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Their first “I love you” was awkward for Taehyun — awful for Beomgyu.
Beomgyu was the first to say it, naturally. On the corner of a quiet street in the early morning after their third date. The sun hadn’t even risen in the sky yet, only a brief tease of its light peeked over the horizon, between tall skyscrapers in the distance and brick houses and low cement walls within reach. It was under the hazy glow of gray and orange that Beomgyu professed his feelings.
It had come out warm and gentle, the only way Beomgyu knew how to be sincere. It had been a little excitable, maybe a bit giddy, so Taehyun knew Beomgyu was genuine. Their hands were clasped, even as they paused to wait for the crosswalk despite there being no cars in this small pocket of the city this early in the morning. But it was an unspoken understanding that they both wanted to linger.
Maybe the first sign Beomgyu got that his spontaneous confession had been unwelcome was the absence of Taehyun’s slim fingers through his. The second had been his smile. Taehyun’s smile was the kind that was so beautiful, Beomgyu couldn’t help but smile as well when he saw it. His favorite, the one he’d seen on occasion since they started going on these midnight dates, was the smile that allowed him just that brief glimpse of the tips of his teeth without being wide enough to obscure the sparkle in his eyes.
This was not that kind of smile.
Beomgyu wasn’t sure what kind it was. It felt unfamiliar.
The morning air was so still. It was usually Beomgyu’s favorite; it was the kind of silence that was peaceful instead of suffocating. As if the world was presenting him a blank canvas on which he could rest, just for those few heartbeats when the universe was poised on the precipice of a new day. The stillness pressed upon Beomgyu’s skin now, against his cheek, the back of his hands, the soft palm where Taehyun’s hand had pressed instead just a few moments ago.
It wasn’t cold enough for their breaths to linger outside their bodies yet — maybe in a couple of weeks. But Beomgyu could almost swear his declaration was a tangible thing between them. Taehyun’s eyes seemed to be looking at it, considering it before him, because he refused to meet Beomgyu’s. Beomgyu’s eyes were on Taehyun’s face, taking in the minute shifts in his expression. From his unusual smile to unsettled hesitation.
“You don’t have to say it back,” Beomgyu offered, warm and gentle.
It was true. He hadn’t said it because he wanted to hear them from Taehyun. He did want to hear them from Taehyun. But when he’d whispered them breathlessly, between the flow of their conversation, in the pocket of space from one topic to another, he’d said them because he thought it would make Taehyun happy, too. Because it made him happy — that he loved him.
And perhaps that was what was most disappointing. Not that Taehyun didn’t love him — yet, because Beomgyu was nothing if not stubborn or determined. Not that Taehyun wouldn’t offer the words even as a kind lie to appease him. What had crumbled Beomgyu’s spirit, just a little bit, was that Taehyun wasn’t happy with his love.
This time when Taehyun smiled again, it was a familiar one. It was the same one he would give Beomgyu in the hallways between classes; when Beomgyu would greet him enthusiastically, Taehyun would offer him this. Just for him. This smile was just for him. But for the first time, it wasn’t enough.
By the time they reached Beomgyu’s house, the brilliant curve of the sun was visible, a deep purple only just clinging to the edge of the sky. Their hands had found their way together again somewhere after that crosswalk, yet when they parted with hushed goodbyes and tentative kisses, Beomgyu’s hand was freezing cold.
Public confessions have never been Taehyun’s thing — propriety had never been Beomgyu’s. And when Taehyun said “I love you,” he didn’t expect half the school to witness it.
Classes had been shortened for exams and for the lack of patience anyone, including the faculty, had before four weeks of freedom. The sun was obscured behind low clouds, as it commonly was during this time of the year, and the noon light made everything seem faded. The pale gray of their school walls seemed more lackluster than usual, the grass outside was dull and muddy, and Beomgyu was leaving him.
Taehyun had seen him this morning, before homeroom. Beomgyu had fallen asleep with his hair wet last night, studying until late, so his hair was extra fluffy today, its ends curling up in a way that Taehyun couldn’t help but smooth down. Beomgyu was already in his winter uniform, always weak to the cold, and he’d looked impossibly delicate, incredibly handsome.
He’d been thinking about those three words ever since Beomgyu had whispered them to him on the corner of forever. Taehyun would turn them over in his mind late at night, remember the exact way they had sounded, the way Beomgyu’s lips had formed those words, half-smiling, so eager. He would weigh them individually and then together. He even tried them out a few times, in the privacy of his own room, silently mouthing them out to the world, the clouds outside his window his only witness.
Love wasn’t something to take lightly. “I love you” wasn’t something to be said on a whim. And so Taehyun studied it like he did almost everything else in his life except that one time a “yes” had come unbidden to his lips when a certain glittering boy had asked him out. He searched up love confessions — tried to parse through how he knew it was love and not like and not fondness and not infatuation. Because he was all those things with Beomgyu already.
He read about hearts skipping beats and the giddiness of eyes meeting and the electricity that skittered under the skin at light touches. Taehyun tried to think whether he experienced them with Beomgyu, yes. He tried to think whether all these small things could really equate to something as life-changing as love, (yes).
But it wasn’t until the day before their winter break, as Taehyun sat by the window glancing outside at the dreary day after turning his test over twenty minutes ago, as the final bell of the day rang, was he struck so fully by the realization. Because he had just spotted a familiar, tall figure with a mop of unruly dark hair making his way down the front steps of the school and toward the bricked walls that led to the street.
He was leaving.
As he said he would this morning, right after his exams, because he had a train to catch. Without him. Without Taehyun.
Without Beomgyu. He couldn’t let him take one more step.
It wasn’t like he didn’t know what he was doing — Taehyun always knew. Very rarely did he allow his senses to be overcome, never did he lose his sense of self except perhaps that one time he’d been tucked away between familiar arms that preceded the best night of sleep in his entire life. He figured, if he was so sure, if he was going to do it, he might as well do it.
Taehyun reached up to unclick the lock on the window, and swiftly slid it back before the teacher could even register his movement, let alone ask him to stop. A swift chill skimmed across his shoulders and his cheeks, the heat of the sun faltering under the sweeping inevitability of winter. He breathed in a lungful of frigid air, and expelled all his breath: “Choi Beomgyu! I love you!” It wasn’t gentle like Beomgyu’s, but it was warm.
Giggles erupted around the classroom; heads in front of the school and even a few walking on the street turned. Taehyun could tell he’d startled his boyfriend. If his abrupt stop and the immediate swiveling of his head was any indication. Dark eyes caught his and even at this distance, Taehyun could read the disbelief on Beomgyu’s face. He was the sort who wore his heart on his sleeve — even when he feigned happiness, even when he pretended he was annoyed, his features were helpless to reveal the truth.
Beomgyu puffed out his chest, screaming at the top of his lungs to unleash a scratchy, raucous noise, “I love you, too!”
And Taehyun smiled. An all-consuming, wide, teeth-showing smile. Before a hand came down on his desk along with a brisk reprimand in the form of his name and the immediate closing of the window. Taehyun felt breathless; he felt alive. And even though Beomgyu was still leaving, was now turning back around after doubling over laughing at Taehyun getting into trouble — Taehyun’s heart was beating so fast, he was giddy. So he knew it was real.