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lushinart · 1 month ago

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thought i'd do a little barista!soobin sketch for the fic but i think he accidentally turned out a little psychopathic looking. i think there's a little murder behind those eyes i'm so sorry soobie

Misplaced Loyalty

a choi beomgyu oneshot

₊⊹ summary: navigating a crush on your sweet new coworker Soobin proves harder than you thought when all of your thoughts are still stubbornly stuck on Choi Beomgyu. [ao3 link]

₊⊹tags: strangers to friends, best friends to lovers, light angst, no extremely heavy topics, happy ending, sfw but with suggestive themes

⊹words: ~11,5k

masterlist

Soobin has stuck around for about two full months now. Generally speaking, that is barely any time at all, but the sudden realization is enough to give me pause as I wipe down a table, small frown etched on my face as I try my best to recall his first day here. No, I’m not mixing the dates up in my head, it has definitely been at least two months since our superstar barista found his way into our shop and turned our entire dynamic on its head.

He showed up out of nowhere on a slow day, inquiring if we happened to be looking for any help at the moment. At first, we were convinced he wouldn’t even make it through his entire first month. Not that he’s bad at the job; on the contrary, actually — he’s patient, polite, and any occasional mistake is easily overlooked once he flashes you his sweet apologetic smile and scrambles to fix it before you get the chance to call him out on it. For a couple of days, our groupchat is set alight with extravagant theories to explain his sudden appearance. We wonder if he’s just a broke small-town boy moving into the city in pursuit of his modeling dreams, silently scrutinize his outfits to try to make out his real wealth, theorize that maybe his super-rich family is threatening to cut his credit card access until he is deemed worthy. On one thing we all begrudgingly seem to agree: he’s too good for the mediocrity of this place. He’s perfect, almost too perfect, and we’re bound to not be the only ones to notice.

The first time a customer crosses a line with him, my manager eyes me nervously, worry evident in the way her breath seems to catch in her throat, and I simply nod in understanding before grabbing the mop and intervening. The girl had made a big show of spilling the iced coffee all over herself, making a huge mess on the floor and garnering a few irritated looks from other tables. Her plans were obvious, no trace of subtlety in her tone as she offers to swap numbers with the stunned boy. Whether or not he picks up on it is unclear, but he seems to have no intention of giving into her wishes, quickly bowing in a profuse apology and muttering politely about a refund before fleeing back to the safety of the counter. Her friends avoid my eyes when I ask for some more room to clean, stifling their laughter as they scoot over closer to each other and shoot her some playful remarks.

There is a tacit understanding between the staff that we now hang on a very fragile balance. Soobin is our golden boy, driving in decent traffic with all his non-coffee related charms, and we can’t bear the thought of losing him now. We experiment with his schedule, assign him to our slower shifts and watch in amazement as the small adjustment actually brings change about in no time. Once the borderline harassment starts to get too hard to ignore, we encourage him to stick to the work behind the counter, minimizing his interactions with the public, hoping the short chats at the register satiates them just enough to keep coming back.

A few awkward conversations later and it becomes apparent that we were too quick to make big assumptions about this guy. As it turns out, he’s been in the city for a while, moving in a couple years prior to study at the nearby university, the main source of our customers. He had been working at another café but decided to leave due to some disagreements. Pinned under our curious gaze, he chooses not to elaborate, and we agree not to push out of sympathy for the poor guy. He’s also not as oblivious as we were willing to believe from his innocent demeanor, often joking about his dashingly good looks with a smirk once he’s comfortable joining in our closing hours banter. He’s more than used to handling all the attention he gets, and we collectively let out a breath of relief once the elephant in the room is finally addressed.

Two weeks was all it took for him to be promptly adopted by Yeonjun. That’s sort of how it works in our friend group, a pretty random group of people brought together by his magnetizing personality. It’s hard not to want his approval, and winning it means you get to wander in his orbit and meet all his other ducklings, slowly mingling among ourselves until we all feel like family. He strutted into my workplace one day and the two of them just seemed to effortlessly click. A fan of Soobin myself, I ignored the annoying nerves building in my chest and encouraged Yeonjun to ask him to join us for an outing, which would inevitably turn into a permanent invite as he adjusted seamlessly with everybody.

I was freaking nervous. Of course Soobin would be fine, he’s Soobin. What’s not to like? That’s the problem, I liked him a little too much. Now, that wouldn’t be a big deal when it comes to most of my friends; even if they weren’t simply oblivious to it, I could survive their knowing smirks and an occasional playful interrogation. It was Beomgyu I worried about.

The first official group hangout happened about a month after I first met Soobin. Everyone knew about him by now, maybe even exchanged some words with him at the shop in passing, but Yeonjun was still strategic with it, arranging for us to meet at a mall to go see a movie. We could chat for a bit while waiting in line, get a feel for everyone’s comfort level while sharing snacks back and forth, and any silence would feel natural rather than awkward. There was still enough time for interactions, and if Soobin somehow managed to say anything outrageously stupid in the meantime, we could always politely part right after the movie and go hang out at someone’s place without him. It went quite well. A few of us desperately had to pee after demolishing all of our sodas during the session, and soon everyone was comfortably laughing and sharing their opinions while waiting for each other in the dimly lit corridor outside the bathroom. Barely any intentional stalling was needed to catch a vibe from Soobin before he was dragged along with us for a long night spent sprawled across someone’s living room.

Beomgyu took a liking to him just like everyone else. I had watched out for his subtle reactions, flittering glances thrown his way throughout the night going mostly unnoticed, but it seems that I had nothing to worry about. As we sat on the floor with our backs against the old couch later that night, I searched his face one more time for any indication of annoyance, only to find him snorting to another one of Soobin’s stories from work. His eyebrow quirked up slightly under my scrutinizing gaze, responding to my silent ‘So what do you think?’ with his reassuring smile, his hand rubbing my back a few times for good measure, a clear message being sent through his relaxed fingertips: ‘I like him’. I felt like a nervous teen after succeeding in introducing my boyfriend to my mom in high school, but the hard part was far from over. A harmless new friend is a far cry from your best friend’s crush, but a win is still a win, so I relaxed for the night and leaned into his side as I joined in on the banter.

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Beomgyu and I were pretty good at non-verbal communication, a much-needed adjustment after we had gone from mostly hanging out one-on-one to mainly seeing each other in group settings. I’m kind of grateful for it now, although I’m sure the build-up of more complicated matters (matters that require actual words and explanations) relegated for a later date will end in a very uncomfortable conversation. He’s starting to catch up on my feelings towards Soobin, squinting between us subtly the first time he notices how I’m only glancing at him second after a joke. The second time, as soon as my gaze drifts from Soobin, adorably hunched over in laughter, and lands on him next, he’s tilting his head in puppy-like curiosity, a question dancing on his eyes. The look he shoots me isn’t accusatory yet, but I know what he wants to know, and eventually one of us is gonna have to bring it up. My stomach flips and I make a mental note to avoid getting caught again.

I can’t quite put into words what I’m worried about. Deep down, I know Beomgyu both likes Soobin and genuinely wants the very best for me. The problem is that with the best friend title comes the belief that you know what qualifies as ‘best’, and Beomgyu does not, in fact, know shit about that. The current predicament can only be truly understood by those familiar with the fragility of the male ego. Soobin needs to be good, not better. He can’t be perceived as a threat, whatever the hell that might mean to Beomgyu.

To be clear, Beomgyu and I aren’t the typical friends who spent their entire friendship in a game of sad mutual pining. I can confidently say we aren’t that clueless, although I can’t say whatever we actually are is any better. Sobbing in the backseat of Yeonjun’s car after one of our first hangouts, I pitifully confessed that I thought Beomgyu might be my right person, wrong time. Cliché, I know, and so did Yeonjun, but he just politely patted my arm in silence and allowed me to rant about how fucked up it is to fall for a close friend for almost an entire hour. Looking back, I can’t tell if it was all just the kind of run-of-the-mill sympathy I expected from him or a particular kind of pity, the one that comes from knowing something I don’t. In that moment, Yeonjun might have thought he was about to watch his friends be a real car-wreck in slow-motion, and he was preparing to be the very unenthusiastic airbag. Luckily, it worked out.

At the time, my feelings had been boiling inside me for a while, and soon they began bubbling up to the surface in ways that were obvious to anyone who cared to notice. He could pretend not to see the blushing and awkward looks for a while, but not forever if he wanted to at least allow me to save some face. Once it finally got too awkward to avoid addressing, Beomgyu told me he was still recovering from when his ex had done a number on his heart. So I had my answer. I just needed a good cry in someone’s car and we were all good to go again.

I can’t pinpoint when, but eventually I realized wrong time was just a really pitiful excuse to hold on to it. Actually, if I had to make an educated guess, it was probably after I watched him fall for someone else only a couple months after our conversation, but whatever. I was now sure there was no right time, which in turn made me accept he had to be the wrong person. The new perspective actually helped a lot, and soon after, when I was the one holding him as his sobs wrecked through his sore throat because they didn’t work out, I felt no twinge of satisfaction. I knew as soon as I opened my mouth to tell him I was sorry that I really meant it.

Becoming interested in other people myself wasn’t as hard as I imagined either, but I learned very quickly to keep those things to myself. Beomgyu could be a real asshole, even when he masked all his judgement and criticism behind poorly thought-out jokes. After one too many amused told-you-sos, I made sure to warn him that his comments got on my nerves, so my following crush announcements were now met with lukewarm encouragement at best, which I appreciated. Sometimes, this kind of effort contributed much more to maintain our dynamic than sincerity.

I know Beomgyu will hesitate to directly ask me about Soobin, even though everything about his demeanor screams that he’s dying to know. This time things are different. They know each other and we all hang out together, so he can’t exactly be a bitch about Soobin and pick him apart without consequence. When I lay in my bed twisting and turning as sleep insists on evading me, this is the thought that comforts me the most: this is different. Even if he let his childish thoughts take over, poisoning his mind with bitterness towards Soobin, he would never do anything about it. He knows how jealousy could come across, and he has grown far too careful and protective of our friendship to give me any false hope anymore. Beomgyu may have some trouble rationalizing his emotions sometimes, but he’s not cruel.

Even so, I was fully willing to let Soobin be just another one of my crushes, existing on a theoretical plane that never reaches its arms far enough to touch our delicate friendship. It’s there, and I do all the dumb embarrassing things you do when you’re dealing with those pesky feelings, acknowledge it as a thing much like you may acknowledge the weather, and that’s it. But this time, there is one little factor that I forgot to take into account (mostly because I didn’t even think it would get this far): I might actually get the boy. Now what?

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Soobin and I have been spending a lot of time together. What started as a pretty average relationship between coworkers soon yielded a comfortable routine comprised of frequent casual texts and lunches together. I was surprised at Soobin’s availability to form an actual bond with me. He is, after all, a big beacon for attention, so I half expected a sort of polite resistance to my efforts for closeness at first. Being met with none, I prayed to the coffee gods, grateful for having such a convenient, unsuspecting place in the popular boy’s life.

His good looks certainly helped, but what aroused the most curiosity about Soobin for me was his relaxed willingness to listen. I figured someone like him must deal with a fair share of boring conversations already — I imagine him graciously nodding along, always humming precisely at the right times as people try their best to impress him. I didn't want to burden him with my useless rants right away, encouraging him instead to lead the conversation and lending a listening ear. Unexpectedly, I found myself blabbering back just as much because, as it turns out, Soobin asks a LOT of questions.

That is how, after the ice was definitively broken, we found ourselves bickering like an old couple at the shop, shooting hushed quips back and forth between the necessary customer service pauses.

'That is the most braindead take I've ever heard.' I tease, an amused smile adorning my face as I lazily mop the floor, sticky with the spills from the overly sweet beverages.

'Why?' He rounds the table to properly face me, arm still engaged as he viciously rubs at a particularly stubborn stain. 'He's supposed to be a good guy, that's why I like him.'.

'What makes you say that?' I shoot back 'Just because he had a good moment? That doesn't erase the other crazy stuff!'

He looks genuinely flabbergasted at my request for an explanation, probably secure in his belief that his opinion is simply the most obvious one. ‘Well why else would that scene be there?’

‘Well bad people are still people, they aren’t walking around being awful 24/7, that would just make the character have no depth if he was cartoonishly evil like that, right?’

He mulls it over for a second, settling on a simple shrug. ‘I just think we’re supposed to forgive him or something.’

I scoff, but we quickly move on to a different subject, occasionally bickering here and there. Before he goes to finally put down the wet rag, he playfully hits my shoulder with it, scurrying to the back before I can retaliate. I threaten to shove the mop somewhere very unpleasant and he responds with delightful laughter from behind the counter, where he’s ducking like a little kid in trouble.

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Soobin’s not working today, and that’s how I find myself contemplating his time here. This is usually when his influence on me and the café hits the most, in the quiet moments when the lack of him is so obvious. Two months is simultaneously surprisingly long for us to have been able to keep him around and way too short for me to feel this strongly about him. It’s crazy to think a few weeks was all it took for his absence to be so felt, so bothersome. But that’s just how it is: there is no life I can imagine anymore that doesn’t include Soobin in it.

Still, I know I’m probably getting ahead of myself, especially because his newness might be a big contributing factor to his attractiveness. Well, that and the fact that he measures up really well against a certain past infatuation. I keep finding myself unwittingly comparing their traits in my head — Soobin is taller, always gives me a lot of space to expand on my thoughts, and he takes special care with his appearance, a nugget of knowledge I had the pleasure of acquiring when I caught a glimpse of his impressively toned stomach as he casually stretched once, t-shirt riding up just enough to allow for a decent view. Every time I catch myself doing it, I scold myself mentally. I’m aware that Soobin does not deserve to be compared to anyone else, and guilt always creeps into my musings, but I simply cannot avoid these thoughts. Besides, isn’t that normal? Don’t we all compare our current circumstances to our past experiences, perpetually seeking out the bright side? Surely, I must also have a few boxes to tick and expectations to live up to in Soobin’s mind.

Then I think of Beomgyu, wonder if he thinks of it too, if it bothers him even a little bit to think I might see Soobin as an upgrade, and my conscience is back to nag me. Should this thought bother me that much, though? Isn’t it fair to move on, preferably to someone who makes me happier? But I’m just fooling myself, waiting for my rationality to finally soothe the doubts I know I’m still fighting. The truth is, I don’t want him to feel that way. I want to keep his mind from its darkest corners, to protect him like he never thought to protect me when I was the one watching him hand in hand with someone else. My awareness of all of this, of my misplaced loyalty, keeps getting harder and harder to ignore.

Worst of all, all these so-called ‘improvements’ might just be the world’s biggest cope. Soobin is a wonderful guy, charming in ways I can’t properly put into words, but I do my best to anyway because I need to pinpoint them. I need him to be better because I couldn’t have what I really wanted, and that’s the very best comfort I could find in this situation.

In reality, his attractive height might make us look cute, but it bothers me once I realize my head would sit all wrong in the middle of his chest, too far from his neck to properly breathe in his scent or place a chaste kiss on his bare skin. He looks amazing, but it makes me feel weird to assign any value to that sort of superficiality. Lastly, and perhaps what annoys me the most to not be able to appreciate in full, Soobin is a freaking sweetheart, a really considerate one, always perfectly matching my heated energy in every stupid conversation without ever really crossing any lines. He’s really cute when his face is twisted into his signature confused frown, mouth open in a pout as if he’s waiting for the right words to speak themselves before eagerly launching himself into an argument, hands enthusiastically waved about as if crucial to his explanation. I appreciate his demeanor, a perfectly acceptable balance between being a gentleman and deranged, but my thoughts often trail to Beomgyu, the way his stubbornness was always perfectly orchestrated to get on my nerves and how he so graciously presented me with the chance to escalate our fight to a messy wrestling match on the couch. It’s fucked up, I know, but he always left the sweetest bruises.

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‘What are you talking about?’ Kai barely glances up from his phone, the sound of potentially juicy gossip the only thing that has managed to make him acknowledge our presence for the past hour.

‘Oh, now you care.’ I tease, faking some annoyance ‘Yeonjun, you’re up’ I instruct him to recall the highlights of our conversation for me, sinking deeper into my chair.

‘Someone’s got a date with Soobin.’ He raises his eyebrow suggestively, establishing eye contact with Kai.

‘And what’s the problem with that?’ He adjusts his position on the couch, as if to signal we finally got his attention ‘Don’t you like each other?’

‘Well yeah, I guess, b-’

Rudely interrupting my sad excuse for an answer, Yeonjun quips ‘But you are scared shitless.’

‘Am not! I see the guy all the time, that’s the problem. I’m not actually sure if this qualifies as a date.’ My voice trails off pitifully as I voice my thoughts, receiving an incredulous look from the blond boy. ‘What!?’ I squeak out defensively.

‘How do you not know?’

‘W-’ I take a deep breath ‘You would have known by now if your loser ass wasn’t more interested on that screen you’ve got there’ I huff.

He’s not impressed, judgement seeping from his half-lidded stare.

‘He suggested we go to his favorite restaurant together the next time we get off the afternoon shift together’ I explain, nervously bouncing my leg to a frenetic rhythm. ‘We eat together all the time, so this could literally mean nothing. There was something in his tone, though’ I quickly add.

‘So it was flirty?’

‘I think so, yeah.’ I mutter awkwardly.

Yeonjun takes pity on my poor confused self and jumps back into the conversation, trying his best to reassure me ‘He likes you. He’s just playing it safe for now, getting a feeling for the vibes before he gets a little bolder with it.’

‘I would too’ Kai deadpans. ‘Imagine it doesn’t work out and then you have to keep seeing each other at work.’

Yeonjun and I share a stunned look of disbelief before they start a bickering match about what not to say to a friend in their time of need.

‘Shut up, both of you.’ I let out an annoyed sigh ‘I get what you mean. But he’s Soobin, he can literally walk into any open shop and be welcomed with open arms. I’m telling you, if this all goes to shit, he better step up and quit.’

‘Fair.’ Yeonjun nods.

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As it turns out, it was a date. Sort of, anyway. Since a couple months had been enough to cover the kind of stuff you usually expect to bring up on a first date, we ended up just talking like we always do, which didn’t help with my doubts. I couldn’t quite tell if he really was being more charming and inviting than usual, or if it just seemed that way because I had finally allowed myself to believe Yeonjun and consider he might actually be interested in me. After a nice meal during which we exchanged funny stories for a while and he told me all about this group project he was having trouble with lately, I managed to summon some courage from God knows where and shyly mumbled out some of the things that had been on my mind.

He had looked completely disarmed in the moment, the warm dimmed lighting of the restaurant doing very little to hide the heat spreading through his face as he tried to carefully choose his next few words. I wasn’t faring too well myself, awkwardly chuckling as he stumbles mid-sentence here and there. He definitely didn’t expect this, probably hoping for our chemistry to naturally dictate the direction of the outing and speak for itself, my direct question catching him off guard and throwing him off his game. I reach out my hand to pat his arm reassuringly, letting him know it’s alright, he can breathe, there is no right or wrong answer to this. He explains as best as he can that he was indeed hoping to get closer to me, but he didn’t know how to do so without putting pressure on me, worried a miscalculated step might have a terrible effect in our work relationship and new friend group dynamic.

‘I get it’ I lean back on the wooden chair and allow for some silence to settle between us, a moment to calm our restless heartbeats. I briefly admire the restaurant’s intricate wall details, sighing just before the silence stretches long enough to grow a palpable tension between us ‘It might be too early to act rashly, right? I’m kinda scared, too.’

I see him scramble for the right words again, wanting to reassure me he’s not really expecting the worst, not trying to cower from anything before we can actually have the chance to explore our potential, and I’m chuckling again, endeared by his flustered hand movements.

‘No, no, it’s okay. I feel the same way.’

He finally releases some tension from his body, bunching up his jeans in his sweaty palms, chuckling back in relief. We agree to let things flow naturally, to not make a big deal out of it and let chips fall where they may in time. By the time we get our dessert, we are back to our relaxed conversation.

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This is the day. More out of some sense of obligation than anything resembling real disposition, I decide it’s time to have a proper conversation with Beomgyu. Our workplaces are close by, two of the many businesses that owe their steady traffic to the student body of the nearby university. We were once just like them, running through these streets, dripping overpriced artisanal gelato on the burning pavement in the suffocating summers and brushing shoulders under improvised jacket tents in the rainy days.

His shift starts half an hour before mine, so sometimes I walk him to work and kill some time with him before walking down the street to the café, just like today. We walk into the building and I can immediately feel the familiar scent of this place enveloping me. There is something incredibly comforting about the fact that it never changes.

Beomgyu has been working at this printing center for a while, practically getting adopted by the owner. She had taken a liking to him when he came over to print some song lyrics he planned to submit to one of his professors for feedback; apparently, the sweet lady had found him so endearing that this job position was his to take up before he even had to ask.

I wandered into this very printing center one day, heavy shoulder bag pressing down on my tense muscles to the point of giving me a slightly funny walk, and dropped the bag on the front counter with a relieved sigh. The sound of the door alerted him to my presence, but I didn’t notice him approach me from the back of the shop, face practically shoved inside my bag as I frantically searched for my microscopic pen drive. I let out a frustrated grunt, pulling out my laptop and carefully setting it down to the side before shoving my arm back into the bag and rolling my eyes as my fingers come into contact with the rough edges of my keys for the thousandth time, the stupid little thing still nowhere to be found.

‘You can empty it on the counter, if you want. I will be easier that way.’

My head shoots up in surprise, blinking my poor tired eyes a couple times in order to bring the source of the voice into full focus, and suddenly I want the ground to swallow me whole. Right in front of me, in a moment that could have only been handpicked by Satan himself, is Choi Beomgyu, in all his glory. He’s tilting his head at me in amusement, taking in all the details of my disheveled appearance as he does a poor job of holding back his laughter. This is just what I needed to add onto this already shitty day. I had spent a restless night going over two tough assignments, dedicated to pushing through my annoying headache and a rumbling stomach until every last word was written down and properly formatted before I allowed myself to step back into the world of the living. This was the last thing I had to get done before having to hand them in the next morning, and I hadn’t bothered to shower or cover up my blooming dark circles before dragging my ass here to get the job done.

‘Uh, that’s okay...’ I mumble out, drained of any life force.

I curse myself mentally for not knowing how to be a functional human being. Why the hell didn’t I put the pen drive in a convenient spot to reach into if I knew I was going to need it as soon as I got here? I mean I know I’m fucking tired, but- Wait. No, I did. I reach into the back pocket of my jeans, and I simply close my eyes in disbelief, too tired to even properly emote at this point. I pull out the little blue device and hand it to Beomgyu.

‘Just the two files in the Assignments folder, please.’ I weakly call out.

‘Got it.’ He calmly sets about the task, his back turned to me as I put away my laptop and hurriedly comb through my hair in a manner I hope is not too desperate.

I don’t think you’re supposed to comment on your customer’s stuff, but I watch as Beomgyu pulls out the freshly printed papers from the printer and reads the header of the first assignment, a smile on his face as he hands them to me.

‘I’m pretty sure I’ve had that professor too!’ He cheerfully comments as his slender fingers dance over the register’s keys.

‘I know’ I let out, before realizing how insane that may sound without added context ‘I mean- I remember you from a different writing class with him. Last semester.’ I quickly add.

He shapes his mouth into a satisfied little ‘ah’, and I expect a polite smile, maybe followed by some excuse as to why he didn’t really recognize me, something like how he probably sat at the front of the class or just wasn’t good at remembering faces, but instead he offers me a beaming look of recognition, giddily nodding ‘I thought so. I wasn’t 100% sure though.’

I walk out through the door with a brand new pep in my step, smiling at the thought of Beomgyu trying to pinpoint my features in his recollections of the past, sure that I looked familiar but not wanting to risk making an ass out of himself in case he was wrong. That was over two years ago.

Now, I absentmindedly hand him some paper to stash away somewhere as if I’m part of the staff myself. We’re really good at dancing around a topic when we want to, so I know I’m going to have to be more direct if I want this to happen. He already casually asked me earlier if Soobin is also working a shift today and I chickened out of talking about it, simply shaking my head in response, but I need to get this over with eventually.

‘I wanted to talk to you about something.’

He turns his head, searching my face for any indication of a sudden change in my mood, only to be met with my best attempt at a serene expression.

‘Go on,’ He half-assedly motions with his hand for me to continue ‘I’m listening, just tidying this up over here.’

‘I’m only bringing it up because some of the guys already know, and I figured it would be weird to not let my best friend in on it’ I preface, voice wavering slightly. I clear my throat, evening my tone as best as I can before ripping off the band aid in one go ‘Soobin and I have been getting along really well’ I start, regretting that he is currently with his back to me, which means I can’t fully dissect his reaction ‘So we like... have this thing going on right now. We’re not putting a name to it or anything. I guess you could call it like a talking stage, though.’

There is no immediate reaction. While he’s working his way through digesting this information, I’m unintentionally holding my breath, a million outcomes running through my mind in mere seconds.

And then ‘Oh, okay.’ He replies, not bothering to stop his movements or glance in my direction. ‘He’s cool.’

I know that regardless of any question he might be itching to ask right now, he’s hesitant to. I had presented the crux of the situation in a straightforward way, so it wasn’t necessarily an invitation for any sort of opinion or advice. In a way, I was effectively leaving him with very little choice but to respond this way. Still, even after that fateful day when we established that Beomgyu was not to pester me anymore when it came to matters of the heart, it was never this simple. In fact, this was so uncharacteristic of him that it stirred something in me. Had I finally found someone good enough not even his overprotective critical eye could pick apart?

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There is a persistent breeze burrowing its way into our tousled hair as we walk aimlessly after a successful grocery run. Every one of our steps is accompanied by the crunchy sounds of our bags filled with all kinds of junk food and the skin of our arms keeps being bitten by the early fall chill, but none of us seems to mind as the wind echoes out our carefree laughter through the streets.

We plan on finding some place to sit down and eat at some point, but for now we are just turning corners at random and catching up with each other. Kai and Taehyun are a few steps ahead, seemingly deeply engaged in a private conversation, and me, Yeonjun, Soobin and Beomgyu trail behind them at a leisurely pace.

Yeonjun had been telling us about a ridiculous drama that ended up with his instagram account being temporarily suspended even though he had taken no part in any of the bullshit leading up to it when we come across an eye-catching billboard for a temporary art exhibition.

‘Oh, isn’t that the thing you were talking about the other day?’ Soobin peaks his head from behind Yeonjun’s frame, trying to establish eye contact with me, and points excitedly.

I turn to look in the general direction of his outstretched arm, perking up as I recognize the lively colors of the advertisement I had gotten a flier for just a few days ago. We’ve naturally halted to a stop to examine it together; to my left, Beomgyu squints to make out the text on the billboard.

‘Yeah! That’s the one.’ I confirm with a pleased nod.

‘We should check it out someday.’ Soobin offers nonchalantly.

There was no big explosion, no crying babies or even sounds of sirens erupting in the background, but something in the air had shifted so violently in that moment that there may as well have been. This is, of course, only my dramatic recollection of what that single second felt like.

‘Yeah.’ I mutter back.

Surely picking up on how shaky my response had been, Soobin immediately turned to Yeonjun to ask for his availability, suggesting he should pick us up in his car if possible. I should feel guilty for making it awkward, forcing him to include our friends in our plans in an effort to cover it up, but I’m just thankful and relieved.

His diversion had been quite smooth, and it probably would have been imperceptible if all the people present weren’t so aware of our current relationship. Yeonjun shoots him a funny look at first but is also quick to be on board, claiming he’ll find the time for it if need be. The moment was over quickly, but the look in Beomgyu’s eyes is something I’ll never be able to forget.

The very millisecond Soobin had finished speaking, before I could even think to formulate a response, my eyes had landed on Beomgyu. It’s a very hard habit to break, that instinctive need to know what’s on his mind, and a quick scan of his face was enough, making my blood instantly freeze over. It’s hard to put into words the way he manages to channel so many feelings through just the slight downturn of his pressed lips, especially because he wasn’t trying to. In fact, he was probably trying his hardest to offer no reaction, but I know Beomgyu’s features in ways he couldn’t even know them himself, and I have no trouble recognizing the unique blend of emotions: sadness, fear, acceptance.

He is distant for the rest of the day. He doesn’t go overboard with it, physically still as close as any one of my other friends would be, and I’m sure no one else even notices the difference, but I know it’s there. I sense his nervous glances and miss the usual spark in his eyes when he commands our attention with his jokes, now dimmed by something I wish I could reach out to and crush between my fingers. I know what it is, or at least my mind comes up with the only explanation it can for it. Even though he knew about Soobin and me, that moment was decisive. It was now being brought up so openly, so casually; he never would have admitted it, but maybe he was still hoping that all that time that had gone by, those weeks with no new developments, were a sign that nothing was going to happen at all — a hope that was completely shattered by this public admission. Now that it was out there, he had no choice but to accept it, taking it as his definitive sign that he no longer had the right to selfishly linger in our special dynamic, that vague space in which our closeness is not too much, but never enough.

He might have still been around, sitting nearby, engaging with the group as if nothing had happened. Still, the distance between us could fit entire oceans; once you’d felt Beomgyu’s calm warmth, anything different from his usual closeness would feel like the coldest depths. All I can think about is how I can’t talk to him right now, the urgency sitting on my chest like an unbearable weight.

Clarity is forced onto me without me even needing to rationalize anything. Of course I’ll have to come up with some sort of plan, act tactfully, but the path itself is obvious. There is nothing I wouldn’t give up to fix what was broken tonight.

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The next day, I text Soobin. I know he’s going to be as understanding as anyone could in these circumstances, and I make a promise to myself that I’ll try my very best to make it up to him for his relentlessly sweet disposition we don’t always deserve.

Soobin is not completely ignorant of my bond with Beomgyu, so I’m sure this will not come as a huge surprise. Knowing how strongly Yeonjun cares about maintaining an open and laid-back atmosphere between all of us, I can imagine how he must have approached Soobin before, explaining our convoluted history in an effort to look out for him, just in case. I’m a little embarrassed it even had to be done, addressed in hushed tones as if it were some sort of dirty secret, but I’m really grateful I didn’t have to be the one to admit how weak my control over my own tender heart is. Soobin has never attempted to bring it up in an accusatory manner, either out of sheer compassion or because he didn’t really see it as a threat at all. Perhaps he even shared the same pity for me as I had once seen reflected in Yeonjun’s eyes, watching me as if I were a fool trying to capture the wind with a net.

I promise I’m not completely delusional; of course I didn’t expect to get a boyfriend and still maintain the same exact dynamic with Beomgyu as before. Allowing myself to imagine my life with someone new, I conceived a future where a new love filled me to the brim and forced my most stubborn feelings to overflow, spilling away into harmless territory. The thing is that I didn’t expect this , the distance, to feel this way; and if the breath stuck on his throat that day is anything to go by, neither did he. Is it toxic to hold this so close that I end up sabotaging any chance at an actual relationship with someone else in order to protect it? Maybe so. It has, however, become very apparent now that the delusion was in believing I even had a choice, that I’d ever willingly loosen my hold on it. I’m not giving up an inch of Choi Beomgyu.

Soobin responds as expected, assuring me that he’s not upset at my choice to step back and continue on as just friends. He might even be a little relieved, glad to finally establish a clear course for our relationship after a few weeks of this limbo. I cry a little into my pillow after writing out a long message of appreciation for his patience, telling him what an honor it is that he even gave me his time of day in the first place. He jokes that I’m being dramatic, lightening the mood, but follows up with a likewise genuine text.

‘[10:38] I don’t regret getting to know you. You guys were the best thing about this summer.’ I clean up my tear-stained face, putting an end to my pity party as I allow his tranquilizing words to soothe me. Soobin has surely secured his place in heaven.

I’m still a bit restless for the remainder of that morning, trying to gather enough courage to reach out to my distant ghost. I could just see him in two days, walk him to work as if nothing had changed, but that would not be the right time and place, and I can’t even trust myself to act normally until the end of our shifts, when I could finally get him alone.

Eventually, I text him — it’s a small mercy, this warning sign of what’s to come, giving him time to prepare accordingly. For all I know, if I had simply brought up yesterday’s events out of nowhere, virtually ambushing him, he might have denied all of my assumptions, unsure of what I was asking of him. Instead, I take a terrifying leap and decide to let myself be vulnerable, to admit all of it for him. I tell him I need to see him, that I had broken things off with Soobin and want to talk about us. I don’t quite say the quiet part out loud ( I love you I love you I love you and fuck you for making me do this ) but I hope he can pick up on my urgency and read it all between the lines.

‘ [17:53] ok. meet me here?’

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Beomgyu lives in a quaint one-bedroom apartment on a very lively street, the sound of everyone and their bustling lifestyle floating to the third floor like an eccentric, never-ending melody. I knock on his door and nervously shove my hand back into my pocket, rocking back and forth on the soles of my feet in anticipation.

As he opens the door in silence, unsure of what to say, I take in the familiar living room one more time. He used to have a roommate who slept on a sofa bed in the corner, but Jeongin moved out right after we all finished our degree and now Beomgyu’s got the whole place to himself, the sofa all folded up now with some random pillows haphazardly thrown over it. The corner of my lip automatically tilts up as I feel nostalgic for the chaotic aftermath of our nights full of gossip and irresponsible drinking games, when we all ended up curled up on top of each other right there, the perfectly fine bedroom forgotten.

I recall how one time, after one of our wild nights, Beomgyu had begged me to listen to him as he stated Jeongin was completely off limits, claiming he’d rather die than have to put up with both of us in the house.

His tone had been deceitfully playful, and I matched it in full as I tapped my pouty lip in fake deliberation ‘Hmm, what if we just take it to my dorm instead, then?’

In an instant, his smile had dropped and he stared back at me with an icy gaze. ‘That’s not funny.’ And that was the end of it.

Beomgyu softly closes the front door behind me and awkwardly shuffles towards the kitchen to grab me a glass of water as I stand there looking around for a few seconds. He hands it to me with an expectant look on his face, not yet daring to ask the question that’s threatening to crawl out from his throat.

I look into the cup, press my dry lips together, filled with indecisiveness, and mutter out ‘I’m not ready yet’, bringing the glass up to my lips and taking a small sip. He nods. Then, he grabs two cold drinks from the fridge, sets them down on the coffee table along with a bag of Cheetos, and fiddles with the blinds for a bit in order to dim the room’s lighting. We sit side by side on the couch and he hands me the TV remote.

I pick out a random movie from our shared list and we settle into a comfortable silence only occasionally interrupted by the sounds of our sips and his slow chewing. A few minutes in, he pitches up his voice to make a lighthearted comment about someone’s ugly outfit, mocking my usual commentary. My nose scrunches up in exaggerated annoyance and I elbow his side playfully, shooting him a side glance before I begrudgingly admit it’s definitely something I would say. I’m grateful to him for setting the mood. Sighing softly, I lay my head on his shoulder; Beomgyu responds by snaking his arm around my figure, scooting slightly closer to lean into my touch.

After a while, I feel him carefully trying to adjust his position against me to relieve his now numb muscles without disturbing me, and I flick his head impatiently, mumbling that he is an idiot for daring to act so hesitantly around me. I circle his torso with my arms, encouraging him to properly prop himself against me, and his body almost instinctively reacts by pushing one of my arms out of the way to rest his head on my lap. He lets out a little content sigh when I bury my hand in his shaggy hair and I tease him by comparing him to a well-behaved dog.

Only a few seconds later, taking advantage of an unimportant transition in the movie, I croak out ‘Are we back to us?’

From this angle, I can see him blink nervously and I almost regret asking before he’s right back to himself, responding with a nod, back snuggling into me even closer. The next few minutes are spent in silence as we both return our gaze back to the screen, but soon enough a small sniff coming from his still figure betrays the warm tears streaming down his cheeks. I know for a fact this is not an effect of the movie, but I don’t ask, not daring to interrupt my hand’s motion against his scalp.

Another couple minutes go by and then, so low it would be easy to miss if every cell of my body wasn’t attuned to his, he whispers ‘I’m sorry.’

He doesn’t know how to put his guilt into any other words. He wants to say he never meant for this to happen, express how he wishes he could have controlled himself better so that I would have never noticed his hurt. When he had read the texts, his throat had almost closed up with the suffocating feelings of regret that came crashing down on him. He had one job, how could he be so selfish as to be anything but happy for me as I had opened my heart to someone? And now, hearing my fragile voice, how eager I was to confirm we would make it through this too, those emotions were stirring within him once again, manifesting as that painful burning in the back of his eyes.

I wonder how he expects me to acknowledge his quiet white flag, if he even wants me to reply at all or if that was just supposed to be his revised response to my previous question, feeling that a nod had not a been satisfactory enough admission that he, too, was aware of yesterday’s implications.

‘Nothing to apologize for’ I reply softly.

He rolls over carefully in my lap, movie now completely forgotten, and shakes his head. ‘I’m sorry’ he affirms — he’s not pleading, he’s not trying to request anything for me, my forgiveness or otherwise. He’s just trying to tell me as best as he can that he’s feeling shitty for his actions, confessing. I understand now.

I shoot him a weak smile, trying my best not to let my own unshed tears fill my eyes to the brim. As amazing as he is at transcribing an impressive range of human emotion onto his songs, he’s not always great at expressing his feelings to me, but he’s trying his best. Taking advantage of this moment, both of us so willing to be vulnerable for once, I start telling him about some of the things that have been on my mind: how I know I’ve alienated him out of a part of my life before by avoiding telling him about my so-called romantic ventures, how I wish I could have gone about the Soobin thing more maturely and lastly, now with similarly tear-stained cheeks, how I never expected to feel so awful about yesterday’s outcome.

He’s crying harder again, and I wipe a few of his tears away, begging him to tell me what’s on his mind.

‘I’m sorry, I’m not good at this.’

‘Try. Please.’ I plead.

‘Sometimes...’ he starts ‘Sometimes I feel so dumb around you. It’s not your fault, but you always know exactly what to say and you have all these arguments for everything and, and-’ He takes a deep breath. ‘I feel stupid and scared that I can’t keep up with you, can’t make anything come across well. That’s why I’m like that...’ he avoids my eyes, lowering his tone almost down to a mere whimper ‘Why I just fight you. And you never get mad, so...’

It makes me sad to hear he feels this way, but everything he’s saying makes sense, and deep down I think I’ve always known his reasons. Words are sometimes out of reach for him, but this thing we have, our physical proclamations, what he calls our fights, this is a language we both speak.

‘I know. Our bodies have limitations though, you know...’ I let out softly, one last attempt at asking him to speak to me.

He turns his back to me again, resigned to try but still a little bit uncomfortable at the idea. And then, at his own pace, he crafts his response to my speech. He assures me it’s not my fault for putting a stop to his past meddling in my private life, that I was right to set those boundaries since he was way out of line. I softly nod in appreciation for his understanding.

‘If you want...’ he starts ‘You and Soobin...’ he sniffs once more, quickly wiping his stuffy nose as he searches for better words, ‘I’ll do my best to act right, I promise. I was just cold before because I- I just didn’t... I just couldn’t control my reaction. It’s childish, I had no right to be jealous, but I wasn’t expecting how things were between you two and it hurt.’

‘Yeah, no’ I nod quickly, signaling I see where he’s coming from but eager to put a stop to this particular thought process ‘It’s not your fault. I chose to end it. I just realized it’s not what I wanted. I mean... sure, you might have had a role in making me realize it, but I didn’t do it just to avoid making you sad.’

‘Promise?’ he looks up at me expectantly.

‘Yes. I hated how ridiculously scary the thought of losing us was.’

‘You’re not gonna lose me.’

‘But you pulled back from me.’ I point out, hurt evident in my hushed tone.

‘I just didn’t think it was right- you know- like, in front of Soobin’ he stumbles on his words.

I interrupt before he can go back to his attempts at defending his behavior ‘Don’t do it again. Ever. I don’t care even if it means there can be no one else.’

He doesn’t expect that sort of crazy statement to flow from my lips so casually, frowning in bewilderment ‘That’s so fucked up, though. I can’t do that to you.’

‘Beomgyu, don’t act like you don’t know how I feel about you. You’re not, like, forcing me into a sad life of celibacy. I’m just not at the point I thought I was and I didn’t want to end up hurting Soobin because of it.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Hmm?’

‘How do you feel about me?’ He presses.

‘Is this you trying to get me to beat your ass again right now?’ I joke, but he’s looking up at me with his big confused eyes and I don’t think he’s just choosing to act willfully ignorant right now. I blink three times in confusion, gathering my thoughts ‘What do you mean? I like you, I told you. We don’t need to tiptoe around it, even if our friendship has kinda only survived this long by ignoring it.’

I feel something shift in the air as he takes in his next shaky breath, eyes flittering about as if he’s finding this information hard to compute. ‘...Still?’

‘Wh-’ I search for the right words, any words, confronted by the embarrassment of having to dwell on this, like a ruthless finger pressing down on a fresh bruise ‘Well, yeah.’

‘Oh.’ he mutters.

I try my very best not to start shaking his shoulders in frustration, keeping in mind that Beomgyu needs his time to process things before he can offer a proper, thoughtful reaction. Still, I hate the direction this conversation has taken, insecurity creeping into the surface of my every pore. ‘Did I just fuck us up again?’

Before I can panic from the fear building up in my body, he interjects ‘N-no!’ and then, much softer, ‘No. I like you, too.’

I beg your everloving pardon?

‘What the fuck are you saying to me right now, Choi Beomgyu?’ I force the words right out of my throat. ‘Measure your next words carefully, please.’

He looks up at me like a scolded puppy and sets himself back upright, facing me on the couch, although his gaze is now cast downward. He’s got a lot to explain.

I patiently reposition myself on the couch as well, tucking a leg under my weight in order to turn fully in his direction. He shyly reaches out both his hands across the space between us to fiddle awkwardly with the fingers of my right hand, his own way of apologizing for not being able to look at me right now. Both of our hands are kind of unusually warm from our nervousness, but I can barely register anything due to the pressure of my own frantic heartbeat drumming in my ears.

He slowly beings to explain that he wasn’t trying to be an inconsiderate asshole and had in all honesty been under the impression that I had moved on from him by now. That was the one and only reason why he couldn’t have brought up his feelings earlier, back when he had first started developing them.

You see, once you love someone all the way up to that point when the only thing that matters anymore is their happiness, when you can’t imagine being selfish with your desire for them, that is when you’re pretty much fucked, rendered powerless and bound to sit by and watch as they let their heart wander; sometimes closer, if you’re lucky, sometimes somewhere you can’t follow. You can’t even resent them for keeping you hostage in a cage with no walls. When he was distracted dating his ex, Beomgyu had not yet been at this point, but the breakup had led him right there.

The short-lived relationship hadn’t been all that dramatic. It hadn’t been a battleground for many arguments; in fact, there were barely even any remarkable words exchanged, and none that he could bother to recall now. At first, it was the nothingness of it all that had attracted Beomgyu, happy to indulge in the superficiality of such an empty shell of a relationship for a while on account of its simplicity, but it was also its downfall in the end. Much to his dismay, he had found himself gradually becoming more and more annoyed by all the ways this sad excuse for a romance fell short in comparison to his connection with his best friend. He wasn’t necessarily ready to do a 180 and confess, still coming to terms with his feelings and all, but he had at the very least settled on the breakup.

According to Beomgyu, he had quickly started going through some scenarios in his head, planning on doing something about us when it felt right, but things didn’t really go how he anticipated. Being held up in my arms, crying through his shameful recounting of the breakup, he had expected me to guide him right back to me, assure him he was better off by my side and plead with him to finally see me — but I hadn’t. What he saw in my eyes in that moment was nothing but sheer sympathy, a genuine effort from my part to comfort him with no second intentions. He wondered if this was the karmic payback he deserved for turning down his best friend so carelessly before.

I shake my head in disbelief as he describes his way through his thought process, how he came to believe he was too late to chase after me. Of course he could have done so anyway, charmed his way right back into my heart, but guilt had twisted his insides into a cruel conviction that he was not worthy, not after what he had done. He had messed up our timing, so in turn he was to watch me choose a better man. Acknowledging this didn’t make watching me do it any easier, though. And boy, did his ill-timed flame have a talent for picking people who got on his nerves: smarter, funnier, impossibly handsome. All so unbearably different from him. And so, he had developed a talent for picking them apart, hope’s wretched arms shoving their way through his throat with venom at any chance, moved by the sick need to try to poison my mind with their flaws.

‘I gave up hope when you told me how mad that stuff made you’ He continues. ‘I was just hurting you more. It’s all I do.’

‘Its not, though. I stuck around anyway, didn’t I?’

‘I guess... You are way too loyal. You should have told me to fuck off way earlier.’

I chuckle softly despite the seriousness of the matter ‘Did you really think what made me mad was your temper? No. I just couldn’t understand why you suddenly knew how great I was when it came to other men but for some reason it never occurred to you to just step up and be the better option yourself.’ I start, weirdly thrilled at the chance to finally unload it off my chest ‘I mean, I knew you didn’t feel the same, you had made it clear for me before, so I had no reason to assume you were just feeling jealous. All of it just came across as pettiness.’

He looks away in shame again but still makes an effort to provide his point of view. ‘I was wrong to do it, but I wasn’t coping well with the heartbreak. I literally just thought confessing would be even worse.’

Silly boy. ‘Hurt me a little so you don’t hurt me a lot, uh?’ I tease ‘Well, you were actually just robbing me of the chance to love you.’ No, he wasn’t. I had never even stopped. Just because you choose the comforting dark of your closed eyelids, doesn’t make your bleeding heart any less red.

He’s awkwardly rubbing his neck at my choice of words, not wanting to continue on this back and forth of conflicting points of view much longer but not quite knowing how to move this along from here. He just wants to know what’s supposed to come next.

‘Is it okay if I kiss you now?’ I ask softly, resisting the urge to tease him even further by lifting his chin up with my hand. The direct question is a glaring violation of our habit of letting our bodies do the talking in moments like these, but the urge to be responsible for the pink hue spreading over his ears is so hard to resist and so, so worth it. Still, he knows he’s always welcome to switch back to our private language at will, so he does.

The first contact is rougher than he intended so he quickly covers my lips with a million small, soft apologies. After a few seconds of adjusting to it, I wonder how I could have possibly lived so many years without the feeling of Beomgyu’s lips on mine.

We are briefly startled by the sound of the end credits’ intense music in the background. His hand blindly searches the couch for the remote for a few seconds before he has to lift himself up to look for it properly. My amused laughter at his grumpy impatience makes him roll his eyes at me, and he retaliates by deciding this (terrible, by the way) song is not the worst soundtrack in the world after all, not bad enough that he can’t climb back over me and resume our make-out, a very effective method of drowning out my laughter.

We turn into a real mess of tangled limbs, our hands reveling in the discovery of all the expanse we hadn’t uncovered in each other before. Beomgyu’s fingertips had been made quite rough by tiny scars from pressing so hard on his guitar strings, but they feel so light as he tentatively squeezes my sides in his embrace. Still, once he ghosts them over my thigh, I shoot him a disapproving look, motioning with my head to the bag of Cheetos on the table.

‘I’m not letting you touch me with your nasty cheese-infected fingers’ I swat his hand away and watch as he shoots me a look of mock offense, as if I had just doubted his gentlemanly ways. Before he can retort that he would never think to do such a thing, I propose ‘I have a better idea.’

As I drag him by the hand to the bathroom, turning on the shower, any traces of that gentleman are long gone.

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Two days later, we’re walking arm in arm down the street to his work. The sky seems to have unlocked a range of brand new hues just for us, making everything seem like a dream we don’t have to wake up from as long as we don’t let go of each other.

He turns to me to ask if I think it’s going to be awkward with Soobin today.

‘I don’t know,’ I answer in earnest, ‘but it doesn’t matter, I’m expecting it. We’re probably gonna need some time.’

We walk into the printing center and warmly greet the owner. She responds with the usual pleasantries, asks if we ate well and apologetically asks Beomgyu for his help with some boxes as her back had been bothering her that day. He immediately moves in her direction, gently pushing her down into a chair to rest before we both get to moving the stock into its proper place, tidying up in no time.

They had a big order to get through today, but it was monotonous work. After a while, I lazily slip down from the desk I had been sitting on, looking up from my phone at his working figure occasionally. It’s about time to get going for me.

Before I can slip away for the day, he asks me to pick up something for him from one of the printers in the front row. I don’t think much of it as I stroll over, but a loud snort makes its way out of my mouth as soon as my eyes land on the single piece of paper sitting on the tray. In big obnoxious letters in the Comic Sans font are two simple words: ‘Be mine?’.

I walk back over to him with it in hand, pointing at it in amazement.

‘Oh my god, I totally think we might have had the same writing professor. Hmm, yes.’ I pretend to analyze it carefully one more time ‘I definitely recognize this beautiful cadence.’ I joke.

He laughs along with me but stands awkwardly with his hands shoved into the back pockets of his jeans, waiting for my actual answer.

‘Yeah, sure, I think this is a great proposal.’ He slides closer in response, wrapping an arm around my waist. ‘But you’re gonna have to upgrade the amount of paper you spend on me if you wanna keep me around. I’m only dating you for the unlimited copies, you know?’

He hits my arm in disapproval but joins in on the playful teasing in the same beat. ‘Just know I’m expecting free coffee in return.’

I scoff. ‘Yeah, no. But I’ll see what I can do about adding a few unauthorized stamps to your loyalty card, how’s that?’

He shakes his head in disappointment. ‘Damn, I guess I’ll have to try a Starbucks barista next, then.’

I let out an incredulous laugh and tousle his hair. We quickly press our lips together as a farewell for now.

I walk a little briskly to work, probably already a couple minutes behind schedule by now. As a result, I look a little flustered as I walk in. Soobin is already putting on his apron behind the counter, and he looks up at me with a knowing smile, as if he can see right through the soft blush on my cheeks, amusement dancing in his eyes.

Yeonjun must have already told him about the recent developments. Oh, my sweet little snitch. I make a mental note to ask him later if he plans on comforting Soobin for me, too, if he thinks he’s all that subtle with his moves in the dark. I’m once again grateful to him for sparing me from another awkward conversation, though.

If there’s any trace of bad blood between us, he doesn’t let it slip even once through his usual cheerful tone, and the whole shift goes by without a hitch. Soobin and I don’t share a telepathic ability to speak our minds through brief glances, though. Thats why, when closing time eventually rolls around, I thank him for being my friend with actual words.

taglist: @jellyyjn

a/n: I apologize for any possible formatting mishaps! I didn't write directly on the tumblr app and I did my best to correct the ones I found but I might have missed a couple ^^

masterlist

#txt x reader #txt soobin #txt beomgyu

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