Goodbye My Delusion | TXT Beomgyu

9

My first week with Beomgyu is a dream.

Every day is a repeat of my first full day at the university. We take our first class together in Korean pop culture, learning about the start of the Korean Wave and its effect on oversea countries. Then, we separate—he heads to his international business class, and I struggle through learning beginner Korean, stumbling over my pronunciation and memory of simple vocabulary.

We meet up directly afterwards, and we head to the metro station to travel to one of many of Beomgyu's favorite destinations. On Wednesday, it's an all-you-can-eat barbecue place off the coast of the Han River. I eat until I have to unbutton my pants, and he makes fun of me for doing so the whole way back to the dorms. On Thursday, we go to a burger restaurant on top of the Namsan Seoul Tower. He shares his fries with me, and I've never felt more special when he gives me more than half his share. On Friday, we head to a cafe near his company building in Gangnam, and I obsess over fancy coffee drinks with sea foam and honey walls.

"Tomorrow is our first program field trip," Beomgyu says. He sips his red velvet iced latte, looking breathtaking in a black cardigan and skinny jeans. "Are you excited?"

I can't keep my eyes off him. I realize that I only have three more weeks to admire him, so making every moment count will be one of my better decisions. "I'm very excited."

"We're heading to Boryeong," Beomgyu says. "There's a huge mud festival there. We'll have so much fun."

I sip my latte, which cost over eight dollars with all the fanciful ingredients added to it—cinnamon and honey and saffron. "Have you ever been?" I ask.

Beomgyu shakes his head. "No. That's why this trip will be so exciting for us. None of the members have been either."

"Ah." I think about the other members in TXT. I saw glimpses of them throughout the whole week, but overall I've been spending most of my time alone with Beomgyu. He must get the sense that I'm most comfortable around him, and it sends waves of warmth into my chest knowing that he understands that part of me.

"Are you ready to head back?" he asks, sipping away the last of his drink.

I tip back my cup, savoring the last bit of sweetness, spice, and bitterness. "Yeah. Let's head back."

On the way back home, Beomgyu walks close to me and matches his pace to mine. Multiple times, his black cardigan brushes against the skin of my arm. It takes all of my willpower not to totally melt on the street or the subway. I wonder if he knows that he has an enchanting effect on me. He has to know how handsome he is, at least.

Besides the week I've spent with him, I've seen Beomgyu at his highest point in the spotlight. He's always portrayed as the most energetic member of TXT, and the focus of the camera are his loud jokes and boisterous air about him. He certainly shows that part of him a lot, especially around the other members.

But with me, he's oftentimes quiet. As we walk back and take the metro back to line one and head to the direction of our university, he keeps to himself and hums a song that I can only guess is a traditional Korean ballad. Every few minutes or so, he catches my gaze and offers a tiny smile—like a signal that he's still here with me, on this earth instead of the heavens of his imagination.

I love this part of him—the quiet and introspective version that isn't shown on screen. Even in the dorms, he often gets lost in the material of his textbook. His face scrunches up in concentration as he listens to his music and studies. He must not realize how handsome he looks when he's just sitting there and ruminating.

"What are you thinking about?" Beomgyu asks, as we exit into the Hankuk University of Foreign Studies station.

I almost do a double take, just shocked at hearing his voice after such a long period of silence. "What?"

He laughs to himself. "Whenever you get quiet, you get this kind of blank look on your face. Then I have no idea what you're thinking about."

I don't have the courage to say that I was dwelling on him—the feeling of his cardigan against my arm, the adoration I have for his quiet and moments of concentration. "I was thinking about the field trip," I lie.

He squeezes his face in mock offense. "You're lying to me."

"Fine," I say. "I was thinking about how I like it when you're quiet."

"When I'm quiet?" he says. We turn into our dormitory, and Beomgyu greets the security guard in polite Korean. "What do you mean?"

"Well," I say. "The media always portrays idols as loud and extraverted. It's nice to see that you're not that way all the time."

"Of course not," he says. "I'm not a real-life battery. Although I do play that role in the team sometimes." He hums. "I really like that I'm able to be quiet with you."

I process his words as we head up the elevator, turning into our hall on the seventh floor. "I'm not too boring?"

"No way," he says. "I like quiet people. Living with the members can be hectic at times, but I like how I can just relax when I'm around you. Like I don't have to try so hard."

A red blush forms on my cheeks. "Oh. I'm glad you like me in that sense."

"I like a lot of things about you." Beomgyu smiles as he holds the door for me, and we enter into our dorm room together. I've never noticed this before, but it seems that we're getting more into the groove of living together. He holds the door, I turn on the lights. When he sets the air conditioning on, I check the room for bugs—the little beasts that Beomgyu is so afraid of.

We do a little studying after taking our turns in the shower, but for the most part we are on our beds, scrolling through our phones.

"Do you Google yourself sometimes?" I ask.

"To be honest," he says, "all the time. I'm pretty self conscious. That's one thing about me that I'm working on."

"I'm guessing you've seen your fair share of online hate," I say. "I'm sorry about the netizens who are so mean at times."

He shifts on his bed, rolling over to face me. He sets his phone behind him, on a shelf that runs parallel to the bed. "Don't worry about that. I can hold my own. The company trains us not to give too much worry to online hate."

"But it still affects you," I say. "Doesn't it?"

"Of course," he says. "But the fans are my healing potion. And people like you—knowing that we have supporters all across the world. TXT won't fall apart just because of a few haters."

"You're a pretty strong person," I say.

Beomgyu pouts. "Don't get sappy on me. Well, you're a really strong person too. Look at you, lasting a whole week without your first love. I'd say that's a big accomplishment."

"Thank you," I say.

Beomgyu closes his eyes. For a long time, I guess that he's fallen asleep. I'm just about to get up to hit the lights when he speaks again. His voice is soft, tickling my ears. "Do you still miss him, Jayden?"

I consider lying, saying that I'm healed already. But it's only been a week, and I still have his marks all over me. "Honestly, I still think of him a lot. I checked his Snapchat like, four times today."

"Well," he says. "We have three more weeks. Let's make the most of it, yeah?"

"Yeah." This time, I watch him close enough to realize that he has indeed fallen asleep. His eyelashes flutter, and his mouth parts slightly. He gives off a few light snores, and he calls for Yeonjun in his sleep.

I almost want to keep the lights on to admire him.

Instead, I let the tiredness of the day wrap me in its embrace. I fall asleep with Beomgyu still calling out for someone. One of the members? I think I hear my name, but I'm not very sure. I highly doubt that I'm the subject of his dreams. And even if I am, I have a hard time believing he'll remember me past the three weeks we'll be together.