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It was the fifth of May, 2032. Beomgyu’s wedding day loomed like a heavy curtain. To the public, the headlines would one day read TXT’s Beomgyu, now married, with congratulations spilling across timelines, fans clinging to a fairytale they had no idea wasn’t Soobin’s.
The truth was quieter, heavier. For years, everyone had felt it—the fading warmth between Beomgyu and Soobin, the way “Soogyu” had unraveled into a ghost of itself. They had broken up after a fight so big, so raw, that even remembering it made the air in a room shift. Yet, they stayed side by side on stage, side by side in practice rooms, because of a promise—to the other three, to their company, and maybe, silently, to each other—that their personal wreckage wouldn’t sink the group.
And still, no one could escape the weight.
The night before the wedding, the five of them slept in an Airbnb booked by Beomgyu’s family. It should’ve been warm, familial. It was, except for the way Beomgyu’s parents lit up when they saw Soobin. They never stopped fawning over him. Neither did his aunts, cousins, even distant relatives. Beomgyu had learned not to fight it—he let them laugh with Soobin, let them compliment him, let them remember a version of the world that no longer existed. He just smiled, thin and tired, and excused himself when he couldn’t take it.
By 2 a.m., the Airbnb was hushed. But muffled cries leaked under the bathroom door. Soobin, who’d been lying awake staring at the ceiling, knew instantly.
Beomie.
His chest tightened. He had lived with Beomgyu—just the two of them—for five years. Longer, if you counted the dorms with the others. He knew Beomgyu’s tells, the way he cried like he was trying to erase himself, not wanting to burden anyone with the sound. He knew the rhythm of it, the silence that followed.
He knocked softly. “Gyu?”
The crying stopped.
No answer.
Something in Soobin snapped. He opened the door.
Beomgyu was on the tiled floor, knees pulled up to his chest, face blotchy and wet. He looked up once, startled, then immediately pushed Soobin away—not with words, just with the stiff shake of his shoulders, the desperate glare of someone saying don’t.
But Soobin didn’t move. “Don’t do that,” he said quietly. “Not with me. Not after everything… Just— just leave. Please.”
Beomgyu’s lip trembled. He hated how Soobin always knew exactly what to say, hated how his chest ached with familiarity. “I said leave.” His voice was hoarse, paper-thin.
“I’m not leaving you like this.”
There it was again—that persistence. That terrifying, steady persistence. Soobin crouched, every part of him calm, steady, knowing. He brushed the hair away from Beomgyu’s damp cheek without asking permission. “You don’t have to say anything. Just… let me be here.”
Something cracked. Something he’d been holding shut for years. And suddenly, Beomgyu wasn’t pushing anymore. He wasn’t fighting. He was curling into Soobin’s chest, his face buried in the shirt he used to fall asleep on.
Soobin froze. ‘God, Beomie. After all this time.’ His arms wrapped around the smaller body on instinct, hugging back tightly.
When they pulled apart, their eyes met. And it was like magnets—silent, undeniable, reckless.
They kissed.
It was short, clumsy, lips trembling, hearts hammering so loud the silence felt deafening. They pulled back, half-lidded, stunned.
“This is…” Beomgyu whispered, but couldn’t finish.
Soobin’s thumb traced his jaw. “I know.”
Their mouths collided again—messier this time, lips sucking, tongues sliding, the taste of salt and memory flooding them. Soobin’s hand cupped Beomgyu’s face, grounding him, pulling him closer. Beomgyu shifted, propping himself with one palm against the tiles, body sliding nearer until he was practically straddling Soobin’s lap, knees bracketing his hips.
The air was suffocating, hot, heavy despite the bathroom door being cracked open. If anyone peeked, they’d see everything. That thought should’ve stopped them. It didn’t.
Beomgyu tugged at Soobin’s shirt, pulling it off with shaky fingers. He tried to joke, voice breaking into a laugh. “Still got those rock-hard abs at thirty-two?” His fingers traced lightly down the ridges, teasing, seductive, but with a nervous tremor that betrayed him.
Soobin smirked. “Still staring at them at thirty-one?”
Beomgyu rolled his eyes, cheeks pink, but didn’t stop touching.
The older leaned in, kissing down Beomgyu’s neck, slow at first, then hungrier. His mouth latched to pale skin, sucking hard until a muffled moan slipped out. Beomgyu tilted his head back, eyes fluttering shut, thighs tightening around Soobin’s waist.
“Don’t—” Beomgyu gasped softly, “don’t mark me—”
Soobin bit lightly at his collarbone, hand gripping his ass now, voice low against his skin. “You think I care whose name you’re supposed to say tomorrow?”
That broke him.
Their sweaters hit the floor. Denim and cargos followed, leaving them in nothing but their underwear, skin flushed and damp, chests heaving.
Soobin’s cock strained against the fabric, a wet patch already spreading. Beomgyu noticed instantly, smirking through his haze. “You’re leaking like a teenager.”
Soobin groaned, grinding up deliberately against the heat of Beomgyu’s cunt. The thin fabric separating them was already soaked, every thrust pulling a louder sound from Beomgyu’s throat until one moan slipped free, high and unrestrained, echoing off the tiles.
“Fuck—” Beomgyu clapped a hand over his own mouth, horrified.
Soobin chuckled darkly, breathless. “Careful, Beomie. Someone might hear how much you missed me.”
Beomgyu’s hips rolled helplessly, thighs quivering as Soobin guided him, rocking them together, two fabrics away from a disaster neither of them should be walking into.
‘It feels like we’re twenty-five again,’ Beomgyu thought, dizzy, lips swollen. ‘Like none of it broke. Like none of it ended.’
But it had.
Yet… neither of them stopped.
Soobin’s voice was low, ragged in his ear. “Three years, Beomie. Do you know how fucking hungry I am for you?”
Beomgyu’s nails dug into his shoulders, eyes wet again, this time not from sorrow but from overwhelming need. He couldn’t answer. He didn’t need to. His body betrayed everything.
And Soobin, patient yet ravenous, kept guiding him, starving for every sound, every tremble, every echo of what they used to be.
Soobin’s hands were trembling, though he masked it well. He was the one who peeled Beomgyu out of his clothes first, tugging the sweater over his head, fingers brushing bare skin like he was touching something sacred, not a man he once knew inside and out. Piece by piece, the layers fell away—until there was nothing left but Beomgyu, flushed and bare under the dull bathroom light.
And Soobin just… stared.
Ten seconds, maybe more. His breath hitched, his lips parted slightly, eyes devouring every detail he’d memorized years ago and yet needed to memorize all over again.
Beomgyu shifted uneasily, cheeks heating. “Stop looking at me like that,” he muttered, his hands flying down to cover himself, fingers pressed over his cunt as if shielding it.
The spell shattered. Soobin panicked, hands darting forward, prying those slim fingers away with gentle insistence. “Wait—no, don’t—Beomie, I’m sorry.” His voice cracked, chest heaving. “I didn’t mean to stare too long, it’s just—” He swallowed hard. His eyes softened, a raw sincerity breaking through. “This might be the last time I ever see you like this.”
Beomgyu froze.
The words hit like a punch, stealing the air from his lungs. Tears pricked his eyes before he could stop them. Because he knew—God, he knew—how wrong this was. He was getting married tomorrow. He loved his fiancé. He did. And yet… here he was, sitting bare on the tiles in front of Soobin, the man he had once wanted forever with.
‘It’s wrong. It’s cheating. It’s everything I promised I’d never do—‘
‘But why did this feel more right than anything had in years? Why did Soobin’s gaze, Soobin’s touch, still feel like home?’
His throat tightened, guilt clawing its way up. He wanted to pull away, to bury his face in his knees and make it all vanish. But instead, he found himself trembling in Soobin’s arms, tears welling and falling hot down his cheeks.
“Gyu…” Soobin’s voice was thick, pained, but he didn’t say more. He couldn’t. He just held Beomgyu’s wrists gently, thumb rubbing circles into the soft skin as if to soothe him, as if to say I know. I know this isn’t right, but I can’t let you go, not yet.
Soobin’s own eyes glossed over, moisture pooling, but he blinked fast, hard, refusing to let it fall.
Beomgyu’s chest heaved. ‘What do we do now? Stop? Pretend nothing happened? Or—‘
He looked up at Soobin, voice trembling but firm. “Let’s… just go all the way. And then… we’ll act like nothing happened.” His throat bobbed, the decision strangling him even as he made it. “This’ll be the last time.”
Soobin nodded, a shaky exhale leaving his lips. He didn’t argue, didn’t try to twist the terms. He just accepted. Except—
“Then let me give you one condition,” he said lowly.
Beomgyu’s brows furrowed. “What?”
Soobin’s gaze locked on his, dark and heavy with longing. “…I cum in you.”
The younger’s breath stuttered, a shiver shooting through his body. For a moment, he almost pulled back again, almost said no, this is too far. But the ache between his legs betrayed him, the hunger gnawing at him louder than guilt. He nodded faintly.
Soobin swallowed hard, then finally pushed his boxers down.
Beomgyu’s eyes widened, lips parting in a gasp he tried to cover with his hand. But it didn’t stop the whine that slipped out. “Fuck…” His voice was high, shaky, his thighs pressing together instinctively. “I forgot how—big.”
Lengthy, thick, heavy—the sight alone made his head spin. Memories came rushing back, nights of being stretched open until he cried, mornings waking sore and satisfied. He nearly drooled, his body betraying every hidden longing he thought he had buried years ago.
Soobin smirked faintly, almost shy, but need quickly replaced it. He gripped himself and slapped the thick length against Beomgyu’s bare pussy.
A wet smack.
Beomgyu’s hips jerked, a strangled moan escaping.
Soobin did it again, slower this time, dragging the swollen head up along his folds, catching on his clit before sliding back down. Precum smeared messily against pretty pink skin, mixing with the slick already leaking from him.
Beomgyu bit his lip, face twisting into something sinful as his hips rolled down against the cock teasing him. He rutted slowly, grinding his clit along the thick shaft, the friction dizzying.
His voice cracked, needy. “I-I shouldn’t—” Another roll of his hips cut him off, a sharp whimper tumbling out. His eyes squeezed shut, head falling back. “But God, I missed this so much.”
Soobin’s jaw clenched, his hands gripping Beomgyu’s waist tight but steady. He didn’t thrust up yet, just let Beomgyu rut against him, rubbing himself raw against a cock that didn’t belong to the man he was marrying in less than twelve hours.
Every moan, every gasp, every wet sound in the quiet bathroom felt like a confession neither of them could ever take back.
And still, neither of them stopped.
Beomgyu clung to Soobin’s broad shoulder, nails biting through fabric, as he rocked himself against that thick cock. Every rut sent jolts of heat through his core, and every muffled whimper was swallowed by Soobin’s mouth. Their kiss turned desperate again—wet, open-mouthed, teeth clashing. Soobin steadied Beomgyu’s hips, guiding him in slow grinds, letting him ride against him like he was the only thing keeping him tethered.
Then Beomgyu pulled back, lips red and swollen, panting against Soobin’s cheek. His voice trembled, but the word came out clear—like it hadn’t in years.
“Soob…”
Soobin froze. His eyes flickered, throat tightening at the nickname he hadn’t heard since before everything broke apart.
Beomgyu’s eyes glistened as he whispered, “Put it in.”
Soobin’s chest constricted. He blinked hard, almost like he didn’t believe what he’d heard. “Are you sure? No prep—”
“I think I can take it,” Beomgyu cut in, shaky but determined, hips twitching forward as if to prove it.
Soobin hesitated only a heartbeat, then angled his cock, the thick head nudging against that soaked, trembling entrance. He pushed gently, just enough for the tip to breach.
Beomgyu cried out instantly. The sound was sharp, raw, his body clenching tight. “Ahh—fuck, wait—” His face twisted in pain, thighs trembling. “It’s—too big, it burns—”
Soobin’s heart dropped. He immediately pulled back, hands rubbing soothing circles into Beomgyu’s hips. “Shh, shh… okay, okay, I’ve got you.” He pressed soft kisses along Beomgyu’s jaw, trying to ease him down from the sting. His voice cracked with worry, though he tried to lighten it. “Guess you’ve been used to smaller cocks, huh?”
Beomgyu’s wet eyes flew open, and he smacked Soobin’s shoulder weakly, rolling his eyes through the tears. “Shut up, idiot.”
Soobin chuckled, relief breaking through, and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Let me prep you first. Don’t argue.”
Beomgyu sighed, biting down on his lip, but nodded. “Fine.”
Soobin shifted, guiding him down between his spread legs. Beomgyu leaned back against Soobin’s chest, the thick length pressing hot and heavy along the curve of his back. The sensation alone made him shiver. His legs fell open slowly, thighs trembling with anticipation as he let Soobin take control.
“Good boy,” Soobin murmured, his lips brushing Beomgyu’s shoulder. His fingers slipped down, parting slick folds with practiced ease.
Beomgyu gasped, his head lolling back against Soobin’s shoulder the moment a finger slid inside. “God—” His hand reached back blindly, gripping Soobin’s arm tight, needing the anchor.
Soobin curled his finger just right, the way he always knew, and Beomgyu’s moans spilled out unrestrained, soft and needy.
“Fuck, Soob… I missed this. I missed your fingers—”
Soobin kissed his temple, his own breath growing uneven as he pressed a second finger in, stretching him slow, patient. “You’re still tight, Beomie. You’ll hurt yourself if we rush.”
Beomgyu shuddered, hips rocking into the thrust of Soobin’s hand, every nerve lighting up. He gripped Soobin’s forearm harder, thighs quaking as his moans grew louder, echoing in the cramped bathroom.
Soobin’s fingers worked him open slow, deliberate, as if trying to carve the memory into his skin. One finger had Beomgyu gasping, two had him clutching at Soobin’s arm, and by the time a third slid in, his body was shaking, thighs falling apart helplessly.
“So tight,” Soobin whispered against his temple, voice breaking into a groan. “Still takes me like you were made for it.”
Beomgyu couldn’t answer properly anymore. His head lolled back on Soobin’s shoulder, bangs sticking damp to his forehead, neck glossy with sweat where his hair clung. His chest rose and fell in stuttered breaths, little gasps turning into choked moans as those fingers curled deep. He could barely keep himself upright—his body slouched against Soobin’s larger frame, every muscle going pliant.
Soobin’s free hand found his chest, groping him shamelessly, thumbing over his nipple until Beomgyu whimpered. “Fuck, Beomie,” he murmured between temple kisses, “look at you… all open for me. Sitting here like my little wife when tomorrow you’re walking down an aisle for someone else.”
Beomgyu made a strangled noise, his hands clutching at Soobin’s thighs, his face burning. “Don’t—don’t say it like that.”
Soobin smirked faintly, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Why not? It’s true. Right now you’re mine. Sitting on my lap, moaning on my fingers…”
Beomgyu squeezed his eyes shut, overwhelmed. It wasn’t just the stretch of three fingers moving in and out of him—it was the weight of Soobin’s words, the way they sat heavy in his chest. It’s wrong. It’s so wrong. But God, it feels right.
When Soobin slid in a fourth finger, Beomgyu nearly screamed. His back arched, hair plastering messily to his sweaty neck, every inch of him trembling.
“Soob,” he gasped, voice breaking. “Soob—”
The older stilled instantly, kissing his jaw. “Breathe. You’ve got it. You’re taking me so well.” He curled the fingers deep again, slowly, savoring the slick, hot squeeze. His lips brushed Beomgyu’s damp temple. “Don’t you miss this? Don’t you miss me?”
Beomgyu bit his lip until it hurt, but the moan slipped out anyway. His body answered where his voice couldn’t.
For a moment, the world folded in on itself. There was no wedding tomorrow, no guilt choking him. There was only the nostalgia, the muscle memory, the ache of being twenty-five again and in love with Soobin.
Beomgyu whimpered, guilt and pleasure clashing violently inside him. His nails dug into Soobin’s arm, his tears threatening to spill.
“I can take it,” he whispered hoarsely, more to himself than to Soobin. “I can take you.”
And when Soobin finally pulled his fingers out, guiding him carefully down, Beomgyu sank onto that cock with a choked cry.
It burned—it stretched—it hurt. But this time, the hurt was beautiful, the kind that made his toes curl and his eyes roll back.
“Oh my God—” he sobbed, his body trembling as he took more of him. “Fuck, Soob—it’s so good—it’s so fucking good—”
Soobin’s eyes squeezed shut, head falling back as he groaned, his hands clutching Beomgyu’s hips tight. “Shit, Beomie… you’re squeezing me so fucking tight. ”
At first, it was a mess of gasps and moans, Beomgyu bouncing weakly on him, Soobin guiding every movement with steady hands. Then rhythm found them. Beomgyu’s hips moved faster, his cries louder, while Soobin met every drop with sharp upward thrusts, slamming deep, their bodies colliding in a wet, desperate rhythm.
They kissed in bursts—sloppy, hungry, their mouths finding each other between moans. Other times, Beomgyu slumped into the crook of Soobin’s neck, sobbing into his skin, his arms tight around Soobin’s shoulders.
Soobin’s lips brushed his ear, voice ragged. “Look at you… riding me like you never forgot how. You missed it, didn’t you? You missed my cock stretching you open.”
Beomgyu whimpered, his voice muffled against Soobin’s neck. “I did—I fucking did—”
“Yeah? You thought about it when he touched you, didn’t you?” Soobin’s thrusts grew harsher, his voice breaking. “Thought about how no one fucks you like I do.”
Beomgyu’s tears wet his chest, falling hot as the younger sobbed in earnest. His body still moved, still chased the high, but his heart was cracking.
Because then Soobin’s voice dropped lower, trembling with pain. ”Later, you’ll share your vows with someone else.” His breath hitched. “I’m not the one you’ll spend your life with.”
Beomgyu gasped, his sobs spilling into broken cries.
“I’ll be nothing after this, Beomie. Just a memory. Just someone you bury.”
Beomgyu shook his head desperately, hips still moving, even as his tears fell harder. “Don’t—don’t say that—”
Soobin’s jaw clenched, but his words kept spilling, cracked open by the ache. “Then why? Why couldn’t we make it? Why couldn’t you—” His voice broke, thrusts faltering. “Why couldn’t you come to Ansan? Why did I always go to Daegu? Why wasn’t I worth the trip?”
Beomgyu sobbed harder, the pain of the memory ripping through him. His whole body shook as he gasped, “Because—because I couldn’t, Soob!” He dug his nails into Soobin’s shoulders, words pouring out in raw bursts.
“Because your family—” His voice cracked, anguish strangling him. “Some of them… they tormented me, okay? They called me names, called me abnormal—fucking homophobic shit I couldn’t take—”
His chest heaved, his tears rolling down Soobin’s skin. “I was traumatized. I couldn’t drag you into that. I couldn’t even drag myself.”
Soobin stilled, his breath shattering, his hands clutching Beomgyu’s waist as if holding him together. “Beomie…”
The rhythm slowed, the thrusts turning more tender, more desperate than lustful. Tears blurred both their eyes, but neither stopped. Because in that moment, sex wasn’t sex—it was memory, it was grief, it was two people clawing at what they once had, trying to resurrect it if only for one night.
Beomgyu cried into Soobin’s neck, hips still rising and falling, body giving in even as his heart broke open. “I’m sorry—I’m so sorry—”
Soobin’s lips pressed to his temple, whispering through his own cracked voice, “I know. I know, baby.”
Beomgyu’s thighs trembled, clenching around Soobin’s waist as the air thinned between them. He felt it coming—his whole body wound tight, chest heaving, voice breaking as he buried his face in Soobin’s neck.
“I’m close, Soob…” he whispered, voice cracking, a plea more than a warning.
Soobin’s grip on his hips tightened, his own thrusts losing rhythm, his breathing ragged and uneven against Beomgyu’s ear. “Me too, Beomie… fuck, me too.”
And then it happened—both of them tipping over that edge at the same time, crashing together like waves that had been held back for years. Beomgyu cried out, body arching, nails digging crescent moons into Soobin’s muscled arms as if he were anchoring himself to the only person who’d ever truly held him like this. Soobin’s low, broken moan followed, his body jerking as he spilled inside him, warmth flooding Beomgyu’s cunt, their bodies pressed so close it felt impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.
Beomgyu clung to him desperately, sobbing against his chest, tears soaking into Soobin’s skin as if grief and pleasure were spilling out together. His nails raked down Soobin’s arms, clinging so tightly it almost hurt, as though letting go would mean losing him all over again. Soobin couldn’t hold back either—the sting in his eyes finally breaking into wet trails down his cheeks. They cried into each other, trembling, gasping, their cum leaking warm between Beomgyu’s thighs.
For a moment, it felt like time stopped. The room spun away, and all that existed was this—two broken souls stitched back together for one fleeting night.
But reality always had a way of cutting back in.
Soobin, with a trembling breath, gently shifted, pushing Beomgyu back just enough to see his face. His thumb brushed under Beomgyu’s swollen eyes, tucking damp hair out of his face. He leaned down, pressing the softest peck against his lips—so fond, so painfully tender it almost split Beomgyu open more than the sex had.
“Beomie…” Soobin whispered, voice shredded thin. His palm cupped Beomgyu’s cheek, and Beomgyu leaned into it instinctively, like muscle memory. “I hope… your marriage gives you everything I couldn’t.”
The words pierced. Beomgyu’s breath hitched, and more tears spilled down as he held onto the hand against his cheek, nuzzling into it, pressing his face as if he could merge with it. He didn’t reply—he couldn’t—but his silence said everything. His eyes begged Soobin not to say goodbye.
Soobin blinked hard, forcing himself to keep steady, to take care of him like he always did. He eased them apart gently, pulling on discarded clothes to cover Beomgyu, wiping between his thighs with the care of someone handling glass. His aftercare was still the same—painfully gentle, wordlessly attentive. It had always been like that.
When everything was cleaned, Soobin reached over to the sink, caught the time on his phone. 3:13 a.m. He exhaled shakily, then lifted Beomgyu’s hand to his lips, kissing the back of it with such quiet reverence.
“Happy birthday, Beomie.”
Beomgyu froze, lips parting, then pursed them tight as fresh tears rolled down, silent and heavy. He lunged forward, hugging Soobin again, face buried in his neck, muffling his sobs there. It felt like both a blessing and a curse—that Soobin remembered, that he still loved him like this.
Soobin rubbed circles into his back, kissing the crown of his head before leading them both to the shower. The tile echoed with the sound of water and soft breaths. Soobin was gentle, washing Beomgyu’s body with slow strokes, careful like he had all the time in the world. Beomgyu, between sniffles, found himself lathering Soobin’s hair, fingers weaving through familiar strands. Their eyes met under the steam, and Soobin kissed him—just a soft press, lips lingering, tasting faintly of soap and unshed tears.
When they were done, they towel-dried each other like it was second nature. Like no time had passed. Like no heartbreak had ever split them. Pulling on fresh clothes side by side, the weight of reality returned, pressing on their shoulders—but still, they moved in sync.
Soobin unlocked the door, opening it carefully. But before either could step out, they froze.
Because standing right there in the hallway, eyes wide and jaw slack, was Taehyun—clearly waiting to use the bathroom. His gaze snapped from Beomgyu to Soobin and back again, his eyes practically bulging out of his head.
“The fuck…?” Taehyun’s voice cracked, disbelieving.
“What the fuck?” He repeated, a little sharper this time.
And just like that, the night that was supposed to stay buried threatened to unravel at their feet.