The Monday after Beomgyu returns from Japan is the last day of pre-production work for the pilot. It only takes him five hours at the studios, poring over last minute changes and making hand-overs to the production team and the lead stylist on set.

"Beomgyu-ah," Kai says, at lunchtime when he and Roseanne are explaining vintage storage to the stylist . "We're doing lunch together. Taehyung and Jimin hyung and me. Do you want to come?"

Beomgyu nodded, turning to offer him a smile. "Of course! Just give me a minute, hyung."

Kai lingers, eyebrows scrunched. "Uh...Yeonjun hyung is coming, too."

"Great," Beomgyu says, trying to keep his voice disaffected. "I had to show him some stuff Jennie will need for production, anyway."

He sees Kai wavering at the periphery of his vision, lips pulled down in a frown, arms crossed as he thinks. Beomgyu busies himself with the age-stain patterns Roseanne is showing him, but his mind buzzes. How much does Kai know? How much had Yeonjun told him? Had he spilled all the details-from their night in Harajuku to the auction to them sleeping together? Or had it been pick and choose, to justify why he fled, reinforcing whatever excuses Yeonjun had given himself?

Not that it matters. Not that Beomgyu cares.

Yeonjun has always been perfectly clear where he stands with respect to emotions and relationships. There's nothing of surprise here, nothing extraordinary that it ought to affect Beomgyu so. It's Beomgyu who went and caught feelings, and he's going to deal with it. Step one is to let things fall back into something resembling normalcy. And normalcy is grabbing lunch with his hyungs.

They end up at a small but fancy little place serving various sorts of dumplings. It's only supposed to be a working lunch-Taehyung discussing long lists of things that are still supposed to be done and Jimin heckling him and Beomgyu riling them both up with increasingly pointed old married couple jokes-but then they start drinking and it quickly spirals into disaster.

Somewhere between laughing at Kai's bright-red face and Jimin's increasingly desperate dad jokes, Beomgyu notices that Yeonjun has barely said a word. He's quiet in a corner, hands folded and sipping lightly from his bottle, paler than usual. He startles a bit when Beomgyu looks at him, and then averts his gaze. His jaw is clenched, eyes hard, and Beomgyu thinks he's right in assuming that Yeonjun had been watching him.

"Listen," Beomgyu says, reaching across the table for a drink. "Do you guys want to know about these fucking boots Yeonjun hyung bought in Japan?"

There's a bit of silence at this from Jimin and Kai- who seem to be clued in to what transpired in Tokyo-and a lot of enthusiasm from Taehyung who seems utterly clueless about things outside of the project as usual. Kai's mouth makes this funny, worried shape. Jimin, sitting next to Beomgyu, only rubs a hand up his back, a gentle sort of admonishment.

So Beomgyu tells the story. He keeps his gaze on Yeonjun the entire time, even when Kai gives in and starts chuckling at the thought of the poor store proprietor. Yeonjun offers nothing at all, gone completely stiff and stone-like, but when Beomgyu finishes his story and excuses himself to the bathroom, he follows.

There's an unhappy curl to his mouth. "What are you doing?"

Beomgyu leans over the sink, splashing water on his face. "What do you mean? I just thought it was a funny story."

"I'm not talking about the story."

Beomgyu draws back, looking at his reflection in the mirror. He looks a little off, even to himself; a colder, harder version of him with his hair under a snapback and brows tight.

"I really was just trying to involve you in the conversation, hyung."

"Forget that shit," Yeonjun snaps, waving his arm like he's trying to swat an annoying fly. "What are you doing?"

Beomgyu blinks. "Having lunch with my co-workers? Hoping to finish up by five so I can go help Taehyun at the store? Which part do you mean, hyung?"

Yeonjun scuffs the edges of his shoes on the floor. They're boots again, today, silver-buckled and sleek. He looks uncomfortable. It's worse than him looking angry. This feels more volatile, dangerous.

It takes him several minutes to speak. "The part where you're ignoring the elephant in the room." Yeonjun's gaze is accusing, but he curls his body in, pulls his arms together. Like he wants and expects Beomgyu to get angry, to lash out. "You're acting as if everything's fine."

"Aren't we?" Beomgyu asks, reaching out for a bunch of tissues. "Fine?"

Yeonjun gives a stiff chuckle and stomps lightly down on the ground again. He looks angry now, lips thin and eyes wild, but it doesn't seem to be directed at Beomgyu. There's something inward about it, something incendiary.

It's not Beomgyu's to kindle.

"It's alright, hyung," he says, quietly. "I get why you left."

Yeonjun worries at his lip, his face stormy. "And-and what?" he asks, in croak. "You've just decided that it wasn't a shit move on my part?"

"It was just sex," Beomgyu says. He keeps his smile in place. "Happens. It's only weird if we make it weird, right, hyung?"

A frown appears between Yeonjun's eyebrows. He looks at Beomgyu for a while, trying to figure out if Beomgyu's being sarcastic, eyes narrowed and face slightly pink. It's an oddly charged moment, possibilities forking like lightning, and just for a second Beomgyu considers impossible things.

Touching him again. Kissing him.

But there's a klaxon in his head now, screaming every time he thinks of Yeonjun, and it hurts too much. He won't think about it, it hurts too much. It's easier to let things go, ignore the elephant in the room, hope that his work ending on the pilot will also end whatever this is between them.

Beomgyu moves to push past him. "We should get back. I have to show you some stuff the stylist will require during production."

Yeonjun grabs his hand. "Beomgyu-ah..." he starts, and then peters off. Beomgyu looks down at where Yeonjun's pale fingers encircle his wrist, and memory surges through him, unbidden. An entire train journey, like this, with their hands entwined until they were at the hotel room. Then the faltering, fumbling heat of Yeonjun's fingers tugging at his clothes, growing surer on his bare skin.

He thinks of falling asleep with loose hope held in his chest like a crushed little bird.

He thinks of waking up alone.

It's his fault. His fault for not being able to talk about this, his fault for wanting more and more. His fault for falling for Yeonjun in the first place.

What did he think would happen? There's no room for heartbreak when Beomgyu had gotten exactly what he had expected.

"Hyung," he says, pulling his hand out of Yeonjun's grip. "It's okay. You don't have to apologize."

Yeonjun looks slightly stricken. He opens his mouth, as if to argue, and Beomgyu doesn't wait for him. He can deal with this. He can put this behind him, as long as he doesn't have to confront it.

He doesn't think he can deal with Yeonjun saying he regrets it.

Regrets him.

"I want dessert," he says, pushing out of the door. "Come on, hyung."

***

This winter season on the runway is eye-gloss shimmer and modern sixties flower power. Fetish ponytails that swish to the floor. Marine-quartz hair-color and supreme cheekbone glitter.

And vintage.

Cocoon, trapeze and mod styles are in. Opaque robe coats a la 70s rule the runway. There's a massive vintage embroidery surge for ready-made clothing, so winter becomes all about sourcing design-swatches. They keep busy, him and Taehyun, herding bright-eyed fashion students and established designers through boxes full of inspirational swatches. It's also awards season, everywhere, and their own internal network of procurers is buzzing with requests. An LA store wants a frock coat, preferably pre-20s. A London designer wants the sort of stuff that look like it came out of a vintage Parisienne. Winter months are always busy, but this year, Vintage Minnie has also found page-spreads in media and fashion mags this year-thanks to the TV pilot. That means more and more tourists, fashion students, celebrities. It's not hectic but it's nice, buzzy, the frigid outdoors of Seoul mid-winter merely an afterthought with all the time they're spending in the store.

It's good, the buzz. Keeps Beomgyu occupied.

Taehyun had come back from Singapore with boxes full of jewelry and an idea for a little show. It'll be small, cozy, intimate: they've done some before, themed or seasonal, and they know how to go about it. He and Taehyun spend a Friday sitting amidst towers of clothes they have, trying to take seasonal inventory and draw up some plans. Soobin wanders in and out asking if everything is okay. Of the three of them, he's always been the most empathetic. Beomgyu tells him everything is fine, because everything is-isn't it? He and Yeonjun are on speaking terms. The pilot's pre-production is done and wrapped, and production is in its last stages. All that's really left is a couple more scenes to shoot and then the sets can be struck for now and they can celebrate. A nice, fun evening to sum up the whirlwind weirdness this whole project has been.

Beomgyu's looking forward to that.

Soobin is less sure. "You feel like you're really trying hard to convince yourself that you're happy, Beommie."

"It's the cold, Soobin-ah," Beomgyu says, blearily. "The weather is so annoying-"

Soobin rolls his eyes so hard Beomgyu thinks he might hurt himself. "You're blaming the fucking weather? That's a new low. You love winter."

"No, I don't!"

"You were born in frozen winter, Elsa, shut up," Soobin says. "What is this really about? Is this about Yeonjun hyung?"

"Soobinie, please. Let it be."

Soobin turns to Taehyun, his teeth grit. "You talk some sense into him. He feels like he's going to explode. It's like an angst-drama inside his head, and I can't concentrate. All my crystals are turning out weird."

Beomgyu chuckles half-heartedly. "That doesn't even make sense."

"It does!" Soobin waves a bunch of smoke quartz in Beomgyu's face. "They're all occluded. They're soaking up all your weird negativity. You're killing the crystals."

"I'm not killing the-"

Soobin whirls on him, his eyes bright and unhappy. "Can you just hurry up and deal with your shit, already? Why can't you just talk to us about whatever's bothering you? Don't we matter enough for you to trust us?"

Beomgyu gapes at him in utter confusion. Soobin stares down at him, mouth twisted in a scowl, breathing hard. Then he throws up his hands and takes a step back. "I'm sorry, Beommie," he snaps, and Beomgyu's sure he doesn't mean it. "I shouldn't have spoken that way to you."

Beomgyu sighs and flops into a pile of clothing. Blue immediately tries to climb on his face. Soobin reaches to swoop the dog into his arms, mumbling something that sounds like at least you're happy as he barrels out of the room.

Taehyun is more subtle. He waits until Soobin is banging around upstairs to tug Beomgyu back into a sitting position. "Ignore that. He's just worried."

"He doesn't have to be," Beomgyu sniffs, picking up his scissors. "I'm fine."

Taehyun shrugs. "If you say so. You'll tell me when you want to tell me, and I'll be here then," he says. "You're hard to get stuff out of, anyway."

That gets through to him. Beomgyu looks up from where he's bent over a magazine, cutting a snippet for a mood-board. "What? You think I'm keeping secrets, too?"

Taehyun looks at him carefully. "You've always been so closed off about shit, Beommie."

Beomgyu scoffs. "I literally whine to you every day that my life sucks."

"Shit that matters," Taehyun clarifies, a little frown tugging at his mouth. "You just say you're bad at words and laugh it off. You'll tell me all the good things, but the moment it's something bad, something that's hurting you, you're gone. I can't reach you when you're like that."

"What even do you-" Beomgyu laughs, and it feels forced, sticking again in his throat, like something slimy and rotten. "I tell you everything, Taehyunie."

"You didn't tell me about the bad episodes."

There's a tiny bit of hurt in his tone and Beomgyu bites his lip, a surge of unfairness curdling his stomach. "Who told you, then? Was it Yeonjun hyung? Because I didn't want him to-"

"No one told me, Beommie," Taehyun cuts across, quietly. "I have no idea why you didn't tell me, but you're my best friend. I figured it out."

"You knew the whole time?"

Taehyun sighs. "Why do you think I didn't freak out when Yeonjun hyung called me from Tokyo? I knew you'd be fine."

Their Christmas decorations this year are white-gold streamers and bouquets of silver and white. Beomgyu keeps his eyes on a swirling piece of streamer, a lead-block lodged somewhere between his throat and his mouth, stalling all his words. He doesn't like this. It feels raw and painful to be seen like this, beyond the surface. To be weak like this. If this is why Yeonjun runs away, then Beomgyu understands. It's easier to get hurt this way-so much more easier-and all he wants is to go back to a time before he had to think about all this.

Taehyun's watching him, eyes narrowed, his fingers stilling on the scissors he'd been using to cut out shapes.

"Whatever's happened between you two-none of what you feel is wrong, you know? You liked him. He gave you weird mixed signals and then ditched you. It's okay to be angry about it, Beommie. At him or at yourself. But you're only one person. I can't solve your problems for you but I can make you hot chocolate and I can cuddle the shit out of you and we can complain about it together. Isn't that better than carrying it all around inside your head?"

Beomgyu fiddles with the edge of a cutout. His face is hot and his throat feels so, so tight. There's a pause so heavy and yawning that it proves to be an easy out: he can just go back to work, force his fingers steady, crack a joke and let this conversation die a natural death. It's what he would normally do; most likely what Taehyun expects him to do.

But ever since he'd woken up alone in Tokyo there's been a gulf between him and the rest of the world. He wonders if he's always felt like that, or if something had jarred within him in those couple of days. If Yeonjun has jarred something in him.

Everyone fucks everyone over. When it comes down to it, we 're all on our own.

That's what Yeonjun believes. That's what he says Beomgyu believes too-with the careful distance he builds, the bridges he doesn't cross. They've both been living so scared, for so long.

Fuck that, Beomgyu thinks. What a waste, really, to live scared.

"Taehyun-ah," he says, and it feels painful to speak. "Did you ever realize it? When I was in love with you?"

Taehyun says nothing for the longest time. The scissors float across the magazine's glossy paper, snip-snip, Taehyun's small hand making quick work of the runway style cutout he's working on. Beomgyu thinks he's going to let that go, too, is perhaps shocked by the admission, but then-so softly that Beomgyu nearly misses it-he nods.

"I'm not anymore," Beomgyu says, quickly, with a watery smile. "Don't get me wrong. I- I got over it, I just-"

"I'm sorry," Taehyun whispers. His eyes are round, face twisted in worry, and suddenly Beomgyu wants the stupid floor to swallow him up or something.

This is why, he thinks. This is exactly why he doesn't get into talking about this shit. Why did he say it? Now he's just made it weird. That's what he does, whether he wants to or not-make everything weird. "No, no," Beomgyu sputters, horrified, "Don't be, I'm not-I don't blame you! I'm just-I'm the idiot. Always falling in love with unavailable people."

He means it as a joke-really. Means it to be a pithy little remark, something to chuckle at, because that's what it is.

Beomgyu, going around falling in love with exactly the people who he cannot have.

How fucking funny.

Only, Taehyun drops his scissors. He climbs over a stack of coats to reach Beomgyu, and nearly knocks him into another mountain of robes with the force of his hug. Beomgyu returns it shakily, confused now, but then Taehyun pets his hair, his cheeks.

"Beommie," he says, quietly, "Do you like him?"

And Beomgyu knows-even as he tries to laugh it off-that it's over.

It's like his heart is splintering. He feels like Yeonjun's exposed some raw nerve in him. Some buried thing now unburied, now surfaced. He doesn't know how to make it disappear again. Doesn't even really know how to breathe around it.

Now that the gulf is crossed, now that there are no more secrets, it's like all of Beomgyu's defense mechanisms just fail. There's shame. He barely knows Yeonjun but it had felt somehow like there was an eternity between them, and now he feels like he's brain is a fucking cheater to make him think that. Why had he been so stupid? There's hurt. There's a whole bunch of other stuff he can't name-fear, most of all-but there's also Taehyun's weight, like an anchor, and Beomgyu clutches on and gasps like he's drowning.

It's not fair, he thinks, that Yeonjun's words are always so sharp but his touch always so gentle. It's not fair that Yeonjun says he hates everyone and then proceeds to be so, so kind. It's not fair that he thinks he doesn't understand people, most of all Beomgyu, and then seems to get Beomgyu in a way most people don't.

It's not fair.

Not fair that he will never stop running. Not fair that he will always weigh love against safety and pick safety. Not fair that Beomgyu will never matter to him enough to pull down the insulation he's built against the world-and-and-

"Oh, Beommie."

Taehyun holds him, rocks him gently. Beomgyu's breath catches in his throat in gasps and his body shakes and he can't stop the sobs. He's vaguely aware that Soobin comes back, feels him at the periphery of his awareness and then closer-right on top of him-his face worried and eyes big and Bambi-like, and somehow that sets Beomgyu off, too, and Soobin tries to scurry off, alarmed.

"No, no," Taehyun murmurs, reaching out to drag him back. "He wants you. Don't you, Beommie?"

Beomgyu makes a vague motion with his hand, because that's literally all he feels capable of. It looks like it's enough for Soobin, though, because he crawls over to join the cuddle party, petting frantically at the top of Beomgyu's head.

"I'm sorry for yelling," he whispers, and swipes uselessly at Beomgyu's cheeks. "Can we put Yeonjun hyung back on the kill list now?"

Taehyun slaps the back of his head. Soobin mumbles a soft ow, and throws a heavy arm over Beomgyu's chest. It feels nice. Calming. Beomgyu breathes against Taehyun's shoulder, slowly starting to feel less like a dying fish out of water.

"I don't feel murderous yet, but he can't just do what he did to you and get away with it," Taehyun says, reaching for his phone. "I'm telling Kai."

Beomgyu grabs his arm. "D-don't. I already spoke to Yeonjun about it."

"You did? And?"

Beomgyu sniffles and rubs at his eyes. "I told him it was okay. He didn't have to apologize."

"Um-fuck yeah he does?" Soobin says, sitting up suddenly. "What kind of dick move was that? Who the hell does that after-"

"After what?" Beomgyu asks. "After he came with me to Tokyo because I was sick? After he hung around at an auction that was my job making sure I was okay? He was entitled to leave any time."

Taehyun squeezes his hand. "After he slept with you, Beommie."

"Isn't that what you do, though?" Beomgyu asks, quietly. "You do one-night stands. You move on. That's how it works, isn't it, when it's no strings attached?"

Taehyun sighs and smooths Beomgyu's hair off his face. "But it's never no strings attached with you, is it?"

"It doesn't matter. Kai said-said Yeonjun hyung doesn't do dates. He doesn't-I mean. This is probably exactly what he wanted, and I'm just being an ass about it. Right?"

Taehyun pouts. "He left you in a shared hotel room in fucking Japan."

"He shouldn't have been there in the first place."

Soobin snorts. "You're so fucking stubborn, Beommie."

"Well, they have that in common if nothing else." Taehyun tries to sit up, finds that all their legs are tangled up inextricably, and lies back down, half on top of Beomgyu's chest. "Beommie, what are you going to do?"

Beomgyu thinks awhile. "Nothing," he says, finally, annoyed that he can't keep the defeated note out of his voice. "I'm going to put this behind me, focus on our show, and see him at the celebratory dinner. Then I'm going to let him go wherever he wants to go, live his life, whatever-"

Taehyun clicks his tongue. "Beommie, you-"

"No-it's going to be fine. I knew this was where it would go, even before I slept with him. I expected no surprises. I'll be fine," he reaches to flick gently at Taehyun's chin, dredges up a smile, squeezes Soobin with the other arm. "Really. It'll be fine."

***