Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The wedding venue shimmered beneath the golden sunlight… a vast, dreamlike garden that seemed to have turned its back on the glitzy, noisy city outside. The green lawns stretched like velvet carpets across the earth, dotted with white roses and delicate, twinkling lights strung between the branches of ancient oak trees. The air was saturated with the scent of jasmine and freshly cut grass, mingling with the laughter of guests and the soft clink of champagne glasses.

At the heart of the garden stood a grand ivory tent, its roof adorned with trailing vines and blooms, diffusing the light in a way that cast a magical, surreal glow over the entire scene.

But for Yeonjun, everything was too bright, too loud… a sudden assault on the senses that threatened to awaken his migraine. The hum of the crowd, the sharp ring of clinking glasses, the sun’s glare refracting off crystal centerpieces… it was all too much. He missed the dim hush of his apartment, the comforting shadows. A flicker of Soobin and Kai crossed his mind… how they too had always breathed easier in the darker corners of the world, in the spaces that refused entry to the glaring light of reality. There, they could hide, something Yeonjun had longed to do more times than he could count.

He adjusted the deep crimson silk scarf draped around his neck… a stark contrast to the open-collared white shirt that revealed a glimpse of his pale, flawless chest. The shirt was fitted just enough to suggest strength, yet loose enough to act as armor against prying eyes. His black tailored pants were sharp, his polished shoes catching the sunlight as he moved. He had chosen this outfit carefully, not too formal, not too relaxed. Just enough for someone like Yeonjun. But now, standing on the grass, he felt the walls he had spent years building begin to fall apart. The light had a way of exposing everything.

Three days ago, Jay’s call had hit him like a jolt… an unexpected wave of joy in an otherwise ordinary week.

“Yeonjun hyung, it’s finally happening!!” Jay’s voice had crackled through the phone, alive with a kind of excitement Yeonjun had barely heard from him before.

“Hana’s pregnant. We’ve decided to officially become a family… me, her, and our baby. Can you believe it?”

Yeonjun had smiled, warmth blooming in his chest as he congratulated him… picturing Jay’s broad grin and the light in his eyes that always wrapped around his words.

It was a strange kind of happiness, rare and bittersweet. And still, Yeonjun couldn’t stop the small pang of envy that tugged at him. Jay had always been so grounded, always knew exactly what he wanted and fought to have it. Unlike Yeonjun… who had spent years running from himself, from his own desires.

Across the crowd, a few familiar faces caught his eye. Seokjin, Jay’s colleague, stood near a table of dainty desserts… immaculately dressed in a black suit, with that respectful, beautiful smile. Next to him was Namjoon, their charismatic boss… with honey-brown hair styled neatly for the occasion. The asymmetrical cut of his blazer still managed to exude a sharp, commanding edge.

Yeonjun nodded to them, ashort but warm greeting, laced with the weight of old memories. They returned his gesture with subtle nods of their own. His heart was hammering, because he knew who else might be there… who was supposed to be there.

It had been over three weeks since the club night, since the music had wrapped itself around his bones, since Soobin’s sharp words and Kai’s defiant gaze had unraveled him from within. Ten days since he’d made the decision to stay… to stop running.

He hadn’t counted the days, but the distance still sat in his mind like a bruise. After seeing them again, feeling their warmth once more, returning to the monotony of his life hadn’t been easy. Those weeks had been consumed by endless contracts, late-night calls, demanding clients who always expected more than he could give. Like he was capable of miracles… There was no space for nostalgia, no time for old loves.

But Jay had told him, hadn’t he?

“I invited them too, hyung… they might be there.”

And Yeonjun knew exactly who they were. That’s why his breath had hitched with anticipation.

Maybe it was selfish of him… clinging to mutual friends just to keep a fragile thread connected to Soobin and Kai. Maybe he’d always hoped that through them, he might see them again - just once - even if he never found the courage to reach out himself.

But now he was here. His pulse throbbed in his throat. And the promise he had made to himself “ Stay. ” echoed relentlessly in his mind.

And then he saw them both.

Two tall silhouettes, beautiful ghosts from a past Yeonjun had tried so hard to leave behind.

Soobin and Kai… gleaming amidst the crowd. Their presence was gravity, bending the world around them with its weight.

Yeonjun couldn’t tell if fate hated him… or if it was trying, in some cruel way, to repay him for the wounds he’d suffered.

Their clothes weren’t as extravagant as when they’d been on stage, but there was a quiet rebellion in their style… a shadow laced through their elegance.

Soobin wore a sleek black blazer over a charcoal open-collared shirt, a silver chain with a large cross resting boldly on his chest. His dark fitted trousers and slightly scuffed boots added a rugged edge, while his slicked-back hair, with a few rebellious strands falling over his face, framed him like a painting. Everything about him demanded attention.

Kai, beside him, wore a deep emerald jacket like some prince risen from darkness. His black open shirt and silver earring gave him a feral look… like a predator pretending to be tame.

Kai saw him first. He always did. His head turned, slowly, as if by chance - but his eyes locked with Yeonjun’s and didn’t let go. Surprise flickered across his face - pure and real… before the practiced calm returned. He leaned in, whispering something to Soobin, and Yeonjun knew his name had just been spoken aloud.

Soobin looked up. His gaze swept the crowd until it landed on Yeonjun. His expression remained unreadable, but his eyes… lingered. Long. Searching… and behind them, something stirred that Yeonjun couldn’t name.

The weight in Yeonjun’s chest tightened. But he had to move. He had to walk forward… every step a battle against the pull of their gaze.

Kai’s voice echoed again.. “Then stay.”

He clung to that whisper… and to the pleading look buried beneath layers of pride.

He didn’t want to turn around and leave. He didn’t want to turn around and slam the door so hard behind him it tore the seams of whatever thread still connected them.

His feet moved of their own accord, drawn toward that familiar gravity. The wind caught his scarf, and his exposed chest felt too vulnerable beneath their eyes.

Soobin’s gaze slid down his body… slow, deliberate… like he was committing the image to memory. A flicker passed through his eyes… hunger, perhaps. Or fury… Or something else entirely.

He didn’t look at Yeonjun like a man glimpsing a fond memory… he looked at him like a predator seeing his prey finally walk back into the den.

Kai’s gaze, by contrast, was warmer. Soft… but no less dangerous. Like fire inviting you closer just to burn you from within.

“You came,” Soobin murmurd… more to himself than to Kai or Yeonjun.

“Yeonjun…” Kai said his name aloud this time, soft as velvet, a smile blooming on his lips. “We were looking for you.”

He took a sip of champagne, and Yeonjun felt warmth crawl up his neck and ears. His calm exterior wavered beneath Kai’s gaze, but he kept control… a serenity honed through years of surviving.

“I’m glad to see you both here,” Yeonjun said evenly, his voice only barely betraying his racing heart. His eyes met theirs. “You look… dangerous.”

“Flattery,” Kai replied gently, “doesn’t suit you.”

“But it suits you ,” Yeonjun answered without pause.

Kai’s lips twitched.. a half-smile forming. Soobin snorted and sipped his drink, his eyes never leaving Yeonjun.

“You look good in those suits…” Yeonjun offered, trying to ease the tension. “It’s a strange contrast to how you looked on stage.”

Soobin’s lips curled in a mocking grin. “Even wolves can wear human skin for a day.” His tone carried the usual bite, but his eyes… those eyes burned with a fire Yeonjun didn’t understand.

He leaned back slightly, one hand sliding into his pocket. The other grazed Kai’s arm… subtle, intimate… but meant to destabilize Yeonjun. It worked. Yeonjun had always wondered.. why did Soobin do that? A dark thought sometimes crossed his mind… Maybe Soobin had always known . About his feelings. His hunger. Everything Yeonjun had buried beneath a mask of friendship.

Soobin’s gaze didn’t waver - piercing, unrelenting. That same look he gave Kai - burning through frozen walls. A look Yeonjun had once been part of. Soobin was a puzzle. One Yeonjun would never solve unless the man himself chose to speak.

Kai rolled his eyes with exaggerated annoyance. “Ignore him, Yeonjun…” he said softly, clearly used to Soobin’s sharp tongue. “He’s just itching for a fight.”

Yeonjun exhaled… heavier than he expected. “It’s fine… Soobin’s always been good at holding grudges.”

“And you’ve always been good at leaving.”

The words hung in the air like a blade. Soobin’s tone was cutting, but his fingers fidgeted at his sleeve… just for a moment. Vulnerability, fleeting.

Kai leaned forward slightly, a warmth radiating from him. “You look beautiful… as always.”

Yeonjun turned to meet his gaze. His words were gentle.. tender enough to undo him. It always felt like Kai knew . Knew something Yeonjun didn’t.

“Thank you,” Yeonjun said, reflecting Kai’s smile. “You do too.”

Soobin rolled his eyes. “God, you two are disgusting.”

Kai arched a brow. “You were just about to call him a sin wrapped in silk.”

“I was not.”

“But you thought it.”

“Please shut up, baby.”

Soobin raked a hand through his hair, exasperated. Kai laughed - free and bright - and Yeonjun couldn’t tell what emotion the tension between them stirred in him.

Kai turned back quickly. “Yeonjun… how have you been? You look… tired.”

“It’s been a hectic week,” Yeonjun replied, the weight in his voice something he knew Kai would understand. “Busy days. Late nights. You know how it is. But I made it through.”

“Hectic, huh? I bet you’ve been chasing old ghosts,” Soobin cut in, his words sharp… laced with a question he couldn’t ask aloud.

Yeonjun met his eyes, unwavering. “If you mean throwing tantrums to prove a point… then no. Not really my style.”

The words weren’t sharp, but they were enough to make Soobin’s smirk falter.

Kai laughed, amused. “You two never change. Always dancing around each other… never saying what you really mean.”

Then he exhaled, his fingers brushing Yeonjun’s hand… a touch fleeting but grounding. “All that aside… we’re happy to see you, Yeonjun. Truly.”

Soobin shifted slightly on his feet, his hand once again tracing a soft, habitual stroke along Kai’s arm.

“You shouldn’t get used to this…” he murmured, his voice quiet.. contradicting the fleeting vulnerability in his gaze. His words were meant for Kai.

Yeonjun had to summon every ounce of control not to wrap his arms around himself, to not vanish into his own shadow.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, the words floating between them… more a promise to himself than to Soobin or Kai.

And then, barely audible above the murmurs of the crowd, Kai whispered. “I hope not.”

The sharp noise of voices around them had softened into a murmur, strange and distant. Before Yeonjun could say anything more, a soft chime rang through the garden, signaling the beginning of the ceremony. The crowd began to shift, guests moving toward the neatly arranged rows of white chairs, all eager, excited, their faces lit up with anticipation for the bride and groom.

“The ceremony’s starting…” Yeonjun said, voice calm and steady, though his heart thundered in his chest. He wanted to drown the world in silence, to stop time, to not have to move away from the two of them.

“I should go find a seat… “he added, hesitating as he took a small step back, ready to disappear into the moving crowd—

But a hand caught his wrist. Firm. Certain. And maybe… laced with a quiet fear of letting go… buried under the indifferent mask of the man who held him.

It was Soobin.

His hand wasn’t tender, nor harsh enough to draw attention, but it carried a controlled strength that sparked through Yeonjun like electricity. Soobin’s face was unreadable… stoic, brows relaxed, lips pressed into a straight line. But his gaze… was heavy. One of those looks that didn’t allow disobedience.

Soobin pulled Yeonjun toward an empty chair, directly beside Kai. His movements were precise, assured… possessive, almost.

A crease formed between Kai’s brows—concerned, disapproving.

“Soobin, go easy?” he murmured, eyes darting between them, like he was afraid Yeonjun might vanish again if he looked away even for a second.

“When there’s an empty seat right here,” Soobin said, ignoring Kai, voice cold and more command than offer, “why go looking for another?”

And then… he paused. Just for a moment. But his gaze remained brutal, a storm frozen in ice “Stop trying to hide, Yeonjun. Just… sit.”

The words pressed into Yeonjun’s chest, heavy with meaning, laced with threat, threaded with the unmistakable tinge of possession.

Yeonjun exhaled the breath he’d been holding, quietly. Arguing with Soobin never yielded anything worthwhile. The man across from him - the rockstar - had no interest in rebellion or resistance.

And truth be told, Yeonjun didn’t want to be somewhere else. If the two of them - these former lovers, present enigmas - wanted him to sit with them, he had no reason to flee. He curled his fingers around Soobin’s wrist in return, attempting to pry himself free. But the pressure of those long, ring-laden fingers only tightened, biting gently into his skin. Soobin raised a brow at him.

“I’ll sit, okay?” Yeonjun said, his voice tinged with frustration. “You’re hurting me.”

Soobin held on for a beat longer before releasing him, fingers trailing over Yeonjun’s skin as they let go… a touch that felt both intentional and accidental. That duality made it more unsettling. He enjoyed flexing his control, and Yeonjun hated how much he felt it… how deeply a part of him responded.

Not because Soobin or Kai were cruel… but because they awakened something raw and feral in Yeonjun, something he didn’t fully understand… and that frightened him.

As he Kaik into the chair, Yeonjun’s fingers instinctively brushed the lingering heat on his wrist, the imprint of Soobin’s grasp.

He was a fool for missing the fire he knew would burn him to ash from the inside out.

He leaned against the cool, wooden back of the chair. His scarf shifted slightly, baring more of his luminous chest to the open air. The atmosphere between them crackled—Kai’s quiet warmth just beside him, tempting and deceptive… and Soobin, one seat away, a silent storm poised to shatter at any moment.

The ceremony began.

Jay and Hana entered from one of the back doors, met by waves of cheers and delighted applause. Hana’s arm was looped through Jay’s, who looked around with a soft smile—and then turned that gaze on his bride, where it melted into something gentler still, as if she were a dream he’d been allowed to touch.

Yeonjun was caught between sound and silence. For once, he wasn’t a lawyer with his guard up, performing charm and composure.

He was just… there.

The officiant’s steady voice rose in the air as Jay and Hana moved forward… radiant, in love, tethered to one another.

Yeonjun’s eyes lingered on them, but he couldn’t escape the awareness that Kai and Soobin were only inches away.

From the corner of his eye, he saw it: Soobin’s hand slid slowly under the table, settling on Kai’s thigh. The movement was slow, deliberate - first a caress, then a grip - firm, possessive, filled with intent. Kai didn’t flinch. His expression remained perfectly composed. But his fingers moved, barely brushing over Soobin’s hand—a silent acknowledgement, tender and deep.

Yeonjun’s chest tightened. Emotions surged, ones he couldn’t afford to let show. Jealousy. Desire. Longing. He didn’t know if he wanted to be the one touching Kai with the same calm dominance Soobin held, and be met with that silent plea for more… Or if he wanted to be touched by Soobin… consumed by the heat of it until he shattered into pieces that never quite fit back together.

Kai leaned back slightly, his smile soft as velvet. wrapping a thouKaid secrets inside it.

“Jay looks radiant up there..” he murmured, voice low and laced with friendly mischief. “Bet he’s got a handful of terrible dad jokes waiting to be unleashed.”

He glanced at Yeonjun… a quick flick of the eye, but it landed like silk, tying him to the moment.

Soobin let out a quiet snort, his hand still resting firmly on Kai’s leg, fingers drawing slow, lazy circles over the fabric of his pants. A subtle, unspoken ease. “Dad jokes? More like he’s trying not to trip over his vows. Bastard’s so in love, I doubt he can even think straight.”

Kai laughed out loud, the sound eventually settling into a soft smile. Under the colored lights of the garden, his eyes shimmered. “They make it look so easy, don’t they? Love. Commitment. Like it’s… normal.”

His gaze swung back to Yeonjun… he did that often, like watching him was a quiet thrill. There was always a challenge behind his dark eyes, like he was pushing Yeonjun closer and closer to a line… waiting to see if he’d cross it on his own.

“Maybe for them, it is that easy,” Yeonjun replied, not breaking eye contact. “Jay always knew what he wanted from life… Not everyone is that lucky.”

The corners of his lips trembled… a smile that masked the storm in his chest.

He remembered every moment they’d once shared, the ease of their teasing. How it always made him feel like he belonged in their world, like time hadn’t passed at all.

“He looks ready,” he added, eyes drifting back to Jay and Hana, hands locked tightly. “He’s found his place in the world.”

“It suits him,” Kai said, this time holding Yeonjun’s gaze directly. “Maybe it could suit you too, Yeonjun… if you let it.”

There was something behind those words… an invitation, sweet and warm.

“Jay’s about to become insufferably wholesome,” Soobin suddenly muttered, his voice curling with amusement. The sneer on his lips softened into something almost kind.

“Soon he’ll be picking baby names and building cribs in his sleep.”

“I can already hear the excitement in his laugh…” Kai added, voice quiet.

Yeonjun chuckled. “I bet the kid’s going to start calling us ‘uncle’ before they’re even born.”

“Uncle Yeonjun…” Kai repeated, testing the weight of it on his tongue. “Think you’re ready for that kind of responsibility? Teaching a kid how to tie a tie… or… I don’t know, how to win an argument without raising their voice?”

“I’ll leave the ties to you, Kai,” Yeonjun smirked. “I’ll teach them how to read a contract.”

“Seriously?”

“Hey, it’s what I’m good at. You and Soobin can show them how to command a stage.”

“Oh, we’re raising a tiny rockstar now.”

“A bunch of ridiculous nonsense,” Soobin muttered… but his sneer had turned into a gentle smile. “Just don’t bore the kid to death, alright?”

He took a deep breath and laced his fingers with Kai’s, gaze fixed forward, toward the ceremony.

The officiant’s voice rang clearly now, guiding Jay and Hana through their vows… each promise echoing in the air. Yeonjun saw the joy lighting Jay’s face… and Hana, radiant, her smile glowing as their lips met in a kiss, sealing the beginning of something impossibly beautiful.

Applause filled the hall… the sound wrapping around the glass walls like a gentle wave. Girls were tossing soft handfuls of pink and crimson petals at the newlyweds. Yeonjun clapped quietly, but his eyes were already drifting back to Kai and Soobin, drawn by a strange thudding feeling he was too afraid to name.

The bride and groom were making their rounds, shaking hands, receiving blessings and warm wishes… not just for themselves, but for the child softly stirring in Hana’s belly. Eventually, they reached the trio’s table. Jay’s grin was so wide, so bright, it felt contagious.

“You came,” he said, clapping Yeonjun’s shoulder with pride. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

Yeonjun placed his hand over Jay’s in return… warm, steady, brotherly. “I wouldn’t miss today, man… You’re practically glowing.”

Hana - radiant in her white gown that shimmered under the lights - leaned forward with a smile. “Yeonjun, right? Jay never stops talking about you… The lawyer who’s out to save the world?” Her voice was full of humor and charming excitement. Then her gaze swept to Kai and Soobin. “And you two… the rockstars in the flesh. Your music has been on repeat in my playlists forever. Seeing you in person feels unreal.”

Kai laughed in surprise. “Flattery gets you everywhere,” he said with a playful wink. “But today’s all about you two . You and Jay just stole the stage.”

Soobin leaned back in his chair, one brow raised… his gaze as sharp and contained as ever. “Congrats, man… You really did it. Didn’t think you’d beat us to the altar.”

Hana let out a soft giggle and gave Jay a playful nudge with her shoulder. “He’s still in shock,” she said, eyes crinkling with happiness. “Thank you for being here. It means a lot.”

Yeonjun offered a warm smile and gently shook her outstretched hand. “You don’t have to thank us.”

Jay gave a quick wave before he and Hana moved on to the next table. Their voices blended into the soft din of celebration, fading into the background of Yeonjun’s thoughts.

The reception was beginning its slow descent into evening. Laughter echoed gently through the glass hall, music whispered beneath the crystal chandeliers, and the mingled scents of alcohol and roses hung thick in the air. The wedding had shed its formal shell… it felt more like a friendly gathering now, like the loosened ties hanging casually around the guests’ necks.

Yeonjun couldn’t breathe. With a quiet grasp at his scarf, he stood. “I’m going to the bathroom,” he muttered… unsure if anyone even heard.

As he turned to leave, Kai waved lazily after him. “Don’t wander too far.”

He walked the corridor, his steps slow, toward the back exit. The garden beyond was bathed in soft, warm light. Shadows settled gently among the trees and flowers, lit by faint, lantern-like bulbs that cast a pale golden hue on the greenery. A single cricket Kaig somewhere deeper in the dark.

Yeonjun took a deep breath. Let the fresh, quiet air soothe his racing mind and settle the tremor in his chest.

He didn’t know why it had suddenly become hard to breathe in the hall… maybe because Soobin was too close, and his occasional stares sent tremors through Yeonjun’s spine… or maybe it was Kai’s casual attentiveness, the way he looked at him like he mattered . Or maybe - more truthfully - it was the way the two of them touched each other… wild, yet controlled… Electric.

Yeonjun didn’t want to be the bitter friend left behind. But he couldn’t stop the tightness in his chest either.

He leaned his head back, hands stuffed into the pockets of his trousers. His eyes fluttered shut, and the quiet wrapped around him. The stars above had blurred into faint specks of dull light. The night, and the garden, dim and mercifully empty, offered him a rare moment of peace… of distance from the chaos inside and the even louder noise in his own head.

Then… A voice broke the stillness. Familiar. Quiet. Inescapable.

“You said bathroom. Not staging an escape plan.”

Yeonjun froze. His eyelids shot open, and his spine straightened instinctively as he slowly turned… reluctantly, as if dragging the moment would delay its inevitability.

He knew that voice. Knew it better than anything.

Soobin was leaning against the low stone wall by the entrance. One booted foot crossed lazily over the other, arms folded across his chest. His jacket hung open, revealing the bare skin of his chest between the rebellious three unbuttoned notches of his shirt. His hair was tousled in that infuriating, deliberate mess he never apologized for. He liked that kind of disorder.

The shadows clung to his face - cheekbones, jawline, the soft curve of his mouth - but his eyes glinted like a predator’s in the dark, moonlight slicing across them like a blade.

Yeonjun swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “I needed fresh air.”

Soobin let out a sharp smirk… it was too knowing, too amused. “You always need fresh air when you’re running away.”

“I wasn’t runni—”

“—Running away, yes.” Soobin cut in, finishing the sentence like a challenge. He pushed off the wall with ease. “You were retreating. Elegantly. Quietly.”

His voice was soft, almost lazy… but his gaze? Surgical. A blade peeling back the armor Yeonjun had so carefully put on, carving little wounds that stung… that trailed down his jawline, his exposed collarbones.

He stepped closer. His presence filled the space between them like static electricity… tense, silent, dangerous.

Yeonjun flinched inwardly but held his ground. Folded his arms, a barrier between himself and Soobin. “You followed me out here?”

Soobin stepped closer. The oxygen thinned with every pace. “And what if I did?”

The silence stretched between them, taut like a wire ready to snap. Soobin’s words, the slight lift of his brows… they were provocations, waiting for Yeonjun to break.

They stood across from each other, moonlight casting a narrow divide. Soobin was unbearable in his intensity… like a storm contained inside a man. His presence pulled at Yeonjun even as it pushed him away.

“You don’t have to keep doing this…” Yeonjun said, his voice a whisper nearly lost in the wind.

“Doing what, exactly?”

“Trying to get under my skin.”

Soobin tilted his head. A slow smile curved on his lips, warm but far from kind. “Who said I’m trying ?” His voice lowered, dangerously soft. “Maybe you’re just… too easy to split open.”

Yeonjun’s expression darkened. “Can’t we just get along?”

“Can’t you stop vanishing every time things get hard and talk ?”

“I want to talk. Just not when you act like this.”

Soobin’s brows furrowed. “Like what, Yeonjun? Like someone who gets straight to the point? Like someone who’s done tiptoeing around our past?”

Yeonjun clenched his fists… because it was the only thing he could do to hide how much his chest hurt. “Soobin…”

“That night at the club…” Soobin interrupted. “You came backstage. You remember it, don’t you?”

The breath caught in Yeonjun’s throat.

Soobin remembered the past like it still lived inside him. “You stood in the middle of that room like you didn’t know where you belonged… Like you were ready to run at any moment… because somewhere deep down, you felt like you didn’t deserve to be there. Not where we were. Even though you said you’d stay…”

The memory uncoiled… came alive again. Yeonjun, trying to hide among the crowd, silently praying Kai and Soobin wouldn’t notice him. The two of them electrifying the stage with a wild, merciless energy that made them glow. Yeonjun had watched them… unable to look away.

“I remember.”

“You said this time, you’d stay.” Soobin took the final step closing the distance between them, his voice dropping into an unfiltered whisper. “You said you weren’t going to disappear again.”

Yeonjun’s eyes flicked back and forth between Soobin’s, desperate to look away… but those eyes were like quickKaid. Once you stepped in, they devoured you slowly, completely. His lips parted… no sound came out.

Soobin was only a breath away now. He could’ve passed him, walked by, left it all behind—but he didn’t. He stood still. The air between them thickened, heavy with words unsaid and feelings that perhaps should have stayed untouched. They crawled under Yeonjun’s skin like confusion and regret.

“But you vanished,” Soobin murmured, disappointment wrapped tight around the words. “Again.”

“Soobin, I told you it was a busy week—”

“No, Yeonjun.” His voice was soft, but it sliced like a blade. “You chose to retreat into your shell again for a whole damn month. You could’ve tried… you could’ve shown your face . You could’ve called. Texted. Something. But you didn’t do a damn thing.”

Yeonjun dropped his head, his jaw trembling. “That’s not fair…”

“Oh, and I suppose you get to decide what’s fair now, since you’re the lawyer?” Soobin leaned in, hunting for Yeonjun’s eyes locked on the floor. “Why do you think it’s fair that you… showing up after ten years, act like nothing’s changed… and then call my anger as immature?”

Yeonjun raised his head, frustration tightening his voice. “I told you I’m trying… I’m trying to stay. Why won’t you see that?”

Soobin’s gaze slipped lower… and Yeonjun could feel it. The warmth that settled against his mouth, his lips. The silence stretched… seconds blurring into each other until it felt like their silence was starting to bleed.

“I told you….” Soobin whispered, cold and dangerously calm, “if you disappear again, I’ll kill you myself.”

A nervous laugh escaped Yeonjun’s throat… sharp, uncertain. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Am I?” Soobin’s voice wrapped around the moment like silk around lightning… smooth, but threatening. “You think I don’t mean what I say?”

Yeonjun stepped back half-heartedly, confusion knitting his brow. “You… you shouldn’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Soobin mirrored the step, refusing to let space grow. “Like someone who knows if he blinks, you’ll vanish into the earth?”

His gaze said more than his words… things Yeonjun didn’t know how to understand, couldn’t dare name aloud. Damn it… Soobin wasn’t supposed to look at him like that - like Yeonjun used to look at them - all longing and unspoken ache, buried under years of silence.

“You have Kai.”

Soobin’s eyes narrowed, like Yeonjun had hit a nerve. “Don’t say his name like that.”

Yeonjun stared at him for a long moment. He searched for a flicker of hatred in Soobin’s expression… but found only pain, and a tension that clung to his throat.

Soobin exhaled slowly through his nose, then suddenly turned, facing the garden. His shoulders were taut with everything he wasn’t saying. The silence now felt different. Heavier. Not with tension between them—but with something deeper, something wounded and slipping through the cracks.

When he finally spoke, his voice was rough… fractured, like something on the verge of breaking.

“Remember the promise you made to Kai, Yeonjun.” His back was still to him.

Yeonjun’s chest rose and fell, breath unsteady. “Why does me being here matter so much to you?”

Soobin turned slowly, his face half-cast in shadow, half-bathed in moonlight… burning with unspoken fire. “Because…” his voice was thick with something Yeonjun didn’t have a name for. “You don’t get to waltz back into our lives… into my life… flip everything upside down, and then disappear like you were never here. Leave behind broken pieces we have to gather up ourselves. A black hole that nothing can fill.”

He paused… licked his lips, then said, quieter this time. “You didn’t just leave , Yeonjun… You crushed everything under your feet. Kai… and me.”

Yeonjun’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He shut it again, helpless. His hands were trembling, so he shoved them deep into his pockets. The breeze skimmed his neck and bare chest, and he shivered… lost for what to say, how to contain the storm inside him. Soobin’s words were sinking deep… leaving wounds no one could see, but ones that burned .

Soobin stepped closer. His voice dropped lower… not softer, but solid. Controlled. Dangerous in a different way. “I don’t trust easily. You know that. But I trusted you . And that means something to me.”

His eyes locked on Yeonjun’s… unyielding, sharp, like a blade resting at his throat. “So no, you don’t get to vanish without consequences.”

Yeonjun swallowed the bitter dryness in his mouth, his voice cracking as it emerged. “Do you think you own everyone who walks into your life?”

Soobin’s smile was faint. Tired. Almost aching. “No. Just the ones who make me feel like they own part of me . And you…” His voice lowered, softer now. “You had my dream, Yeonjun.”

The words dropped like a stone into still water, sending ripples through the quiet. Yeonjun couldn’t look at him. He turned his gaze to the garden, to the soft shimmer of moonlight on the grass, the gentle sway of hydrangeas in the wind. Their petals glowing… like promises too delicate to hold. Fragile enough to vanish with a breath.

“I’m not Kai,” he finally said, voice low but resolute.

Soobin’s eyes softened for a moment - just a moment - before sharpening again. “I know.” His voice was hushed, like a secret only the night was meant to hear. “I don’t want you to be.”

Those words stole the breath from Yeonjun’s lungs. They forced him to look . At the shadows stretched across Soobin’s face. At the raw, honest eyes that bore into him.

“And yet, you still owe me,” Soobin whispered now, barely louder than the breeze.

Yeonjun’s brows furrowed, confused. “Owe you for what?”

Soobin didn’t blink. “For everything you said. For walking away from our dream. For calling it foolish.”

Yeonjun could only stare… Soobin had stripped himself bare, pulled away every layer, and now stood unguarded beneath his gaze.

Then Soobin moved closer. Close enough for Yeonjun to feel the warmth of his body. The faint scent of his cologne floated between them… subtle, haunting.

“You don’t get to do that, Yeonjun…” His voice came slow and deliberate, like explaining something to a stubborn child. “You don’t get to drag us both into your little emotional game, drown us in it, and then leave like we never mattered.”

“I didn’t mean to—” Yeonjun tried to explain, desperate, because Kai and Soobin had never been meaningless to him. Damn it, they were the meaning.

Soobin cut him off, breath breaking. “Didn’t mean to?”

His voice rose, just slightly. “You knew what you were doing. Every glance, every word. Every time you let me believe you’d stay… believe the three of us could finally have what we wanted. You knew .”

Yeonjun couldn’t breathe. His fists clenched in his pockets. “I never promised anything I didn’t believe in.”

Soobin laughed… a hollow, bitter sound that barely escaped his throat. “That’s the problem. You did believe in it. Every damn part of it. And you still left… because you were too afraid.”

Silence fell. Dense and inescapable. The truth sat heavy between them. Yeonjun’s heart pounded, each beat reminding him of how dangerously close they were. And Soobin’s eyes - wild, hungry - moved over him like he was memorizing every detail before it disappeared forever.

“You think I wanted to leave?” His voice finally cracked, shattered like glass. “You think I wanted to turn my back on you?”

Soobin’s eyes narrowed, searching his face. “Then why did you?”

Yeonjun took in a shaky breath. His eyes flicked up to the string lights above. They blurred. Tears welled, clinging to his lashes. “Because it was too much. You were too much. Kai was too much. Our dream… it was too much. And me? I was too weak for it .”

Soobin froze. His breath stopped. He stood still… utterly still. “Too much…” he echoed, voice low, eyes unreadable. He stepped forward—so close now that his breath warmed Yeonjun’s face, his sleeve brushing his arm. “And what about you , Yeonjun? You think you weren't  too much? You think Kai and I just let anyone in?”

“I never meant to hurt you.”

Soobin’s smile was faint. And broken. “That’s the worst part.” He said it softly. “I don’t think you ever mean to do anything. You just… do it.”

Yeonjun wanted to say something to pull him back, to fix it… but every time, he only seemed to break it more.

Soobin took a step back. The moment cracked. His gaze turned flat. Emotionless. “I wonder what Kai would’ve said if he were here… He’s always gentle with you. Never pushes. That’s why you never tell him anything.”

Yeonjun’s voice barely rose above a whisper. “What do you want from me, Soobin?”

“I want you to stop running. I want you to stay . Just this once. And if you can’t… if you won’t… then don’t come back again.”

Soobin’s voice landed like a blow. A sentence. A demand written in finality. Yeonjun knew… Soobin didn’t beg. Not unless he was so close to breaking he feared the repeat of it.

But… why did his presence matter so much?

He was just an old friend, probably a wall between whatever Soobin and Kai had together… And yet, when he thought about Kai’s warm smile and Soobin’s savage stare, his body burned. His mind spun.

Soobin didn’t wait for an answer. He brushed past him, shoulder brushing shoulder. A short, searing touch. One that left a mark, deep under Yeonjun’s skin.

Yeonjun turned, eyes chasing after him, breath still shaky. Only they - only Kai and Soobin - could do this to him.

Soobin walked back toward the entrance, his shadow stretching behind him, long and dark… like a memory that refused to fade.

And then, without turning around, his voice floated out from the darkness. “We’re performing next week… Don’t come… if you’re still planning on being a coward.”

The words hung in the air. Final. Heavy. And then he was gone—swallowed by the light and stone and noise beyond the glass wall.

Leaving Yeonjun with only the cricket’s song… and the sting in his chest.

*****

Yeonjun remembered the first time he saw Kai and Soobin as if it were etched into the corners of his memory… a warm, fragile moment, impossible to forget.

It was the early days of high school…

He was fifteen then, newly transferred, a wandering soul amidst the gleaming hallways of a school not built for boys like him. Quiet, introspective, lacking the polished charm that made others seem effortlessly captivating. Yeonjun loathed the cafeteria, the crowded corridors that reminded him of rush-hour subways. Most days, he’d slip away to the secluded courtyard behind the main building, where his only companions were the distant squeak of sneakers on asphalt and the soft rustle of wind through the trees.

The new school felt like an unfeeling labyrinth. Yeonjun navigated its sterile white hallways and the clamor of raucous laughter, never quite finding a place for himself in the noise. His assigned seat was by the window, and the only thing that made the days bearable was the gentle light spilling across his desk. Though a month had passed since the term began, he hadn’t spoken much to anyone… not because he didn’t want to, but because he didn’t know how. He preferred to sit alone in a quiet corner, listening to the sounds of nature, tuning his guitar in his mind.

That day, the air was like a damp, gray cloth… cool and heavy. Yeonjun sat alone in the courtyard, legs crossed, hands braced against the grass, eyes closed… not from exhaustion, but to escape the weight of others’ gazes. He pretended that if he breathed deeply enough, he might sink into the earth and vanish, letting the world forget he didn’t belong in a place like this. Let time slip by unnoticed.

Just when he thought it was another colorless, aimless day, the sound of soft footsteps approached. A shadow dimmed the sunlight warming his face. Someone sat beside him… close, but not so close that Yeonjun could feel their warmth. Someone was there, beside him, sitting… uninvited, with an easy nonchalance.

Yeonjun cracked one eye open, irritation flickering. Then he saw him.

Dark hair with slightly curled ends, skin that seemed to glow golden under the sun’s touch. A smile… not flashy or loud, but real, as if he knew something Yeonjun didn’t. And his eyes… eyes like a storm held at bay, clouded yet defiant, as if he’d challenged the world to a duel and emerged standing tall.

The boy tilted his head, his movements playful. “Aren’t you the one who was playing guitar alone in the music room?”

His voice was warm… not the kind that demands attention, but like an instrument whose resonance lingers after it falls silent. Yeonjun blinked, his throat dry.

The boy continued, kind and assured. “Second floor, end of the hall. The door that creaks like it’s screaming when you open it. You were playing… like no one could hear you.”

Yeonjun’s heart thudded hard. For a moment, air caught in his lungs. Because this was the first time someone spoke to him not as a stranger, but as something rare, something worth noticing.

His voice came out low, cracked. “You… how do you know that?”

The boy shrugged. “The room was empty, door left ajar. I heard your guitar and got curious. You were like a shadow, blending into the notes. Like… a light that doesn’t know it’s shining.”

Yeonjun blinked. That phrase “a light that doesn’t know it’s shining” would echo in his mind for days.

“You’re good,” the boy added, his smile widening with each word. “Not like you’re showing off. Like you’re speaking without words. Honest.”

Yeonjun’s breath hitched. No one had ever described him like that… sincerely, unguardedly. Honestly, he didn’t think he’d ever been honest. The silence that followed wasn’t heavy; it was the kind that let him breathe.

“What’s your name?” Yeonjun finally asked, his voice trembling but resolute. He wasn’t the kind of introvert to crumble into childish shyness.

The boy’s eyes softened. “Huening Kai.” He extended his hand. “We’re in the same class, though you haven’t noticed.”

Yeonjun hesitated, then shook Kai’s hand. It felt smaller, cooler than his own. Kai let the silence linger for a moment before breaking it effortlessly.

“If you want…” He ran a hand through his hair. “You could join us. Me and Soobin… we practically live in that music room after class. We don’t bite.”

“Soobin?” Yeonjun asked.

“My friend. More than a friend, really. We play, sing, fight, laugh… rockstar dreams, you know?”

Yeonjun nodded slightly. “Why do you want me there?”

Kai’s laugh was warm, infectious. He clasped his hands behind his head. “Because you seem like someone waiting to be brave.”

Yeonjun swallowed. The words held no pity, only awareness.

“I’m not good with people,” was all he could manage, shrinking into himself.

Kai’s smile was knowing. “Neither are we. But we learn together.”

In that moment, something in Yeonjun cracked… not from pain, but from being seen. From letting light touch his shadowed world.

“Music’s good for that,” Kai said, gazing at the sky, shielding his eyes from the sun. Light slipped through his fingers. “It doesn’t care if you’re loud or quiet. It just wants to know if you love it.”

It was a strange, lingering moment, the kind that settles into memory like ash on skin. Yeonjun turned to him. “And Soobin?”

“Soobin’s chaos itself. Plays music like he’s chasing something he can’t name… guitar, drums, bass… You’ll like him.”

Yeonjun didn’t know what to say. He feared saying too much, breaking the moment with a clumsy breath. Selfishly, he wanted to cling to it. Kai was the first person he looked at and wanted to draw closer to, heedless of the risk of burning in the sun’s embrace. A stranger, yet Yeonjun felt at ease. Kai didn’t expect much, only saw the Choi Yeonjun he’d forgotten existed.

“Ever feel like the world’s too loud?” Yeonjun asked.

Kai leaned back, collapsing onto the grass, hands behind his head, eyes on Yeonjun. “Always,” he murmured. “That’s why we make our own sounds.”

And for the first time in a long while, Yeonjun smiled.

The next morning, gray clouds seemed to cradle the sky. The school courtyard was cold and quiet. The bell signaling the end of class had rung, and Yeonjun used it as an excuse to flee… from the noisy world where he felt lost, from grating voices, meaningless glances, everything forcing him to be “normal.”

The hallway to the music room was old, silent… too silent for the afternoon, as if that part of the sprawling school had been forgotten, like the dreams gathering dust in Yeonjun’s mind. He returned there, as he had the day before and the days before that, to the same place, the same time. The music room was his Kaictuary, muffling the outside world, letting him surrender to music, freeing a part of himself no one was allowed to see. No one cared to see. There was something steady in the room’s quiet, woven into its worn, cracked walls, the lingering scent of aged wood and copper strings, a judgment-free warmth that enveloped him each time.

Kai had said they came here every day, he and his friend. Yet in the month since Yeonjun arrived, he’d never seen them… This place was the only corner of the grand school that didn’t make him feel trapped in the wrong body.

But today, something was different. When he pushed open the door with its familiar creak, he froze mid-step.

Someone was there.

A boy… taller than him, it seemed… with short, dark hair falling messily over his forehead, framing his face. He sat on the edge of a battered desk by the window, one leg swinging, the other tucked up. A thin sliver of light, sharp and faint, cut through the window, accentuating his cheekbone, lending his face an enigmatic air.

His eyes turned to Yeonjun. Slowly, deliberately, heavy… not threatening, not warm or welcoming, just weighty. Like the gaze of someone not just seeing you, but measuring you, reading you, assessing your presence.

Yeonjun stood rooted, his brief joy at solitude snuffed out. The universe seemed intent on stealing even that small peace, tossing him into chaos. The boy didn’t speak, letting silence and his piercing stare gnaw at Yeonjun, urging him to flee from that gaze. No one should look at him like that. But the boy raised an eyebrow and said, “So it’s you.”

His voice was deep, measured, laced with something indefinable. “The guy Kai was talking about.”

It wasn’t a question but a statement… cool, certain, tinged with something unreadable. His words hung in the air like the final note of an unfinished song.

Yeonjun’s hand clenched, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around himself. “What?”

The boy tilted his head, appraising him. “Hmm.” He let silence build, like a rockstar letting a song fade before exploding back with electrifying force. His presence carried that same tension, thrilling and unnerving. Yeonjun felt like prey under his gaze.

“Pretty boy,” he said, his tone dry, his face unyielding. “Prettier than anyone in this school, Kai said. About your height, maybe an inch or two shorter. Wandering our music room like he owns it, like it’s the only place he belongs. If it’s not you, who else could it be?”

Yeonjun’s breath caught, a mix of confusion and disbelief surging through him, his blood alight with a strange thrill. No one had ever called him “pretty”… “handsome” and “attractive” sure, but not something as tender as “pretty.” The boy said it like it was carved in stone, not a compliment but a fact.

Yeonjun’s dry lips parted to respond, but words failed him. He was paralyzed, not by fear but by a sudden, unfamiliar longing. The boy sighed, long and exasperated, as if Yeonjun’s stillness frustrated him. He stood, and, god,was he really that tall, or did the heavy silence make him loom larger? Yeonjun felt small but fought the instinct to step back, knowing better than to show weakness to someone like him. There was no threat, but a pull, a force drawing him in without permission.

The boy stepped closer, close enough for the air between them to crackle. He extended his hand. “Choi Soobin.”

The name rang familiar… Kai’s friend, Soobin. Was this fate? His introduction was calculated, not just a name but an expectation, as if he knew Kai spoke of him. His gaze held Yeonjun’s, bold, unwavering, not once blinking.

Yeonjun looked down. Soobin’s hand was large, faint scars on his fingertips. His palm was open, waiting, but his steady eyes screamed: Take it or don’t. I won’t ask again.

After a brief pause, Yeonjun reached out. Soobin’s hand wasn’t cold… warm, with a firm but not harsh grip. “Yeonjun… Choi Yeonjun.”

Soobin’s grasp was strong but not cruel. “Quieter than I expected,” he murmured, more to himself. “But your presence… it’s loud in its silence.”

They stood like that for a moment. “So you’re Kai’s puzzle,” Soobin said.

Yeonjun’s brows lifted. “Puzzle?”

Soobin released his hand, glancing at the guitar across the room. “Kai hasn’t shut up about you since he saw you here. Makes me a bit jealous.”

Yeonjun had no idea how to respond. He wasn’t used to this… to being seen. He didn’t even know what Soobin saw. Soobin stepped back, leaning against the desk, arms crossed, nodding toward Yeonjun’s guitar. “Show me.”

“What?”

“How you play. Kai doesn’t talk about just anyone. They’ve got to break through his defenses, impress him. He said you play like you’re talking to someone who left you behind.”

Yeonjun looked down. “I don’t think he saw that.”

The corner of Soobin’s lips twitched… not a smile, not a smirk, something in between, amused yet disbelieving. “Don’t lie to me, pretty boy. I’m good at spotting them. Lies… and pretty boys.”

Yeonjun turned away, his fist trembling, his face burning. Choi Soobin was flirting, teasing, provoking. He glanced at the guitar, as if daring Yeonjun to play. And Yeonjun wanted to.

Soobin noticed, his gaze softening slightly. “Play something… anything… ” he said, nodding at the instrument. “If you’re going to haunt this place like a ghost, at least make it musical. I want to see how special the guy who caught Kai’s eye is.”

His voice wasn’t cruel, but it wasn’t kind either… curiosity cloaked in indifference. Yeonjun hesitated. No one had ever asked him to play. That old voice stirred in his mind… Focus on what matters, keep your head down, don’t waste time on dreams that don’t pay the bills.

But here, under a stranger’s piercing gaze, those voices felt insignificant. His hands burned with sweat. He hated playing for others… no one cared to listen. But Soobin… he made Yeonjun’s blood hum with anticipation. He moved to his guitar, its familiar weight settling in his hands. The strings felt calm under his fingers, a language that didn’t need to force words. He began… a melody he’d practiced a hundred times, maybe more. The notes trembled at first, then his body remembered what his mind fought to forget. This was the only place he could speak freely. This time was different. Someone was listening.

He didn’t look at Soobin as he played, but he felt his attention, the air in the room shifting. When he finished, he didn’t look up immediately. Silence stretched. Then—

“Told you,” Soobin said. “There’s something to see.”

Yeonjun only blinked. Soobin continued, “Yeah, I get it.”

Confusion flooded Yeonjun’s stoic face. “Get what?”

“What you’re doing… what you’re trying to say with your music.” He paused, his face half-shadowed, his voice soft. “You don’t play to be heard. You play not to be forgotten.”

Now, two pairs of eyes watched him… one from afar, named Kai, and one close, full of questions, named Soobin.

Yeonjun’s eyes widened. It wasn’t flattery or pity… it was real.

“You’re weird,” Soobin said, his eyes glinting like he was studying a star up close, marveling at its details. “Weird always gets things done.”

Yeonjun’s silence didn’t bother him.

“You’re like someone who’s spent their life being perfect at what others expect of them…” Soobin said, glancing out the window. “But no one’s ever asked what you want to be good at. What you want to do.”

He turned back, locking eyes with Yeonjun. “You hide behind perfect grades and quiet lunches. But you can’t play like that and expect no one to notice. Kai noticed. We noticed.”

That word “We” made Yeonjun’s chest tighten. Not just Soobin. Not just Kai. A group… A space…  A place he might finally belong to.

“Why would you even want me here?” Yeonjun asked, his voice breaking free.

“Kai likes you. That doesn’t happen often. He’s reckless with his heart but stingy with his attention. He doesn’t give it to just anyone.”

Yeonjun looked down, his grip tightening on his guitar. “That’s… interesting.”

Soobin’s tone softened, laced with curiosity. “Tell me the truth. Why are you here?”

His curiosity pierced Yeonjun’s defenses. Yeonjun thought, then whispered. “To breathe.”

Soobin stared for a moment, then smiled… not loud, not mocking, but almost… admiring.

“Well,” he said, pushing off the desk. “Guess it’s time we see what happens when you stop holding your breath.”

In that moment, something fell into place in Yeonjun’s heart… a note, a question, the start of something vast.

Soobin’s tall frame moved toward the door, the air shifting with him. “If you want to play alone, that’s your choice. But if you want to scream with someone else, we’re here.”

Before he left, he glanced over his shoulder at the stunned Yeonjun. “Besides, right now, we’re two storms and a heavy silence. Could be interesting.”

Then he was gone, leaving Yeonjun in a room that no longer felt so lonely, pulsing with hope, excitement, and music:))))

And now… though more than a decade had passed and Yeonjun was no longer that raw, uncertain teenager, the mere mention of their names - Kai and Soobin - still set his skin ablaze, like a scar so deep it could never fade.

The silence in his office was lifeless, heavy with unspoken whispers, broken only by the relentless ticking of a minimalist clock and the distant groan of wind pressing against the windows. Soft, diffused light filtered through double-paned glass, casting a faint, tender glow across the tiled floor, as if guarding the world outside like a buried secret. That world spun on, indifferent, unyielding.

It was late… late in the way that drained the sky of color, leaving it a monolithic slab of charcoal. Everyone had gone home; even the cleaners’ murmurs echoed faintly as they passed his door. Yet Yeonjun remained, alone, as always.

A thick stack of documents sat before him on the desk… neat, orderly, though the pages were slightly wavy from constant handling. Purchase agreements, contracts, and a particularly thorny settlement case that tested his patience relentlessly. His black pen slipped from between his index and middle fingers, rolling across the desk with a precision that felt almost mocking.

But in the last twenty minutes, he hadn’t managed to read a single page properly. Instead, his eyes lingered with an odd calm on one specific clause.

“Compensation.”

A promise to protect, to undo the harm caused by another’s mistake.

He almost laughed… not with joy, but with a bitter tang that settled in the back of his throat.

These past few days had left him no room to breathe, no matter how meticulously he reviewed contract clauses or how late he stayed buried in work. His mind kept circling back to that night, trapped in an endless loop.

The wedding. Kai’s voice. Soobin’s piercing gaze. And then, the garden, its dim lights, the muffled hum of crickets. That night, Soobin had stood close… close enough for Yeonjun to breathe air laced with his scent, his breath. Soobin’s voice was low, the kind that carried danger not in its volume but in its quiet weight, a silent threat tailored for Yeonjun alone…. A madness cloaked in stillness, a grief and warning that didn’t scream but pulsed through every word.

“You can’t drag us both into your little emotional game, drown us in your mess, and then walk away like we meant nothing.”

Those words, that voice… they didn’t let go. Especially not when they broke in the throat of someone like Choi Soobin, a man nothing in the world could break.

Even now, those words lived in Yeonjun’s mind, each memory a stab to his heart. He hadn’t answered… not directly. He’d just stood there, teeth gritted, insides twisting, heart pounding. A thouKaid thoughts, but no words.

Yet after ten years… ten years of climbing to this position, of accolades, of days spent in courtrooms and nights behind closed doors… he’d earned his independence, the respect of others, even the silence he’d always craved. But still… still… when he was near them, something inside him trembled. Kai’s eyes, Soobin’s voice… each time, it was like a memory wrapping its claws around his throat, whispering, You’re not done.

There had always been a palpable pull between the three of them… chaotic, unbalanced, and achingly real. Yeonjun, the silence; Kai, the fire; Soobin, the storm before it breaks.

And Yeonjun had spent his life running from that pull… Now, it only exhausted him.

He dragged a hand across his face and closed the documents before him. The papers rustled softly, almost apologetic. Leaning back in his chair, his fingertip traced a brief dance along the edge of the folder, then tapped it… not in anger, just a habit of being present . He was always present.

It was a trait that had defined him since childhood, shaping his life around being there for others… for clients, for family, for expectations that began before he’d even learned to say “no.” Even now, Yeonjun was what others wanted… composed, measured, brilliant, restrained.

But being near them - Kai and Soobin - ruined it all. Even after all this time, after growing stronger, sharper, more refined, seeing them made everything feel like it used to. His chest tightened, his breaths came uneven, his thoughts unraveled, slipping back to the past.

Kai, with that unshakable allure, like the glow of a flame. Soobin, with his stormy silence… cool to the eye but burning to the touch.

Together, they were a rhythm Yeonjun couldn’t keep up with, yet he never stopped chasing. Sometimes he wondered if his role in their lives was as seismic as theirs in his… if he’d broken Kai, unraveled Soobin as they had him.

He glanced at the folder again, but the words had lost meaning. They felt like a performance now, a distraction to keep him from the madness within. None of it carried the weight of that moment at the wedding, the gravity swirling between him, Soobin, and Kai… It hadn’t been bound by contracts or rules, but it was laced with a connection so deep it defied naming.

He picked up his phone. Hesitated. His thumb hovered over the screen, his expression steady… not uncertain, but certain. Yeonjun was never impulsive; he overthought himself to the edge of ruin. But now, he felt sure. He unlocked the phone and scrolled through his contacts.

Thanks to Jay’s courtesy, who’d coolly sent him their contact info with a note: “ Just in case. For when you finally find the guts.”

Yeonjun had smiled at that.

He found the name: Choi Soobin. Bare, no photo, no extra details… just a name, silent and foreign, like a door he feared to open. He tapped it, and the empty chat mocked him.

He opened the message field, typed, then erased. Typed again, and the cycle repeated.

Until he finally decided.

‘I don’t want to run anymore. If there’s still a place for me with you and Kai, I’d like to find my way back… if you’ll have me.’

He read it over and over. It wasn’t poetic or rational. But it was what he’d wanted to say for years. And maybe, for the first time, that was enough.

He hit send, his chest pounding. After agonizing minutes, the second tick appeared… Soobin had seen it.

But no reply came. Of course… Soobin never replied quickly, if at all. He didn’t have to. He was too controlled, patient when he chose, cold when needed. Yeonjun had no right to expect warmth or attention.

He set the phone down with a heavy sigh, but before he could even pick up the folder, it buzzed. He didn’t turn immediately, foolishly clinging to his pride. It buzzed again.

He grabbed it, unlocking it with a practiced calm, dreading the response more than he’d admit.

[ Choi Soobin ]:

‘You kept us waiting long enough, Counselor. 
Now I owe Kai 10,000 won. 
We bet on whether you’d message. Kai said you would. I said you’d bail.’

Yeonjun blinked, rereading it. Soobin’s smirk bled through the screen… playful, ruthless. But Yeonjun knew better; Soobin wasn’t upset about losing the bet.

His lips trembled… Yeonjun didn’t smile often, especially not alone in his empty office, but this was the closest he’d come to real in a long time.

Another message came. No words this time… just a photo.

A black-and-white QR code.

Below it, a caption:

‘VIP access. Backstage. Don’t be late. 
There’s no second chance for first times, Yeonjun. This one’s already overdue.’

He tapped the image, letting it fill his screen. For a long moment, he didn’t move. Then he saved it.

And for the first time in weeks, he left work early.

Yeonjun had no idea time could move so fast. By the time Friday night arrived, everything was swallowed in an inescapable whirlwind.

This time, the venue was far grander than the last time he’d seen them perform… no longer a small, dim club but a proper concert hall. Vast space, high ceilings, warm stage lights spilling through velvet curtains. A place with sprawling backstage corridors, laminated passes, security guards pacing, and footsteps echoing in the vastness.

It should’ve felt safe. But Yeonjun had never felt so out of place… not among the bodies that would soon fill this space, nor the rhythm that would shake its walls. His life as a lawyer had burned his dreams to ash.

The low hum of the waiting crowd seeped through the walls… muffled but electric, a constant murmur of anticipation that didn’t touch him. He’d arrived an hour and a half early, just as Soobin had demanded. Of course he had.

Because when Soobin said, “Don’t be late,” what he meant was, “I don’t trust you not to run.” And Yeonjun had no intention of proving him right.

Still, he smoothed his shirt cuff for the fifth time and glanced down the corridor, half-expecting to vanish. Nervous didn’t begin to describe it. He’d stood before judges, in boardrooms, over high-stakes contracts without flinching. But this? This was stepping into the embrace of his first emotional failure, his first addiction, his first unfinished sentence.

All of it wrapped in two bodies: Kai and Soobin. Chaos and control. Fire and gravity. Yet here he was, because he’d promised himself he wouldn’t run… not this time. He’d promised to taste what it meant to live, just once. So he’d taken a taxi, leaving no chance to turn back.

The VIP entrance was a plain concrete door in a side alley, unmarked save for a small buzzer and a screen… When he scanned the QR code, the screen flickered, emitting a soft beep .

A woman in all black opened the door, holding a clipboard, an earpiece in place. She looked professional, polite, indifferent.

“Mr. Choi Yeonjun?” she asked, her voice steady, as if this was the most routine task she’d ever done.

Yeonjun nodded, saving his energy for the moment he’d face the two tempests in human form.

She gave him a quick once-over, her gaze carrying a hint of curiosity, as if he was too different for a place like this. “They’re expecting you. Follow me. Backstage is this way.”

She asked no questions, didn’t glance back, just led him through narrow corridors with bare walls. The air smelled of electrical wiring, dust, and neon light.

After a few turns, she stopped and pointed to a door at the end of the hall. “That’s the room. You can wait there until the others arrive.”

Yeonjun gave her the smile he reserved for clients. “Thank you.”

She nodded and left. They’re expecting you. The words hit his chest like a physical blow. His feet moved before his mind caught up, steps slow, deliberate, their sound echoing on the polished floor. His hand trembled, slick with sweat, as it closed around the cold door handle. He took a deep breath, pushed, and the door swung open. The air grew thick with the scent of sweat and sharp cologne.

He didn’t notice the sounds at first… not until he stepped inside.

Then his gaze shifted, and the world stopped.

For a moment - or longer - his breath caught. Recognition kicked in, and it only made things worse. The room was dimly lit, warm and heavy, thick with sweat, cologne, and something else he couldn’t name. Half-drawn velvet curtains framed a small lamp casting a soft glow on the couch in the center. And on that couch were Kai and Soobin… close, so close there seemed no barrier between them, not even air.

Kai’s bare torso gleamed with sweat, his sculpted muscles flushed with heat, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His legs were spread, bracketing Soobin’s thighs, as if that was the only place in the world he belonged. His arms were looped around Soobin’s neck, possessive, fingers pressing into the soft, pale skin of his throat, alive with intent… His hips tilted forward, mouth parted, a sound between a gasp and a moan escaping him.

And Soobin? Soobin was sin itself, draped in velvet darkness, hiding his edge.

That same dark sin had one hand inside Kai’s pants, shamelessly curled around his hardened length, drawing pleasure from every fiber of his being. His other hand was tangled in Kai’s dark, messy hair. His lips roamed… Kai’s neck, his jaw, his mouth, his tongue savoring every inch. He leaned forward, whispering something in Kai’s ear, his voice low, sharp, sinful yet filthy. Kai, eyes half-closed, lips wet, only gasped, moaned… pressing himself closer with every movement of Soobin’s hand.

“Oh, God… oh, fuck… faster, baby, hmm? Don’t you want to make me feel good?”

Soobin’s teeth grazed his lower lip, as if the sight of Kai like this was enough to push him over the edge.

The heat in the room choked Yeonjun like smoke in his lungs. He was frozen, unsure whether to look away, run without a plan, or stay and watch… letting every stroke of Soobin’s hand, every broken sound from Kai, unravel his life. They hadn’t noticed him. Or so he thought.

But after a moment - an eternity - Soobin’s eyes opened, pupils locking onto Yeonjun’s with chilling certainty. Unflinching. Cold. Without a trace of regret.

Soobin let his lips curl into a sickening smirk. “Yeonjun’s at the door, Kai. Watching us. Watching you, all tough and beautiful, fall apart under my hands, begging.”

Yeonjun could feel his heart in his throat. Soobin’s words didn’t shame him… they made him burn hotter.

Kai said nothing. Instead, his grip on Soobin’s throat tightened, cutting off his breath. His other hand slid back, twisting into Soobin’s damp hair, pulling hard with a violence laced with desire. “Then make me come…” he said. “Show Yeonjun how good you can be for me.”

Soobin’s eyes fluttered shut, a curse muttered under his breath. Yeonjun’s fingers tightened on the door handle, stifling a needy sound clawing at his throat. Kai pressed himself closer to Soobin’s bare, warm torso, his tongue tracing Soobin’s jaw, his hand gliding over the exposed skin of his chest and stomach… dancing softly over a tattoo.

No one panicked. No one covered up or apologized. Just silence… and then, intensity. Soobin didn’t stop. If anything, his touch grew faster, firmer, his hand - still inside Kai’s pants - moving with brazen intent, coaxing a shuddering gasp and a broken moan from Kai’s lips.

And Yeonjun? He stood rooted in the doorway, stunned, feeling like this was a performance staged for him. He wanted to slam his head against the nearest wall, to shake the desire coursing through him, to end the pathetic chaos of his life.

Kai, coming down from his high, turned his head. His damp hair clung to his forehead, his half-open eyes hazy with pleasure, as if a cloud had settled over his pupils, blurring everything. His lips parted, panting softly. “You’re early,” he said, voice rough. “Not late, right?”

Those were the first words he spoke after… this. Yeonjun was losing his mind.

Soobin didn’t bother pulling his hand from Kai’s pants, his state as debauched as his boyfriend’s sprawled across his lap. “Knew you’d come early,” he said. “You can’t wait when you’re excited.”

He said it like this moment was planned.. not an accident, not a coincidence, but a performance staged because they knew they’d have an audience.

Yeonjun couldn’t speak. He didn’t trust his voice. His heart pounded… not from fear or anxiety, but something darker, more foolish. Memories. A longing that had burrowed deep and taken root.

The terrifying truth that someone still wanted him, even after all these years.

He’d seen them like this before, knew how dangerous the desire between Kai and Soobin could be. He’d felt traces of it himself in fleeting glances, touches heavy with hidden meaning. But this - what he’d walked into - was undeniable. A closeness, a need laid bare in its rawest form. Not just desire, but belonging. Yet Yeonjun stood at the door like a man barred from his own dream.

Soobin leaned forward, lips brushing Kai’s ear, but his eyes never left Yeonjun’s, sharp as a blade finding its mark. “You can come in,” he said, his lips grazing Kai’s earlobe. “Or stand there and pretend you don’t want this.”

Something lived in the grit of his voice, in his words… an invitation meant for Yeonjun alone.

Kai took a breath, his body trembling as he pressed closer to Soobin’s touch. “Your choice, Yeonjun.”

His name on Kai’s lips was like a shock.

Yeonjun didn’t move. He couldn’t even swallow. His fingers twitched with the urge to reach out, to touch, to feel, but despite the chaos tearing him apart inside, his face remained cold, impassive. The only crack in his stoic mask was the long, trembling breath he drew.

He didn’t step forward… not yet. But he didn’t leave, either. Because now he understood Soobin’s words from the garden, the look he’d given him, brimming with heat and madness.

This was what Yeonjun had left behind—not just chaos or affection, but a connection etched into their bodies, both physical and emotional, rooted so deep he didn’t know what to call it. Or if he could call it anything at all.

Ten years ago, when Yeonjun left, he’d wanted to make his family proud, to be the good son they expected. But alongside that, he was running… from the feelings Kai and Soobin stirred in him, feelings that made his fragile body and ailing heart ache with something too vast, too heavy for someone like him. He left because he didn’t know how to answer Kai’s lingering, weighty gazes. He left because Soobin’s possessive, fleeting touches short-circuited his mind… He felt both extraneous and overwhelmed, more than someone like Yeonjun could bear.

Yeonjun opened his mouth, his voice steady but soft. “I’ve made my choice, Kai. That’s why I’m here.”

Kai’s lips curved into a smirk… gentle, knowing, clinging to the edges of his expression. He pressed his body closer to Soobin’s chest, his breaths still uneven, not yet settled.

Soobin’s eyes narrowed, one hand playing idly with Kai’s hair. When he spoke, his voice carried a maddening calm. “Then close the damn door behind you.”

It was a command, laced with something unnameable… a hunger, a need draped in silk. An invitation to more.

Yeonjun moved… not because Soobin told him to, but because his body, his heart, his blood, his breath had already chosen. The door closed behind him, softly, with a click that echoed in the room’s quiet. And that room - with its heat, its rhythm, its wordless summons - swallowed Yeonjun whole.

For a moment, he stood there, back to them, hand lingering on the handle, as if letting go might unravel the line he’d just crossed. As if that grip on the cold metal was what kept everything real, kept it from collapsing… His palm was slick with sweat, the chill of the handle clashing harshly with the heat creeping up his neck. He could feel it… a burn slithering beneath his skin, warmth pooling behind his ears.

It was too hot. Too much. He felt his pulse just under his skin, trapped. In his mind, he pleaded desperately, silently that his body wouldn’t betray him, wouldn’t react. He prayed it hadn’t already answered the chaos his mind fought so hard to ignore.

But it had. It was happening.

He stayed there, teetering on that narrow ledge between shame and need, his breaths shallow, his chest rising and falling too quickly beneath his coat. His body was alight, and he knew it as clearly as daylight. The kind of heat that starts at your collarbone and crawls upward, flushing your face, red and inviting. It danced across his skin like a punishment, searing.

Please, he thought. Don’t make this worse than it already is.

But it was worse, wasn’t it? Because it wasn’t just what he’d seen… it was what pulsed beneath his skin like a living thing. What he felt .

Jealousy. Grief. A desire so fierce it was tainted with sin. All of it tangled together, like barbed wire laced with ribbon. A cocktail of guilt and want that clawed at his chest. Yeonjun was glad to be here… truly, he’d never felt so much at once in his life, but the bitterness lodged in his throat told a different story. This wasn’t just admiration. It wasn’t even a simple pull.

And for one sharp, agonizing moment, Yeonjun wanted a place between them. He wanted to be part of their chaos, their fire, the synchronized destruction they seemed built to create and rebuild. He’d fight for it, tear everything down - even himself - because nothing in his life had ever made his heart race with such reckless abandon as Kai and Soobin did. Yeonjun was selfish. He always had been. Even if this feeling, in its most rational form, was wrong, ruinous. They were his friends… his best friends, shamelessly so… but Yeonjun was tired of pretending. Tired of acting like those feelings hadn’t taken root, hadn’t woven themselves into his soul. They were real. And even ten years of distance hadn’t burned them away. If time wasn’t strong enough to kill them, Yeonjun didn’t think he was strong enough to suppress them.

He turned slowly. They were still there, still entwined, almost knotted together.

Kai was panting, his forehead resting against Soobin’s collarbone, his hands loosely draped around his neck, sweat gleaming on his chest. Soobin’s hand remained buried in Kai’s pants, showing no interest in leaving, but his eyes never strayed from Yeonjun. The air between them felt alive, heavy, seductive.

And Yeonjun… only a few steps inside, felt like an intruder in a dream he’d fought to forget. He hated the way his thoughts and heart churned, hated how Kai’s every breath made the muscles in his back flex with that infuriating grace, like temptation veiled in human form. Or the effortless power in Soobin’s thighs, a quiet threat pulsing beneath his relaxed posture. The shameless clarity of his desire, the bulge in his pants half-hidden by the fabric and Kai’s weight… tamed, but lethal.

He hated it all. Most of all, he hated himself.

He wanted to touch them. To lose himself in heavy breaths, in the slow, seductive sound of zippers undone, in kisses that promised release, not regret. He wanted to be part of their inferno… to burn, but to belong. And that desire was the most damning truth he’d ever uncovered.

Soobin leaned into his line of sight, his fingers shifting in Kai’s pants. His lips brushed Kai’s ear, voice low but not so quiet Yeonjun couldn’t hear. “You came so hard, baby. Needed it that bad?”

Yeonjun froze. His heart slammed against his ribs. The words echoed in the room… easy, provocative. There was no apology in Soobin’s voice, just that velvet tone that turned everything into temptation.

Kai laughed, breathless, carefree, lifting his head slightly. “You’re welcome…” he murmured, exhaling sharply. He shifted on Soobin’s lap. “But if you don’t take your hand out of my pants, I might pass out.”

Soobin growled softly, reluctantly pulling his hand free… finally. His palm glistened with moisture, fingertips wet, evidence of their intimacy. He made no effort to hide it, no rush to clean it.

Kai laughed again, disentangling himself from Soobin’s lap, his fingers grazing Soobin’s jaw softly. “Want me to help you out?” he murmured, nodding toward Soobin’s lap.

Soobin’s eyes flicked to Yeonjun, brief and tempting. He tilted his head, that mischievous smirk returning. “I’d love the help, babe,” he said, licking his lips. “But we don’t want to scare Yeonjun off, do we? He’s already red as a damn tomato.”

Yeonjun’s eyes snapped shut, the heat of their gazes boring into his cheeks like sunlight on bare skin. He tried to focus on anything else… the curtains, the floor, but his traitorous eyes caught on the half-open zipper of Soobin’s pants, the glint of skin, the weight of his presence. With Kai no longer obscuring him, it was all too clear. Yeonjun wanted to burn his eyes and brain for noticing, but Soobin saw where his gaze landed, his tongue grazing his teeth, his smirk sharpening.

Yeonjun jerked his head away, staring at the curtains as if they held something more captivating than what was unfolding on that couch.

Kai stood, finally separating from Soobin, his breaths still uneven. He moved with the effortless grace of a dancer, buttoning his pants and zipping them up. He ran a hand through his messy hair, tossing Yeonjun a sheepish glance… a half-apology steeped in playful mischief.

Soobin didn’t move, legs spread, hair disheveled, skin still damp, looking like a seductive deity. He leaned back against the couch, arms resting along the back, his tattoo… a messy, intricate script… more visible now. He watched Yeonjun, unyielding.

Kai turned, glancing briefly at Soobin, then at Yeonjun, his smile softening. “Sorry!” he said casually. “Just… a little pre-show stress relief. You know how intense it can get.”

Yeonjun raised an eyebrow, his voice quieter than the storm in his head. “Maybe next time, lock the door. So no one walks in during… operations.”

Soobin’s eyes gleamed. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Kai rolled his eyes at Soobin, then stepped toward Yeonjun, his shirt still unbuttoned, one sleeve slipping off his shoulder. “Come sit,” he said, gesturing to the couch across from Soobin. “If he gets on your nerves, just ignore him. It pisses him off.”

Soobin’s indignant huff filled the room, and Yeonjun moved cautiously, like he might slip on his own feet. When he sat, his posture was rigid, hands neatly on his knees, trying not to look at Soobin. But Soobin made himself impossible to ignore, and he knew it. The dim light cast soft shadows across his shoulders, his neck, the beads of sweat catching the glow. His skin was golden, marked with ink and fading bruises. And lower… still that telltale bulge beneath his pants. He sat like the embodiment of sin… careless, self-assured, beautifully disheveled, his smile sharp as a blade.

Yeonjun let a shaky breath fill his lungs, eyes dropping to the floor. It was suddenly more tolerable.

Then, a pair of lips brushed his cheek… warm, quick, soft. A kiss that lingered, burning his skin even after it ended.

Kai.

Yeonjun’s eyes shot up in shock. Kai was grinning, playful, unashamed. With the same hand that had just fixed his pants, he ruffled Yeonjun’s hair. “Thanks for coming…” he whispered, his voice lower, truer, its warmth grazing Yeonjun’s ear. Then he pulled back, heading toward the bathroom at the far end of the room, his voice trailing behind. “Gonna wash up. Soobin, maybe clean your hands? Your face, too… you look like a sexy clown post-sex.”

Soobin laughed, amused and lazy, turning to catch Yeonjun’s gaze. “He thinks that’s an insult,” he said brightly. “He’s wrong.”

Yeonjun still couldn’t look at him directly, staring at the floor, pretending a loose guitar pick under the coffee table was more interesting. “You’re… awfully comfortable,” he muttered.

“And you’re awfully tense,” Soobin shot back.

“Maybe because I just walked into the adult version of your warm-up routine.”

Soobin shrugged. “We said come early, not knock. You’re a lawyer, Yeonjun… clarity should be your thing.”

Yeonjun closed his eyes for a moment. He should’ve known. Soobin was a master of words, wielding them like knives or smoke. But behind the teasing, something else watched him.

Yeonjun looked down. “You wanted me to see that, didn’t you?”

Soobin held his gaze for a beat, as if weighing his next words, choosing which would crack Yeonjun open. “Who knows? Maybe we did. Maybe it was just chance. The real question is…” He crossed one leg over the other, a challenge glinting in his eyes. “Did you want to run after seeing it?”

Yeonjun’s eyes fluttered shut, a whisper escaping. “No… I didn’t want to leave. I couldn’t.”

Soobin nodded, his gaze softening but unyielding. “Good.” He stood, tall, half-bare, beautiful, and crossed to the sink in the corner. Turning on the faucet, he washed his hands, asking without looking back, “Staying after the show?”

“If you and Kai want me here.”

Soobin paused mid-wash, then shut off the water and grabbed a towel. Drying his hands, he said, “We want you here. Always have.”

Yeonjun let those words settle in his chest.

“But what we want doesn’t matter,” Soobin continued, turning to meet his eyes again. “What matters is… what do you want, Yeonjun?”

Yeonjun’s gaze drifted to the bathroom door, where Kai’s soft humming floated through, filling the space. “As I Sade, if I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t have come.”

And for the first time in ages, he felt exactly where he was meant to be.

The bathroom door clicked open, sharp as a blade cutting through the fog in his mind. Kai stepped out, his usual confidence radiating, now wrapped in black leather and chains. He’d cleaned up, yes, but softened? Not a bit. His presence burned with danger and allure. His skin still held the heat of moments ago, but his face was composed. His outfit… a sleeveless top, black mesh beneath thin leather straps, tight enough to hint at the lines of his chest and arms under the right light. Buckles ran diagonally across his shoulder, like he’d just left a rock concert or a brawl. His pants sat low, adorned with accessories that screamed intention… A small cross dangled from one boot, swaying with each step. A thin silver chain hung from his neck, and his eyes… lined with a sharp streak of kohl, looked even fiercer.

“Feeling better?” Soobin called from the sink, lazily drying his neck with the towel.

Kai shot him a glare, flipping him off halfheartedly. “Doubt anyone wants to see me like that. Drenched in… your spit and sin.”

“You’re being ungrateful…” Soobin growled, tossing the towel aside. “I was being generous.”

Yeonjun tried to stifle his amusement, but a short, silent laugh slipped out… more a breath than a sound. The warmth in his chest was still there, but it had shifted… less anxious, more familiar, a quiet God, I missed this.

Kai turned to him, smiling with his eyes. “Glad you’re still here,Jun Almost expected you to bolt like a scared rabbit when we were… distracted.”

“You were already distracted,” Yeonjun replied dryly, arms crossed like a shield. “I just walked in at the peak of it. Too shocked to move.”

Kai grinned, drying his hands with a paper towel he flicked expertly into the trash. “You should’ve seen your face,” he teased. “Like a deer watching a car crash… but kinda wanting to be a part of it.”

Yeonjun groaned, dragging his hands over his face. “God, can we not?”

“Why not?” Soobin cut in, that sharp smirk returning. “Seemed like you were enjoying it a bit too much.”

Yeonjun felt a thread snap in his chest. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“For someone who just stood there watching like it was a live show, you’re talking big,” Soobin shot back.

Kai flopped onto the chair beside Yeonjun, stretching his legs out. “Soobin’s not entirely wrong, you know,” he said, tone guiding. “You were… attentive.”

Yeonjun didn’t look at him, but his ears flushed pink. “I was trying to figure out what was happening,” he muttered. “That’s different.”

Kai’s smile widened, clearly unconvinced. “Sure,” he drawled. “Totally different. You were studying us like it was a science class.”

Yeonjun felt like he’d melt from the heat and embarrassment. “I hate both of you.”

Kai laughed, nudging Yeonjun’s thigh with his knee… gentle, familiar. “But you missed us. Don’t lie, or I’ll sic Soobin on you for another interrogation.”

The wedding night - the crickets, the soft glow of lanterns, that moment in the garden - it all surged back, vivid. Soobin’s gaze settled on him briefly before he sprawled back on the couch, now dressed… barely. His dark burgundy shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, was thin enough to say too much… Its tightness made Yeonjun’s throat dry. His wrists were cuffed with leather and metal, fingers heavy with oversized rings. Soobin’s love for accessories hadn’t faded since childhood.

He was a vision from a dream Yeonjun shouldn’t have, beautiful, deadly.

Soobin smiled, locking eyes with him. “Don’t mention it.”

Yeonjun blinked, confused. “Don’t mention what?”

“The show we put on for you..” Soobin said, spreading his arms as if awaiting applause. “You think we do that for just anyone who walks in? That was for you, Yeonjun.”

“You’re impossible.”

“But charming. And you love it.”

Yeonjun froze, then pulled out his phone, checking the time just to hold something, to keep from unraveling under their voices. He didn’t dare look at them too long.. not when those sounds still echoed in his mind, not when Kai’s hands around Soobin’s neck burned like purgatory in his memory.

A hand settled on his thigh… purposeful, warm. “Now that we’ve sufficiently rattled our favorite lawyer—” Kai began.

“I’m not rattled,” Yeonjun cut in.

“—we can move on to the rest of the chaos,” Kai continued, as if Yeonjun hadn’t spoken, oblivious to what his touch and voice were doing.

Yeonjun raised an eyebrow, trying to distract himself from the heat of Kai’s hand on his thigh, even through his jeans. “Actually, I was going to ask where Taehyung and Beomgyu are. Not caught up in your pre-show chaos yet, I assume?”

Kai’s grin widened. His fingers traced slow circles, soothing yet tempting, like electricity through denim. “Oh, they were here. But we kicked them out about ten minutes before you showed up. Said we needed some quiet.”

“Let me guess,” Yeonjun said dryly. “You cleared the room for your… artistic explorations?”

Kai nodded. “Think they got the hint when Soobin slammed the door in their faces and started ripping my clothes off.”

“Probably off venting somewhere,” Soobin added, not looking up from the ring he was twisting.

“Why does every conversation with you two end up about sex?” Yeonjun asked.

Kai shrugged. “Because it’s always relevant.”

“Not always,” Yeonjun muttered, resisting the urge to call them a pair of horny raccoons.

“Yeonjun,” Soobin said, voice lower. “We’re rockstars… Relevance is only a suggestion, not a rule.”

Yeonjun shook his head, exasperated and amused. There was no winning with them. “Is there a room in this building here that isn’t being used as an orgasm therapy session?”

Soobin raised an eyebrow. “Nope.”

Kai nodded, his grin devilish. “Definitely not.” His grip on Yeonjun’s thigh tightened, and Yeonjun swallowed hard.

Defeated, he whispered, “So everyone breathing this room’s air tonight has some pent-up sexual frustration.”

The words weren’t meant to carry such tension, but they landed heavily, echoing in the quiet.

Silence.

Brief, but suffocating.

Kai’s gaze flickered, the playfulness fading into something colder, more serious. His fingers loosened but stayed on Yeonjun’s thigh. Yeonjun blinked, meeting his eyes.

“What about you, Yeonjun?” Kai asked, direct, not mocking, just curious. “Are you pent-up, too?”

Yeonjun’s mouth went dry.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Soobin shift, propping an elbow on his knee, chin resting in his hand. His smirk was gone, replaced by something quieter, dissecting.

Kai was still watching, the warmth gone from his posture, replaced by something more complex. Not cruel… but not kind either.

Heat crept up Yeonjun’s neck again. His hands clenched on the couch, his heart slamming against his ribs. But he didn’t look away. “What if I am?”

The silence that followed was thick, tangible, fogging the air. “Then I’d want you to tell me something,” Kai said, his voice a whisper, almost a murmur. “Because you’re sitting here, face flushed, breathing like you ran to get here, eyes doing everything but staying still… Your body shakes every time I touch you.”

Soobin spoke up. “Looked like you wanted to join us a minute ago… but fear wouldn’t let you move.”

Yeonjun let out a soft, tense laugh… a sharp exhale. Under their gazes, he felt stripped bare, as if every feeling he’d buried for years was dancing for their attention. With trembling hands and heart, he met their eyes. “If I say yes,” he asked evenly, “what would you do?”

Another pause. The question hung like mist in a sealed room. His voice didn’t waver. Flames flickered within him, slow-burning, not destructive.

Behind him, Soobin shifted… the leather creaked under his weight. “You sure you want the answer to that?” he said, not teasing but warning, wrapped in his rough, maddening voice.

Kai leaned closer, his hand sliding higher, stopping just shy of Yeonjun’s waistband… not crossing the line, but close enough to say he could. “Depends,” he murmured, as if he’d always held the reins, Yeonjun and Soobin mere puppets. “Is this finally about you, or are you just going to sit there playing spectator, pretending you’re not falling apart inside?”

The words struck something deep. Yeonjun had always thought watching them was enough, but he’d been lying to himself, terrified of letting even a flicker of his feelings show, of losing what he’d built with them. He blinked, the room tilting slightly. They knew him better than he knew himself. “I’m done pretending,” he said softly.

Soobin’s voice broke, barely controlled. “Then stop acting like this you’re a guest.”

Kai held his gaze, something unreadable in his eyes… not hurt, but like a starved animal, something to be seen, not touched. Yeonjun shivered but smiled… soft, like the first time he’d seen Kai in the school courtyard, like a sunrise creeping over a mountain.

Yeonjun opened his mouth, but Kai raised a hand. “Not now,” he said gently. “Not tonight. You came. That’s enough. The rest can wait for other nights.”

“You’ve changed,” Soobin said.

Yeonjun looked at him, nodding. “So have you two.”

“Not enough,” Soobin muttered. “Still waiting for you to kiss one of us.”

Kai shot him a sharp glare, but Soobin just rolled his eyes.

Yeonjun leaned back against the couch, exhaling slowly. Not calm, but not lost. “This isn’t a game,” he said quietly.

“Never was,” Soobin replied.

That feeling again.. that undercurrent of grief amid the heat.

Kai leaned back beside him, his hand now resting on his own thigh, but his knee brushed Yeonjun’s. “We don’t want to scare you off with this…” he said.

“You already have,” Yeonjun said, lacing his fingers together. “More than once.”

“But you came back,” Soobin pointed out after a brief silence, a hidden promise in his words: You can always come back to us.

“There was nowhere else I belonged,” Yeonjun said, matching Soobin’s honesty.

The silence thickened again… not heavy with unspoken words, but with the weight of truth. As if all the unsaid things had finally found their place.

Kai cleared his throat, standing abruptly. “Gotta check the mics before soundcheck’s over.”

Soobin raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You’re terrible at lying, baby… You just don’t want us to see you blushing.”

Kai didn’t respond, just gave Yeonjun a loaded look before heading to the door, muttering, “One minute before I come back and ruin everything.” The door closed behind him.

Soobin turned fully to Yeonjun, wrestling with the urge to close the gap between them. His voice was calm, deliberate. “You don’t have to prove anything to us.”

“I’m not trying to.”

“Then what are you after, Yeonjun?”

Yeonjun thought for a moment, letting his gaze wander… the lines of the table, the cracks in the walls, the door Kai had left through. Then, back to Soobin. “I want to remember what it feels like to choose. Not because I have to, but because I want to.”

Soobin stared at him, then asked, softer, as if afraid the question might break him. “Do you want us?”

It wasn’t a simple question… never was. But this time, Yeonjun didn’t fear it. He let the warmth in his chest simmer, let it flow, not as pain but as a reminder. “I never stopped.” :)

And for the first time in years, Soobin smiled… a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes, flashing his dimples. He shook his head, not for Yeonjun, but as if soothing his own heart.