beneath your dust-piled crown | yeongyu

;chapter 8

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The streetlamps outside his window started to flicker on when Beomgyu's phone buzzed, dragging him from the depths of his university notes. It was late Saturday evening, and he was trying to catch up on everything he missed during his sick days as the mental fog from his fever finally lifted.

[ Yeonjun? ]
Are you feeling better? :)

[ Beomgyu ]
yeah, thanks

[ Yeonjun? ]
Okay so since I literally saved your life

[ Beomgyu ]
what??
it was just a fever

[ Yeonjun? ]
Basically the same thing lol
You owe me one, so let's go to this thing together

[ Beomgyu ]
what thing?

[ Yeonjun? ]
My favorite band is holding a concert tonight
I have two tickets but the other person bailed on me and I don't wanna go alone TT
So you're coming ^^

Beomgyu stared at the screen, an uncomfortable mix of conflicting feelings stirring within him. What, now I have to play the substitute? he thought, slightly irritated. But the memories of Yeonjun taking care of him were still fresh, unsettlingly warm in his mind, and the idea of a night out didn't feel as unwelcome as he expected. I mean, I could use a break from studying...

[ Beomgyu ]
sure, whatever

[ Yeonjun? ]
Perfect, I'll pick you up in 30 :D

"Thirty minutes?!" Beomgyu glanced at the pile of textbooks spread around him. He sighed, abandoning them to open his wardrobe, his mind wrestling with what to wear. After he threw multiple outfits on the bed, trying to decide what would look the best, a sudden realization washed over him. No, why do I even care?

He quickly tossed them back into the closet, before finally settling on a pair of jeans and an oversized sweater that somehow still looked too well put together. Annoyed, he ruffled his hair and grabbed his jacket, right when there was a ring at the door.

After quickly descending the stairs and stepping outside, Beomgyu stopped dead. Yeonjun was casually leaning against a sleek motorcycle, the engine idling softly. Since when does he ride a motorcycle? His heart skipped a beat — not from fear, but something dangerously similar to excitement.

"Ever ridden one?" Yeonjun grinned, seeing the surprise on Beomgyu's face, and handed him a spare helmet.

"Nope, and never planned to," Beomgyu retorted, taking the helmet with a shaky laugh. He fumbled with the strap, his fingers unwilling to cooperate.

Yeonjun stepped closer, his hands reaching up to help with his fingertips brushing lightly against Beomgyu's chin as he adjusted it. The touch sent an unwanted shiver down Beomgyu's spine, his stomach knotting with nerves not entirely due to the upcoming ride.

Once secured, Yeonjun swung a leg over the motorcycle, patting the space behind him. "Hop on, we're going to be late."

Reluctantly, Beomgyu did, his hands hovering hesitantly over Yeonjun's sides. However, as they accelerated, his loose grip turned into a tight cling around the rider's waist. The speed unnerved him, each sharp turn and gust of wind against his face pushing him to press closer to Yeonjun's back, rendering his attempt at keeping space between them unsuccessful once again.

After a ride that left him reeling for a bit too long, they finally arrived at the venue. Stepping inside, Beomgyu scanned the room, only for his eyes to get caught on a familiar figure — Taehyun, wearing a staff badge, was busy coordinating at the entrance. Their eyes met briefly, an unreadable expression crossing his face as his gaze flicked to Yeonjun and back to Beomgyu, before he nodded slightly.