The Blue Hours Passed | beomjun / yeongyu

Chapter 1: Reckoning - Yeonjun

Yeonjun twirls his pen, watching the door.

When Beomgyu doesn't come before Mr. Clements arrives and shuts the door behind him, he frowns. It's not like Beomgyu to be late to school.

He hides his phone under his desk, rapidly typing a message. Where are you? It's already homeroom.

There's no message back. That's also strange. Beomgyu is usually glued to his phone all day. One time, they were crossing the road together at Hongdae, and Beomgyu almost ran into a taxi's erratic path. Yeonjun had to grab his best friend by the arm, pulling him back. Even though it was only for a moment, he savored the line of Beomgyu's back pressed against his chest. They both breathed at the same time. Yeonjun counted the seconds where the panic and shock changed into a feeling that they both know—the undeniable effortlessness of being together.

The school day drags by, the desk next to Yeonjun's empty.

"Where's your boyfriend?" One of their friends, Mina, asks him at lunch time. The girl never really learned to develop a filter.

Yeonjun takes a large bite of his omelet fried rice, trying to distract his palate from the bitter sense of something going wrong. "Mina, Beomgyu is not my boyfriend."

She waves her spoon in the air. It catches a glint of the fluorescent lights, and he blinks in irritation. "You can't deny it forever, Yeonjun."

"I'm pretty sure Beomgyu likes you," Yeonjun says, the tips of his ears going red—from frustration or embarrassment he doesn't know.

"Why don't you find him and find out?" Mina says. She's always been stunningly pretty—dark hair, honey brown eyes, and a delicate visage—but right now the only thing Yeonjun notices is the wisdom in her measured smile. All boys are stupid, she's said before. Maybe she's right.

She is. Yeonjun finishes his lunch, sneaking through the halls, escaping out into the city. The heart of Gangnam is waiting for him. It's November, and the chill is beginning to seep into his bones. He wraps his padded jacket around him tighter, tying the scarf Beomgyu bought him for his birthday around his neck. He begins in the direction of Beomgyu's place.

His penthouse. Beomgyu is the son of the CEO of Choi Cars, a luxury vehicle brand. His mother is the daughter of a mogul in Daegu. Basically, he's been brushing his teeth with gold flecked toothpaste since the day he was born. Maybe a bit of an exaggeration, but still.

But the funny thing is, Yeonjun has never been jealous. When they first met in the playground of the orphanage, Beomgyu has always been one to share.

Yeonjun remembers the day as he walks quickly, surpassing the pace of other busy Seoulites.

"What are you doing here," Yeonjun had said, looking at the shorter boy up and down. They were both nine years old, and Beomgyu was dressed in designer overalls—LV on the buttons and pockets.

"My family is donating to this place," Beomgyu had replied. "What are you doing here?"

Yeonjun raised an eyebrow. Really?

Beomgyu realized his mistake, covering his mouth with both hands. "Oh... I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

"It's okay. What's your name, and how old are you?"

"Beomgyu. I'm nine," Beomgyu said. He adjusted his bangs so they swept away from his eyes. His cheeks were tinged slightly pink.

"I'm Yeonjun. And that's the same as me," Yeonjun says. "It's a shame. I was looking forward to you calling me hyung."

"I can still call you hyung," Beomgyu said. He stood straighter, hopeful. Maybe a bit eager to correct his blunder.

"Okay," Yeonjun said, smacking his fist into his palm. "And I'll just call you Beomgyu."