The only heartbreaker
Jun. 22nd, 2022 07:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
furniishedTOMORROW X TOGETHER | Beomgyu/Taehyun/Hueningkai | G | 956 words
An attempt at a different take on Mitski's The Only Heartbreaker; or, in the words of me, "every Beomgyu pairing is a triangulation"
--
They’re almost at the front of the line when Taehyun’s phone rings.
“It’s my mom,” he says, surprised. Premeditation is an inherited trait; no one in his family is the type to call out of the blue. The rest of the conversation is vague, with Taehyun mostly nodding and making sounds of assent. Beomgyu resists the urge to pick at a callous on his thumb.
Finally Taehyun hangs up, blinking quickly. “My sister’s having her baby.”
Beomgyu's head snaps up. “She’s having her – ?”
“Woohoo!” Beomgyu’s echo is cut off by Hueningkai, who grabs Taehyun by the shoulders and starts shaking him excitedly. “Uncle Taehyun!! Uncle Taehyun has arrived!” Taehyun’s tense expression melts at Hueningkai’s joyful manhandling, their laughter joining the cacophony of the amusement park.
“I have –” Taehyun flaps his arms halfheartedly to stop Hueningkai’s jostling. “I have to go – to the hospital.”
“Now?” Beomgyu blurts out, but the two don’t hear him, their heads bent over Taehyun’s phone as he figures out the best way to get to Gangnam. How many people does it take to call a cab? Just then, the line starts moving, the ferris wheel ahead slowing to a crawl to exchange its passengers. Beomgyu shuffles sideways, trying to close the distance without creating a new one.
Taehyun notices Beomgyu's awkward gait and and steps around the metal railing, excusing himself from the queue. Hueningkai moves to follow him, but Taehyun waves him off, telling him to stay.
“The car’s almost here. It’s family-only hours now, anyway.”
Beomgyu looks between the two. A roller coaster roars over their heads.
“Taehyun-ah,” he says, just as a stream of messages starts coming into Taehyun’s phone, the repeated ringtones overlapping boisterously.
“Yeah?” Taehyun looks at him curiously, ignoring the steady vibration in his hand.
What had he been about to say? Don’t go? Stay for one more ride? Miss the birth of your nephew because Hueningkai and I aren’t really friends and have nothing to talk about without you?
Beomgyu looks down. “Here.” He thrusts the small plushie that he’d won at one of the carnival games towards Taehyun. It’s a teddy bear wearing a cowboy hat and a fringed jacket. The sequins on the outfit probably aren’t suitable for newborns. “For the baby.”
Taehyun grins. “Thanks, hyung,” he says, reaching out to take the furry thing.
The ferris wheel grinds to a halt with the sound of shearing metal, waiting for Beomgyu and Hueningkai to get on the next empty car. The strip of lights along the side illuminates the chipped paint, the rust staining the door at the hinges. They don't look at each other as they board. The capsule creaks through its ascent.
“You like Taehyun, don’t you?” Hueningkai breaks the silence just as they reach the top and the operator slows the ferris wheel to a crawl to give the passengers the sunset view they’d been waiting for. Beomgyu’s stomach drops. What timing, he thinks, leaning his forehead against the window. Had Hueningkai always been so straightforward? He can hear the people in the next car cooing over the immodest orange sky, Seoul’s skyline sprawling to the east.
It’s not like Beomgyu doesn’t know the answer to the question. He’s always been one to indulge in his own yearning, doodles of hearts and names and future domestic bliss crowding right up against drawings of racecars and jagged-tooth beasts in the margins of his middle school notebooks.
He exhales, his breath clouding up a small patch of the window. He can’t tell if it’s just his imagination, that it’s colder up here, or if the change in altitude is really enough to make him shiver. He draws an X through the condensation.
“I think he likes you, hyung.”
Beomgyu looks up at Hueningkai sharply, a bolt of feeling in his chest. “He told you?”
Hueningkai shakes his head. His hand balls into a fist against his shaking leg.
“I can just tell.”
Beomgyu thinks about the way Taehyun’s face lights up when he sees Hueningkai, joy spreading with a clarifying urgency across his sharp features. The crook of his elbow when he threads his hand through the taller boy’s waiting arm. Their heads bowed close together, the vertebrae along the back of Hueningkai's pale neck as he cranes his head downwards.
“You too, huh.” He's surprised at the accusatory tone that bleeds into his voice, but he doesn't try hard to hide it.
It’s like they’re in space, suddenly, like all sound has been sucked out of the cabin. The sky bleeds purple.
“Are we going to fight?” Beomgyu says, only half joking. Hueningkai snorts softly, looking out the window. The ferris wheel jolts back to its normal pace for the final half revolution.
“You’re good at keeping secrets, right hyung?”
Beomgyu raises an eyebrow. Most people in their circle would say that he was a blabbermouth, not realizing that his constant chattering was just a way to pad and illuminate the protective space around a dense, absorptive center of quiet.
Beomgyu’s phone chimes, and both of them look down at the muffled, glowing rectangle in his jacket pocket. The attendant pulls the door of the car open, breaking the vacuum and exposing them once again to the neon and noise of the carnival. The sun has set quickly, leaving everything awash with the milky blue of twilight. A sheepish thrill floods through Beomgyu when he checks the notification, and he climbs out first to hide the smile on his face. Hueningkai follows, hands in his pockets. The fog on the window fades completely, leaving behind only two intersecting streaks across the dirty glass.
An attempt at a different take on Mitski's The Only Heartbreaker; or, in the words of me, "every Beomgyu pairing is a triangulation"
--
They’re almost at the front of the line when Taehyun’s phone rings.
“It’s my mom,” he says, surprised. Premeditation is an inherited trait; no one in his family is the type to call out of the blue. The rest of the conversation is vague, with Taehyun mostly nodding and making sounds of assent. Beomgyu resists the urge to pick at a callous on his thumb.
Finally Taehyun hangs up, blinking quickly. “My sister’s having her baby.”
Beomgyu's head snaps up. “She’s having her – ?”
“Woohoo!” Beomgyu’s echo is cut off by Hueningkai, who grabs Taehyun by the shoulders and starts shaking him excitedly. “Uncle Taehyun!! Uncle Taehyun has arrived!” Taehyun’s tense expression melts at Hueningkai’s joyful manhandling, their laughter joining the cacophony of the amusement park.
“I have –” Taehyun flaps his arms halfheartedly to stop Hueningkai’s jostling. “I have to go – to the hospital.”
“Now?” Beomgyu blurts out, but the two don’t hear him, their heads bent over Taehyun’s phone as he figures out the best way to get to Gangnam. How many people does it take to call a cab? Just then, the line starts moving, the ferris wheel ahead slowing to a crawl to exchange its passengers. Beomgyu shuffles sideways, trying to close the distance without creating a new one.
Taehyun notices Beomgyu's awkward gait and and steps around the metal railing, excusing himself from the queue. Hueningkai moves to follow him, but Taehyun waves him off, telling him to stay.
“The car’s almost here. It’s family-only hours now, anyway.”
Beomgyu looks between the two. A roller coaster roars over their heads.
“Taehyun-ah,” he says, just as a stream of messages starts coming into Taehyun’s phone, the repeated ringtones overlapping boisterously.
“Yeah?” Taehyun looks at him curiously, ignoring the steady vibration in his hand.
What had he been about to say? Don’t go? Stay for one more ride? Miss the birth of your nephew because Hueningkai and I aren’t really friends and have nothing to talk about without you?
Beomgyu looks down. “Here.” He thrusts the small plushie that he’d won at one of the carnival games towards Taehyun. It’s a teddy bear wearing a cowboy hat and a fringed jacket. The sequins on the outfit probably aren’t suitable for newborns. “For the baby.”
Taehyun grins. “Thanks, hyung,” he says, reaching out to take the furry thing.
The ferris wheel grinds to a halt with the sound of shearing metal, waiting for Beomgyu and Hueningkai to get on the next empty car. The strip of lights along the side illuminates the chipped paint, the rust staining the door at the hinges. They don't look at each other as they board. The capsule creaks through its ascent.
“You like Taehyun, don’t you?” Hueningkai breaks the silence just as they reach the top and the operator slows the ferris wheel to a crawl to give the passengers the sunset view they’d been waiting for. Beomgyu’s stomach drops. What timing, he thinks, leaning his forehead against the window. Had Hueningkai always been so straightforward? He can hear the people in the next car cooing over the immodest orange sky, Seoul’s skyline sprawling to the east.
It’s not like Beomgyu doesn’t know the answer to the question. He’s always been one to indulge in his own yearning, doodles of hearts and names and future domestic bliss crowding right up against drawings of racecars and jagged-tooth beasts in the margins of his middle school notebooks.
He exhales, his breath clouding up a small patch of the window. He can’t tell if it’s just his imagination, that it’s colder up here, or if the change in altitude is really enough to make him shiver. He draws an X through the condensation.
“I think he likes you, hyung.”
Beomgyu looks up at Hueningkai sharply, a bolt of feeling in his chest. “He told you?”
Hueningkai shakes his head. His hand balls into a fist against his shaking leg.
“I can just tell.”
Beomgyu thinks about the way Taehyun’s face lights up when he sees Hueningkai, joy spreading with a clarifying urgency across his sharp features. The crook of his elbow when he threads his hand through the taller boy’s waiting arm. Their heads bowed close together, the vertebrae along the back of Hueningkai's pale neck as he cranes his head downwards.
“You too, huh.” He's surprised at the accusatory tone that bleeds into his voice, but he doesn't try hard to hide it.
It’s like they’re in space, suddenly, like all sound has been sucked out of the cabin. The sky bleeds purple.
“Are we going to fight?” Beomgyu says, only half joking. Hueningkai snorts softly, looking out the window. The ferris wheel jolts back to its normal pace for the final half revolution.
“You’re good at keeping secrets, right hyung?”
Beomgyu raises an eyebrow. Most people in their circle would say that he was a blabbermouth, not realizing that his constant chattering was just a way to pad and illuminate the protective space around a dense, absorptive center of quiet.
Beomgyu’s phone chimes, and both of them look down at the muffled, glowing rectangle in his jacket pocket. The attendant pulls the door of the car open, breaking the vacuum and exposing them once again to the neon and noise of the carnival. The sun has set quickly, leaving everything awash with the milky blue of twilight. A sheepish thrill floods through Beomgyu when he checks the notification, and he climbs out first to hide the smile on his face. Hueningkai follows, hands in his pockets. The fog on the window fades completely, leaving behind only two intersecting streaks across the dirty glass.
