Archive of Our Own ^beta

Some of us get dipped in flat, some in satin, some in gloss… But every once in a while, you find someone who's iridescent, and when you do, nothing will ever compare.

Wendelin Van Draanen, Flipped

🌸🐯

Choi Beomgyu was five when he first learnt what soulmates meant.

He was in kindergarten, and there were grey circles in his book. They were called red, yellow, and blue; they all looked identical to him.

By recess, while all the other kids played, Beomgyu sat in front of his teacher's desk, learning all the things he could not understand. His teacher was patient, and kind, and she wore a pretty ring on her finger that glinted against the sunlight. Is that what a soulmate means? Eomma and appa have rings, too. He looked at the book before him again.

But they all look the same, seonseng-nim.

It's because you haven't met your soulmate yet, Beomgyu.

Why do I have a soulmate?

Because you're meant to have someone to always be with you.

But what if they don't like me?

They will love you no matter what, my dear. That is what a soulmate means. A friend or a lover, or family, who will always be with you when you're happy, or sad.

Beomgyu remembered staring at his teacher's words, a seed of doubt lodging itself deep into his chest.

Soulmate. I have a soulmate too?

When you learn a new word, you begin to see it everywhere - he sees them in his parents, who rarely fought or bickered, always happier when they are together. He sees them in his peers - his schoolmates holding fake weddings with flower rings in their hands, kiddish grins and stuffed animals as witnesses. He sees them everywhere.

For a boy who bore so many ugly names, for a boy who is more than acquainted with looking at the world on a lone stone bench - it almost seemed outlandish to think it would be possible for him.

The day it really sank in that he will have that someone, though, the seed sprouts out with fragile hope, nurtured with the fact that someday, sometime in the future, it will blossom at the sight of spring.

For years he had attempted to picture that fated encounter, and it went a little like this - He will find that someone someplace pretty, and they will look at each other, and discover every colour together - he hears the sky has many faces, he reads that autumn makes the whole world feel warm, he learns that the walking man on traffic lights is actually green; he knows the tomatoes he so despises are red. He wants to see it all with them, cross each observation like proof to his hypothetical hypothesis - that he is perfectly destined for someone, too.

So Beomgyu waits through elementary school, middle school, highschool, and then comes the first day of university, where Soobin so nicely taps on his shoulder, and tells him this:

“I think today's the day you’ll meet your soulmate.”

And because Beomgyu knows Soobin well, he starts to sulk.

‘Your predictions are shit, hyung,’ he signs to him.

And Soobin does not remember the sign language for predictions, but you are shit worked just fine, because he fakes a horrendously offended gasp and rambles on about the laws of attraction and something else - Beomgyu looks away and pretends he does not see.

They walk until they have to go their separate ways. Soobin gives him a pat on his back for good luck, Beomgyu shakes it all away, and he watches as Soobin disappears into the bakery department, until his towering figure becomes something he can cover with a straightened thumb.

He will meet his soulmate today.

So much for dreaming, right?

🌸🐯

Well, it turns out Soobin is actually spot on.

The walk from the culinary building to his takes five minutes - in different places, in a whole new campus, and that does not include the time Beomgyu needs to look for his classroom. The hearing aids in his ears pick up an indistinct amalgamate of sounds - chatter, mostly, but also calls and screams and, as he walks further, the screech of a violin. The sound of music beats sharper and quicker and louder. Students in practice rooms practising pianos, cellos, percussions, dance-

Colours?

His whole body physically stops, eyes locked onto a figure - a flurry of colours, spinning.

There's the bright of his hair, the dark of his piercing face, the spill of colours across his plaid shirt, dancing along to every line of movement like dandelions to the breeze, or phantom hands weaving silk with every single step. Like a forest fire, wild and brilliant, contained within the tiny window of his view before it escapes and paints the rest of his monotonous world alive - spreading and burning until everything Beomgyu sees - the floor, the walls, the windows and the sky - are all distinctly its own hue.

Those are colours. Colours, as in something one can only see when they meet their soulmate. Which means-

Oh.

He feels his heart grasping at his ribs, leaping fervently for his throat. Feels the tips of his ears burning and his fingers turning cold. The floor beneath him swaying there to there, like gravity is a switch constantly flipped on and off, like losing balance. Awe, unabridged and overwhelming.

He has found him. That irreplaceable, cosmically destined him. His soulmate.

It is spring when Beomgyu sees colours for the very first time, and it is all to the boy who is dancing, who is quite frankly wearing more colours than Beomgyu has thought existed; Beomgyu has never seen a rainbow, but if he has to picture it, he will picture it with all the colours the boy is sporting right in front of him, bright and brilliant and spinning.

The forest fire spreads and latches onto every crook of his mind: soulmate, soulmate, soulmate; this is the person he is to have for the rest of his life with.

But - his mind quickly shouts, like a whiplash or a sudden storm-

His soulmate isn't looking back.

He isn’t looking back. He just keeps dancing, the mirrors reflecting only him. Like that is the only thing he is born to do.

Why isn’t he looking at him?

His phone buzzes, bringing a spring to Beomgyu's shoulders - shit.

His class begins in five minutes. Where is it? Where is he?

He chokes on his breath, head whipping left to right for any sign or a map - rushing students, crowded corridors. Chatter, chatter, chatter, an announcement he can’t hear, silhouettes of strangers and messy footsteps, imaginary clocks ticking in his ears, seconds beating as hard as the beat of the music behind him. Fuck, he thinks, what do I do?

Of all the times he’s thought of meeting his soulmate, of every possibility his mind has managed to conjure up so far - this is absolutely unprecedented, and terrible, in the most confusing way possible.

Another buzz. Three minutes. Soobin asks if he’s found his classroom. His throat goes dry.

He rushes away, further and further, and it is only halfway to his class he remembers that he doesn't even know what his soulmate looks like.

🌸🐯

His fingers are clutching painfully to the caps of his knees, heaving mouthfuls of air. Eight minutes. It took him eight minutes and a map to find the classroom, with how numbers and letters seem to not make sense in this place. He leans against the wall, hand against his humming, thumping heart. Everything is dizzying, but he is already five minutes late.

He pulls the heavy door open, cold hands meeting even colder metal.

A few people turn to bat their eyes at him, and he shrinks, hurrying to take a seat at the very unoccupied front of the room, garnering even more curious glances. His professor passes him a piece of paper, he gives her a meek apology.

"Oh, so you can speak pretty well," She comments. Beomgyu suspects she is talking louder than usual, feeling eyes looming behind his back. He thins his lips to a difficult smile. "This is the syllabus sheet. -when you have the time. This is a smaller -group assignments. You’ll -split into teams. So we'll just be doing a round of introductions alright?"

Beomgyu agrees without fully understanding - the only thing he's focused on keeping up is his breathing, really - and as soon as the introductions begin, from back to front in their small class of thirty, thankfully, he reaches for his phone to find the first person - the only pinned person - on Kakaotalk.

HYUNG :

I MET MY SOULMATE :

Relief crashes onto him like a wave when he sees the green dot hovering above Soobin's bunny profile frame, followed by messages popping in quick succession.

Soobinnie

: WHAT

: WHO?

: WHEN?

: I Called It???

i think he's a dance student he was in a practice room :

something weird happened hyung :

idk what's wrong but he didn't react to it at all :

like I saw colours but he never did or something :

is that a thing? :

Soobinnie:

: Dance student? You didn't get his name?

i had to run for class and I’m still late :

and i was freaking out!! how was i supposed to go up to him?? how's he going to react to me?? :

Soobinnie

: He's your SOULMATE???

: Did he not notice you? What's he wearing?

: Oh right

: Now that you see colours

: How is it so far btw? Have you searched up the colour chart yet?

he's wearing some colourful plaid shirt. he has bright hair too :

really red hair I think :

and wdym how is it?!?! I don’t know?? is the soulmate thing normal? :

and no. i’m in class hyung :

Soobinnie

: Red hair?

: Oh shit??

: Beomgyu

: I think you’re talking about Choi Yeonjun?

: He’s one of the people Hueningie invited for our lunch later.

His fingers grow cold. Then his heart comes to a standstill, holding a lungful of air.

Ellipses dance bubbly at the bottom corner of his screen. Typing. Typing…

Beomgyu feels something leaping in his throat - what is Soobin typing? Why is it taking so long? He feels like holding onto something; his sleeve, the hem of his shirt, someone else's hand or maybe just hide in some empty room and pray no one can find him while he tries to throw all his feelings to some corner of his brain or crawl under a rock-

"Choi Beomgyu?"

He jolts towards the sound of his name. The professor looks at him with something in her eyes. He swallows, hoping that will wash away his nerves, too. Hoping the words that come out of his mouth aren't tainted by them. Hoping he remembers the introduction he had written in his head since seven days ago, on the train from Daegu to Seoul.

Calm down, Beomgyu. You have to calm down. You'll do it, you'll have to do it and it'll be over just like that. It's just burning a bridge. Wait. Are you supposed to cross it or-?

His shaking fingers reach towards him, dragging along a struggling breath as he bites the inside of his cheeks, until it stings enough for his fingers to still.

"Myh nem-" He begins, not sure whether to go slow or fast or if he's clear enough, or the tone of his voice at all, "-Myh name is Choi Beomgi-yu."

Eyes turn to him in rapid curiosity from all across the room. He looks elsewhere - an empty desk, a bottle, some student's electric neon bag.

His name is Choi Beomgyu. He is twenty years old. He is from Daegu. He is deaf, but he can understand them through his hearing aids. He'll prefer it if they write to him. He hopes they will work well together this year.

Then he looks up towards the class before him, seemingly bigger than before, stretching endlessly still. All the eyes focused solely on him; all of them filled with confusion, some with sympathy and some with disbelief - if he looks long enough he can see the question in their eyes: why is he here? Or rather, how is he here? A deaf person as a Japanese major?

The eyes parallel those he had seen on his first day of school three years ago. And another three years before that. They have always been there, and Beomgyu bites the inside of his cheek, wills himself to smile, bows politely, and takes his seat in a quiet haste before the professor decides to get on with the introductions . She passes them a list of foreign literary works recommended for the course, along with a Bingo sheet, each slot a trait ready to be crossed off. An icebreaker, she explains, before they are split into groups by the next class.

The ellipses have stopped their little dance, leaving behind five messages.

Soobinnie

: Should I tell him about you?

: Gyu? Is that fine? Are you busy?

: Good luck in class, we'll walk to lunch together. You have another class right? At the lecture hall? I’ll look for you

: We'll figure it out together, Gyu-yah. Don't worry

🌸🐯

"Calm down, Gyu. You'll be okay."

They are walking towards some local café, Soobin having voluntarily waited for him outside of his lecture hall with a worry-ridden face. They are currently under rows of cherry blossom trees, framing the streets a blushing pink. Beomgyu takes it all in - the flowers, the falling petals, their scent even sweeter now that their colours have shown - and decides he finds pink the prettiest.

Considering the strange and unfortunate circumstances of his meeting with his soulmate, he is surprisingly adjusting really well to everything. Well, he hasn't a clue on what's going on with his soulmate, and that has been causing knots to spiral, tangle, and form in his head, but the colours are settling well into his eyes.

It's as if they've always been there, funny enough.

Though, he had to memorise their names and shades just minutes ago. Soobin had Googled a colour chart for him. It came with a congratulatory message too. How thoughtful.

Beomgyu looks at Soobin, his hands raised in front of him.

‘I am calm,’ he tells him, pointing both of his thumbs towards his chest, moving them front and back. ‘I'm just scared.’

He only realises the irony of his words after he had signed it. Maybe he isn’t calm, after all. He thinks he shouldn’t be. Should he?

You know what? Maybe meeting his soulmate again so soon is a good thing. It has to be.

Soobin’s hand reaches for his shoulder. He jumps, and that alone tells Soobin everything he needs to know. He raises his hands to sign with Beomgyu, his words a little slower and less skillful than that of Beomgyu's, but understandable nonetheless.

"You have nothing to be scared about," he tells him. "Yeonjun is great. Kinda a lot sometimes, but he's one of the sweetest people I've met. Maybe he just hasn't gotten a good look at you," he smiles, eyes curved and his cheeks revealing his deep dimples. One of his arm finds its way around Beomgyu's shoulders-

“Ah, but I can't believe our Beomie is all grown up-”

Beomgyu deadpans. ‘What are you, hyung, my mom?’

“Aigoo, I can’t care about my little baby Beomgyu now?” Soobin teases, barely dodging a punch aimed at his shoulder, his voice a whole octave higher as he cries, almost theatrically, “Yah, he’s even getting violent with age!”

“Hyung!” Beomgyu laughs. Soobin yelps when Beomgyu finally lands one hard smark onto his back, gathering odd looks all over the place. "Yah, yah, stop it! We're here already! Huening-ahhh-"

Beomgyu spares Soobin for just a moment to see Kai standing right at the entrance, attempting to hold his laughter. His hair is dyed chocolate brown and his hoodie all soft and baby blue and - oh, Beomgyu glances towards Soobin's sweater - are they matching? How long have they been doing that?

"Hueningieee, see! Beomgyu is bullying me!" Soobin whines, each syllabi dragging like a child in a rotten tantrum. Kai finally laughs, and Beomgyu catches the way Soobin looks at him, all enthralled and fond and lovely with crescent eyes and his cheeks a new shade of red. The Hueningie Phenomenon, Soobin had called it. Beomgyu thought he was maybe being a bit too dramatic, but now - seeing Kai tease him even further, rubbing his stomach and calling him adorable - he wonders if he will ever have something as wonderful as this; someone who will love him for who he is, regardless of the things in his ears or the ways of his speech. Something like destined lovers or kindred spirits.

Because soulmates are like that, right? They fathom each other like that. Like their souls have never been split but one and their limbs have just been spending all their lives finding one another. He has seen proof of such fantastical things; it is all he's been surrounded with. Is it so bad to wish he will have the same?

He thinks of the boy in the dance studio. A thought crawls its way to the forefront of his mind, then and again: what if something goes wrong?

Kai waves for his attention. He is sitting next to him in a booth, tucked away at the corner of the lively cafe - oh, they had already gotten a table. Huh. Since when?

Beomgyu pulls out a large notebook from his bag, a cute bear pen already strapped to the side. He flips to the last conversation he had with Kai - three days ago, something about Pokémons and moving in - and Kai scoots closer, reading whatever he's writing. He perks up and points at the counter, and Beomgyu sees Soobin's head poking out amongst the queue.

"He went to get us some cakes and order for us first. He told me he- oh! Yeonjun-hyung!" He beams, waving his hand so excitedly; as if he wasn't tall enough to be spotted at first glance. Soobin shoots his head to the entrance, and Beomgyu's mouth immediately goes dry.

Wow. Okay.

If he thinks Kai and Soobin stick out like sore thumbs, he must be mistaken. Or perhaps he will have to rearrange the rankings. Maybe Yeonjun deserves his own ranking system altogether. He's clad in all neutrals and darks, so different from the rainbow that he was this morning, but still, his red hair is unmistakably-

Again, have you ever seen a forest fire? The way it dances, how it tells the world of its presence - so quickly eating away the trees and burning brighter and brighter. And just when you think the fire can't possibly get any bigger, it does. He feels a little like that. It is simply impossible to be distracted from a fire. Maybe it's just because he's his soulmate. Either way, his presence is burning into every bit of Beomgyu's mind, and it occurs to him he hasn’t gotten a good look of his face until now -his eyes are dark and soul-piercingly sharp, as if he is yearning to conquer the world; almost scarily so, with how his lips are downturned. Beomgyu's eyes are all stuck on him, and he’s forgotten to breathe all over again - how is he supposed to approach him, to talk to him? How in the world is he destined to be with someone so… out there?

What if he says something and Yeonjun decides that he wants nothing to do with him? That's irrational, he knows it is. But it might happen, who knows, with how Beomgyu's luck works? Luck and fate are sort of interwoven together, right?

His fingers circle on the surface of their cushioned seat, grasping on its leathery texture, the smell of coffee and tea, the chatter and all the background noise he has never managed to learn to filter out. Chatter and clatter of forks and knives and spoons against plates and the buzz on Kai's phone. It is still so much, till this day. He has never been well in louder places. His hearing aids are itching to be taken off.

The shorter of the two - Taehyun, Beomgyu guesses - spots Soobin coming over to their table and pulls Yeonjun by his sleeve, dragging him over to their table as if he weighs nothing at all.

Kai taps on Beomgyu's fidgeting hand.

"Hyung, these are the two people Soobin and I told you about last night," He gestures to the two, now scooting into the opposite side's seat with friendly smiles. Beomgyu can only smile back in return, and give a small hello which he hopes is audible enough.

Fortunately, it is. And Yeonjun is looking at him intently, and Beomgyu's heart comes to an abrupt halt-

It halted for a moment which never came to be. Because Yeonjun isn't gasping, isn't pulling back, not even a bit in shock. His friendly smile remains.

"Oh, you're Soobin's highschool friend, right? What's your name?"

Beomgyu lets out a sound he cannot distinguish. But the way Yeonjun looks at him (knitted brows, pouty lips, confusion) speaks volumes.

“Uh..” Yeonjun murmurs, “sorry. Was I too fast? What’s your name?”

Huh.

Soobin looks at Yeonjun wide-eyed, his cheeks puffy from the big spoonful of berry parfait. Said spoon shakes from his loosened grip, landing perfectly back onto the cup, and Soobin chews in slow motion as he looks at Beomgyu, flabbergasted; it would have been funny if not for what is actually going on now - what with the lack of a certain epiphanous response and all. He's not sure if his heart is brimming or collapsing. Either way, he feels like digging himself a hole. And die.

"Choi Bomgyu.”

Yeonjun's brows furrow as he inches closer-

"Sorry, Bomgyu is it? Like spring?" He asks. "Or is it like the tiger?"

"Tiger," Beomgyu says, louder this time.

"Ah, I see," Yeonjun smiles warmly. "Choi Beomgyu."

"It's a cute name, Beomgyu. It really fits you," His laughter spreads the warmth simmering on the tips of Beomgyu's already red ears to the planes of his cheeks. "My surname is Choi as well. Choi Yeonjun. I'm in my third year of dance."

Beomgyu tells them he is in the liberal arts department, a Japanese language major, to which Yeonjun gives a look of slight surprise.

"I'm Kang Taehyun, first year in the engineering department," Taehyun tells him carefully. “Kai and Soobin told us you’re deaf, so you can tell us when you need us to repeat something, yeah?”

“-ank yew,”

Taehyun shrugs and smiles, his hand gestures towards the notebook in front of them, "What's this book for?"

"W-iting," Beomgyu says. He flips to a brand new page, and clicks his pen open. Yeonjun and Taehyun look closely with interest.

You might not understand me when I talk sometimes, so I prefer writing or typing them down.

"-right? Kai had mentioned it."

Beomgyu tilts his head. "Sorry?"

"You also read lips, right?" Taehyun repeats.

Beomgyu nods quickly, writing on his page of the book: I can only do it properly when I have my hearing aids on. I can't understand much without them.

"That's so cool," Yeonjun chimes in. "You can read what other people are talking about even if they're across the room?"

If I can see their faces, yes.

"How did you learn that?"

I had to learn it to understand people easier, so I got used to it. My eyes get tired after a while though.

"-an imagine," He comments. "Will writing to you be easier for your eyes?"

Beomgyu turns towards Soobin and Kai and the big menu in their hands, eyes wide and mouth ajar, and the older shows him a kind, knowing smile, as if urging him to go on.

Once I get familiar with your voices, talking won't be a problem, he tells them. I can hear better when I've gotten to know your voices well. But I'm happy if we write too. He manages a small, uncertain grin, I hope that’s okay.

Yeonjun furrows his brows. “Of course it’s okay. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Amidst the confusion, Beomgyu feels a small feather of relief. He looks at Yeonjun for a few seconds more. Nothing happens. He bites his lip and looks elsewhere. To Soobin and Kai, and Taehyun, talking about something Beomgyu cannot understand.

"Oh, Soobin-sunbae, Huening-ssi," Taehyun starts, his manner polite but curious. Soobin sits up straight. Taehyun asks him a question Beomgyu could not hear, but instead of asking, he waits for Soobin's response instead; sometimes, context is all that's needed.

"Oh, Yeonjun-hyung never told you?"

Yeonjun shakes his head, eyes keen on the drinks menu. Soobin continues, draping an arm around Kai dotingly. Taehyun's eyes seem to widen in realisation. Ah.

"It's funny you mention it now. Kai's my soulmate, actually. We met last semester."

"I met Soobin-hyung when I first came here last September," Kai adds.

"Yeonjun told me about you before, we're the same age, aren't we?" Taehyun guesses. The other nods. "Did you skip a grade too?"

Beomgyu notices Soobin smiling.

"Oh, no," Kai waves off with a laugh, "I didn't study in a Korean school, and we graduate much earlier there."

"What about you, Taehyun-ssi?" It's Soobin's turn to ask, "Do you have a soulmate?"

"No," Taehyun answers. "I'm actually surprised. Out of the five of us here there's only me without a soulmate. Isn't the ratio like, almost one to one?" Taehyun looks at Beomgyu, "Oh, Beomgyu-ssi, have you met yours yet?"

"Yeah," He glances towards Yeonjun, before noticing the waiter heading their way, with the food Soobin had ordered for them. But I think mine is broken.

Wait. Shit. Why did I tell them I have a soulmate?

A waiter comes to their table. He takes his notebook away to give space for the large pizza.

Then a heavy thought plops itself right into his chest, right as he feels the thud on their table as a heavy plate meets its surface; a thought looming and settling, as if it has always been welcomed there - what if he is the one who's actually broken?

"-this, actually," Yeonjun begins unexpectedly.

"Oh," Kai blinks, perplexed, "isn't that.. no, actually. I've never heard of something like that happening, hyung."

Beomgyu feels his stomach dropping as he turns to look at him. Yeonjun looks perplexed, before it dawned on him why Beomgyu had stared in the first place.

“I said I thought I saw colours today,” He repeats. “It lasted only a second or so, though. I don’t know what it means.”

A second or so, Beomgyu tries to think. What does that even mean?

He briefly hears Soobin asking the oldest a question.

"What do I think?" Yeonjun points at himself. He leans his back against the seat, his lips forming the tiniest pout; eyes squinting as if, if he looks hard enough, some divinity will serve him the answer straight to their table. He thinks, long and hard, until Beomgyu can actually see the gears working together in his head-

"I don’t know. Maybe I don't have a soulmate? Maybe dancing is my soulmate?" Yeonjun’s eyes widen, “What if my soulmate died as soon as I-”

Soobin chokes on air.

"What?" Taehyun's eyes look even bigger bugged out like that, his jaw left hanging as he stares at Yeonjun.

"Maybe-"

Maybe what?

A toddler's cries pierce through the layers of sound, creating a loud, loud ring in his ears, and Yeonjun's words become muddled and absolutely indecipherable. Beomgyu picks on his food with a headache.The rest of lunch runs away, and before he knows it, they are exchanging casual and happy goodbyes and contacts and Beomgyu is left with a pocketful of colours for himself.

Soobin’s hand rests on his shoulder. He then signs fluidly, eyes full of worry.

‘Beomgyu-yah, let’s go home.’

🌸🐯

Have you ever wished that the world would just disappear for a while? Because everything is just too much?

Beomgyu remembers the very first time he could hear - he was six, young, and absolutely clueless on why his whole family had been so excited for him. 'You can hear soon, Cookey,' his mother signed to him one day, her smile wide and her fingers quick with jittery excitement. He did not know what that meant. He could not fathom the thought of it; hearing was simply an ability he was not born with. He never understood how other people could do it; he just knew he never could.

Two months later he sat in a small, secluded room, his parents looking at him already with tears on their faces as someone strapped two weird machines to his ears, asked him if it was comfortable, if he could tell them if it's working-

He could hear for the very first time, and he screamed, and thrashed, and cried, his tiny hands grabbing the even tinier contraptions in his ears and throwing them elsewhere.

He would continue to do it for months, absolutely avoidant of even the tiniest bit of sounds. They were everywhere, and so very loud, and it made him feel so small. He never knew snoring was a sound - he had thought his brother to be sick, or dying, or turning into a pig like the movie he had seen, and he cried again because he didn't want his brother to become a pork cutlet. Crying was a sound, too. Now he knew why his brother would tell him to be quiet whenever he did; why his parents would always find him when he was. The hiccups, sobs, and everything else, all amplified and bouncing in his ears, and he held his breath until his cheeks were all red and puffy; he hadn't known how to stop it otherwise, then.

Beomgyu remembers his parents holding him, taking the hearing aids away so patiently, and then he felt normal again. When he closed his eyes, the world would be gone except for the feeling of his mother's hair, her floral perfume; the texture of his father's clothes; the roughness of his stubble. The feeling of his own heart beating without the sound of it creeping like a ghost.

🌸🐯

The moment Soobin and him leave the threshold of the cafe, he plucks his hearing aids out of his ears. The ringing persists, although thankfully duller.

He squeezes his eyes shut, opening to see a flurry of fiery clouds.

It is close to twilight and the sky is a horrific, violent orange. He wished he could shut his eyes, too. But they were walking along a crowding street, so he looked at the grey pavement, his white sneakers - things that have always been. He holds onto Soobin's wrist, wrapping his fingers around the knitted sweater limply, and lets him bring them back to their apartment.

The grey pavement morphs into spotted linoleum, carpet, and then they stop, Soobin wiggles the key out of his pocket, and then he sees yellow wooden floors, and he goes into his room, still half empty with boxes and bags of things yet to be opened.

He hides beneath his covers, and pulls out his phone (and he is trying his best to not cry or panic or anything, because he has had enough of those for one day). He goes to Naver and Weverse and whatever website that can offer him an answer, scrolling before he feels a big dip on his mattress, and a hand prying the covers away. Soobin holds up his phone, to the memo he had specifically made for them.

That's not good for your eyes, Gyu.

Beomgyu sniffles, bringing his sleeve up to his eyes to wipe the - oh, wait, has he been crying?

If Soobin sees the tears, he does not comment on it; Beomgyu thanks him wordlessly.

He finds a space in his bed to sit, typing wordlessly into his phone before showing it to him, the screen garish in the dim and grim of his room - Have you been looking it up?

Beomgyu nods, and he passes his phone to Soobin, who takes it and reads the page he was just reading. He taps on his thigh for his attention.

‘It's a 1 in 10,000 chance, hyung,’ he signs. ‘Only a 1 in 10,000 chance two soulmates don't get their colours at the same time.’

He sees Soobin looking at him, then back at the webpage, then he returns his phone back to him - one of the paragraphs highlighted.

Some soulmates will not receive colours at the same time, but instead spontaneously throughout their times spent together or, in most cases, when the soulmate who is late in getting their colours arrives at a vital part of their relationship - this is impossible to be studied, but most surveys have shown that those "vital moments" depend on the individual set of soulmates, and, usually, their desires in that relationship. Studies have also found that more than a quarter of these epiphanies happen at random.

Soobin slides his phone towards Beomgyu - Do you wanna tell him?

The younger boy shakes his head, defeated.

‘I already screwed it up when I told them I have a soulmate. What am I supposed to tell him… hey, I'm your soulmate even though you haven't seen colours yet? You gotta believe me? I don't think he will… I don’t even know if he will be happy…’

Soobin frowns.

He stares quietly at the screen again, before typing the words he wants to say, and sliding his phone back to Beomgyu.

Then, what do you desire in a soulmate?

Beomgyu untangles the arms wrapped around his knees, staring soundlessly at the sentence, rereading it over and over again - what does he desire?

He wants something like what his parents have. But that is not a good answer, not really, and the good answer is miles away from being a legible anything. Actually, no. Beomgyu just thinks it's embarrassing - at least he thinks it is. A part of him thinks it's too fantastical. One of those too-romantic things his silly head has conjured up that will never happen to him.

it's embarrassing, he writes.

Soobin thins his lips when he reads it, slipping the phone back to him once again, with a new line of words.

Things like these can never be embarrassing, he says.

Beomgyu types reluctantly.

i just really want my soulmate to love me for who i am, maybe.

Soobin scans over the words with a troubled look on his face.

He taps on Soobin's shoulder, his fingers spelling Yeonjun's name for the very first time- 'Does this mean Yeonjun-sunbae hates me?'

He sees Soobin shakes his head with such certainty Beomgyu feels that worry quell inside of him just a little. He leans in, watching as Soobin strings his words on the screen, the brightness illuminating his round, chubby cheeks.

He won't Gyu. Trust me.

Yeonjun’s one of the nicest people I know.

I think maybe the two of you are just not close enough yet.

He is your soulmate, remember?

For Beomgyu to be soulmates with a boy who reminds him of a forest fire, unapproachable simply by virtue of how confidently and vibrantly he carries himself, how everyone just seems to gravitate towards him... How can Beomgyu ever be enough to match someone like him?

He ducks his head down, meeting the harsh light coming from the phone.

i know.

i just wish it didn't have to be like this.

why does it have to be me?

i'm scared, hyung.

It’s okay, Beomgyu-yah.

Sometimes it's just like that. But you're not alone, you'll always have me and Kai, right? Taehyun is very nice too. We'll all wait for the day Yeonjun gets his colours. Then, we can all call him an idiot for taking so long.

and what if he doesn't?

Don't even think about it because it won't happen.

It's just a matter of time.

Beomgyu lifts his glazed over gaze to Soobin, still sitting so patiently next to him. Then, shifting for comfort, he stretches out his arms and Soobin lets him envelope himself into him, patting his back gently as Beomgyu feels a vibration travelling through Soobin's neck, his jaw - he's humming a lullaby, Beomgyu guesses, because it goes so slow and gentle, like how a boat would sway when the waves are calm and low, and Beomgyu feels the sourness in his chest unfurl into something much milder.

He closes his eyes and feels the softness of his blanket. The one that he has been holding since he was a child, far too small to cover him now. Then, when he feels good enough to open his eyes again, they read up every article on the first and second page of the search engine, finding each one to basically be a copy of the other. Soobin suggests they set up the joystick Beomgyu had brought with him, and they speedrun a random Mario game.

Later that night, when Soobin is asleep, Beomgyu crawls out of his own bed and reaches for his phone, searching for all the stories of people who were a part of that 1 in 10,000. He scrolls through each one, some frustrating and some just downright ridiculous or sweet, all with happy endings in the end. He quietly wishes the same for himself, too.

At some point though, he falls asleep and wakes up just in time to Soobin leaving for his morning lesson, and he savours his first golden hour like an artist to his muse. He stretches his hand to bathe his fingers in aureate, pulls the blinds open to spill fresh sunlight all over his bed, and takes pictures of them - the sun, the sky, the gold painted on his white shirt and his skin - before it is all over and he gets ready for his day.

And thus the waiting game officially begins.

🌸🐯

Owes 6000 won

: Bin-ah

? :

Owes 6000 won

: Did I make Beomgyu upset yesterday?

?? :

Why'd you ask, Yeonjun-hyung? :

Owes 6000 won

: He was so quiet halfway through lunch. Was he okay?

He is, hyung. You don't need to worry. :

Beomgyu is just shy. :

But also the café was loud. He probably had trouble hearing all of us, but you should ask him about that. :

I think he'll warm up to you and Taehyunnie soon. :

When he does, he'll be the last thing from quiet. :

Owes 6000 won

: Seriously?

Trust me. I know. Just talk to him more. :

🌸🐯

Against Beomgyu's expectations, life goes on with teasingly remarkable normalcy.

Everyday he goes to class, and for the most part, the whispers or curiosities he has aroused from his classmates and professors have died down to simple dismissals (although just today he's had someone come up to him to ask if he can read) (While they were in Introductions to Contemporary Eastern Asian Literature, mind he adds), which is always a relief.

The first week is always the toughest, but the upside of that is that it is gradually getting less scary to step foot into class as the second week rolls in, and the cherry blossom trees outside flowers through the peak of their blooming, revealing peeks of leaves they have curtained away all this while.

Within a week's time he has also gotten to know a few other friends too - there is Hyunjin, an English student who had so shyly come up and asked if he could practise signing with him. There is also Lia, a lively, bubbly girl he met in communications class. All in all, it was a little less overwhelming than Beomgyu had feared it would be; his mother looked so happy when he told her that. It brought a smile to Beomgyu's lips.

He didn’t mention Yeonjun, though.

But if he was to speak of the devil - Yeonjun keeps appearing in his life as if he has always been there. A characteristic of a soulmate, Beomgyu guesses, which Soobin later confirms with a simple nod.

He appears during their weekly hangouts and dinners, and he was there that one time when him and Soobin could not for the life of them figure out how to build his new bookshelf, and all of that has resulted in too much of hope and too much of disappointment (Yeonjun, not the bookshelf. The bookshelf is alright). Everytime he sees Yeonjun he thinks of colours, and then he thinks of how Yeonjun is still blind to them, and then he's left wondering what's that one vital thing. The one thing so many 1 in 10000s have so effortlessly found.

Then the day ends and Yeonjun waves them goodbye and leaves the same as he'd arrived.

Soobin pats his back and tells him it'll happen someday.

He reads the stories again until he eventually falls asleep.

It doesn't help that he sees Yeonjun around the campus all the time - what are the chances of that, really? The campus is so big it has literal traffic lights. In fact, it amuses Beomgyu that their now semi-established group of five are all scattered within different departments and buildings within their very large campus - Yeonjun in performance arts, Soobin in culinary, Beomgyu in liberal arts, Taehyun in engineering, and Kai in veterinary, which is a whole separate campus streets away… Soobin had told him the other day that if he traced all five of their departments together, it would resemble a star; Beomgyu had tried it out of boredom, and it resulted in a horribly uneven star with one abnormally long point, courtesy of Kai.

"It's like we're forming a cult," Soobin told him.

His last class for the day is Introduction to Astronomy, one of the two electives he has chosen for the year. It is only fitting that it is held in the evening, where the campus dulls and becomes lazier and students are tired and willing for school to end, in the cusp between dusk and dark.

The professor drones on about the history behind astronomy. Beomgyu wouldn't know what he was saying, regardless of whether he actually enjoys the topic at hand; the professor speaks too quickly, and the closed-caption feature on his laptop is practically useless in a lecture hall like this.

Honestly, he is only here for the sake of attendance - he will go back to his apartment later on just to watch a recording of the class. He wonders where he should go after this; he can’t go home just yet.

Taehyun sits beside him as Beomgyu busies himself with his Japanese assignments. The younger boy is diligently jotting notes down into their shared Google Document, eyes almost unblinking as he stares at his laptop, then at the professor.. It is almost a little worrying. He wonders if Taehyun's eyes are ever dry.

The class goes on, the professor travelling from one civilisation to the next. By the time class has ended, Taehyun waves and bids him goodbye, see you tomorrow, and Beomgyu is left alone to further decide on where he should go.

He leaves campus as the sky is turning a brilliant purple and takes a short walk towards a convenience store, decked with pink, season-limited goods. Cherry and plum soda and pink coloured ice and pink popsicles; even the kimbap is wrapped in a pink package. This all brings an unwitting smile to Beomgyu's face - the cherry blossom season will be over in a few days, maybe he should go for a stroll along the campus grounds. The park nearby is known for its cherry trees, after all.

The pitter patter of rain hits the metal awnings, washing away the quiet of the store.

Beomgyu grimaces. Maybe a stroll is a bad idea.

Rather than that, maybe he should stay here and continue to work on his assignment. It's not as if he is in a rush to be home - not that he can be home now.

He buys a drink to cheer himself up - it's pink, too, and it tastes so syrupy sweet, laced with strawberries and pink-coloured cream - and finds an empty table at the corner of the store, and works his minutes away alone.

The bell of the store rings, and it has rung a handful of times since he had been there - Beomgyu hears this better than whatever whirring sound something else is making, because it is high-pitched and so easily picked up by his hearing aids. They have mostly been strangers looking for raincoats and umbrellas, but this time his world impossibly brightens just a little, and Beomgyu stops whatever he is reading.

He lifts his eyes up towards the entrance, and Yeonjun is standing there, raindrops dripping down his hair like it is raining itself, and Beomgyu's struggling to find the right words to say.

He takes a deep breath instead.

"Yeoncyun-sun-bae," He calls. Yeonjun's eyes shoot up to find him, and he is smiling as soon as he sees him. Beomgyu feels his ears heating up. Yeonjun pulls down his face mask.

"Beomgyu? I did not expect to find you here," he walks towards his table, "Are you not going home? I heard the rain's only gonna get heavier tonight."

Beomgyu writes in the corner of a random notebook - Soobin ditched me to go on a last minute date with Hueningie. I'm locked out of our apartment.

Yeonjun tilts his head, "Can't you just go in yourself?"

I forgot the passcode…

Yeonjun chuckles lightly, and Beomgyu sees the flicker of fondness in his eyes - his eyes tell so much. Beomgyu thinks he might just see stars in them if he tries. What is he thinking?

"Looks like you're gonna be stuck here for a while," he says. "Have you had dinner yet? We can have it together. How about that?"

We?

If question marks are able to physically bounce atop a person’s head, his would be, in this instant. We? As in…

Together? He writes, looking up to meet his soulmate's eyes.

He imagines, like he always does these days, about Yeonjun getting his colours. He imagines what will happen if he does, with him - stuck in an apparently growing downpour in a convenience store, no less pretty of a scene than how Beomgyu had first met him. He hopes he likes pink if he does.

"If you want to. It's so sad to eat dinner alone here, don't you think? I haven't eaten anyways," Yeonjun smiles invitingly, "Do you like spicy ramyeon? It's so good for weathers like these."

His eyes brighten so wholeheartedly when Beomgyu agrees. Beomgyu is utterly bewildered.

“Good. We can share some sides!”

Then fifteen minutes came and went and he finds himself facing a table full of food.

He is still in between surprise and catching up, really - this is the last thing he'd imagine happening tonight, microwaved ramyeon with cheese and kimbap and dumplings and one Choi Yeonjun, who insisted he pay for their meal. He's older, he told him, and he had yet to treat him to something. Beomgyu is looking for any pockets in his backpack he could stuff money into later on. Maybe the hood of his hoodie too. Yeonjun sees through him almost immediately.

The rain grew heavier when Yeonjun won their tiny argument. He looked so happy, eyes curved into happy lines and dimples dotting the bottom of his lips. Beomgyu remembered thinking he was intimidating when he first met him - even the idea of that is starting to humour him now.

Yeonjun looks so happy eating with him too. Beomgyu imagines his parents seeing him eat, someday - they will be so happy, won't they? That their son's soulmate is such a good eater, the absolute opposite of Beomgyu. They have always been so excited for who his soulmate may be…

He's getting ahead of himself. He throws the idea to the back of his mind somewhere, some new metaphorical folder in the name of Choi Yeonjun, and takes a small mouthful of his favourite noodles, feeling the spice tingling and lingering on his tongue.

The rain is getting heavier. They get storm warnings on their phones; something about the heaviest rain this season, heavy traffic in certain parts of Seoul... Yeonjun is telling him something, his cheeks puffed from the kimbap he's chewing on, and the rain is washing away the syllables in his speech. Beomgyu frowns, a ball of frustration bubbling in his chest as he feels a headache creeping to the nape of his neck, and the back of his eyes. He doesn’t like the sound of rain on metal. He can feel it, the way they intrude his ears like ice rocks, cold and unnerving.

Yeonjun must have noticed, because he is pulling out his phone and the next thing you know, Beomgyu sees a message request from him on Kakaotalk.

Choi Yeonjun

: Hey, I figured we should talk like this. To not spam the group chat, you know ^^

: Could you hear me well? Is the rain too much?

He looks up to see his warm, curious eyes, and the frustration that's been simmering unfolds into something warm and lovely. He nods and hopes his smile shows his gratitude enough, and Yeonjun mirrors him in kind. He quickly plucks off his hearing aids. Quiet.

this is better :

thank you, yeonjun-sunbae :

Choi Yeonjun

: It's nothing. I'm glad this is easier for you.

: You can also just call me hyung, you know?

Beomgyu lets out a huff of laughter, meeting Yeonjun's eyes, all expecting like a kid with a fistful of candy. He imagines a campfire crackling in there - pictures himself getting closer, hands stretched out in search of warmth.

yeonjun-hyung. better?:

Yeonjun laughs as he tells him yes, his eyes gleaming with glee. He types on his phone, Beomgyu sees the ellipsis, doing a happy little dance before a message bubble pops up its white speech bubble.

Choi Yeonjun:

Sunbae makes me feel so old…

The message is followed up by a sticker of a cat, curled up in a corner with tears on its face. Beomgyu giggles.

but you are two whole years older than me :

He sees Yeonjun and his puffy cheeks - not from the kimbap, that's long gone - but just air he's taking in like an angry pufferfish. As if that makes him more intimidating. How silly. Is he supposed to feel so happy?

He looks back down on his phone when he sees Yeonjun's finger hovering up, probably towards the send button.

Choi Yeonjun

: Yah you

: Out of all the people you had to learn from Taehyun?

: I'm only eighteen months older, Beomgyu-yah

Beomgyu laughs giddily.

but you kind of remind me of a baby :

Yeonjun hangs his head low, pretending to be saddened. But Beomgyu sees the way his cheekbones show just before he's ducked low enough to hide it away - he is smiling, maybe laughing, and either way, Beomgyu is smiling because of it.

They talk about their day, about Soobin and Kai, and Yeonjun tells him all about dancing and convenience store recipes, his favourite coffee shops and his studio apartment, how he's known Taehyun since his family's moved to their neighbourhood and how Taehyun lives just a floor below his unit now. Talking and simply existing with Yeonjun is such an easy, natural thing. He comes to realise this when he looks back at the time once more, once he finally finishes the assignment at hand - it is close to eleven, and the rain has slowed down to a drizzle, yet the boy right in front of him is still there, waiting for him to finish his work as he completes his own. He grabs his phone and Yeonjun perks up from his folder of notes.

the rain's stopping, hyung :

are you leaving soon? :

Yeonjun sees the message, and Beomgyu waits before he sees him typing…

Choi Yeonjun

: I'll leave with you. I can take the subway home. What do you think?

And it occurs to Beomgyu right then, as he glances over at the conversation they have been having, that Yeonjun could have easily bought an umbrella and left; he wouldn't have missed the last bus, and he could have not been stuck in a convenience store with him for four hours straight; he could have had a better dinner at home or elsewhere.

He watches as Yeonjun gets them an umbrella - the ones of simpler designs have probably been sold out, because this one has cherry blossom patterns all over it, casting shadows of petals like love hearts onto their faces and their clothes as he pushes it open. Beomgyu taps on his shoulder, lifting his screen towards the older.

thank you for today, Yeonjun-hyung :

you really didn't have to stay. sorry you missed your bus :

Yeonjun scans over the messages quietly, contemplates on something for a second or so, before he shakes his head with a carefree grin.

"It's just something I want to do, Beomgyu-yah," He looks into his eyes; genuine and kind.

"Don't stress about it. I had fun, you know? Thank you for eating with me."

Beomgyu does not know how to answer him; he's quite simply clueless as to how he possibly can. So he stares at the messages a little longer, hoping to find a sentence that's good enough for him.

There's something swelling in his chest. Something warm, like fondness perhaps. Like the last flowers of spring; maybe a tiger stirred from hibernation, fiery orange against stark cold snow. They walk along the quieter streets; it smells of rain and a hint of tobacco. Streetlights merge their shadows into one. The last of this year's cherry blossoms have fallen to the ground, a sign of a summer that's surely to come.

Beomgyu wants to tell him he is happy today.

He is happy most days, don't get him wrong; he has reasons to be happy, and he clings onto those reasons like koala bears do to eucalyptus trees. But he thinks it is a different sort of happiness today. He struggles to find words for it.

How can he say it? How do people express themselves like that? Beomgyu sees his reflection on the puddles and he sees himself in a maze, a labyrinth - how can he find a way out of there, with all the words scattered all over the place?

He doesn't know. To be more specific, he thinks he knows. It is a foreign thing but he thinks if he reaches further down he might get a grasp of it. But not now.

For now, he smiles because he wants to, because his soulmate has made him feel so bright; has made him want for something even brighter. He hopes Yeonjun understands that today, he has made him happy. He has become the equal sign to an equation he cherishes so dearly.

He hopes in the near future, he can be a part of Yeonjun's happiness too. That person who will call for the sun to shine its light right there into his world, and reflect on every surface to make it iridescent.

He can be patient, he thinks. Until they find that vital moment, whatever it may be. Beomgyu will try everything until something happens.

They reach the staircase leading to the subway station. Yeonjun turns to face him, handing him the petal-laden umbrella.

"Dhank-yew, hyung,"

Yeonjun pats his back gently, and Beomgyu sees a small 'aish' leaving his lips. "Don't have to thank me so much. I'll feel embarrassed."

He is smiling so much though, Beomgyu muses. As if he's genuinely so happy. Why is he so happy? Who was Beomgyu, tonight?

They exchange their goodbyes and Beomgyu walks home alone. Grey pavement to spotted linoleum, petals fallen all across the ground, his shadow only noticed by the streetlights above him. He reaches their apartment building soon enough.

He rings the doorbell and inches closer towards the door, glaring straight at their peephole where he knows the camera will be. Soobin lets him in with an apology already written on his face. Beomgyu looks at him as he unties his shoelaces.

"I didn't expect it to rain that badly. Sorry for locking you out," He crosses his arms, leaning his weight against a wall, his eyes following Beomgyu even as he plops himself onto their couch.

"Although you really should've remembered the code, Choi Beomgyu. It's literally four numbers."

The Choi Beomgyu in question changes the topic immediately.

‘How was the date with Hueningie?’ he signs the boy's name with a quirk of his brows.

He was the one to give Kai his name in sign. They thought long and hard about it, just days after Beomgyu's first met him, and settled for one which resembles a cute little penguin.

Maybe Yeonjun's name can resemble a fox. Or a duck.

He feels Soobin sitting next to him. On the indent on the couch customised for, and by him.

"He asked me if I wanted to get bingsu with him when I texted you earlier. But it was raining so hard we ended up going to the cinema."

Beomgyu hums in acknowledgement. ‘What did you two watch?’

“The new anime movie that just came out. It was okay,”

"What about you? You were at the convenience store weren't you?"

‘Yeah.’

‘Yeonjun-hyung was there with me.’

Soobin sits up immediately, and Beomgyu can see his imaginary bunny ears perking up in curiosity. Or in this case, nosiness.

"Hyung?" Soobin signs the word just to make sure, his mouth agape with surprise when Beomgyu is nodding at him. "You were there with him this whole time?"

‘He stayed with me,’ he tells Soobin with a smile on his face. ‘It felt really nice, actually. He's too nice.’

Soobin looks at him, mirthful and merry. "Isn't he? I told you he likes you - yah, don't look at me like that, I meant that he doesn't hate you - I'm glad I gave you a reason to be stuck with him. You owe me one, Gyu."

Beomgyu pouts.

‘Soobin-hyung is annoying,’ Beomgyu mopes. ‘He left me all alone last minute, in a convenience store, and then now he wants me to-’

Soobin sighs, smiling fondly.

He rubs his hand on the younger's head, making a mess out of his hair. "Whatever you say, Gyu. Hyung is just happy you had fun with him.”

“Now go shower; you're gonna catch a cold if you don't."

‘I know, hyung. I’m going.’ Beomgyu turns towards their shared bathroom-

"-so!" he feels Soobin pulling on his sleeve. Beomgyu looks over at him, "We made raisin pastries today. I brought some back so, heat them up and eat them."

‘Thanks hyung.’

"I picked the ones with the least raisins for you," He says. Beomgyu's heart warms a little at that. He smiles.

"Remember to eat them. Even my mom told me you should eat more, you toothpick," Soobin scolds, "You remember what happens when you skip your meals, don't you?"

Beomgyu presses his lips tightly together.

‘Yes, eomma. Anything else?’

"And," Soobin announces, "Yeonjun-hyung, Taehyunnie and Hueningie are planning to come over for dinner this Saturday."

‘Coming here?’

"Yep. Remind me to get the drinks, yeah?"

‘Why not set a reminder on your phone instead, hyung?’

🌸🐯

That night, Beomgyu looks through their conversation on his phone, and a smile comes sneaking its way to his face at the memories of today, tinted rose-y and light.

And the next time Beomgyu sees him around campus, he's brave enough to be the one to go up to him first. Yeonjun grins, a smile in his words as his lips shape to sound Beomgyu’s name so easily.

🌸🐯

A perfectly fine iced americano has magically spawned right in front of him on a fine Thursday afternoon, his name written bold and blue on the receipt, its price scribbled off with permanent marker, and the paper stuck on the cup by virtue of condensation.

Yeonjun stares at it.

Has been staring, for the past minute or so.

"You sure this belongs to no one?"

Yeonjun loves freebies, don’t get him wrong, but there’s three things wrong with this: 1) Orientation week was two weeks ago, 2) He loves freebies, but he also knows there’s no such thing as free lunch (or in this case, coffee), 3) Scary enough, he had just complained at lunch about how he was craving for an iced americano, too much in a hurry to actually get one himself. So the appearance of an iced americano is.. too perfectly-timed.

"Yep. Read the receipt, dummy. What does it say? Does it say Kim Yerim, or Choi Yeonjun?"

Maybe there’s some guy in the dance club named Yeonjun too. Or maybe this might be the day he finally believes in God. Or ghosts. The ghosts or God must have good taste; this is from his favourite café.

“Yah! Guys!” Yeonjun lifts himself by his knees, muscles pulling tight from the strain, "Is any of you named Yeonjun too?”

Somewhere across the other corner of the practice room, someone shouts back.

“Nope. Just you!”

“But I didn’t-” He pouts, head turning to stare at the coffee again, as if it might disappear. Actually, it might make more sense if it does.

“Again. It has your name right here and it was right outside, Junnie-yah. That’s why I brought it in,” Yerim informs quite pointlessly, still lying on the floor. “If you’re not gonna drink it, then I'll take it,” Her arm stretches to grab the iced drink on the floor, and Yeonjun stomps his leg right in front of the drink.

The girl shrieks, her hand reaching to slap on Yeonjun’s leg insistently instead. Just like how one might whack a cockroach with a rolled up magazine.

“Yah! Choi Yeonjun! Get your stinking foot away!” She complains. He opens his mouth to tell her his feet are in fact not stinking- “I wasn’t even gonna drink it! I saw words there, Jun!”

Yeonjun pauses, scoots his foot away, and looks down.

“Words?”

“Right there on the receipt,” She points out.

Yeonjun deadpans.

“No shit there are words on a receipt. Have you ever seen a receipt, Kim Yerim?”

“Handwritten words, stupid!” She rolls over just to grab ahold of it, pulling the now damp receipt and flipping it to its back. Yeonjun squints just to see them, the tiny words, ink bleeding out of every syllable. A handwriting he can almost give a name to.

“For treating me on Tuesday. Enjoy, hyung,” Yerim reads, “From.. Choi.. Ooh-” Yerim sits up hastily, eyes sparkling, “Who’s Choi Beomgyu?”

“Ah,” So it wasn’t a ghost giving him free coffee. Thank God; he doesn’t know a way to thank ghosts, but he does know ways to thank Choi Beomgyu…

“A friend of mine,” He responds simply, smiling, “He’s the friend Soobin and Kai were talking about. The boy with hearing aids?”

“Oh, him?” Yerim looks at Yeonjun a second longer, then the receipt, “How sweet. This is from your favourite place, too.. you told me you like their coffee a lot…”

Yeonjun snorts. The girl looks at him again.

“Get it? Because I like it a latte-”

“The exit is to your left.”

🌸🐯

Saturday afternoon, Soobin and him return to their apartment with snacks, fruits, and beverages by the bagful. They stock their almost barren fridge together - rows of juice, banana milk, instant meals, and half a fridge full of tangerines. Soobin also stocks the ice tray, while they’re at it, and since they are both productive enough, they hang a framed poster by their living room too.

When all is done, Beomgyu goes back into his room, plugging his guitar to the mini amplifier and connecting its sound to his headphones.

He uses it to watch movies and learn songs on his guitars - this is the only way he can actually hear what he is playing, and the headphones he's wearing, with his name custom ingrained into the slider, was a birthday gift from his brother before he left for college. So Beomgyu treasures it dearly, like the guitar he's holding in his arms.

Once the app tells him every string's been perfectly tuned, Beomgyu finds the tabs for a song he's been wanting to play. He tries Colde, he tries John Denver, even dips his fingers into instrumentals of his favourite movies. All the songs he hears back home, his father's voice booming as they drive all around Daegu, up and around without a place in mind. Music sounds different for everyone, his father told him once. It didn’t matter what he could hear and what he couldn’t, it matters what they mean to him. And he-

-the ceiling light goes off, and on.

He stops playing, turning his attention to the doorway where Yeonjun is standing. He feels heat climbing onto his cheeks - since when has he been there? Aren't they supposed to be here in an hour?

"Yonshun-hyung?" He pulls his headphones away.

"Sorry, Beomgyu-yah. Were you startled?'' The tight expression on his face loosens when he sees Beomgyu's hand waving back and forth. "Are you in the middle of something? Can hyung come in?"

Beomgyu scoots over and Yeonjun settles himself on his bed, his eyes fascinated by the guitar in his hands. "You've never told me you could play."

Beomgyu gets his phone and types fluidly onto a memo he'd named Yeonjun.

i've been playing since i was ten. my dad taught me.

are the others here already, hyung?

"Oh, no, just me. I had nothing else to do," Yeonjun says, "I thought it'd be better if I came. I even got us ice cream."

what flavour did you get?

"Mint chocolate chip."

Beomgyu cringes. Yeonjun laughs at his reaction, his eyes curving into lines. "What's with that face? You hate it or something?"

you have shitty taste in ice cream.

that's all I've gotta say.

"Or maybe you're just horribly picky."

literally no one likes it but you hyung. that says a lot.

"Yah, Kai and Soobin like it too."

Beomgyu pulls an exasperated face.

soobin-hyung only tolerates it because kai is his soulmate! and kai never finishes his ice cream!

Yeonjun laughs, "And what if your soulmate loves it too huh? Then what'll you do?"

That's literally what's happening now! Beomgyu wants to tell him. But he swallows his words with a pout and types something else instead.

then i'll pretend to not know him. i'll look away.

"Him," Yeonjun mouths, upon reading Beomgyu's words, "now that I think about it, you've never mentioned anything about your soulmate," He turns to look at Beomgyu, head tilting curiously as Beomgyu imagines a lump building in his throat. "How did you two meet?"

it's.. kinda complicated.

"Huh?" Yeonjun pouts - is he even aware he's doing that? - "What does that mean?"

i don't really wanna talk about it for now, Beomgyu tells him, his heartbeat reaching his throat.

Is this how he’s going to find out?

Relief pours into his chest when Yeonjun immediately nods and hums in understanding, even though one look at Yeonjun and anyone can tell he's filled with questions. Asking about soulmates is such a normal thing; Beomgyu's answers must've been suspicious, weren't they?

He chews on the inside of his cheek.

what about hyung?

"Well, I haven't met mine yet," Yeonjun tells him, to which Beomgyu tries his best to look unphased. "Remember when we met, and I told everyone I saw colours for a split second?" Beomgyu nods. “I regret not getting a better look at my hair. I have no idea how it looks like.”

Beomgyu laughs. you seriously don't know?

"I really don't. How can I?"

why did you even dye it then? Beomgyu asks. Yeonjun leans his back against the wall next to his bed.

"My mom has a salon," He explains languidly. "So before this semester began I told her, 'Eomma, I wanna do something with my hair. Can you pick a colour for me?' and she did. She told me it's red, or something. Wouldn't be specific."

well, it is red.

"What kind of red? Just red?"

it's kind of like a big fire, Beomgyu writes.

"Do I look good with a fire on my head?"

i don't know. do you?

Yeonjun deadpans. "I literally can't see it, Beomgyu-yah. Als, don’t fires come in different colours?"

Beomgyu chuckles.

you'll see.

Yeonjun pouts like a duck, his mind so helpfully adds. He follows Yeonjun’s eyes as he looks up, focused on his hair this time.

"Have you ever dyed your hair then?" He asks. "I think yellow highlights will look good with your hairstyle.”

“Yellow?”

Beomgyu tries to picture it, his hair coloured in yellow. He thinks he'll look like an anime character. But it has always been something he wants to do, hasn't it? He imagined his hair in silver and purple and red, and he’s always envied his peers who had the courage to dye it whatever they wished; who had the bravery to stand out like that. Meanwhile all he's done is to grow them long enough to hide his ears away.

He wonders if it's something he can share with Yeonjun. Is this something he can understand?

"Beomgyu?"

Oh, well.

i've kinda always wanted to try dying it.

He sees Yeonjun cocking his head to the side once more. "Then why not?"

Beomgyu's brows knot as he bites the inside of his lips, trying his best to assemble every word to its place, like that IKEA bookshelf he and Soobin had tried to build prior to calling for Yeonjun's divine intervention. Yeonjun's curious eyes are too much, so he shifts his focus onto his ears instead. Yeonjun has two piercings on his left ear. Beomgyu thinks they fit him so pleasantly. He'd once imagined himself getting them too. He hesitates across the keyboard. His thoughts sound so silly in his head.

i really want to get piercings too. like yours, hyung.

they look so pretty.

but what if they draw attention to my ears?

i'm scared that'll be the first thing people see when they look at me.

Yeonjun is frowning. He looks as if he has even more questions than they had begun with. Beomgyu hates the nerves stirring in his chest.

"Do you hate your ears?" Yeonjun asks. It's more than that, he wants to say. So he shakes his head, going back to typing on his phone as he feels Yeonjun inching closer to read it.

not really. it's just..

i don’t know how to say it without saying too much, but i don’t hate them.

i’m just more used to not showing them.

“But why?”

Beomgyu looks away, his mind grappling for a straight and sensible answer. It's frustrating how words tend to stray away when you most need them.

“Beomgyu?”

He finally braves a look at Yeonjun's eyes, and the blur of his face becomes clearer.

Yeonjun is mere inches away from him, and Beomgyu wonders what he can possibly be thinking.

"I might be asking a really stupid question," Yeonjun hesitates, but Beomgyu nudges him to go on.

"What made you pick Japanese? I was surprised. I.. actually, when I first heard about it I was surprised because well, you can't hear well. Also, why astronomy for your gen eds, of all things?"

Beomgyu hums.

it's not my first or second choice, he tells Yeonjun. when i was young, i wanted to be a musician because my parents love music so much. could you believe it?

Yeonjun narrows his eyes, confused, and Beomgyu gives him a knowing smile.

i'm sure you know why that's impossible. and i knew it too. i can’t even hear music properly.

“You weren’t upset over it? I’m sure many people would,” Yeonjun closer, and Beomgyu has to remind himself to focus on actually reading his lips. “If there’s something stopping me from dancing I’d not know what I’d do.”

when i realised the music i heard was barely the music everyone could hear, i was sad. not because i didn’t know, but because i felt left out.

but because i’m deaf, there are many things i can’t ever do. it’s just how it is. but i like Japanese. i plan on getting a certification in translations after this. i like astronomy too. i try my best in the things i am able to do. like guitar, while i can still pick up the sounds well enough. it’s been harder than it was though.

but when i change my hearing aids next time i'll get ones with bluetooth in them, so i can hear music better.

Yeonjun frowns.

“Does your hearing get worse?”

Beomgyu nods. very slowly, he explains. my hearing aids are temporary. my left ear’s hearing is worse than my right.

“There aren't any other hearing aids after that?” Yeonjun asks, and Beomgyu sees a hint of worry in his eyes. He seems more worried than Beomgyu is, he muses quietly as he types.

there are cochlear implants, but I don’t know if i want to get them yet. i have quite a while until i have to decide on that.

Yeonjun murmurs something, dragging his words as if in deep contemplation.

"I have another thing to ask, and you can say no to this," he tells him. This time, Beomgyu is nodding too. "It's kinda weird, though.."

i'd rather you ask, hyung. so please, he smiles.

"Is it okay if I see your hearing aids? I'm just curious," he continues. "I've always wondered how they work, and.."

Beomgyu pauses. Ah, so this is the question he wanted to ask me a while ago.

He looks back at Yeonjun, waiting patiently for his answer, with his fire-like hair and his equally burning gaze a little frantic. Probably from how long Beomgyu took to answer him.

"Sure.”

"Is it really?"

Beomgyu assures him one more time. He notices Yeonjun's hand, uncertain, and his heart races and his own fingers come to brush away the hair hiding his ears, and prays to God the warmth on his face is nowhere visible.

The hearing aids are both cream coloured, the earpieces tucked snugly right outside of his ear canals, attached to a tube which stretches across to the back of his ear, where the microphones are settled to amplify every sound it manages to pick up. Yeonjun looks like he's trying to figure it all out, and Beomgyu's other hand finds the hem of his sweatpants as he shies away from his eyes.

It's amazing enough that he hasn't passed out from the speed his pulse is taking.

"Oh," He says. "Is this a.. How do they work, actually? Like a speaker?"

"Kinda," Beomgyu hums.

"They're…" Yeonjun murmurs, close enough for Beomgyu to hear it like a faraway whisper, unable to be understood. He looks at Yeonjun once again. He looks as if he is cautiously trying to find all the words he's looking to say. His eyes are brimmed with something Beomgyu cannot decipher.

"I think they’re really cool," Yeonjun finally tells him, just loud enough for him to pick apart; just soft enough for it to border on intimate, "They let you do all the things you like. I don't think they're something you should hide away."

When Beomgyu doesn't respond, he brushes his thumb across his earlobe - as light as a feather, and it is supposed to be as ticklish as one (Beomgyu is the squirmiest person he knows) but Beomgyu's eyes are locked on Yeonjun's eyes, nose, lips - there isn't a single bit of judgement in them. Maybe hesitance and nerves, yes, but that just comes with the territory of seeing something one's not familiar with. Yeonjun speaks again.

"And with piercings - if you want them it can just be something for you to see, you know? You can hide it under your hair but still feel pretty. Don't you think so?"

He breaks away from his staring stupor, and Yeonjun's eyes are on him now. Just a moment too late for it to be shared in kind.

Beomgyu knows Yeonjun’s words were well-intended. He really does.

After all, Yeonjun cannot possibly know what living with deafness feels like, just like how Beomgyu can never understand what it means to be fully hearing.

But bitter memories linger in his tongue, every time he hears something similar - that he should never have to hide something which instantly labels him as an outsider; his everyday that so many others have perceived as simply something they're ought to fix, like a broken part of him. Something which makes him anything less; someone unapproachable. He still remembers often only having his very existence in a room acknowledged when that label, and everything that comes with it - be it stupid, be it dumb, be it freak - are attached to his wrist like an intravenous drip, curing a fever that was never there.

He wants to believe it so badly. That others will learn to see him as nothing else other than who he is, and nothing less than that.

He still hopes he can believe it someday. In a perfect world, maybe he can.

Yeonjun pulls his attentive eyes away and Beomgyu snaps away from his thoughts, turning to see the door opening, a Soobin popping in.

"Am I disturbing something?” He asks. They both answer with a no, but from the look in Soobin’s eyes Beomgyu knows he is going to tease him the moment they are alone.

“Kai and Taehyun are coming up now. Help me get the place ready?"

"Oh, sure," Yeonjun pushes from where he was sitting, and Beomgyu watches quietly as he yells something from the living room. Soobin shoots Beomgyu an irritatingly smug grin, with raised brows to match. Before he could even retaliate the older's already sliding away on his socks.

He vaguely hears the high-pitch beep of their front door opening, followed by Kai's equally high-pitched scream. Beomgyu finds himself smiling before he leaves for the now lively living room.

In a perfect world, everyone will be able to see him as he is - just Beomgyu, who likes all things pretty and music and guitars and romantics. Who thinks he does not believe in astrology, but has an app for it anyways. If it comes so easily with other people, does he not deserve the same?

He also knows this isn't a perfect world.

But he sees his friends mingling about in the living room, the coffee table pushed and leaning aside to make way for their now extended dining table. He familiarises himself with the shoes near the entrance, the noises stacking and altered in his ears.

Kai is coming over to wrap him in one of his big bear hugs, so overflowing with pure love and innocence Beomgyu wishes he will always stay this way; that Soobin won't influence him with his more than questionable brain. They have delivered pizzas and sides and couple them with flavoured sodas and bottles of soju. They attempt a horror game tipsy until they are on the verge of getting a noise complaint. They laugh with their hearts and stomachs warm as Yeonjun loses again and Soobin remembers the UNO cards he has stored in his room. They play round after round, and at some point Taehyun shows them card tricks, they save up every plus card for Yeonjun only for him to win anyways, and Kai and Soobin team up to cheat. They end up losing and having every card thrown at them in the end, even if it means more cleaning up.

Laughter, laughter, laughter, laughter. Until their stomachs hurt. Beomgyu couldn't make out a lot of what was said, but he felt happy nonetheless - they did their best to include him, whether it is by Soobin signing the conversations to him or all of them sitting by one end of their living space just so Beomgyu can read their lips easier. All of it mattered; the world wasn't perfect but he has four friends who make constant effort to let him join their games.

They play nonstop until it's midnight and Taehyun and Yeonjun are forced to leave for the last train home.

No one remembers who won, Soobin begs Kai to stay over, and their little party of five ends and Beomgyu leans bonelessly against the couch, brain fuzzy with words he can see but no longer comprehend. He closes his eyes, and finally lets the overwhelming joy in his chest free with an unadulterated smile.

Tonight is a happiness so vibrant he catches himself breathing in just to digest them.

He sends Yeonjun and Taehyun off, waving them goodbye as he stands at the entrance of the apartment building, seeing the two getting smaller and smaller, a red and black dot under the lights of nearby shops, until they disappear completely from his view.

The last gusts of pollen-laden wind sends chills up his spine. He heads back upstairs to find Kai drying the now half-asleep Soobin's hair - so sickly sweet and domestic that Beomgyu's compelled to look the other way.

How wondrous it'll be to have something like that, some part of him sings.

He takes a quick shower and brushes his teeth - his reflection is that of dripping hair and tinted cheeks, and his hand sweeps his hair back just to expose his ears. He imagines having a piercing right there; thinks back to the words Yeonjun had told him hours earlier.

It doesn't have to be for anyone but himself; a secret something only he knows about.

Something he's always wanted to do.

His heart skips as he thinks further into it, until the door shakes from a series of knocks and Kai is asking via text if he's alright in there, and he realises he has been holding a mouthful of toothpaste in his mouth for minutes, foam already escaping to his lips and dripping onto porcelain.

He unlocks the door and Kai tells him Soobin is already out like a light.

"What do we do about the rest of the mess?" He gestures towards the living room. Beomgyu smiles as if he has already read the younger's mind.

"Soobin will do it tomorrow," They both whisper together, breaking out in quiet laughs echoing around the confines of the bathroom, "And Soobin-hyung thinks he’s so smart, falling asleep before us," Kai snickers.

Half an hour later, Beomgyu receives a text from their group chat - a picture of Yeonjun sitting in the last train home with him, his head propped against the side and his cheek and plump lips all squished up into a crooked o shape as he's all but dozed off.

Octopus, Taehyun has simply captioned. Beomgyu saves the picture and thinks of him again. The fire of his hair, the piercings on his ears, and how they might look pretty on him as well.

He opens Kakaotalk, and clicks into Yeonjun’s icon.

Yeonjun may be home now, showering or dead asleep in his bed, or maybe his couch, but Beomgyu sends him a message before morning comes and wears his current rush of confidence away.

Hyung, do you know a good place to get piercings? :

The next morning, he receives a reply.

Yeonjun-hyung

: I know a place

: Are you free on Children's Day? I can bring you there

🌸🐯

Children’s Day rolls around, and the rush of confidence is long gone.

They are in front of a tattoo parlour just a station away from where Yeonjun lives, the boy turning to face him as soon as they're by the side of the crowded street.

"It's okay if you’re not ready," Yeonjun tells him patiently, allowing his sleeve to be gripped loosely by Beomgyu's fidgeting fingers, "We can just go for lunch, y'know? I know lots of good spots around here."

Beomgyu lets go of his hold on him, wondering just how much of his nervousness must be showing if even Yeonjun has picked up on it.

i want to do it, he writes. it won't hurt, right?

"Then it'll be over before you know it, Beoms," Yeonjun reassures him with a smile. He takes Beomgyu's hand into his, and somewhere inside of Beomgyu feels all jittery, like a flutter of butterflies. He shoves it all to the side and excuses it off as nerves.

And Yeonjun's hand is so warm compared to his.

"Ready to go?"

Beomgyu takes a deep breath in, and before Yeonjun can even begin to take a step, he's already pushing the door open and feeling the tug of a surprised Yeonjun catching up to him; followed by the strong stench of disinfectant and lingering wisps of morning coffee; Beomgyu wishes he hadn't had his.

"Oi, Yeonjun-ah!"

A guy Yeonjun's age - Yeonjun's age, Beomgyu snorts to himself. As if he's twenty years older - appears from the back of the parlour with a booming voice, with a big friendly smile and intricate tattoos swimming up his arms. Yeonjun greets him with a chortle.

"Ai, Seo Changbin, what did military service do to your toasty ass?"

"Wait till you see my abs, Yeonjeon-ssi," Changbin taunts.

Beomgyu squints just to be sure he'd read Yeonjun's name right. But apparently he didn't have to do that, because Yeonjun's voice is sounding right next to him.

"Stop calling me a fucking pancake, brat."

"Darling, I can call you whatever I want when my ass is a whole bakery."

"Your ass is annoying."

"Aish. You have no right to say that when planes mistake yours for their runway, Choi Yeonjeon."

It is then that Beomgyu actually snorts.

The counter staff comes over with a dead look on her face, her lips moving with words Beomgyu could not catch. But when he turns to see both Yeonjun and his friend, they are all quiet and proper like scolded schoolchildren. He meets Changbin's eyes and mouths a quick hello.

"And you must be Choi Beomgyu,"

Beomgyu nods. "Ihse -o meet you, Chang-in-ssi."

Changbin grins.

"See, Yeonjun? At least your friend knows his manners, unlike someone-'' He looks away when Yeonjun's just about to open his mouth. Beomgyu looks back at Changbin again - "Nice to meet you too, Beomgyu. Just call me by hyung. Yeonjeonnie's friend is my friend too."

"Yah-" Yeonjun puts his hands on his hips.

"Anyways, Beomgyu. Yeonjun told me about you," He says, "You can read my lips just fine right? Over this mask?" He points a finger towards his clear mask, and this is when Beomgyu realises he's the only staff in the parlour sporting it. His heart swells with gratitude.

"Yes. Sank you," he tells him.

Changbin merely shrugs it off with a smile. "Good, gotta let me know where you want your ears pierced too," He points towards his own ear, "You wear hearing aids on both your ears?"

Beomgyu nods, and feels Yeonjun's hand on his back. He looks up to see Yeonjun's face, his brows furrowing slightly as he asks, "-be a problem, right?"

Beomgyu has scoured through the internet enough to know it won't, but he feels a little more settled when Changbin tells them it'll be no different - "Still gotta look out for infections, and he can't get some of the piercings, but the rest will be exactly the same."

He gives a form for Beomgyu to sign, and pens two tiny 'x' onto Beomgyu's earlobes, like he's marking landmarks or treasure chests on a map - and right when he leaves for something, Yeonjun leans closer towards him, still facing the mirror before them just so Beomgyu can read his lips perfectly. His head is inches away from his shoulder.

"You're pale, Beoms. Want hyung to hold your hand?" He teases.

Beomgyu smacks his face away with a glare. Yeonjun laughs, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. His hand still remains reachable anyways, right next to the armrest where Beomgyu's hand is. Yeonjun's hand is so much bigger than his. Can he play a B minor on a guitar with no trouble at all?

How will it feel if - or when, his mind whispers as heat flushes his ears a light rosey cherry - he laces their fingers together?

Changbin comes back and proceeds to disinfect the area around where the piercings will be, with cotton balls soaked in a strong, stinging antiseptic. He feels his stomach drop when the cotton balls leave his ears, discarded onto a tray in favour of a needle.

So he holds Yeonjun's hand after all, feeling his thumb circling soothingly on the back of his palm as soon as he closes his fingers around Yeonjun's. He doesn't dare to look at the mirror, so he looks at Yeonjun instead - his bright red hair against the stark white ceiling, and the smile he adorns on his face so natural and pure and lovely-

He feels a stinging pinch on his ear and shuts his eyes quickly, his fingers unwittingly squeezing onto Yeonjun's until the pain leaves him seconds later and he sees Changbin reaching for a second needle.

The second one isn't as painful, since Beomgyu has more or less grown accustomed to the feel from the first piercing, but Yeonjun squeezes his hand this time anyways.

Changbin is saying something to him, Beomgyu couldn't tell what, but he looks at the mirror and Yeonjun is telling him he's all set and done.

"Take a look, Beomgyu-yah. Do you like them?"

Beomgyu looks closer and feels himself holding his breath. His ears are an angry red - irritated from the intrusions, most likely, and Changbin tells him it's absolutely normal - but a pair of earrings now rest in his earlobes, silver and glinting against the harsh lights of the parlour. He is tempted to touch them just to assure himself they are real - that he has actually done it, that they are actually there. Yeonjun's hand rests on his shoulder, and he leans in.

"They look pretty," He says. Beomgyu thinks the same, watching them awestruck again and again - to his surprise, there isn't any bit of him which is even feeling a single ounce of regret.

"Don't take them off for the next two to three months, wash them with a mild soap everyday. Don't touch them, don't go swimming, no baths, put a new towel or shirt on your pillow everyday… that's about it, really, I'll write you a list later," Changbin informs him. It is so much that Beomgyu's head begins to spin.

"But if you ever need more advice, you have this guy over here," He pats Yeonjun's shoulder so hard Beomgyu could almost feel it himself. "The first time he came in, he got four piercings the same day and all of them healed perfectly. It's a miracle."

Beomgyu raises his eyebrows curiously towards Yeonjun. He chuckles, running his thumb on Beomgyu's shoulder. "Don't ask. My freshman year was dark."

Beomgyu looks at Yeonjun quietly, before he sees Changbin's mouth moving at the corner of his vision.

"- lot better now," Changbin tells him. Curiosity stirs in Beomgyu's chest; he decides to store it into the Yeonjun folder. Maybe he can bring it up someday - maybe after Yeonjun gets his colours.

It is only a little past the afternoon when they leave, their shadows pooling beneath their feet as the sun shines directly above them; onto the evergreens planted in rows all over the street casting shades for the people underneath. Summer is yet to come, but the sky is a striking blue and without a single cloud. Beomgyu struggles to keep his eyes open. Yeonjun gets himself an iced americano.

Right, summer. That's something Beomgyu hasn't put much thought into. Summer means going home to his family in Daegu - he hadn't been able to tell his parents about this whole soulmate ordeal, too worried that they might be worried too, as if they hadn't been worried enough. But going home means they will certainly find out about him having a soulmate - how should he explain then?

He will not be able to see Yeonjun either. For three months Yeonjun will not have a chance at getting his colours. Beomgyu wonders if Yeonjun feels disheartened, sometimes; one would have usually met their soulmate by now, if not years before. Does he care for such trivial things? Beomgyu knows he certainly did. But Yeonjun has so many friends, is so popular and well-liked all across campus; does that make a difference?

What comes to mind when Yeonjun thinks of his soulmate? What if it's the polar opposite of someone like him? Someone to match the bonfire in his eyes?

They are now walking along a crowded marketplace, with rainbow umbrellas hung in strings above their heads. Beomgyu sees the way his skin is painted red, then orange, yellow, then a swirling blue and green - he looks at Yeonjun's face, and his hair, how it turns a little purple when they are underneath the violets, and how the sunlight seeping through the gaps are painting patches of sun on his cheek, moulding itself to the full of his lips, running to pool at the dips of his collarbones, and the shoulder of his shirt, all to be swept away as they walk further.

"Is there something on my face?" Yeonjun turns to ask him. Beomgyu shakes his head and tells him it's nothing. But oh, what a shame it must have been, to have missed all of that iridescence. All the colours spilled onto you like that, as if you are all they see.

Yeonjun deserves to see all of it so much.

He pleads for his colours to come soon. It is already the tail end of spring, yet Yeonjun has not even truly experienced it himself. And what about summer, what about fall? Will they get to share that - what Beomgyu's heard to be burning leaves, and snow coated roads - will they see those for the first time, together?

Yeonjun leads him to a small restaurant tucked between an aquatic shop and an old stationery store; a place one might miss if they had walked just a pace quicker. They have what might be the best tteokbokki and fried chicken Beomgyu has ever tasted, and Yeonjun proudly tells him how he had discovered the place (by skipping cram school with Changbin and another friend of theirs the day before exams and coming here instead). They talk and watch an episode of a new drama on Beomgyu's phone until the food is no longer there and the ice in their glass has melted and diluted the sweetness in their drinks. Yet another sign of the upcoming summer, Beomgyu notes silently. Yeonjun reminds him of summer.

He reminds him of a lot of things actually. And there is plenty yet to find. Foxes, fires, fried chicken; convenience stores and rain. All this and he has only been in his life for barely seven weeks. They say time moves quickly when you're spending it with the people you like; Beomgyu's inclined to agree. Who wouldn't find Yeonjun lovely to be with?

Does Yeonjun enjoy his company? What if he doesn’t?

Yeonjun reads his words quietly, a bit of their tteokbokki’s sauce still evident on his lips.

"You want to give me a name in sign language?" Yeonjun asks, and the screen is reflected in his piercing dark eyes and they look like sparks to him, "I’ve always thought it's just my name. You get a different one?"

We spell your name if you don’t have one for sign, Beomgyu tells him. It's not convenient. So we'll give our friends and family names in sign, too.

Yeonjun said something Beomgyu couldn't quite pick up, from the way he was looking at his words. But he looks to Beomgyu curiously, "Have you thought of anything for it?"

Beomgyu nods. "-is won, hyung. Look."

He signs with Yeonjun staring ever so attentively, his lips parted and his hand mirroring Beomgyu's every movement just a beat slower - curling his fingers towards his palm, pointing his pointing finger upwards, then lining the four of his fingers together as he moves his thumb to the front of his palm, like an oath, and finally joining both his thumb and pointing finger together to form a circle.

"What does this stand for?" Yeonjun asks. Beomgyu tries to hold his laughter in his lungs.

"Pa-bo," He signs the four syllables again. "Pabo," He points towards Yeonjun, and the older is furrowing his brows and whining about something Beomgyu cannot decipher. Beomgyu laughs either way, back hunched forward and his hand reaching towards his mouth, and he doesn't know this, but Yeonjun is back to smiling just from looking at him.

Yeonjun smacks him lightly for his attention. "Yah, seriously Beomgyu, do it properly. I want to know."

Beomgyu giggles playfully, raising his hand again.

"Do zis," He says, bringing his hand to a fist near his ear and stretching his thumb and his pinkie out into a Y-shape. "Den do dis," He brings his pinkie down, and draws a perfect J with it. Yeonjun follows suit.

"What does this mean?"

"Y," Beomgyu does the sign for Y, "J," He draws the hook with his pinkie once more, and Yeonjun's lips curl to an O shape. He can imagine a sound coming out of it.

"This is my name in sign?"

Beomgyu types on his phone. It's extremely inconvenient, removing the plastic gloves he wears just to type out whatever it is that he wants to say, but it will have to do.

It's your initials spelled in the sign language they use in America, not here. But I thought it'll fit you.

"There are different ones? Huh," Yeonjun does it again, his name, "It's like I've grown a horn on my head," He remarks.

It looks cool, Beomgyu tells him.

Yeonjun gives him a pleased grin, "So you think hyung is cool?"

Beomgyu sips on his watered down drink and looks away. He feels Yeonjun's hand on his wrist, tugging at him. He can't help the smile on his face.

Hyung has always been cool, he wants to say. But then Yeonjun is teasing him for an answer and trying to wink when all he did was blink, and suddenly all the coolness melts away and Beomgyu wants to - in the nicest, fondest way - call his soulmate a loser.

He hands him a tissue instead, and tells him they should go; there's a small line forming outside, of customers waiting to be seated. Yeonjun helps him finish the last of his drink before they stand up to leave.

He pretends to not notice the uneasy looks from a nearby table, how they seem to be whispering amongst one another as they pay for their bill.

The streets greet them with a nice afternoon breeze.

“Changbin, Wooyoung and I came here a lot,” He points as they walk by an old arcade, checker tiles worn, and showing their age. “I wonder if we’ve still got the high score for the basketball game. We went above 300, isn’t that cool?”

Beomgyu ducks his head and laughs as he writes into their memo. Isn’t that supposed to be a single player game?

“They give you more than one basketball for a reason, Beoms,” Yeonjun smiles. Beomgyu can't really argue against that, so he doesn't. “Don’t tell me you’ve never tried it?”

Cheating? Soobin-hyung and I actually competed fairly, unlike you.

That’s a lie if he’s ever made one. Him and Soobin made cheating a competition.

“Yeah, and I’m supposed to believe our Choi Soobin can score without cheating.”

I never said he scored high, he smiles.

Soobin was so bad he never actually made it to the second round, but he never gave his all whenever it came to sports, anyways. His height is all aesthetic and no purpose, as Soobin’s sister used to say.

Yeonjun chuckles warmly, and colours spill on him as they walk by the umbrella-lined street once again. Beomgyu burns it all into his memories like ink to polaroids - the colours and him, like the lingering tart and sweetness of orangeades on a day like this. They walk from the blues to the yellows, Yeonjun entertaining the idea of their friends going to arcades in the near future. "It'll be fun, right? Taehyun and I know a place close to campus. How about next week?"

Beomgyu agrees with an easy grin.

They fall into a comfortable silence after that, taking in all that has happened today so far as they walk unhurriedly to the bus stop. It's rare to feel comfortable in silence with anybody - too often Beomgyu has a need to fill it with anything at all - but it feels natural like this, with him. Beomgyu feels the still tingling, prickling sensation in his ears, he watches as they shuffle from feet to feet on the pavement, syncs his own footsteps with Yeonjun's; left, right, left, right, until eventually he sees Yeonjun looking down and smiling, probably laughing too, with how his shoulders had moved. He looks so pretty like this he makes his heart leap.

They stop together once they reach the bus stop; they talk like they have always been. The bus screeches to a stop and their footsteps match as they board the bus, crowded and busy with people in all colours of clothes; they resemble a fresh pack of gummy worms, Beomgyu muses.

They stand side by side, the handgrips above them swaying, and Yeonjun is smiling into his phone, showing Beomgyu the video he was just watching - Beomgyu squints and he still does not get the joke. Actually, the video had the opposite effect and he is now concerned about Yeonjun's sense of humour, because that's something only his dad would laugh at.

Oh well, he huffs, smiling. No one's perfect after all.

He admires the pretty boy like how one admires eternal things; takes all of him in almost a sense of disbelief - his sharp eyes which are so often filled with kindness and love, his striking brows which furrow whenever he pouts, his lips that…

Beomgyu blinks the thoughts away before he ponders on them even further; his heart is carrying enough as is.

But he looks at Yeonjun like how one fancies eternal things, and it comes to him again as if it's the first time he is struck with this little reverie, still so novel and foreign - he is going to be his eternity for this lifetime, because they are quite literally connected by the soul. Maybe if Yeonjun sees him, feels how his heart beats whenever he's with him, maybe if they swap souls for a day - will he look at him the same?

Maybe in their next lives and their lifetimes before, he had felt the same too-

The bus brakes abruptly and he staggers back, bumping straight onto Yeonjun. The impact sends a sharp, stinging pain from his newly-pierced ears, and Yeonjun almost loses his grip on his phone as he steadies him by the waist. He's saying something - Beomgyu can feel the rumble in his chest, and hear the few syllables he could separate from the other noises around them - but when Beomgyu looks to Yeonjun the last of his words have already left his lips.

Yeonjun takes one look at him, sees the question hanging in his tongue, and repeats himself once more - “Are you okay Beoms? Your ears?"

Beoms. Since when has he started calling him by that?

"-urts a bit," He says. Worry unfolds in Yeonjun's eyes as he pockets his phone. Beomgyu quickly adds, "But I'm o-ay."

Yeonjun pulls the curtains of hair shielding Beomgyu's ears away gently, just enough to check his reddened ear; the silver earring still intact and thankfully not too irritated. He sighs.

"If they still hurt, tell hyung. Okay?"

"Yeah," He stutters, breathlessly. They have stopped at the station by a children's park, and handfuls of passengers empty the bus - half of them children with cute but bulky backpacks, bumping into the duo's legs and arms. They apologise with much excitement; Yeonjun smiles back at them in kind, saying something Beomgyu cannot read, but sounds a lot like "Have fun today!"

An emptier bus means Beomgyu can finally breathe, the air less stuffy than it was minutes ago. Yeonjun turns to him, eyes bright with simple, genuine joy. "Today was nice, wasn't it?"

Beomgyu smiles. "Id waz, hyung," He says carefully. "Dank you."

"Yah, why are you thanking me again, Choi Beomgyu?" Yeonjun scolds, "If you thank me, I should thank you too."

He giggles softly.

Because yet again, today, I was happy with you. He looks up to meet Yeonjun's eyes.

Because today, he thinks he might have fallen a little for him. And what a strange thing it is, to realise you're starting to like someone, under technicolour umbrellas and in a crowded bus. What a strange thing it is, to feel so easily and so very much.

"Begause I am hap-by today doo," He tells him. Yeonjun physically brightens at that, the smile already in his eyes growing a little bigger.

"And the piercings?"

Beomgyu's hand ghosts around his ear, "I like dem," He says truthfully, voice a little shaky from the flutters in his throat and his stomach. He had almost told him he likes him instead.

"I'm glad you do, Beomgyu-yah," Yeonjun pats his back, "I hope this gave you confidence like they had given me."

A question forms in his throat, but Yeonjun's eyes are now on the passing scenery; the streets of Seoul which are void of memories for Beomgyu, but vivid and soulful in itself for Yeonjun. Colourful, one can say, but in a completely different way. One that paints you instead of painting itself alive.

Yeonjun's soul must be the most vibrant thing. It's impossible to picture anything else.

He is saying something to Beomgyu, but his face is turned aside, and words confuse themselves. Beomgyu listens anyway, putting together the words he manages to decipher like how one would solve a puzzle.

Eventually Yeonjun's hand leaves him as he tells Beomgyu goodbye.

His touch lingers like blinking embers in his shirt. It's warm and it is not enough, and the growing urge to lean into it, to beckon it to stay just one station more, frightens even Beomgyu himself.

He leaves the bus, the rhythm of his steps on the surface quieting away.

He becomes a little dot of black and red - an ember - before he disappears, and Beomgyu feels a buzz on his phone not long after.

Yeonjun-hyung

: Tell me when you're back home, okay?

: Stay safe, Beomgyu-yah.

He also sends a sticker of a cat with sunglasses and its thumbs - paw thumbs? - out, and Beomgyu laughs because his dad had sent him the exact same thing.

🌸🐯

The door to the apartment clacks open, and the first thing that greets his eyes is Soobin, his tall figure yet again in his dent on the sofa (Genuinely, Beomgyu does not know how to get rid of it. The thought of Soobin's ass having sat there long enough for it to be depressed is actually kind of depressing).

Kai is forming his own dent right next to him, all snug with a laptop in his lap, and a thick course book sitting by his thigh. Diagrams and pictures of various skin conditions on rodents are sprawled on its pages. Beomgyu looks away.

"Beomgyu-hyung!" Kai calls, "How was today with Yeonjun-hyung?"

Soobin looks at him too, all inquisitive with his pair of glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. Beomgyu seats himself on the old bean bag chair, and pulls away the hair covering his ears.

Kai lets out a gasp and physically sits back up.

"Woah! You got piercings?! Did they hurt?" He asks, leaning forward. "You look good with them!"

"-anks, Kai-yah," Beomgyu says, happiness swirling in his chest. He feels nice. It's inexplicable, because Beomgyu knows the earrings will be hidden away anyways, but he feels as if he is a little different than he was yesterday.

"Did they hurt?"

Beomgyu shakes his head. "Bare-ry."

"They look so pretty on you, hyung," Kai praises, "Soobinnie, doesn't Beomgyu look nice?"

"They're okay," He answers.

Both Beomgyu and Kai give him unimpressed looks. Soobin sighs.

"They're nice, Beomgyu-yah," He says this with a smile, his elbow resting lazily atop the couch as he lays the side of his head in his palm. "I'm glad you finally got them."

With Yeonjun-hyung too, of all people, his mind so conveniently reminds him. He flushes.

Soobin leans closer and points at his face and Beomgyu knows for a fact he's been seen. Shit.

"Wait, is that a blush I see on your face, Choi-"

He pushes his stupid hand away and makes a beeline for his room.

🌸🐯

"I wonder if Yeonjun-hyung will find out before summer break," Kai comments after Beomgyu has scurried away. His soulmate laughs languorously beside him, cheek pressed against the curve of his shoulder, sacrificing decent posture and a healthy spine to stick to his lover.

"It's obvious huh?" Soobin mumbles. "Well, if Yeonjun doesn't get his colours by summer, I get to tease Gyu all summer. Won't that be nice?"

Kai huffs, hand reaching to Soobin's hair. "You're so mean, Soobinnie."

🌸🐯

June, like every month of every year, brings its fair share of changes.

The trees outside their apartment are now a vibrant green, the weather has gotten warmer, the sun more garish, and everyone’s assignments have become more scarily demanding.

There are, of course, the things which stay as they have been - Soobin still brings home his bakery classes' goods twice a week, Taehyun still exchanges his notes with him in astronomy, and Kai still sends him pictures of cute animals regularly. His parents still ask him the same set of questions in their video calls (In this exact order: Have you eaten well? Taken the supplements we sent you yet? How're your piercings healing up? Has school been tough? How's Soobin?).

Beomgyu answers the same almost every time - Yes, he's eating well. (Too well in fact. It's hard to not eat well when your roommate is a bakery student). Yes (Sometimes, when he remembers). They've been perfectly fine (Nothing to add, because they actually are healing great). It's been okay, it's manageable (Beomgyu had teared up over his upcoming project and his unfinished assignments just an hour prior).

As for Soobin…

He turns to look towards his doorway, and takes a deep, deep breath in.

"HYUNG!"

"WHAT?"

Soobin pushes his door open seconds later, spots the ongoing call in his laptop, and sees his parents gush over him like he is their new favourite child. This is what Beomgyu dubs the Choi Soobin phenomenon - his smile lures the neighbourhood ahjussi(s) and ahjumma(s) into giving him pinches on his cheeks, their cooking, their money, and their children's hands in marriage. Maybe hint at their own hands in marriage too, while they're at it.

Beomgyu personally does not see the charm, but maybe that's just him.

He lets Soobin hog the screen as his parents bombard him with his own customised set of questions - How are you? How's school? How's your boyfriend? When are you bringing your boyfriend over for dinner? What dishes does he like? Has Beomgyu been annoying you too much?

It's as if they have adopted Soobin into his family, just like how Soobin's family has treated him. It makes his heart feel all warm and fuzzy, even if he doesn't mention it.

They end the call half an hour after, his parents telling both of them to call them more often. Soobin turns to him, a critical look etched on his face.

"You still haven't told them about it?"

Beomgyu sighs, raising his hands to sign. ‘I'll tell them when we head back for summer. How about that?’

"I guess," Soobin frowns. "It's not like you can keep it a secret right? They quite like Yeonjun-hyung already anyways. They'll be happy, more than anything."

‘I know, hyung,’ Beomgyu lowers his gaze. ‘It's just, I thought Yeonjun would realise before summer break, you know? Most people took only a few months.’

He sees Soobin humming. "True. Maybe he's an even bigger idiot than we'd thought,” He says. “You two are getting a lot closer though. So, glass half full, that’s great.”

Beomgyu thins his lips into a line, a troubled expression which Soobin easily picks out.

‘I guess you’re right,’ He says.

It is yet another change June has brought along with it, his relationship with Yeonjun.

Ever since the day they had gone out together in May, Yeonjun has been appearing in his life more often than before. It is a good thing, of course - with every moment they spend together they are a step closer to however more steps it takes till Yeonjun discovers his colours, and Beomgyu trusts that he is patient enough for it. Good things (in this case, a soulmate,) are worth the wait, after all.

But patience, like many things, is only simple in theory.

If thousands of one-in-ten-thousands have managed to work things out in an average of one to four months (Google’s words, not his), it is quite disheartening to find out that so far, he isn’t a part of the average. There is not much of what goes on beyond the average. What if it takes fourteen years, like that one Reddit post he’d come across? What is he supposed to do then?

He grabs onto Soobin’s shirt, and Soobin turns to him.

‘Hyung,’ Beomgyu signs, ‘Do you think maybe there’s something wrong with me?’

Soobin plops himself back onto Beomgyu’s bed, legs criss-crossed applesauce like a parent about to give their child a long, serious talk. Half of his socks are half-translucent, possibly from all the times he slides on the floor, and Beomgyu stares at it judgmentally. He hopes the older boy notices.

Soobin's line of sight moves from his stare all the way to his socks, like how one connects from dot to dot.

“Your stare’s gonna burn actual holes into them,” Soobin tucks his feet under his thighs, and faces him. “And no, Gyu-yah. Nothing’s wrong. It’s only been what, two months, three months? Two months since you’ve met Yeonjun-hyung. It’ll come soon. It always does.”

He perks up, tapping Beomgyu’s knee. “Remember how I used to joke about how I’ll never meet my soulmate?” His legs begin to shake; his unshakable habit- “If it happened to me, it’ll happen to you too.”

Beomgyu smiles fondly.

He hasn’t forgotten about it - Soobin texting him when Beomgyu was still in highschool and Soobin already all the way in Seoul, telling him how he stays in his apartment so often he might as well never see anyone else for the rest of his life, a joking lilt in his voice followed almost comically by a chuckle laced with worry.

The next semester came along, and he bumped into a transfer student by the name of Huening Kai, and Beomgyu received a video call where he and his computer could barely process his words, from how his hands were cupping his face and he was squealing and kicking. At some point he fell off his bed and Beomgyu couldn’t even see him for a minute straight. He’d said something about how his soulmate had looked like a little lamb: something about a tuft of flour, an angel, a cloud, a molang; a strange amalgamate of arbitrary white-coloured subjectively soft things all mashed up into a single person.

One hour later and Beomgyu remembers suggesting white-coloured-vaguely-fluffy-objects himself.

“He is so pretty, Gyu-yah. You don’t understand. He is SO CUTE. What have I done in my past life to get him as my soulmate?! He’s like-”

‘Shaving cream?’

“SHAVING CREAM! Yes!”

The call lasted three hours. He's also ruined shaving cream for himself.

Back to the present, though, and they are face to face, legs crossed on Beomgyu’s bed. How funny, Beomgyu muses. When Soobin had finally ended their call, he remembers thinking he would react like a Soobin, too, when he meets his soulmate.

'I hope it won’t take too long.'

“It won’t. And by the small, almost improbable chance that it does, colours or not, you enjoy spending time with him, right? You still love him?"

Beomgyu looks away, and Soobin catches the second where he's nipping on his lip before he stops.

‘You don't have to word it like that. I don't even know if I’m seriously starting to like him yet.’

“Oh?”

Soobin smirks and Beomgyu's already nursing the urge to not look at him. He loves him, he really does. But no one has to look so slappable when smug.

“Do I really have to say it?”

Beomgyu mumbles a ‘no’ but Soobin is teasing too much to stop.

"Everytime I see you with him, Gyu-yah, I feel dead inside. You stare at him like someone hung stars in hyung's eyes or something," Soobin scoots closer, until his arm is wrapping around Beomgyu's shrinking, flushing frame, "Even Hueningie and Taehyunnie noticed it. Aren't I right? Wasn't that what you told me? When was that now, last Thursday? Who knows our resident Choi Beomgyu gets all poetic when he has a crush? Beomgyu-yah~"

He tickles Beomgyu's chin to urge a response out of him, but Beomgyu yelps and tackles him by his arms - it's harder than one might expect, given that Soobin handles kneading dough on the daily, and Beomgyu obviously doesn't - but Beomgyu eventually finds his hand on Soobin's side and pokes him relentlessly. Soobin breaks out into a string of curses, far too poisonous for a story as light as this one.

He only lets go when his ears are pained from a series of blood-curdling screams. Soobin rolls down the bed and brings Beomgyu's comforter along with him, until he is all curled up like a turtle (with the softest shell on Earth) and his head pops out and he starts talking with a false sense of security.

"As I was saying!" His eyes are focused on Beomgyu's hands - good, he's going to sign with them anyways - "Whether or not Yeonjun can see colours now is not the most important thing . What matters is - yah, can you please put your hands down - what matters is you're happy spending time with him. So don't worry, okay?"

Beomgyu nods hard enough to make both him and Soobin believe he’s convinced. “Good,” He shuffles off the floor, and it is then when Beomgyu finally realises that this hyung has been sitting on a book he’s been reading in bed. It must be warm now. Gross.

He crosses the threshold between Beomgyu’s bedroom and their tiny corridor, before peeking back in.

“Do you wanna share the leftover japchae with me?”

He lifts himself out of the comfort of his bed.

🌸🐯

Beomgyu is one sentence away from breaking down and a typo away from falling apart. But three days shy of summer break, he manages to hand in the final major assignment of the semester, just an hour before it is due. The feeling of clicking the submit button is parallel to a huge rock being lifted off of your chest - suddenly you can actually breathe, and not think of anything else. For a while, at least. Before next semester starts. But we don’t talk about that part.

He stretches and feels the tension dissolving from his arms; after the initial sigh of relief, he can suddenly float.

Cracks sound from his neck and Taehyun turns to look at him, eyes even wider than usual.

“Did that come from you?” He gasps, “That’s scary, hyung.”

Beomgyu sits up immediately - it didn’t sound like anything to him, but he still looks around the student lounge, embarrassed. He feels a touch on his forearm.

It is Kai, who’d decided to join their study session after his last lecture for the day. He is sitting on a bean-bag he had dragged from somewhere else, playing a game on his phone for the past half an hour.

“There’s barely anyone here hyung, you’re okay,” He says. Beomgyu relaxes his shoulders. “Does this mean you’re all done?”

“Everyding’s done,” He smiles gleefully.

“Great! Taehyunnie, are you done? Let’s go get lunch!”

Taehyun pushes his laptop to a close - horrible habit of his, to never shut down the poor thing - “Yeah, Kai-yah. I was just doing the stuff given for our break.”

Leave it to Taehyun to finish his work before the break even begins, Beomgyu muses.

They leave the pent up stuffiness of their bean-bag chairs for the cool summer paths of the campus. Taehyun mentions his boxing classes, Beomgyu and Kai both wonder how one human body can support good grades (as an engineering major at that), a social life, adequate sleep, extracurricular activities, and so many hours on Naver. Taehyun waves off allegations of him being extraterrestrial, and tells them he’s made of magic dust instead.

They collectively slow down as they pass by the performing arts building.

“Is Yeonjun-hyung free to join us, you think?” Kai reaches for his phone. Yeonjun doesn’t pick up. “Isn’t he free on Wednesday afternoons..?”

“-dancing these days,” Taehyun explains, which stops Huening from hitting the dial button. “I see him leave our apartment building really early. Something about a competition in the dance club he’s been working on.”

“Hyung ib combeeting?” Beomgyu asks.

Yeonjun has never yet mentioned anything about him competing with any of them, except maybe Taehyun. Beomgyu wonders how Yeonjun handles it - co-captaining the dance club, adding to the already strenuous practices he has as a dance major. Does the boy ever stop dancing?

Maybe he is made of magic dust too.

“He told me he’s just training the junior members for it,” Taehyun says.

“Hyung’s always so hard-working,” Kai comments, which Taehyun has to repeat in order for Beomgyu to understand, as he was caught up with the flashing images of Yeonjun dancing in his head, so fleeting it fashioned frames into fluid animation. “Sometimes, I think I get tired just seeing how hard he works.”

Beomgyu agrees. It had been his first impression of the boy, too - dancing so vibrantly his shadow resembling a wildfire, so overwhelming and too much for the average person to comprehend - he was weary from it; afraid, even, that his soulmate is someone so out of reach. Because who would ever sink their hands into raging flames?

(But that had been three months ago; Yeonjun, as it turns out, is one of the loveliest, most down-to-earth people that he knows).

“Well,” Taehyun ponders briefly, “He’s always been like this. When it’s something he’s passionate about, hyung puts everything he has into it. I’m half-convinced that dancing is his sleeping.”

“Maybe hyung is magical too,” Kai jests. Beomgyu snickers in agreement, feeling the sun bashing its rays onto the tops of their heads; it is finally warm enough for summer. He can cook an egg on his head, if he tries. “Taehyunnie, which part of Seoul did you two come from again?”

🌸🐯

They have lunch in a low-key Japanese place by the campus, where Soobin and Kai frequent. It serves authentic homestyle dishes with roasted green tea to match, and Soobin joins them at the very last minute, much to the delight of the owners. The Choi Soobin phenomenon brings them a plate of homemade wagashi that the owners wave off as service. They look too good to be handed off for free, Soobin tells them.

“You, your boyfriend and your friends are all so skinny, eat more,” they insist, “Take it, or we’ll give you more.”

“Huh? Is- is that a threat, ahjumeonims?” Soobin sputters, confused but bowing profusely anyways. “Thank you for always taking care of us.”

They discuss the nearing summer breaks, and reminisce on their childhoods many summers back. At some point, Beomgyu’s eyes grow tired from the lip-reading, so he and Soobin hold an impromptu sign language lesson - they sign the hellos, thank yous, the river and their names, the cold of Beomgyu’s tea washing down into a bubbling warmth in his chest. Taehyun chooses his name in sign - something similar to how one signs magician, a sign which even Soobin hadn’t learned until then. They sign the things that are around them, and Beomgyu thinks of the things that are not - his parents who have been so excited for him going home, the luggage lying open in his room that he still hasn’t packed, and Yeonjun, who had asked for a picture of their lunch. Soobin sends him a picture of emptied plates, and Beomgyu imagines Yeonjun pouting like a duckling.

Is still cooped up in the practice room, he wonders. Will he remember to take his lunch, and his dinner?

He takes his phone from the table.

hyung, have you eaten yet? remember to have lunch :

Yeonjun answers a minute later, with a picture he has taken of the dance team and their takeaway lunches sprawled across the dance room’s floor. Is that even allowed?

Hip-hop YJ

: Yeah, I’m having lunch with the dance club.

: Your friend Hyunjinnie is with us too. He said hi.

: Are you worried about me, Beomgyu-yah?

: Hyung feels so happy~

Yeonjun sends him a sticker - Yeonjun and Kai both love stickers, he has learnt. It is of a silly calico cat, with giant, leaping hearts in its eyes. He has seen this in their group-chat more times than he can count, but Beomgyu still holds a mouthful of air in his cheeks as he replies to him, like an angry little pufferfish- oh, wait.

Yeonjun would do the exact same thing.

He sends him a sticker too, but it’s a bunny dumping another bunny into the bin. Soobin had accidentally sent it to wish his teacher happy birthday long ago; it is actually the reason why he no longer uses stickers.

He feels a pat on his back. Judging from the size of the hand, it’s Soobin. He looks to his right.

“Who’s that? Soobin questions and signs. Beomgyu signs Yeonjun’s name, it seems the rest of their table of four understands as well. He smiles when Taehyun’s eyes light up - as if he has had a little eureka moment just from understanding Yeonjun’s name. How cute.

He focuses on Soobin again, and his moving fingers.

“No wonder your expression was so weird,” Soobin comments. “Like a constipated clown,” He continues, eyes looking up as if scouring the nooks of his mind for something obscure. “Wait. Is there a sign for constipation..”

Beomgyu would smack him right away on a normal day, but he decides to be kind today and smack him when they’re back to their apartment later, when Soobin least expects it. Only because Soobin has stuffed an entire mochi into his mouth. It’s common for the elderly to die from choking on mochi, or so he’s been told.

(Someone please remind him Soobin is only three months older).

They talk for a little while longer, as if to make up for the lost times summer break will bring along with it. Beomgyu melts into bed as soon as they’re home, and his luggage remains unpacked and empty.

That’s not the last time they’ll see each other, of course. Because by Friday evening they are once again all gathered in Soobin and Beomgyu’s apartment (the unspoken but established meeting place, at this point), with fried chicken and cheap beer in their arms like peace offerings for the mess they will surely make later on.

Yeonjun arrives a little later, sporting the loose rainbow coloured plaid he was wearing when Beomgyu first saw him more than three months ago. The night ages with time measured solely by the movie and the cans of beer they have drunk - Yeonjun stops at a healthy two, Taehyun and Kai are simply unphased by alcohol, so God knows how many they have had, and Beomgyu limits himself to one, because Soobin with his shitty tolerance is at his fifth and between the two of them, somebody’s got to be responsible for their early train tomorrow.

Taehyun leaves at eleven, and Soobin is clinging onto Kai by the time the clock strikes twelve. Beomgyu slips his sneakers on hastily and offers to send Yeonjun off, to which the older responds with a fond chuckle, his pace slow as he waits for him to catch up to him.

The end of June is marked with the songs of crickets from the nearing evergreens.

“Yeonyun-hyung,” He calls, his head all fuzzy with feelings. Yeonjun turns back to him, his eyes attentive and inquisitive.

“What is it?”

He lifts his phone to Yeonjun’s eye-level.

This semester has been fun because you were in it.

Thank you for being my friend, Yeonjun-hyung.

He sees Yeonjun reading his words again, a smile growing on his pretty lips. He laughs, his hand lifting to ruffle Beomgyu’s hair, gentle and fond. "Thank you for being my friend too, Beoms. Is there anything else?"

Beomgyu shakes his head, and the weight of Yeonjun’s hand leaves and suddenly it feels far too empty.

“Then I’ve gotta go,” He says, hand snuggling back into the pocket of his denim shorts, "I’ll see you after summer, yeah?”

A simple exchange of goodbyes later Yeonjun disappears into the underground station. Beomgyu stays a little longer, enjoying the breeze of nighttime Seoul. Strange, he had been so afraid when he first came to the city - a day after turning twenty, bags in tow, boarding the train alone, leaving home - but Seoul now feels like happiness, scattered like wildflowers all around. The bunggeo-pang stall by the flyover, the bus stop in front of the bookshop, the record shop by the baker's.. in all of Beomgyu's memories, never once has he been alone. There's always someone by his side. Wasn't that what he had wished for, all those months ago?

He smiles. How freeing it is, to have so many moments where he feels as if he belongs, like everybody else. He wishes for more.

The moon has shied away into the clouds when he walks the short journey home. He gets pear juice and painkillers for Soobin too - God knows he will need it tomorrow.

When he returns home, Soobin is slumped but tucked into his bed and Kai has left him a silly goodbye note, stuck on the round of his cheek.

Love you, jagi-yah. I’ll see you in August

Beomgyu huffs fondly, taking a picture before leaving for a quick shower. He’ll show Soobin tomorrow morning.

🌸🐯

“I really shouldn’t have drank that much..” Soobin groans, rubbing his eyes as they stand by the platform. Beomgyu's holding onto his shirt just in case the boy walks a few unwitting steps forward and.. falls. His eyes are a staggering red, and as much as he had so desperately tried to lessen the swell of his face, he still looks a lot more childlike than he usually is.

Beomgyu taps on his cheek lightly. It bounces back. So, so soft. Like fluffy Japanese cheesecakes.

The older looks at him, his gaze very slowly landing on Beomgyu’s hands.

‘You think you’ll feel better by the time we’re home?’

Soobin blinks dully. Taking a good second before he responds - “I hope so. Eomma’s gonna kill me if I don't... My grandparents are coming over for lunch today.”

Beomgyu raises his brows. ‘Yikes,’ he silently tells him. Soobin nods grimly. Shutting his eyes tightly to combat the pounding in his head.

An announcement bell rings from the PA system, and while Beomgyu couldn’t tell what it’s saying, people are beginning to crowd closer to the yellow line, perfume and coffee and breakfast sandwiches lingering stronger. Soobin holds onto his wrist, gesturing towards the oncoming train, whistling sharply as it comes to a stop. Yeonjun had once joked about Daegu only having tractors; Beomgyu is tempted to pull him over right now. But he digress.

The view of Seoul flees to make way for smaller towns and sprawling hills, heading southbound. Soobin takes another painkiller before he passes out in his seat, leaving Beomgyu to take in the sights for himself - tunnels tinted so orange it feels sticky on his skin, greens of thriving camphors and oaks and alders; the blue of a cloudless sky. He pulls out his headset from his bag, relishing in the gentle thrums and beats of songs against his ears as the train moves on.

Hours after that, he arrives at the entrance to his home to find his parents outside the gate, beaming as Soobin’s sister waves him goodbye, and he leaves her car - his mother pulls him into an all-familiar hug, wearing the same perfume she’s always worn, and his father still sports the same rough stubble; the same silly little wave but a tad more enthused. On his shoulder is the family bird who climbs onto Beomgyu’s arm like he’s a human tree. He sports a loose bandana, bright cyan with yellow bananas all over. It looks like the sheets of his kiddy bed; perhaps his grandmother has finally found a way to reuse it.

He feels a pat on his back.

‘You’re finally home, Cookey,’ his father signs with a big grin across his face. ‘And taller! Since when did my boy grow so tall? Even taller than appa already!’

Beomgyu smiles, his heart feeling so full, to be back home. To see his family in a whole new light, colours flooding in to replace black and white.

Oh, right. About that.

He takes a deep breath. The sun is baking the top of his head, and his parents are urging him to go in, we'll talk more inside, the air-con is on for you, and they look puzzled when Beomgyu stops them both.

‘Wait. Mom, dad, I actually have something to tell you.’

🌸🐯

“So. How did they react to the news?”

The younger sighs.

It's been four days since Beomgyu’s parents found out about the whole ordeal, and presently, Beomgyu finds himself sitting on Soobin’s bed as the older’s working away on his computer setup, downloading a game his internet friend’s been rambling on about.

‘They told me it’s like my life is a drama,’ Beomgyu recalls. ‘They said it’s exciting. They placed bets on when Yeonjun-hyung will find out. Said Yeonjun-hyung is so handsome, like he’s an idol.’

Soobin breaks into laughter. “Coming from your parents, is it really that surprising?”

‘I just thought that they’d be overly-worried about it. They tend to do that, you know.’ Beomgyu explains. ‘They also told Inbeom-hyung, and he placed a bet too!’

Soobin swings from his desk’s chair, sporting soft summer hues and their highschool’s sports shirt. If he turns to his back, a large, faint stain should still be there - courtesy of Beomgyu, a wet painting, and a newly-mopped corridor, two years ago.

“They’ve heard of Yeonjun-hyung from you, they know he’s a good person,” Soobin tells him. “It’s probably entertaining for them to wait, more than anything. How much was the bet?”

Beomgyu narrows his eyes. ‘Is that how you feel also, hyung?’

“No comment,” Soobin smiles cheekily. Beomgyu narrows his eyes even further; Soobin looks to his curtained window.

“Oh yeah. Wanna go get ice cream at the store?” He adds, as if offering him an olive branch or a distraction, “I think I saw them restocking your favourite ones today. My treat.”

‘Of course it’s your treat. The ahjussi there always gives you a discount.’

“You’re right. Sometimes I feel really bad for being so handsome.”

Beomgyu pretends to cringe.

🌸🐯

A bag of fish tofu and frozen sausages sways carelessly in his hand as he makes his way back home, the sole of his shoe kicking along a playful pebble.

A sweet, faint scent lingers in the air. It’s familiar, and his line of sight flutters gradually upwards like the nearby butterfly - over the beige brick walls, the hedges, the seesaws and swings and slides, and an almond tree, greeting its guest underneath with a fall of its leaf; his old elementary school, emptied for the summer.

The bag in his hand stops swinging, and another leaf lands unnoticed on his hair.

The school almost looks the same, if not for a fresh coat of paint. If he looks a little closer, he will see a pentimento revealing itself beneath the cream and green walls - faint outlines of the old mural by side entrance’s corridor, marks on concrete floors left by a moved-away table… the third window to the left on the second floor was where he used to sit, two tables all to himself. No one wanted to sit with the deaf boy in class; sitting with him will make you deaf too, they used to say.

For a moment, he thinks the bench by the almond tree still holds the weight of a boy, alone, feet tucked beneath his legs as he looks out to a lively playground. He is toying with the sleeves of his clothes, in shoes that look too clean and polished for a child his age.

The almond tree above them serves as a landmark of the school - tall and mighty, abloom with white almond blossoms in early spring, right when school begins.

It would rain petals on his head, and his notebook, as if welcoming him right under its branches. Petals turn to leaves, to husks of almonds when September comes. Different classes would make it a mini PE-class event - shaking its trunk and hoisting harvest poles until almonds land in heaps onto makeshift nets and tiny hands. The almonds themselves were bitter, so they would be honeyed and sweetened right after. Almonds represent change and courage, the nice cook used to tell them, so after they eat the almonds, they will all grow braver, and a welcoming change will soon appear in their lives.

Yet, everyday stayed the same.

Beomgyu so wishes to kneel down in front of the boy. To tell him the almonds' magic worked just a little late. Tell him all about the future, about friends and their silly, lovely soulmate. They will be around you so much sometimes you wish you're alone, and your heart will feel so full, he'll tell him. Sometimes you'll wonder if it's real - you'll pinch your cheek at night, you'll bite your tongue when no one's looking. But it's so, so real, and you'll just have to believe me.

Ice cold rivulets of water slithers down his calf, pulling him away from the almond tree and its empty bench. The fish cakes and sausages have thawed, he realised.

Well, at least he's helped his mother defrost them, he reasons, the bag swinging as he turns to face the street. The sky has begun to golden, he should probably head home.

🌸🐯

Beomgyu doesn't know if he will regret this, but it's too late to think about regretting now.

He's sitting on the chair of the local salon, feeling the snips of scissors and the ticklish towel around his neck. His hair that falls in locks and strands all over the patterned floor.

He hadn't told anyone but his parents that he's cutting his hair. He could say that it's a sudden decision, but he knows it's not - he has had the same style since forever, no rhyme or reason to it other than the fact that his ears would be covered. He never liked his hair. He's always wanted them shorter, in some other style.

So, despite the voice in his head telling him he'll regret it, that his hearing aids will be visible and everyone will take one look at him and know he's deaf, and they'll stare, and he will hate how it looks in the end - he books himself an appointment and drags himself to it before that same voice can say anything else.

Heat blasts from the hairdryer. It sounds like how cotton candy feels in his hands. The hairdresser asked if everything sounds the same for him - an innocent albeit useless question, seeing as Beomgyu has nothing else to compare his hearing to, but Taehyun had once told him he'd read that for some, it sounds like everything's a room or two away, muffled and shapeless. So he told her that instead.

She then tells him her nephew's deaf, and she wants to learn how to sign with him, and so Beomgyu spends his haircut teaching her the basics.

They manage to finish the alphabet when the lady dries his hair one last time, revealing curly waves to his short, layered hair. "So handsome," the lady compliments. His ears turn red.

Thank you, he writes to her gratefully. I like it a lot.

"Much better than before?"

Beomgyu nods. The lady beams, admiring her work before she faces the mirror again, removing the towel around his neck.

"Good. That's the most important thing."

🌸🐯

"You cut your hair!"

'Does it look okay?'

"Do you want my honest opinion?”

'Come on, hyung,'

"You look like those tiny little teacup poodles."

'Soobin-hyung…'

"I'm saying it looks cute, Gyu-yah. It’s a compliment."

🌸🐯

Soobin had been giddy about it since summer began, with Kai coming over to Daegu.

It isn't Kai’s first time coming here (that would be last Christmas, when Beomgyu had first met the boy), but nevertheless, Beomgyu has been following along with Soobin’s building excitement all of July - counting down the days, stocking up on Kai’s favourite treats, washing the extra sets of blankets, booking tickets to E-World… It is quite endearing, how Soobin sometimes panics at the slight possibility of forgetting something. By the end of July, it’s as if Kai is already a permanent fixture in Soobin's house.

First of August, and Soobin's mother makes flat dumplings, teaching them the ways to pinch the skin all sealed and pretty-looking.

Twelfth of August, he happily joins Soobin as they scour through the supermarket, pacing through the baking aisles at least half a dozen times. Soobin brought an empty recycling bag with him, large enough to probably cradle a toddler, and fills it utterly with a terrific assortment of baking paraphernalia, most of which Beomgyu can’t even name. Why do cake flours exist when all purpose flours are, well, all purpose?

They help Soobin’s family with grocery shopping after that, and Soobin so dutifully pulls out another smaller recycling bag out of the larger one. Like a Russian doll, Beomgyu thinks. Soobin turns around from a wall of capsicums, arranged like a traffic light-

“GYU! We almost forgot the candles!”

Both bags are so heavy Beomgyu feels the floor quaking with every step he and Soobin takes, his free hand spinning struggling circles like makeshift propellers, or cries for help. He feels himself making what must be a guttural sound. He wants to shower.

Thirteenth of August, they make a cake. Well, it's more like Soobin making a cake while Beomgyu watches six feet away, since Soobin does not trust him with kitchens. He finishes the last of his assignments the same evening, gives himself a pat on the back, wishes Kai a happy birthday, and passes out immediately after.

Fourteenth of August, a little after noon, their group chat is filled with pictures like a story told in reverse - two bowls of naengmyeon, with the blurry shape of Soobin’s hand and chopsticks; a cityscape of Daegu bathed in sunshine; the train station’s silhouette, and Kai beaming right in front of it; one of Kai’s tinier plushies, looking out a whooshing train. Then, there's a bowl of seaweed soup, the birthday messages… Taehyun explaining how fishes sleep, Yeonjun asking if fishes can sleep. A video of a wide-eyed fish, unblinking.

In the evening, Kai is treated to a barbecue party at Beomgyu's backyard, him and Soobin's families chatting joyously over grilled meat and marinated crabs while they light up firecrackers and bury their hands into the cooler, Kai scarily unphased as the others all scream in agony at the freezing, numbing pain.

Soobin brings out Kai's birthday cake later that night, and Beomgyu watches warmly as he blows the candles, cuts decisively into the penguin shaped cake, and smears buttercream onto Soobin's cheek.

Even amongst all the vibrant, messy sounds, his heart floating in serendipity. He closes his eyes, and everything sounds like home.

Tomorrow he will feel this again. Tomorrow, and the tomorrow after that. He opens his eyes to Kai's bright laughter, a hand-shaped smear of buttercream on his face.

🌸🐯

They are on their way back to Seoul, two days before August ends.

Soobin is thankfully a lot more sober this time, trying odd looking snacks they encountered in some random vending machine. They pass through a tunnel, marmalade on their skin, and when light washes marmalade away the low mountains framing Daegu warps into plains and lakes and farmland. He feels a knock from across their shared table.

‘Homesick already?’ Soobin asks lightheartedly, only signing so as to not disturb the sleeping passengers around them. ‘We'll be back for chuseok in three weeks.’

Beomgyu shakes his head, snuggling back to his seat. ‘I’m actually excited to go back to Seoul too.’

‘That’s good,’ Soobin says. ‘I think this summer’s the best we’ve had so far though.’

Beomgyu smiles. ‘We usually just do nothing. Of course this one’s different.’

‘Right. You were always busy with cram school,’ Soobin signs, ‘And I had to work at my sister’s place. Sometimes I kind of miss those days too.’

Summers came painstakingly slow and passed at a snail-like pace. This summer flew like a bullet train. March to June felt like yesterday.

‘Would you go back?’ Beomgyu asks.

‘Back to highschool? Hell no,’ He sees Soobin laughing softly, dimples etched deep into his cheeks, ‘I’d rather see the future or something. How about you, Gyu-yah?’

Beomgyu fidgets with a cup sleeve, slightly torn in the corners as his fingers crease and fold on its shape. They speed through empty fields, all blurred into a big green blob as the train chases the sun. Summers ago, everything was a flatline. This summer, however…

‘I passed by my elementary school back in July,’ He tells Soobin, ‘And it made me think. How much things have changed.’

Soobin ponders for a moment.

‘In what sense?’

And Beomgyu thinks, too, arranging words like building blocks, until the tower of shapes becomes a cohesive sentence.

‘I had no friends, you knew that,’ He signs. The boy across from him nods along, attentive. Beomgyu continues as Soobin takes a packet of crisps from his bag. 'But then I switched middle schools. Then you came along. Then through you, I met Hyuka, Taehyun, Yeonjun.. I have all of you now. Everything changed because of it, and I’m really happy now. So thank you, hyung.’

Soobin’s lips curve into a kind, gentle smile.

‘What is this all about, Gyu-yah?’

‘I just want to be nice, and thank you,’ Beomgyu sits up, head leaning against the cold windowsill as he pouts. ‘Anything wrong with that?’

Soobin laughs endearingly. ‘No. Nothing at all. I’m just happy for you.’ He looks into Beomgyu’s eyes in earnest. ‘Thank you too, for being a good friend.’

‘The best friend?’

Soobin huffs, avoiding his inquisitive eyes.

‘Whatever you say, Gyu,’ He answers. Beomgyu takes that as a yes, triumphant, settling comfortably back to his seat as Soobin pulls open a packet of crisps, bright green reflecting his face as he peeks curiously into the bag, looking at Beomgyu again with an awestruck face.

‘Gyu, look at this. It’s like they really juiced a whole forest in there,’ He gasps. Beomgyu sits up again, and Soobin shoves the contents of the bag into his face.

Holy shit. It is highlighter green.

‘Hyung. What the fuck did you buy?’ Beomgyu flips over to read the packaging, all Japanese sans the teeny tiny line of English translation underneath.

“Vegetative chips,” Soobin reads, so softly Beomgyu focused on equally bright green words instead - how it assures its consumer that it’s made of vegetables, with four exclamation marks more than necessary. Soobin nudges him.

‘Good to know it’s made of vegetables, right?’

Beomgyu bugs his eyes. ‘Hyung. It’s going to put us both into a vegetative state.’

‘Do you miss Yeonjun so much you’ve somehow gotten his sense of humour too?’ Soobin narrowly avoids a nuclear crisp into his mouth as he ducks to reach for his phone.

‘Yah, look at the group chat. Taehyun’s asking to meet up for dinner tonight.’

The train makes a sound, and it gradually slows as the little light lights up at its upcoming station’s name. Passengers begin to stir awake, and Seoul - Yeonjun, Kai, Taehyun, and the memories he’s yet to make - is only two stations away. He rests his head against the window, feeling it's thrumming as it leaves the station for the next.

This summer, Beomgyu finds himself looking forward to the summers that have yet to begin.

🌸🐯

When they return to their apartment, it is to the floors coated with a thin layer of dust, and the kitchen void of any sort of food, and one giant cockroach strategically resting in the space right in front of the bathroom sink.

They mutually panic, for a while. Then they shut the lights to the bathroom and rock-paper-scissors to wedge a towel in the small crack underneath the bathroom door, cleans the rest of the house, and goes out for dinner.

Kai arrives hours later, fresh out of his shift at a pet store. He picks up the little thing, bids it farewell, and flings it out to the alleyway.

They clapped.

🌸🐯

“Taehyun-ah,” Soobin mouths, “Are you sure he’s home?”

The elevator seems slower than usual with the four of them and a large helium duck balloon packed in there. It’s shaking, and making noises, apparently, because Kai has an arm looped tightly to Soobin’s, and his sleeve is a hair away from touching the icing of the cake in Soobin’s hands.

Taehyun replies promptly. He mentions something about how Yeonjun lives directly above him, and him singing and rapping in the shower, and the weary, grumpy lift finally cranks to a stop. He feels Kai breathing a big sigh of relief.

Beomgyu pokes his head out the lift. Spots an empty, Yeonjun-less corridor, and gives a thumbs up. They tiptoe so lightly the sound-triggered lights remain closed. Why are they tiptoeing? No one knows.

Arriving at the entrance to Yeonjun’s studio apartment, Taehyun scours for the keys from his pockets as Soobin hands him the cake. “You do the honours,” he tells him as he fishes out a lighter from his bag, lighting the unlit candles one by one-

A loud pop. Kai screeches. The lights blink open. Everyone turns.

“No! Our duck!” He whisper-shouts. It is absolutely counterintuitive, but he’s got the spirit at least.

Beomgyu feels a gust of wind hitting the side of his face. They all turn again, back to face the now opened door, revealing the birthday boy with his now pretty blue hair and a pair of reading glasses perched on his face.

Yeonjun blinks.

“Kai? Was that you-”

“Surprise..?”

Yeonjun’s eyes land on the cake in Beomgyu’s hands. His eyes widen, as if in a sudden revelation. Beomgyu panics, raising the cake closer to him.

“E-eabby birf-ay, Yonjun-hyung!”

Yeonjun stares wordlessly at the cake, then Soobin and the lighter in his hand, then Taehyun with a duck hat, then Kai, the massacred balloon, then, at Beomgyu. He bursts into a laughter fond and bright.

“All of you. Seriously…” he pries the door open even further. "Come in, quick, before my neighbours come out thinking someone got killed."

🌸🐯

"It's been a while since we've hung out like this," Yeonjun tells him as they stroll along the busy street late September, shopping bags in their hands. "You looked really nice in that fleece jacket you tried on just now, Beomgyu-yah. How about we go back to get it after this?"

"-ure," Beomgyu replies. The mission now is to look for a place for a break, and Yeonjun spots a dessert café by the corner, nudging the younger boy towards its direction. He perks up at the idea of sweets.

Yeonjun had invited him to the shopping district two days ago, in need of a new sweater and Beomgyu's company. He agreed easily; he hadn't been shopping for clothes since forever ago, and with the change of seasons, he figures it's prime time he gets himself something warm for the colder weather.

The last traces of summer's heat has dissolved into something much milder, with cooler winds and gentler, cloudier skies. Yeonjun sports a white jacket, much like the one Beomgyu is currently wearing, and his mind so cruelly reminds him of all the times Soobin and Kai have worn matching colours too (All the time. Coincidentally or not. They will somehow match whenever they're together).

They step foot into the café, the mess of noises outside replaced with something much softer, almost silent. There's a record player by the counter; a Bill Evans Trio vinyl spins lazily in its case; Beomgyu is tempted to place his hand on the speakers.

He feels a gentle squeeze on his wrist.

"What do you want to order, Beams? They have so many things to choose from. Tell me what you want,"

Beomgyu looks around the rows of cakes and crumbles, before he manages to type with his free hand, the mont blanc cake looks nice.

"Isn't it? It's perfect for autumn," Yeonjun points at the cake next to it. "-at one looks so good too. The opera cake. How about we share them?"

He agrees happily with a nod. Yeonjun snickers, nudging him to walk forward to the counter. A lady with pretty pink hair takes one look at Beomgyu, before asking Yeonjun on the drink he is to order. A familiar feeling lodges itself into Beomgyu's mind.

"Iced americano?" He sees the staff repeating. "Would you like to order dessert too, sir? I recommend trying the fall-themed desserts. They are time-limited."

Yeonjun responds beside him. All the while, Beomgyu notices quietly, she hasn't even acknowledged Beomgyu was there. And he dearly hopes he is just overthinking things.

But then…

"-would your friend there want to drink?” The lady asks Yeonjun.

Beomgyu presses his lips together.

Ah.

He turns to Yeonjun, who's beginning to look confused.

“Excuse me?”

Next to him, he can vaguely hear her repeating the same question.

Beomgyu swallows the sigh in his throat as Yeonjun turns towards him, eyes puzzling for more than an answer. He points awkwardly towards the menu on the wall. Yeonjun blinks.

“Matcha latte..” he answers reluctantly.

The older turns back to Beomgyu, and Beomgyu is nodding just to let him know he’s right, but his tongue tastes bitter before the drinks have even arrived.

“Does your friend want it iced?” She continues looking at Yeonjun. He frowns, brows knitted into a troubled expression.

“That-" he stammers, a bit in disbelief, “Sorry, but shouldn’t you ask him instead?”

“-noticed that your friend is deaf. It'll be easier if I ask you, since you can talk," she tells them wantonly, as if hearing and talking are all the same things. Yeonjun’s face turns sour, almost at the brink of being angered. Beomgyu tugs on the hem of his shirt. The staff repeats her question.

"I don't know. How about you ask him instead of me?" Yeonjun gestures towards him.

The lady finally turns to Beomgyu, speaking louder than before, exaggerated, more difficult to comprehend, too - "Do you want it hot, or iced?"

"Iced," Beomgyu tells her. She seems briefly stunned. Embarrassment coils in his stomach. So many eyes.

She asks another question, something about some foam, even louder this time as if she is afraid Beomgyu might not understand her if she doesn’t tell the entire cafe what he is ordering. Beomgyu grimaces, pulling out the phone in his pocket once again and scanning through his notes, until he finds it under the ‘outside’ category.

He waves lightly in front of the staff for her attention, lifting up his phone so she can read the words displayed on his screen.

please, you don’t have to talk any louder. it’s easier for us if you just speak normally.

i may not be able to listen as well, but i understand what you’re saying.

i’ll appreciate it if you treat me like any other person you meet.

She reads his words, before her face matches the pink of her hair as she mouths an apology, ashamed. "I'm sorry, I didn't think.."

"Idz o-kay," Beomgyu answers shortly. He feels a familiar hand coming to his shoulder, a thumb circling in a comforting motion. He wants to shrink.

Eyes follow them as they find an empty booth at the corner of the room. Yeonjun's eyes are brimmed with worry, as soon as they're seated.

🌸🐯

"Are you okay?" Yeonjun asks. Beomgyu hums, and nods, his expression hidden away as he types on his phone.

"Sorry, Beomgyu-yah, I didn't expect her to treat you like that. Did I make you uncomfortable when I asked her to talk with you instead?"

i'm okay, hyung. don't worry too much, it happens.

you did the right thing. she made me uncomfortable, not you.

let's try the cakes now, hyung.

Beomgyu offers him a fork with a small smile on his face, and Yeonjun takes it wordlessly. That's it? That's all he's going to say? It's okay?

This has obviously happened more than once if he has it written in his notes. But what made it worse was the fact that Beomgyu wasn't angry, he didn't look angry at all - he just looked sad.

Yeonjun was curious enough to look over and read his words when he could, when Beomgyu was listening to the lady's apology - I’ll appreciate it if you treat me like any other person you meet, it read, and Yeonjun looks with guilt biting in his chest as Beomgyu slices the cakes into bite-sized pieces, bringing a piece of the chestnut cake towards Yeonjun's lips, his waiting patiently for his hyung to take it.

He shakes his head, and Beomgyu tilts his as he looks at Yeonjun.

"I'm sorry, Beomgyu-yah."

"Hyung-"

"I'll be honest and say it, because I think you deserve to know this," A part of him aches when Beomgyu widens his big, round eyes. If he looks closer, he can pick apart the fear laced between his pretty lashes. Beomgyu is so terribly pretty, isn't he?

"You did nothing wrong, I promise," He assures him. "It's me who was wrong, because.. when I first met you, I remember thinking.. I thought that I could never be close to you."

Beomgyu's eyes are downcast, lashes shielding his eyes. He lifts his phone towards Yeonjun, eyes almost pleading.

is it because i'm deaf?

He breathes.

"..Yes. It was," and Yeonjun crumbles when Beomgyu averts his gaze, shuffling quietly back into his seat, the fork left abandoned in the awkward middle of their table. He reaches for his hand, brushing on it the lightest way he can. He is biting on his lip, Yeonjun notices, he's barely holding onto his phone anymore..

"Let hyung explain, Beomgyu-yah."

Beomgyu looks back at him, uncertain and waiting.

When he first met him, the first time it had just been the two of them, he looked at him the same, too.

He remembered thinking he looked so small, sitting there by the corner of the convenience store that storming spring day.

Thinking back, he wouldn't even have noticed him had he not called his name; a boy like Beomgyu deserves better than that, yet his first impression of him was that he can't ever see himself being close to him, by virtue of their differences. Beomgyu will just be a friend of a friend; a kind dongsaeng who'd treated him to coffee. Kind, quiet, but playful when he wants to be. The very shy boy with a pretty grin, whom he always seems to come across.

Because he is deaf, he was afraid he would hurt him unwittingly - so the most sensible thing, then, was to believe there's a barrier between Beomgyu and him. A barrier he won't ever break, because Beomgyu is not normal, is he?

"I thought we'd never be close because we were different," he tells him, his hand reaching to settle on top of his, "I was scared I'd say something that would hurt you. I was worried because I just.. didn't know how I should be, around you."

His eyes slowly shift to Beomgyu, stopping just below his eyes.

"But then we talked in the convenience store, then you told me about you, then you gave me a name, then we did all of those things together.. you make me so happy, you mean so much to me, and I was wrong, and very stupid. I…" he stops. Beomgyu's eyes are looking at his, surprised, almost, if Yeonjun can describe it.

"-I've placed this wall between us without even knowing it, and I'm sorry for how I thought of you-" his heart drops when Beomgyu hides his face with his sleeve, "-are you crying?"

The boy makes a sniffling sound.

"Yah, Beomgyu-yah," he pushes himself out of his seat, rushing over to Beomgyu's side of the booth and wrapping his arm across his back. "Hey, look at me. Can you look at hyung?"

He doesn't respond, but there is a brightness casting onto the white of their clothes, from right beneath the table. He moves his thumb in tiny circles on Beomgyu's shoulder.

thank you for telling me that.

i was worried you'd say something else.

i'm happy, hyung. these are happy tears, i promise. don't worry.

do I really make you happy?

Oh.

Yeonjun laughs softly, stammering, relieved, as Beomgyu wipes his tears away. How on Earth did he end up meeting such a tender-hearted soul? He pulls away just to pull plies of paper napkins from the table, and Beomgyu takes them all, stuffing them onto his face. He chuckles dotingly. How cute is he?

He takes the phone resting atop of his thigh.

You make a lot of people happy, Beomie-yah. Maybe you don't notice it, but you do. It's just something you're born to do.

Can you look at hyung?

The boy runs his sleeve across his eyes again for good measure before looking up to him, the rims of his eyes red and his nose a tiny bit swollen. His eyes are round and misted over with tears, with flushed cheeks to match. He can break someone's heart with just that face.

"Aigoo, Beomie-yah…" Yeonjun smiles, his thumb wiping away the last bit of wetness on his cheek, "Don't cry, tiger, you're okay," he takes the fork with the big chunk of opera cake, lifting it to Beomgyu's lips. He takes it wordlessly, his cheeks soon puffy with the treat. God, he breathes, Beomgyu's adorable.

While Beomgyu, too used to smaller bites, struggles to chew on the mouthful of opera cake, Yeonjun takes the phone left abandoned on the table.

Does it taste good?

Beomgyu gives him a thumbs up, still chewing, and Yeonjun laughs again.

You always make me happy without me realising it, Beomgyu-yah.

Does hyung make you happy too?

The younger boy nods. His hand reaches for the fork by the slice of mont blanc. He pushes a large piece to Yeonjun's lips, and he bites down happily, letting the chestnut cream melt on his tongue, light and sweet.

"Good?" Beomgyu asks.

"Really good. You try, Beoms."

Beomgyu forks another piece into his mouth. Whenever he eats anything sweet, Yeonjun muses, his eyes light up with a very obvious, infectious glee.

You were looking at the record player just now, he writes when the cakes are almost fully gone, can you hear the music here?

Beomgyu takes the phone

no. i wanted to feel it just now. what's playing, hyung?

Yeonjun perks up, spotting the record player at the far end of the place.

"They're playing jazz," he answers, suddenly more aware of the soft music in the background - piano, bass, and drums going high and low. "Have you heard it before?"

Beomgyu ponders, before dipping his head down to type his answer. He lets Yeonjun read it once he's done.

maybe i had. but describe it to me, he smiles shyly, i want to know why you like it, hyung. maybe i can feel it too.

Yeonjun feels his brows knitting together in deep thought.

"It's.. nice for relaxing? It's spontaneous, as in, there's no rules or a set structure to it. Just musicians, improvising with their own styles. So it will sound different every time, and I like that.." he questions him again, "How do you feel music, Beoms?"

He watches curiously as Beomgyu types a word, before going back to delete it, and when he peeks a little too close the boy shields the screen away from him altogether with a bashful grin.

Yeonjun has cleaned away the opera cake before he feels a pat on his forearm. Beomgyu has written a mini essay, it seems, and his ears are now a little red. He focuses back on the words on the screen.

i can't hear them like this, but i can feel the rhythm and pitch of a song with vibrations if i put my hand on the speakers.

i link music to things, and memories. that way, they'll always have a special meaning. appa used to play pop rock music when we drove around daegu. eomma plays korean oldies when she's cooking. soobin-hyung becomes super excited when IU's song plays. those are all special because they're what the songs mean to me.

"And now, when I think of jazz, I think of you, hyung, because you like it and it means something to you. And also cakes, and how sweet they are. The feeling I'm feeling.." he reads softly, his heart overwhelmingly full of warmth, "..that's what jazz will mean to me from now on."

When he looks up, Beomgyu has a look on his face, shy but winsome, and Yeonjun finds himself smiling. How can Yeonjun be okay after reading all of that? He wants to sink into the seat and hide and laugh into his hands to hide the flush spreading on his face. He types gingerly on the phone, and Beomgyu leans in to watch, but Yeonjun turns the phone away with a snicker and Beomgyu pouts defeatedly. When he allows the boy to read it, though, he smiles in the most darling way.

I think they're starting to mean the same to me, Beomie-yah. All because of you.

They will go back to get the fleece jacket later just to end up with two matching cardigans.

🌸🐯

"Hyung," Yeonjun looks up from his laptop, plucking an earbud out of one of his ears.. Taehyun has stopped working on physics just to stare at him with a big question mark in his eyes. Is there something on his face?

"Do you really like physiology that much?"

Yeonjun pouts, glancing towards the notes on his laptop. "Not really... It's just a requirement for dance," he looks back at Taehyun. "Why?"

"You've been smiling," the younger replies. "You've been smiling a lot at your laptop."

"Oh. Was I?" Yeonjun sputters, before he attempts to laugh it off. "I'm listening to music. It's really nice, that's all."

"I never knew you like… 'coffee table jazz', so much," Taehyun narrows his eyes. Yeonjun widens his.

"How the hell do you even know that?"

"I can see what you're playing on Spotify here, hyung. We follow each other," he answers simply. Yeonjun leans back into his chair - he had genuinely thought Taehyun had somehow learnt some magic trick for mind-reading, and embarrassment floods his chest.

"Is that how it works?"

Taehyun, back to solving physics, simply nods his head and hums, allowing Yeonjun to burn in his seat.

🌸🐯

Beomgyu loves Thursdays. It's not a day many might like, but he does. There is only one class he is physically required to attend, and he can sleep in until late in the morning. What's not to like about that?

It's the end of class, three in the afternoon, and Beomgyu lightly slips his laptop into his bag, taking the time to pack since there's not much to do after this, anyway - just assignments in the library with Kai, then a quick dinner before he gets to play video games with Felix and Jeongin, both of whom he'd met through Hyunjin.

He feels a finger tapping on his desk. He looks up. His professor stands in front of him, and he pauses.

“Beomgyu-ssi, I have something to ask you,” she tells him. “It'll be just a minute.”

"Of -ourse," Beomgyu responds. But she has already pulled the chair before him towards his desk, and the air thickens with her perfume.

“Beomgyu-ssi, I’ve noticed your lack of participation in the recent group project your team was assigned to do,” She looks at him sternly, a hint of disappointment laced in her face, “Is there a reason you skipped it? You are aware that projects make up for a big percentage of your grade in this, don’t you?"

And Beomgyu’s immediately surprised, because he’s certain he had done it, every bit of his part in the group project - it was a slide presentation, one that he had worked so hard for, repeating his lines over and over again until he’d eventually recorded something he was satisfied enough to pass up, because he knew his tendency to slur or stammer his words might affect their grading… oh.

He hopes, again, that he is just overthinking things.

“But - I combleted id, -im Sunsheng-nim,” He answers slowly, just so he knows he won’t mumble as much,“Iz dere a mizdake?”

His professor frowns.

“Your name was not even credited in the project,” She tells him, and Beomgyu feels an aching bitterness biting the insides of his chest. “At this point, I hope it is a mistake, Beomgyu-ssi. You have been doing very well in this course so far. I’d hate to see you fall behind.”

“I..” Beomgyu breathes, “I -an ubmit the work. I -ave it wid me, Gim Sunseng-nim. Can id zill be wraded, if I show you myh work?”

The professor looks at Beomgyu for a moment, seemingly deep in thought, before she sighs.

"Beomgyu-ssi, if you can send me your work before this evening, it will be graded," she informs him.

He breathes a sigh of relief, thanking her with a bow. He was stopped, however.

"That's not all," She continues. "If the reason you were left out in the project is due to discrimination, if you've faced any sort of exclusion from your teammates-" Beomgyu bites the inside of his cheek. "Then you have my permission to switch to a different team. You can write to me about it; appropriate actions will be taken."

His nose sours, and he looks towards the floor.

He has been excluded more times than he can count. So much so he thinks he ought to be used to it by now. But this time, it was different because they were nice.

They were welcoming, when Beomgyu was first assigned into their group. They treated him like a friend. And though he wasn't close with either of them, he trusted them enough to not believe they would ever exclude him from anything. They are cooperative and do what's assigned to them, and they've managed to score wonderfully in a team-heavy class. Why would they do anything different now?

But they did. And, if they had - the thought gnaws at him, like a leech biting onto his skin - has he been something else to them all this while? A hassle? A liability?

His fingers fidget against his sleeve. He bows.

"-ank yew, -im Shunseng-nim,"

His professor taps him softly on his shoulder. He straightens to look at her once again; pity, pity, pity. He hates it. He buries his nails into the bed of his palm. He feels so, so ashamed.

"You can go now," She informs him. "Remember what I told you, and submit your work by this evening, okay?"

He bows again before leaving for the exit. Instead of the library, he heads back to his apartment. At least he remembers the passcode this time.

🌸🐯

"Is Beomgyu not here?"

Yeonjun scans around the apartment of the two. The living room, where it is just him and Soobin, and the tiny excuse of a corridor leading to the two bedrooms, doors ajar and dark. The narrow kitchen, too, lacks the presence of a certain Choi Beomgyu.

Desperate curiosity makes him stare at the closet space behind the sofas, too, and he thinks Soobin is definitely judging him, what with the look on his face.

He hasn't seen Beomgyu in a while. The boy has disappeared into nowhere overnight; he hasn't been active in their chatrooms, has not been bumping into him around the campus, and he hasn't been with Taehyun or Kai, either. Yeonjun has been worried, to say the least.

He first thought of waiting for Beomgyu outside of his lecture hall. Beomgyu does it with him and his dance practices, after all. But he received a message from Soobin after dance, asking him to finish a series of savoury pies he had made in bakery class. Not one to reject free food, he went.

With the intention of seeing Beomgyu too, of course. It's a Thursday evening; Beomgyu is always home on Thursday evenings. Yet here he is, empty plate with crumbs of crust, and Soobin and his revisions, and no Beomgyu.

Where else could he be?

"He's been holding himself hostage in the library these days," Soobin tells him. "He's studying for finals week there."

That makes perfect sense, until you account for the fact that, again, Beomgyu hasn't been seen anywhere else. Hasn't he gone out with Soobin early today?

"But it's almost eight."

"He told me he'll be back before midnight," Soobin tells him. He must have noticed the concern on Yeonjun's face.

"...doesn't the library close at ten?"

"Reading period, hyung," Soobin answers. "The closing time's extended to twelve. Did you forget?"

"I don't go there at all, Soobin."

"Oh, right," Soobin leans his head against the top of the couch. "He always does this. Sometimes he gets sick from it, especially now that it's winter. But after finals he'll hibernate," he explains, "kind of like a bear. He once slept for two days straight in highschool."

Yeonjun crosses his brows. "And no one's told him it's bad for him?"

"I did, more times than I can count, hyung," Soobin sighs. "I wish he can come back earlier. His parents have been worried too. He's actually so bad at taking care of himself, you know?"

One can more or less figure that out. Beomgyu has the most horrendous sleep schedule he's ever seen, has sugary gummies in his pockets, and barely eats enough of actual food. Yeonjun feels cold just thinking of it. Thank the Gods for having Soobin (with a mini pharmacy worth of supplements) as his roommate.

Though, when he thinks of the mountains of vitamins on the kitchen counter, and feels like shuddering also. Maybe it is good that Soobin has Beomgyu, too. They balance each other out rather nicely.

"Bin-ah," the boy looks at him. "What.. how do you think of Beomgyu?"

"How?" Soobin stops, hesitance lacing his voice. "Huh. I mean..."

"I think.. Do you want a short answer, hyung?"

"I'd like whatever you're thinking, short or not."

He sees Soobin tilting his head, contemplating for seconds more.

"Well..."

"You know how Beomgyu and I went to the same junior high and highschool?"

Yeonjun furrows his brows.

“Yeah, he’s mentioned it before. Why?"

Soobin acknowledges it with a hum, before his eyes are back to his notes.

"They’re both fancy private schools,” he tells him, his back fully sunk into the couch, “the kind where it's so expensive, you'll either have to be crazy wealthy or crazy smart to even imagine studying there."

"My mom teaches there, that's the only reason I could attend. And for Beomgyu, that's the only hearing school willing to cater to him in Daegu," he continues. His voice is different, Yeonjun notes. It sounds a bit bitter.

"Actually, no, cater is kinda generous,” he mumbles promptly after. “They allowed him in because his family could afford it. But, anyway."

"My mom was his homeroom teacher. She would tell me to talk to him; we knew a bit of sign, and she thought maybe that would make it easier for him to talk, or feel less isolated. So, I went up to where he had his lunch one day, and signed with him.”

Isolated, Yeonjun wonders. What a specific choice of words.

“It was so awkward, honestly,” Soobin laughs to himself, soft and reminiscing. “Don’t tell him this, even though he knows - at first, I thought he was an asshole.”

“Beomgyu?” Yeonjun blinks, asking just to make sure. “How?”

Soobin smiles.

“He didn’t even try to talk, didn’t even say thank you after I helped him when he was sick this one time. I had to run across the whole school, twice, you know, and missed recess,” he tells him, “I thought he’s just another one of those spoiled rich kids in school. Or he hated me, or something along those lines.”

“Really?” Yeonjun asks again. “I think Beomgyu thanks people too much sometimes."

For the smallest things too, he wants to add. Like simply being with him. As if that is something worth thanking for.

“Yeah, but he wasn’t like that back then,” Soobin shrugs. “But one day after school, he passed me a note. 'I want to thank you everyday but I don’t know how to. You are so nice to me, I don’t know how to repay you. I feel like I’m doing nothing for you, I’m sorry. But thank you, Soobin-sunbae.' I still remember it,” Soobin looks aimlessly at his notes, he's been on the same page since they had started talking.

“It was then I realised he wasn’t being rude. He was just... clueless, as to how he can accept kindness, if that makes sense.” "

“Anyways, I think that's all I should say," he shifts in his seat, straightening his slumped over posture. "You asked what I think of Beomgyu... I think he is a lot warmer and expressive than many people think. He just needs time, sometimes. He's still learning, but he's come a long way."

"Right," Yeonjun takes it all in, slowly. Soobin finally scrolls to a new page, and Yeonjun takes it as his cue to leave; the younger seems content alone, anyways. But one final question lingers in his head, and so he asks.

"Soobin-ah, what does Beomgyu think about me?"

A knowing smile reaches the younger's face. He shrugs.

"I don't know, hyung. He admires you a lot, that's for sure."

"He does?"

The younger nods, and Yeonjun feels a fond, bubbly feeling stirring in his chest.

"I'll go now. Thanks for the pies, Soobin-ah."

"Thanks for helping me finish them, there's more next week," he says in lieu of a goodbye. Yeonjun swings the front door shut.

There are tiny bits of snow on the pavement, and fog framing the lense of his thick-framed glasses. He thinks about Beomgyu for a little while as he walks. He wonders if he's hungry; he can't remember if there are vending machines in the library or not.

The sound of the automatic bell rings as he steps foot into a convenience store, the same one he had been in with Beomgyu all those months ago. He gets Beomgyu’s favourite bread, and two bottles of banana milk too, while he’s at it. The bell chimes and bids him goodbye when he leaves.

He takes a shortcut to the library, through thinner winding pathways scattered with fallen leaves and weeds, the lights above him casting stark, chaotic shadows on the uneven surface. His hands begin to grow numb from the cold, and the smell of kimchi jjigae lingers in the air. His mother’s cooking comes into mind, and he reminds himself to give her a call, later on.

A burst of warmth surrounds him once he finds his way into the library Beomgyu is in, crowded with students and smelling thickly of coffee, no doubt they are staying late to cram for the finals as well.

He spots Beomgyu occupying one of the cubicles, his desk messy with his laptop, a flurry of papers and pens, and the tiny case where he stores his hearing aids. Yeonjun recognises the diagrams on Beomgyu's screen; he has seen Taehyun studying the same thing for his Astronomy paper just hours prior. If he remembers, he thinks their paper begins overmorrow.

"Beomgyu-yah," He taps on the younger's shoulder. Beomgyu jolts; eyes bugged out in surprise when he sees Yeonjun right behind him.

"-yung?" He says, stunned. "You-"

Weariness clings to his eyes. Yeonjun lifts his hand to show the bag he is holding, the convenience store's logo stuck big and bold at the front.

Beomgyu looks confused as he reaches for his hearing aids, before being stopped by Yeonjun's hand tugging ever so lightly on his sleeve.

Yeonjun leans in for one of his pens, writing as tiny as humanly possible on the stack of stick-it-notes Beomgyu has left in his space.

I got you chocolate cream bread and banana milk.

Don't try to read hyung's lips. You look tired, Beoms.

Will you be leaving soon?

Beomgyu re-reads his words silently and pulls his phone out of the pocket of his hoodie, going straight to Kakaotalk and finding Yeonjun’s duck-framed icon. Yeonjun, in turn, takes out his phone too.

Beoms

: thank you hyung

: i'll be leaving in a bit. Don't worry about me

I'll stay and wait for you then. It's getting late :

Are you seriously okay? Your eyes are so red :

Beomgyu rubs his eyes hastily; when he faces him again, Yeonjun can physically see the blur in his eyes, misted over and his lips a shade or two paler. It’s staggering how much Beomgyu has changed between this week and the last. This can't all be from studying, can it? Yeonjun frowns. Is Beomgyu sick?

Beoms

: i didn’t do as well as i thought i would for midterms, so i've just been cramming here.

: i'm fine though!! i promise i'll go home soon.

: how do you know I'm here?

I asked Soobin. He told me you're here studying :

Beomgyu-yah, if you're too stressed or tired :

You know hyung will always be here for you, right? :

Even if we study different things, I'm here if you need anything at all :

Okay? :

He waits quietly for Beomgyu to read the chain of messages, watches as Beomgyu dips his head down to reply to him, his hair falling forward and shielding his phone and his expressions away from him.

Does his neck not hurt, constantly sitting like that? Or is he just getting too old to remember how it felt like to be young again? Yeonjun sulks as he rubs his neck tiredly, forgetting the fact that Beomgyu is only eighteen months younger than him. The muscles in his raised arm pull tightly, sore from all the dancing he has been doing.

Beoms

: thank you, hyung.

He reads the three words over and over again, waiting, because there are three ellipses peeking hesitantly through the corner of his screen and Beomgyu is biting on the bottom of his lips.

Beoms

: i’m just a bit tired

: something happened with my group in a class a while ago

: i'm in a new team now.. but they don't seem to trust me very much

: i guess i just really want them to know I can do it

: and i'm scared

: i don't want to feel so useless but i do and I hate it

: i don't know what i should be

Hey :

Hyung knows :

You work really hard, Beomie-yah :

But you don’t need to prove yourself to them :

With or without other people, you are more than enough, Beoms :

You don’t have to be defined by anything or anyone other than you. In the end, that’s what’s gonna bring you the most happiness, you know?

Upon reading his words, Beomgyu simply smiles. Though, it isn’t the smile he usually adorns, where both dimples are etched so tenderly on his cheeks. There is only a lone dimple this time, and it looks as if he has pried his own lips to a tired grin. In more ways than one, he reminds Yeonjun of a younger version him, and he begins to worry, then, because how can you exist if you are loved by anyone but you? Does your reflection have a shape, in that case? Is Beomgyu feeling the same, too?

Has Beomgyu found himself yet, is he happy with himself?

His eyes are on Beomgyu's fingers, and the messages popping up in their chatroom.

Beoms

: hyung is being all serious

: but i’m happy to have you

You’ll always have me. You have lots of people too :

Does this mean you’ll stop studying and take a break? :

Beoms

: i really want to. but i have to finish this by tonight. we have a paper on it in two days and i have way too many other things to make time for this tomorrow

: i feel like i’m being eaten alive by finals week

It gets better in second year, I promise :

Beoms

: that’s what they all say >:l

Because it’s true Beoms :

I’ll stay with you. I have things to look over anyways :

Before Beomgyu can even begin to protest, he pulls the chair to the empty cubicle next to them.

🌸🐯

Beomgyu had originally planned to stay until the library closes, with the amount of chapters he has yet to revise and notes much like chicken scratch before his eyes.

He knows it isn’t healthy - his parents had told him it’s bad for his health, his teachers had told him it would damage his eyes, and Soobin had told him he shouldn’t be so harsh on himself. Lots of scoldings over the years, much of which end up in nothing much changing; exam season will always end, after all.

There are times too, when he finds himself asking who it is he is doing this for - him, or someone else?

It’s as if he is constantly chasing his own shadow. When we were young, did we not believe our shadows would follow us all the way home? He knows his shadow runs for recognition he knows he should not need. It hungers for others’ acceptance of the sides of him he so wishes to be seen that it has forgotten whose body it was modelled from to begin with. It has aced exams, it has defied expectations, it has liked things it doesn’t like, it forces to fit into odd corners and shapes, it fears too often of being useless; Beomgyu grows weary, chasing after it. Sometimes he is convinced he has become a shadow himself, invisible and shapeless; for what is a shadow without a cast?

He thought he had gotten better at controlling these feelings. But it still comes to nip at him, at times. Like an insect bite that never completely heals. He supposes most things take time; perhaps this will someday pass, too.

There's a thud a thud on the table - it’s Yeonjun’s water bottle, and Yeonjun mouths a quick apology before returning to his own work, something hard enough to make him pout. His neck is tense and Beomgyu sees a tape patched somewhere close to his clavicle and probably down his arm, the ones that relieve muscle aches. Yeonjun should be home by now. Or somewhere. Yet, again, he has chosen to stay with him.

He thinks back to when Yeonjun had stayed with him that rainy day, and that time in May when he had took Beomgyu to get his piercings when he could have done literally anything else. He thinks of all the things Yeonjun has done for him, and with him. He feels his emotions feasting on him like a hungry caterpillar, gathering enough energy for its metamorphosis.

They work in comfortable silence and the occasional sips of banana milk. Beomgyu looks through his notes again, and scans over the tabs on his desktop and the notes he and Taehyun share. He manages to find a subtitled YouTube video about it with a bit of digging, and an hour later, he closes his textbook, and caps the highlighter that is a line away from drying. There is still so much left to do; it pains him to look at his to-do list, and the pain that has been pulling at his nape becomes bad enough that he shuts his laptop, wearing his hearing aids once again.

He turns to see Yeonjun, past the cubicle panel shielding his face, and finds the boy with his head in his arms, the rise and fall of his chest slow and certain - asleep and all too unaware of the gentle, timid hand millimetres away from his shoulder.

Oh.

His heart swells, flutters, and fears.

There is a pout on his lips - he even pouts when he’s asleep, Beomgyu hears his heart coo affectionately. His usually sharp features melt away into softness like this, and the library is still littered with people, but if Beomgyu looks at his soulmate - his pouty lips, the fall of his hair, the candlelit flame that is him - the rest of the world falls away, the cold that was within him disappears, and he is left with only him, and him, and all the words thawed and alive in his lungs that he so wishes to say.

If he breathes out, will they escape?

He follows the ebb and flow of Yeonjun’s breathing, the moon pulling Earth’s tides like a heartbeat. Like life, flowing through the first seed, its sprout, the first peek of a petal. A flower under moonlight.

Flower, what a blind man's word. Beomgyu had only discovered his own flower when Yeonjun had called for him - its distinct fragrance, its colours unique to only him; everything he had been too afraid to delve into - he wants to discover it all with him. Does he mind? Will that be alright? Beomgyu wants to write down a million things that now share a name with Yeonjun; the times when they are sharing an umbrella on a rainy day, the rainbow umbrellas casting their colours on his face when the sky is cloudless and far from grey. He wants to call it a word more potent than happiness, fold it like an aeroplane and toss it towards the moon and stars, with all hopes of it landing into Yeonjun’s hands.

Under the library’s bright, lifeless ceiling lights, Yeonjun is warm and aglow. He breathes, and a puff of air seeps out from between the gaps of his teeth.

He wants to draw their names in sand, far enough where the waves can’t reach, with all hopes of it turning sedimentary.

The timid hand lands softly on Yeonjun’s shoulder, so light it follows along his slow, steady rhythm. He draws little circles with his thumb, like the feel of dandelions. Yeonjun inhales deeply, his eyes struggling to blink themselves awake.

And oh, it is as if Beomgyu has been hit by a snowball, because slowly and suddenly, it sinks in that he is in love with him. He has fallen for all of Yeonjun like a man who knows not of mortality: he has fallen for his kindness, his compassion, his silliness, his flaws, his sense of humour which predates their generation; his fire and his sea.

“Hyung,”

He wants to tell him all of that, in a way that Yeonjun might just understand.

It scares him, how much emotions one can feel blossoming in one’s heart. How strong its epicardium must be to cradle it so gently and slush it so violently, all at once.

“Shit, I slept?” Yeonjun yawns, “What time is it now Beoms?”

“Almoz den,” He says, lifting both of his hands up as a gesture. Yeonjun looks taken aback, wakefulness quickly returning to his eyes.

"It's getting late. Let's head back? I'll walk with you," he packs everything he has taken out back into his backpack and stands up with a wince. Beomgyu follows, and the library around them has become ever quieter, the seats spun and emptied and the people all but left. The heavy glass doors swish open quickly, as if beckoning their last visitors to leave. Beomgyu feels the small gust of wind it gives out as they close back again. Yeonjun turns to him.

“Sorry, Beomgyu-yah, I can’t type to you with these gloves on,” He tells him.

Beomgyu shakes his head. “Iz fine, hyung. I’m fine.”

They walk along quietly, the streetlights drawing their silhouettes into one. The cold, fresh air has dulled his headache considerably, and Beomgyu finds himself imagining the bilious light as the one that is casted by the moon above them, soft and gentle and light like silk in its caress.

In Japanese, Beomgyu recollects silently, one can confess their feelings poetically by asking their love whether or not the moon is beautiful that night. Beomgyu, ever the idealist, had thought of it to be the most romantic thing. But he has also learnt in Astronomy that the moon and Earth are tidally locked - the time the moon takes to orbit the Earth is identical to the time it takes to spin in its axis, so nobody can ever truly see the other side of the moon on Earth; if one questions the moon’s beauty, do they take account of the hidden half of the moon as well?

He feels Yeonjun’s hand brushing on his forearm. He blinks his focus back to him.

“You’re thinking,” Yeonjun observes. “Is there something in your mind?”

Beomgyu bites the inside of his cheek, partially out of embarrassment. “Nod -eally.”

Yeonjun looks a second longer. “If you say so,” He says, holding his wrist, an inch away from his hand. “I’ll have to hold you though. You almost knocked your head on a pole just now.”

Beomgyu pretends to complain. For what, he doesn’t quite know. He just enjoys seeing Yeonjun’s smile whenever he does so. And the “cute,” that leaves his lips after that. And the dimples under his lips. Since when has these details been imprinted into him so deeply that he now anticipates them?

They walk a little further, until they reach the empty bus stop and its scarcely heated seats. Beomgyu tugs at one of the older's sleeve, and he turns to focus on him.

Beomgyu lifts his phone towards Yeonjun, a small smile on his face.

Yeonjun won’t understand the true meaning of these words, he is fully aware of that. But he wants to say it either way, if not for him then for himself. And for the fact that it is true, in more ways than one.

Hyung, the moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?

Yeonjun looks up, through the glass roofing of the bus stop - his eyes are sparkling now, how lovely - his pupils dart here and there, as if he is taking in all of the moon bit by bit -even the side he cannot see. Beomgyu smiles fondly.

“You’re right,” He can see Yeonjun responding, puffs of air escaping his mouth, “It’s bright. I haven’t seen it so bright in winter in a really long time. Almost like chuseok.”

Beomgyu hums.

“-you too,” He adds. Beomgyu turns to look at him again, the tug on Yeonjun’s sleeve a request for him to say it once more.

“It looks like you,” Yeonjun repeats without question, a slow, contagious smile spreading from the tips of his lips to the curves of his eyes. He chuckles at the sight of Beomgyu’s lost expression. “It’s so round, see?” He points, “It’s so round, just like you. It’s cute.”

“Hyung...”

Beomgyu cannot tell if that was a compliment or a tease, but the tips of his ears warm up anyways. Yeonjun has been calling him cute since the beginning of time and he has yet to get used to it. Will anyone ever get used to that?

“Is the moon yellow?” Yeonjun asks abruptly.

“Eh?”

“Is the moon seriously yellow?” Yeonjun asks again. “Back in kindergarten, they’d always tell us to colour the moon yellow, like the sun. Is it really? I heard the sun’s not actually yellow.”

Beomgyu laughs, and feels his breath condensing into puffs of steam. “Am I ye-ow?”

Yeonjun pouts. “I don’t know, Beomie-yah. You tell me.”

Beomgyu types giddily on his phone, tilting it just enough that Yeonjun cannot read whatever he is saying. He lifts his phone towards Yeonjun’s face once he’s finished: I guess you'll have to hurry up and find your soulmate then, don't you? Hyung will be in his mid-twenties next year~

He giggles as he shuffles back closer to him, only to back off with a sharp yelp as Yeonjun's hand goes flying directly for his thigh.

“First my hair, now the moon too. Just tell me about them, Beomgyu-yah, you're being unfair..” He whines.

Is he even aware of the meaning hidden between the gaps of his words? Beomgyu shakes his head, smiling hopelessly. “You loog laike -an-elight.”

“What?”

“-andle,” He says again, slower and clearer. Yeonjun looks equally as confused, but Beomgyu says nothing more; if he does, it will sound too much like an ‘I love you’, and he intends to keep that for sometime else.

“You say weird things sometimes, Beoms.”

“And hyung -alled me wou-nd.”

Yeonjun’s eyes bug out dramatically.

“Because you are? You are literally so round? Everytime I drink bubble tea I can’t even drink the pearls without them reminding me of you. You’ve ruined them for me,” He points at Beomgyu accusingly, and Beomgyu snorts.

A glaring light is spilled all over him all of a sudden, and when he and Yeonjun look towards its direction, they see the late night bus slowly coming to a stop. Their night comes to a stop too, as Yeonjun adjusts the straps of his backpack and stands back up. The doors to the bus folds open, and there is a gust of warm air hitting both their faces.

“Tell hyung when you’re home?” Yeonjun asks. Beomgyu hums. “It’s late. Sleep well, yeah? Don't study too much?”

“You -oo, hyung,” He says.

“If you don’t do it I’m not doing it too, just so you know,” He pats the top of Beomgyu’s head, ruffling them in a way that leaves Beomgyu wondering if it’s messy.

He shakes his hand off of his head and sees Yeonjun smiling, a small cloud leaving the seam between his teeth.

“Goodnight Beoms.”

“Goodnight,” He signs, “YJ.”

Yeonjun waves one last time, and when the bus has travelled far enough for Beomgyu to imagine pinching it, he leaves, walking in the cold of Seoul’s winter night.

🌸🐯

The door to their apartment swings open with a clear beep from their alarm, and Beomgyu is welcomed by the smell of his favourite ramyeon wafting throughout the living room, and Soobin greeting him, sitting on the floor of their living room with the bowl of ramyeon on their coffee table, his phone leaning dangerously against a glass of what Beomgyu assumes to be grape juice. He wonders if Kai had been here earlier. He glances towards their sofa. Soobin looks behind him curiously.

“What are you looking at?” He asks, signing along. “Is there something behind me?”

Beomgyu shakes his head. ‘I need to ask you something, hyung.’

“Me? What’s it about?”

‘How did you and Kai get together?’

“Huh,” Soobin eyes him curiously. “We decided to be together a month after we first met. He confessed, and really, you know how big of a crush I had on him. Falling for him is easy,” He quirks his head in a query, “You know this, though, so why are you asking?”

‘Nothing much. Just thinking.’

“Very suspicious,” He pauses whatever he is watching, and Beomgyu sits on their heated wooden floor. “Why are you sitting down? Is your butt getting too cold?”

‘You paused your video,’ Beomgyu deadpans. ‘I thought you had something else to tell me.’

“I just wanted the juice. But If you’ve noticed that, it means you have something else to say, am I right?” His voice heightens and trails at the very end, almost teasingly so. Beomgyu hates how he is right. They know each other too well for their own good.

“So, is this about you wanting to confess to Yeonjun?”

Sans Soobin’s addiction to baked goods (and his lifelong aspiration to either 1) find a man who can offer him a bottomless supply of breads and pastries or 2) do it himself, which is exactly what he’s doing), he can be a pretty good psychology major in another world, he muses to himself.

‘Yeah,’ He admits timorously. ‘I want to confess to him. Seriously.’

“Seriously,” Soobin . “What is a not-serious confession then?”

Beomgyu feels the tips of his ears turning embarrassingly warm.

‘Don’t laugh, hyung.’

“Why?”

‘Just promise me!’

“Okay..?” Soobin grabs his cup of grape juice, taking a sip of it as he watches Beomgyu-

‘I’ve confessed to Yeonjun-hyung today-’

Almost comically, Soobin stops drinking. A mouthful of grape juice puffing his cheeks.

‘-he ended up calling me round.’

Soobin chokes on his grape juice.

Beomgyu rushes to pat his back; okay. Maybe he should have thought better about the timing. Because Soobin is hacking his lungs out, and Beomgyu feels horrible.

“You- round?!” He shrieks in disbelief, almost laughing, if he wasn’t so shocked. “Gyu, are you sure? What the fuck?”

‘Don’t die! Let me explain!’ He signs frantically. ‘I kind of told him the moon’s beautiful and he said I reminded him of the moon and I asked why and he said it’s because I’m round but I only told him the moon’s beautiful tonight because the moon is beautiful but-’

“Wait, wait!” Soobin brings his hands to Beomgyu’s, chasing his arms until he eventually catches them loosely in his hold and Beomgyu stares at him wide-eyed, puzzled.

“You’re rambling, Gyu-yah.”

Beomgyu’s lips curl into an o-shape. “Oh,” He mumbles, his voice small and apprehensive. ‘Was I too fast?’

“No, it’s fine. I got the gist of it,” Soobin tells him, “The very anime confession.. and all that.”

Beomgyu feels his cheeks warming up. Soobin, of course, points it out.

“Aigoo, your face is red.”

‘Shush.’

“It’s funny how Yeonjun says you remind him of the moon after you told him it’s beautiful. Isn’t it cute?”

‘It is I guess-” Beomgyu smacks his wrist. ‘Hyung! You said you wouldn’t laugh!’

“And I’m not laughing!” He is obviously laughing. “I just think it’s cute! And kind of funny!"

"-oobin-hyung.."

"And you-" Soobin is still laughing at the expense of Beomgyu's embarrassment, bastard - "-you actually told him the moon was beautiful. You are so whipped, Beomgyu-yah."

"-ut- up!"

"Okay, okay-" he waves a hand around, "So you're going to confess to him again soon?"

‘Not now,’ he tells Soobin, ‘I don’t even know what might happen if I do.’

“With Yeonjun?”

He nods. ‘Won’t he reject me? Because I can’t prove I’m his soulmate unless he actually gets his colours?’

“Alright,” Soobin stops momentarily, seemingly piecing his thoughts together, “Let’s try not to think too far into this, the colours and everything else. Those will happen when they happen. For now, we focus on you,” He points at Beomgyu, “Because at the end of the day, it’s you expressing how you feel. Nothing else.”

‘Or I can just wait until the day…’

“Gyu-yah, you are not going to wait until he gets his colours,” Soobin scolds, “This is something you want to do because you love him. And,” He breathes in like he has much yet to say, 'If by chance this is actually how he gets his colours, if you don’t try, nothing will happen. Actually, whether or not you’re soulmates, if you don’t confess, nothing will happen.'

Beomgyu breathes in, taking in the smell of ramyeon and the diffuser in their living space.

'Okay. I'll do it. I'll try. I'll tell him.'

The other boy grins.

🌸🐯

Two weeks later, Beomgyu walks out of his last exam hall and sleeps for twenty hours straight.

When he wakes up, he sees Soobin with Kai, cuddled up on the couch and watching anime, and two messages from Yeonjun, eighteen hours ago.

Healingie-hyung

: Finals free!

: Are you free to hang out when winter break starts?

And another one, seven hours ago.

Healingie-hyung

: Lmk when you wake up, Beomie-yah.

🌸🐯

So, on the first day of winter break, he meets Yeonjun at a McDonald's, the midpoint of both of their apartments.

They sit by the large window on the second floor, the people below tiny beneath their eyes. Tiny specks of white rains down onto them and the small river by the street. It is snowing, and Beomgyu smiles without realising it, a chicken nugget still in his mouth. It rarely snows in Daegu, and he hasn't seen snow fall as heavy as it does now.

(He doesn't even notice Yeonjun next to him. Seoul's pretty snowfall adorns the window; he adorns the older boy's quiet gaze. There is a smile on Yeonjun's face, his hand numb from holding onto the iced coke for so long; he doesn't realise he's smiling, either. "Cute," he mumbles to himself. Before Beomgyu turns to him and his heart startles just a bit).

"The snow, it's really pretty, isn't it?" He stutters. "Do you like snow, Beoms?"

The younger boy's eyes stay on him just a second longer, before he takes out his phone, scrolling and typing nimbly onto their memo. Nine months with Yeonjun, he muses, and his thumb is already tired from all the scrolling through.

i love it a lot. it doesn't snow this much in daegu, but snow makes me feel happy.

"Does it?" Yeonjun chuckles. Beomgyu looks at him like how he looked at the snow. He wishes he can hear Yeonjun's laughter better, sometimes. "When you go back to Daegu, bring some of Seoul's snow with you. In a jar."

Beomgyu laughs. what am I gonna do with it, hyung?

"It's up to you. You can dump it right outside your window. Then when you look at it, it's as if Daegu snowed a lot," he says. "Or you can make bingsu- don't look at me like that before you've given it a try, Beomgyu."

that sounds disgusting.

"If it's fresh snow it's perfectly safe," Yeonjun shrugs. Beomgyu doubts that. Very much. "Or, you can do what I did when I was young. Just bring it everywhere."

Beomgyu quirks his head, waiting for the story behind that. Yeonjun begins the story with a gentle grin.

"I moved to California when I was nine," he recollects carefully, "it doesn't snow there, ever, and I was very sad, so before we moved - it was Christmas, so it snowed a lot - I took a small jar of snow with me."

and you brought it everywhere? Beomgyu asks.

"I did. I tucked it in the pocket of my backpack while we're in the airport. I had to carry my big water bottle all the way because of it. But," he huffs, "when I got on the plane, it was already melting."

He imagines a tinier Yeonjun, a jar of snow cradled in his arms, and the pout he must have had on his face; he melts a little inside.

"I cried, not because I was moving, but because of the jar of snow. Even in San José, I kept it in the freezer hoping it would become snow again. My aunt threw it away by accident, and I cried so hard."

it sounds like you cried a lot when you were young.

"I did. But I'd act all tough even though I had tears all over my face," Yeonjun tells him. "Did you, Beoms?"

Beomgyu recounts quietly.

i was a crybaby.

but i'd act like I wasn't crying, too. i thought crying didn't make a sound before i had my hearing aids, so i believed my parents must have had magic, because they'd always come to me when i cried. i thought, 'i was in the bathroom! how'd they know!' but turns out it echoed a lot.

Yeonjun reads his words carefully, before smiling. "Did you think it was embarrassing too?"

Beomgyu shakes his head.

not really embarrassing, i think i felt guilty instead.

my parents would worry so much when i cried. when i wouldn't tell them why i did, they would worry even more.

Memories re-live themselves in his mind, then - the door of their bathroom opening, the worry flooding their eyes, and appa's attempts at cheering him up - pulling out their bikes and taking him around the neighbourhood, to the ice cream shop and the hills to watch the clouds or the stars. Or the park, where they feed tortoises by the pond.

"Why wouldn't you?" Yeonjun questions. "Tell them why you cried, I mean."

One night when he was eight, he climbed out of bed, hungry and looking tiptoe into the kitchen to grab a biscuit from the biscuit tin. The door cracked open and he peeked with one eye through the slither of light -his parents weren't watching a movie in their living room, like they told him they would be - they were sitting by the patio, and eomma was crying into appa's arms.

It was because of him, he knew, because it had been parents' day in school and his parents had difficult looks on their faces after that. It was because he could not fit in; their son was an outsider who lied all the time about being anything but.

because when i was younger, he tells yeonjun truthfully, i felt guilty all the time.

i remember wishing to just be someone else, or something else. i thought if I was never born, maybe then things would be better.

maybe my parents would be happier too, with a perfectly normal son. then no one would have to mind me.

He was a clever child. He knew the difference between him and the other children his age as well. They didn't need to go to doctors, they didn't need hearing aids, and their parents needn't worry as much or spend so much on them. They wouldn't cry because of them. If he wasn't deaf - he remembered thinking, so many times, alone - the almond tree would just be an almond tree, and he would just be Beomgyu.

Stupid, moron, monster, mistake. He wouldn't be any of those things. He would try again. He would push himself off the bench and the almond tree's shade. He would play kickball and seesaws in the field, his shoes would be dirtied from mud and sand. He would be Beomgyu, and nothing would be out of place. A world like that; does it exist?

He feels Yeonjun's hand on his back, a soothing thing, his thumb running circles over his knitted sweater. The older boy has somehow scooted the stubborn bar stool closer to his. He wants to tell him he's okay now.

i felt guilty because i was sad. then i felt sad because i felt guilty. everyday felt the same. until I met soobin, and kai, and taehyun, and you.

when i moved to seoul i never expected to be this happy. sometimes i still don’t know what to do with it. everyday is different. i’m still trying to process it sometimes. i'm still working on not feeling guilt and i'm still trying to find myself. but i'm happy, i truly am. when i came to seoul i didn't know i was capable of being as happy as i am now.

He smiles as he brings the phone towards Yeonjun. Though, from how the boy reacts, he knows he has been reading as he was typing it. Yeonjun's hand moves to his shoulder, squeezing it in a gentle gesture of comfort. Beomgyu relishes it, the one-armed hug, and without thinking, he rests his head on the boy's shoulder, feeling the soft rhythm of his pulse on his neck. One, and two , and three and four and five. If he closes his eyes, he might be able to tell that it's quickening. But, alas, he is looking at Yeonjun's fingers on their memo, moving swiftly.

Hyung's so proud of you this year.

You reminded me of myself a few years ago, you know? I was busy trying to find who I was, too. What made me unique instead of just trying to be the best for everyone else. Because that was what they expected me to be.

You don't have to be the best, Beomgyu. But hyung hopes you can just stay happy. We find out so many things about ourselves when we're happy, right? We can make our own jars of snow. We can make it all pretty like a snow globe.

Beomgyu huffs an air of laughter, straightening his posture and taking his phone.

i'll put you in my jar of snow, yeonjun-hyung.

"I'll freeze to death in there," Yeonjun jokes. Beomgyu pouts.

you're lucky i'm not burying you alive in there.

you get one blanket.

"Wah, such a good host, Beomgyu-yah," he chuckles. "You're heading back to Daegu on Monday, aren't you?"

Beomgyu nods.

"I won't see you till next year, in March. But my internship's already started by then," Yeonjun tells him. A small squeeze, sour and bitter, grips onto Beomgyu's heart; Yeonjun never got to get his colours this year. Can they even share spring next year?

"Talking with you like this feels nice," Yeonjun continues. "They say you should talk about your year before it ends. This feels like that. Look there," he points out the window, to the garlands and the banners in Christmas colours. Though, Yeonjun probably cannot see them. Beomgyu takes a quick glance, before looking back at him. "It's almost Christmas already. This year went by quickly."

Beomgyu agrees with a (hopefully) soft hum.

"Back in January, fun fact," Yeonjun snickers. "I got a fortune cookie, and it told me I'll meet my soulmate this year. I was convinced it was accurate when I saw the flash of colours back in March. But," he shrugs.

"It's the end of December, unless a Christmas miracle happens, I don't think the cookie's gonna be correct."

do you think about your soulmate a lot? Beomgyu asks. Sour and bitter morphs into quick, fluttering rhythms.

"Sometimes," Yeonjun smiles. "I hope they are happy, that's the most important thing. I don't mind the wait."

You make me happy, Beomgyu wants to say. But instead, he tells Yeonjun this:

i'm waiting for my soulmate too.

The other boy looks puzzled. "But you've met him," he says.

I did. but i'm waiting for him to realise it. i like him a lot.

"That's," the boy leans back on his seat, "I don't understand that at all."

Beomgyu shrugs, smiling wordlessly. Snow begins to dwindle, light and gentle.

"Do you know-" Yeonjun starts after chewing the last of his fries. "-that researchers are still figuring whether our soulmates are the same in every lifetime, or different?"

Beomgyu nods. It's a popular debate with no clear answer. A mystery that can never be proved. If soulmates are different, why do some of them retain memories of one another? Why does déjà vu exist? If they are the same, what happens to the people without soulmates?

"What do you think?" Yeonjun asks.

i think, Beomgyu writes, that they're the same in every lifetime and half of all the worlds.

"Half of every world?" He leans closer, intrigued.

have you heard of how there might be an infinite number of parallel universes?

"Yeah, Taehyunnie mentioned it," Yeonjun replies. "They are made when.. a cat is put into a kinda poisonous box?"

Beomgyu laughs fondly. Yeonjun is so endearing when he's confused.

something like that. it's called a schrödinger's cat. when you put a cat in a box with a 50% chance of emitting poison, it'll be in a juxtaposition because the box only has a 50% chance of killing it. it's both dead and alive until we open that box, Beomgyu explains. but as soon as we open it, the juxtaposition turns into a result. but before we did that, maybe the world's been split into two. one where it's alive, and one where it died.

so basically, all possible outcomes of anything we do might have split the world into more parallel worlds.

Yeonjun blinks. "Did you learn that in astronomy?"

we did have a topic on it, but taehyun taught me the details.

The other boy smiles fondly, "of course he did," he says, before suddenly sitting up, as if in realisation. "Wait. That's why it's only half of those worlds?"

The younger hums. because between the juxtaposition of being a person's soulmate or not, two worlds have been made, and more worlds will be made from those two outcomes.

Yeonjun's eyes widen in comprehension. Before he frowns again.

"I have a question," he looks into Beomgyu's eyes, in the most serious manner. "Why a cat?"

no one knows.

maybe schrödinger hates cats?

"In some other world maybe I'm a whole different person," he muses.

in another world, maybe i'm a music producer.

"Do you think about it often?" He asks, "You, in another life?"

Beomgyu nods. i used to think of it a lot.

I thought, if i got one day of hearing, i'd make everyone laugh. i'd play my guitar. i'd drive around with appa. i'd make a song before the day ends.

in another world, maybe I'd be making music now.

"I'll dance to them."

you will?

"I will. If I'm still a dancer in another life," he laughs, "who knows, maybe I'm a king, or like, someone really famous… I think I'll recognise you if I see you though."

Beomgyu laughs quietly.

why, hyung?

"Well," he looks at the table. The many little people along the streets beyond it. Then he looks at Beomgyu, again. "You feel familiar."

Beomgyu doesn't respond, nudging for him to go on.

"Is that weird?" He chuckles. "You feel familiar. Like an old friend or.. someone I knew long ago. Maybe I've met you somewhere else, because.. that day, when you got your piercings, and we were walking to the bus stop, I was convinced I've seen you before. It feels like you've always been in my life. Or lives, who knows?"

And Beomgyu smiles, because he feels just the same, and he knows the reason behind it. We're always meant to meet, hyung. It's like I've done something in the past to be with you here. But he tells him this instead: i feel the same too.

Yeonjun continues to talk about all the different worlds, all the different possibilities, and Beomgyu reaches for the last nugget in the box..

He frowns.

my last chicken nugget is cold now, hyung...

Yeonjun looks past Beomgyu's shoulder, at the stray chicken nugget in the greasy box.

He grabs it and takes it all in one single bite. Beomgyu screeches.

"Hyung!"

"What? You say there are two outcomes in every scenario," he shrugs, smiling when Beomgyu throws him a glare, "in another world, you ate the nugget," he says, wiping his hands on the napkins. "You said you want to get Christmas presents for your parents right? Let's go. Have you seen the sink anywhere?"

They wash their hands with soap in foams, and once Beomgyu's gotten his revenge by shaking a handful of water onto Yeonjun (like a puppy after a bath, Yeonjun remarks), they leave for the wintery streets once again.

Dusk comes sooner with the colder air, and the skies have been painted a rich violet when they step out of the mall, gifts in hand. A gust of wind brings a healthy flush to Yeonjun's face, and they stand by a big Christmas tree, at least five Soobin(s) tall, clad in blinking lights and gilded ornaments.

Yeonjun's eyes are sparkling along with the lights as they admire the display. They look like stars, and in a city so polluted by street-lamps, neon signs, and aeroplanes, he is inclined to look at him even more. Like a distant star's glow, travelling so many light-years unbothered and undiscovered just to bump into Earth and appear visible in its sky. How special it is, to see him in this way; as a little firefly sent his way.

The metro station is a mere two minutes walk away from the Christmas tree. The platforms, too, are another four minutes away. That is the place they part ways, until spring comes again.

“Yeonyun-hyung,” He calls, his head all fuzzy with feelings. Yeonjun turns back to him, his eyes attentive and inquisitive as Beomgyu raises his hand to his chest.

Now, there is only a one in ten thousand chance Yeonjun will understand this, and Beomgyu knows it.

But it has been looming in his head for most of… ever, and he wants to do it before his confidence washes away and he is left with the what-ifs tomorrow again, when they will be a three-hour train away for the rest of the year. This can be a secret he keeps for himself, he thinks. For now. Maybe the next time he sees him, he will have the courage to confess his feelings out loud.

The older watches attentively, eyebrows furrowing as Beomgyu lays one palm flat, his other hand hitting the top of it. Thank you.

He points at himself, then at Yeonjun, before closing one of his hands into a fist and lying the palm of his other hand flat on his fist, circling on it like a merry-go-round; a small declaration of thanks, of love from the scattered words in his chest, aching to be fully defined; begging to be pieced like a novel; an intergalactic star cosmically astrayed but wishing to be bound. I like you so, so much, and I love you too, and I hope someday, you will say the same in earnest. I hope I will always be in your jar of snow, in the world that you know.

He’s thinking too far ahead; he breathes himself back where he is. For now, he takes in the way Yeonjun’s brows furrow, his expression puzzled and lost.

“What does that mean?”

Beomgyu grins, and shrugs.

“Guez, hyung.”

Yeonjun ponders for not a second more before answering- “Is that how you say goodbye?” He guesses. “Then, the other one - that means see you again, is it?”

“Maybe.”

The older breaks into a darling little laugh, one Beomgyu so wishes to hear. His hand is on Beomgyu's head, patting it so endearingly Beomgyu can't help but try to lean in.

“What is that supposed to mean?” “You’re acting kind of weird today, Beomie-yah. Anything else you want to tell me?”

Beomgyu shakes his head, and the weight of Yeonjun’s hand leaves and suddenly it feels far too empty.

"I'll have to go now," Yeonjun tells him. "Merry Christmas, Beomgyu-yah. Happy New Year, too. I'll see you next year."

Beomgyu tells him the same. Their trains arrive, and they are pulled further, and further away.

🌸🐯

The train back to Daegu is packed. More so than usual, now that everyone is clad in extra layers. Beomgyu has his puffer coat draped on top of him as a makeshift blanket.

They took the evening train. The view outside of the window becomes scenic the further south they go, snowy plains to marbled mountains, white and blanketed with snow. Against a violent pink sky, and a sinking orange hue. It reminded him of the same time last year, when Soobin brought Kai to Daegu and they hiked some hills to chase the sunset. How silly, Beomgyu thought. He hadn't even been able to admire sunsets then.

'I wish Hyuka followed us this time,' he tells Soobin.

'I know,' the older boy sighs.

'He still has to work at the pet shop.. the owners asked him to handle the shop til' after New Years,' Soobin signs, sinking a little further into his seat, 'I wanted him to visit too.'

'Last year was fun,' Beomgyu signs. Kai was so quiet when he first met him, until they started playing video games at Soobin's place. His laughter was so loud it sounded clear in Beomgyu's ears, and he was so innocent. It was cute to see Soobin bring his soulmate all around the city, and the shy grin on the younger's face whenever anyone called him handsome.

'It was,' Soobin agrees, poking a straw into his banana milk. 'Maybe I'll go back to Seoul for a few days in February, if my sister's place doesn't need me that much.'

They talk a little more. Halfway through Soobin's banana milk, the boy is fast asleep with the straw still wedged between his lips. Banana milk leaks and tumbles like waterfalls down his puffy jacket. Beomgyu wipes it all up, and when Soobin wakes up, he doesn't even question why he smells so strongly of bananas.

🌸🐯

Healingie-hyung

: Guys!! Happy New Year!!

Taehyunnie

: happy new year

: hyung, how does it feel to be in your mid-twenties?

Healingie-hyung

: Yah

happy new year ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ :

Healingie-hyung

: Don't treat your hyung like this!!

Happyfeet

: Happy New Year~

Healingie-hyung

: Which one of you liked Taehyunnie's message

Happyfeet

: Have any of you heard from Soobin-hyung?

: He hasn't replied to me

Healingie-hyung

: Yah Choi Beomgyu

Taehyunnie

: nope

he's still passed out, kai-yah :

his relatives came over yesterday :

they made him drink a lot :

Happyfeet

: No wonder…

: Are you guys all free next Thursday?

Healingie

: What's up?

why? :

Taehyunnie

: depends, but why?

Bunnybin

: What have I missed?

wah hyung you're alive? :

Bunnybin

: My phone kept sending me notifications…

: I'm gonna sleep again later

: Oh

: Happy New Year btw

: What's going on next Thursday??

🌸🐯

Next Thursday, they travel to Gangwon by bus.

For context - Kai asked if they were free for a trip to Gangwon, to the town of Hwacheon. His relatives abroad own a house there, but they weren't coming back for the New Year's, after some sudden change of plans - they offered to lend the house to Kai's family, and Kai took the opportunity before his older sister could. Which might explain why he was so urgently asking if they're free.

(I have three days off and I wanna go to the Hwacheon Sancheoneo Ice Festival, he told them, with a sticker of a kneeling penguin right underneath the text. I want to go with all of you. We can catch trout together! Please????)

(And who can say no to catching trout with this boy?)

They arrive at Kai's auntie's house, hidden in a quaint, cosy neighbourhood on the outskirts of town, a place one would look to escape to, nice and quiet. There is so much snow, too - calf-deep, in fact. Beomgyu has genuinely never seen this much snow in his life. His heart has been high on it the whole way here.

It takes the house a little while to heat up the space, but once it's warm, and there are mattresses rolled on the living room floor and clean sheets and comforters in the beds, none of them are willing to go and brave the cold.

"Come on hyung, my family used to bring us to this nice restaurant just three streets away-"

"Huening-ah, I love you, but it's negative nine degrees out," Yeonjun points out. A few steps away, Soobin is curled up in his futon, asleep and drooling - they had been travelling since seven this morning, from Daegu to Hwacheon.

"Then.."

Kai seems so excited to go out; it's understandable why a normal person would rather stay inside, but..

"-et's go buy inner, Gai-yah," Beomgyu chimes in. Kai immediately perks up like a sunflower in the sun.

"Oh, Beomgyu-hyung, you wanna go out with me?"

Beomgyu nods. It's fucking cold outside (as in, Taehyun and Yeonjun tried dumping a cup of boiling hot water out the window, and it turned into snow as soon as they did), but he also wants to experience all of snowy Gangwon has to offer. It's not everyday you get to see such a horrifically absurd amount of snow.

So they lace their shoes, put on their warmest coats, and waddle out like bear cubs facing their first rapid stream. They walk like penguins until it no longer feels so alarmingly, spikingly cold, and it feels like an adventure; some experience one will remember randomly, years from now - the snow, and the trunks of trees painted white, and the neighbourhood huskies poking their heads through fences with sharp howls and barks. It is all strangely serene, with Kai pointing at random places and telling Beomgyu what they mean to him.

"My aunt used to drive all of us to this place, right here," he gestures towards an empty lot, hands too cold to leave his pockets. "It was a big fresh seafood place. But my cousins and sisters all called it an aquarium," he reminisces. "Hiyyih was so mad when auntie cooked the fish we picked here."

Now, Kai has always been a rather private person, by virtue of character. He rarely talks about his childhood, always choosing to talk about the present instead. So Beomgyu feels honoured to get to know all of this; he's happy Kai is willing to share these to him, and the walk is much more pleasant like this.

They stop by two places - a busy restaurant, where they got takeaway chuucheon dakgalbi and mandu-guk with tteok, and steamed eggs, all packed into boxes and into a special bag, and the convenience store, because they sell fresh bunggeo-pang and they also need instant rice, among other things. Beomgyu hides away the hot fish-shaped buns in his jacket. They rush back home.

Back at the house, Beomgyu gets the simple joy of poking Soobin awake with a bunggeo-pang's tail on his cheek.

🌸🐯

He dries the large bowl that once held their mandu-guk. He can hear the hurried sound of water coming through the sink, and the squeaks of plates as Soobin sponges them clean.

"Hyung," he calls to the boy next to him. The squeaking stops, and Soobin looks at him curiously.

'Hyuka said there'll be a fireworks show at the festival tomorrow,' Beomgyu signs. Soobin watches as he continues to rub the stubborn stain out of the ramyeon pot, until it piles onto Beomgyu's growing pile of wet dishes. 'After we go fishing and all?'

He sees the older boy humming.

"Yep. What about it?" He asks.

Beomgyu stops to think, his pulse beginning to race.

'It's..' he faces Soobin.

'Hyung. What if I confess to Yeonjun-hyung there?'

"Oh?"

The boy beside him stops soaping the last pot, quite comedically, before he continues soaping the last few chopsticks. His dimples are showing.

"If you're asking me, it means you probably already have a plan in your head," he answers. "If you feel ready, you should do it. Don't worry, I'll-"

"What plan?"

Soobin jumps. They both turn to see Yeonjun, a towel draped across his broad shoulders. He had somehow managed to come out of the bathroom like a ghost.

'-othing!" Beomgyu chirps.

"You're so nosy, hyung."

"What? I'm just curious," he wipes his hair roughly. Does it not get frizzy? "I've never seen two people that suspicious while doing the dishes."

"It's nothing you should worry about," Soobin adds. Yeonjun tilts his head, unconvinced.

"I guess, if you say so..." he looks at Beomgyu. "Beomgyu-yah, I got us all blankets and pillows already. Tell hyung if you need anything else, yeah?"

Yeonjun always takes care of him (of them all) so well. The boy is so full of love and sometimes Beomgyu has to stop to truly take in all of it.

"-anks, hyung."

"You two better take a shower soon," he says before heading to the bedroom. Beomgyu looks for a clock around them; it is almost midnight. They had a bit of soju before this, and he feels so positively warm. The thought of a shower in this weather makes him dread.

Soobin nudges his shoulder once Yeonjun's gone. There is a slappable quirk in his mouth as he sings,

"Tell hyung if you need anything else, yeah~"

Fuck not wanting to shower. Beomgyu has never dried dishes quicker.

🌸🐯

The guest bedroom was where Kai and his siblings and cousins would stay in when they were younger. Evident in the fact that there are stickers scattered and stuck on the dressers, and neon stars all over the ceiling. Beomgyu, being the one who claimed the top bunk, is trying to make sense of them as if they are real.

The frame of the bed seems to creak, rumble, and Beomgyu rolls and looks down curiously.

Taehyun is curled up on the roll-out bed like a darling little kitten, enveloped in a ball of blankets with only his hair poking out. Yeonjun on the bottom bunk, however...

Beomgyu snorts.

Is he an octopus in his dreams? Or a monkey reaching for a faraway fruit?

He stares amazed at Yeonjun and his long, long limbs, half of them on the bed, the other dangling right on top of Taehyun. Is he going to fall? One minute he is sewing neon stars into constellations, the next, he is trying to describe the shape of Yeonjun's.. weird sleep positions.

He watches the boy and his acrobatics (out of amazement but also worry) until he eventually falls asleep.

🌸🐯

Yeonjun is assigned with a cruel task, and that is, to wake Beomgyu up.

Now, waking anyone up is easy in Yeonjun's humble opinion - he had shaken Taehyun, Soobin, and Kai awake before. Plenty more before them, too. It was easy. Sometimes he didn't even need to be physical, just a call of their name and the promise of food. But he is now in front of Beomgyu, all curled up in one big cosy lump of blankets and a plushie, and he cannot do it. He refuses. It is a crime. It's like waking a puppy who'd fallen asleep in your lap.

How can someone look this cute asleep?

The sleepy boy's nose is a little swollen, and his lashes are so pretty Yeonjun has an urge to run a finger through them. His hair, too - so soft, and so, so fluffy, and his lips are parted and with every breath he takes Yeonjun hates himself a little more.

He pokes the boy's cheeks. So cute. So soft. Fuck.

"Beomie-yah," he whispers. Very uselessly.

"Beoms, wake up..."

Can he take a picture of this before he has to wake him up? That's creepy, right? He swallows the intrusive thought into his stomach.

He pokes him again. Two times.

"Beomgyu-yah,"

The boy stirs, and Yeonjun immediately retracts his hand and stops moving, breathing, or surviving.

Beomgyu scrunches his nose. How is that cute too? This is too much. When the boy falls back asleep he shakes the blanket. Which is even more useless - the blanket is three fingers thick. He is practically just cradling the boy.

"Beomie-"

"Wow."

He turns to see one Choi Soobin by the doorway, toothbrush in his mouth.

"I'd fall asleep to that."

"It's harder than you think," he pouts. "Why don't you do it then?"

Soobin walks away.

Yeonjun turns his attention back to the slumbering cub on the bed. His heart is in all sorts of ways. He doesn't want to think too much of it. But he does.

"Beomgyu," he whispers, quietly, his hand shaking the boy just a little harder. He cradles his cheek, and the boy finally struggles his eyes open.

"Morning, Beomie-yah," Yeonjun smiles.

Beomgyu pouts, and Yeonjun feels a part of him falling apart.

"You have to wake up," he reasons. Beomgyu blinks slowly, eyes still heavy with sleep, "we're going out today. There's so much snow outside, don't you wanna go?"

Beomgyu most likely did not understand him, but Yeonjun follows him as he trudges outside, dragging the blanket with him with half-shut eyes.

He falls asleep again when they're on a bus to the festival, cheek pressed onto Yeonjun's shoulder. It's as if the cold has driven him into a state of hibernation, and Yeonjun quietly digs his phone out of his pocket, and finally takes a picture with the sleeping boy. His hair is so ticklish on his cheek, but Yeonjun can't find any will in himself to complain. Instead, he pokes into the drink Beomgyu had gotten him yesterday (his favourite, too. Beomgyu seems to know all his favourites). It tastes sweeter than it usually is.

Inside, he wonders how lucky it must be, to be Beomgyu's soulmate. Whoever he is, he gets to have this. He gets to wake Beomgyu up everyday if he so wishes. He gets to hold him like a habit, he gets everything... How wonderful that must be, isn't it? To have Beomgyu as a soulmate. He falls asleep so easily, and wakes up with a grumpy face. He holds onto sleeves and dances when he has something sweet. Every memory is vibrant with Beomgyu in it. But they are grey, grey, and grey.

He bites the bottom of his lip.

Suddenly, it feels wrong to look at Beomgyu like this. His hair is so ticklish against his cheek, and Yeonjun looks away, head against the cold window, watching the snow and the streets.

Beomgyu is just a friend. He will always be just his friend.

🌸🐯

The grounds outside of the festival is blanketed with snow, and it is terrifically cold, and horribly chilling, teeth-clattering, death-inducing, all of those. The winds are blowing through all five layers of Yeonjun's clothes and seeping into the crevices of his bones, and he swears to every God he knows, if Soobin does not get out of the toilet soon, he will tear open every warmer they've brought with them and jam them into his gloves and his shoes and maybe his underwear too, for good measure.

He sniffs. The air goes into his lungs. He hunches down.

It seems it is only him who is shaking by a statue of a snowman holding a trout, ghosts puffing out of his every breath. Maybe he really is getting old.

"Kai-yah-" he hears Taehyun's calling beside him.

Taehyun, hiding behind his back, looks with fascination as his iced drink literally turns into ice. He gives the bottle a few squeezes and wonders if it will turn to slushie. Kai sits next to him and watches, too. One might wonder if his pants are damp from the ground. Yeonjun shivers, looking away-

"Guys, look at Beomgyu," he points out with a laugh. The two youngest turn their heads towards the snowy ground.

Beomgyu is kneeled down and gathering snow into a snowball, rolling it with literal sparks in his eyes as it becomes bigger, and bigger, until it's big enough that he breaks into a terribly darling grin, and stacks it on top of an even larger snowball. He has made a snowman, and the excitement is so big he's running and skipping to find something for its arms.

Taehyun smiles, "hyung suddenly looks like a puppy," he says. "It doesn't snow much in Daegu, does it?"

Beomgyu turns to look at the three, and Kai points at the scarf around his neck. Beomgyu lights up. The brightest sparks have all decided to gather in his eyes, it seems..

"It doesn't. Maybe that's why he gets so excited over them," Yeonjun answers.

Kai waddles to the snowman, wrapping the scarf around it like a perfect bow. Yeonjun chuckles fondly.

"Do we have something for the face?" He asks.

"Oh!"

He sees Taehyun jogging to the snowman too. Beomgyu sticks two pebbles for its eyes, and Taehyun jams one bottle of iced tea to its head as its terrifically large nose. They find branches and stick them to its sides. Snow crunches and a camera clicks behind him; Soobin is taking pictures with an adoring smile on his lips.

"Soobin-ah," he calls, "why don't you join them?"

"It's too cold," Soobin answers, pocketing his phone back into his coat. "The snowman looks weird too."

He sputters his laughter. "It looks just fine to me."

"You should take a picture," Soobin looks back at the younger three. "When you get your colours, look back at this and tell me this doesn't look weird."

"I kinda wish I could see it now," Yeonjun muses.

"Who knows, maybe you will soon," Soobin tells him. The other three have now left the snowman alone (sans the scarf and Taehyun's drink, of course), and are walking back to where they are currently standing, next to the silly looking statue.

"Maybe," he repeats Soobin's words, a little hopeful and a little bitter.

Beomgyu is walking towards him, wearing a toothy grin and snow dusted all over his coat. He brushes them off when he is close enough; Beomgyu doesn't seem to care.

"Hyung," he holds his gloved hand, "-et-s go," he tugs, a bounce in his steps. Yeonjun laughs softly, and he lets the younger boy take him wherever it is they are going. (Not that he doesn't know, but if he doesn't think about it - if he closes his eyes and ignores the trout statues and banners and the big frozen river - it feels like a little adventure. Him, and Beomgyu, against a cold, snowy world). (This is definitely just friendship, right? Him and Beomgyu? It definitely is).

🌸🐯

Catching a trout, as it turns out, is a rather simple procedure.

They get lines with hooks attached, nets, and an odd little stick with the littlest shovel-like thing at the end. No one knows what to do with it, so they hand it to Soobin while Taehyun watches a YouTube tutorial on trout-catching. They waddle carefully across the frozen river (they are on top of a frozen river, Yeonjun realises, halfway towards their fishing spot - they are walking above water, and he feels rather powerful).

"So," Soobin's voice cuts him out of his sudden reverie. "We just stab a hole with the stick and hope for the best?"

"Yep," Taehyun answers. "Must be around the size of a fist. For the trout to fit through."

"So it's-"

Beomgyu pokes carefully on the ice. When it becomes apparent that poking wasn't enough, he stabs until it pierces through the ice and Beomgyu can feel the water below them. Yeonjun hopes to God this is what they're supposed to be doing. The other groups around them look promising, so why does he feel an impending sense of failure?

"And then I spin the stick, and we're done?" Soobin raises the.. stick with a mini shovel, and Taehyun nods.

"Yep-"

"AH-"

Kai slips and falls ass-first onto the ice. Yeonjun almost scrambled off from the impact he felt under his feet.

"The fishes are scared, Kai-yah!"

Soobin blinks, and looks up.

"I think I won't be scared of Kai's butt if I were a trout. I'd stop to admire it."

"SOOBINNIE!"

"HYUNG!" Beomgyu jumps, pointing towards the hole they have managed to dig out. A perfect circle, and Yeonjun, who has done nothing but be confused so far, is impressed.

"A hole!" Kai cheers. "Yeonjun-hyung, drop the hook into it!"

"Huh?" Yeonjun looks down at the.. oh, he's got the hooks in his hand. "-okay," he breathes, walking forward towards the hole on the ground. He wonders if he looks down, he may see the trout swimming beneath them.

He drops it, watches it sink, and Beomgyu watches with keen eyes as he and Taehyun tug on the string. To mimic a prey, Taehyun explains. Have the trouts not learnt their lesson?

He tugs, and tugs, and waits. The Hwacheon River stretches beyond his line of sight, all hung with banners and flags of snowflakes and trout. From afar, music blasts as people slide down slopes with rafts and sleighs, and the smell of food wafts from the big eatery set up by the stream. His stomach begins to growl.

Grilled trout sounds perfect right now.. sausages too. Maybe a corndog...

"Beomgyu said he wants to put his hand into the water," Soobin abruptly breaks his conveyor belt of thought.

They all turn to the two - Beomgyu, hitting Soobin by his forearm, and Soobin, taking the hit with a yelp.

"Yah, don't hit me! That’s literally what you told me!," he whines.

"I wanna try too," Taehyun exclaims. Kai joins in.

"If everyone's doing it then I'm doing it."

Seriously?

"I-" Yeonjun looks at Soobin. "What about you?"

"I just want to eat fish," Soobin says. Yeonjun pats his shoulder gratefully. Soobin has always been a man of few priorities. Thankfully, food is one of them. Food is one of Yeonjun's priorities, too. So.

"Soobin's right. We should keep fishing."

"Hyung.." Beomgyu pouts. God. Yeonjun is irked by how cute he looks and how he almost said yes to dipping his hand into freezing water. How all of that was spurred from the pout from one irresistibly adorable boy. He wants to slap himself.

"I don't-" he feels a tug on the end of the line.

Huh. Weird.

He's supposed to be the one tugging it…

Wait.

"WAHH! HYUNG! THE STRING IS MOVING!"

"HOLY SHIT!"

"PULL! HYUNG!"

He pulls the line and feels a satisfying weight struggling against it. One pull more, shoulders raised, and a perfectly shiny trout rises from the depths to meet the sun rays, before plopping down to the ice, flopping, and squirming. It looks like it's looking straight into Yeonjun's eyes. He shudders in the midst of mayhem.

Taehyun traps the fish. For a second, everything stops. Taehyun looks at them wide-eyed with adrenaline - what now?

Then the fish flops and Taehyun's hands shoot straight up and everyone begins to scream. Again.

"Get the fish, Bin-ah!"

"The fuck?! Why me?!"

"You wanted to eat it!"

"It's MOVING!"

"No shit?! That's what fishes do!"

Very (scarily) quietly, Kai lunges for the fish's head and holds it in place with his hands. The fish struggles in his grasp, before it is reduced to it gasping for its dying breath.

The boy lifts it carefully, almost snuggling it close to his chest, not unlike a newborn baby.

"Sorry, fish," he pats the trout's head gently. "You were a very good trout," he says.

"Hueningie-"

Yeonjun gapes as Kai subsequently throws the fish into a plastic bag. Then, after sealing it, looks up to the rest of the group with a smile.

He raises the bag up to the sky.

"We got our trout!" He announces with a beam in his eyes. The bag shakes violently; Yeonjun feels a little sorry for the trout, now that it's to be taken to the grill.

They walk the long walk to the big eatery, warmer and much different from the atmosphere outside once they've entered, with stalls by its sides selling all sorts of food and picnic tables lining in rows and taking much of the closed space. Taehyun looks for a table, Soobin and Beomgyu go around to order, and Kai jogs up to Yeonjun, hair bouncing and cute, the smile still on his face and the plastic baggie of trout dangling in his hand.

"Cook the fish with me, Yeonjun-hyung!"

🌸🐯

Trouty (Kai named it a minute before it was split open, because of course he did) the trout is cleaned out, sprinkled with salt, wrapped in foil, and sent straight to a charcoal grill.

Perhaps it's because it came straight out of a frozen river, literally as fresh as it gets; maybe it's because they caught it with their own bare hands. But it's the most delicious fish Yeonjun has ever tasted.

🌸🐯

Fish, Taehyun's half-successful slushie, an unspeakable amount of tteok, and two bowls of odeng guk later, they run (running makes you feel less cold, or so they're led to believe) for the slopes crowded with rafts, tubes, and sleighs. The festival has sectioned a large part of its land for games, and they try everything there is to be offered - ice soccer (Soobin sat out of that one), ziplines, and many tries of zooming down steeper slopes with tubes, and ancient ice-skating. Every minute seems worthy enough to be picked and stored as a memory. But if you are to ask Yeonjun to tell you the most memorable parts, he will tell you these:

1) They are on a raft, driven by a snowmobile at high-speed and taken on the sharpest turns and donut spins. They almost lost Kai and his phone, and everyone held on for dear life and collectively screamed, 'slow down', and 'I'm gonna fall', but the raft only goes faster and faster and faster, and then it stops, and everyone breathes, stinging cold air, and everything is exciting.

2) Ziplining through the river in the freezing cold. He can't feel his face, his nose, or his toes, but he is dizzy with joy - everyone is, laughing and cheering and high-fiving one another. Pure, unalloyed happiness, all around the air.

3) They walk across a bridge, towards the town where the lights and sculptures are set. The sun is setting, and Yeonjun has never seen sunsets, but he is walking right behind Beomgyu, and he sees the boy admiring the skies. Golden is a word that comes into mind. It's strange, because he has yet to see it, but Beomgyu fits the colour gold. His soul must be golden, and the sunset must be the most beautiful, and a part of him stops, and bitters, again, and wonders if there is something wrong with him. Because Beomgyu is admiring the sunset, and he is admiring him.

Daytime in Hwacheon is an ephemeral thing. The skies have darkened by the time they reach the town, thousands of lights taking and framing them in. Once again, Yeonjun wonders just how much he is missing out on. For the first time in a long, long time, he wonders where his soulmate is. Are they happy, are they close? Have the lights been displaying an image he just doesn't know exist? Is there a neon trout on that big, blinking wall of ice?

They explore the place thoroughly, until their legs are worn and stars have made themselves known in the dark night sky. Stars are rarely visible in Seoul, Yeonjun muses, resting on an empty bench. Light pollution usually eats them all away, but here, they are bright, and twinkling, and he wonders what is taking the others so long; last he heard, they were getting hot chocolate.

He feels a tap on his shoulder. He jolts, but settles down when he sees the familiar face.

"You're back, Beoms," he looks at him. Beomgyu is fiddling with his sleeve. "Where are the others? Did you guys get hot chocolate?"

Beomgyu shakes his head. He pulls out his phone - his words, already written in their memo.

they're still waiting

can you follow me somewhere, hyung?

the fireworks are starting, and i want to watch them with you

Yeonjun blinks, and checks the time on the corner of his phone. "Oh,"

He wants to watch the fireworks. With me?

As in.. together? Just us?

He swallows. This isn't something he should agree to - two people, watching the fireworks while one of them is falling for the other, who already has someone else. They really shouldn't, lest he says something stupid or feels even more. But...

Yeonjun doesn't want to say no; Beomgyu does not deserve to be rejected just because he is thinking too much.

He stands up with a smile.

"Sure, Beomgyu-yah. Where are we going?"

They walk a full minute before Yeonjun realises that Beomgyu has never had a hot chocolate in his hands.

🌸🐯

Yeonjun actually agreed.

Beomgyu feels.. dizzy.

His heart is pounding through six layers of clothes, and he takes deep, freezing breaths because there is a lump lodged in his throat and he really doesn't want to lose his voice to his damned nerves.

They walk, and Beomgyu stops at a place on a hill; an observation balcony by a closed coffee shop, a spot he had discovered earlier. It's close enough for a short stroll where Yeonjun had squeezed his hand a number of times (was he so obviously nervous?) and a distance away from the centre of the festival.

"This is a nice spot," Yeonjun smiles. Beomgyu swallows. "Not as crowded as I thought it'd be."

Beomgyu nods. Yeonjun taps on his shoulder; he jumps, and worry immediately takes shape in Yeonjun's pout.

"Beoms, something wrong?" The boy asks, brows knitted. He leans in closer. "You've been so.. jumpy and quiet. Are you okay?"

"Mhm," he hums. "I- I'm o-kay, -romise."

"If you say so.." Yeonjun doubts. Beomgyu feels his arm settling on the metal railing. A soft 'thud' bringing chaos to his heartbeat. He doesn't dare look up.

Three minutes until the firework show begins. He chews on his lip.

"Hyung,"

Yeonjun’s shoes turn to face him. Beomgyu breathes. His fingers fidget with the mouth of his sleeves.

Now or never, before everything becomes too loud-

"I -ove you."

He looks at Yeonjun again, all the fairy lights in their world reflected in his eyes.

His eyes are starlit like this. His eyes reflect the sky above them and he wonders if he looks close enough that he can trace them into constellations. He wonders if Yeonjun listens enough, he can hear him screaming I love you I love you I love you I love you, over and over again. If he can see the stars that might be hidden somewhere in his gaze, too. If he can, like astrologists and philosophers and sleepless souls of old, fawn over them and give them names; this one's a rabbit, that, a deer, and that one looks a lot like love. We will name it after the Eternals and Divines; he knows he has named them after him.

And yet, Yeonjun is staring at him with nothing but confusion.

Beomgyu feels some part of him cracking. The thing crawls and crawls until he is afraid there is not a single part of him left to hold.

"Sorry, can you say that again?"

He begs his heart to still. He begs for many things. He closes his eyes and his world is colourless and silent and he begs for Yeonjun to tell him the exact opposite.

"I- I -aid," He takes a deep, deep breath, and it all comes out in a shaky cloud of mist. Please.

He points towards himself, then Yeonjun, then, he brings his hands together - one curled into a fist, the other laid flat, spinning circles on top of the other.

"I- rove- you."

Please, please, please understand.

"Saran..wrap?" He mouths, "Salami?" Yeonjun looks around, it is almost comical how hard his eyebrows are furrowed, solving some non-existent riddle. He wills his tears away with one sharp inhale of the freezing air; feels it stabbing in his lungs.

"Oh, people?" He finally reaches his final guess.

Beomgyu bites the inside of his cheeks, defeated, and nods along.

He wants to hide his face in his jacket and his heart in the snow.

"Yeah, there's not that many people around. Why?"

Beomgyu also wants to hit him. But the first firework whistles from afar, leaving a ringing sound. The blaze of fireworks lit up his view. Yeonjun turns to look at them, Beomgyu stops to look at him.

Vibrations come like tiny explosions in Beomgyu's ears; colours swarm his vision, painting Yeonjun's skin all purple and blue and gold. Yeonjun is captivated by them but Beomgyu is both heartbroken and enthralled by him. It’s remarkable how much a person can make you feel. The colours are so terribly garish.

Yeonjun turns to him, pointing at the biggest firework. "Beomie-yah, look at that one. Looks like a rose doesn't it?."

Try as he may, Beomgyu cannot read his lips as well when everything is so loud. But he tries, and a part of him is torn between crying and laughter when he realises what Yeonjun had said.

A rose?

He wants to tell Yeonjun the firework was green and looked nothing like a rose. He wants to tell him it looked more like a brussel sprout. He wants to pull his hand and yell at him. Yeonjun-hyung, you're such an idiot. I'm right here. What else can I do to make you see that?

There is so much more to say than that, too. But for now, Beomgyu stands quietly still, eyes on a display that's up and gone, leaving the once starry sky with trails of fog and smoke. The smell of leftover sulphur burns in his nose.

Moonlight shines upon Yeonjun's faded blue hair like the moon does to the seas, rolling waves and pulling ships. Such a bitter thing reality is - of all the currents and the change of tides, of every wreck and smooth-sailings with him, Beomgyu thought they would have found that thing the one-in-ten-thousands before him have found by now.

And a nagging thought nips its way back into his chest, like a bug: what if Yeonjun isn’t actually his soulmate?

Maybe he doesn’t have one, and this is all just some big mistake. The universe is endless, and humans have inhabited it for two million years. There must have been a handful of unlucky people like him, right? That one in a billion, maybe? There has to be. The thought of that makes his shoulders heavy; has he been carrying too much of hope, all this while?

Or, a kinder part of his heart whispers, maybe today's just not the day. Maybe just a little while more. Tomorrow, the next week, someday. Just not today.

The thought is both comforting and upsetting.

I want to go to bed, he thinks. He pulls out his phone, his fingers stiff from the cold.

"Hyung," He calls lightly. Yeonjun turns to look at him, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He lifts his phone to Yeonjun's eye level.

"I wanna head back now," Yeonjun mumbles, so softly Beomgyu can only imagine the sound out of his lips.

"Oh," He says, reluctantly, brows tightly knit, "You're probably right. They're probably wondering where we went. Do you wanna get the friend dumplings we saw just now?"

Yeonjun brings his fingers together on one hand, the other making a pinching motion on top: dumpling.

"Am I doing this right?" He asks, eyes filled with wonder. Beomgyu nods, smiling sadly at the way those same eyes are aglow with some sort of determination - some sort of joy.

It's endearing, how Yeonjun does not even know a single thing about sign language yet he knows the sign for dumplings. He had remembered the day he learnt it so enthusiastically. Remembered how he said it was cute. It is such a Yeonjun thing, is it not? To have a vocabulary of his name, their friends' names, eat, good morning, thank you, dance, kimchi, gimbap, and dumplings. The thought bubbles affectionately in his chest. Then it pops, and starts to sting.

He shakes his head. "-'m good, hyung."

Yeonjun is unconvinced, eyes full of worry.

"Anything else you want, Beomgyu-yah? Hyung can get anything you want. Aren't you hungry?" Yeonjun comes a bit closer now, his hand dipping to hold the small of his back.

Not hungry, Beomgyu tells him through the phone. I just feel really tired. I've been lip-reading the whole day.

(It's true - they have been busy the entire day, and their hands have been so cold that he hadn't been able to sign or write much, either. Lip-reading was the only viable option, even if it's the most exhausting, especially when they are a group of five).

He feels Yeonjun's eyes hovering over him. "I'm sorry, Beomie-yah," he holds onto his hand, "I'll bring us back, yeah? You don't have to focus on anything else."

Beomgyu nods gratefully, looking at their footsteps, how they sink so slightly into the bed of snow and how it feels like biting into a spoonful of bingsu. That must make a sound, he thinks. The sound of chewing on bingsu.

Yeonjun leads them back to the centre of town, less crowded now that the fireworks have ended. Yeonjun spots Soobin, Taehyun, and Kai all huddled together on a bench, hot chocolates in their hands.

"We got you hot chocolates too," Soobin lifts a cup holder. Two cups of hot chocolate snuggle comfortably in its sleeves, one with added marshmallows.

"Why's there two of them?" Yeonjun asks. "Are they both for me?"

"Well.."

"Hyung," Kai holds his hand. Beomgyu turns to see the two youngest, question marks in their eyes. "How was it," Kai asks softly as he signs, "did it work?"

Beomgyu shakes his head. "No."

"Oh, Beomgyu-hyung.."

"Hyung, do you wanna talk with me about it when we go back?" Taehyun asks. Beomgyu shakes his head, too. There's nothing to say. He confessed with his words and that didn't work, too. It simply failed, and he simply has to watch and wait for an unforeseeable amount of time. It's unfair, it's kind of cruel, but that's just how it is, at the end of the day.

"Idz o-kay, Taeyun-ah," he says. "I -ad fun today," which is not a lie in the slightest, because who can say they caught a trout, ziplined across a river, and played football on ice within a single day? If only the confession had worked - but Yeonjun will know when it's time, he tells himself repeatedly like a mantra. They have plenty of time.

Taehyun looks away, towards Soobin, and Beomgyu eyes him curiously as he looks back to him.

"Soobin-hyung said we should head back now, the line to the bus is long," he tells Beomgyu helpfully. "If you look up, hyung, you can see Orion's Belt," he points so excitedly towards the sky, to the three bright stars of Orion, together in a straight line. He sees the brightest of the trio, the Rigel star, telling apart north and south. Taehyun points elsewhere, and Kai joins in too, as curious as a puppy, tip-toeing as if it'll get him a better view of the sky. Beomgyu tries a little harder at reading the boy's lips, "then that's.. the Eye of Taurus," he exclaims, pointing upwards. "Then-"

"-Pleiades," they both say in unison. The cluster of seven stars, bright and twinkling for their naked eyes. It is a scene only visible in a place like this, although the sky is not all black, still with wisps of smoke from the fireworks display. Beomgyu finds Cassiopeia, too - how beautiful it is! How cruel and lovely a thing, to see Yeonjun in each of those stars. He feels like the man the Little Prince had left behind; him, the skyful of stars, the meaning they held only for him.

He chooses to quietly admire the view of the Hwacheon River as they leave. It has grown horrifically cold, but winter seems so warm. The eatery and its artificial orange glow; the fairy lights all around them, the statues and sculptures.. he stuffs his hands into his pockets to feel the last bit of warmth his hand warmers offer.

The stars follow their bus ride to the city, to the convenience store, and all the way back to their house. They are to leave by tomorrow afternoon, so as one of them is taking a shower, the rest are tidying the floors, and stuffing dirty laundry into plastic bags. Kai turns a roomba on, and it is currently vacuuming the house very diligently, singing a song as it goes and knocking onto random corners and their toes.

That night, Yeonjun became a shrimp.

🌸🐯

When Yeonjun wakes up the next morning, there is something sticking to his forehead.

He touches it, still hungry for sleep, and it is soft, and warm, and he pets it very gently in his half-asleep state. Why does he feel ten tons heavier?

"You're awake."

He opened his eyes. Slightly.

"Are you feeling well? Better?"

He blinks.

"Huh?"

The voice - Taehyun’s, his mind registers - comes closer, and the back of his palm touches onto his neck. "Your fever's broken, that's good."

"Fever?" Yeonjun sits up. His bones crack, and he realises the thing in his forehead is a fever patch. "I had a fever?"

He feels the younger boy staring at him, up and down. "Yeah. You had a fever last night, Beomgyu found out about it. You probably have a cold."

Yeonjun tries to remember any memories he might have had of last night. But he only remembers falling asleep - he was counting sheep before that.

"Beomgyu?" He asks.

"He's still sleeping," Taehyun answers.

"No, I meant.. Beomgyu found out about this?"

The boy nods. "He found out and got you medicine at four last night. He wouldn't sleep until you took them. He slept at five," he informs Yeonjun helpfully. "He got out to get you the meds, too."

Beomgyu went out to get medicine for me, he mind repeats. It functions like a clip, playing at half a frame per second. Until it clicks.

Beomgyu went out to get me medicine, at midnight, in Gangwon, in the snow.

"...wasn't it cold?"

"You were sick," Taehyun tells him. "I woke up from the noise and tried to tell him we could get everything in the morning, but he wouldn't budge. You were really sick."

"..oh."

He drops back into his pillow, his body too heavy to be sitting still. His heart is warm and it isn't because of the cold. It's because Beomgyu got him medicine, took care of him, and slept at five, all because he was ill. How did he even realise something was wrong with him? And what time is it?

"What time is it, Taehyun-ah?"

"It's almost twelve," he replies. It is now that Yeonjun realises one final thing - Taehyun has been helping him pack up the rest of his things, and his heart swells impossibly with gratitude.

Taehyun tilts his head, a question mark growing in his eyes.

"Are you okay, hyung?"

Yeonjun attempts to smile. The nerves along the bridge of his nose feel almost akin to a boulder.

"Yeah, I still feel sick, but I'll be fine,” he hears noises coming from outside their little room. "And Soobin and Hueningie?"

"They're cleaning up outside,” Taehyun glares when Yeonjun even looks like he’s about to stand up. “Don’t. They told me to not let you help them. Go wash up and have breakfast and do what sick people do.”

"What do sick people do?"

"Sleep and get better."

🌸🐯

Beomgyu wakes up just ten minutes before they will have to take the Seoul-bound bus. He is understandably still thick in the fog of sleep, and sticking to Yeonjun like a dandelion seed - he’s telling him to wrap his scarf just a bit tighter as they leave the house, looking at him with every passing gust of wind at the bus terminal, and reminding him to take his medicine, not unlike a mother to a child. But once all that is done, and the bus is moving at a steady speed, Beomgyu is out cold with his head against the even colder window, every breath giving shape in circles on the frosted over glass.

He never once mentioned helping him last night, Yeonjun thinks quietly. The sleeping boy’s fingers are still grazing on his sweater, and his cheeks and ears look a shade darker than the rest of his face. He knows the colour must be red or pink, but he wants to know what it looks like, adorned on Beomgyu’s face.

The bus drives through a particularly bumpy road, and Beomgyu’s head is suddenly leaning onto Yeonjun’s shoulder again - which, he is sure isn’t the best thing, given his cold, but he is a weak man and he really doesn’t want to wake Beomgyu again. So he watches quietly, one might even think he is counting lashes, and finding freckles on Beomgyu’s face.

He breathes in; rather difficultly, but he does. The air smells of coffee. Beomgyu always buys him coffee whenever Yeonjun treats him to something. It will magically appear in the practice room; something to look forward to.

All of this, Yeonjun files into the little corner of his mind named Happiness.

When Yeonjun was young, he learned the word for happiness.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t know happiness before that - he knew how it felt. He was a happy child. But after the day he learned the meaning of happiness, he suddenly began to see it everywhere. The cartoon buns his mother bought him after school, happiness. The playground his father would take him after dinner, happiness. Befriending the stray kitten outside of his apartment, happiness. Like a Jack-In-The-Box that springs out mid: oh, this is what happiness means! This is a happiness to me!

These days, the name Beomgyu is synonymous with happiness. Yeonjun sees him in all the things that give him joy. His mind creates a make-believe that this is all mere coincidence, but it isn’t. If given a chance, he might even say it is synonymous with love.

He sweeps strands of Beomgyu’s hair to the back of his ears, smiling when the boy twitches his nose.

Why is this so difficult, Beomgyu-yah?

How can he let it spin and fall and twist without taking the breath out of his lungs, how can he let it settle like a spoonful of honey in tea; like a splash of milk in coffee? Gently, until it’s as if it has always, and never been there?

He leans his head on top of Beomgyu’s. Before he knows it, he falls asleep, too.

🌸🐯

The new school year begins on the first day of spring.

A flurry of things happened before that: they returned to their apartment in Seoul, registered into classes, and chased the last holiday deadlines the last few days of February. The morning spring began, the air was still cold and the trees still in their collective slumber.

Soobin and Yeonjun’s internships began, and by virtue of that, they are nowhere to be seen on campus. It is rare to catch a sight of Soobin in their apartment either; he is gone when Beomgyu wakes up and back when Beomgyu is holed up in his room, often returning with baked sweets and spots of flour and icing sugar dusting on his clothes. Then he takes his hour-long showers and holes up in his room, too. Yeonjun, on the other hand, has his internship on the other side of Seoul. He has been a sporadically missing figure in their group chat ever since then; sometimes, when he appears, Taehyun and Kai welcome him like a soldier coming home from war.

For Beomgyu, life goes on very normally. But sometimes, when it goes too normally, something unexpected happens.

Like accidental hedgehog acquisition.

He has just finished three rounds of game with Heeseung and Felix when he hears a beep from their entryway, followed by frantic steps, all scattered across the living room leaving little quakes in their wake. Before the possibility of a potential robbery has even entered Beomgyu’s head, he peeks out his bedroom door.

It’s Soobin, unsurprisingly. But in his arms is a worn damp box, and he is cradling it like how one shields a child from rain and sun.

“Hyung?”

Soobin jumps, and curses, “Holy- fuck, Gyu, sorry, do we ha-”

Beomgyu points at the tiny box in his arms, and upon closer inspection, the box is moving. Oh, what the fuck? Beomgyu scurries back.

“Hyung. Wha ih dat?”

“I-” Soobin stammers, trying to catch his breath, “So. I found a hedgehog.”

Beomgyu narrows his eyes. “Huh?”

Soobin loosens his hold of the box, and pries the lids open - just enough for Beomgyu to notice a little ball curled up in the corner of it, trembling so horribly it looks as if its body can no longer hold itself together. In Soobin’s hand is a heat packet he sticks closely to the side of the box.

“It was left right by the bakery,” Soobin tells him, his words so shaken Beomgyu could barely pick them apart - “Do we have those- the uh, those hot water bottles?”

Beomgyu hastily stands up and runs for the drawer in his dresser, digging out the unused hot water bottle his mother had insisted he bring with him.

He fills it with hot water, lays a towel on it, and Soobin scoops the hedgehog to warm it right on top of the pouch. His hands are big enough to cover all of the little fella; they cover it up with another warm towel.

“I called Hueningie as soon as I found it,” Soobin explains, “He told me I have to slowly keep it warm first, so I got it a hand warmer and came back as fast as I could,” And he takes a deep breath. “He’s on the way too. He went to the pet shop he works at and got us what we need for now.”

Right on cue, their doorbell rings. Soobin walks up to their entryway, and Beomgyu is left with the little ball - he is almost too afraid to touch it, but he brings his hand cautiously across it, still so scarily cold and seemingly in a deep, deep slumber.

Seconds later, he hears Kai's voice. Though his words are left to the clouds and he only sees him when his hands reach forward to check the still slumbering hedgehog, curled up tightly into a ball of quills. It barely moves as Kai wiggles it around, his thumb shuffling around the bottom of the hedgehog to no avail. If Beomgyu were to guess, he's attempting to check on its heartbeat.

He feels a large thud right beside him; a large box has made its way to his side, filled with various pet paraphernalia.

"It's definitely already hibernating," He frowns, "If we keep warming it, it should be more active in an hour or two. It's too bad there's no vet open nearby right now…"

"-a good thing?" He sees Soobin asking.

Kai heaves a troubled sigh, "Domestic hedgehogs aren't supposed to hibernate. It's really bad for them. So we've got to wake them up as soon as we can. For now," He turns to the box, and Beomgyu pushes it towards him.

"We can set up its cage. It's seriously too small for hedgehogs, but it's temporary and I don't know if hyung wants to keep it, so…"

He hears Soobin's voice, but Beomgyu is helping Kai unpack everything stuffed into the box - a cage, paper bedding, dried mealworms, a heating pad and a water dispenser; the basic necessities to keep it alive.

Two hours goes by, and the hedgehog is gently stirring itself awake, much to the relief of the three boys surrounding it. It begins to unfurl itself from its back of quills and twitching its limbs. Kai lifts it up to check for its heartbeat, and also something else, to quell the curiosity of no one in the room.

"Guys! It's a boy!"

🌸🐯

Soobin and Kai leave for the vet first thing in the morning, before any of their classes begin. Beomgyu gets a message from them in their group chat later on, in the middle of his afternoon seminar-

Bunnybin

: We’re keeping him! Kai and I officially have a son!

Taehyunnie

: congrats on the baby

: I’ll bring my old snake’s tank over to your place then?

Hyuka

: Thank you Taehyunnie~

Healingie-hyung

: Wait. Who’s pregnant?

: I was gone for a day and you guys got a son? What’s going on?

🌸🐯

Taehyun carries a glass tank through the doorway of their apartment two days later.

How he brought it from his place to Beomgyu and Soobin’s is a whole other discussion in itself, but he sets it on the floor of their living room, and takes a big breath of relief, rolling his tired shoulders and stretching his arms.

“God,” Is all that he says, and Beomgyu laughs. “Where’s my nephew?”

Soobin emerges right behind him, saying something and holding the tiny cage in his arms. Taehyun looks judgmentally at him, wide-eyed and blinking and probably contemplating his choice in friends. Beomgyu waits curiously for what Taehyun's about to say.

“You named him Hedgehog?”

He feels his jaw dropping as he turns to face Soobin too. He had thought Soobin would name it Naruto or Gojo, something nerdy like that - but they have hit a new low.

“What?” The older shrugs, “We need a placeholder name, so why not?”

“Might as well have named him Spiky,” Taehyun says.

“That one came across my mind too, fun fact. But it’s too..” He narrows his eyes. “Generic?”

“And Hedgehog is not?” The younger voices, a mix of flabbergasted and disappointed, “Soobin-hyung, what if the placeholder name actually becomes his permanent name? That’s what happens most of the time-”

“Hyung,” Beomgyu looks at Soobin earnestly. “et Taehyun nem him."

“Do you two really have such low confidence in my naming skills?”

“No shit we do."

“Fine,” Soobin looks defeated, settling Odi’s cage onto the floor as he sits by the tank Beomgyu and Taehyun follows - the hedgehog is getting impatient anyways, poking its nose between the bars of its cage to sniff curiously at its surroundings. Soobin drags the bag of paper bedding and newspaper towards him. “What should we name Hedgehog then?”

Taehyun pulls out his phone and searches up the lists of names on Google, with Beomgyu reading along with him as Soobin diligently scoops bedding into the tank. By the time the bedding has been laid, they arrive at the last four names.

“Shin.”

“Ramyon,” Beomgyu chuckles.

“Come on guys, he is not edible,” He opens Odi’s cage, and gives a pained expression as Odi nips on his finger, still not familiar with his owner’s hands. “What’s next?”

“Hoseok,” Taehyun reads. They turn to Soobin simultaneously.

Soobin seems dumbfounded. “Hoseok? Like the BTS member?”

“According to this site, yeah,” He nods along.

Soobin laughs. "No. Next.”

"-et's do anoder -ist, Daehyun-ah," Beomgyu shakes his shoulder gently.

By the time the hedgehog has settled into its new home - much spacier, decked with toys Soobin and Kai had bought together yesterday, and floor-to-ceiling windows as walls - Taehyun has turned to a new website.

“Hyung,” He calls. Soobin looks over to them.

“What about Odi? Choi Odi?”

Soobin considers for a moment. “Huh. That actually sounds nice.”

He looks at the hedgehog, who's attempting to bury itself deep into the bedding.

"Odi-yah," Soobin calls.

And it's as if the hedgehog is aware of human speech, because it stops its burrowing and turns to stare straight into Soobin's soul.

Soobin blinks, startled.

"Well. Odi it is then."

🌸🐯

Eleventh of March, Yeonjun finds himself in a mild case of panic and in the deep trenches of a dilemma.

He has always been told he's predictable when it comes to gifts. He knows what everyone likes and he never strays too far from it - perfumes for his mother, plushies for Kai, a nice cake for Soobin and a barbecue dinner for Taehyun. So on, so forth. Maybe a gift card if they're not that close. It's not as if he doesn't try, he just knows for certain it is something they will like. That's the point of gifts, isn't it?

But. But. But.

Beomgyu's birthday is coming up in three days, and for a man in Yeonjun's position, it is really hard to decide on anything at all. A long list plagues his thoughts every night before he sleeps.

(Yeonjun is embarrassed to admit this, but he is also very determined when he wants to be - he wants Beomgyu to love his gift. He is fueled by the pure will to see the smile on the boy's face, knowing his gift made him that happy. He just likes a happy Beomgyu. Who doesn't?)

He thought of buying him shoes, at first - it's simple, it's nice, and Beomgyu likes fashion. But the problem came when he realised he didn't know his shoe size. So maybe it would be better if he doesn't risk it.

Cross.

Second idea came on Valentine's Day (Yes, Valentine's Day. An entire month before his birthday). Flowers would be great, wouldn't they? Roses, carnations, maybe daisies since Beomgyu will stop to admire them every time…

Then he actually stopped to think of the implications behind a bouquet of roses, and his neck heated up like an oven on Christmas Eve. God, what was he thinking?

Cross.

He had asked for Yerim's advice then, since the girl always seems to give the best gifts. She gives him a coy smirk, and regret immediately overlaps any hope that was in him in the first place.

"Bring him on a date to Paris. Confess to him under the Eiffel Tower while you're at it."

"Do you think I'm made of money?" He sighs.

He hates how he could picture it, moments after. Just him, Beomgyu, and the Seine. A pretty starry sky and his even prettier eyes. Fuck.

Cross. Cross. Cross. Cross.

Which is what made him wake up on an early Saturday morning, muscles still aching and begging for rest after the gruesome hours of practice yesterday. He drags himself out of his studio unit, to the elevator, before it cranks to a stop at the entrance where he meets a familiar face by the mailboxes.

"Oh, Yeonjun-hyung, you're awake?" Taehyun asks. He is clad in a hoodie and shorts, his headphones resting on his neck. He thinks he can hear the faint sound of rock music from them.

"Yeah, I'm going to get a gift for Beomgyu's birthday," He says. "Have you gotten him anything?"

Taehyun quirks his head, intrigue filling his eyes. "I thought we're all getting him a cake and a birthday dinner? I mean.." he rubs his chin, "Beomgyu hyung's parents did get him a telescope.. it shipped over to Kai's house yesterday.."

"A telescope?" That's.. actually a really good gift, he thinks, just the slightest bit anxious. Now what do I do?

"Yeah. Kai, his sister and I finished setting it up yesterday. It's a simpler model, but you can see the moon and some planets and stars with it, so I think it's quite cool," His eyes bore into Yeonjun's, then, like a curious kitten - "Are you getting him something, Yeonjun-hyung?"

Yeonjuns head, whether by virtue of a lack of caffeine, the hour, or the lack of ideas, in general, is absolutely blank. He clears his throat.

"I.. I'm still thinking about it."

Taehyun shrugs. "You'll be fine. I think Beomgyu-hyung will like anything you give him."

Yeonjun perks up. "You really think so?"

"Yeah, he looks up to you, you know him well. I'm sure anything you have in mind is good."

Pressure, pressure. Yeonjun does not have the mind to tell him his mind is literally empty.

"I've gotta go now. I have a meetup with some of my groupmates later on," Taehyun brings his hand to his shoulder, gives it an assuring squeeze, almost as if he knows. "I'll see you when I see you, hyung."

"Yeah. I'll see you, Taehyun-ah."

Taehyun replies with a cute wave of his hands, before he disappears into the waiting lift, and Yeonjun is left to think alone, again.

He sighs, shoulders heaving down before he turns for the entrance, stepping out to a Seoul prepped for spring, with just the perfect amount of sun for the cold to be pleasant. It's only fitting for Beomgyu to be born at the start of spring, a part of him begins to muse. He wonders if the pink of cherry blossoms matches the pink on Beomgyu's cheeks, too; if he turns into a soft cherry petal when he's embarrassed. How cute will that be?

Will he meet his soulmate this year? His heart squeezes, acidic. Will he get his colours?

Will he fall for them? Will he stay like this forever?

The metro whisks him to the largest shopping district in Seoul. It's early, with most shops still having their shutters half-closed, half-opened. Maybe a cardigan, he thinks. But Beomgyu has a great collection of those already. A Polaroid camera? But a decent one will quite literally cost a good chunk of his savings…

He sips on a convenience-store americano, walking aimlessly along the waking streets. He could get him one of these cute ceramic crafts, or that velvet beret hat, over there…

Before he knows it, he finds himself stopping to the sound of a windchime, quick and light - a bookstore with a Japanese-sounding name, with books in columns and rows stretching all over the shop, and stairs leading to the floors up ahead; a place a starry-eyed Beomgyu will get lost in for hours on end. Soft jazz plays in the background as he steps into the store - where does he begin looking?

He has seen Beomgyu reading almost every genre out there - from the classics everyone and their mother has heard of, to the lesser known poems and non-fictions about space and trees and everything else in between. Him, on the other hand, knows not a single thing about books. There are two non-course-related books in his place and one of them is lodged under his computer desk while the other's gone missing, if it was there in the first place. A Schrödinger's book, Taehyun once said. Which reminds him, he should return those two books back to the boy someday.

Nevertheless, the great search for the perfect gift begins, from the first row to the last, then to the next floor with just as many shelves. It feels almost like a Sisyphean task; a clueless man combing through ten thousand spines to look for one Beomgyu will like, the author's names familiar and then foreign to his tongue. He walks out of the European-classics section empty-handed, a sigh building in his throat.

On second thought, it really is a silly idea, isn't it? He doesn't even know what book Beomgyu has or hasn't read, if his bookshelf already has the same copy of a title he finds interesting. He should have at least asked Soobin to snap a picture of Beomgyu's bookshelf. But it's too late, now, his hand is already running down the wooden railing of the staircase.

Back on the ground floor, the store has begun to liven up with the early crowd. Yeonjun heads for the exit, but his eyes catch a glimpse of the weirdest looking dictionary off the side of the counters, by the clearance section. The title itself is the length of your average Russian novella.

He squints.

Achieve Fluency in Korean Sign Language in 100 days - A Guide To 1000 Day-to-Day Words and Sentences.

Oh, wow. Yeonjun laughs to himself.

The title is so long, he seriously cannot tell if it's supposed to attract or divert people's attention away from it. It's so heavy it takes him by surprise.

He runs through the pages, all detailed diagrams of different signs; a dictionary made mostly of pictures.

Back to the cover, though, the title is so long it takes up the entire thing. Yeonjun finds himself staring at it for a moment longer, until the words blur and mesh together.

From the back of his mind, he can only think of less than a dozen words he knows in sign language - half of those, to both his amusement and shame, are all words for food. He knows his name, he knows the basic phrases like goodbye and I'll see you again. Other than that, he barely knows anything else.

Personally, Yeonjun finds the fact embarrassing; two of his friends sign, one of whom even gave him a name in sign. He has always wanted to learn it himself. If not to see the joy light up on Beomgyu's face, then for the fact that he wants to understand the boy. He's just never gotten the time to really invest in learning about it. The book is frightfully thick in his hands, but who's to say he can't find the time to learn (as the title suggests) ten words a day?

He lays the book against his forearm, and runs his thumb right across its spine, smooth and cold. He heads to the cashier with a newfound elation in his steps.

Until he realises he still hasn't crossed the only thing in today's agenda, and that is, to get a gift for Beomgyu.

He sighs, and continues his walk along the streets. He goes home even more frustrated, because how is it possible to not find a proper present after one whole day of searching?

He makes a new list that night. But then he balls it all up, and chucks it into the imaginary bin in his head.

🌸🐯

Comes the thirteenth of March, and Yeonjun is still in his own self-made crisis.

He currently finds himself in a flower shop, half an hour late to Beomgyu's dinner; not that his schedule had allowed him to be early, but, still. Better to be walking to the metro station than standing in front of bunches of flowers.

His eyes skim over blooms and blossoms, grey, grey, grey. He knows he shouldn't buy him a bouquet out of impulse. Because friends.. don't give each other bouquets that mean otherwise, do they?

He bites his lip as he stops at the rows of flowers, and their names written in a romantic cursive - roses, carnations, camellias; daffodils, daisies…

His eyes land on bouquets of the most delicate, darling looking blossoms by the corner of the small shop. Shy little blooms of white, in bunches and branches. Baby's breath, the cursive tells him. Small but mighty, adoring and comforting. A little playful, too, with how they spring about from their stems; how they move with even a little bit of a breeze.

Beomgyu's the first person to come to mind, when he looks at these flowers. Actually, Beomgyu is the only person who comes to mind. It's like the flowers are asking to be Beomgyu's. He takes a deep, deep breath.

And he decides, fuck it.

He leaves the flower shop with a bouquet of Baby's Breath held carefully in his hand, and shielded away from the winds and the fuzzy rain on his way to the restaurant.

🌸🐯

The restaurant is a Japanese place near their campus; he thinks the name rings a bell, maybe a place Kai had mentioned to him once. It is tucked away into an alleyway, and the interior feels more like a home than a restaurant. A lady greets him in accented Korean, and a bright, welcoming grin.

"Are you Beomgyu's friend?" She asks. Yeonjun nods. "The room at the end of the restaurant," she points, and Yeonjun gives her a quick thanks, heart pounding in his chest. He holds onto the bouquet a little harder.

He slides the shoji door open, "Sorry I'm late-"

"Yeonjun-hyung!"

"You're wet," Taehyun says to him. Yeonjun knows; he feels the cold winds stabbing onto his back, but what is he to do about it?

"Yeah," he smiles, shrugging it off. "Just a bit of rain. I'm fine," he walks up to Beomgyu, lifting the delicate bouquet he has been protecting for the past half an hour, and Beomgyu looks at the flowers, before he looks at him, lips parted and eyes so lovely and surprised. "Happy birthday, Beomgyu-yah."

Beomgyu takes the bouquet, looks at it for a second, looks at Yeonjun, and then, to Yeonjun's horror, he simply places it on the table. Inches away from a basket of fried.. something. Tempura, that's what they are called.

He watches with baited breath as the boy reaches for the hems of his shirt - what is going to do, show Yeonjun his absolute disappointment? Tell him he hates flowers? Is he allergic to Baby's Breath? Is he suddenly allergic to Yeonjun?

Then he pulls it off of him, revealing just a long-sleeve shirt underneath. He passes his sweater to Yeonjun with worry latched onto his face.

"You're cold, hyung," he nudges the sweater to Yeonjun's chest. "-lease,"

And Yeonjun wants to melt, but he manages to take it, thank Beomgyu, wear it, and take a seat next to him. The sweater is warm, and it smells like the perfume Beomgyu must have used, and it fits him just right when minutes before it had looked oversized on the boy's smaller figure - how is he to process all of this? He sees Beomgyu taking the bouquet again at the corner of his view, thumbing over the flowers so gently under the table Yeonjun might actually melt again. Oh.

"Now that Yeonjun-hyung is here, we can finally order more food," Soobin passes him a large menu. It is then Yeonjun notices the dishes already spread across their table of five - sushi, rolls, a basket of tempura, and many other things Yeonjun cannot name. His stomach finally remembers to growl.

Chatters and clanks of cutleries and plates fill the space between them. Beomgyu speaks and signs - which reminds Yeonjun, he hasn't opened the book he had bought just yet - and Soobin helps him translate at times. Beomgyu passes every shrimp to him; shrimp, and all the things he doesn't eat. It's as if Yeonjun's stomach has become his recycling bin, but he takes it all without a single word of complaint; had it been any other day, he might have urged Beomgyu to try them.

The noises of the restaurant begin to quiet down the older the night becomes, until they are one of the few tables left occupied, and at some point in the night he catches Beomgyu looking at him with a certain look in his eyes, something so close but he just cannot catch. He is quiet, in contemplation, but he has this smile on his face one cannot possibly forget.

The same look is there after he makes his wish. Whatever he wished for didn't matter though - Yeonjun blew the candles before he could ever reach it.

He was expecting Beomgyu to whine, maybe hit on the shoulder him, too, but when he looks at the boy he is giggling, so bonny and dear, and Yeonjun is glad he exists to see it. Even if it means getting his nose swiped with a fat dollop of cream just seconds after.

They leave the restaurant at ten, and by then, streets have begun to grow cold. They say their goodbyes, and Yeonjun and Taehyun wait until the other three have disappeared from their sight - smaller, smaller, until the sound of Hyuka's laughter is eclipsed and overlapping with the honks of cars and the whirs of engines.

Taehyun holds onto his arm - a precious habit of his, to always latch onto someone, or something - "Let's go, hyung. I feel cold."

Yeonjun hums. The cherry trees around them look a little different than they did last week, and the faintest sweet scent wafts around the air. They walk the familiar route to the metro station - past the stores Yeonjun has, by now, memorised by heart, and past the convenience store that had sheltered him from a storm. That was almost a year ago, when he hid under a cherry-petal umbrella with Beomgyu, hiding from the last of heavy rain.

He’s suddenly reminded of the sweater he’s wearing. He wonders if Beomgyu is cold.

"I can hear you thinking all the way here," he hears Taehyun saying. "What's on your mind, hyung?"

Yeonjun swallows, his fingers kneading on the knitted sleeve of the sweater.

"Beomgyu," he answers truthfully.

"What about him?"

"The birthday party just now." And something much more than that.

He gets a side-eye in return.

"You're lying hyung. People don't look like that when they're thinking about birthday parties.”

Look like what? Yeonjun is tempted to ask.

But he huffs fondly instead; Taehyun's almost never wrong, and he can't tell if he ought to be impressed or envious of him.

"You're right," He admits. "It's still about Beomgyu though."

He hears Taehyun humming knowingly right beside him, and Yeonjun catches a glimpse of their shadows, his height only a little taller than Taehyun's; he has known this boy ever since he came back from San José all those years ago. Taehyun was small, with big, dark eyes and a million odd questions Yeonjun would struggle to answer. Now he's right here, still full of questions, still so curious, but Yeonjun isn’t the one answering him anymore.

In this case, it seems like the opposite.

It's funny how time passes so quickly; Yeonjun used to think turning twenty-one was such a faraway thing. He would make promises and goals but never beyond the age of twenty-one. Anything beyond that was a void. Too grown-up. Old. Gross. Here he is, twenty-two nearing twenty-three, still juggling between being young and being an adult, finding the perfect middle that may not exist. Will younger Yeonjun forgive him for not being as cool as he thought he would be?

"Tell me what you think about Beomgyu, hyung."

Yeonjun presses his lips. Where’s the best to begin? Since when has he begun to feel this way? (It feels like always and yesterday and tomorrow too, if he can say it like that. It began like candlelight and now Beomgyu's lit a whole campfire in his chest).

He clears his throat.

“Well.”

"I’ve always seen him as my dongsaeng. Like how I see you, you know?"

The younger nods. “Right,”

"I never thought I'd think of him as anything else. There was something more to it, too. But then we.. I mean, we just got along more and opened up a lot after summer and then that trip to Gangwon two months ago..”

“Something changed?” Taehyun finishes for him.

Yeonjun looks to the ground instead, avoiding Taehyun's interrogative gaze.

"Yeah."

Months ago, he called my name, and it felt different. Something clicked, and all I wanted to do was to tell him I'd like to stay by his side forever. Anything he wants, I want to give it to him. And it's so much, too quickly, and..

“I probably shouldn’t think about this.”

There is a small pause from Taehyun’s end. Yeonjun wants to ask what it is he’s thinking about.

“And why won't you, hyung?” He asks softly.

I'm afraid of it.

“Because Beomgyu has a soulmate,” Yeonjun answers. “And I haven’t found mine,” he adds, dragging his steps along the rough sidewalks. The younger boy slows down too, to match his wistful pace.

“It’ll ruin what we already have. I don’t want to ruin our friend group, Taehyun-ah.”

Taehyun thins his lips.

“You’re assuming Beomgyu’s relationship with his soulmate is romantic.”

Yeonjun sighs. “From what little he’s been willing to tell me, he definitely wants their relationship to be more than platonic. Who knows. Maybe they're already together.”

“And yet you’ve never seen, or heard about them,” Taehyun stops right in front of Yeonjun, before they walk past the entrance to their flats and Yeonjun has an excuse to drop a conversation which took so long to just be brought to light.

Yeonjun doesn't answer. He doesn't know how to.

"Hyung, you always tell me how Beomgyu-hyung makes you happy all the time. I think you should talk to him."

"Taehyun, you don't understand.." he frowns. "It's soulmates we're talking about here. I can't compare myself to him when he's destined to be Beomgyu's. I don't know where the hell he is, but I'm sure he's in his life. And-"

"And?"

"And I'm not his soulmate. That's it.”

Taehyun is quiet. Yeonjun continues.

"And even if Beomgyu and his soulmate aren't together like that, I still haven't met mine. I want to wait, isn't that the most sensible thing?"

"Sensible," Taehyun repeats, as if juggling the alien feeling of the word on his lips. "Maybe. I think you just need a bit of time, hyung."

"Right,” he agrees easily. It doesn’t feel right, though. He thinks Taehyun must have caught on to this too.

"I wish I can tell you more about it."

Yeonjun stops.

"Tell me about what?"

"You'll know when you know," is all Taehyun is willing to divulge. Yeonjun stays quiet for the rest of their walk back to their flats - it is impossible to pull any sort of information from Taehyun even if he tries, and he knows for certain Taehyun will try even harder to go around it. He's always had a talent for keeping secrets; Yeonjun has spent enough time with him to know this first-hand.

So they keep walking, occasional comments thrown here and there until they part when the elevator stops at Taehyun's floor, the doors sealing close as it carries Yeonjun in its silence. The clack of his door breaks it soon after, and Yeonjun takes off his shoes wearily, his eyes scanning over the view of the studio.

A mix of moonlight and streetlights have crawled their ways into his room, through the windowsill. Light bends to blanket the unmade bed, the table, the chair… he wants to see this in full. He wants to see the sun and the moon. He wants to know if it's yellow, orange, or a light shade of blue, and a part of him aches at the fact that he can't. It's the most puzzling thing; Yeonjun has always been told that a soulmate's arrival will bring a person brightness, and love, and he has always believed it wholeheartedly. But how can anyone compare to Beomgyu? So pretty, so golden, and not fated to be his? How much more love can his soulmate bring him when he has already felt so much of it from just a fraction of Beomgyu's kindness?

How can he give back the same amount of love to his soulmate, when the only person he can ever think of sharing that love with is Beomgyu?

How can he be fine keeping all of these feelings to himself without feeling like he's gone insane with every fond smile the boy gives him?

A message sounds from his phone.

Beoms

: Thank you for the flowers, hyung. I love them so much.

And it's very silly how one message can send his heart simultaneously floating to the air and plopping to the ground, but his hand finds its way to his lips to cover his lovestruck giggle.

Unable to form a coherent enough reply, he replies with a sticker of two cats in an embrace, jams the charger into his phone, and throws himself into the shower.

God. This has to stop.

🌸🐯

Beomgyu holds the bouquet like one holds precious china, pricelessly and delicately. The baby's breaths shine under the dim mood light, shadows casting all over the table like a cherry field in spring. He jumps when he feels a sudden knock on his table.

Soobin has somehow ended up beside him with an Odi-shaped lump snuggled in the sleeve of his jumper, his eyes on the bouquet in Beomgyu's hands.

"You're still looking at it?" He signs with half a pair of hands, seating himself on Beomgyu's bed. "Those are baby's breaths, aren't they?"

Beomgyu nods, placing the flowers aside. The shadow by the side of the desk now resembles a bush instead.

'They're really pretty. Their meaning, too,' his face flushes red. 'I don't think Yeonjun-hyung knows what it means, though…'

"What do they mean?" He asks. Beomgyu hides hides his face behind his knees.

'They mean… I want to spend ten thousand years with you,' Beomgyu answers, heart leaping along, 'They mean… all that. Being together in every lifetime. Everlasting love. Soulmates.'

He looks up to see Soobin smiling.

"He picked well, didn't he?" Beomgyu shoots him a look of disbelief. "Hey, I'm just saying, maybe he does mean it. If he doesn't, it's also cute how they mean these things, don't they?"

He hides his face away once again.

'You're making me hope too much again, hyung...'

"And what's wrong with hoping? You can't wait without hope, and you've been waiting all this time."

Beomgyu frowns. 'Soobin-hyung…'

"Alright, alright," he sighs. "I won't pester you about it. He will know when the time is right. But now," he continues, "I'm going to sleep. And so should you."

🌸🐯

"Beomgyu?" Yeonjun calls from their tiny foyer, jumping as he struggles to unlace the lace of his shoe. Soobin told him he could wait in their apartment; he told him Beomgyu would be home, too. He spots the boy's round head against the arm of the sofa, a book above him. He walks closer, his steps against the wooden floors making Beomgyu notice him from a few feet away.

"-yung," he smiles.

"You look happy," Yeonjun notes, sitting in the space where Beomgyu has made room for him. "What's making you smile like that?"

Beomgyu grabs the pen and notebook from the coffee table, flipping it to the page Yeonjun knows is theirs. He writes quickly,

I'm listening to a song, hyung. I like it a lot.

"Listening?" Yeonjun repeats. The other boy nods. "How?"

Beomgyu points towards the contraptions in his ears - Yeonjun furrows his brows. The hearing aids do look different - darker than they were before, and definitely newer, but they still look nothing like the headphones he sees Beomgyu wearing so often.

"There?"

Beomgyu writes, turning the book to face him. His legs are shaking up and down - excitement.

I got new hearing aids, hyung!

I can hear better, and they come with Bluetooth so I can listen to music better too. I've been wanting these for a while :D

"Oh," Yeonjun takes a closer look at them. It's amazing how something so small can give Beomgyu so much happiness. "Shit, that's so cool."

Beomgyu giggles, and Yeonjun wants to squish him.

Can I listen to what you're listening to? Beomgyu asks.

"You want to connect your hearing aids to my phone?"

"Please?"

Yeonjun smiles softly, how cute is he, asking with such round and curious eyes. "Sure, let hyung pair with them. Let me see if I can connect to my headphones too."

Pairing hearing aids to a phone, Yeonjun muses, is definitely not something he has expected from today.

But moments later, Beomgyu is curled up next to him, a comforter draped over his legs. He continues reading his book, but he is also tapping a finger to the beat. He seems genuinely excited to hear whatever's playing, and Yeonjun thinks quietly to himself that he deserves to be this happy all the time.

🌸🐯

The sign language book sits on his tabletop, too big to be forgotten most of the time. A week after buying it, Yeonjun finally finds the time and energy to flip it open; the pages, as he skims over them, talks of the history and importance of Korean Sign Language, and it is also brimmed with images and QR codes of video lessons. Yeonjun scans one of the first QR codes.

They begin with the alphabets.

G, N, D, R, M, B, S… NG, DZ.. Yeonjun hums brokenly.

It will be easy once he is used to it, putting each syllable into an imaginary tune like a dance for his fingers to master. In some ways, it is just like learning a new choreography. He closes the page once he has all 31 syllabi etched into his brain, repeating this little dance before he sleeps, when he is waiting for his bus amongst the shops and cherry trees on a loud and busy Saturday, and quietly humming, still, after the dance club’s meeting has ended. He has mastered it by now, in sequence, so he has just been testing himself with random syllabi instead.

“Did you start learning sign language, hyung?”

“Oh, Jinnie-”

Yeonjun startles slightly. Hyunjin seats himself in front of him with a curious lilt in his voice.

“I am,” he answers him. The younger boy’s eyes seem to light up with excitement.

“Did Beomgyu teach you?” He asks.

Yeonjun shakes his head, smiling sheepishly. “Ah, no.. I bought a book for it instead. I saw it the other day, I thought it’d be nice if I understood it,” he feels his heart skipping a beat - from the intense practice, or just him, he cannot tell. “For Beomgyu and I to understand each other better.”

Hyunjin smiles knowingly. “Does Beomgyu know? I think he’ll be happy to help you.”

Yeonjun does not know if he should tell Beomgyu now - he is all clumsy and he gets his vowels wrong half of the time. He is tempted to learn the basics first, driven by the elation in Beomgyu’s smile whenever any one of them - him, Kai, or Taehyun - speaks to him in, or with sign language, even if all they’d signed was just one word, or a phrase. He wants to see it again. This time, he wants to sign at least the simplest sentences. Will Beomgyu be happy when he does? Surprised?

He wants to understand Beomgyu when he is signing - signing is expressive, he has both seen and read about it. It is unlike writing or speaking, which Yeonjun thought made sense - Beomgyu’s spoken words are always short and straight to the point, abbreviated for the sake of convenience. But his written words flow with more feeling, and depth - how much does Beomgyu differ when he signs? Does Soobin sound different when he signs as well?

“I want to be good at the basics first,” he tells Hyunjin. “I haven’t told Beomgyu yet, I’m still so bad at it,” he admits with a chuckle. “It’s kinda embarrassing.”

“We all begin somewhere. It took time for me to get used to it too,” Hyunjin looks at him earnestly. “If you need help, I can practise with you here, Yeonjun-hyung.”

Yeonjun perks up. Right, Hyunjin can sign too. He looks at the clock, pointing towards the bold number six. They are about to leave soon, though..

“Is that okay?”

“Of course! You were signing the alphabet, right?” Hyunjin scoots closer. Yeonjun hums. “I’ll quiz you, and we can spell some easier words.”

Yeonjun follows along as Hyunjin goes through the alphabet, quizzing him as they walk through the corridors, and past the campus field, as lights blink open garishly to remind them of the darkness.

They stop at the main entrance to the university, where they split ways - Yeonjun is confident with every syllabus by then, and he has even managed to learn how to spell fluidly.

He should get the boy a coffee someday.

🌸🐯

The second lesson is on greetings, goodbyes, and how-are-yous. The third is numbers; the fourth teaches him to tell the time. It takes minutes to learn them, until they eventually become muscle memory - signing is easier than Yeonjun had thought it would be. Why hadn’t he learnt it sooner?

He has been spelling whatever words he can conjure up in his head these few days - coffee, Yeonjun, Beomgyu, ramyeon - sometimes he learns ten words a day, sometimes he forgets a few and goes back to study them again, all made easier with the video demonstrations in his phone.

The hours before Yeonjun gets his colours passed with a taunting sort of normalcy.

It is a chilly Friday night. He has left his internship later than he had expected; his upperclassmen have arranged a pizza party, and he couldn’t say no, so he walks the road to the metro station with his stomach full, the taste of orangeade still lingering in his tongue.

The next train is two minutes away, the station much less crowded than usual, if not for a handful of people office workers and students out of cram school. Just enough time to think of what to do tomorrow: there is finally time to visit Soobin and Beomgyu's apartment tomorrow, for their weekly dinner dates. He will visit his parents on Sunday, and clean the bathroom in his studio unit. Simple but meaningful, just the way he has been hoping for it to be.

The doors to the train swish open before him. He crosses the grey (apparently yellow line), holding onto the handlebar by the door as the doors seal tightly shut, and the train starts to move. He is seven stations away from home; he opens his sign language lesson for the day - basic expressions.

The first one is thank you - he can vaguely remember seeing Beomgyu do it, one palm laid flat and the other hitting on it vertically. The second is okay - a pinkie moving left and right, below your lips. The third is happy, sorry, full, hungry, want..

Oh? This one...

He watches the demonstrator pointing at herself, then at an imaginary someone else, before closing one of her hands into a fist and bringing her other hand to the top of it, palm flat, spinning slow, unhurried circles...

I love you. It means I love you.

Yeonjun watches it again. Again, and again, and again.

And his mind oh-so-helpfully tells him: Beomgyu has done that to him.

He remembers his prettiest eyes, the way they look at him that awfully snowy day. The way his gaze was all brimmed with hope, begging; Yeonjun had not known what it was all for.

He remembers not knowing what everything meant, Beomgyu's every little action and the firework displays. He remembers trying so hard. He remembers his hands, motions parallel to what he's doing now - towards himself, then him, then closing into a fist as his palm goes around it like a merry-go-round. His hands were shaking. Yeonjun had thought he was just cold.

But he has been confessing. Since- since…

Oh, Yeonjun thinks.

Since last December. When they were waiting for their trains, when Beomgyu had asked him to guess what he was trying to say.

His hands relax unwittingly, his phone almost slipping from his hold, and Yeonjun breathes out a breath he did not know he was holding.

But why would he?

How many other times has he confessed without him knowing? Why would he do that?

Does he like me?

It is getting harder to breathe, or stand still, in that matter. A million thoughts flood into his head and leak through the cracks of the cracked dam just as quickly - Beomgyu, Beomgyu, Beomgyu, and the train stops so abruptly Yeonjun feels the heels of his feet struggling to juggle for balance. He is one station away from home, and three stations away from Soobin and Beomgyu's apartment.

If he doesn't get all the questions in his head answered tonight, he thinks he might just die.

: Beomgyu-yah, where are you?

Beoms

: i'm at home. Why, hyung?

I need to see you :

Want to ask you something :

Is anyone else home :

Beoms

: soobin-hyung and hueningie..

: you're asking now?

Can we meet in fifteen minutes? :

Beoms

: ???

: what's wrong, hyung?

It's just important, Beomgyu-yah. I just need to ask you in person :

Can we meet outside your apartment? How about the park?

Beoms

: sure...

He jams his phone into his pocket right after that, eyes darting around before landing on the information board - three stations. That's five minutes. Another ten minutes to run to the park near Beomgyu's apartment. What does he say? How should he even begin their conversation?

Does he confess too? Is that okay?

He swallows and feels a lump in his airway. Every open and closing of the doors beside him like aftershocks to his heart until his grip on the bar is all sweaty and warm.

The idea is still knocking on the door of his brain. He can't bring himself to let it in, to settle and rest - that Beomgyu has told him I love you, I love you, over and over for the past three months, and he had thought Beomgyu was just saying see you again.

His face flushes, warm to the touch. He pinches his cheek. The idea of Beomgyu liking him; the notion that he has a chance with someone like Beomgyu, it almost seems impossible. What about his soulmate? What about him waiting? What about...

Why didn't Beomgyu just say it to him? Why sign instead?

He bites the inside of his cheek. Then the bottom of his lip.

He did say it. But.

How did he misunderstand I love you as Saran wrap?

When the train stops again, his heart brakes abruptly, too. The station is so familiar; he walks through it at least once a week, the station that is a walk away from Soobin and Beomgyu's place. His shoes seem to no longer fit him when he walks past the supposedly yellow line.

He walks - or runs, in this moment he doesn't know what he's doing at all, just letting his legs carry him uphill, through the narrow residential streets with all and nothing in his mind - until he sees the booming bunches of cherry trees downhill; it's the small park where Beomgyu is waiting, just a pedestrian crossing away.

He sees Beomgyu under the bright streetlights, contrasting so starkly against the darker streets behind him. He is swaying so lightly on the swing set with something in his hands to keep him busy. Yeonjun takes a deep breath, then another, and he realises it does absolutely nothing to settle the nerves sparking and flaming in his chest so he steps onto the grass instead.

"Beomgyu-yah!"

The boy turns to locate his voice, and oh - he is wearing their cardigan. One half of a pair of a matching set. Yeonjun walks closer, and Beomgyu stands up, eyes looking with worry.

"Id- id dere.. thomeding wong, hyung?" He asks jumpily. Guilt bites onto Yeonjun's heart, hard enough to scare the nerves away, for now.

"No, no, Beomie-yah," he tells him quickly. Beomgyu's shoulders relax, his eyes now on the patch of grass beneath them. Yeonjun's hand goes to find his wrist, holding onto it loosely, enough for Beomgyu to look up again. "It's something else. It's nothing bad, I promise."

"Then.."

"I just- well, I was-" Yeonjun coughs. "Uh, I," he points to himself. Beomgyu perks up, looking curiously.

"I," Yeonjun breathes. What is he doing?

He swallows, looking into Beomgyu's eyes.

"Beomgyu, did you confess to me?"

Beomgyu's eyes widen.

"I mean-" Yeonjun calms down. Tries to. "-back in December when you asked me to guess what you meant, and in January, when we went to Hwacheon... We're you confessing to me?"

"I..."

Beomgyu lets go of his tightly bunched up fingers - cherry petals fall all onto the grass, some carried away by the chilly brush of wind. It makes Yeonjun wonder if Beomgyu had waited long.

"Yes," he admits quietly, after seconds of silence. "I did."

Yeonjun's stare must have come across as shocked, because Beomgyu begins to shy his eyes away.

"Beoms.. hey, look at me," he "Did you mean them?"

A nod, and Yeonjun cannot process the mess that is the current state of his brain.

"But you told me- you have a soulmate-" Beomgyu looks so distraught. Why does he? He doesn't understand. But that's what communication is for, isn't it?

Yeonjun breathes in slowly. Then he exhales, and looks into the younger boy's eyes.

"Beomie-yah..." He calls gently, holding onto his fingers, "can I tell you something too?"

Beomgyu nods.

"I don't know what's going on when I'm with you," Yeonjun begins, Beomgyu's fingers hanging onto his so limp, and unsure. "You make me want you so much. Everyday I imagine you with me. I imagine you everywhere. I want to walk with you, I want to try all the cafes with you, I want to sit with you.."

It drives him crazy, how easy it is to picture Beomgyu in everything he does. His dimpled smile and his darling eyes and the rest of him, all of him, he wants to hold all of them, study them, and tell the world how much this boy means to him - Beomgyu, who hides his smile into the nook of Yeonjun's neck whenever he laughs a little too hard; who likes to pout whenever he's asked to do something, but does it anyway; who likes his fries with ice cream but not ketchup, and picks on fabric when he is bored. Beomgyu who laughs and falls into you without abandon when he's close to someone, but does them so seldomly that you will know his joy is true. Beomgyu makes him desire so selfishly of a world where soulmates do not exist; a world where it is just them, where he can kiss Beomgyu without a second thought. Where he can ramble on, how he can see a whole universe in his eyes sometimes and he falls because of it.

Beomgyu is synonymous with happiness. Beomgyu is synonymous with warmth, with love, with campfires, with tigers - he is running out of words, and he wants to discover more, with him. Because being with Beomgyu is such an easy thing. Loving Beomgyu is the easiest thing.

"I feel so happy with you," he tells him earnestly. "And I know we're not soulmates, but I see colours with you. The world is so colourful with you. And-"

His fingers tremor. He points towards his heart, then, to Beomgyu, taking in the way he gasps so softly as he closes his fist, placing his palm on it, spinning-

"I like you, so, so much, Beomie-yah. I love you-"

-and Yeonjun closes his eyes, and opens them again.

When Yeonjun opens his eyes, he sees colours for the second time in his life.

So much of them, rolling like waves beneath his feet, crawling like wildflowers and vines of money leaves. His world is painted entirely anew - his shoes, his hands, the cherry blossom trees; the grass, and-

The world is so beautiful like this. So far from the black and white he knew. And so lasting, not like the second-long glimpse he had all those months ago. This time, when he blinks, the colours remain; it's as if they have always been there all along.

He shoots up, eyes meeting his. Beomgyu looks even lovelier, even warmer. Him and his pretty, pretty cheeks, flushed like a cherry petal, his eyes wide and waiting. His lips are parted and Yeonjun is fighting the strong urge to bite his fist just to stop the more potent urge that is to kiss him.

It is then that the realisation dawns onto Yeonjun - all of his colours came from him.

"Wait,"

But there's no way, is there?

"You-" he stammers, "you're my soulmate?"

Did he wish so hard for Beomgyu to be his soulmate, that he has changed his destiny by sheer force of will?

And why is that such an easy thing to believe?

Beomgyu dips his head, and nods - Yeonjun thinks he's ceased to function. Maybe he's dreaming. His hand is reaching to his cheek, but Beomgyu surges forward just to promptly hide his head into the curve of his neck, arms wrapping around him until Yeonjun is sure he can feel his rampant heartbeat, because he can feel his - just as quick, just as impatient.

"Since when have you known?" He asks. "Since when did you get your colours? When we first met? At the café?"

Was that why he was so quiet? Looking at him like that?

He feels beomgyu shaking his head. He frowns. That was more than a year ago.

"-efore dat," Beomgyu murmurs.

"We've met even before that?" He blinks, pulling back just enough to see him.

Beomgyu nods again, timidly. "You're dancing."

Oh.

"So you were the one- I mean. Of course it was you..." he mumbles, mind spinning so messily. As if he had dropped a match into the woods, too quickly did the fire burgeon. So quickly that he struggles to keep his lungs in place, to hold all his feelings together before they spill too quickly.

"But- how?" He asks Beomgyu. "Are you really my soulmate?"

In the most heartbreaking way, Beomgyu looks at him achingly, so hesitant that he has Yeonjun regret whatever he has ever said.

"Id- is dat okay?" Beomgyu asks. Oh.

"Oh, Beomgyu..." He allays, cradling his cheeks in his palms - so soft, and Yeonjun breaks into a big, uncontained smile. "I was wishing for you. I was wishing for someone like you. I'm so happy it's you, Beomgyu-yah."

And it is then Beomgyu's shoulders slump, and he smiles, eyes curved into crescents and lashes so pretty, and his ears are tinted with what must be the colour red, and Yeonjun can only stare at him; he feels the way Beomgyu takes his hands, and inches closer, and closer, lips ghosting his lips for not even a second before they meet.

So shyly and too briefly, he pulls away, round eyes looking as if Yeonjun has cut and collected for him every star there is in the known universe.

"Hyung," he says, "I love you."

Yeonjun sputters out a puff of laughter, relishing in the way Beomgyu's face has turned entirely pink. He so wishes to take a picture; to burn it all into his memory, how lovely he looks. Like he's straight out of a movie scene.

"Is that so?" He smiles, feeling too much inside. He gently shakes away the loose grip Beomgyu has on his hands, choosing to wrap them around the small of his waist instead, on the fabric of his pretty green cardigan. Beomgyu's eyes trailing wondrously towards his lips, and Yeonjun obliges happily.

When he brings their lips together again, it is to an actual, longer kiss, and he feels Beomgyu's body tensing before he relaxes so perfectly into his arms. As cliché and as corny as this may sound, and as much as it is a mere construct, Yeonjun thinks time may have stopped for them, just for a little while. Until the wind blows and cherry petals and leaves shuffle beneath their feet.

He remembers meeting a boy all alone in a convenience store, his presence so small, so quiet, that even silence would have been louder. There were cherry petals and puddles everywhere when they left, their shared umbrella not enough to shelter all of them. Beomgyu was happy, and when he is happy, he shines.

Colours cannot exist in darkness; there has to be light, reflecting on surfaces to give them colours. That was the day Yeonjun got his first bout of sun - Beomgyu pulled the curtains of his night sky apart, or maybe, Beomgyu has always been the sun. Falling for him was easy; even in black and white, he felt the colours all around.

"If you've known it all this time," he asks, "why didn't you tell me?"

"I wan-ed to wait for yew, hyung," Beomgyu's eyes meet his, so full of love, so bashful. "I wan-ed to hear id, from you."

He remembers the way they exist together after that day; suddenly and always, it is as if Beomgyu has always been in his life. He thought it was strange, how Beomgyu made himself such an effortless nook in his heart. He knows the reason now.

"You've been waiting for quite some time, huh?"

Beomgyu pouts.

"Who'z fault id dat, pabo-yah?"

He seems to be scolding him, but he looks too adorable to ever be taken seriously. Yeonjun laughs, running his thumb over the warmth of his petal-like cheeks. A stray petal hovers in the sweetened air, settling on Beomgyu's shoulder.

"Alright, it's all hyung's fault," he smiles, picking the petal carefully, pinching its end with his fingers as he shows it to Beomgyu. "Don't be angry, Beomie-yah. Look, even the flower likes you too."

Beomgyu turns his attention to the petite petal, blowing it off of Yeonjun's fingers.

"I juz want hyung," he mumbles into Yeonjun's shoulder, arms looped around him. Yeonjun laughs, utterly endeared.

"So cute, Beomie-yah," he coos, "who knew you'd be so clingy?"

Beomgyu backs off immediately. Yeonjun laughs.

"I'm kidding," he offers his hand to Beomgyu, and he takes it without complaint. "Come on, it's getting cold. Do you want to go home? Should we go for a late night snack?"

"Snack," he replies. Yeonjun's head spins with ideas - coffee, tteokbokki, the pastry place, if it hasn't closed. It is technically their first get-together as soulmates, and he wants it to be a special memory. Yet he knows, as cheesy as this may sound, that anywhere they go is special as is. So he thinks of a place close to them instead, a place still quiet enough for them to talk.

He tugs on Beomgyu's hand.

"Is ice-cream okay?"

Beomgyu agrees easily, letting Yeonjun lead them to the ice-cream place further downhill. Their paces have long been adjusted to accommodate the other; Yeonjun slower and Beomgyu a little quicker.

Spring has truly arrived, in bursts of pink and the silky orange tint of streetlights. Yeonjun used to not understand why spring was so beloved. Spring, without colours, was just a flowery season with more fallen petals for him to sweep away. The signs of spring were not the colours of flowers, but Taehyun's allergies and the new semester beginning; that was what spring meant for him.

But it turns out that spring has been waiting for him like a tiger - or, rather, a certain tiger has been waiting for him like a pretty spring day. Whichever was first, Yeonjun cannot tell. But he does know this:

He found his soulmate, and he is a golden, precious thing. He gets to have him for the rest of their lives; he gets to be Beomgyu's, and that is more than anything he can ever hope or wish for.

He squeezes Beomgyu's hand, and the boy meets his eyes.

There is so much to say, and not enough words to describe them. Yeonjun thinks he might be able to tell him one day, when he is better at sign than he is now. But for now, he settles for just one sentence.

'I'm happy you're here,' he spells, watching as his soulmate lights up, and colours feel so impossibly brighter.

Beomgyu spells too, syllable to syllable, slowly so Yeonjun understands:

'It's because of you, hyung.'

🌸🐯

"You two owe me 30000 won."

"Taehyunnie-"

"Ah, don't budge, Kai-yah. Yeonjun-hyung's confession gave him his colours. I won the bet."

"Technically Beomgyu had to confess for this to work, so I was right."

"Hyung, if your guess was correct you would've been 30000 won richer three months ago."

"It's not my fault Yeonjun-hyung didn't get the confession!"

"It's not my fault he got it."

"Fine.."

"Do we get a couple's discount?"

"Do I look like Valentine's Day to you two?"

"Absolutely."

"No."

"Taehyunnie is so mean.."

[END]