Beomgyu and Yeonjun have been friends since childhood. Beomgyu, the son of a CEO of a luxury car company. Yeonjun, an orphan on a scholarship for their arts school. The feelings have always been there, but neither brave enough to voice them.
When Be...
"So..." Mr. Oh's brow is drawn, his face tilted to one side. "You seem to be doing well, Yeonjun. Your mood is fine, you don't feel like hurting yourself, or hurting others. And you don't seem to need any medication for any prevalent issues."
"Oh," Yeonjun scratches the back of his neck, then pulls his hand away quickly. He can't give himself away as nervous. He is the school it boy. He's got this. "But I still feel a bit unstable."
"Then you may stay a while longer," Mr. Oh says. "But we'll draw up the plan for your discharge soon enough."
Yeonjun wants to protest, but everyone is packing their notes and standing up. He has no choice but to exit first.
Beomgyu is waiting. The younger boy has been pacing, and picking at his nails. Yeonjun isn't used to seeing this nervous side of Beomgyu, but he'll accept his best friend at whatever state he's in. That's what he's here for. He'll be a shoulder to cry on, a face to look at in the darkness. He'll be the dancer for him when the other boy loses the beat. He won't ever make Beomgyu feel guilty for something out of his control.
They aren't twelve anymore. Things aren't so simple. Yeonjun will try to figure out a way they can align again, however. Even if it isn't in the literal sense.
He's sure Beomgyu likes him back. In the past, he was blinded by his own fears of what they'd become if one of them admitted his feelings. But he noticed the way Beomgyu caught his breath when he offered to shower together. No matter how much his own feelings might blind him... Beomgyu won't be shy unless he is picturing them together as well.
In their creative arts school, Beomgyu is majoring in pop vocals, and Yeonjun in hip hop dance. So since they were fourteen or so, it was natural to find their own friend groups, getting a bit more distant than Yeonjun would like. But people like Mina knew the truth—they are inseparable no matter what. He wanted to bridge the gap that had formed. But Yeonjun was too scared. His feelings terrified him, and he didn't want to ruin years worth of friendship by being selfish.
He regrets it now. Why did it take a mental breakdown for Yeonjun to realize that he should've taken the risk?
"Beomgyu—" he starts as they walk back to their room together. Room 553.
But the nurse interrupts, polite yet impatient at the same time. "Please stay in your room until dinner. Before dinner, there will be medication management, and then one more hour of free time."
"Thanks," Beomgyu says, even though there is a quiver in his voice. Could he still be scared of living here for the next weeks, or even months?
Beomgyu doesn't need a love confession right now to further complicate things. So Yeonjun will wait for the right timing. He's been waiting since they were nine years old, so he could wait a bit longer.
"I'll take a bit of rest," Beomgyu says, lying down in his Prada and Adidas. Leave him to match two wildly different brands together and still look flawless. That's why he surpassed Yeonjun in school, with an eclectic sense of style. Yeonjun can't help but notice how handsome he looks, the desire to kiss his friend on the cheek almost swallowing him whole.
Beomgyu drifts off. Yeonjun watches.
When he was nine, Yeonjun was lonely. Lost without his parent's guidance and loving presence.
At eight, he was in the car when his father swerved to avoid a box on the road. They crashed straight into the median strip. Yeonjun remembers the yell that was ripped from his throat, the glass all around shattering. He passed out. Hours later, he was in the hospital—the nurse grave's expression confirming the horrid news.
Sometimes, you need an event like that to shock you into knowing what matters. But the world is cruel, and lessons can be just as deadly as a double-edged sword. Why is God so cruel? Taking away just so you'd have a revelation later on? You can gladly go without the lesson, remaining in a state of bliss. But even the bliss will form cracks sometimes, until the ground shifts underneath your feet.
Beomgyu constantly begged his parents to adopt Yeonjun. But Yeonjun didn't mind going from family to family. As long as at the end of the day, he would get to come over to Beomgyu's place and play Mario Kart and talk about their favorite idols—the performers they'd like to be like in the future.
They got into the arts school together, at fourteen. It was their dream to go to school together, but Yeonjun didn't imagine he and Beomgyu would get a bit distant from what they once were. Still best friends, but things had changed. And Beomgyu wasn't as eager to share every part of his life.
Is that why he hid his mood? When he started to spiral? Yeonjun eats himself up just thinking about it.
Beomgyu snores lightly. It almost knocks Yeonjun out of his reverie. Almost.
Because he dwells on one thing. Even if Beomgyu feels the same way about him right now, those feelings can change. Just like their dynamic changed once they entered the arts school together.
Feelings are fickle, and overrated. So Yeonjun will focus on one thing only—supporting his friend until he gets healthy again.
As much as he longs for a kiss, he'd much rather see Beomgyu attending class again, stunning all of his classmates with a smile like spring rain and a laugh like music.
Best friends, or not best friends, Beomgyu deserves a chance at a fulfilling life.
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Hi! I just want to give a shoutout to everyone who has supported this story so far. Your comments mean the world to me.
