Chapter Text
Yeonjun wakes up slowly, drowsy and warm, the sun’s gentle rays soothing on his face. His chest rises, exhaling slowly. He smacks his dry lips; cotton-mouth, with the weird aftertaste of something sweet he can’t place that reminds him of the weird poisonous drinks Wooyoung kept passing to him last night with a wink and an obnoxious giggle.
His nose scrunches at the memory. Aged whiskey stolen from Wooyoung’s father’s liquor cabinet didn’t mix well with fruity syrups and mango-infused tequila, no matter how much his friend insisted on it. Beomgyu liked them alright but he was the outlier, really.
Yeonjun stiffens. Speak of the devil and he shall appear.
“Hyung…” Beomgyu whines, burying his face deeper into Yeonjun’s pecs, a strange but familiar weight on his chest. “Go close the blinds.”
Yeonjun hesitates for reasons unknown to him, feeling his heart rise to his throat. “Can’t.” His eyes stray to his right, trying to peek at the bear clock the younger insisted he bought during a little friendly outing so many weeks ago.
7.10 a.m.
He stayed?
A bit too early for Yeonjun and a bit too late for Beomgyu, knowing the unwritten rules of their totally-not-serious-but-kind-of-serious arrangement.
Beomgyu huffs, a bit more awake, his warm lips pressed right into Yeonjun’s pulse point. “...What?” Beomgyu’s voice is deep, and scratchy, almost as if overused. Yeonjun shivers.
Yeonjun shrugs, feeling himself sweat. Beomgyu is naked against him — both of them are, and Yeonjun is growing a little too aware of it — and Yeonjun is beginning to overheat, for multiple reasons. The room still smells of sex, of the jumbled scent of honey and tart citrus.
His tongue feels too heavy in his mouth when he speaks again, nuzzling into Beomgyu’s head. “Can’t. Too lazy.”
Beomgyu groans, his tongue playfully darting out and licking a line across Yeonjun’s scent glands. “Not even for me?”
Yeonjun’s hands wrap around a thigh, pushing it over his own legs. His cock fills out, ever so slowly, as a sweet scent reaches his nose. He hums, eyes sneakily searching for the almost empty box of condoms on the nightstand, “Maybe if you let me go so I could get up?”
Beomgyu shivers. He shifts, pressing his groin against Yeonjun, slick slowly gathering between his thighs. Yeonjun’s fingers drum along soft skin, feeling goosebumps form under his touch.
“I think I have another idea,” the younger murmurs, shifting just enough for his leg to graze against Yeonjun’s erect cock. Yeonjun sighs, throwing his head back as Beomgyu presses little wet kisses in a maddening trail until their lips finally touch.
They moan in each other’s mouths, sounds wet and loud in the quiet of the room. The comforter slips away, thrown somewhere Yeonjun didn’t pay attention to, and yet it’s hot, so hot, as Beomgyu climbs on top of him. Yeonjun grinds up, wetness pooling on his cock as his hands cup the younger’s flushed face.
Beomgyu trembles, arching his back when Yeonjun inserts two fingers into his hole, down to the knuckle. “You are still loose,” Yeonjun grins as he breaks from the kiss, almost wolf-like, his sharp incisors on full display, “Exactly how I like.”
“Shut up,” Beomgyu sniffles, looking like a vision from Heaven with his sleep-crusted eyes and messy bedhead. His hips sway along to the rhythm of Yeonjun’s fingers, stuttering when Yeonjun a third and a fourth one. Beomgyu’s eyebrows shoot up, surprised. “You want to knot me so early in the morning?”
“Never too early,” Yeonjun says as he reaches to the nightstand for a condom, distracted by the younger’s needy sighs.
“Dude—” Beomgyu yelps when Yeonjun pinches his nipple. “Why are you calling me dude with my fingers up your ass?”
Beomgyu rolls his eyes, before snatching the condom away from his hand, mockery in his voice as he imitates him. He grabs Yeonjun’s cock, trying to tear the condom packet with his teeth, “ Ahjussi, I have to be able to walk, I have something very important today.”
Yeonjun hums, not really paying attention, his eyes stuck on the way how small the other’s hand looks on him, long, thin fingers cupping his wet cockhead. “Oh, really? And what is that?”
Beomgyu snarls and he giggles, knowing how much playful disinterest grates on his nerves. “Well, I have a da—” He pauses, freezing.
Yeonjun asks, confused. He is painfully hard, and the smell of sex and omega is getting to his head. “A what?”
“Fuck,” Beomgyu curses, breaking out of his stupor as he stumbles away from Yeonjun, edging towards the edge of the bed. “What’s the time?” He questions, eyes frantic, fully ignoring Yeonjun’s small protests. Beomgyu stands up, in his naked glory, and paws at the floor in search of what he presumes to be his phone.
“Huh?” Yeonjun sits up, the cogs in his head still too slow. “The time?” He searches for his phone, hidden amongst the sheets amidst the passion.
“It’s, uh,” he stutters, eyes meeting Beomgyu’s panicked ones. “It’s 8.10 a.m. Why?”
The omega breathes out shakily, before clumsily reaching down to gather his clothes, strewn messily across the room when they had found themselves after abandoning their friends during Wooyoung’s party.
“I have this, this—” Beomgyu dresses himself faster than Yeonjun had ever seen him, ignoring the slick on his thighs as he pulls up his jeans. “This date at 9, and it will take me like, an hour to get there. It’s like at this cafe across town, supposed to be all hipster and stuff.”
“A date?” Yeonjun asks dumbly, aghast. He feels suddenly cold, despite the heat that had almost burned his skin off just moments ago.
“Yes, I am so sorry,” Beomgyu lunges, trying to reach for his phone that had fallen under the bed. His voice is strained as he crawls, probably cleaning the dust and grime under the bed for the first time since Wooyoung started renting. “I don’t know why my alarm didn’t ring– Oh, my phone is dead.”
“That’s shitty.” Yeonjun feels like he is floating almost, like his soul has escaped his body. He can see the pearly gates in sight if he squinted hard enough, with God himself snickering at him. He has no control over the words that leave his mouth, lips trembling just the slightest bit. “Are you going to leave me lonely, just like that?”
He is joking. Maybe. The pang in his heart is all but an illusion, fueled by the cocktail of substances he was on last night. Yeah, that’s it. He is still high, nothing else.
If Beomgyu notices his inner turmoil, he doesn’t show it as he snorts. He crawls back from under the bed, dust and spiderwebs in his hand and all, and sits briefly on the bed next to Yeonjun again. His shirt isn’t buttoned properly and usually, Yeonjun would fix it for him, but his hands stay anchored to his thigh, like a child scorned.
“Look, I’ll make it up soon, okay?” Beomgyu half smiles playfully, and leans in. Halfheartedly, Yeonjun tries to reciprocate the kiss, warm and soft, but it’s over all too soon, leaving him freezing again. “I’ll text you after my date! I’m sure you can find somebody in the house to give you a hand or two.”
Beomgyu looks down towards Yeonjun’s nakedness with a wink before he is gone just like that, with a coy wave of his fingers and a tinkling laughter.
Yeonjun sits there with his back against the headboard for a few minutes maybe, in complete silence. Unseeing, he paws at the nightstand, past the box of condoms and Beomgyu’s rings that he had forgotten in his hurry, searching for his pack of cigarettes.
“A date, huh?”
The clock on his phone shows that it’s noon already, with the sun high up in the sky from where he looks out of the window, the rays nice and warm on his face. He lights up a cigarette, ignoring the way his half-hard cock sits between his legs. His ass is distinctly cold and he remembers with a dry chuckle that he is sitting exactly on the wet spot from when he had been fucking Beomgyu in his lap just 6 hours ago, but he doesn’t move yet.
His phone chimes, and he doesn’t need to look to know it’s Yeji. Or Jimin, or whoever it was that Beomgyu ripped him away from last night, with eyes set too tight for it not to be jealous just because Yeonjun was being friendly. He didn’t mind it as much as he pretended to, though, he can admit it now in the comfort of this empty room.
He unlocks his phone with a sigh.
“Why did you kiss me goodbye then?”
Then, he groans, “Damn, he took my hoodie.”
It has been a week and one day. Eight days. Hundred seventy eight hours and thirty minutes. Ten thousand seven hundred and ten minutes since Beomgyu left him alone, heartbroken and blue balled, in Wooyoung’s guest room with the promise of getting back to him.
Coincidentally, twenty minutes since Beomgyu last posted his latest photo dump, each picture artfully chosen in order to fit the carefully curated aesthetic of his account. He looked pretty, enough to make his heart clench and his dick stir to life. Alas.
Yeonjun stares mournfully at his food. There is pho today in the cafeteria —his favorite— and usually he would eat it with gusto, stealing meat from his friends’ bowls while they are looking but it’s too sour in his mouth, the meat too gummy and tasteless for him to swallow down.
His phone sits there innocently on the table, dry and useless. Maybe he should try texting Beomgyu again. He could ask him how the date went and if the mongrel from said photo dump whose name he utters with acid was the person he went on a date with.
His chopsticks cling loudly when he sets them to the side with enough strength to shake the table. Perhaps, it’s better not to entertain such thoughts, lest he undo years of therapy. “I am done,” he declares, glaring at his still-too-full bowl. His front teeth tingle as he runs his tongue over them, his incisors feeling sharper than usual.
“With what?” Soobin asks, half-concerned and half-annoyed at getting interrupted. He was in the middle of talking about how that one cute underclassman from the music department was totally making eyes at him while passing them by, but Yeonjun wasn’t listening honestly.
“With my food.”
Wooyoung snorts, taking a sip out of his coffee, “Okay? Do you have to announce it?”
“The baby is heartbroken,” Changbin giggles as he reaches for Yeonjun’s phone. Yeonjun remains motionless as Changbin hovers the phone in front of his face, unlocking it with his face ID. “You have to cut him some slack, he hasn’t been this depressed since like, kindergarten when his mom banned him from watching Doraemon.”
“That was a disaster, he was so annoying back then,” Soobin musses, leaning over Changbin’s shoulder. “Yeah, now it’s even worse, his boyfriend getting a boyfriend made him suicidal– Dude, how come you only have one dick pick in your gallery? I thought you’d have more.”
“I have class, unlike you. And he’s not my boyfriend.”
“Sure, a person with class would be totally agonizing over the love of his life posting another man and flirting with him in the comments.”
Wooyoung cackles, “You have to admit he looked really cozy in Jaehyun’s lap.” He nudges Yeonjun in the ribs, “They look good as a couple, don’t you think?”
They do. He won’t admit that out loud just yet, even if Beomguy was sporting brand new hickeys in his pictures that surely weren’t put there by Yeonjun.
Yeonjun looks away, making the mistake of eye contact with the person who has been boring holes into the side of his face since they sat down for lunch. Yeonjun has been pointedly ignoring, but Jungwoo never took no for an answer. “Fuck, he is coming.”
Soobin grin smugly, a french fry dangling from his mouth, “You mean not your boyfriend yet ?” Then, his smile falls off, “Is that Jungwoo?”
“No, it is not,” Yeonjun starts gathering his things with urgency, carelessly shoving the paper he intended to finish before his sociology lecture. He snatches the phone from Changbin’s hands, and stands up, ready to up and run. “Not if I run away first.”
Wooyoung whistles and pushes Yeonjun’s unfinished food towards himself, “Be faster before Jungwoo attacks you then. Your boyfriend will kill us if your ex gets you.”
“Not my boyfriend,” shoving his finger into Wooyoung’s face, Yeonjun hisses out before looking around frantically. “Shit, see you later.”
He doesn’t quite run, because running in the cafeteria is embarrassing when at least five of his exes are staring at him and he has a reputation to uphold here, so walks briskly, as nonchalantly as he can while avoiding eye contact with anybody. Jungwoo shouts his name, but he doesn’t turn back, keeping his head down.
One day he might make up with the only ex that did him wrong but today’s not the day.
Before he can sigh with relief, the cafeteria doors closed behind him, he bumps into somebody, because, of course, he does.
“Watch where you are going.” A voice says, suspiciously familiar and annoying. Yeonjun bristles and glares, frowning fiercely, “You watch where you are going.”
“Or what?” Jaehyun rolls his eyes.
A headache is brewing behind Yeonjun’s temple. He tries to calm down, closing his eyes. Yeonjun has never really been a hateful person, no matter how temperamental he is. He had never once gotten into a fight that he started himself and he has yet to punch anybody ever since he got into college, but Kim Jaehyun always knows how to push his buttons, like the dirty bastard he is.
Before Yeonjun can start something he can definitely finish and something that will get him suspended, as sensitive and quick to anger as he is right now, he is cut off by a sweet, confused voice and the slightest hints of honeyed lemon.
“Hyung?” Beomgyu pops out behind Jaehyun, and Yeonjun belatedly realizes they are holding hands. “What’s going on?”
Yeonjun stares and stares and stares. He is wearing his hoodie again. “Nothing.”
Beomgyu nods, not quite believing him. “Then…” He starts, looking coy and wanting and still holding Jaehyun’s hand. There is one singular hickey on his neck, right next to the fading ones Yeonjun had left there, in the shape of his teeth. ”Have you eaten yet? Want to join us?”
Jaehyun looks at him, looking like he wants nothing else but to share Beomgyu in any way. Asshole.
“I wanted to ask you anyway if you wanted to maybe—”
Yeonjun decides to choose peace.
He cuts Beomgyu harshly, “I’m good. I have to go, my lecture begins in 10 minutes.”
Beomgyu’s smile falls off his face, like a wilting flower without the warmth of the sun to keep it alive. “Oh. Alright. We can text later? I am sorry I couldn’t answer you earlier, I was busy with this one article and—”
“I know.” Yeonjun will feel guilty later. Probably. When he is not feeling as weird as he does right now. He sidesteps Jaehyun, avoiding Beomgyu’s earnest eyes without a goodbye.
It’s on a Friday, four days later, that things go shit.
He is in Soobin’s room, and trying not to cry as he tries to finish his third paper of the day due in two hours. Yeonjun is not lazy and he usually does his school work on time, but at 10 p.m on a Friday he is usually already high off his mind, doing body shots off the newest conquest of the night at a party.
Somehow, he wasn’t feeling it today, choosing instead to ruin Soobin’s night with his miserable face as he curses over Professor Jung’s barely comprehensible slides and ignores his friend’s concerned looks.
“Hyung,” Soobin starts carefully, as if talking to a wounded feral animal, afraid of setting him off, “Why didn’t you go to Taehyun’s party? He is a bit upset that you bailed on him.”
“Oh.” Yeonjun licks his lips, tasting salt from the three cups of ramen he had just devoured. He winces. “Did he text you?”
“Yeah.” Soobin stretches his back with an audible pop, and then groans. “He is worried about you, you know.”
“I know,” Yeonjun says quietly, finally setting aside his laptop. He props his legs up the wall, staring at Soobin’s Kara and an assortment of weird anime posters.
“I am worried too.”
He knows that too. Yeonjun didn’t mean to worry his friends like that. This isn’t him — he rarely gets upset like this, and over something so… stupid.
“You can talk to me,” Soobin says quietly, not looking at him as he stands up.
“It’s just…” His mouth opens and then promptly closes, at a complete loss for words. What can he say? The boy with whom he fucks sometimes and kisses sometimes and perhaps feels something akin to like sometimes (God, he sounds like he is 12), has found himself a new shiny toy and Yeonjun is upset he doesn’t have as much time for him anymore?
That Beomgyu will definitely be at Taehyun’s party and he doesn’t want to see him make out with Jaehyun? He has had enough of that; with the alarming rate of weird flirty pictures Beomgyu posts with Jaehyun, Yeonjun hasn’t been online in days — something unheard of him.
He can’t say that out loud without sounding dumb.
“You say exactly that.” Soobin remarks bluntly, then sighs. “Hyung, I think you should chill out and try to be maybe, uh…”
Yeonjun frowns petulantly. “What?”
“Be more honest with yourself. Like why on earth are you so upset over the person you fuck sometimes going on dates with somebody else? Doesn’t it sound like you have fee—”
“Feelings?” Yeonjun laughs, “Yeah, I do. I am not oblivious, man, I know that already.”
He watches his friend gape, spluttering as if this is the biggest shock that Yeonjun isn’t as completely ignorant to his feelings as his friends make him out to be. “You do? You knew ?”
“Yeah?” Yeonjun picks at the skin around his fingers, bored. “Dude, I go to therapy, my therapist knows all about it. Yoongi has been nagging me to ask out Beomgyu since, uh?” He tries to think back to the very first he brought up hesitantly Beomgyu to his therapist and almost caused his therapist a heart attack. “Like May? I don’t know.”
A beat passes.
Yeonjun’s phone chimes, for the fifth time tonight. His face remains stony, but his heart drops; he knows who it is.
“This May or last year’s May?” Soobin sounds pained, like he is prying the words out of his mouth with pliers.
“Last year.”
“Oh. Wow.” Soobin shifts on his desk chair, with a carefully blank expression. “Then why didn’t you…”
“Ask him out?” His phone chimes again. Yeonjun’s eyebrows twitch. He clears his throat. “Well, I did. Like thrice?”
“What?”
“Or was it five times? Six? I don’t know anymore,” Yeonjun starts counting on his fingers. “Okay, I asked him to the aquarium, the art museum, this one new dog cafe, then what else? Oh! I asked him out to this expensive restaurant, then to the amusement park, then—”
Soobin springs from his seat, muffling Yeonjun rough. They stare at each other in silence, Soobin hovering over him as he lays on the bed.
“Hyung, what the fuck?”
Soobin yelps when Yeonjun licks his palm, forcing it away from his face. Yeonjun gags, “Dude, when was the last time you washed your hands? Why does it taste like dick—”
“Yeonjun-hyung. You asked Beomgyu out already?”
“Yeah?”
“And you are still not together?!”
Yeonjun sits up, sick of looking at Soobin’s double chin. “Look, I don’t know either, okay?! Beomgyu is… He keeps saying no, and then he asks me out as friends,” Yeonjun quotes with his fingers, his lips wobbling, “And then, we kiss and we fuck and he still says we are friends, and I don’t understand him at all!”
“That’s… Have you asked why? This sounds insane, this doesn’t sound like Beomgyu.”
“I have.” Yeonjun ruffles his hair, frustrated. “He just says “not yet” and then laughs at me. I don’t get it either.”
Yeonjun’s phone chimes again. He really has to set it on DND. Soobin looks at him suspiciously
“If you are not together,” Soobin tries to soften but it doesn’t quite work. “Why does he get so jealous over you then? I know he made you block Jungwoo.”
“Well.” Yeonjun looks down, finding Soobin’s covers more interesting. He laughs humorlessly, “I thought we were exclusive. Apparently not. He said he wanted a serious boyfriend and it seems I am not that.”
“I am sorry, hyung. I don’t even know what to say, I—” He groans when Yeonjun’s phone starts buzzing again, seemingly for the thousandth time tonight. He takes the device in his hands before Yeonjun can stop him, “Who keeps calling and texting you? This is so annoying, why aren’t you answering— Oh.”
Yeonjun takes his phone back with a snarl. He rejects the call without hesitation, swiping away the 14 missed calls and 37 unread texts from beoms ♡ .
He can feel Soobin judging him without needing to look up.
“Hyung.”
“Don’t Hyung me with that tone, I am sensitive right now.”
“Yeonjun-hyung,” Soobin says softer. “Why are you ignoring him?”
Before his phone can start to vibrate from yet another call, Yeonjun finally sets it to silent. “Why not?”
“...Is this payback? For Beomgyu ignoring you earlier?”
He has been caught. Yeonjun pouts, feeling childish and high-strung. This conversation has taken too much from him.
“You know what?” Soobin stands up suddenly, dragging Yeonjun away from the bed. “We are going to that party. You are going to fail Professor Jung’s class anyway, it’s no use writing that shitty paper.”
“What?” Yeonjun halfheartedly tries to resist.
Soobin nods, determined. “You heard me right. You are going to go to that party, and you are either going to talk to Beomgyu or get drunk and hook up with somebody. Come on, we are going to go to your place for clothes.”
Yeonjun lets himself be dragged away. Maybe it won’t be that bad.
It is that bad. He is trying to chug down a mystery liquid that tastes like anything but tequila, when his friends ambush him. He had been careful, slipping away from Soobin through the crowd, sneaking through the shadows in case a certain someone would find him. This is his fourth cup of whatever this is supposed to be, and he isn’t quite as drunk as he would like to be.
“Dude,” Wooyoung’s hands wrap around him, making him choke down. “Where were you? Did you just get here?”
Yeonjun sighs, patting his friend’s hands, then fills his cup again. “Yeah.”
“I am so glad you came.” Wooyoung rubs his head against him, apparently already drunk out of his mind. “It has been so boring without you, Changbinnie didn’t let me go and drag you here.”
“Is that so? Cool.” He is acting like an asshole but the kitchen smells like literal shit and the loud rap music is making his head hurt. He downs another cup again.
“How come Beomgyu isn’t with you? I thought you would go to him immediately—”
Yeonjun unwraps Wooyoung’s hands, stepping aside to reach for a bottle of soju. “I haven’t seen him yet. Been busy.”
“Oh, yeah, Sannie did say he saw him sucking faces with Jaehyun.” Yeonjun ohhs and ahhs when appropriate, not quite listening to his friend. He feels drunk enough finally, enough to brave the winds and go dancing at the risk of seeing Beomgyu. “...but you know, the poll was so shocking, I never thought you’d lose, that was like crazy.”
“...What? What poll?”
Wooyoung scoffs, sitting on the counter top. “Oh, you weren’t listening, were you?” He grins smugly, before looking around to see if anybody is listening to them. “You know, the poll? For the university college paper?”
Yeonjun shakes his head.
Wooyoung boos, frowning, “You have been too out of it lately, I swear. The most desirable alpha, you silly!”
Yeonjun coughs into his hand, his cheeks flushing, “I knew that.”
“I am sure you did.” Wooyoung wiggles his eyebrows, then continues, “Well, the poll wasn’t exactly about that, it was about the ‘ alpha you’d like to be courted by the most ’ or whatever.”
“Uh-huh,” Yeonjun looks around, much to his mistake. Fuck, Beomgyu. He looks back at Wooyoung, hiding his alarm, “And, uh, who won?”
Wooyoung snorts, taking a sip from his beer, “Jaehyun, out of all people.”
Yeonjun leans back, finishing his soju. The room is starting to sway, his vision blurring enough to make him hallucinate Beomgyu walking towards them, elbowing his way through the crowd. “Jaehyun?!”
“Yeah! And you were second place too, you lost by only one vote.”
“One vote?” That is starting to really look like Beomgyu, smiling at him when their eyes meet. He needs to sit down. Wooyoung pays him no mind, oblivious as ever, “Yeah, and people are accusing the poll of being rigged because no way Jaehyun won over you—”
“Hi.”
That really is Beomgyu. Yeonjun shouldn’t have come.
“Oh, hey!” Wooyoung startles then not so sneakily looks between them, before jumping from the counter. “I think Sannie called me just now.” He blows a kiss with a wink to Yeonjun, leaving him alone despite his silent gaping. “Text me later, Yeonjunnie.”
“Hello?” Beomgyu says again, insistent, as he takes a step towards Yeonjun. “I didn’t know you were here.”
Yeonjun’s mouth is sewn shut. He nods awkwardly, “Hi. I didn’t know I’d be coming.”
“Sweet.” The smile drops off Beomgyu’s face. Yeonjun winces; he smells sharp, sour, like a lemonade with too little sugar. “Why haven’t you answered any of my texts? Or calls?” He pouts cutely, but his eyes are less than bright. “That’s not very nice of you.”
“I know, I…” He stammers, feeling the weight of the omega’s gaze bore down on him. He feels guilty for something and he doesn’t know why. “I am sorry?”
“Okay.” Beomgyu scoffs, crossing his arms. “You were supposed to come over on Wednesday too, what happened?”
“I was busy.” His temples throb again, and his words come out harsher than intended.
“With what?”
“A group project in sociology.”
“Uh-huh. Was that group project over at Yeji’s place? Or Jungwoo’s place? Or—”
Yeonjun cuts him off, “Listen, I can make it up to you, okay? I was just…”
“Busy, I got that.”
Yeonjun may not have been working on any group projects, but he knows damn well that Beomgyu was busy himself — on a lame date to Yeonjun’s favorite cafe with the guy on the couch who is staring at them and looks like he is about to shit his pants because Yeonjun may steal Beomgyu away.
“Yeah,” he nods, daring Beomgyu to start a proper fight, “Busy.”
He watches Beomgyu gulp, a slight shine to his eyes. He feels bad suddenly; he knows Beomgyu always cries during fights. Yeonjun bites his lips, feeling the urge to hug the other, “Let me make it up to you?”
Beomgyu sniffles, wiping harshly at his eyes. “Okay.”
If Yeonjun thought the rest of his night would go well, despite the pain of him falling into old habits again and again and again, well, he thought wrong.
He and Beomgyu stare at each other in silence, their bowl with popcorn fallen to the ground. Beomgyu’s favorite movie plays, but they haven’t paid attention to it in a while.
“What?” Beomgyu asks, voice faint. Then, angrier, “Hyung?!”
“I just asked a simple question!”
“A really dumb question, if I say so!”
Yeonjun gestures, his arms flailing. “I just asked who you voted for, is it that crazy?”
“Well—”
They were supposed to be good finally. They were supposed to cuddle, still feverish and joined together, the room smelling of sex as they binged whatever Beomgyu wanted and Yeonjun pretended to watch while dozing it.
Yeonjun wasn’t supposed to still feel bitter, nor to start another fight.
“Did you vote for him then?” He spits out, feeling weirdly hurt.
Beomgyu sits up and pauses the movie, wincing when Yeonjun’s knot tugs at his knot. He breathes in and out, searching for the words, “What does it matter if I did?”
“It matters to me.” Yeonjun is angry, way more than he should be over something as silly as this poll. “So you don’t think I am desirable then?”
“What, no? Where did you get that?”
“That’s the entire point of the poll then, is it not? To vote for whoever you think would be a better alpha to you?”
A gentle hand cups his face, smoothing his frown away. “Hyung…” Beomgyu says softly, “I do find you desirable, I just—”
“You don’t want me like that then?”
Silence.
Yeonjun is grateful for the darkness of the room because he doesn’t want to see the expression on Beomgyu’s face. He breathes out, stuttering. “I get it then.”
He grips Beomgyu’s hands in his, nuzzling his face into warm palms. “I get it,” he repeats.
“Get what?”
“I will make you want me.”
“What?”
“I will court you.” He tugs Beomgyu closer, willing himself to sound sure. “I am going to show you how much you should want me.”