Archive of Our Own

The studio is soundless, aside from the humming of the radio. A request playing while Beomgyu looks through the questions sent in by all the sleepless souls like himself. There aren’t many. Beomgyu wasn’t expecting them, but it’s honest work. He hums along to the melody, searching. 

He finds the golden question. It’s a knife pressing into his skin, though its blunt edge doesn’t quite cut, it doesn’t hurt. It’s the surprise that causes the jolt. Healing, he supposes.  It’s been long overdue. Healing, he’s been trying to for a while now. 

He clears his throat, turning the mic back on. He speaks in a low voice, “First love lasts. I’ve never really believed in that phrase, if I’m being honest. First love is usually nothing too deep. 

“A silly crush on someone you continuously run into, who you start liking by default. But, looking back, I think it’s true to an extent. First love might not last, but the feelings do. The affection will always be there.

“My first love was my best friend. A romantic in his own way. Not in big gestures and not obviously, but once you understood him it would see how touching it was. With small things and the smallest words. I talk a lot. As you all might have noticed. Some people tend to zone out, but he always reassured me they’re listening. That he is listening. But let me play the record, very reminiscent of unconditional love for all you romantics out there.”

An old school record starts playing through the speakers. Beomgyu wonders if Taehyun is listening now, if he still has an ear out for him. He would call Beomgyu sappy, all while smiling from ear to ear. He would do it when they sat side by side, Beomgyu’s guitar in between them.  

They hadn’t ever been together. Not in labels, at least, but the affection had always been clear. If not to them, then to everyone around them. It was never a secret that where Beomgyu went, Taehyun would follow. That was the unwritten rule. But perhaps it’s precisely that what broke it. 

It was neither their faults. It was never anyone’s fault, really. Beomgyu doesn’t blame Taehyun. Himself, maybe. After all, if the branch keeping together breaks, the ocean will part the driftwood, leading them in directions far from each other. 

The song finishes playing. Beomgyu sighs, leaning forward. “For all you sleepless souls out there, this was Choi Beomgyu from the midnight station. Wishing you all a sound remainder of the night.” 

Beomgyu slinks into his seat, its joints creaking along with his movements. He reaches for the coffee mug. One of those tacky things with silly text on it. The on air sign flickers. 

The studio is silent, still, but the door creaks open. 

Beomgyu doesn’t have to look up. “Here to relive me?”

“You already know. Good work, Gyu,” Kai says. “Don’t hang around too long.” 

“Hm, let me hang around for two songs at least.” 

Beomgyu shuts his eyes. He bounces along with the motion of his chair. It’s almost as if it’s trying to rock him to sleep, his exhausted limbs and headache-ridden mind falling still.

He can already imagine Kai rolling his eyes. His papers crumple through the buzzing. “Any requests?” he asks. 

“Blow me away, Huening,” Beomgyu tells him. He cracks open an eye. “By the way, when do you wanna drop by to check out that guitar?” 

“How about Saturday?” 

“Finally! I’ve been waiting to clear it out.” 

Kai raises a brow. “Who says I’m taking it?” 

“You will be,” Beomgyu assures him. “It’s a mighty beauty.” 

“Then why are you getting rid of it?” 

It’s a valid question. Beomgyu could of course lie and tell him that he’s already got too many of them, or that he doesn’t have the space for it. Maybe it’s that he doesn’t have the means or time to indulge in the hobby that he has a degree for any longer. 

Instead Beomgyu shrugs. “I just… don’t really need it anymore. I don’t know why I got it.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll relieve you of your duty.” Kai sinks into his seat, adjusting his headphones. He looks over with a quick glance. “Also, make sure to stay dry. I heard there’s gonna be a downpour.” 

In retrospect, he should have heeded Kai’s words, but even if he did, there wasn’t really a point. He had no umbrella and his thin bomber jacket was nothing to protect him from the clouds dropping from the sky. 

Beomgyu ruffles his soaked hair, splattering it over his walls as his clothing forms a puddle around him. He doesn’t bother cleaning up as he shrugs off his jacket and leaves it right where it falls. 

Beomgyu kicks his shoes off, dropping onto his mattress face first. He hadn’t quite gotten around to building that Ikea bed frame just yet. It was still boxed up, leaned against his wall. Whenever he left he would lean his mattress up against it. 

He rolls around on the sheets. His sheets must be too wet to sleep on, but he will prove them all wrong. He’s so exhausted he could sleep through anything, and it’s one of those night then there is no need to keep his mattress pristine. He stares up at his ceiling, watching the figures his lamp spreads over it. It flickers every now and then, leaving a buzzing sound. 

He shuts his eyes, sighing. However, it’s one of those nights and sleep doesn’t greet him. His mind is running from him, a million thoughts clouding him. The rain clatters against his window and his walls get shaken by the wind. The song from the radio hums in his ears like a broken record. 

Now, he can stay here and rot, or he can distract himself until he eventually gets drafted off into a superficial slumber. While the first option sounds very tempting, Beomgyu knows it’s not good. He’s been moving past that part of himself. 

He pushes himself to his feet, navigating his way to his bathroom. He rinses himself off, brushes his teeth, even. It’s all haste and careless, but it’s a lot better than how he started out. When he steps away from the shower he realizes just how cold he had been. On the way he picks up a stray sweater, tossing it over his pajamas. 

As he falls back on his mattress he comes face to face with it. The guitar stands on its stands, as if waiting to be picked up. Beomgyu stares at it. It stares back at him. It hadn’t been the most expensive thing out there, but to call it cheap would be an understatement. He curls his knees up to his chest. 

It was an impulse buy. He hadn’t needed it. He already had one good guitar he would go to hell and back for, and financially he it was quite a blunder, but he couldn’t resist it. It had looked just like the one dangling from his keychain—now faded with time and affection. When nervous he would run his thumb over it. With each stroke a new layer of detailing would be wiped with it. 

He supposes it deserves a final run. One more time in the name of glory. He runs his fingers over the strings and frets. It’s out of tune, though it’s not as bad as he thought it would be. The moisture in the air is terrible, but he prefers it over the drought that gives him nosebleeds. 

He runs a few riffs his muscles remember, plucks some basic chords. He isn’t going anywhere with it, and if he gets too excited he might wake his neighbors much to their anger and his discomfort. 

He mimics the song from the radio the best he can. It tickles the back of his mind, a little distorted, but it’s there. He gets immersed in it, trying to find the right tones, sometimes getting distracted by some other tune his mind is more interested in. Improvising had never been his strongest suite, though, so he gives up on that quickly. 

He sighs. So much for glory. He cleans it up with just as much care as he had picked it up with. 

He flops back down, reaching for his phone. It’s somewhat of a nightly activity; doomscrolling until he feels absolutely terrible and mourns his lost time. However, tonight is not one of those nights. He frowns, pressing his phone to his ear. He pushes himself into an upright position.

His mother picks up after two rings. Her breathing is heavy, loaded in the silence, but as Beomgyu waits for her to start speaking, he realizes that she isn’t going to. 

“Hey, Mom. Why’d you call so late?” he asks, picking at his sheets. He should wash those cleaned sometime. “Sorry, I didn’t hear my phone.” 

His mother lets out a shaky exhale. Beomgyu’s frown deepens. His mother isn’t one to beat around the bush, especially not with him. He had been a fleeting child with fleeting attention; if she wanted to get something done she would have to tell him quickly. Yeonjun was much the same. Their poor mother. 

With the silence dragging on a looming feeling settles on Beomgyu’s shoulders. It’s far too late at night for casual conversation. If she had wanted to check up on him she would have done so during the day. She knows his schedule by now—steady for the past year. 

“What’s wrong?” Beomgyu asks. 

“Beomgyu-yah.” Her voice sounds so small, thin through the broken line. “It’s… Taehyun’s mother. She has passed.” 

Beomgyu’s world stops spinning. For a second, his heart stops with it. It drops to his stomach like lead, churning his stomach. His fingers feel cold. They tremble around his phone, so he holds it with both hands, pressing it tighter against his face. 

“I’ll be there,” he says. 

“At least rest for the night,” his mother says. Her voice is laced thick with a certain despair “The procedures haven’t yet been figured out. There is no need to come so soon.” 

But Beomgyu has already set his heart to it. It hasn’t happened in months, but when it does, he is immovable. It’s like a tree planting their roots into fertile soil, branching out into the horizon and intertwining with the other branches already settled there, all braided together like all of them pertained together to begin with. 

He’s already up and shoving his feet into beat down boots. “I’m going there right now. I’ll be with you.” 

He stuffs a bunch of clothes into the first backpack he finds, double checking his pockets for his belongings. The guitar keychain dangles from his pocket when he stuffs his keys away. 

“What you listening to?” 

Beomgyu nearly screeches. His head bounces against the pole holding up the bus schedule, the impact of his stumble making the metal hum. Beomgyu tears out the earphone to glare at Taehyun. 

“Warning next time?” Beomgyu rubs his head

Taehyun—starry-eyed and the epitome of innocence—stuffs his hands in his pockets. He offers a lopsided grin. “I’ve been trying to catch your attention. Breathing into your space, talking to you. Are you sure your name is Beomgyu? You haven’t been responding to it.” 

Beomgyu rolls his eyes. He tears an earbud out and sticks it into Taehyun’s ear. Taehyun beams. Together they stare at the ruffling leaves. There are rarely any passing cars. 

Beomgyu wants to be a musician. It’s all he ever talks about. He had decided it the moment he had touched his first guitar after a church mass and announced to all who would listen. He was going to be a musician who wrote his own music. He would be heard on the radio and would become famous. 

He’d been seven years old and ever since then he had been set on it. They’re seventeen now. It’s their final year of high school and the meetings with teachers about career paths have been running rampant. Despite all the advice, Beomgyu had been set on his dream. 

Taehyun nods. “Billy Joel, very nice.”

“We should go to Vienna together once,” Beomgyu says. “And then tour through the rest of Europe.” 

“Sure thing, Gyu-yah,” Taehyun agrees easily. He nudges Beomgyu in the side. “You talking to the teacher again?” 

“Yes! I don’t know why she wants to keep meeting me! Last time I even brought the whole vision board.”

Beomgyu groans. He moves so quickly the earbud falls, but Taehyun catches it. He stuffs it back safely where it belongs.

“She’ll understand at some point,” he says. “Keep fighting her.” 

Beomgyu lowers his head. His hand-me-down sneakers had seen better days. He rubs them into the grubble, feeling the way the rocks roll underneath his soles. Beside him Taehyun lets out a loud groan. 

Beomgyu bounces away from his lightly, raising a brow. “What’s got you worked up?” 

“Stop that,” Taehyun demands. “Stop that right now. I know that look. That look means you’re doubting yourself. You’re probably thinking, what if I can’t do it? What if I’m not good enough?” He snaps his finger. “Look at me, Gyu.” 

Beomgyu doesn’t listen. Instead, he decides to look back down at his feet, inspect the way the stones had scratched the tile underneath his weight, carve out all the patterns he had made with them. 

Taehyun groans again, much louder this time. Beomgyu looks at him with wide eyes, glances around the place to see if anyone had heard that. He’s sure they had, with the way Taehyun’s voice was echoing off the walls up to three blocks away. 

Taehyun shakes his head, grabbing Beomgyu’s cheeks. “I said to look at me.”

“Stop this is so embarrassing,” Beomgyu whines.  

“But it’s necessary!” Taehyun exclaims. He squishes down harder. “What are you, Choi Beomgyu?” 

“Good enough…” 

“What are you?!” 

“Good enough!” 

Taehyun nods, satisfied. He releases Beomgyu from his cage of forced self-confidence and affirmations. Taehyun knocks his shoulder into Beomgyu, grinning. “Exactly. Now let’s go. Where the hell did you leave your bike?” 

His earbud is left hanging as Taehyun skips off. His hair bounces with each leap, his arms swinging alone freely. He must be very proud of himself with the way he is laughing, like there is no tomorrow. His giggles reach over the wind, dragged along through the trees as he urges Beomgyu to hurry the hell up already. 

Beomgyu watches him with a gentle smile. “Coming, coming! Patience, please!” 

The remainder of their school days is dedicated to scramming, absorbing as much knowledge before they can before they get left to their own devices. His math equations are dancing around on the page. He doesn’t hate doing it, but after sitting in one spot for so long his mind can’t stop from wandering.

His mother would tell him he’s fleeting. He always wants more than he handle and he gets tired of it all too soon. Beomgyu thinks he’s pretty one track minded. At least in one aspect of his life.  

Something taps Beomgyu’s arm as he scribbles. It startles Beomgyu out of his concentration—or what is left of it, but he quickly knows who is the culprit. He glances to his side, meeting Taehyun’s grin. 

Taehyun’s always been a lot more effortless when it came to studying. He knows a lot about a lot of things, solves math problems just for there hell of it and wanted to become a rocket scientist, and then any type of scientist, and then just something that earned a lot of money. 

“What?” Beomgyu whispers.

“After school, buy me strawberry milk,” Taehyun tells him. 

“Why?” 

“Because.” 

Beomgyu rolls his eyes. “Work on those argumentative skills if you wanna pass your orals.” 

“So are you gonna do it?” Taehyun asks. 

Taehyun must know Beomgyu’s weaknesses. He doesn’t quite master the puppy eyes, but he has this one expression, where his lips would slightly pout and he would just stare at Beomgyu with big, empty eyes. 

Beomgyu sighs. He holds up two fingers, counting. “Strawberry milk with those panda cookies, right?” 

Taehyun crosses his hands over his chest. “You have the keys to my heart, Choi Beomgyu.” 

“Silence!” 

Beomgyu flinches, leaning down. From beside him he can hear Taehyun’s muffled giggles slipping through the cracks of his fingers. When the teacher finally looks away he glares over his arm. Taehyun only beams at him, as if he hadn’t caused all of this. Beomgyu can’t stay angry for long, thought—if this even was to be considered anger—and especially not at Taehyun. 

Beomgyu keeps to their agreement, though. They head off after school, bikes in their hands as they make their way to their bench. It’s not quite theirs, but they’ve been there so often it feels like it is. 

Their bicycles lay forgotten in the grass as they sink down, staring over the fields. The wheat looks golden in the low light and the wind moves them like waves. It looks soft. Beomgyu would want it to carry him away, run his fingers through it and feel it break beneath his fingers. Taehyun had told him it hurt like shit. He had tried it already and ended scratching up his arm like he’d had a bad whipping. 

Beomgyu holds out his drink. Taehyun clinks their cartons together like a cheers. Their cookies lay in between them like common ground. 

Leaning back, Beomgyu lets the sunlight fall on his face. Through his closed eyes the world colors red. The wind rustles, and in the far distance the main road to the city roars. They’re probably all leaving. They came out to this outskirt to see what the quiet had to offer. 

“You going to the church event?” Beomgyu asks. 

“Of course I am. No way Mom’s letting me get out of this one.” Taehyun sips his strawberry milk, swinging his legs over the edge of his bed. “I already got out of that thing during easter, I don’t think I can pull it again. Especially with my sister being out of town now.” 

“Oh, poor you. Having to sit in the benches and eat your mom’s amazing cookies.” 

“Don’t you just hear how agonizing that sounds?”

Beomgyu shakes his head. He sits up straight, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry to bring you this news, but the council has decided you need to leave.” 

“Why?” Taehyun whines. “I wanna stay here.” 

“Fine," Beomgyu says, exaggerated with exasperation. “But just until the sun goes down.” 

It takes four hours to get from the city back home. He has to transfer busses twice. By the time he sees the skyline of his small town surface the sun is starting to break out from beneath it. 

He doesn’t bother calling them up. He doesn’t have any luggage and his house is close enough. He drags his feet through the dead roads of the night. The wind draws in between the houses, sweeping some of the stray petals from fruit trees over the streets. 

The blocks are the exact same as when he left. He doesn’t need to think. He lets his feet move on their own, lets them lead him home. He has been doing too much thinking. It’s nice to take a break of it all, finally. 

His childhood home isn’t as large as it had felt all those years ago, but compared to his little apartment tucked away in the corner of the city it’s a palace. His hands curl around his keys, running his thumb over the faded guitar. If he keeps going, maybe he will finally carve out the middle. With a deep breath he unlocks the door. 

Immediately he is engulfed into arms. The big lights are turned off. Instead the smaller tabletop lamps have been turned on, leaving the room a lot more dim. Beomgyu wraps his arm around his mother, hooking his chin over her shoulder. 

“Mom, Dad, hey…” he greets. 

His father nods at him with a muted smile. They’ve changed the couch, he notices. He supposes it’s only fair. With both him and Yeonjun out of the house there would be much less casualties, though he has to argue that the burn had totally been his mother’s fault. Beomgyu hadn’t touched a blowdryer for the entirety of his teenage hood, too afraid to damage his hair after a classmates mother had scorched hers off. 

“Beomgyu-yah.” His mother’s voice is rough, but it’s filled with the same warmth. “Did you have good travels? Did you sleep on the bus?” 

“Yeah, it’s been okay. I managed to catch a wink.” A lie. He parts from the embrace. “Has Yeonjun come?” 

“He’ll be arriving in two days. It was hard to book a flight so soon, but he’s stepping on the plane in a few hours.” His mother inhales, her hands shooting around without much purpose. “Your room’s ready. It hasn’t been touched since you left, but I did change the sheets and—“ 

Beomgyu lays a hand on her shoulder. “Mom, why don’t you go rest too.” 

“No, no, I’ve still got… some things to do down here.” 

She motions at the house. It’s not spotless, but it’s as casually cluttered as it always had been. His mother had never been one for tidying up, always arguing it would at least look like people lived here. Beomgyu has to agree with her. His apartment is barren with his few belongings. 

“I’ll stay with you,” he tells her.

His mother frowns. “Baby, you should sleep. When’s that last time you’ve done that?” 

“I won’t be able to. I’ll stay with you.” 

“Oh, sweetheart… You really don’t have to.” 

“Should I make some tea?” Beomgyu asks. He pats her on the back, slipping past her to the kitchen. “Go sit down, okay? I’ll take care of it.” 

As the kettle boils he hears his father’s voice come through in that deep tenor of his. He can’t make out their conversation, and though the curious part of himself is desperate to listen in, he holds back. He prepares three cups—even if his father doesn’t enjoy the ‘leaf water’ as much as the rest of them do. He needs it too, he supposes. 

When he returns to the living room he knows what the commotion was about. His mother has her face buried in her hand, silent tears streaming down her face. Taehyun’s mother had been one of her closest—if not the closest friend she’d had. His father has his hand on her hand, rubbing circles on it. He looks up at Beomgyu, nodding with appreciation. 

Beomgyu sets down the cups and sits across of them. If it goes cold, then so be it. Sadness will run its course, but the strength lies in numbers. They sit together until the sun filters through their blinds, bringing in the golden daylight. 

His family gathers on the Kangs’ porch a few hours later. It’s 11AM sharp, just as stated. His mother’s eyes are puffy from the tears and thick with exhaustion. Beomgyu stands a little closer to her. 

They had managed a few hours of sleep when the high tensions had eventually settled. Beomgyu had laid awake in his childhood bed, his hands folded over his stomach and over the yellow checkered sheets he had insisted on getting. His posters were still up, as well as the miniature figures he had been absolutely crazy about, so records as well. 

He’d forgotten a place could feel alive, too. But once upon a time, long ago, it had been so. 

The many locks get undone, accompanied by shuffling. The door opens up with a heavy sigh. 

Beomgyu’s breath catches in his throat. 

He is as when he left, though there is a maturity in his features. The baby fat had fallen from his cheeks, leaving his cheekbones higher on his face. His stature is broader, no longer that scrawny kid who would chase ahead of him on dirt road bike paths. His eyes are the same, though. Tired, but they still glow with the universe. 

He’s dressed in black head to toe. Though the clothes are formal, they are crumpled up in all places, looking a little unkempt. He pats down his hair where it sticks upright. 

“Taehyun-ah…” Beomgyu breathes out. 

“Beomgyu,” Taehyun greets, breathless. “Wow, it’s so good to see you again. Rather under different circumstances, but…” 

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” 

“She was ready for it. The rest of us maybe not so much. She was in a lot of pain. It was time to let her go.” Taehyun lets out a shaky breath, fingers clutching the doorpost. His eyes fall on Beomgyu’s parents, standing right behind them. He gasps. “I’m so sorry, please come in.” 

“No need to fret,” Beomgyu’s mother says. “You two can catch up.” 

She slides past him, Beomgyu’s father in tow. The two of them are left to stand across each other. Taehyun nods. “Follow me?” 

Beomgyu lets him lead him. The walls are lines with photographs. At the end of the hall there is a family portrait, a bit bigger than Taehyun’s mother had anticipated, so it hung a bit awkwardly from the wall. Taehyun should be about seven in the picture, beaming from ear to ear on his father’s lap. His teeth had still been crooked, his braces having not worked their magic yet, but he smiles like there’s no end to it. 

“Long travel here, right? Can I pour you a drink?” Taehyun says, he leads Beomgyu to the kitchen. “Sorry about the disorganization. We should’ve anticipated you all would be on time.”

“No worries. And there’s no need.” Beomgyu lays his hand on Taehyun’s shoulder. “Is there anything I can do?” 

“No need. Mom had it all figured out.” Taehyun lets out a soft chuckle. “Always has.”

Beomgyu finds himself smiling back. It’s as if nothing changed. Not between the two of them. There had been distance, ant here had been silence, but now that they’re together again there is no discomfort. It’s like they’ve never been parted. Taehyun is familiar underneath his touch, slightly taller but still the same. 

“She did always know exactly what she wanted,” Beomgyu says. 

“Yeah…” Taehyun lets out a sigh. “Oh, right, you should probably greet my dad.” 

“You’re right, I should.” 

The doorbell rings, shallow through the walls. Taehyun nods. “He should be over in the living room.” 

He brushes past Beomgyu to let the new people in. Beomgyu trails after him with his gaze. He doesn’t know what he had expected. The occasion doesn’t call for undivided attention. Taehyun has people to attend to, things to get done. It’s selfish, to want that. He shouldn’t. 

He makes his way over to Taehyun’s father smoothly. The man is standing alone by a table, words going in one ear, out the other. There is a haze hanging over the house, breaking them off from outside and reality. 

Beomgyu is careful to approach him, though he doesn’t quiet down his steps. He wouldn’t want to shock the man. “Sir?”

Taehyun’s father snaps his head up. His face melts into a gentle smile. “Beomgyu, my boy. It’s so good to see you. Thank you so much for coming.” 

“Of course I came. I’m so sorry for your loss.” 

Taehyun’s father gives him a small nod of appreciation, however it’s clear he doesn’t want to speak of it any longer. “How’s it going for you?” he asks. 

His hand hovers atop Beomgyu’s back as he guides him ahead through the house. It hasn’t changed much from the last time he’d been there. They had kept all their vintage furniture, and the walls still had the same hole from when they’d accidentally walked a wooden sword into it. 

The three of them—because at that age Yeonjun hadn’t yet decided that he was too old to be playing with kids—had been forced to kneel as Taehyun’s father fretted over the wall, turning more exasperated and amused the longer he looked at it. Turns out he decided to just leave it together with the memories. 

“I heard you’re doing a radio show," Taehyun’s father says. “We listened to it. You’ve become a very insightful young man.” 

Beomgyu waves his hand. “Ah, thank you so much, but I assure you most of the things asked I don’t know much about. It’s mostly improvisation and thoughts I’ve gathered over time.”

“It’s still impressive, Beomgyu. No need to downplay it.” Taehyun’s father sighs, looking down at the ground. “Actually, Beomgyu, I have a request for you. Could you please get Taehyun out of this place. Only for a moment, but I think… I think he needs it. He has been the one to handle most of the grievances.” 

“It’s alright, sir,” Beomgyu says. “You don’t need to explain. I’ll do it.” 

“You’re an angel.” 

“I’m just looking out to help.” 

He gives Taehyun’s father a squeeze on the shoulder. Before he heads along he notifies his parents to stay around the man. They understand immediately. As they leave, Beomgyu scans the crowd, searching for the matted brown Taehyun wears. When they’d freshly graduated he had immediately stripped his hair from all colors, and then added some. With the dress code for his job, however, he had to kiss the bright colors goodbye—bless his scalp. 

He spots Taehyun in a far off corner, right by the threshold splitting dining table from kitchen. He’s keeping his hands busy, though there is not much he’s getting done. He frets over candle holders and sorts papers—old letters that had probably been lying around for eons now. 

Beomgyu wades through the bodies. There aren’t many of them, but they move like the waves. They push and pull, each of them a blank slate to Beomgyu. He has seen some of them, but can no longer tie names to them. He holds out his hand, making his way over, muttering some apologies as he goes. 

“Taehyun-ah.” 

Their fingers touch.

Taehyun jolts out of his trance, gripping the front of his shirt. He deflates. “Oh. It’s you. Is there anything I can help you with?”  

“Wanna get some fresh air?” Taehyun opens his mouth, glancing over the heads, but Beomgyu shakes his head. “It’s okay, Taehyun, your father can handle it.” 

Taehyun looks around the room, blinking. He swallows thickly. There are no words spoke. His eyes are so glassy Beomgyu wonders if he is even thinking at all, or if his mind has shut down and his body is working on its own, strumming forward merely to keep going. 

Without a word Beomgyu takes Taehyun’s hand in his own, guiding him along through the crowd. Their faces pass like a blur, all of them wading through the murky waters as the two of them float to the surface. As the daylight breaks through the door they gasp for air. 

The door is shut behind them, shutting away the chatters and murmurs. Up at the surface the waves seem calmer. Taehyun sighs, leaning against it. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “It was getting so stuffy in there.” 

“Of course,” Beomgyu says. “You looked like you needed it.”

Taehyun glances over his shoulder. There is a contemplative frown between his eyes, the one Beomgyu used to smoothen out with a poke to drag Taehyun out of his mind. Sometimes Taehyun would forget to share what was going on in his mind, that people wouldn’t know just what was going on in there unless he would tell. 

“Taehyun?” Beomgyu calls his attention. “What are you thinking?” 

Taehyun hums, slowly turning to face him. “Want to take a stroll?” 

“Are you sure?” Beomgyu asks. 

“Yeah. I need to get away from a bit.” Taehyun punches Beomgyu’s shoulder. It’s only light, but Beomgyu still shakes along with it. “Besides, I don’t think you remember just how this place looks like.” 

“I know the important places, though,” Beomgyu argues. 

“Hm, sure you do.” 

“Hey now! How could I forget one of the best views ever. Plus, as long as I can find my way home I think I’m safe.” 

Taehyun chuckles. He bumps his shoulder into Beomgyu, forcing him forward. Beomgyu jolts along, throwing a soft glare over his shoulder. Taehyun, always the epitome of innocence, smiles at him. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, doesn’t spread as wide as it used to, in the way that it shows all his teeth, but it’s not fake. That’s all Beomgyu can hope for.

“What’s our first stop, Mr Kang?” Beomgyu asks. 

“Ey now,” Taehyun says. “Don’t call me that. That’s what the kids call me.” 

“How’s that teaching thing going for you?”

When rocket science was far off, and then regular science didn’t prove to have much success in their tiny place, the thing that would make a bit more money and wouldn’t take him too far turned out to be teaching. Their town had precisely two elementary schools, and one high school. Taehyun had gotten his degree and immediately started as a third grade teacher. 

“It’s not rocket science, but it’s a noble job,” Taehyun shrugs, but there’s a glimmer in his eyes. “I’m sick every two weeks and covered in either paint or some other weird substances, running on caffeine, but it’s good. The kids are sweet.” 

“It’s so weird to imagine you as a teacher,” Beomgyu admits. 

“Best believe it. I’m pretty darn good.” Taehyun puffs out his chest, both hands on his hips. 

“I have no doubt. You were always good at whatever you set your mind to.” 

“You too.” 

The words bounce off Beomgyu like a protective shield. Taehyun is looking down at his feet, a rosy blush spreading over his cheeks and his nose. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, hunching over. It’s far from the superhero pose he had taken earlier. 

Beomgyu elbows Taehyun’s side. “What is this? Kang Taehyun can’t take a compliment?” 

“I’m only stating the truth,’ Taehyun says, shrugging. 

“Hm.” Beomgyu nods, but there is a smile dancing on his lips. 

Taehyun rolls his eyes, but laughs. It’s nothing full-bodied, world-shaking, but it’s something. It’s the first one he has heard in a while. Beomgyu will settle for scraps until he can build them into something. 

They stroll side by side in silence. The roads are still the same, lead to the same places. Some of the buildings are worse for wear, others have changed into new things at old places. There are new deals, new goods, new posters stuck over old ones, layering atop each other like rained down paper machete. 

“Remember when you wanted to go to Vienna?” Taehyun suddenly asks him. 

“All because Billy Joel sang about it," Beomgyu remembers. “I don’t know the slightest about Vienna.” 

“It’s pretty.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m at the age where people gift you calendars for holidays. Since I was talking about it so much, my dad—“ Taehyun sucks in a sharp breath, shutting his eyes for a second. Beomgyu lets him take all the time he needs, until he can speak without his voice breaking. “He got it for me. Some pretty scenery from the city. Bet it’s a bit glamorized, though.” 

“Yeah. I suppose.” Beomgyu looks over. “Where would you wanna go?” 

Taehyun goes silent once again. That frown is back between his eyebrows. 

“I don’t know yet. Anywhere, really. I want to see the world now.” He sighs, staring off ahead of them.  “Remember when we would go through your mom’s old picture albums?” 

“Hm, yeah, of course I do,” Beomgyu says. “You were so fascinated by it. It sparked your photography phase in life.” 

“And it’s proven useful! They don’t need to hire a photographer for picture days! Instead they just make Mr Kang do it. It’s cute, though.” 

“Will you stay here?” 

“For the time being. I’m gonna be with my dad, stay by his side. I think we both need each other now, but then, after that, who knows?” 

Beomgyu is used to a lot more eyes on him. When he played at church the whole town would be looking at him, but these people are calculating. Their eyes are scrutinizing, picking him apart before he could even start anything. He rocks back and forth on his feet, clutching the neck of his guitar with one hand. He picks at the frets—against better judgement—waiting for them to stop looking at him and ask him to do something.  

The room isn’t big and it has mirrors lining the walls. There are weird plush things sticking to them too, probably sound dampers. There’s a piano stuffed in the corner and a long table across of him. Three people. A teacher, the director and some other person Beomgyu should have read into but unfortunately hadn’t.

“Name?” the lady in the middle finally speaks up. 

Beomgyu bows his head. “Choi Beomgyu.” 

“Hm, I see. We’ve heard your work. Show us what you have prepared.” 

Beomgyu fumbles to get into position. His fingers are sweating. He had been so confident only hours ago, but now that he is put in the situation it seems that his flight instincts are fighting to come up. He feels nauseous, bile rising up to his throat. He clears his throat, shutting his eyes. He takes a deep breath. 

He knows what to do. He had practiced. The pieces they asked of him to prepare, one from himself. He can do it. He doesn’t breeze through it, but he gets to the end nearly unscathed. There are mistakes he knows he will be dwelling on until the end of time, but his heart is beating in his throat and he can’t think. His head feels stuffy. 

He looks ahead of him, trying to read their gazes. They’re smiling. He doesn’t know if that’s  a good thing. 

The teacher taps his pen, nodding. “Alright, alright. Very good. You’re nervous, aren’t you?” 

“A little,” Beomgyu admits. 

“Don’t panic too much, but I want to ask you something. Could you improvise?” 

“Sorry?” 

“Yeah.” The teacher gets up, sliding behind the piano. “I’ll give you three notes, work with them.” 

So much for not panicking. Beomgyu’s fingers are trembling by now, overthinking each possibility and each outcome. He calculates which notes he is most likely to give, what he would expect to hear. It should be good. He should be good. 

He fumbles. He fumbles all through it, and what he comes up with is nothing but basic level things, tunes that have been imagined before and will continue to come around. He doesn’t dare look at the faces as they thank him for coming, rushing out as quickly as he can. 

Taehyun is standing outside, his hands in his pockets. He shoots up at the sound of the door. “Hey, how’d it go?” 

Beomgyu buries his face in his hands, letting out a long, heavy sigh. “Terrible. I think it went terrible. I’m gonna have to look into the local college and get a degree in, I don’t know, lifestyle management!” 

He crouches down, wailing. He douses in the theatrics, hoping it will hide the real tears rimming his lashes, threatening to spill over at any moment. He lets out another loud cry of frustration. Taehyun shushes him frantically, eyes darting to their surroundings. He crouches down to Beomgyu’s eye level, arms wrapped around his legs. 

“Hey, no time for disaster thinking yet,” he says. “While you were in there I’ve found all these places I want to see. Let’s get going.” He grabs Beomgyu’s hand with a timid smile. “There’s no need to sulk or feel bad, okay? Focus on the better things they said.” 

He pulls the both of them up to their feet. Beomgyu is still pouting, but his chest feels a little warmer, even if it’s still clenching. Perhaps he should have planned this better. He should have thought things through, made a back up plan. He’s just too goddamn impulsive and too goddamn starry-eyed, always thinking the best of things. He can’t keep wishing upon stars forever. It’s time to grow up. 

Beomgyu sniffles, wiping his nose. “They just said that to make me feel better.” 

“So what did they say then?” Taehyun asks. 

“They liked my tracks, and the thing I prepared. But they made me improvise and— I don’t know. It was so nerve wracking. I can’t believe I never anticipated that!”

They stroll along the main street, cars zooming past them. The city is crowded, the sidewalks filled to the brim. There are so many impressions Beomgyu can’t help but stick closer to Taehyun, glueing himself to his side. Taehyun lets him, wrapping his arm around Beomgyu’s. 

“You can’t plan out everything,” Taehyun says. “I’m sure you still did an amazing job. It’s you after all.” 

Beomgyu leans his head on Taehyun’s. “Ah, Taehyun. Show me what we should see.” 

Taehyun pulls him along with a grin. Beomgyu chuckles. Taehyun drags him through the main street and over the city center. His camera flutters with each scene he finds appealing, giggling down. 

He is shown so much he’s certain he won’t remember all of it. The details, over the years, will get fuzzy and the scenery will change as he tries to grasp the exact picture of it all, but the excitement buzzing in his veins and his clammy palms when Taehyun smiles at him he will always remember. 

The bus ride back is long and tedious. The sun has settled and there is no longer a scenery to see outside. They’re both exhausted with all the walking they had done, all the jumping around, hopping from place to place. Beomgyu’s guitar is resting in the upper racks for luggage as Taehyun curls up against him, his head rested on his chest. 

Beomgyu looks down at him, his eyes shining. He runs his fingers through his hair, brushing it out of his eyes. Taehyun’s nose scrunches up, but he remains unmoved, listening closely to the steady beating of Beomgyu’s heart. 

Wherever Beomgyu goes, Taehyun will be. He presses a soft kiss to Taehyun’s forehead, murmuring a soft thanks. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” 

Beomgyu lays a finger to his lips. “Shh. No cursing in front of the holy mother.” 

He is kneeled in front of the shrine in their chapel, eyes shut. His mother must have told Taehyun where he was hanging out if he found him this soon. After all, the chapel isn’t their usual meeting spot. 

Taehyun shuffles beside him, his shiny black shoes—double platformed!— coming right into view. “You never pray. What’s going on? Did you do something bad?” 

“Why is that the first assumption?! No!” Beomgyu exclaims. “But I figured, my fate is now in the hand of all that is holy. My next step is offering my soul up to whatever entity.” 

“Blasphemy.” 

“Shh. I’m praying.” 

Taehyun chuckles. He kicks Beomgyu aside. Beomgyu yelps, flailing to catch himself. He almost does. He was so close, but still his hand slipped and he falls right on his ass. He shoots Taehyun a glare. 

“Rude? In front of her holy presence.” 

“Scoot over, asshole.” 

Beomgyu rolls his eyes, but obliges. Taehyun kneels down by his side, folding his hands together and shutting his eyes. 

Beomgyu raises his brow. “Now what is this?” 

“Holy father, son, mother, please help Beomgyu realize he’s doing just fine,” Taehyun says, loud and clear. His voice echoes off the walls. Beomgyu is sure Jesus is judging him. 

“You’re praying for the wrong things!” Beomgyu exclaims. 

“Praying is an entirely personal experience, where everyone states their own wishes and desires,” Taehyun shushes him. “Please help Beomgyu realize he’s enough, and tell him to come out to the fields with me.” 

Taehyun punches in the arm, before he tugs at it. He rolls over, taking Beomgyu in some type of wrestlers grip. He lets out a yelp, patting the floor. 

“Mercy! Mercy, please!” 

“Are you coming?!” 

“Fine, fine, I’m getting up.” 

Taehyun sends him a toothy grin. His smile had always been larger than his face could handle. He rolls away from Beomgyu and up to his feet. He zooms past all the ornaments and benches. 

Beomgyu rushes after him, yelling after him. In retrospect, everyone around them really had been too forgiving, especially with all the shenanigans they had been up to. The fields bleed into shades of gold. The wind rushes through his ears, sounding faintly of the sea. They’re breathless when they arrive at their bench.

Beomgyu lies in Taehyun’s lap, chest heaving. Taehyun hums, playing with Beomgyu’s hair, twisting it into an attempt at braids. Beomgyu basks in the warmth of the coming from the sun, from the fingers running over his scalp, from Taehyun’s body in waves of life. 

“Your hair’s getting long,” Taehyun comments. 

“I’m growing it out.” 

Taehyun hums. It’s these simple moments that he will miss. Just him and Taehyun and the whole wide world at their feet. There are no mountains in their area, so they can see where the horizon ends, where land and sky meet. 

“I’m glad I have you,” Beomgyu murmurs. “You’re the best person the universe could have given me.” 

“I’m glad we have each other,” Taehyun says. “I think that as long as I have you, I can be happy.” 

Beomgyu smiles up at him. 

“Hey, Beomgyu.”

“Hm?” 

“You don’t have to thank me.” 

“What?”

“I heard you. On the bus?” Taehyun scratches behind his ear. “You don’t have to thank me for these things. It’s because I love you that I do them. I’m not doing you a favor, so you don’t need to thank me.” 

Golden light runs through Taehyun’s still black hair, bringing out the brown undertones in it. It engulfs him like the halo of angels. It’s funny how the light can play tricks on your eyes, or perhaps it’s the mind, making memories out to be more lovely than they really were, but all the feelings are real. 

Beomgyu leans in for a kiss. It’s clumsy and it strains his neck and Taehyun has to curl down awkwardly to even meet his lips. There were teeth and no tongue, a quick peck with the sound of smacking lips. 

Afterwards they had stared at each other for a second in utter silence. Then came the flurry of giggles. Never-ending, serotonin laced giggles that carried back home with the wind. Beomgyu realizes then that is when Taehyun is the most beautiful, his eyes wrinkled around their edges like crows’ feet and all his teeth, laughing like he doesn’t have a care in the world.  

Beomgyu sits in one of the benches, hands folded in his lap. He hasn’t quite gotten to praying these days. As he had grown up, so had his faith faded. If there is a god, he hopes Taehyun’s mother got to meet him. He hopes he is as benevolent and loving as he is depicted to be. 

His relationship with religion had dwindled the moment he entered his second year of high school. If there was a god, he wondered why they chose who to show mercy upon and who not to, why there were terrible people with good lives and good people in the slums. If there was a good, almighty god, then why was there tragedy? 

And he wouldn’t touch upon their narrative of goodness. Most people who believed weren’t good people to be good people, they were only good to be blessed in death. People of faith aren’t all good, while people who aren’t all bad. People will be people, whether they let a man in the sky dictate their every move or not. 

As he went up to the church with his mother to pray to a statue of woman who may or may not have existed, he wonders what the point is of honoring symbols. 

But here he is today, right in front of the holy mother, asking for grace. Even if he doesn’t believe any longer, Taehyun’s mother was a woman of faith. He should at least honor her. He twiddles his thumbs together, keeping his head down. His mind swims. 

“What are you praying for?” 

Taehyun’s voice is something Beomgyu could pluck from a crowd. It has a lilt to it as he speaks, almost as if he’s always contemplating, with a slightly nasal edge to it. 

“Oh, Taehyun.” Beomgyu looks over his shoulder, meeting his eyes. He shrugs. “Nothing much. I’m just… here. What about you?”

“Had to make some arrangements,” Taehyun explains briefly. He twirls his hand, motioning at the entire of mostly everything. Beomgyu gets it, though. “Got place for another soul?” 

“If it’s yours, always.” 

Beomgyu scoots over a bit, even if he doesn’t really have to. There is plenty space for the two of them without having to be too snug. Taehyun slips into the bench, further, further, until they are side by side, arms and thighs pressed together. He follows Beomgyu’s line of sight. 

“Do you believe?” he asks. 

“No. But no harm done trying, right?” Beomgyu returns the question. “You?” 

“Nope. Me and God aren’t really affiliated in any way. It was a bit of a sore spot between me and Mom, actually, but we managed to put it aside.” 

“Anything you wanna pray for. Since you’re here anyway.” 

“Hm, no. I don’t think so.” 

“Should we—“

Beomgyu is cut off by his phone buzzing in his pocket. He looks at Taehyun apologetically before pressing it to his ear. 

“Hey, Kai, what’s up?” 

Kai’s end of the call crackles. The sound of tapping keys is loud in the foreground. “Hey, I realized we haven’t set the time for tomorrow.” 

Right. Tomorrow. It had completely slipped Beomgyu’s mind, not that he had noted it down anywhere either. Beomgyu and planners have an on and off relationships. Sometimes he thinks he should go back to them, only to realize he neglects them entirely. He can’t think that far into the future. He doesn’t want to. It gets him anxious and shaky, makes him overthink.  

“I’m so sorry. I’m… not in town,” Beomgyu tells him. He glances over at Taehyun. “There was an urgent family matter. I’ve been back at my parents’ place for the time being.” His eyes widen. “Shit, I haven’t even—“ 

“No worries. I’ll give the head’s up while you go draft that email for the boss.”  

Beomgyu knows he as a person has patterns, but he didn’t think of himself as predictable. Turns out his disorganized mind precedes him and his scatterbrained, clutter boxed self has spread himself over his workplace and the people who he runs into there. 

“You’re a lifesaver, Kai," Beomgyu says. He hopes his honesty is heard through the broken line. “Thank you so much.” 

“Of course. Don’t you even fret about it.” There is some shuffling and some more angry clicks before Kai’s voice sounds again. “Okay, Beomgyu, I’m gonna get going again. I’m getting my ass kicked by twelve-year-olds, what the fuck.” 

Beomgyu chuckles as Kai curses one final time, disconnecting the call. Taehyun looks at him with round eyes. It’s obvious he is trying to fight his curiosity with the way his eyes fleet down at Beomgyu’s screen every now and then, stiff as a meerkat. 

Beomgyu tucks his phone away, grinning. “Really sorry about that, but it’s all settled now.” 

“Who was that?” Taehyun finally asks. His gaze is owlish. 

“Work,” Beomgyu says. “I forgot to arrange some stuff, but it’s okay. Should we go?” 

“Oh, sure!” Taehyun almost jumps up, but he keeps his feet grounded the best he can. “I’m going to see enough church for the next coming days.” 

“Better to get out of here fast, then,” Beomgyu says. 

The chapel is a little rundown, some windows having lost their shine and some wind damage with the storm of three years ago. Beomgyu had followed its course over the news and called his mom about it, only to hear that unfortunately the little playhouse—long abandoned but a staple to their garden—had fallen, or rather flown. It was in pieces all over the yard. 

Sometimes it’s the things that seem timeless that he loses in the most unexpected ways. It’s because he had gotten so used to having them around that he couldn’t ever imagine them ever being out of his life. That house had been there since Yeonjun’s 5th birthday and then promptly abandoned for a year after he found a snail in it—and it never seemed to leave. 

Beomgyu, three at the time and much braver, had dared to pick it up and proceeded to show Yeonjun it was only an empty shell. From then on it had become their little cottage in the woods. Later they adopted Taehyun the Cat as their cottage pet who would search for herbs with them to make potions that would make him human. 

Beomgyu honestly thought he would die before that house did, but fate runs its course. Even its outline has long been overgrown with patches of moss and grass. 

They take the long way home, passing through all the streets their parents told them not to cross. The houses aren’t quite as scary in the day, and the people in them not as hostile. There are some children playing in the streets, kicking their balls off the edge of the sidewalk. 

“Your radio show, how’s it going for you? I like your questions segment a lot,” Taehyun starts speaking. “You’re still as insightful as ever.” 

“You listen to it?” Beomgyu asks, eyes wide. 

“Hm, yeah. When it gets lonely at night. Your voice is very soothing.” Taehyun looks over to him. “I have something to ask too. I’d love to hear what Beomgyu from the midnight radio has to say about it.”

“Ask away. We only take limited questions.” 

“Tell me, when in doubt, what gives you hope?” 

Beomgyu opens his mouth to answer, but the words don’t form in his mind. He is left to gape at Taehyun, then turn away frowning. What gives him hope? Beomgyu has always just let things happen. He sets his mind to something and it happens, but when it doesn’t he is devastated. What gives him hope?

Beomgyu hasn’t hoped in a long time. He hasn’t had dreams in a very long time, unless it’s the ones he has at night that are so surrealistic and psychedelic he can’t even begin to make sense of them. 

All his days up to this one week had been a blur of the same. Wake up, wallow, work, and head back. Scroll until his brain hurts and wonder how things could have been, had he not done things the way he has. 

Beomgyu doesn’t hope. He hasn’t really felt anything in a good while. 

“I… I wouldn’t know,” Beomgyu answers. “I’m in doubt a lot, but I don’t usually try to change it. I’ve gotten so used to it, I think I’ve stopped thinking I need to let go of it.” 

Taehyun hums. “That’s quite alright. We don’t have to know everything.” 

When he steps closer to Beomgyu and holds his hand in his own, neither of them says anything. And if Taehyun’s thumb rubs star-shaped patterns over his knuckles, it’s a moment only between them and the sky. 

Beomgyu’s heart is beating in his throat. This is it. The moment of truth. He had raced down the street and dragged Taehyun out of his house. Their bikes are lost in the high grass as they sit across each other with their letters in hands. 

“Are you ready?” Beomgyu asks. 

“No,” Taehyun admits. 

“It’s okay. Anything, it’s gonna be okay.” Beomgyu pecks Taehyun’s lips, pulling away with a shriek. The paper trembles in his hold. “Okay. Okay, I’m too nervous, let’s just get it over with.”

They share a look, sucking a deep breath at the same time. The first tear is made. Beomgyu runs his finger down it, getting stuck a few times on the way. He pulls out the letter, discarding the envelope. 

His eyes run over the letter and… his heart stops. He slaps a hand over his mouth to muffle his scream. “I got in! I got in, I got in!” He punches the air, kicking his feet. “What about you?!”

Taehyun stares at the paper in his hands, his pupils trembling. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t respond to Beomgyu’s outburst. Guilt settles in Beomgyu’s stomach as he watches Taehyun’s eyes gloss over. 

“Taehyun-ah?” he calls. 

“I…” Taehyun swallows down a lump. He looks up at Beomgyu with a tearful grin. “I did it…” 

All the worry seems to fly off Beomgyu’s shoulders. He lunges forward, wrapping his arms around Taehyun’s neck. The two of them tumble into the grass behind them. Beomgyu can already hear his mother scolding him for the grass stains he’s about to get, but he doesn’t care. He rolls over, Taehyun lying on his chest. 

“Oh my god! We did it!” Beomgyu cups Taehyun’s cheeks, cheeks hurting with how wide he’s smiling. “We did it, we did it! We’re getting out of here!” 

Taehyun giggles. He leans over, burying his face in the crook of Beomgyu’s neck. Beomgyu holds him close. He kisses the tears from his cheeks, his eyes, the tip of his nose. As the sun sets they lie side by side, their hands intertwined, watching the sky turn from pink to violet. 

“Do you think I can bring my record player?” 

Beomgyu looks down at the collection of boxes. They’re already stacking up quite far. The apartment he managed to get really isn’t all that big, so he won’t be able to bring it all. When he manages to get something better—maybe with Taehyun—they can move over the last of his stuff. 

He knows he should be fretting over the essentials, rather than something like a record player, but he would want it to feel cozy, recreate the warmness of his home. 

“Will it fit in the luggage?” Taehyun asks. He looks up from the t-shirts he had been folding, sorting them between ‘could do’ and ‘absolutely not, please toss them out’. 

Beomgyu holds out his hands, making a frame with his index fingers and thumbs, one eye shut. “If I try hard enough.” 

“You can always try.” 

Beomgyu hums. “Do you think I could try to fit in my equipment?” 

“Wouldn’t school have it for you?” 

“But what if I want to work on it on my own?” 

“You can try?”

Beomgyu sighs. There has been something off about Taehyun today. He had been mellow, a lot less responsive. He’s been keeping to himself, fussing over Beomgyu’s figurines and the best way to pack them. 

He would be leaving soon, too. As soon as summer set off, they would both be off into the bigger world, and instead of getting ready for it and instead dragging Beomgyu out as a free laborer, he is here on Beomgyu’s floor, worrying over insignificant things like display toys. 

“Why aren’t you packing yet?” Beomgyu asks. 

Taehyun sighs. He drops his hands into his lap, picking at his thumb. “I’ve just been… putting it off? I don’t know why, I just can’t get to it.” 

Beomgyu crouches down. He takes his hands in his own before he can pick them to the point of bleeding. It had been a habit he’d been trying to break. Endless picking at the edges of his finger nails. At least he’d stopped biting them after a particularly painful tug it had given his teeth. 

Beomgyu runs his thumb over the back of Taehyun’s hand. “Did something happen?” 

“I don’t know?” It sounds more like a question than an answer. He shakes his head. “Just a weird feeling. I’m sure it’ll pass, though. Now, which shirts were you deciding on?” 

When they are 18, the blanket youth had cast on them tears. It’s a small, flimsy hole, but it can’t be fixed. Not cleanly, at least. It’s one of this tears that needs fabric patched over it, one of those oddly colored ones that had once been part of a bigger sheet of fabric, crumpled up and forgotten at the bottom of the tin box. 

Beomgyu has Taehyun in his arms. His eyes are no longer wet, but his cheeks still hold the remnants of his tears. Salted crust is cracking as his face scrunches up in broken sobs. Beomgyu, too, can’t stop a sniffle from leaving him, but he keeps it in. He lets Taehyun collapse on him, clutch his shirt in a fist. 

He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t know what to say, if there is anything to say at all. There are no words of consolation, nothing that could make it seem better without dismissing the issue. Beomgyu wouldn’t believe his own words either, so instead he offers his comfort through his presence, staying steady by Taehyun’s side as his world changes forever. 

They stay together until the sun sets. Taehyun’s parents have yet to return from the hospital. He stays even after that, sitting at the dinner table. He doesn’t really eat, only poking around at his plate. When it’s time to head to bed they snuggle together in the same bed.

It’s not a rare sight. They’ve done this countless of times, huddled together under the covers, hiding from the world until they are forced to face it again when it gets too stuffy. Beomgyu’s mother especially would scold them for it, listing all the possible outcomes it could have. 

Beomgyu would then dramatically mouth her scolding word for word as it goes and Taehyun would stifle a giggle behind his palm, eyes twinkling with equal parts amusement and terror. 

They’re facing each other now, underneath the covers. Beomgyu has one hand underneath his head, the other playing with Taehyun’s slender fingers. Taehyun still hasn’t spoken much, though his small ‘thank you’s during dinner had been small and scratchy. Beomgyu’s father had placed a firm hand on his shoulder as he passed by him, giving him a squeeze. Taehyun had only responded with a small nod. 

The night has colored the room dark, but Beomgyu still had a nightlight plugged in, just in case he needed to find his way to the bathroom or if something dark and sinister wanted to lurk in his room. 

Beomgyu pulls Taehyun’s hand up and presses it to his chest. His heartbeat tremors through his ribs, steady and rhythmic. Taehyun sighs, pressing it down further, as if he’s trying to sink into it. He closes his eyes. 

“You’re going to be okay.” 

That’s the first thing Beomgyu says about it, and it’s the full truth. Taehyun will be. He always has been. He is one of the most determined people Beomgyu knows, even if what he is determined about isn’t sure. He knows what he wants and how he wants to be. 

“I have to stay, Gyu," Taehyun whispers. “I can’t leave her side. I don’t want to.” 

“I’ll stay with you,” Beomgyu says. 

“No. Your dream is there. Don’t let this hold you back.” 

“What about you, Taehyun? What about your dreams?” 

Taehyun shakes his head. He shuffles closer to Beomgyu, hiding his face in Beomgyu’s chest. His hair tickles Beomgyu’s nose, but he lets him be, wrapping his arm around him, running his fingers through his now white hair. He feels each strand, rough with damage. If he spins them he can twist them into any shape of his desires. 

“It’s okay,” Taehyun murmurs. “The stars a brighter over here.” 

That’s when Beomgyu feels the first tears hit his skin. They’re hot, fresh from his sadness. Taehyun’s sobs are silent aside from the occasional gasp. They get muffled by Beomgyu’s neck. Taehyun squeezes Beomgyu’s hand with each sniffle. 

Beomgyu holds him close, pressing fleeting hisses to his forehead, drawing all the shapes he knows and then he invents new ones. “You’re going to be okay.” 

“You already said that,” Taehyun says, his voice even more nasal than it usually is. 

“And I’ll say it again. You need to know.” 

Beomgyu wriggles down, ruining his sheets as he goes. Taehyun giggles at that, thick with tears, but it’s a laugh nonetheless. Beomgyu will take it. 

He stops only when he is eye to eye with Taehyun, cupping his cheek. “I’ll still be there with you.” 

Taehyun smiles. “Of course you’ll be. You’ll always be there.” 

Beomgyu moves a week later. His father rents a van and loads in all the boxes. Taehyun is there too, carrying whatever he can. Beomgyu’s mother dabs away her tears, though Beomgyu can tell it’s a lot more performative than when Yeonjun had moved out. Then again, Yeonjun had moved across the globe rather than a few driving hours away, so he supposes he can forgive her. 

He stuffs his hands in his pockets, watching as the final box gets stuffed away. His father jumps in the back, shuffling them around to make it so that they fit exactly to perfection. 

Taehyun comes to stand in front of him, looking down at his feet. “So this is it, then.” 

“Yeah…” Beomgyu breathes out. “Yeah this is it.” 

“You’re gonna go far. I know you will.” 

“You really have the most faith in me.” 

“I can tell. I’m psychic of sorts.” Taehyun grins, though it doesn’t quite stretch as far. It’s not all teeth and there are no crow feet around his eyes, but his eyes glimmer. “Hey, Gyu, I, uhm, I got you a little something.” 

“A gift? For me?” Beomgyu gasps, playing it up. It doesn’t do anything. His voice still cracks and his eyes still water. 

Taehyun runs his thumb underneath his eye, catching the tears before they can fall. He then takes Beomgyu’s hand, pressing something into it. It’s still hot with Taehyun’s touch. He must have been holding onto it for a while, rehearsing this moment over and over in his mind to absolute perfection. 

Beomgyu raises it to his hand. It’s a little keychain, made out of wood. The edges are rough and the painting of the details are a little shaky. On the side Beomgyu’s initials are written. The polish is a little uneven. Beomgyu clutches it to his chest. It’s a little guitar, made specially for him. 

“You made me this?” Beomgyu asks.

“One day I’ll get you the real deal,” Taehyun assures him. “Trust me. This is like… Like, shit what do you call it? When you get an apartment.” 

“Down payment?” 

“Why do you know that word?” 

“Well, I’ve been searching for places for ages. You gotta be early! Else you won’t be given anything.” Beomgyu’s tone drops into a whisper. He pulls Taehyun in for a hug, hiding his face away. “Thank you so much, Taehyun.” 

Taehyun returns the hug. His arms wrap so tight around him he fears he’s going to suffocate. “I’m going to miss you.” 

“You will.” 

Taehyun rolls his eyes, walking Beomgyu on the head gently. “Ruining the moment.” 

He pulls away, sniffling. He wipes at his nose, leaning back with his hands in his pockets once again, rocking back and forth on his feet. Beomgyu sighs shakily, bringing his hand up to cup Taehyun’s cheek. He leans into his line of sight. 

“Of course I’m going to miss you,” Beomgyu murmurs through a smile. “And you’re gonna go far, too. One day you will.” 

The city is larger than Beomgyu thought it would be. There’s a road right next to his apartment, that seems to be occupied at all times, and yet it’s quiet. His apartment can barely be called that. It’s a room, more than anything. It’s the width of a bed and the length of one and a half. How the hell they managed to get a semi-functioning kitchen in there is beyond him, but it is quite amazing. 

When he finally settles he calls Taehyun, touring him around. It’s over quickly. Once he had seen one end, the other isn’t quite as exciting anymore. He flops down on his bed—a lot smaller than he was used to and yet so empty without the superfluous plushies and the occasional body. 

“And over here,” Beomgyu says, “I have the shrine to us.”

“It looks so silly.” Taehyun’s voice crackles through the speakers. 

“Are you disrespecting us?” Beomgyu gasps. “Also, I’m planning on expanding it! Right now it’s just one, but there’s gonna be a lot, okay?” 

“Uh huh, uh huh.” Taehyun’s screen blurs as he falls onto his bed. “So, do you already know the best places?” 

“I’m planning on doing a little tour tomorrow, see where and how before school starts.” 

“You’re gonna have to take me around there. No choice. You’re gonna be my tour guide.” 

“Duh. Wouldn’t want you to get lost.” 

Taehyun chuckles. “You underestimate me.” 

“Oh yeah?” Beomgyu challenges him. ”Remind me which one of us got lost in a town he grew up in?” 

“Hey, in my defense! I was six!” Taehyun exclaims. 

“And yet I didn’t do that at that age.” 

Taehyun glares at him. “I don’t like you.” 

“Oh, ouch! Ah, my heart?” Beomgyu doubles over in feigned pain, clutching his chest. “Do you hear that? Do you hear it cracking?” 

“I’m hanging up,” Taehyun announces. 

“The pain! The betrayal! Oh, ouch! It is unbearable.”

Taehyun sighs, though the edges of his mouth lift up. “Sleep well, Gyu,” he whispers. 

Beomgyu’s chest stutters a beat. “You too, Tyun.” 

Beomgyu rushes up the stairs of his building. These stairs were meant only for emergencies, but he was going to make an exception tonight. After all, tonight was not like any other nights, and special nights deserve to get special treatment. 

He settles on one of the blocks on their roof, fumbling through the pockets of his winter coat for his phone. It takes three rings before Taehyun’s face pops into view. He’s walking somewhere, his now purple hair bouncing along with him. The sky is clear, even through the limited amount of pixels. 

Beomgyu grins. “Hey, Taehyun-ah!” 

“Hey, are you looking out the window?” Taehyun sounds breathless when he finally gets to sit down. He heaves. “Ah, sorry. I was rushing. So?”

“Nope!” Beomgyu exclaims. “But got my full view on it. I snuck up to the roof of my building—don’t tell.” 

Taehyun chuckles. “Always the rebel.” 

“And you know it!” Beomgyu lies back down, facing the sky. There is a line of yellow at the horizon from where the streetlights bounce off against the sky. He hopes it doesn’t hinder anything. “So, what time are they supposed to be passing over?”

“In a few moments,” Taehyun says. 

His screen shifts as he adjusts his hold. Beomgyu remembers those waves. He remembers the way they felt underneath his fingers, how they scratched. He had done it, despite Taehyun’s warnings. 

“Where are you sitting?” Beomgyu asks. 

“I biked out to the edge of the field. The bicycle path with the bench that has weird art figures on it.”

“Your spot’s already so much cooler!” 

“Hm, what about it, city boy?” Taehyun gasps. His face blurs out with it. “Oh! It’s starting!” 

Beomgyu glances up at the ink black sky, seeing nothing but the passing of clouds.  “Is it?” 

“Woah! Oh my god, it’s so cool. It’s like it’s raining stars!” 

Taehyun’s eyes sparkle. Had Beomgyu been there he was sure he would be able to see the silver rain perfectly in them. He would shine like he belonged amongst them, going so fast he would break through the stratosphere. 

Beomgyu realizes as the time passes that he won’t be seeing any stars raining down on him. The sky is murky with clouds and streetlights, billboards and cars. 

“Did they pass over there yet?” Taehyun’s voice is a few pitches higher. 

“Yeah,” Beomgyu lies. “It’s… It’s really beautiful.” 

“I wish you were here,” Taehyun whispers. 

Beomgyu looks up at the endless black above him, tracing down where he imagines the light to break. “I do too.” 

Beomgyu runs through the garden as Yeonjun’s figure enters the gate. Taehyun chuckles at his excitement, rising to his feet as well. It’s a little clumsy, his cheeks rosy and hot with intoxication, but he follows after them with a steady pace, trying to hold his kitty mug steady. 

Beomgyu wraps Yeonjun up in a headlock. “Yeonjun!” 

Yeonjun lets out a choked sound, dropping his bags. He playfully punches Beomgyu in the side, a quadruple combo. Beomgyu groans, stumbling a few steps clutching his ‘injury’. He cries out in defeat, falling to his knees. 

Yeonjun chuckles. He pats Beomgyu’s head. “Hey, little shit. Why don’t you call?” 

“I forgot.” Beomgyu grins sheepishly. “How are you? How was your flight?” 

Yeonjun groans, stretching his limbs. “Flight was awful, but I’ve been getting used to it. Been doing some shows, giving classes, you know. But Gyu, what about you? How have you been holding up?” 

“Just fine,” Beomgyu says, keeping it short. 

Yeonjun nods. He waves over Beomgyu’s head. “Hey, Taehyun. It’s good to see you again, all grown up.” 

“Ack!” Taehyun stumbles, holding his hands in front of his eyes. “Your foreign aura is blinding me!” 

“Ass,” Yeonjun mutters. He nods over at the mug. “You’re drinking? Pour me one.” 

Taehyun salutes him. He is three steps ahead the two of them as Beomgyu helps carry one of Yeonjun’s bags. He wonders just what he had brought over, and how long he was planning on staying. Two pieces of luggage was a commitment, especially if they were this size. 

They settle down on their porch just as Taehyun comes out with the final mug to complete the collection. Yeonjun gets his fox full of wine shoved into his hands as Beomgyu settles with his puppy one. 

Yeonjun huffs out a laugh, taking a sip of their finest quality supermarket rosé. He pulls up his nose. “Damn, it’s just like before. You two would always bug me to get you the cheapest wine around.” 

“And you did it with love,” Beomgyu says. “Always inviting yourself over, too.” 

“Someone’s gotta keep an eye on the pair of you,” Yeonjun grins, looking out ahead of them. “Remember when Beomgyu fell out of your tree? The plum one.” 

Taehyun claps his hands, mouth falling open. “Of course I do! He got stuck by his underwear first before he tumbled. It’s so funny in retrospect, but in the moment I thought he was going to die.” 

“Broken arm. How could I forget.” Beomgyu chuckles, pulling up his sleeve. Two scarred bumps rest on his skin. “Look at that, still got the battle scars.” 

Yeonjun hums, looking at Taehyun. “Your mother wasn’t even concerned.”

Taehyun laughs. “She watched the whole thing happen from the window. She was already ready when we came in crying. Placed Gyu on the chair and stuffed a cookie in his mouth so she could inspect the injury in peace and said—“ 

“Next time at least wait for harvesting season. You would’ve taken them all down for me and done me a huge favor,” Yeonjun imitates her, stern expression and all. He shakes his head. “What a woman.” 

“I miss her.” Taehyun sighs, looking out over the horizon. He takes a long sip from his cup. 

“Of course you do,” Beomgyu murmurs. “You’re probably going to miss her for a while.” 

“I know,” Taehyun mumbles. He lays his head on Beomgyu’s shoulder. 

The three of them stay huddled together, telling loud stories of has-beens and blunders and what’s-to-comes until their mother eventually comes out on the porch to kick the bunch of them to bed. Sometimes it really feels like nothing has ever really changed. 

Taehyun is safely tucked in his arms, under the sheets as they share the secrets of the universe and drawing their patterns on each other’s cheeks. Yeonjun rolls over, his hand slapping Beomgyu in the face. Beomgyu kicks him in the side, all the way back to his own mat. He doesn’t even budge, merely rolling over and tangling himself into his blankets. 

Taehyun muffles a snort behind his hand, his eyes looking like they’re about to bulge. Beomgyu, too, has to keep his lips pressed tightly together to not make any noise. Yeonjun flops onto his stomach, all his limbs spread out. Must have been one hell of a flight. 

“Taehyun-ah!” Beomgyu blows a party horn, readjusting the party hat on his head. “Happy birthday! How’s it feel to be 21?”

“Like being 20,” Taehyun deadpans. He kicks off his shoes, giving Beomgyu a nice view of the ceiling. They have a chandelier now. That’s nice. 

“Wise observation,” Beomgyu says. “That’s exactly how it feels. Had a good celebration?” 

“Yeah, went out with some of my college friends to it a hell ton of meat. I just got back home.” 

“Oh, Taehyun, are you tipsy?” 

Taehyun’s face pops back into view, a little too close for comfort. It’s that one angle that twists up his features and makes him look like a mosquito. It’s now that Beomgyu can see the light rose hue dusting his cheeks and his unfocused pupils.. 

“Barely.” Taehyun stumbles, catching himself on the wall with a small curse. He clears his throat. “How are you?” 

Just as Beomgyu is about to scold him and get him into bed a voice interrupts him. 

“Taehyun, who are you talking to?”

Beomgyu grins widely as she steps into the frames. She is looking paler than she ever had, dark circles under her eyes and her cheeks gaunt. Her hair is thinning, but she still stands proud, her hands on her hips and her eyes sharp and ready to scold Taehyun for his shenanigans. 

Beomgyu waves at her. “It’s me, Mrs Kang!” 

“Oh, Beomgyu-yah!” Her tone softens. She holds the phone steady. “How are you doing?” 

“All good, all good. Your beauty is shining today,” Beomgyu says. He puts his phone further from him, bowing. “Thank you so much for giving birth to such a fine specimen as Taehyun.” 

Taehyun’s mother waves, shaking her head. “Ah, no problem. If only that fine specimen would tell me until what time he’s staying out.” 

“Mooom,” Taehyun whines. 

She pinches his cheek. “I’ll stop bothering you, don’t worry. Go and talk to Beomgyu.” 

Taehyun hums. He stumbles up the stairs with the grace of a newborn fawn, forgoes his nigh routine and plops right onto his mattress. He rolls around for a bit until he bunches up his sheets enough for them to form something like a pillow. He rests his chin on it, resting Beomgyu against his headboard. 

“So,” he says.  

“So,” Beomgyu echoes. He lies down, too, pretending they’re in the same room, in the same space. If he tries hard enough, maybe he can touch him. “Tell me. How has the birthday boy been showered with affection?” 

Taehyun rolls his eyes, but the smile is not lost to him. He starts telling Beomgyu about how he had been dragged along to some hole in the wall restaurant, all while his friends had been cheering him on, singing countless of happy birthdays in all the wrong tunes and with all the wrong rhythms. 

“I wish you were there,” he admits, voice thick with exhaustion. “I think you would have loved them.” 

Beomgyu only hums his affirmation. Any words he would be saying now, Taehyun wouldn’t catch anyway. His eyelids droop. 

Beomgyu smiles gently. “Just sleep. It’s okay. I’ll be here.” 

Taehyun shakes his head in protest, but eventually the sleep he had been trying to fight off is stronger than him. If Beomgyu were there he would have tucked him in, made sure the pillow was underneath his head and that he wasn’t too hot or cold. He would get a bottle of water read by his beside for when he wakes up parched the next morning. 

The room is dark, filled with nothing but white noise and Taehyun’s steady breathing. Beomgyu sighs. 

The door slowly creaks open. Taehyun’s mother stands in the doorway, peeking right around the corner. The light from behind is not enough to show her features, but Beomgyu can tell she’s surprised by the way she freezes up. 

“Beomgyu? You’re still here?” she asks.

“Hm, yeah. It’s been a while since we called,’ Beomgyu says. 

Taehyun’s mother nods. She sneaks closer on her toes, leaning down by Taehyun’s side. She runs her fingers through his hair, undoing the knots. “He misses you a lot, you know?” 

“I miss him too,” Beomgyu finds himself admitting. 

And it’s true. The city is big and it’s filled with things and impulses and nameless faces, but it’s lonely. It’s cold. It’s not quite like home, and Beomgyu is starting to realize it won’t ever be. There is no one to come back to and as he works for a fading dream and his days blur into one big patch of gray, Beomgyu starts living on memories instead. 

“Thank you for caring for him like this,” Taehyun’s mother says.  

“Of course. I love him.” 

“I know.” She smiles at him. “Goodnight, Beomgyu.” 

“Good night, Miss.” 

Beomgyu falls asleep with an aching heart, and he wakes up alone. 

Taehyun’s mother gets buried on a bright spring day. The sun shines through the blossoms, their petals falling down with each gust of wind. Beomgyu is one of the people assigned to carry the casket. Taehyun walks ahead of him, his head drooped. The grip he has is trembling, but he keeps them steady. 

The grass tickles Beomgyu’s ankles. The whole day had gone by in a blur, words flitting through Beomgyu’s ears. He remembers little from the ceremony and if he were to name the music played he couldn’t.

When they return from the church the plum tree is a flurry of white petals, dancing in the wind. Taehyun takes Beomgyu inside and lays a tray of cookies in front of him. His movements are static, too controlled. 

Beomgyu reaches out for one of them. They’re chocolate chip, looking like the ones Taehyun’s mother would always have at the ready. Whether it was for comfort, for consolation or just to keep them busy, she would have them right there. 

“Wow, you got it down,” Beomgyu says through crumbs. 

Taehyun hums. “It’s not quite like hers.” 

“It won’t ever be. But it will have traces of her. And her memories as well.” 

Taehyun only nods. He sits across the table, his fingers tapping on the wood as he looks out the window. The plum tree shakes in the wind. Taehyun lets out a shaky breath with it. 

“How are you feeling, Taehyun?”

No one wants to hear the question. There is an unspoken rule to answer it with positive affirmation, make it out so that things aren’t as bad as they are. It’s a fickle way to feign care, but wanting none of the baggage that comes with it. 

But Beomgyu does. He wants to carry it all with Taehyun, until their backs become brittle with wear. 

“Empty,” Taehyun admits. He shrinks into himself. “I’ve been with her every day for most of my life, and now she’s suddenly just… not there anymore. I’m still going to be searching for her. Even though my mind knows, I’m not sure if my heart does just yet.” 

“It’s going to take time.” 

Taehyun only nods. He doesn’t look at Beomgyu. “Hey, let’s go upstairs. Can you help me sort some stuff, maybe?” 

Beomgyu lets Taehyun lead him all the way up the stairs and then up a creaky ladder. He laughs as Beomgyu yelps. Each step creaks and threatens to break, a layer of dust falling down with each movement. If Beomgyu is scared, he believes it is justified. He glares at Taehyun’s backside. 

It’s as if he can sense the gaze, bursting out laughing. “No need to be so scared, Gyu,” he says. “It’s never betrayed me.” 

Beomgyu is frantic, clutching onto the rotting wood with all his might, as if that will hold him off the ground if it decides to break. “There’s a first time for everything!” 

Taehyun clambers over the edge, his head poking out from the gap. He holds the ladder still. “Come on up then. I’ve got you.” 

Beomgyu looks up at him with a tender smile. He nods. He clambers into a sort of wonderland, Taehyun guiding him up the final steps and scuffling him over the ledge. 

The attic is covered in a fine layer of forgottenness, like white frost atop the grass when it first freezes over. There are many things, all with a significance lost to time. Along the sides some forgotten Christmas ornaments decorate the floor in their fallen glitter. 

Beomgyu follows Taehyun all the way to the edge. They can’t quite stand up straight, the slanting of the roof far too narrow for that. The both of them are rather tall men, after all, even if Beomgyu liked to tease Taehyun about his height when he hit his growth spurt first. 

Taehyun plops down, pushing out some boxes. Beomgyu sits across him, his legs crossed. He rubs his thighs. “So. What’s the task?” 

“Just some of Mom’s old stuff to sort through,” Taehyun says. “See what to keep and what to throw out.” 

Beomgyu frowns. “You don’t have to do that already…” 

“No, I want to. It’s alright. It’s better to keep the things that matter. I don’t think Mom would want me hogging her old paperwork.” 

“Maybe she would want you to make an archive!” 

“Hm, no. She was very explicit about that one. Now, this one’s yours.” 

He shoves a box further into Beomgyu’s direction with his feet while his hands are already reaching into another one. Beomgyu huffs the hair out of his eyes, though when he leans forward it falls right back into his face. He decides to tie it back, for the sake of convenience. 

“You really committed to that long hair bit,” Taehyun comments. “I remember you started growing it out at the same time I bleached my strands to shit.” 

“It had some rough chops in between. Honestly, I’ve just been prolonging that visit to the haircutter, and now it’s… well. This.” Beomgyu looks up through his strands, taking one between his fingers and twisting it around. He shrugs. “It looks good, though.” 

“It does. You’ve got the face of a god.”

“How do you know what gods look like?” 

“I met one once,” Taehyun says. His fingers reach through the pile of papers. “He was a bit of a bastard, though. He closed his communication shrine.” 

Beomgyu sinks his head down. He reaches further into the box. “Wow, picture albums.” He reaches further. “Oh, Tae, this one has you in it.” 

Taehyun is immediately by his side, leaning in front of him to flip over the pages. It’s pictures from Taehyun all throughout his infancy, and then his childhood. Beomgyu is surprised how many of them have him in it as well, Yeonjun usually shortly behind. It’s them in each other's homes, gardens, the park, school. They have been about everywhere in this town and they have done it side by side. 

Beomgyu bursts out laughing. “Oh, god, it’s when Yeonjun lost both his front teeth.” 

“Weren’t you so desperate to follow him?” Taehyun reminds him. He flips the page.“Because he got money for it, you wriggled your teeth to no end even though they weren’t even loose yet.” 

“These are from our trip! From my audition day!” Beomgyu’s eyes sparkle in awe, running his fingers over the time-worn paper. “Wow, you took so many.” 

“There was a lot to see, and you fit in so well there,” Taehyun says. 

There is one of Beomgyu caught in the moment. It’s slightly blurry with motion, but the smile is not to be missed. He is reaching out, reaching for the camera. The next picture already shows what his intentions had been, with Taehyun doing a dramatic pose in front of one of the most insignificant signs, mimicking the slipping pictogram over the wet floor. 

“Says you,” Beomgyu snorts. “Look at you, mister model.” 

“You flatter me.” 

“Compliments.” 

Taehyun lets out a long sigh. “This was all so long ago. We look so young.” 

They fleet through the pages, some of them filled with anecdotes, while others have them groveling through their minds to find the context of it, only to come up with nothing. 

“Oh… graduation…” Beomgyu murmurs. 

“Wow. Look at us.” Taehyun leans closer. He cackles. “Look at you. Why do you look like you’re in pain?!” 

Beomgyu pouts. “Hey now. I was happy as can be.” 

It’s a flurry of togas around them, each person with their respective group of people, posing with their bouquets and diplomas right in front of the school. Beomgyu and Taehyun are only one of the few victims, but that doesn’t make it any less tragic. 

“Ey, why are you two so awkward? Get closer together! Come on, come on! Heads together!” Taehyun’s mother rolls her eyes. “What’s all this?” 

“They’re just being shy,” Beomgyu’s mother pipes in, her eyes glimmering. “Don’t pretend like you haven’t been cuddling each other to sleep every chance you get!” 

“Mom!” Beomgyu groans. 

“What? Am I lying?” 

Beomgyu curls his arm around Taehyun’s, pulling him into him. His lips stretch into a tight grin. “Let’s give them what they want,” he says through his teeth. 

“They already have pictures, I don’t understand—“ 

“Because they looked like crap, Kang Taehyun,” his mother cuts him up. 

Taehyun stiffens up. He wraps his arm around Beomgyu. “Smile, Gyu. She’s not going to be satisfied until it’s perfect.” 

Beomgyu doesn’t say it, but the thought does briefly flash through his mind. He glances to the side, his smile dropping. Taehyun is right by his side, beaming from ear to ear. He cheers, holding up his flowers. 

Beomgyu wishes he could freeze this moment in time, just keep it for a second longer. Here they are Beomgyu and Taehyun who live a block apart and meet each other each day by the bus stop to bike to school together. Each frame that holds Taehyun will be on the brink of perfection. 

“Choi Beomgyu! Smile!” 

His eyes are blinded with a flash. He never really made the shot. 

“You keep asking me what I’m going to do, but what about you?” Taehyun asks. “What do you want to do?” 

The picture albums have been put aside by now and Taehyun had given up on sorting paper. Instead they sit together in silence, surrounded by Christmas fuzz and fake snow.

“I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing,” Beomgyu says. 

“But is that what you want?” 

“It’s what I do.” 

Taehyun frowns. “But you wish you didn’t have to.” 

“Is it really, though?” Beomgyu asks. “Do you even know who I am?” 

His tone is too snappy, not at all what Taehyun deserves. It’s angry and accusing. It’s like a dog barking because it’s too afraid to bite, barking to make itself look bigger than it really is, to keep away anyone who would dare corner him. 

“Gyu… Beomgyu, please,” Taehyun sighs. “Please, no need to get angry. We can talk.” 

Beomgyu falls silent. He looks down at his thumbs, picking at the rims of his fingernails. 

“I just… It’s not you who doesn’t know who I am. I don’t know who I am,” he admits. “That dream was the one thing I wanted to become, and now that I am not… I just don’t quite know what I am searching for anymore. I don’t hate my job. I quite enjoy it, but it’s not what I had envisioned.” 

“You can’t plan life,” Taehyun says. “There will always be twists and turns, events you could never anticipate. You can of course work for things, but if they don’t work out, it isn’t the end of it. 

“Plus, dreams change, or they disappear. You don’t have to dream for things, Beomgyu. And dreams don’t have to be great things. They don’t have to be reaching for the stars. It’s alright to just look at them.” 

“There are no stars in the city,” Beomgyu murmurs. 

Taehyun reaches out, running his fingers through Beomgyu’s hair. “Wanna head out to the bench?” 

“Of course.” Beomgyu tries his best to smile. “Let’s go?” 

“Want me to buy you strawberry milk?” 

“Ey. Of course.” 

The fields are yet to turn golden. There’s still wheat and it still hurts when you run your fingers through it, but it’s as gorgeous to look at. They still roll like waves and Beomgyu still wants them to carry him to edge of the world. 

Taehyun is still by his side and he is still sipping his strawberry milk straight from the carton. He still likes those bear-shaped cookies with way too little filling and he still eats five of them in one go. 

“You think things would have gone different?” Beomgyu finds himself asking. “If you could have, would you have come with me?” 

“Well, you wanted the world. At the moment I couldn’t give you that,” Taehyun says. “You wanted the world, and our small town couldn’t give you that either. We can wonder about the would have’s, but things won’t change that, even if we dwell on it. I couldn’t ask you to stay, even if you said you would. You would have hated me for it.” 

“Will you come with me, then? Not now, but in the future.” 

Taehyun sucks in a deep breath. He folds the carton into itself, closes the top and reopens it again. “I don’t know, Beomgyu. I really don’t,” he mumbles. “Some people dream big, Beomgyu. But sometimes dreams are only dreams. We have to let them rest.” 

“That’s so hopeless.” 

“It’s realistic, though. There’s no use lying to yourself.” 

“And where do dreams go to die?” Beomgyu leans back, letting the breeze run over his cheeks and nip at his nose. “I don’t think dreams ever really die. They fade. They lessen. And then, eventually, you let them go.

“It hurts. It hurts a lot. I’m just not the person I thought I would be, but I’m not the person I thought I was. I’m mean and I’m cold, not at all as warm as I always prided myself to be. I get judgmental and I get scared. I always thought I was pretty great, but that doesn’t seem to be very true.” 

“That’s the thing, isn’t it? We are rarely the people we think we are,” Taehyun says. “Who you are to me is not who you are to another, and what you are with them is not what you are with me. We are many people all at once. We have so many different faces, so why would we pick just one of them?

“So what if you’re mean? So am I, and your mother, and even the guy at the store. But you are also kind, and you are angry, and you glow when you’re happy. We change. There’s no need to dwell.” 

Beomgyu nods. “You really know what to say, don’t you?” 

Taehyun shrugs. “Just sharing my thoughts.” 

“If I told you I loved you, would you believe me?” 

“Do you love me?” 

“With all my heart.” 

“Then it must be true,” Taehyun says with hum. “Your heart’s always been honest.” 

Beomgyu nods. He looks out ahead of him. The fields dance and in the distance the highway runs as busy as ever. The town is still small and it still is quiet at night. The streets are safe enough for kids to run over, save for the occasional car passing through. 

Those things never quite change. The people inside do. They leave, they come back. They build new things in their yards and open new stores, only to watch them fall. 

Beomgyu has changed. He is changing, but so is Taehyun. So Beomgyu gets cold and he gets meaner and he stops dreaming, but by the fucking gods, does he keep living. And he will keep doing so, with his heart still on his sleeve, ready to catch a new flurry to chase up to the point of feeling restless, all while keeping Taehyun locked in his heart with a hand carved key. 

“They should do something about those dirt roads,” Beomgyu comments. 

“Hm, I think they have quite the charm,” Taehyun says. 

“Say that again when your tires get stuck in them.” 

“Point made.” 

“That’s what I thought.” 

When the second week comes to a closing Beomgyu readies himself to return. He didn’t bring any clothes, living solely in all that fit him from his high school days. He just thanks his younger self for having such an affinity with oversized clothing. Though he may look like a teenage dirtbag, it fits at least. 

He spends most of his days by Taehyun and Yeonjun’s sides, oftentimes with their parents in tow. They cook together, play together. Sometimes they talk, sometimes they sit in silence. There is still an air of loss that coats their homes, a presence that is gone and will forever be missed, but it’s slowly getting filled with stories of fonder times. Forever, after all, isn’t something that is meant for people. Rather, it’s a word for memories. When the flesh is gone, the spirit remains. 

Yeonjun will be staying until the end of the season. His work will pick up again in the next month, filled with rehearsals and big stars and life on the road with more back ache than one would ever imagine. 

Taehyun walks him to the bus stop. Their hands are stuck together like glue. He has Beomgyu’s bag slung over his shoulder, insisting on carrying it just for the sake of saving face in front of Beomgyu’s parents—as if they hadn’t seen Taehyun grow up into the man he had become today. 

“Come by sometime, and don’t leave me hanging,” Taehyun tells him, straightening out his collar and smoothing out his jacket. 

“Of course I will,” Beomgyu says. “I can’t stay away for too long now can I.” 

“I’ll come for you, okay?” Taehyun says. “When everything is settled, I’ll come after you.” 

“I’m in no rush. You know I’ll be there.” 

Taehyun grins. “Of course you’ll be.” 

Beomgyu cups both Taehyun’s cheeks and presses their mouths together. It’s slow, the way they move together. He explores each inch of Taehyun, feels each tip of his teeth, and every crack running over his lips. He kisses him with a lot less teeth and a lot more love. It’s not hotheaded and it’s not overthrown by passion, but it’s there and it is pure. 

It lingers deep in his bones, will sink into the ground with him and stay there even as the earth covers him over. 

The bus comes to a halt in front of them. Taehyun goes with him each step of the way, until Beomgyu rises up the stairs, paying for his ticket. Taehyun still trails him as he goes to sit down, pressing his hand to the window. He creaks it open, just to catch Taehyun’s voice. 

As the bus starts driving, Taehyun curls his hand around his mouth, yelling after him, “Don’t stray too far, okay?!”  

As if Beomgyu ever could. He waves at him, keeps doing so until he is nothing but a dot in the horizon. Everywhere, in every way, Taehyun will be with him always. He will hold onto him until his flesh turns to food for the worms, until new life will grow atop what was once left of him. 

Each night caries sleepless souls, people in search for comfort—whether it be from strangers or from those they carry close. Beomgyu hums along to the song playing, running his eyes over the questions. 

Kai is talking to him about the guitar, still asking when to come visit. In between he tells him about something that happened along the course of his day, his week. Then he circles back. 

“When are you gonna show it to me?” he whines. “I’ve been looking forward to it.” 

“I think I’m keeping it,” Beomgyu tells him. 

“What?! What made you change your mind?” 

“It’s a mighty beauty, is it not? Why would I throw that out of the way?” 

Kai slinks back into his seat, but doesn’t argue. The song fades into a few soft strums, strings echoing off the walls. Beomgyu readjusts his headphones, grinning into the microphone.

How does one move forward? 

Well. Things don’t clear up easily. Clothes won’t move just because they’re blown at, but with a push from the wind in your back they just might. 

Perhaps one moves forward by making all the wrong choices and wonder just what the point is, perhaps by driving to the end of the world in search of purpose and finding that it was never meant to be found there. Perhaps it’s by falling in love so quickly and so passionately there is a reason again, or perhaps it’s by swearing a soul to some type of entity who promises goodness and peace. 

Moving forward doesn’t have one face. Healing comes with many forms. It is shapeless, ready to be moulded into anything it needs to be. Sometimes it slinks, but other times its edge is so sharp gliding off seems so much better than reaching the top. But sometimes it fits. Not perfectly, of course, but well enough to fill in the edges. 

“I get so many existentialist questions with you lot, isn’t it? Late nights really make you think about a lot of things.” He looks down at his screen. “How does one move forward? Well, it’s quite simple, honestly. 

“One day you decide that the way you’re living is not how you want to live anymore, and the way you are is no longer how you want to be. It can be a slow transition, or it can be a spontaneous decision happening overnight, but one day you’ll look back and realize that things have changed.

“It may sound a little overly positive. It is, to be honest. Maybe it’s because I’m happier these days. I wish you all the same.” Beomgyu grins, saying in a soft voice, “This was Beomgyu from the midnight radio. And Taehyun-ah, it’s raining stars tonight. Do you see them too?”