Beomgyu and Yeonjun have been friends since childhood. Beomgyu, the son of a CEO of a luxury car company. Yeonjun, an orphan on a scholarship for their arts school. The feelings have always been there, but neither brave enough to voice them.
When Be...
Yeonjun holds Beomgyu's hand for as long as possible.
When his knees begin to sting, he reluctantly lets go and retires to his bed. He can't fall asleep. He stares at Beomgyu, the rise and fall of his chest and the steady breathing that's so contrast to the panic attack that happened just an hour before.
How could he have missed all the signs?
He remembers Beomgyu coming into class last Monday. He looked slightly disheveled. Not enough for anyone but Yeonjun to notice. Beomgyu cares quite a bit about how he looks in school—matching or surpassing every other student in terms of being put together. It was Yeonjun who taught him everything he knows about fashion. But the student ended up surpassing the master, and now his classmates look to Beomgyu for inspiration.
Beomgyu was wearing the same thing he wore last Friday. His hair was combed, but not styled to fall away from his eyes like it usually does. He smiled at Yeonjun, but he was quieter than usual throughout the rest of the day. Yeonjun attributed that to the stress of the final year—tests and graduation coming up. He never guessed that Beomgyu was standing on the precipice of something much worse.
"You missed dinner..." Yeonjun whispers.
Beomgyu turns in response to Yeonjun's voice, and Yeonjun feels guilty for disturbing the other boy's sleep.
Yeonjun tries to lie down. But since he doesn't think he could fall asleep, he spends the whole night watching his friend—fearing another panic episode. He's never seen Beomgyu in such a broken state of mind.
"Yeonjun...."
Beomgyu's voice comes out muffled, but Yeonjun recognizes this as Beomgyu's sleep talk. Back when they used to have sleepovers often, before they both turned thirteen, Yeonjun would be entertained by all the silly things his friend would say in the middle of the night. He would call for his mother, complain about vegetables, fight with an imaginary opponent in an online game.
"I miss you..." Beomgyu says, choked up with emotion—like his dreams have shifted to something dark.
Yeonjun stumbles out of his bed, finding his way toward Beomgyu in the light filtering in from the hallway and through the small window. He kneels again, ignoring the sharp pain in his knees. "I'm here," he whispers.
"Please come back," Beomgyu says, his voice breaking. Yeonjun's heart shatters upon seeing a tear well up and trickle down his friend's cheek.
"I'm here," Yeonjun whispers again.
Beomgyu mutters a few more unintelligible things, then with a louder voice like he's trying to ward someone away. "Please, tell me what changed between us."
"Nothing changed," Yeonjun says, knowing he's going unheard. But perhaps his friend's subconscious will get the message, changing the landscape of the dream.
When Yeonjun turned thirteen, he realized just how beautiful Beomgyu was. Dark hair that matched fluttering lashes, his jawline more pronounced, and his frame growing taller—more masculine. He no longer looked like the child he first met on the orphanage's playground.
So Yeonjun told himself—You have to be more careful. You don't want to ruin this friendship. No more hugs. No more holding hands to cross the street. You need to control yourself.
So he pulled back the skin ship, falling back on safe conversations and jokes that he knew wouldn't cross the line. Yeonjun was right on one thing—they remained good friends. Best friends.
But something did change. They weren't inseparable like before. Yeonjun swallowed his feelings, not wanting to complicate things, not wanting anyone to get hurt.
Beomgyu began to point out pretty girls in the classroom, and Yeonjun tried to be happy for him. After all, if one of them could be normal, that was something to celebrate. Yeonjun wouldn't get in the way of his best friend having a normal life. Even though he so desperately wanted to kiss the other boy.
Every time Beomgyu invited Yeonjun to his home, Yeonjun remembered the day when they were twelve—when he was able to hold his best friend without restraint. He longed for that day to return. But at the same time, he knew Beomgyu wouldn't want him in the same way.
At least, he thought he knew.
Hearing Beomgyu call his name like that, with such intense longing even in his sleep, Yeonjun questions everything—all of his choices to keep a safe distance. Could Yeonjun have been wrong all this time?
Yeonjun holds Beomgyu's hand for so long that the sky begins to be painted dark blue, then a radiant gold. He knows, no matter how reckless he was, he made the right choice in coming here. They'll get out of this together. Like they always do.
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