Work Text:
A familiar scene to Beomgyu as the stylist of an idol group is one where his senses are pushed almost to their limits. Engulfed in white, bright fluorescent lights, the dressing room strains his eyes to the point he can feel a headache coming his way. Noises from around him make him lose focus every few seconds; the dancers next door practising choreography, the protocol team repeatedly giving safety reminders about the set and props, and the constant footsteps from the staff running around doing this and that.
The pre-concert routine usually doesn’t have them this swamped, but rehearsal ran an hour longer than scheduled. They just had their first run through with the dance team from the US, so it was like their first rehearsal all over again. A lot of things are different for this strand of the tour. Setlist, dance formations, and outfits, which Beomgyu is partly responsible for.
He’s assisting the TXT members with their suits to wear as the opening outfit for the concert. They’re light pink, heavy, and embroidered with so many details all over the fabric. Lace, buttons, jewels, and sequins handsewn to draw patterns all over the sleeves, collars, shoulders and lapels. But the highlight is at the back of the suits where a giant, red heart outline sits.
The red beads that make up the heart are arranged in a way that make it look like dripping blood, a stark contrast to the soft romance of the pink.
Yeonjun stares at them, feeling the intricate beadwork with his own fingers and tracing each of the beads that make up the hollow shape.
"It's pretty," he mutters, and somehow in the rackety vessel that Beomgyu's found himself in, he hears Yeonjun's voice loud and clear. It grounds him a little bit.
Beomgyu doesn't respond just yet. There is usually more with Yeonjun. He takes the suit instead and puts it on Yeonjun’s frame. The idol lets the stylist do his job, tucking in his white dress shirt into the matching pink pants so that he looks neat and clean, never mind that all will be ruined as soon as he steps onto the stage.
Beomgyu guides Yeonjun to look into the rows of mirrors in front of them. "Comfy?" he asks, and gets a nod. Yeonjun is not done staring at the red hearts because he turns his body to look at them through the reflection on the mirror and really , really looks.
"I love these," he exclaims, a little too loudly while pointing at his own back. "They turned out better than I thought. You did amazing.”
There it is, the more . Beomgyu tries hard not to freeze on the spot. He’s pretty sure the other people in the room are looking at him now. Or at Yeonjun, or both of them.
“Thanks,” he says, trying to sound as normal as possible. He pretends to smoothen the beige vest under Yeonjun’s jacket. Beomgyu doesn’t tell Yeonjun that he always designs his outfits to be his favourite out of the four members.
Of course, it's never anything too drastic. The members are all meant to look similar. Even with outfits that aren't identical to each other, cohesion is always a thing with idol groups. But it's the little things like Yeonjun's accessories, or his neckline, or the cut of his pants that Beomgyu personally added his touch to. And today, it's the vest. He looks as handsome as ever.
Yeonjun keeps checking himself out in the mirror, giving Beomgyu the back view of his hair. Dark teal and styled, it's such a notable difference from just three nights ago when they were fucking in the hotel in Bangkok. Messy, sweaty, strands hovering over Beomgyu's face.
Shit. He cringes at himself for thinking about something so crass in the middle of work.
“Here,” Beomgyu is brought out of his stupor by Yeonjun’s calling. In between the tip of his pointer finger and thumb is a piece of thin, black ring. Yeonjun’s own one, not given by the stylist team or sponsored by any brands. Beomgyu takes it without a word and keeps it in his jeans pocket.
They started this at the first show of the tour. Yeonjun was worried he would lose the ring while performing on stage and had given it to Beomgyu to keep it safe. Now, just like many other things among them, it has become a routine.
Yeonjun and Beomgyu just happened to happen. The first few weeks that Beomgyu started working as a junior stylist for the company, he found himself alone with Yeonjun in a dressing room. The idol had just returned from an after-party of a fashion brand’s pop-up store opening. That night, Beomgyu alone had been tasked to pack the brand’s clothes Yeonjun was dressed in to return the next day.
"Sorry, can you just- I need to remove your pants." Beomgyu's fingers were grasping the unbuttoned waistband, ready to take them off of Yeonjun's folded legs on the stool.
"Beomgyu-ssi," Yeonjun slurred, even more than his usual mumbling manner of speech. "Already...? You're not even gonna take me out on a date first?" He joked, breath tickling Beomgyu's left ear.
Beomgyu just chuckled. "Maybe you don't know me that well then," he entertained the drunk man. Any other day, he would’ve just laughed it off without giving any remark. But seeing that no one but himself would remember this conversation tomorrow, he gave in to his emotion. Work had been so intense that he hadn’t had time for himself. Gone were the days he would let himself loose and wake up in a stranger’s bed.
Yeonjun finally lifted his butt and let Beomgyu strip away the pants to fold them neatly. Shirt next. He handed Yeonjun's own sweatpants to wear first before taking his shirt off so he would not feel too exposed, but it was left untaken. When he looked, Yeonjun was just staring up at him with an expression that Beomgyu couldn't quite put his words on.
“Let me change that tonight,” he said, all traces of alcohol leaving his voice. What used to be raspy mumbling became clear and pierced Beomgyu’s ears. “Tell me, do you think I’m hot?” Yeonjun asked him, and it sounded so, so wrong.
“W-what?” Beomgyu hadn’t had time to process the question. “I don't- Well, of course you’re attractive. You have good… proportions and you look good in… clothes…,” He scrambled to think of things to say while not going batshit crazy.
“Would you fuck me?” Yeonjun seemed unphased by the words that were coming out of his mouth. Sure, he’s drunk, but this is just ridiculous.
Beomgyu took a deep breath. “Are you getting insecure or something? Believe me, you’ve got nothing to worry about, Yeonjun-ssi. I think you’re… perfectly fuckable,” he tried. That sounded professional, right? I’m not gonna lose my job?
“But would you fuck me? Cause I would totally fuck you,” Yeonjun kept on going, absolutely not acting like he had just admitted something so lewd to a co-worker.
Beomgyu could physically feel his throat dry out in real time. This had to be the alcohol.. but the way Yeonjun looked at him with such sharp eyes made him think otherwise. Is Yeonjun even drunk at all to be saying all these crazy things?
“Like, uh, hypothetically? Sure,” Yes, you are hot and I would totally fuck you, is what he really meant to say.
A smirk perked up at the corner of Yeonjun’s lips, which Beomgyu couldn't help but catch. Without saying anything, Yeonjun finally stood up from the stool, and it was then that Beomgyu realised the weight of the exchange they just had. He stayed still like an idiot, waiting for the other to take the first step. If Yeonjun had decided this was just a joke, he had all the space to back off and laugh it off. But he didn’t, and what he did instead was coming closer and closer until all that filled Beomgyu’s vision was him, his pale skin under the white light and the smell of alcohol on his breath, matching the hunger in his eyes. And all Beomgyu could feel next was his skin, but it was warm, and it was touching his own, and it made him realise just how much he had missed another human so close to him.
The first time he was kissed by Yeonjun, it felt like feeding a hunger that had been awoken, simply by the touch of a pair of lips.
Yeonjun pulled apart after a simple, chaste kiss and stared at him, gauging his reaction and silently asking if what he did was okay. It was, but instead of verbalising it, Beomgyu sent the message by kissing him back.
It was illogical. The more he fed his hunger, the more he yearned for it. The kisses, touches and holds made him feel both ravenous and fulfilled. He became more and less hungry at the same time. But it would be okay because Yeonjun was going to keep giving him more and keep him locked to the chain of not enough, just enough, and more than enough. So he can keep on coming back for more and feel satiated, and still feel like it won’t be enough.
A year later, nothing has changed.
The face that greets him in between the whites of the pillows and crumpled sheets is still Yeonjun’s, asleep and adorned by the sliver of light they left turned on in the bathroom. Beomgyu is sated, calm, and a little bit tired.
Carefully, he blindly rummages around the bedside table for his phone. The screen is blaring 4:37a.m. He internally sighs at the day that is about to meet him. Flight to Los Angeles for their next show.
He unwraps himself out of the way-too-comfortable thick blanket and tiptoes to the bathroom, careful not to wake Yeonjun up. The water from the sink drips cold on his face and fingers, dragging him away further and further from the slumber of sleep. Or nap. He’s not sure how long he was unconscious for. Just that him and Yeonjun met up in the latter’s solo hotel room after the show in the new city, fucked, and his ass is a bit sore now. Also, he’s actually feeling quite clean, considering.
Yeonjun greets him again when he opens the bathroom door, awake now and seated on the bed.
“Shit!” Beomgyu whisperingly half-screamed out of shock. “Sorry, did I wake you up?”
Yeonjun sleepily shakes his head. His hair is so messed up and his eyes are squinted because of the light, making him look a bit silly. Beomgyu ruffles his head and softly pushes it back on the pillow. “Sorry for passing out early. And thanks for cleaning me up,” he says. Yeonjun lets his head fall on the cushion, but his eyes stay open.
“Did I fuck you that good,” The raspy short comment followed by giggles send a smile to Beomgyu’s face. All he can do is flick him off. But deep down, he does worry about something.
“You weren’t too tired? I thought for sure you wouldn’t wanna meet after last night,” he asked.
The Chicago show had been insane. As usual with American crowds, they sing along to the lyrics instead of doing the fanchants, which Beomgyu found to be wholesome, especially with the language difference. So naturally, the members’ energy was also higher than usual to match the crowd.
After the concert though, there were late interviews from the press covering their mundane, after-concert routine, which was sure to be a bit annoying after performing at a three-hour concert.
“You could never tire me out,” Yeonjun murmurs. “Seeing you after all that actually made it better.”
Alright, here he goes with the weird, unnecessary remarks again.
“Can’t find my pants,” Beomgyu ignores him, struggling to look around the room for a dark piece of fabric in the already dark room. Now that there’s another pair of eyes on him, he’s suddenly too aware of Yeonjun’s oversized striped shirt covering his body, and only that. He doesn’t want to turn on the room light and wake the other even further from his slumber, although the elder is already pretty much fully awake now.
”You don’t have to go back,” Yeonjun responds instead, this time his voice is louder and clearer to make a point. In this early morning, perhaps, they are the only ones awake on this very level of the hotel, easing into a conversation that Beomgyu knows very well will not end too well.
“Don’t be silly, of course I do,” he says mindlessly. Yeonjun points to a slob of darkness behind the couch. His pants. “You go back to sleep. We have to come down at eight sharp,” Beomgyu reminds him and grabs the black, wide-legged jeans on the floor. He feels something small softly poking his thighs from the pocket as he puts them on.
Yeonjun’s ring that he forgot to give back.
”I’m putting this here,” Beomgyu shows it to Yeonjun and places it on the coffee table, right next to his phone and wallet. He finally removes Yeonjun’s t-shirt and folds it on a suitcase before grabbing his own sweatshirt that he came in here with, putting that on next.
”Beomgyu,” Yeonjun lifts his body up again, now fully awake to request something that has been asked for a million times. “Just stay the night here. We can go down together later.”
“No, thanks. I’m supposed to room with one of the managers tonight… they’re gonna realise I’m gone soon.” Beomgyu fixes his dry bangs. The American air doesn’t do it justice.
“Just say you were with me. They don’t care,” Yeonjun argues. He sounds tired now, but not from sleep.
Beomgyu pretends to think about it as he packs his stuff up, which are really just some packets of condoms and lubes, wet tissues, a mask and his cap. A little sex packet he brings to his little meetings with Yeonjun. It tickles him a bit to hold the bag now that they’ve done the deed.
“It’s fine. I’d rather not,” he decides to answer truthfully. It’s not so much about hiding the fact that he’s fucking. Staff members mess around with each other all the time. No one would bat an eye if they did find out he’s gone on some nights. It’s who he’s fucking that changes everything.
A deep, breathy sigh comes out of Yeonjun, and again, Beomgyu pretends not to hear it. He doesn’t know if he should feel sorry, guilty, or insist that none of this is his fault. He isn’t even sure if it is a fault that they’re keeping things low. Time and time, Yeonjun implies that they don’t have to. Keep things low, that is. Time and time again, Beomgyu ignores his hints and keeps on moving.
Truthfully, he’s tired of having this discussion, and he knows Yeonjun is too. It’s a routine at this point, an inescapable ending to their hook-ups. And every single time, it turns out the same way.
Yeonjun is an idol, sure, but so are Soobin, Taehyun, and Kai. All three of them have fooled around with the staff, or even people outside the company. If Yeonjun doesn’t care about his privacy and their secrecy, Beomgyu, a mere staff member that’s practically unknown to the public, shouldn’t either. He doesn’t have a reputation to hold, not towards anyone outside of the company.
Still, Yeonjun and him are a secret that he feels safe locked away in a chest under the sea. The bigger question is why Yeonjun feels uneasy with that security.
Beomgyu never asks. He decides not to today, either. Instead, he walks towards Yeonjun’s slumped back and holds his nape with both of his hands, feeling the softness of the curling around his fingers, and kisses his forehead.
As soon as his lips leave the contact, Beomgyu turns around and begins to walk away. The warmth of Yeonjun’s bed hair pricks at the tips of his fingers, sending some semblance of comfort that he wishes he didn’t have to leave.
As the door lock clicks in place, he hopes that the man behind it is entranced with sleepiness and will soon forget about the rockiness of the ship that they’re sailing.
It is two days before the New York concert. TXT and the management team are looking around the streets of the bustling city. They chose to have a relaxing day out, so Central Park becomes the venue of the hang out after grabbing a bite at a random coffee shop.
The quieter section of the park is nice to be at. It goes without saying, but they’re all glad to have at least one day to explore the city without getting bombarded by so many fans. Even if the members aren't being approached, it gets irritating having eyes and cameras following them around. This stillness in such a busy city is what they needed.
Next to Beomgyu, Yeonjun is engrossed in his black handheld digital camera that he bought specifically for this trip. He lets Yeonjun lead the way, getting pulled by whatever tree or bird or grass that compels him to capture. What Yeonjun doesn't see is himself, surrounded by the earth and skies and the greens, making him smaller than Beomgyu will ever see him, so human and so stripped away from the bulk of outfits, the stuffiness of makeup and the flashes of cameras. Though rare, he thinks Yeonjun now is the prettiest he has ever seen him.
The Yeonjun that he’s used to seeing belongs in dressing rooms, measuring sessions, and outfit fittings. The Yeonjun that he memorises doesn’t stray further than his dorm room that Beomgyu has only been in during dark hours, further than the last cubicle of public restrooms, or further than the hotel rooms with the comfiest beds - because the bed is the only thing they care about and the only thing they’re there for.
Beomgyu gazes at Yeonjun from behind, and all he can do at the moment is capture it himself. Yeonjun is pixelated on his phone screen, and he taps, taps, taps away. Orbiting around Yeonjun, he collects different angles and compositions, trying whatever looks best. In photoshoots, Yeonjun works his poses as easy as walking. He knows he looks good, but more than that, he knows how to make himself look even better on camera, skillfully moving under the lighting and finding the right angles. But like this, candid pictures taken in fleeting moments with only nature as his set and props, it is honestly unfair that not much has changed. Yeonjun is as pretty as always.
"Hey, want me to take y'alls pictures?" Someone speaks to him in a perfect American accent. Beomgyu turns, facing a man that could more or less be a little older than himself. Before he can even try to think of a way to politely decline, Yeonjun beats him to it and responds differently.
"Sure," he says with a smile before handing the stranger his digital camera. It's only then that Beomgyu realises how far both of them have strayed away from their main group. The stranger probably thought they came here alone and wanted to help them get pictures together.
Yeonjun stands close to Beomgyu's side, one arm on his shoulder to pull him in. At his touch, Beomgyu feels his limbs stiffen. Suddenly, he's much too aware of Yeonjun's skin so close to his in broad daylight, among strangers around them that could very well know who Yeonjun is. It feels like broaching into illegal territory.
Hands at his sides, Beomgyu keeps them stiff and straight. While he’s still deciding the kind of pose he should make, the shutter sounds fill the tranquillity of the park, joining the rustling of the leaves and the chirping of the birds.
"You guys make a pretty couple," the man remarks while returning the camera. Beomgyu catches Yeonjun giving the man a smile before saying his thanks. He waits for the stranger to walk away before asking in a shaky voice.
"Is my English bad or did he just say we're a couple?"
Yeonjun clicks through the pictures on his camera, showing them one by one to Beomgyu. "Your English is bad. He didn't say we're a couple, he said we look good as one.”
"Why didn't you tell him we're not?"
“Just for fun. He doesn’t know us anyway. You look funny here, by the way,” he points to Beomgyu’s face in one of the pictures. Yeonjun looks handsome in it, no surprises there. His left arm is around Beomgyu’s shoulders, the black ring on his middle finger is clear and front in the photograph. Beomgyu, however, looks like an awkward stickman. His face is a mix of a frown and a smile. That’s why Yeonjun is the idol here and not him.
He ignores Yeonjun. “But what if he talks about it on the internet and the fans find out that you didn’t deny it? That we’re a couple,” The last word runs a little weird on his tongue
“Would it matter?”
Beomgyu is a bit taken aback by the question. Obviously…? “I’m just worried about you. I don’t think you wanna wake up one day and find out from the news that I’m your secret boyfriend or something,” he reasons. To his ears, it sounds right. He does care about Yeonjun’s image, as much as Yeonjun has tried to convince him otherwise.
“Hmm, but I don’t really care about that.” Yeonjun fixes his gaze on the ground. They’re starting to walk towards the rest of the group, but seeing that everyone else is just lazing around, they take their time. “If that ever happens, I’ll just let the company handle it. It’ll be annoying, but it’s their job. Plus, it’s you, so… yeah. Sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying,” he chuckles, but it’s weighted with truths that Beomgyu can’t uncover. What do you mean by it’s me?
Beomgyu lets their footsteps on the ground fill the silence between them. Here they go again, pulling at different ends of the same string. Like they’re reaching for the same thing, but on opposite sides still.
That reminds him.
“By the way, hyung,” Beomgyu changes the subject. “You need to stop praising me too much in front of the others.”
Yeonjun makes a noise that sounds like snortle. “What, someone’s shy for being good at their job?” he ruffles the top of Beomgyu’s head.
“Stop that,” Beomgyu tries to duck. “It’s just… it gets kinda awkward when the other stylists hear it. They worked hard on it too, you know,” he mutters.
It’s something that had been gnawing at him little by little, making him more overly conscious than usual when he’s in the circle of his team. He doesn’t think it’s Yeonjun’s fault for wanting to say nice things, but there will always be a part of him that doesn’t believe it is necessary. Not in the mass that Yeonjun has been more than willing to carry.
Just as he expected, Yeonjun looks at him weird. His brows are furrowed in a way that tells Beomgyu he has mildly offended the other.
“Is this about the red hearts on the suits? It was your idea, you know. I’m just giving credit where it’s due.”
“I know, and I’m grateful for that. But I think Jiwon-noona’s starting to realise something about us.”
“That we’re close? Everyone knows that.”
“That we fuck.”
Yeonjun stops in his tracks. “That still a problem for you?”
“Wha- of course it’s a problem to me,” Beomgyu says, almost clamouring to Yeonjun’s stupid question. “This shouldn’t be a shock to you.”
“I just don’t understand why,” Yeonjun mumbles, but Beomgyu catches it. “Did someone say something to you? Like, threaten you?”
It’s Beomgyu’s turn to look confused. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. I thought someone found out about us and blackmailed you into doing something for them… so that they’d keep quiet.”
“No, I just meant like, I don't want them to think you’re giving me all this attention just cause we’re close, you know.”
“But we are close,” Yeonjun stresses. He makes a point by gripping Beomgyu’s left wrist, forcing him to turn around. “That doesn’t mean I can’t recognise your work and effort. The red hearts were your idea. I’m just applauding you for it.”
“I know, hyung, but I don’t need it-”
“Why can’t you just accept that you did a good job? I saw your design sketches first, and I was there when you were too nervous to pitch the idea to Jiwon-noona. I convinced you to do it anyway and I watched you rush back to the studio when we spent the night together, just so you can have extra time to work on it. You don’t think I’d know how hard you worked on it?” Yeonjun blurts everything out, leaving Beomgyu speechless at his almost-shouting tone. From the outsider’s view, he’s sure it must like they’re fighting now. Maybe they really are.
Beomgyu is too struck to respond as he watches Yeonjun remove his hand and walk away. It makes him realise that he’s never hated watching anything else more than this- the view of Yeonjun’s back leaving him further and further.
“Hyung, please, I get it,” This time, it is Beomgyu who has to catch up to him and grab his shoulder. “I get it, but that’s not the point I was making.” Yeonjun won't look at him, but he continues regardless. “It’s the first big project they’re handing to me ever since I started working here and I just really want them to like it. For me, and for my hard work. Not for…you. For being close with you or- or having someone important like you give a good word for me. I don’t want that.”
The weight of the words felt heavier once they left his mouth. It must have shown because finally, Yeonjun looks at him with a sad furrow. Beomgyu wants to smoothen the frown on his eyebrows with is fingers.
“Okay,” he sighs. “Okay, I get it. You’re… you’ve worked so hard to get this job and I shouldn’t have… I just need to dial it down, right?,” he says. It stings Beomgyu to hear the very things that was thinking of, coming out of Yeonjun’s mouth in such a defeated tone. He’s not wrong, but…
“Hyung, I’m not-” Beomgyu starts, but then stops as he doesn’t know how to refute himself. Yeonjun is right. He should have just listened to what Beomgyu was saying and respected his wishes. “Yeah, thanks,” he says instead, all solemn and strained.
They look at each other and Beomgyu can only hope that the ground will swallow him whole right there and then. It hurts to make Yeonjun upset, but it hurts more when he doesn’t know what Yeonjun is feeling. Sad, offended, disappointed.
“Sorry if I was making it hard for you,” Yeonjun says without sparing him a glance before returning to the rest of the group. Again, it’s the same view that stings his eyes.
After Los Angeles, it’s time for San Jose. As soon as they landed at the airport, they went straight to the concert venue to begin rehearsals. It’s one of their biggest shows for the American strand of the tour, so everyone is as nervous and busy as they get.
It could be that, and it could be because San Jose is Yeonjun’s hometown.
The stylist team have just finished their briefing for the day; familiarising themselves with the nooks and crannies backstage to mark the spots they will be at to do makeup touch ups, to standby with the next set of outfits, to help fix headsets and mic packs.
Beomgyu is just about to get lunch from the catering with the rest of his team when he spots Yeonjun resting in the corner of a different room, alone and secluded. The idol must have finished his unit song practice and is now waiting to be called for the next segment.
He takes the chance and enters the room before closing the door.
Yeonjun peeks from the couch at the click. Once he sees that it’s Beomgyu, he gives a smile that the younger could never get tired of seeng. Absolutely zero clue on how much better he just made Beomgyu feel.
“Hey, you,” Yeonjun says. “I don’t have enough time for a quickie, but maybe a blowjob,” he adds a failed wink.
“Oh my god, I’m not here for that!” Beomgyu slaps him lightly before getting himself seated right next to the older man.
After their last quarrel, they haven’t seen each other alone in the same room like this, much less slept together in the same bed. Beomgyu does miss him, but he has enough self-awareness to take notice of the irony of it all if he does initiate the ‘meeting’ first. Considering the point that he made when they argued.
It has been close to a week since then, which, in retrospect, isn’t all that long. Married couples stay apart for much longer than that and are still fine. But since it’s practically impossible not to see each other every day during this tour, the drastic change in their contact is obvious. Of course, to no one else but themselves.
Judging from Yeonjun’s reaction earlier, it is clear he’s not bothered by Beomgyu. But he still wants to apologise.
“Uh…your song with Kai…, did it- how was the practice?” Procrastinating. Classic. And he can’t even do it properly with how broken his sentence is.
“Oh, it was fine. I just hope my voice doesn’t crack during the real thing,” always as honest as ever.
“Great, I’m glad,” Beomgyu says, fiddling with his own fingers to get the next part of the words out, just like he has planned to do all along since New York. “Listen. About last time, I don’t think I ever said sorry about… what happened.” Yeonjun looks a bit shocked, like he didn’t expect Beomgyu to bring it up now, or at all. “I realised how awful I must’ve made you feel. I wasn’t trying to upset you or… or make you feel like I don’t need you. I’m sorry that it came out like that. But it’s really not about you at all. I swear-” his voice cracks. “I swear I still need you.”
The moment Beomgyu said his last words, the room becomes awfully quiet. So quiet that Beomgyu doubts whether he has actually spoken or not.
The next time there is a noise in the, it comes from Yeonjun’s slow exhale of breath. He rests his head on the back of the couch, staring into nothing but the grey wall in front of him. His eyes look so tired that Beomgyu starts to wonder if Yeonjun is getting worn out by of him.
Maybe this is it. Maybe this is how Yeonjun will finally end it all, whatever it is that they have between them.
“You know, when you say things like that, it sounds like you do want me back,” Yeonjun says. “But then you push me away, and you’re so scared of being seen with me. Even when we’re not even doing anything.”
Another streak of silence. Beomgyu is about to tell Yeonjun off for yet again pulling them both into the same countless argument - even though he technically started it first - but he’s too fixated on the first part.
“You don’t want me,” is all he says after a pause.
“I do, and I mean it more than just sexually,” the other man argues, finally looking Beomgyu’s way. “But you already knew that.”
It’s Beomgyu’s turn to look away. How does Yeonjun read him so well and so badly at the same time?
“I don’t,” Beomgyu croaks. “I didn’t.”
“You do. You knew I like you, that I’ve fallen in love with you. But you pretend not to.”
Shit. Beomgyu curses in his heart. He didn’t want to have to come to this, but Yeonjun is pulling his end of the string so strongly, dragging Beomgyu closer to himself.
Great. Now what is he supposed to say?
“You’re just confused with the sex,” he settles on saying, quietly, in fear that people outside the room might hear. And it makes him realise how stupid it is to have this conversation in the middle of a concert preparation, while some members are still rehearsing and so many staff are busy. While Yeonjun and him still have so much to do. “I’m not- I don’t think you’re really sure about this.”
“What makes you think you know what I’m sure of?” Yeonjun’s voice is raised and tone bordering harsh. Beomgyu has no time to be hurt by it as he worries more about being heard by others outside of the room.
“Shh, hyung, you’re being lou-”
“I’m tired of being told what and how I should feel, Gyu. I don’t- Can't you see how badly this is hurting me?” He unconsciously grips the part of his t-shirt on his chest. If Beomgyu could, he would cradle Yeonjun’s heart and nurse it to health, just so Yeonjun would stop hurting. Even if it meant they would never have met, or started sleeping together. But he can’t, so he does the one thing he’s good at; pushing it away.
“Hyung, I really don’t think this is the time. Now calm down and just- we’ll talk about this later. There are people outside.” He starts standing up from the couch, just to feel like he has some sort of control of the situation. As usual, he ignores Yeonjun and turns to the door instead, frantically making sure no footsteps are incoming.
“I’m right here, Gyu!” Yeonjun cries out to him. Funnily, it’s not the furrow of Yeonjun’s brows, the bulge of his eyes or even his fingers gripping his wrist that scare Beomgyu into a shock. It’s the crack in his voice that shatters Beomgyu into realisation - enough is enough. He can’t keep running away from this fucked up mess anymore.
It’s so much of the exhaustion, of weariness, and at the same time, the fondness Yeonjun holds of him in that single sentence. It’s how much Yeonjun loves him, and how that fact stays floating in the air, like leaves, unattached and flying away, never to be seen again. And it’s so many of those leaves colouring the sky in everything but blue, because it means the so many times that Yeonjun has poured his love to Beomgyu on a plate. In all those moments, Beomgyu has ignored those leaves, leaving them to dry and crumble on the ground.
“Why is it always about other people with you? I’m literally right here,” Yeonjun continues under his breath, and it’s the most heartbreaking love confession Beomgyu has ever heard. So this is the price he has to pay for being a coward.
Beomgyu’s next words come in tears. “I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry,” he tries anyway. “It’s not- I’m not hiding or- You’re special to me too, but I can’t-”
“Practice for Ghosting in two minutes. Practice for Ghosting in two minutes. Everyone involved, please stand by,” one of the staff announces with a loudspeaker.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, the one time Beomgyu might be ready to risk it all lay out his feelings to Yeonjun’s awaiting hands, they get interrupted. Yeonjun doesn’t deserve this.
The spit that he swallows feels bitter. “Hyung, I know I’m asking for a lot but can we… Can we talk about this later? I promise- I swear, we will actually talk properly and… figure things out. It’s just, not right now,” Beomgyu shamefully asks, and he can’t even bring himself to look into Yeonjun’s eyes.
When he expects Yeonjun to lash out, or worse, leave him alone, he feels hands pulling his body into a hug. Yeonjun wraps his fingers behind his nape, just like Beomgyu would him, sort of reassuring that yes , they will talk about this, and yes, they will be fine. Beomgyu doesn’t even have to hear him say anything to know what it means.
“Okay. I’ll wait for you,” Yeonjun murmurs against his ear. Beomgyu hugs him back tighter.
“Congrats everyone! That was a wrap.”
The TXT tour manager announces, and it is followed by a stream of applause and hugs. Their last show ever for the tour is finally over, marking a new milestone for the group. It’s a bittersweet moment for the members’ career, but it is nowhere near the end.
Everyone, including the staff, is painting a smile on their face. Some are crying, but no doubt they are happy tears. It is truly an emotional moment to wrap up a successful tour with almost all sold-out seats and gaining positive international recognition. But more than that, it’s a blessing that no one was seriously injured.
While the TXT members are recording their thanks to the fans, the staff occupy themselves by beginning to clean the venue. As part of the stylist team, packing all the items can really take a while. Hauling all the stage clothes into the giant suitcases is a pain in the ass that they all want to get over with.
Because the red heart suit set is worn at the opening part of the concert, they are ready to be packed away now. One by one, Beomgyu removes them from the rack to fold them and wrap in plastic, all while being careful of the beads and laces. The weight of each one is as heavy as his heart. As he gets to Yeonjun’s outfit, the elder’s words echo in his head.
He did a great job, and he can’t help but feel proud of himself. Yeonjun was there to witness every process of it. Yeonjun who saw the potential of his rough drafts even before they could be called designs, Yeonjun who walked him through building his confidence, Yeonjun who convinced him to talk to the stylist team, and Yeonjun who was there to celebrate with him.
Something akin to guilt grows in his stomach, making him feel sick. The ache tells him that he’s being stupid, that it’s not him being too blind to see. But it’s him seeing too much, but chooses not to. Ignorance is bliss in his realm,
“I didn’t know you could drive.”
It’s the day after the show in San Jose. Beomgyu’s late morning is already off to a surprising start when he gets a text notification from one of the managers.
Jisoo-hyung
Yeonjun is going to his aunt’s house at around 3pm
Would you like to come?
Me
Sorry, I don’t really understand
Jisoo-hyung
He wants someone to accompany him to see his aunt
The other members are busy with other stuffs
You don’t have to, only if you want to
Me
What about the other managers?
And how is he going there?
Jisoo-hyung
Most managers and staff are resting or looking around town
You’d be going with him in a car
The five-minute interval he took to say yes to Jisoo-hyung is between him and god.
So, there it goes. Suddenly, he’s on a three hour trip to a town in San Jose.
All he knows is that Yeonjun and his mother used to live at his aunt’s house sometime during his childhood, and that it’s a meaningful place to him for a lot of reasons.
The next message he received from Jisoo-hyung only told him to come down to the hotel lobby after lunch time and wait for a car to pick them up. And truthfully, he can’t even be bothered enough to ask for more details from Yeonjun himself, especially after yesterday’s happenings.
After around 10 minutes of waiting, Beomgyu is again struck by Yeonjun. This time because said man is taking his bags right out of Beomgyu’s hands and putting them into the boot of the car, the very one that Yeonjun was just driving into the pick-up and drop off area of the hotel.
“You already know I can drive,” he says, tone implying Beomgyu just said the stupidest thing ever. All while opening the passenger car seat door for him, patiently waiting for Beomgyu to get settled and comfortable before closing it shut.
Beomgyu waits until Yeonjun is also seated next to him to respond. “Yeah, but not here! Since when did you have an international permit?” This is such a new revelation for him. “I’ve never even been driven by you in Seoul,” he mutters.
The GPS in the car beeps to signal that whatever destination Yeonjun has put in is ready. “I should bring you around sometime then,” he suggests before finally steering the wheel to leave the hotel.
It’s interesting seeing Yeonjun drive. Beomgyu doesn’t think he is anything like those people who go crazy over men driving with one hand, or reversing the car with one arm on the back of the passenger’s seat. He has always thought they were just overreacting over the bare minimum. But now… it’s actually a bit mesmerising to witness Yeonjun do his thing behind the wheel, manning an actual machine on the very real, very dangerous road with other cars all over it. When he puts it like that, Yeonjun is doing something much cooler than he really is.
It’s also clear that Yeonjun’s not used to the roads in California just yet. Every few minutes, he would grumble to himself and complain about whatever there is to complain. The road signs, the drivers, the traffic lights. But Beomgyu looks at him in awe, still. Partly because Yeonjun does look cool when he’s trying his best, and partly because it’s been a while since both of them were alone together.
Especially after the past arguments that they’ve had, being alone in a cramped space like this makes the reality all too near. Beomgyu remembers now that Yeonjun is bringing him to see his family. Well, no. Beomgyu is following him to see is family.
No matter how hard he spins it, the romantic connotation is impossible to miss. Beomgyu can’t help but feel like a partner who’s about to ask for his boyfriend’s parents’ blessing.
Fuck. What even are they? Technically, Beomgyu has sort of implied that the feeling is mutual. They haven’t properly talked about it, and this state of not knowingness makes his stomach churn. Still, he doesn’t want to discuss it now, despite what he promised Yeonjun. The other man looks to be in a good mood and Beomgyu is not going to be the one to ruin it. If Yeonjun won’t say anything, neither will he.
The drive took close to three hours as expected. When Beomgyu stirs awake by the sound of Yeonjun shutting the door, it is already significantly darker outside. He briefly wonders if he was just kidnapped, before the door that connects the house to the garage opens.
“Yeonjunnie?” A woman’s gentle voice calls out. Yeonjun, who is about to take the bags from the boot, comes running to her.
“Imo,” Yeonjun calls back in a hug. While Beomgyu had not known Yeonjun when he was much younger, he sounded just like he was a child. A little boy embraced in the arms of a woman that he proudly calls his second mother.
Beomgyu exits the car anxiously to try be helpful and get the bags instead of just staring at them while they exchange ‘I missed you’s and how have you been’s. Except, he doesn’t know how to open the boot and he’s making too much noise.
“This is Beomgyu?” Yeonjun’s aunt says, and Beomgyu is so shocked at hearing his name out of her mouth that he just stares at her awkwardly.
“Yeah, that’s him,” Yeonjun calls him with his hand. Beomgyu gives a polite bow and hugs his auntie back.
“Such a pretty boy… I hope you are enjoying America so far,” she says, her eyes crinkling while she smiles, and suddenly, Beomgyu misses his mother so much.
“I am! Thank you so much for having me here, auntie,” Beomgyu lets himself be brought into the house by her hand on his back.
He lets his eyes wander into the first ever American household he has stepped into. More than that though, the foreign feelings comes from entering into such an intimate place of Yeonjun’s life. This is where he grew up, albeit it was only for several years. This is where he dreamt of becoming a dancer. This is where he was loved, nurtured, raised to be the lovely person that he is now. And that, Beomgyu feels upon his entrance, upon receiving his aunt’s warmth, upon sensing the traces of Yeonjun’s childhood. This is where the pre-teenage Choi Yeonjun lived.
Yeonjun’s aunt has cooked dinner for them both. A Korean-American fusion spread on the table prepared by her and her husband.
It’s nice to finally eat home-cooked Korean meals. Beomgyu hadn’t even realised how much he had missed it. Even back in Seoul, he was always delivery or catering food. He didn’t expect to feel so close to his mother while in America, when they’re so much further apart physically.
They talk over dinner, but it’s mainly Beomgyu being asked questions about his job. Particularly in relation to being TXT, especially Yeonjun’s, stylist.
“It’s been great. I’m still quite new at the job, but I like it so far,” he says. Every word flows easily from his mouth because despite all the racket, all the recent predicaments, there’s nothing else he’d rather die doing.
The aunt’s face looks happy hearing Beomgyu’s response, like he is her own son. “That’s great. Have they been treating you well? Is Junnie easy to work with? He didn’t give you any trouble, did he?”
A frown is painted on Yeonjun’s eyebrows to accompany his stuffy cheeks. “Imo! Of course not.”
Beomgyu lets out a chuckle at the exchange. “No, hyung has been great to me. Everyone else too, actually.” He takes a peek at Yeonjun’s reaction, marvelling at his full cheeks that are now dusted pink. Weak.
The woman just laughs. “I’m glad then. Come on, darling, eat more.”
After dinner, Beomgyu is brought upstairs into one of the rooms in the house.
“It’s kinda a store room now, but me and my mum used to stay in here for three years,” Yeonjun says.
One side of the room is mostly boxes and shelves of random stuffs; old books, unused devices, his cousin’s toys, and so on. Another side of the room has a medium-sized bed with more things under it. It’s not cluttered per se, but it’s clear no one has been living here for a while.
Yeonjun stands tall in the middle of the room, but Beomgyu imagines his much smaller self playing in here, or having a nap after school, or talking to his mother before sleeping. He wonders what kind of kid Yeonjun was. If he was a troublemaker or was really gentle. If he liked doing homeworks or was just so so. If he clings to his mother in his sleep and tells her he loves him every night.
“It’s funny because I didn’t even spend that long here, but somehow… I feel that this period of my life was so… special to me,” Yeonjun says to the still air in the room. “It’s not like I remember my friends from here anyway, which is ridiculous. There’s nothing really tying me here to this place except for my aunt and uncle.”
Beomgyu sits on one side of the bed. He knows Yeonjun doesn’t need him to respond, but he does anyway. “You told me once that this is when you started to seriously dream of becoming a dancer. Maybe that’s why. That’s what’s tying you back to this place.”
Yeonjun’s eyes go from wandering on random spots of the walls to looking right at Beomgyu. He looks a bit confused as he asks, “I told you that?”
“Yeah. Well, you said it in your sleep. Kinda. After we… slept together. I think you were already halfway asleep at the time,” Beomgyu tells him. Yeonjun gives him a weird expression, which Beomgyu reads as him being impressed. Or creeped out.
Then, he joins Beomgyu on the bed. They don’t say anything while staring at the floor. Silently, they both reach the agreement that it’s time they had the talk. The one that Beomgyu has promised him.
“I like you,” Yeonjun starts first. “So much. I know that you’ve known that for a while, but I wish I had the chance to tell you that properly. I like you a lot, and I’d be stupid to not realise that you feel the same for me. Am I right?” As usual, he is blunt all the way.
Beomgyu sighs. Yeonjun is so in his element today, always brave and almost. He deserves the same from Beomgyu too, so he nods.
“Why are you so afraid of being with me?”
Horrible. Beomgyu wants to curse himself for ever giving that impression to the other man. But he himself knows that it’s not an ‘impression’. What Yeonjun perceives is real. He is scared.
Catching Beomgyu’s reluctance, Yeonjun tries to help. “Is it your career? You don’t wanna risk it?” He finds Beomgyu’s fingers and holds them in his own ones, sending a message that they’re both in a safe space now and Beomgyu can tell him anything he wants to.
It’s stupid when the right answer comes from Yeonjun’s mouth, but it’s not like he doesn’t think Yeonjun doesn’t know it already. Still, he feels guilt, shame, and so much emotional fatigue that it strikes his ability to speak.
“I really wanna make us work, you know,” Yeonjun says with a sad frown. Beomgyu’s throat is definitely closing up now.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you hanging, or ignore you like that,” he mutters. “I was hoping that if I pretend it’s not real, maybe you’ll forget about me, and I’ll forget about you too.”
“Beomgyu. You’re not only lying to me, you’re lying to yourself too. That’s not fair to either of us, you know?”
“I know, I’m sorry. I realised it wasn’t making any of us feel better, but I just couldn’t bear ending it with you.”
Immediately, Yeonjun pulls him into a tight hug. “Please don’t say that. Don’t say you wanna end it with me. We can make it work. We haven’t even tried yet. Please,” he begs from the younger man. It hits Beomgyu that Yeonjun is afraid he might give up and run away. Completely this time. “Tell me, please. What is it that makes you so afraid?”
Beomgyu removes himself from the hug to pull his knees to his chest as a form of defence for the absolute bullshit he’s gonna reveal to Yeonjun. “You’re gonna hate me for it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I just think I have so much more to lose if we were dating. Compared to you.”
“Why?”
Beomgyu takes a pause before revealing. “I got accepted to work at this company by someone’s recommendation, meaning I wasn’t even properly qualified to actually get the job. Hundreds of people try to get in everyday, and they got me, a random nobody from Daegu.”
He takes a breath before continuing, “That’s how I got in so young. Thankfully, they liked me, but I had to work extra hard to live up to my name to the rest of the team. Not that they ever bother me for it. Like I said, they’ve been great so far. But one wrong step and I could go back to the start.”
He guesses that’s where the fear comes from. Yeonjun might call it irrational, but it’s a reality he’s had to face ever since getting himself involved with the idol.
“I just don’t think we fit, either. You’re just so… you. You’re so great and loved by so many people. And then there’s me,” Beomgyu chuckles.
“Shut up, what the fuck. Don’t say that. You’re amazing too and I lo-, I wouldn’t have liked you if I didn’t think you’re perfect as you are.” Yeonjun gets visibly upset at Beomgyu’s words.
“Jun,” Beomgyu ignores him and holds one of Yeonjun’s cheeks instead, tracing the corner of his jawline with his fingers. “We both have responsibilities and I don’t want any of us ruining it for the other. You know how much my job means to me, and I know how much yours means to you. No matter how much you say you don’t care if you get caught.”
Yeonjun holds both of his wrists. “We don’t have to get ourselves caught. We can just- Let’s do it the right way. Let’s tell the company that we want to date.”
The five seconds of silence following Yeonjun’s last words is so loud that Beomgyu thinks he misheard it.
“No.”
“Yes! We’ll talk to them properly, tell them that our feelings are genuine and we’re not taking it lightly. That we’ll work hard to make it work, but that they’ll help us with our privacy and protect us when it comes down to it.”
Beomgyu looks at Yeonjun like he’s lost his mind. “You’ve lost your mind.”
“Look, I’m serious. Why do we have to wait to be caught, then possibly get in trouble, and let it ‘ruin’ our lives?” Yeonjun exclaims, heavy on his finger quotations. “If we tell them first, they’d be prepared for it. We’ll be extra careful of course, but just in case something goes wrong…”
He thinks about it. “I don’t know if that’ll be enough…”
“Gyu,” Yeonjun tightens his hold on Beomgyu. “You said I was special to you. Did you mean that?”
In a heartbeat. “Yes. That was real.”
“Then, would it be so bad if we just… give it a try first? I don’t know how serious you are about me, but I like you so much and I’m willing to do this in a way that would be the safest for you. Don’t you think I’m worth a try?”
“Of course I think you’re worth a try. I just don’t wanna end up being a burden to you, or to myself,” Beomgyu says. “Sorry. I hate myself for being selfish, but I can’t pretend you’re more important than my career. Not yet, at least.”
Yeonjun just smiles at Beomgyu’s confession. “That’s okay, but I’m not giving up on you either. I still want you to always be the one to keep my ring safe.” Yeonjun intertwines their fingers. “Part of the reason I fell in love with you is because of your commitment to your career. I think you’re so cool and hardworking, and I hate that you don’t see yourself the way I see you. I hate that you push me away from anything related to your job, even though your job revolves around me. I hate that you don’t let me love you like I love your clothes. But I wish that could change soon.”
Clearly, Beomgyu has a lot of issues he needs to resolve. He touches Yeonjun’s forehead with his own to say sorry. “Soon,” he confirms, and Yeonjun repeats. The breaths that they share are warmer than the temperature of the room, and it makes Beomgyu want to forget everything.
He nudges his face lower and lower to Yeonjun’s ear, to his cheek, and finally until his nose hits the juncture of his neck, then takes an absolutely shameless, deep breath at the skin there. “You smell nice.”
Yeonjun twitches at Beomgyu’s sudden proximity. “Stop that. You’re just trying to distract me.”
Beomgyu ignores him and kisses him right there, where Yeonjun’s natural black hair is starting to grow from the roots of his nape. He feels the skin there with the wrinkles of his lips, mapping the shape of his neck like it’s a treasure hunt.
“Just give it to me please, just this once. I don’t wanna think about it now,” Beomgyu admits ina whisper. He half expects Yeonjun to tell him off, but from the way the older pushes him to lay on the bed horizontally, it’s not the case.
“Promise me that we’ll talk to them first. Promise me you won’t chicken out,” Yeonjun asks from him.
“Shit,” Beomgyu curses both to himself and Yeonjun. Nothing gets out of sight with this man. “Yeah, I promise. Now please…,”
That seems to satisfy him because without wasting a second, he kisses Beomgyu right on the mouth. If Beomgyu could speak right now, he would actually scream out of relief. But he returns the kisses instead, tongue and spit, hungry and yearning for intimacy that he hasn’t given and been given for awhile. Now that he’s come to admit his feelings, he realises how much more he must’ve liked Yeonjun than he thought, judging from how much he misses this close contact. Fuck, he’s so fucked.
“I can hear you thinking,” Yeonjun grumbles. “Focus on me.” His knee is nudged in between Beomgyu’s spread legs, almost making the man squeak. Beomgyu has to gain a little control by holding Yeonjun’s torso and shoulders.
“I am focusing on you, idiot,” Beomgyu tries to look unphased, but he gives in to pleasure and rocks his hips to the hard ball of knee right in the middle of his crotch. “Mmh-” he lets out.
“That good? I haven’t even done anything,” Yeonjun smirks. His deft fingers are quick to slip under Beomgyu’s t-shirt, crawling on the skin and rubbing the pads on his nipples.
This isn’t anything new. Beomgyu can read Yeonjun in the bedroom as easily as breathing. He knows Yeonjun’s favourite way of pulling him apart, knows Yeonjun’s favourite position, knows Yeonjun’s weak spots. Now though, the hyper-sensitivity is making him restless. He feels like a teenage boy who just hit puberty. Unknowing, but wanting all at the same time. Could it be the change in their dynamic tonight? The transparency, honesty, vulnerability attached to them tonight, experimenting a different direction of their relationship.
“Jun,” Beomgyu calls with a gulp. “Can we please? I don’t wanna- I can’t wait anymore, I don’t know why,” he confesses. It sounds crazy to say it like that. Like he’s some sex-crazed pervert. But the desperation runs deeper than that. If Yeonjun doesn’t agree with him, he might actually cry.
Thankfully, Yeonjun doesn’t tease him and gets to work right away. “I brought condoms,” he says out of nowhere and grabs one of his bags from the floor to get several of the square, plastic packets and a small bottle. “And lube.”
Beomgyu lifts his head. “You were expecting to fuck me here? All this time?” he laughs at the ridiculousness. “Were you that confident that the conversation was gonna go well?”
“Shut up, you’re the one who told me to always be prepared,” Yeonjun takes his sweatpants and t-shirt off before climbing on the bed again. He helps Beomgyu take off his clothes too, putting them to the side to worry about later.
The irony isn’t lost on Beomgyu; how his career revolves around dressing Yeonjun in clothes, but the other is always the one undressing him.
He wonders about something. “Did you actually want me to come along in the first place? Or were the other guys really busy?”
“If sleeping the whole day counts as busy, then yeah, they were,” he says. There is a little pause, a little train of thought crashing into him before he continues. “I wanted you to come with me, though. For some reason, I…really, really wanted you to see my aunt.”
Then, he really gets to work. Fingering Beomgyu is muscle memory to him at this point. Yeonjun knows the right pace, when to add his fingers, when to give Beomgyu a break, and when it’s ready. This stage of sex, Beomgyu always lets the other take the reins. It’s not his favourite part - although Yeonjun does make it feel better than when he does it himself - so he prefers to use the time to find his pacing and look at Yeonjun instead.
To distract him, Yeonjun likes to suck kisses along his naked, splayed body. Some parts of Beomgyu’s stomach and thighs are coloured with fading, yellowish marks. He likes them because they divert the attention from the shape of his body, but Yeonjun likes them because they’re on his body. It’s weird.
Nonetheless, it does work because the time that Yeonjun takes to put on a condom on his hard cock makes Beomgyu realise that he’s finally ready.
Yeonjun’s body is slick with a light layer of sweat, and it makes his pale skin shine on some angles under the light. His knees are on both sides of Beomgyu’s thighs, and it follows the line of his waist with the indents that Beomgyu is so obsessed with. He holds Yeonjun there as the other begins entering him slowly.
The first few seconds are always uncomfortable, but Yeonjun tries his best to make it as painless as possible. He does everything; asks Beomgyu if it hurts, rubs whatever slither of skin his hands find, makes sure the pillow under his hips is there, kisses him, licks his nipple, caresses his hair.
Then, when he thinks Beomgyu is ready, he starts grinding. Slowly but steady, waiting for Beomgyu to catch up with his rhythm and be engrossed in the pleasure. Beomgyu can’t help but moan during this part. It could be a chorus of curses, gibberish, or ahh and mhms.
Finally, comes the best and worst part. Yeonjun experiments little by little, pushing his cock in and out of Beomgyu to see if he’s comfortable enough to feel the pleasure from it. It’s easy to know, because Beomgyu puts on an expression that he doesn’t do anywhere else, with anyone else. Yeonjun likes that so much.
“I’m going faster,” he tells Beomgyu. Once they find a rhythm, it’s heaven for both of them. Yeonjun can’t hide the bliss from his throaty groans, and Beomgyu squirms little by little when it gets too much, but still mind-numbingly good.
“Oh my god,” he cries to himself. “I missed this, Jun. Missed this so much, missed you,” he repeats like a mantra. Yeonjun spreads his knees wider, completely lifting Beomgyu’s calves over the bed to get the right angle.
“Me too, Gyu. I want this. I love this with you,” the other breathes out. They both still have more than half a mind to utter almost-complete thoughts and take in each other’s presence. Beomgyu’s hands move from pressing at Yeonjun’s waist to his shoulders, wrapping his thin arms behind Yeonjun’s neck and slowly pulling his body down, closer to his own.
Now, it’s all skin against skin. The weight of the contact overwhelms Beomgyu in a good way, knowing that there’s someone so close to him that he can’t even see the front of his face. He wraps his legs around Yeonjun’s waist and the back of thighs, too.
“Gyu,” Yeonjun calls. “What’s gotten into you?”
Beomgyu knows the underlying meaning of that question. You’re rarely ever this clingy.
He feels like he just got caught red-handed, just like a little child again. “I don’t know,” he says, tears welling up his eyes. “I’m sorry, I don’t know. Sorry for hurting you.” I wish it wasn't so easy to love you.
It’s better in this position because Yeonjun can’t see his face either. But he’s brought to a surprise when he feels warm and wet lips kissing the length of his neck and collarbones, where, on Yeonjun, he finds the most pretty. “Shh, enough with it. It’s okay, we’ll be okay,” he murmurs into the Beomgyu skin as if chanting a spell. A spell that, magically, does calm him down.
This is it. This is what he was looking for. Reassurance and steadiness. He needed Yeonjun to make love to him, to show him that it’s fine. This is fine. There’s nothing to be afraid of.
Yeonjun slips his right arm under Beomgyu’s nape and uses the leverage on his elbow to speed up his thrusts. Beomgyu is so taken aback by the change in the pace that he can’t stop letting out squeak after squeak at every deeper hit to his prostate. One of his hands is nailed to the bed by Yeonjun’s intertwined fingers, where he can feel one of it donning the thin, black ring. With his legs spread by Yeonjun’s knees on either side too, he has nowhere to escape. Not to mention, his cock rubbing against the other’s abs pushes his sensitivity to the limit.
“Shit,” Beomgyu cusses. He tosses his head back as he writhes at the rising pleasure. Yeonjun keeps a relentless steady rhythm, and it takes everything out of Beomgyu not to cum then and there.
“Don’t hold back,” Yeonjun reminds him. His fingers softly scratch the back of Beomgyu’s head. “Just let go, let it go, love.”
Beomgyu does let it go. He thinks it’s the hardest he’s ever come in a while, but the sensation doesn’t stop even after the last spurt, because Yeonjun keeps on thrusting to chase his own release. As he basks in the post-clarity nut, he thinks he might get hard again from the mere fact that Yeonjun is still using his body to find his pleasure. It’s sick, because he’s only now realising how Yeonjun has him wrapped around his little finger.
When Yeonjun finally comes, he groans into Beomgyu’s shoulder and rests his head there. For minutes, they let each other come down from their highs and stay quiet in the embrace. Beomgyu plays with Yeonjun’s hair splayed on his chest, getting himself used to the feeling of softening cock in his hole. Yeonjun himself looks snug to stay in that position.
Time is static for the both of them. Beomgyu wishes this is the reality forever. He wishes he can stay here with Yeonjun, uncaring of what tomorrow brings, unlearning of upcoming risks. He wishes that they had met in a different circumstance. He wishes Yeonjun could have fallen in love with someone else, someone more on his level, someone that could keep up with him.
Still, promises are promises. He’ll wait for tomorrow, Yeonjun’s hand in his, and walk together on the path that they dreamt of. Maybe something will change, maybe they won’t.