By The Window | YeonBin

twenty three

Yeonjun's phone buzzed in his pocket as he walked down the familiar, empty streets. The sun had already dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly. He pulled the phone out, barely glancing at the message before the pit in his stomach formed.

Message from Mom
Yeonjun-ah. I'm going on a company retreat for a few days. I'll be back by Friday night.

Message from Mom
Let me know if you need anything.

He stopped walking, staring at the text for a moment too long. His mind went blank except for one thought:

Alone. With him.

He hated that feeling, the tension that built up whenever his mom wasn't around. She wasn't perfect, but at least when she was home, his dad's temper was somewhat kept in check. Now, it would just be him and his father. And that could only mean one thing: trouble.

Yeonjun's grip tightened around his phone as he shoved it back into his pocket. The thought of going back home made his chest feel tight, as if the walls of his own house were closing in around him.

Instead of heading directly there, he chose the long way, weaving through streets he normally avoided. Anywhere was better than that house right now.

He walked aimlessly for what felt like hours, passing through alleyways and quiet parks. The night air was cool, but it did little to calm the storm brewing inside him. Finally, when he couldn't stall any longer, he forced himself to head home.

The house was quiet when he entered, but an eerie tension hung in the air. He hoped, foolishly, that maybe his dad had passed out already. Maybe he'd get lucky this time. But that hope shattered the moment he stepped into his room.

His father was there.

Yeonjun froze at the sight. His father was sitting on the edge of his bed, holding his sketchbook, flipping through the pages with a sneer plastered on his face. The disgust was evident, and Yeonjun's heart sank.

"What the hell is this?" his father's voice was low, thick with disdain. He lifted the book, waving it in Yeonjun's direction.

"You call this art? These are—" His eyes narrowed as he turned the pages, revealing sketch after sketch of one boy, Soobin.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Yeonjun's throat tightened. His father had never been supportive of his art, but this was different. This wasn't just about the sketches. This was about Soobin.

He hadn't come out to anyone explicitly, especially not his parents, and now his secret was laid bare in front of the person who would least understand it.

"Give that back," Yeonjun's voice was shaky as he stepped forward, trying to keep the panic at bay. He reached for the sketchbook, but his father pulled it back, eyes darkening.

"You like him, don't you?" His father's voice was laced with venom. "Is this why you've turned out like this? You think you can just... draw him? Pretend this is normal?"

Yeonjun didn't know what to say, his mind spinning too fast to find the right words. His father's face twisted in disgust, and before Yeonjun could react, his father lashed out. The blow came fast, a sharp backhand to the side of his face, sending him stumbling backward.

Pain exploded across his cheek, but it wasn't the worst part. The worst part was the burning shame that filled him, the feeling of being caught, exposed.

He heard the dull thud of his father tossing the sketchbook on the floor before he stormed out of the room, muttering curses under his breath. The door slammed shut, leaving Yeonjun alone in the suffocating silence.

Yeonjun stood there, his cheek throbbing, heart racing. His legs gave out, and he crumpled to the floor. Tears welled up in his eyes, and for a moment, all he could do was cry silently, his chest heaving as the sobs wracked his body.

He didn't even know why he was crying anymore— was it the pain? The shame? The overwhelming sense of loneliness?

But in the midst of it all, only one thought surfaced.

Soobin

He glanced toward the window. Usually, he'd wait there, hoping Soobin might appear like he always did. But tonight, something in him snapped. He couldn't stay here, not in this house.

He needed to see Soobin— needed to be near him.

Without thinking, Yeonjun climbed through the window, landing quietly in the backyard before breaking into a sprint. He didn't stop running, even when his lungs started to burn, even when the night air made his eyes sting. He ran, driven by something he couldn't explain, until he found himself in front of Soobin's house.

He slowed to a stop, his breath ragged. Soobin's house was quiet, the lights dimmed for the night. He knew he couldn't ring the bell— not at this hour.

But he couldn't bring himself to leave either. So he settled down on the pavement, just a few steps away from Soobin's house, his back pressed against the wall of a nearby building.

Yeonjun tried to hold back the sobs, his shoulders shaking as he wrapped his arms around himself. He didn't want to be here, like this— so vulnerable, so raw.

But at the same time, there was nowhere else he'd rather be. Just being near Soobin's house made him feel a little less alone.

As he tried to calm his breathing, the sound of rapid footsteps reached his ears. His heart skipped a beat, and he froze, wiping at his eyes.

Who would be out here at this time? He turned toward the sound, his body tensing as the footsteps grew louder.