Chapter Text
Summer, 1982. Bupyeong All Boys High School.
The school rooftop.
A place once known for its quiet grace—a hidden sanctuary floating above the chaos below. The wind always seemed a little softer, and the sky always just within reach here. Students had long claimed it as their own: to daydream, to cry, to confess. It was where all the I want to go to SNU, I can't wait to leave this damn school, I hope to stay here a little longer, were said.
It was where whispered wishes and secret fears were set free, a place for hopes, for longing.
Until some students turned it into their personal boxing ring.
“I can’t even understand you with that dumb fucking accent, Mad Dog,” one boy jeered, his uniform a lazy mess of undone buttons and a necktie hanging somewhere around his chest. He mimicked the sharp, sing-song lilt of the Daegu dialect with mocking exaggeration. “What’re you lookin’ at, huh? You some kind of thug?”
Beomgyu didn’t flinch. He stepped forward with a calm demeanor instead, so icy it made the air between them freeze.
He didn’t need to raise his voice or puff out his chest—his silence spoke louder. No smug grin. No dramatic posturing. Just that deadpan, unreadable face and eyes too dark, too tired, too old for someone his age.
Despite the soft features—doe-like eyes, round lips—something about Beomgyu unsettled people. Maybe it was the way he looked at you like he already knew your secrets, (he does), and maybe it was the way his presence alone made the atmosphere feel heavier.
Beomgyu, the leader of Bupyeong 313 Titan.
The boys taunting him clearly hadn’t done their homework. They didn’t know who they were messing with. They only knew that one of their guys had gotten his ass handed to him by Beomgyu a few days ago. What they didn’t know was that it happened because their guy had been beating up a random student in the alley, and Beomgyu… Well, Beomgyu had rules.
And one of them was: You don’t lay a hand on someone who doesn't deserve it.
“I’ll say this once,” Beomgyu said, voice low, but steady. No nervousness, as if he had practiced for this kind of moment. But honestly? You just get used to it. “Get the hell out of here. Don’t mess with me. Don’t mess with my boys.”
Instead of backing down, the group burst into laughter, nudging each other and mimicking his accent again.
“Look, the puppy’s barking! Say arf! Wanna play catch, buddy?”
His gang stirred behind him, fists clenched and ready, but Beomgyu didn’t move. He raised one hand to stop them.
He wanted to handle this himself. And so, his eyes scanned the group like a seasoned general: identifying the leader, the weak links, the hotheads, the cowards.
He didn’t bother to announce his next move.
He struck.
A single, clean punch snapped across the leader’s jaw. The boy’s head twisted mid-air before he crumpled to the ground, completely blindsided. Gasps and a few startled cheers came from the crowd peeking through the stairwell door. No one dared enter, but word spread like wildfire.
“Bupyeong Titan Leader versus Yeongsan Tiger Clan Leader! Beomgyu won!”
From whispers to excited murmurs, boys shoved each other aside to catch a glimpse of the chaos unfolding.
The fight broke loose in full now. The other boys lunged in, some faster than others. Beomgyu’s body moved with precision—like someone who’d fought enough to learn how to fight smart. Not every hit landed, but enough did. He moved with a brutal, fluid rhythm.
Duck. Strike. Step back. Elbow. Sidekick.
He targeted the strongest first, taking down the leader’s right-hand with a solid knee to the gut. The rest began to falter—some slowing down, others hesitating.
Blood on his lip. Dust all over his shirt. He stood tall and stared at the others, unwavering.
“Come on,” he said simply, almost disappointed. “Come at me.”
But none of them did.
Even through the bruises forming on his jaw and cheekbone, Beomgyu looked unshaken. The others—suddenly so idle—had nothing left to say. They stared at him, eyes flicking down to their fallen leader, then back up to the boy who didn’t even look out of breath.
That was the moment they realized the real threat had been in front of them the entire time.
Indeed, the Mad Dog.
The stairwell door burst open with a crash. Rushed footsteps. A furious shout.
“YAH! What the hell are you kids doing?! Aren’t you from neighbourhood school?!”
The gym teacher’s voice thundered across the rooftop.
“And you—Choi Beomgyu! To the principal’s office. Now!”
So much for justice.
𖦹
“Beomgyu,” the principal sighed heavily, his tone more tired than angry. “If you keep this up, we’ll have no choice but to suspend you, and I really don’t want to do that—but I will if I have to.”
He slid a paper across the desk. Every single day for three months, Beomgyu was told that he had to clean all the toilets in the school. Not that he hasn't done that, after all.
That was the reason he memorized every single place where the students hide their stash of forbidden things. Cigarette packs, Fentanyl, condoms, a whole 1L bottle of lube. You name it.
Beomgyu didn’t argue. Just nodded, then reached for the pen.
“...And I’ll be calling your mother.”
“She’s overseas,” Beomgyu lied flatly.
She wasn’t. She was in Daegu. Same old apartment. Same bitter voice on the phone every weekend, asking why he hadn’t sent money or returned to help with the old restaurant with no permit.
“Well,” the principal murmured, flipping through Beomgyu’s file, filled with multiple papers of detention, punishment, and disciplinary problem history, “at least your grades are amazing. Keep your head down. Finish your hours. Maybe you’ll still get into a decent university, got it?”
Beomgyu signed the paper, stood, and bowed quietly before heading back to class.
He walked in through the back door. The class immediately fell silent. The teacher didn’t say anything—just raised a brow before continuing the lecture. Typical Beomgyu, a normal scene for them every other week.
“Beom!” Beomgyu’s gang scrambled to make space, one of them wiping off his chair with their sleeve like a loyal attendant.
He sat down, greeting them, then opened his book like nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t just fought five guys on the rooftop and earned another three months of punishment.
He took out a pen and started taking notes.
Not a single word. Not a single reaction.
A different kind of insane.
Their lesson finished as the bell rang, and people rushed to the cafeteria, some decided to go and play basketball instead, and a few stayed in class to eat, including Beomgyu and the gang.
Some others though, thought sneaking around checking out pretty boys was way better than eating.
“Where? Where’s the new kid?”
A smooth, honey-dipped voice whispered just past the edge of a sliding window, hushed but way too excited for a Monday morning. Yeonjun leaned in dangerously, hair falling into his eyes as he squinted into Class 3-1.
Two heads flanked him—Taehyun, ever observant, and Wooyoung, who was already grinning like he’d won the lottery.
“This is your fault,” Yeonjun muttered as he smacked the back of Wooyoung’s head. “I was sick for three damn days because of that pudding you bought, and missed the arrival of a literal angel.”
“Oh come on, I didn't know it was expired!”
“Shut the fuck up, guys—there,” Taehyun said, chin nudging toward the middle of the class. “Tall. Center row. Reading.”
And there he was.
A guy with soft, pearly skin and cheeks like they were carved out of tteok. Tall and slender, black glasses perched neatly on his nose, eyes locked on a book while he picked politely at his lunch, rolled kimbap. Lips plush and pouty, a soft curve to his jaw. He even chewed prettily, damn it.
Taehyun slung an arm around both Yeonjun and Wooyoung. “Choi Soobin. Moved from Pohang. Rich. Rumor has it, his father is a director at a company. Big house in Gangnam. Parents travel to Europe often. Wears loafers with real gold bits. Full deal. I’m telling you, he's straight out of a TV drama.”
Wooyoung nodded rhythmically, whistling just a little loud, enough for just them to hear. “Agreed, definitely a whole other level than us.”
Yeonjun grinned, almost painfully charming. “Damn it, if only I was in that class.”
“If only you weren’t a player and a slacker, and got in 3-6,” Wooyoung quipped, poking him in the side. “Maybe then you'd get placed with the pretty geniuses.”
“Shut up.”
Yeonjun continued eyeing the classroom, full of pretty, bright-eyed model students. 3-1 really was the elite class. The kind of kids who got full marks, while at the same time joining various competitions, whether it'd be sports or musical, and somehow still had flawless skin despite the heat.
Except.
One student didn’t fit that description.
Sitting in the very back, limbs sprawled out like he didn’t give a damn—but he did, the reason he was in this class to begin with—was a boy whose uniform looked like it had survived a typhoon. Hair fell over his forehead in messy strands. Bandages wrapped carelessly around one hand, one over his cheek, and another white, thin one just across the bridge of his nose. His blazer was slung over the chair. His expression? Cold-blooded. Lethal.
Beomgyu.
And he was staring straight at Yeonjun.
Again.
Yeonjun groaned, recoiling back like he’d seen a ghost, brushing his face. “Ugh. Why is he staring at me again? I swear, it’s like I owe him money.”
Wooyoung and Taehyun leaned in to check—and instantly burst into laughter. Taehyun even snorted.
“Oh, come on,” Wooyoung grinned. “Did you forget? Mad dog has the biggest crush on you.”
Right. That.
The leader of Bupyeong Titan, Mad dog—infamous for street fights, rage-fueled battles, and terrifying glares—had a very not-so-secret crush on Choi Yeonjun. It has been going on for a year now. Maybe more. No one really knew when it started. One day, Beomgyu just walked up to Yeonjun and said:
“Choi Yeonjun, I like you. Go out with me.”
And then did it again. And again. Every week. Like clockwork.
Sometimes with chocolate. Sometimes red bean buns. Sometimes... nothing but that same blunt, unreadable voice. Never sweet. Never soft. Just direct.
Of course, Yeonjun turned him down every single time.
But well, that didn’t stop Beomgyu.
Yeonjun risked another peek. Beomgyu had returned to his lunch—now aggressively biting into a piece of fried chicken like he meant to commit murder. There was something terrifyingly focused about the way he chewed.
Yeonjun winced. “I swear, I feel like he’s imagining me as the chicken.”
“Or boyfriend,” Taehyun teased.
Yeonjun scoffed. “Boyfriend? He looks like he wants to kill me, not go out with me.”
“Oh don't blame him, boy's probably jealous that you're looking at someone else~”
Whatever.
He turned back to the class, eyes drifting once again to the soft glow of Choi Soobin. A living painting. A walking romance drama’s main character. And no bandages in sight.
Yeonjun sighed dramatically, before walking away.
“Choi Soobin... you're mine~”
And Beomgyu, on the other hand, wasn't thrilled. At all.
Yeonjun, leaning by the window, starry-eyed over the new kid? Really?
It left a bitter taste in Beomgyu’s mouth.
Yeonjun had practically dated half the school by now, or even half of the town—not officially, no. He never used the word “girlfriend” or “boyfriend” so far. He just knew how to smile at the right time, knew how to make someone’s heart skip a beat, how to let them hope for something before gently, almost sweetly, stepping away.
But with Beomgyu? He’d never even tried. Never spared him that kind of look. Never gave him even half of that soft attention.
Which hurt. Because Beomgyu liked him. A lot more than he probably should.
And he wanted to punch him or something. Ugh.
He stared down at his untouched rice, chewing the inside of his cheek as he watched Yeonjun laugh at something Taehyun said.
Then, without much thought, Beomgyu turned to one of his boys and muttered, “Tell Yeonjun to meet me behind the school building. After class.”
The message was clear. Not a threat—never to Yeonjun. Just another shot in the dark.
His friend offered him a dumpling from their lunchbox. He shook his head. He had other things to deal with.
Like making sure Yeonjun didn’t fall for someone else.
The rest of the day passed slower than usual. Beomgyu being somewhat a model student, he did try paying attention in class still, although anyone could tell he seemed out of place today—too busy scribbling in the margins of his notebook, staring out the window, trying not to look every time he heard footsteps and laughter in the hallway.
By the time the final bell rang, the school emptied out like a draining fish tank—students spilling out in every direction, shoes squeaking against the linoleum floors, the air thick with afterschool chatter and plans for the night. Some students stayed to clean up the class according to their duty, stacking chairs and tables on one another.
Beomgyu didn’t move. He waited. Sat at his desk for a few more minutes while the noise faded. And when the room finally quieted down, leaving only very few students left, he stood, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, and made his way to the back of the school.
The sun was low—orange light casting long shadows on the concrete walls. The kind of warm glow that made everything look softer than it really was.
And Yeonjun was already there, leaning against the wall with that same casual, effortless cool he always had. Hair just a little messy, collar popped slightly, hands in his blazer pockets like he hadn’t just been summoned. Just so damn perfect.
“Again?” he called out, whining as Wooyoung and Taehyun stood behind him like curious kittens. “What is this, round twelve? Or round twelve hundred? Gonna beat me up if I don't accept you today, BG?”
Beomgyu didn’t answer right away. Just walked up slowly, letting the silence hang for a second too long. He pulled out something from the pocket of his bag, handing it to Yeonjun.
“I got a bracelet for you.” He handed it casually to Yeonjun.
A bracelet he actually made himself—every knot tied with care, every thread chosen with way too much thought. All for Yeonjun. But of course, when he gave it to him, the nerves got the best of him, and he just said he bought it. It was a dark blue string, twisted into a simple pattern, adorned with tiny stars in different shades of blue and yellow. Quiet, subtle, but still a little piece of him.
But of course, Yeonjun sighed and pushed his hand away gently.
“Please, just, buy it for someone who will accept you okay? Like Lim Jimin, for example,” Yeonjun desperately said, giving him a pout and a begging eyes.
“I told you, we're not together, he's not my boyfriend,” Beomgyu frowned.
Lim Jimin—the leader of Blue Jaws Bupyeong, the other gang from across town, and someone Beomgyu’s gang was allied with. A guy Yeonjun wouldn’t even consider dating, not in a million years because punk was crazy as hell, straight-up unhinged.
And worst of all? He had some kind of claim over Beomgyu, always going around calling him “his pretty boy” or whatever. Anyone even thinking of talking to Beomgyu risked getting their head kicked in.
Yeonjun just groaned yet again, crossing his arms. “And does he know that? because I bet he's going to beat me up the moment he sees me talking to you.”
“I’ll beat him up if he ever dares touch you,” At that Wooyoung shrieked, only to get a swift elbow to the ribs from Taehyun.
Beomgyu barely flinched, not caring about the other two. Yeonjun, on the other hand, sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose like he had a migraine coming on.
“BG, can I have one week of peace? Just one or two or even more? You know what my answer’s gonna be, every single time.”
“But what if it changes?” Beomgyu asked, not even hopeful—just stubborn.
“It won’t,” Yeonjun said flatly. “At least not this year. And not until you cool it with the fighting, the getting bruises every single day, the gang stuff—just everything, got it? You and that gang of yours…”
And then, he smacked Beomgyu lightly on the arm. Just like that. Out of desperation that Beomgyu would leave him alone, at least for this week and the next one to come.
Taehyun and Wooyoung froze, jaws dropping. One of them looked ready to bolt, another turned pale. Because seriously—who just smacks the leader of Bupyeong Titan like it’s no big deal?
But Beomgyu only winced, brushing over the area he smacked. Didn’t growl, didn’t glare. In fact, his ears turned a little pink, but the expressionless face remained.
Yeah. Pretty stupid.
“Pick a lane okay, you wanna be a gangster or a top-tier student? You can’t have both,” Yeonjun said as he stretched his arms over his head. “Anyway, I’m leaving. Don't follow me back home! Or I’ll report you for following and threatening me, bye!”
And just like that, he walked off, shoulders relaxed—he was pretending—hands in his pockets, slipping right between Taehyun and Wooyoung without even glancing back.
“Y-yah Choi Yeonjun, wait for us!” They hesitated between just running and not looking back, or bowing towards Beomgyu firstly. They eventually picked the latter though, nervously greeting him before bolting away.
Beomgyu didn’t chase him. Any of them. Didn’t say a word. He just watched him walk away, before the two other boys chased after Yeonjun, yelled at him too. His eyes, though, drifted down to the old, worn-out sneakers Yeonjun always wore—frayed at the seams, the laces almost grey.
“I’ll see you soon, I’m not going to stop confessing until you accept me, Choi Yeonjun,” he muttered, voice steady, expression unreadable.
But no one—not even his gang—had any idea just how loud his heart was screaming from the brief interaction.
𖦹
Friday morning.
Yeonjun hadn’t seen Beomgyu for a while—well, he had seen him, but he tried his absolute best to avoid him and his gang completely, like they were some contagious disease. He took longer routes just to avoid walking past Beomgyu and the gang hanging out by the stairs before P.E, ran the other way whenever he spotted any of the gang members, and even sent Wooyoung and Taehyun as his spies today.
Because he had a mission.
To talk to the angel.
It was recess. As usual, some students headed to the dirt court to play basketball. And under a tree by the court, sitting quietly with a thick book in his hands, headphone around his neck, was a boy wearing glasses—reading again.
Ah, what a sight to behold.
Yeonjun charmingly made his way to the bench Soobin was seated on and sat right beside him. Soobin paid no mind, staying focused on his book.
“Hey, thought I saw an angel. Came closer, and it really is an angel.”
Yeonjun tried to start a conversation, but Soobin remained quiet for a moment before finally closing his book and turning to him.
“Who are you? Why are you talking to me?”
Oh, what a beautiful, deep voice too.
“You seemed lonely, just wanted to say hi.” Yeonjun cleared his throat, attempting to make an introduction, maybe. “Name’s Yeonjun.”
Soobin just stared at the hand extended to him, then looked back up. “You’re disturbing my reading time. Leave me alone.”
And just like that, he left. Hurting Yeonjun’s dignity.
“Oh, of course I’m not hurt. I’ll just keep talking to him until he falls for me~” Yeonjun tried to play it cool, eyes fixed on the basketball game happening nearby like he wasn’t spiraling.
Which made it even more ridiculous when the ball smacked him in the head. And again.
Twice in a row.
What a comedy sitcom.
That scene was, again, seen by Beomgyu—from the rooftop. Stupid Yeonjun, he said to himself, a box of something nice in his hand. He wouldn't give up though. He would ask him out, again and again, until the day Yeonjun eventually said yes.
“Choi Yeonjun,”
Beomgyu called out as they were on their way back after the last bell of the school rang. They were currently at one of the food vendors close by the school where students usually hung out. Beomgyu's gang sat at another table, dragging Wooyoung and Taehyun with them.
“Yah!” Yeonjun screamed, a little surprised as he was getting some food. “You scared the hell out of me. What now, BG?? Are you confessing to me outside of school too?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Yet. You were about to! Something like, ‘Go out with me’ or, ‘Let’s date,’ like you always do.” Yeonjun sighed. “And let me tell you, this isn’t love, okay? This is a threat.” He whined hard, looking down over his hand. “You have your hands in fists.”
Beomgyu loosened his fists. “I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did! You were about to punch me.”
He rolled his eyes.
“Anyway, here.” Beomgyu ignored whatever he was saying and pulled out something from his bag, and handed him the gift he got for him—the latest shoes he bought with the money he had saved for a long time. “For you.”
Oh? Yeonjun calmed down a bit, looking at the box. No way Beomgyu bought him the latest popular Converse.
“Y-You bought me shoes?”
“Yeah. No need to accept me. I’m not confessing to you right now, I just wanted to buy them for you.”
“How do you know my size?”
“I broke into your house and measured your foot while you were sleeping.”
No, Beomgyu had actually checked his sandals from when Yeonjun came early to school, and also looked at his old shoes in the shoe locker. He noticed Yeonjun had filled the front of the soles with some paper, indicating they were too big for him—so he just assumed what size might fit, and hoped he got it right.
“You crazy ass—so they’re really for me? I’m going to accept this. Is that okay?”
“Yeah. Enjoy.” Beomgyu watched, amused as Yeonjun excitedly tried them on as they sat down at a table. And surprisingly, they fit Yeonjun very well.
“Wahhhh~” Yeonjun cheered happily, stood up, jogged in place, ran a circle around the table, and ended it with a pose, crossing his arms. “How do I look?”
Beomgyu simply nodded, holding in a smile. “The shoes look good on you.”
“I appreciate it. We’re friends now, BG~” Yeonjun grinned.
Until he felt an arm wrap around him.
“Who said anything about being friends?”
That voice alone made Yeonjun shiver, while Beomgyu rolled his eyes.
Lim Jimin. Blue Jaws gang leader. The one feared by everyone because of his cruelty. Unlike Beomgyu, Jimin’s gang actually threatened everyone they liked—something Beomgyu hated. He often saved people Jimin targeted, which was one reason Jimin had been relatively mild lately.
But not when it came to Yeonjun.
“Jimin, get off him,” Beomgyu glared.
“Okay, okay.” Jimin chuckled, letting go of Yeonjun, although he kept his sharp gaze fixed on him. “Beomgyu definitely bought it for me, didn’t you? Ah, that’s so sweet~”
Beomgyu stood up, giving Jimin another look. But Jimin didn’t care. He grabbed Yeonjun’s shirt tightly.
“Get those shoes off you.”
“W-What?”
“The shoes,” Jimin repeated, his voice low and threatening. “Give them to me.”
Yeonjun didn’t waste any time. He quickly removed them and handed them to Jimin, who shoved his feet in even though they didn’t fit well.
“Perfect, I love it! Thanks, Gyu-yah~” He ruffled Beomgyu’s hair, and Beomgyu just sighed. Screw this man, honestly. He turned to look at Yeonjun instead, giving him a guilty look.
“A-Ah, of course it’s for you! I was just asked to test it for you. Thank you and enjoy your day, Jimin-ssi!”
Yeonjun bowed and immediately ran off, nearly tripping over his old, broken shoes.
While Beomgyu couldn't do anything, just stared. Like a coward.
“What’re you waiting for, pretty? We’ve got kids to beat up. Some punks from Yeongsan are bothering my kids again,” Jimin said, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he walked.
And Beomgyu just followed, thinking of how to retrieve those damn shoes back.
Yeonjun, though? He was scared shitless by Jimin—but he kept his cool. Because tomorrow, he would be seeing the angel, his angel again. Make a move. Say something clever. Befriend him perhaps.
Screw Beomgyu. Whatever. He could go play gangster with his silly Blue Jaws boss or whatever. He could come to school bruised on the arms, face, lips—didn’t matter. Not like Yeonjun was paying attention.
Ugh, not like he cared.
Not at all.
𖦹
Yeonjun didn’t do anything. Not for two weeks.
He just watched.
From the window of his class, from the corridor, from the side of the building while pretending to tie his shoes. Always catching a glimpse of Soobin under the same bench, beneath the same tree, flipping through different books every day.
(Seriously, how was it humanly possible to finish a thick novel in one day and move on to another the next?)
He had tried, really. Tried to say something. Tried to speak. But every time he stumbled upon Soobin in person, that soft-spoken angel, the words just swam back down into his throat, drowning in nerves.
Once, on a rainy afternoon, Yeonjun even waited ten full minutes after the final bell rang—just in case Soobin stepped out of the library late, like always. Maybe then he could offer to walk him to the bus stop. Share his umbrella. Say… something.
But Soobin walked straight out and into a car without sparing a glance.
Fuck.
And just like that, the umbrella went to Beomgyu instead—who showed up a moment later, soaked from head to toe, wearing the expression of a kicked puppy. Probably came from the rooftop again, picking fights or protecting the innocent people on the streets or whatever it was Beomgyu did when he disappeared during breaks.
Annoying.
Still, Yeonjun sighed and shoved the umbrella toward him. He wasn’t about to let the guy melt in the rain.
Anyway, that was his mission now. Operation: Get Soobin to Talk to Him.
Even if it meant taking the longest route back from the bathroom just to pass by Soobin’s classroom, peeking through the door to see him quietly eating from that ridiculously fancy-looking lunchbox. Always alone. Always reading. Sometimes writing.
How could a person be so damn dreamy?
He even started timing his pace to match Soobin. Not following exactly—he wasn’t that creepy—but just… admiring from a distance, watching how Soobin read while walking. Like, actively reading. One of these days he was going to walk straight into a wall like that, or bump into someone.
But then—
Soobin stopped.
Closed his book mid-chapter.
Turned around.
And walked straight up to Yeonjun.
Shit.
"You know," Soobin said, arms crossed, "if you have something to say, just say it. The whole following-me-around thing is getting kinda boring."
Yeonjun froze. “I—I wasn’t following—”
“Are you trying to be a creep?”
“Wha—No! I was just walking!” He scrambled. “Maybe... we’re fated to be soulmates if we keep bumping into each other like this~”
“I was walking in circles, going from the second floor to this floor, three times already,” Soobin deadpanned. “If you didn’t notice.”
Oh.
“Well…”
“You want to be my friend that badly, huh?” Soobin gave him a suspiciously innocent look, adjusting his glasses. “Chase after me, then~”
Yeonjun blinked. Then smirked. Finally—finally—some progress.
“What do you mean ‘chase after you’? Thought this was a cheeky, love-sappy drama?”
“Look who’s talking,” Soobin scoffed, stepping closer, “when you’re the one following me around like a kitten begging for food and head rubs.”
“Maybe I am a kitten begging for food and head rubs,” Yeonjun said, tilting his head and pushing a hand through his hair, teasing.
And Soobin… laughed.
Holy shit. He made Soobin laugh.
“You’re funny,” Soobin grinned. “It’s lunch time. Come to my class, let’s eat together.”
Yeonjun’s brain short-circuited. He had completely forgotten about buying drinks from the vending machine—a dumb errand he owed to Wooyoung and Taehyun after losing a bet about when he'd finally get Soobin to talk to him.
Well. He definitely just won.
He followed Soobin into Class 3-1, pulling a chair over to sit directly across from him. Soobin pulled out a pristine three-tiered lunch box filled with rice and an array of fancy-looking side dishes—and offered to share.
Yeonjun swore he was the luckiest man alive.
He forgot everything else. Forgot the failed attempts. Forgot the nerves. Forgot about his friends—
And forgot about Beomgyu.
Who sat quietly at the back of the class, eyes flicking up from behind his bangs to watch Yeonjun and Soobin smiling, laughing, eating together like they were in a world of their own.
Beomgyu—jealous and pissed—stood up suddenly, muttered something about going to the bathroom, and left the room. But not before glancing once more, peeking in through the window on his way out.
Yeonjun didn’t see him.
But Soobin did.
While he pushed his chopsticks toward Yeonjun and offered a piece of sweetened egg, Soobin’s gaze flicked toward the hallway window, his expression unreadable—until the faintest glint appeared in his eyes.
And a smirk.
Barely there.
Thrown straight toward Beomgyu, as he quickly left, thinking about it.
Oh?
Interesting.
“Anyway, Yeonjun-ssi,” Soobin turned to him with a smile, eyes shining with mischief. “Why do you always stare at me? Do you like doing that? Or do you stare at everyone like that?”
Yeonjun nearly choked on his food. Soobin, without missing a beat, slid his water bottle over to him.
Damn.
“A-ah, well—uh, I mean,” Yeonjun stammered, “You seemed kind of... lonely? Like you didn’t have any friends, so I thought maybe I’d try to befriend you. Y’know?”
“Really? That’s quite kind of you,” Soobin said, tilting his head. “Though I have heard a few rumors about you.”
Yeonjun blinked. “O-oh? Like what?”
“You've dated half the school and broken even more hearts,” Soobin replied casually, sipping his drink. “Is that true?”
Yeonjun let out a dramatic scoff. “What—no! Those are just rumors! Baseless, ridiculous rumors. Please don’t think I’m weird.”
Soobin rested his chin on his palm, watching him intently with that annoyingly adorable smile, his dimple making a deadly appearance. Yeonjun’s stomach flipped.
“Haha, no worries,” Soobin said sweetly. “Rumors aren’t real unless there’s actual proof, right? You’re safe—I haven’t seen any evidence~”
Yeonjun could only grin, a little too guilty.
“But I can see why people would think that. You’ve got the look,” Soobin added, eyes scanning Yeonjun’s face. “You’re handsome.”
Yeonjun blinked. “You think I’m handsome?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” Soobin chuckled, leaning back, still smiling like ethereal being. Like an angel who fell from heaven, forgot everything, but somehow kept all the charm and grace.
So unlike someone Yeonjun was trying really hard not to think about right now.
As Soobin finished the last bites of his lunch, he nudged the lunchbox toward Yeonjun. “Want more? Also... we should hang out more. I’ve seen you with your friends—I’d like to get to know them too.”
Was this a dream? Did Yeonjun save a village in a past life?
“Of course! That’d be great. You can tag along with us anytime—we can have lunch in the cafeteria, my class, here, anywhere you like!”
“Sounds lovely~ You can always come to my class. I’m sure no one would mind, hehe~ It’s nice befriending you, Yeonjun-ssi.”
“Hey, just Yeonjun is fine.”
“Yeonjun? Hmm... okay. Then Yeonjun-ah. Or... Yeonjunnie?”
Yeonjun nearly passed out right there.
“Anything you call me, Soobinie, I’ll accept it.”
“Soobinie?” Soobin chuckled again. “That’s cute. You’re cute.”
Yeonjun laughed, unable to help himself. What a day. He was already imagining Wooyoung and Taehyun’s shocked faces when he told them about this.
“You’re cuter. I’ll get going—class is about to start. Next time, lunch is on me.”
“Okay, Yeonjun-ah. Bye!”
Yeonjun waved and jogged out of the classroom, practically skipping down the hallway. He even punched the air with a stupid grin on his face. He did it. After two weeks of being a total coward, he’d finally talked to Soobin—and somehow, Soobin wanted to be friends. Or more?
He should give himself a pat on the back. Maybe thank the heavens, too, for sending him an angel like Soobin.
But as he disappeared down the corridor, he didn’t see the small smirk tug at Soobin’s lips.
Because Soobin had a mission.
One no one else knew.
Only him.
𖦹
Beomgyu didn’t go back to class right away.
He watched Yeonjun leave, still grinning like he’d just won the lottery. And Soobin, left behind, smiling just as sweetly—too sweetly, maybe. Beomgyu leaned against the wall, his knuckles pressed to the glass window as he stared through the slit, watching Soobin pack up his things neatly, humming to himself.
There was something off.
That smile didn’t reach his eyes. That wasn’t how someone looked at someone they just met.
He chewed on the inside of his cheek, forcing himself to turn away.
Later that afternoon, rain had dried off from the pavement, and the sky turned into a warm gold as the sun peeked back out. Beomgyu walked side by side with Kai, their steps falling into rhythm on the cracked sidewalk. Neither of them said anything for a moment. Beomgyu’s hands were shoved deep into his jacket pockets, his shoulders tense.
“You good?” Kai asked, finally, not looking at him. “You’ve been weirdly quiet since lunch.”
Beomgyu sighed, not answering immediately.
“It’s Soobin, huh?”
Beomgyu shot him a look. “How’d you guess?”
Kai shrugged. “You only make that face when something’s messing with your head. And you’ve been staring at him for days. Not in a Yeonjun way. More like... a wolf staring at something it can’t figure out.”
Beomgyu didn’t laugh. He kicked a rock forward with the toe of his shoe.
“He’s weird. Too perfect. Like... I don't know, an actor stuck in his role. You ever get that feeling, like someone’s being polite, but underneath it, there’s something really twisted?”
Kai glanced at him now, slower this time. “You think he’s faking it?”
“I don’t know,” Beomgyu muttered. “But I don’t like the way he looked at me today, smirked even. Like he was challenging me without saying anything. You know how good my instinct is.”
“How good my instinct is, huh?” Kai mimicked, slightly grinning. “Maybe you’re just jealous.”
Beomgyu rolled his eyes, nudging him hard. “Not the point.”
“Fine fine, so, what is it?"
Beomgyu didn't know either. So he just sighed.
“Do you think Soobin knew I like Yeonjun? That he's trying to challenge me—like it’s some game to see who gets him first?”
“He knew? Yeah, that’s possible. Hell, the whole school probably knows but no one dares to say anything. As for challenging you… I’m not sure yet. I’ll need to watch him a little longer.”
They walked in silence again for a while, the cool evening air pressing down on them. Beomgyu couldn’t stop the war in his head. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Maybe he was just scared—scared that Yeonjun would end up with someone else.
What was he supposed to do? Start wearing glasses like Soobin? Bury himself in novels too? Try to become someone he’s not?
He had no idea.
Eventually, Kai nudged him gently, waking him up from his thoughts. “You know you’re welcome to crash at my place tonight if you don’t feel like going back, and being alone.”
Beomgyu nodded, grateful. His rented room always felt colder after days like this.
“Think you can help me find something out about Soobin?” Beomgyu then asked, glancing over at Kai as they turned into a quieter street. “Where was he from again? Pohang, right? Rich family?”
Kai raised an eyebrow. “You want me to do a background check? That’s not exactly easy, especially if he’s not originally from Bupyeong. And I’m not exactly a cop, not planning to be one either.”
“But it’s possible, right?”
“With time? Yeah, maybe. I can try. Might have to reach out to some of the other alliance crews. If he’s ever been in any fights or major events involving gangs or school disciplinary record, someone would know something.”
Beomgyu let out a long breath through his nose, eyes narrowing at the sidewalk ahead.
Truth be told, this wasn’t just about instinct. He hated himself a little for it, knowing maybe part of it was jealousy.
He hated how easily Soobin made Yeonjun laugh—how effortlessly he earned that dumb, wide smile that Beomgyu had only ever seen from afar. A smile he always figured was reserved for Yeonjun’s inner circle, the kind of people Beomgyu never got to be.
And still, underneath all that, Beomgyu couldn’t shake off that heavy gut feeling. Something about Soobin didn’t sit right. Something about him felt... rehearsed. Hollow, like a puppet mimicking affection with perfect precision.
He just wanted to be sure. Wanted to protect Yeonjun, even if it meant digging through dirt that might not exist.
Even if it meant Yeonjun would never look his way.
𖦹
It had been a week.
A week since Yeonjun started having lunch with Soobin like it was the most normal thing in the world. A week since he started smiling at someone else the way he used to glance over at some other unimportant boys between classes that Beomgyu didn't care about, knowing it wasn't exactly a real relationship.
Also a week of Beomgyu trying not to care.
But whatever.
He still cared.
So he decided he’d try talking one more time. With Yeonjun. Just once. Just… properly.
He scribbled a note during break and stuffed it into Yeonjun’s shoe locker before he could regret. "Are you free after school? Meet me at your hideout spot. The old gym roof. I want to talk. Come, please."
He didn’t even sign it. And waited there, earlier.
The air was cooler than usual as the sun dipped low, casting orange across the back of the old gym. Beomgyu sat on the edge of the roof above the old gymnasium, kicking his legs, nervously fiddling with the hem of his shirt, trying not to look at the horizon every three seconds.
He kept glancing down the ladder. Still no sign of Yeonjun anywhere.
He glanced over his watch, 5:53 P.M, he had waited for an hour by now, and he refused to believe he was ditched or ignored.
Until he heard the creek from the ladder, and his heart stopped for a second.
Then, he saw the familiar mop of wavy hair.
“...You're not Yeonjun,” Beomgyu muttered the moment Wooyoung’s head popped through the door, messy hair and that stupid grin.
“Well, hello to you too, sunshine.” Wooyoung stepped out, stretching like it was his rooftop.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Yeonjun couldn’t come,” Wooyoung shrugged, hands in his pockets. “Said he was busy. So, naturally, he sent his most charming, lovable friend to check on you.”
Beomgyu frowned. “Charming my ass.”
Wooyoung tilted his head. “Y’know… you’re kinda cute when you’re mad.”
Beomgyu’s face stayed cold.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m serious! If Yeonjun doesn’t want you, can I have you instead? Please…? Maybe the universe is telling you something—maybe it's saying to give someone else a chance?”
Beomgyu blinked slowly. “What the fuck?”
“I mean, it’s a waste! You look like you walked out of one of those Japanese teen drama manga, with all that mysterious brooding. You're pretty, a little moody too, my type.”
“You’re seriously trying to flirt with me right now?”
Wooyoung put a hand on his chest. “Can you blame me? You’ve got the whole tragic bad boy thing going on. You even wrote a secret cute note for Yeonjun to meet up here.”
Beomgyu didn’t answer.
“Besides, if Yeonjun is still being a coward, I wouldn't mind hitting anytime!”
Huh?
“What do you mean by Yeonjun being a coward?” Beomgyu narrowed his eyes.
“Whoops!” Wooyoung covered his mouth. “I mean generally, it didn't mean anything!”
But Beomgyu didn't buy it.
Wooyoung stepped a little closer, however, all grins and glitter in his eyes. “Come on, one date. I’ll buy you ramyeon, patch up your bruises, let you cry on my shoulder after fights, wouldn't it be nice? I wouldn't even care if you're a gang leader, totally my type, I like them a little rough—”
Before he could finish that stupid sentence, Beomgyu’s foot landed straight against his shin, making him yelp and stumble backwards with a dramatic thud.
“OW—what the hell?! That was a love confession, you psycho!” Wooyung screamed dramatically, clutching his legs. “I’m too young to die! Help me! I want to have children!”
“You talk too much, stop being annoying”
Beomgyu scoffed, already stomping away, his mood completely ruined. Behind him, Wooyoung lay sprawled on the cracked rooftop, groaning like he’d just been hit by a truck.
“You’re gonna regret this when you realize how good I look in leather jackets!” Wooyoung yelled after him, voice cracking as he sat up. “I’m serious though! Think about it!”
Beomgyu didn’t look back.
𖦹
It was late by the time Beomgyu finished cleaning around the restaurant.
He wiped the last table and folded it up, dragging the cloth half-heartedly before tossing it onto the counter. He exhaled, feeling the sweat on his temple as he checked his arm—some band aids were peeling off. He needed to change them. Maybe grab a new pack on the way home. Or ask the ahjussi and ahjumma if they had any left in their medicine drawer.
He was always grateful they let him work here. The pay wasn’t much, but it was enough. Just enough to pay rent, get food, and keep going. Restaurant work felt familiar anyway. His mom owned one back in Daegu. It was in his blood, maybe.
He stepped out with two trash bags to end his whole shift for tonight, heading for the bins near the back alley.
But he stopped.
Right by the intersection, under the streetlight that blinked now and then like it couldn’t decide if it wanted to stay on—
There they were.
Yeonjun and Soobin, walking together. Slowly. Casually. Like they had nowhere else to be. Soobin said something and laughed. Yeonjun responded, smiling so wide his eyes crinkled up, and they both looked like they belonged in one of those romance movie posters you see outside theaters.
Beomgyu didn’t even notice he was holding his breath. “Fucking hell…”
They were sharing snacks—maybe tteokbokki or fish cake skewers. Something simple, but it looked too perfect. The kind of moment you’d catch in a movie.
Yeonjun looked good. Tucked-in brown shirt, baggy jeans. That soft, clean look that made people turn their heads without meaning to. Ugly shoes though. And Soobin? Well. He always looked like a model. The kind that didn’t even need to try.
Beomgyu glanced down at himself. Old shorts. Slightly dirty white shirt. Sandals falling apart. His hair tied up messily, forehead glistening with sweat. His shirt clung to his back from the heat of the kitchen.
Yeah.
No wonder Yeonjun didn’t show up.
He had a date tonight.
Beomgyu didn’t say anything. Just stood there for a second too long, before turning down the nearest street without looking back.
Damn it.
Behind him, Yeonjun slowed down a little, lips pressing together. Guilty. Soobin watched Beomgyu disappear with a curious look on his face, and a hint of satisfaction that no one noticed.
“That was Choi Beomgyu, right? From my class? What did people call him again… Mad Dog?”
Yeonjun hesitated. “...Yeah.”
Soobin hummed, still looking ahead. “You remember those rumors I told you I heard?” He chewed on his food for a while, before speaking up again. “Some of them were about him too.”
Yeonjun turned slightly, clearly piqued. “Oh? What kind of rumors?”
“That he likes you,” Soobin said casually, wiping his lips then. “Heard he confessed to you every now and then. Giving you this and that. And you rejected him all the time ‘cause he’s just some gang kid with no future.”
Yeonjun frowned a little.
The comment—it rubbed him the wrong way. He didn’t really know why. He didn't care, after all, about Beomgyu.
Okay, sure, sometimes he wondered what the hell Beomgyu was doing—why he was always getting into fights, always showing up with new bruises, why he looked so tired all the time. But… still.
To say he had no future?
That didn’t sound right.
“Hey, I never said that,” Yeonjun muttered, clearly disturbed by that comment, but he didn't show it. Instead, he defended himself, not wanting his angel to know anything. “Anyway, it’s just some dumb rumor okay, doesn’t mean anything. No one likes anyone. And—he’s got a boyfriend, remember? So that rumor is not true.”
“Oh?” Soobin raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he tapped his finger on it. “Huh. Must’ve gotten the wrong idea, then!”
“Exactly, don't say something scary like that, he's not into me. And I’m, not into him.”
There was a small pause between them.
Then Soobin chuckled. “Though… I don’t know. The way he looked at you earlier? Didn’t really look like love, if the rumors were true. Maybe he’s just bored. Or maybe he’s into you for your body or something.”
Yeonjun let out a weak laugh, but it didn’t sound genuine.
“Nah,” he said quietly. “BG’s never been like that. He’s never… crossed the line. Not even once.”
He didn’t say it out loud, but the thought came anyway.
Beomgyu had been a lot of things. Rough. Loud. Sometimes annoying.
But never anything insincere.
He still remembered the shoes. Or any other things, for that matter. The food he got for him (Beomgyu woke up early to cook it), that damn childish bracelet he bought which he shouldn't have turned down (Beomgyu bought a bracelet kit and stayed up all night making it). The look in Beomgyu’s eyes earlier. Pained. Like he actually cared.
Truly, the comment from Soobin shouldn’t bother him. It wasn't even aimed towards him, but Beomgyu.
But it did.
Still, he waved it off with a shake of his head, smiling as he threw away the now empty cup of food. “Let’s just drop it, yeah, don’t feel like talking about him anyway.”
Soobin nodded, then nudged his arm, oblivious and unaware of Yeonjun's indifferent feeling now. “Alright. So… you're gonna pick me up tomorrow and go to school together?”
Yeonjun smiled again, this time a little more genuine. “Yeah. With my bicycle. Thought we could take the long way—pass the paddy fields.”
“Oh? Look at you planning detours.” Soobin grinned. “I’ll trust your taste then. Deal!”
Beomgyu, from afar, hidden in the alleyway, watched as Soobin wrapped his arms around Yeonjun's. Something about it felt like it was on purpose, made to be seen by Beomgyu.
Choi Soobin. He will find out about him.