Between the lines /SOOGYU/

The Boiling Point

The week had been loud.

Not in the usual, friendly way — not the clatter of trays at lunch or Hueningkai’s ridiculous impressions or Yeonjun’s booming laugh echoing across the courtyard.

No.

It was the wrong kind of loud.

Whispers. Clicks. Notifications buzzing on Soobin’s phone like angry wasps. Eyes on him in every hallway, side comments flung like knives when they thought he couldn’t hear.

Because someone had dug up the old video. The kiss. Eunjae's fingers pulling him close. The look of shock on his face, frozen in time. And now it was going viral again.

But worse?

The new rumors said Soobin had led her on.

That he had broken her heart.

That Beomgyu had been caught in the crossfire of his little “fling.”

Soobin was trying to ignore it.

Trying.

---

Rooftop – Friday Evening

Soobin leaned against the railing, can of peach soda sweating in his grip.

Taehyun sat cross-legged beside him, scrolling his phone. Yeonjun was pacing with a bag of chips, and Hueningkai had a towel over his face, groaning dramatically.

But Soobin couldn’t even fake it tonight.

“Hey,” Taehyun said gently. “Don’t spiral.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re thinking about him again,” Hueningkai mumbled from under the towel.

“No, I’m not.”

Yeonjun raised a brow. “Lying doesn’t look good on you, Soob.”

He groaned, rubbing his temple. “I just… I thought we were okay after the project. At least neutral. I didn’t think he’d hate me this much.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Taehyun said, voice calm but firm. “If he did, he wouldn’t keep looking at you like he’s waiting for you to say something.”

Soobin’s heart thudded. “He hasn’t looked at me in days.”

“Exactly.”

---

Later: Practice Hall Corridor

The rooftop wasn’t safe anymore.

Neither was the studio.

Soobin had started hiding out in the empty corridors behind the music wing after classes — small spaces where the only sound was the echo of his own footsteps.

Which made the sudden click of a door behind him jarring.

He turned.

Beomgyu stood at the end of the hall, hair damp from the rain, hoodie unzipped just enough to show his favorite band tee underneath.

They locked eyes.

Neither moved.

Neither spoke.

Then Beomgyu started walking — slow, deliberate steps, like a storm inching closer.

Soobin’s breath caught.

“You avoiding me now?” Gyu asked, voice low and dangerous.

“You’ve been avoiding me since the project,” Soobin snapped, stepping forward. “So don’t start now.”

“You deserved it.”

“Oh, did I?”

“Yes,” Gyu bit out. “Because you let her kiss you again. In front of everyone. And then acted like you were the one who got hurt.”

Soobin’s jaw tightened. “I was hurt.”

“Not like I was.”

Silence.

The walls around them felt thinner. The hallway pulsed with something thick and electric.

“She kissed me,” Soobin said. “I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t want it. And I told her to back off.”

“Not fast enough,” Gyu said.

“I didn’t owe you anything!” Soobin burst. “We weren’t— we aren’t anything!”

Beomgyu flinched.

Soobin froze, regret slicing through him instantly.

“That’s what you think?” Gyu asked quietly. “That we were nothing?”

Soobin’s voice broke. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Gyu laughed — sharp and joyless. “Too late.”

He turned and walked away without another word.