soobin sat on the edge of the balcony, his legs dangling over the side, gazing into the sprawling cityscape before him. the lights below twinkled like distant stars, a reminder that the world kept turning, moving forward, even though it felt like everything had stopped for him. his fingers brushed against the railing, the cold metal biting into his skin, but it wasn't enough to distract him from the ache in his chest. the pain that had lodged itself there when beomgyu had died.

it had been months. but still, it felt like the raw, fresh wound of loss hadn't healed at all. beomgyu's absence was a gaping hole, a silence that filled the spaces around him and suffocated him in ways he couldn't describe. he thought of beomgyu's laughter, his voice, the way he used to pull soobin into his arms, offering comfort without saying a word. but those days were gone. the warmth that once filled the room was now just a cold memory. 

soobin clenched his fist against the railing, his nails digging into his skin, trying to push the thoughts away. he wanted to stop thinking about it. but every time he closed his eyes, beomgyu's face flashed in his mind, as clear as if he was still there. and no matter how hard he tried, soobin couldn't erase the memory of that night. of beomgyu's body, lifeless and cold. he couldn't forget the final words beomgyu had said to him, the desperate plea, the promise that they would always be there for each other. but that promise had been broken.

"soobin."

the voice broke through his haze, soft and gentle, like a touch that soothed the pain just enough to make him open his eyes. yeonjun's presence was familiar, constant, but tonight, it felt different. soobin didn't turn to face him, didn't move at all. he couldn't. the grief had rooted itself too deeply inside him.

yeonjun didn't push. he simply stood beside soobin, quiet for a moment, letting the weight of the silence settle between them. it was the kind of silence that wasn't uncomfortable, but understanding. yeonjun didn't ask how soobin was. didn't question his grief. he simply was there.

after a while, yeonjun spoke again, his voice just above a whisper. "i'm here."

soobin felt the words press into his chest, heavier than any touch could have been. yeonjun had always been there, always been the one to pick up the pieces when everything fell apart. even when beomgyu was alive, yeonjun had been the one who held him steady, the one who made him laugh when it felt like nothing was worth smiling about. but now, with beomgyu gone, soobin wasn't sure how to let yeonjun in. the space between them felt vast and unbridgeable.

"i miss him," soobin finally whispered, the words escaping his lips before he could stop them. "i miss him so much."

yeonjun's hand landed softly on soobin's shoulder, a small, gentle pressure, grounding him in the moment. "i know," yeonjun said quietly, his voice warm and soft, as if trying to erase the distance between them. "i miss him too."

the words were simple, but the weight behind them was undeniable. soobin could feel yeonjun's sadness, the way it clung to him just as it clung to soobin. they were both grieving, both mourning the same person, and yet, neither of them knew how to process it. how to fill the space that had been left behind.

soobin closed his eyes, letting the memory of beomgyu flood over him again, the image of his smile, his bright, teasing eyes, and his constant need to make everyone around him laugh. soobin felt a sharp pang in his chest, a tear slipping down his cheek before he could stop it. it was a strange thing, grief. it never came when he expected it. always, in the most inconvenient of moments, like this one, when yeonjun was standing so close, offering him comfort he didn't know how to accept.

and then, before soobin could think, before he could push the feelings away, yeonjun stepped closer, his breath warm against soobin's ear. the touch of his hand on his shoulder shifted, moving to the back of soobin's neck, fingers brushing the sensitive skin there. the proximity between them was undeniable now, close enough that soobin could feel yeonjun's pulse, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. it wasn't just the grief that was overwhelming soobin now. it was something else, something unfamiliar, creeping into the space between them. something he wasn't ready for.

"soobin," yeonjun murmured, his voice low and intimate. "you're not alone."

soobin opened his eyes, turning his head just slightly to meet yeonjun's gaze. there was something in yeonjun's eyes, something raw, something he had never seen before. something like longing. and that feeling, that flicker of something unspoken, shot through soobin's chest like a live wire.the breath between them was tight now, both of them silent, neither of them knowing what to say. 

and then yeonjun moved closer, his lips brushing against soobin's in a tentative kiss. it was a whisper at first, soft and uncertain, but soobin felt the weight of it all, the grief, the loneliness, the love, the confusion, press into him. he didn't know what to do. he couldn't breathe. but he couldn't pull away, either.

their lips met again, and this time, yeonjun's hands, trembling slightly, found the back of his neck, fingers brushing over the faint scars there. scars he had tried so hard to hide, scars that beomgyu had known about but never questioned. beomgyu had always understood. but now, with yeonjun's touch, soobin felt something shift. a warmth that wasn't born from pain, but from a quiet understanding. yeonjun didn't ask about the scars. didn't question the past that had left marks on soobin's skin. instead, he held him closer, his lips parting against soobin's in a deeper kiss, one that sent waves of heat and confusion crashing through him.

the kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, as if neither of them wanted to let go of this fragile moment. soobin's fingers curled into the fabric of yeonjun's shirt, pulling him closer, desperate for something to fill the void that beomgyu's death had left behind. but it wasn't just about the kiss. it was about the way yeonjun was here, now, holding him in a way that felt real. in a way that felt like maybe, just maybe, they could both survive this pain together.

soobin's breath hitched when yeonjun's fingers traced the scars on his wrist, a gentle, almost reverent touch that made soobin's heart twist. he didn't want to think about what those scars meant, what they represented. but yeonjun was there, his fingers warm against the cold remnants of the past, and for the first time in so long, soobin didn't feel like he was drowning alone.

yeonjun pulled away just slightly, his forehead resting against soobin's, their breaths mingling in the space between them. soobin's heart was racing, his chest tight, but there was a strange peace in the way yeonjun held him, like nothing else mattered. nothing but this. nothing but the shared grief, the shared desire, the quiet need for each other that neither of them had ever spoken aloud.

"you're not alone," yeonjun whispered again, his voice rough, but steady. "not anymore."

soobin nodded, unable to speak, his throat too tight with emotion. he didn't know what this was. didn't know if it was the start of something new or just a momentary escape from the pain they both carried. but it didn't matter right now. because, for the first time in what felt like forever, soobin didn't feel so empty.

yeonjun's hand lingered on soobin's wrist, his thumb gently stroking the delicate scars there, the soft movement almost like an apology. as he pulled away just enough to meet soobin's eyes, there was something in his gaze that wasn't quite sadness, but something close—something heavy with the weight of what had just happened, of the things they hadn't said.

"bin," yeonjun's voice was quiet, but firm, "i don't want to replace him. i can't."

soobin's chest tightened at the words, the grief suddenly rising up in him again, like it had been there all along, just waiting for a crack. he nodded, his heart heavy. "i know," he whispered. he hadn't needed yeonjun to say it, but hearing hearing yeonjun's vulnerability, his understanding of the delicate line they were walking, made something inside him soften.

yeonjun took a slow breath, his fingers tracing the edge of soobin's wrist one more time before pulling his hand away gently, as if afraid that holding on too long might hurt them both.

"i'm not trying to be him," yeonjun continued, his words quiet but steady, "i'm just trying to be here. with you. however you need me."

soobin didn't know how to respond, didn't know what to say to make the ache go away. all he knew was that yeonjun was right. he wasn't trying to replace beomgyu. and for that, soobin felt a quiet relief.

 in that moment, he didn't need yeonjun to be anyone else. he just needed him to stay.