MORE than a FAN || Beomjun/Yeongyu

Almost, Maybe, Never

Someone who'd never be his.

Not really.

__________________

The scandal broke three days later.

A photo, blurry and unremarkable—Yeonjun walking beside a female idol after what looked like a dinner out. They weren't touching. Not even smiling. But the internet didn't need more.

"Are they dating?"
"They were seen together last month too."
"Yeonjun's type checks out 👀"
"They look perfect together tbh."

For fans, it was a casual stir-up. A trending tag. A little jealousy. A little fantasy. A little drama to break the boredom.

For Beomgyu?

It was a slap.

He sat on his bed, knees drawn to his chest, phone screen glowing with updates he hadn't asked for.

Because the timeline didn't matter. The context didn't matter. What mattered was the creeping realization that all of it—every glance, every flirt, every stolen second in DMs and that late night live—might've never meant anything beyond entertainment.

He wanted to delete the app. Throw his phone. Sleep it off like it wasn't getting under his skin.

But it was under his skin.

Because Yeonjun had made it so easy to believe. To hope. To feel special. And Beomgyu had been foolish enough to take the bait.

He didn't text him that night.

And for the first time in weeks, he didn't want to.

______________________

Beomgyu's Room, That Night

He curled up on his side, hoodie pulled over his head, and ignored the first three messages Yeonjun sent.

He didn't want to read them. Didn't want to feel them.

But he did.

📱YEONJUN: Did you see the chaos? 😭
📱YEONJUN: Tell me I still have your loyalty, Gyu~
📱YEONJUN: Or did I lose my #1 fan to a news article?

Beomgyu didn't answer for a long time.

Then, eventually:

📱PABO!: i'm not mad.

Because he wasn't. Not exactly.

He was just... unraveling.

📱YEONJUN: You sure? You sound like you're mad. Or sad. Sadmad.
📱YEONJUN: I didn't even like her like that, Gyu. It was dinner.
📱YEONJUN: Come onnn, don't ignore me. You know you're my favorite fan.

Beomgyu exhaled, heart caught in his throat.

There it was again.

"Favorite fan."

The safe title. The harmless one.

The label Yeonjun kept using, like it meant nothing. Like he meant nothing.

His chest ached with the weight of it.

📱PABO!: stop saying that.

A pause.

Then:

📱YEONJUN: ...What?**

Beomgyu bit his lip and typed faster than he could second guess it.

📱PABO!: "my fan." you say it like it's all i'll ever be.
like it's some safe little title where you can flirt with me all you want but still never mean it.

He didn't wait for a reply this time.

He closed the chat.

Put his phone face down.

And let the silence answer him instead.

_______________________

Beomgyu's POV

He regretted it the second he sent the message.

Not because it wasn't true.

But because it was.

And now Yeonjun knew.

He'd said too much—peeled the curtain back just enough to show what he was really feeling. And it wasn't admiration anymore. It wasn't playful teasing. It wasn't fanservice.

It was... affection.

Crushing, terrifying affection.

The kind that made his stomach twist every time his phone buzzed. The kind that kept him up replaying Yeonjun's voice messages at 3 a.m., wondering if there was ever something more in the way he said his name.

But the scandal?

The photo? The girl?

It snapped something inside him.

Because that girl was perfect.

Pretty. Well-known. Elegant. From the same world Yeonjun belonged to. The same level. The same status.

And most importantly?

She wasn't a boy.

Beomgyu stared at his reflection, his hoodie pulled halfway over his head like a shield, and whispered to himself:

"What the hell were you thinking?"

How could he be this foolish?

How could he start believing, even for a second, that Yeonjun's smiles were different with him? That the teasing meant anything?

He should've known.

Yeonjun flirted with fans all the time. He joked. He smiled. He made people feel special. That was part of who he was. Part of the job. And Beomgyu—stupid, hopeful Beomgyu—had mistaken it for something real.

Because he wanted it to be.

Because he was lonely.

Because somewhere along the way, Yeonjun stopped being just a name on a poster, and became someone.

Someone who made him feel visible.

Someone who made his heart do stupid things.

But maybe Yeonjun didn't even like boys. Maybe he never had.

And even if he did...

Even if, somehow, Yeonjun could feel something like that—why would it ever be for him?

Why not someone his equal? Someone pretty and polished and ready to handle the chaos of dating an idol?

Not a university student with messy hair, anxiety, and a hoodie that smelled like cheap detergent.

Not him.

Not Beomgyu.

♡~~♡
 

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