''~°.HIDE AND SEEK.°~'' | YEONGYU

THE MEMORY

Beomgyu stayed close. Practically glued to Yeonjun's side, like the space between them would swallow him whole if he dared let it grow.

The night dragged on...quiet, restless, heavy.

Neither of them slept. Not really. The lamp cast a soft golden glow across the room, and the air felt too still. Too waiting.

Yeonjun sat with his back against the headboard, legs stretched out, one arm slung around Beomgyu without thinking. His fingers absently traced shapes over Beomgyu's sleeve as his mind worked through all the questions he didn't want to ask but had to.

"You ever seen that figure before? Like before it decided to show up at your window?" Yeonjun asked, voice low, careful.

Beomgyu didn't respond right away but after a moment, shook his head.

Yeonjun turned his head slightly. "Not even once? Not in passing?"

"No...I haven't" Beomgyu whispered.

Silence.

Yeonjun stared ahead for a long moment, jaw tightening. Then he let out a quiet sigh and leaned his head back, eyes drifting to the ceiling.

Beomgyu's hand curled against the blanket.

Yeonjun glanced at him again, but his expression softened. The silence had shifted...not evasive, just distant. Fragile.

"...Remember the summer you got that huge treehouse in your backyard?" Yeonjun asked, changing course without warning.

Beomgyu blinked. Slowly nodded. "Yeah...The one no one was allowed to climb except me."

Yeonjun huffed a quiet laugh. "You pushed me off the ladder."

"You tried to climb it when I wasn't looking," Beomgyu said, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. "I warned you."

They fell into a soft pause.

Then Beomgyu added, "She helped build it, you know."

Yeonjun tilted his head. "She?"

Beomgyu's voice turned light. Almost distant. "The maid. Or, well... she wasn't just that. She was more like..." He trailed off, then smiled faintly. "An angel."

Yeonjun furrowed his brow. "You mean the one with the braids? I think I met her once when we were little. She gave me juice and asked me if I liked the books in your room."

Beomgyu's eyes flickered, remembering. "Yeah. That was her."

"She seemed really sweet."

"She was," Beomgyu murmured, gaze fixed on a spot across the room. "She always smiled, even when no one else did. She smelled like lemon and lavender. Hummed lullabies when she thought I was asleep."

Yeonjun watched him carefully. There was something about the way Beomgyu spoke...soft, reverent, like he was clutching something long lost but precious.

"She made that house feel like home...even when it wasn't."

Yeonjun didn't say anything at first but that last part caught him off guard. But before he could ask, Beomgyu leaned closer, as if to avoid any questions that might follow.

So Yeonjun didn't press.

Instead, he let the moment stretch. Just two boys in a house that had grown too dark, too fast, clinging to memories that felt safer than reality.

The silence stretched for a few minutes,mnot heavy this time, just still. Like the room itself was holding its breath with them. Beomgyu's fingers idly curled into the blanket, his shoulder brushing Yeonjun's.

Yeonjun broke the silence with a soft, almost wistful voice.

"Hey...do you remember the summer we tried to make popsicles at my place?"

Beomgyu blinked, then let out a tiny breath of laughter. "With the orange juice and gummy bears?"

Yeonjun smiled at the ceiling. "You stuffed, like, ten gummies in one mold and called it 'maximum flavor.'"

"They all sank to the bottom," Beomgyu mumbled with a crooked grin. "It was just cold orange water with a gummy bear graveyard."

"You still made me eat two of them."

Beomgyu gave a small shrug. "You didn't complain."

"I didn't wanna hurt your feelings," Yeonjun said, nudging him lightly with his elbow. "You looked so proud."

A smile bloomed on Beomgyu's face, quiet and real. "I was."

"You also mixed orange juice with chocolate milk that day."

Beomgyu groaned and covered his face with his hand. "Please don't remind me."

"I had to drink that too."

Beomgyu peeked at him through his fingers, laughing now. "You're a terrible liar. You said it was 'surprisingly complex.' "

"I was trying to be supportive," Yeonjun laughed. "You were so serious about it. Like a little scientist in my kitchen."

Beomgyu's laugh faded into something softer, more tender. "I liked being at your place...It felt like I could breathe there."

Yeonjun turned to look at him, but didn't say anything. The weight in Beomgyu's voice said enough...and for now, all he wanted was to keep giving him that feeling. Safe. Light. Normal.

So instead, Yeonjun said, "We should try making popsicles again sometime."

Beomgyu's smile returned, gentler this time. "Only if you eat it first again."

Yeonjun smirked. "Deal."

The quiet between them settled like a blanket. For the first time that night, Beomgyu's breathing evened out, his weight leaning more comfortably into Yeonjun's side. The golden glow from the lamp painted everything in softer edges, as though the walls themselves had been tamed for a while.

Yeonjun let himself relax into it too, even if his mind kept tugging at questions he wasn't ready to voice. The figure. The strange way Beomgyu described the maid. The pieces didn't fit, but for once, he wasn't trying to solve them. Not when Beomgyu was finally smiling.

But just as the silence started to feel safe, the air shifted. A sound, too faint, too deliberate...slipped in from outside.

Beomgyu stiffened instantly, the warmth draining from his expression. His hand curled against Yeonjun's sleeve. "Did you hear that?"

Yeonjun didn't answer right away, but his eyes had already flicked toward the window. The curtains were drawn tight, yet the shadows behind them seemed thicker than they had a moment ago.

The house had gone quiet again.