears Soobin’s breaths shortening. Hears his words pour out more panicked. Hears the damage he’s causing to the boy he loves.
He wants to scream.
But he repeats to himself over and over again. Over Soobin’s flurry of words.
He’s letting him go.
He’s letting him go.
He’s letting him live.
When the phone call ends he lifts up his heavy body and stumbles on a stool in the living room. In the darkness it is hard to see.
But Yeonjun doesn’t want to see.
If there’s less to see, maybe it’s easier to get lost into the darkness.
And maybe it’s easier to never be found again.
So Yeonjun doesn’t turn on the light.
And it will be a long time until he does.
———
Everywhere in Soobin’s body hurts.
When he was a child his mother took him to a taekwondo tryout. The whole ride back he made his mother’s patience run thin, whining and complaining how sore he was. But nothing prepared him for the next day. He woke up, shuffled under the sheets, quickly realising that every muscle in his body hurt. In places he never knew it could hurt.
Then his mom would come into his room, answer all of Soobin’s questions, as he forces his stiff limbs out of the bed. She would tell him that there are small injuries in the muscle fibre caused by an intense workout. But most importantly she would say that the pain would lessen. She would tell Soobin to stay patient and wait for the soreness to wear down. She would run him a hot bath and tell him that would help relieve some of the pain.
And Soobin blindly wishes that this time when his mom enters his bedroom cautiously, she is here to do the same. She is here to tell Soobin that it will stop, that the pain would go away, that it’s just a common reaction. That she is here to offer him a remedy.
In her hand is a bowl with cut up fruit, an attempt to make up for Soobin’s absence at dinner last night, or lunch or breakfast.
Soobin can’t force himself to eat. His stomach is filled with guilt and it continues to eat him up leaving him immune to any kind of hunger. His whole body refuses to cooperate, limbs stubbornly heavy and weighing him down into the safety of his mattress, which he hasn’t pulled himself out of in the past 24 hours.
But on top of it all, it hurts.
It’s impossible to locate the pain.
Is it his stomach? His gut? His chest? His heart?
There is no way to tell and there is no way to stop it from flaring up in his insides.
His mother crouches down on the floor, the palm of her hand hovers over the crown of Soobin’s head until it lands in his messy dirty hair, it’s a gentle caress, one that Soobin hasn’t received from his mother since he was a small boy.
Missing the energy to even lift his head up from the pillow, he continues laying there still, welcomes every touch planted by his mother’s hand and lets them take him back years ago. Until he is a child again, nurtured by his mother, a little human in its most crucial years, learning everything that there is to life - from the most beautiful miracles to its devastating horrors.
Soobin finally rises to sit up on the mattress and allows his mom to get a good look at him. Her face turns in sorrow and Soobin thinks he must look miserable, because then her hand is on his cheek and she tilts her head to the side, schooling Soobin’s tired eyes and tsking.
“Mom, it hurts,” Soobin juts out his lower lip.
“My boy, who hurt you?”
These words are enough to push the tears out of the corners of Soobin’s eyes. He lurches forward to hide in his mother’s arms and she responds by wrapping her arms around him.
He sobs quietly, the arms around him poised to steady his hiccups.
Those same arms that held him as an infant, mend him back to health.
But Yeonjun is deprived of this.
But Yeonjun can’t be mended like this.
But Yeonjun can’t have this.
“I-I h-hurt him,” Soobin cries.
His mom doesn’t respond.
“I-I keep h-hurting him without meaning t-to.”
She lets her son cry, chooses not to speak, not to lecture, not to encourage. Offers her comfort silently.
Until Soobin’s phone starts to buzz.
“Soobin-ah, your phone is ringing,” she says after Soobin makes no move to pull away from the hug.
“I don’t want to talk to anyone,” he shakes his head into his mother’s shoulder.
Then she slowly pulls Soobin off of her and pulls his phone from where it is continuously ringing under the comforter somewhere and offers it to Soobin, eyebrows raised.
Soobin knows not to argue with his mother, hence he accepts the call in defeat, not bothering to check who’s trying to reach him.
“Hello, am I speaking to Choi Soobin?”
“Yeah umm, this is he,” Soobin frowns at the unfamiliar man’s voice on the call.
“We’re calling on the behalf of Rimedi, a wellness product and service company. You sent us your resume over a month ago, is that correct?”
He didn’t.
He’s about to say there’s been a mistake, but then he remembers.
Sunghoon.
“Uh, y-yes?”
The only answer he could think of.
“Initially we didn’t reach out to you, it’s been over a month since we received your resume, however, if you are still interested, another, more suitable vacancy has opened up. Social media manager and promotions’ team leader. Work is full time. We must say we were very impressed with your resume and are willing to offer this position right away.”
Soobin draws out an exhale, dizzy from holding his breath this long. His head is spinning.
“I- t-thank you, I may have to call you back,” Soobin mutters before ending that call and letting the hand with phone drop back on the mattress, startled and processing the sudden opening.
Opening.
His mom’s eyes are wide. Then she starts smiling. Clearly, she heard the conversation from how close she’s sitting.
“Soobin-ah, that’s great,” she claps her hands, beaming, “I didn’t know you were searching for a job!”
Soobin winces.
“I- Well- Yeah.”
“Well, why didn’t you show more interest? That sounds like a serious position!”
“I d-don’t know, I don’t really want to.”
“How so? You applied and they got back to you,” she puzzles.
Well.
Too late to tell the truth now.
“Soobin, it’s time to get back out there,” she searches for Soobin’s eyes that stay downcast, “You can’t stay here, I can’t look at you miserable like this.”
Soobin purses his lips.
“You only stay here because of him,” she continues, causing Soobin to stiffen, “You have a good heart, son. I know you put others before yourself. You know what kind of person stays behind the pack and makes sure everyone else’s needs are met?”
Soobin shakes his head.
“A true leader.”
Soobin sniffles. He lets these words sink in, wishing them to ring true. But all the pain he saw in Yeonjun’s eyes that night tells him otherwise.
“You are meant to lead people, to help them, to encourage them. You will be great manager, an employee that cares for the team. So, give yourself a chance to be one.”
Soobin fails to think of what to say.
“At least think about it,” is the last thing his mother says before she gets up and makes her way out of the bedroom, leaving Soobin in a pool of thoughts.
———
The beginning of the end starts with three resonant knocks on his door with no intervals.
Yeonjun yells to Kai that he’ll get it and carries himself to the door with heavy legs. With heavy arms and heavy chest, like lead with its unerring weight.
Tedious steps echo in the hallway.
Yet when Yeonjun reaches out to open the door, his heart still flutters.
Soobin.
Eyes casted to his feet, black strands falling over his eyes, one side of a white collar sticking out of a navy blue sweater, thumb and index finger continuously swirling the thick band of a silver ring on his other finger.
A larger-than-life imagery of Soobin, the catalyst of wildfire in his chest. Radiating everything Yeonjun has ever considered to be home.
Because even so there’s hurt swarming Yeonjun’s heart, Soobin smells like home, like apple pie and your favourite blanket, he pouts before looking into your eyes, like that person that you first think of whenever you want to cry, after feeling like the smallest person on the planet, you’re in his pocket, he’s like your favourite pajamas, carefully washed soft cotton, he’s a picnic date by the river on a day blessed by warm breezes and golden afternoon light, he’s a lighthouse painted in red and white against the harsh cold blues of the chilling sea.
Because even if Yeonjun is empty, Soobin shines like a silver lining in the overcast hour of twilight.
Yeonjun’s fingers almost stretch out to touch him. Yeonjun’s lips almost form words his heart has always wanted to say.
He takes a deep breath, unable to look no more and wills himself not to break down.
“Hyung,” Soobin starts, “I know you probably don’t want to see me or talk to me.”
That’s not true.
“But I- I feel really awful.”
Soobin’s voice quivers. As if he enumerates each word, careful for it not to sound an octave higher.
“Hyung, I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have,” the volume of what’s said reduces, “I’m sorry.”
I’m sorry too.
Yeonjun stares at the white tiles beneath his feet, afraid that if he spares the smallest glance at Soobin, those tiles would crumble.
Yeonjun tightens his grip on the door handle and supports his other hand on the door frame, blocking Soobin’s way in. He’s scared. He’s cautious. He doesn’t know what Soobin came to say.
There’s a faint sniffle.
“Hyung, they offered me a job in Seoul. It- it’s a g-good job, and I want to- I want to take it,” Soobin speaks, voice giving out a high-pitched tremble.
Please don’t cry because of me.
“Hyung.”
If Yeonjun doesn’t look it’s not happening.
Like a toddler that puts a hand over his eyes thinks he’s hidden.
“Hyung.”
Eyes glued to the floor. Then he must not be here. Then this must not be really happening.
“Hyung, can you please look at me?”
Yeonjun shakes his head.
I can’t look at you.
“Please, hyung?”
I can’t lose you again.
“Look at me,” he begs and then there’s gentle fingers under Yeonjun’s chin, his head lifted upwards and he swallows down a gasp.
Yeonjun looks at him and it sets everything into motion.
There’s no more hiding.
Soobin’s eyes fill to the brim, they glisten under the cool white corridor light, the bags under his eyes puffed up, he holds Yeonjun’s chin as delicately as a feather and hopelessly searches his eyes with his own bloodshot ones.
“Please say something,” Soobin’s plea echoes in Yeonjun’s ears.
I love you more than I ever knew I could love a person.
So I will never hold you back.
I have to set you free.
Yeonjun says nothing. He pushes that painful knot down his throat.
If he speaks, he breaks.
“Tell me to stay and I will.”
Stay.
Stay.
Stay.
“Please, t-tell me.”
“I t-think y-you should take the job,” Yeonjun finally struggles out.
Then tears roll down Soobin’s cheeks.
He lets go of Yeonjun’s chin and hurries to wipe them away. And Yeonjun wishes he was the one to wipe them away. Wishes he could offer comfort. Wishes everything was different.
Instead Yeonjun’s eyes drop to the floor again, staring at his toes as if they loom over a ravine, his body fluctuating dangerously close to that steep chasm.
“Alright then,” Soobin rushes out, masking another sniffle, “G-goodbye.”
He turns on his heel as fast as his body allows and with quick steps his figure retires.
Only the scent of apple pie lingers in the hallway a little while longer.
Then the door shuts in front of Yeonjun but the sound doesn’t reach his ears. The thud he hears seconds after, delayed and distorted, but seconds after everything has started melting into nothingness, and Yeonjun falls backwards, not knowing when or where his shell of a body lands, only that it collapses and he falls into another dimension where there is no door and no walls, no physical matter that is within the reach of his fingertips.
He opens his mouth to scream out, attempting to raise a signal through his petrifying drop, but only a shuddering wail comes out.
Yeonjun is on the floor and there are arms around him and a panicked, trembling voice of Kai near his ear, whispering a spell of some sort to bring Yeonjun back, but Yeonjun is gone, quivering sobs erupting from the depths of his ribcage as the last echoing distress signal of a vessel yielding to the ocean’s overarching tide.
“I l-lost, I lost- I lost him, Kai,” Yeonjun gasps out as unstoppable tears stream over his cheeks.
Kai is still holding him, overly struck to let out words or even a sound, saving Yeonjun from his unbidden plunge, but the boy’s whole body is turning into liquid.
Yeonjun weeps, his body weeps forcefully, brokenly, weightlessly, a drift into a realm of no matter, no nothing just the echoes of the continuous sobs of despair.
“I am- I am l-losing m-my parents,” Yeonjun babbles, beaten voice trailing off, pants quickening into a concerning pace and Kai’s hands tighten around his torso somewhere, “M-mom, d-dad, the- the car”
“Shhh, Yeonjun, stay with me, stay with me, hyung, hyung,” Kai incites anxiously, kindling some kind of sense into the senseless state Yeonjun has been thrusted into.
Harrowing sobs waft through the impalpable space and the leverage of reality eventually slips out of Yeonjun’s iron grip.
“M-mom, d-dad, I- I will lose them a-again.”
“Yeonjun, you can’t lose them again, look at me, look at me, hyung, come back to me,” Kai begs, losing control of tone to panic.
Yeonjun tries to look at his friend, tries to feel the hold around his abdomen, tries to bring himself back, but he isn’t there, and with limbs caught in a tremor he finds himself in that dark room again, but this time it greets him in a way old friends do, the memory too real to let go of, he is there with all his five senses, relives each second that breaks bones in his body, he discovers about the car crash again, loses his parents again, mass ceases to exist again, life elapses again, a clump of molecules in a meaningless void again.
“I’m here, hyung,” it’s Kai’s voice.
It’s somewhere.
Somewhere along with Soobin walking away. Leaving him.
Somewhere where Yeonjun’s physical body is laying under the avalanche, where his heart is in a million pieces strewn all over the floor, where an unhappy ending is welcoming him.
And as his mind slowly returns, he hears Kai’s words more distinctly now and they repeat steadily through the storm that he’s alright, he’s alright, he’s alright.
Yeonjun is just a person.
Breakable. Fragile beyond belief.
Wishing for a happy ending.
Thrown into a vicious loop of always getting an unhappy one.
Bound to lose. Bound to lose Soobin every time.
But he’s alright, Kai’s voice persists.
He will be.
In time.
Chapter 16: come on, chew on my heart
Notes:
the final chapter
hope you enjoy it <3
Chapter Text
Autumn is not Soobin’s favourite season.
Autumn is written in minor key. Each melody that blossoms in the overwrought streets of the city discloses a sentiment, grieves the farewell of summer’s alacrity.
But on the trails among Dorimcheon, Seoul changes its persona. Along Dorimcheon, Seoul is released from its concrete jungle grip, it is a sanctuary of nature, autumn’s canvas, inviting the new season to paint its greens into the most saturated oranges and browns. This part of the city, tucked away from the bustle, is where autumn slows down to a decadent andante.
Sun hangs low in the sky of Thursday afternoon, plays hide in seek in the yellowing tree tops. Challenged to this game, Soobin tries to catch up with her. He soaks the radiating beams into his skin like a sponge, commits this warmth to memory, equips himself, refusing to lose against the dawning of a cold winter.
A steaming cup of salted maple latte is pushed into his hands. Another source of warmth to cling unto under the chilly wind, determined on sending a handful of brown leaves twirling to the ground. He pulls his lips in smile, thanks the giver of the perfectly sweet drink - a boy that’s flashing a smile of his own, so bright and mellow for the dropping temperature that it must be reciprocated. The boy buries his delicate nose in a thick layer of his emerald green scarf, blinks up once, twice at Soobin.
“Thank you for this hyung,” the boy motions at the cup in his hand, pale fingers wrapped around it.
“Don’t mention it, Hoonie,” Soobin shrugs, drops his gaze to Sunghoon’s foot carefully bandaged and tucked into a boot - the primary reason he’s in the far area of the city, overlooking the calorie amount in their overpriced autumnal drinks with someone that needs cheering up.
Sunghoon got a stress fracture. A common injury for skaters. A common way for an impatient, competitive boy, adamant to be back on ice as soon as humanly possible, to feel like ripping his hair out. But the coach insisted on rest and Sunghoon had no other choice but to comply, fully aware that the coach is not a force to reckon with.
But sympathetic eyes and a treat of a hot drink is all Soobin can think of offering, in a battle of his own with seasonal melancholy choking him up and leaving all words drying up on his tongue.
No words proves to be the best form of therapy, as both of them walk in silence along the river, failing to find the reason to speak in some sort of shared gratification. With nothing said, it leaves room for therapeutic sounds of soles clinking against pavement and the persistent flow in the narrow body of water.
By the river, embraced by Seoul’s more sweet-tempered face, Soobin witnesses the wonder of a season changing, of a chapter closing and a new one opening, pages left behind, written off into past. Giving over to new, blank ones.
Circled by faces he sees for the first and last time, Soobin is one of ten million. The insignificance of being a grain in the sea of sand finds a hold of him. An unprovoked ritual where existentialism writhes under his skin and Soobin once again takes ownership of his body, makes time for inhaling and exhaling the feeling out.
And by the fourth exhale, he is himself again.
As a surprise, there is something harmonious about playing cat and mouse with life.
So, along Dorimcheon, autumn becomes Soobin’s favourite season.
“Are you mentally prepared for tomorrow?” Sunghoon offers a side smile, one that grows bigger as frustration creeps up in Soobin’s features.
“Oh no, why would you remind me of this? I was having a good day!”
“You’re going to be fine,” Sunghoon laughs airily.
“Yeah, only have to endure a whole night of second-hand embarrassment because boss can’t hold his liquor,” Soobin whines.
“What if you try to catch up with him?” Sunghoon wriggles his eyebrows.
“You kidding me? Are you trying to make me have an alcohol poisoning or something!?”
“Relax, drama queen,” Sunghoon nudges Soobin’s shoulder, “I'll have your back.”
—
Turns out by having Soobin’s back at the company dinner Sunghoon meant tucking himself away into the very corner of the table and glancing at phone screen under the table, albeit sneakily, darting his eyes up every once in a while to keep guard of any curious eyes.
It’s not like he expected to be miraculously saved, Hweshik is a practice Soobin is well used to, an essential part of any office job, yet something about leisure as duty makes it everything other than.
Soobin grumbles internally.
Internally, because he is seated right next to his boss, who readjusts his volume after every three shots of soju, face turning redder and tie loosening up around his wide neck.
He leans over the table to yell something over the sizzling of the grill and the noise from the restaurant’s busiest hour. When he notices Soobin’s empty glass sitting neglected, he snaps his fingers at his secretary, who clumsily hastens to pour him the contents of a Jinro soju bottle, the liquid sloshing around in the green glass.
Soobin brings the shot glass to his lips and, covering his mouth with his other hand, downs the drink in a single mouthful, then knocks the empty glass back on the table, the loud sound pangs in his ears.
In the corner of the long table, Sunghoon seems to only partly engage in the discussion, dodges boss’s stare by shrinking behind the colleagues.
Easy to be an intern.
An intern is not expected to discuss work matters with your mildly drunk employer.
An intern remains sheepish in the shadow of his colleagues, eyes glued to phone screen, a little smirk playing at his lips, body language clear as day. He is texting someone.
Feeling a little odd Soobin tries to tune out the rest of the scene so that the only thing on his radar is his boss’s intoxicated babbling, in which he catches mentions of his own name.
“Soobin-ssi is a truly great addition to our company,” the boss rasps to no one in particular, supplementary pats on Soobin’s shoulder certify his statement.
“Thank you, sir,” Soobin returns but grows shy.
Soobin sends the secretary a look whose expression twists in some form of apology, as if she carries the responsibility of their boss endorsing embarrassment.
Sure, his boss has the tendency to splash out on company dinners and sure, he has a hard time drawing the line with alcohol consumption, however, Soobin still holds immense respect for the man and his unwavering confidence in his craft.
That is exactly what sparks uneasiness at the thought their private conversation scheduled for tomorrow.
Soobin’s eyes travel back to Sunghoon.
Eventually, his laser-stare reaches Sunghoon and the boy peels his eyes away from his distraction to hand Soobin an innocent shrug of shoulders and an expression of a What!?
So Soobin rolls his eyes without any ill intention behind it and returns his attention to his plate, determined to enjoy himself more.
Though he’s elated at secretary’s announcement to call it a night and greets his cue to let cold air take care of his heavy body just outside the restaurant. It awakens a strange sense of peacefulness, even despite the sight of his boss being tugged in a taxi and driven away right in front of his eyes.
The streets breathe with renewed life. The city never quite meets real darkness even in the season custom to dark. The street signs glow throughout the night and Soobin winds up reading each of them as a sign to himself, a personal, direct signal. A token of the leap of faith already on the tip of his tongue.
—
“I would be lying if I said I’m pleased Soobin-ssi.”
“I am really sorry if this causes any convenience, sir.”
“No, no,” his boss holds up a hand, the fog in his stare from previous night all gone, “Don’t feel so entitled.”
Soobin bites the inside of his cheek.
“Young people like you…” he continues, posture straightening in his desk chair, elbows planted on the dark wood surface of his office desk, “they fear settling down.”
Soobin forces down a counterargument.
He hasn’t come here to debate.
He has come here to resign.
“So jumping from one job to another, that is easy. What is hard is truly committing yourself to a single thing.”
The monologue comes to an end and the self-assurance that Soobin armoured himself with deflates like a balloon under a needle. His employer’s reaction to Soobin handing in his 2 week notice is not entirely what Soobin expected. He’s sort of put on the spot, but, much to his surprise, not as a shameful employee. Rather as if he’s a helpless human, negligent to his life coach’s carefully laid out plan.
But Soobin hasn’t come here to back down.
And there is one last thing he’s itching to ask.
“What about-” Soobin clears his throat, buying himself time to word the sentence, “what about my recommendation?”
He gathers the courage to look his boss in the eye, reminding himself that he’s an adult and adults don’t dodge directness of language.
Despite whatever bitter feeling he found in his tone earlier, boss breaks into a small grin.
“Consider it done.”
Lunch break sparks delight around the colleagues.
Soobin sneaks off to the lunch room with the intention to fix himself a cup of coffee.
Yes, he may have avoided giving even an ounce of resolution to his colleagues endless quizzing about the curious meeting with the boss. Soobin doesn’t feel ripe for talking.
Soon enough, Sunghoon dips into his periphery and gives him the eye, noting the patience with which Soobin stirs his coffee.
“So?” Sunghoon asks, a grin that Soobin recognises sneaking onto his lips.
“It’s my last two weeks here.”
He feels a spark in his chest grow a flame again.
Sunghoon raises his brows and nods his head, letting the information sink in.
“You are actually going through with this.”
“I am.”
“Are you sure?”
It’s the same question Sunghoon asks two and a half weeks later in Soobin’s now empty apartment.
Being sure is an intuition based feeling.
And without the constant prodding of intuition, Soobin wouldn’t be standing here in the expected consequences of his decisions.
He glances over at Sunghoon, who seems to genuinely try to register Soobin’s reasoning.
It’s funny how Soobin never imagined having this conversation with his ex-boyfriend amid his efforts to offer a helping hand in packing his things. Sunghoon interning for the company Soobin works at was a mere coincidence, or so Soobin still thinks, given their quick recovery and the promise of truce. A little awkward at first, but they managed to accept working together, only later to find out that they are great sharing a job, both enriching each other’s views with different perspectives of the same concept.
They aren’t exactly friends. They aren’t non-friends.
They exist in that same, oftentimes menacing, concrete jungle of Seoul that requires a familiar face to maintain good mentality.
“I’m sure,” Soobin asserts.
“Damn, if I was that set on someone.”
“What are you talking about, I saw you texting at company dinner,” Soobin slips in a smirk, nudging Sunghoon, “Who is it, huh?”
Sunghoon blushes and the only thing that it does is turn Soobin’s smirk wider.
“No one!”
“Yeah, sure, like I believe you,” Soobin laughs, clearly amused at the flustered state of the other boy, “you were smiling at your phone the whole evening!”
“Aish, it’s weird talking about this with you!” Sunghoon covers his face with his hands.
Soobin keeps poking information out of Sunghoon until he cracks.
“Fine so the guy that I’m talking to…” Sunghoon sighs, surrendering, but there is a small smile on him that he fails to hide, “his name is Jake. But that’s all I’m telling you!!”
“Ohhh Jake!! Foreign name! You got yourself a foreigner!”
Soobin persists with the teasing and Sunghoon continues to grow red until Sunghoon grabs onto whatever topic change presents itself and gestures at Soobin’s bags, offering help carrying them downstairs.
A new feeling instils among the jitters in Soobin’s stomach.
Possibly it is weird.
Ex-boyfriend seeing him off to the bus, feet already itching to walk into the preface of a new story.
Possibly the feeling is weird.
Possibly there is a thrill among all of its oddness.
But those are the first feelings that feel real in months.
———
It’s just how he remembered it.
Memory box of his most favourite things in the heart of his hometown.
A scene from an old childhood movie, standing there outside of Bean Fairy, a distinct, irreversible moment flaunting before his eyes.
He enters the café. Memory box that carries his sentiment reverently; a small boy, an obstinate teenager, a truth-seeking young adult meeting in the middle and he greets all parts of him, the past and the present and the future he has come to look for.
Blanketed by the plant garlands raining from the sky, Soobin is captured by the riveting mystery, once again, like the very first time. He hears hushed chatter in the teepee tents, most occupied by flushed teenagers, dialogues in whispers, as if they are muttering magic spells, tucked cosy in the campsite. And the reflection of the neon light, a deep amethyst purple, tangoes on the shiny counter top.
It’s alive. Stormed with people. A breathing forest of beautiful beings, welcoming to find shelter in its renewed glory.
Soobin finds himself in every corner, in every flicker of neon, in every teeming tent, in every blushing teenager, in every note of the soul song pouring out of speakers.
Until he catches sight of him.
Choi Yeonjun.
The centre of this lure.
Taking an order behind the counter, beams on his face, a smile, stretched to the crescents of his chocolate brown eyes, veiled by smooth raven strands. A clean, dark green apron hugs his figure, his beautiful body, posture gallant and decorated by a sincere grin as he leans over the counter to hear an older lady’s order better.
Yeonjun.
In the middle of his cherished memory box. It is just like searching the whole world for that softest wool scarf you never grew out of as a child, only then to find it sitting under your bed, collecting dust in a box of things you never thought to stop valuing. It is like bringing that scarf to your nose and discovering it never lost its scent, it never stopped being right under your bed, a favourite of favourites you grew to believe you lost within reach after all the years of restless search.
Yeonjun.
The destination of tireless journey ending right where it started.
Soobin’s feet anchor themselves on that very ground of his hometown where love first started. The only love proved to be a consistent, infinite force.
When he carries himself to the counter, Yeonjun lays his eyes on him. Everything in Soobin twists as he drinks in every bit of emotion threatening to crack through Yeonjun’s facade. But the fox-like eyes hold incessant sparks as the rest of the features emit flickers of the entire Plutchik’s Wheel of Emotions.
“Soob- what- what are you-” Yeonjun’s smile drops when it’s Soobin’s turn at the counter. His eyes shoot across Soobin’s face.
“I would like a cappuccino, please,” Soobin musters in the most assertive voice he could find.
There is a second or two where Yeonjun stays frozen. Soobin watches him like he’s watching a play, curious and careful yet so eager to trace his eyes over the person inhabiting his mind every breathing moment.
Then Yeonjun jolts himself back into the situation. He is about to flip around to prepare the order, but not before Soobin fishes a crumpled note out of his jean pocket and slides it across the marble counter to Yeonjun, begging his fingers not to tremble. The motion ties Yeonjun to his spot as he stares down at the tiny piece of paper laying on the counter.
Suddenly there’s commotion behind Yeonjun, a flick of a moment in which Soobin forgets to even breathe and out of the kitchen steps Kai, now with hair platinum blonde and falling in front of his eyes, lips resting in a lazy grin. Following Kai, Beomgyu stumbles out with cheeks flushed and stained white apron tied tightly around his muscled abdomen.
An out of the blue company that runs flutters through Soobin’s body, yet before Kai could even open his mouth and let out a squeal of excitement, Yeonjun snatches the note from the counter, clutches it tightly in his fist.
“Soobinie hyung!” both the boys shriek in unison and already moving to launch themselves at Soobin, they are stopped by Yeonjun’s arm.
“Guys, I told you to be quiet,” Yeonjun shushes, motioning at the customers who don’t seem to bat an eye at this ruckus.
And so they giggle and run away from the scolding back into the kitchen and Soobin can only wonder what they are up to.
His question is answered when Yeonjun looks up to meet his eyes again.
“Kamal is assisting Beommie in baking a cake for Taehyun’s return. Beomgyu wanted to surprise his boyfriend and it’s also supposed to be a secret that they’re using Fairy’s kitchen to prepare said surprise,” Yeonjun explains quietly.
Soobin missed hearing his voice. Missed it so much that the only way he thinks to respond is by nodding dumbly.
Nothing is said anymore and quickly the air stuffs up, the silence takes a painful grip on Soobin’s throat.
Everything that happened between them is still there, squeezing air out of his lungs in the deafening silence.
His attention is brought back to the note that Yeonjun unclenches in his hand and in a surge of nervousness Soobin is gone - crawls inside one of the teepee tents and awaits his doom at the sake of his of fingers whose bones he habitually cracks in anxiety.
He thinks back to the words he scribbled on the note, how he was thinking and rethinking multiple times before finally putting something down.
i didn’t actually come for a cappuccino
meet me in the teepee tent after closing time.
And so Soobin waits, blanketed by beige fabric, letting his cappuccino get cold, unable to even go as far as wet his lips with the beverage. His nerves are frizzling in the pit of his stomach, like he’s clutching onto the rail of roller coaster cart seconds away from a dive.
Soobin sits there and allows the sun to set without bidding goodbye, allows the lively chatter to die and get substituted by the continuous white noise of Soobin’s thoughts. Soobin sits there and picks up the pieces of himself. All of the particles he scattered around the Fairy, the debris of broken memory, pieces of a shipwreck that he keeps clutching to his heart and cherishing at night when hollow darkness presses down on him.
Nevertheless.
He’s here and there is a reason for it.
And the reason pops his head into the teepee tent, the side of his cheek immediately lit up in the gentle orange hue that the small lantern effuses.
He takes a seat opposite of Soobin, legs crossed as he sinks into the cushions. He has discarded of the apron now, leaving only a white dress shirt and boxy pants. Although every move feels calculated, there is that aura that he possesses - the effortlessness that is steadfast to his character. His eyes dart here and there, there is so much uncertainty that Soobin doesn’t know how to ease the chokehold this body language takes on him.
Yeonjun focuses his eyes on Soobin. And Soobin is a matchstick that lights up in a snap and begins to burn, flames feeding under the gaze of Yeonjun. It’s law of nature that Soobin could never oppose.
“Visiting?” Yeonjun mumbles the question out as if it’s a bitter spill to swallow.
“Actually not r-really umm-”
“Soobinie, why are you here?”
And what a question it is.
Yeonjun blurts it out without a second thought. But Soobin spent every thought of the last four months in Seoul seeking for the why. The quest for a reason to be here where he is sitting, in Yeonjun’s Fairy that they both nursed back to life. The quest landed him in a library of reasons but none reaching far enough to wave the white flag at the doorstep of the boy whose heart he probably hurt.
His fingers reach inside of the crossbody bag sitting next to him.
That’s the only why he brought. The presentable, rational, thought-out why.
He takes out a binder sheet and hands it to Yeonjun. Deems it enough of an answer to Yeonjun’s lingering question.
Yeonjun eyes it curiously, his lips pursed.
“It’s… It’s your… resume?” Yeonjun puzzles, flipping the paper sheet to the other side and back.
“I want to work here.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
Soobin licks his lips and puts his hands together that so far have been resting limp in his lap.
“Consider this my job application,” Soobin asserts and watches Yeonjun’s deepening confusion.
“But you- you have a job. In Seoul,” Yeonjun furrows his brows.
“I quit it.”
“You quit it?”
“Yes, I quit it.”
A moment of silence, thick and daunting and Soobin can hear every breath.
“Why?” Yeonjun then asks.
Here it is.
The other why.
The reasoning absent of much rationality, other than Seoul in its complete soullessness and the sleepless nights when the only thing he could see in everything and everyone was Yeonjun.
That is the why. Because after four months of seeing Yeonjun everywhere - in a stranger’s kind smile and handsome barista’s skilled hands and the Vespa driver’s flowing hair - he’s staring at the real thing again. The original painting in a land of dupes.
He never wants to look away.
They’re in a teepee tent built by four hands and a trust that stood the test of time. And offset from the rest of the world, that is the only truth Soobin has ever come to know.
“I think you could use me…” Soobin begins with difficulty, grimacing at the way it sounds, “you could use an employee like me.”
Yeonjun’s eyes glint in dissatisfaction.
“We can do this together, run the café together,” Soobin then adds quickly and quietly, scared for it too sound too naïve.
“Soobinie.”
Soobin grits his teeth, awaiting the impact of the following words. But he only hears a soft sigh.
“I can’t,” Yeonjun drops his eyes, “I told you that night and I’m telling you again. Soobinie, I can’t…”
Pursuing through the harsh sting, Soobin drags a long inhale.
“Why?”
Their world wound up in sea of whys. This why pools around the brims of Yeonjun’s eyes and infuses them with gloom.
There has to be a reason. There has to be something.
There is that something fighting its way to break through Yeonjun.
Soobin feasts his eyes on that something with a kind of inquisitiveness that is unlikely of him.
For a long time Yeonjun doesn’t answer. Soobin would ask again if he didn’t notice that why still working its way on Yeonjun’s features and the tightening of his fists. So he allows Yeonjun to not hand an answer at once. He watches this answer forming and then dying on Yeonjun’s lips more times then he could count as he opens his mouth to speak yet fails to follow through.
And when his gaze finally meets Soobin’s again, Yeonjun has transformed.
Where adult Yeonjun’s body sits cooped up in the booth, is now a boy in blossoming adolescence; that shoves his hands in his jean pockets by Soobin’s house, impatient for the boy to come outside, waiting for his partner in whatever endeavour he’s about to come up with amid the first harbingers of spring. That boy bleeds into a smile, one that creeps in easily at the sight of Soobin. That boy runs around Soobin’s bedroom all night, pirouettes through that charge of fresh energy coursing through him, drawing out fits of laughters from Soobin that are later muffled by the hand only to keep the nose down at the late hour. That boy gifts him his first kiss, granting Soobin to discover what intimacy means in that assuring press of lips against his own and the burning in his cheeks and the burning in his stomach that saw no ceasefire.
And for a moment Soobin believes that no time has passed.
For a moment Soobin believes they play out an alternate timeline with the years apart now erased, he’s stepped into the Fairy on a day like any other and sees Yeonjun that he has never stopped seeing, never looked away from.
There he is, the boy from all those years before.
There he is. Soobin’s soulmate.
Another breath that Yeonjun takes in. The last one.
“Because I can’t stop being in love with you.”
Yeonjun whispers.
Those words roll off of the cherry lips, they escape into freedom.
They send signals to every fibre of Soobin’s being.
But Soobin holds there irresponsive, not risking to believe he heard right.
“That is why,” Yeonjun cards a hand through his hair, his fingers shaking, “T-that’s why I can’t- I don’t think I can be a-around you. I thought I could- I thought that we could be friends, without ever having my feelings for you returned. But Soobinie, it’s tearing me apart. It’s been tearing me apart for years.”
Stunned into silence, Soobin’s mouth falls open, limbs still immobile and senses obliterated, the two single things his ears catch are Yeonjun’s frantic words and his own heart beating out of his chest, pounding in his ears so maddeningly fast it’s knocking him off balance.
“I wish I told you sooner, I-I wish I never complicated anything with my feelings. I just wish I didn’t- didn’t grow up madly in love with my best friend, but- but it was irreversible, it just- happened, I am so sorry Soobinie, so, so-”
Yeonjun’s voice breaks.
Yet those words still continue growing in meaning and take every beat of second coaxing Soobin into feeling the pulse of each vein in his body.
It can’t be.
He can’t be hearing right.
There isn’t a way for this truth to live out.
There isn’t such scene in Soobin’s collection of mental love letters to Yeonjun. His unrequited first and only love, a tragedy powered by the boy though the most colourful epithets his dictionary holds. A beauty too delicate to ever be acquired.
So he can’t be-
Can’t be on the flip side of the scenario this whole time.
It stuns Soobin into a lulling hypnosis, like he’s meeting the core of himself that never quite reached the creeks of his knowledge.
And that’s when it bursts.
That’s when it becomes real.
When tingles glide across his skin, a vibration cascading down the length of his body, thoroughly, entirely, perfectly and sets something off in the very pit of stomach that he has never before known to feel.
Yeonjun loves him.
Yeonjun is in love with him.
Yeonjun begins to slip away, deprived of an answer, but Soobin’s instinct kicks in faster.
Every cell of his body aches to believe Yeonjun, to not wake up from this fever dream. And he catches his body drawn in to test, to see, to believe.
He leans over to grasp Yeonjun’s hand, smaller and warmer in Soobin’s bigger one. That startles Yeonjun and his watery eyes shoot up to seek leverage in Soobin’s.
Floaty and rendered speechless, Soobin can only trust his body to gather a response. He finds the hand that took hold of Yeonjun pulling towards him; a small tug but Yeonjun goes easily. He allows Soobin to bring it towards his chest where his heart is desperate to rip out, to reach out to the contact of Yeonjun.
Prudently and ever so delicately, Soobin leads Yeonjun’s hand the rest on Soobin’s chest. Right where his heart is thrumming consistently against his ribcage.
“D-do you feel that?” Soobin hears himself say.
Yeonjun’s hot palm settles on Soobin’s chest.
“Woah,” he breathes out in response, eyes flickering from where his hand is laid to Soobin’s face, his own face flushed and a tad blissed.
“It’s- it’s going mad,” Soobin mutters, hopeful for Yeonjun to find it too, to feel his heart underneath his fingertips. He sees Yeonjun nodding, a little out of it and it makes Soobin woozy too.
Like their shared air grows drunk, gushing straight to their heads.
And Soobin plucks each word like a flower from a field blooming in magnificence for years, until the bouchette shapes into a single art piece: “You’re the cause of it.”
Yeonjun’s lips part.
His eyes open up. Wide, like a kid that wasn’t a fool to believe in a miracle.
And the forcefield of the magnetic pull takes its shape in the tiny space of the tent, levering Soobin defiantly into scooting towards the boy, the holder of the pull.
The ceaseless draw and Soobin a mere subject to its power.
He inches closer, closer to hear a breath hitch in Yeonjun’s throat.
The pull consumes the air in Soobin’s lungs.
The pull of gardens dripping in life and fire of ineradicable flames and the rain of liberating downpour.
Little by little Soobin keeps leaning in, slowly breaking distance, every inch nearer erasing a year, one by one, bit by bit, year by year. Until he meets Yeonjun in present.
Where they meet, their foreheads bump together gently. Their noses collide. They’re breathing the same heavy oxygen, lips centimetres apart. And every rushed breath of Yeonjun becomes Soobin’s own. The puffs of air hit Soobin’s lips and he can almost taste them, can almost take them, can visualise the thick sensation run down his spine like liquid.
They breathe each other on the very edge severing the last agonising space left between them.
But on that edge harmony is born, already spreading wings; an inkling of a silver lining forging into brilliant light.
And then, Soobin starts counting.
He seizes the seconds before awaited rapture.
Five
Years of departing.
Four
Months since they last were this close.
Three
Knocks on each other’s door.
Two
Centimetres left.
One
Last inhale-
“Can I kiss you?” Soobin mouths against Yeonjun’s lips.
“Please-”
The word cuts off and their lips brush together.
A press so light and still, they stay like that and the moment freezes.
Then Soobin starts moving his lips. Slowly. Unhurriedly. Passionately. Tempted to savour. He captures Yeonjun’s bottom lip and a whole wildlife of richness enlivens in his stomach.
And the sensation builds when Yeonjun responds to each kiss, asserting his devotion by gifting delicate, timid kisses back and the faintest noises of content.
Soobin slides his hand to cup Yeonjun’s cheek, deepens the kiss with an angle of his head and tastes the sweet allure without rushing, without racing against time. Knowing he’s received all the time of the world to explore the cherry lips and the sensation that the contact ignites.
That knowledge fills him with light and he’s levitating, he’s above ground.
He’s high on ecstasy for the first time in his life of sobriety.
But then he senses that his cheeks have turned damp. It brings him back to the ground, his body at least, head still caught up in the clouds.
Soobin disconnects their lips carefully, leans away just enough to crack his eyes open and stare up at the other.
And what he sees rattles the bones in his body.
Yeonjun is crying.
Eyes screwed shut, pink tint in the apples of his cheeks, teardrops pouring down his face in an unbroken stream and chest rising and falling in concealed sobs.
Soobin lightly caresses his own cheek, wet from catching Yeonjun’s tears.
“If I- if I p-pinch myself, will I w-wake up? And- and you’ll be g-gone?” Yeonjun sniffles, sound caught on a tiny sob.
It sends a harsh pinch right to the centre of Soobin’s heart.
He’s asking, fearing, refusing to open eyes to confirm his horrid theory.
So Soobin takes hold of Yeonjun’s cheeks, lets the tears roll into his palms, relishes the feeling of having the boy in his arms.
“Hey, hey, hyung, look at me,” Soobin calls in a hushed voice, scoring Yeonjun to finally open his eyes, “I’m real, this- this is real, you’re not gonna wake up.”
Yeonjun swallows, hands grabbing Soobin’s that cup his cheeks, in a desperate search for reality.
The glossy spectacles in Yeonjun’s eyes are ammunition for seeking any way Soobin can prove it.
“I love you,” Soobin whispers to him, the way it rolls off of his tongue so easily making him dizzy, “I am in love with you, hyung.”
“R-really?”
“Yes. Yes. A hundred times yes. I love you, I am in love with you. Have been for this whole damn time, hyung.”
Each time Soobin says it, each time he solidifies his confession, it deepens his intoxication.
Yeonjun presses a kiss to Soobin’s lips again, impatient, but oh-so-sweet. They’re bathing in each other again. Lips mould together as if they are a right fit. As if it’s the law of science. Yeonjun sneaks a smile into the kiss and there’s nothing that has felt better. And the magnetic pull claims its victory.
“Were you serious about the job?” Yeonjun asks after they hesitantly pull away.
“Yes.”
“Do you think we could- we could do this… together?” Yeonjun tests out this proposal so vigilant, carefully examining the feel of a promise. But the corners of his lips twitch upwards.
Soobin feels drunk.
“We’re stuck like glue anyways.”
The sun sets and they are forced to climb out into the real world.
Yeonjun grips his hair in a moment of panic, babbling about forgetting to lock up. Muttering about checking up on Beomgyu and Kai.
But really he’s still beaming. Steadying his spinning head and drunkenly guiding them back to the world.
Soobin knows.
Soobin feels the same.
So before Yeonjun hurtles to leave the teepee tent he flips his head around one last time to spare Soobin a glance.
And Yeonjun pulls his lips into a smile that radiates extraordinariness, kept under the wraps until this very moment, now finally rolling free.
And Soobin sees Yeonjun for the first time again.
[end]
Chapter 17: notes & acknowledgements
Chapter Text
My dear reader,
Welcome to Author’s note or Author’s end note or whatever this could be defined as. Can you tell this is my first time doing this? haha.
Is it excessive to make a Notes & Acknowledgements as a separate chapter? I don’t know, but if you’re even taking the time of your day to read this, if you’ve made it this far, hell, even if you read just one chapter, I just want to say thank you from the bottom of my heart.
This sort of feels like a diary entry for some reason, my heart is so full yet so empty at the end of this journey. And there is so much I want to say yet so little space for it. But one thing that I want to get off my chest is that there were so many (too many) times when this story almost didn’t see the light of day. I was so close to scrapping it or abandoning it before I even posted the first chapter. This story impacted me a lot and took a direction which I never expected it to take. I started writing in March of this year with no real intention to develop it into anything. I wrote the very first scene where Soobin arrives in the Fairy and sees Yeonjun for the first time in five years in a moment of sentiment that I was so caught up in during winter lockdown. I was deprived of human contact, gentleness, romance or anything sort of real at that time. I put the story away right after that first scene and picked it up maybe a month later again when the plot finally started shaping in my head and for the first time it felt like it could turn into something. It is funny how the file is still saved as “fic?” on my computer with a question mark, because the initial draft didn’t feel like it could ever be called that.
But look where we are. I can’t believe we’re at the end.
And it wouldn’t be right to say only I did it. Because if it was only up to me, I probably wouldn’t be here publishing the final chapter. So there are people that have become just as big a part of this as I am:
☼ First of all, none of this would have ever happened without my sister peachy_m (she is a great writer too, check out her stories!! i beta read for her sometimes hihi). She witnessed the birth of every chapter and the emotional roller coasters they took me on, she read my attempts chapter by chapter before this story even earned a title and she encouraged me to continue more times than i could count. Actually, she didn’t allow me to quit. So thank you, for forbidding me to leave this story until the very end.
☼ Secondly, I want to thank all of you readers for supporting, for commenting, for living with me through this. I sound like a broken record, but you sharing your thoughts and feelings in the comment section or even you appreciating the story silently, it just… it just- that’s everything to me. It is a new type of connection that I have never felt before, it is a vulnerable, personal moment for me and just know that every comment means a lot to me. Special thank you to littlederxnged and meltslike. I thought about you a lot by every update I posted. Truly. <3
As you may have noticed, music plays a huge role in this story. Songs have been the driving motor for the plot, the characters and building the atmosphere for the scenes. The very first chapter I titled after Duncan Laurence’s Arcade where he sings “small town boy in a big arcade, I get addicted to a losing game”. And as you know, the story title itself Chew On My Heart is alluding to James Bay song of the same title. I came across that song and it filled me up with butterflies, itching my fingers to write this story out. The last two chapter titles are lyrics from the chorus: What would it feel like if you tore me apart? / Come on, chew on my heart. The song still captures everything that this story is.
I am emotional, I am touched by all of you, I am so so grateful. I’ve been living with this story for so long, it is embedded in my heart and yet somehow it wasn’t always easy to write it. Though the whole course of the storyline came to me early on, I oftentimes struggled to convey this world in my head and in my heart and be satisfied with how it looks reduced to words. It has been a part of me, it still is a part of me that holds a lot of meaning and that I can never be indifferent about. Especially the last two chapters were extremely difficult to write, they were a lot and I am in a different headspace than I was when I started this, I am also in a completely different country and my life looks a lot different. So I was searching for myself a lot in order to be able to finish this once and for all. Chapter 15 ripped everything out of me, I was crying while writing it. I discovered how much power writing gives and how much power writing carries. I’ve been able to explore and learn the depths of English, especially since it is not my native language. It really feels like an adventure.
Gee. I could go on for hours but I promised myself that i wouldn’t make this a/n the length of a whole chapter haha. So if this story has touched you too I made curious cat, where you are more than welcome to ask or say anything. It would make me so happy. Also, come chat on Twitter. Let’s talk about anything, okay? Don’t be a stranger ;)
❃Here are all the links one last time:❃
chew on my heart spotify playlist
chew on my heart pinterest board
carrd
curious cat
Thank you again and signing off,
fairyofbeomgyu x
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