Beomgyu Au - Tumblr Posts

" 𝐶𝑎𝑛 𝐼 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑎𝑑𝑦, 𝑛𝑜𝑤 " 🖤

iii. blushed cheeks & burned hearts — choi beomgyu

synopsis. finally, you were starting to understand the mistakes of your drunken youth. drunk on love? lies? hope? you weren’t too sure what your vice was, but you were sure it’d left you with a burned heart. a burned heart, which a boy with blushed cheeks and sweaty hands was too eager to fix.

pairing(s). choi beomgyu x gender-neutral!reader ft. (mentions of) soobin x reader & yeonjun x reader.

genre(s). angst, coming-of-age, drama, highschool au.

warnings. alcohol consumption, rebounding, partying, underage drinking. rated PG 15.

word count. 2.5k (2527)

taglist. @yeonyeonyeonjun if you’d like to be tagged in each part when i post them, feel free to send me an ask or dm me!!

listen to! run, JOJI ⭑ urs, NIKI ⭑ save room for us, tinashe ⭑ fever, dua lipa ft angèle ⭑ roller coaster, CHUNGHA

notes. i can’t believe the last part of heartbreak haven is already here 😭😭 ty guys SMMMMM for all the love & support you’ve given the series 🤧🤧 i rlly appreciate it & i hope this last part ties things up neatly. enjoy 🥰🥰

Sometimes, you wished you’d never met Choi Beomgyu. (And, other times, you wished he had never met you.)

Like, right now, head slumped against the cash register as he went on and on about his favourite show.

“_____, are you even listening?” His voice was whiny—it always was—and you visibly cringed at the voice crack halfway through. A red tint lit up his cheeks, as he cleared his throat. “Never mind.”

As Beomgyu disappeared back into the kitchen, his break finally over, you spared the diner’s clock a glance. You’d been glancing at it for the past hour of your shift, ever since he’d failed to show up. He was never late—at least, not this late—so his absence caused your fingers to twitch and a crease to form between your eyebrows.

Where was he?

The bell rang, startling you out of your slouch. Putting the register in order, the greeting tumbled past your lips before you caught a glance of the newcomer. “Welcome to Blue Diner, where we serve everyone’s favourite Korean meals infused with an element of—“

“50’s American fast food dishes?” the person interrupted, drawing your eyes up to them.

A slow grin grew on your lips, while you rolled your eyes. “Fuck, Jun, you almost gave me a heart attack there. I was considering ditching the register to check if you were dead in a ditch somewhere.”

Yeonjun shrugged noncommittally, a ghost of a smile (the most he ever smiled) on his face. “Sorry to burst your bubble, sweetheart, but I’m alive.”

“Then, why didn’t you come earlier?” Purposely pouting, you let your voice get a little whiny—just like Beomgyu’s. “I had to listen to his ass babble on about another one of his stupid shows. When will he get it through his thick skull that I don’t want to talk to him?”

“Hey, _____,” he winced slightly, “Don’t you think you’re being a bit too harsh? It’s not his fault your parents made you work here. The kid’s just probably excited to have a coworker his age.”

Yeonjun was right, he almost always was, but the reminder of the night your parents insisted you got a job was still too fresh. You could tell he knew as well from the apology spilling from his eyes.

Shaking your head, you muttered, “Let’s just… let’s not talk about that. How was your day?”

And, like there weren’t any delays or hitches, you and your best friend settled into your groove again. He made dry quips, you laughed so hard your sides hurt, and you could forget the fact that you were in a uniform you didn’t want to be in.

Meanwhile, Beomgyu stood by the kitchen door, your words replaying in his head.

“Are you and Choi Yeonjun dating?” was Beomgyu’s question that startled you on a cold, late night. It was minutes before your shift ended, the diner was empty, and you’d had a long day. The last things you were in the mood for were Beomgyu, his curious eyes, and his curious questions.

You were going to ignore him—roll your eyes and move on—but the mention of Yeonjun’s name made your stomach flip, but not in a good way. Immediately, your eyes drifted to your phone, hoping—praying, almost—that his name would illuminate the screen. But, no, there wasn’t anything there.

You hadn’t seen Yeonjun in three days now.

Exhaling deeply, you mumbled, “No. It’s not like that between us.”

“Really?” he sat in the chair across the counter, a rag in his hand in case your manager came out, “I was almost sure you were. There’s a certain chemistry between you that most friends don’t have… Y’know?”

“Maybe you just don’t have good friends,” you snapped. The remark stung, you could tell from the way Beomgyu smiled–so wide and so forced–and you buried your head in your hands. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

His smile grew, in size and sorrow. “No, it’s true. I don’t have many friends, in school and outside of it. The few friends I have… I feel like they have to be friends with me. Y’know? Or, maybe you don’t. You and Yeonjun are tight.”

“No,” you blurted out without thinking, only realising what you said as Beomgyu raised an eyebrow.

Biting your lip, you debated taking a break—to get away from Beomgyu, his prying questions, his prying eyes—but something within you was waiting for this moment. Waiting to pour past the dam that’d been constructed since Yeonjun had started avoiding you.

So, sighing deeply, the dam broke loose. “I don’t think Yeonjun cares about our friendship anymore.”

“What?” Beomgyu was loud, and his eyes held the same amount of incredulity you’d felt when you reached that conclusion. Resting his chin on his hands, he leaned in. “How’re you so sure about that?”

“Hm, I don’t know, maybe it’s him not texting me for three days straight, avoiding me when I try to talk to him, and even skipping classes so he doesn’t have to see me?” There was a noticeable strain in your voice, one that caused a frown on Beomgyu’s lips. Shrugging, you repeated, “Maybe. Just maybe.”

A heavy silence settled over the two of you, your confession weighing on your heart. It’d been one thing to think he was avoiding you, think he was going to extreme lengths just to make sure he didn’t have to see you. It was another to acknowledge that and verbalise it out loud. It almost confirmed your thought, even if you could only confirm it from Yeonjun himself. That thought, that crippling, scary thought that Yeonjun didn’t care about you anymore.

A lone tear slipped down your face—one you wiped away at quickly, yet Beomgyu still managed to see.

Placing a hand on yours, he muttered, “Does it burn? Your heart?”

“What?”

“Your heart burns, right?” He avoided your eyes, his voice wobbly and his hand on yours sweaty. “It’s not exactly like heartbreak, the type you feel when you break up with someone you love. It’s more like… your heart misses something, someone, so much that it aches… Do you get it?”

Slowly, you realised, as you became increasingly aware of the blood rushing in your ears, Beomgyu was right.

You hated that Beomgyu was right. You hated that your heart ached, pained, burned from the absence of one person. You hated that Yeonjun could do this to you—was doing it to you. You hated all of it.

Swallowing the ache, the pain, the burn, you glanced at your phone’s screen. Reading the 11:00 PM on the screen caused a spark to spring up in your chest, a thought forming. With one, final swallow, you clasped his hand back and smirked. “How do you feel about a walk home?”

As you watched a dark blush spread across his cheeks and felt his hand sweat even more, a sense of satisfaction and relief grew within you.

You were going to fan this spark, till you burned.

Beomgyu was no longer right.

Instead of the familiar, dull ache your heart nursed (barely nursed; the ache was festering into a wound but you kept the ugliness wrapped under gel and gauze), your heart was torn into pieces. The pieces were scattered all over the place, bloody and torn from the butterflies fighting to get through. With every empty inhale and exhale, you were sorely reminded the butterflies had won.

Beomgyu knew how to deal with a burned heart (didn’t just know how to deal with one—he was constantly nursing one of his own), but not a broken one.

He could mend—ever-so-slowly—the Yeonjun-shaped wound in your heart to take his shape and fit his ridges. He could soothe the ache on the days it was particularly bad, with his encouraging words and sweet smiles. He could even rip the bandaid off when needed, only to quiet down your cries with rubbing alcohol and patterned plasters.

But, picking up bloody, torn pieces was something he couldn’t do.

So, when you invited him to a house party, told him everything was fine, you were fine, and the party would be fine, he didn’t question anything. Instead, he spent hours picking out an outfit, lined his lips with extra chapstick (the sweet strawberry one you would end up kissing one too many times), and put the brightest smile on his face. The only worry he had, as he looked himself over one more time and ruffled his dark brown hair was, If we kiss, who will _____ imagine in my place? The blue boy, or the autumn breeze?

(It was him, Choi Beomgyu, you imagined but you never told him that.)

Like you’d told him, the party started off fine. He blushed when you two met up, stuttering through his compliment. You returned the sentiment, especially focusing on his pink lips and ruffled hair. It was hard to tell, under the flashing lights, but you were almost sure he’d gone red at that.

Then, things started to go awry. Alcohol was ingested, people were spotted, and suddenly Beomgyu’s comforting arm around your waist didn’t feel so comforting. Instead, you craved the cold—that light, crisp cold that came with autumn—and its bittersweet touch.

A smirk stretched your lips, one so empty and so cold, as you whispered in Beomgyu’s ear, “Wanna go off somewhere quiet?”

He paused. He knew what that meant. That your fingers would get tangled in his messy locks, your lips would move against each other, that—for a few moments—he would be more than the annoying coworker to you. And, while his heart ached less with the thought, he could feel a piece of the organ rip, barely managing to hold on to the rest of the mass.

Yet, licking his lips and wiping his sweaty hands, he mumbled a quiet, “Yes.”

And, you two were off, out into the cold where you felt the most at home.

Beomgyu paused when you sat down on a bare bench, closing your eyes against the wind whipping at your face. He didn’t know what to do, whether it would even be okay for him to sit on the other side of the bench while you communed with the cold. But, there was a growing itch to ask a question, one that he was practically pushing back from tumbling past his lips.

You peeked out through an eye, chuckling dryly at the sight of his wide ones. “Is something wrong? You wanna go back inside?”

“N-no, no!” He shook his head frantically, as a flush spread across his cheeks (from the cold or his usual embarrassment, you couldn’t tell. In the cold, it was always hard to tell.) “I just thought you wanted to come out here for something different. Like, maybe—”

“To make out?” There was an amused lilt in your voice, but your eyes were tired. (Beomgyu didn’t know which one was telling the truth.) “I’m not surprised you think that, after all I’ve told you. But… but no. ‘Just wanted to feel the last of the autumn breeze.”

Beomgyu sat down on the opposite side, trying not to break the silence with his little sniffles. But, he couldn’t help but blurt out, “Do you mean the actual autumn breeze, or... or Yeonjun?”

The silence resumed, only interrupted by the wind’s howls, while Beomgyu stared at you expectantly. Your eyes were closed, and your head was thrown back, like he hadn’t asked anything. But, from the twitch around your mouth to the obvious movement behind your eyelids, he could tell you were consumed by his question.

You almost always were (sometimes, you wished you weren’t).

Breaking the silence with a heavy sigh, you replied, “How would you feel if I said both? If I wanted to talk to Yeonjun again and say goodbye to autumn at the same time?”

“If you said both?” he repeated, staring at the side of your face, while you kept your eyes closed. “I’d tell you I can help you forget about the former.”

Your eyes flew open. “Help me?”

Beomgyu shifted forward, eyes flitting to the ground. “Yeah… I’m always here if you need me, _____.”

Slowly, you pieced his hints together—the chapstick, the ruffled hair, his sudden boldness. You shook your head. “I’m not using you as a rebound, Gyu. You’re more than that.”

“But isn’t that how we started off?” he challenged, raising an eyebrow. “You think I didn’t realise what you were doing? Replacing Yeonjun with me on your walks, _____?”

Guilt shined in your eyes, even as you shook your head again. “I… Yeah, I filled Yeonjun’s presence with yours. But, not to get over his absence—at least, not completely. I saw we were in the same boat, so I thought it’d be best if we stuck together. That’s not rebounding… right? It isn’t, right?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he shifted closer to you, turning his body to face yours. “Even if it is, I don’t care. You can use me as a rebound, as many times as you want.”

“No, _____,” you refused, but your voice was growing weaker and your eyes were flickering to his lips like they had at the beginning of the party. “I don’t want to hurt you. Not like… like he did to me.”

“But, are you really hurting me if I’m aware? Are you really hurting me if I want you to? If I don’t mind?”

The wind whistled a short answer, which was followed by a slow shake of your head.

Beomgyu smiled, a bittersweet sight. “Then?”

“Are you just saying this because you wanna kiss me?” you asked, laughing shortly after and dissipating all the tension that’d built up.

As you expected, his cheeks flushed deeply and he avoided your gaze, suddenly finding your shoes the most interesting thing on the patio.

Rolling your eyes and leaning forward, you whispered, “Then, why didn’t you just ask? Just tell me straight-up you want to kiss me, instead of bringing up all that rebound bullshit.”

“It’s that easy?” he asked, eyes widening. “I just had to tell you I want to kiss you? Really?”

“I mean, no? But, yes? For you, it’s easy. I trust you. I know you won’t misinterpret my feelings just because we kissed, and I know you won’t hurt me either. So, I don’t have to think much about it.”

(He wouldn’t hurt you, but how you were so sure you wouldn’t him?)

He leaned in, your breaths mingling with each other and scents mixing. Eyes focused on your eyes, your lips, your eyes, your—

“Well?” you mocked his tone from earlier, as you draped your arms around his neck. “Are you gonna kiss me, or should I kiss you?”

His beautiful blush spread across his cheeks again, eyes darting everywhere now. “Kiss me please.”

“Your wish is my command,” you quipped, smiling and closing the distance between you two.

And, while you two kissed, soft and slow—a question hanging over your heads of what would become of your relationship now—the reflection of Yeonjun in Beomgyu’s eyes didn’t leave your mind.

You didn’t think your burned, torn heart would be mended.

Ever.

i. autumn breeze | ii. butterflies

copyright 2022 soobisms, all rights reserved. no translations or reposts of any form allowed.