love how i decided to update

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

The days after their wedding were filled with quiet moments that felt heavier than any mission they could face. For Beomgyu, navigating life with Yeonjun meant a constant push and pull—between keeping his walls up and letting cracks show where they shouldn't.

One afternoon, they found themselves in the Choi estate's expansive living room. Yeonjun had made himself comfortable on the couch, scrolling through his phone. Beomgyu, on the other hand, was seated across the room, flipping through a book that he wasn't really reading.

"Hey, Gyu," Yeonjun called, his tone light but teasing. Beomgyu looked up, wary of whatever mischief Yeonjun was brewing.

"What?" Beomgyu asked, his voice sharper than he intended.

Yeonjun smirked, holding up his phone. "Come here for a second."

Beomgyu frowned but reluctantly got up, crossing the room to stand beside him. Yeonjun tilted the phone toward him, showing a photo of a model wearing intricate lace lingerie.

"Do you think this would look good on you?" Yeonjun asked, his voice dripping with mock seriousness.

Beomgyu's entire face went red, and he nearly choked on air. "What the—why would you even—"

Yeonjun laughed, clearly delighted by Beomgyu's reaction. "Relax, I'm joking. But you're adorable when you're flustered."

Beomgyu scowled, turning on his heel to leave. "You're impossible."

"Hey, don't be mad!" Yeonjun called after him, still laughing.

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

Later that night, long after Yeonjun had gone to bed, Beomgyu sat in the bathroom, the door locked and the lights dimmed. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, his expression hollow. The weight of everything—his family's expectations, the charade of his marriage, and the deep-seated pain he couldn't articulate—pressed down on him like a crushing force.

He rolled up his sleeve, revealing faint scars and fresh marks along his forearm. It was a habit he couldn't break, a twisted form of control in a life where he felt he had none.

The blade in his hand trembled, and for a moment, he hesitated. He thought of Yeonjun—his teasing smile, the way he always seemed to see through Beomgyu's walls without prying too deeply.

"What am I doing?" Beomgyu whispered to himself, his voice barely audible.

But the urge was stronger than his resolve. He made a shallow cut, just enough to feel the sting, to distract from the storm in his mind. It wasn't about punishment; it was about release.

When he was done, he cleaned the wound with practiced efficiency, pulling his sleeve down before heading back to the bedroom.

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

The next morning, Yeonjun noticed the change in Beomgyu's demeanor. He was quieter, more withdrawn, and his long sleeves seemed out of place in the warm weather.

"Gyu," Yeonjun said as they sat across from each other at breakfast, "is everything okay?"

Beomgyu looked up, startled. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Yeonjun frowned, studying him closely. "You just seem... off. If something's bothering you, you can tell me, you know."

Beomgyu forced a smile, his walls snapping back into place. "I'm fine. Don't overthink it."

But Yeonjun wasn't convinced. He watched as Beomgyu excused himself from the table, his gut telling him that something was very wrong.

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

 Beomgyu and Yeonjun was shifting, though neither of them was ready to acknowledge it aloud. It was in the way Yeonjun's teasing felt less like mockery and more like a gentle nudge to bring out the lighter side of Beomgyu. It was in the way Beomgyu let his guard down just enough to share fleeting moments of honesty.

One afternoon, Yeonjun returned from a trip into the city carrying a sleek black bag. Beomgyu barely looked up from the book he was reading on the couch until Yeonjun dropped the bag in his lap.

"What's this?" Beomgyu asked, frowning.

Yeonjun smirked, flopping down beside him. "Just open it."

Beomgyu hesitated, then opened the bag, his cheeks immediately flushing red as he pulled out a set of lace lingerie—soft black lace with delicate straps and intricate embroidery.

"Yeonjun," Beomgyu said, his voice a mix of exasperation and disbelief. "What the hell?"

Yeonjun leaned back, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "You're always so serious. Thought it might be fun to loosen you up a bit."

Beomgyu's heart raced, his mind spinning with a mix of embarrassment and something he couldn't quite name. "I'm not wearing this."

"Why not?" Yeonjun teased, his eyes sparkling. "You'd look amazing in it."

"Shut up!" Beomgyu snapped, throwing a pillow at him, which Yeonjun dodged effortlessly.

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

That night, as the house quieted down, Beomgyu found himself standing in front of the mirror in their bedroom. The lingerie lay on the bed behind him, taunting him.

He told himself he was only curious, that he just wanted to see what it would look like. Hesitantly, he picked up the set and slipped into it. The soft lace against his skin felt foreign yet oddly comforting.

When he finally turned to look at himself in the mirror, he froze. The sight of himself in the delicate fabric sent a rush of conflicting emotions through him. He felt vulnerable, exposed—but also beautiful in a way he hadn't allowed himself to feel before.

A knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts.

"Gyu?" Yeonjun's voice came from the other side. "You okay in there?"

Panic set in. "I'm fine! Don't come in!"

The door opened anyway, and Yeonjun stepped inside, freezing when he saw Beomgyu standing there in the lingerie. For a moment, neither of them said anything.

Then Yeonjun's lips curved into a soft smile—not teasing, not mocking, just genuine. "Wow."

Beomgyu's face turned bright red. "Don't say anything!" he blurted, crossing his arms over his chest.

Yeonjun stepped closer, his gaze gentle but unwavering. "I'm not making fun of you, Gyu. You look... stunning."

Beomgyu looked away, biting his lip. "It's weird, isn't it?"

"No," Yeonjun said firmly. "It's you. And you're perfect."

Beomgyu felt his walls cracking under the weight of Yeonjun's sincerity. For the first time in a long time, he let himself believe it might be true.

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧