locker room

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Beomgyu should've skipped school.

The hoodie he wore was up to his chin, and his concealer game was fighting for its life, but nothing could hide the way he was walking—awkward. Guilty. Stiff.

And Yeonjun?

Yeonjun was thriving.

He leaned against the lockers like a delinquent model out of a drama—arms crossed, earrings glinting, smug expression dialed to maximum murder.
His eyes tracked Beomgyu like a laser.

"Hey," he called lazily, as Beomgyu tried to disappear behind a group of freshmen.
"Gyu."

Beomgyu froze. He did NOT just use the nickname.

Yeonjun tilted his head. "Neck still sore?"

Beomgyu combusted.

"Y-You—" he spun around, voice low. "Can you not?! People are literally breathing here—!"

Yeonjun pushed off the lockers, sauntering closer like he had all the time and none of the morals.
"I could help make it worse," he whispered near Beomgyu's ear. "I don't mind."

Beomgyu turned red from the soul.

"I will TELL Soobin."

Yeonjun smirked. "Will you?"

Beomgyu's voice cracked. "I—"
No.
No he wouldn't.

"Didn't think so."
Yeonjun stepped back, triumphant.

Then—just to be evil—he blew a tiny kiss over his shoulder and vanished into the hallway crowd.

Beomgyu had to sit in the janitor's closet for five minutes just to breathe again.

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