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Beomseok was never meant to notice it this much.
He told that himself at least twice a day, usually right after Suho slung an arm around him casually or pulled him by the wrist to cross the street or shifted him gently aside with one broad hand on his hip because “you’re standing where the door swings open, dummy.”
He didn’t mean to notice it, but he always did.
Even in college, even now that they were twenty and should’ve outgrown the impulsive intensity of high school friendships, Suho still touched him the same way. Casually, like it was his second nature to guide Beomseok wherever he wanted him to be.
What unsettled him most was that it always worked.
Beomseok was taller, barely, at 182 cm to Suho’s 180, but Suho was always the one that actually felt solid. The one whose hands could always hold him steady without effort.
And Oh Beomseok hated how much he thought about it. He hated even more how he wanted to think about it.
College was supposed to be a clean slate. New campus, new routines, new people. He’d gotten into the cinematography program, hoping that behind a camera, behind a lens, people wouldn’t expect him to speak or wouldn’t notice him too much.
But Suho noticed him anyway.
Three months into freshman year, Suho showed up at his dorm without warning, hair messy from football practice (he took up football after getting out of the hospital. His doctor said that MMA isn’t suitable for him anymore, so he has to choose a different sport), sweat still drying on his skin.
“I found something you’d want to film.” He said with a grin.
That was how it started. Suho dragging him everywhere like a one-man GPS. From the roof of the science building, to the lakeside path where the team ran drills, to the convenience store at midnight when he demanded ramen as if Beomseok was his own personal human-wallet.
The clinginess would’ve been so much easier to resist if only Suho weren’t so… tactile.
“Beom, switch places.” Suho muttered one morning in the cafeteria. He placed both hands on Beomseok’s waist and simply moved him to the other side of the bench, sliding into the seat beside him.
He wasn’t even thinking about it, because Suho never thought about it.
But Beomseok did, constantly. It made his heart race and his stomach twist and his brain scramble with thoughts he had no business having. It wasn’t right. Couldn’t be right, Suho was-
Well. He was pretty sure Suho was dating Yeon Sieun.
He didn’t ask. He didn’t need to. The way Sieun smiled only with Suho, the way he let Suho ruffle his hair, the way they seemed to fall into the same rhythm, the same wavelength, the same knowing glances. It was obvious. Suho and Sieun made sense in a way he never had with anyone.
And Beomseok… Well.
He was still the one who had put Suho in a hospital bed years ago. Or at least that’s how it lived in his memory. He knew the story was more complicated, but the image of Suho unconscious, pale under fluorescent lights still haunted him. It never left him.
He didn’t get to want things from Suho, he didn’t get to want Suho at all.
So he tried, endlessly, to keep his heart quiet. But it didn’t help.
Not when Suho grabbed the camera bag from his shoulder one handed and carried it like it weighed nothing. Not when Suho tugged him down to sit between his legs on the grass during football timeouts. Not when Suho rested his chin on Beomseok’s shoulder while he edited footage in the media lab, warm breath brushing his ear. Not when Suho always, always pulled him into his orbit like gravity.
“Beom.” Suho complained one evening while they walked back to the dorms. “You walk too far away.”
Beomseok turned. He was only a step apart, maybe two.
Before he could respond, Suho hooked two fingers in the loop of his backpack and reeled him in effortlessly until their arms brushed.
“Better.” Suho said, satisfied and Beomseok swore he could feel his pulse in his teeth.
Why would Suho do that? Why would he touch him so easily? Why would he hold him like that if Sieun was the one that he actually-
The week leading up to Valentine’s Day was annoyingly festive. Paper hearts taped everywhere, couples taking photos near the fountain, a photography club booth offering ‘Valentine’s couple portraits’. Beomseok avoided the quad entirely.
He didn’t need reminders of things he wasn’t meant to have.
He was editing footage alone in the media lab the night before Valentine’s. Everyone else had gone out on dates or parties. The usual.
He’d barely noticed the door open until a familiar voice cut through the quiet.
“There you are.”
Suho.
Of course Suho.
He walked in carrying two hot drinks and a bag of convenience store snacks. His hair was damp from showering after practice, his sports jacket unzipped and his shirt stretching tight across his chest.
“How long have you been here?” Suho asked, frowning.“Not that long.” Beomseok lied.
Suho set the drinks down and leaned over him, bracing one hand on the desk next to the keyboard. Beomseok’s breath caught. Every time Suho boxed him in like that, the room felt ten times hotter.
“You’re gonna burn yourself out.” Suho murmured.
The closeness was unbearable. It made him want too much.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re always saying that.”
“And you’re always nagging.” Beomseok whispered before he could stop himself.
“Maybe I am.” Suho said softly.
He reached out and brushed a thumb across a smudge on Beomseok’s cheek. A tiny gesture, careless and tender all at once. Beomseok’s chest tightened painfully.
“Why are you here?” He managed, voice thin. “Don’t you have plans? With… Sieun?”
Suho blinked, then frowned, then looked at him like he had just spoken in another language.
“Sieun?” Suho said flatly. “Why would I have Valentine’s plans with him?”
Beomseok swallowed. “You two are… close.”
“Yeah. As friends. He’s dating someone from the debate club.”
Oh.
Oh.
The room tilted. And before he could recover, Suho stepped closer, so close Beomseok could feel the warmth of his body through his shirt. Suho reached out and caught his chin gently but firmly, tilting his face up.
“Beomseok.” He said, voice low. “Look at me.”
He did, because Beomseok always did.
Suho’s thumb skimmed the edge of his jaw.
“This whole time… You thought I was dating Sieun?”
Beomseok nodded weakly.
Suho exhaled, almost laughing. Then he shook his head and leaned even closer, forehead nearly touching Beomseok’s.
“I’m not dating Sieun.” He whispered. “I’m into someone else.”
Beomseok’s stomach dropped.
“Oh.” He breathed. “I- I see.”
“You really don’t.” Suho murmured.
His hand slid from Beomseok’s jaw to the back of his neck, guiding him forward with the same ease he always had. Gentle, but strong enough that Beomseok folded into it without resistance, without thought. His breath hitched and Suho’s fingers tightened slightly.
“You know.” Suho said. “For someone taller than me, you’re really easy to pull around.”
A shiver ran down Beomseok’s spine.
“Suho…” He whispered, unsure.
Suho’s eyes softened. “I like it. I like how you fit against me. I like how light you are. I like when we cuddle. I like-”
He stopped, swallowing.
“I like you.” He finished, barely audible. “And I’ve been trying not to scare you off.”
Shock rippled through him. His hands trembled on the edge of the desk.
“You…” Beomseok breathed. “... Like me?”
“I thought it was obvious.”
“It really wasn’t.”
“Well.” Suho said, leaning in until their noses brushed. “Let me make it obvious now.”
His hand slid to cradle the back of Beomseok’s head, thumb stroking his hairline.
“Oh Beomseok.” Suho whispered, voice raw. “Will you be mine Valentine?”
The words hit him harder than any confession he’d ever imagined. He remembered the hospital, the guilt, swearing he would never let himself want something again. Something dangerous.
But Suho wasn’t dangerous.
No, he was warmth. He was home, pulling him close.
“Yes.” Beomseok whispered, the word trembling out of him. “Yes, Suho, I will.”
Suho let out a relieved laugh and pulled him into a tight, grounding hug. Arms strong around his waist, lifting him slightly off the chair like he weighed nothing at all.
Beomseok buried his face against Suho’s shoulder, smiling helplessly.
Maybe, he thought, letting himself melt into the embrace, I am allowed to want this after all.