Next Door |•YEONGYU/BEOMJUN•|

~11~

"Yo Beomie, wanna hang out with the gang? Oh wait, you'll say no again." The guy chuckled and turned to face his friends.

Beomgyu would normally not go. He didn't like drinking and clubbing like the rest of the guys. But he really needed a distraction at that moment. Besides, he was also over 18. His father would think he had finally grown up.

With a pang of hesitation, he asked, "Wait." The other boys looked at him with a smirk. "I want to go," He said firmly.

The other boys made an "ohh" sound.

"Now we're talking."

"Damn, pretty boy. Were you pent up?" The guys were surprised but delighted at Beomgyu's alcohol tolerance.

He downed another shot like it was water, burning its way down his throat, and scrunched up his face.

"Maybe. Don't tell me you thought it's my first time," He laughed and stared up at the ceiling, a big smile on his face. "I'm offended."

"Then you might want to try something stronger," Taeil slurred with an evil smirk plastered on his face.

"What is it?"

"You have to test it out." He replied.

Beomgyu gave a low laugh. "I like a good challenge. Give me."

The instant the cup brushed Beomgyu’s fingertips, it was ripped away—Yeonjun’s hand gripping his wrist like steel.
“Are you insane?” His voice thundered, each word cutting through the music. “Trying to drug your own classmate?”

The room froze, but only for a heartbeat. Then Yeonjun’s fist connected with Taeil’s jaw in a brutal crack, sending him stumbling back with a groan. The others surged forward instinctively, but not against Yeonjun—never against him. They knew better. Instead, they caught hold of Taeil, restraining him as he spat curses through his split lip.

“Do you know who I am?” Yeonjun’s voice was raw, furious, echoing louder than the bass that rattled the walls. “Get out!”

The words snapped like a whip. They scrambled, dragging a groaning Taeil with them, their footsteps stumbling over each other as they disappeared through the door.

Silence pressed down in their wake.

Beomgyu blinked, dazed, the alcohol blurring his thoughts but not enough to miss the figure that loomed over him. Yeonjun stepped closer, his shadow swallowing the couch, his chest heaving, jaw tight.

The neon lights flickered and bled into Beomgyu’s vision, distorting everything except him. Still, he held Yeonjun’s gaze—dizzy, confused, yet unable to look away.

“Why are you here?” Yeonjun asked, trying hard to keep his voice even. He didn’t want his frustration to slip through, not when Beomgyu looked so shaken.

Beomgyu lowered his eyes, his words quiet and sincere.
“I’m sorry.”

Yeonjun’s expression softened at once. The sharpness in his chest gave way to worry.
“What happened, Beomgyu? You didn’t even wait for me this morning.”

He sat down beside him, the background noise fading into something distant and unimportant.

Beomgyu drew in a shaky breath, trying to keep himself steady, but his tears betrayed him, slipping down despite his effort.

“Beomgyu…” Yeonjun’s voice was gentle now, warm enough to contrast the unease in his thoughts.

The younger leaned against his shoulder, letting his silence speak for him. His weight felt both fragile and heavy, as if he had finally given up on holding everything in.

Yeonjun brushed the dampness from his cheek with the back of his hand, his touch careful, and let his fingers move through Beomgyu’s hair in a soothing rhythm. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to let him know he wasn’t alone.