Chapter Text
“Fuck you,” Soobin hisses. He lets go of his controller in defeat, watching it fall onto the bed with a passive aggressive thwump. “Seriously, fuck you.”
Beside him, Beomgyu is trying his very best not to send himself into an early grave from the force of his laughter. This was the fifth round of Mario Kart they’d played for the night. It had been a request from Soobin, followed shortly by a promise that he was going to wipe the floor with Beomgyu so hard he’d get whiplash.
As it stands, though, Beomgyu is on a five game winning streak, and Soobin is seriously losing what little is left of his will to live.
“Shut up, Gyu,” Soobin bites, voice half harsh and half pout. Beomgyu only laughs harder, shaking so hard that the controller to Soobin’s Switch is dangerously close to falling from his fingertips and off the side of his bed.
It takes another minute before Beomgyu can finally pull himself together. There’s only one thing he likes more than playing games with Soobin; it’s when he completely and irrefutably Destroys him in whatever game they’re playing. Especially Mario Kart.
“You,” he finally says, voice still full of air, “Are such a loser, Choi Soobin.”
“ Hyung ,” the older corrects, indignant. The sullen expression hasn’t faded from his face, and he’s still refusing to pick up his controller.
“After that performance? I don’t think I’m going to call you that ever again.”
Soobin reaches over to Beomgyu’s side of his unmade bed and hits him on the bicep— and for someone that works out as often as Choi Soobin (read: never, unless hitting the grind on League of Legends counts), it hurt a deceptive amount.
“Hey!” Beomgyu whines just like a child, letting go of the controller to nurse his newly wounded arm. “Stop being such a crybaby. What happened to the confidence earlier? The ‘ I’m totally going to wipe the floor with you, Choi Beomgyu’. ”
“Whatever,” Soobin replies, rolling his eyes and turning over onto his back. He stares up at the ceiling with a look that’s something like despair, and if Beomgyu were a kinder person he’d have some sympathy.
But he isn’t, so he places his hand in Soobin’s hair that’s greasy from the aftermath of one too many assignments and ruffles it with a condescending coo.
“Better luck next time, Soobin-ah. Pick a game you’re good at, okay?”
“I am good at Mario Kart. You’re just sweaty. I’m never playing with you again.”
Beomgyu’s grin only widens. He scoots back on the bed so that he can lay flat on his stomach, cheeks resting on his hands as he stares at the irritated side profile of his best friend.
“No, you aren’t. And you have a pimple— on the side of your nose.”
Soobin lifts a hand up self-consciously, feeling around for the tell-tale bump of acne. He turns and glowers at Beomgyu, expression completely unimpressed.
“No. You’re a tryhard, that’s what it is,” he grumbles, nose still hidden behind his long fingers. “Maybe if you spent less time sweating over Mario Kart you’d be able to get some bitches.”
Now this, Beomgyu finds insulting. Calling him a sweat is nothing. It’s an indirect compliment, really; the closest thing he’ll hear to praise about his gaming skills from his arch nemesis number one. But insulting his ability to ‘get bitches’?
“What’s that supposed to mean?” It’s Beomgyu’s turn to frown now, brow bone creasing. “I get plenty of bitches.”
Soobin looks at him for a long while before bursting into laughter.
“No,” he simply says, head shaking. “No, actually, you don’t.”
Beomgyu’s frown deepens and he thinks, okay, maybe Soobin isn’t all wrong. In the fifteen (unfortunate) years he’d known Soobin, Beomgyu had never really got bitches.
He’d had a girlfriend before, which is more than Soobin had had, and he’d been kissed at least three times during his first year at University. Seoul people were just built different than Daegu natives like him, he liked to reason. So really— it wasn’t at any fault of his own.
When he tells Soobin this in a sour tone, he’s only met with more laughter. He gives Soobin’s thigh a hard kick and seriously contemplates removing his name from their next lease.
“So what,” he eventually huffs out, already puffing up his chest. “At least I’m good at Mario Kart . You suck, and you can’t get any bitches— what does that make you?”
Much to his displeasure, Soobin isn’t very phased by this.
“I get a lot more action than you do, Gyu-yah.”
Beomgyu rolls his eyes. “Giving Kai googly eyes doesn’t count as action, hyung.”
Soobin bristles and sits up. He stares down at Beomgyu for a long time, eyebrows slightly raised in that familiar judgmental expression.
“You,” Soobin eventually says, prodding him in the middle of the forehead, “ need to get laid.”
Beomgyu snorts, the tips of his ears warm.
“Hyung, I don’t need to get laid. I could get laid if I want to. You don’t know that.”
Soobin looks at him like he absolutely does know before rolling his eyes. Soobin scoots back on the bed to collapse against his pillows, pulling out his phone. After a moment Beomgyu follows, Switch and video games now forgotten as he rests grumpily beside him.
“It’s none of your concern, anyway,” he says after a moment, trying to hide the obvious pout in his voice.
“No, no, it is my concern,” Soobin begins in the hyung tone, and Beomgyu groans. “I’m your hyung. It’s my job to look after you, Gyu— and I promised your mom I would. And this? This is in my realm of concern, okay. It’s about your wellbeing.”
Beomgyu has to bite back the snarky comment that bubbles up on his tongue, but he allows himself to think multiple negative thoughts about the older for a moment.
As if Soobin would know about the correlation between general wellbeing and having sex; as far as Beomgyu knows, Soobin hasn’t got it on since the first time they went to a party in their hometown and he’d found him dazed in a closet at the end of the night.
Instead, he just crosses his arms resolutely. “And if I decide my wellbeing could really do with getting laid, I’ll take care of it.”
“How are you gonna do that? Tell them you’re a Diamond I?”
“It’s a lot better than if I had to tell them I’m still stuck in Bronze.”
Soobin hits him again on the bicep.
“Can you be serious for once, Choi Beomgyu?” Soobin says, exasperated as he usually is. “I try to help you out and this is what I get.”
Beomgyu arches an eyebrow. “What’s so helpful about telling me I don’t have bitches? Thanks, Soobin-ah. I had no idea.”
“That wasn’t supposed to be the helpful part,” the older male answers, the edge of attitude leaving his voice. “I had another suggestion, but I get it. Choi Beomgyu is too tough and cool to listen to his best friend. It’s fine.”
The crease between Beomgyu’s brows deepens. He rolls over onto his side, cheek squished against the back of his hand. “What is it?”
Soobin regards him carefully, as if he’s half-expecting Beomgyu to break out into another argument before he even gets the chance to answer. When he doesn’t, and he realises that he’s been successfully placated, he tilts the screen of his phone towards Beomgyu.
“This,” he explains, as Beomgyu peers down at his phone, taking in the bright pink sign up page, “this is my suggestion.”
Beomgyu doesn’t know what to say for a second. He stares, expression void and blank, before finally saying: “seriously, hyung? Tinder ?”
“Why do you sound like that? It’s a good suggestion. I was talking to Taehyunie, and—”
“Kang Taehyun uses Tinder?”
Soobin looks a little like he’s been stung at the suggestion. He frowns, lower lip jutting out. “Nevermind if Taehyun uses Tinder, okay? But it’s a good suggestion, really. You need to meet people. All you do is rot away in this apartment… and seriously, don’t give me that look, it’s true. Lux isn’t going to hold your hand.”
“Okay, first of all, rude. I do plenty of people meeting, hyung.”
“You do plenty of people meeting with my friends. The ones I introduce you too.”
“So what? They’re our friends now, hyung. Just because you want to kiss Kai on the mouth doesn’t mean he belongs—”
Soobin holds up a threatening hand and Beomgyu flinches, going silent. Classic Pavlov’s Dog, he thinks, and then frowns. How dare his friend use the rules of classical conditioning against him.
“Enough, Gyu. Whatever. I just thought it might be fun for you, but okay. If you’re too scared that you won’t get matches, you can just say that.”
If there’s one thing that Beomgyu won’t do, it’s back down from a challenge. So the moment those words leave Soobin’s mouth he’s already pushing himself up by the arm, looking a mixture of mortified and determined.
“Excuse me. I never said that.”
Soobin looks at him like he’s see through. “You didn’t have to.”
“Shut up, Choi Soobin. I never said that, or implied it. I could get matches. I’d get a lot of matches, thank you very much.”
“Really?”
“Really. I’d get a lot more than you. I’d even get a lot more than Taehyun, if he actually uses it.”
“Stop talking about Taehyun on Tinder, seriously. You’re pushing your luck.” And he really is, because Soobin makes a gesture with his hand, and Beomgyu flops back down to surrender his defeat.
“I would get matches, hyung. I’d get a lot of matches. Have you not seen how hot and sexy I am?”
“Yeah, yeah. Hot and sexy. Right. Are you going to follow my advice for once?”
Beomgyu pretends to think about it for a moment. Then, with all the brattitude he can muster, he shakes his head and sticks his tongue out.
“I would never.”
Soobin sighs, thoroughly defeated in both Mario Kart and life itself.
“You,” he says, pointing, “are the worst dongsaeng I’ve ever had.”
ฅ
Despite his typical refusal to listen to anything Soobin has to say, Beomgyu does succumb to his advice a few hours later.
He’s tucked under the covers of his own bed, bedroom barely illuminated by the glow of his phone. He’s scrolling down Twitter mindlessly when his attention is taken by an ad.
It’s for a different dating app this time, but the concept is the same. Beomgyu finds his mind drifting back to the conversation from earlier, and Soobin’s insistence that it would be good for Beomgyu to find some people.
And while Beomgyu had been more than adamant earlier that he didn’t intend on following the older’s advice, now that he’s alone, he can admit to himself that it isn’t a terrible suggestion.
Soobin was sort of correct. Beomgyu likes to think of himself as an extrovert, but ever since moving from Daegu to Seoul for his first year of university, things had fallen off. His obsession with video games had grown exponentially, mainly because of his new living circumstances. Before, there was always someone responsible to kick Beomgyu and Soobin off their computers, or out of the PC bang.
But now, the most responsible person between them was Soobin, and even he was not immune to the trap of video game addiction.
He wasn’t entirely friendless, though. Soobin had adopted two other freshmen the same year Beomgyu had started, and together they had formed something of a group between them. Taehyun was the brains, Huening Kai was the cutes, and Soobin was the hugs.
Beomgyu had fit in there somewhere too, especially during his first year. But nowadays he was much more like a third (or rather, fourth ) wheel. Taehyun, Kai and Soobin were attached at the hips. There was room for Beomgyu in their dynamic, but not like that.
Not that he wanted a place, either— he was happy for them and whatever strange, feeling-acknowledgment-avoidant bond they’d formed. But he couldn’t lie and say it didn’t make him feel jealous at times.
Beomgyu liked to be adored. When was someone going to adore him?
He finds himself rolling onto his stomach, the app store open. His stomach is already twisting when he types in tinder. He hates the blue download button, and then waits.
The ten seconds it takes for Beomgyu are seconds of reflection. This was definitely not his proudest moment; he never imagined himself being the dating app type but, he reasoned, desperate times called for desperate measures.
He’s sure that this is one of them.
Beomgyu opens the app. It takes a moment to load up, popping up that same pink screen from earlier. He tries not to think about why Soobin had the app downloaded earlier as he presses the sign up button with a timid thumb.
The sign up process is not dissimilar to other social media apps. It asks for his name, age, to select boys or girls (he picks both after a second of thought) and other information about him that he quickly skips over. He isn’t about to broadcast to the world that Choi Beomgyu from Seoul University who works at the restaurant across the road is so down bad that he’s on Tinder.
He’d like at least a little anonymity.
So, when it comes to asking for pictures of him, he takes a while to choose. The first he picks out is from his Instagram a few months ago. He’s sitting at a table in a cafe, drink raised to his lips as he looks out the window. Half his face is obscured.
Taehyun had snapped the picture for him. It’s cute. Private. His hair was still long back then, tickling the sides of his neck.
The second picture he chooses is more recent. It’s a mirror selfie with his new red hair. His phone is up to his face, half-hiding it once again, but he thinks that the outfit he’s wearing—an oversized button up tucked into black jeans—makes his waist look nice. Small, even.
The third picture is old once again. It’s from a few months back. This one shows his face the most clearly. His brown hair is short and styled neatly over his forehead. He’s wearing a soft cardigan and a turtle neck and looking awfully innocent. He thinks that this is kind of a terrible representation of his personality, and for that? It’s perfect.
The final picture he chooses is a group one. Kai, Taehyun and Soobin are all holding hands and Beomgyu is leaning in from the side. They’re all wearing suits in various stages of completeness. Soobin is missing his blazer entirely, and Beomgyu doesn’t have an undershirt on. His blazer is only buttoned up halfway up his chest, showing what he can only describe as a tasteful yet whorish amount of skin.
The last thing he has to do is add a short description about himself. It stumps him for a good few minutes before he decides on what to write; it’s more to spite Soobin than anything else (a big fuck you, middle finger up that the older will never know about) when he writes diamond I and leaves it at that.
Once his profile is set up, the app takes him through to some instructions. He skips through them without a second thought, because how hard could it really be? He’s a gamer , he just knows how things should be done.
(When he has to google not even fifteen seconds later when he should be swiping left or right, it’s between him and God.)
The first profile that comes up is a, put plainly, not good. The man in the pictures is okay. He has an average looking face and black hair. There are a few pictures of him alone, and two with other people. He has a nice kind of face. He looks like he’d hold the door open for Beomgyu and offer to pay on dates.
But he also looks about 5’6”, and his outfits are questionable at best. His bio tells Beomgyu that he’s an Economics major, which is an instant deduction, and when Beomgyu clicks over to his Instagram and opens his following list, it’s full of girls. The majority of whom are in bikinis.
Beomgyu swipes left.
The next few profiles are much of the same. Beomgyu swipes left on five people in a row, and is beginning to feel like his standards might just be too high. Maybe he was expecting too much from Tinder. Maybe he was the problem.
But then, it’s like all of his prayers have been answered and handed back to him on a silver platter.
His name is Yeonjun. The first picture is nothing short of hot. He’s wearing a grey zip up that’s hiding his chin, and looking off to the side. His blond highlights are dirty. He looks almost sleazy. But Beomgyu is into it.
He swipes to the next picture.
He’s in a blue fuzzy jacket this time. A sharp silver choker is adorning his neck, and the shirt he’s wearing beneath the jacket is clinging to his skin. He’s standing in front of a graffitied wall, hair styled down and looking wet. His eyes are sharp and inviting, and the mole on his cheek is alluring. Sexy. He swipes again.
The next picture has his heart fluttering. He has pink in this one. He’s wearing a black suit and turtleneck. His hand is in his pocket, hips cocked to the side like he’s asking for
something
, and the gaze he’s giving the camera above his phone would make Beomgyu weak in the knees if he was in front of him for real.
Before he actually drools, Beomgyu forces himself to swipe to the next picture.
This time it’s Yeonjun and a very familiar face. They look like they’re at a party—Yeonjun is sitting on the edge of a plant, wearing loose khakis and a hoodie. Taehyun is unexpectedly sitting in front of him on the grass, wearing shorts and bright pink trainers.
So they have a mutual friend, Beomgyu thinks. He stares at the picture for a few more seconds before flicking over to the last one.
This one has a completely different vibe to the ones before. It’s nighttime and he’s in a park, holding a badminton racket in one hand. His block shirt is sleeveless, tucked into a pair of blue jeans.
His eyes are squinted with laughter, and his hair is brushed back on either side of his forehead. He looks cute. Boyfriendly, even.
Before Beomgyu can let his thoughts stray too far into a direction they shouldn’t, he’s tracking his eyes down to the bio. It tells him this:
Yeonjun goes to the same school as him. He’s two years older. They have similar music taste, if the Spotify linked is anything to go by. He has over ten thousand followers on Instagram. Then he reads the text.
First drink on me?
6’0”
Just here for fun
It’s the last sentence that digs into Beomgyu’s chest a little— just here for fun. Beomgyu tries to reason with himself though. There’s no reason that should upset him. Yeah, maybe Yeonjun’s pictures are awfully attractive, but he’s never even seen him in person, much less had a conversation with him.
And plus, isn’t that what Beomgyu is here for too? For fun. To get bitches, like Soobin so eloquently put it. He knows what dating apps are like, maybe not from experience, but it isn’t hard to wager. Everyone, or the vast majority of everyone, is just there for a good time.
To hook up. To find a body. That’s it.
That’s why Beomgyu is here too, right?
He doesn’t even know Yeonjun. There’s no reason for him to be upset. All he’s seen is five pictures of him and his Instagram. He doesn’t know him, and Beomgyu isn’t shallow like that. His type isn’t just a pretty face.
He wants to be adored.
But, he thinks, thumb hovering over the screen. Maybe this will do on the meantime.
He swipes right for the first time, heart in his throat. But his entire body deflates when nothing pops up. No notification, no match screen. It just flicks over to the next person, this time a girl. Her name is Minkyung.
She has cat-like eyes, but they aren’t as pretty as Yeonjun’s.
He swipes left on her too like he’s lost something, and then powers off his phone and shoves it under his pillow. Soobin is an idiot. This was a horrible idea.
ฅ
Beomgyu is sitting in his Cognitive Psychology lecture three days later when his phone lights up with the first notification, and his attention is taken from the messy scribble of his notes. He’s expecting a message from his mother at best and Soobin at worst, probably because he strategically forgot to wash the dishes before he left this morning.
Instead, he finds something equally as terrifying.
You’ve got a new match!
And then ten seconds later, it’s followed up by:
Yeonjun sent you a new message
Beomgyu scrambles to grab his phone from the desk he’s working on, his notebook and textbook both forgotten. He almost knocks the iPad beside his elbow, too, and the person beside him gives him a sharp look. He has it in him to look sheepish for a second, bowing his head in embarrassment.
But then his attention returns right to his phone, now nestled in his hands under the table to hide it from the eyes of his Professor. He slides open the notification, thumbing in his pin, and then waits.
The chat opens up on Tinder, and there it is.
Yeonjun
hey :)
you’re really cute lol
but shy?
Me
don’t know about shy, yeonjun-ssi
but probably cute?
Yeonjun
hyung
yeonjun-hyung is fine
we aren’t going to act like strangers now, are we beomgyu-yah? ㅋㅋㅋ
Beomgyu’s stomach is burning. The apples of his cheeks and the tips of his ears grow hot. He fidgets in his seat, chances half a glance upwards at his lecturer to make sure he’s still prattling off with his back to the class, and then looks back down.
Me
depends, yeonjun-hyung
do you wanna be more than strangers?
Yeonjun
a lot more than strangers
if you wanna know what i want to be, i’ll tell you tonight
drinks? my place or yours?
Beomgyu feels like he’s fifteen again, crushing on the prettiest girl at his school. He feels giddy in that nostalgic way his old, jaded adult heart hasn’t felt in years. Yeonjun is hot, and flirty, and cocky. He’s making Beomgyu’s hands sweat and he hasn’t even met him yet.
But. But, Beomgyu reminds himself. He’s never done this before— this thing that he thinks Yeonjun is suggesting. While he’s never really been on a date before that wasn’t being the unfortunate fourth-wheel and photographer for his stupid friends, he doesn’t plan on being the type to put out on the first one.
He wants to be coy. He wants to be chased.
Me
you can tell me
but i make no promises that you’re gonna get it
tonight, that is
and we can drink at yours
roommate annoying @ mine
Yeonjun takes a while to answer back this time. Beomgyu is starting to feel the beginnings of dread settling in his chest. Maybe he’d scared Yeonjun off. Maybe Yeonjun was only interested in those who were willing to give him just what he wanted when he wanted it.
He was certainly handsome enough to demand so. Beomgyu doesn’t think that there’s many people who’d deny him of it, either. Does Beomgyu even want to?
Yeonjun
thats okay
i can be very persuasive, beams
gimme your number?
gotta send you the address
He stares at the message and has to fight down the disgusting urge to moan. No, he thinks. He doesn’t want to deny Yeonjun what he wants.
But he will. Just for tonight. It’s pathetic just staring down at a picture and a few words on a screen and feeling this much desire.
He wants Yeonjun to make it worth it first for him too.
ฅ
Beomgyu’s last class for the day is at five, but by two he’s already emotionally ready to collapse. He doesn’t think he’s digested a single thing from his lectures today—which is not necessarily par for the course, but still—and he doubts that he’ll have the mental capacity to handle anymore.
There’s only so much the average human can take, and a genuine hot single in his area is far exceeding that.
He sends a quick text to their group chat that he’s going home early, and is only a little bit upset when Taehyun only responds back with a thumbs up. So much for being an inseparable friend group.
Though once his mind is thinking about Taehyun (and how a terrible no good friend he is for not begging Beomgyu to grace them with his company) he’s reeling back to that picture, and he pulls out his phone.
He opens Tinder and clicks on Yeonjun’s profile, swiping across until he gets to the one he’s curious about.
It’s definitely Taehyun, so that means they do have a mutual friend. This means that, at the very least, Yeonjun isn’t a crazed serial killer. But, he decides, it’s probably good to ask Taehyun about him anyway. For science.
Me
yah
kang taehyun
u won’t even say i miss you???
mean taehyunie
i don’t miss you tho hyung?
Me
wow
rude
banning you from our apartment
mean taehyunie
ㅋㅋㅋ
i’m kidding
why are u leaving early?
feel sick?
Me
not quite
i have something to ask you
mean taehyunie
what is it?
Me
do you know a yeonjun
mean taehyunie
huh
oh
choi yeonjun???
yeah, i know him
why?
Me
are you friends?
mean taehyunie
somewhat
he’s my senior in the music department
why? (2)
Beomgyu debates the unspoken rules of this for a little bit. The ethics of hooking up with one of your best friends’ friends is blurry at best. Beomgyu doesn’t want to have any awkward encounters in the future, and he definitely doesn’t want Taehyun to bear the brunt of that.
But, he reminds himself. Will you even hook up tonight?
He sighs and watches Taehyun’s text bubble appear again.
mean taehyunie
choi beomgyu
don’t leave me hanging
Me
i matched with him
on tinder
mean taehyunie
oh
soobin-hyung’s idea?
Me
unfortunately
we’re meeting up tonight
for drinks
just had to make sure he’s not a serial killer
or anything bad
mean taehyunie
ah
no
he isn’t a serial killer
he’s cool, hyung
he has a lot of friends in this department
Me
a popular guy
mean taehyunie
right, especially with girls
you know what i mean, right hyung?
be safe
go home and rest your head
Beomgyu scowls down at his phone. He hates how easy he was for Taehyun to see through. No matter how confident he is in the casual act, Taehyun is impossible to get by.
And he hates how his stomach feels a little bit upset at the idea of Yeonjun being very popular with the girls. His pictures weren’t exactly the pinnacle of humility, but Beomgyu isn’t sure why he wasn’t expecting this.
But it’s okay. Beomgyu isn’t planning on hooking up with him after all. He’s never even met Yeonjun, so there’s no reason for him to act like he’s celebrity starstruck already.
He’ll go over to Yeonjun’s and get to know him. The most likely outcome is they become friends. They already have one in common, and it would be nice to have someone on his side for once.
The worst outcome? Beomgyu doesn’t want to think about that right now.
So, like Taehyun suggested, he heads home. The apartment he shares with Soobin is a fifteen minute walk from campus, but he’s so distracted that he walks three blocks past it.
Soobin and Beomgyu had started sharing this apartment when Beomgyu left Daegu. They’d grown up together over there and Soobin, blessed to be born a mere four months earlier, was the first to leave for Seoul.
Beomgyu vaguely remembers the first night Soobin was gone. He felt like he was being completely dramatic at the time, but he cried himself to sleep. Soobin was only one call or text away, but he’d spent the last half of his life spending every single day with the older.
When he really thinks about it, there’s a lot that Soobin has done that Beomgyu has to be grateful for. He was there for him when he was nine years old and his parents were separating. He was there for him when he got into his first (and last) fist-fight at thirteen years old. He was there for him when he was seventeen and struggling with his grades and the fear that they wouldn’t be good enough to chase the older’s footsteps.
And now, ironically, Beomgyu feels like he has this to be grateful for too. Despite his initial refusal and then eventual fear, he can’t deny this while he gets ready to go and meet Choi Yeonjun: he’s happy.
It feels nice to make himself look nice. It feels nice to think about how Yeonjun is going to think he looks attractive like this. Getting ready, going out, having a date—as undefined as it was—was a nice feeling.
He can understand Soobin a little bit better now when he ditches best bros gaming night for the devil duo.
Soobin gets home just before six, right as Beomgyu is leaving. He’s in the entrance way sliding on his high top converse when their door swings open and Soobin steps inside.
Immediately, Soobin is rounding Beomgyu with the most smug expression he’s ever seen.
“Yah, Choi Beomgyu,” he says. Beomgyu straights up with his laces done and avoids making eye contact. “So you do know how to take my advice after all.”
Beomgyu lets out a long suffering sigh, and then he feels arms loop around him. It melts off the frown on his face. He has to let out a laugh as he returns the hug with one arm, shaking his head.
“Shut up, Soobin-ah,” he answers back, stepping back from the hug. The smug expression isn’t entirely gone but it’s much more contained, and Beomgyu can stand to look at him now that his head doesn’t look like it’s going to inflate and fly off.
“Taehyunie told me,” Soobin explains, toeing off his own shoes. “And he showed me pictures. Yeonjun-hyung, huh? He’s hot.”
Beomgyu’s cheeks go a little pink and he slaps Soobin’s arm. “You’re not supposed to say that,” he chastises. “Think about Hyuka and Taehyunie.”
“What? They think he’s hot too.”
“Soobin-hyung.”
Soobin laughs again and ruffles Beomgyu’s hair. Then he watches as his expression falls a little, taking on something more serious.
“Be safe though, okay? I know what you’re like, Gyu.”
Beomgyu stares down at his shoes. Sometimes it’s comforting having someone who knows you so well. But sometimes, he’d like to have a little privacy in his own mind.
“I will be safe. We’re just having a drink, hyung. It’s not even a date. And who knows, he might suck. Could be a total loser. Looks aren’t everything. You can attest to that.”
Soobin doesn’t dignify the last of his sentence with a response. Instead he fixes Beomgyu with a long look, and he’s filled with the familiar feeling of being seen right through. He kind of wishes his friends would stop doing that.
Then finally, he says:
“Okay, Gyu-yah. I believe you. Be home by eleven or I’m calling the police and reporting you missing.”
Beomgyu takes one step out the door and rounds on Soobin with an open-mouth.
“Hyung!”
“What? I told your mum I’d look after you.”
Beomgyu rolls his eyes and disguises his smile. “Whatever. See you soon, hyung.”
ฅ
Yeonjun’s apartment is on the other side of campus. It takes his Uber twenty minutes to get there in the late-evening rush, but it wouldn’t be a terrible walk. Not in the day, at least. The north side of campus towards Yeonjun’s apartment is oddly scenic.
And, Beomgyu realises, that isn’t the only difference between their apartments.
Yeonjun’s apartment building is on the cusp of upscale. It’s nicer than most college students would know, but it isn’t too extravagant. Beomgyu takes a deep breath as he steps out of the Uber and shuffles onto the sidewalk. He justs stands and stares stupidly for a while, trying to convince his stomach to settle down.
Then, he pulls out his phone.
Me
yeonjunie-hyung
im here
how do i…. get in??
Yeonjun texts back right away, and he breathes a sigh of relief.
yeonjun
coming
The loose sleeves of Beomgyu’s forest green blouse are damp with sweat where he’s gripping them tightly, nerves running through his veins like wildfire. He’s trying not to chew his lower lip into oblivion, but it’s difficult when his eyes are glued to the revolving glass door, waiting for the one of the hottest men he’s ever seen (respectfully) to come out and collect him.
The wind is a little biting, and he has to question his own decision to wear shorts. They’re black and shiny, hitting tastefully above the knee. He looks good in this outfit, but it’s certainly better suited to different weather. Spring is still cold these days.
Ironically, doesn’t notice Yeonjun’s figure approaching the other side of the door. He’s pulled out of his thoughts when a voice calls out to him. It’s surprisingly soft.
“Beomgyu-yah?”
Beomgyu blinks, the world flooding back to him.
Before him stands the man he’d come here to meet. He’s dressed nicely. Loose dark-wash grey jeans, a tight-fitted white tee and a dark blazer. His hair is like it was in the first picture Beomgyu ever saw of him: dark roots, messy blonde highlights, styled off his forehead. He has a handsome smile plastered on his features, and one arm is extended—like he’s asking for a hug.
“That’s me,” Beomgyu replies, voice breathier than normal. He steps in and is more awkward than anything when he lets Yeonjun wrap the arm around him. It goes right around his waist and squeezes , and Beomgyu can smell his cologne. Citrusy, woody, a little spicy. He feels light-headed.
Yeonjun pulls back with the same relaxed smile. “You’re prettier in person,” he says, and it’s almost a purr. Beomgyu’s stomach does a somersault and heat rises to his cheeks, turning them a splotchy pink. Yeonjun is—for lack of a better word— sexy.
“Thank you,” is all he can manage back. A hand finds its way to his lower back, hot and heavy through his thin shirt. The pressure is like a shockwave and he can’t suppress a soft, tortured sigh as Yeonjun guides him through the revolving glass door and to the elevator.
“I thought you said you aren’t shy,” Yeonjun mumbles once they’re inside. The elevator doors slide shut. Beomgyu has never felt claustrophobic before, but in this small space with a man like this, every sharp intake of breath is an effort.
“I’m not shy,” he argues back, eyes glued to the door. “I’m not used to you.”
“Not used to me?”
The elevator chimes and the doors slide open. Beomgyu has never felt a rush of both relief and regret quite like this.
“Not used to someone like you,” he admits as they step out together. Yeonjun leads him three doors down. They fall still in front of the door for a moment and, like it was the last thing he wanted to do, Yeonjun finally removes his hand from Beomgyu’s tailbone to fish out a keycard. “You’re very…”
The door swings open. Yeonjun walks through first, turning in the entryway to flash him a one-sided grin. “Very?”
Beomgyu looks down at his feet as he follows him through. He doesn’t answer, instead choosing to kneel down and pry off his boots. Yeonjun has a shoe rack pushed against the wall, lined with clean and tidy designer shoes except for one pair at the very top; a pair of used vans, the white so dirty that it could be the same colour as the rest of the shoe.
He places his boots neatly in front of it and then stands. This time he forces himself to look Yeonjun in the face, and smiles. “Thanks for having me over, hyung.”
This stops Yeonjun in his tracks for a split second. Then his grin widens and he slings an arm over Beomgyu’s shoulders, pulling him further in. “Don’t thank me, Gyu-yah, really— I like having you over already.”
The heat in his cheeks sparks up again. It goes all the way to the tips of his ears, now burning hot as he drags his feet behind Yeonjun until they reach the living room. He doesn’t say anything until they’re seated and he decides that he really, really needs a drink now.
“Do you have beer?”
He finds out that Yeonjun’s laugh is—tragically—just as pretty as his face. He nods and heads to the kitchen area. Yeonjun’s apartment is nice, he notes. A nice seating area. A modern kitchen. A hallway leads off in one direction to what Beomgyu assumes is a bedroom.
Before he can let the thought progress, the older man is back and falling back beside him. He offers a cold bottle of Hite that he eagerly takes. The cap is already gone, so he takes a long gulp.
He’s glad to let the terrible taste of beer wash down his throat. When he swallows and straightens back up, turning to Yeonjun as he wipes the residue off his lips, he finds his eyes already locked on him.
“You,” he starts, already a little warm, “are really intense.”
Yeonjun cocks an eyebrow like he doesn’t follow. “Intense?”
Beomgyu nods and takes another good luck sip. He feels half a beer better than he did two minutes ago, and that’s enough for him to finally speak.
“Yeah,” he mumbles, keeping his eyes on Yeonjun’s this time. It’s easier to look at him now; the initial shock of seeing someone this hot actually existing has worn off, and he’s already beginning to feel a buzz. “It’s not a bad thing though. It’s the kind of thing that takes people off guard though. Like, you aren’t exactly… subtle, you know?”
Yeonjun’s smile is interested and remarkably cat-like. “Do you like subtle, Beomgyu?”
He shrugs. “I think it’s nice. Though I don’t really know if I have a preference.”
“You’re not really what I imagined either,” Yeonjun tells him, crossing one leg over the other.
“Really? In what way?”
“You’re pretty quiet. I asked Taehyun-ah what you were like. He said that you were so noisy sometimes he wanted to knock you out.”
Beomgyu blinks and tries to ignore the way his heart flutters at the admission. I asked Taehyun-ah what you were like. His grip tightens around the bottle.
“How did you know I know Kang Taehyun?”
“I’ve heard about you from him before. Beomgyu, a friend, a year older than me, red hair. I pieced things together when we matched.”
A giddy feeling wells up in Beomgyu’s chest.
“Do you like loud, then?” He asks, mimicking Yeonjun’s tone from earlier. He realises very quickly that he shouldn’t have though, because the older is immediately biting back a smile and choking on a laugh.
Beomgyu goes red again and takes a pity sip of his beer. He holds up his hand to stop Yeonjun from uttering a word.
“God, I shouldn’t have asked that. I didn’t mean it like that, don’t answer.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to answer?”
Beomgyu gives him a look. “Trust me, hyung. I’m positive. ”
And like that, things start falling into place.
Conversation becomes easier. One beer turns to two and then three. Yeonjun seems to be getting closer and closer as the evening progresses. Before Beomgyu even knows it, they’re sitting thigh to thigh. He has an arm over the couch, right behind Beomgyu’s head, and he can smell Yeonjun’s cologne again. Citrusy, woody, a little spicy.
“You’re in the Music Department, hyung?”
“Yeah,” Yeonjun answers with a small smile. “Dance major. Not as cool as it sounds though.”
Beomgyu’s head lolls to the side. Everything feels so warm and nice. He laughs softly, eyes drifting across Yeonjun’s features. They are such pretty features.
“It sounds cool to me,” he says, easily now. The nerves from earlier are gone. Now he just feels a soothing thrum in his veins. He lets himself rest his cheek on Yeonjun’s forearm. The smell of him is stronger there, where he must have sprayed his perfume on the wrist. “I want to see you dance.”
Yeonjun’s laugh is crude. “Maybe one day I’ll show you, Gyu-yah. What about you?”
“Psychology. Lame, huh? For a dancer like you, it must be really lame.”
Instead, Yeonjun shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s lame. I think it’s cool. You have a brain in there. For a pretty boy like you, that’s a shock.” His tone is teasing and seductive. Beomgyu laughs in response, light and airy.
He feels Yeonjun’s other hand settling on the exposed inch of skin above his knee and below the hem of his shorts. It’s so much hotter than the touch from earlier to feel it on his skin.
“Of course I do,” he answers back with a warm smile. He lets Yeonjun’s hand linger where it is. “I’m on a date with you, aren’t I?”
“We’re just having drinks, Gyu-yah,” Yeonjun reminds him with a handsome, tight smile. Beomgyu’s own expression falters a little, and he lifts his cheek up from Yeonjun’s arm.
“No, you’re right. Just drinks.”
Yeonjun seems to sense the change in mood, and gives his thigh a gentle squeeze. Beomgyu turns his attention to digging through his pocket for his phone, and he hears Yeonjun sigh.
“Did I upset you?”
“No,” Beomgyu answers unconvincingly, though he isn’t too sure. He’s probably not sober enough to know that right now. He manages to pull his phone out but the screen only lights up with an empty battery sign. “Hyung, what time is it?”
He looks off somewhere into the living room. “It looks like it’s just part ten thirty… why? Did I really upset you? Are you leaving now?”
He sounds oddly desperate.
“I’m not upset at you, Yeonjun-hyung. But… Soobin, my roommate, I promised. Said I’d be home by eleven. So I have to go.”
Yeonjun’s lips are pursed in disappointment. The haze clouding Beomgyu’s mind is dangerous, because when he looks at this expression—little pout, eyebrows turned down—he has half the mind to stay.
“I see. You weren’t lying about the roommate being annoying. Do you have to listen to him?”
Yeonjun turns his head to face him again then. They lock eyes and Beomgyu can’t bring himself to look away. Yeonjun’s cheeks are a dusty rose too from the alcohol they’d been drinking.
“I… it was a promise, hyung.”
Their eyes stay locked on each other. His voice sounds weak even to his own ears. He knows that this is getting dangerous. This isn’t what he had wanted, not really. Beomgyu didn’t want to be just a one night stand, no matter how gorgeous the man was.
But Yeonjun is mesmerising. His hand slides further up Beomgyu’s leg over the material of his shorts. It stops mid-thigh and he has to suppress a full body shiver.
“Stay?”
His heart is pounding in its chest. Yeonjun is so close that he’d be surprised if he couldn’t hear it. Beomgyu looks at his eyes, his rosy cheeks, his dark lips. He’s beautiful—the most beautiful man Beomgyu has ever seen—and he does not hold the power to deny him.
He leans in and places his hand right on top of Yeonjun’s. “Okay,” he whispers, eyelashes fluttering as he blinks. “I’ll stay.”
ฅ
Beomgyu wakes up the next day with no clothes, a splitting headache, and 17 missed calls from Soobin. Yeonjun had plugged his phone in for him last night, and when he plucks it out from under the pillow he’d slept on, his heart sinks.
Alongside the missed calls, there’s about 30 texts from his friends. Anyone else seeing this would have thought that he’d been kidnapped off the street.
bronze rank loser
choi beomgyu
if you don’t come home now
or text me???
i will get this guy’s address and come pick you up
baby hueka ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა
hyung said you didn’t come home?
please be safe beomie :(
mean taehyunie
are you still at yeonjun’s
He covers his face with a hand before he can read anymore and prepares for the absolute worst. Then, he opens up their groupchat.
Me
please
nobody kill me
bunny boy
give me one good reason
you promised 11
and i don’t care if you decided you wanted to stay
but you couldn’t have texted me?
Me
i know, i’m sorry :(
i lost track of time and forgot
bunny boy
i was worried gyu
next time tell me
where are you now?
Me
i will
still at his place
i don’t know where yeonjun is though
the voice of reason
i don’t think hyung has any weekend classes
so you spent the night?
like…….
Me
i
am currently not acknowledging that
thank you
bunny boy
oh no
the voice of reason
was he good?
bunny boy
oh no???
Beomgyu snorts and turns his phone off. He sets it down beside his head on the pillow and then sits up.
Yeonjun’s room is very… plain. He supposes it’s meant to be minimalist, but it shows nothing about his personality. His bedsheets are black, his desk is neat with just a Mac sitting on top, and his closet door is shut.
Beomgyu gets up slowly. He finds his shirt first. He pulls it on, carefully avoiding looking at his torso as he buttons it up. It’s wrinkled and he has to pat off a spot of dust. He finds his shorts nearby, in front of the one item of décor Yeonjun does have in his room—a mirror.
He stops to assess the damage, and almost has to cover his face in shock.
The upper half of both his thighs are littered in marks. He can’t distinguish between which of them are hickeys and which of them are finger-prints, but they cover him liberally in varying shades of maroon.
He puts his shorts on quickly.
Before he can exit the room, he stops to gather himself. His memories of the previous night are blurry. He doesn’t remember much of what happened after they got to Yeonjun’s room, but it isn’t difficult to piece together.
He can’t decide if he truly regrets it either. Some part of him—a large part—undeniably does. Beomgyu has never been particularly interested in things like this. At the root, he’s someone who doesn’t just want to have sex. He wants to be adored. He doesn’t want to be reduced down to a nice fuck, no matter how attractive his partner might be.
But another part of him feels pleased. Yeonjun is so attractive he’s out of this world. Beomgyu feels lucky to have been in the same bed with him, and he can’t deny that from what little he can recall, things had been good for him, too.
One thing for certain, though, he knows that he wants to see Yeonjun again. So he sucks up whatever courage he can muster and pushes Yeonjun’s bedroom door open.
Immediately he can hear sound coming from down the hall, so that’s where he goes. His bare feet are quiet against the hardwood floors. When he arrives in the living area he spots Yeonjun in the kitchen, back turned to him, on the phone.
Beomgyu’s stomach feels weird when he hears what he’s saying.
“I mean, you can always come see me tonight if you miss me,” Yeonjun says, in the same flirty tone he’d known from the night before. He can hear the smile in his voice. “We can have a drink at my place. You’re free, right?”
Suddenly any part of him that relished in what they’d done last night, and that had dared to wish for more, is shattered. He walks closer, hands a little shaky, and clears his throat once he’s hovering a few metres behind the older.
Yeonjun turns with his eyebrows raised, and offers him a cool smile. He holds up one finger.
“Okay, Yuri-ah. I’ll see you later then? Something’s just come up and I have to go now. Mhm. Mhm. See you.”
Then he lowers his phone, hanging up the call, and Beomgyu takes in his appearance.
He’s wearing a plain black t-shirt and grey joggers. Despite his casual clothes, though, he looks pristine. His hair is neat and tidy and his face doesn’t show an ounce of the alcohol they’d both consumed the night before. The only sign that they’d been together at all the previous night is on the side of his neck—a small red spot. The hickey Beomgyu had given him.
“You’re finally awake,” he remarks easily, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “Did you sleep well?”
“I slept okay,” he answers, on edge. “Did you sleep well, hyung? You seem eager this morning.”
The dig catches Yeonjun off guard. His brows furrow and he leans back against the counter. “Right. I slept okay too. Did you message your roommate back? Taehyun called me this morning. Said if you didn’t talk to any of them soon, someone was going to file a missing person’s complaint.”
“I did,” he answers, trying to bite back the anger swelling up in his chest at the laid-back response. “Who were you on the phone with?”
“That isn’t really any of your business, Beomgyu-yah. Do you have all of your things?”
Beomgyu finds this awfully absurd. He’d just had Yeonjun inside of him not even eight hours prior. And now he has to bite his tongue while Yeonjun sets up a date with someone else in front of him?
“I have all my stuff, yeah. Look, hyung— I feel like we need to talk. Like, properly.”
Yeonjun gives him an apologetic look. “I wish we could, but I’m in a rush today. Sorry, but I have somewhere to be soon. Your boots are by the door, right? I can see you out.”
His chest feels funny.
“Oh— right. Okay. Yeah. They’re by the door.”
Yeonjun flashes him a handsome, warm smile like he isn’t kicking him out after sleeping with him. Beomgyu can hardly return it with a smile that’s more like a grimace, and he follows Yeonjun to the front door numbly. The older man watches him as he pulls his boots back on.
“I hope you don’t think I’m doing this to be rude, Beoms. Really, I’d love for you to stay and for us to talk.”
Beomgyu personally doesn’t believe him, but he gives his head a small nod. He refuses to look him in the eye. He hears Yeonjun sigh, and then a hand is in his cherry red hair. He ruffles it once, twice, and then slides down to cup his chin.
Yeonjun lifts his head up so that he’s forced to look at him. He realises how much of a curse Yeonjun’s beauty is, because he can already feel some of the pent up anger melting away, like his looks are healing him.
“I’ll text you, okay? We can talk another time. I promise. Now get home to your roommate before he tracks us down here and kills us both.”
Beomgyu steps outside and the door swings shut behind him. He heads to the elevator on autopilot and once he’s inside and alone, he buries his face in his hands and screams.
What, he thinks, mind reeling. The fuck was that?