Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

☾

Riki was seven years old on a chilly Autumn afternoon, when he first learned what it felt like to have a friend. 

He’d heard the other kids in his class claim each other as such: lunchtime and swing set buddies, first picks for recess games and partner work in class, even sleepovers and going to the park to play after school. He’d seen it on the TV: friendship bracelets and matching t-shirts, walkie-talkies and scrapbook kits, other things that came in sets of two. Secret languages, secret hideouts and secrets kept. 

None of this had ever applied to him. No one had ever seemed very interested in being his friend, and really, he’d never known how to go about trying to make one himself. So, he would just sit at his desk in class and try his best to understand everything his teacher talked about—try to keep up with the other kids who had parents that actually helped them with their homework. He would sit in the library at his after-school group and trudge through his spelling worksheets while other kids would read together or play the board games the school library offered (which, he had found, were only any fun if you had another person to play with.)

He would sit alone as he finally rode the last bus home for the day, unaware of the pitying glance of the bus driver as he would get off alone at his stop in his neighborhood. Unfazed as he would walk alone down the cracked sidewalks, past dilapidated houses and old worn-down trailers, fenced-off yards and barred-up windows. Unable to read the graffiti splattered through on road signs and various abandoned buildings. Unenthused as he would walk through the dead grass of the yard as he reached his own home, fishing his key from his backpack and making sure to double lock the door behind him. 

He would eat alone, watch TV alone, and go to sleep alone. Riki knew, however, that this was preferable to the alternative, and besides, he’d gotten used to it by now. He was just fine alone. 

Until this day, this windy day in September, someone suddenly joined him on the edge of the playground asphalt, where he’d been occupying his recess time with watching a group of other kids play freeze tag and picking at the few remaining dandelions in the grass. 

“Why are you hurting the flowers?”

Riki snapped his head up, eyes wide, as he let the weed fall from his fingers at the sound of a high, ringing voice directed at him. 

It was a boy, a little taller than him, with dark hair that fell into a shabby, slightly overgrown bowl-cut just barely shorter than Riki's own, and big, shiny eyes that were aimed down at Riki like laser beams. After a second of silent staring, Riki realized he did recognize the boy—he was the new kid. He’d shown up in his class that morning, the teacher introducing him with more fanfare than Riki had thought necessary before assigning him to a leftover seat near the back. Riki had to sit up front so that he could at least sort of read the board, so he hadn’t really interacted with the boy, until now. 

“I’m not,” Riki muttered, awkward, not used to having someone his own age initiating conversation with him. 

“You are. I watched you, just now.”

“Can’t hurt flowers, they can’t feel nothin’. They’re plants,” he argued, blinking. 

“Can too. Living things have feelings, and plants are living, too, you know,” the boy huffed, hands on his hips, and Riki frowned, growing annoyed. The new kid was kind of snotty.

“Whatever,” he mumbled, looking back down as he picked up the plucked dandelion, fiddling with the soft petals, his fingers becoming stained with the yellow powdery residue. 

He continued to ignore the boy, but he didn’t leave like Riki expected him to. After a moment, Riki heard the boy let out a sigh before plopping down in front of him on the dewy grass. He sat criss-cross-applesauce, resting his elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands as he stared Riki down. 

“Why aren’t ya playing tag with them?” he asked, and Riki glanced up from the dandelion for just a second. 

“Why ain’t you,” he retorted with a pout, plucking another wilted yellow petal and letting it fall. 

“Freeze tag is boring. I wanna swing, but they’re all taken,” the boy complained, crossing his arms as he hunched forward.

“The third-graders always hog the swings,” Riki nodded knowingly, his gaze growing wary and his muscles growing stiff as the boy suddenly scooted closer to him, allowing their knees to touch.

“They are! It’s so unfair! Didn’t no one ever teach ‘em to share?” the boy whined, his eyes sparkling at their apparent shared plight. Riki shrugged; the new kid would learn how things worked around here soon enough. Third-graders got out to recess right before them, so they had first dibs to the swings. Once they got called to line up, the second-graders had fifteen minutes left to fight over spots on the swings, and Riki found it was hardly worth it to deal with the whiny complaining of the girls that always waited to be able to swing. 

“You should go talk to them girls over there, Lisa and Rosie and Marie. They always get to swing at the end of recess, maybe they’ll let you swing with ‘em, since you’re new.”

The boy looked over curiously, before turning back to Riki, humming.

“No, I think I’ll just hang out with you. Your name is Riki, right?”

Riki blinked again, not at all expecting the boy to know his name, plucking a few more petals.

“Yeah.”

“Nice to meet you, Riki! My name’s Sunoo. Like sunshine!” 

“Suh-new,” Riki repeated with a tiny nod—not catching the way the boy’s nose scrunched a little at his twangy, accented pronunciation, as he kept his eyes focused on the dandelion in his hand. 

“We just moved here ‘cuz my mom got a new job!” Sunoo said, stretching his legs out into a V as he scooted even closer, collecting each of the dandelion petals into a tiny pile as Riki discarded them. “This school is bigger than my old one. There’s more people, and there’s lots of hallways. I got lost the other day. But then! A older kid showed me how to get to my class, and he told me he got lost too when he was younger, and so then I didn’t feel so stupid. Do you ever get lost, Riki?”

Riki shook his head. He’d been going to this school since he was in kindergarten. Getting lost was for new kids, and kindergarten babies.

“Oh, good! That means I can stick with you, and then I won’t get lost!”

Another few petals down, and Sunoo dutifully collected them into his neat little pile.

“How old are you, Riki?”

“Seven.”

“I just turned eight over summer break! I would be in the third grade this year but I had to go to kindergarten twice. I got reaaally sick the first time and missed loottts of school!” Sunoo flung his arms out, as if to show how much. “I even had to go to the hospital, and there was Nurse Sally, and she always brought me candy—,”

Sunoo rambled on and on, hardly taking breaks to breathe as he told story after story, his pile of dandelion petals growing as Riki worked to pluck them, the two of them making quite the team. Eventually, the bell rang, the teachers calling for line up, and Sunoo quickly gathered all the petals up into his pocket. 

“I’ll take care of them, don’t worry. Do you go to Afterschool?” 

Riki nodded as they lined up together, on their class’s line marks, which was red circles. 

“Me too! We can decide what to do with them then, ‘kay?”

He nodded again, and Sunoo clicked his tongue. 

“Don’t talk much, do ya? You shy or something? That’s okay. I can talk enough for both of us!”

Riki snorted, and Sunoo smiled proudly at his success at making Riki laugh.

“So, wanna be friends, Riki?” Sunoo asked, as they headed inside, and Riki bit his lip.

“...Dunno how. Ain’t never had no friend before.”

“Oh. Well, I’ll definitely be your friend, then!” 

“O-okay.”

“Yay! We’ll have lots of fun together. I know it!”

Riki simply nodded once more, butterflies in his tummy as Sunoo linked their arms together.

Maybe making a friend was easier than he thought.

☀

Sunoo was eight years old on a crisp Autumn morning, when he first realized that his new best friend was a terrible liar.

“Why weren’t you at school on Friday, Mister? I waited for you all morning ‘til the bell rang! And it was pizza day for lunch, and you missed it!” Sunoo huffed as Riki slowly hobbled up to him at their bus stop, huddled in his thin, too-small threadbare jacket. 

Friday pizza day was the only day of the week Riki ever bought the school lunch—the younger would practically bounce his way down the lunch line alongside Sunoo, his hands shaking the tray the lunch lady handed him from his excitement, and then he would hand over a couple crumpled-up dollar bills and coins to the lady that rang them up with the puppy-doggiest eyes Sunoo thinks he’s ever seen.

And then he would tear into the cardboard-like rectangle of sauce and probably-fake cheese as if it were the best thing he’d ever tasted.

The younger boy missing out on it was unthinkable, to say the least, and Sunoo expected a decent explanation.

“Was sick.”

“You don’t look sick,” Sunoo looked him over, looking for signs of any illness. Which was hard, because Riki stayed curled into himself, face half-covered by his ratty, holey scarf.

“Feel better today.”

“Hmph,” Sunoo let it go as the bus pulled up, and he led the younger boy up the steps and to Their Seat near the back, just in front of the group of older kids that shared their neighborhood’s stop. They always gave him and Riki dirty looks for sitting so close, but Sunoo didn't care. It beat sitting too close near the bus driver, or the group of girls that got on at the next stop who were always super loud with their high-pitched squealing over their magazines, or one of their flip phones, or—anything, really.

“Well, I hope so. Because guess what—I promised to trade some Pokemon cards I found at the park the other day with some third-grader so that we could have spots on the swings!”

“Oh. Cool.”

“What’s the matter with you? Thought you said you were feeling better?” 

“Couldn’t sleep ‘cuz of the tummy ache. Still hurts a li’l.”

Sunoo sat back in his seat, his enthusiasm killed just a bit. Riki wouldn’t be able to swing if his stomach was upset.

“Well, hopefully you feel better before recess.”

“Mmh.”

Sunoo peeked at the other boy out of the corner of his eye, watching as he rubbed at his upper arm, trying to be subtle about it. He hissed through his teeth, sounding pained, and as he looked to see if Sunoo saw, he quickly moved his hands to his stomach before turning away. 

He knew what lying looked like. His mom lied all the time, his dad used to before he went away, and so did the counselor that he has to talk to at school once a week even though she says she doesn't. And he did, too. He lied to everyone. Even Riki. It was just the way it had to be.

But now Riki was lying to him, and he didn’t like it one bit, so maybe he would have to think about that. 

He didn’t say another word to the younger even after they got to school, and Riki—well, he didn’t ever talk too much anyway, so it was hard to tell if Riki was returning the silent treatment or not. It was hard to pay attention to Mrs. Brown that day, because Riki sat in a seat up front right in front of the chalkboard, and Sunoo kept getting distracted by the way the younger squirmed in his seat, keeping his head ducked whenever possible.

And when Mrs. Brown called on Riki to answer a math question, Sunoo caught the way her eyes widened just slightly when Riki looked up at her reluctantly. She didn’t say anything, but nodded and praised him when he answered correctly—and later, as they lined up for lunch, he watched closely as she called Riki over to her desk for a second, and squinted at the way Riki shook his head fervently before telling her something. 

He figured out what she’d seen once Riki sat down beside him at their lunch table, with one of the peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches the lunch ladies gave out when someone couldn't buy a hot lunch. 

“How’d that happen?” he frowned, pointing at the bruise that bloomed green and purple across the lower half of Riki’s left cheek, down to his chin, the corner of his bottom lip a bit puffy around a scab. The younger tore the wrapping off the sandwich eagerly and took a bite before bothering to answer.

“Fell down the stairs,” Riki mumbled around his sandwich, chewing and swallowing each bite so quickly that Sunoo worried he might choke.

His shirt sleeves rode up a bit as he reached out for his milk, and Sunoo didn’t think that stairs could make bruises shaped like the ones wrapped around Riki’s tiny wrists. 

He didn’t say anything about it, though, rolling his tongue nervously behind his teeth as he watched Riki scarf down the last bit of his sandwich before chugging the rest of his milk, wiping his mouth with his too-short shirt sleeve. 

Sunoo poked his plastic fork into his mashed potatoes, slowly mixing his corn into them. As he took a bite, he looked over again at Riki, who’d hunched back over now that he had no food to focus his attention on, fiddling with the plastic wrap that had covered the frankly pathetic sandwich. 

He would know; he’s had to eat them plenty of times, before, whenever his mom would forget to pay his school lunch fee, or to at least leave him money to do so himself whenever she went away for days at a time. The bread was always stale, and soggy from the jelly that was super watery, and the peanut butter always left a strange, almost chalky aftertaste. Combined with the fat-free plain milk that came with it, it was almost better to not eat at all.

Except, Sunoo doesn’t think Riki could feel the same way. The younger was so small, compared to the rest of their class, practically skin and bones. Any time he had food placed in front of him he ate like a kid possessed, barely cognizant of anything around him until he’d eaten every bite, as if afraid the food would spontaneously disappear if he didn’t eat fast enough.

“You can have my chicken nuggets if you’re still hungry,” he offered around another bite of potatoes, and when Riki nodded ferociously, Sunoo waved his fork at his tray. “Go on, then.”

Riki scooped the nuggets out of their place on Sunoo’s tray, hurriedly tucking into them before Sunoo could change his mind. Sunoo just looked away, focusing out the cafeteria window, watching the wind blow the leaves of the trees in the distance.

“Guess your stomach feels better, huh?”

Riki let out a confused little noise beside him, and Sunoo shook his head. 

He'd have to teach Riki how to keep his lies straight, if he was gonna be going around telling stories to people like this.

"Nothin'. Just eat—not so fast, jeez, you're gonna make yourself throw up!"

Riki looked up at him with big eyes, cheeks puffed as he chewed the nugget he'd just shoved into his mouth whole.

"I never ate chicken nuggets b’fore, Suh-new. I like 'em."

Sunoo watched the younger devour the rest of the nuggets, his own stomach and his heart feeling funny at the sight. Like the way he felt whenever Bambi's mom died, or when Simba got caught in the stampede with Mufasa. Or when his mom would leave without telling him when she’d be back.

Sad, but a little scared at the same time; knowing, but wishing he didn’t.

He barely wanted to finish the rest of his own food, but he did so, knowing next week he might have to deal with the gross sandwiches, so he should take the good food while he could get it. He should start making his own money for lunch, somehow—maybe he could make enough for him and Riki both, and Riki wouldn't ever have to be so hungry anymore.

"Come on, Riki, they're opening the door up—we gotta get to the swings so I can get us our spots!"

Riki followed behind him wordlessly as he hurried over to drop his tray off at the kitchen window, giving the lunch lady taking the trays a toothy grin before pulling Riki outside, nearly skipping towards the swings. He dug the cards from his pocket and waved them eagerly as they reached the wood-chipped area, whooping as the third-grader hopped off his swing, pulling his friend off along with him as he grabbed the cards from Sunoo’s hand with a snicker and a mumbled “suckers”.

Sunoo could not care less about losing the shiny, reflective cards, quickly hopping up onto a swing and waiting for Riki to join him on the one beside him before pushing off, welcoming the burn in his thighs as he tried to swing up as high as he could—high enough to see the top of the roof of the school, even to see past it, over to the front circle drive. So high up that it felt like he could swing himself around the top bar of the swing set. He relished in the wind blowing through his hair and the sun on his face as he closed his eyes, imagining that he was flying for real. That he was weightless—that he could go anywhere he wanted. That he was finally free. That nothing below him even mattered anymore. 

Until he happened to glance down at the younger boy beside him, who kicked along a bit pitifully, barely gaining any air as he stared at the wood chips below his feet, and through the wind in his ears, Sunoo thinks he heard a sniffle.

He let his heels drag on his next downward swing, pulling him to an abrupt stop that made his stomach swoop a little, and he stared at Riki.

“What’s wrong, don’t you know how to swing?” he asked, frowning.

Riki nodded, but sniffled again, wiping his nose with his sleeve.

“...Hurts. My arm. And my leg.”

Sunoo’s frown deepened, and before he really noticed what he was doing, he stood up, pulling Riki’s slow swing to a stop by the chain link. 

“Stop kickin’, then, so that I can push you.”

He gave the younger boy a few good pushes, ignoring the burning in his own upper arms, until Riki had a good momentum going—then he settled off to the side, just close enough that he could give Riki a quick extra push here and there as he swung past. 

“Can you see over the roof, Riki?” he hollered once Riki got high up enough, and the giggle that zoomed past him when the boy swung back behind him overrode the sound of the boy’s earlier sniffling, and the smile that lit up his friend’s face as he swung past again with an affirmative whoop made Sunoo feel as if he was still swinging himself. His own seat had quickly been stolen, but he could hardly bring himself to care.

Because Riki’s eyes were shining like the sunlight, and his laugh whistled like the wind, so Sunoo still felt just as free as he had a moment ago in the air—maybe even more so.

☾

Riki had just barely turned eight years old, and the first day of winter break was upon them, when he was invited to his first sleepover.

“Come on, it’ll be like a birthday party, since you didn’t have one! Can’t believe you didn’t even tell me when it was your birthday, now I gotta get you a late present—,”

He hunched over in the bus seat as Sunoo rambled on beside him, unsure how to explain that he’d just never had reason to care about a birthday. No one seemed to make much fuss of it before Sunoo, really. 

Most days, Riki wished he’d never even been born in the first place.

“I don’t think my parents would let me,” he finally mumbled, fidgeting with the broken zipper on his backpack. He’d heard other kids say this, so he figured it would work as an excuse. Couldn’t do nothin’ if your parents said no, right? This was ignoring the fact that he wasn’t exactly positive his parents would even notice if he disappeared for a night, but Sunoo didn’t know that.

Apparently, Sunoo didn’t care much about the parent thing at all, actually.

“So? Just sneak out,” he huffed, grabbing his own backpack as they reached their stop. “I do it all the time.”

“What if your parents tell on us to my parents?” Riki asked nervously as they hopped off the bus, stepping aside to lean up against the stop sign as they let other kids pass by them, seemingly eager to get home—or wherever else they were going.

“My mom won’t tell—she don’t care,” Sunoo scoffed with a roll of his eyes, and while Riki found that a bit hard to believe, the idea of staying the night with his best friend instead of at his own home was too tempting. “Besides, she won’t even be home later tonight. She works at night on Thursdays and goes right to sleep when she gets home, she won't even know.”

“...Okay,” he gave in, tucking his face into his scarf to try and fight the chill of the December wind, wincing as Sunoo squealed in delight, pulling Riki along the sidewalk.

“We’re gonna have so much fun! We can have pizza and soda, and then we can play Uno—ooh, or Monopoly! Do you know how to play Monopoly? No? Oh, I can teach you, it’s not that hard—and, and then, we can play video games, in the living room on the bigger TV since we got it aallll to ourselves! I have a Gamecube—you never played no video games? Well, I got Mario Party, it’s fun, you’ll get the hang of it—and then, we can make friendship bracelets—no, Riki, they aren’t just for girls—I’ve even got glow in the dark beads! And then—”

Sunoo seemed to have a never ending list of things for them to do, most of which Riki felt relatively indifferent about, curious at best for some—but the promise of pizza had quickly won him over.

They eventually stopped in front of an old double-wide trailer home, some of the wood paneling rotting on the sides, the dead grass of the unkempt yard terribly overgrown, bare in some spots. A rusted clunker of a car sat in the driveway, random bits of junk scattered along the yard. Sunoo made no mention of any of it, leaning up against the colorfully painted, but crooked mailbox. 

“You live just on down the road, and ‘round the corner, on Cherry Street, don’t ya?” the older boy asked, his lips pursed. Riki nodded, holding on tight to the one good strap of his backpack, wondering how Sunoo remembered such things. He only ever mentioned his street name once in class, for some sort of project or another, but Sunoo never forgot anything, it felt like.

“Alright—you sneak out and wait for me outside, and I’ll come get you—once it starts getting dark, ‘kay?”

Riki nodded again, and Sunoo smiled big enough to show the spot where he’d lost a baby tooth recently. He patted Riki’s cheek before waving bye, bounding up his loose, creaking porch steps and giving Riki one last smile before going inside. 

He kicked a small, broken piece of concrete along the sidewalk, his tummy starting to feel sour as he turned the corner, his own small house coming into view. His dad’s rusty pickup truck was in the driveway, which made him hesitate, his grip on his bag strap tightening.

So much for his plan of just being able to leave the house with no one there to stop him.

The door was left slightly ajar, loose on its hinges. Riki was careful to be quiet when he shut and locked it behind him, debating.

Should he just make a beeline for his room, take the chance that maybe he just wouldn’t be bothered? Or should he risk trying to scrounge up something to eat? A crash from the kitchen, the sound of breaking glass and his dad yelling over his mom’s screaming answered that for him; he rushed to his room on shaky legs, passing the kitchen quickly and closing his door behind him. 

His room wasn’t much, but he had a small closet that he could fit way back into, and it was too small for his dad to be able to reach into it all the way to be able to grab him. It was his go-to hiding spot, and really, it was pretty comfortable to sleep in. 

Today, though, it seemed Riki wasn’t his dad’s target, as he could still hear the screaming match raging on outside his door, neither adult seeming to notice or care that he’d gotten home.

“No fuckin’ respect—I break my back tryin’ to make money for this family, and this is what you fuckin’ spend it on—,”

“Don’t try to act like you’re any better than me, motherfucker! Like you ain’t at the fucking bar damn near every night!”

“With my fuckin’ money, bitch!”

“I don’t need your fucking money! I get my shit on my own—,”

“Whoring yourself out for fuckin’ drugs, mother of the fuckin’ year—,”

“Oh, don’t bring the Goddamn kid into this—and as if you’re such a stand-up father!”

“I never even wanted no fuckin’ kid in the first place—you’re the one who wouldn’t get rid of it when you had the chance! Now look at you, shootin’ up at the fuckin’ kitchen table—bet you regret that shit now, huh?"

Riki covered his ears with the palms of his hands, though it didn’t block much out, whispering twinkle twinkle little star and the Spongebob theme song under his breath to ignore the arguing. It was most of the same stuff he’d already heard them yell about a million times—the words weren’t anything much to him, by now. No, it was the glass breaking and the harsh thumping against the walls, echoes of fists hitting flesh and unintelligible cursing and hoarse screams from his mom that set him on edge. 

Eventually, with the slam of the front door, it grew quiet. He sat in the closet for a good while, just in case, before deeming it safe to come out. He didn’t dare leave his room. It wasn’t worth the risk—besides, Sunoo said they would eat pizza at his house, so he could be hungry for a little while longer. He’d gone much longer without any food before.

His dad never showed back up, and once dusk arrived, the sunset leaving the winter sky glowing orangey-gold and pink, he grabbed his bag and tip-toed out of his room.

Keeping his steps light, he snuck past his mom passed out and snoring on the couch, beer cans and dirty ash trays as well as a needle or two littering the coffee table. Riki let out a deep breath once he made it outside, coughing out the stench of stale smoke. 

It had begun to snow lightly, and his coat was old, a little too small on him, now—but he felt warmer when he finally saw Sunoo coming down the sidewalk, hopping over the cracks and swinging his glittery Hello Kitty keychain around his finger, waving eagerly once he noticed Riki sitting on the edge of his driveway.

Warm, as they made their way back to Sunoo’s house, hand in hand.

☀

Sunoo turned nine years old on a rainy summer day, the first time he ever actually asked his mother for permission to have Riki over at his house. 

“I don’t know this kid from Adam, or his parents—I’m not letting some random hooligan-ass child stay in this house, Sunoo Kim—,”

“He isn’t, Mom, he never gets in trouble at school, and he’s quieter than me!”

“Well, that’s not very damn hard to accomplish—,”

“Please, please!?” Sunoo whined, “if Riki can spend the weekend here, then, then we don’t even have to do my birthday party! You can, you can return whatever present you got me, even—,”

“I already paid for the damn community building slot, they won’t refund me this late,” his mom sighed harshly, pinching the bridge of her nose, and Sunoo deflated, realizing he may have been fighting a losing battle. He had to pull out the big guns.

“I’ll give you all my chore money! And the money I got from selling bracelets and gel pens at school—,”

“You did what—,”

“Please?” Sunoo clasped his hands tight, his eyes watering on command.

“Fine, then—no party, I’m returning your present to pay for the damn building, and no money for chores ‘til school starts. And if that kid fucks with anything, breaks anything, steals anything—you aren’t gonna be able to sit for a week.”

“Thank you! Yes! He won’t do nothin’, promise! Thank you!”

“Yeah, uh-huh. Eat your damn dinner, now, and go to your room—I’ve got company tonight,” his mom snapped, taking a long drag of her cigarette as she gestured towards Sunoo’s plate, her legs crossed as she leaned back in the wooden chair, staring out the tiny kitchen window.

“Not Dave again—,” Sunoo scrunched his nose as he took a big bite of his spaghetti, hunching over with a pout when his mom glared at him.

“None of your damn business who it is—my damn house, I decide who’s in it, you little shit.”

Sunoo waited until she turned away from him to blow out her cigarette smoke to roll his eyes. His mom had never failed to have a string of random men brought around to the house ever since his dad had left them, but Dave was extra annoying, because he always tried to talk to Sunoo. The other men always ignored his existence, which he preferred. 

He did his best to put up with it with very little attitude, that night, though—lest his mom retract her agreement to having Riki spend the weekend there. He came out to the living room when his mom called him to, sat beside Dave on the couch when he patted the cushion, answered all the questions about school and his friends and what he wanted to be when he grew up—all the nonsense he normally did his best to avoid. He sat through a few episodes of whatever was on the TV, keeping his expression blank when his mom bragged to Dave about how she and him always did some mother-son bonding time like this, keeping the snarl off his face when Dave patted him on the head condescendingly. 

Eventually, his mom gave him the look which meant it was time for him to go to his room and not come out for the rest of the night. Sunoo took his leave gladly, shutting his bedroom door and immediately turning on his radio, not wanting to have to hear a single bit of the adults grossly flirting and the other nasty stuff he’d had to hear, before.

He focused instead on writing out his list of activities for him and Riki to do during their weekend extravaganza while he hummed along to each song—pizza would be ordered, for sure, sometimes Sunoo thinks Riki likes pizza more than he likes him—video games, for a bit, but Riki owed him a rematch in Monopoly (he suspects cheating). Hopefully, it would stay sunny and hot one of the days, so they could play with the hose and sprinkler out in the backyard (until his mom catches them and complains about their water bill). He promised Riki he’d teach him how to ride a bike, too—his own bike was older and rusting, and one of the pedals kept falling off, and honestly, he was getting a little too big for him to ride it comfortably, but Riki would probably still fit on it fine. 

And when his mom went to work on Saturday night, they would be sneaking out—down to the creek back out behind the trailers, where Sunoo’s special hideout was. He never told anyone about it before, except Riki, and the younger said he wanted to see (he didn’t tell him about the sneaking out part, yet, but Sunoo knew he could convince him. He always did, in the end).

He could barely contain his excitement the next few days, gladly handing over his gel pen and bracelet business money to his mom as she called Riki’s house on Friday, putting on her “nice voice” to whichever of Riki’s parents she’d gotten ahold of with the number Sunoo had gotten from Riki.

As soon as she hung up, though, the smile fell from Sunoo’s face as she turned to him with a sharp glare.

“Kid’s mother sounds like a fuckin’ tweaker. I swear to God, Sunoo, this kid better fuckin’ behave—,”

“He will! He’s not—tweaky!” Sunoo stomped his foot, biting his lip when his mom laughed harshly at his word choice, not understanding what was so funny.

“‘Course not. Better go on out there and wait for him, she said he’ll walk here—how does he even know where to go—,”

“He walks past here all the time after school,” Sunoo rushed out, his voice a bit squeaky. 

“Right, right—well go on and wait for him then, so he don’t pass the house up, I'm not getting blamed for a lost kid.”

Sunoo did so, bouncing on his toes as he saw Riki walking down the sidewalk, jumping down the stairs as the younger boy headed up the drive. He just barely registered through his excitement the way Riki flinched harshly at his sudden grabbing for the boy’s hands, pulling him up the porch steps quickly.

"Oh my God, we're gonna have so much fun—I can't believe you're really gonna stay all weekend—we have so much to do—I can't wait to show you—oh, watch out right there, that board is real loose, don’t fall—,"

Riki stayed quiet as they headed inside, seemingly content with Sunoo's exuberant rambling, humming in agreement here and there. But when Sunoo led him to the kitchen, Riki stopped behind him when he noticed his mom there, hiding behind Sunoo slightly.

"Riki, this is my mom—Mom, this is Riki," he rushed out the obligatory introduction, before putting on his best pout. "Riki says he didn't eat supper yet—can we get pizza? Pretty please?"

He could see the way his mom's fake-nice expression fell ever so slightly, as she squinted at the boy peeking out from behind Sunoo.

"Your folks didn't feed you?" she clicked her tongue, "knowing damn well that I gotta pay to feed you this whole weekend?"

Sunoo felt Riki tuck his face into his shoulder blade, and suddenly he felt really guilty for trying to use Riki as bait for the pizza. To be fair, he'd assumed his mom would've been easier on the younger boy than himself.

"No," Riki mumbled simply, not quite realizing the question wasn't actually requiring an answer—and Sunoo made a note to teach Riki a bit about dealing with grown-up's talk.

His mom sighed, mumbling to herself under her breath and grabbing the landline on the wall with more force than necessary, dialing up the pizza delivery number—Sunoo knew immediately since he had it memorized by now.

He took that as a win, quickly ushering Riki back towards his bedroom before the younger said anything to further irritate his mom before they could get their hands on that pizza.

"Don't think your Ma likes me much," Riki whispered as he crawled up onto Sunoo's bed, pulling his knees up to his chest.

"Don't worry, she don't like anyone, really," Sunoo shrugged, tossing a few CDs over for Riki to flip through and pick, as their usual routine went. 

"Even you?"

"No."

It felt strange, to admit this so easily to someone; he was so used to having to put up the charade of being a well-loved only child with a single mom that did everything she could to provide for him. 

Maybe it was unfair for him to feel this bitter—his mom did provide for him, after all, and he knew by now (despite Riki never actually saying so) that Riki’s parents were way worse than his mom. At least his mom fed and clothed him somewhat properly, and gave him bits of entertainment to occupy himself with here and there whenever she had extra money—even if it was only so he could busy himself without bothering her at all. So what if she didn’t actually like having him around? So what if she disappeared every now and then? Sunoo could take care of himself. 

But Riki was so small, and always scared. Always cold, and hungry, and scared. Hurt. And Sunoo didn’t know what to do, besides keep his very best friend close and take care of him, too.

"That's stupid; she's dumb, then. How could someone not like you, Suh-new?"

Sunoo blinked rapidly, taken aback both by Riki's sudden disrespect towards an adult that he'd never really shown before, and the unexpectedly sweet sentiment, however awkward and drawled-out it was with Riki's accented speech—which had lately become even more so, with the younger missing a couple of his front baby teeth, causing quite the lisp.

He sucked at the inside of his cheek, not knowing how to respond as he quickly plucked whatever CD Riki currently had in his hands and loaded it into his CD player. 

“Dunno, I’m loud. Lots of people pro’lly don’t like me.”

“...I like you, Suh-new.”

Sunoo fidgeted with the buttons on the radio, letting his fingers trace along them before hitting play, giving himself a moment to keep from tearing up. It felt ridiculous, honestly—of course Riki liked him; they were best friends. But to hear it from the younger in this moment, for some reason, had Sunoo feeling a little shaky.

“Come on, scoot over—I wanna show you my list.”

Riki did as he said, making room on the twin-size bed for Sunoo to hop up next to him with his journal, pointing out each entry written out with different colored glitter gel pens.

“First—we’ll eat when the pizza gets here—then, we’re doing our Monopoly rematch, and don’t think I won’t notice if you cheat, Mister! After I win that, then we can do whichever you want to do, any video game or a different game—or we can go outside and I can start teaching you how to ride the bike before it gets too dark—later though, I got new movies from the library and we can have popcorn—,”

He only paused his out-loud planning for a second or two when Riki carefully rested his head down on Sunoo’s shoulder, his heart feeling funny the way it did a lot when he was with the younger. He smiled as he continued down the list, laughing at the shocked gasp the boy let out when he mentioned sneaking out on Saturday, the two whispering and giggling until Sunoo’s mom called them down to get the pizza.

They took it back to Sunoo’s room to eat. Sunoo made sure to gently remind Riki every so often to not eat too fast, and Riki gave him the pieces of sausage he says he doesn’t like, and Sunoo smiled, giggling whenever Riki looked up at him with his own pizza-sauce covered grin.

Later that night, when they’re tucked in the bed, Sunoo’s old Lion King night-light pulled out from his closet and plugged in like he always made sure to do when Riki slept over—he waited until Riki stopped squirming and shifting and his breathing was slow and even before whispering underneath his blanket. 

“I like you too, Riki.”

☾

Riki was just a few weeks shy of nine years old the first time he understood that his and Sunoo’s friendship was different from the other kids’.

They were best friends, of course—everyone in their grade knew this, even a lot of the older and younger kids knew it, by then. They shared everything—their lunch, their clothes, their toys (mostly Sunoo sharing those things with him, but still). They always sat together at lunch, worked together in class, played together at Afterschool, sat together on the bus, walked to and from the bus stop together. They were always, always together.

“There goes Sunny and Ricky, again,” the older kids would say, snickering at the two boys walking onto the bus holding hands.

“Sunny and Ricky always hog the swings,” the second-graders would whine, rolling their eyes as they hung around waiting for their turn.

“Sunoo and Riki, if you two don’t stop talking I’ll have to split you up,” the teacher would huff, yet never would go through with his threat. The wrinkles around the corners of his eyes always softened each morning as the two boys would walk into class hand in hand, Riki never without a jacket of some kind, usually a little too big—and Sunoo never complaining about his own chilled skin.

Yes, this was all nothing new, or odd, surely. Lots of kids were best friends. 

But Riki just knew, one windy November afternoon, how different they were when an older kid with tight, ripped up black skinny jeans and bleached highlights in his shaggy hair cornered him and Sunoo at the bus stop.

“You two oughta be real careful, ‘round here, ya know?” the boy raised his brows, crossing his arms tight. “No one says nothin’ right now, cuz you’re small and cute. But when you’re older, they won’t let you off so easy. Trust me.”

“What are you talkin’ about, June?” Sunoo huffed, pulling Riki closer by his arm. 

Of course Sunoo knew the bigger kid’s name, Riki thought. Sunoo seemed to know everybody, from second graders below them, up to the sixth. Sunoo had lots of friends throughout the whole elementary school, to be honest—he was a social butterfly, never having a hard time making conversation with anyone who would stick around to do so—but he always came back to Riki, at the end of the day. And it was Riki who he shared his lunch with, Riki who he let secretly stay over at his house, and Riki he let into his hideout by the creek. So Riki didn’t care. Much.

“Don’t gimme that look, Sunny. I’m just tryna look out for you,” June said, shaking his head, “you’ll understand when you’re a li’l older.”

“I ain’t stupid,” Sunoo bit out, stomping his foot, and Riki snapped his head up at that, knowing Sunoo got feisty whenever people tried to treat him like a baby.

“If you ain’t, then you won’t keep holdin’ hands with your little friend once you guys are in fourth grade next year,” June tsked, and though Riki could tell the older boy was trying to sound threatening, or at least a little mean, there was a sad look to his eyes. 

Riki had learned, quite quickly after meeting Sunoo, that you could tell a lot by a person’s eyes. More than the person may ever actually tell you.

“I’ll hold hands with Riki even when we’re in sixth grade like you, Yeon-jun,” Sunoo sneered, spitting out the boy’s full name like a swear word as he tightened his grip on Riki’s hand, pulling him along with a humph as Yeonjun squawked out a shocked little laugh. 

“You got some guts, Li’l Sunny, I’ll give ya that!”

Sunoo just tilted his chin up higher as he led Riki down the broken-up sidewalk, a tiny frown stuck on his face, unusually quiet.

“What was he talkin’ ‘bout, Suh-new?”

“Nothing, Riki. Don’t worry about it.”

“Why can’t we hold hands no more in fourth grade?”

“We can. June was just being dumb, and mean.”

“He looked sad. And worried—, ”

Sunoo stopped walking, then, and he took a deep breath, before stepping in front of Riki and holding both his hands tight.

“Some people say boys shouldn’t hold hands. Or make friendship bracelets together. Or wear pink,” Sunoo said shortly, his eyes dimmed, and Riki tilted his head, trying to understand. He’d heard those things, of course; he’d always known pink was for girls, and even he had thought it was a bit strange when Sunoo sat him down and showed him how to bead bracelets, but he never really knew the reasoning of any of it.

“But, why?”

“Because people are dumb. And they’re wrong. Now enough about it, come on—let’s go, Ki-Ki, it’s cold,” Sunoo insisted, tucking the thick red scarf he’d given to Riki a bit tighter around his neck, before once again grabbing his hand. Riki flushed at the nickname, which Sunoo had started using after they watched Kiki’s Delivery Service and the older thought the name similarity was funny—and which, to his own annoyance, always seemed to get him to agree with whatever Sunoo was proposing. 

“But—,”

“Listen, if you don’t wanna hold hands with me anymore next year, that’s fine. But not because some dumb idiot told you it’s wrong,” Sunoo sighed, waving for Riki to keep walking. “Only if you don’t want to.”

“Oh. Okay,” Riki shrugged, figuring the whole conversation was a bit useless, then. Because why wouldn’t he want to keep holding Sunoo’s hand? His hands were warm, and soft, and his shorter, chubbier fingers fit so snugly with his own.

And he always led him the right way, wherever they went.

“Ugh, God—Mom’s home,” Sunoo whined, pulling Riki to a quick stop once they reached his house. He gave Riki a tiny, apologetic twitch of his lips, before turning his eyes to the ground.

“She wouldn’t be too happy if I brought you in, today,” he whispered, kicking at some loose stone, “she was real mad the other day after she caught us and made you go home. She still is.”

“Oh,” Riki mumbled, hugging himself, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. 

Sunoo’s mom scared him, but not in the same way his own parents scared him. He was scared of his parents hurting him, or locking him in his room and not letting him eat, or throwing him out of the house and locking him in the tiny tool shed that they never really used and was falling apart, full of dirt and dust and spiders.

But that was all consistent, something he always had to be wary of, things he could plan for and do his best to avoid. Sunoo’s mom scared him in a way he didn’t really know how to explain. She would seem so nice, one second, but would change in an instant. One day, she would offer him and Sunoo cookies as they came home from school, and the next she would barely say hi, completely ignoring Riki and snapping at Sunoo to make sure Riki was out of the house by seven. 

The day Sunoo was referring to, was Saturday, one of the days Sunoo’s mom normally worked overnight—she had come home early, and caught Sunoo and Riki having one of their secret sleepovers. She’d been furious, screaming at Sunoo for bringing someone into the house without her knowing, grabbing him and shaking him roughly as she demanded to know how often they’d been doing that, threatening to keep him locked up in his room and make him do homeschooling. She had ushered Riki out the door, yelling at him to go home and that if she ever caught him there without her approving it again, she would call the cops on his parents and make sure he never got to see Sunoo again. 

But the scariest thing about it was how Sunoo hadn’t shown up at school that next Monday. He’d spent the whole day worrying that she’d made good on her threat, and almost dared to knock on their door as he was walking home, but he didn’t. He’d gone home instead, and listened to his own parents argue and fight, and he endured his dad taking out his anger on him that night, but none of it had hurt him as much as the thought of Sunoo being gone.

He wasn’t, of course—he’d been back at school on Tuesday, and the rest of the week, but steadfastly refused to talk about any of it, quickly changing the subject every time Riki tried to ask if anything had happened. But ever since, he kept noticing this odd look in the older boy’s eyes, especially whenever he looked at him, and it made him nervous.

“Be careful goin’ home, ‘kay? See you after Thanksgiving break,” Sunoo said softly, giving Riki’s hands one last squeeze before reluctantly making his way towards the porch, not daring to look back. 

“You too,” he hollered back as Sunoo headed up his porch steps, pausing to give Riki a tiny wave before going inside. Riki tried to ignore the heavy feeling in his stomach as he made his way to his own house, heaving a sigh of relief at the sight of the empty driveway.

Yes, his and Sunoo’s friendship was very different from others, for many reasons. They shared lunch, and clothes, and they held hands no matter how much the older kids laughed at them. They were always together—except when they weren’t. And the times they weren’t was when Riki felt this difference the most. 

Because he didn’t think other kids spent all of their nights worrying that each time they said ‘see you later’ to their best friend could be the last time they ever would. 

☀

Sunoo’s tenth birthday party was three days away, when he finally got the courage to ask about the things that had been recently weighing heavier on his mind than the idea of turning double-digits.

His mother had started sending him over to the Chois’ house while she worked now that he was on summer break, and she made him stay there anytime she worked overnight, now, too. Since the incident with getting caught sneaking Riki over, she hadn’t even gone away at all lately for longer than that—and when she was home, it felt like she had been watching him like a hawk. It was disconcerting; he wondered for a bit why she had suddenly felt the need to be so “protective” over him, when she’d previously been so okay with him just staying home alone, for days, even. Then again, he felt he knew the answer to that, but he just didn’t understand why.

He didn’t really mind getting to hang out with the two older boys that usually ended up being his main babysitters since their parents also worked a lot—Beomgyu being two years older, and Yeonjun three—especially since Yeonjun would be moving to the big school now that he was heading into seventh grade. They taught him lots of things, like what was cool to wear and music to listen to, and slang that older kids used (they even used swear words). They both had flip phones, too, which made them automatically seem cooler and sophisticated to a fourth grader, of course. 

This was how Sunoo decided that they would be the perfect ones to ask about a few things considering they had always been cool about talking to him about “older kid” stuff, as well as about the things that they did that they weren’t supposed to, because Sunoo had promised not to tell on them and hadn’t. They also told him they’d return the favor, if he ever wanted to tell them something, or ask about stuff he didn’t want to tell an adult about. So, one day while sitting on Yeonjun’s bedroom floor with Beomgyu and coloring while the older boys read comics, he did.

“What’s heroin?”

Beomgyu and Yeonjun both looked up at him from their comic books in horror, and Sunoo cringed a little, now regretting his plan to satiate his curiosity, thinking the older boys might end up snitching on him after all.

“Who the hell is tryna sell you Smack?” Yeonjun hissed under his breath, scooting to the edge of his bed to grab at Sunoo’s shirt sleeve and pull him closer, while Beomgyu just gaped at him from his spot on the floor, “God damn, you’re a whole baby, the fuck is goin’ on in this shithole town—,”

“No one’s givin’ it to me,” Sunoo rushed out, nervous now that he’d really stepped in it. It must have all been worse than he thought, if Yeonjun was reacting like this.

“You better tell him the truth, Sunny,” Beomgyu clicked his tongue, scrunching his nose up, and the concern on his face just set Sunoo more on edge. “He’ll just find out anyway—,”

“Find out which fuckin’ scumbag dealer in this town is tryna sell a baby heroin, of fuckin’ course I will, Beomie—,”

“No one—and I’m not a baby, I’m almost ten!”

“Ten is a baby,” Yeonjun huffed out, ignoring Sunoo’s insulted face. “Too damn young to be askin’ about shit like this—,”

“I just heard about it, is all, I just wanted to know,” Sunoo mumbled, avoiding Yeonjun’s intense stare in favor of meeting Beomgyu’s worried eyes.

“From who?” he asked, fidgeting with a page of his comic, folding it back and forth—a habit which Yeonjun always nagged his younger brother about, complaining that it would ruin the book’s condition. Apparently, though, Yeonjun was entirely more concerned about pulling information out of Sunoo than his precious comic books, considering he didn’t even give Beomgyu so much as a dirty look—which was really saying something.

Sunoo shook his head, staring down at his half-finished coloring page of Tod and Copper from Fox and the Hound, which was his and Riki’s favorite Disney movie to watch together. He was going to give the page to Riki once he’d finished it, because Riki had told him he didn’t have anything to put up in his locker for decoration once they started school this year—fourth graders and up got their own lockers, and Sunoo had been quite excited about the whole thing. 

“Bet you it was that asshole down the block, Petey, wasn’t it, Sunny—tell me, then, so I finally have an excuse to kick his ass—,”

“It wasn’t nobody like that, June,” Sunoo whined, scooting away from his babysitter’s prodding finger.

“Don’t tell me it was Riki,” Beomgyu frowned, crossing his arms, and Sunoo twitched, trying his best to hold his poker face.

“That li’l friend of yours, Sunny, that follows you around like a puppy? The tiny one?” Yeonjun blinked quickly, leaning forward. “He’s even more of a baby than you—,”

“No! He didn’t tell me anything!” Sunoo snapped, the urge to protect Riki combining with his irritation about his ignorance to all of this finally setting him off. “My mom said it! Said that Riki’s parents are heroin addicts and tweakers and that’s why she won’t let Riki come to my house OR my birthday party anymore!” 

Sunoo choked up on his last few words, eyes filling with tears as all of the stress of missing having his best friend around for weeks finally caught up to him. His vision went blurry from the sudden wetness, and he missed the devastated expression that crossed Yeonjun’s face.

“Oh…Jesus Christ,” the oldest boy sighed, rubbing his face harshly, a stiff silence flooding the room, making Sunoo’s sniffling and little hiccups trying to hold back sobs even more pronounced.

“...Is that true?” Beomgyu asked, brow furrowed, and Sunoo shrugged roughly.

“Dunno—Riki never said nothin’ ‘bout it,” he sniffled, wiping his stray tears before they could fall to his coloring page.

Yeonjun just kept his head turned away, staring at the carpet, nervously combing his fringe down. Beomgyu scooted forward, lightly patting Sunoo’s shoulder. 

“We ain’t mad at you or nothin’, Sunny—it’s just, that’s bad stuff, okay? We were just worried—,”

“Just—don’t be gettin’ involved in any of that, you or Riki,” Yeonjun finally shook his head, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he stared down at Sunoo, more serious than he thinks he’s ever seen the older look. “It’s bad, okay? That’s all you need to know. Makes you real sick, so sick you could die.”

“Aw, June, don’t go tellin’ the kid something like that—,”

“It’s true. You oughta hear it too, Beomie,” Yeonjun spat out, flicking his longer hair from his eyes with a quick twitch of his head. “Shit’s not something to play with. And if you ever get caught with it, you get in BIG trouble—the police will put you in jail and everything.”

“Riki’s parents should go, then,” Sunoo huffed, meeting Yeonjun’s shocked stare evenly, “they’re bad.”

It went quiet again, for a moment, before Beomgyu stood, pulling Sunoo up from the floor a bit roughly and resting his hands on his shoulders.

“Now, listen, Sunny—don’t go…causing no problems or nothin’,” he said, biting his lip. “That’s—you know, this town…around here…people gotta…mind their own business. That’s all on them, if it’s true…,”

“But they—,” Sunoo cut himself off, quickly glancing around Yeonjun’s room. He ignored the eyes he could feel on him, instead looking around at the band posters and magazine clippings that lined the older’s black painted walls, and the red lights strung up above the computer that sat on Yeonjun’s desk, which was covered in sketches and papers full of scratchy handwriting and empty soda and energy drink cans. He always thought Yeonjun’s room was super cool, but right now, he felt a little trapped.

“Look. Whether they do that stuff or not…it’s just…not our place, okay?” Yeonjun finally broke the silence, earning Sunoo’s attention. “It’s…the consequences are on them.”

“But, what about Riki?” he whispered, and that’s when Beomgyu dropped a true bomb on him, one that he could never quite forget about, even years later.

“Look. If—if his parents get in trouble for that—the police will take Riki away,” he said, squeezing Sunoo’s shoulders when he tried to back up in shock. “He doesn’t have no other family here, does he? That’s what happened to my old best friend, when I was in second grade. His parents got the cops called on ‘em and then the police took him away, downstate to the big city, and I never got to see him again.”

Sunoo finally broke free, his eyes watering, his breath catching.

“I don’t—I don’t want Riki to go away, ” he squeaked out, “I don’t—he can’t, he has to stay with me—he needs me—,”

“Hey, come on, now, Sunny,” Yeonjun urgently began to shush him, waving him to come over closer, pulling him into a light hug once he did so. “Don’t freak out, now—even if that happened, he would just be going to a nicer family—,”

“You don’t know that, June! You and mom always say that!” Beomgyu yelled, startling Sunoo in Yeonjun’s arms. “You always say that Tae-Tae’s somewhere better, but what if he ain’t? I’m not fuckin’ stupid, I know what the foster care system is like—,”

“You don’t know shit, Beomgyu, shut up—I’m trying to not freak the kid out—,”

“I know that there’s shitty people who only take in kids for money, and they abuse them—,”

“Shut the fuck up, Gyu—,”

“I don’t want Riki to go away!” Sunoo cried, sobbing into Yeonjun’s shoulder. “I don’t want him to live with s-some, strangers, a-and get hurt there, where I can’t t-take care of him! W-what if they make him hungry t-too and no one sh-shares their lunch with him! What if he gets c-cold and they don’t gi-give him a new jacket when he grows out of m-mine—,”

“God,” Yeonjun sighed, holding Sunoo tighter. “Oh, Sunny…,”

“This is so fucked up,” Beomgyu breathed out, sitting beside Yeonjun on his bed, earning a tiny kick from his older brother.

“This is your fault, stupid—,”

“You’re the one who told him about the cops drug busting, asswipe!”

“I j-just—want—him to come—to my birthday p-party,” Sunoo whimpered, grasping at Yeonjun’s bleach-stained band tee, and he felt the older boy breathe in deeply. 

“I’ll—shit, I’ll talk to your mom, okay, Sunny? I’ll talk to her, so, just don’t cry, okay? Don’t cry.”

“She’ll change her mind—it ain’t his fault his parents are shit,” Beomgyu added, but Sunoo knew deep down his mom didn’t really care about that. She didn’t care about him, let alone Riki. She cared about money, and her reputation. Knowing all of this now, he finally figured out what her problem really was. 

He wasn’t a dumb baby, no matter what Yeonjun thought.

“I’ll talk to her, okay? It’ll be fine,” Yeonjun insisted with a deep breath, patting the back of Sunoo’s head, brushing his ruffled hair down. 

And later, when his mom came by to pick him up—Yeonjun did just that, pulling her aside in the house for a moment to talk, quiet enough that Sunoo couldn’t hear from where Beomgyu had kept hold of him, hugging him tight. 

“Don’t be too upset, Sunny, ‘kay? Things will be fine, Junie knows what he’s doing,” he whispered, pulling back to make sure Sunoo looked put-together enough, and that there were no traces of his earlier crying. 

“Can I borrow this to finish the page?” he asked, holding up the coloring book, changing the topic so that he wouldn’t get teary-eyed again. “I wanna give it to Riki when I see him again…,”

“Just keep it. I don’t really color much anymore,” Beomgyu said with a tiny smile, patting Sunoo’s hair. “See you at your birthday party, Kid.”

“See ya,” he sighed, biting his lip hard at the tight smile on his mom’s face as she finally waved him over, Yeonjun looking a bit awkward, but relieved. Sunoo didn’t know what to think about that, but at that moment, he felt that Yeonjun was his hero. Even when his mom pulled him out of the house by his wrist, he felt it in the way Yeonjun squinted at the action, and the way he nodded assuringly at Sunoo before shutting the door behind them. 

His mom was silent the rest of the way home, the car radio not even on, and Sunoo sat there, wondering just what Yeonjun had said to her. She was still silent as they made their way into their own house—but once they were behind their own door, she finally snapped. 

Sunoo barely had time to react as she crouched down to his level and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, smacking him on his mouth by the back of her hand, hissing her words through her teeth, her eyes on fire. 

“I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re playing at, you little shit—but if you’re going around telling people I’m such a terrible mom to you—,”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Shut up!” she spat, smacking his face again, this time hard enough that he was blinking back tears, trying to edge his way to the door. Her grip on his shirt just tightened, and Sunoo fought back a whimper. 

“Just because I won’t let that little hood-rat, a damn tweaker’s bastard kid in our house to steal from us or get you hooked on all that bullshit, guess that means I’m a bitch of a mother, huh? Let me tell you something—you don’t understand how good you have it here. A roof over your head, food on the table, a bed to sleep in, being able to go to school. There’s kids that would love to be in your position. You’re such an ungrateful little bastard, and you always have been!”

Sunoo swallowed hard, holding his new coloring book close to his chest the best he could with his mother shaking him.

“I n-never said you—,”

“You wanna go around tellin’ people I abuse you? Good luck out there, Sunoo. The system would eat you alive. You better get it through your empty little head how lucky you are to be under this roof, and not out on the fuckin’ streets in this town.”

“I—I know, I don’t s-say you—,”

“You wanna see what it’s like? Go on, then, go spend a night out there—,”

“I d-don’t wanna—,”

“Then you better shut the fuck up about me, and anything that happens in this house,” his mom said with one more quick slap to the side of Sunoo’s head as she stood to her full height, and Sunoo cowered, squeezing the book with white knuckles. “It’s no one’s fucking business, you hear me?”

Sunoo stared up at her, fear and sadness mixing in his gut, along with something else that had the hairs on the back of his neck standing, his body trembling, his jaw tightening. 

He was mad. No, he was pissed.

“I wish Dad was here instead of you,” he bit out, fully expecting another hit, then, that didn’t come. 

His mother just chuckled, an ugly, humorless noise that just made Sunoo feel smaller.

“Your idiot father left us because of you, what makes you think he’d want you, now?”

Sunoo ducked his head to hide the tears welling up again, digging his heels into the rug for a second before bounding off to his room, slamming the door shut behind him—as if his mom would actually bother to follow him. 

He felt an insane urge to break everything in his room, so much anger and hurt coursing through his veins that he had no outlet for—but he didn’t. Instead, he crawled beneath his blankets with the coloring book and the tiny plastic fox keychain Riki had gotten from a quarter machine and given to him, and cried. 

He cried, wondering what was so wrong with him that neither of his parents loved him; he cried wondering if his mom would keep him away from the Chois, now, too. But most of all, he cried because he hadn’t seen even a peek of Riki for almost three weeks, now, since school let out, and he was scared.

He cried until his mom pounded on his door, yelling at him to shut up before her "company" got there. He did his best to force down his near-hysterical sobbing, but found no matter how long he laid there and stared at the ceiling, the tears wouldn't stop falling. He didn't even want a birthday party anymore, all he wanted was to know that Riki was okay.

So, suffice to say that when Yeonjun came rolling up to their pavilion at the park the day of said party on his bicycle, with Beomgyu at his side on his own and Riki bumbling along awkwardly behind them on the old bike Sunoo had passed down to him—Sunoo had cried again. He ignored the other guests, as well as his mother's indignant huffing, and ran towards his best friend, nearly throwing them both to the ground as Riki stumbled off the bike, grabbing Sunoo's shirt to keep balanced. 

"You're okay, you're okay," was all he could bring himself to repeat through his hiccupy sobs, relief flooding his body as Riki hugged him back. 

"Yeah?" Riki mumbled, patting Sunoo's back lightly, the action just making Sunoo cry more.

"I missed you, Ki-Ki."

"Missed you too, Suh-new. Got you a birthday present, this time," Riki said, pulling back from Sunoo's arms to hold out a small, lumpy, hastily wrapped and messily taped up present, which Sunoo took with a shake of his head.

"You are my present, the best present ever," Sunoo sniffled, looking up at Yeonjun before wrapping his arms around the older boy's waist. "Thank you, Junie, thank you—,"

"Ah—yeah, whatever, you're welcome I guess," Yeonjun muttered, and Sunoo just grinned when the older pushed him away, bouncing on his toes and holding out his hand for Riki to grab before pulling the boy along with him back to the pavilion.

"You're just in time, we already ate hot dogs and stuff but there's some left, we were just about to cut the cake—it's chocolate, your favorite—and, and, we're gonna do a water balloon fight! And—then, then, we can play on the playground but, if you want, we can go swing, instead!"

Sunoo just rambled on and on breathlessly as Riki sat beside him and ate, watching him unwrap the present—a small fox plushie—and rambled some more, making sure to catch his best friend up on everything he hadn't been able to talk about for weeks.

And if his mom yelled at him later when they got home, or grounded him, or even hit him—Sunoo wouldn't care one bit. This was the best birthday he'd ever had.

☾

Riki felt quite a bit older than ten years old, the day he found out the hard way that he didn’t exactly fit into the very back of his closet anymore. 

He took a while debating what to do, when all was said and done—try his luck sticking it out in his room the rest of the night? Deal with staying in the shed? Or just head down to the creek hideout? But now that it was Spring, the bugs were getting worse, so neither of those were very appealing options. 

Holding his shoulder up stiffly, wiping at the remaining blood from his nose and lip, and squeezing his blurry eyes shut from the pounding soreness on the back of his head—he decided he would have to suck it up and take a risk.

He didn’t bother taking a bag, just grabbed the slightly-oversized but good-quality jacket Sunoo had given him for his last birthday and headed out the door, making sure to lock it after checking for his key in his jean pocket. 

The walk to Sunoo’s house wasn’t very far, and most of his pain was numbed by the shock of everything as well as the leftover adrenaline, but it felt too far away, regardless. The thought of curling up in Sunoo’s bed with him, beneath his soft comforter, as the older boy soothed his frayed nerves and nursed his injuries was really all he could focus on, despite the sharp pains shooting through his shoulder and back. 

They hadn’t risked having Riki over at Sunoo’s house again, yet, even after Sunoo’s birthday party last summer—Sunoo said his mom was pretty mad that he’d shown up to that, but apparently something had shifted afterwards, because she seemed to not care so much anymore what Sunoo did as long as Riki wasn’t under their roof. They’d taken to hanging out at the park once it got nicer outside, or occasionally, Riki would go over to the Chois’ now, whenever Sunoo’s mom made him stay there overnight. The older boys’ parents didn’t seem to mind, or maybe just didn’t care, as they always seemed distracted or busy arguing with each other whenever they were home, so Riki felt less skeptical about it than he was about going to Sunoo’s. 

Now that he’d thought about it, maybe it would’ve been better to try his luck at the Chois’. Though, he felt a bit awkward hanging out with the older boys without Sunoo around, and in the end, he simply didn’t trust them the way he trusted Sunoo. Sunoo knew everything, there were no secrets between them, and Sunoo understood.  

He was already at the boy’s house, by then, anyway. 

Licking at his busted lip, Riki eyed the rusty car in the driveway, crouching down beside the bent mailbox. He watched the windows, trying to determine if there was any movement in the house—it was nearing eleven-thirty at night, and he knew Sunoo’s mom would have to work in the morning, so he felt it was safe to assume she would be in bed. But he couldn’t be too careful.

He snuck around the side of the trailer, over to where he knew Sunoo’s window looked out to the shabby construction site on the property across the road. Hoping for the best, he rapped his knuckles on the window, hopefully both enough for Sunoo to hear, but quiet enough that his mother didn’t. 

There was a thud, and then some shuffling noises, so Riki pulled himself up on the ledge with his good arm, knocking again.

“Suh-new—it’s me, Riki—open the window!”

A moment of nothing, then—Riki backed up as Sunoo shoved his window open, sticking his head out with a bewildered expression gracing his puffy, still-sleepy face. 

“Riki, what the hell are you doing?” he hissed through his teeth, his eyes still glazed from sleep and his hair ruffled up into a wild bed head. 

“I’ll explain, but—help me in?” Riki sighed, reaching up over the ledge, swallowing hard when Sunoo grabbed his hand with no hesitation.

“Okay—you’re gonna have to—can you not use that arm? Okay, try stepping up—no, not there, here—just jump—okay, yeah, knee up—there, alright—,”

Riki bit back a groan as Sunoo finally managed to help pull him up inside with a huff, both of them landing on the floor. 

They both whipped their heads towards Sunoo’s bedroom door, holding their breath as they listened for Sunoo’s mom—and after a minute of silence, Sunoo took a deep breath before helping Riki up. 

“What are you doing here?” he whispered, eyes widening a bit as he finally took in Riki’s appearance. “What—what happened to you—,”

“What do you think happened?” Riki bit out, before snapping his mouth shut, lips pressed tight. Sunoo’s mouth fell open, and Riki turned his face away to hide the burning on his cheeks, even though it was dark in the room.

“...My God, Riki,” he finally sighed, roughly combing his hair down. Riki watched him debate silently with himself before shooing Riki over to the bed, making him sit before heading to the door.

“I’ll be right back—don’t move. If—if you hear anything, just—under the bed, yeah?” Sunoo said quietly, waiting for Riki to nod before creaking his door open just enough to slip out. 

He sat there in the dark, twisting the beads of his friendship bracelet around his wrist and staring at Sunoo’s maroon carpet as he mulled over the past couple hours he’d just lived through—his brain still felt a bit fuzzy, and his vision was still a bit blurred. His shoulder ached, and he felt nauseous even though he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Yet, he found he could at least breathe, now that he was here.

He only looked back up once Sunoo snuck back into the room, tip-toeing and slowly shutting the door behind him before joining Riki on the bed, his eyes wide with anxiety. 

“Here—for your face,” he whispered, holding a warm wash rag up to Riki’s cheek, using it to wipe gently at his lip and around his nose before motioning for Riki to hold it there while he put a bandaid with some ointment on his forehead; apparently there was a cut Riki hadn’t even realized was there. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled, averting his eyes back to the ground as Sunoo sat there beside him, watching him nervously as he fidgeted. 

“Your shoulder doesn’t look right,” he fretted, biting the skin around his nails.

“Think it’s outta place,” Riki sighed, wincing as he rolled his head, trying to stretch his stiff neck.

“What—what do we do about it?” 

“You gotta pop it back right.”

“Wha—how!? I can’t—,”

“I’ll tell you how, I’ve done it for my mom before—but you gotta do it, I can’t, on myself.”

“Ki-Ki—,”

“Don’t—I ain’t goin’ to no doctor, so you gotta.”

“Maybe—maybe I could sneak the phone and call Junie—,” 

“That’ll get us caught!” Riki snapped, guilt swirling in his gut as he finally met Sunoo’s teary gaze. “Look—it sounds worse than it is, ‘kay, it only hurts for a bit—once it’s back right, it ain’t even so bad.”

Sunoo heaved a deep breath, looking around the room a bit, as if looking for some sort of answer, before nodding. 

“Fine. Okay, just—tell me what to do.”

Riki laid flat on the bed, instructing Sunoo to pull as he held his arm out, holding his breath and biting down hard on the washcloth through the pain to hold back a scream as the older boy finally did so, kicking a foot up to the bed for leverage to pull steadily until they felt the pop. 

He groaned under his breath, blinking his eyes open as he sat up, holding his arm close and looking up at Sunoo with a nod. 

“I need to keep it up, now,” he breathed out, and Sunoo hummed before going to his closet and pulling out an old t-shirt, securing it beneath Riki’s arm and tying it up into a makeshift sling. 

“That feel okay?” he asked, peeking at the door again once Riki nodded. “You should probably put ice on it, I…I can probably get to the kitchen without waking her up.”

“Don’t risk it—,”

“I’ll be quiet—you need it,” Sunoo argued, shushing Riki before sneaking out the door again.

Riki settled back against the headboard, kicking Sunoo’s blanket up over his legs with a sigh as he looked around, his eyes adjusting to the dark. 

Sunoo’s room had changed a bit since he last saw it, a few different posters tacked up along the wall, his dresser and TV moved off to the side to make room for a full length mirror beside his closet. He had fairy lights strung up above the bed and his desk, now, a few pictures taped up along them above the desk that Riki couldn’t make out. His vision had been getting worse, lately, but especially now, with the headache.

Sunoo’s ice mission was successful; he crept back into the room with soft steps, quickly crawling into the bed beside Riki and resting a baggie of ice on his shoulder, then settling in close as he arranged the blanket around them. 

“I don’t think my mom would bother coming in here at all before she leaves for work, but…jeez, Riki, if she catches us…,”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to make it any harder for us to see each other.”

“I know.”

“It would not be pretty, if she found out, not at all.”

“I know.”

Sunoo sighed, tucking his face into Riki’s neck as he shifted down lower in the bed, resting onto Sunoo’s pillows.

“...I don’t know what to do, Ki-Ki.”

Riki blinked up at the ceiling, feeling as though Sunoo wasn’t just talking about hiding their unplanned sleepover, the way his voice cracked with desperation.

“We’ll figure somethin’ out, Sun-noo,” he whispered slowly, doing his best to pay attention to the way Sunoo’s name formed in his mouth along with the syllables of his sentence, the way his speech therapist at school told him to do. 

Sunoo didn’t say anything to that, but he grabbed for Riki’s hand beneath the blankets, squeezing it tight. They laid there in the quiet, the distant sound of crickets and nature mixing with the light wind blowing in through the still-open window. It blew Sunoo’s curtains gently, causing shadows to dance along the wall, and Riki watched them as he willed his nerves to calm down enough for him to fall asleep.

“Can I hug you?”

Riki blinked, glancing over, a bit surprised Sunoo was still awake. His eyes were dimmed, half-lidded and droopy, but definitely awake.

It had been hard, before, for him to handle Sunoo’s affection. It was natural for him to want to hold Riki’s hand or arm, pull him along, throw his arms around him, and it had taken a while before Riki didn’t flinch anymore any time Sunoo made quick movements around him. Sunoo eventually caught on to this, and ever since, had been much more conservative with the skinship. 

Recently, though, Riki found that it didn’t actually bother him much, as long as it was Sunoo.

“Course,” he agreed, lifting his good arm so that Sunoo could cuddle up closer to him, gently wrapping an arm around Riki’s stomach, letting out a deep breath when Riki shifted closer, too.

“I don’t ever want you to go back home,” Sunoo mumbled into his shirt, his breathing growing softer, “wan’ you to stay ‘ere with me f’rever.”

Riki hummed, tracing his fingers along Sunoo’s shoulder before letting his arm fall to the bed, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of Sunoo’s watermelon-scented shampoo. He felt better, already.

“Me too.”

He didn’t notice when he fell asleep, and he didn’t even wake up once through the night like he usually did either from from anxiety or nightmares—but he eventually woke up from the sunlight peeking in through the window and the birds chirping outside, Sunoo still curled up at his side. 

He wasn’t sure how he’d gone so long without this: this comfort, this security, this peace—memories of their past sleepovers played like a movie reel in his mind as he watched Sunoo sleep. He decided then and there, though, as he tossed the bag of melted ice to the floor, that he didn’t want to have to do so ever again. He knew he’d have to go back home, eventually, but he also knew that his house wasn’t really home. Never had been, never would be.

Sunoo was his home.

Chapter Text

☀

Sunoo was eleven (and a half) when he first started to understand the power of being pretty.  

He’d seen it on TV, and in movies of course, before: boys and men alike practically falling over themselves trying to impress the beautiful, model-like women that served as little more than love interests, or princesses winning over the princes of their dreams with a little bit of a makeover. 

The concept seemed to apply to real life just as well, which had been a bit of a surprise to him. He supposed he understood a little more now why his mother always had so many men willing to throw money at her and buy her things—objectively speaking, his mother was naturally beautiful, and still looked a bit younger than her age, even despite the smoking and the stress she always seemed to be under. And he knew this was the case, because there was no way she was really affording the expensive clothes and jewelry she wore by herself. He didn't have to be an adult to know that her grocery store and bartending jobs didn't make that kind of money. 

He wasn't exactly complaining, of course, because he occasionally got things too; perhaps because some of those men thought that winning his approval actually meant something to his mother.

Well, they could keep thinking that, if it meant he got free stuff. That was their own fault, really, for being so oblivious.

From there, it only became more obvious as the school year went on.

Fifth grade, to begin with, was a lot of change—rotating classes, preparing them for middle school, shorter recess time to allow for a study hall after lunch, stricter expectations about getting homework done. But the biggest changes, Sunoo thought, were in his classmates coming off of that previous summer break.

Most of the girls looked older, somehow. Maybe it was the way they did their hair, or their attempts at makeup, or the slightly-tighter, well-fitted clothes. He’d caught not one, not two, but three boys staring at the group of “popular girls” walking arms linked down the hall with matching Juicy sweatpants, flipping their straightened hair over their shoulders and giggling as they passed by a couple of sixth grade boys, who didn’t even spare them a glance. 

The cliques were new, too. Known friend groups had either stayed together or inexplicably split apart that summer, it seemed, as the school year had come with new social expectations. This hierarchy appeared a bit stricter for the girls, Sunoo noticed, only taking a slight perceived insult for a clique war to break out—nasty words spat under their breath about another girl, whispering and giggling behind the backs of others, fights between “friends” that led to girls crying in the bathroom or having to sit somewhere else on the bus home. All for it to be reset after a mere weekend, the same girls that had just called each other “dumb skanks” the previous week now sitting together at lunch, gossiping about a different girl. It all seemed terribly petty, and it was annoying to have to listen to, but he thinks he would take it any day over dealing with the nonsense of the boys.

It was the worst in gym and recess, of course, where there was less supervision by the teachers. Ridiculous roughhousing and show-offy behavior during games in front of the girls, shouting and cursing at each other as if the louder they were, the cooler they were. Disgusting lunch time dares, mixing food abominations that Sunoo was surprised didn’t make any of them puke. Constant dirty jokes, and teasing and pestering the very same girls they seemed to want to show off for, until the girls got fed up with it. It was utter chaos, and Sunoo could not understand it. 

(Well, he could, technically—once the school had rounded the whole fifth grade up, split them into girls and boys, and gave them the “getting older and noticing changes in your body and in your peers” presentation. It was slightly gross, mildly terrifying, a bit traumatic—but informative, at least, and helpful, in the end.)

Then, of course, there was the other thing.

“Quit being such a fag, shake it off!”

“You sound like a girl when you get hit, Dude, you a fag?”

“Ew, don’t touch me, I’m not a homo!”

“Why you got pink on your shirt? Pink’s for girls and sissy homos!”

It rattled him, every time he heard it. He knew what it meant, of course. Beomgyu had explained it to him and Riki one day over the summer, his words short and irritated, after Yeonjun had flipped someone off after being called that name by a few older guys that had walked past them the opposite direction at the park. 

Boys that like-liked other boys. He supposed it made enough sense; after all, if pretty, smart, sophisticated girls could find themselves willing to want to date a gross, stupid boy, then surely other boys could do so as well, probably much easier in fact. Boys already liked other stupid boy things, right? Sunoo thinks if he were a girl, he would simply not bother, and perhaps just date another girl.

“That’s easy and normal for you to think, Sunny, because most boys like girls. Just think about it this way—you think boys are gross, and you’re a boy. Well, girls probably think the same about other girls, you know—that they’re too petty, too much drama, that sort of thing, who knows. Girls' brains are an enigma.”

Sunoo often thought of Beomgyu’s explanation, especially how he had made a point that despite what people seemed to think, and say, there really wasn't anything wrong with being gay. It was just how some people were. The boy's words always seemed to swirl in the back of his mind; they made sense, on surface level. Yeah, he thought most of the boys his age were dumb, and annoying, and gross. Meanwhile, he thought most of the girls his age were pretty, and nice (at least to him, maybe not so much to each other, all the time) and they always smelled good. But there was a flaw in Beomgyu’s logic, a flaw that he couldn’t even quite begin to explain, until this day. 

It all started one day while sitting with Riki at their favorite lunch table near the back, by the windows, and just catty-corner to the table where a group of the not-quite-as-popular-but-still-considered-cool girls sat. He’d been watching them intently as one of the girls sat pouting in front of a tiny travel desk mirror while her friends enthusiastically attempted to teach her how to do her makeup. 

“You got a crush on one of ‘em, Sunny?” a boy named Timmy that often sat with them asked, snapping Sunoo from his reverie.

“No,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes, smiling fondly as he caught sight of Riki looking at him with wide eyes and cheeks stuffed full, as usual.

“Girls have cooties, isn’t that right, Riki?” he teased, poking the younger boy’s side as he let out a groan, flushing. It had been the cutest, funniest thing, when Riki said that after Beomgyu’s impromptu “like-like” lecture. He’d asked it, so full of genuine concern, when Beomgyu mentioned kissing and insisted they would understand once they got a little older.

“Don’t girls have cooties!?” His face was practically white, his eyes popping out. 

“That’s not real, Ricky,” Timmy huffed, chin tilted up, as if he knew more than they did. “Grown-ups just say that so that we don’t go ‘round kissin’ a bunch of girls!”

“Yeah, I know, it was a joke,” Sunoo snapped, ignoring the face Timmy made at him as he propped his chin up in his hand, watching the girls again. One of them had started demonstrating eyeliner, and the pouty mirror-girl was attempting to follow, pausing frequently as she blinked, cursing. 

“Glad I’m not a girl. I’d hate to have to spend so much time putting all that shit on every day,” said another boy beside him, Eric, his words condescending. Sunoo frowned, but kept his comment to himself. 

He thought it looked quite nice, really, as the girl sat up from the mirror, the blue of her eyes popping from the dark liner and the shimmery eyeshadow. Her friends clapped and squealed, and one eagerly handed her a tube of lip gloss, which the mirror-girl applied happily, her eyes shining as she looked at herself, angling the mirror this way and that, fluffing her shoulder length brown hair.

“Doesn’t fix her horse-face anyway,” a third boy—Sunoo didn’t know this one’s name—snickered, and Timmy barked out a laugh.

“That’s mean. There’s nothing wrong with her face, she’s just as pretty as the rest of them,” Sunoo finally cut in, the other three boys turning their attention to him with shark-like grins.

“Ooooh, Sunny’s got a cruushhhh,” Eric sing-songed, jabbing Sunoo’s arm. 

“Sunny and Heather, sittin’ in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g—,”

“Shut up,” Sunoo whined, kicking Timmy beneath the table, glaring at Riki, who was hiding his own laugh behind his hands. 

“First comes love, then comes marriage—,”

“You’re a traitor,” Sunoo hissed to his best friend, ignoring the other three boys as they continued the stupid song, “a terrible best friend—,”

“Sorry, it’s funny!”

“What, you embarrassed about your crush? Hey, there’s worse girls you could be caught likin’—,”

“I don’t. Have. A crush!” he huffed, shoving a bite of corn into his mouth, still glaring. 

Boys were so stupid.

“You should ask her to be your girlfriend at the Valentine’s Day party,” Timmy insisted, “give her a special valentine, you know, pick out one of the fancier ones to give to her, not just one from the boxes that you have to hand out to everyone—,”

“I won’t. Because I don’t like-like her.”

“Whatever, ignore my advice, then. I actually have a girlfriend, unlike you losers.”

“Shut the fuck up, I could easily get a girlfriend if I wanted to—I just don’t want none of these girls, they ain’t even that hot—,”

“Yeah, ‘cuz you think a sixth grade girl is actually gonna pay any attention to you—,”

Sunoo sighed, shaking his head as he effectively ducked out of the other boys’ argument, watching Riki out of the corner of his eye as the younger uncharacteristically picked at his food. 

The sight made his stomach turn a little, so he looked back over at the girls’ table, smiling a little when mirror-girl—Heather, apparently—caught his eye with a tiny smile of her own. He hadn’t been lying; he did think she was pretty, in her own way. Even before the makeup, while she had been a bit mousey and plain, and she still wore clothes that didn’t fit to her frame, she was nice and not as annoyingly loud and giggly as her friends. 

But the power of the “pretty girl” makeover became clear to him, once they’d made their way to study hall (excluding Riki, because he and a few other students had to go to speech therapy during study hall hour). Suddenly, the boy that sat beside Heather kept looking at her, and the irritating guy that took gym dodgeball games way too seriously kept twisting around in his seat to whisper to her. Sunoo had never seen them interact with her this whole year, until then. To her credit, Heather mostly seemed annoyed by the two boys’ attention—but the message had been sent, loud and clear. Being pretty mattered.

The second part of this, what felt like a major revelation, came when he and Riki were at the park after school, sitting on top of the dinosaur slide that kids weren’t technically supposed to climb up on top of. Lots of the older kids did so anyway, because it gave such a good view of the whole park, including the skate park across the way. It was so high up, and sitting up there made Sunoo feel untouchable.

“D’you really have a crush on that Heather girl?” Riki asked, sipping the soda Sunoo had gotten for him from the vending machine. 

“No—come on, Ki-Ki, you really think I wouldn’t have told you if I did?” Sunoo giggled, gasping and letting out a sympathetic ‘oof’ as he watched an older boy fall on the ramp from his bike. 

“Well, I dunno. It can be embarrassin’ to talk about, I guess…,”

“So what, you know plenty of embarrassing things about me—wait, do you have a crush you aren’t tellin’ me about!?”

“Ugh, no!"

“Alright then, just askin’, jeez.”

Sunoo rolled his eyes, ignoring Riki’s put-out muttering, his gaze instead catching on a teenage couple walking along the path leading out to the skate park. The girl was thin, with straight blonde hair and a heart-shaped face, wearing a cheerleading outfit. The pleated skirt fluttered in the chilly February breeze, and when she shivered, the boy holding her hand let go to shrug off his letterman jacket, throwing it over her shoulders. She grinned, leaning up on her tippy-toes to kiss the boy, and Sunoo felt his stomach twist at the scene. 

The girl was pretty. Very pretty, and she looked so happy, with the way the boy kept his full attention on her every second, and even when she motioned over at the vending machine, the boy hopped up, digging his wallet from his jeans and jogging over. Sunoo watched the girl pull a small mirror from her purse, and some chapstick, applying it and checking her reflection with a tiny, satisfied smile. 

Sunoo realized, then, that he wasn’t imagining himself in the shoes of the older boy, overwhelmed by any sort of attraction to the girl, wanting to do what she asked in the hopes of getting her to kiss him. 

He wanted to be her. He wanted to look at himself, in the mirror, and feel so pretty in a single moment, that he could get people to notice him, to pay attention to him, to do things for him. He didn’t want to give Heather a valentine and ask her to be his girlfriend and sneak tiny pecking kisses on the playground at recess; he wanted to ask her to teach him how to do his eyeliner to make his eyes pop like hers, and to share her shimmery lip gloss. 

Sucking in a deep, shaky breath at the sudden thoughts, Sunoo glanced over at Riki, the younger having apparently seen what Sunoo had been watching, his nose a bit scrunched up at the sight.

Panic shot through his core; something wasn’t right within him, something had gone wrong. This wasn’t normal, surely. 

Sunoo had never much cared for what was normal; he just did what he liked. At home, despite his mother's comments, and at school, despite the teasing from other boys. He liked beading and braiding bracelets, he liked using glitter gel-pens on his notes and he liked drawing and coloring. He preferred line-tag and swinging and chalk-drawing at recess to any of the sport games the boys usually crowded to play. But this was different. 

This was scary different. 

“What’s wrong with you? You look like you’re gonna puke.”

Sunoo blinked, staring at Riki, his heart still beating a little too fast.

What would Riki think of him, if he knew what Sunoo just thought?

“I’m fine. Come on, I’m bored. Let’s go find June and Beomie.”

Riki made a sound like he was going to protest, or maybe push Sunoo further, but Sunoo had already flipped onto his belly and slid down off the top of the slide, catching himself on the purple-painted plastic and the railing of the actual slide platform. 

“I’m ready, come on down!”

He caught the smaller boy as he slid off the plastic, a little less gracefully. Sunoo always got down first, so that he could make sure to catch Riki if he stumbled. 

They headed off to the skate park, finding their older friends quickly and watching them attempt different tricks both on their bikes and Yeonjun’s skateboard, and Sunoo did his best to ignore the lingering shock from his earlier sudden thoughts. 

It was fine; it was just random nonsense. Like Beomgyu had said, he would understand everything more when he was older. He just wasn’t there yet, was all. Maybe he was just confused, with everything so new to his brain.

Sunoo ended up giving Heather a valentine from the box, but on it he wrote that her eyes were very pretty. She smiled at him while she unwrapped the sucker that came with the little card, popping it into her glossy lips as she giggled out a thank you. 

He silently wondered what brand the lip gloss was, because it had stayed shimmery on her lips even after the sucker was gone.

☾

Riki was eleven years old when he first understood the power of music. 

He’d never thought much about it, before. It had always been background noise, of course; Sunoo always had music of some kind playing in his room, and his CD collection seemed to grow consistently. The older boy always hummed along to nearly every song on the radio, too, and Riki could probably join him, but he liked hearing Sunoo’s humming.

That fateful summer had been a particularly hot one, and the Chois had air-conditioning in their house, unlike either of them. So, once they’d spend most afternoons either at the park or down at the creek catching and releasing the tiny minnows that always could be found in the cool water—as well as attempting to fix up their hideout that had gotten busted up from a thunderstorm—they’d head on over to the Chois’ house, flushed and wanting the cool air.

Beomgyu had opened the door for them on that day, his black hair growing out a little shaggy, falling into his eyes and almost to his shoulders. The thirteen, almost fourteen year old had seemed to follow his older brother in terms of fashion—both the older boys’ clothes being mostly dark, their jeans tight and ripped, their shoes chunky and bright, matching the rubber bracelets that lined their arms and the rainbow-studded belts that were highly unnecessary due to the fit of their pants, but looked cool regardless. 

“‘Sup,” the older boy greeted them, waving them inside. “Y’all are just in time for a treat.”

“Ooh, whatcha got?” Sunoo clasped his hands together, bouncing beside Riki as they followed the older boy downstairs to Yeonjun’s basement bedroom. 

“Well, those fruit-bar popsicle things you like, for one—but I was mostly talkin’ about this idiot,” Beomgyu snarked, pointing towards Yeonjun’s bathroom.

“Shut the fuck up, it’s gonna look legit once it’s dry!” the oldest yelled back out over the sound of running water.

“Whatever you gotta tell yourself to justify the major ass-beating Mom’s gonna give you for ruinin' that towel.”

“I told you, dumbass, I’m gonna toss it, and she’ll never know it’s missing—,”

“Uh, what’s he doin’?” Riki asked, concerned. A little shaken, at the casual nature that Beomgyu mentioned them getting beat. He’d never noticed any such bruises or marks on either of them, before, but he knew that didn’t exactly mean anything.

His own father had recently gotten much better at avoiding the easily noticed areas. 

“He fuckin’ dyed his hair. Blue.”

Sunoo gasped, his eyes lighting up. 

“Oooh, that’s gonna look so awesome!” he squealed, and when Yeonjun came back out, shirtless and ruffling his hair with the towel to dry it, Riki caught a tinge of pink on his best friend’s cheeks. 

Interesting.

“See, knew I could count on you, Li’l Sunny,” Yeonjun winked, throwing the towel off onto his bathroom floor as he apparently deemed his hair dry enough. “You got some sense of style, unlike this fucker.”

“Whatever, Smurf.”

“It looks cool already,” Sunoo piped up, shuffling his feet, his cheeks puffed from the compliment. 

“I’m gonna blow-dry it—turn the music up, Beoms, can’t hear shit over this thing—,”

“Whatever, Your Highness,” Beomgyu huffed, tapping Yeonjun’s keyboard to turn up whatever the boys had playing on Youtube. 

Sunoo seemed thoroughly distracted by watching Yeonjun methodically blow-dry his hair, even moving closer and asking the older boy something about the dye. So, Riki sat on the computer chair, knees pulled up to his chest, switching his attention between watching Beomgyu as he sketched on the bed, and the music video playing on Yeonjun’s computer. 

It was loud, for sure. The visuals were quite dark, literally and figuratively, the outfits the band was wearing like an evil sort of marching band. The vocals were a sort of mix of actual singing and basically screaming, emotion dripping from each line, and the drums were crashing, and the guitar—the guitar.

He watched the video as the guitarists of the band played, the guitar solo easily being the best part of the song so far. The sound of it caught Riki somewhere in his chest, his nerves feeling lit up with each riff. Every bit of emotion the singer had put into his vocal performance, Riki could feel escalated with the guitar players, looking as though they’d become completely possessed by it. The song growing and growing and finally crashing, dropping into the bridge and final chorus with a soul-shaking shouting from the singer and the drums kicking back in. But the best part, the part that had Riki covered in goosebumps even after the song ended, was the breathtakingly gorgeous melody of the guitar that rang out from behind the singer’s emotional delivery of the final lyrics. 

Riki sat there, staring at the end screen, until Beomgyu huffed and shook him from his trance. 

“Accidentally turned off the fuckin’ autoplay,” he mumbled as he got up, reaching over Riki for the mouse, before he stopped him.

“Can we listen to that one again?”

“MCR? Yeah, I guess—certified baby emo right here,” Beomgyu laughed, hitting the replay button and turning the autoplay on before sitting back on the bed, sketchpad back in his lap.

Riki ignored what might’ve been a slight dig, figuring Beomgyu sounded a tiny bit more proud than like he was actually making fun of him, and focused again on the song. Epic was a good word for it. It was an anthem. It was a declaration, a statement. Now that he was hearing it again, he could feel the words of the song, too. He could relate to every line of it, he felt. Not just that he understood—he lived this. He lived these words. 

This song was meant for him, in that moment, and from then on, it was his. His mental safe space, his go-to reassurance. No matter how awful things got at home, no matter how beaten-down he was—he was alive, and he was gonna keep living.

“Startin’ ‘em young, Beom?” Yeonjun clicked his tongue, ignoring Sunoo’s staring as he rifled around his overflowing closet for a shirt, his hair indeed a bright blue-raspberry shade now that it was properly dried. “Ain’t that one a bit scary for him to be watching?”

“Please, I was watching and listenin' to all your emo shit when I was their age,” Beomgyu rolled his eyes, and Riki bounced a little in the computer chair. 

“It’s not scary, it’s cool. I like it.”

“Future Scene King right there,” Yeonjun cackled, slipping his shirt over his head—a slim-fitted band tee displaying unreadable words and neon-bright art, one that rose up over the boy’s slim hips, leaving a stretch of pale skin above his jeans. Riki was pretty sure that shirt was a girls’ fit, but that didn’t seem to stop Sunoo from admiring the outfit. Or, maybe, just the boy wearing it. 

“MCR is not Scene, Yeonjun, you fuckin’ uncultered—,”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, technicalities,” Yeonjun interrupted what sounded like an overly-rehearsed argument, digging through his mini-fridge and throwing Sunoo a strawberry popsicle with a quick wink. 

Sunoo caught it, his face almost as red as the popsicle, and honestly, Riki didn’t think it was that warm in the room. 

“‘Kay, what the fuck ever—anyway, June, listen—you know that guy I’ve been talkin’ to on Myspace—,”

“Which I’m telling you, Beoms, is pro'lly actually a fuckin’ fifty-year old perv, and you should definitely block—,”

“And I’m tellin’ you we don’t even talk like that, you nasty—,”

“‘Yeah, ‘cuz groomers don’t just bust right in with the sexual shit—,”

“Stop interrupting me, damn it, this is important! Anyway, so he goes by Terry, right, but he says that’s really more like his adopted name—Yeonjun, he said his name is Taehyun.”

Yeonjun stopped at that, standing up from his fridge quickly, handing Riki a popsicle before plopping down on his bed. His eyes were wide, the red LED strip lights strung up along the tops of the walls that served as the only lighting in the room reflecting in them as he stared his brother down.

“Taehyun?”

“It has…it has to be him, right, June?” Beomgyu breathed out, sitting up straighter now that Yeonjun seemed as shocked as himself. “It has to—how many adopted Taehyuns my age are really roamin’ around out there?”

“Does he live nearby, did he say—,”

“No, obviously we haven’t really talked about where we live, not in detail like that, I know he’s in the states—,”

“You…should ask him.”

“I don’t wanna freak him out!”

“I’ll ask him—,”

“No!” 

Sunoo was watching the drama go down with bright eyes as he sucked the popsicle, his lips staining red. Riki changed his mind; maybe it was a little bit warm in the room.

The loud music played on behind it all, providing quite the fitting soundtrack as the older boys argued, spitting increasingly confusing and strange insults at each other. Sunoo laughed occasionally, finally sitting on top of the mini-fridge beside the desk, turning his attention to Riki. 

“Your popsicle’s gonna melt, Ki-Ki.”

Riki stared at him, then looked down at the red juice running down onto his fingers. He licked it quickly, before shoving the popsicle into his mouth.

“Think I could do that?” he asked around his mouthful of strawberry-flavored ice, nodding towards the computer screen, where another band’s song was playing, the video currently focused on the guitarist.

“Sure, if you learned,” Sunoo said, licking his reddened lips.

“We don’t get to have music class until junior high, that’s so lame.”

“Maybe Beomgyu will teach you a bit. He has a guitar, you know.”

Riki hummed, glancing over at the older boys who had now just taken to roughhousing, shoving at each other hard and laughing at their ridiculous insults. 

“Yeah, maybe.”

“You could play guitar, and I could sing.”

“Yeah, we could make our own band.”

“What should we call it?”

Riki rolled his eyes up in thought, biting his lip. Sunoo tapped on the desk, humming around his popsicle.

“We’ll have to think 'bout that.”

“Strawberry Ice.”

“Sun-noo, that’s dumb.”

“Strawberries and Cream.”

“That’s even worse!”

“Strawberry Lemonade—,”

“That’s—well, actually, that’s not terrible, I guess.”

Sunoo giggled, licking up a bit of juice that trickled onto his hand, and Riki watched him, his own popsicle dripping onto the desk as it melted. He wiped it with his sleeve, before biting down onto the ice.

It was cold on his teeth, but his cheeks stayed flushed from the way Sunoo’s giggle seemed to harmonize perfectly with the noisy, harsh music that filled the room and his heart with an untapped energy. 

☀

Sunoo was twelve, and he was in love.  

At least, from what he thinks being in love is—that’s what he was feeling. 

He could barely contain himself as he got ready for school one Monday morning, his excitement echoed by the poppy, energetic music he had blasting from his radio (his mom was already gone for work, thank God, so he could sing his heart out and properly express himself.)

Being twelve, and starting sixth grade, was already quite exciting in itself without the whole being in love thing. This was the last year he and Riki would be stuck in stupid elementary school, and next year they would be joining Beomgyu and Yeonjun at the high school. Of course, being in junior high, they wouldn’t have much interaction with the older boys throughout the day, but still, it was the principle of it. 

He wasn’t a baby anymore, and he was positive he could get Yeonjun to see that.

Yeonjun, the love of his life. Yeonjun, with his pretty, faded blue hair, only looking even better with his dark roots growing out. Yeonjun, with his skintight black jeans and leather jacket and his rainbow Converse. Yeonjun, who wore makeup—even if it was just eyeliner—and painted his nails black, had multiple piercings in his ears, and even had colored contacts, sometimes. 

Yeonjun, who didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought about him. 

Sunoo thought the world of him. Sunoo thought he was the coolest, prettiest boy.  

And, of course, Yeonjun always took care of him, as well as Riki, which only made Sunoo’s heart flutter even more. He never complained about them hanging around him at the skatepark, even when his similarly-dressed friends poked fun at him for having the younger boys around all the time. He always spent some time with them whenever they came over to his house, even if he was busy doing homework or texting people on his phone, or had to leave to meet up with his friends. He watched over them at the bus stop, and the glare he gave to the strange adults that hung around the park for seemingly no reason and watched him and Riki sometimes—Sunoo thought it made him look so hot, especially when he would hang his arms around them, keeping them close as he would pull them away from the strange gazes. 

He’d even let Sunoo (and Riki) go through the clothes he and Beomgyu had grown out of and were going to donate to the Goodwill, after much complimenting and gushing about how cool they always looked. Most of it was still a little too big for Riki, who still hadn’t quite hit his growth spurt, but Sunoo encouraged him to take some for when he would. 

As for himself—he turned, twisting, looking himself up and down in his mirror, pursing his lips at the way his black jeans fit him, wondering if his mom was right about him being too chubby and needing to stop eating so much. She’d said it again at dinner, the night before, and Dave had laughed, instead of telling her how Sunoo was a “growing boy” like he had a couple times before.

He patted at his cheeks, sucking them in a bit, sighing at the way they still poked out and made his face look chubby when he smiled. The way the band t-shirt still hung over his frame was a bit flowy, but he decided it still looked cool, and did well at hiding the bit of softness on his belly anyway. 

He turned his attention instead to his hair. It had grown a bit longer, to the point where he could tuck a few strands of his fringe behind his ear, and it tickled the back of his neck. His mom kept threatening to cut it if he didn’t, but he didn’t care, and she seemed to keep forgetting about it. Her comments were more aimed towards his weight these days, anyway, and she always tacked on the hair thing at the end, as if to just have something else to point out. 

Sunoo brushed it down, wondering if he could convince Yeonjun to help him dye it. He thinks highlights would look nice, like the ones Beomgyu had before he put red in them.

The final touch—he pulled out the old mascara he’d taken from his mom’s makeup drawer in the bathroom, and applied just a little bit, the way he’d seen girls do on TV. It looked nice enough, though it felt strangely wet and a little sticky, and it made him realize how long his eyelashes were. Sunoo hummed, and decided that might be one of his favorite features.

As he was putting on his chapstick, he looked himself over in the mirror yet again, smiling. 

He looked pretty. 

Sunoo waited for Riki outside, so they could walk to the bus stop together, as usual, and he sighed as the autumn breeze ruffled his hair. No wonder girls got so huffy about the wind. 

Riki, bless him, still seemed smaller than eleven years old as he walked down the broken sidewalk with one hand stuffed into his jean pocket, the other holding the strap of his backpack tight. His hair had grown longer, too, but shaggier, definitely in need of a trim, the dark brown strands hanging down onto his face as he kept his eyes glued to the ground. Sunoo normally did this for the younger, with the help and supervision of either Yeonjun or Beomgyu, but the past month or so, he’d been a bit preoccupied whenever they were at the Chois’. 

He looked up from his constant gaze at the ground when Sunoo hollered, and his eyes widened a bit behind the plastic-framed glasses that the boy now had to wear, after the new school nurse actually called his parents about his abysmal eyesight after their school’s annual hearing and vision tests instead of just sending reports home with them. Riki hated them, because they were the cheapest, ugliest pair that his parents could bother to afford to get for him, if only to avoid hounding and suspicion from the school. Secretly, Sunoo thought they looked quite cute on the younger boy.

“I really need to trim your hair,” Sunoo hummed, resolutely, and Riki just shook his hair from his face, blinking. 

“Are you wearin’ makeup?” he gaped, pushing his glasses back up his nose. 

“Just a li’l. Don’t it look nice?” Sunoo smiled, quickly taking the boy by his hand and starting off to the bus stop, not giving the younger a chance to answer either way. “Come on, we’re runnin’ late, I’m pretty sure.”

Riki grumbled, never one to be very awake in the early morning. Sunoo slowed his steps when he heard Riki let out a quiet hiss under his breath, his arm jerking slightly from Sunoo’s light pulling. 

Swallowing hard, Sunoo glanced over as he allowed the younger to catch up to him, matching his pace. He looked fine, from what Sunoo could see. He was a bit slow, but steady, and not limping or anything, so that was good, at least. 

He squeezed Riki’s hand, looking ahead once they got closer to the stop, trying to stamp down the wild grin that threatened at his lips when he saw Yeonjun there already, Beomgyu beside him with his attention fully on his purple Motorola Razr (which Sunoo was incredibly jealous of, yes) as he texted with quick fingers.  

Trying to stay cool, he kept the bounce in his step down, joining the older boys with no hesitation despite the raised looks some of their friends gave him and Riki, as they kept their hands clasped together tight. A few of them were smoking, and Sunoo felt a sneeze rising up from the familiar scent. 

“Hi, Beomie, hi Junie,” he chirped, rocking back on his heels as Yeonjun turned to him from the girl he’d been talking to, giving him a sweet smile. 

“Hey, Li’l Sunny. Riki.”

“Can we still come over after school today?” Sunoo asked, blinking, wondering if Yeonjun thought his eyelashes were pretty. 

“Ah—well, sure, but I pro’lly won’t be hangin’ around long,” the older boy hummed, scratching the back of his neck. “Got some shi—stuff to do with my friends, tonight.”

“Oh. Well, that’s okay, Beomie you’ll be there, right?”

“Hm—huh, oh. Yeah. Sure, Kid…,”

“‘Course he will, loser barely leaves the house,” Yeonjun teased, jabbing at his brother’s arm and snickering when he backed away, flicking his red-streaked hair from his eyes and flipping Yeonjun off with a glare. 

“We’ll come by then, I need to cut Riki’s hair!” Sunoo said, patting down Riki’s hair as if this explained things. 

“Alright, then, see you later,” Yeonjun smiled again, turning back to the girl with purple streaks in her dark hair, her green eyes lined with a perfect wing, her top lacy and her black pants fashionably baggy. Yeonjun leaned against the stop sign with his arms crossed lightly, nodding and humming in agreement with everything she said as he watched her. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her pierced ear, and she blushed.

“Your hat is so cute, Junie,” Sunoo piped up again, biting his lip when the fifteen-year-old looked down at him, his eyes squinted a bit from his grin. 

“Yeah? Thanks, it’s a bit old, actually," Yeonjun drawled, taking off the black, faux-leather newsboy cap and running his fingers through his frayed blue hair. 

“Think it’d look cuter on you,” he nodded, fixing the cap onto Sunoo’s head with a little smirk, brushing Sunoo’s fringe from his eyes and patting his hair down in the back as he straightened the cap. Apparently completely oblivious to the fact that Sunoo was about to pass the hell out. 

“Oh—haha, thank you,” he squeaked out, his grip on Riki’s hand probably hurting the poor boy at this point. 

“No pro’lem, Sunny,” Yeonjun mumbled, and Sunoo barely registered the way the girl cooed at him, telling Yeonjun how cute and adorable his “little cousin” was as the bus pulled up. The older kids got on first, as usual, and Sunoo led Riki to their usual seat, every nerve in his body lit on fire. 

Riki didn’t seem to have much to say, one headphone in his ear connected to the old Ipod Yeonjun had given him as he stared out the bus window, either ignoring or not caring about the way Sunoo was practically vibrating next to him. He hummed here and there as Sunoo rambled about their classes, some of the drama he’d already heard from their classmates about things that happened over the summer, and about their plans for later, so Sunoo knew he was at least sort of listening. 

Sunoo had gotten quite a few compliments as they headed to homeroom, mostly from a few of his closer girl friends, Heather included, and even some of the more popular girls that normally ignored his existence altogether. One boy told him his hat was “cool”, though, if that meant anything, and another pointed out the band on the shirt he was wearing. 

He counted it as a win, considering that this was the most attention he’d gotten from his classmates thus far. 

Riki stayed stuck beside him, even though he seemed a bit put-off by the sudden increase in attention, growing somehow even quieter the more people that talked to them. Even as they sat down at their four-grouped desks in homeroom, he stayed a bit hunched over, fiddling with his binder as Sunoo made light conversation with the two girls that sat across from them. 

Sunoo rode that high all day, until gym came along. 

He'd had to change, obviously, as was required, and he left the hat with his clothes in the locker room, which left his hair looser. It wasn't long enough that he could've tied it back like the girls usually did, but it was just long enough to be slightly annoying as they played. 

And he couldn't help but notice that the guys were being rougher with him than usual, especially during dodgeball.

He and Riki were never really picked quickly for teams during games, but Sunoo had never been left to be picked last, before. During the actual games, he seemed to be the main target, getting hit out just as quickly as he could get thrown back in. Normally he wouldn't care, because he really didn't even enjoy gym anyway and liked having the excuse to sit out—but this had felt much more personal.

Even Riki seemed to notice, asking if he was okay each time he got out and sat beside Sunoo. Sunoo only nodded; the small foam balls didn't really hurt that much, physically. It was his ego that was becoming bruised. 

Until the last game, where it seemed that the other guys' main target was his face, even though it didn't even count to get somebody out if the ball hit their face.

One of the stockier boys got a good shot, hitting him square on the nose. He cried out as he fell back, less from the pain and more from the way his hand came back bloody as he pulled it away from his face.

He heard Riki gasp softly through the laughter of the other boys as he helped Sunoo up, wincing at the blood.

"C’mon, let's go to the teacher," he mumbled, and Sunoo nodded, feeling his breathing grow faster, trying desperately not to cry in front of everyone. God only knew how much worse the teasing would get if they saw him crying.

He was so distraught as he changed back into his clothes, while the teacher got him an ice pack before sending him off to the nurse, that he didn't realize he'd left the hat behind. 

Not until later, of course, when he and Riki were walking to the park, and a group of the boys from their gym class as well as some that looked a bit older stopped them on the sidewalk, blocking their way. 

"Aw, this your little boyfriend, Sunny?" one of the boys, with blond, spiky gelled hair teased, pointing at him and Riki holding hands, earning snickers from the others.

"Shut up, let us through," Sunoo huffed, squeezing Riki's hand and trying to pull him around the group. Two of the boys shoved him back, though, and the blond one grabbed his shirt.

"Don't be a little bitch, now, Sunny, we got something of yours. We just wanna return it to its rightful owner!" the boy quipped, and Sunoo felt his eyes grow wide when another boy pulled his hat from his backpack.

"Give that back," he snapped, letting go of Riki to reach out for the hat, whimpering when two boys grabbed him by his arms and held him back.

"Let go of him!" Riki choked out, but none of the boys paid him any mind, their focus entirely on Sunoo.

"It's a little faggy, though, I think it belongs in the sewer, like the rest of that gay shit," the blond sneered, grabbing the hat and throwing it into the run off along the curb that trickled down to the sewer grate. 

Sunoo let out a little whine, trying to hold back tears as a couple of the boys laughed while they stomped on it, ruining the material, before finally shoving it down one of the holes of the grate.

"You probably belong there too, Homo," one of the older boys said before roughly shoving Sunoo off the sidewalk, the group busting into raucous laughter as he hit the ground hard. They high-fived and jeered, occasionally spitting another insult or two. 

Sunoo sat up on his knees, which had been scraped right through the thinner jean material from the force of his fall, and probably bruised. The palms of his hands weren't any better, both of them raw and red, bleeding lightly. He didn't want to think about how dirty the water was that he was sitting in, but he also didn't really care. He didn't want to get up, and face the humiliation of it all. 

He didn't want them to see the tears on his cheeks.

"Sun-noo, come on, let's just go," Riki said, crouching beside him, pulling at his shirt.

"Yeah, Sunny, listen to your nerdy little boyfriend!"

"Aww, don't cry, you'll ruin your makeup, fag!"

"The fuck is goin' on here?"

Sunoo looked up at the sound of Yeonjun's voice—his wonderful, lovely voice.

As tough as the boys seemed to think they were in front of Sunoo and Riki, they sure seemed to shrink into themselves when Yeonjun came closer, shoving them back and pulling Sunoo up to his feet. His face grew stonier once he saw Sunoo's tears, and the blood on his palms.

"They do this to you, Li'l Sunny?" he asked, his voice softer, as he wiped Sunoo's cheeks. Sunoo nodded, sniffling, tiny sobs catching in his chest as he looked up. If he spoke, he knew he would start crying for real.

"You all think you're fuckin' cool, huh? Tough, for pickin' on two smaller kids?" Yeonjun spat out, standing tall over the boys, his shoulders squared, looking quite intimidating with his leather jacket.

"W-we were just, just—messin' around, it was just—,"

"It was just jokes, really—,"

"We just meant to, to, you know, tease him, a little—,"

"Yeah, whatever, lie all you want, but if I ever see any of you fucking with him, or anyone, like this again, you're not gonna fuckin' like having the the tables turned on your sorry asses! Fuck off, now, before I give you a sneak peek of it!"

The group scurried off, not bothering to say anything else as they headed towards the park. Sunoo swallowed around the lump in his throat when Yeonjun bent down to his height, his eyes warm and concerned as he tilted Sunoo's head up to look at him again.

"Are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere else?" He asked, holding the backs of Sunoo's hands.

Sunoo shook his head, but when his eyes caught on the storm drain, he couldn't hold back his crying anymore.

"They t-took the h-hat," he forced out, "yours, th-that you g-gave me. And threw it, d-down there."

Yeonjun sighed, standing up tall and pulling Sunoo into a hug. He wrapped his arms around the older boy's waist, sniffling into his shirt.

"That's alright—don't be too upset over that, Kid, it was just a cheap ol' thing anyway. As long as you're not hurt, that's what’s important."

Sunoo just cried more, his shoulders shaking when Yeonjun rubbed his back softly.

"But you gave it to me," he sobbed, sure he was soaking the boy's shirt. He wasn't sure if Yeonjun even heard him properly, the way he was crying, but it felt like he held Sunoo a bit closer.

"It's okay, Kid. You're alright. Come on, we'll just head right home, get you cleaned up, 'kay?"

The walk back to the Chois' was somber. Yeonjun kept a hand on Sunoo's shoulder, carrying his skateboard in his other arm. Riki was even quieter than he usually was, but he held Sunoo's wrist firmly, squeezing each time Sunoo sniffled. 

Beomgyu took one look at them from his spot at the computer as they walked into Yeonjun's bedroom, and cursed, typing something before heading into Yeonjun's bathroom.

"Don't you have your own room?" Yeonjun sighed, not much bite behind his words.

"You have the computer, asshole," Beomgyu called out, "where the hell do you keep the first aid stuff?"

Yeonjun led Sunoo over, sitting him down on the lid of the toilet, shoving Beomgyu over lightly as he dug around in the cupboard above the sink.

"It's right in front of you, are you goin' blind from sittin' in front of that computer all the time?"

Beomgyu rolled his eyes, snatching the stuff from Yeonjun and settling down in front of Sunoo. He cleaned Sunoo's abraded kneecaps and palms, apologizing as it stung, and slathered ointment on them before covering them with the extra large bandaids.

"Who do we have to beat up, Sunny?" he huffed, and Yeonjun snorted. 

"Don't worry, I won't forget those snot-nosed little brats' faces."

"'Course you won't," Beomgyu sighed, mumbling under his breath, "must be nice, bein' able to remember everything."

He patted Sunoo's head once he was done, but Sunoo didn't move.

"Can you trim my hair? It's too long," he mumbled. 

Yeonjun tsked, but dug a pair of scissors from his drawer and handed them to Beomgyu.

"I'm gonna go tell the guys somethin' came up."

Beomgyu nodded, tucking a towel around Sunoo's shoulders before starting. Each little sound of a snip made Sunoo feel like he was dying inside, and it took everything in him to not start crying again.

Once he was done, Beomgyu offered to do Riki's as well, sensing that Sunoo wasn't quite in the mood for his usual haircut lessons. Riki took his spot, giving his arm a squeeze with a mumbled little "looks nice, Sun-noo".

Yeonjun was sitting up against the headboard of his bed, typing on his phone when Sunoo came out of the bathroom. He looked up at the sound of Sunoo's dragging footsteps, and patted the bed beside him.

Sunoo hopped up, settling next to Yeonjun and leaning into his side, resting his head onto his shoulder wordlessly.

"Don't listen to any of the bullshit those assholes, or anyone else says. There's nothin’ wrong with you the way you are. Don’t let anyone else’s stupid fuckin’ opinions keep you from being yourself. You didn’t deserve that.”

Sunoo nodded, rolling the bottom of his shirt over his hands in his lap. It felt like he did, somehow.

"I’m serious—don't hide yourself away for anyone, Sunny. Trust me. One day, someone will love you so much for everything you are. So much that you won't even know what to do with it. And you'll love them, too, just as much."

Sunoo felt butterflies in his stomach at those words, but as much as he wanted to believe them, it felt impossible, in that moment.

"How do you know?" he mumbled, swallowing hard when Yeonjun chuckled, patting his hair.

"I know lots of things, Sunny. I can see the future."

Sunoo furrowed his brow, looking up at Yeonjun with a confused frown. The older just smiled, his eyes twinkling.

"Besides, you know me and Beomie and Riki love you, right?"

It was telling, the way Yeonjun didn't bother to include his mother in that, but that thought was overshadowed by Yeonjun saying he loved him.

"I love you too, Junie," he whispered, his stomach growing warm when Yeonjun wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"You'll be alright, Kid. You're a tough one."

Sunoo took a deep breath, hoping Yeonjun was right. He would have to be, it seemed. 

Because Sunoo wasn't just in love—he was in love with a boy. He hadn't even admitted it to anyone, and yet he was already being punished for it. Maybe he didn't want attention from his classmates after all.

It kinda sucked being twelve.

☾

Riki turned twelve years old, and not even a full month later, he experienced his first kiss.

The pivotal moment came like this: he and Sunoo couldn't spend New Year's Eve at the Chois' to watch the ball drop like they had the past couple of New Year's, because the two older boys were at an actual party that year. One that Sunoo had tried to weasel himself and Riki into, which had been a vehement no from Yeonjun. This left the two to have to sneak Riki into Sunoo's for the occasion, which had been quite easy and anticlimactic considering Sunoo's mom was out for the evening as well. 

Sunoo had told Riki this with a roll of his eyes and a harsh muttering under his breath about "annoying-ass Dave," so Riki figured he shouldn't push the topic.

They were holed up in Sunoo's bedroom, watching the New Year's Rockin' Eve program as per their usual tradition. Riki had been extra excited for it this year, because one of his favorite bands had been performing. Sunoo got quite a kick out of Riki's enthusiastic sing-along as he mimicked the guitarist, his mind and his movements making connections with the guitar lessons Beomgyu had been giving him. He might have had to endure some teasing in the future, but he didn't care. It would have been more fun with the older boys there, too, of course—but Riki would never complain about spending time with Sunoo regardless.

"Oh good, commercial, I gotta pee. I'm gonna grab more juice on the way back, you want some?"

Riki nodded, holding out his matching plastic wine glass that Sunoo had dug out for them to use.

While Sunoo was gone, Riki took the opportunity from the commercial break to look around Sunoo's room. It wasn't like he never came around anymore or anything (quite the opposite; they'd gotten bolder these days about sneaking Riki in through the window) but it seemed like every time he did, Sunoo had added something or done something new to the room. 

He'd recently gotten obsessed with taking pictures, having gotten a couple disposable cameras, and was always dragging Riki along to the Walgreens down the block to have the pictures developed and get a new one. He'd hung a few new ones up along with his fairy lights above his desk, most of them being of him and Riki at the park, some at school, a few with Beomgyu and Yeonjun. One of him with a small group of girls at the park, and Riki only really recognized Heather with her arm around Sunoo's waist. One in the middle of Sunoo with just Yeonjun, the older boy winking at the camera, Sunoo's cheeks pink and puffed out from his wide grin.

Riki looked at the picture beside it, one of him and Sunoo. Sunoo had a duck pout going on, which was only just slightly less awkward than his own smile. The other boy was wearing the new hat Yeonjun had given him to replace the one Sunoo had lost, and Riki smiled as he recalled how thrilled Sunoo had been, wearing it almost constantly for a few weeks. 

He had to admit, though, as he stared at the photo, that the shoddy home-bleach job Sunoo and Beomgyu had done to his hair didn't look half-bad there. His hair was still a golden sort of dirty blond, though his roots had begun to grow out—but Sunoo said it looked cool, so it must've not been too bad. Even if it made his hair feel kinda dry and a little frizzy. They'd used the leftover mixture to give Sunoo highlights, which looked pretty nice in Sunoo's feathery soft hair.

"What’re you snoopin' around for? The show's back on, come on! We only got five minutes left to midnight!"

Riki blinked, pushing his (stupid, dumb, nerdy ) glasses up his nose, and took the glass that Sunoo nearly shoved into his hands. He huffed, licking the bit of juice that splashed out, the liquid fizzing on his tongue.

Sunoo had set his own glass down after taking a drink, plopping himself back down onto his belly atop the blankets they'd laid out on the floor in front of the TV. Riki joined him, his tummy rumbling loudly from the carbonation of the drink.

They watched the broadcasters talk, the crowd in the shot growing more excited as the countdown kept dropping. They got down to three minutes, and Sunoo finally stopped shifting restlessly to say whatever was obviously on his mind.

"Y'know, you're s'posed to kiss someone at midnight, if you want the new year to be a lucky one."

Riki looked over, watching as the other boy ran a finger across the rim of his glass, only taking quick seconds to glance up at the TV.

"Ain't that just a movie thing?" he asked, brow furrowed. He looked up; two minutes left.

"Nuh-uh, I even asked Junie, and he said it's totally a real thing people do!"

"Oh, well, if Junie said so—,"

"He did!"

Riki rolled his eyes with a quick smirk. Sunoo was so obvious sometimes that it hurt, but Riki didn't say anything further. 

A minute and a half.

"Well, what then? Who are we s'posed to kiss? Each other?"

"Well, I didn't say we had to, just that, it's good luck if we do…,"

One minute.

"You wanna kiss me?"

"Well, who else am I gonna kiss, Riki?"

"Maybe I don't wanna kiss you."

"Fine!"

Riki turned his head to the side when Sunoo huffed to hide his smile from riling up his friend, and the tinge of pink on his cheeks, catching the countdown as he did so.

Thirty seconds.

"I was just playin', Sun-noo. Don’t get all pissy."

"So you'll kiss me, then?"

"If you want."

Ten seconds.

Sunoo scooted closer, his eyes bright as they reflected the lights on the TV, and Riki sucked in a deep breath, not quite prepared for the sudden closeness as Sunoo brought his face up to Riki's.

He wasn't sure if he was supposed to say something, beforehand—it seemed awkward to just go right to laying a kiss on someone—but as the countdown reached zero and the ball lit up on the TV to a cheering crowd, Riki found himself at a loss for words as his and Sunoo's lips touched.

It was…strange. Sunoo's lips were soft, probably from all the chapstick he used, but they were also a bit wet, slimy, almost. They tasted like the sparkling grape juice they'd been drinking, and the leftover carbonation on his lips from the drink felt tingly and cool on Riki's. Their noses bumped together from the awkward angle, and Riki's glasses slid down again. It seemed as if Sunoo didn't really know what to do at this point any better than he did, so they just sort of kept their lips pressed together, their eyes closed.

Until Sunoo let out a tiny breath from his nose, pulling back just enough to press in again, this time slower, in sort of a motion as if he were pursing his lips against Riki's. The movement made things feel different, and Riki felt goosebumps raise up on his arms. He still wasn't exactly sure that he could say he liked it, though, the whole kissing thing. It was odd, and not nearly as fun as people made it out to be.

But when Sunoo pulled away with his long eyelashes fluttering along Riki's cheeks for a quick second, and a breathless giggle leaving his shiny, grape juice and cherry chapstick flavored lips, his eyes shiny and sparkly beneath his fringe as they met his own—Riki thinks he didn't mind that part at all. 

"That was weird," Sunoo giggled, his cheeks matching the pink from his photo with Yeonjun, and Riki was sure his own were about the same.

"Yeah. Weird."

"You're a good kisser, though."

Riki didn't think that was true, considering neither he nor Sunoo knew the first thing about 'good kissing.'

"...You too, I guess?"

Sunoo laughed, and Riki licked his lips, feeling jittery all of a sudden as he pushed his glasses up, his fingers trembling ever so lightly.

"I'm just messin' with you, Ki-Ki, ya don't gotta look so freaked out!"

"I ain't freaked out!"

"Really?"

"No, 'course not, why, why would I be freaked out? I ain't freaked out. I think you're freaked out!"

Sunoo raised a brow, before sitting up, sipping his juice.

"You ain't freaked out about kissin' a boy?" 

Riki blinked quickly, sitting up himself and taking a drink. That small fact hadn't even really registered until Sunoo said it, but he found it didn't really change anything about what he thought.

"Whatever, it's just you."

"What's that s'posed to mean?" Sunoo frowned, his face growing stiff, his lips pouty. Riki backpedaled, not sure what Sunoo was offended by.

"Not nothin' bad, it's just, you know, it's…it's you."

"What, I don't count? I'm not a boy to you? You don't consider me a boy?"

"No—yes, that's not—I just meant—it's you, like. It's just you, y'know? My best friend. My Sun-noo."

Sunoo's face relaxed at that, and his eyes seemed to soften a bit in the dim glow of his string lights and the reflection of the TV. 

"...Yeah, and you're my Ki-Ki. I get it."

Riki's shoulders relaxed, and he nodded, glad Sunoo understood where he was coming from, "it's just different."

"Yeah. Probably still shouldn't tell no one, though."

"Well—no, 'course not, why would we do that?"

He could feel Sunoo's eyes on him, as he twisted the fake wine glass around, sloshing the remaining bit of juice.

"I'm tired," he eventually said. Riki wasn't sure how that was possible considering the amount of sugar they'd consumed that evening, but he nodded anyway when Sunoo suggested going to bed, figuring it wasn't any fun to stay up while Sunoo slept.

He couldn't sleep, though, left wide awake and staring at the ceiling while Sunoo slept curled up into a ball beside him, facing away, as if to keep himself from accidentally touching Riki at all.

There was a lot to think about, but it seemed like his mind couldn't quite decide on one thing to focus on at a time. So he closed his eyes, and tried to not think at all. 

Until he heard Sunoo's mom getting home. And her footsteps growing louder, closer. 

Riki scrambled, dropping off the bed and onto the floor, before scooting himself underneath the bed quickly, just in time as she opened Sunoo's door. 

For once, he was glad he was still small for a twelve-year-old.

She stood there for a while as Riki held his breath, and for a moment, he thought maybe she was just glad to see her son sleeping so peacefully, or debating waking him up to tell him Happy New Year.

It seemed neither was the case, though, as she sighed harshly, coming into the room and unplugging the lights above Sunoo's desk and the ones above his TV and mirror. 

"Fuckin' kid, always driving up the Goddamn electricity bill. How many times I gotta fuckin' tell the little bastard…,"

She muttered to herself as he left, closing the door a little loudly behind her—but Sunoo didn't wake up apparently, still resting quietly, his breathing slow and even as Riki carefully climbed back into the bed.

That's when he realized that he and Sunoo hadn't even said Happy New Year to each other.

He pressed his lips together tight, unsure. On one hand, he didn't wanna wake Sunoo up, and surely it was something that could wait 'til morning. But on the other hand, what if not saying it after kissing canceled out the whole good luck part of the New Year's kiss? Then the whole kiss would have been for nothing!

He debated for a minute, eventually deciding that he didn't want to risk them losing their good luck—Sunoo had brought the whole idea up for a reason, after all, and Riki didn't want him to miss out.

"Sun-noo, hey—wake up."

"Mmmh, no."

"Sun-noo, come on! It's important!"

Sunoo groaned, flipping over, opening one eye as Riki laid down beside him.

"What?"

"Happy New Year! We didn't say it after the kiss! That's gotta be part of the rule, right? So Happy New Year!"

Sunoo blinked both of his bleary eyes open, staring at Riki, before smiling. A tiny, sleepy little smile that was always reserved for their late-night talks.

"Happy New Year, Ki-Ki."

With that, his eyes fell shut again, and he curled up again, hugging his pillow. He didn't back turn over, though, so Riki made himself comfortable before reaching up under Sunoo's pillow to hold his hand—relaxing further into the covers when Sunoo squeezed back lightly.

They didn't hold hands too often at school or at the park, anymore, after the incident with Sunoo that one terrible day. Even after Yeonjun had scared those guys off, the guys in their grade had apparently made up their minds about him anyway, either ignoring him altogether or being outright hostile in their interactions. There had been other instances—shoves into lockers, “accidentally” spilling stuff onto his clothes, spitballs and other things thrown at him while the teachers’ backs were turned. Name-calling and insulting his looks were hardly the worst of it, anymore, and yet—Sunoo never cried again, since that awful day. 

He always kept his chin up; he would look the other boys right in the eye as they spat nasty words about him. He would grin as they called him a girl, or a “gay emo”, or worse. He’d flutter his eyes and ask if they thought his makeup made him look pretty whenever they tried to make fun of him for wearing it. He’d laugh, or roll his eyes, or ignore their presence. Once, after a boy had shoved him into the desk, he’d infamously gasped out a little “oh, rough, I like it!” which had left Riki unable to speak to him for a couple of hours without turning scarlet red in the face, much to Sunoo’s amusement. That incident had led to even more awful things said about him, rumors spread about him that even reached the junior high—Beomgyu had not been very happy once he’d heard about it all, and had even warned Sunoo about goading all of them—and Sunoo simply seemed as if he couldn’t care less.

Yet, he still would not hold Riki’s hand in front of anyone besides the Chois. Riki suspected, though, that it had less to do with what everyone thinks, and more to do with being an attempt of sorts to shield Riki from receiving the same torment.

But when they were alone, Sunoo didn't ever seem to mind, and so Riki never hesitated.

He always slept better like that anyway.

☀

Sunoo was thirteen when he experienced his first heartbreak. 

That wasn’t exactly true; he thinks his heart had been broken for a long time, actually—perhaps first was when his dad had left them, and when he’d had to move schools away from his first friends. Maybe even further back, when he’d first heard his mom say she never actually wanted a child, he was a mistake, and not a happy one.

But, this one had certainly hit him the hardest, at that point in his life. Puberty probably had a hand in it—his hormones out of control, quick to upset and anger in a way he never really had been before. Everything felt so much bigger, so much more, every emotion turned up to ten all the time. 

“I just don’t get it, Riki!”

“Sorry, Sun-noo. I’m sorry.”

“What’s so great about that girl, anyway? What does she have that I don’t?”

“Well, I could point out a couple things—,”

“Shut up! I obviously didn’t mean it like that! Besides, I’m still prettier than her, right? You think so, right?”

“Well. She is actually his age, and you ain’t. That prob’ly has a bit to do with it.”

Sunoo sighed shakily, a sob caught in his throat, and the tears finally fell when Riki wrapped an arm around him, pulling him closer. 

They were sat on the little makeshift wooden bench they’d haphazardly set up by their creek hideout—they’d stolen a long piece of particle board that someone had left or dropped at the train tracks where they hung out sometimes, and stacked it up on top of two large rocks, a couple more holding it in place. They’d gone straight there after being at the park that afternoon, taking turns on Yeonjun’s skateboard themselves, Riki being much more coordinated with it than Sunoo—and witnessing the event that had sent Sunoo into his downward spiral. 

Yeonjun had been kissing that girl friend of his, against the chain-link fence of the skatepark. And not just friendly, playful kisses like he and Riki did sometimes (mostly when hanging out with their few other friends from their seventh-grade class, almost all girls, who took great amusement and interest from daring them to do so, always squealing and giggling whenever they would actually follow through.) No, Yeonjun was kissing her deeply, and it had stabbed Sunoo right in his heart. 

“I just—but he—but I—it’s just—not fair!” he sobbed out, letting his head fall to Riki’s shoulder, “I love him! I definitely love him more than she could!”

“Yeah, I know, Sun-noo. ‘Course you do.”

Riki did know. Riki knew before Sunoo had even told him. Sunoo had been somewhat terrified the day he had sat with Riki on the swings at the park that past summer and came out to him as gay, despite knowing deep down that Riki wouldn’t care whatsoever. Spoiler alert, Riki hadn’t cared, and had instead immediately called him out for his “disgustingly obvious” crush on Yeonjun. 

“Disgusting?”

“Not ‘cuz of the gay thing—just because it’s sickeningly obvious. Please learn some subtlety.”

“I don’t think it’s possible for me to be subtle, Ki-Ki.”

“Yeah, pro’lly not. Love you anyway, I guess.”

“Love you too. Now, more importantly—to start planning first day of school outfits!”

“Ugh.”

“It’s seventh grade, Riki! We gotta make a statement.”

“It’s not a fashion statement, it’s a fuckin’ deathwish.”

“Oh, hey—that line actually makes sense now, wow, never realized—,”

“You’re a fake emo. Poser prep.”

“Pff, okay, Riki Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way.”

“ ‘I'm not related to Gerard Way but I wish I was because he's a major fuckin’ hottie’—,”

“The fact that you can quote that dumb shit so easily is horrific. Please spend less time with Beomie for your own sake. I’m sure you could get guitar lessons somewhere else.”

“Haters make me famous.”

“I can’t believe I’m best friends with a Sceney-bopper.”

“You definitely just made that word up—but I kinda dig it, so I’ma steal it.”

“You test me. Every day.”

“But you love me.”

“Unfortunately true. Come on, let’s just go see if Junie can drive us to the mall, I can hear Hot Topic buy one get one 50% off calling my name.”

A tiny smile fought through Sunoo’s devastation from the recollection, and he snuggled closer to Riki, taking the boy’s hand and running his thumb across his chewed-short fingernails, the black nail polish chipped. The contrast between his own glittery-black, perfectly painted nails made his smile grow a little bigger.

“No one gets me like you, Ki-Ki.”

“Damn straight. And June doesn’t know what he’s missin’. You can do better, Sun-noo.”

Sunoo rolled his eyes, giggling shortly at Riki’s attempt to make him feel better. 

“Maybe I should just date you, huh?”

“You know I’m saving myself for my Queen, Amy Lee.”

“She’s married, Darling.”

“But when she sees me in the crowd and locks eyes with me, she’ll realize I’m her soulmate.”

“Dream big, Sweetheart.”

Riki nodded, humming an Evanescence song under his breath that Sunoo had to think for a moment to place the name of. He relaxed into Riki’s hold, dipping his toes into the creek, swirling the water. 

“...I just don’t know how I’m gonna be able to be around him, anymore,” he sighed after a moment, only after Riki had stopped his soft singing. Riki never believed him when he said it, but Sunoo thought his singing was lovely, and he always liked to hear it whenever Riki let his guard down enough.

“Easy. We hang out with him together, like we always do, and you’ll talk to him about clothes and makeup and whatever the hell else, like you always do—,”

“But the whole time I’ll be imagining him making out with that chick!”

“I mean, better than imaginin’ him makin’ out with you —at least maybe you’ll be able to string a sentence together without blushing.”

Sunoo scoffed, pulling away from the younger with a weak glare as he snickered. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket—the one thing his mom had gotten him for his birthday, which was plenty enough for him—and he pulled it out, his face falling.

“Shit, is it him? Speak of the damn Devil—,”

“No, it’s my mom—the fuck, she doesn’t ever call me…,”

“Oh,” Riki grew quiet, then, all of his sarcastic tone gone in an instant. “You should…prob’ly answer.”

Sunoo sighed, quickly pulling his socks and shoes back on and standing up, too on-edge to be sitting as he flipped the phone up.

“Hello?”

“Where are you? It’s a quarter past seven. If you don’t get your ass back to this house in the next ten minutes—,”

“Why?”

“Because I’m your mother and I fucking said so? The hell do you think you are, asking why?”

“I just—I don’t know—what am I supposed to be home for—,”

“Well, God, I don’t know, dinner, maybe? Though you clearly don’t need it—but I don’t need CPS knockin’ because I won’t feed my damn kid that could eat the house down.”

Sunoo winced, pain shooting through his chest at the quick dig despite his confusion. Since when was he expected to be home in time for dinner every day? Half the time, even when his mother did make dinner, it was later—and she had never cared before if he missed it as long as he was home by ten-thirty for school nights. 

“I—okay, I’ll be there soon.”

“You better be, or you’re grounded.”

“Okay, see you soon. Love you.”

A click answered that, so he snapped his phone shut, giving Riki a defeated sigh.

“Gotta go home for dinner. Don’t know why. But she’ll ground me if I don’t.”

Riki nodded, but rolled his eyes as he joined Sunoo as they began heading back up to town.

“Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

Sunoo grinned, pecking Riki on the cheek as he grabbed his hand, swinging it lightly.

“You know me so well, Darling.”

“Can I call Beomie to see if I can come over there instead?”

“Go ‘head.”

Riki took the phone, hitting Beomgyu’s speed dial. He and Riki had a sort of shared ownership of the phone—they were always together, most of the time, and their small friend group knew it. So, they knew getting ahold of Sunoo meant being able to get ahold of Riki, ninety-five percent of the time. 

Sunoo let his mind wander as they walked, barely registering Riki’s conversation with their older friend. He was nervous, to be truthful. The suddenness of his mom actually making him come home for dinner spelled bad news. 

“Here—I’m gonna stay over there for the night, ‘kay? Don’t wanna risk tryin’ to sneak over with whatever’s goin’ on with your Ma…,”

“Yeah, better if you don’t.”

They parted with a quick hug as they made their way to Sunoo’s driveway, Riki mumbling a quiet, sincere “you’ll be fine.” Sunoo had half a mind to drag his best friend into the house with him, not wanting to face this music alone, but he knew he could never subject Riki to being the scapegoat instead of him. 

He felt the tension as soon as he walked in the door, slipping his shoes off before heading right to the kitchen.

Dave was there, which partly explained things—now that he was older, his mother had dropped any pretenses regarding her and Sunoo’s mother-son relationship with all of the men she saw or had over, except for Dave. 

“Hello, Sunoo,” the man smiled, looking him over quickly. “Have a good day at school?”

“Yeah. Was fine, I guess,” he muttered, locking eyes with his mom, shivering at the unblinking glare she was sending him.

“Uh—was at the park, with my friends,” he continued, awkwardly sitting at the table. 

“You better not have been out there terrorizing,” his mom snapped, “I’m not dealing with the cops on my ass for having a fuckin’ delinquent child.”

“Ah, give the kid a break. He’s at that age, he just wants to have some fun, right, Sunoo?” Dave said, winking. 

The man was friendly enough, as always, but Sunoo couldn’t shake the gross, creeped-out feeling he got from the guy. As always.

“Sure. Wasn’t doin’ nothin’ bad. Just at the skatepark,” he answered, ducking his head.

“Well, now that you’ve decided to grace us with your presence, I guess we can eat.”

Sunoo was careful as he portioned out his food, the way he’d read about in a few teen magazines. He knew better than to expect his mom to praise him for doing so, but his stomach sank when she still clicked her tongue at him, pointing to his plate with her fork.

“You should really lose a few pounds before your physical. You know, the doctor told me last year you were on the borderline, only ten pounds away from being considered overweight.”

He bit his lip, suddenly not hungry at all, even though he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. He’d skipped lunch that day because Heather had a boy-crisis and needed him to help calm her down in the bathroom and help her fix her makeup. 

“I think he looks just fine—a nice little soft padding on him, yeah? You go on and eat, Kiddo.”

Sunoo felt bile rise up in his throat, something about the way the man said that unsettling his stomach further; he pushed his plate back, mumbling a quick “sorry, be right back” as he stumbled to the bathroom. 

He promptly fell to his knees, throwing up into the toilet—mostly stomach acid, burning the lining of his esophagus. He dry heaved, whining softly at the cramping in his empty stomach as he held onto the porcelain rim with shaking hands. 

It took him a moment to calm down, brushing his teeth and trying to get rid of any evidence of his tears, his eyes still rimmed red as he headed back out to the kitchen. He kept his head down as he sat, and eyed his untouched plate. 

“See—if you didn’t eat so much, you wouldn’t make yourself sick like that.”

Sunoo nodded, sipping his glass of water as Dave barked out a laugh, mumbling something about “growing boys eating anything in sight”. There was no way he could tell them the truth: how he would pack whatever extra food and snacks available to take to school for Riki to have something to be able eat whenever he had to go home, or for lunch, whenever Sunoo couldn't scrounge up enough money for both of them to buy the hot lunch.

He just listened to the adults talk about whatever, none of it holding any interest to him. It wasn’t until they were done eating, Sunoo having finally taken a few bites once his stomach settled, that his mom dropped the bomb on him.

“I wanted you to join us for dinner so that we could tell you together—Dave’s moving in with us.”

Sunoo felt his jaw drop, but he did his best to control his facial expression before turning to his mom, hoping his face was blank enough. 

“Oh. Uh—wh-when?”

“Next week. Have to settle some, uh, matters first, you know.”

Sunoo didn’t know, but he also didn’t care. All he cared about was how this was going to change things—he and his mother often orbited around each other, keeping out of each other’s space for the majority of the time. Would Dave disrupt that? Would he be expected to act like this was a real family, now? He didn’t want to do all that—he liked having his space, his freedom to do whatever as long as he made curfew. 

And how much harder would this make sneaking Riki over, now? Would his mom and Dave be home more often, would she ever go away for a few days like before, giving him and Riki a chance to relax? 

All of this ran through his mind as they cleaned up, and he did his best to not show his utter panic. 

As it was, his mom didn’t seem too interested in keeping up the charade much longer that night, simply waving him off when he asked to go right to his room. 

“See you later, Sunoo—lookin’ forward to getting to know you much better,” Dave offered, his smile bright white, stiff and forced as he eyed Sunoo up and down for a split second. Sunoo lifted the corners of his lips into what felt more like a grossed-out snarl than a smile, before nearly running to his room. 

Trying to steady his breathing, he sat down in his computer chair at his desk—his laptop a Christmas gift from his mom and Dave, last year—resting his head in his hands. 

“Fuck,” he breathed out, pulling at the collar of his black band t-shirt, debating if he should call Beomgyu and tell Riki the news now, or wait until school the next day. He eventually decided to wait, figuring he wouldn’t be able to keep his voice down enough due to his anger and anxiety, not wanting to stir up any shit with his mother. 

He ran his fingers through his hair, letting the lengths fall over his eyes as he did so—he’d had Beomgyu help him streak it with purple dye where he’d had highlights, and the fleeting reminder of this made him think of Yeonjun. Then, of Yeonjun and the girl. 

He didn’t even notice he’d begun crying, until he tasted salty tears as a few fell to his lips. 

Everything just had to fall apart at once, truly, didn’t it?

His “family” was a facade, the boy he loved did not love him back, his best friend was a pariah in this house, school sucked, and he was fat. And he failed at being able to fix any of that. 

Sunoo cursed, a sob caught in his chest as he shoved his notebook off his desk, doing his best to avoid his reflection in the mirror as he changed into his pajamas. He only noticed the texts that he’d gotten earlier once he was settled into bed, staring at the glow in the dark stars stuck to his ceiling, casting a dim green glow over him through the darkness.

Beomie>.< : u good?

Beomie>.< : its riki btw

Beomie>.< : u never take this long to answer ur makin me nervous

Beomie>.<: u gotta be done eatin by now wtf can u at least tell me ur alive

Beomie>.<: ima call the cops if you dont answer in 10 mins

Beomie>.<: hey its Beom im keepin riki from the phone cuz he really might call the cops please just let us know ur good??

Sunoo sighed, texting back that he was okay, just couldn’t be on the phone at dinner and his mom was holding him hostage at the table. 

The text back was quick, a simple “kk ^.^” followed by “fuckin finally -.-” and Sunoo snorted, plugging his phone into the charger and turning over, pulling his blanket up. 

It was too early to be going to bed, really, especially for him—he was used to being awake until nearly midnight most nights. But he was exhausted, not just physically but emotionally, and he figured sleep would at least allow him to ignore the hunger pangs. 

He figured he’d have to get used to the feeling, somehow.

☾

Riki had a few months left of being thirteen when he knew, without a doubt, what he was meant to do with his life. 

Sunoo might've been hopelessly in love with a boy three years older than him, but Riki? Riki was in love with music. It was everything to him—his therapy, his peace of mind, his safe place. And he was good at it, if he said so himself. 

Beomgyu even seemed a bit surprised by how quickly he’d improved with his guitar lessons each day, catching on fast, all of it feeling natural to him, in a way. He couldn’t explain it, all he knew was that whenever he was playing, he felt like he had a purpose. Like he belonged in the world, proper now, somehow. 

He’d chosen music class as his eighth-grade elective, which was the only class he didn’t share with Sunoo, who’d chosen art. He trudged through the school days just waiting for it to be eighth period, and was practically always the first one in the music classroom, eager to discuss what he’d learned or improved on or wanted to try with the teacher before class started. 

The teacher, Mr. Min, was like a God to Riki. He idolized him, for sure. Was it a bit cringy, a bit teacher’s-pet of him? Maybe, but Riki truly felt a connection to the teacher, knowing the man felt the same level of deep respect and love for music that he did, if not even more so. 

He’d raced to class that Monday, same as always, excited to tell Mr. Min his progress on the practice sheets he’d given Riki. 

Only to be disappointed when he found a substitute sitting at Mr. Min’s desk, stiff and proper in his suit and tie, so unlike Mr. Min’s business casual sweaters and relaxed, approachable nature. 

“Oh. Where’s Mr. Min?” he asked, biting his lip when the substitute squinted at him, waving him off to take a seat. 

“Not the students’ business; your teacher wasn’t able to be here today, so I’m here to fill in—my name is Mr. Smith. That’s all you need to know.”

“But, I just—,”

“Sit. And if you continue to be disobedient, you’ll be spending the hour with the principal.”

Riki sighed, heading to his usual seat, which was right in front—normally great, today, quite unfortunate, as the substitute had clearly taken a disliking to him, apparently deciding he was a troublemaker or something. It was the most miserable class of the year so far—boring, uninspired, and Riki prayed Mr. Min would be back soon. 

He wasn’t; the substitute was there the whole week. Sunoo had gotten to hear the brunt of Riki’s constant complaining about this fact, and by the time Friday rolled around, he had gotten a bit fed up.

“Riki, chill—the sub sucks, yeah. Mr. Min will probably be back next week,” he rolled his eyes, shifting the strap of his leather shoulder bag up higher as they headed to lunch. Riki huffed, lip curling up as they had to practically shove their way through a group of tittering seventh graders clogging the hallway as they shot the two boys dirty looks. 

“He’s—just so fucking—awful! And kinda fuckin’ racist—,”

“Big shocker, ‘round here.”

“He told me I should try playing “Chinese music” for an assignment to show the class—what the fuck, like!?”

“Yeah, sounds typical. Tell him to eat a cock.”

“Oh yeah, and get suspended?”

“Fuck this school.”

“...True that.”

They got held up again, this time by a few girls in their grade. Riki only barely recognized them because they sometimes talked to Heather—though they never sat with her, with him and Sunoo and a few other kids at their lunch table, which had clearly been designated as the outcast corner by the rest of the class. 

One of them giggled as they got closer, and lightly shoved at her friend who stepped up, tapping Riki’s shoulder. 

“Hey, Ricky?”

“It’s Riki, actually,” he drawled, smirking when he heard Sunoo cough to cover a laugh beside him.

“Uh…right? That’s what I…uh, so…I was kinda wondering if you, maybe, had a date, to junior homecoming?”

Riki blinked silently, and even Sunoo had grown quiet next to him. The girl shifted her weight, tucking her curly hair behind her ear with a sweet smile.

“Uh, no?”

“Oh! Good—I mean, well, my friend, she thinks you’re super cute—she wants to ask you, but she’s too shy, so she wanted me to give you this! Her name’s Crystal, she sits with us over by the art table, by the salad bar, when you want to give her an answer—you can’t miss her, she’s got shorter black hair, I keep telling her she needs to grow it out if she really wants to try out for the dance team next year—,”

“Um. Okay?”

“Cool! Hope you decide to go with her—but if not, I don’t have a date yet, either!” she winked, her hips swaying as she joined her friends, all of them giggling, one of them swatting her arm with a gasped “no you didn’t! ”

Riki blinked down at the folded up paper the girl handed him, shrugging and tucking it into his hoodie pocket before heading to the lunch line, looking back when Sunoo took a second to catch up to him. He raised a brow at the older as they stood in line, a bit further back than Riki really preferred, due to the hold up. 

“Didn’t realize you had girls falling over themselves to date you,” Sunoo scoffed, arms crossed tight and his hip cocked out, his glossy lips pursed. Riki shook his head, the blue dip-dyed ends of his dark blond hair falling into his eyes. 

“You jealous or somethin’?” he smirked, as Sunoo huffed. His smokey eye makeup made his hazel eyes pop as he rolled them dramatically, even under the shitty fluorescent lights of the school cafeteria. Riki didn’t know how the boy had the patience to do makeup like that in the morning; sometimes, he barely had the motivation to do his usual black eyeliner. 

(He did it though, most days, because it made him look cool as fuck.)

“Yeah, right,” Sunoo shook his head, grabbing a tray as they moved forward in line, glaring as a taller guy shoved by him to grab one.

“Move over, fag.”

“Ask politely next time, you fuckin’ Neanderthal.”

The guy just laughed, heading forward in line. 

Sunoo let out a long, deep breath, his eyes closed, and Riki nudged him forward, knowing the other was close to snapping.

“Go on, Sun-noo—so anyway, fuck all that shit, listen to this. When I was at Beom’s the other day, Yeonjun and their mom had a huge fuckin’ fight—,”

“Not surprised, seems to be happening more and more.”

“Yeah, but she was like, threatenin’ to kick him out and shit—and then Beom got all upset, and it was awkward. I think the only reason he let me stay with all that shit goin’ on was ‘cuz he knew I couldn’t go to your place that day, but still.”

Sunoo sighed, swiping his school ID card at the lunch register, nodding when the lady asked if he was paying for Riki, too. Most of them knew by now that Sunoo nearly always did, as long as he had money in his account. Riki didn't think it was actually allowed for that to be done, but none of the lunch ladies ever seemed to care enough to stop them.

“Well, June’s fuckin’ stupid. I don’t know what to tell ‘em, he shouldn’t have thought he could get away with smoking weed in the house.”

“Yeah, it just seemed like way more than that…I don’t know, Sun-noo, it was bad.”

Sunoo didn’t answer to that, just giving Heather an easy smile as they sat down at the table. She waved, presumably hitting pause on her Ipod as she took one headphone out, flipping her long, straightened, dyed-black hair over her shoulder, allowing the bright red strands hidden underneath to show. 

“‘Sup, boys. What’s the move this weekend?”

“Well, we could still try to sneak into that party, tonight—,”

“I really doubt we’re gonna be able to sneak into a Sophomore’s house party, Sunny.”

“But Beomie’s friends with the guy, so maybe!”

“I say we skip all that and just hang out at the skatepark, I wanna keep tryin’ that fuckin’ flip I can’t get down—,”

“We always hang out there, Riki.”

“We could go to the mall?”

“Boring.”

Riki sighed, abandoning the fruitless debate as he tucked into his food. 

He didn’t give a shit where they ended up this weekend—as long as it was far away from his own damn house. 

His father had been relentless, lately, home more often, drunk obviously. Riki wasn’t sure if it was because his mom had been passed out more often and earlier, recently, leaving him to be the only real target, or maybe because Riki had started fighting back now—but either way, he never got a reprieve unless he was just away completely. 

Rolling his sore shoulder, wincing, he looked over at Sunoo from the corner of his eye, watching. He was picking at his salad, moving forkfuls around more so than actually eating. To most people, it would look like he was simply too engaged in his increasingly excitable conversation with Heather—but to Riki, he was just really good at acting. 

He really didn’t know why Sunoo bothered wasting his money, if he never ate the food anyway. 

Taking another bite, he looked down at his tray for a moment, before glancing over again, trying to keep his staring from being too obvious. Sunoo had gotten thinner, recently—his cheeks not as full and puffy when he smiled, his shirts a tad bit looser on his frame. It had started last year, Sunoo casually mentioning that he was “too fat”, that he needed to eat less. Riki had waved it off before, but now he thought maybe he shouldn’t have.

“Are you gonna eat any of that expensive-ass salad?” he snarked, interrupting the two’s giggling. 

“Oh, shush—we’re having a very important discussion over here—,”

“I’m just saying! Objectively! They weren’t that bad for dick pics—,”

“Just what every dude wants to hear about his dick, Sunny, I’m sure—that the pics weren’t that bad—,”

“Okay, well, if Pete Wentz ever asks me personally what I think of his dick, I’ll be sure to answer differently!”

“Not this again,” Riki sighed, giving up immediately.

“Alright, then, Romeo—should we talk about the multiple girls asking you out?”

“Ooh, damn, Ricky. Casanova.”

“Oh my God—,”

“Come on then, pull it out, let’s see!”

“That’s what she said—,”

"Oh please, trust me, I've already seen his—,”

“Fucking Christ,” Riki sat back, his cheeks burning, yanking the note out and tossing it onto the table for the hyenas to devour. 

“Crystal, the super artsy chick that always hangs around Tara, for some unknown reason?”

“Tara, too. You wouldn’t believe the eyes she was givin’ him!”

“Oh, no, Ricky, Honey. You can do so much better than either of them.”

“That’s what I’m saying, thank you! Besides, what if it's some shitty prank or somethin'?”

"Nah, I'd believe it. I've heard them and a few other chicks talk about how Ricky's 'kinda cute, for a nerdy emo boy'."

“Wasn’t really planning on goin’ with either of ‘em, so thanks,” he huffed, sarcasm dripping from his slightly deeper voice. 

“Seriously, yeah, are we even going to that dumbass dance?”

“I wanna go!”

“Of course you do, Sunny—come on, it’s gonna be lame!”

Riki shook his head, finishing his lunch, debating whether or not to just skip eighth period that day. 

The answer to that debate was chosen during seventh period pre-algebra. He and Sunoo had been split up by the teacher in that class, due to “excessive talking” (three guesses who’s fault that was) and so, had to sit on opposite sides of the room. This was part of what led to their new system of “note passing”.

He was bored out of his mind; he didn’t hate math, like a lot of the students, but at some point, it just felt a bit pointless for him to be learning some of it. When was he really gonna have to find X in real life? Trying to keep his tired eyes open and not fall asleep, Riki pushed his new glasses up a bit more—these ones were much nicer, picked out by himself and Sunoo, of course: small rectangular black frames, with a shock of neon-green on the inside of the temples. Sunoo would gush whenever he put them on about how they were so cute he wished he could wear them, but Heather just said they upgraded him from regular nerd to Cool Emo-Hipster Nerd. Which was a compliment, in Heather-speak, he supposed.

Yawning, Riki leaned back in his seat, waiting until the teacher turned to the blackboard before looking over towards Sunoo. 

The 'bluenette' (Sunoo’s word, not his—after having dyed his hair a dark, midnight blue-black) looked up from his own notebook, as if sensing Riki’s eyes on him. Smirking, he grabbed a Sharpie from his bag, writing on his arm—and Riki knew what it said before Sunoo even lifted it up for him to read: 

Run away with me?

It had become sort of their thing as of a few weeks ago, after a rare occasion where he and Sunoo could have an actual sleepover at his house, his mom and Dave gone for the weekend. They’d been listening to music as usual as they messed around, Sunoo practicing his makeup in the mirror, Riki practicing on the guitar that Beomgyu had let him borrow, which he kept at Sunoo’s for obvious reasons. 

“I love that song," Sunoo sighed, turning to pay attention to Riki as he played along with the radio crooning softly behind him. 

“Really? It’s kinda cliche.”

“Aren’t a lot of songs? I don’t care, it’s pretty. And it’s real.”

“...Real.”

“Like, I can feel it. In my chest, you know? Makes it ache, kinda. Because, because it’s exactly how I feel.”

Riki slipped up on a chord, but got right back into the groove for the chorus. He knew exactly what Sunoo meant, of course. He felt it all the time, with lots of songs.

“...It makes me think of you. And me. Us.”

He messed up again at Sunoo's quiet words, his hands stilling as he looked up to where Sunoo had turned back to his mirror, eyes closed as he patted some sort of cream along his pink cheeks with a tiny sponge.

"...But, like. The Sleeping With Sirens version of it, though, right?" Riki asked, attempting to lessen the awkwardness of the moment.

"Of course."

He didn’t know quite what to say after that, so he didn’t say anything, just went back to playing. 

A little while later, though, after they had both gotten done updating their Myspace pages on Sunoo’s laptop, Sunoo asked the million-dollar question.

“So, what song makes you think of me, then?”

Riki hummed, thinking for a while. Not so much about which song, because he knew that immediately—more about if he wanted to be that open about it. He decided he should, considering Sunoo had done so, whether intentionally or not. Grabbing the guitar, he played a slightly-off, but still recognizable acoustic version of the one song that never failed to make him picture him and Sunoo together, both now and as little kids, as well as possibly even in the future. He probably messed up some of the words, not quite used to singing it without the song playing, but he figured Sunoo got the gist of it, when he caught him blinking back tears with his gentle smile.

Shaking himself from the memory, Riki covered his smile with his hand, grabbing his own marker and scribbling onto his own forearm as he felt Sunoo watching him. He waited again for the teacher to get distracted while answering someone’s question, before raising his arm up just enough for Sunoo to see: 

Anytime you want.

Chapter Text

☀

Sunoo was fourteen, very-soon-to-be-fifteen, when he finally convinced June and Beomie to take him and Riki along with them to Warped Tour that summer. 

He and Riki had been begging for the past two years, and while Beomgyu didn’t care, Yeonjun had been convinced they were just too young and he didn’t want to have to ‘babysit’ them, even though Sunoo told him over and over he wouldn’t have to. Now that he was a bit older, of course, he could see where Yeonjun was coming from—they had gone to a couple of other concerts the past couple years with the two older boys, and he could see the reasons behind the oldest’s worry. 

Sunoo was grateful, looking back at those first concerts now in hindsight, for the way that the mostly-older audience had silently taken him and Riki a bit under their wings: clearly staying careful around the two smaller boys despite the energy and the mosh-pits, letting them stay near the front to be kept a close eye on, and not letting anyone too drunk or stoned too close. Of course, his younger self hadn’t been paying attention to any of this at the time, much too hyped up and enthralled with the experience—but looking back now, he was glad the fan community had pulled through like that. Because it could’ve been much worse, and he knew that, now. 

Sighing roughly as he struggled with his pants, he hissed through his teeth when the tight, rough fabric scraped along his inner thighs; it was his go-to spot to take his razor blade to, when he felt the urge to punish himself—easy to hide the scars, but a sensitive area. He eyed Riki, hoping he didn’t notice—the younger, though, was fully invested in fixing his hair in Sunoo’s mirror beside him. Sunoo rolled his eyes with a little scoff. 

“What? My hair always sticks up weird in the back, you know that—,”

“Whatever, ‘Mr. Skinny-ass-hips, doesn’t-have-to-jump-to-fit-his-fat-ass-into-these-stupid-fuckin’-girl-jeans'!” Sunoo huffed loudly, jumping with each word as he pulled his black skinny jeans up, letting out a breath as he pulled them over his hips, sucking in and buttoning. 

“Don’t hate ‘cuz you’re jealous.”

Sunoo glared for a second, before letting his eyes fall to Riki’s waist, both appreciating and practically turning green with envy from the way the boy’s hip bones indeed stuck out above his own tight, low-rise skinny jeans. The stretch of bare skin of his stomach not covered by his tight band tank-top was flat, and his arms thinly-muscled. Lanky was a good word for it, and despite the slightly-negative implications of the word, Sunoo had to admit: Riki was kinda hot. In the most platonic of ways.

The flicker of jealousy in his gut died out, replaced by a deep guilt for even thinking that way about Riki’s body—of course he was thin. Sunoo would’ve been, too, if his mom had starved him since he was a young child. It was nothing to be jealous of. 

God, he was a miserable fucking bitch of a best friend. Sometimes, he really didn’t know why Riki still stuck around him. 

“Why would I be jealous of you—you can’t even dye your hair right by yourself.”

“Shut up! It looks fine, Beom said so!”

“You look like Freaky-Friday Lindsay Lohan with those chunky-ass highlights, Darling.”

“Uh, rude!?”

“Tellin’ like it is. But Beoms is right, it doesn’t look terrible on you.”

“Well gee. Thanks.”

“So welcome, Darling—now come on, sit down if you still want me to do your makeup, Junie texted me they’ll be here in twenty.”

“Fine, let me cry a li’l first, get it outta my system,” Riki fake-pouted as he plopped down onto Sunoo’s floor, his voice blending in with the whine of the vocalist of whatever band the boy had blaring out of Sunoo’s speaker. “You just told me I’m gonna have to see A Day to Remember, Falling in Reverse, and We Came as Romans with Lindsay Lohan hair.”

“Oh, my God—and you call me dramatic,” Sunoo scoffed as he grabbed his makeup bag from his desk, huffing as he settled down in front of Riki by the mirror. The ripped-up holes that lined the thighs of his jeans stretched as he did so, and he winced, hoping they wouldn’t tear too much more or else he’d have a problem.

“Black Veil Brides, Sunoo. Paramore—love of my life Hayley Williams is gonna see me and laugh. Andy Sixx is gonna personally ban me from the emo subculture.”

“Pretty sure he don’t go by that anymore—,”

“Oh, please.”

“Right,” Sunoo smirked, his smile falling when Riki closed his eyes as he felt the side of Sunoo’s hand rest against his cheek.

“Are you…sure you don’t want me to cover this up?” he asked quietly, tracing his pinky finger lightly against the purple-green-blue leftovers of Riki’s black eye. 

“Hell no,” the younger scoffed, opening his other eye, “it makes me look rough. Bad-ass. Could keep people from fuckin’ with us.”

“Whatever you say,” Sunoo sighed, starting the eyeshadow. “You know, violence isn’t the answer—,”

“Sometimes it is.”

“Okay, like last week?”

“The guy totally deserved it, after talkin’ to you like that!”

Sunoo, despite his stance, felt a smile rise up from Riki’s protectiveness as he blended. The black eye hadn’t been from that fight, no; Riki held his own every time he ended up in a stupid fight with some other guy around their age.

He only ever got it handed to him whenever he fought with his dad. 

Which he’d apparently been doing much more often these days, much to Sunoo’s concern. He’s told the boy time and time again to just not engage, run off if he had to, stay away from it—but it was like Riki couldn’t deny himself the slight opportunity to pay his father back, even if he only managed to get one or two good hits in himself. He might’ve gotten a bit taller, lately, but he was thin and light, and his father very much wasn’t.

“One of these days someone’s gonna knock you out,” Sunoo teased, trying to avoid the elephant in the room. 

“So little faith in me. There’s dudes two grades above us that won’t fuck with me.”

Riki had a point with that. He’d definitely been gaining a reputation, however good or bad depended on which one of them you asked. 

“Done—you want me to do the eyeliner, too?” Sunoo asked, ignoring Riki’s cockiness.

“You get it more even than I do.”

“Fine.”

He listened to Riki lightly sing along to the music as he carefully lined the boy’s eyes, appreciating the shape and bone structure the boy was blessed with. It was almost more fun to do Riki’s makeup than his own. 

Yeonjun called just a little after he was done, touching his own eyes up in the mirror, and Sunoo double-checked his bag to make sure he had both of their tickets before they headed out. 

He felt his heart stop for a second when he noticed Dave in the living room, sitting on the couch and watching TV, looking over at them with a raised brow. 

“Oh—uh. Didn’t…know you were home. Where—where’s Mom?” he asked, stepping closer to Riki as Dave looked them over closely.

“She’s still at work. You goin’ out somewhere? Lookin’ like that?” he asked, and even though it seemed as if his words were meant to be a bit mocking—maybe at the makeup, or the clothing style—Sunoo couldn’t shake the feeling there was something else behind it. Something grosser than that.

“A concert,” he forced out, his smile stiff. He felt Riki tug on the back of his shirt, so he stepped back more, both of them making their way to the door. 

“Ah, well. Have fun, Kiddo.”

“Uh-huh—thanks,” he squeaked out, huffing as Riki nearly shoved him out the door. 

“The fuck, Riki,” he mumbled, squinting at the other boy as they headed to Yeonjun’s car.

“I don’t fuckin’ like the way he looks at you. Shit’s fuckin’ nasty.”

Sunoo felt his jaw drop a little, and he blinked, but before he could ask Riki what exactly he meant by that (he knew, deep down, what he meant, he just didn’t like to admit it) Heather threw the back door open, ushering them both inside. 

“Come on! We’re runnin’ late!”

“Y’all got everyth—the fuck are you wearin’, Sunny?” Yeonjun cut himself off, his eyes a bit wild as he watched them scooting into the backseat beside their friend.

“It’s cute,” Sunoo pouted, looking down at his loose half-black, half-white button-down shirt with crosses patterned on it. He’d found it on sale, even. 

“It’s see-through!”

“It’s gonna be hot outside,” Sunoo snarked, and Beomgyu barked out a laugh.

“He’s gonna be fifteen next month, June, not ten.”

“That’s not—so!? It’s still—,”

“Prob’ly not gonna keep it buttoned all the way.”

“Sunoo!"

Everyone but Yeonjun laughed, and the oldest grumbled as he drove off, muttering under his breath about “kids actin’ older than their age.”

The radio was turned up loud, and the backseat trio had a great harmonization going on; the sun was already high and bright at ten-thirty AM, and Sunoo bemoaned the lack of AC in Yeonjun’s old used clunker he’d bought from some sketchy dude down the road for cheap. Beomgyu was stuck to his phone, as per usual, probably texting Taehyun—and Yeonjun snatched a joint from Beomgyu’s hand when his brother pulled it out, ignoring his whining.

“Not in the damn car, we got kids in the back—wait ‘til we get to the venue at least!”

“You ain’t gonna share? Damn,” Heather pouted, twirling the strands of hair that hung loose from her messy-bun, and Sunoo gushed again about how good the oil-slick dye looked on her. 

“Thanks, Sunny—better than Mr. Kelly Clarkson Highlights over here—,”

“Fuck you guys, honestly, let me out the car—,”

“No, no stopping—and no, no sharing,” Yeonjun snapped, hitting the child-lock twice and glaring at them in the rearview mirror. “None of you need to be smokin’ anything—,”

Heather rolled her eyes, smirking at Riki who hid a snicker behind his hand, and Sunoo sighed. 

“You’re so uptight, Junie,” he simpered, leaning forward as much as his seatbelt would allow to rest on the center console, poking Yeonjun’s side. “Won’t let us have no fun—,”

“Quit that—I’m takin’ y’all, ain’t I?”

“He’s just fuckin’ grumpy ‘cuz Kenzie broke up with him,” Beomgyu said, and Sunoo’s eyes widened when the older slipped another joint to him beneath his elbow, effectively hiding it from Yeonjun.

“Fuck off—go back to squealing about meetin’ up with Taehyunnie .”

“Fuck you, we ain’t seen each other in person since I was like, fuckin’, seven or something! I’m nervous!”

The older two kept bickering, and Sunoo wiggled back into his seat, winking at Riki, who just rolled his eyes, his cheeks a little pink. It was way too hot in the damn car.

And it was hot all day, too—the water was definitely overpriced; Riki and Sunoo both told Heather repeatedly that she was Godsent for bringing bottles in her drawstring bag. They made it successfully to the bands they wanted to see, and Sunoo didn’t think he’d ever seen Riki smile so much in his life, ranting about how that was going to be him one day up on stage. It wasn’t until later in the afternoon as they were taking a break on the lawn of the hill that looked over one of the stages, that Sunoo pulled out the joint. 

“Beomie came through, as usual,” he smiled, and Heather whooped. 

“Any of us got a lighter?” Riki raised a brow, and Sunoo squinted at him through the glare of the sun. 

“Hang on,” he mumbled, looking around them at the other groups of people sitting, trying to parse out a good target. 

He found them sitting a little ways away from the crowd over by a small tree under the little bit of shade it provided—a couple of guys a little older than them, maybe Yeonjun’s age, passing a blunt back and forth.

“Be right back,” he smirked, taking the joint with him as he headed over, ignoring the other two’s hushed attempts at questioning him. 

He ruffled his slightly-faded midnight blue hair, which had grown out quite a bit, and sucked his stomach in as he walked up to the two guys, cocking his hip out slightly, his head tilted. 

“Could I get a light?” he asked, keeping his voice soft as he held out the blunt, holding back a smirk at the way the guys’ eyes darkened as they looked him over, pausing at his waist—where Sunoo had unbuttoned his shirt and tied it up into a crop top. 

“Sure, Babe,” one of them mumbled, gesturing at him to come down closer. Sunoo did so, his eyes squinting with his smile as the guy lit the blunt for him, watching him take a slow drag as he stood up straight. 

“Thanks, see ya ‘round!” he giggled, feeling their eyes on him as he made his way back to his friends, who were watching him with wide eyes. 

“No fuckin’ way,” Heather huffed out a little chuckle, and Riki shook his head, letting his hair fall into his face. 

“And you wonder why everyone calls you a slut,” he muttered, cursing when Sunoo punched his shoulder. 

“So, ain’t nothin’ wrong with it,” he snapped, taking another drag before handing it to Heather. 

“You’re literally a virgin—,”

“Don’t have to fuckin’ announce it, damn,” Sunoo cut him off, glaring when Heather laughed before passing the joint to Riki. 

“Sunny could have any guy he wants, honestly. I’m positive he could get a straight dude to ‘experiment’.”

“Do we have to talk about this,” Riki mumbled, holding his smoke in for a moment before blowing out, coughing a little.

“I’d fuck you, Sunny. If I was a dude.”

“ ‘Preciate it, Babe. Fuck you, Riki.”

“The fuck did I do?”

The three continued on as they finished the joint, laughing and shoving at each other as they bickered, ignoring the people around them. There was something sacred about the moment, that Sunoo couldn’t quite put his finger on—maybe it was just the high talking, his heart feeling light in his chest and his stomach fluttering, but there was an unmistakable, unspoken promise in the air between them that everything was gonna be alright, as long as they stuck together. 

Yeonjun had spent the ride home scolding them for getting high (because they were atrocious at hiding the fact), and Beomgyu counteracted that with his rambling about how ‘amazing’ and ‘cool’ and ‘cute’ Taehyun was—and Sunoo smiled the whole way, his hand secured in Riki’s as he leaned his head onto the other boy’s shoulder. 

Everything was alright, as long as they stayed just like this. 

☾

Riki was fourteen when he could feel things changing, for better or worse, it was impossible to really tell. Maybe neither; maybe change wasn’t measured in good and bad, black and white. Maybe change simply was.  

Sunoo’s fifteenth birthday party was, for lack of better terms, an absolute rager. Yeonjun had started renting a slightly run-down, but decent-sized three bedroom house with two of his friends from work after moving out, and they had been more than agreeable to hosting the party if it meant booze and weed, apparently. 

Riki wasn’t entirely sure how the party had ended up getting as wild and full of people as it had—he and Sunoo only really had so many friends to invite, yet the house was as full as it could stand, all the furniture of the living room shoved to the walls to make room for a crowd of dancing drunk teenagers that spilled out into the kitchen and even upstairs. 

“Do you know any of these people?” Heather asked, leaning over the arm of the couch and hovering over Riki where he sat, the same lukewarm beer in his hand he’d been sipping for an hour or so. He didn’t care for drinking, much, he’d learned. He didn’t like the taste, and being around so many drunk people just reminded him of his father. Maybe a part of him was scared that if he got drunk, he would be just like the man—but either way, it wasn’t really his thing. 

Weed, though. Weed was definitely his thing—and he’d had a good amount of that, so far. 

Heather seemed pretty tipsy, herself, a fruity-smelling concoction in her hand that was sloshing out a bit onto Riki’s ripped jeans with her uncoordinated movement, and he winced at the stickiness. 

“Not most of ‘em. Pretty sure it’s mostly June and Beom’s friends,” he answered, trying to be loud enough over the bass of the music thumping. 

“Are you even drinking?” she asked, tapping the black frame of his glasses, “for fuck’s sake, Ricky, live a little!”

“I’m plenty alive.”

“You’re a party-pooper, is what you are.”

“This is peer pressure, and I won’t stand for it.”

Heather rolled her eyes, settling herself onto Riki’s lap with a shit-eating grin. 

“Sunny’s fuckin’ wasted already,” she giggled, playing with one of Riki’s ear piercings—his own birthday gift from Yeonjun, done by the same guy that did all of his and Beomgyu’s piercings and Yeonjun’s tattoo. He was getting his lip done, next, for sure.

“Where is he?” Riki frowned, worry flickering in his stomach. Heather just laughed, cuddling up close to him, and he shivered when he felt her whisper against his neck. 

“He’s talkin’ to some guy—one of Beomie’s friends, I think? In the kitchen. Awful close, too,” she snickered, her eyes shining with mirth as she sat up, still close enough for Riki to smell the vodka on her breath. “I think he’s tryin’ to—y’know—,”

“That’s—,” Riki moved to sit up, careful to keep a hold on his friend to steady her as he did so, but she sighed and pushed him back against the couch. 

“He’s fine, Ricky.”

“You just said he’s wasted—,”

“Maybe an exaggeration. He’s with it enough to know what he’s doin’.”

“...I don’t know, Heather, I don’t think—,”

“You know, most people think you two are fuckin’.”

Riki gaped, and Heather blinked, looking shocked at Riki’s own surprise.

“What, no one ever told you that before?”

He shook his head, still reeling a bit. He supposed he should’ve figured that was the case, really—the way they acted at school alone was enough to set homophobes on fire, let alone the joking behavior when they were just with their friends. But it was never serious, for them—he just never realized, maybe, that it seemed like it to other people.

“We…ain’t, though.”

“Huh,” she glanced up, before looking back down at Riki, then at the way she was positioned on his lap, then back up to his wide-eyed stare. He gulped a bit when she moved, situating herself closer, her knees spread to rest beside his hips as she leaned forward, gently pushing Riki’s hair back from his face. 

“You’re real cute, you know,” she whispered, barely audible above the music, but Riki heard it clear enough.

“Heather…I don’t think you should—I shouldn’t…,”

She watched him stutter for a second with glazed eyes before sighing, clumsily shifting off of him and settling beside him on the couch, her lazy grin back in place. Riki liked that better than the too-serious, almost sultry look she’d been giving him a minute ago.

“You’re a gentleman, too. All the good ones are taken or gay, it’s true.”

“Well—wait, I mean, who said I was—,”

“What are you guys doin’?” 

Riki looked over just in time to catch Sunoo as he stumbled forward, landing on top of him and half on Heather, giggling madly. 

“Oh—dizzy. Reeaal dizzy.”

“Jesus, Sunoo, you smell like a brewery.”

“I can smell howev’r I want. I’m the birthday boy!”

“That you are,” Heather giggled, patting Sunoo’s head before getting up, a bit slow, but steadier than Sunoo, at least. “Gotta go pee. And get somethin’ else, this shit is too sweet,” she slurred out, wrinkling her nose at the drink in her hand. 

“Have a good pee!”

“A’ight, Sunny. Will do.”

Heather sent Riki a look before making her way through the crowd, one that Riki wasn’t quite sure what to make of, but having Sunoo writhing around on top of him as he tried to settle himself onto the couch made it impossible to really think on it much.

“The fuck, Sunoo—just sit—not on me, right here—,”

“But you’re comfier—,”

“No, I’m bony and sharp. You literally said that not three hours ago.”

“Mhm.”

Riki rolled his eyes, shoving the older boy off him, raising his brow when he huffed out a tiny squeak, his eyes round as he looked over at Riki.

“You’re strong.”

“No, you’re just fuckin’ plastered,” he deadpanned, and Sunoo laughed, full and bright.

“I am. I really am.”

“Proud of yourself, are you?”

“I’m the birthday boy! I’m drunk as I should be!”

“Right, if you say so.”

Sunoo scooted closer, giggling as he tucked in close to Riki, fidgeting with the frayed edges of one of the holes in his jeans. 

“I’m fifteen.”

“You are.”

Riki watched him, expecting more of the same bubbly rambling that drunk-Sunoo apparently tended towards. Sunoo, though, went quiet, his smile slowly fading into a contemplative frown.

“Fifteen…is, a lot.”

“In the grand scheme of things, not really.”

“We…met when—I was eight. That’s. That’s…a long time ago.”

Riki hummed, fixing some of the other’s flyaway hairs. 

“Yeah. ‘Bout seven years ago, now.”

“...You were seven.”

“I was.”

He licked his lips, trying to hold back a laugh at Sunoo’s seemingly random mental calculations. It wasn’t hard to do so once Sunoo looked up at him, all of that bubbly sparkle gone from his eyes; Riki’s own smile dimmed at the sight. 

“You were. Seven. That’s…so young. A baby,” he slurred out, reaching up to pat Riki’s cheek softly. 

“...Time is crazy like that,” he said, carefully taking hold of Sunoo’s wrist, not sure where the other was going with any of his thoughts at this point.

“You were so small. An innocent, little—kid. So small,” he muttered, his breaths starting to hitch, “you didn’t—didn’t deserve—to be hurt all the time—,”

“Hey,” Riki interrupted, rubbing Sunoo’s shoulder, trying to keep him from continuing his line of thought. “Come on, Sunoo, none of that—,”

“You were so tiny. Didn’t look seven. Looked, looked five.”

“Bit harsh.”

“You were always, so—hungry. And cold. Fucking, so fucking awful—what they did to you, how could they—,”

“Sunoo, come on. There’s no reason to talk about it right now, it’s your birthday—,”

“I worried ‘bout you every day,” Sunoo continued, ignoring Riki. “I—still—worry ‘bout you. Ev’ry day, Ki-Ki.”

“I’m fine, Sunoo—I’m not a kid, no more. I can take care of myself.”

“I—you’re—I was—I shouldn’t have—let you. Be there. Go back, to that fuckin’ house—,”

“Sunoo, really, just—what were you s’posed to do, you were just a kid, too.”

“I should’ve—fuckin’ told someone. I knew—Riki, I knew what was happening, I knew they were hurtin' you, starvin' you, beatin’ you—,”

Riki sat up, his jaw clenching as he looked away from Sunoo’s pained, tearful gaze. 

“I knew, and I—I didn’t—I just let you—,”

“You didn’t do nothin’ wrong,” Riki bit out, “you…fed me, your own damn food—gave me clothes off your back, let me hide at your house all the time. Even when your batshit crazy Ma wouldn’t let me be over—,”

“You could’ve—died,” Sunoo whimpered, and that’s when the floodgates opened, and Riki found himself with an armful of Sunoo as the birthday boy sobbed into his shoulder.

“Oh, come on, Sunoo.”

“You could’ve! They could’ve—killed you!”

“They didn’t, though, I’m right here. So don’t cry ‘bout it.”

“I should’ve just—told someone. Just—let them, take you away. Somewhere better. You coulda—you coulda had, a nice family, a nice house—somewhere, in the city, like Taehyunnie. You coulda, went to a better school, had a bunch of friends, people that—that, didn’t, treat you like shit, for being best friends with—with a fuckin' fag—,”

“Sun-noo!” Riki snapped, flicking the back of the boy’s head, “cut that out. I’m fine—I’m here, now. And you’re my best friend. I wouldn’t change none of that. I don’t give a flyin’ fuck—,”

“I’m a terrible friend. You should, you should—be so fuckin’ mad at me.”

Riki sighed, patting Sunoo’s back, realizing there was no reasoning with him, at this point. He was too far deep into his drunk spiral. 

Sunoo cried for a little longer, mumbling much of the same, until his breathing eventually evened out, and he sat up, wiping his eyes, smudging his glittery makeup. He didn’t say anything, for a moment, as he stared at the stained carpet below. 

A series of emotions flickered across his face, and Riki watched him, unsure what to say at this point that wouldn’t potentially set him off onto another crying fit. He bit his lip when Sunoo finally looked back up at him, before gently grabbing his face, holding him still. 

“I didn’t. I didn’t protect you, enough. Back then,” he breathed out, his eyes shining with a sense of determination, and Riki tried to back up, the alcohol on the boy’s breath strong. 

“You did, Sunoo, you did, though—,”

“I’m gonna do anything. Anything I have to do, now. Anything to take care of you, Ki-Ki,” he insisted, resting their foreheads together. “ ‘M not gonna let no one hurt you anymore.”

“Sunoo—,”

“Not ever gonna let you be hungry. Or cold, or, alone, or, or scared—,”

“Oh—okay, Sunoo—,”

“I promise—I swear, Riki. I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep you safe. To keep you here. With me, until—until you don’t—don't wanna be, no more. I promise you, Darling.”

Riki should’ve expected the kiss, really, with how close they were. It still managed to take him off guard, however; he let out a muffled noise as Sunoo pressed their lips together quick and hard, knocking his glasses a bit askew, not so much of a kiss as an apparent seal of his drunken promise. He could taste the ungodly amount of alcohol behind Sunoo’s watermelon-flavored lip gloss, and the faintest hint of weed. He wrinkled his nose, reaching up to Sunoo’s neck to pull him away, but he froze when Sunoo let out a breathy whine at the touch, pressing closer. 

“You’ll let him drunk-kiss you, but not me—cool, cool.”

Riki broke himself free, holding Sunoo up as he looked over to where Heather plopped herself back down on the couch, watching them with a glimmer of interest in her bright blue eyes. 

“Well—I mean, he kinda—,”

“I see how it is. The favoritism is astounding.”

“I always kiss Riki,” Sunoo mumbled out as he rested his head back down roughly onto Riki’s shoulder, rolling to tuck himself closer, “all the time.”

“Yeah. Crazy, that.”

“My Ki-Ki. Love him, so much.”

“Uh-huh. Yup.”

“Heather—for fuck’s sake,” Riki hissed through his teeth, gesturing down at Sunoo about to pass out on top of him, “can you like—help me out, here?”

“I dunno. He looks pretty comfortable, there, what’s the problem?”

Riki glared at her, taking his earlier thought back. He hated her stupid, knowing grin. He wanted her seductive, willing stare back. Everything about this was stupid.

“Can we at least get him to a damn bed? Instead of passed out around these fuckin’ animals?” he bit out, flinching as a group of people cheered, and something crashed, definitely broken.

“Fair enough,” she mumbled, reaching over to shake Sunoo awake. 

“Hey, Sunny, Babe—come on, let’s get you to a bed, yeah?”

“Mmf—don’t wanna move. Good. Good spot.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it is—but you can’t sleep out here.”

“Unf. Whatev’r.”

Riki rolled his eyes, moving the older enough to stand up. 

“I’m gonna find June. Or Beom. Someone to help.”

“I’ll stay with him.”

Riki nodded, steeling himself to fight his way through the crowd, searching for either of their older friends. He went to the kitchen, not finding either of them, so he headed upstairs next, going straight to Yeonjun’s room. 

He realized a bit later he should’ve expected to see something he didn’t wanna see—but even so, he definitely hadn’t been expecting to see Beomgyu getting way too friendly with someone—and a girl, at that. Especially after he’d been going with Yeonjun on trips down to the city where Taehyun lived nearly every other weekend. Trips that Sunoo had been begging them to take him and Riki along on, to no avail. 

Riki had immediately left that alone, not bothering to check the other room or the bathroom before heading back downstairs, continuing to look for Yeonjun before finding him right where he’d originally left. The older boy had taken his spot on the couch, petting Sunoo’s hair as the freshly-fifteen year old mumbled what was probably a wholly embarrassing love confession to him, based on the awkward, pinched look on his face. Heather was still beside him, looking close to passing out herself.

“He had way too fuckin’ much to drink,” Yeonjun sighed as Riki came closer, and he nodded with a grimace.

“Yeah. Figured that out already.”

“Gyu was s’posed to be watchin’ him, for fuck’s sake.”

“He uh…is definitely watching, uh. Someone.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes so hard Riki could only see the whites, and the older boy shook his head.

“ ‘Course. Christ almighty, what am I gonna do with that kid?”

“Was tryin’ to find him or you, to help Sunoo to bed. Your room’s definitely not an option.”

“Right, well. Wake up Heather, and follow me—Ben’s room should be open, you can all crash there.”

Riki watched a bit enviously as Yeonjun was able to simply carry Sunoo himself, as he helped Heather stumble beside him to the one bedroom on the ground floor. She immediately crawled into the bed up against the wall, and Yeonjun set Sunoo down beside her, leaving only a bit of room for Riki to smush himself in next to them.

“I’m gonna lock this. Don’t open it ‘til morning and one of you’s sober,” Yeonjun sighed, tapping the door knob. “Make sure they don’t fuckin’ choke on their puke or somethin’, please.”

“Right. Goodnight, June.”

“Night, Kid.”

Riki didn’t actually fall asleep for a long time, despite his tired eyes and his pounding head. He watched his two friends sleep after making sure they were on their sides and their heads were propped up a bit—mostly Sunoo, though, and he laughed a little at the glitter smeared across his cheeks. He was not going to be happy when he woke up and realized he went to sleep with all that on his face—it was bad for the skin, or something, Sunoo would always say.

He brushed some of Sunoo’s hair away from his face, sighing at the stickiness of some of the glitter and God knew what else, startling a bit when the other boy peeled his eyes open slightly, peering up at him. 

“Meant it. Promise. Love you.”

“Love you too, Sunoo. Sleep. Happy birthday.”

“Mhm. Happy birthday.”

Riki grinned, continuing to pet Sunoo’s hair until the boy fell back asleep, snoring softly. If there was one thing about Sunoo, it was that he kept his promises—at least, the ones to Riki. And, well, that was enough for him, he figured. 

Despite whatever Sunoo apparently thought, Riki was pretty sure he couldn’t have asked for a better best friend.

Sunoo mumbled something along the same lines, the next morning-almost-afternoon, when Riki handed him some aspirin and a glass of water. 

“Yep. And don’t you forget it.”

Sunoo smiled at him, sleepy and with eyeliner smudged around his bright eyes, and Riki made the same promise within himself that Sunoo had made to him that previous night.

Anything to keep Sunoo beside him, for as long as he wanted to be.

☀

Sunoo lost his virginity at fifteen, quick and awkward and painful. 

Really painful. He was surprised at how much it had hurt, really. He’d watched porn before, obviously, and he knew there were things that needed to happen before the actual act itself—but maybe he was wrong, because the Senior boy that he’d been messing around with for the past few months beforehand didn’t seem to think it was all that necessary when Sunoo brought it up nervously. 

His name was Theo. He was Beomgyu’s friend, almost eighteen, and they’d first met when Sunoo was drunk off his ass at his own birthday party—but he didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget the way the older boy looked at him with his dark eyes, played with his hair so softly, let his fingers trail down his bare neck. No matter how drunk he was.

He didn’t, and when school started that year, Sunoo spent more than a few of his classes fantasizing, daydreaming about having the picture-perfect, slightly-forbidden high school love that he’d always romanticized. The fact that he wasn’t allowed to tell anyone, or really talk to Theo much at school, or hang out with him with anyone else around should’ve been obvious red-flags—but Sunoo was fifteen, and he was infatuated, and he was maybe a little scared of being lonely.

And whenever they were alone, the older boy never failed to tell Sunoo how pretty he was, how sexy his body was, how he didn’t think he’d ever connected with anyone the way he did with Sunoo. And Sunoo was hooked, addicted to the way his heart would flutter at those words and the feeling of being so wanted. 

His second time was a little bit better, and the third time he actually managed to enjoy it a little. It had still hurt, but when he complained to Theo with tears in his eyes, the older boy had slowed down, taking a little more time with him. He would kiss the old and fresh scars on his thighs, and tell him he was beautiful, and Sunoo took this to mean the boy must care about him. That the pain was something he could deal with, if it meant getting to be with Theo.

The fourth time happened in the backseat of the Senior’s car, halfway through the Homecoming dance. It was rushed, and rough. The angle was awkward, and the foreplay was pretty nonexistent, and Sunoo bit back tears the whole time—but this was for him, so he didn’t complain. He’d asked if they could go to the dance together, but Theo had been adamant that wouldn’t be a good idea, and that they had to keep all of this just between them at least for a while longer. So, in consolation, he’d offered the clandestine meet-up during the dance, while everyone was preoccupied, and Sunoo had long been conditioned since he was a young child to take what he can get, when he could get it. 

“I just don’t understand why we can’t tell no one,” he mumbled, once it was all said and done, and they’d gotten their clothes back on and situated. 

“I haven’t even come out to anyone, Sunny. You know what people are like, around here.”

Sunoo pursed his lips; yeah, he knew alright. He was reminded every single day at school. He told Theo as much, a touch of snark in his voice, and Theo sighed. 

“And you wouldn’t want me to have to deal with that, too, would you? And you know I don’t like when you use that tone with me.”

“Sorry. No, I wouldn’t,” Sunoo whispered, brushing down his dark hair, trying to hide the tears in the corners of his eyes. 

“Good. Go on now, you first. I’ll head back in after, in a little bit.”

“‘Kay. Thank you,” Sunoo sighed, leaning up for a kiss, the pain in his chest dimming when the older boy kissed him back, holding him in place for a moment by the back of his neck.

“You’re welcome, Babe.”

Sunoo fought down his grimace as he went back inside the gym, trying to ignore the pain and hide his limp. He couldn’t have anyone asking too many questions. By anyone, of course, he mostly meant Riki and Heather, neither of whom knew about him and Theo, as much as he wanted to break the rules and tell his best friends. 

He tried to find them near the corner where they’d been sitting, finding the seats occupied by a few older girls that Sunoo recognized slightly—they never minded or said anything when Sunoo would go into the girl’s restroom, just to touch his makeup up (there was simply no way Sunoo would ever risk doing so in the boys’ restroom ever again—he still mourned the palette that had been lost to the toilet). 

Giving the girls a tiny smile and a quick wave that they returned, he kept looking for his friends, trying to spot either Riki’s dark blond hair or the red and black tulle of Heather’s dress. 

He wasn’t sure exactly what to think or feel, when he did finally find them—out on the dance floor, near the edge of the crowd, slow-dancing. Sunoo had been suspecting for a while, ever since his birthday party, that there was something going on between the two that they weren’t telling him—but as left-out and irritated as that made him feel, he knew he was being hypocritical, because he hadn’t told either of them about his own secret relationship. 

Perhaps that’s what had driven his two friends closer together, he figured—the fact that Sunoo had been flaking on them a bit, recently, declining invitations to hang out so that he could spend time with Theo. Riki in particular had been quite ruffled by it all, Sunoo knew, and he could feel it whenever he did hang out with them. But it wasn’t like he could say anything, so he kept quiet and ignored the slight passive-aggressiveness of his friends’ comments.

So, he could understand it, yes—but that understanding didn’t make his chest any less tight or the lump in his throat any smaller when he saw them kiss, a gentle, careful thing. Nothing like the rushed, desperate, messy kisses that Theo left him wanting more with. 

Sunoo made his way through the crowd, trying to control his breathing, fighting back the pointless, confusing tears as he headed out of the gym and down the hall near the restrooms, turning the corner to try to keep away from anyone. He sat down against the row of lockers along the wall, muffling his tiny, hitched sobs in his arms as he brought his knees up, trying to keep his voice down.

He felt ridiculous, not even knowing why he was crying, really. It just felt like there was a storm raging inside him, anger and hurt and disappointment and jealousy and disgust with himself crashing together in his core, and he felt like throwing up. 

“Sunny? What’re you doin’ out here, what’s the matter?”

Sunoo snapped his head up, quickly wiping his eyes as Yeonjun crouched down in front of him, his brow furrowed in concern.

“I, I just—what, what are you doing here, thought you—weren’t even coming?” Sunoo asked, trying to settle his breathing.

“Wasn’t. Changed my mind,” Yeonjun mumbled, reaching out to pat Sunoo’s hair down, “now come on, tell me what happened—someone fuckin’ with you? Are you hurt?”

Sunoo shook his head, unable to keep the tears down anymore, letting them trickle down his cheeks as Yeonjun pulled him into a hug.

“Is it…Is it Riki?”

“Hm?” Sunoo whimpered out, confused. “What, what about him?”

“...Nevermind.”

Sunoo just let out a deep breath, letting Yeonjun hold him for a while, then letting his older friend pull him up off the floor, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

“No one should ever make you feel like this,” he whispered, his eyes shining with something Sunoo couldn’t place as he stared down at him, practically into his soul. “I hope you know that. Especially if they say they love you.”

“Jun—Junie—,”

Yeonjun shushed him, shaking his head.

“Go on, now. Riki and Heather are lookin’ for you.”

“How do you kn—,”

“Sunoo! Where the hell are you?”

“Come on, Sunny, you better not be hidin’ in the bathroom—,”

Yeonjun smiled at him, his eyes twinkling, and Sunoo blinked, heading off around the corner when the older waved him forward.

“Jesus Christ—scared the shit outta me,” Heather gasped, jumping when Sunoo nearly walked into her. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you—,”

“Jenny said you looked freaked out, did someone do somethin’ to you?” Riki asked, looking over Sunoo closely, and his scrutinizing put Sunoo on edge, especially when his dark eyes met Sunoo’s, squinting.

“No, no—I just. It was…too hot, in there. Think I just, um. Got overwhelmed, or something. Maybe I haven’t been drinkin’ enough water, or somethin’,” he rambled, blinking down at the way Riki and Heather were still holding hands.

Riki caught his stare, carefully loosening their entwined fingers, and Sunoo bit his lip hard when he heard Heather sigh.

“Should we go?”

"There’s still like, a half-hour left—,”

“Please, who cares about the Homecoming King and Queen bullshit—,”

“I’ll take y’all to Dairy Queen if you don’t wanna stay,” Yeonjun spoke up as he joined them, patting Sunoo’s shoulder softly. “My treat—employee discount for the win.”

“Sweet, free ice cream,” Riki nodded, smiling and poking Heather’s cheek until she rolled her eyes, smirking.

“Fine. But I’m getting a Blizzard.”

“Naturally.”

The promise of ice cream lifted Sunoo’s spirit, until he locked eyes with Theo as they were leaving the school, and he caught the way his secret-boyfriend’s eyes darkened when they fell to where Yeonjun had his arm wrapped around Sunoo’s shoulders. Something told him he was in for it, later, but right then, he didn’t care. Maybe a little jealousy would knock some sense into the older boy and persuade him to be more open about their relationship.

He’d learned, the next day, that this would not be the case. 

“If you actually loved me, you wouldn’t be letting other guys touch you like that!”

“Junie’s my friend, just a friend! He used to babysit me as a kid, for God’s sake!”

“I don’t give a fuck, that doesn’t mean he can touch you—you’re such a fuckin’ whore, Sunoo, honestly. I can’t believe you’d argue with me about this.”

“I don’t—how am I—,” Sunoo stuttered, tearing up. “I haven’t—I’ve only ever—slept with you, Theo!”

“You’re a tease—you love getting guys worked up, and showing yourself off—always wearing makeup, and dressing like that—,”

“So, I can dress however I want, that doesn’t mean I’m a—,”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Sunoo flinched, and he sucked in a breath when he felt the sting of a slap against his cheek. He stared up at the older boy, eyes wide, disbelieving. 

He’d hit him. His boyfriend, the boy who claimed to love him so much, had hit him. 

“Oh, Sunny—don’t look at me like that, Babe, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he sighed, pulling Sunoo’s stiff body into a hug. “I didn’t mean to do that, Sweetheart—God, you just—mean so much to me, and it just upset me so much—,”

“I wanna go home,” Sunoo mumbled, his body feeling numb.

“Come on, Babe, don’t do that—,”

“I just…I just. Please just take me home.”

“Fine, but remember this later, when you complain to me about not getting to spend enough ‘quality time’ together.”

Sunoo shook his head, staying silent even through the ride back to his house, letting his boyfriend grab him and kiss him on autopilot, managing a mumbled “love you too” as he climbed out of the boy’s car. 

He hadn’t been expecting his mother or Dave to still be out in the living room, but he found he didn’t even care that much when they both looked at him, his mother looking pissed. 

“Where the fuck have you been, dressed like that?” she asked, glaring at his outfit. “Out on the fuckin’ street corner?” 

“Oh, let him be, Dear. He’s just experimenting, finding himself, you know…,”

“He’s gonna ‘find himself’ dead in a ditch if he sluts himself out in this town.”

Sunoo just blinked, not bothering to answer or listen to the rest of their arguing as he headed to his room. He glanced at himself in the mirror, supposing his pants were a bit tight, and maybe the crop top was a bit much—but he’d wanted to show off the matching bellybutton ring he and Heather had gotten. Theo had seemed to like it, even if he said he was a little too chubby to wear crop tops. Sunoo sighed, trying to not care about the pain in his stomach from not eating anything but some toast that morning as he changed and laid down, or the pain in his heart when he checked his phone to see the dead group chat between him, Riki and Heather.

Things continued like this for another month or so, but everything came to a head one day before Thanksgiving break, when Sunoo passed out during gym. He’d woken up in the nurse’s office, Riki sitting beside him, biting his nails. The nurse said his sugar was low, and so was his blood pressure, but Sunoo didn’t really know anything other than the fact that he hadn’t eaten anything but some celery and lemon water for three days, and he was hungry. 

“You ain’t been eatin’ again, haven’t you?” Riki bit out, once the nurse handed him a snack box and left to go call his mom. “Sunoo, how many times have I told you—,”

“Why are you even here,” Sunoo huffed, biting into his granola bar with a glare, nauseous from the idea of putting anything in his empty stomach. 

“Because—what the fuck do you mean, why am I here? I’m your best friend; I just fuckin’ caught you and kept you from bashing your head onto the gym floor—,”

“I’m fine, now. I just overdid it, a bit.”

“A bit—Sunoo, you need to eat, this is common fuckin’ sense—,”

“I need to not be disgustingly fat,” Sunoo spat out, gesturing down at his body, “I need to lose weight—,”

“Sunoo, you’re—you don’t—what are you even talkin’ about, there’s not a part of you that’s fat—,”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t see me naked—,”

“I don’t—I—Sunoo—,”

“Theo says I have to try to stay in shape, if I want him to—,”

“Who the fuck’s Theo?”

Sunoo snapped his mouth shut, biting the dry skin off his lip as Riki stared him down.

“Sunoo, who the fuck—,”

“We couldn’t get ahold of your mother,” the nurse interrupted, giving Sunoo a sympathetic glance. “Are you feeling better? If you want to stay here until she can come get you, you can, or you can go back to class if you’re feeling okay—,”

“I’m fine. I’ll just go to lunch, then I’ll be alright,” Sunoo said, leaving the rest of the snack box as he stood, and Riki shook his head, following him out the office as the bell rang.

“Sunoo, what the hell is goin’ on—you shouldn’t, you should just rest—,”

“I’m fine, Riki, fuckin’ hell,” Sunoo snapped, as they maneuvered through the hallway around the other students, heading to the cafeteria. 

“Obviously you’re not—,”

Sunoo stopped, shushing him, when he caught sight of Theo and some upperclassman girl arguing by the lockers.

“You’re a fucking asshole! Don’t even bother—,”

“Come on, Babe, don’t be like that.”

“She told me, Theo, and she’s done with you, too! Don’t fucking bother calling either of us—,”

“She’s lying—,”

“Then why did Lisa tell me she saw you two? Just leave me alone, I’m done with you.”

Sunoo gaped, watching the drama go down, his heart racing. 

Theo saw him, once the girl left, and he squinted, shaking his head, but Sunoo couldn’t stop himself from letting his anger fully take over as he marched up to the older boy, barely caring about Riki following him.

“What the fuck was that?” he hissed, shoving Theo’s arm when the boy ignored him. “Who the fuck was she—,”

“God, Sunny, can we not do this here—,”

“No, we’re doing this now, because I’m sick of hiding everything, and I’m sick of you treatin’ me like a dirty secret—,”

“You’re a jealous little slut, ain’t you—,”

“I’m the slut?” Sunoo laughed, his hands shaking. “You—you’ve been fuckin’ cheating on me—,”

“Shut the fuck up—,”

“You told me you loved me—,”

“What the fuck,” Riki finally breathed out, but Sunoo ignored him, blinking up at Theo. Still hoping, for some reason, for everything to be a misunderstanding.

“You were stupid enough to believe it,” Theo pushed him away, rolling his eyes. “Come on, Sunny. You knew this wasn’t serious, what we had—,”

“You told me—,”

“You were a good fuck, and all, but that’s it. What the fuck else would I want with a fifteen-year-old whore? I’m graduating this year, I’m not tying myself down to a piece of trailer trash like you—,”

“Fuck you. You’re a piece of shit,” Sunoo spat out tearfully, stumbling when Riki pulled him back.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” the younger raised his voice, shoving at the Senior, who shoved him back against the locker.

“Don’t—Riki, come on—let’s just go—,”

“What, Kid, you jealous I fucked the dumb little slut before you?” Theo smirked, glaring when Riki shoved him back even harder. “Don’t worry, you can have the sloppy seconds—he’s plenty easy—,”

“You wanna fuckin’ go?” Riki sneered, shoving Theo again, before landing a punch right to his face. 

“Riki!”

“Fight, fight, fight!”

Sunoo stepped back into the crowd that had formed, barely missing getting caught in the fight as the two boys swung each other around, shoving and punching at each other, finally going down onto the floor, wrestling to pin each other as they each got a few good hits in.

A teacher eventually broke it up, both of them were suspended for three days, and Sunoo felt the hole in his heart grow bigger, shame eating away at the corroding edges.

He really should’ve known; after all, how could anyone love someone like him?

☾

Riki turned fifteen, and found he still had no idea who he was, or what he was doing, really.

He was a Freshman in high school, and he was an only child, a son—though an unwanted one. He played guitar, and he wanted to be in a band, one day. He worked part-time at the local Dairy Queen with Yeonjun, mostly as an excuse to stay out of his house. He was good at math even though he didn’t like it. He was a best friend, and a boyfriend, but all of this just seemed like wrapping. Decoration. Roles given to him, tags placed on him. 

He also wasn’t sure why he was thinking about all of this while shirtless, with Heather sitting in his lap on her bed as he leaned up against her headboard, kissing him slow and deep.

“You don’t seem very into this,” she sighed, raising a brow as she sat back, pulling her shirt off. Riki gulped, averting his eyes. 

“I am,” he mumbled, letting his hands travel up her hips, rucking up her black mini-skirt. 

“Are you nervous?” she asked, and her sweet smile was so pretty, her blue eyes shining, her hair cut into a feathery bob, her bangs falling in front of her eyes as she stared down at him. Heather was gorgeous, honestly, and Riki knew that there were so many guys at school that would kill to be in his position right now despite the fact that she wasn’t “popular.”

“A little, I guess.”

“Don’t be. It’s my first time, too, you know.”

Riki nodded, taking a deep breath as she guided his hand up to her bra before kissing him again. 

He tried, he really did. He tried to think of how pretty he was, how nice it felt to have her on top of him, to be touching her—but he just couldn’t feel what he knew he was supposed to be feeling.

“Don’t—don’t you think—we should wait?” he asked as he pulled back from the kiss, and she pouted. 

“Why? I love you, don’t you love me—,”

“I do, it’s just—,”

“Are you not attracted to me? Am I…not sexy enough, is that it—,”

“No—no, that’s not—you’re beautiful, Heather, I just—,” Riki sighed, frustrated with himself as she got off of him, sitting beside him and watching him with a frown.

“It’s…it’s him, isn’t it? Sunoo?” she said with a deep breath.

“What—no, what does he have to do with this—,”

“Please, Riki, I’m not an idiot.”

“I’m not, I don’t—,”

“It’s okay, you know, if you’re gay. I’d rather just be told the truth, now, though. I won’t be mad—,”

“I’m not—,”

“You look at him like he hung the stars, I really shouldn’t have let myself think—,”

“I don’t want to have sex with him,” Riki rushed out, putting his shirt back on.

“You’ve told him he’s pretty.”

“He is. He’s pretty, of course he’s—he’s always been beautiful, to me. Ever since we were kids—,”

“Are you listening to yourself, right now—,”

“I love him, yeah, okay—he’s my best friend, and he’s always—of course I love him, and—I love you, but—I’m not—I don’t want to—,”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I don’t want to have sex with him!”

“...Or me.”

“Or you. Or anybody!"

Riki stood up, brushing a hand through his hair, realizing he was shaking. 

“...Oh,” Heather whispered, crossing her arms in front of her almost-bare chest, suddenly looking incredibly awkward. 

“I don’t…know. I just…I’m not—,”

“Like—you wanna wait ‘til marriage type thing? Didn’t really…peg you as that type—,”

“No, that’s not. I don’t…want to. At all. Ever."

“Ever? Do you, like—do you get turned on at all?”

“God, Heather—,”

“I’m just—asking, I’m not—not making fun of you or anything—,”

“The idea of it—it just—,” Riki forced out, avoiding her stare, “just—it just. I just don’t get the…urge.”

“...Most guys are fuckin’ horny all the time,” Heather blinked, and Riki shook his head.

“I just ain’t. Ever.”

“That’s…wild.”

“I don’t…I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he whispered, sitting on the edge of her bed, staring at the floor while she put her shirt back on before scooting closer to him. 

“You don’t…have to answer this, I guess, but…were you, like—did someone, I mean—do something to you—,”

“No. Nothing like that.”

“Oh. That’s, that’s good.”

Riki snorted, and Heather shoved at his arm, glaring.

“Shut it, I’m tryin’ to be supportive and shit—,”

“Thanks, you’re terrible at it.”

“Rude!”

Riki laughed as she pushed him again, and she followed along after a second, giggling when Riki poked at her side. That started an all-out tickle war, and the topic was dropped for the time being. 

“D’you still…I mean, are we still, like. Dating?” she asked a while later, once they’d left her house and headed down to the skatepark to wait for Sunoo, who’d actually agreed to meet up with them that evening. They didn’t have much planned, but it was nice outside, and it was Friday night—and they hadn’t just hung out together for a while, just the three of them. 

“I dunno. I like dating you, and all, but…,”

“Right. You don’t…you don’t think you’d ever want to…,”

Riki shook his head, and Heather sighed, taking a cigarette from her pack and lighting it as she sat on the bench, offering one to Riki. He almost refused—he’d been trying to quit smoking cigarettes, lately, at the behest of Sunoo—but this time he took one, figuring maybe it would help settle his nerves.

“This has to be the most awkward way to break up,” she mumbled around her cigarette before taking a drag, and Riki huffed a short laugh before doing the same.

“Better or worse that I wasn’t just gay the whole time?”

“...I’ll have to think on that.”

“Well, you can rest assured I never cheated on you, at least.”

She snorted, and Riki smiled, kicking his skateboard up as he leaned back against the fence.

“...But, I mean…did you…actually love me?”

“...Yeah. I think so. Still do.”

“But you’re not in love with me?”

“...It’s hard for me to tell.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Riki stared up at the gray sky, crossing his arms tighter. 

“I love you, and…I love Sunoo.”

“Okay, but like…the same? Surely you have to feel the difference, even if you aren’t like, attracted to either of us—it would feel different than the way you love your family—,”

“I don’t. I don’t love them.”

“Oh.”

“It… is different, I guess. I love June and Beom, too. But…that’s it. So…I don’t know. I don't know how to...,"

Heather hummed, blowing out a puff of smoke, and Riki watched her fidget with her sweater sleeve.

“I guess it doesn’t really matter all that much, in the end. Am I the first person you told about this?”

“Yeah. Not even Sunoo. I didn’t…know…how.”

“Couldn’t imagine why.”

“I’m…I’m worried about him.”

“About telling him? Riki, Sunny would still love you if you were a murderer—,”

“No, I meant…just about him. In general. Ain’t you noticed how…how he…seems?”

Heather sighed, flicking the ash from her cigarette.

“Yeah. I get it. That guy really fucked him up.”

“I can’t believe he didn’t fuckin’ tell us—,”

“Well, we didn’t tell him about us, until he caught us makin’ out.”

“Yeah, but…that’s different. That guy was a fuckin’ asshole, I can’t believe Beomgyu was ever friends with him—,”

“Can’t believe he got his ass kicked by you and Beomgyu. That was pretty crazy.”

“He called him awful shit, told him he needed to lose weight, like…what the fuck, Heather.”

“I know. Glad he transferred schools. Good riddance.”

“I don’t know what to do, for him. He’s so…,”

“Guess we just gotta…be there for him.”

Riki nodded, taking one last long drag before  snuffing his cigarette as he tried to push down his anxiety, and Heather watched him as he headed to the ramp.

“Ten bucks says I get this flip first try.”

“Fifteen says you fall on your face.”

By the time Sunoo joined them, Riki had a new scar above his eyebrow, and both his wallet and his heart were feeling a little bit lighter. 

“You’re gonna knock all your brain cells loose, one of these days,” Sunoo sighed, poking Riki above his eye where he could feel the bruise already forming. 

“Good—thinking is overrated,” he mumbled, and Sunoo rolled his eyes, his makeup not doing a very good job of hiding the purple circles under them. He looked like he hadn’t been sleeping, and Riki knew he probably wasn’t eating like he should, either.

“So, we hangin’ around here all night ‘til Riki successfully gives himself brain damage?”

“The night is young, Babe. We can go wherever,” Heather grinned, ruffling Sunoo’s freshly-dyed light auburn hair.

Wherever, of course, meant anywhere in their town that they felt like walking to, since none of them could drive, yet. They wandered a bit aimlessly, knowing the streets like the back of their hands, Riki occasionally hopping back on his skateboard. Once it got darker, Heather pulled out the last bit of weed she’d gotten that week, rolling it expertly for them as they stopped to rest for a while beside the train tracks. They eventually ran into another group of kids from the grade above them who had been nice to them before, who invited them to a party they were heading to—but they declined, not wanting to disrupt the vibe they had with partying. It just wasn’t that sort of night. 

They walked Heather home around two, before heading to Sunoo’s house. They could’ve just gone to Yeonjun’s, probably would have been easier and less risky—but being Friday night, there was probably still a party raging on, there, and both of them were tired. 

“I’ll be outside your window,” Riki cooed, making a zipping-his-lips motion when Sunoo shushed him, waving him off before unlocking his front door. Riki went around the side of the quiet, dark house, waiting for Sunoo to get to his room and open the window for him—and when he did, he jumped back, barely holding back a scream when Riki popped up with a whispered “boo!”

“Riki! Are you tryna send me to an early grave—,”

Riki just snickered, muffling his laugh with his shirt sleeve, and Sunoo shook his head, patting at his chest.

“Help me in, come on—,”

“Get in yourself, you ‘bout damn near gave me a heart attack!”

“Sun-noo, come on—,”

“Nuh-uh, the childhood nickname ain’t gonna work—,”

“ ‘S not a nickname, I just couldn’t fuckin’ pronounce Sunoo right! Don’t make fun of kid-me’s speech impediment—,”

“Shut up, you’re such a pain in my ass, Riki—,”

He bit back a laugh as Sunoo helped him inside, both of them quieting down once he caught his footing, looking down at Sunoo as the other kept hold of him.

"When'd you get so much taller than me, Ki-Ki?" Sunoo whispered with a small, wistful smile, his glazed eyes shining from the moonlight coming in through the window. 

"...Dunno," Riki mumbled, swallowing hard as Sunoo stepped away, looking him over for a second before heading over to set the latch-lock on his door that Beomgyu had helped him put on the door a few months ago. Sunoo had been awful sketched out, claiming it was “just in case.” In case of what, Riki didn’t want to think about—but it was hard not to, sometimes. 

Sunoo always worried whenever Riki would go back to his own house—but quietly, Riki worried just as much about leaving Sunoo in this house alone.

They laid down in Sunoo’s bed, just like they always had as kids. It was times like this when Riki felt that maybe things hadn’t really changed as much as he thought they had. 

“Me ‘n Heather broke up,” he whispered into the dark, staring up at the stars still stuck to Sunoo’s ceiling that barely glowed anymore with blurry vision, his glasses safe on Sunoo’s nightstand.

He felt Sunoo shift, rolling over to face him. “Oh,” he mumbled, and after a moment, he rested his hand on Riki’s arm. 

“Are you—are you alright?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t…like a fight, or anything.”

“Oh.”

“We just. Felt like…we would be better, just. As friends.”

“I’m sorry, Ki-Ki.”

“Don’t be. We both decided it, no—no hard feelings about it, you know? I just…wanted to tell you.”

Sunoo stared at him, his gaze heavy even through the dark, and Riki could feel the burning question he wanted to ask—but he never did, simply humming and patting his arm before whispering a soft “goodnight”—so, Riki didn’t offer the answer he would’ve given.

☀

Sunoo was six when he first seriously thought about running away for good—and he was sixteen when he finally did so. 

He’d thought about it most of his life. As a little kid, with fantastical ideas about running away and living in the woods with the animals, becoming a lost boy with Peter Pan. A little older, and he would imagine running away with Riki, maybe staying with Yeonjun and Beomgyu as long as they could hide, or perhaps just building up their hideout into something livable. But then, one day he woke up and he was sixteen, and he had options.  

He first looked up emancipation, figuring it seemed possible—he had a job, now, and he knew Yeonjun would let him stay with him, and it wasn’t like his mother really wanted to keep him around. But the idea of having the law force and government involved in his business made him hesitate, especially with everything he had going on in and around his life. He figured he could just leave, really, go live with Yeonjun, and his mother wouldn’t care, after a while. 

That summer, however, he and Riki had been tagging along frequently with Yeonjun and Beomgyu as they took their roadtrips down to the coastal city about an hour away, where Taehyun lived—where the two older boys said they would be moving as soon as Beomgyu graduated.

“It’s been fuckin’ miserable ever since you left, June, you don’t understand. They fight fuckin' constantly, and they drag me into it whenever I'm home," he would often complain, and Yeonjun seemed just as antsy to leave, for reasons Sunoo couldn’t figure out. 

“There’s…people to meet. Things to do. There’s someone I have to find,” he mumbled to Sunoo once, when he asked Yeonjun about it again during a party when the older boy was three sheets to the wind. 

“Someone you have to find?”

“He’s been waiting for me. I see him every night, now, in my dreams.”

Sunoo may have once upon a time thought himself a hopeless romantic, but Yeonjun apparently might’ve been even more so. Maybe he and Junie would’ve been a good match, in a different life. 

As it was, he didn’t put much stock in any of that, anymore. There was no such thing as a perfect match, of two people completing each other. Love was a lie, most of the time—he spent his whole life learning this. 

If anyone was his soulmate, after all, it was Riki—who wholeheartedly agreed with him about running away. 

“Once I’m eighteen, we’re gettin’ the fuck outta here,” he would always agree, and Sunoo would sigh, wondering if they could manage two and a half more years. 

Heather was in on it, too. Sunoo still wasn’t quite sure what had gone down between her and Riki, but their breakup seemed perfectly amicable—if anything, they seemed closer, just not physically. He tried not to seem too jealous of that. 

He had no real plan; college seemed unattainable, he wasn’t even a fan of school to begin with—so much so that he ended up dropping out halfway through Sophomore year. That may have been the first brick thrown, looking back—his mother had initially refused, until he brought up his exact plans for homeschooling himself enough to eventually get his GED. It was less of a fight than he’d expected, really. Maybe he’d just worn her down over the years, and he was close enough to being out of the house that she just didn’t care anymore. He figured between the three of them, and with Yeonjun and Beomgyu, they would be able to manage to figure something out. 

Riki pitched fits about having to go to school without him, adamant that he wanted to drop out, too. Sunoo wasn’t sure how that would go down with the boy’s father—his mother barely even in the picture, at this point—but he wasn’t sure about much, anymore. All he knew was that he was saving up every last penny he could get, in any way he could get it. 

He may have given up on romance, but that didn’t mean he gave up on all of it. He liked sex—when the guys knew what they were doing, anyway—but he also wasn’t going to put up with any shit, or be played. If people thought he was a whore, he was gonna be a fucking whore. He wasn’t letting anyone have him for free, that was for damn sure. Not anymore. None of the boys (or men) he slept with gave a shit about him, and that was just fine as long as he got his money. He didn’t need anyone to care about him besides the people he had already—the people he could trust.

That side-hustle was his little secret; if Heather was suspicious about how he afforded the expensive clothes he got her for Christmas, or if Riki wondered how he could’ve afforded the cherry-red guitar he had his eye on from the pawn shop for his birthday, neither of them ever asked. Those were the most expensive purchases he’d made, though, most of it going into the lockbox under his bed. 

The final nail in the coffin, though, came in the Spring. Sunoo had been getting home the morning after another usual party at Yeonjun’s; his mother was gone, at work, maybe—but Dave was home. 

He was probably still a little drunk, high—because all of that morning, the whole day, really—felt like a terrible, hazy dream. All he could remember was the man shoving him onto the couch and holding him down, the pain, and his own screaming. His shirt had been ripped, and it had been one of his favorites. There was blood on his pants, and under his fingernails. He would vaguely remember, later, packing a few bags of his essentials, his lockbox of his emergency fund, and leaving a short goodbye note for his mother. 

Yeonjun hadn’t even questioned him when he showed back up at his house, later in the afternoon—he had just let him in, let him use all of the hot water in his shower, made him hot mint tea. Sunoo would eventually remember crying, telling Yeonjun a lot of mostly nothing, other than the fact that there was absolutely no way he could ever go back home. The older had tried to fight this, at first, claiming he would be considered a runaway, the police could get involved, if his mother went looking for him. But Sunoo knew there was no way any of that would happen, and eventually Yeonjun gave in. 

“But, Sunny—we’re movin’, for good. As soon as Beomgyu gets that fuckin’ diploma, we’re leaving.”

“I—can’t you just, just stay, a little while longer—just until Riki can leave, then we can, we can come with you—,”

“I can’t, Sunny, I’m sorry—I can’t explain it, but—I would, Kid, if I could wait. Trust me, I would. But I just can’t.”

“So, what—two, three months—and then you’re just, just gonna leave us here?” Sunoo cried out, slamming his mug down on the coffee table. “You—you’re gonna leave, and then what? What about—what about Riki, Yeonjun, he can’t fucking be at that house—,”

“I’ll—listen, okay, I’ll talk to Ben and Matt. Maybe, maybe they’ll let you and Riki have my room once I’m gone, as long as you can afford rent—I’ll, I’ll leave you a little money, even—,”

“God, I can’t believe this, I can’t—I can’t believe you’re—actually fuckin’ leaving me—,”

“Sunoo, it’s not like that. I promise you—as soon as you guys can, you can join us.”

That was that, really—none of Sunoo’s pleading landed; Yeonjun had his mind set, and when that happened, there was no budging him. By a stroke of luck, or a miracle, his roommates had agreed to let Sunoo take his place as long as he agreed to the rent, which Sunoo had done easily—it wasn’t as bad as he expected, being split three ways, he’d had a good amount saved up. And Yeonjun had been generous, paying the first month for him.

The day the Chois left their hometown was bittersweet, and Sunoo had cried, hugging Yeonjun so tight Riki had to pry him away for the older to be able to get into his car. Beomgyu seemed choked up, himself, as he hugged them both, whispering something to Riki that Sunoo didn’t catch, but that seemed to break the dam of Riki’s own tears. 

“We’ll call you guys—all the time, check in on you—,”

“Okay, Junie.”

“Make sure you eat, Sunoo—I swear, if Riki tells me you go back to that ‘diet’ shit—,”

“I won’t, Junie.”

“And keep workin’ on school, both of you, you hear—,”

“Yes, Junie—go. We’ll be alright.”

Yeonjun nodded, sniffling, patting Beomgyu’s back before they got into the car. Sunoo and Riki stood hand in hand as they watched their old babysitters drive away, leaving them to finally fend for themselves. 

“We’ll get out of here, too. Not too much longer,” Sunoo insisted, his heart breaking from listening to Riki cry—he hadn’t done so around Sunoo since they were kids, and it was only making Sunoo cry, too. 

“ ‘M gonna miss them,” Riki sniffled, squeezing Sunoo’s hand. “What—what if they—forget, about us—,”

“They wouldn’t, Ki-Ki.”

They didn’t, of course—they kept their promise, keeping in touch regularly, so much so that Sunoo wondered at times if this was what it was like to have parents who cared about your wellbeing. As annoying as it could be at times, he also looked forward to their weekend catching up, hearing all about Beomgyu’s adventures and mishaps with Taehyun until the two eventually ended up dating for real. Beomgyu updated Riki on the music scene down there, and Yeonjun kept Sunoo updated on the happenings with his slightly-obsessive crush over the “bunny boy” that ran a pretzel stand in town.

Sunoo worked, and continued to make money the best way he knew how, and he managed to keep Riki on track and in school, at least until the summer. 

That summer, when everything fell apart. 

☾

Riki was sixteen when his world finally came crashing down around him, within little less than a week. Whoever said “life comes at you fast” wasn’t joking in the slightest.

Sunoo was at work, that fateful night, and Riki was at his own house—already a rare occurrence, those days. Most of his stuff, including his guitar, he already kept in Sunoo’s room at the house, and he usually would stay there too—but the two older roommates were having a party that night, and Riki hadn’t wanted to be there, even though Heather wanted to go. He had just wanted some peace and quiet, really.

He didn’t get it, of course, once his father got home.

Cursing, he tried to just leave without causing any trouble, but the man of course caught him by his shirt as he was leaving his room, throwing him to the floor.

“The fuck you think you’re goin’, you little fuckin’ punk—,”

“I’m leavin’, I’ll be out of your hair—,”

“You know, you really been outta line—you keep up your shit, you’ll end up on the streets beggin’ for drugs like your whore of a mother—,”

“Where the hell is she, she hasn’t, she hasn’t even been home—,”

“Fuck her. Fuck her, and fuck you. You never shoulda been born—you ruined everything, by fuckin’ bein’ born—,”

“Like that was my fault?”

Riki knew as soon as he said it he’d fucked up, and he flinched as he was shoved back down, shielding himself as the man kicked at him.

He couldn’t remember much, from there—he tried to fight back, he knew, as he always did. He vaguely remembered grabbing something glass off the coffee table, a mug, or a plate, maybe, sending it flying at his father’s face. It must not have stopped him, though, because after that everything was a blur; at some point, he couldn’t even register the pain, each hit and kick just a dull sensation, until everything went black. He wouldn’t know it until later, of course, but he’d spent two days locked in his room, on the floor, waking up occasionally, completely disoriented before passing back out. 

He finally woke up to hysterical screaming—blinking and groaning, nearly screaming himself as all of the pain of his injuries finally set in, and he could barely move.

He did, though; he climbed to his feet on shaking legs, holding himself up along the wall, before pounding on the door—because once his mind came back to him a little more, he could recognize the screaming as Sunoo’s.

“ ‘M in here!” he yelled, best he could—his throat was dry, and sore, and his jaw hurt like a bitch, but he kept pounding on the door, not phased a bit by the dried blood covering his arms. 

“Riki!? Fuck—my God, holy shit, Riki,” he heard Sunoo sob, stepping back when the other boy managed to unlock the door and nearly kick it down. Riki didn’t think he’d ever seen Sunoo so frazzled, and horrified, and broken as he looked in that moment, even through his blurred vision—staring at Riki as if he was seeing a ghost.

“Riki,” he choked out, his hand shaking as he covered his mouth, and though Riki was close to collapsing himself, he managed to step forward and catch Sunoo before he could fall, his knees buckling.

“ ‘M fine. ‘M alright. Gonna be—fine.”

“Riki, my God—you—I can’t—,” Sunoo sobbed, holding onto Riki’s arms for dear life, relief mixed in with the panic and utter hopelessness in his voice. “I thought—oh, no, oh God—Riki, you don’t even know—how, how long have you been—oh, God, I can’t tell you—,”

“Sun-noo, you gotta—calm down, I can’t. I gotta sit,” Riki hissed, letting go and stepping back, falling down onto his bed, staring up at Sunoo as the older began crying harder, barely able to breathe.

“I thought—I lost you—too—both of you—,”

Riki shook his head, stilling when Sunoo’s words fully registered.

“Both—Sunoo,” he breathed out, staring up at the brunette, his heart pounding in his chest.

“I’ve been—trying—to find, you—kept, kept comin’ here—your dad kept—saying—you weren’t—here,” Sunoo choked out, collapsing against the wall, barely holding himself up with Riki’s bedside table. “She—they said—she—overdosed, and—I thought—you—were with—with her—,”

“Sunoo—don’t, don’t tell me, don’t—,”

“I thought—both of you—,”

“Sunoo, don’t,” Riki gasped out, clawing at his chest, finding it harder and harder to breath, “please—fuck, Sunoo—please—,”

“She didn’t—she didn’t make it, Riki,” Sunoo whimpered before finally sinking to the floor, clutching his hair into his hands, sobbing. 

Riki swore he felt his heart stop, in that moment. He shifted, ignoring the pain in his bones as he settled onto the floor, crawling over to Sunoo and grabbing at the other’s arms, squeezing them tight, shaking him.

“Don’t—don’t fucking—say that. Where, where is she, where’s Heather—,”

“I’m—sorry, I’m—so—they couldn’t—they couldn’t, do anything, it was—too late, she said—,”

“What—the fuck—happened, Sunoo!?” Riki screamed, shaking the boy so hard that he was practically shoving him against the wall, and Sunoo just cried harder, shaking his head.

“I don’t know, Riki—I swear, I don’t know—I wasn’t, wasn’t there—I thought—I thought you were—I thought—,”

“I don’t—I don’t fucking believe you,” Riki forced out, tightening his grip more, and Sunoo whined, his sobs sounding caught in his throat. 

“Her, her sister—called me—told me.”

“You’re fucking, lying to me, right now—,”

“I’m not, I’m not, Riki, I’m—,”

“You have to be—you have to be lyin’, you have to be—,”

Sunoo just shook his head wordlessly, his crying only getting worse, and Riki felt his heart shatter as he screamed—cursing, throwing the lamp off his table, then shoving the table away, splintering the wood as he kicked the legs. He was pretty sure he punched a couple holes through the drywall, too, before Sunoo grabbed him, holding him until he stilled, breaking down in the older boy’s arms.

“How—how, Sunoo, why—why would she—who, who fucking—,”

“I don’t know, Ki-Ki. I don’t know.”

“I don’t—fucking—understand—,”

“Me neither.”

“I, should’ve—been there—,”

He felt Sunoo shake his head, his own crying soaking Riki’s already-ruined shirt as he clutched the back of it tight, holding Riki close.

“No, I should’ve. I shouldn’t have—been out, that night…,”

“You had work—I should’ve just—stayed—,”

Sunoo just shook his head again, his sobbing starting back up, and Riki followed him. 

He wasn’t sure how long they stood there, crying, holding each other up—until they heard a noise downstairs.

“Was—fuck, is he—was he here?”

“No, he—the door was unlocked, so I just—came in—,”

“We gotta fuckin’ leave, Sunoo. We gotta go.”

“Should—should we just hide, in here—,”

“If he fuckin’ gets ahold of you, Sunoo—I’ll have to fuckin’ kill him—,”

“Riki!”

“He’ll kill you, Sunoo, I swear—he’ll, he’ll kill us both—we gotta run for it!”

“You can barely stand, Riki!”

“I’ll be fine, come on, go—fuckin’ go! Just keep running!”

Riki shoved him forward, following behind him as quick as he could, stumbling into Sunoo when the older stopped in the hall.

“Sunoo, I said—,”

“It’s your mom.”

Riki let out a breath, looking up to see his mother watching them with wide eyes, looking more sober than he thinks he’d ever seen her in his life. 

“R-Riki?” she squeaked out, blinking. Riki just sighed, pushing Sunoo again.

“Come on. We gotta go.”

“Riki—,”

“Go, Sunoo. We’re going. I’m—I’m leavin’,” he bit out, finally looking the woman in the eye, ignoring her as she reached out to him.

“Oh. Riki—,”

“I’m never comin’ back,” he spat, shaking as he pushed Sunoo again, herding him towards the door. “He’s gonna do the same to you. Kill you, if you don’t leave too. Best of luck. Hope you figure your shit out.”

He let the door slam shut behind him as he and Sunoo left, the older still trying to stop his sobbing, Riki’s own breathing quite stilted, his chest burning. 

“We—Riki, we can’t. We can’t—stay here, anymore. We—we gotta leave. Now.”

“What—Sunoo, what, what about—,” he cut himself off, the lump in his throat growing, his eyes filling with tears again. 

“Ben and Matt got arrested. They—they’d been selling all kinds of hard shit, Riki, the cops—we can’t stay there, anymore. And, and—neither of us can go home, and—there’s no way—we’d be able to, to…get another place to stay, here—we have to leave.”

Riki cursed, kicking at the fence beside them, holding his head in his hands.

“What about—Heather, Sunoo—fuck, my God, Sunoo, she’s dead—she’s dead—,”

“Riki—,”

“We can’t, can’t just—what about, a funeral—my God, my fucking God, Sunoo—,”

“I don’t, I don’t know, Riki—,”

“She was fucking—sixteen!” Riki screamed, pulling at his hair. “She was only fucking sixteen, she won’t—won’t get to turn seventeen, her birthday was—only—three months away—,”

He heard Sunoo start crying again, but Riki couldn’t stop himself, the anger and injustice and pain of it all just too much for him to keep contained. 

“This is so, so fuckin’—so fuckin’ stupid, so fuckin’ unfair—I can’t fucking believe this.”

“It’s not fair—nothing, nothing about—any, any of this—was ever fair,” Sunoo said between hitched breaths, his shoulders sagging. “We—we were. We were fucked, from the beginning.”

“I don’t fuckin’ like—this wasn’t—this shouldn’t have happened! This wasn’t—some, some unpreventable fuckin’, inevitability, Sunoo!”

“I—I know, I just—God, I don’t know.”

The rest of that final walk back was nothing but Riki raging, screaming as he cursed everyone and everything under the sun, and Sunoo crying, unable to say anything in return. 

“The fuck are we gonna do, Sunoo?” Riki asked with a defeated breath as they got to the house, a bit surprised to see his rusted, beat-up ‘98 pickup truck sitting in front of the curb, packed up as much as could fit. He'd gotten his driver's license that year, the only one of them to do so, and had saved up just enough money to buy the old truck from some guy a few blocks from his house. They were lucky it still ran, honestly.

“I packed up all our important shit, already,” Sunoo explained, leaning up against the truck bed as he rubbed his eyes.

“Is there—gonna be…a funeral?” Riki whispered, biting his lip when Sunoo closed his teary eyes, arms crossed. “We—we can’t, leave—without—,”

“They won’t want us there, Riki.”

“Wh-why? We—we didn’t, we weren’t there—we were—her best friends—,”

“Her sister told me, if we show up—,” Sunoo choked up, holding his phone close to his chest, his hand shaking. “They—they won’t. They won’t let us—,”

“That—that’s fucking bullshit, Sunoo, and you know it!” Riki cried out, his heart breaking all over again, “how—how can they—we didn’t do anything, why would they—,”

“You know they—they never liked her being with us—,”

“For—stupid-fucking-reasons! Fucking—what the fuck, we can’t even—go to our best friend’s funeral!?”

“I’m sorry, Riki—I don’t, I don’t know—what the fuck to do,” Sunoo rubbed his face, breathing hard. 

Riki joined him against the truck, hunching over as the tears started again, only getting worse when Sunoo hugged him. 

“I just—can’t believe this, Sunoo.”

“Me neither,” Sunoo whispered, wiping his own eyes, rubbing Riki’s shoulder. 

"I love her, Sunoo. I love her," he wept, grasping onto Sunoo's shirt, hiding his face into the boy's neck.

"Oh, Ki-Ki...I know. I know, Sweetheart."

"I never, never got to, make sure—she knew, that I—I still meant it."

"She knew, Darling, she did. She loved you, too. She knew."

It grew darker outside, and they eventually got into his truck; Sunoo did his best to clean and bandage Riki up by the tiny dome light of the vehicle, giving him his backup glasses from the glove box—his good ones had been broken, obviously. Riki felt completely dissociated, numb to absolutely everything. It all felt like he was just moving through a dream, not actually in control of his body, or that he was watching everything from above, outside himself. 

They slept in the truck, that night, and the next morning, Sunoo called Yeonjun, and cried again as he told Riki to just drive. Keep driving, and not look back. 

So, he just drove.

Chapter Text

☀

Sunoo was seventeen, exhausted, and grieving, and terrified—and pissed off. 

“Answer me—what in the fuck are you thinking!?”

“Come on, Sunoo, don’t—,”

“If you don’t put that fuckin' needle down right now, and answer me—,”

“You’re makin’ way too big a deal outta this—,”

“Am I, Riki? Really? Because our friend just died not even four months ago from this fuckin’ shit, and I come home to find you and your stupid-fuckin’-buddies doin’ the same, fucking, thing!”

“God damn, you the kid’s Mother? Chill out, Dude—,”

“You—get the fuck out—get the fuck out of this apartment, if I ever see you around here again—,”

“Kid asked for somethin’ a little stronger, wasn’t us that pushed it—,”

“Get the fuck out, I said!”

The two guys that Riki apparently was ‘friends’ with in some capacity—busking buddies, or something, Sunoo hadn’t exactly been paying much attention lately, clearly—left, once Sunoo was fully fired up and screaming, leaving Riki to deal with him alone.

“Sunoo—,”

“Don’t—I don’t wanna fuckin’ hear it,” Sunoo seethed, ripping the needle from Riki’s hand along with whatever he could manage to grab from the table, his heart beating so hard in his chest he thought it might break free from his ribs.

“Sunoo, come on—,”

“I’m so fuckin’ serious, right now, Riki—if I ever catch you doin’ some shit like this again—,”

“What, you gonna send me to rehab?”

“This isn’t fucking funny!”

“Who’s laughin’?”

“The fuck is wrong with you!?” Sunoo screamed, throwing the leftover powder and the liquid that hadn’t been injected into anyone yet into the toilet, flushing, his whole body trembling. He really didn’t know what else to do with it; he had no idea what to do in this situation. “You—you of all people, Riki, should fucking know better!”

“Oh please. Spare me the—,”

“No—fuck that, and fuck you, Riki, if you think I’m—everything—everything I’ve ever done, for you—for us, to get out of that fuckin’ hell-hole—and for, for what, for you to—just—do this, anyway!?”

“Wasn’t gonna keep doin’ it, just needed—,”

“You watched this shit ruin your mother—destroy her, to the point where she couldn’t give a shit if her drunk, meth-addict, tweaker of a husband fuckin’ killed her son—,”

“Shut the fuck up,” Riki spat, unsteady on his feet as he stood, glaring when Sunoo stepped up to him. Sunoo met it easily with his own, practically daring the younger to do something, poking his chest with a shaking hand. 

“You spent months losin’ your fucking mind, Riki, cryin’ to me and askin’ me and God and everything under the sun why Heather would’ve—,”

“I said shut up!” the taller boy raised his voice, his body trembling as he shoved Sunoo back, but Sunoo kept going, unfazed.

“And here you are now, huh, risking everything to figure it the fuck out for yourself, I guess—,”

“I can’t fuckin’ stand it!” Riki finally screamed, punching the wall and leaving a sizable cracked hole—so much for ever getting their security deposit back—and probably not feeling it as much as he should, if Sunoo were to guess. He jumped, stepping back, leaning against the bathroom doorway as he watched the younger with wide eyes.

“Riki—,”

“I can’t fuckin’—take it, anymore, Sunoo,” he choked out, holding his bleeding fist to his chest, his other hand combing through his messy, grown-out hair, “I can’t—can’t deal with—I don’t know—I can’t even fuckin’ sleep—,”

“Ki-Ki—,”

“It never—fuckin’ stops, Sunoo, it—hurts, all the fuckin’ time—knowin’ I should’ve—she shouldn’t—have been alone—,”

“You think I don’t feel the same fuckin’ thing?” Sunoo cried, taking hold of Riki by his wrists, shaking him. “You think I don’t feel guilty, too—,”

“You didn’t have a choice—,”

“I—fuck, Riki, that’s not the point,” Sunoo swallowed, said guilt flaring up like a wildfire in his core. He’d had a choice, that night—he always had a choice. The fact that he kept making terrible choices was a recurring theme in his life, but this one he couldn’t even bring himself to admit out loud.

“I wouldn’t—wouldn’t have let her, Sunoo—she would be here, with us, if I were with her—,”

“You don’t know that, Riki, anything could happen—she could’ve just done it at another party, gotten it somewhere else, if she really wanted to—,”

“She wouldn’t.”

“There’s nothing—we can do, now—she, she wouldn’t—she wouldn’t want you to, to do this to yourself—,”

“And, so what, then—I’ll just, never be able to live with myself, huh? I’ll just have to—feel like this, forever—,”

“And what’s the alternative you’re fucking proposing, shooting up, ‘til you kill yourself!? Just—you want me to fuckin’ go through this again—find you dead on the couch one day, have to bury you too? That what you fuckin’ want, Riki?” Sunoo sobbed out, letting the boy go, shoving him out of his way with little strength. He could barely feel his body as he stumbled over to the couch, sitting down and hanging his head to his hands, wondering how anything was ever supposed to be okay again.

“N-no, Sunoo—I just—I just. Wanted. To not feel. Anything. For just a second.”

Sunoo tried to take a deep breath through his crying, staring at the pipe and the dirty spoon on the table that he hadn’t tossed, feeling Riki’s words in his soul.

He’d wished to be able to stop feeling since he was seven years old.

“I can’t lose you too, Riki,” he whimpered, all the fight gone from his body, his limbs feeling like jelly as all the adrenaline wore off.

“I wasn’t—tryin’ to die—,”

“I don’t care. I don’t—you could’ve. So easily.”

“Fine, I won’t—you’re right, okay, fuck. I won’t do none of that shit, okay, I won’t.”

“Please, Riki, fuck—’cuz if anything happens to you—,”

“Nothin’ will. You promised me, ‘member? Promised you wouldn’t let nothin’ hurt me.”

“Fuck you, Riki—fuck you, fuck you for—makin’ me love you so much—,”

Sunoo let out a shaky whine as he cried harder when he felt Riki sit beside him, wrapping his arm around his waist and resting his head on Sunoo’s shoulder. 

“Love you too, Sun-noo.”

Sunoo knew he meant it, probably more than ever, by that point. Because in the very bitter end, they were all each other had. Yeonjun and Beomgyu were there for them, of course, and Taehyun now, too—but they’d all started building their own lives here, and as much love as they had for him and Riki, there was a level of separation that was hard to explain. 

After all, only Riki knew everything that had happened to him—and Sunoo was the only one who knew everything about Riki. There were things he still couldn’t bring himself to tell the older boys, probably never could, and the same went for Riki, he knew. 

There was just one thing he’d never tell his best friend—not unless he was forced to—and that was the matter of just how he was able to miraculously come up with the money needed for their rent each month.

The very same matter that had kept him out of that shitty, run-down drug house the night their friend died. 

“Gimme your fuckin’ lighter,” Sunoo sighed after his moment of reflection, grabbing the still-packed pipe from the table, snatching the lighter Riki held out. He tried to play off how badly his hands were shaking as he flicked it, the flame catching his thumb just enough for him to feel the quick sting of heat. 

“‘Kay, hypocrite.”

“Won’t fuckin’ die from weed, you shithead.”

“I’m just fuckin’ with you, damn. Come on, share.”

Maybe it did make Sunoo a hypocrite, the way he didn’t hesitate to let them both blow through all the remaining weed in their possession that night. Or stop himself from downing one too many shots of the Fireball he’d gotten from Junie and Beomie for “housewarming” months ago. Riki could barely stand the liquor, never being much of a drinker, but he’d taken a couple shots with him that night—both of them seeming to come to the same messy conclusion:

Whatever they could do to numb the pain for the night, that didn’t risk killing them—at least, not right at that moment.

The burning in his throat counteracted the burning in his heart. The alcohol drowned all of the guilt and shame enough for him to laugh at the way Riki messed up the words to every song that played; the high kept him floating just enough to keep him from falling too hard and fast into the dark recesses of his own mind.

“D’you…think she…meant to?” Riki asked quite some time later, both of them too fucked up to really move from the couch to their beds. Sunoo lay on top of the taller boy, resting his head on his chest, feeling it rise with each of his deep breaths.

“Riki…I don’t know.”

“She was, scared. Of, of—leaving. Of the future. Her parents, wanted…her to go to college. She didn’t know, what she, wanted to do—,”

“Lots of kids are scared of that, Riki.”

“They argued, a lot. Her mom was so hard on her, and—and her sister, too. It hurt her, pretty bad.”

“You think—but, you think she wouldn’t have…told us, goodbye, somehow?”

“Not if she—y’know. Didn’t want us to, figure it out…stop her…,”

“Riki, just—we can’t…you can’t sit with this, too long. Fact is, we’ll never know.”

“That kills me.”

“I’m sorry. I know. I can’t—I have…a hard time. Sleeping. Too.”

“I hear you scream, sometimes.”

“Nightmares. Some of them, you die too, and—those ones, I can’t ever go back to sleep.”

“You never told me.”

“I’m tellin’ you now.”

Riki hummed below him, the sound rumbling low in his chest. His hand rested right between Sunoo’s shoulder blades; he clutched his shirt with a little sigh.

“I dream about you—leavin’, sometimes.”

“Leavin’ to where? Where the hell would I go, without you, Ki-Ki.”

“Dunno. Wherever you go, at night, sometimes—when you ain’t really at work. I ain't stupid, y’know.”

Sunoo closed his eyes, snuggling closer and inhaling the scent of Riki’s musky cologne. 

“I’d rather be with you, trust me.”

Sunoo felt Riki let out a deep breath, felt his fingers trailing up his neck, now, tangling and resting in his hair.

“Wish you could, Sun-noo. Wish I could be with you, like that.”

“Huh—what?”

“We could try, y’know.”

“Riki—,”

“I’d do it, for you. Try. If, you really need—if, if it meant keepin’ you here. Safe. Not, not out with some random fuckin’ guy out there, who might—might hurt you—,”

“Don’t, that’s not—I’m not—,”

“You wouldn’t want to?” his hand fell to Sunoo’s neck, and he shivered, pulling back to scoot himself up. 

“Doesn’t matter. We aren’t.”

“Why?”

“ ‘Cuz you’re so Goddamn stoned you can’t even say my name right, and we’re both drunk—,”

“Even better reason to.”

“And you can barely watch a sex scene in a movie without stickin’ up your nose—you’re gonna be so fuckin’ embarrassed t’morrow, you’re gonna regret this—if you can even remember.”

“I don’t care, Sun-noo. It don't bother me that much—I could deal with it. Just tonight, please. I want to, just, try—just tonight.”

“You’re so full of shit. That don’t even make sense,” Sunoo giggled, his brain fuzzy, his bare skin tingling where Riki brushed his fingers against his arms, brushed his lips against his cheek. The cool metal of the boy’s lip ring caused another quick tremor, bringing him back to the moment.

“Nothin’ makes sense. But I love you.”

“I love you too, Ki-Ki—but, but not—not like that—,”

“So? I don’t, either. Does it really matter?”

“‘Course it matters—,”

“Not really. Doesn’t make it all—fuckin’ hurt any less. When, when shit goes wrong. Figured that out, now.”

“Well, no. No, it doesn’t, but—that’s…that’s not the same…,”

“Does it matter when you’re out fuckin’ some stranger?”

“Riki, for fuck’s sake—,”

“Well, it’s the truth! You do that just for fun, right? So what’s the difference?”

Sunoo pushed himself up, just enough to look Riki in the eyes, debating if he should set the record straight or not. 

“The difference—is…I won’t…have to ever see them again,” Sunoo sighed, chickening out. “And you’re my best friend, and—and, we’d have to actually—deal with the consequences. If we did somethin’ like that—it could, would, make things weird. Feelings, and shit, you know?”

“If you say so,” Riki rolled his eyes, shifting up a little, resting up against the arm of the couch. “You’d know better than me, I guess. But I really don’t think it would…change anything. We’ve been friends long enough, to know where we stand.”

“Just because you seem to have this…complex, with platonic love versus romantic—,”

“ ‘S not a complex, Sun-noo. I know the damn difference, I just don’t feel like it matters, in the end—for me. Or you, and me. Whatever—,”

“Riki, I don’t—even know where to begin, with how much that fuckin’ matters,” Sunoo laughed, the ridiculousness of this conversation finally sinking in. It felt both wholly unnecessary and also long overdue at the same time, so maybe Riki wasn’t the only one with a complex. “You want me to go ‘round callin’ you my boyfriend?”

“Gross.”

“Get us some matchin’ couple’s outfits—rings? Propose to you?”

“I’ll fuckin’ push you off this couch, Bitch.”

“You’d do that to me, my Love?” Sunoo giggled, poking Riki’s cheek and squeaking out a laugh when the taller started poking his ticklish sides, trying to swat the boy’s hands away and also not roll himself off the couch.

"Quit it, asshole, you're gonna knock me onto the damn floor!"

“Cut that shit out, then, before I puke on you.”

“So—the difference matters, to you, then?” Sunoo asked, pointed, as he leaned back up. Riki squinted up at him as his grip on Sunoo's waist tightened, and Sunoo raised a brow, tapping his fingers on the boy’s shoulder.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Explain, then.”

“You’re—y'know…I couldn’t even stand to have anyone layin’ a finger on me for a second, before we became friends," Riki eventually got the words out, looking almost pained to do so. "Any time a teacher even patted my shoulder I wanted to crawl under my desk. Some kid accident’lly ran into me on the playground once, and I—ran, hid under one of the slides ‘til a teacher had to come lookin’ for me.”

“Who’d blame you.”

“Right. I didn’t know it was—possible—to be touched, without—without it hurting.”

“God, Riki. That’s—,”

“But…you held my hand, and pushed me on the swing, and hugged me. And you never…never hurt me. I knew you’d never. So I didn’t…mind, when it was you. You were…my safe place.”

Sunoo blinked a tear or two back, tilting his head, trying his best to understand Riki’s view with his alcohol-soaked brain.

“...I don’t get it, then. The difference.”

“Romance isn’t safe, Sunoo. You know that.”

“So, what—you’re just afraid to be dating me, so we aren’t? That’s the only difference?”

“No—that’s not—I just mean—look, I don’t gotta explain that difference, to you—you just said you don’t love me that way, either. What I’m tryin’ to say is, you…you’re the only constant I’ve ever had. Nothin’ ever, ever stays the same. People leave, or change, or grow apart, or—die—but. But…the love I feel for you may not be romantic, but it’s constant. It doesn’t tell me I wanna make love with you or, or—get married, and have babies or whatever—but, it tells me you’ll always be my home, anyway. My Sun-noo. And that means way fuckin’ more to me than calling you my boyfriend.”

And damn, if Riki didn’t have a way with words, even stoned off his ass. There was a reason he was the songwriter between them, Sunoo supposed, holding back more tears as he turned his gaze to the stained, probably-molding carpet of their dingy apartment. 

“...But. If I were to ever, ever meet someone, that I—,”

“I wouldn’t care, as long as they were good to you. That’s not what I want, or, or need from you. I just need you to be my best friend. My constant.”

“That…that wouldn’t ever change. Couldn’t,” Sunoo whispered, wiping the wetness from his cheeks. 

“Right, so—so, you see. Doesn’t matter.”

“Well—kay, but that still doesn’t mean we should have sex just for the hell of it.”

“Just told you how it wouldn’t change nothin’—,”

“Darling, friends don’t just fuck around together without things gettin’ weird,” Sunoo chuckled out, his voice still a little bit thick with emotion.

“But kissin’ each other all the time didn’t make nothin’ weird.”

“Maybe not to you.”

“You feel weird about it? Kissin’ me?” Riki hummed, and Sunoo leaned back with a squint, not liking the smirk rising up on the younger’s face.

“We were kids, Riki, we’re a bit too old for that—,”

“You don’t wanna kiss me, Sun-noo? Not even for a li’l good luck?”

“Shut the fuck up, I was—,”

“Don’t feel like provin’ a point to the homophobes? Just a li’l peck, for old time’s sake—,”

“Riki, if you don’t cut it out—,”

“Why’re you shakin’, we’ve kissed a million times,” Riki whispered against the very corner of his lips, and Sunoo just shook his head, before letting their lips connect. A gentle, comfortable peck—more of a silent reassurance, than anything.

“ ‘M still not doin’ none of that, with you,” Sunoo said, before kissing him again, sighing when Riki nipped at his bottom lip.

“But you’ll kiss me? Make that make sense,” Riki huffed with a small smile, settling down into the couch a bit more, holding Sunoo in place.

“I can’t. So no more.”

“I can’t shoot heroin, and I can’t kiss my best friend. Life’s a bitch.”

“Riki!”

“Kiddin’, ‘s a fuckin’ joke!”

“Quit jokin’ then, and go to sleep—Christ, you irritate the shit outta me, every day—,”

“But you still love me. Right?”

Sunoo made himself as comfortable as possible in their position, tucking his face into Riki’s neck and breathing out slowly.

“...No matter what, Darling.”

The room fell quiet after that, and Sunoo figured Riki fell asleep—he was pretty close to it, himself—until the younger spoke up again.

“ ‘M sorry, Sun-noo. ‘Bout…earlier. Everything. Wasn’t thinkin’.”

“I know, Ki-Ki. Just—promise me, you won’t…do that shit.”

“Promise.”

“I know—this all—everything fuckin’ sucks, right now—but, but you can’t—let yourself get torn to pieces, Riki—I need. I need you, too, you know—you’re my constant, too. Things will get better, somehow. I know it.”

“...Yeah. Yeah, I know. I’ll…I’ll try, to get my shit together. Be, be better. Get a job, here. Help you.”

“I don’t even care about that, as long as you’re here.”

“Okay. I’ll…stay, here.” Riki’s words were slurred, mashing together, but Sunoo could feel his sincerity anyway. He shifted, got a little more comfortable in the other’s arms, falling asleep to the sound of Riki’s breathing, the feeling of his hand steady on his back, the scent of home.

That was the best he’d slept since turning seventeen.

☾

Riki was seventeen, by some stroke of luck, or a miracle—and he was finally healing. 

It was a strange thing, to have made it that far in life without realizing how all-encompassing that word truly was. Healing. Physically, mentally, emotionally—spiritually, even, possibly, though that was up for debate, depending who you asked. Sunoo would roll his eyes a little; Yeonjun would nod enthusiastically, ramble about planet and star placements and crystals and so on. But if you asked Riki, the fact that he was currently sitting on a pier, staring up at the stars dotting the sky above the ocean, passing a blunt back and forth with his bandmates after playing one of the most hype, successful shows of their early career—and was glad to be alive in that moment—there had to be something spiritual about it, in his opinion.

He supposed it was easier to start with the physical aspect, though, while reflecting. The tattoo he’d gotten—a sun, on the back of his neck—on his seventeenth birthday, was healed. It had started as a stinging, sunburn-like pain, then a bit bruised in some spots, sore to touch. Then it was just an itchy, slightly-scabbing annoyance—then, nothing but smooth, inked skin. Wouldn’t even know it was there, if people didn’t point it out or he didn’t see it in pictures. His scar above his eyebrow piercing from busting his head on his skateboard—a thin, white line, the skin closed long ago with a butterfly bandage. His lungs—grateful each time he took a deep breath of fresh ocean air, instead of cigarette smoke (Sunoo had convinced him to quit for good—bubble gum was his new addiction) and he found performing was much easier, his stamina much improved. 

A little weed, here and there, though—life was full of compromises, he figured, taking a hit before passing it to the bassist beside him. Nicholas, not Nick, never Nick.

“You good, Bro? You look spaced as fuck,” the other mumbled around the joint, and Riki shook his head, smiling.

“Just—thinkin'. Was a great show.”

“Fuckin’ blew it out the park. We got this shit, for real. We’ll get signed, soon, I can feel it!”

Riki nodded, taking a deep breath as he stared out at the water, watching the waves ripple softly.

The mental aspect was harder to acknowledge, though maybe more important, arguably. It was harder, that was a fact. Wounds healed themselves; the body just did what it was supposed to do, generally. Your mental healing, though, that was all your own work. He had no way of paying for professional therapy, but he managed, regardless. He’d started with Sunoo, a little less than a year ago, when they first moved. He’d come clean about everything—his asexuality, his situation with Heather, his fear of having nothing figured out, of their future. All of his guilt—guilt about leaving his mother behind to deal with the rage he knew his father was going to have, guilt from leaving Heather alone that night, guilt for never helping Sunoo enough with his own issues, when he’d helped Riki so much their whole lives. He went to Beomgyu, next, then Yeonjun—it was harder to tell the older boys his full side of the story, but maybe that’s what made him feel so victorious, when all was said and done. A sense of accomplishment from the honesty, and knowing that he could focus his energy on trying to work through all of the pain and anger and fear, without having to hide any of it from anyone, anymore.

“Your friend gonna be alright? He seemed pretty freaked, earlier,” Ta-ki, their drummer asked him—shrugging when Riki waved off his turn for the joint. 

“Not really my friend—yet, I guess, anyway. He’ll be good. Sunoo will straighten ‘im out.”

“I think Sunoo will do the exact opposite of “straightening” that dude out.”

“Fuckin’ gross, guys, I don’t wanna think of him doin’ that, come on—,”

The others all cackled, and Riki rolled his eyes, a fond warmth settling in his chest. It was a feeling he was becoming more accustomed to, these days. 

Emotions were tricky. One day, you’re just fine being all by yourself—then the next, your stomach feels fluttery and heavy because the too-pretty new kid was sitting beside you on the school bus, his eyes shining with unspoken promises as he held up a finger-painting of a sun, with dried-up plucked dandelion petals carefully glued along the orangey-yellow painted rays. One minute, you’re scared, and sad, because your body hurts from being beaten by the people who are supposed to love you the most, and this makes it too hard for you to swing—then, your whole body feels weightless, and your heart is just as light, because you’re flying, now. Smiling, laughing, so high up you think you might touch the sky. And each time you come close to the ground—your best friend brushes his hand against your back, cheering you on as he pushes you back into the air. Days and weeks and months and years pass, and suddenly, there’s so many people who care about you, who you care about, and you forget. You forget what it even felt like, to sit on the playground alone, and watch the other kids play.

Except, you never really forget. Because days come when some of those people you care about leave, and that tears open all of the invisible scabbed-over wounds, and suddenly you remember exactly what it felt like to be alone—and you’re horrifically, ungodly, downright terrified to your core of ever feeling that way again. So scared that you get angry, resentful. So, you try to build up walls; you tuck all those pesky emotions away—but it doesn’t really do you any good, in the end. Because that sort of pain, that kind of wound—that’s the hardest of all, to heal.

Riki could feel, though, that he was on the right track, maybe. Finally. 

“Honestly, dudes, I’m fuckin’ beat. Who’s place we crashin’ at tonight?”

“We can go to mine, I’m sure Sunoo won’t be home tonight.”

“Nah—too busy unstraightening.”

“Shut up!”

Another round of laughter, this time with Riki joining in, the absurdity of everything sinking in a little as the high set in. The warmth in his chest grew, settling like a relieving, comforting blanket around his soul.

Because Sunoo, after all—he was healing, too. His physical healing was simple—keeping a healthy weight, keeping razor blades away from his soft skin, keeping his alcohol intake at least somewhat controlled. The mental part of those things, not so simple of course. But Sunoo was headstrong, and he and Riki had made promises to each other—and they always kept their promises to each other. The bigger thing, though, was that Sunoo had learned much, much earlier than Riki the whole issue with emotions; Sunoo had started building his walls much sooner in life. Walls around his heart, that only grew taller and sturdier with time. Chipped, here and there, by people who didn’t take care of him or love him as they should have, or who punished him for simply being himself. A few peek-holes drilled through if you knew where the soft spots were, like Riki did, or June and Beom—but unwavering. If Riki had a hard time learning how to control the fiery blast of his emotions, Sunoo had a hard time allowing himself to fully feel his own, to let them out into the world freely without the help of alcohol, or weed, or life-altering trauma. 

Then along came Park Sunghoon, and Riki couldn’t even recall the last time he’d seen Sunoo so full of zest for life—probably not since they were kids, really.

Riki smirked to himself as he reminisced, scoffing under his breath as he was climbing into Nicholas’s van, punching his address into his GPS. 

He could hardly believe it, when Sunoo had bounded up to his balloon-dart stand the other day, his eyes sparkling, bouncing on his toes as he leaned against the counter and rambled about the “most handsome, endearing, awkward, lovely boy” he’d ran into by Soobin’s pretzel stand. The “Pretzel Guy,” who apparently had eyes worth swimming in, and a voice like smooth dark chocolate. Who’d had Sunoo practically dancing around their apartment the next night, singing and giggling to himself as he rifled through his closet to pick his outfit for their “date.”

“He’s so—so attentive, Riki,” Sunoo sighed, staring at himself in the mirror as he washed his makeup off his face. “He offered to walk me home—just because it was dark outside, and I was alone.”

“Coulda been a trap. He was gonna be the one to murder you all along,” Riki muttered, counting the cash from his register that he’d made that night.

“Oh, stop—I don’t think he could hurt a fly,” Sunoo giggled, “he was so careful, every time he even got close to touching me—like I was porcelain, or something. It was kinda funny. But cute.”

“Well—we know he’s got money, anyway,” Riki hummed, raising his brow as he waved the fifty he’d gotten from the rich, whipped, terrible-at-darts friend of this ‘Sunghoon’s.’ 

Sunoo went a bit quiet, at that, and Riki let out a short breath, adding the bill to his count. 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean—,”

“You know I don’t do that anymore, Riki—,”

“I know, Sunoo, I was just messin’ around. I didn’t mean nothin’ bad by it.”

“I—I actually like him, you know—it’s not, I’m not tryin’ to—,”

“I know—trust me. I was there when Yeonjun threatened to handcuff you to himself if he ever found out you were doin’ that shit again.”

Sunoo huffed, glaring at Riki through the bathroom mirror that Riki could just barely see from his spot on their couch. 

“I’m gonna take him out on the boat, tomorrow, with Beomie.”

“Jeez, takin’ him to meet the family already? Movin’ quick, ain’t ya?”

“Oh, shut the hell up. I wanna take him tubing—I highly doubt he’s ever done anything like it.”

“Wouldn’t be shocked, dude looks straight outta prep school—prob’ly only ever been on the water in a yacht, sippin’ some sort of fancy champagne too expensive to pronounce.”

 Sunoo let out a tinkling laugh, and Riki smirked, tying a rubber band around his stack of money before placing it into their safe. He sighed, tired, but feeling pretty accomplished; he ran his fingers through his freshly silvery-blond hair, meeting Sunoo’s curious gaze in the mirror once again.

“Y’know—with the money from the gig tomorrow, we might have enough to replace your phone AND get the damn brakes fixed in my truck.”

“Might as well save up to just get a whole new damn vehicle, honestly—that thing’s gotta be on its last leg—or wheel.”

“Get a little sugar from your boytoy tomorrow, and we’ll see.”

“Riki!”

“Yo, Riki—seriously, you good?”

Riki blinked, nodding, leaning up in his seat.

“Tired, man. Can’t wait to fuckin’ sleep, to be honest.”

“You were fuckin’ shredding today, dude, seriously. Still can not fucking believe you’re self-taught,” their frontman and second guitarist, K, shook his head.

“Yeah. Well. Y’know how it is,” Riki mumbled dismissively, ducking as he felt his face flush a little from the compliment. 

“Seriously, Bro—I still gotta get Beom a good fucking bottle of whiskey or something, to thank him for setting you up with us.”

“I’m just happy to be playin’ at all,” Riki muttered under his breath, his eyes falling shut. He was actually really tired.

They all passed out pretty quick once they’d gotten to the apartment, Riki taking Sunoo’s bed, leaving the others to fight over his own—knowing the older would have a slight fit if he let the others in his bed.

He wasn’t sure, at first, what to think when he felt someone snuggling up next to him—until he woke up a little more, his brain catching up and recognizing Sunoo’s saltwater-watermelon-cinnamon scent. 

“Wh’time isit—what’re you doin’ home,” he mumbled into the pillow, blinking his eyes open when he heard Sunoo sniffle into the back of his shirt.

“Early. Eight-ish, maybe. Go back to sleep.”

“Somethin’ happen?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, Ki-Ki. Just sleep.”

“Sound like you been cryin’—did somethin' happen, did, did he do somethin’ to you?”

“No, he—I just—no. I’m just—stupid. Is all. I’m so stupid. And impulsive, and—so fuckin’ selfish—,”

“Sun-noo, the fuck’re you talkin’ ‘bout—,”

“God, I can't believe I—this, all of this was a fuckin' mistake. I should've never, never have even talked to him—,"

Riki flipped over, rubbing his eyes, wincing when he fully took in the state of his best friend—walk of shame couldn’t begin to cover it, honestly.

“Christ, Sunoo, was he tryna eat you?” he mumbled, wrinkling his nose. Sunoo either didn’t hear, or just chose not to acknowledge that, though, his breathing turning into hitched little sobs.

“I should’ve just—just kept fuckin’ walking—God, I fucking—ruined him—,”

Riki blinked, sitting up in the bed as Sunoo fell apart, crying into Riki’s shoulder. 

“Sunoo, that’s ridiculous—,”

“He shouldn’t have—I shouldn’t have been his first, for God’s sake—,”

“A little TMI, but—come on, that doesn’t mean you ruined the guy, what year is it again?”

“It should’ve, should’ve been—someone in his league, someone, on his level, in life—not a fuckin’ whore—,”

“You know I hate when you fuckin’ call yourself that, Sunoo.”

“It’s true, it’s what I am—,”

“You don’t even do that, anymore. And, and—besides, so what if you did—doesn’t fuckin’ make you less of a person. Ever. And, it doesn’t—doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be treated nice by someone, or. Or be loved. You, you gotta know that.”

Sunoo just sniffled, waiting until he had calmed himself before sitting up, and Riki tsked at his appearance.

“You’re a hot-ass mess. Go shower, why don’t you.”

“Fuck off, get out of my bed.”

“Haven’t heard that one, before, honestly.”

“You ain’t been in no one’s bed.”

“Exactly.”

Sunoo rolled his eyes, leaving Riki with a tiny smirk and his middle finger. Riki watched him go, not quite sure where they would go from here.

The answer to that, apparently, was: not very far at all, really. Sunghoon left, supposedly off to college, and Sunoo stayed there in that apartment with Riki, and time moved just as it always had. Sunoo never tried to contact Sunghoon after that night, despite his and Yeonjun’s and Beomgyu’s insistence, and he seemed to disappear into himself. 

Healing, maybe, wasn’t a long, winding road, Riki would realize after this. Maybe it was more like hiking up a dangerous mountain, being forced to turn back at points, find different paths to take, stop to rest for a while. 

And maybe, sometimes, it just wasn’t possible without a little push from behind. 

☀

Sunoo had just barely turned eighteen when the trajectory of his life was not only changed—but thrown wildly in a direction he wouldn’t have thought possible.

And it had started with cinnamon twists, approximately fifty-seven cents, and a smile.

It was so hot, and Sunoo was craving those damn cinnamon twists as if he were a pregnant woman—damn Soobin and his calorie-ridden deliciousness. 

He wasn’t sure what compelled him to turn around—maybe the forlornness of the curse, or the huskiness of the voice it came from, or maybe, as Yeonjun would probably claim, it was just fate.

“There you go,” he muttered, handing the change to the poor guy as he thanked him, and blinking when the boy looked up at him. Awe was the only way Sunoo could think to describe the look on his face. Awe, curiosity—maybe even a little bit of hope, as strange as it sounded.

“Are you okay?” Sunoo asked, a bit concerned. The boy’s face was awfully red, and he looked a little lost. 

“Uh. Yeah. Good, great. Perfect,” the cute stranger stuttered out, his gaze not leaving Sunoo’s for a second, and oh—Sunoo knew that look. 

“Good,” he smiled brightly, fluttering his lashes just slightly, tilting his head, knowing the sun would catch on the glitter around his eyes. The stranger simply stared at him, his jaw the slightest bit slack, his grip on his salted pretzel loosening a little. 

Sunoo popped a twist into his mouth with a tiny giggle, leaving the stranger with a wink. He’d already gone past his lunch hour, and Riki was probably wondering if he was coming back at all. 

He tried to tell himself that the bounce in his step and the light fluttering in his heart was from the sugar rush.

Sighing for what felt like the millionth time, Sunoo tapped his foot, waiting in line at Soobin’s stand. One would think he would get some sort of privilege, he’d normally complain to the older boy, whenever Soobin’s line was this long—today, though, maybe he welcomed the time to think. Reminisce. Just a little.

Sunoo put a little more stock into Yeonjun’s musings about fate when Sunghoon showed up again, this time at Riki’s balloon-dart stand. 

He’d felt his heart stutter for a second, as he looked up to see the pretzel guy himself staring at him with wide, disbelieving eyes, probably matching Sunoo’s own expression quite well.

“Oh, it’s you again. Pretzel guy,” he greeted, feeling the stretch of the smile on his lips. 

“ That's him?” Riki scoffed, and Sunoo kicked the younger’s leg beneath the counter, flushing a bit at the exposing of his discussion about the stranger—who, apparently, did not catch this, too busy staring at Sunoo as if he’d offered the guy a million dollars.

“Um…uh-huh, that’s me—pretzel guy, that’s—that’s what they all call me, yup.”

Oh, he was so awkward. So nervous, so thrown off. 

So cute.

His name was Park Sunghoon, he’d gathered with a quick lick of his lips. He was here on vacation, he learned, with a fluttering of his eyelashes. He was single, he’d been told, very pointedly—and Sunoo took that as his go-ahead, leaning forward and inviting the other boy closer, delivering his lines with a confidence he’d learned to project years ago. Securing his date with little more than a flirty giggle and a squinty-eyed smile.

Riki teased him endlessly that day, but Sunoo didn’t care. The teasing was worse when he got home from their “pre-date,” and Sunoo couldn’t stop gushing about the boy, probably sounding a bit like a pre-teen girl with her first crush—and still, Sunoo didn’t care, going to bed with dreams of warm, chocolatey eyes, and warm, careful hands. 

Park Sunghoon was all he could care to think about.

“The usual, Sunny?”

Sunoo almost nodded, ignoring the tinge of sympathy in Soobin’s kind eyes, glancing up at the cute little homemade menu hung up behind him. 

“Yeah. And…a pretzel, please.”

“...Of course.”

Sunoo could feel Sunghoon’s eyes on him as he collected his goods from Soobin, leaving his friend with a peck on his cheek before pulling Sunghoon along. 

“Why do people call you that? Sunny.”

Because it was a separation. He was Sunny, with almost everyone who didn’t know exactly what it meant for him to be Sunoo. He was Sunny, and he could smile, laugh, sing. He could pretend. He was Sunny, to most of the world, and whatever happened to Sunny out in that world—he could keep away from Sunoo. He could keep his heart safer, that way.

“Just a nickname.”

“You prefer it to Sunoo? Should I call you that?”

No. Because for some reason, when Sunghoon called him Sunoo, it felt right. As if that was the only way it should be. There’s no reason to have to be Sunny, with him. There was no reason to pretend; he felt safe already. 

“No. I like the way you say my name.”

They spent the afternoon on the water, and Sunoo felt himself open up to the world for the first time in a long time. His smile was so wide he could feel it split his lip a little, his laugh so unabashed that he could tell people on the other boats could probably hear him. Beomgyu was generous with the amount of alcohol he put in his drinks, as always, but Sunoo felt like maybe he didn’t even need it, to feel so light. Not when he tentatively rested his head on Sunghoon’s bare shoulder, and the other boy simply brushed Sunoo’s hair from his face, making it easier for them to see each other as Sunoo looked up to meet his eyes. 

And Sunoo felt so, utterly, seen. 

“A little extra, in there. Don’t tell Yeonjun. Or Beomgyu. It’s on the house,” Soobin whispered, tucking the baggie tight into Sunoo's hand along with his cinnamon twists, holding out the pretzel with a tilt of his head when Sunoo hesitated to take it, instead fiddling with the sun charm of the necklace resting right at his jugular notch. It really was extra carbs, after all.  

“I don’t know why I suggested this place—I really need to watch my weight, I’ve gotten so off-track lately—,”

“You’re ridiculous. You look fine. Great, actually. Stunning. Gorgeous."

Sunoo felt that familiar annoyance rise up in his gut, the insistent irritation, the need to double-down, to refuse to accept empty placating compliments. To reassure the ugly monster in his brain that always somehow sounded so similar to his mother that he was right, the others were wrong—he was fat, and they were wrong for trying to make him think otherwise when he was trying to better himself.

He looked up, the sharp retort on the tip of his tongue.

Sunghoon’s words, he’d heard an uncountable amount of times, from everyone around him. But no one had ever said them while looking at him the way Sunghoon was—as if he could’ve never said anything more true in his life. As if his words were so universally true, so glaringly accurate, that there was simply no arguing the matter, ever. Sunoo blinked quickly, his own rebuttal dying on his tongue along with the monster in the back of his mind, as Sunghoon gazed at him with those warm, syrupy-melted-chocolate eyes, and all he could even think to say anymore was—

“Thank you,” Sunoo whispered, taking the pretzel, hoping Soobin didn’t notice the way his hand was trembling.

“Any time, Sunny. Any time.”

“I’ll—see you guys later.”

“You and Riki are coming to the party, tomorrow, right?” Soobin called out as Sunoo started off, smiling when Sunoo turned to nod, waving. 

He had definitely been planning to go back to the boardwalk. Drop the pretzel off with Riki (two bites had been all he could force himself to keep down) and keep the weed safe in his pocket for the Halloween party planned for the next night. Go back to his own stand, back to his reality.

Sunoo got to the beach, felt the sand shift beneath his feet, heard the distant screams and laughter from the boardwalk in the distance. A couple passed by him, holding hands. The sun charm felt heavier around his neck.

He headed towards the Old Hanging Dock, instead. 

“Wanna shotgun it, instead?”

Sunoo felt his heart skip a beat as he asked the question, anticipation and a slight fear of rejection swirling together in his gut as Sunghoon glanced down at him, his brow furrowed.

“...We have bottles, not cans.”

It took a second, but Sunoo realized he was serious, and not just being sarcastically dismissive. He giggled, reaching up to pat the taller boy’s cheek, holding up the joint.

“I meant this. It’s a bit gentler than inhaling it yourself,” Sunoo explained, tugging the boy a little closer when he shrugged, not seeming opposed in any way. 

He paused, then, as Sunghoon kept his full attention on him, watching him close. His eyes were a bit glazed from his inebriation, but if anything, the stare felt warmer. Sunoo sighed, figuring this could end one of two ways, and he was drunk enough himself to take the risk.

Sunoo took a hit, sitting up, cradling Sunghoon’s face in his hands as he brought him forward, tilting his head to make the angle right—and Sunghoon’s lips were on his. Fully, for just a second, before he parted them to inhale the smoke from Sunoo’s own mouth. Sunoo watched his expression change as he inhaled, his eyes growing darker, his jaw twitching, until he closed his eyes while letting out the puff of smoke, and then their lips were connected, again. 

It escalated so quickly that Sunoo hardly realized it, holding onto Sunghoon’s shirt collar desperately as they kissed. Slowly, deeply. Sunghoon held him, close and gentle, his hand on Sunoo’s waist, the other in his hair, holding his head as if he were a precious gem. Sunoo sighed into it, letting the visceral feeling in his core take over as he deepened the kiss, practically whimpering at the way Sunghoon tasted, felt. 

He could’ve stayed there forever, hypnotized by the careful, thorough way Sunghoon unraveled him, with just his lips. Everything he’d ever known fell away, in that moment. He could’ve let Sunghoon hold him like this forever, his hand so steady and sure on his waist, his thumb tracing Sunoo’s jawline, his fingers tangling so softly in his hair. 

His hand snuck beneath Sunoo’s shirt, and Sunoo gasped, the touch lighting a fire in his very skin cells—and Sunghoon groaned, the sound deep and genuine from his chest, and Sunoo wanted him. So fucking bad. 

They pulled apart, and Sunoo still wanted him. He wanted to always be touched this carefully, held this assuringly. He wanted those eyes to never leave him, keep him warm forever. 

He should’ve known, right then, that he was asking to be sorely disappointed. Forever didn’t exist.

Sunoo closed his eyes, holding the pungent smoke in his lungs as long as he could stand, imagining that he could also taste a hint of cheap beer and french fry salt behind it. He couldn’t, of course, but he’d always had an active imagination. 

His phone rang, the shrill tone breaking through his illusion, freeing him from his recollection. He sighed, blowing out his lungful of smoke and snuffing the half-finished joint before pulling his phone out, not even bothering to check the caller ID before answering. 

“I’m fine, Riki—took a detour. Didn’t feel like—going back, yet,” he drawled, effectively cutting off Riki’s panicked rambling, questions about where he’s at, if he’s okay, etcetera. 

“Didn’t feel like—Sunoo, you—you gotta fuckin’ warn me when you leave for lunch if you just aren’t gonna show back up!”

“What are you, my babysitter?”

“Feels like it, these days. The fuck you mean, didn’t feel like—,”

Sunoo rolled his eyes at Riki’s mumbling, a quick fluttering of his eyelids. 

“I’ll be back in a bit. Gimme, like…an hour.”

“What for?”

So he could keep pretending, just a little while longer.

“Just—needed a minute. To myself.”

He listened to Riki breathe softly over the phone as he stood, making his way back towards the beach. 

“Okay. But—just. Come back, though. Alright?”

Back to the boardwalk, back to him. Back to reality—either worked, Sunoo supposed.

“I will. Always do.”

“...Yeah. See ya.”

“In a bit.”

He hung up, shoving his phone into his bag. He was moving on autopilot, now, having made this exact set of movements so many times he couldn’t count—following the path on the beach to the boardwalk, lifting his wrist to the ticketer to show his employee band, heading straight past the few smaller rides and ducking behind the watergun target shooting tents, climbing down the side as he used the pillar to help slide himself down to the rocks below. He nearly lost his footing on one of them, the surface particularly slippery, and the irony of it almost made him laugh.

“I don’t just want you in that way—,”

“Please—do you think I’m fucking stupid? You think I don’t know what the fuck people want me, for? You think I don’t see how people look at me? How you look at me? You think I don’t realize how I’m only good for one thing for people, and I have nothing else to offer—,”

“You—Sunoo, you—that’s not true, you…you aren’t just—just some kind of, sex object—,”

“Yeah, sure fucking seems like it, huh?”

Sunoo scoffed, holding his head in his hands, unable to believe how stupid, how careless he’d been. How he could’ve ever let this happen to himself again. How he could’ve not learned his lesson, by now.

“You’re so—you’re so fucking beautiful. You are,” Sunghoon said quietly, carefully pulling Sunoo’s hands away from his face, holding them tight, “you’re…the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, so pretty that I can’t fucking think around you, sometimes—most of the time, clearly—but that’s not why I like you, or why I like spending time with you.”

Maybe he was a masochist, of sorts. Maybe this was some strange way of punishing himself, for letting himself get carried away by a silly crush, on an equally silly boy. Either way, he let himself listen to Sunghoon’s words, let himself feel as though every bit of it was true. Let himself open up, even further, instead of shutting everything down like he’d done so many times before, in his life. 

“I’m just as scared, you know,” Sunoo whispered, voice shaky. “I…have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve spent the last five years of my life just—just trying to survive. And, recently, it just…started to feel like…none of that was even worth it.”

“Don’t, don’t say that—,”

“You’re afraid because there’s so much that’ll change for you. But Sunghoon, it’s gonna be so amazing. You’re gonna have so much to do, so many people to meet,” Sunoo cut him off, shaking his hair into his eyes. “This trip was just the beginning for you, you know.”

The silence was almost suffocating, for a second—Sunoo wondered if maybe he shouldn’t have gone that far, assumed so much. Said so much, admitted to so much. He stared at the ground, avoiding those eyes he’d come to crave the warmth of so much, until Sunghoon gently tilted his head up, forcing them to meet anyway.

“You should be proud of yourself, Sunoo. You should be proud of what you’ve done. For yourself, and Riki. That kid’s gonna go places, because of how you’ve helped him.”

Sunoo blinked, shaking his head slightly as he started to refute this, questioning Sunghoon on the simple basis of him not having a Goddamn clue what he’s put Riki through since the very day they met, let alone any of his other friends. He didn’t get a chance to even crack that can of worms open, as Sunghoon continued. 

“I don’t have to know the details—I can still imagine how different things would be if he didn’t have you. You don’t—you don’t give yourself enough credit. Your friends love you to the ends of the Earth, I can see it and I’ve only been around for a day. They’ve only said the best things about you, they worry about you being safe, told me how they just want you to be happy. That doesn’t sound like someone only being liked because they’re pretty.”

Sunoo would swear that he felt something inside him literally crack, break apart, fall and shatter to glittering pieces impossible to put back together. And he knew there was no going back, after that. He began crying, to his slight embarrassment, his chest aching as he leaned into Sunghoon’s tight hug. 

“I just don’t understand. Why I still, feel so. Lonely.”

The lightest of kisses was pressed just behind his ear, and he shivered. 

“Do you feel lonely right now?”

“No,” he sighed, grasping at Sunghoon’s shirt. “I don’t, whenever I’m with you. That's the problem.”

And it was a problem, a very big one. Because this was a fleeting moment in time, and a temporary fix to the hole that had just been busted wide open in his heart once again, and he wasn’t sure he could patch it up another time.

“Doesn’t have to be a problem. Come back to the hotel with me. I don’t want you to be lonely, tonight.”

It was an offer, of whatever Sunoo wanted to take. There was some careful backtracking, some soft additions to the implication, a clear way out laid out for him, should he want it. He didn’t, though.

Because Sunoo took what he could get, when he could get it.

And he got everything, that night.

“Wow, you actually did show up,” Riki raised a brow, and Sunoo glared at him half-heartedly as he sauntered up to the counter, sitting at the corner by Riki’s register.

“You think I’d just disappear like that, Darling?”

“Wouldn't be the first time you pulled a disappearing act.”

Sunoo huffed, tucking his hands beneath his thighs to hide their shaking as he watched Riki count a few bills. Riki had gotten progressively braver with his barbs, lately, and Sunoo wasn’t sure if it was an attempt to break him down, or help him grow immune to the mere mention of Park Sunghoon. 

Maybe both. 

Sex could feel good, Sunoo knew this; it had felt good for him, before, at times. 

But he wasn’t even sure if he could describe that night with Sunghoon with such a simple word, sex. That night had been eye-opening, in so many ways. No one had ever spent so long mapping out his body, taking care to pay attention to every one of his sensitive spots—no one had ever, ever used their mouth on him like that, before, despite the universal demand for him to do so with every other man he’d slept with. Sunghoon hadn’t run his fingers over the scars on his thighs, or kissed them—he’d made no mention of them, really—but he’d marked over them, sucking pretty, blooming pink-red-purple bruises in his soft skin, a bite mark here or there. Sunoo had relished in the soreness for days afterwards, fully deterred from adding any marks of his own, not wanting to ruin the artwork Sunghoon had left behind. 

He was so, so careful. Attentive. Sunoo was so used to expecting the sharp, burning pain, that he’d flinched out of pure instinct, at first—and before he knew it, Sunghoon was everywhere, all over him, inside him, and with him. He hadn’t even realized it, but somehow Sunghoon had infiltrated the walls around his heart. He didn’t tear them down, destroy them—but he’d scaled them, learned how to navigate them, climbed up and dropped himself inside them as if he belonged there all along. And Sunoo could do nothing but let him stay there, every inch of his body and soul singing with pleasure, feeling as if he could float away at any moment.

How Sunghoon could’ve been a virgin, Sunoo wasn’t sure. 

That thought stuck with him, and later in the night, he’d woken up from a nightmare, as was still standard for him even though they had grown less frequent lately. 

The nightmare was much of the same, so much so that it had barely fazed Sunoo as he woke up in a chilled sweat, a bit thrown off by the unfamiliar room until everything came back to him.

He’d looked down to see Sunghoon sleeping so peacefully beside him, though, and the sight had almost made him want to throw up. How could he have done that? How could he have taken someone’s virginity, in such a useless, pointless manner? Virginity was just a man-made concept, and a ridiculous one, depending who you asked. But as Sunoo stared down at the sleeping boy beside him, his face so relaxed, his hair falling so prettily over his brows, the tiniest little hint of a smile on his lips—all he could think about was himself, at fifteen, laying beside a boy who had promised him everything in exchange for his very last vestige of innocence and had left him with nothing. Nothing but years of confusion, and pain, and self-flagellation. 

And he’d just inflicted the same, onto this wonderful, caring, careful boy. 

He truly was a monster, after all. 

Sunghoon had woken up during his breakdown, muttering assurance after assurance, still touching him so softly, so loving, even after what Sunoo had taken from him. He’d soothed that inner voice, that stinging in his chest, just enough to convince Sunoo to lay with him again. And Sunoo was so far gone, that he couldn’t stop Sunghoon or himself when Sunghoon had pressed back up against him, kissing him so perfectly, touching him and worshiping every part of him as he rocked down onto him. He’d given Sunoo another first, to his surprise—he didn’t think he could have many of those left at this point. But it had been mind-blowing, and he was amazed that something could feel that fucking good. 

Sunoo let go, allowing himself to get lost in it all again, figuring the worst of his decisions, his actions, was already over and done—so, he may as well have given Sunghoon his fucking money’s worth. Though, if you asked Sunoo, there wasn’t an amount he could’ve been paid to make up for his own loss, all those years ago. 

He had left early, slinking out of the hotel room and the suite, only taking a moment to write a note. He wasn’t going to, but as he’d headed toward the door, an image of himself had flashed in his mind—fifteen, soft around the edges, staring at himself in the mirror and wondering what he could’ve done better. How he could’ve been better. Why he wasn’t better. Why it had been so easy to toss him away, throw him aside as if none of him had meant anything. 

And he couldn’t leave Sunghoon with those sorts of thoughts; he had to make it clear. 

He was the problem. Always had been. 

And that was just something that wouldn’t ever seem to change.

“I need to show you something,” Riki sighed, later that night, as they both got home. He hadn’t waited for Sunoo to answer, or question him. He’d headed straight for his room, so Sunoo sat on the couch, pulling out his phone and checking with Yeonjun that they were still on for eight the next night. 

Looking up as Riki sat beside him close enough for their thighs to be touching, he hummed when the younger grabbed his arm, rubbing his thumb in circles into his skin. It was an uncharacteristically soft action from the other, especially sober, and it made something heavy settle in Sunoo’s stomach. 

“I know you don’t wanna hear this, anymore. I know you want us all to shut up about it,” Riki started, and Sunoo sighed, already knowing where the conversation was going, but Riki shushed him, squeezing his arm. 

“Listen. I was going to drop it, to be honest. I was going to…let you…work this out, within yourself, however you felt you needed to. But, then, I would, would look at these pictures that Beomgyu sent,” he forced out, his voice growing tight. “And—God, Sunoo, I…I’ve never seen…you look like this. ”

Riki held out a cropped photo, a professional print out, and Sunoo’s heart squeezed, his chest aching with regret at the sight of him sitting with Sunghoon on Beomgyu and Taehyun’s boat, staring up at the other as if he’d never seen anything so lovely, so wonderful, so heavenly. And Sunghoon looked down at him, fixing his hair, and the high, shining sun was just no competition for the warmth in Sunghoon’s eyes, even through a picture. 

“You—deserve this, Sunoo. You deserve to have this, and you don’t fuckin’ believe that, and—and that’s—been the hardest thing, for me to—understand,” Riki snapped, tossing the picture down onto Sunoo’s lap. He was speechless, at this point, staring down at the photo while Riki continued his intervention. 

“I’ve…spent so long watching you…punish yourself, for—for, for the way other people have fucked you over. Done you wrong. You think there’s something wrong with you, because—so many people who were supposed to fuckin’ love you, respect you, cherish you—so many of them fucking failed you, Sunoo. And—maybe, maybe I was skeptical, of this guy, at first, and—maybe I judged him too fast, because of all of this, too. But, I look at this, and. And I just see. Everything you could have. And I’m so fuckin’—so pissed, Sunoo, that you feel like you have to push somethin’ like that away.”

“He—He wasn’t some, some—magical fucking fix, Riki,” Sunoo bit out, snatching the picture and tossing it back over, sitting on his hands as he leaned forward. “This isn’t some stupid fairytale, where—a knight in shining armor shows up, and, and saves me from everything. I don’t belong with him, Riki—there would’ve been no excuse for me to try. To tie him down with my shit—when he has so much ahead of him—,”

“You really wanna sit there, and act like you’ve done this dude some fuckin’ favor by ditching him like that?” Riki scoffed, grabbing the picture again, his hand shaking this time as he held it back up to Sunoo’s face. “Look at him—look at his face—,”

“I don’t need to look—,”

“You know, Sunoo. He didn’t deserve that. You did fuck up, you know—you’re right about that. You fucked up hard—not by getting involved with him, but by makin’, makin’ him feel like this, and then leaving him with a fuckin’ goodbye note and pretendin’ like it was for his own good, somehow!”

“It was! It was for his own good—,”

“No, it’s because you were fucking scared. Because you were scared of finally fuckin’ feeling something so much after so fuckin’ long—,”

“You don’t know—you don’t understand—,”

“Don’t try that shit with me. I understand perfectly—,”

“You don’t, Riki. You fuckin’ don’t!”

Sunoo stood, heaving a breath, willing himself not to start sobbing. 

“I can’t…tell you what to do. I can’t make you, make you do anything. But, Sunoo—you have to see—you have to realize, that. That this wasn’t right. Not for you, or him. He…he deserved a little more closure than that. At the very least. Would it have been plausible for you guys to be together, or whatever—I don’t fuckin’ know. Maybe not. But you both deserve more than—than. Whatever the fuck this situation is, right now.”

Sunoo sniffled, taking in Riki’s words, his heart sinking practically down into his stomach with each one, knowing the younger was right. 

“So, please, please just. Do whatever you have to do. Because you both deserve it.”

Hanging his head, Sunoo sat back down, finally letting his tears fall as Riki rubbed his back, sliding the photos closer to him on the coffee table. 

He wrote another letter, admitting his fault, hoping Sunghoon would take it as the apology it was. He’d put the necklace in, too, and the pictures, figuring they would serve as a grateful acknowledgement, a thank you, for having made Sunoo’s world feel a little bit magical, for just a few days. He flirted with the cute hotel clerk a little bit, got him appropriately flustered before asking for a possibly-law-breaking favor (providing him Jay’s address from the boys’ stay). 

Riki, however, had mailed the letter, practically snatching it from Sunoo’s hands as soon as he sealed the envelope, claiming it was to make sure ‘it actually got sent.’ Which, Sunoo had supposed, was fair enough. Then, a few months later, he got a call from an unknown number—and Riki had sighed a sigh so heavy with relief that he’d nearly sunk into the couch cushion when Sunoo answered, his heart jumping in his chest at the sound of that voice.

“Well, hello, Pretzel Guy.”

☾

Riki was eighteen, and with everything it had taken for him to get there—he somehow felt like he might’ve not changed a thing. 

“We got it, Sunoo, we—fuck, holy shit, we fuckin’ got it—,”

“The—the audition!?”

“We got fuckin’ picked!” Riki screeched, laughing as Sunoo ran over to him at the doorway, bouncing on his feet and gripping Riki’s shoulders.

“Oh my God, Riki! Oh my God!”

“We’re fuckin’ going on tour!”

 Sunoo let out a noise, some kind of mix of an excited squeal and a bark of shocked laughter, pulling Riki into a rough, tight hug. 

“Oh my—holy fucking shit—I’m so—oh my God, Riki—,”

“I know, I know—I can’t believe this—,”

“I’m so fucking proud of you, Ki-Ki—I’m so proud of you,” Sunoo said, his voice muffled as he kept his face tucked into Riki’s neck. 

“I couldn’t—couldn’t have done—any of this, without you,” Riki huffed, pulling away just enough to look Sunoo in his eyes, feeling himself tear up once he saw his best friend wiping his cheeks. 

“I’ve always wanted this, for you, Riki. I always—always knew, knew you could. Knew you had—something special.”

“You’ll, you’ll come with us? Right?” Riki asked, holding Sunoo’s wrists as the shorter tightened his grip on Riki’s shirt. “You gotta—you gotta come, I can’t—I can’t, without you there.”

“ ‘Course you could, Ki-Ki.”

“I don’t want to. Not if I don’t have to. I want you there, with me. Always.”

“...I’d never not be with you, Darling.”

Riki let out a breathless chuckle, throwing his arms around Sunoo again, finally feeling his own cheeks growing wet, breathing in the scent of Sunoo’s shampoo. He held him there for a moment, then a few more moments, and then he wasn’t sure how long it had been. But Sunoo never let go of him, never pulled away. He let Riki hold him there, let him cry into his hair, let him use him to comfort himself like a teddy bear. Riki cried, mostly tears of joy, relief, excitement. A little bit of nervousness, a little worry. And maybe just a touch of his inner child coming through, crying for everything he’d had to live through, just to be able to feel something like this moment. 

And Sunoo stayed there, holding him, letting him. His very best friend, his rock—a boulder, perhaps, always standing strong through even a typhoon—his very first love, in whichever way someone would interpret. His Sun-noo.

His constant. 

“I just don’t know, Sunoo.”

“Have a little faith, Ki-Ki. You guys are brilliant. You’ll kill the audition, and if they don’t pick you—then, they’re tasteless.”

“Spoken like a true Stan.”

“Forever your guys’ number one Stan, and don’t you ever forget. I want lifetime merch discounts and free backstage passes.”

“Well, you are kinda the merch guy, so…,”

“Right. Insider, Baby.”

Riki huffed a quick laugh, flicking off a chip of rusted metal from the chain of the swing he was sitting on, glancing over at Sunoo on the one beside him. His eyes were closed, and he swung slowly, gently, just enough to create the tiniest of breezes for the spring air to ruffle through his freshly-dyed pink hair. 

“Can I swing?”

Blinking at the small, youthful voice, Riki looked back in front of them to see a little girl—no older than five, at most, surely, not that he knew much about children. 

“Oh, Sweetie, sure. Here, have mine!” Sunoo cooed, hopping off his swing and holding it still for the girl to clamber up on, her tiny body maybe not quite big or sturdy enough yet for the full-size swing seat. She held her own anyway, her tiny fists clenched around the chilled metal of the chain links, her chubby little cheeks puffed out as she pouted, kicking her legs quite ferociously to no avail. 

“Oh, no, Honey, here—here, quit kickin’,” Sunoo said softly, bringing his hand down to the girl’s knees to hold her still. “You just hold on real tight, Sweetie, and I’ll give you a little push.”

Riki watched as Sunoo pushed the little girl gently, carefully, keeping his hands out as if to catch her each time she swung back as she squealed and giggled exuberantly, begging him to push her faster. 

A lump formed in his throat, and suddenly his vision was a bit blurry, even with his contacts in—and his eyes burned, growing wet. 

And for half a second, the scene looked just a little different: he was sitting in the swing, looking about five, for all of his seven years, and Sunoo was much, much smaller himself, but somehow—seemed just as strong, just as resolute, as he pushed Riki into the air with all the strength his thin arms could contain. 

“Can you see up over the slide, Sweetie?”

Can you see over the roof, Riki?

“I see it! I can see now!”

I can see, now.

Riki choked back a sob, swallowing hard, trying to stay surreptitious as he wiped his eyes, looking away for a second as he cleared his throat. 

“Missy! What in God’s name are you—I told you not to run off like that!”

He looked up, sniffling quickly, to see an older woman marching towards them, hands on her hips as she stood, staring.

“Get down off of there right now—get away from those—delinquents!” the woman screeched, and the little girl hunched over, quickly crawling off the swing, giving Sunoo a bright, sparkly-eyed smile.

“Thank you, Mister,” she giggled, before running over to her mother, who’d been busy glaring at Sunoo, disgust and suspicion wrinkling her expression. 

“You don’t be talkin’ to no one like that, you hear me…,”

“But Mama, he let me swing!”

Their voices trailed off as they got further away towards the main playground of the seaside park, and Riki glanced over, biting his lip. Expecting Sunoo to be upset, hurt, by the harsh, unfounded judgment. He didn’t though, and he was already looking at Riki, instead. 

There was something far-away in his eyes, and Riki gave him a slight, crooked smile, hoping his own eyes weren’t rimmed too red. 

“Wanna push me?” he asked, his smile growing when Sunoo walked over, his eyes shining. 

“I’ll push you. Don't kick.”

“I wanna fly real high, Sun-noo.”

“I’ll get you there, Darling.”

Sunoo pushed him, groaning a bit at first at Riki's much sturdier weight, and Riki laughed, kicking himself off a bit, just enough to give himself some momentum for Sunoo to work with. Soon enough, he was in the air, the wind rushing through his slightly too-long silvery hair, his roots grown out a bit terribly. It fell into his eyes with each backwards swing, but got swept back by the wind just enough, just in time for him to catch a peek at the fond smile adorning Sunoo’s face just before he swung back up past him. 

He closed his eyes, ignoring the saltiness of the seaside air, breathing in deep each time he swung past Sunoo, catching the scent of his watermelon shampoo. 

And for a second, he was seven again, swinging so high over their school, over their whole hometown. Over the whole world—and Sunoo caught him, each and every time, making sure he stayed high enough. Helping him fly away. 

“Can you see everything, up there, Riki?”

He opened his eyes, catching Sunoo’s strangely wistful gaze as he swung past, and without even thinking, he let his heels drag, bringing himself to a harsh stop, leaving tracks in the sandy pit. 

Sunoo gave him a confused little frown as he stood from the swing, holding the chain, keeping it still.

“You can see everything. Come on, get on. I’ll show you,” he whispered, and Sunoo’s eyes widened just slightly. He hesitantly sat on the swing, looking up at Riki with his big, sparkly eyes as he curled his hands around the chains. 

“Just hold on. I’ll push you, now. Okay?”

And he did. He pushed Sunoo, steady and strong, until he was as high as possible, and Sunoo’s bright, tinkling, amazed giggle filled something in his soul he wasn’t aware had been missing, and couldn’t place. All he knew was that for as long as Sunoo had been pushing him, it was time for him to do some of the pushing, now that he was able to. 

Maybe, they would always be doing this, taking turns, pushing each other. Until the other one could reach the sky, see everything for themselves, feel a little more weightless, for just a moment. Then, they would head home, holding hands, so that neither of them get lost or left behind. They would whisper their promises, link their pinkies. They would tighten their friendship bracelets, ensuring they would stay in place no matter how high they swung, or how far they traveled. 

They would share their lunch, their clothes, their material possessions—but now, they would also share their dreams, their hopes, fears. Their failures, their successes. They would share this one life together, just as they always had.

And that would always be their constant.