MORE than a FAN || Beomjun/Yeongyu

When its you, I Falter

He liked him.

Like, really liked him.

Not just as a fan. Not as a distraction. Not even as a joke.

He liked Beomgyu for the way he saw Yeonjun past the idol version of himself. For the way he wasn't impressed by fame, for the way he challenged him, and for the way he made him feel real.

And the fact that Beomgyu had pulled away—was ignoring him—meant that somewhere along the way, he'd hurt him.

Yeonjun's chest tightened at the thought.

He had flirted. Carelessly. Openly. Like it was all a game. And maybe it had started that way. But not with Beomgyu. Never with him.

God.

Had Beomgyu thought that?

Had he believed Yeonjun was just stringing him along?

Suddenly, every missed call and ignored message felt like punishment. And Yeonjun took it, silently. Because maybe he deserved it.

But he wasn't going to stay quiet anymore.

📱YEONJUN: I know you're mad at me.
📱YEONJUN: I know I probably made you feel like a joke.
📱YEONJUN: But you're not. You never were.

He typed, paused, deleted.

Started again.

📱YEONJUN: I didn't mean to hurt you.
📱YEONJUN: I didn't realize what I was doing until you stopped being there.
📱YEONJUN: But I'm sure now.
📱YEONJUN: I don't care if you ignore me forever. I just needed you to know this.
📱YEONJUN: It's not just fanservice.
📱YEONJUN: It's you.

He stared at the blinking cursor.

His thumb hesitated.

Then—send.

He didn't expect a reply. Not tonight.

But he'd said it.

Finally.

Beomgyu's pov

He hadn't slept properly in days.

It wasn't that he didn't want to—he was just terrified of the dreams. Every time he shut his eyes, he saw flashes of Yeonjun. Laughing. Teasing. Smirking into his phone screen. Smiling like Beomgyu meant the world to him. And then he'd jolt awake, heart pounding, guilt slamming into his chest.

Because those dreams weren't fan dreams anymore. Not the fluffy kind he used to have, where being noticed was enough.

This—whatever it was that had bloomed inside him—was something else.

Something deeper. Something that shouldn't have happened.

He wasn't supposed to feel this way about someone like Yeonjun. Not someone who was everything—the fame, the glow, the unattainable ideal. Not someone who could have anyone, especially someone that actually fit in his world.

And especially not a guy.

The scandal had been the final nail in the coffin. Seeing Yeonjun's name trend next to a beautiful actress's—photos, "sources," comments—it made something hollow and ugly rise in his throat.

Jealousy.

Followed by shame.

He had slammed his phone down that night and cried. Not because of the scandal itself, but because of what it told him: