beneath your dust-piled crown | yeongyu

;chapter 10

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

In the days that followed, Beomgyu's world seemed to shrink into a numbing routine of evasion. He steered clear of the rooftop, that once sacred haven of solitude now just another place where he could run into Yeonjun. Instead, he lingered in the crowded parts of campus, amidst the noise and chaos where he could feel less alone, less exposed. But Yeonjun was everywhere, a constant presence that Beomgyu couldn't seem to escape despite his efforts.

Just don't look at him. Don't even think about him.

Still, Beomgyu caught himself watching from safe distances, observing how Yeonjun continued his life unaffected, always surrounded by others, always in the middle of laughter or conversation. He doesn't care that I've been avoiding him. He probably didn't even notice, Beomgyu thought bitterly, each glimpse of him a stab to his heart.

The problem wasn't just that Yeonjun might not care — it was that Beomgyu cared about his indifference, clinging to a frail hope that maybe, just maybe, he mattered to Yeonjun. This was what frightened him the most: the part of himself that still hoped, still felt, when he knew he should shut those emotions down.

Trying to drown his fears with distraction, Beomgyu clung to Soobin more than ever, dragging him to noisy arcades, to late-night movies, anything to escape the silence that reminded him of Yeonjun. Soobin would always come, even if Beomgyu didn't miss the concerned gazes lingering on him.

When he wasn't with his best friend, music kept him sane — headphones glued to his ears, blaring tracks loud enough to mute his thoughts, or strumming his guitar until his fingers ached and his mind numbed.

As he sat in the back of the lecture hall, he kept his gaze fixed on his notebook, deliberately angled away from where Yeonjun sat surrounded by other students. He scribbled notes mechanically, each word a shallow attempt to keep his mind anchored to anything but the other male. Yet despite his avoidance, Yeonjun's laughter broke through in the middle of the lecture, sharp and clear. The sound, so lively and untroubled, seized Beomgyu's attention against his will.

Why am I so affected by that? His thoughts raced, his pen stalling on the page. He's just laughing. People laugh. But the laughter seemed to echo, reverberating inside his head — a ruthless reminder of all that Beomgyu was trying so hard to push away, all that he longed for yet couldn't, shouldn't, have.

He could feel his heartbeat quicken, the familiar edge of panic clawing its way up his throat. It's just Yeonjun. He doesn't even know what he's doing to me. He doesn't care. Shouldn't that make it easier? Why can't I just stop this?

His breathing grew shallow, each inhale sharper than the last. It was too much — the room, the noise, the constant inner chaos. Just then, a terrifying thought hit him.

What if he knew? What if he saw me like this?

Fuck no, not here, not now, he thought frantically, gathering his things with trembling hands. He couldn't let them see, couldn't let Yeonjun see, not this. He slipped out of the lecture hall, the corridors blurring around him as he made his way to the nearest bathroom, and locked himself in a stall.

Beomgyu's back hit the door with a loud thud when he pressed against it. He clutched at his chest, his fingers digging into his shirt as if able to physically hold his racing heart in place. Calm down, Beomgyu, he coached himself, recalling Soobin's soothing voice guiding him through this just a day before. Breathe, just breathe. But breathing was a struggle, each inhale a battle, each exhale a defeat.

The bathroom's fluorescent lights were too bright, too harsh, the hum of the ventilation system too loud in his ears. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to block out the world, to force away the tears that threatened to spill. Why did it feel like every time he thought he was getting a handle on things, the universe decided to, literally, laugh in his face? Maybe it wasn't familiar with the concept of getting a grip on life; or maybe it simply didn't care, because in the grand scheme of things, his attempts at control were nothing more than a drop in the ocean.