GUYS I JUST OPENED INSTA TO SEE A BUZZCUT HYUNJIN OMG IM DYING HE LOOKS SOO GOOD

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Beomgyu groaned as he slowly opened his eyes, the bright morning light streaming through the curtains feeling like tiny daggers against his temples. His head throbbed painfully, and he squinted, trying to make sense of his surroundings.

"Ugh," he muttered, reaching for his head with a wince.

He was in his own bed, the room feeling familiar, but there was an unfamiliar air to it—like he had just woken up from a very long, disoriented dream.

As he tried to recall the events of the previous night, nothing seemed to stick. It felt like the memories were just out of reach, like they had been shoved into a foggy haze he couldn't break through.

"What... happened last night?" Beomgyu whispered to himself, sitting up and rubbing his temples.

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Yeonjun had been pacing the small living room, his anxiety simmering beneath the surface. He had waited for this moment, hoping for the right words to come to mind when he finally confronted Beomgyu about the scars he had seen.

But now, with Beomgyu looking as disoriented as he did, Yeonjun felt a twinge of hesitation. Maybe now wasn't the right time to bring it up.

"Hey," Yeonjun said cautiously as Beomgyu finally sat up, looking like he had just woken from a deep slumber.

Beomgyu blinked up at Yeonjun, his eyes unfocused and bleary. "Yeonjun?"

"Yeah," Yeonjun replied, his voice tinged with a mix of concern and caution. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a truck," Beomgyu muttered, pressing a hand to his forehead. "What... happened last night?"

Yeonjun hesitated for a moment, the words caught in his throat. "You don't remember?"

Beomgyu shook his head, his face twisted in confusion. "I... don't. I feel like everything's a blur."

Yeonjun took a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts before speaking. "Beomgyu, I need to talk to you about something."

Beomgyu looked up at him, his expression still blank but now tinged with worry. "What's... what is it?"

"It's about... the scars," Yeonjun said gently, his voice more cautious than he intended. "I saw them last night, and I just... I wanted to understand."

Beomgyu's face turned a shade paler, and he shifted uncomfortably. "Oh," he said quietly. "You... saw that?"

"Yeah," Yeonjun said, trying to keep his tone neutral. "And I just... I want to know why. I want to help, if I can."

Beomgyu's eyes met Yeonjun's, and there was a vulnerability in his gaze that spoke volumes. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words seemed to catch in his throat.

"I... I didn't think you'd notice," Beomgyu finally said, his voice barely a whisper. "I didn't think you'd care."

Yeonjun reached out, gently placing a hand on Beomgyu's shoulder. "Of course I care, Gyu," he said softly. "I just want to understand what's going on. I want to be here for you."

Beomgyu looked up at Yeonjun, and for a moment, it felt like there was an unspoken promise hanging in the air.

"I... I don't know how to talk about it," Beomgyu said, his voice shaky. "It's been... a long time since anyone asked, let alone cared."

Yeonjun nodded, a mix of relief and sadness washing over him. "I'll wait," he said, "as long as you need."

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Beomgyu sat silently for a moment, the weight of Yeonjun's gaze on him making his chest tighten. He wasn't sure how to start, or even if he wanted to say it out loud. But something about the calm sincerity in Yeonjun's eyes made him feel like it was time.

"I... I don't really know how to explain it," Beomgyu began, his voice soft, almost fragile. "I guess it started when I was younger. Being in the mafia world, everything's about power, strength... dominance. And... I was always different."

Yeonjun stayed quiet, giving Beomgyu the space he needed, but his heart ached with every word.

"I've always felt... feminine," Beomgyu said, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "Not like the other guys. And because of that, I hated myself for it. I hated feeling weak. I hated feeling like I wasn't the man they wanted me to be. But I never told anyone." He paused, running a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated. "I thought maybe if I punished myself enough, it would go away. I started... cutting."

Yeonjun's breath hitched at the words, but he didn't interrupt, letting Beomgyu continue.

"At first, it was just small stuff. Like a scratch here and there when the pressure got too much. But over time, it got worse. Every time I felt like I wasn't enough, every time I felt like I was failing... I would do it again. And again." Beomgyu's voice broke for a moment, the vulnerability in it nearly unbearable. "It was the only way I could feel anything. I was too scared to show weakness, too scared to let anyone in. The mafia world... it doesn't have room for people like me. Not in the way I am."

Yeonjun felt his heart shatter at the rawness of Beomgyu's confession. He had always known that Beomgyu carried a heavy burden, but hearing the depth of his pain made him feel the weight of it like never before.

"Gyu," Yeonjun whispered, his voice trembling. He gently reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from Beomgyu's forehead, his hand resting on his cheek. "You don't have to do that. You're not weak. And you're not alone."

Beomgyu looked at him, the tears that had been threatening to spill now falling freely. He swallowed hard, trying to steady his breathing. "I just wanted to be... enough. I don't know how to stop, Yeonjun. It's like it's the only way to prove I'm strong. To myself. To them."

Yeonjun's heart ached at the desperation in Beomgyu's voice, and without thinking, he pulled him into a tight hug.

"I'm here, Gyu," Yeonjun murmured against his hair. "You don't have to prove anything to anyone. Especially not to me."

For a moment, Beomgyu allowed himself to melt into Yeonjun's embrace, the comforting warmth of the touch something he hadn't allowed himself to feel in so long.

"I don't know what to do anymore," Beomgyu whispered, his voice muffled by Yeonjun's chest.

"You don't have to know right now," Yeonjun replied softly. "We'll figure it out together. But I need you to know that no matter what, you're not weak. You're so much stronger than you think."

Beomgyu clung to him tighter, feeling a glimmer of something—hope, maybe?—spark deep within him. It was hard to believe, but in that moment, surrounded by Yeonjun's steady presence, it felt a little bit easier.

"I'm sorry," Beomgyu whispered, his voice full of self-loathing. "I'm sorry for being such a mess."

"You're not a mess," Yeonjun said firmly, pulling back to look Beomgyu in the eyes. "You're human. And you're going through something hard. I'm not going anywhere, okay?"

Beomgyu blinked up at him, surprised by the steadiness in Yeonjun's voice. He didn't know how to process the emotions flooding through him—the guilt, the confusion, the relief—but one thing was certain: maybe, just maybe, he wasn't as alone.

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