gyuofmydreams
The summer of 1985 felt like it could've lasted forever.
The heat stuck to their skin like secondhand smoke-the kind Beomgyu's father left behind on the porch swing. Radios buzzed with old rock songs, tires cracked on dusty roads, and the scent of asphalt hung thick in the air. Time moved slow in their town, like molasses.
Yeonjun hated it. Hated how everyone knew everything. Hated the way people smiled too sweet in grocery stores yet gossiped like knives. Hated how being different was something you instantly had to hide before you even understood what it meant.
But Beomgyu... he made the summer feel alive.
He was trouble wrapped in denim and sun-kissed hair, all lazy grins and scraped knees from climbing fences. His laugh was loud, shameless-the kind that turned heads. And Yeonjun couldn't stop watching him. Even when he tried.
They weren't supposed to be friends.
Yeonjun was the good son-the quiet one who kept his uniform neat. Beomgyu was the cautionary tale-wild, raised by a mom who never came home sober, or happy.
But boredom or fate or something softer pulled them together.
It started the day Beomgyu caught Yeonjun sketching him during detention. "You're either extra bored or real obsessed," he said, squinting with a grin. Yeonjun flushed red. Beomgyu just laughed. "Relax. I'd draw me too."
Something started after that.
Not quite friends, Just simply.. something.
stolen glances during church even when Yeonjun knew Beomgyu never really paid attention, that Beomgyu just spent most of his time in church rebelling secretly till he got caught, staring at yeonjun, or spacing out shamelessly.
secret meetups in abandoned train stations under the darkened skies.
hangouts at the skate park when it was a little less packed, just so they could feel free to.. be themselves, without judgment.
he knew they weren't supposed to really be associated like this with eachother at all, tho.. he found himself returning back to that area under the stairs often eitherway