LYHM | YG [✔]

29. Epilogue: Yeonjun [End]

"No," I say, glaring at the ridiculously hot guy covered in ink standing on the other side of the tattoo shop. "Find somebody else."

"Why?" Beomgyu asks, smirking when I turn my glare on him. "Please? He's really good."

"I don't care how good he is," I grit out. "I'm not gonna sit here and watch him touch you."

"It's going on my wrist, Jun, not my ass." He rolls his eyes, grabbing my hand to pull me down next to him. "Will you relax? You're making me nervous."

Dropping my ass down on the couch, I do as I'm told and keep my damn mouth shut.

Beomgyu's never been to an NBA game before, so I surprised him with Lakers tickets and brought him to LA to watch the game last night. We're flying home later tonight, but he begged me to bring him here first to see if this guy could fit us in. Apparently, he's the best artist on the West Coast or some shit, so I agreed. Now I'm wishing I'd just dragged him to the airport.

"You worried it's gonna hurt?" I ask, glancing over when I catch him playing with his ring.

He nods, then shakes his head, his gaze dropping to the list he's holding. "I'm worried it's gonna be over."

"Baby."

He looks up at me, his blue eyes filled with sadness and grief as he swallows. "I don't want her to think I've forgotten about her, Jun."

"She would never," I say firmly, tugging his chin to pull his soft lips to mine. "She knows you'll always love her, Beoms. She knows you're the only person in the world who would have done all this for her," I add, tapping the piece of paper on his lap.

Nodding, he smiles and looks at the last two things to cross off.

It's been six weeks since I told him I loved him, and we've spent that time doing as much as we possibly can together before the season ends and I start prepping for the NBA draft. I've been putting it off since my sophomore year, feeling too guilty to go for it, but after several conversations that mostly led to fights, Beomgyu finally convinced me to stop being such a pussy and go after my dream, just like Mia would have wanted me to. When I found the courage to call my mom to tell her, she burst into tears and asked if Beomgyu and I wanted to come home for dinner. I almost told her no, but agreed when Beomgyu gritted his teeth at me and smacked me upside the head. His parents were there too, which made it weird and awkward as fuck, but it's getting easier. If I didn't know better, I'd think they seem genuinely happy for us. But I do know better. They're only accepting us because they'll look bad if they don't. I don't care though. As long as they treat Beomgyu the way he deserves, I'm happy.

"Jun, look," Beomgyu says quietly, tilting his head at one of the large canvases on the wall. It's a picture of the owner of the shop, Xander Reid, and Niko Reid, a famous rock singer who died about ten years ago. "He's Niko Reid's little brother."

"That's probably why this shop is famous, Beoms," I mumble. "Not because he's good."

"Shut up," he whispers. "I showed you his work. You're just jealous."

"You're damn right."

"Yeonjun and Beomgyu," Xander calls, tipping his chin at us. "You're up."

Beomgyu stands, and I follow him to the counter, my jaw set tight as I take in Xander's appearance up close. He's a purple-haired punk with more piercings than Beomgyu and a grin that makes me want to punch him, and I'm pretty sure the fucker knows it.

"You have the design?" he asks, doing a double take at me, his brows lowering as he studies my face. "Have we met before?"

"No."