MORE than a FAN || Beomjun/Yeongyu

When its you, I Falter

Yeonjun deserved someone like her. Someone who matched his glow, his world. Not some awkward, overthinking guy from Busan who couldn't even admit to himself how badly he wanted something more.

He hadn't meant to ignore Yeonjun. Not at first.

He'd just needed space to breathe.

To think.

But every time a message came in—each one softer, more honest than the last—it made it harder to pretend that Yeonjun wasn't exactly what he wanted.

And tonight... he finally read them.

All of them.

He was halfway back to his dorms, hoodie up, earbuds in but no music playing, when he reread the last one.

📱YEONJUN: It's not just fanservice.
📱YEONJUN: It's you.

He stopped walking, staring down at the screen like it might disappear if he blinked too hard.

Beomgyu's heart was thundering. The kind of thunder you couldn't run from. The kind that told him—no matter how hard he'd tried—this wasn't going away.

He didn't even hear the steps at first.

Just felt a presence near the gates of campus. Slow, hesitant.

Beomgyu looked up instinctively.

There was a guy across the road. Cap pulled low, mask on, hoodie zipped up to his neck. Definitely not from around here—there was something too careful about the way he was walking. Like he didn't want to be noticed.

And Beomgyu knew that walk.

His heart stopped.

Because even if the light was dim and the face half-hidden, he could recognize that shape, that way of moving—like every step was both arrogant and insecure.

"...Hyung?" he whispered.

The figure paused.

Turned.

And even from several feet away, Beomgyu felt it—that silent crackle in the air. The recognition. The ache.

He crossed the street before he could think. Before fear could stop him.

"You're insane," Beomgyu breathed out, heart slamming against his ribs.

Yeonjun pulled his mask down with a little smirk. "Hello to you too, Pabo!"

Beomgyu froze.

The name. The way he said it. Like it belonged to him. Like it was him.

"You came," Beomgyu whispered. "All the way here? Are you out of your mind?"

Yeonjun stepped forward. "Yeah," he said softly. "For you? Maybe."

Beomgyu wanted to look away. To keep walking. But his feet didn't move.

"You shouldn't have," he said instead. "You shouldn't be here. You're risking—"

"Everything?" Yeonjun cut in, voice firmer. "Yeah. I know. But I also knew if I didn't come now, you'd keep avoiding me. And I couldn't take that."

Beomgyu shook his head, stepping back. "You don't get it—"

"Then make me understand." Yeonjun's voice was suddenly raw. "Because I can't stop thinking about you. I can't stop wondering what the hell I did to make you pull away like this."

Beomgyu's throat closed up. "You—Yeonjun hyung, we're not the same. You're an idol. And I'm... I'm just—"

"Don't say 'just a fan' again," Yeonjun snapped, stepping closer. "You're not just anything, Beomgyu."