Work Text:
Yeonjun knows a breakup when he sees one. And ever since he announced his six-month move to Europe, Soobin has been acting hella suspicious.
He can already picture the tragic movie montage—his forehead pressed against a fogged-up bus window, raindrops blurring the city lights as a somber ballad plays in the background. Maybe even a slow pan to his reflection, because that’s the kind of heartbreak this was shaping up to be.
And yet, nothing about Soobin feels like someone preparing to say goodbye. He still looked at him the same way that made Yeonjun feel like the most special person in the world. Still said the things that melt his heart. Still prioritized him above everything else—like two weeks ago, when he sat through two hours of traffic just to see Yeonjun’s students perform the silly little choreography he’d put together at his dance academy. He’d even brought flowers, like it was his big night, and a snack because he knew Yeonjun stress-starves before performances. Even when he was not the one on stage.
But still. Something was off.
It’s not in the big gestures, but in the subtle shifts—like a barely noticeable crack in glass before it shatters. Soobin has been detaching, and Yeonjun feels it, even if he can’t quite name it.
Maybe it had to do with the announcement—the one that changed everything. The one where Yeonjun was chosen as his academy’s dance representative for an international competition, meaning months of relentless training and six months of living overseas. He knew accepting it meant pressing pause on future plans—moving in together, booking holiday trips, building their life side by side.
But Yeonjun hadn’t expected this.
Every time he tried to bring it up, Soobin got weird—fidgety, restless, like a man on trial. He dodged, deflected, practically sprinted from the conversation. And Yeonjun knew exactly what that meant.
There’s only one conclusion really, one inevitable outcome: He was getting dumped.
And even though he saw it coming, it hurt like hell. Because it came with a cruel, inescapable realization—one he first had years ago when they started dating: There was nothing particularly special or magical about Yeonjun. Soobin loving him was the best thing about him. And now, Soobin must’ve realized that too.
Getting that thrown in his face? Yeah, that would be devastating. Soul-crushing.
It didn't make sense. In his mind, they had always been Yeonjun and Soobin. Soobin and Yeonjun. Even their friends said it—they were meant to be. There was no other way around it.
So if Soobin thought he could just walk away, he was in for a shock. Because if there was one thing Yeonjun will never be, it’s the guy who got left behind.
It started off small.
Yeonjun woke up earlier than his usual alarm—earlier than Soobin’s too—to set up breakfast for both of them. He moved through the kitchen in a quiet daze, hands working on autopilot as he prepared Soobin’s favorite: light coffee with warmed almond milk, toast spread with jam and cream, and a side of neatly cut fruit.
He arranged everything with precision, pouring more than just time into it—pouring his heart into the details, the extra minutes of lost sleep.
And yet, when Soobin walked out, already dressed and rubbing the last traces of sleep from his eyes, he barely reacted. He simply leaned in to press a quick peck to Yeonjun’s cheek, picked up a piece of toast, and grabbed his bag.
“I’m running late for work, but thanks, hyung.” he told him as he closed the entry door behind him.
No ‘love,’ no ‘honey.’ Not even a proper kiss.
Yeonjun blinked. What are his lips for, then? Background decor?
Clearly, small gestures weren’t going to cut it. If Soobin wasn’t noticing the subtle things, then Yeonjun needed to go bigger.
With the free time the academy granted him before his intensive training kicked in, he shifted tactics. If Soobin wanted to get rid of him, Yeonjun would make it an impossible task. He will become indispensable.
He started by handling everything in Soobin’s apartment. Cleaning. Laundry. Restocking his fridge with actual food instead of the instant garbage Soobin and him keep buying because, most of the time, cooking was too much work.
And sure, they technically lived in separate apartments, but Yeonjun was over so often that he might as well have a key tattooed onto his hand. His birthday was the password to the door for fuck’s sake! He knew Soobin’s space better than Soobin himself—where everything was stored, which drawers stuck, which corners collected the most dust.
So reorganizing it all? Piece of cake.
He was in the middle of packing away Soobin’s winter clothes when the front door opened. Instinctively, he stopped what he was doing and peeked into the living room, waiting for the moment his boyfriend finally noticed his efforts.
But Soobin barely glanced up, eyes glued to his phone as he walked straight into the couch—one that Yeonjun had moved slightly earlier to sweep under.
Only then did he pause, blinking around in confusion before his gaze landed on Yeonjun, still standing by the bedroom doorway, watching silently.
“Oh! You—you’re still here, hyung?”
Yeonjun frowned. “Hi. Yeah, I stayed over… Hope you don’t mind?” His voice came out smaller than intended.
“No, not at all. It’s totally fine.” But his tone contradicted his words. There was a nervous edge to it, one that sharpened when he quickly typed something on his phone before shoving it into his back pocket.
Then, his eyes flickered to the clothes in Yeonjun’s hands, and his entire posture stiffened.
“Hyung,” Soobin said, sounding almost panicked. “What are you doing with those? Where did you get them?”
Yeonjun shifted, suddenly feeling like a kid caught snooping through places he shouldn’t. “I was just organizing your closet,” he lied smoothly, pretending to be casual. “It was a little messy, and I couldn’t find that one jacket I think I left last time, so I—”
“It’s here.” Soobin cut him off, already moving toward his dresser with an urgency that didn’t match the situation. He pulled open a drawer, retrieving the jacket in question. “I folded it after washing it last time. Now give me that—” He gestured to the clothes in Yeonjun’s arms. “And go wait on the couch.”
Yeonjun narrowed his eyes. Weird.
“You’re acting weird,” he said bluntly, watching as Soobin hurriedly shoved something else into the same drawer before shutting it a little too forcefully.
“What are you talking about? I’m acting fine.” He smoothed his hands down his jeans, as if that’ll erase the awkwardness in the air. Then, with a tilt of his head, he asked, “Did you do my laundry?”
Yeonjun hesitated before admitting, “Perhaps…” His cheeks warm, waiting—expecting—hoping for the praise he rightfully deserved.
Instead, Soobin smirked. “You really got bored waiting for me, huh?”
Yeonjun scowled. “Don’t change the subject!”
“I’m not. It’s all in your head. I promise, I’m as fine as ever.”
Yeonjun crossed his arms, unimpressed. “I don’t believe you.”
Soobin huffed a small laugh. “What can I do to make you believe me?”
Yeonjun pretended to think, tilting his chin up in mock contemplation. Then, as if the idea just came to him, he said, “A kiss.”
Soobin raised a brow. “A kiss?”
“A real kiss.”
Soobin watched him for a moment, expression unreadable. Then, suddenly, he stepped forward, closing the space between them.
“I can do that.”
And then he did.
Tender lips pressed against his, softly at first, a slow, teasing glide before deepening into something more insistent. Yeonjun melted instantly, arms looping around Soobin’s neck as he tipped his head back, parting his lips just enough to mimic Soobin’s movements.
For a moment, the world righted itself.
Nothing else mattered—the creeping doubts, the gnawing suspicions, the way his heart had been clenched in unease for weeks—none of it existed as long as Soobin’s hands held him just like that, thumbs pressing into his waist, fingers curling possessively against his back.
As long as Soobin let him kiss him breathless, let him lick into his mouth, tasting warmth, comfort, and home—
And then Soobin’s phone rang.
The sound shattered Yeonjun’s fantasy world like glass hitting pavement.
He groaned against Soobin’s lips, tugging lightly at his boyfriend’s hair in an attempt to anchor him back. The sharp inhale Soobin took in response told him it almost worked—almost.
“Leave it,” Yeonjun murmured, voice low, coaxing.
Soobin hesitated, body rigid with indecision, but then sighed. “I can’t. I was waiting on an important call.”
Yeonjun huffed. “Surely they can spare two minutes.”
“I’m not sure they’d be that understanding.”
There was something in his tone that Yeonjun didn’t like. Something cautious. Guarded.
Reluctantly, he let go, stepping back with an exaggerated eye roll. “Who even is calling you? The Queen of England?”
Soobin snorted, but the amusement didn’t quite reach his eyes. Instead, he muttered under his breath, just low enough that Yeonjun wasn’t supposed to hear—
“You have no idea…”
Yeonjun did hear.
And oh, that was suspicious as hell.
Still, he stayed quiet, watching as Soobin made his way toward the balcony, phone already pressed to his ear.
Under normal circumstances, Yeonjun would have ignored it. Would’ve respected his privacy like a good boyfriend. Would’ve buried his paranoia six feet under and distracted himself with whatever mindless thing he could find.
But Soobin had been acting off for weeks, and Yeonjun was at his limit.
So, despite knowing better—despite knowing he shouldn’t—he found himself quietly padding toward the balcony, careful to stay out of sight as he strained to catch fragments of the conversation.
“So next week works fine for me,” Soobin said, his voice lighter, more relaxed than it had been all evening. Yeonjun peeked around the corner, watching as his boyfriend grinned at whatever was being said on the other end. “You’re doing me a huge favor. I don’t even know how to repay you.”
A pause. Then, a chuckle. “No, really. I wouldn’t mind treating you to a meal after everything you’ve done for me this past month. Thank you so much.”
Yeonjun blinked.
Huge favor? Treating someone to a meal?
Logically, it had to be work-related. Maybe some big project had been finalized, or a favor Soobin had called in from a friend.
But logic wasn’t exactly Yeonjun’s strong suit when his emotions were involved.
Because why the secrecy? Why step outside for the call? Why lie about it being important if it was just a friend?
He needed to get a grip.
His own paranoia was turning him into someone he barely recognized. He was eavesdropping now? Planning when to question Soobin like some detective gathering evidence? What would be next—going through his phone?
For what? To find proof that Soobin was secretly leaving him for someone else?
The thought was so absurd, so hilarious, that Yeonjun almost laughed out loud.
Because Soobin? Cheating? That was the funniest thing he’d ever imagined. The man could barely lie without getting caught, let alone orchestrate a secret affair. If he had that in him, Yeonjun wouldn’t have fallen in love with him in the first place.
He needed to calm the hell down.
With a deep breath, he pivoted, heading toward the kitchen instead. He set a kettle on the stove, staring blankly as the flames flickered to life beneath it. He was going to make himself some tea, sit down, and force himself to stop spiraling.
He could do that.
A few minutes later, Soobin joined him, wordlessly slipping his arms around Yeonjun’s waist from behind, chin resting lightly on his shoulder.
And even though Yeonjun had just promised himself he wouldn’t push—
The temptation was too strong.
“Work?” he asked, keeping his voice neutral.
Soobin hesitated—just a fraction of a second—but Yeonjun caught it.
Then, he shook his head. “A friend just needed my help.”
Something inside Yeonjun froze.
Because that? That was a lie.
Soobin had just lied to his face. Smoothly. Effortlessly. Without a single tell.
He barely managed to keep his voice steady. “Are you okay?”
Soobin squeezed his waist. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Yeonjun forced out a laugh, light and casual. “No reason.”
But inside, his mind was racing.
Because this? This was real.
And he had no idea what he was supposed to do about it.
Rationally, the next step was to call in the big guns.
So, the moment Yeonjun stepped back into his apartment after spending the weekend at Soobin’s, he kicked off his shoes, tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter, and flopped onto his couch with a long sigh. His fingers hovered over his phone screen for a brief second before he typed out a simple, urgent SOS in the group chat.
He didn’t have to wait long.
The notifications popped up in rapid succession—one, two, three—until, soon enough, they were all online. A call was initiated.
“If you’re using the emergency code just to ask for clothing advice on your next date with Soobin, I swear to God, Choi Yeonjun…” Chaewon’s voice came through first, clipped and vaguely exasperated. “I literally left a work meeting early for this.”
“Chill out, Chae,” Changbin cut in lazily. “He wouldn’t do that.”
“Hi, everyone, and yeah, I know he considers fashion a life-or-death emergency, but I don’t think he’d actually use the SOS for it,” Dino added.
A sigh. “Sorry, I’m just stressed. I wasn’t exactly getting great news before I left—I’ll reel it in,” Chaewon muttered.
“Hey, it’s fine. Don’t worry,” Yunjin reassured her.
“Save your flirting for later and let the man who invoked the emergency code actually talk, please,” Wooyoung interrupted, ever impatient.
“Oh my God, yes,” Yunjin huffed. “Jun. Are you okay? What happened?”
Yeonjun swallowed hard, tapping his fingers against his knee. “I think…” He hesitated, glancing at the framed photo of him and Soobin on the coffee table. He flipped it down before continuing. “I think Soobin is cheating on me.”
Silence.
A solid two minutes of it.
“Sorry, I joined late. You think what?” San’s voice finally broke through.
Yeonjun ran a hand down his face. “Soobin. I think he’s cheating on me. Or at least thinking about it.”
“Nah. No way, bro” San dismissed instantly.
Yeonjun exhaled through his nose, standing up and pacing toward the kitchen.
“You mean Soobin?” Changbin cut in, incredulous. “Choi Soobin? Your boyfriend of four years? The same guy who literally rented an entire dance team back in junior year just to ask you to the end of the year dance—even though you guys were already together and he hates public displays of affection—because he knew you’d like it?”
“Yeah, no.” San scoffed. “There’s absolutely no way in hell.”
Yeonjun pulled open a cabinet, grabbed a bag of chips, and popped one into his mouth with more aggression than necessary. “I’m going crazy, aren’t I? It’s just… I literally can’t think of any other explanation. He’s been acting sketchy for weeks, and then today, he flat-out lied to my face about who he was on the phone with.”
A beat of silence. Then:
“Okay, that does sound kinda bad,” Serim admitted. “But still. I can’t see it.”
“Maybe he’s planning a surprise for you!” Yunjin suggested, ever the optimist. “When’s your anniversary?”
Yeonjun huffed, rolling his eyes and biting down on another chip as he dramatically plopped back down on the couch.
“Already passed.”
“Valentine’s Day?”
“It’s April.”
“Your birthday!”
Yeonjun stared at the ceiling. “Did you not hear me, or do you just not know my birthday? I said it’s literally April. My birthday is in September, dude.”
Yunjin coughed. “…Right. Moving on.”
Changbin sighed. “Okay, so no obvious events coming up. But still, Jun, you might be jumping to conclusions too quickly. You guys are so disgustingly in love, it’s like staring directly into the sun. No offense.”
“None taken.” Yeonjun exhaled, picking at a loose thread on his sweatpants. “It’s just… then why do I feel like he’s hiding something? He’s been so distant lately.”
“Maybe it’s personal,” Dino offered. “Something he’s not ready to talk about yet. Give him some time—he’ll come around. It’s Soobin, after all.”
Yeonjun swallowed hard. His gaze landed on the pile of laundry in the corner—Soobin’s sweatshirt still mixed in with his clothes. He looked away. His voice wavered slightly when he admitted, “I’m just scared he’s going to leave me.”
The line fell quiet again. Then—
“Oh, Junnie.” Yunjin’s voice softened. “Is this about the Europe thing?”
Yeonjun tensed. He stood up again, walking aimlessly toward the window. The city lights blurred slightly as he ran a hand through his hair. “Perhaps… Do you think that bothered him? That I accepted too quickly? That I didn’t take him into consideration?”
“No. Yeonjun. Oh my God,” Chaewon groaned. “That is a huge opportunity for you. I mean, being a choreographer is cool and all, but this could make your career. If Soobin even thought for one second that you should turn it down, then he’s crazy and should go fuck himself. Full offense.”
Yeonjun let out a breathy chuckle. “Slightly taken, but point made.”
“Have you guys even talked about it yet?” Wooyoung asked. “It’s been, what, two weeks since you got the offer?”
“I tried to,” Yeonjun grumbled. “But he keeps changing the subject. And when he sees I’m being stubborn, he—” Yeonjun coughed. “—distracts me in other ways.”
A chorus of groans erupted through the call.
“Ew. You are so not trying hard enough,” Dino griped.
“Gross.”
“Did not need that detail, thanks.”
Yeonjun rolled his eyes. “You guys asked—”
“He’s clearly still very into you, then,” Serim pointed out. “Look, I really don’t think he’s cheating, Jun. But if you’re feeling insecure about it, just confront him. Open communication is the best policy, especially in relationships. That way, he can clear up any misunderstanding and maybe even open up to you about whatever’s going on in his head too.”
Yeonjun sighed, rubbing his temples. “You might be right.”
“We usually are.”
He chuckled despite himself. “I was really running myself into the ground thinking about this.” He stretched his arms above his head, the tension finally easing from his shoulders. “Sorry to interrupt your meeting, Chae.”
“You’d do the same for me. Don’t worry,” she assured him. Then, with a teasing lilt, “Same time next week?”
“Hopefully not.”
“Yeah, hopefully by then, Soobin’s pampering Yeonjun in their little love nest, living their happily ever after.”
Yeonjun groaned. “Wooyoung, I hate you.”
“You love me.”
“I’m gonna go eat something and try to stop spiraling. Thanks for the pep talk, guys.”
“Anytime!”
“That’s what friends are for!”
“You know we love you.”
“We’d do almost anything for you, darling. Just a shame Beomgyu wasn’t here.”
“A relief, more like,” San muttered. “He would’ve beaten Yeonjun with a metal rod the second the words ‘Soobin is cheating’ left his mouth.”
Yeonjun sighed, defeated. “I really hate you all.”
“It’s not my fault you have bad, paranoiac ideas and share a best friend with your boyfriend! Imagine how livid Beomgyu would’ve been—”
“GOODBYE, WOOYOUNG!” Yeonjun accentuated before aggressively ending the call and tossing his phone onto the couch.
He had self-care to attend to.
Ironically, his first step into self-care was doing something that most people would consider a torturous punishment.
Calling his mother-in-law.
Yeonjun sighed, pacing back into his bedroom as he scrolled through his contacts. Most people dreaded talking to their partner’s parents, but he had gotten incredibly lucky with Soobin’s. They were one of the good ones—kind, supportive, and never once making him feel like an outsider. He had been bracing himself for some level of resistance when he and Soobin first started dating, but instead, their acceptance had hit him like whiplash.
And over time, he had gotten used to it. He could even go as far as to say he was friends with them.
But his favorite thing? Sharing one of his most beloved pastimes with his mother-in-law: gossiping. Specifically, gushing about Soobin.
And right now? Right now was the perfect time to indulge. Because if there was one person on Earth who could remind him just how hopelessly in love Soobin was with him, it was the woman who had raised him.
As he set his phone on speaker and placed it on the bathroom counter, he busied himself with filling the tub, pouring in some of Soobin’s lavender-scented bath salts—because even if Soobin was secretly planning to break his heart, Yeonjun was still going to steal his good self-care products he left over at his apartment.
Finally, the dial tone cut off, and a warm, familiar voice filled the space.
“Oh! Yeonjun-ah,” his mother-in-law greeted, her tone delighted. “It’s been so long since you’ve called. How have you been?”
Yeonjun leaned against the sink, rubbing his temple as a small, genuine smile tugged at his lips. “Hi, sieomeon. I’m fine, thank you. Sorry, these last few weeks have been crazy, and I couldn’t find the time. How have you and siabeoji been doing?”
“Ah, I’m so glad to hear from you, Yeonjun-ah. We’re doing well, we’re doing well. Have you started packing for Europe yet? Our Soobinnie told us all about it—we’re so proud of you. You know you’re like a second son to us, right?”
Yeonjun’s throat tightened slightly, warmth settling in his chest at the sincerity in her voice. “Thank you so much, sieomeon. It means a lot to hear you say that.”
He picked up the phone again, walking over to the tub and dipping a hand in to test the water temperature. Perfect. Still, he hesitated to get in. His mind wasn’t exactly in relaxation mode yet.
“I have started packing a little,” he continued, absentmindedly swirling the water with his fingers. “I just… I guess I’ve been feeling a little off about everything.”
“Off?” she echoed, concern creeping into her voice.
Yeonjun sighed, straightening up and walking back to sit on the edge of his bed. His free hand toyed with a loose thread in the blanket. “It’s about Soobin.”
There was a small pause before she chuckled. “Ah, our Soobinnie. What did he do this time?”
Yeonjun huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t know if I’m just overthinking, but… we haven't talked about me going away yet and he’s been acting really distant lately. Like he’s hiding something from me. And today, he straight-up lied when there was no need to. It’s making me feel… uneasy.”
“Hmm.”
Yeonjun could practically hear the way she tilted her head in thought.
“I’ll be honest, dear,” she finally said, “Soobin is many things, but a liar? Not one of them. If he’s hiding something, it’s probably because he doesn’t know how to talk about it yet.”
Yeonjun bit his lip. “You really don’t think there’s a chance that he’s mad at me?”
“Absolutely not.” Her voice was firm. “That boy has been in love with you since the moment he met you. Do you have any idea how many times he used to call us just to talk about you?”
Yeonjun blinked. “…He did?”
A delighted laugh rang through the speaker. “Oh, Yeonjun-ah, you have no idea. I swear, for a whole year, all I ever heard was ‘Yeonjun this’ and ‘Yeonjun that.’ He called me when you first asked him out just to panic about whether or not a receiving a kiss in response was the same as saying 'yes' or if he had to clarify further.”
Yeonjun felt his ears burn. He flopped back onto the mattress, staring at the ceiling. “You’re joking.”
“I’d never joke about something this adorable.”
Despite everything, despite his own doubts and insecurities gnawing at him, Yeonjun smiled.
“…Then why does it feel like something’s wrong?”
“Because something might be wrong, darling. Just probably not in the way you think. My guess? He’s working through something on his own. And knowing my son, he’s probably being stubborn about it.”
Yeonjun exhaled slowly, nodding to himself. “That does sound like him.”
“Exactly. Now, if I were you, I’d confront him about it before you let your imagination run wild. You’re both too in love to be dancing around each other like this.”
Yeonjun let out a soft laugh, sitting up again. His mother-in-law always had a way of grounding him.
“…Thanks, sieomeon. I needed to hear that.”
“Of course, sweetheart. You know I’m always here for you.”
He chewed on his bottom lip, hesitating before asking, “Is he with you guys right now?”
“No, he stopped by a couple of days ago to say hi and pick up something, but I haven’t seen him today. Why?”
Something wasn’t adding up once more.
Yeonjun frowned slightly. “Just wondering where he is. He was supposed to come over at eight.”
He glanced toward the clock. It was getting late. If Soobin wasn’t with his parents, then where was he?
As if sensing his unease, his mother-in-law’s voice softened. “Talk to him, Yeonjun-ah. And in the meantime? Try not to let your mind get too ahead of itself. You know he loves you.”
Yeonjun inhaled deeply. “…I know.”
“Good. Now go enjoy your bath, dear. You deserve to relax a little.”
Yeonjun smiled, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. Love you, sieomeon.”
“Love you too, sweetheart. Be gentle with your own heart, Yeonjun-ah, and take care.”
As the call ended, Yeonjun placed his phone on the counter, exhaling slowly.
His heart felt lighter, but his mind? Still racing.
There was only one way to get the answers he needed.
It was time to talk to Soobin.
Finding the nerve to go up to Soobin and actually talk about whatever was going on was proving to be one of the hardest things Yeonjun had ever done.
He knew—rationally—that openness and communication were the cornerstones of a healthy relationship. He had heard it a million times before, repeated like some sacred mantra. And yet, he had always struggled with it. He liked to believe in the magic of silent understanding, of knowing each other so deeply that words weren’t needed. A look, a touch, a shared breath—shouldn’t that be enough?
Except, apparently, it wasn’t.
So when Soobin had casually mentioned saving a date in his calendar for later in the week—suggesting they go out to eat or do something—Yeonjun made a snap decision.
That would be the moment. That would be when he confronted him. Before he chickened out and let his overactive imagination drive him to an early grave.
But then the overthinking started.
Why was Soobin the one planning something so specifically? He never did that. He was the kind of person who simply went with the flow, other than the eventual burst of spontaneity that ended with Yeonjun getting dragged on sudden two-hour drives to a different city on a Thursday night just because someone made an offhand comment about him being too predictable. It was his thing—his little way of keeping people on their toes, of proving he wasn’t as steady and safe as they all thought.
Soobin was normally calm and obliviously unprepared for most things in life involving going outside of his comfort zone.
So why was he suddenly structured about this? Almost organized.
That alone should’ve been thrown onto the ever-growing pile of *suspicious shit* Soobin had been doing all week.
Like coming home late.
Taking mysterious phone calls.
Shutting his left wardrobe drawer every time Yeonjun even looked in its direction.
It was all so weird. And Yeonjun was worried. What if Soobin was slowly cutting him off? What if he was distancing himself on purpose?
When three whole days passed without so much as a text, Yeonjun found himself hoping—praying almost—that Soobin had just dropped dead somewhere because that would hurt less than knowing he simply didn’t want to invest his time in him anymore.
Yeonjun had always had a flair for the dramatic but suddenly, the paranoia became too real.
Soobin was going to break up with him.
That date marked down on the calendar? It wasn’t a date. It was an execution notice.
Yeonjun felt like a ghost drifting through the hours leading up to it. He barely had the energy to pull on a passable outfit, opting for whatever felt the most neutral, the most forgettable. If Soobin was going to leave him, the least he could do was not make it a spectacle.
But when the doorbell rang, it wasn’t Soobin standing on the other side.
It was Taehyun.
“Tyun?” Yeonjun blinked in surprise, stomach dropping. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay? Is Soobin okay?”
Taehyun barely reacted to the panicked onslaught of questions, simply stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. “Hi, hyung. Everything’s fine. Soobin’s just running a little late, so since I was in the neighborhood, he asked me to pick you up.”
Yeonjun blinked. “Oh. That’s… thoughtful of him, I guess.”
“Sure. Now go get dressed so we can leave.”
Yeonjun frowned, glancing down at himself. “What do you mean? I am ready. Let’s go.”
Taehyun gave him a once-over. A slow, dragging once-over.
“You are so not going like that, hyung.”
“What?” Yeonjun looked down at his outfit. Dark jeans, a black sweater. Simple. Fine. “What’s wrong with this?”
“Are you okay?” Taehyun deadpanned. “You look like you dressed for your own funeral.”
Yeonjun’s mood immediately soured. “Well, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“My funeral.” Yeonjun crossed his arms, voice laced with heavy sarcasm. “Cut the crap, Taehyun. I know what Soobin’s been planning. He is not subtle.”
Taehyun’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes twitched—just slightly.
“You… know?”
“Yeah.” Yeonjun nodded, exhaling sharply. “He’s going to break up with me, isn’t he?”
For a solid minute, Taehyun just blinked at him.
Why did everyone react like that every time he said it out loud?
Eventually, Taehyun let out a sigh, shaking his head. “Okay. Let’s go over all of this in your room while you get changed. We don’t have time for this, you'll thank me later, trust me.”
Yeonjun grumbled, trailing behind him. “Just because I’m depressed over my soon-to-be death doesn’t mean I’m immune to your insults, you know. Am I really dressed that badly? Is that why Soobin’s breaking up with me? Have I lost my fashion touch? Because that, I can fix.”
He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Okay, so maybe he had been slacking a little in the ‘effort’ department, but he’d had bigger things on his mind, alright? Like the impending collapse of his relationship, which no one else seem to care enough about, in his opinion.
Taehyun ignored his rambling and immediately started digging through his closet. “While you pour your soul out to me, take off that top. We’re ditching the all-black misery look.”
Yeonjun rolled his eyes but obeyed. “A white sweater? Beige dress pants? Where are you taking me, Sunday school?”
“Shut up and put them on.” Taehyun shoved the clothes into his arms.
Yeonjun grumbled but complied, tugging the sweater over his head. “Yeah, I mean, I’m getting dumped, but I’ll look good crying my eyes out in light colors. That makes me feel so much better, woohoo.”
Taehyun didn’t respond. He just rolled his eyes before tilting his head. “You haven't done your makeup, haven't you?”
Yeonjun sighed dramatically. “Not even gonna lie to me and say I look good without makeup, huh?”
“Tch.” Taehyun gestured toward the vanity chair. “Come sit. I’ll do your concealer and eyes. You can add blush and lip gloss to *your* taste.”
Yeonjun mumbled a quiet 'thanks' as he sat down.
For a moment, there was silence.
But as if sensing the growing tension in Yeonjun’s shoulders, Taehyun abruptly paused, locking eyes with him in the mirror.
“Hey.” His voice was steady. “You’re being dumb. Soobin is not breaking up with you.”
Yeonjun’s lips parted, but Taehyun didn’t give him the chance to argue.
“Okay. Fine.” He rolled his eyes. “If it were going to happen—which it’s not—what would you do?”
Yeonjun felt his throat tighten. “I… I don’t know.”
“Exactly. You both would be lost without each other.” Taehyun dabbed at his face with concealer, unfazed. “Soobin would never do that. But if he did, you should focus on everything you had together. Appreciate it, instead of spiraling like this.”
“But I don’t want him to break up with me,” Yeonjun whispered.
“And he won’t,” Taehyun said simply. “But you should also learn to be strong on your own. Stand your ground.”
Yeonjun broke eye contact.
Taehyun exhaled. “You would never hate him, right?”
Yeonjun hesitated. “Only if he wants me to.”
Taehyun rolled his eyes again, shoving a tube of lip gloss into his hands.
“So pack up your drama—this selfish dilemma is something this shit can’t undo.”
Yeonjun sighed, rubbing at his temples before swiping on the lip gloss Taehyun had shoved at him. The soft pink shimmered under the bedroom light, and he frowned at his reflection.
He did look good.
Which only made him feel worse.
He was dressing up to get his heart shattered. Like some tragic drama lead walking to his doom in painfully perfect lighting.
“Alright, let’s go,” Taehyun said, zipping up his jacket. “We don’t want to keep Soobin waiting.”
Yeonjun swallowed hard, forcing himself to nod.
The drive to their date—or whatever this hellish meeting actually was—was painfully silent. Yeonjun barely heard the music playing through Taehyun’s speakers, too caught up in the deafening spiral of his own thoughts.
He should’ve asked where they were going. Should’ve checked the location on his phone. But maybe part of him didn’t want to know.
Maybe if he didn’t know, it wasn’t real.
That was a lie, though. His gut was twisting.
Soobin had been so weird these past few days. So secretive. What else could this be but the end?
“You’re making that face again,” Taehyun muttered, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.
Yeonjun forced his expression blank. “What face?”
“The one where you look like you’re mentally drafting your ‘I Will Always Love You’ performance.”
Yeonjun scoffed, crossing his arms. “I’m not—”
“Hyung.”
Yeonjun huffed, sinking lower into his seat. “Fine. Maybe a little.”
Taehyun shook his head but didn’t say anything else.
A few minutes later, they pulled up in front of a familiar restaurant. A nice one. The kind of place you wouldn’t go to if you were about to drop devastating news.
Yeonjun didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse.
Then he spotted Soobin standing outside, rocking on the balls of his feet, hands stuffed into his coat pockets.
Yeonjun’s stomach lurched.
This was it. This was it.
As soon as he stepped out of the car, Soobin’s face lit up in a way that shouldn’t belong to someone about to end things.
But maybe that was part of it. Maybe he was trying to let him down gently.
“Soobin,” he breathed.
“Hey.” Soobin beamed at him, stepping forward. “Wow, you look—” He cut himself off, shaking his head with a laugh. “You look amazing, Jun.”
Yeonjun stared at him like he’d grown two heads. He had thrown this outfit on in less than ten minutes, how could he ever look 'amazing'? He must be lying to sweeten him up before dropping him completely.
“Okay, I’ll leave you two to it,” Taehyun muttered. Then, under his breath, just loud enough for Yeonjun to hear, “Try not to be stupid.”
And with that, he was gone.
Leaving Yeonjun to stand there, staring at his probably soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend, his entire world unraveling at the seams.
Have you ever wanted to cry, but no tears came out? So instead, you just sit there, staring blankly into space, feeling your heart splinter into a thousand jagged pieces?
That was exactly how Yeonjun felt during the first five minutes of their dinner.
His eyes were fixed on Soobin, but it was like looking through him—like he was nothing more than a blur of motion, a voice muffled by the thick fog of Yeonjun’s own spiraling thoughts.
Soobin’s words floated around him, meaningless background noise. He caught fragments—something about work, a meal he had the other day, running into an old friend—but none of it stuck. None of it mattered.
It wasn’t until Soobin asked, “When are you going back to your dance academy?” that Yeonjun snapped out of it, his focus slamming back into the present like a car skidding on ice.
But it was already too late. Soobin’s sharp eyes were locked onto him, concern creasing his brows.
“Are you okay?” His voice was softer now, careful. “I know we haven’t seen each other much these last few days, and I’m sorry I’m rambling. I’m not boring you, am I?”
“Never.” Yeonjun’s response was instant, almost desperate. He straightened in his seat, shaking his head fervently. “You could talk about watching paint dry or the slow digestion of cows, and I’d still eat up every single word. You could never bore me, Soobin.”
Soobin blinked, clearly caught off guard, his cheeks dusted with a faint pink hue. “Oh—uh—thank you. I’m glad to hear that.” He let out a small, flustered laugh before tilting his head. “But… what prompted such a deep answer?”
Yeonjun’s fingers curled around his napkin under the table, twisting the fabric as he forced a light chuckle. Shit. Had he been too much? Too obvious?
“Can’t a boyfriend just appreciate and vocalize his never-ending love for his other half?” He flashed a grin, hoping it looked playful instead of strained.
Soobin studied him for a long second, his lips pressing together as if he was debating whether or not to push. Then, finally, he hummed in response, his eyes flicking down to the menu in his hands.
“Do you know what you want to order?” he asked casually. “I looked this place up before coming, and apparently, their pho is really good.”
Yeonjun exhaled, grateful for the shift. “Whatever you want, love. I’m down.”
Soobin’s eyebrow arched. He didn’t say anything, but Yeonjun could feel the scrutiny in his gaze.
Fuck. He knows I’m on edge.
Yeonjun busied himself with taking a sip of water, pretending the glass was the most interesting thing in the world.
He just had to hold it together a little longer. Just until Soobin broke his heart.
A few moments later, their orders were placed, and the server disappeared, leaving them once again in their own little world.
The restaurant Soobin had chosen was on the high end of luxurious—chic and elegant, yet discreet. It wasn’t the kind of place that screamed for attention but rather exuded quiet sophistication. The soft glow of candlelight flickered against the dark wood tables, and the gentle hum of live jazz music settled into the air like a comforting embrace. It was warm, cozy, the kind of ambiance that encouraged hushed conversations and stolen glances.
It should have been the perfect setting for a romantic evening.
Instead, Yeonjun’s stomach twisted into tighter and tighter knots.
Trying to break the unbearable tension in his own mind, he attempted to keep the conversation flowing. The best defense is a good offense.
“How did you find this place? I hadn’t heard of it before.” His voice was casual, good.
He expected Soobin to answer easily, maybe even launch into some detailed explanation about a food blog recommendation or a hidden-gem discovery.
But instead, Soobin froze for a split second, his expression faltering like a deer caught in headlights.
“You don’t like it?” he asked, almost too quickly.
“No, on the contrary, I’m really loving it.” Yeonjun forced a small smile. “I was just wondering. You’ve been here before?”
“Uh, yeah. Once. Maybe twice.”
“Oh?” Yeonjun tilted his head. “How come you never mentioned it?”
Soobin glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck. “It wasn’t that long ago. Must’ve slipped my mind.”
“Did you come here with work friends?”
“Not exactly, no.”
That answer made Yeonjun pause.
His fingers tightened ever so slightly around his water glass.
Then, it hit him.
Soobin must have brought his special friend here. The one he’d been on the phone with a couple of weeks ago. The one he never let Yeonjun know about.
A slow, uneasy feeling crept down his spine.
“Who did you bring here, then?”
He held his breath.
Waited for a beat.
Then two.
“No one.”
Soobin’s voice was calm—too calm. But his body told a different story.
Avoiding eye contact. Adjusting the collar of his shirt. Taking a small sip of water as if trying to buy himself time.
Yeonjun’s heart pounded in his ears.
He wanted to press. He wanted to ask.
Then—
The server arrived with their food.
The plates were set down before them with practiced grace, the rich aroma of steaming broth and fresh herbs wafting into the air. Under different circumstances, Yeonjun might have hummed in appreciation, eager to dig into a warm meal. But right now, his appetite was nonexistent.
Soobin, on the other hand, took the opportunity to compose himself, reaching for his chopsticks as if nothing had happened.
“Looks good, right?” he said, forcing a small smile. “I heard their pho is one of the best in the city.”
Yeonjun barely nodded, eyes still trained on him.
He wanted to let it go. He really did. It would be so easy to push down the unease gnawing at his stomach, to pretend everything was fine, to smile and play along like he hadn’t just caught Soobin lying to his face.
But he couldn’t.
Because this wasn’t just about the restaurant. This was about the phone calls. The late nights. The secrets.
It was about the fact that Yeonjun felt like he was slowly being pushed out of Soobin’s life, and the person doing it was the one who once promised to always let him in.
He picked up his own chopsticks, but his hand barely made it to his bowl before he spoke again.
“Soobin.”
His boyfriend looked up mid-bite, cheeks puffed slightly from the noodles in his mouth. He blinked.
Yeonjun took a deep breath. “Who did you bring here?”
Soobin chewed slowly, carefully. Swallowed.
“I told you,” he said, voice even. “No one.”
Yeonjun clenched his jaw.
The thing about Soobin was that he was good at keeping his composure. He had always been the calm, collected one—the steady hands to Yeonjun’s sometimes unpredictable fire. But Yeonjun also knew him too well.
The tiny shift in his tone. The slight way his eyes darted down to his bowl. The way his fingers gripped his chopsticks just a little tighter than before.
He was hiding something.
And Yeonjun felt his patience wearing thin.
“Do you not trust me?” His voice was softer now, but no less intense.
Soobin’s head snapped up, eyes widening slightly. “What?”
“I’m asking if you trust me,” Yeonjun repeated, this time slower, more measured. “Because I’ve trusted you with everything, Soobin. But lately, I feel like you don’t trust me enough to let me in.”
Soobin’s lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.
For a moment, the only sound between them was the quiet hum of jazz music and the distant chatter of other diners.
Then, finally—
“…It’s not what you think,” Soobin said, almost a whisper.
Yeonjun exhaled sharply, his heart pounding in his chest. “Then tell me what it is.”
Soobin hesitated.
Then, he set down his chopsticks.
“Yeonjun,” Soobin started, voice thick with emotion, eyes locked onto his with a sincerity so raw it made Yeonjun’s throat tighten. “You're a very special person to me. You've always been, since the very first time I saw you across the university campus, stepping out of your nine a.m. urban dance class—your best friend practically hanging off your shoulder, laughing like you had just told the best joke in the world.”
Yeonjun blinked, the memory flickering in his mind like an old film reel. He could almost feel the warmth of that morning sun on his skin, the buzz of youthful energy, the way Soobin had always watched him from afar before fate had pulled them together.
“I knew from that moment,” Soobin continued, voice steady but thick with meaning, “that no matter how close we ever got, you were meant to leave an impact on my life—one way or another.”
Yeonjun barely dared to breathe.
Soobin exhaled, a soft, wry chuckle escaping his lips. “Then, a mutual friend introduced us at one of his hangouts, and as if I had been reading the future in tarot cards, we got closer so quickly that I almost couldn’t keep up. You’ve always been so free-spirited, so full of life—whimsical, like a butterfly flitting from flower to flower, tasting everything the world has to offer. And in the beginning, I was just happy to be near you, even when I thought I was just another flower in the bunch.”
Yeonjun’s chest ached at the tenderness in Soobin’s words.
“You’ve always had so much love to give,” Soobin murmured, “and so much love to ask for in return. And I used to think I could never hold enough of it to be worthy of you.”
A sharp inhale. Yeonjun pressed a trembling hand over his lips, willing himself not to cry.
“When you asked me out,” Soobin said, laughing softly, shaking his head as if he still couldn’t believe it, “I thought I was hallucinating. I genuinely thought I had lost my mind. But when I asked you to pinch me, to check if I was dreaming, you just smiled and did something even better.”
He looked up, and Yeonjun could see the shimmer of unshed tears in his dark eyes.
“You kissed me.”
A tear slipped down Yeonjun’s cheek. He barely even noticed.
Soobin’s lips quirked into the softest, fondest smile. “And now, here we are. Four years down the line, and our paths seem to finally want to branch off again.”
Yeonjun’s stomach twisted. He knew where this was going. The inevitable. The moment he had feared all along.
“I’ve always known you were bigger than the world itself," Soobin said, voice almost reverent. "So when you called me crying out of excitement about getting that competition you worked your ass off for, I just knew. I knew—even if it meant seeing us part ways—that I could never ask you to give up your dreams. Because I know your first love has always been, and will always be, dancing. And to ask you to sacrifice that for just some guy like me? That would be unthinkable. Crazy. I would have to be absolutely demented. So I made peace with the fact that our relationship had an expiration date.”
Yeonjun squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to protest. Wanted to scream that no, he would never—could never—choose dance over Soobin. That this wasn’t how it had to end.
“But,” Soobin said, a breathless chuckle leaving his lips as he shook his head, “I guess I really, really underestimated the depth of my feelings for you. Because now that I’ve had you for myself, the only thing even more deranged than asking you to stay behind… is letting you go.”
Yeonjun gasped. His hands flew to his mouth, his whole body trembling.
“So I sat down to think,” Soobin went on, unwavering, eyes never leaving his. “I thought long and hard. I visited my parents. Asked for advice from our friends. I even called your mother to ask for her blessing.”
Yeonjun let out a choked noise.
“And no matter how much I turned it over in my head,” Soobin whispered, “I always arrived at the same conclusion. The same inevitable question—the one I knew I would regret for the rest of my life if I never got the chance to ask.”
Soobin took a shaky breath, steadying himself as he stood up, pushing the chair he was on and dropping to one knee. The soft glow of fairy lights around them painted his face in golden hues, but his hands trembled slightly as he reached into his pocket. Yeonjun’s breath hitched, his heart hammering so violently he swore it might burst out of his chest.
He swallowed thickly, his hands steady now as he pulled out the small velvet box from his pocket, flipping it open with deliberate care. Inside, a simple yet stunning silver band glinted under the soft lighting.
“Because I would do absolutely everything for you, even moving to the other side of the world if it meant I could follow you." Soobin took a deep breath. “I know we’re young—barely past our mid-twenties—but I’m already certain that you are the best thing that will ever happen to me. And I would be a complete fool to let you go without at least trying.”
Yeonjun’s entire body shook. His vision blurred. He was vaguely aware of the way the world had gone quiet, of the way his breath came in short, gasping sobs, of the way his chest ached with too much love, too much everything.
Soobin’s lips curled into a soft, almost nervous smile. His voice was barely above a whisper.
“So, Choi Yeonjun, love of my life… would you continue making me the luckiest man in the world and marry me?”
For a heartbeat, Yeonjun could do nothing but stare, lips parted, breath shallow. Then—
A broken sob tore from Yeonjun’s lips as he threw himself forward, tackling Soobin to the ground in a blur of warmth and sheer desperation. The chair scraped against the floor, the table shook, but he didn’t care—not when he was clinging to Soobin like he was the very air in his lungs.
“Yes,” he gasped against Soobin’s shoulder, voice trembling with laughter and relief. “Yes. Yes. A million times, yes.”
Soobin let out a breathless laugh, his arms tightening around Yeonjun’s waist, anchoring them together as if letting go wasn’t an option. Relief crashed over him like an unstoppable tide, knocking the breath from his lungs.
When Yeonjun finally pulled back—eyes shimmering with unshed tears, cheeks flushed with exhilaration—he found himself staring at the exact same expression mirrored in Soobin’s face.
“Oh my god,” Yeonjun sniffled, letting out a watery chuckle. “We’re really a couple of crybabies, huh?”
Soobin exhaled a shaky laugh, his hands coming up to cradle Yeonjun’s face. “I don’t care. I love you too much to care about anything else right now.”
“Corny,” Yeonjun teased, though his fingers were already lifting to brush away the tear streaking down Soobin’s cheek.
“The corniest—for my fiancé.”
Soobin’s voice softened with reverence as he reached for Yeonjun’s hand, carefully slipping the ring onto his finger. The cool metal felt foreign against his skin, but at the same time, it fit so perfectly, like it had always belonged there. Yeonjun stared at it, his lips parting as an overwhelming warmth flooded his chest.
He was Soobin’s. And Soobin was his. Officially.
“I’m still in so much shock, god,” Yeonjun whispered, his voice barely audible over the rush of emotions in his head. “I thought—Never mind.”
“No, what?” Soobin tilted his head, studying him. “You’re my soon-to-be husband, so you have to tell me now. No secrets between spouses.”
Yeonjun hesitated, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the ring as he bit his lip. “It’s just… in retrospect, it’s really fucking embarrassing. I should’ve listened to our friends—they always said we were meant to be.”
“Always,” Soobin agreed. And then, he kissed him.
Soft, slow, grounding.
When they pulled apart, they settled back into their seats, Yeonjun’s eyes still flitting down to his ring every few seconds. He was mesmerized by the way it caught the light.
“Hey, eyes up here,” Soobin scolded playfully. “Now tell me—what were you thinking?”
Yeonjun let out a long sigh, pressing a hand over his face.
“Ithoughtyouweregonnabreakupwithme,” he mumbled, voice muffled by his palm.
Soobin’s eyes widened. “You thought what!?”
Yeonjun groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “I can explain.”
“How?”
“You lied to me the other day about who you were on the phone with!”
Soobin blinked. Then, realization dawned on his face. “You mean when Chaemin called? He was confirming our reservation here. The place is really exclusive, but he pulled some strings through a friend to get us in tonight.”
Yeonjun’s mouth opened, then closed. “...Oh.”
“And,” Soobin continued, crossing his arms, “you thought I was acting shady because I was sneaking around after work?”
“Yes! You were going weird places, hiding stuff in your room—”
Soobin let out an amused huff. “You mean going to look for engagement rings and then trying to hide the surprise for you?”
Yeonjun groaned again, letting his head fall against the table. “I know that now!”
Soobin snorted.
“You absolute idiot,” he said, but his voice was so full of love that Yeonjun almost melted on the spot. Then, Soobin softened, reaching for his hand again. “How could you ever think I’d break up with you? You do know I love you, right? And not just now. Not just for today or tomorrow. I’m pretty sure I’ll love you for the rest of my life.”
He gestured to the ring on Yeonjun’s finger.
Yeonjun swallowed, emotions thick in his throat. “And I love you. But I was a complete and absolute mess when the thought entered my mind, and once it did, I couldn’t get rid of it. I came here ready to cry and apologize for everything I could’ve done wrong—I was not above begging. Believe me.”
Soobin’s lips parted slightly.
“It’s just,” Yeonjun whispered, voice shaking slightly, “the thought of losing you? For a second, dying sounded like a more viable option.”
Soobin’s breath caught. Then, he flicked Yeonjun’s forehead.
“Don’t even joke about that, lad.”
Yeonjun winced, rubbing his forehead. “Sorry. And don’t call your fiancé ‘lad.’”
“I’ll call my fiancé whatever I want,” Soobin said smugly. “Until said fiancé gets the idea that I would ever dump him far out of his mind.”
“I hate you.”
“Too bad, you’re marrying me anyways.”
“Exactly. I hate how much I don’t hate this at all.”
Soobin’s smile was blinding. Then, before Yeonjun could react, his phone started ringing. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen.
“Oh, it’s my mom. Give me a sec, I’ll tell her the good news.”
“Put her on speaker!” Yeonjun grinned. “I wanna tell her too!”
Soobin complied, pressing the button.
The moment the call connected, the booming sound of his mother’s voice filled the restaurant.
“CHOI SOOBIN! What is this I’m hearing from my poor sweetheart Yeonjunnie that you might be cheating and breaking up with him?! As your mother, I’m sorry for the language I’m about to use, but you better get that out of your ass, apologize, and propose right now or I swear I will disown you and your entire bloodline! He is worrying himself sick right now, and I will not stand here doing nothing!”
Silence.
The restaurant definitely heard that.
Yeonjun wanted to die. The entire world blurred around him as his soul nearly left his body.
Still, the weight of his ring pressed against his skin—solid and grounding. And that alone gave him the courage to own up to this conversation.
“I swear I really can explain,” he croaked.
Soobin, meanwhile, was cackling.
After several seconds of Soobin trying -and failing- to calm his mother down, he glanced at Yeonjun, a teasing glint in his eyes and winked.
The night air was crisp but not uncomfortably so, the scent of the nearby river mixing with the faint traces of expensive cologne lingering on Yeonjun’s shirt. The city lights shimmered on the water’s surface, casting long, wavering reflections that danced with the slow current. It was quiet here—away from the buzz of the restaurant, away from the whirlwind of emotions they had just endured. Just the two of them, walking hand in hand, fingers laced together like a promise.
Yeonjun swung their hands lightly between them, lips curling as he let out an amused huff. “I still can’t believe every single one of my friends knew. Every single one. Do you know how ridiculous I must’ve sounded when I called them to freak out about you breaking up with me?”
Soobin chuckled, squeezing his hand. “They might have mentioned it.”
Yeonjun groaned. “Of course they did.”
“Honestly,” Soobin continued, his tone unbearably smug, “they were trying to be a little subtle about it, but I could hear it clearly. Wooyoung literally laughed at you over the phone. Beomgyu said something about you being a 'drama queen' and not wanting to even pick up the phone.”
Yeonjun squawked. “That’s why he didn’t join!?”
“Yeah. Something about it being ‘too painful to listen to’ and ‘not wanting to catch secondhand embarrassment.’, but he was also helping pick out the ring so all should be forgiven, right.”
Yeonjun dramatically threw his head back. “I guess… God, now I’m embarrassed, I’m an embarrassment.”
Soobin hummed in agreement.
Yeonjun narrowed his eyes. “This is the part where you say, ‘No, baby, you’re perfect and your freakout was completely understandable.’”
Soobin turned to him, eyes filled with nothing but mischief. “No, baby, you’re perfectly dramatic and your freakout was completely hilarious.”
Yeonjun scowled, but the way Soobin grinned at him—the kind of grin that sent warmth straight to his chest—made it impossible to stay mad. So he looked away into the scene.
They fell into a comfortable silence, their footsteps in sync as they strolled alongside the river. Yeonjun let himself bask in it—the weight of Soobin’s hand in his, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat finally settling after such an eventful night.
Then, Soobin exhaled, his thumb tracing gentle circles against Yeonjun’s knuckles. “There’s something more I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
Yeonjun glanced at him. “Hm?”
Soobin smiled, something softer now—something earnest. “I talked to my job. Worked out the details.”
Yeonjun blinked. "Details? About what?"
“For remote work,” Soobin clarified. “They gave me the A-okay to work from anywhere, from the moment I ask.” He turned to fully face Yeonjun, voice steady, unwavering. “I can move to Europe with you.”
Yeonjun froze.
The words took a second to register, like his brain had short-circuited from an overload of happiness. His lips parted, breath hitching, and then—
“You’re what!?” Yeonjun gasped, staring at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.
Soobin laughed. “I’m moving with you, dumbass. We’re not gonna be separated for six months.”
“But—you—work—Europe—what—” Yeonjun’s brain shorted out entirely. He gaped at him, then abruptly grabbed Soobin’s face, squishing his cheeks between his hands, seeking the answer from the darkest pits of his soul. “You’re serious.”
Soobin, cheeks smushed, nodded. “Mhm.”
“Dead serious?”
Another nod.
Yeonjun let out a choked sound—half-laugh, half-sob—before practically smothering Soobin’s face in kisses.
“Best. Fiancé. Ever,” he said between pecks, each word punctuated by a kiss. “You are also the best thing to ever happen to me.”
Soobin snorted. “You’re acting like I just gave you a lifetime supply of ramen.”
“This is even better than ramen. So much better. I was dreading those six months without you, especially since we would’ve been newly engaged, but now—now I get you and Europe at the same time! God, you, Choi Soobin, make me the luckiest man alive.”
Soobin rolled his eyes, but there was no hiding the way his ears turned pink. “Yeah, yeah. You better be grateful.”
Yeonjun beamed at him, so full of love he thought his heart might actually burst.
Then, in the midst of his overwhelming joy, his brain supplied the most insane thought he could possibly conjure. Without thinking, he blurted, “The only way we could top today is if we suddenly decided to have a baby."
Soobin choked on air.
His mouth opened, closed, opened again.His whole body stiffened and his brain was visibly short-circuiting.
Yeonjun, realizing what he had just said, burst into hysterical laughter.
“Oh my god,” Soobin wheezed. “You—we—children!?”
Yeonjun clung to him, wheezing. “I’m kidding! Kidding! I just wanted to see your reaction, and—oh my god, you look like you just got hit by a truck that was going seventy miles per hour.”
Soobin groaned, dropping his head onto Yeonjun’s shoulder. “I hate you.”
“Nah, ah, ah. Remember? You love me,” Yeonjun corrected smugly.
The other lifted his head, shooting him a glare. “You are a menace.”
“And you’re stuck with me for life,” Yeonjun teased, holding up his hand and wiggling his fingers so the engagement ring caught the city lights.
Soobin stared at him for a moment.
Then, with an exasperated sigh, he leaned in and kissed Yeonjun—soft, slow, laughing against his lips.
“Yeah,” Soobin murmured. “I am.”