Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Yeonjun drummed his fingers along the shelves as he floated down the endless aisles lined with every type of music imaginable. Today was like any other day—he came to work and surrounded himself with what he adores most. Music was his calling, the one thing that he loved and respected beyond all doubts. His coworker, Hwanwoong, could be heard rambling to a customer behind the desk. As bad as it sounded, Yeonjun was glad he was roaming around so the poor customer could be on the receiving end of Hwanwoong's verbose chatter.

The albums seem to swirl around him, making him dizzy. He could never wrap his head around how much creativity was confined within this little music shop. It was his goal to listen to every album they sold, but no matter how much music he listened to, he appeared to barely be making a dent in the collection. He hated when things got like this: the world moving at light speed while he was stuck, standing...watching. Hwanwoong's voice faded further and further away as he tried to center himself and break free of the trance his mind had put him in. It wasn't usually this inhibiting, but something about the past few months had him feeling disoriented amidst the chaos of human existence.

And then, he saw him. Like a prayer had been answered, the movement stopped. Yeonjun was here, and so was that boy scanning over the rows of music labeled with a 'C.' The breath nearly left his body as he watched the other male move with such poise. The highlights in his hair were chunky, a strong contrast to his shaggy black hair. His black leather jacket went perfectly with the equally as black button-up he had underneath. When he moved, Yeonjun also spotted a thin, black choker wrapped around his slender neck. Yeonjun's lungs constricted as if the choker had miraculously enclosed itself around his throat instead. Everything about him was black, making the disarray of the store still around him, and Yeonjun couldn't help the desire that filled his heart. The stillness—he needed it.

Now, he was walking toward the boy. He made sure his name tag was straight and shiny—Choi Yeonjun glinting into the eyes of his new attraction. He was black too...he and the boy would get along just fine. Yeonjun wondered if the male's insides were as black as his were, if he manifested his feelings outward as he did. 

He was in front of him, he could smell his cologne from a few feet away. He felt like a vampire as the scent of the other only drove him more mad. Then, he was speaking, and dousing himself in the charm he knew he possessed. Would the male feel the same way once he turned around and saw his face, heard his voice? "Can I help you find anything?"

The boy spun around, shocked for only a moment. God, he was even prettier up close. The glitter on his eyes, slightly smoky waterline, and shine of his lips stunned Yeonjun, but he kept his composure. He couldn't tell what the other was feeling, but when his lips curved into a small smile, Yeonjun sensed he may have felt it too: the spark. "The Cure, specifically Disintegration. Do you have it?" His voice was deep, but light. Yeonjun could get lost in it and never be found; it was more addicting than any song could ever be. 

Of course, he listens to The Cure. Yeonjun smirked internally, it was fitting. "Disintegration...that's an old one, but I can check. Come with me." He knew they didn't have it in stock, but he couldn't bear cutting their conversation short. All he needed was his name, then he would be satisfied. How would he ever forgive himself if he let this entity of calmness just walk away?

The boy smiled and nodded, falling in step with Yeonjun as they walked to the counter, where Hwanwoong had finally ceased his blither. "Want me to ring him up?" the short male questioned, peering up at Yeonjun with a kindness that he would never understand.

"No, I got it."

Hwanwoong got the message and crept away, not seeming too off-put by Yeonjun's bluntness, but he never was. He clicked a few times and typed in the album name on the computer. Disintegration. It had a nice ring to it. "So, we don't have it in stock here, but I can totally order it for you."

The other boy sighed, pouting ever-so-slightly, and Yeonjun thought his heart was going to leap straight from his chest. "No, that's okay. Ordering online ruins the satisfaction of the hunt. Ya know, old-fashioned record collecting."

God, he was so endearing. Every word that left his mouth seemed to seep into Yeonjun's skin, poisoning him deeper. If perfection existed, it was standing right in front of him, leaning over the counter with the most beautiful brown eyes he had ever peered into. "Well, if you want, I can order it and you can come back in...let's say two days, and it will be on the shelf waiting for you. Old fashion record collecting." He prayed the other would say yes. He had to find out who he was, who this boy that crept in on a Tuesday and turned his world upside down. 

The male pondered for a moment, but ultimately looked pleased with the offer. "You wouldn't mind?" he questioned, holding Yeonjun's gaze with those enchanting eyes that screamed a million words, but none of them intelligible. When Yeonjun chimed back with an "of course not," he let out a defeated exhale, placing his palms flat on the countertop. Yeonjun didn't know how he was supposed to focus for the rest of the day knowing his fingerprints were so casually marking the countertop, but he still didn't know his name. "This feels like cheating, but I'm desperate. See you in two days then," he glanced at the name tag Yeonjun had so thoughtfully polished earlier, "...Yeonjun?"

Fuck, his name sounded so idyllic coming from the boy's mouth. He kept his cool, but his heart was secretly beating out of his chest, and his body temperature was slowly rising. "Yeah, see you in two days..." he trailed, silently imploring the other to fill in the blank he craved so passionately. 

"Beomgyu."

There it was. His insides lit up like a flame, and he wondered if Beomgyu had noticed his pupils dilate. Beomgyu wouldn't be the one that got away. No, he would be the one that fell just within reach. The one he could have for himself with a bit of patience. "See you in two days, Beomgyu."

Beomgyu smiled and backed away from the counter, sparing a cursory wave before he turned around and disappeared back into the bustling streets of Seoul, amalgamating with the crowd of people he came from. But Yeonjun knew he was there...how could he ever forget?

Begrudgingly, he ripped his eyes from the shop window once he could no longer see the other male's chunky blonde highlights maneuvering the sidewalk. Suddenly, everything was real again. People were moving about the shop, his heart was beating, his blood was pulsing, some obnoxious pop song blared from the speakers overhead, and the scent of a blueberry tart warmer invaded his nose rather than Beomgyu's sweet cologne. Yeonjun suspired, refocusing on the computer to order the record that had brought Beomgyu to him.

Disintegration. He had listened to it before, but only once several years ago. What drew Beomgyu to it? What drew Beomgyu here, to him? Yeonjun was a firm believer in fate, and he credited their meeting to the humbling forces of the universe. Did Beomgyu sense it too, the pull of the universe bringing them together?

He submitted the order, feeling impatience already creeping into his heart, but he would have to deal with it. He would be patient for Beomgyu. He would savor every second they had together when they meet again.

See you soon, Beomgyu. 

(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)  

The internet is always a helpful start, especially since there aren't many people named Beomgyu in Seoul, and definitely none that looked like the stunning beauty Yeonjun had witnessed today. He found it ironic that the male's last name was also Choi, maybe it was a sign. 

He was born in March of 2001, currently 21 years old. Only two years younger than himself. His best friend was named Lee Heeseung. They had met at the Seoul Institute of the Arts when they both started three years ago. They were both studying music, but Heeseung didn't seem to share the same burning passion that Beomgyu possessed. Beyond Heeseung, his friend group consisted of Zhong Chenle, Choi Taeyang, and Yang Jeongin. Yeonjun wondered how real these people actually were. Are they good enough for someone like Beomgyu, or does he just tolerate them? He knew he would never find that out through something as superficial as social media. Everything on social media is fake, even Beomgyu. 

He was originally from Daegu but moved here nearly three years ago when his first semester at University began. He doesn't go home in the summers, which Yeonjun found strange. He also has an older brother, but pictures with him are few and far between. Yeonjun noted that Beomgyu doesn't seem like much of a family-oriented person, but that was okay—neither was he. 

His voice was perfect, the most incredible lullaby he had ever heard. His fingers plucked so delicately at his guitar, and Yeonjun wondered if he was always this gentle or if it was just when music was involved. He longed to hold those dextrous hands between his own, where they belonged. His skin tingled with a thousand lightning bolts as he imagined Beomgyu's hands touching him—running up and down his arms, his abs, his face. God, he hated waiting. 

Oh, he dances too. Why wasn't he an idol? The more he digs up, the more he is reminded of just how flawless Beomgyu is. Does everyone else see it, too? On one hand, he wants the whole world to recognize how amazing the younger is, but on the other, he hopes he is the only one that truly sees Beomgyu for the work of art that he is. If only he sees, then Beomgyu can be all his. 

He wore lots of blacks and always seemed to have the perfect amount of makeup on. His friends didn't seem to share the same love for appearances as Beomgyu did, which only made him stand out more. Call him biased, but everyone else seemed to fade into blandness as soon as Beomgyu was around. He demanded attention, and attention Yeonjun would always gift him from now on. 

 The internet also gave him Beomgyu's address, apartment number and all. He would allow himself to be creeped out by the amount of information you can find on someone through the internet later, because right now he was so thankful that privacy is, well, not largely respected across the inter-webs. Just as easily as Beomgyu had floated through the doors of the music shop, Yeonjun had found him, as if he had been waiting to be discovered. 

Yeonjun closed his laptop and stood, hands shaking with excitement. He already had his next plans laid out. He needed to know Beomgyu, know him beyond the facade he broadcasted to the internet and his love for The Cure. He wanted to know the interworking of the younger's brain—what makes him tick, what does he truly love, how does he act when he thinks no one is watching?

He pulled his mask up over his face and made sure his baseball cap covered as much of his eyes as possible. At home, he looked shady at best, but in the buzzing streets of Seoul, he would be just another person that gets overlooked. In the city, no one cares about anyone else, they are just worried about surviving another day. Yeonjun remembered the word homourbanis from a sociology class he had taken once, and it had always stuck with him because of how true it is. Where does Beomgyu sit in the sea of people that never seem to stop and think?

(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)  

Beomgyu's apartment building was simple, and if Yeonjun didn't know it housed the most brilliant boy he had ever laid eyes on, he would've never paid it any mind. But now, here he is, standing across the street and wondering what's going on in there. Is Beomgyu even home?

He knew the younger lived on the second floor, but he wasn't sure which window corresponded, so he surveyed them all. All he needed was a glimpse, something to show him he was on the right track. 

As if telepathic, Beomgyu stepped up to the window on the far left and pulled the curtain open, not even sparing a glance at the world below. Yeonjun's breath stilled as he peered into the window so close, yet so far away. He wanted to throw his disguise off and run up to Beomgyu's apartment, but he knew that would drive the other male away. Patience, he repeated to himself, but he couldn't keep his conscience from wanting more. 

The view he had of Beomgyu from the street below was so clear that it made him wonder if Beomgyu had never watched any low-budget horror film on the market. He would never complain, though, because that meant he got to watch the male in his most natural state, the one he thought no one else would ever see.

The situation was so grotesquely intimate. He contemplated how horribly Beomgyu would hate him if he noticed him peeking in on the most personal aspect of his life, or if he would even hate him at all. Maybe he would be flattered at how deeply interested Yeonjun was in him. Perhaps he's sitting on his couch right now scouring the web, doing the same sleuthing Yeonjun did earlier. Did their interaction at the music store even mean anything at all to Beomgyu, or is he living life all the same? Yeonjun couldn't bear the thought of having no value to the younger; the spark was there, he had to feel it, too. Had to. 

He stood there, watching, for as long as time would allow. This evening was a lazy one for Beomgyu—he didn't do much other than mess around on his computer doing things Yeonjun could only speculate, play his guitar and sing notes Yeonjun could only dream of hearing, and eat dinner Yeonjun could only wish he could smell as well. For now, though, he could only love Beomgyu from a distance, until the moment was right.

He didn't let himself get too disappointed when the boy came back to the window and closed the green curtains, his chunky highlights glinting one last time before he disappeared into his world of secrecy. After all, they had a lifetime, right? The male waited a few moments before turning on his heel and walking back towards the bus station, walking away from the life he so desired to infiltrate. 

That night, he found himself dreaming of the alluring brown orbs coated in eyeliner and glitter, but this time they were only looking at him. Beomgyu was his, completely and indefinitely. He couldn't wait to know Beomgyu like this, where they both believed in the power of their fated love. 

Yeonjun was just getting started, but he knew he could never stop, not until he had every last piece of Beomgyu. In his subconscious mind, did Beomgyu even know how in deep he was? Yeonjun hoped their interaction today meant enough to the other to plague his mind as much as it did his own.

Chapter Text

Yeonjun spent the entirety of the next day learning how Beomgyu lived. His curiosity needed to be fulfilled—he needed to know the most intricate workings of Beomgyu's life so he knew how to claim him sooner.

His day started out at dawn, just in case Beomgyu was an early riser. Once again, no one seemed to pay any mind to the man just standing across the street, watching. Maybe they didn't recognize him from last night, or maybe they just didn't care. If anyone were to ask, he would just tell them he was waiting for someone, and that would be that. Homourbanis.

Beomgyu woke up around 10 a.m., or at least that's when he toddled over to the window and pulled the curtains wide open, still clad in his pajamas and his hair a bit unruly. Yeonjun couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. One day, he wouldn't have to stand here on the sidewalk to see Beomgyu's morning appearance. No, he would wake up next to it, and he could drink the younger in for all his glory. 

He curled up on the couch with a cup of who-knows-what and scrolled through his phone, cracking a small smile occasionally. Yeonjun prayed he wasn't texting someone else, someone he would have to compete with. He doesn't take well to competition, and he couldn't be sure he would give up easily.

Eventually, he stood and disappeared behind a door Yeonjun couldn't see into, probably his bedroom. Yeonjun took this time to fantasize about what was going on. Was he getting undressed? What color were his sheets and bedspread? Does he have little photographs sitting around? What was it like inside those four walls, and when was he ever going to see it?

Half an hour later, Beomgyu strolled back to the window, dressed in black with shiny makeup that caught the light even from the street below. He pulled the curtains closed once again, leaving Yeonjun's heart inquisitive and longing. He figured the younger was preparing to go out, so he pulled his cap down lower and placed his phone up to his ear in mock conversation. Just a couple minutes later, Beomgyu strode out of the front door of the building, his chunky highlights careening through the streets of Seoul.

Yeonjun let him get a few yards down the sidewalk before he crossed the street and casually followed behind. The younger moved quickly and with a purpose, not unlike anyone else in Seoul, but there was something about the way he moved that drew attention. He was a person, just like everyone else, but he was likewise completely different. He didn't look like any of them, and he didn't seem to have the same goals as any of them either. He was just Beomgyu, whatever that meant. Yeonjun wasn't sure what being Beomgyu instilled, but for better or for worse, he was going to figure it out. Learning all the ins and outs of Beomgyu was a requisite, one that he was destined to satisfy.

A few blocks later, Beomgyu dipped into a quaint coffee shop. The shop was bustling with life, a line of customers nearly leading out the door. Yeonjun stepped into the back of the line, just for a few more minutes of observation. He could easily stage a meeting here, but it didn't feel right. Patience. Just until tomorrow.

He quirked an eyebrow as Beomgyu disappeared behind the counter. What was he doing? A few moments later, he emerged with an apron wrapped around his thin waist and a determined expression on his face. Oh, he works here. With another glance around, it was quite fitting that this is where Beomgyu chose to be employed. At the far right corner of the shop, there was a small stage with a single stool and microphone. Yeonjun wondered if Beomgyu ever sat on that stool and sang for the inattentive crowds, if maybe that microphone was what drew him to this shop in the first place. 

Yeonjun returned his gaze to Beomgyu, who was laughing at something a coworker said. He loved his smile, and couldn't wait to be the one that caused it, instead of whoever this unworthy coworker was. That was until the coworker turned around, and revealed himself to be none other than Lee Heeseung. How fitting, two best friends working together and attending the same university. He knew they were close, but he couldn't help but feel jealousy bubble up in his stomach, making his face grow hot. 

He turned abruptly and exited the coffee shop, and when he glanced back in the window from the outside, Beomgyu hadn't even noticed. He couldn't help but sigh knowing that to Beomgyu, he was still the nice guy from the music store. He didn't stick out in a crowd like Beomgyu did to him. He was just there, and then he was gone, and Beomgyu never even knew. 

For now, being the diminutive sliver of a person in Beomgyu's memory would have to do, until he was sure of what needed to be done.

(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

Beomgyu was supposed to return to the music store today. Yeonjun let this reminder guide him through his work, especially when he felt the chaos closing in around him. Hwanwoong had definitely noticed the anxious energy surrounding him as the seconds, minutes, and hours ticked by with no sign of Beomgyu, but he never said anything. Yeonjun was grateful that Hwanwoong never questioned much, despite how annoying he could be. Truly, Hwanwoong was probably the only actual friend he had, even though they rarely spoke and Yeonjun usually regarded him as rather bothersome. 

"Do you want me to take care of that?" the pink-haired male questioned, gesturing to the pile of CDs Yeonjun was frustratedly sorting. That was another thing about Hwanwoong—he was always looking to make his life easier despite Yeonjun always holding him at arm's length. He could never figure out what Hwanwoong saw in him that made him be so generous all the time, but he chose not to ask.

He sighed and slid another CD into its place, a pop culture CD that brainwashed city dwellers with no real taste in music would listen to. "No, I've got it...um, thanks, though." he mumbled, hardly sparing his coworker a glance. 

Hwanwoong nodded and stepped back a little, probably sensing whatever whirlwind of emotion was happening within Yeonjun right now. "Okay, I'm going to start getting ready to close. It's getting close to 8 o'clock."

The younger hummed in agreement, which he knew was rude, but he didn't care. Beomgyu was supposed to be there. He had ordered that album just for him, and they agreed on two days, so where was he? He done all this, and Beomgyu blows him off just like that?

He meandered around for another half hour, feeling every sour sensation flow through his veins into his lungs, heart, and stomach. It was a horrible feeling, really, knowing that he cared little enough to completely ditch their meeting. 

He was just about to shut down the register when the door flew open, but Yeonjun didn't even look up to greet whoever came in to torture he and Hwanwoong so close to closing...until he heard the sweetest voice tearing into his subconscious that was still swirling with contempt. 

"Is it here?" Beomgyu questioned, a bit out of breath. "Please say yes, you have no idea what I went through to get here before you closed."

Yeonjun's gaze snapped forward, where he had to blink a few times to make sure Beomgyu was actually standing in front of him and not just a figment of his desperate imagination. Alas, Beomgyu was still there, studying him with hopeful eyes. "It's here. Well, over there in the C's. I put it out so it would be more realistic for your 'old fashioned record hunting’," he mused, lolling his head towards the record he had so carefully placed first thing this morning. 

The younger grinned and skipped over to the bin, flipping through for merely a second before he grasped Disintegration so delicately, but also victoriously. Yeonjun could do nothing but watch, admire, and allow himself to be pulled even further into the abyss of his love. He wondered if Beomgyu was flattered that he done this for him, if perhaps it brought him closer to realizing that Yeonjun was the one. 

Most importantly, he got to witness the beautiful smile that graced Beomgyu's face once he held the record in his hands, inspecting it with eager eyes that reflected a material longing. Yeonjun considered what other things he could be longing for. Did he long to be loved, to be desired, to be cherished, just as he did that one simple album?

With a youthful expression, like a little kid who had just been gifted a puppy, he moseyed back to the register, where Yeonjun was still gawking at him. "I'd like to purchase this record, please," he beamed in a joking manner, holding the album out for Yeonjun to take.

He did just that, wordlessly reaching for the album with an awestruck look on his face that Beomgyu could probably decipher with ease. He didn't care though, in fact he wanted Beomgyu to know that he turned him into this mess. When he took the album, their fingers brushed ever so slightly, sending a shock through his entire body. He felt his heart rate speed up tenfold as he processed the softness of the younger's hand, the touch he had been dying to feel for the last two days. It was something so minute, but so valuable in this moment that he thought he might die. 

With a smirk, he typed in the numbers to the barcode on the computer. He had a hand scanner, but he planned on dragging out their meeting as long as possible. He wasn't sure when the next time they would come together face to face would be, so he intended to cherish these moments dearly. "So, what's your favorite song from Disintegration?" he asked coolly, trying to be as casual as possible in his dig for new information.

Beomgyu didn't seem to mind, in fact he seemed excited to talk about his musical interests. Yeonjun wondered just how many people really cared to get to know his tastes. "Probably "Fascination Street". The first time I heard it, I don't know, I just felt so high. I wish I could listen to it for the first time again. For me, it was one of those 'change you as a person' songs, if that makes sense," he rambled, and appeared aware he was doing so after the fact. He grinned sheepishly, but he didn't apologize, instead he steered the conversation in a different direction. "Have you heard it? Disintegration, I mean?" When Yeonjun looked up and nodded, he looked as pleased as he did amazed. "That's surprising, most Koreans haven't even heard of The Cure. What's your favorite song?"

"I work at a music store, I'm like...inclined to know a lot of music," Yeonjun responded with a light chuckle, glancing up to lock eyes with the younger. If there was one thing he loved, it was eye contact. Being able to look into the soul of the person you're speaking to is something Yeonjun has never taken for granted, especially not now. "I'd have to say mine is "Lullaby"," he finalized, staring for a few more moments to gauge Beomgyu's reaction before unfortunately returning to ever-so-slowly ringing the album up. 

"Ooh, that one's creepy. I have to say, listening to a song about being eaten by a spider-man is nightmare fuel," the other giggled, watching Yeonjun intently as he finished, quite frankly, wasting time.

As he placed the album into a bag, he clicked his tongue, lightly tossing his head to the side for a moment. "Yeah, but you can't beat that melody. I'm going to be honest, it took me a few listens to even realize what the lyrics were about because the melody was so addicting." He left out the part about listening to the album at least a dozen times over the past two days, imprinting every song as deep in his brain as he could get them. Every verse had brought him into bliss as he imagined the tunes from Beomgyu's ears—how he would bob his head, sing along, dance around. With the most pleasant smile, he finally handed over the bag and a receipt. "Enjoy your record."

"You too," Beomgyu replied, flushing bright red once he realized his mistake. "Not you too, I mean thank you. I will," he blethered, only increasing the intensity of Yeonjun's smile. Beomgyu was perfect in the quirkiest of ways, and that only made Yeonjun crazier for him. 

"Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight, Yeonjun," the younger echoed, gingerly taking the bag and receipt from Yeonjun's slender fingers. He couldn't believe that Beomgyu actually remembered his name, but it made him swell with gratification. That, paired with the fact that Beomgyu actually came back to the store, meant that maybe their convention had meant a little more than Yeonjun initially believed. 

They maintained eye contact for a few lingering moments before Beomgyu smiled one last time and turned to leave, clinging to his new album with such a love that Yeonjun was infatuated with how important the object was to the younger. 

And that night, as Yeonjun stood across the street from Beomgyu's apartment, he discovered the boy's record player is near the window, and when the shadows of the younger dancing bounced off of the walls, he knew what he was listening to. The black-haired male swore he could hear the lifeless tones of The Cure from his place on the street, but he knew that was just his wicked imagination playing its hand. 

As he watched, he mulled over what caused Beomgyu to be so late getting to the store. Did he get caught up at work? Was he out with friends? Where was he?

Yeonjun couldn't take this uncertainty any longer. With one last glance, he turned and left Beomgyu dancing adorably in his living room. He had something he needed to do, purely for his own peace of mind.

When he finally got back to his own apartment, he opened his laptop and began his workings. He had never been much of a computer geek, much less a hacker, but he knew how to access information he wanted. One of his skills happened to be tracking phones. 

When the screen lit up with Beomgyu's geolocation precisely where his apartment building is located, Yeonjun smirked in victory. Now, he never had to be as precarious as he was today, forlornly awaiting for Beomgyu to turn up. He would always know where he was, not exactly what he was doing, but he could always go and scope it out for himself. He liked the thrill of silently watching from afar, when Beomgyu least expected to be observed. Until he could finally hold Beomgyu like he deserved to, the adrenaline from shadowing the younger would have to be sufficient.

With a self-satisfied grin, he put his earbuds in and turned on the album that had brought them together, specifically what he now knew was Beomgyu's favorite song from it. He allowed the lyrics to swallow him whole as he laid in bed, dreaming of the boy's soft hair, melodic voice, golden smile, enchanting eyes, slender hands...everything about his love.

Yeah, I like you in that, like I like you to scream

But if you open your mouth, then I can't be responsible

For quite what goes in, or to care what comes out

So just pull on your hair, just pull on your pout

He threw his head back and ran his tongue along his front teeth, imagining Beomgyu listening to these words, imagining Beomgyu fantasizing about being dominated, overpowered. Eventually, his teeth were digging so far into his bottom lip, he tasted the faint metallic flavor of his own blood. 

Beomgyu was his "Fascination Street" and more. He was his darkest lust, someone he couldn't wait to taste. The song ended, but his flare of emotions never did. If anything, they only grew stronger.

Chapter Text

He had never painted Beomgyu as a smoker, but then again, people will always find ways to surprise you. He continuously reminded himself to keep an open mind when it pertains to others, especially Beomgyu. After all, that was why he was here—to learn new things, things he may otherwise never be aware of. He was coming to know a lot about the younger, little characteristics that showed who he really was, and that was all he could ever really wish for. 

He liked to ignore that this was a parasocial relationship, instead telling himself it was his right to know these things, that he deserved to become sagacious about what he was getting himself into. Beomgyu was his, so it was only acceptable for him to be aware of the younger’s nature through and through. 

Beomgyu brought the lighter away from the cigarette and threw his window open, allowing his first drag to disappear into the dark of the night, unnoticed by everyone but Yeonjun. He watched in awe as the boy inhaled the fumes so effortlessly, leaning out the window as if this were something he does all the time. But it wasn't, if anything he never does this. Something was different about tonight, but he couldn't be sure what it was. The younger disappeared for a moment, and when he returned Yeonjun swore he could hear the melancholy notes of Disintegration pouring into the street. He could've laughed at the situation had he not been worried—the same album he had been dancing to just days ago was now the soundtrack to his pensive night. 

He couldn't help but snap a picture of Beomgyu while he stood there, intermittently taking drags from the cigarette and staring at nothing and everything at the same time. He looked downcast but as beautiful as ever. And Yeonjun loved everything about him, even his sad side that enjoyed a cancer stick every once in a while. He wondered if Beomgyu had ever noticed him lurking, the man that's always standing just a few feet away, the man always loving from afar. But now he could be positive Beomgyu had never noticed, because surely if he was feeling this dejected he would've spared him at least a glance. 

Yeonjun's brows furrowed when Beomgyu's attention snapped away from the outside world, as if startled by something else. His spine tingled when the younger threw the cigarette out of the window and walked out of view, toward whatever had caught his attention. Soon after, he returned, but this time he wasn't alone. 

The black-haired male's breath caught in his throat as he eyed the new presence, someone he hadn't seen before, even in the depths of Beomgyu's social media accounts. He was handsome and looked around their age, probably a university student as well. Yeonjun could tell by the way he carried himself that he oozed confidence, he would even go as far as to say he's cocky. 

Beomgyu just looked at him as he spoke and ran a hand through his dyed-gray hair, no emotion even beginning to enter his countenance. Yeonjun had never seen him so detached and passive, only staring at someone like they were an existence and not a human. The usual twinkle that always seemed to be present was gone, replaced with something darker and more desperate. 

His teeth were sinking into his bottom lip as he gazed in on them. He was on edge, watching, waiting for what Beomgyu and the stranger were going to do.

And then they were stepping closer, too close. Yeonjun felt his blood boil as bitterness overtook every cell in his body; he knew where this was heading, and he hated every second of it. When they began to kiss, sloppy and ardent, it felt like his heart had been set ablaze. Who was this guy, and who was he to be touching Beomgyu? His fists and jaw clenched, but he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away, not even when they were undressing and he was watching things he wished he never saw. No, he watched it all, becoming more sick to his stomach with every move they made. It was as if they've done this a million times, like some cruel ritual. And maybe they had, perhaps this was one secret Yeonjun had uncovered that he would have rather left buried in the dirt. 

He couldn't help but scoff once they finally stopped; Beomgyu didn't even cum. Whoever this was, he was nowhere near good enough for Beomgyu. This guy was selfish, conceited, and driven by lust alone. There was something in the way they interacted that told him that Beomgyu felt the same way, as if it were a mistake he made in his time of vehemence. But still, he let the other male hold him, touch him, feel him, and that's what hurt. That should've been his hands exploring every inch of Beomgyu's body, seeing parts that were made for his eyes only. Instead, this prick was the one in his apartment, and he couldn't even please him. He couldn't wait to show Beomgyu how well he deserves to be treated.

It didn't take long for the stranger to depart, as expected. He wanted so badly to run up to Beomgyu's apartment and tell him he would never leave, that he was so much better than whatever scum he had just let taste him. The feeling only increased when Beomgyu curled up on the couch, holding himself tight like no one else seemed to do. Soon enough, Yeonjun would be there, assuring him he was always present. But for now, all he could do was watch and allow his heart to ache for what was yet to come.

He sighed when Beomgyu finally pushed himself from the sofa and closed the curtains, cutting off his insight into his world for the night. It was unfair that they both had to sleep alone when everything either of them could ever wish for was here, just waiting for the right time to blossom.

After a moment, he turned and left, destined for his cold bed where he would surround himself with the sounds he knew Beomgyu enjoyed while trying to erase the image of what he witnessed earlier. 

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Kang Taehyun.

Yeonjun glared at the image of the male that had held Beomgyu so closely the night before. It only took a little bit of digging on Beomgyu's Instagram following to find him, and he was everything Yeonjun had thought he would be: vain and nothing like what suited Beomgyu. 

Beomgyu had done an amazing job of wiping Taehyun's existence from his feed, but Taehyun didn't appear to have bothered doing the same. In fact, it didn't appear that he tried to hide much, even his gay fling with Beomgyu a few months back. Last night had been Beomgyu reuniting with a lousy ex, one that he couldn't shake. Taehyun was quite the opposite, his social media was filled with his nights out and his affairs. He couldn't fathom what Beomgyu possibly saw in this paramour, but whatever it was, it was enough to keep him coming back for more. 

This just wouldn't do. How was Yeonjun supposed to prove he was the one when his ex was still in the way? He had to do something soon, anything to show Beomgyu that there was love beyond this loser.

He hadn't expected to show up at the coffee shop that night, but his feet seemed to have a mind of their own. He stood outside the window for a moment, simply observing Beomgyu as he drifted around the shop, looking so ethereal in his natural state. Beomgyu seemed to have recovered from last night, but the image of him and Taehyun still persisted in the back of Yeonjun's mind. Was Beomgyu thinking of Taehyun right now? Was he imagining his hands running up and down every curve of his body? Did he miss him?

It seemed wrong to be standing there without his mask and cap—he felt exposed, out of his element, and unprepared to be recognized. Nonetheless, he swallowed the lump in his throat and pushed the door open, the jingle of the bell above the door bouncing off the walls in an almost taunting manner. 

Beomgyu's eyes widened once he saw him, and his heart stilled at the uncertainty of what the younger was thinking. Was he surprised, thankful he was there, or did he finally connect a face to the shadow that's been lurking behind him?

"Fancy seeing you here," the younger grinned, laying down the glass he was drying and moving behind the counter. Yeonjun thought his heart was going to leap out of his chest upon hearing that sweet voice he had missed so dearly. Likewise, he breathed an internal sigh of relief that Beomgyu hadn't looked upon him with disgust, but instead with those dark, observant eyes he saw in his dreams every night. 

"Hey, I didn't know you work here," he lied effortlessly, painting his face with a pleasant smile. The thrill of speaking with Beomgyu instead of gazing from afar coursed through his bones, making him feel more alive than ever. Watching him was nice, but being able to look at the bewitching features of his face up close was an unmatchable high. 

Beomgyu laughed, the light reflecting from his pearly white teeth. "Guilty," he chuckled, wiping his hands off on the black apron tied around his dainty waist. "Do you live here close?" he then asked, eyes full of curiosity. 

The older bit back a smirk. If Beomgyu was asking questions, he was doing something right. Maybe Taehyun would be easier to get rid of than he initially thought. "Ah, no, I live in the same neighborhood as the music store. I was on my way home from visiting a friend when my coffee senses started tingling; must've been fate," he answered smoothly, tossing in the last phrase to see if Beomgyu's face gave away his opinions on the matter.  

Luckily, Beomgyu's face lit up a tiny bit before it went back to normal, but that was all Yeonjun needed. The boy knew they were meant to be, he just hadn't realized it yet. Alas, the feelings were still there, festering inside of him. "Must have been..." he affirmed, trailing off as if grasping at what to say next.

Yeonjun took the initiative, clearing his throat before speaking up again. "How was your record? Worth all the trouble, I hope?"

The other male's face lit up, the same way it had each time Yeonjun asked him about music, causing his heart to lurch a bit at Beomgyu's passion. "You have no idea. I'm obsessed with it. Like, it's basically all I play now," he gushed, and Yeonjun had never wanted to take hold of his face and kiss him more.

"The Cure seems to have that effect on people," he smiled, thinking about how since Beomgyu came in to purchase that album, it was all he had listened to as well. It amazed him how an album he never spared a second thought about suddenly became such an integral part of his life, but how could he complain when the culprit was staring at him with the sweetest doe eyes? 

The younger sucked his teeth and wagged a finger at him, a playful grin playing at his lips. "I wish more people thought like you." Suddenly, realization dawned upon him and his eyes widened before he scrambled behind the cash register. "I am the worst employee ever! What do you want to drink, Yeonjun?"

He combatted the urge to bite his lip as his name reached his ears. He would never get tired of hearing Beomgyu address him; it always reminded him that he wasn't just the lurker, Beomgyu knew him as a person too. "Hmm...make me whatever your favorite is. I'm feeling adventurous today," he jested, giving Beomgyu a challenging look.

The younger appeared beyond satisfied as he punched in several keys on the touchpad with a smirk. "Oh, I'm about to rock your world. I have perfected this recipe after many, many months behind this counter, so prepare to be mind-fucked," he proclaimed, glancing up for a brief moment to add, "Pretend I didn't say that last part—bad customer service."

Yeonjun let out a hearty laugh, his insides filling with so much love he thought he may burst. He couldn't wait until he got to hear Beomgyu joke around like this all the time, and not just in a fleeting moment at the place he worked. 

When he went to hand Beomgyu his card, all he got was a thin hand shooing it away in response. "It's on the house. For your services towards Beomgyu's The Cure cause."

"You're too kind, mister," Yeonjun tutted, but nonetheless returned his debit card to his wallet. He couldn't help but be prided at how thoughtful Beomgyu was, and it gave him hope that this could be the domino that sent him free-falling into the younger's life. 

He looked around, taking in the aura of the dimly lit coffee shop, seemingly empty except for him and Beomgyu tonight. He had never taken the time to examine what the shop was really like since every time he came, his focus was solely on Beomgyu as he went about his casual routine. His eyes fell on the single stool and microphone he had noticed a few days prior, sitting dark and desolate in the corner. "Hey, what's that mic in the corner for?" he inquired, breaking the silence between them stimulated only by the whir of machines as Beomgyu made his mystery drink. 

The male glanced up from the machine he was operating, locking eyes for only a split second before he went back to his main focus. "People sing there sometimes. By people I mean me like once a month," he answered nonchalantly as he put the finishing touch on top of the drink—an ample drizzle of caramel and some other pink syrup. So Yeonjun was right, he does sing here. "Done!" he exclaimed, popping a lid on the cup and sliding it over to Yeonjun with expecting eyes.

Yeonjun picked it up, swirling it around a couple of times before taking a swig, not breaking the lighthearted, but still intense, eye contact they were sharing. Honestly, the drink was horrible. It tasted like a sugar bomb thrown on top of the most strangely bitter cold coffee (he preferred hot), but he forced himself to look delighted. "Wow, this is incredible," he lied, coercing himself to swallow it all at once. 

And he was glad he did, because Beomgyu's face lit up in excitement, and Yeonjun credited his response to what Beomgyu said next. "I'm going to play a cover next Friday night around 9 p.m. if you're interested. I can make you another one of my amazing drinks, too," he offered, blasé but hopeful at the same time.

Yeonjun's insides burned with zeal at the proposal. He wasn't sure how to respond—he didn't want to seem overly eager, but likewise didn't want to come off as dismissive and impassive. He settled on, "Yeah, if I can leave work in time I'll for sure come."

The younger seemed pleased with this answer, and Yeonjun noted how handsome he was up close, especially when he seemed happy rather than introspective like last night. Whatever hold was gripping Beomgyu the evening before, Yeonjun vowed he would be there in whatever ways possible so they could have moments like this more often.

"I should get going," he announced, as badly as he hated to do so. He would much rather spend all night talking to Beomgyu in this quaint shop, but he wanted to come on softly. Too much all at once would only push the other away. Thus, he needed to use the art of mystery and longing to his advantage—constantly leaving Beomgyu wanting more. "Thank you for this drink, you're quite the coffee connoisseur," he added even though he could still taste the dreadful flavor in his mouth. 

"No problem. See you later, Yeonjun."

"Bye, Beomgyu."

And with that, he turned and left, but not before making sure the image of Beomgyu's glittery eyelids and black choker were ingrained into the depths of his mind. Our story continues, pretty boy, he smirked internally, making sure he was out of sight before he tossed the drink into the nearest garbage can.

Chapter Text

What the fuck was Taehyun doing there again?

Yeonjun could feel himself seething from the inside out, his breathing becoming heavier and his hands beginning to shake. He thought after the moments they shared at the coffee shop two nights ago, Beomgyu's mind would be riddled with images of him and Taehyun's presence would fade away. But now, just as before, he stood and watched as they tore each other's clothes off. 

The bitter sting of jealousy overtook him as Taehyun touched him, tasted him, looked at him—all things Yeonjun could only entertain in his deepest fantasies. It was supposed to be him tugging roughly at the strands of Beomgyu's hair, kissing the inside of his thigh, biting his opened mouth as he panted. Instead, it was Taehyun who got to enjoy every second of it—someone who didn't care and never would. Meanwhile, Yeonjun was forced to watch it all. Every breath, every movement, every word that he didn't get to be a part of. He was the one who gave a fuck, but he was the one that got tossed to the side. 

He almost wished they would fuck in Beomgyu's bedroom so he didn't have to feel rage like this, but the rage is what made him feel real. It reminded him that he still had far to go before Beomgyu acknowledged who he belonged to, serving as a catalyst for him to try harder. 

He wasn't surprised when he felt the metallic flavor of blood meet his tongue; he was biting his lip so hard to keep from screaming that he was sure it was going to split in half. He loathed everything he was witnessing, but he couldn't bear to look away. Beomgyu was his, every part of him. That meant the intense sex with Taehyun was something he had to see. There was no turning and leaving until Beomgyu closed the curtain for the night—that's not how Yeonjun's love works.

Predictably, Beomgyu once again didn't even finish. Taehyun couldn't be bothered to let him cum, but Yeonjun wouldn't have left him hanging like that ever. Of course, Beomgyu didn't know that. He was too busy with meaningless people to pay attention to what was right in front of him. Yeonjun told himself that it was okay, that he would get to show Beomgyu how well he deserves to be treated soon enough, but that didn't stop the green gloaming of jealousy from eating him alive. 

Suddenly, the pair jumped up and scrambled for their clothes, exchanging few words as they redressed. Yeonjun furrowed his brows and finally released his bottom lip, curious as to what could've made them put themselves together so quickly. Beomgyu scrambled away while Taeyhun stayed on the couch, still re-tucking his shirt into his dark-wash jeans. 

Not long after, Beomgyu returned, but this time Heeseung, Chenle, Jeongin, and Taeyang accompanied him. It puzzled Yeonjun as to why they were all congregating in Beomgyu's small apartment so late at night, but when Taeyang removed several bottles of liquor from a plastic bag, things made more sense. They were having a party of sorts, while he stood on the sidewalk humming with the familiar sense of being alone.

He quickly noticed that everyone seemed to avoid Taehyun. Although they didn't appear to be outright rude considering the fact no one had tensed and turned from one another, they also didn't go out of their way to speak to him. The silver-haired male didn't seem to mind—he was too busy eyeing Beomgyu like a piece of meat and touching him any chance he got. He wished he could get closer to see their facial expressions more clearly because surely they had the same scowl on their faces that he did now. 

He loved how outgoing Beomgyu was. The younger danced around the living room, swinging off of each of his friends, causing wide grins to consume their faces. Beomgyu was like a ray of sunshine wherever he went, despite always donning black clothing and dark makeup. The boy's light was so alluring, and he couldn't help but feel incredibly selfish. He wanted the light all to himself, going unseen by all the unworthy people crammed in his apartment. 

But mostly, he wanted Taehyun out of the picture, no matter what lengths he had to go to.

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When Taehyun finally stumbled out of Beomgyu's apartment complex in the wee hours of the morning, Yeonjun could tell by the strong thrums of his heartbeat against his ribcage that he needed to do something now. 

The male didn't seem shit-faced, but he was very clearly not sober. It was his fault, really, that he put himself in such a vulnerable position. When he got a few feet down the street, Yeonjun crossed over and began trailing him, all the while formulating a plan as quickly as possible. 

Once his brain finally made some sense, he smirked under his mask and sped up, hand gripping around the knife he made habit of keeping in his pocket. Now, he was glad he had instilled this behavior because God knows he surely needed the blade right now. Taehyun didn't seem to notice the footsteps behind him, hastily catching up to his pitiful totter down the street.

Not until Yeonjun was right behind him, clamping a hand around his mouth and ducking them both into a dark alleyway before the male had time to react, much less scream. He felt adrenaline pulse through his veins as he held the knife up to Taehyun's throat, bringing raw fear to the eyes of the gray-haired male. 

"I'm only going to tell you this once, so listen closely," he threatened lowly, quiet enough that only the two of them could hear it. Taehyun didn't respond, but Yeonjun knew he heard as the terror only grew stronger in his face. "Stay the fuck away from Beomgyu, okay?" he continued in an almost taunting manner, enjoying taking all his pent-up jealousy and frustration on the sole cause of those feelings. 

Taehyun looked confused, but he was either too scared or too drunk to vocalize anything. Yeonjun was a little bummed he didn't put up more of a fight, but nonetheless, the thrill of having a human life in his hands pumped through every cell of his being causing his skin to crawl in the most pleasant way. "When I let you go, you're going to go home and block him on everything. You are never going to speak to him again. You are never going to be in the same vicinity as him again. Do you understand?" he all but growled in the younger's ear. "I said, do you understand?" he repeated when Taehyun did nothing but stare up at him with teary doe eyes, pressing the knife flush against his neck. 

The boy shook his head vigorously while simultaneously trying to create as much distance between himself and the knife as possible. He had started to cry by now, only causing Yeonjun to break out in a wicked grin even though it was hidden by his mask. "Good boy. You better keep your promise, too. I'm always watching you, Kang Taehyun." He felt Taehyun's body shudder when he said his name, and he wondered just what was going through that intoxicated head of his right now. 

"If you don't...well, I'll just have to gut you from the inside out," he mocked, using the knife to make a small incision along the side of his neck. Nothing more than a scratch, really, but enough to cause Taehyun to yelp into the palm of Yeonjun's hand and struggle against his firm hold. 

He pulled Taehyun closer to keep him still but moved the blade away from the tender skin of his throat. "I'm going to let you go. If you scream, I'll kill you right here," he cautioned. Taehyun nodded furiously again, tears freely flowing down his face and mixing with the blood on his neck before falling to the uncaring ground beneath. 

Finally, he loosened his grip on the younger, allowing him to break free. The boy stumbled away, immediately bringing his hand to feel the wound Yeonjun had created moments before. Surely the idiot thought he had slit him from ear to ear, even though there was but a thin stream of blood coming from it. He fought the urge to laugh in his pathetic face. Taehyun gawked at him for a few moments longer before sprinting away into the night, seemingly sobered by having his life nearly taken from him. 

Yeonjun felt his entire body begin to tremble as he closed the blade and slipped it back into his pocket. His breathing was erratic, so much that he had to focus on calming himself before he started to hyperventilate. How would Beomgyu feel if he knew Yeonjun just threatened to carve someone up for him? Hopefully, he would be honored, but he couldn't be sure that would be the case. Still, he knew he was doing whatever had to be done in the name of love, and that was something to be proud of. 

He waited a few minutes longer before he retreated from the alleyway, but his heart was still beating so hard he was sure his ribs would crack any minute. He decided to wander back to Beomgyu's apartment, where the younger was surely alone by now. Taehyun had been the last visitor to leave. Now, the only person in the apartment was a very drunk Beomgyu who was probably throwing his guts up right now. 

When he reached his usual spot on the street, Beomgyu was staring out into the night, much as he had done several days before when a cigarette sat perched between his lips. He didn't look as sad as he did last time but still seemed thoughtful, as if something was just off. Maybe he could sense that his boy toy almost got murdered, but Yeonjun would rather believe their connection was nowhere near that strong.

He appreciated Beomgyu's ability to just stop and think. When the world continued raging on beneath him, he managed to ground himself in his little apartment and just be present for a few minutes. Yeonjun was glad that they hadn't succumbed to city life, despite it being all either of them had ever known.

It was unfortunate, being down here watching Beomgyu think about the interworking of life and not being able to be a part of it. Don't get him wrong, he loved the chase, but sometimes he yearned to get it over with and have Beomgyu all to himself already. Then, they could have their own little universe, one that needn't be infiltrated by all the useless people Beomgyu fills his voids with.

He was aware his insides were dark, much darker than anyone could possibly realize. But he also knew his love was pure, stronger than whatever false adoration someone could dream up. He was fiercely loyal and would do anything as long as it was what was best for his lover. The problem was getting everyone else to see this. To outsiders, he was nothing more than a creep. Maybe that was true, but he owned the label with pride. They would never understand him, and that was okay. As long as Beomgyu understood, none of them mattered anyway.

His lips tugged in a smile as he watched Beomgyu reach in the direction of his record player. The younger's lips moved gracefully as he sang the words to the song that was playing. Yeonjun was too far away to read lips, much less hear the sound, but he had an inkling as to what he was listening to. 

If he was correct, "Plainsong" was reverberating through the walls of Beomgyu's apartment, the dreary but addictive sound surrounding his mind and body. Perhaps the boy thought of him when he listened to this album. How could he not, when he's the one that brought it to him? Furthermore, it's what brought them together. The menial happening that sent Yeonjun into a frenzy, desiring nothing more than Beomgyu's reciprocated love. 

Beomgyu looked so ethereal as he closed his eyes and moved his head around to the beat,  the street lights refracting through the window and landing elegantly on his features. Yeonjun felt his breath hitch as he examined the beauty in front of him, or rather above him. He wanted so desperately to run his fingers along those features, trace lines around his eyes, nose, lips, and jawbone. He wanted to wipe the makeup away and see him. He wanted to see the Beomgyu that no one else had seen before, the Beomgyu that was for him only. 

The male put his face in his hands, presumably feeling the effects of all the alcohol he consumed earlier. Yeonjun chuckled internally, watching Beomgyu rub at his eyes and drag his fingers down his face, pulling at the skin before letting go, causing his visage to snap back into place suddenly. Drunk Beomgyu was funny; he wished he was up there to be a part of it, but he was also content watching the male move so thoughtlessly and fluidly.

Too soon, he turned the record player off and messily pulled his curtains shut, the alcohol seeming to finally get to him too much. Yeonjun sighed when he saw the light behind the fabric flicker off, signaling that Beomgyu was off to bed and their shared night was over. 

This was always one of his least favorite parts, second only to watching Taehyun ravage Beomgyu in the most disgusting ways. He glanced at his phone, the screen glaring 3 a.m. into his tired eyes. If only Beomgyu knew the things he had done for him, including staying up until the darkest hours of the night. 

Reluctantly, he left his place in front of Beomgyu's apartment and began the trek back to the bus station to inevitably return him to his cold bed. He couldn't help but smirk as he passed the alleyway he had threatened Taehyun in earlier, his body beginning to tingle again as the feeling of the cool knife ghosted over his hand and the warmth of Taehyun's trembling body returned before dissipating into a dull electricity once more. 

He wasn't worried about Taehyun not following through with the ultimatum he was given earlier. If he didn't, Yeonjun had built up enough profound hatred to harbor no guilt in killing him. He wasn't a murderer, he was a vigilante, looking out for his lover and eradicating the bad things poisoning his life.

As he sat in the uncomfortable bus seat, he plugged in his earphones and shuffled Disintegration before opening Instagram and heading straight for Beomgyu's following. Much to his delight, Taehyun's name was nowhere to be found. Hopefully, he had scared some sense into the silver-haired male and he could leave this interaction with clean hands. 

He leaned his head back against the seat, allowing the music to encase him in bliss and thoughts of Beomgyu. Traces of his sweet cologne entered his nose, and the image of his striking smile as he laughed and bounced around his living room painted his memories. Beomgyu was such an angel, and he couldn't wait to caress the feathers lining his back and pluck them one by one. 

It was precious Beomgyu whose fate was to be held by Yeonjun, the epitome of darkness. But was that really such a bad thing?