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...
Beomgyu wasn't sure if he imagined his name, muffled through the crack in the doorway. He shuffles closer, peering out the plexiglass to find a familiar outline pressed against the door. He recognizes more of his clothes—a blue Gucci jacket he wore to his fifteenth birthday party, along with white slacks he bought from the mall. Yeonjun makes it all look more fashionable, but Beomgyu can't make out Yeonjun's expression.
He's not sure if he wants to.
He presses against the door, bringing his lips to around where he heard the sound before. "Yeonjun?" he says again. He doesn't know why he's being so quiet. There's no one else in this room, unless the ghosts of past patients count.
"Beomgyu?" The sound comes again, muted due to the tight, almost non-existent space.
"Yeonjun?" Beomgyu says again, louder this time.
"Beomgyu."
Beomgyu almost laughs, at how stupid they must look repeating each other's names a million times. But he can't even bring himself to smile. His emotions are all smothered, hazy in the light of his outburst.
"I'm here," he ends up saying, even though it feels like a fish bone is stuck in his throat.
"Are you okay?" Yeonjun sounds like he's swimming—Beomgyu realizes he must sound the same, and even though the separation may not seem like much, it still feels like they're worlds apart. Beomgyu never guessed he would end up in a room like this, let alone a psych ward.
"No," he says quietly, doubting whether the other boy will hear him.
"Well you will be," Yeonjun says after some time, like they need to give some space for their words to filter through. "You're strong, Beomgyu. And I'll always be here, for as long as you need."
"I've always needed you," Beomgyu says, trying to fight the temptation to cry again.
"What?" Yeonjun says. "Sorry, it's so hard to hear."
"It's okay, hyung." Maybe it's best if he doesn't hear how messily emotional he is. "They never lock anyone in here for long. I'll be out before you know it. And I haven't even punched any more walls."
Yeonjun chuckles, and Beomgyu can see the other boy's smile lines when he shuts his eyes and lets his imagination take over.
"Guess I'll have to shower with another boy today," Yeonjun says, teasing.
Beomgyu smacks the door. "Don't you dare." His voice raises to account for some of his usual rowdiness.
Yeonjun laughs again, louder this time. But his voice is quiet after a long pause. "Beomgyu, don't give up. I'm here for you, as you've always been there for me."
Beomgyu doesn't answer. He's too busy trying to hold back tears. He's always been a crier, but he's getting tired of losing himself all the time. He waits, pressed against the door, trying to make out Yeonjun's footsteps as he leaves. When he hears him go, he sinks to the floor. He draws his knees up to his chest. Head down, he thinks about being twelve again. Yeonjun holding him, like he was the whole universe.
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