warm

yeongyu- parasites

beomgyu steps onto the bus, the sharp sting of winter still clinging to his skin like a ghost that won't let go. he pauses, the world outside still whirling in snow and silence, and for a moment, his music stops too. headphones off, he settles into the seat, legs trembling with the cold that bites deeper than just flesh. he sighs, the warmth of the bus seeping into his bones, though it doesn't quite reach his heart.

"maybe it's a blessing in disguise?"

the words leave his lips soundlessly, a mere whisper of his thoughts as "reflections" plays in his ears. the song feels like it belongs to another world, a softer one, but beomgyu can't shake the cold. even inside, even surrounded by warmth, there's always something missing.

the bus halts, and a gust of icy wind rushes in as someone else boards. he tenses, hating the interruption, the cold air sneaking in again. "just when i was getting warm," he mutters under his breath, but no one hears. no one ever does.

he arrives at his dorm, the walk from the bus stop blurred by the snow that pelts him, stinging like needles. inside, the warmth greets him like an indifferent hug. he peels off his jacket, his shoes, his hat, and collapses onto the bed, headphones still on his ears, but the music feels distant now. a new song starts-saturn by sza-but it drifts through him, words unclear, melodies wrapping around his thoughts but not enough to pull him from the quiet inside.

he reaches for the drawer beside his bed, pulling out his sketchbook and a pencil. no eraser, never an eraser. his mistakes are meant to stay, to be woven into something new. something beautiful, even if it wasn't what he intended.

but somehow... somehow he never fit. in this world, at this school, in his own skin. he was a mistake, wasn't he? a thing broken beyond fixing, no matter how many times he tried to redraw the lines. life wasn't like his art.

until...

he stared at the paper, a rose taking shape beneath his trembling hand. it was delicate, blooming despite the roughness of his pencil strokes. maybe it was beautiful, maybe it wasn't. he didn't know anymore.

the song changed, drifting into mac demarco's "heart to heart".

then, a knock at the door.

to all the days we were together. to all the times we were apart.

the words felt too heavy, too familiar as beomgyu's heart stumbled over its rhythm. six p.m. who could it be? he wasn't expecting anyone. his new roommate? no, he wasn't supposed to arrive until tomorrow...

he opened the door, and his breath hitched.

a tall boy stood there, his presence commanding, yet soft. stunning.

"beomgyu?" the boy's voice was gentle, but it pierced through beomgyu like cold air.

"yeah," beomgyu mumbled, his heart pounding for reasons he didn't understand. "you must be...?"

"yeonjun. your new roommate."

"oh." beomgyu blinked. "i thought you were coming tomorrow?"

"was supposed to. came early." yeonjun's gaze lingered on him, searching for something beomgyu couldn't offer.

"okay, come in."

but beomgyu was distant, the weight of his own thoughts pulling him under. grades, perfection, the impossible standards that strangled him daily. he couldn't afford to let this new person, this beautiful stranger, distract him.

"you're very handsome," yeonjun said softly.

the words hit him like a punch, unexpected and sharp. his heart faltered.

"what? thanks." beomgyu's voice was small, his guard high.

"not much of a talker?"

"i am... just... not with people i don't know."

"right..." yeonjun's voice trailed off, a little sad, a little resigned.

an hour later, beomgyu was curled up on his bed, headphones still on, sketchbook abandoned beside him. he had fallen asleep, the weight of the day too much. yeonjun sat beside him, his eyes lingering on the boy who seemed so fragile, so lost, even in sleep.

beomgyu's side of the room was pristine, neat, almost painfully so. it didn't match the chaos yeonjun sensed beneath the surface.

"is your heart as tidy as your room?" yeonjun whispered, though he knew the answer. no one's heart was that clean.

then, a chime from beomgyu's phone. yeonjun couldn't help himself, his hand reaching out, curiosity overtaking him.

new message from 'father': "you failed another exam, don't dare show your face at my home again."

the words felt like poison, curling in yeonjun's chest, hot and angry. his fingers shook as he put the phone down, his eyes trailing to beomgyu's wrist. something dark tugged at him, something wrong.

with a breath he didn't realize he was holding, yeonjun carefully lifted the hem of beomgyu's hoodie, his heart breaking as he saw the truth etched into beomgyu's skin.

cuts. scars. both old and fresh, scattered like shattered glass across his wrist.

"oh... beomgyu, no..." yeonjun whispered, his voice barely holding together, as if speaking louder would make the fragile boy before him disappear.