Love Language ||Yeongyu/Beomjun FF||

A Few Days Later

The mansion felt quieter now. But not in the hollow, empty way it had before.

More like the quiet after a storm.

The new guards were gone. Minho had handled it. Clean and fast. Lee Joon's betrayal had shaken the house to its core, but no one questioned the consequences. Not in this world.

Yeonjun hadn't gone out since that night.

He stayed.

With me.

He still bled sometimes. From the memories. From the truths I hadn't known. But he bled less now when I was close.

I started to notice it.

One Afternoon

He stood in the training room, dressed down in all black, sleeves rolled, eyes focused on the row of throwing knives lined up on the counter.

I watched from the doorway.

He noticed me after the second throw. It missed the mark by two inches.

"Want to try?" he asked.

It was careful. Like he'd been waiting for me to come to him.

I walked inside.

I didn't nod. Didn't sign.

Just stepped up beside him and picked up one of the blades.

It was heavier than I expected. Cold. Real.

Yeonjun came behind me, adjusting my grip gently. Not overbearing. Just present.

"Thumb here," he murmured, guiding my hand. "Balance the weight. Let your wrist flick."

His breath brushed my shoulder. I could smell coffee on his skin.

"You don't have to be strong to protect yourself. You just have to be precise."

I stared at the wall. At the target.

And I threw.

It didn't stick.

But it hit the board.

Yeonjun smiled, proud in a quiet way.

"Again?"

I nodded.

Later That Night

We sat in his office. No guards. No cameras. Just us.

He pulled a thick file folder from the drawer and placed it between us.

It was labeled in red marker: "MBLAQ."

I looked up.

"That's the name of the group Lee Joon was working for," he explained. "They're old money and older power. International. Hidden in plain sight."

He flipped through the pages—photos, ciphers, maps. His fingers were steady, but his voice was soft.

"They've been trying to breach my network for years. And now that you're here, they'll come again. I won't hide that from you anymore."

I stared at the page.

A name caught my eye.

Moon Yejin.

My old psych professor.

My stomach dropped.

Yeonjun noticed.

"You know her?"

I signed slowly.

"She was the one who tried to pull me out of my father's custody."

Yeonjun's expression shifted.

Sharp. Focused. Protective.

"I'll look into it. Thoroughly."

I nodded, but I couldn't look away from the paper.

The world I'd stepped into wasn't just Yeonjun's anymore.

It was mine now, too.

BEOMGYU'S NOTE TO HIMSELF – Unsent, in Notes App

Maybe I'm not a soldier. Maybe I never will be. But I don't need a voice to be heard. And I don't need armor to stand beside him. I just need to keep learning. And keep holding the match.