like when we first met, i hate you and i love you [beomgyu]
my days with you [beomgyu]
not about angels [beomgyu]
requests are open
‧ rules:
+ for now i only write for tomorrow by together and xdinary heroes
+please make your request as detailed as possible, this will help me understand what you have in mind.
+ i think i can write smut or suggestive (i'm a little shy), but nothing extreme, toxic, or overly explicit. if there's a request i'm not comfortable with, i just won't write it.
+ i love interactions, so please feel free to interact with me no problem, your replies make me feel appreciated and i am totally open to making friends.
hii i just read my days with you and i love it so much!! its so adorable <3 im also inlove with your writing and how beomgyu said "you can take as much from me as you want, i dont know how much i have, only that i was empty until you came" i was like ooo what a good fucking line, it must be take my half inspired! but i checked the date and the fic was from 2024! you beat gyu to it!! haha i loved how you guys shared the same thought 🤍
cant wait to read more from you seriously! i enjoy your writing style so much. hope u have a great day!
hi!! I’m so glad you liked it, thank you so so much for sharing your thoughts, you’re so sweet. I hadn’t made the connection between that line and Take my half, what a crazy coincidence haha, it definitely could have been the background song while I was writing.
I haven’t been very active with writing lately, but comments like yours always motivate me<333 I hope you find more things you enjoy, and have a great weekend!
después de estar enamorado de tu mejor amigo en silencio durante meses, tienes una confesión de sentimientos tonta, muy tonta.
𐔌 romance/confort/drama - wc: 4.4k
nota de dulcier: este es un trabajo viejo y poco trabajado, aún así, quería compartir algo en español. he estado pensando en publicar las versiones en español del resto de mis escritos, pero aún no lo dicido debido a que desconozco qué tan viva esté actualmente la audiencia en español jksj english version here
Te gustaba Beomgyu. Te gustaba por la forma en la que sus ojos brillaban cuando tarareaba su canción favorita mientras fregaba los platos, cuando se dejaba caer a la cama después de una interminable lista de quejas sobre lo cansado que estaba, o cuando hablaba con una emoción desbordante sobre las cosas que le gustaban. Te gustaba porque en él encontrabas un tipo de gentileza que no podías encontrar en el resto del mundo, una que no creías posible recibir de un hombre. Y lo sorprendente es que él era un hombre, pero cuando estabas con él, era como si el mundo fuera visto a través de los ojos de un niño. Ojos que veían la felicidad y no la retorcían, sino que la hacían más grande, la repartían y la extendían hasta que esos ojos —marrones y profundos y encantadoramente hermosos— era lo último que quedaban.
Tal vez estabas enamorada de uno de tus amigos más cercanos. O tal vez estabas, simple y sencillamente, en el lugar correcto.
Sin embargo, aquel pensamiento fue aún más difícil de resolver cuando llegaste a la casa de tus padres ese domingo por la tarde tras tachar cada uno de los elementos de la lista de compras de tu madre. Solo te habías ausentado durante una hora para hacer las compras, pero fue como si regresaras por primera vez a casa después de esos días fuera de la ciudad que habías dejado atrás. Ni siquiera supiste cuándo dejaste las bolsas de la despensa frente a la puerta de tu casa, ni cuándo te giraste de nuevo hacia el jardín para ver aquella sonrisa que resplandecía con arrugas en las mejillas, ni mucho menos de cuándo tu voz, temblorosa y demasiado ansiosa para tu gusto, pronunció un vergonzoso “hola”.
Beomgyu, que hasta ese momento se estaba riendo de una broma ridícula que compartió con tu padre, se giró para verte con esa tranquilidad que solo podías encontrar en una playa en pleno atardecer, cuando la luna hacía lo suyo y la marea bajaba hasta a convertirse en profundos y sentimentales suspiros. El chico pareció ver algo que no pudiste definir en tu rostro, porque su sonrisa se encogió hasta volverse una línea suave y casi tímida.
No apartaste la mirada de su rostro mientras él se acercaba con sus manos escondidas detrás de la espalda y se detenía frente a ti. A pesar de la ruidosa voz de tu padre, de las risas traviesas entre tus hermanos pequeños y de tu madre regañando al perro para que no le arrebatara la carne lista para asar, lo único en lo que te hallaste prestando atención fue en los desconcertantes y acelerados latidos de tu corazón.
—¡H-hola! —repetiste, no con menos torpeza—. ¿Qué es esto? ¿Viajo unas semanas y de pronto mi familia ya te adoptó?
Beomgyu conservó su sonrisa tímida y, por un momento, se apoyó contra una de las tablas de madera del pórtico. Su camisa de cuadros, que se había desanudado un poco en su cintura, ondeaba ligeramente con el suave viento veraniego.
—Creo que es tu padre quien ha decidido adoptarme. Dice que soy la representación exacta de su juventud: encantador, talentoso y escandalosamente bello.
—Creo que le ha estado diciendo eso a cada persona joven que conoce.
—¡Oh! —exclamó con exagerada sorpresa—, ¿dices que no debería de creerle?
No supiste cuando habías empezado a sonreír, pero seguro que te dolerían las mejillas si no relajabas los músculos de tu cara pronto.
—No, solo digo que mi padre habla demasiado.
—Un hombre sincero y franco, me gusta.
—Sí, tan sincero como político en un debate electoral.
Beomgyu rio y miró hacia el jardín, donde tu padre seguía sentado en una silla plegable con el ceño fruncido, intentando encender el asador de leña. Con una voz comedida y educada que no sabías que podía tener y que casi te hizo querer burlarte de él, Beomgyú le ofreció ayuda; pero cuando tu padre levantó la mirada y —de la forma más milenial y sosa posible— le alzó el pulgar antes de gritar un amistoso “lo tengo todo controlado, hijo”, por alguna razón, tonta, irracional y probablemente infantil, te sonrojaste.
¿Cómo llegaron ahí? ¿Desde cuándo tu padre llamaba a Beomgyu “hijo”? ¿Y desde cuándo tu familia invitaba con toda normalidad a uno de tus amigos a formar parte del domingo de hamburguesa? ¿Esa era tu madre colocando un plato más a la mesa? ¿Eso es lo que hizo Beomgyu mientras no estabas, comerse tu hamburguesa en tu lugar?
Beomgyu pareció leer muy bien los pensamientos plasmados en tu expresión, porque río suavemente y alzó un hombro con una timidez poco genuina. Seguro que así los habías cautivado a todos.
Pequeña arpía.
Y, sin embargo, verlo tan vibrante y jovial como cuando te fuiste, fue como una curita que aligeró la carga de estrés que habías estado soportando los últimos días. Tras llegar a la ciudad el pasado jueves por la noche, buscarlo fue lo primero que se te ocurrió hacer, pero el muy idiota se había enfermado del estómago tras tomar leche en mal estado y te había suplicado que no lo visitaras hasta que se le pasara la diarrea. No te había enviado ningún mensaje de texto desde la noche anterior y tú empezabas a creer que se le había caído el celular al retrete en uno de sus ataques diarreicos, pero lo que no esperabas era encontrarlo en tu casa en tu regreso de hacer las compras, tampoco esperaste sentir de la forma en la que te sentías: nerviosa, con palabras pensadas pero nunca dichas, con deseos intensificados pero más aterradores que nunca.
—Entonces… ¿Cómo estuvo ese congreso que te mantuvo muerta de hambre durante casi un mes?
Levantaste la mirada cuando tu hermano menor pasó corriendo por tu lado, con el perro no muy lejos detrás de él. Antes de llegar a las cortas escaleras que conducían hacia el interior de la casa, Beomgyu tomó a tu hermano en sus brazos y lo hizo girar en el aire antes de bajarlo y alentarlo a regresar al sitio donde estaban tus padres. Tu hermano se alejó corriendo con el perro detrás.
Entornaste los ojos.
—Fue un mes de dolor físico —respondiste—. No sabía cómo sería una convención internacional de contadores hasta que realmente asistí a una. Pensaba que serían las conferencias soporíferas que tuvimos en la escuela y la universidad, pero al parecer, las personas de negocios se divierten con los impuestos y las declaraciones.”
Beomgyu resopló divertido y deslizó las manos en los bolsillos de sus pantalones mientras giraba para apoyarse contra la barandilla, mirándote a los ojos con esa sonrisa bonita suya.
—Te extrañé.
—¿Ah, sí? —Alzaste una ceja. A pesar de mantener la calma, no fue difícil notar la forma en la que un leve rubor se extendió por tus mejillas.
No era que hubieras pasado un tiempo prolongado lejos de él, habían estado separados incluso meses en otras ocasiones, pero había algo diferente en sus palabras esta vez; te hacían preguntarte si realmente te había extrañado o si te extrañaba de la forma en la que tú lo sentiste.
—¿Por eso te has colado a mi casa como usurpador infiltrado?
—Oh, es tan obvio, ¿no? Me he ido apoderando de los miembros de tu familia uno por uno —dijo con seriedad fingida. Pero entonces, la sonrisa traviesa reapareció en su rostro, y se acercó un paso—. ¿Qué te pasa? ¿No vas a confesar que me has extrañado? ¿Qué te retorciste en agonía sin mi presencia?
—Me has ido enviando mensajes de texto de forma prácticamente diaria durante las últimas tres semanas, Beomgyu. No sé cómo podría haberte extrañado.
Sus labios se torcieron en un gesto de indignación mientras fruncía el ceño. Notaste que una de sus manos estaba en la barandilla a centímetros de la tuya.
—Eso es muy cruel. Estaba realmente miserable.
—Cierto, ¿cómo está tu diarrea?
—Uhmm… —Frunció los labios y dejó que el silencio se extendiera durante unos segundos. Con desinterés forzado, agregó—: Soy un chico luchador, ¿sabes? Una alimentación basada en galletas de soda y electrolitos orales y puff, como nuevo. ¿Por qué? ¿Vas a burlarte de mí? Porque déjame decirte que no me harás sufrir tanto como Yeonjun y Soobin ya lo hicieron.
—Las burlas sobre diarrea no son particularmente mi fuerte.
Beomgyu soltó un jadeo y puso su mano derecha sobre su corazón, con los ojos dramáticamente abiertos.
—¿Es esa empatía legítima? ¿Es posible que estés volviendo un poco más suave?
Resoplaste, sacudiendo la cabeza. No recordabas cuando fue el último verano que fue así: conversaciones suaves, risas y silencio que, de alguna forma, parecía cómodo incluso cuando la tensión se acumulaba entre ustedes. Habías olvidado la facilidad que siempre había habido entre ustedes dos. Solías odiar esos meses de calor excesivo y días sin propósito, pero desde que conociste a Beomgyu, mendigabas cualquier oportunidad para reír junto a él, sin importar la estación.
—No me voy a reír,” dijiste al fin, bajando la mirada a tus manos. Estabas a punto de decir algo más, pero las palabras murieron en tu boca cuando él se acercó aún más, deslizando su mano sobre la tuya en la barandilla.
Casi te ahogaste con tu propia saliva. Dios, ¿por qué te pusiste tan nerviosa? ¿Hace solo unos segundos no estaban hablando sobre la diarrea?
No dijiste nada, y él tampoco lo hizo, pero miraste su expresión cautelosa y ansiosa antes de que bajaras de nuevo la vista a sus manos unidas: la tuya aplanada contra la madera clara, cubierta por sus dedos esbeltos y las suaves y delicadas almohadillas de sus pulgares, casi siempre ásperas y callosas por el uso constante de su guitarra. Su mano era cálida, y sentiste cómo tu corazón se agitaba mientras él pasaba su pulgar por encima de los nudillos de tu mano. Fue un gesto suave, casual, tal vez incluso inocente, pero se sintió como un millón de fuegos artificiales sobre la piel de tu mano.
No podrías explicar el origen de tus siguientes palabras.
—Yo… estuve pensando en ti mientras estuve fuera.
Él no respondió, simplemente se volvió a mirarte, lo cual bastó para hacer que tu corazón latiera a un ritmo aún más desordenado. Su sonrisa aún estaba presente, pero había cambiado, se volvió más suave; sentiste que era lo único a lo que podías aferrarte para no soltar el cúmulo de palabras que se había empezado a acumular en la punta de tu lengua.
—Es estúpido, ¿verdad? —agregaste, intentando no dejarte llevar por las mariposas que aletearon en tu estómago cuando sus dedos rozaron aún más los tuyos, como animándote a hablar, a vomitar las palabras antes de que te inflaran el estómago y te volvieras una bola inútil de anhelo y… Dios, ¿no eran esos labios tan bonitos?
—Te extrañé. Te he extrañado toda la semana.
—¿Todo el mes? —Él corrigió y tú solo pusiste tus ojos en blanco mientras inclinabas la cabeza en dirección al suelo y pateabas una piedra invisible.
—Creo que te extraño todos los días desde que te conocí.
Aunque viste de reojo que su sonrisa se volvió más grande, él no respondió de inmediato y aquello hizo crecer el nudo de ansiedad que se retorcía en tu pecho. Sin embargo, la ola de miedo se disipó tan pronto como llegó. Su pulgar estaba justo sobre tu pulso, probablemente percibiendo la forma en que se había acelerado por él. El contacto era tierno, nada más que la suave presión de su yema contra tu piel, pero estabas tan hipnotizada con el suave gesto, que apenas te diste cuenta cuando él se acercó un paso más y te envolvió con la suave esencia de su colonia. Se sentía como un momento secreto la forma en la que, incluso con toda tu familia reunida alrededor del asador preparando la cena, y ustedes dos, separados del ruido, a solo unos metros, no parecían registrar nada más que la presencia del otro.
—Háblame más de eso. —Su voz fue más baja, más suave, te causó escalofríos en la espalda.
—¿Quieres que te hable de cómo te extrañé?
Él se mordió el labio mientras te lanzaba una sonrisa traviesa, tal vez muy tonta y… No, definitivamente no era la sonrisa de alguien que estaba a punto de tomar tu corazón y salir corriendo, ¿verdad? Porque, diablos, se sintió así.
Te obligaste a apartar la mirada de sus labios. Nada podía ponerte más tonta. Nada podía hacerte alucinar más. Debías evitarlos, evitar una locura. Pero aquello fue en vano, un iluso intento de escapar de las trampas de tu corazón porque, justo cuando lo miraste sus ojos, él dejó caer la mirada hacia tu boca por un momento. Dio otro paso. Ahora estaba lo suficientemente cerca como para hacer que tu espalda chocara contra la barandilla, su mano estaba completamente apretada sobre la tuya y sus ojos perdidos en tus labios te rogaban que hablaras e hicieras una tontería.
Y eso hiciste.
—Y-yo…
—T-tu… —te instó a hablar, imitando tu tartamudeo.
—Yo puedo hablarte de cómo pienso en ti cuando veo algo gracioso. O algo espantosamente bonito. Como esos amaneceres rosados que apenas vemos cuando no somos perezosos y nos quedamos en la cama hasta el mediodía. O dos gatos acurrucados en la acera. No es que quiera acurrucarme contigo, claro… ¡Aunque tampoco es que no quiera! Bueno, el p-punto es que los gatos son lindos. Como tú.
Con una mueca, hiciste una pausa para intentar asimilar la vergüenza y luego obligarte a pretender que no habías dicho aquello. Pero fuiste fuerte y no te permitiste detenerte, porque ya habías metido la pata y sabías que si no decías aquellas palabras en ese preciso momento, no podrías decirlas nunca.
—Hoy me sorprendió verte con mi padre, riendo y bromeando cuando mi padre no ríe con ningún chico que se relacione conmigo. Entonces me sorprendió aún más el hecho de que aquello se sintiera tan íntimo, tan familiar, tan cerca. No sé si fue como una de esas ecuaciones que a primera vista sé que me harán perder la cabeza y querer renunciar a vivir al mínimo intento de resolverla, o una de esas fórmulas que, incluso sin resolver, tienen pinta de ser una de la más bella del mundo matemático. Sí, yo… Acabo de hacer una metáfora con la palabra “bella” y “matemático” en la misma sentencia. Bien, bien, deja de reírte. Es que… Tú riendo con mi padre, que desastre. Que desastre darme cuenta de que le agradas a cada aspecto de mi vida y que desastre que cada aspecto de mi vida se aferre a ti con tantas ganas. Creo que por eso te extraño aun cuando estamos cerca. No quiero que haya ningún espacio entre nosotros.
Ahí estaba, lo dijiste. Listo. Ahora podrías respirar. Ahora tu corazón debería relajarse un poco, tomar un banquito y esperar el arcoíris o la desgracia. Podría ir juntando un montón de cinta y curitas, o desnudarse y bailar pole dance alrededor de una arteria. Conseguirse una caja funeraria o empezar a creerse inmortal. Y todo dependía del chico que estaba frente a ti.
La mirada de Beomgyu era suave, tan suave y melosa como los escenarios que empezó a generar en automático tu cabeza al ver la mezcla de sorpresa y ternura que recorrió su expresión cuando terminaste de hablar. Miró hacia sus manos apretadas contra las tuyas y exhaló una risa que salió un poco temblorosa, luego regresó a tu mirada y se quedó allí, estudiándote en silencio.
—Quiero responderte —susurró—, pero quiero asegurarme de encontrar las palabras adecuadas.
Idiota.
Hiciste un enorme esfuerzo por mantener una expresión serena en tu rostro, como si tu mundo no se estuviera balanceando sobre un hilo. Fue entonces cuando él hizo algo que nunca habías visto antes: tragó saliva, su mirada se deslizó hacia abajo para fijarse en tus labios por un momento antes de volver hacia tus ojos y volvió a tragar saliva.
—Espera un momento —dijo con voz ronca. Sin previo aviso, se dio vuelta y se alejó, dejándote allí, parada contra la barandilla, mientras luchabas por recuperar el aliento.
¿Qué demonios había sido eso? Observaste cómo caminaba hacia la mesa del jardín, agarraba un refresco y luego se deslizaba de vuelta a tu lado para apoyarse contra la barandilla a tu lado. Se aclaró la garganta, tomó un sorbo, y entonces te miró de nuevo.
—Estás jodiéndome, ¿verdad? —Había una mezcla de emociones en tu voz, diversión, vergüenza, inseguridad, indignación… Las ganas de arrebatarle la lata de refresco y abollarle con ella la cabeza.
Beomgyu parpadeó, aparentemente sorprendido por tu declaración, luego se rio, con la boca torcida en una sonrisa que se sentía como un premio.
—¿Qué? —preguntó, con los ojos bailando por toda tu cara. Apretaste la boca y él se rio aún más fuerte—. No puedo creer lo que acabas de decirme.
—Que imbécil —murmuraste, dando un empujón a su costado.
Él se rio de nuevo, pero sus brazos salieron disparados para sostenerte justo cuando tu empuje lo hizo perder el equilibrio por un momento. Sus manos se envolvieron alrededor de tus brazos y se enderezó, pero no te soltó ni borró esa sonrisa tonta de su cara. Luchaste por mantener el gesto de molestia, aunque no funcionó bien cuando te agarró y te atrajo hacia él.
“Yo… En realidad, estoy bastante nervioso”.
Ahora estaban cerca de nuevo, lo suficientemente cerca como para sentir el calor que desprendía. Su mirada había bajado hacia tu boca y cuando volvió hacia arriba para encontrarse con tus ojos, se estaba mordiendo el labio. Su mirada era clara, intensa, como si estuviera luchando por encontrar las palabras adecuadas para decir lo que fuera que estuviera pensando. Tras soltar un suspiro cargado de frustración, soltó tus brazos para apoyarse contra la barandilla, manteniendo la distancia entre ambos tan corta que tu hombro quedó atrapado entre su brazo derecho y su costado.
—Quiero besarte, pero tu papá está justo atrás y temo que me deje sin hamburguesa —bromeó, pero su risa salió demasiado rápido, y te diste cuenta de que realmente estaba nervioso. Su mirada se posó en tu boca de nuevo y la mantuvo ahí por lo que pareció una eternidad antes de que él soltara una fuerte exhalación y cerrara los ojos.
Tú todavía estabas procesando el hecho de que sus palabras “quiero besarte” acababan de salir de su boca.
—Estoy seguro de que puedes vivir sin una hamburguesa, Beomgyu.
Su mirada volvió a tu boca, y tu corazón se saltó un latido cuando volvió a acercarse. Ahora estaban tan cerca que podías sentir la caricia de su aliento contra tus labios, su mano rozando tentativamente tu cintura. Estabas a punto de decirle que dejara de hacerse el tonto y te besara de una buena vez, cuando de pronto la voz de tu padre retumbó por todo el patio.
—Eh, niños, la cena está casi lista.
El sonido de su voz te dio un sobresalto y te sorprendió lo rápido que Beomgyu se apartó, dando varios pasos hacia atrás y alejándose de ti como si de una plagas te trataras. Su cara estaba roja y estaba manteniendo cuidadosamente los brazos a sus lados cuando tu padre levantó la mirada y los miró a los dos.
—¿Todo bien aquí? Se estaban viendo muy… acaramelados —bromeó tu padre, con los ojos entrecerrados mientras observaba ambos rostros enrojecidos y a Beomgyu intentando desesperadamente actuar con normalidad.
—Eh- —Beomgyu abrió la boca para responder, pero no salió nada. Abrió y cerró la boca, como si estuviera luchando por dar con una excusa. Tu padre, que ahora estaba sonriendo ampliamente, miró de Beomgyu a ti y de vuelta a Beomgyu, todavía luchando—. Señor, estoy enamorado de su hija”.
Su declaración, no planificada, salió apresurada. Giraste el rostro hacia él, con la boca abierta. Él también se sorprendió por sus propias palabras, pues sus ojos se abrieron aún más y te miraron con incredulidad. Santo dios…
Tu padre había soltado la tapa de la parrilla, tu madre había dejado de preparar la ensalada y tus hermanos dejaron de torturar al perro para mirarlos a ti y a Beomgyu. Se hizo silencio; nadie se movía ni decía nada. Por un momento, solo se escuchaba el zumbido de la parrilla y el susurro de una brisa ocasional. Estabas segura de que Beomgyu podía oír cómo tu corazón latía en tu pecho, y estuviste segura de que pudiste escucharlo tragar saliva. Estaba tan rojo, tan impactado, que pensaste que se desmayaría ahí mismo; o que primero saldría corriendo y luego se desmayaría frente a tu casa.
—Vaya. —Después de un largo silencio, tu padre asintió y agregó—: Estoy seguro de que la cena será muy larga.
Te preguntaste si la seriedad en su tono era genuina.
Beomgyu se estremeció como una vieja y cansada hoja de roble. Tu madre sacudió la cabeza, luchando por contener una sonrisa que amenazaba con asomarse en sus labios. Tus hermanos, al igual que tú, simplemente lo miraban, con los ojos bien abiertos.
Tu padre rompió el segundo silencio, aclarándose la garganta y dándole un golpecito a la tapa de la parrilla.
—Creo que las burgers están listas.
Antes de que pudieras conseguir la estabilidad para moverte y caminar hacia tu familia, la mano de Beomgyu se enroscó en tu brazo, y sus ojos, en ese momento grandes y ridículamente expresivos, te gritaron aquellas palabras que habías estado esperando hace un momento.
—Escucha.
—¿Si?”
—Yo… Se me ha escapado.
—Lo sé. —Dios. No. No sabías nada. No estabas pensando con claridad. Tu corazón se había fugado a una fiesta para festejar y tu cerebro lo había seguido detrás.
—A tu padre le caigo bien, mira, no parece que vaya a dejarme sin hamburguesa.
—Beomgyu, yo…
—Escucha —repitió y le hubieras dicho que bajara la voz si no lo hubieras visto tan decidido—. Si tu padre me exilia de tu casa y no sobrevivo a la angustia para contarlo, quiero que sepas que también he estado pensando en ti todo este tiempo, todos los días, a todas horas; especialmente en las mañanas, por eso ahora todos los días empiezan bien, y son todos felices, y bonitos, y cursis, y todo eso. Eres tan… tan jodidamente bonita y distractora, que por eso me viste con la camiseta al revés el otro día, también la mancha de pasta en mi suéter; ah, y los calcetines de diferente color. Yo no sabía que… esto, el… ya sabes, sí, el… amor, hiciera tan despistadas a las personas, pero ahora sé que si me atropella un triciclo a 3 millas por hora, será porque estaba pensando en ti.
Él aún estaba hablando, las palabras saltaban de él tan rápidamente como el chorro de agua que salía de la manguera que estaba usando uno de tus hermanos para lavar una salchicha que se le había caído al suelo. Tú solo te quedaste allí, con la boca abierta, luchando por absorber todas esas palabras y procesarlas.
—Y hace un momento estaba tan eufórico, tan borracho, tan idiota por lo que me dijiste, que no puedo creer que casi me haya quedado sin decirte esto, porque he estado queriendo decírtelo desde siempre. No sé si fueron esas preciosas mejillas que quiero acunar, y jalar, y pellizcar, y morder todo el tiempo, o si fue la forma en la que tus pestañas me susurran relatos románticos y finales felices. Yo… yo no sé cómo lo hiciste, o con qué truco seductor lograste atraparme, pero puedes tomar de mí todo lo que quieras; no sé cuánto tengo, solo que estaba vacío hasta que tú llegaste. —Hizo una corta pausa y, entonces, sonrió y se encogió de hombros, un gesto tan adorable y nervioso y al mismo tiempo tan ridículo e hilarante—. Bien, eso… eso era todo.
No había aire en tus pulmones. Tu corazón, que había regresado borracho, corriendo y sin aliento, estaba palpitando tan rápido que no podías pensar en otra cosa además del sonido ensordecedor que emitía dentro de tu pecho. Pasó uno, dos, tres minutos y tú aún no habías recuperado la movilidad. Él inhaló bruscamente, volvió a encogerse de hombros e hizo un gesto hacia la mesa, donde el resto de tu familia ya se había instalado alrededor y estaban mirándolos, intentando fingir que no los estaban escuchando.
—Creo que todos esperan a que comamos.
Afortunadamente, él tomó la decisión por ti y te tomó de la mano para guiarte hacia la mesa. Aún tenías la vista fija en él y la boca abierta mientras te llevaba a tu asiento. Te sentaste y tus piernas temblorosas lo agradecieron, pero tu mano se sintió vacía, sudada y ansiosa cuando se desprendió de la suya.
Beomgyu se aclaró la garganta, se sonrojó al verte y murmuró:
—Volveré en un minuto, ¿vale?
Luego se alejó, murmurando algo acerca de ir al baño.
Tu padre te miró, como si esperara que dijeras algo, pero debió ver la torpeza y el aturdimiento en tu rostro porque después se giró hacia tu mamá.
—¿Le entendiste? Yo no lo entendí nana.
Tu madre se rio.
—Me encanta el chico, pero, dios, habla rápido.
—Quiere morderle las mejillas a Y/n — dijo uno de tus hermanos.
—Y pellizcarselas —añadió el otro.
Tu padre casi se atragantó con el refresco y tú casi te caíste de la silla.
—¿Qué? ¿De qué están hablando?
—¡Quiere morderle! —Tu hermano menor casi aulló entre risas—. Siempre habla de morderle las mejillas.
—Y pellizcarselas.
Cubriste tu rostro con tus manos y, entonces, sonreíste como tonta. Ni siquiera te importó la decena de preguntas que tu padre empezó a hacer y las burlas de tus hermanos, miraste la sonrisa llena de tranquilidad, esperanza, risas prometidas y sueños por cumplir, de tu madre, y te admitiste a misma que los días con Beomgyu siempre llevaría consigo una carga de felicidad capaz de restarle la importancia a todo lo demás.
Al mismo tiempo, apoyado contra la pared y mirando hacia la puerta cerrada del baño, estaba Beomgyu tratando de ordenar sus pensamientos. Cuando estaba frente a ti, las palabras salieron de él tan rápido que ni siquiera tuvo tiempo para darse cuenta de lo apresurada y torpe que fue su declaración. Se sentía expuesto, vulnerable, necesitaba un momento, o dos, o muchos para recuperarse, pero estaba innegablemente feliz.
Cerró los ojos y tomó una respiración muy profunda, pensó en ti y rio sin razón
—Dios mío… —murmuró—, estoy tan jodido.
𐔌 gracias por leer, te invito a leer el resto de mis escritos aquí
like when we first met, i hate you and i love you | beomgyu
beomgyu x fem!reader | playlist
୨୧ word count: 6.8k
୨୧ genre: angst, slight smut
୨୧ warning: non-explicit sex (or so i think), unspecified mental disorders and illnesses, depressive thoughts, thoughts of death, thoughts of loneliness, verbal incitement to suicide, very mild violence (not dating violence), unstable and unhealthy relationship, emotional dependency, mild family strife, and lots and lots of anguish. i don't suggest reading to anyone under 18, in fact don't read it if you are under 18.
୨୧ a/n: writing this was a challenge, but i consider it to be one of the writings i put more of myself into. thank you in advance to the people who are encouraged to read, and i hope i will not disappoint you. my native language is not english, so i apologize for any errors or inconsistencies in the text. have a nice weekend!
It was easy for Beomgyu to feel trapped in his own mind, to mourn the days that were more than just lost; he swore that he remembered nothing of them, and yet they could bring him down at any moment.
He had spent nearly a quarter of his life living in hospital rooms, moving from one to another, but in the end remaining within the same four plain, pale walls. No matter how many times the morning came to him, or how long the night before, they meant nothing when all he could see was a ceiling that could only be distorted in the recesses of his mind.
On this particular morning, the ceiling he saw as he lay sprawled on his bed was not the usual one. The sun's rays struck him from a different direction, the comfort of the mattress was not what his body was accustomed to, and the gentle puff of your breath beside him sent his mind wandering to alternatives that would save him from his growing need to flee your uncomfortable presence.
Your situation was not entirely unfamiliar to you. You knew him too well to have any idea what was going through his mind. The guilt overflowed from the brown of his eyes and hit you almost as hard as the reality of waking up in the same situation again. As you felt the warmth of his body next to yours, you wished bitterly that he was a stranger, that way you could let him go without claiming the warmth you lost the moment nakedness stopped meaning anything.
"Beomgyu," you called him with an uncertain tone. You slid your head from the pillow to his chest and let his heartbeat against your ear flood your mind with fear. You wished you could control it and make it keep beating even if it wasn't for you. "Promise you won't let this happen again."
Beomgyu closed his eyes. The yellow color of your walls was too cheerful and always made him feel depressed.
"I'll visit you tomorrow," was his answer. He gently put your head back on the pillow and started to get up.
A lump in your throat kept you silent as the raw fragility of his nakedness escaped the sheets. Even as he finished dressing and turned to look at you, you kept your attention on the place farthest from her eyes, afraid to get too close and discover that there were demons lurking there.
You and Beomgyu met in seventh grade, in the fall of 2016, under the rays of a bright sun and the orange hue of the leaves of an old oak tree. He had just transferred to the same school as you, but with his bright and enthusiastic personality, he had no shortage of friends, attention, or the furtive glances your curiosity encouraged you to give him. The first time you spoke to each other was after an embarrassing skateboard fall at school, but a handshake and a few awkward smiles sparked a bond that made you inseparable.
Aside from similar musical tastes and an interest in hiking, you didn't have much in common and were constantly having not-so-serious discussions about your differences. It was this contrast that made Beomgyu so eager to spend time with you. You were the respite from his usual routine, the color that was missing from the memories in his mind; the shade that waited to protect him from the sun, even though you were completely unaware of his difficulties. And things should have stayed there, in an innocent and uncomplicated friendship, but your childish need for romance and his urge for compression turned you from friends to lovers in a matter of months.
It was an inevitable fact from the beginning. He was a young man full of life carrying a heavy secret, and you were a naive young woman who didn't know what she was getting into when he opened the doors of his heart and you walked right in. By now, after six years of relationship, both of your hearts were worn out and the constant barriers that Beomgyu's unstable mental health put between you widened a distance that even monotony could not close. Beomgyu felt his soul heavy and dirty even when he was near you, the color of your life itself made him feel like a gray stain, and the shadow that once comforted him now burned him every time he tried to cling to its coolness.
"If I don't come tomorrow, don't go to the hospital until you've finished your homework, okay?"
The pain hidden in your silence made Beomgyu feel miserable and almost made him give in to your earlier request. Promising you was the right thing to do, but with him being meaningless, purposeless and pretending, how could he control himself not to come back here?
"You'll be all right, won't you?" he heard you say in a weak, languid voice.
He couldn't do anything but look at your grieving body under the sheets. He felt terrible, like a piece of trash. Every time he looked at you, he realized how disgusting he was for coming here and making you do all those things. He wanted to get down on his knees and beg for your forgiveness and at the same time berate you for letting him do it, for giving him your body even though it made you both feel dirty.
"I love you."
He wasn't sure if those words came out of his mouth and reached you, maybe he had buried them, forgetting their meaning and now they were just a broken compass. What day was it, could he go on or back? Was this the end of the story or had it just begun?
He hated himself so much.
A small smile that didn't reach your eyes spread across your face, you pressed the sheet to your body and propped your knees up on the bed so you could touch him. "Will you be okay?" you repeated as you traced the softness of his cheek with your fingers.
In a losing battle against despair, Beomgyu leaned his face into your touch and closed his eyes. He could not stop pretending that you were not the vessel into which he poured his misery. Every word out of his mouth seemed to weigh tons and lying was the only way to be with you more than just physically.
"I'm trying."
"How long will you keep running away?"
Hearing you, Beomgyu opened his eyes and you sighed as the familiar feeling of fear and uncertainty washed over you as you looked into them. There was a heartbreaking fragility and desperation in them, the same one that was present every time he touched you and made love to you; the same one that remained when his lips moved slightly upward, giving you a faint glimpse of the hidden dimple on his cheek.
"I'm not running away, the hospital doors are always open."
"Beomgyu." You tried to sound stern, but the quiver in your voice at the mention of his name was noticeable.
"Don't worry," he murmured, putting his hands over yours to pull them away from his face. "You have enough burden with school, so avoid distractions and study hard, okay?"
"Then don't come back here, please."
"I'm so sorry." Beomgyu, with his eyes closed and a lump in his throat, placed a hand on your head and pulled you close to him to plant a kiss on your forehead. "Get some sleep before you go to school."
A helpless expression appeared on your face as Beomgyu gently stroked your hair before pulling away. You closed your eyes and bit your lower lip to stifle any more pathetic pleas from your mouth, listening to his every footstep taking him away from you.
An impulse made Beomgyu turn on his heels and look at you again. For some reason, when he saw the way you hugged yourself and closed your eyes tightly, a deep urge to die washed over him from head to toe. He thought he owed it to you after all he had put you through, that there was no other way to give you a chance to escape him.
With a sigh, he took one last look at you and turned his feet toward the exit of your room, offering you the only comfort of his absence and his silence.
And as every time you watched him leave, you felt that he took a piece of your soul with him.
"You have to stop for a moment." You heard Hanna say as you both walked to your next class.
Walking across campus carried a weight that felt thicker in that moment. The weight of the morning was reflected in every step you took, shuffling your feet with the characteristic reluctance of one who has crossed an already too long college day.
Your path to your next class is a routine one, but you have never been able to get used to the distance between one classroom and the next. As you made your way along the path of worn bricks and open spaces where the bustle of students mixed with the sound of car engines, you felt overwhelmed and anxious to get home as soon as possible.
"Take a break." Despite the weight of her guitar on her back and the art portfolio occupying her hands, Hanna moved forward beside you with lighter steps, keeping a calm tone in her voice. "You're starting to rub off on me with your negativity, if you're too tired to study then rest."
You sighed and looked at the time on your watch, your class had started five minutes ago and you still had a long way to go to get to the building where the class was.
"You just don't get it, I rest every day even when I shouldn't," you said as you picked up your pace and Hanna mimicked you without any difficulty.
"Procrastination is not rest, you have to really relax."
If your breathing hadn't been so fast due to the intensity of the walk, you would have sighed. From your perspective, the situation was more complicated. Your current emotional state was beginning to affect your academic performance, and you hated it. As a student of letters and a lover of reading, you had never fallen so far behind in your academic reading and homework. You were used to reading for school as much as for yourself, but in the last few weeks, it was impossible to even hold a book without being a matter of time or will. You couldn't find the concentration to be yourself anywhere, and you feared that if you didn't overcome the block and regain some focus, you would have to drop out of your classes before you failed.
The thought of doing poorly in school made you feel absolutely worthless and nervous.
"I'll try to change, just... don't tell Beomgyu. He's been a little intense lately about the idea that I'm doing well here."
"Why, is he pressuring you or something?"
You paused and thought about all the times Beomgyu told you to stay focused in school, to study hard and get the best grades. It always seemed to you that he said it in a sad rather than a demanding way.
"No, but the situation has been difficult since his relapse," you replied.
Hanna looked at you for a moment with her big, thoughtful eyes before she let out a sigh. "Y/n, since I met you your relationship has been difficult."
"As long as he was under observation he would study online, but he became an irregular student. I guess that's thwarted his plans a lot and knowing my current situation will probably make him sensitive..." you tried to explain in a hurry, but stopped yourself when you couldn't ignore the little conviction in your words. Hanna gave you a reassuring smile and maneuvered her hands to free one of her arms for a few seconds and wrap it around yours. Both your legs slowed in unison and your body relaxed as you tilted your head and rested it on her shoulder. "Do you love him?"
Her question didn't surprise you, but you let a few minutes of silence pass between you before answering. For some reason, it was always difficult to talk about your relationship with Beomgyu; either they didn't understand it at all, or they understood it too much that you started to get the pity treatment.
"Of course."
"As a boyfriend? I mean, do you love him romantically, not as a person you've known since puberty?"
You turned your head away from Hanna's shoulder and brought your gaze to an imprecise point in front of you. It wasn't always up and down with Beomgyu, the stability you both once had and kept you both so alive was as tentative as the current instability, the love manifested was as strong as the doubts. What did it matter how you loved him now, there was no way to know that it would make a difference. The two of you were bound together by more than love, you had a history with too many loose ends to tie up, words whispered in silence that needed to be heard and answered, wounds deep enough to choose to bleed without trying to close them. Yes, the distance was frightening, but you weren't defeated, you could take what you needed from each other to survive, and that wasn't necessarily wrong.
Except for the fact that neither of you were alive.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," Hanna's voice broke through your thoughts and brought you back to reality. You let out a sigh, each question weighing you down with exhaustion. "I just... I want to understand you."
"Does he seem bad to you?" you replied without a hint of anger or concern.
"No, I like Beomgyu, I just... since I know him, he's kind of scary to me."
"No, gosh... He's... the nicest, most sensitive guy I've ever met."
"Not that type of scary."
When you heard these words, you felt frustrated. You didn't understand, even though you were also scared, you didn't understand what it was that Beomgyu reflected when he was with you that you couldn't see; because you were also absolutely terrified and couldn't identify the cause.
"He's fine, Hanna."
"And I'm so glad, but what about you?
You wished you could answer that question without your heart trembling with hesitation, but you were at a point where you doubted even your own words. What your mouth was saying and what Hanna could surely read in your eyes were contradictory things. If only you could have at least known which was true...
"I'm fine, okay?"
Your eyes glided over each word on the page with an almost exaggerated slowness, you had read the same paragraph over and over again in the last few minutes, your head was throbbing and fatigue irritated your eyes, but they were not the reason for your lack of concentration, at least not the main one.
Beomgyu sat a meter away from your desk, and you could feel his attention on every twitch of your facial muscles, on the movements of your hands, on the restless tapping of your foot on the floor. Those silences were the ones you hated the most to share with him, they made you insecure and any chance to approach him in a way that didn't make you feel suffocated slipped through your fingers.
You closed the book with a sigh and turned in your chair to look at him. The dark circles under his eyes hardly surprised you, they seemed as dull as the last times you saw him, barely a spark to show they were still screaming inside.
"Are you done?" he asked, slurring his words, but you were sure he already knew the answer.
"I'm tired," you replied instead as you stood up and sought a safer position on your bed, away from his eyes.
"Me too..."
You sighed as you saw him shrink back into the chair and averted your eyes to the floor. You couldn't shake the desire to be silent that came over you every time you saw him, even you couldn't describe the feeling, it made you sick, afraid to say the wrong thing, to push down the hopes he could barely hold in his hands. You were so afraid of breaking him. Despite your caution, you admitted that you were one of those guilty of endangering the stability of the thin rope he was walking, because as long as you were together, you would be the person Beomgyu held his hand and led him to discover the worst ways to sabotage him. It was as if he was testing your criminal mind and inviting you to watch from the front row as he murdered his own dreams and hopes for life.
You snapped out of your thoughts as you felt the weight of his body sink into the mattress. You turned your face in his direction, slightly dazed as you watched him kick off his shoes and curl up into a ball under your sheets. You sighed, not resisting the urge to bring a hand up to his face and caress his cheek, the way you knew he liked it.
"Lie down," he asked you in his little whisper.
There he was, like a ghost in the darkness, looking at you with a longing that made your body tremble. Though he was overflowing with an inexhaustible weariness, and his features bore the nostalgia of the stars that once shone, he was heartbreakingly beautiful. His smooth skin had the feel of a misunderstood canvas, his eyes, deep and enigmatic, carried unreadable pleas. It was sadness embodied in the skin of an ethereal being, unable to be torn away.
Your eyes closed unconsciously as Beomgyu leaned towards you after you obeyed his words, hiding his face in the curve between your neck and shoulder. The warmth of his body was always overwhelming, but his words had the power to slip between the trembling crevices of your heart and freeze its beating at will.
"I miss you..." he murmured against your skin, the roughness of his fingers clinging to your hips and his nose sliding along your collarbone, enveloping your skin with his breath and stealing layers of your scent. "I miss you so much."
How many times had he said those words to you? You wanted to scream at him that you were here, that you hadn't gone anywhere, that he had you, that nothing would tear you from his side, but even you weren't sure of that anymore.
"Me too, babe," you replied, lowering your face to his as his eyes sought yours. Damn it, you thought, it will happen again.
Within minutes, Beomgyu's lips left your neck and traced a path down your belly. Silently, you gave his hands permission to roam beneath your clothes, to trace the curves of your breasts and massage your soft flesh. More than one sigh was stolen from your mouth as his fingers slid to the pointy centre of your breasts, sending a stream of emotion through the gentle pressure. You couldn't explain the emotion that was marked by the trace of his touch on your skin, it wasn't lust, it wasn't need, it wasn't passion, but it was soft and comfortable, just enough to seem like love, just enough to reduce the agony and inappetence of longing to something subtle.
You whispered his name and cupped his face in your hands to draw him to you. Despite the suffocating emotion in the air, your bodies met in an anxious embrace, seeking solace and a cure for the raw hopelessness they could only express through gestures and silent caresses. The weight of his lips against your forehead made you close your eyes, almost begging him to never let go. Your lips ached with the need that filled them as the cold enveloped your body and replaced your clothes. But he did not kiss your lips, though they cried out in supplication, nor did you kiss his, knowing you would find the bitter taste of apology in them.
You also helped him get rid of his clothes. You imitated his lack of shame and suppressed any negative emotions that would make you believe that seeing and touching him as you did was wrong. How could it be so wrong when you had Beomgyu in your hands, gentle, vulnerable and intense? Trembling sounds escaped his throat and bound your hands, begging for more. His hands tightened around you, his fingers sliding down each side of your neck and his thumbs pressing against the softest, most vulnerable part of your shoulders. You leaned into his direction, letting his warm breath brush against your ear.
"My sweet Y/n..." Despite your skepticism that such a thing was possible, the sweetness in his voice made you believe that he really could feel the lost, that your body and voice could soothe his pain.
You kissed his hips with your fingertips, touching the roughness of his bones, holding him close as he wriggled against your touch. He responded just as sharply and slid one hand over your belly and the other between your legs where he pressed his fingers to your most sensitive spot, where pain and pleasure intertwined and sent a tightening sensation to your chest. "Beomgyu..."
"Shhh... it's okay." He took hold of your knees and, as if he had forgotten his own frailty, he exposed you and adjusted your position for him. Your eyes sought his, eager to hold on to something, to reassure you that it wasn't a stranger touching you; to remind you that all was well, that you were safe. You wanted to find security and familiarity away from this quiet, reserved, sleepy version of himself, you wanted a smile of encouragement, one that would light up the night but not set the moon on fire.
Beomgyu held your waist, preventing the involuntary, violent jerks of your pelvis. You swallowed saliva, dizzy and anticipating the raw invasion of his being inside you.
"What's wrong?" you asked as you watched him look at you motionlessly.
"You're not wet enough."
"It's okay, just do it."
Beomgyu's lips brushed your cheek, his voice a whisper in your ear as he leaned closer. "I just want you to relax," he said. "Let me take care of everything."
With a gentle tug around your waist, he sank you deeper into the bed, your head back against the softness of the pillow as he parted his body from yours to give him an open path for his hand to the shy, sensitive place between your legs. His fingers traced the inside of your thighs and slid down to the slit of your crotch, where he made circular motions with his fingertips for a few seconds before penetrating you.
You closed your eyes and gasped for air. It was as if he was lulling you and slapping you at the same time. Part of you wanted to take it with or without pain because you didn't think you could take it much longer; another part of you, the more disillusioned part of you, wished it was him who gave up and ran away. You tried, you really hoped it would work. For a while, sex had been the relief for this raw ache, but nothing really cured it. No matter how many nights you devoted your body to Beomgyu's desires, there would always be a night when you would lock yourself in your room and cry for all that he lacked, for all that you couldn't give him, for all that you didn't want to give him. And he would know, he always noticed these things, the tears burning under the flesh of your cheeks. But he would not caress your heart as you cried, nor would his hands wrap around you as your mind and soul had done a thousand times with him. For Beomgyu would still be miserable, and neither you nor he was ready for him not to drag you down with him.
Your body responded to the demands of Beomgyu's fingers and gave him what they were looking for. He clung to you as if he didn't want you to escape. You could feel his muscles tense and tremble, his breath in your ears, his heartbeat and breath on your skin. It was the only thing you could hold on to so that you wouldn't collapse right there.
Beomgyu slid back, his fingers suddenly far away from the spot between your legs. The feeling of his emptiness inside you was such a familiar pain that you almost reached out for him for a moment, but the caress of his lips on your shoulder and that voice you missed so much brought your focus back to him.
"You're not leaving, are you?" he asked as he slid slowly and carefully inside you.
You didn't answer, you both already knew the answer.
The silence in the room was overwhelming. You were lying on the bed, minutes had passed since your breathing had returned to normal, and now the only sound in the room was the pattering of the rain against the glass of your window. The sweat had dried on your skin and the sheets; your muscles, now relaxed, felt a slight sense of fatigue that made you want to stay in bed.
You looked at Beomgyu's back and traced the curve of his posture with the pad of your index finger. The delicate contours of his vertebrae were illuminated under the dim light of your desk lamp, lacking muscular strength, with a fragility palpable in every stroke your finger outlined.
"Don't come back tomorrow."
"Y/n..." he said in a vague form of protest, but you cut him off before he could say anything else. "I have an exam and I really need to study.
I'll visit you on Friday." There was a minute of silence in which you thought he would try to protest, but he just nodded.
"Well, uhm... Are you hungry?"
"Not really."
"You're thinner."
"Maybe."
"Have they been feeding you well?" He gave you a sideways glance and raised his shoulders reluctantly. "It's hard, I have no appetite."
"Hospital food is terrible, isn't it?"
"I guess."
You sighed and looked at the back of his head as if you could see through it.
"It's not the kind of food we were made for," you replied, trying to lighten the mood. Beomgyu finally moved, turned around and his head landed right on your chest. You could feel his hands touching your ribs, his lips in your hair, your feet on his. "I could make you some fried rice," you continued. "So you can eat something."
"It's okay, just stay with you. I don't need any-"
Your eyebrows furrowed as he interrupted himself. He had raised his gaze and was now staring at you.
"What's wrong?"
"You look pretty."
Pretty.
The mood in the room changed when he said those words. You held your breath. Everything around you seemed weaker, as if it would fall apart at the wrong sound. You wanted to speak, but you dared not, out of weakness, your absurd cowardice, to show what you were thinking inside. You didn't feel beautiful. You didn't feel loved. Oh, what a relief it would have been to be able to express it to him at that moment, what a different and less complicated way it would have been not to wait for your surroundings to collapse in order to tell him all that you were hiding inside. Maybe if habit did not keep you silent when misery hovers around you, maybe if darkness was not the only stimulus urging you to seek the light, maybe you would have said it.
I feel lonely.
"Let's cook something, you know, like old times, but this time without burning anything. Let's make gimbap, but not just any gimbap. We can look up my grandmother's recipe, remember? I made it once for your birthday, haven't made it since, but I don't think I've lost the touch. The recipe has to be out there somewhere. My mother..."
"Okay," he interrupted, surprising you with a kiss on the cheek. "Forget the gimbap, fried rice is fine."
"Do you... do you want to join me or would you rather stay here and rest?"
"It's okay, your sister could meet me any minute."
"I'll be back in a few minutes."
With an overwhelming hope growing in your chest, you left your room and went to the kitchen. The house was plunged into a terrible silence and you had to fight the urge to return to the room, knowing that you would not find a warmer atmosphere inside. But the silence didn't last long, just as Beomgyu had predicted, Leah, your older sister, closed the front door as you finished descending the last flight of stairs. You were wearing only a plus size t-shirt and your panties, so you weren't surprised by the annoyed look she gave you.
"Looks like the rain caught up with you after work."
"He's here, isn't it?"
You weren't even surprised that she ignored your attempts to start a conversation away from Beomgyu. You rolled your eyes and headed for the kitchen without looking at her. "Oh, not again, Leah."
"That bastard," you heard her curse as she nipped at your heels. "He thinks he can do whatever he wants to you because of his illness?"
"He didn't do anything to me."
"That's the problem, y/n. In your opinion, he never does anything."
"Mind your own business, Leah." You told her as you tried your best to look busy, moving your hands around the closet, but the truth was your hands couldn't even remember what they were looking for. You opened one of the cabinets, then another. By the third, you felt a little discouraged, so you opened the fourth. Your hands began to despair, until finally a small package of rice wrapped in plastic caught your eye. You gently picked it up and placed it in your lap as you pulled a wooden stool closer to the side of the counter and sat down.
"I'm minding my own business." She replied, standing behind you for a few moments, a tense silence settling between the two of you, and you didn't dare look her in the eye. You felt a pang of embarrassment.
"Leave me alone."
Leah took one of your hands and forced you to face her. "You know I don't like to keep quiet when it comes to this, I didn't before, I won't now. Even if my words are in vain, even if I don't have the right to tell you what to do, I won't swallow my disapproval of you continuing this story in which you are clearly not a heroine. You are a fool, just like mom, don't you see? You witnessed her long years of misery for what? To repeat history? What is broken only hurts."
"Stop." You pulled her hand hard. "This is between Beomgyu and me, no one else has any part in this. How many times do I have to explain myself to you?
Leah let out a frustrated sigh, she seemed to be debating your words and your back stiffened as you waited for her next attack, but the tension in your body turned to surprise when you felt her hand tugging at the collar of your shirt.
"Leah!" you screamed, but your attempts to push her away faltered as you became aware of what she was looking at with such displeasure. You didn't even remember the purple marks on your collarbone, they were old and therefore barely noticeable, but her sharp eyes hadn't missed them and her expression made it clear that he knew who the culprit was; which was just one more reason to increase her displeasure.
"I'm going to... God, that idiot..." After a few seconds of silence, you heard her sigh and turn away. You felt your stomach sink. "Is he upstairs?"
"Leah, don't..."
Your reflexes were fast, but not fast enough to catch her before she came out of the kitchen. Less than a meter from the stairs, your fingers clutched at her clothes, perhaps too tightly, perhaps so desperately that it left your sister and you in disbelief.
You thought of Beomgyu waiting for you in your room, vulnerable and feeble with his own thoughts. Maybe he agreed to let you cook for him because he wanted to be alone, maybe he called you pretty because it was easier than saying anything else. Maybe you loved him and it wasn't right. Maybe you hated him and he knew it. Maybe you took his sadness for granted, or maybe you should have understood that he wasn't worth it. But there was more, something darker than all possible answers, something you suspected but were afraid to admit to yourself, afraid to face it.
Beomgyu didn't need you, it was you who needed him.
Your hand loosened its grip on Leah's clothes and you stepped back. A tremor went through your body as you looked down at your hands, suddenly afraid of yourself, your own demons. "I'm sorry, just... leave him alone."
For a few seconds you thought she would say something, argue, scream, or just try to move on as if she didn't hear you. She did none of these things, instead she turned back to the stairs and said those words that hit every sensitive nerve in your body.
"If your disease doesn't kill you soon, you should kill yourself."
At first, her words were like an attack that you couldn't digest for the first few seconds. They hurt, they stole your breath, and you heard the crackling of something weak, something sensitive breaking; but it was only when you saw where the attack was directed that fear and a searing anxiety invaded your body and made your knees fight against a wrenching weakness.
"Leah!" the scream tore at your throat.
Beomgyu was standing on the stairs when he met your sister's gaze. His jaw was clenched, but his tired expression made him look almost expressionless. But he wasn't. He was shaking, more than you. He was suffering, more than you. He had never looked so small, so fragile, so far away. And you had never felt so helpless, so frightened, so unaware of your impulses.
"How... how can you say such a thing?" Your palms slapped Leah's back, once, twice, three times, as if to force her to spit out an answer. You were distraught, desperate, about to burst into tears. "How can you be a human being and say such a thing? How can you be my sister and..."
"'Whoa, whoa, take it easy... Just calm down..." Beomgyu's arms, who seemed to have rushed down the stairs at full speed at the first of your attacks, wrapped around your waist and pulled you back. You tried to pull him away, even though you had no intention of returning to your sister, but he clung to you tightly. "Come on, outside."
You didn't resist as he led you outside your house. His hands released you only when he closed the door behind him and you turned to him with a pleading expression. Beomgyu said nothing but shook his head in a gesture you could not decipher and the fear that shook every part of your body could not have been worse.
Silence.
You parted your lips, desperately wanting to say something, anything, but nothing came out. Beomgyu gave you a dejected smile and shrugged his shoulders, a gesture he always made when he wanted to play things down and cheer you up. You had to look away to keep from collapsing.
The raindrops on the pavement were bright white under the streetlights. The streets were empty, the only sounds being your accelerated breathing, the pattering of the rain, and the rustle of the trees in the wind. The air was tinged with damp bark and earthy moss, a smell that for the first time you found more devastating than comforting.
"I'm going home, back inside."
Your breath caught in your lungs and you made an incredible effort to get the words out of your mouth. 'If your disease doesn't kill you soon, you should kill yourself'. These words kept going over and over and over in your mind. How could your sister tell him that, how could she even think about it? Beomgyu, who had lived in a body full of anxiety, instability, impulsiveness, confusion, and paranoia since he was sixteen. Beomgyu, who had to live with an incurable diagnosis and inexhaustible medication. Beomgyu, in whose confused mind, behind a thick layer of emotions, there was only a genuine desire to be loved, accepted and valued by himself and others. Beomgyu, insecure, bright, dull, happy, depressed, who started a new war against himself every day. If your sister had known all this, would she have said those cruel words? If your sister had seen the sharp, cutting impact that melted into Beomgyu like a heavy anchor that prevented any hope from floating, would she really have stayed at home so calmly?
"She doesn't know what she said," you whispered, lifting your gaze from the floor to look deep into his eyes. "She's... selfish, arrogant, completely irrational. She thinks she knows you. They think they know you. But they don't know anything about you! They don't know you like I do, no one...no one..."
"It's okay."
"Nobody does."
"I know." Beomgyu took your face in his hands, his intense eyes never leaving yours. "You know me better than anyone."
"Stay."
Beomgyu shook his head sadly.
"No, I..."
"I love you."
Your interruption seemed to shake the ground beneath Beomgyu's feet. The boy sighed shakily and leaned his forehead against yours. His eyes, now wet and shiny like the concrete of the long avenue, were hidden under his eyelids and closed with the force of something burning to be seen.
"Do you sometimes... do you sometimes not have the urge to die together? To throw us in a lake and drown? Something like that?"
A sob escaped your throat and your hands cupped his cheeks, almost as if you were holding his heavy soul with the edge of your fingernails to keep him from slipping from your grasp. Nothing was ever more frustrating. "No, God, of course not, how can you say such a thing? I want nothing more than to live by your side, to synchronize your heart with mine, to hear you breathe, to see you smile... I want to calm you down and for you to calm me down. I want to survive with you.
Beomgyu let out a soft snort that resembled an attempt at laughter. "Always giving me the cold shoulder. Go back inside, you'll catch a cold."
Your hands grabbed his clothes. You didn't want to let go, your whole being told you not to, not to let him go, not like that, not with those words still echoing in his head. Beomgyu gently pushed your hands away and you trembled. You were afraid for everything, for him, for yourself, for the future. You feared his departure and that he would become unreachable. For the first time, you feared that you didn't love him.
Beomgyu's breathing was steady now, only the faint, clear outline of his body pressed against your chest told you that he was still there, still present. "I'm scared," you whispered.
"Me too."
"Will I see you tomorrow?"
"Friday, I'll see you Friday."
"You promise?"
"I promise."
Finally, you stepped back, still wanting to say many things, but lacking the right repository of words to get them out. Beomgyu hesitated for a moment, his mouth opened slightly as if he wanted to speak. But he didn't. You took a deep breath and stepped back again, your face blank and your hands hanging limply at your sides. Your lips trembled, but then, almost out of nowhere, you smiled. It wasn't a happy smile, nothing like that, given the situation. It was desperation eating away at your life, the wind hitting your body and telling you how empty your hands were now. It was Beomgyu, tired and in pain, making his way into the distance.
You’ve lived a life marked by pain and loneliness, until the day you decide to put an end to it. But a mysterious presence intervenes, altering your fate and granting you a second chance to experience life from a different perspective. However, this act of compassion comes at a cost: the guardian who saved your life is bound to follow you without interfering in your predestined death, a brutal and inescapable one. Bound by an impossible connection, you and your guardian face the price of defying destiny, the weight of sacrifice, and the fleeting promise of hope.
𐔌 masterlist - wc: 1.6k
dulcier note’s: in this section, beomgyu will be referred to using neutral pronouns. within the universe of this story, guardians do not possess a physical body like that of humans and therefore have no defined gender or sex. this choice is made to remain faithful to the nature of their existence, though this aspect will be further explained later in the story.
⚠︎ depictions of emotional distress, crying, and feelings of deep loneliness and exhaustion. references to suicidal thoughts and ideation. descriptions of poverty, neglect, and self-destructive thoughts. exploration of mental health struggles, hopelessness, and the desire to die.
Introduction | battles that were never meant to be won
Driven by nothing more than the force of habit and the aching desire to rest, you dragged yourself through the apartment door. The creak of a hinge announced your arrival, and the small, weary place—resigned and struggling to preserve its dignity amid decay—welcomed you with the smell of dampness and mold that clung to the air. Natural light barely filtered through the dull, dirty windows, veiled by frayed and faded curtains. A naked light bulb hung from the ceiling, casting a weak yellow glow that barely illuminated the heart of your home: a worn-out couch with mismatched cushions facing a low wooden table scarred by scratches and cigarette burns. Papers and clothes piled up in the corners, and dust lay thick on every available surface.
You didn’t bother wiping away the tears that began to slip down your cheeks. Tearing, sinking, wearing you down, they fell onto the creaking wooden floor beneath your feet, vanishing into the uneven grain, washing over stains that hadn’t been cleaned in years. They were as numerous as the wars that made up your long, endless list of hopelessness—so many that even months of weeping would never wash them all away.
That was why crying felt as useless as breathing in that moment.
You’d been fired from your part-time job just a few hours earlier. Your mind wrestled with its own discouragement, trying to figure out what to do next—how to survive just to keep existing, and at the same time face the fact that existing seemed so little compared to truly living. You had rent to pay, along with water, electricity, and internet bills by the end of the month—tuition, food, transportation. But while those debts and responsibilities were what kept you human, they were also what was killing you.
Working just to pay for your own death.
You slid onto the couch; your tears, as lost as you, found a place to hide when you buried your face into one of the cushions. You were so... so tired.
They could see and feel it all—your pain, painted across your skin in a way that couldn’t be ignored or softened. It pierced through the last barrier of hope and clung, viscous and unrelenting, to your bones. You wanted to follow the urge and stay in bed all day, until time erased your anguish and left only blurry, agonizingly confused days behind. You wanted to give up, to remain numb until your skin clung to your bones and sadness finally found a way to drain itself out.
That kind of sorrow—so deep and raw—was the most human thing there was. And that was why they loved you instantly.
“Are you here?” your voice came out as a fragile whisper in that horribly silent room. Lying on the couch, you turned onto your back and stared at the ceiling. “If you exist, you must be here. But if you did exist, you wouldn’t leave me alone, would you? I wouldn’t be this alone, this barely alive, this barely dead.”
The invisible being knelt before you, lips slightly pouting, brow furrowed as they sensed the storm of confused, intense emotions overwhelming you. They had only seen you cry a few times before—one of them the night they were first assigned as your guardian, that cold night when you left home at barely sixteen to escape a dysfunctional and abusive family. The second and last time had been months later, when they visited you in a dream while you were starving and freezing under the filth and dampness of an abandoned bridge. I don’t want to die, you had whispered again and again.
“If you were here, you’d take me with you,” you murmured.
They heard your words, and the wrinkle in their brow deepened as they cradled your head and whispered words meant to soothe.
“I’m here, my dear. You’re not alone—neither half-alive nor dead, just a little lost.”
But those words only reached you when your spirit allowed them in. It was a series of endless, repetitive moments in which the guardian was forced to face the cruel reality of human emotion: no matter how much it burned or how much was lost in feeling it, emotion existed to see and not see the world, to live and yet be unable to live within it. When a human—immune to their nature—found themself, beings like them were rewarded with peace from their human hearts. But it didn’t always end well; peace, satisfaction, or happiness weren’t always achievable goals—often, not even conceivable ones.
They were complex struggles, many tragic, but not always destructive in the absolute sense. Sometimes sadness was the only path through which to fight those battles—to confront loss, to reflect, to express, to communicate, to motivate, to appreciate, and, ultimately, to grow. It was the kind of feeling that frightened, and yet beings like them had to encourage their wards to be resilient, to remind them that, no matter how consuming sadness felt, it was never meant to rule.
It wasn’t inevitable—yet sometimes, that sadness became an illness. A path once meant to lead elsewhere became a mental and physical prison, one in which even life itself could be lost. When their wards faced such states—diverse, complex, multifactorial, deeply personal—the guardian often wondered if such suffering was truly necessary. They had watched humans who never knew peace, humans at constant war with themselves and the world. And though the biological, psychological, and social roots of such pain were purely human, the guardian often doubted whether allowing so much of it didn’t contradict their very essence—to protect. But when they expressed such doubts to their superiors, the answer was always the same: there are battles that were never meant to be won.
It was that same sorrow that had, countless times, closed the only passage through which they could reach you. It was no different this time. That emotion—poisonous and exhausting—lived in your bedsheets, in the weight of your steps, in the grime of your home, in the silence that tortured you at night. It kept you all to itself. It was that selfish, that possessive.
Sometimes, when they managed to break through those walls and be heard, the guardian was rewarded with a fleeting sense of peace and purpose. A fragile calm could be found. But in moments like this, when the cloud of your thoughts grew so dense and impenetrable, the guardian shared your torment—lived it—felt it, almost in a painfully human way.
You would never forget those nights when the world felt so terrifying and your body so frail—when you were so close to giving in, to letting the breeze of a world that never accepted you knock you down. A world where you didn’t belong, where there was no longer room for your dreams or hopes. And then, that presence would appear—something, someone near you. It felt calm, kind, loving. You’d feel a sudden urge to look up and forget what lay below. It felt like... hope.
And like a wanderer about to give up their legs and their search for belonging, you clung to those moments of dim light.
“Please come... just let me hear you. I feel so... alone. Let me hear your voice. Let me hear a voice,” you pleaded to the wind, your voice breaking.
The guardian gazed at you with such compassion; their hand drifted from your hair as they leaned forward to embrace you. Physically, you couldn’t perceive it—but they wanted you to feel it. They longed for their gentle, tender touch to free you from your pain, for their soothing voice to reach your mind and touch your heart—so exposed, so lonely. They wanted to comfort you, to make you know you weren’t alone—that you had never been.
“Everything will be alright. I’m here now. Always here.”
But you didn’t hear it. And the guardian felt overwhelmed as they watched you cry. You were begging to be freed from your thoughts and dark impulses with such fervor that they were no longer trying to give those feelings meaning—they were trying to calm them, to fight them.
They were losing you. Your soul was slipping away, like molten fire between their hands.
“Please... don’t let me die.” Your voice came out as little more than an echo, heavy with a kind of desperation unlike the first time they had saved you from an undeserved death. “Say your name, speak to me. Don’t leave me...”
“Things will get better, I promise. Just stay calm and let me guide you. Don’t go, don’t go. For the love of God, my dear—not yet,” the creature pleaded, their voice cracking too.
The guardian themself was faltering; bitterness and despair grew within them like lifeless, thorny branches whose only purpose was to wound. Their duty as guardian—as protector of that precious human life—was failing. The guardian began to cry too, clinging to you even tighter.
“You’ve been through so many hardships, haven’t you? And yet you stayed strong, resilient, fighting for your life and the chance to live another day. It’s not your time yet, so don’t give up. Don’t give up, please, don’t give up on life,” they tried once more, aching to be heard.
But not even the guardian’s pleas stopped you from standing. You stepped away, grabbed a pencil and a sheet of paper, and sat down at the neglected table instead of returning to the couch. They looked over your shoulder, curious and hopeful—but the horror and pain that spread through every material and immaterial part of their being was enough to bring beings like them to their knees and damn souls like yours, as you began to write your farewell letter.
Desperate, without forethought, they let the next words escape their mouth—words that could be heard, and would condemn you both:
“My name is Beomgyu.”
tags: @likejjunie
𐔌 Readers are welcome to comment or send a private message if they wish to be tagged in future updates or sections of the story.
You’ve lived a life marked by pain and loneliness, until the day you decide to put an end to it. But a mysterious presence intervenes, altering your fate and granting you a second chance to experience life from a different perspective. However, this act of compassion comes at a cost: the guardian who saved your life is bound to follow you without interfering in your predestined death, a brutal and inescapable one. Bound by an impossible connection, you and your guardian face the price of defying destiny, the weight of sacrifice, and the fleeting promise of hope.
guardian-angel!beomgyu x gn!reader
word count: -k
genre: angst / introspective / psychological / supernatural
⚠︎ Not About Angels contains sensitive and potentially distressing material. The story delves into themes such as mental health, suicide, depression, loneliness, the search for meaning, and the fragility of human emotion. To avoid unnecessary discomfort, these subjects are not portrayed from a religious perspective.
It also includes depictions of substance abuse and behavior under its influence, as well as verbal, physical, and sexual abuse (without explicit or gratuitous content). Emotional vulnerability, self-destructive thoughts, and existential despair are central to the narrative’s tone and character development.
Please take this into consideration before reading, and review the specific content warnings provided at the beginning of each section.
Reader discretion is strongly advised, and this story is not recommended for individuals under 18 years of age.
⇢≫ introduction —battles that were never meant to be won
It was a series of endless, repetitive moments in which the guardian was forced to face the cruel reality of human emotion: no matter how much it burned or how much was lost in feeling it, emotion existed to see and not see the world, to live and yet be unable to live within it.
𐔌 Readers are welcome to comment or send a private message if they wish to be tagged in future updates or sections of the story.
“Beomgyu was taught that actions speak louder than words— he’s grown to care for others in that way, but when he finally decides to let his heart speak for once, he learns that it may have been better to remain silent instead.”
“can you hear it? my heart calls for you. i’ve been here, waiting patiently all along.”
beomgyu x gn!reader
[ft. Yeonjun and Sunghoon of Enhypen]
Genre: fluff, angst, f2l, idiots to lovers, slowburn
Word count 12.4k
Warnings: mentions of food, lots of (fake) arguments n stuff, mc has a bit of anxiety, panic attacks/overstimulation, mentions of past toxic relationships, lack of proper communication, they’re both idiots please be patient with them. (lemme know if I should add anything!)
Notes: the Beomgyu brain rot got me again, enjoy and leave me silly little comment if u want me to think about u for the rest of the day ^_^
beomgyu: idk how to flirt i done called them a bitch
It’s no secret your relationship with Beomgyu is peculiar.
Out of everyone else in your friend group, you’d think the two of you would get along the most— same hobbies, same interests, your playlists containing all the same songs every time you go to get aux in the car— yet if anything, your friends have all learned to keep the two of you at least three feet apart at all times.
It’s not like you seriously hate each other— at least, you’d hope not— but it just seems that you’ve both taken quite the liking to treat each other in a much more harsh, unforgiving way.
“That sweater is hideous,” Beomgyu comments, staring you down with those same puppy eyes he always uses to get what he wants. He doesn’t flinch at the glare you send him, gritting your teeth as you watch him take an innocent sip of his shake; your lack of response only fuels him further, his lips twitching in amusement as he pulls away from his straw with a loud pop!
“It’s so tacky.”
Personally, you didn’t expect to be accosted over your comfort sweater in a Steak ‘n Shake on a random Tuesday. Yet here you are, letting out an offended gasp as you pat down your sweater in a self-reassuring manner; sure, the color and pattern aren’t exactly the most pleasing to the eye, but you were lazy and didn’t feel like doing your laundry just yet— if anything, you’re sure you could find a think piece like this in Beomgyu’s closet— or rather a few, to be realistic.
“I know you’re not one to talk,” you begin, your friends sighing and rolling their eyes as they watch your antics ensue. Once you got started, you never stopped; it truly didn’t help that you were so easily provoked, either, “Don’t think I forgot about the time you dressed like Adam Sandler for a straight week.”
“It was summer and the AC was broken!” Beomgyu perks up immediately at your comment, his ears turning red as he turns to his roommate for help; Soobin simply shakes his head, leaving Beomgyu to his defeat as he turns his focus to the fries in front of him— though you don’t miss the way his dimples poke through his cheeks as he bows his head down, a soft huff escaping him as he tries to hide his obvious laugh.
It isn’t long before you get lost in the argument; you’re not even sure if you’re making sense anymore, all logic thrown out the window as you begin to threaten Beomgyu that you’ll fight him in the parking lot this instant if he doesn’t watch his mouth— and like always, he’s never one to back down— it isn’t until you’re both chugging your shakes and telling the other to get ready that your friends finally decide to intervene.
Even as you finally settle down and head back to Soobin’s car, you’re still able to catch Beomgyu casting you stupid looks and sticking his tongue out at you childishly— you would’ve been quick to return the gesture if Taehyun hadn’t smacked him clean upside the head, telling him to “behave” as Beomgyu quickly gave him a look that resembled a kicked puppy.
You’d like to think that you would’ve won the fight— Beomgyu’s hair is pretty grabbable, but you’re sure you would’ve left the battle with a couple of bites on your body; even then, Beomgyu is the least active in the friend group, so you’re sure you could’ve easily tired him out— an easy win for you.
(That, and the fact that Beomgyu is incapable of hurting anyone he cares about.)
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Being left alone with Beomgyu is not recommended.
It’s not ideal either, and you’ve come to learn this the hard way; without a mediator there to put up with your antics, there’s truly no way to tell what’ll happen if you’re left alone for longer than five minutes.
You’ve decided to be alone today, your back aching and your muscles becoming numb as you sit in the library, poring over your computer as you feel your vision slowly blurring; you’re almost done with your assignment, yet you can’t help but feel that all these hours of being cooped up inside have come back to haunt you as you feel an ache forming behind your eyes, the words before you becoming nonsensical as your brain slowly turns off.
Once you get in the zone, it’s hard for you to get out of it— you never know when you’ll be able to focus this much again, so you use it to your advantage and try to make it last as long as you can. But it’s draining, and you often find yourself strained by the time you finish— but you’ve worked so hard and you’re almost finished, you’re sure that if you push through the pain a little longer you’ll be able to focus again, right?
Your efforts come to a shattering stop as you feel a tug at your hair, insistent and childish as you try to shrug it off— all you get in return is a flat hand slapping on the top of your head, tilting your head back until you’re stuck staring at the ceiling.
“I’m hungry.”
“How did you find me.”
You’re not sure why that’s your first reaction, but the sight of Beomgyu hovering over your eyes, upside down and pouting, makes you slump back in your chair in defeat— out of all the outcomes and people that could have found you, this one’s definitely the worst.
“You weren’t at the dormmmsss,” he whines, petulant as ever as he jolts your head around annoyingly; his grip is firm on your head, and it takes a sharp slap to the back of his hand for him to pull away, watching him kiss the stinging area softly as you ignore the looks you get from the people around you.
“Okay? Didn’t you stop to think that it was for a reason?” You say, twisting around in your chair to face him; you’re quickly backing away as he’s leaning in, sharp eyes glaring at you as he lowers his volume.
“I wanted to go to that one place you took us last week, but I forgot what it was called— I had something really good but I don’t remember what it was.” He doesn’t seem phased by the puzzled look you send him; your face is scrunching up and you’re left in disbelief as you tilt your head, pursing your lips as you wonder what he could be talking about.
“You mean Steak ‘n Shake?”
You don’t miss the way his eyes widen at the sound of the very popular and well-known fast-food chain; his face feels hot as he clears his throat, shaking his head softly as he sighs.
“N—no… the other one.” His response doesn’t help at all; you’re sure you’ll get wrinkles with the way you’re frowning, truly trying to give him the benefit of the doubt before you’re left at a dead end after a moment.
“That was the only place I suggested.”
“Really? I could’ve sworn there was some other place,” he’s innocent as he straightens his posture, no longer leaning down to talk to you as he runs an impatient hand through his hair. His gaze is fleeting around the room as he goes quiet, the gears clearly being put at work in his head as he finally concludes,“Whatever. Take me there.”
“What? No, I’m busy,” you say, gesturing to your computer behind you as you give him an incredulous look. He simply scoffs carelessly, stepping closer to you until he’s reaching over, shutting your computer clumsily before he’s shoving it in your bag. You’re not sure of what else to do but run after him as he scurries away with your belongings, ignoring your hushed yells for him to stop as he simply glances back at you; his pace quickens shortly after.
It isn’t until you’re exiting the library that you finally allow yourself to run after him, curses and insults escaping you left and right as he suddenly gains an impeccable speed— you choose to chalk it all up to the fact that you’ve been cooped up inside all day, your energy well drained while Beomgyu has more than enough to spare.
“Wait!” You call out, thankful that the area is empty as you push through and chase after him; it’s ridiculous how he already managed to gain such a distance between you two, and your body is already giving in as you huff tiredly, your pace slowing to nothing more than a tired waddle, “you don’t even know where you’re going!”
Only then does Beomgyu give in to your cries; he’s sheepish as he turns around, an innocent grin on his face as he hugs your belongings close to his chest. Even though he’s well off in the distance, you can still see his reluctance to return to you as he looks down at his shoes shyly— but you know better than to fall for that act.
“It’s this way, dumbass,” you sigh, your feet aching as you turn around without another word. You refuse to admit defeat as you begin walking, annoyed that you allowed Beomgyu to get his way again as you try to appreciate the beautiful spring day instead. You don’t need to look back to know that Beomgyu is hot on your trail, his puppy-like antics never failing him as the sound of his shoes scuffing against the pavement reaches your ears; it isn’t long before Beomgyu catches up to you, skipping. His hair is bouncy and fluffy as he wears a leisurely smile, not phased in the slightest by the dirty look you send him— his reaction time is godly as he manages to dodge your quick hand that went to snatch your bag back from him.
“Why did you come bother me,” you grumble, slowing to a stop as you wait for your chance to cross the street; the pedestrian light remains red as you lean against the traffic light pole, crossing your arms as you send Beomgyu another irritated look, “like, be honest, you could’ve just bothered Soobin or something.”
“He kicked me out,” he pouts, whining about the way Soobin called him a “horrible distraction”— you can’t blame him, but you’re also a bit angry that he managed to bring the problem to you instead— “and I didn’t wanna go alone. Plus I’m really craving a cookies-and-cream shake right now.”
“So you do remember,” is all you say, referring to Beomgyu’s shenanigans with the restaurant as you push yourself off the pole. He remains silent, a soft pout on his face as he walks ahead the moment traffic is cleared, leaving you behind as you’re left to scoff at his actions.
Beomgyu also remembered that you have a habit of studying until your body gives out, ignoring your needs with ease— which worries him to death— but you really don’t need to know that.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
You think studying really did a number on you today.
At least, that must be what’s showing on your face if it has Beomgyu toning down his annoyingness drastically, going as far as to open the door for you and not react to your snarky comment about how much of a gentleman he was. It’s a bit unnerving really, even when Beomgyu decides to pay for your food despite him always attempting to trick you into treating him every time you go out— you’re surprised that he isn’t asking you to Venmo him immediately after you sit at a table.
There’s something strange about today; you can’t really pinpoint what it is as you find yourself having a civilized conversation with Beomgyu, surprised that you’ve made it to the twenty-minute mark without arguing to the point where you’ve received concerned looks from the patrons around you.
“Do you think I’m dying or something?” You finally blurt out, watching as Beomgyu sends you a confused look, in the middle of taking a sip from his shake as he tilts his head in curiosity. “I mean like, why aren’t we fighting right now— why are you being nice.”
He seems reluctant to respond at that; his eyes have flickered back down to the melting whipped cream topped with cookie crumbles as he feels your stare burn into him, unsure of what to say as he gulps nervously, the shake slowly disappearing until he’s drunk more than half; even then, you persist, leaning on the table as you try to lower your face to meet his eyesight, lowering more and more until your cheek is hovering over the surface of the table. Beomgyu sighs, pulling away slowly as he urges you to sit up annoyingly.
“I don’t know, I guess I just felt bad,” he grumbles, the words feeling jagged and odd in his mouth as he forces himself to spit it out, “You kinda did look like you were dying back at the library, honestly.”
The sassy man that has haunted your life has finally returned; it’s oddly relieving as you find yourself falling back into your antics, scoffing at his words as you throw your straw wrapper at him.
“Okay, rude,” you say, watching the way he plays with the trash you threw at him, “I didn’t exactly ask you to come bother me, either.”
“I know,” Beomgyu says, tilting his head as he reaches over to steal your food; even as you swat at his hands and scold him, he still manages to take a hefty amount of fries from you, a burning need to beat him up lighting inside you as you swat at his hand one last time for good measure.
“But I just love messing with you.”
It’s so strange that a sentence like that would affect you— yet, the feelings that stir within you definitely aren’t normal, and the way you stutter when you spit out an insult definitely isn’t either. The emotion is strange and short-lived as you refuse to dwell on it, clearing your throat as you go to kick Beomgyu under the table; it’s easier to pretend like nothing happened when you’re too busy fighting the boy before you.
The air between you has shifted back to its usual state as Beomgyu quickly gives up on being nice, his childish antics much more welcoming as he tries to steal your drink on the way out; it takes a firm punch to his arm for him to back off, your annoyance evident on your face as you make your way back to the dorms in hopes of getting rid of this clingy mess before you.
“Hey,” your space is quickly invaded as you turn to the source of the sound, the warmth that was spreading through your chest quickly being snubbed out at the sight of the man that’s trying to approach you; Sunghoon’s mischievous grin is dreadfully familiar as he catches up to you much too quickly, unable to find an escape as you simply smile nervously.
“Hey,” you grimace, the grip on your drink tightening as you avoid looking into your ex’s eyes, “what’s up?”
“Oh nothing, I just wanted to see how you were doing,” he says, taking yet another step closer as you find yourself gulping uncomfortably, “you haven’t answered any of my messages, you know.”
It wasn’t a surprise to find that Sunghoon still hadn’t given up on you; it was a trait you admired once, but after the two of you broke up you quickly found that the endearing characteristic had quickly turned into your worst nightmare. So here you stand, laughing awkwardly as you try to cycle through the countless excuses you’ve given him every time he’d tried to come up to you.
“Dude, can you just back off? They’re not interested,” you’re not sure you’ve ever seen Beomgyu this serious as he glares at Sunghoon; your eyes are widening at the sudden hostility he’s displaying, smiling nervously as you go to intervene, knowing how quickly Sunghoon can escalate things.
“You’re kidding,” Sunghoon scoffs, unable to let you speak as he’s rolling his eyes, taking in the way Beomgyu stands behind you protectively, “how ‘bout you back the fuck out of our business?”
You’re quick to step in as Beomgyu goes to say something else, placing a firm hand on his arm as you send Sunghoon a sharp glare. The man doesn’t seem to be phased by your antics, sighing heavily instead as he takes in the way Beomgyu still follows you around pathetically.
“Sunghoon, why are you still here? It’s clear that I don’t want anything to do with you anymore,” you refuse to back off as you stare the man down, watching as he simply laughs incredulously at your words; you don’t flinch for a second the moment he begins to insult you, but you can feel the way Beomgyu grows angrier behind you.
“—embarrassing, how you still let your bitch follow you around like that—”
You don’t allow Sunghoon to get too far in his sentence before you’re dousing him with your drink, the projection so sudden that the three of you fall silent. Sunghoon is positively dripping wet with your drink and his face is turning redder by the second, but you don’t let the consequences of your actions set in before you’re tugging Beomgyu’s arm roughly, snapping him out of his trance as you go to run away.
Adrenaline is pumping furiously in your veins as you lace your fingers tightly with Beomgyu’s; you’re not sure if Sunghoon decided to chase after you— you doubt it, really— but you’d rather not find out as you choose to run away blindly instead. The air whips on your face and you’re surprised to feel a grin break out on your face, unsure of where your destination might be as you let out a bewildered laugh.
It isn’t until you’re turning the corner of a street that you find that Sunghoon is hot on your trail; you’re more than surprised to see it, your pace picking up as you tug on Beomgyu’s arm carelessly, eyes flickering from place to place in search of a hiding spot.
Your legs burn and you feel your hold on Beomgyu beginning to slip, yet you quickly find an idea forming in your head as you weave through the trees by a park entrance, pulling Beomgyu along until the soft grass under your shoes turns into hard mulch. You can hear his confused comments as you pull him up the play structure, forcing him to duck down and climb the stairs of the playground before you slump down at your destination.
You feel your back slide down against the warm plastic tube that leads to a slide.
The three circular holes act as windows as the two of you remain huddled in the empty park, giggling amongst yourselves as you look for any signs of your immature ex— you’re left shushing each other and slapping a hand over the other’s mouth as he appears in the distance, clearly soaked and still pissed off as he scans the area for the sight of you; a few moments pass before he’s giving up, probably mumbling angrily to himself as he turns around to leave.
You can feel Beomgyu smile against the palm of your hand— slowly, you turn to him, his eyes filled with such childish joy that you can’t help the way the two of you burst into another fit of giggles; the tube is much too small and you’re knocking into each other as you laugh, incoherent jokes being exchanged between the two of you as you slowly feel the adrenaline in your system ebb away.
“What an asshole,” Beomgyu sighs, placing his hands over his stomach as he turns to you; he’s laying back against the plastic tube, his hair filled with static as it begins to sit up and wriggle around wildly, watching as you laugh and poke fun at him for his wild hair, his head only rubbing against it more as he meets your gaze with a smile that slowly sobers, “you okay?”
You know he’s referring to the onslaught of insults that Sunghoon brought upon you; you’re surprised to find that you had already forgotten all about it, your mind racing as your mouth seems to let loose, spilling your thoughts as you keep your gaze forward.
“What? Oh, I’m fine,” you say, biting your lip before you continue without control, “I just couldn’t stand there and watch him try to insult you too.”
It’s silent at that. All you can hear is the rustling leaves of the trees and an occasional chirp in the distance. Your words seem to set in, and it’s suddenly far too warm in this small tube. You feel scrunched up and achy as you attempt to stretch out your legs, only able to get so far before your feet are pushing against the wall.
It’s a mistake to look back at Beomgyu. He’s sporting that stupid smile that makes you feel sappy, your guard lowering as you find yourself unable to insult your stupid friend. He shifts around, attempting to get more comfortable before your eyes widen— slowly, he reaches out to you.
The action is so tender and his eyes are so fond, his head tilting curiously as he’s leaning his body closer to you. You’re surprised to find yourself doing the same, gulping softly as you watch him hesitantly reach for your face. Tenderly, his face lands on your cheek— you jump up at the shock that sends through your skin.
“Ow!”
His stupid laugh and lack of apology are enough to tell you it had been his plan all along.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Your room is a mess.
You’re pacing around, restless and anxious as you run your palms down your clothes; it’s a horrible feeling, your throat gone dry as you glance at the mirror one last time. You’re not one to dress up much, but you know it’s only fair to go all out after the invitation for your friend’s wedding came in the mail like a slap in the face. Personally, marriage at twenty-five is a terrifying concept to you, but hey, to each their own.
Parties have never really been your thing; it was only after an insane amount of mental prepping that you finally decided to send back that small rsvp card, your fingers shaking as you nervously wrote down two for the number of guests.
It was an impulsive decision to ask your friend to come with you as your date-- but you had no one else to ask, and secretly, you wished for this to be the moment the two of you finally got closer. Yeonjun had agreed after some slight convincing, and you couldn’t deny the way your heart soared at the thought of the two of you spending the night together. Yet now here you stand, unsure and riddled with anxiety as you pass by your mirror for the umpteenth time.
Was this too much? Too little? Was the color okay? You hope you’re not overdressed— oh who are you kidding, it’s a wedding— but you also hoped you weren’t underdressed, either.
Your spiraling thoughts had quickly been interrupted by the buzzing of your phone, the notification bringing you out of your reverie as you found yourself drawn to your bed, a heavy sigh escaping you the moment you sat on the mattress; the text messages that stared back at you were oddly reassuring as you skimmed through them.
Yeonjun
hey, you look stunning
I’ll meet you there :)
A smile tugged at your lips; you had been so worried about your appearance that the memory of the picture you sent him earlier had completely been wiped from your mind, his compliment bringing butterflies to your stomach as you hesitantly typed something in return. With your confidence restored, you finally found it in yourself to finish getting ready, trying your best to not overthink things as you smoothed down your clothes in the mirror one last time.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Your friend looks gorgeous; it’s a thought that doesn’t leave your head for the rest of the night, a smile stuck on your face as you never miss a chance to compliment her. Yeonjun does the same with you, his kind eyes and soft smile sending a whirlwind of emotions through you as you shyly reply each time.
It’s a bit quiet as you sit at your assigned table. It seems as though you’ve run out of things to talk about, and you find yourself fidgeting nervously with you jacket that remains in your lap as Yeonjun looks around the venue; he’s looking for someone, you’re guessing, and judging the way his eyes widen and a smile breaks through his face, you definitely think he’s found them.
“Hey, is it alright if I go say hi to a friend real quick?” Yeonjun asks, his eyes sparkling as he places a gentle hand on your shoulder. And oh, who were you to deny him when he looked this cute? The way he has you stuttering out a response is embarrassing, but you refuse to let it show as he sends you a happy smile in return.
A slight twinge of regret hits you the moment he gets up to leave— you’re left alone now.
You’re sure you look like a lost child as your gaze follows Yeonjun, unsure of what else to do before he’s getting lost in the crowd. You have no idea who these other people are, and you don’t doubt for a second that the fear must be creeping up on your face by now; the only thing you’re counting on now is the hope that Yeonjun will come back soon.
A few minutes pass; you’re scrolling through your phone awkwardly, pretending as though you’re not counting down the seconds as you glance around the room every once in a while. It’s been ten minutes— you’re sure you look pitiful now, sitting alone at this table hidden in a corner.
After more time passes, you know that Yeonjun probably forgot all about you now. It’s a sad and pathetic thing to feel as you anxiously trudge up to the table filled with desserts and finger foods, biting at your lips as you try not to pity yourself and drown in embarrassment. But before you know it, you’re back to your overthinking self, left on edge as you scurry back to your table the moment you fill your small dessert plate; there were too many people crowding the table, too many strangers that kept glancing at you curiously, probably finding it strange that none of the people at the party seemed to recognize you. (They don’t care, the rational part of your brain screamed at you.)
Slowly, another more time seems to pass by. The bride is too preoccupied and swarmed for you to talk to her, and you’ve “gone to the bathroom” way too many times for it to be considered normal now. You want to go home. It’s such a shame that you couldn’t find the courage to assimilate or even branch out, but the dance floor is too intimidating for you to approach, and you can’t seem to recognize a single song they’re playing.
You’re stuck to be nothing more than an observer, not staring at your phone for once as you scan the room for your date once more; you perk up the moment you find him, hoping that he’ll see you and come back the moment you gain his attention.
All hopes are thrown out the window immediately. You find yourself deflating in defeat the moment you pick up on his body language, watching the way he’s enthralled with the person next to him, so affectionate and bubbly as he stares at them with stars in his eyes.
Oh. You think, feeling pathetic for the way you had gotten your hopes up for even a second. Though, after a moment, you find that the romantic sight isn’t what stung as much— the fact that he left you alone without much more of a thought did.
The room feels stuffy— you told him it was okay to go off on his own, so why should you be mad?— you feel as though everyone is staring at you now, judging you— but you thought he’d return, he insinuated he’d return— the music is so loud, your head is starting to hurt— how would he know you didn’t know anyone else at the party?
The sound of your chair scraping against the floor tiles is unpleasant as you beeline to the entrance, hoping that your brisk steps and troubled expression aren’t too concerning to the people around you. You can feel all the tension within you release the moment you step out, the wind cool on your skin as you let out a heavy sigh of relief.
You feel stupid the moment you begin to reflect on everything, sitting down at a nearby bench as you lean back against it. You feel stupid for everything; for getting yourself in such a situation, for having such difficulties socializing, for coming to this party in the first place— for inviting Yeonjun.
You feel stupid for crying. You feel so, oh so stupid as you let all the built-up stress and emotions leak out of you, unable to stop or control it as you stare up at the sky, at the moon and the stars that seem to be your only company for the night.
“I knew it had to be you,” a voice calls out, and you’re scrambling to wipe at your face, hunched over as you sniffle quietly, much too afraid to turn around to its source as you immediately recognize the mischievous tone.
You don’t say anything, much too afraid that your voice will betray you as you hear footsteps approach you; your heart is pounding, dread that he’ll see you in such a state pooling in your stomach as you stare down at your lap in silence.
“I saw you sitting alone in the corner, but I couldn’t figure out if it was really you,” Beomgyu lets out a soft huff as he takes a seat beside you, close enough so your limbs are touching, his body warm as he silently takes you in.
“Hey, what happened?” It’s embarrassing to hear his voice become so tender, so filled with concern as he immediately reaches out for your hand. You can practically feel his eyes burning into you, begging silently for you to look at him as you shake your head softly.
“Nothing, ‘m just acting stupid,” is all you say, a soft laugh being forced out of you in hopes that he’ll let it all slide. Instead, he shakes his head, bending down to try and meet your gaze that’s cast down at the ground— you turn away immediately, but he’s persistent in his actions as he chases your gaze, poking into your vision until he’s all up in your face; avoiding him is impossible as you laugh at his stupidity, pushing him away as he smiles fondly at you, grabbing ahold of your hands that push at his cheeks in hopes of getting him away.
“You’re not stupid,” he says, his voice soft as he takes in the way your eyes still shine with tears, “well, you are most of the time, but your feelings aren’t stupid.”
A grin is breaking out on his face as he watches you become pouty and angry with him, playfully punching his arm as you insult him in return. It’s quiet for a second, and before you know it, you’re staring at the sky again, shoulder to shoulder with Beomgyu as you try to not think about how close the two of you are, or how you’re slowly leaning your head on his sturdy shoulder, the action welcomed as Beomgyu leans his head on yours in return.
It’s magic; once you start telling him about everything, you can’t stop, surprised that you don’t feel shame or embarrassment for your feelings, the confessions a secret message between him and the moon that shines a light on the two of you. You tell him of all your stress, your troubles, and worries, and how small you felt being left alone inside, feeling helpless as you realized that Yeonjun didn’t find you important enough to return to you.
“I wouldn’t have left your side in the first place.”
The words are innocent as he says them, but it’s enough to make you feel as though the air got knocked out of you, unsure of what to say as you begin to feel your heart pounding against your chest.
“Wha— why are you here anyway?” You say, hoping he didn’t pick up on your stutter as you ask him something that’s been on your mind for a while—you don’t remember him mentioning anything about a wedding at all, and you know for a fact your friend and Beomgyu aren’t even acquainted.
“Hmm? I’m here with Soobin,” Beomgyu says, and you’re furrowing your brows at his words; how in the world did you not see them? “The groom’s his cousin.”
“Oh,” you say, pulling away as you hear someone walking nearby, your body getting tired from being in the same position for so long. Forcing yourself to stand, you watch Beomgyu quickly follow suit, patting yourself down as you look at your clothes pathetically; you let out a soft sigh, ashamed that you let such a pretty outfit go to waste on a night like this.
“God, I feel so stupid for wasting my time on all this,” you say, feeling small under Beomgyu’s gaze as you begin to wonder if you look bad.
Instead, Beomgyu says nothing; he takes a step closer to you, taking your appearance in as you avoid his eyes like the plague. You can feel yourself becoming flustered from his lack of response, your heartbeat quickening as he takes another step closer to you— he’s so close, you can feel his scent drowning your senses.
Softly, he cups your face; your eyes are widening as he tilts your head up, his lidded eyes meeting yours for a moment before he’s leaning in; gently, his lips touch your skin, plush and soft as he places a kiss on your forehead.
“You look beautiful— I’m glad you came.”
Your mind seems to blank at that, unable to say anything more before he’s urging you to go back inside, scolding you that it’s too cold to be out without a jacket— his blazer is coming off the moment he points that out, his jacket heavy on your shoulders as you attempt to process everything.
It doesn’t help that he tenderly takes hold of your hand after, beginning to ramble about how emotional Soobin is as you pretend that you’re following along to everything he says; mentally, you’re still trying to figure out how to react to everything that happened in such a short period of time.
You leave the party with Beomgyu and Soobin (who both made the experience much more enjoyable)— Yeonjun doesn’t contact you even after you’re long gone.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
“He kissed you?”
“Don’t say it like that!” You fuss, throwing a pillow at Soobin as you cross your arms in annoyance, “He kissed me on the forehead, there’s a difference.”
“Right, of course,” he mumbles, his words trailing off as his focus is drawn back to his game of Mario Kart; it had been an impulsive decision to visit Soobin the weekend after the wedding, knowing enough about the two roommates that you’d be certain Beomgyu wouldn’t be around— so now you sit on Soobin’s bed, biting your lip as you spill your thoughts in hopes of getting a second opinion.
“So…?”
“Jesus, Soob,” you groan, throwing yourself back on the bed in frustration, “You know damn well he’s not like that with me!”
“Not like what?” Soobin’s obliviousness is almost award-winning, and it has you gawking at him hard enough that he can pick up on it from his peripheral vision, “Was it weird? Are you weirded out by him now?”
“Well— no, of course not…” you mumble, trailing off as you’re forced to reflect on what his actions meant to you— what did you feel for him? You’re certainly not disgusted or weirded out by the actions, but you can’t help but feel strange as the memories of that night seem to pester you endlessly.
“I just… feel confused, maybe,” you admit, brows furrowing as you watch Soobin curse lowly under his breath— your eyes flicker back to the screen of his small tv, watching with slight amusement as he gets hit with a blue shell, the man before you jostling in his place beside you on the bed as he takes a second to process your words. Glancing back at you, his eyes widen, quickly focusing back on the screen as he takes a second to think.
“Confused? Why would you feel confused?” He asks, tilting his head before he’s muttering under his breath again— he groans, throwing his head back as he lands in second place, cursing out the person that took his spot bitterly before he’s throwing the control to the side and turning to you, “you’re friends, no?”
“I— yeah,” you say, unsure of why you feel restless as you sit up on his bed— you feel as though what he’s telling you isn’t really what you want to hear, but what you actually want to hear is unknown, even to you, “I just… you don’t think anything of his actions?”
Soobin pauses at your words; it’s clear he’s thinking back to the events you told him about, his eyes drifting to the ceiling before he begins to hum softly, fingers drumming rhythmically on his bedsheets before he’s tilting his head thoughtfully.
“Well, I guess it was a bit random, coming from him,” he begins, watching as you perk up at his sentence, “but he was just trying to comfort you, don’t you think?”
That definitely doesn’t seem to be what you wanted to hear. It frustrates you as you press your lips together, unsure of why you feel oddly underwhelmed at the thought that there was no deeper meaning to his actions— that it had all been done because Beomgyu simply felt obligated to.
“Yeah, I guess so…” you mumble quietly, unsure of why you feel much more tired than you did a few seconds before, telling Soobin to go back to his game as you let yourself get comfortable on his bed— he’s quick to question your sudden behavior change, but it’s far too late for you to talk to him as you wrap yourself in his blankets, kicking his side playfully the moment he asks you to not fall asleep on him; you’re able to see the way he laughs with a slight roll of his eyes, but your eyes feel much too heavy for you to take offense to it.
Your dreams are filled with what-ifs and romantic scenarios with a perfect, faceless stranger, their aura so comforting and warm that you can’t help but feel like you’re at home.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
There’s something weird about Beomgyu.
Granted, Beomgyu’s weird in general— you’d like to chalk it up to you just being your normal, overthinking self again, but you’d almost say that your relationship’s dynamic has changed; it’s subtle, but it’s there— even if you’re withholding from saying anything from the fear of being proven wrong— his gestures, the way he looks at you, it’s all… shifted.
He doesn’t try to fight you as much as he used to; if he does, he’s quick to drop it, not as petulant and persistent as you’re used to— it always leaves you confused and oddly irritated, smacking Beomgyu’s head away like a child the moment you notice him staring at you a little too long— it never fails to leave you disoriented, his eyes hiding something that you’re not sure you’d like to uncover as you choose to retaliate with violence.
“Stop looking at me like that,” you sneer, throwing your pillow at Beomgyu as the others remain unphased at your antics; it was just supposed to be a normal hangout like any other, yet Beomgyu just insisted on catching your attention with his stupid eyes— his eyes that resembled a puppy’s as you caught him staring at you multiple times in the last thirty minutes, catching you off guard every time as you were left flustered by how soft and fond he looked— after the tenth time of catching him, you found yourself to be tired of watching as he simply smiled and looked away like all the other times.
“I’m not even looking at you,” Beomgyu responds immediately, his face stoic as he looks down at his phone. (That he had just pulled out in a weak attempt to deceive you.)
“Stop lying, you little freak!” You continue, a frown on your face as you throw whatever else is next to you on the bed; you can hear Hueningkai whining about you abusing his plushies, but you don’t pay any mind to his comments as Beomgyu catches it effortlessly, hugging the Molang plushie tightly against his chest as he tilts his head at your comment, batting his lashes in faux innocence. Defeatedly, you groan, lying back on the bed as you throw an arm over your face.
“God, you’re so annoying,” you whine, able to kick Beomgyu’s leg with your limited reach; you can hear the bed shifting past the noise of Soobin and Hueningkai raging on Mario Kart, but you try to not react to it as you press your lips together and shut your eyes tightly— after a moment, you feel Beomgyu’s hand poking your side.
“You don’t mean that,” he says, and you can practically hear his pout as he continues poking you, trying to get a reaction out of you as he speaks, “I know you don’t mean that, right? Come on, tell me you don’t.”
You remain silent for as long as you can— but that proves itself to be incredibly difficult, because when Beomgyu wants a reaction from someone, he won’t stop until he gets one— and after what feels like forever, you finally decide to look at him, simply because you feel as though a bruise will form at your side if this child next to you keeps poking it so aggressively.
“Yes, I do mean it,” you say, squinting your eyes as you find Beomgyu’s face hovering over yours.
Beomgyu has always been like this— always touchy with others, never one to miss up on the chance to cling to the people he cares for— yet, you find your heart beating a little harder now, eyes shaking as you find yourself so close to him that you’re practically sharing the air you breathe; so close you could count every lash on his round eyes that stare down at you, close enough that if you crane your head up even a little, you could kiss him.
Oh god, that’s weird, you realize, eyes widening as you turn your head to the side, looking away from him and slapping your hand flat on his forehead in an attempt to push him away; you succeed without much of an effort, only able to look at him once he’s sat up completely.
“Get away from me,” you scold him, yet even though it’s lighthearted as always, you can’t help the way your voice wavers weakly, quieting down as you watch him continue to pout at you, “seriously, you have no concept of personal space.”
Usually, you’d expect Beomgyu to up his antics by a hundred; torment you like a toddler, forcing your friends to intervene once they’ve decided they’ve had enough of your disruptive behavior— anything would be better than watching Beomgyu narrow his eyes at you, oddly quiet before he lets out a soft “hmph.” Crossing his arms, he scooches away from you until he’s entirely pressed into the corner, far enough so that you can’t touch him no matter how much you stretch.
And just like you requested, he refuses to look at you the rest of the time— his action baffles you so much that you end up scooting over to torment him, whining petulantly for him to look at you again before you give up, kneeling next to him as you watch the way he stares at the wall in front of him, not even hiding his annoyance as he says thought you didn’t want me to look at you.
That’s enough to stop you completely— why were you doing this? Why had his actions bothered you so much? You remain silent after his comment, unsure of what else to say before you’re settling down next to him, stretching out your legs and crossing your arms as you mirror his posture; you look like scolded children, you hear Taehyun comment at some point, but you pay no mind to it as you remain by Beomgyu’s side diligently— it’s enough to have your mind racing with odd thoughts after approximately five minutes.
Beomgyu always smells so nice, you find yourself thinking, the familiar smell enveloping your senses and making your arms hug yourself a little tighter— he smells of fresh laundry and a warm spring breeze. Your eyes grow heavier as you watch your friends play Minecraft on the television— it feels so warm and comforting as you take in the way the sun has already set— you’ll probably have to go back to your dorm soon, but you can’t really find the energy to wake yourself back up as the calming music of the game quickly affects your mind.
Your upper body is sliding against the wall behind you; you don’t mean for it to happen, but it’s such a slow progression that you don’t realize the moment you’re now shoulder to shoulder with Beomgyu— his sweater is warm against your skin, and suddenly you regret wearing a t-shirt and not something warmer— your breaths are evening out, and as much as you want to see Soobin’s finished house that he keeps boasting about, you can’t help the way your vision blurs as you watch the screen in front of you, your head lolling forward a few times before your mind decides to fall asleep.
Beomgyu can see from the corner of his eye the moment you fall asleep, your head dropping down in an uncomfortable position as he finally turns to look at you.
You have no concept of personal space, your voice rings in his head, and he can’t help but find himself laughing as he watches the way you remained glued to his side the moment he began ignoring you, your shoulders pressed together as you slowly begin to lean more of your body weight onto him. Slowly, he moves, careful to not wake you as he reaches out for your head; his hands are gentle and tender as he moves your head to rest on his shoulder, reaching over to a nearby blanket before he’s throwing it over your shoulders— you’re warm beside him as Beomgyu tries his hardest to suppress his smile, biting his cheek so hard he thinks he might just draw blood.
You remain unaware of it all, shifting in your sleep so you’re practically cuddling into his side, searching desperately for more of the scent that brings you dreams of flower fields and love.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Your theory has been proven right— something has changed about your relationship with Beomgyu, but it’s definitely not him.
It’s you.
No, Beomgyu has changed a bit as well— he’s sweeter and a lot more gentle around you, sure, but it hasn’t been enough for it to be glaringly obvious— no, the problem lies with you, and the way you’ve begun to act and think around Beomgyu.
Friends don’t act the way you do; they don’t spit out insults left and right and act coldly while their mind races with dangerous thoughts, heart racing a little faster when their mind begins to whisper sweet what ifs; no, friends don’t do what you do, finding yourself staring at Beomgyu much longer than you’d like to admit before you’re paring it off with a swift, snarky comment, enough to start a petty argument that’ll have you wondering if Beomgyu was always so pouty when he talked, his lips pink and soft as you found your eyes drifting down to them more times than you’d like to admit.
Friends don’t pair off such thoughts with violence— it’s enough to have your friends asking if Beomgyu has managed to piss you off somehow, and even though you try to play it off each time, you can’t help but wonder if you really are angry at him.
The answer is somewhat of a yes— but you’re angrier at the way you can’t seem to act the same around him anymore, angry at the way you’ve begun to see him in a new light involuntarily— every intrusive thought is attempted to be pushed down as you try to force your old, feisty behavior back on him.
Eventually, Beomgyu picks up on your behavior as well, and he reluctantly distances himself from you on the assumption that he has angered you somehow— the sudden loss is enough to make you angry with yourself, feeling awkward around him every time your friends hang out together.
Tonight was no exception.
You’re trailing behind the group the moment you feel your mind beginning to wander, the bright lights from the stalls around you and the various items being sold falling numb on your brain as you get lost in thought, the music playing all around becoming muddled to your ears— the festival being held tonight was supposed to be a way for all of you to take a break from your studies and have fun, yet you seem to be failing at the latter as you find your eyes drifting— like a vicious habit, they fall on Beomgyu.
Oh, this is so weird, you think to yourself, still not used to the thoughts that begin to formulate in your head; no matter how much you try to push them away, you can’t help but notice how good he looks tonight; his hair styled nicely, bangs falling into his eyes with every breeze as his hands quickly come up to push the hair out his eyes; the soft lights from above and the lanterns that are lit as decoration turn the scenery around you into one big haze, absentminded as you watch your friends become distracted with the many food and souvenir shops, your mind much more occupied with other things as you find yourself daydreaming.
Like a coward, you turn away the moment Beomgyu catches you staring; your cheeks feel hot and you try to pretend as though you don’t feel Beomgyu staring at you for a moment, much more focused on the cute keychains the stall in front of you is selling as you show Hueningkai happily— it’s enough to distract you from your traitorous thoughts as you wonder if you should buy one, glancing at the price tag before you sober up and decide that it’s better to walk away; you’re giggling with Hueningkai as he pokes fun at you for being so cheap, falling into the playful banter before you feel the urge to look away from him— your eyes meet with Beomgyu’s on instinct.
The way your expression turns awkward and your words die on your tongue doesn’t go unnoticed by Beomgyu— you’re mentally kicking yourself as you watch him turn his back on you, and you’re beginning to wonder if you’ve taken the role of defense so hard that you’ve driven Beomgyu away from you— guilt seeps into your chest as you stare at his back, trailing behind him like a sad puppy as you begin to reflect on your recent actions.
The more you dwell on it, the more guilt you feel, trudging along with everyone else as the distance between you and Beomgyu grows; it’s enough to have you realize how your actions must have come across to the boy in front of you, your heart sinking as you watch the way his eyes immediately jump away the moment they meet yours— avoidant, scared to see your reaction as he quickly distracts himself with something else.
You’ve been acting so childish, you realize, wondering how you can get Beomgyu to at least talk to you again as you try to fall into step beside him— all attempts to strike up a conversation fall short as he responds curtly to you each time, clearly hurt by your previous actions as you find yourself giving up after a while.
Oh, why does it hurt so much to have Beomgyu ignoring you? You’ve done this to yourself, yet you can’t stand the thought of not being by Beomgyu’s side tonight. Your heart feels heavy and the lively atmosphere around you has become a lot more dull than you’d like as you quickly find your thoughts spiraling out of control, wondering what you can do to fix things.
“I heard there’s a firework show happening in an hour,” Soobin says, appearing at your side as the others become distracted with another booth nearby. You’ve decided to fall behind as you notice a booth that’s selling jewelry, two hairpins catching your eye as you stare at the pretty pieces decorated with intricate flowers. You’re snapped out of your daze as you look up, your fingers still running over the flower designs in your hands as you feel the metal slowly warm up from the heat of your skin.
“Apparently the view up there is supposed to be the best,” he continues, nodding at the end of the hill that’s already filled with people, a big tree that grows in the center of it all illuminating them from the warm lanterns that hang from its thick branches, “we should go, don’t you think?”
“Hmm… yeah,” your distant and soft voice doesn’t go unnoticed by Soobin as he raises a brow at you, eyes slowly taking you in before he’s following your line of sight— without meaning to, you’ve found yourself staring at Beomgyu again, watching as he’s gone quiet as well, mirroring your mood and no doubt lost in his thoughts as the idea of you being the cause of this brings a frown to your face.
“We’ll head up in thirty minutes…” Soobin continues, watching as you snap out of your daze and turn away from him; staring down at the pins in your hand, wondering how much they might cost as you begin to rummage for your wallet quietly, “We’ll try to get a good view, okay?”
“Okay, sounds cool,” you say, not entirely processing his words as he ushers you to follow behind him once you’ve bought the hairpins— you can see the way he glances back at you every once in a while, but you try to ignore the concern in his eyes as you force yourself to smile, brightening up your mood in hopes that you can finally get him to stop worrying.
It doesn’t take long before you’re hiking up the large hill; there’s a man-made trail you follow along, and you can already spot the crowds of people from afar, the number of friend groups and couples huddled together making your stomach twist involuntarily.
Inevitably, you find yourself growing tired; the hill wasn’t steep, but you weren’t exactly the most energetic tonight as you quickly found your steps trudging along, watching your friends continue to walk ahead as you reassured them that you were fine— just a little tired, don’t worry.
You’re stopped in your tracks completely as you stumble over a hole in the ground— you’re tripping, letting out a soft gasp before you’re tumbling to the ground; you’re left to fuss over the dirt on your clothes before you realize how much you’ve fallen behind, sighing in dismay as you slowly straighten yourself out— your hands brush over your pockets, and you freeze entirely when you reach inside, only able to find one hairpin as you feel your heart sink at the realization.
It’s completely dark now— there’s not even a ray of light that could assist you in your search, the lanterns from afar not doing much to illuminate the ground below you; you’re falling to your knees immediately as you begin to pat the ground around you in a panic, only able to feel grass and dirt as your hands become dirty, wincing slightly as you feel a particularly sharp rock scratch against your hand; your teeth sinking into your wobbling lip as you feel your emotions threaten to tumble down.
Patting your pockets in search for your phone, you realize with dread that you seem to have dropped that as well; you pause your search in defeat, staring at the dark ground around you as you begin to wonder what you should do— you feel so childish at the feeling of a lump forming in your throat, your heart racing against your chest as you begin to dread the feeling of your eyes stinging— in one last attempt to keep your composure, you sniffle, wiping at your eyes before you go back to your search, desperate to find the items as you pat the ground around you harshly.
“You’ll stab yourself with a rock if you keep doing that,” a voice above you says, and you’re scrambling to make yourself look put together and nonchalant as you raise your head to the sound; squinting, you wince at the bright light that shines at you, shielding your eyes from it as you find the face of the figure that speaks to you— Beomgyu’s expression is unreadable as he stares down at you, tilting his head as he waits for you to say something— after a while, he simply sighs, pointing his phone’s flashlight at the ground and coming to your side with slow steps.
“What happened,” he asks, although his voice is so distant and tense that it barely comes out as a question, “What’re you looking for?”
“My phone,” you mutter sheepishly, avoiding his gaze completely as you let him shine the ground around you with his light. It’s silent between you two, and you can’t help but be frustrated at how tense you’ve managed to make the atmosphere around you again— after what seems like forever, you’re finally able to spot your phone, scattered on the hill below as you carefully make your way to it.
Beomgyu finds it a bit odd that you’re reluctant to make your way back to him, shining your phone’s flashlight and pointing it to the ground around as you seemingly search for something else, despite your words that you’d only lost his phone. He’s taking a step toward you, about to call your name before he sees it— something shines in his peripheral vision, reacting to his phone’s light as he finds himself walking to it without much thought.
“The fireworks are starting soon,” Beomgyu says softly, his voice much closer than you expected as you find yourself turning to face him; his phone is put away, and the only things able to illuminate him are the remnants of the light from the lanterns that manage to reach the two of you and the fireflies that softly twinkle around him.
You slowly tuck your phone away in defeat; it’s much too embarrassing to admit what else you were looking for, gulping nervously as you glance back up the hill— you can see your friends in the very distance, their backs facing you as they remain huddled together— and back at him, unable to stop the way your lips part in shock, eyes widening as you find Beomgyu slowly handing something to you.
The pin is free of dirt as he holds it delicately in his hand, as though he were afraid to break it; you can’t help but notice the way his palm shakes as he waits for you to take it, letting out a slow exhale before he smiles bitterly.
“It’s pretty,” he says, lips pressed together as you take it from him. The small thank you that leaves your lips is awkward and forced, and Beomgyu thinks he might just burst as you immediately look away from him— he feels tormented as he waits for you to say something, anything, only to watch as you continue to ignore the elephant in the room.
Ten minutes. That’s all he has before your attention is taken by the pretty show that is about to begin, and Beomgyu will be damned if he doesn’t take this chance to confront you— to get things back to how they were before.
“Do you hate me?” His statement is strong enough to have you looking at him once more, eyes wide and scandalized as you uselessly attempt to stutter out a reply. Beomgyu licks his lips nervously as he backtracks, clearing his throat as he realizes that he may have started off a little too strong.
“Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong?” He attempts again, his mind racing and taking control of his mouth as he doesn’t allow you to respond, “You’ve been acting so cold to me recently, don’t think I haven’t noticed. Things have been weird since the… since the wedding thing.”
It seems as though that’s enough to have Beomgyu putting everything together, his brows knitting together in a frown as he realizes how he’s become more vulnerable around you— and how much you’ve pushed him away in retaliation.
“I’m sorry if it was weird. I didn’t mean to change things between us, I’d understand if it made you uncomfortable, but you’ve been acting so mean to me recently, and I can’t help but feel as though I’ve really crossed the line—“
It’s surprising to Beomgyu when he feels his words begin to stick in his mouth, stumbling over them and stuttering, repeating his points over and over as he realizes it’s all happening again. You’ve managed to catch him at a vulnerable time yet again, and he can feel his cheeks grow warm in frustration as he watches as you stand before him, unsure of what to say as he continues to pour his heart out to you.
“Beomgyu,” you say quietly, interrupting him with ease as he finds himself out of breath, sighing shakily as he watches the way you clutch the hairpin close to you, pausing for a second as you begin to think of what to say.
“I don’t… hate you,” you begin, your every word uncertain as though you were trying to figure the answer out yourself, “I’m not mad at you, either. And— and you didn’t cross any lines, nor do I find you weird— well, maybe a little, but…”
“But?” Beomgyu continues, finding himself unable to hold himself back as he urges you to continue, “You’ve been so— so avoidant, and it’s weird because you’ve made me feel as though I did something wrong—!”
“You didn’t do anything wrong Beomgyu!” You say, sighing in frustration as you take in the man before you— Beomgyu seems to be doing no better than you, but in this moment, you feel as though everything is finally coming together, the man in front of you reminding you of everything you’ve been dreaming of— of comfort, of home, of love.
Choi Beomgyu is the type of guy who is brutally honest. He’s the type of person who will ridicule you and poke fun at you in order to get a reaction, to act like a child and throw tantrums in order to get his way and bat his eyes innocently when accused. He’s the type of person that will have you wondering if he’s really in his twenties, and isn’t actually three children hiding under a trenchcoat.
Choi Beomgyu is the type of guy who will show up unannounced, who will find you no matter how far and force you to eat because he figured out that you’ve been cooped inside all day. He’s the type of guy that loses fights on purpose, who will cling to you like a baby under the pretense that he’s only doing it to be annoying. He’s the type of person that will sneak compliments at the most inconvenient times, who will put a blanket over your shoulders and move your head when you’re asleep because he knows how much your neck will ache if you leave it in a certain position.
Choi Beomgyu has loved you quietly— in his everyday actions, treating it like second nature as he cares for you in secret— through his words, through his thoughts, and through his eyes that manage to spill enough emotions that leave you speechless.
Choi Beomgyu is the type of person who will always be vulnerable to you, no matter how dangerous; even if it means you pushing him away again, he grits his teeth and stands before you, baring his heart and asking you to take care of it the way he’s taken care of yours.
“You wouldn’t even look at me,” He says, taking a step closer to you as his voice drops significantly; he’s hesitant, afraid to hear your response as he attempts to keep his gaze cold.
“Why are you being like this?” His voice is hurt and angry, and you can’t help the way everything seems to bubble up and spill out of you uncontrollably the moment he grows defensive again.
“It’s because I like you, dumbass!” The words are a confession to both him and yourself as you finally let it out— the words feel new and strange in your mouth, your tongue testing everything out as you take in the way the sentence leaves a taste behind it— it tastes sweet.
“I like you and it’s weird because it’s all so new, I didn’t think I’d ever feel like this about you and I’m scared because…” you huff, brows furrowing as you take a second to think; Why were you scared?
“Because… I don’t know,” you admit, shoulder sagging as you take in the way Beomgyu can simply stare at you, waiting for you to finish, “I don’t know. I like you and I’m afraid, this is all so new and I thought that if I tried to push these feelings away, it’d all go back to normal, because I was afraid that you’d… that you wouldn’t feel the same.”
Afraid you’d be wrong. Afraid you’d get hurt again, that you managed to interpret all his actions wrong and would simply be getting your hopes up— afraid that you’d hurt him, even though you already have.
“Afraid I wouldn’t feel the same?” He echoes, his voice laced with disbelief as he practically breathes the words out— he feels out of breath, his heart pounding against his chest as his mind begins to process everything you told him— I like you, dumbass, your voice remains on his mind like a broken record, and he can’t help the way he laughs softly, in disbelief as he realizes how stupid this whole argument has been.
“I’ve— I’m the one who should be saying that,” he says, running a hand through his hair before he’s laughing again— then again, and again until it’s all an uncontrollable mess, his eyes creasing and his nose scrunching as he takes in your befuddled expression; you stand frozen before him, incredulous as you wonder how you should respond to a reaction like this.
“I knew you were a bit stupid, but this is just too much,” he teases you, throwing you off guard so much that you slap his arm like instinct; it’s enough to have you snapping out of your heartfelt moment as you pout at him, scolding him for being so mean and ruining what was supposed to be something serious.
Beomgyu is the type to be eerily attuned to a person’s emotions; which is exactly why he chooses to be childish now, when he saw the way your eyes shone with tears and you became shaky as you waited for him to respond, able to get your mind off your irrational fears as you immediately went back to your pouty, whiny self.
You’re so fucking mean, you cry out, smacking him again before he takes your hand; pulling you closer, he smiles, his eyes filled with mischief as he takes in the way you quickly fluster from his proximity.
Beomgyu smells of spring and comfort, his hands warm against your skin as he cups your face gently; you can’t control the way you gulp at his actions, his eyes lighting up as he waits for you to do something— to pull away, to shut him out, anything that could stop the dangerous path his mind is taking— but you don’t, your hand that remained a fist against his chest slowly pressing against it, shaking and firm as you attempt to steady yourself; in turn, you feel his heart, fast and thundering against your palm as you find yourself getting closer to him; close enough to watch the way his hair falls into his eyes, close enough to count every individual lash on his lids that flutter shut, and close enough to feel his lips against yours.
He tastes of honey and the cherry lip balm he always uses, his kiss sweet and unsure as you feel his pillowy lips move against yours; you think you might just melt into him as he pulls you closer, his other hand grasping firmly at your waist before he’s tugging you in closer— chest against chest, trying to feel you wholly as though you’d disappear into thin air the next second— and he tilts his head curiously, deepening the kiss and refusing to pull away even if his lungs begin to burn.
Beomgyu thinks he could stay this way forever; he holds you delicately, as though he were afraid to lose you at any moment, the feeling of your warm palm pressing against his heart the only reminder that he’s alive— yes, he’s alive. This is real, and he finally has you here with him, able to love you as loudly as he wants, if you’ll let him.
And of course you’ll let him— you feel curious as you allow your hands to explore, to run across his shoulders and lace themselves in his hair, able to feel the soft locks that have been blowing about freely all night long— you feel curious to explore these new feelings, letting them in and allowing them to blossom as you finally pull away.
Beomgyu laughs the moment you pull away— because you only do so from the loud sounds of fireworks in the distance, jolting in his hold as you turn around to find the source of the sound; your face is lighting up at the pretty lights, a smile growing on your face as you take it all in.
“So pretty,” you sigh out, looking back at Beomgyu, only to find him already staring at you; you smile shyly as you feel him take in the pin from your hands, reaching up hesitantly before you’re guiding him in his actions; you carefully clip in the hairpin as you smile, watching the way he takes you in carefully— his eyes are fond and sweet as he nods, caressing your cheek before he grins.
“Very pretty.”
You scoff at his response, rolling your eyes before you’re poking fun at how predictable he is— but Beomgyu doesn’t care, and he would do it again, anything to watch as you laugh with joy, growing shy under his gaze as he realizes he’s staring again— but this time, he doesn’t feel forced to look away.
Neither do you. You allow yourself to meet his gaze, uncertain and giddy as you allow yourself to feel everything you’ve tried to hide, to think about everything you’ve tried to ignore. Reaching in your pocket, you pull out the second hairpin you picked, carefully reaching up to brush his bangs out of his eyes; they flutter shut at the action, and you can’t help but smile at how peaceful he looks, his face lit up in every which color as the firework show continues behind you.
“There,” you say after a moment, watching as Beomgyu slowly opens his eyes before he’s reaching for the accessory you’ve put in— you smile as you watch him run his fingers over the design, the same flowers that decorate your pin as you watch the realization dawn on him.
“So pretty,” you say again, and Beomgyu can’t help but smile as you keep your eyes on him— unable to look away, even if it means you’ll miss the mesmerizing fireworks that continue to light up behind you.
As Beomgyu laces his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand tightly before he’s gently telling you to turn around so you can watch the show together, he wonders if any daydream he’s concocted could ever compare to the real thing; he knows that answer is no, not with the way you still can’t help yourself as you glance at him every once in a while, your eyes wide and alight as you look at him as though he were your whole world— he feels as though he could melt with every glance, his heart beating faster as he realizes that he’ll no longer have to daydream.
He’ll no longer have to love you quietly, biting his tongue at the thought as he fights back a delirious smile— pulling you into him, he feels the way you’re quick to embrace him, inhaling deeply before you’re letting out a sigh of contentment.
Your love, your comfort, your home— Choi Beomgyu has been all of it, and you’re more than ready to reciprocate it all as you hold him a little tighter— taking his heart into your hands, with the quiet promise that you’ll care for him just as he always has for you.
Are you gonna continue like when we first met, i hate you and i love you? I'm really looking forward to a second part (sorry if it sounds like I'm trying to rush you). Also wanted to say I love the way you write. Your writing makes me feel like I'm truly there. Your vocabulary is really amazing. Keep up the good work and I love your stories.
Hi, sorry to respond after a long time. To be one hundred percent honest, I'm not sure if there will be a sequel. Writing has been difficult for me lately. I feel disconnected from even the most everyday aspects of my life. But I will truly strive to overcome this and get back to writing, this or anything, but I know I will at some point. Thanks for your interest, I send you a hug<33
Since I found your profile, my days have become more colorful. I love your writing, you are very talented.✨ What's your favorite TXT album?😃
Sorry for any mistakes, I'm not a native English speaker. Say hi to Brazil!😸
Olá, olá, olá. This is so nice, thank you so much <333 I don't think I can pick just one, but I have a special attachment to Magic, Fight or escape and Freefall. Greetings to the great and beautiful Brazil!!!
Bestie... my days with you.. THAT WAS SO GOOD OH EM GEEE IM SO FLABBERGASTED RN STAWPPP IT LIKE PUNCHED MY HEART AND MY MOUTH IS JUST DROPPED- THAT WAS SO GOODDDDD I WISH YOU COULD HEAR ME SCREAMING RN KUDOS TO YOU HOLY
Oww, thank you so much for reading, I'm so glad you liked it and I really appreciate your sweet comment<333
୨୧ genre: fluff/comfort
୨୧ word count: 4.4k
୨୧ summary: after having a crush on your best friend for months, you have a silly, very silly, confession of feelings.
୨୧ a/n: truth be told, this is a little silly, and cheesy, but I wanted needed to write something that felt easy and refreshing. it's a little longer than i originally thought it would be, but it was fun. hope you like it, have a nice day:))
You liked Beomgyu. You liked him because of the way his eyes sparkled when he hummed his favorite song while doing the dishes, when he collapsed on the bed after an endless list of complaints about how tired he was, or when he spoke with overflowing emotion about the things he liked. You liked him because you found in him a kind of gentleness that you didn't find in the rest of the world, that you didn't think you could get from a man. And the amazing thing is that he was a man, but when you were with him, it was as if you saw the world through the eyes of a child. Eyes that saw happiness and didn't twist it, but made it bigger, spread it out and expanded it until those eyes - brown and deep and enchantingly beautiful - were the last thing left.
Perhaps you were in love with one of your closest friends. Or maybe you were just in the right place.
This thought was even harder to resolve when you arrived at your parents' house that Sunday afternoon, having checked off every single item on your mother's shopping list. You had only been out shopping for an hour, but it was as if you were returning home for the first time after the days out of town you had left behind. You didn't even know when you'd left the bags of groceries at the front door, or when you'd turned back to the garden to see that beaming smile with the wrinkles in the cheeks, let alone when your voice, shaky and too anxious for your taste, uttered an embarrassed "hey".
Beomgyu, who until then had been laughing at a ridiculous joke he had shared with your father, turned to look at you with an enchanting calm that could only be found on a beach at sunset, when the moon was doing its thing and the tide was ebbing in deep, sentimental sighs. The boy seemed to see something you couldn't define on your face, for his smile shrank to a soft, almost shy line.
You didn't take your attention off your face as he approached, hands hidden behind his back, and stopped in front of you. Despite your father's loud voice, the mischievous laughter of your younger siblings, and your mother's scolding of the dog to keep it away from the meat ready for roasting, the only thing you found yourself paying attention to was the disturbingly fast beating of your heart.
"Hey," you repeated, no less awkwardly. "What is this, I travel for a few weeks and suddenly my family has already adopted you?"
Beomgyu kept his shy smile and leaned against one of the wooden boards of the porch for a moment. His checkered shirt billowed slightly in the soft summer breeze.
"I think it's your father who decided to adopt me. He says I'm the exact representation of his youth: charming, talented, and outrageously beautiful."
"I think he says that to every young person he meets."
"Are you saying I shouldn't believe him?"
You didn't know when you started smiling, but your cheeks were sure to hurt if you didn't relax the muscles in your face soon.
"No, I'm just saying my father talks too much."
"A sincere and open man, I like him."
"As sincere as a politician in an election debate."
Beomgyu laughed and looked out into the garden, where your father was still sitting in a folding chair with a scowl on his face, trying to light the wood-burning barbecue. In a measured, polite voice that you didn't know he could have and that almost made you want to mock him, Beomgyu offered to help; but when your father looked up and - in the most millennial, bland way possible - gave him a thumbs-up before shouting a friendly "I've got it under control, son," for some stupid, irrational, and probably childish reason, you blushed. You blushed badly.
What the hell, since when did your father call Beomgyu "son"? And since when did your family normally invite one of your friends to join them on Burger Sunday? Was that your mother putting another plate on the table? Was that what Beomgyu did while you were away? Eat your burger in your place?
Beomgyu seemed to read the thoughts embodied in your expression very well, because he laughed softly and lifted a shoulder with an unseemly shyness. Surely, that's how you had captivated them all.
You little harpy.
And yet, to see him as vibrant and jovial as when you left was like a Band-Aid that lightened the burden of stress you'd endured these past few days. When you arrived in town last Thursday night, the first thing you thought of was to look for him, but the idiot had gotten sick from drinking bad milk and had begged you not to visit him until his diarrhea was over. He hadn't texted you since the night before, and you were beginning to think he'd dropped his phone in the toilet during one of his diarrhea attacks, but what you didn't expect was to find him at your house on your way home from the supermarket, nor did you expect to feel the way you felt: nervous, with words thought but never spoken, with desires intensified but more terrifying than ever.
"So... how was the convention that starved you for almost a month?"
You looked up as your younger brother ran past you, the dog not far behind. Before reaching the short stairs that led into the house, Beomgyu scooped your brother up in his arms and spun him around in the air before setting him down and encouraging him back to where your parents were. Your brother ran off with the dog behind him.
You blinked.
"It was a month of physical pain. I didn't know what an international accounting convention would be like until I went to one. I thought it would be like the boring lectures we had in high school and college, but apparently businessmen have fun with taxes and returns."
Beomgyu snorted in amusement and shoved his hands into his pants pockets as he turned to lean against the railing, looking you in the eye with that sweet smile of his.
"I missed you."
"Oh, did you?" you asked, keeping a neutral expression on your face as you raised an eyebrow. Despite your coolness, it wasn't hard to notice a slight blush spreading across your cheeks. It wasn't that you had been away from him for a long time, you had been apart for months at other times, but there was something different about his words this time that made you wonder if he really missed you or if he missed you the way you felt.
"Is that why you snuck into my house as an undercover usurper?"
"See, I've been taking over your family members one by one," he said with mock seriousness as he gave you an exaggerated look. But then the mischievous smile returned to his face, and he took a step closer. "What's the matter with you, aren't you going to confess that you missed me, that you were writhing in agony without my presence?"
"You've been texting me almost every day for the past three weeks, Beomgyu. I don't know how I could have missed you."
Her lips curled into a pout of indignation as she frowned. You noticed that one of his hands was on the railing, inches from yours. "That's really cruel. He was really unhappy."
"Right, how's your diarrhea?"
"Uhmm," he hummed, and from a distance you could tell he was trying to maintain a disinterested expression as he looked away. "I'm a feisty guy, you know? A diet based on soda crackers and oral electrolytes and puf, good as new. Why, are you going to make fun of me? Because let me tell you, you won't make me suffer as much as Yeonjun and Soobin already have."
"Diarrhea teasing is not my strong point."
Beomgyu let out a gasping, feigned sigh and placed his right hand over his heart, his eyes dramatically wide. "Is this empathy real, is it possible you'll come back a little softer?"
You snorted and shook your head. You couldn't remember when last summer had been like this: quiet conversations, laughter, and a silence that seemed somehow comfortable even when tension was building between you. You had forgotten the ease that had always existed between the two of you. You used to hate these months of excessive heat and aimless days, but ever since you met Beomgyu, you begged for every chance to laugh together, no matter the season.
"I'm not going to laugh," you said, lowering your eyes to your hands. You were about to say something else, but the words died in your mouth as he moved even closer, sliding his hand over yours on the railing.
You nearly choked on your own saliva. God, why did you get so nervous, didn't you just talk about diarrhea a few seconds ago?
You said nothing, and neither did he, but you watched his cautious, anxious expression before looking down again at your joined hands with his hand: yours flattened against the light wood, covered by his slender fingers and the soft, delicate pads of his thumbs, almost always rough and calloused from constant use of his guitar. His hand was warm, and you felt your heart flutter as he ran his thumb over the knuckles of your hand. It was a gentle, casual, maybe even innocent gesture, but it felt like a million fireworks on the skin of your hand.
"I... I thought about you while I was away."
He didn't answer, he just turned to look at you, and you couldn't help but feel your heart beat faster when you saw the look on his face. His smile was still there, but it had changed, it had become softer, and you felt like it was the only thing you could hold onto to keep from blurting out the pile of words that had begun to form on the tip of your tongue.
"It's stupid, isn't it?" you added, trying not to notice the butterflies fluttering in your stomach as his fingers brushed harder against yours, as if encouraging you to speak, to spit out the words before they bloated your stomach and turned you into a useless ball of desire and... God, weren't those lips so beautiful? "I've missed you. I've missed you all week."
"All month?" He corrected quietly, and you just rolled your eyes as you tilted your head toward the floor and kicked an invisible rock.
"I guess I miss you every day since I met you."
Even though you saw his smile widen out of the corner of your eye, he didn't respond right away, and that made the knot of apprehension in your chest grow. However, the wave of fear dissipated as soon as it came. His thumb was right on your pulse, probably sensing the way it had quickened for him. His touch was tender, nothing more than the gentle pressure of his thumb against your skin, but you were so mesmerized by the soft gesture that you barely noticed when he took a step closer, his body so close to yours that it was as if you were enveloped in the soft scent of his cologne. It felt like a secret moment, the way that even with your whole family gathered around the grill preparing dinner and the two of you, separated by the noise, just a few feet away, you didn't seem to notice anything but each other's presence.
"Tell me more about it." His voice was lower, softer, sending shivers down your spine.
"You want me to talk about how I missed you?"
He bit his lip as he gave you a mischievous, perhaps very silly smile and... No, it definitely wasn't the smile of someone who wanted to grab your heart and run away, was it? Because, hell, it felt like that.
You forced yourself to look away from his lips. Nothing could make you stupider. Nothing could make you freak out more. You had to avoid them, avoid the madness. But it was in vain, a deluded attempt to escape the traps of your heart, because just as you looked into his eyes, he dropped his gaze to your mouth for a moment, and you were convinced he could feel your pulse fluttering under his thumb. He took another step. Now he was close enough to push your back against the railing, his hand fully clenched over yours, and his eyes lost on your lips, begging you to speak up and do something stupid.
And so you did.
"I... I can tell you how I think of you when I see something funny. Or something frighteningly beautiful. Like those pink sunrises we barely see if we're not lazy and stay in bed till noon. Or two cats curled up on the sidewalk. Not that I want to cuddle with you, mind you... Well, it's not that I don't want to. The point is, cats are cute. Like you."
With a grimace, you paused to take it in and then forced yourself to pretend you hadn't said that. But you were strong, and you didn't let yourself stop, because you had already screwed up, and you knew that if you didn't say those words right then, you could never say them again.
"Today I was surprised to see you with my father, laughing and joking, when my father doesn't laugh with any boy who is related to me. Then I was even more surprised that it felt so intimate, so familiar, so close. I don't know if it was like one of those equations that I know at first glance will make me lose my mind and want to give up life at the slightest attempt to solve it, or one of those formulas that, even unsolved, look like one of the most beautiful in the mathematical world. Yes, I... I just made a metaphor using the words "beautiful" and "mathematical" in the same sentence. Okay, okay, stop laughing. It's just... You laughing with my father, what a disaster. What a disaster to realize that every aspect of my life likes you and what a disaster that every aspect of my life clings to you so much. I think that's why I miss you even when we're close. I don't want there to be any distance between us.
There it was, you said it. Done. Now you could breathe. Now your heart could relax a little, take a blanket and wait for the rainbow or the misfortune. It could go get a bunch of duct tape and Band-Aids or get naked and pole dance around an artery. It could get a funeral box or start believing that it's immortal. And it all depended on the guy in front of you.
Beomgyu's gaze was soft, as soft and gentle as the scenarios that automatically began to form in your head when you saw the mixture of surprise and tenderness that ran through his expression when you finished speaking. He looked down at his hands clasped against yours and exhaled a laugh that came out a little shaky. Then he returned to your gaze and stood there, silently studying you.
"I want to answer you," he whispered, "but I want to make sure I find the right words.
Idiot.
You tried very hard to keep a serene expression on your face, as if your world wasn't hanging by a thread. Then he did something you'd never seen before: he swallowed spit, his gaze sliding down to linger on your lips for a moment before returning to your eyes and swallowing again. "Wait a minute," he said hoarsely.
Without warning, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing against the railing as you struggled to catch your breath.What the hell had that been? You watched as he walked over to the garden table, grabbed a soda, then walked back over to you and leaned against the railing next to you.
He cleared his throat, took a sip, then looked back at you.
"Are you kidding me?" there was a mix of emotions in your voice, amusement, confusion, embarrassment, insecurity, indignation..., the urge to grab the soda can from him and bash his head with it.
Beomgyu blinked, seemingly surprised by your statement, then laughed, his mouth twisting into a smile that felt like a prize.
"What?" he asked, his eyes flashing. You tightened your mouth and he laughed even harder. "I can't believe you just said that!"
"What an asshole," you muttered, nudging his side.
He laughed, but his arms shot out to hold you, just as your nudge knocked him off balance for a moment. His hands wrapped around your arms and he straightened up, but he didn't let go of you or wipe that goofy grin off his face. You struggled to keep up the gesture of annoyance, though it didn't work very well when he pulled you to him.
"I... I'm actually pretty nervous."
His gaze had dropped to your mouth again, and when it came back up to meet your eyes, he bit his lip. His gaze was intense, as if he was struggling to find the right words to say whatever it was he was thinking. He let go of your arms to lean against the railing next to you, keeping his distance so close that your shoulder was trapped between his right arm and his side.
"I want to kiss you, but your dad is right behind me and I'm afraid he'll leave me without a burger," he joked, but his laugh came out too quickly and you realized he was really nervous. His gaze landed on your mouth again and he held it there for what seemed like an eternity before he let out a loud breath and closed his eyes. You were still processing the fact that the words "I want to kiss you" had just come out of his mouth.
"I'm sure you can live without a hamburger, Beomgyu."
His gaze returned to your mouth and your heart skipped a beat as he came even closer. Now he was so close you could feel his breath caressing your lips as he brought his hand to your waist to pull you even closer, and his lips - so soft, so tantalizing, and so agonizingly close to yours - parted and they were about to say something when suddenly your father's voice boomed across the yard.
"Hey, guys," he said in a hoarse voice. "Dinner's almost ready."
The sound of his voice made you jump, and you were surprised at how quickly Beomgyu turned away, taking several steps back and moving as far away from you as possible. His face was red and he held his arms carefully at his sides as your father looked up at the two of you.
"Is everything okay here? You two looked very... lovey-dovey," your father joked, his eyes narrowing as he watched both of your reddened faces and Beomgyu desperately trying to act normal.
"Eh-" Beomgyu opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. He opened and closed his mouth as if he was struggling to come up with an excuse. Your father, who was now smiling broadly, looked from Beomgyu to you and back to Beomgyu, who was still struggling. "Sir, I am in love with your daughter."
His unplanned statement came out in a rush, and your face quickly turned to him, mouth agape. He was also surprised by his own words, his eyes widened even more and he now looked at you in disbelief, his lips parted slightly as he processed what he had said. My goodness...
Your father had dropped the lid of the grill, your mother had stopped making the salad, and your brothers had stopped torturing the dog to look at you and Beomgyu. There was silence; no one moved or said anything. For a moment there was only the humming of the grill and the whisper of an occasional breeze. You were sure that Beomgyu could hear your heart beating in your chest and you were sure that you could hear it when he swallowed spit. He was so red, so shocked, that you thought he would faint right there, or run out first and then pass out in front of your house.
"Gee, well." After a long silence, your father nodded and added, "I'm sure dinner will be a long one."
You wondered if the seriousness in his tone was real.
Beomgyu shivered like a tired old oak leaf. Your mother shook her head, struggling to keep a smile from peeking out of her lips. Your siblings, like you, just stared at him, eyes wide.
Your father broke the second silence by clearing his throat and tapping the lid of the grill.
"I think the burgers are ready."
Before you could find the stability to move towards your family, Beomgyu's hand wrapped around your arm and his eyes, now wide and ridiculously expressive, shouted the words you had been waiting for.
"Listen."
"Yes?"
"I... I... It slipped out of my mouth."
"I know." Oh, God. No. You didn't know. You didn't know anything. You weren't thinking clearly. Your heart had eloped to a party and your brain had followed.
"Your dad likes me, look, it doesn't look like he's going to let me go without a burger."
"Beomgyu, I..."
"Listen," he repeated, and you would have told him to lower his voice if you hadn't seen his determination. "If your father banishes me from your house and I don't survive the heartbreak to tell you, I want you to know that I've been thinking about you all this time, every day, at all hours; especially in the morning, which is why every day starts out well now and is all happy and pretty and cheesy and all that. You're so... so fucking cute and distracting, which is why you saw me with my shirt on backwards the other day, which also explains the toothpaste stain on my sweater; oh! And the different colored socks. I didn't know that... This, that... you know, yeah... Love made people so clumsy and clueless, but now I know that if I get hit by a tricycle going three miles an hour, it will be because I was thinking of you”.
He was still talking, the words coming out of him as fast as the stream of water coming out of the hose one of your brothers was using to wash a sausage he had dropped on the floor. You just stood there, mouth agape, struggling to take in and process all those words.
"And just a moment ago I was so excited, so high, such an idiot for what you said to me, I can't believe I almost left without telling you, because I've been wanting to tell you forever. I don't know if it was those beautiful cheeks that I want to cradle and pull and pinch and bite all the time, or if it was the way your lashes whispered romantic tales and happy endings to me. I... I don't know how you did it, or what seductive trick you used to trap me, but you can take as much from me as you want; I don't know how much I have, only that I was empty until you came”.
Beomgyu finished, paused for a moment, and then smiled and shrugged, such an adorable and nervous and yet ridiculous and funny gesture. "Well, that... that's it."
There was no air in your lungs. Your heart, which had come back drunk, racing and out of breath, was beating so fast that you couldn't think of anything but the deafening sound it was making in your chest. One, two, three minutes passed and you still hadn't regained your mobility. Beomgyu inhaled sharply, shrugged again, and gestured to the table where the rest of your family was already sitting, looking at you, trying to pretend they weren't listening.
"I think they're all waiting for us to eat."
Fortunately, he made the decision for you and took your hand to lead you to the table. You still had your eyes fixed on him and your mouth hanging open as he led you to your seat. You sat down and your trembling legs were grateful, but your hand felt empty, sweaty and scared when it came away from his.
Beomgyu cleared his throat, blushed at the sight of you and murmured, "I'll be back in a minute, okay?" Then he left, mumbling something about going to the bathroom.
Your father looked at you as if he expected you to say something, but he must have seen the embarrassment and confusion on your face, because he then turned to your mother. "Did you understand him? I didn't understand him."
Your mother laughed. "I love that boy, but God, he talks fast."
"He wants to bite her cheeks," said one of your siblings.
"And pinch them." Said the other.
Your father nearly choked on his soda, and you nearly fell out of your chair.
"What? What is he talking about?"
"He wants to bite her!" your younger brother nearly howled with laughter. "He's always talking about biting her cheeks."
"And pinching them."
You covered your face with your hands and grinned like a fool. You didn't mind the dozens of questions your father asked and the teasing of your siblings; you looked at your mother's smile, full of peace, hope, promised laughter and dreams to be fulfilled, and you admitted to yourself that the days with Beomgyu would always carry a load of happiness that was capable of subtracting the importance of everything else.
At the same time, Beomgyu was leaning against the wall and facing the closed bathroom door, trying to sort out his thoughts. As he stood in front of you, the words came out of him so fast that he didn't even have time to realize how hasty and awkward his statement was. He felt exposed, vulnerable, he needed a moment or two or many to recover, but he was undeniably happy.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, thinking of you and laughing for no reason.
i just read like when we first met, i hate you and i love you. and,,, i love your writing so much. it was so heartfelt and you can tell how much work went into it. so. formal bow full of praise.
ALSO I SAW YOU HAVE A SPANISH MASTERLIST. SPANISH IS MY NATIVE LANGUAGE TOO do u wanna hold hands
Omg, you're going to kill me tysm 😭😭. I am always happy to know when someone enjoys what I write and it really means a lot to me. AHHHH compañero hispanohablante, que cosa tan agradable. Muchas graciaaas. Apretón de manos y un abrazo<33
୨୧ genre: smut, angust
୨୧ warning: sex, nudity, infidelity, masturbation, etc. minors pls don’t interact
୨୧ a/n: inglish is not my native language, so sorry in advance.
It was forbidden, you knew. There was only one step between temptation and prudence, and you had already begun to run in the wrong direction. Maybe you were blinded, maybe what condemned you to crawl and feed on the shame of the ground was nothing more than a double-edged sword that caressed you on a magical layer of relief; but once you crossed the line, what could you do but let your naked emotions take all they wanted?
It was after twelve, the warmth of the night enveloping you under your sheets and adding a touch of desperation to your thoughts, leaving you in a more vulnerable position than ever. A dizzy sensation gripped you as you heard the bedroom door open, you didn't need to turn around to know who it was, you knew it wasn't your boyfriend's feet you heard moving towards your bed.
"Beomgyu," you whispered his name in the middle of the darkness, not sure if you were awake or somewhere in the back of your mind.
You shivered as you felt his closeness, the moment he sat down next to you and his skin burned against yours, you felt far away in that place, lost in another reality, one where the desire that began to grow in that particular place in your body didn't hurt the way it did but soothed and released and you could express it so strongly that you removed any barrier between earth and heaven.
Your voice broke as you said her name again. You could hear his heavy breathing and the creaking of the mattress beneath his body. Your skin bristled as you felt his fingers on one of your arms, moving them in a delicate and almost superficial caress whose purpose seemed to be to find the warmest place to take refuge. Each of his movements flooded your deepest thoughts, making you lose your mind and plunging you into a kind of madness.
Yeonjun, who slept drunk on the couch in the living room, disappeared along with your reasoning. There was only one understandable word in your mind, the one you were willing to utter to the point of exhaustion if it would free you from the suffocating weight in your body.
"Please..."
Beomgyu groaned when he heard you and pressed his chest against your back until there was not an inch between you. You clutched the sheets tightly, as if that would keep you from falling off the huge cliff you were teetering on.
"What are you doing to me?" you could feel the agony in his voice, heartbreaking and pleading. His breath crashed harder against the back of your neck and his fingers moved over the skin of your stomach, asking for permission before slipping under the fabric of your underwear.
You closed your eyes tightly as his fingers parted your folds and pressed your sensitive pleasure button. Like a dragon spewing fire, they pressed, twisted and moved down until they were lost inside you. Everything else disappeared and you were lost in their embrace. Excitement and passion were all around you, desire coursing through you, driving you to new heights as if nothing else could exist. You wanted to call his name again, to exhale his name as if begging for mercy, to scream at him to stop, and then to beg him to touch you to the point of exhaustion, until the darkness faded and all your vulnerabilities were exposed before his eyes.
With a speed that made even your most steadfast thoughts tremble, Beomgyu placed his other hand around your neck and used his thumb to draw circles on your skin.
"That feels so good," he exhaled as he played with the wetness of your crotch and the trembling caused by the exploration of his fingers. They moved in and out of you at a heartbreakingly slow pace, as if he was searching for your darkest secret and didn't want to miss any details.
You bit your lower lip to stifle a moan and arched your back to feel the hardness of his body as he touched you. You felt the electricity in the air, you felt it as he held you, his breath on your neck and his hands on your body. You could feel it all, it was so real, so raw. You were filled with excitement and an almost insatiable hunger.
"Please, please, please..." You leaned your head into his chest until your eyes met his. Beomgyu shivered at the eye contact and responded by sinking his fingers deeper into you.
"You have me, sweetheart. Ask me for anything you want," he murmured next to your ear.
You were so lost, you had never felt so good. You wanted him, even though it was terribly wrong and leading you to your impending doom, even though the man who was touching you was not the one who should be touching you, and the name you found yourself moaning was not the one you should be saying.
And as a result of loving the wrong man, you let shame stain the sheets that warmed you.
it’s confession day and you want nothing more than to receive a crush from your longtime friend, beomgyu.
pairing ⸝⸝⸝ choi beomgyu x fem!reader
𓄷 iηcℓudᥱs 𓈓 yeonjun, soobin, and yeji from itzy
genre﹙📄﹚⸝⸝⸝ toothrotting fluff, friends to lovers, mutual pining but you both are oblivious, highschool au ???
kipo’s note ⸝⸝⸝ literally watched beomgyu’s cover and music video and was struck by sudden inspiration and motivation and i just had to write something based off it! ❀ so here is a super cute little drabble in honor of beomgyu’s cover, i hope you enjoy!!
all feedback and reblogs are welcome! ♡
∿ [ 1.7k ] ⋆ [ continue on to . . . masterlist ]
today was a day you both loved and absolutely hated—confession day. the day where you confess your feelings to the one who you like most.
the hallways were giddy with excitement and you couldn’t help being lured to the feeling. everyone was alight with what the day could possibly behold. as you made your way to your locker to put your bag away, you heard various snippets of conversations:
“i’m scared to open my locker! what if there isn’t any note inside?”
“—and he wrote for me to meet him on the football field after school!”
“who do you think yeonjun will confess to? i heard from hana that he was eying her, but mina said the same thing!”
“well i heard hana say that jake was going to confess to her today on the rooftop!”
“—to meet near the school gates!”
a soft smile made its way onto your lips. confession day—at least the start of it—was always one that made you happy inside. you loved seeing other people finally confess their feelings to to each other. it was also fun for you and your friends to make bets on who would confess to who.
just as you reached for the lock of your locker, you friend yeji ran up to you with a thrilled expression, her black hair flying into her face as she came to a sudden stop. “it’s confession day!” she squealed repeatedly, brushing her hair out of her face and linking her arm with yours once you got your books out. “who do you think will confess to who later today?”
“apparently hana has many suitors,” you shrugged and the two of you giggled slightly as you walked the halls slowly to your homeroom. suddenly yeji turned to you, a playful grin lighting up her face with a scrunched nose. oh god, you thought, what is she about to say?
she tickled your side, making you squirm away with a laugh. “do you think beomgyu is going to confess to you today?” she asked. you swatted her hand away, heat creeping up your neck as you looked forward to try and hide how flustered the question made you. you shrugged again, hopeful smile curling your lips.
beomgyu sat at his desk surrounded by his two friends, yeonjun and soobin. he shifted a sealed envelope from hand to hand, “to y/n” written on it. the red striped tie and dark blue blazer of his uniform suddenly seemed so constricting. “—and tell me exactly what you wrote in the letter,” he heard the tail end of yeonjun’s sentence.
beomgyu had already told soobin just minutes prior and he sighed softly as he dragged his eyes up from the letter. nerves flowed through him as he recounted the letter again for yeonjun.
dear, y/n
would you meet me under the cherry blossom tree by the train tracks after school?
beomgyu
it was a very simple letter, really. beomgyu had wanted to give his confession in person to you rather than through a letter or any other means. yeonjun’s face contorted in thought. “maybe spice it up a little?” he suggested.
“i like it. it’s simple and right to the point. besides, he said he wants to confess in person,” soobin cut in before beomgyu could. yeonjun hummed before nodding slowly. “i guess it could work!”
just as yeonjun finished talking, the homeroom door opened. you and your friend—yeji, who he’s come to know of—stepped through; arms linked as you leaned into each other to whisper something he couldn’t hear. a low laugh emitted from you and beomgyu swore it was the prettiest, most melodic thing he has ever heard.
the sunlight from the open blinds of the classroom cascaded down onto your frame, illuminating you like you were on a stage. beomgyu just couldn’t believe how pretty you were. your eyes connected with his, that bright smile of yours still on your face, and you waved your hand slightly to wave at him. your bright smile turned sheepish as you quickly looked away and you and yeji made it to your seats.
from just one look, beomgyu could practically see your future together. he wanted to be yours and you to be his so desperately. he wanted to do simple day to day activities with you, like helping you with homework and putting your books into your locker. he wanted to take you to the movies and talk about what you decided to see and walk you home after, fingers just barely brushing past each other. you were just so cute.
“look at him, there’s literally hearts in his eyes,” beomgyu distantly heard yeonjun say. his eyes were still on you until fingers snapped in his face, startling him back to reality. soobin pulled back his arm with a laugh and beomgyu rolled his eyes. he glanced back to you briefly, small smile forming on his face before returning his attention back to his friends.
beomgyu looked down again at the letter in his hands. he had meant to put it in your locker this morning before you arrived, but chickened out at the last second. that’s why he was here, enlisting the help of his two idiot bestfriends to ensure everything goes off without a hitch.
soobin laid a hand on beomgyu’s shoulder and patted it comfortingly, “you got this, man! it’s so obvious that the two of you like each other!” yeonjun nodded in agreement. beomgyu sighed and tucked the letter under his books. he hesitantly let their words fill him with confidence and hope. i really hope she does, he thought.
you turned slightly and looked over your shoulder, just barely catching a glimpse of beomgyu. you turned back towards yeji with a lovesick smile. “it’ll happen, don’t worry! it’s so obvious that the two of you like each other!” yeji comforted you. you just sighed and directed the conversation to a different topic. i really hope he does, you thought.
when you were grabbing your bag from your locker, mid conversation with yeji, a small white envelope fluttered to the ground at your feet. yeji gasped as you bent to pick it up with wide eyes. yeji drew closer to you, hiding the letter from the view of the other students making their way towards the entrance of the school. “open it, open it!” she exclaimed.
with a deep breath you carefully opened the envelope that had “to y/n” written on it in familiar handwriting. carefully you opened up the delicate letter and read the contents, yeji beside you taking in every word as well. you froze in shock for a split second before a wide smile broke out onto your face and it took everything in you to keep from jumping up and down.
“he wants me to meet him under the cherry blossom tree by the train tracks…” you breathed lowly, shock still reeling you. you repeated yourself, each word getting louder as you turned and grasped yeji’s hands with excitement and almost crinkling the letter, “he wants me to meet him under the cherry blossom tree by the train tracks!”
you had gathered the attention of the students walking by and heat suddenly spread across your face and immediately calmed you down. unfortunately, just as you shrunk into your locker, your eyes briefly connected with beomgyu’s bestfriend and resident golden boy of your school—choi yeonjun.
he looked in your direction and you just barely managed to catch the smile he gave to beomgyu’s other bestfriend—choi soobin—and the words forming from his lips.
your grip on yeji’s hands tightened as you quickly pulled her towards the girls restroom. “oh my god!” she exclaimed and began jumping the two of you up and down. excited giggles left both of your lips and echoed off the walls of the restroom.
“oh my god,” yeji repeated, suddenly serious. “he means meet him now. you have to go, like, right now!” worry suddenly broke through all your emotions at the possibility of beomgyu thinking that you wouldn’t show. yeji started pushing you towards the door of the restroom.
“oh my god!” you worriedly repeated yeji’s words. in response, all she repeated was, “go, go, go!”
you booked it out of the restroom and out of the school, running all the way until you saw the familiar cherry blossom tree down the hill in front of where the school sat. distantly, you saw beomgyu’s figure waiting for you and you inhaled deeply as you made slow strides towards him. you held the letter close to your heart and tried to control your nerves the closer and closer you got to the tree.
at your incoming footsteps, beomgyu turned to you and you gasped softly and how beautiful he was. a flustered—and somewhat sheepish—smile spread across your face and you stepped just mere inches from where he stood. “i got your letter,” you said as you looked up into his eyes.
the falling cherry blossoms around beomgyu’s head and soft afternoon light framed him perfectly and it made you wonder just how lucky you were that you were the one he chose to confess to.
beomgyu opened his mouth, only to close it and have a matching sheepish smile overtake it. just as he went to open it again, a cherry blossom fell onto his head, caught in the dark strands of his hair. he looked up, just as you did as well, and you both chuckled. “can we start seeing each other?” beomgyu ask you quietly, plucking the flower from his hair and holding it out to you.
if it were even possible, your smile widened and you accepted the outstretched flower. from the corner of your eye saw yeji, yeonjun, and soobin huddle together behind a bush directly across from the two of you. yeji nudged them out of the way to get a good look but accidentally ruffled some of the leaves of the bush. you saw the three of them drop down quick as lightning behind the bush before you or beomgyu could see them.
you nodded and softly spoke, “i would really like that.” a toothy grin spread on beomgyu’s lips. finally, the one he adored the most was his.
∿ [ continue on to . . . masterlist , taglist , request ]
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like when we first met, i hate you and i love you | beomgyu
beomgyu x fem!reader | playlist
୨୧ word count: 6.8k
୨୧ genre: angst, slight smut
୨୧ warning: non-explicit sex (or so i think), unspecified mental disorders and illnesses, depressive thoughts, thoughts of death, thoughts of loneliness, verbal incitement to suicide, very mild violence (not dating violence), unstable and unhealthy relationship, emotional dependency, mild family strife, and lots and lots of anguish. i don't suggest reading to anyone under 18, in fact don't read it if you are under 18.
୨୧ a/n: writing this was a challenge, but i consider it to be one of the writings i put more of myself into. thank you in advance to the people who are encouraged to read, and i hope i will not disappoint you. my native language is not english, so i apologize for any errors or inconsistencies in the text. have a nice weekend!
It was easy for Beomgyu to feel trapped in his own mind, to mourn the days that were more than just lost; he swore that he remembered nothing of them, and yet they could bring him down at any moment.
He had spent nearly a quarter of his life living in hospital rooms, moving from one to another, but in the end remaining within the same four plain, pale walls. No matter how many times the morning came to him, or how long the night before, they meant nothing when all he could see was a ceiling that could only be distorted in the recesses of his mind.
On this particular morning, the ceiling he saw as he lay sprawled on his bed was not the usual one. The sun's rays struck him from a different direction, the comfort of the mattress was not what his body was accustomed to, and the gentle puff of your breath beside him sent his mind wandering to alternatives that would save him from his growing need to flee your uncomfortable presence.
Your situation was not entirely unfamiliar to you. You knew him too well to have any idea what was going through his mind. The guilt overflowed from the brown of his eyes and hit you almost as hard as the reality of waking up in the same situation again. As you felt the warmth of his body next to yours, you wished bitterly that he was a stranger, that way you could let him go without claiming the warmth you lost the moment nakedness stopped meaning anything.
"Beomgyu," you called him with an uncertain tone. You slid your head from the pillow to his chest and let his heartbeat against your ear flood your mind with fear. You wished you could control it and make it keep beating even if it wasn't for you. "Promise you won't let this happen again."
Beomgyu closed his eyes. The yellow color of your walls was too cheerful and always made him feel depressed.
"I'll visit you tomorrow," was his answer. He gently put your head back on the pillow and started to get up.
A lump in your throat kept you silent as the raw fragility of his nakedness escaped the sheets. Even as she finished dressing and turned to look at you, you kept your attention on the place farthest from her eyes, afraid to get too close and discover that there were demons lurking there.
You and Beomgyu met in seventh grade, in the fall of 2016, under the rays of a bright sun and the orange hue of the leaves of an old oak tree. He had just transferred to the same school as you, but with his bright and enthusiastic personality, he had no shortage of friends, attention, or the furtive glances your curiosity encouraged you to give him. The first time you spoke to each other was after an embarrassing skateboard fall at school, but a handshake and a few awkward smiles sparked a bond that made you inseparable.
Aside from similar musical tastes and an interest in hiking, you didn't have much in common and were constantly having not-so-serious discussions about your differences. It was this contrast that made Beomgyu so eager to spend time with you. You were the respite from his usual routine, the color that was missing from the memories in his mind; the shade that waited to protect him from the sun, even though you were completely unaware of his difficulties. And things should have stayed there, in an innocent and uncomplicated friendship, but your childish need for romance and his urge for compression turned you from friends to lovers in a matter of months.
It was an inevitable fact from the beginning. He was a young man full of life carrying a heavy secret, and you were a naive young woman who didn't know what she was getting into when he opened the doors of his heart and you walked right in. By now, after six years of relationship, both of your hearts were worn out and the constant barriers that Beomgyu's unstable mental health put between you widened a distance that even monotony could not close. Beomgyu felt his soul heavy and dirty even when he was near you, the color of your life itself made him feel like a gray stain, and the shadow that once comforted him now burned him every time he tried to cling to its coolness.
"If I don't come tomorrow, don't go to the hospital until you've finished your homework, okay?"
The pain hidden in your silence made Beomgyu feel miserable and almost made him give in to your earlier request. Promising you was the right thing to do, but with him being meaningless, purposeless and pretending, how could he control himself not to come back here?
"You'll be all right, won't you?" he heard you say in a weak, languid voice.
He couldn't do anything but look at your grieving body under the sheets. He felt terrible, like a piece of trash. Every time he looked at you, he realized how disgusting he was for coming here and making you do all those things. He wanted to get down on his knees and beg for your forgiveness and at the same time berate you for letting him do it, for giving him your body even though it made you both feel dirty.
"I love you."
He wasn't sure if those words came out of his mouth and reached you, maybe he had buried them, forgetting their meaning and now they were just a broken compass. What day was it, could he go on or back? Was this the end of the story or had it just begun?
He hated himself so much.
A small smile that didn't reach your eyes spread across your face, you pressed the sheet to your body and propped your knees up on the bed so you could touch him. "Will you be okay?" you repeated as you traced the softness of his cheek with your fingers.
In a losing battle against despair, Beomgyu leaned his face into your touch and closed his eyes. He could not stop pretending that you were not the vessel into which he poured his misery. Every word out of his mouth seemed to weigh tons and lying was the only way to be with you more than just physically.
"I'm trying."
"How long will you keep running away?"
Hearing you, Beomgyu opened his eyes and you sighed as the familiar feeling of fear and uncertainty washed over you as you looked into them. There was a heartbreaking fragility and desperation in them, the same one that was present every time he touched you and made love to you; the same one that remained when his lips moved slightly upward, giving you a faint glimpse of the hidden dimple on his cheek.
"I'm not running away, the hospital doors are always open."
"Beomgyu." You tried to sound stern, but the quiver in your voice at the mention of his name was noticeable.
"Don't worry," he murmured, putting his hands over yours to pull them away from his face. "You have enough burden with school, so avoid distractions and study hard, okay?"
"Then don't come back here, please."
"I'm so sorry." Beomgyu, with his eyes closed and a lump in his throat, placed a hand on your head and pulled you close to him to plant a kiss on your forehead. "Get some sleep before you go to school."
A helpless expression appeared on your face as Beomgyu gently stroked your hair before pulling away. You closed your eyes and bit your lower lip to stifle any more pathetic pleas from your mouth, listening to his every footstep taking him away from you.
An impulse made Beomgyu turn on his heels and look at you again. For some reason, when he saw the way you hugged yourself and closed your eyes tightly, a deep urge to die washed over him from head to toe. He thought he owed it to you after all he had put you through, that there was no other way to give you a chance to escape him.
With a sigh, he took one last look at you and turned his feet toward the exit of your room, offering you the only comfort of his absence and his silence.
And as every time you watched him leave, you felt that he took a piece of your soul with him.
"You have to stop for a moment." You heard Hanna say as you both walked to your next class.
Walking across campus carried a weight that felt thicker in that moment. The weight of the morning was reflected in every step you took, shuffling your feet with the characteristic reluctance of one who has crossed an already too long college day.
Your path to your next class is a routine one, but you have never been able to get used to the distance between one classroom and the next. As you made your way along the path of worn bricks and open spaces where the bustle of students mixed with the sound of car engines, you felt overwhelmed and anxious to get home as soon as possible.
"Take a break." Despite the weight of her guitar on her back and the art portfolio occupying her hands, Hanna moved forward beside you with lighter steps, keeping a calm tone in her voice. "You're starting to rub off on me with your negativity, if you're too tired to study then rest."
You sighed and looked at the time on your watch, your class had started five minutes ago and you still had a long way to go to get to the building where the class was.
"You just don't get it, I rest every day even when I shouldn't," you said as you picked up your pace and Hanna mimicked you without any difficulty.
"Procrastination is not rest, you have to really relax."
If your breathing hadn't been so fast due to the intensity of the walk, you would have sighed. From your perspective, the situation was more complicated. Your current emotional state was beginning to affect your academic performance, and you hated it. As a student of letters and a lover of reading, you had never fallen so far behind in your academic reading and homework. You were used to reading for school as much as for yourself, but in the last few weeks, it was impossible to even hold a book without being a matter of time or will. You couldn't find the concentration to be yourself anywhere, and you feared that if you didn't overcome the block and regain some focus, you would have to drop out of your classes before you failed.
The thought of doing poorly in school made you feel absolutely worthless and nervous.
"I'll try to change, just... don't tell Beomgyu. He's been a little intense lately about the idea that I'm doing well here."
"Why, is he pressuring you or something?"
You paused and thought about all the times Beomgyu told you to stay focused in school, to study hard and get the best grades. It always seemed to you that he said it in a sad rather than a demanding way.
"No, but the situation has been difficult since his relapse," you replied.
Hanna looked at you for a moment with her big, thoughtful eyes before she let out a sigh. "Y/n, since I met you your relationship has been difficult."
"As long as he was under observation he would study online, but he became an irregular student. I guess that's thwarted his plans a lot and knowing my current situation will probably make him sensitive..." you tried to explain in a hurry, but stopped yourself when you couldn't ignore the little conviction in your words. Hanna gave you a reassuring smile and maneuvered her hands to free one of her arms for a few seconds and wrap it around yours. Both your legs slowed in unison and your body relaxed as you tilted your head and rested it on her shoulder. "Do you love him?"
Her question didn't surprise you, but you let a few minutes of silence pass between you before answering. For some reason, it was always difficult to talk about your relationship with Beomgyu; either they didn't understand it at all, or they understood it too much that you started to get the pity treatment.
"Of course."
"As a boyfriend? I mean, do you love him romantically, not as a person you've known since puberty?"
You turned your head away from Hanna's shoulder and brought your gaze to an imprecise point in front of you. It wasn't always up and down with Beomgyu, the stability you both once had and kept you both so alive was as tentative as the current instability, the love manifested was as strong as the doubts. What did it matter how you loved him now, there was no way to know that it would make a difference. The two of you were bound together by more than love, you had a history with too many loose ends to tie up, words whispered in silence that needed to be heard and answered, wounds deep enough to choose to bleed without trying to close them. Yes, the distance was frightening, but you weren't defeated, you could take what you needed from each other to survive, and that wasn't necessarily wrong.
Except for the fact that neither of you were alive.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," Hanna's voice broke through your thoughts and brought you back to reality. You let out a sigh, each question weighing you down with exhaustion. "I just... I want to understand you."
"Does he seem bad to you?" you replied without a hint of anger or concern.
"No, I like Beomgyu, I just... since I know him, he's kind of scary to me."
"No, gosh... He's... the nicest, most sensitive guy I've ever met."
"Not that type of scary."
When you heard these words, you felt frustrated. You didn't understand, even though you were also scared, you didn't understand what it was that Beomgyu reflected when he was with you that you couldn't see; because you were also absolutely terrified and couldn't identify the cause.
"He's fine, Hanna."
"And I'm so glad, but what about you?
You wished you could answer that question without your heart trembling with hesitation, but you were at a point where you doubted even your own words. What your mouth was saying and what Hanna could surely read in your eyes were contradictory things. If only you could have at least known which was true...
"I'm fine, okay?"
Your eyes glided over each word on the page with an almost exaggerated slowness, you had read the same paragraph over and over again in the last few minutes, your head was throbbing and fatigue irritated your eyes, but they were not the reason for your lack of concentration, at least not the main one.
Beomgyu sat a meter away from your desk, and you could feel his attention on every twitch of your facial muscles, on the movements of your hands, on the restless tapping of your foot on the floor. Those silences were the ones you hated the most to share with him, they made you insecure and any chance to approach him in a way that didn't make you feel suffocated slipped through your fingers.
You closed the book with a sigh and turned in your chair to look at him. The dark circles under his eyes hardly surprised you, they seemed as dull as the last times you saw him, barely a spark to show they were still screaming inside.
"Are you done?" he asked, slurring his words, but you were sure he already knew the answer.
"I'm tired," you replied instead as you stood up and sought a safer position on your bed, away from his eyes.
"Me too..."
You sighed as you saw him shrink back into the chair and averted your eyes to the floor. You couldn't shake the desire to be silent that came over you every time you saw him, even you couldn't describe the feeling, it made you sick, afraid to say the wrong thing, to push down the hopes he could barely hold in his hands. You were so afraid of breaking him. Despite your caution, you admitted that you were one of those guilty of endangering the stability of the thin rope he was walking, because as long as you were together, you would be the person Beomgyu held his hand and led him to discover the worst ways to sabotage him. It was as if he was testing your criminal mind and inviting you to watch from the front row as he murdered his own dreams and hopes for life.
You snapped out of your thoughts as you felt the weight of his body sink into the mattress. You turned your face in his direction, slightly dazed as you watched him kick off his shoes and curl up into a ball under your sheets. You sighed, not resisting the urge to bring a hand up to his face and caress his cheek, the way you knew he liked it.
"Lie down," he asked you in his little whisper.
There he was, like a ghost in the darkness, looking at you with a longing that made your body tremble. Though he was overflowing with an inexhaustible weariness, and his features bore the nostalgia of the stars that once shone, he was heartbreakingly beautiful. His smooth skin had the feel of a misunderstood canvas, his eyes, deep and enigmatic, carried unreadable pleas. It was sadness embodied in the skin of an ethereal being, unable to be torn away.
Your eyes closed unconsciously as Beomgyu leaned towards you after you obeyed his words, hiding his face in the curve between your neck and shoulder. The warmth of his body was always overwhelming, but his words had the power to slip between the trembling crevices of your heart and freeze its beating at will.
"I miss you..." he murmured against your skin, the roughness of his fingers clinging to your hips and his nose sliding along your collarbone, enveloping your skin with his breath and stealing layers of your scent. "I miss you so much."
How many times had he said those words to you? You wanted to scream at him that you were here, that you hadn't gone anywhere, that he had you, that nothing would tear you from his side, but even you weren't sure of that anymore.
"Me too, babe," you replied, lowering your face to his as his eyes sought yours. Damn it, you thought, it will happen again.
Within minutes, Beomgyu's lips left your neck and traced a path down your belly. Silently, you gave his hands permission to roam beneath your clothes, to trace the curves of your breasts and massage your soft flesh. More than one sigh was stolen from your mouth as his fingers slid to the pointy centre of your breasts, sending a stream of emotion through the gentle pressure. You couldn't explain the emotion that was marked by the trace of his touch on your skin, it wasn't lust, it wasn't need, it wasn't passion, but it was soft and comfortable, just enough to seem like love, just enough to reduce the agony and inappetence of longing to something subtle.
You whispered his name and cupped his face in your hands to draw him to you. Despite the suffocating emotion in the air, your bodies met in an anxious embrace, seeking solace and a cure for the raw hopelessness they could only express through gestures and silent caresses. The weight of his lips against your forehead made you close your eyes, almost begging him to never let go. Your lips ached with the need that filled them as the cold enveloped your body and replaced your clothes. But he did not kiss your lips, though they cried out in supplication, nor did you kiss his, knowing you would find the bitter taste of apology in them.
You also helped him get rid of his clothes. You imitated his lack of shame and suppressed any negative emotions that would make you believe that seeing and touching him as you did was wrong. How could it be so wrong when you had Beomgyu in your hands, gentle, vulnerable and intense? Trembling sounds escaped his throat and bound your hands, begging for more. His hands tightened around you, his fingers sliding down each side of your neck and his thumbs pressing against the softest, most vulnerable part of your shoulders. You leaned into his direction, letting his warm breath brush against your ear.
"My sweet Y/n..." Despite your skepticism that such a thing was possible, the sweetness in his voice made you believe that he really could feel the lost, that your body and voice could soothe his pain.
You kissed his hips with your fingertips, touching the roughness of his bones, holding him close as he wriggled against your touch. He responded just as sharply and slid one hand over your belly and the other between your legs where he pressed his fingers to your most sensitive spot, where pain and pleasure intertwined and sent a tightening sensation to your chest. "Beomgyu..."
"Shhh... it's okay." He took hold of your knees and, as if he had forgotten his own frailty, he exposed you and adjusted your position for him. Your eyes sought his, eager to hold on to something, to reassure you that it wasn't a stranger touching you; to remind you that all was well, that you were safe. You wanted to find security and familiarity away from this quiet, reserved, sleepy version of himself, you wanted a smile of encouragement, one that would light up the night but not set the moon on fire.
Beomgyu held your waist, preventing the involuntary, violent jerks of your pelvis. You swallowed saliva, dizzy and anticipating the raw invasion of his being inside you.
"What's wrong?" you asked as you watched him look at you motionlessly.
"You're not wet enough."
"It's okay, just do it."
Beomgyu's lips brushed your cheek, his voice a whisper in your ear as he leaned closer. "I just want you to relax," he said. "Let me take care of everything."
With a gentle tug around your waist, he sank you deeper into the bed, your head back against the softness of the pillow as he parted his body from yours to give him an open path for his hand to the shy, sensitive place between your legs. His fingers traced the inside of your thighs and slid down to the slit of your crotch, where he made circular motions with his fingertips for a few seconds before penetrating you.
You closed your eyes and gasped for air. It was as if he was lulling you and slapping you at the same time. Part of you wanted to take it with or without pain because you didn't think you could take it much longer; another part of you, the more disillusioned part of you, wished it was him who gave up and ran away. You tried, you really hoped it would work. For a while, sex had been the relief for this raw ache, but nothing really cured it. No matter how many nights you devoted your body to Beomgyu's desires, there would always be a night when you would lock yourself in your room and cry for all that he lacked, for all that you couldn't give him, for all that you didn't want to give him. And he would know, he always noticed these things, the tears burning under the flesh of your cheeks. But he would not caress your heart as you cried, nor would his hands wrap around you as your mind and soul had done a thousand times with him. For Beomgyu would still be miserable, and neither you nor he was ready for him not to drag you down with him.
Your body responded to the demands of Beomgyu's fingers and gave him what they were looking for. He clung to you as if he didn't want you to escape. You could feel his muscles tense and tremble, his breath in your ears, his heartbeat and breath on your skin. It was the only thing you could hold on to so that you wouldn't collapse right there.
Beomgyu slid back, his fingers suddenly far away from the spot between your legs. The feeling of his emptiness inside you was such a familiar pain that you almost reached out for him for a moment, but the caress of his lips on your shoulder and that voice you missed so much brought your focus back to him.
"You're not leaving, are you?" he asked as he slid slowly and carefully inside you.
You didn't answer, you both already knew the answer.
The silence in the room was overwhelming. You were lying on the bed, minutes had passed since your breathing had returned to normal, and now the only sound in the room was the pattering of the rain against the glass of your window. The sweat had dried on your skin and the sheets; your muscles, now relaxed, felt a slight sense of fatigue that made you want to stay in bed.
You looked at Beomgyu's back and traced the curve of his posture with the pad of your index finger. The delicate contours of his vertebrae were illuminated under the dim light of your desk lamp, lacking muscular strength, with a fragility palpable in every stroke your finger outlined.
"Don't come back tomorrow."
"Y/n..." he said in a vague form of protest, but you cut him off before he could say anything else. "I have an exam and I really need to study.
I'll visit you on Friday." There was a minute of silence in which you thought he would try to protest, but he just nodded.
"Well, uhm... Are you hungry?"
"Not really."
"You're thinner."
"Maybe."
"Have they been feeding you well?" He gave you a sideways glance and raised his shoulders reluctantly. "It's hard, I have no appetite."
"Hospital food is terrible, isn't it?"
"I guess."
You sighed and looked at the back of his head as if you could see through it.
"It's not the kind of food we were made for," you replied, trying to lighten the mood. Beomgyu finally moved, turned around and his head landed right on your chest. You could feel his hands touching your ribs, his lips in your hair, your feet on his. "I could make you some fried rice," you continued. "So you can eat something."
"It's okay, just stay with you. I don't need any-"
Your eyebrows furrowed as he interrupted himself. He had raised his gaze and was now staring at you.
"What's wrong?"
"You look pretty."
Pretty.
The mood in the room changed when he said those words. You held your breath. Everything around you seemed weaker, as if it would fall apart at the wrong sound. You wanted to speak, but you dared not, out of weakness, your absurd cowardice, to show what you were thinking inside. You didn't feel beautiful. You didn't feel loved. Oh, what a relief it would have been to be able to express it to him at that moment, what a different and less complicated way it would have been not to wait for your surroundings to collapse in order to tell him all that you were hiding inside. Maybe if habit did not keep you silent when misery hovers around you, maybe if darkness was not the only stimulus urging you to seek the light, maybe you would have said it.
I feel lonely.
"Let's cook something, you know, like old times, but this time without burning anything. Let's make gimbap, but not just any gimbap. We can look up my grandmother's recipe, remember? I made it once for your birthday, haven't made it since, but I don't think I've lost the touch. The recipe has to be out there somewhere. My mother..."
"Okay," he interrupted, surprising you with a kiss on the cheek. "Forget the gimbap, fried rice is fine."
"Do you... do you want to join me or would you rather stay here and rest?"
"It's okay, your sister could meet me any minute."
"I'll be back in a few minutes."
With an overwhelming hope growing in your chest, you left your room and went to the kitchen. The house was plunged into a terrible silence and you had to fight the urge to return to the room, knowing that you would not find a warmer atmosphere inside. But the silence didn't last long, just as Beomgyu had predicted, Leah, your older sister, closed the front door as you finished descending the last flight of stairs. You were wearing only a plus size t-shirt and your panties, so you weren't surprised by the annoyed look she gave you.
"Looks like the rain caught up with you after work."
"He's here, isn't it?"
You weren't even surprised that she ignored your attempts to start a conversation away from Beomgyu. You rolled your eyes and headed for the kitchen without looking at her. "Oh, not again, Leah."
"That bastard," you heard her curse as she nipped at your heels. "He thinks he can do whatever he wants to you because of his illness?"
"He didn't do anything to me."
"That's the problem, y/n. In your opinion, he never does anything."
"Mind your own business, Leah." You told her as you tried your best to look busy, moving your hands around the closet, but the truth was your hands couldn't even remember what they were looking for. You opened one of the cabinets, then another. By the third, you felt a little discouraged, so you opened the fourth. Your hands began to despair, until finally a small package of rice wrapped in plastic caught your eye. You gently picked it up and placed it in your lap as you pulled a wooden stool closer to the side of the counter and sat down.
"I'm minding my own business." She replied, standing behind you for a few moments, a tense silence settling between the two of you, and you didn't dare look her in the eye. You felt a pang of embarrassment.
"Leave me alone."
Leah took one of your hands and forced you to face her. "You know I don't like to keep quiet when it comes to this, I didn't before, I won't now. Even if my words are in vain, even if I don't have the right to tell you what to do, I won't swallow my disapproval of you continuing this story in which you are clearly not a heroine. You are a fool, just like mom, don't you see? You witnessed her long years of misery for what? To repeat history? What is broken only hurts."
"Stop." You pulled her hand hard. "This is between Beomgyu and me, no one else has any part in this. How many times do I have to explain myself to you?
Leah let out a frustrated sigh, she seemed to be debating your words and your back stiffened as you waited for her next attack, but the tension in your body turned to surprise when you felt her hand tugging at the collar of your shirt.
"Leah!" you screamed, but your attempts to push her away faltered as you became aware of what she was looking at with such displeasure. You didn't even remember the purple marks on your collarbone, they were old and therefore barely noticeable, but her sharp eyes hadn't missed them and her expression made it clear that he knew who the culprit was; which was just one more reason to increase her displeasure.
"I'm going to... God, that idiot..." After a few seconds of silence, you heard her sigh and turn away. You felt your stomach sink. "Is he upstairs?"
"Leah, don't..."
Your reflexes were fast, but not fast enough to catch her before she came out of the kitchen. Less than a meter from the stairs, your fingers clutched at her clothes, perhaps too tightly, perhaps so desperately that it left your sister and you in disbelief.
You thought of Beomgyu waiting for you in your room, vulnerable and feeble with his own thoughts. Maybe he agreed to let you cook for him because he wanted to be alone, maybe he called you pretty because it was easier than saying anything else. Maybe you loved him and it wasn't right. Maybe you hated him and he knew it. Maybe you took his sadness for granted, or maybe you should have understood that he wasn't worth it. But there was more, something darker than all possible answers, something you suspected but were afraid to admit to yourself, afraid to face it.
Beomgyu didn't need you, it was you who needed him.
Your hand loosened its grip on Leah's clothes and you stepped back. A tremor went through your body as you looked down at your hands, suddenly afraid of yourself, your own demons. "I'm sorry, just... leave him alone."
For a few seconds you thought she would say something, argue, scream, or just try to move on as if she didn't hear you. She did none of these things, instead she turned back to the stairs and said those words that hit every sensitive nerve in your body.
"If your disease doesn't kill you soon, you should kill yourself."
At first, her words were like an attack that you couldn't digest for the first few seconds. They hurt, they stole your breath, and you heard the crackling of something weak, something sensitive breaking; but it was only when you saw where the attack was directed that fear and a searing anxiety invaded your body and made your knees fight against a wrenching weakness.
"Leah!" the scream tore at your throat.
Beomgyu was standing on the stairs when he met your sister's gaze. His jaw was clenched, but his tired expression made him look almost expressionless. But he wasn't. He was shaking, more than you. He was suffering, more than you. He had never looked so small, so fragile, so far away. And you had never felt so helpless, so frightened, so unaware of your impulses.
"How... how can you say such a thing?" Your palms slapped Leah's back, once, twice, three times, as if to force her to spit out an answer. You were distraught, desperate, about to burst into tears. "How can you be a human being and say such a thing? How can you be my sister and..."
"'Whoa, whoa, take it easy... Just calm down..." Beomgyu's arms, who seemed to have rushed down the stairs at full speed at the first of your attacks, wrapped around your waist and pulled you back. You tried to pull him away, even though you had no intention of returning to your sister, but he clung to you tightly. "Come on, outside."
You didn't resist as he led you outside your house. His hands released you only when he closed the door behind him and you turned to him with a pleading expression. Beomgyu said nothing but shook his head in a gesture you could not decipher and the fear that shook every part of your body could not have been worse.
Silence.
You parted your lips, desperately wanting to say something, anything, but nothing came out. Beomgyu gave you a dejected smile and shrugged his shoulders, a gesture he always made when he wanted to play things down and cheer you up. You had to look away to keep from collapsing.
The raindrops on the pavement were bright white under the streetlights. The streets were empty, the only sounds being your accelerated breathing, the pattering of the rain, and the rustle of the trees in the wind. The air was tinged with damp bark and earthy moss, a smell that for the first time you found more devastating than comforting.
"I'm going home, back inside."
Your breath caught in your lungs and you made an incredible effort to get the words out of your mouth. 'If your disease doesn't kill you soon, you should kill yourself'. These words kept going over and over and over in your mind. How could your sister tell him that, how could she even think about it? Beomgyu, who had lived in a body full of anxiety, instability, impulsiveness, confusion, and paranoia since he was sixteen. Beomgyu, who had to live with an incurable diagnosis and inexhaustible medication. Beomgyu, in whose confused mind, behind a thick layer of emotions, there was only a genuine desire to be loved, accepted and valued by himself and others. Beomgyu, insecure, bright, dull, happy, depressed, who started a new war against himself every day. If your sister had known all this, would she have said those cruel words? If your sister had seen the sharp, cutting impact that melted into Beomgyu like a heavy anchor that prevented any hope from floating, would she really have stayed at home so calmly?
"She doesn't know what she said," you whispered, lifting your gaze from the floor to look deep into his eyes. "She's... selfish, arrogant, completely irrational. She thinks she knows you. They think they know you. But they don't know anything about you! They don't know you like I do, no one...no one..."
"It's okay."
"Nobody does."
"I know." Beomgyu took your face in his hands, his intense eyes never leaving yours. "You know me better than anyone."
"Stay."
Beomgyu shook his head sadly.
"No, I..."
"I love you."
Your interruption seemed to shake the ground beneath Beomgyu's feet. The boy sighed shakily and leaned his forehead against yours. His eyes, now wet and shiny like the concrete of the long avenue, were hidden under his eyelids and closed with the force of something burning to be seen.
"Do you sometimes... do you sometimes not have the urge to die together? To throw us in a lake and drown? Something like that?"
A sob escaped your throat and your hands cupped his cheeks, almost as if you were holding his heavy soul with the edge of your fingernails to keep him from slipping from your grasp. Nothing was ever more frustrating. "No, God, of course not, how can you say such a thing? I want nothing more than to live by your side, to synchronize your heart with mine, to hear you breathe, to see you smile... I want to calm you down and for you to calm me down. I want to survive with you.
Beomgyu let out a soft snort that resembled an attempt at laughter. "Always giving me the cold shoulder. Go back inside, you'll catch a cold."
Your hands grabbed his clothes. You didn't want to let go, your whole being told you not to, not to let him go, not like that, not with those words still echoing in his head. Beomgyu gently pushed your hands away and you trembled. You were afraid for everything, for him, for yourself, for the future. You feared his departure and that he would become unreachable. For the first time, you feared that you didn't love him.
Beomgyu's breathing was steady now, only the faint, clear outline of his body pressed against your chest told you that he was still there, still present. "I'm scared," you whispered.
"Me too."
"Will I see you tomorrow?"
"Friday, I'll see you Friday."
"You promise?"
"I promise."
Finally, you stepped back, still wanting to say many things, but lacking the right repository of words to get them out. Beomgyu hesitated for a moment, his mouth opened slightly as if he wanted to speak. But he didn't. You took a deep breath and stepped back again, your face blank and your hands hanging limply at your sides. Your lips trembled, but then, almost out of nowhere, you smiled. It wasn't a happy smile, nothing like that, given the situation. It was desperation eating away at your life, the wind hitting your body and telling you how empty your hands were now. It was Beomgyu, tired and in pain, making his way into the distance.
Omg!! I just finished reading like when we first met, I hate you and love you and I just want to say that was the most beautiful yet tear jerking story I have ever read. I was wondering if you could possibly make a part two where we get to see the outcome of beomgyu and readers lives after that day. Possibly the sisters perspective too (only if you want too).
Hiii. My goodness, thank you so much for your interest and your kind comments, they make me feel great, I swear. About a possible second part, of course! Actually, the story wasn't supposed to end there, but I rushed it a bit for convenience. Anyway, I'll work on it. My writing is pretty slow, so it might take a while, but I'll do my best to get it out as soon as possible ❤️
