ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒 𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕪 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕝𝕕, Beomjun

022

After coming back from the camping trip, Yeonjun dedicates the next few days focusing on his assignment. He returns feeling inspired and visits one of the college's local cafés on his off day, ordering an iced americano before taking a seat by the window.

The day is bright and calm with few people around so early in the day, the peace of early hours accompanying him. Yeonjun places his bag on the seat next to him, rifling through it and pulling out his laptop, notebook, and pen. The espresso machine is a constant whir in the background, blending with the quiet chatter of customers, and the noise is surprisingly helpful to his stimulation-seeking brain.

His leans in his chair as he opens up his laptop and waits for it to load. The gentle streams of sun feel warm against his back, providing the perfect conditions for his need to focus.

Ideas pour out of him like a water fountain, crafting draft after draft. He knows its best he completes a piece and improves upon it from there, but finds that spilling his different ideas out when they occur and comparing the literature works best for his chaotic brain. It helps him pick out his favourite descriptions and lines, ending with a final work that'll fill him with pride.

However, a downside of working on his assessment last-minute (due to his past inertia) is that he hasn't seen much of Beomgyu or been able to teach him the last of the colours. They've exchanged the occasional text or rushed conversation, but nothing more. And Beomgyu's been busy too, he's heading to Daegyu for his birthday, celebrating it with friends and family back home, which means he's been preparing for that recently.

Yeonjun wishes he could've joined him. It was just their luck his written exam fell on the same date, keeping him stuck in Seoul. Though, he's set on making up for missing his best friend's birthday. He's already planned something for when Beomgyu returns, a quiet night in to balance out the hectic week he's sure the younger will have while away.

He remembers his first time visiting Beomgyu after they'd met on a trip and begged their parents to let them stay in touch. Beomgyu took him to their local park and introduced him to his friends. They are exactly like him, boisterous and chaotic, like a pack of wolves toppling each other as they fight over a single toy. They seemed to circle around Beomgyu, his laughter and bright smiles drawing people in. The boy everyone wanted to befriend, charming and energetic.

His family are much more sophisticated, expecting Beomgyu to act the same, to set an example like his older brother. However, they never stick their noses up at Beomgyu's less-fortunate friends. In fact, they're generous people ready to offer a helping hand and reassuring smile. They're who Beomgyu gets that side off—especially his mother. Beomgyu has been described as a daughter-like son. It's accurate, Beomgyu has the maternal instincts in a sense, nursing his sick friends to health or a shoulder to cry on. Vulnerability isn't a thing with Choi Beomgyu, because Yeonjun thinks being vulnerable means being scared, and he's never been scared to show Beomgyu his deepest, ugliest feelings.

(Except for one.)

Yeonjun thinks of Beomgyu as he writes his assessment. He remembers the different colours they've gone through, and the moments frozen in time together. How his best friend had doted on his every word, round eyes so trusting that it was Yeonjun who could explain colour to him in a way he could almost see. Yeonjun had taken his trust so seriously, had cupped it in gentle yet nervous hands, careful not to lose a single drop. It was precious to him like the sweetest nectar and he wanted to do Beomgyu proud, desperate to live up to the standards expected.

How could he not? Beomgyu was so sweet and patient.

It sparks his writing, leading him to pages of adoration hidden behind simple words and a different story. A way to loose his feelings without having them heard.