Sometimes, life felt like a question mark to Beomgyu. A strange, shifting maze of fleeting choices and uncertain turns. He often wondered if what he was currently living through was meant to help him grow-or tear him apart. Being someone who had always been aloof and emotionally distant, it amused him to find himself entangled in such a twisted, vulnerable place. Maybe his story was destined for light after all the darkness. Maybe the heartbreak, the confusion, the trauma-they were all paving the way to something better.
He didn't know. But what he did know was this: his life wasn't going the way he had imagined it. And yet, that was okay. He could only take it one day at a time and keep doing what felt right in his heart.
Now, the setting sun painted the sky in strokes of orange and gold. Beomgyu sat on a wooden bench in the park, his phone in hand, waiting for Yeonjun. He had texted the older to meet him there-to talk, really talk, and settle the tension between them.
While waiting, Beomgyu tapped on his phone, replaying the video Taehyun had secretly taken-the one exposing the jocks. Just watching it again made his spine shiver. He couldn't believe he had made it through that horrific encounter with his dignity still intact. But at least now, they had something to use against them. It was only a matter of time before those monsters were punished.
He and Taehyun had agreed to report the jocks and get them expelled. Still, nothing was certain. Even if the school took action, Mingyu and his gang might retaliate. Maybe they'd try to make their lives hell-or worse. Beomgyu wasn't naïve. He knew what people like Mingyu were capable of. And there was still one more thing left undone: Mingyu's phone. If Beomgyu could get his hands on it, maybe he could delete the photo that haunted Kai and protect Soobin from a career-shattering scandal. But he needed a plan first.
With a sigh, Beomgyu locked his phone and looked around.
That's when he saw him.
A man dressed entirely in black, standing by a tree. His face was partially hidden behind dark sunglasses, but Beomgyu could tell-he was staring straight at him.
Beomgyu stiffened. His breathing grew shallow, unease creeping into his chest. He glanced around, hoping maybe the man was looking at someone else-but no, there was no one nearby. The man was watching him. Only him.
A chill crawled up his spine, and something instinctive told him to leave the park.
He remained frozen, gripped by the stranger's gaze, until a gentle hand touched his shoulder.
"Hey, Gyu. Sorry for making you wait. Was I late?"
Beomgyu jumped slightly, quickly turning to see Yeonjun taking the seat beside him. Still disoriented, Beomgyu glanced back at the tree-only to find the spot empty.
The man was gone.
He blinked several times. Was I imagining it? he wondered. But he could've sworn someone had been there.
Yeonjun noticed the dazed look in Beomgyu's eyes and leaned closer with concern. "You okay? You look a little pale."
Beomgyu shook his head, brushing the eerie moment aside. "Yeah. I'm fine," he mumbled. He didn't want to think about it now. Not when there was something more important to discuss.
"...Yeonjun, I-about that night... I want to talk about it."
The older boy visibly tensed, leaning back against the bench as he nervously bit his lip. "S-Sure," he said softly.
They both knew what night he was referring to. The one filled with unanswered questions and strange emotions that neither of them had the courage to confront-until now.
Beomgyu opened his mouth, but nothing came out. It was like the words were stuck in his throat. His palms were clammy, and his heart raced with uncertainty.
An awkward silence followed, heavy and hesitant.
Then, at the exact same moment, they both said, "I-" and immediately froze, locking eyes.
A soft pink blush crept into their cheeks.
"...I don't know what to say," Beomgyu admitted with a nervous laugh. "My mind's blank."
"Same," Yeonjun chuckled. The tension between them eased a little.
Beomgyu gazed up at the sky, gently swinging his feet. "Have you ever been in love?" he asked quietly.
Yeonjun blinked at the unexpected question. "Yeah... a few times, I guess?"
A faint smile tugged at Beomgyu's lips. Yeonjun thought he looked beautiful like that-gentle, almost like a statue carved by emotion. His long lashes fluttered as he looked at the sky, his side profile illuminated by the fading light.
"What does it feel like?" Beomgyu asked, turning his curious gaze to Yeonjun.
Yeonjun hesitated. "Thrilling," he answered at last.
Beomgyu blinked, lips forming a pout as he tried to process that. Thrilling? He didn't quite understand how love could be described that way.
Yeonjun, amused by his expression, slowly reached over and placed a hand on top of Beomgyu's. The gesture made the younger's eyes widen. Warmth bloomed in his chest, his heart thudding erratically in his ribcage.
"Gyu... are you... in love with me?" Yeonjun asked, his voice soft.
Beomgyu's breath hitched. He looked away, unable to meet the older boy's eyes.
"I... I don't know," he stammered. "If I say yes... are you going to tell me to forget about it?"
Yeonjun tilted his head. "Do you want me to?"
Beomgyu paused, then quietly whispered, "No."
Yeonjun smiled at his shy honesty. There was something so disarmingly sweet about Beomgyu-every look, every word, every gesture seemed to pull him in deeper.
His conscience warned him to stop. That this was dangerous. Unacceptable. Risky. But his heart... his heart was already gone.
Could they keep this secret? Wait until the time was right? Or would the weight of it all crush them in the end?
Neither had the answer.
All they knew was that, at that moment, nothing else mattered.
Yeonjun lifted his hand to Beomgyu's face, gently brushing a strand of hair aside as their faces slowly inched closer. Their lips met-softly, tentatively-like a whisper shared between two trembling hearts.
It was warm. Sweet. Addictive.
When they finally pulled away, breathless and dazed, Yeonjun smiled and whispered, "I think I've fallen for you too, Gyu... Do you think this is okay?"
Beomgyu's lips curled upward. "Who knows? Should we find out for ourselves?"
They laughed quietly, their hands finding each other again as they leaned in for another kiss-this one even more tender, as if sealing a promise.
But somewhere, hidden in the shadows, the man in black watched them silently. He raised his phone and snapped a photo... then vanished without a sound.
+×+
It was Beomgyu's first time stepping into Yeonjun's home. The moment he crossed the threshold, he felt his heart flutter, both with anticipation and nervousness. The soft lighting, the calm silence, the subtle scent of something clean and warm-it all made the space feel intimate, like it belonged to a version of Yeonjun he hadn't seen before.
They didn't linger long in the living room. With a gentle tug of the hand, Yeonjun led him upstairs, wordless but full of meaning. And before Beomgyu could take in the bedroom, his back was against the door, eyes wide as Yeonjun leaned in and kissed him.
The kiss was sudden, hungry, and charged with emotion. Beomgyu gasped into it, breath catching, heart hammering in his chest.
"Yeonjun-wait," he mumbled, pulling back slightly, hands trembling as he rested them against Yeonjun's chest.
The older stopped instantly, his expression softening with concern. "Too fast?"
Beomgyu bit his lip, cheeks flushed with heat. "I... I've never done this before," he confessed, barely above a whisper.
There was a pause-Yeonjun blinked, taken aback-but then his lips curved into the gentlest smile.
"You're serious?" he asked, brushing a hand through Beomgyu's hair. The younger nodded, avoiding his gaze, clearly embarrassed.
Yeonjun laughed, not mockingly, but with fondness, and held Beomgyu's hands in his. "You're ridiculously cute, you know that?"
Beomgyu let out a shaky breath as he smiled sheepishly, still unsure of what came next. But he trusted Yeonjun-trusted that this would be okay.
Their eyes met again, and the silence between them grew heavier-not awkward, but charged. The kind of silence where a thousand words were unspoken, where emotions were tangled and real.
"I don't want to do anything you're not ready for," Yeonjun murmured, brushing his thumb over Beomgyu's cheek.
Beomgyu, in turn, leaned into the touch and gave the smallest nod. "I want to... I want to try. With you."
And with that, everything slowed down.
Yeonjun kissed him again-slower this time. Tender. Deep. A kiss that said you're safe with me. His hands never roamed too fast, never forced anything, but found their place along Beomgyu's jaw, his neck, his waist-every touch deliberate, exploring with reverence.
They made their way to the bed, and the world outside ceased to exist.
There was only the warmth of skin, the soft rustle of fabric, the way Beomgyu's breath hitched every time Yeonjun whispered something reassuring against his skin. There was the electricity of fingertips tracing delicate lines along a trembling frame, and the careful way two bodies tried to learn each other, hearts in sync.
Beomgyu's inexperience wasn't a barrier-it was a treasure, something Yeonjun handled with immense care. Every step was slowed, every movement accompanied by soft questions and patient pauses.
"Are you okay?"
"Does this feel alright?"
And every time, Beomgyu answered with a nod, a whisper, a kiss.
The room was filled with breathless sighs and gentle moans, the kind that weren't about lust, but longing. It wasn't about urgency-it was about connection. A delicate unraveling of layers. A dance between curiosity and surrender.
Time became liquid. Moments melted into each other.
At one point, Beomgyu reached up and threaded his fingers through Yeonjun's hair, pulling him closer, letting their foreheads touch as they breathed in each other's air.
"I didn't know something could feel this... warm," he murmured, voice shaking.
Yeonjun smiled against his lips. "It's not just the heat, Gyu. It's you."
What followed was a beautiful symphony of devotion-lips searching, hands learning, hearts pounding. Everything they did, every kiss, every gasp, every whispered name was fueled not just by desire, but by emotion. They weren't just exploring each other's bodies-they were embracing each other's fears, their honesty, their trust.
Eventually, wrapped in the soft afterglow of it all, their limbs tangled and breath heavy, Yeonjun pulled Beomgyu closer, brushing a strand of hair from his flushed face.
"How do you feel?" he whispered.
Beomgyu rested his head against Yeonjun's chest, eyes fluttering closed. "Like I'm home," he said softly.
A kiss was placed to his forehead.
And then they stayed there, hearts still thudding in the dark, content to be held, to be known, to simply be-wrapped in something gentle, real, and unforgettable.
+×+
At the Choi residence, the soft hum of a ticking clock filled the otherwise quiet living room. Mrs. Choi sat stiffly on the edge of the couch, her posture composed but her eyes sharp and unblinking as she faced the man seated across from her-a figure cloaked in discretion, his presence nearly silent, like a shadow trained to go unnoticed.
Their conversation was low, heavy with tension and secrecy.
"How was the assignment?" she asked curtly, voice cold and firm. "Did you find anything?"
The man nodded, pulling a single photograph from the folder in his hands. "Yes, ma'am."
He slid the photo across the coffee table toward her. The image was clear. In it, Beomgyu and Yeonjun were locked in a kiss, their expressions soft, intimate... completely unaware they were being watched.
Mrs. Choi's eyes narrowed. She reached for the photo with steady fingers, but the moment her gaze landed on it, the calm façade shattered.
Her breath caught. Her hands trembled. She stared at the image as though it might vanish if she blinked-but it didn't. It was real.
Her son. Kissing his teacher.
Her grip tightened around the photo, crumpling its edge slightly as her eyes widened in shock. For a few moments, she sat frozen, the weight of what she was seeing refusing to register fully.
"What is the meaning of this?" she finally hissed, her voice cracking under the strain.
Rage, cold and blinding, coursed through her veins.
She stood abruptly, pacing the floor like a storm about to break. Her mind raced. Humiliation. Scandal. The very idea of her son engaging in something so reckless-so disgraceful-left her dizzy. What if the school found out? What if the neighbors did? Their family's name... their reputation... everything she had built could be shattered.
She clenched her fists, teeth grinding together as a fresh wave of fury overtook her. Beomgyu had crossed a line. A dangerous line. One she had feared but prayed would never be real.
"He lied to me," she muttered under her breath. "All that talk about tutoring, schoolwork, late meetings... It was all a cover."
She turned to the agent, her eyes dark. "I want every detail. Where they meet. How often. Who else might know."
"Yes, ma'am," the man responded without emotion, ready to carry out her orders.
Mrs. Choi's jaw tightened as she stared down at the photo one last time, her heart pounding not just with anger, but with a deep, spiraling fear-for her son, for the future, for everything they were about to lose.
Beomgyu was already in too deep.
And she would be waiting when he returned.